#also I can smell the angst coming this season so I just want them to have some down time

[cinewhore]

The Duchess of London

Pairing: Thomas “Tommy” Shelby x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: angst, mentions of drinking, drugs, blood, gore, sexual assault (not detailed), fighting, guns, smut (penetration, creampie, wrap it up lads!), fluff. 

A/N: The PB bug bit me and it bit me hard! Had to get this out. Takes place in season 2. Reminder that this is a bit dark given the contents of the show so if something rubs you the wrong way, don’t read it! You also don’t need to provide an explanation as to why you won’t read it, just keep scrolling. No beta cause I said so. Enjoy! Credits to the gif artist. 

Birmingham smelled like shit.

London smelled worse.

You thank your bodyguard as he helps you out of the car, careful not to drag your dress along the mud, it was brand new and you didn’t have the best relationship with the new seamstress that replaced your old one.

It was a strange thing, being back home. Your old stomping grounds. You remember the days fondly, racing up and down the roads, dashing through the traffic of folks who populated the area. You always found yourself somewhere you shouldn’t be, getting scolded by your aunt when you arrived home well past dark. There’s a slight twinge in your chest as you reminisce, desperately wishing you could go back.

Luckily, your old house wasn’t far from your lodgings, Rich spooked by the rumors of how lawless this part of town was. You couldn’t blame him, Birmingham had long been abandoned by any sense of law and order. The police only came when it benefited them, so the local organized crime had taken over.

“Rich, I’ll only be a few minutes. Keep the car running.” you instruct. The burly man nods in respect.

“Yes ma’am.” He tips his hat at you, heading back to the car.

It was a choice, coming back here. There were nothing but terrible memories you worked too hard to forget but you felt like you owed it to yourself and your aunt to come back. The house was exactly how you remembered it, sparse furnishings but warm with spirit.

Now it was half empty and lonely.

You were fast in your approach to gather anything you deemed important, the house was likely going to be cleaned and left up for rent. Photographs, scraps of clothing, broken china were all stuffed into a bag you brought with you. These were the broken fragments of your old life you weren’t ready to part ways with just yet.

After muttering a quick prayer for your aunt and hoping that the devil caught your uncle, you say goodbye to the Brimingham girl you used to be.

You needed a fucking drink.

You swagger into the Garrison, amused at the drunken men shouting across each other. You’re well aware of the stares you were receiving, knowing that a woman of your stature and style could only mean two things: you were a well off prostitute or the lavish wife of a man no one wanted to fuck with.

You took pride in being neither.

A man with a kind face smiles at you from behind the bar, throwing a white towel across his shoulder.

“What can I get you, love?”

“Whiskey. Neat.”

“What kind?”

You pretend to think about it. “Surprise me.”

The kind man chuckles to himself before hustling to get your drink. You dig around in your purse, pulling out a few bills that were much more than your drink likely cost. A hand covers your own as you slide the bills across the bar and you gaze up into a familiar face.

“I heard whispers about a very rich looking person coming into town, you wouldn’t have happened to see anything, have you?”

You couldn’t forget those piercing blue eyes even if you tried.

Suppressing a smile, you take the glass set in front of you and drain it quickly before gesturing for a refill. Tommy waves his hand at the barkeep.

“Get a bottle and bring it in the room.” he instructs, ushering you into the private area where he conducts business.

You follow behind him, silently thanking him as he pulls out a seat for you.

The two of you don’t say a word as he pours you another drink, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

“Thomas fucking Shelby.” you finally murmur, overcome with nostalgia. “How long has it been?”

Tommy gives a half shrug. “More than ten years, I’d say.”

“This yours?” you finally take a second to gaze about, impressed with the architecture. It felt like too beautiful of a place to be in Birmingham.

“More or less. It was a gift to Arthur.”

You grin. “A gift you didn’t buy.”

“A gift, nonetheless.” he takes a long drag of the cigarette, cautious as he blows the smoke out of his nose and in a direction that wasn’t facing you. “Heard about your uncle.”

You nod, posture stiffening. “May his soul rot.”

Tommy raises his eyebrows and his glass, downing his drink. “Cheers.”

“So,” you lean back in your seat. “What has Thomas Shelby been up to all these years?”

Tommy mimics your actions, scratching at his face. “Making business happen. Staying out of trouble.”

“You’re trying to be legal?” your curiosity piqued.

“Something like that.” He holds his arms out wide. “We’re expanding.”

“Into London. Fucking with the status quo there, I heard.”

Something in Tommy’s face hardens and he regards you with contempt. “Is that so?”

“It’s kind of my business to know. You are stepping into my turf. I don’t give a shit either way, this feud you have with the Italians is kind of good for business.”

“How?”

You take out a cigarette of your own, a long black cigarette holder accompanying it. Thomas doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he strikes a match, watching your mouth closely as you take a few drags. “People are far too concerned if there’s war coming to worry about women and their petty activities. Makes it easier to get into their pockets.”

“Did someone send you here?” He asks slowly, a tiny gun appearing on the table.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “No. As I have mentioned, I’m not interested in whatever dick measuring contest you have going on with Sabini. I’m just a girl who came to dance on her dead uncle’s grave.”

Tommy can tell that you’re being honest. It was refreshing but strange, he wasn’t one to openly trust people. You were the one person who didn’t care about what he was doing in a sea of people who questioned his every move.

“Dick measuring contest, eh?”

You had been fucked well before, sometimes from other women but nothing compared to how well Thomas Shelby was fucking you now.

His home was modest, clean cut and devoid of character. You were currently bent over on his bed being hastily taken from behind. It was as if he had just returned home from the war, eager and hungry for a woman’s touch. He couldn’t get enough.

Tommy staggers backwards, tapping your ass to get your attention.

“Fucking come here.” he rasps out and you giggle as he moves papers off a desk in the corner, hauling you on top of it. You spread your legs so he could slot himself in between them, entering you again with no hesitation.

“Don’t step on my dress.” you moan out, crossing your legs along his back.

“That, shit, all you care about now?” Tommy hisses, placing a hand on your hip to keep you still.

You nod furiously, leaning your head back against the wall and closing your eyes. You had already come undone twice and felt the third emerging soon.

“Fuck,” Tommy pants, taking his other hand and wrapping it around your throat. You loved the feeling of being choked and worked hard to memorize the touch of his fingers squeezing your skin. “I’ll buy you another dress. I’ll buy the fucking dress factory. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, fuck yes, Tommy.” You tighten around his cock as you come again, causing him to groan and weaken his stamina. “I want you to give me everything I ask for.”

“What do you want, hm?” He questions, making sure to maintain eye contact with you. It was difficult to keep your eyes open but you’d be damned if you didn’t try.

“I want your cum, all of it. I want you to empty your balls,” you reach a hand down for added effect. “Into my cunt.”

And just like that, Tommy thrusts into you forcefully twice more before coming to completion. You both groan at the sensation, the trickling of his seed oozing out of you and down your thigh. He rests his head against your shoulder, breathing heavily. You allow your legs to go slack, wincing at how stiff they had gotten.

After a moment of rest, Tommy helps you into bed where the two of you take the time to decompress.

“You’re marked.” Thomas comments, trailing a finger down the scar on the back of your left shoulder. It was in the shape of the number four, a reminder of what - who - you belonged to.

Joining the Forty Elephants was an honest mistake. When you arrived and couldn’t secure a place on your own, you resorted to petty theft just like any other low class person in your position. It had been the wrong place at the wrong time. You slipped inside of a clothing store, hoping to pick up a few nice shirts so you could find a steady job that wasn’t walking the streets at night. Turns out the Forty Elephants were at the height of a heist and you barged right into the middle of it.

You were caught and arrested with three other women. You begged and pleaded with the police, urging them to believe you when you said you were acting out on your own. You were all jailed together and you spent the night getting the living daylights kicked out of you. The next morning, the four of you were released and you were handed off to the leader of the up and coming gang.

“Some fucking runt you are.” She spat, sizing you up. You were interrogated relentlessly, the boss lady, Mary, assuming you were sent in by a rival gang to screw them up on purpose. When you justified your case, she nodded. You were brought in, taken care of and most importantly, you were protected.

You made nice with the other girls and became a skilled pickpocket, lock picker and seductress. The nickname “duchess” came after you managed to lift a hefty sum, including a car, from a duke. It was then you elevated your style and sense of purpose. You began to educate yourself, investing in legal companies and stockpiling your wealth for a rainy day.

You knew that life with the Elephants wouldn’t last forever and you needed a way out when the time came.

“It was my initiation.” You tell Tommy, breath catching slightly as his touch made you shiver.

He hums, pressing a small kiss to it. “I saw you that night.”

You frown, flipping over on your side to face him. He invites you to lay closer and you gingerly accept his invitation, perching yourself on his chest. “What do you mean?”

Tommy takes another puff from his cigarette before answering. “When you left Birmingham. It was at night. I was taking a walk with my brothers, and saw you scrambling to get out of the house. You ran like a bat out of hell. Never looked back once.”

“Oh.” You look down at your fingers, absentmindedly stroking the tattoo on his chest. You take a second to formulate a response, unsure of how to answer after years of not speaking about it. Tommy doesn’t push, waiting patiently for an answer that may never come.

After a moment of silence, you give him one. “He said I reminded him of her. Before she died, he was cold and distant. Afterwards, it was as if I had taken her place. It wasn’t the first time it happened. I remember crying a lot after. But that night, for whatever reason, I was determined to make it the last.”

You swallow thickly, brows furrowed as you replay the scene in your head. “I waited on him. Nearly fell asleep but like clockwork, he came creeping in the wee hours of the morning. I managed to stab him five times before I got away.”

Maneuvering yourself out of Tommy’s arms, you straddle him instead, pinpointing all the places you cut your uncle.

“Twice here.” You tap at his right peck with your finger. “Once in the stomach, once in the arm and once on his shoulder. He was a big guy and it was as if it didn’t faze him. Killing him didn’t matter at that point, I just wanted to be gone. So, I ran. Everyday for years, I kept looking over my shoulder, sure that he was going to show up and try to take me home. I hated myself. He got to live out his life and I suffered because of him.”

The tears surprised you as they dripped down your cheeks, hot and constant. Tommy is bemused as he wipes them away, his face never changing. You always pondered on who Tommy really was and what went on underneath the mask he was wearing. Then again, perhaps there was no mask to begin with.

“It’s stupid, I know.” you continue, hurriedly swiping at your eyes.

“It’s not. You did what you needed to do, what you thought was right. No one can ever blame you for that.”

“Funny, coming from a Peaky Blinder.” you chide with a small grin.

“Even funnier, coming from an Elephant.” he retorts without wasting a breath.

You sigh, placing your hands against his broad chest. “Cut from the same cloth, are we?”

Tommy nods, setting the now stub of a cigarette out in the ashtray placed on the nightstand. He turns his attention back to you, mind racing as he studies your features. How he let you slip away, how he went years without seeking you out plagued him from time to time. You were elusive, a mirage of a seemingly perfect woman he shouldn't taint with his touch. You’ve grown into your features, personality blossoming. You weren’t subservient like many of the other women he had encountered, all who would bat their eyelashes at him in hopes that they would get picked to be with a real gangster.

“Stay. I have an opening in my office, we could use the help. You’d straighten out Arthur, no doubt.”

You scoff, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to be a guard dog or a bloody receptionist, Tommy. Besides, I’m expected back in London tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Family business.”

Tommy lights another cigarette at that.

“You could come with me. I wouldn’t force you to stay but maybe just to take your mind off of things?”

“Can’t. Family business.”

You laugh quietly, shrugging your shoulders. “What we wouldn’t do for those we love.”

The walk home from Tommy’s is uneventful, both basking in each other’s silence. It was comfortable and intimate, the only thing interrupting it was the sound of children out playing far too late and drunken men hurling commentary out at anyone that walked by them.

The folks of Brimingham were familiar with the Shelby’s but they aren't familiar with you which is how you became a prime target for unwanted advances. The man had to have been well beyond plastered, for any woman seen with Tommy was assumed to be his.

You couldn’t even understand half of what the agitated bloke was saying, just that he was making weird gestures with hands, pretending to jerk himself off. Others had attempted to warn him and even Tommy moved in for the kill but you stopped him.

“No, no. I want to hear what this lad has to say. What’s this then? You wanna have a go with me? Is this how you approach all the women you like?”

You feign boredom, sticking both hands in the pockets of your coat. You rummage around in your right pocket, discreetly slipping your fingers into the holes of a brass knuckle.

“Yeah, it is. Now, when you’re done with this half starved looking bastard, how about you come home with a real man who can fuck you until-”

Your movements were swift and graceful, as if you had done this a hundred times before. The knuckles smash into the poor man’s face, instantly cracking and breaking his nose. Tumbling onto the ground, you crouch over the drunkard and wail on him until splatters of blood dot your face like a painting.

Tommy watches as you all but kill this man with your bare hands and does absolutely nothing. His overwhelming glare warned the others to back off while you continued, the bystanders knowing what their fate could look like should they interfere.

Panting, you back off the guy, using your free hand to wipe at your face. You spit, step across the moaning body and proceed towards your lodgings as if nothing occurred. Tommy falls in step with you, offering a handkerchief which you accept. While the Forty Elephants appeared to be harmless with crimes of shoplifting and bribery, you had a more rampageous approach to it all. The streets of London had toughened you, like it or not.

At the end of the day, you needed to make sure that you could take care of yourself and if it meant taking another person’s life, so be it.

Tommy had never wanted you more. But nothing good could come out of the two of you being together, you both knew that. It would be similar to chaining two wild dogs together and expecting them not to bite each other's necks off when there’s only enough food for one.

You had the Elephants and London. He had Brimingham and the Blinders. Somewhere, you would meet in the middle but there wasn’t room for overlap. Tommy was sure that being wed to an Elephant meant more turf and control but he wouldn’t dare do that to you. He couldn’t do it to himself. He would come to you whenever he wanted and you’d do the same to him.

Rich straightens up upon seeing your silhouette, clasping his hands together in front of him obediently. He takes one look at your face and reaches inside his coat to grab his gun when you raise a hand out.

“S’alright. Just had a little accident. You know Tommy.”

Rich gives Tommy a once over before relaxing.

“Shall I see you inside, then?”

You gesture at Rich to go on ahead of you, planting yourself firmly in front of Thomas. “No, I think it’s better if we say our goodbyes out here.”

Tommy smiles briefly, lighting yet another cigarette. “You don’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust that I’ll make it back to London tomorrow if you do come up.”

He takes a small step towards you, jawline rigid as he exhales through his nose. “I could leave early, before you wake up.”

“I wouldn’t allow you to.” Plucking the flaming stick out his mouth, you press a wistful kiss to his lips, melting into his embrace as he deepens it.

Hesitant to pull away, you ease back reluctantly. Your hands smooth his across his coat, reaching upwards to tug at his beloved hat.

“When you’re in London, I expect a call.”

Thomas rests his forehead against yours, licking at his dried lips. “I’ll always make sure to pay the Duchess a visit.”

You peck his lips one last time before returning the cigarette. Tommy watches as you disappear inside the hotel, satisfied knowing that you were safe and back in your room. Doubling back to the Garrison, now in full swing for the night, he gets welcomed with a drink from John and a pat on the back from Arthur.

“Tell me brother, what’s it like to be with royalty, eh? Is her pussy made out of gold?” Arthur cracks himself up, thoroughly entertained by his own quip.

“Fuck off, Arthur.” Tommy says dryly, taking a swig of whiskey.

“Did you tell her?”

Tommy raises an eyebrow at John. “Tell her what?”

“About her fuckin’ uncle?”

Tommy doesn’t answer and the two brothers give each other a glance.

“Bloody hell, Tommy-” Arthur starts. Tommy raises a hand and waves him off.

“Of course I didn’t fucking tell her. All that matters is that he’s in the ground, eh? Now get me another bottle and stop whining in my fucking ear.”

Arthur is slow as he departs from his sibling, a lopsided smirk plaguing his face.

Tommy thinks to himself that maybe he should’ve mentioned how your uncle actually died. You were told that he had a nasty fall after a night out of heavy drinking. In reality, it was the Peaky Blinders doing. Not only was your uncle a piece of shit, he also had a gambling problem. He got mixed in with the wrong folks and unknowingly stole money from the Blinders to help pay off a gambling debt. He was sloppy in execution which caught the attention of Tommy.

Upon finding out who actually took his money, Tommy made it a personal mission to seek him out. The man, Ronald, folded like a chair when Tommy and the boys appeared on his doorstep. He cried and begged for mercy, which they showed him none. Especially not after he confessed what he had done to you.

Ronald knew you made it to London and had fallen into some money, so whenever he got into debt he just told people that you were wealthy and would deliver money for his payments. Even after you cut ties with him and tried to kill him, he proceeded to use you.

Tommy wouldn’t have it.

“Oi! Tommy!” Arthur returns with the bottle in hand. “You got any spare cash on ya? I wanna set up a quick date with Beatrice.”

Tommy looks at his brother with slight disdain and rolls his eyes. “I’m not your accountant.”

“Yeah, yeah. I left my wad back at the office. Just cough it up, would ya?”

“If it means I won’t have to look at your face anymore, fine.”

Tommy reaches inside his pants pocket where he normally keeps an emergency stack and finds it empty. Scowling, Tommy pats himself down extensively before the light bulb goes off.

He laughs.

Not a cheeky snicker or a lame jest. Thomas Shelby actually laughs.

Confused but willing to follow his brother anywhere, Arthur begins to laugh as well until they’re both hanging onto each other, gasping for air.

At the hotel, you answer the door to your room, thanking the bellboy for bringing up your dinner. Tucking a hand in your bra, a wad of cash spills out. You grab a handful of it and place it into the hand of the blushing young man. He stammers out a thank you, hightailing it back to the lobby.

You get comfortable in bed, eager to dive into the captivating spread laid out in front of you. Closing your eyes, you fold your hands in front of you in mock prayer.

“Thank you dear lord for this appetizing food and for the Peaky fucking Blinders. Amen.”

#Thomas Shelby x female reader #Thomas Shelby x fem!reader #Tommy Shelby x fem reader #Tommy Shelby x fem!reader #fic: the Duchess of London #Tommy shelby x you #Tommy Shelby x reader

[dearhargrove]

I have no idea if your reqs are open but if they are here’s an idea for a fic

Crybaby!reader x Billy. I will elaborate but like-

Just rlly sensitive and when Billy pushes reader away then their upset and won’t talk to Billy, leading to an argument at school and that night Billy shows up at their window like, “I’m sorry..” but he’s all bashful about it because he feels bad and it’s been nagging him all day.

(Feel free to ignore this lol, I just need some good Billy fluff to angst) - Fynix

Cry baby, cry baby

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: One of Billy's friends makes an offhanded comment about you and when reaching out for your amused boyfriend he pushes you away - leading to a fight and flustered Billy coming to apologize after.

𝔱𝔴'𝔰: insults (towards reader), none that I can think of

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱:

𝔞/𝔫: yep, title's inspired by 'cry baby' from Melanie Martinez! Don't listen to her as much anymore, but this was the perfect title :). Dear @fynixsworld , I hope this is what you hoped for. Very, very sorry that this took so incredibly long - I've been in kind of a slump and got nothing done :')

m.list ❐ navigation

Standing with Billy and his friends was one of the disadvantages in your relationship. Their conversations consisted of who they've slept with, who was going to throw the next party, and boasting around with the most ridiculous things (which oftentimes if not always shocked you that they were proud of some of the things).

Obviously, it wasn't obligatory to stand with them. But after school, there was barely a time you didn't want to go home with Billy - or have him come home with you - so you usually tended to stick around until he left, too.

Today was one of your bad days. A day, where everything got on your nerves and just about everything, as irrelevant as it could be, was going to make you cry.

You cried easily when you were angry, sad, or just emotional and you've grown to hate it. You used to be fine with it - you were just really expressive, there's nothing wrong with that, is it? -, until you cried during class for the first time.

Your teacher had yelled at you in front of everyone, completely humiliating you, and there was nothing you could've done to keep the tears from running.

You will never forget how everyone laughed at you - except some of the more civil ones that send you pitiful glances instead - and how embarrassing it was. The shame because of it didn't leave you for days after.

So when the bell rang, insinuating the end of your last period, you couldn't help the relieved sigh. Your teacher sent you a suspicious look and you flustered, carelessly throwing everything in your bag before fleeing the crowded classroom.

It was summer, only about three weeks left before the summer holiday, and it was hot.

The sun rose early in the morning and not a single cloud was in the sky over the day, the heat boiling you and everyone else alive. Summer meant short skirts and cropped tops wherever you looked, it was no secret that this was the jocks' favorite season after all.

You had decided to go a little out of your comfort zone, wearing a tight dress. It wasn't as colorful as some of the other girls' dresses were, instead a pastel blue that lightly shimmered, the silky fabric flowy and comfortable on your skin. Some delicate jewelry adorned your wrist - a small, silver bracelet that Billy had gotten you for last Christmas. On your fingers was one of his rings, a less bulky one, also silver.

With your bag secured you made your way through the other students that were crowding the hallway and out to the parking lot. There was smoke coming from Billy's group and you wrinkled your nose, smelling it from your place already.

When you walked up next to Billy you had pushed the bad feelings aside, simply leaning against him and waiting for a comment about your outfit.

Instead of doing so, he ignored you, proudly talking about his keg skills he'd proven a while back. Although his arm was secured around your waist you felt rather unwelcome, the missing greeting making you scowl a little.

Telling yourself to just push past it you straighten up and lean into him more, his body heat making the weather less bearable than it already was but lessening the impending feeling of uncertainty you felt.

None of the boys acknowledged you, which you were happy with until they did. It started with a simple comment about your dress and you didn't mind it too much as it wasn't directly an insult whatsoever. But then they continued and Billy just stood there, showing you off proudly. "That's a short dress, sweetheart. You got any plans with him tonight?" One of them asks and your insides crawl at the pet name. When Billy called you that it made you explode with happiness - the intimate name increasing your pulse by tenfold.

"She sure does," Billy smirks and steps on his cigarette to ensure it was out before getting back into the conversation. Now, this was one of the comments you didn't mind but didn't appreciate. This group was the last people you want to have knowledge about your and your boyfriend's sex life, as it ensured even more teasing.

"Dude, the dress is nice and all but she ain't got the body for it." This was a straight punch to your stomach. There was a lot you could take and wouldn't get mad over but you were easily insecure as it is, and in this dress especially. The already bad day just got horrible and tears shoot in your eyes when Billy doesn't even try defending you. Not caring about what they will think, you turn to him, "Will you not say anything? Just laugh with them?"

He looks confused and stays quiet for a second before replying, "What are you talking about?" His voice is slightly aggressive and you could cry - this meant he was in a bad mood or had no intention of even trying to understand you right now.

"You know what, I'll just go home now," you chuckle emptily and turn away.

He catches your wrist in his hand and squeezes a little, not hard enough to hurt but be uncomfortable. "Let me go." Instead, he just pulls you back against his body, the guys behind him laughing with each other while watching the scene.

"You're not going anywhere. Don't be dramatic," you scoff - was he serious right now?

"Don't scoff at me." He says angrily and pulls you back when you try leaving again, making you stumble a little. "I'll do whatever I want. Let go," the tears are still blurring your vision and you have to concentrate not to let them fall while the fight with Billy increases.

He had a short temper and even if his whole anger issues thing had bettered while with you it was still there and it would take longer to fix. You accepted that part of him and you knew well that right now this would lead to nothing, which is why you tried leaving instead of making this worse.

"Nah, you're staying until you explain what the fuck is going on with you," his voice is cocky but demanding and there's a dangerous flint in his eyes. You knew he would never hurt you, the grip around your wrist which you could easily escape proof of this, but this whole situation was too much right now and the fact he didn't even understand your side or stand up for you was close to breaking your 'don't cry in school' rule.

"Oh," it's sarcastic and you know he catches it, so you continue, "Did you even hear what he said to me? Are you, in any kind of way, capable of seeing what's wrong with that? How I feel right now?" He rolls his eyes and that's just about your final push and you rip your arm away.

"See where you're sleeping tonight, don't dare show up at my place." In hindsight it was stupid to leave and not wait for both of you to calm down, because here you were, crying while walking the seven-mile way to your home.

Sweat was mixing with tears and you were soaked through when you finally arrived at your house. Quickly running up the stairs to your room - locking the door of it - you pull off the stupid dress that had ruined your day and throw it in the corner of your room before jumping on your bed, head in the pillow that infuriatingly smelled of Billy's shampoo and cologne.

With a curse falling from your lips you turn to your side and stare out of the window.

This wasn't how today was supposed to go.

-

Back at school, Nancy who had heard the whole exchange due to meeting up with Steve was lecturing Billy angrily. She was a close friend of yours and when she saw you cry she immediately went to set the culprit straight.

So, flustered and with a hurt ego Billy sped off, flipping Nancy off at the same time. He would make you call her later and thank her for making clear why you were upset with him and how to fix it, while simultaneously apologizing for his inappropriate behavior. Usually, he wouldn't care at all, let this random girl be hurt or not - it's whatever.

But if you found out you'd have his head.

The rest of the day was spent preparing a perfect apology, including your favorite shirt of his and those expensive flowers you loved.

Styling his hair took, admittedly, longer than usual as he kept finding stray hairs that weren't sitting right. He'd stopped putting as much effort into his appearance when you started dating, especially when you stopped doing so, too.

Seeing you in your sleepwear, hair messy, made him realize how much you trusted him and he wanted to show you he trusted you too. It was an unusual and secretive way of showing it but it worked for you two, so why not?

Climbing into your window was one thing he'd mastered by now. On the garage roof, rain pipe, and lastly, your window sill. Your window was unlocked at all times for which he scolded you before, it could be just anyone coming into your room after all.

