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zepskies · 11 months

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Break Me Down - Part 11

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Happy Father's Day and early Juneteenth! In honor of the holiday weekend, here's an early chapter update. 😘

Word Count: 4,000 Tags/Warnings: Violence and peril, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Part 11: The Lion’s Den

“Where is she?” Ben asked, once he and Frank were loaded in the car.

Loco and his team had to stay behind as their distraction for escape. If they weren’t slaughtered, they’d be taken into custody.

Ben knew he could’ve wasted all of them, Butcher, his team, the CIA, but the nuclear power in his chest had refused to cooperate…

Anyway, Black Noir hadn’t been there. So it was all the more useless to stick around. The real plan was with you, and he was very surprised that you’d stuck to it…but maybe he shouldn’t have been.

“She was brought to the Tower,” Frank informed him.

Ben smirked. “Good. But pretty fucking stupid of Stan to stick around there when he knew I’d be coming.”

He looked over and noticed Frank’s frown as he drove.

“Unless he’s not at the Tower,” Frank said.

Ben’s smirk fell. Why would that prick take her there if…

“We have to be open to the possibility that his Chief of Security is taking the matter of his daughter into his own hands,” Frank said. “Or she’s improvising.”

Ben frowned.

That didn’t change when they arrived at the Tower, and attempted to use the entrance through the back garage to avoid attention. But it didn’t matter.

The entire squad of Vought security, included what looked like some added muscle (hopped up on what smelled like V24), met them when they reached the lobby of the building. Now that the Seven had been disbanded, there was no pretense of “good guys vs. bad guys.” It was just defense and siege.

And in front of them all was Black Noir.

“There you are,” Ben said, but the other supe didn’t even tilt his head in greeting. He was a still statue, an attack dog given a single mission.

When Noir surged forward, Ben ran to meet him. It was a clash of blade to shield, fist to fist, grappling and reflexes that only Compound V could endow. The match tore through the lobby, then up the large staircase as Ben continued to fight his way up to Stan’s office.

Frank was already on his way up to you, but it would take him time with Vought security crawling all over them. He was good, and temporarily a supe, but he was still just one man.

Meanwhile, Ben and Noir’s fight spilled into the upper floors, through walls and offices and screaming employees trying to get out of their way.

Once they reached near the floor below Stan’s office, Ben got an arm around Black Noir’s neck, and with his free hand tried to unmask him. He wanted to know for sure what lied underneath it, if it was actually the Noir he knew. Or if it was something else entirely.

But Noir twisted with superior reflexes and flipped Ben hard over his shoulder. In the process, he ripped off Ben’s helmet. His brown hair hung over his brows as he pushed to his feet, deliberately taking his time.

When he turned, Noir was standing there with the helmet crunched in his hand. Rolling his neck, Ben prepared to jump back into the fight, but a new sound reached his ears.

He heard you on the floor above. And you were fighting someone…

Ben pressed a finger to the comm in his ear.

“Frank, you got eyes on her?”

V24 had endowed the man with x-ray vision. A moment later, Frank patched through while he struggled and fought.

“She needs help,” he said gravely.

Ben took his hand off the comm, gritting his teeth. Black Noir was still waiting on him, attuned to Ben’s every move as the other supe brandished one of his blades.

Shit, Ben thought. He needed to end this.

Right fucking now.

That resolve helped him take a deep breath, then summon the energy inside him. He focused with the aim of blasting a clean stream of power at Black Noir; not enough to take out the whole building, but enough to take out just him.

His insides felt molten when the power collected, and finally released at his target.

Noir covered himself at the last moment with a piece of fallen debris (a half-crumbled wall), but it only created a small buffer. The force of the blast itself pushed him down the hall and through the side of the building.

Meanwhile, you were holding your own…but you were also getting beat to hell.

You were battered, with blood dribbling down the corner of your mouth from a particularly bad hit.

You were still standing though.

“You’ve gotten soft,” Jon remarked. He’d broken a sweat, had some bruises, and was panting for breath just like you. But he was more in control as he swatted a well-aimed, yet ultimately weak fist as your strength waned. He used his own to smack you down again.

“I gave you time to come around, and this is what you did with it,” he said, shaking his head. “Disappointing.”

When you tried to stand on shaking legs, he kicked you in the dead center of your chest. You felt your ribs crack as you fell back into the glass coffee table.

You gasped for breath, turning onto your side as glass pricked at your back, your sides, your arm. You coughed, wincing at the agony of knife-like pain near your lungs. Blood flecked from your mouth onto your arm, and for a moment, you stared at it in a daze.

But then Jon was above you. You tried to swipe at his face, but he bat your hand away, his brows furrowed angrily. He turned you back onto your back and wrapped a hand around your neck. Your eyes flew wide with panic.

He squeezed with enough pressure that it wouldn’t crush your windpipe, but it was sure to knock you out eventually. You slapped and clawed at his hand, but he only shushed you.

“What you need now is what you’ve always needed. A firm hand,” he said. “But I’m going to help you. I promise, I will.”

The fight drained out of you as it became impossible to breathe, and harder still to block out his words from entering your brain.

But then, the vice around your throat was gone. Oxygen poured back into your lungs as you gasped, then coughed again when your fractured ribs protested.

Your eyelids fluttered open in time to see your father thrown hard into the far wall. You heard the sick crack and breaking of bone as he landed.

Still, you struggled to breathe.

Tears leaked from your eyes when you looked up and found Ben. His helmet was missing, and he wore a furious, steely frown. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out except for more coughing, and more blood.

To your surprise, he tucked his shield on his back and bent down to scoop you up into his arms.

You cringed, uttering an agonized sound when he tried to move you.

Ben hesitated. Looking down at you, some of his anger drained. He made a slower ascent as he straightened to his full height.

And without a word, he carried you out of the room and down the ruined hallway. All the while, you stared at the side of his face. His jaw was still clenched, his brows knitted, his eyes set dead ahead.

You wondered why he had to wait for moments like this to show you who he truly was.

“What are you, some kind of hero?” you managed to quip, offering a small smile.

Ben glanced down at you, and gradually smirked. “Something like that.”

When his foot slipped on a piece of debris, he righted himself quick. But the jerking movement jostled you, eliciting another pained whimper. Your hand gripped at his chest, digging into the grooves of his suit.

“Hold on,” he murmured. His lips briefly pressed to the crown of your head. “We’re getting the fuck outta here.”

Your eyes closed at the tender touch, and a few more tears spilled down your cheeks.

“He…knew,” you managed to say. “Knew I was lying.”

“I know,” said Ben. “I should’ve fucking known better.”

You marveled at that near apology. Your lips trembled as you rested your head against his chest. You just couldn’t help it anymore.

“Was my idea,” you admitted.

“Yeah, well, evidently not all your ideas are aces,” he said.

You could’ve gotten angry, but you saw the way he moved with care, trying not to slip again for your sake. You tried at a smile.

“Guess not,” you said, though you bit your lip at the pain that seemed to radiate through your entire body. Ben seemed to notice.

“Just relax,” he said, a deep rumble. But there was a soothing note to it, you thought. Or maybe, you just liked the sound of his voice.

Then silence fell between the two of you, both comfortable and tense as Ben focused on potential threats in his surroundings.

All the while, you continued to rest your eyes. Instead of your pain, you tried to concentrate on his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek.

“It’s about fucking time,” you eventually heard Ben grouse.

You opened your eyes and were relieved to see Frank exiting the stairwell to meet you and Ben. His face and black tactical gear were splattered with blood, but he looked fine, more or less. His gaze roamed over you with his usual stoicism, but you thought you saw a glint of concern.

“I take it Stan Edgar isn’t here,” said Frank.

“You could fucking say that,” Ben snarked. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

“Sir.” Frank saw something ahead, behind you. Ben turned to find Black Noir silently standing in the middle of the hall, with a large, suspicious-looking gun in his hands.

Without taking his eyes off Noir, Ben gestured to Frank. He came up beside you, and Ben passed you into Frank’s arms.

“Get her out of here,” Ben ordered. With a nod, Frank carried you back the way he came, towards the staircase. You tried to peer over his shoulder.

“He shouldn’t face Noir alone,” you said, even though every breath was a challenge with the sharp pain in your chest.

“He’ll meet us after,” Frank told you. But as soon as he started down the stairs, a fresh team of Vought security and police came to meet you.

Meanwhile, Ben stared down the hall at his opponent. Black Noir activated the strange gun, which lit up with a blue energy.

“You can bring out any kind of fancy artillery you want, but it’s not going to stop me from killing you,” Ben taunted.

Noir remained silent, of course, but he aimed the gun and fired. It shot a potent, crystal blue beam of energy that ate through Ben’s shield, and eventually hit him in the chest before he could finish revving up his own power. The blast from the gun, it wasn’t hot.

It was ice cold. So frigid that it extinguished the heat that had been building in his chest, but it wasn’t diffusing his power completely…it just made it even harder to control.

And the resulting backlash was overwhelming.

Ben woke slowly, like wading through molasses. Usually his mind was sharp, even when he woke from a booze-induced coma. Now he felt groggy, and it was hard to focus or even force his body to sit up on the hard cot he was laying on.

Glancing down, he realized he’d been changed out of his suit. He was dressed in a plain gray shirt and matching pants, no shoes. He knew a prison outfit when he saw one, just as he now knew where he was: a white padded cell.

Fuck.

At least it was better than a frigid coffin…but in his mind, not by much.

He slid his legs over and managed to push up onto his feet.

Why’s it so fucking misty in here? he thought, waving his hand through the smokey air. And why was he so tired?

He soon got his answer when he realized who stood at the large window at the front of his cell.

Stan Edgar.

The man himself, dressed in a well-tailored navy suit, was watching him with crossed arms.

“We did hope you would remain on sabbatical,” said Stan. “But I had a feeling you would return, and come directly to us.”

Stan gestured to the large cell. “This was our contingency plan.”

Ben made his way, with difficulty, closer to Stan, who pointed at the air vents above that were pumping in a gas of some kind.

“A light mist of Novichok,” Stan explained. “Enough to keep you docile.”

“And if I’m not?” Ben asked. His voice was edged with grit, and the promise of retribution.

“We can up the dose, put you to sleep indefinitely,” Stan replied. “But you have my attention. What would you like to discuss?”

“The conversation I planned on having was…a little different,” Ben said darkly. “But first, let’s start with what you used to clone Black Noir.”

“I suppose there’s no real harm in telling you,” Stan said. Even his voice was grating on Ben’s ears, the smug prick.

“We kept some of Homelander’s blood as an insurance policy. But, we’ve learned from our mistakes.”

“Right,” Ben scoffed. “How’s that?”

“This Noir is not a carbon copy, but nor is he a megalomaniac. He’s under our control,” Stan said.

“Until he isn’t,” Ben snarked. If he thought about it, that was something you would say. Maybe your penchant for smart-ass remarks had gotten into his head.

“And that new gun?” he asked. “Don’t tell me your little lab rats put that together just for me.”

Stan’s lips made a wry turn.

“It was a breakthrough project. Temporarily destabilizes the energy you generate when you charge up like a Power Puff Girl.” Stan thought for a moment, then inclined his head. “A reference, I realize, which may be lost on you.”

“So what’s the play here?” Ben said. He was getting impatient. “You know, when I break out, things aren’t gonna be pretty.”

Stan didn’t seem bothered by the clear threat.

“In the meantime,” he said, “you won’t be alone.”

Stan stepped back and revealed the cell right across the hall. Through the window, Ben could see you, lying unconscious on a shitty cot in similar gray pajamas. His brows crunched as he narrowed his eyes, trying to peer in closer. You looked like you’d been bandaged up, at least.

“You also managed to put my Chief of Security in Intensive Care, but his daughter should be fine…if a bit worse for wear,” Stan informed him.

Ben glared back, his lips curling. Sloppy of him. He should’ve made sure that bastard was dead.

“That’s cute, considering he’s the demented fuck who beat her to hell,” Ben said.

Stan rose a solitary brow. “And at whose behest did she enter the lion’s den?”

Ben had nothing to say to that.

You woke with a pained groan before your eyes even opened. Your body felt like a walking welt.

Your brain pounded like bongo drums, your chest felt tender with every infinitesimal movement, but you realized that you’d been seen to medically, at least. Your head was bandaged, and you felt that the blood had been wiped from your face and arms.

You looked up and found, with a sigh, that you were indeed in a cell. But you softened when you found Ben through the large glass window, in a cell of his own. He was sitting on his bed, arms crossed, with his back against the wall. His eyes found yours, and his lips twitched.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

He sounded off. Tired, you thought. And you noticed a steady mist being piped into his room.

Shit. Novichok, you surmised with a frown.

“You okay?” you asked.

Ben chuckled a little. “You’re the one who looks like hell.”

“Why, thank you,” you replied wryly.

There was a pitcher and a cup of water on a tray, a small paper cup of what you assumed were painkillers, and an ice pack next to you on the cot.

You hesitated on the pills, but in light of your incredible pain, you had no choice. You took the pills, drank the water, and grabbed the ice pack, pressing it against your sternum. You sat up all the way with a slow gait and a pained groan.

“Go slow,” he warned. “Bet you’re missing that Temp. V right about now.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“How’d you get caught?” he asked.

That succeeded in dimming your mood. You explained that Frank had been forced to set you on your feet when you were confronted by more security and a police squad.

The man had been a one-man weapon; hopped up on V24 as he was, he managed to fight his way down to the garage, where you slowly, painfully crept down there.

You and Frank had almost reached his car, but you held him back. You were stubborn about waiting on Ben, even considered going back for him.

That was when the shot rang out, hitting Frank point blank in the chest.

Before you could even bend to help him, you were taken, dragged back into the building, and knocked out before you could take your captor’s gun.

You tried in vain to wipe away fresh tears while you retold the story.

Bottom line: Frank’s death was your fault. Though while he frowned in disappointment, Ben didn’t seem to hold it against you.

“Good on ya, Frank,” Ben murmured. “You went down fucking swingin’.”

“What about you? What happened with Black Noir?” you asked after a moment. Sniffling, you met Ben’s eyes.

He eventually told you about the strange gun Vought had commissioned just for him. And the more you listened, the deeper your frown became. It sounded impossible.

“Makes you wonder what else they’ve been cooking up in that lab,” you muttered.

“Other than Noir?” Ben quipped. He told you about that too.

“We can figure this out,” you said. “If nothing else, my team, the CIA, they’re looking for both of us…if for different reasons.”

Ben scoffed at that. “A silver lining there. Make no mistake, we’re getting the fuck out of here. Just…need a minute to think.”

But he was starting to wane. It was taking all his energy to concentrate on your voice, to even keep his eyes open. The steady stream of gas being pumped into his cell made it damn near impossible, and it was frustrating beyond belief.

Because if he fell asleep now, there was no telling when he’d wake up. And fuck if Ben would ever admit to the panic he felt welling up into his chest.

“Aaah, fuck!” he growled, pounding a fist against the wall.

You noticed, biting your lip in concern…until an idea made you smile. It was something you used to do to distract your sister when she was little.

“Why are colds bad criminals?” you asked.

Ben just blinked at you. “What?”

He asked not because he understood what you were doing, but because he was genuinely confused.

“Because they’re easy to catch,” you said, making a drumming motion with your hands. “Buddum-ch.”

Your neighbor just stared back at you, unimpressed.

“Okay, not a fan of that one. Let me see…okay,” you raised a finger. “What does a baby computer call its father?”

Ben’s eyes narrowed, like he couldn’t tell if you were serious.

“Data!” you said, biting your lip at an embarrassed smile. It curved Ben’s lips, but he was stubborn.

“Why was 6 afraid of 7?” you asked.

“Jesus Christ, enough…” he muttered.

“Because 7’s a dick, that’s why,” you said. And your straight face lasted for all of three seconds before you ended up giggling. It hurt your bruised body, but it lightened you to see the reluctant smile tug its way onto Ben’s face.

“All right,” he said at last. He briefly closed his eyes, trying to remember a joke he’d heard Loco tell. “How do you make a pool table laugh?”

You smiled. “How?”

“Tickle its balls,” Ben said. Your answering snort deepened his smile into a smirk.

“Playing bridge is just like sex,” you said. Ben shook his head. His grandmother used to play fucking bridge.

But regardless, he took the bait.

“How’s that?”

“If you don’t have a good partner, you better have a good hand,” you said with a smirk.

Ben made a sound of amusement, though it wasn’t quite a laugh. You traded these back and forth, each trying to make the other crack with progressively dirtier jokes (though you suspected Ben was just trying to disgust you).

You considered yourself the winner when Ben finally chortled a deep, belly laugh that showed his charming smile.

It made you smile in return.

Ben rested a hand on his chest, but when his mirth died down, he realized just how tired he was. Still, he wasn’t ready to let go of this. His connection with you tethered him to reality, even if reality sucked dick right now.

His gaze met yours. “Why don’t you sing something, crooner?”

You bit your lip once again. “Like what?”

Ben’s eyes closed.

“You know the one,” he said. A softer smile graced your lips, though he couldn’t see it.

“You’re getting sentimental in your old age,” you teased. He chuckled.

“Just sing, for fuck’s sake.”

His brows were knitted, like he was trying all he could to stay awake. You took pity on him.

“If I didn’t care, more than words can say…” you began to sing softly. “If I didn’t care…would I feel this way?”

Every extended note was painful, but it was worth it to see his face relax.

Stan Edgar’s lips pursed, and he set down his cell phone on his desk. Victoria was screening his calls.

Disappointing, he thought, but not unexpected. He surveyed the cleanup crew wiping up debris, glass, and blood from the lounge area with a dispassionate gaze.

This was going to take a while.

So after drumming his fingers on the mahogany surface, Stan decided to push up from his desk and head downstairs via the elevator. It took him all the way down to Level 0, the home of one of Vought’s most secure R&D labs.

There his most trusted scientist, Dr. Tonya Baker, was at the helm with her team at work on various projects. Most of which were not sanctioned by the government.

Stan folded his hands behind his back and reached her side, and she set down a beaker filled with a green, buzzing liquid.

“Good afternoon, sir,” she greeted.

“Tonya, you know what I’m about to ask,” he said. She bobbed her head and turned to face him in her rolling desk chair.

“We’re still working on solutions. Without his cooperation, safely extracting Soldier Boy’s DNA is a tricky thing,” she said.

“You don’t say?” Stan said dryly. “What are our options?”

“Well, needles will only break, as you know,” said Dr. Baker. “The scientists in Russia found that only Soldier Boy is strong enough to break his own skin.”

“And I doubt he’ll open a vein for us,” Stan said, “even if we threaten to put him to sleep.”

He didn’t even think leveraging with the girl would aid, more than complicate their goals. While it was something to consider, Stan would rather find the path of least resistance here. Soldier Boy was…volatile at best.

“How much of Homelander’s blood remains?” he asked.

“None,” the doctor replied. “We used the last of it to clone Black Noir. And a hair sample is not enough to create additional subjects…at the very least, a urine sample. Even Dr. Vogelbaum managed that.”

Stan sent her shrewd look. If only he still had Dr. Vogelbaum in his employ. If only the man were still alive.

What a waste of a talented, resourceful man.

“That will be a problem,” Stan said.

“Not necessarily.” Dr. Baker adjusted a monitor screen at her desk. It displayed the feed from Soldier Boy’s cell.

She pointed to the toilet in the corner of the cell. Then she called over one of her assistants.

“Tell Maintenance to cut the water, and then a section of the pipes.”

AN: Okay. 😅 I know I'm gonna get some mixed reviews on this one (Let me know what you thought!).

But despite the teaser, I think you'll enjoy where the story's headed next...

Next Time:

They wheeled in what looked like a large metal casket. You had only seen one of these in pictures, but it had to be a cryochamber.

A doctor in her mid-fifties accompanied them, giving directions on how to safely enter Ben’s cell. Your eyes widened.

“What the hell are you doing?” you shouted.

Panic trilled down your spine as the guards fitted themselves with special suits and gas masks. The doctor turned toward you as the guards led you out of your cell and into the hall.

“You’re being transported,” she informed you.

Keep Reading: PART 12

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

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@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @beautiful-life-coded @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

#The Lion's Den #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #soldier boy/ben x reader #the boys au #enemies to lovers #frenemies to lovers #private investigator!reader #the boys amazon #soldier boy smut #break me down #Part 11 #zepskies writes

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shojizbae · 2 months

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JJ Dating a Kook

JJ picked up a job caddying at a golf course

He makes good tips for the first two months

One day he is assigned to a caddy for a mother, father and daughter

He expects some rich little 9 year old with her head up her ass

Enter you, beautiful, graceful, kind, and damn good at golf

He blushes (for the first time since he was 12 and found his dads nudie mag) when you accidentally brush his knuckles when he hands you your nine iron

Your dad, who’s the typical rich overprotective Kook dad, noticed this and tries to stiff him on a his tip

You noice that he only hands him a 50 for putting up with your parents nonsense for four hours

You point out one of your dads work buddies and your parents drift over to chit chat

You grab your dads wallet and pull a handful of twenties and shout that you need the rest room before you leave

You run over to JJ where he’s parking the golf cart he’d just driven y’all around on when you approach him

He jumps up and removes the course company hat to greet you

“My dad’s an asshole, here’s the rest of your tip.” You hand him the hand and he numbly receives it

“Thanks,” he chuckles and puts his hat back in his head. When he gets home and counts it he realizes that you had tipped him $240

“I feel like I’ve seen you at a bonfire,” he looks up for the wad that he was trying g to approximate

“Yeah, I go to most of them,” he takes his eyes down to the salmon skort you were wearing, it matched your hat

“I hope I’ll see you at the one this Saturday,” you giggle and skip away leaving him stunned

He does see you that Saturday. You were standing my the fire in black sweatpants and a royal blue bikini top. arms crossed with a red solo cup loosely held in your fingers

The fire made you look so radiant

He down the rest of his PBR and grabbed two more. The lion enters the den.

“Whatever that is looks like shit,” he hands you one of the beers he’s holding.

“Kinda” you throw back the final swig and toss the cup into the flames. You receive the glass bottle with half smile and look back into the fire to watch the cup melt “Thanks JJ”

His heart sings you remembered him!

You going golfing again soon?” It’s the only thing you two have in common so far

“No, I don’t get out often. My parents don’t want me out of the house without supervision. They have no idea I’m here, think I’m at the gym.”

“At,” he checks his phone “11:40?”

