#trying to figure out if people several hours away need to drop everything and try to make it here to say goodbye while at work was uh

[raeathnos]

.

[natsaffection]

I hate you! | part 2 | N. Romanoff

Avenger!Natasha x Younger!Recruit!Reader

Summary: When you're on the run from Shield and past memories remind you what you realy are.

warnings: Torture, mention of suicide, panic attack,

Word count: 9,2k

A/N: second part! We dive into the past..

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A few months passed, and you could say that you had finally settled in. After Sokovia you spent more time together, but you still had your fears of contact. So you had taken some pictures of your comrades yourself. With Tony and Bruce you had no problems. There was information all over the Internet about them, but all the formulas and so forth got on your nerves after two minutes. With Steve, it was even easier. He had a whole museum about him, after all. You were there for several days and hours and agreed he was a good guy. About Clint, you could find some things at SHIELD. How come you guys didn't run into each other once?? And Natasha?! You can't understand that you have so much in common, and she can't look at you normally? There's nothing about her at all. Just like about you.

What you didn't know until then is that Natasha felt the same way. She rummaged through everything, former shares at SHIELD, the complete media, everything and absolutely nothing about you. Are you even registered? Who are you? She was pissed, and she knew exactly who to turn to.

"We need to talk." She stormed into Fury's office first thing that morning, wanting answers, and only he could have them.

"How is it that Y/n L/n, has no background data whatsoever, and at SHIELD!" Fury just looked puzzled from his work to her, "How come you care?"

"You're the one who showed me with to be on a team, so I must know the people too." Fury is definitely too old for this. That could have come from you. He stood up with a sigh and looked out the window, "I hate to say this, but you will only find out the answers if you ask her yourself.

Natasha chuckled. Fury isn't going to tell her? "What makes her so special that you want to protect her, huh? Let me guess, the Council is behind this." Oh, how he wished that. He turns to her and looks at her seriously again, "That's enough. You'll understand when you figure it out." He heads towards the exit until he thought of something else, "Oh by the way! While we're at it, Y/n and Rogers are on their way here right now. The three of you will be leaving in 20 minutes. The Lemurian was hijacked an hour ago and the crew held hostage.“

⧗

"Six minutes to drop, guys."

You were reading this famous book series until Steve came into your room and took you away. He gave you the memo on the way, and you were ready to go. So that's the life of an Avenger, working with time constraints and never knowing when or where it's going to hit next.

You were already in the jet that flew you to the position, and you get ready like every time. In the past, it was go and bang, you were in your mode. Now? Now you have to get your head straight, so you don't totally drift off when it starts.

"Y/n!"

Steve brought you out of your thoughts, and you look at him, "What?" You take in your surroundings and realize that everyone's was ready, "You're going to secure the back deck with Natasha and then join us," You don't listen further because you already knew what to do. Not with whom, though..And Steve seems to have seen your reaction, "What's going on?"

You look at him and then over to Natasha and roll your eyes, "Well..You should ask her that.." He followed your gaze and understood, "Hey, whatever this is between you guys, get it together and talk it out. It can't come between missions, okay?"

If only it were that simple. Who has been trying to talk to her for the last few weeks? Who's been on their best behavior and so on?

"Understood..." God, you hate it. You check your gear again and get ready to go. Steve just opens the loading door and jumps right out. Your eyes widen because you didn't know he took the shortcut. You just grin and jump out after him as well.

The wind that blew against your face did you good and brought back memories. You get ready for the intact and a little later you land bolt upright in the ocean. You quickly dive to the deck and climb up. The guards weren't exactly well placed, and you secure your deck in seconds. You had to smile from time to time because you could hear Steve's movements and his shield impacts. In exactly 5 minutes you had cleaned the entire deck and the others joined you. Now the fun part begins....

"Alright. Split up, and we'll meet at the meeting point." Steve nodded at you, and Natasha ran over with you to get under the deck. It wasn't long before you were running into the first men again. Natasha left you standing and went to work herself. You didn't mind, yet at some point it got boring. You thought it would be a little more exciting if you went ahead now, but you were wrong. What kind of soldiers are they? They literally fall down when you just blow on them.... "Finished already? Let's go." Natasha walked past you, and you had to pull yourself together not to repeat her.

After Steve had checked our position and then given the command for the attack, you wanted to get ready to meet the other ones who were rescuing the hostages. But when you notice that Natasha was going in a completely different direction, you go after her, "Uhm..isn't it that way?" You see Natasha laugh, "Didn't Nick tell you? That surprises even me right now..." Told you what, exactly? You were about to ask when three men came running towards you and threw you against the grate separating the ship with the ocean. The impact was so unpredictable that it made you drop your weapon. However, it also slid through the grate and into the water. You look behind in shock and back at the guy who attacked you. You hit him in the face, and he took it more calmly than the guys before. You ducked, kicked him in the leg and he crumpled away. He fell forward slightly, and you give him the final blow as you grabbed his head and slammed it against the bars. You look back down into the water and take a note that you need to ask Fury for a new weapon....

"What's wrong?" Natasha came up to you, thinking you were looking at something, but when she realized you were looking at nothing, she was confused. "My gun..." You had a problem.

"What?" Are you the one who's confused now? Did you take a hit? "My gun is drowning in the ocean right now..." She looks at you and looks around, "Well, take another one. Here lie a lot around, and now go on." To her, it's just a normal weapon, but she's wrong. It can fire bullets, yes, but only if you've been given permission to do so...If not, you'll have to manage in stun mode.

"I can't..." Natasha has already walked forward again and stopped, "Why not?!"

You now step away from the grate and look at the gun in front of you lying on the ground and shake your head, "It just won't work, okay? Can we please unlock with the others now?" You see Natasha roll her eyes and continue walking in her direction again.

You were going to stop her after all, but you suddenly hear more men coming towards you. "Natasha, there's more coming!" You just dodge a fist and punch the guy in the pit of his stomach. He was holding it, and meanwhile you take care of the second one. You dodge several times, punch him in the face and then kick him in the stomach as well. He fell backwards and suddenly the other one was completely on his feet again. But there were now not just two, but three. He kicked you away as well, and you rolled backwards. Natasha probably had to have gotten kicked as well that you were now back together and surrounded by several men, "Now take this one." Natasha pulled her second pistol out of the holster and handed it to you. You didn't see what it was at first, but when you tried to touch the handle, you dropped it, "No!" She looked at the gun and then back to you,

"What's wrong with you Y/n!?"

"First, I told you I couldn't and second, the others will hear the shots!" The second was an excuse, but one that definitely made sense. You notice how Natasha took her other one and fired away, "The hostages are most definitely on their way to be picked up by now and now do something!"

She ran at a couple of men, and you again dodge the blows of the others. You do the same tactic again from earlier, and it was going very well until Natasha was done with hers and decided to turn the mens from you out. They both fell down, shot. You take a few steps back and look at her annoyed.

I had everything under control!

She looks at you with a cold look and continues walking. You know better, and should actually go to Steve, but you can't just leave her alone now, can you? You sigh and go after her again. You follow her until she wanted to go around a corner, and she suddenly takes a step back and holds you. You look at her and then cautiously around the corner and see that once again two men are standing in front of a door. What is behind it? And what does Natasha want from it? “You on the right, me on the left." She sprints forward and you understand what she wanted. You turn off the right and Natasha walked through the door. You stopped and thought you were in the wrong movie. Do you actually always leave the remains on open ground? You grunt and push the boys in with you and close the door again. You look around and realize you're in a central room. Natasha is standing right in front of you, typing something on the screens, "What are you doing?" She sees you coming towards her in the corner of her eye, "Nothing that concerns you and now shut up. You've done enough, or should I say not."

You wanted to say something, but know better that it won't do any good with her. So you just lean against the wall, close your eyes and exhale deeply. Natasha could think you were exhausted, but you weren't at all. You could go on for hours, but you had to get your nerves under control, and not because of Natasha...Your head is literally screaming for at least one body. But as always, you will not give in and fight it. It is not your first and last time.

A few minutes passed before the door opened again, or rather fell off...It was Steve with the guy who was in charge. He punched him one last time in the face and he remained unconscious. That's the way to do it!

"Oh, how embarrassing.." Of course..And there's her other side again. Steve didn't expect to hear another voice and looks. He felt his face fall asleep when he saw you, "What are you doing?" You lean off the wall, "We're not doing anything! I tried to stop her, but-"

"Backing up, you should always do that..." She was as annoyed with you as you were with her. Steve walks past you and comes up to Natasha, "What's so important here?" He looked at the whole thing, "You're securing classified SHIELD data..."

"Anything I can get." That didn't make it any better. "Our mission was to rescue hostages!" Thank you..Finally someone says that. It felt good to have Steve make an announcement to her. But they were busy with each other, and you were happy that Natasha was going to get in trouble, so no one noticed that the other dude lit a grenade and threw it in your direction. Steve bounced it off with his shield, grabbed Natasha who shot a target and the three of you flew through it. The grenade exploded, and the room goes up in fire, "Okay..that one's on me."

"You're damn right it is."

"Yes it is!"

You and Steve understood each other. He got up and left the now broken room. The three of you made your way to the rendezvous point and were picked up again by the jet.

Natasha and you were heading back to the tower. Steve, on the other hand, wanted to take care of something and thus left you behind. You didn't care where Natasha went. You had to go immediately to the training room and let your thoughts run free. You go in, activate the Combat mode, grab the demo gun and start shooting. You leave your head in complete control and hit every single target without even looking directly at it. No matter where the hologram appears, you hit it. No matter how far away it is, you hit it. You hate it, but it's the only way to get down. When you were done, you threw the gun away and went to take a shower. But when you go towards the door, Natasha is already there. Who was watching you.

"Answer me this, if you can shoot so well, why can't you shoot on the damn ship?" You've had enough of her today, so you just want to get out of here. But before you could leave the room, she gets in the way, and you run right into her, "By God, what do you want?" You were so fed up. "My answer." You take a deep breath and look at her, "In all these months you didn't even want to talk to me and now," you had to get it out, "now all of a sudden you care about me? What? Are you afraid that you'll get congruence? Get your life together..." Who's the adult here?! You wanted to go further, and she held you by your arm, "Now you listen to me, L/n. I can't watch it anymore. Do you think everything is a joke? Are you really that full of yourself?" Natasha thought you were making fun of her and the team. Why didn't you use these skills before, both with Ultron and today. "You don't know anything about m-“

"And I don't care about your life either, but I will not tolerate you putting us in danger!" Now it's over. "Putting us in danger?! Who the hell put the entire mission in danger earlier to get any info! And for what?! To get a medal for SHIELD? I thought we were a team here and that it only matters what we do here at the Avengers, but I guess I was wrong, just like with Fury back then! It's always EQUAL after all!" The last word was dedicated with so much hate and anger that Natasha let go of you as you walk on to finally get into your well deserved shower.

And man did you love it. You were in there for a whopping 40 minutes and when you came out and put on some new clothes, you felt like you had been reborn. You go downstairs to get something to eat. But before you could open the fridge, Natasha came in again. You see her and would immediately- "I really-"

"I thought you'd want to hear this. Fury got attacked and it looks bad."

You drop all your stuff and follow her to one of the cars. She drove you there and the ride was silent. You both had the same train of thought. When you arrived, Natasha asked where Fury was and someone took you into a room where Steve and Maria were already standing watching the doctors. You also go closer and your heart stopped, He's going to make it? Isn't he?! Please..

"What does ballistics say?" Now asked Natasha, who was also shocked, "Three bullets, no characteristics and untraceable." That can only be- "Soviet." Before you could think about it, what no one wanted to hear came,

"Cardiac arrest!"

You move even closer to the window and see the entire team now focused on getting Nick's heart beating again. But it was now the second shock. And after the third, they stopped.

You got angry. Why don't they continue? Do they actually know who is lying there on the table?

"HEY!" You hit the glass to get the doctors' attention, but they didn't respond, "Y/n.." Maria put a hand on your shoulder, but you bat it away.

"DAMN NOW, DO SOMETHING!" You got louder and angrier. You hit the glass even harder now, and before it could break, Maria and Steve stopped you. You collapsed in their arms and couldn't believe Nick was dead. Murdered. You scream your whole soul out.

When at some point no sound came out of you, Maria got you back on your feet and took you into the next room. After a while, a few people came in to give you a chance to say goodbye. But you have already seen enough. You wait outside as Natasha, Steve, and Maria go in and, you let your mind wander again. Who are you taking the Red Order from now? Who will be there for you when it's too much? Who will save you from the Avengers again when they did put themselves out there wrong?

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‎ Twenty years ago:

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"Amniotic fluid drained."

"Incubator uterus unlocked."

"Nine-month cycle complete, infant weighs 6 pounds, 284 grams."

Exactly twenty years ago, you had seen the light of day, and a little too soon. The plan was for you to spend three more months in the tank..growing up. But there was a last-minute change.

"M-Ma'am! You're endangering the fetus with the-" The woman who was supposed to be in charge of you had concerns from the beginning when she came into the program. At first, she didn't care, as she was only in it for the money. But after time and the progress you made, she couldn't take her eyes off you. One of the other doctors shot her when she opened her mouth too wide,

"Get a new nanny! The child needs a breast that will nurse it!" There were countless women who could be conceived for this. So a little later, there was another donor woman standing in front of you.

The mastermind of it all, took you out of the tank and looked at you in full view.

"Welcome to the world, number seven."

The first few years of your life went normally, if you wanted to call it that. You had felt like a miracle..Everyone looked up to you, did what you wanted, played with you what you wanted..just everything..Until one day everything changed. You were four when you started thinking for yourself. To talk properly and to run. From then on, you were a lab rat. A guinea pig. They treated you like dirt, every time you did something wrong, didn't listen, didn't follow orders, they punished you. At first, they dragged you back to your room, because it was impossible to do further tests in your condition. They needed you alive, not beaten half to death.

When you had recovered to some extent, they continued. At first, you begged them to stop, but in time you learned that it was useless, and finally you let them do it to you.

At the age of nine, you learned that you were not the only one and your name suddenly made sense. There were seven of you in the beginning. Most of them were older than you, but you were far superior. After all, they had seven tries.

Alexandra, the brains behind the whole thing, played it smart. She acted as if she was the one you could rely on and others were the culprits. Instead, she was the monster. She gave the orders.

She was also the one who was there when you needed someone to talk to, to cry on a shoulder...you thought she was listening to you, but she was just taking your weaknesses and working with them. She gave you a suppressed sense of family, and at one point you felt like seven.

At an age of eleven, the harder stuff started. You were in one of the training rooms as usual, thinking that it was business as usual with Strucker's people. You all hated him. He was the bad guy here in your children's eyes and no one else. He stood there as usual and gave the hand signal. There were four people rushing at you, and it only took a few seconds, and they were on the ground. A legacy of years of training and most importantly what is instilled in you, since you were planted in the incubator.

"She's ready." You knew the voice. Alexandra came out of nowhere and stood right next to him. You didn't know what was going on, and suddenly three doors opened around you. Out of them came number one, six, and four. You all looked at each other in confusion. Since when are you allowed to fight together? Everything here was always set up for single combat, so what was going on?

Alexandra took a step forward, "I just want to see one of you on the mat here in front of me. That one is also just permitted to walk out of here alive." You looked at her in shock, You're supposed to fight each other? Absolutely not.

"B-But Ms. Alexandra, we-" Number one, the oldest of you, probably wanted to say what each of you was thinking. But Alexandra just held up her hand. A sign to be quiet. "No re-word. Now get going before I have to say goodbye to all of you." And suddenly 13 men with guns came in and surrounded the mat. They pointed their guns at you and waited for something.

"Come on. I'm counting on you." The four of you didn't know it. But each one of you felt directly addressed. Alexandra made this sure over the years that each of you thought he or she was the most important thing to her. But you are all equally indifferent.

Number six attacked first and that gave a short term reaction. The rest of you defended yourselves, but one more person got scared and attacked another one in the meantime. And it wasn't long before every single one of you was now fighting for your lives. Number four was on the floor first and number six was on top of her. But she hesitated, "What are you doing? Kill her." Number six looked over at Alexandra, "I-I can't..." And two shots rang out. Number six and four now lay shot in front of you.

Number one, and you looked at each other, and you knew what that meant. Only one can get out of here. It was a long fight and you finally admit defeat. You couldn't take it anymore. After all, your opponent was eight years older than you. He had more experience and more strength than you. You lie on the floor and see him coming towards you. He had a gun in his hand, and you didn't even know when he picked it up. You close your eyes and get ready. No matter what is to come. It will be better than life here.

But suddenly number one cried out and let his guard down. You didn't know why, but your body took that chance and knocked him over. Now you were the one on top of him. You took the gun and held it to his head. I won...Ha I did it-

"Finish it."

You breathed hard. Your hand started shaking and you couldn't pull the trigger. You see in the corner of your eye Alexandra coming towards you. She took the gun from your hand and you sighed out. But then you heard a gunshot and saw the life drain out of number one. You were in shock, but still jumped up when Alexandra looked back at you.

She killed them all!? What if she is the danger? She approached you, and you took a step back again, "Stop right there." You shook your head, "Number Seven, stop right there!" It was like a button press, and you're stopped in your tracks. You wanted to walk, to run, but you couldn't.

"If you don't fit this role here.. You're useless to us...and to me." She wiped away a tear from your face that rolled down. "So. Why did you hesitate?" You had never heard that pitch of voice from her before, "I-I couldn't..." She continued to look at you, "And why not?" You wanted to run from her, but why couldn't you??? "There's no point in resisting, so..I'll ask one last time....Why did you hesitate?" You knew you couldn't get away from it. And Strucker was in the room too. Now, or in a few hours, you'll blurt out the answer anyway, "I...We..-were friends..." You look down, too afraid of Strucker's reaction and action. But he did nothing. You hear Alexandra sighs and leave.

"Take her to the room." You looked up. The room..This was the biggest punishment you could have had. But why is the order coming from her? This is Strucker's command territory! You scream after Alexandra, that it was a mistake and will never happen again. But men were already holding you and dragging you down the corridor.

From that point on, you were just a machine. They could remove all your emotions and feelings from you. Well...almost all of them. When you understood that Alexandra was behind all this, you could see through her a bit. You told her only what she wanted to hear. But it did not end the numerous pains she caused you. You were again in one of the cells because you couldn't carry out an order, and Alexandra came in and wanted to know why. You wanted to laugh about it. How is a person with such injuries supposed to give the best?

"You are a weapon, do you understand that? If you don't deliver, you're useless. I didn't wait years for you for nothing, only to be disappointed in the end!" She turns her back on you and is about to leave the room when you mutter to yourself,

"I...h-hate you..."

She stopped and turns around, "What did you just say?" You were so angry. What worse could happen? "I hate you! You're a monster!" She continues to look at you sideways until she left. "You'll regret this."

Hours passed, days passed, and after the actual two days, in that you should have been let out long ago, the lights turned off and no one came. Another three days, and you were still in there. No food, no drink. No one to talk to. You were going insane. Without a hint of light, you didn't even know what day it was. After exactly thirteen days, you started begging to be let out of here. You don't want to be alone anymore. You want Alexandra back. However, she made you beg for another two days and eventually a crack of light came into your cell as she opened the door and walked in. She knelt in front of the bars, "Have you learned your lesson number seven?" You're immediately starting crying, "I..I-I'm sorry! Please..Please I need you, I don’t-" Alexandra started to grin. There it is. She broke you completely.

Your other three fellow riders had respect and fear for you. The favorite child of Alexandra and Strucker. They couldn't do anything against you. And at some point, number three died at your hands. It wasn't your first kill by far, but the first on a person you grew up with. Her eyes just before you pulled the trigger will haunt your dreams forever.

You came back from multiple missions with maximum casualties. You were exactly what HYDRA always wanted. A weapon that brought success every time.

There were rules for you. If you failed to follow some, you were punished. When you carried out every order they gave you, you were rewarded. There hasn't been a single punishment since then, and you tried to keep it that way. They treated you with respect as long as you followed the rules. You saw no way out. This will now be your life forever. You arbitrarily became HYDRA's puppet.

HYDRA.

HYDRA...

Your home...

Your family...

Your life...

They had managed to make you play by their rules. According to their ideas, to kill, to destroy...just everything. For the others, it was physically and mentally too much. Number two and five took their own lives a little later to get some freedom.

Also, something you thought about several times. However, HYDRA couldn't afford to let one of their most perfect experiments go just like that, and kept stopping you.

Years passed, and you found yourself back in the meeting room. Alexandra in front of you gave you your assignment, told you some more details and finally gave you the equipment you needed. It was funny..In front of you are all kinds and designs of different weapons.

How beautiful she would look with a bullet in her head...

You were now 18 years old and could think for yourself again. Till that one day, you lay in your bed at night, and you could laugh that Alexandra usually never managed to leave you cold forever. Well, it wasn't entirely thanks to you that you got your will back.

You had a mission in Soul 14 months ago. You were supposed to take out an engineer. Everything was going according to plan until you walk into a room and several soldiers are pointing guns at you. You looked around and got ready to fight. But before you could get started, they were all shooting bullets that had a stun serum in them. It took 26 bullets for you to fall to the ground unconscious.

When you came back to, you were in some kind of interrogation room. You were again in a kind of box that was made of glass. You hit the glass, but were only thrown back. You get up, confused, and a man walks in. "Always fun to watch."

He had a deep, raspy voice. He stands right in front of you, "Nick..Fury. We already know your name..Haven't held back the last few years." Who was this guy? And what did he want from you, "I know you. And you might know us. You're with SHIELD."

When he said the name, a huge wave of anger brushed inside you. You looked at him with a killer look, but it left him cold. "I know what you're thinking. After all, they've talked you into it for years, but HYDRA is the real enemy here."

"LIE!" You pounded on the glass. SHIELD is your enemy. The enemy of Alexandra. You were created to wipe out SHIELD. Fury knew what was coming out of you. After all, he had been through something similar with someone else. He pressed a button and a screen went down. A little later, you were shown pictures, "Does this look familiar?"

It was some kind of tank with some kind of liquid in it and several cables attached to it, "No? Well, that's your birthplace. Do you know how normal children are brought into the world? Through mothers."

You had a mother. So what is this guy babbling about?! Before you could start, the picture changed, "Did you know there wasn't just you guys? Number seven, right? That's what they call you? Well, I'm sorry to say that, but there has been a Seven before. Only that was several centuries ago."

That can't be. A hundred years?

"There was a generation created back in 1989. You're not the only one. You're just an enhanced version. How does it feel to be treated as an object?"

He's telling lies..just lies!

"This..should look familiar to you." Suddenly there were pictures of you on the screen. You were seen at the age of six, then at 13 and one at 15. It wasn't pretty to watch when you saw the situation you were in.

"Wh-Where did you get that?!" If it weren't for that glass between you, Fury would be in little pieces by now. "Jack. You might know him." Your eyes widen. He was one of Strucker's henchmen. He was one of them? That could explain his resignation...

"He was a good guy, you know. You knew him too, didn't you?" He was the only one who treated you normally. Looked the other way when men beat you to death again... "He helped us make this plan here. To get you here... I don't want to beat around the bush anymore. I'll make you an offer. Help us destroy the work of Alexandra! Together we can prevent that again children like you have to live through such tortures."

It sounded too good to be true. Is it a test? Is Alexandra behind it to test your loyalty? You didn't know..Fury left the room and let the images continue to play. You saw again pictures of fetuses in those tank’s, Information about HYDRA, about SHIELD. After a few hours, Fury came back with a tablet with food on it for you. You asked him things, and he was happy to give you the answers. You continue to listen to him about his plans and finally decide to give it a try. If you are wrong it is so, but you could not hide that at that moment you felt in small sparks of hope.

You came back to HYDRA and started your own research. Fury gave you time to think about it. And you found out that he was telling the truth. You came back to him and accepted his offer. Which now led you back to the meeting room. In front of you now stood Alexandra.

You had to pull yourself together not to pull out your gun and shoot her in the head right away. She gave you the info about the mission and as you were about to go, she stopped you,

"The rules?" One last time... "Kill anyone who gets in our way, No witnesses, No victims of our sides, Only speak when demanded, No-"

"Dismissed."

You nod and make your way to the squad cars. It seemed to be a bigger act as another 25 men were sent along. We each split up into the vehicles and headed out. You drove for a while until you were given the command in your ear, and you drew your weapon and shot everyone in the vehicle. You break through the grate that separated you and the driver and take him out as well. The vehicle comes to a stop, and you wait as instructed for the others to open the doors. When you did, Fury stood in front of you and looked at the bloodbath you had made. "Well..we need to work on that..."

