#maine is a man of few words and he cannot stand the fact that york is incapable of shutting the fuck up lol

[tvckerwash]

hmmm I'm thinking about wash's stance on the training accident and I think it would be so funny if he gave maine a lecture about it afterwards

[mtab2260]

Okay, I desperately need to rant about Apocalyptic Natasha Romanoff in this episode of What-If and I've decided to do it here over Reddit. Screw me.

First off...

Holy Fucking Shit! That was bloody AMAZING!

Second, I'm basically going to be explaining my excitement and jumping on the ceiling about each scene she was in, but also pointing out a few things as well.

(This feels like a Guardians of the Galaxy reference. No?)

I absolutely love this line because it says so much. In the main timeline, Steve had no clue about her Russian Vodka Family (as I've seen someone call it). In that timeline, I don't think she told anyone, not even Clint. But in Peggy's timeline, that Natasha clearly had to have opened up to Peggy which just shows how close those two had become during the year following the Battle of New York. Natasha Romanoff isn't an open person with anyone, in any timeline— even with Clint, the person she literally sacrificed herself for so he could live.

That says a million words I can't explain.

I also love the fact that the filter on Apocolypse Ultron World is dreary and it dulled out all the colour, and the sun's missing too. But in this shot, you can see hints of the sun shining through. It represents the hope Natasha saw when she saw them. The colour on Peggy's face and hair pop out. It automatically feels less dark and hopeless.

Also, I don't care what anyone might say this line is what sold Natasha that Peggy was an ally and that something was going on that she didn't yet understand. At the mention of Alexei, she just knew.

However... I must point out there are a few inaccuracies with this line. Actually, this entire line doesn't work.

Not really.

As because, up until ghosty Red-Skull said it on Vormir, Natasha had no clue what her birth father's name was and Peggy getting the serum instead of Steve wouldn't change that. So if she didn't know, there's no way she could tell Peggy.

And for the second part of that line... up until the events of Black Widow (the movie), Natasha was still lying to herself that their family in Ohio wasn't real— that it was just a mission and they were all just roles, nothing more.

But, I will say, maybe in that universe she and Peggy had a talk about it and Peggy make it clear she was a bloody numpty for thinking that and it was real regardless of the reason they were brought together. That could've happened in that universe. It's been made clear that those two traded stories with each other as her Nat knew about Steve, yet, main-timeline Nat didn't know about Peggy until she saw him staring at her photo. So who really knows.

But regardless, I still let out a jump of joy at this line because the What If series is letting the Russian Vodka Family be real!

Not that it wasn't real, but you get what I mean— anyways, onward!

This scene... oh my gawd... bloody-hell it's fucking terrific!

I cannot say how fucking overjoyed I am that when it came down to it, fucking Natasha Romanoff and bloody Clint Barton saved the entire bloody-fucking multiverse!

The (and I quote some random asshole) "Useless Avengers", saved everything ever known while also being the only survivors in an entire universe.

Let that sink in.

IT'S FUCKING AWESOME!

Like...

Holy Shit That's Awesome!

(I need more adjectives)

That's Bloody Insane.

I don't care how tacky they may be, I fricken loved these slow-mo arrow shots. And with the mirroring of Clint's (albeit fucking stupid) sacrifice coming full circle and to a close is outstanding.

Which brings me to my next point, that's kinda also this point too.

This point is part II we'll call it.

I

Am

So

Fucking

Happy

They

Didn't

Forget

About

What

Clint

Meant

To

Nat

And

Also

Just

Plainly

Forget

About

Clint

'Cause that would've sucked. I would've sued Marvel if that happened.

This scene. These two shots.

For someone who hides behind fake smiles and witty remarks, these shots show exactly what she's thinking at that moment and it's amazing. You can literally see the absolute peace on Nat's face that they did it, they ended Ultron, she avenged Clint's death, she avenged everyone's death, it was over. And hey look, Yelena, they didn't even need one of the big ones to do it!

But also look, see what I said about the filter— Natasha's hair actually looks fiery red instead of vibrant brown. Also, SUN!

Moving on...

I don't really have much to say about this line, but I fucking loved it, and serves the dude right.

She Has A Very Valid Point.

The pure amazement and life in Natasha's eyes and face is everything.

She saw everything she ever knew nuked and murdered because a robot spent five seconds on the internet and yet here she was now in a clusterfuck war full of life. Life that was at war with each other. But an alive war nonetheless and that's all she cares about at that moment.

Natasha and Clint being best buds part threeeeeeee........

On come on we all know what was going through Natasha's mind at this moment.

PAYBACK BIATCH!

Seriously I just love this short little bit. And the fact that Loki took over the world in a week, yet, this Natasha took him out with a kick and a small poke says things.

It's awesome.

As heartwarming as this scene was, I was hoping for more and truthfully it's a load of bullshit.

I don't care whatever the fuck Nick Fury has seen in his days, he did not know about the multiverse and if he wasn't happy as hell to see her on that Helicarrier then he was suspicious as hell as to who was this Natasha Romanoff imposter was. I'm sorry, I refuse to believe otherwise. No one's first thought after they've seen an alive version of someone they buried in the ground is—

"Oh, you must be Natasha just not my Natasha. Yeah, that makes sense."

Yeah, no.

Also... might I again remind you EVERYONE ON HER PLANET WAS FUCKING NUKED TO DEATH?! Did everyone seem to forget about this?

The first time we've seen Natasha Romanoff cry (almost cry) was Fury's death in The Winter Soldier. That's proof enough for how much Fury meant to her.

So the first person in like over a year (probably) she sees that she recognizes (besides Thor) who she also knew for a fact was dead— her reaction should've been more than a smirk. Especially if it was someone she cried over when they died. The line the two Natasha's share after Peggy's "I've got the shield. You've got the sword." line proves that different universes don't change a person's personality. So her seeing Fury again should've been a helluva lot more emotional for her, hell, for the both of them.

It probably should've gone something more like...

"Natasha...?" A very familiar voice behind her breathed. It wasn't one she's heard for over a year but she recognized it immediately. She froze— which was not a thing she did, ever, but it was only truly hitting her now that not everyone she knew was dead anymore. That the Steve Rogers over there was, in fact, alive. That the Nick Fury behind her was alive. That hundreds, millions, billions of other people were alive.

Natasha turned around slowly like her limbs were stuck in the gallons of maple syrup Cooper put on his pancakes.

"Fury—" She choked, honestly too overwhelmed to say anything else coherent. The tears in her eyes stung as she didn't let them fall.

Nick's one eye narrowed, he was pissed. "Who the hell are you?" He questioned, voice threatening. "I know you ain't Natasha Romanoff 'cause she's dead. So who are you?"

She was sure she just stared at his face probably for a full minute but she didn't really care. It was really nice to see and hear another face and voice.

Nat took a much-needed breath. "I know your Natasha is gone, the giant baby-man cape dude said so. I'm not her. I'm from somewhere else. But I am Natasha Romanoff... and it is really good to see you, Nick..."

Ah, shit the tears fell.

But maybe it was worth it as his eye widened and some form of recognition or some sliver of understanding set in. It was honestly hard to tell through her blurry eyes.

"You're aware none of that makes any sense, right?" He asked, voice much gentler now. Fury looked over her outfit and very dirty/beat-up appearance. "And I take it wherever you're from didn't have showers either? Because I can smell you from here." His nose wrinkled as he smirked.

She knew he was trying not to gag.

Natasha choked out a wet laugh. "Not for like a year, they kinda got all nuked from a psychopathic robot."

She was pretty sure that was the first time she'd ever seen Nick Fury actually shocked.

Okay, yeah so basically something like that.

And the reason I kept saying over a year is because Clint lost an arm and was honestly ready to die. He did die. After a year of being almost the only person on an entire planet and losing Laura and the kids, he hit his breaking point. In the five years of the blip he definitely became close to his breaking point, probably was about to hit it before Nat showed up, and that was with half the universe gone and he was alone without Nat. It could honestly be longer than a year, it probably was much longer, but then I started thinking about food and how much food would actually be safe to eat— or actually there. It was a matter of time really until both starved to death honestly.

And the shower thing, it's honestly impressive anyone could stand near here and not pass out. Like seriously if everyone is dead, I doubt any showers still worked— let alone be standing.

Anyways, I do have a couple problems with this episode despite how much I loved it.

Going back to the "EVERYONE ON HER PLANET WAS FUCKING NUKED TO DEATH?! Did everyone seem to forget about this?" part I mentioned earlier.

It seems no one outside of Nat actually seemed to acknowledge that everyone was dead. That Natasha, previous to their arrival, was the only living thing in that universe and that was it. You would think even Peggy would show some care or sympathy or some consoling words to her so-called BFF. If not that at least recognize the truly apocalyptic scene around her and look at it with disbelieving eyes. For someone who has so much compassion, she seems to have none in this case. Or at least she didn't outwardly show it. Which is completely fine. But it just bothered me no one seemed to really think about it all.

Another thing:

This isn't really towards the episode per-say but I'm just really fucking pissed about it.

It's great— no sorry— it's absolutely amazing that Apocalyptic Natasha is now in a universe that was thriving with life. It's awesome and she deserves it.

HOWEVER....

Are you fucking serious that out of all the universes that Natasha died in, you put her in a one that ALSO has a STILL DEAD Clint Barton???

SERIOUSLY?!??!?

I've said this what, three, four times now— Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton are more cursed than FitzSimmons. Because at least FitzSimmons always find their way back to each other in the end, Nat and Clint always just find the other fucking dead.

I swear, how the other doesn't have PTSD from heights now is a bloody miracle.

Anywho:

That's my entire rant on this week's episode. If you actually read this all, one, I'm so sorry for wasting your time, two, wow— congrats.

Also, I really need to see someone make a fic about Apocalyptic Nat seeing Laura and the kids for the first time again, and also for Coulson too.

[kemetic-dreams]

Step 3: Ikenga

by Omenka Egwuatu Nwa-Ikenga "Ikenga m kwalu otu, njee mge ona mmuo" (As long as my Ikenga is active I can wrestle in the land of the spirits)

Welcome back to the 13 steps. In Step one, you learned how ncheta (remembrance) is the basis for all the other steps. In Step two, you learned on the power of your potential & kinetic energies (Chi na Eke) and how important it is to make sure they are kept in harmony with one another. Now we will again return to a common experience that nearly all humans share. Unlike the first 2 steps, you should have quite a  few memories of this one.

Do you recall the various things you wanted to be as a child? If you were anything like me, that list included alot of things through various ages. And do you remember what you did once you decided to be something? Well, you began in what is now called “make believe.” Without being coached or trained, you and your various playmates could pretend to be whatever you wanted and engage in any activity your minds could muster. You likely pretended to fight battles or engage in space exploration. Maybe you pretended to be a director and used dolls and toys as actors. The key takeaway here my brothers and sisters, is that you used the power of your imagination to create the reality you desired, even if it was a temporary thing

Now today, if you happened to stumble upon the “self help” section in any bookstore, or undergo any form of coaching or training, you will likely be told about something called “creative visualization.” A very simple definition of it would be utilizing the power of your imagination as an aide to getting better results in your life. Countless people have used it to beat addictions, overcome their fears, as well as acquire new skills. Sound familiar? It's once again a reminder of how you need to remember things as an adult that you did naturally as a child, isn't it?

Now remembering the lessons from “Step Two" and Eke have been with you as long as you’ve been on this planet, even if you’re not as in sync with them as you once were. And as I said in that lesson, Igbo culture (along with many others) left a number of reminders for you of the various things you came into the world knowing. The one reminder we will cover today is the one that goes by the name “Ikenga.”

This figure is shared amongst the Urhobo, Edo, and Igala, but the Igbo version is the most well known. Just like Chi na Eke, an entire series of books would be needed to properly expound upon Ikenga. One popular definition of Ikenga is "place of strength." However,  for the purpose of this step, we will say that Ikenga is a symbol of achievement, especially through the use of your right hand. On a sidenote, it goes without saying that for most human beings, their right hand is their dominant one. For the 10% of you for which that’s not the case, just apply this same rationale to the hand that is your dominant one for this step.

The first aspect of Ikenga we will discuss is its appearance. They come in various shapes and sizes, but one key aspect is horns, typically that of a ram, which is prizes for its aggressiveness. Just like the ram, Igbos believe that  one must plunge into a venture in order to succeed. Contrary to misinformation by Igbo Christians, Ikenga, much like other sacred objects, was not an item of worship but a visible representation of things that were invisible. In this case, Ikenga represents your divine self image. In other words, a self image based on your Chi (your unlimited potential), working in unison with your Eke (your limited kinetic energy). Ikenga is thus said to be a gift or symbol of one’s Chi. Anyone who has either achieved consistent success or studied/coached those who have, is aware of how critical having a healthy self image actually is. With an unhealthy self image, your numerous self doubts will usually defeat you before you even get started. Even if you do happen to achieve success despite a negative self image, you will likely be the victim of your own self-sabotage.

"Ebune jị isi éjé ogụ" (The ram goes into a fight head first)

Ikengas were not limited to individuals, but communities could also have them (sometimes called Ikeoha). These communal Ikengas were representations of the achievements and ideals of a community. The Ikenga of the United States of America holds a torch in her right hand, and stands tall in Liberty Island in New York Harbor

The second aspect of Ikenga we will discuss would be its adaptability, meaning its ability to change. Young men would typically get an Ikenga carved when they began their various vocations. In some ways, you could say it would be very similar to receiving a diploma in today’s world. However, an  Ikenga was not permanent, and it could evolve as the owner’s roles changed. A young man whose main task was defending his village would receive a warrior’s Ikenga holding a sword, whereas when that same man became a more accomplished elder, he would now have a title holder’s Ikenga holding a sacred staff. Alternatively, if a man chose a profession that didn't bring him much success, he could throw away the Ikenga (self image) that was not helping him and choose a new Ikenga (and possibly a new profession) that did.

Ikenga adighi ile, azilaa ya nku" (An Ikenga that is ineffective, cut it for firewood)

The third aspect is persistence. Once an Ikenga was established, a routine was established to straighten it. Regular offerings of kolanut, alligator pepper, and libations were made to it, often during the igo ofu ututu (traditional morning prayer). To the uninitiated, it would appear that the Ikenga itself is being worshipped, but I want to reveal a secret to you: If one makes a prayer, whether spoken out loud or silently, your mind cannot help but create a mental picture of whatever choice of words you use. For example, if I mention a pink elephant, you can’t help but imagine one. The same applies to things like positive thinking, affirmations, proverbs, etc. What would happen if you constantly reminded yourself of your goals? Regularly repeated words of encouragement and positivity? And returning back to your childhood, how powerful could your imagination be when if it focused on a long term goal? And even more so when you also dedicate yourself to constant practice and honing of your skills?

"Ikenga chim nyelum, taa oji" (Ikenga, gift of my chi, participate in the offering)

So in summary, an Ikenga is a divinely based self image, that changes as needed, and is fed/reinforced by persistence and dedication. And here’s a final thought my brothers and sisters. One thing about dedication is that you must accept that you’re typically not going to be very good at most things at the beginning. In fact, you’re very likely to be quite bad. However if you stick with it and learn from your mistakes, not only will you improve, you will likely become quite good.

At some point you did not have the ability to read these words at all, but through repetition and practice over time, you gained that ability didn’t you? The same applies to just about everything you now have the ability to do (walk, talk, drive, write, etc). So instead of saying that you cannot do something, you should say you haven’t done it yet.  The former may or may not be true, but the later definitely is. With a harmonized Chi na Eke (as well as working in conjunction with others), the only real limit in this universe you probably have is time. So if that's the case, why are you limiting yourself?

Step 3: I choose a divinely based self image that helps me creates the results I want and can change it when it no longer does so.

Action item: Create an Ikenga. You can draw it, or just write a description of it. Make sure to mention it in your daily prayer from step 2. Include the type of life you want to create as well as some of the goals you want to achieve. And stay tuned for step 4, which is coming out on the next new moon, November 15. Yagazie (It shall be well with you).

[stxrrywildflower]

saudade (1)

pairing - spencer reid x reader

summary - you’re transferred to a unit across the country. later, you and spencer reunite.

warnings - angst, cursing

note - saudade is an emotional state of longing for an absent person that you care about and love while having positive emotions towards the future

series masterlist

it was supposed to be a normal day.

no new cases had come in, meaning the team had one of their rare paperwork days. everyone always complained about paperwork, but deep down, they were all happy to spend the day at their desks, talking to each other as they did their reports.

except the day had quickly turned.

the team was all at their individual desks, except for you. garcia was sitting with derek and even rossi has come out of his office to see what was going on.

you, however, were up in hotch’s office. you had been called in. a few moments later, director strauss entered the office also. the door was closed and the blinds were shut, providing full privacy and confidentiality.

the team had seen this before. the same excact thing had happened when j.j. was asked to transfer. or by asked, she was forced.

spencer drummed his fingers on the desk as the seconds went by. “what are we thinking?” morgan asked the team. “not sure. but last time strauss was with another agent and hotch, it wasn’t good,” emily spoke up, eyes glancing over to hotch. no one seemed to have a good response to that.

meanwhile, you were standing in hotch’s office, leaning against the window. your eyes were focused on strauss who was seated at the couch while hotch was at his desk.

“agent y/n, your performance with this team has been nothing but spectacular. you have exceeded my and my superiors expectations,” strauss first started. a sense of pride washed through you. compliments from strauss and her higher ups were rare. this was like a christmas present.

“which is why we’re transferring you,” strauss added.

your eyes went wide as did hotch’s. “what? you just said i’m good on this team!” you exclaimed. the whole thought of being transferred hadn’t even started to set in. “you can’t take away one of my best agents,” hotch spoke in your defense.

“it’s not my doing aaron. my superiors bought this on me and i now have the liberty of telling you. besides, i haven’t finished yet,” strauss responded, “my higher ups have proposed a new bau team. it will be six younger agents who have all exceeded expectations. any guess who number one on their list is?”

you took in a shaky breath. strauss’ authority terrified you and the fact that even her superiors hand picked you was an immense deal. neither hotch or you said anything, allowing for strauss to give more details. “the team will work on the west coast, solving cases in that region. however, the main station will be in los angeles.”

“los angeles? with all do respect ma’am i cannot move to california,” you spoke.

strauss turned to you, “why not agent y/n? is it because of dr. reid? you’re relationship is only allowed because you both swore to never let it interfere with your work.”

that was true, you and spencer had been together for almost a year. ever since you had informed the team of your relationship, they already knew, you both promised that it wouldn’t effect your field work.

you groaned and threw your head back. “it’s not just that! do you realize how ridiculous it is for me to get up and move cross country. for me to leave this team who’s practically my family?”

“they want you as the unit chief,” strauss responded simply.

“unit chief? i am not qualified to be a unit chief,” you quickly said.

“y/n, you are the number one agent on the list of some of the most important people in the government. you’re more than qualified. besides, an agent from the new york branch will be assisting you,” strauss informed you.

hotch managed to remain silent through this whole ordeal.

“let me guess, he was number two on the list, wasn’t he,” you spoke sarcastically.

“this in non-discussable. you will fly out in four days. until then, you are to pack up your apartment and work place. you are not permitted in work until the day before you leave. then, you can say you’re goodbyes. there is more information in your new files.”

“you know when i joined the fbi and i met you for the first time, i told you i wanted to be on aaron hotchner’s team,” you spoke, voice hoarse. hotch’s eyes widened, obviously not knowing that about you. “you’re really making me leave,” you’re voice had become more shaky as tears welled up in your eyes.

staruss nodded, “i’m afraid so agent y/n, as though it is not my call. i have to go to my office to grab the paperwork you must fill out. i will be back soon.”

just before the director excited the office, you collapsed into a chair in front of hotch’s desk, putting your head in your hands, as the tears started falling.

down in the bullpen, the team could barely focus on anything. however, once the door to hotch’s office opened, all of their heads snapped up. just before staruss had closed the door once again, they caught a glimpse of you. there’s no way the meeting was anything good as they saw you sitting in a chair, head in your hands.

strauss nodded curtly at the agents before exiting through the glass doors. “i’m afraid we may have lost another one,” rossi mumbled. however, all of the team heard it. and they were thinking the exact same thing.

“there’s nothing you can do?” you asked quietly.

“i’m really sorry y/n. this is even more out of my pay grade then when j.j. was transferred,” your boss spoke from across you. you sighed as you ran your hands through your hair.

“and i’ll tell the team when it’s official. most likely this afternoon. unless you want too,” hotch offered. you shook your head, “you can do it. i don’t think i could tell them without breaking down.”

the door to the office opened once again. strauss appeared, holding a large file. she handed it to you with a pen. “you may go fill it out in the conference room. bring it to my office when you are done,” strauss ordered with a surprisingly gently tone.

you nodded, taking the file before exiting the office without another word.

the team was extremely suprised to see you exit the office next. your head was down and a file was held loosely in your hand. you couldn’t have been on the catwalk for more than a few seconds before you went into the conference room, shutting the door and blinds.

strauss was next. this time, she ignored the team in the bullpen and made her way to her own personal office, leaving the door to hotch’s office wide open. the unit chief appeared in the doorway, saving his team the trip of coming up to see him.

“i’m not allowed to say anything yet,” and with that, hotch returned to his desk. the team almost wished they hadn’t heard anything at all.

you sat in your usual seat at the conference table. it took you a few moments to open the file. you did so with shaky hands before begining to read.

fbi behavioral analysis unit - west coast unit

agents recruited:

y/n y/l/n

josh benning

amelia green

abe manning

audrey blair

clay bowen

current station - los angeles, california

admentities provided for agents:

housing

office (interior furniture and products will be purchased by the agents using government funds)

transportation

moving services

you had to admit, it wasn’t bad for what they were offering. however, none of the agents listed were super familiar to you. a few of their names you had heard in background conversations but other than that, nothing.

the rest of the file was standard paperwork. mostly personal records and then your transfer paper. after that, all you had to do was sign your signature at the bottom of the page.

your pen hovered over the line as you pressed your lips together. once you signed, it was official. technically, you were no long apart of the washington d.c. bau team. finally, you moved your pen to sign your name.

standing up, you kept your head high as you walked down the catwalk. before you made your way to staruss’ office to turn in your paperwork, you stopped by hotch’s office.

“it’s official,” you said with the best smile you could muster.

with that, you spun around, looking straight as you exited the bullpen. you ignored your now former team, knowing that if you looked at them you would do nothing but cry.

hotch stood up from his desk, a grim look on his face. “bau team, conference room,” he ordered. the team, in record time, made their way into the conference room after their boss who motioned for them to take a seat.

“i’m just going to get straight into it. please hold your questions,” hotch started, “y/n is being transferred to start her own bau team on the west coast. strauss’ superiors hand picked her as the number one agent. y/n just signed the papers, making it official. i cannot fight this at all. it was hard enough trying to fight for j.j. but this is even further out of my pay grade. those who chose her are some of the most important people in the government. there’s nothing i could have done.”

the team sat silent for a minute, obviously shocked at the news. “a west coast team? what does y/n even have to do with that?” emily spoke up first.

“for whatever reason, they want a team based out of california. the team is all younger agents from washington d.c. and new york and i think one may be out of the acadamy. but, y/n is the acting unit chief.”

“she’s not even 30,” rossi commented.

“from my understanding, staruss’ higher ups or the leaders of the fbi have been tracking her movements since y/n was in the acadamy. she has done nothing but exceed their expectations and they figured, specially since she was number one on their list, that she would be the best agent to lead this team” hotch added.

“damn girl,” emily responded, helping the tension in the room ease.

“when does she leave,” morgan asked, trying to contain his anger that strauss was taking away another part of the team. he wasn’t alone, everyone in the room was feeling the same way. “in four days or saturday morning. y/n is permitted to return to work on friday to pack up her desk but until then, it’s only packing up her apartment,” hotch informed everyone. “then we’ll do a family dinner on friday at my house. make it a goodbye celebration,” rossi suggested.

after the team had all agreed to that, everyone went their separate ways; hotch and rossi back to their office, garcia back to her lair, and emily and j.j. back to their desks. spencer and derek, however, remained.

“come on, talk to me kid,” derek spoke in a soft voice.

“besides the obvious fact that she’s leaving, we barely manage to find enough time outside of work as is. between cases and other work, it’s almost like we’re never truely together. i mean we make it work but now, how are we going to juggle seeing each other when it’s two bau teams? especially with her being unit chief?” spencer rambled.

derek places a hand on the genius’ shoulder. “reid, like you said, you two have made it work. i have no doubt that in the big head of yours there’s some solution to all of this. i’m sure setting up a time to call would work. and besides, i’m sure our paths will cross on a case.”

the two agents stood up. morgan pulled spencer into a tight hug. “it will be fine man, i can promise you,” derek spoke. spencer smiled softly as the two walked out of the conference room.

just as they were back at their desks, you were back in the bullpen, a single file in your hand.

“y/n-” emily started, standing up.

“i need to bring this to hotch real quick. i’ll be back in a minute,” you answered, voice cracking on the last few words.

for what felt like the hundredth time that day, you stepped into your former boss’s office. “strauss wanted me to give this to you. i have twenty minutes before i have to leave,” you told hotch, handing him the file.

“i’m really sorry i couldn’t do anything,” hotch apologized. you pressed your lips together, “it’s fine hotch,” you simply said.

when you stepped onto the catwalk, you noticed garcia had joined the group. her eyes were read from tears. you smiled slightly and joined the group. garcia rushed over and pulle you into a tight hug. “i’m going to miss you so much sweetie,” penelope whispered.

hugs were exchanged between you and each of your team members. emily was first, followed by derek, then j.j., and it was finally spencer’s turn. “hi love,” you greeted before placing your head on his shoulder. once pulling away, you rested both of your hands in the cook of his arm while his held your elbows.

“we’re going to get through this?” spencer asked softly, barely audible to the team.

you nodded, “of course we will,” you reassured your boyfriend. you stepped away from the genius and turned towards the other four. “i have to go now. packing my apartment is going to be a bitch but i mean i have to do it. i’ll see you on friday,” you informed everyone.

“i can come by later if you need some help. you know, me being the muscle and all,” derek offered, holding up his arm slightly. you rolled your eyes playfully but still smiled. both emily and garcia offered to also help. j.j. wanted to go but she had henry and michael to take care of. spencer was already a definite.

“that would be great guys,” you spoke. with that, you grabbed your bags and exited the bau building, no longer an official agent.

on the drive to your apartment, you stopped to pick up boxes and totes to pack your stuff in. as previously stated in the file, all of your stuff would be shipped out via moving truck which was set to leave on friday. you first set out two of your suitcases, one could be a carry-on bag while the other would be just a normal suitcase. all your essentials had to go in there. after deciding to start in your living room, you began to take down all of your wall decor.

you ran your finger along the course wall as you looked at the pictures on the wall. most of them were of the team, both group and individual pictures together. dust piled on the frame, built up from the time they hand hung there. you smiled softly at one picture in particular.

it was taken after one of your longest cases ever. there had been a few scares with the team and garcia even had to fly out. in the end, however, the unsubs had been caught and the remaining victims were saved. it was a huge victory for everyone resulting in smiles being exchanged around the room. one night, the team had all gone to one of the larger hotel rooms which had couches and other seats for drinks and dinner. garcia had claimed that the team had very few photos together and you all needed one together. she set up her phone and everyone piled onto the couch, each smiling brightly at the camera.

tears pricked the corner of your eyes as you wrapped it up and placed it in a box. the rest of the photos, each documenting your time at the bau, were packed away along with the other wall decor.

when penelope, derek, emily, and spencer arrived at your apartment holding take out, you ushered them in with a comforting smile. the two girls moved towards your kitchen which was half packed up and began to unload the food.

“damn y/n, you packed a lot,” derek commented.

you spun around, taking in your apartment. boxes were littered around the floor, each packed to the brim. “i just put some music on and kinda went into autopilot,” you laughed, leaning into spencer.

“what do you have left to do?” spencer asked. you but your lip and thought for a moment, “i need to move the boxes into the empty corner, the kitchen needs to be finished, and i need to do the two bedrooms, but those shouldn’t take long. i can do them tomorrow or something.”

after eating and cleaning up, the five of you got to work. derek and emily took the job of moving the boxes into the corner. the furniture, however, would have to be left or sold as your new place was fully furnished. garcia packed up your guest bedroom, you would do your actual bedroom tomorrow. finally, you and spencer focused on the kitchen.

three hours of nothing but hard-work later, you had thanked everyone before telling them to go home. “you all were such a big help, thank you so much,” you smiled. garcia stepped forward, squeezing your shoulder slightly, “anything for you sweetie.”

with that, the group grabbed their individual bags before making their way to the door. you followed, keys dangling in your hand. “wait where are you going?” emily asked as you stepped into the hallway, your apartment door shutting behind you.

“staying with spencer for the night.”

derek whistled lowley, “well you two kids have fun. but not to much fun, if you know what i’m saying,” he chucked but stopped when garcia flicked the back of his head. you laughed at the two bickering as they walked down the hallway. emily smiled one more time at you two before turning on her heal and following the pair.

“ready?” spencer asked quietly, happy that you two had a true moment alone. you nodded, “let’s go.” you interlocked your hand with his before tugging him slightly, the two of you practically bouncing down the hallway.

____

friday night finally rolled around.

the past few days were filled with packing and receiving instructions from strauss about your new team. you and spencer spent pretty much all of your free time together. mornings before he had to go to work, the two of you would make breakfast before eating together, savoring each and every moment you two had together. at night, spencer would help you pack the final items and then talking, watching a movie, of playing some game.

your new favorite thing was spencer reading. before the two of you went to bed, you would rest your head on spencer’s stomach as he read from some book. the vibrations from his words were incredibly confronting.

an hour before you were expected at rossi’s for dinner and a night with the team, you began getting ready. it was a more casual dress code but you still wanted to look nice. the weather was supposed to be colder and rainy, which you absolutely loved.

from your closet, you picked a shorter black and white polka dot dress with short sleeves and your doc marten boots. already planning ahead, you packed a second, more comfier outfit incase the rain soaked you completely.

you had originally thought you and spencer would arrive together but ultimately, you two decided to drive in separately as he had to go to his apartment straight from work and you needed to get ready.

rossi’s home, practically mansion, was close to twenty five minutes away. you left with time to spare, your hands shaking as your gripped the wheel. it was your last night with the team, your last night in washington d.c., and your last night with spencer.

in twenty-four hours, you would be in a whole new city with a whole new team.

once at a red light, in an effort to calm yourself down, you ran your hand through your hair and took a deep breath. it took you even less time than expected. once pulling into the long driveway, you noticed that the entire team had already arrived.

you knocked on the door before stepping back. a moment later, it swung open to reveal rossi, a towel over his shoulder as he had obviously been cooking.

