#everyone loves Edwin at first sight. I would know

[sthilarions]

Charles is moaning to Crystal because “Why me? He could have anyone, why would he want me?” and Crystal fails badly at muffling a snort. “He could have - ? Charles, you are deeply delusional. Sweet, but delusional.”

[coloursflyaway]

Cry With Joy At The Depth Of My Love

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 18.000

Read on AO3

“Edwin?”, Crystal asks, and Edwin would say something snarky, maybe even something mean, but Charles is wrapped around him like he’ll never let go again, and there are more important matters at hand.

“Crystal, what has happened here?”, he asks, and a few seconds later, their new psychic is standing in front of him, trousers splashed with the coffee she dropped, disbelief written across her face. “I was gone for a few hours and now Charles… and the whole building…”

He’s not quite sure how to put it, most likely because he still doesn’t understand, and Crystal looks at him like he come back from the Cat King’s lair with an additional head.

“Edwin”, she says, slowly, like she is still searching for the words, “what are you talking about? You’ve been gone for six weeks.” ____________ Edwin takes the Cat King up on his initial offer, so instead of a few hours, he is gone for six weeks. Charles isn't good at coping with it.

Tags for everyone who wanted one ♥: @that-ineffable-devil @mentally-unstable-fangirl @tipsyscone @butternutsquashthesenutz @makemeimmortalwithahug @mylu @imineffible @fabledshadow @asherxme @twopercentboy

„Now, I think this concludes our business“, Edwin says and fixes his bow-tie, the collar of his shirt. His lips feel strange, now that they have tasted their first kiss (and their second, and third, and fourth, and…, his treacherous mind corrects him), but this was a small price to pay for safe passage out of this godforsaken town. “So, could you please transport me back to my friend?”

The creature in question unfurls his body from the sofa they were lounging on for the transaction, and even if Edwin cannot find much that is good about this situation, the Cat King at least has been rather civil about it all, no matter his unconventional request for payment.

Even now, he walks closer and there is a smirk on his lips.

Lips, Edwin does not want to look at, because he knows how they feel and knows that they felt right in one, and terrifyingly wrong in all other ways.

“If you insist”, the Cat King drawls, and brushes two fingers across Edwin’s shoulders. “I can take you back to your little friend. But you’re also more than welcome to stay a little longer…”

“No, thank you”, Edwin cuts him off before he can continue, because he needs to get back to Charles, and as soon as possible, too. “As far as I can tell, you have been made quite happy, so I consider my debt repaid and would very much like to return where I belong.”

And the Cat King looks at him like he knows something he won’t tell Edwin yet, and snaps his fingers, and the world changes.

Edwin disappears in front of their eyes, and Charles forces down the spark of panic that comes with that.

The Cat King wanted to talk and Edwin can handle it, of course he can. Even if Charles would have liked it much better if he could have done it within his sight.

The warehouse looks different when it reappears.

Edwin needs a moment to make sense of it, but then his gaze gets stuck on the scratches on the walls, the splintered wood and bent metal, the wrecked throne and the hole in the floor that looks like someone dug it with their bare hands, blood streaked across the grey concrete.

It looks like a crime scene, like a war had been waged inside of it, and then Edwin’s eyes find Charles’ form in the middle of the broken up ground.

He’s sunken on the floor, like a marionette whose strings had been cut, his coat torn to shreds, his white socks stained, and his hair a matted mess of curls. Bits of concrete are stuck in there, but Charles doesn’t seem to notice, like he doesn’t seem to notice anything else around him, and it scares Edwin more than anything ever has before.

Before he knows it, he is moving, gasping out Charles’ name, and for a terrible, terrifying second, Charles does not react. He just sits there, motionless, like he is stuck in limbo; then he looks up, slowly, like he is moving through molasses, and somehow, it’s worse.

There is no life left in his eyes.

Usually, they shine brighter than the sun itself, sparkling with every emotion Charles is feeling, but now their light is dimmed until it has all but gone out, their brown not warm and inviting anymore, but flat.

A sound tumbles from Edwin’s lips, although he cannot quite make out what kind, something between a sob and a plea and a prayer, and Edwin is about to drop to his knees in front of him, when Charles propels himself upwards and flings himself into Edwin with a force that knocks them both to the ground.

If he was still breathing, the impact would force the air out of Edwin’s lungs, but he is certain that even then, he wouldn’t realise it, because Charles is holding him so tightly it compresses his non-existent ribs, like he has been hurt, like he had thought Edwin was.

And he’s crying.

It’s the kind of crying Edwin hasn’t experienced before, but something which he understands anyway; it’s the kind of crying he would hear in hell, seeping through the cracks of his doll house, the kind he would see much later when he was escaping.

It’s crying without any kind of restraint because there is no strength left to fight it, the kind of crying that comes from desperation so deep it captures your entire soul, and forces anything else into meaninglessness.

Edwin has never cried like this before, and he swears right then and there that he will find and butcher whoever did this to Charles.

Three hours have passed and Edwin isn’t yet back.

Charles is doing his very best to keep calm, but it is so, so difficult when the only thing those damned cats are willing to say is, sometimes the King likes to keep them for a while.

What is a while?, Charles had asked, but there had been nothing but a self-satisfied meow, which most likely just means that the cats know about as much as Charles does.

Which is not reassuring, but in the end, it will be fine.

Edwin might not know how to fight, but he’s clever and he’s brave and he would never leave Charles alone.

“Shh, it’s alright”, he is whispering into Charles’ curls, trying to soothe him even though it doesn’t seem to be working at all.

Charles is crying like the world has ended, his sobs so violent they make Edwin’s chest seize up, his fingers grabbing and pulling at Edwin’s clothes like he wants to sink into him and fuse their bodies together.

And Edwin might not know how to fix this, but he’ll damn himself to Hell if he lets go.

He’s about to try and change their position in hopes of making Charles more comfortable, when there is a thud and the sound of splashing liquid behind them.

“Edwin?”, Crystal asks, and Edwin would say something snarky, maybe even something mean, but Charles is wrapped around him like he’ll never let go again, and there’s more important matters at hand.

“Crystal, what has happened here?”, he asks, and a few seconds later, their new psychic is standing in front of him, trousers splashed with the coffee she dropped, disbelief written across her face. “I was gone for a few hours and now Charles… and the whole building…”

He’s not quite sure how to put it, most likely because he still doesn’t understand, and Crystal looks at him like he come back from the Cat King’s lair with an additional head.

“Edwin”, she says, slowly, like she is still searching for the words, “what are you talking about? You’ve been gone for six weeks.”

Edwin has been gone for a day and a half and Charles is going insane.

He knows he’s going insane, but that doesn’t change anything, because Edwin has been gone for a day and a half, and they have never been apart for this long since they met.

“I swear to God, if you don’t bring him back, like, this instant, I’m going to start breaking things”, he tells one of the cats that have come to watch them; it’s not an effective threat because Charles has been saying this for at least six hours, but he cannot stop himself, because he feels like breaking things.

He feels like he needs to break things, and that scares him, but what scares him much, much more is that Edwin isn’t here, and he has been gone for a day and a half, and Charles doesn’t know how to get him back.

“Sure thing, lover boy”, one of the cats replies, and Charles shouldn’t, but he screams.

Silence stretches between them, only interrupted by Charles’ sobs, his heaving breaths.

“What do you mean, I have been gone for six weeks?”, Edwin finally asks, dread of a previously unknown type and magnitude filling him with every tear Charles is crying into his suit.

“What do you think I mean? I mean, six weeks, you have been gone for six weeks, and we have been looking all over for you and this one”, she gestures to Charles, “has taken the entire town apart because he was so convinced that he would have to dig you out of Hell with his own bare hands. That’s what I mean with you have been gone for six weeks.”

And she looks down at Charles who is shaking in Edwin’s arms, and there is tenderness and true affection in her eyes, which vanishes as soon as her gaze returns to Edwin.

“So, like. Good to have you back, but also, what the fuck, how could you do this to him?”

It’s been two days since Edwin was whisked away by that absolute prick of a Cat King and Charles is losing his mind. Whatever he thought before about going insane was nothing, nothing at all, because this is so much worse.

Crystal, bless her, has been trying to calm him down, but there is only so much she can do, which is nothing at all, because Edwin is gone and no one will fucking talk to Charles and tell him what is going on.

So, he is pacing, because he cannot start smashing things up, even if he wants to.

Not because of any consideration Charles has for the Cat King or his kingdom or his subjects, but because Edwin will come back and he will have solved everything, and he will be so cross with him if Charles starts smashing things up.

So, instead, he paces, and thinks about how he’ll hug Edwin once he’s back, no matter if Edwin wants him to or not, and how he won’t let him out of his sight for the rest of eternity.

Six weeks.

The words shatter something within Edwin that he didn’t know existed, tear him down until he’s not sure if he’s still the same person as he was before.

Because Charles is crying in his arms like he watched the world end, and suddenly Edwin doesn’t just understand the emotion there, but feels it deeply, viscerally.

If Charles had been gone for six weeks, he would be tearing the world apart with his bare hands to get him back.

And suddenly, every one of Charles’ sobs is an open wound, every trembling grasping of his fingers a broken bone, every time he breathes in, wet and desperate and painful, is a death he dies, because Edwin is the one who caused this.

Edwin, who was gone for six weeks without knowing, who has left the most important person in his life to suffer without him; Edwin, who can’t do anything but hug Charles tighter, and pray to whatever god will hear him that Charles will be able to forgive him.

It’s been three days and Charles doesn’t care anymore.

He has told Crystal as much, after she had dragged him out on a coffee run, insisting that he cannot spend his entire time in that godforsaken warehouse. Which she is wrong about, he realises as soon as he has stepped outside, because Edwin could come back any second and Charles would not be there to take care of him after whatever this Cat King has been putting him through.

At first, the Cat King hadn’t seemed too bad, not dangerous, more annoying, but apparently Charles had been wrong because Edwin isn’t here, and there is no way Edwin would leave Charles alone for this long, especially because he must know how worried Charles is by now.

So, the only explanation is that the Cat King must be keeping Edwin from leaving somehow and Charles will not allow it.

He should have gone with him right away, shouldn’t have let Edwin out of his sight, will never do so again.

So, he lets Crystal get the coffee she wants, but ignores her looks when he brandishes his cricket bat even before they walk into the warehouse. Maybe he is overreacting, because it has only been three days, but at the same moment, Charles knows he isn’t, because maybe for other people, spending three days away from their best friend is just part of everyday life, but it isn’t for them.

Charles is used to looking up at any given time and finding Edwin within his sight and the fact that he isn’t terrifies Charles to the point where it is hard to think.

That’s why it doesn’t matter that Crystal is obviously uncomfortable when Charles twirls the bat around as he enters the warehouse, just like it doesn’t matter that the cats scatter, not even that Edwin would tut and tell Charles to use his head to solve this, not his muscles.

Because Edwin isn’t here, is he?

“Oi!”, he calls into the vast room and sends more cats running. “One of you little fuckers is going to tell me where your King has taken my friend or I’ll start smashing shit up around here, alright?”

Just to make sure they know he means business, Charles brings down his bat on the closest barrel and feels the metal dent under the impact.

It’s satisfying in a way that scares him, but everything scares him right now, so this doesn’t matter, either.

“Do you hear me?”, he shouts and knows that he doesn’t sound commanding, just desperate, because that’s what he is, desperate and scared and not even good enough to keep the most important person in the world safe. But maybe desperate is enough for this, because desperate people do desperate things and Charles is about to rip this place into bits and pieces until he finds Edwin again.

There is no answer, and Crystal reaches out to tug on his jacket, like she thinks he doesn’t mean it, but oh, that’s where she is wrong.

They have only spent a week and a half together so Charles doesn’t hold it against her, but he’ll show her, just like he’ll show the cats, how much he means it.

Edwin isn’t certain how long they stay like this, but it’s not like he cares either. His mind is still reeling from the revelation that he has been gone for six weeks, his heart caught in a cycle of ripping itself apart for leaving Charles alone and patching itself up once more because he cannot let Charles see how much he is hurting, not when Charles needs him to be strong now.

Despite having existed for over a hundred years, Edwin has never become comfortable with another person’s touch – Charles’ being the exception – but he knows that Charles needs it, so his hands have started running over Charles’ back, combing through his lovely curls, anything that will let Charles know that he is here and he is safe and he isn’t leaving ever again.

“For me, it was only a few hours”, Edwin whispers, a response that comes far too late, feels like far too little, because who cares what it was like for him if it has left Charles in such a state? “If I had known that time passed different there, I would have come back immediately. I wouldn’t have spent a second with that blasted man.”

His hand is cupping Charles’ head, trying to support him through sobs that seem to wreck through his body with the intensity of an earthquake, the tears they bring soaking through Edwin’s jacket and shirt. Even if his spectral skin cannot feel them, Edwin knows it anyway, just like he knows the desperate grip Charles has on his back, the shaking of his slender body in Edwin’s arms.

“Time passed differently-”, Crystal starts but then stops herself, almost like a decision Edwin can see her make, before she crouches down and puts a hand on Charles’ back, just below Edwin’s. Part of Edwin wants to push it away, because it should be him who touches Charles, no on else. “You know what, we can talk about that later. We have to get him out of here first, then we can figure the rest out.”

Metal bends and wood breaks and concrete doesn’t do much at all apart from sending shocks up Charles’ arms, especially if he does it again and again and again.

If he was still alive, his muscles would be screaming, he’d be covered in cuts and bruises, splinters embedded in his flesh and being driven deeper with every motion; like this, there is nothing, just Charles and the cricket bat and the violence he is unleashing.

The first hit had felt good, like a release, but by now it feels like nothing at all anymore, but in the end, he does not do it to feel better, but to get these goddamned cats to finally tell him where Edwin is.

It’s the only thing that matters, that has mattered, will matter, and Charles will take the whole fucking warehouse apart if that is what it takes.

His bat slams into the side of a barrel, denting it, and a cat flees; his bat hits a post and another one does.

“Just give him back!”, he screams and he sounds crazed, but that doesn’t matter either. “Tell me where he is!”

There is carnage around him, there’s bits of wood flying where Charles’ swing has toppled a palette over, and it doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter at all.

It’s nearly impossible to get Charles to stand up and it breaks Edwin’s heart, because Charles should be light on his feet, a flurry of motion even if he is trying to stand still, but instead he stumbles when Crystal helps lift him up. His hands are still clutching to Edwin’s clothes, cramped to the point where Crystal can’t dislodge them, although she is whispering soft nothings, coaxing with even softer touches.

In the end, they shift his arms so that they are around Edwin’s neck, clinging to him when Edwin picks him up like one would a child.

Were they still alive, Edwin wouldn’t be able to carry him a step, but Charles’ astral body has no weight to it, so Charles’ head comes to rest somewhere between Edwin’s neck and shoulder, fresh tears spilling down to wet his collar.

His sobs have quieted somehow, but he is still crying, still mute to Crystal’s questions and Edwin’s attempts of encouragement.

In all the three decades Edwin has known him, he has never seen Charles like this, never this closed off or devastated; it hurts in ways Edwin didn’t know he could hurt.

Crystal doesn’t talk much to him, but for once, Edwin doesn’t blame her: if he had been here in her stead, watching Charles spiral from his usual self to this state, he also wouldn’t want to talk to the person responsible for it.

So, he just follows her to the room she is still renting, holding onto Charles’ trembling form and swearing to never let him go again.

Eventually it’s Crystal who stops him.

She screams his name over the sounds of destruction, an expression on her pretty face that Charles has no energy left to decipher.

“Charles, they are not telling you anything”, she says, and yes, that’s the problem. “Maybe they don’t know. Maybe Edwin is somewhere else entirely, maybe the Cat King has taken him somewhere else in town.”

It makes little sense, and Charles wants to go back and smash another barrel into pieces, just in case it’s this one that will make those fucking cats tell him where Edwin is, when Crystal puts a hand on his shoulder and adds, “Maybe he needs our help there.”

Suddenly, a barrage of images: Edwin kept prisoner, forced into iron shackles; Edwin, being tortured; Edwin, waiting for Charles to come free him.

Charles, who has sworn to protect him and failed once already.

Edwin puts Charles down on Crystal’s bed, but even then Charles doesn’t let go of him and Edwin is touched, Edwin is terrified.

He seems so small like this, curled up on Edwin’s lap, and Edwin’s heart aches with love and with devotion and with an unbearable amount of guilt.

Without thinking, he pushes a hand through Charles’ hair again, but this time, Charles shivers against him, either because of the touch or by chance, Edwin isn’t sure.

“What happened?”, he asks Crystal softly, as not to disturb Charles.

“What do you think?”, she asks instead of answering, “He thought you were gone. He thought you might be gone forever, or trapped in Hell, or another thousand things his poor brain came up with. Would have gotten himself wiped out of existence if I hadn’t stopped him. Or dragged down to hell. He was willing to do absolutely anything to find you.”

She looks down at Charles and Edwin watches her eyes soften, like she is watching something precious; she is right, of course, but part of his heart still screams for her to stop.

“I’m not sure you know how much he loves you”, she tells him, her expression still soft, and it’s preposterous, it’s uncalled for, and Edwin desperately wishes it not to be true.

They search the harbour and the lighthouse, the library and the abandoned houses scattered around town, the high school and the cemetery; Edwin is nowhere and Charles curses Port Townsend and its people, curses the two of them for ever setting foot in it and curses Crystal for bringing them here.

In the woods, they find something akin to a shrine, complete with ancient writing that Charles cannot read, but there is no sign of Edwin anywhere. Around it, skeletons are scattered across the grass, and Charles should care about it, should make this a case, but the thought of it feels so far removed he’s almost surprised when Crystal picks it up to bring with them.

That summons the skeletons and they run, and Charles forgets about it almost immediately afterwards because it doesn’t matter, nothing does.

As Crystal outlines the events in the past six weeks in broad strokes, Charles hardly stirs, even if his tears dry at some point.

He’s not asleep, because that is not a luxury granted to them, but Edwin notices this kind of exhaustion anyway; he’s felt it before, after he had crawled out of Hell, covered in soot and bile and blood, and had collapsed right there on the floor, finally safe, but unable to move for what felt like an eternity.

And he understands it, too: he’d rather go to Hell again than lose Charles.

“He just sat there?”, he asks when Crystal is nearing the end of her tale, because it seems impossible, should be that. Charles is movement, is a constant dance, and yet Crystal is telling him that prior to Edwin’s return, he hadn’t moved in a fortnight. And it should be inconceivable, but Edwin thinks of how he found Charles, sunken into himself like he had become part of the ground itself, and suddenly it is difficult to doubt her words.

Crystal nods, and again her gaze softens when it touches Charles; again something within Edwin twists and hisses.

“He said he wasn’t leaving until you came back”, she explains, and her voice is a caress not meant for him, but Charles, who cannot hear it. “And he said he would wait forever if he had to… and I believed him.”

“Oh, Charles.”

It’s a declaration of love, of sorrow, of everything in between, and for a second, Charles stirs in Edwin’s lap, before he settles back down; it’s for the best, even if Edwin craves to see Charles’ eyes with some semblance of life in them like a starving man might crave a meal.

He strokes his knuckles down Charles’ spine, wishing he could feel the bumps of every vertebra, and Charles presses closer, almost imperceptibly so.

“Thank you for taking care of him”, he tells Crystal and means it, even if the words feel like pulling barbed wire through his airways, because taking care of Charles isn’t Crystal’s duty, it’s Edwin’s. But she was there when Edwin wasn’t, and it comforts him at least a little to know that Charles hadn’t been alone.

“Of course”, Crystal says, and her eyes stay soft, stay on Charles, “but don’t you fucking do that again.”

The vase helps nothing at all, because Charles cannot read the words that were transcribed on it or the table, because he’s useless without Edwin at his side.

Edwin would be able to solve this, there is a reason why he’s the brains of the operation after all, but Charles? The best he can do is put the vase down on Crystal’s table and all but forget about it.

Until he comes back that night from another trip to the harbour, the magic shop, the warehouse, without Edwin, whose absence feels more like a gaping, oozing wound with every passing second, and there is a stranger in Crystal’s bed.

She’s petite and looks peaceful, but Charles doesn’t even get to ask what she is doing there before Crystal starts talking.

“I put some flowers into the weird vase we found”, she says, and it doesn’t explain anything at all, “Dandelions that I found when I went back to check if we had missed anything in the woods, you know, because of the skeletons. And I heard a thud from the hallway and Niko here had passed out right in the middle of it. Which, in itself, would have been concerning, but then...God, there is no way to say this without sounding insane, but there were little people? Crawling out of her mouth? Which are now asleep in the dandelions I put into the vase.”

She looks at Charles like she expects a response, but it’s really difficult to give one, when it’s… well. When it’s not about Edwin.

“That’s good?”, he tries and Crystal rolls her eyes, looking annoyed for a second.

“Charles, I know this isn’t-”, she starts, but then stops herself, her expression softening. “I know you are worried about Edwin, but I need your help with this, okay? It won’t take long, we just have to take those little creatures back to their little altar thing so they won’t crawl back into Niko once they wake up. Can you do that for me?”

It seems reasonable and Charles still wants to say no, because nothing matters as long as Edwin isn’t back where he should be, but then he remembers, dimly, through the pain and the confusion and the gaping hole that is Edwin’s absence, that this is what they set out to do.

Help people.

So, he nods, and Crystal smiles, and that might matter at least a little bit.

“I’ll take him back to London tomorrow”, Edwin says into the silence that has settled around them. “Through the mirror. Not because I don’t want you to come, just…”

He doesn’t quite know how to say it, but Crystal seems to understand it anyway.

“That’s a good idea”, she agrees easily, and reaches out to touch a hand to Charles’ back, just below Edwin’s hand once more. “I think he should be back home and you two… I think it might be good if you had some time to sort through things. I’ll join you later.”

In any other situation, Edwin would ask what she means by that, but right now, it really doesn’t seem to matter, so he just nods, settles back against the headboard, and lets his eyes slip shut.

Charles takes the vase back where they found it, and there should be some kind of satisfaction in it, something about the job being jobbed and the day being saved and the stranger, Niko, being out of danger, but there is nothing but the gaping hole in his chest where his heart is supposed to be, because Edwin isn’t there with him.

When the sun is rising, the first rays of light coming through the windows, Edwin tries to rouse Charles once more.

“Charles?”, he asks as softly as he possibly can, not yet pulling away. “I was thinking, we should go back to London.”

For a few moments, there is no answer, but then Charles slowly, ever so slowly, sits up, his arms still around Edwin’s neck, as if he couldn’t bear to lose their closeness.

And Edwin expects a reaction, but none as violent as he gets when he finally sees Charles’ face again.

It’s not like he has forgotten it; for him, not even a day has passed, and yet it feels like seeing him for the first time.

His eyes are the same brown Edwin has become so familiar with, but they are dull still, even if a hint of life has returned to them; they are rimmed with red, eyelashes clumped together as if Charles had just been crying. And he might have been, even if the thought that he didn’t notice hurts Edwin in completely new, unexpected ways.

“You’re really back”, Charles whispers and the words are a sob and a prayer and an exaltation, and Edwin’s heart breaks because he should never have been back, he should have just been there. “You’re really here.”

There are tears spilling down his face, making his gaze a little brighter and yet not worth it; Edwin reaches out to wipe them away without thinking and Charles trembles under his touch like he never has before.

“I never meant to be away that long”, he tells Charles, although he’s not sure it matters, because he was, and there is nothing he can say or do to make it better. “I never wanted to worry you.”

I never want to be away from you for more than a few seconds, he thinks, but doesn’t say, doesn’t recognise the thought but knows it to be true nonetheless.

“I know”, Charles says, and it’s still half a sob, more tears spilling down his cheeks for Edwin to wipe away. “I always knew that. And you came back and you’re safe and that’s all that matters and I just. I missed you so much.”

And it’s not all that matters, not by a long shot, but for now, Edwin just nods and wipes another tear from Charles’ skin.

Niko wakes up again and she’s lovely in a way Charles knows Edwin would have enjoyed, but if anything, that just makes the need to get Edwin back worse.

It’s been a week and Charles desperately wishes he could sleep, just so he wouldn’t have to feel this all the time.

At least Niko seems to be willing to help, which would be a relief if Charles had any hope left that looking through town would bring Edwin back. But they have been everywhere thrice, have looked at every single thing Tragic Mick has on sale, and Edwin is just gone, like the Cat King has made him vanish from existence.

The thought cuts into Charles’ flesh like iron would, burning hot and torturous and it’s been a week and maybe there’s no other way. Edwin must be hurt or captured or a thousand other things Charles won’t allow himself to think of, and Charles will bring him back, no matter what it takes.

“Could you girls go and check the lighthouse again? Maybe the beach?”, he asks and maybe Crystal is getting suspicious, but he cannot find it in himself to care. “I just, I don’t want him to get back and there not being anyone there to take care of him. Please?”

It’s enough to convince them; they won’t find anything, he knows it deep in his bones, but it gives him the time and the space to go back to the warehouse and do what is necessary.

It takes some convincing to get Charles to let go of Edwin enough to stand up, his hands sliding down Edwin’s arms like he doesn’t want to lose contact, and it’s then when Edwin’s gaze gets caught by something that should be impossible.

There’s red on Charles’ fingers.

Not the red Edwin associates with him, but the red of dried blood and fresh wounds and overwhelming pain; Charles’ fingers are stained with blood, his nails torn to the flesh, some missing ,his knuckles scraped and bruised.

A gasp escapes him, because they cannot get hurt, they are already dead. Wounds, even those from iron, are fleeting, fade within minutes. And yet, Charles’ hands are battered, bloodied, like he had just been punching a wall.

Without thinking, Edwin takes them in his, fingers delicately gripping Charles’ wrists as not to hurt his poor, wounded hands any further, as he raises them up for inspection.

“What happened?”, he asks and hears his voice breaking, feels his heart do the same.

Charles’ eyes flicker downwards and there’s a fleeting look of recognition there, but nothing more. No surprise, no confusion, not even pain.

“Oh, yeah”, he says distractedly, turning his hands within Edwin’s grasp. “It happened a few weeks ago, when I was trying to dig through the concrete. Started out with just a scrapes that healed again, no problem, but then at some point they just stayed. Don’t really know what they’re about.”

“Do they hurt?”

“Yeah”, Charles says easily, like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t send Edwin’s mind spiralling. “But you get used to it, don’t you?”

It’s the warehouse again because it’s always the warehouse because Edwin has gotten lost there, and Charles has to get him back, no matter what.

So he marches into there, cricket bat brandished, and sends the cats scattering. Their King has not yet returned, his throne empty and Charles’s non-existent, aching heart seizes in his chest, like it does every time he looks at that horrible pile of palettes.

For a moment, he wants to beat it into splinters even more than he already has, wants to reduce it to dust, but then he stops himself.

It’s not what he is there to do.

One of the cats is too slow; Charles catches it easily, even if it is scratching and screaming and twisting its little body in a futile attempt to break free.

Charles doesn’t want to hurt it, but if that is what is necessary, he will.

“Tell me where he took my friend”, he hisses at the creature, ignoring that the scratches sting like fire, ignoring that the cat is most likely terrified of him. “If you don’t I’m going to crush every bone in your body and I won’t even regret it.”

There is a moment of silence, and Charles sees his hands covered in blood, feels thin bones splinter in his grip, imagines a life going out because of him, and he doesn’t want to do it, but he will if he has to.

Its little legs kick out again, before they go still and then, with the most contempt Charles has ever heard in another being’s voice, it says, “There is a cave south of here where the King sometimes goes when he doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Is Edwin there?”, Charles asks, a hint of hope blooming in his chest, because it’s a direction at least, a possibility. Yet, he tightens his fingers just so, just enough to let the cat know he means it.

“If you will find him, it will be there”, the cat replies and Charles breathes a sigh of relief, and lets go.

Edwin tries not to watch Charles say goodbye to Crystal, but it’s impossible not to, because Charles won’t let go of his hand. And Edwin cannot feel it, but he knows that Charles’ knuckles are still raw and his nails torn down to the flesh, and it is impossible to think of anything else.

“You’ll take care of yourself, okay?”, Crystal says, and reaches out to hug Charles, who goes willingly, their joined hands dragging Edwin closer, too. Their joined hands, Charles’ bruised and bleeding because of Edwin.

“’Course I will”, Charles answers and buries his face in Crystal’s hair; Edwin wants to tear him away from her and keep him to himself for the rest of forever. “You, too, though. And take care of Niko.”

“I will. Maybe she wants to come with me to London. See the sights. The agency. The haunted vending machine.”

The words give Edwin a start; that case, the vending machine that used to be haunted until Charles and he convinced the ghost stuck in there to move on in 2002, is nothing Crystal should know about. It’s one of the cases Charles and he still refer to sometimes when they pass that particular machine, a little inside joke.

