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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 1 year

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SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

The one where presenting triggers an avalanche of unknown roles. And Minho was definitely not meant to be a scientist.

The Twenty Third Installment of the SKZ!Pack Prequel Series.

Tags: Skz, Stray Kids, Stay, OT8, SKZ!pack, SKZ!abo, Poly!Skz, Omegaverse, FemReader, SKZ x you, SKZ x reader, OT8 x you, OT8 x reader, Bang Chan, Lee Minho, Seo Changbin, Hwang Hyunjin, Lee Felix, Han Jisung, Kim Seungmin, Yang Jeongin, Y/N, SKZ!pack prequel, Pack!Prequel, prequel series, new, update, Skz drabble

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Mentions of vomit

Title: Scientific Method

“What do we do? Is there someone we should call?” Jisung paces frantically, his fingers buried in his hair, his expression panicked.

Hyunjin scoffs from his spot on the couch, his arms folded over his chest, his whole posture stiff and screaming anger still. “What do you think there is? Some sort of ‘Presentation Police’?”

“Hyunjin.” Changbin warns in a low tone from beside the omega, eyes flashing to the distress obvious on Jisung’s face, in the souring of his scent.

The distress flooding everyone at this point.

“He’s right though.” Seungmin comments from his spot against the wall, watching everyone warily, as if he’s studying you all. “We will have to get the appropriate paperwork from the Heat Clinic to excuse him from studies.”

The beta shifts slightly, clearing his throat. “And delayed presentations, from what I’ve read, are like a heat, but on steroids. So whether he knows it or not, he’s gonna need an alpha-a knot-sooner rather than later.”

You don’t miss the way Changbin and Chan stiffen at his words, a muscle flinching in Chan’s clenched jaw.

Minho sighs, reaching out a hand to stop Jisung’s endless pacing, tugging the beta to him and tucking him beneath the safety of his chin.

Jisung’s body stills, but his foot still taps anxiously against the floor.

“What do we do now though? At this exact moment?”

Seungmin shrugs. “We’ll have to ask him-what he needs, what he wants. Every omega-especially newly presented ones-are different. No two are the same.”

Hyunjin snorts from his position on the couch, anger flaring to life in the dark recesses of his eyes.

“He’s in no fucking condition to talk, Seungmin. Kid can’t even keep water down. He’s miserable.”

You know why he’s angry-and he has a right to be-but your alpha growls warningly in response at the slight bitter flare to his scent, as if he’s challenging you.

You discreetly put a hand over your nose and breathe through your mouth, because the scents colliding in the room right now-heightened by uncertainty and rampaging emotions-are threatening to overwhelm you.

You can feel a headache starting to pound behind your eyes.

“He’s probably scared.” Felix whispers, eyes large and dark, expression grave and worried. He’s picking at a string on the blanket across his lap, and Hyunjin breaks his inactivity to reach out and place his fingers comfortingly over the other omega’s.

Felix gives him a grateful look before he continues.

“Someone needs to be there for him. I don’t know what late presentations are like, thank god, but I do know what heats are like, and he’s not going to want to be alone.”

Chan clears his throat, resignation in his eyes as he steps forward, glancing between you, Changbin, and Minho.

“We have responsibilities as the alphas of this pack to take care of our own. We need to ask him who he wants, before he suffers needlessly.”

“He’s already suffering.” Hyunjin mutters bitterly beneath his breath, and Chan turns to him, eyes suddenly flashing, but his voice steady.

“Hyunjin, you have a right to be angry on Jeongin’s behalf, we were boneheads, I get that, but no matter how stupid we’ve been going about it, we’ve always, always put this pack first, and that’s what we’re trying to do now. Please give us a little slack, and if you don’t have anything helpful to add, find somewhere else to be until you can get control of your emotions.”

You see Felix squeeze Hyunjin’s hand, and finally the omega nods once, curt and short.

Chan blows out a long breath and glances back to all of you, and you see the dark circles forming beneath his eyes, slowly bruising the tan skin.

“Okay. How do we do this?”

You feel something heavy sink into the pit of your stomach at his words, and you immediately hold out your hands, your voice quiet as you announce, “Well, he definitely doesn’t want to see me. So I’ll take myself out of the running.”

Chan opens his mouth to say something-maybe to agree with you, maybe not-but Seungmin beats him to the punch.

“Not necessarily.” The beta pushes off the wall and comes toward you, studying you with a sharp gaze that seems to look right into everything you’re so desperately trying to keep hidden. “You may have been a straight up alpha asshole, and Jeongin may be upset with you right now, but his omega is an entirely different story.”

You stare at him, and he gives you a slight smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he shrugs.

“Biology’s a bitch, remember?”

You sigh. “So you keep telling me.”

“I’ll just go and talk to him.” Hyunjin announces sharply, pushing up from the couch with a slight glare. “He’s used to my scent since I helped him down here to his apartment, so it shouldn’t trigger him too much or make him too territorial if I enter his nest-”

Suddenly, the omega sways on his feet, and Changbin is up in a flash, steadying him with an arm around his waist.

“Jin.” Changbin murmurs, his face pinched with worry and confusion as he stares at the omega. “You good?”

“Fuck, I don’t-” Hyunjin starts to say, shaking his head slowly, before he groans and leans over to clamp his arms around his midsection.

“Fuck.” He repeats again, and it’s a whimper this time, as Changbin takes all of his weight with a grunt and holds him upright.

“What the fuck is going on?” Chan asks, voice tight, as he kneels down in front of Hyunjin and tries to look up into his face, his hands going steadily on the omega’s hips.

There is the sudden sharp scent of lemons flooding out all the other smells in the room, and saliva starts to pool behind your teeth.

Your wolf begins to pace in agitation.

“I think I-” Hyunjin starts to say between gritted teeth, before doubling over once more.

And then you smell it, clear as day.

It makes your jaw ache, spit flooding your mouth, your wolf suddenly at full attention, hungry.

Slick.

“Aw, fuck.” Minho growls out, dark eyes growing more serious as he stares at Hyunjin. “Are you in heat?”

Hyunjin shakes his head violently, as Changbin helps him toward the door with slow, unsteady steps. “No! I’m diligent with tracking, I’m not even close-” “Wait.” You say, hurrying after Changbin and helping Hyunjin slip his feet into his sneakers. You glance up at the pained look on the omega’s from where you’re kneeling and suddenly, you feel stupid for not putting it together sooner.

“The same thing happened when Felix experienced his first heat as part of the pack.” You glance at Felix for confirmation, and he gives a quick nod, his eyes never leaving Hyunjin’s crumpled frame. “And now Jeongin-”

Seungmin’s eyes light up like he’s just put the puzzle pieces together too.

“Oh my god. We’re so fucking dense.”

You nod, and Hyunjin lets out a harsh breath, glaring as much as he can between the two of you.

“Spit it out. I’m dying here.”

You smooth a palm down his thigh, and the muscle trembles a little less beneath your touch, your pheromones blooming in the air between you.

“You’re our Luna.” You murmur, and your wolf growls with the rightness of it all. You can’t believe you hadn’t realized it sooner. You glance back up to Hyunjin’s pinched face. “You’re the Luna of the pack.”

Understanding crosses Hyunjin’s face, followed by panic.

“Fuck, I think I’m going to be sick-” He chokes out, and you don’t know whether it’s the sudden news of his position in the pack, or the impending heat, but he does suddenly look a bit green.

You stand, and open the door so Changbin can usher him into the hall.

“Take care of him, yeah?” You say softly as they pass you, and Changbin glances at you, nodding stiffly.

“I’ve got him, baby girl. Don’t worry.”

You nod back, holding his gaze. “I know.”

Hyunjin whines, and you have to tamp your wolf back down from answering the call.

You lean over once more to glance at his face, smoothing a hand over his hair.

“If you need me, baby-” You assure quietly, staring at him unwaveringly, your scent backing your firm words. “-I will be there immediately. Okay?”

Hyunjin nods, whimpering slightly beneath his breath, clutching his middle, and then you let them go, watching as Changbin helps him down the hall and out of sight.

You glance back in through the open doorway, to where the rest of the pack is still discussing how to help Jeongin, and now Hyunjin, and feel something heavy and forbidding settle into the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck.” You mutter beneath your breath, just to yourself and whatever God may be listening, before you go back into the apartment and shut the door.

***************

In the end, you all come to the decision that it’s for the best if the two betas go in to talk to Jeongin and see what he needs from all of you.

“Our scents are soft and faint, they won’t trigger him like the alphas’ or Felix’s would.” Seungmin had assured, looking between all of you seriously. “We’re also neutral ground, so his omega shouldn’t feel the need to be territorial over its nest either.”

And now Jisung was looking like he wanted to follow in Jeongin’s and Hyunjin’s footsteps and promptly hurl his guts up in the bathroom.

“I’m having a fucking panic attack.” He chokes out, leaning over the sink, palms flat against the cold marble of the counter, face red and sweaty.

You shut the door quietly behind you and approach him slowly, watching the way his chest heaves as he breathes in and out.

Well, gasps in and out.

“Jisung.” You murmur gently, coming up behind him and carefully sliding your hands over his, pressing your chest against his back, if only to ground him a little. “Breathe.”

“I can’t-” He stutters out, fingers clenching beneath your own, his whole body trembling, as he drops his head and gasps for breath, repeating again desperately, “-I can’t.”

“Jisung.” You echo, voice firmer this time, pressing more tightly against him, pinning him against the counter, hoping to settle him with your body weight. “Look at me.”

He lifts his head, just enough to meet your eyes in the mirror from beneath the dark fringe of his bangs, and you hold him steady with your gaze, watching the panic swirl in the depths of his eyes.

“Breathe.” You admonish again, softer once more, and Jisung manages to take in one deep, shuddering breath. You nod, squeezing his hands. “Good. Again.”

He takes in another breath, followed by another, and you wait in silence, until his heartbeat is no longer thundering through his back and into your own.

“Good boy, baby.” You praise quietly, rubbing your fingers over his own, as he ducks his head once more and takes a few more calming breaths. “That’s it. You’re doing great.”

You watch him carefully in the reflection of the mirror, gauging his condition, and after another beat of silence, he lifts his head and says hoarsely in a halting voice, not quite meeting your gaze, “I’m sorry.”

You immediately shake your head, snaking your arms around his waist now that he’s a tad calmer, squeezing him to you as you continue to both stand in front of the mirror.

“You have nothing to apologize for, ever. Not with me, not with any other member of the pack. We love you, baby. That will never change.”

You squeeze him once more, just for good measure, and he finally meets your gaze, his own large, dark eyes still slightly more shiny than normal.

“Thanks.” He whispers back, taking in another long, trembling breath.

You nod silently, still watching him, and then ask softly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jisung blows out the breath he had been holding, and his fingers tighten again against the lip of the counter, his knuckles whitening.

The scent of drying laundry filling the bathroom grows slightly moldy.

His body tenses beneath your hold, and you sink your chin onto his shoulder, just to remind him you’re there.

“I-” Jisung starts, biting his trembling bottom lip. “-don’t think I’m the right person for this job.”

You say nothing, waiting for him to continue.

He sighs, and releases his hold on the counter finger by finger, as if he just now realized how tightly he was clenching the stone for support.

“I don’t know what to say, or what to do, and I’ve never even dealt with someone during their cycle before-well, that’s not true, I’ve been with Minho-hyung for rut, but a heat is completely different according to Seungmin-and a whole lot is riding on this going well, and I-” His panicked rambling dies off into a groan, and he leans over the sink once more. “-Fuck, I think I’m going to be sick-”

You cling to him more tightly, and try to pull him back from the brink.

“Jisung.” You say firmly, keeping your voice calm and steady, your expression never wavering from his as you stare him down in the mirror. You mimic a deep, long breath. “Breathe, baby.”

He manages to pull in another breath at your words, and then another, and when he looks at you once more, he doesn’t look quite so intent on vomiting up his breakfast.

You let him calm down in silence for another beat, and then you ask quietly, voice firm, “Who made you feel like that?”

Jisung’s eyes flick up to yours, and there is surprise written on his face, mixed now with the panic.

“Like what?”

It’s your turn to take in a deep breath, something cold and final settling between your ribs now that you’re truly paying attention, as if your wolf knew what was happening before you did, growling low and threatening, ready to protect the beta enclosed in your arms with its final breath.

“Like you’re not good enough. Like you’re somehow lacking.”

You’re not just talking about the anxiety attacks either. You’re talking about the fact that someone made him feel as if he didn’t have anything to contribute to serious situations.

The thought makes you see red.

Jisung visibly winces, and you know you’ve hit the nail on the head.

“Jisung.” You say firmly, reaching up a hand to cup his chin, so he can’t duck his head and avoid your gaze any longer, your palm against his throat, the rapid flicker of his pulse speeding up beneath your touch.

His eyes are large and dark, and a silent tear rolls down one of his cheeks.

“You are an important, valid, loved member of this pack. When I say you can do anything you set your mind to, I mean it. And there is no one, no one, better for this job than you.”

His bottom lip quivers and you swipe your finger tip across it gently.

“You were the first one to make Innie feel welcome. The first one to help him get comfortable. The first one to invite him to hang out in a casual setting. You were the only member of the pack he trusted from the absolute very beginning. You, Jisung, no one else, you. And he needs you now. And we wouldn’t have asked you to do this, if we didn’t believe that you could.”

Jisung takes in one more deep, shuddering breath, and then nods, straightening his shoulders with a determined look.

“You’re right. I can do this.”

You give him the hint of a smile as he turns in your arms, and lean forward to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, swiping away the track left behind by the rogue tear.

The scent of laundry is cleaner now, giving hints of a warm summer day and fresh detergent.

“Yes, baby, you absolutely can.”

*********

“Stop pacing.” Minho snaps out, glaring at Chan, as he takes another circle of the room.

Chan shoots him an apologetic look and flops down beside you on the couch. “Sorry, Min.”

He glances at his watch and then to the empty hallway.

“They’ve been in there a long time. Do you think they-” “No.” You shake your head, knowing where he’s going, and let your hand rest on his jiggling thigh, stilling the nervous movement and hopefully keeping him place for a moment longer. “They’re okay. Jisung and Seungmin have got this.”

Chan sighs and nods, sinking back into the couch, but he doesn’t look happy about it.

The hand he covers your own with is trembling slightly.

“God, you’re like a nervous mother hen, hyung.” Minho remarks with a slight smirk, though you can tell, by his grip on the arm of the couch, that he’s not as relaxed as he’s pretending to be.

This whole thing has put everyone on edge.

“I can’t help it.” Chan protests, throwing his hands out helplessly. “He’s always on edge, but today it’s like ten times as bad.”

You know he’s talking about his alpha, and something in his words catches your attention, making you think for a moment.

Hyunjin being the Luna of the pack made sense after you’d put everything together, maybe Chan-

Your train of thought is interrupted by the reappearance of Seungmin and Jisung, and a fresh wave of a scent you’ve never smelled before.

Something yeasty, like rising bread? And spiced with cinnamon around the edges.

Your wolf immediately pricks its ears, growling possessively.

At the same time, Chan covers his nose beside you, pupils going wide and dark almost immediately.

“Fuck.” Jisung goes directly to Minho, curling up into his arms and snuggling his head against his chest, and Minho rears back, hissing slightly between his teeth.

Jisung glances up, expression offended. “What the fuck, hyung?”

Minho carefully deposits the put out beta onto his own cushion of the couch, and scoots closer to you and Chan, his own palm going up to cover his nose and mouth.

“No offense, Sungie, but you’re gonna have to shower before you come near me again.”

Now all three of you are crushed onto the furthest end of the couch, and Seungmin is watching from the doorway, open amusement on his features.

Jisung glances at the other beta with annoyance on his face, and Seungmin takes pity on him, coming to sit beside him as he pats his hand once in sympathy.

Minho practically climbs on top of you and Chan to get away.

“It’s Innie’s scent, hyung. It’s all over us.” Seungmin says, glancing over to the three of you with humor in his dark eyes, his brow arched. “He didn’t have one before, but now that he’s presenting, it’s kinda strong.”

“Kinda?” Chan chokes out, trying to breathe through his mouth, and you have to agree with his outrage.

You literally can’t take a breath of the yeast laden air without your entire body prickling with want.

“Well, fuck me, I guess.” Jisung grumbles, lifting the hem of his shirt to his nose as if to smell what Seungmin is talking about, then letting it fall in open disgust.

“Oh, I will.” Minho retorts back, his hand never leaving his face. “But only after you shower.”

“Well?” Chan asks impatiently, and Seungmin gives him a sharp look, to which he slumps back on the couch. “Sorry.”

“Wow, first you say we stink, now you’re taking tones with us?” Jisung wails dramatically, flinging himself over Seungmin, even as the other beta wrinkles his nose and tries, unsuccessfully, to shove him off. “The pack is being torn apart by this!”

“You don’t stink-” You start carefully, glancing at Chan and Minho, who look just as desperately frazzled as you feel. The saliva in your mouth echoes the truth of your words. “-quite the opposite actually.”

Jisung immediately ceases his wailing and sits up right.

“Oh?” He arches a brow, and a saucy look comes over his face. “So you’re telling me I shouldn’t do this-”

He makes a move to playfully lunge toward the three of you, piled on the end of the couch, and swear to god, you all visibly flinch.

“No!” You all shriek at the same time, and Minho’s elbow hits you square in the face and Chan takes your knee to his ribs as you all scrabble to get away from the smirking beta and the overwhelming, incredibly tantalizing scent of warm bread.

“Fucking hell, Jisung.” Minho groans, pinching his nose and screwing his eyes closed as if he’s getting a migraine. “Do you have a death wish?”

Jisung’s smirk grows wider. “Death by fucking? It’s my ideal way to go.”

“Yeah, well-” Chan sighs deeply. “Don’t play with fire right now, okay? Or our alphas are liable to jump you and never let you go. They’re-” He shifts uncomfortably beneath you, and you feel his hardness between your legs. It makes your mouth water more. “-incredibly riled.” He finishes lamely, and Minho scoffs and rolls his eyes at the obvious understatement of the century.

“Speaking of,” You turn to Minho, who is practically sitting on top of you, Chan on the bottom of your unfortunate dog-or wolf-pile. “Can you get your boner out of my face?”

He levels you with an even gaze. “Only if you get yours out of mine.”

Chan groans. “Seungmin, for the love of god, please just tell us who Jeongin wants so the other two of us can get the fuck out of here.”

Jisung’s face grows serious, and Seungmin lets out a long breath.

“He doesn’t know.” He lifts one shoulder in a shrug, even as your stomach plummets at the grave words. “You’ve all gotta go in there and see who his new omega responds to the most favorably.” Seungmin’s face darkens slightly. “But hurry up, because even if he doesn’t know it, he’s gonna need a knot, and soon.”

Chan nods resignedly. “All right. Do we get Changbin?”

“We can’t.” You immediately shake your head. “You know how Jinnie is in heat. He won’t let anyone else near him for the first twenty four hours.”

“Guess we’re the lucky Three Musketeers then.” Minho grunts, shoving himself up from the couch and offering you and Chan a hand. “C’mon Porthos and Aramis. Let’s get this over with.”

“How come you get to be Athos?” You grumble beneath your breath at the other alpha, but allow him to pull you to your feet regardless.

Minho arches a brow at you and gives you a look that brooks no argument as he pulls Chan to his feet as well.

“Because I said so. Now quit your whining and c’mon. Let’s go.”

********************

When you enter Jeongin’s bedroom, the first thing you’re hit with is the wave of scent.

It’s so thick you can taste it, warm and spicy on your tongue, saliva instantly pooling, teeth aching.

Your wolf is instantly pacing your insides, whining long and low, begging you to do something.

You clench your hands into fists at your side and glue yourself against the wall, because you’re not sure you can trust yourself to take another step.

Not yet.

Minho files in after you, his expression neutral, the only signal he’s taken notice of the new omega’s scent a slight flaring of his nostrils as he steps inside, leveling his gaze on the curled boy on the bed.

He crosses without hesitation, and crouches down beside Jeongin, careful not to disturb the carefully curated nest of blankets and pillows surrounding the omega, lining the edges of the small twin bed.

You admire his calm confidence, back hard against the wall.

“Hey, pup.” Minho says in a low, gentle voice, and Jeongin cracks open an eye, staring at Minho in slight confusion before recognition dawns on his features.

“Hyung?” He croaks out weakly, not moving from the fetal position, his arms curled around his middle.

His scent flares in response to Minho’s presence, and you grit your teeth, willing yourself to remain firmly in place.

Chan appears at your side, the last to come through the door, and you glance sidelong at him, noting the immediate change in his demeanor as the scent laden air washes over him.

His whole body stiffens, and you can see it, the alpha coming to life in the depths of his eyes, erasing the dark circle of his pupils as fiery gold washes in.

“Chan-” You start to say, not sure if you should reach out and touch him in his current state.

Minho reaches out to swipe a hand across the sweaty hair plastered to Jeongin’s forehead, and Chan growls, low and threatening in the back of his throat, the dangerous sound filling the room and making your every hair stand on end.

Minho glances over his shoulder at the other alpha, expression hard, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Christopher.” The name Minho always uses for your mate must snap him out of his alpha mindset for just a moment, because Chan is suddenly back, stumbling backward to plant his back firmly against the door beside your own, his eyes wide and dark, chest heaving, expression panicked.

A harsh wave of thunderstorm, so thick it threatens to choke you, rolls over the room.

This time, you reach out and lay a hand on his arm, and his frantic gaze snaps to your own.

“I can’t be here-” He chokes out, eyes flicking around the room, as if he’s looking for an escape route. He clutches at the fabric of his shirt covering his chest, as if his heart is pounding so hard he has to stop it from escaping. “-not with the two of you. Fuck, I need to go-”

Minho stands, slow and certain, staring Chan down.

Behind him, Jeongin whimpers.

“Do you want to rip my throat out, Christopher?” Minho asks so calmly, you have to double take on his words, his fingers pinching the skin of Chan’s wrist, his whole body stiff once more. “Rip it out for touching your little omega?”

Chan gulps, the sound loud in your ears.

“Minho, don’t.” You warn in a low voice, hand tightening to keep the alpha beside you in place.

Minho ignores you, cocking his head and arching a brow at Chan, completely relaxed.

“C’mon then. I won’t resist.” Minho smirks, baring his throat for Chan and going completely still.

Beside you, Chan freezes, and when you glance at him worriedly, his entire pupil is swallowed in a sea of roiling gold.

Minho snorts. “Oh? So you don’t care if I-”

He holds Chan’s gaze steadily, and reaches out to swipe a hand once more across the sweaty, pink skin of Jeongin’s flushed forehead.

A low growl emanates from Chan, and all of his muscles coil, as if he’s readying himself to pounce on the other alpha.

“Minho.” You repeat, harsher this time, and Minho finally looks at you. You stare him down. “Don’t.”

“I’m testing something, sweetheart.” Minho murmurs back, his gaze flicking back over to the other tense alpha practically vibrating beside you.

You have the silent thought that he could probably ‘test something’ when none of your lives are in danger, but you don’t say it out loud, choosing to keep a steadying hand on Chan instead.

“He’d just as soon rip your throat out too, you know.” Minho remarks, taking a step forward now, his searching gaze scanning Chan’s face. “Just because you’re his silly little moonmate or whatever Seungmin insists on calling it, it won’t stop him from turning on you with teeth bared if you so much as touch that omega currently on the bed, sweetheart.”

You glance to Jeongin, still curled into a ball, and then back to Chan, eyes wide, every breath a pant through his parted lips.

“Minho.” You try one more time, staring down the other alpha, who looks triumphant now. “Please stop.”

Thankfully, Minho listens to you this time, shrugging his shoulders easily, before he steps away from the bed and Jeongin and back toward the door.

Chan’s hackles slowly lower.

Minho smirks. “C’mon, sweetheart. I think I’ve proved my point.” He takes your hand off Chan’s arm and leads you around him to the door. “We’re not needed here.”

You stumble after him, still in a partial daze from Jeongin’s scent and Chan’s behavior, and let him pull you from the room, glancing over your shoulder as the door shuts behind you.

In the hallway, your head clears, and you’re whirling on Minho in an instant.

“What the fuck was that?” You demand angrily, the other alpha leaning against the wall and holding your gaze steadily, ignoring your obvious fury.

