#martin deserves the cozy

[dorksmachina]

my friend just found this and someone PLEASE put martin in it

[monstrouscrew]

four times i drew Martin Blackwood: the third.

(ID in the alt text)

[wyattjohnston]

with the posting of the masterlist, the summer fic exchange 2k24 has come to an end! 33 fics written by 31 people. i am eternally grateful that these exchanges are still going strong and that people are having fun with it!

please read all the fics below, even if it's a player you don't normally read for. a lot of work has gone into these fics and they all deserve your time. make sure to reblog and leave comments when you've read it!

please respect all warnings at the beginning of fics. if a fic has been marked as smut or 18+ and you are younger than, do the right thing and do not read it.

i'm still unsure if i'm running a winter exchange or if i'm going to maybe reconsider the timing, but please come back and feel free to ask questions around november/december if i haven't said anything!

the summer fic exchange 2k24 masterlist

Boston Bruins

Jeremy Swayman

Indoor Cat by @nhl-stories for @ bqstqnbruin

Carolina Hurricanes

Andrei Svechnikov

i’ve been yours since you stepped through the door tonight by @writingonleaves for @ callsign-denmark

Third Time's the Charm by @typical-simplelove for @ kurlyteuvo

Frederik Andersen

But Baby, It Feels Like Love by @callsign-denmark for @ mp0625

Chicago Hawks

Teuvo Teravainen

I Think I Dreamed You Into Life by @kurlyteuvo for @ lila-rose

Colorado Avalanche

Nathan MacKinnon

hide the sun by @ohmyeyesmyeyes for @ wyattjohnston

Edmonton Oilers

Connor McDavid

i'm half-doomed and you're semi-sweet by @offside-the-lines for @ hiding-from-reality-56

Leon Draisaitl

… but you're going to by @senditcolton for @ thewintersoldierdisaster

Blue Hair and Pronouns by @hiding-from-reality-56 for @ nhl-stories

Florida Panthers

Matthew Tkachuk

always attract by @dunnerlars for @ sc0tters

truth or dare by @boqvistsbabe for @ ohmyeyesmyeyes

Montreal Canadiens

Cole Caufield

four weddings and a funeral by @thewintersoldierdisaster for @ prettytoxicrevolver

Juraj Slafkovsky

Summer Vacation by @prettytoxicrevolver for @ lam-ila

New Jersey Devils

Dawson Mercer

Baseball and Love by @lam-ila for @ hischier-papaya

Jack Hughes

CHASING YES by @puckology101 for @ tonsypep

Nico Hischier

home is just another word for you by @fallinallincurls for @ puckology101

felt like magic by @laurenairay for @ selfindulgentpoorlywritten

good luck, babe by @nol-pat for @ fallinallincurls

turbulent by @wyattjohnston for @ dunnerlars

walked in and dream came trued it for ya by @gravestrain for @ nol-pat

New York Islanders

Mat Barzal

First Time Feeling by @huuuuughes for @ ahockeywrites

truth or dare by @dunnerlars for @ writingonleaves

Matt Martin

I can't help it if I like it by @laurenairay for @ comphy-and-cozy

New York Rangers

Alexis Lafreniere

Romance in The Hamptons by @lifeofpriya for @ wildrangers

Matt Rempe

MEDICINE by @lila-rose for @ 2 manytabsopen

Pittsburgh Penguins

Anthony Beauvillier

one night standards by @comphy-and-cozy for @ offsidethelines

Tattoos of You by @bqstqnbruin for @ senditcolton

Ryan Graves

The First Time by @selfindulgentpoorlywritten for @ gravestrain

Seattle Kraken

Philipp Grubauer

Pfirsich by @mp0625 for @ huuuuughes

Toronto Maple Leafs

Joseph Woll

sunset by @hischier-papaya for @ lifeofpriya

William Nylander

I Wish You Would by @wildrangers for @ typical-simplelove

Vancouver Canucks

Quinn Hughes

somehow still stuck on you by @matthewtkachuk for @ boqvistsbabe

walkin' with his head down, i'm the one he's walking to by @tonyspep for @ laurenairay

if the person you wrote for hasn’t read and reblogged your fic, please tell me.

i only tag the person who wrote the fic as there are limited tags.

[caitified]

on stage

kate martin x reader

warnings:none

the sun dipped low over coachella, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink as you prepared for your performance. the anticipation was palpable, your heart racing not just from the excitement of the stage but also from the thought of kate watching you. after years of dating since college, she had become your rock, always cheering you on.

backstage, the atmosphere buzzed with energy. you could hear the distant thrum of the crowd, their excitement echoing in your chest. as you stepped out onto the stage, the lights blazed down, illuminating the sea of faces eager to see you. and there, right at the front, was kate, her infectious smile shining brighter than all the stage lights combined.

your set began with an upbeat anthem that had the crowd dancing, and you felt the rush of adrenaline as you performed. but in the moments between songs, your eyes were constantly drawn to kate. she was swaying to the music, completely in her element, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude for having her by your side through it all.

as you transitioned into a slower, heartfelt ballad, you locked eyes with her, and time seemed to stand still. the song was a love letter, each note infused with the memories you had created together. as the lyrics flowed from your lips, you could see her emotions reflecting back at you—pride, love, and a hint of nostalgia.

after the final note echoed into silence, the crowd erupted into cheers, but all you could focus on was getting to kate. backstage, adrenaline pulsed through your veins as you rushed to find her. she was waiting, arms wide open.

“you were amazing!” she exclaimed, pulling you into a tight embrace. the warmth of her body felt like home, grounding you in a whirlwind of lights and noise.

“thank you for being here,” you replied, your voice muffled against her shoulder. “it means everything to me.”

“of course! i wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said, pulling back to look into your eyes. “you’re incredible, and you deserve all of this.”

her gaze held a mixture of admiration and love that made your heart swell. “i’m just glad you’re here to share it with me,” you said, your heart racing with joy.

“let’s celebrate,” you suggested, the thrill of the night still coursing through you. “just the two of us.”

“i love that idea,” she grinned, her eyes sparkling like the stars above. you intertwined your fingers and led her away from the bustling backstage, heading toward a quieter area where the sounds of the festival faded into the background.

you found a cozy little spot beneath a tree, the warm glow of string lights creating an intimate atmosphere. as you settled down, you couldn’t shake the feeling of euphoria. this was your moment, and kate was right there beside you.

“so, what’s next for the famous singer?” she teased, her playful tone making you laugh.

“i don’t know,” you replied, smirking. “maybe a duet with a certain basketball star?”

“is that so?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. “i might just be up for the challenge.”

you both laughed, the sound light and carefree. as the conversation flowed, you shared stories and dreams, relishing the connection that had grown deeper through the years.

in that moment, surrounded by the soft sounds of the festival and the warmth of each other’s presence, you realized how much you cherished your journey together. you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against hers in a sweet kiss that left you both breathless.

“here’s to us,” you whispered, your forehead resting against hers.

“and to whatever adventures come next,” she replied softly, her smile brightening the darkness around you.

