#and we’re back (to the religious imagery posting)!!

[leclerrari]

SPIELBERG, AUSTRIA: Second placed Charles Leclerc reacts in parc ferme during the Grand Prix of Austria on July 02, 2023 (Photo by Dan Istitene)

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Devil Worshipping Cultists Steve & Eddie x Virgin Sacrifice Fem!Reader

ADVISORY: This story contains dark content. Relevant tags are posted below the cut. Proceed only if you’re comfortable consuming content with intense themes and violent imagery. The canon is essentially flipped upside down (no pun intended) with Eddie and Steve behaving as villains in this story.

Eddie and Steve are the villains this story. They are depicted as the kind of devil-worshiping deviants the people of Hawkins accuse Eddie of being. In this story, ‘Hellfire,’ lives up to its name, with Eddie and Steve as a pair of friends who use their ‘devotion,’ to Satan as an excuse to carry out sinister actions.

Additional content warnings: words like bitch and cunt are used as insults against reader. Reader is touched against her will and a knife appears briefly. Reader’s virginity is mocked, as well as her desire to abstain from sex. She is threatened with assault. Misogyny, men being bastards, religious themes (Satan, a church, devil worship). And in the end, the bastards pay…

Eddie Munson’s eyes lick over you sinisterly. “She’s pretty and she’s a virgin?�� he huffs, obviously pleased with your ‘credentials.’ “Looks like you hit the jackpot with this one, Steve.”

You hear Steve Harrington, your ‘boyfriend,’ chuckle softly behind you. You’re tempted to turn and face him, but you refuse. He has betrayed you, completely. After three months of dating who you thought was a normal, nice young man, Steve allowed his true personality to emerge. He and his twisted friend Eddie have brought you to a remote location against your will…an abandoned, decaying church. You can’t say for certain what their plans for you are, but it’s obvious they intend to harm you.

Eddie slides a fingertip under your chin, tilting your face upward. Dying sunlight streams through a window on the ceiling. Its rose-tinted glass casts a haunting glow over the room. “See that?” Eddie asks, pointing to the window. “Up there? That’s the only way out of this room-.” He glances mischievously at Steve. “-For her, anyway,” he laughs, then to you, “So unless you’ve got a set of wings I don’t know about...” Eddie moves behind you and abruptly tugs the collar of your shirt downward, splitting the fabric down your back. “…Nope, no wings,” he confirms. Eddie’s eyes feel like snakes slithering over your exposed skin. “…I guess that means you’re dying tonight,” he concludes.

As quickly as it appeared, Eddie’s dark expression turns crudely joyful, a maniacal laughter bursting from inside him. “M’just fucking with you, sweetheart!” he clarifies, but it does nothing to tame the tension in the room. “Something in you is going to die tonight,” Eddie adds, his voice a taunting lilt. “That much is true…”

Steve’s hands close over your shoulders, a familiar touch that had once felt protective. Now, you realize that every gesture of softness, every gentle word from him, has been a lie. Steve’s voice is chillingly calm as he explains: “Your innocence is dying, tonight.” You force yourself to willingly look at Steve. His hazel eyes are filled with a false sincerity. He never cared for you, at all.

Assuming you don’t understand what’s being implied, Eddie chimes in. “We’re taking your virginity tonight, (y/n).” You shake your head at Steve, whose flat expression betrays any sense of remorse. “Why?” you ask, your voice breaking. “Is this because I made you wait?? Because I’m saving that experience…having sex…for my wedding night??”

Eddie laughs out loud at your words; he finds your standards of morality equal parts hilarious and pathetic.

“Christ, Steve!” he chortles. “Where’d you find this one? Behind a pulpit??”

“Trust me (y/n),” Steve tells you. “Eddie and I aren’t doing this because you wouldn’t sleep with me the whole time we were dating. I could have taken what I wanted from you anytime during those three months.” Steve’s lips pout down at you; he’s mocking you now, just like Eddie. “Besides,” Steve continues. “It’s not like I wasn’t fucking around with other bitches the whole time, (y/n). Girls who didn’t have one damn problem spreading their legs for me…”

Eddie slaps Steve’s back in a toxic, macho sort of congratulation. “That’s my boy,” he sings. “Now, let’s get to the best part, Steve.”

Eddie reaches for the front of your shirt and yanks it down, revealing your breasts blooming over a push-up bra. “Well how about that??” he balks. “What kind of virgin wears sexy shit like that under her clothes?”

You glare at Eddie. “Believe it or not, women wear clothes for themselves,” you bite back. “Not everything’s for men and especially not you, asshole!”

Eddie shudders, pretending to be intimidated. “My apologies, y-your highness, your l-ladyship,” he stutters, holding his palms in front of him in surrender. “You got me. I’ll change my ways, I swear.”

Eddie’s open hands close suddenly over your breasts, clutching them firmly, pulling a shocked gasp from your lips. “…But not today,” he grins smugly, continuing to grope you. “Now tell me, did Stevie here at least make it to second base?”

Steve blows a drawn-out raspberry. “Not a chance,” he jeers. “This bitch is as uptight as they come. Barely let me put my tongue in her fuckin’ mouth.” Steve cups your cheek in his hand, making you flinch. “Isn’t that right, baby?” he murmurs, closing the space between you, the tip of his nose nuzzling yours. “You and those fucking standards of yours…But I guess in the end, all your stupid morals made you the best sacrifice of all…”

You lurch back from Steve, right into Eddie’s arms, unfortunately. He spins you around to face him, a sadistic glimmer in his eyes when he speaks. “That’s right (y/n), we’re sacrificing your purity tonight,” Eddie explains. “And the fact that you’re a goody-two shoes little cunt actually makes it all the better.”

“What are you talking about?” you snap. “Sacrificing my purity? Who the hell talks like that? Fucking weirdos-”

“DON’T-,” Eddie shouts, shoving a finger at you. “-DISRESPECT…the RITUAL.” His eyes are like fire; Eddie is seething. “DON’T-disrespect-HIM…”

The sunlight has faded completely by this point. The only illumination in the room is coming from Eddie’s lighter, a thin flame twitching in his unsteady grip.

You stare stone-faced at Steve, your Judas Iscariot, your betrayer, the man whose lies outshine even his beauty. The window blinks above you, lightning flashing nearby.

“Satan,” Steve utters in a low, reverent tone. As if on cue in a cheesy horror movie, thunder rumbles outside the church.

You roll your eyes at Steve, earning you an even harsher glare from Eddie. “Satan?” you parrot back at Steve. “As in, the Devil? Are you serious?”

“-Is this fucking serious enough for you?” Eddie shouts. He pulls a pocket knife from his pants and juts its tip against your throat. “This is how it has to happen. We prayed to Satan, and He told us.”

“Told you what?” you sneer. “That if you fucked a virgin in the sanctuary of an old church, the Devil will give you magic powers or something? You really believe in that kind of shit?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, tugging your arm towards him. “Because it’s real. And you’re about to find out how real it is.”

He yanks you by the wrist, ordering you onto the ground . A bolt of lightning crackles outside, close enough that it makes Steve and Eddie jump. The brief pulse of light illuminates the three of you, and maybe Eddie’s imagining it, but he could swear your eyes look…different. Darker, somehow.

He assumes it’s just a shadow, a trick of the light, and tries to ignore it. Steve pulls at your arm again, trying to force you onto the floor. But you won’t budge. He can’t understand how you’re fighting him; he’s clearly stronger than you are. Thunder shakes the ground beneath your feet, a low hum bellowing from below as if the earth itself is groaning.

“You hear that?” Eddie asks excitedly, his pulse racing. “It’s Him, Steve. It’s fucking Him!”

Wind whips around the old church, its wooden beams creaking like tired bones. Eddie’s lighter begins to flicker in and out; he curses and smacks it against his palm, trying again.

When the flame ignites, its amber glow illuminates only Steve and Eddie’s faces. You appear to have vanished.

“Where the fuck did she go?? She was right-”

“-Well you were the one holding her fucking arm, Steve-how should I-.”

“HEY!” you call from behind the pulpit. Both men whip their bodies to face you, another burst of lightning revealing their wide eyes gazing up at yours.

“H-how did you do that?” Steve asks, his voice wavering. Eddie shakes the bewilderment from his mind, now even more determined to see his plan through. “You little bitch,” he growls. “I don’t know how you did that, how you got up there that fast, but you’re still ours, and we’re still in control!”

Eddie starts for the podium, but finds himself frozen, unable to move an inch. His eyes go wide as saucers, fear washing over his face.

“You both look so small from up here,” you tell them, leaning over the pulpit, your breasts pressed against it. “Small and weak. Pathetic, actually.”

Eddie smacks Steve’s shoulder, telling him to grab you; but try as he might, Steve is frozen in place as well.

The glow from Eddie’s lighter flicks in and out as his hand shakes uncontrollably. “What the hell is this?” Steve asks in a small, timid voice. But Eddie has no answer to give him.

“All those hours the two of you spent praying,” you speculate, getting high on their fear. “I wonder who you were actually praying to? Because it certainly wasn’t me…”

Steve’s jaw goes slack, sweat dripping from his hairline. Eddie wants to know…has to know, if what you’re implying is true. “L…Lord,” he begins tentatively, his voice trembling. “I had no idea-we-had no idea, it was You-.”

“SILENCE,” you order, and Eddie’s lips seal shut. “Bow to your Master, if it’s Satan you praise. Or can you not bring yourself to kneel at the feet of a woman?” A dry laughter rumbles from your chest, filling the room with heat, rattling the church’s bony frame.

Steve and Eddie tremble beneath you. Lightning strikes above the church; you watch its glare in the ceiling window, how it floods the terrified faces of the men at your feet. A tall tree beside the church is struck; it catches fire immediately.

“You bastards would need a taste of Hell, to understand how sick you are,” you tell Steve and Eddie. “Therefore, it’s what I’ll give you.”

The tree collapses against the roof of the church, setting it ablaze. Eddie and Steve whirl their heads to see it, but their feet are still stuck in place.

You remain calm, as if the decrepit old building isn’t going up like a box of matchsticks around you. “Legend says,” you preach to the men. “That the Devil wears a suit and tie…” You lean forward against the pulpit, your black eyes glaring down at them. “…But sometimes, She wears a push-up bra…”

A beam of rotting wood detaches from the ceiling, falling directly in front of Steve and Eddie, blowing dust and smoke into their eyes. As they cough and sputter and try to make out the shape of you behind the pulpit, they realize you’ve vanished. Panic seizes them both as flames draw closer and closer to the place their feet are locked, immovable. Sweat pours down their faces, eyes wide with tears that evaporate as soon as they form. The heat is suffocating, clogging their throats, smoke filling their lungs to bursting…

…And just as the first touch of fire licks at their skin, it STOPS.

Eddie and Steve are laying in the field outside the church, their backs burning, bits of clothing singed off around them. They gulp the fresh air into their mouths, weeping tears that can finally fall, drinking in the rain as it begins to cascade above them.

They watch the church, as the last of its pillars and beams are consumed by fire, brought down to its foundation. Rain puts out the flames remaining, as darkness swallows the area once more. Smoke rises like a prayer to Heaven, along with the tearful utterances of two men forever changed in one night, asking God to forgive them, two sinners grateful to still be breathing…

[withlove-xixi]

— THE CHURCH ON THE EDGE OF THE BED: kabru x reader

KINKTOBER DAY THREE: BODY WORSHIP ᥫ cw: nsfw, body worship, oral sex, religious imagery (i guess) ᥫ wc: 1126 ★ erm .. i think this turned out more romantic than sexual .. my apologies i grew up in a religious community and im a lesbian now [٩(๑`ȏ´๑)۶ thank you @cavern-creature for the suggestion!] cross posted on ao3 — MINORS DNI! —

— KABRU WASN’T A RELIGIOUS MAN.

[♡]: honestly, he didn’t quite get the concept much. no greater being really interested him, no ritual brought him to his knees, no prayer left his lips. he didn’t really get religion, but he had his own god.

THIS WAS KABRU’S FAVORITE VIEW, the expanse of heaven that stretched for what seemed like infinity, the impossibly perfect stretch of soft skin as breathtaking as springtime flower fields. And he’s got the best seat in the house too; kneeling against the edge of the bed, looking up at your naked figure.

The first time you had Kabru like this, you were flustered, embarrassed even. Piercing blue eyes almost seemed to study you, learning the way the muscles on your face twitched when he pressed gentle kisses on your thighs, memorizing every curve and dip on your body when he pinned you beneath him. It was intimidating to say the least. And it felt like he was about to take down notes, keep a nice well-documented report on how you were in the bedroom.

And if he were any less sane, he might’ve.

And if we’re being honest, with the way you were looking at him right now, the back of your hand pressed against your mouth to hide your flustered expression, the squint of your eyes and the furrow of your brows from the sheer difficulty to focus, the rosy flush that kisses your cheeks and the tips of your ears like moonlight, it was driving him to the edge of insanity.

Kabru kisses your knee, hands gently coaxing them apart to reveal to him the space between your thighs. He swallows at the sight, eyes fixed on the way you look, trailing down your body with such adoration until his eyes land on the space in front of him, the deliciously divine fruit between your thighs. His tongue pokes out from between his lips, moistening them, licking them in hungry anticipation. His eyes dart back to meet yours, graced against by that beautiful expression on your face with your bottom lip tucked beneath your teeth in a harsh bite.

He’s patient, almost for the first time in his life, he’s patient. His long lashes kiss the tops of his cheeks, a silent plea for permission, for command. When you give him a slow nod, your cheeks only turning a deeper shade of red and pupils dilating in an almost-hazy way, his heart skips a beat in gratitude. If he weren’t already on his knees, he would’ve gotten down on them to mouth praise and thanks against the flesh of your thighs as he kissed towards your core.

Your hand leaves its hold on your mouth and moves to tread through the dark, curly tresses atop Kabru’s head. The touch is gentle, soothing, but Kabru would’ve called it merciful. Yeah, that’s what you were. Such a kind, loving and merciful thing, indulging Kabru in every little sinful desire that ate away at his heart. Such a softhearted god to provide him so many graces, and at the mere bat of his eyelashes at that!

Something about you lights this passion inside Kabru, one he feels for no other person. It grants him the smallest semblance of understanding for Holm and his silly little deities. He understands what it means to devote yourself to someone to such an intense degree, he understands what it was like to so readily fall on your knees in worship, he understands what it feels to have your life be changed in the most mind-shattering manner.

To show his gratitude, to you and your mercy, he kisses from your knee, slowly and gently working his way up your thigh, lips sealing seering kisses against your perfect skin like wax on a love letter, like laying his life at the altar.

As if to prove your divinity, your kindness, your compassion, your whimper, a soft sounding hymn that sings like angel song in Kabru’s ear. He feels his heart race at the sound. His hands remain on your knees, keeping you spread wide apart for him, giving him access to every inch of your heavenly body. His kisses— his show of devotion —finally reach your core, and he pauses to fully indulge himself in your presence, to fully take in your indescribable holy image. He feels you tug at his roots, just slightly to tell him to quit his antics and get to work. A smile grows on his face, his god’s request is one he can’t ever deny, not for too long at least.

His lips meet your ache, a soft, gentle kiss at first, one that elicits that sweet angelic moan from your pretty lips, the same one that replays in Kabru’s mind in an attempt to memorize the sound. Soon his tongue pokes out, licking intentionally slow stripes against you, feeling your every twitch against the muscle. You reward him by pressing your hips against his face, pulling him against you by his hair. Kabru sighs dreamily at the act, encouraged to keep lapping wherever you’re most sensitive, to keep kissing and licking and sucking until the whole room echoes with only the holy preachings of your lips, the breathy moans and shy mewls that rivaled the scripture people had tried to teach him.

This was his worship, you were his altar, his god. You were some taste of heaven, some fragment of divinity, put on this mortal plane just for him because you were kind like that, you were merciful. He’s convinced no other god can exist, no greater being lives in some outside plane beyond the world he knows because nothing could have ever conjured up something as precious as you, someone as perfect as you. Your eyes rivaled the stars in the night, your voice rivaled the sounds of spring, your beauty rivaled the treasures of this world.

He huffs against you, his grip on your knees tightening very so slightly, a feeble attempt at grounding himself back to earth when he was buried far beyond the paradise of heaven. You whine at the feeling, hips bucking towards his face, gently rolling against his face, rubbing yourself at his eager mouth and tongue.

“Cl… close…” Your whisper, voice so soft and shaky it almost sounded broken.

There’s a primal sound that erupts from Kabru’s throat and vibrates pleasantly against your flesh, some sort of animalistic growl that has you miserably whimpering, writhing under his careful touch. He kisses you with more gusto, each time his lips and tongue meet your skin was another testament to his love, his devotion, his faith.

Your grip tightens, pulling harshly now on his silken locks, your knees threaten to snap shut around his head. Kabru continues his prayer, moaning against you when he feels you tug at his hair again.

He’s rewarded with a groan, almost frustrated the way it falls off your lips in near desperation. “Kabru, more, please. Gods—”

Gods. What use were gods when he had you?

[destielaureversebb]

Coming soon for the @destielaureversebb: “Exodus 3:2” 

Author: stayawake @9x20 Artist: medicatedmaniac @medicatedmaniac

Rating: Mature Archive warnings: None Length:  40,000 words Tags:  Priest!Cas, Caretaker!Dean, Alternate Universe, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Age Difference Relationships: Dean/Castiel

Summary:  Dean’s twenty-two, but he’s already resigned himself to spending the rest of his life in Lawrence. Going to church, working at Bobby’s shop, taking care of his dad. His dad, who is convinced demons are after them all.

And then a new priest rolls into town with a broken-down pickup.

Excerpt: 

“Come on,” Jo says. “It’s Friday. Sin just a little.”

“Fries aren’t sinning,” Cas says, but he does accept. He licks the salt from his fingertips and Dean tracks the movement. “If you feel as though you’re sinning, confession takes place from one to three tomorrow afternoon.”

“Man, I haven’t been to confession in years,” Jo says. “Around the time I stopped believing in Hell.”

“Jo,” Dean wines. Leave it to her to tell a priest to his face that she doesn’t believe in Hell.

“It’s fine,” Cas says. “I appreciate the honesty. The church accepts everyone of different beliefs.”

“See?” Jo says. She looks back at Cas. “Dean is wound a little tight.”

Dean doesn’t respond, just shoves more crisis fries in his mouth.

“Since you have the afternoon off, do you want us to give you the grand tour of Lawrence?” Jo asks.

“Oh, I couldn’t-”

“Come on,” Jo says. “Let us show you around. Dean and I know the best places for secretly drinking.”

“Not sure that’s something you wanna disclose to a priest,” Dean comments.

“No need to censor yourselves,” Cas says. “Everything you tell me is confidential.”

“So it’s like we’re always in confession?” Dean asks.

“Maybe you can call it friendship instead,” Cas says. “When’s the last time you went to confession, Dean?”

“Never.”

“Really?” Cas blinks. “In your whole life?”

“Nope,” Dean says.

It’s not like he doesn’t have guilt that keeps him up at night. If he went to confession now, he’d probably be ordered to say ten thousand Hail Marys.

“But I’ll be at church on Sunday,” Dean says. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Posting date:  February 4, 2025

[moonlitdark]

(Image credit: JB Lacroix/WireImage, Katja Ogrin/Redferns)

Stranger Things star Jamie Campbell Bower shares gorgeous cover of Sleep Token’s Euclid

By Liz Scarlett (Metal Hammer)

Jamie Campbell Bower has shared a gorgeous cover of the Sleep Token track Euclid.

The rendition of the song, which features on the anonymous masked metallers' third album Take Me Back To Eden, arrived onto Jamie's YouTube channel on February 23.

In a social media post the day before, the actor and musician teased the cover by writing the Sleep Token mantra 'Worship' on X.

Fans in the comments are unsurprisingly loving Jamie's take of the track, with one listener writing, "What a combination of universes. No one asked, everyone needed". While another says, "As a very Avid Sleep Token fan I gotta say, Jamie you killed it. This was absolutely incredible."

Jamie is set to reprise his role as Vecna in the fifth and final series of the immensely popular sci-fi/horror series Stranger Things, which is due out some time later this year.

Last April, he unveiled his new project, BloodMagic, with the heavy-hitting single Death / Rebirth.

Speaking about his new band in an interview with Metal Hammer, he said: “BloodMagic is a vessel. A vessel for me to express myself and my beliefs in a way that feels both somewhat familiar and terrifying at the same time.”

“It’s about leaving one world to get to the next,” he continued. “We’re not a religious band, but I really like the idea of certain imagery in religion, and it’s a good way of condensing these wild questions we have about life. So thematically I think Death / Rebirth is the beginning of the journey.”

Hear his Sleep Token cover below:

[seren1tyhaze]

pls post dive part 2 😓😓 dying over here

Dive Part Two Teaser: Strawberry Sunday

Hi :) I know, I know. It's been so long.

I want to say firstly, your love and support of my Dive fic has been more than I could have ever imagined. When I first published it last May in a fever dream after Doyoung's D&G photoshoot, I never imagined it would be this well received. We are quickly approaching 1.5K notes on the original post and every new comment really makes me smile.

I really am actively working on part two, which is lovingly titled Strawberry Sunday and a continuation of Jungwoo's cheeky idea from part one. For now, I offer a small teaser which of course involves that same religious imagery that everyone fell in love with in Dive. It's also nsfw.

Please comment on this post to be included in the official tag list when Strawberry Sunday is released in full.

Until then, check out my other works and stay well :)

~~

Doyoung gasps for air and slams the palm of his hand down on the wooden surface of the desk hard, digging his fingernails into the varnished surface. His other hand runs through his hair for the hundredth time, grateful he doesn’t have a mirror hanging in his home office, knowing he looks a mess. A groan rips from his lips and it rings out loud, filthy, and filled with pleasure.

He drops his hands and gaze at the same time, reaching down to pull cheeks covered in arousal and spit up to face him, sliding his cock out from surprised lips. He takes a moment to examine the beautiful face looking up at him from the floor, eyes twinkling with mischief and skin flushed a beautiful shade of red.

He takes a moment to breathe, dragging his thumb across a wet lower lip before bringing his thumb to his lips and practically moaning around the digit, tasting himself. His cock twitches and before he can say anything he feels teeth grazing heavily across his length-

“Earth to Doyoung-ie?” comes a sing-song chant through his headset, snapping him back to reality.

Doyoung looks up embarrassed and into the webcam on his computer, clearing his throat quickly. Haechan has a knowing look in his eye and his head is cocked slightly, staring him down through the screen.

“Yeah, yeah sorry, I got distracted by um…an email,” he stammers out, flipping quickly in his open Bible on the top of his desk.

Had he just been standing at his desk, imagining you were underneath it giving him head during his weekly virtual Bible study session? Yes, yes he had been. Was he now having to face the very curious eyes of three of his best friends, the “Lee Three” as they liked to call themselves, and try to lie? Yes, absolutely.

“Must have been some email…” Jeno mutters, taking a long swig from his water bottle. His hair is damp and by the look of his background, it seems like he's dialed in from his phone in the lounge at his gym.

“It’s okay, I think we’re almost done for the day anyways,” Mark offers, closing his own Bible and adjusting the collar at his neck. He didn’t normally wear his costume (as Haechan called it) for their sessions but he was away at a conference and in between presentations.

“Can I ask for some advice before we close?” Doyoung pipes up, closing his own book softly and flipping it over, as if that would help him be less ashamed for what he was about to ask.

“Of course, we are always here to listen, Doie,” Mark replies softly, pushing his glasses up his nose and leaning back in the uncomfortable chair he had been sitting in for the past hour.

