#she doesn’t deserve this injustice

[a-spes]

| DEVIOUS LIES — Part one (3.842 words).

| Summary — Anon Request — When your friend asked you out for a drink, you didn't think much about it. Yet, maybe you should've, because that night ruined your life. It has been two years, and you can't stop think about what you lost. Your job, your friends, your lover, and even your mind was left in that motel room.

| Tags & warnings — Avenger!Natasha Romanoff x Avenger!Reader, AoS!OC x Avenger!Reader, Other Avengers, angst without comfort, cheating, mental health issues, suicidal ideations, self depreciation.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three.

“I am really not sure we should do that, Stark”, you repeated for what may be the tenth time since you picked up the phone, “it sounds like a really, really, bad idea, and you know, I am not sure sh~”

“Come on!” he said, cutting short your ramblings.

Your thoughts are racing, your mind imagining all the things that could go wrong. It is an endless series of “what ifs” that is only stopped by Tony’s voice. You both knew that if he lets you think too much, he would lose his battle. It’s a risky plan he wants to drag you in. 

“I am sure you are dying to say yes,” he added when you didn’t answer him, and you could hear his petty smile through the phone. As he sensed that you were about to accept, the man tried to convince you with one last argument, “she won’t know anything, I promise. None of them will, I thought about everything,” he assured you, and you believed him.

He was right, you wanted to say yes, but you couldn’t get yourself to say the word aloud. There are too many ways for it to end badly, and you really don’t need to make your situation worse than it already is. Two years ago, you lost everything. None of your teammates tried to understand your situation, they didn’t give you a chance to explain what happened. Instead, they threw you away from the team, and the tower, without giving it a second thought, as if you were just garbage.

Maybe that’s what you are.

Sometimes, when you think about the events, you surprise yourself by siding with them. It’s easier to think that you deserve what they are doing to you than to accept the injustice of the situation, which you can’t do anything about. After all, the proof was against you. You’ve seen the pictures, everyone has seen them, and they felt so real that your certainties have faltered. How to convince them that you are innocent when you are not even sure yourself? Eventually, you gave in, it is a battle you couldn’t win.

“When is it, already?” you sighed, eventually giving in. An argument against Tony Stark was another battle you knew you couldn’t win.

The man has been the only exception. He has watched over you from afar, and believed your version of the events. For once, he has listened, and it means the world to you. So even if you try to not wince at the enthusiasm he lets out on the other end of the phone, a part of you is happy. It doesn’t matter if things don't go well, at least that would have pleased the billionaire, and you owe it to him, even if you couldn’t match his enthusiasm, too anxious for that.

For a second, you thought about changing your mind. Your fingers were a centimeter away from the interphone, but you haven’t rung the bell yet. It would be so easy to listen to your instinct that is screaming at you to run away. It would be so easy to break the promise you’ve made to Tony, he wouldn’t mind right? Yes, despite the disappointment, he would understand that you couldn’t do that. It was too early and too much. You shouldn’t even have taken that call, it is always a bad idea to trust a billionaire, especially when his last name is Stark.

The last time you’ve set foot in the Avengers Tower, it has been two years ago. You haven’t seen them since, only their pictures in the news. One time, you’ve thought about going to one of those press conferences they hold sometimes, but you knew you wouldn’t be welcome — Maybe they even added your name to the list of bans. You aren’t welcome anywhere near them, they made it clear when they threw you away.

It is as if all the years spent by their side have been erased. Even the world seems to have forgotten your name. It is almost as if you have never been a part of the Avengers, as if you’ve never existed, and it was just something you mind made.

Maybe it’s for the best, you thought.

Yet, here you are. In front of the building you left years ago, promising to yourself that you’ll never come back in here. That day, you felt so humiliated that you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t add the shame to crawl back at their feet, begging for their forgiveness. No, no matter how bad you were craving to throw yourself in their arms, you won’t. Never, ever. Except that, sometimes, circumstances change, and you find yourself unable to refuse your friend’s crazy invitation, despite the dangerousness of his plan.

“Pl- please, ‘tasha, let me ex~,” you were begging the woman. It wasn’t your kind but exceptional situations call for exceptional reactions, and the one you found yourself in certainly was. 

Tears aren’t your style either, nor it’s Natasha’s. Yet, both of your cheeks are stained with them, your eyes reddened. She is angry, and you are frustrated. She is full of hatred, and you are full of despair. But, today, something broke in both your hearts.