[nanamineedstherapy]

To Love & To Ruin

Chapter 5 - Frayed at the Edges (Ao3)

Teacher!Suguru Geto Vs Nanago

Previous Chapter 4 - The Infinity of Idiocy (Tumblr/Ao3)

Notes:

Okay, real talk: this chapter was a beast. I ended up rewriting the last one for better flow and added alot more characters and crack moments. If you’re reading this, it’s worth checking out the last one for cozy vibes with the JJK babies. This chapter I’m juggling Gojo & Nanami’s perspectives, so I've highlighted their names & added space for clarity—let me know if it works for you, or if you’d prefer a separate section for each POV instead.

The morning breeze whipped through the city, Sukuna had already taken the kids to school as Satoru slid into the driver’s seat of a sleek, Aston Martin Vanquish, freshly detailed & polished, in the color of Kento’s eyes. Akari had outdone herself, sourcing the model complete with all of Satoru’s requested upgrades & weapon proofings, proving she was more competent than Ijichi lately. 

When Satoru finally pulled up outside Kento's apartment, he saw Kento waiting, his arms crossed, brow slightly furrowed as he took in the car with a mixture of surprise & irritation.

“I’m not accepting this,” Kento said, folding his arms tighter when Satoru hopped out, arms extended in mock pride.

“Oh, but you are,” Satoru grinned, circling the car & stopping beside Kento. “Think of it as an early anniversary gift.”

Kento’s face darkened. "Anniversary of what? The last disaster we barely made it through?"

Satoru’s smile softened, a rare gentleness settling into his tone. “Yeah & if you don’t take it, I’ll feel like all of it meant nothing. We survived the disaster date, Kento. We deserve to make it count.”

Kento sighed deeply, staring at the car as if it were a trap. “You can’t just—emotionally manipulate me into taking a car.”

“Who said anything about manipulation?” Satoru shrugged, leaning close. “I just wanted to see you drive it.” All the while staring at Kento’s pouty lips, or as pouty Nanami Kento’s lips could get, a playful smirk tugging at his own.

Kento's cheeks flushed a faint pink as he averted his gaze. He knew Satoru was teasing, but there was a spark in his eyes that made his heart race. He finally relented, taking the keys from Satoru with a look that was both exasperated & grateful. They got into the car, & Satoru wasted no time sidling closer to Kento than strictly necessary, brushing their shoulders together. Kento shifted slightly but didn’t pull away, his fingers tight on the steering wheel, breath caught in his throat, a strange warmth spreading through him. He tried to focus on the road, but his mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

"Now that we're properly christening this thing," Satoru murmured, his voice low and husky, "we should make it a ride worth remembering, yeah?" He reached out to kissing Kento's neck, his fingers raking though his husband’s hair.

Kento's heart pounded in his chest. He yearned for Satoru's touch, but he was also terrified of what might happen if he gave in, they were in public. But before he could respond, Satoru's phone rang, interrupting the charged moment. It was Yaga.

“Goj—” Kento began, but Satoru was already answering, his face going cold as Yaga’s voice came through.

“We need you at Jujutsu Tech now. It’s urgent.”

With a final glance at Kento, Satoru ended the call, his expression shadowed. “Guess I can’t avoid him forever.” Kento started driving, enjoying the new car. He noticed how it suited his preferences.

.

The event space hummed with chatter as familiar faces from Jujutsu Tech gathered around, celebrating Ino's promotion. Yaga stood near the back, arms crossed, eyes flickering to the door every few moments as if waiting for someone—or rather, two specific someones.

In the center of the room, Sukuna leaned against a wall with a smirk, taking in the festive atmosphere with an air of boredom. Only he knew what was beneath the polished surfaces & sharp words, how two of the room's most stoic figures were far from just colleagues.

When the door finally opened, Nanami & Gojo entered together, & all eyes turned. Nanami attempted, with impressive restraint, to create a respectable distance between them, but Gojo didn’t bother hanging his arm on Nanami’s shoulder. Nanami’s attempt to hold onto professionalism was clear, but it failed, the barely-there closeness belying a bond far deeper.

Sukuna’s smirk widened as Yaga & the others watched with growing suspicion.

“You’re late,” Ino called from across the room, crossing his arms in mock irritation.

Nanami gave a small, composed nod. “Apologies. There was… morning traffic.”

“Oh, I bet there were,” Sukuna chimed in, amusement dripping from his words. He leaned closer to Yaga. “The ‘traffic’ being a certain white-haired menace?”

Gojo gave a dazzling grin, looking unapologetically smug. “Come on, guys. It’s not my fault we’re late; Nanami insisted on discussing... bread .” The small, private glance he threw Nanami’s way. 

Geto’s expression darkened as he caught the barely hidden exchange. There was an intensity in his eyes as he studied Nanami with the scrutiny of someone examining a threat. Something shifted in him, a cold realization tightening his jaw. Whatever was going on between Gojo & Nanami, it was deeper than he’d anticipated.

"Bread, huh?” Kashimo drawled, eyebrows arched. “Maybe that’s why he looked ready to kill you when you walked in together.”

“I did not,” Nanami interjected, though his stiff posture gave away his discomfort.

"Come on, Nanami, everyone knows Gojo's a wild card," Yuki joked, nudging him playfully. "It's a miracle it took this long for him to drag you into his crazy antics."

The room erupted into laughter, but Geto remained silent, his gaze cold & calculating. A flicker of something possessive, almost dangerous, flashed in his eyes as he continued watching Gojo & Nanami, irritation barely concealed behind a polite mask.

Ino raised his glass. “Alright, let’s focus on what we’re here for—celebrating my promotion!”

The festivities didn’t last long, though, as Yaga’s phone began to buzz incessantly. One by one, the other sorcerers’ phones lit up, faces turning grim as they read the incoming messages. The air shifted, tension simmering beneath the celebration.

Yaga cleared his throat, gesturing for silence. “Apologies, everyone. We had received a series of urgent calls. Each of you will have a new assignment. My apologies but it seems it can’t be delayed further. Gojo, you & Geto are required to head abroad for your next mission. The target is a special grade curse user with a high threat level. This is urgent so you both need to leave immediately. I’ll reassign your classes to others who’ll alternate since your mission is probably going to be indefinite.”

“Perfect! I was growning tired of same old Japan,” Geto murmured, his voice soft & controlled, but his eyes were bright, a glimmer of something unsettling in them. He moved closer to Gojo, a faint smirk touching his lips. “Looks like it’s just us, Satoru.”

Gojo forced a smile awkwardly, they hadn’t even exchanged pleasantries in over a year now. Nanami caught the tension in his stance, the slight flicker of unease that passed through his eyes. Gojo had no time to say goodbye, no chance to touch Nanami’s hand or murmur a promise before Geto practically pulled him toward the exit. But Gojo being Gojo, winked at Sukuna before “accidentally” tripping on his shoes & fell into Nanami’s arms then murmured an apology in his usual annoying yet endearing way, completely not sorry, & followed Geto outside, who in turn only smiled since he knew he was going to have Satoru all to himself now no matter how much he protested, with Nanami left in the distance, he was convinced it was only a matter of time.

As Gojo & Geto vanished in a blur of movement, Nanami stood in silence, his expression unreadable. The room buzzed with murmurs as everyone began mobilizing, but his mind was somewhere else, stuck on the warmth of Gojo’s hand on his shoulder, the unspoken farewell he’d never get to give.