You emptied the vehicle and instead of HYDRA soldiers, there were now soldiers from SHIELD sitting inside. You were about to get back in as well when Fury stopped you. "You stay here." That doesn't suit you at all. You're supposed to give this man the trust to stop Alexandra? Forget it."

"You'll never-"

"Never say never. You stay here." He looks at you and you accept it. You watched the captured vehicles drive off and back to the base. You are now in a built up camp of SHIELD and you couldn't stay calm. Sure, you gave the information about the construction of the laboratory, nevertheless you are damn nervous that Fury will not succeed. A woman came up to you, "Hey, it's going to be okay, okay? This isn't Fury's first assignment." You look at the woman, "I'm Maria..." You shake your head, "You don't know what it looks like there..you...What if Alexandra already knows..she knows everything, you..you." You start breathing uncontrollably. Maria caught on to this and made you sit down. She sits down on the floor with you and looked at you, "Hey, can I touch you?" She knows what you've been through and doesn't want to cross anything. But when you didn't respond, and it got worse, she had to. She took your hands and put them in hers, "Hey..Take it easy..Hey.." She didn't know how to address you though..and it got worse, "Seven, please calm down.." You shake your head, "I- I can't..My- help.."

"It's okay, try to come down. Take deep breaths." She looked at you gently and took a deep breath so you could follow suit, "Follow me, okay? In..and out. Focus on me."

You do what she said and it helped. "Yes..Just like that.." You both breathe the same, and you close your eyes to focus more on Maria's voice. Man, is she good at this. You see her smile as she realizes you're improving. "Are you okay again?" You realize what kind of situation you're in. You stand up and pat the dirt off your legs, "Yeah..Um.." She knew what you were going to say, but she understood that you weren't saying it. You both now stood there looking ahead and 23 minutes later, you both could see the vehicles on the horizon again. Everyone got ready and when the vehicles were in front of you, Fury got out and came up to you.

"What happened, did you-" you literally gushed over him, stopping, but when you saw Alexandra out of the car, arrested. Any words stuck in your throat. Behind her came more men, but nowhere did you see Strucker... "He got away, but don't worry, we'll find him." You honestly didn't care about him. Only she. She looked deep into your eyes as she walks past you, and you looked down. If she ever gets free..Then it's- "She'll rot for eternity, I promise you."

That was all two years ago. Nick kept his promise until now. She's in the deepest hole on earth, and you haven't even seen her since, and you're grateful for that, too. It took time for you to settle into SHIELD normally. Maria made this her mission. She was your first point of contact after Fury. The three of you got along so well that it made it easier for you. One evening the three of you were in Fury's office to discuss future plans. That's when you realized you needed a new name. Its easier for everyone involved and especially for you. The three of you thought about it for a long time, and Maria looked at you, and came up with your name.

For your 19th birthday, they gave you your very first SHIELD mission. They had tried to train you for something..combat less, but they couldn't overcome Alexandra's brainwashing since your fetus state. You were made to kill, after all. Also, a complicated thing..

They ran some tests with your permission. You had a 99% hit rate. Fighting arts like in the books. Even with your eyes closed, you could take out your opponents. And it's your nature to fight. So SHIELD had no choice but to send you on missions. It was a Winn Winn situation. At first, it was hard to drop your rules, so Maria gave you new ones.

No sacrifices on our part, no killing, and if we did, it was with Fury's permission. You remember sitting in front of her and taking out a piece of paper to write them down. You looked at her in surprise when after two she had already finished. It also took time, but you were able to replace them.

You also got your hit rate under control to some extent. You got two guns with a regulator. It is automatically set to stun and when Fury gives you the command, you can switch it to kill at any time.

You used the word "thank you" for the first time in your life. Something you learned in one of the movies. Maria grinned with a wide face, and Fury just nodded and left. But he, too, had to grin. Those two became a family to you that you never had.

And now one of them is supposed to be dead? After all that Fury did for you? You couldn't even tell him.

"Y/n!"

You look up tiredly and realize you were lost in your thoughts. Steve and Natasha were standing in front of you, "We have to go!" Natasha left, and you didn't know what was going on. "Come on." Steve walked beside you and explained what happened.

13 hours later.

Being on the run wasn't the hard part, but rather showing Steve how the whole thing works. If it weren't for you and Natasha, he probably would have been taken into custody in the first 10 minutes.

They both couldn't do much with you during that time. You were quiet, only reacted when it got serious, and stayed out of the entire thing. Nick's death hit you hard, and you still have thought processes that made you despair.

You were in a car with a guy Steve was interrogating, when suddenly the window is smashed and the guy is pulled out onto the open road. You hear footsteps on the roof and take cover, because a little later you are shot at. Steve applied the brakes and the attacker fell forward.

As if your day couldn't get any worse, the Winter Soldier was now standing in front of you. The one who was shown to you as fear and taken as a parable example of what would happen to you then if you disobeyed.

You had only focus on him and had not even noticed that Steve took you out of the vehicle and on the road. The three of you saw how one of the men gave the soldier a grenade launcher in his hand and then he shot one. One came straight at Steve and Natasha. Steve pushed Natasha away, and he flew across the divide.

The other men who got out of one of the vehicles also started shooting at you, and you take cover. Great, now it's just the two of you again, this is going to work out great..You both separate and go behind different vehicles to get cover. However, since Natasha was the only one who could fire back, you had to think about a plan, but Natasha already had one and drew fire. She changed lanes, and you saw the Winter Soldier aiming and firing the grenade launcher at her and she flew also from the road. You hoped deep inside that she was alright, and when you saw the soldier exchange the grenade launcher for a machine gun, it was your chance.

You had only a few seconds and sprinted towards the one who now had the launcher in his hand. You threw him to the ground, took the launcher from him and at that moment you saw the soldier go to the edge and shoot down. You knew it could only be Natasha. You run towards him, reload the gun, shoot at the ground in front of the rest of the men, and you knew that the shock wave of the grenade is enough to bring all of them to the ground. The grenade explodes and the remaining three men are down.

The soldier, in turn dodges, and you knew he would. You drop the gun and run right into the soldier. You throw yourself and him over the divide down on the other street. The impact is quicker than expected, and you accidentally let go of him. You slide a few more feet until you came to a stop and check on the soldier. You had to pull yourself together, because the impact was harder than you thought, and when you got yourself back into shape, you see Natasha going into the attack.

She was good, you have to admit, but the soldier threw her away and she crashed into a car. He took a gun that was on the ground, and you run over again and just before he could shoot, you kick his gun away. He quickly caught himself and stepped back. You dodge, but he hit you in the chest afterward. You are pushed backwards and get up..His fighting skill has not changed, so you were one step ahead. You run up to him and see him pull out a knife. It went on for several minutes of you dodging each other's fists until you were able to give him a sidekick. He stumbled and you kick him in the stomach. He flew away and you go over into the attack again. He dodged and grabbed you by the neck with his metal arm. He lifted you up and threw you backwards for countless meters. You bounce into a car and stay seated, "Fuck..You didn't have the strength...last time..." You tried to get up, but he must have hit something inside you, and you fall back to the ground. You look where the soldier is and see Steve taking care of him. Finally...

He definitely had the easier job of the two of you, as the fight was over after a few minutes. Steve was able to remove his mask and when he got up, Steve froze for some reason.

The soldier tried to go back into the attack but was thrown away when Natasha hit him with the grenade launcher. You'll looked to see where he was, but instead of seeing him, you saw several SHIELD vehicles coming at you. You were all too done to fight back, so hundreds of SHIELD agents took you into custody.

The ride was silent. Steve muttered stuff to himself about a Bucky you only knew as Strucker's toy.

So.. Strucker was back. The winter soldier was back. What is-

You were pulled from your thoughts when you noticed Natasha next to you, continuing to struggle with consciousness. You look at her and only now realize that she had been hit, "We need a medic here! If we don't apply a tourniquet, she's going to bleed to death right here in the ca-" Before you could finish, one of the guards held a stick in front of your face, which began to charge with electricity. But the guard turned it and shocked the other guard who was sitting inside. Then the person took off the helmet and it was Maria. Your mood went up again, and she helped you get out of the vehicle. She got into another car and drove you to an unknown location.

People came running right up to you, "Gunshot wound, she lost a pint of blood-"

You knew better, "Maybe more!" You held her shoulder and notice more and more blood flowing out. A man came running toward you, "I'll take her!"

Maria stopped the man, "They want to see him first." You both looked at her confused, and she took you to a room. You enter it and your heart stopped for the second time.

In front of you was Nick. And definitely not dead. He looked up at you and smirked. You were sat down and Natasha was taken care of. He listed everything that happened to him and even joked about it, "Your heart stopped beating, they cut you open..." Natasha asked the question that was also on your mind. "..We alienated it for the purpose." You couldn't listen to it anymore and you leave the room. You go out for some fresh air and had to keep your anger under control.

This is the second time now that Fury had lied to you. How can you trust him now?! And when you thought of the devil, Maria came to you, "I know how you feel-"

"You don't! The man I trusted with my life has deceived me for the second time now!" Maria didn't know about the other one until she understood that the second "lie" was one she made up to keep you from Strucker's death... "Listen. We wanted to get you involved, but we had to make it look believable. Plus, if you had just left with us, it would have been too dangerous..." This was no lie for once.

"Don't you trust me? Is it because I'm not one of yours? I can keep my mouth shut!" Your words hurt her. She doesn't like it when you think of yourself that way, "Hey, you're angry, I can understand that, but none of this has anything to do with where you're from, understand? Don't even think about mentioning something like that again!" Now she was angry too..But not at you, but at herself. However, you didn't know that, and her tone..startled you. You've never seen her so serious before and before the rudder goes completely off the rails, you do what you've learned to do in the last few years, "Okay..I-I'm sorry..." iu. That sounded strange.

Maria appreciated the apology, she loosened her gaze and came towards you, "Hey..You did a great job out there..Otherwise you wouldn't be here right now. We need you here, and we all do. Fury is counting on you in there because he knows you can do it, so let's go back in there now and save the people, okay?" Maria was desperate, but thought it might do some good. You nodded, "Alright..I'll be right there." Maria smiled and went back to the others. You look around again, take a deep breath and rejoin them as well.

You're right on time. You discuss the plan to disable the carriers and get ready. However...As the devil would have it, you'll have to work with Natasha again. The two of you are supposed to attack directly from the inside, so Fury gave you a technique that "reshaped" you into any person you scanned before. Natasha had a plan to infiltrate directly as council members, however it only had one female person inside. Thus, one of you had to play the agent. Your choice was unanimous for the first, time and a little later Natasha was in Pierce's office, and you were outside his door, standing guard. A few minutes passed before Steve's voice could be heard everywhere.

"Agents of SHIELD, this is Steve Rogers, you've heard a lot about me in the last few days,"

Does he write it down beforehand, or does he just throw something like that out on the fly? He gave an entire speech, and you see some agents looking at each other and some even leaving the hallway. They know the brain is in here, so that definitely means trouble.

And the trouble came.. The Strike Team arrived and you nod innocently and let them in. But after a few minutes you hear the distress signal in your ear, and you drop the mask and enter the room. You see Pierce holding a gun to the head of one of the members and Natasha taking the gun from him. You took that as a sign and took out the other three guards. Natasha took the gun and now held it on Pierce, "I'm sorry," She now took off her mask as well, "Did I stepped on your moment?"

You look at her. And you- wow. That was..-What? You shake the thoughts away and see Natasha walking towards you with her gun drawn. "Take it." Not again...

You look at her, "Natasha, I can't-" she looks at you seriously, "Whatever problem you have, just put it aside for a few minutes! You can't kill? okay! Then don't pull the trigger, and now take the damn gun." She's right. You don't need to pull the trigger..you can do this..you nod and take the gun from her. She sighs and walks over to a keyboard, meanwhile she had to think. Why can't you hold a real gun? Don't you want to kill? Can't you? But then why are you at SHIELD? Every recruit, right at the beginning, signs that there won't be any physical problems once you're made to carry out a death order. She just doesn't get it.

She starts typing and looks for the encryption, "What are you doing?" One of the members got curious, "She puts all the secrets on the internet." Pierce took a few steps forward and you panicked. Do you have to shoot?! It's against the rule, you can't. Natasha caught your trembling hand, "Everything Hydra has done in the past few years, and stop now!" He did as she said and grinned, "And from SHIELD. When you do that, your past becomes known. Budapest, Osaka..the children's home.” Natasha stopped typing. children home? she was in one? Natasha looked at Pierce and back at the screen, "Are you okay with the world knowing who you really are?"

She looks up at him and smirked, "Are you?" She kept typing. Apparently she found what she wanted. However, this required two people from the management level to deactivate it. Pierce proudly made this clear. But when Natasha said someone else was coming, the door opened and Nick walked inside. Pierce had the same look as Nick did when he saw you with a loaded gun. You were about to clarify when Pierce interrupted you. He wanted to make his innocence clear, but that was no use. The two unlocked the files and Natasha drew a gun again, and you were finally able to drop yours.

"Done." Natasha looked at her phone, "And it's spreading." Before you could even feel victory, some council members cried out, and you see a hole burned in their breasts. Those badges they wore that were- "If you don't want a hole in your chest, put your gun down. It's been armed since you lit it.”

Natasha was forced to drop the gun. "If only one of you moves, she gets grilled." How you hate moments like that.. Pierce walks over to the computers and asked for status, "Connecting in 65 seconds, targeting in progress."

He was still typing some things on the computer, and suddenly you hear shots. You thought they were the ones placed on the targets, but you followed Pierce's gaze and looked up as well. All three carriers shoot at themselves and gradually destroy each other. Steve did it..

"What a waste."

Natasha couldn't resist and had to crack one of her jokes again, which Pierce didn't exactly leave unmoved, "Come on my love. You're flying me out of here.” He held the button in front of her. and Natasha was again forced to follow him. You and Fury looked at each other, "There were times I would have taken a bullet for you." Nick looked at you and as he said the word "bullet"he looked down at the gun you dropped earlier. You pick the gun up and hold her behind your back. You understood what he wanted. The two of you stood a little apart, and with the line from earlier, Pierce looked at Fury, "You already-"

"Y/n, permission granted." Pierce didn't know what that meant, but you did. It clicked and suddenly three shots were fired. All three flew straight into Pierce's chest. He fell to the ground and died instantly. Natasha looked at you, wondering where your fear from earlier has gone. You continue to stare at Pierce, gun drawn, now lying in his own blood. The feeling was-

"Y/n." Fury slowly came up to you and put one hand on the gun and pushed it down with a little force and finally took it off, "Y/n!" He said your name with more seriousness this time, until you break the trance and look at him and then back at the man you killed, "Nothing's going to happen. Let's go home, okay?” You just nod and repeat his “Okay” Natasha just stood there and watched you both. It was like you had completely changed person. Your stance, your eyes, the straightness with which you held the weapon was nothing compared to before.

The three of you board the helicopter together and fly to SHIELD's second base. It definitely needs a rebuild, and Nick revealed that Tony has agreed to wind down the people and find out who else is in HYDRA. You were in your room for two days, back in the tower, going through everything that had happened in the past few days. But after everything was clarified, you could go out again with a clear conscience. Tony and the others also want to know what happened, since SHIELD grounded them in the Tower when it all started. So you spent hours together again.

Natasha was in her own room most of the time preparing for the panel interview. You, too, read the published stuff about her and felt bad. Yet you were still confused..You both went through almost the same thing, so why doesn't she want to talk to you? Is that why? In any case, you will not force her to like you now. If she hates you, so be it. However, you couldn't reply that her announcement in the panel impressed you.. If you were just friends, everything would be much easier..

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TAGLIST: @marvelwomen-simp @natsxwife @blacklightsposts @yourmamacom @cd-4848 @kksalexa

[failedaethercore]

The Missing Messenger

Inspired by @wolfofcelestia's amazing work found here.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

This (my fourth fic ever lol) was written in a fever state to get it out of my system since this had been consuming me all day today while I did my adulting. Please be kind, I know there are likely a lot of mistakes, But I am trying my best to learn and grow as a writer while writing all these fics.

Also I know I wrote something similar in my last fic, but I think I've ironed it out better this time. So bear with me while I work towards a new theme haha

Rafayel x fem!MC/reader, Xavier, Zayne, confessions, fluffy stuff at the end I swear ;;

Please be warned, this is a dark work and is not a good idea to read if you are easily triggered.

CW: torture, depression, allusions to rape, blood, guns, death, please let me know if I need to add any more (can't think of what else, I swear I'm not here to hurt any of you lovely people)

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

Rafayel was laying on his sofa, one arm artfully draped over his eyes as he sighed in defeat. His latest piece was causing him so much trouble, which made him feel like just giving up and moving on to something else. But he was too far along to call it quits just yet, he wanted to see it finished.

So when his phone hummed quietly near his hand, he let out another dramatic groan and picked it up, praying it wasn't Thomas bothering him to find out when the painting would be done. It was just a text. From you.

Y/n: Hey, I saw there's a new cafe down near the plaza, you wanna go when we both have some time? Apparently they have rose flavored milk tea and really good snacks. I really wanna try it!

Rafayel smirked and sent a quick series of replies.

Rafayel: That might be a little difficult, I'm in the middle of my magnum opus and cannot be torn away! Even if it caught fire, I can never leave my studio until my vision reaches fruition!

Rafayel: But maybe you can bring me some when you come visit...perhaps...this afternoon?

He could sense you rolling your eyes as he sees the word “read” next to his texts. He lets himself full on grin, hoping you'll agree.

Y/n: I do have today off...but wouldn't you like a break? You've been cooped up all week, I thought.

Rafayel: Don't you understand y/n? I must see this through! ...But I could use a little break, if you're willing to drop everything right now and bring me an iced latte with soy milk and plenty of brown sugar boba.

Y/n: And a slice of cheesecake?

Rafayel: You know me so well, it's almost like we're friends.

Y/n: Or enemies.

He chuckles to himself, texting you always managed to brighten his foulest moods, despite the aching in his chest when his thoughts lingered too long on how you were unlikely to ever want to be more than that...just friends.

He sighed and waited for a moment, staring at the screen to see if you were going to say anything else. When it had been long enough, he figured you were getting ready to come over, and he slumped back onto the sofa once more, leaving his phone on his chest as he stared up at the blue coming through the skylights in the ceiling.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

He didn't think it would take this long to get ready, but he was patient. He may whine and complain and give you the hardest time for making him wait...but he had already waiting so long for you, what is one more hour? Or two...o-or three...

His phone vibrated again, alerting him of a text messsage. He stopped his idle paint mixing, having wanted something to do while he waited for you, and looked down at his phone set beside him.

Y/n: I love you, Rafayel

His chest suddenly felt full and warm, he could feel his heart beginning to beat quickly, and he swore he could feel his ears redden in the delight that phrase had brought him. He reread it several times, pinched himself, even slapped his face with his free hand, just to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep while waiting for you.

He quickly typed a reply once he had confirmed he wasn't dreaming.

Rafayel: Well it's about time! Thought I would have to be the first one to admit it, at this rate...

But the message wasn't read right away. Maybe you were walking over from the cafe now? And you just wanted to confess before your visit. He had no idea why you were being so honest with yourself (and him), but he was so happy he couldn't care about that right now.

He hums happily for a while, waiting even more impatiently for you to arrive. But now it's been an hour. Then two. He checks his phone. Neither of you had ever agreed on a time to meet, but he didn't think you'd make him wait so long...

Rafayel: Y/n? Are you coming? Are you okay?

His joy started to melt into chilling fear, dripping down his spine as he realizes that his confession was left unread, after all this time. That's when the panic sets in fully. Something is wrong.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

Rafayel is in his trendy sports car before he can even think about what he's doing. Acting on pure instinct alone, he's already across the bridge and meeting the afternoon traffic that Linkon City is known for on a normal Thursday. For a moment he ponders if he should break the law, eyes darting hastily around the intersection before he floors it through a red light, not even bothering to slow down. He was a madman behind the wheel already, notorious for making you white knuckle the armrest whenever you rode with him. But now he was terrified, and determined.

He regains his senses while swerving to avoid a line of slowed cars, and quickly presses a few buttons on the car's touch screen, attempting to call you. Maybe your phone had just died. Please let him be a silly fool who worries over nothing. It rang for a while, before rolling over to voicemail, your standard message of “Hey, this is y/n, sorry I missed your call, leave me a message after the beep! Beep! No, not that one” followed be a giggle and then another beep. “Y/n please be okay, you've been quiet for a while, just starting to worry about my bodyguard here...I'm heading over to see if maybe you just fell asleep, since it's your day off! You better answer your door!”

Before he forgot, he decided to make one more call, pressing another button and starting a call with Thomas.

Thomas sounds elated to hear from Rafayel, thinking he had finally finished the painting and that Thomas could set up a new exhibition around it and the other dozen paintings Rafayel had finished earlier.

“Rafayel! It's about time, do you kno-” Before Thomas can begin nagging Rafayel about making him wait so long for just one painting, Rafayel cuts him off. “Something's wrong with y/n! She won't pick up her phone and I need you to track her down somehow. She's usually not this quiet, you have to help me Thomas!” The man was taken aback, his feet falling off his desk that he had leaned up there confidently at the beginning of the call. He sat upright and had no idea how to respond for a moment, Rafayel never begged for anything. Ever. At least not to him, anyways.

Rafayel waited for Thomas to reply, then shouted at the man. “Thomas! Go find Y/n! I need to know she's okay!” Thomas broke his silence with a stuttered “Y-yeah sure!” before hanging up quickly to make some calls of his own.

Rafayel pressed the gas pedal to the floor, as he sped down the road to come to a screeching halt in front of your apartment complex. He jumped out, not even bothering to make sure the engine was off, but just managing to remember to put the damned thing into park.

He bolted up the stairs, taking each step three at a time, as his long legs screamed at him from the sudden exertion on his usually lazy muscles. He knew your apartment number by heart, knowing exactly where you slept every night, just to occasionally check in and make sure you got home from a hunt okay. Even if he never knocked on the door, he looked up at the window in your apartment until the light came on, and he could see you open the window to let in some fresh air.

He knocked hard on the door, urgency spurring his continued knocks on as he waited impatiently. “Y/n! Hey! You home?!” There was no evidence of tampering that he could detect, the door looked like it always did, so when he had to break it down to get in, he felt a little guilty. Nevermind, he could easily replace it with a better one and the building's manager would be fine with it. He was praying you were just half asleep on your bed and would just scold him for freaking out over nothing.

When he found your apartment empty, not a soul in the place, while the windows were left wide open...his heart, already halfway down to his stomach, finishes it descent into his gut, while tears threaten his eyes. No...this can't be real. He's dreaming, all of this is a lie. He pinches himself again, and again, trying to bring himself out of this nightmare.

When he decides that he is truly not dreaming, he tries to call your phone again, only to hear your phone ringing under the sofa. The song you set as his ringtone would have probably made him chuckle and tease you if this wasn't such a terrifying scenario.

He picks it up from the floor, and looks at it. A photo of him smiling with you while you both pose in front of the camera glows before his eyes. That's when it all starts to blur a little, as tears begin to truly tug at the edges of his sight. He couldn't hold them back anymore, and let out a shout of your name, unable to contain his emotions because he had just found you again.

Moments later, a silver-haired man came barging into the apartment from the balcony, obviously drawn by the commotion from below. When Rafayel saw him, he was immediately on guard, drawing a dagger from behind his back, summoned from a plume of flame in his hand.

The man looked around quickly before drawing his own weapon, a sword borne of light held aloft and pointed at Rafayel. “Where is y/n. What are you doing in her apartment?” Rafayel stares down the weapon with indifference, not even registering the question before he lunges forward, another dagger being summoned to his empty hand as the sound of metal hitting metal fills the space.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

The fight only lasted a few minutes, but both men were so fast, and so evenly matched, they both fell to the floor quickly, panting, covered in cuts and bruises. At some point Rafayel had punched the man in the face, and at another point the man had gotten a good slice into the front of Rafayel's expensive shirt.

While both of them caught their breaths, the man asked another question. “Where is y/n...and who are you?” He had never met a match in battle, and was honestly a little stunned.

“Well who the hell are you? How do you know her name and where she lives?!”