“What, you don’t know?” Minho inquires cockily, arching a brow, and you suddenly want to punch him in the face. He jerks his chin toward the room where you’d left Chan and Jeongin. “That, sweetheart, was a little test for Christopher, just to prove my theory right.”

You stare at him, something itching at the back of your brain, and Minho rolls his eyes at your silence and sighs, like he needs to walk you through it.

He pushes off the wall and closes the gap between you, reaching up to take your face in his hands and shake you a little.

“Sweetheart. Let me spell it out for you.” He slows down his words dramatically and you glare back at him, even as his lips curve upward into a smirk. “Christopher is a Head Alpha. More specifically, our Head Alpha.”

It clicks into place, and you remembered wondering, briefly, earlier.

You continue to stare, and Minho sighs again, releasing his hold on you.

You instantly miss the warmth of his skin and the sweet smell of bergamot in your nose.

You realize with a start that you’re still slightly riled from Jeongin’s overly strong scent, your wolf pacing restless, relentless heat slowly building beneath the surface of your skin.

“Minho.” You say as he turns to walk back to the living room, and he pauses, glancing over his shoulder at you with a raised brow.

The itch is growing, spreading over your body in prickling waves.

Staring at the full swell of Minho’s lips, bitten slightly between his sharp white teeth, is certainly not helping.

“Yes?” Minho goads, and you realize you’ve gotten lost in your own thoughts again.

You shake away the cobwebs and stare him down.

You can feel the gold creeping in, your alpha emerging.

You glance past his shoulder to the living room where the betas most likely wait, then back toward the spare room of Jeongin’s apartment.

Minho follows your gaze, and something predatory comes into his own.

“Oh?” You shrug a shoulder and take a step backward, toward the empty bedroom.

“I mean, they’ll expect us to be gone a bit longer-” Minho smirks dangerously, taking a step in your direction, and your pulse picks up, anticipating the game as the spicy scent of amber hits your nose.

“You’re absolutely right, sweetheart.” He purrs, taking another step as you take a step back to match, watching him warily.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, making your core clench pitifully. “And lucky for you, kitten, I’m in the mood to take my time.”

********************************************************************************

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lucienarcheron · 9 days

Text

Spirit Meets the Bones - XIV

Genre: Angst/Romance Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. PLEASE NOTE:This chapter will contain physical abuse with some implied language may be found triggering.

as always, shoutout to my bby @abruisedmuse for being along this journey with me!

Find it all here.

The next morning came and rather than choking him as suggested, Iris had only burrowed into Eris’s body further. He had woken up this morning and laid perfectly still as the heat of her seeped into him, relaxing him in a way he hadn’t been relaxed before.

He hoped the wild beating of his heart didn’t wake her and when she finally did wake, the two had only stared at each other quietly. Until she gave him a small smile and slipped out of bed. No matter that the smile had caused an eruption of flames all over his body.

The flames hadn’t quite simmered down just yet.

“Distracted this morning, aren’t you?”

Eris blinked, returning to the present, and met his mother’s knowing gaze. He scowled, shifting in the seat opposite his mother, steam rising from his cup of tea in front of him. “I’m just thinking about the meeting I have with Father later and the unwelcome visitor arriving.”

Lady Enya’s lips thinned. “Is that why Iris isn’t with you this morning?”

“She’s nervous about her father’s visit and wanted some time to herself.” he said with a twist of his mouth. “But we’ll stop by when we return from visiting Lucien and Elain.”

“Her father won’t be a problem, will he?” Lady Enya asked with a frown, sliding a plate of breakfast pastries toward him. “Cauldron only knows the horrible things I’ve heard about him.”

“For his own livelihood, he better not be a problem.” Eris said with a scoff and sat back in his chair, crossing his legs and waving a hand for his daily reports to appear. “I have no qualms about ending his life.”

“Your father wouldn’t like that.” Enya said with a pointed look over her cup of tea.

“Good.”

His mother chuckled and the two shared a small smile. A few moments of comfortable silence filled the space until Eris felt his mother’s gaze on him and slowly lifted his head, with a quirked brow.

“Is something wrong, mother?”

“Not at all.” she replied, and Eris sat back. “But I am curious.”

“About?” he hedged carefully, and his mother rolled her eyes at his suspicious tone.

Waving a delicate hand in his general direction, she took a sip of her tea then said, “Are you trying a new look?”

He blinked at his mother then squinted. “What?”

“The scruff.” she said with a twitch of her lips.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

Eris tried to ignore the heat rising to his face and cleared his throat. He debated for a moment whether to say something or keep it to himself, but he could feel his mother’s knowing look without even glancing at her. “Iris likes it.” he murmured quietly, quickly taking a sip of his tea and desperately trying to ignore his mother’s grin.

“Does she now?” she asked with an arched brow. “I don’t think you’ve ever considered facial hair before.”

Eris hadn’t actually ever given scruff a chance. He stayed clean-shaven so his father wouldn’t harass him about it but…

He shrugged with as much of a nonchalant air as he could. “I’m trying something new. For myself.”

It had nothing to do with his wife, of course.

Lady Enya took a sip of her own tea, shooting him an incredulous look. “I see.”

Eris waited for a heartbeat, then put the reports down, debating once more whether he should say something else. His mother watched him patiently, so he pursed his lips then casually added, “I’m also considering cutting my hair.”

His mother blinked. “Your hair.”

“My hair, yes.”

“How short are you thinking?”

Eris shrugged again and vaguely waved his hand to the back of his head. “Something just above the shoulders. Maybe. Possibly. I’m unsure.”

“That’s...a big change.” Lady Enya remarked, her lips twitching. “I can’t remember the last time you even got a trim.”

“I get a trim every six months, mother. I am not an uncivilized swine.”

Lady Enya chuckled, then slowly placing her cup of tea on the table, she gave him a sly look. “And would this sudden interest in shortening your hair also be something a certain someone will like?”

Eris willed his skin not to redden further. “No.” he said defensively.

His mother gave him that knowing look of hers.

Eris twisted his mouth and then sighed. “Yes.”

“Ah. I see.” Lady Enya said and Eris scowled at the smirk she wore on her face.

“It’s not that big of a deal.” he mumbled and pulled his reports up once more, using it to shield half his face. “Minor changes. Send a few admirers into a potential cardiac arrest.”

His mother hummed and Eris squinted at her as he lowered the pages again, his scowl deepening.

“Admirers, you say?” she said, her lips twitching. “Funny how you pretend this is about anyone else but your wife.”

“Mother.”

She smiled. “Yes?”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

Lady Enya laughed at that. “Eris. You know I think it’s delightful your wife brings out these kinds of reactions from you.” she said and gave him a pointed look. “It’s good.”

Eris’s mouth twisted again, and he waited for another heartbeat before quietly saying, “Do you think if I cut my hair...I’ll look more like him?”

His mother paused and her expression hardened. “The only thing you share with him is your bloodline. Everything about your face is from me. Your eye shape is mine. Your nose is mine. That mouth of yours is mine. Even your hair is from me.” she said, and Eris’s lips twitched slightly at the fierce protectiveness in her tone. “He will claim you as his son, but you are my son first and foremost. My son who looks like me.”

“My mother’s son through and through, aren’t I.” he said with a soft chuckle.

“Damn right, you are.” Lady Enya said with a huff. “If you decide you want to change your hair, I’m sure you’ll look very handsome. I have no doubt your wife would agree.”

His wife. His wife whom he had finally — fucken finally held in his arms at night.

Eris had nearly blacked out when she had asked to move the pillow. As if he’d say no.

He’d only wanted her in his arms for weeks now and Eris would be damned to rush the very delicate process between them.

But she had asked him. She asked him. And that had made Eris’s battered heart beat wildly at the notion that she now trusted him enough to do it.

Having her sleep in his arms, the feeling of her body flush against his had been as invigorating as he had imagined. She had curled into him, her arm had wrapped around him. And when he had tangled their legs together, she hadn’t hesitated to come closer.

Eris swallowed, nearly losing his mind all over again just thinking about it. He had almost lost his mind when he woke up this morning and found her still in his arms — that it all hadn’t been some wild hallucination of his. He frowned.

This feeling couldn’t be normal. These... severe reactions he kept having. He had been with more than enough people in his lifetime that surely having one female sleep in his arms shouldn’t do this to him.

Whatever this was. Even if this was different from anything he’d ever experienced.

All Eris knew was that he was excited to spend time with her and to have her meet the other important people in his life. He was also looking forward to seeing her face when they returned from their trip to find the gift he had prepared for her. His wife. His.

“Are you alright?” his mother asked him, alarmed and Eris blinked at her.

“What?”

“Your face is as red as your hair.”

Eris’s face heated further and he cleared his throat, pausing for a breath before very, very quietly mumbling, “We had a moment last night.”

Lady Enya blinked then her face erupted into a grin that instantly had Eris tensing. “Did you?”

Eris held up a hand and gave his mother a pointed look. “Say nothing else, mother. We had a moment. It was nice and that is all.”

His mother only chuckled and gave him a pointed look in return. “I doubt that is all.”

Eris pursed his lips and tried not to die as he attempted to describe how he felt to his mother. His grip tightened on the reports. “Clearly,” he began, then cleared his throat again before he continued very softly, “I...like her.”

His mother snorted softly and gave him a sly look. “Like her, hm?” she teased and Eris clenched his jaw, willing himself not to flush further. “That’s a relief, I suppose. Considering you spend every waking moment with her.”

“She’s my wife. And my friend.” he mumbled and tried to avoid looking at his mother’s smile. “I like spending time with her.”

“You would. Her mouth is as filthy as yours.” Lady Enya said with a laugh. “She swears at you so viciously it gives me whiplash.”

Eris’s lips twitched, his eyes still on the reports. “Don’t tell her you’ve heard her swear. She wants you to think she’s a proper lady and likes impressing you.”

“Oh trust me, I’m very impressed.” his mother said and tapped the table gently so he’d meet her softened gaze. Eris lowered his paper shields and his mother didn’t hesitate to softly pat his hand. “You seem more settled around her. I’m happy to see it.”

Eris tensed for a moment then slowly let his shoulders relax. His mother was right, of course. As much of a riot as Iris was, she...seemed to soothe something in him. His mother already knew, there was no sense in pretending otherwise.

“I enjoy her company.” he said quietly and gave his mother a small smile that she gently returned.

“Well. I can’t say I didn’t see it coming.” she said with a smug look and Eris chuckled.

“You always seem to know everything, Mother. One would think you were the Seer and not Elain.” he said with a snort and his mother laughed.

“I can definitely see how your wife might react to shorter hair.” she teased and he rolled his eyes.

“I’d like to think she’ll tolerate me just the same if I didn’t.” he said and his mother’s sly smile had him immediately scowling.

“I’d say she already does more than just tolerate you.” Enya teased again. “But a little change is never a bad idea if you’d like to do it.”

“According to her, it’s the only way I’ll be more dashing than Lucien.” he scoffed and Lady Enya blinked then let out such a hearty laugh that Eris couldn’t help but chuckle along. “Laugh all you want, those were her exact words.”

“She doesn’t even know Lucien, does she?” she said, wiping at her eyes and Eris snorted.

“Apparently, your harlot son’s reputation precedes him.”

Lady Enya rolled her eyes. "Unfortunately, I've been made aware that you both share a similar reputation."

Eris held out his hands in mock innocence. “I am a married male, Mother. I have no idea what you could possibly be referring to.”

“Tell that to the horde of jilted lovers that used to sob at every ball.” his mother said with a snort and Eris fought back a smirk.

“I have only one female to worry about now.” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting. “The verdict isn’t out on whether she can stand me yet or not.”

His mother gave him a sly look. “Well, based on my observations, I’d say she can stand you just fine.”

“Is that so?”

“A mother knows best.” she said with a wink and Eris chuckled, his eyes back on the reports.

“We shall see.” he said quietly and tried not to let the hope of what was to come take root in his chest, lest it unfurl and break him. Straightening, his expression sobered as he gazed at his mother. “I need to ask you something.”

“Ah daughter, how I’ve missed that look of hatred in your eyes. I never could quite beat it out of you.”

Iris stood rooted in her doorway, desperately trying not to grimace at the smirk plastered on the face of her father, Lord Aron Bertillon. Her heart sputtered in her chest at his wretched face and continued to beat wildly as he pushed past her with a scoff and stepped into her chambers.

She had been free of him for weeks and the moment her eyes fell on him, Iris was paralyzed by him all over again.

Did she shut the door or keep it open? Shut the door or keep it open — Shut the door or keep it open —

“I suggest you shut the door. You know I like my privacy.”

Iris took a breath as a tense beat of silence passed and then turned slightly towards him. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

Her father tsked and turned to smile at her fully. “I am exactly where I want to be.” he said. “Close the door and come over here so I can see you properly.”

Her lips curled in distaste as she watched him survey the room and Iris slowly, reluctantly, closed the door then turned fully towards him.

The silence between them stretched as her father continued to peruse the room, his eyes falling on the neatly made bed and narrowing. Her cheeks flushed.

Finally turning to land his gaze on her, Lord Aron rolled his eyes. “When will you learn that looking at me like that won’t ever help you? I said come here.”

Iris barely inched a step closer. She knew the closer she got, the quicker he’d be. She shifted herself towards the dining table instead. “You never did anything to earn any other kind of look so I don’t know why you’re still surprised.” she muttered.

Her father tutted again, cruel amusement on his face, watching her steps. “Does your husband allow you to look at him like that? I’m surprised you’re still standing if so.”

“Leave my husband out of this.” she snapped before she could help herself and regretted it the moment her father’s brow raised in amusement. He didn’t need to know that Eris mattered to her. That he was important — especially when her father had a tendency to take away anything she cared about.

“Such a faithful whore already? I suppose it makes sense.” he said with a sigh full of scorn as he surveyed her living chambers again. “Good thing you didn’t sully yourself with the riff-raff then...I did hear that Eris likes his virgins.”

Iris grimaced and stopped a good ten feet away from him, her hands fisted at her sides.

He wasn’t supposed to be in here. She was supposed to have met him in an open guest room, where they would be in front of others. Where she would have witnesses. When Eris would be there. But knowing her father, this was exactly how he wanted it.

Knowing her father-in-law, he had allowed it.

“Aren’t you going to invite me to take a seat at your table, daughter? Being the high lord’s daughter-in-law doesn’t excuse you from having manners.” her father sneered softly and Iris’s skin prickled as she glanced at him.

She hated him. She hated him with a fire that would’ve melted the entirety of the Winter Court.

Iris had pictured herself murdering him countless times. She had visualized it happening in so many different ways.

But then he stood in front of her, staring at her with such loathing, and Iris couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t stop the rapid beating of her heart that she knew fueled his glee. Couldn’t stop the way her body locked up around him.

“I prefer we meet outside of my chambers. Eris doesn’t allow anyone in here.” she said simply and her gaze drifted to the bedroom door because Eris should be here. He promised he would be.

“I’m not just anyone.” her father said sweetly and walked a step closer. “I am your father. Surely your husband wouldn’t have any concerns with me being here.”

But he could tell exactly how much Iris despised having him stand in this space, his image tarnishing whatever sanctuary this home had become for her. She clenched her fists tighter.

“He would. And so do I.” Iris replied curtly and gestured towards the door. “I have a space set up for us that we should —”

“I will stay right here, you stupid bitch.” her father snapped and Iris flinched, closing her eyes with a deep breath. She counted to five then opened her eyes to glare at him.

“Don’t speak to me that way.”

“Oh?” he said and took another step closer. “And what will you do about it, daughter?”

The dagger resting on the table a few feet away seemed to glow as if a reminder that she had a weapon close enough. Eris had trained her enough that she could somewhat hold her own but...what would she do against the male standing before her? The male that made her gut twist and bile rise in her throat. The male that made her hate all males.

Eris was starting to become the exception and that thought twisted her gut as well, but in a good way. At least...if he came. If he realized something was wrong and as promised, showed up. Iris straightened, wondering if something had happened to him.

Her stomach dropped and she flexed her fingers. How would he know to come here? Did her father have something to do with it? Did his?

She glanced at the door once more and her father noted the movement, letting out a chuckle.

“Did you think,” he said and took another step towards her. “That because you’re his wife now, I won’t have a say over you? Don’t worry, he won’t be joining us. It’ll be just us, daughter.”

Her heart stuttered at his declaration. How much sway did he have with the High Lord now that he could block Eris from returning to his own room? He wasn’t here even though he had promised. And...Eris had yet to back out on a promise he made her, especially one like this. Especially after last night.

But it didn’t matter. Iris would have to hold her own, just like she always did. She always had been able to deal with her father, even when it hurt. Even as her skin prickled at the thought. Iris’s lips curled in disdain as she shot her father another look of contempt.

“You talk too much, father. Why are you here?”

He chuckled darkly and Iris felt the gooseflesh erupt on her already clammy skin. She warily kept her gaze on his fists.

“I’m here to check on my daughter. To make sure you’re behaving.” he said quietly and came to a stop right in front of her. “Considering you have been declining my requests to see you, I had to take matters into my own hands. Do you not want to see me?”

Iris’s fingers tightened into the folds of her dress as she held his gaze. “I’ve had nothing to say to you.”

It went silent between them as her father stared her down and Iris refused to look away.

“But I’ve had a few things to say to you.” he said quietly and before Iris could blink, his hand had wrapped around her throat and he yanked her closer to him. Iris’s treacherous body froze beneath his hands. “I heard about your loud-mouthing a while ago. I did not appreciate having the High Lord tell me I didn’t know how to raise you well enough to know when to keep your mouth shut.”

Iris sucked in a breath as her father’s grip tightened. “Nothing happened. I apologized.” she said tightly.

Her father quirked a brow. “You apologized?”

“Yes.” she breathed and he narrowed his eyes briefly as his grip tightened further and Iris let out a strangled breath.

“Mm. See, you should’ve kept your mouth shut from the beginning.” he snapped, shoving her back carelessly, and she stumbled away from him. “I will cut your tongue out myself if you do anything else you’re not supposed to. You will not jeopardize my relationship with the High Lord with your stupidity.”

Iris’s hand rubbed at her throat as she glared at her father, her other hand tightening in the folds of her dress, desperately trying to keep her hands away from reaching for the dagger. “I don’t interact with the high lord often for anything else to happen between us so rest assured, I won’t have any sway over your relationship with him.” she replied with a bite in tone.

“Yes, but his son needs to be kept happy.” he said and narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you keeping his son happy?”

Iris tensed and the corner of her father’s mouth lifted as she answered, “His son is fine.”

A beat of silence passed as her father’s gaze pierced her. “Judging by the scent in this room, I’d say not.” Iris flushed and her father’s eyes narrowed further. “I hope he’s not put off by you.”

“That’s none of your business.” she hissed.

“Everything you do is my business, you stupid girl.” he snapped and her fists tightened. “Your obedience is an important factor in keeping my working relationship with our High Lord. I’ve gotten away with so much since this lovely union,” he said, his eyes surveying the room once more. “Or did you think I married you off so you could just enjoy yourself?”

Whatever business her father did, Iris wasn’t privy to it and she never cared to know. All she knew was that he was ruthless in getting what he wanted, in whatever way he could. Be it cheating, stealing, or killing. He was a business tycoon but what kind of business? She didn’t want to know. He was a liar, a thief, and most importantly, he loved his money in whatever way he could get it. As long as it kept him away from her — until now.

She glared. “You mean when you sold me to him?”

The corner of his mouth lifted again and Iris grimaced. “I wanted to offer you to the high lord himself but a marriage to his son was more advantageous.”

Silence filled her mind as she processed her father’s words. He would’ve offered her up just like that to a monster who would’ve —

“You’re disgusting.” she breathed. “He has a wife. He’s triple my age.”

“And he has a preference. I don’t care what he would’ve done with you as long as I reaped the benefits from it.” he snapped then scoffed at her expression. “The point is to tie myself to the High Lord’s family and being the son’s wife is certainly better than being his father’s whore. What is the point of having a daughter if I can’t use you the way I want?”

“You’re disgusting.” she repeated and her father rolled his eyes.

“Yes, yes.” he said with a wave of his hand, dismissing her as he always did. “And yet look at you, married to his handsome son instead. Living in the Forest House with anything you want at your fingertips. You’re welcome.”

Her fists shook at her sides and Iris tried to keep her voice even as she spoke, “The only reason you allowed it is because you think Eris would be worse than you.”

“Isn’t he?” he said then snorted, lifting a hand and Iris barely had a second to grit her teeth as he harshly patted her cheek. “Knowing you, daughter, you certainly deserve whatever comes your way. You’re too proud. Too stubborn. If I can’t beat it out of you, someone else should.”

“Well, you got what you wanted.” she spat and tried to step back from him, backing towards the table. “Why can’t you leave me be now?”

“Leave you be?” he said with the sneer she knew too well. The sneer that always had her on edge. “Why would I do that?”

Iris glared at him again but faster than she could open her mouth to say anything else, her father’s hand was already gripping tightly in her hair, yanking her head back, pulling her closer to him.

“Do you know why I won’t leave you alone? Because I know you’ll embarrass me again. You simply don’t know how to behave.” he muttered and his grip tightened enough to make her gasp. “All I have ever wanted you to do was to keep your mouth shut and do as you are told. Is it so difficult?”

“Get your filthy hands off me.” she snarled and Aron’s lips curled in disdain.

“See? You’re still saying the wrong things.” he said, tugging her head closer. “Do you speak like this to the prince? Are you loud-mouthing him too? I already told him to use a heavy hand with you but it seems it’s not heavy enough.” he breathed and Iris’s jaw clenched, even as tears prickled her eyes. “You better be behaving well enough so that he keeps you. Are you behaving?”

“I’m behaving!” Iris hissed, her hands clawing at his to release her. With a growl of disgust, her father shoved her away again and Iris’s hand flew into her hair, her scalp already tender from his yanking.

“You better be. I will beat you into a pulp if I get one more complaint about you.” Aron snapped and Iris glared at him, hating herself for the tears she blinked back. She took in a shaky breath watching him as he watched her. The father that was no father. The father who only thought of himself. The father who didn’t even think of her as a person. “You are either his wife or you are dead.”

It did not surprise her for a moment that after several weeks of not seeing each other, this was how he behaved.

Mustering whatever little dignity she had left in front of him, Iris ran her hands through her hair, trying to smooth it down. “You gave me your lovely warning,” she said tightly, “You can leave now.”

But her father smiled at her and Iris felt her heart drop.

“But I missed you, daughter. It’s been too long without you near.” her father cooed softly and Iris blanched. “No one bruises quite as beautifully as you do.” And the cruel smile returned to his face as he watched her eyes widen. “Does your husband love the way you bruise as well? I’m sure he takes his time with you.”

Iris’s jaw tightened and she could barely get the words out, fisting her shaky hands. “Leave him out of this.”

“Look at you defending your husband so immediately...you must like it when he bruises you.” her father mused with a smile. “You didn’t seem to like it when I beat you.”

“Stop it.”

“Maybe I just need to beat you in this lovely location for you to enjoy it. Is that what it is?” he said with a chuckle and Iris felt herself pale. “Or is it because he’s a handsome prince, his hands don’t hurt like mine do?”

“Don’t touch me.” she breathed and her father’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do with you, daughter.” he said quietly. “Come here.”

“No.” she snarled.

“I said, come here.” he snapped, pointing directly in front of him. “Because if I have to come to you, it’ll hurt more. You’ve already tested my patience enough today.”

But Iris held her ground. Her father had been here for a short amount of time and she was already so tired of him. She wanted him gone and away from her. She wanted to pretend he never came and go about her day like this never happened, like she never saw him.

Lord Aron took one step towards her and her hand finally wrapped around the hilt of her dagger resting on the table. Her father’s eyes widened in surprise for only a fraction then his gaze narrowed.

“Oh. This is adorable of you.” he said quietly. “Will you finally gut me the way you’ve always wanted to?”

“I will if you come near me.” she breathed. “Enough. You need to leave now.”

Iris watched him, her chest rising and falling as she tried to swallow, tried to form words. Tried to figure out what to say to this hateful male who sapped any will to live from her. Who instilled fear and self-loathing in her like no other.