“fiorellino!” rossi greeted, pulling you into a hug. you rested your head on the man you practically considered to be your uncle’s shoulder. “hi rossi,” you replied, a smile on your face.

the older agent ushered you inside and towards the kitchen. upon entering you were met with loud cheers and shots of your name. you initially flinched slightly but broke out into a wide grin.

you were handed a glass of wine by emily of course before you made your way to lean against the counter. spencer moved next to you, resting his arm loosely around your waist. after noticing a bowl of vegetables on the table, you looked towards the host.

“hey rossi, can we eat these?” you asked, motioning towards the dish.

“ah ah ah, sorry y/n but those are for dinner,” rossi started, “all right everyone! gather around, it is time for the second annual team dinner. this time, however, we are gathered under much different circumstances. while we will do a formal toast later, let us raise our glasses to y/n y/l/n who is leaving us tomorrow and only going onto big and better things.”

the team raised their various drinks towards you making you blush. “thank you all, it really means a lot,” you spoke. spencer leaned down and placed a kiss to your cheek, mumbling a quick, “you deserve it.”

after the toast was done, rossi captured the attention of everyone as he began to go through his very complicated recipe. thirty minutes later, dinner was ready. the group took seats around the dining room table, the meal placed in front of you. small talk was exchanged, thankfully it wasn’t about your transfer. the team had gotten the vibe that, after the toast, you wanted this night to be about family and not about your departure.

when dinner was finished, all eyes were on you once again. “so, what do you want to do kiddo?” rossi asked. it took you a split second to think. “anyway we can do a poker night?” you suggested. that went over incredibly well with everyone.

hotch and rossi, being the dads they are, offered to clean up. j.j., derek, and emily all went into the lounge to relax before the intense poker games later. you, however, walked towards the door.

“where are you going?” spencer asked from behind you.

you slipped your boots on, hoping slightly to face your boyfriend. “outside,” you simply said, a slightly wicked grin on your face. “babe, it’s pouring rain,” spencer responded.

after standing up, you shrugged. “that’s the whole point,” you spoke before swinging open the door and walking out into the driveway. true to spencer’s words, it was pouring rain. puddles were everywhere, pooling in spots around the driveway. the lights from the house illuminated the yard.

the rain seemed to embrace you. sure, you were getting soaked, but it felt really nice. only moments after you had stepped out, spencer was right behind you. he stood at the base of the driveway and looked towards you, hands in his pocket.

you walked over to your car, opening the drivers side and plugging your phone in. it only took you a moment to scroll through your music library and find the song you were looking for.

‘it’s time’ by imagine dragons began blasting out of your speakers.

the song related to your situation. you were begining a new life tomorrow and you wanted to reassure that you wouldn’t ever change, despite starting something new.

a knowing smirk found its way to both of your faces. you twirled around as you made your way over to spencer. you sang the lyrics of the song as your hand moved to spenders cheek. from there, the two of you linked hands and began spinning in a circle, the momentum of your movements driving you around in the circular motion.

you laughed as the rain whipped off of your skin, only for you to be covered in more water. both of you were drenched but at this point, you didn’t care. as the slower part of the song three-fourths in began to play, you moved towards spencer.

“it’s time to begin, isnt it? i get a little bit bigger but then i’ll admit i’m just the same as i was,” you sang softly as you and spencer swayed. his hand on your waist as yours was on his back. your other two hands were out to the side, interlocked.

“now don’t you understand, i’m never changing who i am,” as you were singing these lyrics, you squeezed spencer’s hand slightly as if you were reassuring him about your situation.

when the beat picked up, you took off running into the grass. spencer caught up to you, wrapping his arms around you and picking you up, spinning you around. you laughed as he slung you over his shoulder and brought you back towards the driveway.

as the rain continued to fall from the sky, spencer pulled you close to him, his lips connecting with yours. it was a perfect moment, kissing in the rain with the man you loved.

as hotch and rossi continued to scrub the dishes and clean the tables from cooking, derek had suddenly wondered where you and spencer were. he set his drink on the table before standing up. as derek moved through very large house, he stopped at the window by the front door.

derek then noticed you two spinning around before coming to a halt and moving back and forth. emily, upon noticing her fellow agent leave, followed him. “how are we going to manage without her,” derek spoke once he noticed emily behind him.

the dark-haired woman looked out the window and saw you and spencer, completely captured in the moment. “i don’t know,” she replied.

a few minutes later, you and spencer entered the house, each with bright smiles on your faces. a change of clothes hung loosely in both of your hands. “you kids have fun?” rossi asked as he noticed the two of you soaking wet. you didn’t say anything, your smiles were explanation enough.

“well you two go get changed. i’ll set up poker,” rossi offered.

the two of you made your way to two different bathrooms, changing out of your wet clothes and into dry ones. spencer took your outfit from you and tossed it into the drier while he did the same.

after sitting down at the game table, you were handed your cards and your chips. “ready,” you asked, looking down at your hand.

the rest of the night was filled with laughter and playfully fighting as the poker round winners bounced from team member to team member. towards the end, rossi brought in a bottle of champagne and eight flutes. full glasses were distributed. by the looks of the people around you, you figured it was your turn to speak.

“when i had my first ever meeting with strauss, i was presented with the various teams i could join,” you started, “i had already knew that i wanted to be apart of aaron hotchner’s bau profiling team. that was one of my choices and i chose it in a heartbeat. i just remember being so nervous on my first day but all of you were so welcoming. i especially felt at home when penelope made me a personalized coffee coaster,” the team had all laughed at that.

“from there, i learned so much from every one of you. without all of your teaching and lesons, there’s no way i would be able to lead my own team. while it isn’t ideal, i wanted to thank you for guiding me for all of my years with this team,” as you finished, tears were welling up in your eyes.

no words were exchanged as each member of the team raised their glasses. “to y/n y/l/n,” hotch spoke. “to y/n y/l/n,” the team echoed, glasses clinking together.

at the end of the night, hugs were exchanged between you and everyone else. with each person, you held on tightly, whispering thank you’d to each of them. the only person you didn’t fully hug was spencer. he would be bringing you to the airport tomorrow morning where your personal goodbyes would be said.

by the end, your eyes were red as tears flowed down your cheeks. with one final smile and a goodbye, you and spencer exited the house before going to your desperate cars. the two of you would be driving to spencer’s apartment as yours was already empty and you had no point in going back.

the night ahead was filled with nothing but cuddling and spending your final hours together. sure, tears were exchanged but you two wiped them away and instead talked about anything else.

the following morning, you and spencer got up bright and early. you had gotten dressed in comfy clothes before packing your final few items away. the drive to the airport was mainly silent, your hands, however, remained interlocked and rested on the armrest console.

when spencer pulled into the drop-off area, you both realized that this was it. stepping out of the car, spencer unloaded your suitcases. he rested them against the car before turning to you. you stepped forward, resting your hand on spencer’s cheek.

“i love you,” you spoke.

“i love you too,” spencer replied, a reassuring smile on his face.

you leaned forward and kissed him softly. you two were so caught up in the moment until your watch beeped, giving you an alert that you needed to get inside the airport.

with one final kiss to spencer’s lips, you spun around on your heal with your suitcases in hand. you shot him one final smile with a slight wave before walking into the airport, about to start your new life.

[loveisblindfanfictionbka]

Love Is Blind: Chapter Two

A: You know it really just sounds like your sister really cares about you

C: She does but she’s making this such a bigger deal than it needs to be. I just want to be able to sort my feelings out without feeling like I’m obligated to do something with them immediately

A: I know that feeling so well. My friend asked me if I was still in love with my ex and I don’t know how to answer her

C: I mean your relationship was unfinished so I could understand the possibility. No closure makes it feel like things never ended. They just stopped

A: you put it in much better words than I ever could. 

C: Coming from an emotionally challenged man, sometimes the right thing doesn’t always feel right at the time. It hurts. Caring about anyone comes with that risk but sometimes you have to see it from their side before you can heal. People tend to enter situations expecting others to be like them and we hurt ourselves by doing that. Your ex may have loved you but he didn’t know how to love you anymore and felt it was better to let you go than ruin you. It couldn’t have been easy for you to watch him struggle

A: No but I felt like he never gave me a chance to help

C: People don’t always want to be fixed. Being damaged may have been too comfortable for him

A: I wish I could’ve known if it was. He never really talked to me. I think something happened that he couldn't deal with it and he shut me out because of it

C: thats always possible especially if he wasn’t like that before

A: You ever think about getting into another relationship?

C:Thought about it? Sure but I think I only got enough love in me to take care of my daughter. I haven’t quite rebounded back either.

A: Did you and your ex-wife have the child together?

C: No, I”m in the process of fostering and adopting. I got Anesa when she was one years old

A: That is so cool.

C: You ever consider having a child?

A: It was a part of the plan when I was married but we never quite made it that far

C: Same here but there’s always alternatives

A: I’ll think about it. I am getting up there in age

C: If from any indication of your photo, you’d have no problems. Many women are having babies at your age

A: Why thank you for the ego boost

C: You ever consider dating again?

A: No. I think I am way too damaged to not ruin somebody else

C: Ah, I know the feeling

A: You’re a good listener, Chris

C: Thanks. You too. So what’s your night looking like?

A: A movie and a glass of wine. You?

C: Grading papers

A: for a music class?

C: They still have to do research papers for me. Allows me to gage how they grasp concepts and detect their style

A: Hmm...that’s interesting

C: Part of my class is songwriting and music composition, at least a basic level teaching of both. I have separate sections that go into each more in depth but only a few students are selected to be invited to take those classes. This is my main selection pool outside of those who audition

A: that sounds extensive

C: it can be but I like it

A: Do you only teach major classes or can students take you as an elective?

C: They can take me as an elective but most end up dropping the class by the second week

A: Really? Why?

C: It’s more work than they intended to do in an elective especially if you’re like a business or science major. It’s not exactly contributing to anything but your credit requirement 

A: True. I can understand that

C: Anna?

A: Yes?

C: You ever think about us meeting one day?

A: I’ve considered but I don’t know if I wanna ruin the mystery of you, yet. You?

C: Same lol

A; Well I got some wine and a movie to get to and I’ll leave you to your papers. Have a good night

C: You too

Robyn logged off and pressed her head into her pillow. Was it weird for her to start to like this guy? Honestly, they’ve never met so she wouldn’t know him from a hole in the wall yet she feels close to him like they’ve been friends forever. The fact he didn’t turn away when she started talking about her ex and even tried to help her understand some things was really deep for her. Her friends and family had tried but so much of what they said just seemed so biased and sympathy-ridden for her ex. Like where’s her sympathy? Did nobody care about how he acted affected her? Somehow Chris understood her and it was the craziest thing.

Chris turned to the next paper for one of his students and after a few moments acknowledged his mind was with Anna and not on his work. He could sympathize with her struggle to move on and the fact that she was probably still in love with her ex. He didn’t hate his but he was too damaged to love her like she deserved. A part of him hates that he wasn’t man enough to tell her that when he left. She probably had a hole in her just like Anna or maybe she had moved on just fine. It’s not fair to project his life onto her.

“Daddy, are you going to sleep soon?”

Chris turned to see Anesa standing in the doorway of the kitchen with her teddy bear in her arms. He opened his arms and she climbed into his lap, “Hey Love Bug, what you doing up?”

“It’s raining.”

Chris glanced over at the window and nodded his agreement, “you got scared, huh?”

“Yea.”

“Well there’s nothing to worry about, Daddy’s right here.”

“Daddy, am I ever gonna get a mommy?”

“Well Sweetheart, that’s a very complicated question.”

“Is it?”

“Yea, see I don't’ know if I wanna share you with anybody else.”

Anesa giggled, “well if I can share you, you think you can share me?”

“I’d have to think about it really hard. Is that something you’re nervous about?”

“I just don’t want you to be all alone.”

“I know, Love Bug but I’ll be just fine.”

“Auntie Jessica said you were married before.”

“I was.”

“What happened to her? Did she die?”

“No. Things just didn’t work out. I wasn’t exactly the right guy for her.”

“Oh. So she left?”

“No, I did but I really thought it was the best thing to do at the time.”

“Do you miss her?”

Chris sighed as he leaned his chin on the top of her head, “sometimes I do. Sometimes I do.”

“Does it make you sad?”

“It can but I’ve learned to deal with it.”

“Do you think you’d ever go back to her?”

“I don’t think that would be the right thing to do either.”

“Oh.”

“You sound so sad, Honey.”

“I’m sad for you, Daddy.”

“Why? I’m happy. I’m exactly where I want to be. Here with my Love Bug and my work. Daddy’s just fine.”

Anesa turned and hugged him as Chris blew out a breath over her shoulder.

                                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robyn washed her hands then sat down in her office. She had steady appointments all day, luckily mostly check ups but she was still tired. Being the head vet and the owner and shelter organizer always took a toll on her body. She twisted her neck from side to side to relieve some tension just as her office door opened, “Hi Beverly.”

Beverly, her trusty assistant, was always ready to rain on her parade, “Ms. Fenty, we just received a really huge invitation in the mail.”

“We?”

“Well you but you know what I mean.”

“What is it for?”

“The New York Society Charity Awards Gala. They want to recognize the shelter for its success.”

“That’s nice. Tell Ashley to go in my place.”

“Wait. What?”

“I don’t feel like rubbing elbows with the rich, that’s Ashley’s forte, let her do it.”

“Fenty, this is a huge opportunity for donations and connections. You cannot send your shelter manager in your place.”

“Why can’t I? She’s dealt with these people before. She even knows most of them. She has an Ivy League Degree, why can’t she go in my place?”

“The award is for you.”

“So?”

“Robyn, you can’t be serious.”

“I am in no condition to be bothered with anyone.”

“The gala isn’t for another month, you can’t muster up some give a fuck in a month.”

Robyn glared at Beverly, who simply folded her arms across her chest in response, “I’m not doing this.”

“You are doing this. I will schedule your appointment with your stylists for fittings and hair tryouts. We’ll see about getting you an escort and get a speech written for you.”

“I’m not going, Beverly.”

“You will go even if I have to get your entire family from Barbados to make you. This is a perfect opportunity and you will not squander it being anti-social.”

“Get out of my office, Beverly.”

“I will add the appropriate appointments to your calendar. Your 2:30 appointment canceled so you’re free until 4.”

Beverly promptly walked out of her office and Robyn tossed her head down on her desk. She couldn’t do this. She hadn’t been to an event like this since she was married to Chris. He’s a well-known architect and had a hand in a lot of buildings in the city. The circles aren’t that large in this tax bracket so she’s sure to run into people she knew back in California. She wasn’t ready for the questions and the stares if she showed up and especially if she showed up with someone else. They had kept their divorce quiet for several reasons mainly because she didn’t want to be embarrassed. Robyn Fenty, veterinarian extraordinaire, can’t even keep her marriage together. Some of those people would be colleagues, alumnus of her alma mater, people who whispered that once Chris got a taste of the good life, he wouldn’t stay with his middle school girlfriend long. Sadly, they were right. They barely made it three years before he walked out. She wasn’t going to this gala.

C: I really think you should attend. It’s for business.

A: It’s business that I don’t want anything to do with. I have associates specifically for things like this

C: Why is it so bad for you to go?

A: These parties always have people I knew back when I was married. Many of them don't know I’m divorced

C: Well people get divorced all the time

A: Yea but they normally don't have to be around the same people who said it wouldn’t last

C: Anna, you can’t be embarrassed about something so common.Things happens

A: That’s easy to say

C: Besides I would love to see a photo of you in your gown

A: Lol, is that the real reason you want me to go?

C: Well considering we aren’t meeting anytime soon, it’d be nice to see

A: it wouldn’t be a face shot.

C: Not changing anything for me

A: I mean I could just get dressed, post the picture and you’d be none the wiser

C: You could but I sense you’re a little too honest for that

A: Lol, I’ll take that as a compliment

C: Good, because I meant it as one

A: lol

C: are you writing lol because you’re actually laughing or because you’re smiling?

A: both

C: they do make emojis

A: Yea but I feel silly using them

C: Ah, I guess

A:You know what, I will go to the gala if you agree to go on a virtual outing with me

C: Like VR

A: More like a video meet up but no cameras

C: Just voices?

A: automated voices

C: you really wanna hold onto this mystery thing, huh?

A: I feel so comfortable with you, probably because I don’t know you but I feel like once you remove the mystery, shit gets too real

C: That’s a good rationale. How about this, my job has some assistance programs that can do text to speech. I can send you a few options, you choose one, we pick a date and we have our little blind date so to speak

A: you would do that for me?

C: Absolutely. I really like you, Anna

A: I like you too, Chris

“So you really like him but you won’t go on a real date with him?” Melissa asked.

“Mel, if I do that then this becomes way more than what it is.”

“Which is?”

“Two people just getting to know each other.”

“Without having to really know each other. You haven’t told this man your real name.”

“Because it doesn’t matter. That’s what I like most. The little things don’t matter.”

“So if he was using a fake name too, it wouldn’t bother you.”

“No. He’s not obligated to give me anything he doesn’t want to.”

“You are petrified of commitment.”

“I’ve been hurt enough, I don’t want to go through that again.”

“And you think by withholding basic information yet spending time with this man will prevent that.”

“The longer he remains a stranger, the easier it will be to walk away. I’m not looking for love or to move on. Just a new friend,” Robyn replied as she held a dress up to her body, “what do you think?”

“It’s nice. You really want to go long sleeves for this?”

“Either that or get a nice jacket. It gets cold at these things.”

“That’s true. So who’s your escort?”

“Nobody. I told Beverly that I’d go but I am not taking anybody with me.”

“Not even me?”

“Do you want to go? I can send in for a plus one.”

“Not really but it was nice you offered.”

“You sure Sis?”

“Very sure. I got a boyfriend to do things with on the weekends so I’ll be busy.”

“Oh rub it in. How is Juan anyway?”

“He is good. We were thinking about doing a friendcation next month. Go back to PR to see his family.”

“Oh that’s nice. I’m sure Lele and you will have a great time.”

“You wouldn’t come?”

“No. Hard pass.”

“I’m really tired of you ducking us, it’s not like we’re gonna fix you up on a blind date or something.”

“I know but I also don’t want to be the fifth wheel. No thank you.”

Melissa sighed, “I guess. Maybe if you’d get your life right with this new Chris, you could bring him.”

“I don’t want to meet him, Mel”

“I really don’t understand why not, y’all seem to have great chemistry.”

“Yea but I really just wanna leave it at that. I’m too fragile for anything more.”

“Have you ever thought to talk to your ex-husband?”

“Why? So he can make me feel even worse?”

“Or maybe so you can heal. Robyn, y’all had a really abrupt situation. You both were in a bad space. Maybe you just need to talk things out so you can move on.”

“Why do y’all coddle him so much? Why is it nobody’s mad at him but me?”

“Because we love both of you. Clearly, neither of you were in your right minds. Nobody thought you should've gotten divorced but neither of you were happy.”

“I did not want one. He wanted out and nobody seems to be lying that at his doorstep. It’s almost like you know something that I don’t.”

“Robs, that is most definitely not the case. We just don’t think being mad at anyone is gonna solve anything. Chris was hurting, from what we don’t know, but we all knew something wasn’t right with him. You were hurting, we all knew that too. Neither of you needed the extra weight of anyone else’s judgment.”

“It doesn’t feel very neutral.”

“Because you don’t want neutral, you want us to pick sides and that’s not gonna get any of us anywhere.”

“Well have you spoken to him?”

“We texted a few months ago but that was it.”

“Oh.”

“Do you wanna see him?”

“No because I’m still angry. Seven years later and I’m still fucking pissed. Seeing him would do me no good.”

“Robs, I think it might.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m thinking the navy blue, what about you?’

Melissa sighed, “I love it.”

“Great.”

Robyn grabbed the dress and headed to the cash register.

[clan-sayeed-fic]

Let me earn your trust (Kamilah Sayeed & MC)

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Book: Bloodbound (property of Pixelberry Studios) Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed & MC: Amy (I do not own those characters, they're the property of Pixelberry Studios as well) Warnings: angst Rating: Mature Author's note:  I'm not a native English speaker, I'm sorry for any mistakes (feel free to correct me).

This chapter is shorter than last ones, don't hate me haha

I was thinking that I'll be able to upload the 15th chapter today too. But since I was at work yesterday and I'm going there today too, right after posting this, I know for sure that it won't happen.

When I came back home yesterday, I was so exhausted like whoa... I love this job, but when I'm not working day after day in it, it takes a lot of my energy to adjust. And what amazes me the most is that even if I can barely stand on my feet from exhaustion, I cannot fall asleep like wth... and the fun fact is that around 1:30 a.m. I came up with the last line of this fic hahaha

Idk if anyone even reads those notes haha maybe, it's better if you don't. I'm going to answer your comments, if you leave some, in the evening😄 (12 noon here)

~ 1400 words

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Chapter 14

"I wouldn't worry about what happened this much, little girl," Adam's voice got Amy's mind out of her thoughts.

Without thinking, she took a glass of water that he held for her.

Amy retained only a few flashbacks from their ride to this place. The moment when she got into a limousine. A short talk with Adam, who tried his best to make her feel better. After that, she remembered getting out of the car and how she found herself in the town suburbs. In front of the impressive mansion.

The last thing she knew was the sound of her own voice refusing the offer of wine since she still felt the end of the hangover.

And now, there she was. Sitting on this enormous, white couch. Surrounded by ornaments worth millions.

Amy took a sip of water, letting the cold liquid flow down her throat.

Another single tear escaped her eye, traveling down her cheek before she wiped it away. She hadn't felt this alone and broken during those long four years. Amy made promises in her life that she would be tough, never cry, and move on. For them.

"I know what'll make you feel better," Adam's words drew her attention. "Come with me, I can show you something wonderful."

Amy forced a weak smile and stood up, following his steps.

They walked through the living room, in the opposite direction than the main entrance. Adam guided her to other doors, which were leading to the back yard of the mansion. The man opened the doors and gestured Amy to go outside. It was still daylight, so he had to stay in the shadows.

Amy walked through the doors, being blinded by the artificial light. Her eyes needed a few moments to adjust to this source of light before she could take the surroundings in. And the view she saw was truly breathtaking.

Amy didn't know how it was possible that, despite bad weather outside, the flora here was growing such beautifully. She couldn't decide if it was thanks to the heat lamp and equally heated ground or some talented and devoted gardeners.

Either way, the creation was a true masterpiece.

The grass was mown equally, surrounding the flowers. The flora was varied in so many ways. Starting from colors, kind, to height. There were plants that she saw many times in different gardens in New York so far. But also some of them were exotic, unknown for Amy.

In the center of the garden was growing an impressive, old weeping willow. Its stems were dancing slowly in the weak wind. Some of the leaves reaching the ground, some using the wind to fly as high as it was possible.

And that was the plant that especially got Amy's attention.

She stood speechless, looking at the tree, feeling warmth spreading in her chest. Feeling of safeness.

"I can see you're mesmerized by that Salix babylonica," Adam grinned behind her.

Amy snapped out of her thoughts and smiled, feeling better.

"I reminded myself that I have seen this kind of tree somewhere else before," she said mostly to herself.

"Ah, memories..." Adam spoke with his charismatic tone. "They are a fascinating thing, aren't they? I always say... if you desire to understand someone properly, you need to face his recollections at first."

Those were powerful words that hit straight to Amy's heart.

"There is some truth in that," Amy said, her mind uncontrollably traveling to Kamilah.

They turned around and walked inside the building.

Adam stopped near the bar, filling his glass with white wine. Once again, he looked at Amy with an unspoken offer.

"Oh, thank you, I'm good," her answer was still the same, but he didn't push her.

He walked Amy to the living room, and they both sat down on the couch at an appropriate distance from each other. For a moment, no one was stopping the silence that fell between them.

Adam was gathering his thoughts and pieces of information that he had learned about this human so far. He always needed to be prepared for how the conversation would go. The coincidence in his speech wasn't an option.

"Priya told me about the night when you were working as her waitress," Adam started, taking a little sip of his drink. "I feel utterly sorry for you getting to know all of this under such terrible circumstances."

Amy looked into his eyes, and she couldn't find a lie in them. Either he was telling the truth, or she was too blind at that moment to see his manipulative side.

"It happened," Amy swallowed, rethinking what she can do and tell around this man. "And I don't regret this."

"Even turning your best friend into the vampire?" Adam asked, without judgment in his voice.

Amy moved nervously on the couch, trying to hold back her emotions.

"If you're asking me what would I rather do: undo Lily's death or getting to know all of this. The answer is obvious," Amy's expression serious. "I would never sacrifice my friend for getting us into this."

"Loyalty, I respect that," Adam clasped in his hands, putting the glass aside. "I bet you have something that most humans are searching for in a friend."

Amy felt touched by those words.

"Why are you distinguishing humans and vampires so much?" Amy asked with curiosity, trying to not sound too brazenly.

Adam stopped smiling for a moment. She took him off gourd, and that was not an easy thing to accomplish. He quickly composed himself and spoke with his usual, confident, and eloquent manner.

"Because the human part is long gone as soon as you become the vampire, my friend," Adam was waiting for Amy's agreement. He was used to people agreeing with him, but it didn't happen this time. "But, from what I can notice, you're seeing things differently?"

Amy looked at her hands while thinking about her opinion on this subject. She wasn't such naive, even if she was feeling hurt about what happened between her and Kamilah. She still knew that she had to choose words carefully when it went to this man.

"I believe that everyone is worth redemption," she said, keeping gaze of his brown eyes.

Adam smiled, being sure that Amy had nothing else to say. And when he wanted to add his few words, she spoke again.

"And..." Amy's voice was full of hope. "I believe that if you once were a human... then losing humanity after turning depends on you."

Amy choose her words on purpose. Especially those which referred to being a human before turning. She knew that even people could behave without humanity or mercy. There's no need to be a vampire to act like a bloodlust creature. And she knew that those people freaked her out even more than this new world that she was still adjusting to living in.

"I can see now what Adrian and Kamilah saw in you," Adam's voice sounded absent.

At that moment, a chauffeur walked into the living room, clearing his throat.

"You called me, sir," he bowed before them.

"Indeed," Adam cheered up, shifting back to his usual behavior. "I want you to drive Ms. Campbell to her apartment."

The chauffeur smiled at Amy, so she returned the gesture feeling more relaxed when another person appeared in the room. She stood up and followed the young man to the doors after saying goodbye to Adam.

When she was near the entrance, Adam's voice stopped her.

"And, Amelia...." he said with a neutral tone. "I'm still thinking about our deal."

Amy froze for a moment. Her muscles tensed due to the sound of the name that she hadn't heard in years. Quickly, she regained control over her body and voice, thinking that it was a common mistake to consider her name as a shortcut from Amelia.

Keeping her eyes and facial expression under control, she turned around, smiling naturally.

"You know where to find me," she said with fake confidence in her voice.

After those words, Amy turned around and walked out of the house, heading to the limo.

A bad feeling curled under her skin, but sanity made her think that it was just a coincidence.

And, as Adam said, their deal was still on.

The only thing that Amy was not aware of was how valuable information Adam learned this day.

And how it would affect his next move.

Next chapter: 15

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tag list: @onyxgaytrash, @scarlet-letter-a0114, @caliseds, 

@lightning-fury I know this chapter is more like a tease, but it���s the beginning of my big plan haha 

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 177

July of 2015 started off with a bang. Several, actually. Huge ones. The fourth of July celebration at the Tower went off without a hitch, even considering you’d asked really late in the game for it to be put together. But anything that helped the general public with their consensus that not only superheroes were a good thing but that Stark Industries was a good thing- that you were a good thing… greasing the wheels didn’t really hurt. You also established a block party zone for restaurants to give out free tastings and booze (all paid for by Stark Industries, of course), and blocked off watching spaces far enough away. 

It was wonderful, really. Everyone had a good time. The papers the next morning were mostly all going on about the spectacular displays (some of which were Avengers themed, of course) and the happy faces. Mostly though, this was tempting fate. Something you and Tony found out the very next night. A Sunday. You’d just left a restaurant in Poughkeepsie after a small business meeting. It was hot. You were a little tipsy. And a woman was waiting right next to your car in an otherwise very empty parking lot. 

She uncrossed her arms and gave Tony a wide smile. Alarm bells were ringing in the back of your mind. Tony’s, too, as he put an arm around your waist and halted a few feet away. “Can we help you?” 

“I imagine you can.” Her tone was polite but coy. Not something that soothed your nerves. Especially not when she reached into her jacket. Quickly you put a hand up, not that it would have prevented something terrible from happening. Not as immediate as a repulsor blast, anyway. “Let’s not do something stupid.” You didn’t sense something that off about her. 

But she hesitated, nervous suddenly. ...perhaps it wasn’t wise, after all, to startle Team Iron in a parking lot after dark. She stopped moving, considering her options. The both of you were on edge. If she had a weapon, she was rethinking pulling it. But she edged the top of her jacket back just a bit to reveal papers. 

That was when your hand dropped. And she pulled them out all the way. “You are hereby ordered to appear before the United States Senate.” 

Even though you weren’t looking at him, you felt the roll of Tony’s eyes. “Gee, this seems awfully familiar.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.” You put a hand on your hip- the hand that had been semi-threatening her (whether she truly understood or not), because you were not keen on taking hold of what she was offering. “They gonna tell him to give up the suits again? We’ve done this already. We have a military-liaison now. So whatever scheme they’re cooking up, he’s not going-”

She stuck her arm out hard, flourishing them. In your direction. “Actually, these are for you.” 