The man slumps his back against the wall near the television, running his hand through his starlit hair. “Xavier...I'm her upstairs neighbor, and her Hunter partner.” Rafayel lets out a sigh and withers at the fact.

“I'm...Rafayel...she's my bodyguard. Did you hear anything in here earlier?” He is immediately brought back to the entire reason he was even here. “Y/n left her phone, she never leaves without it.” Xavier stares as Rafayel holds up your phone, the tiny charm hanging off it indicating it was definitely yours. He had no idea who gave you the tiny red fish charm, but he had always secretly been a little jealous.

“Then...the noises earlier...” Xavier stares down at the floor. “I thought y/n was exercising for some reason, even though it was her day off...I heard some shuffling noises...but I didn't think anything of it because I couldn't sense any Wanderers.” Rafayel's eyes narrow with every word, until his glare can be felt like a radiating heat from the depths of hell. He would bore a hole right through Xavier's head if he could.

Xavier sheepishly looked away, his quiet and sleepy demeanor made meek in that moment as guilt struck him like lightning. “I didn't realize. ...We need to find her.”

Before both men departed your apartment, Rafayel making a call to get your apartment door repaired, Xavier promising to contact your old friend Zayne who works at the nearby hospital, they agreed to exchange numbers and keep in touch. Their expressions grim as they went their separate ways.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

Rafayel's soul had now been shredded, drowned, disintegrated, and finally blown away like sands in the storm. This happened nearly on the daily for him, as every moment of you being missing driving him further into madness.

It had been weeks so far.

Where were you?

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

You had been texting with Rafayel when you had nodded off, meaning to get up and get ready to go get tea and snacks to bring to his studio and spend time with him. You were excited, but work had been draining your energy of late, so you let yourself nod off for a bit. Rafayel could wait, plus you enjoyed his bratty pout when you made him wait a little bit.

You awoke to the shufflling sound of something opening your window from the balcony. Or rather...someone. You realized how late it was in the same moment you realized what was going on. Men in neutral and dark clothes, face coverings, and holding rope and other supplies silently entered your apartment, thinking you were still asleep.

You quickly sent a text, knowing there was no saving you now. You could beat them up, you could take out maybe three of them in your current condition. Your energy still low from that last mission. “I love you, Rafayel” the last thing you send, as you don't know if you're going to come back from this as more figures climb into the room, you can hear their boots quietly touching onto the floor.

You jumped up from your position on the couch and ran to secure your concealed weapon you kept in the kitchen. A firearm for in case a Wanderer got too close to the apartment complex, or something like this happening. Unfortunately for you, one of them had a taser gun, and shot you in the back, taking you down before you can even reach under the counter for the weapon strapped there.

You can't make out much as your senses are blacking out from the pain. But you make out a low chuckle from one of the figures, a man with piercing eyes glowers down at you as he puts his boot on your head and grinds it into the floor a little. “...You're going to regret going for that.”

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

It had been what felt like an eternity. Your figure was chained to the floor, the shackles on your wrists and ankles constantly chafing and making your joints ache from their weight. You were losing your muscles from all the lack of exercise, but that didn't mean you didn't still suffer the brutality of your captors.

Every single day, at some point during the day, the door to the pitch black cell would open, light would pour in, and then it would begin.

The first time, you had let yourself feel a glimmer of hope. Rafayel? Had he found you? But no...it was the man with the piercing eyes, everyone wearing masks still despite clearly being in a safe location. They could never be too cautious, it seemed. “You're going to tell us everything you know about Lemurians and where we can find them.”

Your face went a little slack. You knew very little about them, and only knew maybe...two? Three? One of them...you would never reveal their identity to these monsters. You had just arrived at this point, but the shackles were already hurting you, and the taser to your back still stung and caused your nerves to shiver with what you hoped didn't look like fear.

“Don't worry, you don't have to answer right away. Let's have some fun with this first...” At first your face distorts into disgust, until the man pulls out a blade and you see the cloth mask over his face wrinkle in a way that could only mean he was smiling maliciously. His eyes glint with joy at the prospect of hurting you.

But you never broke. Not once. You swore to yourself that death would be better than letting them know about Rafayel. After everything he had confided in you, after everything he had given to you, you would guard it with your dying breath before this scum found a drop of information. So you didn't struggle, you didn't fight, you let the torture continue for forever, as the outside world spun on without you. You wouldn't let others suffer because of your weakness, your failings.

You blamed yourself for being too lax, being too comfortable in your life, when you knew danger was a constant part of your everyday life. Your vigilance had slipped for a moment, and you were the reason you were in this situation now.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

Once Zayne had been made aware of the situation, he had stopped working for a few days, searching in his own way to find you. The days turned into weeks, before he had to return to his work, guilt riding him on both fronts as he didn't want to give up the search, but he couldn't leave his patients to die.

Xavier had assured him he would be notified as soon as you were located, and Zayne tried his best to take comfort in that, at least. Rafayel was being driven mad, to the point of having barely slept and not eaten for far too long.

He was delirious, laying on the floor of his torn apart studio, as it was too many reminders of you, in some ways. His heart was gone, he felt numb all over, and his mind swam as he stared up at the darkening sky in the ceiling. He had searched through his underworld connections, but couldn't pry anything from anyone. No one knew a thing about it, apparently. But he knew you didn't just vanish into thin air.

So when all felt lost, he decided to try his last resort. You had his heart beating in your chest. From lives lived long ago, you have been reborn with that same heart time and time again. You were breathing because he gave you his everything the first time you had met. And now he had to pull it to him. He struggled for a while to try and tune into whatever frequency it was, he was rusty and hadn't really done anything like this in what felt like centuries.

So when he finally knew he had it, he could sense other Lemurians in Linkon City, he could sense the vast ocean and the creatures that reside there...he could even faintly sense others further still, but not you.

You were a blank space. An empty void stood where your usual place in the universe hung. He didn't realize he had stopped breathing until his lungs screamed for air. He sat up suddenly and gasped, choking on the air briefly before he coughed and started to sob into his hands.

You were gone. Not a trace. Nothing.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

You were bloody and covered in scarring wounds, broken bones and twisted muscles. Today had been burns on your bare flesh, followed by mild drowning in sea water. But they lost interest, saying you probably liked it, since clearly you liked fish and all that.

You were struggling to breathe through your broken ribs, but you tried to keep steady, breathing through your nose slowly as you kept a stoic expression on your bruised and puffy face. Every day had been something new, something awful. But the taste of the deep salt water had hardened your resolve. You didn't know why Rafayel couldn't find you, but you would escape. You would find him and he would keep you safe again. You had to believe that, despite the fear that this was actually some elaborate play to make you loyal or something.

You were given too much time in the darkness by yourself. Your mind would race to horrible scenarios at the drop of a hat already, but now you had concocted a horrible fantasy where Rafayel had been the mastermind behind all of this, and that you were being tested to be sure you were loyal to him no matter what. But that made you more fearful that whoever Rafayel was running from must be even worse than this.

So you steeled yourself every day, when the shuffling of feet could be heard outside your door, you would sit up and just stoically stare at a spot in your vision that did not exist. Grounding your mind in what you had to tell yourself to survive this.

He was looking for you. He would come. As soon as you could make your move, he would find you. Somehow. If he was truly behind this, then Xavier and Zayne would find you. You had been gone far too long for you to not be missed. This was your courage. And you would be doubly damned by the Gods if you let yourself fail now.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

The day finally came. They had become less vigilant, as you had never once made an effort to break free, and the fire had quickly died in your eyes. They were almost ready to just let you go, figuring you didn't know anything. The only things they could ever extract from you were screams and grunts of agony. You had even overheard them talking amongst themselves several times, talking about their personal lives as if it was another day at an office job.

So when you were ready, you had snuck a small thin object, you think it was a broken paperclip, to pick the locks on your shackles. You made quick work in the inky darkness that surrounded you, but left the shackles on, to lure them into your plan.

The shuffling sounds came up again, and you were ready. You waited for them to casually open the door, like they had been doing so recently, as you let your eyes adjust to the change in light. They were chatting as if it were just a Tuesday, while you let yourself sprint to the door, pushing through the armed guards. They had forgotten you were a trained Hunter, apparently. Because you managed to pull one of their guns and shoot the other point blank.

The one whose weapon you had confiscated had fallen to the ground and to be sure he wouldn't follow, you shot him in the leg. You made a run for the stairs, apparently you were deep underground. It explained the lack of windows and fresh air in the cell.

The stairs were narrow, so it made it difficult as more and more guards began to pour down to apprehend you, and you could only climb over so many grasping bodies as they struggled to hold you while their injuries otherwise incapacitated them. Before long you were forced to throw the empty gun aside and take things head-on. You punched and bit and kicked your way as far as you could, every ounce of your being put into surviving and escaping. But before long you were dragged down and pinned to the stairs, a boot holding you firmly in place by the center of your back.

The man with the piercing eyes chuckled darkly. “I see you have more fight in you than we had thought...I like that.” He pulled your head up by your hair, at least what was left of it, and forced you to look at his other boot. “Lick it, peasant.”

You blacked out from exhaustion before you could do anything, and he tsked angrily. “Fucking bitch...she shot so many of these idiots. Now I have to clean this up.” He turned to those of his men who were still standing or able to stand, and began barking orders. “Carry out the wounded, shoot those who won't make it, and put her back in the cell. This time...I won't let her keep this worthless hope she keeps clinging to. I will take her tonight, and break her.”

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

It had been months now, and Rafayel was wallowing in the abyss of life without you again. But this time was different. You had been ripped from him and he couldn't even find your body to bury. Every day he prayed you were alive, but then cursed himself for it, knowing if you were, you were most likely suffering.

The day had come, and he was burying his face in a hoodie you had accidentally left in his studio one time, sobbing uncontrollably as his phone kept ringing in the background. He ignored it, Thomas' frantic motions against the drowning undercurrent of Rafayel's soul would never be enough to save either of them.

So when he felt your presence, he bolted upright, tears staining his otherwise beautiful but now gaunt face, and he stared in the direction of where he felt you. He had checked there. Many times, in fact. He had suspected you were in the N109 zone, but how you had eluded him for so long, he had no clue. But now you were somewhere he could find you. And he would be damned by the ocean once more if he let this chance slip by.

His flashy sports car was in need of a wash, and so was he, but he hopped in, before speeding off to reach your location all the faster, once again a demon behind the wheel.

But no sooner had he gotten oriented enough to know which road to take, you vanished again. But he suspected you were in that general vicinity, and wasted no time to get to his usual spot where he could enter the zone without interference.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

You were reshackled and struggling to breathe as the man with the piercing eyes was holding you by your throat so that you were partly suspended in the air. Your eyes were squeezed shut. Your escape attempt had failed, and now you knew the final thing that could be taken from you, aside from your life, would be ripped from your body forever.

Tears sprang to life in the corners of your eyes as you imagined Rafayel finding your body after all of this, somehow, and how it would break him. You couldn't give in, but despair was gripping your heart harder than the man currently holding your neck.

“I'm going to break you in so my men can each have a turn. After your little stunt, a lot of them need some comfort and closure from what you did.” Your eyes shot open, and you glared up at him with all the defiance you could muster. And it was greater than the will of the Gods themselves, as the man actually stilled for a moment in shock.

His composure resumed quickly, and he took off his mask to reveal a sinister, toothy grin on what might have once upon a time been a handsome face. There were scars and an obviously previously broken nose, but seeing the rest of his face only steeled your resolve. If he wanted to break you, you would put up the fight of your life.

So when the door opened slowly, the faintly brighter light from outside peeking in to drape across a shadowy figure, he snapped up to yell at whoever it was. “Don't you know I'm busy in here?! Wait your turn, ya filthy fucker!” He dropped you to go push the figure outside and shut the door, but before he could reach a hand out to touch the shadow before you both, his hand was sliced off in a blur.

He paused, taking a moment to process what had happened in a fraction of a second. Then he screamed. That's when the shadow stepped into the light filling the cell, and your eyes adjusted enough to see him.

It was Rafayel, covered in soot and blood, a dagger held in his delicate hand as he stared down the man shouting about his hand that was now laying on the floor, blood draining down to the center of the cell, where a drainage grate resided underneath you. Your eyes welled with tears as you stared in shock. He had found you.

Finally. He was here.

His eyes snapped to you, the look of murderous intent softening before he looked over your frail figure. Clearly they were starving you slowly, and all the scarring and blood, filth, everything that they had done to you, rushed into his mind before he snapped back to the man who had finally regained his senses enough to pull out a dagger.

Rafayel slit his throat and turned him to ash before he could so much as aim the thing. The dagger fell to the ground with a clatter, as well as any other metallic accents to his clothes. You gasped as Rafayel's eyes nearly glowed with hate. He would never forgive anyone who so much as glanced upon you in this state. But when he was done, he swiftly softened, his hands finding the shackles and unlocking them in one smooth motion before you register what's going on.

You manage a hoarse, quiet whisper of his name. “Rafayel...” He softly shushes you and picks you up gently, holding you close against his chest as your thin frame drapes across his arms. “You're okay...I've got you, y/n.” You smile, for the first time in a millennia. It hurts so much to smile, and the tears sting your wounds, but you can't stop it. And before long, you're blacking out as Rafayel ascends the stairs slowly, being sure not to jostle you while he tries to still his heart.

It ached so much to see you in this state, but it brought him so much exuberant joy to see you at least still alive. You drew breath, and that meant he could hold your warm hand again, and slowly help you regain your footing after this harrowing experience.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

He took you to your friend Zayne, since he was a doctor, before anyone else. Xavier was soon notified, and before long you were in your own VIP hospital room. Rafayel never left, even when you were being stripped naked and washed down carefully, and even Zayne had to look away with a blush. Rafayel kept watch, and nearly hissed at a nurse who tried to shoo him out of the ICU room.

Zayne had asked all the staff attending to you to be very careful, and even warned them that Rafayel might not cooperate if asked to leave the room. He had acquiesced to the fact that the purple haired man was going nowhere. Which he secretly couldn't blame him. He remembers the night you were admitted.

When you had been carried into the hospital by Rafayel, Zayne stood still in his tracks when he glanced up to find you looking half dead in his arms. Zayne shouted orders louder and faster than ever, and before long Rafayel was following a gurney into an operating room, despite many personnel pushing against him. He was firm, and unrelenting, so Zayne sighed and made him clean up and put on scrubs to stay sterile.

Rafayel silently watched over the surgery, his eyes looked like he was making a prayer to the last God or Goddess still listening, and asking for the only wish he would ever ask again.

That was a week ago.

You were looked after, and whenever he could, Rafayel held your hand. His sharp eyes kept staring into your soul, praying, willing you to wake once more. He kept his focus on you, unless a nurse came in with a new IV bag, a new drug, then he became vigilant to ensure it was safe. Zayne had given up on assuring him that he would never do you harm, because Rafayel nearly interrogated every nurse that came into the room, even to check your temperature.

But he finally relented to his situation, when he demanded Xavier keep watch while he passed out in the chair next to you, hand still holding yours. Zayne also stood vigil whenever he could spare the time, and a rotating shift of sorts came into being while you were unconscious.

A nurse had taken pity on your hair, as it had been pulled out in places, and shorn in others to shame you. She had done her best to wash it and trim it so that it would look better than it had been (she made sure to do it while Zayne was taking a shift, so she wouldn't have to fight a certain someone over it). Another nurse would bring food for whoever was on shift, though it was usually barely touched. Rafayel especially couldn't bring himself to eat, except when he collapsed once or twice, and Zayne pointed out how guilty you would feel knowing he was starving himself to death.

So after a great deal of staring down from Zayne and Xavier collectively, Rafayel conceded and ate some food. But he never left the room, even then. He thought the food was disgusting, and could barely swallow. But he willed himself to do it, for your sake.

Another week passed, and you were finally making stirrings. Your hand flexed a little in Rafayel's grip, and he sat straight up in that same moment, light returning to his dulled eyes, the numb restless sleep escaping from his form. You stirred, making a groan as the morphine had worn off. “Nnnnh...” Rafayel had to resist tightening his grip on your hand, as your poor fingers had been broken when punching a guard in the dick. If he had known that fact, he would be so proud of you, broken fingers and all.

He hit the nurse call button immediately, and started to shush you as you struggled slightly. “Shhh...y/n, you're safe. You're at the hospital. It's me, Rafayel...I promise...you're okay now...” You heard his voice over the high pitched tinnitus piercing your senses, and you sighed, settling back into the bed as you could barely move anyways. You tried to turn your head to look at him, but your muscles ached even doing that. “It's okay, I'm right here.” He squeezed your palm gently to let you know it was true. “I'm not going anywhere, okay?”

Zayne was notified upon Rafayel's press of the nurse call button, and came rushing in within a few minutes, despite being on the other side of the hospital. He was panting as Rafayel was talking softly to you, as your eyes began to close again. “Did she wake up? Did she say anything?” Rafayel nods then shakes his head, as he strokes your cheek through the bandages, as you fall back into your slumber, this time your muscles relax and you let yourself drift into a dream, instead of the never ending nightmares from before.

It took another two days before you woke up again, but this time you were more coherent, and you managed to sit up with the assistance of the adjustable bed. You stared at Rafayel for a long time before a whisper managed to escape your lips. “...you found me...” Rafayel almost didn't hear you, but he gave you the saddest smile upon realizing your words. “I did...I'm sorry it took me so long...” You tried to shake your head, but it was too much, so you just whispered. “No...you made it just in time...thank you...”

Your voice was hoarse and weak, but your once tight and guarded heart now relaxed and relished in the affection as Rafayel still held your hand, and gently brushed the hair out of your face, or caressed your cheek to comfort you, and many other tiny gestures that melted your heart as he whispered soft words to you. “You're going to be okay, y/n...Zayne is here, and Xavier will be in soon too...everyone missed you so much...” He looks down at his hand holding yours for a moment before he lets out a soft whisper you almost don't hear. “...especially me...”

You give another smile, although it hurts, it is genuine and happy. Hearing that somehow gives you confidence that you were right to trust him. He would never have done this to you, he would have never put you through hell like this just as some sick test. He clearly cared about you, how could you ever have thought those horrible things?

The nurse call button was pressed once more, and soon Zayne came rushing in, while Rafayel was texting Xavier with one hand to do his due diligence and let his new...I guess he'd call him a friend? Know what was going on. Zayne began to check on your wounds, checking every inch of you that he could to make sure you were mending.

“You seem to be doing better, y/n. Do you think you can manage some water?” A tiny nod from you prompts him to step out to hail a nurse, but there's already a crowd of them outside the door, and he sends one to get water for you. You glance at Rafayel as he just smiles warmly at you, his haunted face being pulled into a new expression for the first time in months. “...I want rose milk tea...” You let yourself smirk cheekily as Rafayel gives your hand a quick squeeze. “Soon, y/n...just wait until you can manage something more than water first, okay?” You nod a little and then turn your head slightly when a nurse brings in a pitcher of water, a glass, and a straw on a tray.

You have your first sip of water for the first time in what feels like forever, and you feel refreshed once more in that moment. The cool water slides down your throat and then sinks into your empty stomach, where it suddenly growls loudly in response. “O-oh...” Rafayel chuckles a little, and Zayne clears his throat. “You'll be able to eat solid foods soon, y/n. Just please be patient until we can take care of the bigger problems first.” You nod, and take another sip. You try to take a long, greedy sip, but Rafayel pulls the straw away.

“You're going to choke if you drink too fast...” He chides gently as you pout at him a little. But you understand, as you almost choke on the water you managed to get into your mouth.

Xavier comes in, panting, as he had to push past the mass of nursing staff and hospital personnel outside the door, and leans on the foot of the bed staring at you, mouth agape. “Y/n...you're awake!” You give him a small smile and nod. Your voice is still weak and rough, but you manage a teasing “...and still kicking.”

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

It had been a month since your first day awake, and you had been released from the hospital to your apartment yesterday. You had to hobble around with a cane, as you still suffered from muscular atrophy, and some serious fractures. Bone mending had come a long way since the need for casts or months of recover, but you still had to be careful while you puttered around your apartment, already bored out of your mind.

You got to catch up on some shows yesterday, but that started to bore you, and some of the darker elements brought you flashing back to your time in that cell again. So you'd turn off the tv and stare at the black screen's reflection of you, still thin, weak, and pale. The scars would fade with time, but you also figured it might make you look tougher to other Hunters, so you were almost proud of them.

Your phone buzzed against your thigh, as you looked down. It was Rafayel texting you.

Rafayel: Are you home?

Y/n: Yeah...I'm under house arrest for the foreseeable future...

Rafayel: Good. I'm outside, I can see your light on. Can you meet me at the door?

Y/n: Just wait, I can come unlock it

Before you have a chance to grab your cane, there comes a gentle knock at the door. You grin a little as you slowly make your way to the door, where Rafayel stands behind a large bouquet of...yellow dandelions? How did he know they were your favorite? And don't most people regard them as an annoying weed? You let out a gasp at the display before you. He was wearing his best suit, and had something behind his back, as he beamed a beautiful smile at you.

He had been with you at the hospital the entire time, but he had been eating more, resting more, and spoke more and more like himself once again. So you had watched him come back from the brink of an abyssal spiral into depression he might not have survived, while he watched you come back from the brink of death.

He handed the bouquet to you before gently guiding you back into your apartment. “Come on...I have a treat for you, y/n. I promise you'll love it...” Before you can say anything, he shuts the door behind him and goes to set a large bag of takeout on your small dining table. You let out a weak laugh, as it still aches to strain your ribs too much. But you smile at him as he sets out all the containers on the surface, going to grab some plates and utensils, as you slowly make your way to the chair nearest you.

“Rafayel, you didn't have to do all this...aren't you tired? You barely slept yesterday...”

Rafayel shakes his head adamantly, like a spoiled child being told they had to do something they didn't want to do. “I had to, y/n. If it's for you, nothing is too much...” You blush at his statement, having been reminded recently of the last text you had sent Rafayel before you were sure you were going to be killed.

“O-oh...by the way...Rafayel...y-you can disregard that text from before...y-y'know...that one...”

He stops what he's doing and strides over to you in two long steps. His eyes are piercing through your soul and deep into your heart, exposing every facet of you in a far more embarrassing way than simply baring your naked skin to him. He takes your free hand in both of his and gives your aching knuckles the softest of kisses. “I will never forget that text...” He whispers a breath over your knuckles. You blush more and try to pull it away reflexively. “A-ah...i-it's okay...” He shakes his head and holds your hand against his chest now. “No, y/n. It's not okay...I didn't find you before everything happened to you...” He takes a hand away from yours to gently stroke along your jaw and then run his thumb across your cheek.

“I love you, too, y/n.”

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

a/n: this kept me up all last night writing an outline on my phone, so if I didn't finish this I would be upset with myself haha

If you have any requests, please feel free to send an ask, I would love to hear them!

[punchdrunkdoc]

Part 2, Chapter 9

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness?

Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 3 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

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PART 2

Chapter 9

Matt tried to hold on to his positivity over the next 24 hours. But it became increasingly difficult as the doubts started to multiply inside him.

It all started with a text message.

Or rather, with an ignored text message.

I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you left. Can you let me know you arrived okay? I’ll be safe out there, if you promise to do the same. Matt.

He sent it straight after he listened to Calina’s voicemail. But he didn’t get a reply.

He figured she must be tired from her journey to…wherever it was the Widows called home. He figured she would respond in a few of hours when she’d gotten some rest. But by mid morning, there was still nothing. So he sent another message.

 Hey, please text when you get the chance, to let me know you got there okay. I’m in the office all day, so I’ll have my phone with me.

 Nothing.

And after several more hours of compulsively checking his messages, unease started to grow. Was she safe? Had she made it back to the Widow’s base? Had gotten in trouble en route?

Or was something else going on?

He replayed her voicemail again, hunting for any clues that might explain the doubts he was now experiencing. Doubts about whether she was telling the truth when she said she’d be home soon.

But her voice sounded…fine.  Completely normal. There was no hint of anger, or evidence that she was upset or hurt.

She sounded fine.

But she’d been trained her whole life to pretend, hadn’t she? She’d been trained to lie. To create a false persona, and manipulate people with words. And he’d seen first hand how easily she was able to deceive him...

So maybe he couldn’t trust her words, or the calm tone of voice she spoke them in.

He listened again, even more carefully.

“I’m sorry to leave like this, but Yelena called. The Widows found something - about what happened to me - and they need my help with it. So I’m headed back to the base for a few days.

I’ll keep in touch - as much as I can.

I…um… ….

Nevermind.