Her fingers tightened around her dagger, even as it shook with rage. She wanted to bury it in his chest and watch him bleed out. She wanted —

“You stupid, stupid girl. You never learn.” her father said softly and Iris couldn’t take her eyes off his hateful gaze as he advanced towards her. “A simple request and you can’t even follow through. All this tells me is that you haven’t changed at all. You haven’t learned to behave yet and we...we have to change that. I won’t let you embarrass me in front of the High Lord and his son.”

Iris swallowed and with a glare, spat, “It doesn’t have to be like this. You don’t have to be like this.”

Her father quirked a brow and tilted his head. “Yes, it does. You just seem too dim to realize it.”

And before Iris could snarl at the words, his hand flew out, backhanding her swiftly and she stumbled back a step with a gasp. She whipped her head to look at him but Lord Aron only yanked her by the hand holding her knife and tightened his grip hard enough that Iris winced.

“Drop the knife.” he growled.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?”

“You deserved it. You talk too much and have too much nerve.” he spat. “Now drop the knife or I will strike you again.”

Iris felt her treacherous lip tremble. Where was Eris? He promised. He promised.

If anything, she needed him to see. So he could understand why she was the way she was. Why she still looked at his fists and why she needed him around her father. She didn’t want to keep facing him alone.

And Eris had promised.

With an impatient growl, Aron bent her hand back, tightening his hold painfully enough that it forced her to drop her dagger. Iris flinched as he released her hand and then backhanded her again with a force that knocked her back into the table hard enough that she knew it would bruise. Her hand flew to her cheek as the sting of the blow hit her — the ring on his hand had cut her lip.

“Stop.”

Her father snarled and his hand flew out once more, this time wrapping around her throat tight enough that Iris choked. She clawed at his hands, trying to stop the panic going through her body because Eris had taught her better — he taught her how to shove it aside and move.

“Now that your silly knife is out of the way, we can continue discussing how everything you do will play into everything I do.” he muttered and smiled, a tight breath escaping her lips as his grip tightened around her throat again. “A few bruises here and there. You can heal them before your husband returns, of course. You know I like a blank canvas.”

Eris.

“No.” she snarled softly and thrashed, landing a kick in his shin that had him hissing. “You don’t get to come here and do this to me anymore. Let me be. Leave me alone.”

“But then who will receive my gifts, daughter? They’ve always been meant for you.” her father cooed softly. “Who else could take it?”

“Why do you keep doing this?” she whispered desperately. “What have I ever done to deserve this?”

“Because you exist. And because I can.” he snapped. “And so you remember that next time I want to come see you, you don’t get to say no.”

With another snarl, she swung at her father and it forced him to let her go. Iris stumbled away from him, landing on the floor behind him instead. She scrambled back and watched as his anger flared through him, seeing how his temper was about to be unleashed on her. She knew the moment he said he was visiting, it would be for nothing else than to do this — to remind her that she was still nothing. She was still no one important enough to stop him from taking out every frustration he had on her.

Where are you, Eris?

She wanted to scream. He was supposed to be here. In her corner. He promised. A few weeks away from her father and Iris still crumbled at the sight of him like this, like a wild animal being hunted. She needed to get off the floor and away from him — she needed to stand but her legs were trembling so badly.

“Did you know, daughter, that the High Lord has special ways to put people in their place?” he spoke softly, and Iris’s fists clenched to stop the shaking. “I think...I will take some pointers from him. Try some things with you to remind you to keep that mouth of yours shut more often. What do you think?”

“I think you’re insane and need to stay away from me.” she snarled, her chest rising and falling in a rapid panic. She needed to move. Get to the door. Once it was open he couldn’t do anything. “I’m not your problem anymore. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I did.” he mused, almost rabid, and took another step towards her as she backed away. “But once you were away from me...I realized in your absence how much I enjoyed controlling you.” He stopped in front of her and slowly crouched, his smile putting her body in a tingling panic. “Do you think if you have a daughter, she’d bruise as beautifully as you do?”

Before he could raise a hand again, their bedroom door flew open and both Iris and her father’s heads snapped to the door.

Eris stood in the doorway, breathing hard and a sense of relief washed over Iris so deeply, she almost sobbed. A fire was blazing in his eyes and almost instantly, the room’s temperature heated.

“Eris.” she choked out and his eyes snapped to her. He silently took in the bruises on her cheeks and handprints on her neck, her ruined hair, the rumpled dress, and her body on the floor with her father crouching over her. His gaze slid over her, assessing, and then landed on the dagger several feet away.

Lord Aron straightened and Eris’s eyes flickered to him.

“Son-in-law. I’m glad you’ve finally arrived.” her father had the nerve to say. “My daughter was, unfortunately, speaking ill of you, which I couldn’t allow, of course. I needed to remind her to mind her tongue.”

“You’re lying!” Iris barked and flinched back as her father glared at her but turned to look at Eris. “He’s lying.”

Eris said nothing but Iris saw his eyes flash then narrow as he took one look at her father and then ignored him completely. Slowly, he stepped into the room and quietly shut the door. Iris watched him as he walked over to her and very calmly lowered himself to face her. Her heart thundered in her chest as he reached out a hand and she flinched back when he tried to touch her cheek. His gaze hardened as her bottom lip trembled slightly and Iris tried not to let him see the embarrassment burning through her, tried not to let him see anything other than her seething anger.

But he seemed to know.

Eris locked eyes with her for a moment, his gaze softening for just a fraction and then with the grace of a predator, Eris turned to look at her father with murderous intent in his eyes.

“I’m going to kill you.”

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #eris x oc #eris vanserra fanfic #acotar fanfiction #smtb chapters #gfics #if you'd like to be tagged or removed (no hard feelings!) please let me know!!!#thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!#let's hope the tags work lmao

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writingquestionsanswered · 3 months

Note

Should I tag for unreliable narrators on AO3?

What I mean is, is it more than just a storytelling device? I don't want to tag because it feels like a massive spoiler, but I don't want to accidentally upset anyone if it's likely to be a trigger or squick.

Fan-Fiction: Tagging Unreliable Narrator

Unreliable narrators are a storytelling device, so in and of itself, there is no reason it should be a trigger or squick any more than dual POV, flashbacks, or breaking the fourth wall.

However, if you're concerned that your unreliable narrator might be triggering or squicky, I would look less at the device itself and more at what situation the unreliable narrator is narrating. Because if that subject matter is triggering or squicky, you do need to tag for that, even if it's a spoiler.

I hope that helps!

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davosmymaster · 2 years

Text

Triggers

A/N - This should also be warning: this fic is purely self-indulgent. I’ve written some of my own personal experiences in it as both a plus-size person and what people call “a late bloomer”. I try to give as little (and general) physical descriptions as I can for the reader, so you can read it however you like and this is not specifically a plus size!reader or anything. I think many people will identify with the reader in this, but if you think it can bother you please do not read. There are no talks of body image or eating (as you can check in the warnings). I had to give names to some original characters, though, because I don’t personally like the (yourfriend’sname) thingy.

Basically, I just had this idea and had to write it. Here it is. Hope you enjoy. (If you see a typo or something doesn’t make sense, remember English is not my first language no you didn’t)

TAGS AND WARNINGS - +18, Minors DNI, oral sex, p in v, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, safewords (mentioned), dom/sub dynamics (kind of), spit kink, cunnilingus, light bdsm (i think), hurt/comfort, bullying (mentioned), fighting with friends.

PAIRINGS - Jake Lockley x fem!reader

WORD COUNT - 6.4k

SUMMARY - At the wedding of one of your high school best friends, you're asked about your singleness. You snap back, revealing some painful truths. Six months later, Jake Lockley disagrees with every word you said, and makes a personal commitment to let you know how wrong you are, every day, for as long as he breathes.

TRIGGERS

One of your friends is getting married.

You're happy for them, really, you are. They are a lovely couple. She's very much in love with him, and it's obvious by the way that he's looking at her when he says "I do" that he loves her just as much. They've been dating for five years now, and engaged for two of them.

So why do you feel that constant ache in your chest?

Your invitation said to bring a plus one, but you don't have a partner and all your closest friends, both men and women, were already invited to the wedding. They have all brought a companion, either their significant other —most of them— or someone they are already dating but not quite. You can't help but frown at that last group, you are not sure you could cope with the instability of not knowing if you can make plans for the future with the person you love in case they decide to leave you tomorrow. No strings attached because, hey, you two were nothing.

But you're no one to judge, not like you're doing it either way. And even if you did, they'd probably laugh it off because you've never dated anyone, and it'd be just a further embarrassment for your persona.

In the end, you're the only one who's actually single at the celebration. You had hoped the groom brought some single friends of his. Not like you wanted to flirt with them, it was more a matter of not feeling like a weirdo; but the closest to being single you can find there is a man in his late twenties who's already filling up divorce papers, according to your friends. And that fact only makes you feel worse about yourself. He didn't come alone either, after all.

There's one friend of yours, her name is Ava. She broke up with her boyfriend of four years like two months ago; so you sort of expected her to be in your very same situation. It wasn't a clean breakup. But she also came with someone and your eyebrows shoot up to the sky when you see her new girlfriend.

"Who is that?" you ask another of your high school friends.

"I think her name is Lottie," Olivia replies. "They're not official yet, though. But they've been seeing each other and she looks quite happy."

You hum in response, wondering how on Earth people move on so quickly; especially after a four-year hiatus from the dating world.

"I'm going to the bathroom," she announces, gently stroking her fiancé's arm before leaving the table. Her high heels dig circles on the green grass as she walks. The sun is unusually bright for a spring day in Surrey, and you hope your foundation doesn't melt before the pictures are taken. "Wanna come?" she asks.

You nod and follow her inside.

The first thing she does once she gets in is checking no one's inside. You had already thought that maybe she wanted to talk somewhere private. After all, you've known her for many years now and she's one of your best friends. You lock the door.

"I just think it's impressive how quickly she moved on, to be honest," you say, because you can sense that's exactly what she intended to talk about. "Of course, I'm happy for her-"

"What else did you expect her to do? Cry for two months?" she chuckles, although her tone is not necessarily friendly. She checks her makeup in the mirror and reapplies some of it. Yours is intact, and thank lord it is because you didn't even bring a lipstick. "You know, people don't usually waste time."

You look at yourself in the mirror, wondering for a second if you heard correctly.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She sighs audibly and puts her lipstick in her purse. Now she takes some compact powder and gently presses it into her skin. You might ask for it later. Not if the conversation goes in the direction you think it's going.

"I'm just saying that, well- it's time to start your dating life, don't you think?" she says. "I mean, I don't want to be rude, and we've talked about this before. But we're not teenagers anymore, and you've never had half the experiences most of us had in our teenage years."

Her words throw you off balance. She's maybe partially right, and she's touching on a subject that you're too sensitive about. She did say she didn't want to be rude, though. And she's been your friend for a while now, so you don't want to get upset right away.

"I've had no luck," you say, leaning back on the sink and crossing your arms, not without making sure it is dry first.

"See, that's where you're wrong," she says, pointing at you with an accusatory finger. "You're waiting for your knight in shining armour, just waiting. You don't flirt with guys, don't go to pubs-"

"I do go to pubs, sometimes."

She raises an eyebrow.

"Once in a blue moon," she says, and you shrug your shoulders. It's not like you're the kind of person to go to pubs every weekend, but you wouldn't say you go 'once in a blue moon', you just have other hobbies than spending every single Saturday and Sunday of your life being hangover, but you do like partying. Plus, it's not like the guys who go there are waiting to put a ring on your finger. "What I'm saying is- you can't expect Mr Right to just appear out of nowhere, and obviously you can't have extremely high standards-"

"So I should settle with the first person that comes my way. Is that what you're saying?"

She chuckles under her breath, obviously annoyed.

"I'm not saying that, but maybe you should not tell them to fuck off when said guy tries to hang out with you."

You know exactly what she's talking about, and your blood boils. Not long ago she gave your number to one of her fiancè's friends. So it did take you by surprise when this man you didn't know sent you a text. He was nice at the beginning, which was the first two days that he texted you non-stop. He got upset for late-replying even when you told him you were busy, working, which was not a lie. Then he texted you at midnight, asking if you wanted to attend some party, and when you refused because of how late it was, he said.

"What are you? Cinderella? You have to be home at twelve?"

He obviously just wanted you for one thing. There's no decent man who asks for a first date at midnight, and even if you wanted to keep it casual, you wouldn't have accepted just because of the way he spoke to you.

"Did you even listen when I told you what he did?" you ask her.

"Yes, and I don't see why you didn't go, honestly," she answers. "You could have had a good time, danced a bit and talked to him. Get to know each other."

"At midnight, half-drunk."

"Yes," she almost shouts. "He could've had different intentions, but you'll never know- No, let me talk," she says, once you try to interrupt. So you reluctantly let her speak. "You can't reject everyone from the start, because no one is up to your standards, and then cry because you've never had a relationship before. Even in high school we were all flirting with guys while you stayed in the corner. Don't you think it's time to grow up?"

By the time she's done, your jaw is hanging from your face. Half of you expected something along the lines of what she just said, but you didn't think Olivia could be that cruel; especially when she knows how much it hurts you to talk about this.

"Are you done?"

"I guess," she responds, putting away all her makeup.

You bite your lower lip first, trying to regain your breath as you find yourself suddenly running out of air.

"You've never thought for a single second that all the people you guys flirted with in high school, were the same people who bullied me?"

She snorts, annoyed, and whispers. "Oh, you're gonna start with that."

"Yes, I am, actually," you respond. Your teeth are so clenched that your jaw is starting to hurt. "Because while you were out there succeeding with your love life, having any guy you wanted, Ava's first boyfriend was rating me minus five in the rank of the prettiest girls at school.

"I was always the fat friend, or the flat one. Sometimes both. Guys, even now, only get my number to ask me for your number. And in the rare occasions when guys don't completely ignore my presence while talking to you, or Ava, or any of the rest, I find out that they were only hitting on me because they thought I was the best they could hope for. And I used to fall for that, but not anymore. I've never been called pretty, or any other nice words. No one has ever bought me a shot. So stop, stop talking as if finding a semi-decent human being is just so fucking easy."

Olivia just holds your gaze, but you can tell she doesn't believe one word of what you're saying.

"That's your problem," she says. "You always victimize yourself, so much. And that's just bullshit. Worst of all is you believe you're doing the right thing. I really do feel for you."

That's enough to plant a seed of doubt in your mind. But that happens later, once you're alone in your flat, back in London. At that exact moment, you don't think of anything as you just stand there, tears pricking in your eyes as she takes her purse, unlocks the door and leaves you there, completely alone.

Luckily —or not— it's not the first time you've had this conversation with one of your friends, so you already know she's the one who's wrong. And there's nothing you need to change about yourself or the way you act. And thank God you don't, because barely two weeks later, you meet Jake Lockley for the first time. And it doesn’t take you long to meet his alters, either, and fall for every single one of them, the same way they do for you.

Needless to say, you don't talk to your friend anymore. Not at the wedding, and certainly not after.

Six months later

You're bent over the kitchen table. Air has been knocked out of your lungs with the impact, and you're unable to regain it back as an open palm between your shoulder blades keeps you firmly pressed against the wooden board. You gasp like a fish out of water, and thank whatever gods out there that the man above you seems not to be too concerned about how ridiculous you look in that position.

As a rule of thumb, your boyfriend Jake hates quickies. If someone were to ask him on the street what bothers him the most in this world, you're ninety-nine per cent sure he would respond 'quickies', with the most straight face anyone has ever seen on this earth. Not the London traffic, not even how hard it is to find a parking spot for his thirty feet long limousine in the city. No, what bothers him most is not having enough time to fuck you; and the worst of all is that he doesn't mince words. If someone asked him, that's his honest answer.

That's one of the things that you both fear the most and find the most admirable about Jake Lockley. He has no shame, not one single drop of it in his whole body. He does not care a single fuck what anyone has to say about him. And you'd be lying if you said you didn't envy him for that.

"Uhm..." he lets out a low groan from the depths of his chest.

His other hand, the one that is not holding you in place, travels down your right leg. The pads of his fingers brush your skin gently, an almost ghostly touch as he makes his way back from the back of your knee, up to your thigh until he reaches the tender skin of your glute. All the muscles of your body tighten as you wait for a spank that never comes. Instead, Jake chuckles behind you. He relieves the pressure on your back as he uses both his hands to lift your dress, the fabric now all rolled up around your hips.

"Oh, look at you," you hear him say.

Not a single second later you feel the denim of his jeans over your cotton panties, his erection impossibly hard behind it, and you can't help but bite your lip and moan as he grinds himself against you. The pleasure blooming down there forces you to press your hips against him too, and you soon find yourself on your tiptoes.

"Jake..." you groan. "We don't have much time, hun."

He lets out an annoyed grunt.

"Joder... (Fuck...)" he mumbles in Spanish. "I hate quickies."

"It's the third time you say that today."

He really does hate them. He doesn't see the point of fucking if by the time he's done you're not absolutely destroyed under him. He's that type of man; all or nothing is his motto. He doesn't know how to keep it easy. He likes the sight of round fat tears clinging to your wet lashes, even the salty flavour of them on his tongue when he kisses you. He loves to edge you, overstimulate you to the point of exhaustion and rage, until all you can see is red and he has to make you cum before you gather any strength and use it to kick him in the balls for not letting you cum sooner.

Sometimes it's the opposite, he works your body up, plays it like an instrument that he's proficient in, dragging so many orgasms out of you that you have to beg him to stop.

And then he laughs.

But he cannot do all of that now. In fact, sex wasn't even in the cards for today, having in mind that you had stayed the night before in his flat and you were still sore from that session. The trails of yellow and purple hickeys on your inner thighs are the only proof of his merciless, sinful actions.

All of that was true until he saw you all dressed up, ready to leave the flat to attend a theatre play that starts in forty-five minutes. At first, it had been even fun to watch how Jake's jaw dropped to the floor, how he kept looking and looming over you time and time again, his eyes slipping up and down your figure, taking in the black dress you were wearing. He had the look of a hungry hawk when he approached you, and you immediately knew what was about to happen.

The left side of your brain told you not to let him, that you'd be late for the play. But then he leant in to kiss you, mouth open and his heavy tongue against your own, and there was no amount of willpower that could have prevented the scene that was about to unfold.

Behind you, Jake kneels on the floor. He catches the hem of your panties between his teeth as he goes down. You only know it because you can feel his ragged, hot breath against your skin as he bites the fabric. Once it passes your hips, he lets them fall to the ground. Then he bites your cheek.

It doesn't hurt, but a little cry comes out of your throat nonetheless, and without even taking a glimpse of his face you can tell that he's amused; the biggest wicked grin on his face. People hardly ever see Jake smiling, but that's only because none of them have seen him during sex.

"Jake," your angry tone does not go unnoticed, and you're now supporting your weight on your elbows. "We paid a lot for those tickets, I refuse to be late."

He groans.

"Isn't there another show later?" he asks, but that doesn't stop him from massaging your glutes, his thumbs on both sides of your groin as he pulls the skin of your inner thighs aside to have a better look at your glistening folds. "...for god's sake."

You don't know if that last sentence is directed at you, or not.

Before you can ask he's licking your entrance, giving enthusiastic laps at your folds as he buries his face in your most intimate parts. His actions leave you breathless, fists tightly closed over the table as you hide your face between them, nails digging into the tender flesh of your palms. Your forehead rests against the wooden board, and you feel how you start to break a sweat. Desire and wet heat start to pool at your lower abdomen.

"I asked you a question," he says then, finally giving you a second to rest. But he's not a patient man, nor does he enjoy being interrupted while he's having a meal, so he continues licking long stripes along your inner thighs, delineating the yellow and purple bruises —the hickeys— he marked you with yesterday night. You know he's extremely proud of his work of art, because he stops and kisses every single one of them.

"No," you lie, because you know that he will have you there all night if you let him, if you give up on his desire of turning this quickie into something more. Although it doesn't look much like a quickie, to be honest. "There's no other showing, so please, Jake. Just fuck me."

"Shut up," he says, his heavy palm smacking your thigh and you can't help but jump. "You have such a big mouth. I'm trying to get you ready, you ungrateful brat."

And that's exactly what he does. He separates your lips with his thumbs and sticks his tongue in. You moan, louder this time, feeling the soft edges of his tongue inside of you, and you don't even try to contain any other sound that comes out of your mouth. His tongue gets in every few seconds, licking and lubricating everything in its path. Then licking long stripes, his tongue flat against your clit and rapidly moving to your entrance. Every part of you is now trembling, the shiver that takes hold of your body following his actions is violent, leaving you gasping for air as if you were dying.

If you needed any preparation —which, with all honesty, you probably did— that is not the case anymore. A mix of his saliva and your own juices is pouring down your thighs, so if you're not ready now, you doubt you will ever be.

"That's my girl," he says, his accent half-hidden half there. He checks his work with the pad of his fingers, barely touching you but enough to make you whine, desperately asking for something to fill you up because you're just so empty. And you need him to soothe that feeling. "Look at you, all nice and ready for my cock."

Despite that, he licks you one last time.

"Fuck-" you cry out loud at the contact. Annoyance is building up in your chest despite his praise. "I swear if I miss one single scene for your horniness-"

He spanks you then, at last. It's no surprise that he does. After all, it took him long enough with how mouthy you're being with him, but it still catches you off guard. His heavy hand hits your ass without a single warning, and you scream at the contact. This time it does hurt, but it soon fades into pleasure all over your body like a sweet aftertaste to a bitter treat.

Jake finally takes action. His hands curl around both your wrists and he spreads your arms on the table, so you have no support anymore. Next, he presses the back of your neck against the board, and it turns you on so much, being squeezed below him with such force, that you are gasping again, silently pleading for his cock.

"I should've shoved myself in that pretty throat of yours," he said. "Maybe then you'd be fucking quiet, for once."

And you say nothing back, because you know he's perfectly capable of keeping his word: cum in your throat, then leaving the rest of you untouched as a punishment. And you don't think you'd be able to handle that, go through almost three hours without any kind of relief until you get home.

"Nothing to say now, uh?"

With otherworldly swiftness, he sheds his jeans. You hear the loud click, the indistinct sound his belt makes when he unbuckles it and gets rid of it. Then the sound of the zipper, loud and clear: it's a warning. And now you know that he's holding it, heavy inside his fist while he strokes himself; precum coating the tip. When you try to look back to have a look, the hand that is still holding your neck tightens on your pressure points and you feel like a deer with its neck between the lion's teeth. All you can focus on is your own wetness. Your hips go backwards in search of friction.

"So fucking needy," he hisses. "Don't worry princesa. I'm going to give you exactly what you need."

You feel his hand on the back of your knee, but this time he grabs it and scoops you up on the table. With the new position, you're wide open under him. So much so that a blush settles over your cheeks as you feel the cool air on your wet flesh.

Still, you're not given much time to think.

He hits your clit with his cock, twice; before entering you with a deep thrust until he bottoms out. His hips are pressed against your butt. Your fingers close around the edge of the table, holding on for dear life. Your nails dig on the wood until you feel splinters falling off.

He groans.

"So tight. Always so fucking tight."

While you try to adjust to the burning, pleasing sensation that has your brain melting; Jake's fingers find the zip of your dress. He unzips it, slowly, revealing the naked skin of your back and no bra in sight. The hand on your nape travels down your back, caressing all skin he can reach, until he touches the skin over your ribs, making you shiver, just to shove his hand under you and catch one of your nipples. He pinches it, hard, until you finally scream. Half pleasure, half pain.

"Such a beautiful sound," he says. "Let's hear it again, shall we?"

He rolls his hips back, mercilessly thrusting into you with such force that the table moves an inch forward. He keeps your leg on the table, your knee flexed over it. His hand falls on your ass for the second time, a bright red handprint now adorning it. He grabs your flesh, massaging it so he can have a better look at where you two are joined. That’s what it takes him to gasp.

"Joder.”

"Jake..." you moan.

It's like he lost his mind. He starts with a rapid pace, relentless, not even giving you time to build it up as you go. He's holding your hips and not even minding that the screws of the table are doing the weirdest of sounds. He must not even care if he breaks it. He bottoms out with each thrust, every freaking time.