“Me?” “Her?” 

No surprise that both you and Tony took some offense to that. Probably for very different reasons. “July 13th.” She flapped the papers again and you finally took hold of them. No reason not to. This was happening whether you liked it or not. 

That was a Monday. Your brain was already churning. Once she’d done her duty she walked away, and you opened the packet, reading the highlights allowed. “-regarding the damage reports necessary to make prudent decisions and swift actions after the devastation in Sokovia.” Your stomach did a little flip. This was not good. 

Tony’s hand raised up, rubbing absently at your shoulder. “They’re just putting on a show.” 

“Yeah. Well.” Your gaze was not as steady as you would have liked as you glanced up at him. “We’re the main attraction.” 

                                                                    --- 

Press was absolutely everywhere that day. Crawling out of every hole. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, being back on Capitol Hill. Although at the very least, you knew you would not be facing down the rat known as Senator Stern. That wasn’t cause for complacency, though. If not him, it would be a different rat. All with the same motive. They wanted a spectacle. And they wanted someone to blame. 

It was actually a bit of a shock- that they wouldn’t call Tony, but instead you, as if you had any more pertinent information. But maybe they knew they wouldn’t get anything out of Tony, if his first and last senate appearance had been anything to go by. What they were hoping to get out of you… you didn’t know. As much as you could guess the motive for this, it was to pin blame on the Avengers. And for them to start doing that- that led down a very long and terrible road. 

One you’d warned not only Tony about, but the team. This was not what you wanted. This wasn’t even remotely what you wanted to be doing. But you didn’t have a choice. 

So you sat down at the table, in front of cameras going off, in front of microphones hot to pick up every word, and in front of senate members, all looking down on you. They’d immediately disallowed Tony from sitting at the table and instead remanded him to the seats behind. Taking away what little comfort you might find. The lights were getting a little blinding, but you made every effort to not show your nerves. Or your anger over the continued need to play this little blame game. 

...much as you may have been starting to understand it. 

The last time you’d been in this room was not with Tony, it had been with Natasha and Maria. Now it was just you. Alone. Isolated. If you said one wrong thing, if you made the exact wrong move… 

Everyone paid the price. 

Senator Wenham was taking charge. Not a man you admired. He’d been one of the harshest critics during the hearings about the fall of SHIELD. It was no surprise to see him bearing down. He opened with lengthy remarks about how terrible he felt about the people of Sokovia. But eventually that empathy ran out, and he made his position perfectly clear. That Americans- the United States Government- should not be penalized for the failure of rogue superheroes. That they should not be asked to bleed red, white, and blue for a nation that had never done anything for them. 

America first. The cry of god-fearing nationalists. And what a perfect time to get those so-called Americans onboard with such a terrible notion. Ellis was up for reelection next year. You had a very big idea of who was filling his pockets. You took dry questions that were just meant as set up. 

What was the death toll in Sokovia? What’s the estimated damage? What do you think recovery is going to look like? How long?

It took hours to get through. Hours to finally make it to the point of all this. 

“What do you have to say for yourself?” 

Hours to get to the point where you and your team got accused of everything. You settled your hands together atop the table. Ever the picture of poise. “Can you elaborate, Senator?” 

“Your people defected. Went rogue. Crossed sovereign borders with no orders to do so. The results of which are some of the biggest devastation this world has ever seen. Why are we being asked to pick up the tab for idealized justice? Why are we being asked to grant refuge to the people a small group are responsible for?” 

You kept very still. “I take great exception to this idea that the Avengers were not acting in the United States’ best interest, Senator Wenham. President Ellis was well aware of our operation.” A shock ran through the room, and murmurs began. “Maybe not as aware as you, but I’ll take an apology whenever you’re ready to give it.” 

This was a very dangerous game you were being forced to play. It was no surprise that the senate had told Ellis, maybe even gotten his permission, that they were going to subpoena you on behalf of the Avengers. It was also no surprise to you that Ellis had forgotten to mention that he in fact did know what the Avengers had been up to. You’d forced his hand on that one. And were forcing it again now. He had told you in no uncertain terms that he had wanted nothing to do with the Sokovians. And you’d basically had to blackmail him to do the right thing. 

They were going to look into this. Wenham especially, turning red up there behind his mic. 

You were making a fool of him. And Ellis. At the same time. 

“Order!” The moderator called the room to silence once again. Wenham sat up straighter. “Be that as it may- I ask you- why with a financier as grand as Stark Industries pooling money for the Avengers should the United States government have to clean up after their mistakes?” 

“Saving Sokovia was not a mistake, Senator. And were it not for the Avengers, we wouldn’t even have a world in which you’d be here questioning me about the merits of right and wrong.” People were talking all around you again. You tuned them out. “Which, by the way, if you need some tips- saving lives is always right. We can agree to disagree on the definition of justice, but by no means does it have any room for interpretation in the way of saving people or letting them die.” 

He put a hand down hard on his table. “The Avengers are responsible for Ultron! For the very thing that caused this massacre!” 

“And this government has paid its fair dues I’m sure for all the atrocities it has caused throughout history, usually with very real intent of harm.” 

“We’re not questioning intent, ma’am, we’re questioning responsibility!” 

“ORDER!” 

The room was breaking out in an uncharacteristic fever pitch. These hearings were usually so droll. But not with the state of democracy on the line. Not with the zoo in tow. Not with an Avenger on the stand. Not one so combative, at that. “The Avengers took responsibility. By stopping Ultron. Just like how Tony Stark stopped a nuke a security council tried to drop on New York City- because they had no way of stopping an alien invasion. You want to talk about responsibility, let’s start talking about how this government handles crisis management. How the world handles crisis management.

Ultron was a mistake. We don’t deny that. But the Avengers did what they had to do to save lives. This world cannot exist in its current form without a team looking out for its best interests. Looking out for people that their governments care very little about. What was this government going to do about Ultron? Or the aliens in New York? You’d have sooner abandoned your own city- so I hold out no hope whatsoever that you or any of those people up there judging us would act in the name of justice to save anyone.

The Sokovians deserved better than what happened to them. And they deserve better than waiting for the world to get its shit together so that they can get help. Do the right thing. That’s all we’re asking. That’s all they’re asking. Because next time it could be us. Next time it could be anyone. We have to pull together. I don’t know how that didn’t become apparent when aliens came to this planet- forget New York City- this planet. We need each other. We need the Avengers. We don’t have time any longer to squabble.” 

Senators were talking amongst themselves. People in the back of the room were speaking over each other. Cameras were going off. You stood. Wenham put his hand down hard on the table a second time. “We are not finished here! You do not leave that bench until you are excused! If you leave you will be held in contempt of congress!” 

“You’re going to put me in jail for the night as proof that you’re on the right side of this debate? Really think about that for a second.” You’d make bail the second you stepped foot inside a jailhouse. It didn’t scare you to be threatened that way. It wasn’t even really much of a threat. 

He pointed his finger at you. “This is not over.” 

“No. It isn’t.” 

This was a mess. And it was only just beginning. 

                                                                   ---

Tony had his arm around your waist as the two of you walked down from the courthouse steps. You put your hand up to stem the flow of incessant questions. You had nothing to say after that. Not to reporters. Happy was doing his best to mitigate the crowd. You weren’t expecting to see Steve and Nat waiting in front of the car. 

Steve put his hands on his hips. “Well. That was a mess.” 

A little incensed that you’d been forced into that and yelled at, alone, for the better part of four hours, Tony predictably snapped at the insinuation that you’d blown that in any way. Just a little. “We’re just lucky they didn’t call you. Can’t imagine the soundbites you’d have given them.” 

“And why didn’t they?” Steve seemed to take a little offense to this. “Why was she up there all alone? We might not have known but you were here.”

 “Subpoena only had one name on it. Maybe you’re not really that familiar with government circuses, but I wasn’t called. And neither were you. Nothing to be done about it. Simple as that.”

You and Nat were both stuck doing clean-up, and you got there first. “Let’s not do this right here.” 

Nat waved her arm around. “You know. In front of all the cameras?” 

So you didn’t. Corralling them into the car wasn’t hard. Finding a restaurant far enough out that the media wasn’t lurking around for more opportunity was just a touch trickier. But not impossible. And eventually you got a secluded back table at a restaurant. 

Natasha was the first one to try and break the ice. “So. I thought last we spoke you wanted out?” 

You just shook your head. “Like I wanna be testifying in front of congress. Like it’s my dream.” Your nerves were a little frayed. She didn’t deserve that. So, quickly, “I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m tired.” 

“No apology necessary.” Her smile was easy, and you knew she understood. Thank god for small miracles. 

Steve crossed his arms. “Why not call all of us? We were all there.” 

“Because it’s not about who was there.” Tony let out a bitter sigh. He was just as tired it seemed. “It’s about bullying one person on the team in front of cameras. It’s about demanding accountability and hoping they get pushback. This wasn’t about Sokovia.” 

Tilting his head, Steve seemed a little confused. But his tone was still brisk while he was addressing Tony. It was pinging some serious red flags in your gut. “Then what was it about?” 

You felt a chill creep up your spine at almost the exact time a little life left you. “Superheroes. And the mess they leave behind.” 

Steve seemed itching for a fight. It was strange. “There’d be an even bigger mess without us.” You wondered for a moment if something bad was going on at the Facility. 

Nat shook her head. “They don’t really care about that. This isn’t so much bigger picture as it is what’s right in front of them. Sokovia disappeared in seconds. Doesn’t matter that the other flip of that coin was world destruction. You always need someone to blame.” 

“Property damage. Lives lost. It falls on someone. That someone is us.” You felt entirely dejected. But it was the truth. ...and also the exact thing you’d warned Tony about a long time ago. 

Tony didn’t want to fall back in, though. “Well. Not us. We’re out. Still out. This was a momentary setback.” 

Words started falling out of you. “Damage Control… the Stark Relief Fund… they can only do so much. People are getting tired of it. Of wondering when the next big thing is gonna hit. All that fear is gonna fall on us-”

“The team.” Tony was very quick with his correction. The two of you had just left. How was it that not even two months later you were back in? “We handled this one because we didn’t have a choice. But we trust you guys to keep fighting the good fight. Just. Make sure it’s a clean fight. That’s all we’re saying.” 

Nat flexed an ok symbol with her fingers. “Got it, boss.” 

“I’m not your boss.” 

“You’re lecturing like one.” 

They were smiling at each other. That was nice. But you were suddenly very empty on niceness. Steve was staring at you. In fact… he’d been staring at you the entire time. Frown heavy-set. He didn’t like any of this, that was obvious. But who did, really? He was upset. And as soon as he got caught looking at you like that, he voiced some of it. “Where’s this road end? Just waitin’ for the other shoe to drop, here.” 

You shook your head. “Let’s not find out, shall we?” 

                                                                   ---

“They had a lot of nerve, showing up like that.” Despite the amicable ending to the meeting, on the short jet ride home, Tony was still a little ruffled. 

“We didn’t call them. Maybe we should have.” You sat on the couch, easing forward, hand to your forehead. “It was probably a shock, finding out I was testifying on their behalf. They had every right to go there.” You took no issue with them being a little miffed. ...Steve more than anyone. In fact… “Did Steve seem weird to you?” Looking over at him as you asked. 

“Who knows what goes on in the mind of Steve Rogers. He’s all over the map. Weren’t you just taking his side, anyway?” Tony sat down after fixing himself a drink, putting one leg up over the other. 

“His temper has been out of control.” Was that it? Apparently that’s the judgment call you were making. 

“Just realizing that now? He’s always been like that. If he doesn’t get his way, suddenly everyone is against him.” 

“He hasn’t always been like that.” Shaking your head now, sitting back. Your thoughts were murky. “Sure- he’s set in his ways- but so are you. And you’re pretty consistent about it. Something’s changed.” 

Tony’s lips pursed to the side, arching a brow. “Well. There’s a therapist in the Facility. Sounds like a job for them. And not so much for the opinions of others.” He took a long sip, attitude fading as he looked over at you. “...why are you so worried about it now?” 

What a great question. 

One that had you thinking. Why now indeed? You took a deep breath in and then let it go as a sigh. Your thoughts weren’t collecting nearly as well as you wanted them to. So, safe with Tony as always, you just started talking. “He’s in charge of that team. Before it was kind of a group effort, but he’s a dominating personality. He’s in charge. We’re out. Right? What if they get into a mess and everyone starts arguing with him? I don’t think he’s gonna blow everyone up, but that’s a mess we can’t afford right now. I mean- he attacked you at the Facility, over JARVIS. What if I hadn’t been standing there?” 

“Honey- he was making a point-” 

“That’s not-” You found yourself bugging out just a little, brows squinching as your head reeled back. “Are you defending him?” 

“Not remotely. But I think you’re going down a strange path here.” 

“He threw his shield at you. At you.” 

“And you fired a shot off at him. What’s the difference? Everyone was having a tough day.” 

This was a difficult discussion to have. You realized Tony wasn’t defending Steve so much as he wasn’t defending himself. “What if he’d thrown his shield at me? To get me to stop?” 

Realization caught in Tony’s gaze. But he still wouldn’t budge. “He wouldn’t do that.” 

This was going nowhere. “I’m just… something happened. Something between New York and Sokovia.” Why were you just realizing it now? You wanted to excuse yourself. So much going on, but… “And he needs to be neat and clean right now. We can’t afford something terrible. A mission going awry or- god forbid a team discussion out in the middle of heavy fire.” 

Reaching over, Tony laid his hand on your shoulder, massaging there in a light squeeze. “They’ll be alright. We promised ourselves they could handle this. Isn’t that why they’re there, and we’re here?” 

“Something happened.” You found yourself saying this again, softer. Thinking. Really thinking now. Three of you had been responsible for Ultron. You. Tony. Bruce. But Steve’s aggression had been centered on you and Tony- ...maybe mostly on Tony. Hadn’t they argued in Clint’s yard, too? Something so terrible it had really upset Tony that day. It had been easy to forget in the face of alien shapeshifters, but now… “You and Steve have always had modest respect but… I don’t know- we were fine and then suddenly he painted a target on you.” 

“I think you’re overthinking things. And. Not that I don’t enjoy it- but being a little overprotective of me.” 

Was that it? Was that really it? 

You just weren’t sure anymore. Maybe you should have had a bigger discussion with him, before you’d left. Maybe. You were always living in the mire of maybes. “His new World War Two exhibit is opening next week- at the Met. I’m sure he’ll go. I think I need to talk to him.” 

Tony saddened very suddenly. “Are you sure about this? Look- maybe you’re right. Maybe Rogers has had a strange attitude adjustment. The world’s not what he envisioned. But just. Sleep on it, okay? If it still doesn’t feel right… then go.” 

All too late you realized why this was pinging a strange sense of hurt for him. He didn’t think he was worth all this trouble. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. “You’re important to me, you know?” Turning, you reached your hand up, settling it over his heart. “I think we rushed. And I missed my chance to tell him- maybe it doesn’t matter because we’re not there anymore- but I take great exception to the way he treated you.” Seemed like you were doing a lot of that lately. “And whatever’s going on with him- probably doesn’t have anything to do with you- but he needs to figure it out. Because if he doesn’t, we’re gonna be on the other end of whatever that ends up looking like.” 

Cleaning up whatever mess that made. Steve was still young- technically speaking. Tony may have been on to something. Steve might have been coming to a bitter realization that things were not the way he thought they would be. It was affecting him. Maybe Tony was just an easy target. Loud, brash, outwardly egotistical, and easily settling into the famed lifestyle of a hero. And maybe Steve had settled into a life that was too much. It was why you’d asked him many times to try and find some avenues outside being a hero.

Or maybe it was something else entirely. 

But whatever it was Steve needed a talking to, for Tony’s sake, if nothing else. But also because if he seriously didn’t figure it out, he could be the reason somebody else on that team got too heated. Being on the end of Steve’s staredowns was not easy. They didn’t need to become a concoction ready to explode. They needed to be okay. And you needed to make sure they were. Maybe you hadn’t done your due diligence after all. Always and forever- Maybe. 

Tony’s lips twitched a brief smile. “I love you. I’m not gonna stand in your way of giving anybody a verbal beatdown. I’ll be sorry to miss it.” He didn’t think he was worth defending, but all the same, it filled his heart to have somebody that would go to bat for him. Every time. Because you would. ...even if it was a little late. “Just. Sleep on it, okay?” 

You gave a small nod. “Okay. I will.” You would. But… 

Your mind was already made up. 

[polygamyff]

58. Part 4

Feeling a little hand slap my arm but I am just watching intently at the interaction between the Davenport family and to see the brother’s of Marquis stood with Maurice, but the one brother that is missing, I mean we know why but these old men look so excited to be out. Marquis looks the oldest out of them all, probably the most stressed. I mean rich men do be living long with all the surgery and shit but this is interesting to see, Maurice did say that Marquis loves to put on a good show “Robyn” someone said my name “Robyn” looking at Ally “I think they want you to go” Ally said, “on my own?” I retorted, they want me to go alone “Robyn, you know sometimes when Maurice can’t do or be at a place you will be the next to do it, you’re his partner so yes. It will be ok; we will have your mother follow along with Reign. They want you alone” Ally explained “but why not Reign with me?” I don’t understand “she said why not Reign?” Ally asked on my behalf “they just want you alone before the child, come on. Tight schedule” this is not the time to have a mental breakdown, I mean what the hell do I do or even stand like “good look baby” my mom said while walking behind the lady “you look beautiful Robyn, do not worry” Adam rushed to my side “you are going to be the talk of the blogs, I promise you. Go and be the princess you are!” Adam shouted waving me off, I am sweating, and I can feel it. I am literally being thrown to the hounds on my own, everyone is looking at me “Robyn Willis!” the lady shouted, why did she have to do this and announce it is so loudly. Taking in a deep breath, I am blushing, this is not good. Stepping onto the red carpet, I am not even sure where I stand at all “just here” the production runner came to me, clasping my hands together in front of me as I turned to the cameras. This is not me at all, I need to not squint my eyes, but I am probably looking awful “oh my god! You are beautiful, look over here!” someone shouted, I laughed because it was funny to hear “over here, just move to the side. Show off the legs!” I feel so ashamed right now as I moved to the side “and look at us! Just here!” I don’t know who is even saying this to me, the flashes are blinding me. Licking my lips as I laughed again “why don’t your fiancé stand you! Where is he?” someone shouted, I turned back around “you know more then me” I said, I don’t know where he even is “Robbie” just about hearing my mother say, looking over at her. I cooed out at my daughter, I am shocked she is openly wanting to walk with the people stood there just blinding with flashes “come on baby” I said laughing, she is holding my mom’ hand as she walked over to me.

My mother soon ran off, she didn’t want to be in this at all “you going to pose for them” I said stepping back from Reign, she is not bothered at all but was watching me walk off “Reign!” someone shouted which caught her attention as she moved around “hello, awwww” Reign started waving at them, she is not bothered at all my daughter. Watching her pace around and then ran at me “aww ok, come here” picking her up “you gone shy now” Reign hid her face on my shoulder, I love her so much. Wrapping my arms around her, my heart literally skipped a beat seeing Maurice. He is here, he left me with this. He is just giving me big dick energy today, but he doesn’t need to leave me like this “you ok? I thought I would let you be the main attraction, who am I” trying to not smile at his stupid face because he ditched my ass here “move to the middle! Can we just have the new faces of the Davenport company” Maurice moved back away from me as I joined him, standing next to Maurice as he placed his arm around me. Reign moved her head from my shoulder finally “beautiful family!” looking at Maurice, he eventually looked at me “I think they mean me” he said, rolling my eyes at him “big headed” he pecked my lips “come here, you let me hold you” Maurice said to Reign, she went to Maurice straight away but he placed her down to stand “it’s ok, papa is here” he crouched down with her, Reign pointed at Marquis. I knew Marquis would be here for his little angel, Reign clapped her hands as she walked towards him.

I would leave Reign with Marquis but he cannot control her at all so I will leave her with my mother “we need you both to be walking together and being together now” Maurice’ publicist said “mother, please come to me if she is not playing ball and Jay, you stay with my mom ok. I don’t need it, I want my daughter and my mom to be ok” Jay nodded his head “you the boss” he laughed “thank you, mom just stay close to us. I will watch on” my mom smiled at me “I am ok, I have Jay. He will be make sure I will be fine” nodding my head as I walked off “you done fussing now?” Maurice said “I am not done fussing, but I just needed my daughter and my mom to be ok” Maurice held my hand “Maurice, a few words with BET” Lorraine said, I guess I am just going to be the side person just to look good I guess “Maurice, thank you for speaking to us. This day is an iconic day for you, for the company and for the face of the company. You have taken us to new heights, you have attracted attention for all young black business men. To be a billionaire, not in the fact you own Davenport hotels but because you have made your own business ventures, do you feel proud of how far you come, because out there the is hundreds or even thousands of men that are going through trauma that you did, there is no hiding the fact you had drugs so what do you say to that” that is a lengthy question “I would say that you can do it, you can come out of things. You can do it, there is people out there with no good support system and even with that you need to find it within yourself to want to do good. I have been against a lot of bad to get to this point, I think what I had to do is get rid of the bad and bring in the good. Keep your circle small too, I wouldn’t honestly be here if it weren’t for my team. I am just the face but the people behind me, they are the ones that have took my ideas and made it a reality, but I want to say to every person out there. You can do it, you probably think I am some rich man saying this but you can do it and you can come through this, not even money can bring you health and I was close to death” staring at Maurice’ side profile, he answered that so well I am so proud of him.

I am not sure if Maurice is bored of answering shit because I am, I hope the New York times is the last one because I am just stood here bored as shit “I think Robyn can answer that” I heard my name and I didn’t even hear what they said, this is not good “yes?” I said looking at Maurice “he asked about the club deal and Apartment complex. How do you feel to be in such a prestigious family” Maurice said as he moved to the side a little “it’s good, and I am ready to take on the clubs along side Jay” I don’t know these things “she is new to this” Maurice said laughing “you’re a doctor, do you think this will change you now? Did you expect this?” the interviewer asked “I am not sure but I love my job and I love saving lives, I think it’s overwhelming but Maurice is a great support for me and the only way is up for us both, we work together as a team” looking at Maurice “yeah, she’s been the rock I needed. And I think you will see her name more and more; she is a great mother and a wife. And I know it’s a big title to put on us but with Robyn here, she is going to make sure we can give the people what they want” smiling at Maurice as he smiled at me “it’s been a pleasure to speak to you both, thank you” the interviewer said “thank you” Maurice walked off with me “shall we go inside finally” Ally said while walking at the side of Maurice.

I expected the reception area to be filled but apparently everyone is already sitting down and ready, I mean that is a bad for me because I don’t want to walk in with all eyes on me I suppose. Maurice is busy talking to people so I will slip away and see to my mother, I laughed seeing Jay holding Reign. I bet my mother could not deal with holding her “oh my princess, you happy to see mommy. Come here” taking Reign from Jay, I can’t just leave my daughter there clapping in excitement “mama” she hugged my neck “awww, I love you. What a nightmare, Maurice literally put me on the spot with answering a question” I am glad Reign is not acting out like I thought, she is pretty much a little taken a back by it all but is doing well, rubbing her back “I am back” look at my auntie, she done rushed back “did you get a speeding ticket?” I asked, she must have because that was too quick “oh girl, no. But I am here, they tried to stop me at the door, and I said do you know who I am” laughing at my auntie “Robyn, hey. Maurice is going in, but he asked me to tell you to take your seat” Ally said, “and where is that?” I asked her “good question, I will ask the runner. I will be back, Maurice had to go, he said he was sorry” nodding my head as Ally ran off “nigga is busy ain’t he” Jay said “he is, he’s a little everywhere, I don’t want to add to his issue so I am just taking it as it is. He does remember me I guess” Jay nodded his head “my niece better show out! Show these who is queen, does my hair look ok?” rolling my eyes at my auntie.

I suppose come to think of it, Maurice should have walked in with me, but he rushed off and I am not going to get into it “I found your seats, I need to go and see to Maurice but. She will take you” Ally ran off “I wish I could tell her that her hair is a mess” Jay said which made me laugh “stop it, she is so stressed, I feel for her” he is so stupid “well shall we” Jay said laughing to himself, he is funny. I feel like we are the last ones to go inside, this just gives me birthday vibes and I hate that. His birthday was so stressful, but I wasn’t as late as this, let me just suck it up and walk “mmmm” Reign pointed at the ground “you want to walk baby? That is ok, you can walk” putting Reign down before standing straight holding Reign’ hand “mind out Jay!” someone said and then seeing it’s Rich but then he creates drama like people are looking now as I walked in, oh here the finger pointing goes “come on Reign, give me a smile. Come on” looking down at Reign “give Rich cheese” Reign looked at me and did it which made me laugh, what is she like “beautiful, mother. Just stand to the side a little, keep walking though” I could kill Rich right now because this is so embarrassing that people are looking “ooohhh oh my god hey girl” I gasped, I don’t know why but I did but it’s Beyoncé, why the fuck wouldn’t I “Reign is so beautiful” hugging Bey “thank you, she wanted to walk down. Your dress is so beautiful” I said to Bey, she always looks beautiful “we will catch up after, both mother and daughter look perfect” Bey is complimenting me, my god “little boss and big boss” Jay waved at me “you not dodging my calls again” I laughed, he is so annoying for airing that out, I am getting stared at for that comment “wave at Auntie” I said to Reign, she better wave to Bey but my daughter did “I just want to steal her, and don’t look so nervous, you look great” Bey squeezed my arm as she sat back down. Let me gather myself up, his family are gawking at me “hey” hearing someone say and then noticing Diddy waving at Reign, oh chile Quincy is here “seats here” Jay said, well ok at me being on the seat behind, girls not allowed to be in front because it’s very male dominating front row. I want to say something, but I won’t, also the Saudi prince is here which I didn’t think he would be, but he is with his entourage. Lifting Reign and placing her on my lap, I am not amused by the second row business and Maurice is not even here or even sitting down with us.

I am so hot and bothered right now “I didn’t think you was inviting the whole of Cali, this is ridiculous dad” I am not angry, maybe I am but I am more angry at the facr every family member from Texas is here “let’s just move forward, Marquis you will start the ceremony, and then Maurice will come up. Quick as we can so we can move on and do that party side of it, everyone is here and waiting” Lorraine said “fine, I am going to sit down then” it was bad enough speaking to press, now I have to speak to the people in the crowd. Rubbing my face as I walked out from the back with Matt, I am stressed a little. Looking up and seeing the seats just filled “it’s ok, I got this” I said to Matt, I just need to sit down. Just these two seats are for my dad and I but then where is “oh” Robyn is behind me; I didn’t set this out at all. Robyn flashed me a smile but I don’t think I can smile when I am sat with my uncles like they are the founding members. Quick Maurice, I need to think. My dad won’t be sitting here until I get up so Robyn can sit here, also my dad won’t mind but she shouldn’t be sitting behind me “Robyn” I leaned over “get up, sit next to me” I said in a whisper, moving back as I sat down “you ready for this” my uncle said, Kellen’ dad is after my throne “ready as I can be, you ready to work”  I said not even looking at him “this seating plan was laid out for family members” he is just trying to annoy me “I think the next in line should be the one to sit here, aww Reign, come here” taking Reign from Robyn as she sat down next to me, placing Reign on my lap as the lights dimmed a little, here comes my dad with the video promo, he loves himself and the work he has done “you look beautiful” I said to Robyn “thank you” Robyn placed her hand on my leg as she leaned into me to get comfortable.

I laughed as I clapped, I hate this kind of shit “which suit addition is that?” Robyn said “why are you laughing, shut up. I hate these ugly promo pictures, I mean look at them” Robyn is laughing at me, she is not shit at all “dada!” Reign shouted pointing and then looked at me “yes I know baby” I laughed at Reign as she clapped after everyone stopped, she would do that. My dad is walking with no walking stick, but T is helping him, what is he trying to prove with his old self. Reign wanted to get off my lap “what if she runs off” letting her get down “Then Matt can chase her, she will be ok” the clapping started again and Reign turned around looking like they are doing it for her, my dad made it finally and the clapping died down but Reign decided she would do it now with some screaming added “is that my grandbaby letting everyone know who she is” my dad said laughing down the mic “I know Reign, thank you” I shushed Reign but she turned away, she is going to do her own thing now I guess “I want to first of all thank everyone that came, you all came here for my son, for the love you hold for him, that brings me great joy. Friends, family, family friends we appreciate you all. When I took over this company, it was as simple as picture with the paperwork in my hands, as you can see” the picture of my dad came up “he looks like you” Robyn said to me “you fancy my dad then?” I said to her “be quiet” she hit my leg “and we come now, this is my boy. Officially he has taken over, which happened in New York alongside his lawyer and mine. But by this point anyways my son is on Forbes, he is a billionaire without the need for this company” I grinned at my dad hyping me up “look at that smile of yours on that picture” Robyn whispered “we have come a long way and we have entered a new phase in this company, we have entered the future way before this even came around. Maurice set out his plans and he made it happen. I couldn’t make Dubai, but he told me dad, I can do this. He went to Dubai for a month, came back with a new island just for the Davenport hotel, he bought more then just a hotel, he bought land, he bought stores and he bought us more custom overseas. Then he joked with me, I thought he was anyways. I will take Hilton, he did and not just a merger, he took the whole company. He said he was being nice to keep their name somewhat on there, we are still on discussions with them for this. If I didn’t think he would be good enough for this company I wouldn’t have left it. He has proved himself; I am excited to watch his next move. Is it Hyatt or Mariott next” my dad said looking at me which made me laugh “the future is bright, and I have never felt so happy to pass something on. I want you all to give a round of a applause to the owner of Davenport, Davenport-Hilton and everything on top of that, Maurice Davenport” I hate the attention “proud of you” Robyn said “thank you” pecking her lips before getting up from the seat, the claps and cheering, I really didn’t want all this but my dad is just dramatic of course.