Take care, Matt. Be safe out there.” 

That pause…She'd brushed it away with a murmured ‘Nevermind’, but there'd been a distinct pause. And the more he listened, the more he convinced himself that that pause was in fact filled with everything she wanted to say, but couldn’t.

Or wouldn’t.

That pause was the real message. The rest was fake. She was just pretending that her sudden departure was all about Widows' stuff and had nothing to do with his rejection of her.

Just like he pretended last night that he hadn’t rejected her at all.

Shit!

He needed to drop his pretence, so that she’d drop hers. He needed to be honest, so that she would be honest in return.

He still didn’t know what to say about what happened between them. But it was starting to feel imperative that he say something. So after getting home from work, he dialled her number.

But it just rang and rang and rang.

His nerves taut with unease, he hung up and typed out another message:

 I’m sorry for last night. At the gym. And I’m sorry for afterwards, for pretending it didn’t happen. Please call me when you get the chance, Calina. We need to talk. I want to fix this between us. Please.

 After another few hours of silence, he sent a final message before heading out for the night as Daredevil.

 Please call. I miss you.

 It was the truth. But that fucking wall around his heart fought him on even that measly amount of honesty. His gloved finger hovered over the send button for a long time before he finally found the courage to push it.

Then he switched off his phone, unable to bear the silence emanating from it any longer.

When he turned it back on in the morning - after a brutal night on the streets and a restless night alone in their bed - he was greeted with more of that damning silence. And by the time he got to work, his unease had turned into full blown panic. He paced his office, his phone pressed against his ear as he listened to Calina’s phone ring out. 

The moment Foggy and Karen arrived, he marched into the front office and ambushed them. “Did Calina say anything the other night?”

“Good morning to you too, Matt,” Foggy teased as he shrugged out of his coat.

“This is important, Fog. Did she say anything?”

Karen answered instead. “She said she had a headache, so she left early. We never really got a chance to talk to her.”

“I offered to walk her home, but she said she was fine by herself,” Foggy added. “Why? What’s going on?”

“She left," Matt replied. "She left me."

“What? What do you mean?”

“She wasn’t there when I got home. She left me a voicemail saying the Widows had a lead on what happened to her so she needed to go back to them for a few days. But I haven’t heard from her since and I’ve been calling and texting…”

He waited for their reassurances. For an ‘I’m sure she’s okay’ or ‘its probably nothing’. But there was just a heavy silence. And he sensed the two of them looking at each other, concern radiating from them.

As well as…guilt?

“What is it?” he asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“When she came back from the bathroom that night, she looked upset,” Karen said. “And just before that, Foggy and I had been talking about…We were worried that she might have overheard us, because she left straight after.”

Matt got a sinking feeling in his gut. “What were you talking about?”

Karen twisted her clasped hands and Foggy shifted on his feet.

“What the hell were you talking about?” Matt repeated, his voice louder now.

“We were talking about you and Elektra,” Karen replied, her voice unsteady.

“I was talking about you and Elektra,” Foggy clarified, stepping in front of her. “Karen was just listening to my theory.”

“Your theory?” Matt bit out. “What exactly is your theory?”

“That because you’re still in love with Elektra, you’re maybe - subconsciously - using Calina as a way to make up for not saving her.”

“Jesus, Foggy! What the fuck?” Matt turned on his heel and raced back into his office.

“She might not have heard!” Foggy called from behind him.

But Matt knew the truth.

She heard.

It explained why she’d suddenly left and why she wasn’t taking his calls.

Fuck!

This was a nightmare.

He grabbed his phone off his desk and mashed the redial button. He needed to speak with her. He needed to tell her that Foggy’s theory was complete and total bullshit. He needed to beg her forgiveness and plead with her to come home.

He needed to hear her voice and know that he hadn’t lost her forever.

He listened to her phone ring and ring, but this time he didn't hang up.

He wouldn't.

He would keep calling until she finally answered.

 ———

 “Will you answer that thing, or fucking chuck it out the window or something?” Yelena growled.

Calina had already muted the ringtone, but the sound of the phone vibrating in her pocket was audible in the room. It had been ringing on and off for what felt like hours - and every time she declined the call, another one would come through minutes later.

Matt wasn’t taking the hint.

He’d texted her again a couple of hours ago, so at least she knew why he was being so insistent.

 I know you heard what Foggy said at the bar. It’s not true, Calina. Please answer the phone so I can explain. Please.

 She’d read that message a million times, but couldn’t bring herself to believe his words. He was just feeling guilty, that was all. He was a good man - a good, Catholic man - it was natural for him to feel guilty about hurting her.

“You know I can’t answer it,” Calina sighed. “And I can’t turn it off or ‘chuck it out the window’ - I’m still waiting to hear back from Melina.”

Yelena typed a quick message on her own phone then held it up. “Problem solved. Melina will text me with the dosage, so can you please do something about that phone?”

Calina nodded and powered off the device. Everyone in the room groaned in relief, causing Calina to duck her head in embarrassment.

Inessa, one of the youngest members of the group raised her hand. “I must have missed something - why exactly are you ignoring Matt?”

To Calina’s surprise - and consternation - every single Widow now knew about Matt. 

Anya couldn’t keep her mouth shut about him being Daredevil - which they all thought was pretty cool - and then Yelena told them all Calina was living with him - which they found even cooler.

She was the first of them to try to make a life for herself. The first to get a job. The first to get her own apartment.

And the first to live with a man.

They were all fascinated.

And it completely unnerved Calina. It was as if they were all looking to her to set an example. To show them the way. To show them it was possible to leave the life of a Widow behind. It was a big responsibility - with a hell of a lot of pressure attached.

And she felt like she was failing.

“Yeah,” Sofia chimed in. She was another Widow from Calina’s cohort, but they’d never spoken much growing up. Sofia came across as very…intense. “What happened between you two?

Calina looked around the room. The Widows were camped out in the main living space as they waited to hear back from Melina. The older Widow had developed her own version of a truth serum and they were going to try it out on the man downstairs. But she needed to calibrate the dosage first - apparently there was a fine line between getting answers and causing a cardiac arrest.

The mission was going smoothly so far. Calina had ridden her motorcycle through the night and had arrived at the Widow’s temporary operational base outside Washington just before sunrise. She’d managed to grab five hours of - restless - sleep on one of the empty cots, then she’d joined the other Widows for the strategy session.

That night, she’d suited up, and joined the team to infiltrate Volkov’s residence.

And it had been easy as hell. Almost too easy.

Volkov was either supremely arrogant or extremely stupid, because he was living alone, with no bodyguards or security personnel. Which meant the eight-strong Widow strike team that extracted him seemed like massive overkill.

They’d transported him blindfolded and sedated to the mansion in South Carolina, and now he was tied up in a fortified room in the basement, guarded by Anya and another Widow named Alyona. The rest of them were taking a break while they waited for the next step in the plan. 

They made a strange sight, lounging around the cream-coloured mansion in their Black Widow suits. Combat boots were resting on the antique oak coffee table in the centre of the room, and various guns and weapons were stowed on the mantle over the ornate fireplace, battling for space with chintzy knicknacks and floral-scented candles.

It was a stark juxtaposition - one the other Widows didn’t seem to find as jarring as Calina did. But she’d had the benefit of living in the ‘real’ world for the past few months, where people didn’t dress in black neoprene jumpsuits while relaxing around the house.

She looked down at her own jumpsuit, and grimaced. She’d reverted right back to the Widow’s mindset the moment she’d left New York. She even had her hair in braids.

A lifetime of habit was hard to break.

“Calina?” Inessa said, interrupting her thoughts. “Do you not want to talk about it?”

Inessa was a relatively shy girl, and so petite and slender. She must have had skills - there was no way she’d have gotten through the Red Room otherwise - but she always looked so fragile and delicate to Calina. She brought out all of Calina’s protective instincts.

And, unfortunately, Calina could never resist indulging her questions. Maybe that was Inessa’s hidden skill.

“There’s not much to tell,” Calina replied, trying to downplay the hurt and humiliation she was feeling. “I misunderstood what was between us, that’s all.”

It was the same line she’d given Yelena and Anya when they’d met her in Washington yesterday. They’d accepted it with a nod, but Inessa wasn't put off so easily. “What do you mean?”

“I…,” Calina was spared from answering when Yelena’s phone pinged and everyone sprang back into action-mode.

“It’s from Melina.” Yelena confirmed, reading the message. “Sofia and Kira, you take this and start prepping the drug, we’ll follow you down.” She handed them her phone, and they took off running for the basement. The rest of the team filtered out of the room, leaving Calina alone with Yelena and Katya. 

Yelena marched ahead, intent on starting the interrogation, but Katya stopped Calina with a gentle hand on her arm. “I know there something more going on between you and Matt than a mere misunderstanding,” Katya said softly. “You can talk to me if you want.”

She took Calina’s hand and gave it a supportive squeeze. The move took Calina by surprise - the Widows weren’t demonstrative people and usually only touched each other during sparring sessions. But she was learning that - away from the Red Room, and out from under the control of the serum - Katya was a very caring and empathetic person. The simple, kind touch made her feel like they were becoming true friends.

And it made her want to open up. She just wasn’t sure where to start. “I…we…,” she faltered.

“What is it? What happened?”

“I…I fell in love,” she whispered. “And he didn’t. He barely even saw me as a friend.” Saying the words aloud hurt. They wrenched something deep in her chest, and caused tears to gather at the back of her eyes.

“Oh, Calina. Are you sure?”

She let out a bitter laugh. “That I love him? Yes, unfortunately.”

“No, I meant that he doesn’t love you back. We saw the two of you together, remember? It was clear that he cared about you very much.”

“No offence, but what do you know about reading other people’s feelings? What do any of us know?  We never grew up seeing love and care and affection. We don’t know what it looks like. I know what it feels like, but I don’t know what it looks like. And I made the mistake with Matt of misinterpreting his basic sense of compassion and responsibility for something much more. I was a fool, Katya.”

“Don’t say that.”

Calina pulled away from the other Widow. “I know you guys want me to trail-blaze some path for you all, but I’m floundering out there. It’s so hard. Nothing in our training prepared us for it. I can play a role and pretend to be someone else in my sleep, but I have no idea how to be me. I have no idea how to deal with all these…feelings…I keep having.”

Katya frowned. “I’m so sorry. We all just assumed you were happy out there. That you were thriving away from all…this.”

“I was happy. For a while.” She crossed her arms over her chest and kicked at the ground. “You know that proverb, ‘After a storm comes fair weather; after sorrow comes joy’? I think it should be the other way around, ‘After joy comes sorrow’.”

“I’m sorry,” Katya said again. She shrugged, and gave Calina a sad smile. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“That’s okay. Thanks for listening.”

“That’s what sisters are for.” Katya hooked an arm through Calina’s and the two of them started walking towards the basement. After a few moments of silence, Katya spoke again. “What is it like?” she asked shyly.

“What?”

“Being in love?”

Calina thought back to that moment in the gym - the moment of realisation, before she’d leaned towards Matt and ruined everything - when her feelings had finally crystallised. Then she tried to put it into words.. “It’s…its like that sensation you get when you jump out of an airplane - that weightless, exhilarating, heart-pumping thrill. You feel like you’re on top of the world and can do anything. But when its unrequited love, its like your parachute never opened and you collided with the ground at a million miles an hour.”

“Oh,” Katya said quietly. “So it’s wonderful, but it also kind of sucks.”

“Yeah. It really, really sucks.”

 ———

 Never had a man suited his name better than Maxim Volkov.

In English, it translated to Great Wolf, and he embodied that moniker completely. He was a big man, with a wild, predatory look to his eyes. Even strapped to a chair, with several guns trained on him, he looked calm and in control as he sized up the Widows surrounding him.

He barely spared a glance as Sofia prepped his arm and administered the truth serum. She was the medic of the group - trained from a young age in combat surgery to assist in missions. She had a terrible bed-side manner, but a steady pair of hands and an encyclopaedic knowledge of medicine. 

“How long until it takes affect?” Yelena asked. She was sitting cross-legged on the counter that ran along the wall directly in front of Volkov. The basement had originally been used as a laundry room, but the Widows had removed all the washers and dryers, and embedded hooks for restraints in the ceiling and the tiled floor. It looked exactly like what it was - an interrogation chamber.

No, a torture chamber.

Because that’s what they were about to do - torture this man. Not using violence, but by cracking open his mind against his will. And no one knew how torturous that was than the Widows in this room.

Yelena relished the idea - she was dying to turn the tables on the men of the Red Room - but Calina felt uncomfortable.

She kept wondering what Matt would think of all this.

She knew he wasn’t averse to using brutal tactics to get answers - she’d seen him beat people for information on the streets. But there was something…honest about that method. This felt too underhanded. Too close to the Red Room tactics.

And she wanted to be better than that. 

But at heart, she was a pragmatist, and she knew that taking the high road had never gotten anyone, anywhere. The Widows needed answers. They needed to know how much of a threat they faced - their survival depended on it - and this was the best method available to them. A member of the Red Room would be able to withstand threats of violence and physical pain. But no one could withstand this serum - at least, according to its creator.

“Melina said it would be fairly instantaneous,” Sofia answered.

“Melina Vostokoff?" Volkov asked, his Russian accent thick with distain. "That traitorous bitch? I used to jerk off when I thought about her back in the day - she filled out her suit like no other Widow. Now I just want to put a bullet through her conniving brain.”

The Widows looked at each other, surprised by the candid revelation.

“I guess its working,” Katya remarked.

“Good,” Yelena said. “Let’s see what he knows.”

It turned out, he knew a lot. And none of it was good.

“How many Red Room personnel are still alive?” Yelena asked at one point.

Volkov smiled. “Enough.”

“Be more specific,” Yelena bit out.

“Dreykov had a secret faction of Red Room operatives that worked just for him - off the books and away from the prying eyes of the Kremlin. They survived your little purge after Dreykov’s fall because you had no idea they existed - very few did.”

“But you did.”

“Yes. I’ve always been privy to Dreykov’s secrets. He treated me like a younger brother. And now that he’s gone, I intend to continue the family business.”

“But you were just a handler. You weren’t upper management.”

“Just a handler? Or a man of many talents who went where Dreykov needed, and did what needed to be done?”

“So what was the plan in South Korea? Why was that mission important enough to need your oversight?”

“The Japanese Ambassador was embezzling billions of won from the South Koreans. Dreykov wanted me to steal it from him. After the Red Room fell, I continued the mission, in an attempt to get the money for myself and my faction.” He leered at Katya as he continued answering Yelena's question. “But you stole my little Widow from me, and I had to come up with a Plan B.”

“You had to come up with the plan? So you’re the man in charge of this new faction?”

“Yes. Congratulation, ladies. You won the jackpot.” He leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out as far as his restraints would allow. He looked like he was relaxing in front of the television after a hard day at work, and it started to give Calina a bad feeling. He was too at ease. He didn’t seem to care that he was revealing all this information. He didn’t seem bothered by their questions or the fact that he was answering them against his will. She wondered if there was a sedative effect to the truth serum…but even before it had been administered, he’d been eerily calm.

What did he know that made him so confident?

Yelena continued with her questioning. If she was unnerved by Volkov’s manner, she didn’t show it. “Did that ‘Plan B’ have something to do with what happened to Calina?”

Volkov sighed. “No. Aminev went rogue with that. He was nothing but a common thief. He stole some serum and some tech and decided to go it alone. He betrayed the ideology.”

“How did Aminev find her?”

Volkov’s smile turned feral. “We never lost her. We never lost any of you.”

Calina’s bad feeling exploded into outright panic. And she could feel it rippling through the other Widows in the room.

Even Yelena sounded shaken. “What do you mean?”

“Did you think those chips you dug out of your thighs was our only way of tracking you?” He shook his head, as if disappointed. “You little fools. You’ve been on the grid this entire time. You only had the illusion of freedom. And once we finish manufacturing enough serum to get you all back under control, we’re going to round you up and shatter that illusion.”

He shrugged, and spread his hands. “Or maybe it’ll happen sooner. They’ll be coming for me, you know. Once I miss my check in, the rest of my team will figure out what happened. Then they’ll come for me. And all they’ll have to do is follow the little dots on their screens…all the way to the South Carolina coast.”

———

CHAPTER 10

These next couple of chapters are for all of you who enjoy the ‘Unofficial Black Widow Sequel’ aspect of this fic...

@hollandorks @yanna-banana @stilldreaming666 @tearoseart-blog @chezagnes​ @freckledbabyyy​ @acharliecoxedfan​

[inflammatoryfandomblog]

aaravos’s “roasts” suck so bad. like telling a child king that he’s way over his head? no shit dude. that required infinite brainpower to figure out. trying to shame rayla because she can’t bring herself to kill?? from her perspective, why would that be a bad thing? didn’t she literally help bring peace because of that? callum... is a mage tainted by darkness? well he did cast dark magic bro.

truly excellent insight that strikes right into the insecurities and fears of the main characters, fears that even they didn’t even know about!... wait no it’s not. all of these are lame and anybody who spends an hour with these people can come to the exact same conclusions. the only one that actually stung was soren’s, and that’s because you get the impression that he doesn’t value his life all that much either in that convo with claudia. the rest of the cast? lmao

okay. so i’ll grant callum’s has the potential to be interesting. he doesn’t consider himself a dark mage and has only ever used dark magic once, but the idea that even ��once” is enough should terrify him. like i get this is supposed to be in the show. i get callum is supposed to be slightly spooked by the idea of being corrupted after being posessed and being worried he’s a sleeper agent or something but like. it’s just not explored at all man. it’s just not enough for him to be like ‘kill me rayla’ when there’s 0 further exploration of his feelings about it..

like all he says is “path to darkness” and gets one scene where he fails to drop the aaravos key into the lava, and he decides he needs to do that for some reason. that’s not enough. it’s too vague and neatly separated. that’s not how emotional escalation works. i don’t know how they drop the ball on the main characters so badly. even when soren is a memejoke and misses several critical scenes he still manages to get better moments than any of the 3 mains.

there needs to be more done to establish his fears. it’s what the writers should have been doing instead of populating the plot with worthless travel sidequests.

like you know how in the soren-claudia scene, soren just sort of leaves the question of whether he thinks his life was worth it in the air and everything leads to that point? because it’s a natural conversation between two characters? that scene would have been maybe a bit less effective if instead of that, he turned to corvus in the beginning of the season and was like, “corvus, i suffer from feelings of worthlessness and it’s my fault my father is the way he is, and maybe it would have been better if i had died/i had never been born.” like having the main characters only have negative emotions sequestered away in certain scenes, in such a robotic way, is just not writing that engages the emotions.

instead of something that callum’s actually dealing with in any way, this becomes “oooh set up!!! aren’t you excited?” no i’m not actually. i’m not. stop saving the “”good stuff”” for later and giving me empty calories now. you know how in a mexican restaurant, you gorge on so many free chips that by the time the main food comes, you don’t want to eat it at all? it’s kind of like that.

[athenianwit]

PROMPT 001.

This was the last moment that Atticus could turn away from his fate, perhaps he'd been wrong the entire time; but how could one resist the sweet temptation of power that was promised to Atticus? His mind anxiously pushed back, reminding him what might happen if he failed. The son of Athena stared at the pink elixir in his goblet, contemplating what his father might think right now. Would he be proud of Atticus? Or ashamed that his only son never found the same glory that he once did? He may never know. The demigod had agreed to this journey because he wanted to help people, unlike his father who only cared about personal glory. Before he could talk himself out of it, Atticus brought the golden goblet to his lips and began to drink the ambrosia.

As soon as the last drop touched his lips, Atticus dropped the goblet and quickly tried to clutch onto the statue of his dear mother to keep himself steady though the temple around him quickly began to fade away with nothing but darkness surrounding the demigod. Atticus wanted to scream, clutching at his neck; it felt like the ambrosia was burning him from the inside out yet his voice was lost. Was he one of those unfortunate souls who wouldn't survive this stage and died for nothing? Atticus attempted to think of any possible medical explanation of what was happening but his thoughts were lost in a thick fog, worrying the demigod that he may have lost every piece of knowledge he knew.

Forcing himself back to his feet, the darkness quickly filled with flashes of his own life— memories that had been locked away deep within his own brain, ones he believed were long gone. Years of him sitting alone in his own room with nothing but the books on his shelves to keep himself company, years of his father putting work and his other family over Atticus, and years of the demigod doing anything to win his father's love and failing at every turn. He was never the child Nathaniel wanted, kept purely out of familial obligation and resentment. Even becoming a doctor would never be enough for the man who was now inching closer and closer to death.

His childhood home melted away before him and Atticus was lunged into a memory he desperately wanted to forget but was imprinted in his mind. He was in the room where he did his first surgery. Atticus had assisted in countless others before this one but it wasn't the same. The demigod wanted to scream and tell himself to be careful, not to freeze when his patient needed him most but nothing came out and the only thing he could hear was when she flatlined— the screeching only got louder and louder, until he was convinced his eardrums were going to burst.

And then silence. Before watching himself doing the procedure again, and again, and again.

Shutting his eyes, Atticus wanted this all to stop and return to the world he'd foolishly given up. The flatline screech stopped and as Atticus opened his eyes, he was somewhere different— or so he thought.

The doctor was on his back with a bright light over him and several figures looking down at his body. Atticus didn't process what was going on, until he saw his own face blankly staring back with scapple in one hand. Panic began to set in as the demigod felt the blade cutting into his own flesh, the pain was unlike anything he'd ever experienced— every inch of his flesh felt like it was on fire and for the first time in what felt like hours, his voice returned. Screams filled the room, silencing everything else and yet his pleas and cries for help went unnoticed.

It felt like this was going on for days on end, living through the experience of being cut open over and over again. The only thing Atticus could do now was pray for it to end, was this his own personal hell that would go on forever?

Closing his eyes, trying to do anything to distract his mind from what was happening to himself— the pain was suddenly gone and the feeling of the cold knife against his skin had disappeared.

Snapping back into reality, Atticus' eyes shot open when he felt the cold, tiled floor of the temple under his palms. The demigod must have been drenched in his own sweat, tears still burning down his face as his hands went to examine his chest. Fingertips traced along the phantom scars that he knew would never truly go away. The cuts may have been gone, but he would never forget the pain. Atticus' body felt weak, it took every ounce of strength to pick himself up and rest against his mothers statue. He was alone at least, nobody could see him in such a broken and vulnerable moment like this.

Was this just the beginning? Atticus started to wonder what exactly it was that he got himself into and if he'd be able to survive another encounter like this one....

[the-firebird69]

There could be some mean issues coming up with Tommy f and everybody here no there are major issues that guy is hated they want him out he's a massive blaspheme his talk is worse than Trump he had Trump do this stuff to take his stuff and he tried to find fight the empire and he lost all those ships and he's a collection in a weekly he's weak and we don't like it and a lot of people here hate him and they're letting him know it he's trying to take over by force right now and he's using the ship and he's going to behind it and that sucker is going to take forever to get there and everybody knows who's coming we've never seen so many fools in our life what they're doing is so damn dumb I don't know how to tell you this it looks so stupid this the storm is going 12 miles an hour it has like 300 miles to go and he keeps trying to intensify it and it's failing and he is eroding his ship away to nothing right now and we did scan and we looked and we use their stuff but we see something this this is terrible we need out of this this freaking monkey had to leave years ago he's shooting at our son and he won't shut up about it and now Brian is shooting at Trump as president trying to say he's Brian so yeah he's dangerous and Trump is fighting him up there and he's losing other people are now fighting him and they're holding him off and they're waiting for the ship to arrive and they're building up and they're going to wipe each other out and there are plans to take his ships down get them the hell out of here and they're saying it's the last straw we believe them and we'll probably assist because it's turned into nonsense. The guy is very evil but his forces are now getting pushed out and they are getting pushed back North they took over a lot of military spots and yard positions and the that down to fort Myers and Miami and they started to push in and they got pushed out by everybody and they were not expecting it and they were surprised and now they're going to try and land and drop equipment and they are going to get pushed out on the ship it 50% is unacceptable well we have our own rating system and he would say probably and yeah that's probably it 70% might be it for that size ship and it's true we do have very little safeties for something that big we're going to get a move on here get that thing out of here I'm ready to get up right now and I want others to write it up too and he wants us to commit our troops right now to the effort that we're going to move that thing and I'm going to write it up and send it in with my troops and his people are too and we do appreciate his help but he's in a pickle and can't figure out what would stop something that big from falling on him there's too many damn ships out here because of the two and we have to lay down the law these ships are not allowed to fly around Earth at all is in feeling tankers and that's it.