“Yeah,” you bite the cap of your beer off and spit it away from JJ “they’re kinda naive”

You spend the rest of the night huddled up to his furnace like body cracking jokes about pogues and kooks alike

Surprisingly you’re back at the golf course 3 days later. This time donning a shorter navy blue skort and a gray polo. You request explicitly for Jj to be your caddy

You had convinced your dad to let you go alone.

You flirt with him the whole time he’s driving you around the course. Purposefully grabbing his hand when he hands you a club. Resting your hand on his thigh as he drives. Readjusting the company hat he’s wearing. He may have cute hair but he can’t hide his cute face with it.

When you're in a secluded part of the course, you make out against the golf cart for a few minutes. Having accidentally hit into some surrounding woods

#I'm just clearing out my drafts #jj maybank #obx fic #jj maybank x reader #netflix #outer banks #obx kooks #pogues for life

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ourloveisforthelovely · 3 months

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The Family (Part 1)

Regulus Black AU

Request: Can you write a story where Regulus and the reader have been best friends for years. After Hogwarts, they move to France and get married without telling The Blacks? After being away a few years, they come back and surprise everyone.

Parings: Regulus Black x Reader

___

“You know that my family isn’t friendly…right?”

You looked up from your dressing table. Regulus sat on the bed looking at you with a slightly worried look.

“Like I’m concerned. I can be unfriendly too. Let fire meet fire.”

You chose to ignore the little wince that your “husband” gave you. It was no secret that Regulus was worried about facing his parents after eloping. This was the most “un-Regulus” like thing that he had ever done in his life. Meeting the repercussions of his actions was now beginning to worry him.

It had been nearly three years since Regulus had seen or talked to his family. The two of you had been hiding out in France. After moving back to England, it was time to face the proverbial music.

“Y/n, I really don’t think that you know what you are getting into. My parents aren’t like your parents. Mine are deranged and…chaotic.”

You put your brush down before moving to settle yourself on Regulus’ lap. Reaching out you twirled your fingers around one of the curls that was about to fall into his eyes.

“Regulus, we have been best friends since we were 11. I know all about your family and their…ways. It's going to take a lot more than I am the almighty Walburga Black to scare me off. Granted, I do wish that I could have a mother-in-law to do fun things with but, hey, you get what you get. You, my love, are worth whatever those nutcases have to throw at me.”

You were relieved when Regulus smiled. It wasn’t often that a smile graced his face but when it did, your heart melted.

“Maybe, if I’m l lucky, mother will fall over dead from a heart attack and the rest of the family will just spontaneously combust.”

Regulus commented with a smile. He knew what he was getting into. Regulus knew that his family was about to have a fit when he brought his new “wife” home. He knew that evening’s dinner was bound to be a fiasco. You were the absolute last person that Walburga wanted Regulus to marry. She hated the fact that the two of you were best friends. The literal only reason why she finally shut up about it was the fact that you were a Slytherin and a pure blood.

“If you must be friends with that girl, fine. It isn’t like you are going to marry her one day.”

Regulus had never forgotten that comment from Walburga. He had been 13 at the time and told his mother that you were his friend. He had no intention of stopping being your friend. It didn’t matter how angry it made his mother. Regulus had banked on his “being his mother’s favorite” card to keep her from beating the stuffing out of him after that comment.

To Regulus’ relief, Walburga stomped off muttering to herself about wondering why her sons were so obsessed with the Potter children. She just couldn’t understand what was so fascinating that Regulus and Sirius couldn’t say no to. At the moment, that was enough for Regulus.

Now, however, things were different. Regulus had fallen in love with you. After a completely “innocent” kiss at 15, he was hooked. There would be hope in Regulus ever wanting to stay away. He couldn’t…not even if he tried.

The following years were full of Regulus keeping you away from any member of his family. No matter how many times you told him that you were ready to officially meet them and rip the “bandage” off, Regulus always said no.

“Reggie, I hate to break it to you but no one will be dropping dead of any heart attacks. Besides, your mother should expect something. We are always together. One would think that with as smart as she “claims to be”, she would have figured out that we have been together since 5th year. Like it or not, she will just have to get over it.”

“I hate knowing that I am taking you into that lion’s den.”

Leaning forward, you placed a soft kiss on Regulus’ lips. You hoped that some kind of physical contact would calm down his raging mind.

“Regulus, I want you to hear me. It will take a lot more than your family to scare me off. I knew what I was getting into when I said, I do. I know your parents aren’t like my parents. They will just have to accept that we are in love. If they can’t…then that is on them. That won’t be our problem.”

“But we have two things that will be their problem.”

Regulus commented as his grey eyes flickered to the corner of the room where your twin daughters sat playing. Both girls were not the least bit interested in the conversation that their parents were having. You looked at your daughters sympathetically before turning back to Regulus. He didn’t have to say it for you to know this was the other source of his panic.

“Maybe knowledge that they are suddenly grandparents will take them out.”

You suggested with a smile. Regulus couldn’t help but smile as you got off of his lap.

“I have to keep them safe from mum and dad. I don’t want them pushing their ideals on Matilda and Rose.”

Both girls looked up and gave Regulus matching little smirks before going back to their toys.

“Regulus, I have known you for a long time. I know that you won’t let them hurt the girls.”

Regulus was quiet a moment as he watched Matilda and Rose play. He coudln’t help but wonder why his own father wanted absolutely nothing to do with him until he had gotten older. Regulus wanted nothing more than to be a part of whatever it was his daughters were doing.

“What if being around them makes me act like…him?”

Regulus questioned. You moved to stand beside your husband. Reaching down, you wrapped your hand around his and squeezed gently.

“The fact that you are even worrying about it tells me that won’t happen. If it were your father, he would never even have that thought. He would just be uncaring and believe that children are to be seen and not heard.”

Before Regulus could comment, the doorbell rang.

“That will be your brother.”

Both twins' heads popped up as they stood up to toddle out of the room shrieking Sirius’ name.

You moved to walk out of the bedroom to answer the door but stopped to look back at Regulus.

“I mean it, love, you are nothing like your father and you won’t become him. Now let's get this exciting evening over so we can have something to laugh about later.”

Walking downstairs, you smiled seeing Sirius holding both Matilda and Rose. Both twins were trying to look through his shirt pocket for the lollipops that he always brought them.

“Mine!”

Matilda shrieked before taking the lollipop out of Rose’s hand. This resulted in Rose screaming “mine” right back at her sister. Sirius looked between both toddlers and sat them down. He handed each girl a lollipop before shaking his head.

“You both get one. No need for the yelling.”

“Thank you”

Matilda muttered before going to sit down at the little table in the corner. Rose patted Sirius’ leg and went to join her sister as Sirius started trying to wipe some sticky substance off of his face.

“I don’t want to know what that is.”

He commented as you handed him a wet cloth. Chuckling Sirius cleaned the gooey spot off before giving you a smirk.

“I never thought in a million years that my neat-as-a-pin brother would be open to being a father. I thought he would barf the moment that a kid drooled on him. So…are you two really going to subject yourself to a delightful dinner from hell with Norma and Norman Bates?”

You nodded.

“Its best we get this over with. The quicker we totally rock their words the faster it will be over>”

Sirius winced.

“I don’t think it will be that easy, love. So, how is Regulus handling it?”

“Like I’m about to fall through thin ice on a pond.”

Regulus commented as he walked into the room pulling on his suit jacket. Sirius turned to face his brother and gave him a sympathetic expression.

“Maybe she will have a heart attack? I mean telling her that you married Y/n and that you have kids will be a huge shock. What if she just kills over at the dinner table? Are you just going to leave her or will you call for help? Reg, what if dad kills over too? Wouldn’t that be great?!”

Regulus only wished that he could have Sirius’ level of enthusiasm at the moment.

“I’m not that lucky, Sirius. Look, the twins go to bed at 8. Try not to hype them up on sugar this time. The last time we didn’t get them to sleep until after 11.”

Sirius gave Regulus a cold scowl.

“Look last time, they asked for ice cream. Try saying no to those little faces.”

As if on command both Matilda and Rose gave Regulus their signature “I’m cute” face.

“Love you daddy.”

Matilda muttered. Rose nodded eagerly but didn’t give up a moment with her candy. Regulus shook his head.

“Love you too, princess.”

He turned back to Sirius discreetly giving him the middle finger.

“And you’re teaching them to suck up knowing very well that I can’ say no to them.”

Sirius chuckled to himself before moving to sit on the couch.

“Well, you’ll be okay.”

Glazing down at your watch, you turned to Regulus.

“We better get going if we want to make our appearance as planned.”

Regulus groaned.

“Damn.”

The two of you moved to kiss your daughters goodbye. Sirius gave you both a final look.

“If you need me, I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

“I’ll remember that. You should pray that I don’t kill her.”

Regulus replied before following you out the door.

A moment later, you stood beside Regulus outside of Grimmauld Place. Neither of you moved to knock on the door. After a moment, you turned to look at Regulus. His handsome features were set into a hard scowl.

“Reggie, remember what I said. You aren’t your father and are nothing like your family.”

Regulus nodded. Hearing those words come from your mouth always seemed to make him feel better. Right now, it was especially helpful because he felt as if he was throwing his family into the lion's den.

“We should get this over with.”

Regulus commented before knocking on the door.

A moment later, Kreacher opened the door. The elf’s eyes got huge seeing the one person that he loved most in the world.

“Master Regulus, you finally came home. Kreacher is delighted to see you.”

Kreacher turned his attention to you and frowned. He knew exactly who you were after hearing Walburga fuss about you for many hours. Regulus had followed Kreacher’s gaze and took a breath.

“Kreacher, this is my Y/n. I want you to treat her with respect.”

The elf didn’t look thrilled by the comment. He held back the vile comment that he wanted to make about the Potters being blood traitors. If there was one thing that Kreacher wouldn’t do, it was upset Regulus.

“Yes, Master Regulus. Please follow Kreacher. Dinner has just been served.”

Regulus tightened his hold on your hand as the two of you stepped into the house.

You had never been inside Grimmauld Place before. After stepping in the door it was as dark and gloomy as you expected. Nothing about this place screamed warm and welcoming.

“This makes me love my family all the more.”

You thought as you followed Regulus and Kreacher down the dark and gloomy hallway. At least, with your family, the home was always warm and welcoming. No one had to worry about being hexed over the dinner table.

Your thoughts stopped the moment that you stepped into the dining room. Just as you expected, the room grew silent. Multiple sets of cold eyes were initially upon you. You squeezed Regulus’ hand as Walburga stood up looking furious.

“Regulus, why is that girl here?”

Regulus took a breath. He didn’t expect much of a greeting from his mother.

“Hello, mother.”

He glanced to where his father sat. Orion was watching him with a hawk-like expression while his grandmother and grandfather took sips of their wine. Cygnus and Druella both were giving each other hesitant expressions as if to say “here we go.”

“I asked you a question, Regulus. It's been three years since we have seen you and you come home with this girl.”

Regulus swallowed, suddenly remembering just who the hell he was. If his mother wanted to play hardball then so could he.

“Yes, Mother it has been three years. Furthermore, this girl has a name, and its Y/n. I expect respect for my wife.”

Both Walburga and Orion went pale. Cygnus and Druella’s mouths dropped while Arcturus and Melania tilted their heads.

“Silly of me, but did you say wife?”

Walburga finally choked out.

“Yeah, he said wife. My name is Y/n. Just so you know, Walburga, I match people’s energy. You be nice to me and I’ll be nice to you. If you want to start shit, you better be ready to dance. That goes for all of you lovely people. Now, we are here in goodwill. We aren’t here for this to turn into some muggle soap opera-level crap.”

You watched as Walburga quickly began to stutter. She clearly did not expect that to come out of your mouth. Orion, meanwhile, was looking at you with a look of amazement.

“You wanted to see us. We are here but play your cards carefully. Remember that I’m the heir to this family.”

Regulus added in a calm even tone. Walburga continued to blink before turning to Orion. Orion gave his wife a cold glare before turning back to his son.

“I see that you couldn’t be bothered to tell us about any of this.”

Regulus smirked.

“Sorry, Father but we have been rather busy in France. There is more you should know. We have twin daughters. If you have any interest in seeing them, the lot of you will agree to my terms.”

Walburga sank back in her chair before grabbing Orion’s arm.

“They have children. Oh heaven help me, they have children.”

Orion didn’t say anything immediately as he glanced at his wife. He knew Walburga would kill him later but he had a feeling that she would do exactly as her son asked. In private, Walburga had been a wreck since Regulus moved away. There had been multiple times that she had shed tears over the subject. Of course, Orion would never tell Regulus this.

“Yes, we have children.”

You replied. Melania turned to her grandson with a gentle expression. Regulus had always been her favorite. Now seeing him as a husband and father made her extremely pleased. While she still could see the darling little boy that Regulus was, it was clearly time to see him as the man that he had become.

“You didn’t bring them with you, Regulus.”

Regulus’ cold expression softened as he addressed his grandmother.

“No, grandmother. I didn’t with reason. Our family has a talent for losing our tempers and acting out of places of anger. My daughters don’t need to be exposed to that. Before any of you lay eyes upon them, you’ll listen to what I have to say and agree to my terms.”

Orion leaned back in his chair with a scowl.

“We’re listening.”

___

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homochadensistm · 4 months

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Beautiful lesbian wife, I am but an ignorant American wading through the online Dead Sea of Disinformation and Confusing Acronyms. I understand roughly the situation re: Hamas and Gaza, but I don't understand why Israel (or maybe just Likud?) was, prior to Oct. 7, focused more on violence in the West Bank than Gaza. Why would the West Bank be more dangerous? Was it the PNA or the PLO that was the problem? Between the extremist nationalists and extremist religious fundamentalists, aren't the fundamentalists worse hands down, or am I just an American who grew up after 9/11?

.... where *is* the PLO in all of this anyway?

Israel enacts a military occupation on the West Bank (looking from the east), or Judea and Samaria (looking from the past), which is why military presence is always pretty high over there. But, over the past 2yrs iirc military presence in J&S has been especially high, as part of the current govts (or rly any coalition in our hyper election-ridden past, but especially the current coalition) philosophy on settlements - because we live in Clown World where our coalition is made up of corrupt autocrats engaging in incest with batshit insane, genocidal race supremacists (Smut-rich, Bengvir, all the fun ppl), their efforts in expanding the settlement projects of J&S are to be admired, and these efforts require the constant presence of armed forces in the area to protect said settlement projects and settlers.

Aside from the increase in settlement plans and outright land theft sponsored by Big Ultra Security Specialist Government(TM), J&S has terror hotspots like Jenin and Nablus, housing groups such as The Lions Den (rest in piss), Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ) and, ofc, Hamas. Contrary to what the blue haired girlies like to post on here, Hamas is (and always was) alive and well in J&S. Theyd even win an election there if Abbas (Fatah, think PLO) ever decided he wants to commit both political and literal involuntary suicide.

In general, Hamas' greatest accomplishment was fooling the state that it seeks normalization: from reprimanding the PIJ for firing rockets, to signing more work agreements with Israel (i.e., allowing more Gazans to come work in Israel) Hamas has successfully convinced the state that it doesnt pose any immediate threat and diverted attention from itself in Gaza towards its sister-wives in J&S. J&S also offers an extra layer of danger because Israelis and Palestinians live very, very close to each other, and while some of them get along fine, a lot dont, and routinely harass each other whether by burning each others fields, grenade-bombing each others towns or just doing good ol lynchings, all of which again, requires military presence to protect both parties (but mostly the settlers because the soldiers who are doing the 'protecting' frequently come from said settler communities).

All in all, J&S is practically the wild west peppered with unhealthy amounts of religious extremism and spicy nationalism. It also doesnt help that J&S is basically on top of a giant hill overlooking the entirety of central Israel. If rockets were to be fired from over there.....nowhere would be safe, and theyd definitely be able to aim a whole lot better at our cities.

#israel #palestine #its a mistake to blame the Likkud for everything #this aint merica with its boring 2 party system theres like 50 parties at play #and the Likkud died years ago now its BB party & friends

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 1 year

Text

A Mouse in a Lion’s Den Pt.1

Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: childhood trauma, emotional/psychological abuse

Words: 3816

Summary: A little mouse surrounded by ferocious lions? It didn't look to be a good situation, even if those lions happened to be your family.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

Book One of Heir of Ash and Fire

Book Two of Heir of Ash and Fire

This was one of my first really big fanfics that I posted on my original tumblr.

Posting it here again for shits and tickles

You could never compare to your older sister Cersei. She was like the sun, bright and beautiful with her mass of gold curls and seemed to possess the world in her hands. She was outgoing and fearless, what every Lannister should be; while you were shy and quiet. The very opposite which was why your father Lord Tywin Lannister didn’t invest too much in you, preferring his enigmatic eldest daughter. Cersei teased you about how meek you were and that you weren’t a lion at all, that you were instead a mouse. There was no fighting against her, she was bigger and louder than you were. Your mother and Jaime were the only ones to stop her cruelty when they saw you were near tears. Cersei would leave in a huff while your mother was left to take care of the damage. Joanna would clean your face with her sleeve and smile sweetly at you. She would say how much she loved her sweet cub and would go on to tell you that you should never change the way you were. You were kind with a gentle heart; Joanna said that was all that was important. She loved each one of her children equally but always had a soft spot for you. You weren’t made of the tough material that seemed to be the Lannister trait. She loved that most about you. Cersei may be like the sun but you were like a candle flame; beautiful in its own way as it illuminates the dark.

Even with your mother’s love you felt lonely though. Jaime more often than not preferred the company of his twin. They would always have that unbreakable bond that only twins could have. You would ask your mom why you hadn’t been born a twin. She would laugh and tell you it wasn’t in the gods’ plans. You wondered what the gods had in store for you.

You may not have been very talkative but you did listen and observe others. Especially your family. You heard your mother and father talking about how she wanted to separate Jaime and Cersei. That they were too close. The very next day Jaime’s chambers were moved to the other side of the castle. You asked your mom but she merely shook her head and changed the subject.

You soon forgot about it as children often did and went on about your young life. Your mother became pregnant again and you were overjoyed to know that you would have a little sibling. Since your mother was great with child she had been confined to her room to rest.

Cersei, uncharacteristically, asked you to play with her and Jaime. That should have been enough of a warning for you that something was up. She never asked you to play with them. She was possessive of her twin brother, even when it involved her own sister.

How could you have known at that age what was to come?

In your childlike innocence you followed them into the bowels of Casterly Rock. You were so desperate for companionship that you would follow them anywhere. They held your hand, possibly to prevent you from running away, when you saw cages filled with lions.

Growing apprehensive at the sight of the caged beasts Cersei explained to you the game her and Jaime always played. Each would see how close they could get to the lions, like a dare. As the twins climbed on to the cages you stayed rooted where you were, scared of even taking a step forward.

Cersei laughed at you, calling you a coward and a mouse. Jaime on the other hand gave you words of encouragement. Somehow you managed to clamber up on top of the cage. You thought the worst was over until Cersei dared you to touch one of them. She tried to comfort you saying that they were chained to the bars and wouldn’t be able to get you.

You learned the hard way not to trust Cersei.

She had opened the cage and pushed you inside; hastily shutting the gate as you cried.

You jolt awake, panting and looking around your dark room.

That had been three years ago yet it was branded deeply into your fragile mind. You had been six at the time, only a year younger than your siblings. It was enough to permanently traumatize you. If it hadn’t been for Jaime’s change of heart you didn’t know what would’ve happened to you.

You wiggle out of your bed, far too big for a nine year old and open the door of your room.

“Little lady, what’re you doing up?” A guard passing by kneels down to look at you.

“I had a nightmare. I wanted to go see my brother.”

The guard smiles gently. “Then I shall escort you, my lady.” Once he made sure you were safely at your brother’s door the guard bids you goodnight.

Quietly you walk inside to peer over the crib. You smile softly at your baby brother Tyrion. He was so tiny with such a large head, you were always surprised that his neck didn’t snap from the weight.

Gingerly you caress his round cheek with your index finger. Your mother had died giving birth to him. This spurred hatred from your father and sister. Of course it had devastated you too but you still loved your baby brother with all your heart. It wasn’t his fault. He was just a baby. People treated him like he was the plague. His wet nurses had always cringed when feeding him and would sooner be done with it than to hold him a minute longer. Tyrion was left sequestered in his room most of the time. You alone kept him company. Everyone was so focused on your older siblings that they forgot about you too. That was alright. You had Tyrion now. And every once in a while Jaime would pay a visit. He didn’t act like everyone else. Jaime loved Tyrion too and treated him like a human being unlike many. Those times you would grow closer to Jaime and he would tell you how Cersei had dressed up like him, fooling everyone. You listened to his stories eagerly even if many did involve Cersei. At least the two of you were bonding. In that room Jaime was your’s. Cersei never bothered to step foot into Tyrion’s nursery unless she was going to torment the helpless three year old.

Grabbing a spare blanket and a cushioned chair you curl up next to your brother’s crib and fall asleep.

“What’re you doing in here young lady?” Your septa glowers down at you with her hand on her hips.

“I had a nightmare last night. I wanted to be with Tyrion.”

She tsks and grabs your arm. “We must get you ready for the day.”

You follow her like the obedient girl you had been raised to e. There was a big event that everyone in Casterly Rock and Lannisport had been preparing for. People were bustling and trying to get things ready for the great tourney in honor of the birth of Prince Viserys Targaryen. You and your family (excluding little Tyrion) would travel to Lannisport just for the occasion as it had been your father’s idea. The best seamstresses in Westeros made you and your sister’s gowns so that you would be at your finest in front of the royal family. While Cersei was ecstatic you were quite nervous. Your father didn’t often parade you around especially not after your mother had died but people asked about the youngest daughter of Tywin Lannister. You would have to force yourself to be like Cersei, although that in itself was a great feat. You didn’t want to disappoint your father though. You would try your best to be like your big sister yet the voice of your mother always came back to you.

“Why would you want to be different (y/n)? You should never change the way you are.”

She was dead though. No one was there to tell you you were fine just the way you were.

Before leaving for the short journey to Lannisport, you give Tyrion a big hug and a kiss as you depart. You prayed that he would be taken care of. You were more of a mother to him than a sister.

You knew you should’ve been happy to go to the tourney with your family, but you couldn’t help constantly worrying about Tyrion. Your attitude got on Cersei’s nerves.

“We would all be better off if something did befall on that little creature.” Cersei mutters as she glances out the window of your litter. She had wanted to ride horseback beside Jaime but she had to ride in the litter as per order of Tywin. Like usual she took her bitter resentment out on you. “Why has he lived this long?”