Hugging my dad “so proud of you Maurice, I love you” my dad said in my ear “I love you too dad, thank you for this” patting his back as I moved back from the hug, they are still clapping and I don’t have my speech like I was supposed to keep with me. I blew out air laughing “thank you, you all can stop now” I said on the mic, the clapping calmed down “I just want to say thank you to every person in the room, I know some came from far for me, for this. It’s much appreciated and if I haven’t spoken to you I hope we do by the end of the night” I sighed out, I got to think now “Pretty much my path was laid out, from the moment I arrived I was destined to be this. This is the moment; this is the moment my dad wanted, and he wanted to make sure I was ready for it. I mean even at this moment I still need him; he has been the best teacher to me. He is my other half, at times I don’t show it but Marquis has been the best dad to me and a great teacher to me because we all know this in this room that I haven’t been the best person, I mean who am I to shy away from the facts. I know what I am and who I was, but we all grow don’t we. And that was thanks to my dad, he was there for me. Enough of the story time but I am excited for what is next, what is next for the name Davenport, I have so much to come, some things I can’t speak on but what I can speak on is the full takeover of Hilton, overseas will be mine, Tokyo also, and now we are aiming at property development. There is no stopping with my company, there is no such word of I can’t. I have personal business ventures too, so the future is very bright, and I am sure over the coming months the stories will come out on what is the next big thing. I am speaking like the fall of Hilton is not a big thing, but it isn’t to me because there is always better out there, and I want the better to be me. With great power comes with more consequences, I got taught that when shares fell. That was because of personal life, personal life affects business. It taught me that social media is the new thing, it gets to the people. I had realised that I had people looking at what I do, people that go through struggles. Which brings me to the biggest person in my life that humbled me, I met a girl” I laughed saying as a few people cheered “yes I met Robyn, then I met another girl. She goes by the name of Reign; she keeps interrupting me with her shouting but both of them together. They have humbled me, shown me that there is purpose to life. I can’t thank Robyn enough, she is a great wife, mother and best friend to me. I also want to thank Terry, she is a great mentor to me, a mother figure I need around me. And I just want to thank my team, they are the hardest working peers I have, my sister that has dealt with overseas and helped with the foundation we run to help the young black queens and kings that want to get into business. Also, my brother Malik, he couldn’t be here today, but he has also the most loveable guy. To my family that support me, you got me then I got you. We not looking to others anymore to feed our families, we are doing this for ourselves. Thank you for all coming out tonight, have a nice night” I said before walking as people started to clap.

[nonsensicalobsessions]

A Symphony without Strings, Coda

Author’s Note:

In music, a coda is a passage that brings a piece (or a movement) to an end.

Charles Burkhart suggests that the reason codas are common, even necessary, is that, in the climax of the main body of a piece, a "particularly effortful passage", often an expanded phrase, is often created by "working an idea through to its structural conclusions" and that, after all this momentum is created, a coda is required to "look back" on the main body, allow listeners to "take it all in", and "create a sense of balance."

(Charles Burkhart is an American musicologist, theorist, composer, and pianist. He holds the title of Professor Emeritus in the Aaron Copland School of Music, Queens College, and the Graduate Center, City University of New York.)

The above has been lifted shamelessly, word for word, from Wikipedia. It explains succinctly and gives authenticity to my decision to not give this last* view into Merry and Tom’s life as an epilogue.

I thank every one of you for reading, commenting, reblogging, and privately reaching out to me, letting me know how this idea of mine connected with you. Saying “thank you” is so inadequate, but it is all that I have...

Thank you-- NonsensicalObsessions.

You know the musical drill by now.

Trigger warning: Leukemia

Selection the First: https://youtu.be/6n5YH1Y0rHE OR https://open.spotify.com/track/4iFjfJGjqh6ixgy6vFCjAk?si=3p7hx-6jTeq7vKiA4PHZaQ

Merry celebrated the first official anniversary of her remission by finally giving in to Tom’s quiet but persistent pleas to marry him:

“Tom, you know I love you, and that’s never going to change. I’ve added your name to Liam’s birth certificate, you are legally his father. He is now William Thomas Skye Hiddleston. Why does this mean so much to you?”

“Why do you keep refusing me?” Tom countered, as they walked hand in hand, following Liam who still wanted to feed the ducks, although he had grown so much he was no longer as concerned if they were greedy.

“Because I don’t understand! You have me. You have Liam. What difference does it make?”

“Because I want to make you mine, in every possible way I can. Because I want to tie you to me with another string, my darling. Yes, Liam now carries my name...and I want the world to know Meredith Yvette Skye, renowned musician, conductor, aspiring composer, and leukemia—”

“Stop,” Merry interrupted him sharply, and placed her hand over his mouth. “I’ve told you, Thomas! You simply cannot say things like that! I know what you were going to say, and you just...can’t.”

“Is that what this is all about? You’re afraid to marry me because you’re afraid of a relapse? Merry.” His face was reproachful. 

“I don’t want to make you a widower, Tom.”

“Merry. Whatever the future holds, we can’t change a thing...but we can be happy now. In this moment. Darling, please...will you agree to be my bride? Say you’ll be my wife.”

When she didn’t immediately refuse, as she had done countless times before, Tom stopped in front of her, and saw her torn expression. Slowly, he got down on one knee, and pulled out of his pocket the box he kept on his person at all times, in readiness for the moment when he finally wore her down.

“My sweetest Mozart...will you marry me? Please say you’ll honor me, and be my wife.”

The sun caught her hair, short, but still a riot of curls, a much darker red than before, but still created a halo around her head. “Yes, Tom,” she answered with a smile at last. “Yes, I will marry you.”

“Papa? What are you doing?”

Liam watched his father slide a ring onto his mother’s finger, oblivious to the crowd of onlookers that had gathered and were taking photos, cheering and shouting out congratulations.

“Something I should have done a long time ago, son. Are you ready to go home?”

“Uh huh. I ran out of bread. Greedy ducks.” 

The three of them walked home, Papa Bear, Liam, and Mama, animatedly discussing what would be for supper.

“We need to text Luke,” Merry sighed.

“Why bother? I’m sure he already knows,” Tom replied cheerfully.

Merry sighed, and reached for her phone, but before she could even reach it, Tom’s began to buzz like a hornet.

“See?”

Merry celebrated the second official anniversary of her remission by holding a small benefit concert in New York for Sloan Kettering, to benefit leukemia research. She hand selected the musicians, and was surprised by the interest generated. She had to find a larger venue twice.

Merry celebrated the third anniversary of her remission by being the soloist for Aiden’s wedding to Catherine Walsh. Aiden never expected to fall in love. In fact, he never had moved out of the small, unusual family home, even as Tom and Merry’s relationship became more solid, her health continued to improve, and she and Tom even wed in an very small, private ceremony. He was simply too bonded to Liam, and Liam to Aiden. Both Merry and Tom would never have countenanced trying to weaken or break their tender connection, and would have fought anyone who would have attempted to do so. 

As Liam was now in school, Aiden was free to do as he liked during the school hours, and decided he wanted to pursue teaching at the same school Liam was attending, as there was an opening. Once there, he fell head over heels—literally—when he was knocked over by a choir director who was overloaded with stacks of music. 

Liam was too old to be a ring bearer, but just perfect for standing alongside his beloved mentor and handing him the rings at the appointed time. The best man, Tom Hiddleston, thought this was completely appropriate.

Merry celebrated the fourth anniversary of her remission by forcing her beloved husband into taking a much needed vacation. He had been working a crushing schedule for the past year, and she had had enough of being apart from him. While she was very understanding and patient, and wanted to see him take the roles he desired, the projects that meant the most to him, and was fiercely proud of the honors and awards he achieved, she was also very frustrated with seeing how depressed Liam was with his Papa’s continual absences, Tom’s persistent weary appearance on their frequent video calls, and her trying to juggle Tom’s schedule with Liam’s schooling and her occasional guest appearances with different musical groups and working on her own compositions. Tom was aghast when he realized how badly his son was missing him, how thin Merry had become trying to keep everyone happy as well as worrying about everyone but herself, and even how he wasn’t taking the best care of himself in the absence of his doting wife. When he saw how wan Merry was, he actually became frightened and insisted on her scheduling an appointment with Kelly as soon as they left their island retreat. Kelly saw through Merry’s new tan immediately, and ran every test twice.

To Tom’s immeasurable relief, Merry still showed no sign of the leukemia having returned...but he felt Kelly’s eyes on him, mutely judging him for allowing her to become so worn down. A few casual statements about “the price of success” and “the value of family” and he could scarcely lift his head from the shame.

When the appointment was over, Merry teased Tom, “I told you I was fine, worry wart. I was just tired, that’s all.”

“That flu you battled didn’t help. You dropped weight you could ill afford to lose,” Kelly mildly reminded her, and Tom winced imperceptibly, even as he turned to face his wife. 

He smiled, and kissed Merry. “You are worth everything to me,” he answered honestly. “It was worth the peace of mind, to have Kelly take a look at you.”

“Merry, why don’t you stop by the music room, and I’ll let everyone who is ambulatory know you’re around for a quick few pieces, if you’re amenable,” smiled Kelly.

“Of course,” agreed Merry. “I’ll go freshen up and meet you there.”

Once she was gone, Kelly dropped the affable expression and simply...looked at Tom.

“Music room? That’s new,” Tom said, hoping to stall the inevitable.

“No, it’s been around for about a year now. You didn’t know about it?”

“Should I have?” 

“Considering it was your wife’s idea, she spearheaded the fundraising, organized the purchasing, and wrote the philosophy and goals behind it, I would think so, yes.” Kelly stood and looked at him, her face blank. “I’m disappointed in you, Tom.”

He reared back as if he had been slapped.

“Do you have any idea how lucky you are? How phenomenally blessed? That woman is a walking scientific breakthrough. They are citing her case and will be for years to come. Do you know what the average survival rate was for adults with ALL? Only 25% to 35% of adults were able to live five years or longer. And when she came to you, Tom, she was already at year four...on experimental trial, conceivably her last chance. Do you even remember what poor condition she was in, or have you blocked that out already?”

“I remember,” he answered tonelessly.

“I would almost rather you had forgotten. It would make the condition that she is in now easier to understand.” Kelly sighed. “I know, I know you have amazing opportunities. I know too that she makes it easy for you to forget. But I didn’t think you’d be this complacent. I truly didn’t.”

Tom remained silent, just ran his fingers along the underside of her desk.

“Just stop and think about what success really means, Tom. And what you really need to be happy.” Kelly stopped. “But I’m up on my soapbox again. Come see what your wife has been up to while you’ve been away. I am not denigrating your work. I know you make millions of people happy. That is important. Please don’t think I am unaware of it.”

She guided Tom to an area he had never had a reason to visit, and as he approached, he heard laughter, music, and squealing of children.

“You know Merry, she’s never happy if she can’t be making music,” Tom remembered Aiden saying once.

He walked into an area that looked like a scene from...well, a movie.

The walls were a combination of windows to let in natural light, and whimsical murals of sheet music, with happy, smiling quarter notes, half notes, rests and treble clefs and sharps... there was a piano, and stringed instruments hanging carefully from the walls, with sign up sheets for lessons...headphones with beanbag chairs and recliners, for anyone to just lie back and enjoy listening...Merry was seated in the center, with a cello, and a group of children running the gamut of ages, with a handful of adults, some clearly patients, some visiting family members.

Merry was being hit with a deluge of questions, but as Tom looked about, he saw a plaque on the wall that simply read, “The Music Room” and underneath in a smaller font “Where words fail, music speaks: Hans Christian Andersen”. 

Tom deliberately remained in the back of the room. He did not want to be noticed. This was a place where people, young and old alike, came to find some healing in music. His beloved wife had arranged for this temple to be erected, and now, she graced it like the goddess she was. Far be it from him to distract the devout.

He smiled as he heard the clamor for her to play, and she laughed and agreed to play for awhile. He leaned against the glass, angling himself so he could watch her in the reflection as she tuned the cello quickly and began.

Not surprisingly, her first piece was a rollicking jig that set the youngest set dancing if they were strong enough, and those that felt they were either too tired or else too grown up just laughed and clapped along. Tom smiled as he looked at his shoes, wishing for his spoons. Such was the joy she inspired.

Her second was a waltz. He actually turned and caught her eye, surprised. His heart and conscience tugged at him, as he wondered when was the last time he had danced with his wife. He’d forgotten. Listening to her lilting notes, he was drawn with the strong urge to whisk her up and begin dancing with her himself, remembering how he would do so as Liam would laugh and laugh as he did so.

The third was soft, and gentle, but not melancholy. He saw where she deliberately chose selections that would not leave anyone’s spirits feeling lonely, or anxious. A wave of love crashed over his heart. She knew grief, abandonment, and weariness, and was making sure that in this place, she would not add these burdens to her small audience.

“All right, last one,” she said. There was a small outcry of “awww”s and she rested on her cello for a moment as she confided, “I don’t know if you are aware of it, but I was treated here too...just down the hall there. Yes, it’s true,” she added when there were a few that expressed their surprise. Merry was not in the best of shape, maybe, as Tom looked at her with his eyes newly opened with guilt and a strong resolve to make sure she became stronger and sleeker under his loving, watchful gaze...but she was here.

“Like all of you, there were days I felt sick to my soul...so tired, and just over it all...but then I would hear this song, and I would find enough encouragement to pick my head up, and keep on keeping on. I’m going to share it with you, and I hope it helps you when you’re feeling like you need a pick me up. If you know the lyrics, sing along, all right?”

Tom was intrigued. Merry had never mentioned any of this to him...

Before she started, she dragged over a wooden box that held a collection of musical toys, and winking at one of the kids, quickly rigged it into an impromptu...foot powered drum?

Merry, what are you up to?

Once again, he caught her eye, his eyebrow lifted in blatant curiosity. She simply gave him a small grin, and began.

He fell in love, all over again:

Selection the Second: Reader’s Choice: Instrumental--https://youtu.be/rYQLXeDZ3lw OR https://open.spotify.com/track/3eAYt2sZZSyqBM2LllwPJg?si=Px-xv-uPTHyAq7LbiucFwQ  

OR Vocals https://youtu.be/xo1VInw-SKc OR https://open.spotify.com/track/37f4ITSlgPX81ad2EvmVQr?si=shhYva9cQUmuIjMWJn_igQ

Like a small boat

On the ocean

Sending big waves

Into motion

Like how a single word

Can make a heart open

I might only have one match

But I can make an explosion

And all those things I didn't say

Wrecking balls inside my brain

I will scream them loud tonight

Can you hear my voice this time?

This is my fight song

Take back my life song

Prove I'm alright song

My power's turned on

Starting right now I'll be strong

I'll play my fight song

And I don't really care if nobody else believes

'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me

Her voice started off alone, quiet but sure, but then another voice picked up, and then another. Her foot was keeping time fiercely with her makeshift drum. Children were jumping and dancing. Adults were standing and swaying, some with their hands over their heads. Some had tears on their faces, others were laughing, still others were singing with triumph written all over their faces. By the end, Tom saw everyone was singing, including Kelly, who was taking turns dancing with different patients and family members. The music was more than just notes, it was a manifestation of the spirit of everyone present, refusing to bow to the odds, defying weakness and pain and suffering. 

She turned to Tom once when she sang, 

And all those things I didn't say

Wrecking balls inside my brain

I will scream them loud tonight

Can you hear my voice this time?

He saw the memory of the pain in her eyes, all the nights she couldn’t sleep, and her mind must have gone round for round, all the words she wanted to say, but never had, second guessing herself, playing the “what-if” game...he mouthed, “I love you,” to her, and saw a smile fill those same eyes, and promised himself he was going to make sure tonight her eyes held nothing but joy.

When the singing stopped, Merry looked at everyone present and repeated, “Cause I know I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me...and so do you.”

Oh yes, my Mozart. You do. And I’m not going to be complacent anymore.

Selection the Third: https://youtu.be/8L-Bk28Ra6Q OR https://open.spotify.com/track/1iyMfyCRzkcW3x7CGEckgY?si=rIf8VY5BQiislFRKsJ3Z8g

Merry celebrated the fifth anniversary of her remission by participating in the third annual benefit concert for Sloan Kettering. What she had begun to celebrate her second anniversary had grown so huge she was unable to continue it on her own, and gratefully turned the entire thing over to the New York Symphony’s auspices. 

It was an extremely emotional experience for her. Not only was it what many saw as a coveted milestone, (although there was a lot of debate as to whether five years was the milestone or ten, to be considered as “cured”), but Merry, absolutely quaking and gripped with stage fright for the first time in her entire life, stepped in front of the New York Symphony Orchestra to conduct her own composition, A Symphony with Strings, in C.

She was repeatedly asked about the quirky title, “Don’t all symphonies have strings?” which led her patiently answering, repeatedly, how “strings” referred to a metaphor about connections, and how certain themes began in the opening, then changed, grew and matured throughout the composition, just as in a relationship.

The fact her main “string” had a name—William Thomas—she kept to herself.

Tom was the only person that asked what she considered the real question:

“Why C major?”

It was after the performance, and the after parties. Merry was lying down on a massive hotel bed, hair (glorious once more) spread across a sinfully decadent pillowcase, a cool cloth across her eyes. Tom had all the lights off, and the drapes open, so the lights of the city skyline were visible. Aiden had Liam with him and Catherine two floors down, so they could enjoy being blissfully, unapologetically nude after enjoying their own after-after party.

“Because I wrote it.”

Merry’s voice was lazy and content.

“That is...as clear as mud.”

“Well, darling husband, I guess if you had written it, it would have been in the key of E...? Or maybe G...” she yawned. Her head was aching as she was coming off all of the champagne she had consumed. “Drink more water,” Tom ordered her as he refreshed the cloth, “and try explaining that one again, please?”

Merry rolled over to her side, arm extended, as she gratefully accepted the facecloth.

“C for Chai, Tom...rather than Earl Grey.”

Merry celebrated the sixth and seventh anniversary of her remission quietly. She and Tom had settled down in a lovely neighborhood in London. Tom had decided he was going to do more theater, and if and when a project came along he simply could not turn down, he did his level best to either take his family along, or else manage his time away so there were plenty of opportunity for visits. Gone were the months and months of time spent apart. No one was happy, and Tom recognized no role, no award, was worth losing so much time with his family. He would never forgive himself if a movie, or a play, caused his family so much grief. Nothing was worth it.

Liam, like his mother, was an extremely talented musician. Merry never pushed Liam beyond his capabilities, nor beyond his passion. She also did not try to teach her son, rather acted as his confidante, advisor, and above all, his doting and loving mother...who still would take no excuses for rudeness or poor behavior.

Aiden and Catherine remained in the States, and it was a painful wrench when the odd little family separated themselves by an ocean. However, between daily video calls, incessant texting, and frequent visits, the pain was eased. Aiden knew he and his family was always welcome at the Hiddleston home, which was really by extension his home. He remained close to Liam, and his role segued into that of a loving older brother, rather than father figure. Liam kept in daily contact, as did Merry. Tom also blew up his phone on a daily basis. Aiden never felt as though he had been cut off or evicted...and when his own family began expanding, Liam was thrilled to finally have little “cousins” to love and boss as often as he could.

Merry never again went back to conducting. She knew in order for her to regain her edge, she would have to put in massive amounts of time and practice. Even six and seven years after her battle with leukemia, she still revisited Sloan Kettering on a regular basis. Every time she bruised, Tom’s face paled, and any illness, weight loss or fatigue meant an immediate trip to the doctor. Merry’s love for music was still keen, and she played the cello, the piano, and the violin more often than she did anything else. After her symphonic debut, she was approached to compose for a variety of reasons, but she refused most of the commissions, choosing to write only when she felt moved to do so. She was just as focused on her music, and as unfocused on anything else that wasn’t her family. She still needed to set multiple alarms at times, and while she didn’t need as many sticky notes around the house as she did as when Tom first met her, both Liam and Tom knew frequent reminders were often a good idea.

Merry celebrated her eighth anniversary by making the conscious decision not to celebrate her remission anniversaries anymore. Rather, she would celebrate every single day as exactly for what they were: gifts she would enjoy and cherish, for the rest of her life, however long it may be. Counting days was restrictive. Who did that?

Encore:

Tom had just won his first Academy Award for Best Actor.

He was frozen in his seat. Cameras around the world saw his stunned expression, how his PR agent and longtime friend, Luke Windsor, physically grabbed and pushed him towards the stage.

He accepted the coveted trophy and hugs from the two presenters, and stood by the microphone.

He licked his lips, the ran his hand through his hair repeatedly.

“Um, wow,” he managed, to applause and laughter.

Finally, he opened his glasses as he took a folded piece of paper form his sharply tailored tuxedo jacket and began:

“In light of my history of speaking of the cuff for long periods of time, you will be happy to know that my long suffering agent, Luke Windsor, stood over me and made me write this out in advance, even as I whined it was unnecessary, because there was no hope of my winning. He timed me and everything...and my son, Liam Hiddleston, is currently tracking me with a stopwatch. Keep me honest, Liam.”

Cameras panned to a handsome young man, who smiled, rolled his eyes as only a preteen can, and made a, “get on with it,” hand motion as he kept his eyes trained on his watch. More laughter erupted throughout the famed theater.

Tom was perfect. He thanked everyone, in his precise and eloquent fashion: the cast, the crew, the writers...he then thanked his mother, and his sisters.

“Doing all right, Liam?” Liam gave him a “thumbs up.”

At this point, Tom tore his notes up, and Luke audibly gasped. “No, Tom. No. Nononono...”

“Liam...I’ve done a lot of things before I saw you for the first time...and while I am proud of them, they don’t hold a candle in my heart compared to that one moment. The best thing I can hope to do with my life is make you proud of your old man, because the best and most important role I’ve ever gotten is being your Papa.” Tom’s voice was becoming markedly thicker, but he was still able to continue speaking. “I am going to stop embarrassing you now...No I’m not. I love you, son.”

Cameras flashed back to Liam, who was blushing, and grinning, even as he kept making his, “keep going,” hand signals, faster now.

“And now...to my beloved Merry. My wife.” Tom took a deep breath. “Darling...words cannot begin to say how much I love you, so I am not even going to try...” Tom’s voice failed him for a moment. “You are always in my heart...I knew this project was going to be challenging, filming half a world away, but I had no idea, I couldn’t know, Mozart, I didn’t...” Tom’s voice failed him again. The silence in the theatre was so complete, the microphone picked up his intake of breath as he tried again. “You made me into a better man, just by being in my life. You showed me what success truly is. You set the standard for grace, courage, and strength...I could go on and on, but our son is letting me know I’ve run out of time, and that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? So, all I can do for now, is this.” He pressed his lips together into a thin line as he looked upwards from the podium, then blew a kiss out into the sea of lights and faces, because the one face he wanted to see was not there. His voice cracked as he concluded, “You have my heart tonight, tomorrow, and for all time. My God, how I love you, Merry. Thank you.”

The theme music for his film that accompanied his exit off the stage seemed less brassy than usual. After the world, let alone the entire auditorium, witnessed Tom Hiddleston break down so profoundly as he professed his love for his wife, it would have seemed somewhat in questionable taste, even for Hollywood.

Luke was pulling his hair as he was waiting for Tom behind the curtain. “Why, Tom? Why did you do it? You had a perfectly good speech...why did you tear it up?”

Tom was wiping his face with a damp cloth someone had handed him. “Because it didn’t begin to say what was in my heart, Luke! It felt wrong! It was wrong!” As he spoke, his eyes kept darting around wildly. “What’s wrong with speaking what was on my heart?”

“Because, my dearest, you kinda made me sound like I was dead,” Merry answered apologetically. She wrapped her arms around her husband, resting her head against his chest as he firmly gathered her into his embrace. “Between Luke grabbing you and pushing you onstage before I could even give you a kiss, and then another person taking my hand and rushing me backstage...I feel as though I missed the overture and the finale!”

“Darling, I had no idea this film was going to stress our family as badly as it did. You never even told me how ill you were with the flu...Kelly just looked at me, and I realized how far I strayed from my promises, to you and Liam both...Christ, Merry, if I’d lost you? No award would ever make up for that. It would all be ashes in my mouth...”

“But you didn’t lose me. You finished an important work, Tom, with an amazing cast, that is all waiting to celebrate with you...now go on, you silly puppy. You worked so hard. Go play. Meet with everyone who is waiting on you.” Merry stood on her tiptoes and kissed her husband on the lips, her eyes shining with love as she patted his chest.

She was unaware their photo was being taken as she did so, his arm around her waist, her hand over his heart, and the captions all were a variation on the theme:

“A tender moment shared by Academy Award Winner Tom Hiddleston and his wife, classically-trained musician Meredith Skye-Hiddleston. Hiddleston sang praises to his wife, affectionately nicknamed ‘Mozart’ in tribute to her many musical talents, in his acceptance speech. Later in the evening, Skye-Hiddleston wryly commented, “There is a reason Tom needs to stick to the notes as they are written. He’s not ready for cadenzas just yet.”

So Merry, Liam, and Papa Bear?

They lived happily ever after.

TAGGING: Lifetime Memberships @hopelessromanticspoonie​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @just-the-hiddles​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @winterisakiller​ @theheartofpenelope​

Symphony Season Ticket Holders: @jessiejunebug​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @scorpionchild81​ @tinchentitri​ @theoneanna​ @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi​ @blacksuitofdoom​ @mishaandthebrits​ @wegingerangelica​n @rjohnson1280​ @ms-cellanies​ @noplacelikehome77​ @villainousshakespeare​

* simply because Aiden has quite politely asked his side of Chapter 7 be told. We shall see.

Dedicated in loving memory of Christine. Your fight song will never be            silenced in my heart...but my God, I miss you so much.

[honestandsincere]

reputation

Y/n writes something that Ethan doesn’t like

----

“This is preposterous! Totally and utterly absurd! It’s almost laughable!” “Mr Dolan, I’m terribly sorry-” “Sorry doesn’t cut it, Howard! This is my entire reputation we’re talking about here. This is slander!” “Again, Mr Dolan, if there’s anything I can do-” “Don’t publish the damn article, Howard!”

Ethan Dolan slams a tight fist onto the desk in front of him before pushing himself out of the worn leather chair. He grunts in frustration when his eyes meet his brother’s, sending him a look of warning. Rage pulses through him; he feels his forehead pound with stress. Ethan likes to think he’s untouchable, but this article might just be his downfall.

“I’m afraid, Mr Dolan, that the decision of whether or not the article should be published lies in the hands of its author,” Howard Benson, editor in chief of LIFE Magazine says calmly. Ethan takes a deep breath and walks past his brother towards the floor length window of the office, his eyes scanning the skyscrapers and seemingly tiny reflective pieces of glass. He chuckles in incredulity, knowing that if push comes to shove he could end the publication entirely. But he doesn’t want to destroy them just yet. “Forgive me, Howard, but aren’t you in charge of the final draft of the magazine? Surely this is all under your control?” “I wish I could do something about it, Mr Dolan. LIFE Magazine puts all responsibility in the hands of our journalists, that’s what makes us so unique.”

Ethan pivots quickly, his head snapping towards Benson’s direction, the cool facade he’d put on now fading. Grayson can see his brother is on the cusp of another verbal explosion but makes no attempt to stop him. “It makes you a joke of a publication! This article is about me, my business! I should have a say in what gets released!” “I understand that Mr Dolan, but you did agree to an unbiased interview. Miss y/l/n simply wrote about her observations.” Ethan clenches his jaw, walking back towards the so-called boss’ desk. He presses his palms against the mahogany, pushing his weight towards Benson, “What a pathetic excuse for a journalist, Howard. I should’ve known she would manipulate everything I said for clout, some kind of twisted kudos-”

“Ethan,” Grayson finally intervenes from the back of the room, “watch what you’re saying.” The older twin rolls his eyes, “If you read the article, Grayson you’d understand I’m entitled to an opinion on Miss y/l/n considering she shat all over our business��� name.” “Miss y/l/n has been one of our most esteemed writers for the past three years, Mr Dolan. She’s incredibly well received by our readers. This article is not a reflection of her work in its entirety,” despite being a man of maybe sixty, Howard Benson seems intimidated by Ethan’s presence.

Ethan pushes himself from the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. He feels as though he’s overheating, never has he been so disrespected in his entire career. “Bring her in,” he shrugs. “I’m sorry-” “Did I stutter, Howard? I said bring her in.” “Ethan, bro you’ve gotta calm down,” Grayson sighs. “When we’re filing for bankruptcy because the entirety of New York turns against us, I’ll calm down,” Ethan spits.

Benson reaches forward for his telephone and Ethan watches as he pushes a sequence of numbers into the machine. “Hi Mary, could you please send in y/n? Thank you,” he sounds tired, weary. He doesn’t look up to gauge Ethan’s reaction.

----

“So, Mr Dolan, what was it that drew you to business?”

Ethan leans back into the plush velvet armchair of The Ritz-Carlton’s restaurant. He weaves his thick, ring-clad fingers together and pushes a small hum from his full lips. “I guess I’ve always had an entrepreneurial streak in me. My brother and I would sell candy during recess at school, I’ve always been good at selling.”

Y/n y/l/n taps her ballpoint pen against her chin after scribbling down each of his words, “Could you let our readers know what it is you do?” “My brother Grayson and I are what I like to call the ‘New Real Estate’. Dolan & Dolan buys derelict and abandoned plots of land across the city for huge companies like hotel chains or shopping complexes.” “Interesting,” she nods slowly, Ethan pays attention to the way her brow furrows in focus as she’s listening to him, “what project are you most proud of thus far?”

He takes a sip of his gin and tonic, letting the satisfying burn tingle the back of his throat. He swills the liquid around the crystal glass before speaking, “Last year we found a plot in Brooklyn, a real shabby place. It’s now just had planning permission from the council for a new Four Seasons Hotel. It’ll generate a few hundred jobs and will be superbly beneficial for the community.” Y/n grimaces, but he’s too busy checking his phone to notice. Ethan’s black pinstripe suit and shiny Gucci loafers make her feel a bit queasy, this man is wearing her month’s paycheck. She glances at her recording device that’s on the table in front of them. They’ve been talking for approximately ten minutes and she already knows she can’t stand the man.