We're going to get to this now this has been a very foolish couple of decades and we have to straighten everything out we have to raise our armies we're still doing it and he wants me to get on Earth defense systems and into planetary defense systems about this issue because it affects everybody and he wants action an assistance right now and he wants to assemble and scramble emergency Jets and provisions and troops he's having an emergency it's constant and he's telling people that ship there is an emergency it's an idea that went South and it is it is no longer viable we can't use it here because it's a shamble

Thor Freya

Olympus we have several things we can do and he says I like to hear what that is besides pulling me out and you would only have a couple minutes of that it's true too it would be very fast we do have an idea what to do but we can't say what it is now there's a whole bunch of things going on and it's too dangerous he says we don't have a way to stop these ships from falling and we're going to go ahead now he doesn't have time to crash the ship in the earth to show people we have examples and we're going to put it up right now and he takes us and good and he's an ogre and shot at me he wants action he wants people concerned about me and shot to stand up and say it and yell it if you have to and my wife is a mess we can't keep going this way we understand that and the guy didn't help the empire and now they've got four and it's attacking them foreigners so they do see that

[fullonfandomindulgence]

The Same People (4/5) - ID version

Following are three black and white comics pages of characters from the anime Mob Psycho 100, each with an image description below it.

ID: Five panels.

First, the caption, "So that keeps happening," above several figures in the ruined shell of a building. One of them tilts her head back to shout, "Take five, people!" The rubble is rendered with some detail: plaster has cracked off the walls in sheets, cabinets are smashed with their guts scattered, a staircase has collapsed into a pile of junk. The workers are dressed in safety vests. They're carrying and raking in various kinds of rubble. A dumpster is already halfway full and there's so much left to clean up. At the boundary created by the building's foundation there are stakes marking the edges of the worksite. Tsubomi walks a path along one edge, trailing an arrow that says, "Walking home." She looks at one of the workers: Mob, who stands with his head tilted back, rake in one hand, small sweat drops flying off his face.

Second, Mob is facing into the site, away from Tsubomi, so when she comes up behind him to ask "You're volunteering with the cleanup people?" he jumps and says "Uh!"

Third, Mob looks over his shoulder at her, eyes wide, off-put. He's surrounded by the collapsed building and rubble. He says, "H-hi. Yeah. I'm responsible. Uh, for my community."

Fourth, Tsubomi leans her head forward. The trees and buildings behind her seem to lean forward too. She says, "Bet it felt good though." Mob's head is tilted back and his shoulders are off-center, like he's trying to hide. "I--I mean..."

Fifth, Mob stands with his shoulders and head lowered. His expression is a little strange but he is frank as he says, rubble peeking out from behind him, "...Yeah. I-- ...kinda. Yeah."

End ID.

ID: Five panels.

First, Tsubomi and Mob now face each other. Tsubomi tilts her head away to say, "But then there's the consequence. Always consequences." She looks frustrated. Mob looks resigned but a little satisfied to say to her, "Well, yeah."

Second, the ruined street is behind the pair as Mob leans on his rake and changes the subject, "Uh. How's moving?" Tsubomi pushes her hair behind her ear and smiles as she says, "Ha."

Third, a closeup of Tsubomi as she shrugs. A car and a telephone pole are tilted at sharp angles by the torn-up concrete behind her. "...bad, actually. I hate having to like, pack everything away." Her expression is frank.

Fourth, a closeup of Mob. He tilts his head to one side with an expression of sadness and recognition on. His gloved hands overlap one another on top of the handle of the rake.

Fifth, a long shot of the rubble again, Mob and Tsubomi in the corner. Mob, resting his chin on his hands again and looking down, asks, "Is the bad part shoving everything in a box, or is the bad part the empty room?" Tsubomi, also contemplative, looks off to say, "Huh. That's a good question." The rubble in the scene clears as you follow their speech bubbles, which are otherwise illegible, as if you were moving away from them, so you could still tell that they were talking even as they drifted into inaudibility.

End ID.

ID: Four panels.

First, the caption, "T-minus 48 hours. The Kageyama house." The panel is a wide shot of Tsubomi knocking on the Kageyamas' front door. There are little plants lining the edges of the house. Tsubomi stands just under the A-frame overhang, though it's not raining. She's wearing a jacket and pants.

Second, Ritsu opens the door. He stares slightly up at Tsubomi, brows furrowed but otherwise neutral in expression, as Tsubomi says, "Oh, sup, Ritsu. I just wanted to let the Kageyamas know that our house phone number isn't gonna change, in case Mob needs to get hold of me again."

Third, Ritsu just stands there. He maintains his furrowed brow. His eyes are off-center and slightly different sizes. He's surrounded by tentacles of circular lines in every direction. He is silent.

Fourth, Tsubomi walks away. "Okay bye!" This is a small panel. The view is from above the roof so Tsubomi is squashed, her face reduced to lowered eyelids and a resigned smile. From beneath the roof edge, unseen, Ritsu says, "I'll pass it along."

End ID.

[shadowsshowdown]

Deus Ex: Human Revolution Shadow’s Showdown 55

The Zero Hour.

Two days before leaving for Washington. Sarif Industries.

Like a hurricane, Laura stormed into Pritchard's office. She was so furious that no amount of complaining from him could dampen her mood.

"Princess Laura is back!" he snarled ironically, rising from his armchair. "Welcome to the humble thresholds of our company," he continued, making a deep, courtly bow. "Spare me this childishness. I have a lot of work to do before I leave."

Apparently, she hit Frank’s weak spot, because he momentarily took his place in the armchair and pretended to review the data.

"Connor has probably already mentioned I want our security to be an unconquerable fortress," he stated. "He did. So if you'll allow, the princess will now return to her matters."

Francis only snickered in response so she left. Faridah passed her on the way, but she didn't even say hello to her. It's possible that she also has many responsibilities and simply didn't notice Laura.

As soon as she closed the office door behind her, Connor handed her a mug of hot coffee without asking anything. She appreciated the gesture, as did the still-warm croissants with chocolate-nut filling.

"I figured you'd need a solid dose of sweetness, so I ordered them right after you left," he said. "You always think of everything," Laura said, sitting down on a sofa upholstered in brown linen.

The woman set her mug and croissant plate on the coffee table. She took a laptop out of her backpack, placed it next to the mug and turned it on. Connor took his computer, and then took a seat next to Laura.

"Not all people think only of themselves. Besides, I know Pritchard can be an arse most of the time." "It's not because of him," she muttered, trying to log into her account.

Connor had expected such an answer. Frank never made her feel that way. It was always a short-lived anger that passed on its own. This time she was stuck in some strange state that was hard to describe. She looked sad, angry and lost. He watched her making a mistake every time she tried entering her password. He surmised who was to blame but preferred not to ask.

"I met Adam. He yelled at me because he's jealous of you and still thinks I should stay away," she sighed. "I've had enough of that." "You shouldn't be venting your anger. You're both stressed about Washington. When you return, try to talk to him and explain everything." "Why should I..." "See, you're doing it again. You are floating with pride. Why you? Because you are more reasonable and mature. That's the overtone this move will have." "You're right," she sighed. "As usual." "I don't mean to be right. I'm just trying to suggest a solution." "We'd better get on with what's important first. We don't have much time, and I haven't even packed my suitcase."

Connor nodded in agreement. He momentarily dropped the topic he had started and turned on his laptop. Laura still couldn't log in to her company account, so without asking Pritchard, he restored her old privileges. For several hours they checked the company's security code, applying fixes in some places.

"Look, this part is kind of weird," the man remarked.

Laura stretched and yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. "Yes, because this is a rarely used form of coding. Few people know about it," she explained.

"I think it can be left that way. Anything that's not obvious can be helpful," the man shrugged.

Connor wasn't entirely sure of this decision, but he trusted Laura. The clock on the computer announced it was lunchtime so, after much protest, he managed to persuade the hacker that they should eat something and rest. Although the Camarilla Club was further away than The Jackdaw, they went right there. It would be better to avoid another meeting with Adam.

Sarif Industries. The Jackdaw.

Jensen spent all his time in the office reviewing the backlog of cases and accepting new ones. On top of all that, he still had to give orders before leaving. He felt like the stack of files wasn't diminishing at all, and his eyes were starting to sting from looking at the computer screen. Pushing off lightly with his heels, he moved along with the armchair almost under the cabinet leaning against the back wall. Lighting a cigarette, he stood up and with a determined step paced the distance separating him from the door. Faridah was his only hope for at least temporary salvation. Of course, he reckoned she might ask about Laura, but if he had to be honest, he needed this conversation. The crowd in the corridor was still large, so it took him longer than he thought to reach Malik's office. With a quiet knock on the glass door, he pulled the woman away from her work.

"No, thank you. We don't want any more visitors, well-wishers, or distant relations!"

He heard her disgruntled voice, but that didn't deter him at all. "How about a very old friend?" he asked, swinging the door open.

"Adam? What are you doing here?" she asked surprised, furrowing her brow. "I came to take you for lunch. Don't refuse, I'm tired of paperwork. Because of this Washington thing, the whole company is standing on its head, and Pritchard seems to feel like a boss," he sighed, finishing smoking a cigarette. "All in all, why not? I've been hanging around here all morning with no visible chance of a break," she said, saving what she had managed to do so far and turning off the computer. "We'll pick up Laura on the way, too, won't we?" Jensen twitched nervously, hearing her suggestion. "No," he replied reluctantly. "I'd like to talk to you." "A-ha. This tone of yours means it's something serious," she muttered, dressing her orange jacket over a black wool turtleneck.

Fortunately, the euphoria was slowly coming to an end and the people heretofore crowded like ants in an anthill had managed to disperse so the way to the exit was less troublesome.

On the street, they inhaled the frosty air and went straight to The Jackdaw. Although he had said earlier they would not take Laura, he silently hoped for the opposite course of events. As usual, they were greeted by the bartender and took their favourite corner seat. Malik ordered a Tortuga Soup, as did Adam, and a salmon filet in puff pastry. The Head of Security chose the rare steak.

"What did you want to talk about? How's your leg, anyway?" "My leg, it's fine," he lied, because he still had a lot of trouble with walking, and against the doctor’s advice he didn't want to use a cane. Adam was killing constant pain by taking more Vicodin than he should. "It's all about Laura. I have a feeling that we're starting to distance ourselves from each other again," he said quietly as if he wanted Faridah not to hear it. "I'll say frankly I find it hardly surprising. Joe was her friend. Probably the only one she had at the time." "Faridah," he interrupted her in a rough tone. "I think it's more than just a friendship. Maybe I'm exaggerating, but my gut tells me I'm right." "Talk to her. Lately, the conversations have been coming out better and better for you. Didn’t they?" she suggested while sipping green tea. "Not really," the man muttered, sighing deeply at the same time. "Has Laura done something wrong again?" "This time the fault lies with me," he admitted openly. "After our week together Laura was supposed to move in to my place but apparently Rupert said something that influenced her to change the decision. I accepted it. I thought she needed a moment alone after what happened. Meanwhile, she kept meeting Connor, despite my warnings." "Wait a minute, because I don't think I understand it correctly. Are you jealous? You?" she said surprised. "I'm not!" he protested. "Connor's files were not in the database. They appeared there suddenly, right after I discovered their absence. I'm sure of it. I told her about it, but she didn't believe it. I did it out of concern, and Laura ignored it. During that week, I haven't heard from her at all." "Adam, I know how you feel but she doesn't know it. When you return from Washington, you will explain everything. And stop being so suspicious because she will think you are controlling her and the effect will be even worse."

The Security Chief slowly nodded, after which they both busied themselves with their meal.

Camarilla Club. Sarif Industries. Laura's apartment.

"He wants to control me!" growled the hacker, stabbing a piece of apple pie with her fork. "He thinks he can dictate what I can do and with whom I can meet." "Hey, hey, slow down. Adam is not like that. Although I don't know him that well I think he's more the type of person who protects rather than imposes his own will." "Are you suggesting I'm misjudging his intentions?"

"I think so," he risked exposing himself to her fury.

Laura closed her eyes, looking down at her cup of earl grey tea. "Maybe you're right," she admitted.

Connor was surprised by her reaction. However, he couldn't tell if it was a sign of a mature approach or if the hacker had just given up.They finished their dessert in silence and then returned to the company. Adam was not around so they avoided another confrontation. For the rest of the time, they finished the security check and wrote a report.

"I didn't even ask him how he was feeling," she said quietly, putting on her jacket. "You can always call or visit him at home."

The woman nodded and left. Being in the lobby, she noticed the Security Chief's office was dark. It didn't look like he had lowered the blinds so he must have already left the company. Enriched with this information, she returned home.

Laura stood on the sidewalk for a quarter of an hour with the Chiron apartment building in front of her. She lacked the courage to go inside, and when she finally gathered it, she couldn't put together in her head what she wanted to say. She stepped into the elevator, and her fear grew as she approached her destination.

"Good evening Mr Jensen. Sorry to disturb you..." she repeated quietly.

Her finger trembled but she managed to control herself and pressed the bell. Silence answered her so she repeated the action two more times. Adam wasn't home, or he didn't want to see her. She sighed straight at the closed door and took the elevator down to the first floor. With a quick pace, she crossed the road and in a split second, she was at her door. She took off her shoes, jacket and hat, then yelled at Stalker just because he came to greet her. From the living room window, she saw that the blinds were down in Adam's apartment. She didn't have the strength to speculate. She packed the most necessary clothes in her suitcase and her laptop along with two phones in her backpack. She took a quick shower, fed the cat, and then went to bed even though it was only seven in the evening.

Confusion will be my epitaph As I crawl a cracked and broken path If we make it we can all sit back and laugh But I fear tomorrow I'll be crying Yes, I fear tomorrow I'll be crying Yes, I fear tomorrow I'll be crying

Crying Crying Yes, I fear tomorrow I'll be crying Yes, I fear tomorrow I'll be crying Yes, I fear tomorrow I'll be crying Crying

One day before leaving for Washington. Laura's apartment. 6:15 a.m.

The sound of the ringing alarm clock made her furious. She didn't feel like getting up. While still in her pyjamas, with her hair tousled, she went to the kitchen and forced herself to eat at least a few spoonfuls of cereal. The next sound that disturbed her was the doorbell. The woman furrowed her eyebrows, surprised that someone was visiting at six in the morning. The hope that it was Adam was extinguished as soon as she opened the door.

"Good morning! Ready for the big day?" "Connor, it's you," she muttered without enthusiasm. "Come in." "Oh no, my dear. That's not a way to start the day," he protested, setting down his bag and backpack in the hall. "I went to see Adam yesterday, but he wasn't there. Or he's avoiding me." "Today you will definitely meet," he assured, but Laura was closer to tears than joy so he gave her a friendly hug. "I know you won't listen anyway, but your attitude is also important in achieving success." "A-ha." "Get dressed, because we don't have much time," he urged.

When the woman went to get dressed, Connor fed the cat again. No doubt they had a good relationship with each other. She returned a quarter of an hour later, reluctantly put on her shoes, jacket and hat, then left dragging her suitcase behind her as if she were going to a beheading. The man was clearly amused but made a serious face whenever she looked at him.

"Don't worry," he broke the silence, recognizing it was taking too long. "We'll fly there together. It's already been decided. Adam is flying with Megan and Faridah. Sarif has a separate flight."

When they stepped out onto the street, Laura reflexively looked up at the Chiron building. It was dark at Adam's place, so he is definitely already in the company.

Sarif Industries. 7:20 am.

Laura was sick of hearing about Washington, D.C. Nearly everyone they passed on the way to the office talked only about it. Some were excited because they would get the honour of being there, while others regretted it. The hacker really wanted to approach one of these people and tell them to fly instead, but Connor kept her close. Right after she left her suitcase, Francis called. They had to show him the report and assure him everything was fine. In fact, he envied them this trip.

Connor was more patient during the visit with the boss. While waiting to hear what Pritchard would say, he stared dispassionately at the wall. The hacker nervously stomped her shoe on the floor with what apparently annoyed Frank, because the latter wriggled in his chair.

"This looks pretty good," muttered Frank looking at the computer screen.

Connor and Laura were happy to be about to leave the daunting place, but their joy was premature.

"There's a mistake here. Another one here. You must correct it immediately. Then we'll check everything in practice, and then we'll see." "We don't have time for that," protested the hacker. "Remember that you are here only because Adam helped you. I won't be so kind, and if necessary I'll kick your sorry arse from one end of the company to the other."

Grabbing Laura’s hand, Connor signalled her to let go.

"Okay, we'll correct that right away," she replied reluctantly, yielding. "You still have to go to server room G. There's something strange going on there, so you'll plug in the computer and check the drives. One of them is malfunctioning, but from here I can't tell which one. It looks like it was heavily used by someone recently." "Maybe someone from Dr Reed’s team is copying the test results?" suggested Connor. "Possibly, but we need to be sure."

They both left Frank's office in wicked moods. They had hoped he wouldn't be so demanding today, but he was clearly jealous of their departure.

"We won't make it in time with everything," the woman complained.

The man looked at his watch. "We still have plenty of time before departure. If we hurry, we can make it."

Again, that calmness of his was infecting her as well. Thanks to the RK800 agility, they quickly reached his office.

"This morning you said we didn't have much time," she noted. "I said so because you would go back to sleep. We fly late in the evening or even at night. The whole puppet theatre doesn't start until tomorrow, but I don't know what time. Everything is top secret." "Great," she sighed. "We'd better fix what Frank ordered because he won't give up. Do you still have no doubts about that line of code I showed you?" "No, I don't. I'm sure it's correct. But I am puzzled why Frank has doubts about something we don’t." "You're kidding. You've known him longer than I have, so you should know he wants to keep us busy with something by force. He can't stand the fact that he won't always be a star of the show." "I think you're right. Let's leave it as it is and check what's going on in the server room. I've got bad feelings about this." "Come on, it's probably another Pritchard paranoia. At worst, the drive is breaking down, or the power cable has come loose," he tried to reassure her. "Let's hope you're right," she replied, zipping up the backpack into which she had stowed the laptop."

Connor took the necessary things, then they left the office and after a while took the elevator down to the underground, where the servers were located. The hall was huge, divided into sectors separated by glass walls. It took them quite a while to find sector G. They were even about to give up, but Connor saw a large letter taped on the door.

"This is here. I hope Pritchard isn't wasting our time."

Hundreds of LEDs flashed green and blue, like Christmas tree lights, all over the rectangular structure made up of disks. Cooling fans hummed loudly and unbearably. Laura first looked at everything carefully but didn't notice anything strange. Only after a while did one of the LEDs turn red.

"Connor, I found it," she called out. "We need to isolate it," he suggested. "That may not be necessary," she replied, pulling the disk from the rail on which it lay. "The cable has come loose, that's probably the cause. We'll check it anyway just to be sure the wire is the only problem here."

While the hacker dealt with the faulty disk, Connor decided to check the rest as well. If any of them are infected the entire sector will have to be cut off. He really wished it wasn't because he had planned to take Laura to lunch at Camarilla but fate had other plans.

"Unfortunately, I have bad news. The situation is more serious." "I beg you, don't tell me we're going to sit here longer than we intended," she said. "The disks are infected. Apparently, someone in the company forgot the security rules or the worms were smarter than our antiviruses. We need to secure the sector." "And check the data piece by piece. Later, isolate the defective fragments, move them to quarantine and see if they can be salvaged. Great!" "We'll do as much as we can. The rest must be handled by Frank."

The hacker prepared a laptop and her phone for special tasks, while RK800 pulled out and booted up his laptop. Later, they divided the work into several stages. They started by scanning everything, piece by piece, with HAL 9000 helping them a lot. Laura was unsure about showing the phone so openly, but in the end, she trusted Connor. Isolating and trying to repair the infected pieces proved to be the most time-consuming. The hacker didn't know how much time had passed since they got here, or even what time it was when they left the office. She could have checked it on her laptop or phone, but that didn't occur to her either. She was hungry and monstrously tired.

"Another hour and we're out of here. We'll have some time left to drink coffee." "Some time? You mean what time is it exactly?" "Half an hour left until 9 pm." "You're kidding! We're sitting here all day?!" she yelled, and her voice echoed. "I'm going to murder Pritchard." "You can start scanning. This will go fast."

An hour later they were back in the corridor with the elevator. Unfortunately, too many people were using it today, so Connor suggested they take the fire escape stairs and try another floor.

Sarif Industries. Labs. 10:35 pm.

Adam was sitting in an armchair and had been having a conversation that he thought was going nowhere for a long time. From time to time he glanced at Megan sitting on the sofa and at how she was nervously playing with a pearl necklace loosely hanging around her neck. The room was full of screens with diagrams and models of prosthetic arms, glowing with a bright blue light.

"Major, I expect the entire area of the Conference Center to be covered by at least two groups of people," the Security Chief insisted. "I've already said we won't enter with the others through the main entrance, because the security will be hindered," his voice was increasingly exasperated. "Yes, that's what I meant. I'm glad you understand. Goodnight," Adam ended the call and tossed the phone back on the desk. "Idiot," he muttered.

He looked again at Dr Reed, who had turned off the news transmitted live from Picus by Eliza Cassan.

"If you keep pulling that necklace, Dr Reed, you'll tear it," he tried to joke.

The effect was different than expected so he stood up and walked over to the woman, who was now standing facing the large screen that had previously displayed the news.

"You'll be fine. After all, this isn't the first time you've had to defend your research," he assured, placing his hands on her shoulders.

The grey material from which the fancy tunic was sewn was slippery and cool to the touch. For a moment he wanted very much to kiss the side of her neck but, apart from the high collar, he was stopped by the thought that, after all, Laura was still present in his life.

"Previously there was only a theory. Now it is different. This new discovery is something big. Kepler big. Rosetta stone big." "Forgive me, but I still don't see where the problem is." "They will want to know the details. To know how I came to it." "So..." "Megan, we're leaving for Washington in two hours," they were interrupted by a video call from Sarif which appeared on a screen. "Good evening, boss." "Adam, you're there too. Good, because I'd like to review the security plans one more time." "Of course, boss."

David nodded. "Megan are you and your team ready yet?"

"Almost. We still have to check the data," she replied, avoiding looking at the screen. "Hurry up. If you want to shine and dumbfound these smart arses, everything has to be perfect." "I hate it when he does that," she sighed when Sarif had already hung up. "Come on, I'll walk you part way."

They both walked out of the office into the corridor and then cut through one of the laboratories where the scientists were collecting and checking all the data. Megan was stopped several times and had to clarify any doubts with team members. On the way, they met General O'Neill, interested in the Typhoon prototype, but Dr Reed avoided the conversation, leaving it to Vasili.

"Adam, you can't be so closed to modern technology. This is our future," she tried to convince him. "Teachers certainly dream of using Typhoon during lessons at school," he replied with sarcasm. "That's not the point. Contracts with the military provide us with the money with which we exist and can expand the company. Neuroimplants are something else, they help people. They improve their reflexes, improve their thinking. David has been talking about this for a long time. He's a good man, and I know you like him." "Mhm, just like everyone else," replied the Security Chief reluctantly.

Megan did not respond. She was interrupted by the elevator doors opening.

"Where are you going?" "To Diane's office. I have to leave her the keys to take care of Kubrick. He's not so little anymore. He knocks over all the flower pots." "He broke a vase yet?"

The woman shook her head negatively. "I moved it and made a fence. The one you were supposed to make yourself."

"I'm sorry it turned out that way," the man admitted regretfully. "Me too...And not only because of that. Adam...I...I have to tell you something..."

The elevator unexpectedly stopped. They heard laughter.

"We made it at the last minute," Connor said. "I told you not to take the damn stairs," growled Laura at him. She already wanted to get into the elevator but saw Adam and stepped back. "We'll wait for the next one." "Nonsense," RK800 replied and pushed her inside.

The hacker felt herself getting hot, Jensen feigned cold indifference, Megan looked depressed, and Connor whistled under his breath.

"This is my floor," muttered Dr Reed. "Faridah is already here. We should hurry up," she added and left.

Laura felt her hand go numb from holding tightly her backpack. Fortunately, they got off at the next floor leaving Adam alone.

Sarif Industries. David Sarif's office. 11:15 pm.

Jensen got off the elevator and, trying not to limp, approached the reception desk behind which Athene was sitting. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long for entering the office. Good thing he just happened to have the documents he needed with him.

