#hes from like...2017. that was almost 20 years ago.

[chestnutroan]

A very old fallout 4 oc, Calvin

[sceletaflores]

come on into my bed with me (i know you want to)

pair: old man!logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, some sad vibes because i can't function without them, large age gap (but isn't that obvious by now? mid 20s/old as fuck), established relationship but only kind of, falls in the logan 2017 timeline but very loosely, LONGINGGGG, gratuitous nickname use (kid, baby, honey, ect), nasty dirty talk cause he's old and gross, not so dry humping, JUST THE TIP RAHHHH, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: this was heavily inspired by imogen heap's 'i am in love with you' because that song fucks so hard and it really gave me lots of old man logan vibes. i was just so overcome with nasty thoughts that the beat possessed me and i blacked out and listened to it on a constant repeat while i wrote this instead of doing my a&p work. kisses!

dividers by angel @saradika-graphics!

you can't sleep, logan left his door open...

Rain pelts at the smudged glass of your window, drops trailing down the span of the panes that you follow with your eyes.

It's been raining nearly all week, a rare thing in Mexico, especially somewhere as dry as Sonora.

You used to love the rain. You felt a special kind of comfort anytime night would come and there'd be a certain chill swirling through the air, that familiar scent of damp soil and wet stone rising as the first drops hit the ground.

In Sonora, rain is supposed to be a gift—a reprieve from the unrelenting heat, a chance for the dry earth to drink.

It should feel cleansing, like a reset of sorts, and maybe it would have a few months ago.

Now it just feels heavy, oppressive. Each raindrop splattering against the glass feels like a reminder of everything that's stuck, unmoving.

The soft noise of it was almost enough to lull you to sleep, but it was still no match for your wandering mind.

You’ve been finding yourself here a lot recently, shrouded in the scratchy sheets of your bed in the quiet dark encompassing your room, mind racing.

It was raining the first night he touched you.

You've been with Logan and Charles for nine months.

A runaway hitchhiker turned caretaker after you fled from the meaningless scraps of your life back in Texas.

Logan found you on the side of the highway coming back from a shift in El Paso. One stop with the hazards on and a hasty conversation through a rolled down window later, you were throwing your bags in the back of his limo and climbing into the front seat.

You didn't realize until much later that he never truly asked you to stay, or to care for Charles alongside him.

It was only supposed to be a temporary arrangement, a roof over your head in exchange for your help. Watch over his ailing father for a few days while he went out to get him more medicine, that's what you settled on.

Yet somehow, here you are, nine months later.

You cook meals in a dusty kitchen that always smells faintly of motor oil, listen to Charles’ stories about a world you’ll never fully grasp, and watch Logan patch himself up in grim silence after he’s returned from whatever trouble found him this time. 

It's strange how the days seemed to stretch endlessly, but the weeks have slipped past like a blink. You carved out a routine in this crumbling house in Sonora, built something that resembles a life even if it feels borrowed, like a second-hand coat that never quite fits right.

At first, you weren’t sure what kept you here. Maybe Charles. 

You warmed to him almost immediately, drawn in by his gentle demeanor and the way he seemed to see right through you without a hint of judgment. 

Even when his mind faltered, slipping into tangled memories or distant fragments of a life long past, he treated you with a kindness you hadn’t felt in years.

You’d come to think of him as a king, regal and noble. A king stripped of his castle, yet still wearing a crown, if ever so skewed—a king nonetheless.

You still aren’t sure, but you can’t shake the sense that leaving now would be like tearing off a scab—painful and unnecessary.

And then, one night, the rain came.

You remember it vividly, a torrent so sudden and unrelenting. The downpour soaking the dry dirt surrounding the plant. 

You couldn’t help yourself from wandering out, stood barefoot on the porch as the cool air nipped at the skin of your arms and legs.

“You’re gonna catch a cold standin’ out here.” Logan said from somewhere behind you, his voice rough and low after the silence of a long shift.

You hadn’t moved, hadn’t even glanced his way. “I like the rain.”

There was a beat of silence before he stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating against your back. His hand had been hesitant at first, a brush of calloused fingers against your arm. 

You didn’t pull away.

The heat of his palm felt scalding, causing goosebumps to pebble along your damp skin. His thumb swiped across the circular scar just above your elbow, a cigarette burn, one of many.

He didn’t say anything as he turned and walked back into the house. You learned quickly that Logan’s not the type to fill silences with empty words, but you both knew something shifted.

He came into your room later that night. The squeaky mattress of your bed dipping under his weight as he slid his hand down your stomach, pausing just above the waistband of your shorts, a silent question.

He didn’t kiss you, but the rain pattering against the tin roof was enough to swallow your soft moans and gasps.

You settled into something undefined—a constant push and pull of need and silence. Logan touched you when he needed to, and you let him because you wanted to.

It wasn’t love, not then. It wasn’t even comfort. But it was connection. A tenuous thread in the quiet storm of your lives.

You figured that was enough.

The rain hasn't slowed. If anything, the howl of the wind is stronger than before.

The soothing rhythm of droplets hitting your window turned aggressively sharp, like darts thrown against a worn cork board.

The boom of thunder is nearly in sync with the pulse of your core, aching and insistent in its need.

It’s been weeks since Logan touched you last, his endless cycle of guilt stronger than it's been before. He’s never outright said it, but you know it’s there.

The silence between you both has stretched longer than you'd like to admit, a quiet that isn't comfortable anymore.

You know he’s got it in his head that he’s somehow taken advantage of you. A perverted old man falling weak to the pretty, young thing taking up space in the bed two doors over from him.

The thought stirs something deep within you, a mix of frustration and confusion. He’s not wrong, not exactly—but he’s not right either. You aren’t a child, and you aren’t helpless. You knew what you wanted, what you needed.

And that hasn’t dared to change.

You shift in bed, the sheets tangling around your legs as your body hums with a restlessness you can’t shake. The air in your room feels thick, charged, and suffocating, a mirror of the space between you and Logan.

He doesn’t understand that you want him too, that you weren’t some helpless thing to be protected or shielded from his darkness. It eats at you until your skin is practically buzzing with it, buzzing with the need to show him.

There’s only so much silence you can take before it becomes too loud to ignore. 

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, the hardwood cool against your bare feet. You know it’s late, but you don’t care.

You walk through the dimly lit hallway, the creak of the floorboards quiet under you as you make your way to Logan’s door. It’s cracked open, a yellow glow spilling through to guide you like a lighthouse guides its ships to shore.

When you reach the beat up wood you don’t hesitate, you push it open the slightest bit, peering through the widened gap. 

He’s there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to you. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge you, but you know he knows you’re there.

You cross the threshold, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you pull the door shut behind you, leaning your back against it.

“Logan,” you say softly, your voice rougher than you intended.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he runs his hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. The lamplight catches the sharp planes of his face, a familiar weariness etched into his features.

His fingers flex at his sides, and for a moment, you think he’s going to tell you to leave—to go back to your room where it’s safe, where you won’t make things more complicated than they already are. You almost brace for it.

But then he speaks.

“What’s wrong, kid.” His voice is nothing but a deep rumble, like gravel crunching underfoot.

You shrug noncommittally, hands messing with a stray thread hanging from the edge of your shorts. “Can’t sleep.”

Logan sighs long and slow through his nose, hands pressing into his thighs. “Thought you liked the rain.”

You smile faintly at the irony, chest swelling with something dangerous. 

You take a step further into the room, pushing yourself off the closed door. The familiar scent of him invades your senses. It’s a mixture of leather, earth, and something raw—something undeniably him. 

You stand there for a moment, letting the silence stretch thin and taut before you finally speak.

“Can I stay?” The words come out barely above a whisper, but they land like a crack of lightning.

You feel your heart thud painfully in your chest, not from fear, but from the sudden vulnerability that makes your skin burn.

The room feels smaller now, the walls pressing in as you step forward, each movement slow and deliberate. You stop at the edge of his bed, the sheets pressing against the bare skin of your thighs.

Logan’s gaze flickers over his shoulder, meeting yours briefly before he looks away again, like he’s trying to convince himself that the ache in his chest isn’t real.

“You should go back to bed,” he says, voice gruff. “It’s late.”

“I don’t want to go back.” You shake your head even though he isn’t turned around to see it.

Without thinking, you crawl onto the bed, the comforter making soft shushing sounds under your hands and knees. You reach out, fingers brushing the back of his neck, the muscles there tight with strain.

Logan flinches slightly, but he doesn’t pull away, and that’s all the permission you need.

You shift closer, pressing your chest against his back, and letting your hands settle on his shoulders. The heat between you is electric, charged with something unsaid, something raw and undeniable.

“Please,” you whisper, your lips brushing against the back of his ear, your voice a mixture of defiance and desire.

Logan stiffens, but this time, you feel the shudder that runs through him, the way his body responds despite the walls he’s built around himself.

You know he’s torn, that he wants to fight this. You feel it in the tension that radiates from him, in the way his body seems to be fighting against the instinct to turn toward you.

But you don’t care anymore. You’re done with silence.

Your fingers slide down his back, feeling the rough fabric of his shirt against your skin as you press yourself closer. Your breath is hot against his neck now, and you can feel the rapid pulse in his veins beneath your lips as you hover just above his skin, waiting.

“Logan…” Your voice is softer now, almost pleading. You don’t know what you’re asking for, but you don’t have to.

His hand comes up, brushing against your wrist as if testing, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away. But you don’t.

Instead, you lean into him further, your lips brushing the curve of his neck, whispering into the tension that still hangs heavy between you. “Please.”

The last shreds of Logan’s resistance snap under the cloying weight of your touch.

He’s moving before you can even register what’s happening, rearing up with heavy hands that land on your shoulders to push you backwards.

You fall back onto the bed with a soft gasp, bouncing on the mattress once, twice, before Logan follows. His body settles over yours like a warm blanket, thick forearms braced on either side of your head to support his weight.

"Why couldn't you sleep, honey?" he asks, dark eyes boring into yours intense enough to get your stomach churning. The green of them is deeper than normal, like fresh moss growing over stone.

“I was thinking,” you whisper, breathless. Your pulse races beneath your skin, you wonder distantly if he can hear it too.

“Thinkin’ about what?” he presses, breath fanning over your lips temptingly. 

Your brows furrow, a soft noise escaping you. You can't help but tell the truth. “About you.”

Logan hums, eyes trailing along your face slowly. He slots a knee between your thighs, groaning softly at the wet heat that seeps through to his jeans.

You gasp, hips bucking down instinctively. Your pussy aches desperately, leaking arousal into the cotton gusset of your panties.

His jaw clenches at the sound, muscle ticking just beneath the grey of his beard. “Is that right? You been layin' in that bed, thinkin' about me, gettin’ all worked up?"

Your face burns under his scrutiny, but you don’t shy away. You arch your back, pressing yourself as close to him as possible, letting the heat of your body speak for you.

“Yeah,” you breathe, the confession trembling on your lips. “I need you, it hurts.”

Logan exhales sharply, like the words knocked the air out of him. His hands slide from your shoulders, rough palms gliding down the skin of your arms before settling right under the swell of your breasts.

“Where’s it achin’, baby?” he asks softly, words almost getting lost in the dark of the room. “Show me.”

You let out a soft breath, reaching down to take his hand in yours.

Without breaking eye contact, you guide his hand down your trembling body until his palm rests over the apex of your thighs, where the damp fabric of your shorts clings to your swollen folds.

“Here,” you whisper, voice barely audible above the rain pounding against his window.

A low growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and his fingers press more firmly against you, feeling the slick heat that’s soaked through the thin cotton. His eyes darken further, the green almost swallowed by the black of his pupils.

Logan’s thumb drags over your clit, slow and deliberate, coaxing a needy whimper from your lips.

“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice thick. “You’re drippin’ for me, aren’t you? Didn’t even need to touch you, and you’re already so fuckin’ wet.” 

You whimper softly, bucking your hips against his hand, desperate for more.

"I've been like this all night," you admit, your voice going high and needy. "Thinking about how good you make me feel. How much I want you."

Logan’s eyes lock onto yours, and there’s something new swirling through them, something you’ve never seen before.

A beat passes—too long—almost agonizing. His free hand lifts from your hip, gently cupping your cheek, fingers brushing against your skin, like he isn’t sure if he has the right to touch you like this. 

His thumb brushes your lip, his gaze flicking to your mouth before returning to your eyes, asking for permission, even though neither of you had ever really needed it before.

"Logan," you say, the sound a little breathless, unsure of how to navigate this sudden shift, but he doesn’t keep you waiting.

He closes the distance in a heartbeat, lips crashing into yours with a ferocity you didn’t expect.

It’s like the world around you falls away, leaving only the warmth of his lips, the taste of him, and the pressure of his body against yours. The raging storm outside dulling until it’s nothing but fuzzy background noise.

His kiss is rough, deep, urgent, but there’s something more in it, a slow unraveling. Like he’s trying to carve himself into you, a permanent mark, a reminder that he was here, even if he never says it out loud.

Logan tastes like rich smoke and whiskey, the sharp edge of him mixing with the sweet burn of need. It sends your head reeling, arms coming up to circle around his neck.

You can’t find the words to describe it, not with the way his fingers slide through the wetness gathering at your entrance, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

Your hips thrust upward, begging for more, your body hungry for the release he’s just out of reach of giving.

“Want you inside me, Logan,” you moan desperately, slick lips brushing his with every word. “Please.”

Logan's body stiffens against yours at the sound of your pleading, his grip tightening on your cheek like he's trying to anchor himself in the reality of what you're asking.

“Shit,” he growls under his breath, his forehead pressing to yours as he closes his eyes. His chest heaves, the tension in his body palpable. "I—" he pauses, struggling to form the words, but you can see it in his eyes. He's conflicted, desperate, yet still hesitant.

You move against him, your body restless, your need undeniable, feeling the rigid outline of his hard cock pressed firmly against your thigh. A thick plane of heat that has your pussy clenching around the tips of his fingers.

You don’t want to push him, not anymore. But you’re past the point of waiting for permission.

Your lips meet his again, softer this time, coaxing, until he finally gives in, groaning against your mouth as he kisses you back with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I want to feel you,” you whisper, your hands trailing down to the hem of his shirt, pushing it over the swell of his pecs. 

His skin is hot under your fingertips, rough and familiar. Your fingers trail lightly across his chest, nails scratching through the salt and pepper hair dusted across his skin as you urge him closer.

“Just the tip,” Logan mutters under his breath, barely above a whisper. His voice hoarse, like he’s bargaining with himself. “Just to make you feel good, but that’s it, understand?”

You bite your lip, the edge of frustration gnawing at you. It’s not everything you need, not everything you want, but it's something. And right now, it’s enough.

You nod your head, hands already moving to the front of his jeans. You undo the button with shaking fingers, tugging the zipper down and pushing the worn denim away. 

His cock springs free, already hard, leaking with the same desperation you feel. You run your fingers along his length, feeling the heat of him, the steady throb of his pulse.

Logan peels down the thin layer of your shorts, cursing under his breath when he finds you completely bare underneath, your slick pussy shining under the dim light.

You watch him, chest heaving, as he stares down at you—his eyes dark and full of something primal, something raw.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his fingers tracing the outline of your wetness. He groans low in his throat, his thumb circling your clit once before moving down, dipping inside you just barely. “You’re perfect, baby.”

“Logan,” you whine, thighs spreading in a clear invitation. You patience is running exceedingly thin, your whole body alight with the feeling of a raging forest fire

“I know,” he mutters, placating. He takes the throbbing length of his cock in his hand, swiftly settling between your legs. “I know.”

The thick head drags through your folds, smearing pre-come along your skin and adding even more to the mess between your legs.

A quiet moan passes through your swollen lips, your muscles tightening as he slides himself along your clit. A slow back and forth movement that sends sparks shooting up your spine.

Logan grits his teeth, his breath shallow, as he finally aligns himself with your clenching hole. 

The air around you feels charged, a taut thread stretched between anticipation and restraint. You shift your hips slightly, just enough to encourage him, your eyes locked on his as you beg him silently with your gaze.

Then, with a low growl that vibrates through you, he pushes forward, just enough to make you gasp in relief, the head of his cock sliding home in your entrance.

And though it’s only the tip, the sensation of him inside you is enough to set your world alight. 

You can feel it, deep in your bones—the simmering, searing heat that makes everything else fade into the background.

Logan presses his lips to your forehead, his breath hot against your skin as he keeps his movements slow, deliberate, his hands holding your hips steady. "This is what you wanted, huh? Got you begging for it, honey," he growls softly. "Even if I’m only givin’ you a taste."

His hips roll languidly, staying true to his word and never sinking deeper than the thick head of his cock. His hand grips the base tightly, his fist fucking slow strokes over the length of himself to where he’s spreading your pussy open.

His scarred knuckles bump against your clit with every stroke, fanning the fire building in your lower stomach.

“Feel so fuckin’ good, honey,” he groans into the skin of your neck, the pace of his hips speeding up ever so slightly. “Feels like heaven.”

You claw at the skin of his back, touch wild and desperate. It takes everything in you not to shift your hips down, to sheath the rest of his cock deep inside your and lock your ankles around his back so he can never leave again.

Logan’s lips find your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he shifts against you. “Tell me you want this,” he says, his voice low, almost a command, yet laced with something tender. “Tell me you want me.”

You meet his gaze without hesitation, your voice steady despite the tremble in your chest. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.” 

The words come out without thought, raw and honest, and you see something in his eyes shift—a flicker of relief, of something deeper than lust.

Logan groans like he got shot, his body shuddering above you as a low growl tears its way from his chest. He fucks into you faster, short, quick thrusts that steal all the breath from your lungs.

Sparks go off behind your closed eyes, bright white and glittering. You can feel yourself getting closer, your body trembling as you grind up against him, meeting him halfway, needing more, needing release.

“Logan,” you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders harder, nails digging in. “I’m so close. Please—”

“Let go,” he growls, his pace increasing, his body pressing harder against yours. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

With his command, you unravel, the world spinning around you as the pleasure crashes over you, leaving you breathless, gasping for air, your body quivering beneath him as he holds you through it.

Logan follows, tearing himself from the tight grip of your pussy with a sharp jerk of his hips, your name falling from his lips like a prayer as he shoots thick ropes of come over your slick folds.

Your body shakes at the feeling, a breathless whimper pulled from your slack lips at the sticky warmth of his release.

He collapses onto the mattress next to you, his body shuddering enough to match your own. The room falls into a deep silence, the only sounds your mingling breaths and the distant sound of thunder.

A sick sort of dread bursts through the sweet afterglow of your hazy mind, settling in your stomach like a lead weight. You think that this is the moment where Logan will realize what you’ve done, that he’ll retreat back into himself and send you away.

Send you back to your own room and leave you to lay in the cold aftermath of your own recklessness.

You brace for it, the instinct to pull away, to protect yourself from his withdrawal, but it never comes. 

Instead, you feel his strong arm slide over your waist, pulling you closer, his body heat a stark contrast to the chill creeping in from the window.

His breath is warm against your neck as he shifts, his fingers tracing absent circles on your skin in a move that’s so endearingly human it has your chest aching.

"Stay here tonight?" he asks, his voice rough, almost a whisper.

Your heart clenches, tears burning at your waterline at the vulnerability of his tone. It breaks the dam inside you, relief and something dangerously close to love flooding your body in a bursting rush of water.

“Of course,” you murmur, your voice shaky.

Logan’s hand tightens around you, his thumb brushing over your ribs. He presses a soft kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder, settling onto the mattress with a slow breath.

You drift to sleep more relaxed than you’ve felt in years, even with the knowledge of the slow journey that lies ahead of you. It won’t be easy, it never is with Logan. You can’t find it in yourself to care.

Because even though the rain falls, the desert doesn’t bloom overnight. 

And neither do you.

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[fatehbaz]

Good question:

In the United States, many jails and prisons can and will charge you money for every single night that you spend imprisoned, for the entire duration of your incarceration, as if you were being billed for staying at a hotel. Even if you are incarcerated for years. Adding up to tens of thousands of dollars. What happens when you’re released?

In response to this:

---

So.

You’re getting charged, like, ten dollars every time you even submit a request form to possibly be seen by a doctor or dentist.

You’re getting charged maybe five dollars for ten minutes on the phone.

Any time a friend or family tries to send you like five dollars so that you can buy some toothpaste or lotion, or maybe a snack from the commissary since you’re diabetic and the “meals” have left you malnourished, maybe half of that money gets taken as a “service fee” by the corporate contractor that the prison uses to manage your pre-paid debit card. So you’re already losing money every day just by being there.

What happens if you can’t pay?

In some places, after serving just a couple of years for drugs charges, almost 20 years after being released, the state can still hunt you down for over $80,000 that you “owe” as if it were a per-night room-and-board accommodations charge, like this recent highly-publicized case in Connecticut:

Excerpt:

Two decades after her release from prison, [TB] feels she is still being punished. When her mother died two years ago, the state of Connecticut put a lien on the Stamford home she and her siblings inherited. It said she owed $83,762 to cover the cost of her 2 1/2 year imprisonment for drug crimes. [...] “I’m about to be homeless,” said [TB], 58, who in March [2022] became the lead plaintiff in a lawsuit challenging the state law that charges prisoners $249 a day for the cost of their incarceration. [...] All but two states have so-called “pay-to-stay” laws that make prisoners pay for their time behind bars [...]. Critics say it’s an unfair second penalty that hinders rehabilitation by putting former inmates in debt for life. Efforts have been underway in some places to scale back or eliminate such policies. Two states — Illinois and New Hampshire — have repealed their laws since 2019. [...] Pay-to-stay laws were put into place in many areas during the tough-on-crime era of the 1980s and ’90s, said Brittany Friedman, an assistant professor of sociology at University of Southern California who is leading a study of the practice. [...] Connecticut used to collect prison debt by attaching an automatic lien to every inmate, claiming half of any financial windfall they might receive for up to 20 years after they are released from prison [...].

Text by: Pat Eaton-Robb. “At $249 per day, prison stays leave ex-inmates deep in debt.” AP News / The Associated Press. 27 August 2022.

---

---

Look at this:

To help her son, Cindy started depositing between $50 to $100 a week into Matthew’s account, money he could use to buy food from the prison commissary, such as packaged ramen noodles, cookies, or peanut butter and jelly to make sandwiches. Cindy said sending that money wasn’t necessarily an expense she could afford. “No one can,” she said. So far in the past month, she estimates she sent Matthew close to $300. But in reality, he only received half of that amount. The balance goes straight to the prison to pay off the $1,000 in “rent” that the prison charged Matthew for his prior incarceration. [...] A PA Post examination of six county budgets (Crawford, Dauphin, Lebanon, Lehigh, Venango and Indiana) showed that those counties’ prisons have collected more than $15 million from inmates — almost half is for daily room and board fees that are meant to cover at least a portion of the costs with housing and food. Prisoners who don’t work are still expected to pay. If they don’t, their bills are sent to collections agencies, which can report the debts to credit bureaus. [...] Between 2014 and 2017, the Indiana County Prison — which has an average inmate population of 87 people — collected nearly $3 million from its prisoners. In the past five years, Lebanon’s jail collected just over $2 million in housing and processing fees.

Text by: Joseph Darius Jaafari. “Paying rent to your jailers: Inmates are billed millions of dollars for their stays in Pa. prisons.” WHYY (PBS). 10 December 2019. Originally published at PA Post.

---

Pay-to-stay, the practice of charging people to pay for their own jail or prison confinement, is being enforced unfairly by using criminal, civil and administrative law, according to a new Rutgers University-New Brunswick led study. The study [...] finds that charging pay-to-stay fees is triggered by criminal justice contact but possible due to the co-opting of civil and administrative institutions, like social service agencies and state treasuries that oversee benefits, which are outside the realm of criminal justice. “A person can be charged $20 to $80 a day for their incarceration,” said author Brittany Friedman, an assistant professor of sociology and a faculty affiliate of Rutgers' criminal justice program. “That per diem rate can lead to hundreds of thousands of dollars in fees when a person gets out of prison. To recoup fees, states use civil means such as lawsuits and wage garnishment against currently and formerly incarcerated people, and regularly use administrative means such as seizing employment pensions, tax refunds and public benefits to satisfy the debt.” [...] Civil penalties are enacted on family members if the defendant cannot pay and in states such as Florida, Nevada and Idaho can occur even after the original defendant is deceased. [...]

Text by: Megan Schumann. “States Unfairly Burdening Incarcerated People With “Pay-to-Stay” Fees.” Rutgers press release. 20 November 2020.

---

So, to pay for your own imprisonment, states can:

-- hunt you down for decades (track you down 20 years later, charge you tens of thousands of dollars, and take your house away)

-- put a lien on your vehicle, house

-- garnish your paycheck/wages

-- seize your tax refund

-- send collections agencies after you

-- take your public assistance benefits

-- sue you in civil court

-- take money from your family even after you’re dead

[shiikiyun]

Hi everypony. Futa is no older than 21. Here's why

1. Twitter interface

In Jihen Joutou we are able to see a 1:1 replica of twitter, and the UI cues show that this cannot be before 2017 when the profile pics went from square to circular, aside from other details like the reply button, or the existence of quotes (added 2015) but not the button bellow the tweets (added 2020)

2. Phone model

But to narrow it down even more: Futa's phone ressembles an IPhone 11 the most, released late 2019. The previous models to this one have different camera placements, meaning it is most likely this model, and making his crime impossible to happen prior September 2019.

Additionally: His twitter account was created in March 2016. This could mean nothing, as animation could've already been on production. But, fyi, this account is currently deactivated. It was still there 3 weeks ago, right before t3 started, and the username is unavailable for new accounts, meaning it hasn't been a month since it's gone. Seems deliberate, so, I'd keep it's creation date in mind.

What is his birth year then? I've got a few options.

If MILGRAM takes them in with the age they had when the crime happened (explaining why Haruka would believe he's a teenager): Crime happens in 2019 or right before April 2020, making his birth year 1999. He'd be 21 in real life right before MILGRAM starts, at the oldest.

If MILGRAM takes them at the age they are by April 2020, start of the project: Birth year is 2000. He is truly 20, but was 19 at the time of the crime.

Making him any older than this would force him to be older than 20 when the crime happens in 2019, and make not only his claim but MILGRAM's profile be nonsensical (why would he say he's 20 and why would MILGRAM not, at least, put it in doubt if he was already older by the time of the crime?)

Let's also remember one thing from the first novel: Dead people and people in a coma can still appear in MILGRAM as completely fine and real, and MILGRAM can tamper with memories. We shouldn't jump the gun to make this make real sense, because it doesn't. It isn't a real facility.

What does this mean for Haruka and the rest then? I think there's a group of prisoners that are of a slightly older time period and another group that are closer to the start of the project (Namely Mikoto, for example, as the train he takes and his phone model are also pretty contemporary. Additionally— he has 4G, introduced in the 2010s, so it could not be earlier than that, and I've read e-cigarettes became more popular in Japan around late 2010s. My guess is also 2019/2018, but I'm not as confident in Mikoto as I am Futa simply because I'd have to dig more to find specific models and stuff. Futa was just too easy lol. Mahiru also cannot be earlier than 2016 because of the Your Name reference). This would not mean they lied about their ages in MILGRAM, not even that they are older in real life. They could've died at the age they are in MILGRAM, or, as I said, are taken as the age they were when the crime happened and truly are and believe the age they claim. Personally, I think Haruka's age being alluded to not be exact comes from the severe neglect starting at 15— His perception of aging blurs after that, he could be 15, he could be 19, but somewhat still a teen. Let's remember he was investigated by the police after killing pets, after the murder of the child, it's almost sure he was caught. I don't think he made it to 23 (probably suicide), but that's my personal speculation.

In conclusion: Don't let the sudden reveal that Haruka was born in 1997 make you catastrophize the rest of the cast or Haruka's age itself. There is a lot of proof that the events in MILGRAM aren't parallel to real life time passage, and even if the prisoners have a different birth year than what you could easily calculate by subtracting (age) to 2020— It doesn't immediately mean their ages in MILGRAM aren't true. Let this be an opportunity to revisit MVs for context clues that could easily reveal the time period the crimes took place in, like I did with this guy! Thanks

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x f! Painter Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Final Word Count: 22.6k

Author's Note: Ta-da! I put a lot of work into this last chapter, like actually becoming the president for a couple hours, but I really wanted to make it worth everyone's time for sticking around and reading all the way through.

Thank you so much for following along! All the sweet comments from you guys never fails to make my day!

^//v//^

Cross posted on AO3

The Reveal

Almost three months.

It took almost three months for Leon's portrait to fully dry after it had been varnished. You'd checked it almost daily after the two month mark due to Leon's constant pestering. He was understandably antsy, and admittedly, you were too.

There was a lot of convincing involved, but you managed to keep the man at home while you transported the painting to the White House. He worried it would be damaged en-route. Such a little worry wart.

Setting up the painting's respective spot a column away from Chris and Claire's seemed very appropriate; tall, fake bushes sitting on either side of where it would be placed, a warm yellow bulb lighting up the inside of the decorative archway, and the patterned golden frame where the canvas would forever be now hung empty in that portrait hallway, waiting to be pieced together and completed.

The shiny gold placard had already been screwed onto the frame, words zapped on it via laser:

Leon S. Kennedy

USSTRATCOM Agent from 1998 - 2011

D.S.O. Agent from 2011 - 2017

You knew how long he'd been working as an agent, but it was still baffling nonetheless. Nearly 20 years of non-stop intense and usually very traumatizing work, what a feat.

Moving on, you'd worked out the plans for Leon's farewell party with the President and a few coordinators over the span of a few days, making sure to store the painting in a secure room for the time being. It was to stay covered with a violet piece of velvet cloth up until the reveal at the party, no one was allowed to see it besides you, the President, and the various security guards working the grounds.

After another two extra months of waiting, the farewell party was drawing near. There had to be enough time given for invitations to be sent out to people, wait for said people to RSVP, and allow travel time. And at this point, Leon was busting at the seams; extremely nervous, excited, and even a little scared at the prospect of it all.

Your words from that second painting session all those months ago never left his mind: "Seeing the portrait once it's finished is going to be an incredibly emotional ordeal. It's a reminder that this is truly the end of an era for you, Mr. Kennedy..."

The man clung to that, doing his best to internalize it and mentally prepare himself for what was to come. He was hoping you were exaggerating, but from what Chris, Claire, and even Jill have told him about their experience after the fact, he knew deep down that you'd seen it all too well before.

What Leon failed to realize was that he wasn't alone anymore. Sure he had his friends to help, but he'd never had someone to come home to everyday.

During the last few sessions, he had asked to stay with you at your apartment, citing the potential aftermath of the party as reasoning. However, you really didn't need him to explain his reasoning, you would've let him. Even if he just felt like it, you would've welcomed him with opened arms.

Besides, he'd already been staying at your place for longer periods of time over the months. You'd visited his house a few times, but he made sure to whine and complain about how bare and boring it was. If you remember correctly, Leon had said, word for word, that your apartment "felt like a warm hug". With that, he shelled up with you in only a couple weeks before the painting had dried. He made special effort to learn your routine, wanting to give you the space that you needed while also maximizing his time spent with you.