“Let’s just say, there’s something that you know someone you care for very much would enjoy. And maybe this thing is something you’re unsure of. And this thing you’re unsure of is something that two other people you care for very deeply suggested but you really aren’t sure if it’s the right thing for you and the other person to explore right now…” Doyoung rambles on, seeming to get lost in the vague grammar of the narrative he was building.

Haechan cuts him off with an exasperated sigh which almost transforms into a whine as he speaks.

“Jungwoo and Jaehyun want to fuck this girl you won’t shut up about and you don’t know if group sex is really the right thing for you do this early in your situationship,” he states bluntly, looking up from picking at the corner of his fingernails.

“HAECHAN!” Mark and Jeno yell into their headphones in unison, Doyoung flushing a deep shade of red and reaching up to clutch at the cross around his neck.

“What?” Hyuck asks, still holding a deadpan look in his face, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Doyoung sighs but nods slowly, looking up to meet an awkward Jeno, who is scratching the back of his neck. He flicks his gaze to Mark who is merely laughing, leaning back in his chair and clutching his stomach.

“Why are you laughing, Father,” Doyoung retorts, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise in his chest as he chastises one of his oldest friends.

“Doyoung, please. The three of you have been doing this for years and I don’t know why you get so worked up about it each time. If she wants to do it and you are comfortable with it, just make sure you have open lines of communication with those two devils. You know how carried away they can get,” Mark replies with a signature roll of his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m still scarred from my night with them,” Jeno murmurs quietly, thinking no one heard him.

“Oh shut up, you know you loved that shit,” Haechan quips quickly, leaning close to his webcam as if it would bring him physically closer to him.

“Honestly, go for it, dude. It’s like the least risky situation out there and from the sounds of it, I think she is probably into it,” Hyuck adds, voice becoming almost soft as he finishes his sentence.

“Just don’t do it on a Sunday, okay? That’s all I ask,” Mark chuckles again, waving goodbye to the group before disconnecting from the call.

Doyoung rolls his eyes, nodding to the other two before disconnecting and pulling out his phone to finally return Jungwoo’s text that he had been staring at for weeks.

~~

hope you enjoyed ;) comment to be added to the tag list!

[rookieleonskennedy]

unholy communion

Just posting one of my fics from ao3 onto here (:

Rookie!Leon x fem!reader

Description: “What a pretty angel, letting a devil split her open on his cock.”

WARNINGS/tags: MDNI, dominant Leon, spit kink, religion kink, religious imagery, praise kink, size kink, breeding kink, choking, unsafe sex, PWP, no y/n

Enjoy!

The motel room Leon found for you two after the events of Racoon City was modest at best, but to your weary and sore bodies it might as well have been a five-star resort. Leon had taken the initiative to check you two in, as you trailed behind him blindly, exhausted from the day’s events.

“I hope you don’t mind…” Leon began, giving you a shy look over his shoulder as he began to lead the way to where you would be sleeping for the night. “I only got us one room. It’s just…after the events of today I didn’t want to be alone.” He cleared his throat hastily, “Didn’t want you to be alone, I mean.” His voice trailed off at that, cheeks flushing red.

You smiled at his bashfulness, “I don’t mind that at all Lee,” you said honestly, as you felt the same as he did. Knowing that he would be close by throughout the night relaxed you, and you felt an invisible weight lift off your shoulders. You knew that if he had gotten you two separate rooms it was unlikely you would have slept at all.

“I can’t wait to wash all this fucking grime off of me!” You groan, looking down at your hands in disgust. They were practically grey, covered in God knows what. Leon chuckled heartily at your exclamation, looking down at his own hands in agreement, “You’re telling me.” He mumbled, finally stopping at one of the motel room doors.

“This is us,” Leon muttered, fumbling with the room key as he worked to unlock the door. You almost collapsed in relief at his statement, your body yearning for the warmth of a shower and the comfort of a bed. He finally opened the door, and you could have sobbed in relief at the sight before you. A beautiful king-sized bed lay in the middle of the room, looking like it could swallow you whole in its comforting down.

“You take a shower first,” Leon stated, nodding toward the bathroom at the back of the room. “I’ll check out the surrounding area to make sure we’re safe while you’re in there.” You hum in grateful acknowledgment, already headed in the direction he motioned to.

You set the water just shy of scalding, shedding your dirtied and destroyed clothes before stepping into the hot spray. You moan at the feeling of the hot water running in rivulets down your skin, taking the dirt and grime from your earlier adventures down the drain with it. Thankfully, the motel provided bath products for you to use, and the calming scent of lavender overtook your senses as you freed your skin from the blanket of grime encapsulating it.

When you were done, your skin was raw from all the scrubbing required to cleanse yourself, but you didn’t care. You were just glad to finally be clean. Toweling off the excess water that still clung to your skin, you found a plush cotton robe to pull on hung in the bathroom and then wrung your hair mostly dry with a towel. You headed out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, finding Leon sitting in one of the chairs by the bed.

He smiled at you as you exited the bathroom, “Well, well, look at you!” He exclaimed, flashing you a playful wink. “All cleaned up and feeling better, huh?” He asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he looked at you, and a blush rushed to your cheeks.

“Mhm,” you hummed. “I feel so much better now.” You flashed a smile at him. “Your turn to clean up, you stink!” You tease him as you sat on the bed. “I’ll order us food while you’re in there.”

Leon laughed at your teasing with a shake of his head, “Okay, okay. I guess that’s only fair. Make yourself comfortable on the bed, I can stay in the chair next to it tonight.” He headed towards the bathroom to clean himself up, and you ordered the food to be delivered to the room.

A little while later Leon walked out of the bathroom wearing a cotton robe just like yours, his wet hair pushed back off his head to reveal his whole face to you. Your face heated once more. While his bottom half was completely covered by the tied robe, the top part was slightly loosened, revealing his bare, toned chest to your gaze.

“Food on the way?” He asked with a grin in your direction, catching you staring at his chest. “U-uh, yeah. It’s coming.” You stuttered, flustered at the sight before you. Leon chuckled at your reaction. “You okay?’ he asked, seeming genuinely concerned for a moment before he winked at you playfully once again. “Your face is pretty red,” he added with a kind smile. “I’m not that pretty to look at am I?”

Your face reddened even further at being caught ogling him before you looked down at your fidgeting hands and whispered “You have no idea how good you look, Lee.” You hoped that he didn’t hear your quiet declaration.

If you had been looking up at him instead of your hands, you would have noticed the slight pink blush that had risen to his cheeks, as he heard you, but decided not to comment. He distracted himself from responding by looking for the remote, which he produced with a triumphant little “Aha!” aimed in your direction. You raised your eyebrows at him, mirth written in your eyes.

He waggled the remote at you, “Anything, in particular, that you feel like watching?” He asked with a small smile. You settled back into the bed with a hum, shaking your head slightly. “Whatever you want is fine, Lee.” He nodded, once again sitting in the chair next to the bed while scanning through the channels for something suitable.

Soon he found some silly reality show on the television, and it had both of you giggling like crazy at the shenanigans happening on screen. The food had arrived shortly after he put the show on, and both of you ate ravenously, bodies craving nourishment after the strenuous events of the day.

Both of you had finished your meals, and Leon had graciously cleaned up the trash before resuming his spot in the chair next to you in the bed. His eyes were glued to the TV screen, while yours were glued to the shape of his jaw, outlined in the soft glow of the show flashing in the corner of your periphery. Your chest felt warm with affection and anxiety, as you worked up the courage to ask him a question.

“Lee?” You spoke softly, trying to grab his attention. He looked over at you with a soft smile, blue eyes searching for yours. “Yeah?” He replied, just as soft as you. “What’s up? Do you need something? I can get it for you.” He could tell by the look on your face that you were nervous, but for what he didn’t know. His own chest fluttered in anticipation.

“Earlier you said that you were going to sleep in that chair…” You fidgeted with your hands, pulling at your fingers in nervousness. “But, can you come and stay in the bed with me, please? I like having you close after…everything.” Your face burned from embarrassment, ready for him to reject you for such a childish request.

However, his face lit up at your words, as he had secretly been craving the closeness you desired but was too timid himself to say anything. He smiled warmly at you, his heart picking up pace inside his chest. “Oh, of course,” He replied immediately. “I would never say no to that.” He was actually quite giddy that you had asked him to share the bed and had no qualms about it. “It’d make me feel better too.” He added, coming to rest next to you under the soft covers of the bed.

You scooted closer to him, the warmth of his body pressing into yours was a soothing balm on your frayed nerves. Tentatively, you rested your head on his chest. “Thanks, Lee,” you whispered against his skin delicately.

His shoulders relaxed upon the contact of your head on his chest, for having you close was as much a balm to him as it was to you. His arms encircled you, pulling you ever so slightly closer, and squeezed you gently. “You comfy?” He asked, genuinely curious, as he brushed your hair back from your face and behind your ear. “I can readjust if you’re not.”

You hummed in the affirmative as his hand stroked your hair affectionately, nuzzling into his firm chest and relaxing at the safe feeling his arms around you brought. His gaze on you was tender, and he smiled down at your figure resting on his chest. He gave your body another squeeze before a hand trailed down to your back and began tracing your spine through the robe in feather-light strokes.

“You’re safe now,” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head in promise. You kissed his chest in response, your hand coming up to stroke his midriff gently. You felt him shiver under your fingers at the touch.

“Lee?” You whispered, looking up at him through your lashes from your position on his chest. “Yes, dear?” He responded softly, raising his eyebrows slightly as he looked down at you. He gave you another comforting squeeze, letting you know that he was listening to whatever you wanted to say to him.

You took a deep breath, eyelashes fluttering. Your gaze flickered between his eyes and his lips quickly before you spoke, “Kiss me?” you whispered, as butterflies took flight in your abdomen.

Leon’s own breathing had hitched beneath the ear you rested on his chest, his eyes immediately flitting to your lips. He swallowed nervously, heart pounding in his chest. His face had a beautiful pink blush as he responded, “U-uh, yeah. Y-yeah I can do that.” He answered in a hushed tone, as if speaking too loudly would make you change your mind.

You smiled up at him in relief, but made no move yet, wanting him to initiate the contact. Leon took a moment to steady himself before placing his hand beneath your chin and guiding your face up to his ever so slowly. You both closed your eyes, noses brushing together tenderly. Leon gently placed his lips upon yours, in a soft, sweet peck before moving back in a bit more insistently. His arms then wrapped around you tightly, his hands desperately winding themselves in your hair. The kisses he gave you were filled with nervousness, but also excitement, hope, and adoration.

You sighed happily into the kisses, your own hands resting on each side of Leon’s neck. His pulse fluttered like a bird’s wings beneath your touch. His lips were unbelievably soft against yours, plush like fine velvet. You shuddered at the feeling of his hands in your hair, your skin flushing red at the intimate touch.

Wanting to be closer to him, you threw a leg over his hips, allowing you to straddle him. The new angle allowed the two of you to kiss deeper, more passionately, and you felt Leon groan heartily into your mouth at the heightened sensations.

His hands traveled from your hair and down the robe covering your sides, coming to rest on the swell of your hips. He was lost in you, his whole being now simmered down to the connection of your lips on his. You felt the same, your world had condensed until all that existed was the man beneath you. His body was the only galaxy in which you existed, and the constellations covering his skin were now yours to chart.

Your hands roamed across Leon’s chiseled chest, thumbs reverently caressing each side of his neck before your hands found themselves tangled into his damp blond hair. Your chests pressed firmly together, and you could feel Leon’s pulse hammering alongside your own.

The revelation that he was just as affected by you as you were by him sent a beam of heat straight to your core, and your thighs tightened briefly. You swallowed the soft moans emanating from Leon’s mouth at this motion eagerly, offering a few lewd noises of your own in return.

The feeling of your hands in his hair had Leon leaning into the touch, a groan rumbling in his throat. Hearing your moans mingling with his own sent him into a frenzy of passion, and he began to kiss you more intensely, your bottom lip becoming entrapped between his teeth. You gasped at the pain as it melted into pleasure, tugging sharply on Leon’s hair in response.

His breathing became ragged at this, a loud whine escaping his throat. The grip he had on your hips tightened, before his hands began to travel back up your sides and then threaded themselves in the hair at the nape of your neck. With a sharp tug, Leon pulled your head back, tearing your lip from the hold of his teeth and angling your neck to the side for easier access.

He began to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down the soft expanse of your throat, his teeth grazing your pulse point hesitantly before he finally gained resolve and sank them gently into your skin with a possessive groan. His body trembled like a leaf beneath yours as the sensation of his teeth marking your neck caused you to keen, high and reedy, in the back of your throat.

You were panting in desire at this point, the arousal coursing through your veins felt like shooting stars beneath your skin, a sensation like no other. “Lee,” you whined. “Feels good.” He huffed against your neck, continuing to softly pepper the skin of your neck with mottled bruises.

A fire was kindling low in your stomach, but you wanted more. You tugged his hair, removing his mouth from your neck, his gaze meeting yours inquisitively. “You don’t have to be gentle with me, Lee. I won't break.” Something ignited within his baby blues at this revelation, his pupils overtaking the soft hue of his iris.

With a desperate moan, he began to handle you more roughly. His teeth sunk into your skin harder than before, and his hands moved beneath the cotton of your robe to squeeze the globes of your ass tightly.

“Oh God,” you keened, your head thrown back in otherworldly bliss. The sting of his teeth on your neck and the brush of his hands on your skin felt like rapture, an exaltation of pleasure you would continue basking in for as long as he would let you.

Looking down at him, and seeing the way he had lost himself in the touch of your skin sent sparks dancing across your nerves. “I’m yours Lee,” you gasp, the words falling from your lips like a lost sinner’s confession. “Do whatever you want with me.”

Leon’s hands shook against your skin as he took in your words, his forehead coming to rest upon the small patch of your chest that had become uncovered in the midst of your kissing. Your words were a hymn that he had once thought to be long lost, a hymn that he thought would never bless the ears of a reprobate such as he. This was a gift he would not squander and a song that he craved to hear forevermore.

He planted a swift kiss on your chest before speaking, “I’m going to take my time with you.” His tone was low and husky, and he flashed you a devilish grin before placing more kisses across the swells of your chest.

A shiver wracked through your body at his darkened tone, your hips undulating down upon his lap beneath you, searching for sinful friction. Having nothing on beneath your robe, you could feel, very well, the bulge that resided beneath Leon’s own covering against your dripping core.

He groaned softly at your movements against him, his face flushed a dark red. His breath was hitching in his throat, and you knew that your hip’s rotation against his was riling him up. His hands fluttered from your rear to the tie of the robe at your waist, fingers slowly but nimbly undoing the knot he found there.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me, sweet thing.” He chuckled. You pulled his head back sharply by his hair in response, making him look you in the eye as you ground your hips downward forcefully, gasping as his bulge grew under your gyrations. “I think I have an idea,” you managed to whimper out, eyes fluttering at the sensation beneath you.

Leon let out a whimper of his own, his eyes widening when you grind down on him. “Fuck,” he whispered, looking into your eyes with desperation. You were a new messiah above him, an idol he could gladly worship for the rest of his days. “You like what you feel? What you see?” He continued hoarsely, arousal clear in his voice.

You moaned loudly, dragging his spit-slick lips up to meet yours in a bruising kiss with a rough pull of his hair. He could have sworn he felt God at that moment. “Yes,” you breathed into his open and panting mouth, “I like it so much, Lee.” His eyes fluttered closed as his lips locked with yours and he groaned into your mouth. His teeth nibbled on your bottom lip, another moan escaping from your throat as he did so. His face was dusted red with lust, his hands fervently trailing across your skin under your now untied robe.

He broke the kiss to take a deep breath, his head thrown back against the headboard as he helped you slide the cotton material off your body. “God, fuck.” He panted, eyeing your now naked form, before reconnecting his mouth with yours forcefully. You continued to grind down on his lap, the friction feeling like heaven on your needy and swollen clit.

“Lee,” you whimpered needily. “Touch me, please.” You were practically begging, needing more of Leon. Needing him closer, needing him deeper than sitting astride his lap would allow.

You were an angelic vision in Leon’s eyes, a holy temptation sent from some higher power to break him down until he was nothing but an obedient servant to you. He would readily tear himself apart for this, would gladly bare himself as a sacrifice at the altar of your body day after day if it meant that he could hear the saccharine words of sin spilling from your lips above him again and again until the day he died.

He let out a soft, needy, whimper. “My God…I will.” His hands caressed your sides before resting on your inner thighs with a rough squeeze. He could see the wetness pooling between them, the manna he craved to devour so close, but he could not give in to his temptation to eat just yet.

“I’ve gotta go slow, make it worth the wait for you.” He panted, fingertips moving ever so closer to the wet apex of your thighs. You keened as his fingertips got closer, but not nearly close enough, to where you wanted them.

“Need you so bad, Lee,” You pulled at his hair in sexual frustration, “Wanna make you feel good.” He gasped at your admission, a flustered moan leaving his lips. Your words made him feel weak, like an ancient temple crumbling into ruin.

“I know, Angel. And you are making me feel so good, I just wanna make sure you feel the same way.” His hands cupped your face, “Patience is a virtue, remember?” He smirked at you teasingly.

You leaned into his touch on your face with a small groan, “Damn my virtue, Leon. I want you more than I want it.” As soon as the words had left your mouth, Leon knew that a new Psalm had been written. One that he knew he had to get you to sing, one that he knew he had to sing with you.

With an animalistic groan, Leon flipped you onto your back, shedding himself of his robe while he did so. His cock was hard and proud against his abdomen, and you moaned at the sight of it hovering above you. Swollen and red, the tip leaked a steady stream of precum onto your stomach while Leon’s arms bracketed your head, and his lips swallowed yours in another heavenly kiss.

Your hands found themselves tangling in Leon’s hair yet again, using the leverage gained from their grip to hitch your hips up slightly and run your wet folds across his throbbing cock with a gasp. His answering noise was absolutely sinful , and one of his hands came to wrap around your throat. “Please,” he whimpered, squeezing his hand around your throat. The pressure he applied on your neck was just enough to have you seeing stars, your eyes rolling back into your head from the sensation.

“Not yet,” he ground out, hand releasing your throat. “Be a good girl and let me have my fill, and then you’ll get stuffed full of my fat cock. That okay?” He tapped the side of your face twice as he said this, waiting for your response. “Yes sir!” You whimpered.

This new, dominant side of Leon sent your head spinning. He looked at you reverently, like an apostle looking at their messiah for approval. Having given him yours, Leon moved down your body, whispering praises against your skin as he made his way down to your throbbing heat.

Settling himself between your shaking thighs, Leon looked up at you from his position and groaned in pleasure.

You were the Ark of the Covenant, a beautiful and sacred relic seated before him, forbidden to be touched and sullied by the likes of him. But he had fought his temptation for you for so long, and he was nothing but a dirty sinner, after all. Finally giving in to the carnal desires of his flesh, Leon’s mouth found its way onto your dripping cunt with a hum.

Your body came alight at the touch of his mouth on your core. Your back arched, your hands flew to his hair to lace themselves in it, and your heels dug into his back.

The fervent strokes of Leon’s tongue against your folds was your resurrection. Before this moment you had perished, your body slowly returning to the dust from whence you came. But with each suckle on your clit, and each lap of his tongue against your greedy hole, Leon had gifted your once withering body with the breath of life.

His mouth was insistent, never breaking from its attachment to your wet heat even despite the way your body undulated beneath his divine ministrations. His tongue lapped at your cunt like it was holy water, blessed for Leon by God himself. He would rather be damned than waste a single drop of the liquid manna that had been bestowed upon him.

You cried out in bliss as Leon worked, hands and thighs tightening around him. “M’gonna come,” you slurred, eyelids heavy from lust as you peered down at the man worshiping your cunt.

The sight before you had the fire within your stomach roaring into an inferno, an orgasm washing over you, consecrating your body into hallowed ground.

Leon’s hair fanned out between your thighs like a golden halo as his sapphire blue eyes met yours while you came undone on his face. He looked saintly , an absolute picture of sinful devotion painted between your trembling thighs. You wanted to capture this profane image of him and have it turned into a prayer card, one whose iconography you would eternally devote yourself to.

Leon moaned deeply at the feeling of you unraveling on his tongue. Committed to giving you as much pleasure as possible, he continued fucking you with his tongue until your delicate hands were no longer pulling him in, but rather pushing his head away.

He traveled up your body slowly, placing reverent kisses to your skin as he made his way up to your face. Hovering above you, he was enraptured. Your face was flushed red with arousal, eyes cloudy from the post-orgasm haze. You looked like lust personified, your body the picture of cardinal sin.

“Please, let me fuck you.” His words fell upon your ears not as a mere plea for the secular comfort of your flesh, but as a devout prayer. Here he knelt before you, begging for your intercession on behalf of his engorged cock.

Who were you to deny such a pretty prayer? He had been most devoted to your pleasure, therefore it was only right to answer his request in the affirmative.

“Fuck me.” You said as you nodded, spreading your legs, revealing the altar of your body to him once more. Ever the acolyte to your demands, Leon wasted no time situating himself between your spread thighs.

You helped him guide his aching dick to your entrance as his forearms came to rest on either side of your head. Your noses brushed gently, a gasp being passed between the two of you as his tip slipped past the first ring of muscle separating your sex from his.

He kept pushing forward, and one of his hands moved to cup your jaw as his own went slack at the feeling of you enveloping him. Your pulse danced beneath his hand, and your eyes rolled back into your head as the sweet pressure of him filling you overwhelmed your senses. He was so big, and so thick. You were uncertain if your body could make a home for him inside itself.

That thought quickly banished itself, however, when his dick finally made its final push to seat itself inside you. With a breathy moan, you relished in the feeling of having Leon seated snugly inside you.

He had you crucified on his cock, and yet your body still craved more. Your hands scrambled to find purchase on his shoulders as you mewled at the euphoric sensation of his member stretching you out.

“Oh, My God.” Leon groaned against your mouth, your fluttering walls squeezing him so tightly that he was unsure he could move within you.

“Please move, Lee.” You whined, and ground yourself down onto his cock. His hand on your jaw spasmed, squeezing your face briefly in surprise at your movements.

He gasped, and pressed his lips to yours in a heated and sloppy kiss. The hand on your jaw shifted to your neck, and with a gentle squeeze in warning, Leon began pistoning his hips into yours.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving marks in their wake, and your legs wrapped themselves around his hips for stability. The drag of his swollen cock against your walls sent your mind reeling, and you swore to yourself. “Fuck!”

This was an ascension. Leon’s hand squeezing with the perfect pressure against your neck, his lips continuously meeting yours in brutal kisses, a litany of filthy and vile invocations leaving his lips between each one, his dick being angled at just the right spot to make you see stars, and each slide in and out of your squelching wetness had you swearing that he was bringing you closer to heaven’s gates.

Leon growled, his voice demanding and wild. “Are you gonna let me come in you, my angel? Gonna let me stuff your pussy full of me?” You keened at his words, the fire in your stomach heating to an inferno once more.

“Yes,” you panted. “Give it to me, Lee.”

With a moan, Leon released your throat, only to use his now free thumb to force your mouth apart. “Open up.” He demanded, and when you willingly complied, his thumb brushed past teeth to rest on your tongue, and he spat into your mouth with a dark laugh. “What a pretty angel, letting a devil split her open on his cock.”

Swallowing his spit around his thumb greedily, you moaned, clenching even tighter around his cock as it continued to forcefully fuck in and out of you.

The feeling of your walls clamping down on his dick, and the visual of you eagerly swallowing his spit, sent Leon flying over the edge of pleasure. His hips stuttered, burying him as deep in you as he possibly could as his cum painted your insides white.

Seeing Leon come undone above you, and feeling his warm release spill inside you, you were sent careening into ecstasy alongside him. Your cunt clamped down on him hungrily as you came with a small yell, your muscles working to keep his seed inside you, a communion offering you were determined to savor.