That Crystal knows about it, that this Niko does as well, is an almost physical blow to Edwin’s chest, and for a moment, he does not know why.

But then Charles pulls back, his bloodied hand in Edwin’s still, and says, “That’d be brills. And we can make a few new memories, too. Good ones, this time.”

And suddenly, it is so clear: in the last three decades and some, there have been almost no memories they haven’t shared, and suddenly, there are six weeks of Charles’ existence that Edwin hasn’t been part of and the realisation of it feels like it’s ripping him to shreds.

“We should go”, he says, before he thinks of it, and it is unkind and cruel and selfish to ask Charles to cut his goodbyes short; yet Edwin cannot help but feel relief when Charles looks at him for a second and nods. “I’ll see you in two days, okay, Crys?”

And Crystal, who has a nickname too, nods, and Edwin breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

Charles drags the girls with him to the woods to the south, unsure where to find the cave and yet determined to do so.

Chances are that Crystal is just humouring him, but Charles doesn’t care. And it doesn’t matter, does it, because it’s her who finds it in the end.

“This doesn’t look very nice for a kitty”, Niko comments as they come closer; Charles still isn’t certain if she knows what and who they are looking for, but he doesn’t have the time stop and explain it, not if Edwin might be here, might be hurt, might be being tortured.

“I’m not sure if the Cat King would describe himself as a kitty”, Crystal replies as they get close enough to see into the cave, “But in general, I agree. I don’t think this looks nice for anyone in particular.”

She’s right; it looks damp and overgrown with weed, not a place fit for a king, but maybe for a prisoner.

“You wait outside”, Charles tells them, because he can’t die anymore, and because he isn’t sure if he wants his new friends to see what he’ll become if faced with the Cat King now. “If I need help, I’ll shout for you.”

Maybe Crystal answers, maybe she doesn’t; Charles doesn’t wait to hear it, just pulls out his bat and barges into the cave, ready to knock the whiskers off the damned creature that has taken his best friend, the best person in the world.

Inside, the cave is cosy, carpeted, a large bed and a bar crammed into a corner; it’s magic, quite obviously.

And it’s empty.

Being back in London feels right, even if the hand in Edwin’s still feels wrong.

Not because Edwin doesn’t want to hold Charles hand – he finds, although he never would have considered it before, that the weight of Charles’ hand in his is comforting, the pressure of his fingers grounding, that the occasional tug makes his heart skip a metaphorical beat – but because even without feeling, he is constantly reminded of the state of them, the blood caked under Charles’ fingernails.

Almost, he raises their joined hands again to see if maybe, some of the bruises have healed, but when Edwin turns around, Charles is looking at him with such wonder, such care, such lingering pain, that it takes his breath away.

That look alone is like a stab, a full-body blow, and Edwin hates himself for having caused it, for thinking about his petty jealousies when Charles has been through six weeks of what must have been Hell.

“Charles”, he says softly, because he doesn’t know what else to say, but he doesn’t even get to finish saying his name; before he does, Charles pulls him closer, into another hug, that feels almost as desperate as the one they shared back at the warehouse, kneeling on the ruined concrete floor.

“I thought I lost you”, Charles sobs into his shoulder, and the only thing Edwin can do is hold him. “I didn’t want to believe it for a second, but you were gone for so long and I thought- I didn’t think I’d ever be here again, I didn’t think I’d be here again with you, I didn’t-”

It makes Edwin think of what Crystal said an ocean away, that Charles didn’t want to leave the warehouse, not without Edwin, and there are tears in his eyes now, spilling over and impossible to stop, because Charles there on the warehouse floor, unmoving as the world changes around him, is the worst thing he has ever imagined.

He hugs him closer, and Charles buries his face in the crook of Edwin’s neck, hot tears spilling against Edwin’s skin and soaking into his blazer, changing the fabric in the most fundamental of fashions.

The girls find him eventually.

Charles isn’t certain how long he has been sitting there, but he isn’t sure he cares anymore, because Edwin isn’t here and Charles doesn’t know where he is, so he can’t save him, which means Edwin is somewhere out there, alone and lost and most likely hurt. And he must be waiting for Charles to come, because Charles has always come, Charles has promised him, again and again, that he would always come.

And now, Charles doesn’t know where to go.

He doesn’t know he’s crying until Crystal is crouching before him, dabbing at his cheeks with a crumpled tissue, and it’s like everything falls apart around him, beneath him, inside him, because Edwin isn’t here and Charles doesn’t know how to get him back.

They eventually part, although Edwin isn’t sure he likes it; he’s not used to this kind of closeness, and yet it feels good to hold Charles, to comfort him.

It’s not like Charles goes far either, he keeps one of his poor, battered hands on Edwin’s wrist and drags him to their sofa, pulls him down until Charles can rest his feet on Edwin’s lap, their fingers still intertwined.

At first, it’s difficult to find somewhere to put his other hand, the one that is so used to holding books when he sits here, but Charles looks at him hopefully as he fidgets, until Edwin puts it down on top of Charles’ thin ankle, fingers snaking around to hold it.

“Do you want to tell me about what happened?”, Edwin asks after a few moments of silence – not uncomfortable, but heavy still – but Charles shakes his head almost immediately, dark curls bouncing.

“I’d rather not”, he says, and it sounds prim, almost rehearsed; it hurts in a new, novel way to think that Charles feels like he has to prepare answers when talking to him. “It wasn’t… pleasant. Do you wanna tell me how the Cat King kept you there for so long?”

His immediate response is no, he doesn’t want to tell Charles just what he had to do to appease the Cat King. There is an explanation ready on his lips, one he has rehearsed, back when there were lips on his throat, leaving imperceptible marks, but then he thinks of Charles’ hands, of his eyelashes clumped together with tears, and Charles deserves the truth, especially because there is so little else Edwin can give him.

“He asked for a kiss. Or rather, several”, he explains, then, because he isn’t certain how much Charles understood back then, on the warehouse floor, “For me, it was only a few hours, but wherever he took me, time must have been stretched there. It is the only explanation I can come up with.”

And he expects a chuckle, a smile, anything at all, but Charles’ eyes go dim again, go dull, and Edwin hates himself with renewed passion for causing it.

Charles isn’t sure how they end up in Niko’s room; he cannot remember walking, cannot remember teleporting either. But they do, and he is still crying, surrounded by pink and purple and bright yellow, and there are two sets of arms around him and they still don’t make him feel better.

He can’t remember the last time he cried, and he doesn’t think he ever cried like this before, not even with his father’s belt raining pain down on him. This is worse, because this is Edwin, and this is forever, and this is all his fault.

“Maybe the cat just didn’t know”, Crystal says softly, rubbing a hand along his back; for a brief moment, Charles wishes he could at least feel this. “Maybe their King doesn’t tell them much, I don’t think kings usually do. We’ll just keep looking. We’ll find someone who does.”

It’s meant to soothe, but it doesn’t; if anything it makes Charles cry harder, because who is left? He could go through the cats, one by one, and he will if necessary,, but if this one didn’t know, why should the next one be any better?

He doesn’t know how to answer, because any sound that comes from his lips is coated and drowned and swallowed by sobs, but he doesn’t have to, because Niko kisses the top of his head, and says, “You did mention a witch, maybe she knows? Maybe she has one of those crystal balls to look inside and find your friend!”

And she’s wrong, because Esther would never help them; and she’s right, because Charles has questions for her anyway.

A bit of light returns to Charles’ eyes quickly, thank God. Edwin isn’t sure what snuffed it out in the first place, but he swears not to make the same mistake a second time; his soul would not be able to take it.

He tries to keep the conversation light, only that so much of it seems to be caught up in everything that has happened.

It’s unusual, having to tread lightly around Charles, and Edwin hates it with a passion that surprises even himself. But it just feels so wrong, even more so than watching Crystal’s hand on Charles’ back, hearing her mention anecdotes from a life she wasn’t part of.

So, when he again almost asks Charles just how Crystal could have known about the cursed vending machine, he instead picks up the book lying on their side table and holds it up without even looking at the title.

“Do you want me to read you something?”, he asks, because back when they first met they occasionally did this, especially on winter nights whose cold they couldn’t feel, when Charles still remembered dying.

For a second, there is silence, Charles’ thumb brushing warm across the back of Edwin’s hand, and Edwin could live in this moment for the rest of his existence.

“The Complete Encyclopedia of Uncommon and Rare Arachnids?”, Charles asks, and there is a hint of his usual smile curling around his lips, a ghost of his normal teasing.

“I could get another book”, Edwin counters, and gives Charles a smile in hopes of getting a real one in return, “but I would have to get up to get it.”

And Charles is shaking his head immediately, and the smile on his lips grows into something Edwin almost recognises.

He reads the Complete Encyclopedia of Uncommon and Rare Arachnids to Charles for hours.

They get to E.

“Don’t do this”, Crystal repeats for the dozenth time, but Charles doesn’t slow down his steps, doesn’t even think about it. “Charles! Don’t do this. You remember the last time, she’s dangerous.”

“I know”, he answers, and he does. It’s just that it doesn’t matter. “That’s why she might have Edwin. Because she’s dangerous. Or she might at least know where he is. I can’t, Crystal.”

And he does stop, just for a second, turns around to see her and Niko trailing after him, Crystal obviously distressed, Niko most likely just confused. And he wants to care so much, but he just can’t.

Not when it’s Edwin.

“You stay out of this, Crys, please. But I can’t, not when it’s him. If there is any chance that Esther knows what that goddamned Cat King has done to Edwin, then I have to try. I have to.” He doesn’t expect Crystal to understand; they don’t know each other for long, it’s a miracle she’s even here still. “He’s my best friend. He would do the same for me.”

For a moment, nothing.

Then Crystal’s expression softens, like she might understand after all, and she nods.

“Alright”, she says, “Niko and I will stay around the corner and I’ll try to read her mind. But be careful, Charles. You won’t be much help to Edwin if you join him wherever he is.”

Night falls and they are still wrapped up into their cocoon of warmth on the couch, Charles’ hand by now a familiar weight in Edwin’s.

“I know you want to ask”, Charles says into the comfortable silence, and Edwin rejoices just for the pleasure of hearing his voice. “And I’ll tell you everything you wanna know, just… not now, okay? I want to enjoy having you back before I have to think about all that again.”

“Of course”, Edwin answers and he means it, understands it, too. He looks down at Charles’ hand in his and that is enough for now. “Whenever you are ready. There is no rush, we have the rest of forever to figure it out.”

Charles’ fingers twitch in his and it must be the light, but the knuckles look slightly less raw, less torn. Without thinking, Edwin lifts their hands to his lips and presses a kiss on the wounds, hoping that it won’t cause more pain.

It gets a response, at least, a sharp intake of breath, Charles’ fingers clenching around his, but when Edwin looks up at Charles, allowing their hands to drop once more, his eyes are wide and warm and a little alive.

“Doesn’t hurt”, Charles answers the question Edwin has yet to ask, but his voice sounds a little strangled still. “It’s just that you don’t usually do… any of this. I thought the hand holding would be almost too much, I just couldn’t let go.”

Because I need to make sure you’re really back, he doesn’t say, but Edwin hears it anyway. And the sentiment hurts, the thought that Charles thinks physical touch is a burden to him to the point of trying to let go of Edwin’s hand for his sake.

“I do not mind it in the slightest”, he declares, making sure to tighten the grip he has on Charles’ hand. “Not if it’s you.”

And Charles’ eyes widen once more, a spark in them igniting, and Edwin kisses his knuckles, one by one, vowing that he won’t let go until Charles can look at him without fear in his eyes.

“Esther!”, he yells before he has even reached the door, ready to barge in without knocking, even if Crystal has implored him to at least stay outside of Esther’s house. “If you don’t come out, I swear to God, I will come and find you and-”

“What?”, the door swings open and Esther is standing there, pipe at her lips as she regards Charles with a put upon kind of disinterest. “I heard you boys were still in town, but oh my God, can’t you let a woman cook up her revenge in peace? You boys are so annoying.”

If he was still alive, his teeth would splinter from how hard Charles is clenching them; his fingers are itching to grab the bat and just try and mash her face in.

“Do you know where Edwin is?”, he asks instead, because that’s more important than feeling her skull split apart again.

“Who’s Edwin?”, she drawls, taking a drag from her pipe and blowing the smoke into Charles’ face. “Is that the other one? I can’t keep up with you kids and your stupid little names.”

“That’s him, yeah”, Charles answers and God, he wants to smash her kneecaps in, he wants to beg her to help, he wants to storm past her and tear her house apart until he finds Edwin. “Do you know where he is?”

“You seem desperate”, Esther says, smirking, taking another drag from her pipe. “I like it. What’s it worth to ya?”

“Everything”, he replies, although he shouldn’t, because in the end, it’s the only answer he can give.

“Love that. Not for you, but for me.” Esther is sizing him up, obviously considering something Charles won’t like the least, and yet he knows that he will do it, no matter what it is she asks, if she can only tell him where to find Edwin. “It’s gonna cost you, and I mean, like, a lot.”

“I’ll pay it”, Charles answers without a second of hesitation, and Esther smirks in a way that should make him regret his words; it doesn’t. “Whatever it is, I’ll pay it.”

Sometimes, Edwin forgets how different they get to experience time; sometimes he's forcibly reminded of the fact. Because Crystal and Niko find them like this, wrapped up in each other.

Part of Edwin wants to tear himself away from Charles, although there is nothing untoward they are doing, but another, one he understands even less, wants to press closer, wants to kiss Charles' knuckles again and let the girls see.

"You made it!", Charles exclaims when he sees Crystal, voice sounding at least a fraction alive, and Edwin loves it, despises it at the same time. "How was the trip?"

They are dripping rain water on the floor, Edwin belatedly realises, but he decides against mentioning it anyway, less for their sake and more for Charles’.

“It was alright. Long, mostly”, Crystal answers, pushing a hand through her thick curls and sending a spray of water down onto their wooden floor. Edwin does his best not to notice it. “How are you? Is everything alright?”

The concern is palpable in her voice, almost a physical entity in the room, and Charles seems touched by it, his eyes softening and another sliver of a smile playing across his lips.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Edwin’s here”, he replies, like it explains everything, and Crystal nods, as if she agrees that it does.

Her gaze flickers over to Edwin for a second, then back to Charles, whose fingers clench around Edwin’s almost imperceptibly before he shakes his head, the motion so small Edwin almost misses it.

He’s about to ask what he is going on, but then Niko steps forward, spreading even more water on their floors, and Edwin is distracted by the bright teal of her coat, the white of her hair that wasn’t there before he was taken.

“You must be Edwin”, she says and holds out a hand that Edwin cannot take without letting go of Charles’. “Charles has told us so much about you.”

“That would be me, yes. I apologise, my hand is currently quite occupied”, Edwin answers, then raises their joined hands to help explain why he cannot shake Niko’s; an expression flits across Crystal’s face, too quick for Edwin to make sense of it, yet Charles seems to understand it easily.

It shouldn’t bother Edwin as much as it does.

“Ooh, that’s okay”, Niko says, and she sounds like she means it. Her eyes are wide and happy and suddenly, even without knowing much about her, Edwin is glad that she was with Charles when he was gone. “You should be holding Charles’ hand, that’s much more important. I completely understand.”

And silently, Edwin agrees.

Esther is grinning at him in a way that reminds Charles of the snake Edwin had found in her house, cold and dangerous and like he should be running from that smile.

Instead, he takes a step forward, and he would take another if Crystal wasn’t suddenly next to him, yanking him back.

“She doesn’t know a thing”, she half hisses, half shouts, her voice as deadly as Esther’s smile. “I read her thoughts and there is nothing in there. She just wants you to promise her that you’ll do what she asks, and then use you.”

Her grip is so strong Charles feels it through his clothes, through the barrier to physical touch that is death, and as she yanks him back, Charles feels the heart he doesn’t have break in his chest once more, because for a moment, he had had hope.

Esther cackles and Charles knows there are tears spilling down his cheeks, even if he cannot feel them.

“Well, it was worth a try”, she says, sounding like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t matter at all, and something in Charles just snaps.

Crystal’s hand on his shoulder still feels solid, but the cricket bat in his hand does even more so, especially when it connects with Esther’s still-smirking face.

While the girls go and dry off, Charles sinks back into the cushions, his eyes fluttering close. Almost, he could look relaxed, but Edwin can still see the tension in his body, like a spring curled tight and waiting for the lightest touch to set it off.

Edwin wants to soothe him, but he doesn’t know how to, especially not when there is still so much he doesn’t know about those six weeks.

He is trying to figure out a way how to ask, or at least hint at it, but then Charles opens his eyes again, and they are softer than they should be when Charles has been through so much.

“I think you’ll really like Niko”, he says, and he sounds wistful somehow; Edwin desperately wishes he knew why. “She’s pretty brills. Might have saved me once or twice.”

“Saved you? What from?”

Edwin imagines Esther and her giant snake and Hell and everything in between, but Charles’ eyes don’t change, neither does his voice.

“Myself, really.”

In the end, it takes both of the girls to pull him off Esther.

His whole body is aching from her iron cane in ways he had forgotten he could hurt, but the pain is distant, far away; the only thing that matters is that she had said she knew how to get Edwin back and she had given him a sliver of hope and then she had snuffed it out again.

Another thing that is far away: he is screaming, or crying, or both; two sets of hands drag him down the steps, and Charles knows he’s fighting them, because… because he doesn’t know what else to do.

And then he’s just crying.

Arms pull him close against a solid chest, fingers card through his hair, and there is nothing stopping the sobs wrecking through his body, so violently Charles feels them almost like he had felt the hits from Esther’s cane.

He doesn’t know how long they stay there, crouched on the ground, but it is a long, long time.

When they come back, Niko hops onto the sofa’s backrest and Charles looks up at her with obvious affection.

“Do you need some band-aids for your hands?”, she asks, placing a little box on her knee. “I brought the Hello Kitty ones.”

The words make no sense to Edwin, but Charles nods, and Edwin hates how much he doesn’t know, hates that they ever had to spend time apart.

Charles twists and turns until he can put one of his bruised hands into Niko’s lap, who inspects it, before a bright, bright smile spreads across her face, like a sunflower opening to greet the morning.

“It looks better!”, Niko tells him, and she’s right; the knuckles are still red, but have scabbed over, the cuts are a little less prominent against Charles’ warm skin.

“Does it?”, Charles asks, and sits up straighter to see for himself. “I guess your dad was right, then.”

“I told you.” Niko is pulling a pastel pink band-aid from her box, unwrapping it before placing it gently across one of the deeper scratches on the back of Charles’ hand. It covers only half of it, if even.

“Charles”, Edwin starts before he can stop himself, “what is the purpose of this? Those patches won’t make your wounds heal any faster.”

It takes a moment, but then Charles turns to look at him; it’s a silly thought, but it almost feels like Edwin has missed his eyes on him.

“They won’t”, Charles agrees, and his lips are curved into an almost-smile. “But it will make them heal better.”

Charles cannot remember how they get back to the butcher shop, but they do, because Charles ends up sitting on Niko’s bed, while she rummages through her night stand.

He isn’t certain what she is looking for, but she finds it with a little ah!, and returns to the bed with a box in her hand. It’s metal, dented and scratched in a way that shows it has been loved; she opens it and there are dozens of colourful band-aids inside, waiting to patch someone up again.

“Now, I don’t know Edwin”, she says in a strange cadence, like she is trying to figure out what to say while speaking.”But if you love him so much, then I don’t think he would like you to be hurt. And since he isn’t here to make it better, I will try.”

The words make Charles’ eyes sting with tears once more, because Niko is right, Edwin wouldn’t want him to hurt; because she is right, Edwin isn’t here.

“Ghosts don’t-”, he starts, because if he doesn’t talk, he’ll start crying again, “Our wounds heal differently. Those band-aids won’t make them heal faster.”

Niko stills for a moment, then takes one of his hands in hers, which is scratched from Esther’s cane. The wounds won’t last more than a day, Charles knows it, but Niko still touches his hand with so much care, as if she thinks she could hurt him.

“My dad used to put band-aids on my knees when I fell from my bike”, she tells him as if it’s an answer to a question Charles hasn’t asked; maybe it is. “And he always said that even if that wouldn’t make the scrapes heal faster, it would make them heal better.”

And Niko looks up at him, her fingers cradling his hand like she thinks he can still feel it.

“Do you want a pink or a green one?”

“Pink”, Charles says, and doesn’t bother to blink the tears away this time.

Niko covers Charles’ hands in band-aids until she runs out of them, Charles’ wounds too numerous for what her little chest holds. They feel strange against Edwin’s palm when Charles switches the hand he is holding Edwin’s with halfway through, the plastic so different to Charles’ skin.

He watches the exchange and it tugs at his heart in ways he doesn’t understand; it hurts and it heals, because at least Charles had someone to put little plastic patches over his wounds, even if how familiar both of them are with the process means that there must have been far more wounds than Edwin was aware of.

At the very end of it, Niko places a kiss on Charles’ knuckles and Edwin’s lips ache in jealousy.

“Thank you”, Charles tells her, and she nods, bright and happy, before she starts sliding off the backrest.

She stops, though, and cocks her head as she looks at Edwin.

“The kiss makes the wounds heal even better”, she says, like imparting a secret, and then, she’s gone.

“You can’t keep doing this”, Crystal tells him the second they are alone, in a voice that allows no objections; Charles knows he will object anyway. “Charles, I know you cannot die a second time, but you cannot keep doing this. Esther hurt you and we had to watch and I just. I can’t do that again. I know he’s your best friend, but you’re running yourself into the ground with this and I don’t know if I can watch it happen.”

She looks like she means it and Charles wants to help, but if there is one thing he cannot give her, it’s this.

“I can’t”, he answers, and looks down onto his hands, peppered with brightly-coloured band-aids someone who cares about him put there, up at Crystal who saved him from being bound to a witch’s whim, and yet it all pales in comparison to the gaping hole in his chest where Edwin’s presence usually lingers. “I’m so sorry, but I just can’t stop, not as long as he’s still gone.”

He wants to tell her about how Edwin would do the same for him, about how he has saved Edwin from a hundred monsters and will save him from a thousand more, about how he isn’t sure if he can continue existing without Edwin at his side.

But he doesn’t get to, because Crystal takes a deep breath, and asks, “What if he’s not trying to come back?”

The question shocks Charles into silence, but Crystal continues talking anyway, words blurring into each other with how fast she is speaking.

“I didn’t want to say anything, because I know how much you care for him, but maybe he just left. Maybe that is why we can’t find him anywhere, why the cats couldn’t tell you anything either. Because he doesn’t want to be found.”

And it’s-

It’s the most ludicrous thing Charles has ever heard in the fifty-odd years he has spent on this Earth.

“No”, he tells Crystal, “No, you’re wrong. And not because I couldn’t bear it although I really, really couldn’t, but… that’s not how we are, Crystal. He wouldn’t leave. Never. If there is anything in the world I know for certain, it’s that Edwin wouldn’t leave. And that means he’s out there somewhere and he is hurt or captured, and he is waiting for me to come and get him. And I will, Crystal, no matter what happens, I will.”

There’s nowhere in the agency for the girls to sleep, so they set out to find a hotel, and Edwin breathes a sigh of relief, even if he hates himself for it only moments later.

He shouldn’t be so jealous of Charles’ attention, his affection, especially not when Crystal and Niko have stuck with him for six horrifying weeks, and Edwin should be nothing but grateful to them for taking care of the best, the most important person in existence instead of him.

But the door closes behind them, and it’s just Charles and him once more, and Edwin is weak, is possessive and greedy and looks down at Charles’s hand in his, and thinks that at least one thing is right in the world.

“Alright”, Charles says and turns to look at Edwin. “You can ask me. Not about everything all at once, maybe, but you can ask me.”

It should take him at least a second to understand what Charles is talking about, but it doesn’t; Charles says you can ask me, and there’s a thousand questions swarming through his head immediately, begging to be spoken aloud.

He nods, but before he can decide on any one thing to ask, he takes Charles back to the sofa and makes him sit down, their hands still loosely joined between them.

Touch is something Charles has always needed, but now, with Charles so hurt, so vulnerable, Edwin realises that he needs it almost as much.

There are so many things he wants to know that it feels impossible to settle on one thing, at least to start with, until suddenly, there’s a question that blazes through his mind so painfully that Edwin speaks it out-loud before he has a moment to reconsider.

“Did you ever doubt I would come back?”, he asks, then corrects himself, “No, did you ever doubt that I wanted to come back?”

He tells himself that he’ll accept any answer Charles will give him and it’s the truth; another truth: if Charles ever doubted that the only place Edwin wants to be is at his side, it will shatter his heart to pieces.

“Of course not”, Charles says, not missing a beat, and Edwin gets to keep his heart after all. His voice is soft and his eyes are, too, even if their light is still dimmed. “I’d never doubt that. It’s you and me against the world, isn’t it?”

Edwin nods, and there are tears in his eyes he does not deserve to cry.

“Thank you”, he says, unsure what he is thanking Charles for: for still being here, for believing in Edwin, in the strength of their friendship, for enduring all of it. “I know it must have been Hell, because that’s what it would have been had the roles been reversed, but something must have happened, because your hands…”

Without wanting to, he looks down at Charles’ fingers, wrapped in bright plastic, his own woven between them, pristine because he allowed the most important person in existence to go through this alone.

“I’m not really sure”, Charles replies, and when Edwin looks up again, it’s Charles who is staring at their joined hands. “To be honest, I didn’t really stop to think about it. We found out about this other dimension the Cat King uses to escape, and I just went mental, didn’t I? Started trashing the warehouse completely, and when my bat broke, well. I just used my hands. I guess they’re not as sturdy.”

He tries for a smile, and it rips Edwin’s heart to pieces.

“You-”, he starts, but doesn’t get the words out, because the thought is too much to bear, the images of Charles ripping his fingers to shreds to find him too vivid.

“Had to get you back somehow, didn’t I?”, Charles asks, answers, still smiling, and Edwin cannot take a second more, so instead, he pulls Charles against his chest and hugs him so tightly he knows that, if he had any bones left, he’d feel them creak.

Maybe he should be discouraged, maybe it should be difficult to go back out and start looking for Edwin all over again, but it isn’t.

What would be difficult is sitting down and waiting; what would be impossible is to let Edwin stay wherever he is being kept.

So, he walks.

Past meadows and across streams, up hillsides and then looks down into the valleys and still finds nothing, nothing at all. It’s maddening, it’s the worst thing he has ever felt, because the scenery is beautiful, the days long and the sun bright, and Charles feels like he is dragging himself through barbed wire and broken glass.

When he gets Edwin back, he’ll never let him out of his sight again, he swears when he walks up to the lighthouse once more, for the fifteenth or five hundredth time, sparing a look at the ghosts sitting there, watching the water. He’ll keep him close, keep him in his sight, keep one hand in Edwin’s, no matter if he likes it or not, for the rest of eternity, just to make sure he won’t stray too far.

It becomes a thing between them when they are alone.

Charles will look at him and say, one question, or three questions, and Edwin will go through his mental catalogue of them, realising how much he hates that there is anything about Charles he does not know all over again, every single time.

How long did you wait in the warehouse at first?, he asks, and Charles says, days. Crystal had to force me to leave it for the first time.

Why is Niko’s hair white now?, he asks another time when they sitting on the roof, the sounds of the city dulled down to a gentle buzz. Oh, that was mental, actually, Charles answers, and launches into a story about gnomes crawling from her mouth, and Edwin sits there and watches him, and wishes Charles would tell the story like he would have two months ago, animated and excited about it, instead of matter-of-factly.

How long would you have stayed on that floor?, he asks, and doesn’t know if he wants to hear the answer this time, only knows he has to. And Charles looks at him strangely, fondly, sadly, and says, forever, mate.

Crystal catches up with him at the warehouse again, where he is pacing on the horrible, hated concrete floor, thinking about battering it open and seeing if he can find Edwin between the pieces. She’s been looking at him more often now, so openly worried Charles sometimes finds it difficult to hold her gaze, but there is nothing to be done about it, is there?

It’s the same way she is looking at him now, forehead furrowed and her dark eyes on him feeling like they are taking Charles apart, piece for piece, thought for thought.

“What are you looking for?”, she asks like she doesn’t know it, like the answer has ever changed.

He doesn’t answer, because he doesn’t know how to say Edwin’s name without breaking into tears, because if he says his name, he might not stop anytime soon.

“Charles”, she tries again and it stops his feet mid-step, “Charles, what if you don’t find him? What if he never comes back?”

It’s words that never should be spoken, because they cannot be allowed to be true, and Charles closes his eyes, just to save himself from the look in Crystal’s eyes.