Leon was an actual angel, you were wholeheartedly convinced. Some days you would come home after working on another painting to the man cooking dinner, having bought an expensive wine to share with you. When your hands would start to ache and your back and shoulders were sore from the long hours spent holding a paintbrush in an awkward hunched position, he would set aside anything he had going on just to give you all the massages, kisses, and love that you could ever want.

Nothing was ignored when it came to you and your wants and needs. Leon admitted awhile back that he felt guilty for intruding on your space, though you were very quick to shut that down. He was far from a burden, actually lining up more with a dream come true.

And just like he did with you, you spared nothing while getting to know the in's and out's of the man that occupied your mind, heart, and home. You learned his favorite meals, watched his favorite shows and movies with him, returning the massages when he would return from the gym, and paid extra attention to how he liked to be held at night. Who would've guessed that the Leon Kennedy loved to be the little spoon?

What you spent the most time on was making sure to listen when he suddenly went on tangents about his past. They really did haunt him. You would wake up in the middle of the night to him huddled at the top of the bed, arms wrapped around his legs and head between his knees as he did his best to cry quietly. All you could do for him in those moments was pull him against your chest, gently rocking him back and forth while whispering sweet nothings, just until he felt either ready to talk or ready to fall back asleep. If he just wanted more comfort, then that's what he got, obviously.

He was only recently put on a couple medications to help him better manage his PTSD and anxiety since he really had to cut back on the alcohol in order to take them the way he needed. Definitely worth it to both you and him seeing as his nightmares lessened in intensity and frequency.

Now here you were, straightening out Leon's tie for him since his hands were failing him, nerves getting the better of him. He had taken his meds a few minutes ago, wanting to have the full effect during the party to combat any destructive behaviors during it, so it was no wonder his hands were still trembling.

"You're going to do so well, Leon." You smiled, giving him a gentle pat between his pecs after tucking his tie into his suit jacket. He was staring straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed with worry as he stared at himself in the mirror. "You've made so much progress and I couldn't be any prouder."

He licked his dry lips before slowly looking down at you, giving you the best smile he could, which was really just him pulling his lips back tight. If it weren't for you constantly being around to encourage him and push him to get better, he would not be able to attend his own farewell party.

How had he managed to get so far without this level of love and care? Where would he even be without you? Hopefully later when his mind isn't racing a million miles per minute, Leon will be able to tell you just how lucky he is to have you in his life.

Leon watched you in the mirror as you walked around to stand behind him, straightening out his suit jacket in random spots until deciding to just wrap your arms around his midriff, pressing the side of your face against his back with a content sigh. He brought his still-trembling hands up to hold onto your arms, rubbing his thumbs up and down across your soft skin.

His eyes settled back on his own face after staring at your arms linked around him, letting out a shaky sigh of his own as he attempted to just focus on this moment. You were perfect, ethereal, a true work of art. He wouldn't trade any of this for the world.

It took some time, about an hour, before Leon's medication was starting to kick in. You were definitely a big help, he couldn't give all the credit to his meds.

His relaxed demeanor wasn't easy to spot, the man was just naturally rigid, but you waited until he let you know that he was ready; ready to go to his farewell party, ready to see the portrait you painted for him, ready to put in the effort into accepting the next chapter in his life.

The drive to the White House was seamless, having been picked up in a blacked out SUV that held four personal guards, courtesy of the President. Leon wasn't going to complain, he actually kind of liked the pampering effect that came with being driven around by a dedicated entourage.

Almost all good feelings were drained from Leon when the car finally pulled up to the front of the White House where more guards stood waiting to escort the two of you inside. It was still early in the night, but the sun had set long ago, making for quite the beautiful atmosphere.

He could see numerous party attendees walking up the stairs, dressed up in their fanciest outfits for him. He held your hand the entire way up the stairs and into the entrance hall with a grip that was sure to leave your hand hurting. No matter, you could tell he needed you. That vice grip he had was well worth it for his comfort.

There were quite a few more people than either you or Leon expected. It seems as if all available agents, young, old, and retired, had been sent an invitation for tonight, along with quite a few high-ranking government workers. Luckily, this was a private event; no reporters, no news, only those who had been fortunate enough to be invited.

The first to spot you two was Chris who quickly made his way over to pull Leon into a bone-crushing hug, giving him a few solid pats on the back before letting go. Leon only reciprocated the hug with one hand, the other refusing to let go of yours, though his grip had loosened by now.

"Where's Claire?" Leon muttered, leaning to the side to scan over the sizeable crowd. "She's.." Chris turned around to also scan the crowd, squinting a bit as he looked. "She's somewhere. My wife is with her, her family, and Jill."

Leon pursed his lips with a curt nod, humming quietly in acknowledgement before standing straight again. He glanced down at where his hand held yours, squeezing it again for just a second as if to remind himself that you haven't gone anywhere.

Chris had turned back around to see the small gesture Leon gave to you, a coy smirk on his face. "What uhh... what's all this, huh?" He subtly pointed between you and the other man, voice lowered.

Leon cleared his throat and looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear despite the volume in the hall. "... M'gonna save that for the-.. the speech." Chris just nodded, crossing his arms before slowly turning to look through the crowd again. "Alright, well, let me go find the family and bring them over before you're swarmed." And with that, Chris made his way back into the crowd.

Unfortunately, Leon had been spotted by the rest of the partygoers before Chris could return with everyone. Many pleasantries were repeated while also returning small talk with the people he recognized, which was a lot. You managed to avoid most of it, only being questioned a few times due to the rather obvious hold the man had on you. Despite having attended the last few parties like this, most people unable to recognize you as the artist. A blessing and a curse.

The next couple hours were spent eating finger foods, conversing with whoever, and enjoying the way Leon started to flow with the event. He soon found his way to Chris, Claire, their partners and kids, and Jill which really helped him loosen up. He needed the more familiar faces, having now let go of your hand fully to talk more animatedly with them. You made sure to stick by his side as long as you could, letting out a soft laugh every time you noticed his quick glances over to you to check if you're still there.

The time eventually did come for you to part with Leon, signaling a couple guards to follow you down a few hallways until reaching the room where the portrait sat, still covered with the violet cloth. The decision to keep it back here for so long was made by the President, wanting less of a sudden reveal and more of a build up.

Normally it would already be hanging in the entrance hall, covered and ready to be revealed, but not wanting to risk any potential damage, you were asked to hold off bringing it in until the President was ready to give the speech leading up to Leon's.

It'd been set in the golden frame rather quickly with the help from one of the guards that walked down with you. You had the guard to hold it up for you so you could give it one final good look before he was instructed to lead you back. After recovering, you took the portrait in both hands, holding it close as you were escorted back through the halls and into the main entrance hall.

By now everyone had directed their focus closer to the center of the back wall. Next to where the President stood, your own art easel was now set up. That was mostly as homage to you and it wasn't like anyone besides you would understand that it's yours, though Leon did pick up on that little feature. He'd been staring at the back of that thing for months, counted the various old streaks of paint on the pale wood over and over.

It made his farewell all the more personal, struggling to mask the feeling of the ever-growing pit in his stomach from the friends he was still standing next to.

The sound of a mic being tapped drew everyone's attention in to the President, the volume in the hall quieting to a whisper, soon completely silent as he began to speak into the mic;

"Ladies and gentlemen, I stand before you to honor and pay tribute to a true hero, a dedicated public servant, and a loyal friend who has served our nation with unwavering dedication for the past 19 years. It is with great respect and admiration that I address you on this occasion, as we bid farewell to a remarkable agent who has exemplified the very best qualities of service and sacrifice." As the President spoke, Leon held his breath, hands gripping onto his suit jacket to keep from trembling again.

At this point, you'd silently walked along the side with the guards from before, bringing the covered portrait up to the front before carefully placing it on your easel. "Throughout this nation's history, these agents have played an essential role in ensuring the safety and security of our nation's people and have consistently placed their lives on the line to protect the sanctity of our democracy. And today, we acknowledge one agent who has done so with unparalleled devotion."

"This retiring agent has been a silent sentinel, ensuring the continuity of our democratic ideals. Through countless hours of training, vigilance, and selflessness, they have demonstrated a level of commitment that is nothing short of extraordinary. But beyond their exceptional professional duties, this agent has been a friend and a confidant to those of us privileged to work alongside them. They have been a source of strength, a steady hand in turbulent times, and a symbol of the unbreakable bond that can form within the ranks of those who dedicate their lives to service."

You positioned yourself opposite of the President, placing your hands behind your back to keep your posture tall as you now smiled at the crowd, subtly scanning for Leon. His eyes were already on you when you found him, and your smile only widened further.

It prompted his own nervous smile, toying with the buttons on his jacket while turning his attention back to the President, wanting to remain respectful to his, honestly, very flattering speech so far. You followed Leon's eyes, seemingly having the same idea to just watch and listen.

"The sacrifices made by our agents often go unnoticed by the public, and that is by design. Their commitment to duty is matched only by their humility. But today, we pause to recognize and celebrate this retiring agent's dedication, valor, and sacrifice." The President continued to address the attendees in the room, giving you a quick nod before returning his focus to everyone in the entrance hall.

The President outstretched his hand towards Leon standing in the crowd, now staring at him with a prideful yet relaxed look. "To Mr. Leon S. Kennedy, our retiring agent and loyal friend, thank you for your 19 years of dedicated service to our nation. May your retirement be filled with the peace and contentment that you so richly deserve. You leave behind a legacy of honor and courage that will never be forgotten." The crowd of attendees clapped and cheered briefly, causing Leon to reach his hand up to wipe across his face. A poor way to hide his red face. He's done that before, hasn't he?

Once the crowd quieted back down, the President finished his speech with a classic, "May God bless you, your family, and may God continue to bless the United States of America. Thank you" before the crowd picked back up cheering and clapping. You clapped along with them, laughing at Leon's flustered expression. He could barely hold back his smile, not really have expecting to be so well recognized for his service.

Leon's queue to make his way to the front was when the President walked over to stand next to you, making sure not to block the covered portrait from anyone's view. He'd recited this speech to you countless times, even more to himself when he was alone, but all those eyes staring at him were causing him to fumble. He messed around with the mic once he was standing in front of it, and that was your queue to walk over and stand next to him, placing a loving hand on his forearm.

That's all he needed, just a little extra encouragement from the person he relied on the most. His speech was short and straight to the point, never having been a man of professional word, yet he still managed to slip in some words of praise for you and all the help you provided him during his rough patch earlier in the year.

Neither you or Leon had outright said it to each other, let alone to anyone else, but hearing him announce to the entire hall of people that you were his girlfriend made your heart soar. Speaking about you calmed his nerves, and he wanted everyone to know just how lucky he felt, like he'd hoped for earlier.

He bent over slightly to whisper in your ear, covering the mic with his hand to make sure it didn't pick up his voice. "Now, why don't you go ahead and show us all that masterpiece you spent months working on?" Oh, now you were the flustered one, giggling nervously as you gave his arm a gentle squeeze before walking over to where the painting sat on the easel.

"Ladies and gentleman," Leon's eyes followed you as he straightened his posture out, speaking into the mic once more with a wide smile gracing his features, "I'm honored to have the wonderful artist herself present my very own portrait to you." As he spoke, you carefully lifted the cloth from where it was draped over the painting, finally revealing the ever-awaited portrait to everyone.

Just like with Chris and Claire's, Leon was sat in that soft maroon chair, slightly off center, but his position was different with his right ankle rested atop his left knee, elbows on the arms of the chair while his hands rested in his lap, fingers interlaced. His smile was soft and partially crooked while he looked forward with relaxed eyes, a few strands of hair painted to sit in front of his brow. And to tie it all together, it had a lovely green background, a dark forest green as the base while a sage green was used to add texture. The vintage look had always been your favorite, and Leon fit it so perfectly. He was nearly timeless.

Many "ooo's" and "ahh's" were heard amongst the clapping from the crowd, along with a handshake from the President. Before you could turn to face Leon, you felt his arms slowly slink around you from underneath your arms, the weight of his head now pressing down on your shoulder. You could feel his grin when he tilted his head to kiss your jawline, beginning to gently rock you side to side. Getting to show off your work was always so rewarding, but just knowing Leon was handling everything so well was a feeling you'll truly never forget.

He was happy. That's all you ever wanted for him. The man has truly earned his portrait in that agent hall of fame.

The portrait was soon brought down to the aforementioned hall to be hung up and displayed for good, a few small groups trailing down to get a better look at it. Chris was the noisiest about it, telling Leon it looked like it belonged above a grand fireplace, to which said man agreed with.

Chris, Claire, Jill, and their respective families stared at it for quite some time alongside Leon and you. They all chatted while Leon stared quietly, taking in every little fine detail you'd added. You changed his position some, and did he really smile at you like that? He really did look lovestruck. Of course only he could tell that. Hopefully.

He surprised himself with how okay he felt after seeing the painting. You warned him multiple times that it would most likely be overwhelming and emotional, and while it was, it wasn't in a bad way. The most compelling thought he had right now was to just sweep you off your feet and smother you with love.

Leon asked one of the guards to take a picture of him with everyone, including you, in front of his portrait. Then, just a picture of you and him standing in front of it, easily becoming the background on his phone.

The party went on for only an hour or so more before people started to trickle out. You and Leon were some of the first to leave, saying all your thanks and goodbye's with hugs and handshakes.

The moment the two of you walked into your apartment he practically pounced on you before the door had shut, large hands gripping tight on your hips as he sloppily made out with you. He just had to show his gratitude for all your hard work.

Your lips tasted so sweet and your soft little moans were driving him wild, he couldn't help the groan that rumbled from his chest. Full blown sex had been held off by you, not wanting to rush him into anything while you helped him manage his problems. Honestly, he was glad you'd held off on him, because now that he was feeling like his own person again, it made waiting all the more fulfilling.

Leon hoisted you up into his arms after you'd kicked your heels off, holding onto the back of your thighs as he carried you to the bedroom. You wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling against his lips as he carefully navigated around the short hallway and into the bedroom.

You looked so good splayed out on the bed for him, that beautiful dress you chose was insanely flattering on you. It had to go though, so after yanking off his jacket he made quick work of your dress, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before pulling it up and over your head. Your bra and panties didn't last either. He'd only gotten to see you naked a couple times before, but god, he'll never get tired of seeing you this way, acting all shy like you weren't his favorite view.

Leon was so eager to get his hands on you that he neglected to take off his suit, opting instead to hover over you and bury his face into your neck. He wasn't a good artist, but he loved to cover your neck in shades of red and purple like you were his own little painting, akin to leaving his signature all over you.

He only pulled away once you tugged on his hair, listening to your begs and pleas for him to get his clothes off. As much as he wanted to prolong this night and tease you, he couldn't hold himself back. He needed to feel your soft skin against his.

"So perfect." Leon mumbled against your skin, licking and kissing his way up your stomach and to your breasts after practically ripping off his clothes. His hands found their way back to your hips, pressing them firm against the bed to keep you from squirming away as he nipped at one of your nipples, pulling it into his mouth.

He moaned as he sucked and circled his tongue around your nipple, his eyes falling closed. The other couldn't stay neglected, so he brought one hand up to pinch and tug at your other nipple, sighing when he felt your body press against his as you arched at the sensation. He loved when your moans would pitch, so cute.

His cock was pressed against the inside of your thigh, rutting against it when you would tug at his hair. Once he decided your nipples had enough attention, he sat up and grabbed the backs of your knees to place around his waist. The new position offered Leon the perfect opportunity to drag his leaking cock through your folds, pressing it down with his thumb so the tip would nudge your clit with every slow thrust forward.

You were so wet, so delicate. He could've fucked you right then, slid right into that juicy little pussy, but he needed to take care of you first. He would never forgive himself if he hurt you.

Reluctantly, the man pulled his dick away from you, letting out a poorly concealed whine at the loss. He ran his hands up your thighs before moving one hand so he could circle your clit with his thumb, the other hand back on your hip to keep you steady.

"L-eon~!" You brokenly moaned out, pleading to him with your watery eyes. You needed more; his fingers, his cock, anything. He couldn't say no to that, stopping his assault on your clit to drag his middle and ring finger through your drenched folds to wet them properly. He brought your right leg to sit over his shoulder, hand gripping the top of your thigh as he leaned forward, studying your face closely as he gently teased the outside of your slit with his middle finger.

He moaned with you as he slid his finger in, keeping his eyes trained on you as he started to tentatively thrust his finger in and out. "Yeah?" Leon whispered, licking his lips as you barely managed to nod. "Yeeeaah, there's my girl..." The rumble in his voice was music to your ears.

His ring finger was soon slid in next to his middle finger, switching between scissoring you and making a partial 'come here' motion with them. After only a couple minutes you were leaking all over his hand and the bed, the wet sounds of your pussy mixed with your moans making his cock jerk and drip with precum. Leon clenched his teeth as he slowly pulled his fingers from you, immediately bringing them to his mouth to suck off your juices. He let out an audible sigh after swallowing, repositioning his dick to slide through your folds a couple more times before nudging your hole with the tip.

"Look at me, baby..." Leon's hushed demand brought you to open your eyes, if only half way. He made eye contact with you before leaning forward further to kiss you, all the while finally pushing into you. He soaked in your gasp, his eyebrows furrowing as you tensed up. "Relax.. let me in~..."

"It's only me.." He panted, tilting his head to kiss the corner of your mouth as your eyes shut again. "It's only me, baby..." he repeated this a few more times as he eased his cock inside of you, the stretch only stinging for a moment before it turned to pleasure. He filled you perfectly, you could feel every bit of him, especially with his right hand adding a bit of pressure to your stomach.

Leon sat still for a minute to give you time to adjust, taking the way you moved your hips as a sign to move. He pulled out, all the way to the tip, before slowly thrusting back in. He managed to choke out a quiet "Fuck-.." when you clenched around him. "Taking me so well.. such a big girl~.."

He always knew just how to talk to you, making sure to take his time buttering you up. You were putty in his hands, and between his words and the feeling of him reaching so deep inside of you, you could barely think.

It didn't take long for him to start to lose his composure, the sound of wet skin slapping together filling the room as his thrusts intensified. "All mine. All for me." The grip he had on your thigh was sure to leave a bruise, but that was the last thing on your mind.

The hand he had pressing on your stomach moved further down so he could circle your clit with his thumb again, jaw tight as he looked from your blissed out expression to where his hand was playing with you. "Oh fuck! That's it!" Leon growled, eyes glued to your cunt as he plunged in and out of it. "Cream this dick, mamas~... Cum on my cock so I can fill this pretty pussy up.."

The way you gasped and moaned when you came was enough to warrant a noise complaint, but screw your neighbors. You needed this just as much Leon did.

"Oohhh fuck yeah.. Milk me, baby~... shit-" Leon's thrusts stuttered to a stop while pressed flush against you, abs flexing as he pumped ropes of cum into you. Once you managed to open your eyes, all you could do was stare at the man, flushed pink and sweaty, sitting between your legs. Both of you moaned in tandem as he pulled out, Leon groaning to himself as he watched his cum drip from your pussy. Truly a work of art meant for his eyes only.

He leaned over you again to plant a quick kiss on your lips, chuckling when he felt you smile. "Let me go grab something to clean you up, okay?" You could only nod in response, reaching your hand up to caress the side of his face before he stood up from the bed. He walked across the hall into the bathroom, wetting a soft rag with warm water before making his way back over to you.

Leon made sure to be gentle when cleaning you, the warmth from the rag soothing your tender skin. You were able to sit up on your elbows and watch him, using his gentle touches as a way to calm your still racing heart.

After wiping himself off with the rag, he tossed it over in the general direction of your laundry basket. It was a problem for later. Right now, he wanted lay back on the bed and pull you up so you could lay on top of him. Along with just how nice it felt to hold you, he loved the weight of you on him. So that's what he did, pulling you onto him after laying on the bed, running his fingers though your hair on the back of your head.

"Leon." You muttered against his collarbone. His eyebrows raised, yet his eyes were closed. "Mm?" His right eye peaked open when he felt you giggle. "What?"

"I love you." His fingers paused their ministrations at your words. You lifted your head up to look at him, growing worried with his shocked expression. "Sorry, is that too-" you choked on your words, stopped mid-sentence by Leon's arms suddenly squeezing the breath out of you with a very tight hug. He pulled you up just a little further so he could smush his lips against yours.

"I love you too!" He breathed out excitedly. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to tell you!" You tapped his arm and he immediately relaxed his grip, mumbling a small, "Sorry, my bad.." when you took in a deep breath.

"You're adorable, Leon." You shook your head with a smile, brushing the hair from his face to give him a much gentler kiss before settling you head back against his chest with a quiet sigh.

Leon was still a tough man, but you made him soft. Only ever soft for you.

Side note: I totally forgot to add in the pussy eating i am so sorry. i thought i did but it was literally just a thought that never manifested 😭

tags!: @greywardensaywhat @xkittiecatx @httpsuguru @httpsuguru @k-fallingstar @lysa1201 @bobastayhigh @pocketstoriesstore @agent-dessis-posts @klee-iii @missjoenowhere @mi-zer-y @bigtiddiesimp @finsternisle @sweets3rial @sodacolablast (there's a few of you that tumblr wouldn't let me tag for some reason)

[pandalandalopalis]

Devil May Cry Wolf - Matt Murdock x Mutant Reader [Chapter Eighteen]

Masterlist Previous Chapter

Story Synopsis: The first time you jumped, it was 2014 and you were nine years old. You were in the back of your parents’ car — then you were in New York, standing on the street … and it was 1992.

The second time you jumped, it was 1998 and you were fifteen years old. You were heading back home to Saint Agnes after school had ended — and then you were knee-deep in snow, in Russia, in 1970. Outside a Red Room facility.

The third time you jumped, you were twenty-five and had spent ten years training as a Red Room agent. Ten years training your body to use your mutation. Jumping in space was easy — jumping in time was not. But you did it. After ten years, you did it. Now you have to live with the trauma.

Five years later, killing is still the only thing you know how to do, and the only thing you do best. In 2016, a vigilante named Daredevil stops you from killing a man who attacked you. He tells you that you can do better. You think maybe he’s right. But in 2017, Matt Murdock is in the darkest place in his life. When you show up to save him, he’s not exactly grateful. And when he finds out that you’re the best friend he grew up with in Saint Agnes that disappeared almost 20 years ago — things get even more complicated.

You’ll have to drag Matt out of the dark while being jaw-deep in it yourself. And you’ll have to try your best to do better — when Matt is trying his best to do worse.

Chapter Synopsis: The Avengers ask you to go undercover. Matt finally questions why you’re still with the Avengers when you’re no longer planning on killing Bucky.

Part 2 - Chapter Eighteen: Miss Congeniality A/N: Hey it turns out I have no idea how to write normal-length chapters anymore I just keep on talking until suddenly I’m in an 11k word fucking swamp Editing this felt like smashing my face against a brick wall 👍 Happy Daredevil Born Again Day!!!!!!!!!! A/N 2: I think in comic canon Steve and Clint speak Russian but just for plot sake let’s pretend the only Avengers who speak Russian are Bucky and Natasha.

You had a briefing meeting with the Avengers this morning, which was not unusual — but what was unusual was the tenseness of the room when you entered. 

The meeting table consisted of Fury, Steve, Bucky, and Clint. It was normal to have a mission that didn’t involve all the members of the team — different missions required different skills and sometimes multiple missions transpired at a time. Whether you tagged along on these missions depended on level of danger and security clearance. Some missions you flew in the jet with them and then waited for them to come back; others you stayed at the Tower and patched them up there. You were aware that Natasha was on a solo mission at the moment; Thor was on Asgard; and perhaps Tony and Bruce just weren’t needed for whatever this mission briefing was about.

The tenseness in the room was coming from Steve, who had his arms crossed and looked very unhappy. His eyes raised when you entered, and he gave you a tight smile.

“Please sit, Y/N,” Fury offered.

You got the feeling that a discussion had taken place before you got there. “I’m sorry, am I late? The notification said 9:15am.”

“No, you’re right on time,” Fury said. “But it just so happens that this briefing has to do with you.”

You willed your expression to remain calm. There was no way they could have found out the truth. You had covered all your tracks. You had been careful getting into this job, scrubbing your public background; you hadn’t made any slip-ups— This couldn’t be about that. There was no way. No way.

“Legally, I have to remind you that your job here is as the Avengers’ medic and you are not obligated to do anything further than that job description,” Fury began.

What the fuck? “Right. . .” you agreed, wanting him to get to the point.

Fury opened the folder in front of him and spun it around so you could see it. There was a picture of a man, clearly taken from far away. “You see this guy? He’s an underground arm’s dealer who we suspect has ties to Hydra. We need someone to go undercover and pose as a buyer who can get him to admit his less than savoury affiliations so we can arrest him.”

You internally loosed a breath of relief. It’s just a fucking sting operation. 

Wait. But what the fuck does that have to do with me?

“Right,” you said again. “That’s, uh, what is that, a ‘sting’ operation, right? They do that in cop shows.” Psh. Like you’d ever seen a procedural cop drama before. Although Foggy got you to watch some episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and that one was pretty good.

“The problem is, we need someone that he doesn’t know,” Fury continued.

Ah. That’s what this was about. “You want me to go undercover,” you concluded.

“You don’t have to,” Steve interjected. 

“That’s up to her,” Fury said.

Steve’s voice was firm as he continued, “She doesn’t need to be involved in this. She’s still recovering from what happened to her.”

Oh. That’s why he was so unhappy. He was thinking of when you were kidnapped and tortured.

Aw. That’s kind of sweet.

“And the three of you will be there to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Fury directed to Steve, Bucky, and Clint as if they’d already had this conversation and this was an exhausted reminder. He turned back to you. “No mission is without risks, and you are an untrained civilian. But I can’t understate the importance of this mission. If this guy is who we think he is, and we do, then we’ll be taking out a major player in Hydra’s operation. I can’t tell you anymore than that, but know that if we can arrest this guy, we’ll be saving a lot of people.”

“It doesn’t need to be her,” came Steve’s annoyed voice.

“It’ll be difficult to get anyone else on such short notice,” Fury said. “We have a small window of opportunity. Y/N, like I said before, you’re not obligated to do this, and it won’t affect your job if you say no. But. . .”

“Can I have some time to think about it?” Truthfully, you were giddy. A sting operation sounded really fun. Despite many of the Red Room’s more unsavoury missions, you did like going undercover. It was fun to play pretend. To trick people. But here you weren’t Y/N the ex-Red Room agent. You were Y/N the medic who had no formal undercover training. So you had to pretend like you needed time to think it over.

Steve nodded. “You can have as much time as you need.”

“You can have twelve hours,” Fury corrected. “Take the day off. Think it through.”

You nodded and stood.

Leaving the room, you noticed Steve catching up with you, and you paused walking down the hall. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You brought forth a mix of complicated feelings onto your face. “It does sound kind of scary.”

He nodded. “This kind of work isn’t easy.”

“But . . . you’ll be there, right?” you asked. “If something goes wrong. . .”

Steve rested his hands on your shoulders and looked you in the eyes. “If you do decide you want to do this, we won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

‘We’. The ‘we’ included Bucky Barnes.

The Winter Soldier.

Only bad things happened when he would come to the Red Room. 

Something . . . annoyed twinged in you. Crawled in your skin. 

The Doc’s words echoed in your mind: “You don’t like that the Avengers trust him to be in their group. How do you reconcile that with Steve’s ‘unshakeable morals’?”

You pushed at the memory. Tried to ignore it. 

You made yourself smile at Steve. “If you’re there, then I think it’ll be okay.”

Steve returned your smile, though still tinged with concern. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I’m sure.”

As it turned out, you were a quick study on the blind hand-to-hand combat.

Matt was a good teacher, and over time he got you to understand what it meant to fight with your body and not your eyes. 

And today, for the first time since you started, you won the fight.

You were sweating and exhausted but you kept it up, found the energy to keep going and concentrate and anticipate his moves the way you would if you could see them. It wasn’t perfect, and you still got hit a lot, but finally, finally , you managed to get Matt pinned in a Half Nelson — your body was under his with your legs wrapped around his waist and you had his head and one of his arms trapped in the hold. You kept the hold tight, not worried about hurting him (you wouldn’t want him to go easy on you, either), and after a few agonizing moments of keeping him pinned like that, he finally tapped out.

You let go with a rushed exhale. You both laid there for a moment, breathing laboured, Matt a heavy but not uncomfortable weight on top of you.

“Not bad,” came Matt’s voice.

“Not bad? Fuck you.”

You heard him chuckle, then felt his arm reach up and pull the blindfold off your eyes. Hallelujah, your sight had returned.

You remained lying on the mat, catching your breath, as Matt got up and off of you. After a moment, he came back into your line of sight and handed you a water bottle, which you took gratefully.

“You’re getting better,” Matt said as you drank. You handed him back the water bottle, and he took a swig himself. “What about trying blind teleporting?”

“Slow down there, cowboy,” you replied, unsure about the suggestion. 

“You’re a fast learner, Y/N. You pick things up like that.” He snapped his fingers. “You could do it if you tried; I know you could. And the way you incorporate teleporting into your fighting, it’s all instinct; all body. Everything we’ve been doing. Am I wrong?”

You had to be a fast learner. Learning quickly and your teleportation skill, those were the things that kept you alive. You were fifteen when you ended up at the Red Room — much older than they liked. The teleporting made you interesting enough to keep; and being a fast learner made you good enough to find your place there. They wouldn’t have just let you go if you were untrainable — they would have killed you. 

And so this new training, what you’d been doing with Matt. . . Since getting sober, it had been raising more of that fight-or-flight survival mode within you. More than once, you had to pause what you were doing to fight through a panic attack, which Matt patiently helped you through every time. Because with every wrong move, your body felt the memory, the sting of metal across your cheek. The threat of death that hung over your head should you make a mistake. 

The Winter Soldier was not as forgiving an instructor as Matt was. 

But . . . there was something about Matt’s encouragement that gave you . . . drive? Hope? It made you want to fight against the fear and keep going. If he believed in you . . . maybe you could believe in you, too.

Eugh. Cheesy.

He was also right. Teleporting large distances required concentration but you did learn to teleport on instinct in close-quarters hand-to-hand combat. Your body knew when to disappear and where to reappear the same way it knew when and where to land a punch or a kick. If you could fight on muscle memory alone, maybe you could do it with teleportation, too.

“Fine. Next time.” You took the water bottle back from his hand and took a large drink. Then, “Fury asked me to go on an undercover mission and I said yes.”

Panic rose sharply in Matt, like a knee-jerk reaction he couldn’t control. “ What? You’re a civilian, why the hell would they ask you to do that?” He thought of her, tortured and bloody in that abandoned parking lot, there because the Avengers didn’t have enough safeguards to protect her. 

There was something pleased in you over Matt’s worried reaction. You held up your hands, giving him a half-amused look. “Okay, breathe, and remember that I’m not actually a civilian. I would be fine. That being said . . . I could use Daredevil’s help on this. I’d like to keep my cover as a civilian and if things get sticky then I’d like you there to watch my back.”

Matt nodded, not hesitating to say, “Of course.” It would make him feel better if he was there, anyway. Not that he didn’t trust the Avengers to keep her safe, but it was easier to be reassured if he had control over the outcome. That being said, he wondered why she was asking for back-up in the first place. Wasn’t the Avenger she was dating going to be watching her back? “But isn’t Steve going to be there?”