After a few moments spent catching his breath, Leon pulled out of you with a soft whine, collapsing next to you on the bed. He shuffled a bit before pulling you into his chest and under the covers with a soft, “C’mere.”

You nuzzled into his sternum when he prompted you closer, and you felt him press soft, sweet kisses to the crown of your head as you pressed one to his chest. You two stayed that way throughout the night, sleeping soundly in the arms of one another.

[destieltropecollection]

DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 28 | Canon Compliant

from the ashes | @demonmary

Rating: General Word Count: 1,095 Main Tags/Warnings: Hell Rescue , Grace-Soul Bonding , Pre-Episode: s04e01 Lazarus Rising , POV Castiel, Religious Imagery & Symbolism Summary: It was his belief prior to that moment that Creation was an act of God, His and His alone; yet here Castiel was. Not God - but one of his angels - breathing careful life into the lungs of a man.

Love Me As An Inanimate Object | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,195 Main Tags/Warnings: Episode: s07e01 Meet the New Boss, Missing Scene, Canon Compliant, Castiel as God (Supernatural), Angst Summary: Dean attempts to summon Cas in order to nicely ask if he'll please stop killing people. It... could've gone worse than it does.

Hydrogen Stars And The Design Of The Universe | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,788 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Episode: s04e16 On the Head of a Pin (Supernatural), Pre-Slash, Accidental Bonding, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Castiel Watches Over Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Missing Scene Summary: “So what’s. Uh. The design of the universe or whatever?” is what Dean comes up with as he’s rubbing his face dry on the pillowcase. It seems like something an angel would know a lot about. “Incomprehensible to humans as a whole.” Fuck’s sake.

Coming Down | @notastupidbird

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,977 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Season/Series 05, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Power Bottom Dean Winchester, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Light Angst, Sex in/on the Impala (Supernatural), Rain Sex, Anal Sex, Riding, POV Dean Winchester Summary: It’s only the second time they’ve done this and the first without the threat of “last night on Earth” hanging over them, so Dean still concentrates on studying Cas’ face for those sweet little micro-expressions that Dean’s hips are working out of him. He goes slow, grinding back and forth in a slick, rolling motion like they have all the time in the world. They don’t. - + - While Sam sleeps, Dean and Cas sneak off to the backseat of the Impala.

Yes, Dean | @whichstiel

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2,788 Main Tags/Warnings: Stuck in the Middle (With You) Episode Coda, Tattoo kink Summary: Dean stares over at Cas. The angel is perched on one of the double beds examining his blood and black-goo stained clothes. As he watches, Cas presses a careful hand against his side over the healed spear wound. He looks like he's trying to read the dictionary upside down and in the mirror. Dean clears his throat and leans back from where he's standing over Sam's research. “You okay there, man?” he asks. “Yes, Dean.” Cas's reply is terse.

Wait For Me... | @deanabean

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,389 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Compliant, Post-Episode AU: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, in this house we don't believe in s15ep20, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode Fix-It: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Fix-It sorta - Freeform, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Inspired by Hadestown, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Hopeful Ending Summary: "It's an old song! It's an old tale from way back when And we're gonna sing We're gonna sing We're gonna sing it again!" _____ They were here before, he felt it , lived it, had to come form the other side of it... and he's gonna do it again and again and again... This time, they gonna make it through. because this time, they're truly free. this time, he's gonna get Cas back... He heard that melody before, what follows it though this time around?!

que sera sera | @hauntedpearl

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,855 Main Tags/Warnings: Canonverse, Mutual Pining, Angst, Hopeful ending, Cuddling/Snuggling, Season 13/14, Cas POV Summary: Castiel and Dean steal away to snuggle every once in a while and talk about things. Set somewhere after Tombstone and before Byzantium.

no proof, one touch | @watchinghimrakeleaves

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5,389 Main Tags/Warnings: canon compliant, dean winchester in heaven, castiel in heaven, love confessions Summary: When Castiel learns that Dean has entered heaven, he's determined to avoid him to save them both the pain of dealing with his confession. Dean is equally as determined to find him, leading him to put up signs for Cas anywhere he thinks the angel might be.

so much smoke in a hall of mirrors | @autisticandroids

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6,235 Main Tags/Warnings: non-consensual voyeurism, top!cas, some general ickiness re: consent even though no one's consent is actually violated, season six, angel civil war, lonely cas, dean/lisa Summary: Humans kiss each other. Angels kill each other. Castiel distracts himself from the war he's losing.

Idiots in love | @castielific

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6,622 Main Tags/Warnings: Human!cas, accidental love confession, dean has a sexual identity crisis, jealous!Dean, gay panic, oblivious!Dean Summary: "So, no God, no wings, no imminent apocalypse, what are your plans now?" Dean tries to make the question sound casual by taking a sip of his beer. "I want to have sex with a man," Cas declares, nibbling at a red vine cherry twist. He barely reacts to Dean spitting his beer all over the table and choking on his sip. (...) Cas tilts his head and adds, "I may need your help with that."

Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx | @readingprofoundbonds

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 9,729 Main Tags/Warnings: John Winchester's Parenting, Spans years Summary: Dean's love language is told not in words, but in songs. In the notes of his favorite rock band and the rhythm of their melodies. His longest unfinished work is composed of Led Zeppelin songs, chosen for the feelings they evoke. It's Dean's life, reflected into one mix and shared carefully in hopes that he would be heard and understood.

Contrition | @norahastuff

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 10,590 Main Tags/Warnings: Mark of Cain, references to s6 and Godstiel, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Takes place midway through s10, Castiel's Angelic Grace Summary: "The room seemed to fade around him, his gaze fixed on the window as he negotiated the church’s inconveniently arranged furnishings to approach it. Dean was vaguely aware of the sting of a pew as it knocked off his hip, but he ignored it, attention singularly focused on the familiar image printed on the glass." Dean stumbles upon a church bearing an image of Castiel, and both Dean and Cas are forced to reflect on a particularly tumultuous period in their relationship. Dean finds that a lot has changed in the intervening years, and maybe it’s finally time to address the things they’ve kept buried for far too long. Though Dean is still struggling with the Mark of Cain, and Cas with his rapidly deteriorating grace, they allow themselves to have this much-needed moment of respite.

Cleanse the Waters | @li-izumi

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 16,416 Main Tags/Warnings: Coda, Hurt/Comfort, POV Outsider, Castiel-centric (Supernatural), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Panic Attacks, Aquaphobia, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, (because canon), Canon Temporary Character Death, Dean's man pain, Dramatic use of dramatic irony, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Episode: s07e02 Hello Cruel World, Episode: s07e17 The Born-Again Identity, Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, Episode: s09e10 Road Trip, Episode: s10e21 Dark Dynasty, Episode: s11e18 Hell's Angel, Episode: s13e04 The Big Empty Summary: Castiel’s multitude of sins haunt him in ways all too human, but water cannot cleanse him when he is drowning in his own guilt. Over the years, he’s tried to ignore his fear--after all, no one needs a broken angel--but he keeps failing and needing to be saved by those he should be saving. If Castiel is ever to be absolved, he must overcome his fear and walk into the water alone.

[laughroditee]

Okay, so this is a screenshot of Barry Sloane’s Spotify playlist that he made for Captain Price. He included “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails, which I thought was very interesting. I’d given some thoughts on a previous post reblogged from @staytrueblue about what I thought concerning the implications of its inclusion, but I thought it would be fun to make a headcanon of just how closer!price would show up in bed in fics. I wrote a lot of this at 3 AM when I was plagued with sudden insomnia, so I apologize if anything is hard to follow or, conversely, over-explanative. My brain juices are very bad. I hope I’m doing this right.

So, let’s take a look at the song lyrics in chunks and apply them to Price.

CW: we get a little religious, but it’s more like him worshipping you and not an actual religion. I just thought I’d warn you if that sort of talk bothers you. (It’s in the song lyrics, so…)

You let me violate you You let me desecrate you You let me penetrate you You let me complicate you

So we have some pretty negative, violent words here like “violate,” “penetrate” (which, we know what that means in this context obviously), and “complicate.” Still, it’s the inclusion of “desecrate” that I want to focus on here. To desecrate something is to “to treat a sacred place or thing with violent disrespect” meaning that closer!price views you as something sacred. Conversely, he’s applying all of these negative, violent words to himself, turning himself into not only an aggressor but one who acts against divine or holy things. In other words, he sees himself as a sinner or something profane. (We’re moving with the vocabulary of the song here.)

So why would closer!price think of himself in this way? Well, let’s look at one of his quotes from Modern Warfare (2019):

"We get dirty and the world stays clean. That's the mission."

John chooses to make this soul-sacrifice willingly. And he chooses this every time so that other people don't have to. This is His Duty™️. And he does it without complaint. But just because you choose something doesn't mean you like it. John is always driven to do The Right Thing™️, at least by his own moral compass, even if it means disobeying orders or shooting a US General in the face for betraying his team. (Chaotic Good king.) However, no choice is without consequence, even if it's merely subconscious. So, going by this line, closer!price views himself as dirty, and I think it's more than just blood on his hands. The atrocities he’s performed in order to protect his country and the world take their toll on the soul. But he accepts that.

At the same time, closer!price sees you as clean. He thinks you're out of his league, that he doesn't deserve you. He could be almost apologetic about wanting to be with you at first, not wanting to disrupt your nice and clean life with the darkness of war that lives within him. He might even resist you for as long as possible.

(Honestly a lot of this runs parallel to how I tend to interpret Simon, but there are a lot of differences there too. Simon, I think wears his dark underbelly very openly – just look at the guy’s design FFS, and personality. But Price’s shadow seems less obvious than Simon’s, and maybe that’s due to the latter’s additional childhood trauma on top of his military trauma.)

Getting back to the lyrics, let’s narrow in on the first parts of those lyrics: “you let me.” closer!price needs your consent, because if you let him “violate/desecrate/penetrate/complicate” you, someone so pure in his eyes, taking such a miserable sinner like him into their body, then he must have some chance at redemption. The path to his absolution lies in your acceptance of him into your body.

I broke apart my insides (Help me) I've got no soul to sell (Help me) the only thing that works for me Help me get away from myself

We get more into the broken/soulless imagery here, and his desperate desire to escape himself. Where else would he escape to but into you?

closer!price would probably want someone outside of the military, a safe haven when he's home and away from the battlefield. He wants to have a piece of that world he's keeping clean, even if he doesn't feel like he deserves it and feels separate from it. You are his link to his own humanity, which he feels is actively eroding with every mission.

closer!price would think you're cute talking about your normal civilian life, but not in a patronizing way. He takes it as evidence that his sacrifice is worth it. That, because your life is quiet and mundane, he’s doing his job right.

closer!price would also try to keep you as far away from his work life as possible, to protect you and keep you clean, not for him but for your own good.

I wanna fuck you like an animal I wanna feel you from the inside I wanna fuck you like an animal

Barry also included many songs on the playlist with “beast” in the title, which goes back to the whole “I’m not human, I’m an animal” thing, echoing that loss of humanity.

My whole existence is flawed You get me closer to God

closer!price may not be a religious man, but fucking you is transcendental for him. Every time is a blessing. Every noise you make is a benediction.

He isn't needy as much as he becomes existential, as if being inside you were a matter of his continued existence on this plane. He becomes weak in this moment because this becomes a fight for his soul. (Not that he would force anything, because that's not okay.)

He would worship your body, your temple, filling you with his cum as if this is how you draw the sins out of his body. And he is absolved. For now.

You can have my isolation You can have the hate that it brings You can have my absence of faith You can have my everything

Here, we’re seeing this idea of giving over to the divine (which is you). The stripping away of all the bullshit that’s in closer!price’s head as he’s lost in fucking you.

you tear down my reason (Help me) it's your sex I can smell (Help me) you make me perfect Help me become somebody else

Here, you can see him getting more animalistic or primal from the loss of his ability to reason (what are humans known for if not their power to reason?) to enhanced senses. You take away all of that for closer!price in an all-encompassing, deconstructive way. He sheds his identity when he’s with you, that identity of “Captain Price, soldier.” This is more of a “universal oneness” concept than a Biblical God here IMO; “help me become somebody else” is a plea for rebirth.

I wanna fuck you like an animal I wanna feel you from the inside I wanna fuck you like an animal My whole existence is flawed You get me closer to God Through every forest Above the trees Within my stomach Scraped off my knees I drink the honey Inside your hive You are the reason I stay alive

Boy’s not afraid to kneel. He will treat you like the deity you are. He basically lives for your p/bussy and is a giant fucking munch; I don’t know what else to say.

[firstprince-ao3feed]

the altar is my hips (we might get away with it)

by theprinceandagcd “We’re in a hallway in the White House,” Henry whispers fiercely, but a small whine slips past his lips as Alex starts stroking him, pure cotton material soft under Alex’s fingertips and contrasting the pronounced ridge of Henry's length underneath it. “In the residence, with us being the only ones staying on this side tonight,” Alex tells him, continuing his ministrations and grinning at the feeling of Henry hardening in his grip. “The closest secret service agents are on the other side of that door—” He jerks his head to his left. “—and around the corner at the bottom of this staircase. As long as you or I don’t sound like we’re in mortal peril, they’ll stay exactly where they are.” Henry swallows, and Alex has to bite back the temptation to follow the movement with his fucking teeth. “Right.” “So.” Alex tugs the elastic of Henry’s shorts down enough to pull his cock out. “Can you avoid sounding like you’re dying, your highness?” --- Or, what I've affectionately coined "blasphemous staircase smut" :) Words: 3699, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston, Red White & Royal Blue (2023) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, there's plot if you squint, Semi-Public Sex, the white house walls have probably seen worse, Explicit Sexual Content, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Blasphemy, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, i'm going to hell if anyone wants to ride shotgun via https://ift.tt/Ea3SVNq

[thisweekingundamwing]

This Week in Gundam Wing 26 October 2023 - 13 January 2024

Here’s the roundup for October 26th, 2023 - January 13th, 2024!

Remember to give your content creators some love! Be sure to join in on the events at the bottom! And remember to send in any new works you see or make this next week!

~Mod Hel

(Look, we’re just going to ignore the fact that I keep reminding myself to do this and then forgetting about it 10 minutes later.)

Fanfiction/Ideas/Snippets:

@lifeaftermeteor

The Pageant (a LAM sidefic) https://archiveofourown.org/works/52557262

M/M, Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy

General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Kid Fic, Post-Canon, Christmas Fluff, Post-Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Author Is Not Religious, Christmas, Not Beta Read

Christmas was always a big deal—even in the colonies—perhaps all the more so following the Eve Wars. This year’s holiday was especially important for their little family, however: Sousuke was going to be an angel.

@noirangetrois

A Not So Tropical Vacation https://archiveofourown.org/works/51336205

M/M, Chang Wufei/Heero Yuy

Teen And Up Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply, Alcohol, Broken Bones, Major Character Injury, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Heero being sweeter than Wufei deserves, Post-Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz

When an injury prevents Heero and Wufei from going on their long-awaited vacation, Heero tries to bring the vacation to Wufei.

@vegalume

Vendredi https://archiveofourown.org/works/51237895

Gen, Duo Maxwell & Heero Yuy

Duo Maxwell, Heero Yuy, Sally Po, Zechs Merquise, Quatre Raberba Winner, Trowa Barton

Teen And Up Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply, Supernatural Elements, Possibly Pre-Slash, Angst, no happy ending, Ambiguous/Open Ending, mentions of other characters from the series, only tagged those who appear 'on screen', little OOC-ness, Horror-ish, multiple uses of the 'F' word

Duo's friends are vanishing, and no one else notices or even remembers. Only Heero believes him and together they try to discover what is happening.

@zaganthi @tzigane

How L2 Learned to Cope with Werewolves https://archiveofourown.org/works/52676311

F/M, M/M, Multi, Chang Wufei/Treize Khushrenada, Chang Wufei/Long Meilan, Chang Wufei/Treize Khushrenada/Long Meilan

Chang Wufei, Treize Khushrenada, Long Meilan, Lady Une, Chilias Catalonia, Vingt Khushrenada

Explicit, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Failed Arranged Marriages, Biological Weapons, Psychological Warfare, Werewolves in Space, Cameos

It was remarkable how many people assumed that being from L5 made him deaf. Possibly it was the security badge that gave them that impression, or maybe they just thought that allowing Treize to nail him meant he was on their side.

Overall, it was pretty stupid. No one paid attention to him lingering with a cup of coffee, they just went about their day and spoke where they normally would. He wondered if being able to fade into the background might be some form of magical camouflage. He supposed that was a realistic option, and there was no reason for them to expect otherwise. Not really. They didn't know him. So he was free to wander and listen and just exist for a while before he went up to the secured swipe card room to try to get a little rest and personal time.

Pleased to Meet You, Hope You Guess My Name https://archiveofourown.org/works/52675717

M/M, Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy

Explicit, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Meet-Cute, Assassination Attempt(s), The combination meet-cute and assassination attempt, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

A third shot rang out, and then footsteps, and he wasn't trying to get away, no, not at all. He was coming closer.

Hell yes. It was a shame the guy was working for L1 or whoever had hired him because he would've been amazing back home. "Hey, hey! Don't fucking shoot! I wanna talk!"

That felt like a purely audible pause, followed by a nasal voice that was more a statement than a question. "About what." Like they had the time to have a discussion here. Somebody would have heard the shots by now.

Arts/Crafts/Photo Manips:

@artnijna

https://www.tumblr.com/artnijna/737927884519489536/rewatching-gundam-wing-and-thinking-about-the-2x5

WuFei/Duo, fanart

https://www.tumblr.com/artnijna/738980133321523200/baby-ive-been-to-spacebut-at-the-end-of-the-day

WuFei/Duo, fanart

https://www.tumblr.com/artnijna/738194483104153600/wufei-regrets-his-crush-some-what

Duo/WuFei, fanart

@duomaxwellandducks

https://www.tumblr.com/duomaxwellandducks/732635364086497280/both-gundam-wing-intros-are-iconic-and-anyone-who

Iconic intros, comic

@enelo

https://www.tumblr.com/enelo/739422142192631808

Relena Darlian-Peacecraft, fanart

@ghost-proof

https://www.tumblr.com/ghost-proof/730963271303233536/love-a-good-meme-thought-it-was-perfect-for-these

Heero/Duo, fanart

@idrawprettyboys

https://www.tumblr.com/idrawprettyboys/734925341882286080/i-drew-this-gorgeous-boy-on-a-cheap-supermarket

Duo Maxwell, fanart

@imperviousmelodrama

https://www.tumblr.com/imperviousmelodrama/736263532669190144/did-someone-say-pigtail-duo-pretty-certain-i

Duo/Heero, fanart

@incaseofart

https://www.tumblr.com/incaseofart/733362202305822720/treize-khushrenada-but-casual-clothes-perhaps

Treize Khushrenada, fanart

@lila-oh

https://www.tumblr.com/lila-oh/732714555363459072/happy-halloween-yes-my-participation-is

WuFei/Heero, kissing, comic

Mashiro Andy

https://www.tumblr.com/cruelangel94/733193774949384192/artist-by-mashiro-andy

Relena Darlian-Peacecraft, fanart

@nullphysics

https://www.tumblr.com/nullphysics/735275196278325248

Trowa/Heero, fanart

@sweet-rabbit

https://www.tumblr.com/sweet-rabbit/738637581503315968/i-came-up-with-this-randomly-today-like-15-minutes

Quatre/Heero, comic

Photosets/Gifsets/Screenshots/Manga Pages:

@tinyozlion

https://www.tumblr.com/tinyozlion/733873353488744448/i-love-when-people-put-together-frame-stitches

Clowns, frame stitching

@vegalume

https://www.tumblr.com/vegalume/735006366851334144/tis-the-season

Christmas tree decor

Fandom Discourse:

@lifeaftermeteor

https://www.tumblr.com/lifeaftermeteor/735089951081955328/i-would-swear-there-was-a-gundam-tumblr-floating

LAMs Lost and Found - find great info/world building here

https://www.tumblr.com/lifeaftermeteor/735699559547879424/with-the-power-of-friendship

@prettyboysdontlookatexplosions WuFei being ‘normal’.

https://www.tumblr.com/lifeaftermeteor/736341502701256704/lifeaftermeteors-holiday-card-exchange

Obviously late for this one, but know that LAM does this pretty much every year if they get people who want them. ^_^

@prettyboysdontlookatexplosions

https://www.tumblr.com/prettyboysdontlookatexplosions/734934388226326528/its-also-very-funny-that-we-get-an-episode-called

episode naming things

https://www.tumblr.com/prettyboysdontlookatexplosions/735022245112643584/watching-gundam-wing-as-an-adult-opens-you-up-to

how age affects how you view GW

https://www.tumblr.com/prettyboysdontlookatexplosions/735373187192422400/i-dont-like-ship-it-in-that-i-dont-care-about

Trieze & Zechs

@tinyozlion

https://www.tumblr.com/tinyozlion/736669800741421056/my-beloved-redsixwing-has-found-and-resurrected-a

A GW Archive should people need it.

gwpromptmeme

GW Prompt Meme event

Rules: https://gwpromptmeme.dreamwidth.org/408.html

Main Page: https://gwpromptmeme.dreamwidth.org/

Quotes:

@incorrectgundamwingquotes

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/733281547591024640/on-libra-howard-theres-a-spy-leaking-all-of

Howare, Quatre, & WuFei

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/734821642313793537/incorrectgundamwingquotes-heero-dont-even

Heero & Trowa

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/734912407622844416/cathy-are-you-busy-trowa-no-cathy-wanna-do

Cathy & Trowa

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/733372201867362304/trowa-the-power-came-back-on-when-i-was-asleep

Trowa

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/733734724284088320/wufei-maxwell-just-pissed-me-off-heero-why-what

WuFei & Heero

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/736089974256058368/at-preventers-hq-heero-were-doing-secret-santa

Heero, Trowa, & WuFei

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/735908793762922496/wufei-reading-book-duo-wufei-duo-wufei

WuFei & Duo

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/736271216205283328/wufei-visibly-annoyed-duo-whats-the

WuFei & Duo

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/736724242945671168/dorothy-recording-on-her-phone-so-im-building-a

Dorothy, Relena, & Sally

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/736633591231037440/in-the-groupchat-quatre-good-morning-we

Quatre, Heero, WuFei, Trowa, & Duo

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/737901948172402688/circus-owner-whats-this-gap-in-your-employment

Circus Owner & Trowa

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/736814824240152576/texting-heero-what-should-i-get-at-ihop-duo

Heero, Duo, Trowa, & WuFei

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/736905574207422464/relena-are-you-going-to-be-part-of-the-problem-or

Relena, Heero, & Duo

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/737358389752070144/incorrectgundamwingquotes-wufei-trowa-can

WuFei, Trowa, & Quatre

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/737539619983376384/incorrectgundamwingquotes-heero-duo-duo-yes

Heero, Duo, & Quatre

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/735818328096047104/duo-and-wufei-arguing-wufei-makes-an

Duo & WuFei

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/738083194163822592/incorrectgundamwingquotes-zechs-you-know-who-i

Zechs, Duo, & Trowa

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/737992573856169984/heero-some-days-all-i-care-about-is-the-mission

Heero & Duo

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/738173868991217664/on-a-mission-oz-soldiers-come-out-duo-im

OZ Soldiers, Duo, & Trowa

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/738445694732484609/sharing-a-safehouse-duo-whats-for

Duo & Trowa

https://www.tumblr.com/incorrectgundamwingquotes/739351620230512640/duo-maybe-hes-born-with-it-or-maybe-its

Duo, WuFei, & Trowa

Calendar Events:

@gwcocktailfriday

Cocktail Fridays!