Yaga’s voice cut through the room. “Listen up, everyone. With Gojo & Geto on the international mission, we need all hands on deck. Sukuna, you’re being sent to the Arctic—there’s an increase in cursed energy signatures there, & it’ll need constant monitoring. Pack for six months; it’s going to be brutal.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Figures I’d get stuck in the frozen wasteland. You hate me that much, Yaga,” he muttered, though a flicker of excitement flashed across his face at the prospect of a challenge.

Yaga turned to the others, ignoring Sukuna’s housewife quarrels as usual. “Kashimo, you’re on-call for any high-level incidents in the city. Keep things contained.”

Kashimo nodded, cracking his knuckles. “Good. I was getting bored anyway.”

“Higuruma,” Yaga continued, “you’ll handle Gojo’s previous assignments in the eastern district. Expect an uptick in activity.”

Choso leaned forward, waiting, as Yaga’s eyes landed on him next. “Choso, you’re on standby for any support missions, especially if we get reports of coordinated attacks.”

Choso gave a slight nod, his usual calm demeanor masking a subtle determination.

“Ino,” Yaga said, meeting his gaze with a rare look of confidence, “ congratulations on your promotion , but we’re going to need you to fill some very big shoes while Gojo’s gone. You’ll be a running point on most city-level missions.”

Ino’s face tightened with a mix of pride & apprehension. He straightened, giving Yaga a respectful nod.

“And Yuki,” Yaga added, “I need you to oversee the entire team while I handle matters at Jujutsu Tech. Keep everyone in line—and watch Sukuna in case he tries to leave the Arctic.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Sukuna scowled at Yuki who just chuckled.

Each sorcerer received their assignment with various levels of reluctance & determination, but as the calls from the higher-ups grew more frequent, there was no denying the sense of urgency. With Gojo & Geto gone, the rest of the team would need to stand on their own. The stakes had risen, & each of them could feel it as they headed out, leaving Nanami lingering just a moment longer, alone in the now-empty room, he was already missing Gojo.

.

The missions quickly started to wore Kento down. More than ever before. Each one left him more battered than the last, broken in ways he couldn’t even describe. With Satoru gone, special-grade curses seemed to multiply—relentless attacks that kept him clinging to consciousness by frayed threads. Without Yuki or Higuruma to cover him, he knew he wouldn’t survive the week. And even with them, he’d limp back to Jujutsu Tech barely able to stay on his feet, his clothes bloodied, the stains multiplying faster than Shoko could patch him up.

Every time he staggered into the infirmary, Shoko’s gaze softened, tinged with unspoken pity. Her eyes lingered a little too long on each bruise and cut, her hands moving over him with the efficiency of someone who had done this too many times. The pity stung worse than the needle biting into his skin. He forced himself not to wince as she worked, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, letting her believe the lie he kept telling everyone—that he was fine, that he’d hold up a little longer. He couldn’t bear the thought of her mentioning any of this to Satoru. If Satoru knew… he’d come rushing back, abandoning his mission in a heartbeat. And that guilt would destroy him faster than any curse ever could.

“Another rough one?” Shoko’s voice was soft, almost casual, but he could hear the weight beneath it. Her fingers pressed a little too hard, the way they did when she held back a question.

“Just… busy.” The lie tasted bitter, heavy on his tongue, but simpler. If it kept her quiet, it was worth it. And if it kept Satoru believing he could handle things… that was worth it too. But every mission, every new scar—it was like they were stripping him down piece by piece, leaving only the bones.

When Shoko finished stitching him up, her fingers lingered a second too long on his arm, a silent acknowledgment of what he was enduring. He managed a faint nod of thanks, then limped out, every step aching, his body screaming at him to stop. Somehow, he made it to his temp quarters, collapsing onto the bed as his phone buzzed in his pocket—Satoru’s name flashing on the screen.

Kento’s thumb hovered over the call button, a bitter warmth pooling in his chest at the thought of hearing Satoru’s voice. But he couldn’t bring himself to answer. Not like this. Not when he could barely keep himself upright. With a shaky breath, he slid the phone back into his pocket, sinking against the wall, his eyes drifting shut as the missed call icon burned into his mind.

Days blurred together, one grueling mission after another, until finally, he found a moment between stitches and bruises to return Satoru’s call. When it connected, Satoru’s face filled the screen, shadows under his eyes, his hair damp with sweat.

“Kento,” Satoru greeted him, his voice rough, but a hint of relief softened his expression. “You look… adorable, you know that?”

Kento forced a quiet laugh. “So do you,” he said, feeling a faint warmth push through the haze. Satoru’s voice, his stupid flirtation—it was the only thing left that eased the bruises, even if only for a second.

Satoru grinned, leaning closer to the camera. “If you were here, I’d show you a real cure for those bruises.”

Kento’s laugh was weaker this time, almost hollow. “Oh yeah? What, you’ve got magic hands now?” But before he could say more, Satoru’s gaze shifted off-camera, his expression faltering.

A voice—smooth, too close—cut in from somewhere behind him. “Satoru. You’re coming with me, remember?” Geto’s voice was calm, like this was just routine, like he belonged there. “Found this barbecue place you’ll love.”

Kento’s stomach tightened. The easy banter vanished, replaced by something colder. Satoru’s smile turned strained, his eyes flickering with discomfort. “Kento, I—I have to go. Geto’s here. I’ll call soon, okay?”

Kento nodded, though the words tasted like ashes. “Sure. Take care, Satoru.”

“Yeah,” Satoru’s voice softened, a touch of regret creeping through. “Stay safe, Kento.” And just like that, the call ended, leaving Kento staring at the darkened screen, feeling more alone than ever.

.

In Texas, Satoru leaned against a damp wall, sweat sticking to his skin. The days were an exhausting blur—missions, Geto’s constant presence, the ache of stolen moments with Kento that never felt like enough. Every time he tried to call Kento, Geto was there, his smile too easy, his presence too close, pulling him into a past that felt more like a cage.

Satoru told himself it was just old habits. Nostalgia, that was all. But every time Geto suggested another outing, another reason to stay close, Satoru found himself following, clinging to memories that felt like traps. The routine became a cycle he couldn’t break, a loop of exhaustion he couldn’t escape. And every time he managed to talk to Kento, Geto was there, his shadow creeping into the space, leaving Satoru distant, cold.

.

Another mission, another night spent in the infirmary. Kento barely registered Shoko’s words as she stitched him up, her silence heavy with things she wasn’t saying. He knew he should go home, should rest, but he was too broken to even consider it. Instead, he found himself lying in his temp quarters, too many bruises and not enough strength to answer when his phone buzzed with Satoru’s name. He should have picked up earlier, should have taken the call. But he couldn’t. Not like this.

Hours later, he called back. Satoru’s voice came through, a faint comfort that settled the ache in his chest. “Didn’t think I’d hear from you tonight. Texas still sucks, by the way,” Satoru joked, but his voice was hollow, each word pulled from a well of exhaustion.

Kento closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall. “You’re still there?”