Y/N gave a half-sigh. “I like Steve. He’s kind and honest. And also a great kisser. I have no doubt that he will do everything in his power to keep me safe. . . . But I’m also a realist. I don’t like taking chances. And you are still the only person I trust to keep me safe.”

Matt felt honoured every time she reaffirmed her trust in him, knowing how deeply it meant to her. But at the same time . . . something about it made him feel sad. That it was only him she trusted. “Y’know, I’m flattered every time you tell me that, but . . . shouldn’t that change at some point? Expand your circle of trust? If you could call one person a circle.”

She huffed. “Oh don’t you worry, that is a reoccurring conversation in the ole therapist’s office.”

He gave her a smile. There was some relief in that knowledge, at least. “Well, good.” Maybe the Doc could convince her that trusting people could be a good thing. “So. When and where do you need Daredevil?”

They prepped you as best they could without Natasha (the undercover expert, trained in the same place you were) there to give you pointers. Stay calm. We’ll be speaking to you through the comm in your ear. Touch your mouth if you need help with what to say next. We’ll be listening and watching the whole time. If you don’t think you can do it and want to end the conversation, thank him for hosting you and get up to leave. We’ll pull you out if there’s resistance. Remember that you’re a buyer — as far as he knows, he has no reason to hurt you. 

You were given some information and talking points to try to suss out his identity as Hydra, but other than that, you weren’t given much. They told you his alias was Alexander Smith, but couldn’t give you his real name for security reasons. 

They allowed you to pick an outfit you would be comfortable in, with the instructions that the dress code was business formal. So you chose a black dress that in the front appeared rather conservative, but was backless — you knew it would be sultry enough to catch the attention of any man and lower his guard.

The four of you (you, Steve, Bucky, Clint), were sitting in the sleek car with blacked-out windows as it pulled up to the meeting spot. You feigned nervous energy as the car came to a stop.

“Do you need me to go over it with you again, one more time?” Steve asked.

You took his hand in yours and shook your head, as if you were putting on a brave front. “I can do this.”

“Remember, we’ll be listening the whole time, and we have access to the security cameras so we’ll always have eyes on you,” Clint reassured you.

You gave him a nod. Then you squeezed Steve’s hand, kissed his cheek, and got out of the car.

As soon as you were out of sight of the Avengers, your expression dropped. This was what you were made to do.

Time to go to work.

You gave the security guards your alias (“Anastasia Lockhart”), and they led you inside. It was a fancy restaurant with many rich patrons enjoying their food as you were escorted by. You were not sat at any table in the restaurant itself, oh no. You were taken past the kitchens, to a secluded room at the very back, where you knew no restaurant goers would be able to hear any meeting mishaps. Like gunshots or screaming.

You knew Daredevil would already be in the building, listening for you and following your progress to the backroom. He’d be somewhere nearby, overhearing the conversation and ready to step in on a moment’s notice.

The man sitting at the table stood when you entered the room. “Ah, Miss Lockhart. Welcome.”

His face was familiar to you.

It nagged on the edge of your eidetic memory. You could usually place faces so easily, but for some reason you couldn’t place this one.

Putting a pin in that for now, you turned your back to Smith and took off your wrap, letting him get an eyeful of your bare back. You handed your wrap to an attendant, then turned back as Smith approached. 

You could see from the look in his eyes that the backless dress had the intended effect. He kissed your hand to greet you, then put a hand on your bare back and gestured to the table. “Please, sit.”

You approached the table and he pulled back the chair for you and pushed it in once you sat down. 

Dark crimson filling your glass caught your eye, the waiter pouring a glass of wine for you. With some effort, you peeled your eyes away and kept your hands very still on the table. 

Smith headed back to his seat at the other end. “[Maybe if I’m lucky she’ll let me fuck her after I close this deal],” he directed to the man standing at his right. “[Did you see her back? I’d pay her to let me come on that.]”

It wasn’t the vulgar words that bothered you — it wasn’t anything you hadn’t heard a hundred times before. 

It was the language.

Russian.

Outwardly, your expression never changed. But inside, you were being bombarded by memories — The ten years you lived where you only spoke Russian, the language of the Red Room. In your mind, Russian and the Red Room were one and the same. You couldn’t hear it without thinking of the other. That language could never be untangled from the horrors you suffered.

Your hand twitched to take the wine and down it. To calm down a little.

Hidden in the other room, Matt could hear Y/N’s heartbeat picking up. He couldn’t tell if it was the Russian that was bothering her or what they were saying — Unfortunately for Matt, he still didn’t speak asshole.

Hidden in the other, other room, Bucky grimaced at Smith’s derogatory words. He was thankful that Y/N didn’t speak Russian, because she didn’t deserve to be spoken about that way.

But Bucky was here to translate, and so Steve looked to him and asked, “What did he say?”

Bucky just gave his friend an uncomfortable look. “You really don’t want to know.”

Steve’s lips pressed in a tight line as he understood what Bucky was getting at. He looked back at the screen, tenser than he was before.

Your fingers traced the stem of the wine glass. Then you took a breath, slid your hand away, and said, “I’m sorry I don’t speak Russian. Although I hear Russia is beautiful this time of year. I regret I’ve never been.”

His eyes looked you up and down as he brought his wine glass to his lips. You clocked his age somewhere in his sixties. “Maybe one day I will take you.”

You gave him a coy smile. “Perhaps I would like that.” On to business. “So. You’re a salesman. Sell me something.” The way you spoke, your tone made it sound like you were asking him to go to bed with you.

“Oh come now. The night is young! I’d rather speak of other things first.” Now his tone was— You get the gist.

“I came here for a reason you know.” Your tone remained light and seductive, but firm. Like a game of push and pull. You were good at reading people — you had to be for your job. Former job. It was life or death. And this was the kind of man who liked being pushed. The kind of man who wanted a challenge. 

“You haven’t even touched your wine yet,” he pointed out. “Please; you’ll insult this poor man’s pride. I bring only the best and most expensive for my beautiful clients. At least a sip, hm?”

Matt’s hands tightened into fists. He was aware of the precarious situation Y/N was in — this guy was dangerous. And it was never a good idea to anger a dangerous man.

But . . . she had made so much progress. Matt knew what Y/N’s sobriety had done for her — and although the past two months had been really fucking difficult, Y/N had been more alive and herself lately than he’d seen. . . 

Since she disappeared. And maybe she wasn’t . . . happy, yet, but she was getting there.

And this one moment could undo all of that progress.

“Just take a sip, it’s okay,” you heard Clint’s voice in your ear. “He wouldn’t poison a potential client. Bad for business.”

You could take a sip. Just a sip. That wouldn’t be so bad, right? Just one sip. One little, little sip. You’d earned it, right? Two months of sobriety deserved a celebration. And you don’t want to piss off the scary Hydra arms dealer, right? Go on. 

Take a sip.

You picked up the glass of wine. Held the stem between your fingers, allowed the bowl to rest on your palm. Swirled the deep red inside. Once. Twice. Took a deep inhale. You were never a wine connoisseur so you couldn’t say what notes you were smelling, but it smelled good. Really good.

Then you took the glass of wine, and poured it out onto the floor next to you.

A look of shock crossed Smith’s face. You brought the wine glass back to sit on the table, then neatly folded your hands into your lap. “I don’t drink when I’m discussing business.”

Drinking the wine wouldn’t make you a challenge. If you wanted this sting to work, you needed to be a challenge.

There was a thick tension in the room, like the men around Smith and the waiters were holding their breath. Fearful of what would come next. 

Then he laughed. “I like you. You don’t let a man push you around. I prefer that in a woman.”

Translation: I like breaking my women in.

Hearing the wine spill onto the floor, Matt smiled to himself.

Good girl.

Steve exhaled sharply. That was a risky move that Y/N pulled off. He’d be proud if he wasn’t so tense.

“That was definitely one of the most insane things I’ve ever seen,” Clint commented. “But I respect the hell out of it.”

Steve felt Bucky’s hand on his shoulder. “She’s good at this,” he said, like a reassurance.

Steve nodded, his eyes glued to the screen. To Y/N. “Let’s hope she can keep being good at this.”

Smith snapped and gestured to one of his men. “Bring her the catalogue.”

A book was placed in front of you. You opened it to find pages of weapons and weapons and even more weapons. Now you were getting somewhere.

Smith leaned back as you perused. Turned to make another snide comment to his men. “[She looks just like a ballerina I used to know in Moskva].”

Your whole body locked up.

Ten years of Red Room training kept any expression off your face. You knew how to keep your appearance calm while everything screamed on the inside.

Slowly, you looked up.

You understood why he looked familiar now.

Alexei.

You couldn’t place him before because his face had aged too much. But you could see it now. The resemblance to the young man you knew.

The young KGB agent you knew.

1975. Twenty years old. KGB liked pairing Red Room agents with their own officers. They made for an effective team. 

First time you were spending hours of one on one time with someone who wasn’t another Widow, Madam Ilyukhina, the Winter Soldier, or a mark. 

You had five years of Red Room training then but you were still young and stupid. Alexei was dangerous. His special skill was torture. But he was nice to you. He saved you from one or two close calls. He had your back.

He was handsome.

And you were chasing a high you’d not had since you got to the Red Room: the ability to make your own choices. To choose who had access to your body. To choose who could touch you and kiss you. Sex had never felt like that before. As something to be enjoyed rather than as a tool to be used. 

And the other thing.

“Did you love him?”

“ Fuck. God, no. I may have been wrong about him but I wasn’t that wrong. For that I think I would have killed him.”

Alexei was not Russo. It was not just sex for you.

But he betrayed you.

You should have seen it coming. But you were young and naive and blinded by love and the taste of freedom. The thought that you could get out, the two of you, and live some kind of happily ever after with the parts of your soul you still had left.

He was not your Prince Charming. He was a KGB agent. He worked for the Russian government. He worked for the Red Room. 

But what did kindness taste like to someone who had only known blood in their mouth for the past five years? You couldn’t taste the danger. You should have known better, but there was sweet in the bitter and you’d been starving for it for so long.

You had asked him to run away with you and he turned you into the Red Room.

It took everything you had in this moment to remember the promise you’d made to Matt, to yourself — the reason you didn’t kill anymore. It would be so easy. It would be so easy to teleport over to him and stick a knife in his neck. So so easy. 

Y/N’s heart rate spiked up, hard. Matt couldn’t understand the Russian but whatever Smith said hit something deep in her.

Matt prepared himself for a fight. If things were about to get dicey, he’d be ready.

You struggled harder to compartmentalize without the alcohol. Without the drugs. The promise you made was there, pushing, reminding, but fuck you wished there was a caveat. An asterisk. An addendum, an exception — no killing except for him . No killing except for this man who betrayed and broke your trust worse than Billy Russo. Who stole your one chance at freedom and threw you back into the shackles of the Red Room. 

The torture had been so bad. When you got back.

However.

You knew the one person you wanted to be your exception, and it wasn’t Alexei Matorin.

It was always in the back of your thoughts, ever since you got sober. That maybe you could change your mind. That maybe you could still kill him and move on with your life.

Bucky.

“Matt would forgive you. But would you forgive yourself?”

You didn’t have an answer for that yet. But now was not the time to make that choice.

Alexei Matorin was sitting in front of you, and you had a mission to fulfill for the Avengers. 

Or you were going to kill him. Hm.

The memories were flaring vivid and unsuppressed and he was right there — right here, right within arms length, and you never got your chance at revenge before. 

Kill him; don’t kill him; kill him; don’t kill him; this is like the most fucked up version of ‘He loves me he loves me not’ I’ve ever played.

For now, at least, it was outside of everyone’s best interests to make a scene. Maybe you could fulfill the Avengers’ mission and still kill-him-not-kill-him.

You returned your attention to the catalogue of weapons. “These are impressive,” you conceded, like you weren’t talking about his weapons. “But.” You leaned back in your chair, leveling his gaze with your own. “I was hoping for something a little more . . . advanced than this.”

“I promise you, Malishka, these are the most advanced on the market,” Alexei said with a hand over his heart. 

Baby girl. The Russian term turned your stomach, too many bad memories associated with it to count — but you refused to let it distract you. “Ah, but I heard a rumour,” you continued. “That you have tech. From Dr Arnim Zola.” 

Alexei’s friendly expression faded. “And where did you hear such a rumour?”

You didn’t answer his question. “Is it true?”

“If it was, I’d be a very rich man indeed.”

You didn’t blink. “Aren’t you? Alexe-ander?” You pushed the pronunciation of the first half of his alias name, beginning with just a hint of Russian accent and ending with your regular American accent. 

He stood suddenly. Walked to your side of the table. Towered over you.

Maybe the name was pushing it too far.

“[Do you know something you shouldn’t, Malishka?]” Alexei asked you in Russian.

You gave him no indication that you understood what he said. “Is that Russian for, ‘Yes, of course, Pretty Face, I’ll give you anything you want?” you asked sweetly, keeping up the ruse.

Alexei was unamused. “[Kill her.]”

Your expression did not change. You knew this was a test — he wanted to know if you spoke Russian. If you were a bigger threat than he first observed. If you really spoke Russian, and if you were really stupid, you’d flinch at his command and move to protect yourself.

You did speak Russian but you were not stupid. You blinked at him like you still didn’t understand, then gave an annoyed sigh. “Look, if you don’t want to sell me the Hydra tech, there are others I can buy it from.” You stood, one hand still resting on the table. It was inches from the steak knife. Your fingers itched to move, but you kept them still. “Though I’m sure they won’t be as sweet to me as you are.” You gave him that flirtatious smile once again.

Finally, his suspicious look melted. “Perhaps I could make an exception. If you made it worth my while, of course.”

The insinuation was clear. You laid a hand on his chest. “I’m sure we could come to some kind of agreement.”

“Sergei,” he said with a snap of his fingers, “bring Miss Lockhart the red catalogue.”

Finally. Now you were getting somewhere.

“[Kill her.]”

Bucky stood in an immediate panic as he watched the screen, the Russian crystal clear in his ears. 

“We have to get her out, now — Now!”

You were seconds away from the Hydra weapons catalogue being placed in your hands — when suddenly Steve, Bucky, and Clint burst into the room with their weapons up.

Alexei’s arm snatched around your waist, pulling your back to his chest. You felt him dig painfully deep in your ear, pulling out the comm.

“Suka,” he hissed. Not the first time someone called you a bitch in Russian. Alexei threw the comm on the ground and stepped on it.

The next second, sharp metal pressed to your neck under your jaw. The fucking steak knife.

“Put your weapons down,” Alexei said slowly. “Or I’ll spill her blood all over this floor.”

You knew he’d do it. You’d seen him do it many times.

Steve, expression tight, waved his hand and Bucky and Clint lowered their weapons. “You can go. Just don’t hurt her.”

Alexei slowly moved backwards, keeping you bound to him. Back and back, you passed his goons who all had their guns out, now. Further, you went through the door at the back of the room, where even more goons were assembling in the hallway behind.

Matt, you’ve got your goddamn work cut out for you.

The door closed with Steve’s face being the last thing you saw — And then all the lights went out.

Very suddenly there was another presence in front of you — you felt the knife leave your neck, felt Alexei get knocked back behind you as you were snatched into the arms of the other.

The grooves of the suit were familiar under your hands as you steadied yourself on Matt’s shoulders, his hands secure on your waist.

“My hero~” you crooned with a smile you knew he could sense.

You could hear the shouting of the blinded, disoriented men around you. “Are you going to help or are you just going to stand and look pretty?” Matt asked.

“You don’t know what I look like,” you teased. “Maybe I’ll stand and look ugly.”

“I know what you look like,” he threw back. “I can hear the accelerated heartbeat of every man that can see you.”

This promoted a strangely satisfied feeling in your chest. “Well maybe I’m just that ugly.”

You suddenly felt Matt’s arms band around your middle and bring you flush against him, picking you up and moving you to his other side where your back pressed against the wall. A few months of blind combat training told you he just narrowly saved you from a goon slashing blindly in the dark. 

Matt was so close to you in the dark that his breath fanned your face when he spoke. “In thirty seconds the back-up lights are going to turn on,” he said. “If you’re going to disappear, you better do it now.”

You nodded, and let yourself vanish.

By the time you returned after swapping your undercover look for fighting clothes and the wolf mask, the hallway was bathed in red backup lights and the fighting was in full swing. 

You teleported to Daredevil’s back, offering support as he was fighting off at least fifteen guys on his own.

“Didn’t think you could fight in the dress, huh?” Matt teased as you were busy smashing your elbow into a goon’s face. Matt parried himself and gave a goon a sharp right hook. “Y’know, you once said you could fight me in just your heels.”

“You want me to fight you naked in heels? Bring back the black suit, Mr Practicality.”

You disarmed one of the men and smashed the gun into his face — but movement at the end of the hall caught your attention.

Alexei.

You are not getting away this time, fuckface.

You teleported to him and slammed your body into his, knocking him to the ground. Surprise and the blow disoriented him — he reached for the gun at his belt but you easily kicked it out of his hand. 

Alexei was once a skilled KGB agent. Fighter. Torturer. But he was no longer as young as he once was, and you had only gotten stronger since the last time you saw him.

You kneeled on his chest and hit him. 

Over. 

And over. 

And over. 

And over.

And over.

The blood on Alexei’s face looked almost black under the red light.

You’d always thought he bled that colour, anyway.

“[Did you miss me, Alexei?]” you asked him in Russian, pressing one of your knives against his throat. “[Because I missed you. So much.]”

Even under the red light, you could see the gears turning in his mind. He watched you teleport. You doubted he knew anyone else who could do that. It was your most prized skill in the Red Room. 

His eyes were wide and his mouth was full of blood and disbelief. “[Little Wolf?]”

You pressed the knife harder against his throat, drawing blood. “[You left me in the Red Room to die. Did you think I would not come for you?]”

And you relished the fear in his eyes.

It was Y/N speaking in Russian that caught Matt’s attention. He’d sensed her go after Smith, expected her to rough him up a bit (or a lot), and then tie him up for the Avengers. But she wasn’t. 

Matt couldn’t understand what she was saying but he could understand everything else — Her heart hammering against her ribcage, her hissed words, the tension in her body, and the knife against Smith’s throat.

There was something very personal about this.

Was she— 

Was she about to cross that line?

You wanted to. You wanted to more than anything else here, in this moment, right here, with Alexei underneath you, with your knife right where you wanted it, where you only needed to press a little harder and it could be done with. You could finally be done with him. Show him that there were consequences for hurting you. And let him rot in Hell where he belonged.

But.

Your hand stayed frozen in place. Kept the knife at his throat but not in his throat. 

It was Matt’s words that echoed in your mind.

You shouldn’t have to give up a part of your soul for him.

You were angrier that you had ever felt and you were that hot, burning pyre again, destroying and purifying everything in your path and you wanted this chapter of your life over and done with and you wanted him dead and he deserved to be dead and buried and rotting—

But you did not deserve to lose more pieces of your soul. 

You wouldn’t let him take another piece.

So as much as you wanted to, you wouldn’t kill him.

But you would make him suffer.

Bucky, Steve, and Clint finally burst through the doors in the hallway after taking down the men in the small dining room— And there was a man in the hallway who seemed to be fighting Smith’s goons and doing a good job of it.

Not any man, Bucky realized as the three of them began helping take the goons down — Daredevil. He was surprised to see the vigilante again, here of all places, but that was lower on the list of priorities than finding Y/N and making sure she was okay.

Bucky’s eyes scanned the hallway, looking for Y/N, looking for Smith—

And a terrible yowling filled all their ears, coming from the back, as a second vigilante figure with a wolf mask began stabbing her knife into Smith’s eyes.

Bucky watched her as she finished, methodically wiping the blood from her knife and replacing it in her sheath. And next—

She suddenly disappeared and reappeared before his eyes, joining the four of them in the fighting. 

And watching her fight. . .

He knew that fighting style anywhere. 

He’d seen it in Nat.

In his own memories.

Widow.

By the time all the men were either unconscious or groaning in pain, the power system in the building had finally rebooted and the lights were back on.

You stalked back to Alexei, where he was still shouting and crying over the bloody mess that was once his eyes. He wasn’t dead, but . . . you found there was something so much more satisfying about this. His blood on your hands, the eyes you had taken, the prison he’d rot in until his natural death — It was better than ending it quick. Let him suffer long and painfully until the true end.

“Y/N — Where is she?” Captain America asked Daredevil.

“Don’t worry; she’s safe,” Matt answered, then continued with the lie, “I hid her in a storage room down the hall. She’s uninjured.” He tilted his head as he listened to Y/N tie up Smith and then drag his body over to the Avengers.

She didn’t kill him. He didn’t know who this person was to her, but he felt proud of her for not doing it. To continue to uphold the promise she made to him.

“Thank you, for helping,” Steve said. “But . . . what are you doing here?”

“We’re here on our own business,” Daredevil answered vaguely. “We’d been tracking this guy for a while. I didn’t know Y/N was going to be here.”

“You brought a Widow here?” said the archer Matt hadn’t met before. He wasn’t one of the Avengers that was there when Y/N was kidnapped. Hawkeye, Matt remembered. Clint Barton. Y/N mentioned him before. He was close with Natasha Romanoff, so it made sense that he recognized a Widow’s fighting style. “Widows are not good company to keep.”

Anger itched within Matt. He gave Hawkeye a tight smile and kept his voice cold. “Pot. Kettle.”

“Natasha has proven herself to SHIELD and to us,” Hawkeye replied with arms crossed. “She’s reformed.” He gestured to Y/N. “I don’t know this person.”

“You don’t have to know her. I do.”

Hawkeye gestured to Smith, tied up and bleeding on the floor in front of them. “She stabbed out his eyes!” 

“Maybe he deserved it.” The approval and satisfaction was clear in Matt’s voice. “Look, we’re done here, so it really doesn’t matter what you think.”

But Hawkeye wasn’t letting up. “It matters because you brought a Black Widow assassin to help save our friend. I don’t trust a Widow with that, not one that Natasha hasn’t vetted first.”

“I told you, we didn’t come here to save your medic, we came here on our own business,” Matt continued to lie.

Hawkeye shook his head. “Pretty big coincidence you show up twice to help her. Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care what you believe. And for the record, this Widow saved your friend’s life. You should thank her.”

As you stood there and took all of this, let Matt defend you, you grew angrier.

And angrier.

Trust? He wanted to talk about trust? Look who was standing right next to him. Look who they were fucking trusting. Your skin was crawling. How was this fair? 

(You didn’t get to kill Alexei. And although you were ultimately happy with your decision, there was still a lot of unspent rage within you. Retribution with nowhere to put it. You tore out Alexei’s eyes and that was good, that felt good and bloody and angry but it wasn’t enough. And now? Now you had to stand in front of the Avengers, in front of the Winter Soldier, and listen to them talk about not trusting you?)

“Could have done without the mutilation,” Bucky said under his breath. He was honestly sympathetic to her. He could relate to being raised and honed as a weapon — and then getting out. But it wasn’t without its adjustment periods. Learning how much violence was socially acceptable was one of those adjustments. 

He felt the attention shift to him and his comment.

Bucky sighed. “Look, I would have liked to have stabbed his eyes out myself,” he admitted, thinking of Y/N, thinking of the dirty words Smith said about her and the knife he pressed to her neck, “but that’s just not how things are done here.”

Something snapped in you. “[I didn’t kill him; that’s good enough],” you seethed to him in Russian.

He blinked at you, like he didn’t expect you to speak, or he didn’t expect you to address him in Russian. “[There’s due process here. That’s how justice is served.]”

“Justice?” The word shocked you enough to switch back to English. You barked a laugh, something that was not funny or amused. It was dark. Heavy. A cold frustration seeped into your bones. “Justice. Trust. You want to talk about trust? How about the Avengers trusting Hydra’s attack dog not to bite them or anyone else?” (You were trusting that your tone was different enough from your fakey medic voice that none of the Avengers recognized it. Or maybe, you simply didn’t care.)

Steve moved between you and Bucky, taking a step toward you. “Bucky was brainwashed by Hydra. None of what he did was his fault.”

Hot hot rage burned up and up and up— Hot and uncomfortable, like a broken furnace you couldn’t turn off. Tears ran down your face behind your mask. “Yeah?” How ignorant. How dismissive. Was he there for any of it? Did he deal with bruises and broken bones and scars that wouldn’t go away? Felt the hauntings of the mindless, emotionless monster who stalked the corner of the room? Felt the fear? The terror that only a child could feel? A snarl entered your voice in a way you’d never spoken to Steve before. “Tell that to all the little girls he hurt in the Red Room.”

A heavy silence followed your words. Then, “What are you talking about?”

You teleported past Steve so you could face Bucky again, so you could point your finger in his chest and make him get it. “ You should watch your back.” There was so much malice in your tone, like saliva dripping from the maw of a snarling wolf. “Because so many of those little girls you beat and you broke are not little girls anymore. They’re highly trained and out for blood and they don’t care if you’ve been absolved for the things you’ve done.”

Bucky stared at the Widow with wide eyes. 

He searched his memories.

And he came up with things he wished he could forget. He wished he could forget yet knew he could not allow himself to.

He knew she wasn’t lying. Not only from his own memories, but by the anger — the pain in her voice.

Little girls.

Something was very very broken inside him.

You felt Steve grab your arm and rip your attention back to him.

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a warning,” you growled. “You’re lucky I made a promise not to kill anymore. Or I would have put him down myself.” And then, because you knew Matt wouldn’t understand, you added, “[Maybe I still will.]”

“I’m sorry.”

You slowly looked back to Bucky. He looked. . .

The Winter Soldier never showed any emotion. 

But Bucky, he looked. . .

His eyes. . . 

(Sad. Guilty. Broken.)

(His eyes had tears in them.)

A symphony of cognitive dissonance rang through your head but you refused, you refused to feel . . . to feel . . . anything, any sympathy or empathy or . . . or . . . No. There was too much fear and pain and anger — He had hurt you, and when you looked at him all you could see was everything the Red Room had done to you, everything that— All of it— And one little apology wasn’t going to—

You could still feel the bruises. Still taste the metal. No. No. “Tell it to your God. You won’t find any forgiveness here.”

You turned and walked away, walked down the hallway and through the next door, and you could feel Matt on your heels but you just kept walking, until you were out of sight and out of mind of the Avengers and him.

Why did the Avengers blindly trust him? Call him friend? Let him go on missions with them? Why wasn’t he punished for what he did? Why did Steve protect him? Wasn’t he good? Wasn’t he kind and pure and a better man than you believed even existed— Why was he doing this? Didn’t he care? About you, about anyone else that the Winter Soldier had hurt?

IT WASN’T FAIR

COULDN’T THEY SEE IT?

HOW COULD THEY LOOK PAST ALL OF IT?

LIKE IT DIDN’T MATTER?

LIKE NONE OF IT—

ANY OF IT—

ALL THAT YOU—

EVERYTHING THAT YOU—

THE PAIN AND THE BLOOD AND EVERYTHING ELSE—

HOW COULD THEY JUST PRETEND LIKE NONE OF IT MATTERED

HOW COULD THEY

HOW COULD THEY?!

You screamed and slammed your fist into the wall, all your frustration and anger oozing out of everything and turning the world red and you just needed to hurt something—

But that something was only you as the contact spiked sharp pain through your hand. You hissed and took it back, cradling it as you leaned against the wall and breathed.

And breathed.

Matt stood by, waiting. He knew Y/N was an explosive pyre right now, he knew because he’d felt it for himself too many times before. He’d give her a moment if she needed it. And he’d step in once she needed him, too.

But she didn’t ask him for comfort. “Go home.” Matt recognized the post-anger coldness in her voice. Had used that tone himself. “I have to go back as the civilian or they’ll wonder where I am.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea right now?”

“If I don’t go back now, then—”

“Why go back at all?” Matt interrupted her, incredulous. He didn’t bother masking his frustration with her this time. He needed answers and she was just going to have to take it. “Why are you doing this? You’re not doing it to kill Bucky Barnes anymore, and I don’t believe that you’re doing it just because you’re bored.”

You knew Matt was getting at something that you hadn’t quite reconciled with even yourself yet. 

You were tired.

“I don’t have an answer for you right now. I have to go. I’ll see you later.”

You didn’t give Matt a chance to respond to you as you disappeared. Got yourself dressed back up. Headed back to that hallway. 

You didn’t bother to mask the tears or the vacant expression on your face as you found your way back to the Avengers. 

Steve rushed to you when he spotted you. He checked you over for injuries, then brought you into his arms.

And as you stared over his shoulder, your empty look was reflected in Bucky’s eyes.

When Matt didn’t hear from Y/N after the mission, he left her a voicemail inviting her to go out with him and Foggy and Karen after work the next night. He worried about her throughout the work day, and was just finishing at his desk when Y/N finally showed.

He felt relief for a moment, but confusion the next — His head tilted as he took in her attire. She seemed somewhat overdressed for going to Josie’s with friends.

“I appreciate the invite, Murdock, but I’m gonna have to rain-check you,” Y/N said, with a sort of forced casualness. “I’ve got a date with the Captain.”

Frustration flared within him. “Are you kidding me right now?”

Matt sensed Karen and Foggy exchange looks. “We’re gonna wait outside,” Foggy said, and the two headed out.

Y/N crossed her arms. “I never kid about going on dates with hot people.”

“Yesterday you were in an argument with him.” He couldn’t believe she was going on a date with him only a day after she’d yelled at him, her heart beating loudly in her chest, tears running down her face, the anger practically spilling out of every part of her. Going on a date with him like it never even happened.

“No, the Wolf of Hell’s Kitchen was in an argument with him. You should understand, you practically invented compartmentalization.”

Matt stood from his desk to walk over to her. To speak to her face-to-face and give her a reality check. 

It was concern that was at the forefront, but . . . there was also . . . an anger there, sitting on Matt’s chest. Something he didn’t want to acknowledge. It was ugly. Unfair.

Possessive.

So he ignored it, refused to reflect on it, and continued with what really mattered. “His best friend is the man who hurt you. Who you were planning on killing. Tell me how this makes sense.”

You felt yourself getting worked up again. You knew coming here that Matt wouldn’t approve but you needed him to understand. Needed him to look at it from your perspective. “He’s good, Matt,” you said. “Like genuinely good and kind. And safe. Do you know how rare that is? Do you know how many men out there are like that? They aren’t.” You took a breath, the anger starting to spill out again. You needed him to understand. You needed someone to understand. So you would give him an example. “Do you know who it is that we fought last night? I knew him. We used to run missions for the Red Room together. I used to watch him torture people. Strip skin off their bodies. And still I thought I could trust him. Hell, I let him fuck me — I didn’t have a lot of choices in the Red Room but that one was mine. I thought I was in love with him. I wanted to run away with him. I asked him to. And do you know what he did? He turned me in to the Red Room as soon as the mission was over. ‘Cause he was a fucking KGB agent and I was an idiot for trusting him. And after everything—”

Here your voice broke. Here the emotion, the everything that was not anger, creeped in and you could not stop it. Could not stop your eidetic memory from bringing everything to the forefront.

The red room.