Gnawing on your lip you bite down so hard you could taste the metallic zing of blood. You wanted to say something, to stand up to her for once in your life. Then you remembered her trapping you in a lion’s cage. Anxiety seized you and render you speechless. You stayed quiet for the duration of the trip until you reached the gates of Lannisport. Leaping out of your litter, happy to finally get away from Cersei, you await for everyone else before bounding to look at all the colorful tents that were being erected in the field. Excitement actually bubbled in your tummy at the prospect of watching the tourney.

You hear Jaime chuckle behind you. “Excited?” At ten years old you knew in a few more years Jaime would be a heartbreaker. His hair shared the same hue as the gold that made up the Lannister’s wealth. Jaime was growing into a handsome young man that looked every inch a knight like in the stories your mom used to tell you. Yet he couldn’t be a knight. He was Tywin’s heir, expected to carry on the Lannister name.

“I actually am! Are you gonna participate Jaime?”

He smiles down at you. “No they probably wouldn’t let me. I’m still too young.” YOU catch his clear green eyes gaze out at the field. You knew he probably wanted to join the older boys to show off his own skill. Even at such a young age Jaime wielded a sword like it was one with his arm. He beat all the other cousins that were around his age and even some of the older ones. One day he would make a great Lord of Casterly Rock.

A gentle hand on your shoulder, he steers you back to the group where your father was already giving orders. Trunks and luggages were being taken down to the field so that your family’s tents could be set up alongside the other noble families. Normally you would’ve taken residence in the castle of Lannisport but your father insisted that the royal family have the castle to himself. You figured that it had something to do with Tywin’s growing dislike for Aerys. From the servant’s gossiping you heard about what King Aerys had said about your poor mother’s passing. It wasn’t something you liked to think about. You didn’t blame your father for wanting to be as far away from the king as possible.

“Come along.” Tywin tells you and your siblings. You took your place between Jaime and Cersei as you had been taught to do. Although your sister didn’t very well like you separating her and Jaime. Either way she didn’t seem too bothered this time. She actually seemed to smile at you. It definitely set off alarm bells. You had learned quickly to mistrust Cersei’s smiles. They held your hands as Tywin had instructed the three of you to do in front of the other lords so that everyone could see how perfect his children were. It was your own little fantasy too. You wished your sister was genuinely sweet and loved you. You wished that you had a big brother who would take your side every so often and protect you.

Your family made their rounds around the camp, greeting other noble families. Cersei gobbled up all the attention, absolutely loving how the lords called her beautiful.

A few commented how you were adorable but you knew that you dimmed in comparison to your older sister.

Finally King Aerys and his eldest son Prince Rhaegar made their appearance. You didn’t see Queen Rhaella among them or the newborn Viserys. The King’s Guard flanked them as well as dozens of retainers and servants to the Dragons of Westeros.

And there in all his glory was seventeen year old Rhaegar Targaryen. The first born son. Heir to the Iron Throne. Long powdery white hair fell off his shoulders and framed a strong, handsome, face that he had to push strands away every so often. Hyacinth eyes like those of the flower looked over your family and he offered up a small smile.

He had stolen your breath. You had always heard Cersei whispering about how handsome the prince was, but you never thought he would be so much so that you’d forget to breathe.

Whatever your father was saying went in one ear and out the other as you and Cersei stared unabashedly at Rhaegar.

At least she had more tact to smile and curtsy while you gaped with wide eyes.

“It is such a pleasure to meet you, your Grace.” She says to the Targaryen rulers, more so to Rhaegar.

It was King Aerys that snapped you out of your stupor. Where Rhaegar made your heart stop, Aerys made it beat with terror. He had the signature violet eyes and silver hair but lacked the beauty that Rhaegar had. Perhaps he once had been handsome but he wasn’t now. He looked half crazed with his long nails and wild eyes that searched for invisible enemies everywhere.

His smile was even worse than his frown and you unconsciously tighten the hand that held Jaime’s. “Thank you for hosting such a grand event, my friend.” Aerys’ words seemed to hold a double edge to them that your father was sure to take note of.

“But of course. The whole of Westeros should celebrate the birth of Prince Viserys.” Your father replied with that tight lipped smirk of his. There was ice in his voice that you picked up on.

They exchanged ingenuine pleasantries as you continued to look for Queen Rhaella and the infant prince. After Tyrion had been born you realized how much you liked babies. Tyrion had fit perfectly in your arms.

On your tippy toes, you whisper to Jaime “Where’s the baby?”

Before Jaime could whisper back to you Rhaegar seemed to have noticed your inquisitive looks and his once stiff smile softens as he addresses you. “Do you like babies (y/n)?” It makes your father and the king turn to look at you.

Uh-oh. You definitely hadn’t meant to draw attention. Blushing you clam up and nod stiffly. “Y-Yes. . . I have a little brother at home. . .”

That makes Aerys chuckle. “Yes. The dwarf.”

Your cheeks blaze as you shift your eyes down to your shoes, biting down on your lip and your ears ringing. You had said too much.

“We’ll be seeing you tomorrow. We still need to settle down and prepare for the tourney.” Tywin clears his throat.

“Of course. We’ll be seeing you.”

When they were out of earshot Cersei dropped your hand. “Why did you have to mention that little beast?”

“I-I didn’t meant to. . .

“Cersei, she was just answering the prince.” Jaime says, still holding onto your hand.

She turns on Jaime. “A simple yes would’ve sufficed! She’s embarrassed us by even bringing up that shame of our family!”

Tywin decides to step in. “That’s enough. I will not have you bickering. Not while we’re here.”

Cersei presses her pouty lips together, her fingers curling into her palm.

Turning his gaze onto you, Tywin simply sighs. “Try not to slip up again, okay?”

You nod. You feel absolutely sick. You want to go home where you didn’t have to talk to anyone. Where you could be with Tyrion and play games with him and tell him stories.

Having seen you trying not to cry, Jaime lets Tywin and Cersei walk ahead while he stays behind with you. “It’s okay (y/n). It was an accident.”

“I want to go home.” You murmur quietly and swallow back your tears.

Sympathy. Jaime was actually treating you sympathetically. He kneels down in front of you. “We will. Sooner than you think. The tourney will go by quickly if you try and have fun. Just think about tomorrow! You’ll see all the knights in action. It’ll be fun.”

He was probably trying to get you to quit your belly aching and not cause too much trouble for your father. Either way you would take it.

You were forced to share a tent with Cersei and her hand maids. They ignored you, choosing to giggle and gossip on their side of the tent. Her companions, Melara Hetherspoon and Jeyne Farman, squeal at Cersei’s description of Prince Rhaegar. Cersei grinned and continue to fawn over the the fair Targaryen prince.

“He’s even more magnificent in person!” Cersei brushes a golden lock of her hair off her shoulder.

“I wish I could’ve met him! But we had to stay behind.” Melara pouts.

Uncomfortable being in the same room as them you leave without either of the girls paying attention to you.

The night sky was clear without any clouds or moon but was littered with thousands of bright, tiny, stars. Laugher was heard all through the camp as everyone drank to the newborn prince and celebrated with merriment.

You weaved between the many tents, not having a particular destination until you heard the most beautiful sound. The rhythmic plucking of strings. It lead away from the camp however. Timidly you look around. No one had noticed you yet. Then again everyone must’ve been drunk. A wandering child was hardly their concern. You nervously followed the music until it grew louder and louder. The pale fingers of Rhaegar Targaryen was the source.

“It seems I have an audience.” That gentle and warm smile he had when he talked to you graced his face.

You would’ve rushed away had he not pat the spot next to him.

“It’s okay. Come and listen.”

If you messed up, if you accidentally said something you weren’t supposed to in front of the future king, your father would skin you alive.

The Silver Prince was inviting you to listen to him play though. It would be rude to decline such an offer.

With trembling legs you sit near him although careful to keep enough distance between the two of you. Rhaegar goes on to play that beautifully crafted silver stringed harp of his. It was a lovely melody that made your chest ache. It was the sound of your loneliness.

You hadn’t been aware that you had been crying until the end of his song when he handed you a handkerchief. You didn’t dare ruin any article that belonged to him and used your sleeve instead. “That’s beautiful. The most beautiful song I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m happy you enjoyed it. You looked so nervous earlier and I apologize if I may have inadvertently caused any trouble for you with your family.”

Rhaegar had noticed. You flush out of horror. If he had noticed how uncomfortable you had been who knows who else had seen. You tried and failed to act like a Lannister.

Quietly you simper in your spot beside him. “It’s alright. . . If it wasn’t this it would have been another thing. . .”

“Would you like to hear another?”

You nod.

He was definitely much more than handsome. Rhaegar was kind and gentle, treating you far better than your family has since your mother died. You found comfort in his company. Comfort you had only found in Joanna and Tyrion. You felt safe in his music.

After a while, Rhaegar sets his harp carefully beside him and looks up at the stars. “Sometimes I wish I could play the harp without any interruptions. No duties. Just be able to play music for eternity.” There was sadness in his tone. A sadness you knew well yourself. It portrayed loneliness. He may be next in line for the Iron Throne but it must’ve been a lonely road ahead for someone like him. You had heard that Rhaegar preferred literature over battle maps and music over the clanging of swords.

“Are you lonely your Grace?” When it slipped out of your mouth you could’ve ripped your tongue out for such insolence. “I’m sorry! I was out of line! Please don’t tell my father!”

“Ssh.” Rhaegar holds his hands up indicating for you to calm down. “It’s alright. You did nothing wrong (y/n).” The brush of his slim fingers on the back of your tiny hand made you jolt. “It’s okay.”

You definitely weren’t a Lannister. Lannisters never apologized. They never lost their composure especially in front of the crowned prince.

Rhaegar’s features are calm with a small smile. “Lonely huh? I suppose I am. Just a little. How did you know? Are you lonely too?”

“You won’t tell my father?”

The corners of his lips turn up. “I promise.”

You take a deep breath. “I’m. . . always by myself at Casterly Rock. Even before my mother died. My older siblings prefer the company of each other and leave me out of a lot of things. Cersei says I’m no Lannister lion. That I’m a mouse. Even my father prefers Jaime and Cersei. I only have Tyrion but he’s only three years old. . .”

“You know, I’ve always preferred mice over lions. They’re much cuter.” Rhaegar delicately smoothes the hair on top of your head in a caressing manner. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“My family thinks differently.” You rub at your irritated eyes that threatened to spill over with tears. “I try to be like Cersei, but I just can’t do it.”

“It’s their loss then.” Rhaegar simply sighs. “They’re missing out on a lovely young lady. You shouldn’t try to be anyone else except yourself. I think that’s what your mother would want.” He gets up with ease and holds out a hand to you. “It’s getting late and there are certain little girls who should be in bed.”

Meekly smiling you take his hand and notice how warm it was.

Once outside of your tent, Rhaegar kneels down to look you in the eyes. “Now don’t forget what I told you, okay?”

You nod and thank him, watching him walk away with his harp in hand.

278 notes · View notes

becauseicantthinkwritings · 2 years

Text

The Agony of Desire

Part 11 // Masterlist

Warnings: 18+, Smut, fingering, p in v sex, mild choking, talks of pregnancy, canon typical themes, drugging, assault, guns.

A/N: Brace for impact...

"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,

And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind."

- William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

It's kind of annoying that good things don't last. Who designed a world like that anyway? Where you could get a taste of something so perfect, so peaceful, and so explosive. The rekindling of a lost love, the burning passion of two years of agony, the desire to stay in a blissful paradise with the one person who ever made you feel... seen.

To have it ripped from your hands without a forethought, taken by the universe with five simple words.

We have to go back.

But you didn't want to. You wanted this, here, with him and the quiet moments in between careless laughter and the shared breath of lovers before a kiss. And you wanted to grip it tightly and tell the universe to fuck off because Billy Russo was yours and nobody would ever take him away from you again.

And he sees this all written on your face when he gets the words out.

"Hey, hey, hey," he says, finding his way to you as you look down, your throat tight beyond compare, your eyes watering as you try to pretend that you're fine. His hands on your shoulders, "We'll be okay," his voice interjects, "I'll keep you safe, it's just that Kingpin needs something more from me, and then we're done. We'll be back here- or free to be in New York together- wherever you want- it's just one more thing and it'll all be over." He rambles into your ear, and you wrap your arms around him, holding him to you.

You take a deep breath, listening to his heart race in his chest.

"I don't want to lose you. I only just got you back." You sniffle.

"Oh baby," he kisses the top of your head gently, "You're not losing me. Not that easily. You told me no several times and I still kidnapped you anyway."

That makes you laugh, which makes him laugh.

"When you say it like that, it makes you sound like a villain." You say in between breaths.

"I am a villain. I'm a really bad man." He confirms with a nod and you shake your head in disbelief.

Your stomach picks that moment to make a loud gurgling sound and your mouth drops open.

"Oh my god did you hear that-?"

"-I know right, what the fuck is living inside of you?" He says with mock horror in his face and you laugh, pulling him back into a hug that he returns easily.

You sway for a moment, before pulling back.

"Come, let's talk strategy over dinner." You say decidedly, pulling him toward the kitchen.

You're staring at his sleeping form, from your seat opposite him.

He always looks so young when he sleeps, appearing so innocent about the ways of the world, and you acknowledge that it must be his eyes that give him his age. The look in them, the weariness, the distrust, the way you can see him analysing things as they happen. It's what makes him look close to the age he always claims to be. Now though, he could pass for at least a decade younger. Billy's got eyes that have seen so much, and you just wished for one moment you could ease his burdens.

He'd explained to you last night, that some of the money hadn't gone through, that Fisk was demanding the remaining twenty million and would restart his pursuit of your family if he was not compensated. It was one thing to be hunted by the Meachums, but you would most likely never survive if they managed to put their differences aside long enough to pursue you.

It made you nervous. To be going back into the lion's den no matter how reassuring Billy was, that everything would be okay.

How could he know something like that? How was he so sure, that the minute you two landed in New York, that both groups wouldn't descend on you both and take it all away? Take what you'd just been given...

You unbuckle your seatbelt, standing, and smoothing out your black dress for a moment. Billy peeks an eye open sleepily, looking up at you as you take the few steps to him.

"Are you okay?" He asks, his voice laced with heavy sleep, undoing his seatbelt and opening his arms for you to climb into his lap. You accept the invitation, straddling his body easily, burying your head in his chest, listening for a quiet moment to his heart, feeling fear and anxiety rise in your throat, and letting the soft scent of him calm you.

"I'm okay." You say after a little bit, "Just scared."

His arms encircle you, a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

"It's easy, in and out, nothing to be afraid of."

He'd said the same thing last night, but fear, held no care for rationality. Fear's only job, was to remind you of everything you could lose.

You grip his sweater, taking a deep breath, contemplating whether to tell him what you'd almost spilled yesterday- that you loved him, beyond words, beyond reason, maybe even beyond fear.

And yet, you still couldn't figure out if you could forgive him for the last two years.

It was... strange.

To love someone so deeply and still be burdened by the weight of their actions.

Maybe that was love. Imperfect, flawed, cracked, but so blissfully warm at the same time.

The Japanese art form, Kintsugi comes to mind next, and you wonder if that was something possible for you and Billy. An object, made more beautiful after being broken.

It's what lulls you to sleep.

The comfort of broken things, and the hopes that you have the chance to put them back together.

You wake a little later when the plane shakes, you stiffen in fright and his hand is immediately on the back of your head.

"Just turbulence baby, you're okay." He soothes.

You make a little hum, crawling off his lap to give a big stretch.

He watches you carefully, and you turn to look at him in question.

"What are you doing?" You ask, wondering why he's just staring at you.

"Nothing, just... remembering." He says, giving you a sly smile.

"Creep." You say, with mock malice in your tone.

"Careful," he warns, "You'll get me hard if you keep talking like that."

You almost choke on your spit with the speed you inhale at. Holy fuck what gave him the right?

You grin when a comeback flies right into your head.

"I bet it doesn't take much to get you hard, Russo." You tease, reaching under your dress to tug your panties down your legs. You watch the muscle in his jaw pop as he clenches his teeth together, never breaking eye contact with you as you free your panties and ball them into your fist.

"I bet it just takes the right move at the right time and that big cock is all swollen and leaky, hmm?" You tease, tossing your panties at him. The soft material hits his chest.

He doesn't say a word, looking at you with amusement as you silently dare him to say something.

He takes a deep breath, tilting his head to study you a little, before he extends a hand to give two swift pats to this thigh.

Holy shit that did not just make you tingle.

"Do you want something, Russo?" You ask evenly, and his smile deepens.

Shit. He had that quiet dominance about him that made you want to get on your knees and have him fist your hair in his large hand-

Christ almighty, where did your feminism go?

"Come here." He says casually, looking away from you for a moment, as if the clouds could ever be as interesting as the little brat of a girlfriend he had, one that he knew craved a firm hand.

"Bite me." You quip.

"If I have to get up from here," He warns "You're not getting to come."

You lick your lips.

"You're bluffing. You like me too much."

When he stands, your entire body gives you a warning that you were now in danger of being punished.

"I do like you," he acknowledges, "but that's not going to stop me from teaching that bratty cunt some manners."

Oh boy.

You take a step back as he begins to approach you, adrenaline spiking in your system, but in this private jet, there really was nowhere to go.

"Lesson number one, when I say 'come here,' do you know what I expect you to do?"

You keep backing away, knowing that your space to evade him is getting smaller and smaller.

"Do I look like I give a shit?" You ask, looking back to see how much space you have left.

It's all the distraction he needs to grab you. You gasp as he pins your lower half against a seat, you wriggle your body, but can't seem to get any leverage to push him away.

"I expect you, to bring that needy little cunt to me." He says lowly, as if you haven't spoken.

"Who said I was needy?" You gasp out, between small grunts as you struggle to get away from him.

His warm hand is sliding between your thighs in the next second.

"Oh please," he says, doubling down on you, using his body to stop any hint of struggle, "We both know how hot and wet this cunt gets for me."

Your mouth drops open when his middle finger slides over your clit. You bite down on your bottom lip, going still.

"There she is," he hums in appreciation, "Just ready for me, hmm?" His finger circles your clit slowly, you feel your thighs relax involuntarily, opening up for him to take what he wants. Your head is turned to the side, avoiding his stern, but deliciously warm gaze to listen to his sultry voice.

"Say my name, baby. Tell me whose cunt this is."

You can't deny him here. Not when you're in the air flying back to your ex-fiance, you wouldn't give him any doubts about this.

"Yours, Billy." You say so softly, still avoiding his gaze.

You're rewarded with firmer circles to your clit. You hiss, tilting your head up to expose your neck to him reflexively.

You were made to be taken. And he was made to take.

"The things I want to do to you, baby, the ways I want to ruin you would probably get me arrested in some countries."

Your mind fills with all the terrible possibilities. A small moan slips from your mouth.

"You want that too, don't you? You want to give me what I want?"

You nod your head, sighing as his finger on your clit pauses for a moment, only to push into you a second later.

You gasp as his thick finger breaches your entrance, filling you and pressing right against your g-spot. You go rigid, gasping as the pleasure builds inside you, teetering on an edge that doesn't come because he then holds his hand still.

You let out a low whine and he chuckles in response, your noses bumping affectionately as if he isn't a finger deep inside you.

He makes a small movement, something of a 'come-hither' with his finger, that creates a tapping motion on that spot inside you.

Pleasure blooms from your cunt all the way up your spine, exploding in your brain, before his finger stops moving.

Your eyebrows are scrunched together, mouth parted as he torments that sweet spot deep inside you.

"Why?" He asks, as if you can remember what was being said.

"What?" You question, out of breath, as he makes a few pumps of his finger into you. You gasp, tightening your walls around his finger in a silent plea not to stop.

"Why do you want to give me what I want?"

You shiver as his thumb begins slow circles into your clit, your knees wobble.

"Because..." you trail off.

"Because?"

He stops all movement and your frustration peaks.

"Because I'm yours." You say under your breath, finally looking into his dark eyes.

Is that what he wanted to hear?

His mouth stretches into a predatory smile.

Suddenly, his finger withdraws from you. You gasp, desperate to keep him close, but your hands are unable to grab him before he's pulling away from you.

"Good. Don't forget it." He says, his back is to you as he heads back to his seat.

Oh this asshole...

The fasten seatbelt sign pings on and you huff in frustration.

You make your way back to your seat angrily, sitting down and fastening your seat belt, glaring at him the whole time.

He sits too, fastens his seatbelt, but not before giving you a good show of sucking your arousal off his finger.

Which only throws you back into the memories of his tongue, and how much he genuinely loves tasting you.

You couldn't even fathom how that was possible. How his head between your thighs, his tongue working you over could give him so much pleasure, when Ward before wouldn't even-

You suck in a breath, heart squeezing as you look at him. Really look at him.

He looks at you too, from his spot opposite, and you're not even touching, but you've never felt this connected to him. It feels like he's in your head, like you're in his, like you know everything he feels from one look at him.

Billy Russo is a part of you now, he's in your bones, running deep in your veins, and he always will be.

And from the burning look in his eyes, he feels the same way about you.

Your face is pressed to the bed, a little bit of drool slipping past the edge of your lips and soaking into the soft sheets as he ruts into you from behind.

There's a couple of pillows under your hips, propping your boneless body up, presenting your body for his railing.

Your eyes roll back in your head, an unintelligent sound floating past your lips and you hear him chuckle above you between forceful thrusts.

"Do you like that, baby? Does it feel good?" He asks, and you can only make another dumb sound in response.

'Feel good' was an understatement. It was more than that. If your pleasure was the big bang, he was at its center. He was the source, the fuel, the reason. All emphasised by each rough motion of his cock.

"So perfect for me, baby. So fucking perfect." He gasps, his brain short-circuiting with the abundance of pleasure.

You clench fistfuls of the sheets between your fingers, your pussy tightening around his cock, warning him that you're going to come. He grunts, hips slapping against yours loudly, his hands smoothing over your skin, scraping at the curve of your back and ass with his blunt nails.

Open and pliant below him, you whine as you're brought right to the edge.

"Gonna come so hard, hope you taste it." He grunts out, and you let out another whine, so close... so close...

But he pulls out of you at the very last second and you whine in distress. He flips you over forcefully, the pillows still haphazardly beneath you, raising your hips so that he can reenter you easily.

You gasp his name, pulling the wild strands of your hair away from your face. His hands are firm on your hips, squeezing so tightly, you think it may bruise.

"All mine. Isn't that right?" He asks.

"Mmhmmm." Is all the noise you can make.

"Only me?"

"Yes Sir." You murmur.