“Shut up,” she said firmly, not giving you a chance to explain yourself. She didn’t want to hear a word from your bullshit. None of them want to. “You’ve lost the right to call me that way,” she added, spitting every one of those hate-filled words in your face, “honestly, you’ve even lost the right to talk to me. I don’t want to hear your voice or to see your face ever again. Did I make myself clear?” she yelled. You would have never thought that she could speak to you in such an angry, hateful tone, and yet, here you are.

She has, indeed, made her intentions clear. When you came home, you found your clothes scattered on the pavement in front of the tower. She hasn’t waited for your explanations before deciding to throw all your belongings away. You were quick to follow them, you barely stepped into the building that she was here to drag you out of the building.

You have never seen your loved one in such a state. She isn’t even acknowledging your pleas for her to slow down, or at least to loosen her grip on your arm. But she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care anymore if you were hurt, or if you were stumbling on your feet — If she had to drag you out by the hair, she would do it without hesitating. 

The Natasha that was scared she could hurt you was long gone. She wasn’t the one that swore to protect you anymore, you’ve seen in her gaze that the promises she made no longer stand. She has a stern, harsh expression painted on her face, and it was your fault. She hadn’t hit you, not yet, but you could still feel how her nails are digging into your skin, leaving a mark that will stay for days. It is a reminder of what you’ve lost that day, not that you could forget.

A second later, you collide with concrete. She throws you on the ground, alongside your belongings, with all the strength she has — And she is a former russian spy, so she’s got plenty. The force of the gesture causes you to stumble over your own feet and fall, scraping your hands and knees in the process. You don’t even try to get up. Dejected, you remain on the ground, barely daring to turn around to see her one last time.

“Don’t you dare to come back, you are not welcome here anymore,” she said before walking away, and disappearing behind the doors of the tower. You wanted to say something but the words didn’t come out, nothing you could say felt right.

It is the last time you’ve seen her, and as pitiful as it is, you have long cherished this last contact with the redhead. No matter how violent and hateful it has been, it was still the last time you’ve touched the love of your life, and you missed it the moment she let go of your arm. Her, and her touch. Despite everything, despite the years, you still needed her presence by your side, and it doesn’t matter if your relationship has to be brutal, you are ready to accept anything if it means being close to her for a few more days.

The rest of the team stayed here until you left. Your eyes met theirs, pleading them to at least say something, but you didn’t get the help you were looking for, their hatred toward you matching Natasha’s. Clint, Steve and Sam, they are all people that you thought were your friends, except they didn’t hesitate a second before siding with the redhead.

Steve has been the first one to leave, almost running after the woman. Before they disappear in the elevator, you’ve caught his hand resting on her shoulder. You should be the one to touch her like that, the one to hold and comfort her, but this right has been taken from you, and maybe you deserve it. You broke the trust she put in you, one that she doesn’t grant easily.

You’ve always known it was a bad idea. In fact, since the moment he suggested that you should come to Natasha’s birthday, you’ve had a bad feeling about it. He thought that it would help you, knowing that you had been living in isolation since you’ve left the team, and a part of you believed him. The same part that never stopped hoping that things could go back to the way they were. 

Until today.

If there is something you’ve learned from that experience, it’s that things will never be as they were because it’s nothing more than a pipe dream. The past two years, you have continuously dreamed about that moment, when you would eventually see her again. You’ve even made up a whole apology speech, one that would erase all your mistakes, and if it’s not enough, then maybe you would have begged them until they forgive you — Promises be damned. In any case, it would have ended with a hug with Natasha, a happy reunion after all those years spent apart. 

Except that none of that happened, because reality isn’t fiction, and you don’t deserve a happy ending. To be fair, you could have never imagined that the reunion would go like this, that you wouldn’t even be able to exchange a word with them because they had no idea that you were here. You couldn’t have imagined that the barriers you have built over the last few years would crumble the moment you set foot in the tower that once was your home.

The tears were streaming down your face, hidden behind that ridiculous mascot costume Tony had forced you to wear. He assured you that it was all part of his plan, the one that’s supposed to make everything better, but honestly, you’ve never felt so ridiculous and pitiful than when you put on that costume that’s supposed to look like a cartoon version of Natasha. That is the genius idea Tony’s came up with a few weeks ago ; having you wear a suit so that you could attend Natasha’s birthday party without anyone knowing.

You thought that you were strong enough to face them, but it turned out that you weren’t. There is nothing that hurts more than realizing you are nothing more than a stranger in your own house. An intruder, that’s exactly what you are. You should enjoy the moment, but you can’t, your heart races, fearing they could guess you’re the one behind the costume.