You've always known that he becomes feral when you moan his name, but it's not like you do it on purpose. You just love the sound of it leaving your mouth, his warmth against you, his perfectly sculpted body, his chest against your back as he leans in to whisper something in your ear.

"Tell me how it feels."

Your eyes are squeezed shut, trying to take him as best you can. He slows down, not much, but enough to at least let you breathe, even though he is now squeezed against you. His teeth nibble on your earlobe.

"Tell me," he encourages you. His fingers brush both your arms lovingly. "Be a good fucking girl and talk to me."

Another thrust.

"J-Jake..." you breathe out. Another. "Good. Baby, it feels so fucking good."

"Tell me how much you love my cock"

You notice that he's trying to guide the conversation, tell you exactly what he wants to hear because you're too cockdumb for dirty talk.

"I love your cock so much," you gasp, tears pricking your eyes. "So much... so much..."

He stops thrusting for a second but doesn't pull out. Quite the opposite, he is as deep in you as it is humanly possible. He chuckles under his breath, leaves a kiss on your spine and you feel him smile against your flesh.

"My princess cannot even talk, uh?" he says. "Don't worry baby, I got you."

He takes a handful of your hair in his fist. He pulls your head back, the action earning a loud cry that is soon muffled by a kiss. His other hand rests on your collarbone, making its way up until the pads of his fingers rest over your pulse points. You know he can feel your quick heartbeat under his fingertips.

His mouth leaves yours, and you're instantly complaining with a whine. Even if he's just one inch away from your lips.

"Open," he whispers, still holding your neck. You obey, parting your lips, and Jake spits in your mouth. The pleasure makes you clench around him. "Swallow," you follow his orders, and he squeezes your neck so he can feel the muscles moving under his touch. "That's my good girl."

There's a stupid grin on your face when he says it, warmth in your chest when he pecks your lips as a reward. It's almost impossible to believe how your body can have physical reactions to his words, even without one touch of his. It's ridiculous how much you love to please him. That's usually how the sex with Jake works: he gives you orders, you obey, he calls you his good girl.

You love it.

He pulls your head back into the table, returning to the same pace he started with. His cock fills you up to the brim, as if you were the finest glass of wine. You're not even sure you have enough air in your lungs. But you're not scared by that, Jake is so aware of every single sound and movement you make, that if he thinks you need a break, he will give it to you, exactly as he just did a second ago.

Then, through the maddening cloud of pleasure that has settled in your brain, you hear it. You hear it coming from him.

"You're so pretty," he says. You instantly feel the lump in your throat. "You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

It's not the first time he says it, of course not. He even said it the first time you met him, even if you didn't believe him at the time. The thing is he has said it before, so you don't understand how you simply shut down like a toy that has run out of batteries, how your body goes limp.

You don't want to ruin the moment, even if it feels like you're going through an emotional storm all of a sudden. All the memories fill your mind like an avalanche, including every single word at that wedding not long ago.

That's how you decide that maybe, if you close your eyes, you'll be able to retain the tears long enough for them to fade. So you do, while Jake keeps thrusting into your senseless body. His hand on your hair weakens, but he doesn't seem to notice, and you thank that the position doesn't allow much eye contact.

But then he says it again.

"So pretty right now," he says. "Dios (God)," he growls. "I can't believe I got you."

The lump in your throat doesn't let you breathe, and that's when you burst into tears. You cry, because you never once thought in your life that you’d have someone like him in your life, let alone telling you how pretty you are. You sob and feel so immature right then and there, like a child crying for the silliest reason you could think of. In a desperate attempt at concealing your view from him, you bring one of your hands, the one that is closest, to your face, while the other falls by the edge of the table.

Jake stops immediately.

"Baby?" he asks, his voice low and full of concern. "Baby, baby, hey..." his hand barely touches your shoulder, trying to get your attention, but all he feels is the trembling of your body as you cry. He pulls out slowly. "Did I hurt you? Shit, did I hurt you?" his voice turns angry, angry at himself, but he keeps the composure for you. "You should've said the safeword, baby. Please, you have to tell me..."

By the tone of his voice, the way it breaks on the last word, you know he's barely hanging out of a thread. He caresses the skin of your shoulders. One of his hands tries to uncover your face as you sob. You struggle against him, but he's stronger and once your hand is out of your face, he holds it down, his fingers intertwining with yours.

"Babe..." he whispers. "Tell me where it hurts. If it's that bad we can go to the hospital, you don't have to be embarrassed..." he says. "I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so sorry. I should've noticed," then you hear him whisper to himself. "Soy un maldito imbécil. (I'm a fucking asshole.)"

He leans to kiss your shoulder, then he rests his forehead against your warm skin.

"It's not that," you respond. Your voice is barely a whisper. Tears are still pricking your eyes, some of them still falling down your face. "I'm not hurt."

That catches his attention. Jake brushes the baby hairs out of your face and now you can see him. Tears are about to spill from his eyes, but he doesn't let them. He's frowning, confused, and his calloused hand rests on your hair.

"You are not?"

"I'm sorry I scared you."

"Oh, nena, (Oh, baby girl)" he says, and leans again to kiss your temple. "Don't say that, don't apologize. Just tell me what's wrong."

Despite all his attentions and not wanting to keep him worried about you, you hesitate as you look into his deep brown orbs. It's not that you don't want to explain it to him, but you don't know where to start. Where does one start to explain something that has always been present in your life? It's as if someone asked you how you learned to breathe. Well, it was just there.

Jake patiently waits, until your eyes focus on him and he knows you're not thinking about the matter any longer. The more you think about it, the way you've been treated, all the situations and how worthless they made you feel; the more your eyes fill with unspilled tears.

"Stay here, okay?"

You didn't notice he was caressing your back until his touch vanished. Once he's gone, your mind starts to race, to call you names and think way too much about how annoyed Jake must feel for your sudden outburst of emotions. You bring your hands to your face, suddenly overwhelmed by the mess you've made.

You stand on the floor, and it's not until then that you feel the pain in your hips, exactly where they hit the table with each of Jake's thrusts. The soreness is so familiar that you can already see the bruises that will mark your skin tomorrow.

"I'm such a fucking idiot," you press your palms against your face, angry that you couldn't just keep yourself quiet.

Jake comes back from the bathroom with a wet cloth and he doesn't say a word before kneeling right in front of you. You spread your legs to give him access, wondering what you did to deserve such a kind man.

He cleans you up. The cloth is drenched in warm water. He cleans you thoroughly, with a care and gentleness you rarely see in his actions. You hold the skirt of your dress up to let him work, and he looks up at you just once, his eyes as big as a puppy's, just before he leans down and kisses one of the hickeys on your thighs. Once he's done, he takes your panties and pulls them up your legs, as if he had never touched you.

"Thank you," you whisper once he's standing back on his feet.

Jake shakes his head and brings you closer. He hugs you, your chin resting on his collarbone as he pulls your hair over your shoulder so he can zip the dress up.

"All ready," he says, still holding you. His hand rests on the back of your head. "Come on."

He takes you to the couch, where he sits first just to drag your body over his lap. Once you're sat, he surrounds your back with his arm as you hug him. Your forehead resting against his. Jake closes his eyes and breathes in your essence.

At first, you don't know where to start, and the first few sentences don't feel quite right either. However, he doesn't flinch, so you keep going and all of sudden you can't stop. You start with the wedding, telling him about your group of friends even though he has already met some of them. You explain the whole situation as you look for a reaction on his face. Annoyance, probably, because you didn't let him finish for something that happened right before you met him; or disappointment; because he expected something much more serious than something along the lines of 'I was never told what you just said to me'.

Then you explain the situations you saw yourself in. You tell him about the pain and the hurt hoping he understands, about the disrespect too. You tell him about all the times you were straight-up ignored, about the guys that only approached you to keep you busy while their friends flirted with your friend and they wouldn't even talk to you. You talk about being called a prude, people insulting your appearance and your hobbies, calling you weird. You tell him about that constant feeling you had, not feeling enough or loveable, just a laughing stock for both strangers and every single one of your friends. Maybe the very last option on someone's table, in the best of cases.

That's when he shakes his head.

"Half the time I feel so lucky to have you," you say, tears still staining your face. "That I wonder if you're real. When you kiss me, I remember how I used to think I'd never be able to show my love to anyone."

"Oh, nena," he whispers. You can see the pained expression on his face. "I'm so sorry all of that happened to you." you can see the struggle in his eyes. He's looking for the right words to comfort you. He’s never been good with words. "But I'm here now. And I assure you, I'm gonna give you all you deserve, and all the experiences you never had. All of them are wrong, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. It's their fucking problem if they cannot see that."

He holds you close, speaks over your hair.

"You're wrong, you're not unloveable. And you will never be alone again," he says. "I'm gonna tell you how pretty you are until the day I kick the bucket, I swear to God."

"Jake," you pull away slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. "Don't say that."

"But I mean it," he insists. Then, he squints. "I'd like to see any of those fuckers that mistreated you and..."

"Oh, stop," you chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah, I stop, but you tell me if by any chance we run into any of them..."

"So you can choke them to death? Yeah, maybe I will," you respond, and his shoulders relax, glad about your answer. "Not sure if I should be concerned about how serious you are right now."

Jake chuckles, and you end up laughing too. His eyes sparkle when he looks at you, and he keeps stroking your hair and tucking it behind your ear.

"Te quiero, preciosa (I love you, gorgeous)," he says. And even though your Spanish is very limited, you understand those words, because he has said them plenty of times before. "Come here."

Gently taking your chin, he guides you to his mouth. He pecks your lips at first, right before his other hand falls on the back of your head and pushes you against him. His lips part, his tongue gently licks your own. He makes you moan. His forehead rests against your collarbone when he's done. He breathes in through the nose, as if he could swallow you whole just by inhaling you.

"So... are you not angry at me?" you ask.

"Why would I be?"

"Because I ruined our moment."

"No, you didn't," he says. He kisses your shoulder. "We needed to talk about this, we already did. We fuck all the time, we can finish that up later," he said. "My moments with you are always special, whether we are just talking, not doing anything at all, or fucking like rabbits."

You chuckle again.

"My God Jake, your mouth."

"What about it?" he laughs.

You shake your head and hide your face on his neck. A blush has settled on your features and you're not ready for Jake to tease you about it.

"I love you too, by the way," you tell him. "I love you so much."

He lets out a content sigh, his body sinking into the couch as he lets his head fall on the backrest.

"My pretty girl," his fingers are doing circles on your back. His scent is intoxicating. Your eyelids are starting to drop. "You're safe here. No one can hurt you now."

His own eyes fall shut as he starts drifting off too.

Tags: @later-gators12 @bensolosbluesaber @winter-captain-01 @dark-haired-and-mentally-ill @mirrorballgarden @zem0laufeys0n @murdickdocked @loki-hargreeves

Want to be tagged?

#jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x fem!reader #jake lockley smut #jake lockley #jake lockley x y/n #jake lockley x you #moon knight x reader #oscar isaac x reader #moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #steven grant x you #steven grant x fem!reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader

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unboundndd · 11 months

Note

Omg finally someone who is willing to write for kayn 😭😭😭 I have been starved FOR AGES i'm telling you. For the past months or so all I've been thinking abt is how Kayn would develop a relationship with a reader who's from the kinkou (a whole enemies to lovers if you will). Just some general headcanons about the relationship tysm ❤️😭😭 can't wait to see more of your writing!

hELLO hello!! I swear uni has been keeping me from writing, i had no energy but i am a bit more free for now~ i’ve been starving for Kayn content too so let’s get started!!!

//tag: enemies to lovers, kayn has no idea what emotions are

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· If anybody were to ask Kayn what he thinks about you they would be met with silence. It’s normal for him as he isn’t too keen on talking about topics like this and he finds the question a bit obvious: you’re Kinkou, he’s not. You’re trying to bring back the balance that Ionia has lost back alongside Shen, which means you’re actively trying to stop him from reaching his goals and true potential.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· If only this was what he truly thought, in fact his feelings towards you are much more complex. It’s not a mere matter of blindly hating you because of the group you’re affiliated with, it has to do with the fact that you seem to periodically appear where he is and always try to obstacle him. Despite that he has never felt the instinct to kill you, as if his brain doesn’t completely think of you as an useless nuisance.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· The fact is that you challenge him and motivate him to get better, fighting against you doesn't trigger the same deeply engrained reflexes he'd have when killing any other Kinkou alcyote or Noxian soldier. Every encounter with you keeps him alert, reminds him of the high he gets when conquering something that isn't handed to him that easily and despite the two of you being on the opposing sides of such a difficult conflict you can't help but look for one another.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· Accepting that you might have a crush on the man you're supposed to hate is hard, more than any normal crush. Apart from wondering if you're misinterpreting his actions like when he spared you after one of your missions went wrong or the time he patched you up as you hid from Noxian soldiers who were passing by, you also needed to conceal your feelings. If Kayn was simply toying with you he could use the feelings you grew against you, maybe this was just a cold manipulation technique to encourage you to lower your guard or maybe he couldn't feel any love at all.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· That said you still were unable to stop staring at him during another one of your run-ins, you were both alone and your eyes would keep wandering to his lips that were perpetually graced by a confident smirk. You wanted to slap him, kiss him, anything to make him shut up and stop taunting you. It was getting to your head and soon enough you found yourself on the floor, pinned against him and with Rhaast's blade dangerously close to your neck.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· If Rhaast's eye wasn't creepily staring at you, then at kayn and then back to you it would have been better. Maybe even enjoyable as the weight of his entire body was crushing your hips and legs, his expression wasn't revealing anything of his intentions so you had no idea if he was going to let you go or if he was done with playing with you.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· The fact that Kayn suddenly kissed you was so far away from your possible predictions that you thought you were already dead and this was just your brain conjuring up a happy scenario to aid you in passing into the spirit realm. He wasn't exactly doing a great job, teeth clanking against yours and clumsily trying to understand what exactly he needed to do, only when you kissed him back with the same fervor did he start to finally understand what he needed to do.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· "This is what you wanted, didn't you? Get. Out! Out of my head. It's- You're the one who's been distracting me!"

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· You were starting to feel like maybe there was a chance your feelings were reciprocated, Kayn wasn't looking like his usual confident self once he finally had to part from your lips. He was confused and angry at the fact that in the end you managed to beat him by thanks to your wit and your personality.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· Ever since that day you and Kayn have been meeting in secret, ignoring the loyality you were both supposed to have for your respective factions. You never have as much time together as you wish and you spend your days either sparring or lazily laying in each other's arms, it mostly depends on how Kayn is feeling.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· You're quite amused when Kayn admits to you that he's never had any kind of relationship, don't tease him for it though, not if you want him to deprive you of all of the affection you crave for the sake of sweet revenge. He loves to hear you beg for him to just kiss you or when you ask for a hug, the fact that he's the only one who will ever see you like this makes him feel very proud of himself.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· You also find out that Rhaast has been the one guiding Kayn and telling him what people in a relationship do, he basically has a corrupted, cruel but extremely experienced wingman by his side.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· Sometimes you have to sneak in/out from each other's rooms when it's late at night and even though you've both been training hard to be stealthy it's still not perfect. Shen knows, and Zed does too and both have decided not to interfere for the time being. Who knows, perhaps something interesting will come out of your new relationship.

#lol x reader #kayn x reader #kayn lol

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ladamedusoif · 5 months

Text

It might be the cold meds talking, but I feel like I need to have a ramble about writing - partly because I’ve seen a few “you write for YOU and whatever you WANT” posts over the last few days, some of which have been spot on and some not so much.

To clarify: this post isn’t about me. Or at least, it’s MOSTLY not about me. It’s just some observations about fic.

This is a lovely and important message. Ultimately, we do all write for ourselves. Of course we do.

But saying “write for you and only for you!” is easier when you’re someone who routinely gets hundreds of notes on a fic within the first couple of hours. Or when you’ve got a massive audience already. Or when you write something that seems to get more attention than anything else in terms of popular characters and tropes (ahem Joel age gap smut ahem).

Trends come and go in literature of all kinds, whether properly published works or fics. That’s par for the course.

But the problem is when it feels like only a certain kind of story gets any attention. When stories with real heart and love and care and feeling seem to be routinely ignored because they don’t fit the bill: they’re slow burns, they don’t involve popular tropes, but they’re proper stories that could exist without any connection to the fandom they’ve been written for.

And, worse, when the people writing those stories start to feel deeply disheartened and as if it’s just not worth it.

We talk a lot about anon hate (spoiler: don’t do it) and nine times out of ten that seems to be based on the idea of people writing potentially triggering or taboo topics saying they’ve received “hate”. (Sometimes this is actual hate and sometimes it’s genuine, considerate questioning around warnings etc.)

Thing is: the people writing the ‘unpopular’ stories get hate - genuine, real, nasty hate - too. This post isn’t really about me, but as an example: I’ve not turned on anon asks in months, because of the last shitfest. And I’m not alone, because I know what people have had sent into their inbox in response to the most inoffensive, sweet stories. It baffles me.

All this is to say - I wish people would be a little bit more open in what they want to read, and would recognise that “anon hate” isn’t just about puritanical prudes trying to “tell people what to write” as seems to be the general assumption. People keep trying to put a bit more diversity out there in the fic buffet, to write loving and carefully crafted stories, and for all the “write it for you” posts it still feels like it doesn’t matter. Like no one wants it. And that’s when writers start to think they’re awful, their ideas are bad, their style is weak.

Worse? They get shitty, mean-spirited asks and comments. (Even if it’s not “hate”. I’m still baffled by the people who say they couldn’t finish a one-shot of mine because there wasn’t a significant age gap between the Reader and the male character… but I don’t think that’s strictly hate, as such. Dispiriting, though.)

And what happens then? They stop writing. The stories cease. And the fic buffet becomes more and more one-note, more and more dictated by prevailing winds and a particular kind of purple prose style. And the readers - who might have found those stories if more people had engaged with them and reposted and shared them - wonder why no one seems to write for them.

A while back I wrote a tag that was something like “there’s room for everything”. Unfortunately, that “everything” remains a little limited, at least in terms of what actually seems to get picked up and gain traction. And “there’s room for everything” doesn’t mean that all writers are above reproach, either.

Try something new, people. Give a soft story a go. Who knows, you might like it.

#rambling rose #writing #support your local fanfiction writers #if there’s room for everything then there’s room for everything #does not mean you can’t take any criticism ever #it should mean more engagement with a wider range of stories #unfortunately that does not seem to be the way #fanfiction

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aziraphales-library · 3 months

Note

Hi!

I’ve had the idea of Crowley and Azi during Halloween and was wondering if there’re any fics with that premise?

I really appreciate this blog btw :)

We have a few posts on our #halloween tag. Here are some more to add, specifically around the celebrating of halloween...

Bobbing for Apples by Celessstial_Harmoniesss, ElderlySardine (T)

When Aziraphale first declared that he wanted to hold a Halloween party, he really hadn't thought things through at all. Sticky-fingered young humans playing party games in his bookshop? It didn't bear thinking about. But the angel was nothing if not stubborn, and besides, all the preparations were proving to be a great excuse to spend time with a certain demon. And he really would invite some actual humans too, any day now. The problem was that every Halloween tradition Aziraphale knew seemed to have something to do with finding one's future husband. And when you were a supernatural entity with the subconscious ability to bend reality to your will, that had the potential to be a little... embarrassing.

Soft, Gentle, Warm by hope_in_the_dark (T)

Crowley has a proposal for an autumn holiday. Aziraphale goes along with it, eventually. There is also much pining, which is relatively quickly resolved.

Ghosts, Goblins, and Golden Eyes by mellow_cello_charm (T)

London, October 31st. ---------------- “How about you? Anything exciting lined up?” the demon asked as they crossed the road. Aziraphale snapped out of it. “Oh, I’ll just be having an early night. If I’m in the mood, I might take M.R. James to bed.” Crowley stared at him, arching a quizzical brow. “Say that again?” “M.R. James. I have his collected ghost stories. You’d find them boring, but I think they’re a jolly good spooky read, especially in bed with a cup of tea.” “Uh-huh. Yeah, I’m sure they are.” ---------------- A Good Omens Halloween Special.

Dead Man’s Party: An Ineffable Halloween by Willowfern (T)

Under the belief that Warlock’s powers might somehow be triggered, Aziraphale and Crowley get themselves invitations to a Halloween party at the Dowlings’ home. Or, Halloween shenanigans, and Crowley gets drunk and causes a mess.

Endless Night by AppleSeeds (T)

Spending Halloween in an old cottage with his housemates, university student Crowley finds himself trapped in a time loop that repeats every four hours, with only the spirit of Anathema's dead witchy ancestor to help guide him. Agnes believes the time loop has been triggered by Crowley's own thoughts, and that the only way to break it is to ensure that Aziraphale, who Crowley is completely infatuated with, actually enjoys himself. Despite how flustered he gets every time he even looks at Aziraphale, Crowley does everything he can to try to make that happen. But no matter what he tries, things keep going wrong.

A Kind of Spooky Feeling by his_infinitevariety (T)

Having embraced the festive spirit last December, Aziraphale finds himself wrapped up in the spooky season this October, with Crowley insisting they celebrate the entire month of Halloween.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #halloween #fluff #mod d

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littleseasiren · 1 year

Text

Fight for me - Part 6

Summary: After years in an abusive relationship, you finally get out. When the Avengers decide to raise awareness for your Woman’s Shelter, you bump into Bucky Barnes, the hottest, most complicated man you’ve ever met. He thinks you’re too good for him, but when your abusive ex reappears, Bucky knows he has to keep you safe - by any means necessary.

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky x reader

Warnings: Language, violence, kissing, dry humping, the Winter Soldier, little bit of angst, fluff

Words: ~ 3000

A/N: Grammarly is my beta reader, so any mistakes are my own. I know nothing about guns or Russian, so please ignore any mistakes. If you want to be added to my tag list, please comment or message me. Comments and reblogs will be appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Series Masterlist

It's late at night when Steve pours you a shot of Whiskey. "So, that was the Winter Soldier..." you ask rhetorically, thinking back on how Bucky had been screaming less than an hour ago when he had been triggered to become the Winter Soldier.

It seems someone had found a back door in JARVIS' system and had used it to link with the security cameras and the intercom system in the tower. Thank God for Wanda. She had surprised the soldier and used her amazing powers to contain him in the gym long enough for Tony to release the sleeping gas.

Swallowing the whiskey down, you enjoy the warm sensation in your throat, yet it doesn't seem to relax you after the events of the afternoon. It was five hours later and Bucky hadn't woken up yet. Bruce and Tony had taken the first two shifts to watch the sleeping soldier and to keep him safe. It was Sam's turn to watch him now.

"That was... that was like an echo of the Winter Soldier. The few times I've fought him, he was a lot worse. If Wanda hadn't been here you'd know what I'm talking about. When we first discovered that Bucky was the Winter Soldier, he took on Natasha, Sam, and I, and he almost won..." Steve's eyes take on a distant look, thinking back to that time.

"Wow, he's that good?" You knew he was a great fighter, Natasha even said he might be the best fighter in the Avengers group, but to hear it from Steve just made it seem more realistic. With Bucky's size and strength, you'd expect him to be slow, but he moved impossibly fast. The result of years of fighting and the serum coursing through his veins, you suppose.

"Yeah, he is that good. In the army, they said he was the best natural-born fighter that they had ever seen, and that was before he became a sniper too. When he's the Soldier, he's trained to do whatever the person who triggered him says. Doesn't matter if it hurts him, he has to listen. He's -" Steve is interrupted when Sam enters the kitchen.

"Yo, Cap. What do you need?" Sam asks, grabbing a shake from the kitchen.

"What are you talking about?" Steve's eyes narrow as he stares at Sam, "Why aren't you with Bucky?"

The colour drains out of Sam's face. "Scott said you needed me? You said he should watch Bucky instead?"

When Steve jumps up from his seat, he's furious. "Fuck!" Sam shouts as he runs down the corridor, running to the gym.

Steve shouts to JARVIS to lockdown the tower and inform Tony about what happened before the two of you run to the gym after Sam.

The bulletproof door of the gym is wide open and Bucky is nowhere to be seen. Steve cocks his head and is running down a different corridor when Sam flies through a wall, groaning as he tries to get up, the Winter Soldier lifting him by his throat, squeezing the life out of Sam with his metal arm.