Post responses on Friday, during Happy Hour between 3 & 5 pm in your own timezone.

Here’s the prompts for Friday, January 19th! https://gwcocktailfriday.tumblr.com/post/739456744765505536/cocktail-friday-post-responses-on-friday-january

In need of prompts!

@gwlemonyshenanigans

There’s nothing for it posted yet... but sign-ups are open. >_> Though the events calendar says they’ll be open next month... so I dunno. I just know I’m signed up already. *flails*

@thisweekingundamevents

Events Calendar https://thisweekingundamevents.tumblr.com/post/730188053636841472/updated-events-calendar

If you are hosting an event currently, or are planning on one, hit us up with links and dates! We’ll add them to the Calendar and reblog your notices to get the word out!

GW Holiday Gift Exchange 2023

Gift Roundup is here: https://thisweekingundamevents.tumblr.com/post/739404313112297472/alright-wingers-here-is-the-gw-holiday-gift

GW Valentine’s Event 2024 goes live the 18th! Be on the lookout for it!

???

GW Gift Exchange

There is another exchange being done now... I *think* it’s on dreamwidth, but I can’t find the convo with the person running it to save my life, but it’s on the events calendar with all the info I had...

Jan 15th - 21st is Nominations

Jan 16th - 28th is Sign-ups

Posting and whatnot will be in April.

Not sure if something will be posted anywhere on tumblr or not, but hoping I can get y’all the info for where and how when it goes.

[onomatopagu-et-cie]

@mare-sanguis !

Ohhh now that’s weird, I wonder if there’s some setting on Tumblr to prevent that from happening again and enable you to reblog :C? (I’m new here so I’m sorry, I don’t know how this works ;;)

Thank you so much for putting all these researches together for us, it’s fascinating… !!

I’m not knowledgeable about Biblical exegesis at all (it must be such a dense and nuanced subject!!) and even less about the mention of this ambidextrous angel, I learned lots from your post :o

It definitely feeds into the exploration of judgment in this drama! Be it relevant or not to the symbolism of the story, you made my culture there anyway ;D And reading the Deuteronomy 32 back to back with the themes of the drama is certainly compelling!

(Tbh I even suspect they used the taegeuk/red-blue-white/yin-yang symbolism that can be found for ex. in confucianism & on the SK flag with KMC, KSJ & Joohyun’s characters respectively, I might talk about it in the next post or another one 8D)

I also might be diving into Reach Land but in the scene where KMC hits BGC’s car, he strikes its hood with a rock/stone a viper/cobra! Now I don’t know much about cars brands (perhaps someone has an answer!), but it didn’t seem like a product placement (and we got that A LOT in this drama & in the most obvious ways, so it’d be more on the nose if so!), so potential symbolism here?

The fire symbolism is also clearly there!

Maybe we’ll get more religious symbolism in the next episode, it was only recently in ep. 6 & 7 we got most of the imagery after all!

The No. 1 Fan’s letters were really funky on that note, I wonder how KSJ was under the unshakable impression it was KMC who wrote them o_O (like, dude was ready to cover his deeds as Gaetal as long as he believed it was KMC, unhinged behavior here haha)

In any case, you’re welcome to chat with me anytime if you don’t mind! I believe we’re both suffering from brainrotting over this amazing drama (and I agree this fandom is small!) (づ ´▽｀)づ ♡

(OOOOOH interesting maneuver, I’ll make a mental note to definitely check them out hehe!)

I make some silly headcanons in my head about KSJ’s domestic life with Narae, Jihoon & KMC to cope for what’s happening in the drama back to the present, here’s an accurate representation of me btw:

Let's enjoy tomorrow's episode!!

It seems like I cant reblog this post by @onomatopagu-et-cie it seems like i have to do it manually 🥲

Anyway, we left off at the symbolism of hands- or more who uses what hand and how it, right now, seems like KMC is ambidextrous.

I gathered some information (during class break, so it might be rushed but i'll read over it again as soon as I got enough time) about the "ambidextrous angel" i mentioned.

All highlighted texts are important to the statement I made earlier.

The paper I'm citating is "The Ambidextrous Angel (Daniel 12:7 and Deuteronomy 32:40): Inner-Biblical Exegesis and Textual Criticism in Counterpoint)" by Eugene P. McGarry (the whole of Deuteronomy 32 is pretty interesting and fitting to the whole topic of the drama- I will come back to this at the end of the post, where I dissect the different things I find the most interesting and important)

Eugene starts his paper with this paragraph where he introduces the angel

He later continues by expanding on what the angel does as soon as they set feet on earth. Tho, here its mentioned the angel only uses one hand to swear an oath, yet in the following paragraphs highlighted it shows it varies and its sometimes rather ambiguous and mysterious if one hand is used or two. Something nobody know of its true or not. There also is a man in "linen clothes" mentioned.

The author elaborates on what the man (presumable also the angel) taunts his people

I will just add all the following paragraphs I found interesting one after another, so its easier to read.

And at last we end with a painting description of Albrecht Dürers woodcut "Johannes, das Buch verschlingend/ Der »Starke Engel" (Saint John, swallowing the book/ The mighty Angel), 1498

-> Sheet 8 from the collection: The Apocalypse.

Excellent, deep black and even impression of the Latin text edition from 1511. With fine margins all around, trimmed only at the bottom right edge and at the top edge in the middle up to the border line.

This eighth paper marks the turning point of the end-time events. The criminal judgment against humanity hereby ended. The “Strong Angel” appears to John on the rocky island of Patmos, pointing to the saved souls in the altar at the top left with his hand raised as if in oath. “And I saw another mighty angel coming down from heaven; "He was clothed with a cloud, and had a rainbow on his head, and a face like the sun, and feet like pillars of fire" (Revelation, X, 1). The shapeless angel gives John a book, which he, excited by the words, takes in in order to learn new prophecies. The individual words seem to detach themselves from the pages and flow into Johannes’ mouth. In this way, Dürer symbolizes the divine inspiration that puts the words of his “revelation” into John’s mouth and ultimately moves him to write them down"

-> Now about the Deuteronomy 32

Thats it :,)

I hope i was able to contribute at least a bit to all those hidden symbolisms.

And who ever comes across reading it, I'd love to have a little chat with you to brainrot about it all a little more because so far I have only interacted with two people in this fandom but I really really need more

(oh and this got nothing to do with theories and all but I'd like to mention I published 2 tkv fics to far (KSJ/KMC centered) in tag on ao3, the other 2 should drop in the next few hours...just for anyone whos interested ofc)

[loquaciouslo]

4 / ? | Lesson Learned.

chapter synopsis. just what have you gotten yourself into, little lamb?

pairings. yoongi x reader. jimin x reader. eventual 0t7

genre. a little psychological, smut ✨

word count. 6.9k

next chapter ➸

WARNINGS! dub con / non con ahead, rough sex, sub!reader, a lot of dirty talk, coercion, heavy degradation, slut shaming, manipulation, manhandling, oral (m & f receiving), forced orgasm, spit-roasting, choking, hair pulling, creampie, religious imagery & guilt

author’s note. sorry, everyone, there was technical delays with getting ch 4 posted because tumblr posts = trash glitches but it’s all good now bc i had the time to deal with it, it’s fine! 

I think we’re gonna stay.

The tone of Jimin’s voice is playful, though final. It takes you one, two, three seconds to register what that means for you, flinching when you feel the possessive hand sliding up your spine again. It means to keep you in place. His mouth ghosts over your jaw, nuzzling it, and you feel something faint—oh my god, you realize—is his tongue, soft and moist, against it. You shudder. Despite your proclamations, your body can’t deny that something so simple feels kind of good.

“This is very unorthodox,” You whine both their names, nervous and hyper-aware of your surroundings now. You jump as a presence—Yoongi’s presence—gets closer.

“Turn her around,” Yoongi says, and if either of them heard you, they make no impression to indicate it. Two sets of strong hands are twisting your body around to where they want you, which is to display you like some sort of five-course meal on Jimin’s lap, your back pressed to his lithe chest. This way, you’re spread out for their gazes to drink in. You feel small, smaller than you’ve ever felt, in the here and now.

You have a clear name for the look that swirls in Yoongi’s eyes, and it’s the budding signs of lust. If only you could see yourself through his eyes; your skirt completely scrunched up to your waist, a permanent fixture that serves to accentuate your luscious thighs. Then there’s your blouse, a crinkled mess that barely contains what they conceal, hugging you in perfection. 

“Take this off.” He directs, and just like that, Jimin’s hands are going to undo the first button he feels out, making quick work of the garment. That jump-starts your limps into action, something they were momentarily failing to do before, and in order to preserve your modesty, you pry at the hands that tug and pull at it, scrambling to grip your blouse shut.

“Get off me,” You protest, a fight brewing in you, while you attempt to twist around and dislodge the hands that don’t seem to be hindered by your rebuttals. In fact, it’s like they predict it in advance. Jimin's well ahead of you. 

“Just relax.” Yoongi has the audacity to shush you, leaning over your bowed, struggling form to wind a hand in your locks of hair and grip your head to the side. Hard enough to make you still and stop, your eyes wide and rapt in attention. You gaze into endless brown eyes. Your world closes in on you, having Yoongi’s face so close to yours, his mouth just inches away from kissing you…

And then you remember, you’re just a helpless lamb, trapped in a lion’s den, made to be their next meal. You can't forget that. 

You know there’s something deeply wrong with you when despite having these realizations as they fall upon you, one by one, your fear-addled brain still has the time to admire your assaulter’s face. You can’t help but look from his eyes to his lips next as he talks to you. They look so soft. Or so you’ve imagined, you think hotly, and with ill-timing.

“Look at me.”

You do, lids snapping up. He has your attention now.

“You’re gonna calm down, and you’re gonna stop this—” he gestures to your labored breathing from struggling, “—crap.”

You shiver when his voice drops to a dangerously low level, voice deep. Where is this coming from? Where is this all coming from?  You shiver again. From his voice and from the feeling of cool air caressing your shoulders, your chest, your stomach. Jimin’s talented fingers have managed to get off every last button, leaving the blouse to hang idly off each shoulder, sheer bra, and ample swelling of your breasts exposed. You shake underneath him as the blond runs his hands down your arms.

“She’s shaking, Hyung,” Jimin points out, much to your distress, “she must be nervous.”

Yoongi makes a noise halfway between a sound of recognition and amusement, a twinkle in his eyes.

“You’ve got nothing to be nervous about,” Jimin coos, kissing your shoulder. It doesn’t distract you from the hand that slips underneath the wire of your bra, though. “We just want to get to know you better.”

“All of you,” Yoongi adds, for good and clear measure. He doesn’t bother hiding his smile behind his teeth anymore.

“You don’t—you don’t have to do this,” You protest, heart beating like a rabbit when Jimin’s wandering hand brushes the edge of your panties. Your legs practically draw shut at the intrusion. “Stop—help me—”

“What did I say.” Yoongi interrupts you with a tight squeeze to your throat, causing you to choke out your next syllables and fall quiet altogether. Your heart is furious in your chest, blood pounding in your ears. Your only blessing is that he doesn’t choke you to hurt you. It’s a warning, a small demonstration of what he could do to you if he really wanted to. You understand the message. “Don’t scream.”

A part of you wants to say fuck the consequences and do it anyways. Do it because he’s telling you not to. But Jimin’s way well ahead of you and speaks before you even have the idea to think it.

“Don’t be silly,” Jimin warns, his hands hot on your sides. Yoongi’s hands, with a gentleness that beguiles him, parts your thighs.

“You know everyone’s left and gone home. Everyone except you. And you also know that the next group of people won’t be here for the next several hours when evening service rolls around. So, until then, you’re alone and all ours.”

"Frankly, there's nothing you can do about it.” Yoongi nods in agreement, smacking your thigh when you fail him. “So, behave.”

Your thoughts have gone from anxious, to wild and dangerous. You face one fact: you’re one and they’re two. The chances of you escaping are slim. You’re truly beginning to understand that. One of the pressing questions that overwhelm your mind is why you? Out of everyone, why single you out? You wish you could understand it, you’re trying, but your mind crops up with a blank. This doesn’t make sense. You want it to make sense, but it's so out of your vision.

As your confusion continues to sink in, Yoongi is there to watch it take over. Once he’s sure the truth of the matter has settled in that pretty head of yours, he rewards you with a caress of your cheek and bends down to close what distance between you and him there is. Your thought from earlier comes back full force, hitting you with a dose of butterflies despite your resistance. His mouth against yours feels unbearably soft, like the petals of any fragrant flower. You can smell—even taste something sweet from it, and for half a second you nearly find yourself relaxing. It's like kissing the man you thought he'd be. 

You freeze. That’s a dangerous thought. And this is a dangerous time. Were you really that desperate? Willing to submit with barely a kiss? You’re reminded of the hand around your throat. These aren’t acts of love, of someone who likes me. You can’t let your body get this twisted when you know in your heart that this—all of this—is undeniably wrong. It’s wrong. Just like it’d be wrong for you to even entertain the hunger in their hearts, with you as their possession.

But Yoongi doesn’t think so. He believes differently, thinks otherwise. He takes your confusion as silent affirmation, so what starts off as exploitative pecks against your mouth turns into an insistent nibble at your bottom lip. He wants a taste of you, and he’ll be damned if he lets you deny him that.

“Mm, that’s better.” He hums, happy when you obey. You swallow, on edge. He applies no pressure, so there’s no active threat taking place, but it leaves you breathless from the warning alone it poses. “So pretty when you listen.”

Your ears turn hot at that, your heart squeezing around another stilted breath.

“God, she is,” Jimin leans into your back, his voice hot in your ear. He punctuates that statement with a roll of his hips, just so you can feel the hard length of his cock digging into your bare ass, pressing hot and insistent against you through your thin layers. “Just look at these perky tits, Hyung. Been wanting to feel these for ages."

Jimin hooks his fingers into your bra faster than a kid can blow his birthday candles out. The sheer bra is yanked up over your chest, snapping against your neck. Now bare, both sets of men let out a collective groan; Yoongi’s pupils blowing out at the sight of you. Greedy hands from behind you come to cup them, roll the nipples between their fingers just so you’ll keep squirming in his lap, teasing him with the friction it provides.  

You let out a cry, inching up his surprisingly lithe body, yours overheating at the two sets of hands that grab and pull at you. Yoongi’s eyes bore into yours, watching for every fleck and change in your expression as Jimin pinches one nipple particularly hard. It makes you hiss, much to Yoongi’s delight.

While you’re helpless against their actions, forced to react shamelessly, they’re soaking every inch up, using it and you as fuel for their own arousal.

“See? Doesn’t that feel nice?” Jimin slows down, soothing the nub he just brutalized. “It does, doesn’t it. I wonder what else you’ll let me see.”

It’s Jimin’s hand that rubs you over your underwear, making you choke on your plea. You give it one last go at snapping your legs shut out of instinct, but Yoongi prevents you from doing that, keeping them pinned apart. His face says it all: he dares you to keep it up and see what happens. And then, it’s gone, morphing into something else entirely.

“Jimin’s barely touched you over this slutty pair of underwear, baby, and you’re so responsive.” Yoongi sounds so sweet and yet his words cut. Something hits you in the gut at his words, and you shake your head ‘no’ as if you can shake the notion off.

“They’re—they’re not slutty,” you defend. That’s not true.

“They are,” Jimin affirms. Yoongi nods sagely.

“Look at this lacy shit. Why else would you wear them out if you didn’t want someone to see them?” The blond tells you, as you if you should feel bad for your poor choices. But then he has an epiphany, one that turns his tone into one of entertainment. “I bet you wanted us to see, huh? That’s why you went through the trouble to match.”

“I…I don’t always…” You fail to defend, face hot when he rubs his hand brazenly through your tights. The sensation it elicits causes you to choke on your syllables, shame coursing through you at how easily your body reacts to just a touch and a tease. Your mind knows better, but your body doesn't. 

“You don’t what, baby?” Yoongi hums, voice dripping with intent. He has to readjust his dick in his slacks at the sight of Jimin rubbing you between your legs, causing you to squirm and shudder over him, your face knit into expressions he’s never seen on you before. Not until today. “You don’t always wear lace and blouses this tight? Or skirts this short? Flaunting your perky tits around without any shame, just so Jiminie and I will take pity and notice them?”

That’s not true. You do feel shame. You feel an unspeakable amount of it. Your head drops back against the softness of Jimin’s shoulder, cradled by it. Your eyes begin to swell with the beginning of tears, starting to believe what you thought were once just ill-found accusations, but now you’re not so sure. The reasons you had to defend yourself fade into the background. Haven’t you at least once thought about it? Wearing something just a little flirtatious so they’d think of you the next day? Just fantasies you tried not to indulge in. Maybe you were just as bad as you feared.

Perhaps it’s cruel of them to find even an ounce of pleasure in those opal tears threatening to bubble around the corner of your lashes, but in their defense, you make too provocative of an image to ignore; too pretty of a mess to make out of. In their perspective, you might as well have brought this upon yourself.

“You’re a bad girl,” Yoongi says, a matter of fact, with a glimpse of white teeth. He rids himself of the buttons on his sleeves, rolling them up to his arms. Arms you’ve admired before on the rare occasion he’s wear something with short sleeves. They flex as he crouches down. “A tease. But we’re gonna fix that.”

Yoongi’s hands go for the hemline of your tights, snatching them down your hips like a man with practiced ease. Jimin helps by lifting your ass just enough for the eldest to get them down your thighs, past your knees, until he’s tugging them off along with your heels. You lose the tiniest bit of warmth with your legs now bare and nothing to obstruct Yoongi’s eyes, admiring and hungry, from your core.

“Please,” You tuck your head to the side, arms held still by Jimin’s surprisingly strong hands, just in case you have second thoughts about listening. Truth be told, you don’t know what you’re asking for, but you shiver in nervousness when Yoongi’s close enough to feel his breath against your pelvis. “You don’t have to—ah!”

You’re ashamed of the moan that spills out when he pulls your panties aside and licks a broad stripe along your center. You make no eye contact, eyes falling on the door. The door that Yoongi locked, trapping you here. So long as you don’t look at the man between your legs, violating you with a flick of his soft pink tongue, you can survive the embarrassment of this. Your resolve goes out the window when he pulls your panties down and tosses them somewhere in the room, then back to where he was.

“Hyung,” Jimin murmurs in appreciation, happy to see your panties go wayside. You don’t know what it’s for, but Yoongi does. He takes a minute to answer his companion, too focused on swirling his tongue in search of your clit before diving between your folds to taste the middle. When he finally moves away from your trembling form, it’s with a wicked lick of his lips, shiny with your arousal. Shame practically drowns you. He got you wet, and for what? 

“You’ve got such a sweet little pussy,” He states, unashamed, running two of his fingers through your center. It takes everything in you not to arch into his touch. “I can’t wait to stuff it full of my cock. But first, I think Jiminie deserves some too.”

Your eyes widen at Yoongi’s vulgarity, speechless. A dark part of you doesn’t mind the idea, more fearful of the unknown than anything. More than you are disgusted. Your pelvic muscles clench as the turmoil for yourself builds. Yoongi can see it written all over your face as he picks apart your myriad of emotions. 

“I sure fucking do,” Jimin growls, thrusting up into your ass while his fingers come down to meet Yoongi’s. He dips his finger between your folds too, collecting your wetness between his fingers. You gasp at the invasion as he pulls them away to give his fingers a look. His eyes practically darken at the results. “You’re wet from just this? Hyung, get her ass on the couch. I want her on her back.”

Yoongi follows his request, grabbing both your arms and maneuvering you around like a little old rag doll, pushing you onto your back. You hit the cushions with a soft bounce, watching as Jimin switches places with Yoongi so fast you can hardly blink first. He looks at you like you’re not even y/n anymore, you’re something to objectify, and you can see the desire that takes over the dark depths of his pretty rounded eyes.

You can’t believe someone so sweet and innocent looking could be so full of raw sin and bad intentions.

“Finally,” The blond exhales, eyes glued to your glistening lips. He thinks you look positively juicy like this, despite your efforts to hide it with your hands, blocking his line of vision.

“Stop looking,” You raise your voice as you command it, far more demanding in their opinion than you have any right to be.

“Impossible, Jagi.” He shifts back on the couch to hover his face over your core, pillow lips grazing your inner thigh. "Remember, you’re mine right now. I’m gonna look all I want.”

His mouth descends on you, and your pelvis does jerk away when he wastes nothing to find your clit, rolling his tongue around it in tight little circles when it's found. Doesn’t he care that Yoongi’s mouth was just on you? Doesn’t he mind sharing? You’ve never known two men who were so gung-ho about going after the same girl. Usually, there’s jealousy involved, but usually, it's just not done like this. What you do see is teamwork in keeping you at their mercy. You're so screwed. 

You try to avoid that fact by covering your face since your arms have some freedom to do as they want. You squeeze your eyes shut, blocking out the sensations Jimin’s energetic tongue rises out of you. Yoongi won’t have that; he wants you to suffer from the pleasure you experience. He wants you to cave; he wants you begging.

Yoongi pins your wrists down as your hips thrust off the couch, straight against the pressure of Jimin’s flickering tongue, and just as quickly drop, a bashful cry leaves you, eyes consumed with confusion and leaking tears. Jimin pulls you down the couch some more to get better control of you. You wish you weren’t so sensitive, making it so easy for them to manipulate your body to how they see fit.  

It’s mortifying how easy and fast he brings you closer and closer to your peak, sucking you with just the right alternating moves and soothing licks. He regards you closely, noting every twitch spasm of your thighs, listening for every gasp of air you haul in. He won’t relent until you’re shivering underneath him, tightening his grip on your thighs to keep you down. He doesn’t want you running away from his mouth when you’re so close to tipping over and he's going to bring you there. He can feel it, taste it on his tongue.

“Please—Please don’t, please stop, I d-don’t want to cum,” You babble, shaking your head as you look up at Yoongi, pleading with half-lidded eyes. “I don't want to do this, please guys, I can’t—”

“Too bad, baby,” Yoongi denies you, thumbing your wrist. You don’t call the shots here, he does.

You never get a chance to say anything back, rendered a babbling mess as Jimin’s tongue takes you to your peak in just a matter of minutes, stars blinding the corners of your eyes. You chant something you can’t quite hear from yourself, but it has both men smiling as wide as two sharks as you come down, panting and huffing. Jimin’s tongue continuous to lap at you, drinking you in, and when it’s time for him to pull away you’re confused when he doesn’t.

He just squeezes your thighs, refusing to let them go. To let you go. He keeps at it, running his tongue over you to collect your wetness, slurping it away until there’s nothing left. Not until you make more. Jimin eats you out like he’s enjoying his last meal and he wants to savor every swallow. Mercilessly he goes back to lapping at your clit, ignoring your pleas for him to give up.

“I can’t—It’s too much, it’s too much—” But Jimin pointedly ignores you and your cries to stop. You won't make it, not with how badly your legs are shaking, your hips twisting in vain in his grip. The fact that you can’t move very far or effectively increases your sense of helplessness, forcing you to realize that you have to take everything that Jimin gives you. There isn't a no. Not one that matters to him. You quake under Yoongi’s tight hold around your wrists, attempting to jerk them free. Anything to push away Jimin’s wicked, punishing mouth.

“You can and you will,” Jimin purrs against you, kitten licks against your quivering clit.

Jimin looks positively feral, one thick finger pressed gently against your hole, teasing it by circling it. He pushes in, brows furrowed, up till the first knuckle and mutters a curse for everyone to hear. “When’s the last time anyone’s fucked you, Jagi? You’re so tight.”

“Answer him,” Yoongi says when you don’t.