He pushes one of your legs up, you gasp as you feel him go deeper, a droplet of sweat trickles from his forehead, down his nose and lands on your hip. You've been going at this for a while, and you know you're going to be so sore tomorrow.

Your back arches, you were on edge again. Shallow breaths and desperate sighs and the gasp of his name and the clenching of your core and he stops again and you swear you're going to murder him.

"Stop. Fucking. Edging. Me." You gasp out angrily between breaths, and you hiss when his hand wraps around your throat tightly.

"Lose the fucking attitude, baby. You're mine and I can do what I want." He grits out.

He pulls the pillows from below you, so that you're flat on the bed, it makes a good position to cover the entirety of your body with his and then he's back inside you again.

Your ankles lock behind him as he delivers swift thrusts, one hand cups the back of your neck to pull your mouth to his.

You bury your fingernails into his back and he groans into your mouth. You want to leave evidence on his skin that you were here, below him, taking his cock inside you.

He breaks the sloppy kiss to catch a breath, but you barely let him, before you're pulling his mouth back to yours in a heated frenzy.

There it is again. You whine as you get close, your body tightening around his, begging him not to stop.

He takes the message this time, speeding up. Your teeth sink into his bottom lip, your nails grip and scratch along his skin. His cock fucking you open faster and faster until an explosion goes off in your head.

Your scream is silent. Voice too gone to make an actual sound, your body squeezes down on his cock firmly.

He grunts at the feeling, your cunt fluttering around his cock so blissfully he has to squeeze his eyes shut to stop himself from exploding.

It doesn't work, because in the next second you adjust your head to bite down on his shoulder- and the explosion goes off inside him any way.

He fills you right up, all the way to the brim- you can both feel it. The way his spend slips out of your pussy while he's still deep inside you. Billy knows it's the hardest he's ever cum in a while.

And it's all for you.

You both pant, your skin uncomfortably hot, but unwilling to detatch your body from his. His nose brushes yours, the shared breath between you is hot as well, sweltering and likely to become uncomfortable soon.

'I love you,' you say with your eyes, and he smiles, kissing the tip of your nose in a gesture that lets you know that he loves you too.

Finally, he slips out of you, and you get your first breath of Billy-less air, and you sigh when you feel his come begin to dribble out.

You blink suddenly, realising that it's been a week since you took your last pill. You let out a shuddering breath, remembering that the last few days have just been you, being filled with his come over and over again.

"You okay?" He asks, noticing that you've been holding your breath for a little.

Your eyes flit to his concerned ones.

"Yeah...I'm okay." You answer quickly, pretending that you're not in a state of panic. Damn, when was your last period? What if you were-

"Want a bath?" He offers, and you turn to look at him. He links your fingers into his large ones, pulling them to his face to kiss the tips.

Would it be so bad?

"Yes please," you say softly, "A bath would be amazing."

He's careful. Like he always is, gentle to your body after thoroughly sating it. You lean against him, head tilted back on his chest, half asleep in the warm bath. The water makes gentle swiping sounds as he moves, raising his hand to gently trickle warm water over your neck and collabones.

"Billy," you whisper, the thoughts in your head going too wild for you to keep it in, he hums in question.

"We've never spoken about it... but... do you ever want kids?"

He pauses for a long moment. You squeeze your eyes shut, the silence is honey thick and you struggle to breathe while waiting for the answer.

"I've... never thought I could have something like that." He lets out a little laugh, "Hell, I'm probably the last person on earth that deserves that kind of life, and I definitely shouldn't be in charge of a kid, with a head as fucked as mine."

You listen intently, relating to his fears as best as possible.

"I'm not gonna tell you what you are, and what you aren't." You say, turning your head to speak against his neck, "But I know you're a fast learner, and if you wanted something, I don't see why you wouldn't be able to learn." You smile, kissing his neck, "As for deserving, there are worse people out there with families of their own. Don't judge yourself too harshly."

He makes a low hum, one that implies that he doesn't believe you, but he's not dismissing your words either.

"What about you? Do you want kids?" He asks, lips brushing your temple.

Another long moment as you think about your answer.

"It's....scary... not a simple yes or no, I'm terrified of both- having and not having." You reach to link your fingers into his, he squeezes tightly for a moment, "But it's just a little less scary with you."

The corner of his lip rises.

"I can confess one thing though," he murmurs lightly, dropping his hands to grip your hips, you gasp as his fingers press into your sore spots,

"The idea of getting you pregnant, makes me so fucking happy, I just want to fill you up all day long."

You laugh.

"You're insatiable." You comment, with a shake of your head.

"You have me this way, baby." He replies easily.

When you're almost asleep, face pressed into his chest, legs tangled together, he repeats the plan to you.

He's not going to be here when you wake, getting an early start on gathering the money he needs and assessing the meeting point for possible traps. There's a security team monitoring the hotel, so you'll be safe as long as you don't leave unnecessarily. Later tomorrow evening, he'll meet Fisk, and hand off the remaining money and he'll be back before you know it.

He kisses the top of your head and in your sleepy state, you hum something that sounds very similar to 'I love you.'

It makes Billy's heart skip a beat.

When you wake at around midday, he's gone as expected.

You stay in the hotel room all day, watching TV and catching up on random news, finding out what you'd missed in the little time you'd been gone.

Around six in the evening, the phone in the room rings, and you click the TV off before reaching for the receiver.

"Hello?" You answer, your heart pounding, unsure of who it might me.

It's the receptionist at the front desk who greets you on the other end.

"There's a Mr. Meachum here, requesting to speak with you." She says casually, as if you don't go rigid.

"Which Meachum?" You ask cautiously.

Ward, she tells you. Ward has found you and is waiting downstairs to speak to you.

Your heart hurts a little, remembering that the last time you were supposed to see him, you left him at the altar instead.

"Can you tell him to wait for me in the restaurant? I'll be down in ten."

She relays the message to him and confirms his acceptance to you.

You hang up, your stomach twisting into knots, the anxiety of facing him again is so strong, the worry of how you've hurt him is visceral, it makes you want to hide.

But you knew you had to face him, you knew that you had to go down there and look him in the eye and apologise for the embarrassment you caused him.

So you stand from the bed, determined to make it up to him in some way.

The elevator opens up to the restaurant on the top floor, a beautiful modern design with large windows to see the sun setting on the city.

Your heart pounds, smiling at the waitress and giving her your information.

You spot Ward, sitting alone at a table for two, sipping on a drink.

He stands when he sees you approaching.

He takes you into a hug when you get close enough, and you allow it, though it's not your favourite feeling.

"I'm so glad to see you're okay." He says, as his arms tighten around you, and you smile.

"I'm glad you're okay too."

You smile at him when you pull away.

"I hope it's alright that I ordered a drink for you," he says, pointing at the fruity drink on your side of the table.

You not at him in appreciation, sliding into your seat, and taking a small sip of the concoction. It's something slightly sour, and you appreciate the flavours.

He takes his seat as well.

There's a moment of silence.

"When you didn't-"

"I'm so sorry that I-"

A pause, filled with shared smiles.

He nods his head, silently indicating for you to speak first.

"I really meant to show up. It- It wasn't my intention to leave you there. I'm sorry if I hurt you in anyway, or made you look... bad, but, in the end, marrying you- it- well- I-" You give him a sad smile, trying to find the words, "I realised it wasn't something that I wanted. I'm sorry for that."

His face is stoic, all harsh lines and even breaths. He nods, sweeping a hand through his hair.

"When you didn't show up at the church, I knew something went wrong. But I was hoping, that it was just jitters, I waited there for hours. And then I found out that you'd disappeared. I spent the last week combing the world for you, hoping you didn't leave me there without a word."

You take another long sip of your drink before speaking.

"I- well- Billy paid my debt and got me out. But it's a good thing too, because- Harold- he tried to have my parents killed."

"That's not true." Ward immediately says, and you look up into his eyes.

You can see it now, something around the edges, something about his appearance is... off. He isn't as put together as he'd like to seem, and you feel like he's a spool about to be unravelled.

Too bad you didn't owe him a single thing.

"I trust Billy with my life." You say firmly, "He told me that Harold tried to kill my parents. They would have died if Billy hadn't gotten them out."

He grips the edges of the table, leaning closer.

"And you believe him? My father was about to pay off your family's entire debt- and you believe some low-level scum like Billy Russo?"

"Ward." You say his name in warning, letting him know you don't appreciate his words or his tone.

He blinks, catching himself, realising that his words have rubbed you the wrong way.

"I'm sorry," he breathes, "But, Russo has always had his own interests first. He lied to you, he told you he paid off the debt, and he didn't, he told you that my father tried to harm your family, and that was a lie too."

You bite down on the corner of your lip, deep in thought.

"What does he have to gain from lying?" You ask Ward quietly, afraid of the answer. You lean back, taking another casual sip as if his words will have no effect on you.

"You might not realise it, but your family name has a lot of weight. Even though it's been dragged through the mud in the last couple of years, a combination of our families opens a lot of doors."

You swallow.

"A combination of our families? By that, you mean that fancy clause in our contract to have me pregnant within the year?"

He blinks, "Y/N-"

"-No." You say, "No, I'm sorry Ward, but I think I've heard enough." Your drink hits the table with a quiet sound, "Billy might not be honest with me, but at least I know he wants me for me, and not for whoever's last name I'm carrying." You stand from your seat and he stands too.

"I'm sorry, please, wait." He says, taking a step, reaching for you slowly, but you dodge his hold, walking away from him with a muttered 'Goodbye.'

He doesn't follow.

The emotions are a mess in your head and it sticks in your throat, there's a permanent frown on your face as tears spring to your eyes.

You don't understand why, though. You wish someone would take your brain out, map it, and show you exactly why you felt like crying your eyes out.

Maybe they'd circle a spot, "This is where your trust issues come from," point to another spot while saying, "Your low self worth comes from your body image issues, only reinforced by the fact that your family almost sold you to make babies and look pretty for the rest of your life."

You press your face into your hands, letting out a muffled sob.

You no longer knew what to believe, who to trust but at least you were sure of one thing.

Regardless of his motives, regardless of any lie he's told you, Billy loved you. And he would go to the ends of the earth to keep you safe.

You couldn't wait for him to come back to you, so that maybe you could forgive him for the lies he's told, and admonish him for the lies he would tell in the future.

You smile, shaking your head. No, you couldn't settle for being lied to, no matter how strongly you felt for him.

You begin to feel a little sleepy as the elevator doors open, yawning as you begin to make your way to your room. Your vision swims for a second and you frown, wondering why you feel so tired all of a sudden.

Were you drugged?

You sway, the panic setting in, and your first priority is making it back to your room.

You're at your door when someone calls your name. You look up in surprise, hoping that it's Billy- but it's not- it's Ward, making purposeful strides toward you.

"Ward?" You say confused, squinting at him as your body sags against the door.

He grips your shoulders forcefully, and you try to push at him.

"I think I've been drugged." You murmur, looking into his face, pleading for his help.

"You have." He says ominously and you whimper, realising that it's been him all along.

"Why?" You ask, your knees buckling as your body is forced to relax against your will. You feel so sleepy, you fight to keep your eyes open, pushing at him. Why won't he budge? Your fingers reach up to claw at his cheeks but your hands won't cooperate.

"Why?" He says, and you think he finally shows you his unravelling.

"Because I was promised a wife. And I will have one."

It's the last thing you hear before your vision goes dark.

His footsteps echo in the church as he steps in. There are candelabras scattered around the area, he counts them as he counts the pews. He also counts the number of people that are sitting with their heads bowed, praying, and the number of exits.

He sees the back of the marine's head, walking with purposeful steps to him. The marine doesn't look up, doesn't acknowledge his presence, doesn't move as he slides into the seat beside him.

He's sure that the marine has counted the same things he has, made a similar assessment of the safety of the surroundings, maybe even knows the approximate number of steps it would take to get to the back exit if the situation requires it.

"Mister Fisk appreciates your cooperation, and sends his regards for not being here in person." He says.

Billy Russo turns to give him a blank stare.

"I suppose everything can't go the way I want," he says.

James Wesley smiles.

"I suppose not." He responds.

You wake with a groan, your head is swimming, packed with cotton, preventing you from forming a thought.

Where? What? How?

You can't find any answers.

Another deep breath and you open your eyes a little.

Your vision is blurry at first, but you recognise the surroundings of a hotel room, just not your hotel room.

You're lying on the bed, pressed against someone who is petting your hair softly.

You sit up suddenly in shock, swaying as you turn to look at the person. Something else draws your attention at the same time, and you look down to find that your hands have been cuffed together. You tug at them experimentally.

"Just in time," Ward says, sitting up, and you squint at him, trying to figure out exactly where everything went south.

"You drugged me." You say to him accusingly.

"Yes. I did." He acknowledges, sitting up easily.

He's changed into something different, a dark tuxedo with a black bow tie around his neck.

"Do you like it?" He asks, looking down at the suit, "It's the exact same one I was wearing the first time. I tried to get you the same dress, but I got something that was easier for you to get into by yourself.

He stands, and you just look at him, eyes following his movements as he grabs a garment bag lying over the small couch. He unzips the bag, tugging a wedding dress free.

You can't focus on any of the details of the dress- not the beading or the neckline, in your hazy state none of it makes sense to you.

"Put it on." Ward says.

"No." You answer.

"I'm not asking." He tosses the dress beside you on the bed.

"I'm still not putting that on." You struggle to say something witty with such a cloudy head.

He takes a step forward, and you scramble back, slipping off the bed and backing away from him on shaky feet. When you try to get to the door, he intercepts your move- pressing you back against the wall.

"I don't have time for this." He says angrily and you seethe along with him.

"Fuck you." You spit at him.

The slap is sudden. You barely register the sound of it, your head is turned to the side, as your cheek screams in pain.

Did he really just hit you?

"I can't believe I ever defended you." You whisper, unable to meet his eyes.

"Karen once suggested you might hurt me, and I told her you weren't like that."

You raise your hand to touch your stinging cheek, it's tender and hot to the touch.

"You'd be mad too, if you were left at the altar to be laughed at by the entire city."

You swallow, looking up at him, fully awake now with the pain and adrenaline coursing through your system.

"You're delusional." You whisper with conviction.

"And you're not getting it. If you don't put that dress on, then I have no use for you." He leans forward, getting into your space and you grimace with disgust at the feel of his body pressed to yours.

"Do you know what I do with useless things, Y/N? I throw them away."

You wish for his death when your eyes meet his next. He smiles, raising a hand to cup your face, his fingers pressing painfully into the spot where he hit you. You don't make a sound, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of your pain.

"Get dressed." He says, stepping away from you finally.

James Wesley is appraising the contents of the briefcase for authenticity when the church doors open, and several footsteps can be heard.

Billy doesn't look back, he'd anticipated a move like this. And honestly, it might be exactly what he needs to get his plan back into action.

Harold Meachum steps into his peripherals. James closes the briefcase, looking up at said man, knowing James, there's only vague curiosity painted on his features.

"Sorry to interrupt your business, boys, but I have business of my own I'd like to take care of."

Billy is just, downright tired of looking at Harold's face, bored with this man's entire endeavour into making himself more powerful when he can hardly manage the power he currently holds.

"James, would you please call Mr. Fisk and tell him that is audience is requested?"

James doesn't hesitate.

"My apologies, Harold, but Mr. Fisk does not deal-" he pauses his sentence when Harold draws a gun, pointing it at James' head.

There's a moment of tense silence.

"Very well." Wesley says, pulling his cellphone out of his pocket.

Billy listens to half of the conversation, unable to hear any of Fisk's responses. James lets him know that an urgent matter has arisen that requires his presence, and that Harold Meachum will not accept no for an answer.

When James ends the call, he informs that Wilson will be here within the hour.

"Excellent!" Harold says, reaching to take the briefcase seated on James' lap, "That's just enough time to have a wedding in the meantime."

Billy's stomach drops.

It drops even lower when he sees the younger Meachum, Ward, step up to the altar.

"Now, if either of you move from here, the man sitting behind you is going to shoot you in the head."

Billy turns to look at the man. One of Meachum's bodyguards sitting in the pew behind, he's large, maybe even larger than Frank, which means he's probably slower. A mistake on Harold's part to have this man guard him. The other five or six people that were here before are being shuffled into the other room.

He watches a priest, step up slowly to the altar, he raises his hands, and then the doors at the back open with a slow groan.

Billy almost doesn't want to look. He knows what he's going to see. It fills him with murderous rage. He watches Ward's smug face instead, a man that looks like he's already won, as an unwilling bride walks down the aisle toward him.

He knows when he sees you there, the shock, and rage and fear of it all with sear like lightning down his skin.

Billy waits until the very last moment to turn and look at you.

He can't see much of your face, covered by the thick veil, but he can see the tremble of your hands as you hold the bouquet and Billy decides, that he's going to wipe the Meachum line off the face of the earth.

A/N: Heeyyyyyy guyssssssss, how are we doing?

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #the agony of desire #ben barnes #my writings #billy russo x female reader #the punisher

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this-is-a-love-story-isnt-it · 15 days

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Ok, so as I said in my post about that article where Kurtzman basically said that filler episodes should be avoided in Star Trek, I started talking about Farscape in the tags, but it started getting too long, so I want to make a separate post.

I was thinking about "filler" episodes in Farscape, and as I was looking through Farscape episodes, I realized that a lot of Farscape episodes can be considered "filler". I've recently started calling them "stand alone" eps, though. It sounds more accurate. I noticed that most of the time in Farscape, the major plot advances are in the multiple-episode arcs a couple times per season. Like, most of season 1 was what you would call standalone eps. Did it further the plot of "the peacekeepers are after us and John has wormhole knowledge that Scorpius will do anything to get?" mostly no. We see it in Nerve/Hidden Memory, and then at the end of the season in Family Ties. Then in Mind the baby (2x01) they're still inside of the main story arc of dealing with the peacekeepers who are after them and putting Talyn in danger also. Episode 5 is important for a lot of backstory (but also character driven). And then we don't get into any more major movement of the plot until the Look At the Princess trilogy (s2 eps 11-13).

And then the next time the plot gets moved forward is in the Liars, Guns, and Money trilogy (s2 eps 19-21), and then in Die Me, Dichotomy and Season of Death (s2 ep 22 and s3 ep 1).

And then Self-Inflicted Wounds parts 1 and 2 (s3 eps 3-4). Then ep 6 (Eat Me) is critical to the storyline of the rest of the season.

Actually, I'm looking at the season 3 eps, and season 3 is a pretty equal balance between plot advancement and character/relationship development. But especially with the multi-part episodes like the Infinite Possibilities 2-parter, and the Into the Lion's Den 2-parter there's plot advancement.

The season 4 eps 2-3 are major plot episodes. And then no more plot-heavy eps until Unrealized Reality, Kansas, and Terra Firma (eps 11-13). and I guess the rest of the season is actually pretty plot heavy except for ep 14. It doesn't sacrifice the character interaction and development, but the plot is moved forward or is key to the overall arc for the rest of the series after that.

So really, only less than a 3rd of Farscape episodes further the overall story along. Most other episodes are important for character development and world building. Some of them are true stand alones in that there isn't really a lot of character development, either, just kind of like a fun ep (Like Through the Looking Glass or John Quixote).

So idk, it's kind of like there are 3 types of episodes in a lot of shows. I'm thinking of Farscape, Firefly, Fringe, and Star Trek here (like TOS, TNG, VOY, DS9). There are plot heavy episodes that contribute to the overall plot or main story arc, episodes that develop characters either in relation to the plot or just backstories, and then eps that nothing really happens except a fun adventure. With Firefly I actually don't really know if they developed a min storyline yet, except for the whole thing with River. I guess that was supposed to be the main arc? But most episodes were kind of standalone eps. Like adventure of the week kinds of things which allowed for character development and character interactions/relationship development. Fringe had a bunch of "monster of the week" episodes. Some of them gave character backstories or expanded what we know about the characters, but didn't really push the arc forward (or at least you didn't realize it at the time, but like 10 episodes later it turned out to be something significant lol).

But shows like Gilmore Girls... I guess shows like that are character driven most of the time. Most of the story arcs had to do with relationships. And there were arcs like Lorelai and Sookie opening their own inn, and there were a couple episodes that almost fully revolved around that. But it doesn't really have one main storyline or arc. Even sitcoms are like this. the story arcs are usually relationship related and each ep is kind of stand alone.

I'm thinking this main storyline and filler episode thing is unique to scifi shows, actually??? Specifically the "old" ones before they started making shows that only have 6-13 episode seasons.

New Star Trek series like Picard and Discovery are 98% plot and 2% character or relationship stuff. Same with a show I watched recently called Emergence. Character relationships were developed, but every episode contributed to the one storyline. Also currently watching Containment and it's the same way. Both of those shows had 13 episodes.

#farscape #firefly #star trek #fringe #filler episodes

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gayliketheancients · 3 months

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Welcome to the challenge prompt AU

Hello friends, and welcome back to Gay✨ has brainrot for her own fanfic. This post is a welcome to the AU guide where I explain what we’re looking at.

Before I say anything else, a PSA. Fuck JKR. LGBT rights are human rights. How did she write the most queer coded characters and then be like “sorry, only Fumbledore is gay. Love him!” Lol nah.

This au is based loosely off the criteria in this post, where the lovely anonymousqualities called into the Tumblr void for someone to take on their idea. I’ve heard their call, they looked over my outline, and I am posting part one today! Woo! The OG prompt was meant to be plotless, kinda crack fic ish, but I don’t know how to quit when I’m ahead so there will be a good deal of lore-building/lore-fixing from the source material.

Enjoy! ✨

Timeline: Halloween 1981 - Harry’s 8th year

Title ideas (taking suggestions):

The Age of Silver and Gold Alliances (currently the one I like most)

Snake in the lion den, lion in the snake pit

Mirror images, distorted reflections

Ships:

Jegulus, Wolfstar, NobleFlower, RoseKiller, PandaLily, platonic MoonWater, Drarry (in the future), and more!

Things it will be featuring:

Regulus raising Harry

Harry and Draco becoming friends as young children

Regulus being a spy for James - but not the Order, never the Order. Him building a resistance of former death eaters with Narcissa Malfoy’s help.

Harry being a prodigy - and a scary one at that

Lily and James are alive (surprise! Regulus put them in a coma and adopted their son!)

BAMF Minerva McGonagall and BAMF Narcissa Malfoy

Snape gets an actual reception arc instead of dying a trash lord (hello, Uncle Severus)

And so much more!!!

A link to the series ❤️

1-There Is No One Else

Regulus saves Lily, James, and Harry. Minerva saves him. Custody changes, Remus goes ape shit on Dumbledore, and the smallest moments of context.