Steve runs to the fight, kicking Bucky in the ribs, making him drop Sam to the floor. You rush to Sam, making sure he is still alive. From the corner of your eye, you see Wanda enter the room, fingers starting to light up as you pull Sam to a nearby wall to get him away from the fighting.

Bucky hits Steve hard in the chest, making him bump into Wanda and lose her concentration. When she looks up, the Winter Soldier is on her, grabbing her two small hands behind her back and knocking her into the wall before she slumps to the ground unconscious.

Steve runs to him again, the two super soldiers punching and kicking each other so fast, that you struggle to keep up with them. Like lighting, the Winter Soldier has Steve's right arm in his grasp, elbow pointing down before he brings his knee up, driving it into Steve's forearm. You scream as you hear the sickening sound of Steve's arm breaking, his bone sticking out of his bloody forearm. Not done with him yet, the Winter Soldier grabs Steve's shirt and spins him around, throwing him through a different wall into the next room.

You can't help the shiver spreading over your entire body as cold, merciless eyes meet your own. The Soldier bends down to you, grasping you around the neck as he pushes you against the wall, his eyes roaming over you.

"Bucky, please!" You shout, seeming to only anger the soldier in front of you as he snarls at you. "Winter, please..." You stammer, grasping onto his metal wrist, your hands too small to circle it completely. You take a chance and blurt out any excuse before it is too late. "They want me alive, don't they?"

The light pressure on your neck relaxes, but his hand stays where it is. He stares at you, eyes meeting yours before dropping to your lips for just a second and back up again.

"What are your orders, Winter?"

"Kill the Avengers and take you to them, unharmed."

You take a chance and rub your hands up and down his chest slowly, trying to coax him down from the edge. His brows knit in confusion. Has anyone ever willingly touched him before?

"Do you know who I am?" You ask him softly, your thumb rubbing his neck as you move your hands up.

"Your Y/N," he removes his arm from your neck and grasps your hips in both his hands, stepping in closer, "you're his woman."

Your heart beats in your chest, your mind racing to keep up with the soldier in front of you. "No Winter, I'm your woman. You're a part of him, so I'm yours too. I'm your kitten." You rub your nose in his neck, breathing him in as he does the same to you. You spot Wanda as she wobbles to her feet.

"My kitten," he whispers, before kissing your neck. You move your hands up, eyes locking on Wanda, as you try and relay a message to her in your mind before your hands grasp Winter's hair.

"Look at me, Winter," you beg him. He straightens up as you see Wanda exit the room, helping Sam slip out. "You don't want to hurt me, right?" He shakes his head before his lips meet yours, his kiss dominant and all too eager. When he breaks the kiss you continue, "Good. You know, if you take me to them, they'll hurt me..."

"I won't let them." He says as he pushes in closer to you. "You're mine." His authoritative tone sends goosebumps down your spine. He has no doubt, no shyness as he stakes his claim.

"Did they say when you have to take me to them? Exactly when?"

He shakes his head again as his hand moves up to cup one of your breasts. You moan in response. "So you can take me tomorrow, right?" He only nods in reply before he places kisses down your throat. Your voice is husky as you continue, "Let me make you feel good Winter."

When he pulls back you point to the couch next to the door that has somehow remained intact. He pulls you with him as he sits on the couch, pulling you down so you straddle him. "Just relax, handsome. Let me make you feel good."

His eyes are almost completely black as you lean down and lick his throat, placing small nips before kissing them better. You can feel how hard he is beneath you as he holds your waist and grinds you down on him. You meet his lips again, sucking on his lower lip as you pull his hair softly, making him moan in arousal.

Pushing down your hips, you rub your core on his hard bulge, eyes widening when you feel him grow even bigger beneath you. You pull his hair to the side, making him turn his face away from the door as you kiss down his exposed neck, dipping your tongue in the hollow of his collarbone, making him shiver. His arms wrap around your back, holding you to him as he thrusts up into your clothed core, looking for relief the Winter Soldier hasn't felt before. You scratch your nails down his back softly, whining as his bulge hits your clit.

Through a haze of desire, you hear Wanda's voice in your head, telling you she's ready. You release your hold on Winter's hair as you run your hand down his chest before cupping his hardness in your hand, making him growl with need as he pushes into your hand. "That's it kitten. Shit... after I cum in your hand, I'm going to make you scream with my cock," Winter whispers in your ear, making you even wetter.

Your need to get Bucky back conflicts with your rising desire, but when you see Wanda in the corner of your eye, you know what you have to do. You kiss Winter hard, fighting your tongue with his before you pull back. You cup him hard, making him moan in pleasure before you grasp the syringe Wanda floats to you and inject the tranquillizer into his exposed neck, making the Winter Soldier grasp your hips for a second before he passes out.

It takes four men to carry Bucky to his bed. After Steve had hit the alarm, Tony and Bruce had gone searching for Scott and had managed to capture him before he could find a way out of the tower. When they looked through the security tapes, they saw Scott enter the gym and wake a sleeping Bucky before triggering him again. Tony had wanted to place Bucky in a cell, but you and Steve had managed to convince him that everyone would be safer if the rest of the tower couldn't get to him.

Steve had his broken arm set in a cast during that time and was now napping on the couch in Bucky's lounge area while you slept next to the sleeping soldier. On the cameras, it showed that Bucky had been himself when he woke up after the first time he was triggered, so you had no doubt that he would be himself again soon. The injection Wanda had given you had been made by Bruce and was stronger than anything a normal human could withstand. However, with Bucky's fast metabolism, you had no idea how long he would be out.

Four hours later you wake to Bucky muttering in his sleep a look of terror on his face. He pulls you to him like you are his safety blanket in a world gone crazy.

"No, no!" He shouts, his body shaking.

You try to wake him up softly, knowing how vulnerable you feel when you have a nightmare. Steve is in the doorway, seeing if you need assistance when Bucky's eyes shoot open and he releases his hold on you. His gaze is distant before he realises where he is. He glances at Steve before he groans and pinches his nose, lying on his back in the bed.

"Please tell me it was just a bad dream," he asks, eyes focused on the ceiling.

"Afraid not, punk," Steve says from the door.

Bucky sighs before he sits up, facing the two of you. His eyes scan your body before he moves to Steve and flinches at his cast. "Steve, I'm so sorry. Who else did I hurt?" He turns to you before he continues, "Are you alright doll?"

"I'm ok, Bucky. He didn't really hurt me..." You grasp his metal hand in comfort.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be extra nice to Sam, he took the brunt of the soldier's attack. He has two broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder. He's got a bruised larynx from your vibranium arm too. He's in the cradle now, Dr. Cho says he should be out in 30 minutes. Wanda is under observation with a concussion."

Bucky's shoulders tense as he tries to process everything. "Fuck," he whispers to himself harshly, pinching the bridge of his nose before he faces Steve once again, "I'm so sorry, Stevie."

"It wasn't you Buck. Wanda managed to contain you the first time. If it wasn't for Scott betraying us, this would never have happened again." Steve smiles down at you as you move closer to Bucky, wrapping your arms around his side before he picks you up and puts you in his lap. "I'll tell the others your back, Buck. I'm going to go sit with Sam, when you guys are caught up feel free to join me." He waves in greeting as he departs.

"I'm so sorry, kitten. I never wanted you to see me that way. I never wanted you to meet him." He pulls you to his chest, kissing you softly.

"It's ok, Bucky. He didn't really hurt me."

"Thank God for - wait," he pulls back and stares down at you, "I didn't really hurt you? So I did hurt you a bit?"

"I..." you want to spare him any more bad news but you know you can't lie to him. "When I injected him... he just gripped my hips a bit. Nothing major, I promise Bucky. I just have a bruise or two."

He leans his forehead against yours softly. "I'm so sorry doll. I'm so sorry for hurting you... and I'm so sorry that I forced you to... distract me in that way. I know after everything you've been through, being forced to play that role again must have been terrible. You must hate me now."

"What? No Bucky. You didn't force me into anything. I wanted to help you, I just wish that I didn't have to hurt you." You hold his face and lean in close. Blue eyes full of sorrow meet yours hesitantly. "I love you Bucky, and Winter is a part of you. There's no piece of you that I could ever hate."

Bucky's eyes widen in response as he grabs your waist once again. "Please, please... Say that again," he stares at you intensely, watching the expression on your face.

You giggle softly as you wrap your hands around his neck. "I love you Bucky, I love you so much!"

His lips descend on yours, his kiss deep and demanding as he deepens the kiss, holding you to him. You run your fingers through his hair as you return the kiss.

Just when you feel you can't breathe anymore he pulls back. "I love you Y/N. God, I love you so fucking much. I'll rip the world to shreds to keep you safe if I have to."

This time you pull him closer, clutching at his hair and pulling him down to you, kissing him with everything you have. Reluctantly the two of you part, knowing you have to visit Sam before the night is through.

Bucky's flesh hand trembles as he enters the medical wing in the Tower, nervous at having to face the others. You grab his hand between the two of yours, doing your best to help him relax with a quick squeeze. With a quick smile in your direction, Bucky takes a deep breath before he faces Sam and Wanda.

"I'm so sorry you two," Bucky says as he faces the two of them. Sam is pale as he lies in a hospital bed, with Wanda and Steve in the seats next to him. Wanda has a huge bump on her head and seems exhausted.

"Wanda, I-" Bucky starts to say but Wanda surprises him and runs to him to give him a hug.

"You are not to blame for what he does, ok? I know how awful you feel, but we all know it wasn't you Bucky," Wanda says as she pulls back after a few seconds.

When Bucky starts to argue, she interrupts him once again. "I don't want to hear any apologies, Sergeant. Even Sam agrees with me, right Sam?"

Wanda moves to Sam's side once again, waiting for him to answer.

"She's right you know, B. Even when the soldier was kicking my ass, I could see in his eyes that it wasn't you. The two of you are like opposites. He even fights more with his left arm while you usually prefer your dominant right side. He's like the evil mirror version of you." Sam's voice is hoarse and soft as he speaks, his throat still sensitive from being strangled half to death.

You and Bucky move closer to Sam. "I'm still so sorry Sam. You almost died."

"You don't need to apologise, Bucky. We're a family, and family sticks together right?" Sam's words cause Bucky's eyes to widen, they're shiny before he blinks away the unshed tears. The thought of Sam forgiving him so easily is difficult to accept but is also a huge relief.

"Yeah, Sam. Family sticks together." He glances at Steve and Wanda, "Till the end of the line," he whispers. He pulls you close as he kisses the top of your head, his smile beaming as he understands what it's like to have people care for him for the first time in seventy years.

Tag List:

@crazyunsexycool @morganmofresh @dottirose @cjand10 @buggy14

#bucky barns x reader #bucky x y/n #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky angst #bucky fluff #steve rogers #the avengers #sam wilson #wanda maximoff #winter soldier #bucky x you #bucky barnes

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 26 days

Text

Bittersweet 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your startup business catches the eye of a powerful rival.

Character: Loki Laufeyson

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

“So, the Green Bundle includes a Match truffle, chocolate mint smoothies, and green tea infused fudge,” you explain to the trio of women across from you. “The deluxe includes peppermint cocoa as well and comes in a this mug.”

You present one of the few kits you have left in your inventory. As big a deal as getting a stall at the event was, you hadn’t expected the crowd. You’re overwhelmed, especially realising you’re the only stand with only a single body.

“That’s so cute,” the taller brunette remarks, “what about the Pink kit? It says strawberry and creme?”

“Ah, yes, that one sold out rather quickly today. I can offer a voucher for my online boutique or I can sell you a sampler box? It has the strawberry and creme as well as my more popular flavours.”

“Do you do this all yourself?” The curly blonde asks as she eyes the chocolate dipped cherries.

Another body crowds in, a tall men bending to peruse your hand-painted sign listing all your bundles and boxes. He pays you little mind as he eyes cling to the letters and he reaches to pluck up one of your cards. You return your attention to the blonde.

“Yes, they’re all hand-crafted. The mugs as well but I don’t do those. I’ve a friend who makes those.”

“The packaging is so pretty,” the first preens, “can I have a sampler then?”

“Sure,” you answer, “I do the packaging as well. All the stickers, the bows I tie myself, and I decorate each box.”

“Wow, that’s so cool,” the middle on remarks, “I’ll have a sampler as well and the green bundle.”

“Sampler for me,” the third agrees.

You go through the same process with each. You grab the product, put it in a bag, seal it with a sticker, and ring them through with a tap of their card. They all seem excited for their purchase and it’s contagious. It’s been a hectic day but you’re running low and you don’t think you’ll make it through to closing. Still, it’s good advertising.

“Green tea fudge?” The tall man slithers towards the center of your counter, “an unusual combination.”

“Yes, that one took a lot of experimenting.”

“Mmm,” he still has your card in hand, bending it slightly as he flicks it with his thumb, “the red bundle. Cherry, red velvet, and...” he leans back to check the sign, “cayenne. Interesting.”

“I try to make sure there’s variety in each,” you explain.

“Yes, so it seems. I’ll take a red then.”

“Sorry, sir, um, I’ve sold out of most. I still have the yellow, the black, and the green--”

“Sold out?” He raises his wrist to give an emphatic glance at his watch, “either you’re very popular or ill-prepared.”

You’re surprised by the accusation. He’s rather blunt. You’ve dealt with many different types today but they’ve all been relatively pleasant, after all, it’s hard to be in a bad mood at a Baking Show.

“Fair, I wasn’t expecting so many buyers, sir. But you have my card, you’ll see my online boutique is listed--”

“But I want to buy now,” he says as he tilts his head, dark brows rising just slightly.

“I understand, I apologise for the inconvenience, but I just don’t have the red on-hand. I do have a sampler here--” You grab one of the variety boxes, “it would have the cayenne and the cherry.”

“Do you think a one-person operation like this is sustainable?” He inquires sharply.

You wince and shake your head, “sir? I’ve only just started. I’m sure with growth I’ll have to adjust.”

“And do you have a business plan or is this some Etsy venture with no goals?”

You nearly choke. You don’t know what you’ve done to offend him.

“Well, sir, if you don’t want to buy, I do have free samples available. I don’t have any of the red flavours but I do have some banana peanut butter and salted caramel apple--”

“I didn’t ask about samples,” he insists, “I’m asking about your business plan.”

You bat your lashes and look around. Has he come to this event just to interrogate people over their bottom line?

“I suppose it’s something I will have to review after today,” you contend.

“I’d say,” he tucks your card into his jacket pocket, his hand lingering within as he pulls out a leather wallet, “if you have any questions...”

He slides a card free and offers it. You take it hesitantly and read the gold font on matte black cardstock. Black Snake Chocolatier. You run your fingers over the embossed lettering and narrow your eyes. You peer over at the large banner over that business’ booth. He must be from over there but he’s not exactly dressed for the work. His suit is pressed and stainless.

“I did sponsor that one,” he pulls your attention back, “but I’ve come down to take measure of my competition and possible... acquisitions.”

You nod slowly as you meet his green eyes. Is this intimidation?

“Loki Laufeyson,” he offers his hand as a glint of silver in his hair catches the light, “might I have your name?”

You trade your name and a handshake. He squeezes enough for you to wince. He lets go and you slip his card in you apron pocket with all the others collected from your fellow vendors.

“I’ll certainly take a sampler,” he says, “see if this little venture has any teeth.”

His every word is like a bite. He speaks with the fangs of the very logo of his business. You put his purchase into your phone and offer the square for him to tap his payment. He processes it and swipes up the box before you can package it.

“Do you want a bag?” You ask.

“I can handle it,” he tucks the box under his arm. “Best of luck to you doing the same.”

He glances around and slowly moves aside as a group of new customers set in. A family of five with three hollering children with grabby hands. Your eyes widen as you smile at them as best you can. This day has truly tested your social battery.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #drabble #au #sweet and spicy #bittersweet #series #mcu #marvel #thor

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petertingle-yipyip · 9 months

Text

MAD AT GOD - MATT MURDOCK

Series Finale - Vigilante Shit

tags: @ironprincessstranger @americaarse @johnmurphys-sass @dusstory @astrobees @mayasaurus--rex @woowwwee // eight // epilogue // masterlist

Pairing: Matt X Reader

Word Count: 13,587 (and you wonder why it took me so long.)

Summary: Ladies always rise above but when one lady’s simply had enough, revenge takes human form in Hell’s Kitchen’s Exodus. With her rightful partner beside her, they take on the Kingpin and his former Bullseye.

“Do you affirm that the testimony you are about to give in the case now before the court will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” The bailiff asked simply as you took your seat on the stand. “This you affirm under the pains and penalties of perjury?”

“Yes.” You nodded calmly. “I do.”

“For the record, please state your name.” The judge said.

“I’m Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N, FBI SWAT. I’ve been with the bureau for a bit less than a year and all statements made here today are my own. My testimony does not reflect the beliefs or positions of the FBI and I accept any and all consequences my statements may bring.” You answered, keeping your eyes ahead as Tower stood and took his place in front of you. “In the short amount of time that I’ve been with the FBI, I’ve witnessed my bureau, specifically members of my team, fall victim to Fisk’s vicious manipulation.”

“Please explain in detail the crimes you’ve witnessed.” He said simply.

“I’ve witnessed slander and false accusations against one of the Nelson and Murdock attorneys responsible for his first arrest. I’ve witnessed a breach of his house arrest. I’ve witnessed his recruitment of agents and using those agents to kill people, both civilians and other agents. I’ve witnessed him coerce other crime syndicates into complying with a tax to ensure protection from federal prosecution.”

“What agents have you seen?”

“Special Agents Arinori and Poindexter, Special Agent in Charge Hattley. Special Agent Rahul Nadeem and myself witnessed but never participated past that and a few targeted raids. Neither of us pulled the trigger for Wilson Fisk, but we did nothing to stop it. There were others but I didn’t interact with them much.”

“The other agents that were mentioned by Agent Nadeem?”

“I believe so. I don’t remember their names but I could pick them out of a lineup.”

“And how many people were killed?”

“SAC Hattley killed Agent Winn. Special Agent Poindexter killed multiple people, I believe he killed the most. Given his unique skill set, he was a prime target for Fisk’s games. Innocent people died because of Wilson Fisk, good people like Father Lantom, because no one on my team was brave enough to come forward.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Who would believe a novice agent who helped put Fisk away in the first place? He knew no one would believe me if I spoke up sooner, given my very outspoken opinions against him. There was an instance, when he brought up the Nelson and Murdock attorney, that I had caused a scene. My words were driven by my sentimentality regarding the firm since I did have a small stint as an attorney there. From there, it didn’t matter what I knew and he recognized that. It didn’t matter how many times Poindexter brought me along without telling me what was really happening. It didn’t matter who I saw get killed or the fact that I was against him leaving the prison to begin with. He knew my credibility was low and I had no evidence so I wasn’t a threat to his plans… Not until someone else had enough. Agent Nadeem helped give me the courage to come forward with what I’ve seen.”

You glanced around at the jury and found them all - save for the one juror - interested in what you would say next. Tower offered a small, proud smile and Ray listened intently with his hands folded in front of him. He gave you a small nod of reassurance.

“It’s a scary thing, to feel like you have no choice but to do things you don’t agree with. Sometimes you go along for self preservation, sometimes for the people you care about. But at the end of it all, we have our limits. We can only take so much deceit before we have to do something…” You allowed your eyes to water, a shakiness to tint your voice and a slight hesitation between your sentences. “I let him convince me that my word wouldn’t matter, that I- I would just be some voice in the wind. I let him take my conviction. But I’m not going to stand down, not anymore. Wilson Fisk is afraid of what we came here to say because it’s true. The attack on our transport wasn’t a coincidence, nor was it an accident. He attempted to have us killed because of what we know and what we came here to say. If he was truly innocent, why is he trying to cover his tracks?”

“You mentioned repercussions before. Do you worry the FBI will punish you for this?”

“Not the FBI, but the agents Fisk controls. My SAC is in his pocket. My partner is in his pocket. Besides Agent Nadeem, in that hotel, I’m alone. No one protects me the way they protect him… If I lose my job, fine. If I lose my partner, okay. But I cannot stand to lose my loved ones.”

“Thank you, Agent.”

You and Ray were led out after that and you met with your friends in the hall. While Matt chatted with Ray, Foggy offered you a proud smile and moved to hug you but you simply pushed his hands away and began pacing a short distance. You pushed your fingers into your hair and tugged slightly on the ends.

Foggy looked over to Matt for help, but he was still in his conversation with Ray. Knowing that a win today would help ensure Matt stayed on the right track, Foggy decided not to cut in and talk to you on his own. He stepped in front of you and put his hands on your upper arms. You looked at him with your lips pressed together and your eyebrows up.

“Talk to me. What’s going on?” Your friend tried, ducking down to meet your eyes.

“It’s shot. The whole thing is shot.” You answered quietly, trying not to gain any more attention. “He didn’t just know about the trial.”

“What do you mean?”

“So what happens now?” Ray asked, drawing both Foggy’s and your attention. His brows furrowed but you stepped past him before he could speak.

You grabbed Matt’s arm and pulled him a couple steps away as Foggy answered Ray’s question.

You leaned in to speak quietly with your hand still gripping his arm and Matt’s hand landed on your elbow.

“What do you hear?” You asked softly.

His brows furrowed as he listened in, taking a step closer to the doors. As he focused, the grip he had on your arm tightened. You closed your eyes and cursed quietly.

“No, no, no.” Matt muttered and you nodded. “The jurors.”

“Fisk got to them.” You confirmed and opened your eyes, rolling your shoulders back and regaining your composure. “I felt it when we went in but I was hoping I was wrong.”

You glanced around the halls and felt a surge of emotions outside. Everyone still seemed entranced in Karen’s press conference. You had to give it to her, the woman was brave.

After a few anxiety ridden minutes, Tower came out of the courtroom with an apologetic expression as he passed your group. You opened your mouth to speak but he simply shook his head and headed to the cameras outside. You tapped your implant and listened in on the live broadcast from outside and you felt your stomach drop.

At this time, the grand jury had elected not to indict Wilson Fisk. But this office, under my leadership, will pursue every lead, every piece of evidence that leads us to uncovering the truth. The agents that testified today were incredibly brave and we encourage anyone with evidence regarding this case to come forward.

Everything outside continued to spike as you shut off your device and one familiar feeling stood out among the chaos.

“Karen.” You said to yourself as the boys began moving. You looked at them for a second before making a move to the doors. A hand closed around your arm and dragged you in the other direction.

“No, I have to-“ You groaned and tried to pull away but you were shoved forward instead. Looking over, you saw it was Matt who dragged you with him.

You took one last look over your shoulder before giving in and following the group. They hurried into the closest restroom and you locked the door behind you all. Ray pushed through and took a minute to himself while being quite literally sick to his stomach.

“It’s not gonna end like this, Ray. We’re not gonna let it.” Matt promised while leaning against the stalls.

Foggy stood by the sinks and you slid down with your back against the door until you were sitting up on your toes. You had elbows on your propped up knees and your chin resting behind your gently balled fists. Your eyes were trained on the floor, tracing the grout lines between the tiles.

Your brain was running through every scenario you could. You thought about whether or not he’d send Dex after you and Ray. It’d have to wait. There’s no way Dex could take you both out in a locked down courthouse. Would he go after Karen for her press conference? Or had he already wrecked her credibility? All you knew for sure was that it needed to end.

“The system will work.” Foggy ensured and you sighed to yourself.

“You still believe that?” Matt scoffed and you looked up at him.

“Stop it.” You said quietly and he offered a sarcastic expression towards you.

“We’ve been here before. We can fix this.. Tower will impanel another grand jury and try again. We’re not done here. Right, Y/N?”

“What keeps Fisk away from them this time though?” You asked simply as you turned towards your friend. “I wanna do this the right way, Foggy, but it’s not looking too good for us.”

“I told you this would happen.” Matt cut in.

“Matt, stop.” You sighed and pushed yourself to stand. “Fighting each other isn’t gonna help.”

“I need to know where you’re going.” Foggy blocked Matt’s path.

“Guys.” You warned firmly as Matt said “I’m gonna find Tower. Make sure he tries again.”

“I’m going with you.” You offered and you saw him roll his eyes behind his glasses. “Unless there’s a problem?”

“No.” He said tightly. “No problem.”