“I’ve been to Tragic Mick’s shop and I asked him about ghosts and their wandering, because you are scaring me”, she continues, “and he told me that the only ghosts who wander are those that killed themselves. And that scared me even more.”

And Charles wants to shake his head and tell her she’s wrong, but it feels like that somehow; like half of him died and he is doing everything he can to follow.

Niko comes to change Charles’ band-aids and Edwin doesn’t think about it much, just watches her take out the box and tell Charles about the characters depicted on them. The wounds themselves have healed slightly, and even if no one knows why, Edwin breathes a sigh of relief at the discovery.

He expects Niko to let Charles choose a colour again, like she has done before, but instead she turns to him, who is just there because Charles is still holding his hand like it’s a lifeline.

“I think you should choose the colour this time”, Niko tells him, holding out a hand with three different band-aids in it, three different colours, three different patterns.

“It’s not my hands, though”, Edwin protests, but Niko just shoves her hand closer.

“No”, she agrees, “but they’re your wounds, too.”

And Edwin glances at Charles, who, for once, isn’t looking back, takes in the sharp cut of his jaw and the dullness of his eyes, thinks of his bleeding knuckles and broken nails, and knows she is right.

“This one, then”, he says, and leaves the green one, covered with leaves, the yellow one, covered with stars, and picks up the red one, covered in hearts.

The thought doesn’t appear gradually, it rips through him one day when he is walking through the library, forgetting to avoid the bookcases and just phasing through them instead.

Two days before, Niko, in a futile hope to console him, had put a hand on his shoulder and given it a squeeze.

“If he has come back from Hell, then I’m sure he’ll come back from where he is now. Especially if he knows you are waiting for him”, she had said, and back then, Charles had just tried giving her a smile, not thinking anything of the comment.

But now, it’s like a bolt from the heavens, a thought so devastating it leaves him gasping in the middle of the room, clutching at his chest like he still had a heart to calm.

He knows little to nothing about the Cat King, because in the end, Edwin had always been the brains of their operation, the one with the encyclopedic knowledge of anything supernatural, but something he knows intimately are Edwin’s stories about Hell.

Most of them, he has heard at least a dozen times, and even if that is not enough to imagine the horrors there, it’s enough to know that the entities there use souls like bargaining chips.

Edwin had told him before that he had been traded from demon to demon, and back then, in the comfort of their agency, Charles had shivered and put a hand on Edwin’s shoulder in lieu of pulling him against his chest, tucking Edwin’s head under his chin and never letting him go again.

Now, a picture forms in his mind that is so terrifying Charles feels like screaming, and Edwin is not here, so Charles will claw him from the mouth of Hell itself this time.

“Charles, could I borrow Edwin for a second?”, Crystal asks one evening, and Charles’ fingers tense around his own.

It’s a strange phenomenon that has only increased with time; occasionally, Edwin thinks he can almost feel Charles’ touch, not as just resistance, but like he used to when he was still alive.

“It won’t be long and I’ll bring him back, I promise”, she adds, not even bothering to ask Edwin, just assuming he will follow her.

“Yeah, sure”, Charles eventually answers, even if a second too late, and slowly, ever so slowly, untangles their fingers from where their hands had been resting between them. It’s the first time since Edwin has come back that they are not touching, and Edwin feels the loss of it immediately, his fingers itching to find Charles’ once more.

For now, though, he only gives Charles a smile before he follows Crystal outside, where she stops immediately.

Her expression is one Edwin cannot decipher, anger lingering behind her eyes, but almost concealed by something much greater, much more important.

“Do you have any idea how much Charles loves you?”, she asks, and the anger is there in her voice, the other thing is, too. “I know I asked you before and you said yes, but I don’t think you do. And I think you need to.”

“I am perfectly aware-”, Edwin starts, but he doesn’t get far.

“You are not”, Crystal interrupts him and she sounds so certain that Edwin feels helpless hearing it, because even if he doesn’t believe her, there are things now that she knows about Charles and he doesn’t. “I watched that boy beat up a witch that almost took out all three of us, because she had lied about knowing where you were, and the only reason he didn’t bash her immortal head in was because Niko and I pulled him off of her. He was willing to sell his soul to her just to get you back. To a demon, too. He nearly ripped off his own fingers trying to reach you, because he couldn’t imagine a world without you in it.”

She pauses for a moment and Edwin can’t speak, can hardly think, his brain trying to sort through the information and failing, because it hurts too much.

“I thought he was going to die, Edwin. Cease existing. Whatever”, she continues, crossing her arms in front of her chest, and the anger is still there, and Edwin understands it now, deserves it. “I went to see him every day at that warehouse after he had just sat down and accepted his fate and every day I expected him to just not be there anymore. That’s how much he loves you, I thought he was going to disappear just because you had, too. He loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone.”

“Crystal…”

“If you hurt him, I’m going to make you regret you were ever born”, she finishes, and Edwin believes her without reservations, “and the only reason I won’t kill you a second time is because I know it would kill Charles, too.”

It’s not easy to get Crystal to tell him where David is, but Charles manages anyway.

The roller-skating rink is dark and dirty, the concrete floor too close to the one in the warehouse for Charles not to shiver when seeing it for the first time. But it doesn’t matter, isn’t allowed to matter, because crouched in the corner is a human figure with shaggy hair and a too-large fur coat, and Charles wants to rip him apart for Crystal, wants to beg him to help for Edwin.

“Oi!”, he yells out and David scatters in a way that reminds Charles of a bug of some kind. “You remember me, yeah?”

“What do you want?”, David spits back, pressed against the wall and trying to look like he wouldn’t flee if Charles gave him an opportunity to do so. “Haven’t you ruined enough?”

“Didn’t ruin a thing”, Charles replies, but there’s no fire to it, because in the end, as much as he hates it, he needs the bastard’s help. “I need you to send me to Hell.”

If he wasn’t so desperate, if there wasn’t a constant loop of torture behind his eyes whenever he blinked, showing him thousands of ways that Edwin could be torn apart this second, he would try to find a better, a more subtle way of putting it, but there is, and Charles has long since stopped caring.

He hasn’t seen Edwin in more than three weeks and if his best friend in the world, the one person who never deserved to go to Hell, spent three weeks there because Charles was too stupid to put the pieces together, he will never forgive himself for it.

“What?”, David asks, and Charles has no time for this, for any of it.

“Hell. I need you to send me to Hell, because my friend might be there and I need to find him”, he repeats, and it takes a moment, but then David laughs, an ugly, rough sound.

“You want to go to Hell”, he repeats, like Charles hasn’t said so twice already. “Voluntarily.”

“Yes.” Charles closes his eyes for a second, wishing that the deep breaths he used to ask Edwin to take would still have the same effects on him as they did when he was still alive. “You don’t need to understand it, you just have to send me there. I’ll sell you my soul or whatever it is you do, I don’t care. I just need to get to Hell as quickly as possible.”

David still looks like he wants to laugh, but this time, he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a step forward, raising his hands as if he was trying to placate Charles, a smile on his lips that Charles wants to knock off.

“Alright, alright”, he says, and Charles hates him and hates the Cat King and hates himself for letting it come to this. But it will be worth it, anything would be worth it if it brought Edwin back. He’ll figure out what to do about his own soul later. “I’ll get you to Hell, absolutely. But it sounds like you’re desperate, so I might need a bit more than just your soul to make it happen.”

“No.” He thinks of Crystal and Niko and Jenny, all safe, all oblivious, hopes they’ll forgive him. “You’ll get my soul, and that’s it.”

David pretends to think about it, but Charles has dealt with enough demons to know he will accept; they are greedy creatures after all, and a soul is a soul is a soul.

“Okay”, he says at last, and still, Charles feels relief wash through him. Just hold on a little bit longer, Edwin. I’m coming. “I’ll take your soul. And I’ll send you to Hell. But I’ll choose the Circle.”

“Sure, whatever”, Charles replies and the smirk that David gives him should scare him, but he’s far past scaring. “I’ll find him no matter what.”

Crystal’s words echo in Edwin’s head when they return to the agency and Edwin slots back into the spot next to Charles, their fingers intertwining naturally.

He knows Charles loves him, of course he does. Has known it for thirty years and has it carved so deeply, so prominently into his heart that he’ll never forget it, yet something about Crystal’s words makes that knowledge scream in his chest when Charles looks at him, a little bit of his usual brightness returning to his eyes as soon as they touch.

It’s not frightening, that knowledge, but it’s not comforting either.

It’s just there, beating in his chest like a heart might, asking if Edwin feels the same.

And without a moment’s hesitation, Edwin answers.

Yes.

“Oh, you fucking won’t”, rings out Crystal’s voice just before Charles’ hand touches David’s, and for a moment, Charles hates her.

Then someone grips his shoulder and flings him backwards, and Crystal is standing there, breathing heavily, a cleaver in her hand, and for another moment, Charles loves her.

“You won’t fucking touch him”, she hisses, and David laughs, the sound just as rough, just as ugly.

“He came here by himself”, he tells her, grinning still. “He asked me to take his soul. He begged me to do it.”

“Well, the offer has been rescinded. And you better go wherever the fuck you came from, before I send you back there myself.”

“Crystal, I need him to-”, Charles starts, desperate, but he never gets to finish the sentence, because Crystal turns her head to look at him, and her eyes are blazing like fire, before they go white.

“No one needs him for anything”, she tells him and her voice is distant and emotionless and powerful, echoing in the empty space like it is made of a hundred women speaking.

And Crystal reaches out and puts a hand on the centre of David’s chest.

For a moment, nothing happens, then he is being flung back against the wall with an invisible force, kept there suspended.

“You won’t touch him again”, Crystal says and the other voices still echo within hers, leaving Charles breathless and awed and despondent. “And you won’t touch me either. Otherwise I’ll bury you so deep you’ll be begging me to send you back to Hell instead.”

And she lets him go; when she turns back to Charles, there’s a small pouch in her hand.

“Crystal said you almost sold your soul to a demon”, Edwin starts the next time Charles allows him a question.

Everything Crystal had told him has stuck with him, but this he had only realised much later, and it had scared him like hardly anything else had before.

Charles just nods, this time doesn’t even try for a smile, and Edwin is glad for it; he’s not sure if he could take it.

“I didn’t really think I had a choice”, he adds after a few moments, like it makes it better. “I thought the Cat King might have sold you to some kind of demon and that was why I couldn’t find you anywhere. And the idea of you, stuck down there… I couldn’t take it.”

“But there was no proof, there can’t even have been any indication that…”

“No, there wasn’t”, Charles replies and this time, he does smile, and the sight is as torturous as Edwin knew it was going to be. “But I had to make sure. No version of you getting dragged to Hell where I don’t come and get you, is there?”

His fingers, adorned with less band-aids than there were before, squeeze Edwin’s and for a moment, they almost feel warm, real.

And Edwin blinks back tears and thinks of Crystal saying, he loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone, and squeezes back.

“How am I supposed to get Edwin back now, Crystal?”, Charles sobs, the words coming out drowned in tears and desolation. “What if he’s in Hell and I can’t get him back?”

He’s on the floor of the roller-skating rink, David’s collapsed form just metres away, and Charles should move in case he wakes up again, but he can’t. His limbs are not moving, his thoughts spiralling, because the only thing that counts is that Edwin might be trapped in some kind of torture chamber in the one place Charles cannot reach.

Two familiar hands pull him up and into a hug that Charles cannot reciprocate, shaking too violently with the intensity of his sobs.

“Jesus Christ, Charles”, Crystal mutters into his shoulder, and she sounds shaken, sounds almost in tears. “Have you ever stopped for a second and thought what would happen if Edwin came back and you were in Hell?”

“Now that we’re all back, do you guys want to get back into detecting?”, Crystal asks them, and Charles flinches almost imperceptibly, before forcing a smile onto his pretty lips.

This time, at least, looking at it is a little less painful.

“Yeah, of course”, Charles says, “but maybe not right away. Unless Edwin…”

“No, I think a bit of a break would do us some good”, Edwin tells him before Charles can even finish the sentence. “Maybe once Charles’ hands have healed. We have no reason to rush it, do we?”

And watches as a little bit of light returns to Charles’ eyes.

It’s later, although Charles cannot tell exactly how much.

Crystal had to half-carry him out of the roller-skating rink, where they had both collapsed on the ground, unable or unwilling to move.

With time, Charles’ sobs had dried up, even though it feels like he has an ocean of them still stored inside his chest, lapping at his unbeating heart like waves. But Crystal had been right, he doesn’t know if Edwin is in Hell, just fears it more than anything else in this world.

“Charles?”, Crystal asks into the night air, sounding pensive, drained.

“Yeah?”

“I know you and Edwin are best friends, but that can’t be all that there is to it. Not with how you’ve been in the past weeks. What’s going on?”

It’s not the question he expected, it’s not even one he has ever asked himself before, but there is exhaustion so deep in his bones, paired with despair he didn’t know he could even feel, and Charles knows that Crystal deserves an answer.

So, he looks inside, pictures Edwin, his little smug smile when he wins at Clue and the elegance of his gestures and the way his voice softens when he knows Charles needs reassurance.

He thinks of Edwin, bathed in the light of the morning sun, and illuminated by the stars, thinks of Edwin’s wit and his brilliance and how easily he gets annoyed at period dramas on TV when their costumes aren’t historically accurate. Thinks of Edwin reading him to sleep when he was dying and reading him poetry afterwards when he found out that Charles had never truly liked a poem, and how Edwin’s voice had almost made him cry when he had recited Keats’ Ode to a Nightingale.

Thinks about how when he’s sad, it’s Edwin he wants to talk to, and when he’s happy, it’s the same thing, the same intensity.

Thinks about how no one has ever known him like this, inside and out, with all his flaws and imperfections and silly little quirks, and how Edwin does and still wants to keep him; how Charles knows just as much about him and feels the same.

Thinks about how it’s impossible to imagine a world without him in it, and how Charles never even wants to try doing so.

Thinks of Edwin and how he is the best, the brightest, the most important part of his existence.

“I love him”, he finally answers, and he’s choking on the words because they are true and yet he hasn’t known until a second ago. “Crystal, I love him. I love him so much and I never even got to tell him.”

And he’s crying again, just as hard as before, and Crystal reaches out and holds him until it’s morning again.

“Crystal and I found the vending machine”, Niko tells them the next day when the girls arrive around noon. She’s skipping, obviously excited as she sits down between them, completely ignoring that it means they have to rearrange their intertwined hands. “The one that was haunted. It was so cool, I got an orange soda out of it.”

She’s unpacking her band-aids, although nowadays, Charles doesn’t need many of them anymore, setting them out as a surgeon would their instruments, and no matter how charming Edwin finds her, the reminder that the girls know of the vending machine still makes something in Edwin’s chest clench uncomfortably.

“That’s great”, Charles says and maybe there is a little bit more light in his eyes than there was yesterday. He plucks a band-aid from Niko’s lap and hands it to her. “This one today, please.”

And it really isn’t great at all, but Edwin doesn’t know how to formulate the fact into a sentence that doesn’t sound like complete lunacy.

“And this one”, he says instead, and grabs a random band-aid too, just so he won’t make a fool of himself.

It’s the first time he has participated in the little ritual by his own volition and Niko smiles at him, almost a reward, before taking a look at the plaster he picked.

“That’s nice”, she tells him, and puts it down next to Charles’ choice for later use. “And really fitting. They’re in love in the anime.”

Charles’ hand twitches, but he doesn’t say anything else until Niko is finished.

“There is one more thing”, Crystal tells him as they are walking back to the butcher shop, after she has explained the power of her ancestors she has just discovered to him, or at least tried to. “When I was in David’s mind, I could see… something in the warehouse. Somewhere he thought about escaping to. I think it’s something like a little pocket dimension, if that makes sense. Maybe Edwin is in there.”

That night, Charles gives him another question, and Edwin knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself.

“When did you tell Crystal and Niko about the Case of the Haunted Vending Machine of 2002?”

Charles looks surprised, and Edwin cannot blame him; it is such an inconsequential thing to ask when is so much else Edwin doesn’t know yet, but then his eyes soften a little, and there is a spark in his eyes that Edwin has missed dearly.

“I’m not entirely sure”, he says, and it makes Edwin feel a little better to know that: at least to Charles, it wasn’t an occasion that mattered. “But they asked about you sometime, especially Niko, after she could see me. About why I wanted to find you so badly, about how our life was like before we came to Port Townsend. And I thought the easiest thing was to just tell them about cases. And you were brilliant in the vending machine one.”

He smiles and for the first time since he got back, Edwin doesn’t have to suppress a flinch; it almost looks like the smile he is used to.

“So were you”, Edwin replies without thinking, and means it, too. His fingers tighten a little around Charles’ and he could swear he can feel skin against skin, flesh against flesh.

“We were pretty brilliant together.”

“We were”, Edwin replies and wants to pull Charles closer, wants to never let him go again, “And we still are.”

This time, Crystal doesn’t even try to stop him.

Charles walks into the warehouse, cricket bat in hand, vowing then and there that he won’t leave until he has found this pocket dimension, no matter what or where it is.

He starts with whatever is left of the furniture, smashing it to pieces and ripping those apart until they’re nothing more than splinters. The palettes strewn about are next, nails flying as Charles pulls the boards apart and leaves them scattered on the ground.

Then, the walls, tearing down the panelling, until the metal is bare and covered in dents and scratches and holes where his bat bust through the rust. He rips out the light fixtures and grinds them to dust under his loafers, shreds the nets hanging between the beams and leaves their tattered remains wherever he happens to be standing.

Finally, the floor itself, because if he has to dig down to Hell with his nails and teeth, he will.

The concrete cracks under the barrage of hits he rains down onto it, magic putting more force into the blows than his spectral muscles could, until the ground looks like a meteor hit.

It turns out to be too much for his bat, which splinters just like the palettes, the pillars, the concrete did, so Charles throws it away and uses his hands instead, shovelling away gravel and debris and chipped wood, digging deep into the ground until it, and Edwin, are the only things he can still think about.

Somewhere in between, his hands start bleeding, his nails cracking and ripping down to the flesh, but Charles pays them no mind, even as pain radiates up his arms with every punch, every blow, every cut.

It feels like the scratch of a cat’s claw, just a hundredfold, and it hurts, but it doesn’t matter.

Nothing does.

“Why is this so important to you? All the questions, I mean. I know Crystal told you the gist of what happened during that time”, Charles asks after he has answered another one of Edwin’s queries. He looks relaxed, his head pillowed on Edwin’s lap, and when he looks up at him, Edwin knows he could count the lashes around his deep, dark eyes.

They’re less dull nowadays, but still don’t hold that one spark that Edwin misses the most of all.

“It’s silly”, he confesses, not because he wants to, but because Charles has shared so much with him that he deserves to have at least one question of his own answered truthfully. “It’s just that for decades, all of your memories were mine as well. And those six weeks… I wish I could change them, I wish you didn’t have to endure them, I wish I could take all of it away, so please, don’t think that this matters more to me than that.”

He takes a deep breath, something that he had forgotten about in Hell, something that Charles had showed him once more after they had met, something that now will always be Charles to him.

“Suddenly, there are six weeks in the middle of your existence, and I wasn’t part of a second of them. And I hate that, much more than I should.”

For a few, long moments, there is no answer, just Charles’ eyes on him, just his fingers brushing across Edwin’s knuckles.

“Edwin, you were there for every second of it”, Charles finally answers, and his eyes are still not as bright as they used to be, but they’re bright anyway. “You were at the heart of everything. I missed you in every single moment.”

His hands are bruised and bloody, some of his nails missing, the others torn down until they are little more than gaping wounds, as Charles tears another piece of concrete from the floor.

He has looked everywhere and Edwin isn’t here and it is a constant refrain in his head; he’s not here he’s not here he’s not here.

Occasionally, there’s tears mixing with the blood, but Charles doesn’t pay them any mind either.

On the third day, Crystal finds him, covered in dust and grime and blood and splinter of what might be wood or bone or whatever is left of his ruined heart.

She breathes out his name and it’s a sob; when he looks up at her, it takes a second until he recognises her.

“You can’t continue like this”, she says, and there are tears in his eyes, on her cheeks, dripping down her chin. “Edwin wouldn’t want you to torture yourself like this and I can’t watch it any longer. It’s been almost a month, Charles, you won’t find him like this.”

It takes a moment or two until he finds the words, remembers how to speak, and when he does, he knows he’s crying, too.

“But what else is there left I can do?”, he asks, and Crystal chokes on her tears, before she reaches out and pulls him into a hug.

“I don’t know, Charles. I wish I did.”

“Your hands are almost fine again”, Edwin remarks and lifts the one he is holding up to inspect it. There are just two band-aids left, one around his ring finger, one on the back of Charles’ hand, green and yellow respectively.

“I know”, Charles answers, lifting the other one, a single frog-themed plaster around his thumb. “It’s a miracle, innit?”

And Edwin looks at him, his almost-perfect smile, the slope of his nose and the dark brown of his eyes; he loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone, Crystal says in his mind.

“Yes”, he replies, “it really is.”

“Come with me”, Crystal pleads, trying to pull him up from where he is sitting on the ground, between broken pieces of concrete and wood.

“I can’t”, Charles says, and knows it is true. His limbs won’t move, his body refusing Crystal’s attempt to lift him up; he won’t leave without Edwin at his side.

“You have to”, Crystal replies, and Charles wishes he could reach up and brush the tears from her cheeks. “You can’t stay here. Not like this.”

“You don’t understand, Crystal”, he says, and maybe he is crying, maybe he has forgotten how to do even that. “I can’t leave. If he isn’t here, then nothing matters. I cannot pass on, because there’s no Heaven if Edwin’s not in it. And I could stop existing, maybe, but if I do and he comes back, then he’ll be alone. So, if I can’t find him, if I can’t bring him back, then I’ll just… stay. And I’ll wait. Forever if I have to.”

Even though Charles, who used to flit between places like breathing, seems most content inside the agency these days, Edwin drags him up to the roof, because the weather is lovely and Edwin wants to see the sun on Charles’ skin, reflected in his eyes.

He seems different today, distracted, but he gives Edwin a small, almost-right smile when they sit down on the ledge, looking down over the city.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to ask a question today”, Charles says after a few seconds, but he sounds far away, almost distracted. “I know you like them. It’s just. There is one thing that I don’t think you how to ask about and that you should know. So I was trying to figure out how to tell you.”

Something about his words makes Edwin’s metaphorical heart beat faster, makes him look at Charles and notice everything at once: the way he clenches his jaw, the slight furrow of his brows, how his tongue darts out to wet lips that don’t get dry any longer.

He looks nervous, and Edwin hates it, because there is nothing Charles could say that would make Edwin care for him any less.

“You can tell me anything, Charles.”

“I know”, Charles replies and gives Edwin the smallest of smiles. “That’s what makes this so hard.”

For a long time, there is nothing, then Charles shakes his head slightly, a tick Edwin knows so intimately it almost pains him.

“You see”, he starts, “when you were gone, I found something out about myself. About you, too. I’m not sure if I would have otherwise, at least not now. And I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t, and now that you’re back it’s suddenly so difficult, because you’re here and I know it won’t change anything, not between us, but it will change something for me, anyway.”

He lifts their joined hands, the single band-aid stark against his skin, and smiles; for a moment, Edwin forgets that he doesn’t understand what Charles is talking about, because there is something so fond, so sweet, so devastating about the look in his eyes.

“I love you”, he says, and Edwin’s metaphorical heart stops, speeds up, swells until it is straining against his ribs, “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m in love with you, Edwin. And I thought I might never be able to tell you, so I’m doing it now.”

And he looks over at Edwin and for the first time since he had launched himself into his side in that godforsaken warehouse, Charles smiles at him and it’s the smile Edwin missed the entire time, every bit of sunlight in the universe bundled into his eyes, into the curve of his lips.

“You don’t have to feel the same. I don’t expect you to”, Charles says, and his voice is trembling, but he sounds happy nonetheless, sounds content. “I just needed you to know that you’re loved in every way there is.”

A beat, a second, another one, and Edwin looks at Charles and it’s like he is seeing him for the very first time, at the same time like he has never seen anything else in his entire existence.

He loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone, Crystal’s words echo in his mind, and she was right all along, and Edwin…

“I love you, too”, he says without thinking about it, because he doesn’t have to, he has known this for years, decades, maybe forever.

“I know”, Charles replies and he’s still smiling; he’s so beautiful Edwin wants to break down and thank the fates that he was sacrificed, that he was dragged to Hell and escaped it, that he is allowed to be here, holding hands with the best, the most important, the most beautiful boy in the world.

“No, Charles. I’m in love with you.”

And another beat, another second, and Charles’ eyes go wide, the sun behind them goes supernova, and Edwin can’t believe he ever looked at him and didn’t know he wanted to kiss those lips.

“Oh”, Charles breathes out and he sounds overwhelmed, sounds almost bashful. “That’s… that’s brills, innit?”

“Yes. It is.”

There is a pause, because something shifts between them; it doesn’t change, because it was always there, even without them knowing, so instead, it blossoms and blooms and grows into something so delicate, so resilient, so beautiful that Edwin finds himself smiling, almost laughing, almost crying.

“Can you just kiss me, please?”, he asks, love and happiness and devotion woven into every syllable.

And Charles nods, eyes brighter than Edwin has ever seen them before, and there is a second of hesitation, but then he leans in and kisses Edwin, and this time, there’s no mistaking it; there’s lips pressed against his, warm and soft and sweet, and Edwin can feel them just as if he was alive.

“I love you”, he whispers against Charles lips, and Charles laughs, before pressing closer still, kissing him again and again until Edwin’s head is swimming with it, his lips wet and swollen and his cheeks wet with the happiest tears he has ever cried.

“I love you”, Charles whispers back, and he’s smiling.

And he kisses him again.

[crowpickingss]

monty x male reader

The reader is edwins brother and he comes looking for edwin but falls in love with monty

Love at First Sight

monty x male! edwins brother reader

summary: you go looking for your brother but instead find love

warnings: none

a/n: tysm for the request! love me a good wholesome monty fic

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

When you first arrived you immediately started searching. You walked along the beach and in the library. You walked through the neighbourhood for hours just looking for a glimpse of something supernatural. You saw a boy and two girls walking into a butchers shop. You thought about it hard but followed them in.

You approached the two girls and the guy. “Uh hi I’m looking for my brother, his name is Edwin” The girl with bleached hair looked at you and then grabbed your hand “Come with me” She dragged you upstairs and you two were soon accompanied by the others.

“My names Nico, that is Crystal oh and that’s Monty” You looked at Crystal first and then smiled at Monty “You’re here for Edwin?” You nodded “I’m his brother, I have never heard of him but I’ve overheard my parents bring him up.

She squealed a then called out for Edwin and Charles. Moments later Edwin and Charles appeared. You stood by Monty when your supposed brother appeared “Hi Edwin, uh I’m your brother” You laugh nervously to see Edwin smiling “I knew that, I’ve been watching for a while” You tilted your head in confusion “Watching?” He chuckled “Yes, I’m surprised it took us this long to meet”

Monty shuffled on his feet getting slightly impatient “I’d hate to break up this moment but uh, I really need to go” Everyone smiled and waved as he left. As he exited the butcher shop he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Esther had told him the plan it was simple she had turned him human for Edwin so why was he suddenly so interested in you.

When he returned home Esther was happy to see him “Monty darling, how’s the plan going” She was filing her nails over the kitchen sink “There might be a slight roadblock” She snapped the file in half “Edwin has a brother, and he’s here” She sighed and brung her hand to her head “Focus on the plan Monty, I made you look good for a reason it was to lure the ghost not his brother”He pouted but nodded in agreement. That night he dreamed of you.

The next day he found you Edwin and Nico outside of the library “Monty, Hey” he waved back at you “What are you doing at the library” You handed him the book you were holding “It’s for a case, or at least that’s what Edwin told me” You both laughed and he handed your book back.

He pulled you too the side away from Edwin and Nico “Would you want to maybe get coffee this afternoon” You smiled “Sure, I love coffee” Edwin cleared his throat “Monty if your done with my brother, I do require him” He nodded and let you go.

That afternoon he waited outside of the coffee shop for you. When you arrived he smiled and walked over “You came” You smiled “You asked” The two of you sat down and ordered your drinks “So Monty can I ask you a question” He nodded “This might be a bit formal but, Edwin has a crush on you and I know it might be weird dating a ghost but you two would be really cute together”

He was a bit taken aback by your formal ask “oh yeah for sure, but to be honest I think I have a crush on someone else” You pout but eventually respect his decision “Well whoever they are, I hope they know that they are blessed” You chuckled and he did too “Well the I hope you know you’re blessed” You took a sip of coffee “Are you confessing your love for me Monty” He played with the sleeves on his jacket “Yeah uh sorry” You laughed “No need to be sorry, I want you too”

He grabbed your hand “But you just met me?” You smiled “I guess you could call it love at first sight”

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

[rebelmeg]

Rebelmeg's TSB Mark VII Masterpost

I GOT MYSELF A BLACKOUT FOR THIS ROUND OF THE @tonystarkbingo!!!

