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farfromstrange · 2 years

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Foreigner's God: Chapter 18

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC

Chapter Summary: She’s tired and overwhelmed and just doesn’t understand why Matt isn’t angry at her – she’s a bad person, right? She has to be. Or in simpler words, Eliza struggles and Matt is there to pick up the pieces. He always is.

Other characters: Happy Hogan & Claire

Warnings: angst, so much angst ouch, mentions of minor character deaths, mentions of suicide, depression, making Matt see (yes, that’s a warning), fluff, non-sexual intimacy

Word Count:

A/n: I just watched my policeman and I’m in shambles, so I did cry while rewriting this… this is entirely self-indulgent. We all need Matt in our lives. I think I’m not the only one who identifies with that one speech in this chapter, and I hope it offers you the same comfort it did me when I wrote this. Take care of yourselves <3

Read Chapter 18: Anti-Hero here on AO3!

18+ MINORS DNI

It was long past ten in the evening. There wasn’t much Eliza could do; she was chained to Matt’s apartment, flinching at every loud sound coming in from the outside.

The past day had been quite busy and what happened between her and Matt somehow managed to push away all of the thoughts about the government declaring her a national fugitive. She didn’t receive any word from anyone, not that she expected them to after disappearing from the earth’s surface, but it still hurt. Tony refused to make a statement, as did Stark Industries. No one was trying to dispute the rumors and no one was delivering evidence either. The accusations were hearsay, but somehow it seemed like the world knew better. She was the bad guy. They had just been looking for a proper reason to lock her up.

Eliza watched the news footage on her laptop repeatedly. Foggy fell asleep on the couch after they shared some Indian food from the place around the corner and Matt told her he was going to take a shower. She was alone. The silence found its cruel way into her mind, allowing the thoughts to spiral.

Her bottom lip trembled. She looked terrifying. The red eyes, the hands - she didn’t recognize herself. She didn’t recognize the swell of pride and the desperate hunger for power that consumed her. It wasn’t enough, not nearly so. Part of her regretted it, watching the events go down over and over again, but another part was burning with anger. She was angry that it wasn’t enough, angry that she was being caged like an animal for being herself. She was angry that Hydra wanted her, that they were seeking her out because they realized their mistakes too late. And she was angry that despite all of that, the selfishness and the danger transmitting from her, Matt didn’t seem to find a single bone in his body to care.

She was an abomination. She was dangerous, a ticking time bomb, a danger to be contained. She was responsible for what happened, even without having touched that bomb. People died because of her; because Hydra wanted her.

The public needed to know what Tony did by allowing her to become an Avenger. They needed to see the rabbit hole her mere existence caused her to fall into, and she had dragged too many people down with her in the process. At what cost?

She chose to stay hidden, but it would only get worse. Hydra would raise hell and it would be her fault, and all the while Tony would sit back and wait for the government to ruin everything she worked for in the past couple of days. But she deserved to be locked up. She deserved to be contained. It was a necessary sacrifice.

Eliza toyed with the thought of surrendering herself, but she was too proud and too angry to give the reins over to Tony, and the entire thing was too dangerous for Matt alone to handle. If she left, he would die, and so would Foggy. If those two died, Karen would follow shortly after. Though Wilson Fisk himself was more than determined to destroy her before everyone else just to spite his nemesis – Matt.

Perhaps surrendering herself was the best and wisest choice, after all. She had to stop. Tony said it first. He knew better from the start and while that bastard was annoying and a liar, he had a point. People died. She had blood on her hands. She wasn’t strong enough for this. There was no way this was going to end in her favor.

When Matt came out of the bathroom, not yet showered, but only half dressed because he forgot to get himself a towel, he felt her presence on the bed. She was sitting with her legs crossed, staring out of the window. Salt hung in the air, unshed tears glossing over her eyes. Her heart was beating out of her chest, racing with the way her thoughts worked.

The rain kept falling against the window. Her leg bounced to the rhythm of the sky’s sobs. She tried to keep hers at bay, but staring at the outside world, well aware of the cages around her, loosened the cork that was keeping her together. The Billboard had stopped showing her face every two seconds, which was nice. The main color that night was blue, the same color she would have assigned herself if she had been a stranger trying to figure out her emotions. She didn’t quite understand what was happening, but empathy hardly mattered anymore. Seeing colors was just a byproduct of something more serious, and it felt as if she had lost control over the only thing she had ever been in control of.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and she jumped at the sound of his voice in the usually so quiet apartment.

She smiled. She tried to lie to him. “Yes,” she said, but he wasn’t buying it.

“You sure? You’ve been staring out there for the past hour.”

Had it really been that long?

“You’re watching the news.” He moved over to touch her laptop. The charger was hot and the device itself roared due to its age. He shut the screen, much to her dismay, placing it on the nightstand.

“I still need that,” she grumbled.

“Stop torturing yourself,” he said. His back muscles moved as he searched through his closet for a towel. “No more internet for you today.”

Eliza scoffed, it was bitter. “I’m just facing the truth.”

“What truth? They’re lying. You’re not a monster and you’re not dangerous. If anything, it’s slander. We could sue, you know. When all of this is over, we could drag everyone who accused you of murdering those people through the mud. By the time I’m done with taking them apart with every legal strategy I have, they’re gonna be the center of attention, not you.”

“I broke the Accords,” the first tear hit the floor, “I did. I hurt those people. I might not have been holding the trigger, but that bomb was meant for me and it killed a baby. A baby, Matt.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I knew that baby. His name was James. He was so tiny. They were my neighbors, and I got to meet him because I’m a good person who likes babies. You know what a good person who likes babies does?” She raised her eyebrows. “They watch out for them, they don’t kill them.”

“Hey,” he said, firm yet soft at the same time.

“Don’t act like any of this still makes me a good person! It doesn’t. That baby died because of me. My neighbors- I watched them try for one for years and now they’re just gone. You don’t get to call me a good person after what happened because of me !”

“Don’t yell at me,” and when she exhaled loudly in the course of her frustration, he made sure to add, “Fisk blew up that block. Hydra tried to kidnap you. Everyone is after you, trying to make you look like you’re the bad guy. They want you to feel that way. They want you to break, to cave, to lose control. They want you to be this…” As if he could see it, he pointed outside at the same time her face flashed across the screen, “Because they want to ruin you. It does not make you a bad person, so stop saying that! Don’t give them what they want, Eliza. Don’t.”

She wasn’t listening. His words hit deaf ears. It wasn’t pretense. In the heat of her emotions, she truly didn’t hear a word he said. Her brain pushed them far away, somewhere she couldn’t find them again.

“I’m a baby killer,” she said.

“What? No!”

“I’m the reason all of this is happening. You know, maybe they’re right. Maybe I should be locked up, maybe I should be sentenced. Having me off the streets would mean fewer casualties. If I had never gone after them if I had listened to Tony and allowed him to keep lying to me… I- none of this would have happened. The families in that building would still be alive.”

Matt knelt in front of her. “Stop.”

“I can’t, don’t you get that? I never know when to stop. I always want and want and want, and if I don’t get what I want, I find ways to get it anyway, but when I do, people get hurt. People always get hurt. It’s me we’re talking about. People around me die or disappear all the time.”

“That’s not true. What happened to your friends wasn’t your fault.”

“Don’t drag them into this.”

“But that’s what you mean, right? Berlin, the Avengers, your friends running from the law. You think it’s your fault all of that happened because you weren’t strong enough to stop it,” he said. “You’re projecting.”

“How is that projecting? It’s the truth! I could have tried harder to keep them here. I could have tried harder to stop them from running, to sort it out. I mean, it was my job and I failed. Now people are dead because once again, I failed to do my fucking job. I’m the problem.”

He shook his head. “Stop it.”

“If I surrender myself now, Tony could fix this. I could just ignore who I am and all of this would go away. I could just stop being this… person. I could stop trying to be who I was born to be because chances are it’s all a lie anyway and just accept that I’m nothing but an empath whose mind is just a little more fucked up than others. I should surrender myself. It’s the only right choice.”

“And all the deaths would have been for nothing,” he said.

She glared at him. “Innocent people died, Matt. Innocent people .”

“You’re right, those people were innocent,” he tugged at her thighs to pull her closer, “But so are you. You are the victim here.”

“No, you’re not listening. I’m not… I’m the problem that caused all of this in the first place. I am.”

“No, you’re not. You’re not the problem, Hydra is. The world is.” His thumb started drawing circles on her thigh. She shied away from his touch, mortified that he was still willing to see her in a better light.

“N-no.” The hick-up made her choke. “I keep seeing things, y’know, like some psycho? And she says it’s my fault too. She says I’m the problem, not the solution.”

In the corner, her double stared at her in disbelief. “I never said that,” she said. “I said I am. Don’t make this about you.”

“Who’s she ?” Matt asked. He could tell her eyes were focused somewhere else all of a sudden. He held her face, forcing her to look back at him. “Who’s she, Eliza?”

“Tell him. He’s gonna think you’re crazy. But maybe you are.“

Eliza groaned. She pulled at her hair, dropping her head between her legs. “Get out of my head,” she whispered.

“Hey, look at me!” he demanded.

“No.”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s just… I think I’m going crazy. I’m going crazy and I can’t fucking breathe. All of this… it’s too much. I can’t-“

“C’mere.” The tears wouldn’t stop falling. She laid her head on his shoulder. He opened her arms, caught her when she fell, and then closed them behind his back to make sure it was just them and no one could touch her.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

“Shhh, you’re okay.”

“No, I’m just making this worse.”

“You’re not. Hey,” he lifted her head only enough to have her meet his eyes, “You’re allowed to feel like this. It’s okay.”

Her body trembled. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“ I’m scared, Matt. I’m not scared of them, I’m scared of myself and somehow that’s even worse. I can’t take the fear away. It hurts me. It’s a pain that doesn’t go away. Like a fucking parasite. Oh, God.”

Eliza’s head fell against his lips and he used that to press a kiss to her forehead. He was holding her, body reduced to nothing but skin and bones. She had nothing else to defend herself with. She was naked.

“What if, after everything I’ve been through, something has gone wrong inside of me… terribly wrong?”

He rubbed the back of her neck. “Nothing’s wrong with you,” he said.

“But what if there is?”

“No. Nothing is wrong with you. Not a single thing.”

Matt listened to the way her heartbeat picked up at first, then started to slow down when she realized, even though she wanted to with all her might, he wouldn’t leave. He made sure to hold her, to help her tune the world out. And when she was ready, he let her pull him into a kiss.

He had his large hand on her jaw and cheek. Resting against him, she splayed her fingers along his wrist, stroking his pulse.

“It’s days like these,” she admitted, “that make it harder to find a reason to stay alive.”

Matt flinched. “Don’t say that,” he said.

“But it’s true. I’m just so tired, Matt. I’m so, so tired.”

“I know, but if you died…” he sucked in a sharp breath that made his eyes flutter close, “If you died, I wouldn’t know how to live with myself. So please, don’t say that. And please, for the love of God, don’t hurt yourself. I still need you.”

“Just feels like everything I do is wrong. Like the world would be better off without me.”

“Jesus,” he swallowed the pained sob. This wasn’t about him, no matter how much her words hurt him.

“I’ve been at this point before, you know,” she broke off with a scoff that sounded more like a bitter laugh. “Even before my overdose, I tried. I tried to jump off the roof of Avengers Tower, but it didn’t work because I was interrupted. Then I tried to bleed myself to death, also didn’t work. I tried it with morphine, failed miserably, so I took a few too many pills. I almost died. Almost. It’s always just almost,” she said. “I can’t even fucking kill myself without failing. I just won’t die. I should have. I have been on the edge of the cliff many times, but every time I saw the light, I came back. And I keep coming back. It’s like my life doesn’t have an expiration date, I just keep on being here.”

She had never said it out loud before. The times the thoughts occurred, she either tried to act them out or swallow them. She refused to admit when she felt broken when she felt hopeless with nowhere to go. She didn’t want to bother other people with her pain. Everyone struggled, she wasn’t special. It wasn’t fair on Matt to burden him with her dark and twisted thoughts. She already regretted it. The expression on his face was unreadable and she was too worked up to see anything but her own wild colors.

“And now you’re looking at me like I’m crazy.” She scoffed. “Must be exhausting, isn’t it? Trying to care for me only to realize I’m not the person you thought I’d be, that it’s too much work — rotten work.”

“No,” Matt breathed softly. He took her hand, placing it over his chest. “It’s not rotten work. Not to me, not if it’s you.”

He would dedicate his life to fixing her if he could. He would pick up all of the pieces, glue them together and make her better. She just had to let him.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Giving you the chance to tell if I’m lying or not when I say what I’m about to say.” He was trying hard not to cry. She curled her fingers into his shirt.

“There is a reason you’re here,” he said. “There is a reason you’re still alive. I know it might not seem like there is because life happens to good people in the worst of ways, and death almost seems like it’s an escape from the hell you’re living. I know life doesn’t seem like it’s worth living when everything goes wrong. People leave, people die, people either hate or love you, and most of the time it feels like everyone just hates you. I get it. I get that you feel alone like you’re on your own and there is no longer a point to life. You’re suffering, which means you’re not living, you’re just existing. Your heart is beating, but your soul feels like you’re in hell and being burned alive. I get it, Eliza, because I feel like that all the time. But I have learned… I’ve learned that there is always a light at the end of the tunnel,” he said. “For every terrible thing, there is something good waiting out there. And you’re good. You are so good. You’re kind, passionate, selfless… I know your mind tells you you’re not enough. I know it tells you that it’s all worthless anyway. I know you’re exhausted, exhausted from running, from fighting, from living for anyone but yourself, but you can fight this. You can fight this monster in your head. I know you can. Death is not the solution,” he said, “so please, don’t consider it. Don’t consider death as a way out. You need to live. Not for me but for yourself. And when you can’t do that, just then, do it for me .”

Her body tensed up with the worst crying fit she had ever encountered. She couldn’t sob, she couldn’t breathe.

Matt took her face in his hands. “Breathe,” he told her. “You’re okay. I’m here. Just try to breathe.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, tears streaming down her face uncontrollably. “I can’t,” she said.

“Yes, you can. Take a deep breath in.” He opened his mouth, inhaling. “And out.” He exhaled. “In and out.”

She hiccuped with her breathing. His heart was still beating underneath her palm. His breath fanned her face. She felt his lungs working hard, and she tried to fall in line with him. It was hard, breaking through a closed door that was holding the key to life itself, but he managed to free her from the restraints.

“That’s it,” he cooed. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” she breathed.

“Yes, you are. Good girl.”

In such an emotional context, hearing these two words felt entirely different. They felt good, reassuring, gentle praise to hold against her thoughts.

Matt stroked through her hair. “Do I have to worry?” he asked. “Do I need to be on suicide watch, make sure you don’t run away and get yourself killed?”

Understandable question. “No,” she said. She probably wouldn’t attempt to kill herself any time soon. She didn’t have the time for that.

“You sure?”

“Hm-hm.”

“Hey,” he said and pulled her close, lips hovering above each other, “We’re gonna be okay.”

“You think?”

“I know .”

“Perhaps you should give me some of that knowledge then,” her tone was almost teasing.

He snuck a kiss to her nose. “I have a better idea.”

Eliza found herself in the bathroom shortly after, clothes discarded over the sink, lazy hands touching her skin. It wasn’t sexual. He wasn’t trying to please her. Her skin felt so incredibly soft underneath his rough fingers. He made sure to take his time exploring her body, mapping out every last inch of her, memorizing it.

“Is this okay?” he asked for the third time. He was trying not to push her further than she was willing to go.

“Yes,” she whispered, “just please, keep going.”

The water ran hot. The shower was just a little too small to fit two people, but Matt refused to let her out of his hold anyway, so they made it fit. They made each other fit, the cold of the shower wall pressed to her front while he pressed kisses down her back.

So beautiful, he thought. And he was the only person she would ever allow to touch her like that, to map out her scars, every dip and every wrinkle, and every last stretch mark. He saw her for the first time. He saw her body, saw what she looked like. His hands painted the perfect mental picture, including all of the imperfections she was so insecure about, and his heart swelled. His heart swelled because he realized she was opening herself up to him, bearing everything she hated about herself so he could love her. She needed love, she needed someone, she just needed to know she was enough.

Her muscles relaxed under the gentle treatment of his fingers. The water on her upper arms parted as he pushed through the drops. It felt strange on her skin. Two entirely different substances mixed. While his tongue played with her shoulder blade, he kept on discovering the difference between water and skin, salt and neutrality. It was fascinating just how different skin could feel when found in certain positions.

Moaning almost contently, she leaned back against him, head falling onto his chest - his pecks were the perfect height to be using them as pillows. She called his name and he replied with a searing kiss on her lips.

“What are we?” she asked.

“Well,” he said, “What do you want us to be?”

“I don’t know. I’m afraid,” she paused, arms wrapping tightly around her middle and pulling her flush against the sturdy chest behind her, “I’m afraid that a label might ruin things, but we’re not friends, are we?”

Matt had to shake some of the water out of his hair. “Friends don’t look at friends that way. Not that I can look at you, but I do have a look in my eyes whenever I’m near you.”

“I just…” she chuckled at the teasing bite to her cheek, “if I end up ruining things like I usually do-“

“Don’t even start.”

“You know I can’t just stop believing it, right? That’s not how this works.”

He hummed knowingly. “I will keep telling you that you’re not the person your mind tells you that you are,“ he said. “You’re better than this. I won’t stop until you believe it’s true.”

She could live with that. “I don’t want to lose you, ever. Do you understand?”

“I know.”

“I’m serious. Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t. We can figure it out as we go, but I’m not going to leave, no matter what direction we might end up going.”

When the time eventually came to decide what to do with each other, she would hold him to that. She promised herself.

“What exactly is it that you see?” Eliza dared to ask aloud into the comfort of their shared bedroom.

Foggy was snoring peacefully outside, the door only half-closed, but enough to offer some privacy as they lay there, on top of the comforter in nothing but underwear and her in his shirt.

Matt sighed. His eyes were pointed upwards to the ceiling, aimlessly moving around.

She took in the sight next to her. There came hardly a time when moonlight broke into Matt’s apartment, but for some reason, it managed to fight that night, and as it fell on his face, she couldn’t help but admire the man he was. Sharp jawline, plump lips, big nose, and those eyelashes of his were longer and darker than most women’s facial hair could be.

It seemed like someone cut him out of a magazine and put him there, just for her to see, to admire, but not to touch. In the serenity of the night, Matt Murdock seemed unreal. His body was made out of marble, with muscles like those of the Greek gods she read about many times before, and skin as soft as silk. He was breathtaking.

Museums tell you that you’re not supposed to touch the artwork. Hands off the masterpieces. Eliza felt God telling her the same thing as she watched him, taking in the rise and fall of his chest and the way he shifted underneath her gaze. It was one of the few moments where he was completely calm.

What exactly is it that you see? He wasn’t sure how far she was willing to open that up.

“Remember what I told you about the world on fire?” he said. She nodded. “Well, I wasn’t lying when I said it’s a metaphor, but at the same time, it’s not, not really. Can you close your eyes for a minute?”

She frowned, at first.

“Just, I’d like to demonstrate. Close your eyes?”

Hesitantly, Eliza allowed her eyelids to flutter close. Instead of blinking, she let her lashes rest on her cheeks, and the world around her turned to black.

“Are they closed?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, surprised he had to ask. “They’re closed.”

“Do you see anything?”

“No,” she chuckled, “You told me to close my eyes, silly.”

“Okay, now imagine standing in a burning building.”

She wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but she followed his demand. She could almost see the red inside of her skin when she squeezed her eyes so tightly together, stars erupted in her vision.

“What do you see ?”

“I don’t know, it’s just… I imagine it’s dark, but at the same time, it’s burning. I can see the flames, though at the same time nothing at all.”

“It’s like that for me,” he said. “Or you could compare it to sunlight streaming through your skin when you have to squint against it so your vision goes momentarily red. It’s like that, kind of. The world is on fire and that’s what it feels like with everything else being so strong …“

Her heart broke. He didn’t try that hard with anyone else. He struggled to explain because really, how do you explain the fact that chemicals took your vision but gave you heightened senses in return? How do you explain something so complex to a person who has the advantage of seeing? No matter how many words or metaphors he used, no one could ever fully understand without going through the same hell he walked through.

She took a deep breath. “How do you do it?” Her eyes fluttered back open.

Matt shrugged. The faintest smile rested on his lips. “You get used to it.”

“I honestly don’t know what I would do if I were you.”

“It’s been two decades, Eliza. If this were to happen to you right now, you’d have to learn how to deal with it first, as I did. Blindness doesn’t exactly come with a handbook.”

“Hmm,” she wriggled her shoulders further into the comforter, “How does one deal with it, exactly? I mean, all of the things you do, you coordinate them through the things you can hear, smell, taste, and feel, right?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“How?”

Matt sighed wearily. He lifted his hand. The fabric of her shirt bunched up around her rib cage. With every drag of his fingers, it rustled. The hairs on her skin stiffened. He wasn’t touching her, not really. Calloused tips hovered over the first layer of skin, enough to feel the heat radiating off of her. He placed his fingers down slowly. Blood rushed underneath the skin. Her stomach growled from the lack of sustenance.

“Right now, I can feel the blood rushing through your veins,” he said. “I can feel your muscles shift, the way your skin is starting to close around the wound in your side, and it’s fast. It’s faster than anything I’ve felt before. I can also hear the goosebumps on your arms. Sounds like the crinkling of paper, only softer. And your heartbeat just picked up again just from the sound of my voice.” He grinned. “I know you were wondering how I knew where certain spots are that drive you crazy…” his index finger stroked over the band of her underwear. “I can feel them under your skin. Your heart, like any other heart, has its own special rhythm. The heartbeat changes with anticipation, and so does the body. Sometimes it’s goosebumps, but more often it’s the way the muscles twitch and just the blood pumping underneath the skin that has me capable of finding spots a normal person might not be able to.”

“Like echolocation?” she asked him.

His chuckle sounded rough in her ear. “Yeah, like echolocation. Although,” he leaned in closer, “I don’t need echolocation to know where the clit is.”

He wrapped his lips around her own before she had the chance to let out a snarky remark, or the sound of embarrassment that had been brewing inside of her chest ever since he started touching her.