“Yeah, lucky me,” Satoru muttered, the sarcasm brittle. “Just wrestled another oversized curse. Humidity’s working in their favor.”

“You sound close to collapsing,” Kento murmured, worry seeping into his voice before he could stop it.

Satoru chuckled, a laugh that barely reached him. “Look who’s talking. Bet you’re covered in new battle scars. Anything impressive this time?”

Kento glanced at his latest stitches, a faint, humorless smile tugging at his lips. “If nearly losing an arm counts.”

Silence stretched between them, thick with everything they refused to say. Satoru’s laughter was softer, bitter. “Trying to catch up to me, huh?” His tone held a forced lightness. “But… you’re okay, right?”

Kento lied.

The line between them grew taut, both of them holding back words neither could say. “Maybe… we should both take it easy,” he whispered, knowing the emptiness of the suggestion.

Satoru’s chuckle softened, a hint of bitterness slipping through. “Since when do we get that luxury?”

They both knew the answer. The silence felt like an open wound, a shared ache neither could heal. Kento could feel his exhaustion pulling him under, but he couldn’t let go, couldn’t bear to lose this fragile connection.

“I should… get some rest,” he murmured, his voice thick with something like regret.

“Yeah,” Satoru replied, a raw vulnerability slipping through. “Stay safe, Kento.”

“You too.”

The call ended, leaving Kento alone in the dark, clutching his phone as if it were the last piece of Satoru he could hold onto. He knew, with a sickening certainty, that Satoru was slipping further away, and he was powerless to stop it.

.

Somedays later, the door to Gojo’s hotel room clicked shut with a hollow finality, the sound swallowed by the oppressive quiet inside. He hadn't slept more than fifteen minutes at a time in over a month and a half. Forty-five days of exhaustion, his mind a constant blur. Every night was a battle, a desperate struggle against the encroaching darkness. He craved sleep, a simple desire that felt increasingly out of reach. He staggered forward, his body swaying, limbs sagging under the weight of twenty-two hours of relentless fighting. Each step felt heavier than the last, his once-impeccable figure marred and streaked with grime, sweat, and dried blood. The exhaustion seeped deep into his bones, dulling the usual sharpness in his gaze. He barely registered the bed before he collapsed onto it, still clothed, his form limp and nearly lifeless as he melted into the scratchy, unforgiving mattress.

The moment his head hit the pillow, sleep claimed him. It was a swift, merciless takeover, a dark tide that swept him away. He managed to pull a scratchy hotel blanket over himself, a Herculean effort before his consciousness slipped away. But even as he drifted off, the familiar sensation of falling jolted him, a primal fear that usually roused him from the brink of sleep. A hypnic jerk. Tonight, however, exhaustion had won, and he succumbed to the darkness..

.

One particularly exhausting afternoon, Kento finally had to fight Jogo. To make matters worse, he was tasked with infiltrating a spectral vessel, a ghost ship that had drifted in and out of existence for centuries, its crew lost to time along with unfortunate stranded souls it picked up. Whatever lurked within its haunted depths had grown exponentially stronger, a creature born of darkness and the sea. The Ship so ancient, it had become a part of legends.

Kento had spent the past week tracking it through dark waters, sleepless, a fruitless pursuit against a vessel that had evaded sorcerers for centuries. Metal ships were a rarity in those ancient times, yet this one endured, a testament to its otherworldly nature. Why’d he find it so fast? His mind, clouded by fatigue and frustration, struggled to comprehend the situation. And now, face-to-face with Jogo, he could feel every one of those sleepless nights pressing down on him like lead.

.

And then, at the edge of oblivion, still in Texas, it hit Satoru.

A burn—searing, raw, like liquid fire spilling across his skin. A split second, a single, fatal instant, where his Infinity slipped, betraying him as he slipped into the darkness of sleep. The burn erupted on his neck, and then, a vicious, acidic spread, blistering over his chest with a ferocity that ignited every nerve in his body. Gojo’s eyes snapped open, wide and unfocused, his brain clawing its way back to consciousness as the scream ripped from his throat, hoarse and primal.

"Suguru!" The name tore free, instinctual maybe , a hoarse and desperate gasp that cracked under the weight of agony. His voice was a mere rasp, a hollow shell of its usual strength, strangled and weak, each word slashing through his throat like barbed wire. No answer came. His eyes darted through the dim room, desperate, wide with panic. And then he saw it—a twisted shadow of a lizard, small and grinning, slithering along the walls, a creeping horror come to life.

.

The ship was wrong. From the moment Kento stepped onto the deck, he could feel the weight of centuries bearing down on him, like ghosts clinging to the very air. It creaked and shifted under his boots, each step sending echoes into the hollow darkness. The vessel was silent—too silent for something that had eluded sorcerers for three hundred years.

Now, here he stood, aboard the rusting, broken vessel, facing the taunting Jogo. The curse had manifested in a particularly theatrical sorcerer, a stark contrast to Kento’s desire for a swift resolution. Seriously, what was with special grades being so talkative ? With a weary sigh, he drew his blade, eager to end the ordeal and return to the comforts of Gojo’s extravagant yacht, where perhaps he might finally indulge in a night of more than 15 mins of sleep.

Jogo watched him with that infuriating sneer, flames flickering around him as he paced the length of the deck. Kento’s mind felt thick, sluggish, like he was moving underwater. His strikes were clumsy, off by fractions, and his thoughts seemed to slip away like smoke. Focus, he told himself, but his mind felt hazy, his reaction time slow. Thirty days of fighting had worn him down to the bone, and now he was on a cursed ship, facing down Jogo, a special grade he had no business fighting alone.

And that was just the thing—Jogo was the wrong match for this place. It was the last thing Kento could make sense of in his fogged mind. A volcano-type curse spirit in the middle of the ocean? Surrounded by water? Kento’s senses screamed at him that something was wrong. But before he could process it, a searing pain lanced through his shoulder as he was thrown against the ship’s iron haul, the old metal crunching beneath his weight. His shoulder shattered with a sickening crunch. He gasped, biting back a yell as his vision blurred from the pain.

Jogo’s laugh echoed through the empty ship. “Exhausted already?”

Kento gritted his teeth, fingers tightening around his blunt sword. Every instinct told him to retreat, but he forced himself to focus, lunging at Jogo with what little strength he had left.

But Kento didn’t get far. From nowhere, a brutal kick struck him from behind, flinging him hard into the railing, his shoulder cracking against the metal. Pain shot through him, sharp and unforgiving, and he knew then—this was no ordinary ambush. His vision blurred, and he realized he’d made a mistake. There was something more, something hidden. The ship’s original curse spirit, lying in wait.

.

The acid crawled higher, seeping up Satoru’s throat, and the taste of burned flesh filled his mouth, bitter and nauseating. The room spun, tilting in and out of focus, the very walls seeming to close in on him. A memory surged up, unbidden, violent: the cold bite of Toji’s blade tearing into him, that single, merciless strike that had left him helpless, drenched in his own blood, his bestfriend lost, never to be the same. The same dread tightened around him now, an iron grip on his heart. His hands clawed at his chest, trembling, desperate to tear the agony away, but each movement only intensified the pain.