S1 - Would You Rather...? | Gen | Iron Family | fanfic

While Tony recovers, Morgan keeps him entertained.

S2 - Tea and Sympathy and Seeing Too Much | Gen | Peggy Carter & Phil Coulson, referenced Pepperony and Ana/Edwin | fanfic

In which awkward SHIELD agents have tea and deal with seeing too much PDA.

S3 - Rebelmeg Drabbles - Chapter 31: Stunned into Stillness | Gen | Iron Family | fanfic drabble

Tony holds his daughter for the first time.

S4 - Not Yet: Chapter 12 | Teen | Tony Stark & Death, Tony & Harley Keener | fanfic

Taking his arc reactor out is always a bad idea, but Tony doesn't think twice this time.

S5 - Laugh Lines | Gen | Pepperony & Iron Family | fanfic

Pepper has spent years watching the subtle (and sometimes unsubtle) ways Tony's face has changed. This one is probably her favorite.

T1 - Wingmen and Airmen, Flirting and Flying - Chapter 1: Two Drink Limit (Limits Were Made To Be Tested) | Teen | Carol/Rhodey, Tony/Maria Rambeau | fanfic

Tony and Rhodey are having a night out before an important Air Force/Stark Industries presentation in the morning. As it so happens, so are Maria and Carol… Except they know who they're talking to, while the boys have no idea that the ladies they're talking to tonight will be the same ones making their jaws drop tomorrow. Rhodey lays down the law, Tony scoffs at the very idea, Carol is considering hijinks, and Maria is up for the challenge.

T2 - Not Yet: Chapter 14 | Teen | Tony Stark & Death | fanfic

The time Tony didn't die.

T3 - Not Yet: Chapter 8 | Teen | Tony Stark & Death | fanfic

Finding out about the palladium poisoning, and trying to fix it, turns out just as well as you could expect.

T4 - I Want You Back | Gen | Pepperony | fanfic

Pepper asked for the separation when Tony couldn't let go of Iron Man. Then, when she got what she asked for, she realized just how much she was giving up. And found a way to own up to her own shortcomings, and meet the love of her life halfway.

T5 - On and Off the Record | Teen | Pepperony | fanfic

Pepper is a broadcast journalist. Tony is a big-time CEO. When their chemistry makes them friends at first sight, it's really only a matter of time until they finally turn into something more.

A1 - Hot and Bothered and Gone on You | Teen | Pepperony | fanfic

A few weeks into Pepperony’s new relationship, Pepper’s heat comes early. And they haven’t talked about it yet.

A2 - Gingerbread, Cocoa, and Coffee | Gen | Tony & Bucky | fanfic

Tony tries to pull one over on Bucky, who is (unsurprisingly) not fooled. Also, there's a real big gingerbread house.

A3 - Tony's New Cars | Gen | Pepperony | fanfic

Tony seems to have replaced all his cars. Pepper finds out why.

A4 - Not Yet: Chapter 5 | Teen | Tony Stark & Death, Tony & Rhodey | fanfic

Tony faces a very unhappy new year.

A5 - Wingmen and Airmen, Flirting and Flying - Chapter 2: Darts and Tequila and Pairing Up | Teen | Carol/Rhodey, Tony/Maria Rambeau | fanfic

Rhodey braces himself to make his move, Tony makes his, and last call comes as a surprise to everyone.

R1 - Optically Deficient Is The New Sexy | Teen | Pepperony | fanfic

Tony ponders the positive effect Pepper's reading glasses have had on his life. In bed.

R2 - Not Yet: Chapter 9 | Teen | Tony Stark & Death, Tony & his Bots | fanfic

Getting out of his banged up suit after his disastrous birthday party isn't going very well.

R3 - Not Yet: Chapter 1 | Teen | Tony Stark & Death, Tony & Maria Stark | fanfic

Tony's life begins with Death.

R4 - Not Yet: Chapter 7 | Teen | Tony Stark & Death | fanfic

In Afghanistan, Tony visits Death again. And again, and again, and again.

R5 - Not Yet: Chapter 4 | Teen | Tony Stark & Death, Tony & Rhodey | fanfic

Tony's night in the lab does not go as he planned.

K1 - Bot Shaming - Part 11 | Gen | Tony & Dum-E | social media post

In which Dum-E continues to be a disaster with a fire extinguisher, and Tony continues to be a shocked and appalled Bot Dad.

K2 - Not Yet: Chapter 11 | Teen | Tony Stark & Death, Tony & JARVIS | fanfic

Tony doesn't like being buried alive, suffocating, and drowning all at once. No, he does not.

K3 - Strictly Ornamental | Gen | Pepperony & Iron Family | fanfic

Tony is doing some last-minute (see also: forgotten) gift-wrapping while Pepper tries to keep their baby out of the Christmas tree.

K4 - Wingmen and Airmen, Flirting and Flying - Chapter 3: I'll See Your Hangover, and Raise You Another | Teen | Carol/Rhodey, Tony/Maria Rambeau | fanfic

The boys are having just as miserable a morning as could be expected after their night out, but when they finally do show up at the demonstration, a couple of familiar faces are there to greet them.

K5 - Primal Satisfaction (of the Clothes-Stealing Variety) | Teen | Pepperony | fanfic

Pepper really understands her husband. Both his possessive caveman side, and his nostalgic pack rat side. Rhodey would really rather not hear about it at all.

ADOPTED PROMPT: abuse - Not Yet: Chapter 2 | Teen | Tony Stark & Death, Tony & the Jarvises | fanfic

An act of neglect sends Tony into Death's arms once again.

ADOPTED PROMPT: Next Generation - It's Good To Be Back | Gen | Peter & the Stark Family | fanfic

After the Snap and everyone comes back, Peter visits Tony in the hospital and meets someone he didn't expect.

[superherotiger]

Superherotiger’s Masterlist!

 Hello everyone and welcome to my masterlist! Here you can find all my Irondad stories, Alternate Universes, and other random content in a nice and organised spot! Hope you all have a great day! -Superherotiger

~~~

Ao3 // Ko-fi // Commission information! // Super’s Sketches (art tag) // Tiger Talks (rambling tag) // Anthropros (Original series) //

~~~

FANFIC LINKS BELOW:

Alternate Universes:

Kindred Spirits (Soul Guide AU)

Of War and Starlight (Celestial Irondad AU)

My Enemy, My Destiny (Villain Irondad AU)

Stark Men are Made of Iron (Arc Reactor AU)

Something You Can’t Replace (Estranged Irondad AU)

Dear Fellow Traveller (Outlaw Irondad AU)

My Greatest Creation Is You (Android Spiderson AU)

The Runaway Starks (Teenage Irondad AU)

~~~

Multi-chapter:

Return to Me, The One I Love So Endlessly...: (Tumblr) (Ao3)

James Edwin Stark was born on the 10th of August 2001, and for the first time in his life, Tony Stark cried tears of joy.

All the fears, all the dread that had once consumed his soul washed away with a single look at the baby’s gentle features, so familiar and yet so distinctly unique at the same time. Tony made many promises that day. Promises to love his son, to protect him, to always be there for him.

On the 10th of August 2002, James Edwin Stark was stolen in the middle of the night, and his father’s world came crashing down. Shattered and alone, Tony whispered the same promise he’d made to his son the day that he was born.

…My love for you is endless…

Fourteen years later, hidden away from the world in a forest of pine, Peter Beck would dream of a day he might get to see the towering city of New York. And when a wounded stranger stumbles onto their property a week out from his birthday claiming to be a famous billionaire from New York, his dream might just come true.

...

(Kidnapped BioSon AU for the Friendly Neighbourhood Exchange 2!)

You always get back up (and I’ll catch you when you fall): (Tumblr) (Ao3)

Peter Parker always gets back up. But sometimes, he falls, and it hurts, and he breaks. Thankfully Tony Stark is always there to help pull him back to his feet...

...

(Whumptober 2020 prompts starring Irondad and pain.)

The Strongest Instinct: (Tumblr) (Ao3)

Tilting his head towards the screams of a fresh kill echoing down the street, Tony blasted off in his nanotech suit and weaved through the abandoned cityscape. He didn’t know why he stayed there. His corrupted mind would never given him a chance to find the answer, but he always stayed in the city. Wandered the crumbling boroughs, lingered in places he didn’t remember. As if he was searching for something…

But just as quickly as the thought would occur, it would get washed away again.

Hunger. Hunger. Hunger-

That’s all there ever was…

...

(Alternate timeline to Episode 5 of What If...? starring zombies, Irondad and hurt/comfort)

~~~

Irondad Oneshot Masterlist

~~~

Irondad Drabbles

~~~

Irondad Analysis Masterlist

~~~

Marvel:

A Friendly Chat: (Tumblr)

Thor and Tony talk late one night on the helicarrier and fosters the beginnings of a lifelong friendship. (Drabble)

Woven With Care: (Tumblr) (Ao3)

The passionate ramble was enough to draw a real laugh out of the sorcerer this time, and Peter warmed knowing that he had successfully made Stephen happy for once; a feat Mr Stark had sworn was impossible based off of their own snarky interactions. It was a rewarding sight, Peter had to admit. But even though the conversation moved on and their banter remained as light as the sunshine that splashed across the city, Peter couldn’t stop thinking about the yellow gloves that encased the Sorcerer Supreme’s hands.

It was obvious Stephen took his position as Sorcerer Supreme very seriously. With great power comes great responsibility as Ben would say, and Stephen had maybe the heaviest responsibility of all: protecting the universe. Peter supposed it shouldn’t have been that surprising at all that Stephen would take his uniform just as seriously.

But if the sorcerer insisted on suffering through the heat of summer just for the sake of protecting the world, then the least Peter could do was try and make it a little bit more bearable along the way.

...

Birthday Gift for the lovely Iron-Mum, starring our beloved DoctorDad and SpiderSon!

~~~

[yespolkadotkitty]

I’ll Be by Edwin McCain came on the other day and instantly got me into my Zach feels. Something about it was so him - the mood, the 90s, the flannel. The line “rain falls angry on the tin roof as we lie awake in my bed” in particular sticks with me. If you have time, can I get a little nugget of Zach? Fluff or smut, or fluff with a wee kernel or smut? I love your writing.

Right so as discussed you didn’t ask for a multichapter fic but as I’ve got 4 chapters so far  LET’S DO THIS

So many shoutouts for this so here goes:

THANKYOU @kindablackenedsuperhero for this STUNNING BANNER.

THANKYOU @thestrawberry-thief for US library advice

THANKYOU @heatherbel for the beta and UK library advice

THANKYOU @knittingqueen13 for the encouragement

THANKYOU @pedropascallion  for the library clerk advice!

THANKYOU @disgruntledspacedad and @alienprincesspoop for screaming with me about this fic.

Chapter One

Warnings: Scenes of assault, attempted sexual assault  ~ Words: 1380

Pairing: Zach Wellison x OFC Martha Song

Walk with your keys in your hand and keep a key between each finger.

Watch your shadows and reflections - a split second’s notice is better than none.

If they take you and put you in the trunk, kick out the headlights.

These are all things girls are taught from a young age. Things I knew, almost unconsciously. Things that were smart.

But did knowing these things stop me from taking a shortcut through the park after the sun had set?

No, they did not.

I had my hand in my pocket, around the keys. I did not have headphones on - needed to hear if someone was approaching.

Usually, I did all the safe things at night. Walked in the road if it was appropriate, so someone would have to come out from the pavements and buildings to grab me. Stuck to well lit areas.

But, well, I was tired, and hungry for the Chinese takeout leftovers in my fridge, could already taste the sticky pork ribs in my mind, and I took the lazy, unsafe shortcut.

I’m sure the media would have blamed me for what happened next.

I heard them before I saw them. I turned slightly. Two guys, one wearing a beanie, another with his hood up.

It wasn’t even seven pm, but in January the sun set earlier, and darkness had descended, filling up all the corners that daylight usually illuminated.

I quickened my pace. I’m sure they’re just coming off shift.

“Hey, babe,” one of them called.

I glanced around. No one else in the vicinity, and the park spread flat enough for me to see. A single streetlight ahead beckoned and I headed for it, the bag of books from work on my back slowing me down.

I thought about ditching it, but: books. I value books more than anything. I couldn’t sacrifice them even for my own benefit.

“Not gonna stop and talk?” the other one called.

They’re just cat-callers, nothing to worry about.

It was just shy of seven in the evening - where the fuck was everyone? LA should have been busy, was always bustling, but I had somehow chosen the one time where this section of the popular park was empty.

“Come on baby, spare a little sugar?” the first one called. Their steps got closer. The second one was snickering and I felt the little mouse of fear skitter down my spine.

I clenched my keys tighter. Shouldn’t have taken the shortcut.

The streetlight got closer, and I watched it, saw the first guy’s shadow with a hair’s breadth of notice. I spun as he reached me, the keys poking out between my fingers, but I was scared and all my punch did was piss him off.

“Pretty girl,” he half wheezed as he grabbed for me. “Don’t pretend you don’t want it.”

I struggled. Under the streetlamp I caught a glimpse of the first guy’s face, straggly mousy brown beard, cold eyes. The pit of my stomach fell.

“Let me.” Guy two was at my back, hands on my waist. He smelled of alcohol and something like old food, and bile rose up in my throat. “Loosen up, baby, we only wanna make you feel good.”

I tried to shout, but the noise died on my tongue. Fear had clutched itself around my body and the muscles weren’t responding. My keys fell from my fist.

Help, I thought. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as the first guy slid his hand down my body.

No, no, no.

Then suddenly a rush of adrenaline hit my veins - come on, what would Katniss Everdeen do? - and I shoved my knee up into guy one’s groin. Not as hard as I wanted to, but he cried out, a litany of swear words falling from his lips. I kicked out, but guy two was stronger, and had an arm around my throat before I could move.

“Come on now. Don’t be like that,” he cajoled, his sour breath licking at my cheek.

By then guy one had recovered, his face caught in a snarl, white skin pasty under the streetlight. I felt like I was in a sort of backwards ballet, a dystopian dance where there was no way I could make the right moves.

“Hey, assholes.”

The new voice, deep, with a bit of Texas drawl, made me turn. 

A man, mostly in shadow, a large duffel bag by his feet, wielded what looked like a big section of industrial metal pipe.

Guy two huffed out a laugh. “Oh look, it’s the little soldier boy and he brought a new toy with him.”

“Let her go, man,” the stranger called out, taking a step closer.

Guy one had recovered from my knee to his dick. “Or you’ll do what?” He grabbed for me again, but he was distracted by my would-be rescuer, so I took the opportunity to knee him again, but this time, like I meant it, like my life depended on it.

He buckled, and the release meant I could drive my elbow back into guy two’s kidneys. He was stronger, through, and he tightened his arm around my throat. I grabbed for his wrist, scrabbling, barely noticing the stranger moving out of my sight.

“Duck!” He yelled, and I summoned all my strength to yank my head down.

In a moment, a loud thunk confirmed my suspicions, the sound of metal on flesh and bone, and guy two toppled like a tree.

Breathless, I turned to scoop up my keys, and stared at my knight in - dirty jeans. He was panting, his arms still holding the pipe up.

“You okay?” he asked, and I saw him clearly under the streetlamp, the glow picking out the gold in his brown-sugar hair. A patchy beard, more stubble than anything, hugged his well defined jaw. His eyes were soft, kind, the deep brown of hot cocoa.

“I am thanks to you.”

Below him, guy one writhed on the floor and, feeling too angry to think, I stomped on the part of him closest to me, his hand.

He cried out and I couldn’t have cared less.

“You wanna call the cops?” the stranger asked, but his tone was wary. As if I might have been just as likely to call the law about him as the attackers.

I thought it over. I’d likely be raked over the coals for having the audacity to walk alone at night (as if anytime after sundown could be counted as night) and my attackers would get a wrist slap. If that.

“Nah.” But I stomped on guy one’s wrist again for good measure.

He whined.

“C’mon,” Brown Eyes said. “I’ll walk you to the edge of the park.” He set the pipe on his shoulder and crossed over to the waiting duffle bag. It was the size of his torso. I took in his weathered, unshaven appearance, and wondered if the canvas fabric contained his every worldly possession.

I checked behind me, but the stranger was quick to reassure. “They won’t be back for a couple days.”

“You’ve… seen them before?”

He ducked his head, and in the glow from a nearby streetlamp I saw a faint flush of rose on his cheeks. “I’m... here a lot.”

He’s homeless. But of course I didn’t say it out loud.

We reached the edge of the park. People milled about, some queueing outside a deli popular for its pizza sold by the cheesy, greasy slice.

I didn’t miss the way the stranger’s head jerked up towards the scent of pizza.

How long since he’d eaten?

“Want some pizza?” I asked.

Something unreadable passed over his face. “I’m not a charity case.”

“Oh, but I am?”

His head whipped around. “What?”

“Did you come to my defence just now because you felt sorry for me? Oh look, there’s a woman of colour being attacked, gosh I feel sorry for her-”

“No, of course not, what the-” then he huffed out a laugh. “Touchė.”

“It’s just pizza. And a thank-you. I’m Martha.” I held out a hand.

He looked down at my outstretched palm for a second, as if surprised that I wanted to touch him. Then he shook my hand, his own large, warm, callused. “Zach.”

***********

Tagging: @thegreenkid @reluctantlyresponsibleadult @littlemissthistle @havenforafrazzledmind @myheart-pedro @john-in-the-sky-with-paul @idreamofboobear @rae-gar-targaryen @miulola @abuttoncalledsmalls @buttercup-bee @strangelittlenobody @qseomilk @jazzelsaur @songsformonkeys @mourningbirds1 @pajamasecrets @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @skdubbs @nelba @badassbaker @nelba @f0rever15elf @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @mylittlelonelyappreciation @theravenreads @filthybookworm @aeryntheofficial @toomanystoriessolittletime @lannister-slings-and-arrows (Zach Pit) and @absurdthirst might like this <3

please ask to be added or released from the tags!!

[sdottkrames]

Welcome Home My Boy (Welcome Home My Son)

✍🏼By: me, @sdottkrames

🎁For: @skeeter-110 for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

⭐️Rating: general audiences

💜Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker, Tony Stark/Pepper Potts

Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Pepper Potts, May Parker (au where she’s not Peter’s aunt)

Summary: Tony Stark’s life is missing something. Peter Parker is an orphan who wants a family. And Pepper Potts comes up with an idea that brings them together

Read on AO3: Here

“Do you have a family?”

“Yes. And I will see them when I leave here. You Stark?”

Tony’s mind flashed first to Pepper. Then Obadiah, Rhodey, Happy. But the memories exploded with the car crash that had killed his parents and faded along with the life in the eyes of Edwin Jarvis. He had no family. He’d kept it that way, distancing himself with booze and sunglasses and a falsely confident persona, all to protect himself from being hurt even more when he inevitably lost them, too.

“No.”

 Ho Yinsen had changed Tony’s life in more ways than one, but perhaps the greatest change had been through that admittance he’d been forced to give. 

Ever since that whispered “no,” there had been something stirring in Tony’s chest. He’d squashed it down vehemently when a black Tetris puzzle crawled across his chest and neck like some evil game. When he’d been freed of that, he’d found a little family in his best friend and his (now) girlfriend who hadn’t let themselves be pushed too far away by his fears and insecurities. 

Then his family had unexpectedly and, at first, unwelcomingly, grown. But soon the five other superheroes had forced their way into his heart and home. He rearranged the tower to house the new avengers, and found himself participating in weekly team training exercises and helping Steve Rogers of all people cook for team dinners. Game nights and movie nights and pool parties became part of the norm and Tony found himself slowly working through the anxiety and fear that carrying a nuke through a wormhole and falling almost to his death left in its wake.

 His life had never been more full of family. But something was still missing.

Then he’d had the dream.

***

Pepper was pregnant. 

She came to him with tears in her eyes, excitement and joy warring with worry and fear on her face, and showed him the positive test. 

“Tony,” she whispered, and he found himself speechless. The joy he felt spread all the way through his chest and stilled his tongue so he answered the only way he knew how: he swept his beautiful wife into his arms, shoulders shaking a little with a joyful sob that broke through.

“You are?” He finally choked out, and saw the fear and worry leave the battlefield of her eyes and she nodded.

“We- we gotta get a room together! A crib and, and paint. What color? Grey? You like grey? That’s neutral right? Then it doesn’t matter what they are- boy or girl or even if they decide to say eff off to gender norms.”

Pepper cut him off with an ecstatic kiss, and Tony felt that stirring for something different, something more, settle and dissipate. 

He’d finally found what was missing.

*** 

Tony woke up in tears, mourning something he wanted with every fiber of his heart, but that he feared he would never be good enough for.

He mentioned it to Pepper, and she was the one that came up with the idea.

“Tony, I want you to listen to me, and get this into your head. We’ve both talked about how we aren’t ready for kids, but I need you to know that it isn’t because I don’t think you’ll be a wonderful dad. When we decide to have kids, you will be the best dad those kids could ask for. I believe that with all my heart.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath and letting himself hear her words and believe them.

“What if you volunteered at an orphanage or something?” she said. “Get around kids, fulfil that desire until we both feel ready for a family of our own?”

“That’s not a half bad idea.”

Pepper had left him to his thoughts then. Once he got that look on his face, she knew that he wouldn’t let it go.

Sure enough, Tony found an orphanage in severe disrepair and desperate need of some support. After a few meetings with his teammates to make sure they were okay with little kids coming to the tower for a bit (Natasha and Bruce had thought it sweet, Steve had smiled and got a look in his eye like he was already imagining hanging out with the little ones, and Clint and Rhodey had all agreed enthusiastically) and filing all the paperwork with the best lawyers he could find, he’d gone to the orphanage to offer his help.

May, the sweet but slightly frazzled orphanage caretaker, had burst into tears right there.

“I- I don’t know what to say. I’m speechless,” she said, chuckling through grateful sobs.

“No thanks needed. I’ll take the kiddos off your hands for a couple months while my guys fix this place up. You just tell them exactly how you want it and what you need. We’ll take care of everything.”

Three weeks, several panic attacks, and more trips to Toys “R” Us and Ikea than he wanted to admit to, Tony had one of the lower floors of the tower completely arranged to house seven small children and was preparing to welcome them into his home.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, Tony,” Pepper whispered, hearing his breath hitch as the car he’d sent to pick up the kids pulled in.

“Yeah,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Just fine. Let’s go meet our new roommates.”

***

Peter Parker could not believe his luck. 

When his parents had died in a horrible car crash a year ago and he’d ended up in the orphanage, he’d been labeled as having bad luck. Every little trip they went on, something happened. He’d accidentally let the class snake out at school (May had told him about Harry Potter, and how he'd let a snake out, too, which made Peter feel better). And there was the time that he’d gotten left behind during an outing at Central park, and the time a bird had pooped on his ice cream while he was eating it outside with his best friend Ned, and the time that-

Well, you get the picture.

Joselyn called it “Parker Luck,” but she wasn’t trying to be mean. She just talked even more than Peter did, and tended to say exactly what she thought. She was one of Peter’s best friends at the orphanage, and besides, she wasn’t wrong. Peter did tend to have some not so great things happen to him.

But not today.

Today was the greatest day of his life, because today was the day that all the kids were moving into the Stark Tower. 

Three weeks ago, Tony Stark himself had come to the orphanage. Peter remembered May crying and he hadn’t known why. He’d drawn her a picture to make her happy, but she explained that they were good tears, and had told him and all the kids that they would be leaving for a few months to live at Stark Towers. 

Peter had nearly peed his pants in excitement, and he was quivering with it again as the car pulled up and he could see both Tony Stark and Pepper Potts through the glass door. 

One by one, each kid got out of the car while a small swarm of workers gathered their things to take up for them.

“Hello, everyone,” Pepper greeted them with a smile, and Peter felt his cheeks heat up. Tony was his hero, but he also knew how smart and wonderful Pepper Potts was. 

“Welcome,” Tony said, grinning.

As soon as the man spoke, Peter couldn’t help the way his eyes went wide and his mouth popped open with a gasp. He was everything the boy had imagined, standing confidently in a sharp black suit with those signature sunglasses on his face.

The two adults began to explain the rules of the tower as they took the children on a small tour. They introduced the security guards, explained who to ask for help if they got lost or hurt, where they were allowed to go and what areas were off limits, and how they would be getting to school. Peter didn’t pay too much attention though. He was too excited, taking in the sight of the tower, his hero, and thinking about how cool it was that this would be his home for a little while. He was certain nobody was luckier.

“Mr. Stark?” one of the other boy’s- Mikey- asked when they passed one of the labs they were being shown on their little tour.

“Yes?”

“Where’s your Iron Man suit?”

Tony chuckled. “It’s in my private lab, away from anybody’s hands that aren’t mine. Don’t want anything breaking them.”

“Not the Mark 50,” Peter asked softly before he could stop himself.

“Huh?” Tony’s piercing gaze was turned to him. 

Squirming under the sudden attention, he tugged on his shirt. “W-well, the nanite suit, sir. Unless a person broke the actual nanite robot, the suit could just be reformed.”

“You know about nanites?”

Chocolate curls flying, the boy nodded enthusiastically. He couldn’t help himself once someone got him talking about the things he loved. “Yeah! I did a report on them a month ago. I read all your papers on them, and I even started trying to make my own so that I could-” Blushing furiously under his hero’s appraisal, Peter cut himself off and ducked his head. “Sorry.”

But Tony Stark didn’t look angry. “I’m gonna give you a piece of advice, kid: never apologize for being the smartest in the room.” He winked. “You really read my work on nanotechnology?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m impressed.”

And Peter was grateful that his legs didn’t give out right then. He could hardly believe the compliment. He was dazed for the rest of the tour, soaking the praise in with a huge grin.

Eventually, they arrived at their floor. It was a large one, and after the Battle of New York, it had stood mostly empty. There was a spacious living area and a small kitchen, and then a hallway with three bedrooms and en-suite bathrooms.

“Now, you’re going to have to share,” Tony explained. “We don’t have seven rooms on this floor, but each room has a bed and desk for you.”

“You three girls will share a room while the boys will split up in twos,” Pepper added. She gestured to one of the rooms. “This one’s yours, girls. It’s a little bigger and we’ve put three beds in it. Boys, you can decide which of the other rooms you want and who you want to share it with.”

Joselyn, along with the other two girls Kaylie and Hazel, dragged their suitcases and chatted excitedly as they entered their room.  If it had been possible, Peter would have roomed with Joselyn...or Ned. But those two not being an option, he looked to the boys.

He was the oldest out of all of them. There was the four year old Greyson and the six year old twins Mikey and David. It was fairly obvious that the twins would stick together, so Peter took Grey’s hand.

“Can I be your roommate, buddy?” The little boy nodded enthusiastically. “It looks like the twins took the middle room, so we get this one!”

The boy genius led his new roommate through the door and for the second time that day felt his jaw drop. 

The room was huge, and the beds looked like they were clouds, piled high with pillows Peter was almost certain were the most comfortable things on the planet. Grey seemed equally as overwhelmed, walking over to inspect the bed.

“Can you help me put my clothes away?” he asked, turning to the older boy.

“Sure.”

And slowly they got settled into this new chapter of their lives.

*** 

Tony was about ready to throw something at the wall, which meant that he needed to get out and move around, distract himself from the problem before he actually did break something. It wouldn’t be the first time, but he didn’t want a repeat of the great Potts meltdown of ‘09. 

Sighing, he stood up and stretched, letting a loud yawn out as he did before wandering out of the lab. 

It had been nearly a week with the little kiddos staying at the tower, and Tony had enjoyed having them so far. He even invited them up for dinner and a movie the other day. Most of them had been totally starstruck and it had made him smile. He figured they might provide a decent distraction, so he wandered down to the “baby floor,” as he called it. 

He was delighted when the first face he saw was Peter Parker’s.

The boy was shy, but also unfailingly kind. Tony had seen him take the hand of the smallest boy when the two twin boys ran into their room, making the little one feel welcome and loved; had watched as the kid listened to his friend Joselyn, who tended to ramble, with a patient and kind smile, never seeming annoyed by how verbose she was; and had smiled as the kid let one of the other girls hold his hand during a part in Snow White that scared her.

He was exactly the sort of distraction that Tony needed.

“Hey, Pete. How’re you doing?” he greeted, smiling a little as the boy’s cheeks turned pink and his lips lifted in a small, excited grin when he was called by name.