"Adam, son!" he was greeted by Sarif's cheerful voice. "How are the moods? Everything ready? Tomorrow's the big day." "Yes, boss. I brought everything regarding security," he informed, handing over a file. "The Capitol Police will secure the whole area, and as soon as we leave VTOL, the Federal Protection Service will take over." "Great, great. And our star?" "She's terribly nervous." "Nonsense. She'll just show them her research, and that's all," Sarif said tossing his favourite baseball. "Did she tell you about them?” "Yes," nodded the Security Chief. "But I don't understand much of it." "Purists accuse us of disrupting the natural order of things," snarled the boss. "Megan merely exploited our DNA. She unleashed the dormant power within it. That's something better than Darrow did."

Sarif Industries. Francis Pritchard's office. 11:50 pm.

"I see you've already returned. Somehow you were in no hurry," Pritchard complained. "Sector G was infected with the virus. We had to isolate particular pieces of data and recover what we could," Connor explained. "Give you a simple task, and you're about to screw something up."

Laura wanted to say something, but RK800 stopped her.

"Probably someone didn't follow the rules. Even if we had a list of authorized people, we won't be able to find out who it was." "Holy shit. Why does everything have to go to hell just today?" growled Frank. "Anyway, we need to check the security systems. I'll raise the alarm right away," he announced and, without waiting for their response, carried out his plan.

Sarif Industries David Sarif's office. The 0 hour.

The screen in Sarif's office, which had previously displayed a broadcast of a baseball game, now showed a map of the laboratories highlighted in red. An alarm vibrating in their ears sounded, and a robotic, female voice repeated in a loop: Environmental malfunction, laboratory sub-section six. All lab chiefs, please report in.

Knowledge is a deadly friend If no one sets the rules The fate of all mankind I see Is in the hands of fools

All  chapters can be found: [AO3], [dA], [Wattpad] and [Tumblr]

[falling-pages]

Bend the Knee: Kyoya x Reader

Thanks @ouranbound for the idea <3

-

“I fear I’ve been so busy planning our future that I did not give time to notice how they were exploiting your present."

-

Sometimes Kyoya's betrothed needs help adjusting from their commoner life to one of splendor.

-

Kyoya Ootori x gn! Reader

Genre: Fluff, established relationship, arranged marriage, Commoner! Reader

Warnings: None

-

“Quit.”

“What?”

“Quit. You complain about that job every night, so just resign.”

You sit up on the couch, gasping to even begin to make the young heir understand how preposterous his words were. He barely even noticed, just kept his eyes glued to his novel as you were having a crisis. Just another normal Tuesday in this household. “I can’t quit just like that, without two weeks’ notice.”

“The other employees did.”

“But I’m their best,” you scramble, “I can’t bail while they’re still looking for two more people.”

Kyoya scoffed, licking his fingertip and turning a page. “Is that how they treat their best? Overworked and underpaid? They don’t sound like very good bosses to me.”

“It’s not that, it’s…”

It was that. It was exactly that, which made his smug smile all the more frustrating, igniting that fire under your nails to just punch his lights out. But then you’d have to admit it’s bothering you, and he would win, and even though you were engaged to marry this man, you just couldn’t have that.

You ran your hands through your hair, dropping back down onto the couch. His office futon wasn’t comfortable in the slightest, perhaps to discourage relaxation during work hours, but it’s what you dealt with in order to spend time with him in the evenings, a change you would certainly implement once your name was on the deed and in the will--a revamp of his working space was imperative.

But you supposed you couldn’t complain. It was your little life together, where he manages a multi-billion dollar empire and you whine about your job, where he pretends to not pay attention while you spill your guts. What was the sense in commenting when he knew you wouldn’t take his advice?

“I’ve worked hard for this position,” you settle on, closing your eyes and letting your brain do the work. “I’ve climbed the ladder and gotten promotions and I used to feel so important, and it isn’t my dream job, sure, but I’ve enjoyed the process.”

“Then it’s time to move on to something different,” he suggests, and his tone is softer than usual, though still careful to sound detached. “You know I have more than enough money to provide for you and our family someday. Is that not enough?”

You open your eyes when the voice sounds closer, right above you, and you see him kneeling down beside you on the couch. You start to sit up, but he pushes you back down, helping you stretch out your spine, shake out the stresses in your limbs. And when he takes your hand, drawing his long fingers over the arch of your wrist and against your palm, you were startled to see him at eye-level.

Kyoya Ootori bent his knee to no one except you, and only once, when he slipped that pretty gold ring on your finger. But here where you lay, your faces were on the same level, and you felt like an equal.

“The world I come from isn’t black and white, Kyoya,” you say, as he strokes the back of your knuckles. Such tenderness was seldom seen from him, but you revel in it, grasp onto it with dirty fists and brazen recklessness. To have him so attentive to your needs and listening to you was rare. It was a privilege, a standard you would soon be held to, as well. “To be just...launched into fame because my dad won the lottery is hard, I still need to adjust. It can all be gone in a second, so I can’t just drop something. I can’t...sever the safety net. They need me to keep the place afloat, and even as tough as it has been, I can’t leave on such bad terms. They need me. Just for a little bit longer.”

He sighs your name like the afterthought of a prayer, settling his other hand beside you on the couch. His fingers dig into every indentation, as if joining your discovery of its stiff cushions. The sheen in his glasses signaled he’d look into it, but there were more pressing matters to attend to at the moment.

He remained silent, odd for a man with all the answers, but he continued to look at you, not like he was trying to drill a hole through your head, but like you were a puzzle he was just beginning to figure out.

“Have I really been so absent, my love?” he whispered, raising his hand to your face. One finger stroked along your cheek, slowly, lulling you into peace. “I fear I’ve been so busy planning our future that I did not give time to notice how they were exploiting your present. Please, forgive me.”

All of the air was knocked out of your chest as his gentle words, so soft that you almost didn’t recognize him. When your parents betrothed you, and when you fell in love with him, agreed to marry him, even, you knew that he would always be an Ootori, with every string attached. You were ready for the challenge, ready to be with this man no matter what--but his sudden kindness was unexpected, the poetic words unfamiliar in your ears.

“Kyo, you think I wouldn’t forgive you?” you ask, taking off his glasses.

He let you, and when you set them on the nearby stand, his dark eyes glittered with something you had never seen before. Deeper than love, deeper than compassion, a feral protectiveness mixed with sadness skating across his face. It was so rare you saw him without this shield of his, you had almost forgotten how his eyes were like galaxies, like the murky night sky, expansive, swallowing everything in its path.

“If I had been suffering so, I wouldn’t forgive my partner had they not noticed,” he said.

“I’m not suffering...”

“Mmm-mm.” He shuttered your lips closed with his finger, and you couldn’t help but return the affection and press a kiss to it. He smiled, softly, and you thought about how long it had been since you had seen that smile, and how long it had been since he’s seen yours, too.

“I know I’m not the best at expressing my feelings,” he said, and when you snorted, he rolled his eyes and leaned away. “See, this is exactly why.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek, giggling. The feeling was foreign in the pit of your chest, drumming near your spine. “I’m sorry. Please, continue.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat, softly wiping where you had kissed him, a repetitive, soothing motion. “I’m not the best at expressing my feelings. I’ve been raised to think that if you throw money at something, it will go away. It’s a powerful position to hold, knowing you can change everyone’s fates on a whim, but…” he swallowed, breaking eye contact, and you felt his energy shift into something vulnerable. “But you changed that. You make me feel...you make me feel. And at first I didn’t like it. I loved you, but I didn’t like what you did to me. I didn’t like how you made my world shift off-balance, until I realized my world was no longer my family’s company or stocks or what other stiffs thought of me. It was you.”

You tried to lean up and kiss him, but he grabbed your hands and held them in his own. “Please, let me finish, I want...I want you to know. We’ve been betrothed for so long, but I’d like to think we were only truly engaged when I bowed to you with that ring.”

“Okay,” you breathed, shallowly, taking it in, squeezing his hands to help him along.

“Because that took everything in me,” he continued, and his voice shook, his hands shook, and all you wanted was to gather him in your arms and hold him till he relaxed. “I was raised as a superior, but I’m not. Not with you. You are my equal, and I love you, and there’s no future with us if I can’t look beyond my own problems to see yours.”

Your stomach quelled in light of his confession. The life of luxury and fame you had so recently come to know was a blur compared to his childhood swathed in privilege. Only six years ago you were waiting tables to save up for college when your dad bought a lottery ticket for the hell of it. Now you were attending charity balls and engaged to the son of the richest man on earth.

He took a shaky breath and kissed your forehead, seeming to only find the courage once his lips met your skin.

“I notice. I swear I do,” he said. “I tried to act disinterested when you vent to me because it was a protection, it was a way to stay cold, because that was all I ever saw from my mother and father. They were separate people who happened to live in the same house. That’s not us. I’m not my father. I swear I notice. I notice your tired eyes and your tense shoulders and your fake smile and I want to fix it, but I don’t know how, so I clam up. I shut down. And I’m sorry. I truly am, my darling. I don’t know how you put up with me.”

It was an absolute miracle that you could even breathe at the end of his speech, panting almost as heavily as he was. And when you leaned forward to kiss him, this time he didn’t object, but pulled you even closer, shrouding your body with his, his sharp scent overwhelming your senses, clouding the air around you, even when there was no distance between you. His mouth was hot with passion, yet reserved, and though it wasn’t the first time you kissed, it was the first time you thought he meant it when he told you he loved you.

“Kyoya, I love you,” you whisper against his lips. “I have for so long. I wouldn’t have stayed with you if I didn’t, no matter what our parents said.” He laughed, nipping your bottom lip lightly. “And I don’t want you to change for me. You’re under so much pressure, I understand why you act like you do. But our home isn’t Wall Street. My heart isn’t some business bargaining chip. You don’t need to fight your nature to love me. It’s one and the same.” One of his tears splashes down onto your face. “So just see me. Love me. Choose to be vulnerable. I promise it won’t scare me off.”

“I will. I promise.”

He kissed you again, burning his brand against your tongue, hard like a handshake to know he meant it. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, like you were breathing the same air, using the same lungs, the same heart beating in tandem.

When you let go, his forehead remained pressed against yours. His eyes were slightly open, watching you, eyelashes fluttering against your skin. He was so soft, like this. You wanted to hold him forever.

“Come to bed with me,” you whisper, trailing a hand through his hair. “I just want to spend time with you.”

He kissed your forehead, rubbing his nose against yours in compliance. “I’ll spend all the time in the world with you, beloved,” he sighed, capturing your lips once more. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

-

Kofi

[harbingerofwhump]

hey! do you have any autistic! kaz headcanons?

Hello!

Oooooo hello autistic Kaz my beloved. I will Attempt (going behind a cut because this got long) :

he of course wears his gloves because of his touch aversion, but also for other sensory reasons (leather is a Safe Material, and gloves provide a barrier so he’s less likely to have direct contact with Bad Textures/Sensations)

This child climbed all. The. Time. He likes being high up and it’s not just for the extra privacy. Da and Jordie used to joke that when Kaz was older, he could take over all the roofing work, he was known to hide up in the hayloft of the barn and even tried to convince Da to let him sleep there at night instead of in the house, and there was not a single tree in all of Not-Lij that he hadn’t climbed (and hanged upside-down from a branch) at least once before he and Jordie left.  If not for his leg, he would be silently begging Inej to teach him to walk the highwire and do trapeze post-CK. And once he gets his act together and fixes his and Jesper’s relationship and they just hang out together at the mansion, Jesper takes to sitting on the floor a lot because ADHD while Kaz frequently lays on the countertops, desk, tables, etc... The other crows are confused by this and at first keep trying to offer them both a seat (“nobody’s using the settee, you know” and “the chairs won’t break if you use them”) but quickly come to understand that they are both much more content like this, thank you very much, and it becomes a perfectly normal part of their time together

I adopted @randomcat1832 's headcanons that he uses smaller magic tricks as a subtle stim, and that birds are a special interest (this one is essentially canon though, isn’t it? 😂)

He ALWAYS has several jobs of varying complexity up his sleeve and ready to be pulled off at the drop of a hat. He tells nobody about these until he decides to actually do them. This is so that when he has a shutdown or meltdown, he can mostly hide away in his rooms for days if needed to regulate, and make everyone think he’s just been busy figuring out a job

He’s studied facial expressions and body language almost obsessively for as long as he can remember, trying to learn how to Be Like Other People, and used everything he could find to practice it himself (puddles, windows, mirrors, he even tried to use his shadow for body language when nothing else was around). He actually got very good at this and it’s helped him a lot with things like monitoring the gambling halls, predicting when something’s about to Go Down, and running cons, deciding on a mark, etc.  That mirror he bought with his first payment in the Dregs was used for learning magic tricks but he also used it to continue practicing his expressions and body language

He always has a reason. By which I mean even as a child he adamantly refused to do something if he didn’t know (what he considered to be) a valid reason for doing it. It drove people crazy sometimes but Da also loved how inquisitive he could be sometimes because of it, and constantly encouraged his curiosity and need to know how things work and why things are the way they are.

He was extremely punctual as a child. Da told him to be in bed at 8 bells, or be in the carriage to go to Lij at 6? He was there when that bell chimes and not a second before (but he definitely spent at least 10-15 minutes just hanging out nearby, fully ready and doing nothing else, just to make sure he wasn’t late). He’s still very punctual when he’s older but he absolutely shows up to things early for safety, preparedness, and/or control/power-play reasons. But if none of those apply, he sticks to timelines/schedules perfectly. (This annoys/annoyed Per Haskell to no end and Kaz takes some satisfaction in that. Like "boy I know you've been back for an hour why didn't you just report back to me sooner", Kaz, internally grinning because he is a cheeky bastard (affectionate) "You told me to report back at x time :) " )

While he’s great at adapting to changes in his schemes as he’s pulling them off, a lot of it is because he’s thought out so many ways things could go down and has prepared himself for all these outcomes way ahead of time. Unexpected/unanticipated changes throw him off and exhaust him so much more, even if he is able to get it together enough to make it work out (this is basically canon too, right??)

Sometimes he misses how much less noise/activity there was back in Not-Lij. The Barrel is chaotic and loud and there's constant stimuli that's harder to get a break from than on the farm. He also secretly misses the more structured routine of taking care of the animals and helping with the crops when he was younger, even though he’s very attached to the Barrel and the life he has there now

Speaking of being attached… He doesn’t let himself get attached much but when it does happen, those attachments are very, very strong — whether it’s with objects/belongings, animals, or relationships. He still has his first set of lockpicks even though half of them are broken now. He claims to be annoyed by the crows Inej feeds outside his window but he would actually be completely devastated if they stopped showing up, and it’s not just because he knows Inej likes them. He shut down and wouldn’t talk to anyone for days after he lost a little stuffed toy his Da had saved up to buy for him (he also never, ever let that toy spend the night not in his bed, and cried if he woke up to find it had fallen on the floor overnight). And we’ve all seen how much he secretly loves the other Crows, yeah? He's also just generally very particular about his space and belongings, specifically in terms of other people messing with it/them (also canon?)

Unusual perceptions of, and responses to, pain? Maybe? I dunno I just see him more as the kind of person who ends up going deathly silent when he’s in pain, and it takes more than ‘average’ to get an obvious reaction (or on the other end of it, things that wouldn’t be considered painful or induce much of reaction for others are agonizing to him) and I’ve been told this is apparently an autistic trait so. On the list it goes 😂

There’s canon evidence that he was probably at least somewhat religious (or was raised to be) as a kid (ie: the line that’s something like “he thought this must be heaven”), but I headcanon that while he may have believed in the values of whatever religion (assuming related to Ghezen because Kerch?) he’s never fully believed in any god(s) or afterlife because it’s such an intangible concept and he’s never seen what he considers to be sufficient evidence of the existence of either  (have also been told this is a somewhat common autistic experience so it can be on here too)

Reluctant to call this a headcanon because I haven’t thought it through like. At all. But there might be something there with the concept of ‘autistic sense of justice’ and that playing into Kaz coming to terms with all the things he does in the Barrel in order to avenge Jordie…? Maybe? Idk

I know I have more — and some that are more blatant in their autism flavor — but much like when someone asks “so what music do you listen to?”, I have forgotten every thought and bit of knowledge on the topic that I have ever possessed 😂

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

i get dirty thoughts about you, they get worse when i’m without you

summary: best friend’s father series: steve tries to be good, but everyone knows he’s a dark hoe w cancer feelings

warnings: smut, a little bit of bondage, dom steve, oral (m receiving, f receiving). cheating (obvi, he’s married). mentions of spanking. a lot of somnophilia.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: around 6,920

N/A: reader is not underage! I made it sound like it at a certain point, but I meant to be exaggerative and like obvi it made people a little concerned. Understandably.

Sarah Rogers transferred to your school during senior year, the worst possible time to transfer. Mostly, everyone was already squared away. They knew which college they would go to, they knew which of their friends they were going to try to keep despite the distance, some were struggling with the romantic relationships, and some were fully throwing themselves into the activity they knew was going to get them their scholarship. Regardless of what it was, it meant that no one had time to welcome a new friend into their lives.

You had three classes with her—Geometry, American Government, and AP Literature. She was moody but quiet, until provoked. She was furious about her situation, but still excelled in all her classes, which was what caught your attention in the first place. You had your singular strength—writing, and you noticed your teacher buzzing about someone who wasn’t you.

Two weeks after she first arrived, you became friends. It took only one more week before you two were nearly inseparable. It started when you arrived at school until you were forced to part for classes and lasted until you were both obligated to be home. Then it was nonstop texting, talking about everyone you both disliked at school, and shit about parents. It was a pure form of comfort and friendship that you had never experienced.

It soon escalated to nightly sleepovers. Mostly, you stayed at Sarah’s because her parents were drastically more involved than yours. Sharon Carter-Rogers was nice enough—and by “enough”, you meant that she could pretend in front of people but she was just another mother giving her daughter several complexes about eating and her body image, pressuring her to be the best at everything, yet wanted her to attend the state college because she didn’t want her to get too far and live a life of her own.

You knew she couldn’t stand you. She didn’t think you were on her daughter’s level of intelligence or drive. Not that Sarah ever told you that, you could just tell. And to distance you from her daughter, Sharon eventually got her a tutor—claiming she just needed to make sure that Sarah stayed focused. However, that ended up ultimately getting her nowhere because Sarah was just as rebellious as the man who raised her.

Steve Rogers was a good father —and the hottest man you had ever laid eyes on. He smiled at his daughter sincerely, he loved to hear her talk about her day, and he dropped whatever he was doing when she needed something. It was a mystery how a kind man like him ended up with someone like Sharon. But you noticed during those family dinners you were always around for, the conversation majorly occurred between the three of you, Sharon consistently either silent and in her own world or distracted by her phone.

The day that you were complaining about Sarah getting a tutor, pouting because you would have to go home for at least two hours after school before you could find your way to her house yet again, Steve was strolling through the long hallway to his office. He peeked his head into his daughter’s room and informed you that he didn’t mind you hanging out while you were waiting for Sarah, and she agreed.

It was an offer you didn’t take seriously until the third day. Truly, you disliked your parents and couldn’t stand the idea of seeing them for even just two hours. When Sharon answered the door that day, her expression twisted into a cool scowl, and you figured she had been informed of the offer but that she had herself convinced you wouldn’t be interested. She shuffled away, muttering about how busy she was as you closed the door behind yourself.

It soon became a nice routine, and because Sharon was so distracted by her dislike of you, she didn’t even notice that her daughter was coming home an hour later than she was supposed to be.

You could say it started in early October. You were in Sarah’s room laid out on her bed, facing the door as you skimmed the pages of your favorite book. Arguably, you could have been wearing more clothing, much more than just a tiny crop top and pair of underwear that hardly even covered anything. But also, in your defense, you were on your stomach, your calves loosely folded over your ass, so maybe not much could be seen.

Steve knocked on the slightly open door before coming in, sending you a warm smile as he made his way to his daughter’s closet. Sarah borrowed his clothes a lot, so he came in every other week just to get it all back.

“Hey, Mr. Rogers.” Your lack of concern was indicative of what kind of man he was. You didn’t feel undressed or exposed. You didn’t think maybe your body was something you should hide.

He gave you a look. “Steve, Y/N.”

You smirked as you watched him flip through the hanging garments. “How was work?”

“Same old. How was school?”

“Even more boring than same old.”

He hummed.

“Mr. Rogers, can I ask you a huge favor?”

He looked at you, surprised. “Of course.”

“Can I borrow one of your button-ups? I want to wear it to school tomorrow.”

“Sure, but why not ask your father?”

You snorted. “My dad doesn’t exactly look like you.”

He scoffed. “Right. You don’t think it’ll be too big?”

“I’ll manage.”

He nodded. “Okay, I’ll leave a couple in here for you then.”

“Thanks.”

“Any time,” he easily promised. He was a reliable man, that much you had come to learn. A rarity in your reality of barely speaking parents. “Now can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

He stepped out of Sarah’s closet and neared the chair at her desk. He sat down, turning in your direction, leaning over to set his elbows to his knees. He himself was wearing one of those button-ups and seeing his arms move in those tight sleeves… “Is there a reason my daughter has been coming home an hour late every day?”

You smiled, rolling your eyes. “You can’t expect me to tell on my best friend.”

He smiled back. “Worth a shot.”

“What if the answer was yes?”

He shrugged. “I’m just curious. She turns 18 in less than a month, it’s not like I can tell her what to do. I would just like to know that my daughter isn’t in trouble.”

You snorted. “Yeah, I wouldn’t worry about that. The tutor that your wife hired? He’s lived in my neighborhood since he was 6 and though very cute, he’s such a nerd.”

He scoffed. “Good guy?”

“One of the only I’ve ever met,” you assured. “Otherwise, I would have already vandalized his car and made threats to keep him away.”

He smiled. “Glad to hear it.” He finally leaned back in the chair, extending his legs to cross his ankles. “What are you reading?”

“Wuthering Heights.”

He shuddered. “Hated that book.”

Your eyes widened. “Hated?!”

“Two terrible people making everyone else around them miserable.”

“Deservedly so.”

He smirked. “Oh, you think?”

“Society is the reason they couldn’t be together, so society shall suffer.”

He laughed.

“Maybe it just hits a little too close to home for you.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

You shrugged. “You’re just so… And like, she… isn’t.”

“Yeah… High school sweethearts, then Sarah came along. It was the right thing to do.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” he pressed. Your tone had been noncommittal at best.

“Not really, but times used to be different. Today, we have all this knowledge about forcing family and the effects it could have on children. Back all the way in your day, it was the norm.”

“Oh, all the way in my day?”

“Yeah, aren’t you like 60?” you teased.

He scoffed. “Do I look 60?”

You bit your lip a little, contemplating how much you could get away with. Thankfully, before you pressed too far, Sharon barged in. Now, you officially felt exposed. The look she gave you, the wide-eyed, locked jaw once over was enough to make you want to grab the blanket hanging over the edge of the mattress to your side.

The following morning, the already-questionable dynamic you had with Mr. Rogers took a turn. And “already-questionable” was not meant to imply he had ever made you uncomfortable, you never even gave the interactions a second thought. But you knew they weren’t typical.

At first, you knew he was trying to get a read on you, to make sure you weren’t going to be a risk to his daughter in any way. Once he discovered that you both were very similar, well-behaved with the same kind of values, he was a lot more comfortable talking to you and getting to know you personally. Intimately, more accurately.

You had had this idea for a while, but you never thought he would be so…obvious. The button-up shirt you asked to borrow was always going to be worn as a dress with some cute heels. Probably not entirely school-appropriate, but you didn’t care after you saw him looking at you.

The Rogers effortlessly moved around one another in the morning. While she was getting her breakfast and they were getting their coffee, it was a showing of how much time they spent with one another.

That morning, you were seated at the table. You had made your way down with Sarah and Sharon instantly started in about the most recent essay that Sarah turned in. Apparently, an 89 wasn’t up to the Rogers’ standard.

Steve joined them eventually, assuring his daughter that her grade was amazing. Sharon stopped first, but Steve was close behind. She just happened to stop directly in his path and since he had been looking at you—she was as well, the entire reason she froze in the first place—he wasn’t able to adjust before he poured his coffee out on Sharon’s shirt. Chaos ensued, not that that surprised anyone. She was furious.

She ran out of the kitchen, complaining about how her entire morning was thrown off now because she would be late. Sarah realized she left her bag upstairs and disappeared to go get it. That left the two of you alone.