His arrogance is disgusting; she didn’t miss the tone he used with the waiter when he explained that the table by the window had already been reserved. She notices the way he refuses the engage in any of her questions that don’t involve him. When she’d asked him about his opinion on the city’s new plan to cut carbon emissions he’d been incredibly nonchalant, and yet as soon as she’d referred to his success at the Business Awards earlier this year it was hard to get him to shut up. Y/n had done her research into Dolan & Dolan. She knows what they do. All this talk about ‘derelict and abandoned’ patches of land across the city is a joke. Essentially, they wipe out other businesses around them, forcing them to sell their office blocks or warehouses to the brothers who then go on to rake in millions from these huge chains. It’s foul play. There’s nothing commendable about it. But she’s not going to let Ethan Dolan know that she knows.

“So how do you go about sourcing this land, Mr Dolan?” she asks innocently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He smirks at her, loving the way she seems so dazzled by his presence, “Well, nobody loves this city as much as my brother and I. A lot of the time we head out into deprived areas and ask local people what kind of change they’d like to see in their communities. Most of the time they’re looking for business, something that’s gonna draw people to their corner of the world, y’know?”

Y/n hums in false agreement. Another lie. Ethan Dolan has never set foot in a ‘deprived’ area in his life. Dolan & Dolan’s main projects are based in the city center, the big highrise buildings that are constantly being refurbished are all down to them. Buying out businesses. Admittedly, y/n cannot hold him responsible for making people redundant. Having rifled through what must have been thousands of documents online, it seems that Dolan & Dolan employs those that worked for the businesses they destroyed. This young man in front of her, his pretense of integrity, is sitting on one of the biggest empires in the city. But he’s not a good man.

“Earlier this year, Vogue labeled you one of the ‘most eligible bachelors in the world’. How does that make you feel?” “I think you’re mistaken because I rank number one on that list,” he laughs at her, watching the way she clenches her jaw, “In all honesty, it doesn’t bother me.” Y/n wants to roll her eyes, his words seem humble and innocent but it’s his tone that gives him away. It’s like he knows this interview will look nothing but praising in print. Ethan Dolan is making her feel stupid. She hates it. “Finally, what are your aspirations for the future, Mr Dolan?”

Ethan leans towards her, setting his glass on the table and not breaking eye contact, “I guess, Miss y/l/n, I just wanna make the business world a better place for young philanthropists like myself.”

----

Y/n y/l/n would be Ethan’s cup of tea if he didn’t hate her. She’s pretty, well dressed and clearly an educated young lady. He can’t stand her.

As she walks through Benson’s door, her wide smile falters. Y/n’s eyes meet Ethan’s and the softness of her features harden. She sends him a curt nod and shakes Grayson’s extended hand with mandatory politeness. Y/n looks like she belongs in an office, her pencil skirt, and crisp white shirt make her seem professional yet youthful. It’d be cute if he didn’t want to ruin her career. Howard has risen from his chair to greet y/n, an almost sympathetic look on his wrinkled face, “Miss y/l/n, thank you for joining us.” “Of course, Mr Benson, what can I do for you?”

Ethan scoffs, “Don’t play dumb.” Both Grayson and Benson seem shocked by his behavior. Y/n wasn’t expecting anything less, “Excuse me, Mr Dolan?” “You’re a smart girl, don’t mess me about,” he’s leaning against the window, not feeling the need to move towards her in order to assert his dominance. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to elaborate, Mr Dolan,” y/n remains composed. “That article you wrote, it’s very hyperbolic.” “Mr Dolan, I don’t write fiction.” “You seem to have dabbled in it, y/l/n.” “I wrote about my impressions of you and your business-” “You made up a whole lotta shit-”

“Ethan,” Grayson warns, cocking a brow at his brother. Ethan shoots him a look telling him to keep his mouth shut. “Have you read this magazine before, Mr Dolan?” she asks, walking to the water machine beside Benson’s desk. “Of course I have,” he rolls his eyes. “Well then you’d know our motto,” she pours herself a glass of water and cradles it in her hands. Y/n watches as Ethan straightens himself into a standing position and holds the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I don’t see how your motto relates to this issue, Miss y/l/n.” “The Elegance Of Honesty Needs No Adornment,” she says as if it were a universally known fact. Howard Benson nods. Ethan sends him a glare. He stops nodding.

“You see, Mr Dolan as a journalist not only am I paid to be honest, it’s my duty to provide our readers with the integrity and honesty they deserve to be given.” “Again, this is not relevant.” “Mr Dolan, you lied to me during our interview, I couldn’t not write about that.” her tone is firm. “You have no right to include information beyond our interview in your article. I agreed to be featured on your cover as New York’s youngest businessman, not to be ridiculed,” Ethan looks at her with so much intensity it’s a wonder he doesn’t bore holes through her eyes. “I’m sorry that the truth angers you, Mr Dolan. Is there anything I can do for you?” “Don’t publish the article, y/n,” this is the first time she’s heard him say her name, it sounds alien in his accent, almost wrong. “Mr Dolan, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Ethan groans, “I’ll sue!” he exclaims, “I’ll take you to court for slander.” He expects her to respond, but y/n doesn’t flinch. She knows the truth. She knows what he’s like. Howard Benson begins to panic, he sends y/n a look of worry. LIFE Magazine cannot afford a court case, not one filed by Ethan Dolan. “Your integrity as a publication will be severely maimed, I’m sorry Howard. But Miss y/l/n has given me no choice.” Benson squeezes his eyes shut, deliberating what he should do. Y/n turns to watch him, praying he won’t give in to Dolan. “Y/n, I’m so sorry but...”

Grayson sighs in relief, Ethan’s smile is as wide as the horizon and Y/n’s eyes are the size of saucers. Never once has Howard undermined the magazine’s main principle. She’s outraged. “Mr Dolan, I apologize for the inconvenience,” Howard says begrudgingly. “Thank you, Howard. I always knew you were a good guy,” Ethan walks past y/n and extends a hand or Benson to shake. Y/n has never seen her boss look so defeated. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Miss Lewis,” Ethan smirks turning to look at her. She says nothing, staring at his attractive face and feeling sicker by the second. He pats her shoulder almost sympathetically and walks towards the door, Grayson following him.

Y/n waits for them to leave before she moves. She looks to Howard, “I’ll start writing a new piece,” she says. He opens his mouth to respond but he can’t seem to say anything. Y/n sighs and turns on her heels.

----

Ethan Dolan : The City’s Brightest

He can’t deny it sounds good. It looks good too, his face plastered on every newsstand, the entire city seeing his suited glory. His hair is swept in a mass of styled curls, his scruff makes him appear rugged but professional. He always does photograph well.

His inbox is full. Every one of his contacts desperately praising him for the brilliant article. Everybody fawning over his generosity and admirable need to give back to the community. He’s witty, considerate and intelligent. Y/l/n’s words couldn’t have painted him in a better light. Ethan almost likes her. Almost.

Ethan Dolan is undeniably attractive, in his looks and his mannerisms. He is nothing short of welcoming, polite and respectful. As he looks over Central Park with an animated smile, he seems young; in awe of this city and all it has to offer. He speaks of his family with a warm fondness that’s hard to find in many of his generation, his close ties to home echoing in his business today...

Ethan feels like he can breathe now. There’s nothing he can fault. He has no qualms, it’s perfect. He almost wants to reach out to her, maybe follow her on Instagram just to show his gratitude. Ethan would quite like to see her again, maybe talk to her a little more. He likes that she's so headstrong. He lays the magazine out on his desk and exhales in relief. His face stares back at him in black and white, the headline blinding but brilliant.

Grayson walks into their shared office, a small spring in his step. He hands Ethan the coffee he'd asked Carol, their assistant to go and get from downstairs. Ethan thanks him. "It's a great article bro," Grayson chuckles as he flops into his leather swivel chair and spins himself around, "that y/n can write." "Yeah, I know," Ethan nods, sipping his now lukewarm drink. "I googled how many readers LIFE gets," Grayson continues, logging into his computer on the desk that's opposite Ethan's. "Really?" "Yep! Take a wild guess of how many New Yorkers now think you're the 'Brightest'," "I dunno, like a million?" Grayson snorts, "4 mil, bro! Plus another like 20 million online!"

Ethan's eyes widen. This is insane, incredible even. The business will be booming in the next few days, he's sure of it. The Dolan Twins will be on the guest list for every event the city has to offer. He can see TV interviews, more magazine articles, the paparazzi swarming around the double doors of Dolan & Dolan HQ. Ethan can picture summer in the Hamptons with all of their clients, polo games and champagne. 24 million. "Thank God they never published the first draft," he laughs to himself, setting his coffee down on the desk and picking up the magazine. "I never got to read it," Grayson shrugs, "what was so bad about it anyway?"

Suddenly Ethan's chest feels tight. His hands are now clammy and his head starts to pound. He's broken into a cold sweat and suddenly his suit feels about three sizes too small. Y/n y/l/n knows. She knows everything. This young woman with 24 million readers knows all about Dolan & Dolan. She probably still has that first article lurking in a folder on her goddamn laptop. Ethan feels sick. There's no way he can let that get out. He'll die before that article gets published.

His head snaps up to look at Grayson, "Get LIFE on the phone. I need to speak to my new best friend."

-------

I should be studying but instead I wrote this! Big shoutout to @babyboydxlan for the pic. Hope you guys liked this! I kinda wanna make it a series, but let me know your thoughts! Lots and lots and lots of love!! xxx

[thelightofthebane]

I feel what you feel (and my heart got equally broken)

Summary: Alec snorted, too exhausted for fear. Of course. He really played himself. Asmodeus wouldn’t leave now, not when he had his claws in such a rich source of pain as Alec, not until he drained that source entirely dry. “You don’t care about Magnus’ wellbeing. You just want more pain, more fuel.”

Asmodeus’ crooked smile was all the confirmation Alec needed. “Poor child of Raziel. So naïve. This is only the beginning.” He closed the distance between them, crouching by Alec and leaning in close. “You know,” he said, “I received something very interesting along with Magnus’ powers. I think it’s only fair that I share it with you.”

Or, A bigger and more dangerous deal is made.

Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e18 The Beast Within, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel, A different deal, Asmodeus is the worst, self-sacrificing idiots

It was my first time attending the Malec Secret Santa, and I’m very satisfied with the result! This story is a gift to @mirrorofliterature, and was beta-ed by @silver-latin-and-salt. I hope you all enjoy! 

The original post is here.

You can also read here: ao3

“Mama!”

Alec blinked as the child ran past him, into the arms of a young woman with a warm, beautiful, and eerily familiar smile.

Alec watched, trying to place the woman’s resemblance, as she took the boy onto her lap and embraced him. She began to sing, the unfamiliar language spinning a lullaby.

Whatever the words meant, they only made the kid smile wider, beaming happiness.

Another blink, and the woman now lay bleeding on the bed, a dagger blossoming from her stomach. The boy gave a desperate scream, answered only by the furious shouts of a portly man who burst into the bedroom seconds later.

Realization settled over Alec as the boy turned on the man and hit him with an all-consuming ball of fire.

Magnus.

~*~

“I’ll restore both. His magic and his immortality.” Asmodeus smiled, his golden eyes flickering dangerously, and Alec had the unsettling feeling of being eyed as prey. ”However, there is a price for each. Despite how intertwined the two usually are, it is possible to have magic and not be immortal. Or, to be condemned to an eternity as a useless mundane. So, what do you choose, Nephilim?”

Alec willed his blank mask of an expression not to waver. A selfish part of him couldn’t help but wonder if Magnus would be okay with his magic alone, sacrificing only his immortality. Just for a moment, he dared to imagine it – a life with Magnus at his side, one where they could grow old together. No more fights about that damn box. No more fear of the pain Alec knew he’d leave behind when Magnus outlived him.

But even in the face of that temptation, Alec knew better. Fifty, sixty, seventy years were more than enough for a mortal like Alec, but for an immortal to be reduced to that… It wasn’t only the lack of magic tormenting Magnus, driving him to frenetic desperation and last night’s breakdown. Magnus didn’t want to grow old. He wanted to stay.

And who was Alec to deny him that?

“Both,” Alec said with a fearless fire in his eyes, although his insides couldn’t be colder. “What’s your price?”

“End your relationship.”

Alec blinked, taking several seconds to process that. “What?”

“You are the source of all his suffering. You make him vulnerable, weak. You are a disgrace to Magnus. With you, he can never reach his full potential.” Asmodeus punctuated each ’you’, a hammer slamming into Alec’s defenses. “You are not enough for my son. You never will be.”

Alec felt his lips tremble. He knew that, but… “You’re wrong. We love each other.” His voice was quieter now. “I wouldn’t just abandon him.”

“Then I’m afraid you’re going to be the death of him.”

“Magnus will never agree to it.”

“Don’t give him a choice. In fact, Magnus can never know about our little arrangement, or else our deal is off. Break his heart to save his life.”

That sparked something, and Alec frowned. “I’m the one making a deal, here. I should be the only one paying the price. Magnus has already suffered enough.”

“You’re right; but as I said, it’ll be double the price if you want me to return his magic and his immortality. The end of your relationship is but half of what I require – your part in our bargain will cover the rest.”

“And what is it you want from me?”

“Your pain. Your heart so irreparably broken, that your soul will also shatter.” Asmodeus’ voice was cold, though not enough to hide the entirety of his amusement. ”Tell me, Nephilim… do you know what fuels Edom? What fuels any of the hellish realms? How my kind feast on your petty mortal feelings? Anger, envy, lust, jealousy – those are delicious appetizers, to be sure. But sadness? Sorrow? Misery? Ah, the main dish.” He breathed deeply, a self-satisfied smile on his face and cat-eyes taking on a cruel shine. “You, Lightwood, will make a sumptuous banquet.”

And Alec felt only numbness. He always knew that this would be a dangerous game to play – the moment he had decided to talk to Asmodeus, all the possible scenarios had begun to unravel in his mind. He was prepared for the worst.

After all, what could be worse than letting Magnus go?

“Deal.”

~*~

Alec watched as Magnus laughed, chasing after the mundane girl and sweeping her up off her feet, spinning her round until she practically squealed with delight. Magnus was recognizable now, his face sculpted into his familiar adult features, but he still looked so… young, so carefree. He and the young woman turned to face each other, and then they were kissing, and Alec had to close his eyes, unable to face what he’d lost.

When he opened them again, he was standing in a cemetery. Magnus was a few feet away, hand placed gently on a headstone, head bowed.

As he turned to leave, Alec caught sight of his face, and almost shuddered to see the heartbreak etched there.

~*~

What have I done?

Alec punched the alley wall for the fifth time, his skin breaking and blood dripping from his knuckles. He could hear ugly sobs, and it took him a good few seconds to realize that they were coming from him. Good, he thought. Drive the pain out. Out. Out.

He still felt his heart clenching and it was suffocating him.

He broke Magnus’ heart.

He broke his own heart.

He needed to get out.

Another sob. Stop. Stop. Please, someone make it stop.

“Magnus, I’m sorry.”

He cried hard, falling to his knees. Magnus’ pained expression seemed imprinted under his eyelids. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was his lover’s despair, all he could hear were his pleas. Fuck, he made Magnus beg. He wanted so much to go back and take Magnus in his arms, tell him that it was a mistake and that he didn’t care if Magnus still had that ‘spark’ or not. He loved Magnus for who he was, not what he had. Magic or not, immortal or not, he loved Magnus Bane for his heart.

A heart that Alec had destroyed.

“I fulfilled my part of our deal,” a voice echoed behind him. “Magnus has his magic and immortality back.”

“Fine. Go. What more do you want? I’ve already paid you,” Alec growled, feeling too weak to get up, but turning enough to glare at the Prince of Edom.

“You did,” Asmodeus nodded slowly, tilting his head a little as hard cat-eyes returned Alec’s glare, familiar but foreign. Asmodeus was incapable of the warmth and love in Magnus’ eyes, would always be a world away from that sort of kindness and beauty. “You broke Magnus’ heart. You hurt my boy. I cannot let that go unpunished.”

Alec snorted, too exhausted for fear. Of course. He really played himself. Asmodeus wouldn’t leave now, not when he had his claws in such a rich source of pain as Alec, not until he drained that source entirely dry. “You don’t care about Magnus’ wellbeing. You just want more pain, more fuel.”

Asmodeus’ crooked smile was all the confirmation Alec needed. “Poor child of Raziel. So naïve. This is only the beginning.” He closed the distance between them, crouching by Alec and leaning in close. “You know,” he said, “I received something very interesting along with Magnus’ powers. I think it’s only fair that I share it with you.”

And then he was grabbing at Alec’s face, his neck, holding him still as dark red magic swirled around him, filling his vision.

Darkness engulfed Alec’s mind. Asmodeus was already gone.

~*~

Magnus was attempting to play the charango, the same one that Alec had often seen lying around the loft, and failing miserably. A man beside him – Imasu, Magnus had called him – just laughed, stilling Magnus’ hands with a flirtatious smile. Magnus met his gaze, his eyes so full of love and devotion it almost hurt.

–

“Live with you?” Imasu shook his head, all the fondness gone. “Never. It was fun for a while, but you are too clingy. Too much for me. I'm tired now. Goodbye, Magnus.”

Imasu walked out, never looking back.

Never seeing the broken look on Magnus’ face.

~*~

Something felt… wrong.

Magnus wasn’t buying Asmodeus’ ‘paternal love’ as the sole reason that he was somehow able to enter this realm and offer Magnus his magic back. And as desperate as he’d been, as grateful as he was to feel his magic again, he would never trade his freedom. Going back to Edom with his father was a fate worse than death, and one that Magnus wasn’t nearly foolish enough to accept.

So as soon as he had his magic back, Magnus had fled. He was done making deals with the devil.

Now that he had his powers back, he could go anywhere. He didn’t have a home, a job or a lover anchoring him to New York. Perhaps it was about time to go away for good. He could try Rome, Venice or Bangkok. It didn’t matter. He just… needed to leave.

After wandering around the city for a while, lost in thought, he stopped by Pandemonium – empty at this time of the day – and decided to take one last look around the establishment. When he took it on, it had quickly become his pride and joy, but now it had been some time since he was last inside. He’d hired one of his most reliable Warlock friends to manage it, because he hadn’t had the time whilst he was dealing with the Shadowhunters’ mess.

He wanted to regret that, but… he couldn’t.

Just as he turned to leave, he received a fire message from Jace.

Do you know where Alec is? His phone is dead, and he’s not answering fire messages.

I can feel that something’s wrong.

Magnus scoffed. Why should he know where Alec was, now? The Shadowhunter had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with Magnus anymore.

He opened a portal, ready to leave, to go somewhere – anywhere – far away; but something prickled at the edge of his mind, and he paused, frowning.

Just days ago, Alec was desperate to not let him go, saying he couldn’t live without him.

Then, he broke up with him.

And then, mere hours later, Asmodeus suddenly appeared and gave his magic back, claiming it was out of love. A pathetic excuse.

…Though not the only pathetic excuse Magnus had heard recently.

I have this meeting I can’t miss. Clave business.

Oh.

Oh.

“Damn it. If you did what I think you did, I’ll kill you, Alexander.”

~*~

Etta was beautiful, and Magnus was clearly head over heels for her. They danced together every night, talked about stars and dreams, about magic and music. She was another Mundane, but she had the Sight and accepted Magnus’ heritage. She loved and desired him.

He looked at her like his heart had finally found a home.

–

The arguments started because it became clear that even with all his magic, Magnus could never give Etta what she most wanted.

A baby.

She didn’t want to adopt, and didn’t want to spend a childless, finite lifetime with someone who was frozen in time. Desperate, he offered her immortality by his side. They’d find a way.

She refused.

Eventually, she left.

Again, Magnus was too much.

(And all Alec wanted was to hold him, to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t true.)

~*~

Magnus portalled directly into the Ops Center, where Jace was pacing anxiously. He didn’t notice Magnus until he was practically right in front of him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“There you are. Izzy is forging a new Glorious to free Clary from Jonathan, and I need to go to her. Angels above know what that lunatic will make her do. But Alec isn’t here, and if I go to another unsanctioned mission, he will put me into ichor duty for one year.” Jace snorted, spinning his stele between his fingers.

Magnus rolled his eyes and let out a deep exhale, trying to find his last dregs of non-existent patience. “Much as it would seem that what the Head of this Institute does is no longer my concern, I do need to discuss something with him. Have you already tried tracking him?”

“Yeah, but it’s not working – that’s why I sent you that fire message.” Jace lifted one brow. “What’s going on? Did you two fight again?”

“It’s none of your business,” Magnus said curtly. “But I need to know something. Did Alexander have a meeting with some Clave envoy yesterday?”

“No, not as far as I know. He left soon after you did, then came back later so we could track down the Drevak demons. I don’t know where he went, but when he got back, he… he seemed off.”

“What do you mean?”

Jace eyed Magnus a little suspiciously. “Look, if you are angry at him and it’s not int—“

“Just tell me, Herondale.” Magnus snapped, impatient. For some reason, the uneasiness inside him only grew. He felt like he was running out of time, though what the deadline was he didn’t know.

Jace took a deep breath, fidgeting a little. “He… he said something strange. He asked me, if I had a chance to free Clary from Jonathan, but as a consequence couldn’t never see her again, would I take the chance? I said no, and I wanted to ask him more about it, but he seemed really tense and didn’t say anything else.”

Magnus closed his eyes. God, this was a nightmare.

“Asmodeus.” Magnus opened his eyes to see Isabelle walking towards them, a mixture of distress and frustration written across her features. “I see your magic is back.” She pointed with her chin at the red sparkles mindlessly floating around Magnus’ fingers. He hadn’t even noticed. “I promised him to not tell anyone, but I guess you figured it out?” Magnus nodded. “Good. It’s not my place to tell you the details, but since Alec has now disappeared…” She sighed, worry and fatigue making her look older than her years. “I’m worried.”

“He made a deal with Asmodeus, didn’t he?” Magnus asked, already knowing the answer, but dreading it anyway.

“He what?” Jace almost shouted, but Izzy only sighed again.

“He did. Asmodeus promised to give your magic back if Alec broke up with you. He mentioned that there was a little more to it, but he wouldn’t tell me that part.”

“Wait, he broke up with Magnus? After trying to propose at that failed dinner?”

“What?” Magnus’ jaw dropped and Izzy elbowed Jace, shushing him.

Alec was going to propose?

Magnus’ magic flared, but he rapidly took control of it. He was so angry. Angry with himself. Angry with Asmodeus. Angry with the world. But mostly, angry with Alexander for being a self-sacrificing idiot.

Magnus took a deep breath – going around in these circles, getting angry and revealing things, wasn’t going to help. He forced a false mask of calm over his demeanour, but didn’t try to hide his dangerous smile. “Alright. You two focus on Clary. It seems I have some business to attend to.” He waved a hand dismissively, turning halfway on his heels and opening a portal.

“What about Alec?”

“Oh, rest assured, I’m going to find that parabaidiot of yours.” Magnus’ cheerful tone did little to hide the ominous undertone. “But first, I have something to take care of.”

He had a Greater Demon to banish.

~*~

The war was at its peak. In a place of such desolation, it was wildly unlikely that a romance would blossom, and yet here they were.

Magnus was talking to a man Alec recognized immediately from the photograph in Magnus’ box. George. A brave soldier. Magnus was clearly smitten.

But of course, as always, Magnus wasn’t the first option for anyone. George chose the war. He hugged Magnus goodbye and left.

Abandoned again.

People had a tendency to walk away from him.

Alec hated the resemblance.

~*~

“Goodbye, father.”

Magnus closed the portal, a bittersweet echo in the air. He did it. He was finally free from his father’s claws.

He didn’t feel happy, though. Not because he had some kind of childish hope that his father could really love him, but because there was still a lingering feeling of darkness that kept sweetly whispering how monstrous he was. His mother killed herself because of him. He killed his stepfather. He sent his father to Limbo forever.

He didn’t deserve a family.

But… he had a new one, right? Catarina, Madzie and Raphael. Clary, Simon and the Lightwoods.

Alexander.

Magnus grabbed the omamori charm still hidden in his pocket. He hadn’t had the heart to throw it away, even when Alec had crushed his heart.

He was just about to go fetch something of Alexander’s to track him when another fire message arrived.

Alicante fell. Demons destroying everything. People are dying.

Magnus frowned. Okay, that was a problem, but… was it his problem? After everything the Clave had done, did they really expect his help?

Then his cellphone pinged. It was a message from Isabelle.

We found Alec. He’s in Alicante.

“…Fuck.”

Magnus opened another portal, because apparently, Alicante had just become his problem.

He sighed. He always knew that these damn Nephilim would be the death of him.

~*~

If Alec weren’t so exhausted, he would have screamed with frustration and pain. How many love stories had he seen? How many people had he witnessed breaking Magnus’ heart? He’d long since lost track, because it was already dozens – mundanes, warlocks, werewolves, vampires, seelie, djinn…

Somehow, he’d forgotten that the worst was yet to come, until she appeared.

Camille.

In the beginning, she was sweet. Caring. Offered everything that Magnus yearned for.

The poison is never bitter in small doses.

“Who will love you?”

“Poor little Warlock. So naïve.”

“You are insufferable, Magnus. Too much. Honestly, you’re lucky to have me – who else would take you?”

Alec wanted to throw up, watching how Camille manipulated Magnus, forcing his compliance when that wasn’t enough. She broke him in a way nobody deserved.

She put the last brick on Magnus’ well-crafted walls, and Alec watched his heart get locked away.

~*~

Another explosion of flames and ichor, and another demon dead. Alec hadn’t stopped since breaking free of the memories, getting back to the Institute just in time to hear about the fall of Alicante – and worse, that his siblings were there.

With barely a thought, he geared up, reaching for his bow and quiver.

Correction: Magnus’ bow and quiver. Perhaps the last thing from Magnus he would ever get.

He felt hollow, numb, soulless. How could he feel otherwise, when he had caused such pain to the most beautiful soul in existence?

He’d failed Magnus, just as he eventually failed everyone. Asmodeus was right. Magnus was better off without him.

But there was only one thing he could do now, and that was fight. One by one – or five by five – he shot demons down, his arrows flying fast and true even as a voice at the back of his mind whispered that it was useless. With the rift still open, more would just keep coming. Still, if he could buy time for his people to escape, he would do his damned best, even if it killed him.

He was a soldier above all else. Emotions would only distract him from that duty.

“Alexander?”

No.

That voice.

He slowly turned around, losing what little color he still had on his pale face.

“No. You can’t be here. You… You…” His voice broke, and he shook his head in denial.

“I can’t be anywhere else.” Magnus stepped closer, his voice and posture soft.

“No. You don’t understand. I… I’m terrible for you. I hurt you. I…” Alec’s voice broke again, even more painfully. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I get to decide that, and I say you are deserving. More than anyone, Alexander.” Magnus took another step, but Alec retreated, like a scared animal.

Unwanted tears blurred Alec’s vision for a moment, and as soon as he blinked them away, instinct took over – an Edomi demon was launching itself in Magnus’ direction, and Alec could see that Magnus was in completely the wrong position to defend himself.

Alec made his decision in a split-second, throwing himself over Magnus as a shield.

~*~

He didn’t want to see more. It was too much to bear.

And if he’d thought that Camille would be the most difficult to watch… oh, how wrong he was. Asmodeus had left the worst as a sort of ‘grand finale’.

Alec himself.

He watched himself turning Magnus away. Rejecting him with angry words. Lying, letting the Clave manipulate him once more.

He hurt Magnus so many times. He wasn’t better than any of his past lovers. Maybe he was the worst.

Because if Magnus thought he was too much, then Alec knew that he himself was not enough, could never be enough for Magnus.

He watched himself break up with Magnus, heard his own words again, heard Magnus’ pleas again. He saw the despair in his lover’s eyes, wracking his whole body.

He did that.

Alec finally screamed.

~*~

“No! No, no, no—” Magnus begged, and how Alec hated that familiar kind of agony tinting his voice, but he couldn’t do anything. The world faded for a while and he felt himself falling.

But the impact never came.

Instead, he was being held by the only pair of arms that really mattered. He tried to speak, but only blood came out of his mouth, choking him. The demon had torn a deep hole in his abdomen, the bleeding too severe for Magnus’ magic to heal – not on his own, not in this state.

“Stay with me, Alec. Come on. Stay with me.”

Those words again. Oh God, no.

“Sor…ry…” Alec whispered, tears and blood mixing together, liquid hopelessness trailing down his cool skin.

~*~

Alec opened his eyes to reality.

It wasn’t dark anymore, so he could only guess that he was gone for hours.

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe properly – but he also couldn’t stop crying. It was too much, witnessing in less than a day what Magnus had suffered over centuries.

How had he endured all that? How, despite everything, had he remained kind and generous, good and benevolent?

How… How could so many people have hurt him?

How could Alec have hurt him?

He howled, and Asmodeus was there to collect each drop of anguish, of pain, of heartbreak – he absorbed it all, smiling with cruel satisfaction, before disappearing again to Magnus’ loft. His son would be back from the Institute anytime now, and Asmodeus would be ready to take him to their rightful home.

~*~

“I know about the deal. And why you did what you did. It’s okay, I don’t—“ Magnus was still trying to infuse his healing magic into Alec’s wound, to no avail, when he saw that Alec’s eyes had closed. “Alec? Alexander!” Magnus tapped Alec’s cheek, desperately looking for a sign of consciousness.

Alec blinked slowly, dazed. He didn’t understand. Why was Magnus trying to save him?

“Don’t you… hate… me?”

“What-? Of course not. Alexander, I love you. I’d never, ever, hate you. Even though I’m angry that you made a deal with my father, I’d never hate you.”

“I…” Alec licked his chapped and dry lips, tasting the metallic tang of blood. “I only… wanted to… help you. ‘ake you hap-py. Your… magic-”

“I know, I know. Please, don’t talk anymore. We will have plenty of time after this to talk it out, I promise. Just… just rest, okay? Don’t go away. Stay here.”