2-Family Home

Regulus raising Harry from ages 1-4 (ft Grandma Minerva), meeting Miss Cissy and Draco

So many cute moments in this one.

3-We Who Remain When The Price Was Paid

Harry Potter becomes the Master of Death on his 5th birthday. It's like playing where's Waldo, but instead, it's where are Harry's uncles???

Narcissa starts the resistance of exclusively wives of Death Eaters (blood magic pta moms)

Uncle Moony, Uncle Padfoot, Uncle Barty, Uncle Sev

4-Ragtag Little Family

Regulus just wants to hold a family meeting. But you can't hold a family meeting unless you can get the whole family in the same place.

A prison break, wolfstar reunion, wolfsbane potion trials, blood magic pta moms get a name, another prison break, a unicorn, a rat, and a birthday.

(happy adoption day, Uncle Moony)

5-Moony, Bobcat, Padfoot and Prongs are proud to introduce Harry James Potter-Black

6-Mirror Images, Distorted Reflections

Harry's last year before Hogwarts. Lily and James are awake, we get the family meeting Regulus has been wanting, and everyone tries to figure out how to function again.

7-Forbidden knowledge and misunderstood monsters

Year One (in progress)

8-Turns (in the tides of war)

9-The choice no one gets to make

10-The ones who lived

11-I love (the ghost of) you

12-Roads unseen guide us home

13-Always and forever with you

Fan Art (yall, you have no idea how exciting it was to even just typer that omg)

From our beloved prompt giver, @anonymousqualities from little Luna in 4-Ragtag Little Family ❣️

#glta #glta writes on ao3 #glta writes fanfic #glta writes #glta has brainrot #challenge prompt au #regulus raising harry #Moonwater raising Harry #platonic Moonwater #marauders era #marauders fanfic #Jegulus #supportive + platonic Jily after the birth of Harry #Harry calls Regulus Papa #I will give no spoilers of the Hogwarts years yet my plan is too good #wolfstar #nobleflower #Drarry

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imperialpatriot66 · 6 months

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TLK Headcanon(s): Sarabi lives!

Um so yeah, thought this blog(or whatever this is called) would first be about my obsession with Star Wars and the fics I made for that. However I have been on a Lion King high at the moment and read a lot of Lion King fanfiction and I thought I would give it a go as well. For that there comes headcanons and mine is that Sarabi lives!

In my headcanon Sarabi lives on but gets hurt by Scar when he hits her(in the scene where Simba returns to the Pridelands) she also suffered a lot during Scar’s reign due to the drought and famine and has problems moving later in life. It’s why she is not present at the presentation of either Kiara or Kion(if he got a presentation? But he probably did). However, she was not that old to not be present at some events like the Ukumbusho Tradition when Kion’s guard played.

(The Front Lioness in The Upper Left Corner has been theorised and it’s my headcanon to be Sarabi.)

(Chart over size and age of lion cubs)

However, I needed to know how long the characters were for my story which is set roughly 4 years after the end of TLK2. If we go back to the first Lion King according to this chart(above) and a Buzzfeed article Simba is around 2-months old when we first see him. Then a couple of days later his father dies fully grown and looking at pictures of adult male lions I’d say he is around maybe 6 years old which is what I’ll have Sarabi as well(since they were probably betrothed to each other from birth). Simba’s time in the jungle takes place till he becomes a grown adult, maybe 5 years old. So Scar’s reign lasts five years and by that time Sarabi is 11 years old. Which is old but the average lioness lives to be around 17 so not super. The entirety of TLK2 we see Kiara grow up to be a sub-adult(real term) so she is around maybe 3 years old. This makes Sarabi 14 years old. My story then takes place 2 years later which makes Sarabi 16 years old which is still a realistic age as she is taken care of despite her injuries. In my fic, she can barely stand anymore and spends her time in her own private den which is a part of the main den. She also has some trouble with her memory but still can recall her son, granddaughter and great-grandson(Oh! OC mention!).

For the other characters I imagine Simba being 10, Kiara 5, Kovu 6(but still quite close in age but Kovu is older since he was borned during Scar’s reign and Kiara was born around 120 days after Simba came to power), Zazu 15(since an adult Red-horned hornbill is over 3 years old I assume he could be around 5 years old at the start of TLK).

Sources:

#the lion king #The Lion King II: Simba's Pride #the lion guard #lion king #tlk headcanon #headcanon #simba #tlk #tlk fanfic #tlk 2 #kiara #kovu #zazu #sarabi #ngl my favourite lion queen #idk why #we will we see when ill get back to sw

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imaginedreamwrite · 1 year

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I posted 4,111 times in 2022

That's 4,111 more posts than 2021!

3,619 posts created (88%)

492 posts reblogged (12%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@imaginedreamwrite

@cadencejames87

@autumnrose40

@justalonelyslytherin

@inkedaztec

I tagged 825 of my posts in 2022

#steve rogers x reader - 67 posts

#bucky barnes x reader - 61 posts

#a/b/o - 53 posts

#ari levinson x reader - 53 posts

#steve rogers x reader smut - 49 posts

#bucky barnes x reader fluff - 46 posts

#steve rogers x reader angst - 42 posts

#steve rogers x reader fluff - 42 posts

#bucky barnes x reader smut - 40 posts

#stucky x reader angst - 39 posts

Longest Tag: 98 characters

#alpha!ari levinson x omega!reader x alpha!steve rogers x omega!jake jensen x alpha!ransom drysdale

My Top Posts in 2022:

Lion’s Den

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Summary: In need of a job, your omega sister and her alpha mate, Marcus, manages to get you a job at the strip club the mafia he’s part of runs. After you catch the eye, and they catch your scent, of the big bosses Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, you are set on a path that leads directly to them. They are your alphas and you are their omega.

646 notes - Posted April 22, 2022

Brave New World

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Bucky comforting reader after Steve leaves for a mission

Reader gets scared of the storm and sneaks into Steve & Bucky’s bed

Reader gets scared of the storm

Summary: Steve and Bucky remember; they remember when omegas were common and not a myth. Though they’re in their late 40’s, early 50’s, and more silver than not, they remember.

They were gone for decades, the world was made up of only alphas and betas, no omegas to fill the void between the designations. There were no more omegas, and all hope was lost at getting them back.

Until a mysterious woman who is discovered to be an omega, from an alternate reality. She’s found hiding in an abandoned building, thrown from one reality to the next to save her life from the bleak state of the world she comes from.

She’s here now; she belongs to Steve and Bucky.

656 notes - Posted June 7, 2022

Taken

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Summary: Getting involved in your brothers life sets you head first on the path of two annoying mob men who are dead set on taking you as theirs — no matter how abrasive you manage to be

See the full post

725 notes - Posted April 23, 2022

ImagineDreamWrite’s Masterlist

Andy Barber

Ari Levinson

See the full post

754 notes - Posted April 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I am begging BEGGING BEGGING for protective Jake Seresin? PLEASE?!?!?!

maybe reader’s ex comes looking for her, finds her at Hard Deck?

I got you!

Your head felt like it was being split in two, you felt pain shooting up from your brainstem like a wicked fog until every inch of your brain was melded into one thick layer of searing agony.

And he stood there in the makeshift parking lot with a scowl on his face and his piercing eyes. He was waiting for you while you stood firm on the bottom step of the bar, knowing full well that eyes were on you from inside. The usual crowd, the men and women you’ve come to know while you were here, some more obvious than others.

Rooster and Vida, the two who were coupled together and inseparable, his hand on her back while she bit her tongue. It wasn’t her battle to face, it was yours, but seeing your cheating ex after he destroyed you it had pissed her off to no end.

He was back, declaring that he was going to take you home because he felt like he owned you. There was never a wedding, there wasn’t even a full engagement.

And he…he chose to break you when he brought another woman into your bed.

“Get your ass down here-“

“No!” You cut him off, your mind turning to mush. “I already said no!”

“Dammit, Y/N!” He raised his voice and even over the music you knew Jake was watching you, listening for the moment he needed to step in.

“Get your ass in the vehicle, right now!” Your ex-fiancé was now a brute and maybe he had always been one, or maybe it was a new symptom.

“I’m not going-“

“Your mama said you moved across the country. Why’d you do that, huh? Why’d you move so far from me?”

“Don’t make me fucking drag you-“

“I’m not going back! I’m not going back to you, and I’m not going back home!” You denied him, you denied him again and again.

In your denial, you had left yourself open. He stalked toward you and ripped you down the steps with such force that your legs gave way. You fought against him and felt the crack of flesh on flesh, the sting immediate.

One minute he was angry, the next he was soft after he let you fall and reached for you again.

You cupped your cheek, vision blurring and your eyes watering. You stumbled to your feet, hands bruised and cut from the pebbles and the small stones on the makeshift gravel road. You stumbled again, shock running through you and it took you a moment to hear the eery quiet of the bar, there was no music, and the weight of watchful eyes was more intense.

You could hear chairs scraping across the wooden floor, it cut through like a knife, and the door opened with a heavy thud. You knew who was there, you knew that Jake Seresin was standing on the edge of the door with a seething anger in his veins.

“Come back inside.” Vida had called for you, stuck and blocked from your ex’s view by Rooster. “Sweetie, come back inside.”

“Get in the fucking vehicle! You’re going home!” He screamed, he took another step toward you before strong, heavy footsteps came down the stairs and crunched gravel beneath them.

“Darlin’,” that soft and smooth voice came as he came to pass you, unafraid of your ex or his rage, “go back inside.”

“Jake-“

“I’m not asking.” He looked back at you, his eyes locking on your own. “Go back inside, darlin’.”

You turned, coerced by his voice and the soft demand that meant safety and security. You were met by Vida and Penny, the two of them stealing you away into the bar and a wall of pilots sealing off the entrance.

From behind you you could hear Rooster speak. “Hangman, you good?”

“Yeah, Rooster. I’m good.” He still had that cocky twang, but there was an air of severity in his voice. “We’re just gonna have a little talk.”

“I’ll get some ice.” Penny left you to walk around the bar, moving quickly while Vida you to sit by a table, one that was isolated from the rest.

“Shit, Y/N-“ she paused when you waved her off and raised your head, your cheek already feeling swollen and sore.

See the full post

1,651 notes - Posted November 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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zepskies · 1 year

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Series Masterlist - Break Me Down

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

AN: For those of you who enjoyed “Checkerboard,” here’s the requested prequel series! It’s gonna be a long road to get to that version of Soldier Boy. Technically this is an AU set post-season 3.

Series Tags/Warnings: **Rated M. (18+ only.) Enemies to frenemies to lovers. Angsty, messy, moral quandaries galore. This is a romance, but it’s a dark world with morally gray and dark characters, including Soldier Boy, of course. **Smut, language, misogyny, violence, and other chapter-specific tags.

🎵 Listen While You Read: The BMD Playlist

Chapters:

Prologue

Part 1 - The Game Begins

Part 2 - You Move Me, Baby

Part 3 - Somewhere Down Below

Part 4 - On the Inside Out

Part 5 - Morning, Night & Day

Part 6 - A Hot Meal

Part 7 - Until Midnight

Part 8 - Something in the Way

Part 9 - Breach

Part 10 - Caught in the Balance

Part 11 - The Lion's Den

Part 12 - All Your Wicked Ways

Part 13 - A Generous Deal

Part 14 - Safe House

Part 15 - The Tower

Part 16 - Soldier Boy

Part 17 - More Than Words Can Say

Epilogue - All My Living Time

Series Complete!

Did you like this series? If you'd like to keep supporting me as I continue the BMD-verse, here's a way to keep me caffeinated:

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Read More In the BMD-Verse

Not done reading this version of Soldier Boy x Reader? Well, there's more to their story.

(**Notes 18+ only and/or smut)

One-Shots:

In the Dark You and Ben have tackled the insurmountable together, but no one said the recovery would be easy.

Checkerboard** You’re not a supe. You’re breakable. Soldier Boy sometimes forgets that.

Love Actually** Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 - Complete

Wake Me Up** [MINI SERIES] - COMING MAY 5/03! A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, he is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

Strong As Blood** After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out?

(In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

Part 1 || Part 2 - Complete

Until Morning A quiet moment between you, Ben, and your newborn daughter.

Green** Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.

Calculated Risks You and Ben argue about your commitment to being a working mom. When a rogue supe gets loose at Supe Affairs, mayhem ensues, putting not only your life at risk, but your daughter’s as well.

Imagines:

Getting jealous.** 💚 Ben needs new clothes, but the shop girls think your boyfriend is fair game.

Ben’s reaction to his girlfriend on her period.❣️ How he takes care of you.

Ben loses you. 💔 Includes a “twist” ending…

Talk to Me 💞 In the wake of his vivid nightmare, you confront Ben about his fears and get him to open up. [Sequel to “Ben loses you.”]

Moodboard below created by @chernayawidow:

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #the boys amazon #private investigator!reader #checkerboard prequel #dark romance #break me down #break me down masterlist #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #soldier boy fanfiction #the boy au #enemies to lovers #romance #zepskies writes

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starplatinumnun · 2 years

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Here's a thought I had while looking at the names of each 8:11 character.

Leon's name means "lion," an animal with heavy significance in the bible on both sides, good and evil.

This symbolism could be being used to show Leon's righteousness, courage and strength as a man of God.

After all, God shows power over the lions in the lions' den with Daniel by shutting their mouths. (Daniel 6:21-22.) Which shows God's rule over even the largest and most ferocious of beasts. Jesus is also known as the Lion of Judah. (Revelation 5:5.)

However, (and this is the case for my interpretation of Leon,) it could be used to show the inverse of Leon being an evil and destructive man.

In 1 Peter 5:8, Peter compares Satan to a lion on the prowl. In Ephesians 6:11-16, Satan's influence on people is compared to the roar of a lion. By this, it means that the roar of a lion is meant to terrify and establish dominance over those who hear it, and Satan does this when he whispers doubts into your mind.

Lions are also one of the faces of the many-headed cherubim. (Ezekiel 10:14.) This may be a reference to Leon's heavenly qualities, whether that be the fact that he's literally dead and in Heaven, or his allegiance with the (corrupt) angels, of which we know little.

I haven't actually drawn conclusions yet, as I need to replay 8:11, and the fact that we still don't know the "full picture" or meaning behind parts of the story. It's like putting together a puzzle with half of the pieces! I'm just excited to see what exactly this means for Leon's character.

#811 leon #leon 811 #8:11 game #811 game #8:11 spoilers #811 spoilers #long post #my writing

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farfromstrange · 2 years

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Foreigner's God: Chapter 11

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC

Chapter Summary: Hunting down one lead leads to another, but this time, Eliza gets knocked down hard. A ghost from her past returns. It's bound to lead her down an even deeper rabbit hole. Can she prevent the disaster that is looming on the horizon?

Warnings: drugs, language, a lot of plot, Matt's wound up and he says some things he shouldn't

Word Count: 16.1k

A/n: it’s less the title that fits, it’s the song. some of the lyrics spoke to me during the climax of this chapter.

Read Chapter 11: New Invention here on AO3!

18+ MINORS DNI

The darkest parts of Hell’s Kitchen are the most terrifying, even with the sun on full rise. There was little tourist activity, the streets were chronically empty and when someone did end up walking the streets, they were most likely carrying some kind of weapon.

Eliza supposed this was the place where Daredevil mostly operated. He never swayed further than Hell’s Kitchen, and there happens to be enough crime to go around in that part of New York for him to be satisfied for years to come.

“Where are we going?” Foggy asked her eventually.

They reached the brownstone. It looked all the same, old and broken down, and the homeless people on the front steps were still the same crowd she’d left back then.

“Here,” she answered.

She smelled the heroin reek through the cracked windows, fixed with newspapers like the works of an amateur.

“Here? Are you sure? This is a drug den.”

“Exactly. Don’t tell Matt.”

An addict in a drug den has the same energy as a lamb in a lion’s cage. The door opened and a man stormed out. He had the pockets of his hoodie stuffed, his face pale, and sweat all over his body. When he saw her, he panicked. She wasn’t sure who he thought she was. He didn’t recognize her, she was sure of that, though it kind of seemed like it for a second. She opened her mouth to ease his conscience, but the man ran before she got the chance to speak.

She caught the closing door, still trailing after the man. She decided it was his choice like it had been hers. She wasn’t allowed to make conclusions or to judge. Part of her wanted to run after him and offer him redemption, but who was she to offer him the same thing she refused herself to achieve? Alcoholism was as much part of addiction as consuming other substances was. Alcohol made her forget. Sobering up had been the hardest thing she ever had to do, not to mention the withdrawal and physical side effects. She was proud to have overcome it, but she was nothing but a hypocrite in the end.

The wooden tiles creaked under their shoes. She met an even heavier whiff of freshly cooked heroin and crack. The grainy scent of weed clung to the ceiling. She stepped through the smoke. Drugs mixed with vomit – the blend made her want to throw up, too.

Foggy tripped over what seemed to look like a bag. Her hand shot out to catch him. “Careful,” she said.

“Thanks.” He shook the hair out of his face. “Man,” he asked, “What’s that smell?”

“Some heroin and cooked cocaine, I suppose.”

“So, crack?”

Eliza snorted - the reaction to hearing something funny, may I add; she did not snort cocaine. “Yes, crack.”

“Are you sure you should be here?” he questioned. “With your history and all.”

“I shouldn’t do a lot of things, Foggy, doesn’t mean I won’t do ‘em.”

“Yeah, I figured. Considering we had to bail you out of jail the first time we met.”

“Guilty as charged,” she said.

“You know,” – she wasn’t exactly sure what told him that they could have a full-blown conversation in the middle of a drug den – “The way Matt looks lately I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job at showing him a mirror.”

“How so?”

“He seems to have developed the ability to actually care for someone as deeply as he cares for you, and while he has tried to push me away again, he didn’t. This is the first time he actually lets me help. All thanks to you. I think… yeah, Matt is starting to become more human.”

“He’s always been human,” Eliza stated. “The state he’s in… all this pain, it’s what makes us human in the first place, so there’s no one quite as human as someone who has suffered the pain of two lifetimes. And he’s lived just a little over thirty years, so of course, he is the way he is.”

“You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, well, the only difference between me and Matt is that I’ve never been human and I probably never will. That makes him so much stronger than anyone else. You know why?”

“No, why?”

“The things he had to suffer through should have killed him, but they didn’t. He’s still here. He’s still standing. If I were him, I don’t know where I would be right now. I guess that’s why he acts that way around me; he knows I know what he’s going through, and he knows that I can catch him if the need arises because I’ve been through it many times before. I know what it’s like to feel broken beyond repair. Trust me,” she stopped in front of the stairway at the end of the hallway, “There is no one more human than Matt Murdock.”

Foggy scratched his neck. “Wow,” he muttered. “I actually haven’t thought about it like that before. Now that you mention it though…”

“He just doesn’t want to lose you,” she answered his unspoken question. “The only reason he treats you this way. I’m not saying it’s right, I’m just saying that Matt requires an ungodly amount of patience. He’s afraid the people he loves will eventually leave him, that’s why he never tells them. He’s trying to show it, but he can’t do that either because the only person who’s ever shown him, real love, died when he was a kid. I wouldn’t take it personally.”

“I’m not. It’s just… it’s hard. I can’t fight for him if he keeps breaking my back. You know what I’m saying?”

She nodded gently. “I know. Just,” she said and leaned into him, “Don’t leave him. You and Karen, you’re all he’s got.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“We all know how this is gonna end,” what she hadn’t dared to voice before became shockingly clear. It hit even harder than the drugs in the air. “He’s gonna need you guys when I’m gone,” she said. “But let’s face it, once this is over, I will be gone. There is only a five percent chance I will actually survive, and that is kindly put.”

Foggy stopped her before she could ascend the stairs. “Eliza,” he called softly.

“Foggy?”

“Don’t say that. This is not over, okay?” He grabbed her by the shoulders. His soft eyes bore into hers. “And don’t you dare say you’re gonna die. I won’t allow that. Not on my watch, young lady!”

She chuckled. “You can’t change the inevitable.”

“How are you so calm? Stop it!”

“I’m just facing the truth,” she said. “That’s my life. I’ve been prepared for my life to end my whole life. As someone who’s never quite felt human or like she even belongs here, I’m okay with where this is heading. And what’s more human than dying?”

“You know, if you only took me with you to tell me that you believe you’re gonna die and you don’t want to hurt Matt,” he took a shaky breath, “this was a real dick move.” He looked so hurt like this.

“I’m sorry,” Eliza sighed. “I just thought it’s best to tell you in case this all goes downhill today or- or even tomorrow. I’m not sure, I just got a bad feeling. You’re the only one with a clear mind right now, Foggy,” she said, “and I think you’ll understand what I’ve just told you once you need to.”

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with this info now,” he said truthfully.

“Don’t say anything. Shit hasn’t hit the fan yet. I’m trying to hold on to hope as long as possible, but my gut is hardly ever wrong, and it’s telling me that this – all of this – is not gonna end well.”

“But we can talk about that when it’s time.”

“Sure. When it’s time.”

“Which, hopefully,” he said, “is never.”

She chuckled, her mind absent. She was floating somewhere over the Grand Canyon. Her headspace was undetermined. She wasn’t sure what to believe in anymore, so she simply stopped. Hope was nothing but empty promises now.

She waved for him to follow her up the stairs. “C’mon,” she told him. “We’ve got a job to do.”

Foggy wanted to push the conversation away. He refused to believe that this was the direction she had set sail on. He refused to believe that there was no other way. And no matter how many times she told him not to worry about it until the time came, he couldn’t stop replaying her words over and over in his mind, suddenly overcome by nausea and the looming feeling that everything was about to change very soon.

Eliza guided them up the stairway to the first floor. There was a commotion in the hallway. She pressed a hand to Foggy’s chest and pushed him against the wall, the doorframe making him almost invisible to anyone coming at them. She pressed a finger to her lips. He nodded. He knew what that meant.

She slid her hand around the gun in the back of her pants. The barrel was cold against her heated back. “Hi,” she said casually. The two men guarding the door turned at the same time. “I’m looking for Royal?”

They huffed. Their automatic weapons were charged and ready in front of them.

“Who are you?” one of them asked.

“A well-paying customer. Who are you?”

“Yeah, right. As long as you don’t have an appointment, we have to ask you to leave.”

“Appointment? What is this, the doctor’s office?”

The other scowled at her. “Get lost!”

“Okay.” She pretended to turn away, the hold on her gun long gone. The men chuckled at each other; they were making fun of her. Eliza sighed. “Why does it always have to come down to this?” she said. “Don’t you guys know any better by now?”