Situating himself he opened the window and silently jumped in, the flowers still undamaged to his luck. Without a sound, he closed the window - locking it - and turned to your bed. You were staring at him, eyebrows scrunched in distaste and tears having left your face red and puffy.

He bashfully smiled at your state and kneeled in front of the bed, the flowers held close to your face. "Came to apologize and make up for what I did," he explains and lays the flowers on your nightstand - making a mental note to put them into a vase later.

"So now you know what you did wrong?" You question and throw him an unbelieving glare. His smile shrinks a little at his stubbornness earlier and he hangs his head, "I'm sorry, princess."

You could fold right then and there but you keep yourself together, waiting for more. "I should've defended you from the stupid comments of the guys. I didn't and started an unnecessary fight instead. Forgive me?" He has his puppy eyes out, and you just melt.

Tears spring into your eyes again and you scoot back a little to make space for him when he settles down next to you - shoes laying in a corner where he discarded them to. "You're an idiot."

He chuckles at that and agrees, playing with your hair. "That I am. Yours though, right?" It's teasing and you softly punch his chest before nodding.

That's when he thinks back to the comment that started your fight. "You looked amazing in that dress, by the way. Got me horny in public," he snuggles his nose against your cheek and places a kiss there before inching closer to your lips.

"Could've said so," you say, still salty about the whole thing.

"Should have, could have… how about I just show you now?" You fluster but comply - who could say no to that, after all?

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #dacre montgomery x reader #dacre montgomery #dacre x reader #billy hargrove angst #billy hargove imagine

[nevernonline]

✽ maybe this means something? ✽ | csc.

001: FALL

Choi Seungcheol used to be the bane of your existence, but through a year of seasonal rotations, something felt different.  It has to be overwhelming realizing you're falling for the person you always thought you hated. 

𐦍 paring: seungcheol x reader. (svt members mentioned)

𐦍 genre: frenemies (sort of), romance, a little angst, fluff.

𐦍 warnings: drinking,  brief mentions of illness, mary jane 🍃,  suggestiveness (sort of) 

𐦍 word count: 2.8k

𐦍 content: non-idol characters, food/drink, cursing, slightly- suggestive, pet names, fem! reader. bff! hao. 

𐦍 notes: every time I listen to Means something by Lizzy McAlpine it makes me think of cheol so I wanted to write a little something with it as inspo, but pls ignore any typos or weird phrasing I'm super rusty when it comes to writing long fics. pls enjoy and give feedback. xo.

intro - fall - winter - spring

Fall: Flashback. 

 Running out of your childhood home faster than ever onto the first day of college felt so exhilarating, the smell of the fall air and the wind pushing your hair back as you sprinted to your car door made you feel free. 

You had around two hours before your first class started, a new start was one of your favorite things. Fresh people, fresh clothes, a new haircut, the smell of new books. 

Pulling up to the curb and wailing on your horn to notify your friend you had arrived, made you giggle. This was such a mundane thing you’ve done for years, switching off weeks driving to school, gossiping about your day, but now it felt new again. 

Xu Minghao, the constant person in your circle, the one who always had your back and took the words out of your mouth. He understood you more than anyone in the world, even your own family, got you into parties, held your hair when you happen to drink too much, and most of all never judged you. 

A slam came from across the lawn in front of you, Minghao strutted down his home's cobblestone passageway like he was living his own Tyra Banks fantasy.

“Goodmorning, Gorgeous.” he says eleated as his long legs stretched into your vehicle. 

“Goodmorning, my love.” you responded, putting your car back into drive. “Coffee?” 

Minghao peered at you under the rim of his sunglasses. “For you, I’ll have orange juice and green tea.” 

A whistle escaped your lips, “Wow, robbing me for all I have I see?” 

“No, but I am trying to teach you healthy habits this year. Are you excited for our first class? I actually can't believe we managed to get nearly the same schedule.” 

“Yeah, well my dad insisted on calling the dean and told him that I had a learning disability so I had to be around you as much as I can.” You said cringing. “Luckily they just made him open his wallet and donate to the art department.” 

Minghao just giggled and rolled his eyes because he knew how your parents were and how much you didn’t want anyone to know. “Listen, maybe this year you should just lean into telling people about your family if they ask. I’m not saying you have to or anything, but pretending to be average when you’re anything but is below you.” 

All you could do was hum at his words. The reason you conceal yourself is because pretending you didn’t have an influential family made people respect all the things you’re able to do more, Hao knew that, but he also knew that you struggled keeping a secret all four years of highschool. 

You pulled your car into the local campus cafe and hopped out only to be met by a group of guys yelling for Minghao. 

“Who are they?” you questioned laughing at the group of excited looking puppies from across the lot. 

Hao mimicked your expression, waving his hands side to side, “Oh, wow. That is the group of guys I met abroad I told you about, they go here too.” He roped his arm through yours pulling you into the lion's den. “You’ll like them, they’re nice I promise.” 

Your feet felt like they couldn’t move staring at the four new faces in front of you, one more gorgeous than the next. There was Jun and Chan the dance majors, Wonwoo the literature major, and Seungcheol the business major. Three out of the four automatically welcomed you into their circle, the fourth Choi Seungcheol was icing you out, for a reason you may never understand. 

“What major are you again, Y/N?” Jun asked as you continued awkwardly sipping your coffee across from him. 

“Oh, I’m an art major same as Hao, mainly digital and my minor is tech and graphic.” You said smiling back thankful he broke the ice for you. 

“Wait cool, I think Cheol is also minoring in tech and graphics. Maybe you guys will share a class too.” 

A smirk came from the male to his right, Seungcheol. Something about him was bone chilling, the pale skin the raven hair, competitive by nature. 

“Don’t ask me to sit with you in class, I don’t do amateur hour.” He said flashing you a gingival smile. 

You just smirked back, “Fine with me, I don’t do asshole hour.” 

And that's where it all started, your ongoing competition with Choi Seungcheol. 

Present: 

It’s been a few weeks since your encounter with the bully himself, you just worked and worked behind your desk, with no chance to be out in the real world. You thought about texting your mom to come and visit for the weekend, but ultimately decided on calling Minghao. 

“Hello, my beautiful working girl. How are we?” you could almost feel his smile through the phone. 

“Love my life, hello. I’m alright, just so busy. I was just wondering what you’re doing all weekend, I desperately need to drink.” 

You laugh and he follows along. “Well, well, well. Finally coming to ask me to rescue you from corporate life, huh? I actually made plans to go watch Jun and Hoshi’s concert this weekend, if you wanted to come? There’s a cast party after and they asked about how you were anyway so you can definitely join.” 

“Wait, they’re in town? I had no idea.” You put Hao through the speaker phone and check your socials. “They literally messaged me two days ago asking if I was free. Maybe I should listen to you more.” 

“I have been trying to influence you for like nearly a decade, y/n. But, come please. It's tomorrow, so we can go shopping tonight, have a little sleep over, and drink for breakfast before we go on Saturday.” 

“Wow, yes. I could kiss you. It’s a date.” 

Hao hummed over the other end of the phone, “Meet me at my place at five, okay?” 

“Okay. I love you, I gotta go, bye.” 

┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄

You nearly sprinted out of your desk as the boring work day you had sped past since your conversation with Hao. And you much like the clock speed as fast as you could to find your oasis at his home. 

“Honey, I’m home.” you yelled, removing your coat and shoes and dropping them in his entryway. 

“Well, hello baby.” A voice spoke, not Minghao, but Seungcheol resting in a large lounge chair watching the news. 

With an eye roll, you greeted him back. “What are you doing here?” 

“Hao told me to meet him here to go shopping for the show tomorrow, what are you doing here?” 

You found your way to Hao’s cloud of a couch and planted yourself on it.  

“Uh, he told me the same thing, we were supposed to just hangout and have some drinks tonight.” 

Your eyes met him again, something about them made you feel bad for being so cold towards him for years. 

“Oh, are you spending the night too?” 

“Yeah, did he ask you to stay as well?" 

Seungcheol gestured to the similar overnight bag resting on the floor adjacent to yours. 

“Yep. Should we fight to the death to see who gets the nicer guest room?” 

“I really don’t think I could kick your ass at anything other than Mario Kart.” 

“Then let’s play, the loser gets to buy all the alcohol and the winner gets the good guest room.” 

Seungcheol’s hand reached towards yours and you decided to take it, like making a deal with the devil. 

┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄

About an hour after virtually driving the rainbow, the front door opened again to reveal Minghao in its threshold holding multiple bags of takeout. 

“Oh, hey you’re both here. I brought food."

You jumped up at the chance to break the closeness with Seungcheol you found and he followed suit behind you to greet your friend and to help him with the bags of food in hand. 

“You did not buy fire noodles again, you will literally be in the bathroom for hours.” 

Seungcheol giggled at you while unwrapping the rest of the food. 

“You know, Hao. I never realized Y/N’s strength really lay in gaming, she gave me a run for my money at Mario Kart.” 

“Shut up, Seungcheol you literally still kicked my ass, enjoy your beautiful guest room.” 

You sat sulking at the dining room table, slurping up your bowl of noodles. 

“No, you can have it. I actually live two floors up anyway, I was just fucking with you to see if you could take the heat.” 

“I see you guys had fun without me.” Hao chuckled. “Did I not tell you Cheol moved into my building recently?” 

“No clearly not, he kicked my ass in Mario Kart and now I have to buy you booze hounds alcohol.” 

Minghao clearly was loving the fact that the plan he had set out to get you to get closer was working. Cheol didn’t pick up on the fact that you knew what Hao was up to and continued eating in silence for a while before speaking back up. 

“You don’t really have to spend your money on us, Y/N.” 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. I’ve been spending my allowance and paychecks on Hao since eighth grade.” 

“Hey! That is not true, our relationship has always been equal.” 

Seungcheol stirred, he always assumed you didn’t have much financially. He’d often wondered in college, how you became friends with Minghao who was definitely better than well off. Was he wrong about you using Hao, sure, but he always thought you benefited from the friendship more than him in other ways then the platonic relationship you shared. 

Too scared to ask without knowing what outcome he’d get from you he decided to excuse himself to the restroom and find out for himself. Cheol sat on the marble tile of Hao’s bathroom sink and searched your name, but no luck, only your professional profiles and instagram hit. 

He searched deeper, and deeper until he stumbled upon an article written in a High School newspaper. 

“Wait, her mom is Mina Lee?” he muttered now searching your first name with a newly founded surname following it.  

Dozens of articles popped up about your family, their finances, their homes, the illness. Stuff Seungcheol would have never expected, all this time he thought you were everything you weren’t, but this, this made more sense. 

He pretended to run the sink water as he bookmarked the article he found talking about the Lee’s hidden children, a gossip blog no less, but maybe it would give him more answers. 

┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄

After hours of shopping, mainly to find Minghao a perfect outfit. You reached your destination, the liquor store. Whipping your card out to hand to Minghao for him and Cheol to spend whatever they wanted to make their night as good as possible, you decided to stay outside and watch the colorful leaves fall. 

Dialing your mom’s number on your phone and waiting for her to answer seemed like forever, but you were eventually met by her soft voice. 

“Y/N? Darling, are you alright?” Hearing a sweet pet name from your mother, no matter how long it's been since you’ve seen her always felt right. 

“Hi, Mom. Yes, I’m okay. I just wanted to check in on you. Is everything alright?” 

“Oh, well good. Your father is feeling better, but I’m not sure his chemo is working as well this time” Your mom just sighed, you could hear the pain through the phone. “Why don’t you come visit for Christmas, okay? We can make hot cocoa together and I’ll fill your stocking with Jelly Beans like we did when you were a kid.” 

“I will. I’ll book my flight when I get back to Hao’s later tonight. Kiss him for me?” 

“Aw, good. Tell Minghao to visit, we miss him too.” 

The sound of the bell on the door rings to alarm you Hao and Cheol were coming back to find you. 

“I’ll force him, I love you, okay?” 

“Alright, dear. We love you, goodnight.” 

As you hang up your phone, you fight back the tickling itch of tears forming in your eyes and fall into step with the two men. 

“We got you that weird sour beer you like, and-” Minghao pulls out a brown bag full of mini bottles of your favorite alcohol. 

“Wow, I see you really treated me and my money well. It’s an honor.” 

You pulled three small bottles out of the bag and handed them to Seungcheol and Hao, twisting off the top of yours. 

“If you guys walk back to Hao’s building with me, I’ll reward you further.” 

You smiled holding up your bottle for a cheers and they followed. 

“Deal.” 

They both smiled and tipped their heads back to get their night started. 

About two blocks from the apartment complex and a few mini bottles of liquor in, you stopped for Hao to run inside a mini mart to grab multiple snacks and a pack of cherry rolling papers you loved. 

“So, Y/N Lee? I was wrong about you wasn’t I?” 

Seungcheol spoke your full name like he was singing lyrics to a song, but it had you confused. 

“What? How did you know that?” 

“I will confess I got confused over dinner before, you guys were saying a lot of stuff and I felt bad asking what it was about so I looked for myself. I’m sorry.” 

Sorry. A word you’d never thought was in Seungcheol’s vocabulary, so you felt it was sincere. 

“It’s alright, it was stupid I lied about it for years anyway. Really, don’t sweat it.” 

“Yeah, that's actually really stupid.” 

That’s all he could respond with, but he did offer an olive branch by opening you a bottle of beer and offering it to you on the sidewalk. 

“Cheers, to getting to know the real you?” Cheol questioned. 

“Yes, cheers to getting to know the real me.”  

┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄

After a change of clothes and more than a few drinks, you dipped out onto Hao’s balcony to roll yourself a joint only to find Seungcheol drink in hand typing on his phone fearlessly. 

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt, I’ll go back inside.” 

“No, I’m finished, you can sit.” 

You nearly stumbled onto the balcony, the alcohol telling your body where to go.

“Isn’t it against your better judgment to send work emails while drunk?” 

He laughed, placing his phone back into his sweatshirt pocket.

“Well, isn’t it against your better judgment to roll a joint while drunk? That shit looks fucked.”  

You didn’t even ask before you were handing over your stash and papers to him. You watched his fingers and they perfectly packed and fixed your work for you. 

“Wow, what the fuck?” 

“I’ve had practice, if you need a teacher.” 

“I’m much better sober, I promise. Plus it’s cold and I can't feel my fingers.” 

Cheol scooted closer to you now holding a lighter up, begging you to spark his good work with his eyes. The flame burned against your lips as you inhaled a big pull from the scented paper. 

“Thanks.” 

You smiled at him as the smoke poured out of your mouth and you offered him your olive branch, a hit. 

He took it with ease and deeply breathed into his lungs to expand his chest. 

Your closeness was now inching dangerous territory. His fingers grazing yours with every pass of the small object burning between you. That’s what always been going on, burning between you, passion, former hatred, sparks. 

“Here, I’ll help you since it got smaller. Open your mouth.” Seungcheol whispering now, his breath hot on your cheeks. 

You just obliged, feeling a little insecure with your mouth open wide watching the smoke leave his lips, you inhaled. 

Maybe it was the high, the setting, or the alcohol finally setting in, but you needed his mouth on yours. 

“Will you kiss me?” 

Without a word from his lips, they came smashing onto yours and before you knew it you were kissing the enemy. 

The feeling of him on you left you with a high you’ve never felt before. He never let go before you were ready, his hands found their natural space on your hips. 

“Can I confess something, y/n?” 

Snuggling into his embrace you nod against his chest, as you fiddle with the ties of his sweatshirt 

“I was only mean to you in college because I had a crush on you. And if we were sober right now, I’d ask you to come back to my place, because I just love being around you.” 

Suddenly your hands stopped moving and he knew he had missed his chance at a confession once again. His arms scooped you up and carried you all the way into your blissful night of sleep in the good guest room. Little did he know you had been awake the whole time and didn’t sleep a minute.

Feeling the way he kissed you when you got too drunk had to mean something.

#❃ - duffytalks #❃ means something #seventeen fluff #seventeen headcanons #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #svt fic #svt reactions #svt texts #svt imagines #seungcheol x reader #seventeen imagines #svt fanfic #svtcreations #svt x reader #svt #svt fluff #svt scoups #svt scenarios #seventeen fic #scoups x reader #scoups fluff #choi seungcheol x reader #scoups imagines #scoups x you

[seuuns]

SLEEPLESS NIGHTS

PAIRING(S) :: idolbf!jungwon x gf!reader

WORDCOUNT :: 1,058

WARNING(S) :: fluff, a little angst if you can call that, just jungwon and reader being the cutest little couple in the world

Tired. That’s all that jungwon was in these last few Weeks days.

Everyone always excepts the poor boy to be the best in everything, they want him to be perfect. Not only had he a packed schedule since their comeback was set to be in a week, but he also has many variety shows to attend. Don’t get him wrong, he loves attending them just as much as he loves working hard to please not only his fans but also the staff and everyone on a daily basis. It’s just the boy is a pure perfectionist.

So by that, it just means he works 24/7. Which also means he also hasn’t been getting any sleep, let alone a break. But on their days off he did try to get sleep. It just hasn’t been working out just the way he wanted it to which frustrated.

He did think about texting or calling you, but he didn’t want to bother since he knows it’s exam season for you. Jungwon thought that it would be very selfish of him to call you so late at night just because he has some Problems sleeping. It just didn’t sound right to him. But it was so tempting since the poor boy hasn’t seen or let alone hear you for like two or three Weeks.

These last few days the group finally managed to get free time since they finished the Comeback a little earlier than expected and were now able to have some time for themselves to freshen up a bit. Yang Jungwon didn’t waste any time to rush to your Apartment. On his way there tho, he felt guilty and his Head were filled with thoughts like ‘ What if she’s still studying?’ ‘ Am I gonna annoy her if I rant to her?’ ‘ What if I talk too much and she sends me to go home?’. But the most important one for him was, will you help him sleep?

He pushed all those thoughts away as he rang your bell which means you’ll probably open the door for him in about 15 seconds. And yes he did memorise how long you take to open the door, it just got tattooed into his brain after ringing that bell oh so often.

And there you were. Looking so flawless and pleasing in his eyes, even if you were just wearing his shirt and your dark blue satin pj pants which dedicated that you probably never left your apartment which isn’t really shocking since it was around Midnight. Your delicate but tired eyes lit up at the appearance of your breathtaking boyfriend in front of your apartment. That was until you realised how late it was, and your Heart stopped beating for a second since it looked like he came all the way to your apartment alone and let’s just say the district you were living in wasn’t the safest in South Korea let alone Seoul.

‘ Have you gone crazy?! Coming here alone this late?!‘ but all of that stopped when you took all of his Features in and saw how tired and worn out he looked. It was the most heartbreaking sight you could ever see. And that also broke your Heart into small pieces. The Yang Jungwon who always shined like the brightest star in the busiest crowds was now dressed in a old hoodie of his, hair all messy and his Nike duffel bag in his right hand. You didn’t even waste a second before ushering him inside your monotone yet comforting apartment.

It kinda shocked you to see him in this state, since Jungwon was the type to take care of himself no matter what happens. The first Thing you did after you both entered your apartment, was to tuck him under a Blanket and put him in your Bed so he feels comfortable. After you did that he just lets his body relax in the comfiness of your Bed. Jungwon always like your Bed more since it was oddly pleasant for him, but he couldn’t figure out why tho? Maybe it was the softness of your Pillows, the smell of your room or perhaps the mattress of the Bed? Whatever it was he was thankful for it.

While your Boyfriend got lost in his Thoughts you made sure to clean your Study Table up since you were already done with your Studies. You also picked out a random novel for you to read since in those 3 Years of dating you noticed that reading calms him down and sometimes even helps him sleeping. Sleep. That’s exactly what Jungwon needs. And he knows exactly that you’re the only one who can help him with this.

As you finished cleaning up you picked out his favourite Book and climbed in the Bed to join the cat looking boy. ‘ jagi, I know you’re feeling tired right know so you don’t have to talk if you don’t have the energy to now. You can talk to me after you wake up.’ That’s one of the Things he loves about you, the Way you never force him to anything and always understand him. The boy rolled over and was now on top of you with his Face in the crook of your Neck. You could hear him Muster out a quiet ‘ Thank you’.

You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle can’t getting over how cute he is. You flipped to the first page of the novel and started reading. You could feel his stiff tensed body relax after you started reading. About 5 Minutes in, you could hear his snores. Just before he fell asleep he could only think about how grateful he was for you since you helped him end his Sleepless Nights. You closed the Book and put it on your Bedside table, but you didn’t turn the Lamp off. Quite the opposite you didn’t go to sleep. Since you haven’t seen each other for Weeks you wanted to use this Time to take all of his Features in again. You couldn’t ignore the way he got a perm (which looked a bit too good on him if you’d be asked). After a few minutes you could feel the Tiredness take over and finally fell asleep after you turned the lights off and cuddled Jungwon.

A/N :: FINALLY THIS ENDED. OMG IT FELT LIKE FOREVER AND PLS TELL ME YOUR OPINION ON THIS FIC SINCE ITS AGAIN MY FIRST TIME.

#enhypen #enhypenwriters #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x you #enhypen jungwon #jungwon #yang jungwon #enhypen jungwon x reader #heesung #enhypen jay #park jongseong #enhypen jake #sim jaeyun #sunghoon #kim sunoo #ni ki enhypen #seeuns #enhypen oneshots #enhypen x female reader

[summertimemusician]

Linktober (Shadow) 2023

Spirit

Welp turns out my exam season throughly steam rolled through my general Linktober plans, so you get this VERY late thing for now folks who find this, at least until I decide whether to continue this until I finish it even though it's no longer Linktober or if I'll make whatever other stories come later their own thing after exam season is over (mostly because the original for this one is my preferred draft, and that I feel the one for the Link/Dark Link prompt would be kind of wasted if it just sat there collecting dust cause I worked hard on the tension and horror there lord darn it, along with a few others mainly involving Fae Hyrule, Twilight, Time, First, among other Links like Legend, Sky, Warriors, just all of the boys, I wanted to give them all proper spotlight and still want to do that in any way I can). Welp. *Downs coffee like a shot* Also really need to find out how to make a Masterlist on mobile, figure out how AO3 works and answer asks.

Anyway, not really any warnings this time besides Reader Not Being Okay (par the course really) and angst.

As always can be read as either romantic or platonic, Reader is gender neutral on purpose, technically is meant to be read as either Hero's Shade Time x Reader or First x Reader mainly, but you can interpret it as any Link really lol

Good reading!

This corner of Faron Woods was quiet this time of year.

The woods were solemn in this Hyrule, the sliver of moonlight barely enough of a guide through the mist, it was silent but for the soft padding of animals through the underbrush and the howl of a wolf in the distance (not Wolfie's, not musical enough). The stars were your only company as you were separated from the group, the air was cold agaisnt your skin as you attempted to find your way.

Being alone in the forests of Hyrule never spelled anything good for anyone, but as you felt the brush of a hand tenderly twined in yours, the ghost of leather and the faint clinking of steel, and a faint glow of pale gold and ivory cutting through the veil of the night, mindful of roots you may trip onto and never flickering too far out of sight you couldn't feel safer, even  if instead something like melancholy threatened to lock your throat with the chains of silence, you felt as warm as the soft twilight glow and as frigid as ice, frostburned with the bitter cold of your own warring emotions.

You can't help but chuckle a bit whille holding a old scabbard close to your heart, it's a wry sound, "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

There is no answer, of course there isn't, but you don't mind, you know he'll listen, thorns wrap around your heart and crawl up your throat, the smell of lilies and steel coats and sticks in your throat like honey, or maybe blood, "... I didn't think you'd show up, you know? I always considered the possibility but..." You trail off, you feel something brush your side, you can only see him in the corner of your eyes or with a passing glance, there but not, existing but gone, so you keep your eyes on the road and in the flicker of light, so you carefully don't look to your side, you don't think you could contain the shaking in your heart otherwise, to stare at inevitability and prophecy, "... I know, I know you're fine. At least for now, I apologize for all the trouble I gave you."

'It's alright. It could never be a hardship aiding you.', the voice echoes in your ears, and you swallow thickly, breath hitching, the warmth of the sun in the fields of Hyrule, the wind caressing your hair, the song of the animals in Faron Woods, someone holding you carefully, fondly. The warmth of your hand in his. Not really here, but not gone either, more feeling than true echo.

You chuckle, and try to pretend it's not a bit breathless, something like a wounded keen, "... You're too kind. Too, too kind, thank you."

Spirits in Hyrule never spell anything good, in this wild land of light and shadow in a gestalt of divinity. There are some exceptions though, even if it hurts to witness then. So you follow him through the dark, certain that as you've guided his way once, he'll lead you now to where you need to go.

----------------------------------------------------------

... The clearing he leads you to is open, but by no means truly quiet among the trees, there is no peace to be found for the armored skeleton here. You choke on sorrow, on unfinished business, on the cruelty of being brought to ruin and being denied peace, and you stumble towards the familiar figure, almost in a trance as your vision blurs, roots and thorny vines wrap over rusted armor and a thorn cape, the skeleton's void sockets piercing through your soul, illuminated by the solemn gaze of the wretched moon and it's uncaring maids of honor in the stars.

You fall to your knees near the decaying skeleton, biting back against the wounded sound that attempts to leave your throat with enough strenght to bleed, you lay the scabbard by his side with a bouquet of lilies and shiver at the gentle, phantom touch, so soft, so loving it almost leads you to ruin all over again.

'... It's foolish to grieve for someone who isn't gone yet.' the thought comes to you, yet you can't help it. You still hurt for him, you still hold onto the fury at the heavens themselves for denying them quietus. For denying them rest over and over and over again. To watch this cycle and be helpless to stop it all due to the will of uncaring gods.

Alive. Dead. Alive. Dead. Denied full rest over and over again, to watch the chance at rest to the kindest of souls found in this world you found yourself in.

