#another line is 'whats the worse part of this hell? I can only blame myself'

[sensitivegoblin]

Vent

Tw: sa, sucide, self harm

[mister-eames]

I love and worship the beloved “mustn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger darling” but ALSO can we please talk about the moment leading up to it? how right after “do it faster!” Comment (a misplaced anger) by Arthur to eames, When eveyone is hating each other and themselves, and eames who really didn’t have to help Arthur (mr-i-missed-the-part-about-fischers-militarized-mind-so-i-have-to-take-all-of-them-down-myself), stayed behind to help him?, I haven’t seen anyone talk/write about this part quite as much as the beloved “darling” comment, cause eames KNEW his idiot husband is blaming himself and just went there to help him and show that he’s not alone? Can we please??

You are correct, nonnie. I suppose I never really noticed Arthur taking it upon himself to deal with the combative projections all on his own in that warehouse, as if compelled to do so. They didn't really need to take them on (or any of them out really) - yes, they were getting 'boxed in' but the rooftop snipers weren't really a threat tbh. They'd be hoofing it outta there in that van in a matter of minutes, regardless.

A: How are we going to reconcile them if they're so estranged?

E: Well I'm working on that, aren't I?

A: Do it faster.

Arthur says 'do it faster' and then goes to take on snipers all by himself. Arthur, who can't just sit around and twiddle his thumbs while they're loading Saito up in the car. Arthur, who may have cocked up this whole job and Cobbs chances off ever getting home by missing the militarisation. Arthur, who must not only must he be blaming himself for this, but he must also be absolutely terrified and cannot, will not show it. Before, the job was a long shot. Now it's a gunshot between him and limbo and whatever horror Arthur perceives limbo to be. It's one gunshot between everyone else and limbo (purgatory? hell?) and them never coming back - or worse, coming back wrong.

Maybe Eames was being cocky and trying to get a rise out of Arthur. Maybe he was trying to distract him. Maybe it's all of the above and Eames knew Arthur enough to know he was kicking himself. What Eames did was he took a bit of the load off Arthur's shoulders with a size joke masqueraded as (valid) advice and a 'darling' and a big ol' explosion - and I think that is one of the reasons why dreamhusbands is so powerful. Because we love the 'darling' line, god knows I do, but what we really love is all the text and subtext that came before it - 'darling' didn't create the Arthur/Eames fandom - it's just another ingredient in the stew.

Eames says 'darling' and we hear 'darling' (supportive), 'darling' (derogatory), 'darling' (affectionate), 'darling' (cautionary). Their entire relationship throughout the film is laden with loaded words and unspoken words that speak to their history. And that really is the thing - Eames didn't need to be there. He didn't need to tell Arthur to 'dream bigger' in that moment. Eames, who is trying to juggle a severely shortened timeline and has as much pressure on him than anyone else, if not more, to try and play therapist to Fischer, still didn't let Arthur's snappish finger-clicking get a rise out of him. Still saw in Arthur what Arthur was feeling. And Arthur, who says 'do it faster', welcomes Eames helping him out - in fact, when he sees Eames approach, his whole body relaxes like his strings were cut. It's fucking teamwork.

[mayomaggot]

Every Single Class of 09’; Flipside Message

Feet Ending

Title: Greetings my queen

From: 703-425-2981

Message:

hewwo dere i saw your FM wisting and wanted to see if I could come to your house to be stepped on by your cute little piggies. My parents named me Frederick but you can call me Freddy Footins! I am 34 years young and have been with the FeetMeet community for about 5 years now. Someone on the forums snapped a pic of your feet without your permission and I pleasured myself to it roughly 9 times.\nWith that icebreaker out of the way, i have saved up about 300 dollars with my SSI checks and would like to hire your services. Unsure if you do any of the more erotic foot sessions but just in case let me list you some more of my fetishes: feet, choking, food play, facesitting, Mommy incest, sister incest, twincest, simulated kidnapping, women wearing the Taco Bell uniform, you pretending to be Mexican but then saying you are white after I point out how hot it is that you are Mexican, covering my rent this month, that last one wasnt a kink but would be pretty cool if you did that. Also I am not a rapist by definition (looked it up) so no need to google anything about me. P.S. havent seen your face yet but if you look roughly 12 i am SO going to try moving out of my parents house down the line one day maybe to date you!

OD Ending

Title: right number?

From: 703-960-1431

Message:

Hi I'm not sure if I have the right person but this is Jeffery's mother. Was just texting to thank you for finding his body and alerting the authorities when you did. Unfortunately they were too late but you can't blame yourself for that. A part of me is devastated but another part of me is relieved, which is horrible to say... Jeffery has never quite fit in with the other children, never had the best grades, and maybe this was the only avenue for him sadly enough. Every day I wondered in the back of my head if I had failed as a mother by raising someone so awkward. By middle school I eventually gave up on him to compartmentalize my insecurities as a parent, letting him play with toys and masturbate to what I assume is animated pornography that I found on his computer. I was worried he would be hopelessly going through adulthood so this might have been the best outcome for him. He would tell me he was going to work on video games for a job when he was an adult, then it was comic books, then it was making YouTube reviews of action figures. All these things he said he wanted to do and never pursued... my fear was he just wanted to be a child playing with toys forever. My son's suicide is bittersweet, on one hand he is gone but on the other he realized himself that life wouldn't work out and ended things before they got worse. I KNEW there was a smart boy somewhere inside of Jeffery. I also know we have never spoken before but I needed to tell someone who would not have any pre-conceived notions about my pain...and can understand my blunt honesty now.When Jeffery was alive I was insecure. Now that he's gone I can feel free.

Slave Ending

Title: right number?

From: 202-347-4800

Message:

Heyo this George W Bush from the America White House! Not sure if those lesser camel jockeys let you have a phone as a slave but I personally wanted to let you know that Obama has sent a presidential pardon message to the Taliban to let you out. The Taliban ignores most of my messages and will make a grainy VHS tape telling me MacDonalds is the anti-christ or buddha or whatever the hell brown people worship but you get the idea. American girls like you have a bright future and we need to perserve that in ensuring all men are created equal in this race for equal opportunity.

P.S. Kanye was right ;)

Car Crash Ending

Title: can you cover

From: 703-960-1431

Message:

This is Ron Stumpford of Dominos Fairfax texting about the tragic passing of Ari. Now that shes dead we dont really have anyone to do deliveries on NFL Thursdays anymore so can you cover for her? We dont care that you killed her drunk driving we just gotta move orders here. Between you and me I am glad you killed her cause I asked her out on a date and she made up some fake excuse that she was gay FUCK THAT BITCH! But please come down and cover for her because the selfish bitch was too inconsiderate to have someone cover for her in the event she died on the job. I told her parents that and they made it out like IM the bad guy. If you cant drive for us would you at least have any naked pictures of her or anything? Im trying not to leave this deal empty handed here. Not even her parents had naked pictures of her to send me like what a rip off!

Nicole's Suicide Ending

Title: why why why why...

From: nicole

Message:

why cant u help me

100% Completion Message

Title: Thanks for playing!

From: SBN3

Message:

Thank you for playing the Class of '09 visual novel series to completion!

This project set out to bring real, relatable experiences back into the current lexicon of entertainment through the medium of comedy. Originally it was thought a bunch of people in their early 30s would play these games for a laugh but it turned out people who were barely alive for 2009 gravitated towards it in larger numbers.

Many of the social issues featured in this game were not exclusive to the late 2000s and the teenage portion of our fans lead me to believe times haven't changed... I also learned that 2-line throwaway jokes qualify as lore for people who need employment.

Through these games, presenting the dynamic reality I had witnessed came second to only writing dialogue which would entertain a wide array of people.

From FPS streamer fratboy assholes who love Kylar to purple-haired gender neutral girls who love Ari... Class of '09 has succeeded in being a crossroads of internet culture (regardless of whether those two parties are even aware the other side plays the game). This was not by accident, this is just what happens when you aren't afraid to exit your comfort zone and explore other circles, other cultures, and most importantly other levels of hardship.

Represtation in media is important, however mainstream media cannot represent those they are disconnected from. If you're suicidal, homeless, bulimic, addicted, a sex worker, or in an abusive relationship, Class of '09 is not shock humor to you. It merely displays a reality the comfortable can't comprehend.

I cannot necessarily write how real which stories were or were not, but I can guarantee the answers will surprise you. Lives had been lost and many futures were squandered along the journey which influenced the stories in these games. Those who experienced some events of Class of '09 in their own lives would understand. Your funny stories and your sad stories are all you need to create media that resonates.

Now while the game contained a plethora of anti-pedophilia messagery you just can't avoid psychos who latch onto media just because it's popular. I would just like to warn our fans that child predators who infiltrated the Class of '09 fanbase have been using the following phrases to secretly identify each other:

"the writing in Class of '09 isnt very good"

"I hate SBN3"

"I hate Wrath Club"

"Class of '09 was good by mistake"

"I love Class of '09 but hate the creator"

"No! The game just made that up!"

Make sure to report anyone using this or similar secret pedo rhetoric to your local authorities. Thank you.

-SBN3 a.k.a. God.

this game was an actual dumpster fire, idk what I was expecting but it definitely wasn’t whatever we got

[clumsiestgiantess]

Part — what is this.. four of the ‘tiny in the cold’ story! (wow that’s a lot more than the oneshot I intended it to be; thanks for the support!) @entomolog-t it’s back!

[Alice’s pov]

My alarm clock buzzes obnoxiously to my left, but for once I’m not annoyed by it.  I need to get up; it’s exam day.  The exam starts… NOW!  “What?!  I-  Oh my god, I set the alarm for the time I needed to be there!  I’m going to be so late!”  Dashing through the house, I shove a blueberry muffin into my mouth, throw my coat on, grab my bag, and speed out the door.  Jabbing the elevator button every half a second, I practically pounce into the empty space once the doors open.  Thank goodness there was no one in here.  From the moment I step into the lobby, the rest of the trip is a blur.

My brain only finally starts working about a half-hour into testing.  Miraculously, they made an exception and let me in.  I’d blamed my lateness on the slick ice lining a few of the roads instead of my own confusion, and the proctor believed me.  I mean, technically it is the truth.  I was a bit slower coming here because of the ice, though not by much.

Thankfully, this is one of my easier exams.  Even with my grogginess, I have extra time to look through — and redo — the parts I’d done in my half-asleep mind.  I finish the edits with a mere minute to spare.  There are a few quick celebrations between me and a few of my friends who were also taking it, then I head back home.  One final down, four more to go.

My schedule from then on would be to rinse and repeat over the next few days — eat a meal, study, eat another meal, study, maybe sleep, then go back for another test.  When I go to bed that night, I double check that I changed the alarm to give me some time to actually get up.  

That next morning, I have enough time to eat breakfast and glance over my notes before heading back out to yet another exam.  It had snowed overnight, and I hurriedly brushed it off the windshield before heading out.  I actually made it here a bit early!  Maybe I can go see if Terri-  

“Wait!”  I flinch.  Who’s voice is that?  “Please!  I-”  The strange voice stops as abruptly as it started speaking.  Immediately, I turn in my seat, scanning the back for any sign of another person in here with me.  A tiny-sounding whine directs me to the floor.  “What the hell?”  There’s.. a small.. thing moving around down there, halfway tucked inside a beanie that I’d lost a while back.  “Am.. Am I hallucinating?  I can’t!” I yelp suddenly, remembering where I am, “I have exams; I can’t be hallucinating during exams!”  The little — very humanlike — thing collapses to the floor.  I knew I should’ve gone to bed earlier.  This isn’t real, right?  That’s a palm-sized person on the floor.  I rub a hand tiredly over my face and look again.  They’re still there.  “Holy shit.  You’re.. real.”

Leaning down over the console of the car, I twist myself around so I can see them better.  They’re shaking so badly.  “Are you alright?” I ask, worry beginning to gnaw at my stomach.  “How long have you been in my car?  You must be freezing!”  Their little head nods very slightly.  “Are you another person?”  They flinch, and I regret my last question.  Of course they’re a person.  They just spoke to me.  Quietly, their voice rasps out, barely audible.  “I’m a person.  Please don’t leave me out here again.  I- I don’t know if I’ll be able to survive this time.”

My stomach sinks horribly in my chest.  How long has he been stuck out here in the cold?  He’s so small; he’ll freeze so easily.  “O- Of course, yes; I won’t leave you in here to freeze!” I gasp.  “Do you mind if I.. umm.. pick you up?”  I don’t have time to try to warm him where he is on the floor.  I doubt he really needs the extra fright of me trying to handle him, especially because he already seems so desperate, but if I don’t leave soon, I’m going to be late twice in a row.  One time I can get away with, but twice and I’ll probably get in trouble, or worse, kicked out.

A tiny head shake — no, he wouldn’t mind it.  I let out a relieved breath.  I honestly have no idea what I would’ve done if he’d refused.  Leave him here?  Out of the question.  Pick him up anyway?  That would be horrible of me.  Give him the choice to either come with me or be left here?  That just sounds like a threat.  Thankfully he’s either willing enough — or desperate enough — to trust me.

Carefully, I reach down for him, sliding my fingers gently beneath him and guiding his tiny body into my hand.  He squirms against me as I tighten my grip slightly in order to lift him.  My heart skips a beat; his hands grip my finger tightly — shaking and icy cold.  Poor thing.  I wish I had more time to help you.  I lift him upright and slide back into my seat slowly so I don’t jostle him.  Hesitantly, he chances a glance up at me.  “I’m gonna keep you in my pocket, ok?” I ask, though I know it’s more like telling him what I’ll do with him than actually asking.  It hurts my heart in a strange way, recognizing that.  “I.. really don’t have time to deal with this right now, but you’ll be plenty warm there.  I’m so sorry, but I have to go.”  A quick apology will have to suffice until later.

Lowering him into my pocket and dropping him carefully onto the bottom, I reach for the door handle.  However, I flinch away from it as a cry tears through the car.  “It’s ok; you’re alright!  I’m not gonna-”  “It’s too hot!  I need something colder!  Please!  It burns!”  His cries get louder and more pained.  In an instant, I reach in to pull him out and he rushes for my fingers, clinging tightly to them.  I freeze, unsure if I should move with him so close.  “Th- Thank you,” I hear him gasp.  Still, I’m frozen.  What do I do if I can’t leave him in there?  He’s shaking so awfully against me.  His little body is almost drenched in sweat from struggling with the pain for so long.  Will he be alright?

“You’re.. you’re ok now?  Like that?” I ask worriedly.  He nods, face nearly pressed against my palm.  “Ok.  Try not to yell like that anymore unless it’s an emergency.  I don’t need to be kicked out of the testing room and searched.  Who knows what the punishment is for sneaking a tiny guy into the room, or what they’ll do with you for that matter.”  Now is really not the time to find a tiny person struggling for life, but I’ll do my best to help him.  If that means leaving the testing room on account of some fake ‘emergency’ to help him, then so be it.  I’d rather keep him alive over anything else.

Once I’m sure he’s comfortable, I step outside.  Every single movement I make becomes calculated with him in my pocket.  What if I walk too fast and hit him accidentally?  What if I sit down and crush him?  Did I put lotion on my hands this morning?  He’s sitting tucked right against my palm.  It would feel so cute if it wasn’t a literal tiny human sitting there.  My hands are peeling from the cold; is that the one with the torn skin or is that-  No, it’s this one.  My worries just start to fade as testing time officially starts and I focus on the questions in front of me instead of the ones in my head.

However, about an hour later, I feel light pressing against my fingers.  The tiny person’s hands shove at me until I move away.  Confused and worried, I take my hand out of my pocket and inconspicuously glance down.  His little face peers up at me and nods slightly, assuring me I’d done nothing wrong.  Oh, he’s probably warmed all the way up by now!  Returning to my work, I try not to dwell on anything.  Still, relief floods my system knowing that I’d saved him from what might’ve been the end of him.  He’ll be alright now.

Finishing the exam, I’m one of the first people out the door.  Finally, I can talk to my tiny stowaway.  Once I’m in the car again, I gently pull him out of my pocket and hold him out in the palm of my hand to get a good look at him.  As soon as I unfurl my fingers, he tucks himself into a tight ball — his heavy frightened breaths press against my palm.  “Hey, little guy?  I’m sorry about basically ignoring you earlier.  Finals are this week and I really need them to go well,” I try to explain.  “Are you alright?  You’re warmer than before; that’s good!  I hope my pocket wasn’t too claustrophobic for you.”

In small hesitant movements he gets up from his fetal position and sits on his knees on my palm, staring up at me with wide eyes.  It’s strange — his clothes seem to be hand-stitched — his hair mussed and tangled.  Bringing him just a little closer, I can count at least two different scars by just glancing over him.  How long has he been small for?  Did he shrink, or is he just.. something else entirely?

My thoughts are interrupted by his voice.  It’s much stronger now, and a lot clearer with him held up closer to my head.  There’s still a strange smallness about it that makes goosebumps dash along my arms.  “I- I’m ok,” he answers me.  I exhale in relief, and become entirely conscious of how the single breath ruffles his hair like a slight breeze.  “Thank goodness; I really hoped you weren’t beyond saving.  You were super cold when I found you, barely moving.  Speaking of which, why were you in my car to begin with?  And how in the world did you manage to shrink?”  Compared with his few words and tiny voice, I feel almost like I’m speaking over him talking so much, though it doesn’t seem like he has much to say.  The guy’s probably stunned enough by the scale of everything.

I watch his brows furrow in deep thought, and for a moment I believe he’ll tell me he didn’t even shrink.  Perhaps he was magic.  But if he is, wouldn’t he have been able to save himself?  “I.. don’t remember.  I can’t remember what happened before I shrank, but I’m definitely a human.  Just smaller.”  Oh.  Oh!  Oh no, poor thing.  He’s probably been stuck so small for so long because he doesn’t even know where he is!  No memories, stuck small, freezing weather — no wonder he was desperate for help.  And now he’s begging me just to see him as a fellow human.

“Of course you’re still human!  Being smaller won’t change that!” I assure him, inadvertently cupping my hand a bit closer around him.  “I promise I don’t mean you any harm; I just want to make sure you’re ok.  Come on, I’ll take you back to my place — get you something to eat.”  I reach to put him away, but pause.  “Oh, I’m Alice, by the way.  Do you.. remember your name?”  He looks frightened for a moment.  “I don’t really remember much.”  That’s horrifying!  Not even your own name?  I don’t say that, though.  He probably already knows.  “I can try to help you remember it, but if you can’t, I guess you can try out a new one for the time being.”  He nods, relief settling some of his features.  Placing him down in the cupholder beside me, I head for home.

The drive is horribly silent — which I can’t stand.  I know my little companion probably needs time to think through some things now that I’ve finally noticed him.  Why haven’t I noticed him before?  Has he been in my car for a while?  Realization dawned on me that he’d really have to be an excellent climber to be able to get in.  He’s so small that the space between the edge of the car door and the ground must be over twice his height.

“Soo..” I begin awkwardly, “I do have a question you might know the answer to.”  The little guy looks up at me, seemingly startled out of thought.  “How did you get in my car?”  His face pales, and he looks.. frightened?  “I.. I snuck in yesterday morning.”  “You climbed up all the way into my car?  Why?”  He turns guilty away from me, like I caught him in a lie.  But why would he lie about how he got in here?  “Uhh.. it was cold outside.  Your car was warmer.. at the time.”  Is he just embarrassed that he got stuck in here?  It must’ve been rather freezing when it snowed yesterday.  He.. could’ve died in here — alone!  I’d have found his body whenever I next went to clean out my car.

“Oh!  I locked you in here and then everything froze last night!  Poor thing!  I’m so sorry!  I wouldn’t have left you here like that if I’d known you were in the car!”  I feel so awful for believing he was trying to lie.  Poor little guy was probably just having a hard time talking about it.  The thought of his near-death while I wasn’t even there just occurred to me now, but he’d actually experienced the bitter cold that had likely come close to killing him.  Of course he’d be nervous thinking about it.

Trying to change the subject, I begin ranting about finals.  It’s the next thing on my mind I can think to talk about.  I make it all the way back to my apartment, then turn to my tiny passenger.  Flattening out my hand, I leave it gently on the center console right beside the cupholder he’s sitting in.  “Here, hop on and I’ll bring you inside,” I tell him, “Would you like something to eat?”  He nods, climbing up and sliding slowly and hesitantly into my palm.  Even if he’s been tiny for quite a while, getting picked up by someone so much bigger than you must be a crazy terrifying experience.  I slip him in my pocket as I step outside.  I can’t risk someone seeing him, it just.. feels wrong to flaunt him around in the open for people to ogle at.  He probably doesn’t want the attention drawn to himself anyway.