You were watching them from the corner of the terrace where you found refuge after giving them a little show, and you noticed that all of them, without exception, had a bright smile on their faces. You should be glad that they overcame the difficulties of life, right?

Then why is the only thing you are feeling agonizing jealousy?

Because you were slowly realizing that things changed after you left them, and maybe it was for the best. That’s what you’ve heard them saying in an interview they held a few months after your departure — “Yes, the team has undergone some changements, and we believe it’s for the best” — and maybe they were right, because you don’t remember seeing them being so peaceful in the past. They never clearly said that you’ve been banned from the team, nor they talked publicly about the events that lead to your departure, but people weren’t stupid, they guessed that it was because of something you did.

All days are the same since.

You wake up early, but it’s not the sign of a healthy life, only of a light sleep that is disturbed by the slightest noise and glint of sunlight. The thought of a new day only makes you sigh, what’s the point when every day is the same? They are all filled with loneliness and misery, and you are not sure you have the strength to deal with that, so you don’t move an inch, waiting for the night to come again. 

Sometimes, you get out of the bed you’ve been rotting in, but it’s not before you are so hungry that your whole body is uncontrollably shaking. That's the only time you leave the darkness of your flat, when you go to that small shop at the end of the street to get something to eat. You would buy anything and everything here, but especially junk food that can be eaten quickly. Most of the time, it’s PastaBox or anything with chocolate,  the papers piling up in the kitchen as the days go by, but you’ve never had the heart to take down the overflowing bin.

Waking up, rotting in bed, eating a bit if you are really hungry, going back to rot in your bed, then crying until Morpheus comes to get you, that’s now what your days are.

It’s a strange situation. You have mourned people before, but never someone who’s still alive, never your whole life, never yourself. You are still alive. You know it because you are still breathing and your heart is beating, but it feels like you are not anymore. You don’t even want to cry anymore, you are just laying here, waiting for something to happen, anything. Maybe death. Maybe it’ll eventually come for you, and that moment will be the sweetest. It would be a relief, and not only for yourself.

You don’t want to think about the fact that it may not be. What would be the point in suffering if it’s not to get a threat at the end? The possibility that nothing will come after that life feels unfair, and scary. When you are not finding comfort in your death, you are looking for it by imagining a universe where your life with Natasha wouldn’t have ended that way, where none of that happened.

These are the thoughts that lull you to sleep every night, but the next day, when you wake up, the ache in your heart is back. It never seems to fade away, the pain being as strong as it was on the first day. If anything, it got worse. You are aware that every day that passes takes you further away from those ideals, dashing your hopes of getting your old life back. Your despair grew as you realized that all you were doing was pulling away from the love of your life, and there was nothing you could do to get her back. 

What is going to happen when you’re going to forget about how it feels being close to her?

What if you forget everything? Her voice, smile, and the smell of her clothes? 

The few times you are getting out of your apartment, you are walking with your head down, hiding behind the hood of your sweatshirt, and today isn’t an exception. The weather isn’t that cold, but the collar of your sweatshirt is still up to your chin, leaving only your eyes for the world to see. The ones that are fixed to your feet, avoiding to look around.

You used to do that to avoid paparazzi and insistent fans the days you were too tired to interact with the world, but you are now doing it to avoid problems. Your face and name have been all over the news after, and not for good reasons. People had no idea what had really happened, but their imaginations had no trouble imagining the worst and spreading rumors. It has been years, but the world still hasn't forgiven you for things you’ve never done.

In a few days, the way people see you changed drastically. You went from being one of the country’s greatest heroes to being canceled. The smiles turned into hateful looks, compliments into insults, and although no one has tried to hit you, you prefer to keep a low profile. The fall has been painful, but it isn’t surprising.

How could you expect strangers to believe you when even your oldest friends didn’t?

You have never been their favorite anyway, and you are perfectly aware of that. You are not a former spy, nor are you a genius or an enhanced human. You have nothing special, and the world knows your name only because of your teammates. It’s not a big surprise that they prefer them, and decided to side with the real Avengers.

But maybe they’re right. Maybe things are better that way, because you are not sure you deserve being loved. What you’ve tried to say to ‘tasha is true, you can’t remember what happened that night — At least, not the details that matters —, and that is the worst in your situation. The doubt creeping inside of you, and the guilt mixed with the frustration because you're as likely to be innocent as guilty.

