#i swear to god that channel used to exist and now it's gone

[skellitonz]

fellow watcherinas did y’all ever see a www channel on the discord? am i delusional in thinking they took it off the off air section?

[homeybadger]

Forgotten?

Summary: Despite all your research- one question weighs on your mind. You finally decide to do something about it.

Warning(s): Thoughts of a Existential/Religious nature, mainly dealing with the Egyptian Pantheon. Possibly ooc characters. One swear word.

Note(s): The reader can see/hear Khonshu- and I set this up for a part two. This is just a collection of musings I had while thinking about the Moon Knight universe. As of right now, all the knowledge I have of the characters/dynamics comes from the show and a few videos on YouTube.

Was it even possible for a god to get lonely?

You discovered yourself asking this question in your subconscious more and more frequently these days. The deeper you researched, the more texts you uncovered, the more you pestered Steven and Marc and Jake- the further the question burrowed itself into your mind’s eye.

After arriving back from Egypt, your friends wasted no time before telling you all about how amazing everything was. Well- Steven normally gushed about the architecture and overall history of everything, while Marc and Jake were simply happy that Steven was happy. You couldn't blame them, it was obvious they all collected some sort of trauma from their time there, one way or another.

You hadn't even tossed a thought in Khonshu's general direction for weeks, far too occupied with ensuring your friends enjoyed their downtime after such a hectic adventure. Layla and you eventually agreed to rotations while visiting the boys' flat, allowing everyone to spend time together separately. Your arraignments also gave Layla enough space to figure out her new position as an avatar, and some time for Marc, Steven, and Jake to get to know each other. It wasn't until your third week of hanging out with them that you noticed how quiet Khonshu was being.

You'd figured, at the very least, Khonshu would've interjected information throughout Steven's historical monologues. When nothing of the sort occurred, you internally reasoned with yourself that maybe Steven and Khonshu worked something out. So, you turned to Marc and Jake, tossing in questions here and there about what they thought about Egypt and its history. When you noticed Khonshu leave the area, your curiosity rose further. That again, however, much like before, could be simply explained by something you weren't privy to. Maybe he was called away for some deity responsibilities? Or he was interested in doing something else? Maybe he was simply bored?

But then it happened again. Then again, and again. And again.

At this point, Khonshu was leaving even when you simply turned something on the TV about Egypt. A history channel documentary for Steven? Gone. Music for Layla, or simply some background noise? Gone. A video to teach yourself about hieroglyphs? Gone. Discussing Ammit, or her old cult, with Marc or Jake? Gone. Asking Layla about Taweret and their relationship? Gone. Researching about the various Egyptian deities you now knew existed? He was gone significantly faster.

It took the last instance for the puzzle pieces to finally slot together in your mind. The click moment wasn't nearly as satisfying as you'd hoped.

Khonshu was a god. He still is a god. He was openly worshiped- culturally and personally- for nearly 3,000 years at the very least. He received countless prayers, offerings, songs, writings and more from his followers throughout time. Feasts and festivals, holidays and rituals, all in his name. He had hundreds and thousands of people talking to him, about him, with him. There were hieroglyphs and statues etched into stone, religious texts and prayers that survived the aging of time, massive temples created in his name. He used to be able to interact with the other deities as well, others who could connect to and understand his experiences. Now what did he get? Only five people in Europe who knew of his existence?

A desperately far cry from the droves of interactions he used to have.

You could bet that actually going to Egypt, witnessing the statues and pyramids and hieroglyphs, he was curtly reminded of what he no longer had. And fighting with the other gods- especially getting locked away by the Ennead- certainly didn't ease his pain. He was almost forgotten at this point. That would hurt anyone, but unlike you, Khonshu couldn't find a therapist or rant to a friend. Harrow confirmed your suspicions in the beginning- Khonshu went through his days unseen and unheard by almost everyone.

The key word being almost. You weren't completely certain on how to help, but you were determined to try. There was no way you were breaching that conversation with anyone, so you decided to just start small. You branched off from Steven's grocery shopping list one night to grab some nuts and dried fruit- along with some scented candles.

Your head swirled with clashing emotions as you made your way inside of the flat. You ran the risk of angering a deity, or someone finding out and accusing you of trying to gain some kind of favor. That conversation could lead to-

You gently shook your head in an attempt to derail that train of thought. They were all your friends, if anything it would simply be awkward for a few days until everything blew over. Layla swung open the front door moments later, card game in hand, and your worries were forgotten for the night.

The next day, you started out with simply lighting the candles to gauge Khonshu's reactions. You weren't certain what exactly his "tell" would be, but you knew you'd know when he liked something. But, after weeks of swapping through various scents- even going back to the store to get some more- you swore you had to have missed it.

You progressed further, adding some dried fruit or nuts in a small bowl by the candle. Still, nothing. Khonshu still seemed to be silently sulking, but you pressed on. You tried saying the phrase, "This is for you, Khonshu.", either in your head or as a whisper. You tried food without the candle. You read about him and the other deities and further studied the hieroglyphs. You baked bread, went star gazing, thanked him whenever the boys made it home safely, and eventually started praying to him. Hell, you even asked him to play a card game with you at one point. Nothing seemed to help as drastically as you assumed.

But you did notice that Khonshu was beginning to seem somehow nicer, gentler even, if you dared to say it. He slowly began to become more involved in game nights, joking alongside Taweret. He'd point out constellations on clear nights, and you swore you caught him sneaking bread with Marc. The boys even noticed the change in his demeanor, Steven mentioning his lack of "worm" comments recently.

In turn, you discovered yourself actually enjoying the activities you tried out. Your friends actually began participating too. Steven and Layla would spend hours teaching you about Egypt, Marc would sneak into the kitchen to eat your baked goods, and Jake would lie awake with you to watch the stars. Although you didn't tell anyone why you started these hobbies in the first place, they somehow stuck in your everyday life.

You didn't realize how much it truly mattered, until you noticed someone following you home one night.

[honeypiehotchner]

My Deep Blue Love (Tom Hiddleston x Fem!Reader) -- Soulmate AU one shot

This was 100% born out of boredom and loneliness and those damn Soulmate AU POV Tiktoks that I have seen practically 24/7 for the past WEEK on my fyp

(I’m not sure if I’ll do a part 2, rn I have no plans for it)

quick note on the technicality of this one: you lose all ability to see colors when you turn 12 and you don’t regain the ability until you meet your soulmate. but! you have to meet them in person and it has to be a mutual eye contact. pictures/videos of them don’t work, and if you just saw the back of their head or something in person, that doesn’t work either. it’s all about the shared eye contact babeyyy

small disclaimer: Brie Larson is mentioned in here and she has a wife, but that is very much only in this fic, and as far as i know Brie doesn’t have a wife irl lol (i also don’t know if she’s spoken about her sexuality at all so what i’m saying is take it with a grain of salt ok)

Summary: Everyone around you is meeting their soulmate, but you still see in black and white. You’re ready to give up, and basically have, when you lock eyes with your soulmate.

Warnings: None! Just a bit of angst, lots of fluff toward the end 

You knock on your mom’s bedroom door at 4:58am. She’s already awake, sitting up in bed, ushering you over.

With tears in your eyes, you crawl onto her bed, snuggling close to her chest.

“I don’t want to lose my colors,” you whimper.

“I know, baby,” she whispers, kissing the top of your head. “It’s okay.”

You were born 12 years ago on this day at 5:08am, so in a few short minutes, when you officially turn 12 years old, all color will drain from your life.

Or the colors could stay, but that’s only if you’ve somehow already met your soulmate. And that’s rare, nearly impossible.

You squeeze your eyes shut at 5:07 and you don’t open them again until 5:10.

The colors are gone.

+++

twenty years later

You sigh heavily as you receive yet another wedding invite. You are invited to witness the official beginning of Olivia and Jeffrey’s lives together as husband and wife, soulmates for all of time.

The glitter sticks to your fingertips, tiny black dots against your skin. Your friend told you it’s gold. You barely remember what that looks like.

Lately it seems like everyone has been meeting their soulmate. Just yesterday, you were having coffee with a friend when she looked up at the girl sitting behind you, and boom.

“It’s like the world just exploded,” she had said. Colors were everywhere. She immediately left you to go talk to the girl.

You don’t blame her for that. If you had met your soulmate, you probably would’ve done the same thing. But you can’t say for sure because you don’t know.

You wouldn’t be so cynical of it all if your boyfriend of five years didn’t meet his soulmate while the two of you were out at dinner. You wish you could say that he was faking it. But it was clear from his face (and the girl’s) that he wasn’t kidding. It was real. He had met his soulmate, and it wasn’t you.

It’s never you.

You’ve had guys cut off dates before they even start, all because they didn’t see colors when they laid their eyes on you. They refuse to even be friends with you.

All anyone is doing anymore is searching for a soulmate and it’s exhausting when none of them are yours. When all of your friends see color now. When everyone assures you that it’ll happen soon. What does soon even mean?

You grab your ice cream from the freezer and fall onto the couch, flicking to whatever channel has late night shows that aren’t complete garbage.

As usual, you find yourself watching a talk show, and tonight Tom Hiddleston is one of the guests.

You’re sort of familiar with him from a few movies, but other than that, you hardly know anything about him.

“So, Tom, we’ve all been wondering what’s going on with you and Brie Larson?”

“Brie?” Tom asks, clearly shocked to hear this question. “We’re just good friends, that’s all.”

“Oh, she doesn’t make you see any colors?”

“Ah, no, actually, she does not,” Tom chuckles, but doesn’t sound sad at all, surprisingly. “Her wife does that for her, not me, I’m afraid.”

“Oh really?” The host brushes past the mention of Brie’s wife and keeps the focus on Tom, of course. “So is that true, you still don’t see color?”

Your ears perk up at the mention of someone else not seeing in color. It’s rare for anyone to talk about this on television. Most celebrities don’t talk about whether or not they’ve found their soulmate, but more often than not, those that have are quite loud about it.

“Yes, that’s true,” Tom answers. “I still see the world in a lovely black and white.”

You snort, harshly jabbing your spoon into your ice cream. Lovely. Yeah, right.

“Do you really think it’s nice? Do you not miss the colors?” The host asks.

“No, no, I do. I do,” Tom admits. “But I like to think I’ll see them when the time is right.”

You groan, going to Google to look up his age. And when you see he’s 40, you groan even louder. He’s older than you and he still hasn’t met his soulmate. That’s just depressing. How can he sound so optimistic?

“Alright, well, if there’s one thing you wish you could tell your soulmate, what would it be? Maybe they’re watching right now, you never know.”

Tom smiles wide. “Maybe, maybe, um… Oh, so many things,” Tom exhales deeply. “I guess I could be cliché and say I can’t wait to meet them and wait for me, but I think I want to say… I think I want to say I understand. It is frustrating, still seeing in black and white, but our paths will cross soon, I’m sure of it. Until then, my eyes are blue.”

Blue. Blue.

You roll your eyes. You don’t even remember what the color looks like.

+++

seven months later

“I am not going to a movie premiere. You’re insane!”

“Please!” Your friend, Catherine, cries. “You’ll love it, I swear.”

You glare at her over your coffee. “That just makes it sound like you have a trick up your sleeve.”

“I don’t,” she says. “I just want you to take advantage of this and come with us! When will you ever have the chance to go to a movie premiere again?”

She has a point. Dammit. “Touché. How did you get tickets, anyway? Please tell me you didn’t spend thousands for this.” You wouldn’t put it past her, even though you tell her not to every time before she does something like this.

“God, no, Joe surprised me with them earlier. He said he went to school with the lead.”

“Oh. Cool. Who?”

“Tom Hiddleston, I think. Have you heard of him? He’s British, but that’s about all I know. Joe just said they ran into each other the other day and reconnected.”

You stop halfway through a sip of coffee, careful to not choke on it. Slowly, you nod. “Yeah. I...I’ve seen him in a couple things.”

“Apparently, he hasn’t met his soulmate either…” Catherine trails away, raising her eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes. “I heard,” you set your cup down. “He’s probably met them by now though since he blasted it on television like that.”

“Or he’s still searching and you’re still being too cynical.”

“You’re probably right,” you chuckle.

“Sooo, you’ll come?”

You sigh heavily. “As long as you help me pick something to wear.”

+++

“I’m regretting letting you talk me into this already,” you mutter when you nearly trip in your heels.

“Oh, hush,” Catherine swats your arm. “It’s an excuse to get dressed up and look hot for no reason. Take it.”

“Fine.”

Catherine’s soulmate, Joe, was whisked away almost as soon as the three of you stepped inside the venue by some director (you think), but he promised to return in a few minutes. Catherine told him not to worry. She’s used to him being dragged away for conversation. You can see from her face that she’s more proud of him than anything, and not at all annoyed.

Currently, you and Catherine are standing near the small bar, waiting for them to announce that it’s time to take your seats. You desperately want a drink, but part of you knows it would be a bad idea.

One glass of wine can’t hurt, though. Maybe it’ll take your mind off the pain in your feet.

You peel away from Catherine when you see Joe coming back, and you flag the bartender down quickly.

After ordering a glass of white wine, you wait patiently, wishing you had chosen a dress with sleeves. It’s fucking cold in here.

“Darling, you’re shivering, are you alright?”

Your head turns toward the smooth voice, face set and mind trying to decipher whether or not it was a sincere or creepy comment when the world quite literally explodes.

There, standing beside you, concern written all over his face, is Tom Hiddleston. Only now the concern has washed away into awe when your eyes lock with his.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, stumbling even though he’s standing in place.

“Blue,” you murmur. “Your eyes are blue.” Without even thinking or asking, your hand lifts to cup his cheek, and then you pull back, “Shit, sorry—”

But he grabs your wrist gently, placing your palm on his cheek. “It’s alright.” His thumb strokes the back of your hand. “I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“I thought you didn’t exist,” you whisper in reply. But here he is. His eyes are blue, his lips are pink, he has tiny brown freckles all over his rosy cheeks. You look back to his eyes, narrowing your own. “You liar. Your eyes have green in them, too.”

“Do they really?” Tom chuckles. “I never would’ve known.”

“That’s why you have me,” you tease, and you don’t know where any of this is coming from, yet it doesn’t feel like you’re pretending. It feels like you’re finally yourself.

His other hand tangles with yours as he nods. “That’s why I have you, indeed.”

At this time, the lights in the theatre begin lightly flashing, signaling that it’s time for everyone to begin making their way to their seats.

But neither you or Tom move one inch.

The only issue is people are beginning to stare.

You notice it first, so you slowly pull your hand from his cheek. This movement shocks him back to reality, too, and he blinks a few times, yet he doesn’t let go of your hand.

“I, um, I have to make a speech,” he says. “But then I can come back to you. Will you save me a seat?”

“Don’t you have to sit up front?”

He nods. “I do, but—”

“Then I’ll come with you.” You aren’t sure if it’s the fact that he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, or if it’s because you’ve been waiting so long that now you don’t want him to be further than an arms length away from you, but you mean what you say.

“Are you sure?” He asks, but you both need to make a decision quickly because you can see someone waving from the wings, most likely trying to get Tom’s attention.

“I’m sure.”

He doesn’t question it, in fact, he grins, and brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Let’s go, then.”

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

happy getting hitched day! 1.9k, (sort of) ft. this

Most days of the year, Sam's the optimist.

It doesn't usually fall on Dean to keep the spirits up in times of war anymore. Or worse, loss. And Dean, well, he thinks himself as enough of an in-the-moment kinda guy to not wallow when everything's not going to shit, right friggin' then.

Sam, on the other hand?

Beacon of light when there's a little Hell to raise, harbinger of hope when there's a God to defeat.

And losing his shit entirely when there's an aisle to walk down, leading to the girl of his dreams and the best decision of his life.

"Dean."

Dean fusses around Sam in compact little semicircles fixing his already perfect tux, while his brother panics in a way Dean only remembers from before the kid stopped having to look up at Dean.

But he's looking down at Dean now, wide-eyed and sweaty like the very first time Dean saw him off on a date when he was fourteen — with supple, bullshit eighteen-year-old advice, he bets — and thirty eight year old Sammy is, clear as day, losing his shit.

"Yeah?" Dean channels all the calm he's got into it.

"What if I forget my vows?"

"Well," Dean lifts his eyebrows, and picks up a linen thread from Sam's shoulder that caught his eye. "First of all, would kinda serve you right for writing six pages worth of them."

"Stop being a —"

"Front and back, Sammy. Front and back."

"Dean." Sam glares, more indignant than mad. Dean rolls his eyes, and Sam continues, replacing the look immediately with a troubled one that reflects the dilemma in his voice. "I mean, I've learned them, of course. At least I think I have — I practised twice last night, once this morning — but what's to stop me from fumbling, or forgetting —"

"Your gigantic nerd brain?"

"This is serious." Sam frowns, levelling another look at Dean like he's the one with the stellar proverbial cold feet. "Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean throws back immediately, and pauses in his shuffling around for effect. "Also, no. No, it isn't." And Sam goes to argue with a bitchface already surfacing, but Dean keeps going, sterner, more confident. This is something he's been doing all his life. He can probably talk the kid down from a panic high like this in his sleep. "And you're going to stop being a dumbass, and listen to what I'm saying."

"'M not a dumbass." Sam mutters.

"Yeah, you are." Dean shrugs, completely nonchalant, and Sam laughs in spite of himself, nervous, but a welcome improvement as he waits for Dean to proceed. (Big brother voice never lets Dean down.)

He's still got it.

"Here's what you're going to do. You're going to get out there," Dean continues, smiling now. "You're going to hold Eileen's hand while the minister marries you. And approximately ten to fifty minutes later, when he asks you to, you're going to look into her eyes, and you're going to say your vows. All stupid six pages of them, verbatim, 'cause I know you, and you're going to that's why."

"They're not stupid."

Dean hums in consideration, then smirks. "There's bravery in acceptance. They probably are."

"Cas called them exquisite." Sam crosses his arms, and Dean uses the opportunity to pick up a hair from his sleeve with a disapproving look.

(Dean had offered to give him a haircut seventeen times and gotten turned down, and now Sam was shedding.)

"Yeah, well, he's a walking-talking scrabble board with good manners, what is he supposed to do?" Dean rolls his eyes but instead of the expected response of Sam snarking back at him, bitchfacing him or something, Sam sighs.

The air thickens with something that's probably a bigger deal than having to wing a couple paragraphs of page three of the vows.

Dean watches Sam fidget with the buttons on his cuff.

"How did you know, Dean?" Sam asks, subdued, after a pause. "How did you know that Cas wasn't — that Cas wasn't making a horribly wrong decision."

Dean's almost halfway to making a joke about the other shoe but he stops himself.

Because this?

This, he gets.

This feeling of thinking — knowing — you're not good enough, that you aren't right for the one you love, that you're somehow deceiving everything that your life has stood as proof of, in allowing someone else to bind themselves to you, forever, when you know that everyone who's ever meant something to you has lost, and died, and hurt.

And that is exactly why he also knows what to say.

"Because I trust him, Sammy."

Sam's eyes start glazing over. "I trust her too. I just, I'm just so scared —"

Dean winces at his words.

(That's Sam, but it's Sam in Dean's shoes. It was Dean's job — for better or for worse — to keep him safe. And he's failed, failed repeatedly, and now Sam — well, he's as broken as Dean.)

"I love her too much for anything to go wrong, Dean, and something — no, everything, always goes wrong." Sam grits his teeth, and Dean puts his hand on Sam's shoulder.

Squeezes. "I get it. I swear to you, I do. But I also promise that you might regret the things we've done, and the things that have been done to us, but you're never going to regret this."

Sam nods jerkily, eyes downcast.

"And I get being scared. Hell, I was more scared than you the entire week, dude. But you know how — and why, I pushed through?" Sam looks up again. "Because at the end of all of this, there's something more important than the promises of eternal happiness, and forever, and the Celine Dion lyrics I know you've stuffed in your vows. There's them. The ones we love."

Dean swallows.

"And who love us too, because our fucked up heads be damned, I've seen the way she looks at you, Sammy." Sam's face breaks into a small, wet smile. "So you better believe she does."

"I do." Sam slowly nods, again, eyes brimmed with tears.

(Probably about to start spilling. The only consolation for Dean is that at least his tears don't fall. Means as long as he doesn't mind a blurry view of everything, he might as well ignore their existence like he means it.)

"There, was that so hard?" Dean laughs instead, although it's weak until Sam joins in, surprised, and only then registering the words he just spoke.

"Thank you, Dean."

Is all he says, and anything Dean might've wished to say (or wisecrack) back at him is dismissed immediately because he's being pulled into a full Winchester hug by his door-sized little brother, and all he can do then is hold onto Sam as tight as he's holding him, and hold on.

(Because they made it.

They found free will, they found love, and they found their happy ending.)

Because Sammy's getting married today.

And they don't just get to be okay anymore. They get to be happy.

Sam doesn't pull back from the hug for at least a whole minute, but Dean doesn't mind, because the tears welling up in his eyes are gone when he finally smiles at Dean, earnest. "I'm —" He starts to say, but gets interrupted by Cas walking up to them with a cluster of carnations in his hand, wearing a rich navy blue tux (the same as Dean's) and a wide smile.

"Hope I didn't interrupt anything," Cas beams, knowing exactly what he walked in on, and Sam shakes his head courteously while Dean battles the weirdly overwhelming need to kiss him right there — Cas is almost ridiculously beautiful when he's happy.

(He doesn't, though.

Cause he and Sam may've just had a moment but it's not like that means he'd be any less likely to be a pain in the ass about urgently requiring brain bleach and therapy, if Dean did.)

Cas carries on.

"Actually, Eileen's friend, Cara, brought her flowers and she suggested I should bring some to you."

"A corsage." Dean realizes out loud, beginning to grin at once, while Sam resorts to ducking his head like an overgrown teenage girl on her way to prom. Doesn't mean that Dean absolutely doesn't put on his best chickflick Dad voice (after he's taken over pinning the flowers to Sam's pocket from Cas, cause he was doing it wrong) and pat the corsage when he says, "Get 'er home by ten."

"The dynamics of that are all wrong." Sam points out with a traditional Sam smirk, and yeah, he's okay.

"The dynamics of your face are all wrong."

"Great comeback, yeah." Sam snorts, and Cas smiles. "Points for effort. I think."

"Whatever, you're the one wearing flowers right now."

"Dean, you wore an ascot on our wedding day."

"Ascot trumps flowers!"

"No, it doesn't." Sam bitchfaces, and Dean turns to Cas, and —

"No, it doesn't."

And Sam lets out a victorious "Hah!", and high-fives a (only slightly) confused looking Cas before pulling him into a sasquatch-sized hug as well, while Dean rewards the entire ordeal with a heartfelt eyeroll and absolutely doesn't look on at two of the most important people in his life while he pretends to be bristled about being ganged up against on his special day as Best Man.

Cas and Sam separate sooner than Dean and he did, and just in time for Jack to poke his head out the church door and remind them they're ready.

Then, Cas leaves to get Eileen, with another big smile and a signed Congratulations at Sam, and a fleeting cheek-kiss for Dean.

Then, Sam and Dean get in position behind the door and Sam refixes his tie.