“Lady, we told you-”

“I know what you told me,” she landed her elbow in his nose, then went straight ahead to kick his partner’s side flat with the sole of her boot, “but I simply don’t care.” Her fist was finally enough to leave them motionless on the floor. She unloaded their weapons and tossed the ammunition to the other side of the room.

She waved at Foggy. He followed hesitantly, his satchel a pathetic excuse for a shield. At the end of the hall, they stepped through the door into the makeshift office. The man she was looking for stood at the wooden table, bags of white powder and green leaves scattered around. “Royal,” she called out. The man flinched, ready to grab his gun. The barrel clicked against the back of his head. “Na-ah.”

He lowered his arms and the gun into her hand. “What do you want?” Royal asked.

Eliza handed the weapon over to Foggy to take, but he simply stared at the black object with wide eyes. “Take it!” she said.

“Me?” he stammered. “I’m supposed to- I don’t believe in guns.”

“Trust me, they’re very real, now take it.”

“Geez, okay. Um-” he held it with his pointy finger, dangerously close to the trigger.

She groaned, grabbed the handle, and turned it around so he was holding it far away from their possible demise. “The safety is undone,” she told him. “Jesus, Foggy, you want to kill us?”

He panicked. “How was I supposed to know?”

“You- alright, never mind! Just hold it like that and do not drop it. Please.”

“Got it,” he nodded.

“Thank you.”

Royal peaked over his shoulder. His dark brows were furrowed in an amused frown. “What is this?” he asked. “Kindergarten party?”

Eliza dug her gun deeper into his skull. “If you don’t stop talking, this is gonna be your funeral,” she shot back.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m sorry. Just don’t shoot me, Jesus.”

“Turn around.”

He did. “Liz?” it dawned on him. “Man, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I want answers.”

“And who’s this guy?” he asked.

“A friend.”

“A friend, huh? What kinda name is Foggy?”

Foggy blushed bright red. “It’s short for Franklin,” he defended himself. “It’s a family name. My mom’s very proud of it.”

Royal laughed. It was the kind of laugh that made everyone want to cut it off his face. The sound could’ve easily been the cause of mass murder.

“Okay, sir,” – and just as Eliza was about to shush him because god forbid, she would’ve been the next one to die if something happened to him, Foggy stepped up like a genius and said, “You know, I’m the one holding your gun right now. And from what I’ve heard, the safety’s off, which means it can shoot. You don’t have a gun anymore, so, I’d be careful what names you want to make fun of. Sir.”

Eliza raised her eyebrows.

“Was that good?” he asked her.

“That was- it was something, yeah,” she said.

Royal crossed his arms behind his head. “Look, I don’t want trouble,” he said.

“You should’ve thought about that before insulting us, punk.”

She shook her head. “That’s going a bit too far now, Foggy.”

“Right,” he retreated, “Sorry.”

Eliza eyed the heavy supplies of drugs around him. “Business is flowing, I see,” she pointed out.

“You looking to buy something?” Royal asked.

“No, I’m not doing that anymore.”

“Explains why I haven’t seen you for a couple of years. Where are you these days?”

“Trying to catch dirtbags. Which brings me to you, Royal…”

“What do you need, Liz?”

She smirked. “I need information.”

“Information?” he questioned.

“On something that went down in Hell’s Kitchen, over by the docks, last night,” she said.

“The explosion,” he knew exactly what she meant. “They’re saying it was a gas leak.”

“It wasn’t. But I think you know that. I heard about what was going down on the dark web. If they knew about the Viper, you certainly do too.”

Royal scoffed. “The Viper,” he repeated. “Yeah, I know him.”

“You do?” Foggy asked.

“Of course, he does,” Eliza said.

“Not personally, of course,” Royal stated.

“Of course not.”

“But if I did I’d say his name was Ivan Borodin.”

She expected something, but it certainly wasn’t Ivan’s full name or the fact that Royal knew him. Curiosity was spiked. Eliza crossed her arms. “You know his name?” she asked to clarify.

Royal nodded. “You want any more than that, it’s gonna cost you.”

“Seriously?” she scoffed at his approval. “I’m not gonna buy anything, but here,” she handed him a fifty-dollar bill, “That enough?”

He didn’t answer, at first. “Ivan Borodin. The Viper,” he told her. “I had some dealer come up to me two weeks ago, told me he got hired by someone called The Viper. He was scared and all that told me he didn’t have much time but that he was supposed to get an order from one end to the other.”

The pair shared a look. “What’s his name?” Foggy asked.

“That’s confidential.”

Eliza wasn’t having it. She cocked the gun. “Is it still confidential or do I have to shoot your dick off to get answers?”

The wisest choice was to cave, he realized. The way she looked at him left no space for interpretation. With his arms raised, he admitted, “People on the streets know him as Venom.”

“Venom? The enormous black rage monster?”

“No, not that thing. His real name is Jerome something.”

The gun wavered.

“Jerome Walton! His name’s Jerome Walton.”

“And?” she pushed.

“He used to operate out on 12th Avenue by the docks. That’s probably where they caught him. He came here from the Bronx. Real tough guy. Seeing him scared like that was, whew, something else.”

“Thanks.” She tucked the gun away. “Wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

“With a gun to my face, I beg to differ.”

“Oh, relax. You’ve had worse.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I don’t like to be threatened in my own home,” Royal argued.

“Your home?” Eliza asked and looked around. “Man, I feel bad for you.” She didn’t know if it was the smell of drugs or the vomit or perhaps both.

He only scoffed. “Jerome didn’t tell me what was sold, just that he had to do it or else they were gonna kill him. So I did my research.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Bitch, what you take me for? A fool?”

“Sorry, I was just asking.”

“I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have, man. I always do my research with precision. I figured out where the deal was gonna go down and when. My guy told me it was some kind of serum, but he couldn’t talk about what it was exactly. Guess he needed a witness in case something went south. So I tracked the stuff to some German guy in a cancer research lab.”

“Robert Pfeiffer.”

“Yeah.”

“Did it look something like this?” She pulled the vial from her back pocket. The clear liquid inside hadn’t changed since she got it.

Royal gasped. “Where did you get that?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“This is exactly what Jerome showed me,” he said. The serious look on his face changed into something more distant, something that resembled fear, even. She felt the confidence shift. “Listen, I don’t know what this is, but people are clearly willing to kill for it, so maybe you should just leave.”

Eliza grabbed him by the collar. “This isn’t some new drug, Royal,” she said. “This is the kind of stuff that could pay millions. I need to know more about the people Jerome was working with. As you said, they’re willing to kill for this, and I would like to stop them before any more people have to die.”

His lip quirked up. “You know what it’s inside.”

“I do, but I’m no scientist. I’m not like Pfeiffer. This is only my insurance.” She stuffed the vial back where it came from. “Now, talk before I shoot you.”

“Geez, woman! Alright… so, the guy died, right? My dealer told me he’d die if something happened because it was the last of it, but somehow he got another order because they got that stuff from someone else, right? Don’t know who because the Viper guy got dangerously close to figuring me out so I dropped it and after last night, I’m pretty sure the guy is dead. And my dealer, which is pretty unfortunate.”

That was disappointing. “Anything else?” Eliza grasped at straws. “Any more names, places, coordinates?”

“What else you want? My bank number?”

“I do,” Foggy raised his hand.

“He doesn’t,” she said. “Ignore him. He’s just my bodyguard. Anyway, what were you saying?”

Royal flinched away at the look on her face. “He may have said something about a storage unit where he picked up the order, but you know, he was scared and we only talked swiftly because he was pretty damn sure he was being watched. What’s all of this about, anyway?” he asked. “Why you so obsessed with this?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“I do wanna know.”

“If you know, the same thing that happened to your friend will happen to you.”

“Oh, my- why so fucking mysterious?”

“That means you wanna tell me about the storage unit so I can make this all go away, right?”

“Right,” he patted his pants down, “I only remember the sign thing-y. He made me a little note but I threw it away because I’m not that stupid. I can draw it for you, but that’s all I have.”

“Thank you, Royal,” this time her words were soft, genuine.

He finished drawing the logo. She barely could make it out because of his shaky hands, but what he showed her seemed familiar. Eliza nodded at the note. “Thank you,” she said again.

“Just make this go away, whatever it is,” Royal said. “It’s bad for business, especially when my dealers drop like flies.”

“I promise.”

Before they left, Foggy had the courage to speak directly to him. “Maybe you should think about relocating,” he suggested. “The drug numbers are rising.”

“That’s good for me, bruv.”

“Think about it. Maybe you should go somewhere else, start another business, maybe one that’s not illegal.”

“You want to tell me about justice, Liz’s bodyguard? Mind your own business!”

“I’m a lawyer, I could help you.”

“Lawyer? What the fuck? What you bringing a lawyer here for?” he asked Eliza.

She rolled her eyes. “Security, I told you,” she said.

“You’ve gotten boring, man.”

“I know. Just trying to make the world a better place.”

“You’re at the wrong address here. Now, you better give me my gun back and leave before I change my mind.”

“Change your mind?” she snorted. “I can kick your ass in my sleep. Thanks for the info though. It was nice seeing you again, Royal.”

He took his gun back quickly as Foggy handed it to him. “Can’t say the same about you,” he said.

“Ouch.”

“Get outta here!”

She threw up a peace sign. “See ya around, Royal!”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.”

Eliza punched Foggy hard in the shoulder as soon as they were out. “You could’ve gotten yourself shot!” she said. “What is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry, I panicked!” He hugged his satchel tighter. “Maybe you should’ve taken Matt. He’s way more intimidating than I am.”

“The guy would be high by now, with his senses and everything. No, you’re good, you’re just a bit stupid sometimes.”

“Wow, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, what do we do about the logo?”

Eliza scanned the note with her phone. “I have this app,” she explained. “Tony taught me how to code, so I know a thing or two about writing programs.”

Foggy looked over her shoulder. “What does it do?” he asked.

“The app runs the drawing through every database there is. Storage Units and every other business are documented in ledgers and on websites. The program filters logos that look like this one or might resemble it and gives me a list of possible hits.”

“Can I download it on the App Store?”

“Not yet. Didn’t want to sell the code. I could create it for you though. Shouldn’t be too hard, I have the blueprint somewhere. I mean, it’s not as smart as Jarvis, but it’s something.”

“I’m so impressed right now.”

“Okay, Foggy, I think we’re going a bit too far now.”

“Sorry. I just think you made me fall in love with you.”

She chuckled. “Happens to the best of us.”

The phone pinged after another minute. Bingo.

“StorQuest Storage!” Eliza burst through the door into the apartment. Matt almost dropped his cereal bowl.

Foggy entered after her. It looked like he had been running up the stairs. “How is it that your little legs manage to run faster than mine?” he panted.

“Those little legs are about to kick your ass,” she retorted. “Anyway, StorQuest Storage. We got it, Matthew!”

Matt frowned. “What?” he asked.

“StorQuest Storage,” she said. “The seller that brought the serum to the warehouse met the supplier at this storage facility.” She slapped her phone down on the table. He eyed it first, then trailed his head up to Eliza. His mind reeled.

“You know he can’t see that, right?” Foggy said.

“Right, my bad. Sorry.”

“How did you find that out?” she’d never seen his eyes so wide and impressed before.

The honey brown of his irises looked so adorable in the soft sunlight; she could’ve sworn she saw speckles of green, whenever the sun stood right in the sky. His hair was still disheveled in all directions and the cuts on his face slowly turned from red to blue to green. He stood like a lost puppy in his kitchen, attention diverted completely toward the girl in his apartment.

“I talked to the right person,” she said.

“Was that person a drug dealer?”

She knew he’d bring that up.

“Let me guess, I smell like heroin?”

“Foggy does. Among other things.” His jaw clenched. “What were you doing in a drug den?”

“Getting information. From a drug dealer.”

“Why the fuck would you go to a drug dealer for information?”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I? Drug mules actually prove to be pretty reliable sources."

Matt's sigh was one of disappointment. "Alright," he mumbled to himself.

"Matt," she realized she'd made him upset. "Matt, talk to me."

"Take your shirt off," he said instead.

Her jaw dropped. "Pardon?"

Foggy stood there with his eyes wide. “I’m not down for a threesome,” he said.

"I don't see how that's relevant."

“Take it off, now,” Matt repeated.

“Why?” she asked.

"The smell's killing me. Now, I know you don't like to talk about it and while I don't like you going out and about with drug dealers, I won't force you to speak about something you're not ready to share with me yet. But please, for the love of all that is holy, let me wash that shirt!"

Matt Murdock didn't settle. He didn't move on after something like this. He closed chapters before they were finished and then he abandoned them, scared of the ending, even if there was a silver lining hidden somewhere in there.

Eliza had the choice once again. Like the night they first met though, she was sure she had made a bad judgment call and she would regret it, but it would always be worth more than doing nothing at all. Perhaps she could still fix him. Perhaps…

“StorQuest Storage," he said. "What’s it mean?”

Eliza scrambled to pick up her brain again. “Uh, it’s- it’s where the seller got the serum from the supplier, I told you that,” she said.

“Yes, but there’s more to it, isn’t there?”

Foggy stepped forward. “The seller’s name was Jerome Walton. Here,” he searched for the name on his laptop. “The guy’s got a record. Larceny, B & E, assault, attempted murder, possession of illegal substances, possession with the intent to sell, possession of an illegal weapon–“ he stopped. “That’s a lot of possessions for a single person.”

“He’s a drug dealer,” Eliza deadpanned. “What’d you expect?”

“Oh, there’s more! He was the suspect in an alleged human trafficking case in which Russian girls were found in a container at the Hudson.”

Matt opened his mouth. Trafficking. Young girls. He felt sick. “Foggy, how long ago was this?” he asked.

“Three weeks,” he read.

“Three weeks…”

“My source said they’d approached him about two weeks ago,” said Eliza. “This can’t be a coincidence. I mean, Jerome used to work down at 12th Avenue. They must’ve recruited him there.”

“This could be it,” Matt told her, nudging her slightly. He sensed the hesitation. She tried to pull away. He took her hand regardless.

"This could be the key," she kept saying to herself as she paced the kitchen floor. "This could be it. I solved it. I solved it."

This could be it. This could be the key.

Eliza dried her cheeks with the rough insides of her palms. “We, uh, we need to talk about our next move,” she said. “StorQuest Storage. What do we do?”

She realized they were staring at her. “What?”

“You sure you’re okay?” Foggy asked.

“Yeah, fine. I’d be better if this were all over. It’s just… the anxiety, I can’t control it.” She returned to the laptop.

The truth was, she didn’t know how to feel. She freaked out, that was normal. She worried too much. She worried too much about the wrong things and that was dangerous. Feelings were dangerous. She didn’t know what was happening to her. She was terrified. The anxiety she could deal with, but fear was something else entirely. The fear struck through her skin into her bones. It became part of her. She was scared of herself – she was scared of her feelings, scared of him, scared for him. No right way to explain it, words weren’t enough.

The state of not knowing is the most unpredictable state known to man, and that was exactly why Eliza couldn’t help but be numbed by the fear it came with.

“Karen, Karen, Karen!” Matt’s phone called out from the bedroom.

The three of them exchanged a look before Foggy blurted out, still bitter from the fight before, apparently, “Oh, so it does work!”

“I plugged it in,” Eliza admitted. Matt was more than glad for her save. “You know before you busted me in his bedroom.” She grinned cheekily back at him.

“Doesn’t matter,” Foggy said. “You gonna answer that, or not?”

“No,” Matt said.

“Why? It’s Karen.”

“She’s just gonna ask me what’s going on. I don’t have the nerve to lie to her right now.”

She saw what he was about to say. “Don’t,” she warned. “No more fighting.”

Just in time, the ringing stopped, followed only seconds later by Foggy’s ringtone filling the apartment. “You gonna get that?” she asked him.

He scoffed. “I hate you so much sometimes.” He pushed the green acceptance button. “Karen!” he answered. “What’s up?”

Matt tilted his head to listen in. For a second, Eliza considered asking him to translate, but then she remembered that it was their law firm and for once, this was a personal issue she shouldn’t get involved in, so she ignored the urge to be curious. Instead, she went into the kitchen to fix herself another coffee. The lack of sleep was slowly putting more and more weight on her burning eyelids.

“I was checking on Matt,” Foggy said. “I think he has the flu, that’s probably why I feel a little sick myself. You don’t know how he is when he gets sick. It’s almost like he’s having a psychosis.”

He shook his head at her. “Not true,” he mouthed. Eliza chuckled. Then, his smile dropped.

“NO!” Foggy almost yelled. It was loud enough to echo. “You don’t need to come over,” he said. “Really, I can take care of him just fine. It’s- well if the case is that important, I’m sure you can just send me an email- we don’t even know if we’re gonna take the case, Karen. For all we know, it may be useless to defend this guy… yeah, I know he’s in jail, but maybe there’s a reason for that. If I had the file, I could take a look and then get back to you.”

Matt motioned a hand at his friend. He excused himself and placed the phone on his shoulder, “What?”

“Go,” he said.

“What?”

“Go to the office. Take the case.”

“Matt-”

“This is not about you helping us, this is about Nelson & Murdock.”

“If I go there, Karen will know that I am not sick with the flu!”

“We need to keep our doors open, Foggy.”

“Oh, so just because you don’t like doing your job, I have to?” He scoffed. “Unbelievable. And I hate that you’re right.” Foggy lifted his hand off the speaker again. “You know what,” he told Karen, “I’ll come over and take a look at it in person. Just try to keep your distance because I might be infectious and the last thing we need is for us all to be sick and hallucinating. Not- not that I am hallucinating. Matt is, but he’s asleep right now, so I guess I can spare a couple of hours. I just need to lock all the doors and make sure he doesn’t get on the roof. I swear he’s like a cat when he’s sick. Anyway-” he reached for his bag, “I will be right there. Call the family and tell them to meet us at the office.”

Eliza wordlessly handed him a to-go cup she found stashed away in the kitchen after he had hung up.

“Thank you. You guys stay safe, alright?”

“We’ll be fine,” Matt said.

She wanted to punch him. “We’ll try our best and call you if there’s anything new,” she phrased it way better.

“I’ll be counting on it,” Foggy said.

The door fell shut behind him, leaving Matt and Eliza alone in his apartment. She hadn’t realized before that he was wearing his glasses. She got so used to him not wearing them around her, it confused her a little.

She felt confident to make an assumption after she made sure Foggy was gone. “You don’t like it when he sees your eyes because that makes it easier for him to read you.”

“What?” he asked.

“Foggy. You’re wearing your glasses again. You don’t do that around me.”

He appeared behind her in the kitchen. This time, she allowed him to take the beer bottle from the fridge. He tried to remove the cap with his hand, but he flinched away in pain as his muscles tensed. The stitches pulled hard and heavy, and the wound underneath began to throb.

Eliza took the cold glass. She twisted the metal to the left. It gave in with a loud click.

“Thank you,” he said, but she didn’t hand it to him, not yet. She guided the bottle to his hand, though not without trading it for the glasses on his face. He raised his eyebrows. She could’ve sworn he was staring at her, following her with his eyes, although it wasn’t possible. The challenging look he held made her shiver.

It wouldn’t have been Eliza if she had just taken the awkwardness of the situation and dealt with it. She slipped them on her face. “I have a question, Mister Murdock,” she said. “How exactly do you see through these?”

The thought process flashed perfectly across his eyes. No matter how miserable the joke was, his tense expression cracked up the second he managed to make sense of what she had just said. He laughed. It was a quiet one, and it was barely there, but his grin was enough to make her smile.

“Thank God. I was starting to think you’d lost your humor completely.”

“You see,” Matt began, “There is this thing I have, Miss Bennett.”

“Oh, really?”

“It’s called chronic blindness.”

She snatched the beer bottle from him, took a sip, and then gave it back to him. “Sounds serious,” she said.

“Incurable, I’m afraid.”

Eliza chuckled to herself. “I like this version of you better.”

“What version?”

“The one who isn’t afraid to be himself.”

“Well,” he reached for his glasses, “At least I’m not a thief,” he said, and promptly, he stole them back. He put them back on his nose. “Now, don’t we have a storage unit to investigate?”

She sighed. “I mean, yeah. We should go there.”

“Yeah,” Matt agreed. Something soft hit him in the face. He knew what it was, judging by the horrendous smell, but he didn’t make an effort to catch it. “Ow?”

“May I make use of your closet to get a new shirt, Mister Murdock?” she asked.

He felt stupid. The blood rushed to his cheeks knowing she was standing there in only her bra – lace, he could tell by the way it moved against her skin – and that she didn’t even try to hide it. Karen had done it too, the night she spent at his apartment after he and Foggy got her out of jail. He had told Eliza it was fine, he couldn’t see, but the knowledge alone made him feel like a teenager all over again.

He scrunched his nose. “Yeah,” the answer came quietly.

“Thank you. Anything, in particular, I am not allowed to wear?”

“Knock yourself out.”

She disappeared into his bedroom. The fabric kept brushing against more fabric as she gently rustled through his drawers. She steered clear of his dress shirts, knowing they were ordered a certain way. His collection of sweaters and sleep t-shirts was messy though; the only way he could tell them apart was by fabric. The clothes he wore more often were all sorted in a certain way, but since he hardly wore anything other than his suits and sweatpants on off days, there was a lot he didn’t mind being taken.

Not that he would’ve minded if Eliza had walked out with one of his suits. The thought alone excited him in a perverted way and he hated himself for thinking that way.

Her boots patted against the floor. “You know,” she said, and he turned his head in her direction, “This is actually a tight fit.”

“What’re you wearing?” Matt asked.

“I don’t know. It’s black, that’s for sure. And it’s tight. Long sleeves, too.”

He smelled the faintest remains of sweat and blood that stuck to the fabric. “That’s my-“ he didn’t finish.

“What?” he only imagined the innocent look on her face.

He thought he had a problem with her wearing it, but those times were over and he no longer needed it. The shirt was just that, a shirt. Nothing more. It had been a symbol once, but that symbol had long been replaced by something else.

“Never mind,” he waved her off. “Probably looks good.”

He knew it did. She felt comfortable in it, too. And she smelled like him, which was a bonus.

“It’s comfortable. Not too loose, not too tight. Feels like I’ve seen you wear it before, but I can’t remember when. It’s weird.”

“Yeah. Weird what tricks your mind can play, right?”

Maybe she looked like him, minus the mask and the black jeans. She was wearing boots though and her hair was braided, he could tell. It didn’t move against her shoulders too much and her natural scent radiated off her throat without any borders to filter it.