“I—I don’t know,” You sputter between labored breaths, words frantic and unwilling to give such a personal part of yourself away. You bite your lip, hard. “At least a few… a few years.”

“Isn’t that a shame and a blessing,” Jimin hums like he's happy to hear that, and pushes his finger in the rest of the way, nudging you deeper than even you’ve ventured in a long time. Jimin lets out another curse as you throw your head back, ashamed at how good it feels to feel Jimin’s tongue back where it was while he slowly pumps a finger in. You’re not so sure you can handle another orgasm so soon.

You don’t get to make the decisions, however, when Jimin goes back to hyper-fixating on what's between your legs, making noises you’ve never heard a man make before. Not like this. Then again, you’ve never been eaten out as enthusiastically as now and you’ve never had two orgasms in a row from someone. Jimin’s not inexperienced, you can tell by the way he's learning to read your resisting body. He watches you reach your peak again; another grand crescendo is about to befall you. With the added stimulation of a second finger pushing in past the first, it’s too much sensation at once.

I can’t handle this, I can’t, you shudder, feeling as if your body is going to go crazy. Warmth spreads throughout every inch of you. It washes over you in waves, reminiscent of the blinding sun behind your eyes. There’s a moment of extreme tiredness that washes over you too, all from cumming for the second time within a matter of minutes. You’re a trembling mess once he’s done with you, eyes downcast and hazy.

Briefly, you catch out of the corner of your eye the three bibles that lay haphazard on the table, reminding you of your place in this. You feel shame hit every deep, sensitive, guilty nerve, snapping your head in the other direction. Was this all a plan? A ruse? To get you alone, and vulnerable...

“So good, and so fucking wet for me,” Jimin smacks his perfect pillow lips, his words ringing in your ears. It takes a while for your senses to come back to you, and then you’re disorientated all over again when Jimin drops your thighs and Yoongi gets up. You notice the warmth of his lap is immediately gone, leaving you to be hot and flushed all by yourself. You lay there, not ready to move or be moved.

Jimin bends down and crawls over your body, shielding you from the room’s light and casting you in his shadow. He looks down at you, a predator’s stare, and when your shifty eyes drift down you can see how hard he is, slacks tented and strained. For a moment you think he’s about to kiss you, but he ducks his head, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You can feel his lips on the skin there, licking, biting, sucking until blood rushes to the surface and leaves a deep red hickey in its wake. You squirm the whole time, mouth open and incapable of holding back your voice as he leaves something of himself on you.

“You’re really vocal. I love that.” He says when he’s done, satisfied with his work. “And guess what? It’s time for you to get down.”

He grins, lifting you up by the head with him. He pulls you into his chest as he stands, and you’re almost thankful for it because of your wobbling legs. Cumming twice wiped you out, leaving you a mess of unstable nerves.

You let out a totally undignified yelp when Yoongi spins you around and aids you into a kneeling position. This way you’re face to face with his hand as goes to undo his zipper, pulling out what you can only describe as a cock you don’t think is going to fit in you. You swallow thickly, eyes shifting from side to side, your hands twitching in your lap. Uncertainty has never felt so deep.

“Here’s what you’re gonna do,” Yoongi smiles something absolutely sinful, expectation and excitement written all over him. You peek at the revealed skin you’ve never once thought you were going to bear actual witness to. “You’re gonna get up on your knees and you’re gonna put my cock in your mouth.”

Yoongi licks his lips, waiting for you to comply. Jimin really likes you like this based on how hard he's chewing on his lip. To them, you’re like a well-wrapped present on Christmas morning they can’t wait to tear it open and get their fingers in. There’s just something undeniably pleasing about making a mess out of someone that once looked so perfectly put together. When you make no move, stunned by his bluntness, he decides to make it happen by gripping your hair and helping you there.

“Suck,” The eldest instructs, and red in the cheeks you slowly do, much to his satisfaction. You don’t get a say in the matter when Yoongi takes a hold of your jaw, angling you just right so your mouth is aligned with the head of his cock. You open your mouth without prompting, and he swirls the velvety head against your plump lips, wetting them with the bit of pre-cum that’s gathered there, before feeding you the first couple of inches. You handle it perfectly well, but you forgot about what the burn of a stretching jaw felt like, having something so hot and heavy in your mouth. “That’s a good girl. Look at me while you do it.”

“I guess she can follow directions.” Jimin snickers, distracting you. Yoongi gives your cheek a light tap, redirecting you. “Who knew all she needed was a good cock in her.”

Your ears prickle at hearing Jimin talk like that, a spider-like sensation skittering down your spine as you work Yoongi with your tongue, lapping at the underside of his cock. All for the sake of self-preservation, you convince yourself, you’ll be earnest in your efforts to please him. When you pull back to take in some air, he grips your hair tighter, holding you there while he thrusts his hips. You can see the twitch in his thigh muscles strain as he does, groaning when he hits the back of your throat, your eyes watering. You look up at him like he told you to. You don’t want to be smacked any harder, just in case he has that in mind.

“Where’d you learn how to suck cock so good, baby?” You’re too busy trying not to gag to answer, artlessly attempting to swallow around him. And that’s okay, he doesn’t mind. It’s better this way. “You suck like a little slut.”

“Fuck, that’s really hot,” Jimin huffs and you can hear him shuffling next to you, “just don’t hog her, Hyung.”

Yoongi forces you to take another inch, but you resist, putting your hands on his thighs to push him away. You helplessly try to prevent it from going down your throat, but Yoongi holds you there until he’s happy, letting the saliva build up in your mouth and get him nice and wet. Your throat just feels so good butterflying around the head of his cock, making him shudder in pure pleasure.

When he’s done with you, he pulls out, a string of saliva trailing. You use this opportunity to gasp for air, clutching at your throat. Your throat burns from the unexpected intrusion, a slight ache in your jaw from being used.

Your reprieve doesn’t last long. Jimin hauls you back up on your knees, so you sit up properly. You want to ask for some mercy, but your pride gets the best of you. It’s one of the few things that have remained intact. Not unlike your sensitive and bruised nipples. Not your pussy, wet from their mouths and your own arousal wetting your thighs, much to your mortification.

The head of another dripping cock is pressed to your lips, urging you to open wide for him. Jimin’s used what’s gathered there to lubricate his shaft, making it easier to stroke himself. He’s still heady with the faint taste of you and now he can’t wait to feel your warm, wet mouth wrapped around him, just like your pussy is gonna be. He swears it’s a dream come true when you finally take him into your mouth, muttering under his breath. It was difficult enough having Yoongi in your mouth, but Jimin's a little thicker and that makes it tougher for you, causing you to let out a mild whimper. 

Jimin takes to holding the back of your head too, tilting it just right so he can feel the bulge of his cock inside your cheek. His mouth parts, tongue peeking out to lick one luscious lip. It’s too much. His shaft twitches when you suck him in, pumping your head back and forth of your own volition. You should hate the way he sounds when he moans—it’s so pretty to your ears when it shouldn’t be. The way his eyelashes flutter shut, unable to prevent the jerk of his hips, fucking into your mouth in slow, steady strokes.

“Good girl,” Jimin praises, those half-lidded eyes on you. Another urge rolls around in your tummy, wanting to hide your face from the intimate and depraved acts you’re performing for them. “Get it nice and wet for me so I can fuck that sweet pussy. God, I can’t wait. And you’re gonna fucking take it.”

With that, Jimin lets out a snarl, pulling you off with another wet plop. His cock stands proud, thick, and glistening, so close to nudging your cheek.

“Get on that fucking couch,” He tells you. You turn around to look at Yoongi, who’s been enjoying the free show with a languid stroke of his cock. It looks like you’re never fast enough for them, so Jimin manhandles you there, knocking you onto your knees so your face hovers over Yoongi’s occupied lap. Jimin’s ready even if you’re not.

“I don’t want to hear a word from you unless it’s moaning like the little slut you are,” His words cut through your carefully held together façade. He says it so matter of fact, just like Yoongi did. You're a slut. 

“I’m—I’m not,” You hang your head, waiting for that tell-tale sign of Jimin pressing his weeping cock to your entrance. He doesn’t just shove it in, thank god, because you definitely wouldn’t be able to stay quiet if he did that. But he could, your mind supplies, with how fucking wet you are. Maybe you are a slut. Maybe they are right, and they’re just seeing the real you; the dirty, guilty you.

The more they say it, and the more you think it, the more truth you start to see in it.

“What did I say,” Jimin smacks your ass, making you flinch away. He smacks you again for that too.

You open your mouth to respond, but your words get stuck in your throat. For half a second you find yourself about to apologize for not listening, for moving when you shouldn’t have. He’s just trying to fill you up as you deserve, but there is a part of you that understands the severity of the situation you’re in. It’s not right for you to apologize, even if you do listen to what he says in the end.

You stay still, your trembling in trepidation when he pushes the head in. Your pussy doesn’t resist him, too slick not to. Jimin can tell by the way you squeeze around him that it’s going to be a tight fit. It makes his hips buck, gentleness and slowness all but abandoned as he abruptly thrusts in the rest of the way, filling you to the brim. It takes everything in you not to wail, grasping the nearest thing in front of you: Yoongi’s lean thigh, fingernails digging into the flesh.

He tolerates the pinch of pain, petting your hair. It throws you off how gentle he is, so at odds with his currently severe persona and the way Jimin pistons his hips into your ass, cheeks clapping, your pussy wrapped around him like you were made to be fucked. And from behind, Jimin thinks the perfect shape of your ass and the curve of your waist is the hottest sight he’s ever seen. It’s second to the way your hair sways when he grabs you by the hips and throws you back onto his cock, huffing from the exertion.

Yoongi’s tired of not having at least half your attention, so he’s guiding your mouth to his straining cock as he watches you being taken from behind. Jimin makes sure to leave no inch of you unfilled, hitting the deepest spots inside of you; deeper than any of your fingers could ever go, deeper than they’ve ever gone. It has you seeing stars, biting your bottom lip to hold back your frustrations, only to fail miserably. You can barely keep Yoongi’s cock in your mouth from all the jostling. Your vision spins when he buries himself to the hilt, your back bowing naturally in response.

“She’s so fucking tight, Hyung,” He hisses, barely out of stamina. He pumps into you nice and deep, pulling one of your legs back on the couch when you start to slip. Bending over, he reaches under you to briefly cup one of your breasts, squeezing, cupping, pinching your already hard nubs. His dick twitches inside you, hardening even more, and you can tell he’s about to come. He’s about to cum inside you.

“J-Jimin—” You whine, whipping your head back to look at him, eyes pleading not to. You’re all but ignored. The blond’s too far gone to stop let alone process what you’re asking of him, and before you know it, he’s rocking his well-defined hips into you, cock twitching as he paints your insides. 

“Ah—” He pants, rocking to a stop. He doesn’t pull out right away, leaning over to kiss your ear, smiling with the most sated and relaxed expression on his face. “Your pussy feels too fucking good, Jagi. I want to do it again.”

And then he does pull away, reluctantly so, and leaves you on your trembling knees, admiring the way your pussy looks when the first ooze of his cum comes dripping out. He’s fast to stuff it back in with a few of his fingers, brandishing another kiss to one of your ass cheeks.

“It’s Hyung’s turn,” He smiles, patting it. 

“That’s right,” Yoongi murmurs, voice thick and sweet as molasses, patting his lap. There’s not a second to spare. “Come here.”

You look at him apprehensively, doing as you’re told, nonetheless. You know what this means, and you swing your leg over Yoongi’s lap with your hands crossed over your chest. You don’t want to flaunt them in his face, but that’s exactly what he wants.

“Move your arms out of the way unless you want me to make you.” He orders. “Put them behind your back.”

You follow his directions, uncertain where this is going. What Yoongi’s going to do to you. He’s so demanding that you never would have expected this side of a quiet, polite Yoongi. With your arms crossed, his cock rests just a few inches away from your aching entrance. The look on his face as he looks between the two of your bodies, so close to connecting, says he wants to be inside you more than anything. He’s wanted it the second he locked the door behind you; the second he got to watch Jimin fuck you like your body was just something to get himself off.

Yoongi growls at the thought, incensed, and once he gets you in the right position, he’s settling his hands on your hips and shoving you down in one fell swoop. You sob, the burn still evident. Not as bad as Jimin, but close enough to remember for the next several days. It’s overstimulating, tears resurfacing as he wastes no time bouncing you up and down on his cock without care.

You let out a string of noises as Yoongi fucks up into you relentlessly, slamming you down his length with the perfect timing of his thrusts. He’s waited too long to be patient any longer. You’re afraid of losing your balance at this rate, and when you start to lean forward a little too much, he snags one of your breasts in his mouth and yanks you back by your soft hair. He can smell the shampoo you use, caressing his sense of smell as it tickles his face.

“That’s it,” He moans, growling as he keeps your back bowed, finding a particularly vicious rhythm. Your face is scrunched in pure ecstasy, and he swears your pussy clenches around him so tight it’s like it’s trying to milk him for all he’s worth. “Make me cum.” 

You don’t protest this time, knowing it’s too late and too pointless to try and prevent what’s to happen. You hiccup another pathetic moan, shaking your head despite the undeniable.

“You’re squeezing me so tight,” Yoongi jeers, the smacking of your bodies joining ringing loud in the quiet room. His lap is wet with your juices. He swears he can feel your next orgasm building up against your will, based on how your pussy flutters around him, and it excites him ten-fold. He doubles his efforts, fingernails digging into your hips, goaded on by his own lust. There are going to be bruises tomorrow, definitely, based on how it burns. “Your pussy is making the most obscene sounds, too. And yet you want to act like you don’t want every inch of our cocks, you lying slut.”

You’ve come twice, so getting to your third doesn’t take long, not when Yoongi fucks you like a toy on his lap. Your arms are starting to ache behind your back, but it just adds to the boiling heat in your gut. Jimin helps you out by holding both your wrists easily with his hand to keep you angled just right. You can feel it coming, you’re so, so close, if Yoongi just kept going, kept hitting that spot inside you, you’d be pushed over the edge in a matter of seconds.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot—” And then Yoongi is cursing, hips slamming into you once, twice, and then he’s filling you up nice and thick with spurts of his cum. You can feel it leak out, heart heavy, and core throbbing with the lack of release. You sob, denied. It’s possibly one of the worst feelings ever, nearly reaching your high only to have it stop like a lover leaving in the night.

Yoongi keeps you seated in your lap, letting his dick slowly soften in you while he takes a moment to catch his breath, his long neck exposed when he tilts it over the couch headrest. Black hair falls off his forehead. You’re breathing just as hard, afraid you were going to break in the end. Your thighs burn with the intensity of such a workout, even though Yoongi did most of the work getting you to get him off. 

It seems by the knowing look in Yoongi’s eyes and the flick of his tongue that he knew you were close to your peak. Close to cumming all over his cock. But the look on your face when you were denied in the end? Couldn't put a price tag on it. He’s imprinted everything he’s just borne witness to in his memory. 

You swear you’re not bitter about it.

You should be thankful you didn’t cum. You’re not supposed to have wanted any of this. Now that it’s over, all you want to do is curl in on yourself, keenly aware of your nudity and their lack of it.

“Next time, if you’re a really good girl...” Jimin coos, coming to your side. A smile plays at his lips. He’s already tucked himself back into his pants, already making himself more presentable than your state of being. “... we might make you cum again.”

Just as you catch your breath, your heart stops, your whole body racked with tension.

“... Next time?” You choke out, feeling like your world just came down around you.

next chapter: aftermath ➸

[allhallowsthemepark]

Half-a-ween Special: A Full Calendar of Spookiness!

Friends, today is Half-a-ween—the day of the year on the exact opposite side of the calendar from our beloved Halloween—and I thought, what better time to remind ourselves that All Hallows is a year-round celebration of the dark and spooky side of life! Operating the whole year, of course, means having to contend with other holidays as they arise. I touched on the crossover potential between Halloween and Christmas a while back, but holidays have a habit of cropping up in every season, and it seems only fitting to fill the All Hallows calendar with appropriately spooky twists on them all!

For our first shake-up, we’re starting this calendar not in January, but in November—right after Halloween itself, and just when we might be wondering what else we could do with All Hallows now that it’s raison d’être is past.

Dia de Los Muertos: Let’s be clear—Dia de los Muertos is not just “Mexican Halloween,” and I don’t think it’s right to go around poaching bits of other people’s cultures for entertainment. That said, there are some similar themes between the Day of the Dead and Halloween, and if a special event could be done respectfully and with full permission and consultation by the Mexican-American community, it could be a good way to ease the park down from the full-blown frenzy of Halloween itself. Dia de los Muertos events would be located in Ghoul City, and in the expanded version of the park, Croaker Creek (for the Southwestern aesthetic) and History of Horror (for the educational aspect).

Thanksgiving: Pumpkin Acres is our Thanksgiving hub, what with already exemplifying the harvest aspect of Halloween with its cornstalks, scarecrows, pumpkin and apple pies, and other bits of cozy rural Americana. For Thanksgiving, live turkeys are added to Harry Palmer’s Petting Farm, Country Costumes adds Pilgrim garb and turkey suits to its wares, and the pumpkin patch transforms into a farmer’s market selling actual edible produce (including pumpkins, still...but now they're explicitly for pies). Make a reservation for a genuine turkey dinner at Granny McGillicuddy's Pie Barn...and if slots run out, similar meal events are available in other park restaurants!

Christmas: A couple years ago, I devoted a whole post to Christmas possibilities for All Hallows. I still stand by all of it. Hexmas imagery forms the backbone of the Yuletide festivities, with spooky black evergreens in the Entry Plaza, Trick-or-Treat Village, and Ghoul City. Goblin Woods and County Drakul host folkloric monsters as walkaround characters. Meanwhile, people who prefer a more conventional Christmas can head into Pumpkin Acres, where things are a bit more mainstream. All across the park, you can shop for Christmas-themed costumes, and Grave Goods stocks a few bona-fide Christmas decorations alongside the more typical Hexmas ones.

New Year’s: Interestingly enough, the ancient Celts marked the turning of the year at Samhain and many neopagans still observe it as their religious New Year. That said, raucous New Year celebrations are generally considered an urban phenomenon, so head to Ghoul City for the special events (and Baby New Year/Father Time costumes, if you think you need them). Strange things happen when the clock counts down to midnight...and nothing new can start without something else meeting its end...

Lunar New Year: Lunar New Year, as its name suggests, is tied to the phases of the moon. That alone suggests some interesting crossover ideas, but there's more content to be had in focusing on the East Asian cultural aspect with its deep well of horror lore. Chinese hopping vampires, Japanese youkai, Vietnamese ghosts and monsters...expect to see them all wandering the place, along with the animals of the Eastern zodiac itself.

Valentine’s Day: Not to be crass about it, but “monsterfucking” became the Tumblr equivalent of a household word for a reason. Quite a few people seem to fantasize about romance with one or more creatures of the night. Valentine's Day festivities are more touchy-feely than other occasions at All Hallows...or any theme park, really. In this adults-only special event, roaming characters are fully empowered to flirt with guests and even engage in some low-level physical contact (e.g. hugging, hand-holding). The interactions range from the sultry to the silly and everything in-between (but nothing too intense).

Carnavale/Mardi Gras: This one isn't a big deal where I live, so I don't have any firm ideas for specific events or attractions, but I'll just point out two things. First, this holiday shares with Halloween a tradition of masks and costumes, so expect to see a lot more colorful sequins and feathers on the shelves of the costume stores. Second, the etymology of the word “carnival” apparently comes from the Latin root for “flesh.” There's probably something we can do with that.

Easter: What do Easter and Halloween have in common? CANDY! What else do they have in common? Um...things rising from the dead...no, I'm sorry, I can't. I'm not Christian but I'm not about to make a mockery of their holiest day like that. Better stick with the candy. The Easter celebrations in All Hallows can be found in Trick-or-Treat Village, where the characters sport bunny ears and hand out trick-or-treat prizes inside specially patterned plastic eggs.

May Day/Half-a-ween: On this, the polar opposite day to Samhain, the Seelie and Unseelie faeries are said to do battle with each other for control of the natural world! If you dance the maypole in Goblin Woods, you might catch a glimpse of this conflict (read: battalions of bloodthirsty fae will appear without warning and skirmish without regard for bystanders). Elsewhere in the park, the delightful irony of Half-a-ween, or “Halloween in May,” is reflected in window displays and roaming character dialogue.

Summer: Goblin Woods comes to the fore again with “A Midsummer Night's Nightmare,” a full-scale LARP adventure for teams of 4-6 players (reservations required). In Ghoul City, the Gilman Municipal Beach area becomes the site of a tongue-in-cheek Monster Beach Party event. Pumpkin Acres is all about the Summer Harvest, with delicious summer produce and watermelons carved like jack-o-lanterns. These events run all summer long until Labor Day weekend (we Americans are weird and place it in early September), by which point we're all sick of the heat and ready for Halloween season proper to begin again!

All Year Long: Keep an eye on your calendar and plan visits for evenings marked with a white circle, even if they fall in the middle of the week. The night of the full moon is Werewolf Night in Ghoul City, Goblin Woods, and County Drakul, and each month bears a sub-theme of its own, with photo ops, collectible merch, and more! And if a second full moon hits in one calendar month? That's the fabled Blue Moon, bringing twice the spooky magic!

And that's how you celebrate Halloween the whole year round.

[farfromstrange]

Foreigner's God: Chapter 7

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC

Chapter Summary: There is something incredibly off about Tony’s behavior, and Eliza decides she can’t do it anymore. She’s done. The fight leads to several revelations. One, she might be going slightly insane and two, Clinton Church is actually quite the nice place to go to if you’re having a panic attack. Other than that, Matt is still himself. While that might lead to some tension between them, she’s never been happier to have a place to go to that isn’t lonely, and he cares. This friendship might just be all she needs, after all.

Warnings: this is so long, mentions of drug abuse, alcohol consumption, there’s some foreshadowing, Tony Stark is being slandered, a phone call with Peter, hallucinations, panic attack, religious imagery, confession, praying, S3 spoilers, Eliza’s ever-lasting guilt, arguing, yelling, daddy issues (not the sexy kind), crying, not feeling good enough, some bad humor & cliché age gap joke

Other characters: Natasha, Steve, Thor, Bruce, Tony, Clint, Peter Parker, Father Lantom & Sister Maggie, also some random homeless man just trying to help a girl out

Word Count: ~ 10k

A/n: I tried working out some of my own religious trauma with this one and also… well, this shit is plot-heavy so you might need a clear head to read this. If anyone asks, no I’m not okay. And no, Tony just acts like an asshole. He ISNT the villain. Still haven’t done him dirty enough, but we’ll soon be done with the slander. The next chapter will be posted tonight as well!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!

Read Chapter 7: right where you left me Here on AO3!

18+ MINORS DNI

The first time Eliza Bennett met Tony Stark was the day Loki destroyed New York. She’d only been working for SHIELD for a short amount of time back then, trying to get accustomed to her new life, her new identity. It’s safe to say she has always been exceptionally good at it. At being an Agent, being a hero, and every other thing way beyond her maturity level. She was never taught any better. Being an Agent in the field resembled her life at Hydra almost down a tee. Except she wasn’t killing people and she had her own free will, which was nice, but also not so much. She followed orders but she had a choice to stay or to start a new somewhere, get a taste of that human lifestyle everyone kept telling her about. It was new and scary, and she hated the fact that it didn’t feel like her.

May 3rd, 2012.

She was undercover at a gala when she heard the static rushing in her earpiece. “Mission’s over,” Natasha said. 

“What?” Eliza looked down at the glass of Martini in her hand, then back at the dance floor on which the Senator she was watching kept twirling his date around. “I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet,” she said. “I practiced my tango, like you told me to. It’d be a shame if I couldn’t show it off!”