“I love… you.” And this was his ultimate truth – even when he still felt his heart shattered, bleeding with the rest of his body. He needed to tell Magnus that, even if it were for the last time, even if he never opened his eyes again. “Lo…ve… ‘u…” He breathed, welcoming the darkness once more.

“I love you too, Alexander,” Magnus cradled Alec’s body as close as possible, doing his best to not break down. Alec was alive. He could feel his heartbeat. He couldn’t panic, or else he would lose Alec for good.

“Alec!”

Jace, Isabelle and Clary came running up to them.

They bore more bad news. Jonathan had destroyed the Morgenstern sword.

Alicante was doomed.

Glancing at Alexander, Magnus felt his heart clench even more, if that were possible. His Shadowhunter seemed as if he had given up the will to fight for his life. He forced more healing spell into the wound, turning over a plan in his mind.

“My father told me about a way to increase my power.”

“Enough to close the rift?” asked Clary.

“Potentially, yes. The strength I would need to pull it off can only come from one place.”

“Edom?” Izzy prompted. Magnus only nodded.

“You know, if you weren’t a 400-and-something-year-old Warlock, I’d kick your ass. Actually, I could still do that, except that my brother wouldn’t forgive me.”

Magnus turned to Izzy with wide eyes, dumbfounded. She looked like a woman at the end of her patience.

“You and Alec are ridiculous. Always making these stupid decisions for the sake of others, for the sake of the world, but never choosing yourselves. If you go to Edom, you know that you won’t be able to come back. Then my stupid brother will most likely raise another hell just to get you back. We have no demon blood, so we wouldn’t survive in Edom – which just means that Alec would do something even more stupid to get there, like… I don’t know, trying to turn into a Vampire? Something idiotic like that.”

Magnus’ jaw fell slightly, and for the first time in years, he was truly speechless.

“Magnus… Alec won’t make it without you. He is giving up.” Jace was palming his parabatai rune, clearly in pain. “Please. He’ll only stay if you stay.”

“You…” Magnus huffed, reluctantly amused. “You are all impossible.” Really, these Nephilim would be the death of him. “Okay. There is something else I could try.”

Something that could’ve helped before, if it wasn’t for Lorenzo’s threat.

Magnus pulled away from healing Alec, flicking his wrist and summoning a piece of paper and a pen. He wrote his message, creating another twenty copies with a wave of his hand, and sending them off. All of them flared immediately, flying off in different directions.

It was time to call in all his favors - this time, way out of Lorenzo’s jurisdiction.

~*~

It has been five months since the last time he was at Pandemonium during its ‘closed’ hours. That day, he had decided to leave New York – maybe for good. Now, he wanted nothing more to stay.

Thanks to the combined forces of eighteen warlocks, they’d had enough power to close the rift above Alicante. And the delight of having Shadowhunters owe a huge debt to the Warlock community? Well, it was a delicious bonus.

Catarina had focused on saving Alec’s life, while Magnus had led the spell needed to close the rift. Izzy, Clary, Jace, and other Shadowhunters ran interference, keeping the demons away from the Warlocks while they worked.

Some days later, the danger Jonathan imposed also met its end.

They could finally breathe and rest.

They took turns to get days off. First Izzy with Simon, then Jace and Clary – and finally, Magnus took Alec as far away as he could.

They had a very long (and very overdue) talk about everything – Magnus’ magic, his terrible coping mechanisms, Alec’s deal with Asmodeus, their relationship, communication.

There were a lot of tears. Hugs. Kisses. Reassurances.

Sex.

And if they stayed a bit longer away from New York, well – nobody dared to say anything.

Now, Magnus was at Pandemonium once more, reminiscing about everything that happened since that very first night, when Alec, Jace, Isabelle and Clary had stormed into his life.

Distracted as he was, he barely registered an arrow flying over his shoulder.

Immediately, he called upon his magic, ready to fight – but when he turned around, what he saw made his heart beat faster in an entirely different way, his magic flickering out again.

Alec was there, bow in hand, standing at the stairs leading to the upper floor.

Exactly like that night. Exactly like when he had killed that Circle member, and saved Magnus’ life.

Giving Magnus a crooked smile, Alec climbed down the stairs and put aside his bow.

“You know, it always made me happy that you were my ‘first’ everything. My first kiss, my first relationship, my first ‘I love you’, my first – er – sexual partner.” At that, an adorable pink colored Alec’s cheeks and neck. “I wasn’t yours, but that never worried me. Once, Jace told me that it only ‘counted’ when we have this kind of experience with the one we truly love. He says that it’s only when he had his first kiss with Clary that he felt whole.”

“Oh? I never took him for the romantic type.”

Alec shrugged, trying to not grin. He finally got closer to Magnus and kissed him sweetly, just a slow and lingering slide of lips.

“I asked you to come here today because this,” he gestured to the club, “is our first place. Where our lives got intertwined. So… there isn’t a better place to ask you for another first.”

He took a small velvet box from his jacket pocket and opened it, revealing the Lightwood ring. Licking his lips, he braced himself and looked at Magnus.

Really looked.

And it was intense enough for Magnus to drop his glamour, as the realization of what was about to happen crashed down on his mind. Big, warm, golden cat-eyes looked back at Alec, full of adoration.

“Magnus, will you give me the honor of being my first, my only love, for the time we get to share? Magnus Bane, will you marry me?”

And in all Magnus’ centuries, saying a simple, three-letter word had never seemed so peaceful, so easy.

“Yes.”

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*****

I feel what you feel (and my heart got equally broken)

“Mama!”

Alec blinked as the child ran past him, into the arms of a young woman with a warm, beautiful, and eerily familiar smile.

Alec watched, trying to place the woman’s resemblance, as she took the boy onto her lap and embraced him. She began to sing, the unfamiliar language spinning a lullaby.

Whatever the words meant, they only made the kid smile wider, beaming happiness.

Another blink, and the woman now lay bleeding on the bed, a dagger blossoming from her stomach. The boy gave a desperate scream, answered only by the furious shouts of a portly man who burst into the bedroom seconds later.

Realization settled over Alec as the boy turned on the man and hit him with an all-consuming ball of fire.

Magnus.

~*~

“I’ll restore both. His magic and his immortality.” Asmodeus smiled, his golden eyes flickering dangerously, and Alec had the unsettling feeling of being eyed as prey. ”However, there is a price for each. Despite how intertwined the two usually are, it is possible to have magic and not be immortal. Or, to be condemned to an eternity as a useless mundane. So, what do you choose, Nephilim?”

Alec willed his blank mask of an expression not to waver. A selfish part of him couldn’t help but wonder if Magnus would be okay with his magic alone, sacrificing only his immortality. Just for a moment, he dared to imagine it – a life with Magnus at his side, one where they could grow old together. No more fights about that damn box. No more fear of the pain Alec knew he’d leave behind when Magnus outlived him.

But even in the face of that temptation, Alec knew better. Fifty, sixty, seventy years were more than enough for a mortal like Alec, but for an immortal to be reduced to that… It wasn’t only the lack of magic tormenting Magnus, driving him to frenetic desperation and last night’s breakdown. Magnus didn’t want to grow old. He wanted to stay.

And who was Alec to deny him that?

“Both,” Alec said with a fearless fire in his eyes, although his insides couldn’t be colder. “What’s your price?”

“End your relationship.”

Alec blinked, taking several seconds to process that. “What?”

“You are the source of all his suffering. You make him vulnerable, weak. You are a disgrace to Magnus. With you, he can never reach his full potential.” Asmodeus punctuated each ’you’, a hammer slamming into Alec’s defenses. “You are not enough for my son. You never will be.”

Alec felt his lips tremble. He knew that, but… “You’re wrong. We love each other.” His voice was quieter now. “I wouldn’t just abandon him.”

“Then I’m afraid you’re going to be the death of him.”

“Magnus will never agree to it.”

“Don’t give him a choice. In fact, Magnus can never know about our little arrangement, or else our deal is off. Break his heart to save his life.”

That sparked something, and Alec frowned. “I’m the one making a deal, here. I should be the only one paying the price. Magnus has already suffered enough.”

“You’re right; but as I said, it’ll be double the price if you want me to return his magic and his immortality. The end of your relationship is but half of what I require – your part in our bargain will cover the rest.”

“And what is it you want from me?”

“Your pain. Your heart so irreparably broken, that your soul will also shatter.” Asmodeus’ voice was cold, though not enough to hide the entirety of his amusement. ”Tell me, Nephilim… do you know what fuels Edom? What fuels any of the hellish realms? How my kind feast on your petty mortal feelings? Anger, envy, lust, jealousy – those are delicious appetizers, to be sure. But sadness? Sorrow? Misery? Ah, the main dish.” He breathed deeply, a self-satisfied smile on his face and cat-eyes taking on a cruel shine. “You, Lightwood, will make a sumptuous banquet.”

And Alec felt only numbness. He always knew that this would be a dangerous game to play – the moment he had decided to talk to Asmodeus, all the possible scenarios had begun to unravel in his mind. He was prepared for the worst.

After all, what could be worse than letting Magnus go?

“Deal.”

~*~

Alec watched as Magnus laughed, chasing after the mundane girl and sweeping her up off her feet, spinning her round until she practically squealed with delight. Magnus was recognizable now, his face sculpted into his familiar adult features, but he still looked so… young, so carefree. He and the young woman turned to face each other, and then they were kissing, and Alec had to close his eyes, unable to face what he’d lost.

When he opened them again, he was standing in a cemetery. Magnus was a few feet away, hand placed gently on a headstone, head bowed.

As he turned to leave, Alec caught sight of his face, and almost shuddered to see the heartbreak etched there.

~*~

What have I done?

Alec punched the alley wall for the fifth time, his skin breaking and blood dripping from his knuckles. He could hear ugly sobs, and it took him a good few seconds to realize that they were coming from him. Good, he thought. Drive the pain out. Out. Out.

He still felt his heart clenching and it was suffocating him.

He broke Magnus’ heart.

He broke his own heart.

He needed to get out.

Another sob. Stop. Stop. Please, someone make it stop.

“Magnus, I’m sorry.”

He cried hard, falling to his knees. Magnus’ pained expression seemed imprinted under his eyelids. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was his lover’s despair, all he could hear were his pleas. Fuck, he made Magnus beg. He wanted so much to go back and take Magnus in his arms, tell him that it was a mistake and that he didn’t care if Magnus still had that ‘spark’ or not. He loved Magnus for who he was, not what he had. Magic or not, immortal or not, he loved Magnus Bane for his heart.

A heart that Alec had destroyed.

“I fulfilled my part of our deal,” a voice echoed behind him. “Magnus has his magic and immortality back.”

“Fine. Go. What more do you want? I’ve already paid you,” Alec growled, feeling too weak to get up, but turning enough to glare at the Prince of Edom.

“You did,” Asmodeus nodded slowly, tilting his head a little as hard cat-eyes returned Alec’s glare, familiar but foreign. Asmodeus was incapable of the warmth and love in Magnus’ eyes, would always be a world away from that sort of kindness and beauty. “You broke Magnus’ heart. You hurt my boy. I cannot let that go unpunished.”

Alec snorted, too exhausted for fear. Of course. He really played himself. Asmodeus wouldn’t leave now, not when he had his claws in such a rich source of pain as Alec, not until he drained that source entirely dry. “You don’t care about Magnus’ wellbeing. You just want more pain, more fuel.”

Asmodeus’ crooked smile was all the confirmation Alec needed. “Poor child of Raziel. So naïve. This is only the beginning.” He closed the distance between them, crouching by Alec and leaning in close. “You know,” he said, “I received something very interesting along with Magnus’ powers. I think it’s only fair that I share it with you.”

And then he was grabbing at Alec’s face, his neck, holding him still as dark red magic swirled around him, filling his vision.

Darkness engulfed Alec’s mind. Asmodeus was already gone.

~*~

Magnus was attempting to play the charango, the same one that Alec had often seen lying around the loft, and failing miserably. A man beside him – Imasu, Magnus had called him – just laughed, stilling Magnus’ hands with a flirtatious smile. Magnus met his gaze, his eyes so full of love and devotion it almost hurt.

–--

“Live with you?” Imasu shook his head, all the fondness gone. “Never. It was fun for a while, but you are too clingy. Too much for me. I'm tired now. Goodbye, Magnus.”

Imasu walked out, never looking back.

Never seeing the broken look on Magnus’ face.

~*~

Something felt… wrong.

Magnus wasn’t buying Asmodeus’ ‘paternal love’ as the sole reason that he was somehow able to enter this realm and offer Magnus his magic back. And as desperate as he’d been, as grateful as he was to feel his magic again, he would never trade his freedom. Going back to Edom with his father was a fate worse than death, and one that Magnus wasn’t nearly foolish enough to accept.

So as soon as he had his magic back, Magnus had fled. He was done making deals with the devil.

Now that he had his powers back, he could go anywhere. He didn’t have a home, a job or a lover anchoring him to New York. Perhaps it was about time to go away for good. He could try Rome, Venice or Bangkok. It didn’t matter. He just… needed to leave.

After wandering around the city for a while, lost in thought, he stopped by Pandemonium – empty at this time of the day – and decided to take one last look around the establishment. When he took it on, it had quickly become his pride and joy, but now it had been some time since he was last inside. He’d hired one of his most reliable Warlock friends to manage it, because he hadn’t had the time whilst he was dealing with the Shadowhunters’ mess.

He wanted to regret that, but… he couldn’t.

Just as he turned to leave, he received a fire message from Jace.

Do you know where Alec is? His phone is dead, and he’s not answering fire messages.

I can feel that something’s wrong.

Magnus scoffed. Why should he know where Alec was, now? The Shadowhunter had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with Magnus anymore.

He opened a portal, ready to leave, to go somewhere – anywhere – far away; but something prickled at the edge of his mind, and he paused, frowning.

Just days ago, Alec was desperate to not let him go, saying he couldn’t live without him.

Then, he broke up with him.

And then, mere hours later, Asmodeus suddenly appeared and gave his magic back, claiming it was out of love. A pathetic excuse.

…Though not the only pathetic excuse Magnus had heard recently.

I have this meeting I can’t miss. Clave business.

Oh.

Oh.

“Damn it. If you did what I think you did, I’ll kill you, Alexander.”

~*~

Etta was beautiful, and Magnus was clearly head over heels for her. They danced together every night, talked about stars and dreams, about magic and music. She was another Mundane, but she had the Sight and accepted Magnus’ heritage. She loved and desired him.

He looked at her like his heart had finally found a home.

–--

The arguments started because it became clear that even with all his magic, Magnus could never give Etta what she most wanted.

A baby.

She didn’t want to adopt, and didn’t want to spend a childless, finite lifetime with someone who was frozen in time. Desperate, he offered her immortality by his side. They’d find a way.

She refused.

Eventually, she left.

Again, Magnus was too much.

(And all Alec wanted was to hold him, to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t true.)

~*~

Magnus portalled directly into the Ops Center, where Jace was pacing anxiously. He didn’t notice Magnus until he was practically right in front of him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“There you are. Izzy is forging a new Glorious to free Clary from Jonathan, and I need to go to her. Angels above know what that lunatic will make her do. But Alec isn’t here, and if I go to another unsanctioned mission, he will put me into ichor duty for one year.” Jace snorted, spinning his stele between his fingers.

Magnus rolled his eyes and let out a deep exhale, trying to find his last dregs of non-existent patience. “Much as it would seem that what the Head of this Institute does is no longer my concern, I do need to discuss something with him. Have you already tried tracking him?”

“Yeah, but it’s not working – that’s why I sent you that fire message.” Jace lifted one brow. “What’s going on? Did you two fight again?”

“It’s none of your business,” Magnus said curtly. “But I need to know something. Did Alexander have a meeting with some Clave envoy yesterday?”

“No, not as far as I know. He left soon after you did, then came back later so we could track down the Drevak demons. I don’t know where he went, but when he got back, he… he seemed off.”

“What do you mean?”

Jace eyed Magnus a little suspiciously. “Look, if you are angry at him and it’s not int—“

“Just tell me, Herondale.” Magnus snapped, impatient. For some reason, the uneasiness inside him only grew. He felt like he was running out of time, though what the deadline was he didn’t know.

Jace took a deep breath, fidgeting a little. “He… he said something strange. He asked me, if I had a chance to free Clary from Jonathan, but as a consequence couldn’t never see her again, would I take the chance? I said no, and I wanted to ask him more about it, but he seemed really tense and didn’t say anything else.”

Magnus closed his eyes. God, this was a nightmare.

“Asmodeus.” Magnus opened his eyes to see Isabelle walking towards them, a mixture of distress and frustration written across her features. “I see your magic is back.” She pointed with her chin at the red sparkles mindlessly floating around Magnus’ fingers. He hadn’t even noticed. “I promised him to not tell anyone, but I guess you figured it out?” Magnus nodded. “Good. It’s not my place to tell you the details, but since Alec has now disappeared…” She sighed, worry and fatigue making her look older than her years. “I’m worried.”

“He made a deal with Asmodeus, didn’t he?” Magnus asked, already knowing the answer, but dreading it anyway.

“He what?” Jace almost shouted, but Izzy only sighed again.

“He did. Asmodeus promised to give your magic back if Alec broke up with you. He mentioned that there was a little more to it, but he wouldn’t tell me that part.”

“Wait, he broke up with Magnus? After trying to propose at that failed dinner?”

“What?” Magnus’ jaw dropped and Izzy elbowed Jace, shushing him.

Alec was going to propose?

Magnus’ magic flared, but he rapidly took control of it. He was so angry. Angry with himself. Angry with Asmodeus. Angry with the world. But mostly, angry with Alexander for being a self-sacrificing idiot.

Magnus took a deep breath – going around in these circles, getting angry and revealing things, wasn’t going to help. He forced a false mask of calm over his demeanour, but didn’t try to hide his dangerous smile. “Alright. You two focus on Clary. It seems I have some business to attend to.” He waved a hand dismissively, turning halfway on his heels and opening a portal.

“What about Alec?”

“Oh, rest assured, I’m going to find that parabaidiot of yours.” Magnus’ cheerful tone did little to hide the ominous undertone. “But first, I have something to take care of.”

He had a Greater Demon to banish.

~*~

The war was at its peak. In a place of such desolation, it was wildly unlikely that a romance would blossom, and yet here they were.

Magnus was talking to a man Alec recognized immediately from the photograph in Magnus’ box. George. A brave soldier. Magnus was clearly smitten.

But of course, as always, Magnus wasn’t the first option for anyone. George chose the war. He hugged Magnus goodbye and left.

Abandoned again.

People had a tendency to walk away from him.

Alec hated the resemblance.

~*~

“Goodbye, father.”

Magnus closed the portal, a bittersweet echo in the air. He did it. He was finally free from his father’s claws.

He didn’t feel happy, though. Not because he had some kind of childish hope that his father could really love him, but because there was still a lingering feeling of darkness that kept sweetly whispering how monstrous he was. His mother killed herself because of him. He killed his stepfather. He sent his father to Limbo forever.

He didn’t deserve a family.

But… he had a new one, right? Catarina, Madzie and Raphael. Clary, Simon and the Lightwoods.

Alexander.

Magnus grabbed the omamori charm still hidden in his pocket. He hadn’t had the heart to throw it away, even when Alec had crushed his heart.

He was just about to go fetch something of Alexander’s to track him when another fire message arrived.

Alicante fell. Demons destroying everything. People are dying.

Magnus frowned. Okay, that was a problem, but… was it his problem? After everything the Clave had done, did they really expect his help?

Then his cellphone pinged. It was a message from Isabelle.

We found Alec. He’s in Alicante.

“…Fuck.”

Magnus opened another portal, because apparently, Alicante had just become his problem.

He sighed. He always knew that these damn Nephilim would be the death of him.

~*~

If Alec weren’t so exhausted, he would have screamed with frustration and pain. How many love stories had he seen? How many people had he witnessed breaking Magnus’ heart? He’d long since lost track, because it was already dozens – mundanes, warlocks, werewolves, vampires, seelie, djinn…

Somehow, he’d forgotten that the worst was yet to come, until she appeared.

Camille.

In the beginning, she was sweet. Caring. Offered everything that Magnus yearned for.

The poison is never bitter in small doses.

“Who will love you?”

“Poor little Warlock. So naïve.”

“You are insufferable, Magnus. Too much. Honestly, you’re lucky to have me – who else would take you?”

Alec wanted to throw up, watching how Camille manipulated Magnus, forcing his compliance when that wasn’t enough. She broke him in a way nobody deserved.

She put the last brick on Magnus’ well-crafted walls, and Alec watched his heart get locked away.

~*~

Another explosion of flames and ichor, and another demon dead. Alec hadn’t stopped since breaking free of the memories, getting back to the Institute just in time to hear about the fall of Alicante – and worse, that his siblings were there.

With barely a thought, he geared up, reaching for his bow and quiver.

Correction: Magnus’ bow and quiver. Perhaps the last thing from Magnus he would ever get.

He felt hollow, numb, soulless. How could he feel otherwise, when he had caused such pain to the most beautiful soul in existence?

He’d failed Magnus, just as he eventually failed everyone. Asmodeus was right. Magnus was better off without him.

But there was only one thing he could do now, and that was fight. One by one – or five by five – he shot demons down, his arrows flying fast and true even as a voice at the back of his mind whispered that it was useless. With the rift still open, more would just keep coming. Still, if he could buy time for his people to escape, he would do his damned best, even if it killed him.

He was a soldier above all else. Emotions would only distract him from that duty.

“Alexander?”

No.

That voice.

He slowly turned around, losing what little color he still had on his pale face.

“No. You can’t be here. You… You…” His voice broke, and he shook his head in denial.

“I can’t be anywhere else.” Magnus stepped closer, his voice and posture soft.

“No. You don’t understand. I… I’m terrible for you. I hurt you. I…” Alec’s voice broke again, even more painfully. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I get to decide that, and I say you are deserving. More than anyone, Alexander.” Magnus took another step, but Alec retreated, like a scared animal.

Unwanted tears blurred Alec’s vision for a moment, and as soon as he blinked them away, instinct took over – an Edomi demon was launching itself in Magnus’ direction, and Alec could see that Magnus was in completely the wrong position to defend himself.

Alec made his decision in a split-second, throwing himself over Magnus as a shield.

~*~

He didn’t want to see more. It was too much to bear.

And if he’d thought that Camille would be the most difficult to watch… oh, how wrong he was. Asmodeus had left the worst as a sort of ‘grand finale’.

Alec himself.

He watched himself turning Magnus away. Rejecting him with angry words. Lying, letting the Clave manipulate him once more.

He hurt Magnus so many times. He wasn’t better than any of his past lovers. Maybe he was the worst.

Because if Magnus thought he was too much, then Alec knew that he himself was not enough, could never be enough for Magnus.

He watched himself break up with Magnus, heard his own words again, heard Magnus’ pleas again. He saw the despair in his lover’s eyes, wracking his whole body.

He did that.

Alec finally screamed.

~*~

“No! No, no, no—” Magnus begged, and how Alec hated that familiar kind of agony tinting his voice, but he couldn’t do anything. The world faded for a while and he felt himself falling.

But the impact never came.

Instead, he was being held by the only pair of arms that really mattered. He tried to speak, but only blood came out of his mouth, choking him. The demon had torn a deep hole in his abdomen, the bleeding too severe for Magnus’ magic to heal – not on his own, not in this state.

“Stay with me, Alec. Come on. Stay with me.”

Those words again. Oh God, no.

“Sor…ry…” Alec whispered, tears and blood mixing together, liquid hopelessness trailing down his cool skin.

~*~

Alec opened his eyes to reality.

It wasn’t dark anymore, so he could only guess that he was gone for hours.

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe properly – but he also couldn’t stop crying. It was too much, witnessing in less than a day what Magnus had suffered over centuries.

How had he endured all that? How, despite everything, had he remained kind and generous, good and benevolent?

How… How could so many people have hurt him?

How could Alec have hurt him?

He howled, and Asmodeus was there to collect each drop of anguish, of pain, of heartbreak – he absorbed it all, smiling with cruel satisfaction, before disappearing again to Magnus’ loft. His son would be back from the Institute anytime now, and Asmodeus would be ready to take him to their rightful home.

~*~

“I know about the deal. And why you did what you did. It’s okay, I don’t—“ Magnus was still trying to infuse his healing magic into Alec’s wound, to no avail, when he saw that Alec’s eyes had closed. “Alec? Alexander!” Magnus tapped Alec’s cheek, desperately looking for a sign of consciousness.

Alec blinked slowly, dazed. He didn’t understand. Why was Magnus trying to save him?

“Don’t you… hate… me?”

“What-? Of course not. Alexander, I love you. I’d never, ever, hate you. Even though I’m angry that you made a deal with my father, I’d never hate you.”

“I…” Alec licked his chapped and dry lips, tasting the metallic tang of blood. “I only… wanted to… help you. ‘ake you hap-py. Your… magic-”

“I know, I know. Please, don’t talk anymore. We will have plenty of time after this to talk it out, I promise. Just… just rest, okay? Don’t go away. Stay here.”

“I love… you.” And this was his ultimate truth – even when he still felt his heart shattered, bleeding with the rest of his body. He needed to tell Magnus that, even if it were for the last time, even if he never opened his eyes again. “Lo…ve… ‘u…” He breathed, welcoming the darkness once more.

“I love you too, Alexander,” Magnus cradled Alec’s body as close as possible, doing his best to not break down. Alec was alive. He could feel his heartbeat. He couldn’t panic, or else he would lose Alec for good.

“Alec!”

Jace, Isabelle and Clary came running up to them.

They bore more bad news. Jonathan had destroyed the Morgenstern sword.

Alicante was doomed.

Glancing at Alexander, Magnus felt his heart clench even more, if that were possible. His Shadowhunter seemed as if he had given up the will to fight for his life. He forced more healing spell into the wound, turning over a plan in his mind.

“My father told me about a way to increase my power.”

“Enough to close the rift?” asked Clary.

“Potentially, yes. The strength I would need to pull it off can only come from one place.”

“Edom?” Izzy prompted. Magnus only nodded.

“You know, if you weren’t a 400-and-something-year-old Warlock, I’d kick your ass. Actually, I could still do that, except that my brother wouldn’t forgive me.”

Magnus turned to Izzy with wide eyes, dumbfounded. She looked like a woman at the end of her patience.

“You and Alec are ridiculous. Always making these stupid decisions for the sake of others, for the sake of the world, but never choosing yourselves. If you go to Edom, you know that you won’t be able to come back. Then my stupid brother will most likely raise another hell just to get you back. We have no demon blood, so we wouldn’t survive in Edom – which just means that Alec would do something even more stupid to get there, like… I don’t know, trying to turn into a Vampire? Something idiotic like that.”

Magnus’ jaw fell slightly, and for the first time in years, he was truly speechless.

“Magnus… Alec won’t make it without you. He is giving up.” Jace was palming his parabatai rune, clearly in pain. “Please. He’ll only stay if you stay.”

“You…” Magnus huffed, reluctantly amused. “You are all impossible.” Really, these Nephilim would be the death of him. “Okay. There is something else I could try.”

Something that could’ve helped before, if it wasn’t for Lorenzo’s threat.

Magnus pulled away from healing Alec, flicking his wrist and summoning a piece of paper and a pen. He wrote his message, creating another twenty copies with a wave of his hand, and sending them off. All of them flared immediately, flying off in different directions.

It was time to call in all his favors - this time, way out of Lorenzo’s jurisdiction.

~*~

It has been five months since the last time he was at Pandemonium during its ‘closed’ hours. That day, he had decided to leave New York – maybe for good. Now, he wanted nothing more to stay.

Thanks to the combined forces of eighteen warlocks, they’d had enough power to close the rift above Alicante. And the delight of having Shadowhunters owe a huge debt to the Warlock community? Well, it was a delicious bonus.

Catarina had focused on saving Alec’s life, while Magnus had led the spell needed to close the rift. Izzy, Clary, Jace, and other Shadowhunters ran interference, keeping the demons away from the Warlocks while they worked.

Some days later, the danger Jonathan imposed also met its end.

They could finally breathe and rest.

They took turns to get days off. First Izzy with Simon, then Jace and Clary – and finally, Magnus took Alec as far away as he could.

They had a very long (and very overdue) talk about everything – Magnus’ magic, his terrible coping mechanisms, Alec’s deal with Asmodeus, their relationship, communication.

There were a lot of tears. Hugs. Kisses. Reassurances.

Sex.

And if they stayed a bit longer away from New York, well – nobody dared to say anything.

Now, Magnus was at Pandemonium once more, reminiscing about everything that happened since that very first night, when Alec, Jace, Isabelle and Clary had stormed into his life.

Distracted as he was, he barely registered an arrow flying over his shoulder.

Immediately, he called upon his magic, ready to fight – but when he turned around, what he saw made his heart beat faster in an entirely different way, his magic flickering out again.

Alec was there, bow in hand, standing at the stairs leading to the upper floor.

Exactly like that night. Exactly like when he had killed that Circle member, and saved Magnus’ life.

Giving Magnus a crooked smile, Alec climbed down the stairs and put aside his bow.

“You know, it always made me happy that you were my ‘first’ everything. My first kiss, my first relationship, my first ‘I love you’, my first – er – sexual partner.” At that, an adorable pink colored Alec’s cheeks and neck. “I wasn’t yours, but that never worried me. Once, Jace told me that it only ‘counted’ when we have this kind of experience with the one we truly love. He says that it’s only when he had his first kiss with Clary that he felt whole.”

“Oh? I never took him for the romantic type.”

Alec shrugged, trying to not grin. He finally got closer to Magnus and kissed him sweetly, just a slow and lingering slide of lips.

“I asked you to come here today because this,” he gestured to the club, “is our first place. Where our lives got intertwined. So… there isn’t a better place to ask you for another first.”

He took a small velvet box from his jacket pocket and opened it, revealing the Lightwood ring. Licking his lips, he braced himself and looked at Magnus.

Really looked.

And it was intense enough for Magnus to drop his glamour, as the realization of what was about to happen crashed down on his mind. Big, warm, golden cat-eyes looked back at Alec, full of adoration.