“My senses,” he said, “They make a lot of things easier, I admit that, but I believe that if you pay enough attention to your lover, you don’t need enhanced hearing or sense of touch to know what they like or dislike. Besides, there are a lot of distracting factors that come with this gift .” He put the last part in quotation marks. “Like, I can feel the subway tunnel underneath the apartment complex whenever one of the cars drives by. The floor vibrates. It’s even worse at night when I have nothing else to focus on. Sirens, cars, music, the sound of my neighbors fucking, and then there’s the baby down the street that has the strongest lungs, and honestly, after listening to it night after night, I don’t really care that he’s a baby, I just want him to stop. I get a headache. That’s why I don’t sleep much, that’s why I go out. By helping people, I minimize the sounds and the pain, and it knocks me out enough to ignore the world for a little while. And don’t even get me started on the horrendous smell of the streets or the flower shop around the corner. Food also tastes weird most of the time, which makes me pick wisely what I eat. That’s just a handful of things, so yeah, it’s not always fun. Most of the time, it fucks with my head.”

“Like a sudden flash of light would distract me when I’m trying to look at something?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Eliza let out a prolonged sigh. “I’m sorry. It must get tiring, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“I know what it’s like to get distracted by other people’s emotions… can’t imagine having that happen to all of my senses.”

“Be glad you don’t have to.”

“So you never regret what happened?”

“Regret? All the time. But I’ve accepted it. I’m fine with who I am,” he continued. “I don’t mind. I’ve grown used to it. Sure, it was a change at first, and I struggled hard, especially with the enhancement of my other senses, but now, the way I’m living, I don’t miss it. I don’t wish I could see you, for example, that’s not… okay, that makes me sound like an asshole.”

She was full-on laughing behind her hand now and he was flustered, the blush heavy on his cheeks, and she loved to listen to the adorable squeak the struggle left in his voice.

Matt chuckled when he heard her. “I think you know what I mean.”

Eliza nodded. “Yeah, I get it.”

“It’s just that sometimes, I’m expected to act as if I miss it. I’ve heard people say, oh I’m sure he misses it because they pity me, you know. And I don’t want to explain to them why it’s not entirely true. I can’t explain what happened to my senses without blowing my cover and even then most people wouldn’t understand, and I don’t know how to explain that I’ve gotten used to it because it just seems so impossible for a normal person to hear.”

“I want to say I’m sure they would,” she said, taking a deep breath, “but I can’t because I know from experience that it’s not true.”

Matt chuckled, but it was a sad, darker one than the carefree noise it was supposed to be. “Having my sight back would be nice, sure, but I know it’s impossible, so I don’t waste my time thinking about what could have been and just accept what’s happening to me. There’s no use in lying.”

“Accepting who you are?” Eliza feigned a gasp. “How could you, Matt? You’re not allowed to do that.”

“Ha! Okay.”

“Tell me,” she said and turned to her side to look at him better, “Is there anything you would like to see again? No, that sounds wrong. I mean… Just, if you randomly had the chance to see anything you wanted for, like, a minute or so. Or, a genie comes around and offers you three wishes. What would you wish for? What would you wish to see, if it were possible?”

He answered promptly, “I’d give anything to see the sky one more time.”

“Okay. Why the sky, exactly? Explain it to me.”

“I don’t know. I liked watching the stars when I was a kid, but I also liked going to the park during the day. I wasn’t the type of boy to play soccer. No, I, uh, hated that. I liked to read and feel the sun shining down on my face. I always pointed out the cloud animals to my dad…” the softest laugh passed his lips, the memories full of serenity. “I didn’t have many friends, so that had to do. My dad was my friend. I didn’t fit in, but he did. He was great. He, uh, he always put me first. Always made sure I was okay.“

She smiled. “That’s great.” Why did she sound so bitter? It wasn’t her intention.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. “I didn’t think…”

“No,” she stopped him. “Stop it. You didn’t… I don’t know why I sounded like that. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I’m lying here talking about my dad while you��”

“As I said, it’s fine,” she said. “I asked you. I think it’s great, actually, that you had a great relationship with your dad.“

“You really think so?” He could already tell she wasn’t lying. She meant every single word she said.

She smiled over at him, trying her best not to let his happy memories affect her. He had been through hell and back, just like her. He deserved to remember the good things about his life before he got blind and his dad died.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Thank you,” he returned the gesture, stroking a finger over her cheek.

“I mean, it would be awful if we both had daddy issues. You have the mommy issues, I have the daddy issues. Actually, I have both of those. I have the whole family tree in my file for mental issues. But hey, look on the bright side, that makes for some amazing sex.”

He took a moment to register what she said before he burst out laughing. He laughed so hard, he had to place his hand in front of his mouth in order not to wake Foggy.

She snorted. “That wasn’t even supposed to be funny.”

“Shut up, you know you did that on purpose.”

“Okay, yeah, I did.” Her laugh started in the bottom of her chest, bubbling out like soap.

She stayed silent for a bit. Matt tilted his head to catch up on her breathing. The thoughts in her head were particularly loud again. Just as he was about to ask her, her voice broke the silence.

“What if I told you that I could grant you that wish I just asked you about?” she asked. She carefully turned to watch the expressions dance over his face.

He was confused. “What?”

“What if,” she sloppily slid her leg over his waist, lifting herself so she was straddling him, “I could make you see the sky one more time?”

“What are you on about?” Matt asked.

Her hands gently stroked his cheeks. “Do you trust me?” she asked.

“What does that have to do with anything? What are you doing?”

“Matt, do you trust me?”

“Always,” he breathed hotly into her face. “You know that.”

“Good, ‘cause I’d like to try something.” She moved one of her hands down his neck, up his bicep, and into the palm that was outstretched on the mattress above him. “I was thinking. I managed to make other people not see, and I’ve been doing so for a while. I put up an invisible wall, a door into a world in which we do not exist. So what if instead of making people not see things, or getting into their heads to pull out their most painful memories, I could make you see.”

He reached for her hips. “Oh,” the sound was soft.

“I did some research earlier and… it could work. Us right now is reality as we know it, but I can manipulate it. I’ve seen it happen. I just don’t know if-”

“Do it,” he said. She met his sightless eyes with a soft smile. He looked determined. His fingers dug into her hips, holding her straight, and she slipped her fingers through his hair. She detangled the knots left from their prolonged shower, still slightly wet.

“You sure? I don’t want to pressure you into anything.”

Matt pulled her down into a kiss. “I trust you with my life,” he said. “And I mean that.”

The faith in her gave her the last necessary push.

She kissed him again. “Okay.”

Eliza straightened her back. The muscles of his thighs tensed a little. He was uneasy. The way he kept holding onto her was a silent admission of fear. She stroked his knuckles briefly. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Eliza told him to close his eyes. He hesitated to comply. Only when her fingers found his eyelids and forced them down, he huffed, submitting to her handling. She smiled. She hoped he could feel it and realize he was fine with her, that as long as she was there, she would make sure there would be no harm done to him.

She wouldn’t have suggested trying it if she had been sure it would hurt him. Still, she asked for his consent because what she was about to do, whether it worked or not, would change something he had lived with for over two decades drastically, and only for a short amount of time – he would return to the way he was. What she was about to do would mess with his head and she wasn’t sure if that was a line she was willing to cross, but then she saw the flush on his skin and the desperation causing his muscles to twitch and she knew he had made up his mind.

He was her personal test rabbit.

There is something powerful about control. Having someone putty in the palm of your hands, following your every command, bending to your will. It’s just you and whatever you want to control, and it makes you feel like the king of the world. It makes you feel important. But power also tends to corrupt us. We’re human, after all. Governments have fallen because certain people couldn’t get enough of their power and always wanted more.

Eliza wanted more. She saw what she could do, what she could create with just a thought, and what it felt like to hold the world in the palm of her hand. She felt the energy expanding in her veins, opening new doors. She managed to control it before, she hadn’t killed anyone yet, so perhaps there was a part of her that already knew how to manipulate it because the reality stone, like all the other Infinity Stones, was a powerful creation of the universe. How it worked, exactly, she still hadn’t figured it out, but essentially, the process of manipulating reality was just science.

“Hands,” she told him. She intertwined their fingers on his chest.

“You don’t have to do this,” he sensed her hesitation.

She shook her head. “Just let me focus.”

The red in her eyes managed to black out both of her eyes, not even a pupil left to be seen. The smoke traveled from the middle of her forehead into the rest of her body, tainting her veins and turning the light surrounding her into something sharp and laced with toxicity.

Matt heard the chirping of the birds first, then he felt the sun on his skin. There was grass underneath him, scratching through a cotton shirt. The sensation was different though. It wasn’t intense. He couldn’t smell the pollen invading his nose. He couldn’t trace the pattern of the leaves underneath his fingers. His sense of touch didn’t go that far, and neither did his nose or his tongue. And for once, the birds seemed to scream just a little less loud.

The world around them was floating. They weren’t on Earth, couldn’t be. It felt like a fever dream to be lying in a field around summertime and not have a single thing to worry about.

“Open your eyes,” Eliza said next to him. Her voice sounded like an angel’s choir. She was no longer situated on his lap but rather kneeling on the soft grass.

Matt breathed. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it. The sun seemed to be burning through his eyelids. It never did. Changes in the light hadn’t mattered for a very long time because he couldn’t see them. He had to have been hallucinating.

She gently touched his cheek. “Come on,” her voice was so beautiful. There was nothing else, no loud noises, no vibrations, just the birds and her voice and the feeling of nature nudging his skin.

The world was so quiet. He had missed this. He had missed not being able to hear everything.

He squeezed his eyes. If he opened them, the world would shatter. He was sure he would be met with darkness or the site of one of his nightmares where he had to listen to the blood draining from his friends’ faces. A tear slipped down his cheek. She caught it, careful not to disturb him, and the rather impatient flick against his eyelashes made him giggle.

“Matt,” she whispered his name. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just open your eyes.”

The sun blinded him. Yes, it blinded him. You can’t blind an already blind person.

The sensation was entirely overwhelming. He could make out the soft blue of the sky, white dots of cotton candy forming the shapes of animals as they passed by the orange hues of the fiery planet shining down on planet Earth. The flappy wings of birds passed by as they hunted each other for food. A single leaf traveled from one corner of the park to the other. Flowers adorned the field he found himself on, the grass so incredibly green, the brightness hurt his eyes.

That day, for the first time in over twenty years, he opened his eyes and was met with the world instead of nothing.

He twirled around to get a good look at her face, but she was gone. Her spot was empty.

“No,” she said from somewhere behind him, and when he turned, her hand was back on his arm and face close to his neck.

Matt pulled his knees up to his chest. His mind was in shambles. He truly meant it when he said he didn’t miss the gift of sight. Having it all back was too overwhelming. The world was so beautiful, so raw, so wild, he couldn’t resist. He gave in. He allowed himself to smile, to laugh, and to breathe as if the real world wasn’t lurking behind a dark alleyway.

He tried to pull her in, but she refused. “I’m not letting you see me. You wanted to see the sky again and here we are! Don’t ruin it.”

“Why?” he choked out. Her forehead lay against his temple as she hugged him, and he watched the clouds pass by in perfect armies of tortoises and unicorns.

“You don’t need to see me,” her smile was visible against him. “You know me. You don’t need to see my face, not when you already know who I am in my heart. And I don’t want you to, either.”

He knew she was right. He didn’t need to see her. It would have been to satisfy his own curiosity, but nothing more than that. He touched her. He painted his own picture and that was enough. He didn’t need an actual picture of her in his mind. And the fact that she was granting him this one wish, seeing the sky again, being able to breathe fresh air without having to worry about a thing, was more than enough for him.

The tears stopped eventually. The birds kept on chirping their little tune, a song now stuck in his head, and they held each other as the sky slowly transitioned into darker shades of blue before it reddened completely in the west and faded into the sparkly dots of the far behind galaxies.

Matt was cuddled softly into her chest. No matter how tired he was, the sky was too beautiful to tear his eyes away. “If I fall asleep and wake up tomorrow,” he said.

“It’ll be gone,” she finished, nails scratching along his scalp. “I’m sorry.”

“Is this- are we dreaming or is this real?”

“It’s real for as long as I want to.”

He nodded. “Can we stay like this until I fall asleep? I’d like to take my time to find Orion.”

“You don’t have to,” he followed her finger to the right side of the sky, “It’s here. And this one,” - she halted her scratching to trace the invisible lines between the stars that were essentially just small, white blobs in the middle of space - “That’s Fornax.”

“And this one?” he asked and pointed somewhere in the far southwest.

“Aquarius.”

“And that’s Pegasus, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How about just below Orion?”

“Oh, that’s Aries actually.”

He hummed. “Oh. That’s cute.”

“We’ve also got Leo and Virgo in the east and Cancer in the northeast. Here.” She emphasized her words with the drawing of her fingers, the constellations coming together perfectly in front of his eyes. “And you know, Bootes is there too, in the south.”

The stars formed a distinctive picture. “Because it looks like a boot,” he said, rather unimpressed, with his eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Because it looks like a boot!” she declared proudly.

“Damn, who made up that name?”

Her chest shook with laughter underneath his head and he couldn’t help but smile at the carelessness that was suddenly in the way her heartbeat.

“Bootes is thought to stem from the Greek word for either ox driver or noisy. In mythology, it’s either depicted as Icarius, the hero of the Attic deme of Icaria, or Arcas, a human son of Zeus.”

“So if Norse Gods exist,” he crossed his arms, “Do the Greek Gods exist too?”

“I don’t know. I only ever met Thor and Loki. That’s enough outer space people for a lifetime. Though Thor told me a story once…”

But by the time she had finished, he was already fast asleep.

The stars were gone, the night chilly and the ceiling way too dull with its many rocks instead of the wide open sky. The constellations long forgotten, Eliza found herself straight into the darkness of his apartment. The silence ate her alive. Matt was breathing peacefully on her chest. He was calm. He looked so beautiful like this, finally able to rest without the worry lines on his face. And he was happy. For the first time, he was happy, and she would have done anything to keep it that way if she had had the means.

The sharp headache rubbed at her temples, breaking into her forehead like waves to shore.

“So, how does this work, exactly?” She found herself sitting on a hard rock in the middle of the red desert, the only object standing out of the smoke.

The Eliza in front of her gave her damn near a heart attack.

“I don’t want to fight or insult you this time,” she said.

“Alright. What is this then?”

“I’m gonna help you the best I can. I’m more comfortable here anyway.”

“That’s fine,” said Eliza. “I’m listening.”

“Deep down, you know how this works.”

“If I did, would I ask?”

“How do you come back here? How do you will me back into your consciousness?”

“I don’t know.” She lifted her arms in a sloppy shrug. “I just get a headache, then I close my eyes and I’m here. Almost like throwing up, kinda. And with you, I think I just prayed for a sign.”

“Prayed, seriously?” She had this amused glint in her eyes again. “You and praying, that doesn’t sound right.”

“But it’s true.”

“That’s not how this works. I know you want to think that there’s some easy explanation, but there’s not. You can’t explain something like this.”

“Then how does it work? Listen,” Eliza said and stood up, “I just learned about this whole reality stone thing a couple of hours ago. You tried to warn me and I’m sorry for not listening, but I want to learn more. I just don’t know how to control it.”

Her double reached her hand out. “Touch me,” she said.

“What?”

“Just trust me. Touch me. Do you feel that?”

“Yeah.”

“This is real.”

“Okay?”

“Everything you can consume with your senses is part of reality. And everything you can consume with your senses can be manipulated if you wish to do so.”

“Now you just sound like a Wikipedia page,” Eliza muttered.

“You hold the pen to change every story you read. If you want the world to look a certain way,” she said, “You just have to think about it.”

“So I can decide whether I want a character to be a part of the storyline?”

“If you want to use it as a metaphor, sure.”

“I could just rewrite everything?”

“Yes.”

“Change the characteristics?”

“You could change the entire character sheet if you’d like.”

She scoffed, suddenly curious. Time must have stopped in the world outside. Eliza smirked with her next question, “I could just change the setting?”

The other one nodded, snapping her fingers. “Just like that.”

“So this isn’t our only reality?”

“Reality is relative. Every universe has its own, and every universe’s reality is fragile.”

“Every universe?” she hugged her arms around her torso. “So the multiverse, it’s real?”

“Pretty much.” The double was sitting in front of her now, legs dangling over the rock. The roles suddenly reversed and she wasn’t even sure how she got there.

“Okay, so, this is where it gets complicated. I was exposed to the reality stone before I was even born, right? My DNA got pretty fucked up because of it. Some day, my dad decided I was entirely too dangerous, so he handed me over to Hydra to what? Control me, perhaps? And they didn’t know.”

“You can’t know something without ever being told about it.”

“But why didn’t he tell them? That would have made me so much more powerful.”

“Or they would have just drained you and reduced to ashes.”

“Okay, but why would they do that?”

“Because the stone is worth more than empathy ever will,” she pouted, “Sorry.”

“No, no,” Eliza waved. “It’s fine. You’re right. It doesn’t make any sense.” She sat down next to her, a few inches apart. “But why did they experiment with my amygdala instead of figuring out where my powers really came from?” she asked.

“We started manipulating things from a young age. We couldn’t control it, so they did the next best thing. They took what we already had and put it into something new. That way, we were unstoppable while also being submissive. If we had known…”

“We would have burned the world down and with it, Hydra.”

The two of them shared a meaningful glance.

“You’re not so bad,” Eliza ended up confessing. “But then again, you’re me. I shouldn’t be so surprised that you’re quite smart.”

“I’m the smart one,” she corrected. “You’re just an idiot with an amazing voice of reason.”

“Okay, I thought you weren’t going to belittle me?”

“I am not belittling you, just telling the truth.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” She got up again, ready to leave this place, ready to leave the desert behind and return to a more humid area that didn’t smell of dust and despair. “Our father should have just done a little more research, to be honest.”

The double tilted her head curiously. “How so?” she asked.

“We could have become one of the X-Men,” Eliza said.

“We could have also just been added to a home for peculiar children. It wouldn’t have changed the outcome.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I know a lot more than you think.”

“Hmm. I still think Professor X would have done a much better job at taming us than Hydra did.”

“You would prefer fighting with Deadpool over the Avengers?”

She frowned. “But Deadpool isn’t an X-Man.”

She was smiling, faintly but nonetheless. “You’re the only one to ever survive bearing the full force of an infinity stone,” she said instead. It was ominous and it caused her to lean back a little, rather unimpressed. “The universe doesn’t make such a decision for nothing. God knows when you might need one of the stones to defend all of existence. Or something equally as terrible.”

“So it was a sign? Yeah, right. Of fucking course it was!”

“You should listen to what your body tells you. You’re not out of control, you’re not new to this - you just have to learn how to live with me again.”

“I’m already living with myself. I admit barely, but thank you for your worries.”

“No, not you, Eliza,” she said, “I mean Alina.”

“What?”

“You wanted to know who I am? This is me.”

She disappeared.

“Okay, but who’s gonna tell me about the X-Men now? I’m too lazy to read the fucking comics!”

Reality quite literally slapped her across the face. Eliza grunted when she opened her eyes and realized it hadn’t been hours; the alarm clock showed one in the morning. Matt was still asleep, Foggy snoring in the living room. She checked her phone. Luckily, the world was no closer to discovering her whereabouts, so there was nothing but a few more slandering statements made by the DailyBugle to ruin her life. No one even suspected she was hiding from the people she did. The news about Daredevil disturbed her, but it was bound to happen. Tony had warned her, but she just wouldn’t listen.

She pulled on her jeans quietly, exchanging her sleep shirt for one of Matt’s and an olive green hoodie (also his because the only clothes she owned were either too short or too obvious and the rest of her belongings had blown up). She managed to go through his drawers without making even as much as a sound, finding a baseball cap alongside a blindfold - she would keep that in mind for the future.

Foggy shifted on the couch when she closed the bedroom door. Her heart beat faster. She felt bad, guilty even, using her powers to coax both of them into the deepest sleep possible. But she had no choice. The metal of the gun felt heavier than usual in the back of her jeans and the knife she had strapped to the inside of her boot scratched uncomfortably against her sock. The photo identification slid into her back pocket, a stack of cash from the second floor of her duffel bag in the other. She was ready. She had weapons and she had the perfect disguise. She was sure nothing could go wrong, though at the same time, she had the feeling that the second she would leave the apartment, the spotlight would fall on her and the government would come storming out of every building in a ten-block radius.

You won’t know if you don’t try.

The hospital was packed. She wasn’t sure where the curious crowd began or the medical personnel ended. Claire held the back door open for her.

“You know, when you called, I thought I was seeing ghosts,” she said. She peaked around the corner to make sure no one was watching them. “Like, you come to me for help instead of Matt? Sounds like a weird dream.”

“I’m sorry, I know this puts you in an awkward position,” Eliza answered.

“Not really, no. I made myself an accomplice when I lend you my scrubs, which went unnoticed, thank God. What surprised me is that you told me not to tell Matt.” They managed to cross another corner unseen and her eyes lit up. “It’s the most fun I’ve had in years,” the admission caused her to smirk.

“Oh, Claire, who would have thought!”

“I may not seem like it on the outside, but I do like myself some danger.”

“If people knew…”

“They can’t tie me to you. Now, I’m not a lawyer, but without evidence? I’m just a nurse.”

Claire pushed the door to the staff stairwell open.

“Third floor,” she stated, “Once you’re out the door, turn right, and then it’s the third room.”

“How about security?” she asked.

“The cameras here are fake. Metro General can’t afford to have the whole hospital under surveillance, so if you want to find doctors making out like in Grey’s Anatomy, go through the stairwell. Oh, and about the officer guarding his room…”

Eliza lifted her hand. She drew the line at involving her in more than she had to know. “Leave that to me,” she said.

“Okay, listen, I understand you want to see him, but you gotta be fast and you gotta be quiet. If somebody catches you, I don’t think there is much that can help you.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I’ve also got this,” she pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of her scrub pants, “The air ventilation plan you asked for.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Claire.”

The nurse pulled the door close behind her, locking it. Through the glass, she could read her lips. “Try not to get caught!”

Eliza flipped two fingers off her forehead before ascending the ridiculously long flight of stairs. Matt would kill her. She knew he would kill her. The second he found out or woke up without her in the apartment, she would be in for it, chances were she would forget what it was like to walk after. And not in a sexy way.

She softened the police officer’s fall to the ground with a hand under his head. His eyes were red, his body stiff. Tony had been here shortly before, she could smell the faint remains of his Axe body spray. Other than the security detail assigned to Happy’s room, there was no one there. It was late and no one expected her to come, probably, or anyone trying to hurt him so shortly after the incident. Or perhaps Tony told them to take it easy, that she wasn’t so stupid as to show herself in a crowded hospital just to talk to him.

He was wrong.

The familiar snoring didn’t fill the room. It smelled of disinfectants and saline and some of the disgusting food they had brought him before tucking him in for bed. Eliza entered and the man was wide awake.

“Finally,” Happy sighed. He pushed the button to get the backrest of the hospital bed to sit him upright.

She pressed a finger to her lips. “Are you okay?” she asked.

He nodded. This time, he kept his voice lower. “Just peachy. How are you?”