The woman laughed. “I’d love to see it, but this is urgent. Pack up! We’re going back on the Helicarrier. I’ve got someone else covering our Russian spy senator and his bimbo.”

“Don’t call her a bimbo, Nat.“

“But it’s true. Admit it.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Eliza left the party, the black limousine waiting for her at the entrance. The nice valet opened her the door, but he was dangerously pale around the nose. She cocked her head. Someone had been threatening him.

Natasha sat in the dark of the backseat, holding a file. She should’ve expected the redhead to make her appearance so soon. Urgent meant nothing less than time sensitive and when it came to matters with such a label, she was always first on every scene.

“Wait, weren’t you just in some Russian guy’s lair?” she asked her.

“Yeah, Coulson bailed me out. Threatened the guy. I almost had him. Ended up kicking his ass like the little bitch he was.”

“Did you get the intel?”

“What do you take me for?”

“Of course, you did. So, what’s up? What’s up with the urgency?”

“I know you’ve never done this before,” Natasha said. She handed the file over, her hand enveloped in black leather gloves. “But the fate of the world depends on it, and we could really use your help right now.”

She opened the brown folder, the first page a picture of a glowing blue box. “The tesseract,” Eliza choked out. An object with the most magnetic pull.

Fury never once allowed her to be less than ten feet of it. She had to stay in the circle. Why, she didn’t know, but he had his reasons. 

“Yes, it’s recently come into possession of a, uh… I don’t know what he is. An alien? Some guy with greasy hair and a spear. He’s not of this world, that’s for sure. He stole it from the base earlier tonight.”

“This thing has unimaginable power. How could he just steal it?”

“As I said, he’s an alien. And he’s Thor’s brother. Turn the page.” She did. The next series of pictures were screenshots from the security cameras. The man with black hair stared straight at the screen. He was attractive, sure, but the crazy in his eyes killed the mood.

“Jesus.” Eliza shook her head. Somehow the glow of his scepter felt… familiar? It was just a picture, it was probably stupid, but she felt drawn to it nonetheless. “What’s the procedure?” she questioned. 

Natasha smirked. “We’re getting the band back together.”

With the band, she meant the Avengers. The Avengers Initiative failed before. Imagine her surprise when the pair set foot on the Helicarrier to find the group of unlikely allies meddled together for the first time ever. None of them looked like they belonged there.

“I could imagine better things than to be trapped on here with the Hulk,” she told Natasha. “And the guy whose brother is currently threatening to take over the world.”

“He’s still my brother!” Thor snapped from somewhere in the distance.

“He killed eighty people in two days.”

“Well, he’s adopted.”

“And I’m a former Hydra operative. What’s your point?”

“See, so even you have made mistakes, earthling.”

Eliza glared at the blond man. He was attractive. He was tall and muscular and every woman’s dream. In that moment though, all he did was infuriate her to the point, her blood boiled.

“Don’t call me earthling, you daft Asgardian Shakespeare.”

“I feel like you have been misinformed about me. I’m Thor, the God of-“

“Thunder, yeah, I know. I don’t care.” She turned to the rest of the team. “If I end up squashed,” - she pointed at Bruce - “under the edge of a Vibranium shield,” - she pointed at Captain America - “shot with an arrow through the eye,” - her eyes narrowed at Clint - “hit with a magic hammer or ATTACKED BY A FUCKING METAL SUIT, MISTER STARK!” Tony felt her finger poke deep into his chest. “I will make sure we all die up here,” she finished. “You got that?”

But Natasha taught her all about control, so she swallowed the red threatening to expose her and focused back on the task at hand.

Tony was actually the only one to eye her with curiosity instead of fear. “Do they usually start this young?” he asked. 

Eliza used to be a very superstitious person. She didn’t trust anyone outside of her fellow Agents and even then she kept her distance. She was a scared girl in a big world, not knowing who she was or how she got there, with powers raging inside of her that she couldn’t quite grasp. The Avengers were a pool of strangers that she was tossed in without ever having learned how to swim.

So, naturally, when Tony made his jokes, she put her guard up. “No,” she told him, “We usually start younger.”

“So, baby spies?” He’s never been a particularly serious person.

It was twisted that this was the thing that enthralled him about her. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut for the life of him. Eliza was so frustrated to the point where she considered putting a bullet through his iron suit. Though when he flew that missile into space, she couldn’t help but pay her respects to his heroic antics. The careless man she’d met before somehow appeared in a different light then.

“You’re a great kid,” Tony said to her after the battle. “We should do this again sometime.”

That was four years in the past. 

Eliza warmed up to Tony instantly. The respectful, caring side of him. It was the original reason why she agreed to move into Avengers Tower in the first place. She ditched SHIELD for the Avengers. He mentored her. Tony was the first person after Fury to see something in her, willing to do just about anything to bring it out in her. 

Tony Stark made her feel loved for the first time in her life. Perhaps that’s why it hurt so much to see their once so-invincible bond break apart. 

Eliza asked herself where exactly they went wrong. Was it something she did or something she could’ve prevented? As so often, there was nothing to explain Tony’s behavior other than the fact that he was just Tony. 

Tony wasn’t the man he used to be, and he certainly didn’t portray as the kind of person he wanted to be. He turned from an idol into an antagonist – Eliza wished it would’ve been a sudden change, but reflecting on the past two years she realized it was meant to happen.

Eliza knew better than to try and make him see. He had to fall head-first into the abyss to realize his mistakes. He needed a swift kick in the ass and an excellent punch to the face. She couldn’t do that. Life had to do it to him.

Like Steve once said to her, “If holding onto something hurts you more than letting go, you need to let it go. If it’s meant to be, it’ll come back to you. If it’s not, at least you got rid of the pain.”

By the time Happy pulled up to the compound, Eliza accepted the fact that it would never be the same again. She had to let go eventually. She would give him one last chance, she decided, and if he decided to turn around and shit on it, she would take Steve’s advice and save herself. For once in her life, she had to listen. Holding onto the wrong people was her best talent, but sometimes even talent has to be laid off to protect your fragile little heart. 

“We’re here,” Happy snapped her out of her thoughts.

She dreaded every step into the compound. Her heart beat up to her throat. The oxygen supply sank with every passing second.

Eliza took the familiar road to Tony’s office. He was waiting for her behind the door. She hesitated, hand on the handle. She hated confrontation. She didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t her turn to apologize, but somehow she felt like she had to. Sad, wasn’t it? He had her judging guilty without even trying, even when she didn’t need to. She was just that dependent on his approval. 

She pushed the thoughts away. She wasn’t a child anymore, she was an adult. Adults don’t make their lives dependent on one person, no matter how much they mean to them. Adults are supposed to stand their ground. She had to learn how to do that. She did it the previous night, she could do it again. Tony didn’t own her.

“You came,” Tony’s voice sounded breathy, hungover, from the corner of the room.

Eliza exhaled, a mix between a sigh and a scoff. “You left me no choice,” she said. “Sending Happy to my place was a desperate move.”

“I couldn’t reach you. At first, I thought maybe you lost your phone, but then I realized you blocked my number. If anything, you left me no choice. I wanted to talk to you without dozens of people around to ask stupid questions.”

“Why?”

“You left before I could talk to you last night.”

“Seriously? You’re just gonna act like this is all it is? Miscommunication?”

Tony scoffed. She saw the bottle of Scotch on his table, the half-filled glass. It was ten in the morning.

“Are you drunk again?” she asked.

“You don’t get to do that.”

“I don’t mind day drinking, I only mind hypocrisy.”

“I asked you here to apologize for what I said.” He took a sip.

“You were drunk, Tony.”

“And I’m sorry for that. I had one too many drinks because I didn’t want to face Secretary Ross sober. Every time I see him, I’m reminded of Rogers and what he did.”

“What Steve did?” Eliza glared. “You both screwed up! It wasn’t just him.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“It kind of seems like you don’t.”

“Give me a break!” 

She flinched away. Her eyes fluttered close, her feet carried her a step back, and her arms instantly lifted themselves in front of her chest as if physically defending herself was going to block the words from entering her ears. It didn’t. 

Tony’s frown crumbled. He didn’t have the power of empathy on his side, but he saw the fear displayed in her eyes and he felt a sudden ping of regret. “I’m sorry,” he said, quieter this time. He opened his arms - a peace offering. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

“You’re drunk,” she whispered. The tears stung behind her still-closed lids. “You’re drunk,” she said once again. She opened her eyes again. “I know what chronically drunk people are like, so I know that anything you say could either be complete bullshit or the honest-to-God truth. Tell me, why should I believe anything you say right now?”

He watched the tears slide almost elegantly from the corner of her left eye, down her cheek, and her neck. He waved his hands a little. “I’m not drunk. I’ve had two glasses of Scotch to fight off the hangover.”

“There’s still alcohol in your system. Too much to consider it sober.”

“You’re right, I’m not sober.”

“I know. What I don’t know is what you want from me. My pity?”

“No!” Tony scoffed. “It’s just been hard for me,” he began to explain himself. “Ever since Rogers - Steve - left, I’ve been feeling like I failed. Do you know what that’s like? I’m the man who killed the Avengers. I saw it. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Oh, come on!”

“No, hear me out. When that little witch Wanda played with my head, I saw it. I saw all of you, dead. It was my fault. I’m comparing these two right now and I don’t see much of a difference. Look, I’m on my last straw right now.”

Eliza shook her head. “You could’ve told me,” she said. 

“I tried! I tried to tell you that this is my worst nightmare come true. So many times.”

“How, by calling me a lost orphan in front of the most powerful people in New York City?”

“You don’t understand,” he said. “I was drunk and angry and I didn’t mean it.”

“You’re right, I don’t understand because you’re not making any sense.”

“I made our friends enemies of the State. I did. Rogers, Romanoff, Wanda, all of them! I killed the Avengers.”

“And you know, Sam, Scott, even Vision, just because he’s in love with a fugitive. Can’t even say their names, can you?” 

“Jesus!” He scoffed. “You’re turning my words against me.”

“Can you blame me?” Eliza asked, challenging him. 

“This isn’t about blame.”

“What, you want me to feel bad for you?” She cocked her head. “This is on you, not me. If you’re waiting for the pity party, you’re not getting any.”

“Listen, kid. I know you’re struggling and I’m sorry I’m not there for you like I used to be, but this is hard on all of us. Especially on me. This shit show is getting on my last nerve. The press, Ross, fucking Rhodey and Happy- you know, it’s not easy when the world is resting on your shoulders,” he said. 

The exasperated laugh was an answer of heavy proportions. “Boohoo, cry me a river, Tony! Honestly, you either complain or apologize, you can’t do both and expect me to roll with it.” She wished she had the same glass of Scotch he was carrying only so she could swallow the horrendously bitter taste on her tongue, but she didn’t. She was glad she didn’t. She wanted to be better than him. She wanted her words to be sober. She wanted him to understand, for whatever the desperate attempts were worth.

Tony shrugged. “It’s true. There’s a lot more I’m carrying that you don’t know about,” he said, “and I’m glad you don’t.”

“And you don’t know about the shit I have to carry,” she replied. Her lip twitched into a sour smile. “But I’m glad you don’t.”

He smirked, but it was fake. The way she spoke left no space for interpretation of just how sour she was. She was mad, offended, disappointed, all of those things and yet, she came. She always did. 

“All I need is some time to clear my head, and Scotch. Lots of Scotch.” He poured himself another glass from the small bar in the corner of his office, a small mahagoni table overlooking the New York skyline behind the compound. The perfectly trimmed grass and bushes in the front yard lead to the small forest separating the Avengers from downtown. It was beautiful. 

“You need time,” she repeated his words. “It’s funny because when you say it’s hard on all of us, I feel like it only entails you. I had to clean up your mess, again,” she said. “I shouldn’t have to. I struggle too, you know. I’m not saying you aren’t, but maybe you should take your own words into account and think about the people around you. You aren’t the only one who lost, we all did.” 

His shoulders tensed. Something changed. Was that regret she saw in the colors around his soul? She could’ve sworn she saw black somewhere, but it was hard to tell with the mess he was and the alcohol that seemed to turn the shade of anger darker, and the pride threatened to consume him. 

“I always have to take care of everything. I trained you, Eliza. I made us a team. I got you all a job you could count on. You had all the benefits in the world. Healthcare, stability, housing… you had all of that. It was safe. You guys were safe. And yet - and fucking yet - we managed to blow up. We always do. Everything always blows up, no matter what I do, and I’m tired of watching it happen without having an ounce of control in it. I think it’s time I finally focus on myself.”

“How can you say that after everything that happened? I can’t take this anymore,” she said, and she meant it. “I have to soften all the blows. It’s not even my job!”

“You need to learn how to take responsibility,” he argued.

“Responsibility?” That was the last straw. “I’ve been taking responsibility since the day I got here! I’ve been cleaning up the messes you’ve made again and again. Now, I didn’t mind. We were a family, but lately, it feels like I’m just doing it because I’m supposed to. Maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe I shouldn’t have accepted being used like that.”

“Being used?” Tony asked, voice dangerous as he rose from his chair. “I did everything for you. You got a home, money, and a job. You met people others can only dream about. What else do you want?”

“Maybe some appreciation, for a change. I mean, are you treating Peter the same way?”

“Peter- is this what this is about? Are you jealous of that kid?”

“No!” maybe a little. “My point is that I was around Peter’s age when we first met. After everything you learned over the years and what I’ve been through, don’t you think it’s my right to tell you your place?“

“Pepper took you under her wing, Happy worries about you all the time, I mentored you. I got you back on your feet. I made sure you didn’t go to jail. Hell, I even funded your drug addiction when I didn’t even know you were taking those stupid pills, and yet, I’ve never asked you to pay me back!” 

“Oh, please,” Eliza spat back. “What would you ever do without having my mental illness as a justification for your actions? Honestly, you’re acting like that’s all I am. Fuck you, Tony! I thought you cared about me.”

“I do!” he said. “All I ever did was because I care about you. I saw your talent when no one else did. Not even Fury shaped you the way I did. So don’t tell me you’re not being appreciated! I care more than anyone else on this planet. I saved your life, goddamnit!”

“Jesus Christ, Tony, why can’t you just listen?” Fresh tears pooled in her eyes. The water crept dangerously close to the brim, threatening to bubble over. Eliza wasn’t even surprised.

She’d cried more in the past couple of days than ever before. She was a wreck. Time had done its damage. Life had taken its toll. She was bound to break eventually, she just never thought it would happen like this. She never thought it would come to this. The world stopped spinning the day the Avengers left her behind.

“I’m so sick and tired of fixing everything,” she said. “I’m not your therapist. Hell, I’m the one who needs one. I’m not just some messed up orphan that’s become your burden. You were everything to me…” The ocean was too wide and she never learned how to swim. “I looked up to you. I idolized you and wanted to be like you. You taught me so much and yet nothing prepared me for the person you’d be.”

Eliza wiped her cheeks furiously with the back of her hand. “This isn’t you! Ever since you and Steve fell out and the Avengers broke up, you’ve been spiraling out of control. You changed! You turned into this wreckage of a man, a shell of who you used to be, and that shell is filled with so much sour hostility. The Tony Stark I know wouldn’t risk everything by putting down the guests at his party. He wouldn’t hurt his friends and family in front of everyone. The Tony I know would listen to what I have to say. He’d take my worries into account. The Tony I know would do anything to protect me, but you’re not there. You haven’t been there in a very long time, but I lived with it because I still had hope. I had faith in you, Tony.” 

He aggressively downed another glass of Scotch, knuckles turned white from the hold he had on it. 

“You taught me to always believe in the good in people, and help when someone needs it. I made it my personality trait. What happened, Tony? What happened to make you this way?”

“You don’t get to do that,” he said. “You don’t get to ask me what happened when you were the one who completely lost herself all those years ago!”

“I picked myself up again! I admit that I’m broken, but that doesn’t give me the right to take it out on people. That’s what you do. You blame everyone but yourself for everything that’s wrong with you-“

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“See? That’s what I’m talking about. You won’t listen!”

“Oh, I am listening. I am listening very well. Let’s talk about what I’m listening to, yeah? Except for the fact that you’re trying to make me feel bad for one stupid slip-up-“

Eliza interrupted him with a frustrated groan, “It wasn’t just one stupid slip-up, Tony. It’s a fucking series and I’m done watching!”

“Don’t interrupt me,” he said. “You call me a hypocrite, but while you accuse me of neglecting you, it’s you who won’t listen. You think you’re so smart, prancing around at night, behind my back, with a criminal? And then you have the nerve to pretend like you’re a good girl and lie to my face! That’s what hypocrisy is, Eliza! You’re a hypocrite!”

The words tasted like poison on her tongue.

Tony was nowhere near done. The fire just kept on burning. “You’re jealous of Peter? Well, he learned his lesson after I called him out. You didn’t. You did the exact opposite of what I told you. Fucking hell!”

“What are you even talking about?” she asked.

“Daredevil.”

“What?” The name rang in her ears. Her mind instantly went to Matt. It made her wonder just how much he knew.

“Don’t play dumb now,” he bellowed. “I know you’re working with him. You’re following down circumstantial leads that almost got you killed.”

“How would you even know?” 

“I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, remember?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” she tried to justify herself, but it was essentially all useless. Her secret was out. What terrified her most was the fact that she didn’t care.

“It’s not? Who do you think is keeping the press off your ass right now? It’s only a matter of time before your little secret comes out and then it’s Ross knocking on my door all over again.”

“You didn’t listen to me.” She remained dangerously calm. “So I took matters into my own hands.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” He threw his hands up. “You’re not a vigilante! You were with Pfeiffer when he got shot. What did he tell you? Did he play into your suspicions?”

Eliza cocked an eyebrow. “How do you know I was there?” she asked. The truth itched the back of her brain.

Tony sighed, nostrils flared. “I put a tracker into your SIM card when I got it for you.”

“You did what?”

“In my defense, you tend to get into trouble quite a lot.”

It wasn’t that easily justified. He was monitoring her like a criminal because he didn’t trust her. If her heart hadn’t been broken already, it surely would’ve broken right then and there.

“This only proves my point,” he said. “You could’ve gotten shot over a suspicion! And now Pfeiffer is dead and his blood is on your hands.”

“Don’t you dare,” she ground her teeth. “It was Hydra, you and I both know that. You just don’t want to acknowledge the fact that we failed.”

“You’re paranoid, Eliza. I stand by that. People died because of your inability to stay out of shit that doesn’t concern you-“

“It doesn’t concern me? Tony, they stole my childhood, they experimented on me and tortured me! There’s nothing more of my concern than that stupid organization! This is so much bigger than we thought. You’d know that if you’d just listened.”

“I listened, I didn’t like what I heard so I’m cutting you off,” the statement was final, she saw it in his eyes. But Eliza was done for good. He could do whatever he wanted. She was done.

“You know,” she said, “We used to be such a good team. We swore to eliminate threats. What happened to that?”

“Agendas change,” he stated.

“No, not this time. You just want to control me. I don’t know why, maybe you’re scared or maybe you just don’t have any faith in me. Either way, I’m not gonna stop. We both know that.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“Am I? Or am I just not following your orders?”

“Not following my orders is a mistake. Trust me. You’re doing the wrong thing, Eliza. You’re chasing the wrong ghosts. If you do this, I can no longer protect you.”

She shrugged. “I’ll take that chance.”

“You don’t understand. If you do this, I’m gonna stop. If you do this, you’re no longer an Avenger.”

“I haven’t been an Avenger since Berlin.”

The emptiness in Eliza’s eyes put a distance of miles between them. Tony was waiting for her to pull back from the edge of the cliff, to run back into his arms. He was waiting for her to make a different decision, one that didn’t entail losing her, but one look into her eyes told him that he was no longer welcome. He wasn’t just losing her, he already had.

“I didn’t ask you to keep the press off my ass,” she said to him. “If Ross wants to arrest me, let him. I’d rather go to jail than sit back and do nothing to save this city. If you decide to do the latter, that’s your choice. It’s not mine. I want to see them burn the way they burned me. If you try and stand in my way, I might just burn you too.”

“Are you threatening me?” Tony asked.

“No,” she smiled, “it’s a promise.” The door handle felt hot instead of cold under her hands this time.

She looked down. The veins underneath her skin were glowing bright red instead of faint blue. In the reflection of the window, she caught a glimpse of her eyes. She was standing knee-deep in her misery and the pain did little to help her stay in control. 

He’s lying to you. She tilted her head.  Her reflection moved towards her. The window turned into a one-way mirror. Smoke started to pool at her feet. The stranger was trapped behind the glass. She pressed her hand against it, eyes switching between Tony at his desk and Eliza, clawing at the door handle. A strange magnetism kept her tied to the metal. 

She tipped her chin. Leave. Her mouth wasn’t moving, so how could she possibly hear her voice, so close yet so far away? 

Don’t look back. 

“If you walk out that door,” Tony said, one last attempt to close the distance between them, “We’re done.”

Eliza pulled. “That’s fine by me.”

“Maybe you should just think this through-“

“I did. I made this decision on my own. Nothing you say or do can change that. I may not be an Avenger anymore, but at least I’m not the one that killed them. You killed the Avengers, Tony. You ruined us. Do with that as you will, but if I were you, I’d rethink the decisions I made.”

She wasn’t sure what came over her.

“Eliza-“

“No, I’m done. Paint me the villain, I don’t care. At least then I know I’ve done it right. Here,” Eliza reached into the pocket of her jeans. The film of pictures weighed heavy in her hands. She hesitated, though the decision was a conscious one. “Good luck cleaning up the mess you made.” She let the snippets fall to the floor. Her face was broken in half, eyes scattered around, all familiar faces that once had been there but were long gone. “I’m not gonna do it for you,” she said. “You can lie in this yourself.”

All the strength Eliza displayed at the compound magically evaporated the second she set foot outside. She didn’t even tell Happy why she was running or where, for that matter. She wasn’t even sure where she was going. All she knew was that she needed to get out; she needed to put not only emotional but also a physical distance between her and Tony and everything else that reminded her of the life before, and just get out of the life she once lived for good. It was over anyway. 

Happy gave her space, he always did. He thought it was because of what Tony said, but the truth was much worse than that. She couldn’t stand being around him. He would do anything for her and that thought was so suffocating, especially after the conversation, that all she wanted was to abandon him completely. It wasn’t for her good, it was for his. She would always push him away, she would always hurt him in some way, and he would always come back, no matter how hard she kicked him.  

Eliza only realized she was running when she came to a halt in front of the memorial established downtown. Their names were engraved golden on the metal plate. The Battle of New York. A silent reminder of the day the sky opened up and aliens invaded the planet. Proof that humans weren’t alone in the universe, after all. 

She’d torn apart the last piece of them she had left to prove a point. It was pathetic. Those were just names on a plate, meaning the world to people. The faces lay scattered on Tony’s office floor. People read the sign and remembered the destruction. No one cared about the faces behind the names, unlike they used to.

They used to be a family. The names on the sign slowly grew into strangers. Eliza felt like everyone else, bystanders watching from the outside. Just names, no faces. Those heroes saved the world once, but that was all they were. The memories of happier times slipped further away. It seemed like she’d watched the time fly by from her little bubble like she hadn’t been part of life back then, only a watcher amid the public eye. 

She’d told Natasha once, “I’m afraid that if I accept this to be true, if I accept this one good thing for myself, that I’m gonna lose it eventually. Because there has never been anything good in my life before and I’m scared. Good things don’t come to people like me, not without a price.“

How right she’d been. Yet she was foolish enough to accept Natasha’s reassurance. “Stark may not be the most promising person, but I think he’s onto something with this group,” she’d said. “You deserve this more than anyone. You deserve to be part of a family. No one’s gonna take that away from you. I can’t speak for the rest, but I, for one, will always be there for you.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

I guess always was a lie, too.