You barely register the touch to your cheek, ephemeral as it is, as you can't help but shed tears, can't help but grieve. Because if you don't, who will?

You know by now that some wounds can never heal, some rifts can never be mended. Even with the guarantee of cyclic, eternal rebirth, some things never return to how they were. And reminding yourself of this inevitability to them will never not hurt, even if you know it's futile to blame anyone but the one god who started this, and maybe the goddess who stood complacent to it. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth that it'll one day come to this, that the frost of death and the sharpness of pain will leave a mark the sands of time can't scar over.

You reach a trembling hand towards the one in your cheek, try to find catharsis in the remains of decayed, dead yet ever eternal, ever growing love. And you breathe.

'We'll meet again. So do not mourn for me, please.'

You don't think you could deny him if you tried. Not when you know he's trying to soothe you, to thaw your sorrow. To allow your heart's healing to fallow.

"We will, I know. I'm sorry for making you worry." You chuckle, leaning into the cold, trying to brand the memory of the shadowed, but not gone love given to you so you can return it in kind. Just until you meet again, just until you can give all you can to his not yet decomposing self, grasping onto what remains of him, "I love you."

'I love you too. Until we meet again.'

The cold is gone, the echo of love leaves. And you breathe, and pretend you don't feel empty.

(When you see Link again, reuniting with the Chain on the next day's twilight. You hug him as tight as you can, and hope you he doesn't notice the tears in your eyes. And that you don't feel the lingering traces of a frigid embrace.

When no one is looking, you wave goodbye to the shade. And pray he dreams of warmer days until he finds quietus.)

#linked universe x reader #hero's shade x reader #linked universe time x reader #first x reader #hylia's chosen hero x reader #first link x reader #also know as What Happens When Summer Watches Corpse Bride after Playing MJM #I'll never not be emotional about the Hero's Shade and how it's an inevitability that Time will always die relatively young #how First died alone in the surface and likely never got a proper burial #And the fact we never learn what happens to the heroes after the task is done and THE ONE INSTANCE #we do is to learn they died young in some manner (ex Time. The Link before Hyrule. First. #Probably Twilight if we go by the theory Wolfie in BOTW is a spirit sent to help Wild #Technically pre calamity Wild because losing your memories is technically death of identity although that's for another story #and related to Lost #Most of the more effective LoZ games present themselves as either dark fairy tales and I'm running with that concept #Plus it's literally LEGEND of Zelda. Hardly do things end well for protagonists in actual legends and mythology involving gods #I think I have a right to worry #Anyway I'll probably elaborate more later because I'm tired lol #gotta perish to tackle studying and THEN be free to start on the pages long LU/LoZ essays /jk #unless? #we'll see #summer writes linktober 2023 #summer writes linktober shadow 2023 #summer writes #this short fic was also brought to you by the death holiday we have here in my country because it always makes me sad #and thinking of the Hero's Shade and what happens to First basically made it Depression times 100 lol

[singsweetmelodies]

AKA: angst, miscommunication and a/b/o, feat. brief/mentioned maxierre with piarles endgame (+ implied maxiel.) happy birthday @boxboxbrioche my love

"Hello, Charles," Max smiles when Charles runs into him (literally) in the Budapest paddock on Thursday. He's wearing the same Red Bull team shirt and jeans as ever, naturally, but something about him looks unusually relaxed and content. Sated, even.

Probably because he's been winning practically every race this season, Charles thinks. That's enough reason for anyone to be looking relaxed and content.

Still, when he steps in a little closer to fist-bump Max's proffered hand, he can't help but notice it. Max's scent is... more than just content. He smells like he's only just come out of heat, and whoever was taking care of him did a very good job of it. He doesn't smell like sex, precisely, but he smells like what Charles would imagine afterglow would, if it had a scent. Golden and lazy and sated.

Oh, he's got blockers on, of course, but Charles has always been blessed (or cursed, depending how you look at it) with a very good nose. So. He knows immediately.

Some too-perceptive instinct is telling him that the timing of this heat has something to do with Daniel's return to racing this weekend. Almost like Max... wanted to get his heat over with before he saw Daniel again?

...That's a big stretch, of course, and Charles would never dare say it out loud. (Except to Pierre, maybe, because Pierre loves theorising about the latest paddock gossip just as much as Charles does.)

So he just smiles politely at Max, and says "Hello" back, and wishes for Pierre to appear out of some corner of the paddock somewhere. It isn't that Charles hates Max, or whatever the media likes to spin, but it's also true that Max isn't Charles' most favourite person in the paddock. (Obviously, that honour goes to Pierre.)

No, Charles' and Max's relationship is simply that of colleagues - good enough, if a little bland.

Which is why Charles is not expecting it at all when Max leans a little closer with something that looks almost like a conspiratorial grin. Charles has no idea what Max might want to be conspiratorial about with him - it's not as though he's leaving Ferrari anytime soon, despite what everyone likes to speculate.

Surprisingly, what Max says to him is not racing or incident-related at all. "Do you know where Pierre is?" he asks, as though Charles is the most reliable source of the Alpine driver's whereabouts. (Charles shouldn't be, but he's very flattered.) "I still need to thank him."

"Thank him?" Charles echoes, a little puzzled. "For what?"

And then Max says the one thing that blows apart Charles' world and turns his day upside-down immediately. "For agreeing to spend my heat with me so last-minute."

He says it so casually, too, and Charles...

Well. Charles knows that many of the other unbonded omegas on the grid like to spend their heats with other drivers. This might seem contradictory at first, but the thing is - while they might not necessarily trust each other on track, you can always rely on the fact that another driver, at least, won't reveal details of that hook-up to the press anymore than you will. Most of the alpha drivers on the current grid are decent enough people off-track that you can trust you'd be taken good care of, too.

It's something that Charles has done himself, too, once or twice - mostly with Alex, who is always incredibly kind about it, and makes sure Charles is comfortable and well-hydrated afterwards.

But mostly, Charles spends his heats alone. He schedules them carefully so they won't interfere with races, and then he bears them on his own, teeth gritted as he works himself open over and over again and clings to whatever article of Pierre's clothing he can find nearby.

It's never good enough, never, but Charles has never really wanted another alpha. He only goes to Alex if his body genuinely cannot go without it anymore, and then it's purely a case of friend helping out a friend.

So, really, Charles has no reason to be this shocked that Max apparently spent his most recent heat with Pierre. The two of them are friends, aren't they? Much better than Charles and Max have ever pretended to be. There's no reason why they wouldn't spend a heat together, really.

Except...

Charles grits his teeth, and it's only years of media training that enables him to still pass it off as a smile. "He did?" he asks, tightly.

Max laughs, still happily unaware that he's taken Charles' day and shattered it like a glass breaking into unrecognisable shards. "Yes," he confirms, and then he bumps Charles' shoulder, almost unbearably conspiratorial again. "You, of course, would know why I now need to thank him."

No amount of media training in the world could have helped Charles keep up his smile in response to that. Max notices - how could he not - and his own smile falls. "You two have not...?" His voice rises up in the end, like he almost can't believe he even has to ask the question.

Charles tastes something sour in his mouth, and by the way Max flinches back, he's sure it must be all over his scent as well, blockers be damned. "No," is all Charles says, brusquely.

Max opens and closes his mouth for a moment, and then he reaches for Charles' shoulder. He hesitates, though, hand hovering awkwardly in the space between them. "I'm sorry," he says, and it sounds sincere. "For assuming. The two of you are so..." He makes a face. "You are good friends, so I thought if he would do it for me, he would of course do it for you too."

"No," Charles says again, and the word tastes acrid in his mouth. "We have never."

Not for lack of trying, Charles thinks bitterly, and then he forces himself to think of something else. Some excuse that Max will accept.

Fortunately, a little gaggle of people in bright Ferrari red are passing by, and Charles latches onto them with almost too much relief. "Ah, my team," he says, pointing. "I need to go."

It's stupidly obvious, as excuses go, but Max has the grace not to mention it. He just watches Charles go, biting his lip.

Charles wants to hate him. He wants to hate him more than anything else - for having a race-winning car, and a team that supports him properly, and championships, but more importantly than any of that, Charles wants to hate him for having Pierre.

It's not that Charles thinks Max is actually in love with Pierre, or even that they're courting. No, it was clearly just a case of friend-helping-out-friend. But even that is...

Unbearable. It is unbearable, because Charles hasn't had even that much.

Charles had only asked once, and only because he'd been stupid with pre-heat already and not thinking straight. Pierre's long, long silence before he'd said, very gently, "Charles... I don't think that's a good idea" had told him all he'd needed to know, anyway.

After that heat, though, Pierre had called Charles and made sure he was okay, and that he knew it wasn't personal, Pierre just didn't think it was a good idea to get that involved with another driver. Especially one who's also a friend.

Charles had accepted it at the time, and he's never had any reason to think that Pierre has changed his mind in any way.

Except now here Pierre is, apparently spending heats with Max fucking Verstappen, of all people. And, really. Out of everyone on the grid - every goddamn omega - it had to be Max, didn't it?

A part of Charles wants to fall to the floor in devastation, wants to tear at his hair and shake and cry to anyone who will listen, why doesn't he want me, why doesn't he want me?

But Charles remains standing, because even more than he's heartbroken, he's furious.

Pierre did not help Max through his heat because they're in love, or because they're courting. So, he must have done it as a favour to a friend.

Then why the hell would he not do the same for Charles?

Charles also asked him as a favour to a friend (and yes, maybe Charles wanted more, but he wasn't stupid enough to ask for that. He'd just asked for a favour, the way every unbonded omega on the goddamned grid asks their alpha friends for favours every once in a while.)

Pierre had said no, and that he doesn't do that. But he'd forgotten to mention the part where he apparently does do that.

If he were here, Charles might slap him clean through the face. It's not an urge he's often had when it comes to Pierre (or ever, really) but today...

Today. It's just. What the hell does Max have that he doesn't? Max and Pierre are friends? Charles and Pierre are better friends. Max is an omega? So is Charles, and he's better at that, too.

It's obviously not even about looks! Because Charles doesn't want to be rude, but he is definitely better-looking than Max. It's just a fact, as true as "the grass is green" or "Charles is Monégasque" or "Charles is in love with Pierre."

No. Fuck that. None of this makes sense.

If Pierre is willing to spend a heat with Max, then there's no reason why he can't help Charles through one, too. It's not like Charles is asking Pierre to love him back - no, he's long since made his peace with the fact that that, at least, is impossible.

Charles has always wanted too much, though, and if he sees even the faintest chance of getting what he wants, even if it is just in the form of a favour to a friend -- well. He will never not go for the gap.

So Charles waits, increasingly impatient, for his media and team obligations to be done for the day. As soon as they are, he heads for Alpine, because there is no way Pierre will have left already - he is far too dedicated to them, staying behind extra hours to learn as many names as he can and give as much feedback as possible and help with everything that needs helping.

Right, because isn't Pierre just so incredibly helpful. Normally, this would make Charles smile, fond - but today, it makes him want to snarl.

Helpful, yes. Except to him, apparently.

No. Charles will not accept that.

Various team members glance up when Charles storms into the Alpine hospitality, freezing with coffees half-way to their lips and tracking him like the spectators to a tennis match as he storms across their building and towards the driver's rooms. One particularly brave soul ventures an "Er..." but Charles is already across the room before he's even finished saying it.

Charles knows the way to Pierre's driver's room as easily as he knows the way to his own (incidentally, it's on the same side of the building) and it's mere seconds later that he's bursting through the door of Pierre's driver's room.

Pierre freezes when the door slams open, mouth caught in a comically surprised expression, but it relaxes quickly into a fond (if still somewhat surprised) smile. "Charlito!" he says, standing up and reaching a hand in Charles' general direction. "This is a nice surprise."

But Charles is not in any mood for pleasantries. "Did you spend a heat with Max," he asks, but it's not really a question as much as it is an accusation, pointed and sharp.

Pierre freezes again, the smile slowly dropping off his face. His scent goes bitter with unpleasant surprise. "I -"

"If you lie to me, I am going to slap you," Charles says, injecting the words with just enough of a snarl that Pierre will know he's not messing around.

Pierre's expression goes from shocked to hurt to angry almost faster than Charles can process. "I wasn't going to lie to you, Charlo. I would never. Not with you."

He sounds sincere enough about it that Charles almost feels guilty, but then Pierre adds, "He's just a friend who needed a favour" and Charles is right back to furious.

"I was a friend, and I needed a favour," Charles says bitingly. He doesn't have to say anything more, because he knows Pierre will understand exactly what he means.

Pierre's face shutters, closing off completely. Even his scent goes blank, like Pierre is deliberately shutting off every part of himself. "That's different."

"How?" Charles hisses at him, and Pierre obviously wasn't expecting the vehemence of it, because he stumbles a step back. "How the hell is it different, huh?"

Pierre's expression does something complicated, and he makes a rough noise, low in the back of his throat. "It just is," he says, and refuses to elaborate.

Charles is livid. "It just is?!" he explodes. "Tell me how it just is, Pierrot, because I sure as fuck don't get it. I am your friend - non, I am your best friend - but when I ask for this favour, you say no. Then when it is Max, you say yes?"

"It's different," Pierre says again, sharply, as though sharpness alone will make Charles drop the subject.

He really doesn't know Charles if he thinks that will work. "It is not different. Not at all. What, unless you are trying to say that you don't want me?"

"Of course I-" Pierre starts, then cuts himself off with a groan, dragging a hand down his face. "I don't want to do this with you, Charles."

"Well, I want to do this with you," Charles retorts, unfazed and as fuming as ever. "What is it, huh, Pierre? You prefer Max over me?"

"Of course not," Pierre says, and he has the audacity to sound almost offended.

"But you must, if you fucked him and not me," Charles snaps. He's not entirely sure what he's trying to accomplish here, but he knows - he knows that he's furious, and Pierre is being a fucking asshole, and he needs Pierre to admit that much. At least.

Pierre, however, seems determined to continue being a stubborn asshole. "It wasn't like that," he insists, and Charles sees red.

"It's exactly like that! I asked you to fuck me, to help me through my heat, and you said no because you do not want me."

And that, somehow, is the last straw.

"Shut up, Charles," Pierre growls - actually growls - at him. "Just, shut up. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I don't?" Charles snaps right back, goading. "Why don't you tell me, then?"

Pierre snarls again, guttural and furious, and Charles knows that he should be terrified. But right now, he's far too furious to care.

"Tell me," Charles goads again, because he knows that nothing will ever compel Pierre as much as a challenge will.

Pierre is breathing hard, his fists clenched, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly. "You think you know what happened with Max, huh?" he asks, and Charles has never heard him sound like that. Despite himself, it sends a thrill through Charles' whole body. "You think you know what I want and don't want?"

Charles lets his belligerent silence do the talking for him, and Pierre's eyes flash. "Well, do you know that none of it is true? Do you know that none of the rumours of me with all those omegas are true?"

"What do you--" Charles begins, but Pierre cuts him off with a single hand held up, raised as sharply as a slap.

"Do you know, Charlito," he says, almost viciously, "that I've never been able to date any other omega for longer than a few months because I was always comparing them to you?"

Charles jolts where he stands, all the breath wrenched from him. "What--"

But Pierre doesn't give him a moment to process that. "Do you know that I only agreed to spend this heat with Max because he was desperate and out of options?"

"Do you know," Pierre continues, dangerously soft, "that I had to think of you just to be able to come at all?" He stalks a single step closer to Charles. "Do you know that I had to pretend it was you all the time just so that my knot wouldn't go down?" Another step, and Charles is shaking all over, but he can't move. Pierre has him pinned down, completely rooted to the spot with his scorching gaze and world-ending words.

"Do you know," Pierre concludes, softest of all, "why I really said I wouldn't spend a heat with you?"

Charles isn't sure how he even manages to form the word. "Why?"

Pierre's eyes are so, so dark as he stops just in front of Charles, raising one hand to ghost just millimetres above Charles' collarbone. "Because," he says, and his voice is rough. "I knew that if I did, Charles, if I fucked you even just once, I wouldn't be able to hold back. I would bite you, then and there, and I would make you mine."

All the while that he's been speaking, Pierre has been tracing his fingers upwards, a slow, slow torturous slide mere centimetres above Charles' skin. Charles can almost feel the heat of his touch, almost but not quite, and when Pierre stops just below Charles' mating gland - Charles whines and shudders forward, the combination of Pierre's hand there and that word mine too much for him to resist.

Pierre's fingers touch the overheated skin of Charles' mating gland, and the world explodes.

Charles' knees buckle, and his head spins, and he has to press his thighs together in a desperate effort to ease the sudden and burning need there. He's wet, he can feel it, leaking slick all over the place just from that one touch.

Pierre jerks his hand back, of course, but even that split-second of contact was enough to destroy Charles perfectly.

Pierre is panting, and he looks about as wrecked as Charles feels. "So do not stand there and tell me that I don't want you, Charles," he says, and his voice shakes - anger or desperation, Charles can't tell. "Not when I have done nothing but want you for as long as I have known how to want."

Charles shudders, the full weight of Pierre's words sinking in on him all at once. As Charles stands there, processing, he watches as the world rearranges itself entirely.

Charles breathes in, and then he breathes out. "Fuck you, Pear," he says, only a little shakily. "No, seriously, fuck you. How obvious do you need me to be? I literally asked you to spend my heat with me!"

For a moment, Pierre looks so indignant that he forgets to be angry. "You asked it as a favour to a friend!" he protests. "I just said, I can't do that! Not if it's you."

"Yeah, well," Charles says waspishly, "I only asked it like that because I thought you would say no otherwise."

And all at once, Pierre's expression transforms as he comes to the same sudden and brilliant realisation Charles just had.

"Charles," he says, shell-shocked. "If you're saying what I think you're saying..."

He glances down at his hands, clenches them tightly into fists again, then looks back up at Charles, his gaze burning. "You have to know, you can't take it back. I'm not going to let you take it back. Not if you mean it."

"God, Pierre, you are so fucking stupid," Charles says, and alright, maybe he is still a little angry about the whole situation, after all. (He thinks he has the right to be, though.) "Why do you think I was so angry that you went for Max?"

When Pierre doesn't say anything immediately, Charles snaps off a sharp step into Pierre's space, flicking his fingers against Pierre's forehead. "Yeah, it's because I wanted you to choose me. Only me."

Pierre's hand comes up, grabbing Charles' wrist in a bruise-tight hold. He draws Charles' hand away from his face, but then he doesn't let go, just keeps holding on, fingers circling Charles' wrist like they're meant to fit there. "Only you?" he echoes, and it sounds like a question.

Charles nods, because there was never any other answer, and he's about to say it, too, but then Pierre kisses the words right off his mouth.

If Charles' world hadn't already exploded so thoroughly earlier, then it would now.

It's a good kiss. No, it's better than a good kiss - it's a fucking incredible kiss; Pierre's one hand still wrapped around Charles' wrist while the other finds its way to his waist, like it belongs there. Pierre kisses him like he's still a little angry, but also like he's never meant anything more, pouring every part of his soul into it. Pierre kisses him like he's already imagining the night they're going to spend together after this, and he kisses Charles like how he's planning to fuck him later.

Charles has no objections to that. None at all.

Well. Except the one.

He pulls away from the kiss, pressing his palm hard to the side of Pierre's face. "You're going to spend my next heat with me," he says, orders more like, and it's far too possessive, but he can't bring himself to care. Not one goddamned bit.

Pierre growls, low in his throat, and pulls Charles even closer to him. "No, chéri," he says, too-softly. "I'm going to spend every single heat with you from now on. Forever."

"Forever," Charles breathes, and then he kisses Pierre again, hard, making it a promise. "Forever."

#posted this at 01:16 which is not QUITE 1016 but as close as i could get on this fine evening #HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRIONYYYY #myfic #piarles fic #10 x 16 #maxierre #(technically) #(they're really only there as a plot device to get us to piarles endgame) #in other news WHOA MY GOD THIS GOT LONG #(who's surprised....) #but i SWEAR the intention was just to write you something short and sweet for your birthday today since #since we'll only be releasing the main fic later #(well; i say short and sweet; but i don't think SWEETNESS was ever the intention. i wanted to write possessiveness) #(and also miscommunication and misunderstanding and all them GLORIOUS angsty tropes) #and since i have absolutely no self-control to speak of... here we are #BRIONY. my love. i love you so much #please accept this humble offering of my first ever publicly posted a/b/o on the occasion of your birthday #sorry for making the boys angry at each other but i unfortunately think it's very hot to make them scream confessions at each other #hot angry confessions... CHEF'S KISS #and i really hope you like this too!! and go as insane as i did over certain lines #because by God... i fear that you have created a monster #now that i have discovered a/b/o i am NEVER LOOKING BACK #this was so fucking fun to write oh my god. JEEZ #but anyways!! getting distracted here #HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN MY LOVE #and before you say this is too much.... NO. we can never celebrate your birthday too much #this is just more proof to that end #LOVE YOU ENDLESSLY ❤️❤️❤️ #briony's birthday bonanza 😘

[rainthespiritual]

Electric Love ~ Dot

An American Horror Story AU fic Based on season 2, asylum.

TRIGGER WARNINGS TAKE SERIOUSLY :

Angst, electroshock therapy, torture, it being asylum is itself a trigger warning, depression, forced medication, self harm, suicide, litteraly everything bad like that please be warned thank you 🙏

Plot : You're a patient in the asylum with kit

status : slightly edited

A/n : Idk how long this will be but I plan on making it atleast a couple parts... probably a series..

"Please stop! STOP it!" you cry, trying to pull your arms away from the two guards dragging you. You look around trying to make sense of where you are again but you immediately regret it as it all comes back. The darkness around consumes you and you truly ask yourself if you are in hell.

"No.. no no no NO NO PLEASE LET ME GO!" you scream again and again seeing the same walls you've seen.. again and again, the same place you were condemned to the place you are trapped, like a mouse in some sick maze. Darkness all around you in every corner, lingering in the air even. The same sickening song playing again and again in the common room, making you more nauseous with every note and every tune. The record player taunting you daily, you swear it's asking you to bash it in. To destroy it. You want nothing more than to lift up that stupid ugly thing, over your head and crack.. Oh the release youd feel is almost worth the punishment.

Most of the time you barely can understand what's around you anymore, it's all so familiar but also so foreign. Unknown to you it's a side-effect of the pills they force down your throat, and you sadly have no choice. You either take them or some sick man you don't know will hold your nose closed forcing you to open up to breathe but instead of air, you get the sick salty taste of fingers and medicine that never seems to go away, instead it lingers. Those damn pills taste terrible even just sitting them on your tounge to swallow makes you nauseous. Hell everything about this damn place made you nauseous the people, the smells, the air, the pills, the treatment and you could go on and on and on If you were sober enough.

The irony smell in the air, reminiscent of blood never seemed to go away and you can recognize it on the hands of some of the staff, 'why' you wonder 'why do their hands smell like blood and death'. The answers you've seemed to come up with terrify you to no end so you prefer to ignore it, to take the pills. Even though they don't seem to help much at all.

You open your eyes not even realizing they've been shut, you feel weirdly numb. But not so numb you feel nothing, just numb enough to be dazed and confused just how they like it. Compliant and scared. They say things to you that you now realise mean nothing, 'thisll fix you, you'll be happy.' , 'just let God into your heart and you'll be alright.' but it's proven again and again to be utter bullshit, everything is utter bullshit. You pray over and over begging for forgiveness, begging to feel anything but this, anything but the excruciating feeling of lonliness and utter dread you feel almost constantly and nothing gets better, you don't get fixed. Maybe it's you or maybe it's the life you've lived or the choices youve made. Or maybe just maybe it's nothing at all, just randomly selected torture that truly means nothing at all. Gathering all the strength you have left you try to kick out, but these two men are bigger, stronger, and alot less doped up than you are. The drugs you're forced to take keep you weak so you wont fight back, but that doesnt stop you from atleast trying.

  Finally, you fall limp in their arms knowing what's going to come next, the worst kind of pain imaginable. One that does damage inside and out, melting your brain more and more every day. Sister Jude had caught you the previous day, or maybe week? It's so blurry you can't truly remember. But the gist is she caught you trying to cut yourself with a piece of sharp metal you had found on the floor somewhere, though now you can't completely remember the whereabouts. Stitched up and at least somewhat healed now, Sister Jude decided to resume your treatments. All you can do now is sob, and pray that it is over soon to a God that never listens.

"Please.." The guards finally strap you down, ignoring your pleas and sobs.

 After a while of silence, Sister Jude finally walks into the room followed by Dr.Arden. "Please Sister, please! I'm begging you please don't do this to me, please. I'LL BE BETTER!" you sob even harder screaming as they forcefully open your mouth to shove a mouth guard inside, your screams now muffled unable to speak.

 You look into Sister Jude's eyes with a pleading look, hoping that maybe just for once she will let you off easy with just a couple welts. Her eyes stare into yours and for a moment, just a moment, you feel that she actually feels bad. The looks in her eyes similar to yours makes you want to scream out but you stay silent knowing you won't be heard. Her mouth opens a bit, you assume to speak. But instead she jumps slightly, startled by the scratchy voice of Dr.Arden.

   "Shall we get on with it?" he sounds impatient, his expression looking eager. You shut your eyes, hot tears still running down your face. Even just hearing Dr.Arden's voice sent chills down your spine. Something about him was evil. It  was almost like he enjoyed the torture.

  "Don't worry ___ we'll get you all fixed up," Sister Jude whispers wiping the tears from your sticky face ", you need to accept God into your life fully if you truly want to get better young lady." just like that her face is serious again and the little bit of hope you had is gone. It's good to not have hope in a place like this, but it's only human nature. Dr.Arden brings the tool to your temple, and finally, the torture begins. You scream out, feeling the electricity pulse throughout your body. Until at some point everything turns black, and your mind goes silent. Maybe this is the end.