“ No… no… not again ,” he gasped, his voice low, breaking, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. The acid ate into his skin, and his fingers trembled, helpless, feeling his neck where the cursed substance burned into him, past his defenses, searing flesh like it was paper. He forced himself to breathe, to focus, but each breath was ragged, slashing through his lungs like glass shards. The scent of scorched skin filled his senses, sharp, metallic, unbearable.

In some fractured corner of his mind, his Infinity struggled to contain itself, its familiar hum flickering, like a guttering Volcano. But he was spent, his cursed energy thin, ebbing in short, panicked bursts. His body, pushed past its limit, refused to respond, each limb leaden, numb. And yet the pain dug deeper, relentless, carving into him until every beat of his heart felt like a detonation, an explosion of pure, agonizing heat.

.

Jogo laughed, his voice dripping with contempt. Kento’s fingers tightened around his blade as he braced himself. His mind cleared for a split second, and he saw it—a shadow behind him, something twisted and dark lurking just beyond his sightline. It was a trap, a perfect one. Kento wasn’t fighting Jogo alone—he was up against an ancient spirit embedded in the ship itself, one that had kept this vessel hidden for centuries. Every creak, every shudder, seemed to be its heartbeat, its laughter. It wasn’t Jogo who’d thrown that kick. Kento’s heart sank.

His shoulder throbbed, a dull ache that mirrored the despair gnawing at his soul. The two Special Grade curses on this accursed ship were a force beyond his comprehension. He was a mere mortal, a flickering candle against an eternal night. Yet, he would not yield.

A chilling wind howled through the decaying vessel, carrying the whispers of countless lost souls. The cursed spirit, the heart of this nightmare, pulsed beneath the rotting floorboards.

"Well, Nanami Kento...no one said you’d get a good night’s sleep. Guess a fool can only roll the dice so many times." He murmured to himself, his lips quirked up in a faint smile, the weariness settling heavy in his bones, but his mind was razor-sharp now. "Gambling it all for someone’s freedom...maybe that’s not such a bad way to go."

Jogo broke though his thoughts, “look at you, breaking apart already. Thought you were the stubborn type, but I guess I was wrong. It’s almost... pitiful .”

Kento sighed, unbothered, “you know, Jogo, I’ve dealt with a lot of irritating characters, but you’re up there. All this bluster—and here I thought volcanoes were supposed to explode .”

Jogo sneered, “Keep talking & you won’t be so smug when you’re dust.”

Kento spoke, smirking faintly, coughing slightly from the pain “Maybe. But I’ve got nothing to lose. It’s enough for me, even if it takes me down with it.”

Jogo mocked, “Self-sacrifice? Really, Kento, I didn’t take you for the martyr type.”

“Think of it more as... strategic leverage . You’re bound to catch on one day.” He pauses, eyes sharpening as he lowers his sword toward the deck “Or not.”

.

“ Suguru… ” Satoru whispered, the name escaping him in a choked, fragile whisper, barely audible as his vision blurred with tears, the edges darkening. He was back there again, with Toji smiling over him—helpless, paralyzed, trapped in that endless, nightmarish replay of his own vulnerability . Time slipped, twisted; he was reliving it, reliving every second of that fatal moment when he’d been nothing more than a man standing on the edge of death.

The small lizard laughed, a twisted, sick sound, low and mocking, sinking into his bones. "So, this is what you get, Satoru Gojo. All that power, and look at you now—a mere mortal caught in a nightmare of your own making."

Gojo’s fingers twitched, desperation clawing at him, instinct urging him to retaliate. But his mind, his strength, both lay broken, splintered, stretched too thin. In the agonizing, helpless quiet, all he could hear was his own labored breathing and the mocking whispers that seemed to echo through the room. The world shrank, a narrow tunnel of dark shadows and searing agony, and Gojo found himself spiraling, sinking deeper into a depth he couldn’t claw his way out of.

And then, from somewhere within the pit of his despair, his Infinity flared wildly, seething burst of raw energy, as if summoned from the last reserves of his rage and anguish. It tore through the room, a devastating wave, annihilating everything in its path. The cursed spirit shattered into wisps, dissipating in a final, twisted scream, the room dissolving into ruin around him.

But Gojo lay there, unmoving, too broken to feel the victory, every nerve raw, his chest rising and falling in shallow, painful gasps. He stared up, vision darkening, body numb, drifting somewhere between waking and oblivion, haunted by shadows, his mind trapped in a darkness all its own.

.

In Kento's mind, a bittersweet memory surfaced, a vision of Satoru, that lazy grin and the way mochi dust sometimes clung to his cheeks, making him look like some goofy, wide-eyed squirrel. The memory softened the ache for just a moment.

Kento let out a steadying breath, his lips curling into the faintest smile. He was ready. He need to aim toward the cursed wood beneath him. If he hit the ship’s core with everything he had, he could sink the damn thing. Himself included. He had no illusions about surviving.

With a heavy heart, Kento raised his sword, its edge glinting in the dim light. This was the end, the final chapter of his story. He would not surrender to the darkness. He would meet it head-on, a defiant smile on his lips. As his hand tightened on the hilt, he could feel Satoru’s lazy laugh echo somewhere in the back of his mind, a warmth even in this frozen hellscape. " No regrets. Not now, not ever. " Kento saw Satoru’s face one last time, warm and carefree, a picture he’d keep with him until the end. " If you’re the last thing I see, then I’m ready. "

Already, feeling the ancient wood splinter beneath him as the ship groaned, a hollow sound that seemed to reach into eternity. With a surge of adrenaline, he swung his sword, one last strike aimed at the ship’s rotting heart. The world dissolved into a cacophony of sound and sensation. As the ship groaned and splintered, Kento closed his eyes, a single thought echoing in his mind: freedom .

Notes:

Brb, about to sprint around the house like a madwoman, roll on the floor in despair, projectile cry, and let my cats witness my emotional collapse in real-time. Seriously, though, if you have thoughts, comments, or just want to scream about this chapter with me, drop them below! Your feedback is what keeps me going and prevents me from dissolving into a puddle of Nanami and Gojo-induced agony. *Prays for comments to distract me from this emotional mess.* Also, why are there no playlists of lovers dying separately at the same time? ( ͡╥ ͜ʖ ͡╥)

Next Chapter 6 - Where the Heart Can’t Follow (Tumblr/Ao3)

Series Masterlist

All Works Masterlist

[too-much-tma-stuff]

You're looking for TMA requests?

Alt S5 Martin and Jon actually DO visit Oliver Banks, Avatar of the End Domain—and it's not what they were expecting.

Bonus if Oliver isn't just interested in Jon—but Martin too

Jon still didn't intend to kill Oliver when he finally let Martin talk him in to tracking the End avatar down. If anything it was more about him wanting to see a friendly face, and maybe because Martin's seeming insistence that all avatars were evil. Accept Jon of course, Jon was one of the good ones. It made Jon feel awful, and very uncomfortable, maybe Oliver would be able to show Martin that not All avatars were the same and not all were bad.

They found Oliver in, well it looked very much like an ordinary cottage, it didn't even have a second story. It was quaint with a peeked rook and it looked like a loft for storage. Jon hesitated and then raised his fist and knocked on the door Martin hovering behind Jon with a sort of eagerness that made Jon a little uneasy.