“Anyway,” she said, reaching for her old shirt. He frowned at the simple action. As she walked through the open bathroom door, her voice sounded back to him. “We need to go to StorQuest Storage and see what connection the place has to Jerome.”

He heard the washing machine open. She popped the shirt in. The laundry detergent was hidden in plain sight. She poured some of it in, as written on the instructions. Exactly the right amount.

“It’s, unfortunately, the only way if we want to find answers.”

She was about to suggest something, but knowing her, he cut her off.

“I won’t let you do this alone this time,” he said.

His washing machine made the sound it always made whenever the chosen program started. She peaked her head around the corner. “But-”

“No. You said you can’t do this yourself and I won’t let you.”

“You’re probably right,” she came out with a sigh. “I’m worried about your injuries though. You can’t walk around like you’re healthy and risk internal bleeding. I mean, it wouldn’t help any of us.”

He directed his eyes to the ceiling. “I’m gonna be fine. I fought a bunch of guys in a hallway after my lung almost collapsed and I survived. It’s no big deal.”

Eliza stared at him in absolute horror. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?!” she asked.

“No, probably not. Heh.”

“God,” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Let’s say you go in as yourself. Maybe not tell anyone you’re Matt Murdock. This is a storage facility. It’s not like anyone cares. And even if they do, I have ways to lie my way out of things.”

“I’m not Matt Murdock if I can’t be Daredevil, Eliza.”

Her eyes softened. “For all I know, you’re just a lawyer. People look at you and they see a blind man. They don’t see a city-wide known vigilante. I mean, we can hide the bruises. There’s concealer for that. And if anyone asks, you just had a fight with a raccoon.”

Matt deadpanned at her. “This is your understanding of a good excuse?”

“You were drunk,” she suggested.

“No.”

“Well, what do you tell your friends when you come in with a shiner like that?” she pointed to his eye. “You know, before even Foggy knew, how did you explain all the bruises?”

He pursed his lips. “I stumbled, hit my head. I once said I got into a car accident, but I doubt Karen believed me. I know she didn’t.”

“Really?” Eliza glared at him. “And she didn’t believe you?”

“Yeah. Although I did look the part.”

“I can’t believe you made it this far without anyone finding out. Blows my mind.”

“Well, I am blind.”

“Your excuses are terrible. Do better.”

“Ha ha,” he breathed out. “Very funny. I mean, do we even know what we’re looking for?” he quipped.

“No,” she said, “but we have a face and a name. How hard can it be?”

Very hard, apparently.

“On second thought,” - Eliza stared at the maze of storage units - “Maybe I was wrong.”

When they arrived at the storage facility, the woman at the front desk eyed them wearily.

“She’s not gonna give us anything,” Matt whispered in her ear.

Eliza figured as much.

“Welcome to StorQuest Storage. What can I help you with?” the woman asked.

“Sorry to barge in like that,” Matt greeted her with a charming smile. “It’s just that I and my wife were looking to rent one of your storage units to keep our furniture before we move into our house. A friend of ours recommended this place.”

The woman eyed Eliza. Something didn’t feel right. Her fingers drew circles. The smoke conquered her soul. For a second, the woman’s body went entirely stiff. When her eyes opened, there was a glow inside of them. Her mood shifted. Eliza felt the pressure of an unloving husband and kids that danced around the house, not cleaning a single inch. They struggled with money and it made her sad, it made her bitter. She wasn’t open to persuasion. With one flick of her finger, all of that disappeared. Left behind was the kind of woman that was willing to help them out.

“Hi,” her voice sounded higher. “I’m sorry, what were you saying again?”

Matt tilted his head in the direction of the sizzling. The sound made the air smell sweet.

“Me and my husband are looking for a storage unit,” Eliza said.

“You’ve come to the right place, then.”

“One of our friends came here some time ago. He, unfortunately, died in a car accident yesterday.”

“Oh, my God. I am so sorry.”

“Yes, very sad. Anyway, would you mind if I showed you a picture of him? I kinda forgot which lot he had rented and I was thinking of maybe taking it for our furniture. You know, get his belongings back to his family.”

“Yeah, sure. I’m the only one working here lately, so I remember most faces that come and go. Something about lack of staff or something.”

Eliza handed her the picture she previously printed. “His name’s Jerome Walton. Was,” her eyes teared up.

“I am so sorry,” the woman said again. Pity tasted almost like cinnamon.

“I know,” she made the tear slip down her cheek. “So shortly after the wedding, too. He was such a good friend and now he’s just gone.”

Matt was completely bewildered.

“That must be so hard for you.” The woman eyed the picture. She caught a glimpse of her name tag. Brenda.

“Thank you for doing this, Brenda,” Eliza said, still crying. “It means a lot. We swore to name our son after Jerome, he even had this little blanket he wanted to give us. I believe it’s in the unit too.”

“I remember him.”

She suddenly had to put more pressure on her powers.

“He came here about a week ago with some ‘friends’. They didn’t seem legit though.”

“Oh, I didn’t know Jerome had friends here in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“They didn’t look too close. He rented this unit by himself a couple weeks ago, and then he suddenly started coming in more often, leaving some things there every once in a while. I’m not sure what was going on. I just hope your friend hasn’t gotten himself in trouble.”

Eliza placed a hand over her heart. “That is so overwhelming,” she sniffled. “Jerome was a good man. I can’t see why he’d come here so often.”

“I’m not sure either, but I can give you the spare key if you want. You have to find it yourself though because it’s against policy for me to even tell you this.”

“You’d do that for us?”

“Of course,” Brenda smiled. “Anything for your closure. I’m sure you’ve got plenty enough trouble already.”

“We do, yeah. I mean, my husband’s blind-“ Eliza patted his cheek.

He laughed awkwardly. “I was born like this,” he told her. “Birth defect. I’ve never been able to see anything, not even my wife’s lovely face.”

His grip around her hip tightened. He wasn’t enjoying this, but fortunately, his charming voice didn’t betray him.

“There’s a chance our children might be blind too,” he added.

Eliza has never been so proud of anyone before. “Yeah, but we make it work, don’t we, baby?” She poked his side.

He bit his cheek. “Of course, sweetheart.”

“Oh, that is such a lovely story,” Brenda almost swooned. Her eyes filled with unshed tears, tears of pity, fake tears. They weren’t real, and neither were her feelings, but to her, they seemed real. “I’m sorry for what you’ve been through. I can’t even imagine!”

She searched for something inside the key box. “Lot 435,” her eyebrows furrowed, “Though his name isn’t listed as Jerome Walton.”

Eliza twisted her finger again. She was fighting it. “What?”

“Yeah, he signed under the name Alyosha Popovich. I don’t know what that means.”

Her head cocked to the side. For a moment, she almost lost control. “That’s his Russian name,” she found her way around it. “He’s not Russian, of course, but my family is.”

That was such a blatant lie, Matt struggled to make out any of her usual markers. Her hand fisted around his suit jacket. The name hit a nerve. She was thinking hard about something.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Brenda said. She used that word an awful lot.

“Yeah, our culture is a bit… different. I’m not orthodox, but my family’s very traditional.”

“Well, if that’s so. Here- “She handed them the key. “And I’m sorry for your loss, again.”

“Thank you.”

As they turned away, Matt leaned in. “What was that?” he rasped into her ear.

“Relax,” Eliza eased him as she eased her hold on Brenda. She slowly slumped back in her seat. “I’m not hurting her.”

“I know that, but it’s risky to use your powers right now.”

“I’m gonna delete the footage anyway.”

“How are you gonna do that?”

Eliza tilted her head. The lines behind the TV screens began to crackle. The energy seeped through it like a worm. And just like that, the feed went out.

“It was a live feed,” she stated. “There are no recordings.”

Brenda slapped the screen. “Damn it!” but at that point, the pair was already out of sight, out of mind.

So that’s how they got there, standing helplessly in front of the maze of storage units. The key dangled loosely at Eliza’s side.

“On second thought,” she said, “Maybe I was wrong.”

“Lot 435,” Matt repeated back to her.

“I know that, I just don’t know where to start. If you could see this, you’d agree. There are like a thousand lockers here. How are we supposed to find this one?”

“I’m blind, Eliza. I can’t help you with finding the number on a door.”

“Wow,” she turned to him. “Thanks for stating the obvious.” She looked at the navigation signs that hung from the ceiling only to figure they weren’t helpful at all.

Eliza pointed right. “Lots 350 to 450 are in that direction.”

Matt folded his cane. “Then let’s go,” he said.

They began to walk in the direction she pointed them to. She checked every row for any indication that they were getting closer, but the path was long, and the finish line was nowhere in sight. After about five minutes of desperately searching, Eliza stopped.

She pushed at Matt’s chest. “We need to go down here,” she said.

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?” he asked.

His dress shoes echoed off the linoleum floors. His plump lips formed a thin line and the muscles of his jaw clenched like bodybuilders during a staring contest. Eliza didn’t miss the obvious distaste that radiated off of him.

“Okay, hold on.”

“What?”

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” he claimed.

“You look like someone just threatened to kill your dog. What’s wrong?”

The glasses hid his eyes, but she knew better than to narrow them down to the upper part of his face. His head tilted ever so slightly, and teeth dug into his cheek.

“Didn’t know you could cry on demand like that,” he said.

“Is this what this is about?” she asked.

“No… yes. I don’t know.”

It slowly started to dawn on her – the look wasn’t one of distaste.

“You played with that poor woman like she’s the Sunday Morning crossword puzzle.”

“And that’s a problem to you?”

“Hearing you talk about your powers is one thing, but experiencing them in action- experiencing what you can do with your mind alone, the mask of pretense you put on just to get what you want, it’s crazy.”

“I know I’m crazy,” her eyes darkened. “The question is just, can you handle it?”

He chuckled, out of breath. “Sweetheart, I’ve dealt with crazier than you,” he said. “What you are is powerful, and that’s much more terrifying than any psycho I’ve ever encountered.”

“You’re scared of me?”

“I’m not scared, you’ve just- You’ve drawn me into your spider web and now I get to watch you play, and all of that, the uncertainty of it all, is breaking my mind.“

Eliza smirked. “At least you’re self-aware.”

“My mind can’t comprehend this. It’s like you’re two entirely different people.”

She shook her head. “You don’t get to do that,” she said. “You don’t get to tell me I’m two different people when you’re the one acting like he’s this catholic good boy during the day and then turns into the devil at night. If you want to blame someone for being two-faced, blame yourself.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He tried to keep his voice down. The sound echoed dangerously loud through the hallway. “It’s just that with you, I never know what I’ll get. I never know who I’m dealing with because you change drastically so damn quick. I can’t predict what you’re going to do next. I should be able to, I mean we’re partners, but I can’t. Every time I think I’ve heard it all, you put another cherry on top.”

“Well, I don’t know who I am either if that makes you feel better. I don’t even recognize the person in the mirror most of the time, so don’t worry, you’re not the only one who’s fucking confused.”

“You’re blocking.” Matt placed his hands on his hips. “I know you, Eliza. I know you’re not fine. I know this is all too much for you, but you keep going because you feel like you have to. That’s the person I know, but this other side, the Avenger, it’s not just a separate part of you. She is you. You only feel brave in moments like this, in moments where you can be in control.”

She crossed her arms. They were really doing this, in the hallway of a storage unit.

“I’m not normal,” she reminded him. The definition of normal went out the window the second she came into the world.

Matt shifted his stance. “In moments like these, you’re this power-hungry creature who thinks she can do it all,” he said. “Whatever it is you can do, it’s scary. It’s scary for people like me who can’t do what you do. I’m not used to it. I’m trying hard to get used to it. I know that if I want to work with you, I have to get used to this, but it just doesn’t sit right with me. God works in mysterious ways but I never truly believed this could actually exist.” He pointed to her hands.

“So I’m unholy now, is that it?” the calm tone of her voice broke the air in the room.

“You’re not unholy, you’re just you. I believe in God – the supernatural is on a whole new level and it’s gonna take time. It’s gonna take time for me to differentiate between you and… and you. Alone me saying that is… I don’t know. It’s a lot. And I’m a blind man with super senses, so I would know.”

A few beats passed. “Okay,” she eventually said.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, okay. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Eliza tried to turn and leave, but keep searching for the right storage locker. Matt grabbed her arm. “Oh no, sweetheart. I’m not letting you off that easy.”

“Don’t touch me.”

“Was it really so wrong what I just said?”

“It’s not what you said, it’s how you said it. I mean, what was that earlier? You only seem to have a problem with me when I do shit like this. After Foggy and I came back, you put your defenses up and I was already wondering what was going on. Is that- were you really scared of me because you saw the lengths I was willing to go to?”

He was searching for the right words.

“Oh, my God! I can’t believe you. And you said we were partners. We fought together in that god-forsaken warehouse. You heard the story about how I killed a child, how I was sexually assaulted by the man who kidnapped me and you still kissed me. You begged me to fix your pain. You know I can do it for you or Foggy, simply fix what you’re feeling, but me controlling a person the way I was actually taught to use my powers is too much for you?”

“Eliza, you don’t understand-”

“I understand. You can deal with me being a vigilante, fighting with my fists, but as soon as I completely rely on my powers or- or whatever illegal things I can think of to accomplish a mission, your understanding stops. I get it. I really do. I just don’t know why it takes us fighting for you to tell me you still haven’t quite recovered from the truth.”

“You know I care about you,” he told her.

“I’m trying to tell you that you can’t have one without the other, Matt!” she said. “You can’t like me one minute and then pull out the other because your brain is fried. You either stand by me completely or not. Make up your mind.”

“Alright.” His jaw was set in stone. “I don’t care if you’re a witch or a goblin or whatever else you might be. Just don’t undermine me again without telling me first. If you want to take control, tell me. Don’t make me look stupid again.”

“Are you afraid that I’m stronger than you?” she asked.

“No.”

“You sure? May I remind you, you’re not wearing your Daredevil suit right now? Which means you’re vulnerable.” She pushed him back. His pecks tensed under her touch, light as a feather and yet strong enough to make him stumble. Or was it her mind that was making him do this? He wasn’t sure what had the stronger grip on him anymore. “You’re right, I want to be in control. I’m power-hungry. All that’s true. You think you’re the only one who can play, Daredevil? You’re God’s disciple and get what you want just by letting the devil out?”

Once again, he found himself pushed back.

“Well, you’re wrong. You can try to force me into submission all you want, but when we’re like this, I’m the one with the advantage.”

He licked his teeth, not his lips. Like a wild predator ready to pull his prey. In the flickering lights of the facility and their height difference, he might’ve just started hunting her. Eliza knew that she would probably lose when it came down to it, but she liked the thrill of it.

“Lot 435,” he stated. His arm extended to the metal door to his left.

Eliza raised an eyebrow. “Impressive,” she said, though her voice said the opposite.

“Don’t lie to me,” he bared his teeth again.

“Why not? It’s been so fun arguing with you.”

Matt’s laugh was almost manic. “I promise you, if you keep this up, I’m going to snap and then you’re gonna suffer the consequences.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

“That’s another lie. I’d be careful now if I were you.”

“Why? What’re you gonna do, kick me out? This is my case as much as it is yours, don’t flatter yourself. I’m not doing this for you.”

“God, you think you’re so smart, don’t you?” he laughed again. “I wish I could keep you restrained for the whole fucking day and make you reflect on the way you just acted."

“Look at you, saying the Lord’s name in vain.”

His head cocked. A dangerous turn, something she'd never seen before. To anyone not accustomed to him or his antics, the simple action would've seemed terrifying, but to her, it was nothing but a satisfying tingle of thrill. Eliza realized he was actually warning her this time. She had to admit, her teasing had been anything but gentle, but the reaction it coaxed out of him blew even her mind.

She grunted, strangled. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said. “It’s not a good look on you.”

He shamelessly took a deep breath to breathe in her scent. “Open the door,” he demanded. The golden-boy smile was back, nothing like the devil that had peaked just minutes before.

Eliza licked her lips. This wasn’t the end. She wasn't sure what had come over her, but she couldn't keep this going for much longer without eventually succumbing to the fire he ignited deep in her chest.

She slid the key into the lock. The door flipped open. Disappointment was the first thing that came to mind.

“It’s empty,” she stated.

Except for a table on one side and a light bulb from the ceiling, the locker was absolutely empty.

“Someone has been here recently,” Matt said. He passed by her and stepped into the darkness. “I can smell their cologne. Three people at least.”

Eliza turned the lights on. “Why is it empty?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Something doesn’t seem right.”

“What if they just used this place to make their deals?”

“Then why rent an entire storage unit? What did Brenda say was the name listed for this place again?”

“Alyosha Popovich.”

“The name means something to you. What?”

She gave in. “Alyosha Popovich is an epic hero of the Kievan Rus era. He stems from Russian folklore. He was a mighty warrior and a trickster; one of three well-known bogatyrs, similar to other medieval knights-errant.“

“Russian folklore,” Matt said. “Do you think this unit might’ve been rented by Hydra? They could’ve used Jerome as a façade.”

Eliza kept her distance, knowing he had his process and she didn’t want to disturb him again. Since she was apparently so distracting.

“Did you know, in Byliny – that’s Russian ballads – he is described as a clever-minded priest's son who wins by tricking and outsmarting his foes,” she said.

So much for not distracting him.

Matt chuckled slightly at the story. “Really?”

“Yeah. He defeated the dragon Tugarin Zmeyevich with trickery. And some say he’s also considered a mocker of women.” Her face faltered. “Mocker of women,” she breathed. The realization hit hard. “This is Ivan’s doing. He did this! The bastard’s mocking me.”

Matt’s head tilted and suddenly locked in place. He lifted his finger towards the wall. “There’s an electrical current running through this wall,” he said.

“What?” Eliza watched as he inspected the wall. His fingertips brushed it only slightly.

“There we go.” He pushed down on something. The buzzing reached enough decibels for her to hear it, too.

“What the fuck?”

The wall, raising itself off the floor, revealed another door behind it. It was locked with deadbolts.

“It’s soundproof,” Matt stated.

“Not surprising,” she said.

“Can you pick the lock?”

“Yeah, sure.”

The wood fell out of its hinge. He nodded. “Or you could do that.”

She searched for the light switch on the left wall of the room. Her fingers hovered hesitantly and yet shook with anticipation. The white neon momentarily blinded her. Eliza placed a hand in front of her eyes to shield her from the artificial, painful lighting. As her eyes grew accustomed to the room, the lump in her throat grew.

For the first time, she cruelly wished blindness upon herself, just so she wouldn’t have to see the danger seeping off the walls like mold.

She sucked the air into her lungs and then it just stopped. Matt was afraid she might’ve died, but her heart was still beating, though irregularly and way too fast for any normal human being to survive.

“Holy fuck,” she breathed out.

Pictures lined the walls from top to bottom. Red threads connected the prints with each other in a carefully thought-out spiderweb. Flashcards with hard-to-make-out handwriting adorned some of them while the rest was painted on with black markers. The entire room was rigged like dominos - kick one over and the whole place might come down.

One side of the wall was covered in at least dozens of pictures of her face. In some, she had barely turned a teenager. The others appeared to be more recent. Eliza recognized the route from her therapist’s office to the coffee shop she frequented. Someone had photographed her on runs in Central Park, on her lunch dates with Pepper, and even on small hang-outs with the Avengers at the bowling alley. All of her official outings were meticulously documented.

Looking further, she caught a glimpse of Wanda’s face. The protests in Sokovia inevitably lead to the Maximoff’s volunteering for Hydra. After the city came down, she joined the Avengers, and someone made sure there were photos of her arrival in New York. The documentation stopped right after Lagos, her face clear as day as she had to stare at the mess she made. Red circled her face and drew upon it, a target. After that, her trail went cold.

Eliza turned. They kept tabs on Bucky too, she realized. Pictures from his time as the Winter Soldier lead to the fight with Steve and Natasha on the bridge, and then melting over into the fall of SHIELD and his disappearance into nothingness. The timeline went all the way to the UN bombing, and his descent into madness just to be reborn again. After Berlin, he was wiped off the face of the earth.

THE WINTER SOLDIER PROJECT.

Wanda offered herself to experiments with the Mind Stone. Pietro died protecting a boy’s life. Von Strucker glowed with pride before the Avengers put an end to him. His name stood somewhere between Wanda’s name and her family history.

Over her own face, Eliza read the bright letters of PROJECT CHAOS. Familiar faces of young children formed something similar to tree roots out of her existence. DECEASED. FAILED. The red circle brought attention to the true victory – Eliza.

The thread connected Eliza to Wanda and those two were connected to Bucky in the middle of the maze. She reached for the card that hung from the center.

Just X.

“There are pictures everywhere,” Eliza said. “Me, Wanda, Bucky… they were monitoring us, even when we thought we were in the clear.”

Matt traced his fingers over the thread above their heads. “What are they planning?” he wondered.

“We started this.”

She stared at the X just a little longer, wishing for it to give her a different answer, to change her conclusion, but her intuition was hardly wrong.

“All of this, I’m the epicenter.” She reached for her picture on the wall. “I did this.”

“That can’t be true.” It was sweet how Matt tried to keep hope for the both of them. To no avail.

“It started with me, the first enhanced person in Hydra history.” She followed the thread across the room. “The Winter Soldier project started long before me, but that was easy work. Just a serum and some brainwashing, nothing quite like what they did to me, someone who was born like this. They took Bucky and then they-“ she stopped at Wanda’s wall, “waited until they got volunteers for what they were planning with Loki’s scepter, and poof!”

Eliza stopped in the middle.

“They made three absolutely powerful creatures. But that wasn’t enough, was it?” she asked herself.

Her eyes stopped at the laptop in the corner.

Matt followed her distinctive movements to the X on the ceiling. “They wanted to combine what they did to you,” he said.

“One of us wasn’t strong enough to make Hydra invincible, so they needed not only two but three blueprints. Me, Bucky, and Wanda. All three of us combined could make the most deadly weapon known to man, easily granting them control over everything they desire. More than just one combination? Now that calls for world domination.”

She should’ve been happier about figuring out the truth, but there was nothing but dread about where the realization came from.

“They could topple the entire government. Destroy what’s left of the Avengers. Destroy the Accords. Cause a Battle of New York similar crisis. They infiltrated SHIELD. Who’s to say they couldn’t get into the White House or the United Nations. Who’s to say half the Secretaries aren’t Hydra operatives? Wouldn’t be the first time. I think they’re preparing for a war they’re going to start.”

Eliza couldn’t wrap her mind around it, or maybe she didn’t want to; either way, her skin crawled at the mere thought of what they were trying to accomplish.