“Good.” You nodded before leaning closer to Foggy. “Take care of him. Don’t let him lose his nerve.”

Your friend nodded and you grabbed Matt’s arm on the way out.

“God, y’know what, we should’ve just done it our way from the start.” Matt mumbled.

“Our way?” You laughed. “This is our way. The other thing? That’s my way, Matthew. You’ll never be able to do it and it’s not a bad thing. You can’t force yourself to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I almost wanna dare you to try because I know you won’t.”

“A lot has changed, Y/N.”

“Sure, but people don’t completely flip on their morals.” You scoffed.

“Maybe I did. You don’t know.”

“Actually I do, because you’re too strong to do it. You have a certain faith in people that you can’t learn. If you were capable of doing what I do, Dex wouldn’t be around anymore. You believe that people can do good. It’s not the worst ideology to hold on to.”

“Clearly not everyone can.”

You stopped walking and yanked his arm to stop him. He groaned and faced you, a tight grip on his cane and a clench to his jaw.

“This isn’t just about you!” You insisted. “You do understand that, right?”

“Of course I know that. You really think I don’t?”

“Why is it your responsibility then?”

“Because it is!”

“So why didn’t you work this hard to stop me?” You challenged quietly. “If not everyone can be better, why didn’t you try to kill me? I gave you every reason to give up on me, treat me this exact same way, but you never did.”

“You’re not the same, Y/N.” He sighed.

“Thankfully, neither are you and I. There’s always been someone taking people from me. Took my parents, Marc, Frank, Yelena and Nat, Billy, even you - twice - and Foggy, now Dex. I’m not gonna lose you a third time.”

“Y/N, I didn’t realize-“

“No, you never do. You never see beyond what you’re doing. You do this and there’s no coming back from it. Something in your heart is gonna change and you can’t change it back. You can’t undo it.”

“I’m sorry. I just want this to be over with.”

“I know but…” You sighed and looked around, shifting your weight between your feet.

You were hit with a sudden feeling of determination. You turned towards where it came from, the bathroom you left Foggy and Ray in. With a quiet curse, you hurried back, only to find Ray gone and Foggy knocked out.

You screamed out in frustration and slammed an angry fist into the mirror, watching it shatter and become stained with the bloody print of your knuckles. You pushed out of the room and back into the hall, scanning the crowds in an effort to find him. But you saw nothing.

Ray was gone. And the clock was ticking on what kind of countermove Fisk would make against him. Against all of you.

You practically ran out of the courthouse, pushing past various security and reporters. They shouted questions, mentioning your badge and asking what side you were testifying for, but ignored them all. Some yelled that you were working for Fisk, you were one of the corrupted agents, but all you offered them was the middle finger.

From there, you ran home. The sun was already setting and you were running out of time. You changed quickly and used your mask to scan as far as it could.

You had finally heard from Rick and you were talking to Seema while wandering the streets.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Seema asked towards the end of the conversation.

“I wish I could tell you for sure… But I can’t. What we’ve done has put a massive target on us and our loved ones. All I know is that yours and Sami’s safety is all he cares about.”

“Tell him I love him.”

“I will. When I find him, he’ll call for goodbyes and then you can send a pin to that number I gave you. After that, ditch the phone.”

It wasn’t until hours later did you find him.

He went home.

You practically sprinted through the neighborhood to get there. The front door was open, side gate cracked, and the police tape was stretched from someone pushing it aside. The house was empty but you could see two figures in the backyard.

“…I can help you cut a deal with the DA.” Ray tried. “We can take him down, us and Y/N.”

Dex gripped his gun tightly, though he hadn’t lifted it yet. His entire body was tense, practically vibrating with the anticipation of what he would do next. There was still a heavy apathy from Dex but there was an undercut of hesitation. Ray was still his friend, and that meant something to him. Not enough to change his mind, but something. Something you might be able to use against him.

“No.. That’s not gonna happen, Ray.” Dex shook his head with a small scoff.

“Dex.” You said carefully, pushing your mask up and lifting your hands in surrender. You walked slowly, putting yourself between the two former friends. “Think about this.”

“Move.” He answered tightly.

“I can help you, if you let me… Don’t make me your enemy, please.”

You tried to emphasize that hesitation but he would shove it back down as soon as it came up.

“I feel more myself than I have in my whole life. Fisk gave me that.”

“This isn’t you talking. This?” You gestured slightly between the two of you. “This is Fisk. He’s gotten in your head, Dex, and he’s turned us against each other. Don’t let him win! ”

“You don’t know me!” He shouted and you instinctively woke your Bite. “See?” He chuckled humorously. “You don’t really trust me.”

“What happened to the man that helped save my life?” You pressed gently with a pleading expression, taking a tentative step forward as you lowered your hands. Your devices still glowed at your wrists and Dex’s grip on his gun shifted. “At the carousel, remember? You rode with me in the ambulance, stayed at the hospital until I woke up. Where’s he?”

“That wasn’t me. It was you. It was your games.” He spat and your brows dropped and your jaw clenched.

“She cared about you, Dex.” Ray said from your side with a hand on your shoulder. “We both did. The only person that changed that was you.”

“Let me help you.” You tried that soft spot again. “I can’t do anything for you after this. I won’t.”

“I don’t care.” He shook his head and you nodded slightly, slowly moving a hand to reach one of the weapons at your belt. “I don’t need your help.”

“As long as I’m alive, my family’s at risk.” Ray admitted, though there was no hesitation.

Sadness, definitely, but it wasn’t any sudden revelation. Instead, it was acceptance. Understanding.

“Ray?” You asked over your shoulder.

“It’ll be alright.”

“Let’s go, Ray.” Dex said, lifting his gun. You sidestepped to put yourself in front of Ray again as you drew your own weapon. “Move, Y/N.”

There was a slight plea in his expression, though his body language didn’t falter.

Something human was left in Dex, some tiny flicker of light. Something like that used to be enough for Matt to believe in, to give them a chance to change. Without him honoring his own prior morals, you realized that was part of why you didn’t give up on Dex.

Not the sex or the friendship. But the hope, hope that months of running around with the altar boy vigilante attached to your hip pinned to your own conscience. The ability to see something good in someone so far off their path. You never understood that ideology until recently but now… Now it felt like that was your own code.

But clearly, the flicker wasn’t enough. And you couldn’t work by someone else’s morality.

“Thought you were good enough to shoot around me.” You taunted as you lined up your own gun.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Dex.” Ray said and you felt that wave of acceptance again. “Whatever you need to do, you do it here.”

Ray had accepted his own death. And the only way you could stop it would be to kill Dex. You turned to face Ray, purposefully putting your body in front of his with the hopes that Dex wouldn’t shoot through.

“We can still get out of this.” You tried, feeling a deep regret settle in your stomach. “I can-“

“And do what, run? I can’t put my family through anything else, Y/N.”

“Ray, please. I can’t bring your family back to you if you’re in a body bag.”

“Hey.” He put a hand on your shoulder. “Just do this the right way, alright?”

“Seema wanted me to te-“

Before you could get the sentence out, the gun fired behind you. The bullet nicked your ear but hit its mark.

You backed away with unsteady legs while Ray fell to the ground with a bullet hole in his forehead. Your gun fell from your hands as you collapsed to your knees. Almost instantly your eyes watered as you stared at the now corpse of your friend. It was almost enough to make you scream as you sat beside the man that risked everything to stand up to Fisk, to stand up for what he believed in. To protect his family.

His family.

Your heart broke for Seema and Sami, and you thought about who would give them the news. The news that you had failed. You didn’t keep him safe.

“She loves you.” You said quietly as your entire body ran cold. “Seema wanted me to tell you she loves you.”

Your hand shook as you reached for your scar and pressed it, sliding along until you heard the dial tone.

“911, what is your emergency?”

“This is.. This is Exodus.” You spoke shakily with your accent, fighting to keep control as the tears fell down your cheeks. “I’m at.. Fisk had him killed. He’s- He’s dead. I need.. I need an ambulance or police or something. Just send someone!”

“Exodus? Okay um…” The line went quiet as the operator spoke to someone else on the side, probably asking advice with a vigilante on the line. “Where are you? Who’s dead?”

“Special-“ Your voice broke. “Special Agent Rahul Nadeem. He shot him in his own backyard.”

“Did you see who killed him?”

“No.. No, he was gone before I got here. I just heard the shot.”

“Okay. We have units en route. Can you stay with Mr.Nadeem until they arrive?”

“No, I- I have to go. They’ll arrest me. I- I have to- I have to go. I can’t be here when they arrive.”

“Wait.”

“He has a wife and a son. Just tell um, tell Detective Brett Mahoney to contact Nadeem’s legal team. Someone has to tell them.”

“Ma’am, please, just wait until-“

“I can’t… I can’t, I’m sorry.”

You ended the call and looked down at Ray.

“I’m sorry, Ray. I’m so sorry.”

You sat back for a moment to pull your knees to your chest. You wrapped your arms around them and rocked slightly as you let yourself cry. You tried to keep the noise down, but small wails left your throat. When you heard the sirens down the street, you had to pull yourself together and collect your gun. With one last look, you hopped the fence and made your way back to the apartment.

You tried to push the guilt away but it came back to gnaw at you. You should’ve just killed Dex. You shouldn’t have tried to reason with him. You should’ve taken him down when you got there. Why did you reveal yourself? Why didn’t you kill him? Why didn’t you do anything?

You had your own ways for a reason. Using Matt’s wouldn’t bring back the man you knew. And it wouldn’t save anyone.

Now Ray was dead and it was your fault.

All you could do was keep moving forward. But there was nothing more Y/N could do. The chance with the law and by the books was over. You wanted to stay on the path, to do things Foggy’s way - the right way - but you were at your wits end. Every time you tried to do things right, you lost. You wouldn’t lose again.

You wouldn’t dress yourself as Exodus to serve a villain. You wouldn’t dress as Exodus to serve the innocent. You would dress for revenge. You would dress to renew the sense of fear that your vigilante persona - just her name - used to invoke. To make Ben Poindexter pay for the lives he took. To make Wilson Fisk pay for the crimes he’d committed. And if they paid with their lives, so be it.

You wouldn’t be nice any longer. Both men had pushed you too far.

Killing people was easy. Making them suffer was an art, and you had spent years developing your craft. You would make them regret the moment you were made their enemy.

You ignored the phone calls from Foggy. His voicemails all said he needed to talk to you and he didn’t want to say it on a message, so you knew Brett told them what happened. Other numbers you didn’t recognize called but you ignored them too. Reporters, you figured.

On your way home, you were distracted by the distinct taste of fear. With a small noise of interest, you followed it. You weren’t necessarily shocked to see Matt was there at the source, but it was a surprise to see him with Felix Manning.

“Should’ve called.” You told him as you got to his side.

“Didn’t have time.” He shrugged with that smirk he always used to have back when you found him when you two didn’t know each other’s identities. When things were a lot simpler. “You hear what happened?“

“To Nadeem? How we fucked it up, again.”

“Yeah.” He answered in a whisper.

You nodded quietly and he frowned slightly. He reached for your arm but you crossed them over your chest and peered over the edge, looking at the knot that held Manning’s ankle. You gave the rope a small shake and the man screamed with a new wave of panic.

“What have you gotten so far?” You turned to Matt, though the mask did little to hide his expression. “Stop looking at me like that.”

He opened his mouth for a joke but you smacked his arm before he could get a word out. He laughed quietly and put his hands up in surrender.

“Fisk’s gathering a bunch of figureheads for a wedding.” Matt explained.

“Vanessa’s gonna marry him?” Your brows furrowed and Matt gave a nonchalant shrug. You leaned over the edge and yelled to Manning. “Do we get an invite?”

All he could do was scream.

“Sounds like a no.” Matt answered and you almost smiled, though Manning’s screams were rather distracting.

You groaned loudly before reaching forward. You made a small pulling motion and felt the fear draw out of him. The yellow smoke came to your hand and swirled up your arm and you felt the tingle down your spine as you absorbed it.

“I can give you something better.” Manning called from the end of the rope.

You hummed in interest and climbed to sit on the ledge, feet kicking idly as Matt sat beside you with his ankles crossed. If it hadn’t been for the man dangling just a few feet down, it would’ve been a nice moment together.

“We’re listening.” Matt said simply.

“I witnessed Ms. Marianna order the murder of Agent Nadeem. And Fisk ordered many!” He shouted and you felt a new wave of anger run down your spine. You ground your teeth and balled your hands into fists. Matt’s hand came up to your jaw and pressed gently on the joint to make you release the tension. You made a small noise and took his hand off your face, holding it between your own and dropping into your lap. “Agent Winn. Julie Barnes. I could testify!”

“Где был этот парень раньше?” You muttered and Matt nudged you with his shoulder. “Мог бы позволить ему умереть вместо Рэя.” (Where was this guy earlier? Could’ve let him die instead of Ray.)

“Будь милым.” Matt said with light amusement in his voice. He knew what happened to Ray upset you and he figured you would blame yourself. But at least your words were what he was used to. “Мы могли бы его использовать.” (Be nice. We could use him.)

“Hang on..” You realized and peered over the edge. “We know Winn and Nadeem. Did you say Julie Barnes?”

“Yes! Yes, he did!”

You let out a laugh in celebration and the sound seemed misplaced in the current situation. That was exactly what you had been waiting for. Confirmation. Confirmation of the one thing that could snap Dex, in every sense of the word. Confirmation that Julie Barnes, the woman that he had been obsessing over since before you met him, was dead and that Fisk was to blame.

“Help me get him up.” You told Matt quickly as you climbed back to the roof.

“Why?” Matt asked, though he followed suit.

“Ты хотел подтолкнуть Декса на грань? Вот как мы это делаем.” You answered quickly and he nodded quietly. (You wanted to push Dex to the brink? This is how we do it.)

You got Manning to tell you everything you needed to know about Julie. How she was killed. Where she was killed. Where her body currently was. Everything you needed to throw in Dex’s face and break whatever was left.

A day or two later, you were standing at a press conference at the bureau. It was an official statement regarding Ray and Agent Winn’s deaths. Hattley claimed Ray was mentally unstable, that Karen was a liar and the alleged 911 call from Exodus was fake. You almost laughed when Hattley had to redirect questions about Exodus finding the body, but she admitted it was an agent who killed him, under the guise of self-defense.

You tried to duck out of the office following the press conference but a hand wrapped around your arm tightly. You let out a small wince when you were yanked back before you were redirected and pushed towards one of the conference rooms. You were able to yank your arm free just outside the door, where you saw Seema sitting inside.

“What the hell is this?” You asked sharply as you spun on Dex. “You wanna rub salt in her wounds?”

“She came to us, said she wants to see Ray’s lawyers.” He explained simply.

“So what?”

“So call them.”

“Why? So you can put a bullet in them too?”

“If you don’t, I’ll put a bullet in you.”

“You should’ve done it last time. Too late now.”

“Really wanna do this here?” His brows raised. You glanced around, noting the mostly empty hall. The only other agents were ones you remembered seeing at that meeting. You were outnumbered and while you could likely handle the ordeal, a shoot out in the office wasn’t something you wanted to instigate with everything else you had going on. “You’re so paranoid, Y/N/N. I’ll call him myself. Not like anyone’s gonna hurt him.” Dex smirked and began to back away.

“Dex.” You called out and he paused, allowing you to move closer. “Are you happy now? Ray’s dead. Seema and Sami are alone. Fisk is getting married. Daredevil’s image is shot… Is that what you wanted?”

He chuckled weakly and nodded. “I thought all this empathy crap was done.”

You gave a weak shrug. It wasn’t even an attempt to change his mind. It was just you being an asshole. “One last shot, I guess… Maybe you were right after all. You don’t love me, not anymore at least. You’re incapable of loving anyone, of feeling anything.”

“Careful, Y/N. You’re getting predictable.” He tapped a finger under your chin and left.

You huffed a sigh and shot a quick text to Foggy, asking him to come to the bureau. You headed back to the main office and began busying yourself with some paperwork until your friend arrived.

A sharp whistle drew your attention and you looked up to see Dex waving you over. You got to his side as Foggy lifted his phone to take a picture, one you were just in time to smile for.

“Posted to my campaign webpage, and the tens of thousands of police officers that know that I’m here. With you. Helping.” Foggy said firmly and you tried to hide the proud smile.

“Relax, Mr. Nelson. You’re not in any danger.” Dex said lowly, a hand landing on your lower back that you almost jumped away from. “Agent Y/L/N even came to help put you at ease.”

You jammed an elbow into his ribs and he laughed slightly.

“Besides, you’ll be very useful when you’re the next district attorney.”

“Why am I here?” Foggy looked to you.

“Because you and Ray were friends.” Dex answered instead and you rolled your eyes.

“If you’re expecting him to answer questions, it’ll break privilege, even if the client’s dead.” You explained.

“I’m not asking him to.” It was Dex’s turn to roll his eyes. “Follow me.”

Dex led you and Foggy back to the room where you saw Seema waiting. You wanted to offer her a sincere apology, to comfort her and admit that it was your fault Ray was dead, but Hattley’s presence made you keep those thoughts to yourself.

“We’ll give you the room. Take all the time you need.” Hattley said after a brief exchange between Dex and Seema.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” You managed and she looked at you with slight tears in her eyes. “Ray was a good man.”

Dex’s hand fit tightly to your elbow and he dragged you away. You all left Foggy with Seema and stepped back into the hall.

“Suck it up.” Dex sneered.

“I’m only doing this because I have to.” Hattley snapped back before the two split ways. You let out a sigh and headed back to your desk.

You decided you were going to leave again at lunch, figuring your time at that job was limited anyway so why be a good agent anymore. You had just dropped into your chair, a small cloud of blue proofing out as you did, when Dex grabbed your arm and hauled you away again. You sucked in a breath between gritted teeth and you knew there’d be a bruise there by the end of the day. When you two got to a secluded area, he pushed you against the wall and put his call on speaker. He held a hand against your mouth and your brows furrowed, though you showed no other reaction. You decided against fighting back, knowing it would be more trouble than it was worth.

Plus, you were intrigued.

“I’ve got some free time now. Why don’t we meet up?” Dex said, keeping eye contact with you while pressing that forearm against your chest near your throat as a threat.

“I have a question.” Matt’s voice came from the other side and your eyes went a bit wider. Dex offered a slight smirk as he caught your expression. “Did you enjoy the feeling you got when you killed those birdies? Is that why you’re still killing?”

“Birdies?”

“The ones you killed with rocks. I bet it felt good at first, right?”

“Stop.” You tried, your voice muffled from behind Dex’s hand and he pushed your head to bang against the wall.

“Then it’s never the same after that.”

You put one hand on his chest and the other on his wrist and tried to push Dex off. He growled slightly and pressed harder, causing you to release a small noise when the pressure hit your chest and then a sharp sensation erupted from your still healing stab wound.

“Who was that?” Matt asked suddenly.

“Your little girlfriend.” Dex taunted and you struggled against him, but he leaned into you with more of his body weight. “She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she? ‘Specially when she’s helpless.”

“What do you think Dr. Mercer would say if she could see you now?” Matt continued and you sighed. You wondered if he was purposefully not showing a reaction or if it just didn’t bother him.

You leaned back into the wall and Dex noticed your shift away from him. Dex’s eyes darted between yours but you knew yours were empty. There was no feeling behind your eyes when you looked at Dex, and he recognized that. He recognized that you no longer saw him the same.

Slowly he leaned away but held a finger to his lips to gesture for you to keep quiet. Maybe it actually hurt him for you to give up on him.

Good.

“Got a second?” He spoke finally. “I need a tissue for all the tears I’m crying over my shitty childhood.”

“Have you heard from your friend Julie lately?”

“Что ты делаешь?” You whispered as your brows furrowed, trying to figure out Matt’s plan. You two had talked about bringing it up to Dex together so you could guarantee neither of you were at risk. Why do it now? (What are you doing?)

“You wanna talk to Dr. Mercer, asshole? Keep talking. Or I could send your girlfriend instead.”

“What do you think she’d say if she knew about the innocent people you killed?” Matt continued. “I bet she’d be disappointed, Dex.”

“If she was still alive.” You mumbled.

Dex’s attention snapped to you and a hand was quick to come around your throat to force you back against the wall. The air left your lungs while his hand gripped you tighter and you cursed Matt for starting problems.

“If you hurt Julie-“ He threatened lowly and lifted so your feet could barely reach the ground.

“I never touched her.” You choked out. “She was innocent.”

“Did he?”

“Fisk had her killed. He knew what she meant to you so he killed her, gave himself a chance to replace her as your North Star.” You answered quickly.

He was quiet for a moment while he took in your expression. When he believed you weren’t lying, he eased off.

“When he realized he couldn’t kill me, he went after her… She was an easy mark. I'm sorry. There was nothing I could do.” You added while rubbing your tender throat and he gave a slow nod.

“Don’t tell me that’s sympathy in your voice, Ex.” Matt said.

“Shut up.” You snapped quickly.

“Don’t feel bad for a guy who’s tried to kill us both, multiple times.”

“Shut. Up. It’s not about him.”

“You should stick to beating on people in alleys, cause you’re not gonna get in my head.” Dex said tightly, though you could feel something underlying in his words. It almost felt like.. grief.

Maybe there was something more than a flicker left in Dex. But that wouldn’t change anything. It couldn’t.

“You don’t have to believe us.. Then again, you may wanna ask how I got Manning’s phone.”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Dex answered sharply.

“Julie wouldn’t approve of your killing people, Dex.”

“Stop. Saying. Her name.” Dex practically growled. The familiar heart of his rage hit you. The soft spot he had for you may have faded away, but he’d always feel a certain way for Julie.

“You said you got some free time? You may wanna check out 16 Canal Place.”

“Why?”

The line cut out after that. Dex slowly turned to face you and your sidestepped carefully to ensure your back was no longer against the wall.

“What’s at Canal Place?” He asked tightly.

“Julie…” You answered quietly. Beneath the surface you were adding to the pressure of his anger, trying to break him. “I’m sorry, Dex. I know she was important to you.”

“What the hell is your deal?” He asked angrily and you took another step back. “What- What- What do you gain from all of this?”

“I had no part in this.” You countered firmly, forgetting about your game for a moment. “All of this-“ You gestured between you two. “-was done without me knowing.”

“Bullshit.” He scoffed.

“I wouldn’t taunt you with this. You know me better than that.”

“Do I?”

“Don’t believe me then.” You shrugged. “I don’t care anymore. I tried being nice, didn’t work. I tried being a bitch, kind of working. I tried empathy, didn’t work.” You pushed past him.

“Where are you going?” He called after you.

“Away from you.”

That night, you took a trip to Canal Place dressed in your latest, modified vigilante costume - compression shirt and vest. You still hadn’t patched your full suit and top. You arrived a few minutes ahead of Dex, but he wasn’t your point. You made your way to the roof and found Matt already there. You made sure to keep your distance, knowing you’d punch him in the teeth if you got too close.

“Wanna tell me what the hell that was on the phone?” You asked simply.

“I knew he wasn’t gonna hurt you.” Matt reasoned as he pulled the black mask off.

“That’s not the point. We were gonna do it together.”

“I needed to make sure.”

“Of what?”

“That you hadn’t gone soft.”

“So you play with my life?”

“C’mon, Y/N/N.” He scoffed. “He wasn’t gonna kill you.”

“The bruise around my neck says otherwise.” You countered angrily.

His body language shifted and you saw the flex of his hand. He ran a stressed hand over his mouth before he spoke again.

“You said it yourself. He loves you.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“That’s not what-“

“Well I was wrong.” You cut in quickly.

“You’re never wrong about this stuff.”

“You think that excuses any of that?” You laughed and moved closer. “You think that excuses you pushing him when I’m the one that would’ve had to deal with the fallout?”

“You could’ve protected yourself if he tried anything.”

“So that’s it? You put me in the line of fire and taunt the most unstable man I’ve ever met, just because you can? Just because I can fight back.”

“Were you honestly afraid?” He asked carefully, head cocking in interest.

You thought about the interaction and didn’t remember feeling afraid. In fact, you felt completely in control without touching your abilities in that regard.

“He felt something.” You said instead. “When you talked about Julie… Grief.”

“So what?”

“So that means there might still be something worth saving in him. That used to be what you stood for, Matt. That chance used to be enough.”