I let him out again when we’re safely behind the closed door of my apartment.  Gently, I set him on the counter by taking off my whole jacket and putting it down.  He’d been so frightened when I’d plucked him out of my pocket earlier, and I didn’t want to frighten him again.  Patiently, I wait for him to come out to the countertop.  “What would you like?” I ask kindly.  He glances around the room, then points to the pantry.  “What do you have in there?”  Shrugging, I wander over and peer in.  “Well, let’s see.. we have soup crackers, some cheese puffs, popcorn, mac and cheese — but I’d have to cook it first, obviously.  “Oh!  But I think you’ll like- ” Glancing back at the counter to see if he was interested in any of it, I find that he’s disappeared from view.  

“Hey, umm.. little guy?  Where’d you go?” I ask, stepping around the counter to the other side.  He’s not there, either.  I lift up my coat, but he’s still not there.  “Where- Where’d you go?!  This isn’t funny!  You can’t just disappear!”  Unless…  I gasp and quickly scan the floor.  Please don’t tell me he fell off.  I- If he fell…  “Hey!  Please come back!  I- I’m not that scary, am I?  Why’d you leave?  I don’t-”  I don’t understand; there’s not a trace of him on the floor or the counter.  “Come back!  Whatever it is you’re frightened of, I’ll change it!  Please don’t run off and get hurt somewhere!  If you want to take care of yourself, that’s fine!  Just.. please let me know so I don’t think something happened to you!”

Hours tick by as I scour the floor and countertops, searching for my little missing guest.  All the while I call out various comforting things, trying to convince him to at the very least let me know that he’s alive.  Still nothing.  I can’t find him, and something tells me he doesn’t want to be found.  By 4:00 in the morning, there’s still no answer, and I go to bed without one.  I try to go to sleep, but all I can do is lay down and stare at the ceiling trying to listen for the sounds of something small moving around.  Only at about 6:00 in the morning do I finally fall asleep for a good two hours before my alarm startles me awake.  At least I don’t have an exam today.  I just have to study.

I trudge down the hall to the kitchen and freeze.  He could still be on the floor somewhere.  Continuing my trek with much more caution than before, I make a bowl of cereal and sit down numbly.  I stare out at nothing in particular; thoughts jumble in my head.  My lack of sleep and my severe rise in anxiety combined to cause an awful feeling in my head.  My stomach also started to feel the effects, and I left the kitchen only a few spoonfuls of food fuller than I had when I walked in.

Studying didn’t help my mood much, but every time I took a break from it, my mind would wander back to the tiny person potentially wandering around my home, too scared to ask for help when he likely needed it.  Lunchtime came and went — I wasn’t hungry.  I tried studying again by watching a few videos my professor posted.  Those didn’t seem to make sense to me, and my anxiousness morphed into an ugly frustrated anger.  “No!  What?  How?!  I used the same formula and everything!  What the heck?!”  Crumpling my paper in a messy ball, I can already feel an angry scream building in my throat.

As quickly as my anger emerges, however; it fizzes out.  My scream comes out as a sob and I fall against my desk.  Nothing had gone right for me.  Finals week is the absolute worst week for my luck to run out.  “I’m gonna fail,” I whisper, “I can’t do this.  Why is everything going so wrong?  I just wanted to help him; why’d he run away?  I feel sick.  What if he’s hurt somewhere and can’t call for help?  What if he’s too scared to call for help?”  Tears fall down my face and sobs wrench out of my throat in gasps.  My empty stomach roils painfully as I cry.

“Alice!  It’s ok, I-”  At the sound of a voice too small to have come from any normal person, I whirl around in my seat, furiously rubbing my eyes so I could see through my tears.  I can’t find him on the floor, just like the night before, but I know I heard the tiny person I’d rescued.  “Hello?” I call into the seemingly empty room.  A voice responds.  “It’s.. It’s ok.  It’s me, the ‘little guy’.”  I gasp a relieved breath, then stand, peering around the room for where he might be.  His voice is so small I can’t tell where it’s coming from.  “You’re… alright?” There’s a long silence, then: “Yeah.”

“Oh thank god!”  I breathe fully for what feels like the first time in days.  “You made me so worried for you!  Are you hungry still?  I- I know you haven’t eaten in a while since you.. ran off when I tried to get something for you.”  I myself felt like I was starving.  I could only imagine what he might be feeling.  I’m kept waiting for a long time — so long that I’m afraid he’ll leave if I don’t say something.  Steadying my voice with another deep breath, I offer an apology.  “Look, I’m sorry I scared you off…  I don’t know what happened, but I’m willing to work with you to try and get your memories and your old life back.  I can’t imagine how terrifying it is to suddenly be so small, not even knowing how you got that way-”  “Stop.”

I do, though I’m scared of how hollow his voice sounds.  “That’s.. a lie.  I remember everything just fine.”  Has he given up on finding a way back to normal?  Does he remember something awful that he hasn’t told me?  No wonder it felt like he was lying to me.  “So.. you just didn’t want to tell me how you shrank?” I ask, a bit confused.  “No.. Alice, I- I never shrank.  I’ve always been this way.”  My mind goes blank for a moment.  “Y- Wh-  H-” I stutter, only half-words forming on my tongue.  “I’m not human, Alice.”

He’s…  He’s what?  Slowly, I approach the bookshelf in front of me — where I can hear his voice now that he’s spoken enough for me to locate it.  Kneeling on the floor, I gently bend down to peer beneath it.  I’d already checked all the shelves to no avail.  There’s a small crack in the baseboard of the wall behind the shelf.  “Is that why you left?” I ask softly, “I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.”  His voice becomes a bit harsher.  “You promised the tiny human me that you wouldn’t hurt me,” he corrects.  I blink confusedly, slowly connecting the dots.  “You thought I would go back on my word if I knew you were lying to me?  Or you just.. thought that I wouldn’t care because you’re not human?” 

But that’s awful!  Does he really think I would do that?  My distracted gaze flits back to the crack in the wall.  He’s there — standing in a position like he’s ready to flee at any sign of aggression, but he’s there.  “I promised you that I wouldn’t hurt you.  You.  No matter who or what you were.”  His expression shifts guiltily, and he glances away from me.  “I’m a bit upset you wanted to lie to me about… everything.  But I can’t be mad at you for being scared of me.  I won’t ask you to talk to me anymore if you don’t want to, but just know, I’m glad you’re alright.”

A small smile edges along his face as he turns back to me.  Carefully, the little.. person steps out of his hiding place.  “You- You really mean that?” He asks, “You don’t care that I’m not one of you?”  I exhale a tiny laugh and shake my head.  “Of course not, don’t be silly!  You’re safe here, I promise.  I understand if you want to go home, though.  You probably have others of your kind to get back to, and I’ve accidentally trapped you in my house.”  His steps falter and guilt briefly dashes across his face again.   “Well, about that…  I kind of.. live here.”  

Do I know anything about you?  As he relayed what really happened, it turns out I really don’t.  The only thing I do know about him that’s correct is the fact that he can fit in the palm of my hand, and of course the fact that he’d been freezing to death when I found him.  Beyond that, it’s like a whole new world just opened up to me.  I guess that makes sense, though.  He is an entirely different species, which is insane to think about.  I always thought we’d find human-intelligent beings on another planet before we ever found it here again.

“I actually did remember my name,” the little being — he told me he’s a borrower — confesses after talking to me about his life beneath my floors.  “It’s just.. not really a human-sounding one, so I couldn’t exactly give you it.  My name’s Fennel, but I mostly just go by Fen.”  “Fen?” I ask.  Well, it certainly isn’t a human-sounding name.  I offer Fen a bright smile.  “Nice to finally really meet you!  How long have you been living here.. with me?”  His eyes trail off in thought, “I moved in after you were already here, but you were still unpacking things, so I don’t think it was very far off from when you moved in, too.”  So we’ve been living here together the whole time?!

“Where were you living before?”  Fen shrugs, “Eh, another apartment in this building.  The new people were too loud, so I moved out.”  Wow, I wish I could’ve done that in my last apartment.  I had to wait for the lease to expire.  “I wish I could just pack up and slip into a new home whenever I have problems with the neighbors,” I tell him, mind already wandering to what I would do at his size, with his freedom.  

“It’s harder than it seems,” Fen sighs, “I have to rebuild a livable space for myself every time.”  Oh, right.  Maybe I wouldn’t want to be a borrower after all.  I sit back upright and my back cracks loudly as I do.  “Hey, if you don’t mind, can you maybe come out from beneath there?” I ask, “It hurts my back to try to bend all the way to the floor to look at you.”  

He’s hesitant, but Fen slowly makes his way over to the edge of the bookshelf.  When he finally steps out from beneath it, I gently lay my hand in front of him palm-up, like I had in the car when I took him inside.  “Can I hold you?  Please?”  This feels like a dream.  Did I even find you, or did I fall asleep trying to study?  To my relief, he gives me a slight nod.  I watch in awe as he climbs up onto my palm — hands and feet no bigger than a fingernail.  With Fen safely in my palm, I slowly and carefully lift him up to my face to ensure I’m really awake.  

Concern crunches my eyebrows together.  He has an empty fearful look, staring blankly through me with tensed muscles.  “Fen?”  His hands dart to his head, ducking beneath them for a tiny bit of safety.  “Are you ok?” I ask softly, “You look sick.  If this makes you uncomfortable, I can put you back down.  You didn’t have to get on.”  I can hear him breathing hard, but he stammers: “I- I’m alright.”  Shaking my head, I cup my other hand around him gently.  “You aren’t, though.  You’re shaking.”  With all the caution l can muster, I lower the pad of my finger against his chest.  Just as I thought, his breaths rise and fall heavily against my finger — even his heartbeat thunders rapidly against it.  He’s so.. delicate.  Sitting in my hand like that, I just can’t describe the feeling in any way besides tiny and fragile and alive.  

My eyes water in a sudden rush of relief, and I gently bring him to my chest, hugging his tiny form the best I can without crushing him.  I finally feel relieved for the first time that week.  “It’s alright now,” I exhale.  Holding him there, I can feel his breathing slow and he relaxes in my light grip.  Guiding him out in front of me again, I watch him curl up sleepily in my palm.  His back presses softly into my cupped fingers as he blearily looks up at me.  Awww, why does he have to look so cute like that?  I’m sure he’s exhausted.

Glancing around the room, I notice that one of the smaller blankets on my bed had fallen to the floor.  I scoop it up and place Fen down on my desk.  He stumbles off, and I have to quickly grab him and lower him down before he falls face-first on the wooden surface.  I bundle up the blanket so it’s reminiscent of a little mattress and pillow, then place it in the corner of my desk.  Fen sleepily trudges over and slides into it.  Checking to make sure he wouldn’t fall over the edge of my desk by blocking off the side with a book, I settle down and begin re-working the math problem that had gotten me so worked up earlier.   Just as I finish it, Fen rolls over in his makeshift bed and mumbles something quietly.  Get some sleep little guy; goodness knows you need it.  I need it too, but more than that, I need to eat.  After checking the problem against the key — I’d solved it correctly that time — I snuck off to the kitchen to make myself a quick meal before returning to my work.  With Fen sleeping on my desk, I had to plug in my headphones to listen to the videos, but that didn’t bother me much.  I had to stop yelling so much to avoid waking him, but I needed to calm myself down anyway.  It wasn’t long after finishing the worksheet that I fell asleep right there against my desk, with my tiny roommate sleeping soundly beside me.

[akirathedramaqueen]

Two completely random things I might regret dropping here later. But I think I need to get it out of my system and maybe it'll help me stop being a whiny insufferable grouch I've become the last days partially because of today's episode coming out.

TW for self-hatred (mine) and suicidal thoughts (not mine, don't call psych ward on me, please; and it's not in the post itself, only in the song it mentions later on).

One.

Waiting for Ghostfuckers fucked me up completely. Like not in a fun way. In a 'I've considered dropping this show despite how much I love it' way. Because it touches on a topic so deep and personal to me I am not sure I want to be inadvertendly called out like that. So I stopped checking tumblr, I avoided any HB mentions, I couldn't write two lines in the fic without being triggered (so if I ignored your tags or messages or replies—sorry!). Don't know since when I've become so sensitive. I actually took pride in being quite callous to everything. But apparently here I am.

It's not like the show is the sole reason my mental health went down the drain in the past weeks. Of course not. It's just that was the last fucking drop which sent me spiraling.

If anything, I dare to say it actually helped me understand myself better in many ways and learn to try to accept some fuck-ups I've done with my life, that it might be just fine to be fucked up a little.

Reason for all this rambling? None. Guess I just relate to Blitzø hard in this way and I am afraid to see even uglier side of myself. And maybe if you feel the same way about the silly demon show, I don't blame you, I am with you. But fuck it, I embrace it. Fucking hit me with that episode and leave me in shambles. I'm not ready, but hey, I am the AT and the FUCKING PENGUIN SHORT survivor, it can't be worse than that, right?

RIGHT?

(Watch me fucking crawl in the corner and wail in like? 8 hours from now on?)

Two.

I have that song on repeat, and its chorus is what I think characterizes all Blitzø's actions. Not the song itself though. This is the case where I take the chorus out of context deliberately, because the rest of it, well . . . this is TW-worthy. Suicidal thoughts TW-worthy. Consider it your warning.

So I'm just focusing on this part.

My personal hell, I'll bury it, bury it Weight of the world, I'll carry it, carry it Pile it all on, I've gotta be strong For somebody, for somebody Put my pain in a pill, I'll swallow it, swallow it Too numb to feel, I'm hollow, I'm hollow I have to hold on, I've gotta be strong For somebody, for somebody Somebody else

It's so Blitzø, isn't it?

Burying his trauma so that he can get through another day. Not realizing it keeps chipping away from his life however he tries ignoring it.

Swallowing his immense guilt and act brash. Put his pride on display, not realizing it's not the opposite of shame, but its source (I thank ATLA for this great quote).

Taking responsibility for literally everything happening around him. No matter if he could help it or not.

He's gotta be strong, he has to hold on and pile it all on. For somebody. Somebody else, who matters more than he does.

[purity-in-heart]

[Please Read] I should not have to explain this

People, if you're going to chat with me, please, for the love of god, tell me your honest age. And don't lie, either, cause that's just worse in some ways.

Ok, so, I wound up chatting with somebody who I will not specify by as much as I can. We were having a cardiophile chat and we decided to take it to video so I can hear her heartbeat with a mic. Now, the thing is, I feel incredibly stupid right now. I mention wanting to see her chest, but only out of the expression of a wish cause I know a lot of people aren't always comfortable. To my surprise, she says yes and, her face, I won't give a single detail about especially of what made me tilt my head a bit but something made me think, 'wait, how old is this girl?' only to settle on the idea of, 'oh, maybe she's older than she looks', and for the love of god, I don't think that lightly, I had a reason to think that. Later she goes brb. She admits her parents caught her.

Jesus- alright, read carefully, yeah? I'm not gonna shift or place any full-on blame. At least by a little bit, this girl was the victim of being young and dumb, however she should not have done anything that would expose her identity or herself. And admittedly, I was stupid for not seeing the first potential sign. Don't ever even slightly think you could be wrong if it could mean the person on the other end is actually under 18. This girl never explicitly gave a sign or hint that she was underage, either, but that's not always a good excuse. Meanwhile, last I had a chat, I unintentionally made somebody uncomfortable as far as I can tell and I felt so guilty that I took a small break to sit on what I had made somebody feel. I finally get back into the swing of things with a new rule of only having a cardio-chat if somebody messages me first and this is what happens. I was really wrestling on how or even if I should post about this, but one thing I realized was that not saying a thing is probably worse.

I won't take another break for being just as foolish but I'm definitely gonna sit on this for a minute. I hate how it took me a minute to accept that she was a minor. I found myself thinking of every possible reason to tell me she was actually an adult at first, including if I should not think about it at all.

Again, for god's sake, be honest, responsible and tell your age first. I will not chat with minors. I will, however, post this under the risk that I'm not relaying my sincerity well enough (That's really one of my biggest fears when making a post like this, that I won't be able to verbally explain and show that I'm legit being serious and not trying to cover my own ass with a fake sense of remorse or something - but it's a fear we all have to face). I don't wanna look like a liar or like I'm shifting the blame or anything. But my final message in this post is about more than about taking responsibility for your actions and to tell me your real age before chatting with me or frankly, anybody: People who are growing up need to know that it's ok to explore and experiment, it's part of growing up, and of course it's fun - Hell, even I did it a little, I wasn't always an adult, you know, it's how I found the rest of my rhythm as a cardiophile - but Jesus H. Christ, we need to educate and teach them that there are lines to draw, like, don't chat with strangers - especially on anything sexual, be careful, make sure they know which lines not to cross or cross yet, and seriously: DO. NOT. SHOW. YOUR. FACE. The internet isn't the safest place yet. What's more important? How hard you drive the message home or what you relay and how you do it?

[caitimetravels]

she’s insignificant

chapter 3: the dangers inside

the umbrella academy x reader

disclaimer: i do not own the plot/storyline of the netflix tv series and i do not own the umbrella academy characters.

warnings: swearing, mentions of death

masterlist

y/n stared at the blue energy in the courtyard before deciding to join her siblings as they rushed to see what it was. as she ran down the stairs she caught sight of klaus holding a fire extinguisher.

"what are you doing?" she caught up with him.

"something" he shrugged, bursting out the door first. "out of the way!"

"thats not going to- klaus what the hell?" y/n went to stop him only to watch as he tried to extinguish the mass of energy. she shook her head in disbelief, stepping beside vanya.

klaus chucked the extinguisher when he realised it wouldn't work.

"what is that gonna do?" allison shouted over the loud noise. klaus threw his hands up.

"i don't know. do you have a better idea?" he stepped back in surprise as another flash came from the portal. luther pulled klaus back.

"everyone get behind me!" and in true sibling rivalry diego nodded, shielding vanya and y/n.

"yeah, get behind us!"

they watched, brows furrowing at the familiar figure that dropped to the ground. as they stepped closer the vortex disappeared.

"is that-?" y/n looked up at vanya, peeking around diego to see.

there, in a too large sized suit, stood their missing brother. he pushed himself to his feet taking in their appearance.

"does anyone else see little number five is that just me?" klaus questioned as they walked closer. the said boy stared down at himself in confusion before looking back at them.

"shit" he cursed.

--------------------------------------------------

they all moved back into the kitchen, letting five do as he pleased while he explained what he needed to.

he placed a chopping board and knife on the table while the others stood at the other end. y/n stood off to the corner, not entirely comfortable with them after being accused of murder. "what's the date? the exact date"

five walked around, grabbing bread to make himself a sandwich. vanya answered, "the 24th"

"of what?" five pushed walking back over.

"march"

"good" he pulled out two pieces of bread, laying them on the chopping board.

"so, are we going to talk about what just happened?" luther raised an eyebrow, expectantly but five stayed silent. "its been 17 years!" luther stood, frustrated but five wasn't taking any of his bullshit.

"it's been a lot longer than that" the shorter boy walked towards him before blinking behind him to grab the marshmallows. luther sighed,

"i haven't missed that"

"where'd you go?" diego piped up, unfazed.

"the future" five sighed, "and it's shit by the way" he opened up the bag of marshmallows.

"called it!" klaus raised his finger.

"do you want one?" five looked up at y/n, referring to the sandwich, a soft gleam in his eyes. the others shared a look, of course he had only missed her. she gently shook her head with a small smile. "i should have listened to the old man" five walked to the fridge, pulling out a jar. "he knew. travelling through space is one thing, travelling through time is a toss of the dice"

he paused as he opened the peanut butter, looking up at them again before noticing klaus' attire. "nice dress"

"oh, danke" klaus twirled loose material around. allison rolled her eyes.

"how did you get back?"

"in the end i had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time" he continued making his sandwich like he hadn't just shocked them.

"that makes no sense" diego scoffed,

"well, it would if you were smarter" five shrugged, ignoring the way diego stood up to fight him. luther held him back.