When Oliver answered the door he was smiling, perfect white teeth standing out against dark skin, the little gap between the front two making it comfortingly human. "It's good to see you Jon," He said, his voice was familiar even though they hadn't interacted when Jon was awake. "Come in," He assured, stepping back and waving them inside.

"What?" Martin sort of squawked. "You know we're here to kill you right?!" He asked and Oliver laughed.

"I know that I couldn't stop you if you were," he confirmed easily, not outing Jon's lack of will to actually kill him even though Jon was rather sure Oliver knew somehow. He always seemed to know just a little more then he should for someone who wasn't eye aligned, then again of course he would be able to feel his own incoming end. "But come in anyway, would you like a drink?"

"That sounds lovely, thank you," Jon agreed, polite if a bit strained and walked inside. It was airy, clean if a bit cluttered, cozy. Jon went over to the couch and sat down, Martin sitting down next to him while Oliver walked around the island into the kitchen to grab them glasses, pouring them all some sort of dark alcohol.

"What are we doing here Jon? I thought we were going to kill him?" Martin hissed into Jon's ear, his voice a little higher then usual.

"I know, but let's just talk to him first okay? I promise he's not bad, I think you'll like him if you give him a chance alright?" Jon pleaded softly, getting an exasperated sigh and a nod in return.

Oliver came over with a silver tray with their glasses on it, setting it on the coffee table and handing Jon and Martin their glasses before he sat down across from them. He crossed one leg over the other and sipped his drink. Jon's motions were a little jerky as he took a sip as well.

"Jon! Don't drink that! What if it's poisoned?!" Martin asked, aghast and Oliver laughed, Jon couldn't help but chuckle as well.

"It's fine Martin, I would know if it was," Jon promised and Oliver nodded along with a bland smile.

"He would, and I would know if you were going to choke on it, so it's perfectly safe," He promised with humour in his voice.

Martin grimaced but after a moment he sipped his drink as well. "Good alcohol is hard to find in the apocalypse huh? I have to admit I miss the world the way it was," Oliver sighed, swirling his own glass. "Not that I blame you Jon," He added quickly giving the archivist a gentle smile he didn't think he deserved.

"Oh? All the other avatars are happy about it." Martin snipped back and Oliver shrugged.

"I don't doubt that, but I never really wanted any of this and, well, the End is a bit different then the other fears, as Jon knows. It's inevitable, unlike other avatars I've never had to really do any work for my 'god', I don't even know why I was chosen honestly. Maybe just in case this happened? Because it's not really like the End even needs avatars, everyone's going to die regardless, I just wander around witnessing it.

"I mean I Have caused death, a couple of times, and maybe it makes it worse that I didn't have to. I guess I just got so desensitized to it..." he shrugged again. "At least I don't need to sleep now, not constantly feeling exhausted is a perk, not sure it's worth all this though."

"No, I don't think so either. For me at least it just moved the nightmares to waking life," Jon said with a sigh, Oliver nodding along sympathetically.

"Exactly, I mean, everyone was dying before, but this is worse. Before this at least not everyone suffered, some deaths were peaceful and steeped in love. I miss it," he sighed a little and took another swig of his drink. "Oh I didn't offer you anything to eat! I know we don't actually have to eat but there is still food here that's good, would you like some biscuits? Unconventional pairing with brandy I know but they're what I would miss wondering the wasteland like you two have."

"Yes please," Martin gushed before he could help himself and then blushed when Oliver laughed softly.

He put down his glass and went back to the kitchen, grabbing a plate and putting an assortment of biscuits on it before coming back and setting it down between them. "You know even if you are going to kill me I'm still glad to see you both. It's lonely being an avatar, even before the end of the world. I liked talking to Jon, and he wasn't even awake then, I've been wanting to talk to you, both of you."

"Both of us? Why?" Martin spluttered, his hand pausing halfway toward the tray of cookies. He hesitated and then grabbed a sandwich cookie and then sat back against the couch.

"You seemed nice, both of you. And I guess I was, and still am, jealous of how much you two clearly loved each other even then, and still do even more it seems. I haven't been close to anyone in a long time, haven't been loved by anyone in even longer and it's nice to see even though I can't be a part of it," He says with a slightly pained smile.

"Oh," Martin sounds, looking sympathetic for the first time, and maybe a little flattered.

"You would want to be a part of it," Jon said in a tone of realization, staring at Oliver with slightly glowing eyes as the other two froze. "You wouldn't ask, but you would be with both of us if we wanted it."

Oliver's expression was flustered for a moment before schooled to impassivity. "You know I knew I couldn't hide anything from you but you didn't have to out me like that." Oliver said making Jon wince, right, that probably wouldn't help with Martin's jealousy.

"You know Jon, we could stay here for a couple days," Martin said in a forced casual tone, and Jon choked, Oliver reeling back.

"What?" Martin asked defensively. "He's got biscuits, and drinks and I'm willing to bet some decent tea that's not stale as anything, and well, he *is* attractive." Across from them Oliver let out a startled sound and put his glass down hard to cover his face with one hand.

Jon couldn't help but laugh even as he nodded, nudging his shoulder against Martin's. "I told you you'd like him if you gave him a chance. Alright, would you mind hosting us a wile longer Oliver?" Jon asked warmly, laughing as the End avatar gave another little choked sound and nodded quickly.

[aquietweirdo]

First listen to: MAG 162 - A Cozy Cabin

If you plucked at my heartstrings the same way you would a harp, what sound would it make? This episode was just as heartbreaking as the previous one. Did Gertrude ever feel regret for her actions? Everything she did was for the greater good. She threw everyone away until there was only Jurgen Leitner left. In her final years, did she ever feel lonely?

Sasha and Tim truly are the perfect duo. If this series wasn’t a tragedy I could totally imagine them saving the day through the power of love and friendship. I’ve seen so much fanart on here of Sasha as the archivist and now I know why. She really was unforgettable.

Martin has got to stop leaving Jon alone. I know that Jon was busy grieving and that Martin is technically an avatar of the Lonely but come on. Bad things always happen when Jon is left to his own devices. Though I’m glad it got him to stop wallowing. I hope they do confront Elias. Stopping him won’t fix anything but he doesn’t deserve to be happy when he’s the one who ruined everything.

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[swynlake-spill]

I posted 384 times in 2022

310 posts created (81%)

74 posts reblogged (19%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@aquata-the-champ

@oh-phineas

@marie-a-bonfamille

@kouros-herc

@alana-the-brilliant

I tagged 383 of my posts in 2022

#daily spill - 236 posts

#hot ass tea - 57 posts

#phineas flynn - 41 posts

#boba meme - 26 posts

#isabela madrigal - 23 posts

#insta spill - 21 posts

#annie tremaine - 20 posts

#isaac morey - 20 posts

#hercules kouros - 20 posts

#gem morey - 20 posts

Longest Tag: 102 characters

#sorry i use all my power to stop pip from commenting and i succeed like 50 percent of the time however

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Why are the Moreys all so hot 🥵 and yet their family is pure disaster. The deals we make with the devil

as a gay person let me tell u this is just how hotness works we enter into a contract at birth and are granted immeasurable power sometimes a few eggs get broken on our quest for greatness but is the sacrifice worth it?

u

tell

See the full post

2 notes - Posted March 27, 2022

#4

I RATE NEW YEAR’S KISSES

based on my own arbitrary standards! That’s right, cozies, it’s the new year and I’ve been gathering THE hottest gossip to fire up our January. And you know who else was in the business of melting hearts? These sexy singles...soon to be... not singles??? 