(Then, Dean has to stage-whisper "Jack!" about seven times before the kid realizes he's being cued — the band had just started playing, he makes it a point to try to explain to Dean afterwards — and the great, wooden doors finally swing open to reveal a beautiful white aisle, and dozens of their friends and family smiling from both sides of it.)

And then, Dean finally walks the kid he's raised and the brother he's saved the World with countless times, down the aisle.

*

(Sam only messes up once in his vows. It's the last verse of Thank You, by Celine Dion.

Rumor has it, it was intentional.

Something about the first time they met.

Dean tells Sam, "You're welcome", the next time he sees him.)

[ladyfogg]

Another Round

Another Round

Fic Summary: You and Colin have been avoiding each other ever since the two of you were interrupted the other night. However, when Mare calls you to come to the bar to pick up Colin, you’re left with no choice but to deal with a very drunk Detective Zabel. Love Exists Masterpost. The Evans Fics Masterpost.

Fic Rating: Mature

Pairing: Colin Zabel/Female Reader

Warnings: Language, mild spoilers

All you want is a quiet evening at home.

The investigation into Erin’s death had shaken everyone to the core in Easttown, and you are no exception. In a place where everyone knows everyone, to have such a sudden and violent crime happen is enough to put the citizens on edge. You are feeling it and you sure as hell know Mare is feeling it. You’ve been doing everything in your power to be there for her and do what she needs but it’s hard since you’re not a full-blown detective. At least, not yet. You hope to be one day once you’ve had enough training and gone through all the proper channels.

For now, you’re content on being Mare’s trainee. Well, more like assistant but technically you’re a trainee. Actually, your exact title is Junior Detective but it makes you feel like you should be wearing a badge made of construction paper attached to your shirt by a safety pin. So you stick with trainee. Though that hasn’t stopped Mare from calling you ‘Junior’. Whether it’s to keep you at arm’s length or she just enjoys annoying the shit out of you, you’re not sure. You assume it’s a little of both.

Anyway, back to the quiet evening thing. You’ve been home for a few hours, settled into your tiny apartment with a slew of snacks and the latest crime docuseries on Netflix when your phone goes off.

You see it’s Mare and immediately pick up. “Hey, everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah everything’s fine.” You can barely hear her over the background nose. Tons of people are talking over each other with loud music thrown into the mix. “Sorry to call you so late but I need you to come down to the bar.”

“Do we have a lead?”

“Not exactly. It’s Zabel.”

Instantly your heart drops and you get to your feet, immediately scouring the floor for your discarded shoes. “Did something happen? Is Colin alright?”

In the background, you hear, “Heeeey, hey, Mare! Is that her? Are you calling her? Lemme talk to her.”

You hear her struggle for a moment before telling him to knock it off. “He’s fine. Just drunk as shit,” she says once she manages to get the phone back from him. “Can you come pick him up and take him home?”

“Oh, um…alright.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No. No, not at all.”

“I just figured since you two—”

“Oh we didn’t end up…we haven’t…” You stop yourself from going any further and embarrassing the both of you. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Ever since Mare interrupted you and Colin about to go at it in his hotel room, things have been more than a little awkward. Despite confessing how much you like each other, neither you nor he has made another move. Before it was spontaneous and a spur-of-the-moment decision, fueled by passion and excitement. By now, you have lost yourself in your own head and you get the sense he has too.

The two of you can’t even make eye contact without him quickly looking away and blushing. It’s adorable, yet incredibly frustrating to say the least. But the case is more important and you’ve been more than happy to forget about the embarrassing incident.

When you get to the bar, you’re faced with a vastly different Colin than you’re used to. The second you walk through the door, he calls your name excitedly and stumbles over, beer in hand.

“Oh my gosh you’re here,” he slurs, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Mare! MARE! She’s here!”

“Yeah, I know, Zabel, I called her.” Mare’s face is as stoic as ever, and yet you can still see the corners of her lips twitch up into an amused smile.

“You wanna shot?” he asks you. “Yeah! YEAH, let’s get shots! Imma get you a shot!”

“No, Colin, I’m good,” you say but he’s already stumbling away. “Colin? Colin! Oi, whatever. How long has he been like this?”

“Since I got here,” Mare says, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Sorry, I thought you two were…I mean, the other night…”

“Nothing happened,” you say. “Since, you know, you interrupted. Things have kind of been awkward and we haven’t really talked about it.”

“Well, he’s certainly in a talkative mood tonight,” Mare says as you both watch Colin flag down the bartender and loudly ask for two shots. “Just make sure he gets back to the hotel in one piece, alright?”

“Will do, boss.”

“Thanks, junior.”

“Ugh, you know I hate it when you call me that.”

She smirks, patting you on the shoulder as she walks by. “I know.”

You make your way through the crowd to the bar where Colin is currently leaning. “Come on, Colin. I’ll take you home,” you say.

“Not before you do a shot with me!” he insists.

“Can’t, I’m driving. Besides, I think you’ve had enough.”

“Come ooooonnnn,” he slurs, nudging you with his shoulder. “Just’the one lil one? Then I’ll go…scout’s honor!”

You can’t help but chuckle, not used to seeing him so carefree and silly. After a moment of contemplation, you ease yourself onto the nearby stool. “Fine. Just the one.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Colin exclaims, sitting next to you. “Shottttsss!”

The bartender slides two shots over and you make a subtle motion for him to cut Colin off. He gives you a nod of acknowledgment, slyly swiping Colin’s half-full beer bottle as he moves on to take care of someone else.

“Okay, okay, okay, we need a toast,” Colin says, handing you one of the shots.

“Oh really? To what?”

“Hmmmmm…” Colin’s face scrunches adorably as he tries to get his drunk mind to think. “How ‘bout to us?”

You raise your eyebrow. “Us?”

Colin leans in close, pressing his forehead to yours, his voice dropping low. “Us. You know, me an’ you.”

“Didn’t know there was a me and you.”

“Could be. Should be. We did almost…you know.” He leans in close to your ear and loudly whispers, “Have sex.”

“Yes, yes we did almost have sex.”

“So?” he gestures with his shot, spilling some in the process. “To us?”

“To us then.”

You clink your shot glass against his before knocking the drink back, trying to hold in a cough as the liquid burns your throat. “Dear god that’s strong.”

“YUP.” Colin slams his shot glass down on the countertop, then winces when he realizes what he did. “Oops. Is’okay. S’not broken.”

“And we’d like to keep it that way,” you say, sliding the glasses off to the side. “So, what you say I take you home?”

“Wait, wait, wait, not yet. Let’s talk.” He puts his hand on your arm to stop you from standing. “We need’a talk.”

“About?”

“I’m sorry about the other night,” he apologizes, head slumping on your shoulder.

“You don’t have to apologize, Colin. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I did. I did. I should’a talked to you about it after but I chickened out.”

“Yeah, well, I could have talked to you too. I guess I also chickened out.”

“Here’sa thing. I jus’…you’re soooo beautiful and I get all tongue-tied around you and say stupid shit and I know you’re going to realize there’s someone better for you, and I just…”

Realizing he was way too far gone to be having such a serious conversation in the bar, you slide your arm around his waist. “Hey, hey, let’s talk about it later, okay? Come on. Let’s get you home.”

“Home’s too farrrr.”

“I meant your hotel room.”

“I don’t like it there. Take me to your place.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I won’t try anything. Swear. I jus’…I don’t wanna go back to my empty hotel room.”

Your heart aches at the puppy-dog eyes he gives you and you find yourself relenting. “Fine. But you’re sleeping on the sofa and I’m not cleaning it up if you get sick all over yourself.”

“Thas’fair.”

You help Colin settle his tab with the bartender and then you escort him out of the bar, your arm still around his waist. His arm goes around your shoulders again but it’s mostly so he can attempt to walk straight. Eventually, you are able to load him into your car before climbing behind the wheel. The shot didn’t do much of anything and with your place being so close, you know you’re okay to drive.

Colin reclines his seat back, shutting his eyes. As you make your way towards home, you’re sure he’s fallen asleep until you hear, “Y’know, y’er really pretty.”

You smile to yourself, keeping your eyes on the road. “Thanks, Colin. I think you’re pretty too.”

“Really???”

“Yes.”

“Ugh, I’m so stupid. Should’a called you for a date the day after all that happened.”

“It’s okay.”

“NO! No is’not. I ghosted you.”

“Colin, I don’t think it’s ghosting if the other person doesn’t reach out to you either.”

“It’s not?”

“Not really. Pretty sure that just ignoring each other.”

“Oh. Okay good. Well, not good we ignored each other. Good you didn’t think I ghosted you. Cuz I would NEVER do that to you.”

“Good to know.”

“And you won’t do that to me. I know you won’t. You’re too sweet. You wouldn’t break up with me two weeks before our wedding.”

Your heart sinks when he says this. Chancing a glance at him, you notice how sad his eyes are. Truth be told, you don’t know much about Colin, mostly because with the intensity of the case, the two of you haven’t had time to properly get to know each other. But his drunk words are way too specific to be a hypothetical scenario.

“Is that what happened to you?” you ask tentatively.

“Yup. Not sure how it happened. Or why. She just woke up and said, ‘hey, I’m not in love with you anymore’. And I’m like ‘s’ok, can I put my bagel down first?’…” he babbles, head rolling to the side so he can look at you. “Jus’ like that. Done. No more.”

You reach over to take his hand. “I’m sorry, Colin. That’s…that’s really shitty.”

“Isn’t it? I mean…I don’t know wha’ happened. But…whatareyou gonna do?” He squeezes your hand and brings it up to his lips so he can place a sloppy kiss on your knuckles. “We’ve been driving for a loooong time.”

“It’s been five minutes.”

“Really?!”

“Just close your eyes. We’ll be there soon.”

“M’kay.”

Not long after, you pull into your driveaway, letting go of his hand so you can park the car and shut it off. You sit there for a minute, admiring his side profile as he lays there with his eyes closed. He is a handsome man. You can stare at him all day. Every time he greets you with that wide smile, your heart skips a beat and your stomach does a little flip-flop thing.

He must feel you staring because he opens his eyes and gives you a crooked smile. “We there yet?”

You smile back. “Yeah, we’re here. Let’s get you inside.”

“Okaaay.”

With you guiding him and doing most of the work, you help Colin up the walkway to your place, pausing now and then when he sways and puts too much weight on you. Once inside, you dump him onto the couch before going back to lock your front door. Briefly, you pause to send Mare a text letting her know you’re both safe, before shutting your phone off and tossing it onto the counter. You shrug out of your coat and shoes before rejoining Colin in the living room where you left him.

“This is a nice place,” he says, sprawled out on the couch with his head nearly hanging off the armrest. “Looks homey.”

“If by homey you mean small, then yeah. It’s real homey. Come on. Sit up so we can get your coat off.”

“Tryin’a strip me down, you saucy minx,” he slurs, leaning forward as you try to pull the long coat off his arms. “I know your game and I accept.”

Laughing softly, you manage to wrestle him out of the coat before he flops backward. “No games tonight, Zabel.”

“Fine but at least a kiss?”

“That’s definitely not a good idea.”

“Jus’a lil one…come on, lil kiss…” he says in a soft voice, trying to lean in. “Jus’a peck. Lil smooch.”

Still laughing, you gently force him to lay back down. “Not while your drunk. Maybe in the morning if you’re feeling better we can have a little smooch.”

“Been thinking about kissin’ you for days,” he admits as you start to untie his shoes for him. “And picturing you on top of me. That was nice. I liked that. Let’s do that.”

You toss him a grin as you slide the shoe off his foot. “Like I said. Maybe…If you’re a good boy.”

His smile widens and he wags his eyebrows. “I’ll be’a good boy for you.”

After ridding him of his other shoe, you tuck a blanket around him. “Sleep it off, Colin. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Wait, wait, wait, don’t go,” he urges, grabbing your hand as you make a move to stand. “Not yet. Don’t go yet. It’s jus’…I wanna talk to you.”

“Okay. About what.”

“Everythin’. Anythin’. LIFE! Let’s talk about life.”

“It is way too late and you’re way too drunk to talk about life.”

“It’s just…the thing is…I’m getting to that age, right? I’m getting to that age where I’m starting to look at my life and I’m going…well, here’s what I thought it would be and…here’s what it actually is…” He throws his hands up with a sigh and a shrug, letting his thought hang there. 

You’re all too familiar with that feeling. And yet, you have no idea how to respond. He’s not the only one looking at his life and wondering what the hell. There you are, living in the same town where you grew up, a detective in training living in a shitty, tiny apartment with neighbors who press their noses to the window every time you set outside. You haven’t had a relationship in years, mainly because you know every single guy in town and have grown up with them. The thought of dating and settling down with any of them does not appeal to you in the slightest. Never did. Not that that’s the only way to live your life but it’s something you would like to do someday. With the right person.

“Am I making any fucking sense?” he asks, more to himself than to you.

“Yeah, yeah, you are.” You reach up to lay a hand on his cheek. “Get some rest, okay. I’ll be just in the other room if you need me.”

“Mmm, okay. Rest sounds good. Sleep good.”

He rolls onto his side, taking your hand with him and almost pulling you across his body. You manage to wiggle free with a chuckle. By the time you get up to shut off the living room light, he’s already snoring.

You have too many questions and not enough answers. This man, this big hero detective that is supposed to help solve the case seems just as lost and alone as you feel. You wonder if that’s why you were drawn together. Two lost, lonely souls who found each other among such darkness.

Too tired to go down that train of thought, you slip away to your room, wondering just how much Colin will remember in the morning.

[siriusmydeer]

hey bestie, how about fluff prompt 10 with ron or harry?😁😁😁

the spiral of weather

ron weasley x reader

summary: you and ron share a rain kiss.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: self doubt, insecurity, swearing, weird teenager awkwardness, swearing, kissing, mentions of being sick

a/n: i hate this, thank u isa for inspo without u i would be crying rn, u can so tell this is rons pov by the amount of times i used the word ‘bloody’

ron he had a problem— not a problem, one might say. instead he had a nagging pronouncement that he couldn’t dismiss no matter how much he desired to do so in that halfwitted mind of his.

he had never felt the emotional wave of burn or passion in his lifetime as a teenager, that was till his eyes were strictly met with yours for the very first time. you’d think an eleven year old could possibly decipher feelings of yearning and endearment but, here we are years later.

books, movies, and even life normally if you were someones best friend the relation between the two parties happened to remain completely platonic. unless you were the cobalt-eyed, red-headed boy who happen to be the youngest son of the weasley family.

then that is in fact, not the case.

across the library you were irritatingly endeavouring cormac mclaggen with charms, attempting to explain how to flick your wand in the correct direction of a cheering charm. he took it upon himself to grab your hand and guide your hands together in the motion of his hand holding your hand, that was grasped on the wand.

classic bloody flirt.

ron was coerced persuaded, by hermione to finally catch up on the arithmancy homework that had been buried beneath his four poster messy bed stuffed in a sweaty quidditch bag. whilst hermione was attempting to explain the newest lesson from the class that ron could not be less bothered with.

his gaze could almost set a ring of fire into cormacs left sleeve on how strict his gaze was. the weather out earlier was ideally sunny, idyllic to hang out with your friends outside and possibly for a swim in the black lake. that was rons plan to pose towards you, maybe harry and hermione as well; but mostly you.

now the sky had ombré shades of washed-out dreary grey and depressing indigo. if the weather channel had existed in wizard culture it definitely would’ve called for overcast and a high percentage of downpour.

but when it came to romance hermione could be a bit numb in the head and decided to whisk him away from you, giving yourself a sweet opportunity for a free day that cormac just swooped right in an took it to his bloody advantage.

he was contemplating— he was contemplating so hard his brain could blow to bits if was possible. i mean he was a wizard after all, what wasn’t possible?

hermione clapped her smooth hands in front of his grimaced face, paying almost no mind to her peers that had glared in her direction from the disruption of noise.

“bloody hell, ‘mione! be anymore subtle would you?” rolling his eyes in the direction of the brunette who offered a ‘hermione scowl’ as ron and harry would say, in response.

“be anymore subtle would you?” she mocked. “you look like your about to go over there and snap his neck for godric’s sake! just talk to her, your so oblivious ronald.” she chastised, completely aware of his feelings towards you.

hermione knew? how would she know? who else knew... did you know? was he to obvious? should he have made a move? his brain could’ve been moving atleast a billion miles a minute on his overwhelming questions surrounding your possible reviprocations of feelings.

he looked at the smirking brunette for a moment, extremely bewildered but her bluntness. he raised a scarlet-brow in thought; if he was feeling gryffindor, reckless and impulsive or ron, some-what sensible and hidden.

he was a gryffindor after all.

getting up from his sear, the chair making a a smell reverberate at the sudden friction between the oak-wood floor and the cherry-coloured chair. clacking his shoes against said-oak floor creating a beeline directly to your sat figure with mclaggen.

your brows creased at the noise, diverting your eyes around the library and seeing the towering redhead walking directly over to you. your eyes widened for a moment, your (e/c) irises perfectly clear for viewing.

before you could even stutter out a word he got a grasp on your forearm, rapidly pulling you out of the library and into the somber courtyard. “merlin, christ, ron! give a girl a damn warning first, nearly gave me a heart attack!” your breath extremely rigid at his swift pace when guiding you away from peering eyes of both of your schoolmates.

“do you like mclaggen?” his voice was sputtered, almost like he said the question before he could even muster it as a thought.

if you’re eyes were wide before, now they looked like they were bulging straight from your eye sockets. “are you drunk? high? under the influence? potioned—“

“answer the question!”

“absolutely not, i would rather have offed myself than have feelings for someone else. plus i’m interested in someone else...” you trailed off in sentence, accidentally letting it slip that you in fact fancy someone.

paying no mind to the fact that you basically had confessed your feelings he nodded his head in a forward direction, offering a walk. you shrugged once before keeping in step with him around the courtyard.

“lavender brown, hmm...?” you offered, attempting to create a conversation with him; possibly making it more awkward.

why would he flip if you liked mclaggen? he was... alright looking, played quidditch, and an alright student. i mean there’s no big deal or anything of a sort.

“oh no, i fancy—“ drop.

oh.

oh?

drop.

it was raining.

“we should probably—“

“err, yeah....”

both of you peering up at the gloom sky above, small raindrops quickly pattering down on the both of you. you sped up your pace as well as ron attempting to get shelter in the downpour that was rapidly approaching as the both of you.

the continuous patter on the ground cause a few absent puddles into curvature of the grass surrounding the castle, causing small muddy hollow patch right beneath your left foot.

“oh!—“ you suddenly spoke, grabbing into the nearest surface your hand could grapple at; rons ashen coloured sweater.

his hands caught onto the curvature of your torso, holding you into a dip-position. one of your hands had grasped onto his bicep and the other on the bend of his muscular shoulder.

“well that was... quick?” clearing your throat awkwardly, looking into the sheen-cobalt irises of your best friend.

“i fancy you.” he spoke briskly, nonchalantly telling you how for the past five years he has been irrevocably besotted with you and essentially how he would die without not mowing if you reciprocated those feelings.

that was a bit melodramatic, but you understand the idea.

“you fan— wow that was fast, i didn’t even get a moment to like— think, maybe?”

oh my god, are you an idiot? i mean, who responded like that, like ever? the boy you had single handedly, pined for just admitted that and you say, ‘wow that was fast.’

he madly spun you onto your feet, both of you completely drenched from the recurrent downpour looking upon both teenagers. clothes anxiously sticking to your skin, and attempting to maneuver you hair behind your face.

“ron, why’d you— why would you want someone like me? i mean have you seen yourself, compared to me? ‘m just— ‘m not good enough.” you trailed between sentences, panting like you were out of immense breath but only overwhelmed trying to differentiate your thoughts.

maybe ron had drank to much butter beer, maybe he had an epiphany, but he was truly not taking no for an answer today and did all the work himself. he clasped both of your cheeks in his freckled palms, forcing your eyesight into his stare.

“have you gone absolutely mad? what do you mean, ‘i’m not good enough.’ i mean you’re one of the smartest people i know! and you’re always helping people, you don’t slap me across the face when i’m stupid most— stupid all the time! i mean i’m a bloody git and you still put up with me, i truly don’t know how, but you do! and y’know you make me want to be a better person and all that bloody crap, but y/n, you are worth it! so don’t tell me you’re not.”

the boy huffed in one sentence, trying to prove your worthiness not only to you but what was standing right in-front of you. not only just ron, but the way this would effect your relationship. after all that, even if you rejected him for his sake, the friendship would never be the same. could you take a risk? put it all on the table, for the first time in your life and possibly make something worth it?

you stood there frozen, but your eyes moved erratically to study his face. his pale ivory flesh, slightly down-turned pointy chin, full salmon-coloured lips. the study could go on, how you memorized every micro-detail of the boys face.

normally the scarlet-haired boy would’ve been the one in doubt; over himself, his peers, his schoolmates, his friends, and most-likely his family. but right now he didn’t have one single doubt in his mind, his only thought was wanting you.

you may not have been godric gryffindor himself, but you were impulsive on decisions, even the ones that you were petrified to make. so you kissed the boy, slotting his slightly chapped lips with your smooth strawberry tasting ones.

feeling the new and odd comforting taste of pumpkin juice, and spearmint bleed onto the curvature of your tastebuds. one of his hands taking a grasp at your hip, kissing you with all the vitality he had left. feeling the blearily daze of adrenaline scamper right through his veins, going immediately to his head.

he was completely, and hopelessly in love with you. the amount of intimacy he felt kissing you beneath a brewing storm was unmatched to anything or anyone else.

you pulled away for a moment, seeing how his lips tried to reattach to yours in such a quick paced moment. you snickered for a moment, the dread leaving your system second by second.

wanting to feel the eternal warmth and happiness the boy granted you, were you still a bit unsure, yes. but ron would spend his last dying breath proving himself to you.

“if we stay kissing in the rain, one of us will catch a cold.” your whisper was barely coherent over the boys pants, and the repetitive rain patter that beveled from the sky.

“i’ll take care of you.” he offered with a slanted smile, his vision bleary from admiration.

“‘course you will.”

of course he will.

taglist: @ronbrokemyheart @georgeswh0re @amourtentiaa @famdomhideout @hufflepogue

[valewright67]

Melizabeth Week, Day Two: Heaven/Hell - Heaven

Fair warning, this is an old one I wrote but never published. I wasn't sure what else to do for it. Also, I apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes.

A bit of OOC with Ludociel

_-_-_-_-_

 "So where should we go first? Now that we're free from the curse. We agreed we'd travel, right? Sooo.... Any ideas?" Meliodas asked, leaning back against Elizabeth. His eyes were closed in bliss as he lay cradled in her arms, back to chest. She was leaning against the headboard on their bed. "Hm… Well, we could return to the celestial village? I've got my memories back now, and… well, that's the closest place to the goddess realm I can get. I'd like to visit. Fly around a land above the clouds once more."

He hummed and turned his head, nuzzling into her collarbone gently. "Sounds good to me. Should we invite any of the others?" Her eyes lit up. "That's a splendid idea! I'm sure Mael would like to visit a place like that too! Zeldris and Gelda as well!" She giggled. "We can invite the rest of the sins, but to be honest? I think they're pretty occupied."