"did you put a decimal point in the wrong spot?" y/n asked, surprising the others. she crossed her arms, thinking "it was probably a miscalculation in your proof of the existence of a bound for the number of limit cycles of planar polynomial vector fields of fixed degree."

five paused, thinking it over before realising she was right. "it should have been 0.57" he mumbled.

"how long were you there?" luther changed the subject, obviously confused.

"45 years" five went back to his sandwich making. "give or take"

everyone sat back down in shock.

"so what are you saying? that you're 58?!" luther narrowed his eyes in disbelief. there was no way.

"no" five looked up, speaking through gritted teeth. "my consciousness is 58. apparently my body is now 16 again"

"how does that even work?" vanya croaked out, still shocked at the situation.

"delores kept saying the equations were off" five shrugged, stepping away and looking off into the distance as he took a bite of his sandwich. "bet she's laughing now"

"delores?" vanya asked. y/n froze, he had kept her? at the girl's movement, or lack thereof, allison looked over at her, raising her eyebrows.

y/n shook her head, waving it off.

five picked up the newspaper on the table, staring at the picture of their father.

"hm.. guess i missed the funeral"

"how'd you know about that?" luther questioned, defensive.

"what part of the future do you not understand?" five narrowed his eyes, slightly amused by his brothers incompetence. "heart failure, huh?"

"yeah-" diego started only to be cut off by luther.

"no" there was silence for a moment before a kitchen knife stabbed into the table beside luther's hand.

"if i had murderous intent, luther, you'd be the first on my list" y/n scoffed, walking out.

they all stared after her in shock.

"nice to see nothing's changed" five sighed before following her out.

"thats it?" allison asked, turning towards him as he walked. "thats all you have to say?"

"what else is there to say? circle of life" he called back.

--------------------------------------------------

vanya walked up to five in the parlour where he stood staring at his painting.

"nice to know dad didn't forget me" five turned to her, "read your book by the way.. found it in the library that was still standing"

he started to walk around, noticing y/n sitting on the balcony above. she had her legs dangling through the bars, calmly reading a book. he turned back to vanya.

"thought it was pretty good, all things considered" he stared her down, "definitely ballsy, giving up the family secrets. sure that went over well"

"they hate me" vanya frowned,

"well there are worse things that can happen" five was obviously trying to cheer her up, in his own way.

"you mean like what happened to ben?" there was a pause, both thinking it over.

"was it bad?" five asked softly, he knew y/n was still listening. he heard the faint sound of a book shutting. he looked away as vanya nodded.

"y/n had a hard time dealing with it.. the worst of all of us. dad forbid her from going on missions after her reaction.."

"her reaction?" five turned back, eyebrows furrowing, this wasn't in vanya's book.

"she nearly tore our souls out.. she was devastated and couldn't control her emotions. dad said it helped her though, something about a new ability. he trained her alone from then, forcing her to find you" vanya shrugged, sighing, going silent.

"find me?" five pushed, "what do you mean find me?"

"she said she did.. did she not?" vanya looked surprised now.

"no, no she did.. just didn't stay long is all" five shook his head, frowning.

"yeah well, they stopped trying when she lied to dad"

"she lied?" five looked back up at where she was previously sitting but now she was gone, the only thing left behind was her book and a wisp of smoke.

--------------------------------------------------

"ben.. i'm- i'm scared" eight sat cross legged in front of his statue. "my powers are getting stronger and i'm scared to hurt the others. i wish you were still here" she refused to cry no matter how much she wanted to. she couldn't let the same thing happen.

"i'm scared ben. what if i can't control it? what if hurt somebody? you're not here to help me and i-.. it hurts sometimes. dad doesn't understand, he never did but it hurts to suppress my emotions like he wants me to. we try so hard and he still never thinks we're enough.." she paused, pulling her knees up to her chest. "what if i am weak? what if he's right?"

unbeknownst to her ben's ghost sat beside her. "you're not weak" he shook his head, moving to look at her face. "you'll never be weak, you're so strong. please keep being strong for me" he pleaded with her as she continued to blame herself. he hated this. he hated not being there for her. he just wanted her to be okay.

--------------------------------------------------

y/n walked beside five, standing under his umbrella with him. they didn't speak as they walked back out into the courtyard. the siblings all stood in line with luther in front of them, carrying their dad's ashes.

"did something happen?" grace looked at them all, smiling despite the occasion. they all looked up at her.

"dad died.." allison answered, confused. "remember?"

"oh, yes of course" grace nodded, expression turning more somber.

"is mom okay?" allison asked, now worried about how grace was acting.

"yeah, yeah she's fine" diego quickly defended, "she just needs to rest, you know, recharge" allison looked incredulous but dropped it nonetheless.

pogo stepped forwards, looking up at luther. "whenever you're ready, dear boy"

luther breathed out, opening the lid and dropping the ashes in a pitiful pile. they all frowned.

"probably would have been better with some wind" luther griped,

"does anyone wish to speak?" pogo ignored it, looking at the rest of them. everyone stayed silent, looking away. "very well.. in all regards, sir reginald hargreeves made me what i am today, for that alone i shall forever be in his debt. he was my master and my friend and i shall miss him very much.." he paused, "he leaves behind a complicated legacy-"

"he was a monster" diego cut off, still staring down at the ashes. klaus laughed. "he was bad person and a worse father. the world's better off without him-"

"diego" allison scolded, glaring at him in surprise.

"my name is number two. you know why?" he looked over at her. "because our father couldn't be bothered to give us actual names, he had mom do it"

"would anyone like something to eat?" grace asked, smiling again, unaware of what was happening.

"no, its okay mom" vanya denied, albeit confused.

"oh, okay"

"look, you wanna pay your respects" diego stepped out in front of them, "go head, but at least be honest about the kind of man he was" he looked at pogo now.

"you should stop talking now" luther warned, anger growing. diego glared at him for a moment before fully turning to face him.

"you know, you of all people should be on my side here, number one"

"i am warning you-" diego ignored him,

"after everything he did to you" y/n sighed, crossing her arms to her chest, fighting wasn't going to fix any of them. klaus and five shared a look. "he had to ship you a million miles away"

"diego stop talking-" luther tried again. diego was definitely hitting a nerve. he jabbed a finger into luther's chest.

"that's how much he couldn't stand the sight of you!" luther grabbed his arm and swung at his head. diego ducked. they begun fighting while everyone else backed away.

"boys! stop this at once!" pogo attempted to stop them, moving back despite this.

klaus held an arm out to shield five and y/n. the former slapped it away. they continued to fight, diego egging him on and landing several punches. klaus began to chant while vanya yelled at them to stop.

"klaus" y/n warned, gaining both his and five's attention. her eyes were turning black, she was struggling.

"y/n? are you okay?" five hadn't been there, he didn't know what she would do if she lost control. pogo walked away, not wanting to stay. klaus nervously watched y/n while the others watched luther and diego fight.

"i don't have time for this" five sighed, beginning to walk away, leaving y/n with klaus under his small pink umbrella.

that was when it happened. y/n froze as they knocked ben's statue.

"aw" klaus complained while allison glared at them.

"and there goes ben's statue"

"klaus?" y/n's voice scared them all. she sounded weak. she gripped his jacket, tightly. "klaus"

"what's wrong?" he looked down at her, watching as she fought her emotions. her eyes were turning black but she kept fighting it.

diego pulled out his knife and vanya's shouting at him to stop made it harder for y/n to calm herself. he threw it at luther, cutting his arm.

"klaus" she called again and he held her arm unsure of what to do. "i-i can't.. i can't-" she let out a pained whine as her eyes darkened, she was letting go. suddenly diego and luther let out shouts of pain.

"what's going on?!" allison watched them, confused and distraught. vanya quickly left their mother's side, pulling y/n into her.

"its okay, you're okay" vanya whispered to her, trying to calm her. "it can be fixed, you're okay, just relax. try to relax" listening to vanya's heartbeat she slowly calmed down, the blackness of her eyes seeping away and diego and luther straightened, no longer in pain.

y/n stared at them in shock and guilt before shaking her head and running inside. she locked herself in her room again. she was truly a demon.

--------------------------------------------------

one by one the siblings left, y/n watched sadly as they all abandoned her again. she was always left alone, the family problems only got bigger when they got together. she sighed, maybe she was better off alone.

--------------------------------------------------

y/n looked up from her book as she heard frantic footsteps around the mansion. peeking out her door she noticed vanya slowing down in front of five's room.

"oh thank god" she disappeared through his doorway but y/n could still hear her voice. "i was worried sick about you"

five had talked to vanya? why hadn't he come to her?

"sorry i left without saying goodbye" five's voice answered softly. what had he been doing? y/n quietly left her room to hear better. she wanted to be apart of her brother's plans too. she didn't want to be left out anymore.

"no, i'm the one that should be sorry. i was dismissive and i guess i didn't know how to process what you were saying.." vanya paused, "i still can't to be honest"

"maybe you were right to be dismissive" five huffed, that didn't sound like him at all? what was he really doing? "maybe it wasn't real after all.. it felt real. but well, like you said the old man did say time travel could contaminate the mind"

well vanya referred him to a therapist y/n tried to sense the room. something else was going on. carefully using her power she felt another person.. klaus. when vanya walked out y/n quickly turned to smoke, gliding along the floor, past five who watched vanya leave. klaus pulled himself out of the closet.

"that's so touching, all that stuff about family and dad and time"

"will you shut up? she'll hear you" five warned him, walking back over.

"you're lying to vanya?" y/n appeared next to klaus, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

"it's nothing you should worry about" five dismissed before looking klaus over again. "i thought i told you to put on something professional"

"what? this my nicest outfit" klaus gestured to it. y/n snorted when five scoffed.

"we'll raid the old man's closet"

"whatever, as long as i get paid" klaus shrugged, beginning to walk behind five.

"when the job is done" they stopped just above the stairs.

"so, where are we going?" she followed along, smiling innocently at five who raised an eyebrow at her.

"not we, just klaus and i" five shook his head, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"five" she frowned,

"y/n" he mocked.

"just let me come, please don't leave me in the dark. i just want to help you" she pleaded, she had missed him.

he thought it over before sighing, "fine" he turned to walk again but klaus stopped him.

"but just so we're clear on the finer details" he waved his hand around, talking over the plan. "i just got to go into this place and pretend to be your dear old dad, correct?"

"yeah, something like that" five agreed, exasperated.

"what's our cover story?" klaus continued, ignoring five's look of annoyance.

"what? what are you talking about?" five shared a confused look with y/n who shrugged.

"i mean was i young when i had you, like 16.. like young and terribly misguided" five agreed just to get him to stop but he didn't. "your mother, that slut, whoever she was, we met at.. the disco and you can be his sister"

"i am his sister?" y/n raised an eyebrow, but klaus only smiled, clicking his fingers.

"okay, remember that. oh my god the sex was amazing"

y/n scoffed, walking away first, five following. "what a disturbing glimpse into that thing you call a brain"

"don't make me put you in time out" klaus waved a finger at him.

as they walked out the door onto the street y/n paused.

"what's wrong, baby sis?" klaus asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "you're not backing out already?"

"no!" she quickly denied, looking up at him as she snapped out of her starstruck daze. "it's just.. i haven't left the house in 16 years.."

klaus and five shared a sorrowful look. what had happened to her?

tags: @rxses-and-reverie

[cafedanslanuit]

♡   —   pairing: kazutora x reader

♡   —   summary: after a long day at work, you want nothing but to spend a calm night with your boyfriend. however, you have no idea this is the night were all his demons finally get the best of him.

♡   —   tags/warnings: female reader, angst, breakups, hurt feelings everywhere, mention on mental illnesses and nightmares, based on ben platt’s song ‘carefully’, mention of tora’s job in one of the future timelines.

♡   —   a/n: i enjoyed writing kazutora so. damn. much. also, i’m quite proud of this one and the small details i added~ thank you @ofoceansandtombstones​​ for being my lovely beta <3

♡   —  masterlist

And all this time you've had a gentle way of holding me

So could you please release me that way too?

— “carefully” by Ben Platt

“It’s open, come in!”

The first thing Kazutora sees when he opens the door of your apartment is you, kneeling on the kitchen floor and picking up pieces of a broken baking dish. Red sauce has splattered everywhere and his mind betrays him for a second, imagining an accident far worse than what has truly happened. He blinks twice and starts to notice the small details that finally slow down the fast beating of his heart. There are pieces of chicken breasts next to the open oven door and what he thinks are sliced carrots next to your right knee.

You hiss when you pick up a piece of the shattered glass, the sharp end pinching your finger. Kazutora comes back to his senses, widening his eyes as he realizes he’s just been standing there.

“Hey, let me. You’ll cut yourself,” he warns, walking up to you. Grabbing both your hands, he eases you into your feet and then guides you to the living room. “I’ll take care of it,” he promises as he goes back to the kitchen and starts cleaning up the mess.

You let yourself fall on the sofa with a loud thud and let out an exasperated sigh.

“I just had the most awful day,” you whine, taking off your apron and leaving it on the arm of the sofa.  “Work was hell, I got scolded by something that I didn’t do— like always, only this time my boss was all like: ‘You gotta be more careful, we wouldn’t want to lose such a valuable employee’. Like he was going to fire me over someone else’s mistake?!”

Your voice is getting louder by the minute and you take advantage of the fact Kazutora is in another room to keep the volume. You have been waiting the entire day to see him and vent about what a trainwreck you day had been. Just as always, he listens intently, the only noise coming from the kitchen being a soft scraping sound as he picks up everything and throws it to the trash. 

“Then, I went to the store and of course they had run out of basil. Tell me, how does a store that big run out of basil?” you ask. There’s no answer from the kitchen so you continue. “I mean, yeah, I could have gone to another store but my feet were killing me. I’m just not meant to work in heels the entire day,” you sigh tiredly, swinging your feet.

You reposition yourself, now sitting cross-legged on the sofa. Putting your right hand on your left shoulder, you stretch your neck, feeling your sore muscles releasing a bit of tension with a small ‘pop’.

“I ended up preparing something entirely different than I had planned for dinner. I tried to let it go but just as I was going to put it in the oven, it slipped my hands and—”

“I think we should break up.”

Words die in your lips the moment you listen to your boyfriend speak. The silence becomes loud and abrasive as you struggle to understand what was happening. Why was Kazutora breaking up with you with such a small voice? What had triggered him to come to that conclusion? Why had he decided to bring it up now? You turn your head to the kitchen door and watch him slowly make his way towards you, doubtful steps as he takes a seat on the other side of the sofa, avoiding your eyes at all costs.

“What?” you ask, your voice hoarse. His lips form a tight line and you see him swallowing nervously.

“I’m not doing okay— haven’t been for a while. I— it’s been two years since I left prison and I still haven’t— I don’t— I don’t know what I’m doing,” he explains, looking down at his hands.

You nod slowly, trying to comprehend where he’s coming from. Turning your body towards him, you take a deep breath before speaking.

“It’s okay not to know,” you assure him in a soft voice. “Just… take it slow. One day at a time and then I’m sure you’ll—”

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Kazutora confesses and you notice his voice wavering a little. “I— I keep having nightmares about— about that day and— and also about the motorcycle shop. Those two mix up and…” he takes one of his hands to the side of his head, his fingers grazing his temple. “And I’m hitting Baji in the head. And there’s so much blood— so, so much blood and—”

Leaning forward, you take his hands. They’re shaking and extremely cold and you rub your thumb over his knuckles, trying your best to soothe him.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now, Tora, you’re—”

Kazutora pulls his hands away hastily, leaving a tingling sensation on your palms.

“I can’t!” he says as he shakes his head. You spend a moment looking at your empty hands, never before having felt your boyfriend’s rejection. “I feel like I’m drowning and— You know what? I think relationships just aren’t for me,” he shrugs, his hands moving in exaggerated gestures. “That’s why I never cared for dating, never got myself involved in that kind of shit, not until—”

He finally looks at you and, fuck, you wish he didn’t. You’re not sure if you have the strength to deal with such hurtful discourse. You lick your lips and take yet another deep breath, deciding to ignore his hurtful remark.

“I’m… so sorry you’re feeling this way,” you say, slowing down your words, trying your best not to show how hurt you were. This isn’t him, you tell yourself. So no need for that tightness in your throat. “But you have to understand it’s not because of me. It’s because of everything that you’ve gone through and how hard it’s to deal with them. I don’t blame you, it is hard. But this… us,” you gesture to the both of you. “This is a good thing. Despite all the pain and hurt we’ve both been through, we—”

“Please, stop,” he says, raising his hand and pressing his eyelids together. “I can’t be with you anymore. That’s it, that’s all—”

“So you don’t love me anymore?” you counter. You scoff in disbelief, shaking your head. Kazutora’s eyes shoot open and you notice his pupils shaking in fear, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I love you,” he breathes out, and for a moment you see the boy you fell in love with in his amber eyes that are quickly filling with tears. “I do love you but it’s killing me. I feel like I’m dying,” he chokes out. He looks away from you once more and starts tugging at his fingers. “I’m rotting inside and I don’t know what to do to make it better. I just want it to stop. I want it to stop and— I don’t want you around when I’m like this. I want to figure out what the hell is happening and—”

“But if you love me and I love you then why—”

“I’m not happy with you!”

Kazutora widens his eyes, scared by his loud outburst. He parts his lips, silently muttering nonsense as he tries to come up with words that can make it better. You lower your head and he wants to punch himself over it. He doesn’t want to make you cry, not after everything you’ve done for him. Is he really going to be the person that hurt the one that made a home for him in her embrace? Is he going to hurt the only person that was brave enough to pick up the pieces of his shattered soul?

“I’m…” he babbles, in a soft voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

You snort. “No, you really did mean it, Tora.”

He can sense the hurt and sadness in your voice, even if now you’re the one that won’t look at him. He watches helplessly as you stand up and walk towards the living room window in complete silence. The apron you took off is still on the couch and the vast memories of all the times he embraced you while you were wearing it quickly fill his mind.

He wishes there was a way he could keep you. But no matter how much he wants to, he knows there really is no other way. He’s thought about this countless times. He has gone to work without getting proper sleep, stared at his blank tv screen for hours on end, trying to come up with a plan where he could keep you. Was staying with the person he loved the most too much to ask?

No matter in how many shades of light or with how much care he handled the memory of you, the only way he could spare you the greatest amount of pain was to leave you— even if he knew he’d end up shattering your heart as well.

Kazutora notices the way your fingers tightly close around the edge of the window, your knuckles turning white. He had come to terms that he’d lose you today, yet he never expected for it to be this way. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. If hating him would mend your wounds faster, then he’d take it. Anything that would make the heartache he was causing you a little bit lighter. He knew you were the last person on Earth that deserved to go to bed carrying that much pain in her soul.

Looking out the window, you focus on a small girl walking her dog on the street. It’s a brown labrador and by the size of it, it’s barely a puppy. Rather than walk, it jumps on its four legs, his little head looking back at the girl every chance he has as he happily wags his tail. The pet shop Kazutora and Chifuyu work at immediately comes to mind. Would it be like this from now on? Small things eliciting memories of your days together without your consent and leaving a sour taste in your mouth?

You will need to find a new commute, you think, as you had been stopping by the pet shop on your way home for the past year. Is there another bus that you could take? As you try to remember the lines and their respective routes, you’re engulfed by the memory of the first time Kazutora dozed off with his head resting on your shoulder as you rode the bus together. You close your eyes and you can clearly see his peaceful expression and slightly parted lips as he slept, his fingers tightly intertwined with yours. His breathing is slow and his hands are cold and you wish you could go back, even for a minute and place a kiss on top of his head, since you wouldn’t be able to do so from now on.

Where exactly had you failed? You had just been complaining about your day when he dropped the bomb. Did you complain too much? Did you talk too much? Or was it you the one that was too much? You tried your best and supported him as much as you could but as it turns out, it hadn’t been enough. Good intentions were nothing but useless as you were now saying goodbye to the man you had loved the most.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Kazutora’s cold knuckles against your cheek, wiping your tears. You gasp, startled by his touch and take a couple steps back until your back hits the wall. It takes a few seconds for him to bring his hand now, unsure on what to do next.

He looks so scared and small— it fills your heart with frustration. Your whole body is screaming to take a step forward and comfort him, cradle him in your arms like so many times before, assure him he’s safe with you and that he doesn’t have to worry anymore. That, if you can still go home to each other at the end of a bad day, you can take anything life throws at you.