I will be judging these kisses based on 1. if i saw it coming 2. if this couple has a future and 3. if it’s movie-material!!! 

1. DOT AND MIM. 

SCREAMMMMMMMMMM I love baby gays!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Gotta say, we all thought Mim had a thing for Ferb, right? So this was big GASP, though on Dot’s side, it had to be a long time coming. That’s like, the only person she talks to in school! For potential slow burn points, plus EEK secondary cuteness, I’m giving this kiss an 8/10. I hope I see dates to Chippamunka’s in your future! 

2. NICK AND VIXEY

This is a total what the fuck moment. 

For one thing, I have no idea who this Nick person is, just that he has a seriel killer van I do not trust! Where was Tiana? Where was Jun? Where was Al? Why did they not stop this from happening? Look, he’s hot, but good enough for Vixey? I highly doubt that, and consideirng he basically PEACED right after? You do not ding dong ditch my precious Chakraborty! Be gone, foul Wilde! 

2/10

3. PHINEAS AND LAURETTE

Yawn. Should I go on? I mean, it does give me some Netflix series original potential, very nerd guy meets popular girl trope, but I also called this a while ago. He’s been flirting with Laurette for months on Tinder. At least he finally made a move? And ofc Laurette can do better, and she will, when she dumps Phineas in three months time, max. 

5/10 

4. ISAAC AND SEAMUS 

............................ 

Really did not know what to do with this one. Fear the DILF anon will soon strike. Had no idea where this one came from. It was pretty tame all things considered, so maybe it was like kissing your grandpa? 

I regret saying that. ANYWAY you know! The Moreys deserve nice things! So normally I wouldn’t hate this but unfortunately... Isaac was not the only person Seamus kissed that night?! So um, this is a 1/10 for me. I’m uncomfortable. 

5. NICK AND SEAMUS

Meanwhile to piggy back on my NICK WILDE SHOULD NOT BE TRUSTED campaign-- what is this????????? 

Now this was NOT a friendly greet your grandpa kiss, this was a solid. Kiss, kiss. I got sooooo many tips about this kiss and how that type of heat implies there’s CHEMISTRY and HISTORY. Maybe Nick knows Seamus? Maybe Nick came to Swynlake FOR Seamus? I’m intrigued, and the drama is real, so the points are def higher-- but I still don’t like you Nick. 

6/10

5. MEI AND EDRIC

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! Now this makes TOTAL sense! They’ve been flirting for a little bit and I’ve been keeping my eyes peeled. After all, I think we all agree that Mei deserves a little love, and Edric-- a bit of a bad boy, bit of a player-- is certainly her type. I don’t necessarily ship this to the ends of the earth, but some fun dating times is certainly in the cards for these two! 7/10

6. MARTIN AND REN.

YASSSSS ending on a real high note with this one!!!! Martin, my darling, I knew you had it in you, you sexy scholar sorcerer! Ren and Martin have been dancing around each other for a while, so this was bound to happen. I’m glad Martin got over his lil case of shyness and took the dive! This will not be the last we see of these two, mark my words. Do I smell otp...? 

9/10

2 notes - Posted January 8, 2022

#3

Can Herc and Phil take ME on a date

instantly a big fan of this concept and so, using the survey, i will now present herc and phil with some awesome threesome options ;)

Aurora. She's already friends with Phil, so why not get friendly in the bedroom?

Dipper. Herc is Terence Squared. And Phil can probably teach him a few things ;)

Jessica. OOOO Now this one just oozes sex appeal! Not sure anyone would survive that trio ;)

3 notes - Posted January 27, 2022

#2

AND THE RESULTS ARE IN...

I’ve tallied the results from the Swynlake Date Compatibility Survey, and I want to give all y’all LOVEBIRDS time to connect before the big V-Day next month! After all, it can be soooo stressful to have a first date on Valentine’s! So why not get a head start? Do with this info w/e u want, though I hope you reach out and see if sparks fly beyond the data! 

EILONWY AND TANYA

ASHLEE AND ASHLEY

MIM AND ARIEL

AMITY AND RILEY

IAN AND DALE

GEM AND MARY

ELLI AND ISABELA

MERIDA AND TIGG

CHIP AND HOLLEY

DIPPER AND MIRABEL

AURORA AND SEBASTIAN

LO AND JESS

HERCULES AND PHIL KNIGHTLEY

NICK AND TING TING

ELENA AND SNOW

JUN AND ANNIE

AL AND VIXEY

THISTLE AND BRUCE

ur welcome~! 

EDIT: Tony and Laurette has been removed from this post by request :)

4 notes - Posted January 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Who needs the Kardashian sisters when we have the Morey brothers. Next public family feud…the Madrigals?

HA lol. I mean would I like to see it? Yes. Do I think its likely?

Let's take stock. We have girl-next-door Dolores Madrigal who JUST started teaching at the secondary and has already made a name for herself as a beloved teacher.

We have Isa Madrigal, one of Swynlake's IT girls... in the making? Depends who you ask. She might not be here as long as Marie Bonfamille or have the Swynlake native roots as Alana, but those Insta numbers don't lie honey! She's giving untouchable!

Plus fun-loving flamboyant Pepa? Sure she COULD start a scene, but it would be deserved!

Camilo, light of my life, is playful but never malicious! Antonio is 12! (JK, but the point is Baby, he is Baby.)

Luisa?????? You want to come for Luisa??????

Yeah I just don't see this happening

EDIT: lmfao i forgot mirabel!!!!!! its bc she is simply too boring to do anything gossip-worthy ever!

6 notes - Posted January 17, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[sel-jpg]

finally finished this uwu

[hiridraws]

after everything they deserve to snuggle together and be happy

[id: digital sketch of jon and martin from the magnus archives. martin is sitting on a couch with jon’s head in his lap. martin is reading from a novel (when passions collide by harrison campbell) and petting jon’s hair, and jon is sleeping, his hands curled next to his face. both of them are dressed comfortably and casually. beside the couch, a side table holds a cup of tea, a bookmark, and jon’s folded glasses. jon and martin both are wearing wedding rings. it’s all very cozy. end id]

[ival-eon]

let 👏 them 👏 rest 👏

reblogs > likes

[queer-chnospinci]

Okay hot take: martin k blackwood magnusarchives was (or is) into some subculture/ alternative clothing style

[ghostlybumblebee]

ah yes,, martin cozy sweater blackwood,, what a surprise,,

[voiceless-terror]

for the kiss prompt #11 I Almost Lost You Kiss or #29 Last Kiss if you like!

me: i don’t think i can write sad things, really

grace: gives me these prompts

i did them BOTH and here there be mag 200 spoilers

Martin tells Jon he loves him because that’s all there’s left to say.