“Yeah, fine.”

“I heard what happened. What they’re saying about you. I told them-”

She quickly stepped into the limelight. He could see her smile and the silent apology on her lips. He patted the spot next to him. There wasn’t much space, but she could fit in.

Eliza slid into the bed. He lifted the blanket to allow her in. It was warm and comforting, and he was soft. She heard his heart hammering underneath his chest, proof he was still alive.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she muttered.

“Yeah, me too, pumpkin,” he said.

“I’m sorry about what happened.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Hey,” he forced her to look at him, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t have time to tell you the whole story,” she admitted.

“Then try your best to sum it up in one sentence.”

“Hydra’s back, I have the reality stone inside of me and they want it, so they’re trying to kidnap me while Wilson Fisk is trying to regain control and murder me at the same time, so I’m trying to stop Hydra through Fisk, which is complicated and since I’m working with Daredevil and doing stuff I’m not supposed to, I broke the Accords and the government wants my rogue, mutant head on a stick.”

He contemplated for a moment. “That was more than one sentence.”

“Trust me, it was one.”

“You know, using ‘and’ to connect all of your thoughts doesn’t make it a sentence but more of a mess of words, right?”

“Yeah, but on paper, it would be an English sentence.”

He sighed. “So, Daredevil?” he somehow managed to ignore everything else about her explanation.

“So, you’re not gonna scream or run to Tony?” she retorted.

“I think you realized that the second I came to your apartment tonight. It’s why you came back here to tell me the truth, I hope. I’m on your side, you know that.”

Eliza sat up. Her feet dangled off the edge of the bed, but she stayed close to him. “Do you think I’m a terrible person?” His approval was the most important.

He shook his head. “No,” he said.

“But you think I made a mistake?”

“You didn’t make a mistake. I just think you could have prevented this if you had told me.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference, Happy.”

“But what if it did?”

“This is so much bigger than you or me. You saw what happened tonight. You almost died,” she said. “I wanted to prevent that. Everyone around me is in danger right now and I can’t… if I lost you, too, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

He ran a comforting hand down her back. “I’m not blind, you know,” he said. The wires attached to his arm tangled with his sudden movements. “I could tell Tony was behaving strangely.”

“Tony always acts strangely.”

Happy tried to sit up straighter. She fluffed the pillow behind his back, taking some of the pressure off his injured side. He groaned. “Yeah, but this was strange, even for Tony, and then I remembered how secretive you’ve been acting, so I just connected the dots. It had to be something he said and you wouldn’t try to hide things from him if it weren’t for good reason.”

In other words, he knew something was up from the beginning, but he accepted her boundaries and didn’t push her. He just wanted her to be okay.

Eliza blew the air out of her pursed lips. “Jesus.” If she had told him, things would have never gone this far. “I tried to push you away. You were just trying to help and I pushed you away.” Her voice broke. Tears collected in her eyes, appearing like thin glass in the neon lighting of the room.

“It’s okay. You weren’t sure who you could trust,” he said.

“Yeah, but I trust you. Always have, always will, I just thought-”

“That I was gonna rat you out to Tony.”

“Yeah,” she sniffed. “I am so sorry, Happy. Really, I don’t… I wish I could take back all that happened, but I can’t. I screwed this up. I did. I have to suffer the consequences now, not you, not-” she cut herself off. Certainly not Matt. He was the last person to have to suffer for what she did.

She got up. Her knees cracked at the applied pressure. She wasn’t crying, though her chest hurt nonetheless. The weight was heavy, she could barely swallow. Her vocal cords were frozen in place.

“Does it help when I tell you that Tony isn’t a bad person?” Happy tried to reason with her. The direction her mind was going looked dark, a place where she might not return from if she wasn’t careful on her way down the rabbit hole.

Eliza scoffed in response.

“I’m serious, Liz. I can’t imagine him keeping this from you just to spite you.”

“Of course not!” she snapped. “Don’t you think I know that? Of course, Tony wouldn’t do any of this just to hurt me, but he did, and he knew it would, even if it wasn’t his intention.”

“I think he was just trying to protect you.”

“Well, there are other ways to protect me that don’t involve lying to me about crucial details of my life. A life I had no idea existed before I found that stupid file. Also,” she said, her breathing growing more shallow by the second, “It explains why I am the way I am. If he had told me, I could have figured out how to control this. He and Bruce could have studied me and it could have made sense. It would have spared me so much pain if I’d just known earlier, but he didn’t tell me. He didn’t even make an effort. Now tell me again he didn’t want to hurt me, not even deep down. If you truly believe that, look me in the eyes and tell me again, and then I’ll go. Tell me you’d forgive Tony for this if you were me. Tell me he is the good guy, even after all of this.” She pointed at her face.

Happy opened his mouth. He couldn’t say it. Telling her would have been a lie. Meeting her eyes, he struggled to find something comforting to say.

“Even after I delivered proof that Hydra is out there, he keeps refusing to offer the resources to help me. He wants me arrested so he can make this go away. He’d just make it disappear and I’d have to continue living in fear of this happening again and again and again because they want me. Hydra wants me. Rest assured, they’ll find a way! They’ll find a way, it’s what they do unless I stop them myself. It’s the only way. I have to stop them. I have to end them. And if all else fails, I can always end myself. I’m the key and I’d be damned to let him stop me. Without me, stopping Hydra is impossible. They’ve made it this far just to get to me. I doubt anything is gonna stop them, especially not Tony.”

“Eliza, please,” he said, “Sit down.”

“No. He doesn’t care! He knows I won’t stop until this is over and instead of helping me, he wants to be right, and he’d do everything to achieve that. He always wants to be fucking right. For someone trying to protect me, he’s doing an awful job at showing it.”

“You’re so stubborn, do you know that?”

“Yes, thank you. I’m well aware.”

“Did you allow Tony to explain, at least?”

“Explain?” she gawked at him. “Why would I let him do that?”

“Because he’s the only one who knows why he did what he did,” Happy said, exasperated. His heart monitor grew louder, the beeping faster together.

“I don’t need him to explain what I already know,” she retorted.

“But do you know, really?”

“I…” she didn’t. There could be a plausible explanation for everything and instead of listening, she pushed him away.

In her head, he was the villain, the bad guy, the one who stole her the only thing she had been asking for ever since she joined the Avengers. He denied her the answers that could have helped her shape who she was. For the longest time, she’d had no idea who was even staring back at her in the mirror. Everything hit her at once. It was too much. And there was no one else to blame but Tony. By hiding it all away, he only postponed the inevitable, and now she was on her own. She had to do this alone. No Avengers, no Tony, nothing.

She was going to die for the cause and no one would show up to her funeral.

Eliza wiped her cheeks. This was no time to weep. She was stronger than this. She had a fucking job to do. Crying wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Deep down, she knew how to handle all of this. It was in her blood. She had to find it in herself. She had to take the steering wheel before Hydra could steal it from her, causing her to crash the car into the next best wall. And she would do it alone. If she dragged Matt down with her, even further than he already was, she would never be able to forgive herself. She had to suffer, not him. She had to fix this, not him. It was all on her now.

You’re on your own, kid, always have been.

“You know,” she said, more reserved this time. Happy watched as the life drained from her eyes, replaced by a soulless monster. The soldier. “I’m glad you’re okay, I really am.”

He sighed. “No…”

“I’m gonna go now. It was nice to see you again, Happy.”

“Eliza, wait. You don’t have to go.”

“I do,” she said. Her hands flexed at her sides. The doorhandle rattled. She let the power dance around her fingers.

Reality can be whatever you want it to be.

She moved the lid resting over the vent to the side. In her mind, the metal of the door melted and glued it in place. The handle began to sizzle with the heat. The silver of the metal burned red. On the other side of the door, pained screams sounded loud enough for them to hear. The deadbolt melted into the doorframe, cooling down almost instantly. Even with constant kicking, the door wouldn’t budge.

Happy’s eyes filled with pure horror. She stood there, using a chair to hoist her up into the vent. Her eyes met his. The regret lasted for about a second before the emotionless facade returned. She smiled, maybe that would ease his nerves.

“What did you just do?” he asked. He tried to keep the fear away, but he was burning with it. Like the metal of the doorknob, he was glowing. The fear smelled sour this time, not sweet, not powerful. It came from someone she cared about and it was directed at her. The fear was there because of her. Happy was scared of her.

She shrugged. She couldn’t stand this any longer. “Goodbye, Mister Hogan.”

The last time she had called him that was the first day she ran into him in the compound, looking for Tony. His heart broke. Clean, straight through. She could hear it crack under her boot as she stomped over it, crushing him like an ant.

He was left with his head hung low, praying, something he had never done before.

When the cops finally broke down the door, Eliza was gone. The vent was shut, and the chair was back where it came from. There was no sign of her other than the melted metal of the door they had just stormed through. And even though he was scared shitless, when he was asked about what happened, if she had been in the room with him, he said no. He didn’t answer. He protected her, as he would until the day he took his last breath.

#matt murdock #daredevil #foreigner's god #matt murdock x original character #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x ofc #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x female!oc #foggy nelson #human disaster matt murdock #matt murdock imagines #mcu characters #daredevil fic #matt murdock fic #charlie cox #marvel #reader insert #ofc