But that’s the thing. You’re not each other’s home anymore. You don’t get to bury your face in his neck and hum happily when his perfume reaches your nose. You don’t get to have him take a nap on your lap as you watch a series or feel his lips ghost against yours seconds before colliding in a kiss.

You hate it. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking down at his feet. “Please, don’t cry.”

“You know what, Kazutora?” you say, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. You taste venom in your words, yet that doesn’t stop you. “If you’re not happy with me, then what are you doing here?”

He flinches at your words. Biting his inner cheek, he nods, still incapable of holding your gaze.

“Yeah, okay,” he mutters. “I’ll go. I really am sorry.”

Kazutora turns on his heel, walking towards the door. Maybe it’s the way you know he’s not coming back this time that makes your desperation afloat. You don’t want him to go and you also know you can’t make him stay. And even if somehow you could find a way to keep him by your side, it would be worthless.

He’s just not happy with you.

“Are you happy somewhere else, though?” you ask, your words leaving your mouth before your head has time to process them. He stumbles on his feet and stops. “Because if you just can’t manage to be happy, then it’s not on me.”

Kazutora doesn’t have to turn for you to know he’s second guessing himself. The next seconds feel like years as he just stands there, mid-way to the front door, thoughts so messy and loud you can almost hear them.

“That doesn’t matter,” he finally says with his back to you. He closes his fists and you see his shoulders rising and falling as he takes a deep breath. “This way you don’t have to deal with... with the mess I am and—”

“Oh, please, I knew what I was getting into when I started dating an ex-convict.”

The weight of your words fall onto you the moment they leave your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut, muttering a curse. It takes no time for you to walk towards Kazutora, standing between him and the door.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Tora, I didn’t— you know I didn’t mean it that way. Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you whimper, tears flowing free down your cheeks. Your wave your shaky hands, desperate to make your point across. “I just wanted to say I knew things would be difficult but I loved you— I love you and I—”

Kazutora shakes his head, a gentle yet sad smile on his face as he takes your hands in his. He holds them in front of his chest, squeezing them gently as they don’t stop trembling.

“Stop, it’s okay,” he assures you. “That’s what I am.”

“It’s not,” you protest. “I mean— yeah, but you’re more than that. You’re so much more than that. You’re caring, you’re noble— you’re so tender with the animals at your shop. You’re so sweet with me, always checking if I’ve eaten and offering to help me out if I have chores I need to do. You always come pick me up if I’m working late. You— you’re so fucking special to me.”

Kazutora’s lips form a tight line. “I wish I could see that,” he whispers.

“Then just— let me try. Let me try until you can look at yourself the way I do,” you almost beg. You let go of the hold he has on your hands to gently cradle his face. “I’ll do anything, but... don’t patronize me. I’m not a little girl. Whatever life throws at me, I’ve always been able to handle it. No— we’ll handle it. Together. Like it’s always been, you and me, I just— please, I don’t want you to go,” you cry. “We were going to be happy together, you were going to live with me and I’d give you half my drawers and half my closet and half… half everything. Please, don’t go. Don’t go, Tora.”

The sadness in his amber eyes only confirms what you’ve been fearing this whole time. You sob, your thumbs softly stroking his cheeks as you feel the world crumbling around you. This time, he doesn’t stop you, letting you cry as you hold his face, coming to terms with the fact he’s really leaving after all.

Your hands move to his hair, gently threading your fingers across his long, dark locks. Tracing the outline of his face, you push one of the dyed streaks away, only for it to fall back right where it was before. You can’t help the small smile that forms on your lips. He’s so pretty, you think, as the pads of your fingers gently caress his face. Your thumb grazes the space between his bottom lip and his chin and you dream of a world when he’s not saying goodbye, but rather falling asleep under your touch on your shared bed. You never knew loving someone as much as you loved him was possible-- yet the way your heart was crumbling in pieces was evidence of how much your soul was aching by being separated from the person it belonged to.

Sniffling, you rub your cheek against your shoulder to wipe your tears. You swallow before raising another question.

“Is this a… temporary thing? Or for good?” Your voice comes out in a whisper as you place down your hands on his shoulders.

“I don’t know,” he answers. He wants nothing more than to put his arms around your body like so many times before, but he’s aware that it will only make things more difficult. “But I don’t want to keep you waiting in vain. You should move on.”

Kazutora realizes how much he hates the idea as it leaves his lips. The idea of you starting over with someone else rots in his tongue. He doesn’t want you to hold anyone’s face the way you were just holding his. He wants to keep you all to himself, to go to endless visits to the grocery shop, to watch you fall asleep during movie night and then pretend you didn’t, to massage your hands as you tell him about his day.

But you don’t deserve the guck that’s forming inside his mind. He knows it’s only a matter of time before it comes out pouring and reaches you. And he’ll be damned if he lets himself ruin the one good thing he’s had in his life for many years. He promised to himself he wouldn’t let his ill state of mind touch his loved ones. Never again.

He watches you nod and feels his heart shattering, even if everything is going just the way he intended. You rub his shoulders and look into his eyes, a sad smile on the pretty lips he would never get to kiss again.

“Okay,” you sigh. “We’ll end this but… when you leave, never doubt how loved you were. No— how loved you are. I don’t know what is coming for either of us but… I do know a part of my heart will always belong to you, no matter who I hold hands with. I will always love you, Tora.”

Your words are enough to finally break him. Kazutora clutches your body tightly against him as he loudly sobs against your shoulder. You hold him, tears flowing free once again as you try and soothe the man you love, leaving small kisses on the side of his head and whispering soft reassurances that it’s okay. It’s not, you tell yourself. It’s never going to be okay. But it has to be.

Carefully, you move him back to the sofa, helping him sit down while he refuses to let go of his hold on your body. You lean on the back pillows, both your arms cradling him while he whimpers like a small child. Kazutora clutches the fabric of your sweater with desperation, wishing there was a way he could stay with you.

Why does he have to give up the person that had put a smile back on his face? He can’t quite remember a time when his stomach had hurt out of laughter before he ever met you. Or when he’d experienced such peace as the night he stayed at your apartment and got to see your sleeping face first thing in the morning. He’s never loved anyone as much as he loves you and, for all he knows, he may never love like this again. 

But he could never risk tainting you. He would never be able to forgive himself.

Kazutora softly pulls away from your embrace. His eyes are blotchy and red and you’re sure yours look the same or even worse. His nose is red, like it always does when he cries. It’s endearing, you think. Everything about him, from his hair, to his eyes, his hands— you’ve come to love every part of Kazutora. And that’s exactly why it’s so hard to let him go.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says in a whisper, resting the side of his head on the back pillows of the sofa.

“Like what?” you ask, gently pushing his hair away from his face and behind his ear.

“Like I matter to you. Like I’m making a huge mistake.”

You take a deep breath. Imitating him, you rest your head on the back pillows as well, so you’re both facing each other.

“I don’t— I don’t fully understand what you’re going through,” you admit, your eyes locked on his. “But if you need to… get away, then you should. You’ve been nothing but loving to me. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy, whether it’s with me or not. You deserve to fully experience all the beautiful things life has to offer.”

Silent tears fall from both your cheeks and his.

“I should be thankful I got to love you for this whole year. Because even if it ends this way… God, I loved you so much,” you sniffle, letting out a small laugh. “And I felt so loved. Isn’t that magical in itself? That we got to love each other at the same time?” you wonder with a sad smile.

Kazutora parts his lips, yet the doorbell interrupts him before he can even speak. You look at the front door, your eyebrows furrowing for a moment before you realize who’s probably there.

“Food’s here,” you say, wiping the tears from your face.

“Food?” Kazutora asks, confused.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Didn’t I tell you? The baking dish broke so I called that restaurant, the one with the burgers we like.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t really listening back then,” he admits with a pang of guilt. He sits up on the couch and turns his head at you. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

You sit up as well. “I ordered for the two of us. C’mon, stay for dinner. Let’s… remember us this way, okay? Without so many tears and sadness,” you offer, tilting your head towards him. “I even ordered your favourite one.”

Kazutora rubs his face with his sleeve, erasing the trail of the tears he just shed. Looking at you, he nods, drawing a small smile on his lips.

“Okay. I’ll get it.”

He only walks a few steps towards the door before he feels you tugging at the back of his shirt. Turning around, he notices you’re standing right behind him. Your eyes look up to him, biting your bottom lip and not even a ghost of the smile you previously offered him.

“Before that, uh— I want you to know I… I mean it,” you firmly say, taking in all his facial features, loving how they soften every time he looks at you. “I’ll always love you. No matter how many years go by or if I ever stop being in love with you— I’ll still love you.”

“I’ll always love you too,” he replies, taking your hand and squeezing it softly. “I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

You finally let out a soft chuckle and squeeze his hand back. The doorbell rings again and you walk around Kazutora to get to it. This time, he’s the one that stops you, not letting go of the hold of your hand. Looking back at him, you notice the soft pout in his lips and how they softly tremble, looming more tears.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, and you know you’re saying it to yourself as well. “Who knows, we might get together again someday. Have our own Casablanca moment. We’ll always have the pet shop,” you joke, trying to fight back to tears that threaten to fill your eyes as well.

It’s Kazutora’s turn to chuckle, only this time he does it along with you. You let go of his hand only to hold his face tenderly, a soft smile as you look at the man you love. Standing on your tiptoes, you press your lips against the beauty mark under his right eye. You feel his hands setting on the small of your back and watch his smile widen when you fall back on your heels.

Locking your fingers with him once more, you open the door.

[maximons]

Without You

Summary: Everything seems to be going alright for Wanda Maximoff, but a mission gone horribly awry makes everything crash and burn.

Word Count: 3,101

Genre: Angst

Requested?: Yes

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, mentions of blood, burns, scarring

A/N: Alright kids, you ready for angst time? My first full out angst fic, oh boy. This ones got no happy ending guys, so do with that what you will. This takes place during Civil War, so spoilers...? I guess? I’d say Happy Reading, but I don’t think you guys will be that happy by the end of this sooo good luck!

Lagos.

That’s the place where everything in Wanda’s life fell apart. Or at least fell apart even further than it had before.

Some of the team were out on a mission. You guys finally managed to track down Rumlow and his gang after about a year of searching. Everything was going fairly well, yes there was some collateral damage, and things didn’t exactly go according to plan, but overall, it looked like you guys would come out of this with a win.

And then, it happened.

Wanda and you had begun to jog up to Steve’s location, where you saw him stare Rumlow down. Something in you just told you that this wasn’t going to go well. You looked at the scene in front of you, and then your gaze fell onto the building behind it. It was too close for comfort.

“Babe, I’m gonna go check that building.” You turned to your girlfriend. “Looks like there could be a lot of people in there, I’m gonna try to get them out.” She looked at you, and then to the building briefly. Part of her wanted to question why when the fight was happening out here, but she knew in your line of work things can be unpredictable.

She nodded. “Okay, be safe.” You nodded back with a small smile, and pecked her on the cheek.

“Always am.” With that, you ran off.

It was only about two or three minutes after you ran in when things went to hell.

Rumlow pulled a pin on his vest, and Wanda reacted as quickly as she could, capturing him mid explosion in her magic. She lifted him up, trying to get him as far away from the people below as possible, but she couldn’t hold it anymore. The explosion went off.

Blowing a huge hole into that building.

Wanda stood there, shocked for a moment over what just happened. Her hand came and slowly covered her mouth, mind going over all the damage she just caused. She vaguely heard Steve calling for fire and rescue, and then it hit her.

You were in there.

“Y/n...” She whispered, still in a state of shock, but she quickly snapped out of it and sprang into action. “Y/n!” She heard Steve yell for her to wait, but she didn’t care. She took off, flying up and landed in one of the building’s destroyed floors.

She did her best to ignore the carnage around her, carnage she caused. She pushed down the bile that was rising in her throat, and continued her search for you. 

And then she found you.

You were a super soldier, so luckily you didn’t die from the blast, she could still feel your pulse. But you didn’t look good.

You were lying on the charred floor, unconscious. Half of your suit was burned off, leaving nasty burns all on your arm and torso, some even creeping up your neck and face. Blood also dripped down from an open wound on your temple.

Wanda couldn’t bring herself to care about your appearance, though. You were still alive, and that’s the main thing she cared about right now.

“Don’t worry.” She sobbed out, hand gently caressing your unburned cheek. “You’re okay...you’re gonna be okay...” She tore her gaze away from you for a minute, and looked around. Tears falling at the sight of multiple bodies, people who weren’t as lucky as you.

People who were dead because of her.

“...I’m so sorry...”

The next week was chaos.

You were brought to the compound’s medical facility immediately, doctors working fast to try and save your life. They managed to stabilize you, now it was just a waiting game as to when you would wake up. Wanda would visit you everyday, barely being able to leave your side. Steve managed to convince her that she needed to rest, saying that you wouldn’t want to see her neglecting her needs. She hesitantly complied, and finally went to her room to sleep for the night.

The next morning, the news started reporting the incident.

And of course they blamed her.

Logically, Wanda knew this wasn’t entirely her fault. Rumlow was the one who turned himself into a bomb. She was just trying to save the lives below. That thought brought her little comfort though.

She was still responsible for the lives lost in that building. She was still responsible for you, the love of her life, being severely injured and in a coma.

Maybe they were right.

Steve didn’t let her wallow in that thought for too long though, because he shut the TV off. He sat down and gave her one of his hope speeches, and she appreciated the effort, but she didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s my fault.” She whispered. “All of those people, dead because of me...and Y/n...” She trailed off, tears forming in her eyes. Steve placed a hand on her leg, trying to comfort her.

“You know...she doesn’t blame you, I know she doesn’t.”

“Maybe she should...they all should.”

Steve couldn’t get anything else out, as Vision phased in the room and told them of the arrival of Secretary Ross.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, he had told them about the Sokovia Accords. Wanda hated the idea, forcing heroes to register with the government, essentially making them puppets for them. She knew you would hate it too, you never were one to trust the government.

“Look, we understand where you’re coming from, but if it weren’t for us, there’d be a lot more blood spilled.” Sam argued.

“Tell that to the innocent civilians in that Lagos hospital building.” Ross argued back. “Oh wait, you can’t.”

“If it weren’t for Wanda, hundreds of people in the streets below would have been killed.” Steve cut in. “If it weren’t for Y/n, hundreds of more people would have been in that building.”

“And look where that landed her.”

Wanda had enough. She shot up from her chair, and stormed out of the room.

She went straight to your hospital room, your still unconscious body covered in bandages. She pulled up a chair beside your bed, hand going to grip yours. She tried to speak, but couldn’t bring herself to form the words. So she just rested her head on your joined hands and cried.

The next few weeks saw the Avengers falling apart, divided over the accords. Wanda was especially disappointed in Natasha’s decision, given that you two were best friends. 

Wanda hasn’t left the compound. Most of her time was spent visiting you and sleeping as best she could. Your burns had begun healing, but barely. They still left pretty nasty scars. Your breathing had improved, which satisfied the doctors. They had said you could wake up any moment now, Wanda just hoped it was soon.

The next day, Wanda walked into the kitchen to find Vision cooking. She found that odd, since she knew he didn’t eat, but he explained that he was making it for her. You used to cook for her a lot, and after a few disasters, you finally got the recipe down. Vision’s was no where near as good as yours, but she appreciates the effort.

After a conversation about their powers and their fear of them, Wanda volunteered to go to the store to pick up some paprika that would greatly help the dish. Vision stopped her.

“Vision...are you not letting me leave?”

“It’s a matter of safety.”

“I can handle myself.”

Vision stopped her again. “Not yours. Mr. Stark would like to avoid the possibility of another public incident.”

Wanda looked at the synthezoid in disbelief. “I’m not an out of control time bomb. It was an accident.”

“I know. I do, but...you powers are very unpredictable. You are also...vulnerable. My scanners have indicated you are, how you say, ‘on edge’. You have been ever since Miss L/n was admitted in the medical wing.”

Wanda’s gaze turned into a harsh glare. “I know that human emotion is a foreign concept to you Vision, but trust me, if your girlfriend was ever put in a coma because of you...being ‘on edge’ is the least you would be.”

Without waiting for a response, Wanda turned around and stormed off. She headed to the one place that her feet often dragged her to the last weeks. Your bedside. 

She sat and took a hold of your hand. She stared at you for a moment before she spoke. “Hey, baby. Things have been...hard without you to say the least. Not that this wouldn’t be hard anyway, but everything is falling apart. These stupid accords are ruining everything. Tony has become a government pet, Nat joining him, Steve is off doing who knows what, and now...I’m locked in.” She paused. “You know, as much as I wish more than anything that you were awake and by my side right now...part of me is glad that you wouldn’t have to see your family fall apart like this. It’d break your heart...” She stayed for a few more moments, staring at your face and taking in your features once again. She then leaned down to kiss your hand. “I love you.” With that, she left.

Later that night, Wanda was back in the main room of the compound. You still haven’t woken up, she just learned she was essentially on house arrest, so she was trying to find ways to find ways to distract herself. She was reading a book, when she heard a loud explosion go off outside. She walked over to the window to take a look, Vision joining her a few moments later.

“What is it?”

“Stay here please.”

Wanda was left alone for a moment, before she felt a presence behind her. She quickly grabbed hold of the knife on the table, and flinging it towards the new presence. She halted it when she saw who it was.

Clint.

The next few minutes passed by like a blur. Clint was convincing her to come help Steve, Vision came back in but was trapped, Wanda hesitated and Clint gave her one of those hope speeches. She was about to decline, before he said one last thing.

“You know, if Y/n was awake...I know she’d side with Steve, and she’d only hope you’d do the same.”

Was it manipulative? Possibly, but he was also right. You would have sided with Steve, no question. Doing what you could to help. She thought on it for a few more moments, before she nodded. They were about to leave before Vision broke free. The two men fought, and before she knew it, she was sending the synthezoid several floors down and into the ground. 

She went to her room, quickly packing her suit and anything else she thought she would need. She went back out to meet Clint, about to leave, but she stopped.

“Wait! I gotta see Y/n first.” 

Clint sighed, but knew he couldn’t deny her of this. “Alright, make it quick.”

She booked it to your hospital room. You were lying there, same as you have been for a while. She quickly surged forward grabbed your hand, not bothering to sit. She knew they didn’t have time.

“Alright, baby. I’m gonna go out for a bit, okay? I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but...I’m going to do what’s right. I’m going to fight. I finally ‘got off my ass’ as you would say.” She chuckled, but it held no real joy behind it. “I just hope you’d be proud of me...and I just hope that I can come back to see you-”

Wanda cut herself off when she felt you begin to move. All of a sudden your face shifted, and you began to turn your head. 

“Y/n?...”

You began to open your eyes slowly, head slowly lifting off your pillow. Your eyes looked around, trying to adjust to the brightness of the room. Before you could even look at Wanda though, you began coughing. 

Wanda rushed to poor you a glass of water, knowing your mouth would be dry from not using it for a while. She handed it to you, quickly, and you slowly raised your hand to take it. As you began to drink, Wanda couldn’t help but smile. You were finally awake. She was beyond relieved. She was put in a rough spot now, she knew she had to meet Clint so they could go, but...you were finally awake. She couldn’t leave you.

“Wanda, we gotta go!” She heard Clint yell, and without tearing her eyes away from you, she yelled back.

“In a minute! Y/n just woke up!”

She didn’t hear a response from the man, but she heard footsteps quickly making its way towards your room. 

You finished drinking your water and placed the cup on the bedside table. You began to try to sit up, but Wanda rushed to your side to help.

“Here you go, easy.”

When you fully sat up, you took in the appearance of the woman next to you. You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” She breathed out. You looked her in the eyes, smile still on both your faces. But, Wanda’s smile dropped instantly at the next words that came out of your mouth.

“Sorry, hi, I’m Y/n. You probably already knew that though.” You chuckled nervously. “Are you one of the nurses?”

Wanda froze. No. This couldn’t be happening. The doctors told her that Amnesia was a possibility since you hit your head on impact from the blast, but it never seemed like a real threat. She stared at you, jaw slacked for a few more moments.

“Um, hello?...Oh! Are you my doctor? Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.”

Wanda snapped out of it when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head to see it was Clint. You spoke up again before she could say anything though.

“Oh, hey, are you a nurse? Or doctor?”

Realization filled Clint’s face, but he held it together. He simply shook his head.

“Oh...so, is someone supposed to help me or...?” You trailed off. 