True to her prediction, the sins all declined this time round, citing… alone time. (For Merlin and Gowther, that was literal. They just wanted to be left alone for awhile.) Mael was eager to come, for the same reasons Elizabeth had listed. Zeldris was reluctant, but Gelda convinced him, saying it'd be good for him and Meliodas to spend some quality time together, and she wished to discuss more with Elizabeth.  

By the time the group of five had arrived, the sun was almost rising. "Oh, the spring is refilled! Good, that's convenient! We could have flown, but it would’ve been irritating." Meliodas said. He leaned down by the water and tapped it gently, channeling his energy into opening the portal. An extra burst of goddess magic from Elizabeth by his side, and the familiar glow lit up the pool. He grinned and stood, looking to the other couple. "Zeldris, Gelda. After you."

The black haired demon sighed. "Why do I feel like this is a bad idea?" The blonde smirked. "Because it probably is. Have fun!" 

"...why do I ever trust you?" He grumbled, but dove into the pool anyways, quickly followed by Gelda. Elizabeth smiled at Mael. "You next." He nodded and went without complaint. Elizabeth after him, and Meliodas last, closing the portal behind him.

_-_-_-_-_

Zeldris blinked, adjusting the sudden darkness of the cave as Gelda broke the surface besides him. He swam out and pulled her with him. "Might as well take a look around. They'll be a minute." She nodded and the two walked out of the cave, into the sunlight. 

He almost gasped. The view was incredible. It was stifled though, when he felt a presence of light flying towards him. He was immediately on the defensive and enabled his hellfire with a snarl, whirling around to face the potential threat. 

Goddesses!

Wait… no. These didn't feel like Goddesses. Similar, but off. That's right, they're celestials. Apparently, descended from the heavenly beings who'd once been his mortal enemies. It was hard to remember that now, sometimes. That the war was over, and he had FRIENDS from the other side.

He held his hands up. "Wait, please, I mean you no harm, I swear it!" The bearded man holding a familiar feathered sword scowled. "Like we would believe you, demon! There's only one demon we've ever trusted, and that's not you!" 

Zeldris tried to speak, to explain that he was pretty sure he knew exactly who they were talking about, and that they had nothing to fear from him. “You mean Meliodas, right? I’m-” Before he could complete his sentence, however, the man held the sword up near his throat threateningly. "No lies will spill from your throat before blood, demon scum." Gelda snarled. "How DARE you threaten my husband, you IMPUDENT prick-"

"I am only defending my home from the likes of creatures like you!"

"Remove the sword from my husband's neck!"

"Absolutely not! Either of you make a move, and I slit his throat!"

"MELIODAS IS MY BROTHER!!!"

The man froze and stared at him, before scowling suddenly. "You lying scum-"

"Hey, hey, hey! How about we all calm down, now!" Mael said, emerging from the cave entrance, arms raised placatingly. "There's no need for figh…ting… is that my sword??" He gaped at it. "I haven't seen that thing in 3000 years! This is where it's been the whole time??" 

The Celestials didn't say a word, too stunned at the sudden appearance of a GODDESS, when they were supposed to be wiped out. And not only a goddess, but apparently the first wielder of their most sacred sword. He shook his head. "Um, well anyways. My names Mael, I'm one of the four archangels. That's Zeldris and Gelda. They're not gonna hurt you, the five of us just came for for visit."

"Five? Where's the other two?" By now a small crowd had gathered. The trio blinked as a small blonde man, looking eerily like Meliodas, were it not for the wings on his back, walked forwards. A woman looking near identical to Elizabeth by his side. Mael blinked and smiled. "I'd think they were right in front of me, if I didn't know any better, but they should be here in just a moment. They came through the portal last."

The two exchanged looks. Did he mean…? "Yo, Solaad!" Sure enough, the blonde demon who'd saved them during the time of ruin came up through the cave. "Why are you all terrorizing Zelly?" (A scowl at the nickname was directed at him, but he just smirked at the younger.) "He won't hurt anyone, I promise."

"Hello, Elatte. And everyone else too! It has been quite a long while, hasn't it?" Elizabeth spoke, walking up behind Meliodas with her wings folded neatly against her back.

…wait.

Wings??

"Meliodas? E-Elizabeth? Since when did you get WINGS??" Solaad asked. Elatte glanced at the older man. "Sir Zoria, please drop the sword, Meliodas himself said that this man means no harm."

Elizabeth gave a soft smile. "It's complicated. I've always had them, in a way, as I was born a goddess in my first life. But I was cursed by the demon king to reincarnate as a human for the rest of time, and if I should ever get my memories back, I would die in three days." She fluttered her wings gently. "We managed to break the curse, after 3000 years and 107 lifetimes."

"...who's 'we?' And why did the demon king curse you, what did you DO??" Zoria asked. She laughed. "Well. His firstborn son and I fell in love." She gestured to Meliodas, who had drifted over to Zeldris and thrown an arm over his shoulder, apparently teasing him in demon tongue, much to the younger's displeasure. Zeldris was almost visibly bristling, and his face was red.

“Meliodas is the son the demon king??” Solaad almost yelled, gaining the two demons' attention. “I mean, yes?” Meliodas said, arm still around Zeldris’s shoulders. “Though the previous demon king is dead now, we killed pops. I’m not exactly the current demon king's son.”

Mistress Vaness hobbled forwards. “Who could possibly have the power necessary to take the place of a god?” Meliodas and Zeldris blinked, looked at each other and back at her. “We share the burden.” They said together. She gaped. “You mean…?” They smirked. “Yep! Zeldris is my younger brother. We have the same blood, which makes it easier to share the role of demon king.” 

“Meli is, technically, the stronger by default. But we split the demon king's power and influence 50/50. He just had a more powerful base. Not by much though.” Zeldris added on. 

Meliodas ruffled his hair fondly, and Zeldris swatted him off, retreating to Gelda’s side.  The blonde laughed and drifted back over towards Elizabeth. Mael was just. There. He was still looking at the sword. “Where did you all even get that?” He asked, baffled. The Celestials all exchanged looks and Elatte smiled at him. Solaad took the sword. “Come, we will show you.” They took off and flew down towards a temple. The group followed them.

Elatte gestured up at the magnificent murals. "The legend says that 3,000 years ago, a dark haired goddess in flowing robes accompanied the great Oshiro when Sealing away the demons on our island. He gave us the sword right before his body was spent."

She pointed to a section along the side. “All he said was: ‘I cannot bear to look at this blade any longer. Perhaps it will protect you all better than it did my brother.’ And then he was gone, simple as that. We have passed it down, generation to generation. It is because of Solaad figuring out that it could be used to seal away demons that we are all still alive.”

Mael flew up towards the mural, gazing at the depiction of the goddess. “His name was Ludociel. He was my older brother. There was a forbidden spell cast that changed the memories of everyone in the world, including that of the gods. It made it seem as though I had been killed by Estarossa, one of three demon princes. In reality, Estarossa never existed. I was transformed into him, and false memories were implanted in everyone’s head, including mine. I had no idea that I was actually Mael.” He gave a small smile. “The memories are all still there, though. It is strange. I am both Mael of Sunshine, one of the four archangels, younger brother to Ludociel of Flash. And also, I’m Estarossa, second of the three demon princes, Commandment of Love. It is… strange. I don’t fit in anywhere anymore. Not really.”

Meliodas and Zeldris exchanged glances and flew up next to him. “Mael.” Zeldris started, quietly. “For a moment in time, even without the false memories, you were still our brother.” Meliodas grinned. “Yeah! You may not be Estarossa, but, like you said, he never existed in the first place. He was made up. But you are Mael, and we may as well count you as our brother. Even if you did kill me.” He smirked and the goddess gave a strained chuckle. “Thank you.” He murmured, drifting back down to the ground. Meliodas slapped his shoulder, and Zeldris nudged his side in an unspoken display of commadry. 

He turned and looked to Solaad. “The sword belongs to your people now, I accept that. But… Would you permit me to wield it once more?” The blonde nodded and held the sword out to him. He took it gratefully, feeling the familiar weight of it. He twisted it around, reacquainting himself with it.

He walked outside into the clearing and took a deep breath, centering himself. He thrust the sword up towards the sun, channeling its energy, and he spoke. “Huius bring animam suam. Iterum ego volo loqui cum eo.” The sword lit up, and a beam of light shot out of it. He grunted. “Permitte mihi vedere!” He removed a hand and pointed it forward. The beam of light connecting him to the sun moved through him and flowed out of his hand. A silhouette started to form, flickering. He pushed his hand a little bit farther forward, and more light and magic poured out of him. “Emerge.”

The silhouette solidified. A goddess stood there, blinking and looking confusedly at his hands and then around him. His eyes landed on Mael, and then the stream of light that flowed to him and formed his body. A glimmer of understanding crossed his face, and he looked back up, meeting his brother's gaze.

“Mael… Hello, little brother. What are you doing?” He smiled kindly. Mael gave him a slightly strained grin. “Hi Ludociel. I missed you, I wanted to see you again.” The dark haired goddess softened a little and walked forward, caressing the side of his face. “I have missed you too, all these years. You cannot keep this up for long, however. Manifesting a soul takes up a lot of magic, and you’re going to burn yourself out.” Mael leaned into his palm. “I know, but… my sword… I can channel more magic through it, and I just. I needed to talk to you again. I needed to tell you how sorry I was, Luce...” 

He shushed him. “None of that, Mael. There is nothing to forgive. You’re my little brother, and I love you. I understand.” He glanced around again. “So you made your way to the Celestial’s island. I remember giving them your sword. I couldn’t stand seeing it without you there everyday. I just wanted to get rid of it. I’m a little impressed they’ve kept it in such good shape all these years. Heaven knows most of the rest of our weapons were damaged or destroyed over the centuries.”

Mael wobbled a little, and Ludociels image faded. His hand was clasped on his older brother's shoulder, channeling the magic directly into him. He grunted and forced himself to straighten, Ludociel’s body solidifying again. He gave him a sad smile. “You have to let me go, Mael. Before you hurt yourself.” “No! I’m not, I’m not done talking to you yet, there’s so much I need to say!” He grunted again, the magic taxing on him. Ludociel was about to force him to stop, when two beams of pure magical energy hit his back, reinvigorating him. He turned to look, and Zeldris and Meliodas were lending their power to him. 

“He’s our brother too, in a way.” Meliodas said. Zeldris finished the thought. “He deserves to get to talk to you, after everything.” With the extra influx of magic, Ludociels form started to glow. He could almost feel his body again. Elizabeth walked forwards. “Ludociel… I can do this for you, at least.” He blinked, almost surprised to see her here. She pressed one hand over his forehead, and another over his chest. She inhaled deeply, eyes closed. On the exhale, she spoke. “Revertere ad vita.” His eyes widened. Return to life. 

Her hands glowed with a brilliant light, and he could feel a true body forming around him. She groaned, drawing on her reserves. Gelda scowled and whirled around to the celestials. “You all have light magic! Give her some of yours!”

They were frozen, but Elatte stepped forwards and lifted her hands, pointing at Elizabeth’s back. “All of our power into one! Heal!” A beam of green light shot out of her hands and into Elizabeth. The other celestials were quick to follow her example.

She gathered the influx of energy and pushed it into him. A blinding light filled the clearing, and when it faded, Ludociel was actually there, kneeling on the ground, naked as the day he was born. Though, Elizabeth supposed that made sense, considering he had just been reborn, in a way. Mael dropped the sword and stumbled forward, clinging to him tightly. Ludociel hugged him back. 

“...May I please have something to cover up with?” He asked. Mael laughed and took off the topcoat of his robe, wrapping it around him. Ludociel buttoned it up, silently thanking that it was long, and reached to his ankles.

Mael stood, and helped him to his feet, the two leaning on each other for support. Meliodas had already gathered Elizabeth up, and was holding her while she regained her energy. The two murmured gently back and forth. Gelda and Zeldris were doing the same not too far away.

"Mael…" He started. "Thank you, little brother." The light haired goddess grinned and leaned in to hug him once more. "I missed you, big brother." Ludociel smiled and stroked his hair. "We can talk later. For now, let's just enjoy the moment."

"Elizabeth… How did you do that? Even with all of our energy, we cannot bring someone back to life. So how is that with you performing the spell, it was successful?" Solaad asked, picking up the sword. She smiled a little. "I honestly had no idea that would work. I hoped, of course, but I had no way of knowing for sure."

Ludociel barked out a tired laugh. "You are far too modest, Lady Elizabeth." He turned to the gathered celestials. "She is more powerful than even I or Mael are at our strongest, when she wishes to be. Her healing powers far surpass even the best of our other healers. She is able to remove the darkness from even Indura’s, and has done so before, purifying two Indura demons at the same time. Her formal title is Elizabeth Lightbringer." He gave a small smirk as he added on one more tidbit of information. "Daughter of the Supreme Deity."

Gasps echoed through the crowd, and Elizabeth sighed. "Please, it's really not that big of a deal-" "But it is, Elizabeth." Mael said, with a brilliant smile. "Of the goddesses, you are second in power and ability only to your mother. In the rest of the world. Well. You married your equal." He nodded his head at Meliodas, who returned it with a smirk. 

The two brothers walked off, shooting the crowd and, specifically, the demons and Elizabeth, grateful smiles. Meliodas clapped and rubbed his hands, wings taking shape on his back. "I'm hungry. I'll catch a sky fish, and you'll teach me how to cook one. Deal? Deal!" He flung off the ground and Elizabeth bristled, bolting after him. "YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO COOK, YOU'LL POISON US!!" He just cackled. 

[lovelyirony]

hi hello i am feeling very angsty so: rhodeytony ft tony's worrying lack of interest in avoiding getting kidnapped and his bodyguard rhodes' increasing stress levels to save a boss that doesn't want to be saved (and, if the flutter in his heart should be anything to go by - should not be his boss anymore). bodyguard to lovers??

Rhodey is a good bodyguard. Hell, he’s the best. 

That was why Pepper Potts hired him, after all. He’s not easy to fool, can follow anyone with a dogged determination that nearly defies human nature. He’s had successful stories before with glowing reviews from multiple people from all different threatened backgrounds. 

(Including at least three world leaders and a pope.) 

Tony Stark is...new. Well, nearly new. He’s a businessman, which isn’t anything out of the ordinary for Rhodey to deal with. 

…except Tony’s highly eclectic, a billionaire, and purposely makes his behavior as erratic as possible. 

It’s fun. What can Rhodey say? He loves a challenge, and Tony is about as challenging as they come. 

-

When he first starts, Tony tries every trick in the book. Rhodey still sticks to him, although he does leave some distance. Tony tries to make him uncomfortable by bringing just about everyone who looks home, and all Rhodey says is, “you gonna feed them cereal when they wake up? Because that’s all you have in your pantry right now, and you don’t pay me to do the shopping.” 

Tony scowls at that, and then changes his strategy. 

-

It’s an odd strategy. 

Tony decides he will just make Rhodey his friend, starting with the nickname of “Rhodey.” 

“That’s stupid,” Rhodey says, because he can already tell it will stick. 

“Not my problem, just my solution,” Tony grins. “Now come on, we’re getting burgers.” 

They’re at a sit-down restaurant. One of Tony’s favorites, actually. Rhodey is not sure why he’s sitting down across from the man with the most influence in the world, but he is. 

“So, what’s new with you? Who are you?” Tony asks. “Pepper sent me your file. You’re from Philly, right?” 

“Oh my god, you sound weird when you say it like that,” Rhodey says, deciding against formality as he basically tells Tony Stark that he sounds weird and shouldn’t say “Philly.” 

“Oh what, is that not what the locals call it?” 

“I’m going to take you there and they’re going to beat you up.” 

“Not the worst Sunday night I’ve ever had,” Tony mentions. “Hey, look at the menu. I don’t want you to flounder when the waitress shows up and you know fuck-all about what they have to offer.” 

“Okay asshole, any recommendations?” 

“The banana milkshake and bacon-burger.” 

Rhodey looks at the menu. 

He does end up with the bacon-burger, but chooses strawberry for his flavor of milkshake. 

“You traitor.” 

“Oh am I? Well then let me tell Pepper that you stole the last good pen she had then-” 

Tony flings a fry at him, and Rhodey laughs. 

- 

Here’s a concerning thing: Tony has a very “c’est la vie” approach about kidnapping. 

Like he genuinely doesn’t really give a shit if he knows what’s going on, or even if he doesn’t. 

Rhodey was eagle-eyed and chased a van three fucking blocks and caught up to the driver, wherein he punched his lights out and got Tony out. His hands were bound in zip-ties and his suit was rumpled, but Tony just blinked at him. 

“You think you broke a racing record with that?” 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did they take anything?” 

Rhodey’s all over Tony, checking for any injuries, any stolen wallets or watches, and thank god everything is there. (Not that Tony would really care if anything was stolen, save for his sunglasses. He spends far too much on those, in Rhodey’s opinion.) 

“Okay geez,” Tony says, batting Rhodey’s hands away. “I’m fine. These people were amateurs. Shit, I’m running late for my consultation meeting, aren’t I?” 

“You just got kidnapped,” Rhodey says, tone rife with disbelief. “You just got taken and your concern is with the consultation meeting?” 

“Well I figured that you were going to come by or I’d be gone a lot longer, but now that I’m not? Yeah. Yeah, I am concerned with the consultation meeting. It’s a tech start-up company, only not that shitty Silicon-nice-guy start-up. It’s a more inclusive thing. I don’t know, I read their little ‘about’ section on their website. Which needs work. But that’s besides the point.” 

Rhodey just follows, dumb in disbelief. 

The few rare times that previous clients have been kidnapped or even attempted, they’ve needed a day to recuperate at minimum. They were shaken up, and usually beefed up the security for the rest of time after it. They also scheduled therapy appointments. 

Tony treated this like it was a traffic jam and he was only running five minutes behind. 

- 

The second time it happens when Rhodey’s there, it lasts a little longer. 

Rhodey has to admit, he maybe did some...under-the-radar looks. The FBI wasn’t moving fast enough, and the legal channels weren’t up to snuff. And besides, Tony did say that he could use Jarvis if he really wanted to. 

(Turns out they both went to MIT at the same time, and Tony had been that obnoxiously short guy in his econ class that rarely showed up, but when he did he showed up in a suspiciously nice outfit.) 

It was a weekend. Rhodey had gone away for two seconds to get a drink for Tony and then he was gone. 

It was...bad. 

The problem is this: 

Tony definitely doesn’t need to be kidnapped as often as he is. He has so many inventions that can prevent that, he’s sold quite a few of them to the military. 

But for some fucking reason, he doesn’t want to be saved. No, he’s content just going along with what’s happening, even though everyone else around him wants him back. Needs him back. 

He finds him bruised and tied up to a shitty folding chair. 

“Hey darling,” Tony says, lips a bloody red. “Can you believe this chair? I would’ve thought they would at least have gotten something a tad nicer. I am their best-dressed guest, after all.” 

Rhodey looks over the torn shirt and the pants that have all but been shredded. His shoes are battered and stained beyond repair. 

“Don’t,” Rhodey says. He sounds tired. He is tired. “Don’t do this.” 

“Don’t do what, get kidnapped? I hardly try,” Tony snaps. “Or do I just have a sign on my back that you didn’t know was there?” 

“You know I was in the Air Force,” Rhodey snaps back. “I got high enough clearance that I was one of the guys who got to see what brand new toy you sent our way. I know you could use any of those, shit, you probably tested it out, so you would know.” 

“And your point?” Tony asks. “What, you’re saying I should know better? Saying you know better than me?” 

“You know what? Yeah, yeah I am saying that,” Rhodey yells as he’s untying him. “I am fucking saying that I know more than you because you couldn’t give less of a shit if you tried about your own well-being! You were kidnapped and I’ve been running myself ragged trying to get you back, and you just don’t care!” 

Tony stares at him. Really stares at him. 

“Let’s go home.” 

Nothing else is said in the car ride home. Tony can’t even look at Rhodey. 

They go home, where Pepper greets Tony with a hug and makes him swear not to leave again, and Tony says “I promise,” only they both know that he’s lying. 

But they’re not calling him out on it yet. No, not tonight. 

- 

Rhodey stays. Technically he doesn’t have to. Jarvis is the most advanced artificial intelligence system in the world. Hell, he’s the only one that’s even in his league, but Rhodey just...feels better staying. 

And Tony’s mansion is a gargantuan structure with about twenty different rooms to choose from, so Rhodey gets a nice view and tries to go to bed. 

He’s never gotten enough sleep. He knows he never would. That’s why the army loved him: he could be up at any hour and he’d be fine. That’s why his dad called him the bane of his existence in a loving manner: Rhodey would be up at four in the morning filling out the crossword before anyone else could. 

He’s up at four a.m. making breakfast. 

Tony’s pantry is still shit, but it looks like Pepper went shopping for him or had someone else do it, because he actually has eggs and juice and actual food instead of the odd pickle jar or way-too-old yogurt. 

“You’re...up,” Tony says. 

Rhodey turns around. 

“Sorry. I, um. Stayed.” 

“It’s fine,” Tony says awkwardly. “What are you making?” 

“Omelet.” 

“I always mess those up,” he says. “Either too much cheese or I forget I’m cooking it.” 

“You want one?” 

“You gonna make me one?” 

“Accidentally cracked one too many eggs, so yes. You want onions and spinach in yours?” 

“Sure,” Tony says. “What are you doing up?” 

“Always bad at sleeping,” Rhodey answers. “Can never really stay asleep for too long.” 

“Forget to take your melatonin gummies?” Tony answers, grinning. 

Rhodey can see a bruise on his collarbone. 

“You sleep okay?” 

“No, but I rarely ever do,” Tony says. “Especially after yesterday’s fiasco.” 

“You mean the whole weekend,” Rhodey says, putting the rest of the eggs into the pan. “Can’t imagine that was fun.” 

“Oh come on, it was a ball,” Tony answers sarcastically. “They let me play cops-and-robbers and I was given pizza. Clearly it was a fantastic time.” 

Rhodey stares at Tony. 

“You know in the contract that I had you sign it specifically states that you have to let me help you, right?” 

“It says you have to rescue me regardless of feelings or previous obligations,” Tony says. 

“Rescuing you doesn’t just mean I chase after vans and track you down in an abandoned warehouse, it means that I rescue you from those situations before they can happen. But I can only do that if you agree that you won’t get kidnapped,” he says. 

“And what, I want to?” Tony asks. “Do I say that?” 

“You don’t have to,” Rhodey says, flipping the omelet over. “You never think you’re worth rescuing it because you think you’re never going to be good enough and I think you think that you owe me for giving a shit.” 

Tony looks at him. 

“You’re really honest.” 

“I try to be.” 

“I love that about you.” 

Rhodey’s hand shakes slightly as he moves the omelet a bit in the pan. He hopes Tony doesn’t notice. 

“Well I would love it if you stopped being kidnapped.” 

“Aye aye, Colonel Rhodes,” Tony says, saluting. Rhodey rolls his eyes. 

“Oh my god, do not.” 

“What, am I not supposed to thank our armed services for making this country safe?” he mocks, standing up. “For going above and beyond the call of patriotism and helping keep Americans everywhere safe?” 

Rhodey threatens to eat his omelet when he breaks into singing the national anthem. 