“Magnus, will you give me the honor of being my first, my only love, for the time we get to share? Magnus Bane, will you marry me?”

And in all Magnus’ centuries, saying a simple, three-letter word had never seemed so peaceful, so easy.

“Yes.”

[queermediastudies]

Milk - It’s not just for cereal anymore.

Milk, is a biographical film based on the life of Harvey Milk, who was the first openly gay San Francisco politician, who was gunned down by a disgruntled city supervisor. This film was also not just about the life of Harvey Milk, it was also a film that depicted the time frame in which he lived in, the 1970’s, a time where men and women came together to fight the injustice and inequality that was being levied against the population of the city of San Francisco, and across the United States of America. The film follows the last few years of Supervisor Milk’s life, starting on his 40th birthday and follows him to his 48th birthday, as well as following his endeavor to incite change and provide for not only the LGBTQ community, but for everyone (seniors, minority, kids, and heterosexuals). Milk is the story of leaving a mark on society, and helping cause change that would affect the lives of the people around you.

The film originally started to gain traction when Oliver Stone showed interesting producing the film, in early 1991 (Gus Van Sant); however, after signing a director in 1992, the film production fell on hard times in 1993 and was not revisited until 2007, when Van Sant wanted revisit the biopic. Before filming, Harvey Milk’s life was heavily researched, and many one of the sources used to recreate the life of Supervisor Milk was the GLBT Historical Society in San Francisco, his personal belongings, as well as speaking with people who knew the City Supervisor. With several weeks of photographs, researching film, video, historic textiles and other resources ( The Times of Harvey Milk, a documentary that was released in 1984, directed by Rob Epstein, was a huge resource) Milk started filming until January 2008, after a second project, helmed by Brian Singer, met its demise due to a writer strike.

Milk provided a look into the life of the first openly gay city supervisor in San Francisco, however the cast was made up of primarily of a heterosexual cast. At the time, this was seen to be common place for Hollywood, however as the times are changing there is the potential for blow back of having a heterosexual actor portraying an openly gay politician. Was the issue of representation at the time? Or was it as Dr. Martin states “cisgender heterosexuals are “brave” in taking on roles different from themselves” (Martin, 2018)?

While the main plot point of Milk was that of equal rights for gays and lesbians, the production company responsible strayed from the belief that City Supervisor Milk strived for. Was the film more successful or successful because of the actors that were picked to portray their on-screen versions of their real-life counter parts? While the performances that were delivered in a manner that would be considered believable, if not true to the real man that the film was based off, were there not other actors capable of giving authentic performances as well. This topic is something that has just, in the last decade or so started coming to light, the casting of heterosexual actors/actresses. This has been a hot topic as there has not be fair representation of the LGBTQ community on television or film, but there is change coming, this change is due, and slow to come.  With equality balancing slowly for the LGBTQ community, more and more actors/actresses have been accepted in larger and larger films, they are no longer bottom of the barrel actors/actresses in mediocre movies, or low budget straight to DVD movies.

While watching the film, I also had noticed that there were minorities being represented in the film as well, but once again they were being represented by cisgendered heterosexual males. This did not bode well for LGBTQ community members who are a minority. While there was minority representation in the film, again the bigger roles were filled by the heterosexual actors, and unfortunately there was no way for me to ascertain if any of the smaller actors (extras) were of the LGBTQ community. However, as progress is being made with equality for those of LGBTQ community, the biggest being that members of the of the LGBTQ community are being included, nay, not included but being placed in positions on where they have the ability to put real life back into art. More importantly, they are putting themselves, their culture, on to the screen. In away they are educating masses, they are providing information on what was one considered to be a taboo, disgusting life style. As Milk took a chance to show us life back in the 1970s for members of the LGBTQ community had to face, but as mentioned before, progress has been made. Take for example, the show Pose, has been taking strides and advances to create equality at one level. “But there is something transgressive about what Pose is doing” (Fallon, 2018), they are placing trans actors in main roles, they are placing them in the writing rooms; Ryan Murphy, creator of show, chose a cast of actors and actresses who are breaking ground and creating a foothold in territory controlled by the heteronormativity. Murphy placed Janet Mock, the first openly trans woman of color, not just in the writing room for Pose, but also behind the camera allowing her to direct an episode of the popular show.

Now, as the bard say, here in lies the rub; the creation of shows and film that cast LGBTQ members, placing them in staring rolls, are great educational tools that don’t require the violence that has been exposed in the past. The history, the hate, the animosity that the people have faced is something that cannot be erased; more importantly it is something that can be untaught, but it will take time and patience. As the Stonewall riots brought a physical stand, the line that drawn in the sand so to speak, about equality rights; shows like Pose are just a new face on a prolonged battle equality.  In the third chapter of Stonewall and Beyond, it was brought to our, no my attention that there were shows in the past that were attempting to make the same head way as Pose, “the success of the 1972 TV movie That Certain Summer drew the attention of activists because of the potential it demonstrated for television to reach national audiences” (Gross,2002,p.43). This allowed for more people to become aware of the issues that men and women of the LGBTQ community were facing, I say this in the sense that it opened the eyes of millions to the fact that there were people hiding their true selves from the rest of the world, because of fear and persecution.

Watching Milk unfold on the screen in front of me has opened my eyes about a lot of things, and being a person who has seen themselves as a neutral party for my those of my friends who are of the LGBTQ community, I find myself trying to find a reason as to why people need to be afraid of difference. I am a minority, a member of the heterosexual norm, so to speak, of a near complete college education. I find that to me; it is neither my sexuality or my skin color that influences my engagement on this topic. It is, the education that I experienced in the real world. I have friends, I have served with men and women, who are members of the LGBTQ community; and it is from those men and women that I have learned my lessons. As a friend to these men and women, equality is starting to play a big factor into my understanding on how society runs and how we a species, are so willing to draw a line in the sand and shun people are on the other side of that line. Critically, looking at the movie, I am some what dismayed that Milk did not take the time to break more barriers at the time. Opening the door on a politically charged topic like equal rights, would have been a great platform on which one could have chosen actors who were of the LGBTQ community to be the cast of characters, creating a stronger foothold for which to spread the word of equality. Despite that, Milk was a great film, the story telling was complied with real new reel footage that was shot during the time of Harvey Milk’s rise and untimely fall, added more of a personal touch to the film, as well as having an actor who bore a similar resemblance to the late Harvey Milk. In the end, consuming Milk opened my eyes to one thing that has been, until recently, and that is “writers seem to continue you balk at the idea that queer characters of color are deserving of dynamic and standalone narratives” (Leiva, 2017). The research and writing that went into developing this film did not leave out any of the characteristics of Jack, portraited by Diego Luna, as Milk’s second lover in the film, who suffered from serious depression, alcoholism and suicidal thoughts. While, Sean Penn delivered an award-winning performance, and being able to humanize the character so that people unfamiliar with the plight of the LGBTQ community and the on-going battle for equality had a better connection to the story and struggle.

   Jr, A. L. M. (2018, August 2). Pose(r): Ryan Murphy, Trans and Queer of Color Labor, and the Politics of Representation. Retrieved from https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/poser-ryan-murphy-trans-queer-color-labor-politics-representation/.

Gross, L. P. (2002). Up from invisibility: lesbians, gay men, and the media in America. New York: Columbia University Press.

Fallon, K. (2018, June 1). 'Pose' Isn't Just Great TV. It's Making Trans History. Retrieved from https://www.thedailybeast.com/pose-isnt-just-great-tv-its-making-trans-history.

Leiva, L. (2017) TV Is Getting More Progressive, But It's Still Failing Queer People Of Color. (n.d.). Retrieved from https://www.bustle.com/p/tv-is-getting-more-progressive-but-its-still-failing-queer-people-of-color-64520.

[buckyswinterchildren]

With All My Body

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: A story about how Bucky falls over and over again for you, from the very first time he meets you, with all his senses.

Words: 4k

Warning: smut (well, it is not actual smut, just a slight few paragraphs about it.)

A/N: For you to know, when I wrote about the orchestra I didn´t have in mind the typical orchestras we all know, but the one that works with Hans Zimmer. (If you don´t know who he is, I really recommend you go and check his videos. He makes music for well-known movies and the songs are wonderful.) So, yeah, I have that image of an orchestra in mind.

(Credits to the owner of the gif.)

The night is covering the city and the powerful lights of buildings and of propaganda signs dominate the sight.

As everybody knows, the city of New York does not sleep and today is not the exception. If one stands in the middle of a street, any crowded street, he is going to hear music coming from bars, horns and brakes of cars and busses, the voices of the thousands of people passing by his side. The continuous vivid noise of the city is an essential factor for considering New York "not for everyone."

However, in one of the theaters of the American state, the environment is peaceful, calm. Only whispers among the audience can be heard.

With his ear as trained as the rest of his body and with the help of the serum, Bucky can hear most of the whispers without having to do any effort at all.

His seat is on the second file of the theater, right in front of the fancy stage which has heavy red curtains hunging from the ceiling down to the floor with a huge screen on the back. The file is also occupied by some others well-known citizens: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff and the man who was born for being on the spotlight, Tony Stark.

One of the most respectable orchestras of  New York is now playing a series of concerts in the city after returning from a two-month tour in Europe around the most refined theaters of the old continent.

Being Tony Stark "friend" of half of the city, of course he knows the director of the orchestra. Therefore, after receiving a call from the director himself inviting him and the rest of the Avengers to the concert, Tony could not say no and Steve, Bucky, Sam and Natasha could not avoid not coming.

The warm lights of the theater are now gone and the only area which continues illuminated is the stage where two huge grades for the musicians are standing  and a shiny dark brown piano in the middle of both grades can be seen.

A wave of applauses arises as the musicians appear one behind the other as they position themselves on the grades. The applauses do not cease when the last musician is on his place since the director appears and raises his hands to wave the auditorium. Then, he sits in front of the piano as he looks at the rest of the musicians, making sure they are ready to begin.

The stage lights only illuminate the director. He puts his hands above the keys of the piano, like caressing them with an extreme delicacy before starting playing with them the first chords of the song. The beautiful and delicate sound that comes from the piano is enough to move the audience.

After a few seconds, the bass accompanies the piano and immediately after, the cello starts playing, becoming, together with the piano, the main instruments of the song.

That is the reason why the light above you starts illuminating only you, one of the cellists of the orchestra. You are standing, together with two other violinists, on the left side of the stage.

In the meantime, Bucky has been paying attention to the piano. It brings him back memories of his time in the first decades of the twentieth century. He could not avoid thinking about the occasions in which he used to go to bars and on the small stages, there always was a man playing his piano.

Bucky realizes that the melancholy that has arised in him is even stronger when he hears the cello. Still, he cannot move his eyes from the piano and so, from the memories of his older self, of the James Barnes who did not know what true pain was.

The sound is beautiful, he thinks. How is it possible that the sound of strings can cause him to find feelings and evoke memories that he had buried down in his mind?

Bucky closes his eyes and lets his ears be the channel for the melody to fill his body that has already provoke so much on him. Those piano keys that are being played and the cello, oh, that powerful cello that makes him wanna cry. How can an instrument produce so much things in Bucky? How is it possible he starts playing in his mind moments of his life just by the waves of sound travelling on the air? Bucky stops asking himself all those questions and only enjoys the sounds that have drown him.

For a moment, he lets himself get lost in the music he is hearing and go to wherever his mind wants to take him.

When he opens his eyes, the other light of the stage, the one above you, is the one that calls Bucky´s attention. His eyes leave the piano and now, they are on you.

And they remain on you the rest of the night.

He hasn´t heard you talk yet, but the way you play the cello is enough for him to fall in love with the sounds you emit. He can hear you speaking through your cello and for Bucky, it is enough.

Bucky is not sure if it is the light and the shadows that seem to play in your face that make you misterious, or if it is because of the way your body moves as you play the instrument... He does not know why but he cannot take his eyes off you because he finds you fascinating, seductive, outstanding, enigmatic.

He looks at your hair and how it falls from one side to the other as you slowly move your head at the sounds you are creating and that are filling the theater. Just the movement of your body makes it possible to perceive that these sounds  travel from your ears to your veins. He looks at your hand holding the bow and moving it from left to right. He looks at your left hand, the one on the neck of the cello and he sees how you make that technical move as if it were shaking so as to  make the strings vibrate and create that special effect on the strings.

Bucky stares at you as a painter stares at the canvas in which he just finished painting the piece of art that, in his opinion, is the best he has ever done. He stares at you as a astronomer stares through the microscope the universe and its infinites galaxies. Bucky stares at you with admiration, intrigue, fascination.

His eyes look for you even when the lights are gone from the stage. He tries to make his eyes get used to the temporary darkness so as to distinguish your form behind your cello.

Bucky does not even know your name yet but you have already enchanted his ears and his eyes.

The next time Bucky sees you is at Tony Stark´s wedding, nine months after he saw you for the very first time at the theater.

The extasis and excitement he felt when he saw you for the first time lasted days and weeks. The idea of you as a mistery is what kept that extasis not to vanish for quite a long time.

He was sure that maybe he could google you just by writing “orchestra of New York” in the searching bar. Just maybe, your picture would appear together with your name. However, not only did Bicky find it creepy, but also, he still has some old manners. Being a man from the 40´s, he still considers that the best way to get to know someone is when you are face to face, not when you google their names and get information about them while the other person knows nothing about you.

So, for him, you are just that, an enigma. And just like any other enigma, he wants to know more about you, to discover something, anything about you.

It is a shock when he sees you standing there, making delicate movements with your hands while playing the songs you were asked by the bride, Pepper Potts.

------

Bucky leans on one of the two doors that faces the green surroundings of the party room. From where he is, he can appreciate what seems a never-ending field of grass, a huge tree on his left and a wide path made of stone  —not comfortable at all for those wearing heals.

He sighs and closes his eyes for a moment, feeling the air that blows directly on his face. He can hear the rattle of heels from behind him and then, right next to him. He opens his eyes and he sees you walking by his side.

His breath stops for a second when he realizes it is you and, with guts that seem to come from the old Bucky Barnes  — the flirtatious and outspoken Bucky of the last century, he says all of a sudden and without thinking his words:  “Good show.”

““Good show”? Really, that´s the very first thing I have to say?” he thinks, wanting to punch himself.

You turn your head to look behind you as you hear a voice but you are not sure if the person is actually talking to you. When you see that the man is in fact looking at you, you reply: “Why, thanks!”

Bucky can finally hear your voice, but he will think about the pitch and the tone of your voice later on, when he is back in the tower, because right now, his mind is focused on actually talking to you.

“I saw you,” Bucky clears his throat and continues, “I saw you some time ago playing in here at  David Geffen Hall. You were really good. You all were really good,” he rapidly corrects himself.

“Thanks again.” You are now facing him.

“I really like that you have incorporated electric guitars and basses to your orchestra. I´ve never seen that before.”

“Yeah, it´s innovating. They make our sound pretty unique and —“

“Y/N!” A voice from inside the party room interrupts you.

“Tony, what happened?” you ask as you see him approaching. The truth is, if it were for you, you would call him “Mr. Stark” but the times he went to your rehearsals with Pepper, he made clear he wanted you all to call him Tony. “Mr. Stark sounds as if I were your boss, or if I had seventy years old, so forget about it,” he told you.

“They have already warned me about you. Come on, join the party.”

“I can´t. I really can´t. It´s not professional to stay in here.”

“Come on, you are a guest to the wedding too. Staying the night, eating and drinking after your performance is not going to make you any less professional. There are other people of the orchestra in there,” Tony says as he points out to the inside of the room.

“I —”

“It´s not weird for any of us to see the musicians who just played walking and eating around the room. Is it?” Tony asks Bucky, who has been listening to your conversation but with his eyes stuck exclusively on you.

“No, it´s not,” Bucky rapidly answers back.

You look at Tony and sigh. You know that even though it goes against your rules, and the rules you´ve been taught when you were a teenager when rehearsing, that you cannot win a conversation to Tony Stark. So you just say: “Ok, I stay.”

“Great to hear that, Y/N!” Tony claps his hands twice. “I see that you already met Barnes. I´ll leave you with him while I go back to entertain my guests.” And just like he appears, Tony leaves both of you in an instant.

“I guess I´m going back inside, then. Are you staying here or are you going there to dance?” You ask Bucky as you start walking towards the crowd.

“To tell you the truth, I´m not much of a dancer.”

“Don´t worry, me neither. That´s why I dedicate my life to play an instrument and not to actually dance. I can stay here with you, if that´s fine for you.”

“Sure, I don´t mind your company.” Of course he doesn´t.

You end up sitting in the stair of the door where you´ve been talking, almost invisible for the rest of the guests who are dancing and singing out loud the pop songs the DJ plays.

Bucky finds out that you are actually a person easy to talk to. Of course you do not talk much about your personal lives, being still strangers with each other. But it is not a boring conversation and the few inevitable silences that arise are not uncomfortable at all; you always find a way to fill them and surprisingly, so does Bucky.

Having you so near him, Bucky realizes that you are as beautiful as when he saw you on stage. Of course the lights many times tend to create certain “illusions” on people, but for him, you look as he saw you for the very first time.

This time, however, what awakes one of his senses, his nose to be precised, is your perfume. He can smell it every time you move your hair to your right as you talk, and every time you make that movement, your aroma goes directly to his nose.

Just as he did when he listened to the piano and cello being played, he closes his eyes to let your aroma fill him and appreciate it as much as he can. Because, it seems, when you have your eyes closed, your other senses become more intense.

The next time Bucky gets to know you through his senses is when his lips are on yours.

You have agreed on meeting at a café, not too far away from David Geffen Hall, where you are rehearsing, and nearby the Tower too.

After Tony´s wedding, you two have kept in touch  —and for Bucky´s surprise, it was Tony who helped him and made easier for Bucky to keep in contact with you.

When you arrive and open the front door of the café, you can see that Bucky is already at a table, checking his phone.

“Hey, Bucky,” you tell him as he raises his head and a smile appears on his face. You take off your coat and your scarf and hang them behind your chair before taking a sit. “I´m sorry, coming here took me longer than expected.”

“Don´t worry, I´m glad you actually come,” he answers as his eyes spark of actual happinness for your presence.

You don´t say anything outloud, but you take notice of what he just said. “I´m glad you actually come”? Poor Bucky, you think, because you are sure that behind that phrase are hidden the times in which he was stood up.

And you are right.

“Where´s your instrument?”

“Oh, you were expecting me to break the peaceful atmosphere of this café by carring the cello, weren´t you?” You joke as you tuck your hair behind your ear. “We can keep them in there, those of us who have these huge instruments.” You try to change the subject and actually focus on him. “How have you been? How was your day?”

They are just simple, common questions but Bucky doesn´t remember being asked any of them. He appreciates your interest towards him, considering he has always thought of himself as someone who is not worth anybody´s time or interest.

Two hours. Two hours at the table of a small café surrounded by people walking by your side, entering and leaving the place... but none of you seem to notice any of them. To qualified the date as pleasant and comfortable is not enough.

“Do you have anything to do now?” you ask Bucky as you leave the café and put the red scarf around your neck.

“Not at all —“

“Do you want to, I don´t know, just walk? You interrupt him. “I´m having a great time with you.”

The feeling on his chest when he hears you say those final words can only be compared to the feeling of his lips on yours.

You end up standing in one of the thousand of corners of Central Park.

“Thank you for today and thank you for waiting for me at the café. I know you were there much more earlier than I.”

“How do you —?”

“The cup of coffee that was on the table when I arrived was empty and when I took it to accomodate what we order, it was cold.”

Bucky chuckles. “Thank you for coming.”

“I wouldn´t have missed it. I know we just met by I wouldn´t have missed the chance of seeing you again.”

Words have the power to heal, hurt, please, comfort, scare, destroy, create... Right now, your words are healing, comforting, hugging Bucky. He wasn´t expecting in a million years to hear those words directed to him. He wasn´t expecting words with a positive connotation to be said to him.

Without thinking it twice and leaving now behind all the nervousness and fear he had, he tucks your hair behind your ear and his hand remains on your ckeek. Bucky looks at you and your eyes confirm him that you can feel everything but horror and disgust of being here with him, especially with someone like him.

Bucky leans forward and you end up closing the gap between both of you. Your lips collide and what he is feeling inside when he touches your lips with his is indescribable.

The tender of your lips, the delicacy with which you kiss him as if he were so delicate you may break him... Just one kiss and you make him feel alive for the second time in his long, long life.

They tend to say that when you kiss someone, you feel like melting. On the contrary, the mere sensation of your lips crashing with his makes Bucky feel elevated, as if he were in another dimension.

As he is still kissing you, Bucky thinks that he wants to kiss you again and again; he wants to feel your lips every single time it is possible. Your mouth has suddenly become the source for Bucky to keep feeling alive, wanted, loved, real.

Bucky cannot believe it all started over a year ago, when he assisted to the recital your orchestra was playing. The truth is, he went because he wanted to appreciate how the orchestras of nowadays sound like.

During the 40´s, he remembers he got lost in the records he listened to. He wanted to connect to his past, to his old self, in some way, by listening again the music he used to listen to.

What he didn´t expect was to find you. However, at the beginning, it all turned out to be a platonic love, exactly as the crushes people have almost everyday of their lives at the subway, the bus, on the street with people they know most probably won´t cross paths with again.

However, he didn´t expect to find you at Tony´s wedding. Bucky did not know until the moment he saw you standing there, at the stage of the huge room, that you were playing for the wedding.

Bucky was not aware that he was going to find love and to rediscover this part of himself he one considered death, gone. It is not that he wasn´t his intention to find someone and fall in love with her, but he didn´t expect his mind and the chemicals within his mind could segregate the love he feels with so much intensity. He was sure that, after a life of suffering and living under a totally hopeless darkness, the only sensation he could feel with all his body was hatred and resentment.

But life has showed him that, as long as he is and feels alive, he would still find himself with emotions that make his heart pump of excitment and profound happiness.

And right now, Bucky feels more alive that ever. Right now, Bucky is feeling you with all his senses.

His hands on your body, more precisely on the curves of your naked body. His nerve endings of his right hand and the special, artificial nerves created specifically for his left are make it possible for him to feel your skin and he trace it as it he were appreciating velvet.

The delicacy of his touch can be compared to the delicacy with which you play the strings of your cello, careful enough not to break any of them.

Not only his hands, but the feeling of your legs around his waist while he thrusts into you takes him into a state of ectasy that is hard to compare to any other sensation.

Bucky kisses your parted lips and you open them even more to welcome his. You then find his tongue in your mouth and you crash it with yours instantly. The exquisite and exciting sensation of your tongue caressing his is beyond words.

The feeling of your pulse when he kisses your neck; the smell of your perfume, that characteristic delicate aroma in your neck and wrists that Bucky loves so much.

Hearing you moan, saying his name outloud like a prayer, and all those sounds that come from your throat are one of the best sounds he has ever heard. If you stole his heart the moment he listened to you playing the cello for the very first time, then hearing you produce all these more intimate sounds feel like a warm bullet that has just exploded into a million pieces in his chest.

Seeing you with your eyes close, your lips partly open trying to breath and get back all the air your lungs have missed because of the kisses and the moans, the veins of your throat when you involuntarily tilt your head back because of the pleasure your whole body is feeling.

However, what makes Bucky fall apart is hearing you say “I love you. I lo- love you so much, Buck,” as you try to control the pitch and the clearness of your voice as he thrusts into you.

“I love you too, doll.” “You make me feel alive,” is what he intends to say but his lungs does not have enough air to release any other sound and his vocal chords seem not to respond to his brain, they are static.

Not in a million years would Bucky have imagined that it is possible to fall over and over again for you, when all his senses are involved.

Bucky loves you when he hears you playing your cello, when he hears you singing any song stuck in your mind, when he hears you saying his name.

He loves you when he smells your perfume everytime he kisses your neck and when he leans his head in yours and he perceives the aroma of your shampoo.

Bucky loves you with every cell of his body when he sees you playing your cello at the stage, when he sees your body moving at the rhythm of music and you completely disarm him every time you look at him while you´re performing, or when you open your eyes after you come undone, or when you just turn your head and look at him over your shoulder with a smile on your face.

He loves you when he can feel you with his lips, when he kisses every inch of your body or when his tongue tastes the sweetness of your perfume on your throat every time he licks it.

And Bucky loves you because you are real and he can reaffirm it every time he touches you, when you hold hands, when he just feels the tender touch of your hands in his hair, your arms around his neck when he needs you the most.

Bucky loves you with all his body and he knows you love him with yours too because you have shown it to him since the very first time you kissed.

[dassala]

Trapped

A Captain Swan Canon Divergence Fic - Rated M

--

After they find themselves stuck in the Enchanted Forest of the Past, Emma and Killian embark on a journey to find their way home - wherever (and whenever) home may be.

--

Season 3, Episode 22 - We begin in the last few minutes of the episode...

Chapter One

“How’s the portal coming? Can you open it?”

Emma and Hook stormed into the main hall of the Dark One’s castle, the all-familiar look of hope blooming behind Emma’s green eyes. Their journey was almost complete. Per Rumple’s instructions, they had put the past back to rights with only the tiny exception of releasing a prisoner from Regina’s dungeon. As they prepared to return to Storybrooke, the woman expressed profuse gratitude and fled back to her home and family. Finally standing in front of the Dark One himself, they were waiting anxiously to be sent back to the future.

“I cannot,” Rumplestiltskin admitted, pouring something of a sulfurous odor into the bowl before him.

Emma’s brow furrowed as her nose turned up at the smell. She stared down for a moment into the obviously magical brew in front of the impish man. “Well, then what are you working on?” She felt Hook’s posture shift beside her.

Rumplestiltskin stirred the contents of the bowl together with a smirk. The concoction took on a bluish glow. “Oh, this is for me. A forgetting potion.” He raised his golden gaze to the pair before him. “I know too much about my future. The only way to protect it is to forget it.”

Emma’s jaw dropped a minute amount as she clenched her fists with anxiety. Hook took a step closer to her, his hand finding its way to the hilt of his sword. She glanced back down at the table and gestured to a black, twisted rod laid next to the potion. “Well, what about this wand? You said that could help us.”

“Oh that,” Rumple smirked, “Well apparently, only those who used the portal can reopen it.”

Glancing back to Hook, Emma watched his frown deepen.

“So unless you can wield magic, I’m afraid you’re going nowhere.” The smaller man grasped the wand in his gold-flecked hand. He chuckled and tossed it to Emma. “Can you?”

She caught the wand and looked down at it. Before Zelena had managed to remove her magic, she might have felt a pulsing, tingling rush from an object of such power. Now, it was no more than a twig in her hands.

“Thought not,” Rumple smirked.

Hook stepped up, his body language tense. The look upon his face was murderous.

“So you just expect us to stay here?” the pirate growled, his fingers twitching upon the hilt of his sword. “What about protecting your precious future?”

Rumple lifted his hands, his fingers fluttering with excitement. The Rumplestiltskin of the past was much more gesticulative than the Mr. Gold she’d come to know in Storybrooke. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

There was the sharp, unmistakable sound of a sword leaving its scabbard as Hook lifted his blade and pointed it directly at the giggling creature before them. “He means to kill us, Swan!”

“No!” Rumple grinned, revealing a set of grotesque teeth between sparkling lips. “I mean to put you someplace safe -- somewhere far from here. And should you return to tell me of my future again, all memories of your lives before now shall vanish completely.” He gave a flick of his wrist.

“Rumple━!” Emma’s protest was cut short as she and her pirate companion vanished in a cloud of purplish smoke.

There was a hum of magic in the air for a fleeting second as the smoke dissipated. Emma found herself in a clearing, surrounded by the large trees typical of the Enchanted Forest. Hook was still behind her, his sword having vanished. He cursed under his breath.

“Bloody crocodile.”

She glanced down at the wand, still in her hands. Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “We're stuck.”

“You've still got the wand,” Hook observed. He gestured to her hands. “All you've got to do, love, is get the wretched thing working.”

“How?! You know what Zelena did to me.”

“Aye, and now she's dead. Her curses should have broken. You just don’t want your magic.”

Emma's gaze narrowed. “You think I'm faking this?”

Pursing his lips, Hook shifted his weight from one hip to the other. “I think that without magic, you'd find it quite easy to fold back into your life in New York. You don't want to admit it's still a part of you.”

“Hook, I want to go home more than anything!” Tears were welling in her eyes as she gripped the wand with more fervor.

The pirate's eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Home? New York?”

“Storybrooke. Henry was right. You were right. I need to stop running. Seeing my Mom die was…” she paused and swallowed back a sob. “I wanted her back so bad.”

His gaze softening, Hook looked from Emma to the wand in her hand. “I'm rather glad to hear that, Swan, but until we get your magic back up to snuff…”

Emma nodded and sighed. She glanced around them. “I don't even know where to start.”

“I've an idea or two,” Hook scratched behind his ear.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“A pint wouldn't go amiss,” he rocked on his feet.

Emma gave an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

“Unless you have a better plan, love? It's been a hell of a couple of days. A tavern would also be the right kind of place to turn for a hot meal and a place to stay for the night,” his voice was more stern than she anticipated. He adjusted his rucksack, raising his eyebrows in her direction.

Biting her lower lip, Emma replied with a sheepish nod. She regretted the bit of sass she’d thrown at him in judgment. He would know better about the best places to go when lost, hungry, and tired.

“C'mon,” he gestured toward the main road, which was visible a few yards away, through the trees.

The pair walked in silence for a long while before either spoke.

“Don't suppose you have money to pay for any of this, do you?”

Hook smirked and gave a simple nod. “A pirate is always prepared.”

They passed a few people first, then a handful of peasants with horses and carts. As they neared a small village, Emma's stomach growled. She still wore her prison rags, her hair down around her shoulders. A few men in town gave her lingering looks as she passed. She tried her best to ignore them, choosing instead to focus on saving what integrity remained of her thin, flat leather shoes.

“In here,” Hook muttered, gesturing down an alley. There was an open door to the right, from which a solid warmth and a distinctive smell emanated.