#Ahs #american horror story #serious angst here #evan peters #ahs #ahs asylum #american horror story kit walker #american horror story asylum #anyways kit walker is my husband..... #kit walker #kit walker fanfic #angst fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #evan peters fanfic #asylum #electric love #electro shock therapy ouch #hope yall like cuz im proud of myself #asylum is a weird but also great season 👍

[amazingmaeve]

BONNIE GOLD FIC RECOMMENDATIONS!

follow each and everyone of these authors because they take time out of their days to write these AMAZING pieces of work.

also don’t forget to like and comment your love about all of these fics because they deserve it!

next time ➵ @fromforeigntofamiliarity

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cursed land ➵ @zablife

summary ➵ Set during Season 4 Bonnie and his pregnant wife have come to Birmingham with the rest of the Gold family to help Thomas Shelby fight the Italians.  His wife has visions cautioning him about staying in Birmingham for too long, but what happens when Bonnie ignores these warnings and gets caught up in the lifestyle promised by the Shelbys? Lots of angst and heartache, but followed up by visions of hope.

angel ➵ @peakyblindersxx

summary ➵ after a fight, you're the only thing on bonnie's mind.

forever and a day ➵ @sinfulshelbys

summary ➵ I finally found a acc that writes good shelby reader fics can you write a shelby sis with bonnie gold

teenagers in love ➵ @sinfulshelbys

summary ➵ Forever and a day part two where the Shelby’s find out about them 💖

i want a baby ➵ @bonniesgoldengirl

summary ➵ A slip of your tongue in the middle of sex has you and Bonnie making a life changing decision

desperate times ➵ @bonniesgoldengirl

summary ➵ After a long day of training, Bonnie comes home exhausted to find you needy for him. Too tired to do much, Bonnie proposes that you ride his thigh to deal with your arousal

heart of gold ➵ @murswrites

summary ➵ You two fought hard for your first date and Bonnie made sure to go all out for you.

young lovers ➵ @lilahisntsadanymore

summary ➵ A special sparkle blinked in Y/n's eyes the first time she met Bonnie Gold. Tommy noticed what's going on, so he helped the love blossom between these two young people.

stay ➵ @zablife

summary ➵ It’s the night before your wedding to Bonnie, but you can’t sleep because of a raging thunderstorm. Despite tradition, he visits you to calm your nerves. 

good luck token ➵ @christinasyellowflowers

summary ➵ You offer Bonnie a small token before the match begins

best christmas gift ever ➵ @peakyblinders1919

summary ➵ The frigid air coming in from the east in conjunction with the stillness brought on by white snow clouds in the sky suggested winter. The smell of firewood, pine, cinnamon-flavored mull whiskey further suggested it was nearly Christmas. It is all strengthened by the songs traveling through the hills from the makeshift band, bored gypsies trying to keep fingers warm and pass time.

raggle taggle ➵ @murderousginger

summary ➵ Bonnie first saw her at the market one morning, fresh faced and beautiful as she looked at fruit to pick and bring home. He knew nothing about her but as sure as he knew every curve of the ring, he wanted to know each curve of her body. Some things just fit and Bonnie knew when he saw her that morning that he would do anything to fit against her like the glove on his hand. Some things were meant to be.

ring girl ii ➵ @blinder-secrets

summary ➵ been wanting to write bonnie since i first saw his lil pasty face!! this ones dedicated to @peachyblinders who summed up my feels with: ‘I just want a cute FLUFFY AF BONNIE IMAGINE he’s tough asf in the ring but then ur his girl so he would protec u to the day he DIES’ xx

maid for you ➵ @bonniesgoldengirl

summary ➵ As the youngest maid in Mr. Shelby's house, you can't help but get bored of your job and your fellow employees at times. So when Mr. Shelby throws a party after being in Small Heath for so long, you can't help but mingle with some of the younger guests instead of doing your job

say worse ➵ @zodiyack

summary ➵ omg could u do some soft bonnie gold first time smut???

traditional ➵ @randomoutsiders

summary ➵ “Maybe something about Bonnie dating/marrying a girl that's not a gypsy? Him showing her their traditions.”

opposite attracts ➵ @bonniesgoldengirl

summary ➵ Bonnie has always been a cheerful person, smiling and joking without a care in the world. So most people would think he'd be attracted to someone just like him. In this case, however, opposites attract

a champions reward ➵ @bonniesgoldengirl

summary ➵ After watching Bonnie win a fight, Reader decides to give him a reward in the shape of something they've never done before

the shy bride ➵ @ijustwant2write

summary ➵ Can you do a Bonnie gold fic where the reader is a Shelby and he has to marry her for a business deal and they end up getting to know each other even tho the reader is all shy and innocent and doesn't really like anyone that isn't family and the golds love her

through the looking glass ➵ @moral-turpitudes

summary ➵ Y/N joins a skeptical Bonnie and his pals on an eerie trek into the woods in search of an alleged haunted house. Little do they know just what awaits them.

ON AO3

these fics ive found on the website ‘archive of our own’. so they will take you out of the app, and give them all the love you can give because they’re BEAUTIFUL.

also I’ll be putting the authors handles here so you can show them some love as well.

burden ➵ himoji

summary ➵ bonnie wants to tell y/n everything before he goes away and regrets keeping the truth to himself.

petrichor ➵ kyloswarstars

summary ➵ Bonnie and you. You and Bonnie. It’s perfect. And then it’s all gone. Grieving is a strange, complicated thing to do and you don’t have a single clue on how to survive without him.

kiss it better ➵ Aimless_inagines_for_fun

summary ➵ Bonnie’s never wanted you to see him in the ring, worried how you’d react

#bonnie gold x reader #bonnie gold #bonnie gold smut #bonnie gold recommendations #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders recommendations #peaky blinders

[madsnowstorm]

take me home for christmas | j. seresin | part six

all i want for christmas is you - hush kids

summary : jake wants to take you home to texas for christmas to meet his family.

warnings — series, 18+, fem!reader, established relationship, some angst, family dynamics (both healthy and not), mentions of therapy, no religious aspect to the holiday, dogs named after famous texans, anxiety, no use of y/n, little angsty, but mostly internal

notes — i think i got a few cavities writing this one. it's a sweet one. also, mistletoad is a real thing. there are like two installments left. i don't really want it to end because i love jake and sweet pea so much. (i call her that in my head, since that's what jake's mom calls her.)

series masterlist

“OH, come on!” Your boyfriend yelled at the large television, standing up, hands stretched out. Julie was on one side of him in a similar position and Will was on the other, hand covering his face and head shaking. The Cowboys Christmas Eve game was on and almost all of the Seresin’s eyes were glued to the screen hanging on the wall. You were sitting between Jennifer, who’d arrived earlier that day, and Luke. The three of you were discussing the Army-Navy Game from a few weeks ago. Jake would throw in a random, bitter, comment every so often. The man was not over Navy's loss. You were hoping the Cowboys could pull out a win, just so he could turn his attention towards that instead of the loss.

You could smell the barbeque that Matt (Jennifer’s husband) and Vicki just brought in from the back, so you knew dinner would be soon. June was sitting on the floor in front of you playing with Lily and five year old Oliver, who was Jennifer’s youngest. There were now children running all over and the house felt more like a home. The moment Jennifer and her family arrived a certain peace took over Tom and Vicki that you had not yet experienced. You had a feeling it was because all their children were home and happy. 

“Let’s eat!” Vicki called out and you hopped up without a fuss. The Seresin siblings stayed seated, Jackson mumbling something about the game being almost over. You chuckled and got up to head to the kitchen. “Thomas created monsters out of all five of them.” 

“Yeah, I can see that!” You thought back over this past football season and how all of your and Jake’s plans revolved around two things; UT and Cowboys games. She was taking some silverware out of a draw and you walked over to help her.

“Can I just say that I am so happy that you are here?” Vicki’s words were as warm as her smile. “You’re like a piece of a puzzle that I have been waiting for…Jake too.” The future was something that you and Jake had discussed before and you both were in it for the long haul. Vicki’s statement added another layer to those plans though. It gave you a sense of relief that you didn’t know you needed.

“It makes me happy to hear you say that.” As screams of all kinds were heard from the living room, she wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you close like a mother would her daughter. You let your arms drift up to hers, giving her a squeeze. The two of you stayed like that until voices began to come closer. 

Jake and Cole were the first people to enter the kitchen. Jake’s frustrated frown disappeared the moment his green eyes landed on you and Vicki. His whole body instantly softened and gaze grew warm. You knew, just from the look on his face, how much he loved you. Even as everyone started helping themselves to food and grumbling about the game, Jake was quiet and only had eyes for you. Eventually you started filling up your plate, making sure to playfully bump his shoulder as you walked by him. You didn’t get too far past him though because he grabbed your hand and pulled you back to him. 

“I love you.” He declared as though it was the only statement in the world that could ever be true. Before you could return the sentiment his lips were on yours, no care for the family around you. Your cheeks grew hot, but you returned the kiss just the same.

“EW! Uncle Jake!” One of his nieces cried out. It sounded like Evie, who you met that morning.

“Gross!” Will gagged. 

“Honestly Jacob,” June spoke up from the entrance of the dining room that sat off the kitchen, near the back door. Through the doorway you could see Jake’s siblings all smirking at the table. Jackson’s shoulders were shaking with laughter as Sophie stuck her tongue out in disgust. “There are children around.”

“Don’t care.” Was his confident reply. He kept his attention on you, but discreetly lifted his middle finger to scratch his nose. June just laughed. You lifted yourself up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his cheekbone before walking around to join his family at the large dining room table.

You sat next to Jenni. Jake joined you a few minutes later, taking the empty spot on your right. As dinner progressed, conversations of all types flowing around the table, his left hand found your thigh. He was talking with Claire, Jackson, and their kids about what Santa may or may not be bringing them. You were in the middle of a discussion with June and Jenni about similar experiences the three of you had at work. June had an almost identical personality to her youngest brother, which you found amusing. As soon as you picked up on that, you knew you would have to invite her out and have the Dagger Squad over, knowing Rooster’s response would be highly entertaining. Eventually, Thomas excused himself from dinner and you looked at Jake, questioning if everything was okay.

“Just wait.” His tone was secretive and caused your concern to morph into curiosity.

When Vicki got up and started to carry things back to the kitchen, you and Jackson moved to help her. Jackson recruited his oldest son to help and while Vicki filled the dishwasher the three of you carried dishes from the dining room to her. June and Jake started taking mugs of all shapes, colors, and sizes out of one of the cabinets while Julie checked on some sort of liquid in a crockpot on the counter. After getting a closer look you realized that the liquid was hot chocolate. 

“Momma, where are the marshmallows?” Jake bellowed from deep within the pantry. Vicki turned to respond, but was cut off by a manly yelp. “Hey! What was that for?” You looked over your shoulder, closing the dishwasher door. Jake stepped out of the pantry, rubbing at his arm, a pout on his face. You laughed. June sidestepped her brother, shaking a bag of large marshmallows at him.

“They were right in front of you, moron.” Vicki shook her head and rolled her eyes at the childish antics of her two grown children. 

“Cut it out you two.” Her tone was exasperated, but turned so sweet when she set her sights on you. “Sweet pea, will you let the others know that the hot chocolate is ready?” You nodded and did as she asked of you. The kids were quick to heed your words, most of them running to the kitchen. You could hear Luke telling them to slow down. 

Once everyone had their mugs full of sweet, creamy, spicy, chocolate everyone gathered around the fireplace. Everyone was spread out over the couch and the floor. Vicki took a spot in one of the recliners, leaving the other one empty. The only person that was missing was Thomas. Before you could ask where he was, you heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. 

Thomas, dressed in a red Santa suit, stood at the foot of the stairs. There was a large green velvet bag that had some sort of goodies in it. While he didn’t have a beard on his face, the twinkle in his eyes definitely reminded you of the jolly big man. All of the kids seemed to enjoy it, even Will.

“Pawpaw!” Sophie squealed out. Claire took the little girl's drink from her before she ran to Thomas. Oliver and Evie were quick to follow her.

“Now, I think before I pass out these presents there is a story we need to read!” Vicki took out a thin, hardback, children’s book. The edges of the dust jacket were wrinkled with age. There was a beautifully illustrated winter scene and the words “Twas the Night Before Christmas” in a curly script across the top. Thomas sat down and took the book from his wife.

Like dutiful little elves the children followed him, sitting in a semi-circle around the recliner. Julie moved from her spot on the couch to join them, turning Lily around in her lap so she could watch. All eyes were on Thomas as he began to read. His soft twang made the old poem sound melodic and in the middle of the reading you found yourself growing sleepy. Jake noticed and pulled you closer to him; so close you were practically in his lap. He leaned in, pressing his mouth near your ear.

“Now don’t go falin’ asleep darlin’.” You rolled your eyes at him, turning your attention back towards Thomas. The inflections and animation he added as he described the physical characteristics of Santa left you in a state of awe like the children. You even giggled along as he patted his stomach and referenced bowls of jelly. 

As the story came to a close, Jake was whispering again. This time though, he wasn’t talking to you. Instead, he was saying the last few words of the book along with his father. No one around seemed to notice and if they did they weren’t bothered by it. Your heart melted. You knew that Jake could be like this. He could put the Hangman persona aside and just be Jake, but it was very rare that you got to see that side of him with others around. The Dagger Squad and some of the other friends you had would think he’d been abducted by aliens. Rooster might even say he’d had some sort of reverse lobotomy.  As much as you loved this side of Jake, you knew he was only like this when he felt safe. When there wasn’t an ounce of tension in his body. When there was no need to be the strong and perfect Naval Aviator. 

You were pulled away from your thoughts by little giggles. Vicki was helping Thomas pass around gifts to the children. Each of them was being handed a set of pajamas. After all of the grandkids got theirs, the Seresin parents began to pass some out to their children and partners. Each set was different from the other, so no one would be matching. Yours were dark navy and white. The pattern was made up of geometric snowflakes. 

“I hate this part.” Jake said softly, looking at everyone holding their pajamas. He looked down at his own pair of pants that were a traditional Christmas plaid.

“No you don’t.” You scoffed in unbelief, lifting your hand to his face. Your thumb ran across his jaw. “You love this. You love every single cheesy, traditional detail for any holiday. Stop lying to yourself.” He just laughed and shook his head.

Everyone split up after that. All the children went to Jackson and Claire’s house to stay the night. You went up to take a shower and Jake told you to come back downstairs when you were finished. You didn’t take too long under the hot water, his request kept you curious. When you were finished you slipped on your new pajamas, admiring both the fit and style, and walked back downstairs.

The sight in the living room took you by surprise. The floor was covered in toys of all shapes and sizes. June, Luke, and Matt were working on putting together some sort of robotic toy, while Thomas and Vicki were looking over some instructions. Thomas sat on the couch with Jenni as they filled stockings. Jackson was wheeling a bike in the front door. Julie and Claire must have stayed at Jackson’s with the kids.

“Well, this is just Santa’s workshop, isn’t it?” You commented with a smile. Jake looked up at you and winked. “What can I do?”

“Help me with this box.” Jake said, standing up, brushing imaginary dirt off his hand. He led you to the corner of the room, pointing at the box in question. Just as both of you bent down to pick it up, Vicki laughed. It didn’t take even a second for the others to start laughing. Jake looked at them in question. June pointed at something above your heads. Looking up there was a stuffed frog, in a Christmas hat, hanging from the light. “Mistletoad.” Jake said, as though he were recalling a long forgotten memory. He then looked at you, a smirk on his face. Dimples were on full display. “Pucker up, darlin’” 

“Don’t ever say that again.” You said, leaning towards him. You could hear laughter behind you. He pressed his lips to yours and you sighed happily. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this happy.  When you pulled back you bent back down, lifting up one side of the box. “Come on, Santa. We have work to do.”

#jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x f!reader #hangman x reader #hangman fic #hangman series #hangman imagine #top gun imagine #hangman x f!reader #take me home for christmas #hangman x you

[folkwhorerain]

Happy Birthday!

Olivia Dunham x fem!reader

*gif is mine* <3 (look at how pretty Liv is)

summary: Olivia never liked her birthday, you knew it very well. But that didn't mean you couldn't do something special for her.

warnings: a lil bit of angst, mention of violence, mention of abuse, guns, spicy things towards the end (no smut tho 'cause I'm too embarrassed), bad grammar bc English is not my first language. Feel free to tell me if I should add more!

author's note: I wrote this because I just started watching Fringe and because I hate my birthday too and Olivia's speech about why she doesn't like her birthday made my heart shatter. I'm also basing this on what I know about season one since it's the only one I've watched so far (so please don't spoil it for me!).

Sorry if I put this under Tess' hashtags, but I thought it would reach a wider audience since Olivia x Reader ffs are basically non-existent.

Enjoy <3

Olivia's body tensed when she heard the doorbell, her eyes immediately shot up to the door and then again at the card she was holding in her trembling hands. She took the gun that was still in her holster and pointed it towards the door, before moving slowly to the apartment entrance.

"Hey, Liv. It's me!"

Your voice echoed through the other side of the door and Olivia immediately relaxed, her heart rate now calming down. She dropped her hands dramatically to either side of her body and sighed in relief as she opened the door to her apartment.

Your smile was wider than ever when you saw the blonde woman in front of you, but it was quickly replaced with a frown of confusion when your eyes landed to the gun she was still holding in her right hand.

"Is everything okay?" She furrowed her brows in confusion, not understanding immediately what you were talking about, but at soon as she followed where your eyes were glued to, she raised her brows in awareness.

"Yeah." She responded nonchalantly with a shrug, placing the gun on the forniture near the entrance. "Do you want to come in?"

"That's exactly why I passed by, Liv." You chuckled, taking a few steps in the apartment you knew very well.

"Speaking of, what brings you here?" She politely asked you. Her arms wrapped around herself, still feeling a little shaken by what happened before you showed up.

You simply raised the bag you were holding in your hand and smiled excitingly. The smell of lasagna made Olivia's mouth water immediately. "Happy birthday!"

"Y/N, you know I don't celebrate." She grunted in response and headed towards the kitchen, hurrying herself to throw the card that made her so unsteady in the trash can.

"After all these years working together you never told me why you don't like your birthday." You sighed following her in the kitchen before passing her the bag. "I've know you for longer than Peter does, but for some reasons you seem to trust him more." You said the last sentence full of bitterness and a hint of jealousy, thing that Olivia didn't seem to notice, too occupied searching for the cutlery.

"I do trust you." She assured you, placing two forks on the kitchen counter. Her green eyes were piercing into yours, silently begging you to drop the subject. "I just don't want to talk about it."

"Yeah, but it looks like you want to talk about it with Peter." You couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of your mouth, making Olivia scoff.

"What's the deal with you and him?" She asked, forrowing her eyebrows. She never understood the cold and angry glances you throw the two of them everytime he was in the same room as you and Olivia. Did you have feelings for him and Olivia was only getting in the way? "If you like him—"

"I don't like Peter. That's absurd!" You couldn't believe Olivia was so oblivious of your feelings towards her. She was smart, brilliant, she always noticed little details that could even escape Broyles' watchful eyes, yet she didn't notice the long glances you would give her, the hugs that lasted a little too long to be only platonic or the times you would kiss her head whenever she was stressed. But could you really blame her? She didn't even know you liked girls in the first place, how could she ever think you liked her?

"Listen, it's your birthday," she opened her mouth to interrupt you, but you were quick to keep talking. "and as much as you don't like it, it's too late to go back now. I'm not asking you to throw a party last minute, but I'm here now and I just want to spend some time with my best friend, so let's eat and chat a little bit, at least."

She bit her lips looking at her shoes, both her hands placed on either side of her hips, contemplating if she should take the offer of not. When her eyes landed on you and saw the hopeful expression on your face, she knew her answer would be yes. She couldn't say no to you, no matter what kind of absurdity you suggested or how much of a pain in the ass you could be from time to time. She just cared that much about you that saying no was physically impossible to her. Besides, what could some time with you, the person she cared about the most, do?

Your eyes enlightened when she gave you a smile, accompanied by a light nod of her head. You hugged her tightly and placed a series of swift kisses on her temple, muttering "thank yous" between each kiss. When she shrugged you off with an annoyed yet playful sigh, you took the plates now full of the lasagna and made your way over the couch, followed by Olivia, which had two glasses in one hand, the wine bottle in the other, and a pathetic smile on her face.

"I hate you." She scoffed rolling her eyes, making you smirk. She didn't mean it not even in the slightest and you knew it.

You chuckled, making yourself comfortable on your usual place in the couch, then you took a bite of the food.

"No, you don't, Liv."

~

You and Olivia were laughing and chatting for God knows how long, talking about everything and nothing. Plates now empty and the wine bottle almost finished. "And then he fell on his butt!" You snort with laughter, telling Olivia a funny anecdote about Charlie of when you worked on a case with him.

"Yep, that sounds like something Charlie would do." She laughed loudly, taking a sip of her wine.

Olivia had to admit she needed that company, specially your company.

For the past few weeks you've been distant to her. She blamed it on Astrid. She was happy you were finally bonding with her, not really having the chance despite working with her and Olivia for so long, but now you two were… too close. At least, too close for Olivia's liking. She didn't know what it was, she couldn't put a finger on the gut wrenching feeling she felt anytime Astrid would whisper something in your ear and you would blush like crazy. And why on Earth did that girl feel the need to always be by your side like you had some sort of magnetic field around you?

Olivia couldn't think of a more reasonable answer than a very obvious crush on Astrid, but little did she know the only reason your cheeks burnt everytime Astrid would whisper something in your ear was because she was teasing you about your crush on the blonde woman and the reason why she would always be by your side was because she insisted you asked Olivia out, but the only thing she received by you in return was a firm and cold look.

Her racing thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bottle hitting slightly your glass. Olivia observed you, she observed how your hand gripped loosely the glass, how the rings adorning your fingers tapped against the glass whenever you would touch it, she observed how you briefly closed your eyes, tasting the wine lingering on your toungue. She wanted to take you in as long as possible before you'd noticed she was staring. And to avoid the embarassment she would feel if you did notice, she spoke.

"Thank you."

Your gaze met hers and your heart jumps in response at the adoration you could see in her green orbs. "For what?"

"For not leaving me alone today."

Your features softened at her confession and you stroked her arm slightly, thing that you always did when you could feel her distress.

"I'm sorry for being so annoying about your birthday." You sighed, looking at the glass in your hand. "I guess I wanted to do something nice for you because I know how it feels like not liking your birthday."

Olivia tilted her head in both curiosity and confusion as she leaned closer to take a better look at your sudden serious expression. "What do you mean?"

"When I was a kid my parents would throw these big parties for my birthday and it was all so perfect, all my friends of school would come and I'd get a lot of presents." Your confession made Olivia raise her eyebrow, not quite understanding what was so negative about it. When you saw her confused expression, you went on with your explanation. You must look so pathetic right now. "I know, it doesn't sound bad, 'cause it wasn't, it really wasn't. I'm so grateful for those moments." You smiled bitterly knowing that you were still attached to the past. "But as I grew up I had less and less friends because people hurt me and betrayed me, so I would spend my birthday alone. My parents didn't even care. My father would just wish me a happy birthday and then fall asleep and my mother would watch tv all the time. Not even asking me to join her." You sighed in frustration at the memory, taking another sip of your wine, which almost made you choke when Olivia stroked your hair in compassion. You cleared your throat to desguise your nervousness. "Uhm, anyway… I get it. I get that birthdays can be either the best memories you have or the worst."

Olivia had this unreadable expression on her face, she was just looking at you, her hand still caressing your scalp. You almost could see pity in her features, thing that you hated because you didn't need that and she knew it, but there was something hidden in it, you felt like she was contemplating about what to say. Like she had this war inside her deciding if confessing what she wanted to confess was okay or not. Then she shifted on the couch, her body facing you better now and your knees touching. Your breath almost hitched at how close she was.

"I had a stepfather. When he drank, he'd accuse my mom of seeing other men, and then he'd hit her. And she just lived with it. She never called the police, not once." Olivia confessed, her voice low and harsh as she recalled the events of when she was little. "And then one day, he beat her really bad and broke her nose. I was nine."

"Liv, you don't have to—"

"He stormed out of the house, got in his car, drove off. And my mom's cry, I can't help her. And then I hear his car. He's turned back around. He kept a gun in the drawer, near his bed. When he opened the door, I pulled the trigger. And then I pulled it again. And I can still see his face… almost daring me to finish. But I couldn't." She swallowed hard before licking her lips, regretting her sudden confession. Not because she didn't trust you, but because talking about it only reminded her that she couldn't escape her past, no matter how hard she tried. The card tossed in the trash just a few metres away from where she was sitting was the proof. But she knew she could trust you. It was you, her Y/N. The one who hold her tight when John died, the one who whispered sweet nothings in her ears after his funeral, the one who saw the worst side of her. So she kept talking, she felt like she owed you.

"So they took him to the hospital and said that he couldn't be saved… but he didn't die. He recovered." You could noticed that hint of resentment and bitterness in her voice, and you couldn't really blame her. "Then one night, he just slipped away. We never saw him again. I still blame myself, because I should have done it. I should have killed him."

"Olivia, that was not your responsibility." You assured her but she scoffed, finishing what was left of her wine. You looked at her and dared to ask her a question that was tormenting you. "Where is he now?"

Olivia bit the inside of her cheeks, contemplating if she was safe telling you the truth or not. If she should or shouldn't let her walls down so easily. She opted for the first option. It was just you. "Every year, he sends me a card on my birthday… just to let me know that he's still out there."

"He sent you another this year, didn't he?" You asked, already knowin the answer giving the fear she was trying to hide in her hard features.

She gave you a small nod, glancing over the kitchen. Her eyes were full of anger and pain. You now realised why she was so tense when she opened the door.