“G-good, Mr. Stark. How are you?”

“I’m doing good. A little frustrated with a project I’m working on, so I figured I’d take a break and come see you kiddos. How was school? Learn anything good?”

Peter’s eyes lit up as they had the first day the older genius had met the kid and they bonded over nanotechnology. Tony smiled as the chatter about 2nd grade science (they were learning about cells) and math (how was an 8 year old already doing functions?!) swept his frustration right out the door with its soothing familiarity. He didn’t have to figure anything out or meet any deadline. All the kid wanted was someone to listen.

So Tony did, oohing and mmhmming in all the right places, until the kid asked: “So what project were you working on before? Maybe I can help so you’re not so frustrated? can I?”

He’d known how sweet Peter was, but Tony was still taken aback by the kindness. “Well, if you want to-“

“Sure!” The little eager beaver said quickly. “What’s the project?”

Hesitating only for a second, Tony explained how Clint’s explosive arrows weren’t working properly, detonating too soon because of an unstable chemical inside them.

With a few graphs and a little breaking down of some more technical terms, Peter understood the problem.

“Let me think a little bit, okay?”

“Sure, buddy,” Tony chuckled. “However long you need.”

And he let the kid think while he checked some emails and wandered into the kitchen to grab him and his mini genius a granola bar.

He stopped for a moment before joining Peter at the table, his steps halted by the adorable crease in the boy’s brow and the way his tongue poked through his teeth as he drew some diagram.

When Tony finally pulled himself together to sit down against and offer Peter the snack, the kid announced: “I got it!”

Surprised, Tony raised an eyebrow and motioned for Peter to continue.

“What if you use your nanites? You could engineer them in a way that they wouldn’t jostle or affect the catalyst. Clint could control when they fell away, which would cause the explosion to happen.”

He pushed the little picture he’d drawn to illustrate, compete with a stick figure Clint Barton in purple (Hawkeye’s theme color), and Tony let his jaw go slack.

“Kid, honestly, I’m impressed. That’s genius. How in the world did you think of that?”

Peter flushed under the praise, and explained the process to Tony, the latter encouraging him whenever he seemed self conscious about his rambling. 

“You, my friend, are one of the smartest kids I know. Would you like to help me build these arrows?”

Peter’s eyes widened to the size of a dinner plate. “What?”

Tony chucked. “They’re your idea, kiddo. It’s only right that you should help me make them. I’ll handle all the explosive parts, but I think you should help engineer the nanites.”

“I would love to!” The boy choked out.

“Great. After school tomorrow, come to my lab. Jarvis will know where to take you.”

“Okay!”

Tony stayed a little while longer, enjoying talking science with Peter, before being called to other projects. He was grateful for the distraction though, because he couldn’t wait to see the look on the kid’s face when he saw the lab.

And, boy, Peter did not disappoint.

When Jarvis opened the door, Peter’s jaw dropped and he practically flew to one of the Ironman suits. Talking a mile a minute, he inspected every inch of the lab. 

“Oh my gosh, what’s this?! Wait, no way, is that- it is! Mr. Stark this is amazing! And woah look at that!”

Tony just chuckled at the kid’s enthusiasm, and pulled his attention to the reason for their working together after a few more minutes’ exploration. 

The two spent hours in the lab together. Tony hadn't ever thought he would enjoy sharing his lab with anybody, let alone an 8-year-old child, but Peter was different. He found himself wanting Peter to come help him more often.

This is only temporary. A cynical voice inside him said.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be. Maybe I can give him a real internship and a real job? Said the more hopeful part of his brain.

A seven year old with a job. Yeah, that’s a great idea.

Tony shook his head to clear off the thoughts. He would enjoy the lab time he did get with this kid that had somehow wormed into his iron heart. He’d just have to baby proof the lab first.

***

Peter fought back the tears, trying hard not to let Flash’s taunting get to him. He kept walking, ignoring his classmate’s teasing behind his back as he nearly ran out the front door.

“Hi, Mr. Happy,” he greeted, trying to keep the sniffling out of his voice. The man Mr. Stark had assigned to drive him to and from school didn’t like little kids. (At least, Peter thought he didn’t. He wasn’t mean, but he seemed to grunt and growl more than use really words.)

“Hey,” Happy grunted, as was his usual greeting, and Peter didn’t notice the concern in the man’s eyes when he didn’t answer right away as he blinked back tears. 

The drive to the tower was quiet except for the occasional snuffle from Peter, who was trying to his sadness. He hated when Flash was mean, especially about his parents. He missed his parents and his Aunt and Uncle. It was right of Flash to bring them up, but there wasn’t much Peter could do about it.

When he came into the tower, he was surprised to see Mr. Stark there, waiting for him in the living room. Usually the man had him come straight to the lab, but they hadn’t been scheduled to work together that day.

“Hey, kid,” Tony greeted.

“H-hi. Are we having a Lab day today?” Peter tried to keep the hope out of his voice. Tinkering around the lab with his hero was exactly what he needed to cheer him up. 

“I was thinking we might spend some time in the lab, yeah. If you’re up for it?”

“Yeah, i'd love a lab day, sir!” Peter said, smiling his first genuine smile since Flash had said the word “orphan” at lunch.

“Yeah? Let’s go, young padawan.” 

Peter gave a small smile at the Star Wars reference. Mr. Stark wouldn’t have known that reference if Peter hadn’t rambled about the franchise one of their last Lab days, which then led to the man insisting they watch the movies together so Peter could “make sure he understood what was happening.” He was pleased Tony seemed to have enjoyed the endeavor! The pleasant feeling followed him as they went to the lab and began working on the housing unit for the nanites in Clint’s arrows.

Tony, however, kept a watchful eye on his little friend.

Happy had texted saying that something was off with the kid, and while Tony had no experience with children prior to the last few weeks, he did have experience with being a genius and an orphan. He figured tinkering would be a good distraction, and he’d wager he was correct after seeing the look of relief and excitement on Peter’s face when he was invited to the lab.

It wasn’t until they had the housing unit almost complete that Tony decided to actually broach the subject.

Though working with his hands seemed to have stemmed the tears Happy reported seeing in the car, the boy was definitely off. He sniffled more than once, and didn’t seem as talkative or enthusiastic as he normally did. There wasn’t a single excited ramble about his friends Ned or Jocelyn, or whatever the last thing they learned in science was.

“So, Peter. How was your day. You haven’t said much.”

Tony didn’t miss the tears that misted the boys eyes slightly 

“It was fine,” he said, turning back to his project with a barely concealed sniffle.

Tony felt slightly awkward and unsure. He’d never had a conversation like this with a little kid before. Heck, he was barely getting to the point of speaking openly to his girlfriend and best friend about some things. But if he wanted to someday have kids, he figured he’d need to start getting used to stuff like this. With a deep breath, he took the plunge.

“Buddy, if you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s okay. But, uh, if you do want to talk about whatever is bothering you, you can. I mean, I’m all ears or whatever. I can blast or make fun of or drown in ice cream nearly any problem you have.”

Peter hesitantly turned towards him. “I-it’s really nothing. I’m f-fine.”

“I’m real sure, kid,” Tony said, raising an eyebrow. “Seriously, is everything okay?” The hesitation in the boy’s eyes warred with the desire to tell what had happened. “C’mon. Out with it! The sooner I know who or what I need to blast, make fun of, or drown in ice cream, the better we’ll both feel.”

“W-well It’s this kid n-named Flash.” Peter began twisting his shirt into knots as he finally gave in. “He was just making fun of me for not having parents and he just b-bothered me more today, I guess.”

Tony’s heart squeezed in sympathy. He had plenty experience of his own being an orphan and dealing with bullies.

“Since I can’t blast a kid with my repulsars, although he maybe deserves it for being such a jerk,” he finally answered, “and I don’t feel right making fun of him, either, I’m going to settle with drowning it in ice cream. I know a great place just up the street, whaddya say?”

There was a small smile, which Tony saw as an absolute win, and then a shy nod, and Tony whisked the boy away for ice cream.

“Ya know, kid, none of what this Flash kid says is true,” he said as he licked his mint chip cone. “You’re not unlovable, or unworthy of parents. You didn’t do anything wrong the day they died. You couldn’t have been a better son. Trust me. All those things are utter nonsense.”

Peter stared at him dumbfounded. “H-how did you know?” He whispered.

“I’m an orphan too, ya know. I lost my parents many years ago, but I definitely know a little of what you’re feeling and dealing with.”

“Really?”

“I promise.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Anytime, kid. Anytime,” Tony said. “Now, are you drowning enough in ice cream? Do you need more chocolate sauce? You look like you need more chocolate sauce.”

Peter giggled, and Tony couldn’t help the slow smile that stole across his face as he went to go get more chocolate sauce, determined to keep that little boy smiling as long as possible.

***

“Um, can you find it in an aquarium?”

The science genius duo was enjoying their usual time in the lab and Tony had begun a session of “I’m thinking of an animal.” His animal was a hippo, which he’d felt fairly confident about until this last question.

“I don’t know, kiddo, I’ve never been to an aquarium!”

Dropping his jaw and his screwdriver, Peter spluttered out an incredulous, “what?”

“I’ve never been to an aquarium.” Tony shrugged.

“Oh, man. You don’t know what your missing, Mr. Stark! There’s fish and turtles and sometimes even hippos and alligators. My favorite are the turtles.” Peter's Big brown eyes widened and Tony grinned in anticipation of the child-like excitement that was sure to follow in whatever story the kid was going to tell next. “One time, there was this huge sea turtle and it came and swam next to the glass right where I was sitting for literally five minutes. My mom took tons of pictures. It was so cool!”

Tony chuckled. “That sounds really cool, bud.”

“It was! Did you know that some turtles only lay eggs every four years?”

They continued working and sharing weird animal facts and Tony was again startled by the desire to make this little kid smile. 

“Jarvis, buddy, can you look up the nearest aquarium?” He asked when Peter had left to go to bed.

“That would be the New York Aquarium.”

“Does it have turtles?”

“It does.”

“Hippos?”

“No, sir. But the Philadelphia Aquarium does.”

“Get two tickets to the New York one for this Saturday. And clear my schedule for that day.”

“With pleasure, sir.”

A few days later, Tony was nearly bouncing with excitement as he waited for Jarvis to bring Peter up to the penthouse for them to go to the aquarium.

“Mr. Stark, is everything okay?” The boy asked as he exited the elevator.

“Yeah, kiddo. Everything’s just fine. We’re going on a little field trip, though.”

“We are?” Peter’s eyes lit up. “Where to?”

“That’s a surprise!” Peter’s grin widened to match Tony’s. “My schedule’s all clear. You good to go?”

With a floppy-haired nod, they were off. 

The little boy had no clue where they were going, and Tony indulged 20 questions, but by the time they arrived, Peter was no closer to figuring it out.

“Wait...an aquarium?” He gasped when he got out and took in the building.

“They don’t have hippos or alligators, but they just got a couple turtles. I figured after hearing about how wonderful aquariums are, I should try and go to one, and I thought you could show me around.”

Peter didn’t hesitate one moment, unabashedly grabbing Tony’s hand and pulling him into the aquarium. They presented their tickets and the younger genius continued to drag the older genius around from exhibit to exhibit with huge smiles on both their faces. Like Peter, Tony’s favorite part were the turtles. The way they gravefully swam through the water and their kind faces made him feel peaceful and warm and fuzzy. And Peter’s little hand in his while he spouted off lots of facts about turtles made him feel even more so.

But the kids were leaving within the next couple weeks, and those pesky thoughts were back, marring the joy a little. Tony dutifully beat them back, aided by the peaceful feeling of being with Peter and the kid’s head modded off onto his shoulder on the way back to the tower.

***

Peter had nightmares more than he wanted to admit. 

They woke him up shaking with his heart beating so fast and hard he could hear it in his ears. The worst part about them, though, was how they would linger, seared into his eyelids. Scary images of his parents and aunt and uncle as their plane went down in flames replayed themselves over and over. 

Sniffling back tears, Peter decided to quietly sneak out of the room. He didn’t want to wake his little roommate.

“Hello, Peter,” Jarvis greeted, making him jump even though he knew the AI well. (Tony had even started helping Peter code his own when the boy showed interest.)

“H-Hey, Jarvis.”

“It is quite late for you to be up. Or early, depending how you look at it. Are you well?”

“Just can’t sleep. I’m heading for a snack, that’s all.”

“I think I have something that might help, if you’ll follow me, sir.”

The AI lit up a pathway and Peter shrugged before following it. He thought Jarvis would lead him to the kitchen, but instead he found himself staring at a door that definitely wasn’t for a kitchen. He’d never been to this part of the tower.

“Uh, where am I?”

“You’re outside Mr. Stark’s bedroom.”

His stomach flipped like a monkey after a banana, and Peter stumbled backwards. 

“Jarvis,” he hissed. “I can’t wake Iron Man up! Why’d you take me here. I thought you were bringing me to the kitchen for a snack!”

“I did not say that I was, only that I had something I thought would help.”

“No, I’m not going in there. I’ll find the kitchen myself,” he said, backing away as quickly as he could. 

But it was too late. 

A light flicked on and before Peter could turn around, the door opened to reveal a sweatpants-clad Tony Stark.

“Peter? What’s going on?”

“I’m so sorry Mr. Stark.” Peter’s voice was shaking and tear were burning his eyes. He’d gotten closer to the man the last month and a half they’d been together, but this was beyond embarrassing. He couldn’t ask Iron man to help him with his nightmares. “I couldn’t sleep and thought Jarvis was leading me to a kitchen for a snack.”

“No worries kid. C’mon. I’ll make you something to eat.”

“Y-You really don’t have to do that, Mr. Stark. I’m okay, I swear.”

Tony rolled his eyes, ruffling Peter’s curls and throwing an arm around the kid’s shoulders to lead him down the hallway. “It’s not a problem, buddy. I don’t mind cooking.”

So Peter was lead to the kitchen, and he was surprised how much better he was feeling not being alone. This was the second time Mr. Stark had saved him from being alone like this, and it felt really nice. He would miss it when he went back to living at the orphanage in a few weeks when the renovations were done. Sometimes, he would imagine what it would be like if Mr. Stark was his real dad, or adopted him, but he knew that would never happen. He usually tried to stop those daydreams fast.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. That looks really good,” Peter said, breaking out of his thoughts to take the toast with butter and jelly that he was offered.

It was quiet as Peter ate, Tony sitting next to him in companionable silence. Once the plate was empty, the bolder genius spoke up. “Again, kiddo, you do not need to explain, but if you want to talk about what’s got you up at nearly 2 in the morning, I’m all ears.”

Peter felt tears well up in his eyes. He had done so well not crying in front of his hero and he didn’t want to start now. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists to keep the tears from falling, but he was grateful to talk to someone.

“Um, I keep having dreams about- about my parents. The, uh, the day they went on the plane that crashed? And they just make me sad.” He shrugged. “S-Sometimes it’s hard to go back to sleep after I have one.”

“I have dreams like that, too,” Tony whispered.

Just like when the man had practically read his mind, saying exactly what Peter had needed to hear when Flash made fun of him the last week, a shock went up Peter’s spine. “Really?”

Tony sighed. “Yeah, I do. I lost my parents, too. Car accident. I also have dreams about being stuck in Afghanistan, in that cave, or in the wormhole. They’regetting better, though.”

“That must be really scary, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, patting the man’s arms.

“Heh. I’m supposed to be the one comforting you, kiddo.”

“Well, we all need comfort sometimes.”

“Thank you, buddy. How are you feeling?”

Peter looked up shyly. “Better. Thanks for the food.”

“No problem. Wanna watch something? That usually helps me fall back asleep.”

“Okay!”

They chose Iron Giant, and Peter felt so comfortable as Tony threw a blanket over him and pulled him under his arm. Slowly, his eyes drifted closed.

Tony watched as the little boy fell asleep, his heart melting and wrapping around his finger even more. After a few minutes to make sure the tyke would stay asleep if moved, he slipped his arms around the little body and carried him up to bed.

As he closed the door and saw Peter’s chocolate curls poking over the blanket, his tears prickled with tears at the realization he would lose this in a couple days.

Shut up he vehemently told that pesky little voice, and went back to bed, but didn’t get much sleep.

*** 

There were tears in everyone’s eyes, but Tony was going to blame it on May, who greeted him with tears of gratitude. All the kids gave her hugs before running off to explore the new building, chatting excitedly as they ran to the new beds and play area.

“Mr. Stark-“

“Tony, please, May.”

She smiled. “Tony. Seriously, though, I cannot thank you enough. You have no idea how much this means to us. How much this means to me.”

See, this is why he was blaming May for the misty eyes. “Not a problem. The pleasure was all mine. It’s a special group of kiddos you got there.”

“They really are. And thanks to your help, the orphanage got some media attention, and now I’ve got people interested in the twins and a couple of the girls! I hope they all find good homes.”

“That’s amazing, May!” Tony said, and he meant it. Every single one of the kids had found a way into his heart, but none more than Peter. And the thought of that little boy going to another home caused another round of tears to come, though he quickly blinked them away.

“Mr. Stark!” As if called by Tony’s thoughts, Peter came bounding up, throwing a hug around the man’s waist. “This is amazing. Not as amazing as the tower, obviously, but this is a close second. Thank you so much!”

Tony hugged the boy back and assured him that he was happy to help, all the while trying to pretend his heart wasn’t breaking.

***

“Tony, this is ridiculous,” Pepper said, marching into his lab after the fourth day in a row of him being there. 

“What is, dear?” He asked, deflecting as usual.

Pepper raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her crisp blue suit. Even under her scrutinous glare, Tony had to admit she was gorgeous.

“You know what, dear. Peter’s gone and you’re back to moping in the lab.”

Acid curled his stomach, and he had to look away. “Well, what do you want me to do. Yeah, I miss the kid, and I’m trying to work through it. Just...just give me few more days.”

“You won’t survive another few days, Tony. You’re not invincible, you know.” She came over and ran a comforting hand through his hair, and his eyes closed of their own accord, trying to hide the tears. “Tony, what if...what if we adopt Peter?”

His eyes shot open. “What?”

“What if we adopt Peter?” She repeated. “You clearly love him, and I’ve watched him with you. He loves you, too. And I...I don’t know him as well as you do, but he’s so sweet and it’s impossible not to love him.”

“You’re serious?”

Pepper smiled. “100%. Tony, you’re ready. We’re ready. Let’s start a family.”

And just like in his dream, Tony couldn’t say or anything except pick his girlfriend up and spin her around.

“Thank you,” he said, tears in his eyes again. “I love you.”

***

Peter loved the new orphanage. He really did. The beds were as comfortable as the tower’s, and there were lots of cool toys and a new playground.

But Mr. Stark wasn’t there.

Peter tried to deny how much he missed him. How much he missed his own dad and how Mr. Stark helped fill that void a little with lab days and movie nights. He’d even helped Peter when Flash was mean and he’d had a nightmare.

And he missed him.

It also didn’t help that Jocelyn and Greyson got adopted, and the twins might be as well. People had been buzzing at the orphanage ever since the renovations. The media had run a few stories on how the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist had taken in the group of orphans and funded the renovations of the building. People had been coming ever since, but none of them really connected with Peter.

He hated to admit it, but he compared all of them to Mr. Stark, and none of the fit. Besides, they all wanted the younger kids.

“Peter!” May called, interrupting his moping. “Come here, sweetie.”

“Coming, May!” 

He jumped off the swing set, running towards the orphanage, but screeched to a halt as he saw a familiar face. Two familiar faces.

“M-Mr. S-Stark? Mrs. Potts?” He stammered out. “W-what’re you doing here?”

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony greeted. He looked nervous- a hand running over his carefully defined goatee, feet shifting back and forth, fingers clasped with Pepper’s.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, buddy, everything’s fine. We, uh, we were wondering if,” he hesitated and Pepper squeezed his hand. “We would like to adopt you, Peter. If that’s something you’d be interested in?”

Shocked, Peter couldn’t say anything, which was a rare thing for him. Or so his parents used to say.

“Really?” He finally choked out.

“Yeah, sweetie,” pepper said, smiling kindly. Peter was surprised. He’d gotten close with Tony, but not as much with her.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Tony grinned at him. “Well, say yes, buddy! We got a room all ready for you and a team of the best lawyers to make it official if you want.”

“Yes!” Peter said, throwing himself into their arms. “Yes, I want to!”

Again, everybody was crying (happy tears) and once all the paperwork was filled out, Tony took Peter’s hand.

“Let’s go home,” he said, his heart at peace finally, the nagging sensation of something missing finally filled by the little boy who was now his little boy.

“Home,” Peter repeated, smiling. His new favorite word.

[the-hidden-writer]

I’ll Remember You This Way

Chapter 1: 2,857 words Read on AO3! (check reblog for link)

The story of one unsuspecting man named Edwin Jarvis and how his life and legacy are carried throughout the universe.

Edwin Jarvis -> JARVIS -> Vision

Snippets of that legacy include Tony Stark carrying his butler's words in his heart for his entire life and Wanda Maximoff sensing an unfamiliar presence in Vision's mind.

Chapter 1 : sun is shining in the sky 

There’s something quite unnerving about the night sky.

The chill of the night is brisk, and he knows that, logically, he should head inside to avoid catching a cold (and consequently facing his wife’s wrath)... but he can’t find it in himself to move.

Edwin has been intrigued by the stars as of late. His employer tells him to, as Mr Stark so eloquently put, “get his head out of the clouds and focus on Earth's problems”. And, once again, this should logically make Edwin lose interest and obey. Deep down, however, he knows there is more. So much more. But it probably won’t be discovered in his lifetime.

Ms Carter has told him of her missions working alongside Captain Rogers, and their discovery of the mysterious glowing cube that had fallen into the hands of Hydra which was most likely of extraterrestrial origin. Edwin felt it was quite the honour for her to trust him enough to tell him (what he thought were) rather classified details- that was actually what prompted him to impulsively ask her what exactly she thought of him. Ms Carter had not hesitated in labelling him as her best friend.

She had then burst into quite an uncharacteristic bout of laughter at the expense of his own embarrassment, and at the time Edwin had felt very much like they were school children giggling over a fellow classmate’s mishaps.

Who could have predicted that it would become quite an accurate description when a rather scandalous newspaper article was released the following day regarding the rumour of an affair between the esteemed Agent Carter and Howard Stark’s butler. For the benefit of both Mr Carter’s reputation and his and Ana’s own privacy, the pair had decided to keep their friendship as "their little secret” and maintain formalities when in public. But even with that and Mr Stark himself publicly denying any truth behind the rumour, it still took a few weeks for it to dispel.

Ana had teased the two of them for many more weeks after that.

As for the cube itself, there is something Edwin finds very strange about it. Mr Stark had been studying it relentlessly since it fell into his hands. Edwin had assisted as per usual and nothing was out of the ordinary, sans perhaps the secret behind its origins and abilities.

No, the strangeness began when Mr Stark asked him to continue studying it alone after Edwin had forced him to rest after over 24 hours of working in the lab. Howard had only agreed to do so if Edwin (who had the sense to stay well-rested) continued to work on it. So he did just that.

Mere moments after Mr Stark had left, Edwin felt himself being... drawn towards the enigmatic object. It was an extremely odd sensation. Though he knows it is impossible, it was almost like it was… beckoning him. Beckoning to come closer. To touch it. To hold it.

To break it.

Now Edwin had the sense to ignore whatever otherworldly temptations the cube was attempting to inflict on him and had simply continued to work as instructed. Yet despite that bizarre event, the thing that unsettled him the most was when Mr Stark denied having ever experienced such a feeling apart from the natural curiosity of an inventor to learn more.

They have worked on the cube many times since then, and every time Edwin would sense that strange calling only when he was alone. He’d worried at first that it was some form of hypnosis but Ana had assured him that he hadn’t changed in the slightest.

However he now found himself enthralled by the night sky, and what unquestionably lies beyond it.

Planets, stars, galaxies, life. The infinite possibilities of space.

And he is just one insignificant man within it all.

“Edwin?”

He is pulled out of his thoughts by Ana calling him from behind. Her face is stern but her eyes are concerned as she approaches him, wrapping her soft burgundy shawl tighter around her shoulders. Edwin immediately feels guilty for causing her to venture outside in such cold weather.

“You need to come inside now, dear. The stars will still be here tomorrow.”

He shoots her an apologetic smile and his heart melts at the way her pink lips part slightly as she lets out the smallest of laughs. She was probably waiting for him to come to bed as evidenced by the fact that her divine red hair is loose and flowing behind her in the wind.

It truly amazes him how beautiful his wife looks even in the most unflattering of situations.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he truly means it, “I was lost in my thoughts.”

Ana tilts her head up towards the sky. “I know they are beautiful, but surely your wife is too?” she teases, and Edwin finds heat rushing into his cheeks.

Smiling, she untangles one arm from within her shawl and offers it to him, but the second his hand touches hers she lets out a small gasp.

“Your skin is freezing!” She exclaims. “Buta emberem, come inside before you catch a cold.”

He wordlessly allows her to usher him inside as she mumbles in her own tongue about how her husband puts others too far before himself.

Ana was right. Ana was always right. She was more beautiful than any star could ever dream of being and he was well aware that he was blessed to be her husband and to have her in his life.

And yet… that night he still found himself dreaming of the stars.

~-.-~

“Am I doing the right thing, Jarvis?”

Howard’s words startle him just as he is about to leave the workshop.

Confused, he turns to face his employer. “What do you mean, Sir?”

Howard’s hands clench into fists at his side as he struggles to find the right words. “I don’t know, I just-” he sighs and looks up at Edwin almost desperately. “I climbed up from practically nothing to get here… what if settling down screws all that up? Screws up the company?”

Ah, Edwin understands now. He knew that Maria was different from the second she scolded Mr Stark without hesitation. She is so different from all the other women, and though Edwin knows that she would never use him he can also understand why his friend is worried. He does have a legacy, company and reputation to maintain, and tying the knot with the wrong person could hypothetically ruin all that.

But Edwin trusts Maria, and Maria loves Mr Stark.

“I think,” he begins, uncomfortably aware that Howard is clinging on to his every word, “that you should follow your heart. Maria is a lovely woman and everyone can see that she makes you happy.” He notes how Mr Stark smiles at the thought of his girlfriend. “But I’m not sure if you should be asking me for this sort of advice, Sir.” He adds.

“Are you kidding?” Howard scoffs. “You and Ana have the best thing going that I’ve ever seen. The two of you are so sweet it makes me sick.”

Having perfected the art of not taking offence at Mr Stark’s offhand remarks, Edwin just brushes the comment aside and speaks to his employer slowly and calmly. “If I know you, Sir, that’s not the sort of relationship you’re looking for.”

Howard Stark has been involved with woman after woman, scandal after scandal, leaving his poor butler to deal with the aftermath of each one. So yes, Edwin knows all too well that the man would struggle with the commitment of marriage and the tower of responsibilities that comes with it.

“See, that’s my point!” Howard exclaims, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I don’t know if I can do it!”

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, a small smirk tugs at Edwin’s lips. “Oh, I was under the impression that the great Howard Stark could do anything.”

It was astounding to watch as pompous a man as Howard Stark, with an ego as large as the sun, crumble with insecurity. It was an extremely rare sight to behold and Edwin has the feeling that he is the only person to whom Howard would reveal his inner vulnerabilities.

“You think so?” He asks.

Edwin’s snarky smirk is replaced by a genuine expression of reassurance. “That’s what people say, but I have to say that the man I know personally isn’t perfect. But I also know that Maria makes him whole, and that he needs someone to anchor him before he loses sight of what’s truly important.”

“Steve-”

“Yes, I know Captain Rogers is important,” he interrupts, “but you need to live in the present. He was in the past. I think that Maria could be your future.”

Mr Stark looks up at him for a few moments, presumably allowing his words to sink in. Then all of a sudden his eyes harden with an all-too-familiar determination.

“You’re right!” He cries. “I’m great- I can do this! What’s another challenge to me, right?”

Edwin resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“Follow my heart? Well in that case it’s settled. I’ll propose to her tomorrow!”

“Wh- tomorrow?!” Edwin splutters, his calmness shattering with the shock of the preposterous statement.

Howard snorts and holds his hands up in surrender. “Just messing with you. Sometimes your advice is so good that I gotta make sure you’re not a robot or something.”

Edwin chuckles nervously.

“But seriously,” Mr Stark continues, closing the gap between them, “thanks, Jarvis.” He wraps his arms around Edwin’s torso (it’s an odd, childish position but it’s what suits their height difference the best) and squeezes him in a tight hug. Then his playful voice drops into a smaller, more serious tone. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He then pulls back and both men take a moment to adjust their clothing.

“You’re gonna be my best man, right?”