- 

There’s an...understanding. 

Tony starts taking up training with Happy and almost agrees to regular training with Rhodey until Rhodey wants him to get up at six and do some workouts, and he yells “No!” after one workout session. 

Rhodey pointedly pretends like he’s not staring at Tony’s chest when he lifts up his shirt to wipe away the sweat. 

“Come on Rhodey my darling, let’s do breakfast.” 

Tony dragging him to breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. It’s...nice. Rhodey ignores it when Tony waggles his eyebrows as he takes the check and calls him “darling, honey, baby,” and he lets him because it sounds nice. 

He doesn’t say anything to Tony. No, you can’t date your boss. It’s unprofessional as hell and Tony probably is just doing it because Rhodey’s in close proximity and they have a good banter going. 

- 

The next time that Tony has an attempted kidnapping, Rhodey is there. 

He’s there, and he’s being taken away, dragged from Tony, and Tony for the first time looks terrified. 

Rhodey tries to struggle, tries to do anything, because Tony has to get away, and he...

He’s knocked unconscious. 

-

When he wakes up, his head hurts worse than it ever has, and for a moment he’s pissed at Tony because he forgets that he’s been kidnapped and there’s no control over the thermostat because the room is hot as all get out. 

And then he sees Tony across from him, and he’s never seen Tony angry. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, voice shaking. “I’ll get us out of here. I promise. I’m sorry.” 

“Not your fault we have assholes take us,” Rhodey says. “But god I would kill for some air conditioning.” 

Tony smiles a bit at that. 

- 

Here’s a problem: you cannot give Tony Stark anything if you want him to not escape. Either that or he has to be unconscious because he’s a stubborn son of a bitch. 

And they used actual handcuffs to keep him there. God, what a joke. 

Tony learned how to break out of handcuffs when he was twenty and chained to a bedpost on accident. (Long story.) 

This is nothing. 

But the problem is that Rhodey’s here. His bodyguard who really shouldn’t be putting his life on the line for someone as shitty as Tony, but here they are, and he has to get him out. 

“Follow my lead,” Tony whispers. 

“Well of course I will, who else has as much experience being kidnapped as you?” Rhodey mutters. 

“Okay is now going to be the time where you sass me? You’re here too. I could leave you.” 

“You’re not gonna do that, Pepper would make you come back.” 

“No she wouldn’t.” 

“Yeah she would!” 

“Not after I tell her that you used the last of her salad dressing.” 

“Shit.” 

Tony snorts, looking at the room. They don’t have security cameras, which is just...questionable. Oh my god, he got kidnapped by amateurs. 

He’s kind of embarrassed. 

Rhodey gets free, and they’re both headed towards a door, and Rhodey picks up a stray part of a metal pole, and Tony cannot lie and say he’s not intrigued by that. 

Not saying he hopes Rhodey gets to use it. 

He’s just curious how he’ll utilize it. 

- 

They get to just. Walk out. They fucking walk out. What kind of people did they get kidnapped from? It can’t be that easy, can it? 

It can’t be...

It is. 

Okay sure Tony is driving in a hotwired car and they’re being shot at, but all things considered that’s not the worst thing. And the truck is probably considered stolen anyways, and once Tony makes it to the highway, it’s not like they’ll be able to follow without making it onto national news, not that they haven’t already. 

Pepper’s very effective at getting things to trend on national news when she wants to. 

- 

Rhodey is sitting on a beach chair. He shouldn’t be, and he also shouldn’t be drinking a mimosa because it’s four p.m. and definitely the morning, but he figures since he got kidnapped he’s allowed at least one mimosa. 

“So. Your first kidnapping?” Tony asks. “All things considered, yours went well. I think next time we should go to Wendy’s or something, I was starving-” 

“I’m just. I’m glad we’re okay,” Rhodey says. “But yeah. Maybe next time. If there is a next time. I’m going to I think make you hold hands with me so that you don’t get napped by terrible, shitty people.” 

“You could’ve just asked to hold my hand, we didn’t need to be kidnapped together,” Tony says. 

“Hm, is that a breach of contract?” Rhodey teases. 

“Only if Pepper decides to enforce it, and she won’t because you’re the first bodyguard to have an actual success story with me,” Tony says. “So. I’m thinking maybe we skip the kidnapping next time and go straight for dinner.” 

“Oh thank god, I thought you were gonna say a fast food restaurant.” 

“I still could, you don’t know,” Tony grins, winking. “What if our first date is to Burger King? What are you gonna do?” 

“Be mad that I still like you,” Rhodey grumbles. 

Tony cackles, dropping a kiss onto his hand. 

“Do you think I should get another bodyguard or will dragging you away during a party be too awkward for them?” 

“...I’ll think about it.” 

(They don’t get a new bodyguard. 

No matter how much the other security complains that Rhodey’s the only one who knows where Tony is at all times, and they can’t exactly ask them if they’re busy doing...things. 

Rhodey finds it hilarious.) 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Tell Me Everything

Follows Found Out, Akio, Chris Sees, and I’m Here

CW: References to murder, suicide, grief, pet whump, abduction, whump of a minor, ableism, Oliver Branch manages to be creepy even now in brief reference

He’s shorter than Ben thought he would be.

Ben sees him first, but, like of course he does - Akio Nakamura isn’t exactly famous but he has his own youtube channel and is like an Olympic-level athlete, so he’s pretty fucking recognizable... if you’ve spent two days scrolling through every Instagram photo of him on three different accounts that you can find. 

Ben showed up thirty minutes early, because Ben has never been late to a fucking thing in his life and something tells him this is maybe one of the most important things he’ll ever do, even though he doesn’t quite know why. 

Something about it keeps picking at his mind, taking it apart, unraveling him with the reality that someone fucking cared about Chris, before whatever happened. Chris doesn’t remember much, and Ben and Laken had done the googling and searching and shit, trying to get some idea of what the hell could have happened to make someone like Chris - bouncy and full of sunshine optimism even on his bad days - end up at a place like WRU.

They’d found nothing a first. But Ben hadn’t known what he was looking for, then. Now that he knows what to look for, he can’t stop finding things. He feels like a detective or someone who has lost his mind, desperately piecing together a life that was interrupted, like someone disappearing mid-sentence, and Ben is following a trail of the words he said before. 

He finds human-interest stories from ten years ago, digitized articles from old community newspapers. He finds more photos from the gym, photos where the redheaded boy is in the background, or in the front always looking slightly off to one side, rarely smiling for the camera but happy to smile as long as he didn’t have to look right at it.

He finds out Veronica Higgs, murdered in the double-homicide that had destroyed the life of Tristan Higgs, had a facebook page, and it’s marked as In Memorial. So is her husband’s, but Paul Higgs’s page is private and his profile photo is a meme that hasn’t been a thing since…

Since they died.

Something about that makes his throat close up as he scrolls Ronnie’s last few public updates, the scattering of people who have left comments saying they miss her, they’re thinking of her, they hope she’s in a better place. Comments are left on the last post like clockwork, once a year, by the same few people. 

Thinking of you today, Ronnie. 

Saw your favorite bird today!

Hope you and Tris and Paul are happy wherever you are now, Ronnie. I take comfort in knowing you’re still together.

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Ronnie!

Left flowers for you today, Ronnie. Jennifer did a routine this year that uses some of Tristan’s music, we’re always thinking of you!

Thinking of you

Miss you

Hope you three are happy together

Miss you, big sister, always.

One day I’ll stop leaving comments like you’re still here. I was watching the old videos and gosh, I couldn’t help but think how proud we were of our boys back then! Rest in peace. Give Tris a kiss for me. That’s Aimi Nakamura, that’s Akio’s mom. Her profile photo is her with her arms around Akio himself, wearing his leotard and holding up a medal with a bright smile, and a younger teenager who must be his little sister - she’s just wearing regular clothes. Feeling like a stalker, Ben opens the mom’s facebook page in a new tab. He absolutely does not look at the photos of Akio she’s posted. He does not do that at all.

He might do that later.

For now he goes back to Ronnie’s page, sees that her last post was brief, something about looking for a recipe, crowd-sourcing. Tris asked to try baked oysters, isn’t that funny? Only my kid, I swear. He’d said seafood is ‘slime’ except for tuna since toddlerhood, but no, this week he wants oysters. He said he wanted to try something new for once and he might as well go as far from the usual as he could get. I

One of the joys of all of this is how when he gets something in his head, I just go with him, and we see what’s on the other side of the jump, right? Watch him spit it right back out. 

It’s fucking ordinary. 

She posted it a couple days before she was murdered.

That doesn’t seem fair, does it? He just can’t wrap his head around it. She was a good mom taking care of her kid, she got some recipe ideas... but then she never cooked any of them because she just… died?

She died, and Tristan’s - Chris’s - dad died, and then there just wasn’t anybody? There wasn’t anybody to take care of a kid who couldn’t take care of himself yet? Nobody at-fucking-all, to keep Tristan safe and loved when the people who loved him the most were gone? 

How the hell did he go from placed in the care of relatives to just... gone? How did he go from gone to a rescued runaway pet with a new name and a new life? What happened in all that gray space in-between?

Ben blinks back tears.

Whatever it was... could that happen to Jamey? Ben’s whole family has built their existence on holding his little brother together through the ways the world wants to shred everything about him. He’s spent nearly all the life he remembers with his brother’s hand closed in the fabric of his shirt, shadowing him through the world, reminding him that you can’t trust everybody, not everyone has good intentions. 

Ben doesn’t even have to think before he’s moving in front of him to block out the noise and chaos of the world that Jamey just can't filter the way Ben can. He knows that when - hopefully forever from now - their parents die, Jamey’s going to move in with Ben. 

It’s never been a question. He doesn’t want it to be a question.

But... what if Ben wasn’t there? What would happen to Jamey if his Mom and Dad were gone, and nobody was there who wanted to keep Jamey safe? He can’t stop thinking about it. He cycles around and around, and Laken called him yesterday and said not to talk to Chris for a few days, that he saw the video and he’s not okay, and Ben’s not fucking okay, either, is he?

This could happen to Jamey.

Someone could see him, alone and vulnerable, and think, no one will stop me and he can’t stop me either, and then Jamey could disappear and then just not be Jamey anymore, and there wouldn’t be anyone to save him-

Ben looks up from his phone without focusing on anything, sniffing back the pain, the tight feeling in his chest at the idea of his little brother, disappearing into some dark hallway and never coming back. Just some photos on Instagram, a video of two, some mentions on somebody’s In Memorial Facebook page, that’s all that’s left of his silly, serious, annoying, funny little brother?

Like someone turned out the light on Jamey’s life and the world just forgets him, because his family isn’t there to keep him safe and Jamey can’t always tell who you can trust and who you can’t, and… and Chris can’t either, can he?

He just wants to think the best of everyone, he forgives everyone who hurts him so easily, so quickly, like it’s second-nature, like...

Did Tristan Higgs want to think good things about whoever did this, whoever had him erased, whoever handed him off to be turned into one of those blank empty-eyed dolls celebrities and rich people drag around? Did Tristan Higgs trust the person who gave him away to be erased, because he didn’t know not to?

Who the fuck bought him?

How did it all fucking happen?

The bell chimes. Akio Nakamura is right on time.

And he’s short.

He’s got a natural almost-smile on his face at all times, a hint of tan to his skin even now in the early spring, wearing a thin gray hoodie, unzipped over a plain white t-shirt and blue jeans. His muscles aren’t visible, like this, but Ben has seen the videos and knows they’re there, the body of a trained athlete hidden under casual clothing. His hair isn’t as short as it is when he competes, in the videos Ben has already watched over and over entirely for research purposes. It’s a little longer, starting to flop over his forehead.

Dark eyes scan the interior of the store, and Ben raises one hand to catch his attention.

The smile brightens, briefly, with a quick nod - like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, Ben feels that smile as a physical warmth in his chest - and he pushes the rest of the way inside, walking straight over. 

“Hey,” Akio says, and his voice is a little deeper than it seems in the youtube videos where he narrates, and Ben, for one shining moment, completely forgets how to speak his own fucking native language.

His mouth opens and nothing comes out - except maybe kind of a croak, which, please let that not have been audible - and he clears his throat, waiting for his brain and his body to remember how to work together. “Uh… um, h-hey,” He says, finally, and shifts uncomfortably. “You’re-... right. I’m, um. I’m Ben.”

“Yeah. I, I figured, you look just like your profile photo.” Akio laughs a little, dropping into a seat cross from him, sitting casually and letting his eyes roam over the mostly-empty interior of the shop, painted with bright colors and lined with posters about ice cream. 

Ben could not possibly have picked a worse place for a professional athlete to go to… meet and talk about his dead friend, could he? Oh, God. Oh he’s a fucking moron. “Right. Uh, sorry, I couldn’t-... when you asked to meet on the phone, I kind of blanked and this was the only place I could think of-”

“Hey, that’s all right. I like coming here, when I’m off from competing. It’s been a while. Hope you don’t mind if I stick with an iced coffee today, though, I’m not feeling ice cream.” Akio grins at him, and Ben’s knees might buckle if he wasn’t sitting down already. The smile takes over his entire face, lights it up, and it reminds him so much of Chris when he’s really happy, the way Chris smiles with his entire fucking body, not just his mouth. 

“Yeah, it’s… no problem, I’ll order, I picked here, anyway. Just the iced coffee?” 

“Yeah, please. Also, I should warn you - my mom is lurking across the street faking an interest in whatever they sell at Paisley Poses and she’ll probably stop pretending she’s not here and show up before we’re done. She’s… uh. Well, get the stuff, and then I’ll, um, I’ll explain.”

“Right. Got it.” Ben’s grip on his phone is white-knuckled as he stands up, aware of every movement of his body as he walks - and he walks normally, right? Not, like weird? It’s not like Akio is watching him walk anyway, probably - over to the cash register. The cashier, whose hair is dyed a pale faded sort of seafoam green, almost the color of those weird mint shakes you can buy from McDonald’s in April, takes his order with a flat affect, unbothered, uncaring.

Ben doesn’t know what he orders for himself. His mouth moves and words come out and then he realizes he doesn’t know what he just said. 

Whatever it is, he pays for it.

He takes the little number-on-a-stick, and carries it back to the table to wait. 

“Iced coffee it is,” He says a little breathlessly. “Um, it’ll be just a sec. They’ll bring it out with my… with mine.”

Shit, what the fuck did he even order for himself?

“No problem.” Akio’s eyes move over his face, considering. He’s sitting slouched a little, but it doesn’t look quite natural - like his posture is usually so much better and he’s trying to look like everyone else. Ben’s eyes are drawn to his hands, folded over his stomach, over wrinkled white shirt fabric. He has a blood-bruise under one thumbnail.

What a weird fucking thing to notice about someone.

“I-I don’t really know where to start,” Ben admits, slouching himself. He runs his fingers over the textured case of his phone, a charcoal-black with rough edges. Jamey likes the texture on his phone, will just sit and rub the pads of his fingers on it over and over and over again, smiling in a distant way, sitting next to Ben on the couch while Ben watches TV and Jamey, who can go days without speaking and is currently one hundred percent all about how they film movies and tv shows, explains every fucking cinematic trick every camera is using at any given moment.

It’s nice.

It’s how Jamey says he loves you, by sharing what’s up in his head whenever he can, and Ben - when he’s home - always tries to listen. 

“Yeah.” Akio laughs again, and Ben decides it’s a good laugh - strong, and not overly loud, and a little infectious. “Yeah, me neither. I don’t-... how do you even begin a conversation like this? Hello, nice to meet you, what do you know about my dead best friend? I don’t know what to say, just… we don’t even know they’re the same person, do we? Maybe they just look alike. Fuck.” Akio laughs once more, but this time it’s shaky, breathier. “I genuinely can’t decide if I want him to dead or not, I just-...”

Ben takes a breath, thinking of Laken’s voice on the phone yesterday morning, exhausted and rambling after a night of not sleeping, their fear and grief and love for Chris, telling Ben to go ahead with this meeting, but Chris needed time. “They’re definitely the same person,” He says, voice low and quiet. “We, um. He saw the video you posted, and he kind of-... freaked out.”

“Freaked out?” Akio blinks, sitting up a little straighter. His eyes are focused completely on Ben’s face, which would make him blush if he weren’t trying not to look directly at him. “What do you mean?”

Ben swallows. “Um. Just. He’s-... he doesn’t remember. Or… he didn’t. Seeing the video might have… brought some stuff up. Like, a lot of... bad stuff.”

Fuck, I’ve never heard him scream like that. Laken’s voice, rough-edged, laced with their tears. I can’t believe… he needs a few days, he can’t go with you to see this guy, Ben. He’s-... he’s super fucked up right now. I’m so glad his brothers know what’s happening to him because I-I don’t know what to do and he won’t let me anywhere near him. 

Akio nods, slowly, and his hands worry at each other under the table, the smile faded and replaced with seriousness, uncertainty. “Yeah, when you said-... anyway, I looked the company up, and it’s-... it’s weird, I knew about pets, but I guess… I mean, he wasn’t old enough to…” 

“Um… yeah. So, um. I know, but they-... clearly they still did...”

They sit there in an awkward silence, and then Akio pulls his own phone out of his pocket and unlocks it. “Let me show you something. Tris and I shared our passwords for Instagram, way back, and when he-... went… when his aunt took his phone away-”

Ben’s eyebrows furrow. Something about that pricks at him. Miss you, big sister, always. 

“He went to live with his aunt?” Ben asks. The cashier reappears, setting a plain iced coffee down on the table, and Ben discovers he apparently ordered iced coffee with a scoop of ice cream for himself, and that’s not bad, good for him. It’s even his favorite ice cream, vanilla with almond and chocolate chips.

“Yeah, his Aunt Jo, his mom’s sister.” Akio shrugs one shoulder. “I never met her, she never came to meets or anything. Tris always said she was kind of a shit to him and his dad.” Something in his jaw is tightening - and the line of his jaw is catching Ben’s eyes entirely too much for the seriousness of this conversation. He can’t stop himself from looking. “She’s who he went to live with, after. She took his phone away because he was complaining to, um, to my mom and I - my mom and Ronnie, Mrs. Higgs, were… you know, team moms.” He shrugs, and Ben doesn’t know, but he nods anyway. “He was complaining about how she took him out of therapy, and… uh, you know, Tris needed therapy, just-... it helped him to, um-”

Ben swallows. “Self-regulate,” He says, softly. “Redirect potentially harmful stims. Figure out how to filter.”

“Right.” Akio smiles, a little shamefaced. “Sorry, it’s been… fucking years since I had to think about this so much. It’s… I would show my mom his messages, and my mom would call Jo and tell her to get him back in therapy and back to practice, but… you know, the social workers said there was nothing we could do about it. We weren’t family. We made complaints, but...” Akio slumps, closing his eyes briefly. "God, I don't even know if they did a home visit."

Ben closes his eyes. Jamey, trapped with someone who didn’t let him go to his own therapy. Jamey, nonverbal on hard days, trapped with someone who didn’t learn signing to talk to him during meltdowns like Ben’s family did. 

Jamey, trying to say he needed help with his hands again and again but no one’s listening, no one’s even trying anymore-

“Yeah,” Ben says, voice hoarse, and uses a thin plastic spoon with a long handle to get a bite of ice cream soaked in cold coffee taste, letting it dissolve on his tongue to buy himself some time for his throat to open back up. It’s fear in his chest, yeah, but beneath that is a bubbling, simmering fury, a distant anger for a hypothetical that he understands was Chris’s reality. “Yeah. My brother’s-... um, autistic, so I know… I know about it.”

“Yeah, I saw that.”

Ben blinks, caught off-guard. “What?”

Akio flushes, reddening along his cheekbones, and rolls his eyes at himself, slumping back down. “Okay, so, I promise I’m not a stalker, but when you messaged me I looked at your profile to see if you were just a creep. I saw the autism banner, so I looked and you wrote this really sweet thing about your brother-... how old is he?”

Ben almost forgets how to speak again. “He’s-... fifteen. Just turned fifteen. Jamey’s, um, his name is Jamey.”

“Cool. Yeah. So. I’m not a stalker. But, I’m just… listen, Tris and I started training at the gym together when we were like… seven. And I was seventeen when he, when she said… when she said he died.”

Ben’s breath catches. “Shit. She did?”

“Um. Yeah. A month after she took his phone away - we were calling her all the time asking to speak with him and stuff, my mom had kind of threatened to get social services involved again - she called my mom and said he-... um. Sorry if suicide is a thing for you, but…”

“No, I-I’m okay, I just…”

“Yeah. She told us he killed himself. We thought she was lying - oh fuck, she was lying, wasn’t she? - but so... but then you know, she had him cremated, and... I fucking-... I lost my shit, Ben. I didn’t compete, I didn’t train, I just, I just sat in my room for like six months bawling my eyes out and I told my mom it was just like she killed him, taking him away from everything when, you know, he was so sad and scared without them.”

Ben nods, quiet, watching Akio’s face as he speaks.

“My mom offered to take him, have him live with us, but… you know, she said no, and then he-... but he didn’t.” Akio drinks his coffee, absently, and Ben realizes his eyes are red around the edges. “Oh, god, he probably thought nobody cared about him anymore. Oh, shit. He probably thought we stopped giving a fuck. That h-he was al-... alone-”

He’s been crying. He’s maybe going to cry again.

Akio takes in a deep, shuddering breath. “He didn’t know-... shit. He probably just thought, no one’s coming, nobody cares, and… shit. I don’t know what to even think right now, just...” Akio slides his phone across the table. “Look at this. I locked it, when I thought-... but I kept it, anyway. I kept everything, I couldn’t-... I mean it’s just a box of stuff under my bed, but… I couldn’t throw any of it out, because… I don’t know. Somebody needed to, to r-remember him, and she wouldn’t have-... that fucking bitch told us he was dead. And she threw out all his stuff, so I’m... I guess I’m the only one who still has anything, so I just... kept it. Everything. And... this.”

There’s a moment where they both pretend Akio’s voice isn’t trembling.

“What is this?” Ben knows before the question is fully out of his mouth, but he looks anyway. Akio’s phone is still warm from his hand. 

“Tristan’s Instagram account. We, uh, we took pictures of stupid shit a lot back then, and Instagram was, like, super new and all filters all the time, so you just-... but this is his. His mom encouraged him to use it because, you know, sometimes he could show stuff better than he could say it.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Ben tilts his head, scrolling through the images. Most of the photos are just nothing - a cloud, books on a bookshelf, a tree leaf. Ben kind of quirks a smile at all the old Instagram filters right there, like looking in a fucking time capsule. Sometimes there are gymnastics photos, of the gym or of someone training. Sometimes Tristan himself appears in the photo, a blur of constant motion, photos taken by someone else. Photos of dinosaur bones at a museum, seemingly every fucking skeleton or fossil in the place.

“That’s our trip to DC, the team went,” Akio says, and points to a photo of Tristan and Akio, gangly awkward teenagers, standing in front of the Lincoln monument. Akio is smiling, and Tristan is looking up at the sky instead of the camera. “I like to look at this stuff sometimes? I know it’s been… it’s funny, we were talking a few weeks ago about how it’ll be a couple more years when he’s been dead longer than how long I knew him, but he’s not-... he was never dead.” Akio swallows, and his voice catches. When he speaks again, he sounds strained, forcing his voice to stay calm around the emotion that threatens to overtake it. “He was never dead. I keep getting caught up on that, because-... because how did we not know? How did we never… find him?”