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blitzendoggo · 2 years

Text

Headcanons and Canon info Mass List

Unlike my Ao3 version of this, every time I get new canon info or a new head canon it will be it's own chapter because I won't be using this as a reference sheet.

~~~

This has to be broken into chunks just so I can keep it organized so lets start with:

Places:

Vontral- the main continent and is flat

Riftreach- New York city but in Egyptian style. Built over the rift and everything goes up because going underground is basically illegal

Gada-Yama- Business hub full of Moritermes (termites) with a temple to the death god directly under the mound

Wainua- city that half in the sea

Abellio- TBA, I'll update this once I rewatch the first episode of s2

Ruins of Inanis- TBA, I'll update this once I rewatch the first episode of s2

Aragdus- TBA, I'll update this once I rewatch the first episode of s2

Franklin- Home of the Franklin castle where the "Frankies" are trained. Frankies are really tough mercenaries

Firetounge Outpost- Thought to be a volcano island, is actually a mindflayer lookout/faciality.

Lotterton- nicknamed Slaughterton. Crime town where our heroes started their journey.

Is- Mining town.

Parian- Where the Victora festival happens and Dramaticus (and other famous fighters) live.

The United Federation of Goblin Territories- read the tin. Its a Goblin society that the governments of the world let exist

Bowenburg- Classic fantasy town. Where Glib's magic school was.

Characters:

Glib

Canon:

Poison Dart Frog Vampire

Acidic skin that only affects fabric

Was turned into a vampire in early twenties is pushing thirty

God of Death, maybe?

Glib as a human was painfully average. Just a generic person

Warlock with a (dead) kraken patron

Name has always been Glib

Has a fear of heights that was developed after crashing the bird with Canyon

His slime has a slight blue tint

Maybe has hollow bones (? Panda said it before immediately saying he was bullshitting that)

Body temp is ice-cold

Anger issuesHE'S THE MOST HANDSOME FROG YOU'VE EVER SEEN (rolled a 23 for hotness)

Hates Skeezvol

Headcanon:

Glib has a caffeine addiction, so he drinks blood coffee (coffee made with blood instead of water)

Glib can't touch fabric, so his blankets/bedding are made from furs

When Glib was human, he would run his fingers through his hair as a nervous tick, and its one of the few things he misses about being human (with the others being that he wants pants and to be tall again).

Adopted by a fairly rich Grung family when he was born, which is why they called him Glib.

Grew up in a mansion in the woods

Is always the last one to wake up

Has Gambit-style Cards

Canyon

Canon:

Full name is Mystery of the Canyon

Very Blunt and violent

Is infused with chaos magic

Headcanon:

Sheds constantly

Covers his mouth when he laughs because he used to self-conscious of his sharp teeth.

Puts up a constantly relaxed front, but is much more aware than he acts (hence high intelligence)

Is a decent cook, but will shed in the food

Is not allowed to have caffeine because after being given one cup of mild coffee he had zoomies so bad that Callisto had to "sedate" him with magic

S.G.

Canon:

Genderless-Changeling (with pearlescent white skin) from a village with an unusually high number of psychics (which includes themself)

Master gaslighter

Is allergic to lemonlimes (which is a fruit that grows in Vontral)

Does not have facial features/looks like a mannequin

Massive crush on Captain Mercury

Has a godcomplex

Has a salt lamp Genie named Djarrid

Kermit just lives in their armor

Was homeschooled

Crime background that takes place in Is

Thinks Skeezvol is a 14/20 (possibly because of crown?)

Thinks Human Glib is very average

Is a 7/20 because of no features

Is the God of Wealth now

Considers Glib as her best friend

Headcanon:

She cannot cook to cave her life.

Like nearly burnt down the kitchen trying to boil water levels of bad

Doesn't like coffee and will only drink super sweet teas

Has the best bed, no matter where they go

Mr. Goodbid

Canon:

Half-elf hitman

Has a glorious mustache

Works in contracts

Hates kids

Drinks whiskey

He always smiles (but when he's angry/scared it's thousand-yard stare style)

Loves Pirates and Business

Doesn't actually like bug people, just their city

Has daddy issues (Naethan why?)

His constant smile comes from Dramaticus' persona

Has never missed a Victora festival

Wears contacts

Has a negative 1 to constitution

10/20

Very selfless

God of law

Suit is white with a green tie

ACAB Goodbid

Headcanon:

Full name is Johnny B. Goodbid

Has a massive family and is the oldest of six

His siblings are Garry, Ein, Thomas (who married Linx and has an adopted little girl named Ruth), William, and Mellany

Is an amazing cook and does all the cooking for the team

He owns Capri Suns as a money laundering front that became its own business because it was just that good.

Goodbid either drinks black coffee or sweet-iced tea, no in between

Is traumatized from being attacked by the ghost under Riftreach so it terrified of ghouls

Almost went to train at Franklin Castle, but decided against it

Skeezvol XIX

Canon

An old man, 4'7", human, blind (no eyes), long beard, frail-looking, barbarian

Immortal but will be killed by a mistake made by a frog man

He sees through tremor sense

Is a nat 1

Headcanon:

Lost his eyes while teleporting around, but because he's immortal the surgery didn't kill him

Zalkas

Canon:

6'7" Acid-Dragonborn paladin

From the Order dimension

Has two kids (at least one daughter named Leviathan) who play soccer

Was a commander in the Order Army

Its on-sight when he sees S.G.

Is ridiculous strong

Owns a tavern after accidentally killing the pervious owner

Has a trident and sickles as weapons

Wants to be friends with Glib

Speaks infernal

Scared of bugs (denies it)

Horrible at lying and is very blunt.

Headcanon:

Unofficially adopts Rolf once they return to the tavern

Misses his kids and wife, but does not want to return to the Order Realm

Is completely Asexual and Panromantic but does not understand the difference between romantic and platonic attraction.

Prophis

Canon:

Is an elf chaos God

Is Bisexual

Has a dead(?) sister

dating Callisto (1/2 of Eldritch Gays)

Is a natural 20/20, this man is so hot

Headcanon:

Mom friend

Loves kids

Will shut down Callisto if he starts throwing a tantrum

Loves to sing

Is a morning person

Loves making flower crowns because he and his sister used to make them together when they were young

Palnaros

Canon:

Moves like a marionette

Upside down head

Centipede body

You know your nightmares? Yeah its just that

Headcanon:

Voice is unnaturally high and disjointed

Would hold onto vowels for longer than he should when speaking

When moving he would make a creaking/cracking rubbery sound like stretching dried out leather over old wood and twisting both.

Callisto

Canon:

A very powerful sorcerer

Dating Prophis (other half of Eldritch Gays)

Is also very hot

Is Gay, but respects women

Headcanon:

Is not a morning person in the least

Only likes Prophis' singing

Used to love kids but now tolerates them (they reminded him too much of Prophis for the millennia that they were separated)

Simps for Prophis so much. Like he is a prideful man, but if Prophis told him to bark, he would not hesitate.

Bello

Canon:

Three-foot tall Chaos Butterfly from Not-Here, Chaos Dimension

uses he/they

Eats(?) stars

Wants to find flowers, doesn't know what flowers are

Wings are made up of shifting change-glass

Is kind of oblivious

Speaks Celestial

Likes riding on people's shoulders/head

Slightly illiterate

Headcanon:

Wings have an ever-shifting heat to them that moves with the changing colors

Blob

Canon:

Glib's familiar

Vampire-bat squid

Was sarcastic, is now traumatized

Has a slight stutter that gets worse when he's anxious

Love language is physical touch

Appears out of a puddle that forms under/near Glib with a splash

Headcanon:

Is so traumatized by the kraken's death that he won't leave Glib and when they sleep, he lays on Glib's chest

Doesn't actually leave Glib, too afraid that something will happen to them.

Dramaticus

Canon:

Little Wooden-Puppet Man

Barbarian fighter that lives in Parian

Is a very famous celebrity

It the God of Light

Is afraid of fire

Headcanon:

Was called Pinocchio until he started performing

Aldor

Canon:

God of knowledge

Is dead

Was a stick in the mud

Looked like a really young 80-year-old

Headcanon:

AroAce

Not completely emotionless, but damn close

Reylias

Canon:

Air Genasi

Was the leader of chaos faction

Is the god of monsters

Killed the Kraken

Sociopathichas a chaos sword that can become a whip

Headcanon:

Was raised by Prophis and Callisto but once Prophis was put away in the portal, Callisto couldn't handle raising Reylias by himself so he put him into an ageless sleep until the factions split and Callisto woke him up, changed his memories, and made him the leader of the chaos faction so he could find his dad again

Rolf

Canon:

5'7", skinny, ginger, dark eyed Paladin

Techincally the smartest PC in game

Wannabe Cult Leader

Is 16

Is a shut in

Terrified of bugs

Headcanon:

Gets adopted by Zalkas

Has a single mom and has never had a father-figure

Lady Katarina the (Formerly) Wicked

Canon:

Snow-owlen, beady-red eyes, 3'6", and wears a blood-red cloak

Was an evil lady, had a crisis, and is trying to be better

Is feared by almost everyone

Worked with Mindflayers and thinks they are super sweet and fun/easy to work with

Headcanon:

Loves animals and would never hurt them

Kyland

Canon:

Prophis' dead sister

Died of a sickness

Psychic

Is brought back to life?

She has her memories from before she died.

Headcanon:

She's younger by Prophis, but not by much and Prophis used to braid flowers into her hair when she was upset

Djarrid

Canon:

Pink salt-lamp genie

Vaguely Russian

Licking the crystal results in a chaos affect happening

Doesn't remember his "real" name

Headcanon:

Is afraid of Prophis because he saw him as Palnaros too much

Doc

Canon:

They/Them

Rambles a lot

Has a lizard

Is from the future

Saved S.G. when they were younger

Headcanon:

Is on the Spectrum and is hyperfixated on the dimensions/time travel

Captain Mercury

Canon:

Hot merman

Is the God of the Air

Has a sentient ship named Sky Skimmer

Himbo

Walks by using wooden legs

26-years-old

Headcanon:

Is Gay, therefore doesn't realize that S.G. is flirting with him because he thinks that she knows

Has a slight crush on Goodbid, but is too much of a himbo to realize that its a crush and not just ''extreme friendship"

Barium

Canon:

Gold warforged from Is

Goes by Barry

God of metal

Was stuck as a statue for maybe 700 years?

Headcanon:

While in the statue, he spent his time by singing work songs

Friday

Canon:

White horse with a green mane

God of Fate

BIG GIRL (could fit four people on her back easily)

Headcanon:

She considers Goodbid and SG to be her parents, and that why she wasn't made at them.

Extra Information:

Canon:

Inside Goodbid's briefcase is the main set of the office and it smells like shoe polish and mustache cream

Vontral is flat

There is a star invasion maybe going on?

The Earth Dimension is inhabited by Shadar-Kai (Shadow Fay) and were rule by Skeezvol

Headcanon:

I refer to Goodbid, Glib, Canyon, and S.G. as Team Chaos

Team Chaos is a queer-platonic Polycule. They do not know that they are a queer-platonic polycule and think that every friendship is like this.

Goodbid's briefcase has doors, but all the hallways lead back to the save room.

#d&dorks #pandaredd #sir_superhero #momoiscariot #nikhilclayton #naethan apollo #glib #Mr. Goodbid #s.g. iguess #headcanon #headcanon list #there will be more updates as seperate posts

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zenithrpg · 2 years

Photo

☽ — site premise

The year is 2322.

100 years ago the city of New Zenith was built on what remained of the post-nuclear ruins of Chicago: one of the few surviving cities of the Third World War. In the time that it has taken society to become semi-civilized in the aftermath of nuclear winter, megacorporations led by the ultra rich have risen into leadership, having their hands in food and agriculture, medical and technological innovation, and even going so far as to place their figureheads into political office, solidifying the marriage between corporate tycoons and the so-called democratic government as walls were erected around the city to keep the citizens in and a force field to keep the radiation out.

Day to day life for citizens of New Zenith can be heaven or hell depending on their position in life. Those with the guts or talent to make their way to the top find themselves able to live a life of luxury in the Elysium Towers amongst the elite of New Zenithian society: celebrities and modern day warlords alike. The elites in society have access to the best food, cyberware, and healthcare, often living a life that can seem completely out of touch from reality. The mass majority though live off of corporate scraps barely making enough to skirt by in life, and oftentimes working multiple jobs to earn enough money to keep a roof over their head and synthfood on the table. All people have access to plastic surgery and cybernetic technology, as body modification has become something of a way of life as industrialism and technology took over. In fact, in New Zenith it is now more uncommon to find an “off-grid and unmodded” person than it is to find someone who is nearly completely cyborg. To pass the time, many people turn to virtual reality, colloquially called “braindances” in order to find some respite from the harshness of their day to day life. Some turn to drugs as well, and with that comes a robust black market through which people can acquire all sorts of contraband, antiques, back-alley cyberware, and procure the services of local mercenaries and private detectives for jobs both big and small.

Between eating synthetic food and the after effects of radiation, it is a common problem for citizens of New Zenith to experience organ failures, especially if they are migrating to the city from bunker communities outside of the city in search of a better life. Transplants are accessible to all as developments in medical technology has enabled the mass production of synthetic organs to be readily available, oftentimes coming as a package with cosmetic surgeries to further drive home the idea that one can conquer their genetics and become the portrait of perfection that they’ve always dreamed of being. However, many find themselves signing contracts before reading the fine print of their loans, and with the unstable economy many of New Zenith’s lower class find themselves falling into debt, placing them in bad standing with the Lazarus Corporation which means that they become candidates for repossession: a barbaric practice that is akin to bounty hunting where the indebted are stalked, tracked down, and butchered to reclaim their organs on behalf of the corporate giant. This is a hot topic of debate amongst the citizens of New Zenith as many have been rallying to get organ repossessions banned for decades now, but with the corruption running rampant in the government, legislation has been slow moving.

Still, New Zenith in true corporate fashion keeps everything all smiles on the surface as much as possible, the shiny new tech and robust entertainment industry helping to keep the majority of the population distracted and content enough with the current environment to avoid too much conflict as of yet. But as time goes on, cracks just might be beginning to form in the facade of this growing society.

#animanga rp #site buzz #jcink rp #jcink #supernatural rp #update #nzrpg

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anthonybialy · 3 months

Text

Generation Ex

Experience is the best indicator, which means Democrats ought to be in big trouble. Professional business loathers should be nearly out of business themselves. They think that would prove their point.

The present onslaught of incessant annoyance should create a generation of government-loathers. Every generation ideally faces institutions with institutionalized contempt. Arrogant twits bossing you around hating your attitude is the best reason to maintain it.

People born in every year eventually find themselves old enough to get hassled for not contributing enough to the collective for the sin of existing as an individual. Those taxed in every sense are supposed to be thankful for the privilege, which is naturally exercised involuntarily. You don’t want to risk screwing up a decision with your counterproductive free will.

An extra concentrated dose of harassment from the soullessly monolithic entity that can’t protect you from a rotten flu is not good for any sense of health. Enjoy a full life in your pod where nothing’s legal but cannabis, which is unhelpful for treating symptoms except for shielding oneself from how bad legalizers made everything.

Attempting a sequel of the worst feature isn’t just for Avatar. Unlike a cinema trip, you’re not presented with the option to decline. Contemptuous scorn was a nice touch as compliant liberals mocked your rights being taken as they used absolute power to bungle an infection that would have been properly addressed by chicken soup, DayQuil, and Sprite.

Decree enthusiasts are coincidentally the same pompous dolts who sneer at attempts to outrageously assert that rights and currency are not issued by the government. Office-fillers who don’t know the economy gets worse the more that’s ripped off from it are suddenly experts on epidemiology.

Attempting to stop a virus by imprisoning humans epitomizes compassionate knowledge. Melding the mind with the heart is our ultimate goal, and we should possess enough enlightenment to know whether it actually happens doesn’t matter. Do you want to be a good liberal or not?

A cagey infection found its way around barriers. Panicky fascists were wrong at every single moment about an indifferent escaped bioweapon. China’s ineptness is our best defense. Guilt paired with phrenology-level pseudoscience led to the guilted suckering of getting a shot during the most masked time in history, which differs from getting vaccinated.

Aspiring benevolent dictators require absolute authority to ruin the economy. It’s really your fault if you’re poor for stubbornly refusing to relinquish the last of your petty individual rights. That’s as close as liberals get to personal responsibility.

Trying to avoid tradeoffs leads to the worst deal possible. Existence gets more woeful the more they can control, which almost resembles a pattern. The state’s fans assure us perseverance is all bliss needs. We just need to maintain faith until the breakthrough when treating property as communal lets everyone have as much as they want.

The past few especially pushy years have just been a drugged-out version of normal abnormal federal shadiness. Active bothering leads to widespread lethargy, and this speedball leads to neither speed nor a ball.

Very helpful ushers of prosperity take autonomy on top of your cash. You’re left with the sense of guilt for daring to want to retain funds that you toiled to acquire. Refusing to facilitate corruption constitutes the most shameful audacity.

Present sophisticated theories about authority lead to addresses everything but government’s actual responsibility, which is to halt stampeding barbarians. Liberals are too busy tracking down successful CEOs they deem villains to focus on what they consider inconsequential threats like subway track-shovers and global terror merchants.

Everyone should be sick of being told what to do by people who should be told to not do that. Forced cooperation leads to universal misery. That is not the thing we were told would be shared. Anyone capable of interpreting stimuli can’t possibly still think eliminating choice leads to one glorious option.

The only thing more exhausting than being suspicious of everything is the aftermath of docile trust. Any humans who are unfortunately not cynical by nature better start conditioning themselves.

The good news is that there’s not much training necessary. A few moments on this wretched planet noticing countless infringements on life proceeding normally should be sufficient for incessant rebellion. Instead, baffling state fans are incredulous regarding companies with which they can interact freely while trusting the unaccountable monolith.

Please enjoy ample current ghastly examples for those who think history means switching from the “following” tab to “for you”. Maybe enjoy isn’t the proper word. Claiming to believe in science takes some nerve while ignoring an endless parade of evidence about how surrendering liberty leads to awful morons making dreadful decisions on your behalf.

Trusting authority is the most mortifying conspiracy to believe. Liberal policy creates contempt for liberalism. So, it works in its way. Government doing everything but arresting whoever mugged you leads to getting robbed by those who claim they do so with legal authority. They need your permission. Keep letting them think for yourself if you think they’ve made you richer.

#liberty #suspicion #big government #distrust #state #Constitution

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heavenhatesme · 3 years

Text

The Miracle (1/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader x Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2K

Chapter Warnings: Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Dub-con elements, Forced Orgasm

Summary: When infertility threatens mankind with extinction and there hasn't been a baby for almost 18 years, what happens when two certain super soldiers fall for the same woman and accidentally impregnate her?

18+ minors dni please!!!

A/N: Hi guys! This is my first fic!!! I complete the tags as I write. Also any mistakes are my own. Hope y'all enjoy.

The world has changed.

The sky was darker, the air was dirtier. The silence in the streets was more deafening than any scream. People have fallen into routines. Nothing new happened. And it was all because of one reason.

Human infertility have left society on the verge of extinction.

For nearly 18 years, the shrikes of a newborn haven't been heard, the laughing of kids running in the park has been forgotten.

Although most people blamed females, no one really knew the cause. Doctors never confirmed what the reason was. It just wasn't clear.

The government tried everything in order to produce a child. Their solution was to make people live in two groupes. The infected and the others. The infected lived in ruined buildings, forgotten by the rest of the world. But the others lived wherever they wanted; Although there probably never was a problem with the infected ones. Giving birth simply just stopped happening; In every family, regardless of who they are or where they live.

One of your biggest chances in your life was that when they were separating the infected from the others, you were pushed into the higher category.

You were little when all of this happened. Now, You were a new recruit and lived in the avengers compound. You were going to try to help whatever is left from the world from the past.

It was a noble purpose in this ruthless world.

Young people were trained and learned how to fight. After their training was done, they would be sent on missions all around the world. They helped people in need of shelter and rescue people from human trafficking, they also kept the infected from the others, in the hope of creation of a baby .And That's how you met them.

Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Well nobody dared to call them by their names of course. They were the ones responsible for training the recruits. When you met them for the first time, you felt yourself getting wet only by their voice. They could've had anyone they wanted. So you didn't dwindle on the thought and focused on your training.

But sometimes you thought you were imagining Bucky's lingering gazes and Steve's touches. They would never even spare a glance on a simple girl like you. Of course the world was not the same, but they were surrounded but beautiful women and even men.

So imagine your surprise when they told you they were going to teach you some professional moves in private. Maybe after all this time they had seen something in you; So you saw an opportunity and took it.

You went to the Avengers' personal gym due to Steve and Bucky's insistence. No one other than The Avengers themselves were allowed there; But they told F.R.I.D.A.Y to let you in.

When you arrived, you found Steve and Bucky sparring. Steve's shirt was so tight it seemed it was going to rip off. Bucky was wearing a black tank top that was soaking in his sweat. His hair was out of his man bun flowing around his perfect face. You didn't realize you were staring until suddenly Steve says your name, pulling you out of your haze, "Hi. I didn't know if I should have interrupted you."

"It's okay. Come on in." Steve says panting.

You took a look at them. They seemed nervous. Bucky was the first to breake out of his trance and went to clean his sweat with a towel. You went inside and put your bag on a bench and started taking off your jacket and t-shirt. You heard the men whispering behind you. You didn't dwell on it. All of a sudden, Bucky spoke up "Doll, we need to talk."

You slowly turned around to face them, "Have I done something wrong?" You were searching your mind,trying to find what might have made them upset, but you couldn't think of anything. You always respected them.

You were deeply in thought when Bucky's voice startled you. "Not at all,doll. It's something we wanted to tell you for a time now. We just don't know how to tell you."

You were confused now. "Just tell me."

Steve inhaled and started, "As you know, Bucky and I have been by each other's side for around a century now. He was there for me when no one was and he could simply walk away as well; But he didn't. And I'll always be thankful for him."

Bucky was snickering "Shut up, punk."

Steve didn't take his eyes off you and continued on, "And I'll never let anything come between our friendship. Or anyone."

You were looking between them, baffled. "I'm sorry but I don't see how that's related to me."

Steve looked at Bucky, his eyes pleading with him to continue on. Bucky huffed and slid a hand through his hair and gathered up his courage, "We want you."

You were sure your ears were deceiving you. Did Bucky just tell you he wanted you? No, he told you he and Steve both liked you.

After what felt like hours, you finally managed to stutter "W-what?"

Bucky stepped forward, drawing your attention back to himself. "We don't want to jeopardize our friendship, so if one of us can't have you, the other can't either .But we talked and came to the conclusion that we're both okay with sharing you."

Now that takes the cake. You were gaping at them. Mouth opening and closing like fish. Was this some kind of a prank?Why would they mess with you like this? Do they do this to everyone?

You'd be lying if you said They weren't literal examples of Adonis. They could have anyone they wanted. They were simply the most handsome men you've ever seen. But maybe that's because you weren't exactly looking for a man. With your studies and now your training, you never had the time.

Your friends always told you to loosen up a bit and find someone. You just didn't seem able to communicate or simply flirt with men. But now here you were, in front of these mountains of men, wanting to have you. America's golden boy and Hydra's ex-assassin.

You were deeply in thoght when Steve came forward and stood right in front of you, taking your hand in his. "We talked about this and we know we won't feel jelousy or animosity between one another. We both want you to be our girl, not just a one night thing.We can take it slow to see where it goes,but it all depends on you. What do you say sweetheart?"

You couldn't stay here anymore. They have talked about this and it never accured to them that you might say no. What if you didn't want to be shared. Of course, you'd be lying if you said the thought didn't excite you, but you weren't looking for excitement. You shouldn't have had come here in the first place. With what courage you had left in you,you managed to say, "I-I have to go."

You went to pick up your bag. You didn't see Steve clench his jaw. Nor did you see Bucky's fists opening and closing. You didn't see the look they shared. The look of the last resort.

When you turned around you bumped into Steve's chest. You slowly looked up and found his stormy blue eyes staring back in yours intensely. Your body was frozen.You couldn't move. Your attention was drawn to Bucky when you heard him say "F.R.I.D.A.Y, lock all the gym quarters' doors and activate soundproof system."

You tried to push Steve out of your way but he took your wrists in his hands. Your eyes started to tear up. You were struggling in Steve's hold when Bucky came behind you and put his hands on your waist and whispered, "Shhhh,doll.We're here for you."

Now you started to panic. You could stop your tears anymore and they started to pour down your cheeks. "Please..." You begged, "Pl-please let me go...I won't tell anyone."

Steve's eyes softened at your pleads. He came close and started showering kisses upon your teary cheeks, your brows, your eyelids. His sweet action was calming you. He trailed his kisses to your ears. You wouldn't hear his words if not for the quiet environment, "We're gonna make you feel so good sweetheart."

Then he crashed his lips against yours. You felt his tongue immediately started dominating the kiss. He put his hand behind your head,preventing you from pulling away. The kiss was all teeth and tongue.You struggled and fought to no avail. Your strength was nothing compared to theirs; They're super-soldiers after all.

Your first kiss was supposed to be romantic. But now here you are, kissing Steve back with fever. You have no idea what has gotten into you, but now that you have had a taste, you wanted the whole thing. You wanted him to kiss every inch of your body. You wanted him to lay claim on you. You wanted him.

No, you wanted them.

You completely forgot about Bucky behind you. When you pulled away from Steve, you were breathless. You turned your head to fing Bucky's stormy blue-gray eyes staring deep into yours.

He brought his head down and took your lips in a soft and gentle kiss. His kiss was the exact opposit of Steve's. He licked your lips, asking for permission, you granted it and parted your lips enough for him to slip his tongue and explore the depths of your mouth, dancing around yours.

Steve made himself busy kissing your neck. found your sweet spot and sucked harshly. He was making sure that it would leave a bruise. He wanted everyone to know that you were theirs.

You felt a metal hand wondering on your stomach and found their way in your panties. Bucky's fingers touching your folds, searching for your clit. When he found your pussy already wet and grinding against his metal hand he groaned in your mouth making you moan for the first time.

They both halted their actions,pulling away to look at you. All of a sudden, you came to yourself and started pulling away but they didn't budge.