“Oh come on.” He scoffed. “What happened to the woman that was ready to kill him?”

“And what happened to the man that didn’t wanna kill anyone? What happened to the altar boy that believed everyone could change, that just a small piece of goodness was enough for another chance? Where’s the man from that rooftop with Frank, who had a gun to his head, but still insisted on preaching about giving people a chance to change?”

“What do you want me to do, huh?” He asked loudly. “You want me to- to take the guy to therapy? Hold his hand and promise it’ll be okay? The guy’s psycho! And he’s dangerous.”

Your remark was cut off by a loud scream. A sound of pure agony that you almost swore was accompanied by the sharp sound of a snap and a shaky wave of heat. It was an uneven, broken feeling that had bits of cold air weaved in between. It was as if the anger was cracking and the sadness was patching the gaps.

You turned to face Matt again but he was already holding a ringing phone in front of him. You took a few steps closer.

“When I find you…” Dex threatened lowly.

“Like we said, Fisk killed her and we all know it.” Matt countered smoothly.

“Think about it, Dex.” You added on. “Who got Julie the job in the hotel, right after the detail starts? Who started following you? It’s all been Fisk.”

“You let him turn you into a murderer!” Matt kept going. You knew you should stop him, that he was pushing too hard. You started to feel a bit of regret for what you had to do to Dex, but you also knew you needed him to turn against Fisk.

Besides, you didn’t owe him anything anymore.

“He wasn’t gonna let someone like Julie get in the way of that.” You offered, gentler than the venom Matt spoke with.

“Why are you telling me this?” Dex asked lamely, as if everything he had - everything that mattered - was gone. And for him, maybe it was.

“Aw, Dex..” You said quietly, more to yourself than either of the boys. Matt scoffed lightly and stepped away, adding a comment about Fisk and the wedding before ending the call.

“You can’t tell me that you really care about him still.” Matt said angrily. “After everything he’s done to us.”

“I’m allowed to feel bad for ruining a man’s entire mental state just to take down a different man.” You answered sarcastically. “Regardless if I care about him or not.”

“You didn’t ruin that guy. There was hardly anything to ruin.”

“There used to be..”

“Who’s side are you on, Y/N? Because you can’t have everything.”

“No, but I can remember the guy he was before. Matt, he helped save my life, kept me from bleeding out on the way to the hospital.”

“That makes up for everything. Why didn’t you mention it sooner?” He offered sarcastically.

“Why are you so bitter?” You shouted. “You have everyone back and it’s still not enough.”

He simply shook his head.

“Why are you so hell bent on destroying him?”

“He killed Father Lantom!” Matt screamed, new anger rolling off him. “But that doesn’t matter, right? Because he lost someone too.”

“That’s not what I’m saying! I cared about Lantom, too.”

“Not like I did.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that, but-“

“But nothing. Just because you slept with him doesn’t make him worth anything.”

“Say that again.” You said lowly, your head tilting with a slight challenge. Your muscles tightened and your hands flexed as you crossed your arms to wake the devices around your wrists. “I dare you.”

He sighed heavily and lifted his hands in surrender.

“Y’know, you’re making it so hard to want to help you. And at this point, I don’t know if you’re doing it on purpose or if you are just that pathetic now.”

“I’m pathetic… Okay.” He mumbled with a scoff before turning away from you.

“I may be a bitch and I may be a killer, but at least I don’t willingly treat people that love me like shit. At least I feel bad when I’ve hurt someone I used to care about… But I guess you just don’t care anymore, right? You left your conscience under Midland, right?”

“You know that’s not true.” He sighed, almost visibly deflating. “I’m doing this because I-“

“Don’t give me that shit.” You cut in firmly, taking quick strides to stand in front of him. “I’m so goddamn tired of that excuse from you, Matt.” Your finger jammed into his chest. “You’re not protecting anyone by being an asshole.. All you’re doing is becoming exactly what you want to protect this city from. You’re becoming what Exodus used to be. Now I look like the soft one. The weak one.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to! Jesus Christ, how many times do we have to have this same conversation before it gets through your head?” You tapped his temple quickly before pushing his head away.

“I understand that we’re different now. I never said we could go back to what we were. You’re the one who said you can’t have both.”

“I never said that.”

“In the van with Ray. You said that you had to give up certain people and you looked right at me.”

“For the love of..” You muttered before a disbelieving laugh. “I wasn’t saying that I wanted to give you up. I meant that you gave us up. You won’t let yourself have it both ways.”

“Right, because you’re not one to self-sabotage to try torture yourself? You- You don’t ruin anything good in your life to try and make up for all the bad shit you’ve done?”

You stood in silence for a moment, mouth opening to defend yourself but your voice keeping quiet. You wanted to talk back, to tell him that he was an idiot. You wanted to scold him for not truly understanding why you had done everything you had, why you had sabotaged so many relationships in the past. But that was what he wanted. He wanted to keep egging you on that way, maybe you’d be pissed off enough to be like the old you. The one who was so angry with the way the world was that you were going to kill anyone you thought would fix it. And as tempting as it was, as justified as you felt your anger would be, someone needed to keep a level head.

But also, it wasn’t for his sake. It was Ray’s voice lingering in the back of your mind, serving as the safety on your otherwise unrelenting trigger finger.

Just do this the right way, alright?

“Whatever. Think what you want about me.” You shrugged and your devices disarmed. He must’ve heard the current shut off because his brows raised with interest. “I’m gonna go patch my suit and head to the Presidential. If I see you, you better have your goddamn head on straight.”

“Держись подальше от меня сегодня вечером.” He said simply, causing a small scoff from your chest. (Stay out my way tonight.)

“Забавно. Я собирался сказать тебе то же самое.” (Funny. I was going to tell you the same thing.)

You headed home after that, ignoring whatever snarky comment he made when you turned your back. You got home quickly and pulled your suit from the closet. It was the first time you had seen it since the attack on the church. The blood was still soaked into the fabric, the gaping hole in the center. It brought you back to that night and the scar on your stomach burned.

You pushed through it and gave it a thorough wash before repairing the damage, not perfectly but enough to get through the night. You fit it in place and zipped the familiar top over it. As you were sliding your gloves on, you found the small insignias you had carved into the forearm plates. A small skull and two overlapping D’s.

Matt and Frank, Punisher and Daredevil. The two men that were able to sneak through your guards and understand who you were. The two men who knew what you stood for and stood beside you.

The two most important people left in your life.

You fit the rest of your equipment on; boots, Bites, belt, staff pack, and mask. You thought a lot on your way to the hotel. You thought about your relationships with Dex and Matt.

There was no way to repair the damage between you and Dex. You wouldn’t be friends or anything romantic when the night ended. The latter you could deal with, but losing the former was a bit of a bummer. Dex was damaged and your influence probably made it worse. You had a hand in breaking whatever structure and balance Dex had. You used him as a pawn in your game with Fisk and he was ultimately the one to suffer.

You and Matt had been back and forth since he came back. One night he’s begging you to stay and the next he tries to make you the bad guy for being human - for being exactly what he wanted you to be when you had first met. Despite that, despite his uncharacteristic bloodlust as of late, you couldn’t turn your back on him.

You still loved him, after all.

You moved through the parking garage with ease. You came across an abandoned SUV and when you went to check it, you instantly regretted it. In the passenger seat sat Julie’s frozen corpse.

“We really did it this time, didn’t we?” You mumbled to yourself before you heard the groans of the nearby agent on the ground. You moved to his side and grabbed his face to turn him towards you.

“Where’d he go?” You asked firmly, to which he continued his pained sounds. “Where is Poindexter?” You urged again.

He pointed weakly towards the door to the stairwell so you left him on the floor and began your climb. As you climbed, you called Matt.

But he didn’t answer.

You tapped your mask to track the microphone you had left him with and saw he was already a few levels ahead of you. You blew out a sigh and decided to call Foggy instead.

“Hey.” He said with a relieved sigh. “Please tell me-“

“He’s already here.. They both are.” You cut in as you leaned over the bar to angle a shot for your wire towards one of the higher railings. “I’m on my way to them.”

“You have to stop him, Ex.”

You smiled to yourself as your wire looped around the metal. You climbed over and began a quicker ascend.

“Well I’ve tried that, a lot, and it’s not working.” You said simply, mentally counting off floors as you passed. “We need to try something different.”

“Like what?”

“Like a bluff.”

“A bluff?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay… I’m not following.”

“Clearly.” You mumbled as you swung your feet over the final railing. “What I’m saying is what if I stay out of his way.”

“You wanna let him do it?”

“You really think he will?” You asked simply as you unwrapped and tucked away your wire.

“Right now, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“The guy we know is still in there.. I know it sounds crazy but it’ll work. He wouldn’t know whether I mean it or not. He can’t read me the way he reads everyone else. I don’t let him.”

He was quiet for a moment, likely getting Karen’s opinion.

“But what if it doesn’t work? What if.. we lose him forever?”

“You gotta trust me.”

“I do but… Is it worth the risk of losing him?”

“I get it. But I don’t see any other option. He has to see for himself that he’s too good to do it.”

“If he can’t, are you going to?”

“Not unless I have to.”

“Will you stop him?”

“I don’t know.”

You ended the call, not allowing any other argument from Foggy. Instead, you pushed into the hall and practically sprinted to the ceremony. As you were coming up on the doors, your implant picked up on Ray’s voice. You didn’t know what it was, some sort of deathbed confession maybe, but it made your chest tight.

As you moved, you passed agent after agent on the ground. Labored breathing or groans of pain came from the bodies and you were moderately relieved that they weren’t dead. At least he had some restraint left, whichever one did all of it.

“I’d like to make a toast.” Dex said shakily from the stage as you entered the ballroom. “Julie and I wish you the absolute best.”

Dex pulled back to throw the microphone so you sprung into action. A serving tray came flying in front of Fisk and the microphone bounced off as you were passing by. Dex looked between you and who you assumed was Matt. You noticed his attention on something behind you and you turned just in time to see the agents lift their guns.

You dropped to the floor and ducked behind one of the tables. When the shots faltered you came out and hopped the table. With both hands on the surface, you kicked out and sent one agent falling into the one behind him. You took a disc from your belt and tossed it, highly charged bolts shooting out of the small device at the two agents. They fell with tight convulsions before Dex threw silverware that landed in their necks.

Matt took off and you were quick to follow him, leaving Dex and the remaining agents in the ballroom. The gunshots echoed throughout the halls as you ran and it sent a chill down your spine.

You noticed the annoyed shake of Matt’s head but you said nothing. You followed him up to the room that covered Fisk’s control center.

He burst in first with you close behind. He acted quickly and threw one of the men towards you. You reacted instantly and pulled a staff. You had to duck his flailing arms so you swung the weapon to knock his legs from under him. Once the agent fell to his back, you slammed the weapon against his temple. You flicked out the blade and moved at the agent Matt threw to the sofa.

Acting quickly, you slammed the blade through his shoulder and pin him to the furniture while you woke your Bites. Aiming one at the man beside you and one over Matt’s shoulder, you fired both and the men fell limp.

As Matt spoke to the woman, you recollected your weapon and placed it back in the pack.

“Подожди.” You called as Matt was headed to the stairs. (Wait.)

“Don’t try to stop me either, Ex.” He said tightly.

“Я не собирался.” You offered but he turned away from you. You groaned and moved forward, grabbing his arm to force him to stay put. “Я просто хотел сказать, что я с тобой... Что бы ты ни решил сделать.” (I wasn’t going to. I just wanted to say that I’m with you… Whatever you decide to do.)

“Правда?” He asked carefully, a hand handing on your arm and his fingers landing between the plates. “И если я действительно убью его?” (Really? And if I actually kill him?)

You gave a small smile as your other hand landed on his chest, right over his heart. You heard the door close as the woman ran off.

“Whatever you decide.” You said honestly.

He offered a small smirk before taking his hand off your arm and moving it to your neck. Before you could voice a question, his opposite hand slid the zipper down a few inches so the fingers on your neck could move under the collar of your suit.

“Tell me one more time.” He said lowly and for just a second, it was like old times. “Just to be sure.”

With a small smile, you let your meticulous control drop. For the first time in months, you were completely vulnerable. Every emotion, every physiological reaction, every tell you could possibly have, it was all on the table for Matt to read. And he knew it.

“I’m on your side, Matty. No matter what.” You said truthfully. And you knew the night would end in a way that favored you and your friends.

He gave a small smile and let out a sigh of relief. His hand went to the back of your neck and he pulled you closer. The other arm looped around your waist and your arms came loosely around him.

You fixed your mental guards and allowed a moment to survey what Matt was feeling. There was tension in his muscles, likely anticipatory for what was to come once you entered that suite. He was determined but also worried. There was an underlying excitement, the subtle type he always seemed to get before a fight. There was also a hint of confusion.

That was what you were looking for. Something to pull to the surface that could interfere with his initial plans.

Slipping a mental hook into that feeling, you pulled away and tapped his arm to follow you. You moved up the stairs and zipped your shirt the rest of the way up. When you hit the door to the suite, you woke your Bites and gripped one of your blades tightly. Matt’s hand landed on your lower back and when you turned to him, he gave you a quick nod.

You took a steadying breath before opening the door and walking in, ensuring your head was high as Matt followed behind you. As you entered the hall, Fisk and Vanessa came from the other end.

The tension in the air grew thicker with every breath. Fisk’s eyes went wide for a minute, flicking to the gleaming blade in your hand and the ominous red glow of your favored devices. Vanessa swallowed hard and took a fearful step back to try and hide behind her new husband.

“It’s over.” Matt said lowly, the familiar gravelly voice of the Devil coming through.

“Run.” Fisk said to Vanessa, pushing her back the way they came.

“This ends.” You warned with words tinted in your accent.

Fisk snarled slightly before bracing himself. Matt shifted beside you and your stance widened while you shifted your weight to your toes. They screamed at each other before they charged, Matt slamming into Fisk with enough force for them both to crash into something in the bedroom. You hurried in the same direction and caught Vanessa trying to race down the stairs.

You wouldn’t kill her, only sparing her life to fulfill your promise to Ray, but you’d have some fun in the meantime.

You flung your knife and watched the tip bury itself in her dress and pin it to the floor. As you were coming around the ledge, Matt and Fisk crashed through the wall. You were going to intervene but Matt fought back so you turned back to Vanessa.

You gripped the railings on either side and kicked both feet into her side. The sharp rip of fabric sounded as she tumbled down the stairs with loud exclamations. You recollected your blade and hopped the railing to follow her just as Matt sent Fisk tumbling the same way.

You landed in time to see Vanessa backing away from the door, a familiar bitter taste settling in your tongue. You spit on the floor in an effort to clear it but it lingered as you saw Dex enter the room.

You groaned inwardly as your small crowd seemed to freeze at his appearance. When it seemed no one else would move, you did. You moved around the table to put yourself in front of the bride.

As you rounded the table, you placed a hand on the ledge to allow you room to spin your legs and connect both feet with Dex’s jaw. He reached angrily for you but you threw yourself backwards. From the far end of the table, you saw Matt land from the upper level and move in against Dex.

You slid off the table and dropped to a low crouch. You snuck beside Vanessa and kicked her legs from underneath her. You pinned a knee against her chest and aimed one of your devices. You angled for a well-placed shot that would hurt but not kill her, only to be thrown off by Matt’s off balance body.

You groaned in annoyance and shoved your partner off you. In your own lull of action, you heard Fisk and Dex going at it from the other end of the room. You paused for a second to watch, only to realize that your former partner had little to no defense against Fisk. The best he could do was evade and try to put distance and gain an advantage.

He was sloppy, uncaring even. He wasn’t just broken. He has completely fallen apart.

You looked between a still fallen Vanessa and the quick paced fight ahead and decided on something more exciting. When Fisk threw Dex against the stairs, you inserted yourself.

You grabbed both staffs before getting to the side of Fisk. You stepped up the railing and reached around his neck to cross both sticks. You quickly moved your feet to be on the back end of the plexiglass and extended the limbs, holding tight with your staffs to pull the man off Dex. His ragged coughs drew an old, sadistic smile from you and the manic daze you knew all too well began to cloud your mind.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Dex stand and attempt to charge at you and Fisk. With a quick move, you jumped the railing and dug an elbow into Fisk’s spine for stability. When Dex was close enough, you slammed both feet into his chest. The impact sent him stumbling through the glass behind him and you were pushed the other direction.

When you hit the ground, you released the cross of your staffs and snuck between Fisk’s legs. You hooked a stick around either ankle and pulled forward as you slid your other leg through so you would spin to face him as he fell to his back. One staff was returned to the pack as you flicked out the long blade of the other.

“Ты больше никому не обидишь” You said simply and you placed a foot on his stomach. (You’ll never hurt anyone else again.)

You gripped your weapon with both hands and lifted it high above your head, the tip of the blade on a direct path to his chest. You let out a loud scream, one born out of pent up rage and pain that seemed to add heat to the blade in your hand, while you began to drive the knife down.

As your blade was mere inches from penetrating, you were slammed into from your side. The collision sent you rolling and your staff clattered from your hands. You heard the commotion continue and you pushed yourself to your elbows to see Fisk and Matt back in a fight, Matt getting body slammed through the table.

For a second, you hoped it would knock some sense into him. But that thought was shortly entertained because you were yanked to your feet by your hair.

You were spun roughly and a hand fit your throat, backing you up until you hit the wall. You let out a manic laugh when you saw it was Dex.

“Was it worth it?” You sneered. “Killing Julie.”

“I didn’t kill her.” He nearly screamed in your face before slamming you back again.

“But you did.” You nodded fervently. “If you didn’t try to make her love you-“

His free hand collided with the brick near your head and you acted quickly.

You grabbed the wrist around your throat and braced a foot at the bend of his hip. Your thumb dug into the space between bones at his wrist and he winced as his grip faltered. You stepped up using his own leg as leverage and hooked the other leg around his shoulder. You balled one fist in the suit material of the base of his neck and pulled to reveal enough skin that you could wedge you let Bite against. You fired the device and he yelled loudly while his hands gripped the back of your knees.

He slammed your body into the hard brick wall and you coughed roughly as the impact sent a jolt through the old fracture in your ribs. He pulled back to slam you again but you pulled the foot you had against his leg to flatten against the wall and change the angle of your body.

You slid your hands to grip the suit before kicking off and throwing yourself to the floor while Dex landed beside you. You quickly knelt on top of Dex and landed heavy hits to his face, forcing head to bounce off the ground. One of his hands were flailing to find something to use as a weapon and before you could block, he found your other staff and swung it at your jaw. You fell off and got to your hands and knees before he threw your staff at the glass chandelier above where Matt and Fisk were fighting.

Matt was quick to get out of the way, which left Fisk vulnerable to Dex’s barrage of attacks. You hurried over to the wreckage and recollected your staff before you decided what to do next. Dex’s focus shifted to Matt, which allowed you to go after Fisk. You turned to find him and saw him give Vanessa his jacket, a product of Melvin’s handiwork you assumed.

She met your eyes in a panic as you jumped the couch and began your assault. You alternated your hits, switching hands and angles. You mixed in body shots and elbows and knees. Vanessa’s hand landed on your shoulder and you reacted almost instantly.

You grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm outwards. You hooked a foot behind her ankle and slammed your other arm against her chest to knock her to the floor. She coughed heavily from the impact and you reached down for your knife. You smiled as you pressed the tip against the underside of her chin.

“You had Ray killed.” You spoke lowly, a heavy venom dripping from your accented words. “I should kill you for it.”

“But you won’t?” She managed, jerking under your weight in a desperate attempt to get you off of her.

“I do enjoy revenge.” Your head tilted as you pierced the skin slightly and you watched the steady stream of blood across her skin. “But using you to torture him is much more fun.”

You heard Fisk’s heavy footsteps behind you so you moved quickly. You quickly jumped to your feet and dragged Vanessa up with you, locking an arm around her throat while other held the tip of the knife against her sternum,

“Let her go, Y/N.” Fisk said carefully, hands out in front as if to soothe a wild animal. “She’s done nothing.”

“You consider Rahul Nadeem nothing?” You spoke sharply, pressing the knife a bit harder to hear a sharp gasp from Vanessa. “What do you say, hmm? A life for a life.”

“You don’t trade lives!”

“Исход делает.” You shrugged. (Exodus does.)

The loud shatter of glass beside you stole your attention for a second, but it was all Fisk needed. He yanked your hand away from his wife’s chest and pushed her away. With a tight grip on your wrist, he bent it back to point your own knife back at you. He backed you against the wall and you had to use your other hand to keep your own weapon away. His fingers locked around your own, not allowing you to drop your blade.

With a sly smile, you allowed your powers to reach out to the boys that came crashing through the window moments ago. You found that soft spot they both had for you, one was much easier to find than the other, and you yanked it to the surface. You projected a fear, a helplessness, while refusing to break eye contact with Fisk,

“You have no power here.” You said quietly as you heard the glass shifting. “You’ll lose.”

“Not until I’ve buried you.” He spoke roughly, pushing the knife again and you felt the tip poking through your suit and into your shoulder.

“I’m not afraid to die.”

You let your other hand drop and the knife pierced your shoulder completely with a sharp cry of pain. At the same time, two glass shards came flying in and punctured his abdomen. You offered a salute to Dex as a way of thanking him before Matt began an offense against him again. You turned back to Fisk as he pulled the bloody glass out.

You made a small noise of interest as you moved in, momentarily forgetting about the knife in you. You threw a sharp kick at the open wound and he cried out. You laughed slightly and kicked again. And again.

You reached forward and pressed your knuckles against the wound and watched the blood spurt across your hand. You pulled back and grabbed the man by his face, the other grabbing his shirtfront, and slammed him to the ground.

“You’re pathetic.” You sneered. “You’re nothing without your toys.”

You saw Dex fall from the corner of your eye and when you glanced, you saw him already locked in on Vanessa. You groaned to yourself and pushed off Fisk, hurrying up the stairs to yank Vanessa out of the way. The ceramic ashtray flew by your heads and shattered against the wall. You gripped Vanessa by her throat and threw her back against the plexiglass, leaning a knee into her chest to pin her down.

You turned back to the fight in time to see Fisk slam Dex into the corner of the brick. Your pressure on Vanessa eased slightly as something dropped heavy into the pit of your stomach. You shifted the glow to your Bites to blue and slid your knee over to allow a clearer shot to her chest.

Once Matt and Fisk found each other again, you hopped down the stairs and knelt on Dex’s chest. Your other foot pressed on his shoulder as you drew your gun. You pressed the barrel under his chin and he gasped for air beneath you.

Something was wrong. You knew it immediately, before you even got close to Dex. As your weight was bearing down on him, you were tense as you waited for a response. You waited for him to try and throw you off, to pull a knife or a gun of his own. You expected him to toss you around like a rag doll, only for you to come back at him relentlessly. But he did nothing…

“Fight back.” You demanded softly, your voice seemingly gone.

“Y/- Y/N.” He choked out.

The cold seemed to radiate from his chest and stick to the fabric pressed against him. There was regret, likely stemming from whatever injury the impact caused, and sadness. He truly had nothing and he finally understood that, laying on the ground with his former partner pressing a gun to his head.

“Dammit, Poindexter. Fight. Back”. You pressed the gun harder.

“Can’t.” He managed weakly.

You stood slowly, keeping a foot on his wrist and your gun aimed while the other hand hit your mask’s side button. You glanced over his body and saw the complete shatter of his vertebrae.

“You owe whatever pathetic life you have left to Ray… I won't offer this mercy again.” You said simply.

“Stop it, please!” Vanessa shouted desperately.

You turned quickly and saw Matt had Fisk on his knees and was pounding on him. You turned the aim of your gun on Vanessa and moved to stand beside Matt. Despite looking away from the woman, your gun stayed up as you faced Matt and yanked your blade from your shoulder.

His hands were positioned to finish it, to snap Fisk’s neck. You found yourself frozen in place as you waited for what he would do next. Part of you, the part manufactured from the Red Room, wanted to see him do it. You wanted to corrupt the Devil, to bloody his hands in a way he’d never clear.

But the more important part, the part you thought you had lost a long time ago, knew you didn’t want to see him do it. Seeing him do it would make it too real and it would change the way he saw himself and the way you would see him. The things that made him Matt Murdock would break if he did it.