Clint looked to Wanda, who was still in shock, tears beginning to form in her eyes. He knew he had to take over, get them out as soon as possible. “Sorry, Y/n. We’ll get your nurse to come and check on you. Glad to see you’re awake.” Before you could respond, he quickly rushed out of the room, pulling Wanda with him.

Wanda finally let herself break down, and cried in the van. She barely had time to process everything before they picked up a man name Scott and flew to the airport to meet Steve.

Steve broke down the plan and the team went separate ways to suit up and get in position. Except Wanda. Steve was about to go get himself ready, but paused when he saw the witch frozen in place.

“Wanda? You okay?” Wanda simply shook her head and looked up at him, he could see the tears in her eyes. “What happened?”

“Y/n woke up.”

Steve raised his eyebrows in shock. “She did? That’s great-” He was cut off when Wanda let out a sob. He then put two and two together, something was wrong. “...What was it?”

“She...doesn’t remember anything...doesn’t remember me...”

Steve sighed. He was saddened by the news as well, you and him were very close, both being super soldiers and all. He couldn’t even imagine what Wanda was going through in this moment though, so he put on a brave face. He went over to the witch and wrapped an arm around her. “Y/n is strong...when this is over, we’ll go see her and start-” Steve was cut off again when Wanda shook her head.

“Steve...you and I both know this isn’t gonna end with us just being able to go back...” She looked up at him. He was about to speak up again, when he heard Sam in his ear.

“Cap, Tony and Rhodey are flying in now. You good to go?” 

Steve looked to Wanda, knowing she heard him too since they all had coms. She nodded. “On my way.” He turned to leave, before giving Wanda one last look. “Whatever happens, it’ll be okay.”

It wasn’t.

The fight at the airport was beyond tiresome, and they lost. Steve and Bucky got away to handle the other Winter Soldiers, but the rest of the team was captured.

So now here she was, sitting in a cell in a high security prison in the middle of the ocean...with a straight jacket and shock collar on. Wanda couldn’t even be upset about it. She was numb. She’s already lost everything she possibly could. Her parents, her brother, her country, and now...you. She couldn’t bring herself to care whether or not she wasted away in this cell. Maybe she deserved to.

But of course, she couldn’t even have that for long, as Steve broke them out a few days later.

Up on the quinjet with Steve and the rest of the team, she sat alone, staring out the window watching the dark clouds pass by. After a few moments, she felt a presence next to her. She looked over to see who it was. Natasha.

“What are you doing here?” Wanda asked, looking back out the window. 

“It’s a long story.” She answered. “Steve told me what happened, I...I’m not even sure what to say. I am so sorry Wanda.” Wanda merely nodded, not trusting her voice right now. Natasha took a deep breath and continued. “Y’know...I can pull some strings, the ones I have left anyway. Get Y/n relocated to be with us. I know she doesn’t remember anything right now, but-”

“No.” Wanda cut her off, surprising the redhead.

“Wha...what do you mean ‘no’?”

Wanda had thought about it, she’s thought about it the entire time she was in the Raft. She would love nothing more than to see you again, to hold you and help you on your recovery, but...she couldn’t. She was a wanted fugitive now, and you were only in this predicament because of her...she had to be selfless here. She couldn’t bring you into this life, not when you were missing chunks of your own.

“I mean no.” She said, looking up into Natasha’s eyes, tears pooling in her own. “She’s better off.”

And with that, Wanda got up, walking towards the back of the jet to be alone. She took a deep breath, and prepared herself. Preparing herself for a new life as a fugitive on the run. And most importantly...

Preparing for a life without you.

[where-dreamers-go]

Heyo! May I have Eragon's reaction to reader saying "I've loved you from the very start! I love you, but you don't love me! So why am I even confessing?" because I love drama and I do need a lot of fluff rn.

“The Many Questions And A Confession” Eragon x Modern!Reader

(A/N: How about a continuation to the one Modern!Reader slipping and telling Eragon how they know about him telling Arya about his true name?? I shall give the drama this day. It shall be a journey towards the fluff. Looks like this turned into an insert reader type deal. Needs a title now? Oops?

Drama time! Because Reader is really frustrated with Eragon in this one. Woo! How’s Eragon handle it? Spoiler: He doesn’t stop talking.

Continuation of this one: https://where-dreamers-go.tumblr.com/post/647030131496534016/if-modernreader-has-read-the-books-and-knows

Warnings: Angst! Fluff. Mild language.

Word Count: 1,703 words)

Hiding in your room’s bathroom, you remained silent. It was not so much that Eragon could not find you, it was that you did not want to be seen at least. So what if you had locked doors and were sitting in a dry tub? The worst that could happen would be if he decided to invade your mind.

“(Y/N)?” Eragon’s voice echoed throughout the chamber as the door to your room opened.

Of course he opened it. At least I didn’t barricade it, you thought. Can’t have thirty seconds to myself.

“Are you going to talk to me?” He asked quietly from the other side of the bathroom door. Apparently locating you was not an issue.

You narrowed your eyes at the door as you sunk further into the empty tub.

A barely audible sigh reached your ears.

“I’m not angry with you for knowing,” he said. “I just don’t understand why you’re running off.”

You glanced up to the ceiling. Did you forget your last guess?

“Then…you do have feelings for me?” Eragon asked. “Or you think I’m foolish for having feelings for Arya.” His voice softened, more speaking to himself than asking you another question.

You sighed and muttered, “Not so much that your feelings were foolish….just some of your actions.”

“You still haven’t answered my questions.”

“Because…wait for it….I don’t have to.”

“(Y/N),” Eragon’s tone lowered. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks and it could not be for you knowing what I’ve done. If that were true…then you would have avoided me much sooner.”

“Brave of you to assume that I wasn’t avoiding you then.”

“We spoke more often then.”

“You asked me at least twenty questions a day. It’s hard to avoid that kind of persistence.” Kind of like now.

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I had just met you! I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. I would never do that.”

“So please stop avoiding me. I promise to be less foolish if that will help.”

“It won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Stop asking so many darn questions.”

“No. Just tell me.”

“No.”

“Why—?”

“I’ve loved you from the very start! I love you, but you don’t love me! So why am I even confessing?” You threw your hands out in a wide gesture. “Why do I bother? What does it even matter? …why am I even still talking?” You huffed. “Are we finished now?”

Silence.

You heard nothing else. Nothing in the bathroom you were hiding in nor anything out in the bedroom.

He has to be still out there. You thought. But I swear to all that is good, if he so much as tries to enter my mind, I will loose it. I’ll probably scream, cry, or…whatever. You crossed your arms and tried to ignore the uncomfortable position you were in. Physically, emotionally, and mentally.

The lock on the door clicked and the door opened. Walking in with an unreadable expression, Eragon made his way to you.

“No.” You said shortly, but he made no move of stopping. “What are you—?”

Eragon stepped into the dry tub.

“What are you doing?” You sat up straight as he sat down in front of you.

Settling in, Eragon folded his hands in his lap.

You shook your head at him.

What in the world? If someone thought he couldn’t get stranger…he did.

“What the blazes are you doing?” You asked, too bewildered to kick him as the opportunity was brought up in your mind.

“I’m sitting.”

You rolled your eyes so far that you were staring at the ceiling. If there was one place you did not want to look, it was straight ahead.

Wanting to hit someone upside the head and still wanting to kiss their face can not be good right now, you thought.

“Why are you even in here?” You asked through clenched teeth.

“You have been avoiding me and I haven’t seen you,” Eragon said simply before his voice softened. “I’ve missed you.”

Keeping your gaze up or up to the side, you avoided eye contact.

“Can we skip to the part where you say ‘I’m sorry, but you’re right, I don’t feel the same way about you’?” You asked. “Not going to lie…right now…you’re kind of making this worse.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was a murmur that tore through your heart.

“Alright.” Finally tearing your sights away from the ceiling, you hoisted yourself up and out of the tub.

“Where—I wasn’t finished.”

“Save your pity. I want to be alone.” You walked out of the bathroom and headed straight for your bed. There was an extremely low probability that he would follow you there too. Some lines weren’t crossed.

“I know you want to be alone.” Eragon was trailing after you.

I’m going to die from being not surprised, you thought of a quote.

“Please let me speak.”

“You’ve been speaking this whole time.” You yanked off your shoes. “What possibly could you have to say now?”

“I never said that I still loved Arya.”

You paused for a moment before saying, “Well…you don’t really need to. I’d be really surprised if you didn’t.” Tossing a pillow towards the middle of the bed, you kept your back to him.

“I don’t love her.”

Face scrunched up in confusion, you took a glance over your shoulder.

“Bull crap.”

His eyebrows pulled together. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m calling you out for lying.” You explained and crossed your arms under your chest.

“I’m not lying.” A smile slowly spread across the Rider’s face.

You rose your eyebrows, challenging him.

“Sure. And what changed your strong feelings for Arya? Cold soup?”

“You.”

“What?” The word hardly reached your own ears.

Eragon walked up to you, albeit cautiously, with a full smile on his lips. His brown eyes were lit with a happiness you were not comprehending.

“What are you talking about?” You whispered. “Why are you smiling like that?”

A chuckle rang out into the room as he stopped to stand in front of you. “How am I suppose to keep a stoic face after you confessed that you love me?” His smile only stayed on his lips when he did not receive any verbal response from you, locked into his happy moment. “I know you would never lie about your feelings. Not something as strong as love.”

You watched on, cautious.

What is he trying to say, that he likes the idea of me loving him? Uh. Is this normal? You thought.

“Perhaps I should have stated my feelings for you much earlier. Clearly you have been worn down with your heart and for that I apologize.”

“Feelings?”

“Yes,” he wet his lips briefly and straightened his posture. “I do care for you deeply, (Y/N). My feelings were already growing before I even recognized them.” His smile turned sheepish, but he persisted onwards. “I didn’t think I could have those feelings for anyone else, but….it’s different somehow. I’m not sure how to explain it. I feel better when I’m around you. We’re honest with each other and you’ve taught me so much already. I’ll make this as much like home as I can for you. I really want you in my life.”

It took a moment before you breathed in a small breath.

You knew that you were probably looking at him as if he had lost his ever-loving mind. Who could blame you at that point? You were in a completely different world. And one you knew of, mind you. It was bound time for a round of unpredictability.

Eyes the color of enriched soil underneath the blooming flowers in light of a summer sky watched you with surging hope.

Were you hallucinating? Lucid dreaming? No, you couldn’t be. There were far too many moments that would have had a timeskip or objects from back home. The only way you would have this much time with Eragon would be if it was real.

He’s serious? He’s serious.

Your chest tightened and somewhere inside all of your tension released. In its place there was a warmth that brought tears to your eyes.

Frustration rapidly melting away, you carefully turned to sit on the edge of the bed to compose yourself.

“Are you alright?” Eragon asked, kneeling down to look upon your face.

“I’m…,” you swallowed. “I’m still processing what you said.”

“Processing?”

“Just…uh… Can you give me a second?” You waved a gentle hand in his direction.

“Take as much time as you need,” Eragon said as he delicately took your hand in his own.

You internally groaned at how sweet he was even after you verbally rampaged him about leaving you alone.

Seeing as you did not retract your hand, the Rider held your hand against his chest. The position allowed you the rare opportunity to feel his heartbeat. A rapid beating of his heart as he awaited any sort of verbal response from you. Anything that would tell him if he should indeed pursue the strong feelings he had.

You snuck a peek at his face; clear of any imperfections of the sun and brown eyes lit up in hope.

“You’ve been interested in me this whole time?” You asked. “And I didn’t know it?”

After reviewing your choice in words, Eragon nodded.

“What the actually hell?” You laughed. “You develop feelings quick, sir.”

A lopsided smile appeared on his face. Your light teasing of his actions always did surprise him in the most satisfying ways.

“You’re not upset with me?” He asked. “About earlier.”

“A little.”

His smile dropped a fraction.

“But I’ll find it in myself to forgive you.” You smirked.

“Then I should be grateful.” Eragon held his head high. “I would rather face your affections than your wrath.”

“Alright,” you rolled your eyes. “That was smooth, but cutting it close.” You tugged on his hands. “Get over here.”

Before Eragon could stand, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders in a tight embrace.

“You’re a bit of an odd one, you know that?”

Eragon nudged his head against your own. “I will gladly be odd if it means I can be with you.”

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Inheritance Cycle Tags: @shewhobreathesfire @emburbaguette

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

[goggles-mcgee]

Too Late: Alya & Nino (commission for miner249er)

Fourth chapter of @miner249er ‘s commission

Chapter Summary: The truth is harsh. Teens are harsher.

Previous Work

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Truth.

As an aspiring journalist it was something Alya strived for. It was the most important thing she could give the people who followed her so diligently. She thought she had been giving them that. She had been so good about giving them the truth, her truth, and Ladybug’s truth in the past, she foolheartedly believed she was continuing to do so despite taking shortcuts later on in the road. Why didn’t she fact check herself? Why did she throw that very thing in Marinette’s face? What kind of reporter was she? What kind of friend was she? The answers were all around her and yet she still wasn’t ready to face them head on. There was still that voice in her head that was telling her that this was all Lila Rossi’s fault. 

But is it? Alya thought as her and Nino ate together at her house, the TV on in the background. At first it had been on the news but Alya was done with the news for a long while, all it had been was coverage of The Protector and Nino had immediately taken the remote and changed it to cartoons. This was hitting him hard, harder than Alya had expected if she was being honest. When they found out Ladybug and Chat Noir had, in fact, not defeated The Protector and instead the akuma, that Marinette had gone missing, it hit the class hard. Hard because they learned the truth about Lila in that time and that had been rough to work through. Then they had to come to the realization that they believed Lila over Marinette, the sweet, kind, selfless girl that had all at one point been friends with. 

Then the lies got to them. It poisoned them. That’s what Alya had written on her blog anyways. They were victims of a silver-tongue and they had paid the price, one they had not been prepared to pay for. Their friend was missing, had been missing and they couldn’t do anything. Alya had been searching through as many local papers and news around the world for any clues if Marinette had possibly gone to those places. Everything was coming up empty. She had even made a separate website along with Max all about Marinette and what had happened, she left ways to reach her and her classmates in case anyone had any info. Nino said they should have added Tom and Sabine’s information as well but Alya was too scared to ask them if they would be okay with it, last time they had all been at the bakery the tension had been palpable. 

They weren’t banned like Nathaniel had worried they would be but every time they went in with their families, because that was the only time they went in there, it was always awkward. Tom and Sabine were much too nice to ban them even if they felt like they deserved it. How did everything go so wrong? Even school wasn’t as fun as it had been. Walking into their classroom was like taking a walk of shame, people from other classes, even teachers just stared at them. Some even glared. Then there were the whispers, Dieu the whispers, they followed them everywhere not just school, but they were the most prominent there. Her, Nino, and their classmates would find notes in their lockers, none were really threatening but they tore at her heart all the same. Things like, ‘You’re the reason she’s gone,’ or, ‘Are you guys proud of yourselves now?’ ‘Were the lies worth it?’ ‘You traded in a gem for fool’s gold.’ ‘What a reporter you turned out to be.’

All the notes hurt. That was the truth. That last one? She had found it in her locker this morning and it burned. Alya had been bullied before, she never liked to think about it, who would? But she was and she had to acknowledge it because she had told herself she would never allow herself to be bullied again, and most importantly, she would never turn into a bully. Wrong. She was wrong, and it wasn’t the first time she had been made aware of this since everything happened. Since everything changed. It was a blessing that Nino and her were still together, he never partook in the “tough love” the class had been giving Marinette before she...before she had been akumatized. Sure he didn’t stop them, and that was bad, but he didn’t go out of his way to not invite her to things until she stopped being “jealous” and started acting like the bigger person. Nino wasn’t the one who ignored her text messages, which now that Alya read them, were pretty telling that her friend had been hurting and she had only made that worse. 

“What are you thinking about babe?”

Alya looked up from her half eaten bowl of soup to see Nino gazing at her in concern. “Marinette.”

“Oh…” He breathed out as he put his spoon down and looked down at the table before placing one of his hands on hers and giving her a small smile. “Everything will be okay Alya. Someone will find her and then she’ll be back home.”

Empty words. Empty words fed to him too much from adults who didn’t have any updates on anything. “You don’t believe that. And even if she did...who's to say she would even want to talk to us!? What’s to say that anything would be better? We would still be seen as the bad guys! We will still all have to eat lunch at our houses or the park just to avoid the stares and the whispers and the tossed trash our way and the “accidentally” spilled drinks!”

Alya had never understood just how much their class had been living in its own little world. Not to say they were completely unattached to the rest of the school, Alix, Nathaniel, Rose, Chloe, and Sabrina were in the art club (the art teacher and the rest of the club had made a mural of Marinette without notifying them or asking for their help. Everyone is encouraged to leave notes about Marinette on the mural. The art room even has a chair decorated in honor of Marinette that no one else can use. That was announced very pointedly Alix later shared.), Rose was in the scrapbooking club (no one asked to use her materials anymore like they used to), and Max was in the gaming club which Marinette had helped him set up (people weren’t showing up lately.) They weren’t kicked out, but they were reminded of Marinette all the time,it was like everyone’s way of punishing them. It had never occurred to any of them how popular Marinette was.

So popular that the whole school seemed to hate them. Even Mlle Mendeleiev seemed to be harsher than normal and that was really saying something, it would seem like she had a soft spot for Marinette. In their class everyone avoided Marinette’s seats in class, Alya had to step up as class representative but the silver lining was that Nino had stepped up to be her deputy. Though another negative was the fact Nino had stopped making his music and taking DJ gigs. At first he hadn’t said anything to her or their friends, Alya found out because of Chris actually, but then her and Adrien confronted him and he broke down. He cried and he didn’t stop for a long time, but when he had calmed enough to talk he pulled out old pictures of him and Marinette, told them stories about how they had grown up together. It had made the pit in Alya’s stomach grow, she had just been thinking about her and how much she blamed herself and how much she missed her best friend, she hadn’t even thought how this was affecting Nino.

“I...I need to believe it Alya. I need to. Because if I don’t I will break apart. Mari...Marinette and I were best friends in l'école primaire. I never thought she would ever not be a part of my life. Then the whole Lila thing happened and I turned into a coward again, like I had with Chloe! No, worse than a coward! I don’t even know what I would call myself but I know I can’t call myself her friend.” His voice rose the more he spoke and near the end it cracked. 

“Nino…”

“No. I know that’s the truth! And I know, I know that things at school have been rough. Hell, they’ve been awful, everyone sees us as these villains in some trashy young teen novel when all we’ve done is make a mistake! Yes. It was a big mistake but it was a mistake nonetheless but we’re...we’re kids dammit. We’re just kids.” Alya felt tears race down her cheeks as she saw her boyfriend break yet again, his cheeks wet with his tears, his voice choked with his guilt. 

“I know. I just...I just want her back. I want everything back. I don’t know how many times we have to apologize to the school, but they’re not even the ones that need to hear the apologies! The one we need to have hear us isn’t here and…” Alya could feel herself breaking but she tried to hold on. Nino needed her to be strong. Her class needed her to be strong. Her family needed her to be strong.

“I can’t take the stares! Or, or hear Rose’s cries that she tries to hide from us. Mylene hasn’t been eating and I know she thinks we don’t notice and Adrien, god Adrien. I’m trying to hold it together because my bro is falling apart at the seams! First Marinette gets...gets fucking akumatized, then his dad and Nathalie get taken to the hospital from some supposedly random attack but it’s pretty obvious it was Mar-the akuma’s doing, his mom freaking pops out of nowhere but of course that can’t just be a good thing because everyone has to talk about how his dad and Nathalie were probably Hawkmoth and Mayura! And I’m over here trying not to think too much about all that because it makes actually too much sense, but then we find out that Marinette was most likely Ladybug! LADYBUG!” He lamented, not bothering to hide the fact he was crying, more like sobbing. It just made Alya cry more.

“I...I wanted the truth for so long, but not like this. Not like this. I...I know this makes me sound like the worst person on the planet but I kind of wish stupid Gabriel Agreste wasn’t Hawkmoth because then I could be akumatized and maybe I could be some kind of time-travelling akuma and we could go back and fix everything and school wouldn’t be hell and the twins wouldn’t act like they had to walk on eggshells around me all the time and my dad wouldn’t look like he’s always so disappointed in me and my mom wouldn’t look at my with only pity in her eyes and Nora would talk to me and Marinette would be back!” Alya sobbed out. At this point her and Nino had moved from their seats to the kitchen floor and were huddled together hugging each other for comfort. 