Bucky's fingers found your clit at the same time and started drawing lazy circles around, making you moan again.

"Fuck doll, do that again." Bucky whispered huskily.

You shook your head no. He doubled his efforts and you couldn't stop yourself. You started moaning a bitch in heat.

Bucky kissed your temple, "Just like that, doll. You're so loud and responsive. Gotta make you moan like that for the rest of my life. Gotta make you scream so the only thing you remember is my name. This is just my fingers on your cute clit, doll. Imma make you cum on my cock."

You felt a coil tightening in your stomach. You'd never orgasmed, after so many failed tries you gave up, but now Bucky's fingers were making you see stars and feel high.

Steve took your earlobe between his teeth and started whispering in your ear, "Look at you, sweetheart; Enjoing yourself, aren't ya? God, I wanna see you come so much. Been dreaming about this for a long time."

You tried to stop yourself from cumming but it was too much, and Steve's words didn't help at all.You screamed when you came. Bucky was still drawing lazy circles around your bud, helping you riding your first orgasm. When you steadied your breathing then you open your eyes and found two sets of eyes watching in adoration, admiring your wet and swollen lips.

Bucky pulled his fingers from your pussy and brought them in front of your faces.they were glistening with your juices. He put his fingers, one by one, into his mouth, humming and licking them clean.

Your eyes were wide and you couldn't look away until you heard Steve clear his throat, "I can't wait to taste you too, sweetheart."

Part 2

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simonsnowichooseyou · 3 years

Text

This excellent essay was posted by @goodbyedandelion and reposted on Instagram—however their account sadly seems gone now. But it is in rememberence of their Tumblr spirit that I post a continuation to their essay!

EVEN MORE Reasons Why Carry On is so groundbreaking as a YA Fantasy/Romance

Misconceptions/Character Complexity

A large topic in YA Contemporary is gossip, but I feel like fantasy doesn’t touch on this as much. Think of how others perceive one another in Carry On. Early on we learn that Simon, for example, saw Penny as different because of her race. But of course, we quickly know this isn’t true.

But what about Agatha? In Harry Potter, for example, Lavender Brown and other feminine characters are often looked down upon because of their femininity. We often as a culture perceive beauty as overcompensation for what’s inside. Sometimes Agatha is looked at in the same light in Carry On, but when we see things from her POV, we realize that Agatha is perhaps the smartest one there. Maybe she’s not Penny Bunce-smart, but she has the survival instincts that Penny lacks.

Agatha isn’t the only one. Baz looks cold and unfeeling from others’ POVs, but we quickly learn that he is a boy with a soft heart that’s been hardened by his past. Everyone thinks he cares about nothing but we know he cares about his mother and how she’d feel about him; his father and step-mother and siblings; Simon, of course; Bunce, in his own way; he even cares about flowered suits and dramatic entrances! We think Bunce is nerdy and perhaps annoying, but we learn she’s very sweet and like a mother to Simon. And the mage. Ugh, the mage. We think he cares about Simon but we learn that for every bit he cares about Simon, he cares about the war more.

Rowell doesn’t allow any character to be simple, stereotypical, or as they appear. My sister, for example, was saying that Baz sounded like a stereotypical gay man in the media. But he’s not, is he? He might love fashion but Rowell does not make him simple or stereotypical. Everyone is so complex, and she uses the multi-POV to not just show us their complexity but also the complexity of how they are viewed by others.

Woman on Woman Drama/Anger

For years and years, only one woman was allowed to have a true seat at the table in films. Take Indiana Jones, the original Avengers, and Star Wars for example. This woman was often made to be the sex appeal or romantic interest, but I’ll save that for another day. Because of there only being one spot, it set a precedent that women in media needed to fight with each other to take that spot, thus depriving us of women getting along!

At first, I was worried Rowell had fallen into this trap. Bunce thinks Agatha is simple and too feminine, Agatha thinks Bunce is a major pain in the ass. Their dislike for one another is complicated in that they’re essentially two different types of feminism battling it out, and half of their fight was about Simon and their roles in his life.

But in the end, Penny and Agatha create a relationship that exists outside of their relationship with Simon. Penny sees Agatha’s strength and resilience; Agatha recognizes Penny’s harsh exterior for what is is. When Agatha moves away, they text without his even knowing. Penny is the one that decides they need to check on and save her. In the end, penny and Agatha fight alongside one another.

Rowell didn’t just give us a feminine friendship—she showed us what we’ve been doing, and how to get from Point A to point B. I think it’s the most underrated part of the series.

True Friendship

It might sound bad, but I truly believe a lot of today’s media ruins the idea of friendship. I just feel like none of the portrayals are realistic. Friends are either joined at the hip and have never fought (toxic) or never get along (also toxic). The fact that Baz and Penny and Simon and Penny and Agatha and Penny can get into fights but still continue to love one another platonically is really heartwarming to me.

Trauma/Mental Illness

I remember getting to the end of Harry Potter and thinking “he went through all of that and we’re just supposed to leave him now?” We see some remnants in the most cursed play ever: The Cursed Child. But more than trauma we see someone who looks back on the days they risked their life everyday with *longing.* While that’s about the most Harry Potter thing Harry Potter has ever done (and the most canonical part of that play) it’s so unrealistic. You’re telling me Harry grew up with nothing and was an amazing father—minus a few spats with his son. You’re telling me Harry was able to hold it together emotionally after fighting for his life from ages 11-18 without a therapists help? You’re telling me Harry lost two father figures in the ministry of magic AND spent 7 years going through what amounted to a lesson titled “the government is corrupt” just to be a part of that government!?

Wayward son isn’t like that. Wayward Son shows us what happened to Simon afterwards, and it’s not peaches and cream. He had therapy, he quit therapy. A lot of us have been Simon on that couch, and we all needed the Baz in our life to drag us across a metaphorical America. Wayward Son is hands-down my favorite book. Realistic depictions of mental illness, check. Subverting our expectations of after the end, check. Reading it feels like taking a road trip, check.

As OP mentioned, Simon is a beloved chosen one because he’s just so wrong for the role. He’s not levelheaded where he should be, he’s bold in all the wrong places, he couldn’t possibly maintain a professional relationship with the coven. Meanwhile his super-hot enemy Baz was the absolute perfect choice to be chosen, but he was completely passed over. And part of this chalks up to how Simon became so powerful—fate isn’t twisting its whims this way and that. Simon is only chosen because he was a Petri dish experiment-gone-wrong baby. When Simon asks the fates why, really he should be asking the mage. There’s something delightful about the fact that Simon was made. The chosen one was made, and in the same process, so was the greatest threat.

De-escalation

I think it’s clear by now that Carry On is a great book, Simon Snow is an amazing series, and Rainbow Rowell sure can write. But I feel the need to point out that the end of Carry On wasn’t well-received by everyone. I recommend the series to everyone I know and some people are really disappointed you don’t get a big magical battle at the end. Some people think Simon filling in the humdrum was a cop out. But I disagree. I felt it was thrilling to witness a book where war was as stupid in fantasy land as it can be in real life. This is the first fantasy I’ve ever read where they find a better way to handle conflict than senseless fighting. It’s emotionally rewarding, to me, to see de-escalation. To see conflicts fixed before they start to be huge problems. It was a risky choice for an end, you have to admit. But Rowell pulls it off amazingly.

Nothing is Wrapped in a Bow

A day will never go by without me thinking about the fact that Simon Snow Salisbury doesn’t know who his parents are. Or how Baz will never know what exactly happened with his mother—whether she really ended herself to avoid vampirism and whether she would’ve done it to her too. We’ll never even quite understand the mage’s plan behind fix the humdrum and get an all powerful boy wizard on his side. Rowell doesn’t wrap everything up. She gives you closure as often as she gives you something to ponder. The ending of Harry Potter was so controversial, I think, because it spelled out so clearly much of what was happening. And what you didn’t learn in that epilogue, Rowling released later through Pottermore and interviews. That’s fine and dandy—but there’s something to be said for ending Simon Snow’s books with questions. Not infuriating questions but rather things that I’ll always ponder—that will shed new light on different situations depending on how I look at them. Rowell sets a precedent that you can fill in Simon’s world with your imagination while also reminding us that life doesn’t have endings. Not really, the way books to. Rowell is one of the few writers of today’s fantasy, I’d argue, who’s okay letting things go unanswered. There’s always a thread of fantasy and magic going. It’s something that will keep Simon alive in my heart for many, many years to come.

So yeah, that’s what I think about when I think about Simon Snow. It’s not nearly as coherent as the original post but I hope you enjoy it.

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the-last-kenobi · 3 years

Note

*kciks down door* ReQuEsTs?!??! uh, 18. “Is it all right if I hug you?” with Obi-wan and character of your choice (please, this boy needs a hug so bad)

Hugs!!!! What an excellent ask.

Took me forever to pick a character though. I came this close to writing multiple hugs throughout the years but it would’ve been very long...

It’s still long. Whoops.

Note: I skipped the actual sentence and instead went for ✨vibes only✨

(From this various prompts list.)

Obi-Wan is twenty-three standard years old, very nearly twenty-four.

It is a delightful stage of life. (It’s awful.)

He’s growing in independence, so close to Knighthood he can almost taste it. (Is he? Nobody seems to have a clear opinion.)

He’s receiving more and more solo assignments, and on his missions with Master Jinn, the older Jedi makes an effort to at least await the Padawan’s input before making a decision, sometimes even deferring to Obi-Wan’s word. (Only in public, though, is there a sense of equality. Behind the scenes, Obi-Wan is still very much the learner.)

He longs to be free. (He doesn’t want to be alone.)

The confusing clash of thoughts and emotions is, in and of itself, a creator of more clashing emotions, all resulting in a bundle of self-doubt that crouches near his heart, like a greedy bird, picking away at his strength and certainty when he most needs it.

Doesn’t your doubt show you that you’re truly not ready? the pestering creature asks.

Doesn’t your longing for freedom prove you don’t deserve it? it says, tapping against the veins of ice and fear that lie right against the heat of his heart.

Doesn’t your need to be reassured tell you that you’re too hesitant, too weak to be alone?

His desire to fly is wrong. His desire to be sheltered, even more so.

Both together, coexisting in his heart and mind, could quite possibly mean the one thing he had been dreading for over a decade now, the thing older Jedi, real Jedi, had put into words and addressed to his face when he was only twelve, only eleven, only ten.

You are too emotional, they said.

You are overeager, they said.

You are not destined to be a Jedi, Qui-Gon had told him. I will not train you.

He had, in the end, and Obi-Wan has been wondering in the depths of his heart for all these years of it had not been a dreadful mistake. As much as the Force sings in his ears Jedi, Jedi, Jedi, endure, Jedi, Jedi, it felt like everything he touched, everything tangible, argues back failure, weak, selfish, foolish, unwanted, not fit.

Obi-Wan is twenty-three, almost twenty-four, and he is years into adulthood and light years away from proving that he’s capable of handling it.

When will he be Knighted?

Nobody seems to be expecting it from him.

Do they know, he wonders, have they known since the beginning that I am doomed to fail? Has this all been a gracious attempt, a thank you for my actions on Bandomeer, and they have drawn this out and out and out as long as they can?

How much longer can this go on?

Still, there are moments when he is at peace, when Obi-Wan is sure. When he meditates, when he accomplishes something new, when he walks away from an assignment feeling unashamed when he translates his memories into a tidy mission report.

When he has one of his long talks with Master Yoda, or Master Windu, who despite their revered status have taken to talking to him more like a friend than a child, outside of the Council chambers.

When he remembers the Force whispering inside, Jedi Jedi Jedi Jedi, endure, Jedi...

And then, on one of the missions assigned to both himself and his Master - still the overwhelming majority of his assignments - he and Qui-Gon are separated during a violent uprising.

There are bodies in the streets and buildings are aflame; children weep over the bodies of their parents and parents cradle the bodies of their children and scream as if the sound is their only companion left in the world. The standing government has a point, the rebellion has a point, the civilians caught in the crossfire don’t say which point they agree with because they’re too busy screaming and perishing, and Qui-Gon is simply gone.

Obi-Wan, faced with the threat of further bloodshed right here and right now even as the air is still clogged with ash and flame and as another body topples from a rooftop in front of his feet, raises his hand in surrender and calmly proposes a truce, offering himself as a legal hostage against the government that brought the Jedi here.

Obi-Wan is led away with his hands bound behind his back and his lightsaber taken away, and though his face is calm, the furrow between is brow speaks of his inner turmoil, which sounds like tapping against the cracks in his heart and Qui-Gon, where is Master Qui-Gon, I don’t know what I’m doing, if I fail more people will die, if I fail it will be my fault, is this taking charge or stepping aside, am I a leader or a victim?

He spends not days, not weeks, but three standard months as a hostage. He spends a terrible amount of time sitting in a cell and pondering his uselessness, the gravity of his foolishness, but every time someone opens the door and escorts him out to hold parley with the leaders of the rebellion and the ministry of the planet, he holds his head high, tempers his fear, and speaks to them with all he has.

Which is honesty. Humility.

You don’t know what to do, he says. Neither do I.

We all know we must do something. No matter how much blood you spill and how much earth you scorch you will eventually come back here to this table to have this same discussion until either both of you are broken beyond belief or one of you has been crushed, and half your planet’s voice stolen away. And you will have sacrificed two of the Republic’s Jedi along the way, a black mark against whichever victor is left standing.

Or, he says, we choose to pass over the violence and talk here and now, and choose this again and again and again. You have already had your fighting. Your people are already hoping for negotiation.

Are you here for their sakes or to kill them for show?

He does not use these exact words.

He sews them into his brief speeches, hammers in the point sharply when he must, weaves the common thread over and over again.

He knows they fight while he is locked away.

But he believes, from the growing respect in the eyes of these people who hold him both by his and against his will, that he is making a difference. He must be.

And Obi-Wan is twenty-three, very very nearly twenty-four, when he finally walks free to witness the signing of a treaty like this planet has never had before, to witness the formation of a new government, and he discovers not ashes and mass graves when he sees daylight for the first time in three months — but instead, a city and a planet marred only by scattered battlefields, and marked more clearly by the way its people have fought to keep it clean, to keep it safe.

Children race through the streets, unafraid, because they have had real shelter during the war. It has not entered their homes since that first terrible day.

Neighbors from opposing sides of this fight and friends who staked no claim in this war mingle freely. Their smiles are a little hesitant, but they are there.

The dead are all honored equally.

It is leaps and bounds, it is a civilization that propelled itself through years of struggle in three months, and Obi-Wan is awed by them.

He knows it cannot be this way everywhere.

He knows that there will be wars where no one wants to surrender, or where one side will be so certain of their point of view that they would rather raise hell than cease, and he knows there will be people who resist them.

But today it is real.

Obi-Wan looks at his pale and clammy hands, the marks around his wrists where he was so often bound, and feels the way his limbs shake from months of too little sunlight, not quite enough food, and more than his share of fear and doubt and self-recrimination.

As he smiles for a camera that will record this moment forever, he glimpses Qui-Gon amongst the crowd.

Someone explains to him, when he asks, that his Master had been injured during the uprising and spent the first three weeks of Obi-Wan’s captivity in convalescence. The remaining time, he has spent on the sidelines, forced there by his Padawan’s actions. With Obi-Wan a willing hostage, playing negotiator and leverage both, Qui-Gon had no role except to mingle with the people, offer them comfort and aid.

Something Obi-Wan knows his Master loved, but — he had still stolen his Master’s role.

He had thrown himself into a stupid, foolish situation, and how many times had Qui-Gon teased him about playing damsel in distress? And here he has gone and surrendered of his own accord. What would Qui-Gon have done if Obi-Wan had led them all to ruin?

Obi-Wan slowly loses his confidence, his relief, his silver tongue, as the press and the people recede, and he and his Master walk to a room that has been prepared for both of them, as honored guests by this new government.

Qui-Gon says nothing to him.

They walk in silence for twelve minutes.

And then, as soon as the door has shut behind them, Obi-Wan finds himself pulled into a fierce embrace, one of his Master’s hands buried in his hair, Qui-Gon’s chin resting atop his head.

Obi-Wan hesitates.

Does his Master think him a child?

Perhaps Qui-Gon senses his thoughts, because the man pulls away briefly, still holding his Padawan by the shoulders, as if unwilling to let him go completely, else he vanish like smoke.

“Padawan,” Qui-Gon says, and his voice is loud and strong and brimming with warmth that washes over Obi-Wan like sunlight, like water, like an embrace. “Well done, my Padawan.”

And then he is pulled again into Qui-Gon’s comforting arms, and Obi-Wan breathes in and gives in, folding against his teacher like a child, and if a few tears stain Qui-Gon’s robes or drop into Obi-Wan’s hair, neither of them speaks of it.

Obi-Wan lets his Master hold him, lets go of fear and pride and doubt, and finds that he is safe.

#star wars #my writing #star wars fic #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #qui gon and obi wan #master & padawan #padawan obi wan #look they are just a slightly repressed and off kilter #father and son #that is all #hugs #hugs!!!#more hugs needed #tw blood #tw death #tw bomb #tw war #tw child death

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wh6res · 3 years

Text

chase — renhyuck

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

tw bullying, violence, swearing, yandere themes, possessive themes, blood, weapons (a gun, a grenade), implied noncon, implied kidnapping, mentions of stalking

disc i dont condone this behavior

wc 5k

‏‏‎ ‎

29 hours before the annual purge

“hold her down—i said hold her down, idiot!”

putting everything into account, they saw you more like a glorified chew toy than an actual person.

they ruined your life simultaneously and it's ironic, that despite being sworn rivals, it seems you were their neutral ground—after one has had their own fun, you’re passed on to the other person so they can deliver that final, shattering blow that weakens your resolve.

it was meant to be that way because it had always been that way. you’re the unlucky loser that ignited the worse sides of both lee haechan and huang renjun.

they’re like oil and water; they don’t mix but with you, they found a compromise. stealing your lunch money, trashing your homework, quickies in between lectures. all of these should’ve been enough to give them a good power trip. but they’ve developed a hunger so severe that these past instances are but mere crumbs that hardly satisfy their cravings.

it was beyond exhausting, being caught in between two headstrong people that were unwilling to back down at any cost. their aggression and anger towards each other directly being channeled onto you as they shove and swing you around like some ragdoll.

you weren’t a bunch of kids, you knew that. you don’t cry and sob and say that it’s unfair, you hold your chin high and walk up to the guidance counselor’s office to report them for bullying. but you never should’ve underestimated the power of money and their respective families’ broad network of connections.

without a doubt, the empty promises for justice is what broke your heart the most. it breaks with every bruise, every tight grip, and every nasty name the people willingly turned a blind eye to.

it’s sad but it was a reality you taught yourself to get used to—the meek mouse learning how to evade the cats hot on her trail.

but you weren’t as lucky today.

“i am holding her down.”

a pair of lips comes in contact with your neck. its feathery and light at first until its biting down to mark you with his teeth. not too strong to draw blood, but enough to dent the surface of the skin.

haechan has an oral fixation. biting his lips. his nails. whenever you see him, he always has a lollipop on his mouth and if he doesn’t, he’s painting hickeys across your skin. you hated his oral fixation, especially when makeup and clothes proved useless to hide the marks he gives you.

“why run?” renjun asks you, slipping his fingers underneath your skirt as he kneels. “you know you have nowhere to hide in the campus.”

haechan snorts. “or anywhere else.”

it’s always the same thing. you go to school. you sit in your first period for thirty minutes until one of them shows up. then the other boy probably felt a gut instinct that he’s missing out on the fun. last time, it was an empty classroom in the abandoned left wing.

they like taking you there all the time, it was always dark, the blinds pulled and shut tight. not to mention it was incredibly dusty. but both male knew you’re afraid of the dark, exactly why it’s their favorite spot. but empty classrooms and supply closets are close seconds, too.

“you’re so pathetic. useless—only know how to whine like a fucking pornstar,” he quickly comments, feeling you arch against him when renjun’s tongue comes in contact with the pearl between your legs. “my cumdump.”

you feel a sharp exhale against your lower lips. you shudder. renjun clicks his tongue in annoyance. “can you shut up? you’re making my dick soft with all that talking.”

but haechan had ignored him completely, blissfully ignorant of the petite boy’s frustrations as he angles your head up to crash his lips onto yours. when he slightly pulls away, still playfully nibbling your bottom lip, what he said next made your blood run cold.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6 hours before the annual purge

the price to pay for protection started rising again this year and you, much like your neighbors, are in a sense of turmoil. jamming the doors with cabinets and nailing your windows with wood is hardly enough to satisfy the gnawing feeling in your stomach. much less when you didn’t even have a weapon to wield other than a wooden bat and a cheap taser you bought on sale.

“its not like anyone will be coming for you, right?” the little girl says, touching the randomest stuff in your apartment. her name was naeun and she never really liked pink and sparkles like most girls her age, maybe that’s why she took a liking to you.

her mom works a 9 to 5 and her grandma stays with her on occasion. but the old lady loved to sleep, naeun said, so she gets the chance to slip out and come knocking on your door. you tried shooing her out of your apartment countless times but she’s stubborn.

she reminds you of yourself.

“well, i hope no one does.” you joked, putting on a turtleneck.

naeun’s mom doesn't like you as much as it is, but if you yourself let naeun see the bruises on your skin? you’d hate yourself forever. “now, come on little missy, go back to your grandma. i need to head over to the bank to settle my protection fees.”

“but you just said no one is going to come for you anyway,” she whines stomping towards the door. “mom already settled ours yesterday becase grammy forced her to. mommy said it was just a waste of money because who’d bother to rob us anyway?”

a memory flashes in your head. two boys who’ve sandwiched you between them in the dark of a fucking supply closet at uni. wandering hands, labored whispers, curt giggles, one pair of lips trailing up your neck while the other up your inner thigh.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

you needed that protection. that was no slip up because haechan never makes mistakes. if he wanted to make you feel like some animal on the run after catching a whiff of trouble then he sure is doing a good job.

“hey! i think you just went someplace else there,” naeun says, nudging your side irritably to get your attention again.

you try forcing out a chuckle but it doesn't work, still deeply peeved by a memory from last week replaying vividly in your mind. if they ever mean what they meant (which you know they do) then this is now more than just trying to get through the night—you have to survive, prepare, and pray neither of them finds you.

“i think your grandma’s right in doing what she did, naeun. with humans, you’ll never know.”

and just like that naeun went silent, bid you goodbye, and disappeared behind the apartment door.

the bank was a quick walk from your apartment. you hardly broke much sweat and you even managed to stop by the grocery store to make some last-minute runs. the store’s nearly empty, deserted of any human being as the seconds slowly but surely ticked away. it was only when you walked past aisle seven did you pause, the hairs on your back standing as a slow chill crawled up your spine.

you look over your shoulder.

no one’s there.

you swallow, quickly looking down your watch to check the time as you made your way to counter. 3 hours before the annual purge. you needed to get your ass moving. you just need to grab one more thing and you’ll best be on your way.

you practically ran towards the dairy section and just as you spin around, strawberry ice cream pint in your hands, you jump as he appears before you in thin air and you drop whatever you’re holding.

“such a skittish little kitten,” renjun clicks his tongue, bending down to retrieve the ice cream on the floor. “here you go.”

you couldn’t even stare at him in the eye. your hands shook but it wasn’t because of the cold desert. now you get it. it’s his eyes you felt on you earlier, ever intrusive and piercing as he watched you from afar. was he stalking you?

“i didn’t quite catch a thank you, kitty.”

how foolish of you to think he’ll let you duck away without at least speaking to him, hm?

“thank… thank you?”

renjun grins, satisfied with your stuttering as he raises a hand to ruffle your hair—he ignores how you flinched away from him—before walking away with one hand in his coat pocket, whistling an eerie tune that can haunt your nightmares way after purge night.

“see you later, kitten.”

if it wasn’t the whistling that set you on edge or that clear promise of your doom—it’s the pack of zip ties and duct tape in his hands.‏‏‎ ‎

you were watching a rerun of your favorite morning reality tv when it cuts to the dreaded blue screen showing the flag of korea.

this is not a test.

this is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the south korean government.

weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the purge. all other weapons are restricted.

commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.

police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7 am when the purge concludes.

may god be with you all.

you’ll never get used to the blaring siren that echoes through the empty streets. you can feel the floor vibrating and it travels throughout your whole body as the dread starts sinking deep into your skin.

you’ve already double checked all your windows and the front door. activated the security system provided by the bank. and you’ve also already charged your taser and have hammered down nails into your wooden bat. fine. if they wanted to scare and bully you into a panicked frenzy, it did its job but fuck no will you go down without a fight.

you shut all the lights, the apartment basking in the moonlight glow brought by the translucent curtains as you make your way to your bedroom, nearest the emergency exit just in case they barge through your front door by force.

at first, nothing happened. it was peaceful. tranquil. you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it was. both inside and outside. you were almost tempted to cover your mouth in case you were breathing too loud.

it’s silent. until it wasn’t.

your phone rings. it’s there, vibrating on your desk and you make long strides until you’re face to face with a set of numbers on your screen. an unregistered contact. there’s a debate inside your head whether to answer it or not, fingers hovering between the red and green button… until it eventually lands on the green.

you put it up to your ear, hands sweating as you wait with bated breath for the person on the other end to speak.

“kitten?”

it’s renjun. you don’t answer.

“i can hear you breathing, you know. i can’t wait to see you. we’ll have so much fun together. it’s sad that i have to share with that imbecile but better half of you than nothing of you, right?” he laughs and you feel a rush of anger surge through you. yet, you don’t bother to give him the satisfaction of a reply.