You placed your hand on her knee, caressing it sweetly to bring her at least a bit of comfort. She looked at your hand for a brief moment, then she took it in hers, caressing the back of it with her thumb. The sudden affection made your cheeks burn and your palms sweat. But you recovered quickly as you thought of a proper response. What could you possibly say? You knew she didn't like her birthday, but you never imagined it was for something like… that.

"Well… you beat me, Liv." You said in an attempt to lighten up the mood. "Your reason to hate birthdays is far worse than mine."

She chuckled lightly at that and gave you a small nod, grateful you weren't pitying her. "See? I'm justified."

"Thank you for sharing this with me. I know it mustn't be easy for you, so I'm grateful you trusted me enough with this." You smiled as you squeezed her hand for a moment. "You don't deserve what happened to you. You're the most generous, compassionate and cunning person I know and I'm so grateful for all the sweet gestures you reserve to me and all the secrets you trust me to keep. They are the most precious thing I own. You are the most precious thing I have in my life, Liv."

Olivia awes softly at you, a warm feeling spread through her, a warmt she hasn't felt since John died. Then it hit her; she liked you and now she was sure you liked her, too. Now she understood the harsh glance you gave Peter wasn't because you liked him, but because you liked her. She knew it because those were the same glances she gave Astrid when she would lean too close to… you.

Fuck, she really did like you.

The dramatic "people say I'm distracted and crazy, yet I'm the one not so oblivious here" followed by the exasperated sighs Walter let out anytime he would notice the blonde woman looking at you made sense now.

Olivia let out a breathy laugh and shook her head, eyes flicking to your lips. "I can't believe I didn't realise it sooner."

You stared at her with a puzzled expression and a mouth slightly open, not really understanding where was that coming from. "What do you mean?"

A verbal answer never came, instead she leaned in, kissing you deeply and slowly. It took you a few seconds to register what was going on, but when you did you melted into the kiss and pulled her close.

Olivia sighed contently into your mouth, giving you the confidence to rest both of your hands on her waist, gripping her firmly. You felt her run her tongue on your lower lip, and you part your lips to allow her tongue access to your mouth. The whimper you let out made Olivia's mind spin as she instinctively grabbed you by the collar and her kisses became more desperate.

As much as you both didn't want to, you broke the kiss to get some air. You took that as an opportunity to lean your forehead against hers, savouring the moment a little longer. You were both panting against each other mouths, so you catched her lips once more before cupping her check softly. You stare into her eyes with lust and desire, but most importantly love.

You were so addicted to her you felt like the strongest drug on Earth couldn't compete with how Olivia, your Olivia, could intoxicate you in the best way possible. If there was a way to detoxify, you sure as hell wouldn't even give it a try.

Your hands reached the buttons of her blouse, revealing a black-laced bra, your mouth watering at the sight.

She smirked at how your body reacted around her. Her teeth pulling sweetly at your bottom lip. "I guess I was wrong about Peter then, uh?"

You laughed heartily at that, stopping your movements for a second. "You idiot."

Then she captured your lips in hers once more, grinding against your hips. Her eyes fluttering close as she let out a gasp.

Maybe celebrating her birthday wasn't as bad as Olivia thought.

*

Thank you for reading, people! I hope you enjoyed this little idea I had in mind. I'm contemplating about writing something else about Olivia but I'm not entirely sure!

Either way, see you next time! <3

#olivia dunham x reader #olivia dunham #fringe #anna torv #tess servopoulos #tess servopoulos x reader #the last of us #tess x reader #tess tlou

[bm-blog01]

Why Kanthony is Loved: Identifying

In the final instalment looking at all the reasons that Kanthony is loved the theme is identifying. Many eldest children, those that had suffered trauma, and those that had been parentified said that they identified with these aspects of Kate and Anthony.

However, from all the comments I received there was one that was so personal, and so emotional that I have decided to reproduce it in full below with the permission of the writer.

"I am in love with Kanthony for a lot of reasons. As other commenters may have said, when season 1 finished and I heard the next season was gonna follow Anthony's love journey, I was NOT here for it. I even debated whether or not to watch his season. But when the trailers dropped and I saw Simone was in it I got excited and decided to watch, going in still really disliking his character (not in a badly written character way, in a dislike for this actual person way). I'd heard book readers say they were really excited for his season, and I just didn't understand why (not read the books) so I wasn't expecting my mind to be changed. Little did I know that I was going to go on an enemies to lovers journey myself.

The thing that hooked me about both characters is that I saw myself so much in both of them. I'm an eldest daughter, with half-siblings, and was parentified from my pre-teen years without a father figure around. So I felt really called out by the show. Everything that other characters found annoying and maddening about Kate and Anthony was something I could see in myself (and I didn't like it). I didn't even need to try to empathise with them because I was them, and I felt like I understood their choices in the scenarios they found themselves in.

I immediately recognised their desires, fears, misbeliefs, and flaws so I felt like I was going through the story with them. I knew they would never voluntarily choose their own happiness with all the obstacles they put in their own way and without being called out. So the whole season just felt like a vicarious uphill climb and whenever there was added tension it felt physically unbearable to me.

The whole sibling thing... Surface Pressure from Encanto comes to mind. "Under the surface, I'm pretty sure I'm worthless if I can't be of service" "Who am I if I can't carry it all" "Give it to your sister, it doesn't hurt and see if she can handle every family burden, watch as she buckles and bends but never breaks" - I could basically quote the whole damn song for summing up the feelings and fears.

Of course I really have to give it up for both actors and their on screen chemistry. Every look, every movement, every breath was so believable. It was a truly natural performance (even the unnatural parts where they were obviously lying to themselves). It was in their eyes, micro facial expression, and timing. Every time I rewatched a scene I noticed so many new things. It was so human, it was so visceral - I felt like I was experiencing every emotion.

I became a true Kanthony stan/addict around a month ago, after a recent rewatch. I had also spent a long time pining and yearning for someone, to the point where it felt all consuming but I was being so stubborn and unwilling to be honest with myself/others. I was yearning on my first watch too, but this time the internal angst had reached a new level as I had had a significant 'aha' moment since the previous watch but somehow thought I could will it to pass. Knowing how much I; laugh in their presence, love fighting with them, want to touch their hand, want to smell them, dream of them, feel like my heart is pounding out of my chest whenever I become aware of them being near, and literally lose my breath if I look at them for longer than a quick glance. But the habit of not being 'allowed' to be 'selfish' had been too strong, afraid of hurting others, believing that your wants aren't important enough, so not wanting to be too close to them in case you reveal your feelings and they don't reciprocate, and hence the constant running away.

It was so satisfying (and kinda bittersweet) to see it all play out between Kanthony again and to literally see myself in every scene, see the potential future, being so happy and giddy for them, and know deep down that I was denying myself that same happiness. The whole season felt like a personal lesson to me that time. And the story/message the showrunners were telling was something that I felt was inevitable, but it also felt impossible for me. So I found myself obsessively rewatching every scene with my stomach in knots, looking for clues/signs to reconfirm what I already knew. I have never watched a show/movie so many times and I still haven't got tired of it yet. I still get mad at them like it's the first time watching those frustrating scenes.

It might sound silly to some but it really made me rethink my life and make strained steps to come out of my comfort zone. I've been talking to my person more and more (literally spent 5+ hours talking to them just in one day earlier this week) and I've stopped trying to run away. At this point they've admitted their feelings multiple times without actually saying those 3 words. So I just have to tell my Edwina the truth, and then I can do my Featherington Ball confession (I'm working on it lol the internal conflict is still extreme).

I recently got the audio book, so soon I'll know more about Book Kanthony. But Show Kanthony held a mirror up to each other, and then they held one up to me. They just kept giving me more 'aha' moments, and this time I couldn't ignore it."

On that note, I say thank you very much to the person who shared so much of themselves to say why they love Kanthony.

NB: Because this is someone else's story, and their words I am not going to enable the ability to reblog.

#Kanthony #bridgerton season 2 #Kate Sharma #Anthony Bridgerton

[piratesfromspace]

Poison (Billy Butcher x Reader)

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Reader

!! Spoilers for The Boys Season 3, episode 2 !! I’m interrupting my Top Gun mania to write for The Boys. I wrote this while on withdrawal from painkiller/AD and it turned out more angsty than I intended, but I’m pretty proud of this piece. Hope you’ll like it! TW: mention of death and alcohol, smut, p in v sex, kinda rough sex, angst, age gap, Reader is female and younger than Butcher but definitely of age (in her 20s or 30s)

MASTERLIST

Butcher had - has - many vices. Addictions come easy to him. But sex is not one of them. Not since he lost his wife. The first time at least. Now he doesn’t even have the hope of finding her alive. He knows she’s dead, she won’t come back. He can’t decide if it’s worse or not than being in the limbo of maybe.

Her death has dug a new hole in his heart. In his already flimsy ethics. He just doesn’t care anymore about what happens to him, he has decided to follow his instincts - all of them, even the lower ones. It’s a death wish and a hedonistic impulse all wrapped into one. Into his sick mind. Into his oh so very mortal body.

The last remnants of compound V are running in his veins. The green poison is temporary - but it’s a poison nonetheless. He hates every minute of it. It enhances everything: his strength, his senses, his wit, but also his darkness, his impulsiveness, his ugly desires. He has one hour left before withdrawal, maybe two. And his mission is done. He found the supe he was looking for, he had squeezed the answers out of him, and then he had killed him. There is blood on his shoes, on the lapel of his ragged jacket. He can still smell it, and it’s driving him crazy. All this power at the tip of his fingers, and nowhere to put it. No more supes to smash to a pulp. He’s growing restless. Frustrated. He needs an outlet.

And then he runs into her when he gets back to the safe house. He knows her somehow. She’s a friend of a friend of Frenchie. She helped them once or twice. Or they helped her? He’s not sure but he remembers her because she looked pretty and young and out of her depth. Not the kind of girl who would usually hang around the likes of Frenchie and Chérie. She had been kind to Kimiko, when most people act afraid or like she doesn’t exist. She was different in a way he couldn’t really describe. She also had been nice to him. Flirty even, if he must believe MM’s taunt. She had looked at him like he wasn’t the monster he is, and he had been unsettled for a second. If he weren’t trying to lie to himself, he would recognize she reminded him of Becca.

It’s dark outside - he has lost track of time. All he knows is the feeling of power pulsing under his skin. And the girl, she smiles at him, she asks where the others are, she offers some food she brought back just for them. She still looks pretty. Still looks out of place in this rundown basement.

Are you okay? You look like you just snorted a kilo of cocaine. She quips, and he chuckles because her french accent makes everything she says sound so damn cute. Is that blood? Are you hurt? She adds when she gets closer, and he can see the faint freckles on her nose, the way her eyes grow big and concerned under her long lashes. Her hands find his chest, she wants to soothe him, to understand and to cure. The compound V is still thrumming in his body. He still has all this energy to spare. He doesn’t know how to cure that, until her lips fall on his.

It’s kind of a blur - experimental drugs will do that to you - but he’s now pressing her against the wall, kissing her senseless. He buries his face into her neck, getting drunk on her smell, something sweet and girlish, until he rucks her mini skirt up her thighs and drags his fingers against her clothed cunt. The fabric of her panty is damp, and he swears he can also smell this. He’s rock hard in his jeans, already leaking, like he’s a freaking teenager again. He snatches the fabric aside and gathers her slick before pressing circles into her little clit. She gasps and pants and it makes his ego swell. She grabs his arms as he pushes her even more against the wall, and he has to step back, let her breathe because he just forgot for a moment that he could crush her in a blink if he wanted to.

Please, Butcher She begs. He hates that she has to call him by this name, but it’s the only one she has for him. Still, he’s more than happy to comply, and to finally open his fly. He notices the way she tenses when she sees him. He’s never been this hard, this big, full of his drug-enhanced blood. He keeps his fingers on her clit, rubbing slow as he breaches her. He has to remind her to breathe and relax before he starts moving. He’s holding her, driving her up against the concrete. He can do that without breaking a sweat, without worrying his bad elbow will give out. She weighs nothing in his arms, it’s like carrying a cloud. She feels hot, scorching hot and tight and wet around his cock. He grinds his hips carefully, he wants to stay in control, to make it good for her, even though the green shit in his veins commands him to go fast and hard. Top take, to rip open, to not worry about the consequences.

**

She had always found him kinda hot. She finds everyone kinda hot actually, that’s her problem. But the first time she saw him, with his stupid grin and jerky attitude contrasting with his rugged appearance, she knew she was doomed. Butcher, two syllables that don’t try to sugar coat who he is. It’s not a hyperbole either. He has that violent aura, that assured bravado dipped in a very dark sense of humour. He also has the body count - in the very literal sense - to back it up. Everything about him screams danger, and the stories she heard should raise a thousand red flags. But she decided that he was too handsome to dwell on such consideration. It was actually part of the appeal. Her survival instinct was already fucked up, another dubious choice in her so called romantic life wouldn’t make a difference in the mess that was her existence.

The concrete wall is unforgiving for her back. She’s deliciously split open on his cock, pinned there with nowhere to go. He had swept her clean off her feet effortlessly. He looked buffed anyway, but she was not ready for this. Something was wrong with him. He was too quiet. There was a faint glimpse of too bright orange-y light in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He seemed on edge, ready to take on the world and to burst into tears at the same time. She wanted to help, as always.

He moves slowly, filling her so well, one of his hands between her legs, touching her where she needs it. Calloused fingertips on her tender flesh, the pressure perfect. It’s surprising because she thought he would be way rougher than he is - and she would have been happy with that. She could have dealt with the manhandling, and the quick fuck with no tomorrow. It would have been the perfect way to flush him out of her system. The almost-tenderness he’s displaying, the care, yet basic enough, he’s putting into this - she’s not sure she can process. She peers up at him with half hooded eyes, and he looks on the verge of crying. She surges forward, kissing his lips, drinking whatever sorrow is bothering him. She wants to help, as always.

***

Butcher keeps fucking her through the kiss, he licks into her mouth with a renewed hunger. She tastes like bubblegum and vodka, and it makes perfect sense with the rest of her. He tries to forget the sudden realisation she was the first girl he was sleeping with since Becca’s death. It had hit him from nowhere. Compound V has the nasty side effect of making you believe you’re unstoppable - that is until something you can’t break with your bare hands, like emotion or memory, comes back to bite you in the ass.

Butcher… butcher! She calls him back to reality. A pang of guilt crosses his face when he notices the way she’s huddled harshly between the wall and him, the thin tank top she’s wearing not enough to cushion the soft skin of her back from the hard concrete.

He mutters an apology and he carries her to the old couch below the dirty window. She’s still so light in his arms, she feels unreal. A ghost. An elaborate hallucination. Maybe he’s slowly losing his mind because of the greenish liquid sloshing in his skull. The only thing convincing him she’s somewhat true is her warmth, her smell, the soft noises she makes. It’s crazy how being a supe sharpens his senses until he can pick up the smell of her sweat under her perfume, of her wet cunt, until he can hear the slightest hitch in her breathing, the thump of her heart speeding up when he pushes inside her again.

Soft moans fill the room again as he rocks gently against her. Her hands are buried in his hair, grabbing at the luscious locks. She tugs at his scalp, bites his bottom lip, and snaps her own hips to take him further. He smiles against her neck as he understands what she needs.

‘You fancy it rougher, luv?   He whispers, voice hoarse with this heavy accent of his. She nods greedily. What a pretty dirty little thing you are He acknowledges, a hand collaring her neck, and her pussy clenches on his cock at this.

A grunt escapes his lips, something feral, almost victorious, as he feels the last surge of cursed power coursing through his body.

#the boys #the boys season 3 #the boys fanfic #the boys imagine #the boys fanfiction #billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x ofc #billy butcher x you #no y/n #karl urban imagine #karl urban fanfiction #frenchie fanfiction #the boys butcher #butcher x reader #compound v

[ritz-writes]

I’m back! ( “your never ever getting rid of me”)

What if for the School of rock performance it takes place after the whole LBD thing and the hostess preforms in it with macaque like she plays summer and he plays Dewy or something. ( they use actual kids in most performances btw it’s super impressive look up the tony performance on YouTube).

-♈️

Aries!! I was wondering where u went <3

Man I still need to listen to School of Rock, I only watched the movie when I was younger but it was always one of my favs. I just watched the Tony performance and HOLY SHIT THAT LOOKS SO COOL.

Fun fact! You remember B from the other posts? One of Macaque's castmates? She has a name now! Bai Biyu. She goes by BB (this might change later but thats her name!) 白碧玉. Bái Biyu.

And, as you can see by her family name, she and Bai He (the fandom name for the hostess) are related! They are sisters. (This also comes into play as to why Macaque is going after the gang for LBD. Cuz he doesn't want to hurt them. But knows Bai He and needs to keep her safe. If he doesn't help, LBD will kill her. Ahhhh, i love the smell of angst in the morning hehe)

So it honestly could happen before season 3. But, since there is so little time between Wukong finding Macaque and then Macaque getting taken back to LBD, it would probably be after. Maybe Macaque wanted to give Bai He something else to focus on, so he suggests School of Rock to the theater and they run with it. Bai He says she wants Macaque to be the teacher, and they're like "Well, he came up with it, and we KNOW this dude can sing, so sure."

I think it'd be a lower budget due to them needing to do repairs and stuff after the city got taken over and stuff, and it probably wouldn't run for very long. Maybe a week or two. But they think that, if people see the kids on stage having fun, it'll bring people hope for the future.

Or something cheesy like that lmao

#ritz answers #asks #♈️ anon #spotlight au

[queen-of-deans-booty]

We Need To Talk About Kevin: Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, smut

Author’s Note: Welcome to the first episode of season 8! I can’t believe I’ve been doing this for almost eight years 😭 I hope you all enjoy ♥️

I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated.

Eight Months Into Purgatory

How long has it been? You lost count how many times the sun has risen, and even if you were keeping count, you knew it would be a long time since you first arrived. You still haven't found Castiel; it's almost like he is actively avoiding you because of some reason you don't know. Still, that doesn't stop you from looking for him because he deserves to come home as much as you and Dean do.

You've been searching day in and day out, but you're tired from it all. All you want to do is stop and rest for the night. You've been fighting off every single monster you could find, but where does a monster go when you kill it in Purgatory? Does it die and come right back a few moments later? You never stick around long enough to find out, but you know you need to stop for the night or else you'll go crazy.

"Okay, I am stopping for the night," you pant and rest against the trunk of a tree.

"We need to keep moving," Benny argues.

"We haven't stopped for weeks, Benny. You might have super stamina, but we're human. We need a break. Now, you two can go off and be fucking heroes but I'm staying here."

"She's right, man," Dean backs you up.

"Fine, I guess we're stopping."

You two walk a few more yards when you see a clearing. In this clearing is a small cave enough to fit a few people. Benny doesn't want to rest, but he will give the cave to you and Dean to sleep in.

"I'll stay out here, I guess. Keep watch," Benny says, not sure what else he can do.

"Benny, I'm grateful for everything you have done for Dean and I, but this is the first time in months that I am getting a moment alone with my husband. I am taking it whether you're here or not."

"There are monsters everywhere, Y/N, with a more sensitive nose than I have. They will smell you and hear you. They will come for you."

"They can try," you smirk, flashing your eyes blue.

You take your husband into the cave and turn to the outside of it, putting your hands up. Your magic stems from your palms and forms a forcefield around the entrance so that nothing can penetrate it. It's thick enough so that Benny can't see inside, and it's also soundproof so that no one will be able to hear you. With this protection in place, you turn to Dean with a slight frown.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"I'm just worried about Joanna. It's been so long since I've held her. I'm worried about what she and Sam have gotten up to back home."

Dean takes you into his arms as he takes a seat on a chair-shaped rock. It's not exactly in the shape of a chair, but there is a long smooth side that is big enough for you to comfortably sit on it.

"I have to believe that she is okay because if I'm being honest, you and her are the only things keeping me going right now."

You look up and stare into his bright green eyes. Even in Purgatory, they look as green as they did from the moment you first laid your eyes on them.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

It was supposed to be a simple kiss. It was supposed to be a comfort kiss. However, the second your lips touched his, all rational thought flew out the window. You swing your left leg over his lap, settling over his hardening cock that's trapped in its denim prison. He slides his hands over your hips and up your shirt, wanting to feel your skin now rather than later. You slip off your shirt and unhook your bra, throwing both articles of clothing off to the side.

Dean moves his lips from your own down to your jaw and then to your neck, pulling you in close. His lips tug and bite at your already heated skin, and you throw your head back in ecstasy.

"It's been too damn long since we've done this," you breathe heavily.

Dean moans and presses kisses down to your chest, taking one bud into his mouth.

"Fuck," you whisper.

It's been too long since you've had him like this, you don't want to waste any more time than you have to. It's been so long that you don't need foreplay. You feel like you're ready to come just with his mouth over your right nipple.

"Please, Dean, it's been too long," you beg.

Clothes peel off like old skin trying to shed from its new body. Two hearts beat as one the longer you spend pressed against his bare body. His lips are cool against your heated skin, yet they ignite the fire within you.

"Fuck, I'm not going to last long."

Much like the last time it happened, you didn't see his mouth move when he spoke. You're hearing his thoughts as your bodies connect as one.

"I can hear your thoughts, Dean," you pant, holding onto his body so you don't fall back and ruin this moment.

"What?"

"I can hear what you're thinking. I guess it's a new side to my magic."

"That's so fucking hot."

You grin and kiss him as you begin to move, sliding your pussy further down onto him. He holds your hips in a tight grip as he plants his feet on the ground, and he starts fucking up into you like his life depends on it. You toss your head back and let out a louder moan than you hoped to let you. You were confident about your forcefield that you put at the entrance to the cave, but you don't really know that it's soundproof. Poor Benny if he has to hear this, but you don't care at the moment.

"Shit! Dean! You're going to make me come!" you warn.

He pounds into you at a fast rate, and your mouth forms a perfect 'o' but no noise comes out. The pleasure is too great to even think about. His pace is relentless, and he shows no sign of slowing down.

"Fuck! Dean!" you cry.

"That's right, are you close, baby?"

"So fucking close," you whimper.

"You want me to fill you up? Put a baby in you?" You're shocked at his words, but you couldn't care less in this moment whether he comes in you or not. It's not like you have condoms here. He may have said this in the moment too, but you love it. "Come for me, sweetheart."

It's as if your body is his own, and you crash down on him in a fit of moans. Your release covers his cock, and that initiates his own orgasm. You milk him for everything he's worth until there is nothing else to take. You go limp against his body, and he happily holds you there until you decide that you want to move. You love that after sex, you can hold him inside your pussy for as long as you'd like. You like the feeling of holding him there, and it keeps your mixed orgasms from leaking out of you.

"Fuck, I miss this," you sigh happily.

"Can you really read thoughts?" he asks, his mind finally catching up to what you said earlier.

"Yeah, you think it's hot."

"Damn right I do," he chuckles.

I love you.

"I love you too, Dean," you smile, closing your eyes in content.

Ten Months Into Purgatory

You didn't know this was going to happen, but at the same time, you knew it would. Ever since your passionate night with Dean in that cave, you've been throwing up every single day at the same exact time. At first, you thought you were sick from the disease and filth that this place has to offer, but when it went on for another week, and then another three weeks, you knew it was something else entirely.

"Wait, I need to stop," you say and pause in your step.

Benny, Dean, and Castiel all stop to look at you. Benny knows what's coming, and before Dean could think about it some more, you bent over and threw up everything you ate. Ever since you found Castiel, there have been more and more monsters after you. It's like they know there is an angel here, so all they want to do is kill you.

"Why do you keep throwing up?" Dean asks. He's so clueless sometimes. "You should really get checked out."

"Yeah, Dean, let me just stop at the Urgent Care right around the corner," you say sarcastically and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

"I'm serious. Cas, do something."

"My powers are diminished here."

"The last time this happened, I was pregnant," you reveal, standing up straight and placing a hand over your stomach.

"Are you kidding me?" Dean asks. "I got you pregnant in fucking Purgatory?"

"We did say if it happens, it happens," you shrug.

"Yeah, but in Purgatory?"

"Well, we can't know for sure, but if my stomach tightens and I start growing in a few months, I guess we'll know. Though, I know we have to escape as soon as possible. There's no way I'm giving birth here."

"Let's go before more monsters show up," Benny says, leading the group once more.

Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why! Follow my library blog @queenofdeansbooty-writes​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can follow that if you can’t be tagged!

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#we need to talk about kevin #spn series rewrite #supernatural series rewrite #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fiction #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester smut #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fluff #supernatural angst #supernatural smut #spn #spn fic #spn fiction #spn fanfiction #spn fan ficton #spn fanfic

[farfromstrange]

Foreigner's God | m.m

Matt Murdock x avenger!OFC

Chapter forty-one: Daylight (Taylor’s Version)

previous chapter ° series masterlist

Summary: She ties up the loose ends of her life and gains some knowledge along the way — it all leads to what she’s been searching for all along: closure.

Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, non-sexual intimacy, mentions of sensory overload, mentions of mental health issues, funeral & death of a parent, religious imagery and symbolism, slight fluff

a/n: This chapter officially ends Act One. The next chapter will be part of Act Two which will follow the Season 2 Storyline with all characters and quirks that are part of the show. But I’ve also got an original idea for Act Two that I will continue along the lines. Don’t worry, they blend well.

Edit: I have deleted the original post and decided to publish the chapter again because it seems not to properly show AGAIN. I'm not sure if it simply doesn't reach people, if it doesn't show in the tags or if it's something else. Or maybe it's because my writing has been getting worse, who knows. My posts have started flopping and it's frustrating. I love writing, I'm just lacking a little motivation. And at this point, I think Tumblr has something against me...