“After all that I—” you tried again, but your voice cut out. Your breath came out as unstable as your mind, and you scrambled to shove the pieces of yourself back together in something that at least resembled a person. “I just need this one thing. This one thing in my life that is unstained with blood. And maybe even I don’t get it.” A small laugh left your mouth, though none of this was funny. “Maybe even I don’t know why I’m doing this.” 

That was the real confession. Did you even know what you were doing with your life now? Did you even know how to live a real life after the Red Room? Maybe not. Maybe you were trying. Maybe you were doing a bad job of it.

You were just trying to keep yourself alive.

“But I know that I like him,” you continued. “He’s nice.” The word hurt. It hurt because so much of your life had not been synonymous with it. “Maybe that’s just what I need right now.”

It felt empty to hear. Every time a reminder of what Y/N had been through came up, it brought such a hollowness to Matt’s chest.

No wonder she’d almost killed Smith that night. Matt would have put him in a coma himself if he knew. Would have broken all 206 bones in his body, one by one. Would have brought him closer to death than any other lowlife he’d ever beaten. Within an inch of his life was too good for him — He’d give him half an inch. A quarter. An eighth. For hurting Y/N, he’d make suffering an art.

And now Smith had Y/N believing that Steve was her only chance at a safe relationship. Not a good relationship, not a healthy or satisfying relationship, but a safe one. The goddamn bare fucking minimum.

And although Matt still thought that all of this was a terrible idea, that dating Steve was going to end badly when he didn’t know the real Y/N and she once planned to kill his best friend and his best friend was someone who would always be around and someone who hurt Y/N and who she hated in ways that were irreconcilable with Steve’s own feelings— Despite all of that, Matt could understand her wanting . . . some peace. Wanting someone she knew wasn’t going to hurt her. Wanting someone that maybe she could one day trust.

And although Matt didn’t think it was a good idea, he also knew that Y/N was healing from unspeakable acts of violence. Healing from so many horrible things that even he didn’t know about. 

And there were much, much worse ways she could cope than dating Captain America.

Hands on his hips, Matt finally sighed, long and slow. “Okay.”

You couldn’t stifle the small gasping sob that left your mouth. You wished you didn’t have to be sober for this. You hated feeling like this — like everything was so open and raw. Like you were one flash of traumatic memory away from crying at any moment.

You harshly rubbed the tears from your eyes and your face and regretted it the next second. “I know you can’t see it, but you ruined my makeup.” You tried to make your tone light, but your voice just sounded sad. “I can’t be late. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Matt’s jaw worked, but he didn’t say anything else other than, “Yeah.”

It twinged something hurtful in you. That part of you that cared too damn much about what Matt thought. “We’re okay, right?”

Matt’s hands left his hips and his expression softened.

She thought he was mad at her.

Maybe he was, a little. Mad, that is, but not at her, not really. He was just . . . frustrated. Because he was concerned. 

(Still he refused to acknowledge the ugly feeling sitting on his chest.

Refused to acknowledge why it was there.

And why it was making him feel so. . .

Angry. In a different kind of way.)

But hearing her ask if they were okay, like she didn’t know the answer. . . With all that she’d been through . . . maybe he needed to stow the anger for once. 

This was not about him.

“Yeah,” he replied, in a gentler tone than before. “We’re okay.”

Your eyes caught on the red bruise on his cheekbone, just under his glasses. You thought of how you asked for his help and he gave it without hesitation.

Without thinking, you reached up and touched his face, gently running your fingers over the bruise on his cheek. 

“Thank you for being there,” you said, your voice a little bit quieter than it was before.

His own hand reached out and cupped your face, his thumb catching a stray tear as it brushed over your cheek. “Of course.” 

When was the last time someone had brushed your tears away for you? You couldn’t remember.

Oh, but it was him, wasn’t it? Matt, a lifetime ago.

And now, here he was, a lifetime and too many horrors to count later. Still his hand wiping away your tears. Lingering longer than necessary. Thumb stroking over your cheek a second time.

Again, you were struck by the sensation that touch was different now that you were sober. Or maybe it was just that it had been too long since you were held gently. Carefully. By someone who didn’t want to break you.

Someone who doesn’t want to break you is waiting for you right now.

You slowly lowered your hand and Matt followed suit. “I have to—”

“Yeah.”

You fought through the strange discomfort you were suddenly feeling and asked, “You’re still going to be my date to Tony’s party, right?”

He gave you a small smile. “I did promise. And you held up your end of the deal.”

Right. Being sober. That deal felt like a thousand years ago, now. You’d almost forgotten that’s why you decided to do this. Get sober. Be sober.

Suffer through it to get . . . I don’t know. Better? Is it better?

Then Matt added, “I’m proud of you for not taking that drink.”

You closed your eyes. You could still see the glass of wine in front of you, the clear excuse you had to drink it. “I wanted to,” you said quietly.

“I know,” he said quietly back.

When you opened your eyes again, you didn’t see him but rather all that you had still not told him. All that he could not understand because you had not told him. And you felt the wall rising between you and him and you’d pulled so many of them down for him already but this one, this wall, you didn’t have the strength to take apart yet. 

There were too many handprints on the inside.

Matt knew she was wrestling with something. The ends to the sentences she could not finish. 

And after everything— 

After all that I—

He wanted to know. He wanted to know everything but he knew that she needed time. Time to sort through fifteen years of horrors he couldn’t even imagine.

Finally, she said, “So I’ll see you at Josie’s tomorrow?”

He gave her a gentle smile, even though he could feel the tightness in it. There was still so much left unsaid. Still so much about this whole situation with Steve Rogers and the Avengers that he disapproved of. And he didn’t know how to make her see that it would end messy. That she would hurt more than it was worth. “I’ll kick your ass in pool.”

And he could hear the hollowness in her voice as she replied, “You wish.”

Your date with Steve was fine. If he noticed you were in a mood, he didn’t say anything about it. After all, you'd just been through an ordeal on the mission; not being at 100% made sense from his perspective.

After, you went to your apartment, and you called Karen to come over.

For once, you just wanted to talk to someone other than Matt. Your argument with him had ended and you’d assured that things were okay between you two, but there was still so much . . . anger there. Anger you didn’t know what to do with. Matt was your best friend, your family — but you could tell he wasn’t getting it. And you didn’t know how to make him get it without. . .

Telling him everything. Everything he didn’t know about the Red Room. 

You just weren’t ready.

You weren’t ready for him to know that part yet.

When Karen showed up, you invited her in and sat on the bed of your studio apartment with a groan.

“Matt and I had an argument.”

She sat down next to you with a look that said she figured. “Mm. That’s why he’s been grumpy.”

Looks like you weren’t the only one who did a bad job at burying the anger. “He doesn’t like that I’m dating Steve Rogers.”

She hummed and said nothing more, like she was waiting for you to explain. 

“He thinks it’s a bad idea,” you continued, “because of the whole, y’know, lying to the Avengers about my entire identity thing, but— He just . . . he doesn’t understand. Steve is the first real good guy that I have ever met. That just doesn’t happen. It’s like a miracle, y’know?” You paused, taking a breath. “There was a guy we dealt with yesterday. Me and Matt. He was from my past. A . . . well, for lack of a better term, ex . He was a KGB agent.” Karen’s eyes grew wide, but she said nothing. “Which about sums up my dating history. And it ended. . .” 

You could still feel the high pressure, ice cold water pounding at your bare body, the torture you endured for attempting to defect.

“It ended,” you finished, letting Karen fill in the gaps for herself. “I can’t let myself trust someone like that again. I need Matt to understand that, I need—” You rubbed your eyes, feeling very very tired all of the sudden. “I need a fucking drink. I need a fucking Percocet.”

There was silence for what felt like a long time.

“Y’know, I had this boyfriend when I was nineteen.”

You took your hands from your face and looked at Karen when she spoke.

“I was in a really shitty place in my life,” she continued. “My mom was gone and the only thing we had left of her was this crappy diner that was going belly-up in a dead-end town that I couldn’t leave because it meant leaving her behind. So I was . . . making a lot of bad decisions back then. The guy I dated was a coke-dealer. My life then felt so fucking unlivable but when I was high, or when I was drunk, it was bearable.”

You didn’t just understand — you’d lived it for yourself.

She went on, “I was so far gone. And I was so angry. I was okay with destroying pieces of myself but I didn’t realize the way it was hurting the people around me. My brother. . .” her voice caught in her throat, like the emotion was finally catching up with her, but she pushed forward, “. . .he tried to help me. Tried to get me to stop with the drug dealing and the shitty boyfriend and so he burned the shitty boyfriend’s trailer and the shitty boyfriend tried to kill him. But it wasn’t the shitty boyfriend who killed him. It was me. Because I was driving drunk and coked out of my mind and I crashed the car with both of us in it.”

She took a moment and you let her, let her have all the silence she needed. All the time in the world. 

“I stopped with the drugs after that. Tried not to drink as much. Because I can’t ever take it back.” She scrubbed a stray tear from her cheek. “But shit. Sometimes I just want to go back. To being numb. To spending hours where I don’t have to think about . . . all of it.” She turned and looked at you. Really looked at you. “So I get it. I really get it.”

You held her eyes, knowing too goddamn intimately exactly what she was talking about. “I’m really sorry, Karen.”

She took a breath and wiped her nose. Then said, “But I also think there’s such a thing as over-correcting. Being too careful. I get wanting to go for the good guy. Hell, I think part of the reason I liked Matt was because he was good. He was a lawyer. He defended people who needed help. Maybe the blind thing made him seem harmless — that’s probably a bad thing to say, but. . . But I was wrong. I mean, Matt is good, but . . . it was complicated between us. He wasn’t exactly the person I thought he was, and— Ugh.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “This is not the point I’m trying to make. I’m not trying to say that all men are secretly bad, though I get feeling that way. What I’m trying to say is . . . maybe knowing that someone isn’t going to hurt you isn’t the only thing you want out of a relationship.”

You were quiet, letting her words sink in.

You could make it more than that.

If Steve Rogers was your only shot, your only shot to be with someone who believed you were good and kind and harmless, to be with someone safe, then you could make it more than that. You could make it work.

So instead you simply said, “You’re a good friend, Karen.”

She gave you a smile. Even dimmed, it was radiant as always. You took a moment to study her face, her eyes, her beautiful strawberry-blonde hair.

“. . .Are you sure you’re straight?”

The question seemed to catch her off guard and she laughed through her nose. “Unfortunately, yes.”

You laid back on the bed with a dramatic sigh. “This would be so much easier if you weren’t straight.”

Karen laughed again. “Why? Because you’d date me instead?”

“Yes, obviously.”

She breathed another light laugh through her nose and shook her head. There was silence for a moment, and you watched some gears turning behind Karen’s eyes. “Do you think that maybe Matt doesn’t want you dating Steve because he. . .” 

You lifted your body to rest on your elbows, raising your eyebrows at her and waiting for her to finish her sentence.

But she bailed on whatever she was going to say and shook her head instead. “Never mind.”

You sat up fully. “Because he what?”

Because maybe he’s jealous, was what Karen wanted to say. Because you two smile at each other like there’s no one else. Because it’s so painfully obvious even though clearly you two haven’t figured it out yet.

But she knew she couldn’t say that. It wasn’t her place to interfere in their relationship.

So instead, she landed on, “I just think Matt is worried about you.”

Y/N sighed, fortunately buying it. She rubbed her eyes. “Yeah. I know.” After a moment, she raised her head again. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

Karen smiled at her and nodded. “Yes, I would like that.”

Tag List: @stupidiout100 @coff3e-and-biscuits @caswinchester2000 @waywardsister1111 @ummvengers @asongofmarvelanddc @1971marauders @krazy-katt-lady @flowercrowns3438 @takethee @lov3vivian @burn-crash-rqmance @readers-posts @badbishsblog

[twig-tea]

TWIG! Friend! I couldn't help but notice your tags in my excitement post about getting to La Pluie -- I see that you and I are YYY mutuals. :) Let's call YYY... say... zany or offbeat -- off the beaten path of the usual romance-dominated field of Thai BLs. What are some other "zanier" BLs (not just Thailand, but everywhere in Asia) that you love and would recommend for an off-the-wall experience? And, why?

@waitmyturtles I'm so sorry you sent this a million years ago and then I kept letting it languish. And it's extra rude because I love this question! It's so hard to add something like YYY to a rec list without a billion caveats, so this is a great chance to shout out some of the series & shorts that don't get as much attention. A few of these I know you've seen but I have to include them for completeness.

First, for the sake of other people reading this, as Turtles has written about, Cheewin brings his own kind of zaniness to almost everything he works on; my faves of his other than YYY are Make It Right and Secret Crush on You (the exception is Bed Friend, which is not in any way zany but I still liked it).

Also going to mention that since Turtles asked for off the beaten path zany, I won't be mentioning any of the popular comedies (in case you're wondering why I Became the Lead in A BL Drama or Man Who Defies the World of BL aren't on this list).

Alright now that's out of the way, let's get into the other recs!

Zany lesser-known BLs other than YYY

Ossan's Love Franchise (Japanese, 2016-2024, GagaOOLala)

It is... less true now that this series is lesser-known than it was when I started writing this draft (in uh... August 2023) but I shall persist! The franchise details alone for this series are complete crack:

A 2016 45-minute short [skippable imo];

The 2018 original series which builds the short into a zany 7-episode comedy series about a man in his late 20s who suddenly finds himself the love interest of his older boss (in his ~50s) and his coworker/roommate (in his mid-20s);

The sequel film Ossan's Love: Love or Dead (2019)which turns into an action film halfway through for no clear reason but also remains a romantic comedy in which the mains from the original season decide if they want to stay together

The AU season Ossan's Love: In the Sky (2019) which has the same characters of the lead and his boss from S1 and the short, but this time they work in an airport and all of the surrounding cast is different and leads to a very confusing love rhombus. Incredible 10/10 no notes [people hate this because they like the mains from S1 & the film but I loved the mess]

The sequel season to S1 and the film, Ossan's Love Returns (2024) which you can absolutely watch in isolation and is about the main couple re-establishing their relationship and their found family friend group after being long distance for a few years.

It's truly excellent comedy, and gets better every outing; there are some barriers that might prevent some enjoying the earlier seasons but the most recent one is really delightful. You can hear me talk more about this series with @bengiyo and @shortpplfedup on The Conversation podcast!

Diary of Tootsies (Thai, 2017, grey/Netflix (for the movie))

I love Diary of Tootsies and the follow-ups so much. SO much. One of the best laughs of my life was the opening to the movie, and I cannot be in a long car ride without thinking about the purse incident in s1. This show doesn't get a lot of BL fandom attention because the romance arcs are not typical for BL (but that's one of the things I love about them). And the friendship in this series is truly what sells it. Season 1 is self-contained, a lot of people dislike the romance plot of S2; I really like the arc across s2 to the movie (as established above, I tend to be less invested in a particular ship across a franchise or multiple franchises). The movie plot is all about reconciling who you thought you wanted and who you are with (amongst all kinds of shenanigans).

HeHe and He (Hong Kong, 2018-ongoing, YouTube)

This mockumentary sitcom-style series does tackle some serious topics and is also absolutely hilarious nonsense across its 3 seasons. The very simple premise is that a gay guy ("hehe" is slang for gay) and a straight guy who are old friends become roommates when the gay friend breaks up with his longterm boyfriend and needs a place to stay, and hijinks ensue. They do direct-to-camera confessionals spliced in with scenes from their lives. I love this show so much, and it would actually be high up in my indie BL rankings if it were completed. I lose it at least once an episode. It's very queer (if you want a show that tackles everything from hookups to turning everything into a joke to being so, so mean to each other while also loving each other dearly to even chemsex, look no further), and I am in love with all of the wacky characters that have formed a love-hate found family that is deeply relatable. The creators posted a video a few months ago saying they're struggling to end it in a way that they're happy with so I'm not sure we'll ever get an ending for the show. But if you like comedy and queer content it's worth a watch even incomplete! I've been very patiently following this project since 2018 and it's legitimately one of my favourite shows.

Rainbow Prince the Series (Filippino, 2022, YouTube)

This is a musical; it is a lot of campy nonsense. There is royalty, political intrigue, a dog, kidnappings, and so. much. singing. The songs are surprisingly catchy and it's all extremely good fun. Also a lot of the dialogue is very clearly improvised.

Hey! First Love (Vietnamese, 2019, YouTube)

This series of shorts are mostly just silly fluff. The very tenuous plot is that these shorts are slice-of-life moments from a young established couple, but it's all really just excuses for Vietnamese comedy and BL romance tropes. If you haven't watched anything from Vietnam, this is a very low-stakes commitment (I think it's under 30 minutes of content all told; there are 4 "episodes" which are spliced together shorts, each of which has a tiny plot but there is not much of an overarching narrative, and then a Q&A with the actors at the end) and gives you a sense of the Vietnamese sense of humour. Both of these actors have gone on to continue to be in other Vietnamese BLs, so if you have watched Vietnamese BL you may recognize them! The production quality on this is charmingly low.

Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (India, 2019, Amazon Prime)

This film was such a joy to experience in a live theatre. Billed "the first Gay Bollywood RomCom", this movie was a riot of chaos, dance numbers, shenanigans, hilarity, and cuteness. I loved the way this film incorporated the very real legal change to decriminalize homosexuality in its story. Arguably not "BL" as it very much fits in the bollywood tradition not the BL tradition, but OP did ask for all of Asia!

Like Love (China, 2014-15, grey)

And no I don't mean censored--this is from before China started censoring its BLs. This show has kisses as shown in the gif, and even (poorly cropped) sex scenes. It also is super bizarre. I was so confused by this show, the characterization, the fourth wall breaks, and how disjointed it was so I went to read the source material and...it turns out it's one of the most perfect adaptations I've ever seen, the book is in fact exactly like this. The characters are caricatures, there is no bridging between scenes, and the plot is the most absurd take on 'loserfail no-thoughts-head-empty character who doesn't admit he's gay but still ends up in a dedicated and loving relationship with a rich handsome domineering man ' I've ever seen. It's a bewildering experience. Note the sound quality on this one is suuuper miserable. I like s2 way more than s1 (s1 is getting together and includes a lot of the bullying-teasing and I'm-not-gay-I-just-need-him-to-pay-attention-to-me stuff, s2 is the honeymoon phase + getting the homophobic parents on board) but S1 is definitely the zanier of the two. That being said, if you wanted, I think you can dive right in to s2 (there's a direct-to-camera explanation of what happened in s1 at the start of it). Note that they set up a cliffhanger at the end of 2 in anticipation of s3 which was going to be made in 2016 but was cancelled because of the political changes in China in 2016 (this is one of the reasons I went to read the source material; they do get a happy ending in the books).

This is an extremely silly but also touching franchise with a lot of tropes I don't love, but also a lot of things I do (and just neat to see some stuff so early in BL: Underwater kiss? Helicopter ride? Femme fatale becomes friend of the faen? Supportive grandparent? It's all here). There are some fantastic speeches in s2 about supporting your gay children; I liked how in this the kids didn't give up on their parents but try to reconcile their filial piety with their dedication to each other. If you do watch S1, highly recommended you watch the series version rather than the film. For "S2"/the follow-up film, make sure you look for the uncensored film version.

The Lover Room 709 Cut (Korean/Japanese, 2016, grey)

This starts extremely silly, plays with BL tropes, and gets a little bit serious at the end but is mostly just full of puns and innuendos. Includes one of the most hilarious takes on kabedon, and egregious use of the soundtrack from Brokeback Mountain. Also: fart jokes. Folks worried it was going to stay teasing the audience but it does commit and we do get an actual resolution that is satisfying. I admit I've never seen the whole series (which includes stories of 3 other couples in the apartment building) but the BL cut is readily available if you search. Make sure you look for the deleted scene with the lotion application--this scene walked so IFYLITA could run (I'm kidding, but it's very funny seeing this scene now and thinking about that one).

The Boy Next Door (Korean, 2018, YouTube)

This is another older series playing with censorship (similar to The Lover) in which the two characters end up in BL romance tropes but are not actually in love...or are they? The shenanigans are very fun. This one is left more ambiguous than The Lover, which is one of the reasons it's further down the list.

Go! Go! G-Boys (Taiwan, 2006, grey)

I debated between this and another quirky comedy from Taiwan in the early 2000s, Formula 17, but while that's unequivocally a better movie, this one is lesser known and more zany, so it technically better fits the bill for this ask (but if you haven't, go watch Formula 17!). The plot is a bit cringe--straight boy signs up to gay beauty contest to pay off his girlfriend's debts (accompanied by his gay childhood friend who is in love with him) and finds his truth. Meanwhile a homophobic police officer has also infiltrated the contest for investigative purposes. Amongst all that admittedly not great setup, however, are several bizarre sequences including the incredible Lord of the Rings recreation scene (complete with Gatchaman of course), a killer soundtrack, a random delivery of poultry, someone slapping a cake, and, most absurdly unbelievable at all: police taking harassing death threats to the gay contest seriously. It does a great job of setting up what should be a dramatic scene and then immediately undercutting the tension with something absurd. It's not narratively good, but it is a fun ride! And yes, there is a happy ending. Stick around for a fourth wall break (literally) after the credits.

Something Crunchy Crunchy (Korean, 2018, GagaOOLala)

Extremely bizarre little musical short in which snacks are anthropomorphized as hot guys and they sing songs about being eaten and wanting to be eaten. Played entirely sincerely, but the concept is screamingly funny. Fascinating. Also, kind of poly?

Dom (Korean, 2016, GagaOOLala)

Another hilarious and weird Korean short, this time in which we see the protagonist's sex life from the perspective of the condom boxes that are anthropomorphized and given personalities based on their brands.

And since we can't leave out the ladies,

A few zany GLs:

Lily Fever (Korean, 2015, YouTube)

I wrote about this one a little in my GL rec list; it is absolutely bonkers nonsense. There is not really a plot, it's a fever dream of a show. Chaos! Not so much a romance as an excuse to see cute girls flirt and make out.

Legend of Yunqian (China, 2020, grey)

I debated including this one because only the middle is really the zany part, it's sandwiched with more serious xianxia drama. But in the middle of this miniseries is an extremely cute interlude in which xianxia characters time travel to present day for ~reasons. It's censored but there is very little uncertainty about feelings, and manages to be absolutely charming. Worth the short runtime for this kitten quickcut (subbed "Whomst?!" in the show for ultimate comedy). Warning for character death (but it's ok because time travel to reincarnated character!) Subtitled by the indispensable @douqi7s [see their pinned post for links].

BetCin (Filippino, 2022, WeTV)

A lesbian couple with a YouTube following decide to break up but then find out there's a contest for couples, and they decide to pretend to still be together to try and win the contest rather than tell their fans they've broken up. This series does some really interesting things by starting with a breakup and then looking at how two people who are no longer dating manage BGP while also managing their feelings. There's a lot going on in this show, and the hijinks definitely ensue!

Perfect One Night Stand (Korean, 2020, GagaOOLala)

This is a cute Strongberry GL short in which a friend agrees to help her other friend find a girl to have sex with before the day is over; they go through several quirky candidates looking for the titular perfect one night stand.

[thewriterg]

𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing(s): Leonardo x afab!reader, Raphael x afab!reader, Donatello x afab!reader, Michelangelo x afab!reader, heretic!reader (witch and vampire), soulmate AU

summary: Fighting an army of foot clan soldiers by yourself was easy but seeing your mates and their father that you began to call your own in pain was one of the hardest things you’ve ever been through you’ve ever been through on your over three centuries of earth and you could never see your mates in pain, not ever.

word count: 10.8k+ —damn boy she’s thick— 😎🤏👴🏿

warning(s): mentions of death and suicide attempts, violence, blood, descriptions of weapons, angst, they’re all 22-20 don’t hit me with that minor bayverse turtle bs, crying, feeling a soul bond dying?, pet names, kisses, and language

A/n: —GIFs; @tkappi & @aurora-the-kunoichi— So I rewatched TMNT 2014/16 the best one beside 2012 btw 🙄 and I’m actually taking this from a draft of mine from like two years ago…

You stood surrounded by over a dozen foot soldiers in the alley just above the sewer occasionally throwing daggers and ripping flesh with your bare teeth you had no desire to drag this fight on any longer than you had to you did however feel the strong tug of your bond pulling you to protect your mates

your mates

Little over three years ago you would’ve never even thought of thinking of such you were a witch yes and you did your studies over the subject but it was brief something you couldn’t get into because you simply would not have something like that of your own

Well you could see how far that got you

At the end of 2016 and beginning of 2017 you had a very awaken feeling in your heart and stomach and the longer you tried to pull away from it the more empty you began to feel so you began to travel with no reason why and after a long five months you were in New York

The turtles didn’t have a clue what was going on in their bodies they had passed mating season and it was almost like the hibernation like symptoms they experienced in the winter because they in fact did not hibernate

From lively, upbeat, hyper, and energetic the reptiles turned into slow, easily irritable, cranky creatures. They had no motivation to train as hard as they usually did, had endless arguments snapping at each other, sleeping for more than twelve hours at a time if Splinter didn’t wake them, and despite an empty feeling in their stomach and chest they had no desire to eat

Leonardo couldn’t utter another motivational speech as he was before when his team were experiencing said dilemmas as he was the last to get hit with the dreadful feelings he could barely drag himself out of bed to use the bathroom so why would he force his brothers to train?

Raphael was snapping at anything that made a noise around him or even seemed to breathe in his direction on the regular he would occasionally bump heads with Leo but now no one was safe from the Red Clad turtles rage and he spent most of his time in his weight room pounding his fish into a worn and abused punching bag

Donatello couldn’t tell you when’s the last time the group had showered nor could he tell you when’s the last time he invented or fixed something hell he couldn’t even think of the last time he even began to touch his equipment he along with Leo often slept the longest even after Splinters attempts of getting them both up

Michelangelo who was usually the most talkative and hyper of the group had fell silent and drained he hadn’t rode his hoverboard in weeks and couldn’t even begin to try to think to pick up a spray can or pencil to draw anything he instead was up all night and asleep all day

The problem was that they were at the end of spring they were not in winter so they should have not been experiencing those said feelings

Splinter had had enough he knew his boys were strong and would eventually shake the feeling like they always did but they didn’t usually get like this until the colder times of the year and it was indeed blazing hot

When the thought crossed over his mind he denied it quickly they were animals such thing couldn’t be possible as he thought it was but as time went on it made more and more sense

Animals had mates and mating seasons yes, his son’s experienced it every year that wasn’t the issue it was the who would fulfill the roles as each of the terrapins mates that confused him the books of turtle mating didn’t cover enough ground for him to get the answers he needed so he was soon once again standing face to face to face with the bookshelf he hardly touch that taught him wisdom and the art he knew today

The mutant rat had picked up a book he had yet to read the only book he hadn’t read it had a brown leather cover and it was thick and full with unread pages he carefully dragged his pawed hands over the front carefully making sure to watch his claws

He’d read the book front to back making sure to read over each page at least twice but he was most efficiently reading over soul ties and sealing soul bonds

Soon enough weeks after he was sure Splinter had all of his sons in front of him and even though they felt this way this odd, empty, pitiful, way they all held their respective positions on their knees their three fingers pressed up against their other pair and head bowed even though they slouched as they all could hear sleep and the voidness beg their names out with a screeching voice

“I have a gift for you all, something as a serve of hope” The mutant spoke in his usual prideful, wisdom filled, tone as he began to explain the tale bits and pieces at a time until the puzzle was made up and the picture was made out in front of them

Leonardo was glad he had an explanation or even a start of why they were feeling this way he could slowly feel some of the weight on his his chest and deep within his plastron

Raphael was skeptical even though he never doubted his Sansei he raised him, never lied to him, trained him, kept him safe when he was defenseless, but he couldn’t help but be skeptical. Even if he did have a soulmate what type of being with a brain and sense of surrounding would want to be with a freak like him?

Donatello was on the middle side of the fence he had his doubts what if they were just going through an early ‘hibernation’ period? Though Donnie wasn’t as open to it as Ralph was he did have a slight fear of rejection but he also had a feeling of excitement? Maybe fuzziness and warmth at the thought of being loved unconditionally that was made for someone just for him.

Michelangelo was ecstatic he would have an angel by his side. What if they were a Jedi? What if they were looking for him too!?

“How do we find our mates!? We should look for them! I gotta find my Angel cakes!” Mikey was out of his kneeling position he was ready to do anything his chest hurt a little less and soon he would realize it wasn’t the discovery but the newly found distance that lifted the weight

“Mikey we can’t just go on a side quest to find people we don’t know” Leo intervened is brothers rambling also getting out of his position of kneeling as the other two turtles followed in suite

“That’s your problem bro it’s not a ‘side quest’ it’s the main mission” The orange clad turtle stated in a matter of fact tone with a smile on his face

“And if we actually meet these people-”

“They’re our mates not jus’ some random people if you wanna be lonely all yer life that’s on you but you can’t make decisions for us” Ralph interrupted with a gruff coolly voice the pair began to argue as Donatello sighed heavily Along with Splinter who suddenly bursted from his quietness

“Silence! Before I send you all to hashi!” The mutant rodent shouted and the room fell silence the only thing erupting from the room was Mikey slightly whining about not doing anything but the group knew that it would just about alway be a group punishment

“You need to find an efficient plan that still allows you continue your duties while finding you’re peace” Splinter spoke wisely before retreating his steps to his room to meditate

“What if we send two of us at a time to search for them while the other two stay here to patrol” Donnie spoke up it wasn’t the most effective plan but it was the best they had the purple clad turtle had finally had relief of the dreadful empty feeling he didn’t plan on going back

“That’s not a bad idea… We should all go back to patrolling for now and then after a month or so we can get everything under control and then we can carry out the plan” Leo finally spoke up after a moment of silence as everyone subconsciously nodded eventually they all went their separate ways with a bit more hope than they started with

They had their Sansei to thank for that

💌💌💌💌

As weeks passed the brothers were too caught up in protecting the city to carry out their plan the reptiles all stood around in the dojo listening to the TV as the channel nine news played filling the silence

There had been ‘animal attacks’ going on all over the city multiple pictures of punctured wounds showed up on the screen and none of the brothers were dumb enough to believe the story that was being sold the wounds were too… clean to be from an animal attack their was two punctured spots with usually a bit of bruising around them and was often found around the neck just below the jugular or on the wrist barely missing a vein

“What if there’s a vampire out there just… feeding from people” Mikey stated in awe at the thought before Ralph through one of the terrapins nunchucks at his forehead while he hissed rubbing over the sore spot

“Vampires aren’t real idiot” The red clad turtle rolled his eyes as he placed is sais in their holsters at his hips

“You don’t know that! What if they could be hiding around us in plain sight” The youngest brother dragged as the group began to move towards the tunnels

“Well the news hasn’t report anyone sparklin’ like a disco ball ‘cause they’re in sun and these bites that people are getting aren’t turning them mad so I think that answers that pretty well” The raging turtle resorted with an eye roll as Mikey sucked his teeth

“Can you both be quiet!” Leo hissed as they quickly traveled through the tunnels the last thing they need was Splinter to hear their conversation bouncing of the metal as they traveled to the surface somewhere they were indeed not supposed to be

Soon enough the group was traveling over the roof of buildings watching over the streets of New York they weren’t as busy as they usually were but they were never empty

“Please, you’re taking too much” Donatello heard it first a small voice slightly whimpering followed by Leonardo as they alerted their brothers silently landing on the next roof close to an alley

“Shut up” A women’s voice erupted from the shadows and suddenly the noise of the first voice was gone the only thing left signaling life was heavy breathing

💌💌💌💌

You hadn’t had blood from the vein since you were around 220 it had been a while 146 years to be exact but even if you happened to be angry at the world for an unknown reason you weren’t stupid leaving a trail a bodies with bite wounds wouldn’t be ideal for laying low

You could’ve gave your victims some of your blood heal them up so they no longer had a mark to show for the attack but humans were idiotic and you didn’t need a baby vamp on your hands because they had found some way to die in twenty four hours

So you settled with this

You could feel different presences around you as you finally let up on the man who you had pushed against the wall tuning in on the heartbeats around and there were four not including the blonde in front of you but they didn’t sound human

Before you could comprehend a hand was on your shoulder crushing your collar bone you quickly gripped what you could make out as a three fingered hand throwing a packing kick to the things knee before swiping under its hold the wind whispering and whooshing behind you

Leonardo slightly faltered in his stance at the attack on his knee as a figure sped around him at a inhuman speed but it in fact was a human and he could feel string of his heart tug slightly but couldn’t think on it too much as Ralph called out to him

“Alright fearless that was your way hears mine” The red clad turtle stated in a gruff voice as you finally stood still in the middle of the alley that voice… it made your ears ring you couldn’t pawn on it long as you got swept off your feet your head hitting the concrete as the light post flickered so neither opposing sides could see each others identities and before the unknown creature could lay another hand on you you had your hand in the air before swiping it right as the being crashed into the the brick wall the sounds of trash bins falling filling the empty air

“What the hell” Ralph groaned quick to get back on his feet while Mikey stood beside him helping him up and was soon going back to the battle

No matter what the team threw at the unknown woman she was back up in an instant and seemed to be healing? Leonardo was sure he felt one of his katanas graze skin on her arm but he watched as the wound quickly mended itself together at a concerning rate

Whatever they were dealing with was not human

“I told you, I called it! It is a vampire!” The youngest brother cheered after coming from checking on the stranger along with Donnie the man was slightly bleeding from his neck and was experiencing some after shock symptoms but other than that was fine

“Mikey!” The other reptiles called as the youngest rolled his eyes mumbling about getting no credit before joining the fight with his brothers

Leo and Ralph were on their knees in front of the girl clutching their heads in pain as she held her hand out towards them and Mikey couldn’t help but realize she looked… human? other than her baring fangs and the prominent purple colored veins under her eyes her skin wasn’t paper white, she didn’t wear a cloak she wore… black jeans and a leather jacket?