“Perhaps you should propose to her first before you get ahead of yourself, Sir. Take things slow.” Edwin decides to neglect mentioning how improper it would look for Howard Stark’s butler to act as best man and, as utterly flattered as he is, promises to himself to argue the point at a later date.

Mr Stark proceeds to practically hop back to his worktop to continue tinkering with his latest invention. It is a remote control of some sort and thankfully not that blasted cube. However, Edwin knows him well enough that his mind is elsewhere and is practically swimming with proposal ideas- which he will, eventually, end up asking for his help about too.

He doesn’t mind. Edwin just feels happy to help.

~-.-~

Edwin nearly jumps out of his skin as a slender hand taps him on the shoulder.

“Oh! I’m sorry to startle you, Mr Jarvis. I just… I was wondering if I could pull you aside for a minute. In private.”

Mrs Stark’s eyes are wide and alert, and she looks up at him with an air of emergency she’d never admit to having.

Being the ideal butler, Edwin obviously agrees. “Of course. Where would you like to..?”

“Our bedroom,” she supplies all too quickly, “if that’s alright with you.”

It’s not a question. All Edwin can do is nod politely, set his feather duster down, and follow Maria through the hallway and up the elegant main staircase of Stark manor.

Luckily, they don’t pass any of the staff on the way up. And since Howard was away on another of his business endeavours (which had become more frequent) there was no worry of bumping into him, either. Not that Edwin has any clue why Maria was being so insistent on secrecy.

Still, he would try his best to keep it. For her sake.

Once they had reached the large, extravagantly-decorated room and Edwin had locked the door firmly behind him, Maria let out a long, shaky sigh.

It’s only when Edwin turns to look at her does his worry start to sink in.

Her eyes are tired and her glorious brown hair is ever-so-slightly tousled. She still looks like a model, of course, but the fact that any imperfection is noticeable means that something must be terribly wrong.

“Is everything alright?” Edwin asks quietly once he realises that she won’t speak first.

Maria nods unsurely. “I… I don’t know.” She says, and Edwin can hear the lilt of her original Italian accent clipping her words- an occurrence that happened only when she was very stressed.

Unsure how to prompt her for more information without seeming rude, Edwin smiles comfortingly. “Is there anything I can do for you, Ma’am?”

“Edwin-” the use of his first name surprises him so much that it wipes the smile off his face- “you know Howard well, don’t you?”

Edwin is too busy worrying about where the conversation is heading to consider the question too deeply. “W-Well, yes, I suppose I do.” He stutters. “More than any of the staff, most definitely.”

Maria sighs again and moves to sit down on the bed. Edwin, having no idea if he is welcome to do the same, just stands awkwardly on the spot.

She twists the magnificent ring on her finger as she speaks, not looking Edwin in the eye. “…Do you know whether he wants children?”

“W-Well, I- um, i-if, erm-” Edwin stammers incoherently.

Maria holds up her ringed hand to silence him and finally meets his panicked gaze.

“I am pregnant.”

For a moment, Edwin believes he heard incorrectly. His expression doesn’t change as he waits for Maria to repeat herself. When she doesn’t, and the truth finally settles in, he feels the biggest, most-unprofessional grin slip onto his face.

“Oh Maria,” he says, forgoing all formalities as he quickly moves to sit beside her on the bed, “that’s absolutely wonderful!”

Rather than be offended, she seems to appreciate the use of her first name. She smiles in relief at Edwin’s positive reaction. “I only found out a few hours ago, you’re the first to know.”

“That’s amazing!” Edwin’s smile falters slightly. “Is it..?”

“Yes, it belongs to Howard.” Maria assures. Not that he had any doubt, of course, he simply just had to make sure in case she needed any support.

And, just to be extra sure, he cautiously asks another sensitive question.

“…Are you happy?”

Maria tenses for a moment, her eyes frantically scanning over Edwin’s face for… something. When she presumably does or doesn’t find what she’s looking for, she relaxes again.

“I’m overjoyed,” she says, her voice barely a whisper as she idly rubs her stomach, “but Howard-”

“Don’t worry about Howard.” Edwin cuts off firmly. “He is a grown man who adores you, he won’t run off when he hears- I’ll make sure of that. And though I can’t be certain what his initial reaction will be like, I can be certain that he will be every bit as happy as you are.” He smiles a little sadly. “I can only presume fatherhood does that to you.”

The fear doesn’t leave her eyes. “But how do I-”

“I can tell him, if you’d like, but I think he’d much rather prefer to hear it from you.” He interrupts again, reading her mind. “And I think it would be wise to wait until he returns tomorrow, otherwise he’ll grumble about unfinished work.”

Maria lets out a small, dainty laugh. It doesn’t sound entirely natural which does mean that she’s feeling more like herself. Then they fall into a comfortable silence, Maria twisting her ring absentmindedly as Edwin tries to settle his own giddiness from the wonderful news.

He truly feels ecstatic and over the moon for Mr and Mrs Stark. They are going to have a child! A small part of him can't help but feel jealous that he can never have that for himself.

He hates Whitney Frost with every fibre of his being.

But he and Ana have come to terms with the fact that they won't be able to have children, so instead he tries to channel all of his sadness into joy for his dear friends. Besides, he is sure that Mr Stark will let him babysit the child with Ana on occasion. The pair of them would do it for free without a second thought.

Suddenly, Maria shifts her position on the bed to face him before clasping his hand with hers.

“Thank you, Edwin.”

It is said with such sincerity that the use of his first name doesn’t make him even bat an eye this time. In that moment, it wasn’t a wealthy lady thanking her husband’s butler. No, it was an anxious woman thanking her friend.

“My pleasure.” He replies on instinct when she releases his hand.

“I’m sorry for keeping you.” She adds, and Edwin knows that’s his cue to leave. So, with one final smile of reassurance and glee, he leaves her to her own devices.

It isn’t until late that night, as he lies awake in bed with his wife beside him, that it occurs to him as odd that Mrs Stark told him first.

[moon-riverandme]

And in the Beginning There was... Light, Film Rolls, and Controversy.

Watching old movies has always been one of my favorite pastimes. I love the cracks in the film, the oddly tinted placements of color, the quick, scattered movements of the actors, and the slice of an intertitle. It all just makes sense when I think of those first filmmakers who were trying to make sense of their new medium. In my journey through film, I will start at the beginning. Well, sort of the beginning. Our main topic of discussion takes place in 1903. So we’ve skipped over a few years… 15 to be exact. I’ll sum them up now because if I miss a beat I’ll ruin the scene.

Let's start in October of 1888 when Louis Le Prince has just recorded the very first film. It’s short yet scenic; his family gathers in a garden and for the first time ever - they move. A man walks across the screen, the rigid bustles and day dress of two women sway as they turn away from the camera - ergo we have a moving image years before Edison would invent the kinetoscope. Of course, most don’t know of Le Prince and in school I never heard his name mentioned. In fact, I only heard of him through a Buzzfeed Unsolved video. So what happened? Why did history remember the names Edison and Lumière but not Le Prince?

There were many entries in the race to create the first film. And of course, there are arguments as to what cinema is in comparison to a bunch of still photographs played one after another. Strange, I think is this argument. For film is a series of stills or frames played one right after the other. Nevertheless, in 1878, we have the famous images of a galloping horse caught by twelve cameras set up by Muybridge to capture motion and to study animal locomotion. Motion but not a movie. What we needed was a camera that had a single lens capable of capturing a point of view. That’s what Le Prince did. Unfortunately, as history would see it, he mysteriously disappeared on a train to Paris in September 1890 right before his first public screening in New York carrying luggage that contained all of his work. Neither Le Prince or the luggage has ever been found. Quite the coincidence.

There are a few theories: Le Prince committing suicide, Le Prince’s own brother killing him, Le Prince fleeing due to his sexuality being outed but none have stuck... except one. Le Prince’s widow, Lizzie, believed Edison, his biggest competitor in the race, had him assassinated. The evidence? The discovery of Edison’s journal containing the following entry, which has been proven authentic. It read:

“Eric called me today from Dijon. It has been done. Prince is no more. This is good news but I flinched when he told me. Murder is not my thing. I'm an inventor and my inventions for moving images can now move forward.”

Take of that what you will.

Today, we are taught that Edison’s kinetoscope launched the novel medium of moving pictures into our familiar. When it was invented in 1891 by Edison and Dickson, the kinetoscope was a peepshow-like device with a "sight opening" on top that one viewer at a time could look into and watch a moving picture. Think about it like looking into a microscope - very different from how we view films now both in method and price, it was 50 cents for access to all films at a given venue.

In 1897, an improvement on Edison's device arose. Invented by the Lumière brothers, the cinematograph contained both a camera, projector, and hand crank. Now, audiences could sit and screen films. I'll circle back to Edison as he connects to our 1903 topic. But first, let's take a stop with the Lumière brothers.

Auguste and Louis Lumière are credited as the first filmmakers. Their documentary-esque films Workers Leaving The Lumière Factory and Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat are milestones in cinema. Known as travelogues or actualités, they showed the casual and working life of people in the mid to late 1890's. These shorts were even screened to audiences who jumped out of their seats at a train onscreen because they thought it would actually hit them. The Lumière Brothers took their screening all over the world, from Paris, to India, and China.

Watching these films, it's hard not to put yourself in the shoes of a passerby, a random person whose name we don't know, who exists in a few frames before disappearing to time. Like a fossil, it's interesting to examine what life was like back then. I love seeing the clothing. Everyone is so formal, at least compared to the laid back air of today. Even so, in the 1890’s people were moving away from the Victorian Era and into the “New Woman” Era. High necklines and longer sleeves were replaced by the open neck and short sleeves as morning turned to dusk. High chiffons under feathered hats were popular as was the shirtwaist style for work. All of these visible in the Lumière films.

Where we jump from reportage to fiction is where we jump from Lumière to Porter. And back to Edison, who had Porter working for him. Projectionist and electrician turned director, Edwin S. Porter was the brains behind many of the mechanics and techniques that have become so highly engrained in the making of films that the idea of them being novel seems almost impossible. In 1899, Porter became head of moving picture production at the Edison Manufacturing Company and throughout his career, which spanned about 15 years, he made more than 70 short films. So lets look at a few of them in detail.

Jack and the Beanstalk (1902)

You'll see that a lot of the narrative ideas for these early films spun directly out of fairytales. For an audience, fairytales were a familiarity. Thus, they were able to stitch together what they already knew about the characters and stories and better understand these new moving pictures. And Porter knew this from his work as a projectionist. He knew what engaged the audience most. And that wasn't just story, it was technique. Porter's films were revolutionary for what would become known as editing, at that time just cutting film. Simplistic and impactful, he knew how to compact time and create magic. Objects and people appear and disappear in a single cut. The camera remains still, a wide shot, and on a tripod but what's in front of it changes slightly, making for magical realism. For example, once Jack makes it back down to earth after descending the beanstalk, he grabs an ax and starts chopping it down. He's got to do this or the giant chasing him will make it down too. So he swings the ax a few times with all his might. From a large beanstalk, ripe with leaves, reaching up to the sky, we immediately cut to a destroyed one. The fact that we end one cut with Jack in the same position as we start the next, keeps from disrupting the audience even though everything else onscreen has changed. We've condensed time, Jack has saved the day, and the Giant has fallen to his death. Porter would expand on this editing style, perfecting it, discovering cross-cutting.

Life of an American Fireman (1903)

Cross-cutting or parallel action is so integral to editing that it happens in just about every film. Simply, two separate events are occurring - say, a woman trying to escape a fire inside of her house and firefighters rushing in a horse carriage to save her. These two events, perceived to be happening at the same time, are stitched together through editing so that the audience experiences both. Cut to the woman in her house as the fire inches closer to her. Cut to the firefighters rushing up the stairs. Will they get there? Will they save her? Cross-cutting serves to create tension and set the rhythm of a scene. Eventually, the two spatial points of view merge and the conflict should be resolved. This originates in Porter's films and Life of An American Fireman is the first one that shows it off.

Let's cut back to the first shot of this film, it's a trick shot. A sleepy fireman dreams of a mother putting her daughter to bed. Abruptly, the fire alarm is set off and he wakes up. Instead of cutting from the fireman dozing off in his chair to a separate shot of the mother, which would create confusion on whether the fireman was dreaming, Porter uses double exposure to frame the dream above the fireman shoulder. Double exposure had been employed by photographers since the 1860's to produce dreamy situations in otherwise ordinary places but in film, it first appears in Georges Méliès Four Heads are Better Than One. When we see the house aflame for the first time in Life of an American Fireman, the same mother and daughter from the dream pair reappear. The fireman's premonition connects back to the main drama of the story.

The Great Train Robbery (1903)

In this film we take the leap from a theatrical approach to cinematography, where the camera simply watches the action at a long-shot or observing eye, to being involved in the action. One way that Porter does this is by integrating the pan.

Panning is a technique that moves a camera side to side in a fixed location. We haven't taken the camera off of a tripod or stepped forward in anyway, we are simply turning left or right on the horizontal axis. If we took a step forward and followed a character or action we'd have a tracking shot. But we aren't there yet so plant your feet in the ground for now. Porter uses pans to reveal. The first pan is executed about six minutes into the film. The robbers jump off the caboose with their stolen goods and make a run for it. But where are they going? Queue the pan and we find out it's down some steep hills and into a forest. The subsequent shot is them in the thicket of a forest. Running passed the camera until all but one have exited camera left. But how will they get out? Queue the second pan to reveal horses - their getaway plan. This pan is masterfully done. I love the way Porter keeps his camera static and just observes the tumbling, running robbers until only one is left onscreen. Then and only then does he pan left to reveal the horses. By leaving only one person onscreen, not only does the audience have less to track but so does the camera. Simplifying the frame down to only the necessities of the action, one robber running away in a forest, amplifies the pan and makes the reveal feel complete - we reunite with the group of robbers and horses.

Depending on which version of the film you watch, you might be surprised by waves of color among a sea of black and white. Tinting whole films blue, amber, or sepia has been around since the origins of moving pictures, but in The Great Train Robbery, Porter selects specific actions or objects to tint. This was all done by hand.

Color is one big manipulator. Think of light blue and you'll likely picture endless summer skies; an air of calm. How about Green? I picture the tangled tree webs of a jungle - adventure, growth, the smell of dew on fresh leaves, nature. Now red. Explosions, fire, burst of emotion. Yellow? A bright, morning sun, a blooming sunflower, happiness, positivity, a new start. Early filmmakers used color to bring attention to specific objects, people, and actions. They used it to draw out an emotion from the viewer. They used it to connect themes of violence, love, and happiness. And they used it to spice up their frame.

Porter hand paints the explosion of a train lockbox bright orange and a deep red. The smokey pops from gunshots are also a fiery red. The dress of a dancing woman is bright yellow. The coat of another girl is a rich purple. The addition of color cultivates realism but also gives the film a flair of the imaginary.

So, we have the creative process of tinting to enhance the visual characteristics of a story and we have panning to push forward the important aspects of a narrative. Let's add a few more ingredients to our recipe.

Because the story cuts back and forth between the robbers, the operator, and the posse of men who will eventually hunt down the robbers, it has parallel action. Three separate storylines, integrated through the edit, that coverage at the end. Now that we have the way in which the story is cut and delivered, how about some specific effects?

In shots where the action occurs inside the prop train, which is not moving but the audience is meant to believe it is, Porter uses double exposure to ground his location in reality. He filmed exterior, moving shots and layered them onto the static train shots. In the '30s this would become known as "rear projection".

Additionally, Porter creatively placed his camera in new ways to produce frames that diverged from the typical wide shot; bringing the viewer closer into the action. For example, at about 2 minutes and 50 seconds in, the camera is propped on top of the engine car roof while a sneaking robber crawls passed and kills a fireman.

At last we arrive at the final shot. Diverging from the narrative, Porter set this up to look like a wanted poster. It is filmed in a medium close-up, which serves to focus all attention on the subject by filming them waist-up, having them fill up most of the frame, and blocking out the surrounding environment. The robber points his revolver right at the camera and shoots six times. If you've ever seen Goodfellas, Martin Scorsese recreates this at the end with Joe Pesci. Seemingly, the purpose was to shoot the audience. To tell them even though all of these robbers were killed in the end, their spirit doesn't die. It says "I'm warning you- it's still dangerous out there." Funny enough, this wasn't even the original intention. The shot was promotional and where it ended up in the film was entirely up to the projectionist. It could've just as well been placed at the beginning if they wanted. Even so, the break in the fourth wall and punch of dramatics that ended the film still prevail through cinema history today. Completing the recipe for one the first Westerns, ripe with shootouts, chase sequences, bandits, and suspense.

The Kleptomaniac (1905)

When moving pictures are void of sound and spoken dialogue it's a bit difficult to understand what characters are doing onscreen. Heightened emotional and physicalized acting made up for this. Through facial expressions and over the top, exaggerated body movements, audiences could connect the dots to figure out what was going on in a scene. But in 1903, Porter directed Uncle Tom's Cabin and introduced intertitles, words that would appear printed onscreen. Early iterations of intertitles read like book chapters. They described the main action that was about to take place in the scene. In Uncle Tom's Cabin some examples include: "The Escape of Eliza", "Rescue of Eva", and "Tom and Eva in the Garden. In The Kleptomaniac, intertitles state location and give context to where we are, which is helpful because without them, I don't think I could follow what was going on - at all.

Location is such a main element in this film that intertitles are practically non negotiable. "Leaving Home", "Arriving at the Store", "Home of Thief", and "Court Room Scene", prepare us with the information that is necessary to fully understand the purpose of each scene. The department store shot isn't clear-cut. It could've been a mail room or an office. If we miss that it's a department store that our main character is visiting (and stealing from), we miss the connection to the thief stealing food later on in the film and thus miss the whole theme of class disparities. The intertitles supplement for lack of onscreen information and sound. They would be used regularly in the silent era, branching into dialogue intertitles and expositionary intertitles before dying out with the advent of sound.

[dreamlover31]

Love Will Find a Way: Chapter 8

After six weeks of being placed on bed rest while at the same time, receiving the royal treatment from her soft hearted boyfriend, in which there were daily foot and back rubs, sensuous sponge baths and his long, slender fingers stimulating her inner core; Alexa was given the all clear to return to work. As soon as she walked through the door, she was welcomed by an entourage of all the staff members, as well as the people who sought help there, they all clapped and cheered at the sight of her.

At one point, some of the children came up to her and presented her with drawings they had worked on while she was in the hospital, a smile beamed across her face as she looked at the various works of art. Out of everyone that showed up, the one person she wanted to see the most was Nicole, Alexa found out through Olivia that she tried to visit her in the hospital, but the overwhelming guilt she felt caused her to flee before anyone saw her.

Alexa searched the crowd of people with a hope that she’d come back after everything that had happened, she was about to turn away towards the small table that had a large cake on top of it that read ‘Welcome Back Alexa’ when she heard a small voice:

��Alexa”

As she slowly turned towards the sound, her eyes went wide at the person that stood before her.

“Nicole…”

The two women stared at each other as if they were old friends who had not seen one another in a long time, Alexa stepped forward and placed both of her hands on Nicole’s shoulder, fearing that she might tear off and run away again. Instead, Nicole leapt forward towards Alexa and wrapped her arms around her, Alexa gently soothed her back as she began to cry.

“I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault”

“No it’s not, don’t you ever think that”

“If I hadn’t left him then none of this would have happened”

Alexa slowly released Nicole from her embrace then cupped her face as she looked straight into her eyes and said:

“If you had stayed with that…monster, then you would be dead…listen to me, no one blames you for what happened to me or to Edwin, this is all on him and he can’t hurt you anymore. You’re finally free.”

Nicole nodded as she wiped the tears streaming down her face, then came another round of applause from everyone in the crowd, this time to celebrate Nicole for surviving such a horrific ordeal and to making peace with Alexa. The day of celebration continued with the consumption of the delicious chocolate decadence cake that was Alexa’s favorite and the cool refreshing taste of fruit punch, she watched with joy as the children played various games such as duck, duck, goose and pin the tail on the donkey while the adults danced hilariously badly to one of Katy Perry’s old songs being played on the radio. She was even more thrilled to see Nicole laughing and socializing with the other women, this was the beginning of a new chapter in her life and Alexa was proud to have played a part in it.

As the party was winding down, Alexa could see that the day’s activities were taking its toll on the children, so she suggested that the mothers take them back to their rooms to let them sleep, she watched as one by one the small bodies were being carried off; she would give a small wave to the ones that had their eyes open for a little bit. After most of the people had left, Alexa started to clean up some of the mess that was left behind until she felt a hand on her shoulder, when she looked behind her, she saw that it was Gladys.

“Hey don’t worry about that, I’ve got this”

“No it’s ok, I don’t mind the work”

“Lex, you’re the guest of honor and it’s considered rude to have them clean up afterward”

“Alright…I’ll just head into my office and catch up on some paperwork”

“Honey, you’ve been though a traumatic ordeal. You need some time away from all this, why don’t you and that boyfriend of yours get of town for a while, recharge your batteries and then you can bury yourself in your work”

“Gladys I appreciate your concern, but I’ve spent the last six weeks in bed so I’m ready to get back in the saddle”

“Lex you haven’t taken a vacation in what…four years, it’s time you focused on yourself instead of everyone else”

Alexa paused for a moment as she thought about Gladys’ suggestion, maybe she has a point, I haven’t really been taking care of myself…I’ve been so busy with making sure that everyone else’s needs were taken care of that I really haven’t considered my own.

“Alright, I’ll do it”

“Oh great, I thought I was going to have to deadbolt the locks on every door just to keep you out”

The two women laughed whole heartedly as Alexa pulled out her cell phone from her purse, she scrolled through her list of contacts and found Rafael’s number, she typed away at her keypad as she relayed a text message telling him to come over to her place for dinner tonight; that she had something important to tell him. As soon as the message was sent, she looked up at Gladys who gazed at her with a smirk; Alexa returned with a grin of her own.

“So not that you’ve got me out of here for a while, you have any suggestions as to where I should go on my vacation”

“My cousin has a house on the beach in the Rockaways, she and her husband are out of town visiting relatives so you can stay there and enjoy the scenery”

“And they’re going to be ok with two strangers in their house”

“They know you but it might take a little sweet talking with regards to your boyfriend. Anyway, I’ll call and make the arrangements and I’ll drop the key off at your place when everything’s sorted out”

“Alright, thanks Gladys”

They embraced themselves in a hug as Alexa wrapped up a little to go plate for her and Rafael, she waved good bye to Gladys as she headed out the door. When she arrived back at her apartment, she could see that Rafael wasn’t home yet, she checked her phone earlier but had not received a response to her text. She pulled off her jacket and hung it on the coat rack and then sat her purse on the couch as she made her way towards the bedroom, she quickly changed into a pair of black leggings and a grey shirt as she walked back into the living room where she stretched out on the couch. With the remote in her hand, she began to flip through the channels as she wrapped the blanket that laid across the couch around her, it was then that she heard a beep coming from her purse.

With her phone in hand, she looked at the screen and saw that it was a text from Rafael, in his message he apologized for not getting back to her sooner and that he maybe a couple hours late coming over there. Alexa responded by telling him that it was not a problem for her and that she understood, she also told him that she was going to have dinner ready for him when he got there. After the message was sent, Alexa lifted herself off from the couch and made her way into the kitchen where she took out the necessary tools and ingredients she needed for the meal she was preparing.

Several hours passed after she had sent Rafael that text, she placed his dinner in the microwave and was now back on the couch reading a book, Alexa became deterred from the entrancing storyline by the sound of a key turning the lock to her door. She showed a small smile as she saw the person whom she had been waiting for come strolling through the door, after he put his briefcase by the coat rack, Rafael looked up and winced at Alexa. As he stood in front of her, he gave her a small peck on her forehead and then pressed his against hers.

“How was your day?”

“It was great, everyone at the shelter threw me a welcome back party”

“Oh that was nice of them”

“Yeah I’ll tell you about it, but first you should eat something, I left your dinner in the microwave”

“Thank you”

Rafael kissed her forehead again and then entered the kitchen, after re-heating his meal, he grabbed a dish towel from the counter as well as a fork and a knife then joined Alexa on the couch. Once his plate was cleared with nothing but a few crumbs in its wake, Rafael closed his eyes as he leaned backward on the couch, he felt Alexa snuggle up to him as he let out a soft sigh; the scent of her cherry blossom perfume filled his nostrils while she gently rubbed his belly.

“You worked up quite an appetite huh?”

“Well unfortunately my diet consists of nothing but caffeine”

Alexa lightly giggled as she continued to stroke his midsection and burrowed herself further into him.

“Did you have fun at the party?”

“Yeah it was a blast, the kids there drew me all kinds of pictures…one of them was of me wearing a cape and punching out a bad guy”

Rafael smirked as his thumb gently circled Alexa’s upper left arm.

“But that wasn’t the best part…the best part was seeing Nicole there, she felt so guilty about what happened that she was afraid to visit me in the hospital, she thought that I’d blame her or that everyone else would”

“But it wasn’t her fault”

“I know and that’s what I told her…I’ll tell you Rafi just seeing her smile and laugh and enjoy herself just makes me even more determined to continue my work there”

“I know and that’s what I love about you…so what was it that you wanted to tell me”

“Oh Gladys insisted I take some time off to get my mind right before I officially return to work”

“I think that’s a great idea”

“Yeah I think so too, so she’s going to talk to her cousin and her husband to see if we can use their house in the Rockaways while they’re away, unless you already have other plans”

“I think I can clear my schedule for a weekend getaway with you”

Alexa looked up at Rafael and the two of them shared matching smiles before pressing their lips against each other to signify the level of happiness they shared at the thought of going away together; no court dates, no jilted partners, no worries.

Tagging: @madpanda75 @laceybellerain @tropes-and-tales @teamsladsandgents @thatesqcrush @southern-magnolia @madamsnape921 @karens-imagined-world @beccabarba @itsjustmyfantasyroom @glimmerglittergirl

[naptoons]

Perfectly fake- Nick Mara

Warnings: cursing, alcohol substance, drug substance.

Summary: you found out that your two year relationship was nothing but a facade, your boyfriend cheated on you. Wanting to forget about the pain you went to the prettymuch house, only to find out they’re not home. So you make yourself comfortable whole drowning in your sorrow.

Theme: angst

A/N: this was requested by the lovely @cncogirl18 enjoy!!

Proofread? Yes/no

Opening and closing. Loving and falling out of it. You hated it. It made you think you could never keep a vicarious relationship. Something always goes wrong. Sometimes it’s not even your fault. But it feels like it. Why do you keep getting cheated on? Falling in love felt so despondent, what is the point? Just to get hurt over and over it was tedious. Looking out the window as the sky mirrored your emotions.

Dark, cloudy. Hazy and frenzy.

Your feelings Inane, and being alone isn’t what you wanted, you needed someone to fill that swollen heart. If it was still beating you thought. Estranging yourself from the comfort of your bed, you decided to get comfort from the one man who never failed to embellish your face with a smile.

Nick.

Searching for the extra key they gave you, the memories of that day replay in your head. Nick was smiling from ear to ear handing you the keys.

“Hey, I wanna give you this” his voice smoother than honey

“What is this nick, it better not be one of your kiddy pranks”

“So you admit my pranks get you?” His eyebrow cocks up, rolling your eyes you fold your arms across your chest, only feeding his ego. “Anyways, this is keys to our house, well a spare, so whenever you need to talk to me or wanna hangout, just come bye” his smile spreading slowly showing this sharp marshmallow fangs of his, his nose scrunching up.

“Are you serious?” You rejoinder while grabbing the silver keys out his hands, Nick nods his head, his eyes scoping out every feature in your face. The way he looked at you caused butterflies in your chest. Everyone knew nick was head over shoes for you.

Except you. Because you thought no one could like you. Especially someone like nick.

“Wow, thank you, you know I’ll be over here a lot I’m always having a problem” your tongue turns sour, there was so many things going on in your life that none of the boys knew about.

“Hey, and if that time comes I will always be here for you okay?” His hands grip your arms softly, the pads of his thumb caressing across your skin, slowly burning up by his sudden touch.

“Okay”

Jogging the key in the lock, you let yourself inside, the house was quieter than usual and the house was actually kinda clean. “Edwin must’ve went on a frenzy” you chuckle to yourself, walking towards the living room you bolster yourself on the couch, feet laid up on the coffee table, landing your eyes on the tv. Questioning what they were watching. Or were they high watching it?

“Nick?” You lament, your voice bouncing off the glass and walls, furrowing your brows up your feet lands on the floor, heading towards the rooms, slowly opening his door, the bed was empty. “They’re not home” you muttered, heading towards the kitchen your phone buzzes with spams. All from the person you’d been avoiding.