Ben pushes the phone back to Akio. “You didn’t know to look,” He says, softly. “How were you supposed to find him if you didn’t know anyone needed to be looking?”

“I guess. My mom feels like shit, she’s been crying since we spoke to you. Well, I have, too. But my mom feels like she… she should have showed up at Joanne’s door and just taken Tristan by force, but, you know, the cops would’ve taken him right back, probably? That’s fucking kidnapping? And I keep telling her not to feel guilty, but she-”

“Yeah,” Ben says, thinking of Laken’s voice on the phone. 

I didn’t know he’d come home early. I keep saying I’m sorry but... He wasn’t-... he wasn’t ready for this and he’s so… he’s so fucked up. He won’t even talk to me. Every time Jake leaves the room we’re scared he’ll hurt himself again. He keeps telling me to find someone else, somebody easier, but I don’t want anyone else, god damn it, I want him! 

“She’s taking it really hard,” Akio says, finally, breaking into Ben’s thoughts. “I mean. We both are. But, you know, I keep thinking I can’t do this but then I think… I want to see him again. I want to see this guy in person, not just in those photos and videos you had. I want to see how he’s doing, he looks-... he looks so good.” Akio coughs, like he’s trying to cover up a sob, not quite managing it. “He looks really good.”

“He is, he’s doing… he’s good. Um, he’s having a hard time with remembering some stuff, but overall... he’s good.” Ben picks his own phone back up, pops back to Ronnie’s page. “What did you say the aunt’s name was?”

“Jo, um, Joanne… something. Sorry, I don’t really remember her last name, my mom would-”

“Botham?” Ben looks up, and god, he kind of wants to hug Akio until there aren’t tears in his eyes anymore. But also that’s a stupid thing to think, isn’t it? But he wants to, anyway. 

“Oh, that sounds right.”

“She left a comment on his mom’s-... I’ve been looking for everything I could find. I’m sorry, I know that’s creepy. But Joanne Botham left like a comment about missing-... hold on.” Ben clicks to open up Joanne Botham’s profile. A woman smiling in a profile photo, with dark hair. Something about the shape of her mouth is similar to Chris’s, but that doesn’t mean much, really. He scrolls down. 

Name, stupid quote from a stupider movie, current city is a while away from this one, like a couple states away, but she could’ve moved… There it is.

The answer to his questions, all of them, all at once, right out in the open.

“Joanne Botham,” He says out loud, “works at WRU.”

“What?” Akio looks up at him.

“His aunt. The mom’s sister, she works for WRU. That’s where Chris was-... where they hurt him. Where they make pets.”

Where they erase people. Where they take someone like Jamey and destroy him and how many versions of my brother are there who weren’t rescued by somebody like Chris’s big brother?

“WRU?” Akio’s face twists, an ugly pain written across it. “They’re one of our team’s sponsors. I’ve never thought about how… oh my god. I, I never liked… I mean, none of us are, like, political about it because you can’t be if you want an Olympic career, not really, but we all kind of hated taking the money. My coach thinks it’s good because it gets people off the street, which is super fucked up, but…” His iced coffee thunks down on the table. 

“What?”

“Oh shit. Oh holy fuck. They’ve been sponsoring us since we met with the old governor - he’s the one who hooked our coach up with their marketing team, and… oh my god. I’m gonna be fucking sick. WRU’s been my sponsor since like… a year after Tristan died-... didn’t die, I guess...”

“You didn’t know,” Ben whispers, staring down at Joanne Botham’s profile photo, scrolling through the profile picture photo album. He’s not maybe the smartest person on earth, but he can put two and two together for four. Tristan Higgs’s parents died, he goes to his aunt - who works for a human pet company - and he’s dead, supposedly, four months later. 

Time passes. No sign of supposed dead boy.

Then Chris, identical in every way, appears with no memory of his life and a thousand traumas to heal from, rescued from something that Ben doesn’t know the details of, but he doesn’t have to. 

Life as a pet, a life that made him terrified of bad weather and scared of people who raise their hands too quickly, unable to say no to anything when he gets scared, nervous about big vans with no windows, someone who says stupid fucking bullshit like silence is better than stammering when he’s upset, who sometimes has screaming nightmares that Laken has to wake him from that he refuses to explain to them...

Meanwhile, Aunt Joanne is putting up photos of herself traveling internationally, buying a new house, a new car, stuff she couldn’t afford to do before.

The math does itself.

It’s fucking true crime textbook, and it’s right in front of his eyes.

Akio’s jaw is working, and his eyes are glimmering again. He looks at Ben, and he looks weirdly lost and young, and Ben reaches out without thinking and grabs onto his hand. Akio grips on tight. His hand is warm, almost too warm, but also it’s the perfect amount of warm. “Do you think-... do you think she-”

Ben thinks about Jamey, scared and alone. He thinks about Jamey - and Tristan, the two of them mixing together in his mind - being dragged away, to be lost and overwritten, because no one was there to stop it.

Because someone did it on purpose.

Because no one stopped it.

“I think maybe she was lying to you because she didn’t want you to take Tristan,” Ben says, softly. “I think maybe she wanted to-... make money on him.”

Akio chokes, and leans forward, and Ben holds his hand as tightly as he can, feeling the other man’s fingers tremble in his grip. “I can't-... I can't even begin to deal with that, I just… So h-how did he end up in college? Pets don’t-... go to school, they’re not capable… are they?"

"Um. It depends, apparently?" Ben doesn’t know how much of this is something Chris would ever allow him to share. But Akio’s eyes raise, and catch his again, and Ben smiles, just a little, in an attempt to comfort. “He was rescued,” He says, softly. “I don’t know how, or when. He’d have to tell you that himself. But he’s, um. He’s just Chris now.”

“He’s just Chris, now.” Akio groans resting his head on his hand. “But not Tristan. So he really is dead, his body’s still just-.. walking around.”

“No,” Ben says, and leans in, getting Akio to look at him again. “He’s not gone. Not, like, the core of him, I think. We knew him as soon as we saw him on your video. We knew the smile, and how he moves, all of it. Everybody in the room knew him as soon as we saw him smile at you. He’s still there, he’s still him. I promise.”

“I knew it was him on your stuff as soon as I saw him dancing,” Akio says, brokenly. “H-he always did get obsessed with those fuh-fucking musicals and we used to make up routines to th-them-” His head drops, shoulders shaking, and Ben puts his other hand on Akio’s shoulder, moves around the edge of the little circular table, so he can put an arm around him. 

“It’s okay,” He whispers. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Akio says, muffled. “It’s not okay. We should have saved him, w-we didn’t know, we didn’t know she would… he probably th-thought we didn’t care... the social worker said it was fine, we’re not re-relatives, we didn’t know he wasn’t dead, we didn’t know he wasn’t gone, I thought I l-lost him and he probably thinks I didn’t even give a fuck-”

“I’m sure he never thought that,” Ben says, softly, and Akio’s hair brushes a little against the side of his face and he tries not to think too hard about how nice that feels, this is not the time or place, Benjamin, stop thinking about his hair stop it stop it stop it.

“We thought... “

“I know. But… you found him, now. He’s found.”

Akio sniffs back tears, mumbling, “Can I see him?”

Ben hesitates. “He needs-... he might need some time.”

Akio nods without looking up, but he leans a little on Ben. “I’m sorry, I’m being a fucking moron about this, making you comfort me and you don’t even know me, but I just-... missed him, and mourned him, and we go to see is parents wh-where they’re buried every year on the day that his aunt said he-... Is he h-happy? Now?”

Ben closes his eyes. That’s what I’d want to know, isn’t it, if it was Jamey. Is he happy now? Does his new family sign, do they know how to calm him down when it’s too much, do they know, do they care, if I’m not there does someone love him as much as we did?

I’d claw my way out of the fucking grave to make sure someone loves Jamey as much as he deserves.

“He’s happy,” Ben says, softly. “He was adopted by the guy who saved him, I think. There’s a whole lot I don’t know, you know, it’s not really my-... my story to, um, to tell. I just know some of it. He’s, um, he’s with someone, and… he’s… he’s happy.”

“Good. I just-... I want to see him.”

“I know. I’ll ask. But his partner... I’m friends with them, and they, um, he’s n-not... not okay right now, so...”

“I can wait.” Akio looks at him, intense, intent, eyes so dark Ben could fall in. “I’ve waited this long, I can-... I can wait a little longer, I just... I just want to see him, when he can see me.”

The bell over the door chimes again, and the two of them turn and look to see a woman who could not be more obviously Akio’s mother entering, looking at them, her eyebrows furrowed in immediate worry when she sees the tears on Akio’s face. “Aki?”

“It’s him, Mom,” Akio says, and she moves to him as if drawn, and Ben fights himself to pull back and away, to watch mother and son. Tristan had this, and lost it, but Chris has it, too. Life, interrupted at the second act, begun again with new actors around the main character. “It’s definitely-... it’s Tristan. But, she-... I have to tell you what happened to him. He, they-they made him a, um, a pet-”

She hitches in a breath, pulls a chair with a loud scrape from another table, and sits, looking Ben over, expression serious. “Tell me,” She says, softly, but fiercely. 

“It’s, um, it’s a lot…”

“I’ve got time.” Ben is reminded of his own mother, in the simple steel flashing under her perfectly styled hair and carefully done makeup. Her eyes are red around the edges, too. She lays a cool, dry hand over Ben’s, and her dark eyes bore into him with focused intensity. “Tell me what happened to our Tris. I want to know what happened to-... I want to know what I didn’t stop.”

Akio looks sidelong at his mother, putting an arm around her, and he’s shorter than his mom but she seems to sag against him, and he can see how Akio takes after his mom, with the same wide mouth that normally seems always on the verge of a smile, the same dark eyes flashing with anger and guilt. “M-Mom, you couldn’t have known, we couldn’t do anything-”

“I could have gone to that woman’s… house, or wherever she was, and taken Tristan right out the door, and I didn’t,” Aimi says, and her voice doesn’t shake, but her face is bright red and her eyes are overbright and glittering. “I could have called lawyers, or the cops, I could have tried to fight for him and I didn’t. Ronnie deserved-” Her voice catches and her hand is over her mouth. Ben watches her eyes well up, her struggle to calm herself, throat working as she swallows and leans into her son’s embrace. “Ronnie… would have wanted someone to fight for him. I want to know what happened because I did the normal thing and not the right thing, because I didn’t let myself see it. I want to know what exactly it is that I didn’t stop when I had the chance.”

Ben sits back, takes a breath. 

“He, um. His name is… Chris now,” Ben starts, slowly. “Christopher Stanton. He’s, um, he’s a sophomore in college, and… he was a human pet, for a while. We don’t know how long, nobody knows for sure, or who had him. I mean, I guess he knows and I think his brother knows, but h-he, won’t… won’t tell anyone who it was.”

Aimi’s whole body shudders, but her face doesn’t change, and her eyes don’t leave Ben’s. “H-how-”

Akio licks at his lips, and hesitantly says, “Ben thinks maybe that aunt they sent him to sold him. She works for WRU.”

Aimi’s eyes slowly close, and her breathing is slow but trembling. The two young men watch her. Akio’s knee bumps his under the table, and he doesn’t think about that, either, except it’s all he’s going to think about for the rest of the day.

“Okay,” Aimi says, after a long pause, and her eyes open again. A kind of perfect calm settles itself across the pain in her expression. 

Ben thinks that this woman is probably fucking terrifying if it’s you she’s angry with and not herself. 

“Mom, if we need to stop, that’s okay-”

“We don’t. Ben-... that’s your name? Ben?”

“Uh, yeah… Benjamin Prentiss, but-... call me Ben.” 

Prentiss, Akio mouths to himself, and Ben hopes, in another weird moment, that Akio likes his last name. 

“Got it.” Aimi leans forward, smacks the table with one hand. Ben flinches. Her jaw sets. She’s definitely terrifying. Like his own mother when they tried to kick Jamey out of school, this is a woman who could stare down the sun itself unblinking and walk away undamaged, if the sun was a threat to her children. “Ben?”

“Yes, um, Mrs. Nakamura?”

“Keep talking. Tell me everything about Tristan-”

“Chris.” He clears his throat. “He’s, um, his name is Chris.”

“... tell me everything about Chris.”

--

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly  @newandfiguringitout  , @doveotions  , @pretty-face-breaker  , @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @moose-teeth  , @cubeswhump  , @cupcakes-and-pain  @whump-tr0pes  @whumpiary  @orchidscript

[miraculousbelladonna]

Exposed

A little something based off this salt prompt by @miraculoussweettea

also posted on AO3

(and yes, part 2 of The Edict is coming! I’ve been traveling a lot for the holidays recently and my brain is fried but she’s coming!)

***

Alya is shaking with excitement as she uploads the video to her blog. She can’t believe she got this scoop. She can’t believe she’s the first one to expose Ladybug’s identity.

She’s a little upset that Marinette never told her, but she did pick her to be Rena Rouge, and even though it’s been a while, she guesses it kind of balances out.

She is still absolutely going to have words with her bestie later, but she doesn’t think twice about posting the life changing video onto her blog.

All she’s thinking about is how it’s so cool that she’s the one who found Ladybugs identity. It’s so cool that she’s the one who’s revealing it. It’s so cool that her best friend, Marinette, is Ladybug. Her views are going to go through the roof. Television channels are going to be talking about this, they’re going to be calling her and asking to use her footage.

And of course, Lila and Marinette can be besties! Marinette doesn’t have to pretend to hate her to protect her identity! Everything is falling into place.

This is the true beginning of her long illustrious career as a reporter. She has stars in her eyes as she publishes the video, and she turns her notifications off before she goes to bed. It’ll give her something to look forward to in the morning.

***

Adrien gets the notification that the Ladyblog has posted, and he’s clicking it before he even reads the update.

As soon as he finishes the video he feels sick.

He should’ve read the notification.

Alya has exposed Ladybug’s identity. 

Ladybug is Marinette.

But that’s not why he’s so appalled, sickened even, by the video. 

It makes sense for Marinette to be Ladybug, now that he’s thinking about it. She’s creative, she’s strong, a quick thinker, and an amazing leader. He already calls her their ‘everyday Ladybug’ as it is, she must’ve been laughing inside every time, knowing he didn’t even know how right he was.

Of course Marinette is Ladybug.

But her identity has been exposed. It’s been exposed in such a crude, callous way. A shaky video taken by someone clearly crouched behind a trash can in an alley. Marinette’s privacy, her personhood, has been stolen from her by the one person who should’ve been protecting it. By her very best friend. By Ladybug’s self proclaimed “biggest fan.”

Ladybug never wanted to reveal her identity, and as much as he’s given her flak for it, as frustrating as it is, she’s right. It’s dangerous. And knowing who she is, knowing her family, how many people are out there that she cares about and who care about her, it makes even more sense. Adrien has no one. But Marinette, God. Marinette has everyone. She has a heart full of love and no qualms about giving it out to anyone she meets. 

Marinette is so, so good. So kind. So caring.

Hawkmoth has no problem using and abusing the emotions of even babies in order to get what he wants.

It would be so easy to use Marinette’s heart against her.

He dry heaves into the trash can beside his bed as Plagg hovers frantically around his head.

He has to see her. He has to check on her. If she hasn’t seen the video, he’ll be the one to break it to her, and if she has, well. He’ll reveal himself if he has to, to even the scales. To make her more comfortable. This kind of imbalance is never what he wanted. He never wanted to know who Ladybug was unless she wanted to tell him. This is not a win. This is not a happy moment.

“Plagg. Claws out.”

Marinette has had something stolen from her that she will never get back. He’s holding back tears the entire way to her house, and as he lands on her balcony, and hears her crying, the dam breaks. He starts crying too.

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt worse in his life. He can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. 

***

“Oh no. Tikki. What am I going to do? What - what happens now? Am I going to lose my miraculous? Hawkmoth is going to come after me for sure, but how soon? Can we tell the guardian to wait until he does to take the miraculous back? Tikki - I just - I don’t. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. How could Alya do this? How could she do this to me?”

Marinette is a wreck. She’s on the floor in her room crying, sobbing, and she’s thankful her parents had already gone to bed when the video went up. She’s thankful she has one night alone to break apart in silence before she has to face the world.

Tikki’s face is solemn, and angry. She can’t believe her chosen has been violated like this, and by her supposed best friend no less. 

“Marinette. Everything is going to be fine. You’re an amazing Ladybug, your miraculous is not going to be taken away for this. It was not your fault. You did nothing wrong. Now, you sit here and feel whatever you’re going to feel. Do not shove these emotions down. Do not block them off. Feel sad. Feel betrayed. Disappointed. Angry. Don’t worry about Hawkmoth, not tonight. I’m going to go up to your balcony and if any akuma comes within as little as 5 feet of this house … it’ll wish it hadn’t.” She wipes her paw under one of Marinette’s eyes to wipe her tears, and it just makes the girl cry even more.

“You are Ladybug, and an amazing one, but you’re also Marinette. Both are necessary. Both are immeasurably strong, but you don’t need to be strong tonight. Do whatever you need to do to reconcile what’s just been done to you. Take your time. Take the night. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

Marinette just nods and sighs, more tears running down her face as she whispers, “Thank you, Tikki.”

“Anytime, Marinette. You are strong and brilliant and amazing, even if you don’t feel like it all the time. Even if not everyone sees it. Call me back down whenever you’re ready.”

Tikki floats through the floor and hovers over the balcony, keeping a keen eye out for any akumas, or even suspiciously dark butterflies. She’s so focused on the minute details she doesn’t see Chat until he’s landed on the balcony, until she hears him crying.

Her heart breaks a little more at the sight. She knows how he’s feeling. They’re both feeling the same things. Adrien is young, and soft, so he’s feeling more sad than angry, but Tikki is as old as time. She has had her entire existence to be sad. Tonight, she is angry.

He looks at her and his face crumples even more. His voice cracks as he says, “I didn’t read the title of the post before I watched it, if I had, I wouldn’t have. I swear on my life, on my miraculous, that I wouldn’t have. I never wanted to find out from anyone but her.”

Tikki closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Chat, but I’m not the one who needs to hear it. Wait here. Watch for akumas.”

His eyes widen as he nods rapidly, and he turns around immediately to stand guard as she phases back through the floor.

“Marinette, I know I said I’d give you as long as you need, but there’s something you need to know.”

“I heard him land. I know he’s here.”

“Do you want to see him right now? And don’t tell me what you think he or I will want to hear, because what we want is what you want.”

“How does he … seem?”

“He’s sad. But not for the reasons you think. He’s sad for the same reason that I’m angry, and I think you should hear it from him, but only if you want to.”

She nods once, face steely with resolve even as tears are still streaming down her face, and Tikki goes back to deliver the verdict.

“You can see her. Just, give her what she needs. Give her a hug. This form is useful for many things but comfort isn’t one of them. Be there for her. As long as she needs. I’ll be standing watch.”

He’s still crying as he nods at her and opens the door to enter Marinette’s room.

He doesn’t leave until the next morning, right before school starts.

***

Adrien orders the Gorilla to drive by the bakery to pick Marinette up before school. They talked a lot last night, and he did end up revealing himself, which Marinette only agreed to after he admitted how imbalanced he felt.

Either way, they talked a lot. They got through a lot of things, cleared up a lot of issues, and their relationship is solid. Their friendship is solid. Their partnership is solid. She admitted to him that Lila threatened her, and after he got over the anger he was trying not to feel (she reminded him Tikki was still standing sentry on her balcony after she saw his face go from white to red to pink in anger in the span of only 2 seconds) he apologized, and let her know he has her back. He is going to have her back today and every day after. For however long they live.

She marches out of the bakery with her head high, expression cold and distant in the way it is often when she’s Ladybug, and he steps next to her with his arm out for her to hold onto. 

She gives him a smile, which he returns, and he maneuvers her through the paparazzi and reporters and random citizens trying to get a look at Paris’ very own hero.

“Don’t react to anything they say, don’t look at them, try not to even think about them. They’re only here for a story and unfortunately everything you do now is being recorded and broadcast.”

She doesn’t respond but she squeezes his arm in acknowledgement, and as soon as they get into the limo, she lets out a huge sigh.

He puts up the privacy screen and Tikki and Plagg immediately fly into sight.

Plagg plops himself onto Adrien’s head and simply says, “You did good, kid.” Adrien flushes at the praise, especially when Tikki and Marinette quickly nod their agreement.

“I didn’t even think about the fact that paparazzi and reporters could come to the bakery for me. That was some really valuable insight. Thank you.” Marinette says, and it has him flushing even more.

They pull into the street in front of the school and Marinette pulls her Ladybug persona up again. She puts her shoulders back, head up, and lets her expression go cold and distant.

Adrien feels himself doing the same, face going stony as he takes his cues from her. 

He gets out first, puts his arm out again for her to take, and when she does, everyone all but riots.

There are even more paparazzi than at the bakery, there are reporters, parents, students, strangers, there is a mob of people and it has Marinette stalling for a moment, so he takes charge and starts pulling her through the crowd again.

He ignores everything everyone is saying. He doesn’t react. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t flinch. He is a rock. Marinette is clutching his arm like a lifeline, and her knuckles are white, the only outward sign that she is anything but remarkably and completely composed like her face suggests.

They make it into the school, up the stairs, and into the classroom, Adrien glaring at anyone who so much as blinks in Marinette’s direction, and they can finally breathe. 

Except they can’t. Because the classroom is full of bullies and traitors and liars. They aren’t any safer here than they would be lying on a bed of broken glass.

Marinette looks at him, eyes widened a little in desperation, and Adrien pulls her up to her seat in the back, and sits down next to her. He’s glaring at the class the entire time, daring them to speak.

Alya, of course, is the first.

“Hey girl!” She walks up to the side of Marinette’s table, leans onto it like they’re friends, like she’s owed something, and Adrien’s hackles raise instantly.

“So, why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Marinette’s face goes white and then red with anger, and her fists are clenched so tightly that Adrien has to wrap his hand around hers to get her to unclench them. He glares at Alya who is ridiculously, blissfully ignorant, still smiling wide at Marinette with her phone out to record the answer she’s expecting.

He turned to the class and realized that they’re all staring at her expectantly, every single one of them looking like they’re owed something. and anger burns through Adrien like he’s on fire, how did he never notice how disgusting and selfish these people all were? How did he never see it?

Marinette finally turns on Alya, gaze colder and harder than vibranium as she says, “I never told you, Césaire, because you’ve proven time and again that you cannot be trusted. Your little stunt last night is just the latest proof. Did you get what you wanted? Did you get the attention? The views?”

“What! Girl! -“ Alya stutters, shocked. “I didn’t do it for attention! Or views!”

“So the views on the Ladyblog haven’t gone up at all.”

“Well of course they have! But that’s because Paris wanted to know! The world wanted to know!”

“And it didn’t matter that I didn’t want them to. That I didn’t want to share my identity. That it puts me in danger. That it puts my family, my friends, and anyone I have ever, or will ever care about, in danger. That I will be targeted by Hawkmoth, and so will everyone I have ever interacted with in my entire life.”