The last time she stood in Anton Petrova’s pathetic excuse of an apartment, she had been armed with a gun and a darker purpose that ultimately put her back there, his death was now a prominent memory in her mind, and she couldn’t keep retracing her steps. He only got caught in the crossfire because she used Hydra’s grudge against him to get what she wanted, but from what she learned he planned it from the beginning. He put a fail-safe in place if he ever died, and he expected to die. He expected to die to protect her and make up for what he did. 

Human decisions are often twisted and only make sense if you think more about them. Sometimes you have to take a closer look into the person’s brain to understand, and she understood now. She figured she was doomed to have the people around her get hurt simply because they cared about her. It was a curse. She had long accepted it. Though the reminder of what happened stabbed her chest with a dull butter knife and pierced her soul in two. 

The walls were colder now—empty, void of life. The lightbulb flickered. She ran her shaky fingers over the wood of the dinner table. If she thought hard enough, she could make out the silhouette of the gun she had once placed on top of it. She remembered the door opening and his shocked yet expectant eyes staring right back into hers. Even the groceries he had dropped on the couch were still there. It smelled and looked like him, and still, it felt like the home of a stranger. No pictures, no personal belongings, only four boring walls to be living in.

It felt illegal, to be there. She was invading a dead man’s privacy. The apartment was so empty, she doubted Tony was right with what he said. Maybe Anton made sure the fail-safe got removed in case someone else might come around. Her blood ran cold. Her heart rate picked up. Her fists clenched and she twirled around, eyes darting over the place and the many empty corners of the room.

“Eliza,” Matt said softly from the door, leaning onto his cane. “What’s wrong, why are you scared?”

“What if- what if someone bugged this place?” she breathed out. “What if someone’s listening to us right now?”

“There are no cameras here. If there were, I’d be able to hear the static. Hydra’s gone, baby. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

“It’s so empty…” she said. Her breath hitched and she placed her palm flat against the wall that bordered his suspected bedroom. “The entire place, it’s so cold and empty. How can anyone live like this?”

She knew no one was watching them, her better judgment told her as much, but the lacking sense of familiarity ate away at her heart and it made her uneasy. She could feel the fear deep in her bones, the suspicion of a bigger threat looming at the horizon – but that threat was gone. Most of Hydra was dead and those who survived were locked away at SHIELD. She was safe. Her father died to help her take them down, so he would never rig his apartment, let alone lie to Tony. She was missing something, and it had nothing to do with a threat to her or Matt’s life.

He shrugged, taking a step forward until he stood only a foot away from her. “It’s a safe house. They often look dull.”

“But am I not supposed to feel something other than dread right now? He was my father.”

“Everyone deals with grief differently. God knows I locked myself away completely after my dad died. I didn’t let anyone in and I felt absolutely nothing but emptiness in my chest throughout the grief process. I only cracked after Stick… Well, it doesn't matter.” He sighed wearily. “It’s over now. Most importantly, you’re safe, Hydra is gone and your father is about to find peace. No matter how bad of a father he was, he did something honorable to help us – to help you. God will grant him some forgiveness for that, I’m sure. I’ll pray for that.” 

“No,” she turned around, “I don’t want to hear about God right now.” She didn’t mean to sound snappy.

Instead of recoiling though, Matt only smiled. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I-“

“Shh.” He touched her shoulder. “You’re allowed to feel all kinds of things right now. It’s okay. I won’t mention his name again until you’re ready.”

“Okay… thank you.”

“Be as unfair as you want, I can take it.”

“I don’t want to be unfair. I just need to…” Eliza switched her eyes toward the ceiling. Had the faint shadow been there before? She moved closer, extending her hand. She couldn’t touch the quadrant, but it looked like a secret entrance to some sort of attic. Motel rooms in the form of apartments weren’t supposed to have that. 

Fail-safe. Anton went out of his way to secure it. That was why the apartment seemed suspicious; he hid what was most important for her to find in case something happened, which it did, or things went wrong and someone raided the place. That never happened; now it was her turn to claim what was rightfully hers. Everything in there belonged to her, it was her heritage, but he had more than a few unpaid bills and crusty furniture.

She scoffed. “That smart bastard.” She grabbed one of the chairs and moved it under the quadrant.

Matt was behind her in seconds, holding his hands on either side of her hips. “Careful,” he said.

“I’m okay. I’ve climbed higher than that.”

“I just don’t want you to break your neck.”

“Please, you look like a mother standing behind her toddler right now.” 

“Well, that’s what I feel like. Be careful,” he repeated, though he didn’t directly touch her this time, he only hovered, which was even worse somehow.

She pushed against the lid. It went off, sliding aside to reveal the dark inside of the ceiling. Eliza strained to reach inside. Patting along the wooden plate, she soon found what she was looking for.

It was a carton, nothing too big, but it was heavy. She pulled it out, doing the thing Matt desperately wanted to prevent. Thankfully, he steadied her with a hand against her lower back so she wouldn’t stumble further and fall off the chair.

“You okay?” he asked.

She only nodded, accepting his help to get her down. He quickly placed the chair aside – truly a mother hen – and she moved on to the living room table. 

Staring up at him expectantly, she patted the couch. “Sit with me,” she said.

He fixed his glasses, giving a lopsided and shy grin before he tapped his way forward. The surroundings were new and he had to use his cane this time. Eliza took his hand halfway and guided him toward her. Her heartbeat was always a good guidance point. 

With a deep breath and him by her side, Matt’s hand resting on her thigh now to offer his support but not intrude too much (he couldn’t help much anyway, this exceeded his abilities and at that moment, he truly hated not being able to see because he was beyond curious and possibly even a little worried), she opened the lid of the carton.

The papers inside were sorted and tied together with rubber bands, mostly pictures and unopened letters as well as a folder she would get back to later. What she focused on was the DVD. It was old and most TVs didn’t even use the format anymore, but when she looked up at the old device standing in the room, she realized there was a fitting slot. She could watch it right then and there and she wouldn’t have to keep it in the back of her mind anymore.

Regarding the video Tony mentioned… she wasn’t sure if she wanted to watch it or burn it. How was she supposed to deal with this after everything that went down? She hated this. She hated how it made her feel and the thoughts that made her feel all fuzzy. This was too much. Too much pressure for someone as young and fragile as her.

Children shouldn’t outlive their parents. 

“Oh, keep it together!” she cursed to herself as the first tears gathered in her eyes again. “I hate this shit.”

Matt squeezed her thigh reassuringly. “You want to take a break?”

“No,” she was determined, “I just… I don’t know what I need. If he hadn’t died, this wouldn’t suck so much. I could be angry with him still and not have to deal with his death atop everything else.” 

The pictures were mostly memories from when she was a baby, though there was one that knocked the air out of her lungs. It was a clear black-and-white picture of her mother. That was enough to make the tears fall and caught the sobs with the palm of her hand. A teardrop landed on the picture, pearling off and making the woman’s face all blurry. 

“I wish I could know what she looked like,” Matt murmured next to her, “so I can know more about the mother who created such a beautiful and strong woman. If she was still alive, I think we’d have dinner every weekend, do barbecues, and eventually have our kids running around her backyard – and your father would be there too because if they were both here, none of this would have happened to you.”

As much as she wanted what he suggested, she could never give him that family. Her heart ached. She put the picture down, hanging her head low and she sobbed once more, leaning into him so he could do something, anything, to make the world go away.

“And I wish I could read those letters to you so you wouldn’t have to carry that burden. It’s days like these that frustrate me that I can’t help you the way you need.”

She sniffled, sucking in a sharp breath before she straightened again. He couldn’t carry the burden for her, but she could attempt to carry and deal with it herself and have him hold her hand throughout. It was worth so much more. She had to learn how to be strong for the sake of being better than she was before. The letters were there for a reason. 

Two envelopes. One red, the other a basic beige one. 

A post-it fell out. 

Watch the video first.

She put the letters back down, taking out the DVD. 

“You can help me with this,” she said to Matt, “because it’s a video and I don’t know I’ll survive if you don’t hold my hand. I’m sorry if it’s too much to ask, but-“

He shushed her. Without asking, he took the DVD, searching for the slot in the TV for a good two minutes before he finally managed to slide it in.

“Sex is so much easier,” he grumbled under his breath.

Eliza laughed, although broken and her voice cracked to break into even more sobs. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“Stop apologizing. I told you, your feelings are valid. Let them out.”

He returned to the couch to hold her in his arms while he used the Braille on the remote to start the video.

Hi. Hello. 

She gasped when she heard her father’s voice, his face appearing after a moment of darkness.

Alina, if you find this, I’m probably long gone or went to jail or maybe both. I filmed this video shortly after the Accords were put in place just in case something might happen to me. I made sure the information about this box would end up in Tony Stark’s hands, no one else’s, because I know he will tell you when it was time. When you already know because he couldn’t hold it anymore or you figured it out yourself. It’s for that occasion.

Because you know a lot now, but you don’t know the whole truth, most of all how I feel, so this is for you. Alina, my daughter, the light of my life.

This is my official apology letter to you in the hopes that you may understand why certain things happened, and maybe you will find it in yourself to forgive me. I don’t expect it, I don’t have the right to want anything from you, but I would like for you to realize that I love you. I have loved you since the day you were born and my devotion to you hasn’t changed. You are my daughter, my child, all that is left of Gwen, your mother, and I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt, so I did the one thing I thought was right to do. I was wrong. 

Now, no excuse in the world would make this mistake okay, but I was desperate and I hope that counts for something because a child like you is special and I needed someone to help you. You wouldn’t have been happy here. You wouldn’t have fit in. I thought they could help you, raise you, and offer more than I ever could. By not doing enough research I caused more damage than good and I am so incredibly sorry for that. I will carry this guilt with me always and far beyond the grave. I will repent for that sin until I’m ashes in the pits of hell. God won’t forgive me. He won’t have mercy. And I don’t want him to because frankly, I do not deserve it.

The truth is, your mother and I weren’t sure you would survive. When the stone hit her, we weren’t sure what the force would do to you once you were born. Your mother considered termination and I agreed, but we never went through with it because one look at that ultrasound and your heartbeat and we knew that we wanted to try. 

The reality stone is something a normal scientist like me couldn’t possibly research. I tried, but I didn’t get the answers I needed long after you were born and your mother died. It was Odin of Asgard, I believe, who sent some Asgardians down to earth to tell me about the stone. They wanted to take you, but I wouldn’t let them, so I made a pact. If I could control you and you didn’t pose a threat later, once you were older, I could keep you. If you became a danger though, they would have taken you from me and brought you to Asgard where they would have done unspeakable things to you, probably. You know all of this now, I believe because you wouldn’t be here watching this video if you didn’t somehow figure it out on your own. 

All I ever wanted was to protect you. You were all I had left of your mother, but the older you got, the stronger your powers grew and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could contain the storm inside of you. I didn’t understand what was happening and neither did you, although your body was in full control of your actions even when you were a child, and you never panicked about what was happening the way I did. Perhaps you knew, deep down, who you truly are so you weren’t scared. God knows I was scared.

So when I found that ad, I figured it would be best for you to be with children who were like you. And once you knew how to control yourself, I thought you’d be able to come back to me. You weren’t happy being restrained, I could tell, and Asgard would have come sooner or later because your powers broke our truce. That’s why I gave you away. The offer sounded so lucrative, I thought it was going to be paradise on earth for you, and then everything would turn out exactly the way your mother intended it. With you happy and healthy and content with yourself. I never thought this would happen. I never thought it was Hydra who I gave you to and what they would do to you once they had you. I tried to get you out when I figured it out, but by the time I got to them, they found me first and you were long gone, safe and sound with the Avengers. They gave you the life I originally planned for you and I owe Tony Stark and Nick Fury plenty for that. 

I didn’t mean to sell you out to Hydra. They tortured me, they gave me drugs and in my delirious state, I had no control over what truths came tumbling out of my mouth. I was weak and lacked self-control, so it is kind of my fault, but I never meant to hurt you. That much you have to believe. I didn’t do this to save my own ass; I wanted to save yours, but I failed.

I will repent for that for all eternity, and I will burn in hell for that. I deserve to be punished for what I did. I sold you out twice, abandoned you twice, and screwed up more times than I can count. I’m so sorry for how badly I ruined your life and the trauma you had to suffer because of me. You never deserved any of it. 

Now, you’re probably wondering why Thor never told you. I doubt he knew about his father’s knowledge, and he might not even have felt it. Your powers are unique and none of Tony Stark’s DNA tests could match up to the markers that the reality stone left in your blood. It prevented you from finding out too soon, but maybe you should have. Maybe I should have come to you right away instead of Stark, maybe things would have turned out differently. I’d surely still be alive. 

What’s most important though, you’re not a monster. The stone was never meant to destroy, it was meant to keep the universe alive and protect it from possible threats. That’s what it did to you. It became part of you to protect you. Of course, you would have become a hero sooner or later. I want you to understand that your powers are fragile though, and controlling them is going to be a chore. They’re stronger than you realize, and they will continue growing until the day you eventually die. I am telling you this so you can be prepared for the future. One day, your powers will become the most important instrument in protecting the planet and the universe as we know it, and when that day comes, you need to be prepared. 

Hydra wants your blood for a reason. They could do great things with it, tear the world down one by one and cause the universe to collapse, even. I just hope that by the time you find this, that is taken care of. Now you just have to wait for the threats destiny will throw your way in the future because bad things are going to come for you and you have to be prepared when they do because your powers automatically made you the hope of an entire nation the day you were born. As an Avenger or on your own, it doesn’t matter. You were born for a reason. The stone chose you for a reason, and your mother didn’t die for nothing. I know it. I can feel it. There is something about you, Alina… you were born to become a savior. Make it worthwhile. Do it for your mother and do it for me now. 

Now there is a letter in the box you’re holding. Your mother wrote it while she was pregnant with you. I chose to leave it for you because she addressed it to you and you deserve to get a piece of the woman who made and bore you. You deserve to get to know her. She loved you and that letter proves just how much. Read it. Find closure. Move on. There is no reason to cry for her or me or even for yourself. Things are going to be just fine. You’re the strongest person, after all. You’ve made it this far, the rest will be easy-going. And I hope you will eventually find the kind of love your mother and I had for each other, and that you’ll move on and be happy with your own little family. 

The rest of the documents in the box are for you to figure out. I left you as much as I possibly could of your childhood, but there is also something that will secure your future, I hope. I made sure you were taken care of in case my death would happen too soon, and I figure it must have, so you deserve to have this. You deserve to close this chapter and move on. 

Oh, and, before I forget, if you do decide to bury me or have a funeral in my name, make it small and preferably catholic. But don’t spend too much money on me, I don’t deserve it. Keep the eulogy short, maybe read a poem or a psalm. I just want you to move on more than I want myself to pass on to the afterlife. I know I’m going to hell, there’s no sugarcoating it, so make it fast. I know you must want it as badly as I do. Do what you gotta do. It’s your life now, take that opportunity and be a better person than I could ever be. 

I love you, Alina. Forever and always. Goodbye.

The screen turned black, and the sound cut off. Anton’s face was gone and with it, he was. Eliza’s mind was blank. She stared at the empty tv, holding the red envelope in her hands. A letter from her mother, he had said. It was her last living memory of her. She didn’t feel anything. The letter weighed heavy and she was sure there were tears on her cheeks, but the rest of her body was numb. 

Next to her, Matt took off his glasses. He ran a hand over his face, pausing at his reddened eyes. He rubbed them, brushing away the access tears that had slipped from the corners of them. But she was too tense to even think about crying. It was emotional, of course, but for what? She felt no smarter than before, and all it did was confuse her further. She hated the place her mind was in, so fragile and messy, but she couldn’t claw her way out of the prison she kept herself locked in. It was a never-ending cycle. 

He squeezed her thigh. “You okay?” he asked, his voice slightly raspy from the release of emotions. 

Eliza looked down at the letter, then back at the TV. “I don’t want to read it,” she said. 

He nodded. “Okay, that’s alright.”

“I really don’t.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t understand why he did that. He should have just kept it to himself. What does it matter now, anyway? She’s dead. So I won’t read it.”

She was trying to convince herself. The truth was, she wanted to read it, but she wasn’t sure how to deal with the feelings that came up in the process. She wasn’t even sure what she was feeling at that moment. Her soul was a broken mess. She wished she could unsee the video and pretend it never existed, but the picture had flashed across her eyes and she was forced to remember every last detail of her father’s heartfelt speech now, even though she wanted to do anything but that. 

“You want me to store it away?” Matt asked, offering his hand. 

She shrugged, slowly lowering the envelope down into his palm. 

“I’ll take good care of it.”

“I don’t care,” she said. Her fists balled when she stood up. “I also don’t care about anything else that's in here. I don’t care about what he said or did, I really don’t. I don’t care about him. I don’t care that he died or that I’m going to do a stupid fucking funeral for him exactly the way he wants to just to send him off to hell. Because he’s right, he is going. Or maybe he’s not, who knows what God is capable of? He surely seems to forgive others more than he’s willing to forgive me or- or you or anyone else who’s been hurt by other people. I don’t care, Matt. It doesn’t fucking matter to me because in the end, they’re both still dead and no message in the world is gonna make it go away!”

She slammed the box down on the living room table and with her force, the floor broke through. The pictures and envelopes were sent flying to the floor, covering the carpet in a trail of her past. 

Eliza pressed a hand over her mouth, turning her head away from the mess. She wanted nothing more than to flip the table too. If it hadn’t been there, the box wouldn’t have broken through. Now she had nothing to put the papers back into. 

He caught her wildly flailing hands, rising to his feet so he could use the height difference to his advantage. “How about we take a breath first?” he said. 

“I don’t want to take a breath,” she said.

“Please, sweetheart. Just try to calm down and process what you just saw. You can’t pretend it doesn’t affect you. I know you better than that.”

She tore herself from his grasp. “I’m fine, Matthew.”

Matthew. She used his name when she was either drowning in the ecstasy of an orgasm or when she was distant, upset, or lecturing. She didn’t use his full name when she spoke to him casually as a girlfriend would speak to her partner. It was a warning sign that went completely over her head and he sighed all knowingly. 

“You’re not.”

“No, I am. It’s just a few useless documents. The letter is also useless. Like, what would it change if I opened it and it’s the contract to this godforsaken apartment? What could inheriting debt possibly bring me? Closure? I don’t fucking think so.”

She tore the white envelope open. 

“Whatever this is, it won’t change that he’s dead. I don’t want to be burdened by this pathetic excuse of a legacy he’s left me. It won’t help. It’s too late for him to help. My life’s fucked up already.” 

She pulled out the document, unfolding it. Her words faded into oblivion. Eliza skimmed over the text, which was enough to get the most important key points from what she could now tell was a bank statement. She figured she would inherit debt. It only made sense. Anton had been on the run for most of his life. He lost his job after he fled. There were no riches to collect. She was just waiting for the moment she could shove her finger in Matt’s face and tell him, ‘I told you so’ because the expression on his face told her he didn’t agree with her thought process. 

The moment never came.

Matt raised his eyebrows, challenging, “And?”

Her heartbeat jumped. Her fingers clenched around the paper, causing it to dent and crinkle under the pressure. 

“Okay,” she hummed, her voice monotone, and she pressed her lips tightly together until they formed a thin line. 

Sliding the paper back into the envelope, she made sure to reattach the glue and smoothen out all the rough edges. Matt was still frowning expectantly at her. Her heart beat out of her chest and not in a way he would have considered normal or healthy. 

She cleared her throat. Her head was spinning. The numbness only got worse, and so did the confusion. Though as she thought about what she saw, heard, and read, she started to see why Anton did what he did. Deep down, she understood and she finally felt as if all the pieces finally fell into place. The puzzle was close to being finished and her life was close to being complete. The worst was over. Eliza made it. Closure was the last step toward redemption, and this was all the closure she could have asked for. It was right there for her to grasp, and pushing the inevitable away would only hurt her further. If she kept living in denial, she would never be able to escape this endless cycle she was trapped in. 

“What is it?” Matt asked. “You know, I can’t read your mind. That exceeds my abilities. I’m not superhuman.”

“I did not inherit debt,” she stated. Her mouth suddenly felt dry and her stomach churned.

What. The. Fuck.

The reality started to seep into her bones, the truth replaying in her mind over and over again, and she began to process all the different sensations that she had just been met with. 

Shit.

“Then what’s in that envelope?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Eliza.”

He never used her name, or he did so only when he had to bring a serious point across or pressure her to give him answers. She hated hearing her name, even though it sounded like honey from his lips. Still, the intensity in his voice left no space for arguing. She would have if she hadn’t been so tired.

She caved in with a heavy, shaky sigh that left her lip quivering and forced to bite on it to stop it from breaking her words in two. “My father — Anton had a secret bank account,” she said. “With a balance of nine-hundred-thousand Dollars. Which are now mine. I have nine-hundred-thousand Dollars in a bank account at National Bank. His account is my account now. My father saved almost a million Dollars and now I have almost a million dollars in an account that is now written under my name. I own nine-hundred-thousand Dollars.” 

His eyes bulged out of his head. One of his hands came up to rest on his forehead, the other on his hip. “Nine-hundred-thousand Dollars,” he repeated.

“Yep.”

“You- you own that now. Nine-hundred-thousand Dollars.”

“Mh-Hm.”

“And the deceased signed off on the transfer.”

She nodded. The number danced in circles around her head and she forgot how to speak proper English.

“Fuck.” She didn’t mishear her own voice, the word came out in perfect Russian. Her brain was so fried, it mixed up all the languages; she wouldn’t have been surprised to hear herself speak French next. She sure as hell was thinking it already.

Matt seemed to struggle with the same issue. “Even I know what that means,” he said.

He couldn’t believe what he heard. His father had left him quite a large sum of money after he died, but it only managed to get him through college. It had been nowhere near as high as the amount Eliza’s father left her. It was the kind of money Foggy dreamed of getting, and he couldn’t deny that it sounded good. 

“So, basically,” he said, “you’re rich.”

“We’re rich.” 

“Holy-“ he bit down on his bottom lip. “Eliza, what the fuck? This is…”

“Crazy? Fucked up? Delusional?”

“Amazing.” 

“Wait, what?” 

“You know what you can do with that much money?” Matt began to beam. “You’ve got so many opportunities now.”

Heat rose to her cheeks and she dropped down on the couch. “I think I’m having a stroke,” she said. “Or- or a heart attack or something.”

He placed the back of his hand against her forehead. “I don’t think so,” he said.

“Maybe I’ve got a brain tumor.”

“Well, on the bright side, if you did, you could afford the surgery now.”

She stared at him for a moment before her face cracked up and she burst out laughing. He joined in only hesitantly. The sound was too high to have been serious laughter. He soon realized why she sounded the way she did. The next sound that left her mouth sounded like a mix between a sob and a laugh, and when she pressed her hand in front of her mouth, he knew. 

“Oh, God,” she whimpered. 

Matt knelt before her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know this is a lot to process. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have made that joke. I was trying to lighten the mood. That was a mistake, I’m sorry.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in the crook of it, the tears coming in uncontrollable waves as her laughter turned into distinctive sobs that sounded muffled through the fabric of his jacket. He hugged her, running his hands over her back and her hair, trying to calm her in the only way he knew how to. She melted even further into his touch, letting down all of her defenses and bearing herself completely. 

Eliza shuddered when he pulled back, holding her head steady with both of his hands and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “How about we go home?” he suggested. “Today’s been a lot. I think a cup of tea and some rest could do you some good. Hm, does that sound okay?”

She sniffled. “Okay,” her voice wavered. Wiping the smeared mascara with her hands, she sucked some of the leftover snot back up her nose and took the hand he offered her to get up. 

Matt collected the mess on the floor, flipping the lid of the box over in one swift motion, and he put it on the broken bottom of the carton. It offered a new floor for the contents to rest in. He clenched it under his right arm, the other coming to wrap around her shoulders. 

“C’mon, baby, let’s go,” he said. 

She eyed the apartment once more before the pair stepped out into the evening air, closing and locking the door behind them. The already empty space was even emptier now, and she took all the memories that were left of who she had once been with her. It was all she had, all her parents had left her, and even as Matt carried it under his arm, Eliza was sure she could feel the heavy weight as if it was resting on her shoulders. 

On the drive home, she faded in and out of consciousness, lying on Matt’s lap like the lost little puppy that she was. She felt stripped of her dignity and all that she once knew. She had curled in on herself, holding tightly onto his pant leg. The limousine shook with every pothole, but he held her through them, and with his nails scratching at her scalp, she allowed her eyes to flutter shut and rest for just a moment. 

In between naps, she caught a conversation that could have also been a dream. 

“How is she?” Happy asked from the driver’s seat, his eyes fixated on Matt in the rearview mirror. 

The man sighed, stroking some of her hair out of her face. “Emotionally exhausted,” he told him. 

“I think I’ve never seen her fall asleep this fast.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“You think she’s gonna be okay?”

“She’s not alone, Happy,” he said, “so yes, she is gonna be okay. I’m not leaving her. And I think I’m the only person she needs right now, not some smart advice from other people trying to tell her what to do. With that I don’t just mean you, I mean everyone she’s turned to the past couple of weeks. I get it. Losing loved ones is… it’s cruel and it sometimes plays tricks on your mind that make you feel all kinds of helpless.”

“Who died?”

“My father.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, it happened when I was a kid. I’ve, uh, learned to accept it. But that’s why I understand how she’s feeling, so I’m the only one who truly gets her. All of her, not just the parts she shows to everyone else. I’ve seen deeper than that, so she trusts me, and I know it might not seem like it now, but she’s going to be fine. As long as I’m here,” Matt looked down at her, “No one can hurt her.”

Happy nodded, a small smile displaying on his face. “Thank you,” he said. “She needed someone like you.”

“Yeah…” he chuckled. “Destiny works in funny ways, doesn’t it? ‘Cause I needed someone like her too.”