“Donnie!” Leo called out groaning and gasping for air the pain going through his head was like a hundred needles stabbing at his brain is this how he was going to die?

“Sorry bro wrong turtle” Michelangelo grinned taking one of Raphael’s fallen sais before throwing it into the women’s shoulder blade as she let out a hiss and the orange clad terrapin was soon too on his knees in pain

Suddenly the light post flickered on and as You saw all three of the mutant turtles in front of you your invisible assault on the brain faltered as you looked at them closely your brain screaming at you to protect them, to touch them, to heal them.

You began to take a step forward before there was a cloth forced down on your nose and mouth and your face burned as you smelled the familiar plant clouding your senses

Vervain

You felt weak as you struggled against the rough yet warm embrace that held you down the plant was one of your very few weaknesses how’d they even know? Where did they even get it? As your vision became blurry, your face stung and burned, and you’re eyelids became heavy and soon you were limp in this familiar yet foreign embrace

The turtles watched as Donatello held a black cloth to the woman’s face and how she went limp in his hold they also watched as their brother stared at the stranger with a foreign care and something else they could quite figure out

Leonardo was the first one to get on his feet as he approached the pair something simply drawing him in and Donnie fought the urge to growl at his brother to get away as he subconsciously held the body tighter It hit then hit the leader like it did his brother as his mind screamed at him

Protect mate!

protect!

protect!

protect!

“It’s her” The terrapin whispered as he reached his arm out to touch her skin Donatello took a step back a low growl in the back of his throat as started at his brother with wild eyes

“Are you tellin’ me I ‘gotta share a mate with you idiots?” Raphael’s voice was deeper than it usually was his accent a little heavier as he stared at your limp body suddenly next to his brothers with some sort of anger at your unconscious state

“Dudes tell me you feel that too” Michelangelo questioned staring down at you and they could. The bubbling sensation in their plastrons, the protective nature screaming in their head, the odd feeling of the word spinning, and that nothing else no longer mattered

“We have to take her to the lair” The red clad turtle said suddenly ignoring his brother rabid animalistic gazes as he took a step forward to to get a better look at your features the skin around your mouth, nose, and chin slowly mended together itself together at a way slower rate than it was before Leo took note standing by his brothers side

“That herb, that’s her weakness. Donnie what Is that?” The leader questioned now inspecting the black cloth in his hands it didn’t burn or hurt him like it did you

“It’s an oil I made from a plant called Vervain, it’s a strong natural sedative. I figured if we did actually come into contact with an animal than it would be easier to put them down than tackle with it” Leave it to the purple clad turtle to think of every scenario they could be in

“What the hell are you doin’? It’s burning her idiot” Raphael growled now grabbing his brother scaled wrist as he went to sit the cloth back on your face and Leonardo snatched his hand away before responding

“We need to keep her unconscious until we get to the lair. I don't know if you're aware but she's not human or did you forget how she had you on your ass?” The leader rarely swore and it made the hot head get defensive but he was unusually uneasy

His mate was the one who drank blood from civilians.

His mate was not human.

His mate was not just his mate.

“Oh and she didn't have you on your knees begging like a pussy?” The red clad terrapin sneered as the two brothers stared at each other intensely nostrils flaring

“Guys we need to get her to my lab I don't care how we do it but we need to do it quickly” Donnie nugged Leonardo and Mikey tugged on Raphaels arm pulling them away from each other and the leader went to approach the blonde haired male who sat next to a trash bin with a newfound terror in his eyes softly shaking

“Do not tell anyone what you saw tonight. If you do, we will find you.” The reptile stated darkly after making sure the man was fine to walk and had a sense of surrounding

Soon the turtles were back on top of roofs the night winds grazing their scales as they jumped from one building to another quickly keeping Donnie infront as he held your unconscious body in his arms

When the group reached the manhole they were quick to run through the tunnels with silent feet and what would've been and fifteen minute walk to get to the lair was a five minute run as landed silently in in the dojo tip toeing to keep their Sensei unaware of their presence as they safely made it into Donatello's lab

“What are we gonna do to hold ‘er? She’ll just run again if we don't have ‘er held down” Ralph stated and for once Leo agreed while Mikey stood above your unconscious figure laying on Donnies bed, you were so beautiful, nostalgic even. He felt the strongest urge to protect you, the weight in his chest was empty, he felt complete.

You couldn't get away, you couldn't leave them and they just got you.

“What if we tied her down to a chair? You know how they do in those interrogation scenes in the action movies!?” The terrapin said suddenly causing his brothers to look at him pondering

“It's a good idea but, if she can push over Ralph and Leo like she did back there than ropes would be a piece of cake” Donnie shook his head slightly meeting his older brother's eyes as Leo spoke

“Do you still have some of that oil you made?”

💌💌💌💌

You felt your mind drifting in and out of consciousness as the voices around you suddenly went silent you blinked the fuzzy feeling in your brain away as your eyes open vision blurry and you began to take you hand to rub at it to be met with a searing pain around your body if you weren't up before you were now

You roughly thrashed around you restraints Vervain laced ropes clever you had to admit you felt too weak to break out of the chair you were strapped do

“Woah trouble slow yer roll there”

“Please don't hurt yourself anymore than you have ”

“Just relax Angel cakes you're all good ”

“We're not gonna hurt you”

It was pretty ironic that this..mutant tortoise in front of promised you such thing as your flesh repeatedly burned and healed itself

“Let me go” You hissed baring your fangs as purple veins traveled underneath your eyes and your once y/e/c eyes were now replaced for pitch blackness you fought the warm feeling in your chest that was pulling you to these… things

Donatello and Michelangelo watched you in curiosity in this weak state you resemble more of a shaken scared animal then whatever being you were taking on four mutant turtles in the alley thirty minutes prior suddenly the brothers all watched as Leonardo dropped to his knees in front of you staring you dead in your pitch black eyes

The feeling of a tug was no longer there as the feeling now pushed you roughly into this unfamiliar yet certain embrace and the veins under your eyes slightly faltering before you looked away from the Leaders gaze

You were fighting it he though amusingly

He took his hand bringing it up to your face to force you to old hold his gaze ignoring the hiss that erupted from your throat instead just steadily keeping your gaze and finally his brothers took note of what he was doing and followed in his steps coming Into and eye level position with you

Your pupils dilated, the veins vanished from your eyes, and your fangs retracted as you looked at all of them taking it in as a small voice in your head injecting familiar words into your brain

protect them

hold them

heal them

It was never the same from that day but you were… whole, complete.

💌💌💌💌

You were fighting over twenty foot soldier by yourself as the boys fought underground you were simply holding these ones off quickly discarding each that couldn’t seem to get a hand on you sweeping through the grounds with a speed quicker than light

You swept your foot under a masked man making him lose his balance falling on the concrete with a sickening crunch the last small group of soldiers came sprinting towards you and you fought the urge to roll your eyes

You held your hand out as they dropped to their knees some screaming in pain as others groaned and whimpered you held your hand there for a second before turning your wrist quickly as quaking cracks erupted the air around you as bodies fell to the floor limp

You turned on the heel of your boot as you went to open the manhole to the sewer two colossal vans surround both exits of the alley releasing large herds of assassins and soldiers yelling out random codes if Mikey or Raph were here they would squish or poke your cheeks because you ‘looked mean’

Not because you were a vampire over 300 years old and a menace to society

“Any last words freak?” One of the most formal dressed soldiers called out to you surrounded by a dozen more the whole herd pointed their assault rifles at you the red beams bouncing of your clothes you figured he was Lieutenant a weak one but a lieutenant nonetheless

“I do actually” You stated simply and you could see it took some of them back while you held your hands up in the air as a surrender as they waited for you to speak

💌💌💌💌

Raphael pulled himself and April through the crushed rocks and debris that had collapsed from the ceiling as they began to approach the end of the makeshift tunnel an ear piercing scream shook the gravel under their feet the red clad turtle smiled slightly before continuing his path as the brunette shakily stood in her spot

“Shouldn’t someone go help her” She questioned with a concerned look on her face as Ralph turned to look at her smirking before shaking his head before beginning to pull them the rest of the way out

“That’s a battle scream princess you know that out of anyone, nothing worried about” The terrapin knew if you were next to him you would definitely probably kick his ass for calling someone else one of your pet names but how he loves how you glared

April slightly shuttered at the thought to put it in a short term you didn’t get off on the right foot, you hated her when you first met to put it in the most appropriate words she could

💌💌💌💌

You fled around buildings at a inhuman speed looking for the four brothers you went down to the lair and hadn’t found them there Splinter how ever was wide awake and was the face you were met with when you hopped down from the tunnel so now here you were speeding from rooftop to rooftop trying to find the terrapins

“That guys gonna be drinking out of a sippy cup for months!” You listened closely around a mile away you could hear Donatellos voice tracking through the air over the voices, cars, and overall noise of New York

Inhuman speed and hearing just another benefit

“That’s what I’m talking about brother, shadows in the night completely unseen” Was the last statement you heard before a camera flash fluttered across the roof maybe catching your frame in the corner

You didn’t wait before in a blink in an eye you were in front of the girl taking her by the collar of her jacket railing over the roof dropping her onto the hard ground

“You think it’s okay to take pictures of people because they look different from you little girl?” You questioned as the brunette shook slightly in terror watching as your pupils dilated eyes turning pitch black while veins crawled actively underneath your eyes

“花/Hana” Leonardo tried softly sitting a three fingered hand on your shoulder as you snapped around to look at him giving him a soft hiss standing up to your full height from crouching over the girl which didn’t look like much compared to the over six foot turtle (flower)

“You said no more secret patrolling” You stated darkly walking towards the turtle with a slight threat in your step as he backed away the brothers winced they knew they weren’t safe either

“I kno-” The blue clad turtle began

“You all said if you patrolled again you would tell me first” You hissed again jabbing your finger into the leaders plastron as he chuckled nervously

“Listen trouble, we didn’t mean for it to happen like this were sorr-” You were in front of the red masked turtle with a blink of an eye April watched as you practically teleported in front of the turtle with a speed she couldn’t quite comprehend as a human

“Are you sorry because you did it or sorry because you got caught?” The brunette had a slight fear for the turtle beings you all knew each other no doubt as she watched the most buff turtle nervously laugh under your rough gaze

Raphael didn’t have time to respond as you were back in front of her dragging her to her feet and she could see the peak of your fangs as you spoke

“You are going to leave, and you aren’t going to tell anyone what you saw tonight. If you do I will find you” You were back in front of her now looking her directly in her eye’s pupils dilating as April let the feeling of her body take over she didn't have a say a foot forced one in front of another as she came back down the latter she came from beginning to walk the streets of New York

“Did you have to compel her?” Was the last thing the brunette heard as she began to walk home

💌💌💌💌

The pair made it out the tunnel as Raphael told the woman to stay put as she hid in Donatello's lab peeking from behind the door watching as the red clad turtle run off to go help his brothers

Leonardo attempted to go assist Splinter but he was soon stopped in his tracks as a small group of foot soldiers tased his scaley body as he spoke in soft groans falling to the floor at the harsh electrical impact shouting for his brother

“Hang on Leo, I'll be right there!” Donatello wanted to help his brother in the moment her really, trull did but it was a bit difficult when he was swinging his Bo-staff blocking bullets from assaulting his body as at least four different foot soldiers shot at him Raphael finally emerged from the shadows taking two of the men dressed in all black knocking their heads together holding out a hand for his brother

April watched as Shredder began gaining gaining the upper hand on Splinter throwing the rat on top of the dojos platform slowly strolling towards him steel claws slicing through the thick air that fell over the lair

Adrenaline pumping through the news reporters veins as she gripped and pulled on the handle on one Raph's sais that had gotten stuck in a wired basket before sprinting towards the armored bot like man stabbing him in the control system on his back as it sparked from the impact he turned around quickly

“You stupid little girl” The deep robot like voice degraded taking a threatening step towards the girl

“April!” Splinter called out quick to get back on his feet wrapping his long tail around the brunettes frame throwing her out of the dojo into safety as she landed with a whimper at the newfound pain in her ribs and forearm stumbling behind Donatello's steel desk out of the open

“Sensai!” Leonardo shouted sprinting towards his father as the rat landed near a concrete bared gate with a thud

“No, my sons stay back!” The mutant rat crawled to the small lever on the wall dropping the gate the terrapin began hitting his katanas against the bars watching as his father figure got dragged away by a metal fist before he scrambled loose limping back toward the gate

“NO,”

“Save yourselves!” He croaked

“Sensai, Dad! Dad! What are you doing!?” The blue clad turtle cried out

“Hide!”

💌💌💌💌

You watched as the turtles struggled to get the bar gate open from blocking the dojo you rushed over quickly holding your hand out raising it with a strain as the makeshift door slid open

They all looked back at you and could’ve sighed in relief they knew you could hold your on but as your mates they were always worried

The group of terrapins rushed in as their father was held in front of them shoulders slumped breathing shallow and irregular the only sign of life was pleading look in his eyes for them to run, to get away from here

“Drop you weapons or your… father dies” The gruff robotic like voice spoke into the air pausing in a moment of disgust as foot soldiers surrounded them

Just as the turtles were about to abandon their arms of defense a voice spoke out into the open

“You let them all go, or I’ll kill myself.” You stood above the railing looking down on the Dojo as the attention shifted towards you including shredder as his head turned with a metal shriek

“Y/n!”

“What the hell are you doin’!”

“Please!”

“No!”

To put together your statement you had a piece of wood from a broken leg chair directed in front of your heart and as you stepped forward a little into the light Donatello noticed the blood continuously seeping through your clothes

Why the fuck weren’t you healing?

“We both know what I am, that’s why some of your men have wooden bullets?” You questioned even though it was more of a statement and the terrapin’s stomachs dropped with nausea

you could only be killed with wood piercing you heart if one of the soldiers had just a few extra seconds then…

“We also know that I’m stronger than anyone in here so… you can get the turtles with me hunting you down, and not stopping until I’m tearing you apart or you can leave them and take me on your side” You couldn’t meet your mates gaze it would tear you apart so instead you looked dead into the black shield where the man’s eyes were supposed to be

Shredder dropped Splinter from his cold grasp and the turtles immediately began to protest as Raphael was quick to step forward two foot soldiers were quick to turn on their tasing wands with a threatening crack

Shredder suddenly jumped onto the platform above landing in front of you with as the ground trembled beneath you dressed in all silver armor he stared down at you and you made sure to hold his gaze as he held up his cold hand up to you face as his knives rested under your chin and you dropped the makeshift stake from your hands

“Turn it off, no further harm will come to them” He stated gruffly almost as if he was trying to comfort you he had done his research on your kind it was difficult and took years of critique but he’d mastered how to build up and break down your species you knew what he wanted Shredder didn’t have many things but he did have his word

“So, Turn it off.” He repeated

“No! 花/Hana” Leonardo struggled against the grip of four foot soldiers as they tased his plastron and you breathed in a shaky breath closing your eyes feeling tears slip down your cheeks as memories of all you together flashed through your mind (flower)

“Fuck! Princess don’t do it!” Raphael groaned out a yell on his hands and knees his figure jerking as shock waves spread through his body

“Please dove!” Donatello deeply whimpered probably getting the worst of it all as he shook at the taser on his shoulder a little too close to his neck

You opened your eyes and the assault on the turtles ended your expression was lifeless, like a never ending void that went on and on, that you couldn’t get out of.

“No” Michelangelo whispered breathlessly you were without your emotions, without a humanity.

You jumped from the platform into the main room of the lair taking a few steps forward before swiping your hand to the right in front of your body making foot soldier go flying some landing with sickening cracks as you went to stand in front of the turtles

“If you get in my way, I’ll kill you all myself” Leonardo watched as something lit in your eyes before it quickly died down to a nothingness

Shredder watch you with a slight… curiosity he wouldn’t allow you to kill terrapins that was simply against your deal but your emotionless state amused him

“Take care of your master” He stated gruffly and you held onto the silver armor before you were gone zipping through the lair and suddenly there was no trace of you Shredder included

“Fuck!” Raphael screamed into the empty air throwing the closest thing next to him which was a wired basket and hit the wall bending the metal

“Sensai, dad” Leonardo along with Donatello crawled over to the mutant rat who lied down on the floor in defeat pink tail slightly swaying against the floor with light ‘thumps’

“Please don’t do this, tell me what to do” The leader sniffled watching as his teacher, his protector in early years of life, his father seemed to crumble in his hold

“A little beating never stopped this old rat” The older mutant wheezed out while the purple clad turtle looked him over with his goggles a few cracked and bruised ribs wouldn’t be enough to put down Splinter and Leo and Donnie chuckled watery hearts still heavy

“You all need to go put a stop to the Shredders madness and rescue your mate” He stated carefully and all of the brother tuned in listening

“We can’t just leave y-”

“I’ve never informed you all of this because I was in… denial, self loathing even.” The rodent cut off the blue clad turtle and he knew that was a warning so he stayed quiet watching as he slowly raised his body to sit up

“When I was researching about the intertwining of souls I studied that the bond meant more than life itself. I was angered for a short time as your protector. It was… sore how once you found your mate that you would figure you all no longer needed me but then I was at peace knowing that a beings soul was yours to protect and vice versa. I could die tomorrow and as long as Y/n is unharmed you will all be fine and whole” The rat occasionally stopped in the middle of sentences to breathe in sharp breathes as the brothers listened closely water lines slowly filling including Raphael who stubbornly wiped it away

“What are you sitting around waiting for!? Go on now, if my daughter isn’t home by nightfall you all will be sent to the hashi!” Splinters tail threateningly swiped at their feet while Michelangelo laughed brightest out of them all as they began to run to the exit tunnel

Leonardo looked back to see April now at Splinters side as they helped each other with wounds and soon he was out of lair into the world

“Wait, I’m coming with you!” The brunette panted behind the four mutants standing in the alley

“Absolutely not it’s dangerous, and you’re hurt” The leader in blue immediately denied their mate wasn’t in a good headspace hell their mate didn’t have a sense of humanity last thing he needed was no be worried about another body to look after

“It’s a sprain light fracture at most and I have a ride it’s broad daylight how are you gonna get there without being seen?” She stated stubbornly and Ralph tried to cover a chuckle with a poorly concealed cough

“Fine. But you stay in the car”

💌💌💌💌

“Figuring the turtles will come to rescue Mrs Hamato-” Eric Sacks stood in front of you as you watched him walk through the lab going over the plan for the fourth time in a little less than an hour

“It’s Y/l/n I’ve said for the third time now stop threading on my patience Eric respect your elders or I will make a meal out of you” You we’re in front of the man in a blink of an eye hand wrapped around his throat at a bone crushing grip the man weakly nodded before you dropped him out of your hold and Shredder chuckled darkly in amusement while you went to go stand next to him

“We capture the turtles, take some of their blood. If it looks like you’re taking too much from them… I will end your life capeesh? Wonderful” You sarcastically smiled stepping out of the lab into the hallway

“If your emotions happen to get in the way of this, the deal will be off” The heavy metal softly shrieked in the quiet air as Shredder stood behind you and you sighed in annoyance

“I think what you fail to realize is when I turned off my emotions my humanity went with it I don’t feel mad or sad or anything” You briefly spoke before walking out of the man’s sight

💌💌💌💌

“Ram the gate” Raphael interrupted Verns ranting of course Aprils ride was a dweeb who talked their ear off nervously the whole car ride as the brothers began to get in position

“Ram the gate? This channel six propert-”

“I said ram the gate!” The red clad turtle yelled as the brunette man winced pressing his foot on the gas as the wood broke in piece against the van April and Vern who sat in the front seat ducked from the bullet breaking the windshield flying past their temples making a sharp turn running over some foot soldiers in the process

The turtles burst through the side of the Van Leonardo taking care of the few foot soldiers in front of him alone as the rest of them watch the terrapin flip through the air kneeling when he was done as Raphael rolled his eyes as they moved through the building

“Feeling flashy today Fearless?” The red clad turtle grunted out sarcastically settling to use his fist instead of his Sais and the leader shrugged with a small smirk on his face

“Watch he’s gonna do his Batman voice!” Mikey laughed handling his nunchucks lightly as they caused damage and destruction

“I watched that movie once!” He exclaimed as they all rushed through door they came into contact with four glass cages and the sound of heavy metal hitting the floor

“So we meet again turtles, the cages are for you” The bot stated dark jerking his arm down to reveal a claw full of knives and swords and Raph and Leo immediately took their swords from their holsters charging at the shredder and they quickly landed on the floor below

As Mikey and Donnie went to follow your whimper stop them in their tracks as they quickly looked around to finally spot you curled in a corner a stake plunged deeply into stomach as the pair ran over crouching over to your aid

“Donnie, Mikey, please.” You whimpered and their heart broke straight down the middle as you gripped onto the purple clad turtles forearm whispering something incoherent as he leaned his down to listen to you better suddenly you elbow connected to his jaw as he landed less than a few feet away from you stunned before scientist were quickly tasing him making sure he wouldn’t get up

“Jeez Angel cakes that was a low blow” Michelangelo was quick to get on his feet dodging the chair you tried to smash over his head as you quickly stood up snatching the stake out of your stomach dropping it to the side as your skin mended together healing itself

“Come on babe please don’t make me do this” The orange clad turtle pleaded as you hissed at him fangs on display, eyes pitch black, veins crawling under your eyes

“Fuck” He muttered to himself placing his nunchucks in their place on his belt ready to try to hurt you as least as possible even though he knew you could take it

Mikey along with Donnie were the fastest on the team with their more lanky and thinner figures they still however we’re not faster than you as Michelangelo tried to block a good amount of your hits until a sudden kick to his plastron had his stance faltering

You finished the fight with jerking your neck to the left as the youngest turtle slid in front of the scientist and was quickly held in the glass cage

The two weakest were out the way two more to go

You jumped down from the railing landing in front of the two blue and red brothers who had an upper hand on the Shredder they suddenly look towards you Raphael’s assault on the metal armor slightly faltering

“Miss me?” You mocked sweetly before taking a dagger from your boot throwing it to hit Leonardo’s shoulder if he had stood in place for a second longer Shredder took this as an invitation to to kick Raphael’s plastron from his position on the floor as the two were back at it

Leo had charged at you throwing you under all of his body weight he knew you easily lift him but it was a good distraction as you struggled under him before finally flipping positions as you straddled his waist throwing direct blows to his jaw

The blue clad turtle took you by your hip before flinging you off of him as you landed a few feet away you were a little slower than usual and not using your powers as much and the leader realized you were getting tired you were a heretic usually even if a vampire was witch before they transitioned they lost all of their magic but you were a siphon witch and now that you were a vampire you siphoned the energy from yourself

So it wore you out a little more when you used your magic and Leo couldn’t call the last time you had a blood bag which you had substituted from living people

“I told you to stay out of my way” You stated darkly holding a hand out as the leader dropped towards his knees groaning slightly

“Never, not while you like t-this. We’re always gonna be there for you” You through the terrapin up towards the ceiling dust and debris falling towards the ground as he landed with a harsh ‘thump’

“Shut up” You hissed swiping your hand through the air as he landed back on the floor above crashing into a cage as you stood in front of him moving your fingers to put the broken glass back in it place

“Raphael!” April screamed as she watched shrewder gain the upper hand on the hot you quickly sped to one of the now filled canisters sitting it in its brief case before you were out of the building

“Little girl” The man tainted darkly turning to look towards the brunette before Raphael stabbed his metal chest plate earning his attention back

“Focus on me” He grunted and would soon wince at the decision of words as he held onto the metal armored leg while Shredder began to slug his jaw repeatedly

“Donnie! Donnie!!” April screamed through the thick glass banging her hand against it roughly the fight or flight feeling pumping through her veins to heavily to wince at her sprained wrist as the mutant terrapin finally looked up at her glasses slowly sliding down his face

“What do I do!?” She questioned desperately as the turtle muttered something incoherent she pressed he ear to the to hear him better

“What!?”

“Adrenaline” He muttered his head slightly lolling forward as she rushed to the machines harshly tapping on the plus button for the adrenaline stimulation

Raphael struggled underneath the weighted pressure on his shell he could it creaking and cracking underneath the weight of Shredders foot as he finally fell from his knees and hands to his stomach before Vern turned away running towards April as She banged her fist against the machine

“GET UP!” She screamed anguished just beige the three turtles gasped at the air returning to their lungs Leonardo not as affected as he was last to get trapped

The turtles broke out of glass too much energy in their system to simply stand still as they flipped and ran in circles uttering and babbling nonsense

“OH I FEEL REALLY GOOD RIGHT NOW”

“DO YOU FEEL EXCITED IM SO EXCITED”

“I FEEL LIKE CLEANING, WHO WANTS TO CLEAN THE DOJO!? ILL CLEAN THE DOJO!”

“ENDORPHINS? ENDORPHINS!”

“WE HAVE TO GET RAPH!”

“RAPH!”

“RAPH!”

They turned ran into the railing causing it to cave under their weight making them fall to the next floor but they payed it no mind getting right back up helping their brother to his feet while they kept repeating the same question as he groaned to a stand

“ARE YOU OKAY!?”

“YOU ALRIGHT!?”

“YOU OKAY!?”

The terrapins explained to their brother why they had to go to the finishing each others sentences as they ran around him in circles

“Come on let’s do it for Sensai and Y/n” He stated deeply running out of the building his brothers hit on his tracks making up their on little game of ‘who can catch raphie first?’ he rolled his eyes at it but figured it would tire them out a little so he kept his legs moving

💌💌💌💌

The brothers made it on top of the building as You stood next to Shredder clicking the keys on the keyboard to initiate the toxin for release over New York

You didn’t take a second glance as Shredder turned skeins facing all four terrapins and it could’ve pulled a groan out of him

“Buy me some time… You break the deal and I’ll kill you” You stopped the armored man before continuing your journey of hacking through the systems

“cowabunga!” Michelangelo exclaimed as the turtles ran at Shredder before they were quickly kicked and put down to kiss the floor as Leonardo stood in front of him and he pulled his katanas from his back before nodding as the pair ran towards each other

Shredder slammed the leader on his shell getting a stomp on his plastron before attempting to throw a punch to his jaw the blue clad turtle dodged the hit repeatedly before blocking his face with his katana’s as the steel clacked against each other before the steel made man took him roughly by the shell throwing him off the side of the building

Donatello was next as he held his staff out and Shredder took to blades from each of his hands before putting them together to make double bladed wielding sword and the two clanked both weapons together but the purple clad turtle was soon to thrown off the building

Michelangelo was second to last trying to buy his older brother more time with his cracked shell as he swung his nunchucks freely using the the retractable blade on the side of them the stab into his armor and hop onto his back trying to weld the sharp steel back before he too was quickly thrown off the building with a speed high enough to get him whiplash

Raphael was last more of a distraction than anything as he wasn’t much of use alone parts of his cracked shell covered with duck tape he really wished you could heal him the moment and ended with the same fate as his brothers

Shredder turned back towards you walking back by your side as you set the timer for five minutes before the turtles were back on the building

Suddenly you were out of his sight with a blink of an eye but he paid it no mind as the turtles rushed at him one by one gaining enough momentum to push the armored man off the side of the building

“You know how to work this thing?” The red clad turtle stated gruffly as Donnie set his eyes upon to computer trying to find a place to start to decode it

“It’s a simple command line interface it hasn’t been used in fifteen years, I read about it online but this kind of thing takes time” He stated carefully typing on keys while Raphael watched as Shredder pull himself over the building onto is feet

“I’ll buy you some time” The red clad turtle along with his two other brothers blocked Donnie and themselves from being his blocking Shredders knives with their own defense weapon

“BAM! System disabled! Who wants Italian!? I’m buying! Tiramisu for everybody!” The purple clad turtle cheered soaking his hand flat down on the laptop before he was quickly cut off watching as Shredder called back his knives before throwing them back into the towers weak metal as the canister finally tipped over

“Fall in!” Leonardo shouted as the brothers rushed under the tower taking a corner groaning under the weight

“If the spire falls and the toxin makes a ground impact, it’ll contaminate a ten block radius” Donnie shouted out into the open trying to keep his mind off the weight on his shoulders quite literally

“What’s the odds of us stopping that from happening!?”

“Uhh 0.000000003%!”