“i can see you’re angry, little kitty. while it’s cute and hot… don’t be. turn that frown upside down for me, wouldn’t you?”

but the blinds are drawn he couldn’t have seen you—

“you’re never going to get me, you fucking bastard. i’m not scared of you,” you sure do hope he can’t hear the tremble in your voice. “whatever you plan on doing to me, you’ll fail.”

you walk back slowly, eyes darting everywhere to look for a camera they could’ve installed in your room. they have connections and the money to do it so you won’t put it past them.

“oh, my stupid kitty. how can we fail when we already got a head start?”

the floorboard behind you creaks and before you could turn around, someone slams your head against the desk. you hear a crack, whether it’s the screen of your laptop or your nose, you couldn’t tell. the person is agile and silent as he maneuvers you to the ground and seals your lips with duct tape.

“after all,” haechan giggles. “you can’t lock out what’s already inside, kitten.”

your phone lands somewhere near your head. renjun has already dropped the call and the line goes silent.

squirming, you glared at the person on top of you. is this how you’re gonna go? you can’t deny, even you yourself find this pathetic. the security alarms you bought, the nail-studded bat, your taser, everything was all for naught? just because you didn’t check under your bed to make sure no one was there?

how long was haechan waiting? when naeun was still here? when you went out to buy groceries?

you thought it would be fear you’ll be feeling as you get caught but the emotion isn’t present at all. instead, it’s white hot anger that overrides your system and forces you to act without thinking—and it just fucking saved your life.

haechan always saw you as a vulnerable, sad little human being who couldn’t do shit on her own. it’s easy to underestimate you and that’s his first mistake.

the second is rather foolish—not tying your legs up first. it’s all too easy to slam your forehead against his before jerking your leg up to knee him in the balls.

you can see the anger in his eyes clear as day as you made a run for it to the kitchen, having come up with another escape plan—because surely if you went down the emergency exit, haechan would’ve caught up easily with those long legs after he’s recovered from your assault.

your nose was probably bleeding and your head is in the early stages of a full blown migraine, at least you were able to function enough to wobble your way towards the trash chute situated near the stove. you had cursed that chute the first day you moved in here (who would put a trash chute next to a fucking stove) but the day has come for you to thank the gods that you have that in your house.

going for a swim in all your neighbors’ trash is disgusting and unplanned (plus, falling down maybe six floors to your doom) but you’ll choose that over lee haechan and huang renjun any day.

“don’t you dare fucking think about it!”

you flashed him the middle finger to tick him off. a petty retaliation for all the bullshit he and renjun put you through but it felt good nonetheless.

“catch me if you fuckers can.”

and you were falling down the trash chute.‏‏‎ ‎

okay, yeah—maybe you should’ve thought it through before hurling yourself six floors down only for some half-filled dumpster to catch you but at least you’re still alive, right? alive and free, mind you. but you don’t have time to celebrate.

it smelled awful and you swear your knees and elbows are bruised but you scramble to climb out and run away as fast as you can.

it was only haechan inside your apartment. no sign of renjun but he did see you somehow and you have no doubt it was a camera inside that room. you didn’t have much time to ponder for how long they were installed in your room. it’s the least of your worries at the moment.

you’re outside.

during purge night.

even if you did manage to escape it felt more like a win than a lose, forced out of your own apartment in nothing but shorts and a shirt—heck, you don’t even have shoes on!—it felt like they won. again.

if you’re not going to die in the hands of some other wacko, you’ll die of hypothermia. how nice.

you didn’t know where you were running to, the only thing you knew was you need to get the hell out of this neighborhood as fast as you can. you didn’t want to run in alleyways and risk getting stabbed for fun. maybe the sewer system… oh, right. you don’t have your phone on you and it’ll probably be pitch black down there.

you really, truly, genuinely didn’t want to run so out in the open but it was the best you can impulsively come up with.

when you feel like you’ve put a reasonable distance between you and the apartment, you stop, hands resting flat on your knees as you crouch to catch a breath. just as quick the adrenaline appeared as fast as it had disappeared. you feel the weight and tension crushing your legs, not to mention you’re really starting to feel that headache settle after headbutting haechan.

you almost collapse against the brick wall.

the last person you ever thought you’ll see jumps out from the corner of the alleyway and you almost broke their nose.

until you saw who it was.

“NAEUN?”

their apartment got raided, some buffy sickos who they had the misfortune of breaking into their house to purge. luckily they got away, but after getting attacked on the streets, naeun got separated after she ran for her life just like you did. you can’t help but feel sorry for the little girl, who experienced the full effect of this godforsaken holiday.

this is bad. you can’t leave her but it’s tough enough to have to fend for yourself. you’re not so sure whether you can protect another human being but you’ll have to try.

“did your mom or grandma tell you anything? anything at all?” you ask, crouching to her eye level. “you said your mom knew the way… where? what do you mean?”

“mom said they’re providing refuge on the other side of town but it’s a 30-minute drive. walking would take longer.”

shit. you didn’t want to risk it. you don’t have a car and you’d rather die right here right now than walk another step out in the streets—

“who’s ‘they’?”

“i don’t… i don’t know. she didn’t say.”

you licked your chapped lips. you can’t trust what she’s saying, not when you didn’t even know these people. it’s too risky, not to mention you’re already running from not one, but two people.

naeun sits next to you against the bricked wall of the alley, looking down at her lap. “i’m scared,” she admits. you hear a tremble in her voice. “are mom and grammy de—”

“no,” you cut her off, pulling her tiny body against yours. when you feel her fists clutching your jacket, you swear to protect this girl with your life. “no, they’re not. i’m sure they’re heading there now to the refuge center just like we are.”

her head pokes out, looking up towards you. “we’re going? i thought you didn’t want to.”

you shake your head, wiping her tears. “well, it’s the one way for you to meet your mom and grammy, right?”‏‏‎ ‎

walking down the streets during purge night—man, this has got to be the most ballsy thing you’ve ever done after that one time you spat at renjun in the eye. you managed to find a litter of bodies way into thirty minutes of walking and you nearly sent naeun flying onto the asphalt with how hard you pushed her back. she couldn’t see this mess, you’d be damned to allow a nine-year-old walk right into psychological trauma.

you pocket a gun—you didn’t have enough courage to fight with a knife. you wiped the blood off using your shirt before shoving them down onto the garter of your shorts. you didn’t bother to take their shoes, none of them would’ve fit you anyway and it’ll just slow you down.

“hey, are you alright? is that blood—”

“it’s not mine, naeun. come on, let’s get moving.”

for two hours you walked towards this mysterious refuge center on the other side of town and both you and naeun managed to evade death three times.

the first attack: a group of high schoolers with their uniforms on. there were three of them, about your height, and while you weren’t responsible for the blood on your shirt, you’re not so sure about their lot. they looked crazy, excited even, but sloppy in the way they flung their knives and bats around. their first purge, you assumed, so it was fairly easy to take them down. a bullet to the head worked like a charm. naeun didn’t say anything when you urged her out of her hiding place to flee the scene. three bullets left.

the second attack: it was a surprise, one that got you stabbed in the shin of your right leg. it was a drunkard with a knife, you could smell him as you walked past by his slumped form in the sidewalk. he wasn’t moving, so you thought he was dead and it was poor judgement on your part. it’s pathetic getting injured this way, you thought, but at least it was you who faced the consequences and not naeun. two bullets left.

the third attack: two men but deadlier than the girls and the drunk. you didn’t get to reason out with either of them, not when they drove their cadillac at 140 miles per hour and nearly ran you over. a chill crept up your spine when you saw the bloody, naked women strapped down onto the hood. victims. you didn’t engage in any form of combat, it’s impossible, so you took naeun in your arms and ran straight to the back alleys. number of bullets remain the same.

three lucky strikes.

three times you’ve cheated death.

but time is up and your luck has run out.

“beating up a girl? what a coward, if you ask me,” you say, spitting out a tooth after someone kneed you in the face. you were in no position to say such things when they’ve got you busted up and bloody, left eye swollen after one hard punch.

naeun is nowhere to be seen.

good.

who knows what these assholes could’ve done to her. you told her to run so she better fucking run and make sure she lives through this nightmare.

another kick flies to your ribs and you lie sprawled on the dirty pavement of an alleyway—what an uncool way to die but at least you’ll die with a clear conscience.

you passed by city hall a few minutes ago. surely, the refuge center is not too far from there. naeun will make it safe. she’ll make it.

“what’s that look on her face? is she dead?”

another one scoffs. “well… if they’re after her then she’s as good as dead.”

you blacked out. ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

you hate the scent of disinfectant. it crawls up your nose and you hate how the stench is so strong you can taste it on your tongue. this isn’t heaven, not when you know you’re better off burning in hellfire.

unless you weren’t dead—your eyes shoot open, sitting up in haste as you clutch the thin blanket.

rows upon rows of the same cot you were lying on greets you. people injured, some standing, some sitting. there were people treating them, too, but they were in normal clothes so this can’t be a hospital. in fact, it looked like you’re in some warehouse, stacks of metal crates sealing off all entrances.

“it’s the refuge,” you whisper.

“you’re awake!” before you could even turn around, a body launches itself onto you and nearly makes the cot collapse. judging by the small frame and the pitchy voice—

“naeun, be careful!” her mother hisses but the girl in between your arms couldn’t care less. if she’d been an adult, she’d be squeezing the life out of you. when she pulls you closer, your healing ribs made a strike of pain surge through you.

you groan, bowing in the pain. distantly, you can hear the mother and daughter fighting and it was a banter you’ve never experienced with your own mom. it nearly made you tear up from the overwhelming wave of emotions you were feeling but all else disappears when a person tenderly grips your shoulder.

“thank you for taking care of my granddaughter.” the old lady was smiling appreciatively as she stared at you.

that was it. it could’ve been the happy ending to a gruesome and bloody storyline—it should’ve been, family of three reunites again and that was all thanks to you, right?

but even heroes have their own bad endings.

you heard the ticking of the grenade only seconds before it detonates. the other refugees didn’t even have the time to take cover as some closest to the sealed doors were sent flying so far back they crashed into the row of crates behind you.

you were severely injured, limping, ribs broken, and you only had one good eye to rely on—yet the first thing you thought of was protecting naeun. maybe the midget had a way of worming herself into your heart. but before you even push yourself off the cot, a figure emerges from the smoke.

petite and harmless, pretty as the tips of his hair grazed porcelain cheekbones. renjun’s eyes are as cold and calculating as can be and it’s the only thing that terrifies you to no end. when he opens his mouth, anger is hidden well underneath that calm tone.

“i’ll give you one minute to come here willingly.”

there’s no room for bargain, he needn’t when he knows you have absolutely nothing to offer him but yourself. he doesn’t finish his sentence but he trusts you’re smart enough to figure out the silent threat—come, or he’ll turn this place into a fucking bloodbath.

cornered and weak, defenseless. weird how they have a fixation for calling you ‘kitty’ when they’re the cats in this chase.

“naeun,” you whisper, trying to crane your neck to look for her in the filth of rocks and debris. please don’t be hurt.

you freeze when you feel a barrel pointing at your head. it was only there for seconds, haechan probably doesn’t have the guts to hurt you in any way permanently (unless it’s inflicted with his own hands and not through some other medium).

“ah, look. now we have matching black eyes,” he giggles like a madman, craning your neck up and the leather in his globes brings discomfort to your skin.

you see the way the other refugees looked at you—scum, dirt on their feet that brought about trouble in their lives. they were already badly hurt as it is and now, this happened? you don’t blame them.

not one man tried to stand up for you as haechan hauls you up and throws you down on renjun’s feet. your ribs were screaming and you’re cold and so, so afraid. with shaky fingers, you gestured towards the crowd. “just... please, don’t hurt them. they don’t have anything to do with this.”

renjun coos. such a cruel smirk for a pretty face. “aw, such an angel my darling is. always thinking of others instead of her own safety. funny because i don’t think you’ve ever done such a thing for me and haechan, though. i wonder why...”

the latter digs his heel in your injured legs and you scream as black starts to surround the corners of your vision. you tried to crane your neck back, pleading eyes wanting to look at the assaulter but renjun’s calloused hand is gripping your chin too tight.

“should we make a bargain, kitten?”

you stare deep into renjun’s eyes. he knows you don’t have anything left, he can see it in your glassy eyes, too wide and vulnerable. he’s doing this all for show, trying to make you even more desperate and self-aware of your eventual demise.

and you thought haechan was the only cunning one.

“what… what bargain?"

renjun practically gleams in pride. “i’ll let everyone walk free—even your precious little naeun—that’s her name, right? the little girl you’ve been protecting the whole night?—we’ll let her and everyone in this building walk away unharmed. that’s my bargain. you know how those work, right? now, you need to give me something i want.”

forcing you to offer yourself up to them.

what a brutal way to crush your pride.

choice wasn’t an option. if you don’t oblige and choose to run away on your own, they’ll kill them and still hunt you down. you gotta say, it was a tempting bargain that appealed to the sense of heroics in your heart. naturally, you have to choose where there is less blood shed. and as renjun lets go of your chin and lets you look over your shoulder to meet little naeun’s eyes, how she sobbed against her mother’s arms and shook her head and screamed…

“hurry, kitten. i don’t like to be kept waiting.”

you know what needs to be done.

“me. i’ll give you… me.”‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎

they stood playing a game of pool in the dead of night. it’s peaceful inside the estate while the city beyond rampaged and burned. they achieved their goal, had finally seen an end to a plan that had been set in motion for years. they’ve succeeded and the broken woman lying on the bed meters from the pool table is proof of their victory.

“don’t you just love it when an elaborate plan works like clockwork, injun?” he asks, voice like trickling honey as he hits number 9 with the cue ball.

the other, more petite male, rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree. “oh, please, people like us always triumph, donghyuck. it’s nothing new. although i am surprised that little girl and her so-called “family” played along so well. almost had me fooled.”

“i agree. it's such a shame they had to go.”

‎

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suite43 · 3 years

Text

this was a commissioned peice of writing for @princemai . If you're interested in a commission, dm me!

Adjusting to life after the war was never going to be easy. How do you coexist with the people who've been trying to kill you for millions of years? It didn't take a nihilist to think that the peace wouldn't last.

Bumblebee counted himself pleasantly surprised that, well, something seemed to last. Peace wasn't the right word, but at least it was less "endlessely killing each other" and more "the entire universe hates us and we can't really blame them". But for the most part, these days, things were peaceful.

That didn't mean it was easy.

You wouldn't call it easy to wake up next to the closest thing you'd ever had to an arch-nemisis wrapped around you. You wouldn't quite know what to do with the fact that as much as he hates to admit it, he's afraid of the dark. And you wouldn't blame yourself for waking up sometimes afraid that you'll find a knife at your throat.

It wasn't easy. But it was peaceful, more or less. Because when Starscream kissed him in that way he did almost every morning, gentle and still half-asleep, Bumblebee could nearly forget he'd ever thought of the mech next to him as dangerous, and a part of him would wonder why it hadn't always been like this.

But then they get up, and the day would go on, and even though there's peace now, there's a lot of history, and Bumblebee can't help but feel like they're both just waiting for everything to turn sideways.

Bumblebee wants to trust Starscream. And he does, on some level at least. Immensely so. Enough to have trusted him with the fate of the universe. But every argument, every time the banter hits just a little bit too close to home, every time Starscream slips back into a crueler, more violent version of himself, Bumblebee wonders to himself if maybe this is it. After all, it wasn't really that long ago that they were shooting at each other.

Starscream has the same thoughts. Obviously, he won't admit it, but it's easy enough to see through his acts once you know him well enough - When did Bumblebee start to know him well enough? How the hell did that happen? It all feels so fast - But sometimes when there's a certain tension in his wings and his fingers curl up ever so slightly and his eyes shoot around, planning his escape, Bumblebee knows that Starscream is just as scared as he is.

It's not always like that. There are moments when they're alone where it feels like none of that matters. They sit together on their couch and they're quiet as they both do their own thing, and Bumblebee shifts to lean against Starscream's shoulder and Starscream wraps one arm around him, his hand idly tracing small circles on Bumblebee's plating, and it just feels right. Bumblebee feels more safe there than anywhere in the universe, curled into the side of one of the most dangerous people in the universe. In a moment like that, he'd tear his spark out and put it in Starscream's hands if he asked him to.

But... It wasn't that long ago that he watched people he loved die at those hands. Those same strong, clever hands that slotted perfectly into his like they were built that way, like everything in their lives had led them to this specific touch. Bumblebee wasn't a big believer in destiny but sometimes everything would line up just so, and if he'd been slightly more of a romantic he'd've called them soulmates.

It was this confusing blend of love and hate, of forgiveness and grudge and grief and adoration that didn't make sense at all and yet when Starscream knows exactly what to order him when they go out it makes perfect sense. And, somehow, it works out.

They've never really talked about... well, whatever this is. It's clearly a relationship, at this point. It's hard to argue for 'just friends' after that many rounds of... well, you know what. It's equally as hard after catching each other after god-knows-how-many nightmares, after thousands of late-late-night conversations, after the way that making each other laugh became the easiest thing in the world, after the way that they would whisper sweet complements between each other like a secret because it was far too embarrasing to say loudly.

So yeah, it was a relationship. But "open, honest communication" was not exactly in Starscream's skillset, and, well, Bee wasn't really sure he wanted to talk about it either. Putting a name on it felt. Dangerous. Like it'd ruin it. There'd be too much pressure, too much commitment, too much... truth. It felt like confessing something that he wasn't ready for.

It was one thing to sleep with Starscream. It was another to, say, kiss Starscream. It was a third thing to literally sleep with Starscream, to trust the second-least-trustworthy person on Cybertron to be with him at his most vulnerable. But to be dating Starscream? To introduce Starscream as his partner? As his conjunx? That was a world of different things that Bumblebee was absolutely not prepared to handle.

What was he supposed to say? Oh, by the way, this is my conjunx. He's killed more people than my brain can even comprehend, but he also saved the universe that one time so it's totally cool now, don't worry!

But he loved him, and that was the problem. He loved Starscream so much, and he wanted everyone in the universe to know about the funny, thoughtful, brilliant person that he loved with all his heart.

And didn't it mean something that Bumblebee had seen Starscream at his absolute worst, and still decided that loving him was worthwhile? It wasn't like Bee was just flailing at the whims of his emotions, he chose to be here. Well, not the first time, that had just kind of happened. But after that, he'd chosen to stay, because loving him seemed worth the trouble of hating him, right? And Starscream was getting better, and that was a good thing.

And who was he worried about knowing? The handful of people Bumblebee would've bothered to tell if they did get married already knew the situation, and it wasn't exactly like either of them were really public figures anymore. The government job Windblade had gotten to keep Starscream busy was mostly just paperwork, and aside from the odd job here or there Bumblebee didn't do much. He'd basically retired. So they weren't going to be the talk of the town or anything. Besides, it's kind of old news, there'd been rumors of them doing something together pretty much since the second the war ended. It wasn't true then, but by now the scandal had kinda worn off and it was more of a "yeah, no shit" kind of gossip.

Still. A decade or so of closeness didn't really feel like long enough for a lifetime commitment, especially after what, four million years of hating each other beforehand?

But... Life is shorter than you expect it to be, right? They'd both died once over the course of this whatever-it-was. And the second time, they really had thought it'd stick, and Starscream sorta-haunting him from another dimension or whatever seemed like it was a permanent commitment, and that didn't scare Bumblebee at all. It sounded nice, not having to be alone again. This was like that, except he could be alone, sometimes, because neither of them could walk through walls or locked doors anymore so all he had to do for some privacy was tell Starscream to politely fuck off for a bit, which was a plus, right? Way more pracitcal.

"Can't we talk about this in the morning?" Starscream complained, eyes half shut, snapping Bumblebee out of his train of thought.

"What?" Bumblebee asked, confused.

"I don't want you to propose while we're drunk and you're rambling, idiot," Starscream was laying in Bee's lap, nuzzling his face into Bee's stomach plating. They were holding hands. When did that happen? "We can talk about it later."

Oh, shit.

"How much of that did I say out loud?"

"I dunno, you talk a lot. You're keeping me up."

"Shit. Sorry."

"S'okay. Your voice is nice."

"Oh." It was quiet for a minute.

"It's okay if you hate me. I get it," Starscream said.

"I don't hate you," Bee responded, blinking a few times, trying to shake off the feeling of spinning. "I like it when you're here."

"But you kind of have to hate somebody a little to love them, right?" Starscream shifted, staring up at the ceiling, head still resting on Bee's stomach. "I mean, it's hard to be with someone all the time. Especially when you're stubborn and stupid, and you do stupid obnoxious things and I hate it. But if you weren't those things I hate, you wouldn't entirely be you. And I don't just like parts of you, I like you, and I can hate things you do while still knowing that it's you, and I love who you are. Even when we piss each other off. It's still you. Right?"

"Do you think i'm stupid? I'm not stupid."

"You're missing the point."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Stop apologizing so much. I hate it when you apologize." Starscream's hand squeezed his a little tighter.

"Oh... uh. sorry."

"You make me feel... like..." Starscream just kind of trailed off.

"Yeah, I know. you too... uh. I mean. you make me. uh. you know."

"Yeah, I know."

"This is good, right?"

"Mmm, it's gonna feel shitty in the morning, but right now it's good."

"What about after tommorow?"

"I don't know. Ask me then."

"Hm."

"I don't have a plan, Bee. That's not normal for me. But I don't need you to tell me it's going to be like this forever, because it probably won't be. Things don't work out like that for us. But right now, for the first time in my entire life, I'm genuinely satisfied. Can we just enjoy that? I don't know how to be happy, Bee. I don't know how to handle it. But I'm trying to make this work. We can go back to shooting each other tommorow if that's easier for you, but right now, I'm happy."

"Yeah? Yeah. Me too. God, I'm happy," Bumblebee pulled their joined hands up, pressing a kiss to Starscream's knuckles where they intersected. "I'm happy that you're happy. I want you to be happy."

"I know," Starscream said. He muttered something else, but it was quiet and slurred and Bee couldn't quite make it out. In his head, Bee imagined it was something along the lines of I love you.

#the prompt was 'so why arent bee and starscream conjunxed' and i got to go from there #it was interesting! this is pretty stream of conciousness so i hope its interesting to yall as well!#red.doc #starbee #maccadams

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earnestly-endlessly · 3 years

Note

Hey! I hope I'm not bothering you, I just found your blog and I love it sm, and I saw you sometimes do cherik fic recs. Do you have any Canon divergence aus/fix it, preferably after Cuba, that are 30k or longer and have a happy ending? If not thats okay! You don't have to answer this. Have a wonderful day!

Hi anon, thank you so much. I’m happy you both like my blog and my recs. You are certainly not bothering me, and feel free to send me an ask any time. I have plenty of recommendations for you. Some of them diverge a bit from your request because I couldn’t help but recommend them as well. I will put a note on those who diverge from your request. As always, I only recommend fics I have personally read and enjoyed and I sincerely you love them too.

-Canon divergence aus/fix it, post Cuba, 30k or longer, with a happy ending cherik fic recs-

Not Half As Blinding- keire_ke

Summary: Cuban beach AU. Charles discovers that death does, in fact, solve everything.

Lay down beside me (so still and so soft) – C-Gracewood

Summary: A different take on the events of the film.

Rumor Has It – blueink3

Summary: "Did I hear the doorbell earlier?"

"Yeah, but I'd steer clear if I were you. It seemed a little tense. I don't know what's going on, but there's a kid out there who looks freakily like the prof."

Nearly six months after Cuba, Charles' life is turned upside down for the second time. Though he's slowly learning to adapt to the first, he's not sure he can handle the second. Luckily for him, there are a few people out there more than willing to help.

Forward Momentum – AsYouWish

Summary: Six months after Cuba, Charles and Erik find themselves thrown fifty years into the future, where they meet their older selves, the Avengers, and a world that's very different from their own. Faced with the pieces of their broken relationship, an unparalleled adversary, and dealing with Tony Stark on a daily basis, Charles and Erik do their best to adapt while trying to find a way back home -- and to each other.

When an Unstoppable Force Meets an Immovable Optimist – ToriTC198

Summary: "You are always trying to save me, Charles." Erik mused aloud. "Ever since you dove into the ocean and dragged me out. Did it ever occur to you that I might not be worth saving?"

A genuine smile broke out on Charles' face as he brightly answered, "No, my friend, not once. I have every confidence you are well worth saving. But, I never truly believed I could save you. You are not the sort of man who someone saves. The choice to be a better man has always been yours to make and I hold no illusions that I can make that decision for you. I simply have faith that one day you will save yourself. I only hope I am still at your side to witness it."

What if Erik and Charles had been able to find a middle ground in the end?

Take the First Option – ShowMeAHero

Summary: When Erik becomes unbalanced, Emma presents him with three options: go back to Charles for three months and learn to deal with whatever he has going have going on, lose his Brotherhood, or let Emma control his mind.

He really only has one choice.

Virtue to Which We Aspire – varlovian

Summary: Nine months after Cuba, Charles is found by Erik's Brotherhood in the smoldering ruins of an abandoned CIA base, exhausted but alive. As the only known survivor of the CIA's vendetta against mutants, recovering Charles' memory of the incident—which he admits to having forgotten—just became paramount.

But the harder they push, the closer Charles gets to breaking point. When he finally cracks, the X-Men and the Brotherhood will learn the truth, but it comes with a price...

Some doors, once opened, cannot be closed.

Some minds, once broken, will never be the same again.

The Waking of the Red King – rustingroses