As soon as the door to his apartment complex had fallen shut, Matt folded his cane, wrapped it around his wrist, and picked a very tired and confused Eliza up into his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, hands clung to his neck, and promptly dozed off again.

“There you go.” He put her down on the bed, draping the blanket over her body. She rolled on her side, whining when he distanced himself. “Go back to sleep, baby,” he said. 

“No. Where are you going?” she asked. 

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Making some tea and getting you a change of clothes. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m not leaving. I promise.”

She still ignored his plea for her to go back to sleep and sat up against the headboard instead, rubbing her dry and tired eyes. 

“You can still rest a little,” he tried to convince her again, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“I’m not tired anymore,” she said. 

“You sure?” Matt chuckled when she suppressed a yawn. 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Alright, well, I’m still gonna make some tea and get you a change of clothes.”

“Can I take a shower first?”

“Sure.” He dropped his jacket on the armchair across the bed. “I’ll leave one of my shirts on the sink.”

Nodding, Eliza dragged herself out of the comfort of the warm sheets, her dress now wrinkly and completely bunched up. She slipped her hands under the hem and pulled the silk off her body. The cold in the room caused her nipples to harden. 

Matt sucked in a silent sharp breath, turning away from her half-naked frame. He could smell every nuance of the sweat on her skin, the dried tears, and her mascara. He could hear the hairs on her arms stand up with the sudden change in the air’s temperature. It was wrong to think of all of these sinful things when she had suffered only a couple of minutes ago, tired from crying. He felt guilty for wanting to kiss her, back her against the bed, and make love to every inch of her body. The taste of her skin lingered on his tongue even though she was far out of reach. 

She seemed to pick up on his sudden interest in the wall next to him. Slowly but steadily she walked up to him, the bedroom was still dark but with the curtains open the light streaming in from outside painted the walls in different hues of green and blue as another ad passed over the screen. She had grown to love the billboard and the different colors. Especially Matt seemed to only be getting prettier with each time he stood in the limelight for the sole reason he got his apartment at a discount. She didn’t mind. 

He flinched when her hands came to suddenly trace over his clothed back. She kissed his shoulder blades, her touch wandering until she reached the hem. His skin was hot under the thin fabric of his shirt. With every scratch of her nails over his abdomen, his abs tensed and he shivered some more, a thrill traveling down his spine. 

His shirt landed on the floor. The now green neon danced over his scars, turning them golden. Stars seemed to dance around the outline and she pressed her lips to the one reaching across his shoulder blade, tasting heaven and the universe on her tongue. 

He held her hands in the front, pressed tightly over his heart, both of them. It thudded wildly but in a steady rhythm, one she was most familiar with. Blood rushed under his skin, the flush she had grown to love spreading throughout the upper half of his body. 

Eliza glided her hands down his torso until she reached the buckle of his belt. His chest caved as he sucked in a sharp breath. “What are you doing?” he asked, and it was even sexier how his voice had begun to turn hoarse and breathy just from a few kisses and mindless touches along his skin. He was so sensitive, so beautiful, and she would never tire of making him feel appreciated in the way he deserved. 

But not tonight. 

He might have found her naked presence arousing, but it wasn’t what he needed. It wasn’t what either of them needed. 

“Shh,” she only murmured back at him, undoing his belt and tearing it off with the rest of his pants in one go. 

He stepped out of them, leaving him in his underwear. That was the point when he decided to turn her around, his arms around her waist and he held her close to him as his lips traveled home to taste the paradise in hers. She caressed his cheek during the kiss, brushing over the stubble that was slowly growing into a beard, and she moved on to his hair and the faintest ones on his chest that he hadn’t once touched. 

His index finger traveled along her spine until he reached her ass. She was still wearing panties. He pulled at the waistband, snapping it against her skin. She got the hint, easily shimmying the fabric down her legs. It pooled on the floor among his clothes. 

The kiss grew sloppier, faster, and more desperate. He guided her face against his with a tight grip on her hair and she let him shove his tongue down her throat. The other hand naturally went around her throat, holding her right where she was, leaving no space for an escape. He worshiped at her feet every day and she had never felt so at home with another person as she did with him. 

She stroked over the dark body hair that adorned his chest. “Take a shower with me,” she said, exchanging a breath with him. He refused to break the kiss, nodding only faintly as he kept exploring the depths of her mouth. 

They didn’t need sex. They needed intimacy and mindless touches, yes, but not sex. Although his need had first presented as such a carnal instinct, he soon realized that what she offered him was much better than what the mess in his head dictated. 

He stepped forward, causing her to step back. They continued that dance until her back hit the bathroom door. She quickly made use of the handle, opened it, and stepped inside. The cold tiles caused goosebumps to erupt on her skin, his body being the only source of heat in the coldness of the bathroom. 

She wanted to touch him desperately, her body yearned for him and her mind needed the distraction his seemingly endless love seemed to offer her every time he proved his devotion by using his hands to caress her skin in an attentive way only he knew how. 

He tilted her chin up with his index finger. She met his brown eyes. They appeared almost black in the now yellow ceiling light, but the color of the tiles lulled the atmosphere into a soft blue. It was an even more sensual color, drenching them in it as if they were underwater. 

Eliza sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. The sight was something she wanted to imprint into her brain. If it were up to her, she would force him to stand like this more often. 

He listened to her heartbeat and compared it to the usual rhythm it followed. Something was different — the past few days had taken a toll on her and she wanted nothing more than to lose control in the arms of the one person she could trust she was safest with.

Things were going to get hard again, and she was going to cry more before the worst would finally be over and laid to rest. The past had to be buried before she could move on. It was going to hurt, but until then he could help her forget the weight of her feelings and give her something to look forward to. He could shut her head off for just a moment, and he could show her how deeply she was loved by him. She wasn’t alone.

He leaned down to kiss her softly. A gentle nature took over him, the protector, the man that wanted to please the woman he loved. 

This time, when she said his name, he liked the tune better. At least now she was entirely his, not bothered by her demons.

The warm water trickled down their bodies and pearled off their skin. He caught the droplets with his finger, playing with the feeling of the different sensations on the familiar texture of her skin. The old waterlines made the air taste slightly metallic and rusty, and the water did the same but mixed with her distinctive scent and the way her body felt against his ever-sensitive skin, he didn’t mind. He didn’t want to rush. 

It sounded like rain when the water hit the shower tiles. That mixed with her heartbeat, his ears finally found silence, and with the overstimulation fend off for a while, he allowed himself to relax. The world hardly ever got quiet.

With a sigh, he lowered his head and dropped it on her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his neck, one hand in his hair and she pressed him closer. He hugged her tight to him and she hugged him back, not an inch of space left between them. The water offered a protective shield as they drowned in each other. 

“Can you keep the water on?” he asked when he felt her reach for the wall. 

“I’m just going to wash your hair if that’s okay,” she said. 

He nodded. 

With gentle fingers, she massaged the shampoo into his brown locks. He closed his eyes. The tension in his muscles eased up. For once, he wasn’t plagued with thoughts and overwhelming noise. He could barely feel the weird wrinkly texture of his fingers that he hated or smell the ghastly chili his neighbors had for dinner. He only heard, felt, and smelled her. 

Eventually, she moved on to her own hair. He stood leaning against the wall. Her movements made no sounds, but her heart did. He focused on that. The water continued pattering down on the tiles until it went cold, and even though they had been in there for at least an hour, he still winced when she turned off the water and the soothing sound disappeared. 

He stayed close to her even as she stood in front of the mirror, brushing through her hair. Or when she cleaned her face and applied moisturizer. He was afraid that if he stepped out of their bubble, New York would burst his eardrums. No, he was sure that would happen. If he left the bedroom, he would feel the need to put the suit on and leave because someone out there needed help. Someone out there was waiting for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen to come and save them. Every night, it was the same. He no longer had an excuse not to follow through on his promise to protect the city. Eliza was okay, she didn’t really need him. He needed her. He needed to hold her and be by her side, but the guilt was stronger. His need to be out there was greater than giving into temptation, but God was he tired. He was tired of hearing bad things happen to good people and not being able to stop everything that was wrong with the world, so even being Daredevil grew into a tiring task. 

She would come with him if he told her, and she was the one who needed to rest the most. Or perhaps she needed to be out there and fight, he wasn’t really sure. His head was as much of a mess as hers was. All of his thoughts were sorted in the wrong drawers and eventually, they all scattered to the floor and he could no longer find the ones that were the most crucial. 

Matt didn’t realize he was fisting her shirt until her hand placed gently over his, brushing over his knuckles. “You should go,” she said to him. “Daredevil should go.”

His head perked up, lips parting in unspoken words of denial. She knew him better than that already. 

“I can’t, not tonight. I have to… you should go.”

She managed to unclench his fist from her shirt, turning around to face him. Eliza brushed a wet strand of hair from his face, noticing how he leaned into her touch as if he was in pure agony. 

“I know you gave me that suit for a reason,” she continued, “but I realized that there is something else I need to get out of my system first. I can’t be that scared, clueless little girl anymore.”

“You’re gonna read the letter,” he said, although she barely heard him with how quietly he spoke. 

She nodded her head along slowly. “I have to,” she said. 

“And you wouldn’t be mad if I left?”

“No, baby, I wouldn’t.”

Under his breath, Matt’s lips formed a silent curse. Then, he finally opened his eyes again. They turned up at the ceiling first, then traveled back down to where he could hear her breathing against his chest. 

“I don’t deserve you,” he said. 

She met his lips halfway, “Nonsense.”

The kiss lasted no longer than a few seconds, but they were enough to steal his breath away. “No, really, I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’ll thank God every single day for this - for you.”

“I love you,” said Eliza. She stroked through his hair. “And you are deserving of my love, Matthew. I promise you that.”

He repeated the same action, though his hand soon glided down to brush over the side of her face, touching over the faint smile that rested on her lips and imagining what she looked like amid the remaining shower heat with her hair all wet and her eyes brighter than the galaxy. His knuckles graced her rosy cheeks. “And you are deserving of mine, sweetheart,” and around her neck, he felt her pulse as he said, “I promise you that.”

She could only kiss him then, unsure if there were even words to describe how she felt. 

The loneliness that came with the slamming of the rooftop access door that night was filled with dread rather than relief. It was the first night she hated the privacy she craved. She wasn’t sure what would have happened if she asked him to stay, but she would have felt suffocated nonetheless. This was something that she needed to do alone. 

Her lungs filled with air, puffing her chest, and she released it all in one big exhale before she slowly tore open the red envelope that held the letter from her late mother. 

One last step toward closure and she would be done. Reading this letter, holding a funeral for her father and she could close the final chapter of her story for good. It was time to enter the epilogue. She usually hated literature metaphors, but nothing seemed to match up to what happened more. 

My dearest daughter,

Where to start? Today, I found out that you are going to be a girl. I’ve been waiting for this moment anxiously for months, but the doctor told me that you’re still a healthy baby girl and that I might actually make it to term. I saw the good news as a better sign than ever to start this letter because I don’t know where we’ll be in two months' time. I wanted to leave you something in case something might happen to me before you’re old enough to remember me.

I want you to know that from the day I found out I was pregnant, you’ve stolen my heart. I love you unconditionally like a mother would love her child. I would do anything for you, even now, and you’re not even born yet. From the day I first heard your heartbeat, I knew I could never tire of hearing it. 

Your father is an amazing man. He’s the man I chose to love, marry, and be with for the rest of my life. And I’m sure he’s going to make a great father someday. He got more excited than I did when we found out we were having a girl, and that said something. Deep down, he’s always wanted to be a father, and I’m glad I could give that to him. So even if something happens to me in the future, I know your father will always have your back. He will always be by your side and take care of you when I no longer can. He’s a dedicated man and he loves deeply, so he is going to love you in a way that exceeds all expectations. I know he already does. 

If you are anything like your father, you’re going to turn out just fine.

The creaky wooden table bucked at the force of the heavy pile of paper hitting it. The little girl on the top was barely a year old. Next to the pile, a check landed. 

Father Lantom looked up from his chair, meeting her eyes. Dark circles adorned them, but she tried to cover them with concealer. He switched between the set of photos and Eliza herself, trying to make sense of her silence. 

“My father died,” she stated eventually. 

He nodded slowly. If it had been his intuition during Sunday Mass or just his general understanding of humanity that told him something was amiss, it didn’t matter. 

“Listen,” Eliza pulled the wooden chair back, “I have no idea how God works, but if he is as forgiving as you make him seem, he’ll have a breath or two left for my father. He might not have been the best, but he deserves to be laid to rest and move on. I know I do. So I need you to hold a symbolic funeral in his name. There is no body, don’t ask me why, but I’ve got money here,” she said and lifted the check, “and I’ve got some memories. I didn’t know him that well, but it should make it easier to humanize him. Can you… would you mind doing this for me, father? Just this once. Do me a favor.”

He hummed as he took the pictures into his hands. “A lost soul deserves to find peace in death the same way your or mine soul would,” he told her. 

She followed his movements with her eyes. “Is that a yes?”

“That depends,” the Father smiled at her, “Are you willing to tell me what I need to know in order to make it happen?”

At his words, she began to gnaw at her bottom lip. His eyes seemed to burn holes through her skin. “Okay,” eventually, she caved in. 

One step closer to closure. One step closer and she could move on. It kept her motivated to push forward. The thought alone was excruciating, but Matt was right, if she wanted her father’s soul to move on, she had no choice but to let Father Lantom do whatever Catholics had to do in the name of their faith. She was willing to do it as long as her story could finally come to an end and she could open a new page in a new book, finally. It was what her father would have wanted for her, and especially her mother, too. 

I need you to know that a couple of months ago, there was an accident. Your father and I experimented with forces we couldn’t understand, and I made the mistake of following my curiosity to the point it hurt both of us. 

The reality stone is an elemental crystal that has not yet been researched enough. Hardly anyone knows it exists, as do the other five infinity stones. You’re too young to understand, and you will be for a while, but when you do, you need to understand that what happened to us was an explosion of epic proportions that should have killed me and you with it the second it happened. But I woke up and your father was there, and he told me that you were okay. That your heart was still beating. 

I wasn’t sure what happened, so we started to run tests. No doctor in the world could have understood what was happening, so we used the lab - or what was left of our research lab, anyway, to test my blood. The stone was gone, somehow I must have absorbed it, we’re still not sure how it happened. And then we started fearing what it might do to you. I thought it would kill you slowly and that I would lose you before I even got the chance to meet you, and at seven months, that fear is still pretty much present. But there is a fear that’s stronger now. 

I don’t think I’m going to make it out. You survived the blast because somehow, your body absorbed the power. I don’t know how I know it, the tests can only do so much and you’re still inside of me so that makes it almost impossible to safely study your health without a doctor present, and he says you’re fine. I can feel that you’re fine. But I’m starting to realize that I’m not fine, and it’s not you. It’s the blast of the stone that weakened me. The only reason I’m alive right now is because of you. I have this looming feeling deep down that the euphoria will be short-lived. I’ve got a taste of knowledge when the stone hit me, and a better view of things now that I’ve come to accept what happened.

I know you are going to survive, baby, and be the strongest child anyone has ever met, but I’ve got the feeling that I won’t be there to be with you. Your father will be, he’s fine and he’s going to be great, I know it, but I won’t be there. You’re going to have to rely on your father from the day you’ll be set into this world, and I am so sorry for being so reckless and putting us both in danger just because I couldn’t let this good old scientist’s curiosity be. 

I want you to hold onto your father and he will hold onto you. I pray to a God I don’t believe in that he makes sure you two will stick together until you’re old enough to make your own decisions, and that you won’t get sick, too. But call it a mother’s intuition; I get the feeling you’ve survived for a reason, and your body and mind are already so strong, the doctor is amazed at how fast you’re developing. I can’t help but be hopeful when thinking about your future. Whatever the stone did, it chose you to survive, and you’re going to do great things in life. 

I made it my life’s purpose to find knowledge and set an example for future generations with the work I do. Your father and I make a perfect team. We did a lot of research before the accident and we’re trying to research more about the force that knocked me out now. It’s insane how versatile our world is, how fragile reality can be, and how manipulative our DNA actually is. Maybe you’ll be interested in science one day too, and then you’ll be just like me. I kind of hope you’ll get my face and your father’s intelligence — it’s always been my dream to have someone continue our legacy, but in the end, it’s your choice what you want to be when you’re older. 

Hell, who knows, maybe you’ll turn out to be a genius that’s really into engineering like Howard Stark. Or you’ll find an interest in criminal justice. Someone who likes to help people. Someone who wants to do good. Maybe you’ll turn into a hero. Maybe you’ll turn into a doctor or a lawyer and make a shit-ton of money. You’ve got the whole world at your feet and you can be whoever you want. Isn’t that great? I hope your father doesn’t forget to teach you how important it is to know that you have all the possibilities in the world to be whoever you want to be, and whoever you feel you are supposed to be. 

Follow your heart, always. It’s ancient advice that even your great-great-grandmother started handing down the girls in our family. Be your own person. Stand up for what you think is right, even if it might seem terrifying. Don’t just do it for me, do it for yourself. Be yourself because that’s the only right person you could ever be. 

The heels of her boots crushed the gravel on the asphalt, pushing it into the hot ground. The sun had regained some of her strength and shone down on the streets of New York with new intensity.

The ruins outside of the building in Hell’s Kitchen seemed all too familiar. Yellow tape was stretched around it, and most of the heavy debris was now cleaned up because it was blocking the sidewalk, but the inside was still torn to shreds like the day she had left it. 

Eliza stepped over one of the bricks blocking the entrance - what had once been a door was merely a hole in the wall anymore, covered by a makeshift sheet of plastic to hide the interior from curious eyes. The sign hung long, the lights out. It was noon then, not the usual time for people to go to bars other than the occasional alcoholic. She had been like that once. She had shared a drink or two in the same bar that was now destroyed because of her. 

She cleared her throat through the smoke. The woman in question stood behind the counter, cleaning some of the remaining liquor bottles. She wondered if she did that every night. 

Josie barely had any money. She kept the doors to her bar open with the help of Matt and Foggy and the little money she made. She had been in serious debt long before, and ever since the bomb went off all those weeks ago, nothing changed from the mangled state of the establishment. 

Guilt started to eat at her heart like a zombie searching for food. She cleared her throat again, this time to catch the woman’s attention. 

“We’re closed!” Josie called out. Her voice sounded weak and sleep-deprived. “Or destroyed or whatever. We’re not selling any drinks until further notice so get fucked!”

“Josie,” said Eliza. 

She stood guilty between the hole in the wall and the mess that spread through the bar’s inside. Vividly, she remembered covering behind the counter as the shots rang out. Foggy’s bleeding head flashed across her inner eye, and the glass in Matt’s shoulder she had to pull out. Not long after, their relationship ended for the first time, and then everything went to shit. It hadn’t been the explosion; everything that happened after caused her life to drastically go to hell. 

She wiped her sweaty hands. The woman turned around, her face blank, and she dropped the Bourbon she had been cleaning seconds before. She acknowledged her presence with a roll of her eyes. “You’re not welcome here,” she said. 

“I know you hate me right now,” Eliza tried again. 

Josie interrupted her. “You’re damn right I do! And I don’t owe you a second of my time, so I suggest you get that pretty little spoiled ass back where it came from before I call the cops. This place might be ruined but it’s still my bar and I don’t want you trespassing here.”

The words stung as if she wasn’t right to hate her. 

“Listen, I know it’s my fault that shit went down. It’s my fault this place is a mess. I’m sorry that Matt and Foggy even took me here, but… Josie, please,” she said. “I want to make what I screwed up right again.”

She took the shotgun off the wall. If she hadn’t said it, her expression wouldn’t have given away how she was feeling about her. 

Eliza lifted her arms. “I won’t stay for long. I just got you this-” she placed the slip of paper on the dusty counter, “It should cover all the rebuilding costs and a little extra to settle your debt and reopen. I’ve added the number of a great company that specializes in rebuilding places after a disaster. Say you’re a friend of mine and they’ll be here by the end of the week, and done in two.”

The bottom of the shotgun thudded against the floor. She leaned against it, watching the young woman intently as she placed both the contact card and the check right in her line of sight. She nodded, arms still raised in defense, and retreated. 

“I’m sorry,” she said again, “I really am. I hope things work out for you.”

Josie found herself in a state of shock when she caught the eye of the numbers. It was a large sum of money, and the company she referred her to didn’t look all too cheap. She said it was enough. She took care of everything. And so it happened that she did get an appointment for the end of the week like Eliza predicted, and the construction team was sure to finish the rebuilding of Hell’s Kitchen’s once so infamous bar in two weeks.

Another point on her list of amends to make that she could finally cross off.  

Right now, you’re doing cartwheels, and it makes me smile so brightly because I know there is a fighter within you. You’re strong and you’re going to make it out of this and become the woman I’ve always envisioned my future daughter to be. 

And, for the love of God, when it comes to being curious, try to be just a little less reckless than me. Can you do that for me? Always do right by people, that was what my mother taught me, and put others before you, but when it comes to danger, I have realized, you should stop and think before acting. You can’t always ask for forgiveness, so you have to be cautious. Sometimes, making conscious decisions is more important than making rash ones, even if they would go faster. You have to go through life with a certain genius, and you always have to come prepared. 

“I’m sorry, did you just say you inherited nine-hundred-thousand bucks?” 

It was around lunchtime at the Nelson & Murdock law firm in Hell’s Kitchen. Not that they were following a strict time plan, anyway. 

Matt leaned against the doorframe while Foggy and Karen sat before Eliza in the conference room. The former handed her one of the to-go cups of coffee he picked up and she took it gladly. 

“I believe I said Dollars instead of bucks, but yeah, that’s pretty much the gist of it,” she said. 

“You have that much money in your bank account right now?” Foggy asked again, his eyes wide and his jaw slack as he stared up at her, flabbergasted.

Her lips formed into a thin line. “Yup.”

“And it’s legal?”

“I checked,” Matt cut in. “We went to the bank yesterday. All the papers are in order. I went through them twice. No mistakes were made. The account this money is in now belongs to her,” he said.

“Jesus fucking- oh, my God! You’re rich!”

Karen nudged him with her foot. “Foggy,” she berated him. Turning around with a soft smile, she looked at Eliza. “I’m sorry to hear about your father,” she said to her. “Losing a family member is hard.”

“It’s okay,” she waved her off, “That was weeks ago. What I wanted to tell you is that I learned something in the past couple of days. I learned to make more conscious and thought-out decisions, so I started making amends.”

Even Matt seemed surprised when she unlocked her laptop and turned it around. He knew she wanted to tell Foggy and Karen about the sudden money blessing, but she hadn’t told him what she wanted or had already done with it. 

Eliza smiled shyly. “It’s your account’s bank statement,” she said. “I’ve got it here for you, hold on…” While she scrambled through her bag, Foggy scrolled through the online page.

She had printed the bank statements in Braille the day before when Matt wasn’t home. He hadn’t thought anything of the printer smell in the apartment. He never suspected she would have done anything like this. He frowned rather gently, giving her a small, confused smile when she handed him the papers. 

“Nine-hundred-thousand dollars is a lot of money, and I don’t really need that much. I’ve screwed up a lot in a short amount of time, and I’ve caused even more damage. But I’ve also realized that while I may not be an Avenger anymore, I still have some sort of purpose in this life and that purpose means to help people wherever I can. Whether it be fighting or in real life.” 

Karen slapped a hand in front of her mouth. All the color had faded from Foggy’s skin as he stared at the screen, his hands gripping the edge of the table impossibly tight. It was she who spoke up first. “There are no red numbers,” she whispered. “That has to be a failure in the system or something, I-”

Tracing his fingers over the dots on the paper, Matt tilted his head to the side. There was no failure in the system or a mistake in the numbers. “You paid off our debt,” he stated. He was the only one able to form coherent sentences as he was the most used to keeping cool in unpredictable situations. 

“She paid off-” Foggy stammered; he resembled a broken record with scratches all over the surface. “Eliza- she- you- shit!”

She figured that curse word summed it up pretty well. 

She shrugged. “You’re no longer in debt, but that doesn’t mean you won’t be as soon as the next bills come in, so you better start generating some revenue until then or the money I just put into your account and to pay off your unpaid bills means shit- oh!”

He drew her into a tight hug. Eliza squeaked, wrapping her arms around his neck to save herself from slipping.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Foggy chanted into her ear. “You’re the first rich person to know how to deal with a fuckload of money. You just saved our asses. Oh, I love you so much!” He stiffened, pulling away to grin awkwardly down at her. “But not in a creepy way, of course,” he said. “More in a best friend kind of way, you know. I love you as a friend.”

“Yeah,” she said, “I got it.”

In return, he squeezed her again. “I’m so grateful Matt chose you and not some random girl from a bar who would have never been blessed with her dead father’s money.”

She patted his back. “Thanks?”

“I did not mean that disrespectfully,” he felt the need to add, “Because I am still very sorry for your loss, but you know since he wasn’t daddy of the year, I doubt you’re mad at me for saying that. Are you?” Foggy tilted his head. 

Eliza was quick to chuckle. “It’s fine,” she said. 

“Oh, thank God!”

“Besides, this isn’t the only thing I did…”

Karen perked up. “There’s more?” her breath hitched. “That’s already too much. I know how much debt we were in. You just spent a fortune for us,” she said. “That’s… that was so kind, Eliza. But you shouldn’t have done that. It’s your money. We could have survived, we-”

“You would have, but you don’t have to do this alone. I did it because I felt the need to do some good. And as to me paying for the damage I’ve caused personally… I handed Josie a check that will take care of the reconstruction of the bar, and I’ve got her the contact information for a company that will do it as fast as humanly possible and gets her a discount on my name. So, you’re gonna have your bar back in no time. All’s well that ends well.”