“They deserved to know! And come on, nobody’s in danger! Hawkmoth isn’t gonna do anything!”

“No one deserved to know anything about me that I didn’t want to share. That I didn’t choose to share. And that decision did not belong to you. It belonged to me. You took that from me. You betrayed me and endangered my life and the lives of countless others. Did you even think twice about it? Did you for a single second think about me, your supposed friend, Marinette?”

“But you’re Ladybug! That’s all that matters! And besides, you can stop pretending to hate Lila now!”

Chloe has been silently fuming during this entire exchange, because it is not her place to step in for Marinette, not after everything she’s done to her, but Marinette is Ladybug. Marinette is Ladybug and has shown her more genuine kindness than both of her parents have in her entire life, especially when she didn’t deserve it. She is an absolute saint amongst mortals, but even saints have their breaking points, and she’s surely hit hers or will soon. Chloe can’t stand by and just watch this happen. If nothing else, then for her own sanity. Césaire is not listening. Something in her brain just isn’t clicking. It’s pathetic, and ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. 

“You’re either delusional or very, very, stupid.”

Alya gasps as she turns to glare at Chloe.

Chloe nods at Marinette, “Dup - Marinette. Thank you for giving me a second chance. For giving me any chance. I didn’t deserve it, and you know it. I’ll never be able to pay back the kindness you’ve shown me even if I live to be a thousand years old. I’m sorry you have to deal with all of this shit, and I have a team of lawyers ready to sue for slander and invasion of privacy at your say so.”

Adrien beams at her, proud of this new leaf she’s turning, of the actual effort she’s putting into being good, and Marinette is stunned as she nods in assent and says, “Thank you. I - you have no idea how much I appreciate that. I’ll take you up on that offer. We’ll talk during lunch.”

Chloe nods resolutely, glares at Alya who is staring with her mouth gaping open in shock, and scoffs. She immediately pulls her phone out and starts making calls to her father and his many associates, and Sabrina is next to her doing the same with hers.

“What do you mean, lawyers! You can’t sue me! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Lila and I are not friends. Ladybug is not her friend. Marinette is not her friend. She is a liar. She’s been lying since she got here, which I told you countless times. You dismissed me and belittled me and called me jealous and stupid and selfish, when you were the ones who cast me aside for someone who could spin a few pretty stories. So yes, I’m Ladybug. No, I didn’t tell you. You are not trustworthy. There’s a reason Rena Rouge and Carapace haven’t been called on in the past year. You, Alya Césaire, are not worthy of a miraculous, and will never wield one again. You’re not a bad person, but you aren’t by any means a good one. You only care about yourself and your blog, with no regard for the truth or for anyone but yourself, and that is dangerous. You never consider the consequences to your actions. You are not someone I’ll be associating with any longer, and you have no one to blame but yourself for whatever happens next.”

***

It turns out there’s a lot of big name lawyers tripping over themselves to do pro bono work for Paris’ magical hero. She has her case set and served to Alya before lunch is over.

***

After three days with no akumas, Marinette checks the mail to see that she’s received an unmarked envelope with the butterfly and peacock miraculous inside. There’s no address or name, and inside is a printed note that just reads, I’m sorry.

tags: @mikantsume @aestheticnpoetic

[sup-hoes-its-me]

Before You Go (All Might x Reader)

Part One/Part Two

A/N: okay, so this is gonna be pretty sad all around. Ultimately, Young!All Might x reader, but with Aizawa Shota undertones. Aizawa was giving me some mad professor snape vibes in this, and I sincerely apologize for that. I love him too but this isnt his story.

word count:4000

“Y/N, you seriously need to sign up with that energy quirk hero’s agency...shit what’s his name? It’s on the tip of my tongue,” Yamada remarked, tapping his chin as if that might help him remember. He sat at the lunch table with the rest of his friends, Shota and Oboro. Y/N was right beside him, but it seemed his words, despite being loud as usual, went through one ear and out the other. 

“Don’t bother. She’s a lost cause.” Aizawa replied tiredly. 

They all followed her gaze, only for their eyes to land on Toshinori Yagi. The blond walked by, carrying his food to his lunch table with his friends, people Y/N didn’t know, nor could she ever even hope to know. To be honest, Y/N was kinda sorta a loser. She was lucky that she even had friends considering she was awkward beyond belief.

“He’s too full of himself to notice you, Y/N. I’d just give up on that one,” the dark haired boy added, bumping his shoulder with the girl’s. She frowned, shaking her head to get back to reality. Aizawa was right. Not even once had the blond glanced at her or said hello. He was too cool for her. He was going to be one of the best heroes to ever exist and she was just average at best. None of her teachers ever saw potential in her, just saying that her strength was great, just that the side effects of her quirk were far too destructive.

She took a hefty scoop of rice and shoved it into her mouth, chewing grumpily. 

“Come on, Y/N! It’s alright. You could just date me or Yamada!” Oboro laughed, clapping a hand on her shoulder from where he sat across from the girl. 

“You don’t have to ruin my fantasies, Aizawa-kun. I know I don’t have a chance, but it’s nice to think about,” she snapped, sending a sideways glance at her friend who shrugged. He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter if Y/N obsessed over that muscle-head, but it bothered him. She was their friend: she should pay attention to them, no ogle over some narcissist. “He’s going to be the greatest hero this world has ever seen, I just know it. There’s something special about him, his quirk-”

“We get it. Toshinori this, Toshinori that. You know, if you like him so much, why don’t you go talk to him?” Yamada suggested. He wasn’t upset with her talking on and on about her crush, but he just knew Aizawa was about to burst with a couple more remarks. When she didn’t make an effort to move, he smiled knowingly. “You’re such a scaredy cat, Y/N. What’s he gonna do, bite you? If he’s a nice guy, it wouldn’t be a problem-”

“If it’s so easy, Yamada, why don’t you go find Nemuri and tell her how you feel?”

That shut him up very fast, as expected. Their cloud quirk friend broke through the tension swiftly, “Well, instead of talking about stupid crushes, why don’t we talk about our plans for this weekend? Karaoke and Barbeque, dudes! It’s gonna be awesome.”

“Oh my God, I totally forgot about that!” Y/N exclaimed, shoving more rice in her mouth so it bulged in her cheek like a squirrel. She probably should take smaller bites, but it was more fun to see how many grains she could fit in her mouth at one time. “Hizashi, I swear if you eat all the spicy pork again...”

“That only happened once-”

“Twice, actually!” she corrected, poking him on the forehead with the end of her chopstick. They laughed and all was well again, if not for her lowering self-esteem. If only Aizawa believed in her. He was her best friend, the only one who’d been there since the beginning. If he pushed her to talk to Toshinori maybe she would have the courage to actually do it. 

But that wasn’t important. She had friends who actually enjoyed her company, and that’s what mattered.

The weekend was two days away, and a lot could happen in those 48 hours, she found. 

_____________________________________

“Fucking useless. So weak,” Y/N cursed, staring down at her burning hands. Blisters had yet to form, but she could feel the pain of her training. She could accumulate heat from her surroundings and expel that from any part of her body. Yet, it seemed that there were more downsides than perks with this quirk she inherited from her parents. Firstly, she could not consciously choose to concentrate the heat in any one area. Usually, it did come from her hands, but often she would find other parts of her body scalding to the touch when she was using her power. Secondly, using her power at high heat would leave her with terrible burns. 

Thankfully, her mother gave her bits of a regeneration quirk, meaning the burns only lasted for a couple days, most of the time less than that. Hopefully, with time, she could control the quirk so the damage wouldn’t be so bad.

She hated her quirk. It sucked. She couldn’t do anything much with it or else she would hurt herself and have to stop. Once she was burned so badly that the hospital almost had to amputate one of her limbs just from that. 

Sadly, she fell to her knees on the sandy training grounds, just staring down at her hands hopelessly. How could she ever become a pro hero like this? She’d never be able to compete with the other UA students, especially people like Toshinori or Todoroki or even Aizawa. 

“Shit,” she shouted angrily, shutting her eyes and slamming her hands against the sand. Her hands lit up a bright red for a quick moment as heat ran through them into the ground. Sand blew up all around her face and rocks were sent flying in all directions. As the dust cleared, she could see a small crater in the ground where she channeled her energy, it wasn’t huge, maybe enough for a person to lay in, but not much bigger. 

Her hands stung terribly, and blisters started to bubble up on her skin. She was so full of adrenaline and hate for herself that the pain hadn’t entered her mind. She was just so fucking angry. She would never be good enough. Why even go to UA if she was just gonna get a job outside of the quirk realm? If anything, she’d probably get left behind to be a civilian while everyone she knew got rich and famous from quirk work.

“Hey, are you okay?” a familiar voice asked from somewhere behind her. She turned her head, tears stuck in the corners of her eyes as she drifted out of her reality into the real world. If it didn’t sting so badly, maybe she would have been more excited to see Toshinori Yagi walking in her direction. She hissed, turning back around and shaking her hands to get some cool air on them. 

He jogged to her side, kneeling beside her. His eyes widened at the sight of her hands, but also at the hole she left in the ground. “That looks really, really bad. We should get you to Recovery Girl-”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He looked up to her face, his brows raised in surprise. Why would she deny going to the infirmary for an injury like this? She had to be insane, he thought. “What? Why?”

“It’ll heal soon.”

“Do you have a regeneration quirk?” he asked, but as he did so, he gently took her hands in his, which were in comparison, freezing cold. He felt like he was touching fire, but he knew his body was strong enough to handle a little heat. Her skin was already blood red, but him touching her so delicately left her feeling faint. The school’s star pupil was holding her hands. She couldn’t believe it. Even through the pain, she felt bashful.

She nodded. “Yeah, but it will take a day or two.”

“Well then, we’re going now.” He didn’t even wait for her to say anything in reply before picking her up in his arms, one behind her shoulders and the other under her knees. In shock, she could only lay there limp, her burnt hands face up in her lap. “How’d you do that anyway? You have a heat quirk, right?”

“Yeah. I just put too much energy into my hands. I have to use my quirk in moderation,” she explained. “Also, I can walk. It’s fine, you don’t need to-”

“No! You need to save as much of your strength so you can heal your wounds. Recovery Girl can’t heal you completely, I’m sure.” 

“Okay. Thank you.”

He walked inside the school building and started talking again. She didn’t know for sure why he was giving her so much of his time and effort. She could have taken herself to the nurse or easily gone home. It was after class. He might have been coming out to train himself, actually. Either way, he was being extremely kind.

“I’m Toshinori Yagi. I’ve seen you around school before, you always hang with the boy with that erasing quirk.”

“Yep. He’s one of my best friends.”

“If I remember right, you’re L/N Y/N? Heat manipulation quirk? You were 4th in this year’s sport’s festival,” he smiled down at her, and she felt herself light on fire once again. How did he remember her? She was such a background character, and even if she did mildly well, her quirk and face weren’t much to remember. “You were super impressive out there, I was surprised. You seem so shy, but really you’re a powerhouse.”

“Not really. I have to hurt myself to do anything good.”

“If you could learn to control your quirk, imagine what you could do with your power?! You made that giant hole in the ground out there in a matter of seconds.” That made her feel good. People normally brought her down, telling her that she would just have to deal with it, that it was a condition of her power. For some reason, this boy believed in her. It made a bit of a smile come to her lips. 

His grin felt contagious, and it only grew brighter seeing her lips curl up. 

“I guess so.”

“You should let me help you out. I know a lot about control from my own quirk. We’d be a good pair, I think.”

That was when her heart officially stopped beating. He wanted to spend even more time together? He wanted to take time out his day to help her improve? She began to rethink what her friends said about the boy. He didn’t seem full of himself at all. He was generous and kind from the looks of it. 

And to think she had a crush on him before. Now she felt her heart swelling up in her chest so much it might explode.

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course.”

That’s how Y/N met the famous All Might, and the moment she started her downward spiral in love with him.

_________________________________

Y/N sat at the lunch table once again with her normal squad of friends, Aizawa to her right as usual. She had one of her books sitting out on the table, a textbook Toshinori gave to her. He said that his own mentor had given that to him to help learn control and moderation of his quirk. She studied it religiously, and surprisingly, it was beginning to work. She had less and less incidents where she had to go to the infirmary or have to extensively heal herself. The training still hurt like hell, but it was less serious.

“Y/N, you’ve been studying a lot lately. Something up?”

“Just trying to get over my weaknesses. Figured I wasn’t working hard enough.” 

Just as Aizawa was about to say something else, a loud, excitable voice yelled from a few meters away. “Y/N!”

It was The Toshinori Yagi, the best student at UA. To think two weeks ago, they were telling her he would never know her name. Turns out he already knew, and apparently they were friendly with each other. Oboro’s eyes widened and he elbowed Hizashi beside him, who was jamming on his headphones. Aizawa’s eyes only narrowed. 

Her eyes lit up at the sight of the blond boy. He walked over to her seat and leaned his hip on the table, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “You’re really studying that book I gave you, huh? Even at lunch?”

“Of course! I have to do all I can before training.”

“You’ll be fine. You’ve been improving like crazy these past few weeks.”

These past few weeks? Just how long had they been talking?

He smiled kindly at her, and she blushed, hiding her face toward the table. It was weird for the boys to see their little Y/N talking with a boy other than them. And while two of them were ecstatic she seemed to have bagged the hottest boy in the school, one was particularly stormy about it.

“Well, I just stopped by to tell you, you look really beautiful today! You’ve been practically glowing with confidence lately; it’s a really good look on you.”

“O-Oh, thanks, Toshi-kun.”

“I just call it like I see it, Y/N,” he winked, and that sent her heart into overdrive. “Well, I’ve got to go eat, but I’ll meet you outside class later?”

“Yep.”

He left for his table with his super cool friends, leaving her sitting there a flustered, awkward mess. She shoved some rice into her mouth and chewed, trying to hide her embarrassment.

“Sooo, you gonna explain what that was?!” Yamada cried out, clutching at his chest. “Your vibes were too intense, I almost couldn’t handle it.”

She waved the boy off with her hand, trying to downplay it all. ‘It’s really nothing. He’s just helping me train. He has a really good handle on damage control, since we both have stockpile type quirks. I’ve actually gotten somewhat better since then.”

“Seemed like more than that, L/N-chan,”

“I’m telling you, he's just a really, really friendly guy. That compliment was just a friendly one.”

Aizawa sighed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re so dumb, Y/N. He seems like he’s playing with you.” He said it so matter-of-factly, and she glared at him. 

“I’ll have you know he’s been helping me a lot with my training but also my healing. He’s very kind and always helps me with anything. He’s never once shown signs he’s not genuine.”

“That’s what a narcissist does to get you comfortable with them, stupid.”

“Can’t you just believe that my crush actually wants to be friends with me and help me? That he’s not just some malicious monster?” When he rolled his eyes, she stood up abruptly, grabbing her book and shoving it into her bag. He sat up quickly and went to grab her wrist, but she moved out of the way swiftly. 

“Aw, come on, L/N. Dudette-” Yamada whined, but he knew that Aizawa’s jealousy was getting to the tipping point for the girl. Years went by of him just pushing her away from other guys who liked her and were genuinely kind. Whatever Toshinori was doing with her seemed to give her enough strength to reject the boy’s malice words.

A little bit of him was even proud, the loudmouth admitted to himself. 

 She kept her head held high, eyes glaring down at the long-haired scruffy boy. He’d never seen her like this: standing up for herself. If she were angry at anyone else, he would be cheering her on, but now he just felt furious. How could she be angry with him? He’d been there since they were children and she just leaves because of some blond himbo. 

Her words cut clear in the bustling lunchroom. “I don’t need any negativity right now, Aizawa. If all you want to do is bring me down, then so be it.” After slinging her bag over her shoulder and grabbing her tray, she waved and walked away. As they watched her, she approached the table of her new friend, who greeted her happily. She sat next to Toshinori with a smile on her face, one that Aizawa hadn’t seen directed at him in weeks. 

Maybe he was wrong to be bitter, but he just couldn’t believe there wasn’t some conspiracy to all this. How is it that the coolest guy in school goes for Y/N? He thought she was amazing, he had for years, but no one else ever thought that. 

Whatever, it didn’t matter anyway. She could do whatever she wanted, and if she got her feelings hurt, so be it.

_________________________________

The pair sat outside the school as always. She munched on an icecream bar from the cafeteria while he leaned back, arm across her shoulders and his eyes drawn to the sky, fading from dimmed orange into deep violet. He had guilt hanging over his head the past few weeks, and it was finally time for him to explain himself. 

“I can’t believe we’re done. School went by too quick.”

“I think it goes by faster when you’re fighting evil a couple days a week.”

She nodded, humming in agreement. Her senior year was full of battles, emotional and physical. She was broken to bits when her friend Oboro died or when Toshinori was left to mourn his mentor and they only had each other. Being a hero comes with a cost, but no one expects to be 17 and watch the people they love die all around them. It’s worse when you’re strong enough that you know you could have saved them but you just didn’t. “It was worse than I imagined. I know we’re going to do this for our whole lives, but I don’t want it to hurt as much.”

“That’s why you have to always be better than the villains, Y/N. I know I’m going to be.”

 She tucked the clean popsicle stick into her bookbag when she was done with it, not wanting to throw it on the ground. Her hand found its way to his, curling her smaller fingers gently around his. Her smile was all too bright, a trait of his that seemed to grow on her the longer they spent together. “We’ll do it together, right? You and me on top of the charts, just like we dreamed of?”.

He relished in the warmth of her hand pressed to his, even if it was just a friendly. He was going to miss moments like this, dreams of the two of them...All that planning for nothing. He sighed, his eyes going from the sky to the dirt beneath their feet. “Y/N, I have something to tell you.”

With a furrowed brow, she asked, “What’s up?” It couldn’t be bad...

“Tomorrow I’m leaving for America. I don’t know how long.”

“What do you mean you’re leaving for America tomorrow?” Y/N asked her best friend, eyes wide with fear. He knew he should have told her earlier, but he couldn’t explain why he was leaving, and he knew the more time she knew the greater chance he would reveal the reason. She couldn’t know about All For One. It would only put her in danger.

He sighed, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. “I have to go to America. I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you before-”

“I can’t believe this. You waited until the day before to tell me I’ll basically never see you again. You expect me to be satisfied with a two minute goodbye today and just forget about you- about everything?” she asked, a stone sinking to the pit of her stomach. She felt like she was going to cry or get sick. How could he do this to her? 

“I know. I know. I should have told you sooner but I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I just can’t tell you.”

That answer wasn’t good enough. It was wrong to pry, but the betrayal was too much for her to handle rationally.

She turned her head away from him, staring bitterly at the wall beside her. She refused to meet his eyes. “I thought I could trust you.You’re one of my closest friends, Toshi, but now I know you don’t care. If you cared you would have at least given me a heads up, maybe spent more time with me before you just decide to abandon me,” she sneered, the anger building up in her chest. “You’re too good for someone like me. Shota-kun was right this whole time. Everytime he told me you were just playing with me, that you didn’t actually care about me; he was right, wasn’t he?”

All Might shook his head, trying to reach out to grab her, bring her back to his side. He didn’t want her to turn against him now. He didn’t want to say goodbye with her hating him, her last memory of him being so terrible. Still, she jumped away from her seat, stumbling over her feet to get away from him. “Don’t touch me.”

“Y/N, please. I just want this goodbye to be happy.”

“Goodbyes are never fucking happy, Yagi. You’re so stupid.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“How could you not?” Y/N bit back her sadness, letting anger take over. “Just forget it. It’s not worth fighting over. You’re leaving, so goodbye. Maybe we’ll see each other again, maybe not. But just know, I would have done anything to stay by your side if you really cared about me.” With those words lingering in the air, she turned on her heel and started to walk away. 

“Y/N, please don’t go yet,” he paused, trying to gather himself. She was walking away, her back turned and her head hung.  “I love you.”

But she didn’t turn around. What was the point now? She’d lost him already, no use in saying anything back or confessing her love as well. He would still be leaving tomorrow, and they would probably never see each other again. It would break her heart to run back there and hug him, confess her long time feelings to the boy. They were never an item. Maybe if he stayed, they could have been something more. 

If he really loved her, he wouldn’t leave her behind. If he really loved her, he would have shut his mouth before those three little words, and saved her the broken heart.

Part Two is up!

[azucanela]

SOME WORDS ARE BETTER LEFT UNSAID

SUMMARY: In which there is an unspoken agreement between everyone not to discuss the clear chemistry between the manager and the captain of the Nekoma Volleyball Club. Until one day one of them gets tired of the silence.

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

WARNINGS: trust issues, denial, insecurities, everyone needs a hug, angst? 

A/N: please excuse any errors made i wrote this at 4AM, but hey creative juices are flowing during the oddest hours of the day so. also our king kenma makes an appearance so its worthy reading i swear

There was an unspoken agreement between the notorious manager of the Nekoma Volleyball Club, and the Captain. Though her beauty rivaled that of the Karasuno manager, no one addressed it purely because they knew the way Kuroo Tetsuro looked at her. No matter how many movies there are about unspoken feelings, none of them could compare to these two. The shared looks as they sat in class, bored. Kuroo would make sure she was eating properly, she would ensure he was staying hydrated when staying after school for Volleyball. Kuroo helped her pass any and every science class by tutoring her when necessary, she helps him pass his foreign language class. The texts, the late night calls, the times when one would ask the other to come over and they would, no questions asked. Taking care to slip out of the other’s bed at 4AM to make sure they didn’t get caught. Silent, intimate moments.

Kuroo was sitting on the couch, flicking through channels, moving between Netflix and Hulu in search of something good to watch. She was making popcorn when he got bored and left his seat on the couch to enter the kitchen, leaning his shoulder against the wall to watch her movements. She was slicing fruit, and a block of cheese waited next to the cutting board as she did, waiting for the popcorn to finish. Her hair was down, and she was wearing one of his shirts. It was oversized on her, covering her thighs. He was smiling as he moved from his spot against the wall up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his head into her neck. She hummed in response, leaning back into him as she continued to cut the fruit.

For a moment, he could pretend that they weren’t just friends. Because this definitely is not something friends do. Friends don’t hold hands, much less hold each other, they don’t look at each other the way Kuroo looked at her, they don’t care for eachother, not like this.

“Are they dating?”

He’d get asked this question constantly. Kenma would always shake his head, tell them no, they aren’t. Though they are most certainly two of the most in love people he knows. His best friends weren’t even dating, and yet he still felt like the third wheel. How ironic. Now Kenma wasn’t one to interfere with the lives of others, but it was getting ridiculous, so he tried to get involved, once. 

He didn’t bother looking up from his game as he asked, “Why don’t you tell Kuroo how you feel?” Pausing only once to gauge Y/N’s reaction.

She didn’t seem startled, or shocked, in fact, she laughed, “I don’t like Kuroo, silly.” Y/N had told him. “He and I are just close friends, besides you know I’m not looking for a relationship.” She had mentioned this in the past, most people assumed it was because she had feelings for Kuroo. Smart people knew it was because she had feelings for Kuroo.

Kenma raised a brow, “you both act like you two are in a relationship.” Was his response, putting his game down, “and it hurts him because he knows it's not real. If you really don’t feel that way for him, don’t lead him on.”