From satan:

Y/n please stop avoiding me

Read:9:58pm

From Satan:

You gotta know it didn’t mean nothing

Read:9:58pm

From Satan:

it was the liquor talking, I’m very in love with you.

From Satan:

I don’t care how long it takes, I’ll make it up to you.

Read:9:59pm

From Satan:

Please. Y/n i love you

Read:9:59pm

screen locking your phone, you lean against the kitchen island; your tears fighting the urge to fall out, but you being resilient against it. You hate feeling maudlin, for crying over something like this. You shouldn’t be feeling like you’ve done something for him to cheat. Feeling like his vices and liquor was chosen over you. This relationship was toxic and doomed from the beginning. But you’ve never been loved.

So you thought love had to be a painful chase.

Sliding down the kitchen island, your body shakes from the vociferous throat, your knuckles getting sore, from holding onto your jacket, the pain hurts worse than finding out from his friends. Twenty minutes of pulling out the thorns from your chest. You stand up steadily, you blink slowly letting the heavy sigh out from your chest. Your fingers grazing against the cupboard, opening it the sight of alcohol. Caving into your perfunctory thoughts you grab as much as you want.

“Forget this night even happened hm” you mutter to yourself, grabbing your phone you turn it off and leave it on the counter, grabbing a cup and the alcohol you walk towards their backyard, on your way there you also grabbed the blanket.

The goal was to get drunk, become numb. And go to sleep. Leave before they come back you told yourself. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

You needed him. You needed nick.

An hour later, the boys come inside from recording, Nick headed to his room in attempt to get some rest he was to tired to even communicate. Saying goodnight to everyone, he closed his door. Zion notices the door to their backyard is slide back, his eyebrows knitting up in alert.

“Yo, did y’all close the door before we left?” Zion brashly speaks

“Yeah, why?” Brandon follows up, Zion doesn’t answer only slowly stepping towards the door.

“Did someone walk into our house again?” Brandon says nonchalantly

“And you’re calm about this because?” Edwin dryly questions him, Zion peeps his head around the corner to find you laid out on the floor in front of the pool, your hands in the water, swirling around the frigid liquid in a circle.

Zion’s face turns from suspicion to anger, all the broken glass surrounding you and that laid next to your head. he wants to ask you why you think you’re doing, but his brash attitude changes when he hears your whimpers, growing stronger and stronger. “Y/n?!” Zion yelps, seeing how you almost fell in the pool, Brandon and Edwin run outside, Zion looks back holding your wrist so you don’t fall in.

“Go get nick!!” Zion panics, Brandon nods his running back in to grab him.

“No... don’t get him” your voice coming out hoarse

“bullshit, I’m not leaving you by yourself” Zion snaps at you, cutting your sentence short, Nick comes out bending down to your height pushing the hair in front of your face behind your ear. Zion left you two to be alone. Nick looked distraught, he looked anxious.

He heart sinked when Brandon told him what was going on. His mind just went hazy, all he could think about was being by your side. “I’m sorry ...” nick didn’t say anything, he just cradled you in his arms your head on his shoulder soaking in all of cologne while your tears soaked his hoodie. Fingers digging into his fabric. His hand roaming through your hair.

“Shh, I’m right here baby... I’m right here, I got you Babygirl” nick mumbles in an attempt to calm you down. In a way it made you slowly start to sober up, you were way past gone. Having drank so much, your heart still felt empty. It didn’t do anything.

Maybe that’s why you stayed, you stayed for nick to fill that hole.Ten minutes later you guys were still in the same position. Your heart thumping against his chest. Feeling his chest rise and fall against yours. “Nick?” You speak nasally

“Yes mamas?” His voice sounding so euphoric, they were music to your ears. Nicks hand running circles on your back. You slowly blink then close them completely. You let out a giggle. “Love fucking sucks you know that?” You laughs starting to being sporadic. Your throat was slowly starting to close.

“I fucking hate him, he shattered me like I was just a pawn in his chess game, I loved that man” you pause before realizing past tense, you did love him. But for a couple of weeks now. You’ve been feeling butterflies in your core. Just a stubble touch from nick, and you felt like your heart would explode.

“Yeah, I did love him, nick?”

“Talk to me” his voice sounding disappointed

“I’m in love with you” you mumble dragging the tip of your nose against his neck. “I love you so much nick, hate that it took liquor courage and a cheating ex boyfriend me to realize that” you chuckle to yourself a little.

Nicks body tense up in surprise, your confess caught him off guard but also he felt exasperation growing inside of him he knew you had a boyfriend and it ripped him to shreds when you first told him, he loved you so much but couldn’t bear to hold you back so he told you he was happy for you. He didn’t lie he was happy, just not as ecstatic as he wanted. He wish that someone was him. The pain of what your ex boyfriend did to you just fired him up in anger. If he would’ve known he would do this he would’ve stopped you he never knew your relationship was nothing but pain. He wanted to beat him to a pulp right about now, but he needed to be civil minded and be there for you. Oh but how badly he wanted to beat his ass. “Cmon you need rest, you’re tired” Nick states, taking his hand out of your hair he kisses your temple tenderly.

“Cmon mamas, wrap your arms and legs around me” his voice honeyed on your ear, you oblige by his request, as you’re straddling him, you buck your hips against his earning a groan from him. Smirking against his skin your lips press against his skin. The goosebumps spreading throughout his body, his lower lip caught in between his teeth. He latched his fingers underneath your thighs as he walks back to his room. Closing the door with his foot he lays you down.

But you pull him down to hover over you, your fingers fondling with the hair on the nape of his neck, his eyes were dark, you couldn’t figure out what emotion he was feeling. But no only that nick wasn’t ambiguous with his feelings. He would always pass them off in the form of a joke. Pulling him down to meet your lips, the both of you move in sync the taste of alcohol and watermelon chapstick was the aura tonight, or so you thought. Delicately you slide your nails across his stomach down to the hem of his pants, your lips sticking to his neck, but nick grabs your hand.

Pulling away from his neck you look at him in bewilderment, you’re confused, does he not want you anymore? From his sudden noise earlier you figured that’s what he wanted.

“Why?” You mumble

“If I’m going to explore your body, it’ll be when you’re not thinking on liquor courage, and it’ll be when you’re not filled to brim with heartbreak, y/n you’re special, and you deserve to be treated that way, stop selling yourself short okay? You are meant to be loved, yeah you may get hurt sometimes but that’s okay, it all about of the growing process, don’t give up, your special person is closer than you think, and once you find him, treasure him, cause he’ll treasure you ten times more, you deserve love in return for how much you give, save your soul for someone worth it” Nick plants a soft kiss on your forehead, tucking you in.

“Can—can you stay with me please?” Your voice cracked halfway through

“Who said I was leaving?” Nick replies, he throws his arm around your middle, sinking his chin into the dip of your shoulder. His warmth and scent surrounding you. You soon realized that you were never in love with your ex. You now knew what true love was and how it felt.

It felt like crisp apples, fall winds, and spring rains, all the beautiful things nature provided.

Was all in him.

The next morning, you rolled over to the side of the bed you presumed to be nick, but it was just a dead space sink. Frowning your brows you stretch your arms out. Hearing the door open and close, followed by a soft sigh. “Good morning” nick speaks

“Morning” you groan, finally opening your eyes, you see a shirtless nick drinking his signature coffee style. You always judged him on how weird that was. Calling him a “different breed” you slowly sit up looking down at your clothes, you smile at the though of wearing his hoodie.

“Hey Nick?” You ponder

“What’s up love” he sits on the bed looking at you

“I know I said a lot of stuff while I was drunk, but I just wanna tell you just in case I’ll never get the chance to again, I love you nick, so much and it’s not on some rebound shit I really do love you, I have for a while, but I decided to avoid it, afraid I would lose the only person in my life that understands me more than anyone”

“I didn’t want things to get awkward and I didn’t want to be load-sum baggage to you, you have such a great life, I don’t wanna be the dark cloud covering your clear skies” you finish with a soft whimper, Nick cups you’re face with one hand,

“You really are an angel huh? Why don’t you stop carrying the world on your shoulder and let me in huh? They is nothing in this world that can turn me away from you, we were meant to be together wether it’s dating or being friends, were stuck together, everyone has baggage, so what? That doesn’t mean we should run from them, if we can help we help, and I’m always here to help as much as you let me y/n, so stop worrying about what I think”

“Cause you should already know what I think, I’m in love with you, I’ve always been, finally you noticed hm?” He teases leaning into your lips, placing the coffee mug down on the nightstand, his fingertips hook around your waist while you hook your fingers in his hair, slowly feeling yourself fall onto the bed nick hovers over you intertwining the both of y’all fingers together.

“Felt like this happened before” you giggle

“Deja vu hm?” Nick dives into your neck, sending pools in between your legs, things got heated and you didn’t regret it not one bit.

Heading downstairs the guys eyes land on you in completely worry, letting out a smile the breath they’ve been holding for a while escapes, they all come up to you and hug you.

“I was so worried” Edwin mumbles

“I’m sorry to worry you guys, but thank you for stopping me, I love you guys” you giggle, you failed to forget love came in different forms, from different people. Who cares if one person didn’t love you. Doesn’t mean you’re the bad person. Just meant you weren’t their person.

Nick comes downstairs smiling at you as you step away from the guys, “mom and dad are together?!” Zion sarcastically yells, you say nothing but hide your face in nicks chest.

“Dude you know it, she’s wearing his hoodie and everything” Brandon continues

“Y’all took to long in that room, we all know what happened” Zion smirks

Nick throws a newspaper at him hitting Zion directly in the eye, followed by him cursing out nick, nick ignores him and continues to kiss your head. Finally you look up at him, his orbs swimming in star struck, his dream finally came true. And he promise if it ever came true. He wouldn’t let you go.

“You’re beautiful” Nick expresses, moving your hair behind your ear “you make me feel beautiful” you smile

“That’s all I ever wanna do mamas” his toothy grin comes out before he plants his lips on yours.

Finally a relationship that wasn’t perfectly fake.

[hphmmatthewluther]

When Your Reflection Plots Against You: Part 1/3

Matthew Luther sighed, and leant onto a sink in the boy’s toilets. It had not been going well for him today. He loosened his blue and silver tie (he preferred it to the more traditional blue and bronze tie, and was glad to have a choice in the matter) and pushed the hair out of his face. No, today had not gone well. To start, he was nowhere nearer to finding his brother or the next Cursed Vault. Then, he found himself unable to focus on any lessons as a result, and finished the day with a shouting match with Merula Snyde, which led to Snape banning him from Hogsmeade for a week. These arguments usually made him feel a little better, though something was...off about today. Her insults seemed to hurt more, for some reason.

So there he was, looking up and seeing his hair flop in front of his face again in the mirror. Could nothing work for him today? He scowled at his own reflection.

“It isn’t fair. Everyone else seems to get by just fine. But oh no, not me. I bet even Merula does better than me. I have to be the one who struggles along...” He grumbled to himself.

“Hey...keep on stepping, my guy.” came a voice. Matthew scanned the room, hoping to see whoever had spoken.

“Nope, over here, in the mirror, you know?” He looked up, and was slightly surprised to find his own reflection replaced by someone else. He had black-and-white hair and was wearing denim jeans and a red flannel shirt. On his back was a large guitar case, which he put down at his feet.

“What’s shaking, dude?” he asked, in a way Matthew hadn’t heard anyone speak for nearly ten years. He had a smirk on his face that put Matthew off. However, it wasn’t like he had anyone else to talk to.

“Um...did you hear what I was saying?” he asked, looking around to make sure nobody saw him talking to a mirror.

“I caught a bit of it, y’know, this and that...” he said, looking around. “Sounds like you could use some assistance.”

“Well, that would be-” Matthew had to stop himself. “Hang on, who are you even?” he had to ask himself.

The boy in the mirror gave a laugh. “Right, right, sorry. I’m Edwin. Edwin Luther.” he announced, giving himself a small flourish as he did so. “And you?”

“Oh, well, funnily enough my name’s Matthew Luther.”

“Really?” said Edwin, his eyebrow raised. “Maybe we’re related.”

“Doubt it.” Matthew said, looking away. “My Dad was a Muggle, so that probably isn’t it...” 

Edwin sighed, and leant forward on the reflected sink. “So, you need my help. You want to be better around people, right?”

Matthew nodded. It certainly would be nice...sometimes, it seemed like everyone except him knew what to say, and anything he said or did only made things worse, and so often he was left doing very little...but he didn’t completely trust this guy just yet. “Okay, hang on. Before anything else...what’s your story?”

“Me?” asked Edwin, moving back slightly, “I’m trapped in all the mirrors of Hogwarts, y’know? Been here for a while, too. Most people just seem to blow me off, but you...you can see me. There’s something about you, dig?”

Matthew thought about this. One the one hand, he really ought to know by now that not everyone could be trusted. But his thoughts lingered back to his last argument with Merula...if he had done something different, maybe…

“How can you help me?” he asked, leaning closer to the mirror to get a closer look.

“Look, kid. I know people. Just, for now, you go about your day and I’ll give you advice.” Edwin explained. “In return...well, as you may have guessed, I’d like to blow this popsicle stand and return to the land of actual people...but that can come later.” He put his hand towards the mirror, and it appeared as a ghostly image on the other side. “So, we have a deal?”

Matthew looked at the spectral hand, then moved his own hand towards Edwin’s and shook it.

“Far out!” exclaimed Edwin, drawing his hand back. “Let’s boogie!”

“Before we carry on, when were you sealed in that mirror?” Matthew asked, “Cause the stuff you’re saying is...painful to hear.”

Edwin laughed and picked up his guitar case, slinging it onto his back. “Well, I was last out and about in, ooh, 1976, I think.”

Matthew’s eyes widened at this. “Blimey...ten years...okay, now what?”

“Do you have something reflective on you?” Edwin inquired. Matthew fished around in his pockets until he pulled out a silver spoon that he used in potion making. He watched as his warped reflection disintegrated, replaced by an in-proportion Edwin.

“Lovely jubbly, Matt.” began Edwin, moving around his new environment. “Now, what do you really want help with, hm?”

Matthew initially wanted to ask about the Cursed Vaults, but he somehow knew to keep that to himself. Ravenclaws were good at reading people, and there was something about Edwin that made him unsure about divulging information. Instead, he focused on what Edwin already knew.

“Well, I’d really like to do something about that argument with Merula.” Matthew whispered, as he left the toilets and joined the crowds of people in the corridors.

“Hmm...Merula, huh? So there’s a girl involved, I see…” “What? No, nonononono!” Matthew hissed, hoping nobody was paying too close attention to him. “It’s not...she isn’t...we’ve been enemies since our first year, ok?”

“Okay, you’re saying that, but it sounds to me like this bunny-”

“Don’t call her a ‘bunny’, she’d rip you apart for that.” Matthew noted.

“Righto, righto...” Edwin trailed off, “Still, it’s a route you could go for...”

“Trust me, Edwin, it really isn’t.”

They had made their way down to the Dungeons, for their last lesson of the day: Potions with Snape. Matthew was dreading this. He didn’t even have Rowan with him, as he was in Hogsmeade for the day. Then came a moment he was dreading:

“Oi, Luther!”

Matthew spun around and saw Merula Snyde walking up to him. He heard Edwin squeaking from his pocket.

“Wow, man...what did you say to her?”

“Nothing...” Matthew muttered before stepping forward to meet the Slytherin girl.

“Well, well, well. I suppose it’s time for you to make a fool of yourself. Again.” Matthew wanted to say something back, but something was stopping him from fully focusing.

“Why aren’t you at Hogsmeade?” he blurted out. He could hear Edwin sighing.

“Oh, boy...”

“None of your business, Luther!” she shouted, stomping on the ground. Edwin, who had been complaining for a few seconds, suddenly stopped.

“Hey...those are some killer boots...why don’t you talk about them? Change the subject!” he suggested. Matthew had to work very hard to mask his shock at Edwin’s advice.

“No, no, think about it. It sounds like you two talk about what keeps you apart all the time. You need to try different avenues.” Matthew was going to ignore this, but Edwin hadn’t finished. “Come on, dude. You hate each other already. I doubt her opinion of you can get worse. What do you have to lose?”

Merula was getting impatient. “Well? Cat got your tongue, Luther?”

“No, I just...never mind. Sorry for intruding, I guess. But, I...” Matthew sighed. Here we go. “How’d you convince Snape to let you wear combat boots?”

Merula looked at him, the malice in her expression replaced by pure confusion. She took a quick look at her feet, then looked straight back up at Matthew. “I...I...what?”

“Justify the question, mate. Doesn’t have to be anything good...I think her brain’s stopped working.” Edwin ordered, the smirk on his face palpable.

“It’s just...well, Flitwick’s always really on the ball about what we wear with our robes, and I’d imagined Snape would be even more on it, so...”

It was a few seconds before Merula’s brain started working again. “Oh, that...I mean, he’s never really said anything about it...”

“That doesn’t sound like Snape.” Matthew observed.

“Hah, yeah, I suppose not...” Merula pushed a hand through her hand, offering a rare smile. “I mean, if you’d seen the shoes they expect us to wear you’d do the same, if I’m honest!”

“Yeah, the dress code for boys is ever-so-slightly shorter for boys than for girls.” Matthew admitted.

“You can say that again!” exclaimed Merula, laughing at herself slightly, “You’re luckier than you know…” she paused and looked around. Nobody else was there. They had all gone to Hogsmeade, which made sense seeing as it was the first trip for the third-years. The crowd that usually watched their ‘debates’ had vanished. Now they were gone, there didn’t seem to be much point. Matthew sniffed the air. Merula coughed into her elbow.

“Um...where is Snape?” Matthew asked aloud. The two-third years looked around the Dungeons, but the man was nowhere to be seen.

“Do you think we could knock on his office door?” Matthew inquired, moving towards a dark green door that was near the empty potions classroom. However, before he could knock on the door, his arm was pulled back by Merula.

“Wait, you idiot!” she whispered, her eyes darting around the empty room. “I think he’s in there! If you interrupt him, you’ll get in trouble, and I’ll get in trouble, and...”

Matthew wanted to respond, he really did, but he was too focused on the hand that was gripping his arm. Merula must have noticed this, as she suddenly pulled her arm back, clearing her throat with it.

“Not an option, hmm?” Edwin remarked, “You two...compliment her again! Go ahead! Say how nice she looks!”

Matthew had half a mind to chuck that silver spoon out of sight, but before either of them could say anything, a ringing noise emerged from behind Snape’s door, causing both teenagers to jump. It was high-pitched and buzzing, and sounded somewhat...mugglish.

Matthew heard footsteps from the other side of the door. There was the sound of latches being undone, followed by the door being pulled open, and there in the doorway stood Professor Snape, looking rather surprised.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, the alarm still ringing, “Why are you not in Hogsmeade?”

“You barred me from going as punishment.” Matthew reminded the man, “Sir.”

Snape looked at Matthew like he had sprouted an extra head, then turned to Merula. He looked like he was about to say something, but stopped himself before doing so.

“There is work on the board.” he said hurriedly, flicking his wand at his desk to turn the ringing off. “I suppose if you finish early, you may return to your common rooms.” And with that, he was gone. Merula and Matthew stared at the corridor he had darted down before entering the classroom and getting their notebooks out. The silence was deafening. Matthew tried to focus on his work, but couldn’t help but wonder why Merula was here with him. Why hadn’t she gone to Hogsmeade?

“Am I blocking your view of the board or something?” she asked indignantly. Matthew quickly shook his head and looked back at his notes. He eyed the spoon. Edwin was smiling.

“I don’t believe it. Sev’s still at Hogwarts after all this time.” he mused. Matthew took a scrap of paper and wrote ‘You knew him before?’ on it before moving it so Edwin could see.

“Very clever, mate...and yes, I did know him. We got on well when we wanted to, but I doubt he’d be pleased to see me.”

‘Snape isn’t pleased to see anyone’ he wrote back. That got a laugh out of the strange wizard. Suddenly, something occurred to Matthew. Quickly, he wrote another note: ‘You are a wizard, right? Just checking.’

Edwin looked at the note and laughed. “Of course! Y’know, back in my day we started calling Muggles squares.”

Matthew could imagine Edwin calling a lot of people squares. He tried to focus on the work, but it was difficult to do so as Edwin kept moving across anything with a reflection, making loud observations as he did so (“That was there back then !”). What Matthew did notice, however, was that Edwin never appeared on the silver bracelet Matthew always wore. He had had an inkling that it was magical, considering how he got it, but knew very little about its origins. But no matter what, Edwin never crossed it. Matthew made a mental note of it; he was still a little unsure that he could trust him. It was then that he noticed Merula staring at his arm as well.

“What?” he said suddenly, the theories in his head quickly dispersing. “Am I doing something- I mean,”

“What is that?” she asked, pointing down.

“What?”

“No, not your bracelet, you dolt. That.” she said, poking at the biro Matthew had been using. He hadn’t even realised he was using it instead of his quill.

“Oh, that’s a pen.” Matthew explained. Merula still looked lost. “It’s like a quill, but you don’t have to keep dipping it in ink every few seconds. It’s way better.”

“Oh...” said Merula, glancing down at the several inkblots on her parchment. “Well, I think quills are better. We’ve used them for centuries, after all.”

“Yeah, I mean, so did Muggles.” Matthew reminded her, “But then we found a better way of doing things.” There was a silence, and Matthew could see Edwin examining the situation. But then, the obvious solution hit him. “Do you want one?”

Merula looked up from her parchment. “Do I...what?”

“I have loads of spare pens. I was asking if you wanted one.” Matthew fished an identical biro out of his pencil case and placed it on the table. Merula slowly moved her hand towards it, before snatching it quickly, eyeing Matthew with suspicion. She looked at her parchment, before slowly writing out a sentence with the pen. Then she kept going. She looked at the pen, then at Matthew.

“A-..And M-Muggles have been using these for...”

“A good hundred years or so, yeah.” Matthew finished. It only then occurred to him just how backward the Wizarding World could be. I mean, they had house-elves, they didn’t have electricity, and they still worried about ink stains. It was just so...trivial.

Matthew saw Edwin give him a thumbs up, before moving off to explore elsewhere. The Ravenclaw stared at his work, and quickly realised he had done very little. Furthermore, it looked like some of the most difficult potion work devised by wizardkind. A few minutes later, Merula slammed her quill on the desk in a rage.

“Aag! This is impossible!” yelled Merula, “Why isn’t this...in any way...for third-years?”

“Because it probably wasn’t for third-years.” observed Matthew, putting his own quill down, “I imagine he would have made it a test if he hadn’t been distracted by whatever that alarm was.”

“But...why would he give such advanced work to us?” Merula asked.

“Actually, he probably planned to give it to me.” Matthew looked over at the board again. “He wasn’t expecting you to be here, remember?”

Merula nodded at this, frowning. “Thanks for the extra work, Luther. Much appreciated.”

“Anytime.” Matthew replied with a smile.

Merula returned a smirk, before gesturing at the work before them. “Well, if you’ve got any ideas, I’m all ears.”

Edwin had been silently guiding Matthew for a lot of this, but was starting to get slightly louder now. “Okay, now flirt a little.”

Matthew really had to focus to keep his face still now. He stared at the problem at hand. With regards to a Dreamless Sleep potion, discuss whether the Fleamont or Daedalus approach is more effective at preventing Rapid Eye Movement, and-

“Oh come on, dude!” Edwin moved from the spoon to the various bottles around the room, passing by the reversed lettering on the labels. “You are alone with a girl. How much more perfect can this get?” Matthew was surprised to find himself considering the previously unthinkable. Sure, these sorts of thoughts had started showing up recently, but they were never...realistic. But he had to admit that Edwin had a point. Nobody else was around. They could talk without being egged on by anyone nearby. They could just...reflect on things.

“Well?” said Merula, leaning forward slightly to hover over the book, “Anything?”

Matthew shook his head, turning towards the Slytherin. “‘Fraid not. I mean, we haven’t learnt either of these approaches, and all I can tell you is that one of them is named after Fleamont Potter, but that’s about it.”

Merula didn’t move back, but pulled the book closer to her, albeit with Matthew’s hand still on it. She gazed at the question with clear irritation. Edwin looked on from a nearby flask.

“Hey, Matt...you thinking what I’m thinking?” Both boys turned around and looked at Snape’s office through the open door. Even from here, they could see a large file on the desk, but not what had caused the ringing.

“What is it?” Merula asked, noticing that Matthew had turned away from the work.

“This is going nowhere.” Matthew admitted. “We don’t have a solution, but I imagine Snape might...”

He turned back to her and pointed at the office. Merula eyed it for a moment, then turned back to him. She seemed to be processing what Matthew was suggesting.

“If he comes back, we’re dead.” Merula said, looking straight at Matthew.

“If we don’t do the essay, we’re dead.” Matthew reminded her, trying desperately not to sound stressed.

“You really think Snape’s stitched us up?”

“Well, if the Greatest Witch in all of Hogwarts can’t do it, who can?”

“Good point.” Merula got off her stool and moved towards the corridor. “Nobody’s there. Let’s go.”

They quickly slipped into the office, Matthew closing the door behind him. It was just as dark and dingy as the rest of the rooms in the Dungeons, although this room was slightly more colourful, with a large red chest of drawers behind the desk. On the left wall of the room was a large silver box with a bell on it, which he assumed had made the alarm. It reflected everything perfectly, yet for some reason Edwin didn’t appear in it. It was like he couldn’t even see it was there. Attached to the box was a note, which read:

Severus,

Before she died, she returned here to place one of these in each of the Heads of House’s offices to warn us when they rear their heads again. She also said that if one was ever to emerge, they would have to be banished again via the way they came in, if that helps any. The devices are a mixture of magic and “science” the likes of which the world has never seen. I can only imagine the things she could have done with her magic if she were still with us.

Good luck, and do Slytherin proud,

-Horace.

“Find anything?!” Edwin yelled from the other side of the room. He was awfully loud, yet it was odd to see Merula completely unable to hear it. Matthew quietly shook his head, and left the box alone. 

The two scoured over the room until Merula noticed an open book on Snape’s desk.

“Hah, here it is!” she exclaimed, leaning right onto the desk so that her feet left the floor. Edwin chose this moment to reappear in a nearby mirror.

“Wow, you choose well...that is one fine...”

“Shut up...” Matthew said under his breath. He didn’t just hate that Edwin was saying some outrageous things when Merula was right in front of them, but he hated that he found himself agreeing. He moved next to Merula, keeping his eyes away from her lower robes, and positioned himself next to her.

“Now how were we supposed to know that?” Merula said, scowling, before turning to Matthew. “Well, I mean, how were you supposed to know that. It’s...it’s...”

He nodded in return. “It’s bull. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been doing this the entire time. Hang on…” Matthew sifted through the papers, until he caught a glimpse of a tiny post-it note with three equations on it. There was one labelled “Slyth'', one labelled “Other”, and one filled with division signs called “Weaks''. Merula’s jaw dropped.

“He’s...he’s been...but that’s...” she stammered, taking the post-it note with her hand. 

Matthew didn’t know what to say. He knew exactly what sort of thoughts were running through her head, as they’d run through his head time and time again. What on earth could he do? Edwin saw them struggling, and pointed at a sheet of paper on the far side of the desk. It was a collection of raw test scores. Matthew allowed himself to smile.

“Merula, look.” he said, offering her the table. “It’s the scores before they’ve been altered.”

The two gazed down the list until they came to “Snyde, Merula”, under which there was a list of perfect scores. Merula took the file with both hands as a smile formed on her face, as her breathing began to relax.

“So...panic over?” Matthew asked hopefully.

She looked up at him, the happiest she had been for a while. “Panic over, Luther.”

After about half an hour, they had both written an essay which was good enough to get a pass but original enough for Snape not to notice. Matthew put his hands behind his head and leant back on his stool.

“Boy, I can’t wait to see the look on Snape’s face when he sees our essays.” he mused, “He can’t even punish us! We’ve done the work!”

Merula smirked as she packed her things away. “Don’t get smug, Luther. He’ll find something to get you for next lesson.”

“Maybe, though I doubt it.” said Matthew. “Now I know his secret he’s a lot less of a threat.”

“As if!” Merula retorted. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around at all. They hadn’t heard anyone nearby, not even the first or second years.

“It...really is quiet, huh?” Matthew said, turning back to Merula.

“Mm, funny that.” said Merula. She paused. “Are we really the only ones here?”

“Yes, yes you are, Matt.” said Edwin, grinning, “Think of what could be!”

Matthew’s imagination began to kick into high gear. Moving towards her. Telling her how he hated their rivalry. How he wanted to be friends. How he wanted…

“Well,” she said, moving towards the door. “That’s that, I suppose.”