Did you do it?

Did you cheat on her for real?

You are walking as fast as you can, only wanting to get home as quickly as possible, shaking your head in an attempt to get rid of those poisonous thoughts. You didn’t stay long at the party, barely half an hour has elapsed before you decided that you had enough. At least you’ve seen her blowing the candles, even if you left without saying a word to the woman. The thought crossed your mind for a second before you decided it was safer not to break the peace she had built up.

She deserves to be happy, even if it means that you are not a part of her life anymore. 

The only trace of your passage that you have left is a black box. You have hesitated to leave it on the pile of gifts, as she would know it was from you, but it didn’t feel right to keep for yourself the gift you were supposed to give her two years ago. It isn’t yours. You wished you could have stayed longer, just to see her reaction when she opens the box, just to see her smile one last time, to make her smile one last time before saying goodbye forever.

That night, you’ve been crying uncontrollably, and so did you the following days until you have no more tears to shed. Gladly, thanks to Fury, you have a bed to spend your days in. The man has been kind enough to pay for your rent until things get back to normal — That’s the promise he has made to you, that he will quickly find a solution. 

A new place for you to work at, in another country, far from everything you’ve known, where you weren’t hated by everyone: that’s the solution he came up with. “The furthest you are from the Avengers, the better it is. At least for a few months, we need things to calm down,” he told you that day, and you agreed. Not that you had a choice because if you had, maybe you would’ve said no. But there was no choice but to accept to leave everything you’ve ever known behind you — Your family, your friends, your memories. 

Did you for real?

That story is sticking to your skin, and the memories to your mind. Whenever you are going, people are glancing at you, and you are sure it’s because they know. Whenever you are going, all you can see is a glimpse of your past, ghosts that are haunting your present. The world will never forget, nor forgive your mistakes, and you understand them, because you don’t think you can either.

Every morning, when you wake up, it is the first thing you are thinking about. Every night, when you are about to sleep, it is the last one, until it becomes an obsession. Except it didn’t give you your memories back. The opposite has even happened, your mind confusing what you remember with what you've been told, trying to fill the gaps.

At one point, you were so desperate that you almost asked Fury, or Tony, if they didn’t have some technology that could help you to recover your memories. You’ve even thought about asking Wanda, but it was impossible to reach the woman, and maybe it’s for the best. You can’t deny that a part of you is scared of what you might find. You’ve once read that, sometimes, the brain keeps some memories away for a good reason — It is a response to trauma.

But for you, you were sure it was alcohol. You don’t remember how many drinks you had that night, but probably a lot if you can’t remember how the evening ended. The last thing you remember is talking with Astrid, one of your colleagues from SHIELD that invited you for a drink. The next time you remember is when you wake up in that motel. From the moment you opened your eyes, everything happened so fast.

You couldn’t take your eyes out of the pictures which were hung up all over the offices, you even kept some of those. But they are the worst. The thing you can see on those, the two of you in that stupid bed, her kissing your throat, and even more, it feels so foreign. Your brain refuses to accept that you are the one in the pictures. Yet, it's undeniable proof of what you've done that night. 

You are so lost that it hurts your brain. 

Sometimes, you wish that someone was here. Anyone that would take your hand, and guide you through this story. Most of the time, you imagine that it’s her, Natasha. That she is here, holding you in her arms, whispering in your ears that everything is going to be okay, exactly as she used to do. 

Then, you realize that she is not here, and everything crumbles again. 

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three.

| Taglist — @m0nsterqzzz, @marvelwomenarehot0

[saerins]

⋆୨ chapter seven ୧˚ till forever falls apart

⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ previous: chapter six - redefines in every way what love is - end ୧˚

⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?

ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 8.8k | ೀ content warnings: fluff/angst, modern au, arranged marriage, rich!sae and rich!reader, jealousy/paranoia, suggestive scenes, mentions of blood/children | notes: we have finally reached the end of infy !! rejoice i will no longer be able to torture you guys with the ending of this hehe but i do hope you all enjoyed this ^_^ & now onto the next !

“I came here to talk to her.”

There’s no speck of kindness left in Sae’s eyes when he looks at what’s left of his former lover. He doesn’t even notice you sauntering up behind him.

“How many times do I need to tell you to leave us alone?” Sae emphasises that last part, uncertain of how else he can possibly phrase it so that she makes herself scarce.

For the first time tonight, Mirin doesn’t even pay attention to Sae. Her eyes look past him, focused entirely on you.