He knew this would happen. It’s why he told the others to go early; he had seen the agony on Jon’s face as they made their choice. And even as he screams, even as he curses Jon’s decision, he can’t fault him. He’s so, so angry that it’s come to this, that all their words and their promises are nothing in the face of the powers and the rest of the world. Because it’s never been about them, in the scheme of things.  Every decision they’ve made has been for some grand plan, for someone else’s gain. Saving the world or destroying it, the stakes ever-rising. It was never just Martin and Jon. It was Martin and Jon and the Eye and the Web and the rest of the fucking world.

Martin knew even as he held him in his arms that night that it would be their last. Jon would never let what happened to him happen to someone else, not if he could prevent it but Martin’s always been about the here and now and what he can see and what he sees is the man he loves asking him to cut the tether, to kill him. There’s no certainty in his eyes but there’s hope and more than a bit of sadness. Jon doesn’t know the way anymore, not like he did before but neither does Martin, and if there’s a chance- a chance to save this world and Jon along with it- he’ll take it.

Jon smiles when Martin reaches him, and he’s crying, oh god he’s crying and Martin wants nothing more than to kiss away his tears so that’s what he does, their first kiss, chaste and sweet and presumably their last. He holds the one he loves close and with a trembling hand he drives a knife through his chest and it’s easier than he thought it would be, the flesh soft and yielding when it should be much, much harder; why is it so easy to do the one thing he swore he never would? Where he expects a scream of pain there’s just the tiniest of exhales; Jon slumps forward and if Martin closes his eyes he can imagine them somewhere else, in a cozy cabin or a cot in a basement, and when Jon goes limp he’s just surrendering to sleep and not dying and bleeding out in his arms-

The tower falls. 

_______

Jon wakes to sterile white. 

He’s dimly aware of pain, dull and numbed as it is. He takes great gasping breaths of air until the room is crowded with doctors and nurses and all goes to black once more. Eternities later, he wakes again to much more pain and a hand entwined with his. Someone is talking.

Martin is talking.

Not saying much of anything, really, just a comforting murmur of blended words but it’s a soothing melody all the same. He shifts and tries to blink the sleep from his eyes; Martin shoots to his feet at the motion.

A hiccuping sigh and a wave of tearful words. A kiss to his forehead. “I thought I’d lost you,” murmured into his hair. He can’t open his mouth to speak just yet but he hopes the pressure of his hand can convey the sentiment. There’ll be time for all of that yet, apparently, because Jon’s living and breathing and here along with everything else he brought. 

But amidst all the pain and fear and chaos he can feel lurking just outside the window, weak but waiting to feast on a world ripe for the taking, there is Martin. Because as much as he regrets his inability to see it through, his weakness is alive and speaking and smiling through tears. Jon made it about them. Because at the very last moment, when he could end it all, starve out the fears and save the other worlds, he saw the pain in Martin’s face and couldn’t go through with it. He panicked. Martin’s his reason, and that’s the real tragedy of it. 

In the end, he did what everyone wanted. The Web won, and they will never know if it was worth it because they’re somewhere else. When the guilt tastes bitter on his tongue he looks to Martin and tells himself he’s alive, you’re alive, and now you have to live with those consequences. He’s been given time, so much of it, more than he deserves. He doesn’t quite know how to make amends, doesn’t know if he ever will. But when he thrashes in his sleep at night, when he screams and sobs there is someone there to hold him down, someone who can’t grant him forgiveness but can remind him that there was a reason why he did what he did.

They’re together, and for now that will have to be enough.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30968831

[sideblogformindtrash]

Star and Stunt - Chapter 7

Of my collab with @unicornscotty​

CW: Pet whump; favoring a whumpee over the other; fear of punishment; degradation; dehumanization; conditioning;

The Director came to take Castor with him to watch the movie. Mutt was so, so happy that they’d be able to see brother’s performance…But they were torn to see they were left behind, in their cage.

However, Blaze came to retrieve them soon later, bringing joy back to his eyes as he crawled behind Blaze until the room of the movie. The Director shot a dirty glance at them.

“Why did you bring the Mutt?”

“...He is part of the crew. He deserves to watch the movie”

Blaze and the Director argued for a short while, before the Director relented and pointed them towards a place on the back of the room. Blaze sighed, but walked there with Mutt. From the seats the Director gave them… they could barely watch the movie. Mutt didn’t dare complain, but sadness was written all over its face. Blaze seemed angry about it, too.

“S-s-s-sorry” Mutt whispered, expecting a beating. Blaze just sighed.

“Not your fault. He is an asshole sometimes” 

...And he was overjoyed when Blaze petted it’s head. Just like they did often to Castor, this time, Mutt earned a few pats, and he couldn’t help but lean onto the touch, wishing it would never go away. 

“You know what? Screw this” Blaze got up, pulling Mutt’s leash. So he had given up. He wanted to watch the movie and would take Mutt back to the room, so he could have a nice seat…

Instead, Blaze took him outside. He was grateful for the sun and fresh air, but didn’t understand why.

“S-s-sir?”

“...Fuck that guy and his dumb movie” Blaze answered, shoving Mutt’s head on a helmet. Mutt almost cried about it, if it got a helmet… nothing good ever happened. Mutt was placed on the back of the motorcycle “Hold onto my waist”

Despite the confusion, it obeyed. It was scared of falling. It had no clue what trick this was, but there were no cameras now…

Blaze drove him to a place in the city it had never seen. It had more friendly looking houses and lots of trees, a big contrast to the crowded place where the studio was, surrounded by huge buildings. 

Blaze took him by the leash, with a pat to his head ��Behave, okay?”

“Y-yes sir…”

He walked with Blaze inside the house and… It looked cozy. It looked like a home. Much more than the studio ever had.

A pair of kids came running after a moment, calling Mr. Blaze ‘Dad’. He hugged them, and soon, another man appeared, dressed in similar punk fashion to Mr. Blaze. They kissed each other’s lips for a second.

“Hey, love” The man whispered.

“Martin” Blaze touched their noses for a second.

“Look, dad, dad!” One of the kids pulled at Martin’s pants, pointing at Mutt. They were both already all over him, messing with his hair and petting him. Mutt was over the moon about it “D-dad b-brought a pet!!”

Blaze smiled and waved away Martin’s concerned expression.

“It’s just for one night, he belongs to the studio” He held Martin’s waist “Don’t worry, he is well behaved. Director was just being an asshole” Martin giggled, scolding him on a joking tone.

“You need to stop skipping work”

“Yeah, but what would he do without me” Blaze smiled back “...Take good care of him kids”

They seemed more than happy to do so, spending the rest of the afternoon playing with Mutt, even giving lots of food and treats. Even Blaze seemed pretty calm now at home, and gave Mutt lot’s of pats and even some candy, and let Mutt sleep on the couch.

Mutt wished it could stay there. A home like this was all he and brother had hoped for.

Taglist:  @milk-carton-whump​, @cowboy-anon​, @getyourwhumphere​, @lave-whump​, @cupcakes-and-pain​, @justabitofwhump​, @tears-and-lilies​, @pinkraindropsfell​