She flipped the laptop open. “Maybe there’s something on the hard drive that can help us figure out who this unit really belongs to,” she said.

Matt appeared behind her, chest pressed to her back. “Are you okay?” he dared to ask.

She merely scoffed. Her fingers danced over the keys, playing the tune to open the doors. The laptop was protected over three different security passwords, set to delete everything at even the slightest misstep. Eliza wasn’t sure if the override would work, though when the laptop finally gave the green light, she felt prouder than ever in her abilities.

An open tab popped up on the screen. “That’s the security feed,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, listen!”

Matt tilted his head towards the speakers. “I can’t hear anything,” he said.

“Exactly. If this were on time, you’d be able to hear our conversation from before or see our faces, but there’s nothing on here. This feed is linked to the front desk. Whoever this belongs to has been playing one and the same footage on loop for at least a week.”

She skimmed through the programming history, but she couldn’t find anything.

“The cameras stopped recording around the same time, but I can’t figure out when this all started. Whoever did this knows how to hide their tracks even on their own device.”

Matt slipped the glasses from his face. His torso ached all over, eyes tired from being awake for so long. He lazily rubbed over them. “So Jerome and his friends could slip in unnoticed, no one would’ve been able to prove it,” he said, voice hoarse.

Eliza met his bare eyes. “This is definitely Hydra.”

He didn’t bother to put his glasses back on. “I’m sorry,” knowing she’d feel more at ease if she could meet his eyes, even for a moment.

She smiled. It was fake. Her attention diverted and he chose to cover back up.

The laptop wasn’t tied to anything. She searched for cables or a flash drive, but the room was void of any of that. There had to be a tracker inside, she figured. Leaving it unattended and untied was amateur work and the room looked nothing like it had been made by an amateur.

She slapped her hand down. “Damn it!” the table nearly broke.

“We should pack it up,” Matt suggested. “Take as much as we can carry and go over it back at my place, see if we can find anything.” He placed his hands on his hips.

“No, I need the laptop,” Eliza said. “I need what’s on it, but I can’t take it without risking our safety. It could take a while to filter out any bugs or tracking devices, time we don’t have. Fuck!”

“Can’t you just take the hard drive?”

“Knowing Hydra, the tracker is the hard drive.”

“How about you pull the information into your phone? You did it before.”

She frowned. “Okay, I’m not gonna spend the little time we have left to explain technology to you because what you just said was wrong on so many levels, but this is different! The whole place is probably filled with booby traps. One wrong move and we’ve got all of Hydra’s soldiers knocking this door down. Or, what’s left of it anyway. No, we can’t risk that. Hacking a hacker’s laptop is like stealing money from the bank.”

“We’re gonna be colored in blue paint?” Matt asked.

“Metaphorically, yeah,” she said. “Even opening this video feed was risky enough. If I could just get in there… If only I had Friday.”

“I don’t think the weekday’s gonna matter much.”

“It’s not- never mind!”

She hated to admit it, but maybe she shouldn’t have given up on Tony that easily.

A phone rang. It wasn’t hers and when Matt didn’t move, his was out of the question too. Eliza looked to her left. The sound came from the first drawer on the desk. She eyed him first, waiting for his silent agreement. He nodded. She dove in. It was a burner phone, the number unknown.

He sensed the glint in her eyes. “Don’t answer that,” Matt warned.

She huffed.

“Eliza-“

The phone flipped open.

“Who’s this?” she asked.

He groaned, head in his hands. She had to do the one thing he asked her not to do. Curiosity killed the cat. A call from a strange phone in an unoccupied storage locker with a secret door and pictures of her hanging all around should’ve been a red flag; Eliza went straight ahead, acknowledged it was there, and then walked right through it anyway. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep her safe with an attitude like that.

The hairs on her arm stood at full attention, the laugh on the other end low, mocking. “You can put the Russian act down now,” he said.

She choked on nothing. The language center of her brain seemed to short-circuit.

“Did I take your breath away, Liebes? Or has your Russian gotten rusty? We can do it in German if you’d like. I’m certainly still very fluent in both languages.”

She kept staring at the only blank spot on the wall across from her.

“Still no? Well, I thought we could have a nice little chat now that you have dug your nose into business you shouldn’t have.”

“How’s this possible?” she asked.

“How’s anything possible? It all depends on your mindset, but you knew that already, didn’t you?”

“I put you away,” Eliza’s fist clenched. “You’re in jail. Frank Mueller, you’re supposed to be in confinement.”

“Oh, I am,” he said. “Unfortunately, that didn’t change. But I have been making amends. I was just waiting for the right time to call you, honestly.”

“The phone, how did you know? Did you put it there?”

“Don’t you want to talk about this in person?” she heard him smirk.

“I’m not here to play games, Mueller. What do you want?”

“I told you, I want to chat with you.”

“I’m not interested.”

“What a shame, considering you’re looking into something that could get you killed if you don’t figure out what it’s about.”

“The fact you knew about this phone - that you knew I'd be here today, looking into this - tells me you’re involved.”

“Not necessarily. I know you'd like to figure out how I know this, how I know that - if you're willing to talk to me, I can answer all your questions. You just have to come and see for yourself.”

“Mueller, you little shit-“ She didn’t even get to finish.

“Nu-uh,” he clicked his tongue. “You and your little friend, Daredevil I believe he is called these days, the masked vigilante running out and about in New York, are moving on dangerous territory, but I’ll allow it if you do something for me in return, little girl”

She looked at Matt. He was even more tense than before. He heard every little sound coming from either side of that phone and it didn’t sit right with him. Eliza touched his arm and tried to take the edge off, but he flinched away. Perhaps someone so riled up shouldn’t be helping someone who was equally disturbed.

She sighed. “What do you want?”

“You,” Mueller stated simply. “Just twenty minutes of your time. I suppose you have questions and I have some, too. We can help each other out, like old times.”

“Fuck you!” she hissed.

“No, thank you. I’d like to see you tomorrow before lunch. You can figure out when that is. If you don’t show, I’ll make your little secret public. If you decide to show though, I’ll reward you nicely.”

She was full-on panting. The anger sizzled off her like a ticking time bomb.

“Who’s to say you’re not behind this, huh? Who’s to say this isn’t just some twisted game of yours that Ivan got you into? You can be evil even out of prison.”

“The last part is correct. But no. Unfortunately, I am not involved. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. That's just one of the downsides of being detained in a little glass chamber away from everyone else. I don't have contacts, I don't have anything other than my books and some walls of glass. Would I be calling you if I wanted you dead? No? You see, child, it's not always as bad as it seems to you. Sometimes an old friend only wants to talk, not hurt you.“

"We are not friends!" She hesitated, “But maybe you're right. You wouldn't call and want me dead. That's not you. I hate admitting it, but it's true.”

“See? We should definitely catch up. I’m already trapped in here, what business would I have in trying to harm you? Certainly not to get the kicks. I couldn't even savor it if I wanted to.” he said. “I just want a little something from you, Liebes. To talk to you, spend time with you. After all this time I've gotten lonely and there are some things that I need you to hear. This is the only time I’ll be asking you this nicely.”

Eliza swallowed her fury. “You said before lunch?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“How about tomorrow morning instead?”

Matt stared at her, completely blank. “What are you doing?” he mouthed.

“Just wait,” she mouthed back.

Mueller hummed in agreement to her offer. “That would be very fitting for me, indeed,” he said.

“Okay, then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. If you dare to even think about breaking the terms of this agreement, I swear to God-“

“No need to swear, I always keep my promises.”

The line clicked, though his laughter kept echoing in her head. The dreaded song that’s playing on the way to your own wake, a tsunami destroying the city of your dreams. The phone snapped in between her fingers. Metal flew across the room. She stared at the mangled device in her clutches.

“Matt, we need to talk,” she said with such tranquility.

Matt still stood there, hands on his hips. The muscles in his arms twitched. He scratched his stubble. Composure was faltering. He could only stand so much.

He exhaled loudly. “What did you do?”

“Not here.”

Eliza took another look around. She had to do something. The evidence hung high on the wall, used as nothing but wallpaper. It all meant something, essentially, and she would’ve been damned to leave it behind.

He must’ve realized what she was planning. Before she could move, his arm shot out. He pulled her aside, finger on his lips, shushing her.

“Someone’s outside,” he said.

She eyed the door. “Who?”

“I don’t know, but they just asked for this lot. We need to go. I got a bad feeling about this.”

Eliza pointed to the chaos. “We can’t just leave this here,” she argued. “What if they take it back?“

She hoped he caught the pleading look on her face somehow. “Alright,” he gave in. “Take what you find most important. I’ll buy us some time. Five minutes, tops. Then you’re out of here.” He unfolded his cane.

She watched in awe as he straightened out his suit. Matt said he didn’t know how to act; the truth was, he knew very well how to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. He did it every day. He put on the same suit and the same glasses every day and made everyone believe he was a helpless blind man working as a lawyer. People believed he took charity cases because he cared. Not a single soul who didn’t know him would’ve suspected him to be Daredevil. Eliza never suspected it and she was trained to do it. He was that good, and watching him get ready to buy her some time without even questioning it proved her point because he didn’t care to be seen – he knew he could sell this without them ever knowing.

“Matt,” Eliza called out.

“What?” he turned around.

“Thank you,” she said.

Silence was the answer. She heard both doors fall shut, leaving her in the barely lit hidden room of the storage locker with all the pictures of familiar faces and files that would’ve taken ages to filter out. Five minutes. It wasn’t a lot but it wasn’t nothing. She could extract a lot in five minutes.

Eliza didn’t waste another second. She began to turn the room upside down. There were several files she threw into a box. She took some of the pictures as evidence. She even picked up the broken burner phone off the ground, making sure the SIM card was still intact. The question about the laptop remained. Usually, ideas came easily to her. She knew her way around technology. She knew how to hack, how to restore information, and retrieve it from servers that seemed impossible to infiltrate. She knew how to do it. She’d learned how to do it. If she knew it, why did she hesitate?

Fear is a paralytic.

“Damn it,” she cursed. The table shook under intense pressure. What would Natasha do?

Certainly not panic. Who was she if not spy first and person second? Her hand swayed in the air before it went down with the biggest ball of electricity she could muster, burning the insides of the laptop to a crisp. The release of energy eased her nerves a little.

Natasha probably wouldn’t have done that, on second thought, but it was the only thing she could think of that made sense. Without a flash drive, there was no other choice but to bring the entire thing back with them. The charge of her powers must’ve burned just about everything inside. Pulling information off a broken laptop was complex, even for her, but not entirely impossible. Eliza put a lid on the box. She had to get out of there.

The faint sound of grunts on the other side of the door caused her to halt. She leaned against the metal to detect the direction of the sounds. The loud thud that followed was unmistakably a heavy body. She considered staying in, but checking the time she knew she had exceeded her five minutes, and there was no other way but to face the music.

Eliza took a deep breath before she opened the storage unit as quietly as possible with the unoiled hinges. She clutched the box tight to her chest, daring to look around the corner for the first time since they had gone in. The sight surprised her - she shouldn’t have been, really, but she still stopped and stared at the suited, glorious backside she had grown accustomed to.

Matt straightened his tie. The cane lay somewhere next to a brunette guy at least half a foot taller than him, knocked out with blood trailing down his nose on the ground. He picked it up, casually, and flipped it back open.

“That was longer than five minutes.”

He dared to scowl at her. She gawked back at him and if she had been more in control of herself, she would’ve said something, but she still wasn’t over the sight before her.

He strutted up to her, his suit perfectly buttoned back up again. There was a soft blood stain on his cheek that he wiped with his thumb.

“Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies,” he said.

Eliza pointed at the guys on the floor, then back at him. “I…”

“Yeah. Come on.” His grip was harsh on her elbow, his steps relentless. She almost dropped the box of evidence in the process. Behind his glasses had to be the wildest pair of eyes - she could only fathom what he looked like without them at that very moment. The adrenaline was as high as the nights he went out as Daredevil, but the comfort of his suit was so far away. It had never occurred to her that he could come out of himself without a mask to protect him.

Matt kicked the backdoor open with his expensive dress shoes. Not a single scratch was to be seen on them. He shoved her out first just so he could lock the door behind them. When the sunlight finally hit his face, her own features darkened. She saw it - she was in for it.

The gravel crunched loudly under them as they attempted to put space between them and the storage unit. By then, someone must’ve clearly found the knocked-out men, or they must’ve woken up and were in an uproar, either way, it was only a matter of time before people - authorities or not - would come to scout the premises. That was something, Matt, out of all people, wanted to prevent.

Somewhere near the main road where the cab driver had dropped them off earlier, he finally stopped. Eliza was out of breath by the time they got there. She met his glasses. He stood with his hands on his lips and it seemed like he was staring holes into her soul. That was supposed to be her job. She couldn’t feel anything though. Her fingertips were numb and her heart kept on racing out of her chest.

He huffed the air out of his nose. An attempt not to growl. “Do you ever think before you act?” he condescended.

“Do I?” Eliza said.

“I’m asking you. Do you ever use your head before you make decisions or do you just think ‘fuck it!’ and go with the first thing that comes to your mind? Because I feel very much compelled right now to walk you back there and have them arrest you.”

She had to correct whatever thoughts she had in the morning - his silent anger was worse than anything else. She missed his yelling, at least to that, she could find an easy reply. The tone in his voice though was dangerous and she knew if she said the wrong thing, she would’ve made things much worse.

He cocked his head to the right. “Hm?” he said. “You know, when I ask you a question, I expect an answer.”

The box wasn’t acting as much of a lifeline as she had hoped.

“Eliza, I am giving you permission to speak. Do not make me force you.”

“I was doing us a favor,” she said. Her voice was quiet. God, it was pathetic, really. She was stronger than him. She could’ve stopped him then and there, but no, she couldn’t. She physically wasn’t capable of teasing him anymore.

Matt laughed. “A favor?”

“Yes! I mean, we needed what was in that storage unit. We needed the laptop. We- we need the answers, Matt. I mean, that’s what we came here for. It was better than doing absolutely nothing if you ask me.”

“Watch your tone, sweetheart.”

Shit.

“Sorry.”

“So you’re telling me you thought about this beforehand?”

“I…” There was no satisfying answer to that question.

“No, you haven’t.”

“You know, I stole that stuff because we needed it-”

“I’m not talking about the fucking evidence, Eliza!” He bared his teeth. “Look, I just want to know, what on earth were you thinking?”

“Is this about the phone call?” she asked.

“Yes!”

“What should I’ve done, not answered it?”

“You don’t just answer a strange phone call in a room full of pictures of yourself and then agree to meet that person, even if you know them!” He was talking to her like he would to a child and it was offensive, but at the same time, she deserved it. Truly. Her actions had been beyond stupid, brainless, and absolutely childish.

Of course, Eliza would never admit that out loud.

“You said you needed to talk. Who the hell was he?”

“Matt, maybe we shouldn’t do it here-”

“No, you tell me now! I deserve to know the truth,” he said. “Who is Frank Mueller?”

She released a set of silent curses. “He was the man who experimented on me when I was a child,” she stated. To say it out loud felt weird, way too real. “You must’ve read his name in my file. I, uh, helped SHIELD put him away for the illegal human experiments after they started dismantling all the Hydra bases. The trial itself is confidential, but I think they’ve mentioned his name somewhere regarding my- my history.”

Instead of experiencing circuit failure again, Matt simply shook his head. “Brilliant!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. I know you mean it, but this is not something you should be sorry for. What you should be sorry for is just making this decision without consulting with me.”

“And how was I supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know, you always find a way for everything, don’t you?”

“I didn’t know he’d call!” Eliza said.

He expected this all to be so easy.

“You could’ve just hung up,” he told her. “It would’ve been the smartest choice. I mean, what the fuck was going in your head, I really want to know because it makes absolutely no sense to me whatsoever.”

“Matt-”

“No. What about the fact he knew you were gonna be here today out of all days? What about the fact that he had the number to a burner phone inside a storage unit with a hidden room that was obviously established to stalk you and your friends? Or that- that this unit obviously links back to Hydra, what about that? And he used to be a doctor for Hydra. He used to be your- He was Hydra, Eliza. And he called you to get you to talk to him because he knew you’d come to both StorQuest and now his prison cell as well. He knew you’d do it because it’s what you do!”

At this point, they were both loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear.

“This isn’t just for me,” she argued. “I protect your ass too!”

“This is not what I’m talking about. You can protect me even when you tell me what you’re planning. I’m your lawyer, you know that, right? So as long as you don’t fire me or Foggy, we’re the ones who have to get you in there tomorrow. We’re the ones responsible for you in a legal sense and I am responsible to you in a personal sense now, too. This is- this was the most foolish decision you could’ve possibly made.” His chest heaved. “But you knew. Oh, you knew I’d tag along, no matter how it makes me feel. And you know that, even now, I’d even go in there for you. Hell, I’d walk through fire for you! These guys- I didn’t know what they were, but the thought of them hurting you was enough for me to beat them senseless. Do you realize what this does to me? What you do to me?”

Eliza gnawed at her bottom lip. He was so much taller in front of her like he could step on her any moment. “Matt, I’m so sorry.”

“This whole thing’s fragile as it is,” he said.

“I know.”

“And you go ahead and put even more cracks in it. When instead, you could’ve just… you could’ve just talked to me and then called him back or- or you could’ve just not answered it and we could’ve made sure we were smarter.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“God, stop it!” There it was, the yelling. Even though she had missed it, she hated it just the same. “Just stop it! Stop fucking apologizing all the time! It is not your fault!”

“Then stop making me feel like it is!”

“I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!”

He choked out a strangled sob at the taste of her salty tears in the dry air. Eliza rubbed her eyes with the sleeves of her - his - shirt.

“Don’t,” he said.

She threw the box at his feet. “Since you know so much better than me, do it yourself!”

Matt grabbed her bicep and pulled her back into his side. “God. Why do you always have to act like such a fucking child?”

She had waited for him to say it, eventually. Everyone ended up saying it one way or another. From him though, it hurt much more. He was the first man who had made her feel like she wasn’t just a stubborn child. Turns out, Eliza had been wrong about so many things.

The second he said it, he regretted it. Her muscles slacked underneath his touch. Even her tears stopped. She simply slipped from his grasp and then she was gone. She didn’t simply disappear; she took the box back, the silent treatment heavy on her lips, and then she turned around and just walked away.

“Eliza!” he shouted after her. “Eliza, please, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it.”

The steady tap, tap, tap of the cane followed closely behind her - Matt refused to leave her alone, but he also knew if he had gotten up to walk next to her, he wouldn’t have survived it.

“Can you slow down?” he asked. She pretended not to hear. “Eliza, can you slow down, please? I’m trying to talk to you.”

She sniffed. “Why don’t you call a kindergarten teacher to do it for you?”

“Eliza, I didn’t mean what I said! I don’t think you’re a child.”

“Of course not. That would make you a pedophile!”

“Come on, this is so not fair. I didn’t mean it!”

“Then why did you say it?”

“Because- I was angry, okay? I didn’t think. This isn’t about your age, I promise. I think you’re the most mature woman I’ve ever met and that says a lot. Just please, slow down! I already feel like a dog for yelling at you, don’t make me look like one, too.”

He breathed a sigh of relief when her footsteps finally ceased. She closed her eyes and waited for the tap, tap, tap to catch up to her. The cane nudged her foot slightly, a silent plea for her to turn around.

“Matt,” she said.

“Hey,” he answered. He kept poking her until she caved. Her red, swollen eyes fell on his fallen face. He was truly sorry and she could see it, which made being angry at him an impossible task. Hell, he was pouting at her. He had been following her for at least a mile just so she wouldn’t be alone, still hoping for redemption, and now his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. How could she ever be angry at a sight like that?

She ground her teeth. “What do you want?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Okay. You done?”

“I get that you’re mad and you have every right to be, but let us take a cab back to my place, at least. I’m pretty sure it’s about to rain any minute now.”

“Then that’s fine by me.”

“Eliza.”

Like on command, the sky tore open. Matt looked back down at his feet with a prolonged sigh. They were going to get wet. But if it had to be with her, he was okay with that.

“Great,” he said more to himself.

She looked at him and he did his best to stare back. Neither of them seemed to want to budge any time soon. The box in her hand was slowly growing heavier.

To his surprise, she turned around and kept walking.

“This is ridiculous. Eliza, you’re gonna get sick.”

“I’m not,” she retorted.

“Yes, you are.”

“No.”

“Jesus!” He closed his cane and undid his suit jacket at the same time. Fuck the distance, he thought. “Here,” he said, not taking no for an answer as he slipped the jacket over her shoulders. She was already shaking. Summer rain is nice, but it has the tendency to surprise with its fall in temperature.

He wasn’t sure how long they kept walking in silence until she finally spoke again. “Your shirt is getting wet,” she told him.

“That’s because it’s raining.”

“You can always call a cab, you know.”

“As long as you won’t get into one, I’m staying. How far is it, twenty more minutes? You know, I could take your box.”

She scoffed. “No.”

“To which one?”

“I can carry my own box,” she said. “And it’s five minutes because we’re not going to your place. I’m going home.”

“S- Eliza, we’ve talked about this!”

“I need clothes.”

Matt realized, “Oh.”

“You can call a cab from my apartment. But until then, I want to enjoy the rain in peace, if you don’t mind.”

He snaked his arm around hers. “I don’t mind the rain,” he said.

She gave the faintest of smiles.

“I don’t mind the rain with you.”

Matt said it so nonchalantly, so casually, she almost missed it.

Two broken people hardly ever make a whole. The pieces are too different, the broken edges on opposite sides of the puzzle. No matter how hard you squeeze, they won’t fit; the picture is inherently wrong, misplaced. Eliza didn’t want to be an unfitting puzzle piece. She wanted both of them in the middle of the jigsaw. She just wanted this to stick – for once in her miserable life, she wanted to be happy. But it wasn’t real, she had said it herself. They weren’t meant to be real.

Deep down she knew they were cursed. She looked at him and she saw all the things wrong with him. Her reflection in his glasses, a broken face staring at a man too good for her. Maybe he was as bad as he was good, but for what it was worth, one thing they had in common: tragedy came easy and they were too blind to see it, no matter how many times they told themselves it was wrong.

What’s wrong feels right until someone gets hurt, and then the glass shatters to the point of no repair. If there was a god, he sure had a shitty way of showing it.

And as the rain came down on them, Eliza wished nothing more than to take back all the things she said - though she never did because there was one thing she was really good at, and it was the process of ruining things beyond repair, and then she would give up, she always did, because all that she was good for was to destroy.

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