This statement seemed to hurt her as she became defensive, “I have told him countless times to consider the offers from all the girls in this school, believe me. I agree with you, he shouldn’t wait for someone who doesn’t feel the same.” She paused, hand tapping the table anxiously, “good thing he doesn’t feel anything beyond platonic feelings for me.”

Kenma knew she wasn’t dumb, not by a long shot. Top of her class, heading off to an amazing college, no doubt. Yet, her words seemed so stupid. “You must be blind.” Came his blunt answer. Anyone could see how Kuroo felt for her.

She scoffed, “there’s simply nothing to see. He doesn’t like me, I don’t like him. Why would he like me?” Y/N was staring at her hands, trying to ignore the discomfort Kenma was causing with his prying. Her tendency to overthink doing her no good as she sighed, “I do hope he finds someone, he deserves it.”

It took Kenma a moment to realize that Y/N was trying to convince herself, not him, and it took him another moment to realize that she was truly wondering why Kuroo would like her. And he knew she was being honest, she had tried to get him to go for other girls, but he never had out of loyalty to her. She had even been in one relationship during their first year, the two were going strong for a while.

Until they weren’t. And Kuroo ended up punching the guy in the face. 

When Kenma asked Kuroo if he liked her, he just sighed. They both knew the answer. Kuroo had slept around a lot in their first year, but that had come to a halt more recently. At one point he even tried for a long term relationship with one girl.

She didn’t like Y/N. So that didn’t last.

And now that Kenma had just turned into his neighborhood, bidding you two goodbye as he headed home, just like he did everyday during the walk back from Volleyball practice, the atmosphere felt awkward. Something felt different today as Y/N and Kuroo walked down the path together, his eyes following her figure as he stayed practically glued to her side.

If she was honest, yes, she liked Kuroo. Loved him even. But there were several issues with that, one being that Kuroo is her best friend. She had found someone she could talk to, about any and everything. No filter necessary. No matter how gross, or sad, or weird it was, they could discuss it. She knew she could trust him 100%. Yet, each time he broached the possibility of a relationship she shut him down. She was scared of losing this comfort they had, they would break up eventually. Even if they didn’t things would be different. And in the back of her mind she wondered if he’d leave her. The one constant in her life, gone.

She didn’t like change.

Another issue was that they would graduate at one point. And then head off in what would likely be two very different directions, literally. She had her sights set on a prestigious American college, he just wanted to study Chemistry. Maybe they’d stay in touch, maybe they wouldn’t. Potential time differences caused by living in different countries would make it a struggle and so would conflicting schedules, and stress. And even now, he already had volleyball and school to worry about already.

It would be easier for them both if they just didn’t get together. Which is why, when she realized how comfortable they had been getting, she tried to slow things down. A lot. She started sitting next to Kenma during lunch instead of Kuroo, and began hanging out with the other Volleyball boys far more often. She had been far less physical with him, avoiding most contact with him in general. Taking a rain check each time he asked to hang out, avoiding his calls as often as she could without seeming off. She had been distant, to put it simply.

She missed her best friend, but she knew she couldn’t call him that at this point.

Kuroo had noticed. He always noticed. He noticed the way she got quiet when someone commented on how she was a little too passionate about something, so he asked her about it. He noticed how she’d forget to eat during lunch sometimes, so he would give her a protein bar. He’d notice how when she was nervous, she would bite her nails, or tap her foot at a ridiculous speed. He noticed how when she was sad, she tried to feign joy and boost the morale of those around her, but she still seemed more reserved in a way.

He noticed her. In all her glory, the smell of her shampoo, the scent of her perfume, the glow of her skin in the sunlight, the way her nose crinkled when she laughed her real laugh. How her eyes seemed to shine when she talked about her dreams, the crease in her forehead when she was concentrated. The tears that brimmed her eyes when she talked about certain scenes from her favorite shows and books.

Which is why he got scared when she stopped sharing these things with him, when she stopped giving him hugs, when she stopped calling him at 2AM even though he knew she was awake because of her messed up sleep schedule.

So, as they walked together, he decided this needed to end.

“We need to talk.” He said, eyes on her.

She raised a brow, “what about?” God, she hoped playing dumb would work, but she had tried that with Kenma, and it hadn’t ended all that well. Then again, Kenma did end up dropping the subject, though it took a few tries. 50/50 success rate. What could go wrong?

She watched as Kuroo rolled his eyes, “you know what.” He replied, “also you have been avoiding me.”

She shrugged, “I’ve been busy. I do have things to do, a life. Outside of you.” She held her backpack straps significantly tighter as she spoke, “sorry if you’re feeling neglected.” The words came out meaner than she had expected, and Y/N suddenly found herself feeling guilty as she continued down the street.

“Y/N.” He came to a stop, and she walked a few more steps before stopping as well. Taking a deep breath as she looked upwards, towards the sky. Turns out a lot could go wrong with a 50/50 success rate.

“Kuroo.” Her voice sounded a lot like a warning. “Some things are better left unsaid.”

Thought the finality in her voice hurt, he couldn’t help but scoff, “don’t be ridiculous. I mean, look where that’s gotten us-”

“Kuroo, please.” She turned around to face him, “don’t.”

His eyes locked with hers as he replied, “I’m in love with you.” And now it was out in the open. The thing she had so desperately tried to hide. The feelings she wanted to pretend didn’t exist. 

Y/N inhaled sharply, fidgeting with her hands impatiently, she just wanted to get home. She had always hated confrontations, perhaps that was the reason why she said it. It could’ve been one of the reasons she’d been repeating to herself since their second year. Or maybe the words that left her mouth were true.

“Too bad I don’t feel the same.”

No, they weren’t true. She just wished they were.

[onelastbreath-writes]

I’ll Meet You There (Part 1)

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/ Wife!Reader (AFAB, no y/n)

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Mentions child loss, loss of a spouse, survivor’s guilt, vague references to suicide/suicidal thoughts after loss of child (all located in the first 500 words, so it’s brief and not too dark, but please take care) and violence, swearing, and action/fighting.

Summary: What if Marcus’s wife didn’t actually die? What if she and a few others were kidnapped during an attack on Heroics’ HQ, and then held captive for years without realizing? If the only thing you “remember” from your past is that your husband and daughter were killed, well, you surely wouldn’t want to go back to the people who you believe did it. But maybe, with the help of a tenacious child and some re-awaking parental instincts, you’ll be able to break through the brainwashing and forced amnesia, and find your way home.

Tags: Hurt/No comfort (for now), ANGST, eventual happy ending, one really sad man for whom I just keep making things worse, #sorrynotsorry

A/N: This is my first We Can Be Heroes fic, and first reader fic, so please be gentle. I’ve got the rest of the story outlined, so I hope I can get down to writing and posting it soonish, but my RL is busy and doesn’t leave much time/energy for quick updates. If you like it and want me to do a taglist, let me know so you can know when I update again. Also a big thank you to the amazing Jay @disgruntledspacedad​ and her fic The Right Thing for inspiring this one, and for allowing me to use her wife!reader idea. Please go check her blog out, and give her some love <3

AO3 Masterlist

---

“You’ve been in a terrible accident, Doctor, and I regret to inform you of your husband’s and daughter’s passing. Our rescue and recovery efforts after the incident were unfortunately unsuccessful, and you have our deepest sympathies.”

It took months for those words to even sink into you; months before you even remembered anything about who you were... the accident, or the attack, as it was more commonly known by you and the other victims, took your entire life away in an instant. You survived, physically, but at the cost of your partner? Your child? All the memories of your life together? How could you be worth it?

“Your transcripts and accomplishments are phenomenal, Doctor, and I’m in need of talented and capable individuals such as yourself to help right the wrongs, and demand justice, from those who have committed such heinous acts against us. The Heroics are murderers, destroyers of peace, and they have gotten away with their crimes for far too long. They’ve been praised and applauded and worshipped as gods while all they truly are, are terrorists. How many more innocent lives can we allow to be lost to their carelessness? ‘For the greater good’ is quite the insult when the people saying such things aren’t the ones losing their families to the chaos, wouldn’t you agree? Join me, Doctor, and we can make a difference.”

It was easy decision for you, even in the early days of your recovery. From the distant and foggy memories of your past, your anguish in what you could recall, you knew that if you could stop someone else from having to feel the loss and pain that comes from losing their spouse and children, you would do so in a heartbeat.

Your husband had been an incredible man, your Everything, you would imagine, going by the ache in your heart when you thought of being without him. His name, his appearance; that was all lost to you when you lost him. His existence in what could be healed of your memories was just a shadow, a shade, the vague impression of the man you loved. You remembered his warmth, his kindness and gentleness, his love and devotion to you and the child you created together.

And your beautiful baby girl... if thoughts of your husband left your heart aching, then thoughts of your daughter left you in unparalleled agony, completely inconsolable. You tried to avoid thinking of her, if you were being honest, tried to leave all what-ifs and could’ve/should’ve/would‘ve’s behind... you had worked with people, mothers, who had lost children before, had seen them tear themselves apart in their grief, taking the blame for something that was in no way their fault; you had seen them destroy their lives with their hoarded guilt and perceived crimes... you couldn’t allow yourself to fall for that, those falsehoods, you had to be alive if you wanted to honour your child and husband’s sacrifice.  

“We will make them pay for what they’ve done to us, Doctor, I promise you that. Together, we can get justice for your husband, for your little Missy.”

---

Marcus knew something was wrong as soon as his commlink started transmitting static instead of his teammates’ conversations. The Heroics had been deployed to stop a hoard of rogue security androids that were infected by a virus or something (he couldn’t usually follow the technobabble), which had led them to escape their testing facility and target nearby civilians with their advanced weapons technology.

Evacuating the citizens trapped in the line of fire was the team’s first objective, and once the area was cleared of potential victims, they moved onto the containment and neutralization of the enemy combatants. The Heroics team was decently cohesive; they could work together to ensure the protection of innocent lives while in a firefight, but once the civilians were in the clear and the stakes not so high, the supersized egos of the members emerged with a fiery passion. This particular firefight was no different.

“Hey ‘Legend, bet you a week of incident reports that my count is higher!” Miracle Guy’s voice broke out over the ‘link, as eager to show-boat as ever, from where he was steadily piling up his deactivated attackers.

“I’ll take that action, Miracle, easy. It’ll be like taking candy from a baby!” Crimson Legend wasn’t the type of person who could ignore a bet, especially one issued from Miracle.  “You’re probably so behind already that you don’t even stand a chance, ha!”

Of course, they just had to make it a game, keep the superiority contest going; like a single mistake couldn’t cost them a life or a limb. And just to further prove how amazingly mature the rest of Marcus’s team of Adult Superheroes were, they all started in on the bet too.  

“If I beat your totals, I want a week off from training!”

“Ha! Like any of you have a chance of winning against me! I want my on-call weekend, off”

“If I win, you’re all my personal slaves for the rest of the day!”

Did Marcus say Adult Superheroes? He meant infants.  

And they had started the mission so well, communicating and strategizing, actual teamwork instead of bickering and joking around like children. Hell, even their children didn’t get into as much trouble as their parents could.  

“Guys, it’s really not the best time to be playing around. We need to focus on-” He was cut off by the loud static burst of an out-of-range radio. Shit. That’s not good. If his comms unit was fried, he couldn’t direct his teammates, couldn’t keep track of them, couldn’t help them.

They were pretty spread out by now, giving everyone room to use their powers without worrying about another Heroic getting caught in the blast zone. He knew from their most recent locational sound off that Crushing Low and Invisi Girl were working together near the intersection two streets over from him, and if he could make his way over to them, he could figure out what was going on.

Marcus needed to know if it was just his commlink that was out of commission, or if their entire network had gone down. The former scenario was a minor inconvenience, the latter was a major issue. Either he’d have to lead his team by correspondence, or he’d have to worry about them being completely alone in the field, without support from HQ, and without any chance of backup or rescue.  

He couldn’t worry about the details now, he had to keep focused on finishing off the seemingly endless wave of androids. Androids with guns. Androids with guns that he was trying to kill with a pair of katanas... Maybe he hadn’t thought his primary weapon for this mission out very well... It was just something that he’d have to come back to later. For now: sword, robot, teammates.

---

They didn’t pay him enough for this. He should have gone into acting like he had planned before his powers manifested. This sort of shit didn’t happen to actors.  

Marcus had destroyed all the androids delaying him from reaching his nearest teammates and was finally able to move to their location with relative ease and only minor distraction. He could see Crushing Low laying waste to the few remaining functional robots in the area, and could assume that Invisi Girl was around somewhere, disabling any downed but not dead enemies while protecting ‘Low’s back.  

He was proven right when he heard a feminine voice call for him to “hit the deck, Moreno!”.

“Thanks Vis! You two doing alright? What’s your comms sitch?” He stood back up straight, just missing being nailed in the head by a flying metal limb had it not been for her heads-up.

“We’re a-okay! Comms are out though. No known damage to them, no knocks or surges, might be the tech, or it might be the channel. We’ll have to see what Tech-No thinks.” She was still invisible, but Marcus could imagine her animated expressions and movements. She was one of the most... normal... of the Heroics, if normal could ever be used to describe any of the team. Reliable and observant, with a good sense of battle strategy. He greatly appreciated her skills and efficiency in the field; she and Tech-No being the most down-to-earth of the Heroics, most willing to help him keep the peace between the rest of them.

“I’ll watch Low’s back if you can go find Tech. We need to know what’s going on, ASAP. If all the comms are down, and Tech can’t get them back up, I need you to find everyone and tell them to meet back at the robotics facility. Get Miracle and Fast to help if you can. If anyone’s injured, they’re your first priority, okay? Thanks, Vis.”

---

Getting every member of the Heroics team back together took nearly an hour, all coming fresh from the fight but thankfully not too banged up or bruised. They set up a perimeter once enough of the team had arrived to their meeting spot, allowing Tech-No to deep-dive into  investigating their communications malfunction.

“It’s the network, not our comms. We’re dealing with a drop either from HQ’s side, or a forced drop here from RFI. But considering the standard distance and all the buildings and stuff around us, a radio frequency jammer wouldn’t be able to block our communications network as far out as we were. We must assume that the problem comes from HQ. which presents further concerns, obviously. I designed most of the technology there myself, so I know exactly how much work it would be to take down the whole system. We need to consider this as part of a bigger plot, and plan accordingly.” Tech-No’s eventual explanation hang heavy in the air, no one willing to break the silence following it... If something had happened to HQ… Their co-workers were there, their friends, their children…  

Marcus thought of his daughter and wife. They were both there today. His wife worked in the medical centre, and they brought their daughter there for daycare. If something happened there... shit. If he was panicking about his family already, his teammates were doing the same. He had to head this off. He couldn’t let this get out of control. He took a breath and squared his shoulders. It was time to be Marcus Moreno the leader of the Heroics, not Marcus the husband and father. Lead by example, they’re all counting on you.

“We have no proof that anything is actually wrong, and until we know for sure why we can’t reach them, we need to do our jobs. Finish the mission. We’ve always trusted our people to hold down the fort at home so we can help people out here, and they’ve never let us down before. We are not going to doubt them now, understood? Whatever happened? We know HQ is doing their best to keep our loved ones safe. So, we finish up here, quickly and thoroughly, and then we head back to base. Let’s get moving,” He met his teammates’ eyes, allowed them to witness his own fears, but also his stubborn determination. He wasn’t asking them to ignore or dismiss their worries, but rather, put it into finishing the mission so they could go home sooner.  

No one fought him; thankfully just picked their tasks and headed out.  

“Tech, we need transport. Now. I don’t care how you do it, just get it done, alright?” Marcus refused to acknowledge the slight tremble in his voice, tried to breathe around the lump in his throat and the dread sinking in his stomach. He desperately stopped himself from thinking about coincidences and probabilities. This was all a fluke, a random string of events that didn’t mean anything more was going on. They’d be able to laugh about it when they got home and saw everything was just as they’d left it. He had to believe that. He didn’t have any other choice.

—-

Transport home turned out to be a military helicopter big enough to fit the whole team, in addition to the fully outfitted squad of soldiers already inside.

“According to the press release your director gave, there was small but powerful group of gifted individuals who invaded Heroics’ Headquarters, intending to either kidnap or kill certain “important personnel” within the building. Didn’t specify much more than that, other than that your organization would be dedicating as much manpower as they could to bring “those who would cause such destruction and terror” to justice. The address was filmed in the parking lot, but there were a lot of emergency responders and vehicle in the background. I’m sorry we can’t tell you anything more, but well, we were scrambled to your location ASAP, barely had time for the news we got...” The staff sergeant sitting across from Marcus briefed the team about what the intel they had on the HQ attack. And that was what it was. An attack. The thing they all feared most.

“Thank you for the information, and for the ride back home; we lost communication in the middle of a battle, with no clue as to why. Now, at least, we have an idea of what we should expect when we arrive.” The mention of “important personnel” jump-started Marcus’s heart into overdrive. That was the code phrase they used when describing their most vulnerable people to the public, non-combatants and injured persons usually; a smokescreen meant to dissuade targeted attacks, and shift attention away from those who couldn’t protect themselves in the case of an emergency. It was also the code that frequently represented their children.  

The families of the Heroics were classified as high-risk targets; villains and enemies of their organization didn’t often have the moral decency to leave their loved ones out of the fight. So, to afford as much anonymity and protection possible, any time the team had to reference their partners and children in physical records and documentation, it was under that code phrase.  

This attack was centred on their kids.  

What kind of monster do you have to be to go after a bunch of kindergarten and primary school children?

Fuck.

The only good news was that there was no mention of the attack being a success.  

So, all the Heroics knew for certain was that a group of villains had tried to get to their children, and while obviously causing significant damage to HQ, they had been stopped. Were unsuccessful. The Home Team had saved the day again.  

Marcus thanked every deity he could think of for keeping his and his friends’ kids safe.  

The rest of the flight home was quiet. Him and teammates finally able to get some rest after all the fighting and panic, and the soldiers conversing just loud enough to be heard over the headsets and hum of the chopper’s motors.  

He was pulled back from the edge of unconsciousness he had been drifting along for a while when the pilot gave them their five-minute ETA.

They were home at long last, and everything was going to be just fine.

---

[Next Part]

[transformationstuck]

Amalagam Story

Jane was practically sick of trolls at this point. Ever since the entire fiasco had went down, her father gone, and the rise of complaints against her campaign by the majority of the troll population, she wanted them gone from this Earth. It had been a single month since she had deported most of the trolls using small legal constraints to other planets, where they’d continue with their meaningless banter of trying to disobey her. Why, she had been trying her hardest to conform the trolls to her ways, and look where that got her! Nowhere. Frankly, the next time she was going to see a candy corn horn, there was going to be a reckoning.

And yet there was no avoiding it. The twelve initial trolls who had assisted in the beta session remained within the galaxy. Some were taken care of, however discretely. She had devised Nepeta’s ship to crash into one of the deadliest planet to ever live in, and while she expectantly made herself the apex predators against all the face-sucking, marrow-gnawing monstrosities that lived on the planet, she had no way out. Kanaya was permanently disposed off with Rose after an indefinite honeymoon, with a small gift. Perhaps calling it small was the wrong thing, but she sure hoped Rose enjoyed pounding onto her wife like an animal in heat, because that’s practically what those two would be. Both Aradia and Vriska were off the books, considering the former was always missing and off doing something and the latter was currently the leader of the rebellion against her. Terezi and Feferi were far too important people in her campaign to even consider removing their existence, so she would have to simply tolerate them. After all, any legal issues regarding trolls would be pushed by the Pyrope and the former Heiress gave her such political power with her blood color. That left, coincidentally, all the male trolls.

And wasn’t it John’s birthday soon anyways? Might as well prepare him a gift.

——–

The first one was easy. All it took was two drones, a burlap sack, and there was a rather large lump of troll in front of her desk, with two ridiculously large horns protruding out of it.

“I didn’t ask for him to literally bring him to me. Look at the mess he’s making on the carpet! That’s just vacuumed! Get him out of here!”

The drones obeyed, though finding themselves difficulty immediately upon a certain conundrum.

“Tilt him sideways. SIDEWAYS! Why are you rotating him vertically? I meant horizontally! I know the horn is stuck. Just back off, don’t use brute force and…”

CRACK!

As Jane felt a pressure build on her neck, she decided that whenever trolls were involved, so were her migraines.

———

“… What did I tell you about bringing him to me LITERALLY? Again with the carpet? Do you know how difficult honey is to wipe off a carpet? Have you even baked before? Obviously you haven’t baked before, but I’ll do it myself this time. Just… dump him! In the vat! Now shoo!”

———–

“… Just put a sock in his mouth and get it over with.”

———-

“Yoo hoo, handsome. I got a surprise for you~.” The hallway was empty save for a lumbering figure, who seemed rather confused and tilting his head quizically, to the point where his head was rotating in a perpendicular manner. That was most certainly not the way a head should rotate, and the fact that she was wearing nothing but a single sheet of apron was already making her feel more vulnerable.

“Come on, handsome. I know you want it.” She held up a pie, which was green and what she would consider the complete disregard for basic culinary needs. A single whiff was more than enough to make her feel disgusted, and she wondered how anyone could even take a bite off of it.

Still no response, which meant that she had to bring out the big guns. Taking a deep breath, Jane winked, twice, and each wink followed by a short honk.

That did it, as the juggalo basically launched himself, erect cock showing through his stupid codpiece, and Jane found herself wanting to fall for the same mistake of letting the clown in her bedsheet again.

Click.

As Gamzee fell down the trapdoor she had long since set up in case something like this would ever happen, Jane sighed with relief, rubbing her head, and massaging her boob. “God, I actually should get a dick some time soon… And preferably not a clown’s…”

———

“… Excuse me, correct me if I’m hearing this right.”

A rather muscular troll, sweating profusely and smelling like a hung horse and a broken engine sat in front of her desk. The poor furniture was now drenched, and already a dark circle was forming underneath the carpet.

“You want in on this project. After I kidnapped you friends? Condemn them to a horrible experiment that’ll leave their body gone, potentially the mind, and you want in on this?”

A nod. And a sigh from her direction, before she tugged lightly on the rope that was currently binding Equius’s neck.

“You know I was going to disregard you since you were somewhat helpful, right?”

Another nod. Another tug. The troll’s face began to glow bluer by the second, but that deranged smile of him absolutely wanting this behind the leather restraints made her think of all trolls were like this.

Especially when he had been like this for the past three hours.

“I swear, trolls…” She waved to her drones to take him away, but it seemed like the ingredients were complete.

Though she felt like she was forgetting something, she was sure it wasn’t that important if she could remember it.

———

In front of her stood approximately 1000 lb of troll flesh, complete with 5 pairs of horns, 5 pairs of misplaced arms and legs, the most obvious bulges ever, some obviously aroused, and few facial features which she proceeded to shut up. The process was going to be painstakingly simple, as she started to channel the Life into the body.

It hadn’t taken much for her to channel the five into a single blob majorly for safekeeping. She couldn’t risk any of them breaking out and spoiling her plan, so she had made them into what was a large meatball, feeding them all the surplus baked goods until they grew fat and complacent, and practically no traces of bone structure remained from the excessive flesh gained from consumption.