Eliza wiped her nose. “No,” she whined. “Get out of my head!”

The sight must have looked insane. Anyone walking by could have easily mistaken her for a psychotic. 

Why? It’s not like I’m doing anything.

“Then why the fuck are you talking to me?”

I’m… not? 

“Liar.”

Well, to be fair, you kind of brought this upon yourself. The young woman looked like her. Same hair, same body type, same eyes, but there was something eerily different about her too. In every nightmare she had, the demons didn’t have a face. She was tormented by memories and self-deprecating thoughts.

If hell was real, she assumed this was how Satan and all her demons spoke because she hated it and it made her want to die.

Did you really think you could continue lying to yourself?

“Peter, hey,” she spoke as soon as the line of her phone clicked. “How are you?”

“Liz?” the boy’s confused voice sounded from the other end. 

“Hi!”

“Is everything okay?”

She silently wiped the snot from her nose. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” she said, and then she laughed. She laughed as if what she’d said was the truth. 

“Oh, you just usually don’t call me unless it’s urgent,” he said. “So I thought something happened. Is it the Avengers? Do we have a mission?”

“Yeah, about that…”

He’s not gonna understand. 

“What?” The school bell rang distinctively in the background. “I actually have class right now, so if it’s not that important and you don’t mind, maybe you could make it quick? Or perhaps call back another time? Not- not that I think what you have to say isn’t important. It always is! It’s just- I’m kind of behind with my grades and stuff and I really want to get into MIT. Spider-Man has really been kicking my ass lately.” He chuckled.

You’re gonna hurt him.

Eliza copied him. “It’s fine. I just- I have something to tell you and all I ask of you is to just listen. Can you do that?” she asked. 

There was a pause. “Okay,” Peter agreed. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m officially done with the Avengers. That’s the truth.”

And you can’t change who you truly are. 

“What-”

“Hear me out. Don’t say anything. Please.”

Don’t fool yourself again.

“O-okay.”

“Truth is, I’m done, Peter. I’m no longer an Avenger and I no longer want to be. Tony said some things… he said and did some things and I just- I quit. I know you look up to him, it’s your thing. You see him as a mentor and I want you to continue doing that, but my time here is over. It was the second Steve got onto that ship, I just didn’t want to acknowledge it. I tried to stay strong, and I tried to keep my faith, but I can’t. You’re too young, you haven’t known them as long as I have – hell, you didn’t know them at all. It’s a good thing, Peter, because that means you’re still innocent. There’s still hope,” she said.

The tears clogged up her throat and it was getting significantly harder to breathe. “I know you wanted us to be friends and I’ll continue being there for you, but it’s time I face the facts. The Avengers are done, at least the way I know them. I should’ve left earlier. It was only a matter of time before this would all escalate. There are some things you can’t be involved with, like the things I’m about to do, the things you’re gonna hear about me… The less you know the better.”

The cabby stopped where she told him to, his head turned patiently, waiting for her payment. She exhaled into the phone. 

“Eliza, you’re scaring me,” Peter’s voice was small. 

“Don’t be,” she told him. “There’s nothing to be scared of. I’m just trying to make amends before it’s too late, that’s all.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but it sounds like you need me right now. Maybe I should-”

“Drop my number, Peter. It’s for the best.”

“What, no!”

“I’m sorry.”

The phone cracked between her fingers. Glass scratched the inside of her palm. She watched as the broken device fell to the ground. She stepped on it, once, twice, until it was nothing but flat garbage. The SIM card was broken entirely, and the tracker was disabled and gone for good. Tony didn’t have anything on her anymore. She could go wherever she wanted, do what she wanted and say what she wanted. She didn’t need him and he didn’t need her. It was over. She was free. Though if that had been the truth, she should’ve felt that way, too. She didn’t. Instead, she felt fucking trapped. She felt chained. War was only just beginning. 

Eliza stood alone in the middle of downtown New York. There were no walls around her, not a shield to protect her. People bumped into her on their way down the street. The briefcases of businessmen dressed in black suits hit the back of her knee, making her stumble left to right. They were all so focused on themselves, she was nothing but a mere rock in the way that could be pushed aside. In our most natural habitat, we’re all selfish assholes focused solely on whatever target we’ve set our minds to. 

The voices were so loud, she could hear the conversations overlapping. Her ears were ringing. Emotions swarmed the air like an army of mosquitos. The tornado was heading straight for the village, strong enough to destroy everything in its path. 

Congratulations, Eliza. You just fucked up everything good in your life. 

“We’re a team,” she remembered Steve saying. “Ain’t getting one without the other.”

“I think Steve might be onto something,” Wanda came up to her one night. “I don’t know a lot about working as a team, but you guys make it seem easy. Makes me want to try and be better, you know.”

“You might just be the last straw holding this team together,” Natasha said shortly before they arrived at the UN, a dreaded talk on the plane after the events in Lagos.

“We knew this would happen eventually.” The worst part wasn’t the words coming out of Steve’s mouth, it was the way he said them. He sat in the dark, glass of Scotch in hand, blue eyes endless like the dead sea. “In the end, I don’t think we were meant to be,” he said. “Every great hero falls eventually. I think this is it. This is our fall.”

She begged him to stop, begged him to find another way, but to no avail. You can fill in the blanks on this one.

At the airport in Berlin, she looked at her friends for the last time. She had the choice between helping Steve or staying on Tony’s good side. Back then, she truly believed in him. She promised her loyalty. As she watched her friends get carried away though, her heart screamed, “You made the wrong choice!”

Eliza crossed the corner into an alley just in time. She pressed against the brick wall, the darkness shielding her from the tourists and native New Yorkers crowding the streets. So many people, and so little space. The walls caved in on her. There was so much oxygen in the air and yet not enough to make its way into her lungs the way it was supposed to.

She tore the hoodie over her head. Sweat ran down her spine. Her chest ached and the burning was only getting worse. She tried to breathe - she tried to exhale, inhale, then exhaled again. She tried everything she could think up in her fogged-up brain, but the air tore through her lungs like a flaming fire.

She threw her head back. The stone dug into her skull. Her fingers tingled. Thousand little ants covered her skin. She scratched, she gasped, but the animals fed at her like a cannibal’s teeth. The sea brought its waves higher, water filling her chest, choking on salt. She was trying to stay afloat, but it was getting harder and harder to breathe and the current grew strong enough to pull her down. 

Tony was going to let the press eat her alive, and in tow with the press came Secretary Ross. She only read the first couple of pages of the Accords, but it clearly stated that any kind of mission had to be approved by the government first. Even just the suspicion of risk had to be shared before hunting down leads. No playing the hero without the official ‘go’. Those were the rules. She broke them, clean through. She was playing the vigilante, jumping into the line of fire, using the dark web for answers. She believed Hydra was still out there and she had proof, too. She was obligated to tell Secretary Ross since Tony refused to listen - technically. Technically, she was supposed to be the good girl and wait. Sit down, look pretty. Technically. 

Eliza was never one to accept technicalities. She rather fought for what she believed in instead of following the rules. It was foolish, she knew that. It was stupid, reckless, and lacking common sense. She was aware of all of that and yet when it came to her gut, she knew she could count on it. 

Secretary Ross would arrest her the second he found out. He’d incarcerate her. She didn’t even want to imagine what they’d do to her in prison. Being an Avenger she might as well just walk naked into a lion’s den. 

Hydra was out there. They were more than willing to kill her. While she was hiding in an alley, tucked away from the world, there were people out there getting kidnapped for human experiments. The only thing standing between Hydra and success was Eliza and maybe Daredevil, but she was the bigger threat. 

Eliza loathed herself. She hated her body, hated the mind she was in. None of what she had on her felt like it belonged there. She didn’t deserve the powers, she didn’t deserve the love and care she received. Her existence was trouble, it brought danger to everyone close to her. She was cursed. She knew she was cursed, she had to be. 

You care too much about people - you might just be digging your own grave.

“Hey, lady, you alright?” the homeless man next to the trash container leaned over. She hadn’t realized he was there.

Eliza blinked through the smoke standing up to her ears. “What?” she wasn’t even sure the words came out.

“You look a bit pale. Want some beer?”

She shook her head. “I- I need to get out of here.” Her fight or flight response was damaged, she knew that better than anyone. She needed to get out, she needed to go somewhere safe. Somewhere no one could find her. Somewhere she wouldn’t be recognized.

Sure you do. Run. It’s all you know how to do. Run from the truth, run from who you are. 

She bumped into someone. “Sorry,” she apologized. 

People turned to the disturbed woman running through the masses. She paved the way by elbowing her assailants in the ribs. She ran without destination. She knew New York like the back of her hand, but the many sounds and the people made it hard to focus on the map she had painted up in her head. 

Can’t you see everyone is lying to you? Open your eyes. This is all a lie.

“Stop it! Get out of my head!”

Not gonna happen. Sorry, sweetie. We’re stuck together now. 

“Who are you?” Something high and sharp pierced her eardrum. 

I’m you. The real you.

She couldn’t see five things, only the sun blinding her into oblivion. The white stairs set in stone seemed like enough of a haven. She jumped the steps and through the gigantic doors, not knowing exactly where she was until she smelled the distant scent of candles, rosemary, and roses. Three things she could smell. That was a good start. She closed her eyes and felt the cold of the steel doors, the cool air on her heated skin, and the marble under her boots. The world finally seemed to slow down. The walls put space between them. She breathed. It wasn’t good, but it was better than nothing. 

“Can I help you?” the voice startled her. She reached into the back of her jeans only to realize she wasn’t carrying any weapons. 

Wide eyes looked around. It was no wonder the voice echoed off the walls. She stood in one of the largest rooms she’d ever seen. The windows were painted with colorful pictures -  pictures that told stories almost every child knew. Wooden benches paved the hallway. Marble walls stood high and mighty above them, almost threatening. 

The balding man lifted his arms with a smile. “I come in peace,” he said. 

Eliza took another look around. “I-“ she exhaled. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Please, this door is open to anyone. Would you like to sit down for a moment, catch your breath?” 

She hugged her arms around her torso. Her legs did feel kind of wobbly. “Yeah,” she said, “sitting sounds good.” 

She followed him to the closest bench. He took place next to her, but he didn’t speak until she found her sound again.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never been to church before. This is all very new to me.”

“You seem like you’ve been looking for a safe space,” the man said. “There’s no place safer than church.”

“What do I call you? Sir? Or is it Father?” 

He chuckled softly. “I’m Father Paul Lantom, but you may address me however you like. You want to tell me your name?”

“Eliza,” she told him.

“Well, Eliza, what are you running from?”

“I don’t know, life. I gave up everything I once knew, abandoned the people I loved - it was all I had left and I threw it all away. I thought I did the right thing. But now… I think I just made a huge mistake. Oh, God,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that. Fuck!”

“Do you want to talk about it? I promise I won’t tell. I’m a priest, I’m under the oath of confession, no matter what you tell me.”

She wiped her cheeks. “So you’re like a therapist in a cloak?” 

Father Lantom laughed. “If that’s what you want to call it, sure,” he said. “I can tell you don’t have the best relationship with church. Would you still like to talk?”

“I don’t know. Faith and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms,” she said.

“Religious trauma, I take it?”

“How’d you know?”

“Well, religion is supposed to be comforting. You don’t appear comfortable.”

“I’m not.”

“You don’t have to see this as confession. When you say you struggle with faith, that’s your thing. I won’t talk you into something you don’t want to. God wouldn’t want that. You can just sit here and compose yourself in silence if that’s what you’d like. I’m just going to lend you some company and an open ear, if the need arises, to make sure you’re alright.” 

Eliza frowned. “What does God want, exactly?” she asked. “Why does he let bad things happen to people?”

“God isn’t a person,” the father explained. “He’s a spirit, a deity. He’s a name, not a face. He’s whatever you believe, whatever you want him to be. Some people might see God in their pets, while others simply see him as a voice of guidance. Others don’t acknowledge his presence at all and still believe faith will show them their way. It’s not about God, it’s about what’s in your heart. Despite what a lot of people think, he’s not in control of the world. Things happen, some bad, some good, and some might be even considered a miracle. But he’s not a hero. He’s our hope, our faith, and with these two things you can turn bad things into good ones. For yourself, for others. That’s the thing about religion, about God, about faith – you don’t have to believe in him for him to have your back. Just because you’re an atheist doesn’t mean you’re going to hell. God doesn’t differentiate. We’re all the same in his eyes. Metaphorical eyes, of course.”

She clung to his every word. What once used to be forced on her seemed like a whole different thing now. The faith she used to have was twisted. It wasn’t God she prayed to, it was the face of evil. Hearing father Lantom’s words changed something inside of her; it opened the doors to her heart. She pulled her knee up to her chest. The candles on the altar in the front flickered with the comfortably cold chill. 

“I abandoned my old life to do something I believe in,” she decided to tell him. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“You say you believe in it?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it your purpose?”

“I don’t know, I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“Look inside yourself,” Father Lantom said. “Do you have to do it? Could you do something else and still get the same results? Do you live for it, or do you think about it at night because you can’t get it out of your head? Does it feel right, when you think about it?” 

She answered instantly, “Yes, to all of it.”

“Then it’s your purpose. You made that decision for a reason. You wouldn’t have abandoned your old life to pursue something you only believe half of. Also, if it was so easy to abandon it all, maybe it wasn’t meant to stay that way in the first place. There’s always something waiting for you out there, sometimes it just takes some time for you to find it. It may come in the shape of a task, a purpose, or maybe even a person. And sometimes it’s all of that combined into one.“

“What if I’m not sure yet? What if I still question if I did the right thing?”

“You’re going to find the answer,” he stated. “Sometimes it just takes a while. That is something God can’t do for you. He can only guide you in the right direction.“

“Yeah, but how do I know that?”

“Let me tell you this: when the time comes, you‘ll know. There’s no guide to faith. When you’re on the right path, you’ll know because you’ll feel it deep in your heart.”

Eliza lowered her head. “I never saw it like that,” she admitted.

“Hardly anyone does.” He smiled. “Faith isn’t a task to be accomplished. You have to open your heart to it and when you do, you also have to enjoy it. It has to make you comfortable. If it doesn’t, it may not be the right time for you.”

She thought about it. No pressure, that’s what he was saying. She always thought religion, and going to church, always came with the pressure to dedicate yourself to the cause. She’d always imagined it had to be the way Matt saw God – having blind faith, always. Once in, you can’t pull back out. Just like that. 

This time, Eliza felt comforted. 

“So does God ever send you, I don’t know, signs?” she asked him then. 

“The way you’re asking I assume you’ve been asking yourself this for a while now,” Lantom replied. 

“Yeah, you could say that. A couple of days now, actually.”

“You met someone?”

“Yeah, how did you-“

“I’ve got a lot of people asking me this particular question lately. It’s like a global epidemic has broken out.” Eliza chuckled. He smiled at that. “Everyone’s seeing signs of God everywhere. It sounds crazy, and it probably is too, but I think it’s nice to hear some positive things for a chance. God knows I haven’t been getting much peace.”

“So it is possible?”

“Everything can be a sign, Eliza.”

“It’s like God sent me an Angel,” she blurted out. At this point, the confessions came straight out of the bottle. It wouldn’t stop. “When I first met him, I didn’t think much about it, but the things he makes me feel… no one has ever taken care of me the way he does. He understands me. He came when I needed him most – no, I needed someone and then he was just there and everything made sense. Or well, the things that need to make sense make sense, the rest is just… blegh.” 

“You want to have my advice?”

“Sure, why not.”

“Seems like this is something you should pursue before it slips through your fingers.”

“He’s just so good.”

“Who’s to say you don’t deserve it? Nothing good is ever truly good and nothing bad is ever truly bad. You can’t sabotage yourself just because you think the good things aren’t meant for you.”

“They usually don’t come to me,” she argued. “Or when they do, they break.”

“That’s fear talking. You can’t let that take over.”

“But-“

“Stop making excuses. Someone you speak so highly of seems like someone you should keep around. Maybe he is a sign of God, maybe not. Does it really matter?”

Eliza pursed her lips. “This all just seems so surreal.”

“I know it does.” Father Lantom slowly rose from the bench. She looked up at him. “Think about it,” he said. “And when you need any more guidance, you know where to find me.” 

“Father,” she pulled at his robe, “Thank you,” she said. 

He smiled, patting her hand. “Anytime, Eliza.”

“Would you, uh, mind if I went to the altar and tried to pray?”

“This is a church. Why would I mind?”

His playfulness awoke a feeling of warmth within her. She nodded with a smile, excusing herself and making the long road toward the front. The cross hung high as Jesus lay nailed to it. She knelt, the steps turning colder beneath her knees. 

“You know, when all else fails,” he turned back to her on his way to his chambers, “Talking to God almost always leads to revelations. He listens, even when you think he doesn’t.”

Eliza crossed her chest. She’d seen it in movies, but there was usually a lot more holy water involved. Father Lantom made her believe that there was no wrong way to speak to God. There was no right way to believe. She stared at the altar. How easy it must come to Matt, the times he went to church, the times he went to confession. It was almost like second nature to him. He carried his faith close to his heart, always.

“I don’t know how to pray,” she admitted into the high walls of the church. “But I’ll try because I need something to believe in. I tried to hold on to hope like I was taught. I thought I could do this on my own. God, I was so wrong. I have neither hope nor do I have my life under control,” she said.

Eliza stared up at the angels set into the ceiling. They soared across the sky, watching over her. God isn’t a face. Though as she looked up, she could’ve sworn she saw a silhouette in the clouds. Hidden between the angels and the endless blue, she liked to believe she wasn’t talking to a ghost. 

“I’m kneeling here right now with nothing left to lose,” she said. Her knees ached, but she suffered through it. She suffered in the hope that if she surrendered completely, the sky would provide her with answers. “I have these powers raging through me, powers I don’t even know the full extent of. They’re- they’re changing the way I’m changing, and they’re growing, they’re getting stronger, and I’m so scared of what’s gonna happen next. I’m scared of what’s about to happen to me. It’s different when almost no one believes you. It’s just that everything and everyone’s slipping away from me. I’m scared I might even lose the last good thing in my life before this is all over.” 

She sounded so desperate, so broken. Her cheeks were wet from the tears, lips salty with the taste. She was on her knees, begging, crying out; she felt like a little girl all over again. Submissive, at the edge of the cliff. 

“I’ve been surviving for so long, I forgot what living feels like. No one’s taught me how to. And I can’t live, not like this, not when the fate of the world is on my shoulders. I just need a sign, anything, to know I can win this. That all the pain was worth it. It’s tearing me apart. I don’t know how to hope anymore. I regained some faith in this, in you, and for the first time, I feel like I have a hold on religion. But these people I’m hunting, they’re set out to destroy everything in their path. I can’t keep faith knowing I might just lose everything.”

Her lip quivered, “I can’t lose him, God, I can’t,” she said. “I like to think he came around for a reason, perhaps even a sign from you. He’s led by his faith and his grief, and all he cares about is doing the right thing. He thinks you gave him a purpose. Maybe this is mine. Maybe this is what I was made for, though I haven’t quite figured out what this is. I just know he’s with me and I’d be damned to lose him. 

“I promise to worship at your feet every day from now on if it means we make it out of this alive, that these men get what’s coming for them. I’d do anything for that sliver of happiness. I need to finish this chapter once and for all. If I have to die to ensure everyone’s safety, I will. I’d do just about anything, I swear. Just make sure the people I care about don’t suffer for my mistakes. This is my battle. My sacrifice. No one else deserves to die.” 

“You have so much love left to give,” Natasha’s voice sounded in the back of her head. “Don’t throw that away. Fight for what you want. No matter the cost.”

“I’m willing to pay every price,” Eliza spoke, God as her witness. “I’m done being in pain. I want to believe in you the way Matt does. I do. I need to win. I need this. I’ve sacrificed too much. God,” she cried. “Just this once I am begging for you to listen to me. I know I’ve committed many sins, and I know I’m probably going to hell, but if there’s at least some salvation left for you to give me, I promise I’ll be forever grateful. I’m going straight now. No one deserves to suffer the consequences of my actions but myself.“

You need to learn to take responsibility.

“I’m your disciple,” she swore.

I’ve been struggling with questions of identity as of late.

“Just don’t let me down, please. God, I’m begging you!”

Who am I?

“I need answers. I don’t know if I’ll be able to find them, but I have to try. What I’m about to do, I’m gonna do for a reason. Please, forgive me.”

He listens, even when you think he doesn’t.

She crossed her chest. “Amen.”

In the corner, where the confessional booth had its place, father Lantom watched from the safety of darkness.

“Lord, have mercy on her,” he quietly prayed. “Give her all the strength you have because that girl needs it.”

Eliza rose from the marble stairs. She was fragile, barely an adult. Deep down, she’d missed so much, she just wished to be a child again. She needed to lay in the comforting arms of her parents. All the things she’d lost, she just wanted back. 

Father Lantom copied her, crossing his chest. His face had fallen, a worried crease above his brows. The shadow next to him shifted.

“I hope all that praying was worth it.” He watched her strut the hallway towards the door. “And I hope to God he listened to a word she said or else our boy’s gonna be in a lot of trouble.”

Sunlight fell on the face beside him. Soft features had all crumbled up in worry. She stared up at the father, the crucifix clutched tightly between her thin fingers.

“You think it’s her?” the woman asked.

“Hmm. I could tell the second she stepped in.“

“What should we do?”

“Nothing,” father Lantom stated. “If I learned one thing from listening to his confessions all those years, it’s that Matthew is his father’s son. He doesn’t give up, even when he should.“

“I wish he did,” she sighed. “Just once, I wish he’d stop.”

The metal doors fell shut with a loud bang. Eliza’s steps disappeared onto the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, swallowed by sun-hungry people and the summer air.

Father Lantom gave the nun a gentle smile. “Your son is resilient, Maggie. He never goes down without a fight, and he also never loses. Besides,” he looked over at the empty bench in the back, “I think Matthew finally found a match that doesn’t completely manipulate him.” 

Maggie kissed the cross in her hands. “I just hope you’re right,” she said. 

The last thing she wanted was to lose her son before she even got the chance to explain herself to him.

Matt could hear Eliza's heartbeat from miles away. He picked her up around the area of Clinton Church, but his abilities didn't quite place her in the confines of his favorite place in Hell's Kitchen, neither did he manage to pick up the father's signature voice serenading her and taking away some of the built-up anxiety. By the time he sought her out, she was on the run again, on the way to her apartment and then, sometime later, carefully making her way to the closest taxi cab.

She told the driver to stop two blocks from his apartment building. On her way, she made sure to take extra turns just in case someone was following her. He figured the action was intentional, just something she had gotten used to, and she wasn’t going to stop, especially not in times like these. 

Then, her scent filled his nostrils, followed by the steady thump, thump, thump of her heart. She came in and the world lit up. Her presence brought fresh air into the four walls he called home. Though there was something about the way she acted. Her voice dropped a few octaves, her steps dragging tiredly across the wooden floor. It made him worry. He wondered what happened. Even the last spark he had seen hours before had vanished completely, lost somewhere on the dirty streets outside. 

Foggy had poked around, asking him all kinds of questions about the night before after he quickly showed his face in the office. He asked about Eliza and if he could get her number to check on her, just to see if she had gotten home alright. Even Karen worried. Any normal person would be after the events that took place at the party. The worst part was that Matt had to make them believe that everything turned out alright. 

“I walked her home,” he lied. “She’s… what can be expected. Stark really got to her but I, uh, figured it out. She’s okay.”

“Man, that sucks,” Foggy pouted at him. “I thought he was the good guy.”

Karen only laughed sarcastically at his words. “Won’t make that mistake again, will you, Foggy?”