“Wait!” Matthew said suddenly, surprising himself. Merula looked a little shocked at that too.

“Come on, the castle’s all yours, right?” whispered Edwin, “You can do whatever you want...” At this, an idea suddenly struck Matthew.

“I was just thinking.”

“First time for everything.” Merula remarked.

“No, listen. Most of the school’s in Hogsmeade, right?”

“Yes...”

“So, nobody’s going to notice us if we...look for clues for the next Vault?”

Merula stared at him for a moment, then smiled. “Alright, sure. I suppose you won’t get another opportunity, and why wouldn’t you want to work with Hogwarts’ Greatest Ever Witch?”

“Quite so. Shall we?” Matthew said, gesturing up the stairs.

Merula smirked, and headed up the stairs, Matthew following after. This could actually work out, Matthew thought, glancing at Edwin in the silver again. He was grinning wildly. He moved around all the metals they passed as Matthew and Merula scoured the grounds for clues. As they did so, something occurred to the Ravenclaw. Edwin was a wizard, and he clearly knew Snape, but something was off. He meant to ask the strange boy about it, but he was too close to Merula at any given time to risk it, and that was a distraction in and of itself. Nevertheless, the question remained:

Where was Edwin’s wand?

[eventidespirits]

Adam Allistair Freemont

Aliases: Edwin Lockhart, William Silva, Francis LaRue, Everett Brighton, James Fenwick

Apparent Age: "29"

Birthday: August 11th, 1897

Death Day: December 19th, 1926

Species: Vampire (Siren Bloodline)/Bloodbound Spirit

Gender: Cis Man

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: Primarily Heterosexual

Occupation: Photographer

Residence: Santa Marta, California; Morgan Kendrick's Psychic Realm

Universe: Primarily original lore but also Vampire the Masquerade where he's a Camarilla Toreador who defected to the Sabbat.

Appearance:

Height: 6'0

Build: Tall and lanky with angular shoulders and long limbs. He has a trim, lightly muscled physique with long delicate fingers and soft hands.

Eye Color: Luminous Yellow/Gold with slitted cat-like pupils and a darker, amber band around the edges.

Hair Color/Texture: Black, 1b hair texture. Just long enough for the ends to brush against his shoulders. Partially brushed back and parted to the right but a significant amount of his hair ends up falling into his face.

Face: Angular with a square jaw and high cheekbones. He has a mostly straight nose with a slight convex curve to the bridge. He has deep set eyes with heavy lids and dark circles and usually looks somewhat sleepy but in a strangely sensual way. Defined lips that are usually curved into a sadistic little smirk. He's quite attractive but in a way that feels vaguely dangerous or even predatory.

Distinguishing Characteristics: Adam has bright golden eyes with slitted cat-like pupils. He also has a rather large, jagged scar on his back, located between his shoulder blades. I'd include his *other* distinguishing characteristic but that's kinda NSFW ;)

Posture/Body Language: Confident, even arrogant, chin up, shoulders back but not in a way that looks particularly stiff. His body language is generally relaxed and easy, bringing to mind a big cat at rest -- there's always something about the way he moves that implies a predatory nature laying beneath his cool, collected surface. Adam walks with clear purpose and long, smooth strides and always knows how to make an entrance.

Voice: Soft and smooth with a deep timbre and confident inflection. Adam's voice is somewhat like poisoned honey or arsenic laced velvet -- smooth and sweet but with something slightly off.

Clothing Style: Adam prefers dark colors -- burgundy, blood red, black, charcoal, rich deep browns and the ocassional pop of gold or cream or a white dress shirt. He wears primarily expensive, tailored button downs made from things like silk, velvet or very high thread count cotton with the sleeves rolled up and the top three (or four) buttons undone. Sometimes with brocade, floral or striped patterns. If it's cooler out, he'll wear a black blazer or something similar. When it comes to pants, it's almost entirely black or charcoal tailored pants or pitch black jeans. He usually wears very few accessories -- a nice watch, a belt, a silver and garnet ring and a pendant on a thin silver or gold chain. Generally wearing pointed toe oxfords or other dress shoes. When it comes to outerwear, Adam generally prefers things like wool coats and the ocassional leather jacket (always real leather, too) (to get a better idea, check out his [Pinterest Board]

Skills

Social: Manipulation, Lying, Gaslighting, Flirting, Proper Etiquette, Public Speaking, Blame Shifting, Negging, Seduction

Physical: knife combat, some hand to hand combat, basic combat training (circa 1914), long range firearms/sniping, Ballroom Dancing, Fencing, Horseback riding, the carnal arts

Talents: Photography, Drawing, Poetry, Lying, Being an Asshole, Manipulation, Painting, Seduction, Sex

Knowledges: Fluent in French & Italian, Masters in Psychology (circa 1926), Photo Development (wet plate, autochrome, modern methods), some basic knowledge of financial law and property law

Hobbies: Photography, writing, breaking pretty girls, avoiding his deep-seated psychological issues, general hedonism

Special: Emotional Influence, Telepathy, Emotional Transference, Enhanced Stamina, Enhanced Strength, "Immortality", Enhanced Senses (esp sight), minor regeneration, sweet blood, emotional radar/supernatural empathy, hypnosis/mind control

Psyche

Strengths: Charismatic, quick-thinking, clever, good at understanding the thought processes of others, empathetic, deeply romantic, treats service workers well, dedicated, generally calm, high emotional intelligence, has critical thinking skills, polite*, can be incredibly sweet, adaptable, pays a lot of attention to his partners in bed, passionate, artistic, creative, protective

Weaknesses: selfish, self-absorbed, arrogant, manipulative, almost completley lacks compassion, disdain for basically everyone around him, dishonest, has a horrible temper, needs constant attention and praise, has a massive inferiority/superiority complex, overconfident, easily susceptible to flattery, deep-seated intimacy issues, can't stand being wrong, terrified of vulnerability, paranoid, detached from his own emotions/denies his own humanity, callous, sadistic, can be incredibly rude, actually a bit of a coward, condescending, possessive, jealous and generally kind of a dick.

Fears: genuine intimacy, abandonment/loneliness,true death, being buried alive

Goals: To finally create the perfect art piece (i.e., break someone in just the right way -- he's not even sure what this MEANS, he's just sure he'll "know" when he finally does it), to just enjoy his immortality.

Personality: On the surface, Adam seems likable enough -- at least, at first. He's incredibly charming and thoughtful, often anticipating people's wants before they're even able to articulate them, witty, intelligent and seemingly very polite...

But beneath that surface lurks a spoiled rich kid who learned early on in life that having money, being good looking and charming meant he could get away with almost anything. Adam is self-absorbed and arrogant and almost everything he does is a carefully crafted performance intended to get people on his side and manipulate them into doing what he wants.

Beneath even that, which he desperately tries to ignore, is a little boy who was spoiled by his mother and entirely ignored by his (largely absent) father -- a young man who was traumatized by being forced to fight in WWI and who is full of deep-seated fears and insecurities.

To make up for this, Adam is often sadistic towards the people around him -- but in that way where it's difficult to tell that he's actually being cruel until one looks back at the conversation.

He has difficulty genuinely connecting to others because of those insecurities and instead uses his powers as a Siren to make the people around him love and adore him-- no matter how badly he treats them.

Life

Best Memory: Being gifted his first camera, meeting his Maker.

Worst Memory: Somewhere between when he almost died during WWI and his actual death...

Biggest Achievement: Getting his Masters

Prized Possession: Silver and Garnet ring gifted to him by his Maker, his first camera, his black 2020 Ferrari Portofino (with the red leather interior), (he also has an engraved custom sniper rifle but a friend picked the model and shit for me and I cannot remember what it is for the life of me)

Favorite Color: Red, Gold

Favorite Food:

-Mortal Food: Partial to anything rich and flavorful, prefers food that's not pointlessly ostentatious (nothing coated in gold leaf, that's absurd), dry red wines, Italian Cream Cake, Eggs Benedict, Crepes Suzette

-Blood: Blood taken in the heat of the throes of passion from someone that's truly and deeply in love with and obsessed with him...

Favorite Scents: Blood, Gasoline, Cloves, Cinnamon, Resin, YSL Nuit, roses, vanilla, rain, the sharp smell of a cloudless winter night

Favorite Songs: Winter, 1st Movement - Vivaldi, Raindrops - Chopin, La Vie En Rose - Edith Piaf

Can't Leave Home Without: At least one knife somewhere on his person.

Birthplace: San Francisco, California

Childhood: Adam is the only child out of six in his family to survive to adulthood with four older siblings who had either in infancy, had been stillborn or died of tuberculosis when Adam was still too young to remember them. He had one younger sibling, a sister named Mary who was killed in an accident at the age of 6 when Adam was 8 years old. His parents were already a little bit older by the time he was born and his father was the owner of an incredibly lucrative railroad line and had profited greatly from the Gold Rush as well as owning multiple properties in San Francisco and neighboring Santa Marta...

Due to the loss of her other children, Adam's mother doted on him -- giving into his every whim, supplying him with the best education she could and basically just spoiling the ever loving fuck out of him. His father, on the other hand, was always busy with work and when he was home, had nothing but criticism for Adam who desperately tried to gain his approval to no avail.

Adolescence: Adam developed a passion for photography as a teenager and discovered that being good-looking, clever and rich meant he could get away with A LOT more than most people and also meant that he rarely heard "no" and accepted it as an answer even less often (though he rarely resorted to force to get his way, relying instead on bribery, flattery, blackmail and implied threats). All of this gave him quite an interest in psychology and he intended to become a clinical psychologist. During his adolescence, Adam would have a great many girlfriends and despite being a selfish and manipulative little shit, was actually not the world's worst boyfriend and no hint of the violent temper and genuine sadism he'd develop after being Changed.

Adulthood: Adam's education would be interrupted by the outbreak of WWI,which if asked he will describe as "incredibly distasteful and personally inconvenient." He was a skilled marksman and sniper but was otherwise unremarkable -- much to his father's disdain. After nearly dying in one of the trenches of France after taking a grievous bayonet wound in the last few months of the war, Adam would be sent back from the frontlines and would shortly begin work on continuing his education...

However -- despite the fact that he would complete all seven years necessary to get his degree, Adam's interest in becoming an actual psychologist wouldn't ever come to fruition. In 1925, he would meet Amelia Madeleine Smith -- an unbelievably beautiful and charming socialite from Santa Marta who would see Adam's potential as a source of money and influence for the Nightingale Court of Northern California. She would spend the next year carefully grooming him to become her protege -- manipulating him much in the same way he would later manipulate the women he dates as a vampire -- using emotional transference, mind control and mundane manipulation to cause him to fall madly in love with her... In December of 1925, Amelia would finally perform the ritual of transformation on him and bring Adam over into the world of the Supernatural.

Unfortunately for Adam, his Change would take nearly two weeks to complete -- two weeks spent in absolute agony beyond anything he'd experienced before. Amelia, believing the most important first step for a newly born vampire is to break their bonds to humanity would kidnap his mother during this change and leave her for him to kill upon waking. Adam would remain with Amelia (who used her bond as Adam's maker to control most of his actions and her abilities as a Siren to continue to influence his emotions) until 1980 when she was killed by a member of the Bram Park Wolf Pack in Santa Marta, leaving Adam behind. During this period, Adam would end up being "taken in" by a bonded pair of Stryza -- Camille Belikova and Lucy DeSantos and would act as their primary draw for new playthings.

Recent: Adam met Morgan Kendrick at the Velvet Box goth club in Santa Marta when Morgan was twenty two years old and would sweep her off her feet, intending to make her into his "masterpiece"... Three years into this relationship, Adam would finally Change Morgan, which would break the initial control he had over her and result in her, in a fit of rage, completely draining him and through a magical fluke, causing his spirit to become bonded/fused with her blood...

Recently, Adam's presence has disappeared from Morgan's psyche due to the machinations of Miss Belikova and her wife -- though it appears that the two of them are still inextricably linked in a way beyond the usual bond between Maker and Fledgling.

Relationships

Family: Lawrence Freemont (Father; Deceased), Anne Freemont (Mother; Deceased), Mary Freemont (Sister; Deceased)

Lovers: Amelia Smith (Maker; Deceased), Morgan Kendrick (Fledgling, Ex, Soulbond), Many other unnamed girls.

Friends: Camille Belikova, Lucille DeSantos, Jonathan Andreason

Enemies: Morgan Kendrick, the Bram Park Wolfpack

Acquaintances: Miranda Cortez (Queen of the Nightingale Court of Santa Marta)

Income: Moderately Wealthy

Vehicles: 2020 Ferrari Portofino

Residences: Penthouse Apartment in Vista Rosa, a small Victorian row house in Val Del Mar and a 1br/1ba apartment in Park Verde (all located in Santa Marta)

[wtfobiwan]

Savior | Ralph Dibny x reader

Words: 1,604

I don't know why this took me so long to write. I gave up at the end too. But I really hope @kurtbastianlover likes this.

Warnings: death (I guess)

Y/N

"Ralph! Just, fight it, alright? Fight it! I'll save you!" I heard Barry yell, making me run into the speed lab, seeing Ralph on his knees with light glowing through his head as DeVoe began to move all his powers from Edwin's body to Ralph's.

"You already did, Barry," Ralph said before his eyes closed and his head dropped, Edwin's body falling beside Ralph. Tears pooled in my eyes as I cover my mouth. I watched as Cisco and Killer Frost appeared in the speed lab from a portal, Cisco falling to his knees, pressing his fingers to his ears. I looked back at Ralph, his head being pulled up slowly, a smirk resting on his lips as he stood. I watched as Barry phased through the floor and passed me in a blur before grabbing the tuning fork, trying to hit the ground to knock DeVoe out. DeVoe hit Barry with a sound wave, knocking him into the entrance of the running area. Cisco sent a vibe blast toward, but the blast with through a portal and hit Cisco, sending him across the room. Killer Frost went to hit DeVoe in the head, but the man grabbed her wrist.

"Melt," he spoke, Killer Frost's hair turning brown before she was lifted up into the air and thrown against a metal wall, her body dropping to the floor. The lights flickered above me as electricity swirled around my hands, the bolts of lightning and electricity shooting towards DeVoe as I lifted my hand. A portal opened in front of him, another portal opening in front of the first one, the electricity and lightning hitting me in the chest, throwing me against the wall behind me. I watched painfully as DeVoe walked through a portal, disappearing from sight before I passed out.

I woke up hearing soft voices around me, pain surging through my head as I moved. Caitlin was talking softly beside me, my eyes opening slowly, letting me look up at the ceiling. I felt pain in my arm, making me look down to see my arm in a sling. “What happened to me?” I asked Caitlin, making her turn to look at me.

“When DeVoe threw you against the wall, your collar bone snapped. It’s going to take a while for it to heal due to how much damage he did,” the brunette told me as she helped me sit up. She showed me the x-ray of my collar bone, allowing me to see three breaks in the bone. “Your powers should be able to heal you, but you obviously won’t heal as fast as Barry.” She informed me. I slid off the bed and walked into the cortex, watching as Iris talked to Barry and Cisco looked at the computers for any breaches.

We worked on finding Ralph for weeks, but had no success in finding him. I sat on the floor, rubbing my temples as I thought of a way to save Ralph. Iris and Harry returned to the time vault with Marlize and the chair DeVoe had used. “The only way to stop him is getting into his mind and saving your friend,” I heard the woman say, making me lift my head up to look at her. I quickly stood up and walked to Marlize, looking at the floating chair.

“I’ll do it,” I said loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Caitlin and Cisco looked at me with concerned looks on their faces. I smiled at the two before nodding at them, getting in DeVoe’s chair before looking at Cecile, who smiled sadly at me before nodding. Marlize put the cerebral inhibitor on Cecile’s forehead. Marlize looked at me and nodded, silently telling me to put the cap on my head. I slowly put the cap on my head and let out a heavy sigh. Caitlin explained how I would get into Clifford’s conscience and Marlize hit a button on a tablet, transferring my conscience to DeVoe’s.

I fell through the dark matter portal and let out a grunt, getting up quickly and looking around. I watched as DeVoe floated over the street in his chair, forcing me to hide in the bus. “Y/N. What do you see?” I heard Iris ask me as I hid behind a seat on the bus.

“Well I see DeVoe and I’m hiding in the 405 bus until I get a clearing. Where do I need to go?” I asked the people that were watching over my body.

“You’re at where it all started,” Marlize said “Go to our house.” She told me. I turned into a little ball of electricity and sped to the DeVoe’s house. I shifted back when I got to the house and landed on my feet carefully. I walked into the house and looked around.

“Guys? There’s nothing here." I told the others, hearing the others talk to each other in confusion.

“Little vague for the viewers at home. What do you mean nothing?” Cisco’s voice echoed, making me roll my eyes before looking around the home more.

“It’s empty,” I told the team. I picked up a picture frame and flipped it over, seeing the cracked glass with no picture inside the frame. “It’s completely empty. Alright so where should I go?” I asked, not hearing a response from the team. I looked around the house more before hearing the team talking again.

“Harry had an idea. Go to Oxford,” I heard Cisco say as I walked down the stairs. I repeated the name of the college in a confused tone.

“The Hamlet of Boar’s Hill. The place where we fell in love.” Marlize’s voice echoed, I nodded before turning into a small ball of electricity and going to the location Marlize told me to go to. I got to the location and changed back, landing on my feet roughly and looking around, seeing a blanket and picnic basket set out on the ground, a car with the door open playing music, and a gazebo beside the parked car. I looked around and let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

“DeVoe’s not here. Is there anywhere else he would go?” I asked quietly, hearing silence on the other side.

“Sparky?” I heard someone say my nickname from behind me, making me turn around to see Ralph standing by the tree line.

“Ralph?” I asked as I walked to him cautiously. “I thought you were gone. I’m so sorry,” I said,  wrapping my arms around him.

“I missed you too, Y/N,” Ralph said wrapping his arms around me. I let out a relieved laugh and smiled. 

“Did you just say Ralph?” I heard Iris and Barry ask in unison.

“Yeah guys, it’s Ralph, He’s alive.” I told the others as I let go of the brunet. I smiled and grabbed his hand.

“How are you here? Did he get you too?” Ralph asked me, his question shocking me and forcing me shake my head quickly.

“Cecile is using her telepathy to transfer my conscious into DeVoe’s. We don’t have much time. Have you seen the good DeVoe?” I asked him, watching him shake his head. I let out a sigh.

“I just see the evil floating chair variety. He visits me all the time,” Ralph told me, a frown forming on his lips.

“In this place I do as I please, Y/L/N. The fact that you didn’t think I would calculate this feeble plan to rescue your friend is insulting. There will be no defeating the Big Bad this year, Y/L/N. See, You’re in my mind now,” DeVoe said, Ralph’s hand tightening around mine. “And there’s no escape.” I looked at Ralph, who nodded and we turned into small balls of electricity and left the area. I looked around the city and went to the university DeVoe had taught at. We got into DeVoe’s old lecture hall and we shifted back, Ralph nearly falling as he landed on his feet. Both of us ran to the stage and saw DeVoe, dead at his desk with a large hole in his chest. I covered my mouth and looked away from the body.

“DeVoe didn’t want the good version of him getting control back,” I told Ralph. Lightning crackled around my hands, making me look outside. “I know where we need to go.” We ran out of the university and we ran to the street there the 405 bus crashed. I saw the portal and pointed to it. “That’s the nexus of DeVoe’s mind. We get through that, We get out of here.” I informed Ralph. I watched as an army of DeVoes. I grabbed Ralph’s hand and looked at him.

We turned into small balls of electricity and we pushed through the DeVoes and went through the portal, my eyes opening quickly. I got out of the chair and walked to DeVoe, watching as his body shook and he yelled out. He dropped to the floor and went towards his chair before sitting against the wall.

“This is not my will!” DeVoe screamed. I crossed my arms and smirked.

“No, but it’s mine,” I heard Ralph say, DeVoe’s head shaking as Ralph took control of his body again. I helped him stand up and held onto him as he regained his footing. I smiled at and watched as Marlize overrode the command for the Enlightening. We all watched as percentage rapidly dropped to zero. We returned to S.T.A.R. Labs and smiled as Iris told us there was no more dark energy in the city. 

[hellohellohellobingmetropcs]

ok I got bored and thought I was a writer yikes don’t drag 😭 it’s probably shitty I’m sorry

triggers: domestic violence

Disclaimer: DV is never ok & I stand against it completely ! I loveee z btw so no this is no Zion hate or anything lol I’ve met him in person and he’s the sweetest 🥰

“Why the hell would you do that?? I was just about to win! Are you dumb?” Zion shouted at you, tossing his controller at your head.

“Nooo I’m not dumb so I’m not boutta sit here and watch you yell at the damn game! That shit ass bro” you tossed the plug to the television aside. You did it jokingly at first not knowing it’d cause this much of a problem. “Why invite me over here and not even look at me?”

You grew sick of coming over to chill with your best friend to just be staring at his back muscles as he cursed profanities at the television like he lost all his manners.

“I told you gimmie 10 fucking minutes—“ he paced the room in circles, fists balled to a punch.

“NIGGA ITS BEEN FOURTY the fuck”

“Get out” he grumbled from under his dreads.

“Fuck you and this game” you spat before swiping your arm over thee entire desk of materials. The whole ps4 console and games falling over to the floor in a mess.

“Don’t touch my shit” he growled, grabbing ahold of your arm and flinging you onto the ground before stomping over you to collect his belongings from the floor.

Your eyes brimmed with tears watching him talk to you like trash after being flung to the ground in a harsh manner.

“(Y/N) I’m sorry please talk to me” he begged, following you around your small apartment.

It’s been a week since the incident and you’ve purposely been ignoring his calls and texts. He’s grown so desperate for a reaction out of that he’s publicly posting fun pics of you two on his Instagram story in hopes that his fans will spam you with the photos to grab your attention.

“Zion we have nothing to talk about! You put your hands on me over a video game ..”

You’ve always had one deal-breaker in relationships and it was physical altercations. Seeing your mother as a victim of domestic violence growing up was enough to shy you away from an abusive friend or partner at first glance.

Zion never came off as harmful though. He was always the life of the party making everyone else laugh and smile. Your first exhibit of his anger issues was when he snapped on Edwin for smoking some of his weed without asking. He was fuming, only person to calm him down was you. You taught him to use his words to express his anger instead of punching holes in walls or trying to fight because everything didn’t deserve a reaction and he was too far in his career to lose it all from one altercation.

Little did you know, Zion’s greatest appreciation for you as a friend came from those times he simply needed someone to talk to. He’d often call at night to talk about any and everything just to hear you congratulate him on his success of keeping his cool. On your end it’d be the butterflies that stir up in your tummy from his sleepy voice.

“(Y/N) I swear I’ll never do anything to hurt you. I don’t know what came over me”

“Me either. I’m sorry for touching your precious little game. You can let yourself out now” you rolled your eyes at what seemed to be the most cliche apology in the history of man.

You watched out the corner of your eye as he stood against your bedroom door still rambling. Your main focus was applying the blush to your cheeks to complete your makeup look for the day. You tuned his sorry ass in and out, letting the words go in one ear and out the other.

“I truthfully called you over to spend time with me because I like your presence and shit, just being around you makes me feel good. I know it sounds selfish and all but it’s true.”

Your mind was made up that you were done with him .. or at least you thought. It wasn’t until you heard the stiffness of his voice along with a crack as he continued to beg for your forgiveness.

“You’ve helped me through so much— you don’t even know the half. I love you and I’m afraid to lose you”

Your heart broke at the sight of him wiping his eyes like a baby trying to stop the tears. Dropping the brush you headed right over to him, enveloping him in your warm embrace.

There was no way he couldn’t have meant at least the last part with tears in his eyes.

“Don’t cry bubba. I forgive you”

Your head laid on his chest and listened as it regulated back to its normal pace. His arms squeezed you into him like there was no tomorrow.

You snaked your arm back from around him, reaching up to dry his eyes with your sleeve. His red pouty lips matched his puffy eyes, your thumb rubbed circles over his cheek, pulling his face down for a kiss. His hands moved over your waist ever so gently as if he was almost afraid to touch you.

You pulled away from the kiss still holding his face in your hands, searching his eyes for any false signs. His chocolate brown orbs only exuded love and sincerity in the presence of yours. You sighed, making an exception for your best friend “What happened is dead alright. Just don’t let it happen again”

He nodded viciously with his dimples threatening to pop as a broken smile crept onto his lips.

“Oh yeah .. I love you too”

[thedailyimagines]

Imagine DeVoe trying to take over your body.

@kurtbastianlover requested: “Hi could you write a one shot where de voe would have everyone unable to move and wanted to take over the reader while Cisco, Barry, Ralph and Frost had to watch. but because of Ralph's advice to not think but love she would somehow beat de voe. Because she would see the team and their memories together. Plus she would be in love with either Barry or Ralph?”

.

Decided to go with Ralph. The reader doesn’t have any active powers but there is mention of potential powers.

DeVoe is using Edwin Gauss’ body, so he can dimensional travel.

~~~~~~~~~

Y/n didn’t know how it all happened. In one moment she and Iris were keeping an eye on the computers as the team investigated a disturbance in one of the lower levels, the next there was an explosion and the two of them were frozen in place.

Barry came speeding back up, and y/n was sure the rest weren’t far behind.

“Let them go DeVoe. They have nothing to do with you.” DeVoe just chuckled and turned y/n’s head side to side. Barry tried to move, but his feet seemed stuck to the floor.

“On the contrary, Mr. Allen. Miss L/n makes the perfect addition to my solution.” Y/n wanted to punch the madman in the face. Whatever DeVoe was doing was the only thing stopping her.

It was at this moment that Ralph, Cisco, and Caitlin/Frost returned. Ralph saw DeVoe touching y/n and swung a fist at the Thinker.

“Don’t touch her!” The fist froze just before it came into contact with DeVoe, and the man tsked as he turned to face the bus meta.

“Unless you have something useful to contribute Mr. Dibny, do shut up.” DeVoe pushed Ralph’s fist away from himself, and turned back to y/n.

“Please. Don’t hurt her.” Y/n looked at Ralph and gave him a reassuring smile. More for him than herself.

“Ralph. It’s okay.” Ralph had tears in his eyes. DeVoe stepped in y/n’s line of sight, and she forced herself to face him.

“A shame that you’ll have to die, but understand it’s for the betterment of everyone.” DeVoe placed a hand on y/n’s forehead. The world began to spin and she closed her eyes.

‘Maybe it isn’t so bad. Maybe it’s like going to sleep.’ Memories flashed through y/n’s mind. Her tenth birthday party. Her graduation from high school. Her first day in Central City. The night of the particle accelerator explosion. Her joining Team Flash.

And Ralph.

Memory after memory of y/n and Ralph. The day they met. Hanging out in her loft. Karaoke night at their favorite bar. Telling her not to think, but love. Talking about her last ex. Each memory brought pangs of grief to y/n. She never realized it, but she loved him. And now she wouldn’t get to tell him.

‘No.’ A wave of emotions overtook y/n. Anger at DeVoe. Pride in the good she’d been a part of. Happiness for her friends. So much love towards Ralph. All of it was enough to force DeVoe out of her mind.

“What? What are you doing?!?! Stop this!” Y/n’s eyes flew open and summoning all her might, forced her hands to move DeVoe’s hand from her forehead.

“Ralph, now!” Ralph’s fist slammed into DeVoe’s cheek, and Barry ran towards y/n and pulled her away from the Thinker. Frost sent an ice beam towards DeVoe and Cisco rushes to shut the doors to the lab. Before anyone could attack DeVoe again, he disappeared from S.T.A.R. Labs. Barry ran out of the lab and returned, confirming that DeVoe was gone.

“What was that? It was like DeVoe was losing a grip on everything.” Barry was about to ask more when Cisco started running tests on the computers.

“I’m more concerned with how he got in. Let’s make sure everything is secure then have a team meeting.” The team split up, and after a moment y/n ran after Ralph.

“Ralph, wait up!” The stretchable vigilante turned towards y/n.

“Y/n, you should really stay with—!” Y/n cut him off with a kiss. When she pulled away, Ralph had a confused look on his face.

“What? I mean, I—what?” Y/n’s eyes were wide as she explained.

“I remembered what you said. About love. I think it helped me keep DeVoe out. I thought of you and... I love you. I need you to know that.”

“Y/n—”

“And I know I’m rambling now and Caitlin will probably say I’m in shock but—!” Ralph grabbed y/n and pulled her in for a kiss. When the kiss was broken, both had a surprised look on their face.

“You kissed me.”

“I did.”

“...We should probably check on everything.”

“Yeah! Let’s—let’s get that done. And we can talk later?”

“Later, yeah.”

~~~~~~~~

I don’t own the above gifs, all credits go to the owners.