Push, knead. Push, knead. Minute by minute, the flesh began to sink underneath her hands, folding and mixing until gray became pink, round shape forming into more humanoid, a thousand pounds now beginning to dwindle into approximately one tenth of its original weight.

It was then that she called John.

“John.” She said with a quick, snappy tone that immediately informed her ecto-grandson that she meant business. “If you were looking for a relationship, what would you look for in a woman?”

“… What?” A click of her tongue immediately made John regret questioning Jane. There was something about her that intimidated him ever since her campaign began, but still, the question remained. “I mean… Nice, I guess? If you are asking about her personality o-”

“I meant a sexual relationship. Jesus Christ, get on with it!”

“Right, right. So uh… huge boobs.” Silence from her end was interpreted as a signal to continue as she proceeded to knead whatever was left over into a round shape, over the currently very flat chest with little to no definition. “I mean, some serious honkers. A real set of badonkers, packing some dobonhonkeros. Massive dohoonkabankl-”

“John!”

“Right… Uh… Big ol’ tonhongerekoogers.” With that, John paused, and added, “And some thighs please. I like them thick.”

———–

It wasn’t long before Jane was done, staring at her masterpiece she had taken three hours of pure Life to create. An hourglass figure, melon-sized titties, and the very definition of thunder thighs. It wasn’t long before they started moving, which, at that point, she wasn’t exactly sure what happened. One moment they had been lying down unconscious, the next thing, they were, and each limbs proceeded to move completely independent of each other. It wasn’t until she stuffed the horse-dildo in their seemingly very aroused entrance with rough force did they proceed to break out of her lab through sheer willpower.

It wasn’t long before she found her, though not directly. She had left her be for now, and it seemed that, as intended, John had found her first.

The various names mixed together had mistakenly led John to believe she was named “Etiquette.” Though a strange name, she had come a long way from being five different trolls to one hot little body. Sure, disjointed complaints and moans of pleasure occasionally seemed to confuse John, as well as her habit of talking to herself, but once she got in bed, he had no complaints. Sometimes she demanded a larger dildo stuffed down her ass. Sometimes she wanted to do nothing but videogames. Sometimes she started honking like a clown as she rode John cowgirl style, which obviously terrified John as much as it aroused him. It did leave Jane to wonder if they all shared an internal voice, or argued over what to do next, seizing control or each other? Or perhaps they got adapted to controlling their body in a uniform style? Or perhaps all of their personality got melded into one. Jane could potentially find out, but decided against it. As she closed the feed of John pounding Etiquette to the next pleasure-town, the way her fingers and toes twitched, her arms and legs occasionally moving as opposed to how she was acting, she knew that at the very least she got rid of an eyesore.

[antivirus-mh-au]

Antivirus - Chapter 2

TW: None Chapter 1 here Ao3 link If you like this, please leave a like, reblog, or send me an ask! It encourages me so much.

He blew the smoke from his mouth around the cigarette, the morning sun catching all the particles as they floated into the air. Tim drew the J on top of the fresh carton and dropped the pen onto the dashboard. Pulling the cigarette from his mouth, he drew in a deep breath of fresh air, fresh as you could get at a gas station by a highway. Looking around the parking lot, at the people filing in and out, he shook his head and gave a wry smile. Hard not to be in a good mood when you got some decent sleep for once.

Becca and Lukas were okay. Lukas's leg had been taken care of, and the two had set back off for Idaho, back to the families that loved them. Another success case for Timothy Kane. Another group of people adding to the myth of his existence. Seemed like every month there were more of them. The Operator never tired. The sickness never eased. In fact, it only grew worse.

But like hell was he going to start off a good morning with that depressing shit. He'd gotten paid, gotten rest, and he'd found out where the nearest library was with free internet. He was not going to let a rare moment of peace escape him. He'd lost too much for that.

The library wasn't far away from the gas station he'd refilled at. By the time he pulled into the parking lot, it was open, as were the windows on the front of the building. He spoke briefly to the clerk at the front desk, making sure he understood their internet rules and that it was okay for him to bring in his thermos of coffee, before finding a convenient spot by a power outlet. 

His laptop was getting old, it took a while for it to boot up. As Tim waited, he thumbed through a newspaper. Experts predicting a war with China for the third time in as many years, conflict in the Middle East, the royal family in Britain getting roped into some scandal or another. That was why he didn't read the news much, it was always the same. By the time he got to the comics (never his favorite part of the newspaper), his laptop had finished, and Tim traded the two without a second thought.

He could and did check his email on his phone but he was old-fashioned and preferred to use his laptop when he had the chance. Earlier Becca's mother replied to his report about her daughter returning home, a message he'd saved in a special folder he looked at when he felt particularly shitty. 

Another email was waiting for him now, from a 'Meridith Frederickson'. Another client, looking for her son and his missing best friend. He replied to that one, offering to schedule a Zoom meeting later that same day. By now he knew all too well what happened if he wasn't on top of his cases. 

And of course, he had new messages in the spam folder. Tim glanced over the subjects of the emails without opening any of them. Some didn't have any, but most were vaguely threatening, the kind he usually got from trolls and kids. 'Always watching', 'there's no escape', 'how could you', and on and on and on. People thought they could get a rise out of him by acting like totheark, but none of them even came close to what Brian had been all those years ago. 

Tim glanced at the tab next to his email, frowning. There was no sense in trying to put it off, even if he hated doing it. Everything on that site made him feel worse, and today had been a pretty good day. But if he didn't look, he'd regret it later, falling into a rabbit hole of updates that was guaranteed to fuck him over. So he opened YouTube.

The videos were taken down years ago, the channels involved with Marble Hornets wiped from the website. But that didn't mean they were gone, just hidden away on Google Drives and shock sites. What was on YouTube was... the fandom.

It made his skin crawl thinking about it. People from all over the world were obsessed with what he and Jay had been through. He'd seen hundreds of articles about the videos, from five minute listicles to long analysises about the events and the people involved. He'd seen other things, too, things he'd rather not remember. Like the fanart...

Out of everything, though, it was the YouTube community that unsettled him the most. The passionate, wide eyed college kids. The naive high schoolers. The older people, with their backgrounds in criminal science and forensics and cryptids and God knew what else. They picked over the videos and tweets and codes like vultures at a pile of bones. Like it was just a fictional web series, like people he knew and once liked weren't dead. And they spread the disease. It didn't take all of them, leaving the YouTubers alone, but claiming their followers. It made him sick thinking about all the people he couldn't save, the people who had no one left to try and find them, the people who vanished into Rosswood Park and were never seen again. It made him sick, watching these ignorant people talk about his pain as if they were all insects under microscopes.

But if he didn't pay attention, who knew what might happen. The Operator was watching all of them. One slip up was all it took.

He scrolled through both the front page and his subscriptions. The videos were, in the end, all the same. Speculation, discussion, analyzation. Some of them he could watch later. Others needed his attention now.

Tim’s eyes landed on a video, and his heart clenched. The Neophyte was streaming again.

The still image didn’t show much. Neophyte_Calling didn’t put much work into his channel. It was just a shot of what the streams normally showed, pale, unkempt hands poking free from black robes, resting on an old plastic table. That was what he expected to find once he opened the stream.

And he’d be correct, that was what awaited him once he got the courage to click. The hands twitched and clenched and dug at the table. It wasn’t the hands that were special though, it was what the owner of those hands were saying.

“Autumn after firestorm, the nights don’t listen and the butter is on the corn. Ten days or twenty paces of living guts wrapped around an old man’s neck. The water comes up to your waist but you don’t feel the attitude of denial inside the bastard daughter’s heart. Oh, god, eureka, industry was never so smooth…”

Complete nonsense. The ramblings of a man on some kind of drug, or lost to some unknown mental illness. Despite this, the chat flooded with messages. Donations popped up occasionally, attempts to get the Neophyte’s attention. He didn’t notice. He never noticed. He just kept talking. And he would keep talking until the stream ended on its own, or he passed out on the table.

People called him a prophet. Claimed every word he spoke had a double, or even a triple, meaning. They recorded every word he said and discussed them among themselves, coming up with ‘translations’ for his maddening dialogue. And to be fair, they could have a point. Sometimes, what the Neophyte said did seem to foretell events that happened not long after he spoke them. But the god the Neophyte channeled was not one Tim would ever ask someone to worship.

Silence. The man stopped talking, his fidgeting hands resting flat on the table. Dread filled Tim’s body. Speak of the devil, he was doing this again?

The Neophyte spoke again, his voice deeper now. The words came clumsy from his mouth, uncomfortable, heavy, as if he had never spoken before. The emphasis, the tone, it was all wrong. Tim had no trouble understanding them, however.

“You always fight,” It said through the Neophyte’s mouth. “You always resist. You tire, and exhaust, and fall. You continue to fight despite.”

The robes shifted, the head hidden from the camera’s view tilting.

“Tim,” It said. “You are a grain of sand. I am eternal. I am here. I will always be here. You understand. You continue despite.”

On the side of the screen, the chat surged with messages. It raced so quickly, Tim couldn’t have read any of them even if he tried. He didn’t look away from the livestream. 

“Tim,” It said again. “Enough. You have fought hard. You are getting old. That’s enough. It’s time to come home. To us. To all of us.”

The hair stood up on his arms, on the back of Tim’s neck. He shuddered.

“Like hell,” he whispered, and closed the tab.

But even though he closed the livestream, he could swear he heard the Neophyte, the thing puppeting him, whisper in his mind.

“Coward.”

When 2pm rolled around, Tim was back in his van in the library parking lot. Obviously he couldn’t do a Zoom call inside the quiet space, but their internet reached well past the parking lot. He sat on his bed, now folded up like a couch inside the converted van he lived in. His laptop open before him, the program open and ready. Now he just had to wait for her.

Hard to say what this Meredith Fredrickson would expect a private investigator like him to look like, but Tim did his best to look presentable anyway. Hair combed, beard trimmed, leather jacket kept to the side out of her line of sight - leather jackets weren’t worn by authority figures, and that was what he was trying to be right now. Not anyone could do this job, but who’s to say she knew that? If she didn’t like the way he looked, she could try to find someone else to find her son and his friend. And if she did that, by the time she realized only Tim could help her, it would be too late.

Thinking about it that way made him shudder.

Of course, while he was prepared to deal with what she thought he would look like, he wasn’t as ready for what she herself would look like. As the call began, and Meredith’s face came on screen, Tim hesitated. He looked at her closely again. Had he seen this woman before?

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Fredrickson,” He greeted.

The woman shook her head, her curly brown hair tossing around her slim shoulders.

“Meredith is fine,” she said. “I haven’t been called ‘Mrs’ since my husband died. I changed back to my maiden name - my son’s last name will be his, not mine.”

“Of course,” Tim said. Odd information to include, but people tended to ramble when they were nervous.

He looked at her again, at the frown lines developing around her lips, and the worry and pain in her wide-set eyes. Behind her was a normal looking home, a few windows with pale curtains, a kitchen kept clean from what little he saw. Something was nagging at him. What was it?

“Did you fill out the information packet I requested?” He asked.

Meredith nodded.

“Yes.”

The file appeared, Tim half-listening to her as he opened it.

“I know this is a very strange thing to ask from you,” Meredith said. “But circumstances have changed in a way I really didn’t expect. I know it’s hard to believe that after ten years my son could be alive, but I don’t have any other explanation for…”

She trailed off. Tim didn’t look away from the document she’d sent. The names written on the very first line.

Missing People: Jay Merrick and Alex Kralie

Motherfucker, had he been tricked?

Tim shot the woman a sharp glance, examining her expression in seconds. She was not the first person to ask him to track down Jay and Alex, but she was the first he hadn’t screened out before it got this far. Most people were upfront about their intentions, or were obviously trolling, or he otherwise got weird vibes from them. This Meredith had slipped him by, and wasted his time in the process.

“He is my son,” Meredith said. “I’ve included his birth certificate, since I thought you might not believe me.”

“I don’t need it.” A birth certificate? Those weren’t easy to fake, but Tim was no expert on Photoshop either. 

“I would’ve included Alex’s, too,” Meredith continued. “After all the years he and Jay knew each other, you would’ve thought I’d have it too.” She laughed, and there was pain within it. “But his parents died in a car accident about six years back, and…”

“Wait.” Tim refocused. “Alex and Jay knew each other?”

“Since the first year of middle school,” Meredith said with a nod. “I have a lot of photos of them. You know, Jay went through a phase, where he wore all black, and listened to rock music with singers I couldn’t understand. He got a tattoo of one of the bands on his ankle behind my back. I was so angry...”

She laughed again, and her eyes went distant. Tim stared at her, his mind flashing back to all the conversations he’d had with Jay, things that didn’t go into the videos. Being Alex’s childhood friend, since middle school - the phases he went through as a teen - that damn tattoo he was so embarrassed of. None of these were known by the fandom.

Oh god, this woman was the real deal. Even her face, now that he looked at her, was just like Jay’s. The distant look in her eyes as she thought… Jay got that same expression.

“Meredith,” he said, his voice softer, kinder. “Do you know about Marble Hornets?”

“I can’t bring myself to watch them,” she said. Meredith folded her hands together. “But I know what… what was shown on the videos. I know that they are…” She swallowed. “Considered dead by most people. I was one of them.”

His gut twisted. By most people, including her. “But something… changed.”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath, and moved to wipe her eyes. “I got a package in the mail about a week ago. Inside was a flashdrive and a few printed photos. It had been placed in my mailbox - I don’t know who sent it.”

Oh no, Tim thought. Not this again. Please, don’t play this game with people again.

“What were the photos?” He asked, aware of the sound of his own voice more than anything else.

“I’ve included most of them in the document,” Meredith said. “I… I still can’t believe what I’ve seen, but… But they don’t look like they could’ve been faked.”

Dread pressed down on his shoulders. Dread and something else, some kind of energy buzzing through his nerves. Tim looked at the document, scrolled down, and opened the photos.

Some were blurry, taken from a distance and zoomed in before being printed. Some were clear as glass. It took him several seconds to process what he was seeing, what the subjects of the photos were. Tim blinked, looked again, and his pulse quickened.

Alex, standing on a street corner, gray in his hair, exhaustion on his face. Jay in a dark cloth jacket with a hood, looking over his shoulders. Alex, and Jay, Alex, and Jay, in all the photos, in every single one. The clothes were different, the faces aged, but there was no denying what he was seeing, and like Meredith said, no way to fake what he was looking at.

“Oh my god,” Tim mumbled.

Jay and Alex were alive.

[lunarrwolf]

black butterflies [colby brock]

fandom: sam and colby/traphouse

pairing: colby x self

word count: 1,963

part(s): one

summary: after a prank gone wrong, colby and his friends meet another youtuber during her meet and greet in hopes it will cheer her up

A/N: this is a self-insert because it’s a fic that was started for my own personal pleasure. it was supposed to be shared last year on my fan account after a poll was done but never was bc i ended up not feeling ready to do so. i figured since i‘m ready to share it now, it would be best to do it here since it’s pretty detailed

ONE

“What’s up guys?! It’s your girl Kirsy here, and today we’re going to be entering Freetown State Forest. Otherwise known as The Cursed Forest of Massachusetts.” The girl looked into her camera brightly, the excitement of finally being able to explore her home state’s most bizarre places setting in as she recorded.

“Wait - cursed? You didn’t say anything about that.” Her best friend and roommate exclaimed, red locks shaking as quickly as her head was. Casey had been interrupted during a well credited movie of theirs when her friend decided she wanted to go out and take advantage of the fact that neither of them had any plans for the weekend. And as usual in their two bedroom home, no morning schedules meant the freedom to explore the best-worst possible places and capture it all on film for both social network and personal use.

“Didn’t I?” Kirsy chimed, turning the camera toward her roommate who only glanced into the object before shooting her friend the middle finger. She laughed and followed the retreating figure toward the path that would eventually lead them into the actual forest. It was a widened road of dirt and rocks, causing the two of them to nearly trip every so often. The sun was just beginning to set, so the scenery on the other side of the camera was something the green haired girl was glad she was able to capture as she filmed. They continued to walk down the barren path for about forty-five minutes - trees starting to surround them after a half hour - and by then the sun had set quickly without notice and the night began. She could hear Casey muttering about how the place was significantly creepier, and an idea popped into her head. She turned the camera to herself and glanced up to make sure no attention was being brought to her before looking into the lens. “So we’ve been walking for nearly an hour. Casey is already kind of freaked out because of how dark it is, so as her best friend I thought it would be fun to do a little prank on her.”

“What are you doing?” She looked up to meet the narrowed eyes of the redhead that caught her speaking lowly to the camera.

Casey’s eyes didn’t falter from their current state as she continued to glare at the other girl. “Kirsy, I swear if you’re planning something-”

Kirsy scoffed, “What would I be planning out here? Your murder? No thanks - too much work.” She finished off, laughing lightly at the expression she received before the girl with reddish brown locks turned back to survey their surroundings. Kirsy did the same thing for the following ten minutes of their walk. The only sounds they heard so far were forest animals and the wind rustling through the loose leaves of the trees. There was the occasional crunch or branch snapping, which unnerved both of the girls until they would see some small critter scattering to another bush or inside a hole somewhere. She really wanted to pull a practical joke on her friend after not being able to do one on her the whole month she’d been gone on a trip prior to this night. It seemed to be quiet enough to where she wouldn’t really suspect a thing. As long as comments were made from behind her, Casey wouldn’t notice.

She took the opportunity when they were nearing a fork in the pathway and jokingly said something about the atmosphere of the place that would make her friend give her a knowing look. And that was just what happened. However, when Casey turned around, the main star of the channel the video would be posted on was nowhere to be seen. She turned in a full circle slowly, being even more aware and extremely careful where she stepped so she wouldn’t disrupt the sudden silence of the area. “Kirsy.. Kirsy.” She hissed out, moving toward the edge of the path. “I swear to god if this is one of your pranks-” A twig snapped from directly beside her once she got to the natural line that separated a way back to civilization from unpredictable darkness. Her heart was pounding, and tears were springing in her eyes. It had been too long of a time since her last appearance in one of her friend’s scary videos; she forgot how frightening things could get within minutes or hours of arriving somewhere.

There was an obnoxiously loud rustling coming from the same direction, and she approached the bushes to her right cautiously. Reaching a reluctant arm out, she started to move stuff away from her so she could peer behind the plant. As her face got closer, someone jumped out and screamed a scream that was deadly enough to be included in a horror film. “Shit!” Casey jumped back, almost falling to the ground if she hadn’t been able to balance herself.

She glared up at the girl who was trying hard to hold on to the camera as she held her stomach in laughter. “Holy crap, you should’ve seen your face!”

“Dude. What the fuck!” Casey stood back up and snatched the camera away from her friend, marching away as she ignored the calls of the hysterical girl running to catch up.

-

A small group of friends sat on the leather couch in the living room, watching a fellow YouTuber explore a haunted forest with only one other person. It was entertaining to say the least - the amount of times the media influencer messed with her friend was endless, and it only got better when payback would be put into order. One of the darker haired males shook his head, a smile on his face as he shared an amused look with his friends. “I need to marry this girl.”

“Marry who?”

Brennen looked up to see a brunette enter from upstairs, looking at the group of them with curiosity written all over their faces. “Kirsy, dude. Not only is she rocking the new hair, but she obviously knows how to have fun.” Colby didn’t hesitate to join the others on the couch once he heard the name. She was very well known in their industry; a skyrocketing vlogger who stuck to the same several categories of videos and never failed to deliver quality content. She was known to go above and beyond for her fans after having been one herself for years before deciding to dive into the world of explorations. At a recent milestone of 500,000 subscribers, she not only released new merch, she also scheduled a last minute meet and greet that had the sidewalks and almost half of the central park of Boston flooded with local fans of hers. She was someone the members and friends of the trap house admired, as she wasn’t afraid to be herself even when others put her down and criticized the way she behaved on camera.

“Guys, check it out. She added something at the end of this.” Jake brought the guys’ attention back to the computer from their phones. She wasn’t smiling and didn’t hold a bright aura like she usually did when adding bits recorded after her adventures. When she spoke it sounded normal, but after having watched her for the past three years, the boys knew when something was off. They watched the girl give the lens a wry smile before clearing her throat, glancing away as she dove right into the point of the additional bit.

“So this part was recorded a couple of nights after we went into the forest. Casey hasn’t been with me since we got back.” She started off. “I did realize after the fact that she was genuinely mad at me, and I do feel really bad about it. She’d been gone for a month before then. Which meant she didn’t have to deal with abandoned houses, restless spirits, or me and my stupidity - so she wasn’t prepared to be brought back into the swing of things so quickly. I take full responsibility for any actual fear I caused her, and I want to apologize for doing this to her right as she got back from what I know was a good, relaxing trip for her. I did apologize off camera as soon as I caught up with her and she did say she forgave me. However, she uh- she won’t be in videos anymore. And I’m going to be honest with you guys...” She trailed off, and Colby’s heart lurched when he noticed the glossiness in her eyes, “I don’t know where our friendship stands. We know each other’s limits, and while I didn’t go too far, I think she just got tired of me doing all of this. So... yeah.” She gave a dry chuckle, tugging at the end of her sleeves.

“Damn.. she must be crushed right now.” Mike commented, glancing between his friends as they all gave their agreements.

“I can’t even imagine possibly losing you guys.” Sam added.

“And over a prank - Casey’s pretty cold.” Corey brought in, changing his position on the couch and leaning forward when the girl began to speak again.

“Anyway, I’m sure you guys didn’t keep watching just to see me get all emotional. So on to the good news!” The green haired girl continued, clapping her hands together and smiling brightly at the camera as if nothing happened. Still, they could see the look in her eyes, and it was unsettling to see the otherwise outgoing Dominican that way. “I'll be going to Los Angeles in a few days on business, and am happy to announce that I'll also be having a meetup at Santa Monica Pier. I haven't set the exact date in case my schedule goes out of whack, but I will be bringing along someone special. I expect that our family's policy of acceptance will be applied to him.”

“Wait wait wait - my girl's got a man?”

Mike rolled his eyes, smirking at Brennen. “If she was yours, wouldn't she know you exist?”

There was a short amount of silence while the targeted guy looked over with a playfully offended look on his face. “That was cold.” The guys laughed and chuckled, but deep down they still felt bad about what they just heard. The ginger had been by the brunette's side since the start of the channel. Though Casey was mostly the support and a guest in abandoned vlogs and some other types of videos, she would speak out as her friend's defense and help out in any way she could. Some would have figured that a month off would have her ecstatic in going back into working with her best friend. However, it sounded like that time away made her less for the type of content Kirsy had and more against it. The latter of the two must have been devastated at that moment.

“We should go meet her.” Sam announced. “Sounds like it's free - and Brennen could use an ego boost if she does know he exists.”

“You guys gotta give me a little credit here. My channel's pretty big.”

“Yes, but has she acknowledged it?” The dyed brunette questioned, laughing at the glare he received in return. It seemed like it was a unanimous agreement to take a short trip to the pier when she arrived, but everyone was vocal except for Colby. Sam shook his best friend's shoulder, and the young man blinked, switching his gaze over to the former blonde. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, glancing back at the screen. “I agree. We should go meet her.”