“I’ll take it! Nobody moves no matter what.” The blue clad turtle stated finally as Shredder walked to the group Leonardo being his first target as he took a metal fist to the plastron without dropping his arms from holding the falling tower

Suddenly the armored man was pulled back with a force too strong to be human and the turtles could cry at the sight of you standing in all your glory holding a hand out as his metal shrieked against the floor dragging towards you as you put a foot on his metal chest plate

“You traitor” He said with a slight wheeze voice still deep and robotic like as you hummed before speaking

“I just don’t fancy the world going under a pandemic because of silly little chemical, you mortals truly amuse me… You will never be a god Oroku” You chuckled darkly and Leonardo realized you humanity still wasn’t on they’d have to fix that when this was all said and done

Without another word you jerked your neck as the man slid off the side of the towers and you approached the tilting towers and the terrapins felt the pressure leaving their shoulders as they watched you hold both of you hands out with a grunt holding the tower up putting back in place breaking the canister as the red air pressed against a sort of force field pressing back into itself before it finally distinguished

You dropped to your knees blood dripping from your nose as you panted heavily and the brothers rushed towards you bombarding you with questions touching you skin a hand was suddenly on your cheek before you were flooded with darkness

The brothers attentions snapped to April while she gasped loudly mutagen held in her hand as she had just watched the leader in blue snap your neck with a sickening crack

“woah, woah, slow yer’ role there. Vampire, immortal, can only die by a stake to the heart ring a bell by any chance? She’ll be up ready to kick my ass in an hour” Raphael questioned somewhat sarcastically before continuing with his infamous smirk on his face as the news reporters breath immediately slowed

“We gotta get out of here… Thank you O’Neil” Leonardo stated finally carrying your unconscious body in his arms and the brothers one by one said goodbye in their own way and the brunette watched as they finally jumped from one building onto the next the people on the ground below too focused on Shredders unconscious body to see the four mutants silhouettes gone into the light of day

She knew however they would see each other again

💌💌💌💌

“It’s been four days Donnie” Raphael huffed pacing back and forth as they all watched you on the nanny cam or vamp cam as Mikey called it you were tied to a chair shoulders slumped, vervain pumping through your veins, and slowly healing

“It’s tedious process Raph I’m trying to speed it up as most as we can” The purple clad reminded his brother pushing his glasses up on his face

The was the problem the process was too tedious and they all remembered the stages you had to go through so they could find a crack in your humanity

First they had to weaken you which is what called for the vervain pumping through your system like as a makeshift IV Then they had to cause you pain and it was hard for all of them but after multiple days seeing not doing so hot you all know where they were a little less reluctant to, trying to make you feel any emotion possible anger, rage, anything.

But you however figured out very soon that the brothers couldn’t actually do any serious damage to you around four hours ago

💌💌💌💌

You screamed out a groan in agony as Leonardo held the shutter to the window open letting the sun lay on your skin burning you while you struggled against your restraints squirming your daylight ring sitting on the table across the small room that kept you able to walk in the sun freely before finally shutting it waking to stand next to his brother

“You’re gonna thank us for this, once you turn it back on, you realize life of no emotions blew” Raphael stated gruffly before you cut him off

“You knew what else blew? Having to worry about your every move and baby you just because you don’t follow simple directions” That was a low blow but the red clad turtle didn’t let it show on his face as he nodded a sarcastic smirk on his lips as he rolled his eyes

There was a small silence before you were suddenly out of the chair opening the shutters letting your skin burn as you screamed Leonardo quickly rushed to fire extinguisher blowing the cold foam over you blazing body as you dropped to floor wheezing out a chuckle

“I’m the girl you love, I’m your mate. You wouldn’t do anything to actually hurt me you just proved that. So what do I really have to be afraid of?” You stated dryly as Michelangelo and Donatello rushed through the door having watched everything on camera and after the purple clad turtle made sure you were okay he dragged to your feet your arms behind your back before finally sitting you back in the steel chair sticking the needle connected into a tube that connected to the main IV and he made sure up dosage on how much Vervain solution pumped into your bloodstream as you let your head fall backwards sighing deeply and the four brothers left a room without another word

💌💌💌💌

Mikey now sat in the corner on the floor in the fan room as it was his turn to watch you for the night and when he heard you rattling against your chains he knew everything was in motion and just how he expected you were in front of him in a flash not as fast as you usually were with all the vervain in your system but it would do

You pulled him up to his feet and without another word he felt your fangs pierce his neck vision getting a bit blurry as you took blood from him and he soon fell to his on all fours before rolling on his back breathing heavily

“Oh come on I barely drained an artery. Come on get up I’m hungry, my heads fuzzy, I can’t think straight I need more.” You taped his side with your foot ushering him back to his feet as he continued to lie in his unmoving position

“Y/n stop” The orange clad turtle raised his head to lol at you for a second before falling back to the floor with a thud as you mocked for forgiveness

“But you’re so good” Just as you dragged the youngest brother to his feet ready to bight the jugular of his neck you were pushed against the wall your head slamming roughly against the concrete

“Hey! You’re cut off, done! Stop it!” The leader in blue growled in your ear as you struggled against his grip screaming at him for you to let him go

“‘Nough” Raphael stated loud enough for your attention to shift towards him as he shoved Donnie away from checking over Mikey’s body dragging his little brother to his feet as his head fell to the side eyes struggling to stay open

“Yer, actin’ like a little spoiled brat you know that? You think we cant punish you? Maybe not but I can sure punish him”

“You seriously think this is gonn-”

“Shut up! I’m done playin’ nice. Turn yer’ emotions back on Y/n or so help me God I will give ya’ somethin’ ta’ be sad about, I will kill him right in front of you” The red clad turtle cut you off gripping his younger brothers frame against his

“Raphael” Leonardo started

“Don’t Raphael me, she don’t love anyone? Fine prove it, and If I’m wrong what difference does it make? He’ll be outa my hair.” He dropped the orange clad turtle to his knees as he incoherently groaned and whimpered looking towards you for a response

“You’re bluffing.” Not a second later you watched as the red clad turtle twisted Michelangelo’s neck the sickening crunch bouncing off the walls as he fell limp to the floor Leonardo let you out of his hold and you gasped taking a step forward before rushing over to him scrambling to take a seat as you cradled his head you head in your lap

“How ‘bout now you feelin’ anything now? You angry I just turned your buddy into roadkill?” As you took quiet gasps running your hands over his scaled face having taken his orange mask of as sat on the floor beside you

“Or are sad that the guy that everybody loves is just a bag of bones? Trying to imagine when he was a little kid? Warm heart, big goofy smile, brightest laugh, biggest imagination” Raphael pressed as You choked out a silent sob while you pressed your forehead to Mikeys and the apologies spurting from your tongue would never be enough you thought

“My baby, my baby.” You sobbed hardly chest aching heart pounding in your ears and Raph crouched down to meet your eye level

“It’s a good thing he’s wearin’ this then right?” He lifted the youngest terrapins arm to bring in your line of sight and what was on it was a T-pad that Donnie had been working on and he pressed the button of the realistic ‘crunch’ that had sounded through the air

“You feel that weight lifting off yer’ chest? That’s joy ‘cause he ain’t dead, that’s emotion baby, that’s humanity” You took a sharp breath in letting the rest of your tears fall down and Leonardo dropped to his knees behind you wrapping an arm against your shoulder

“You’re okay 花/Hana everyone’s okay” The leader shushed you (flower)

“Why isn’t he waking up?” You sniffled hopelessly looking up towards Donnie as he sadly look down at you before doing the same as his brother taking a seat next to you pressing a kiss to your forehead

“Just a little blood loss he’ll be fine, you can speed it up if you want” He spoke quietly and quick you brought your wrist to to your lips biting into your flesh before you pressed it to Mikey’s mouth letting the blood coat his lips and slide down his throat

“I’m so sorry, I was just trying to protect you I didn’t mean for this to happen for the first time in centuries I was actually scared. I-I didn’t know what to do” Donatello read your vitals starting to come down you were just in a bit of shock it was expected

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself Angel cakes if it made you feel better that was totally hot” The orange clad turtle spoke from his position and rushed to hold him tightly his skin mended together the only thing left was smeared blood against his neck

“Can’t believe that plan actually worked, yer a little wuss you know that?” Raphael’s voice cracked slightly eyes watering as you stared up at him with a relieved watery look on your face and that’s all it took for the buff raging red turtle to join in the forming turtle pile around you

💌💌💌💌

WOO after about just under a week and a half of writing I’m done

*cracks neck*

time to take another three week break 😊

[laurolive]

A Kiss that Made the Papers

Where were you in ‘82?

24 September 1982, London. A triple threat event: Linda’s 1st London photography exhibit, launch party for her 2nd photo book, and possible birthday party. Photo by Robert Rosen.

(See also The Guardian Archives 21 Sept 1982: First London exhibition for Linda McCartney. Although the article states that the events occurred on her 40th birthday, Linda was actually born in 1941; so this would have been her 41st birthday.)

“I got it!” recalled celebrity photographer Robert Rosen of the moment his camera captured a kiss between the McCartneys. “That photo went worldwide…” [link1, link2]

It instantly appeared on page 5 of the Friday 24 September 1982 issue of The Daily Mirror [link], complete with its own title and a little essay (reproduced below).

YESTERDAY… And after 13 years together a kiss is still something special for Paul and Linda by WILLIAM MARSHALL GENTLY, almost shyly, Paul McCartney kisses his wife, Linda. It happened at a party in London to launch Linda's latest book of photographs. The kiss is loving, sexual in a restrained kind of way, absolutely decent and breathes of a solid conventional marriage of four-square family values. The normal pattern for a multi-millionaire star like Paul would have been several divorces, a string o1 multi-coloured affairs, and a rapidly fraying life. Instead, McCartney, at 40 an enduring elder statesman in the ragamuffin rock world, beats a steady path into middle age with an ex-divorcee for a wife. They married more than 13 years ago. When I first met Paul twenty-odd years ago in the rackety, smokey music cellars of Liverpool he was a bright-faced kid for whom the world had suddenly been flung at at his feet — along with the rest of the Beatles. But even then, while all about him exploded into hysteria and chaos, he viewed the present and future with an eye like an experienced general before a battle. He came from a steady home background, adored his father and never subscribed to the passing whims and fancies that dictated that families, kids and lifelong marriages should be kicked out the door.

Takeaways

Paul doesn’t look so shy to me, ha ha (neither of them do).

An elder statesman of rock?? Beating a path to middle age?? But he’s only 40! And a young looking 40 at that. Let’s not call him an elder statesman until he gets some gray in his hair or until he reaches the titular age of 64, whichever comes last. On a more serious note, though, Marshall was probably speaking of generational impact rather than literal age. McCartney wrote more influential music before he turned 30 than most composers had written in a lifetime.

“… families, kids and lifelong marriages…” Count Mr. Marshall as a perceptive observer who could tell that what Paul and Linda had was a lifelong marriage — even at the relative “newlywed” stage of a mere 13 years. 😎

And Paul and Linda loved the photo. They have a copy. 💋

In a 20 Sept 2017 interview in I-D magazine [link], Rosen was asked which one of his photos he was really proud of. It was the Paul and Linda kiss photo, of course. Rosen says,

“I love the shot of Paul and Linda McCartney kissing. As soon as I had it developed I just thought, wow, I did that. I sent them a print but didn't hear anything more until a few months later, when, Paul and Linda turned up to a gallery event I happened to be at. At one point, Linda tapped me on the shoulder and said, 'Are you ignoring us?' She gave me a big hug and told me they loved the photo. That obviously meant a great deal to me.”

_____________________

[rjzimmerman]

Food as You Know It Is About to Change. (New York Times Op-Ed)

From the vantage of the American supermarket aisle, the modern food system looks like a kind of miracle. Everything has been carefully cultivated for taste and convenience — even those foods billed as organic or heirloom — and produce regarded as exotic luxuries just a few generations ago now seems more like staples, available on demand: avocados, mangoes, out-of-season blueberries imported from Uruguay.

But the supermarket is also increasingly a diorama of the fragility of a system — disrupted in recent years by the pandemic, conflict and, increasingly, climate change. What comes next? Almost certainly, more disruptions and more hazards, enough to remake the whole future of food.

The world as a whole is already facing what the Cornell agricultural economist Chris Barrett calls a “food polycrisis.” Over the past decade, he says, what had long been reliable global patterns of year-on-year improvements in hunger first stalled and then reversed. Rates of undernourishment have grown 21 percent since 2017. Agricultural yields are still growing, but not as quickly as they used to and not as quickly as demand is booming. Obesity has continued to rise, and the average micronutrient content of dozens of popular vegetables has continued to fall. The food system is contributing to the growing burden of diabetes and heart disease and to new spillovers of infectious diseases from animals to humans as well.

And then there are prices. Worldwide, wholesale food prices, adjusted for inflation, have grown about 50 percent since 1999, and those prices have also grown considerably more volatile, making not just markets but the whole agricultural Rube Goldberg network less reliable. Overall, American grocery prices have grown by almost 21 percent since President Biden took office, a phenomenon central to the widespread perception that the cost of living has exploded on his watch. Between 2020 and 2023, the wholesale price of olive oil tripled; the price of cocoa delivered to American ports jumped by even more in less than two years. The economist Isabella Weber has proposed maintaining the food equivalent of a strategic petroleum reserve, to buffer against shortages and ease inevitable bursts of market chaos.

Price spikes are like seismographs for the food system, registering much larger drama elsewhere — and sometimes suggesting more tectonic changes underway as well. More than three-quarters of the population of Africa, which has already surpassed one billion, cannot today afford a healthy diet; this is where most of our global population growth is expected to happen this century, and there has been little agricultural productivity growth there for 20 years. Over the same time period, there hasn’t been much growth in the United States either.

Though American agriculture as a whole produces massive profits, Mr. Barrett says, most of the country’s farms actually lose money, and around the world, food scarcity is driving record levels of human displacement and migration. According to the World Food Program, 282 million people in 59 countries went hungry last year, 24 million more than the previous year. And already, Mr. Barrett says, building from research by his Cornell colleague Ariel Ortiz-Bobea, the effects of climate change have reduced the growth of overall global agricultural productivity by between 30 and 35 percent. The climate threats to come loom even larger.

It can be tempting, in an age of apocalyptic imagination, to picture the most dire future climate scenarios: not just yield declines but mass crop failures, not just price spikes but food shortages, not just worsening hunger but mass famine. In a much hotter world, those will indeed become likelier, particularly if agricultural innovation fails to keep pace with climate change; over a 30-year time horizon, the insurer Lloyd’s recently estimated a 50 percent chance of what it called a “major” global food shock.

But disruption is only half the story and perhaps much less than that. Adaptation and innovation will transform the global food supply, too. At least to some degree, crops such as avocados or cocoa, which now regularly appear on lists of climate-endangered foodstuffs, will be replaced or redesigned. Diets will shift, and with them the farmland currently producing staple crops — corn, wheat, soy, rice. The pressure on the present food system is not a sign that it will necessarily fail, only that it must change. Even if that progress does come to pass, securing a stable and bountiful future for food on a much warmer planet, what will it all actually look like?

[chestnutroan]

A very old fallout 4 oc, Calvin

[purplemortuary]

My heart hurts.

Atsushi Sakurai, you gave me countless moments of joy, sadness, nostalgia and love among many feelings.

I don't even remember how I found out about Buck-Tick but wasn't more than a couple of years ago, sadly I didn't find your music before which would have been a delight.

I'm still making my peace with the fact that you won't be around anymore, I have moments of denial and moments of tears. There are instants in which I'm like "But how? He was here last month, how is he not here anymore, he was still young"

It all felt so sudden but somewhat I've been depressed for days and I didn't know why, I guess I was even more worried than what I wanted to admit after his heath declined but a part of me was trying to think "he's alright and resting with his cats at home"

But days kept passing and there were no news, U-ta said he was going to take a break from his blog which felt odd but I still thought "maybe they realised it's time to take it slower and take care of themselves"

When I finally saw the announcement, a chill runs through my body and I am shaking, I told a friend with whom I was talking to "he died" and I couldn't believe the words came out of my fingers typing. I read the post probably 20 times hoping for it to change.

Then it all made sense, Issay, COVID, the stress he was probably having, his voice being hurt, Imai drinking a beer I believe in the middle of the night, U-ta stopping his blog and the very late birthday wish for Imai on the Instagram profile.

He died the very day he stumbled in his feet but still kept going for three songs, I heard from people who were there that something didn't feel right from the start, that day will stay forever in my heart. I have many drafts and sketches of him but almost never finished anything, one day I might.

I know that I will never get the chance to see you dance and sing with your beautiful voice which was something I was planning on my trip to Japan in the next few years, now even thinking about travelling feels painful, but I'll try to remember the good side of you, the songs you gave us, the laughs and smiles you gifted us, the thoughts you shared with us, the turbulent times and the happy times.

I know you probably had a difficult and sometimes lonely life, sometimes I felt connected to your opinions in interviews and views on life and relationships.

I don't know what's going to happen to the band now, only time and decisions of Mr. Imai, Mr. Hoshino, Mr. Yuta and Mr. Yagami will say.

Regardless of what happens, I will support their choice and keep loving them as the band that was born in school and didn't know the future was going to be more than 35 years together, a life full of experiences.

Thank you so much for sharing a part of your life with us and I'm forever grateful that I got to exist in the same timeline as you.

Photo: Atsushi Sakurai's hand (top) in 2017 from Jin Shirosaki's blog (https://ameblo.jp/shirosaki-jin/entry-12342363953.html)

[historyhermann]

Villainous Review

Villainous, also known as Villanos, is animated series which mixes the science fantasy, morbid humor, and comedy horror genres. Alan Ituriel, a veteran of the Mexican animation industry, is the series creator. This series is produced by Ituriel's A.I. Animation Studios and Cartoon Network. Humberto Cervera and Mayte Sanz are also executive producers. There will be spoilers.

Reprinted from Pop Culture Maniacs and Wayback Machine. This was the thirty-third article I wrote for Pop Culture Maniacs. This post was originally published on May 26, 2023.

This series flips the script often employed in superhero fiction such as Masters of the Universe: Revelation, Tokyo Mew Mew (and the reboot), Sailor Moon, Sailor Moon Crystal, Vixen, and Young Justice. It focuses on the Black Hat Organization, run by the villainous Black Hat (voiced by Ituriel). He is assisted by his team of three aides: Dr. Flug (voiced by Yian Riuz), Demencia (voiced by Cindy Eliz Pérez), and 5.0.5. (voiced by Mark Fischbach). They are contracted by other villains to "solve" their problems with heroes, either directly or indirectly, or sell inventions created by Dr. Flug. Their plans often go awry with comical and absurd consequences.

Villainous has garnered a massive following since the first webisodes premiered in 2012, followed by efforts by Ituriel to pitch the series to Cartoon Network. This resulted in the pilot airing in June 2019. The series had a backdoor pilot in the Season Two Victor and Valentino episode "Villainy In Monte Macabre", in October 2020. There were 29 shorts featuring the same characters, which aired from May 2017 to February 2019 on the Cartoon Network Latin America YouTube channel. Even one "episode" was released which consisted of the creators rick-rolling the show's fans.

Some have posted their own dubs of the show's six episodes, which were released in Spanish language in October 2021, on HBO Max LA, and other content. Their recent, and official, release as part of "Season 1a" on the newly renamed "Max" streaming service (formerly known as "HBO Max"), makes them more accessible to new and old fans alike.

The first episode of Villainous sets the tone. A superhero named Sunblast (voiced by Roly Gutiérrez) beats up a villain, Penumbra (voiced by Rebecca Manriquez), because his new punching bag hasn't been delivered. It is also a good introduction to each of the characters: a nervous and nerdy scientist in his 20s named Dr. Flug who wears a paper bag over his head, a green-haired mischief-loving fan of Black Hat named Demencia, and a big blue bear named 5.0.5. The latter is a contradiction, as he was intended to be evil, but is very loving, and likes hugging people. He also serves as the housekeeper-of-sorts of the Black Hat Organization (BHO).

Even from the first episode you can somewhat sympathize with these villains, despite their trapping of Sunblast in a jar, punching Ringworm (voiced by Sean Davis) into submission, and dropping heroes in pits without a second thought. This sympathy is clear when the three protagonists are yelled at by Black Hat for doing a "mediocre" job. One character in particular, Dr. Flug, is scared of his boss (Black Hat), ghosts like Emilia (voiced by Jackie Rodriguez), wrestlers, and almost being killed by heroes.

I liked how the series mixes humor with violence and "course language". For instance, a group of kids, based on Scooby-Doo protagonists, are scared off by a possessed fence. Later, the unstoppable Bulldozer (voiced by David Steel) attempts to destroy the Outlaw House (voiced by Alex Texeira). He is stopped by 5.0.5., as bears terrify him after one bit him years ago.

Sometimes this comedy is continued during the episode credits. In the episode 2 credits, Bulldozer ends up in the cave house of the three protagonists of We Bare Bears (Grizzly, Panda, and Ice Bear), another CN series. In the credits of the fourth episode, the heroic Airlock (voiced by Jinon Deebs), a short-haired White woman, is eaten by a space monster. This is after she escaped the show's protagonists because she found them as very "annoying".

This brings me to another part which I enjoy about Villainous: crossovers with other series. The third episode, reportedly a homage to the Mexican wrestling films of the 1960s, features characters from Victor and Valentino and Helluva Boss in the stands. A few episodes later, Johnny Bravo, from the series of the same name, is a background character, while the robotic lawyers for Black Hat bring plagiarism cases against characters from Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends.

That same episode also features Harvey Birdman from the Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law, and characters from Grim and Evil like Hector Con Carne. Again, these are all CN series, which makes the crossovers all the more interesting.

In the third episode of Villainous, the three protagonists are tasked at eliminating a luchador named El Valiente (voiced by Jose Aparicio) by their client, Adelita Guerrero (voiced by Margarita Coego). It reminds me of three series: Carmen Sandiego, Elena of Avalor and Victor and Valentino.

In the latter two, there are episodes in which the protagonists, or supporting characters, are possessed by a mask, like Mascara Macabra (voiced by Aparicio) in this series, or another individual. As for Carmen Sandiego, the Season Three opening episode features Carmen attending a wrestling match in hopes of finding her mother.

The characters of Villainous become even more relatable in the last couple episodes. In the fourth episode, Dr. Flug's favorite series is spoiled by a sassy A.I. named V.I.R.U.S. (voiced by Sean Davis). Even worse, 5.0.5. is horrified when Black Hat ruins a children's show, almost akin to the Teletubbies. It becomes horrific after Black Hat causes the Sun to light the bears on fire.

The series pokes fun at itself. In one episode, the copycats/doppelgangers claim they are BHO in order to rake in profits for themselves. This is better executed than the "Pirates" episode of Cleopatra in Space, as each of the protagonists comes across a "stronger" version of themselves. Hilariously, and sadly, 5.0.5.'s counterpart is just a cactus. In that same episode, I liked how Dr. Flug blatantly interrupts the "origin story" of the other version of Black Hat, annoying him to no end.

The final episode of Villainous ends the series on bang. It focuses on a self-absorbed social media influencer named Miss Heed (voiced by Katherine Clavelo), who Dr. Flug knew when he went to the academy. She is far worse than those depicted in the first season of The Proud Family: Louder and Prouder, Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur, or the currently airing Kizuna no Allele.

In fact, Heed has a special concoction she sprays on the city residents to make them love her. In an indictment of such influencers, also known as internet personalities or internet celebrities, and their power, Dr. Flug is able to take her down, with the assistance of Demencia. His kiss with her, is streamed and goes viral. It causes all of her zombie "fans" to fall out of love with her.

While some series would have stopped there, Villainous goes the extra step. Heed is pushed into a vat of her own liquid, ending her plan to be the "most-loved" hero. She is locked up in a maximum security prison. Fitting with her personality, she falls off her rocker, and demands that people need to love her. In one of the best scenes in the series, Flug, after learning about Goldheart's plan to eliminate all villains, tells Heed that she needs to love herself first (i.e. self-love) before she can love anyone else.

The entire sequence, at first, appears to reinforce retributive justice paradigms. The latter involves punishment being imposed unilaterally, no option for remorse, and crime in the domain of the state. This is interlinked with the narrative that violence is justified as long as it is directed at those deemed as "evil". It further involves heroes in league with the criminal system and has an assumption that villains cannot be rehabilitated. On the other hand, Villainous turns this around, as Heed is a hero and Flug is a villain, meaning that a "hero" is being locked away for something a "villain" would do.

While Flug's kiss is a one-off interaction, Demencia's romantic obsession with Black Hat spans the series. She believes that her romantic feelings will be reciprocated, but he likely doesn't care much about her. However, her love saves her from Heed's concoction, as she only has love for him. More than anything, Demencia is an obsessed fan. Perhaps her character is symbolic of out-of-control fans which feel the same way about public figures, to the detriment of themselves and those personalities.

All in all, this series has many similarities to Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel, especially the former. BHO somewhat resembles I.M.P. (Immediate Murder Professionals). The latter is contracted by demons in hell to assassinate people in the world of the living. The difference is that BHO specifically focuses on heroes and is only contracted by villains.

The last episode of Villainous, at present, lays the groundwork for future episodes. Goldheart (voiced by Oliver Roberts) seems to know Dr. Flug, declaring "Flug, what did you do now?" The efforts of BHO to counter him could be an important storyline.

A possible second season, might not follow a serialized format. The six current episodes have the same characters, but are not, serialized. Each episode could stand on its own. This does not diminish the series, however.

The voice actors for this series stand out. Apart from Ituriel, Yian Riuz, Cindy Eliz Pérez, and Mark Fischbach, who voice the protagonists, are all talented. Fischbach is a well-known YouTuber, with this as his first voice role. In contrast, Pérez previously played a character in BoBoiBoy Elemental Heroes, and Riuz in Mashed!

Similarly, Sahid Pabon, Roly Gutiérrez, Connie Fernandez, Yenni Ann, Guia Burns, and Jason Kessler, who voice villains, wrestlers, henchmen, and others in the series, are equally talented. They have lent their voices to characters in Monkey King Reborn, Legend Quest, Gintama, Leo De Vinci, Rainbow High, Kageki Shojo!!, and Kemono Friends.

This is also the case for the Spanish-language voice actors, such as José Antonio Macías, Melissa Gedeón, Lourdes Arruti, and Diego Valenzuela. They have voiced characters in video games, animated shorts, and productions such as Guardians of Oz, and Top Cat.

The producers of Villainous worked on The Flying Machine, Hua Se, Frankelda's Book of Spooks, Pucca, Pandalian, Eden, Tonikawa: Over the Moon for You, and Xi you ji. Kevin Manthei, the music composer, worked on Ben 10, Spider-Man, Robot Chicken, Ultimate Spider-Man, Polly Pocket, Hanny Manny, Invader Zim, and Generator Rex.

Other than the amazing dubbing by VOA Studios, in Miami, the show's crew includes alums from many series. This includes Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts, Dota: Dragon's Blood, Black Dynamite, Legend of Korra, OK K.O. Let's Be Heroes!, Danger House, Harvey Birdman Attorney at Law, and Scan2Go.

Villainous is more than a series with humor reminiscent of 1990s cartoons. It has themes about overcoming your inner demons and lampoons popular Cartoon Network series. This is accompanied by entertaining characters, which have intriguing dynamics and comraderie within the BHO, wonderful animation, character design, artwork, and creativity. What other series has villains traveling to their destination in a flying hat spewing smoke?

I haven't watched enough Invader Zim or The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy to say if Villainous is like those series. However, each character is interesting enough and the story is engaging that Villainous could run for many seasons. If Helluva Boss has aired 12 episodes, why can't Villainous do the same? Perhaps the cast could become even more diverse and LGBTQ characters could be added. The latter would further enhance the series.

Unfortunately, Villainous comes at a time of extreme flux at Max's parent company, Warner Bros. Discovery. This includes an error causing writers, directors, and creators to all be lumped together into one category. There has been an awful rollout of the "Max"  streaming service, in an inane effort to "attract" families.

This comes after the cruel content purge at HBO Max, former name for the service. It resulted in the removal of Infinity Train, Mighty Magiswords, Uncle Grandpa, Final Space, and Close Enough. None of them have been re-added to Max. The content purge on Hulu, and on Max, was discussed in a PCM podcast on May 22nd.

Despite the shenanigans of the corporate executives, I am hopeful that Villainous will be continued with additional episodes. All in all, I highly recommend Villainous as a series to watch.

Villainous is currently streaming on Max.

© 2023 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

[endwersed]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by the fabulous @dear-massacre 😘

How many works do you have on ao3?

21 - it would be a lot higher, but I purged all but one of my old Destiel fics back in 2017. They weren't very good, so I can't say I really regret it 🤷‍♀️

What's your total ao3 word count?

319,994

What fandoms do you write for?

Now, just Teen Wolf 🐺

Top five fics by kudos:

Find Your Fire - Reddie (IT)

Clue(less) - Reddie (IT)

Nah, He Didn't - Destiel (Supernatural)

Worst Enemy - Reddie (IT)

as dear as a brother - Sterek (TW)

Do you respond to comments?

Embarrassingly, it's very hit and miss... I want to! I love and cherish every single comment I ever get! But I find the process of replying to comments bizarrely stressful, so sometimes it takes me... a while. And that while might be, like, years. Sorry!!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I genuinely don't have anything with an angsty ending posted; I need my boys to be happy too badly for that. I guess I could say maybe striking out - just because it's not finished yet, and where it is in the story right now is angsty af!

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All of them have rom-com level happy endings lol. Maybe Clue(less) - it's a childhood friends-to-lovers soulmate AU, so it has all the sap that comes with those particular tropes wrapped up in there.

Do you get hate on fics?

I wouldn't call it hate, per se - but I guess my interpretation of Stiles is a bit harsher/more rough-edged than others I've seen, and some people don't vibe with that, so I get comments telling me they don't like Stiles in my story for XYZ reason.

To be clear - I also don't write Derek as a completely faultless, entirely perfect guy. I also have him do bad (arguably worse, in some fics) things. But for some reason, I don't ever really get the same kind of comments about him!

Do you write smut?

Like, almost exclusively at this point. It's like my brain can't come up with a story unless I'll get a chance to write them fucking nasty in it.

Craziest crossover:

None, they're not really my jam.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

omg yes! years ago! It was this Destiel HS AU I had posted on AO3 (since deleted because it was... not good) and someone posted it onto ff.net and claimed it was theirs. I can't remember if I ever was successful in getting it taken down.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not.

All time favourite ship?

All time is so hard... I do probably have to say Sterek. I shipped them intensely back in 2012, and I ship them even more intensely now. So - yeah. Probably them.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Are we talking real WIP that I've actually made a meaningful dent in? Or just ideas I've put down to paper?

Because I have so many ideas, there isn't enough time to actually finish them all lol. But for fics I have actively started, I'm pretty confident I'll manage to muddle through to the end of all of them, even if it takes a little while.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and smut, I think.

I tend to develop a scene around the dialogue - in that, it's the dialogue that will come to me first when I'm planning the outline, and I'll note it down for when I come around to writing the scene. Then it's mostly a case of refining that dialogue and building the scene with descriptions around it.

I also love smut as character study. It's not just about being horny for them. It's about being horny for their introspection, too.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I don't have the imagination to come up with some of the flowery prose I see and love from other people. I wish I did, but that's just not how my brain works unfortunately!

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I only really feel comfortable writing in languages I'm fluent in. For anything else, I think we all know Google Translate can't be trusted, so I just... avoid it.

First fandom you wrote in?