Yet you did nothing. Not until he screamed. A sound of pure rage and agony that was paired with a blast of searing heat. Matt fell to his knees at your feet, reaching for your hand. But before he could take it, Fisk’s words drew your action.

“I will never stop hunting Karen Page or Foggy Nelson.” He warned, though there was defeat in his words.

You moved to stand in front of him and placed the gun against his forehead. He simply glared up at you, covered in his own blood. “I will tell the world who both of you really are.”

“I don’t care about the world.” You spat back, pressing your knee against his chest to knock him into the wall. You leaned your weight down and he coughed as the bony part of your leg dug into his sternum. “It has taken enough from me… You don’t get to do that anymore.”

“Wilson.” Vanessa tried from the other end of the room.

“Vanessa, please go. Please!” He shouted around you.

You turned quickly and fired a shot at Vanessa’s feet, to which she jumped back and screamed. You pressed the now hot barrel back to its prior position as Matt got to his feet.

“You.. You want us to kill you.” Matt realized through heavy breaths.

“No prison can keep me.” Fisk taunted and you had to grind your teeth. “You know that… Come on, kill me! Isn’t that what you always wanted, Exodus?”

Your trigger finger itched but Matt spoke before you could act.

“No!” Matt yelled in response. You made a face to yourself and knew you should pull the gun back you didn’t, not even when Matt came to your side to yell at Fisk. “God knows I want to, but you don’t get to destroy who I am.”

You almost smiled in relief, but the thump of worry lived in the back of your mind. You could feel Vanessa’s concern for Fisk, her worry that he would die in front of her. Her helplessness plagued you like a magnet to metal and for a moment, you remembered when you felt the same way.

When Luke dragged you to the elevator without Matt. When Fisk said Matt’s name in front of other agents.

“You will go back to prison and you will live the rest of your miserable life in a cage, knowing you’ll never have Vanessa. That this city rejected you, it beat you. We beat you!” Matt demanded and you were proud he found a way back to himself.

“You will keep our secrets.” You spoke simply, putting your gun away to yank the man to the ground. You flicked one of your shock discs at him and pressed a foot against his broad chest. You leaned into your foot and twisted to ensure the small circle engaged and he groaned loudly as you heard the electricity crackle while you leaned the entirety of your weight against him. Matt knelt beside you and lifted his mask before he spoke.

“And you won’t harm Karen Page or Foggy Nelson or anyone else.”

“If you try it, I will go after your wife. And I will prove that she ordered the murder of Agent Rahul Nadeem. And if she’s lucky, she’ll spend the rest of her life in a cell, same as her miserable excuse of a husband.”

You stepped off his chest and tapped Matt’s arm before taking a few steps away. Matt replaced his mask and came to your side as Vanessa inched closer, her uncertainty coming off in shaky waves.

“Thank you.” She said shakily, reaching for your hand.

“I didn’t do it for either of you.” You said sharply. “And I will not extend this mercy again, to any of you.”

She nodded quietly before moving away, leaving you to stand beside an unsteady Matt. His hands were on his head and he was radiating anger. He was mad at himself for not being able to go through with it, but he was also glad that he didn’t. He understood what the consequences would’ve been and he knew that keeping that part of himself was more important than revenge.

“You’re okay.” You said gently to your partner, a hand landing on his shoulder. “I knew you’d do the right thing.”

“What if I didn’t?” He said weakly.

“We’re still in it together, Devil.” You shrugged. “Anyone comes after you, they come after me.”

“If I agree to your demands, you leave my wife alone.” Fisk countered, now kneeling beside Vanessa.

“You misunderstood me.” You warned. “There is no agreement. You have no leverage.”

“You leave Vanessa free!”

“You didn’t care about taking a father from a ten year old boy!” You shouted angrily, the sound of the bullet firing on Ray replaying in your head. Your anger burned down your spine and across your skin until it swelled in your palms, searing through the wound on your shoulder. “You took a husband away from his wife! Why should yours be free?”

“I was protecting the man I love.” Vanessa countered with false confidence, despite the darting eyes and trembling hands. “Could you tell me you don’t do the same?” She nodded to Matt though her eyes remained on you.

“I owe you people nothing. If it were up to me, you’d both be a puddle of your own blood right now.” You spat. “But I promised Ray I would do this the right way, and I promised the Devil I’d let him decide.”

Matt stepped forward and held a hand out to Fisk.

“If you keep your word.” He said simply.

Reluctantly, Fisk shook Matt’s hand.

“Then it’s a deal.” He spoke bitterly, moments before the heavy banging came from the door.

“We should go.” You grabbed Matt’s arm lightly.

He nodded quietly before taking your hand. You two hurried up the stairs to the upper level and paused to see Brett enter with his team. You watched as they unmasked Dex and you weren’t fully listening to the words they were saying. You were distracted by the pained look on Dex’s face, what looked like tears in his eyes.

“Я оплакываю своего друга, который умер, когда ты надел этот костюм…” You said quietly, more to yourself than anything but you knew Matt heard. “Человек, которого я вижу сейчас, ничто.” (I mourn my friend, who died when you put on that suit… The man I see now is nothing.)

Matt grabbed your hand without a word and led you out the same way you two came in, avoiding cops until you made it to the rooftop. Through your lenses, you saw Fisk being shoved into the car and Foggy and Karen out in the courtyard.

You let out a small chuckle of relief when you could finally accept that you had won.

You, with Matt and Ray’s help, beat Wilson Fisk.

Again.

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miguelswifey04 · 9 months

Note

im too scared to ask this nonanon so I'm sorry if this looks like spam, I promise it's not!!

If you have time, could you do a Miguel x f!reader established relationship where the reader has been being harmed/harassed by someone at her job? She's scared to tell Miguel because she's afraid he won't take her seriously, used to past relationships downplaying her feelings and having to handle things herself. She acts different on the days that she works but sweetly tells Miguel it's just stress.

don’t worry!! thank you for the request and awww yeah for sure!!

remember if you or your loved ones are going through something like this please tell a trusted person, whoever it may be, or report it to your HR/boss/manager/even authorities (honestly anyone you can trust!) you are not alone!! i see you and you are loved <33 if you need someone to talk about anything remember you can shoot me a message, i always answer no matter what 🤎!!

miguel o’hara x fem! reader

warnings: harassment by stranger to reader, angst/comfort fluff, could be triggering (?)

you found yourself facing a difficult situation at work. someone had been harming and harassing you, causing you immense distress and fear. the weight of this burden took its toll on you, but you hesitated to confide in miguel.

previous experiences had conditioned you to believe that your concerns and emotions might be dismissed or downplayed. you believed you had to handle things on your own, afraid of being labeled as overly sensitive or needy. the thought of miguel not taking you seriously only added to your anxiety.

however, miguel was intuitive and perceptive, sensing that something was amiss. he noticed the subtle changes in your behavior on workdays and the way stress seemed to weigh heavy on your shoulders. deep down, he wanted to be there for you, to support and protect you, but he also respected your independence and strength.

one evening, as you sat on the couch, miguel approached you with a gentle look in his eyes. he took your hands in his, tenderly stroking your knuckles. "i can see that there's something on your mind," he said softly. "you don't have to face it alone. you know that, right?"

tears welled in your eyes as you looked into his caring gaze, feeling the weight of vulnerability lifting from your shoulders. you took a deep breath, uncertain of how to voice your fears. "miguel, i’ve been going through something at work," you began, your voice trembling with a mix of apprehension and relief. "i’ve been harassed by someone, and it scares me."

miguel's expression shifted from concern to a fierce determination. he squeezed your hands gently, his voice filled with a resolute tone. "i’m so sorry you had to bear this burden alone. i want you to know that i take your feelings seriously. you are not alone anymore, and o will do everything in my power to protect you."

in that moment, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude. miguel’s unwavering support washed away the walls you had constructed to protect yourself. he proved to you that your feelings and experiences were valid, and he would stand by your side no matter what.

together, you discussed the situation in detail, exploring different courses of action. miguel reassured you that he believed in your strength, but he also emphasized that it was not your responsibility to handle it all alone.

with miguel by your side, you mustered the courage to address the issue at work, seeking help from higher authorities and implementing safety measures. and throughout the process, he provided unwavering support, reassuring you that your feelings were valid and that you were deserving of safety and respect.

———

a/n: sorry if this was short but i treaded carefully with this one to not make it as triggering as possible because these are harder to write !!

tags 🏷️!! @kairiscorner @meeom @emiemiemiii @sabcandoit

#spiderman atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #atsv x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #🌱 lin writes #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x y/n #♡´･ᴗ･`♡ lin answers #lin’s asks #miguel o’hara angst

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deejadabbles · 3 months

Text

Forbidden Blossom (Kix x Fem!Reader, Fantasy AU Part 2)

Part One || Part Two || Part Three Coming Soon

Summary: The tyrant king had never claimed to love you and you certainly held no affection for him. Thankfully, there was someone else who captured your heart. Rating: Gen (but minors DNI!) A.N: Listen....I'm just really obsessed with fantasy AUs right now, so I just had to continue what I created back during Halloween! As always, this got way out of hand and the continuation got too long, so this will be a 3 parter. Part 3 will be posted next week so I don't overwhelm anyone Word Count: 3,409 Warnings: Forced engagement, abusive relationships, implied physical abuse, life threats, and forbidden love. If you are concerned that this chapter's content might be triggering, please feel free to send me a message! I will do my best to answer any questions (without triggering language). That goes for all of my fics, I want everyone reading to be safe.

Masterlist /// Tag List Sign Up /// AO3

The sheets felt like sandpaper, despite their silken weave, the air cold and stifling regardless of the fire and windows ajar. A prison, even though the doors were not locked.

You didn’t know what time of day it was, but the chamber maids had cleared out recently marking that it was some time before lunch, probably. That wouldn’t matter, you had barely eaten anything since you’d been dragged to the palace of the tyrant.

So, it almost surprised you when you heard voices outside your door. One voice was the captain of your guard, the man who, at least once a day, insisted that you eat something. The other voice was not one you recognized and that alone made you stir just a little under your duvet. Not just anyone was permitted into your chambers, let alone this close to your bedroom door.

“Oh gods, please- please don’t let it be him!”

But even as the heartstopping thought came to you, it was wiped away by the gentleness of the stranger's voice. There was no way the King you had met could sound so…

“There has to be something you can do, Kix.” That was Fox, a good man despite his stern frown.

There was a sigh from the stranger “I can try but….” a thought mulled over, carefully considered, “brother, I can’t heal a broken heart.”

“And why would you think- actually, never mind just…just do something, before he does something.”

The sound of retreating boots followed, along with another sigh a moment later. A heartbeat went by and you hoped the stranger had abandoned his assignment, that he would just leave you to your gilded cage, but then the doors to your bedroom opened.

You retreated further under your blankets, sinking into their plush warmth that still seemed so abrasive to your skin. Maybe if he thought you were asleep he would try again later. Yet again though, this mystery man surprised you. His steps towards your lavish bed were slow and careful, as if approaching a dragon’s nest.

“Your Highness?” he asked, voice quiet and soft. Highness, not Majesty, because you were not yet married to that evil man- thank the gods. “My Lady, I’m a doctor, I’ve been asked to see to your health.” His voice was closer now, right beside the head of your bed.

“I’m not sure there’s anything you can do, Doctor,” came your voice from under the fabric.

Another beat of silence, then, “Would you be willing to let me try, at least?”

You had no idea what or why, but something in his tone made you pull back the covers and peer up at him. He was handsome, devastatingly so, with finely styled hair, but the thing that drew you in most were his eyes. A rich brown color and holding a look that…it wasn’t pity. This was the first time a member of the palace had looked at you softly without pity and that alone kept you from ordering him out of your room.

He smiled then, as soft and kindly as his eyes when he reached out to your hand. “May I?”

Soft and considerate, this man was impressing you more by the minute. You nodded and held your palm up to him. Gently, he took your wrist and pressed his fingers to the soft skin there.

“Alright, your pulse is fine,” he hummed then, again slowly so you had time to stop him, he reached that hand to your forehead. His fingers were cool, like a refreshing damp cloth on a hot day, and it was all you could do not to lean into his touch. “No fever, either,” he continued thoughtfully. Then, after a moment he took his hand away, “May I ask you some questions?”

You nodded numbly, silently.

Instead of immediately asking this and that about your medical history, he instead walked over to your fireplace and grabbed one of the chairs. He brought it over to the bedside and sat with a little satisfied sigh.

“Tell me about your home.”

That caused you to blink, “Wh-what?”

His knowing smile didn’t falter, “Talk to me, My Lady. Tell me about where you grew up. What you loved most about it. The things that made you happy there.”

Your brows came together in confusion and you finally sat upright to meet his handsome eyes better. He didn’t repeat himself, just waited patiently. Despite the fact that his gaze never left your face, you were suddenly very aware of the fact that you were in nothing but your thin night clothes. He was a doctor, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen exposed bodies before, but your sudden shyness prompted you to lift the blanket over your chest as you settled your back against the pillows.

“Well…” you started after clearing your throat.

Where would you even start with his question? You missed everything about home, every tiny detail that stood in stark contrast to this place. You missed the sun coming in to shine over a room you decorated and filled yourself. You missed visiting the village and all who greeted you with a smile and a wave. Missed the late nights with friends and people you loved. And the people who loved you back.

That and so much more came to mind, but, you only had to think for a moment longer before a memory two weeks old came back to you.

Nothing about this arranged marriage had pleased you, but you had at least tried to find some enjoyment in your first days here. Then you had taken a walk through the gardens and when even they did not spark joy, your emotions spiraled, landing you here, in your current state.

“I miss my gardens,” you said finally, staring off at nothing in particular. “They were so beautiful. So colorful and vibrant…. Not like the bare, minimal flower beds here.” You trailed off for a moment, pulling up fond memories from the depths of your mind and, for maybe the first time since you started your journey here, you smiled. A real, genuine smile. “There was one section where our gardener would let things get just a little overgrown,” a ghost of a laugh escaped you as you met the Doctor’s eyes again, “he said that it represented ‘wild beauty’ and somehow convinced my father to keep it. My loved ones and I set up a little tea area there and every afternoon we would go walking through the gardens and…just talk and laugh. Simple pleasures.”

The Doctor’s smile turned encouraging and your body turned to him fully. Before you knew it you were telling him stories, stories of you and your best friends racing through the flowers, of begging the bakers to let you help prepare the treats you’d stuff into baskets and carry out there. Stories of reenacting scenes from your favorite books like children playing pretend. He listened to it all, laughing along with you, asking questions here and there and encouraging you all the way.

You weren’t even sure how much time had passed before you realized that the weight that had been pressing on your chest for weeks felt…lighter now. Suddenly, the room wasn’t quite as suffocating as before. Maker, you even had the urge to pull back the curtains to let a little sunlight in.

The good doctor must have noticed your sudden silence, because he pulled his chair just a little closer to you. “Thank you, for sharing those stories with me, Your Highness.” He paused for a moment, seeming to think something over. “I know I’ve already asked a lot of you, but, could I ask one more thing?”

You couldn’t find it in yourself to even hesitate, you nodded silently.

“I would love to show you something, it’s a beautiful day and I think a walk would do you some good. Will you get dressed and meet with me?”

And there it was, he was still asking you, considering you, taking your wants into account. No one here had ever done that. Not truly.

“Yes, yes, I think that sounds nice.”

Those eyes of his brightened “Excellent! Take your time, I’ll tell Fox where to escort you.”

With that, he got up, pulled the chair back to its original spot and made for the door. Only now it was time for your own question, “Wait- Doctor! What’s your name? You didn’t give it earlier.”

For the first time, he looked surprised, “Kix, My Lady. You may call Kix.” He looked back at you with his hand on the doorknob. “I look forward to our walk, Your Highness.”

And with that, he- Kix, slipped out of the room. It was only then that you realized there was a small fluttering sensation in your stomach, something light and almost uneasy. Well, you hadn’t eaten much in so long, it must be that. You thought about indulging in one of the snack trays the maids left at your bedside, but the thought still didn’t quite appeal to you.

Still, the fact that you could pull yourself out of bed and start putting thought into what you wanted to wear was a good improvement.

You did not call on your handmaids, the idea of being surrounded by people, of hands on your skin and in your hair, did not sit well at the moment. Despite that, and the fact that it was the first time in days you had come out of your room, It did not take that long to get ready and ask Fox to escort you to this mysterious location.

At first when you stepped outside the east wing, your heart dropped slightly, knowing that this was the way to the gardens that were a stark, depressing imitation of your lavish grounds back home. But, the gentle doctor was not waiting for you there. Yes, you had to walk through those almost sterile flowerbeds, but obviously this was not the intended meeting spot.

You kept your eyes forward, not wanting to see the roses cut down to their stems so the thorns prickled in the sunlight, or how the lilies were cut free of any diverse or colorful petals, robbing them of unique beauty. At the edge of the overly pruned yard was a line of tall hedges and Fox led you past them.

What lay beyond took your breath away.

It was an orchard teeming with life. Countless trees bearing fragrant fruit and vine covered trellises blooming with even more. All of them were well tended, cared for, but not overly cut like the flowers before. No, these were how nature should be, respected and loved and free to grow.

And there among it all, looking fondly at a patch of strawberries, was Kix. His smile rivaled the warmth of the sun as he noticed you standing there and he bowed his head slightly. “Your Highness, thank you for joining me.” Then he turned to Fox, “You can leave the Princess to me, Commander.”

In answer, the leader of your personal guard sighed, but turned to stand sentry by the hedge archway without protest. Kix waved his hand down the humble pathway between the trees, an invitation to walk with him. You did, gladly, and didn’t try to hide how in wonder you were of the orchard as you two began your walk.

“Hardly anyone but the gardeners come here,” Kix explained, “It took a long time for them to convince the King that over pruning is bad for the harvest, and that’s the only reason these plants and trees aren’t cut down to their stems. When you told those stories about your garden back home, I thought you might like it here.”

“It’s beautiful,” your tone was breathless, which obviously pleased him to no end, if that look in his eyes was any indication. “Thank you, Kix, this is wonderful.”

He opened his mouth, a response on the tip of his tongue, but then he hesitated. Instead, he walked over to the nearest tree, which just so happened to be bearing one of your favorite fruits, and plucked a ripe specimen from the branch.

“I know that your situation isn’t an easy one, Princess,” he started as he walked back to you, “but if you ever need an ear to listen,” he took your hand and placed the fruit in your palm, “you just have to ask, and I’m yours.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you nearly gasped at his words and that’s when he suddenly looked a little flustered.

“My ear- my ear is yours, I mean.” He laughed nervously, then closed your fingers over the fruit, “What I’m trying to say is that, if you ever need a friend, I would be honored if you considered me one.”

It was hard to meet his gaze, not because you were embarrassed by his misstep in words, but because his promise made that fluttering sensation move to your chest as well as your stomach. This man, so full of kindness and care, he was making your heart feel light and heavy all at the same time. Maybe there was some joy to be found in this cage. You would take any you could get, so, you thanked the Doctor for his kind words.

“I would be the one honored to call you my friend, Kix.”

Something akin to surprise colored his eyes at that, surprise and something… tender.

“Then, whenever you need to talk, or want a reminder of home, just call on me.” Then, Kix closed his eyes and lifted your clasped hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss to your fingers.

It was that moment that your heart took flight.

It was no wonder that, over the next months, the Princess and the Doctor would fall madly and deeply in love.

Your room had never quite felt like a home, always a golden cell, always a sign of your lost freedom, or the way you were chained to him. But it had never felt as cold and unforgiving as it did now. The fire was out, leaving you in icy darkness, all while the fiance you never chose towered over you.

“I asked you a question, girl: do you think I am a fool?” The tyrant king’s tone was flat and cold, even as you tried to choke back the tears from your spot on the floor.

Even if you tried to get up, he would just force you back down again, so you answered him through gritted teeth. “No. You are no fool, Your Majesty.”

“Then why did you think I wouldn’t find out about this?” It was the first time something besides cold fury colored his tone. He was seething now. “Did you truly think I was so blind? That I wouldn’t see the longing stares or hear about your romantic walks?!”

You yelped when he grabbed your collar and yanked you onto your back.

“Did you truly think you could get away with making a fool of me?”

For all his cruelty, you had never seen him like this, his brutality had always been a cold and unfeeling blade, not this burning fire of rage. It was all there in his eye and bared teeth as he glared down at you and it made you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Then, the harsh curl of his lips eased, teeth no longer bared, as he leaned back and stepped away from your prone form. He was regaining his composure before your eyes as he straightened and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Get up,” he commanded, tone like cold steel once again. “I want you to have a better seat when my men bring in the good doctor.”

That caused your heart to freeze in your chest. “No- no!” The desperate plea left you as you scrambled to your feet.

The King smiled in that cruel curl of his lips. “Yes, my dear. You will watch while I make an example of him. While I show him what happens to men who touch what’s mine.”

“Please!” Your voice cracked with the force of your words, “Please- I’m to blame, not him!”

His smile only grew with more you pleaded, “Which is exactly why I will hurt him instead.”

That vicious mirth in his eyes is what made you lose any last shred of resolve. Of course this was his plan, cold and calculated. Bruises could heal, but the memories of this? They would haunt you forever, and in the end he still got his meek pet for a queen.

“I gave you an order,” he went on, “I said get up-”

He was interrupted by the doors to your chambers being thrown open. In marched a company of the King’s most trusted guards, with Commander Fox, who had been ordered to wait outside, hot on their heels.

“Your Majesty,” the head of this company said with a bow, “my men are still searching the grounds, but it would appear that the traitor Kix has…escaped.”

Oh, the king did not like that.

The fabric of his gloves strained as he clenched his fists, the knuckles surely white beneath. He drew in a harsh breath through his nose as he turned away from you without a second glance.

“Find him. Search the whole kingdom if needed,” all the guards, save for Fox, followed their king as he stormed towards the doors, “if you have to bring him back here in pieces, do it!”

With that threat ringing in your ears, doors were slammed shut again, the sound echoing through the room like glass shattering on marble.

Silence swelled, filling the void the King’s rage left behind. Leaving you in the cold and the dark. In your cage draped in finery.

Gone. Kix was gone. He had escaped somehow. The thought sent a myriad of emotions washing through you, tearing and shredding your body in a confusing whirlwind. Before you knew it, you were curling in on yourself, fists clutching the fabric over your heart and tears staining your cheeks.

Harsh sobs wracked your body and you couldn’t say whether they were from the relief of knowing he was safe or the sorrow of knowing you would never see the love of your life again. Deep down, they were likely both, you supposed.

You jumped when something warm and heavy was draped around your shoulders. You hadn’t even noticed Fox kneeling beside you, blanket in hand. Somewhere, in the back of your mind you remembered telling him that the blanket was your favorite from home, but at the moment all you could do was pull it tighter around yourself as you tried to steady the painful breaths you were taking.

Fox, possibly the only other man who had ever shown you any care in this hellish castle, didn’t say a word as he waited for your body to tire itself out with its mourning. When it did, he silently helped you to your feet. You don’t remember walking to your bed, just that the blankets had been placed over you and the fireplace nearby had been stoked back to life.

Finally, your trusted guard spoke, a firm if still cautious call of your name. Your actual name, not a title. “Please,” he said in a whisper, “don’t do anything drastic. Things won’t be like this for much longer. I promise.”

Confused, you blinked up at him, but he didn’t say anything more, just bowed his head respectfully and closed the curtains of your bed slowly. If there had been any strength left in you, you might have called for him, asked him to stay close. To not leave you. You didn’t need to ask, however, you heard his boots stop just outside your bedroom. Standing sentry, acting as your shield, as much as he could in any case.

The patterns of the curtains danced from the crackling fire on the other side, but it was just a blank canvas to stare at as your mind ran the same thoughts in your head over and over again. He’s gone, Kix is gone. At best, you’ll never know true love’s touch again, at worst, you’ll see that love slaughtered for the crime of existing.

Still, even in your spiraling despair, one other mantra crept in here and there.

“Things won’t be like this for much longer”

Divider by the amazing @dystopicjumpsuit

#kix x reader #clone medic kix x reader #fantasy au #clone wars fantasy au #deeja writes #reader insert #clone wars reader insert

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