Summary: When Charles' heavy injuries on the Cuban beach conspire to leave him in a coma and living in fantasy of his own making, Erik, the man who once threatened to divide the mutant cause, finds himself desperately trying to hold everything together. First of the Red King trilogy.

Wake Up and Smell the Pancakes – Ayra Sei Ethari

Summary: In one universe, Erik left Charles. In another, he stayed. So what happens when the two Eriks get switched? "At first, Erik thinks he's dreaming. Then he realizes that this is Charles. Who is not paralyzed. And kissing him.

Rage and Serenity – MagickMaker, TheFangedGoblin

Summary: After Charles is shot on the beach, he is rushed to the hospital and paralysis is prevented. Ridden with guilt, Erik finds that he cannot leave him. He helps him heal, and eventually, Charles learns to trust him again. But when they set out to rescue Emma from the CIA and accept her onto their team, tensions rise. Will love keep Erik and Charles together despite their differences?

No Yesterdays on the Road – pocky_slash

Summary: It's been two months since Cuba and things are settling down for Charles, Erik, and the beginnings of their mutant school. Right up until Charles disappears, that is. Faced with the possibility that a bitter Emma Frost has kidnapped Charles, Erik is forced to team up with Moira to hunt down the remainder of the Hellfire Club. From there, they hope to locate Frost and retrieve Charles, without killing each other along the way.

(Or: Erik and Moira Drive Across the Country and Talk About Their Feelings.)

What Can We Do Without You? – SwoopSwoop

Summary: Charles and the boys were holding onto a secret more dear to them than their own lives when Charles disappears into the night; Erik is betrayed and finds himself returning to Westchester in the hopes that the government was just trying to trick him. All the while the boys are stuck in the middle, left guarding the secret from the man they are most afraid of finding out who is weaselling his way back into their lives alarmingly easily.

Note: Includes Mpreg, but don’t let that discourage you from reading it because it’s a really great fix-it.

Survival Instinct – Lindstorm

Summary: It’s been months since Charles pulled Erik out of the ocean, and Erik is beginning to wonder how many more times he can choose Charles, and still keep his vow to kill Shaw. Cooperating with the CIA is straining Erik’s patience. When a fact-gathering mission goes wrong and Charles is kidnapped, Erik is left trying to hold their mutant band together while Raven and the rest of them fall apart. No one can foresee how the mutant Charles meets in captivity will challenge all his assumptions about his own power, and twist Charles’ telepathy out of his control. In the race to stop Shaw's nuclear ambitions from coming to fruition, Charles makes a crucial misstep. Erik’s decision between Shaw and Charles takes on unexpected ramifications when [spoiler deleted].

Needles (Series) – Skull_Bearer

Summary: AU where everyone's born Dominant or Submissive

Once a Dominant and Submissive pair is born, they are linked to each other, no matter how far apart they are. This link doesn't actually tell the Dom or the Sub each other's thoughts, but it does allow them to know how the other's doing and serves as a reassurance that there's someone meant for them out there.

Another one of the reasons that Erik hates Shaw so badly is because Shaw managed to break Erik's link to his Sub. Now Erik doesn't even know if his Sub's alive because breaking a link like that can kill a Submissive.

Meanwhile, Charles hates himself for not yet having telepathy strong enough to contact and help his Dom, especially after feeling the pain his Dom was forced to go through. He truly believes that his Dominant is dead. Hopes it, some nights when he remembers how his Dom was forced to suffer. It's better than to think of his Dom still being forced to bear that pain.

And then Charles pulls Erik from the water

Time to Grow – zarah5

Summary: In which you'll find chess dates which aren't dates (or maybe Charles is wrong about that). -- Based on First Class, this turns (slightly) AU during the beach scene.

Note: This fic is less than 30k words but it’s such a fandom classic and just a great read if you love your fix-its.

Faults for Fixing – beren

Summary: Charles sees the events of the missile crisis and subsequent weeks when he uses Cerebro to touch the mind of a mutant with the power to see the near future. When he wakes up he is determined that he will not allow them to happen and he will not lose the people he loves.

Note: A bit less than 30k words long but another great read.

It’s like one of us woke up – kaydeefalls

Summary: "You came here for me," Charles said, meeting Shaw's gaze levelly. "So let's not waste any more time."

Canon!AU in which Charles and Erik do find Shaw in Russia.

Note: XMFC fix it, but the events in Cuba don’t happen.

Afterlife – Anna (arctic_grey)

Summary: A year after Washington, Erik wakes up in excruciating pain as sudden awareness washes over him: Charles is dead. Erik has to adjust to yet another future: no extinction, just a world without Charles. But the death of his former friend leaves Erik weak and his powers drained. His quest for answers leads him back to Westchester, where Erik has to face his past with Charles and put together the puzzle pieces of what happened to the man he once cared for.

The Burdens We Long to Carry – arcapelago (arcanewinter)

Summary: When mutant-supporter and ally President Kennedy is assassinated and all pro-mutant progress is dismantled, Charles is no longer so confident that he's on the right side, and extends his hand to Erik after a year of animosity. They settle tentatively into their old partnership, but not everything is the same as it was--and not everything can be. When Hank develops a metal frame to move the lower half of Charles' body for him if he wants it, Erik offers the use of his mind and his ability in order to make it work. Both find out what they're willing to do for each other, and neither knows if it'll be enough to keep them together.

Other Futures Than These – midrashic

Summary: In which Cuba doesn't break them apart, but that doesn't mean that their futures are tied together. (Except that it does.)

A Days of Future Past AU where only one person can defeat the Sentinels and save the future: the man whose imprisonment and torture created them, and Charles Xavier's ex.

The Winter of Banked Fires – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles Xavier has returned from the dead -- but is lost within his own mind. Rogue has cast aside her own power and doesn't know where she fits in the world any longer. The production of synthetic Cure means mutantkind itself is newly at risk. And Magneto, turned human against his will, is in despair until the day he feels a familiar consciousness tugging at his own --

Set after X-3 (with much desperate fix-it applied), during XMFC, and every time in between.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #asks #earnestly answers #for some reason Tumblr refuses to post my entire answer #feel free to ask me whenever you want anon #I really love making these lists

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drxwsyni · 4 years

Text

Always, and Forever

Pairing: Yandere Koushi Sugawara x f!Reader

Synopsis: Koushi has taken care of you for so long, by now it’s something you’ve come to find solace in. And so it pains you to have to part from him on purge night, forced into the outside world in hopes of quelling your lingering embers of desired independence, however that may happen.

a/n: This is my fic for the Yandere Purge AU writing collab, hosted by the Lovesick Discord server! Here’s the link to the m.list where you can read the other fics members have written for this collab! I really didn’t mean for my part to get this long, but alas I have zero self control.

Thanks you so so so much to @yanderart for beta-ing this fic, you literally always work wonders for me while also being the sweetest human being ever. Many kithes for you my dear friend.

9.7k words

Warnings: Dubcon, heavy stockholm syndrome, infantilization, attempted assault (when Daichi makes a brief appearance), injury, depictions of violence, gaslighting, manipulation.

_____

He felt like home.

Koushi’s embrace, his words, his smell―the stability he surrounded you with.

The love he surrounded you with.

You felt light around him. Mind in another place, floating off into feelings of quietude. A swell of comfort bloomed in your chest at the sight of him. His warm and familiar smile, adoration for you shining in his hazel brown eyes. The way his fingers ghosted across your skin, gentle, as if you were made of the most delicate glass, and any move too unintentionally harsh would break you.

It’s why he took such good care of you. Making sure you were safe, out of harm from the dangers of the outside world. Tucked away in his home a small ways away from the outskirts of the city. He held a certain pride to it all―the knowledge that you were protected from all that could ail you, and all because of him.

You doubted that there was anyone else on the planet who would do the same. Who would learn every single little thing about you, know you better than you knew yourself. Nobody else existed that would dedicate so much to making sure you never had to worry your pretty little head over the stresses of everyday life.

There was nobody but Koushi.

As he held you close, your back pressed into his as the two of you lay in bed, it was obvious that he was all that you needed.

His arms wrapped around you, and with the lulling sensation of sleep slowly washing over you like a rising tide, it was easy to melt into his embrace. If you relaxed enough, let your inhibitions escape you, just how he always urged you to do, you might just feel like all is right in your small world with him.

“...You know what day tomorrow is, right?”

But that was why you couldn’t relax.

Koushi keeps you on your toes, biding his time for you to step out of line. He waits patiently, observing, but not compelling you more than normal on any given day. Your lover keeps with routine, fearful that changes will be too much for you to handle. Only, you wish there was a change, anything to stave off the mental consequences that repetitive actions brought.

You couldn’t relax, because even if he felt like home, it was still not your home. You lost that a year ago tomorrow.

...Purge night.

Free reign given to those like Koushi, and for those such as yourself. To have and to hold, or to run free. Two opposing forces in a race against the clock to fulfill their desires.

But you didn’t even make it past the first five minutes.

• • •

Seated on his couch, TV mantled above the fireplace, a warm glow dancing across the room.

You were nervous―painfully so.

That dreaded letter came in the mail. You were selected to be a participant, the government mandated notice read. Unfortunately for you, it didn’t read who you were selected by. It was why you were scared out of your mind, and why you went to the only person who could calm you down.

At his side, his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer, Koushi soothingly reassured you that everything would be alright. With his words, low and gentle, softly spoken in your ear. Or with his actions, a welcomingness that you could never refuse. His home being a safe haven, his touch coaxing you to let yourself accept that you had not a single thing to fret about with him.

He offered protection for the night. And you knew that you wouldn’t make it out there by yourself, so of course you obliged.

You obliged when he said to make yourself comfortable, when he offered to put on some music to ease the tension, whatever could assist your shaken soul. Your nerves were quite clearly running rampant― “Nothing a good cup of tea can’t fix.”

Koushi was right, it did wonders for your state, subdued more and more by the second.

Soon, the announcement played across the screen. Words in bold urging caution for some, and sparking adrenaline for many.

For you, things felt...strange.

The task of placing who had signed you up for this dreadful night was mind boggling. You thought to your coworkers, childhood friends, even lingering acquaintances that had entered and left your life in the span of a single day.

Still, nobody came to mind…

Not until the announcement ended.

Or the sirens outside ceased their countrywide alerts.

It wasn’t until you lost the feeling in your limbs, did you know where your mistake lay.

Taking the form of your always caring friend, never the one to leave you unguarded. Constantly checking up on you, ensuring you were looking after yourself. Doing everything he could to take responsibility for all those little things you couldn’t handle, just to lift that extra weight off you.

But really, Koushi didn’t think you could handle anything. Not like he could. Your struggles weren’t something you, a fragile and vulnerable thing, could ever possibly manage. In his eyes, you just weren’t made to take care of yourself.

That’s what he told you as he shut the television off, and as he laid you down on the couch.

He spoke so lovingly, “It’s alright, my sweet girl.”

By then it was too late. You were reduced to being completely defenceless, at risk of quite literally everything.

...That’s not how he saw it, though.

To Koushi, you’d never been safer.

That was the reality―you in his home away from modern dangers. Then, and now still.

• • •

A year had just about gone by. You no longer thought for yourself, for the most part. Koushi tried to force you into a state of complete dependence, and you couldn’t deny that he did a good job of it. You knew this because mostly, your memory was in shambles. From days upon days upon weeks where you let him do all the work, things didn’t really stick. And what significant thing was there to remember in the same laid out and unfaltering routine?

He would always dote on you, not once have you needed to ask him to do so. “It’s my responsibility,” he would repeatedly tell you. It wasn’t your place to fend for yourself―that was his job.

With how thorough he was with that agenda, not letting you slip up for a second without reprimanding you, Koushi had molded your mindset to fit his ideals. A year of reminders, of insisting submission upon you―all serving one purpose.

To make you see, make you understand that he was the only one for you.

But he knew just as much, if not more than you, that still there remained the flickering flames of autonomy. The need for it dim, but its light still a beacon of strength that fueled you to resist him.

Koushi waited for an answer, an acknowledgement to his question that no doubt stirred conflict in your mind.

Your hands gripped the bedsheets, a seed of dread planted in your chest. Just slightly, you nodded your head in confirmation. Of course you knew what tomorrow was.

The day where, only because it’s illegal not to do so, those like you were given a chance at freedom. To make up for failing last year, and to obtain that independence you once held.

You didn’t even know if you completely wanted it though...

Behind you, Koushi pulled you closer into him. Carefully, he leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss against your temple. His hand intertwined with yours, giving it a small squeeze.

And nothing more was said on the matter.

_____

You woke up in his arms, a safe cocoon under the sheets with the morning daylight seeping through the cracks of the closed blinds. Of course, Koushi was already awake.

Sometime throughout the night, you shifted into your current position―head resting on his chest, arm thrown over his torso. You sighed happily as you were met in your waking state with the feeling of his hand on your waist, holding you against him as he thumbed the soft and nightgown clothed skin soothingly, a repeated back and forth.

His morning voice always made you feel different. A little raspy, but still coated in his loving tone, creating butterflies in your stomach. “Mornin’, pretty girl.”

Still wrapped in the comfort of a post sleep haze, you nuzzled your face into his chest. “Mmmn...mornin’.”

If you were looking at him, you’d be able to see his expression that was practically dripping in admiration. You might find his tiredly intimate words and motions endearing, but he found that of yours to be nearly enough to stop his heart.

Really, everything you did had that effect.

...It was a shame he’d have to go without it later tonight.

For now however, he’d let you sleep in. It was the weekend after all, and you needed your beauty rest. That, and he wasn’t about to ruin this moment by discussing the inevitable.

_____

Neither of you had yet to speak of what was soon to come, but that didn’t matter. Not when, even from the moment he got you out of bed, that reality was already having an influence on your day.

Normally, Koushi would opt to dress you in something a little more delicate. He liked the sight of you in a silken nightgown, an earthy pale pink, or pastel blues. Something to represent how fragile he thought you to be. Of course, it was never a practical outfit. But you had nowhere you needed to be, remaining inside his home your only job.

This morning's upgrade of a real dress, one with pockets, double lined and long sleeve, was the first reminder of tonight’s main event. All in all, it was pretty. You liked it, you were grateful for it.

But it only made your chest tighten, an indescribable hint of trepidation taking hold of your being.

The day goes on, you once again settling into routine. It wasn’t hard doing so, especially since now you’ve grown used to how unwavering it is. You actually find it quite nice.

If you forced yourself to step outside of your adopted headspace, it was just barely possible to pinpoint when you became this docile. When the rules Koushi had both mentally and physically beat into you became automatic actions. Or, when they didn’t seem like rules, but more so guidelines for a healthy routine that you genuinely wanted to complete.

Because you did feel healthy. You got plenty of sleep, since you always went to bed when he told you to. You had a balanced diet, because even though Koushi was busy with work, he always managed to prepare you a proper meal. You felt at peace, because you forgot why you were here in the first place.

So, separating from that compliance, and forcing yourself to remember your reality―you’d say it’s been roughly three months since you started to enjoy living with Koushi. And now that you’ve memorized the routine he’s set up for you, you know that when he sits you down on the couch, while he remains standing in front of you before speaking―these are special circumstances.

It’s just after dinner, a little past 5 o’clock. He has yet to help you switch into your evening routine, which normally consists of giving you a task such as reading or drawing to pass the time, until you have to get ready for bed.

You know that he’s looking down at you, but you can’t bring yourself to return his gaze. When you caught a glimpse of it, it only stirred anxiety inside of you. He wasn’t tense. He wasn’t upset. He seemed...casual.

Too casual for the conversation you were about to have.

“I know this is stressful for you, sweetheart. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

Your hands are folded on your lap, nails digging into the skin in an attempt to distract you from the developing worry encasing you.

Much to your dismay, Koushi crouches down in front of you, a hand placed gently atop your knee. Like an adult trying to get on the level of a child, which honestly is what he makes you feel like sometimes when he speaks in such a soft tone. It forces you to look him in the eyes.

He’s right―you could always say no.

Mandatory by law, those like you who are bound to your ‘lover’ by their legal ownership over you must be given a chance to regain independence. However, you’re completely within your rights to deny the offer. Of course, this would mean that for another year you would be stuck with them.

The problem is, many of the individuals who deny the offer no longer find it as being stuck.

You don’t know what you would define it as.

What you do know is that if you go, the odds of making it out with that sense of freedom aren’t very encouraging. Your stamina is all but entirely depleted, given how the most activity you get is by walking throughout the house to either the bathroom, living room or kitchen.

On top of that, you have zero clue where you’d go. Being in the same spot for a year hasn’t exactly done anything for your sense of direction, or your understanding of the city’s layout. And the last time you went outside, the most you saw was the same view from the living room’s window.

Because you only got about ten feet from the back door before Koushi caught you.

That experience didn’t give you anything to help you in trying your hand at tonight’s offer. In fact, it only made things more difficult. The mere thought of what had ensued after he dragged you back inside his home was immobilizing.

It was likely the very reason as to why deciding if you wanted to attempt to leave Koushi was so debilitating. When even thinking of taking a single step outside struck fear into your core.

...

You should say no.

But of course, things would never be that simple. Not now at least.

Those embers of resistance still burned inside of you. Albeit dangerously fleeting, you could just barely recall the indulgences of your past life. A time where you still held that independence, when you could choose to do things for yourself. Small things you took for granted, like fast food or staying up late and binging shows―while the memories were clouded, you could still recognize the feeling they gave you.

Of warmth, or of the mindless pleasure that you used to never think twice about seeking.

A pang of guilt shot through you, realizing how selfish you were for wanting to leave Koushi over that. He’d been so good to you, making sure you barely had to lift a finger. Yet here you were, yearning for things that would only do you harm, a fact he’d repeated countless times in the early days of living with you.

But, tonight was the only night of the year when you got to be a little selfish. The prospect of earning those little independent privileges was strangely like fuel to the nearly burnt out fire of your lingering resistance.

You looked back at the grey haired man, still calmly awaiting an answer.

“N-no, no...I want to do this, I think…”

And there was that smile again, all too soft and gentle for what you could only guess was some well contained detestment for your words. He looked understanding, and to anyone else the way he regarded you would be endearing.

What a loving boyfriend….

If only they knew.

With that, he let you remain on the couch, waiting patiently for his return while he moved momentarily into another room. Soon he returned, and for the first time in a whole year, he let you watch television that wasn’t dumbed down animated shows, or wholesome animal documentaries.

Koushi put on the news, or more specifically, the countdown broadcast to the purge.

_____

You could almost laugh at how rattled simply watching the news made you. It would be amusing, accept your heart was beating too fast, mind racing with worrying thoughts to realize the irony of the situation.

This night was supposed to be your only chance of gaining legal custody of your own independence. You should be beaming. Yet here you were, anxiously bouncing your leg, bottom lip between your teeth as the announcer went on with scripts of how people across the country were preparing for when 6 pm hit.

And Koushi, the one who should be stressed with the possibility of you slipping out of his grasp―he was doing fine.

For the most part, at least.

Sure, a small hint of dread for the highly, and he means highly, unlikely was present in the back of his mind. But Koushi knew you. He knew every single little thing that made you who you were.

Of course he did, he loved you after all.

So that flicker of dread remained almost nonexistent. Because he also knew how this night would end, and that was more than enough to calm his nerves.

Unconsciously, you leaned into Koushi’s side. He was seated right next to you on the middle of the couch. An arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. Your left hand in his and placed on his lap, his fingers not so absentmindedly drawing soothing circles into your skin.

You didn’t see, but his eyes never left your troubled and practically shaking form.

He felt bad for taking pride in the sight.

It meant that you were terrified of leaving him. And you should be, it was so dangerous out there. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself, it’s why he did it for you. So, seeing this proof that in less than ten minutes, you’d be going out into the night alone, had you shivering in fear―it only told him that what he was doing was right.

Yes, it did hurt him to see you so distressed, but you needed to learn your place.

Which was next to him, always.

And when he thought about it, this is how his lessons always went. Koushi would never hurt you unless you deserved it. Unfortunately for you, you tended to do a lot of things that warranted punishment. And he was eager to help you see things his way. Tonight was no different.

You’d never be in any real danger.

He’d never go as far as to permanently damage you in any way.

If you deserved the punishment, then he should be allowed to have a little fun with it.

Both of you were brought out of your respective intense thoughts as the room was bathed in red. The television screen, now vibrantly pigmented in the colour, began playing the annual emergency broadcast, alarms blaring from the speakers.

Koushi saw how you flinched, and like the loving person he was, he reached for the remote to turn down the volume. You were still shaking like a leaf, stare fixated on the bolded words rolling across the screen.

In an attempt to console you, Koushi gently moved a hand onto your shoulder, urging you to lean back into him. Your heart skipped a beat as he placed a kiss on the crown of your head, lingering there for a moment.

He spoke in a delicate whisper, just loud enough that it would drown out the automated announcer from the last broadcast to be had tonight. “...Shhh, you’re alright sweetheart.”

Unconsciously, you nodded with his affirmation, trying to convince yourself of the same thing.

Information continued to dance across the screen. You would have twelve hours, starting at 6 pm, which was in two minutes, to do whatever you needed to obtain your ideal outcome. So would those opposite of you in nature, which didn’t exactly help your chances of fighting for your freedom.

A myriad of other rules and such were listed, most of them being useless to you. It was more so meant for those of the bolder type. What weapons you could use, who you could injure, and how far you could take things.

You didn’t want to hurt anybody. You just wanted to go back to how things were before naively falling for Koushi’s trap―or at least that’s what you thought. The whole decision still felt a little cloudy in your mind, even now.

Abruptly, the television stopped it’s recount of the mandatory notice. The red returned to black, because for one, there was nothing more to and. And, because Koushi had turned off the TV, the resounding click bringing you back to reality.

Neither of you moved as the countrywide sirens rang out. The fixed speakers outside sounded off, letting everyone who wasn’t tuning into the news segment that finally, the purge had begun.

Your gaze remained fixed on the floor, feeling like it was taking an eternity for the roaring noises to cease. Eventually they did, leaving you and Koushi with the silence of the living room, the hushed sounds of a crackling fireplace being the only thing to meet your ears.

Naturally, he has to do everything for you. And, naturally, he doesn’t mind.

“C’mon, sweet girl.”

Carefully, so as not to scare you more than you already clearly were, Koushi pulled you off the couch. Not moving too quickly, he kept your hand held firmly in his as he led you to the front door.

You couldn’t remember the last time you got this close to the entrance. His various methods of reprimand doing wonders to keep you from drawing near it. Sometimes, even looking at the door was something you feared.

But now, here you were, standing right in front of it.

You followed Koushi’s movements, your hand falling at your side as he released it to begin undoing the excessive amount of locks.

Not excessive to him of course, anything to keep his perfect little girl safe.

The quiet beeping of the door’s alarm was the only thing to be heard aside from the noise of your heart beating in your chest, the sound reverberating in your skull. Then came the manual locks, Koushi’s hand reaching into his pocket to grab the keyring.

With each lock coming undone, your mindset continued to spiral.

You can’t do this. It’s too much to handle. You have no clue where to go, or where to hide.

And the comfort that he provides―you really do like it.

How he touches you, tender and lovingly, able to feel with every movement how much he cares for you. When he wraps you in his arms, that familiar and comforting smell that’s so undeniably Koushi sedating those thoughts at unease. He speaks to you, always saying the right things, so softly.

You realized that lately, there was nothing to worry about with him.

But you would lose all you earned the second you stepped out of his home.

Yet, as he finishes with the locks and turns back to you, it doesn’t feel like you’ll lose anything.

Not as in, once you leave, his presence will be gone, and that you’ll never have to experience it after you make it out of this night with your freedom.

Rather, once you fail, he’ll be waiting, ready to snuff out those pangs of anguish you’re feeling right now, just like he always does. That kind of comfort didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

The thought alone was enough to quell many of your concerns.

Koushi stepped towards you, his hands reaching for you, finding their destination in gingerly cupping your face. Nervously, your eyes flitted from his frame to the door’s handle.

The man in front of you sighed slightly, taking in the details of your expression. The furrow of your brows, how you had trouble focusing on any one thing while a plethora of thoughts raced through your mind.

He liked knowing how much this was bothering you. Showing that at the end of the day, you were more dependent on him than you realized.

Koushi was the first to speak, you tensing at the startling noise.

“I’m not forcing you to do this, sweetheart. You know you don’t have to go out there.”

He studied you intently, and you felt the urge to shrink from his focused gaze. It would be so easy to just stay home. To curl up with Koushi in front of the fireplace, relax into his arms as the night went by.

But as you looked back to the unlocked door once more, you knew that wasn’t an option.

“I do have to, I’m sorry…”

You didn’t know if you were apologizing to him, or to yourself.

Koushi smiled, a thumb momentarily caressing your cheekbone before pulling away.

“Well, then―I’ve got something for you.” His hand once again fished around in his pocket before pulling out the object in question.

Your eyes landed on it immediately―a burner phone.