The two just sat there soaking up whatever comfort they could and dreaded the time that passed. For each minute that passed, was a minute that brought them closer to having to go back to school. Alya didn’t know if she had the strength to go back and deal with everything, she didn’t know if Nino could handle it either, but she knew her mother would be by any minute to give them a lift back to school. If there was a way she could just finish school online, Alya was willing to do it, but her father wouldn’t ever allow it. He had put his foot down, Otis Césaire was mad, then he was disappointed and he thought it only fair that Alya face her peers and continue on at Françoise Dupont. It didn’t feel fair, it didn’t feel fair at all, it felt like punishment. Hadn’t she been punished enough? Even in sleep she wasn’t safe, all she dreamed of was Lila and her making her act like a puppet. She would see puppet her do all these things to Marinette and she would wake up in sweat and tears.

“Okay I’m here, I hope you two are ready to head ba-” Alya looked up to see her mom standing there staring at her and Nino, her mouth agape. “Oh Alya...Nino...How about I call the school and tell them you’re not feeling good? And I’ll call your parents Nino.”

Alya was going to respond, she really was, but when she opened her mouth nothing came out but a choked off cry and nod. Nino nodded as well as he took in a shaky breath. “Th-Thanks, Mme C.”

“Nino, you know I told you to call me Marlena. Now you two go rest in Alya’s room while I make those calls. Then maybe I can get the rest of the day off and-” 

“No manman. Things...things are already bad enough, don’t make it worse by not going back to work. I don’t...I don’t want to be the reason why you get fired.” Alya mumbled as she and Nino got up off the floor.

“Oh...Oh my little one, that won’t happen. And if it did, not because of you. Never. Don’t you think that.” Alya’s mother breathed out as she pulled her daughter into a hug before taking her daughter’s face in her hands and doing her best to wipe her tears. 

“Papa and Nora would! Nora still won’t talk to me and Papa only looks at me like he’s disappointed he ever had me!” Alya cried out before she could stop the words from coming out. Her mind completely forgot that Nino was standing right beside her until she felt him hold her hand and give it a squeeze. 

“Your Papa is just being stubborn, but you listen to me, he could never ever be disappointed in having you. You are our daughter. You made a mistake yes, but I know you know you made a mistake and that you are sorry. Your Papa will realize that. He just needs time. And Nora...she just needs time too. I just think she doesn’t know how to handle everything and that she’s mad that she couldn’t protect you sweetie. She’s always been the protective older sister, and this was something she couldn’t protect you from herself. They’ll come around. I’m sure.” 

“If you’re sure manman…”

“I am. Now you kids go relax. I’m going to take the rest of the day off and go to the store for dinner ingredients, I’ll be back soon. I know things are hard my little Melusine but they won’t always be like this.” With a kiss to her forehead and a swift hug to Nino, Alya’s mom left the two teens in the family apartment.

At first they just stood there in silence and sniffles, but Nino made the move to put their plates in the sink and rinse them out while Alya gathered their schoolwork back into their bookbags. Then they  made their way to Alya’s room and kicked off their shoes before sitting on the bed. Nino nudged Alya who looked at him in confusion until she saw him give her a crooked smile and open his arms which she fell easily into. She took off her glasses and placed them on her bedside table while she felt more than saw Nino take off his cap. For a while they just sat there in the quiet of the moment and Alya was content to do just that, to just have a moment of peace, but she slowly pushed away and reached for her remote to turn on the TV and quickly pulled up Netflix. Her mom wanted them to relax so why not fry their brains with some television. 

“Anything in particular you want to watch?” She asked as she settled back against Nino.

“As long as it has nothing to do with school or superheroes...I’m good.” Nino responded with a hollow chuckle. 

“I’m glad we don’t have to go back too…” She murmured, “Should we...tell the others?”

“Probably. But if I’m being honest I don’t really feel like talking to them and them asking how we are and if we’re okay when they know we’re not. I just. I don’t think I could handle that. Not today.” 

“I get it. Sometimes I feel like everyone else even blames me for what happened. Like... Like it was my responsibility to not fall for the lies and to warn them. Like my word would have made a difference! Mari...Marinette’s didn’t so why would mine?” Alya huffed as she scrolled through all the movie and show choices and tried her best not to cry again. 

“If they blame you then they need to blame me too and blame the people in the mirror. We all fell for the lies. Sure you’re the budding reporter, but the blame could just as easily be pushed onto Max who is so smart he created a living AI. But we have no one to be mad at but ourselves and we can only do that for so long.” Nino sighed as he held her closer and kissed her temple. Alya relished in the warmth of it all. 

“When did you get so wise?” Alya teased softly.

“When I decided to rewatch Star Wars. But no seriously. If anyone in class bothers you please tell me because we should be sticking together not at each other’s throats.” Nino stuck out one hand and Alya slid her hand into his.

“Cross my heart and hope to die. I will. And you’re right, we do need each other, especially now, especially at that school.”

“Especially at that school, yeah.” He laughed out. “We’re going to get through this. I don’t know how, but, we are and we’re going to do it together.”

Alya smiled wryly before she looked up at Nino and it slipped into a real small smile. “Together.” She agreed softly.

Last Chapter                             Next Chapter

l'école primaire - elementaryschool

manman - Haitian Creole for Mother

[allegedlyanandroid]

Hello! For the fic prompts! Can I got a 900Gavin A/B/O fic about alpha!RK900 who try to bite Omega!Gavin scent glands when they first meet because RK900 didn't have a social program but have only a primal instinct program? Could pls keep it fluff and light,plssss? 🥺 I read too many dark fics but if it couldn't then it ok too.

I took some artistic liberties with this one and made Gavin a bounty hunter for the sole purpose that I couldn’t figure out a good reason as to why Fowler would assign them as partners if Nines tried to take a bite out of him on first meeting.  I mean... who can blame him though? Gavin is a snacc. Did I think to much into it? Yes, definitely. Either way, I hope you like it @therainnight, fingers crossed that it has an okay ratio of fluff in it <3

There’s nothing to suggest he’s being followed, no out-of-the-ordinary sounds, no footsteps, no nothing. Doesn’t matter. Gavin has always had good instincts and right now they’re telling him that something, or someone, is stalking him. Glancing as far behind himself as he can through his peripheral vision means he catches the glimpse of movement before it’s too late. Gavin whirls around just as he’s pushed backwards against a tree and the impact is enough to knock the breath from his lungs.  

A forearm keeps him pressed against it while he stares uncomprehending at razor-sharp teeth set in a half-finished face.

‘Oh, hell no,’ is what comes to mind and it’s through pure instinctive reaction that he manages to get a hand up between them and shove it as far into the android’s mouth as he can ‒ quick enough to keep it from sinking its teeth into the glands in his neck. He’d rather lose a few fingers than be bond-mated on first meeting like some omega bride in the twentieth century. His other hand is still free so he ignores the glowing eyes peering into his soul, and the curious gnawing over the digits he unceremoniously shoved in the android’s mouth, in order to find the glowing circle in the middle of its chest. Digging his fingers into the minute crack the thirium pump regulator slides into his hand with a muted hiss, strangely warm and disgustingly slick with thirium.  

The android yelps, scrambling backwards, and releases Gavin’s saliva-slick hand as it falls down in a crouch. It stares desperately at the cylinder held aloft in the air. It jolts forward when Gavin squeezes it between claw-tipped fingers until it threatens to bend under the strain and render it useless, eyes are wide and sorrowful, the glow in them sapping away with every passing second. Gavin nearly feels bad for it.

“Why are you following me?!” he demands to know, pushing the thought aside.

It doesn’t answer, shifting in place as it continues to stare at him.

“You can have this back if you tell me.” Half-truths. The android merely curls in on itself, pressing the palm of its hand against its own throat. It mouths something but the dark plating making up the lower part of his face makes it impossible to see what. Then it clicks. “You can’t talk?”  

It nods.

Maybe it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when the droid looks anything but finished. Gavin can see parts of its biocomponents pulsing a subdued red behind clear panelling mixed in with sleek metal in a colour so dark it’s nearly void. The upper part of its face has synthskin, including his upper lip, but everything below is made of the same black material. Its ears nearly blend into the raven hair on its head and Gavin can’t find it in himself to be angry at it. Clearly, it’s a lost ‒ and potentially broken ‒ thing. Not unlike himself.

Gavin tosses the regulator in the android’s direction and marches on. He has a job to do after all and tracking only gets harder the longer he dawdles. Almost immediately the feeling returns and he groans out loud. The time-limit forces him to keep moving regardless of his silent companion. His target already has a two-day head start and the moment Weiss crosses the border into Canada Gavin can’t do jack-shit to him. He jerks the rifle higher on his back and continues to follow the scent of old blood laid into the earth. Evidently the bastard isn’t worried about being followed so much as setting a fast pace despite his injuries. 

When night begins to fall, the shadows lengthening around him, Gavin reluctantly sets up camp. There’s maybe another two days before he catches up and seeing as they’re about a three day’s march from the border he’ll be cutting it close.  

The area he finds is partly protected from the elements and close to a stream of trickling water. “I know you’re there,” he calls while rummaging around his supplies to find kindling. There’s a rustle of the underbrush to his left and the hulking mess of an android appears at the edge of camp. It looks hesitant, almost skittish, where it stands. It makes little sense given how bulky the ‘droid is and how aggressive it behaved earlier. Clearly it should be able to hold its own going off design alone. Gavin returns to ignoring it after a last wary glance and swears beneath his breath when the wood won’t catch flame.

The android shifts into his line of sight and approaches slowly, like one would a vicious or scared animal. It stops again and gestures to the attempted fire, tilting its head in question. Gavin sighs. “Sure, why not,” he shrugs. “‘s not like you can do a worse job.” 

Despite the less-than-friendly tone, the android visibly perks up. Gavin watches as it rearranges the collected wood with meticulous focus before stripping one of its fingers of plating and snapping off a few wires. The resulting electric sparks is what it uses to light the kindling. The fire slowly spreads over bark and wood until they’re engulfed by flames, cracking and popping in the still evening. Satisfied, it prods at the still-sparking wires with a finger, completely transfixed by the reds, oranges and yellows found in the flickering fire. 

Gavin offers a crooked grin in thanks. “Wonders of technology. You need any help with that?”

The android shakes its head no, poking the wires back in place, before clicking the plating back where it belongs. It looks to be smiling slightly as it reluctantly gathers itself up to leave.

Gavin stops it with a hand on its wrist.  

“You can stay.”

It’s basic human decency Gavin tells himself when he watches the android shuffle closer to the flames, hands outstretched as if to absorb its warmth. With the light’s help he can just about make out the serial-number etched into its chassis right over its thirium pump. “RK900, “ Gavin reads, “-that’s not one I’ve heard of before.” The droid turns to him and holds up one finger, turning it afterwards to point at himself. Gavin hums. “One of a kind then. I can relate to that.”

The android slides closer, looking up with a soft “go-on” like gesture that Gavin is helpless to resist.

-

He wakes up the next morning feeling as if everything has tilted slightly to the left and groggily gets himself ready for the day, rolling up his sleeping bag and kicking dirt over the fire’s embers, while RK stares at him with intrigue. They begin the trek not long after with Gavin wolfing down a protein bar in lieu of breakfast. RK frowns at him then, his brows furrowed severely, but it quickly turns to confusion when Gavin sticks his tongue out at him and picks up the pace. While they walk, he contemplates when in the previous evening he began referring to RK as “he” instead of “it”. There’s no doubt that the android is alive, for lack of a better term, animated and interested and latching onto every word of Gavin’s tales the way he used to do himself when he was younger and less jaded.

Gavin, lost in thought, doesn’t notice RK disappearing for a moment. His return is difficult to miss though since he presents him with a perfectly symmetrical trientalis europaea, its yellow core surrounded by seven white petals. A stark contrast to the black hands cupping it; delicate fragility resting in palms simply not made for such sweet blossoms. There’s excitement radiating off him, nestled in his glowing eyes, which doubles when Gavin asks: “Is that for me?”

The nod is quick as RK moves his hands an inch closer. Gavin takes it with a soft “thank you.” He looks at it for a moment longer and then takes his notebook from his inner pocket to place the flower there, snapping it shut and tying it with twine to really press flat. RK preens, turning his gaze bashfully to the forest floor, while Gavin pretends his cheeks aren’t flushed red.

-

When at last it comes time to make camp Gavin is pleased with their progress. “The scent of blood is more prominent. Even if he’s on scent blockers I can pick up smoke from the campfire. We’re getting close.”

His statement prompts an explanation about the reason he’s in the woods to begin with. The concern he shows upon hearing of Gavin’s chosen field of work is quickly dismissed with a: “I managed to bring you down, didn’t I?” which RK’s lips twitch at. He settles even closer to Gavin today, surreptitiously scenting the air between them, until Gavin asks him about it point-blank.

‘You smell nice,’ RK writes out on a torn-out page in Gavin’s book. ‘It’s what drew me in.’

“I smell like fuck-all while on blockers.”  

‘Leather, coffee, something sweet like honey.’ It takes a moment before RK writes the next part: ‘You’re an omega.’

Gavin is still reeling when the last part of the sentence hits him like a punch to the gut. He takes his blockers near religiously, there’s no way RK should be able to‒  

...but then the air around him floods with hints of metal and ozone. He’d smelled it before, when RK first came at him, but it had been absent since.  

An alpha.

As soon as the scent envelops him it lessens again. ‘It’s hard to concentrate, to control myself, unless I turn that part of my programming off. Although, it means I have to get in close to smell anything.’

Gavin doesn’t know what to say to that, to any of it, so he remains quiet even if he doesn’t move away to allow RK to take in his scent as he pleases.

-

The weather dips dangerously in the late night and Gavin wakes up shivering. “Fuck, dammit,” he curses. Maybe he should keep moving. Catch the fucker earlier and finally get away from here. ‘Terrible plan,’ Gavin reminds himself as another shiver wracks through his body. Weiss is an alpha and as much as Gavin loathes to admit it, they are stronger than him. His strength is his speed and precision, dancing out of people’s range until they tire, or using his omega status as a lure. The last one wouldn’t help him here and the former only works if he’s well-rested and alert.

RK is just now stoking the fire. It helps, a bit, but Gavin is still feeling numb; fingers and toes hurting when he attempts to stretch them out.  

“Hey, RK. C’mere a second.”

The android obeys without question, crouching down next to where Gavin has struggled into a sitting position. He places his hands against RK’s bare chassis to test his theory. There’s a low thrumming vibration beneath his fingertips and the metal is surprisingly warm to the touch. RK moves to clasp Gavin’s hands between his own and slowly rubs over them, keeping them covered while his chassis suddenly generates more heat.  

Once they’re an appropriate temperature again RK moves to sit behind him. Gavin watches him, a question etched clearly into his eyes, but RK merely lays down, waiting and watching. Glacially slowly Gavin joins him on the ground and the android smiles shyly before turning his back on him. Gavin mirrors him once more, shuffling until they lie back to back, and both the warmth from the fire and RK enveloping him is a comfort he didn’t know he needed.

-

The morning after is filled with glances out of the corner of his eye, with the urge to hold RK’s stupid hand, and he wonders when he became so starved of touch, of someone showing the slightest bit of kindness to him, that two days are enough to want to pull RK down by his hair and kiss him senseless.  

-

They catch up to Weiss a short few hours later and Gavin presses the rifle into RK’s hands as a safety precaution before throwing himself into the fight. It’s quick and dirty with Gavin using every trick in the book to gain the upper hand while dancing around the wildly thrown punches. Grinning through the rush of adrenaline Gavin eventually stops toying with the man and brings him down with a few precise kicks and punches. He locks handcuffs around Weiss’ wrists, arms behind his back, while Weiss shouts abuse and obscenities at him. Gavin pays it no mind, explaining with a sick sense of satisfaction that the cuffs aren’t coming off without a DNA signature from his friend and that running would mean a slow death for him left out in the elements. “Truth be told, I don’t care whether or not you’re still breathing when I bring in proof of your capture. I can afford to lose the difference in compensation.”

Weiss falls limp at that while Gavin slowly rises to his feet. When he looks up, remembering they’re not alone, RK is standing still as a statue. He stalks over, bearing a striking resemblance to a predator approaching prey, and presses right up into Gavin’s personal space to shove his nose into his neck and inhale. A rumbling noise is caught in his throat, a growl that has Gavin’s knees weakening slightly, as sharp teeth graze over his throat. Ozone and metal. Wicked claws not present before gripping his jaw tightly.

He reaches up to stick his thumb in RK’s mouth, pressing it down on his tongue with narrowed eyes. RK pricks it with his fangs and laps at the drop of blood with his tongue, all the while keeping eye contact. It makes Gavin squirm, just a little bit, and he’s thankful the heat suppressors keep him from getting wet or the walk back would be uncomfortable to say the least. With a graze of his teeth, RK loosens his hold and puts distance between them again, eyes dark and wanting.

-

Weiss tries to run about two thirds of the way back and Gavin sighs as he readies his reclaimed rifle. Turns out he never has to use it. RK’s head snaps up and he tracks the man’s erratic patterns for a second before giving chase. He’s practically a blur of movement and Gavin watches, transfixed, as he takes Weiss down in one graceful leap. The lack of being able to catch himself smacks Weiss’ head hard against the ground. RK doesn’t seem to care about the man’s dazed state as he drags him back to Gavin, his claws buried deep into the sides of his neck, hand cupping the back of it. He tosses him at Gavin’s feet and offers a razor-sharp grin, nudging the guy with the tip of his foot.  

Gavin gives him a light kiss on the cheek for his help and can almost imagine the tail wagging behind him with excitement at the gesture of affection.

-

What doesn’t fit the crumbling infrastructure in the slums or the dingy office he rents for cheap is the well-kept lady in smart business attire standing next to him behind the desk.  

Maurice Gacy, the guy they usually make business with, is a weasel of a man. His thin greasy hair and slimy smile fits his role of lowlife criminal perfectly. His side hustle of collecting bounties for the Guild is the only reason Gavin interacts with him, puts up with his leering and comments. Trust only extends so far between them but... all in all he gives the money owed and he keeps his mouth shut when talking to the cops which is all that really matters in the end.

RK tenses behind him, something Gavin senses in the clicking of his machinery, and Gavin frowns at the broad smile beginning to stretch over her face. “You found it,” she says lightly, walking in a measured pace while Gacy warily trails behind, heels clicking across the linoleum.

Gavin takes a step forward to meet her and bares his teeth in a snarl. “Back off.”

She nods sagely, uncaring for his hostility and lengthening canines. “Yes, of course. Money first. Always the same with you lot, isn’t it?” The node she produces from her fitted jacket flares to life and he stares, heart stuttering in his chest, at the very familiar face displayed.

WANTED  

RK900, MODEL NUMBER #313 248 317 - 87

REWARD: 1.000.000 $

HIGHLY VOLATILE AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS

PREFERABLE IF IT REMAINS OPERABLE UPON COLLECTION

Metal and ozone laced with a bitter tinge resembling fear.  

A flower stuck between yellowing pages.  

Viscous saliva and thirium dripping from his hands.

Whatever RK’s crime can Gavin truly bear to have more of his blood on them when it’s sure to stain them always? The thought is on the forefront of his mind when RK walks up to stand by his side, resignation already home in eyes and slowly sapping them of light, and in that moment, Gavin has his answer.

His arm shoots out to block RK from moving further and slowly raises his chin in defiance. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

They’re all staring at him, RK with a mix of wonder and trepidation, so Gavin sets his jaw and forces calm into his voice. “You can fuck right off with that shit, he’s not the reason we’re here.” With a nod to Tina, she steps forward and shoves Weiss at Gacy. Thankfully he’s too much of a coward to pick a fight and transfers the agreed upon money to her before whisking Weiss away towards the back. Tina raises an eyebrow at him, bumping their shoulder together lightly as she walks out the door, and Gavin has never been as thankful to have her as he is right now when the unmistakable sound of an engine rumbling to life filters in from outside. “Come on, we’re done here.”

It’ll start a shitstorm, that’s for damn sure, but with RK leaning forward to peer out the front window as they tear through the streets, Gavin can’t find it in himself to care.  

[tinysidestrashcaptain]

It's Only Logical - Chapter 23

Chapter 23: Confrontations and Justice

First Chapter Previous Chapter

Pairings: Logicality/Prinxiety

Warnings: TW for Jason Bryce, Violence, and swearing!