Harry Potter! Wolfstar all the way back on ff.net <3

Favorite fic you've written?

Oh god, this is hard. Let's go with a Teen Wolf fic, because they're the nearest and dearest to my heart right now.

I think I'd say feels so good inside. It was so much fun to write, and I just love loss of virginity fics so damn much.

-

Open tag to anyone who wants a go!

[pandalandalopalis]

Devil May Cry Wolf - Matt Murdock x Mutant Reader [Chapter Sixteen]

Masterlist Previous Chapter

Story Synopsis: The first time you jumped, it was 2014 and you were nine years old. You were in the back of your parents’ car — then you were in New York, standing on the street … and it was 1992.

The second time you jumped, it was 1998 and you were fifteen years old. You were heading back home to Saint Agnes after school had ended — and then you were knee-deep in snow, in Russia, in 1970. Outside a Red Room facility.

The third time you jumped, you were twenty-five and had spent ten years training as a Red Room agent. Ten years training your body to use your mutation. Jumping in space was easy — jumping in time was not. But you did it. After ten years, you did it. Now you have to live with the trauma.

Five years later, killing is still the only thing you know how to do, and the only thing you do best. In 2016, a vigilante named Daredevil stops you from killing a man who attacked you. He tells you that you can do better. You think maybe he’s right. But in 2017, Matt Murdock is in the darkest place in his life. When you show up to save him, he’s not exactly grateful. And when he finds out that you’re the best friend he grew up with in Saint Agnes that disappeared almost 20 years ago — things get even more complicated.

You’ll have to drag Matt out of the dark while being jaw-deep in it yourself. And you’ll have to try your best to do better — when Matt is trying his best to do worse.

Chapter Synopsis: You go through therapy. You go on a date with Steve that gets interrupted.

Warning: Brief mention of Wolf’s suicide attempts. Brief allusions to sexual assault.

Part 2 - Chapter Sixteen: Wolf, Interrupted

A/N: Therapy is important and it can help. I’ve been to therapy many times and I’ve had about four therapists over the years. It can be hard but it does help in the long run. It’s important to remember that healing is not a linear process. Just because you experience set-backs does not mean that you’re not getting better. It also looks different for everyone. Also! Not all therapists are right for everyone. Don’t be afraid to get a new therapist if you feel the one you have is not working for you, they won’t be offended. Sometimes therapists have different styles and you need to find the one that works for you. If you’re having a hard time, I strongly encourage you to seek therapy if that’s something you have available to you (I know it can be expensive which I recognize is something that can make getting therapy difficult). I know it may sound trite because people say it so often, but it will get better. You’ll find your way. I love you all. Anyway. I got DMCW brainrot. This is over 13k words. Enjoy.

You told her everything. You did not hold back.

But telling your story was not like the times you had told it when you weren’t sober. Anytime you tried to say it casually, like it didn’t matter, the words got stuck in your throat and it was an effort to get them out.

It took a long time to get through everything. You thought it would take one session to simply tell her everything that had happened in your life, just the facts and background, not how you felt or what you thought about them — but it wasn’t like that. Each moment in your life that you went over, your eidetic memory brought to the forefront. 

For some of them, a fifty-minute session was not enough. Your first weeks in the Red Room. The first time you killed someone. Each of your two suicide attempts. The reason behind those suicide attempts.

You re-lived each of these memories in graphic and vivid detail, with no substance to blur the edges and numb the feeling. To get the words out on what happened took a long time. You knew the Doc saw the moments for herself, so she knew them already, but the point of the therapy was for you to say it out loud. To narrate it yourself. To tell the story in your own words. It was a way to . . . walk through the memories, rather than let yourself be dragged through them.

It was a slow and excruciating process and many times you asked yourself what the point was. How this would help you.

And yet, throughout, the Doc re-lived the memories with you. You felt her in your mind, her telepathy like a warm hand wrapped around yours as you walked through each painful and anguished step. Someone who waited patiently each time you stumbled. Each time you found it difficult to continue. She waited. And sat with you. And let you lean on her when you were ready to stand again.

Fifty minutes, every day, you endured. You wanted this to work and you wanted it to work as fast as possible. But the Doc told you that healing is a process, and it is a non-linear process. She told you that you may get better and then experience set-backs where things get worse again. She told you that’s normal. That healing is not just continuously getting better and staying better until you’re completely healed. She told you that healing takes as long as it takes and that it can’t be rushed. Which was why she encouraged you not to time travel ahead to the next session, as if you could live as many therapy sessions back-to-back as you could in an effort to fix yourself as fast as possible. She told you that part of the healing process involved learning how to live daily life with your trauma. 

She gave tips on how to build healthy coping mechanisms. She taught you how to be grateful. To take time out of your day to recognize the things you were grateful for. Not being in the Red Room. Not living with the threat of violence every day. Being able to make your own choices. And little things, too. Coffee. The colour of the sky. The way the outside air smelled on a crisp, clear day. 

She encouraged you not to let yourself be alone. That being alone would only induce intrusive, negative thoughts of your past and send you spiraling. 

But you couldn’t contact Matt. The two of you still weren’t on speaking terms. You weren’t ready to see him yet. Not after what he had said. 

So between the sessions, in the evenings and on the weekends, you contacted Karen. She wasn’t like the Avengers, she knew who you were and what you’d done. You didn’t have to pretend you were someone that you weren’t. 

You didn’t talk to her about your trauma, that was saved for the Doc, but you spent time with her. Let yourself not be alone. Talked about things that didn’t matter. Went to coffee shops and walked in the park. 

Karen was only happy to oblige you. She kept your mind off things. She had a wealth of things to talk about. She gave you suggestions for books to read, smutty romance stories that could keep your mind busy in the times when you were not in therapy and when you were not with her. 

She did ask things, but she did not push. She was always gentle. How are you doing today? How is therapy going? Is there anything you’d like to talk about? 

Have you seen Matt lately?

Some questions you answered and some you did not. But you were always honest with her. When she asked you things, she seemed to genuinely want to know the answer. She was easy to talk to. Today is fine. Today is not good. Today is really bad. Today is better. Therapy is good. Therapy is the worst thing invented. Therapy is like putting your heart on a metal pike and watching it bleed. Therapy is helping. No, there isn’t anything I want to talk about, but thank you.

No, I haven’t seen Matt lately. And that was it.

Karen noticed the first day that it looked like Matt hadn’t slept a wink. He was distracted, he was irritable. His mind was clearly elsewhere. He checked his phone messages almost obsessively. He snapped a few times at her and Foggy.

When she tried to ask him what was wrong, he only told her Nothing, I’m fine and wouldn’t give her anything more than that. Then she told him off for being an asshole to her and Foggy when they hadn’t done anything to upset him like this. He apologized, but didn’t explain his behaviour.

This went on for the next week. After his apology he no longer snapped at Karen or Foggy, but his distracted and sleep-deprived mood stayed. He barely got any work done. He was tense, all the time. Karen kept trying to get what was wrong out of him but he refused to say.

It wasn’t until Y/N contacted Karen on the weekend that she finally knew the reason why. 

Y/N had never contacted Karen directly before. They always hung out in a group of four, with Matt and Foggy. So when Y/N asked if just the two of them could hang out, she didn’t dislike the idea but she was a bit surprised.

Karen thought, if anyone would know what was wrong with Matt, it would be Y/N. And then all the pieces fell into place when Y/N admitted,

“Actually, um, Matt and I are not on speaking terms right now.”

Suddenly all of it made sense. Karen had seen the way Y/N and Matt were with each other, she knew how close they were and what they meant to each other. The fact that they weren’t talking, that was the reason for Matt’s lack of sleep and bad mood. The obsessive voicemail-checking made sense now, too.

“What happened?”

And then Karen noticed what she hadn’t a moment before: how much Y/N’s demeanour represented Matt’s. Worse, even. The bags under her eyes and the vacant look in her expression. Her faraway stare. And for the first time that Karen had ever seen of her, Y/N’s eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t want to— Fuck, I’m sorry.” Y/N scrubbed at her face, like she was embarrassed by the tears running from her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

Whatever it was, it was clearly something bad. Karen touched Y/N’s hand and made her voice very, very gentle. “Are you okay?”

And then Y/N’s face broke and her voice was a shattered and wrecked admission, “No.”

The sobs came as if she couldn’t stop them. Karen did not hesitate to wrap her arms around Y/N. She held her and let her cry into her shoulder.

When Y/N was finally able to pull enough of herself together to speak, she gave some explanations. How she got sober recently. How that made it difficult to cope against the things in her past that had happened to her. How she used to use drugs and alcohol to cope against her eidetic memory, which made her re-live things in crystal clear detail. How she started going to therapy. How her therapist suggested she reach out to someone. To not be alone.

She didn’t explain what had happened between her and Matt, but Karen knew that whatever had happened meant that Y/N couldn’t reach out to Matt so she wouldn’t have to be alone. And if Y/N was reaching out to Karen, it probably meant that Matt was not just Y/N’s closest friend — he was her only friend. 

On Monday, when Karen saw Matt in the office again, she knew she needed to give him something. For his sanity.

“Y/N’s okay.”

Matt’s head snapped up when Karen spoke. His eyebrows knitted together. “What?”

“She contacted me. We had lunch yesterday.”

“You saw her?” Matt hadn’t known where she was. It weighed in the pit of his stomach, the idea that she had run away again, that she was far away or lost in time. That she wasn’t coming back. And he was so fucking angry with her, for making bad and selfish choices, for the things she had said during their fight, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from being worried out of his mind. He couldn’t sleep. He could barely eat. Because he knew, no matter how angry he was, that losing her would kill him. 

But she wasn’t gone. She was still in New York. 

And yet a worse thought found him: Did she find a way to get rid of her memories after all? When Karen said she was okay, did she mean she was void of her trauma? Perfectly fine without the truth of her memories haunting her? “She’s . . . okay?” Matt repeated. 

“Well, to be honest,” Karen said, “she’s really not okay. She’s working through a lot of things, and I’m not really sure how much of that you know. I still don’t know what happened between the two of you; she wouldn’t say. And I won’t ask you again, because I know you won’t tell me. So, she’s not okay . . . but she’s trying to be.”

She still had her memories. She didn’t get rid of them. 

Something very heavy lifted off Matt’s shoulders. 

God. He was so tired.

Karen didn’t tell Matt any other details about her meeting with Y/N. She wasn’t sure if Y/N would want her to tell Matt any of that. But she gave him enough to give him peace of mind.

Matt nodded, not saying anything. Then he took off his glasses and put his face in his hands. 

Karen walked over to where he was sitting at his desk, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Let them sit in silence like that for as long as Matt needed.

That evening, Matt and Foggy went out for drinks at Josie’s. Karen had plans, so she didn’t join them. 

Matt knew that Foggy’s patience had run out before he even spoke.

“Okay, you really gotta tell me what’s going on with you,” Foggy said. “I know you love bottling things up but I was hoping this time around our friendship would be different. You can just keep secrets like you used to. May I remind you that that was the reason our friendship fell apart in the first place.”

Matt sighed. “I know. You’re right. I’m sorry.” He paused, collecting himself. Now that he knew that Y/N at least hadn’t left New York and hadn’t erased her memories, he felt prepared enough to talk about this. “Things between Y/N and I are not good. We’re not talking right now.”

Foggy’s tone was sympathetic. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure how much you’re aware of Y/N’s past, but she’s been through a lot,” Matt began. “I won’t get into it, but there’s a lot of bad there. A lot I’m sure I still don’t know about. Things a person should never have to go through. And she’d been using alcohol and Oxy to cope with that.” He paused again. “She got sober recently. Because I asked her to.” There was a tinge of guilt there though he knew it was ultimately her choice, though he knew that it was ultimately a good thing. She still did it because he asked her to. And she was still suffering because of it. “I didn’t ask her to do it forever — just for a night. But she decided to get clean. I think a part of her wanted an excuse to do it. But she’s not doing well. She’s not coping. And I don’t know how to help her. I don’t know how to protect her from things that have already happened.” 

Useless. What did he have besides his fists? What was he worth more than that? What did he have that could help her?

“She . . . she tried to have all her bad memories erased,” Matt continued.

“What? You can do that?”

“If you find a telepath, I guess so,” Matt said. “But I guess the telepath she found refused to do it. We fought about that. I didn’t think it was a good idea. I . . . didn’t know what would happen to her if she did. If it went wrong, if it wiped all her memories, if I would lose her forever.” Matt held his beer tightly in his hand, feeling like teeth would break under the pressure of his jaw. “She said . . . she’d rather that happen than keep the bad memories. She said that our memories, everything we’d been through together, weren’t worth keeping. She said that . . . that I wasn’t worth keeping her trauma.”

“Shit,” Foggy swore softly. “That’s harsh.” He was quiet for a moment, taking all this in. “Do you think she meant what she said?

“I don’t know,” Matt answered honestly. “I mean . . . is it fair to ask her to keep all her bad memories? When it’s making her suffer like this? I don’t know. And the thing is I’m really . . . angry with her. That everything we’ve been through together could mean so little to her. But at the same time I’m. . .” he breathed in, hauling the breath into his lungs, “. . .just really, really worried about her.”

Foggy sighed. “What I’m about to say . . . it’s not going to help you. And you probably don’t want to hear it. But it needs to be said.”

He paused, and Matt waited.

“Now you know how it feels.”

Oh.

Right.

How many times had Matt made things difficult for Foggy and Karen when it came to his other life? How many times did he make them worry? Make them angry with what he was doing? Let them down? Make it hard for them to be friends with him? . . .Say awful things?

“Yeah,” Matt breathed. “I know.”

Maybe this was karma. Matt thought of the way he treated Y/N when he was at the lowest place in his life. When she saved him. When she kept coming back, time and time again. How angry he was. How cold. 

And for the first time, Matt really considered how hard Y/N tried when he was being so horrible to her. He said so many terrible things to her and she didn’t let it stop her. Both Foggy and Karen had given up on him, both before his near-death and after it, but Y/N refused to. She took every bad thing he threw at her and she kept coming back.

“You should forgive yourself,” she’d said, sick with withdrawal, sitting pressed against him under the warm spray of his shower. “I already have.”

“What do I do?” Matt asked after a time, and he hated the rough sound of his voice when he spoke. “I think I said something she took the wrong way. I told her I was afraid that erasing her bad memories might change her. I think she thought I meant that her trauma is such an integral part of her that getting rid of it would make her unrecognizable. I didn’t mean that. I don’t really know what I was afraid of . . . I just didn’t know what would happen if she went through with erasing her memories. I know I have a lot of memories that I’d rather forget. But I wouldn’t erase them because I don’t know how that would change me. But I don’t believe that everything I am is built on the bad things that I’ve been through.”

Matt paused when he realized that wasn’t quite true. Was he not his father’s bloody knuckles and fighting spirit? Was he not his father’s death? Stick’s weapon? Elektra’s death? Stick’s death? His mother’s abandonment? Y/N’s disappearance? Foggy’s abandonment, Karen’s abandonment, everyone who had ever left him. . . . Every broken bone and bruise and wound and everything that hurt. . . . Wasn’t that everything that made him into who he was now?

Matt exhaled. “Maybe I am. Maybe that is what I meant. I don’t know. Shit.” But did he believe that about Y/N? That she was the Red Room and every person she’d murdered and the things she’d done that terrified Frank Castle and the kids she’d helped traffic into the Red Room and the things the Winter Soldier had done to her and all the things she couldn’t even tell him. . . .

No. Of course not. Of course he didn’t think that. Maybe he was his trauma but she wasn’t. She was friendship and the only good thing he had at Saint Agnes and the person who chased away his loneliness. She was funny in a dry way and incredibly smart. She was the person who had his back, not just before she disappeared but after — The person who pulled him from the darkness and made sure he was okay before she even considered leaving. Who stayed because he asked her to. Who joined him in his vigilantism, who felt the need to get her hands dirty the same way he did. Who felt that same sense of justice that he did, though she wouldn’t admit it. She was those things. Not the Red Room. Not everything she wouldn’t say. Not her trauma.

But God. He was an asshole for making her believe that that’s what he thought about her.

“Is that what you think?” Foggy asked, cutting through Matt’s thoughts. 

Matt shook his head. “I don’t really think that she—”

“Not Y/N,” Foggy interrupted. “You. Do you really believe that who you are is built on the bad things that you’ve been through?”

Matt paused. “Well . . . isn’t it?”

“Matt. That’s not true, and I don’t want you believing that it is,” Foggy said. “You’ve done so much that has nothing to do with the bad things you’ve been through. You’re a lawyer. You help people by defending them in court. And you’re . . . not always a good friend but you’re a good person. If you were really all the bad things that you’ve been through then you’d be a villain and a bad guy. But you didn’t let all that bad stuff change you like that. Which means who you are is not those bad things. Okay?”

Matt gave his friend a tight smile. “Thanks, Foggy.” Maybe he was right. Maybe Matt needed Foggy to be right. Maybe he needed to let himself believe it rather than dig himself into a deeper spiral like he used to do.

And yet.

You are not worth keeping my trauma.

“Now,” Foggy said, “the karmic justice of you having to deal with Y/N’s situation in exactly the same way I had to deal with your situation aside . . . Do you think she’ll find a way to go through with erasing her memories?”

“I thought she might, but now I don’t think so,” Matt answered. “Karen said Y/N reached out to her, and that she’s trying to work through things. Which means she still has all her memories.” He rolled his beer between his hands. “I was afraid she might run away again, but she met with Karen, which means she’s still here. She hasn’t left.”

Foggy nodded, thoughtful. “Okay. Well, maybe she just needs some time, y’know? Maybe find a way to make it clear to her that you’re here when she wants to come back. Doesn’t mean you’re not owed an apology for what she said, but maybe she didn’t mean it. I mean, I don’t think you meant some of the things you’ve said to me in the past.” A beat passed and Foggy continued, “I hope you didn’t mean some of the things you’ve said to me in the past.”

“No, Foggy,” Matt agreed. “I didn’t mean them.”

“Okay, well, give her a chance to apologize and just be there for her when she wants to come back. There isn’t much else you can do. Trying to tell her what to do probably won’t get you very far. I know that never worked on you,” Foggy said.

Matt took a deep breath. He knew Foggy was right. Neither he nor Y/N liked being told what to do very much. Every choice they’ve both made was ultimately their own. Y/N would have to find her own way there — but he’d be there when she needed it. Even if he was still angry with her. 

Matt took out his phone and stood from his chair. “Could you give me a few minutes?”

“Sure man. Take as long as you need.”

Matt dialed Y/N’s number and stepped outside. She didn’t answer. He didn’t expect her to. 

Instead, he left a message.

A month passed.

When all this started, after your first session with the Doc, you’d called Fury and explained that you thought you were okay to return back to work after your kidnapping, but you needed more time to recover from it — not physically, but mentally. Although the source of the trauma was a lie, the reason for needing more time off wasn’t. Fury understood and gave you the time that you’d needed.

Steve had called not long after. Not only did you take time off from work, but you started staying in your own apartment rather than Avengers Tower. You couldn’t bear to see Bucky, not now, not when you still felt like killing him might bring you some peace. Steve must have wondered where you’d gone. Where you were.

You didn’t answer him. You couldn’t bring yourself to. You weren’t in a place to answer the phone and pretend like you were fine. You knew Steve wouldn’t expect you to be, knew Fury probably told him and the others why you’d taken more time off. . . . But talking to him was still a type of pretending. And you just couldn’t. Especially not when thoughts of killing his best friend, brutally and without mercy, pervaded your thoughts.

You wondered if Steve called Matt at any time to ask about you. You wondered what Matt would say.

 

(He did. When Y/N didn’t answer Steve’s calls, Steve called Matt. He was just worried about her. She’d left so abruptly the other day when he asked her out, and then by the next day Fury was telling them that she was taking more time off work to recover from what had happened to her. And Steve had waited for her to come home so he could talk to her, but she never did. And then she didn’t answer his calls. He called Matt because he thought that maybe she was staying with him. And if she wasn’t, he’d know where she was. 

Matt had told Steve that Y/N was staying at her old apartment. Steve didn’t even realize she’d kept her old apartment. Steve had asked for her address, but Matt refused to give it to him. Told him to give her some time.)

(In truth, Matt had panicked the minute Steve called him asking for Y/N. Because that had meant that she wasn’t going to work and this was before Matt knew that Y/N had remained in town. This was when he still worried about her running away. He thought that maybe she really had.

When Steve had asked him for Y/N’s address, Matt didn’t give it to him. If Y/N really was gone, then she wouldn’t be there when Steve showed up, and Steve would go to Matt again, and Matt wouldn’t have an explanation. If Y/N was there . . . Well, Matt figured that she wouldn’t want Steve bothering her. The fact that she wasn’t answering Steve’s calls should have told him as much. 

Matt thought about going to Y/N’s apartment. He thought about it obsessively. But he didn’t. He told himself it was because he knew she didn’t want him there — and not because he didn’t want to confirm if she really was gone. If she really did run away.)

Matt had called you a few times after your fight, but you hadn’t answered any of them, and he stopped calling soon after. But a week later, he called again. You didn’t answer, but unlike the other times, he left a voicemail.

You refused to listen to it.

After a month, you had finally gotten through all the facts and events of your life with the Doc. And now came the analyzing, the dealing with and the dissecting of everything you’d been through. Sometimes you talked about what you wanted to talk about, focused on what you wanted to focus on. Other times the Doc took the wheel, driving you to things you’d maybe rather avoid. Unlike the story of your life, this part was not linear. It went where it needed to go. And sometimes where it needed to go was not where you wanted to go.

“Have you talked to Matt yet?” Doc asked you softly. As much as you’d hated her in the beginning, you had to admit that she had a gentle touch. It didn’t make you like some of the things she had to say any better, but her endless patience and kindness paired well with your stubbornness and aura of violence.

You avoided her eyes. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because of what he said.”

“What did he say?”

You gritted your teeth. You knew she knew what he said, because she’d seen the memory. But you always had to explain these things with your own words. “That if I take my trauma away, I’m not me anymore.”

“That’s not what he said.” Doc’s voice was gentle but firm. 

“That’s what he meant.”

“You don’t know that. Do you want to see what he said?” Doc asked. 

You didn’t really. You didn’t want to see Matt again, didn’t want to have to re-live that memory again, but you did want to prove the Doc right, and so that need won out.

“Fine. Show me what he said.”

You took a moment to close your eyes, letting the Doc work her magic. You opened them when you could smell Matt’s apartment rather than the citrus smell of the Doc’s therapy room. 

It was like the scene was frozen in a tableau and you were waiting for the Doc to press play. Yourself and Matt stood before you. You had tears running down your face, but your expression had morphed into something hard and determined. Matt was gripping your arm, his own expression. . .

The only word you could find to describe it was desperate.

“You can’t just erase what you want,” Matt said when the Doc let the memory play. “You have to learn to live with the memories, like we all do. If you erase a part of yourself you wouldn’t be you anymore.”

Hot shame ran through you, unlike the first time when all you had felt was rage. When Doc paused the memory, you said, “See?”

She looked at you. “See what? What am I seeing?”

“He said if I erased a part of myself, I wouldn’t be me anymore,” you repeated. “If I erased my trauma, I wouldn’t be me anymore. He’s saying that my trauma makes me who I am. Like I said before.”

“But he didn’t say that,” the Doc pointed out. “He said ‘a part of yourself’. He didn’t say ‘your trauma’. As a telepath, I know that there’s a truth to what he’s saying. Memories are weaved and interconnected with each other in delicate ways. It’s not so easy to pick and choose things to be cut out without affecting the whole web. But the idea that your trauma is what makes you who you are is not what bothers you about this. Because part of you already believes that, and has for a long time.”

You stayed quiet. You didn’t deny that’s how you felt. 

The Doc took you out of the memory and out of Matt’s apartment and had you sitting in her therapy room again, on that soft couch with many pillows to hold and the calming smell of citrus surrounding you. 

“In fact,” the Doc continued, “you believe that so much that you consider the person you used to be before the Red Room to be dead, don’t you?”

She is, you thought. In all the ways that matter, she is. She’s trapped in that Red Room, in that red room, and she won’t ever leave.

The Doc sighed gently through her nose. “Here’s the thing. Trauma does make up parts of who we are. That’s the hard truth. It can change us and shape us. For reasons that I won’t get into . . .  something traumatic in my life pushed me to be a pacifist. Would I be a pacifist if that trauma wasn’t there? I don’t know. But being a pacifist is a large part of my identity, now. A large part of what I believe in. But that doesn’t mean my trauma makes me who I am. It has shaped me, for better or for worse — and mostly for worse, don’t ever let someone tell you that trauma is ever a good thing. I think it’s . . . how we choose to respond to that trauma that makes us who we are. Not the trauma itself. Do you choose to do better? Or do you choose to be worse? That’s all. And it’s important to understand that everyone changes over their lifetime, even without trauma. That’s just a part of living. But you have some choice in how things change you. Heroes and villains often have similar backstories, have you ever noticed that? Death, loss, trauma. But they walk very different paths. They start in the same place, but they choose their own path.”

“I’m not a hero,” you mumbled.

“How would you define a hero?”

You thought for a moment. You thought about Steve. “Someone good. Someone with unshakeable morals. Someone who helps people.”

“You help people,” she pointed out. “You don’t think that makes you good? And ‘unshakeable morals’ is a high standard that would be difficult for anyone to uphold. Even Captain America.”

“He seems pretty perfect to me.”

“His best friend was brainwashed by Hydra into being a weapon used to murder,” the Doc said, and your hands gripped onto the bottom of the couch at the mention of Bucky. “You don’t like that the Avengers trust him to be in their group. How do you reconcile that with Steve’s ‘unshakeable morals’?”

You didn’t know how to answer that because you really couldn’t reconcile those things in your head. Steve was Steve. Steve was kind and good and a hero. Bucky was the Winter Soldier, a monster that had beaten you and was a walking reminder of the Red Room and all the trauma you found there. You couldn’t make these things fit together in your mind.

“Does Matt have ‘unshakeable morals’?” the Doc asked.

Your teeth gritted together at the mention of him. “Matt doesn’t kill.”

“You don’t kill,” the Doc pointed out.

“I used to kill,” you reminded her.

“But you don’t anymore.” 

You continued to stare at the floor, not looking at her. After a moment, the Doc continued,

“We can pick this back up another time, because this wasn’t my point. I said you’re not upset about the idea that your trauma makes you who you are. You’re upset because you believe that that’s what Matt thinks.”

You shut your eyes.

“You don’t care what you think about yourself,” the Doc went on. “And you don’t care about what other people think of you. In fact, you never really have, not even before the Red Room. But Matt’s opinion of you matters. Do you want to expand on that?”

No, you didn’t, but you knew the Doc wasn’t really asking. You get out of this what you put in, she had told you in the beginning. You could refuse to talk about things all you want, but then you wouldn’t be getting any better.

You opened your eyes. You kept them on the floor, on the plush carpet with its swirls of colour. “What Matt thinks of me makes it real,” you admitted. “I can think whatever about myself, and maybe it’s not true, because I’m too close to understand, or something. And people think what they want to think about me. I’ve been a lot of things. I’ve pretended to be a lot of things. I’ve been bitchy. I’ve been an asshole. I’ve been a monster. I’ve liked it that way. It never mattered what anyone thought because they don’t know me.” You paused. “Matt knows me. I think he’s the only person who does. He’s the only person I’m close with. The only person I trust. Even when I didn’t know it was him, when he was the only person to hold out his hand, when he was the only person who said that my soul was worth saving, I believed him. I believed in that. And when he called me a monster, that became real, too. And it hurt. It hurt that there was someone close enough to me who could rip me apart from the inside. I didn’t like it. But I couldn’t stop myself from feeling that way. When Matt said he wanted me to stay in New York, I stayed. When he told me that when I first came back into his life, when he didn’t believe it was me because he thought he didn’t deserve to have me back, I felt worth something. I felt worth something to him. When for a long time I didn’t think he’d want me, after the Red Room.”

You paused.

“If he looks at me and sees my trauma, it makes it real,” you said, quieter than before. “It’s one thing for me to believe that. But I couldn’t bear it if he saw all of that. Saw all the blood I took in service of the Red Room. Saw the monster they turned me into. Worst of all, even though I haven’t told him, if he saw, if he saw—” You felt bile rise to your throat as you recalled the memories. The memories of the red room. “—saw that I am damaged. In a way that can’t be undone. See the— the—” Hands. The hands. “—Like I’ve been marked—”

You felt like you were going to throw up, and it wasn’t the first time you did so in the Doc’s room, so you reached for the bowl on the table before the panic and trauma could leave your throat—

“But he wouldn’t see those things. He’s blind.”

You froze, your eyes narrowing. You brought your hand back and stared at the Doc, at the slight amused tilt to her lips. A flash of anger ran through you. How could she joke at a time like this? “You’re not funny.”

“I’m a little funny.”

And then you realized what she did. She distracted you. Threw you off so you’d leave the memory you’d latched on to. 

You took a breath. Tried to do what the Doc had suggested, to acknowledge the thought, the memory, and then let it pass over you. Like you were a heavy rock in a river. Letting water wash over you without being washed away. 

“The truth is, you don’t know what Matt thinks and you don’t know what he meant when he said that,” the Doc said. “I could tell you what I think he meant but there’s no guarantee that I’m right, either. You can only know if you talk to him about it.”

But you still weren’t ready to face Matt again. What the Doc was saying about everything was rational and yet you couldn’t get yourself to believe it. You re-lived that argument again and again in your mind, and each time Matt’s words felt like a burning sear. It felt like he was so against you finding a way to rid yourself of your trauma, and you couldn’t get yourself to believe anything else. You couldn’t bear to be around him again. Not yet.

At the end of your session, the Doc asked if you were okay to start having appointments once a week rather than once a day, and you agreed. It was time to start transitioning back into the real world.

Well. Real-adjacent for you, that is.

You worked on steadying your breathing as you rode the elevator up Avengers Tower. Worked on preparing yourself for acknowledging thoughts of killing Bucky and letting them pass over you, should you see him again.

When the elevator door opened and you walked further onto the floor, you noticed Steve reading on the couch. No one else was there, from what you could tell.

You cleared your throat and prayed your voice would come out steady. “Hey.”

Steve looked up and his eyes widened slightly. “Hey.” He closed his book and stood, coming over to stand in front of you.

“I’m sorry I . . . didn’t answer any of your calls,” you said slowly. 

Steve shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize,” he said. “But you know you could have told me if you were still having a hard time.” He didn’t say it like ‘You should have told me’, but rather like he wouldn’t have been offended if you told him you needed space. “I would have understood.”

A part of you felt guilty for not answering his calls, but you didn’t trust yourself to answer them then. “I thought I was okay to come back to work. But I got back here and realized I wasn’t. It had nothing to do with you,” you added hastily. “I know I left kind of abruptly during our last conversation.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, and a bit of pink tinged his cheeks. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” 

“I do want to go out with you.”

Steve’s eyebrows raised.

“That’s what you were asking me, wasn’t it?” you continued.

“Well, I— Yes,” he settled on. 

“Okay,” you nodded. “How about dinner Friday night? You pick the place.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He smiled and it was wide. 

“Oh, and just for future reference,” you added, “I’m really not a fan of the ballet.”