It was simple, a black flip phone, old model and with little use aside from calls and texts that took far too long to type out on its inconvenient keyboard.

Koushi stood next to you, a hand resting on the small of your back as he flipped the device open. The artificial glow of the screen illuminated your face while he held it open for you to observe.

“My number is on speed dial, just press here―” he went through the motions slowly, letting you follow the steps he was taking, “―and you’ll be able to call whenever you need me.”

Slowly you nodded, amazed at the prospect of using an electronic, even an ancient one. You hadn’t touched a phone in so long.

Koushi slipped the device into the pocket of your dress, choosing to face you once again. This time he gripped your shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze to grab your attention. “If you can’t handle being out there, promise that you’ll call me.”

For the first time this night, you looked him in the eyes. Those full of compassion and care, you not knowing the feelings they hid from you.

“...I will, Koushi.”

A moment of silence lingered in between the two of you, and before you could make any first move, his lips were softly connecting with yours.

An action full of devotion, you had no choice but to melt into it. Because now, it no longer caused discomfort to eat away at your system, but the exact opposite.

When his lips parted from yours, instead of immediately letting go, Koushi pulled you into his embrace. His arms wrapped around your waist, your head settling into the crook of his neck.

You finally realized that there had been tears slipping down your cheeks this whole time.

His voice sent shivers down your spine, spoken against the shell of your ear. “I love you, so much…”

Your hands gripped his shirt tightly in response.

“...But, you won’t stand a chance out there.”

An odd choice of words, while although it did send an icy fear throughout your body, it still made you want to go out there and prove him wrong.

Whether or not he realized that fact was beyond you.

Koushi pulled away, not before pressing a final kiss on your cheek. His hand reached for the doorknob, turning, and swinging it open.

The cold air of the evening hit your body, the sun rapidly setting on the horizon. It brought about a new sense of coldness to go along with that which was stirred by your anxieties. Breaking your attention away from the outdoors that lay just a few feet away, Koushi voiced his plans.

“Alright, pretty girl. I’ll give you an hour as a head start, sound good?”

Silently, because you couldn’t form the words to make a response with an impossible lump in your throat, you nodded. But you still remained in place.

Waiting for his permission.

He smiled at your expectant behaviour.

Koushi waved a hand, gesturing to the outdoors. “...Go on, now.”

Hesitantly, still greatly unsure of your own decision, you did as he said. Feeling almost light, with your body seemingly moving on its own, you stepped through what, up until now, was a forbidden threshold.

The breeze in the air made your dress flow, the feeling of the forceful chill against the bare skin of your legs a foreign sensation after all this time. You could hear the sounds of crickets chirping in the grass, many living past the tree-line of the forest surrounding his home.

The sun was what you were least expecting.

Just barely managing to peek through the mostly overcast sky, its intense rays landed upon your skin. You could feel its heat, a warmth contrasting the fall temperatures. Tilting your head up slightly, you closed your eyes to bask in its natural gift.

But as soon as it came, the sensation was gone.

The sky fully clouded over, leaving you in the cold, and in a darkness threatening to grow worse as each second ticked by. Still battling an inner turmoil to go through with your wants, you turned around to face Koushi one last time.

Still at the front entrance, he was bathed in the inviting warm light coming from inside the house. He made no more moves to sway you in any which direction. Instead, he simply stood in the doorway, casually leaning against it with his hands in his pockets.

That’s when it dawned on you.

You were wasting time.

No wonder he was so calm. Letting you spend precious seconds getting nowhere.

Your eyes met his. Koushi gave you that signature smile that suddenly wasn’t so comforting.

And then, you were gone.

_____

Your heart was thudding loudly in your chest, desperate gulps of air entering and exiting your already exhausted system. Previous calculations on the few strengths you’d have going for you, and the many weaknesses holding you back were correct.

After less than two minutes of running, you already had to reduce yourself to a walking pace.

Your limbs felt increasingly strained at the sudden exertion, calves aching and lungs burning. Once you slowed down and your wits returned, you noticed the particularly painful sensation in your feet.

Koushi failed to give you proper shoes for the night's events, instead leaving you in your fairly thin lined slippers that now weren’t even good enough to keep out the chill.

Or perhaps, he did that on purpose?

Those facts didn’t quite matter at the moment. You had finally reached the edge of the city, making good time as you didn’t have the need to make it there under the cover of the forest. A quick glance at your burner phone would tell you that you still had fifteen minutes of free time, so there was no problem being out in the open as you took to the road to reach your destination.

The stretches of trees were replaced with encroaching buildings, starting out small and changing into impressive structures as you ventured further into the city.

Overall, it was quiet. Aside from a few stray pieces of litter blowing in the wind, there was nobody out on the streets aside from yourself. Really, many people didn’t have a reason to be out. Not everyone had someone to be running from, or oppositely, had someone to be running after. If you didn’t fall into either of those two categories, then you had no reason not to stay inside.

After all, getting in someone’s way could mean risking your life.

This constant and looming reality, that the only reason why you were out was because of these special circumstances―it didn’t exactly make you feel any better.

Even as you caught your breath, your heart remained beating rapidly inside your chest. Your feet stumbled awkwardly along the sidewalk, wincing with each shot of pain that ran up your legs.

You only paused when your eyes landed on red and bolded graffiti on the side of a boarded up shop.

“KNOW YOUR PLACE.”

However, you failed to understand what that was anymore.

The sudden noise of a shrill scream sounding from some indiscernible place brought you startlingly out of your focus on the graffiti. The noise bounced off of the brick walls of buildings around you. Your head whipped from side to side, trying to understand where it was coming from.

Only, it felt like the screams were all around you.

Your hands were clenched into tight fists, nails indenting crescent moons into the skin of your palms. The wails lasted for a mere five or so seconds, but it felt like minutes with how your distress was only amplifying your panicked reaction.

In that state of immense internal torment, you unable to think of any one decision for yourself, your body once again acted on it’s own. Fight or flight senses kicking in, favouring the latter, you bolted away from what you were most sure was the best direction away from the screaming.

Really it was all you could do. Staying in one spot, frozen with fear that wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, wouldn’t do a single thing for you. Even if you didn’t know the exact destination of your travels, all you knew was that you had to put as much distance as possible between you and Koushi’s home.

So you ran, only to once again forget just how ill equipped you were.

The street lights went by in a blur, wind whipping past you. The first bead of sweat trickled down your face as you willed yourself to keep moving. Not even a minute in and you were slowing to a stop, leaning against the side of a building.

You could’ve passed out right then and there, with the weight of your exhaustion, and your weakening mindset crashing down on you. But if you stopped, you knew that you’d likely never be on the winning side of this night.

Still trying to catch your breath, you used this time to pull out your burner phone. Flipping the small device open, you winced at the bright and artificial glow that you were so unaccustomed to, especially in the darkening light of the evening.

Your eyes landed on the clock, front and center of the compact screen.

7:00 pm.

The head start was up.

_____

A quiet playing of jazz music lingered in the background of the kitchen, the pinks and oranges of a setting sun behind the clouds casting part of the room in a warm hue. Methodically, and humming to himself, Koushi was drying the dishes from the dinner he had with you, fondly recalling how breathtaking you looked in your new dress.

He took a quick glance at the clock after putting the last cleaned dish in the cupboard, making sure to lock the small door shut. The device mounted on the wall told him it was nearing quarter to eight.

Expectantly, his phone rang in his pocket, him not even needing to look at the caller ID before answering. Especially not when the voice on the other line spoke before he could even get a word out.

“You still need me for tonight?”

Koushi slung the cup towel over his shoulder, leaning against the granite countertop. “Daichi, I’d really appreciate the help if you’re still up for it. I understand if you can’t though―”

“You had my back last year, the least I can do is return the favour.”

Softly, Koushi laughed a little to himself, remembering how frustrated his friend was, unable to control his other half.

He nodded, gazing out the window as he spoke. “Well then, do you remember what I said or should we go through it again?”

On the other line, he heard some indistinct rustling, paying to mind to it. “That’s alright, I know how important this is to you. Couldn’t forget it even if I tried.”

That brought a chuckle out of both of them, Daichi continuing soon after.

“I’ll get going then, gotta handle a few things first.”

This time, Koushi could make out the distinct noise of a car trunk slamming shut. Meaning his friend was already on his way to set up.

“...Of course. Thanks again, by the way.”

He heard what sounded like keys jingling, “No problem, talk to you later.”

With that, Koushi ended the call. Phone still on, he was left to look at the last app he had open, the screen still giving him live information by the second. Satisfied with what he saw, he excited the tracking software, swiftly pocketing the phone.

Grabbing the still somewhat full wine glass on the countertop, Koushi made his way to the living room. Relaxing into the couch with a relieved sigh, he resigned himself to a waiting game, knowing it’d only be so long until he had you back, safe and wrapped in his arms.

Just where you should be.

_____

There weren’t many options: either hide in the shadows, and be at risk for unsuspected attacks, or remain in the safety of the street lights, exposed to any and all onlookers. Looking over your shoulder, not quite eyeing any one thing that meant certain danger, you chose the latter.

When the screams around you finally died down, fading into the background as you left it in the dust behind you, the sound of a distant rumbling came to the forefront. With a quick glance up, you could see that, even in the dimming light of the evening, the clouds above were growing thicker. Darkening and swirling in the sky, you knew that soon a storm would be upon you.

As the earthy aroma of approaching rain permeated your senses, your heart longed for the comfort back home. If it weren’t for that nearly indescribable need to keep moving away from Koushi, you’d be back there. Probably relaxing on the couch, a sedating melody coming from the record player. Another perfect Saturday night spent in your lovers presence.

You could practically feel the heat of the fireplace on your face if you focused hard enough.

However, that heat wasn’t coming from such a sanctuary, one who knows how many kilometers away by now. Rather, from the burning building in front of you.

Snapping out of that reminiscent trance, you came to an abrupt stop. Squinting a bit at the bright and flaming scene, you could just barely discern that the building was a police station.

The sight only brought a small quirk to your lips, knowing how useless they were to those like you.

Turning away from the building, you trained your goals on moving in the same direction, fearful of getting turned around and accidentally heading back towards home. Things once again fell into silence, only the sound of a looming and encroaching storm meeting your ears every ten minutes or so. Fatigue had set in long ago, leaving your steps sluggish, fighting every muscle in your body to keep up a consistent pace. Even if you weren’t moving fast, you were still moving.

Except, that too grew nearly impossible to reasonably manage.

The further you walked, the more disturbing sights you came upon. It seemed like all at once, things were hitting the fan. Corrupt scenes unfolding around you being horrifying to no ends.

Exiting an alleyway, the first thing you saw was a man stuffing a body into the trunk of a car. You couldn’t tell who the person was, or whether they were even alive. But those details weren’t remotely feasible, as the perpetrator caught you in his gaze.

Seeing your frozen stature, face riddled with fear, he only laughed to himself.

You were no threat to the claims of the night, so he dismissed you with ease. Leaving you in his wake as he drove off, you stayed put for an unknown amount of minutes.

The terrifying truth of what you were was unavoidable, and damn near immobilizing. Weak in everyone’s eyes, often your own included.

At some point you found the will to start moving again, only to soon pause for a breather. Mostly to ground yourself, you checked the time on your temporary phone.

It read just half past nine. In normal circumstances, you’d be in bed; or getting ready for bed, at the least. As a few droplets began falling from the now pitch black sky, you longed for safety under the covers of your bed. Bundled in soft blankets, a dry nightgown, and the soothingly mellow voice of Koushi next to you. Every night, without fail, he’d always remind you of how much he loved you, helping you fall fast asleep under the calmness he provided.

A shiver wracked your body, heart aching for his safety. Your finger hovered over the call button, one movement away from being scooped up by your saviour.

Your body was jolted out of the thought before you could bother with such a surrender.

Someone―a young girl, maybe in her early twenties, desperately clutched the sleeves of your dress. She looked up at you, expression riddled with a bone chilling dread. “Please help me! He’s...he’s trying to―”

Yet, just as she was about to finish, another set of hands painfully grasped your shoulders. A split second later and you were being thrown into the side of a building.

A man was yelling at you, quite loudly at that. Or maybe he was yelling at the girl―with the way you were sobbing, panic shutting down your better senses, it was too hard to tell. You couldn’t quite hear any one thing, the world falling into silence as the anxieties resting in your system spiked violently.

Your brain didn’t even register that you had bolted into a sprint. Not until, sheerly because your body couldn’t handle taking another step until you gave it at least a little break, you stopped, almost falling to your knees with how drained you were. Barely, you managed to keep yourself upright by leaning against a lamp post.

In that moment, there was only one thing going through your mind.

You wanted to go home.

Koushi’s home, which just as much belonged to you as it did him. That’s where you were meant to be. Not out here, by yourself in the middle of the night, rain coming down around you. Even if it was light, the slight dampness in your clothing had you convulsing in cold bodied trembles.

The phone was still clutched tightly in your hand. You knew what you needed to do.

And as the noise of gunshots rang out in the direction you came from, your plans shifted to do just that.

Shaken to your core, you shuffled into an alleyway. Seeking the refuge of a shelter to make that fated call, you blindly ventured deeper into the narrow passage. The saving grace that were streetlamp lights disappeared behind you, remnants of its glow doing little to help you see where you were going.

Doing nothing to help you see the trap you were walking directly into.

All at once, your knees buckled under you, a net you had stepped into lurching upwards. A shriek escaped your being as the intertwined rope cased around you, hoisting you into the air. Suspended only five five or so feet off the ground, the height wasn’t what sent terror coursing through your veins.

It was the fact that you were trapped, no amount of struggling enough to free you. And, because your phone had slipped out of your hand, through the holes of the net, and onto the pavement beneath you.

Out of reach, leaving you helpless to the whims of your sudden captor.

Just like that, the repeated calling for your lover spilled from your lips. Petrified in every sense, you wailed for Koushi to come and save you. Pleading cries for help were repeated until your throat grew hoarse. You only stopped when you physically couldn’t catch your breath.

But even that ceased as well, when a tall figure came into view.

You blearily wiped away the wetness pooling in your eyes, body uncomfortably folded by the sinch of the net as what looked to be a man stalked towards you.

“...Little things like you really shouldn’t be out on a night like this.”

As he drew closer, you could make out the short cut of his hazelnut hair, chiseled features, a broad frame shielded from the downpour by a waterproof jacket. Slowly, the stranger leaned down, picking up your fallen burner phone.

A small whimper escaped you, “Please…”

The deep baritone of his voice shook you as he spoke, “What, looking for this?” Mockingly, he waved the flimsy device back and forth, just out of arm's reach from you. He lowly chuckled to himself at the severely distraught look you gave him, and at the lifeline that was your phone.

The phone that, taking it in both hands, he snapped in half with ease.

Eyes blown wide, you watched in silent horror as the man tossed the unusable device aside, the noise of it clattering to the ground bouncing off the walls of the alleyway. Before you could even register what had happened, what was going to happen, the man was right in front of you.

You couldn’t even think of what to do or say as his hand reached through an opening in the net, harshly gripping your jaw and forcing you to face him.

His lips were pulled into a small and menacing grin, unspoken notions of his intentions laced into the way he regarded you as prey. A quiet hum resonated from him, scanning your features intently. Not before turning your head to the side ever so slightly, seemingly confirming what he already knew, he spoke up once again.

“...No wonder he loves you.”

The glint of a pocket knife flashed before your eyes, and a second later you were crashing to the ground. With the ropes holding you up now severed, the net fell down around you. As soon as you could stretch out your limbs, you were mindlessly scrambling away.

Your better intuitions were completely clouded over, escape once again being the only thing your body could try to achieve.

“Stop fucking struggling.” The words met your ears as an iron grasp wrapped around your ankle, roughly dragging you back to that spot a few feet away from your position, where you’d only just crawled from.

The assailant flipped you onto your back, “What the hell are you gonna do anyways? You’re not made to fight people like me off.” Strangled sobs left your system as he settled in between your legs, his hand gripping your throat. “I could snap your bones like a fucking twig, and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it.”

You attempted to sputter out a response, anything to deter the man who was unashamedly handling your much weaker body. Yet, the second your lips parted, a sharp sting bled across your cheek.

“What a dumb little girl you are―dumb enough to walk right into an obvious trap.”

As the glint of a blade returned, you could do nothing but lay there as the sharp edge ripped through the fabric of your dress. The front of it fell open, leaving your bare chest exposed to his eyes, save for the bra being the only thing to defend you.

You didn’t see the knife disappear, only knowing it had gone somewhere when his now free hand groped your breast.

“I mean, what the fuck did you think was going to happen coming out tonight?” The man above you laughed to himself, knowing you were too scared out of your mind to respond.

Meaning his orders were playing out as expected.

The grip on your throat tightened, leading you to space out as he continued the one sided and condescending conversation. “I bet you could’ve avoided this too. Poor thing―too stupid to get out of her own way.”

The pleading request repeated over and over in your mind, but you couldn’t force yourself to speak it. As another smack collided with your cheek, hearing going out in the ear that was affected by the force, those spiralling thoughts got worse, a nauseating feeling rolling in your stomach.

Pleasepleaseplease just stop.

All you wanted was to go home. You should’ve never left. You should’ve never tried to leave Koushi.

Why would you ever want to do that?

Finding yourself growing lightheaded, unable to take in enough oxygen to keep yourself conscious, you felt something inside of you disappear.

If you could describe it, the sensation would be like a sudden dislodge. Relieving, a weight on your body, one that wasn’t caused by a man pressing into you, vanishing entirely.

You still didn’t feel calm, system remaining corrupted with a near crushing fright in your drifting state. But whatever familiar sense of trepidation you once suffered from was now gone.

Hands falling limp at your sides, exhaustion finally getting the better of you as you no longer had it in you to fight off the stranger choking you out, your eyelids fluttered shut. You didn’t want to stop struggling, to give up against this seemingly unstoppable force, but you didn’t have much choice, did you?

Only, a violent and haggard fit of coughs spewed from you as the suffocating force pinning you down disappeared.

Breath quick, your intake and outtake of much needed air stuttering, you heaved weakly against the wet pavement. The first thing that flooded your senses was the patter of the rain hitting the ground around you. Then, it was the feeling of that rain landing on the skin of your face. Cold and cooling, easing the burning ache of your cheeks that had been repeatedly battered just moments ago.

As your eyes closed to bask in the relieving sensation, the droplets against you left, yet still the sound of rain falling down around you remained.

Upon opening your eyes, a swell of emotions ran over you. Tufts of grey hair hung above you, a deeply worried expression of the man you loved regarding your worn out and still shaking form.

“...K-Koushi?”

If it weren’t for the rain, both of you would know full well that the water streaming down your face wasn’t from the night’s downpour. But the hitch in your voice, the tremble in your lower lip―both served as clear displays of the anguish you experienced.

His hands cupped your face, gentle as always, especially now so as not to put pressure on the tender skin. Even with the commotion of the storm beating down around the two of you, his voice was as clear as day.

“I’m right here, pretty girl.”

_____

The silence that the sanctuary of Koushi’s home, your home, brought about was like balm to your oversensitive state. It wasn’t a deafening silence, per se. Because here and there, it still carried symphonies of the outside world, while the world right at your fingertips brought ones of safety inside such sturdy walls. Whether it be the muffled noises of overhead thunder, or the soothing sounds of rippling water as your fingers danced mindlessly underneath its surface.

The heat of the freshly drawn bath was doing wonders for your strained muscles, now feeling limp in Koushi’s arms as he held you from behind. With a deep sigh, lungs still burning from previous exertion, you leaned into him. It was easy to melt into the secondary warmth he provided, your partially bruised back pressing into his chest.

With the night’s activities washed from your bodies, you needed only to bask in the presence of the man you once feared you lost. The shift from one extreme to another, immobilizing terror to heart wrenching relief―nothing had ever made your head spin faster.

Now, while you let the humidity of the bathroom seep into your skin, the sweet scent of body wash meeting your senses, the invisible weight of guilt remained burning. Your eyebrows stayed knitted, a look of worry that Koushi couldn’t see.

But little did you know, he knew it’s what you felt. He knew everything about you, right down to the last little detail. So he wasn’t surprised in the slightest when your meek voice broke through the silence, spoken in a volume just barely above a whisper, purely because your vocal cords were shot from when he heard you calling for him only an hour ago.

“...I really am sorry, Koushi.”

He wrapped his arms around you tighter, thumb running back and forth against the bare skin of your arm. “If you’re sorry, then you’ll let me take care of you. No more messing around.”

...

It’s not that you didn’t want to let Koushi do as he pleased, it was that you didn’t know why he wished to do it in the first place. Even after all the time he’d spent devoted to tending to your every last need, the reasons as to why he did so could never quite stick.

You never asked him for any of this. He just assumed the role of your caretaker without batting an eye. It was obvious he cared about you, but still you had issues accepting his motivation for it.

Letting out a shaky breath, you spoke once again. “I just...I don’t understand why you want to so badly. It doesn’t make any sense, and―”

“I do it because I’m in love with you, isn’t it obvious?”

The playfulness in his questioning tone didn’t go unnoticed, but it still didn’t exactly calm all of your anxieties. At least, not until he continued with his speech, his actions following up with affirmations.

Your head rested against his shoulder as his hands wandered, mapping out the sensitivities of your body, starting where they rested near your chest.

“I have been since the moment I laid eyes on you, sweetheart…”

When his hands found purchase on your waist, tenderly squeezing the plush skin, you harshly sucked in a breath of air. He kneaded the tense muscles of your body, speaking low, but still sending shivers down your spine at it’s proximity.

“All of your little quirks, your gentleness, how delicate you are...You’re so impossibly perfect.”

Pausing, Koushi pressed a light kiss against your temple, “...Of course I want to take care of you.”

With each word spoken, every syllable filled with innate devotion, your mind of worrying thoughts surrendered to him. Not given much choice in the matter, and not wanting to choose any alternative if there was one, you let his admiration slowly consume you whole.

“I wanna make sure nobody can hurt you, make sure you get what you deserve…”

Koushi’s hands drifted lower, deft fingers lightly trailing your body, teasing touches only serving to stir another type of heat inside you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt him cup your heat, middle finger gently pressing in between your folds.

“...And, that you get what you need.”

You softly whimpered as the pads of his fingers came into contact with your clit, the exhaustion you felt amplifying your sensitive nerves. Applying just the right amount of pressure, and in the perfect spot that had you yearning for more, Koushi skilfully circled the puffy nub.

He smiled to himself as you weakly squirmed in his hold, knowing that in your state, this was the finishing touch to his game. One that he’d been playing since the day he met you, and that now was about to reach its end. Where he’d finally have you right where he wanted you, and you’d both be happy for a long time to come.

Removing the pressure from his ministrations, he bowed his head so that his lips were just ghosting the shell of your ear.

“Tell me what you need, pretty girl.”

Tears pricking in your eyes at the carnal desire you felt from even the slightest of touches, you found yourself near immediately calling for him, begging for his help without a hint of recollection from the memory that held resemblance.

“Please Koushi...I need you.”

With those small and desperate pleas, Koushi found that there was nothing he wanted to hear more in that moment. The desperation laced in your tone was the sweetest thing he’d ever listened to, and so he vowed to himself that he’d make you repeat those wanton admissions time and time again. As often as he needed them, and as often as you needed him. Which would be in your every waking second from now on, finally.

He couldn’t help but encourage you even more, the sound of your whimpers as his fingers worked you over being the most addictive drug.

“That’s it...I’ll give you everything you need. All you have to do is let me―you can do that, right?”

Only wanting to please him more, full body acceptance gripping your being, you responded by quickly nodding, incoherent words escaping you without thought.

Koushi could only laugh at your reaction, adorable in every sense. But, he wanted to hear you say it, ever the demanding one, and always wanting you to play by his rules.

Knowing you were teetering on the edge of release, his fingers slowed their pace, relenting to an achingly teasing method of feathered touches. He spoke one last question, something to finalize his long maintained agenda, goals set on crystallizing your reality for the both of you.

“Promise that you’ll let me care for you, no matter what.”

At his question, the only thing more powerful than the feelings burning inside of you from his sinfully skilled movements was how you felt about him.

The way he made you feel safe, even on the darkest of nights. How he wrapped you in an embrace that would snuff out the flames of self-doubt without fail, each and every time. He never missed a single thing about you, from the obvious outward traits, to the hidden emotions that suddenly didn’t seem like things you needed to conceal―not with him.

There wasn’t a single think about Koushi that you could bring yourself to hate.

Because right then, you loved him, just as much as he loved you.

Koushi felt like home. He was your home.

A home you never had until now. And one you never wanted to leave.

Resigning yourself to him completely, leaving not a single thing that would keep you from submitting to his passion, you held nothing back. Forever and always, you would give yourself up to him, content at the knowledge that you hadn’t a thing to fret over so as long as you were with him

“...I promise.”

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