His flowers, he thought. Plants that he’d raised from seeds, bulbs, babied along their whole lives, now lying ruined on the ground. Twisted, trampled and ripped. Innocent, and he took a silent moment to grieve before racing around the corner of the building.

He skidded to a stop as he saw Jason Bryce swing a baseball bat, shattering a window. “You son of a bitch!”

He saw the surprise on Jason’s face as he whirled around, followed by rage. “Heard you were busy today. Figured I’d be done and gone before you showed up.”

“Well, you figured wrong.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He swung the bat again, shattering another window in a hail of jagged glass. “You think you can get away from me? Humiliate me, sick the police on me?” Another crash, another window gone. “Someone needs to put you in your place.”

“You humiliated yourself, and if you don’t put that down and get the hell off my property, I’m going to do a lot more than sick the cops on you.” Logan raised his chin, clenching his fists at his sides.

“Is that so? Just you and me now, isn’t it?” Jason slapped the bat against his palm, glaring at him. “Do you have any idea what you cost me?”

“I have a general idea, and it’s going to be a lot more soon. Trespassing, destruction of property.”

Jason didn’t use the bat on him, but he could see the look in his eyes when he considered it before tossing it away. He lashed out, slapping Logan across the cheek with that familiar, brutal force that snapped his head to the side.

Logan felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest as he faced Jason down, ignoring the throbbing of his face. “That the best you’ve got? Seems like your dick isn’t the only thing that’s soft anymore.”

“You mouthy little bitch!” Jason snarled, throwing himself at Logan. “That fucking nobody ruined you, that stupid clod with his little brat! You’re mine, you’ll always be mine!”

Logan caught Jason and used his own momentum to throw him against the wall, lashing out with his fists, which clearly caught Jason by surprise. “I don’t belong to anybody but myself, you arrogant piece of shit!”

Jason grunted as he took the lighter blows before pinning Logan’s arms down and tossing him to the ground. He was bigger, and stronger, and he used his own body to force Logan down in the dirt. “Maybe you just need to be reminded. Isn’t that right, pet?” He gripped the back of Logan’s neck in a familiar hold that had his stomach churning with fear and disgust.

“Get your goddamn hands off of me!” Logan snapped, kicking up and out until he connected hard enough to make Jason wheeze and loosen his grip.

He heard shouts and running feet, and Logan scrambled away to slowly stand on rubbery legs as Virgil tore around the corner two steps ahead of Patton.

“I’m fine. I’m okay.” Logan said calmly, although his head was spinning like a carousel. “This bastard might need medical attention, though.”

“Fuck him!” Virgil snarled, reaching out to Logan. His hands feathered over Logan’s face as he checked for injury, scowling. “He HIT you? Jesus fucking Christ, he hit you?!”

“I got him worse, believe me. And we’re going to press all sorts of charges.” Logan gave a wan smile and patted Virgil’s shoulder as he slowly took stock of himself. He scowled as he spotted the tear on the knee of his pants. “Goddammit! I got this suit especially for today. All sorts of charges.”

“The police are on their way. Barbara called on her cell on her way back to Roman’s to get us.” Patton’s voice shook, and Logan could tell from the look on his face it was a combination of fear and rage.

“Good. That’s good.” Logan sagged a bit, the adrenaline draining out of him. “Virgil, can you do me a favor? Bring this piece of shit around front. I don’t want to see him any longer or I might grab that bat and do something that’ll land me in jail.”

“Let me stand him up first.” Patton reached down and hauled Jason up on his feet with one hand. He turned and looked at Logan, all steely blue eyes. “Sorry.” And plowed his fist into Jason’s face, sending him sprawling to the ground again.

“I don’t mind a bit.” Logan could feel a wide grin spreading across his face as his knees wobbled dangerously. “Not one damn bit.”

Virgil hauled Jason up by the back of his collar and started marching him away, grinning meanly as he kicked the bastard’s feet out from under him as they walked. “Oops, you’ve got to watch where you’re going, Brycey.” He looked back at Logan with a grin. “You sure kicked ass today, Lo.”

“Thanks. And if he so much as twitches wrong, you go ahead and hit him as hard as you want. No complaints from me.” Logan gave a tremulous smile as he leaned against the wall of the shop building. “But I think all this ass kicking has left me out of sorts, so if you don’t mind, I’ll sit right here and catch my breath?”

“Here.” Patton took off his suit jacket and laid it on the ground. “No need to mess up your suit any more than it already is.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Logan sank gratefully down, leaning against Patton to take in the warmth and support he offered. He sat quietly until his heart rate slowed to normal, until the tangle of nerves, rage and disgust in his belly had eased a bit. Broken glass glittered in the sunlight, scattered on the ground around them. Glass could be replaced, he reminded himself. He’d mourn his flowers, but he’d save some of the wounded, and he’d grow more. An abundance of more.

“How’s your hand?” he asked Patton.

“Fine. Good.” Patton all but spat it out. “He’s got a chin like a marshmallow.”

“Big strong man.” Logan turned to wrap his arms around him, and didn’t mention Patton’s raw scraped knuckles. Patton gently helped him to his feet, and he leaned in close, refusing to let him go just yet.

“He must have been crazy to think he could get away with this,” Patton muttered, glaring in the direction Virgil had dragged Jason off to.

“A little, I guess. I imagine he planned to be done wrecking my place before the wedding was over. He’d figure we’d blame it on kids -- or the police would. And all I’d have was a mess on my hands. A man like that has no respect for others. He doesn’t believe anyone can best him.” Logan replied softly, resting his head on Patton’s shoulder.

“One did.” Patton shot him a look, clearly indicating he wasn’t referring to himself. Logan rubbed his arms, then clutched gratefully at the lapels of Patton's jacket as he picked it up and draped it over his shoulders, wrapping an arm around him. Logan burrowed into his warmth, unsure if his bones would ever be warm again.

“I can hardly believe this happened. If you hadn’t come when you had--” Logan cut himself off, refusing to entertain that line of thinking.

“We could hear you shouting.” Patton said quietly. “You cost Virgil and I several years off our lives. So I’m going to say this once.”

He turned, taking the lapels of his jacket into his hands and holding Logan steady so he was facing him. “And you are damn well going to hear it. I respect and admire your steely will, Logan, and appreciate your temper and capability. But the next time you so much as think about taking on some lunatic with a bat all on your own, I’m going to be doing some ass kicking. And it’s going to be your ass with the bullseye painted on it.”

Logan angled his head, studied his face, and saw he meant every word he’d said. Son of a gun. “You know, if I hadn’t already decided on this thing I’m about to ask you, that would have done it. How can I resist a man who lets me fight my own battles, then when the time is right steps in and cleans house? After the dust is clear, he gives me a good piece of his mind for being an idiot. Which I was, no question, no argument.”

“Glad to hear we’re agreed on that.” Patton replied dryly.

Logan took a step closer, and wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling his boyfriend closer. “I really love you.”

“I really love you back.”

“Then you won’t mind marrying me.” Logan felt his body jerk, just a little, just once, then settle in against his own, warm and true.

“I don’t see a problem with that. Are you sure?” Patton murmured, gently sliding his hands around Logan’s waist, holding him close.

“If you had asked me that a few months ago, I’d say no, but I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life. I’m a logical person, a person who thinks things through, and then over-thinks them, and then thinks about them some more, and some more still – and yet I don’t know that I can define love. Yet the cliche about love, of course, is that you’ll know it when you’re in it, right?” Logan asked, looking up at him. Patton lifted a hand to gently cup his face, smiling softly at him. “I used to think it happened explosively. That love was something astronomically powerful that not only swept you off your feet, but knocked you down on your ass and soaked through your skin and became an overarching force that was impossible to ignore. But, what if that’s not it? What if love is quiet and soft? What if love is gradual and delicate? What if love isn’t an explosion, but is instead this calm feeling you get when you wake up one golden Sunday morning and realize that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than next to this person whose quirks make you laugh until you can’t breathe? Lately, I think I’ve stopped trying to define it and have started to believe that being in love is about more than just explosive emotion. And yet, it’s also about more than just finding someone to coexist with in the same space at the same time. Love is about finding someone who lights even the tiniest parts of your soul on fire. It’s about finding someone who makes you more you, who will even surprise you every now and then by knowing you better than you know yourself.” Logan leaned into Patton’s touch, feeling his heart leap even now.

“Am I that person to you, Lo?” Patton’s voice was thick with emotion, his blue eyes shimmering with tears.

“I believe I have found that person in you, and no one else will suffice.” Logan’s hands fisted in his boyfriend’s hair, his face intense. He didn’t talk about emotions, didn’t do this very often, so he wanted to take the opportunity to pour out all the words he’d probably never say again while he still could. “I want a safe place to rest my lips, and a soft place to land. I want someone who will keep me in his heart because that’s where I’ll be warm and safe. I want someone who will look at me when I’m at my messiest and kiss me on the forehead, someone who thinks I’m lovely in the morning, and at night, and during all the in between times. Someone who knows how much I like to be whispered to and who isn’t scared off when I’m crying, rare though that may be. Someone who can sense when I’m overwhelmed, who just knows when life is too much and who will, in those moments, stand close enough to me to block everything else out. Most importantly, I want someone who will stand beside me and face my battles with me, rather than standing in front of me. I want you, for the rest of our lives. I want Thomas and Parker and messy pizza nights and and everything that goes--”

Patton cut him off with a fierce kiss, swallowing whatever words Logan may have said. Logan made a soft sighing sound and melted into him, happily yielding in that moment. He leaned on him, knew without a doubt that he could lean on him--and trust him to step back when he needed to stand on his own.

Everything inside of Logan calmed, even when they broke the kiss and he snuggled against Patton’s chest, looking out at the destruction of what was his. He would fix it, save what could be saved and accept what couldn’t. He would live his life, plant his gardens, and walking hand-in-hand with the man he loved, he would watch both bloom. It wasn’t how he’d planned to do this, not by a long shot, but it was still the happiest moment of his life. “Do you think Thomas will be okay with it?”

“Are you kidding? He’d been pestering me for weeks now, asking when I was going to marry you and when we’d get to come live with you forever. Pretty sure he’d already decided you’re his stepfather.” Patton grinned, rolling his eyes fondly at the thought of his energetic son. “Now come on, slugger. I think we’ve got a police statement to give.”

“Mmm. But let’s hold off on announcing our engagement for a few days. I want Roman and Virgil to have their moment. Even if Jason put a dark cloud on it.”

“Are you serious? Virgil got to see him get his ass kicked. He’ll probably thank you for the wedding present.”

Logan threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing in the sunlit air around them. No matter what else came next, he knew he had faced his demons and won. And he would never have to face it alone.

A/N: And that's it! We're done! Welcome to the end of It's Only Logical. I cannot believe I started this fic in 2017. Or that I finished it. I'll probably do some one shots or drabbles from this universe, little stories and bits of things that couldn't fit into the main fic, but the bulk of it is here. And all done at last! Apologies again to my former tag list. I lost it, and I feel terrible that for the end I couldn't tag you all. This chapter won't be any different on Ao3 or Wattpad. For those who weren't aware, Ao3 has the Explicit version of this fic, and Wattpad has this non-explicit version, possibly in an easier format. I've linked both, so if you feel like going back and re-reading all over again, you can. I love you all so, SO much and I appreciate all the support and patience you have given me. <3 Also? Roman stayed behind to keep the wedding guests calm, but he's going to be overjoyed when he hears what happened. And I like to think Virgil finally got to punch Jason Bryce right in his stupid, stupid face.

[ad1thi]

underrated stevetony fics rec list (P1)

i feel like a lot of really good stevetony fics get swept under the rug because this is such a big fandom and sometimes people miss out on quality content?? so this is a rec list of some of the stevetony fics i feel like everybody should have read/ be reading

Edit (31.12.2020): this got very long (i had almost 50 fics on my list, so ive decided to split this list into two parts. part 2 will be out soon!!)

Edit (20.02.2021): part 2 is out now!!

//

picture me in the trees: @ifmywishescametrue

Tony and Steve were childhood friends that almost became more, but Tony moved and they lost their chance. Thirteen years later, a chance meeting brings Tony back into Steve's life.

Free: @iwanttopizzamanyou

"Steve reads, and the words dance in front of his eyes, because while this used to be his dream, what he wanted, all he can think about is how this Hell will soon become his full time life."

Steve discovers fame, with fans waiting for him in the lobby and girls passing him their numbers after the shows. It used to be what he wanted, he supposes. Except his future managers keep asking more and more from him, and he's not sure his old life will survive. Tony is ready to help, and compromise, but Steve maybe isn't anymore.

making it work: @/ironarm 

“Just tell him you don’t want to see him anymore,” Clint replies, finishing the end of his burger and starting to crumple up the wrapper, “It’s not like you love him or anything.”

“Clint, if I thought I could get rid of him about a week ago, I would have. But for some fucked up reason, I can’t lie to him. It’s like, I see those baby blue eyes, and bam. Whatever barrier that I built up from childhood trauma is gone.”

Clint chokes on the last piece of his burger, almost resisting the urge to smack Tony on the side of his head.

Tony was a fucking idiot.

Boys Like Us: @naferty

The video had been a mistake. One of the biggest mistakes he had ever done in his life, and considering Tony Stark had done a bunch of shit in his younger years, and even older years, that was saying something.

It was just that none of those things were as embarrassing as that video.

He blamed Clint for everything

Stained Fingertips: @thesoundofnat

“I don’t really believe in magic,” he said, clearing his throat. “But I’m almost certain you’re a goddamn wizard, Steve Rogers.”

Steve would remember those words for the rest of his life.

(Or, Steve is maybe slightly obsessed with drawing Tony. Not that Tony minds.)

Inhale, Ex-Sail: @summerpipedream

"Rich pirates decked out in top-of-the-line black market gear,” grumbled Tony, ”why don’t I have the budget to make those again?’

Rhodey inched back so that he and Tony were back-to-back. “We’re apparently law abiding citizens now, which means having to pay taxes.”

Tony scowled. “Urg, right. Remind me why I wanted to do that again?”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “What was it you called him last time? Your sweet tart? Your apple pie in the sky? The wind beneath your wings? Hopefully he’ll fly here fast enough so we don’t get killed. Or worse, mugged.”

Tony Stark Bingo K1 - AU: Steampunk

As Constant As A Star: @atsadi

The Swan Princess AU

As young children, Prince Anthony and Princess Natasha of neighboring Midgardian kingdoms are betrothed, and spend their summers together every year until they are wed. Tony adores his headstrong friend Nat: it’s her scowly little companion Steve he’s not thrilled about at first. But soon Steve goes from being a thorn in Tony’s side to being his dearest friend – and much, much more than that. Despite Steve feeling the same way about Tony, the pair still dance around each other for years as Steve struggles to accept his feelings for another man: especially one already betrothed to another. Not to mention that Tony is a prince, and Steve is nothing but a squire.

But before they can make peace, Tony is kidnapped and dragged into the beginnings of another conflict in the nearby magical kingdom of Asgard – he really hates magic. With his potential usefulness diminishing by the day, Tony races to escape even as Steve, Natasha, and their friends race to find him and bring him home.

And—just to make matters worse—Tony has been trapped by a powerful spell and turned into a swan, of all creatures. He really, really hates magic.

Always Yours: @hollyjollyhope

Getting kidnapped is normal for them, at this point. But there's nothing normal about this.

And suddenly, Tony has a choice to make.

Oxeye Daisy (patience): @s-horne

“You make me want things I can’t have.”

Steve startled at the voice from behind him and turned around to see Tony standing in the kitchen doorway. He stared straight at Tony for a long moment. The room was quiet, time stretching out in a thick and uncomfortable silence as neither man dare to move nor opened his mouth to speak first.

White Clover (a promise): @s-horne

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Tony lifted his head as he tried to focus on Steve’s voice. When he managed to open his eyes and blink a bit of the blurriness away, he was rewarded with a gentle smile being shone down at him.

“There you are,” Steve said. “Was worried I was going to have to talk to myself.”

Though his tone was light, Tony knew what he meant. It was no secret that Tony was physically weaker and a hell of a lot more human than Steve was and was therefore struggling more with the lack of regular nourishment that came with being held hostage.

“Course not,” Tony said back, voice hoarse but plastering a smile on his face all the same. His head was pounding and his eyes couldn't stay open. “Would I ever do that to you? You’d never get a sensible answer.”

Acta non verba: @firebrands

unapologetic fluff about two idiots who can barely keep it together with how hard they're crushing on each other

or:

tony has to help steve with math + a halloween party = a good time for everyone, eventually

you take me higher than the rest (everybody else is second best): @firebrands

tumblr fill for adi & anthonydarling, who asked for "'Prank' war, but the kind to see who can make the other blush the most in public" from this prompt list

Adjacent, Against, Upon: @firebrands

A political AU!

Steve Rogers is running as the Mayor of somewhere, America. Tony Stark, his campaign manager, deals with a candidate who isn’t interested in lying, and just wants to do good by these citizens, god damn it.

song of unrest: @omg-just-peachy

How was Steve supposed to reconcile all of this? The way he looked so different but still felt so much the same? It made Steve’s head spin. He knows he shouldn’t care so much, that he is what he is, but he just wants to know.

Paint The Town Blue: @omg-just-peachy

Ten years since he’d seen or spoken to Tony Stark, ten years since they’d broken up to go away to school. And now this email. It could be his only chance to see Tony again.

Camelot: @weethreequarter

For one shining moment, there was Camelot.

In 2019, Karen Page meets Captain Steve Rogers to conduct an exclusive interview on his late husband, President Tony Stark.

In 2007, Steve meets Senator Tony Stark and falls in love.

he thinks he’s lancelot (but he’s more of a sir lamorak): @theotherwasdeath

Tony knows firsthand that violence isn’t funny. So why oh why does he think that the scene playing out in front of him, Steve and Victor Von Doom in a knock-out, drag-down fist fight, is absolutely hilarious?

wildflowers: @tinytonysnark

“So,” Steve begins, clapping his hands together, “the city of SHIELD is in debt. The big ups have sent for financial advisors, all the way from DC! They’re gonna take a look at the city’s spending and make some cuts.”

He squints at the camera against the morning sun shining through the courtyard, “I’m not that worried. Everyone here in the parks department is an important member of the team and absolutely needed.”

The camera swings towards the office where from the large glass window, Natasha can be seen picking up the ringing phone before immediately slamming it back down onto the receiver.

[A Parks and Rec AU]

trinkets of your affection: @starklysteve

Kissed him once for every year I loved him, Steve had written.

By that count, Steve owes him five more kisses now.

Tony traces the words, hands trembling, and tips back a shot of Howard's ancient whiskey. None of it burns anymore.

One day, he'll have lived more days without Steve than there are words in the diary.

For the first time since he'd woken with shrapnel in his chest, Tony fears the future.

----------

Or, five things Tony keeps to remember Steve by, and one thing Steve gives him to remember.

[hypnomicimagines]

For Honor [Samurai!Yamada Ichiro/Reader] - Chapter 4

(This part contains some NSFW and the next chapter will have more!)

He pulled you out of the action before another attack could be directed at you, and you could see the overwhelming guilt in his eyes.

“Run back to the wagon and stay there until I come. We’ll be leaving.”

There’s confidence in his words, as though he knows there’s not a chance of him losing this fight, and while you want to argue you should stay there with him you know it’s a bad idea. If you were to get caught and hurt worse than you had been than Ichiro truly wouldn’t ever forgive himself, you worried he might kill himself in penance right in front of you. The best course of action was getting out of the line of fire and allowing your samurai to work uninterrupted by your presence so you do as he wished without raising a complaint. You dodged quickly to the side at the bandit who launched at you but Ichiro’s fist is quick to connect to his face, sending him falling backwards as you hopped into the back of the wagon.

You think you should be honored to watch the great samurai Yamada Ichiro at work, especially revering the elegance with which his body moved even after being injured. His sword didn’t even seem to be at the top of his priority list as he ripped the dagger from the leader’s chest, kicking him backwards and sending him stumbling to the ground. He moved so quick that you could hardly keep up with the action but what you saw in the next few minutes was a bloodied pile of men who would think twice about bothering you again. You’re pleased to see Ichiro was not lying about his fist-fighting skills as he picked up his sword, running back to the wagon after settling the horses and getting a move on.