“No. No, I guess I won’t. I’m sorry. Tell her that.”

Matt wasn’t planning on it. 

“Don’t you have a front door?” Eliza asked from the staircase that lead from the rooftop to his apartment. “I mean, when you said ‘backdoor’, I imagined a ground-floor apartment, not this.” She gestured to the controversial entrance. 

“I thought it would be better if no one saw you coming,” he said. 

She hummed. No smart remark, not a single joke, nothing. The wood creaked underneath her boots. He tilted his head to listen closer. He analyzed the way she inhaled, slightly quivering with every second drag, and her voice was significantly more hoarse. 

She placed what he suspected to be a duffel bag on the leather couch. “I made sure no one was following me,” she stated, concerning his earlier words, no doubt. 

“Yeah, I heard.” He felt stupid just standing there, but he didn’t know what else to do. 

“So you’re stalking me now?” What was meant as a joke sounded way more serious. 

“What if I were?” he asked. 

“I’d be offended, but given the circumstances, I’d forgive you.” 

Matt chuckled. He moved over to the kitchen, his steps methodical, knowing exactly where he needed to go, yet his arms stretched further from his body in case something might end up in his path. 

“You want anything?” 

Eliza looked over at him. “Sorry, what?” she said. 

“You want anything?” he repeated his question patiently. He opened the fridge, his bicep straining against the white dress shirt that hung clad to his torso. He had long discarded the suit jacket and the sleeves were rolled up. “I’ve got beer, wine, and water. That’s about it. I, uh, don’t keep many groceries here. I have some leftovers from the Thai place around the corner. Oh, and there’s an apple. It’s all that’s left from the gift basket I got from our last client.”

She chuckled. The truth was, her heart hurt. Not just her head but her soul. The new environment made her feel exposed. At least at the church, she had found solace. Under Matt’s gaze which wasn’t even a gaze, to begin with, but an even closer observation of her behavior, she felt naked. She felt vulnerable. He saw right through her, still trying to cover it up to allow her some modesty, but goddamnit, she knew that he knew something wasn’t quite right. He could probably smell the holy water on her. He could smell the sweat of anxiety, the dried tears, and the blood from gnawing on her lip too much. She wanted to run, though she decided against it since he would’ve found her sooner or later anyway. She couldn’t hide from Daredevil, not anymore. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked. “You sound exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” Eliza intercepted. 

He fiddled with the fridge’s door handle. “Are you sure?”

“I’m fine, really,” she said. 

“Hm.” She was lying to him. 

Against her claims, he handed her a glass of tap water. His nod motioned for her to drink. A silent demand. She lowered her head. It worked. She took a small sip, keeping her eyes on him as he brushed past her, hand ghosting against her lower arm. He didn’t have to speak for her to know. 

Once again, she looked around the apartment. The sun was slowly coming down, darkening most of the apartment and if it hadn’t been for the gigantic billboard across the building, she would’ve been wandering in the dark. 

The billboard would’ve been quite a nuisance to a seeing person. There couldn’t be many people who would volunteer to take such an apartment for longer periods unless they were, like Matt, blind. He probably found the soft buzzing at night comforting. 

Eliza felt drawn to the different pictures flashing across the screen. She walked up to the window to take a peek outside. The glass was slightly milky in its natural state, slightly discolored too, but that’s what interested her in the first place. The architecture of the place fascinated her. It suited Matt, although it was nothing like what she had expected. 

She wiped at the window, removing some of the fog caused by the sudden change of temperature inside. Matt liked his apartment cold, she realized. The windows couldn’t keep up with the presence of two people without condensation starting to prickle at the edges. 

The billboard showed a commercial for an insurance company. Ridiculous, she thought. He probably didn’t even know about the kinds of pictures that flashed across his windows every night. Insurance companies, condoms, groceries, and from time to time, tv show announcements. Not that he would even care about the show that was put on in front of his apartment. It was new to her, all of this. He had a different perception of things. What she found annoying, he enjoyed. What he hated, she considered normal. She couldn’t see herself falling asleep to condom advertisements, but the colors were nice, so maybe it wasn’t all too bad even for a sighted person after all. 

Matt chuckled behind her. “Say it,” he said. 

“Say what?” she asked. 

“You think it’s annoying.”

“What?”

“The billboard.”

“Well, this place is a shithole.” She shrugged, “but I don’t know, I think it’s a nice shithole.”

His chuckle transcended into laughter. “Yeah,” he grinned into his glass, “Sounds about right.”

“Rent’s probably through the roof, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I got a discount because of the Billboard since no one else would take it, but it’s still a lot. Especially for someone who doesn’t even make money.”

“Expensive shithole then,” she said. 

He nodded. “Expensive shithole.”

The apartment's location was unfortunate, but the room itself wasn’t all that awful. Eliza stopped at the small wooden desk that stood in front of what appeared like a supply closet. Files were scattered around, a braille printer to one side and a laptop to the other. She traced her fingers over the rough wood, feeling the dots on the papers. She wished she could read Braille, but it seemed like a hard task to learn. 

“Thank you for inviting me over,” she said.

“Sure, yeah,” he said. “How was your, uh, meeting with Stark?”

Eliza stiffened.

“You know what, forget it.” He placed his hands on his hips. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”

She didn’t wait. “I quit.” Her nails dug into the paper. “I tore up our family picture and then I left.”

“What?”

“I left. I just… left.”

“Well, that’s- are you alright?”

“He knows about us, Matt!” The words came in a single breath.

“What?” he asked. 

“Not about you, about Daredevil.” she had to clarify. “He knows we’ve been working together,” Eliza said. “He’s known ever since our second night together. The press caught wind of it. He said he was the only one between the news and Secretary Ross. If he found out-”

“You’d go to jail,” Matt stated. She nodded weakly.  “Fuck! How did they- what is Stark gonna do now? He has to have a plan, right? He won’t just tell everyone. That’s not like him. Tell me that’s not like him.” 

She couldn’t do that. She wasn’t sure if it was like him. In the past? Definitely not. After what she experienced in the past couple of days? Who knew? 

“He said if I walked out that door, he wouldn’t protect me anymore.”

“God…Tell me you didn’t just walk out. At least not without negotiating a deal first.”

“I walked out.”

“Damn it, Eliza!” 

“I don’t care!” her voice cracked. “I don’t care, okay? Ross can arrest me, I don’t fucking care! I realize that now. I don’t care, even if it lands me in jail. The Accords are stupid rules. Why should I have to live by them anymore?” she said. “The Avengers are toast anyway. It’s not like I’m hurting anyone who doesn’t deserve it. I’m not making entire cities float. I’m simply fighting a fight no one else wants to. If that means breaking the rules, so be it.”

He began to pace the room. “This can’t be happening…” One of his hands got tangled in the mess of brown locks on his head. 

“It’s not about him. It’s not about me. This is about doing the right thing. You taught me that!” 

Matt turned around. “Do you even realize how much danger you are in?!” It was the first time he yelled at her and he regretted it the second the sound had finished bouncing his way across the apartment, and it slapped her right across the face. 

Eliza swallowed hard. “I-” she blew air through her nose. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he cooed softly. He took a few steps closer. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“No, don’t touch me!” She shied away. Her armor faltered. The leather of the couch welcomed her with open arms. Teardrops pearled off the fabric, leaving even darker spots where the liquid slipped from her skin. 

He wanted to punch himself. “I’m so sorry.” He slowly fell to one knee next to the armrest. “I didn’t mean it. I’m not angry at you,” he assured her, but his words meant nothing. She was scared. 

Once again, she backed away until her thigh hit her duffel bag and she had to stop in the middle of the couch so as not to throw her belongings on the ground. Her hand remained in the air, a silent warning. He didn’t move, he remained on the floor, even though his knees hurt from the wood and he could feel his stitches barely holding on for dear life. He didn’t care though. This was his fault. 

She lowered her head. “I didn’t sign up for this,” she whispered. “I didn’t sign up for any of this.”

“I know you didn’t. The reason I yelled-“ he sighed, “The reason I yelled was not that I’m angry at you. It’s not your fault. I just don’t want you to get arrested. They’d put you into special containment. They would lock you up for good,” he explained. “From what I’ve heard, enhanced individuals are considered flight risks to the government, so if you were to get arrested, they could easily use that to their advantage. I can’t let that happen.”

Eliza nodded quietly. 

“I was wrong to raise my voice. I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, I’m sorry. I- I just don’t want you to get arrested because of me,” he said. 

“But it wouldn’t be because of you.”

“No, it would be. You know why?”

“No ‘cause I’m not a lawyer,” she told him.

He hung his head, chuckling. “In the eyes of the law, Daredevil is a criminal. I read the Accords after we met. I wanted to know how far you’re allowed to go. You know they don’t just apply to you as a group?” 

She shrugged. Her fingers fiddled with the necklace around her neck. She had forgotten it was still there. A nervous tick he had picked up on when he first met her at the police station, out of his costume. 

“You know.” He nodded slowly. “I figured. You read them.”

“The first few pages,” she said. 

“Not all of it?”

“No, it bored me.”

He shook his head.

“What I read though, I remember. I remember every word.”

“Alright. Well, the Accords state that you’re not allowed to work on missions without the government’s consent,” he said. “You cannot take any cases that haven’t been checked out by either the Secretary or his committee, and when they say you have to pull out, you have to comply. You’re a dog on a leash. Or, the Avengers are. Since you signed them, you are legally obligated to follow the Accords. If you break them, you’re automatically breaking the law. You’ll become a felon, there will be court proceedings, and then, depending on the extent of the crime, you could go to jail.”

“You did your research, huh?”

“It’s not just a rule book,” he insisted. “The Accords are the law now.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Eliza snapped at him. 

“I know you do.”

“Then why are you trying to make me feel bad?”

“I’m not! I’m trying to tell you that the rules that apply to the Avengers as a group apply to you as well. You each have to follow the rules, even outside of working together. And you know why? Because you’re not the ordinary human population. The government doesn’t want you guys allowed to roam freely.”

“If I do anyway, I’ll go to jail. Yes, I’m aware. Hey,” she asked, “where are you going with this?”

“This whole thing is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode! These people can prove you’re working with me, that we were with Pfeiffer that night… They have the means to destroy you. Because of me, you’re in danger. That is where I’m going with this.”

“Oh, not this again.”

“You know, perhaps it’s better if we part ways. Spend some time apart until all of this has calmed down.”

“I made my choice!” Eliza cried. “This decision is entirely on me. My life, my rules. I take responsibility for what I did, and for what I’m about to do. This has nothing to do with you. You want to save this city? So do I.”

His breath came in hot, labored puffs of air. 

“It’s not just some personal agenda that drives me, I actually care about the people! Don’t make this about you, Matt, not right now.”

“I’m not making this about me!” he argued. “I’m just trying to take care of you. I can’t do that if you’re in the crosshairs.”

“I’ve been in the crosshairs from the beginning. I grew up with several targets on my back. Even the law has known me for as long as I can remember.”

“What if I can’t protect you anymore, what then?”

“Then I’ll die!”

“I don’t want you to die!” He was yelling without even raising his voice, something she had done the night of the party after she found out who he truly was. They weren’t so much different after all. 

Eliza wiped her cheeks. There weren’t any tears. She wasn’t crying, she doubted she had any tears left to shed, but she wanted to. The feeling burned in the back of her throat. 

“We’ve still got time,” she said. 

“Time? We’re running against time, Eliza! I may not be able to read the clock, but I know when a timer is running out.”

“I just have to be careful! We’re in this together now, Matt. We were the second you jumped into that Butcher shop to save my ass. Your desperate need to push me away just to protect me can’t control you. I’m not going anywhere. You gotta deal with that or else we’re gonna have a problem.”

“No, you’re gonna have a problem because you’re the one whose life is in danger and whose freedom is being jeopardized just by being with me. This- this isn’t a joke. This is your life you’re gambling with, you realize that, right?”

“I’m trying to tell you that I don’t want you to leave me!” she cried out. “Don’t you get that? I don’t want you to go.”

Matt’s eyes softened. “What?” he said. 

Her bottom lip tangled with her teeth in a desperate attempt to stop it from quivering. Like her entire body though, she kept shaking. It was deadly quiet when she spoke again, and her voice paid the price, “You’re all I have left.” 

He rose from the floor, situating himself on the couch next to her. She curled in on herself, too scared to even look at him. He reached his hand out. “Eliza-”

“You promised you’d be there for me,” she said. “That’s what I need you to do. To be there.”

“I’m not leaving,” he breathed. 

“Are you sure because you seemed pretty convinced just now?”

“No.” He reached for her. This time, she let him. He tugged at her arm, gently at first, though when she didn’t get the hint, he hooked his arm around hers and pulled her towards him. She fell into his open arms only hesitantly. “I just don’t want to watch you die, okay?” he admitted. “And I don’t want them to take you away.”

“Maybe you can take me away,” she muttered. Her hand began to claw at his chest, her lifeline. 

He chuckled breathlessly. “And where would I take you?”

“When this is all over, I mean. I heard Hawaii could be nice.”

“I’ve never been north of 116th street.”

“The more reason for us to change our identities and travel to Hawaii.”

“Sweetheart,” he said, “When this is all over, I will take you anywhere you want.”

They sat like this until the earth finished turning and the sun disappeared. Soft moonlight mixed with the ads crossing the billboard screen. His heart beat steady. She used the sound to come back to her body.

“The world feels so surreal,” she spoke into the comfortable silence. “Like I’m detached from its axis and I’m just spinning there like a broken record, lost alone in the vastness of space.”

She inhaled his cologne. Hints of sweat and rain, and sandalwood on his skin. He was so warm, a human blanket draped over her, almost like a shield from all the evil in this world. His grip tightened around her shoulders; she allowed herself to fall further into the embrace. She allowed herself to drown in his touch. 

“It’s like I’m bacteria floating around in an organism, but that bacteria doesn’t have a name yet. I’m just… there. No one knows who I am or what purpose I serve, but what’s for sure is that I’m meant to cause damage.”

“You’re not bacteria,” Matt told her.

“But what if I am? What if I’m the virus? This story seems to depend on my talent to destroy things. Everything’s just gotten worse because of me. Because I got involved.“

“They would’ve found another way to cause damage.”

“If I hadn’t gotten involved, this could’ve been solved without having people die for it,” she said and pushed away from him. His arm caged her, she needed to get out. Matt continued to keep his hands on her. He let her bring space between them, but as she tried to flee, he pulled her back gently so she was facing him. 

He didn’t need sight to see that she was burning red. The temperature of her skin mixed with the jitters told him enough to conclude.

“Hey,” he said, “you’re the one who broke this case wide open.”

“I don’t- what if that’s not true?” Eliza sniffled. “What if, in some twisted way, I’m the reason Hydra is doing this? You heard Pfeiffer, they’re trying to make more super soldiers, stronger than ever before,” she said. “They learned from Project Chaos, they saw what Strucker managed to achieve with the Maximoff twins. What if – just, what if – they’re doing this because we survived, and now they’re trying to combine the elements to make something far, far worse than what Wanda and I turned out to be.” 

“Yeah, but what if scenarios are just speculation? It’s not real, at least not until it’s proven. What we need to focus on are facts. Plain and simple. Facts are what make cases. That’s our start-of point. Asking yourself what if will only hurt you more. Believe me, I know.”

“What am I supposed to do then?” 

“Trust me,” he begged. “That’s all I ask of you.”

Eliza tasted the words on her tongue. She wiped the tears away, though the sticky feeling of dried salt on her cheeks remained heavy. She leaned down slowly, her forehead pressed against Matt’s chest. His hand went around her neck, holding her there. The other rubbed comfortingly up and down her back.

“What does that even mean?” the sound was muffled through the fabric. “I mean, what are we?“ she asked. 

Matt ran his thumb along her pulse point. “I’m just as confused as you are,” he admitted. He felt her pulse jump directly behind the skin. 

She hummed. “I wish we would’ve met before. You know, before everyone convinced us that life is war.” 

He pulled her closer. His chuckle blew through the tiny hairs standing off her scalp. “No one has proved us different,” he said. “Life is war, we were just taught to always fight on the front lines, no matter what happens. We were taught that being soldiers is the default for people like us. And now… now we can’t live without it.”

“We were just kids.”

“We didn’t know any better.”

“Yeah… we still don’t.”

“No,” he smiled, “we don’t.”

Somewhere in the distance, church bells rang out. Reality crept through the cracks in the floorboards and polluted them with its negative energy.

Eliza sat up again. This time, she reached for her duffel bag. “We gotta follow down that lead,” she stated, and so the mask went back on. 

The softness of Matt’s features was etched in seriousness. He began to peel the tie off around his throat. It was a fascinating transition. The caring man she knew as Matt Murdock turned within a matter of a few seconds and there he sat Daredevil. He didn’t have to put on the suit, his attitude spoke for itself. There was just something about him, something that enthralled her, even as he turned into a cold piece of stone. She knew there was a broken, gooey nucleus inside – the man he presented on the outside was just an act. He kept the real Matt Murdock under locks, tucked neatly away where no one could find him. 

Eliza should’ve felt honored to have him be so vulnerable around her. Yet, she believed there was still plenty to learn about him and this complicated piece of a soul he harbored inside.

“What do you have there?” he asked.

“My suit.” She opened the zipper. “Not the one Tony gave me. It’s my old SHIELD uniform. I asked to keep it before I joined the Avengers. Also,” - the cell phone fell into her hands -“I got a new phone. Tony used mine to track me.”

“So you just keep an arsenal of phones around you?”

“Yeah, why? You don’t?”

“I don’t think that’s something normal people do.”

“I’m not normal,” she stated plainly. “In this line of work, you better come prepared. I have a lot more where this comes from. I could fake my death and no one would know if I wanted to.” Eliza got up. She asked, “Where’s your bathroom?”

Matt pointed in the direction he memorized.

“Thanks.”

Her footsteps disappeared. The door fell shut. She turned the lock twice, making sure it was secure, only then did he hear the shuffling of clothes on the floor. He chose not to invade her privacy. Instead, he made his way into the bedroom. He took the suit draped over the sofa and changed into it with precision. The door stayed open, just in case Eliza came around. He didn’t care if she saw him undressed – hell, he was as open as one could be. Some part of him wanted her to, some perverted part he didn’t want to listen to. Not that he expected an attempt on her life in his apartment, considering no one knew she was there, but he could never be too careful. 

His stitches pulled hard. The leather didn’t do much to protect his wounds. He groaned, some sounded louder than he planned to. He was in so much pain, every inch of his body sore, and all he craved was a good night’s sleep. But he couldn’t think about that. There was no time to rest, he told himself. Not until the worst was over.

“You okay?” Eliza stood in the doorway.

Matt struggled with the belt. “Yeah, fine,” he said curtly. His shoulder burned - the one part that wasn’t injured was giving him the most trouble. 

“Need any help with that?”

He sighed in relief, nodding. She helped him get the rest of his body tucked into the suit. The leather sat securely around his waist and everywhere else where it needed to; he couldn’t have done it better.

She peaked up at him and he tried his best to reciprocate the action. Judging by her smile, he missed her eyes by miles once again. He chuckled. “Guess I’m getting old,” he said. 

“How so?” she questioned. 

“My back is killing me.”

“You are, indeed, an old man,” she swatted some dust off his shoulders, “but that’s okay.” 

He pinched her side. “Careful. This old man can still kick your ass.”

“Oh. Do I need to have the nursery home on the line?” She spread her thumb and middle finger to the sides, mimicking a phone. “Shall I tell them to book you a single or double room, grandpa?”

The baton flew in her direction. Right before it could hit her in the face, her hand shot up to catch the piece of metal. She switched between him and his weapon, not sure whether to be impressed or annoyed. 

“Fuck off!” he said. 

She smirked. “I’m getting you back for that.”

Though once the baton was back in the air, his arm was already extended to catch it mid-air, his height offering an opportunity he didn’t miss.

Eliza remembered their first meeting. The way he flipped the sticks of metal expertly, almost like what he was doing right there, in front of her, smug and knowing damn well what he was doing. “Show off,” she said. 

Like on the first day, he forced one of the batons into her hand. “Try not to kill anyone,” he retorted.

 She saw an opportunity too and she surely didn’t want to miss it. “No promises.” 

[raekensarcher]

can u do all??

hells yes (for the sake of my brain i am just putting emojis)

✨: my first fic!!!! i wish people would give it more credit. also the religious one

💘: again, like, all of them. i am my own worst critic

💫: how you interpret my work!! if you point things out that i hadn’t even thought of before!!

🌈: i did struggle the most with my newest fic. the plot and first chapter was written and rewritten a handful of times before it got to what it is now

🦋: most insecure about people not liking my interpretation of things. always worried i’m not seeing the characters how everyone else sees them and it won’t be liked.

🌻: writers block fr. my brain jus stops working. what keeps me going is that i love writing, i can just shut my brain down and type and end up with 3k words like nothing even happened. i love it.

🌿: creating makes me feel powerful idk like writing is such an escape , even when most of my writing is projection, it feels better to put it on someone else and something else. it gives me a chance to breathe and to think about things

🍉: like i said, projecting. it helps in terms of being able to sort things out, to problem solve. if i can figure it out for my characters, i can figure it out for myself. it helps

🎀: my writing has improved significantly since i was 14/15. i really love the writing style i’ve settled on.

🎈: again, big on imagery and behind the scenes things. love it.

🎉: dude?? every time i post a fic i lay down and read it and feel proud of myself. always celebrate your work!!! always!!!

💞: the most important part of the story, to me, is being able to picture it. when i write things i want to be able to see it in my head, i don’t want unanswered questions. i want to be able to feel what the characters are feeling and be there with them u know? i am a sucker for imagery and racing thoughts. i want to be in the characters head.

💝: definitely my first one. was super worried ab posting that one.

🤍: first big one/religious one. for sure.

🕯️: probably my religious one and the one i did about theo and his guilt. lots of projection, like, so much. but it wasn’t difficult to write so much as hard to realize what i was writing? and ig just recognize how much i was hurting.

💥: theo guilt fic!!! deserves more reads and credit. it’s sad but it’s probably the most honest theo i have ever written.

🍭: i started writing as a diary type of thing. it helps to smash a keyboard instead of anything else.

💎: it makes me feel better,, and if i write something that someone else connects with??? i feel wonderful.

📡: i think writing is important because it’s giving people a voice u know? like even if it’s just fandom things, people are being creative and allowing themselves to dive into a different reality to build new things. it’s fun!!

🪄: i honestly don’t have, like, a set routine or anything after i finish something? aside from going through and reading it as a ftr, i kind of just sit there and hope everyone loves it

🎙️: oh god that’s a lot of pressure shsgjdhfk i think the zoo one maybe? it’s something that’s up to interpretation for everyone and we’re never actually gonna know what happened. i would love to hear everyone else’s thoughts n opinions on it

🤲🏼: peace of mind, actually. my writing is me trying to sort out my own problems, if i’m solving the issues for my characters i’m solving the issues for myself

💋: YES!!! i don’t typically leave comments bc my brain is scrambled but when i have and it involves a question then yes absolutely i would love to hear back

☯️: i think communication in fandom is healthy and it’s so fun to make friends on tumblr/twitter/etc. i’ve made a few since joining tw tumblr and i can say it’s been a great experience so far. some of my best friends (of 4+ years) are ones i made through fandom. they’re family to me

🧿: honestly? if something isn’t getting the response i would like then i just try to forget about it hagdjfj i care too much about what people think and i’m trying to care less about that. i write for me, if someone else happens to like it then yay but if not then it isn’t the end of the world.

💌: current wip things?? i’ve just got the one big one and i swear i’ll have a chapter update for it soon i’ve just been dealing with a lot of family issues lately. new chapter soon though!! i have plans :)