Eliza clenched her fists. She kept her head low, not sure what she would find in the eyes of her friends and her current only family. She had paid back some of the money she owed Happy and then there was the second set of bank statements in Matt’s hands that he was just aimlessly tracing his fingers over, and she couldn’t watch their reactions anymore. She nodded curtly before brushing past and retreating to the small office kitchen. Her cup was almost empty and she needed more caffeine to keep up with the day. 

Footsteps sounded from behind her. Judging by the sound and the length of the stride, she knew who it was even before the shiny tops of his dress shoes came into view next to her own feet. 

The Braille papers landed next to where her palm lay flatly against the surface of the counter. His hand came to trace the loose strand of hair that had slipped from her braid. “You paid all of my bills and two months rent in advance, plus you paid the firm out of its red numbers… you even balanced out my- our bank account, I-” Matt hugged his arms around her from behind, “Thank you so much,” he said with his lips pressed to her ear. “Who knew making my bank account a joint one would lead to more money flooding in instead of you spending it all on books?”

She snickered. “That’s what library cards are for.”

“Library cards,” he chuckled, “Of course, I know.” His lips grazed the spot just below her ear that was sure to leave her shivering. “Still, thank you. You just saved my ass in more ways than one. I can’t even express… I just love you, okay? More than anything,” he told her. 

She let her rest back against his shoulder, allowing him to deepen the hug. Eliza wrapped her arms around his from the front, tracing over his bare forearms from where he had curled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. 

“You’re my life.”

The next kiss, Matt planted against her temple. She leaned in, her heart bouncing in her chest.

“I love you too,” she murmured. 

His lips smacked against her skin again, the sound filling the small space, and then he was gone again. His thumb rubbed over her hip briefly before he turned and took the bank statements with him t discard them in his office. He was clean like that. 

With a giddy smile, she wasn’t proud of, Eliza kept stirring the sugar into her coffee, subconsciously taking out three more to make another batch for her friends. It had become a routine. Although she could afford the expensive brew from the coffee shop down the block now, she preferred the new homeliness more.

She wouldn’t go back to working for Tony even if he came crawling. She liked the quieter office, the people that were like family, and the freedom to do whatever she wanted. Also, it was nice to have Matt around, but that only came in second. She liked working at a law firm for a change, even though they hadn’t dealt with an actual client yet, and she would probably still stay even if they went out of work entirely. The feeling alone made it worthwhile. She didn’t need to be paid to enjoy working somewhere, she realized, at least not at Nelson & Murdock and that showed her that she may have already found her calling.

Being a woman in this world is a big deal. You are going to be born blessed with attributes and gifts that will not only be unique to you but will be a blessing for all those whose lives you will touch. You will encounter lessons and opportunities for growth along the way, but I must tell you, that you are also being born into a world where proving yourself is still something that seems to be needed every single day.

People will try to point you in certain directions, both well-meaning and not, and you will sometimes find yourself torn. There are things I wish I had known better as I was stepping out into the world, and these are things I’ve only learned through some of the hardest times in my life. I hope that in times of vulnerability and doubt, when you may feel the whole world is on your shoulders, you will know you are never alone.

Eliza had never gotten the chance to form a social circle outside of the Avengers, and that made her wary of the people that didn’t seem to fit her picture of the world. Natasha had been her only female friend at the time and even she almost screwed up. 

She and Karen were both very caring people who liked to tread carefully around strangers that might threaten their loved ones or even their personal defense mechanism. They didn’t let just anyone into their lives because they were both severely scared of being abandoned. They kept their hearts locked away, even when it came to friends because their pasts were too much to handle, and they felt as if other people would too easily judge or hate them and they would never find anyone who could understand.

She had been wrong in her analysis of the blonde paralegal from the beginning. She suspected jealousy, but it was more a state of being careful around someone as mysterious as Eliza than it was the pettiness. 

A hand found its way onto her shoulder and she turned, surprised to see Karen standing before her. She didn’t say anything, she simply leaned down and hugged her. It wasn’t long, but it was a strong one. 

“We got off on the wrong foot,” she said. “I misjudged you because I am a deeply mistrusting person when it comes to people I can’t read and I am sorry that it seemed as if I was trying to get rid of you or purposely hurt you. I see the kind of person you are clearly now and I understand why you became an Avenger in the first place. It isn’t because you’re… a mutant or- or have a dark past. You became an Avenger because you’re good at heart.”

Her smile could light up a room and Eliza only then realized how beautiful her eyes were. The brightest blue matched her yellow-blonde hair which often appeared strawberry in the sunlight. With her skin so pale, she could only think of Rapunzel, or a fae levitating in a magically enchanted forest. Now that she saw her clearly, Eliza wondered how she could have ever felt resentment toward her because Karen was pure at heart. Her powers had told her so once, but she ignored them for the sake of giving her the same reservations back, and she had been so focused on Matt that she didn’t realize the world didn’t revolve around him all the time. 

She had been so incredibly foolish, both of them had, and it was time to start over. 

“I have to apologize, I did not make myself seem approachable, at all,” Eliza answered. “I’m not sure what got into me, but I never wanted to be enemies with you, let alone hate you from the beginning. I never did. I just felt the need to defend myself ‘cause that’s what I always do when I feel threatened, so…”

Karen chuckled. “You felt threatened by me?” Her eyebrows furrowed, the smile on her lips remaining. She made it sound like it was so far-fetched to feel threatened by someone as beautiful and graceful as her. She probably perceived herself as worse than she was. 

She was human, after all. 

“It’s stupid, I know.” She turned away, looking back down into the black coffee. “I’ve got this fragile feminity sometimes, even though I claim to be feminist, so I wouldn’t take anything I say seriously. I realize I was foolish now.”

“Is this about Matt?” she asked. 

“Matt? Oh, no! It’s… you’re everything you want in a woman, Karen, and I guess I was the jealous one for idolizing the life you led because compared to mine when we first met, you had it together. It felt easier to hate you than to allow myself to like you and project how unhappy I am with my life onto you. It’s a thing with my brain,” Eliza explained, “And I’m sorry things went the way they did.”

“My life isn’t perfect either,” said Karen. “And there’s nothing you have to feel threatened by. I think I made you feel not welcome, which made matters worse, so I gotta apologize too.”

“Well, thank you. I, uh, appreciate how understanding you are.”

“You’re a kindhearted person, Matt is lucky to have you.”

Searching her face for signs of a lie, she came up with none. 

“Do you love him?” she asked. 

Karen put a hand on her shoulder. “Not in a way that could ever match up to how you both feel for each other,” she answered. “No one can, and that’s the kind of special love you gotta hold onto before it’s too late…”

And here’s more of what I’ve learned, in case I won’t get to teach you this myself:

One, you are you for a reason, and if you were any different, you wouldn’t be you. You are perfect as you are. Don’t let anyone tell you it’s not okay to be you. 

Two, in this world, knowing how to say no is important, and it’s okay to say it. Your life and your choices are your own. It’s going to be hard because some people, especially men, don’t understand what those words mean, but that’s why you need to learn how to fight and stand up for yourself before you can be taken advantage of. It will teach you how to be true to yourself.

Three, it is okay to want to feel safe. Living on the edge isn’t the answer. It’s okay to want that peaceful life everyone keeps talking about. I felt the same, I was always on the run from something I didn’t quite understand before I met your father, and now… I couldn’t imagine anything better now because no matter what happens, I know I have lived a life worth living and I found the peace I searched for. Your safety is always paramount, my little girl. It is your absolute right to feel safe in your home, in your skin, and in your world. Trust your gut, it never lies.

Four, it’s not common knowledge but it’s actually okay not to like yourself sometimes. Some days, you will feel tired, frustrated, and annoyed with yourself, and that’s okay. Allow it to be there, but then stand in front of the mirror, and look at the incredible creature that looks back at you. She will keep you going even when you have no faith in her. I promise.

Five, I want you to understand that it’s okay to be sad and cry. There is no weakness in showing emotion. Crying is how the body processes emotions, so let it happen when it needs to. You will learn empathy and compassion through your own tears. It’s okay to let it out, it will only make you stronger. It makes you human.

Six, it’s okay to wait. We watch those around us discover new paths in life, and if it’s something you one day dream of, don’t rush. A lifetime of ‘settling’ is far worse than waiting for the right partner and the right time to reach you. I swear on my life. Even if you feel as though you’re beyond ready to go down that next path, don’t try to force it. There will be a reason it hasn’t happened yet, and when that right person turns up, I promise you will know it and everything about it will make sense.

Seven, it’s okay to make mistakes. It’s okay to screw up. Failure is only when you don’t learn the lesson. I have made monumentally huge mistakes in my life. I have found myself in situations I couldn’t get out of fast enough, learned the hard way about how to be a responsible adult and burnt relationships that definitely could have been handled in better ways. But those mistakes helped me to learn, helped me to recognize signs, be better prepared, and understand compassion and connection with other people, in a way I couldn’t have without having first got it wrong.

And eight, what I often think about now, is that it’s okay to say goodbye. As you grow through life, people will come and go. You will find friends who will stick for life, but sometimes, you will discover that some people no longer ‘fit’ as well as they used to. And sometimes, people die. Death is unpredictable, but when it happens, you don’t have to hold on. It’s okay to say goodbye to the living and the dead, and it’s okay to move on after you’ve been hurt. It’s okay to close a chapter when it’s finished. There’s no use in holding onto the past when the future has so much more in store for you.

When her mother died, she was just an infant. She had not seen the inside of a funeral since then. She watched some of the most popular ones in tv history and she read about what catholic funerals looked like, but they were all essentially different. Not every person that dies wants to go out the same as everyone else, and that’s understandable. Everyone’s life before death was different and funerals need to be cut out individually. 

She thought she could prepare for the dreaded day by watching the video her father left her on repeat, but in the end, when she sat on the hard wooden bench in Clinton Church with Father Lantom before her, Matt, Foggy, and Happy (the only people who knew the whole story), she felt like a scared little child left in the middle of a crowded room. 

He made true to his promise to keep the service short, but there was still some depth to his words that struck all the chords in her heart to sing an agonizing tune of loss she had never felt to this extent before. Grief and she were old friends, but this was unfamiliar and different and it hurt like hell. 

“Father of all, we pray to you for Anton, and for all those whom we love but see no longer. Grant to them eternal rest. Let light perpetually shine upon them. May his soul and the souls of all the departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.”

It was the classic prayer to speak at a funeral, but even that seemed deeper than it had on paper before. 

“Today’s eulogy is a bit different from how I usually do things,” Father Lantom began after the catholic introduction and everyone had settled back down in their seats. “But the man we lay to rest today, Anton Petrova, was not a usual man. He wasn’t ordinary. So instead of writing a speech on the kind of man he was - Anton was a mysterious human being and not many truly know him, so that would be redundant - today, I have decided I want to start and end this eulogy with a poem. Because while he might not have been a man of many words, his daughter was born with a much more open heart and she likes symbolism as much as the next person. It was his daughter that asked God to forgive Anton for the sins he committed so he can be laid to rest. And when she believes that there was good in this man, then it has got to be the truth. From what I gathered, he would have made a great father if the circumstances would have been different, and we can’t hold a person’s mistakes against them when they’ve already repented for what they’ve done.”

She closed her eyes. Maybe she should have taken him up on his offer to read his speech beforehand. She waited for his words as if she was waiting for the guillotine to come down on her head.

“You would know the secret of death. But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life? The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light. If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life. For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one. In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond; And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring. Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity. Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honor. Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king? Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling? For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and melt into the sun? And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered? Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.”

A lonely tear ran down Eliza’s cheek and onto the collar of her dress. Matt squeezed her hand reassuringly. Once again, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking behind those red glasses. And when it was her turn to speak, his hand was suddenly gone and she was alone in the limelight of God and seemingly the world. 

She cleared her throat, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other. She had prepared a small speech, but the words got lost in her. She was hollow, helpless, and she wanted nothing but to chope up and run out. But one look at her friends and she chose to be braver than her head kept telling her she was. 

Her mother told her she could do anything she set her mind to, be whoever she wanted to be, so she would follow her advice and speak her mind. 

“I didn’t really know my father,” she began, her voice echoing off the high walls, “But I did learn one thing when we first met again a couple of weeks ago - he’s just as insufferable as me.”

Chuckles came from the small crowd.

“I can say with confidence that he tried to be a good father. He made one crucial mistake and it destroyed more than it fixed, but he never had ill intent. So I don’t think he’s a bad person and if I had gotten the chance to see him before he-” she swallowed, “I would have told him that I forgive him for what happened. I know years of trauma are not so easily fixed, but a couple of days ago I read a letter from my mother and she put a lot of trust in him. She loved him. He was the love of her life and he loved her more than anything, too. And he loved me, which I understand now, even if he screwed up badly. He made the choice he thought would help me. He didn’t know what would happen, so, I forgive him, and if God really is real and he’s waiting for a sign on how to judge him, I’d say that he doesn’t deserve to suffer for something he didn’t mean to do,” Eliza said.

Her voice remained steady, but the tears were already burning behind her eyes. “I mean, we all make mistakes, right? It’s human. And forgiveness is human too. We all deserve second chances, and when you love a person-” she met the red void before Matt’s eyes, but he was smiling at her, “you would do anything for them, including forgiving them for fucking up everything.”

She paused.

“My mom wrote in her letter, I’ve long dreamed of the day I would become a mother. So many ideas, so many ideals, so many questions and longings and wonderings. I’ve not only had to learn to face the demons of my own past, but I’ve had to learn to let go.” 

She memorized every line after first reading them. The wounds were fresh, but the more she thought about it, the faster they started to heal. She was so close now. The worst would be over soon. After Anton was laid to rest, she could finally go home, not just physically but mentally too. There was no reason to be on edge anymore. The past would finally be over and she could move on. 

God knew she wanted nothing more than to move on from the mess that she had crawled out from.

“I had to face the demons of my past too,” she said. The tears grew stronger and for the first time that day, her voice quivered too. “And today I’m learning how to let go,” Eliza met Matt’s smile with a sad one of her own, “She said, nothing is ever truly in your way that can’t be loved, left, or learned from. And you are never alone. Someone will always be there to hold your hand, guide the way, or help you find the answers.”

The faint nod was directed at her and she took it with pride. Her mother was right, she had found the kind of love the woman had found in her father not so long ago. If she died now, she could say the same thing Guinevere did. She had found something worth living for, and she got everything she could have ever wanted. 

“And then there is the hope that when you’re older, the truth of your existence will be better researched, and you’ll be able to live a full life without being terrified. I know your father is working himself to the bone to figure it out, and I think he’s close to cracking the code. God,” she chuckled, “She was so devoted to him, which makes me think that I should have never held a grudge against him. My mother had faith in him so I have faith in him now too, hoping it’s not too late for him to feel it.”

In the back of her head, Father Lantom told her, ‘It’s never too late to have faith in someone’, and somehow his obnoxious voice was exactly what she needed to hear, even if it was just a very vocal thought. 

“I forgive you,” she said directed at the paintings on the ceiling. “It’s okay,” her voice cracked, “I do forgive you. And I think we should all do that, you know. We should all stop holding grudges. It’s unhealthy and life is too short to push away the people you love.”

The metal doors weren’t the quietest contraception. They creaked when they were pushed open from the outside. 

Eliza stuttered, stumbling over her words, and she stopped completely when she saw the face of the man who rudely interrupted the service. He wore his sunglasses darker than usual, but he had dressed in a black suit and a matching tie. On any other occasion, he would have loved to cause a scandal, but not today. 

All heads turned around. 

“Tony,” she heard Happy hiss, but the man’s attention was on her entirely. 

They stared at each other for seemingly endless hours. She wasn’t sure how to react, but his sudden appearance after all this time through her off, as did the impeccable timing he always had, and so she clenched her fists around the wood of the podium and kept staring at him until he straightened his suit jacket and caved. 

Tony slipped into one of the pews, sitting down far away from the rest of the group. He crossed his heart, sat up like a good catholic boy and he never once diverted his eyes away from her. 

She swallowed again, searching for the thread that once connected her thoughts, but it was gone. Perhaps she had already been done, anyway. 

Eliza excused herself and went back to her seat. Her heart beat up to her throat. “What is he doing here?” she whispered. 

Matt leaned down. “I don’t know,” he said. “Did you invite him?”

“I might have mentioned it to him in one of my many voicemails, but I didn’t think he’d actually come.”

“Well… life’s too short to hold grudges.”

She looked over her shoulder, meeting Tony’s stern eyes still hidden behind his sunglasses. 

“Maybe this is your chance.”

And she turned back to look at her boyfriend. “Maybe,” she said. 

Maybe. But for that, she would have to talk to him, and she wasn’t sure how to go about that either. She wasn’t even sure she would make it out of this church alive.

Sensing her discomfort, Matt simply took her hand and put it in his lap. His lips graced her cheek and he said all too familiar words that always managed to get tears into her eyes. “You’re going to be okay,” he told her. 

He held her hand and he told her she was going to be okay. She wasn’t alone. Someone was there to hold her hand and hold her heavy heart when the weight got too much to carry. Yes, she wasn’t alone, something she had been told the opposite of her entire life until she believed it to be true. 

But it had all been a lie. She wasn’t alone. She wasn’t unlovable. And she didn’t need a man with too much power to tell her who she was, not anymore. It was her life now and she held the keys to the ignition, ready to drive anywhere she wanted regardless of what other people thought.

Eliza was going to be okay, she knew that now.

As her mom said at the end of her letter, 

You are going to be okay, Alina. Even if I’m not around to take care of you, I know for a fact you’re going to be okay - because I’m your mother and I have a feeling that this world has great things in store for you. 

I pray that you will find that thing that lights the fire in your soul and uses the grace in your heart.

I love you. 

Yours truly, 

Mom.

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock fic #matt murdock x oc #foreigner's god #matt murdock x female!oc #matt murdock x original character #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #daredevil fic #mcu characters #matt murdock imagines #foggy nelson #karen page #hurt/comfort #matt murdock gets a hug #human disaster matt murdock #marvel #charlie cox #inspired by a mother's letter to her daughter #can't find her name though #or her blog #so credits to that lovely woman i'm sure she makes a great mother

[nxptvne-13]

Apple Trees | Sparrow! Ben Hargreeves x reader

Masterlist

This was written before season 3 was streaming

You'll also find this in my wattpad 😁

Trigger warnings? Death, angst, swearing

Summary: Number Two "Ben" Hargreeves rejected Y/n L/n multiple times throughout the years. But when a tragic event happens to them, he instantly wishes that he gave it a chance.

... But its too late. She's gone.

Note: Y/N is connected to nature. Plants grow when she is around, when she's sad a rain cloud appears above her, when she is mad or stressed a stormy cloud thunders down above her head. (Basically Pepa and Isabella Madrigal together 50/50)

꧁❀✿❀꧂꧁❀✿❀꧂

Ben misses her. He misses her so so much.

Why? Why couldn't he have put his ego down for one moment?

He could have had her in his arms right now. Looking into her gorgeous eyes, feeling her hair between his finger tips, smelling it.

They could have been so happy.

But no, Ben didn't put his ego down for one fucking second. Oh, he just had to be the leader. The perfect son for his father, giving up that one thing that ever made him happy. That one person that he never realized was his whole entire world.

Until it was too late.

One bullet was all it took. One that went straight into her heart and took her life away.

They were on a mission.

They always were, but this one was different.

They were too outnumbered.

While they were fighting people hand to hand and with their powers people was shooting at them from every direction.

They did tell him, both him and Marcus.

"We can't do this. We're too outnumbered."

"We can. Dad thinks so."

That was the problem. He only thought so. He didn't know so.

It was their mistake to not realize that.

Finally, they were winning, and then-

"Y/n! No!" Sloane had yelled.

Time moved slowly for Ben as she fell. Blood splattered, his brothers and sisters watched in horror.

Finally, it registered to him when he saw red pouring down her chest.

"NO!!!" The tentacles went wild in every direction killing everything in its path.

She was hurt, so so badly hurt. 'And she was going to die, if they don't go home fast enough. '

As soon as the tentacles returned, Ben ran to Y/N's side, while on the other, Sloan was applying pressure to the wound.

"Ben-" Y/n chocked out.

He shushed her. "Save your strength."

He lifted her up into his arms and ran her to the jet.

"Pogo! Hurry!" he shouted to the cockpit.

"Ben, she's not gonna last any longer," Sloane cried. "It went through her heart. She'll never make it."

"No, no, there has to be a way-"

"Ben," her soft voice interrupted him. "It's okay."

"No, no, it's not okay. This is not okay. I-I-" his lip trembled. " I can't lose you. "

Tears prickled her eyes.

"You're not going to.." she whispered. "You didn't have me in the first place."

Her words stabbed him.

"I-I regret ever doing that to you, okay!?" he sobbed. "I'm sorry I never gave us a chance! You've always been around and- and- it hurts so much to think of a time that you won't be here anymore," he shakily grabs her hand, kissing it. "Y/n L/n, I love you so much and I'm sorry for everything. "

She shakily cups his cheek.

"I-I love you too," she whispered. "I'm sorry that it had to end this way when we never even started."

"Don't say that."

"But it's true, Ben. I can feel it," she whispered. "My hands are starting to feel numb."

"Hey, hey, look at me," Ben said turning her head back to him as her gaze started to drift away from him. "We're almost there. Mom can help."

"I've been holding on as long as I can, Ben.. I love you," her eyes fluttered clothes.

"Y/n! Y/n, no no no no no. Stay awake for me, we're-we're almost there," Ben cried, shaking her shoulders. "y/n, y/n! Don't go, don't go. We can have this life. We can live this life together. Don't go. It's too early for you. You don't deserve it. "

His siblings were crying behind him.

"Please, please, please, come back. I want to do everything with you. Damn it," Ben sobbed, cradling Y/n's head to his chest. "I'm sorry, I'm so, sorry. Please, please don't leave me."

But it was too late. She was already too far gone. Out of his reach.

The funeral was two days later. There was no casket holding her body.

It didn't even make it to the doors.

Her body had started to change. Change into something more plant like.

The moment they landed, the winds stole her from him and layed her on the backyard.

When they ran right the edge of the roof to see what happened, they saw a tree growing in the backyard.

An apple tree. They were always Y/n's favorite.

Present Day

"Hey," Ben said, standing under her apple tree. "I miss you."

"I brought you one of your favourites today," placing (fav/flower) on one of the roots poking out of the dirt.

"I also got The Titans Curse with me," Ben said sitting down. "Now, I understand why you liked Riordans works so much."

"I... I wish I listened to you more," Ben said, after a few chapters. "You.. You always used to ramble about these books to me. Then, when you realized I wasn't listening, you stopped all together. And now, I miss hearing your voice."

Suddenly, there was a loud crack of thunder inside the house.

Ben ran inside to hear unfamiliar voices in the lobby.

"Did we actually succeed at something?"

"That's incredible!"

"Oh!"

"I don't know about you guys but I need a drink"

"Yes"

"In fact, I need several."

Ben lurked at the hallway, listening. While his siblings were upstairs.

"Why is there a painting of Ben over the mantle?"

How the hell do these assholes know his name?

His siblings shot him alarmed looks.

Then his father's voice.

"I knew you'd show up eventually."

"Dad..." what the fuck did the guy mean by that!?

"You're alive."

"Why shouldn't I be?" took the words right out of his mouth.

"Y-yeah, you're right. I'm... I'm just happy we're home and... together again. "

Home!?!?

"'Home'? This isn't your home."

"What are you talking about?" one of the women asked. "This is the Umbrella Academy."

Umbrella Academy?!?!?

"Wrong again," his father said. "This... Is the Sparrow Academy."

His siblings took this as they're cue to appear on the balcony, so he came out into the open too.

"Dad, who the hell are these assholes?"

"Shit," they all synchronized.

They stared at him in shock.

He studied them for a while. There were to women on the left--one looked negro decent and the other Russian-a big buff gorilla guy in the back, a kid in a uniform almost identical to his, two other guys-with a knife out and maybe more- and the other had a cowboy hat and was hiding someone in between him and knife boy.

The guy with the cowboy hat was about to speak, but was interrupted by-

... Her voice? No, she was dead.

"Hey, guys! There's this apple tree in the courtyard-"

They locked eyes.

'Oh my god.. It's actually her, ' Ben stares in shock. 'She's even more beautiful than before. '

"... Ben?" she hesitantly asks.

"Y/n..."

They step to each other slowly, as if afraid to spook away the other.

When they were finally less than an arms reach, Ben was the one who reached out first. For the first time in his life, he's the one reaching out to her than the other way around.

Ben hesitantly wiped a tear away.

That's what broke both of them and hugged each othe, crying.

"Im so sorry," Ben murmurs into her hair. "I-"

"Mom?"

'Mom?'

Y/n laughs shakily, reaching out to the girl.

"Ben, this is my beautiful daughter," Y/n said. "Our daughter."

Ben stares in shock. "But we... We were never in a relationship. I-I never gave us a chance. "

Y/n's face falls in confusion.

"I never realized just how much i cared... Until..." Ben sucks in a breath. "It was too late."

You could practically hear the cogs in Y/n's head turning. Her face turning from confusion, analyzing, to realization. A turn to the uniformed boy and a nod from him confirmed whatever she suspected.

"Oh..." She said. "That explains the tree..."

Y/n locked eyes with Ben. "In my world...or timeline, I was one of the lucky children that Reginald Hargreeves never bought. I met Ben Hargreeves, Number Six of the Umbrella Academy, at a coffee shop. We were friends, then best friends, to lovers, and to.." she sucks in a breath. "Fiance. But... We weren't able to get married... Because there was this one mission when we were nineteen. I wasn't able to go because I was heavily pregnant. But Ben did. He went and... Never came back alive. "

There were gasps from the Sparrow Academy.

"I was... Devastated. I gave birth after three nights. Right after the funeral. It was the most painful, but happiest moments of my life."

"