It’s hours before you finally stop again but Ichiro isn’t in the mood to be friendly, seeming to pace back and forth as he thought about the events that had just happened.

“Ichiro… Things are okay. I mean, those guys back there aren’t going to mess with you again, right?”

“I should have been more alert! I should not have allowed myself to rest! Don’t you understand, my job is to keep you safe!”

“And I am safe! I’m alive because of all that you did!”

“It never should have happened to begin with.” Ichiro hissed out, but he’s keeping his tone even enough. “Please, go to bed princess. We’ll be reaching the castle tomorrow. No more sleeping in the woods. If I can’t even do something as simple as this…”

“Ichiro.” You mimic his tone of finality, the one he’s used on you countless times, to get his attention. Your hands reached up to touch his face, the emotions still running high as the adrenaline from the event still hadn’t quite worn off. You had been scared, yes, and your head was currently throbbing but you could not blame Ichiro for your predicament. Perhaps if you’d been less distracting, he would have noticed you were being tracked, maybe if you had just stayed in the back you never would have been discovered, there were countless things that could have gone wrong which you could share equal blame in.

“Let me clean your wounds.”

“Please, you shouldn’t have to…” Ichiro’s struggling to keep up his strong front, you can see the pain reflected in his eyes.

“I want to.” You caressed his face in an act of affection you had never shown another person, knowing that Ichiro was the one who deserved it the most. He no longer moved away from your touch and instead leaned into it, your soft hands allowing him to forget himself again. “Come now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Ichiro refused to meet your eye even as you cared for him, most of his armor being stripped off as he likely replayed all that happened in his head over and over. You don’t know how they managed to get the jump on him but you know, from the short time you’ve gotten to know him, that he’s tearing it apart in his head. Of all the good things he’s done for people you’ve noticed he’s always criticizing himself, always pushing towards this ideal of perfection that is impossible for a mortal being to reach. To you he was still amazing, but to him, it was like he was barely holding his head above water.

“Ichi…” You turned his face towards you, dabbing at the cuts as his eyes suddenly darted away as they were about to meet yours. It was becoming annoying now and you were ready to scold him, to say it was rude to not look at a person when they were speaking to you, but you didn’t want to come off that way to him. You didn’t just want to be some princess to Ichiro, you wanted to be considered a friend… or perhaps more than that.

Yet again it’s like you’re forgetting your position, forgetting all the responsibilities resting on your shoulders yet you think you deserve at least something. If you were to be married off, why shouldn’t you be allowed to have a tryst in the middle of the woods with your attractive bodyguard? Just because it could, would, be a one-off moment? A moment that you might never forget for the rest of your life? That might ruin any other partner you’re forced to marry? Too many questions, not enough energy to ponder them, all you knew was that you only trusted one man to keep your heart safe at this point.

A ridiculous notion, considering how long you knew him, but was it any different than being suddenly married to a stranger?

“Just look at me!” Ichiro seemed surprised by the sudden demand and his head whipped towards you, not at all prepared for your next move. He should once again curse himself for being unable to dodge even an unskilled princess, perhaps that’s why those bandits got the jump on him, but he couldn’t wallow in self-pity when your soft lips were pressed against his. They were unlike any sensation he had ever felt before, his body suddenly feeling lighter than air, the sting of his wounds dissipating into the wind as every nerve on his body was suddenly alight with pleasure.

He didn’t push away, not immediately at least, his large hand placed on your waist as you moved your lips deliberately against his. You were soaking in the moment, eyes closed, pretending that this was the man who you would be with for the rest of your days. Things were escalating, both emotionally and physically, and suddenly the thought of what he looked like with every inch of his clothing removed invaded your mind. It wouldn’t leave, you knew how you got when you were excited, until you got the answer to a variety of questions.

“We shouldn’t do this.” Ichiro finally came back to his senses, ripping his hand away from you like you were some sort of porcupine that had just stuck him.

“We shouldn’t, not that we can’t. You’re not saying ‘I don’t want to do this’, meaning you’re not personally opposed to the idea. I’m an adult capable of making my own decisions.” You started off stubborn which he should have seen coming, he could detect that about you from the moment he laid eyes on you.

“A princess isn’t allowed to make her own decisions, just as I am bound to the code of-“

You grabbed him by his shoulders, lips crushed against his again as he nearly fell back onto the ground. His hands grab onto your waist in fear of you falling into the dirt beside him, sitting up and pulling you onto his lap where the kiss continues despite the feeling of guilt he’s drowning in. There had never been another woman who had managed to grab his attention the way you had, there wasn’t a chance in hell that there ever would be, but he couldn’t help but feel he was taking advantage of you. He hadn’t gotten his good reputation through sleeping with clients, so what would happen once this indiscretion was discovered? He had his little brothers to worry about, he had to put food on the table, yet now he was thinking so selfishly.

He couldn’t push you away because he wanted this.

When you moaned into his mouth he knew that tonight would go farther than it ever had between him and a lover, that you would not allow him a moment of peace until he gave in. He doesn’t want you exposed to the outside air in case someone did happen along the cart, using his willpower to pull away from you and turn his head as you tried to chase his lips. You pouted at his rejection but are quickly elated when he motioned for you to get in the back, carefully climbing from his lap and into the wagon where you could be far more comfortable. The woods were safe and quiet enough that if someone to approach Ichiro would hear them, he was on high alert at this point, but he still hoped this would be quick.

Your safety was still his number one priority no matter how much things had escalated between you.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (7)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Sorry for the delay! I either have my shit together in real life or fandom life, but never both at the same time lol. Anyway, I got endless joy from reading all your reactions to last chapter’s clifhanger (sorry not sorry). I didn’t respond to comments because I don’t trust myself not to spoil anything, but just know that I appreciate every single one of your theories. Also, many of you were at least somewhat correct. (Yikes am I becoming predictable?? Gotta fix that.) This chapter ends at a good stopping point, so I’m going to switch gears and write a couple chapters of other fics (which I encourage you to read!!) before coming back to this. But fear not! I have big plans for the future of this fic, and I’ll send you all down the theory rabbit hole soon enough. xoxo

*****

The world narrows until Mac is only aware of two things: his racing heart and the fact that Riley is gone. 

The blood is fresh, but there’s no sign of a struggle—no sign of anything, really. The windows are locked and unbroken, the bedroom door is half-closed the way it always is. Not a single thing is out of place…except for Riley. 

So, where the hell is she? 

His body goes taut as the worst case scenario plays in his mind. Please don’t be gone, Mac silently begs. Please. 

The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. So when the shower turns on with a loud thunk, Mac flinches. Hard. Without thinking, he scrambles out of bed and lunges for the bathroom door. 

As he bursts through the door, Mac’s awareness shifts to three things: Riley is alive, she’s naked, and she’s screaming. 

“Mac!” She hisses, glaring over her shoulder. If looks could kill, he’d be very, very dead by now. At least her back is to him. “What the hell?” 

Mac barely hears her over the roaring in his ears. He scans her naked body, trying and failing to be professional as he scans for injuries. 

His eyes land on the blood smeared between her thighs, then the thin stream rolling down the inside of her knee. As understanding dawns on him, Mac holds out his own blood-covered hand in silent explanation. 

Riley winces. “Sorry about the blood.” 

Mac still feels a little disconnected from his body when he says, “I was afraid you were dead.”

Embarrassment floods Riley’s face. She begs,“Can we please finish this conversation when I’m not naked and bleeding all over the floor?” Mac’s gaze automatically flicks to the drops of blood between her feet, but he doesn’t move. His limbs are still frozen in place, the way they’ve been since he found her. “Get out!” Riley snaps. 

His own embarrassment finally taking hold, Mac stumbles backward, tripping over the door frame on his way out. 

While Riley showers, Mac busies himself by stripping the bed and washing the sheets and blankets. Not just because it needs to be done, but because it’s easier to process emotions when his hands are busy. It feels like he just experienced the entire spectrum of human emotion in the span of three minutes, and now all these untethered feelings are floating around in his head. As he works, Mac examines them one by one. 

He woke up this morning wanting to cuddle with Riley. Not just wanting to, but comfortable enough to act on that desire. 

When his hand landed in the blood, his brain immediately jumped to the worst case scenario. He is deeply afraid of said scenario. 

Then panic set in, as he desperately tried to prove himself wrong. 

Followed by relief at finding Riley and learning the blood was not from an injury, but from a normal bodily function. 

Then embarrassment, because he freaked out and barged in on her over something he could’ve deduced for himself if only he’d just stopped to think. He’s supposed to be smart, so why couldn’t that big brain of his, as Jack would say, figure this out? 

The answer to that question, at least, comes easily: Because it’s Riley, and he doesn’t always think with his head when it comes to her. 

For example, while he’s mortified at seeing her naked, a part of him wishes she’d been facing the other direction. 

Mac starts the washing machine and decides to do the mature thing and hide in the kitchen for the entire foreseeable future. He spies Harley lying on the couch, gazing out a window. “And where were you for all of this?” he asks. “A heads-up would’ve been nice.” 

Harley stares at him for a few seconds before resuming her vigil, and Mac hears the message, loud and clear: You’re on your own. 

When Riley still hasn’t emerged from the bedroom long after the shower turned off, Mac suspects that she’s hiding too. He doesn’t blame her. 

It’s late morning by the time the laundry is finished, and Mac can’t hide any longer. Clutching the still-warm sheets and blankets to his chest, he cautiously ventures into the bedroom. Riley is lying on the bed with her knees tucked up to her chin, and a pang of sympathy echoes in Mac’s chest. Her eyes are closed, but Mac doubts that she’s actually asleep. 

Dropping the sheets on the floor, he asks, “Are you alive?” 

Riley groans. “No.” 

“Could you please go die on the couch then, so I can make the bed?” She groans again and mumbles something incoherent. “Also you’ll feel better if you eat something.” 

“No I won’t.” She sounds like a whining toddler, and Mac has to stifle a snort. Still, a bit of the awkwardness dissipates. But only a bit. 

“Yes you will. I know you, Miss Hangry.” 

“I’m not hangry.” 

“Says the one who skipped breakfast.” 

“I was hiding from you.” 

“So was I,” Mac confesses. Riley cracks a single eye open at that, just in time to see his cheeks heat. “Trust me, I am way more embarrassed than you.” 

It takes him a second to notice that she’s blushing too. “Wanna bet?” 

Mac starts putting the fitted sheet on the unoccupied side of the mattress. “I didn’t see anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Nothing he hasn’t seen before, anyway, but Mac wisely decides to keep that part to himself. “Victoria’s secret is still a secret,” he adds with a wink. 

Riley rolls her eyes. “You did not just say that.” 

“Made you laugh, didn’t it?” Mac gives her a shit-eating grin, and despite her best attempt at hiding it, amusement slips through the cracks in Riley’s unimpressed facade. 

“Whatever. We don’t have to do anything today, do we?” Mac raises his brow at the question. For all the years he’s known Riley, she’s always been more of a ‘suck it up’ kind of person, not a ‘stay in bed’ person. So her question is surprising, if not mildly concerning. 

“Nope.” He pauses. “Are you okay? This isn’t like you.” 

Riley rolls onto her back. “Dude, it feels like someone took a cheese grater to my insides.” 

Mac winces at the mental image. “Ouch.” 

She pauses, as if contemplating her next words before she says them. “I got a new IUD a couple months ago, and this one makes my cramps way worse. I used to be able to ignore them, but this sucks.” 

Not knowing how to reply to that, he squeezes Riley’s ankle in a way he hopes is reassuring. Mac flicks his gaze up to meet hers and finds Riley already looking at him. Her gaze is warm and steady, but Mac can see hints of pain clouding her dark eyes. He thinks it isn’t fair that her body turns on her like this. 

"I'm getting back in bed the second you're done making it," she warns. 

"Go right ahead." 

Riley wanders into the kitchen, and, true to her word, reappears right when Mac finishes smoothing down the comforter, with Harley at her heels. To Mac's surprise, Harley jumps on the bed, waits for Riley to get situated, and then tucks herself into Riley's side. A smile blooms on his face. Riley puts an arm around Harley, pulling the dog into her stomach before moving to scratch her head. When Harley licks Riley’s face in return, Mac suddenly gets the feeling he's watching something private. 

Satisfied that Riley is in capable hands, Mac leaves without another word.

*****

Beneath the weathered wooden conference table, Harley’s head rests on Mac’s foot as she dozes through the Patriots’ council meeting. When they arrived, no one looked more put off by their presence than Conrad, but, true to his word, Ethan welcomed Mac and Riley with open arms and encouraged their participation. A murmur of dissent snaked through the room, but no one openly questioned Ethan’s decision to include them. 

Twenty minutes in, Mac would rather be anywhere but here. The “meeting” so far has been very little business and mostly rehashing some fishing trip a few of the guys went on over the weekend. Mac is holding out hope that it won’t be a complete waste of his time, but said hope dwindles each time someone exaggerates about the size of a fish. 

There’s nothing interesting to look at in the room, save for Riley. No art, no plants, no wall of guns. Not even a clock. Just drab gray walls with no windows. And he doesn’t dare study any of the men for longer than a second or two each. Making an enemy is as easy as looking at someone the wrong way, and Mac has no desire to antagonize the other members of the Patriots…at least not yet. 

Extricating his foot from beneath Harley’s head, he’s just about to make an excuse about needing to use the restroom when Ethan’s phone rings. After quickly checking it, Ethan excuses himself from the meeting with a curt nod to Conrad. Mac understands the look; he’s given and received it countless times himself, after all. Permission to continue without him. Because despite his tendency to toe the line, Conrad is still Ethan’s trusted lieutenant. The exchange is subtle, practiced, and apparently insignificant to the other men at the table, who are somehow still talking about fish. 

When the storytelling finally lulls, Conrad clears his throat. "Let's start with recruitment. Report." No nonsense, right to the point. Maybe he’s tired of the fish conversation too. 

As Conrad steers the conversation through the various items on the agenda, Mac realizes two things. 

One, the Patriots are far more organized than he originally made them out to be. This is no grassroots startup, and their plans go much deeper than protests and parking lot shootings. 

Two, Conrad is careful not to let anyone share too much information, instead asking everyone to give their detailed reports in individual meetings. And it's more than just trying to keep him and Riley in the dark. It's almost as if…almost as if Conrad doesn't want anyone to see the big picture besides himself. 

Mac decides to take his theory for a test drive. "I know I'm new here," he says, "but why have everyone meet with you a second time individually instead of sharing their full reports now? Wouldn't that be a better use of time?" 

Conrad sneers. "On the contrary, boy, why would I waste everyone's time making them listen to information they don't need to know?" 

It takes every ounce of Mac’s self control not to roll his eyes. 

Beneath the table, Riley grips his knee, nails digging in through his khakis. Mac wants to tell her that he’s thinking the same thing she is, but he can’t. The best he can settle for is a brief touch on her arm before needing to do something with his hands to distract himself from the way his skin burns under her touch. He elects to drum his fingers on the table, mostly to push Conrad’s buttons even further. 

If Conrad’s furrowed brow is any indication, it works. 

“Do you mind?” Conrad says with a pointed glare at Mac’s hand. 

Feigning ignorance, Mac replies, “Mind about what?” 

“The tapping.” 

“Oh!” Mac makes a show of sliding his gaze down to his hand before flattening his palm against the table. “My bad.” 

Looking none too pleased, Conrad moves on, but to Mac’s surprise, the man sitting beside him leans in to whisper, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He's not the one to piss off." His words are tinged with genuine concern, and under different circumstances, Mac would appreciate the advice. 

"He's a man," Mac whispers back, "just like everyone else at this table." Minus Riley, of course. 

The man presses on. "The previous occupant of your seat was shot point blank for asking too many questions." Mac's brows raise at that. "You're sitting in a dead man's chair." 

Mac pockets that little detail gratefully, but he hesitates before ultimately heeding the man's warning. He fiddles with the button on his sleeve, impatiently waiting for the meeting to end so he can share his theory with Riley. 

What Mac doesn't anticipate is Riley beating him to it, pulling him aside before they're even back in the car. "Conrad's compartmentalizing information," she says in a quiet, confident tone. 

They’re too exposed to be having this conversation. Mac nervously checks for eavesdroppers, but doesn’t spot any. Deeming it safe for now, he replies, "Yeah I thought so too." 

"He's made himself essential. No one else knows how everything works." Riley pauses, eyes catching on something over his shoulder. Barely audibly, she adds, "An asshole and a control freak." He doesn’t need to turn around to know she’s looking at Conrad, not when she has a white-knuckled grip on Harley’s leash. 

"So if we eliminate him…" 

Riley nods in understanding. He’s controlling everything in an attempt to rise through the rankings and seize power. So if they eliminate Conrad, the whole organization may very well come tumbling down in his wake. 

Now they just have to figure out how the hell to accomplish that. 

"What if we help him?" Riley suggests, reading Mac’s mind. 

"What?" 

"We've spent all this time looking for the weakest link, but maybe…maybe we need to attach ourselves to the strongest one." A stray curl falls in Riley's face, and as she brushes it behind her ear, Mac absentmindedly wishes his fingers were brushing it back instead. Riley continues, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we should help him become more powerful than he already is. That way, we can do as much damage as possible when we take him out." 

A man they don't know walks by, and Mac nods in greeting. Waiting for the man to move out of earshot, Mac drops to one knee, giving Harley a good scratch. She wags her tail and opens her mouth in a smile, clearly enjoying the attention. When the coast is clear again, Mac says, "You just made this op so much longer, but I think you're right." 

Riley snorts. "What, is there somewhere else you need to be?" 

Gazing up at the woman before him, the answer is obvious. Not unless you're coming with me. 

*****

In the gray hour before dawn crests over the world, Mac wakes to something tickling his nose. He exhales sharply, trying to blow it away, but the tickle persists.

His face is pressed into the nape of Riley's neck, and a deep inhale causes a few strands of her hair to go up his nostrils. Reaching up to brush Riley’s hair out of his face, he hesitates right before his calloused fingers brush her skin, afraid that even the barest touch will shatter the moment. As soon as Riley wakes, he'll have to hide behind his mask of indifference, and Mac isn't ready to do that yet. 

For as long as he dares, Mac allows himself to imagine what it would be like to wake up with Riley for real, in his own home. He sees her curled in his bed, sheets pulled up to her chin, hears the soft, steady cadence of her breathing, smells the lingering traces of perfume on her skin. 

Riley stirs in his arms, and the vision blurs, moving out of reach. Mac grasps for it, but it evaporates into nothingness as she settles back against him. 

He shifts his focus to the very real sensation of Riley’s body tucked into his. Her back to his chest, his leg slotted between hers, her ass pressed against his—

Shit. 

Mac jerks backward, trying to put as much space between them as possible before Riley wakes and realizes just what she scooted back against. 

Except, in his haste, Mac doesn’t realize there’s a third party present until his foot slams into the small, warm body lying at the foot of the bed. Guilt washes over him at Harley’s ensuing yelp. 

Awake, Riley mumbles, “Did you just kick the dog?” 

“It was an accident!” Mac insists, sitting up. He turns his attention to Harley. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. You can come back if you want.” He pats the bed in a way he hopes is reassuring, but Harley merely eyes him with suspicion before slinking out of the room. 

“I can’t believe you kicked the dog,” Riley says, still half-asleep. “She finally slept with us, and you betrayed her.” 

“I told you it was an accident!” 

“Betrayal.” 

Mac rakes a hand through his hair. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?” 

“Nope.” Riley sighs, rolling back to her side of the bed, and Mac isn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Or maybe a little bit of both. “You better go apologize.” 

Mac scoffs. “And let you take over the entire bed while I’m gone? I don’t think so.” 

And there it is. The closest they’ve come to acknowledging the evolution of their bed-sharing habits. Particularly the newfound lack of sticking to their respective sides. If he’s being honest with himself, Mac doesn’t know where to go from here. He wants to see it as a sign of things changing between them. Obviously Riley is aware of their precarious positioning, but based on her casual relocation, she doesn’t see this any differently than the dozens of times they’ve slept squished in a small space together in the past. Whether she’s aware of the other thing, she doesn’t let on. 

“Your funeral,” Riley says, pulling Mac out of his head. 

Right. 

The dog. 

The dog whose forgiveness he needs to earn via extra breakfast. Maybe extra dinner too. 

Sighing, Mac goes after her, cursing his inability to get things right with either of the females in this house. 

.

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