Pulling her hood over her hair, Emma entered the tavern. A rickety sign above gave the place the name of ‘The Horn and Drum’. A rather frightening looking man was tending the bar. He pulled a tray full of pints before sliding it over to a bar wench whose top was leaving very little to the imagination. She was pretty enough, but when she flashed a smile at Hook, Emma spied a rather unkempt set of teeth.

“Oi, two pints please,” Hook demanded, patting the bar top with his palm. “And two plates of whatever you've got on the fire in the kitchens.”

The barkeep, with a red, ulcerated face and a bulbous nose, leaned in their general direction. “Pretty lass you've with you. She working?”

Emma wasn't sure what insulted her more: the fact that he had implied she was a prostitute, or that he wouldn't ask her directly. Her gaze narrowed but she kept her head low.

“You want to watch the way you speak of a man's wife?” His voice landed loud and hard on the word “wife,” and beneath her hood, Emma’s eyes widened.

“Pardon,” the man laughed, which turned into a dry cough, “just ain't used to her kinda looks ‘round here. Lucky man, you are.”

Hook pressed two gold coins onto the bar and slid them toward the man. “I know I am.” Emma felt a blush creeping into her cheeks. The barkeep's compliments were easy to brush off, but to hear Hook say he'd be a lucky man if she were his wife, well, that was something a shade more personal.

“We've been traveling and we're tired. Give me a room, our meals, and our pints. And then we'll be off.”

The gold coins must have been a large sum. The man scrambled to collect them and snapped his fingers at the bar wench they'd encountered on their way into the tavern.

“Louise, take this man and his wife up to our best room. Feed and water ‘em.”

The young woman gave Hook a disappointed look and gestured to the stairs. “Up there, sir.”

Emma followed the young woman per Hook's direction. He walked behind her, as if to fend off an attack from the rear. She took in the sight of the shabby dwelling and heard the girl whisper to the Captain.

“And should ye get bored with ‘er, I'll be workin’ late tonight.”

“Make sure the food's hot,” Hook snapped in annoyance before closing the door. He sighed as he gave Emma an apologetic look. “Sorry, it's…”

“Just the way things are, got it.” She rubbed her hands together for warmth and turned to face the fireplace.

She heard him release a heavy sigh. He glanced around the room and took a look out the lone, dirty window. “Think we'll be fine here. Doubt the Queen has much business in these parts. We're quite a way from where we left your parents.”

Her hands a bit warmer, Emma turned and took a better look around the room. There was a small table with two chairs, a mirror with a pitcher and basin, and one bed with threadbare blankets and a straw-stuffed mattress. When she looked away from the bed, she found Hook removing his jacket with care. He gestured to a thin rug on the floor beside the bed.

“When it becomes less necessary to keep up appearances, Swan, I’ll be sleeping here. You should have the bed.”

She opened her mouth to protest. Hook's brows knit together as he frowned in her direction.

“Bad form to let a lass sleep on the floor,” he explained with a wave of his false hand.

“Thank you,” she muttered, “but you don't have to lay on the chivalry just because we've taken a major leap backwards in women’s rights. We’ll take turns. Next stop, you can have the bed… for however long we’re stuck here.”

“No need,” he shook his head in dismissal, “it’ll be like old times. I used to sleep on the deck of Silver’s ship in my wasted youth.”

A knock on the door signaled the arrival of their dinner. A different servant girl entered the room and placed a tray on the small table, then hurried about to light the candles on the wall sconces and nightstands. The poor thing was frightfully thin, with dull, deep brown hair plaited down her back. She couldn't have been more than twelve years old. The maternal instincts Emma had discovered since finding Henry caused a knot to tighten in her stomach. The girl kept her eyes to the floor as she gave a small curtsey before leaving.

“No child labor laws here, huh?”

Hook frowned as he took a seat at the table. “She's lucky to have employment at all. Many children find themselves begging for coins on the side of the road.”

With a huff of fruitless irritation, Emma moved to the table and glanced down into two steaming bowls of... something. She turned up her nose at the sight of the mystery meat swimming in a broth the color of mud.

“I’d get used to the local fare, love, or else you won’t have the energy to travel,” Hook smirked. He took a seat and dug into the meager meal. He thought as he chewed a spoonful, then nodded. “Mm, nothing exotic. Mutton. Overcooked, but you’ll have that.”

Finally feeling the warmth from the fire, Emma loosened her cloak and took a seat, pushing back her cloak to hang over the back of her chair. She picked up the wooden spoon and fished out a vegetable resembling a carrot. Taking a tentative bite, she was pleasantly surprised at the flavor and found her hunger awakened. Overcooked mutton be damned; she was going to eat every bite of her meal.

“After I finish, I’ll go downstairs and inquire after the Black Fairy. See if anyone has passed through with knowledge of how to summon her,” Hook spoke, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a tattered cloth napkin that had seen better days. He lifted his ale and tipped the pewter mug a bit in Emma’s direction. “Here’s to finding our way home.”

Emma lifted her own mug in reply and tapped it against the pirate’s. She gave a small, hopeful smile. “To getting home.”

--

Hook embarked downstairs to make his inquiries, leaving Emma alone in the room. She sat upon the lumpy bed, drawing in a breath of unfamiliar air. Between the crickets chirping outside, the crackling of the fireplace, and a dull murmur of voices through the floorboards, she found her eyes getting heavy. She fluffed up the pillow to the best of her ability before lying down. Moonlight was visible through the shoddy rafters. If it rained, she would most certainly get wet.

It seemed as if she was on the verge of drifting off when Hook entered the room. She turned her head and rubbed at her eye with the heel of her palm.

“My apologies, Swan,” he muttered, his voice soft. “Please, don’t let me disturb you.”

Emma sat up and cleared her throat, shaking her head. She ran a hand through her hair before extending her arms to the side in a stretch. “No, it’s okay. Did you learn anything down there?”

“Unfortunately not,” he replied, shedding his coat and taking a seat once more in his chair. “Just a fair bit of ire thrown my way for asking about fairies at all. It appears we’re in one of the less magically-inclined villages of the Enchanted Forest.”

“With an Evil Queen that uses magic against people, I’m not surprised,” Emma sighed and looked at her shoes. She slipped them off, placing them at the side of the bed. “I suppose we should get some rest, then.”

“Aye, seems a good idea,” he stood and grabbed his jacket, balling it up into a makeshift pillow. He carefully sat on the floor beside the bed and leaned back, crossing his booted feet one over the other. “Sleep well, Swan.”

“Goodnight, Hook.”

“Killian will do, you know.” He spoke from the floor, eyes closed. A smirk was on his lips.

“Goodnight, Killian,” Emma replied, and despite the guilt she felt in taking the more comfortable sleeping accommodations, she could hardly extend an invite for him to share the bed with her. Knowing the man was enamored with her made the entire situation a bit more fragile. She adjusted the long gray gown she wore from Regina’s prison in an attempt to maintain her modesty and laid back to get some rest.

Despite her exhaustion, it seemed that rest was not to be had. Emma jumped at the sound of the door being thrown open in the next room, her eyes snapping wide open. Only then did she realize that the walls between the rooms were paper-thin. The next sounds were definitely the stuff of nightmares. She forced her eyes closed as a girl giggled and ran about the room. The door slammed shut behind a heavy-footed man, who growled low in his throat as he stomped across the floor. With a squeal, the girl’s giggles melted into moans.

As if it wasn’t already incredibly awkward to be sleeping next to a pirate who was obviously attracted to her, now they would be treated to the live action sounds of a late-night tryst. Emma swallowed hard as she did her best to think of other things, but the girl’s moans only increased in volume. It wasn’t long before a repetitious beat of a headboard slamming against the wall behind her filled her ears. The momentum even caused the room to vibrate in time with the neighboring boarders’ exertions.

Emma’s cheeks were hot with embarrassment. She opened her eyes again and stared at the ceiling, keeping her breath steady as possible. The fluttering of the candlelight with each of the booms against the wall merely punctuated the sound. There was no escaping the amorous encounter in the adjoining space. Graciously, the pounding didn’t last long, and the gentle, crackling fire again filled the room as their neighbors settled into silence.

With a shaky breath, Emma turned onto her side and closed her eyes, willing herself back to sleep. She heard Killian mutter beneath his breath as he shifted on the floor.

“Bloody racket... hardly worth the effort…”

[blancheludis]

A/N: @iron-man-bingo square: Power Swap

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Characters: Thor/Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, JARVIS Tags: Power Swap, Pre-Relationship, Wise Thor, H/C, Angst, Magic Words: 4.775

Summary: It would have been too easy if the spell only made Thor an expert on nuclear phsyics and Bruce able to swing Mjolnir. Instead, Thor is turning green, battling with the Hulk stuck in his body, and Bruce cannot touch anyone without shocking them with the electricity flying from his fingertips. Meanwhile, New York is living through the longest thunderstorm in recorded history. Nothing is ever simple where the Avengers are concerned. 

---

The full extent of the spell does not become immediately obvious, which is a small miracle, considering the instant panic that breaks out when the Hulk goes down with a roar in the blinding light, and Thor crashes to the ground like a marionette with his strings cut.

It all happens so suddenly that no one can tell exactly what happened. They did not even know the guy in the funny hat they were fighting could wield magic until he started attacking them with coloured lightning bolts from his hands and turned nearby stones and objects into animated suits of armour fighting for him. If magic were not one of Tony’s least favourite things in the world, the guy would have gotten bonus points for his imaginative attacks.

Even before the light from the magic explosion has faded, Tony directs a small grenade at the two animated suits of armour he is fighting and launches into the air to check on his friends. Possible danger aside, they just saw two of their strongest fighters go down. Two of their friends. He trusts the rest of the Avengers to take care of the battle so long.

“They’re alive but unconscious,” JARVIS tells him, scanning the debris before Tony has a visual on them.

Tony finds Thor first. Lying on the ground, he looks fragile despite his massive form. Despite JARVIS’ reassurance, he kneels down and, retracting the gauntlet on one hand, checks for a pulse. He finds it immediately, strong and steady, appearing almost angry in its intensity.

“Come on, buddy,” Tony mutters as he reaches out to shake Thor’s shoulders, “wake up.”

There is no reaction. On the first glance, there is no visible wound either. No blood, no broken bones, not even a dent in the armour.

Just unconscious, Tony thinks to himself as he studies the vitals JARVIS brings up helpfully in the HUD. That is certainly not good but nothing Tony can do anything about right now. Further answers have to wait until Thor wakes up.

“Keep an eye on him,” Tony says to JARVIS before he turns around and goes looking for the Hulk.

Anyone able to take down the Hulk is a more serious opponent than they first thought. After only a few steps, Tony finds something even more worrying than that.

In the rubble, unmoving and mostly naked, is Bruce instead of the Hulk. The Hulk has taken hits before that knocked him out shortly, but never has he transformed back into Bruce this suddenly. They really need to have someone more versed in magic than Tony to look Thor and Bruce over.

First, Tony repeats his procedure with Bruce, checking for a pulse and trying to wake him. He is not actually relieved to find Bruce in the same condition as Thor.

The air is filled with an almost palpable tension, like when Thor is furious, causing storm clouds to gather around the tower. Tony hopes that means Thor is regaining consciousness.

“They’re unconscious but according to JARVIS not in immediate danger,” Tony informs the rest of the team over the comms. “We need to wrap this up quickly.”

And, surprisingly, they do. It is almost as if the wizard has lost all interest in the fight once he managed to take out two of the Avenger with his big ball of light. He laughs and taunts them, but does not create any more guardians for himself, and when Clint and Tony double their efforts to take him down, he vanishes with a twirl of his cloak. The way he is cackling makes Tony believe that this is not the last they have seen of him.

For now, though, they have more important concerns. They need to get their teammates home and make sure they are all right.

 ---

Thor wakes up screaming. Something is terribly wrong with him. His skin feels like it belongs to someone else, like something is scratching at it from the inside. His mind, too, is so full all of a sudden that he can barely grasp a single thought.

He hears voices talking over each other, some of them familiar, but some seem to come from inside his head.

Before he has a chance to collect himself, his world erupts into green.

Bruce comes to in a hospital room. That in itself is such a familiar sight that he merely sighs long-sufferingly, wishing the Hulk would not control his life to such an amount that, even when he is withdrawing into Bruce’s skin, it leaves him exhausted to the point of passing out.

When he sits up, intent on getting back to his room to get some real sleep, he notices he is not connected to the heart monitor. Not even an IV line is sticking out of his arm. No matter how often he told the doctors here that all of that is unnecessary – ignoring the fact of the Hulk’s sheer existence, nothing is actually wrong with him that means he needs to be supervised – they always insist on the whole shebang.

It is strange that they would have refrained from doing so all of a sudden. He tries to think back to what happened, but all he remembers is the Avengers alarm going off and then just flashes and a sudden, blinding light. Then nothing.

Frowning, Bruce makes to get out of bed when he notices that the metal railing, even left down as they are, are wrapped with blankets. That, frankly, does not make any sense at all. Even if he was thrashing around, which sometimes happens after a transformation, he was in no danger of hurting himself with them.

A sudden noise has him looking up. Tony stands in the doorway, untypically reserved. Normally, he would have already come in and jumped onto Bruce’s bed, chattering either about the fight or some experiment he is working on. Tony Stark does not just hold back.

“How are you feeling?”

Bruce’s frown deepens. That, too, is strange. Tony cares a lot about all of them, but he is usually not this direct about it. The question has enough weight to it to really make him think about it, too.

“Calm.”

The moment Bruce says that, he realizes it is true. A stillness has taken hold of his mind that he has become utterly unused to, leaving all his thoughts to echo without an instant response.

The Other Guy is a constant presence in his mind. Sometimes, after a fight, he is muted when they are both exhausted. This utter silence, however, is frightening in its intensity. Bruce never thought the absence of his constant struggle to keep the upper hand against the Hulk would trouble him this much.

“What happened?” Bruce asks, his hands clenching around the bed sheet. He is frantically searching the recesses of his mind for the Hulk’s presence – and finds nothing.

“It’s all right, Bruce,” Tony says, holding out his hands in a calming gesture. He still does not come into the room, though. “Don’t panic. It’s –”

“What. Happened.”

Thunder crashes outside, making both of them flinch. Bruce would not have paid it any mind, if there was not plain worry written all over Tony’s face as he glances out the window. The sky outside is black, roiling clouds surround the tower as if it is their epicentre. It looks close to what it does when Thor is raging.

“You need to take a deep breath,” Tony says in a deceptively calm tone, still looking at the window. “Everyone’s safe. I’d come closer but you’re only going to shock me again if I do, and I don’t think my heart would like that.”

Tony is talking nonsense. He looks frazzled and tired, making Bruce wonder whether the battle was more taxing than what he can tell from the few snippets he remembers.

“Shock you?” Bruce echoes, even though that is not his main concern by far at the moment. If someone developed a weapon or method to temporarily – or permanently – take out the Hulk, Bruce needs to know. Although he is not sure what he would do with that information, not while he is on the verge of panic at not having to struggle against the Other Guy. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Sighing, Tony runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up worse than before. The rings under his eyes appear to get darker by the minute.

“You and Thor were hit by a spell,” Tony says, then falls abruptly silent. It has new worry shooting through Bruce. What if something serious happened to Thor? What if the Hulk did something to him? Before he can voice that, Tony continues, dragging each word out as if he would prefer to swallow them back down. “Now he’s very much green all the time and you have an electricity problem.”

Bruce cannot do anything but stare. He is sure he has misheard or that Tony is making a very bad joke. His face remains serious, though, even though none of this makes sense.

Looking down at his hands, Bruce notices for the first time the tingling in his fingertips. Cautiously, he reaches out for the bedrails and pulls the blanket to the side. A spark flies immediately from his index finger, travelling through the metal rail with a hum. He does it two more times, reaching the same result.

That is one hell of an electricity problem. Once that realization hits, Bruce is reminded of what else Tony said. He is not nearly ready to process any of what is happening right now. All he knows is that sparks are flying from his fingers and that his head and body, for the first time in years, are completely his own.

“Thor is what?” Bruce asks, deceptively calm.

Tony, to give him credit, looks right into Bruce’s eyes. “Thor is battling the Hulk.”

“As in the two of them are fighting somewhere or –” He trails off. None of this makes sense. The Hulk is not a separate entity, not in the way that he can just jump out of Bruce’s head into the real world without taking Bruce with him. They are one. In a way, Bruce understands that now although he has always refused to believe it before.

“Or,” Tony says like that is an acceptable answer. He looks decidedly uncomfortable. “Somehow you can call lightning, and Thor is housing the Hulk in his body.”

For a moment, everything is still. Neither of them moves, while Bruce’s mind is as empty as it has not been in forever. Then, all at once, panic hits.

“Where is he?” Bruce jumps to his feet, almost yelling. The thought of someone else having to carry the burden of the Hulk is unbearable, especially since there is no way of forgetting how much destruction Bruce wrought before he managed to get the slightest bit of control over the Hulk. “We need to sedate him. They might just tear down the whole tower and –”

“Calm down,” Tony cuts through his worried rambling. He finally takes a step into the room but comes to an abrupt halt, grimacing. There is a crackling tension in the air, Bruce notices that only now. “Thor has turned green several times in the last hour, but the only thing they’ve destroyed until now are Thor’s clothes. Their fighting is a purely internal thing. If that makes sense.”

It does not. The Hulk’s only purpose is to destroy. There is no reasoning with him, no getting the upper hand.

“Take me to them,” Bruce demands. He walks forward but stops when the air keeps crackling. He clenches his hands, hides them against his hospital gown, but it does not get much better.

“Thor has sent us all away. Roared it really,” Tony says and looks apologetic about it, almost as if he is afraid how Bruce will react to being kept away from the Hulk.

He should be rejoicing or, at the very least, be glad to be rid of the Hulk, however temporarily. He does not wish this burden on anyone else, though, much less a friend. And that is ignoring the pain and destruction they can cause.

“We need to take care of your sparkling problem first,” Tony continues when Bruce does not know what to say, what to do. “I brought you gloves.”

With automatic movements, Bruce catches the gloves out of the air when Tony throws them at him. They are surprisingly modest for something obviously coming out of Tony’s workshop. He pulls them on, not wanting to think about what they are made of or why he needs them. If he has shocked people just by them coming too close to him, it is no surprise why he was not attached to any of the monitoring devices and why no one dared to stick a needle in him.

Gathering his thoughts as best as he can, Bruce nods. “Now,” he says in a tone brooking no argument, “take me to Thor.”

Tony wants to argue. That is what he does. In the end, though, he merely shrugs and steps back to let Bruce through the door. They walk in tense silence for a few minutes directly towards Bruce’s lab and the safe room built into the back of it. Bruce is not sure he can stand the sight of someone else locked inside there.

“What’s with the storm outside?” he asks, mostly to distract himself, although he supposes the answer is not something he actually wants to hear either.

“That’s all you,” Tony says, less boisterous than he would normally have. “God of Thunder, remember. It’s been brewing since you began to wake up.”

Great, Bruce thinks, not only are they going to let the Hulk loose on New York, it is going to be during an unnatural thunderstorm too. He has seen first-hand the damage Thor can do with the lightning he calls, and Bruce would definitely prefer it if he did not accidentally burn down the whole city because he does not know how to control his new gift. Control has never really been his thing.

When they arrive in the lab, Bruce’s eyes fall immediately on Thor. He is sitting with his back against the wall, a blanket pulled over his naked form to allow him at least some privacy. His eyes are closed and his knuckles are white where he has clenched them around his knees.

Bruce’s heart immediately goes out to Thor. Nobody should have to experience that. The first transformations were the worst. Each time, Bruce thought he could fight it, could stave it off. He never could, and the more he fought, the worse it hurt.

“Thor,” he calls out without thinking, going up as close as he can. “You need to calm yourself. You need to –”

He would have rattled off all the useless advice people have given him over the years, mind tricks and mantras, none of which ever helped. In the face of his friend’s suffering, he feels helpless enough to try, though.

That is when Thor looks up, eyes falling directly on Bruce. They are gleaming green, the way Bruce has seen in the mirror far too often. Suddenly, Thor’s skin seems to ripple, and Bruce has the questionable honour of seeing someone transform into the Hulk for the first time. He feels every second, every bending of joints and stretching of muscles, as if it is happening to him, the pure agony of being ripped apart and stitched back together again wrong.

Then the Hulk is standing before him, mouth opened as if to roar. His eyes are still on Bruce, wild but strangely conscious at the same time.

“Banner,” Hulk roars and jumps forward, hands banging against the transparent wall separating them. His fists are bigger than Bruce’s head.

He truly is a monster, Bruce realizes as he takes an instinctive step back, unable to do anything more than to stare at the personification of his rage, suddenly all separate from him. This is the ugly truth of who he is.

Tony appears at Bruce’s side, hand hovering over his shoulder but never actually touching down. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Bruce wants nothing more than that. He needs to bring several walls between himself and the sight of Thor trapped inside the Hulk. “But I –” he protests anyway, although Tony thankfully cuts him off.

“Thor seems to have it under control,” Tony says, even though control looks very differently from this. “But the Big Guy reacted to your presence. Let’s give them time to settle.”

When Bruce turns towards Tony, he catches a reflection of his own eyes, seeing how wild they are even without the Hulk fuelling his inner fire.

“The Hulk does not settle,” Bruce argues, desperate for them to understand that. He has tried unsuccessfully for years. “He is made to destroy.”

Tony glances between him and the Hulk, obviously put off by the fact that they are actually sharing a place but not a body at the moment.

“Well,” he says slowly, “right now, he really wants to get to you. And since we don’t know what for or what that would do to Thor, I suggest we’ll give the two of them some room.”

Bruce has some ideas what the Hulk might want with him, none of them good, but Tony is right. No matter what this situation is doing to him, he cannot do anything that threatens Thor’s well-being. Not anymore than he already has.

“I can’t –” he says and trails off, unsure what to say, what to argue against.

“Come on,” Tony smiles, his whole face gentle, “let’s make your room electricity proof.”

 ---

Nobody sees Thor for a whole week. He remains locked up in his room or the Hulk cage and refrains from commenting on how he is doing.

Meanwhile, Bruce does not know what to do with himself. Without the Hulk, he feels strangely empty, helpless even. He cannot even work or do much research concerning the nature of the spell that switched their powers, since he cannot control the electricity flowing out of his fingers.

Outside, the thunderstorm does not stop raging.

 ---

The presence of the Hulk slams back into Bruce without warning, a sudden force pushing past his superficial thoughts and settling back in his mind with so much intrusive shamelessness as if it has a right to be there.

Bruce’s instinctive reaction is relief. Disgust at himself rises only moments later, but he cannot deny that this is the first time in over a week that he does not breathe with ever-constant panic constricting his chest. That relief is not even caused by the knowledge that Thor has to be free of the Hulk now. It is just that he is complete again, no matter how often that puts him at odds with himself.

Outside, the clouds are already dissipating as the first hint of sunlight hits New York underneath. Bruce does not even have to test touching something to know that he will not shoot any more sparks from his fingers. The constant tension and slight burnt smell that has surrounded him for the past week is gone.

Without thinking, Bruce gets up, intent on finding the rest of his team to tell them the curse is lifted, that they are back to normal. A sudden thought lets him pause in the hallway, though.

Shame fills him at the mere prospect of having to see Thor. How can they remain friends after what he put Thor through? How can they even keep working together? The Hulk is Bruce’s greatest failure, his greatest shame. He cannot stand the thought of having shared it with someone. Especially not someone he admires.

“JARVIS,” Bruce says cautiously.

“Yes, Dr. Banner?” JARVIS answers immediately. Once, Bruce had felt uncomfortable at that. By now, it has become just another part of normal, another safety feature in case he turns into the Hulk where he is not supposed to be.

“Could you please tell Tony that the spell seems to be reversed?” With some hesitation, he adds, “And that I don’t want to be disturbed? I think I need some time to deal with –”

He does not know how to finish his sentence, but it appears he does not have to.

“Certainly,” JARVIS says, sounding gentle. “Don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.”

It is not even a complete lie that he needs some rest. Living with the Hulk is a constant struggle, even though the Hulk is suspiciously quiet at the moment. It is almost like he is humming, content to be home. The week of being free has apparently robbed Bruce of all his senses. Soon enough, they will fight against each other again. They always do.

 ---

Three days later, Thor’s patience runs out. JARVIS had announced several times that Thor was on his way to Bruce’s rooms, asking about his well-being, but Bruce had sent him away each time. Avoidance is never a solution, but he really does not want to have this conversation.

Now, though, Thor stands outside of Bruce’s room, having knocked and called for several minutes, showing no inclination of allowing himself to be ignored again.

“Bruce,” he says again, tone soft despite the booming of his voice. “I will not have you hide in your room.”

The alternative is to let Bruce, and therefore the Hulk, walk amongst them again. Surely, as someone who experienced the raw rage of the Hulk himself, Thor does not want that but is too kind to say it.

Taking a deep breath, Bruce decides to get this over and done with. He opens the door but finds himself speechless. This is definitely Thor standing in front of him, tall and magnificent, hardly changed, but Bruce cannot help but remember how it looked when he was torn apart to give room for the Hulk. The shame pooling inside his stomach is getting unbearable.

“You don’t –” he says, then tries again, “I’d understand if you want to stay away from me now.”

That is not what he wanted to say. He wanted to offer to leave to make it easier on all of them. Before he can correct himself, he is rendered speechless again by the sheer confusion on Thor’s face.

“Why would I want to do that?”

He sounds honest, and still Bruce cannot contain the startled and mostly bitter laugh falling from his lips. “You know what I am,” he says slowly, full of loathing. “You’ve felt the Hulk. You –”

“Know how strong you really are,” Thor interrupts him, no trace of doubt in his voice. “To live like this, with yourself split in two, I admire you. Fearing you would be an insult to both you and the Hulk.”

The thing is, Thor sounds honest. There is no mocking or scorn hidden anywhere in his tone or face. In a way, that makes it much harder for Bruce to believe him. He could have taken yelling or an outright fight. He could have packed his things and left like he has done a thousand times before. Instead, here he is, faced with an honesty he does not know what to do with.

“I’m a monster,” Bruce says, toneless but utterly convinced this will be it.

Thor frowns as if Bruce has displeased him. When he speaks, though, it is still not at all what Bruce expects.

“You are a man sharing a body with an honourable ally.” A smile tugs at Thor’s lips that looks almost fond, enthused with excitement. “The Hulk is not to be feared. He is –”

“You fought him,” Bruce cuts in, incredulous and certain he is missing something important here. “For an entire week, you were at war with that piece of me you got stuck with. So how can you pretend the Hulk is anything but to be despised?”

It is a miracle that nothing happened during this week, that Thor managed to contain the Hulk. Thor is much stronger than Bruce, of course, which is only partly due to him being a god. Still, it must have taken effort.

“He fought me,” Thor agrees with misplaced cheer, “because he woke up to find you gone.” He looks at Bruce for a long moment as if to make sure that he understood the words. “The two of you are tethered together. You are his safe haven. He naturally struggled against me. He –” Thor shrugs with a smile. “He called me a traitor for separating the two of you.”

No matter the conviction in Thor’s tone, Bruce cannot believe him. It is kind of Thor to try to make Bruce feel better about this, but Bruce has been fighting this for years. He created this demon sitting under his skin, constantly waiting for him to show some weakness.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce offers, unsure what else to say, how to make Thor realize that he is wrong.

“Don’t be,” Thor replies brightly. “We came to an understanding.”

With undisguised bitterness, Bruce mutters, “The Hulk doesn’t understand anything.” He truly is a creature beyond reason.

Shaking his head, Thor reaches out and puts his hand on Bruce’s shoulder, not withdrawing when Bruce instinctively flinches.

“He knows fear and love,” Thor says earnestly. “That in itself makes him relatable enough.”

Bruce wishes he had never opened the door. “I don’t – I’m sorry you were burdened with this.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Thor counters immediately. He is still standing in the open door, full of patience. “It led me to see many a thing I was blind to before, even though it was right in front of my eyes.”

His gaze is warm and heavy as it rests on Bruce, speaking of things Bruce cannot quite decipher.

“What do you mean?” he asks despite knowing better. Some questions are better off unanswered.

“When I call, the storm comes,” Thor answers without explaining anything, “you calmed it.”

Just when Bruce was sure they were getting somewhere, Thor has to say something like this. A smile tugs at his lips that tastes purely bitter on his tongue. “You might have missed this, considering you were busy fighting the Hulk, but the sky has been rumbling for this entire week.”

Thor nods as if Bruce has made a good point and one that is not at all contrary to his own argument. “My storms are meant to bring about the end of armies. Yet the city still stands.” He squeezes his hand around Bruce’s shoulder before taking it back. “The storm has not wrought the chaos the thunder promised.”

“What are you saying?”

Bruce’s confusion only rises. He just does not know what is happening. Only a few minutes ago, he was ready to leave the Avengers, certain that they are better off without him. Now, though, he thinks Thor is trying to tell him otherwise.

“You are worthy of songs being sung for millennia to come. Perhaps I will write a few of my own,” Thor declares with the air of promise. His lips turn up in a crooked smile as he amends, “If you are willing to hear them.”

The friendship between them is apparently not over as Bruce had feared. On the contrary, Thor looks at him with a warmth that has not been there before, inviting and certain in a way Bruce has never been about anything.

“Don’t make your decision right now,” Thor says before Bruce can reply – which is a good thing because he is not sure what is required of him here. “Listen to what your guardian has to say. I will await your answer.”

With that, Thor turns around, a spring in his step that Bruce has not seen before. He is still not entirely sure what happened, but begins to believe that it was not a bad thing.

What he notices too is the slight crackling of the air that disappears with Thor. It has become familiar to Bruce over the past week, the constant presence of energy waiting to be released. He misses it.

When he walks back into his room, he listens into himself, half expecting the Other Guy to rage at how close Bruce let Thor come to him. Instead, he is humming almost in approval.

Nothing makes sense, that is the only thing Bruce is certain about at the moment. What he feels, too, is the wish to hear the kind of song Thor would sing about him. He just has to work on being worthy of it – and maybe accept that Thor thinks he already it.