“You look…” he started, halting because he was worried about crossing any boundaries.

You smiled. “Like it?”

“Yeah, you look…”

You scoffed.

“Sorry, I just, uh…” he shook his head. “It looks nice on you.”

It was such a small thing, but it still gave you butterflies. “Thank you.”

It was like he caught himself, realization bloomed across his expression. He cleared his throat and went to clean the coffee that got on the counter. “Trying to get someone’s attention?”

“Maybe.”

He hummed. “Well, you don’t need to try where teenage boys are concerned.”

“I never said they went to school with me. And I surely never said it was a teenage boy.”

Again, he wasn’t sure what to say. And thankfully, Sarah came rushing down before he had to figure it out. Clearing his throat, he moved away from you.

“Let’s go before my mom gets back out here and yells at me.” Sarah made her way to Steve and kissed his cheek. “Bye, Dad!” Then she was dashing for the door.

You understood because you’d seen Sharon pick her apart over nothing before. You gathered your belongings and made your way after Sarah, sending Steve one last look.

If he was trying to be subtle, he was going to need a lot of help. He stayed by the counter, looking at you over the top of his new mug of coffee. As if that was going to hide him, as if you couldn’t see his piercing eyes following every move you made. But whatever, nothing more could be done in the immediate moment.

You realized quickly after that one moment that you had an addiction to Steve looking at you. You liked being the focus of his attention, and you soon discovered that it wasn’t hard to achieve.

But beyond looking, there was much left to desire. You would go days and days without any special interaction. There were those times you thought you saw him watching you, but you were never able to catch him. And just when you had nearly convinced yourself that you were delusional and he was never once flirting, he would give in.

Then there were times he held your hand under the table. The times he would walk by Sarah’s room, shirtless after getting out of the shower. The times his wife would leave before Sarah had returned home and you would hear him watching adult films in his bedroom, the door being left open more and more each time.

You immediately wanted to push the boundaries of whatever this was. While Sarah was out with her tutor, you continued going to her house. Sometimes, those were when you had your best conversations with Steve, but it seemed like you were reaching a standstill. You wanted more, you wanted something beyond just talking.

That was when you started “napping”—most of the time, acting like you were asleep while wearing practically nothing. Minus those days you really did accidentally fall asleep, but you weren’t too stressed about losing the time. It seemed you had much to waste since he wasn’t being impatient or anything. Regardless, being unconscious, or pretending to be, was the perfect alibi to have yourself sprawled out all over the bed in the most interesting positions. You heard him walk by those first few days, rather quickly, and that was that. You thought maybe your plan just wasn’t good.

But soon, you heard him start to linger. Once more, you knew that he was watching you. And again, you almost instantly wanted more. You let him get comfortable for the first few days. Mostly, you were waiting for a sign, the perfect opportunity. It came to you one day that Sarah gave you her house key because neither parent would be home after school. After a little questioning, you discovered that Steve was supposed to be home about half an hour after you showed up. He had a business meeting, and you knew, he would be wound up and eager for a distraction.

You played music, another perfectly innocent excuse. Why hadn’t you heard his car? Or the door? Why hadn’t you heard him walk by? Music. You left the door open just a little more than usual and prepped the bed.

Steve was a complex man. He liked seeing you, he liked those glimpses of your body he was able to catch, but he was also a modest man. You wanted to tease above all else because you knew that would get you the best results.

So, with no bra and just a pair of black lace panties, you got into the bed and rolled over onto your stomach. You waited to play the music until you were sure that he was in the house. After that, it was all a deaf game. You spread your legs enough, let your hand wander to your pussy, and pretended this method of getting off was a lot more effective than it was.

Your fingers were buried in your cunt until you made yourself come. You weren’t too dramatic with noises, but you let your hips roll and buck back, knowing that he would enjoy seeing your ass from this angle. You’d caught him staring at that specific part of you on more than one occasion.

Slowly, you rolled onto your back. To keep him watching and comfortable, you kept your eyes shut. You curled your fingers several more times before pulling them out and reaching up to grab your bare breast. Your second hand soon joined, and you squeezed and moaned, pulled on your nipples and whimpered. You crossed your legs and arched your back, once more claiming much more pleasure than you honestly felt. The only thing that could satisfy you was if he was touching you instead, but you knew the better the performance, the sooner he would respond.

Everything was going perfectly, but as per usual, Sharon had to show up and change that. “Steve, are you home!?” And then the front door slammed so loud that even with the music, you couldn’t pretend you didn’t hear. You heard him moving fast and waited until you could react just quick enough that it seemed natural, but with enough time to let him escape, to let him think you had no idea he was there.

The next few days were innocent in comparison. It was an easy lie to sell, he probably thought you were only wearing actual clothing and sleeping because Sharon’s unexpected presence caught you off guard. In reality, you just wanted to see how long he could last. He was watching still, every day, and you told yourself you wouldn’t make another move until he gave you something, anything.

Then one day, you heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper. You knew what that meant, but you just laid there and let him touch himself. You heard his labored breathing, you heard him whispering curses, and you simply stayed so still you knew he never doubted that you were unconscious.

This went on for weeks. Every weekday for at least two months. Then, he started getting closer, and you started surprising him by not wearing a bra but wearing a white shirt or wearing shorts but no underwear. Any way that you could slightly tease him, you would, knowing he would like the idea of seeing something no one else got to.

The first day he touched you, you couldn’t have been more pleased with yourself. You decided on just a big T-shirt. You laid on your side, curled your legs up and pushed your hips back as far as you could without looking too posed. You knew he had a perfect view of your ass and a somewhat less obstructed view than he’d ever had of your pussy.

You heard him come in, but he’d been doing that for a while, so you didn’t think anything of it. When his fingertips brushed against your thigh, you almost ruined everything. Instinctively, you wanted to make sure that it was him and not something like a spider or whatever else you could think up, but you forced yourself to stay completely still. For several minutes, he didn’t do anything more. He was testing the waters and you prepared yourself for more.

His hand started at your thigh again and slid up until it was over the curve of your ass. His palm moved confidently now, down until he was on the opposite side of your ass and his fingertips has just barely brushed over your pussy. You could only imagine how wet you were.

Again, he pulled his hand away, but you didn’t hear him touching himself yet. After a few silent moments, you rolled onto your back and let one arm sweep the hem of the shirt up. That day, he jerked off to the sight of your exposed pussy.

The next time he touched you, he must have had a hard day at work. He was rougher than usual, just a little more confident in the way he let his hands move on your body. You had decided on a bralette and a pair of loose shorts. He moved them aside a little so he could see your pussy again and he let his fingers feel along your slit. His free hand wrapped around his cock only after he got you embarrassingly wet. You could feel yourself dripping but you also felt it on his fingers as he dragged them along your cunt.

The time after that was the first time that he got on the bed with you. You were laying on your back, your t-shirt had been rolled up to your waist by him. He spread your thighs and pressed hard with his fingers. Still, you kept up your perfect act and let him explore your body without a care in the world. You only worried you may lose this game when you felt his breath on your stomach. The springs on the mattress followed him as he leaned over but he must have thought better of it because he didn’t put his mouth on you.

Not until the next time. You decided on no bra and when he kissed your breasts, your hands ached to touch him. You wanted to put your hand on the back of his head and keep him there forever. He was getting so bold because the last thing he did just after he finished that day was bite your nipple, it was soft but still got you to whimper.

By now it was guaranteed that he was going to come in and touch you. It wasn’t a guessing game anymore; you just always knew. Your new routine was just a pair of shorts and sometimes a loose bra top. You liked feeling him move your clothing out of the way, but you didn’t want to make it too difficult otherwise he would get nervous and not have as much fun with you.

He began kissing your pussy every day. Just once. He would spread your thighs and lay a chaste kiss there before he either let his fingers feel you there or moved his mouth to your chest. This was also around the time he felt confident enough to sometimes turn you onto your stomach. He liked kissing your hips, the curve of your ass, your lower back, sometimes halfway up your spine.

Then, one day, you messed it all up.

He had you rolled over, his fingers teasing the entrance of your pussy, almost dipping in but not quite. He moved them up to your asshole and you were sure he wasn’t going to. That would be too much, right? How would he not expect you to wake up? But apparently, he did expect that, because just as soon as his finger pressed down, you gasped. Without hesitation, he pulled away and it was dead silent.

You weren’t sure when he slipped out because he didn’t say or do anything noticeable to you. You didn’t dare move until the front door opened to let you know that Sarah was home. Finally, you could drop your sleeping act with the amount of noise she made entering the house.

Everything stopped.

You still proceeded to come over and pretend to sleep, but you knew he wasn’t coming around. You didn’t hear any clothing, any breathing—the obvious signs. You didn’t hear the floor creak or the door whine to signal that he was moving by or moving in.

He was also not eating dinner with the rest of the family, claiming that he had so much work. You were pouting and a little more silent than usual, so dinners often ended in a screaming match between Sarah and Sharon since there was no other distraction for either one.

You were off in your own little world every night, wondering how you were going to get this dynamic back. It wasn’t fair that he just dropped you after getting you so reliant on these events. It was what you looked forward to the second it stopped, the second he left. It was what made your whole day worth it. You felt like all the shit you had to put up with wasn’t as bad because you would get to see him, feel him.

But without him, you felt like you were going through withdrawals. You were irritable at best, but sometimes just downright mean. You felt rejected so your emotions were all over the place—crying in gym class because you couldn’t find one of the million sports bras you had shoved in your locker. Sarah tried to be understanding but it wasn’t as if you were telling her anything. She was convinced you were having a mental episode and looked up several mental disorders she thought explained your behaviors.

He wouldn’t look at you, he didn’t talk to you. When he went in to steal his clothing from Sarah, he would wait until you just weren’t there. You figured he did it while the two of you were at school. When he wanted to speak to Sarah and ask about her day, he swooped in and got to her before she even got inside from her tutoring sessions.

He was sneaky, and you were outraged. The day that you decided to confront him was only because Sarah had let you know that she was going to be late. It was a surprise date, and she didn’t care to worry about the consequences. She didn’t care that her parents were going to be furious with her. It was Valentine’s Day, and her boyfriend had a surprise.

Sharon was going to be at the office longer than expected, something Sarah mentioned because now she was only worried about her father. So, in a way couldn’t you simply say what was going to happen was you just helping your friend?

Steve was in his office still by the time you had stopped shaking and were mostly sure that you weren’t going to be physically sick. He glanced at you, greeted you, and went back to staring at the laptop in front of him. You could tell he wasn’t doing anything, not that you would care if he was. This was about you and the way he had made you feel these past few weeks.

“Can we talk?”

“I’m really busy.”

He never would have said that to you before. Steve, though a father, was totally a mom in energy! The second someone had an issue, he wanted to hear about it and make sure that everything was okay. “Well, this is really important.”

He sighed. “Y/N, I have a deadline.”

You weren’t even sure what he did, so that might have been true. But again, you did not care. You made your way to him, and he tried to start typing on his laptop. He tried to make himself look busy because he thought that would help him. But you genuinely no longer gave a fuck about his feelings because what the fuck!? Why did he not care?

You leaned over, shoving his laptop back a little. He glared up at you and once more, you explained, “This is really important.”

He scoffed. “I’m sure that’s highly unlikely—”

“Why don’t you come into your daughter’s room anymore and touch me?” you demanded. “Did you only like it when you thought I was unconscious? You prefer your women not able to give consent?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking—”

“Yes, you do! You know I know! You used to come in almost every day, I would pretend to be asleep. I felt everything, Steve.”

Abruptly, he stood up and you scattered back because it wasn’t what you had been expecting. He didn’t stop moving until you were against the wall, and his hand came up to grab your face. He held your jaw as he towered over you, staring down at you with a furrowed brow and a deep frown. You’d never seen him disappointed before but now you understood why Sarah hated making it happen so much.

“You were pretending to be asleep?”

“Why does that change anything?” you snapped. Had you read this whole thing wrong? Was he just some creep who didn’t care for women’s free will? Was it more the thrill of the setting and the situation than the thrill of you?

“This is wrong, you know that.”

“The only thing wrong is that you don’t seem to care for consent!”

“Enough,” he sighed. “I care, I just…didn’t know how to ask you, I couldn’t have asked you. Are you out of your mind? I’m married, my daughter is your age—”

“But that didn’t seem to matter to you all those times you went into Sarah’s room.”

“Of course, it mattered! But I didn’t know that you knew.”

“Knew what? That you’re a creep—”

“That I want you!” he growled.

You angrily shoved at his arm, and he finally let go. “I want you too, idiot!”

“But we can’t do anything about it, Y/N. There are a million reasons why this can’t happen.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, I don’t care about any of them.”

“That’s a problem,” he stated calmly.

It was clear that words weren’t going to get him to budge, no amount of talking or appealing verbally was going to get you anywhere. The only thing you did know for sure was that Steve had a weakness, and that was your body.

You acted quickly, worried that he would guess what you were doing and stop you. You yanked your shirt over your head, and he moved back, allowing you enough space to shove your skirt down. You stood before him in only your underwear and bra.

For all that fight he put up, he couldn’t help but stare at you. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t missed seeing you naked and vulnerable. He loved your skin, all the marks and blemishes he could find, how you felt under his hands, how you tasted.

“Fuck me.”

“Stop,” he pleaded.

You walked around him to his desk, pulling yourself onto the edge where his chair was. You wouldn’t say another word, but you weren’t going to back down. You just sat there and waited, glaring at the wall instead of looking at him.

Finally, he was moving. You were almost sure that he was just going to leave, but he locked the door instead. You watched him then, curious where he would go. You just wanted him close to you.

He sat back down in his chair, leaning forward until his arms were on the sides of your hips. His gaze trailed over your cunt for a moment before he looked up at you, almost like he needed your permission.

You pulled your underwear down, rotating on your hips when you needed to pull the lace out from underneath you. You tossed the scrap of material onto his lap. “Please,” you sighed. “Steve, please. We both want this—”

His arms slid around your ass, grabbing you hard as he pulled your center toward his mouth and ducked down. He claimed you instantly, no teasing, no soft touches. This wasn’t a game; this was him taking what he needed.

You laid back immediately, worried you would fall if you didn’t. It was uncomfortable how his knuckles and watch dug into your skin, but you didn’t care at all at that moment. You just let yourself enjoy this, making all the noise you wanted. You longed for it before, being able to scream, cry out, voice your pleasure, and encourage more of all the things he did that drove you crazy.

His lips pulled at your clit harshly, as if this was how he was taking out all his anger on you. He hadn’t realized what he was missing all those other times, when you couldn’t make a sound. He liked hearing you like this, begging, whimpering, whining. You praised him like he was a god and what was bitter resignation soon became unhinged need.

He made you come because he’d been wanting to taste you for so long, but that was the kindest he was going to be to you. You were the one that asked for this, for him. It wasn’t just that he was your best friend’s married father that made this wrong. It was him, there was something about him and his sexual interests that he didn’t want to force you into. But maybe this was the best way to teach you not to ask for things you didn’t understand.

There was a reason he and Sharon had long ago stopped working out. After Sarah, she wasn’t overly interested in keeping him satisfied in any part of their relationship—he’d been suspicious of an affair for years but never cared to find out the truth. As for him, he’d met a few women on his nights out with the guys, but it was purely one-night stands, he gave a fake name, and left without giving any way to contact him.

When he stood up, he hurriedly pulled at his tie. “Hands.”

You offered them out to him, holding your wrists together, and didn’t protest at all when he started to wrap them up in the tie. You’d never been tied up before, but were you ever going to say no to Steve?

“Keep them over your head.”

Again, you did as he told you to. He started with his shirt, then his pants, and you watched the entire time. You took in all the hard lines and muscle of his body, the parts you’d only imagined or caught brief glimpses of. His cock was another story. Once he was naked, you went to sit up, but he smacked the inside of one of your thighs.

You stayed still before you were so shocked.

“I didn’t tell you that you could move.”

“But—”

He smacked the other thigh and you shut your mouth. “Don’t argue.”

“I’m sorry.” You figured compliance and sucking up would be the best way to get what you wanted. And that wasn’t surprising at all. Steve was such an uptight, perfect man. It wasn’t like it would be a reach to guess that he was some control freak in the bedroom.

He wrapped his hand around his cock and began stroking himself.

You were furious, that was something you could be doing. But no, he wanted to play this elaborate game to make you realize that he was in control. As if you wanted anything else. You could have rolled your eyes, but you were sure that wouldn’t score you any points.

It was hard not to dwell on how big he was. He moved slow enough that you could see every inch of him, and with more time, you worried about your ability to take him all. But the look in his eye told you that he was going to make you either way.

Your eyes flit up to his, finding he was staring at you with an amused look on his face. You frowned. “What?”

“You’re cute when you pout.”

“I’m not pouting,” you claimed.

“You are,” he insisted, moving closer.

Your eyes moved down once more, excited to watch him fuck you. You shifted on the desk, trying to hide a shiver, but you figured he had seen it anyway. This was why he liked you like this, laid out, tied up, completely naked. There was nothing that he couldn’t see.

He pressed the head of his cock to your entrance, waiting for your body to relax at least somewhat before he went on—but how the hell could you relax? He barely slipped in before you were gasping. “Shh, baby, I got you.”

The stretch of him was intoxicating. You couldn’t think of anything else but that blissful pain that you’d never felt with anyone but him. It was all Steve, so uniquely him, and something that you’d thought you would never associate with him.

Instead of moving in deeper, he kept himself there for a moment, effortlessly pumping in and out of you. He couldn’t have been more than halfway in, but it was still so much, such a harsh intrusion that felt good and bad and nice and mean. You weren’t sure what game you were supposed to be playing, but there was no way to feign cockiness at that moment, you were babbling and mewling, unashamed of all the pleasure you were receiving.

“Want a little more?”

You bit your lip and nodded, trying to focus your eyes on his face. It was either from tears or an inability to control your own body, but you couldn’t see him clearly. As he obliged, you turned down to see, breathless, panting, worried because there was still so much of him left.

He placed his hand on the center of your stomach and slid in the rest of the way, and he moaned the second his body was flat against yours. He knew you would be good to him, that your body would somehow just mold to his. You had that look about you, the kind that told him you were a brat until you didn’t need to be, until you were given something good enough to distract you.

His hips began to roll, his skin softly slapping against yours, your wet cunt echoing all around the room, drowned out by your occasional moan. He kept his hand on your stomach but began to turn it slightly when he wanted to rub his thumb over your clit, when he decided he couldn’t wait another second to feel you coming around him.

Your back arched as soon as you felt pressure there. You knew you would come soon if he didn’t stop, you knew you were going to tighten around him and what was already a tight fit was going to ache even more. It was something that scared and excited you—because if this was Steve, hard, rough, relentless, you wanted just that. You had come here asking for him, and you would take him in the most honest form he came.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

You breathed out a confirmation.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

“Your pussy is so good, baby girl.”

The words made you even wetter, which was certainly appreciated. You could still just barely see him, and you hated it; You wanted to see him, touch him, focus on nothing but him. That was why, out of pure instinct, you reached for him. You wanted your fingers to feel his muscles as he drove into you.

He immediately froze, both hands snapping up to grab your hips so he could hold you perfectly still. Just as quickly as that pleasure was building up into what you were sure would be a violent finish, it came crashing down.

“What—what the fuck?” you questioned through sharp breaths.

“Baby, I told you to keep your hands up.”

Shit. “I-I’m sorry, I forgot—”

He pulled out of you, and you instantly whimpered.

“Wait, Steve—”

He grabbed your bound wrists and pulled you down, carefully helping you stand on your feet. “Bad girls don’t get to come, honey.”

“But…I didn’t mean to—”

“Get on your knees and make it up to me.”

You did so quickly, worried any hesitance would only annoy him further. You opened your mouth for him, and he pushed his hips forward. He let out a slow, gentle groan as his hand found the back of your head. He let you get used to him, he waited until he felt your throat relax, and allowed you to learn the best ways to take him deep.

Almost experimentally, he grabbed your hair and softly rolled his hips once, then twice. Your eyes shut and you hummed around him, the only thing you could do to let him know you had no problems with this. If this was how he wanted you to make it up to him, you would gladly do so.

“Damn it,” he blurted out. He pressed his hand flat to the back of her head and began moving his hips a bit faster, but still with caution in his mind.

Your mouth and throat were wide open for him, hot and wet, and able to take so much of him. You were good, a perfectionist, something he’d come to learn over the years. He wasn’t exactly surprised that that desire to please everyone and get praise would extend to sucking him off this well.

He thrust harder and you finally gagged, he finally had found that line that he was going to play with. Your body swayed a little, but you hummed that same pleasurable sound. If he thought this was the way he was going to win, he had another thing coming.

You opened your eyes curiously, finding his to be closed. Your hands were still bound but that didn’t mean much, where they lay, you could easily reach your cunt. You teased yourself, dipping your fingers in just barely and pulling them out, running them up and over your clit, and all over again.

The way you were moaning made him a little more careless with you. He moved harder, less worried about whether you could take it. From the sound of it, you liked sucking his cock. At least, that was what he’d thought until he heard you touching yourself. It was a soft sound, you had been so careful up to that point, but you were so impossibly wet because who knew better than you how to get you off with just fingers?

He leaned over you to yank you up with his hands on your shoulders. You looked unscared, unashamed, and he had no idea how you had adjusted to this game so quickly. Just seconds ago, you were pleading with him just to fuck you, and now you were trying to push him?

“You see the belt on my pants?”

You glanced at his piled-up clothing and nodded.

“Get it for me.”

chris tag:

@chris-evans-indian-fanfic @donutloverxo @kleohoneyao3 @cevans-fics @gotnofucks @sweet-pieces-of-nothing @ice-dtae @0mrs-evans0

[chloegong]

that semi-AU romajuliette + benmars fic

i need a permanent place to store this after dumping a random google doc on twitter so here it is, the author writing fic for her own book because people gave me headcanons and they were too good not to make use of

__

the one where juliette and marshall go out for a night out on the town and roma and ben have to go along to supervise because one time they accidentally committed arson —headcanon from twitter user @leonidasvaldz

a semi AU where Benedikt and Marshall were hanging out with Roma and Juliette in those happy months R&J had together in 1922 before everything went wrong (aka you can take this as canon because it will fit the timeline but the characters won’t have memory of this in the actual published books)

Disclaimer: i wrote this in one go inside a starbucks please expect ao3 user chloegong and not Author Chloe Gong who does multiple rounds of edits on her books

Second Disclaimer: nobody go putting this on goodreads before someone on my publishing team kicks my ass (rightfully so, i’m on deadline rn and i’m writing fanfic instead of my real contracted manuscript)

Mandatory reminder that Our Violent Ends is available for preorder with all links here :)

__

It wasn’t supposed to happen again. And yet, somehow, Benedikt was watching fire curl around the side of the building, the roof beams giving a loud groan before shuddering and caving in on itself.

He turned a look onto Roma. “Your girlfriend is a maniac.”

~

Five hours earlier...

Juliette climbed in through the window of Roma’s bedroom, careful to hug the burlap bag close to her chest as she landed on his carpet. The howling wind outside drowned out some of the clinking, but the glass bottles were still making a racket no matter how carefully she hugged the bag. She had gone full throttle for tonight; when no one was watching and her relatives were downstairs crowing over a game of cards, she had snuck around and robbed the liquor cabinets at the Scarlet mansion quite generously. Now she dropped the bag onto Roma’s floor with a huff, brushing a curl of hair out of her eyes.

“Where’s Marshall?”

Roma looked up from where he was reading, putting his book down and rising from the bed smoothly.

“Well, hello.” He strode toward her, stopping before her with his arms crossed. “Lovely to see you too. You do know it is my bedroom you just snuck into, right?”

Juliette pretended to jump in surprise, looking around wildly. “Do you jest? Oh, bother. Let me climb back out and go find my real lover. Marshall! Where are—”

With a huff that seemed to double as a laugh, Roma grabbed her wrist before she could turn around and leave through the window again.

“You’re hilarious,” he said dryly.

“I know.” Juliette reached up with her free hand, clasping her cold fingers right onto his neck. Though her palm was freezing from the bitter temperatures outside, Roma hardly flinched, he only shrugged his shoulder up to keep her hand there. He couldn’t fight back the grin. For several seconds, the two of them only stood there, looking like a pair of idiots smiling at each other.

Then his door opened.

“Are we interrupting something?”