You’d chosen something much more modest than the dress attire you usually preferred. It was an off the shoulder, ruffley dress that went down to your ankles, in a pattern of pinks and creams that resembled flowers. Gentle. Feminine in a soft way. Everything to represent your good girl persona that you portrayed for the Avengers. 

You met Steve in the hallway and had to admit, he looked good in a suit. He complimented you and told you you looked pretty, and offered you his arm before getting into the elevator. 

The two of you chatted in the car on the way to the restaurant. When you got there and let Steve help you out, you realized how fancy the restaurant was, and you were impressed. Steve clearly put some thought into this date.

He led you inside to the table he had reserved and pulled out your chair so you could sit down. Once sitting himself, Steve reached for the wine list and began looking it over.

Panic sparked in your chest.

If he asked you what kind of wine you wanted, would you say yes? Would you tell him your favourite? Would you drink a glass, two glasses, three glasses, and relish the way it numbed your mind and took you far away from the memories that constantly plagued you?

It would be so easy. It would be so easy to just let him order and drink it like everything was normal. So easy to return yourself to old habits. It would make everything so much easier.

But.

What would Matt think?

You took a sip of the water the waiter had already poured for you and tried not to bite your teeth down around the edge of the glass. You didn’t want to see him and hadn’t seen him for five weeks and yet you still could not escape the truth you’d admitted to the Doc: that what Matt thought of you mattered, it mattered so much.

It’s why you went to the extreme of erasing your memories. Returning to drugs and alcohol would be an easier solution, and one not so permanent and changing. But you knew Matt wouldn’t approve of that. That was it. So you tried to find another solution. But he didn’t approve of that one, either. And so you found yourself unable to seek another telepath who’d probably erase your memories if you paid the right price. No, you went back to the one telepath you knew would still say no. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Every second you continued to let Steve look at that wine list was an internal war with yourself. 

God it would be so easy. It would be so easy.

FUCK.

“What kind of wine do you like?” Steve asked, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “Red or white? Or rosé?”

Moment of truth. Which one was your favourite? Red was bold and sexy. White was safe and sweet. Rosé was a unique blend of the two, maybe that one was the best to signal to him that you were a good girl but also fun and adventurous—

“Actually, I have a bit of a headache. Do you mind if I just have water?”

You wondered if that was just about the hardest thing you’ve ever made yourself say. It felt like it, in that moment. 

“Of course, I don’t mind,” Steve said. When the waiter came and Steve looked at him to hand him back the wine list, you blew out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “I think we’re just going to stick with water, thanks.”

When the waiter left, you said, “You can have a drink if you want to, don’t let me stop you.”

Steve gave you a smile and shrugged. “To be honest, I wasn’t even sure what I was going to order. I’m not really a wine guy.”

This made you smile. It was a thoughtful gesture. 

Slowly, you unclenched your hands in your lap and hoped you hadn’t been digging your nails into your flesh hard enough to draw blood.

“So,” Steve began, and took a sip of his water, “how’s Matt?”

Acknowledge the thought. Let it pass over you. Acknowledge the thought. Let it pass over you. Acknowledge the thought, let it pass over you—

“Fine,” you answered, thankfully even. “He’s a busy defence lawyer so I haven’t seen him much lately. But that’s okay. He’s doing important stuff, you know. How’s the team been since I’ve been gone? Any interesting missions?”

Steve took the bait to switch topics and you were grateful. The two of you chatted for a while waiting for your meals and you felt . . . good. Things were going good. You weren’t drinking. You were sober and things were okay. You were getting through this.

Your phone rang in your clutch and you gave Steve a sheepish look. “Sorry,” you said as you reached in to turn your phone off.

A strange feeling spiked in you when you saw the name caller ID was Foggy Nelson. 

Foggy never called you. The two of you weren’t really close, you only hung out with each other when Matt was there. 

Why was he calling you? Maybe . . . maybe it wasn’t strange, maybe he really was just calling to hang out, maybe Karen mentioned to him that the three of you could hang out without Matt, maybe—

Steve must have seen the hesitation on your face, because he said, “You can answer it if you need to.”

You looked up at him. “I just— It’s Matt’s friend, and he usually doesn’t call me, so I’m just. . . .”

“Answer it,” Steve said, giving you a smile to show he wasn’t mad. “I don’t mind.”

You gave him a tight smile in return. “Sorry. It’ll just be a sec.” You picked up the phone and held it to your ear, fighting back a hiss as you said, “Hey this really isn’t a good—”

“Matt’s not breathing.”

Something shattered in you. 

You couldn’t think. You were sure all the blood had left your body. 

Not breathing

Not breathing

Matt’s not breathing

“What?!”

Foggy’s voice was urgent and he spoke quickly. “I found Matt unconscious in his apartment and he’s gasping like he can’t breathe— Claire won’t be able to get here in time and I know you can get here right away— Please hurry, Y/N, I don’t know how much longer he has—”

“I’ll be there.” You hung up and felt like your head was spinning. You stood and Steve stood with you.

“Everything ok—”

“Matt’s hurt,” were the words that came out of your mouth. “I have to go. I have to— God, I’m sorry, Steve, but I have to leave.”

“It’s okay, go,” Steve said, nodding. “Do you need me to call the driver—?”

“No, no,” you said. Panic thrummed fast and painful in your chest. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.” That was the last thing you gave him before you turned and ran out of the restaurant.

In the moments between getting outside and teleporting in a discreet place, your mind was racing.

God, why the fuck did you stay away for so long? What was the reason? It seemed to matter so little now. 

If Matt died— God, fuck, if Matt died— How could that be the last conversation you had with him? When you said those awful things? Fuck, when you told him he wasn’t worth anything— Is that what you said? You might as well have said that. Did you just give up the last five weeks you might have spent with him? For what? For what?

Oh, God, oh, God—

You teleported into Matt’s apartment, and there he was lying, bruised and bloody and unconscious, his body hidden behind the blurs of your tears—

“What do we do?” came Foggy’s panicked voice. “Do something!”

You snapped into action, leaning down and putting your hands on Matt. You listened to the way he was gasping.

“Help me,” you ordered, and Foggy helped you peel the top part of Matt’s suit down to bare his torso. You felt his body and pressed your ear to his chest.

“He has a collapsed lung, I have to poke a hole in his chest so the trapped air can escape,” you said, and you wondered if saying it out loud was more for you or for Foggy. 

You pulled your dress high over your leg and gathered the skirt around your waist, not worried about scandalizing Foggy as you reached for the knife strapped to the inside of your thigh. You grabbed it and all the memories of the textbooks you read and informational videos you watched came back to you, clearer than it ever had before. Your hand might as well have been the hand of the surgeon you watched on the pneumothorax video as you counted his ribs, braced your hand on his torso, then cut a small hole in the right place between his ribs. 

The gasping sound ceased as Matt inhaled deeply and exhaled successfully. Inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. Began breathing normally.

“Oh thank God,” Foggy breathed in a whoosh.

You stared, frozen, knife still raised.

“Y/N?”

He almost died. He had almost been dead. He almost died and the last thing you said to him was calling him worthless.

You dropped your knife and it clattered to the ground as you hurried to your feet and to the kitchen sink and you vomited.

You took a moment to rinse out the sink when you were done, then wiped your mouth and turned around, sliding down the side of the cabinets. 

Then you sobbed.

It was parts relief and parts guilt and you couldn’t stop yourself from crying in loud, messy gasps, tears pouring from your eyes in an unending stream.

Face buried in your hands, you didn’t notice Foggy coming over until he sat next to you. There was a moment of hesitation, then you felt his arms wrap around you and your head rested on his shoulder.

“C’mon, it’s okay,” came Foggy’s voice. “Matt’s okay. He’s breathing. He’s done this a bunch of times, he’ll be fine. I think he even said he dealt with a collapsed lung, once. He’s alright.” Foggy’s hand stroked your arm.

After a moment, your sobs subsided. Foggy said, “C’mon, we should move him onto the couch.”

Pulling yourself together, you helped Foggy move Matt onto the couch, take off his Daredevil suit, and put him in comfortable clothes. It worried you that he stayed unconscious through all of that, but Foggy didn’t seem worried, so you held onto that.

When you were done, the two of you sat in the chairs across from the couch in the living room.

You stared at Matt’s sleeping form, exhausted from the adrenaline leaving you and all the crying you did. 

Foggy’s voice broke the silence after a few moments, like he needed to fill it with something else. “So, uh. You look nice. Where were you?”

“Uh.” Your head was still spinning; you were still frazzled and worried about Matt. “I was on a date.”

Foggy was very surprised by her answer, and so he couldn’t stop the word from leaving his mouth, “What?” From everything he’d seen between Matt and Y/N, it was clear to him that the two of them were stupidly in love with each other even if they both didn’t realize that yet. So the fact that she was on a date, with someone who was not Matt— “Why?”

You were still having a hard time processing things right now. You stared at Foggy, your mouth slightly parted. What did he mean ‘why’? Did you need a good reason to go on a date with someone? “. . .I don’t know how to answer that.”

“With who?” Foggy followed up.

“Um. Steve Rogers.”

“Captain America? Damn.”

You continued to stare at him, confused at why he was reacting this way. “. . .Are you in love with me? Because this is a wildly inappropriate time to confess. Your best friend is unconscious.”

Foggy’s eyes narrowed as she came to the wrong conclusion. “No, I’m not in lo— I have a girlfriend! You know that I have a girlfriend!”

She simply continued to look at him, and then looked back at Matt, as if this conversation exhausted her too much. Foggy decided he could save any follow-up questions for another time.

After another little bit, you told Foggy he should go home and rest; you would watch over Matt. It took him some convincing, but he finally conceded. He told you to call him if you needed him, even if it was the midnight of the night, and he left.

You continued to watch Matt. To listen to his breathing, mostly steady if somewhat strained.

You don’t know why you remembered it in that moment. The unopened voicemail sitting in your phone’s inbox. Matt’s voicemail that he sent you a month ago.

You took out your phone and found it, pressing play and holding your phone to your ear.

“Hey.”

It had been a while since you heard his voice. The idea that you might never have heard his voice again cracked something in you.

There was a pause, as if he was figuring out what to say. “I know we aren’t talking right now. I know you don’t want to talk to me. I know we both . . . said some things. But I wanted you to know that . . . I know that the bad things you’ve been through doesn’t make you who you are. That isn’t what I meant. I was just . . . worried. I just want you to be okay. And I want you to know that . . . I’m here. When you want to talk. If you want to talk to me again.” He took a breath. “I care about you. A lot. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

When your voicemail box signalled the end of the message, you put the phone down and cried. And cried. 

The first thing Matt noticed when he woke up was that his whole body hurt. But that wasn’t really unusual for him, especially considering the fight he got into that he barely had the strength to drag himself back to his apartment after. 

The second thing he noticed was that he was lying on the couch. He tried to remember if he had passed out here or on the floor.

The third thing he noticed was the soft clothes on his body, not his Daredevil suit, so someone must have changed him out of it. Foggy, maybe, or Karen—

And the fourth and final thing Matt noticed, was Y/N.

He recognized her smell, the shape of her body, the sound of her breath. She had moved one of the living room chairs closer to the couch and was now curled up in what must have been an uncomfortable position, sleeping. Her eyes were screwed shut tight, her expression pinched, and her whole body tense. 

What was she doing here? Was she okay? So many questions ran through his mind, but the loudest words in his head were,

She’s here. She’s here.

Y/N shifted, and by the small intake of breath Matt could tell that she was awake now. Matt could tell Y/N was staring at him.

He didn’t dare breathe.

“Hi,” she finally whispered, barely more than a breath.

“Hi,” he whispered back.

“How are you feeling?”

Matt tensed. Her voice sounded wrecked. “You know. Hurts but I’m okay.” He wanted to know why she sounded like she had been crying. “What happened?”

And then her face broke and a sob left her mouth, and suddenly she was up and on the couch, wrapping herself around him, holding him so tight it hurt in his injured state but he didn’t worry about that, he just let her press her face into the crook of his neck and cry. She was shaking. He wrapped his arms around her back and braced her against him.

“Foggy called me,” she sobbed. “He said you weren’t breathing.”

Oh.

She was crying because of him. Because he got hurt.

Dimly in the back of your mind you thought you should be holding him more gently, you should be careful of his injuries, but the only thing you could think was that he was okay and he was not dead and you never wanted to let him go again.

“I’m sorry, Matt,” you sobbed. “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean what I said. You mean everything to me.”

She wailed, and the sound broke his heart and tears sprung to his eyes and his face crumpled. He squeezed her to him and he didn’t care if it pressed on his chest and made it hard to breathe.

“I don’t know what I would do if you were dead,” she cried. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed away for so long. I’m sorry the last thing I said to you was so fucking awful. I was in pain and I didn’t understand what I was saying but that’s not an excuse. If you had died and that was the last thing I said I would’ve never forgiven myself.”

Matt had never been sure. What he meant to her. Since he got her back after she’d been missing for twenty years, it was difficult to say where things stood between them. Besides her withdrawal delirium that prompted the You were the only person I ever really loved, she never said these things out loud. 

But maybe he was looking for words when he should have been looking for actions. The way she risked her life to save his. The way she stayed to help him when he was in the darkest place of his life, when he said so many terrible things to her and tried to push her away like he did with everyone else. The way she stayed in New York because he asked her to. The way she got sober because he asked her to.

The way she kept all her horrible, traumatic memories. Because he asked her to.

And he had kept asking himself why when the reason was so very clear. She cared. She cared about him. He was worth something to her. He meant something to her. And she was a broken, sobbing mess at the idea that he could have died.

I don’t know what I would do if you were dead. There was a time where you wanted to say those words out loud but you couldn’t. When you couldn’t let Matt see your heart that way. When you still lived behind walls and you weren’t ready to take them down.

Now you said the words freely, let them pour from your mouth, let the bricks lay scattered at your feet, let your heart be bare and raw. Because you had to say the words. He had to know.

“A lot happened when I was unconscious, huh?” came Matt’s voice, and it brought a foreign sort of relief and amusement to your chest and you couldn’t stop the small laugh that left your mouth. 

But it ceased when the guilt returned. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I didn’t want to hurt you like that.”

“I accept your apology,” Matt said. “I know you didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean a lot of things I said when I was struggling, too.”

Some weight left your shoulders and your sobbing began to subside, and you breathed in Matt’s smell and felt grateful that he was alive. He stroked your back and you felt comforted by the motion.

And then you pulled back so you could look at him. There were tears running down his face as well and you let yourself wipe some of them away with your hand. Tried not to let yourself overthink the gesture. “I know I’m not . . . good at saying what I feel. I think it’s because I haven’t felt anything for a really long time. Even before the alcohol and the drugs. I didn’t have the luxury of feeling. If I let myself feel I’d fall apart. So I did everything I could not to feel. And when I got the chance, I kept myself numb. I don’t even know if I was good at talking about my feelings when I was a kid. I don’t think I was. I think I’ve been running from myself longer than I even remember.”

A memory graced you briefly. Of being fifteen and realizing something you felt. Something you were afraid of saying out loud. Something you were afraid to tell Matt.

“But I’m going to . . . try,” you continued. “To say what I feel. Not when I’m in withdrawal and sick with delirium and too weak to stop myself. Not when I’m angry or upset and things come out wrong. Something I choose to say.” You paused, collecting yourself. “You’re my family, Matt. You’re the only family I have. You know me. I think you’re the only person who does. If I lost you I’d be alone.”

You’d thought a lot about if anyone really knew and understood you and realized that of course it was Matt. Even though you’d changed so much and only recently come back into his life. He was the only person who knew you from before, the only person capable of seeing you past the monstrous mask you wore. But more than that. When he didn’t even know it was you, he was the only person to reach out his hand and ask you not to kill. To attempt to save your soul. There was still so much he didn’t know and so much you hadn’t told him, but he still knew you. He (metaphorically) looked at you and told you that even though you were different (even though he was different), there were still parts of you that were the same. He saw that. And you were physically incapable of lying to him. You didn’t believe anyone else would be capable of seeing more than what you wanted them to see. You the pretender. You could not hide yourself from him. He was the only person capable of knowing you in the ways you didn’t want. To be truly known. All of it. That made him your family and you didn’t know if anyone else could come close to that.

And that knowledge fucking terrified you but you didn’t know how to say that part out loud.

Family.

You’re my family.

How many times had he thought the same thing? When they were just two orphans in Saint Agnes, when all they had were each other. When she went missing, when they finally pronounced her dead and had her funeral, when he felt like he lost a part of himself, like when he lost his father. When she left a void he didn’t know how to fill anymore. When he considered Foggy his family but it never felt the same.

You know me. I think you’re the only person who does. It was the same for him. Besides Stick, for a long time Y/N was the only person who knew about his abilities. Foggy was his friend and he knew Matt in most of the ways that mattered, but he didn’t know about the Daredevil part of him for the longest time. And when he knew, he didn’t understand it. There was a time in Matt’s life when he thought Elektra was the only person who saw him for what he truly was — but that wasn’t right, either. She saw the violence in him but not the good. She couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t kill. Both Foggy and Elektra saw parts of him but not the whole.

Y/N saw all of it. When she returned to his life, she saw the Daredevil part of him and she understood and accepted it. More than that, though she killed like Elektra killed, she stopped when he asked. She understood the point behind it — maybe not the value of human life but the way killing harms your soul. And when Matt was close to breaking his rule, she pulled him back. She who had killed so many and didn’t see the value in human life. She saw it was important to him and tried to stop him from making a choice that he could not take back. 

Elektra had once said to him, “You hide from yourself. You don’t let anyone in.” And it was true. And he’d tried to let Elektra in but there were parts of himself she refused to see. When Y/N came back into his life, he didn’t let her in; she tore her way in. She wouldn’t let him hide from her and she wouldn’t let him hide from himself. She kept reminding him of who he was when he was so broken and she found a way to keep him from losing himself. And though not killing Fisk had ultimately been his own choice, she had never left his side. Would have let him kill Fisk if that was his choice. And would have stayed to remind him of who he was had he done it. She never tried to tell him who he was, like Elektra or Foggy or Karen, who saw him in different and incomplete ways — Y/N just knew. And kept reminding him until he saw it for himself.

If I lost you I’d be alone. That’s what he was so fucking terrified of. And he needed her to know that.

Matt’s jaw worked but he nodded. Then he took a breath. “I was afraid of losing you. I lost you once before. I didn’t want to do that again.” At some point in the hugging and tangling yourself around Matt, his hand found your upper thigh, and he gripped it as he spoke. It was a comforting pressure on your body. He used his other hand to hold yours, and you held it tightly. “I was afraid you’d run away or do something reckless you hadn’t thought through . . . like erasing your memories.” He pressed his lips together, pausing to sharply inhale through his nose. “Maybe it’s selfish to be afraid that you’d lose memories of us when you just want your pain to be gone—”

You pressed your hand to his chest as you interrupted him, “No, you were right. It would hurt me, too, if you did something like that.”

In the hours after Matt did not die, you got some clarity on the whole situation. You tried to see it from his perspective. What you would do if he wanted to erase all his bad memories. If he told you he’d rather . . . rather be a blank slate than deal with the trauma. It would hurt you, if he made it seem like your memories together meant so little.

Your heart seemed to be beating really fast in your chest, a forgotten but not unfamiliar feeling whispering in the back of your mind, with your hand over his heart and his hand on your thigh and holding your hand, with the two of you so close—

The feeling disappeared as soon as it arrived, before you could label it, the moment you remembered that there were other things you wanted to say. You took your hand back and shifted your body so your feet were on the floor. You kept your hand wrapped around Matt’s.

“I need to . . . ask you—”

“I didn’t mean what you thought I meant,” Matt said, anticipating the direction of your question but not quite what you were about to ask. “I don’t think all you are is just the trauma you’ve experienced. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry if it came off that way.”

“I know,” you said. “I listened to your message. I didn’t listen to it until tonight, but I heard it. I know that’s not what you meant. But I still . . . I have to ask you. . . .”

She swallowed, and she was trembling again. Matt held her hand tighter, held it with both of his hands, and he stroked the back of her hand and her wrist though she was turned away from him.

“I want to know . . . what you see when you look at me.” She said it like it was an effort to get the words out. “If you see . . . the blood . . . of all that I’ve done . . . for the Red Room. . . .” Her voice became a whisper. “The things you don’t know. . . . Can you still see . . . the ways I am. . .” She seemed to choke on the word, unable to get it out for a moment. “. . .ruined?”

The things you don’t know.

He always suspected that there were lots she had not told him yet.  He wanted to ask, but he knew that this wasn’t the time for it. Knew that that wasn’t what she was asking of him.

She seemed very far away from him now, and he didn’t want her there, didn’t want her to live in memories, wanted her here with him, and so he said,

“Well, first of all, I don’t see those things because I’m blind.”

Laughter bubbled up sharply and unexpectedly and pulled you from the memory that had grabbed hold of you. “Fuck off,” you breathed through the laugh, and you leaned back onto the couch and let yourself look at Matt again. There was a small smile on his face, like he was glad he was successful in pulling you from that dark place. He still held your hand and your wrist with both of his hands.

“I don’t see those things,” he finally said in a serious voice. “I just see my oldest friend, trying hard to make things better for herself.”

Something heavy left you, and the relief attached brought tears to your eyes again. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

“And what about me?” Matt asked. “Do you see . . . bloody knuckles and . . . someone who doesn’t know when to quit fighting?” His tone was light but you knew his question was not.

“I told you what I see,” you said. “You’re my family. That’s all.” You didn’t have the words to explain all that you saw of him. You were always a woman of action, not words. But you hoped that he would understand. That him being your family meant that he meant everything to you.

Matt nodded. Her admission meant something to him, but he still wasn’t sure if . . . he believed it about himself. If he was more than what he said.

But that didn’t matter right now. Y/N was here, and she was okay, for the most part, and that’s all that mattered.

“I started going to therapy,” she said, and his eyebrows raised.

“Really?”

She nodded. “The telepath that I went to . . . she’s a therapist. She uses her telepathy to help people. It’s why she refused to erase my memories.”

Matt absentmindedly stroked her wrist and hand. “Is it helping?”

She thought for a moment. “I think so. It’s not easy. It’s so fucking far from easy. Sometimes I think it’s just about the worst thing I’ve been through. But it is. Helping. Things feel better now than before.” 

“That’s good.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m proud of you, Y/N.”

You smiled at him, and the feeling of lightness that rushed through you was almost overwhelming.

Fuck, what a concept it was to truly feel again. You were so used to numbing the pain and the grief and the trauma that you forgot you numbed yourself to joy, too. To all other good emotions. It had been a long, long time since you felt this way. You’d forgotten what it felt like. And the intensity of it brought tears to your eyes again but you didn’t mind.

You leaned forward and you hugged Matt again for a second, just needing it for a moment, just needing to remind yourself that he was here. With you.

And you were not in the Red Room.

(Not physically.)

When you pulled back this time, you noticed Matt grasping some of your skirt in his hand. His eyebrows knitted together.

“What are you wearing?”

“Oh, y’know,” you let yourself joke for the first time in a while, “I like dressing up when I go save my friend’s life.” 

“Sure.”

“I had a date tonight,” you explained.

“With Steve?”

“Yes. Had to leave before dinner. You owe me a meal.”

Matt looked like he was considering this. “How nice was the restaurant?”

“Pretty nice.”

“You know I’m a defence lawyer that gets paid in muffin baskets, right?”

“Tough. I’m taking you for all you’re worth, Murdock.”

Your stomach growled in a moment of great comedic timing, and Matt chuckled.

“C’mon, let’s get you something to eat.”

You looked at the non-existent watch on your wrist. “It’s like, three AM.” That was a guess, but you couldn’t be that fair off, right?

“It’s the city that never sleeps, we’ll find something. Just give me a minute to change.” Matt stood.

And made a noise like it pained him.

You were up immediately, putting his arm around your shoulders and wrapping your arm around his waist to brace his weight against you. “Maybe we should just stay here.”

He breathed out in a sound that might have been a scoff. “You’re so motherly when you’re sober.”

You rolled your eyes and fought down an amused smile. “I will leave you here and take your wallet.”

“Stealing from a blind man, that’s not very nice.”

You breathed a laugh through your nose, then looked to his kitchen. “We could eat here.”

“I don’t really have much in my fridge.” Matt knew he should eat better, but between how busy he was being a lawyer and being Daredevil it didn’t give him a lot of time to make proper meals.

“Okay, we’ll go to my place, then.” 

She gave him a moment, like giving him a chance to prepare himself,

 

and then he felt his surroundings change from his apartment to a different one. 

She set him down at what he could tell was the table in her kitchen. She went to the fridge and started pulling out things while Matt took a moment to take in her place.

It smelled like her.

“So this is it, huh?” Matt said.

You looked up at him, leaving your thoughts of what you should make for the two of you for a moment. “Hm?” 

“Your apartment.”

Your eyes narrowed as realization hit you. “Have you never been here before?”

“No.”

“Huh. I guess not.” There wasn’t any particular reason you had never brought him to your apartment. For the longest time, it just wasn’t home to you. It was just a place you slept. A place you kept your alcohol and drugs. Just a roof over your head and nothing more. 

The Doc encouraged you to change that. Decorate. Make it a safe place. Make it a place that felt like a home. So you did. You painted the walls with colour and you bought things to fill the space. In the places between your visits with the Doc and your outings with Karen, when you had nothing to do but sit in your apartment, it did make it better somewhat. You bought pillows and blankets and little lights to hang up in your bay window and it became a place you liked to read whatever smutty romance book Karen had recommended.

You fought down a smirk at the explicit nature of the last book you’d read and began chopping some ingredients for omelettes.

“Wait, you’re making us something? You can cook?” Matt teased.

You snorted. “I am an adult.” You shredded some cheese. You paused before saying, “. . .My therapist told me it would help if I ate better. If I put effort into making things and figuring out what kinds of things I like.” Food never really mattered to you before, not like that. It was just something that kept you alive. In the Red Room, it didn’t matter what you ate so long as you ate something. And somewhere along the way, after you got out, you kind of forgot that enjoying food was something you could do. That it was more than just sustenance. 

It was like your coffee. The way you took it black for so many years because you didn’t have access to milk or cream or sugar. Until you were reminded that you could have those things now.

Food didn’t seem to matter as much as keeping a good stock of alcohol and Oxycodone. Food was always secondary. What did food do more than keep you from starving to death? The alcohol and Oxy actually served a purpose — so it took priority.

But the Doc pointed out how food could be so much more than that. And how good it could feel to spend time on something, to make something, and be rewarded with something that was enjoyable to eat. 

You got the chance to figure out what you liked, too. That never really seemed important before. But it felt like something significant, now.

“I mean I’m not a professional,” you continued. “But I can do more than boil eggs or make toast.” You gave him a smile.

Matt didn’t want to bring up anything heavy again, not when she was smiling and speaking lightly and making them food though tears were drying on her face. On his face. But there was something he needed to say and he felt like he needed to say it now.

“I didn’t know where we stood.”

He heard her food prepping cease and felt her attention on him.

He continued, “When you found me again. Even after Fisk. I didn’t know where we stood with each other. So many things had changed since Saint Agnes. You decided to stay but you . . . were distant. I didn’t know how you felt about our relationship. I didn’t know what you thought about who I was to you. We never talked about it. You never talked about it.”

She didn’t say anything. Just listened.

“But the more I think about it, the more I think I should have realized,” Matt said. “You went out of your way to save my life. You kept coming back, even when I think you didn’t want to. Even when I pushed you away and said awful things. Foggy and Karen had given up on me, but you never did. You didn’t consider leaving until you made sure I was okay. And when I asked you to stay, you stayed. You did things to show me what I meant to you. That our relationship still mattered to you, even after all this time. And I’m sorry I couldn’t see that for so long.”

You nodded slowly, taking this in. And you had something you wanted to say as well. You took a moment to stare at the bricks that were once the walls you kept up and you refused to build them again, though it felt difficult not to. “. . .Your opinion of me matters to me,” you said. “I think it’s the only one that does. Sometimes I don’t care what I even think about myself. But you. . . . It makes it real. What you think about me makes it what I am.”

His eyebrows were pulled together and his jaw worked and he opened his mouth but you beat him to it.

“Don’t apologize again,” you said, knowing what he was thinking, about the awful things he had called you that he didn’t mean. “You don’t have to apologize again. I just wanted you to know. That what you think matters to me.”

And Matt knew what he had to say next. “You’re my family, Y/N. Okay?”

She nodded, and he could tell there were tears in her eyes as she smiled. “Okay.”

You made omelettes and you both talked about things that didn’t matter and reminisced about your past and laughed and for the first time in the fifteen years you were gone and the twenty it was for Matt, just like when you were kids, you stayed up all night and talked until sunrise.

Next Chapter

A/N: Fucking hell this was long and a bitch to edit. There were a lot of parts I went over a bunch of times wondering if I should change it or keep it the same. Some feedback would be really really nice for this one.

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[tillthereweretangents]

Do either of you have thoughts on Ringo’s song Electricity? I’ve been wondering who other than Johnny Guitar could be the ‘gangster of love smiling from above’ and what that means about the song in general.

Not so long ago back in Liverpool Playing every show while working in the factory Music was the scene, I was on my way Chasing my own dream with Rory and the Hurricanes Before he became the keeper of the plane And by the name of Johnny Guitar Electricity coming through his fingers Every time he plays, everybody lingers On the verge of a serious power surge Electricity, and I still remember back in the day No one there will forget the way he played Electricity As it turned out good Made it here to Hollywood Playing just the same I guess there's things that never change Just like from the start Every night I gave my heart Trying to make it good Just like I know I could The gangster of love Is smiling from above So we play this one to Johnny Guitar Electricity coming through his fingers Every time he plays, everybody lingers Electricity, and I still remember back in the day No one there will forget the way he played Electricity Electricity coming through his fingers Every time he plays, everybody lingers Electricity, and I still remember back in the day No one there will forget the way he played Electricity

First off, thank you so much for the comment!

We're sure this song is about Johnny Guitar (he's named right there in the chorus). Did you have other ideas who Ringo might be thinking of?

Johnny died in 1999 and the song was released in 2017, almost 20 years later, so it makes sense that Ringo is talking about Johnny looking down on him from heaven as it were.

Gangster of Love

This is in reference to a 1957 recording by Johnny "Guitar" Watson"

It didn't gain traction in 1957, but he rerecorded it in the 70s, which is what you see here, and then it did chart.

He could have chosen a different song from a different year. I find it quite interesting he chose a song from 1957, which was before he and Johnny met, but is the year that John and Paul met.

With this information we can absolutely say that "gangster of love" refers to Johnny Guitar and only Johnny guitar.

One other lyric we'd like to note, even though you only asked about this one.

Keeper of the plane

The Hawker Hurricane was a very famous plane from WWII. It would have been well-known to all the lads in Liverpool.

When Rory died, Johnny took over as leader of the Hurricanes. We're pretty sure that's what Ringo is referring to with "keeper of the plane".

So those are all our thoughts on "Electricity"

Ultimately, it's very clear Johnny held a special place in Ringo's heart even many years after his death. To us it sounds fairly romantic, maybe even akin to "Here Today," but it could also just be an ode to a good friend who had passed.

What do you think?