Marshall bounded into the room, throwing the door wide open. With a horrified expression, Benedikt hurried in after him and closed the door quickly, listening for movement on the other side.

“Yes, leave the door wide open,” Benedikt said. “While any White Flower strolling the corridor can peer in and see the Scarlet heir standing there in a silly coat.”

Juliette stepped away from Roma, peering down at herself as if she had forgotten what she put on. “I didn’t think it was that silly. It’s my disguise.”

“You do look a little like a housewife,” Marshall said, considering the coat.

“A fifteen-year-old housewife?”

“I suppose that is exactly why you look a little silly.”

Juliette pulled a face, but refrained from arguing further. She was here tonight because Marshall wanted to see the new Scarlet club that opened along Thibet Road, and she had promised she could sneak him in. Unfortunately, Marshall was bad at keeping secrets, and the worst at keeping secrets from Benedikt. The moment that Benedikt heard Marshall was planning on entering Scarlet territory, he had decided that he would come in accompaniment.

Juliette supposed it was only fair. Benedikt didn’t entirely trust her, but he was nice enough. He tolerated her presence and always kept an eye over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t spotted on their territory if she poked her head in to see Roma. While Juliette didn’t know much about Marshall either, he was far warmer than his best friend, and for the first time last week, they had even enjoyed an outing with just the two of them. Juliette Cai and Marshall Seo—out and about in the border territories on a quaint evening.

That outing had ended with accidental arson though, so it was rather possible that exacerbated Benedikt’s desire to play chaperone. And of course, if Benedikt was coming along, Roma wanted to tag along too.

The arson was hardly their fault, Juliette and Marshall had maintained when the Montagovs asked questions. What kind of person left a stack of hay out beside a bar? And what kind of hay was that easily flammable just from accidentally whacking one of the lanterns on the awning onto the stack?

“All right.” Juliette hauled the bag up again. “Are we ready to sneak onto Scarlet territory?”

“Absolutely not,” Benedikt muttered, strolling past her for Roma’s window. “But is that going to stop either of you?”

Before anyone could answer him, Benedikt had already hopped the small gap between windows, climbing into their neighboring building for their route out unspotted.

“Great!” Juliette said. She passed the bag to Roma so he could do the carrying. What was the point of converting a rival gang enemy into a lover if not to lug around her heavy things? “Glad we’re all so enthusiastic.”

Roma sighed, clambering onto his sill and making the climb too. “The things I do for you, dorogaya.”

Marshall hurried after him. “I would argue you’re actually doing this for me, dearest Roma!”

With a snort, Juliette climbed out last, and pulled the window after her.

~

The Scarlet club had been a bust. Of course, Benedikt had figured that would be the case from the get-go, especially if they were sneaking in at such a late hour to avoid being seen by anyone important in the Scarlet Gang. At least Juliette had provided good alcohol, and now he squinted at the label of the wine bottle under the street lamps while they walked, taking the smaller main roads along the periphery of the city.

Up ahead, Roma and Juliette were whispering to each other, though they didn’t sound like they were talking in full sentences. Those two always communicated in looks and gestures, swapping languages whenever they felt like it and ending up with some incoherent tangle of words that no one else could comprehend.

“Is there anything left in that?”

Benedikt glanced to his side, shaking the bottle to show Marshall. “One last swig. All yours.”

Marshall took the bottle. He put it to his lips and swung up, his head tipped to the sky and the line of his throat bared to the night. Benedikt shivered suddenly, a line of goosebumps rising at the back of his neck. The season had turned cold and the wind that blew onto his face was biting. He wrote off his shudder to the chill, to the temperature dropping with the longer they spent outside at such an hour.

Suddenly, Marshall was squinting into the distance. “Hey.” His call summoned Roma and Juliette’s attention from ahead, who both turned around to see what the matter was.

Marshall pointed to the dark shape off the end of the road. “Isn’t that the abandoned factory we lost to the Scarlets?”

“Is it?” Juliette asked, a sudden glee in her face.

“Why would you say that?” Roma bemoaned. He didn’t bother trying to stop her as Juliette hurried ahead, eager to explore the factory. “Look what you’ve done.”

But Marshall was wearing a similar expression, his eyes scanning the factory as they approached closer and closer. Wordlessly, he handed the bottle back to Benedikt, and though Benedikt’s head was spinning from the drink, he still recognized the exact face that Marshall made before he was going to get himself into trouble.

“Mars—”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” he insisted, tipping his chin forward. Juliette had disappeared into the factory. “You two be look-out. We wouldn’t want someone finding us here, right?”

Benedikt scarcely had a second to argue back. Marshall was already hurrying off.

~

Inside the factory, Juliette trailed her hands along the dark walls, her eyes wide. The machines looked strange in the moonlight, but stranger while sitting so idle. She was used to seeing rows and rows of workers in the daytime, trailing after her father as he ran inspections on the work of their trade partners. It might have been the wine in her system, but everything seemed to sway: sitting so inactive in movement that her eyes were imagining movement.

“Pst.”

Juliette almost jumped out of her skin.

“Christ,” she muttered, whirling around with a hand on her heart. Marshall slunk out from the shadows, both his hands in his pockets. “You gave me a fright.”

“Me? Frightening?” Marshall picked up a strange object on the table, inspected it for several seconds, then set it back down. “I am the least frightening person on the planet.”

“Yes, well, when it’s so dark, even a cuddly teddy bear would be terrifying.” Juliette felt around her dress. She thought she had tucked her lighter in here somewhere. There were little pockets sewn around the sleeves and armholes that she kept all her weapons, though if anyone asked, she would say she had the ability to materialize them out of thin air.

“Do you scream often at teddy bears?”

“Only when they sneak up on me.”

“I don’t see you screaming at Roma.”

“He gets a special pass. He’s only a teddy bear on the inside.”

Marshall snorted. He leaned down, trying to read the paper taped down to the table. At last, Juliette found her lighter—it was actually in her sock—and she brought it close, thumbing down the sparkwheel for a flame.

“Do not touch—for demolishing,” Marshall read under the new light. “Are the Scarlets going to build something new here?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Juliette replied. “My father doesn’t include me in his business meetings yet.”

“Hmm.” The shadows of the factory danced. Juliette thought she saw someone darting in her periphery, and she whirled around, but it was only Marshall’s shadow. Unfortunately, she had scared Marshall with her movement, and he bumped into her, asking, “What? What is it?”

The lighter flew out of her hands, landing on the paper.

“Nothing, nothing!” Juliette assured. “I was seeing things.”

But Marshall wasn’t convinced. He swiveled around. Peered hard into a corner. “Was it ghosts? I know this city has ghosts. All that death creates so many ghosts.”

Juliette tried to look where he was looking. She couldn’t see anything except the dark.

“There is no such thing as ghosts.”

“Just last week, I felt something walk by me and then there was no one when I looked. I swear to you, if it wasn’t ghosts then I—” Marshall stopped suddenly, turning around to look at the table. “Uh… is that supposed to happen?”

Juliette whirled around too. The whole table was on fire. “Oh, God.”

With a sudden pop, the fire sprung up and licked up to the walls. There had to be something sprayed inside the factory already to prepare for demolition, or else the flames would not be traveling with such intensive speed.

“Marshall,” Juliette said simply.

“Yes?”

She looked at him. “When the Montagovs ask, we blame the factory and say we have no idea what happened. Run!”

~

Benedikt and Roma kept watch in relative silence. Benedikt’s head was spinning, and his cousin looked like his head was doing the same if his swaying was any indication. Roma was humming softly under his breath, toeing the grass that grew around the abandoned factory.

Then, there was a sudden sound from inside, and the first tendrils of flames blew out from the topmost windows.

“Roma,” Benedikt said plainly. “I’m willing to bet my life savings that Juliette Cai just committed arson.”

Roma tilted his head up, his jaw dropping agape. At first, he could only stare at the growing fire, eating up the roof beams. Then, he said: “To be fair, it could have been Marshall.”

Benedikt threw his arms into the air. “Who looks more like the arson type, Juliette or Marshall?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“The answer was Juliette!”

Benedikt pinched the bridge of his nose. He was rapidly growing concerned, but before he could suggest they go in to search for the two, Juliette and Marshall ran out from the factory—laughing. The factory was burning down, and they were laughing, grasping at each other and spinning in circles right in front of the factory. They looked a sight: seconds away from collapsing atop of each other in utter delirium.

Benedikt turned to Roma. “Your girlfriend is a maniac.”

Roma was struggling to hold back his laugh watching her with Marshall. “I think she’s magnificent.”

Marshall stumbled, and Juliette squealed, reaching out to grab his arm before he could trip and land flat on his face. Benedikt almost—almost—let a smile slip. Before Roma could sight it and tease him for enjoying himself after all, he cleared his throat.

“What happened?” he bellowed.

“Faulty factory!” Marshall called back.

Benedikt shook his head, turning on his heel. They needed to get out of here before someone reported the fire.

“Come on!” he called back to the three. “Let’s go before the Municipal Police arrive.”

Upon Benedikt’s summons, Marshall left Juliette’s side and hurried to catch up. He slowed to a stroll once he was beside Benedikt, but Benedikt could feel Marshall watching him.

“What?” Benedikt asked. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure his cousin was following too. Thankfully he was, though it was mostly Juliette hauling him along, their hands clasped together and swinging while Roma kept looking at the fire.

“I think you enjoyed yourself,” Marshall replied smugly. “After all that complaining about sneaking into Scarlet territory.”

Benedikt reached out and rapped his knuckles on Marshall’s skull. With a shriek, Marshall darted ahead.

“You want me to enjoy myself?” Benedikt shouted after him, breaking into a run too. “Come back then! Let me throttle you!”

FIN.

[the-firebird69]

He figured out John remillard it's not happy with his fate and with the empire wants to use them for and we realize it's a risk that we sort of have to take it because he is very obscene and we're going to use it so other things are happening here but that's a major issue in concern he's beginning to be a massive pain in the ass about everything and we need him to be controlled and we need him out he really is over the top and it's too much so we're going to request from hours that they take care of the problem and today it's a huge day because he is going to lose a lot of stuff and a lot of people are adding stuff that has not really slowed down but there's so much stuff that they're having trouble moving it and they have to use the trucks to do it and use glasses and they're going like a hundred takes a while but they're moving and it's a scary ride 100 is not that bad and son says we're going 70 it seems like nothing but at a hundred the bus starts to move around especially older ones and it's kind of shaky and freaky but it's crickety not freaky. So we have other things to go up

-the plan is to drop them off in New Hampshire and it should be the last part we need by then and we're going to make sure it goes well in other words we need that kind of thing to happen smoothly and cuz I'm here annoying here son constantly annoying him that it doesn't seem like this this great thing to happen so people said he won't be here and during the revolutionary war he was kept away from Dave his due to his really really bad attitude. Other things are coming up real quick

-Hera is around the other side of the Sun and she is pleased with today's action the empire we're not the biggest aggressor it was the warlock and they have assembled a huge fleet and the huge fleet is trying to get there now the pseudo empire and the empire are destroying their fleet and it's coming to their knees. It's a huge disaster and John remillard says he doesn't care cuz he's delusional they had about 2.3 trillion ships they sent 300 billion in their toast about 500 billion are heating and they are going to be targeted before they move they're trying to suede them from doing that and the ships are overhead saying they're threatening to do it and the threatening each other their pieces of work. That would bring them to 1.5 trillion? And they're trying to get other ships out but the numbers will never be that big again unless they take tons of ships back I'm in stealing really and it is going on that they're finding out they could be wrong just several of them building ships and they have several hundred million each and have been building for several months it takes years to get that many for real these ships are going to be out of their possession they will get John remillard out as an emergency measure and they're moving now as a clan to try and do that and they heard that he is not caring about it they are actually very upset about it and things are going to change more shortly

Thor Freya

Olympus it's very big news that they're trying to attack Venus is very huge news that they're probably a lead in for the empire and it's gigantic news that Trump is going to be blamed he'll be pushed out finally if it's going to stick if it's true too we know it's true if it sticks is another thing

[queensusanthemagnificent]

It’s Gushing About Cinderella 1997 Time Again

Okay, so instead of color theory, today, I’m looking at Cinderella’s journey with trust, the Prince’s inability to recognize her at the ball, and how that aspect of the original fairytale got utilized to further along the theme of learning to trust people to love you for who you are.

Part 1: The Prince Meets Cinderella

When the prince meets Cinderella just after The Sweetest Things, there is no magic involved at all, and he’s IMMEDIATELY smitten with her. Just thinks she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen and makes no bones about trying to figure out how to ask her out even after she’s excused herself to go about her day. Cinderella is visibly uncomfortable with the attention, but doesn’t completely turn him away. We know from The Sweetest Things that she WANTS love, that she yearns for it even, but the moment someone turns around and gives it to her, she doesn’t seem to know what to do with it anymore. She’s mostly confused by the prince’s behavior, but ultimately gains enough confidence and chutzpah to call him out on continuing to pester her even when she’s made it fairly clear she’s not interested by asking him if he even knows how to treat a woman.

And of course has her iconic line:

He sticks his foot in his mouth right after by saying she’s “not like most girls” which I will somewhat excuse as we know the prince has grown up massively sheltered and has likely not spoken to many women outside of the trappings of nobility who are all attempting to gain his or his parents’ favor, particularly as a suitor (we also know from a later scene that his mother has been attempting to set him up for a while and this is likely how he has met most women he’s ever interacted with).

Cinderella chooses to be forgiving and admits that she’s led a fairly sheltered life, thus how she’s gained her opinions I suppose, and the prince admits the same and they really seem to connect TOGETHER for the first time before the stepmother interrupts. Despite her choice to try to walk away from the prince when he initially showed interest in her, Cinderella risks her stepmother’s impatience and irritation by turning back one last time to watch the prince leave. She WANTS love, she WANTS to trust that someone could be interested in her like this, but she doesn’t completely trust it to happen or to last.

Part 2: The Prince sees Cinderella at the Ball

The next time the prince sees Cinderella is at the ball. He’s just spent the last several hours making nice with a bunch of women he doesn’t know and isn’t interested in so he can appease his mother. Presumably, he could probably expect the girl he met in the marketplace a few days ago might make an appearance given that the invite went out to all the girls in the kingdom, but he never mentions it. While it was clearly a nice connection to make in the moment, he seems to mostly chalk it up to a successful trip to the village, made nicer by a pretty girl and doesn’t think much about it afterwards, esp since the problem of the ball comes up immediately and his attention gets derailed.

In other words, the prince is not thinking about Cinderella anymore. Not maliciously, but he’s got other things on his mind, so when she shows up and he doesn’t recognize her despite having flirted with her only a few days ago, it’s somewhat understandable. Plus, she’s all made up with a completely different hairstyle and a nice dress and they have only met ONCE, for a few minutes total, several days ago.

But, that being said, while he doesn’t recognize her, he IS once again immediately smitten with her, and he does have that sense of familiarity, he just can’t place where. The problem then comes when he starts to try to guess how he knows her.

His guesses are all related to Cinderella being rich and/or nobility like him rather than considering that commoner girl he flirted with in the marketplace only a few days ago. Cinderella reacts fairly kindly to those guesses, telling him that she can’t swim, so she wouldn’t have been at the lake that summer, or that she’s never been to the mountains where his lodge is. But these assumptions eventually feed into Cinderella’s feelings of inadequacy and her fears that he won’t care for her when he finds out who she really is despite his initial reaction to her in the marketplace.

She starts to get flustered again when he calls her beautiful and her attention is drawn to how everyone around her is looking at them, but is effectively distracted by the Prince beginning to sing and only becomes flustered again once the King and Queen decide to insert themselves into the situation and get to know her and the reality of what seems to be happening hits her. She just intended to go to a fun party and dance a little, but now she’s gotten the attention of the Prince and it’s coming back to her that the point of the ball was for the Prince to find a WIFE. But she can tell, both from the Prince’s earlier comments and the ones made by the King and Queen asking who she is and who her family is, that they’re assuming things about her status that aren’t true.

Cinderella wants to keep living in a fantasy, though, where a Prince could love someone like her, so every time her reality comes into the conversation, she tries to move the conversation away. She wants to live in the bubble of romance the Prince is creating for her rather than talking about her family or what he wants in a wife.

And it works, right up until the clock strikes midnight and that reality crashes down on her like an avalanche.

Despite everything they’ve talked about that night, about how he knows she’s The One despite just having met her, about what he wants in a wife and how she seems to fit that description, about their feelings, Cinderella does not trust that he’s going to like her once he finds out who she is. Because despite how much time they’ve spent with each other (which, according to clock, is about 45 minutes now), he hasn’t recognized her as the girl from the marketplace ONCE.

Cinderella herself never mentions whether she recognizes the Prince from the marketplace or not, but we can fairly safely assume that she does. That moment meant a LOT to her, it was likely the first friendliness she had been shown in a while, especially by a stranger, and it hit her like a ton of bricks. It showed her that someone COULD be interested in her for who she is, could grow to love her.

And of course, meeting the Prince’s family at the ball gives her a sense of what it would be like to be part of HIS family, a family that already does seem to like her well enough and clearly care about their son. It’s everything she’s ever dreamed of having, but they all believe her to be something she isn’t, and she can’t trust that they’d treat her the same if they knew. So instead of risking it all for love, for that dream, she runs again. She’d rather leave it one really good night and a lifelong what-if than get rejected one more time.

Cinderella runs home, back to what she knows, back to what’s comfortable. In the “Do I Want You” reprise, Cinderella appears wistful, but resigned. The Prince, on the other hand, seems almost more confident and determined. He’s smiling at the empty courtyard, even before he sees the shoe left behind. Cinderella is prepared to let everything go, but the Prince no longer is. She told him at the ball is that the problem with most people is that they only dream about things without ever doing anything about it.

So he does. He commits himself to finding her, even WITHOUT the shoe, he’s committed to finding her.

Part 3: The Prince Finds Cinderella

Obviously, the fact that the Prince has the need to go out and have everyone try on the shoe means he still has no idea who Cinderella is. He never asks her name at the ball, so he hasn’t connected her to the girl from the marketplace who DID tell him her name. He can’t just go into the village and ask for “Cinderella” yet. But the fact that he goes INTO the village at all means he has recognized that this girl could be literally anyone, commoner or nobility, and it doesn’t matter to him which it is. He’s making no assumptions about her identity anymore.

And then he sees her. In an obvious throwback to their first meeting, he finds her having just dropped all of her belongings in front of a carriage because it moved in front of her a little quickly.

Backing up, though. Cinderella’s gone through an entire journey during this time period. She left the Prince behind at the ball, ready to leave that dream behind as “impossible.” And gives it one last go with the family she was left with, trying to connect with them, be a part of it. And it fails. Again.

But it gives her the strength to realize that this was never going to work. And while she doesn’t believe she can be what a Prince wants, she DOES believe she deserves to be loved and deserves better than what her stepmother is dishing out.

So, the next day, while the Prince is out with a glass slipper, going through every eligible girl in the kingdom trying to find her, Cinderella is preparing to leave her childhood home and set out on her own. Even when she ostensibly DOES hear the Prince in the house, trying on the slipper with her family, she chooses not to make herself known to him, and walks away.

But not quite fast enough and the Prince sees her.

She is once again dressed as a commoner with no magic involved, and this time, the Prince immediately recognizes her both as the woman from the marketplace AND the woman from the ball. From behind. By referencing their first meeting where he initially made his interest known, he indicates that he still likes her despite now knowing her background, and perhaps even BECAUSE he now knows her background as the first woman he ever met who truly understood how he felt and treated him like a person, with kindness and respect, rather than like a Prince.

Cinderella has a choice here. He recognizes her, yes, but she doesn’t have to play along. She doesn’t have to turn around and admit to anything, she COULD, presumably, choose to keep running. But the fact that he RECOGNIZES her, finally, and still wants her, gives her just enough courage to turn around and trust him and confirm her identity, both as the girl in the marketplace and the girl who fits the slipper.

And it pays off. Trusting someone to love you as you are, having the courage to actually go after your dream, to let it come true, pays off.

Have I mentioned how much I love this movie recently? Because this is PEAK Cinderella, and I love this movie.

[accessible-mobpsycho100]

[ID from other post: Following are three black and white comics pages of characters from the anime Mob Psycho 100, each with an image description below it.

Page 1:

Five panels. First, the caption, "So that keeps happening," above several figures in the ruined shell of a building. One of them tilts her head back to shout, "Take five, people!" The rubble is rendered with some detail: plaster has cracked off the walls in sheets, cabinets are smashed with their guts scattered, a staircase has collapsed into a pile of junk. The workers are dressed in safety vests. They're carrying and raking in various kinds of rubble. A dumpster is already halfway full and there's so much left to clean up. At the boundary created by the building's foundation there are stakes marking the edges of the worksite. Tsubomi walks a path along one edge, trailing an arrow that says, "Walking home." She looks at one of the workers: Mob, who stands with his head tilted back, rake in one hand, small sweat drops flying off his face.

Second, Mob is facing into the site, away from Tsubomi, so when she comes up behind him to ask "You're volunteering with the cleanup people?" he jumps and says "Uh!"

Third, Mob looks over his shoulder at her, eyes wide, off-put. He's surrounded by the collapsed building and rubble. He says, "H-hi. Yeah. I'm responsible. Uh, for my community."

Fourth, Tsubomi leans her head forward. The trees and buildings behind her seem to lean forward too. She says, "Bet it felt good though." Mob's head is tilted back and his shoulders are off-center, like he's trying to hide. "I--I mean..."

Fifth, Mob stands with his shoulders and head lowered. His expression is a little strange but he is frank as he says, rubble peeking out from behind him, "...Yeah. I-- ...kinda. Yeah."

Page 2:

Five panels. First, Tsubomi and Mob now face each other. Tsubomi tilts her head away to say, "But then there's the consequence. Always consequences." She looks frustrated. Mob looks resigned but a little satisfied to say to her, "Well, yeah."

Second, the ruined street is behind the pair as Mob leans on his rake and changes the subject, "Uh. How's moving?" Tsubomi pushes her hair behind her ear and smiles as she says, "Ha."

Third, a closeup of Tsubomi as she shrugs. A car and a telephone pole are tilted at sharp angles by the torn-up concrete behind her. "...bad, actually. I hate having to like, pack everything away." Her expression is frank.

Fourth, a closeup of Mob. He tilts his head to one side with an expression of sadness and recognition on. His gloved hands overlap one another on top of the handle of the rake.

Fifth, a long shot of the rubble again, Mob and Tsubomi in the corner. Mob, resting his chin on his hands again and looking down, asks, "Is the bad part shoving everything in a box, or is the bad part the empty room?" Tsubomi, also contemplative, looks off to say, "Huh. That's a good question." The rubble in the scene clears as you follow their speech bubbles, which are otherwise illegible, as if you were moving away from them, so you could still tell that they were talking even as they drifted into inaudibility.

Page 3:

Four panels. First, the caption, "T-minus 48 hours. The Kageyama house." The panel is a wide shot of Tsubomi knocking on the Kageyamas' front door. There are little plants lining the edges of the house. Tsubomi stands just under the A-frame overhang, though it's not raining. She's wearing a jacket and pants.

Second, Ritsu opens the door. He stares slightly up at Tsubomi, brows furrowed but otherwise neutral in expression, as Tsubomi says, "Oh, sup, Ritsu. I just wanted to let the Kageyamas know that our house phone number isn't gonna change, in case Mob needs to get hold of me again."

Third, Ritsu just stands there. He maintains his furrowed brow. His eyes are off-center and slightly different sizes. He's surrounded by tentacles of circular lines in every direction. He is silent.

Fourth, Tsubomi walks away. "Okay bye!" This is a small panel. The view is from above the roof so Tsubomi is squashed, her face reduced to lowered eyelids and a resigned smile. From beneath the roof edge, unseen, Ritsu says, "I'll pass it along."

End ID]

The Same People (4/5)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Drive folder with all pages + PDF

In which Mob recognizes a metaphor. Click for bigger images. Personal notes under the cut. These take a lot of words to describe so I made a separate post here with each page and its ID in order.

port 4 was up to 7 pages so i thought fuck it and split it up! heres the first three, the final four are fully penciled so they just need to be inked and wont expand anymore. theyll still take a minute tho. the things we do for "artistic effect" and "emotional resonance," i tell u what. ill be done before the end of april i think!!

for the record the guy glaring at tsubomi in part 3 is not ritsu, hes a guy i made up to be a scary asshole teenager. ritsu is being a little shitty here but its also like I Get It, yknow