You take your position next to Sae, feeling his hand tenderly grip onto your wrist. At the very least, it gives you comfort knowing that he’s here no matter what’ll happen. Though, judging by the ever slight panic you can make out from Mirin’s face, whatever it is isn’t pretty.

Mirin doesn’t say a word, only stares at you expectantly. Swallowing your ego, you nod subtly. You’re curious.

“I’m sorry,” comes out of her mouth, and you don’t know how to feel. There’s a lot of things she needs to be sorry for, but that’s your personal feelings. Somehow, you doubt it’s related to anything with regards to Sae.

“If that’s all you came to say—”

“Do you know about your parents?” Mirin ignores Sae again, instead looking to you.

Sae’s about to just shut the door in her face when you tug on his hand, stopping him. He’s perplexed by you, but he listens to you just the same.

“Yeah, barely. What about it?” 

Because Sae did tell you briefly about it, about his suspicions on what they’re trying to do. You have to admit, having Oliver and his family’s PI stalk your parents wasn’t on your bingo card this year. And what he’s suspicious of never even crossed your mind. Only because even if they aren’t the best parents in the world, you didn’t think that they’d actually let any harm come upon you.

To think, they would try to take all of the money, not only their own but yours too, in order to save their own asses.

Mirin almost looks like she doesn’t want to say anything, her fingers grasping tightly and desperately on the hem of her dress before opening her mouth and making your heart sink to the depths below.

“The police are coming and it’s my fault and I know I haven’t done anything to earn your trust but can you please let me handle it?”

She says it all in one breath. Hurriedly without pause.

Are the police already that close?

“What the fuck, Mirin?” Sae spits, his grip on you tightening as he pulls you behind him, the vein on his forehead close to popping.

Mirin swallows the lump in her throat and you’re left staring in a daze behind your husband, wondering what you’ve done that was so wrong that you deserved this; your parents, a scorned and jealous ex-lover, legal threats.

“Sae, please,” Mirin’s panicking and you wonder why that is. Correction, you can sense why—it’s plain old regret. Regret caused by rash actions done on impulse. “It’s my fault, I know but we don’t have time. Tabito’s trying to stall them but they’re coming.” Her eyes flicker over to you, and you’d think she’s beautiful if all you’re seeing isn’t just red.

You feel the injustice creeping up inside of you, threatening you to take action. “And why the hell should I trust you?” Your tone is harsher than you ever thought you could go, and even Mirin shrinks back at the venom she senses laced inside your words.

And usually you’d feel bad for it but someone has already called the cops on you for something you didn’t do and that someone is right in front of you asking you for the same trust she wouldn’t have afforded you if the roles were reversed. If you didn’t have any self control, you’d have slapped her by now.

Mirin’s about to say something when she hears seven tight raps on the door. As Sae reluctantly moves away to open the door, Mirin whips her head towards you one last time.

“Please.”

The last thing she deserves is a chance. You know that. Both your head and your heart are in the same place for once and yet why can’t you act on it? Why can’t you just tell her to shove it up her ass?

“Y/N,” Sae calls your name, hushed because you presume he’s just as cautious as you are.

Slowly, you nod your head, signalling for him to open the door. You don’t know what Mirin is planning, or whether all this is part of her evil plot to take you down somehow.

When the door opens, you see Sae’s friend, Karasu, stepping in first before a detective, a dirty blonde with dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t slept for days. Behind him, two policemen stand guard, watching you cautiously, as though you might try to jump out the window just to run from them.

“Are you Y/N?”

The detective is addressing you, and you’re sure he’s only doing it out of courtesy because these people always do their work before nabbing their supposed targets. Beside you, Mirin steps one step forward, her earlier panic expertly masked by a puzzlingly professional expression. From your line of sight, behind where the detective stands, Sae tries to move toward you, only to have Karasu reach out to grab his wrist and keep him there, a subtle shake of his head as the only signal for him not to make any moves.

“I am,” you respond, because any under or overreaction would only prove to make you look guilty.

“What is this about, detective?” Mirin asks, a casual aloofness donned on her face now. You’re impressed by just how quickly she can change her moods.

“Oh, it’s you, Ms Seto,” the detective says, realising who she is, and you don’t doubt how influential her father’s been to all of Japan with his work. Immediately, his face softens and brightens up, as though it’s imperative that he stay on their family’s good side. He probably assumes that just because Mirin’s here in this hotel room that she’s close to you. “We received an anonymous tip regarding Ms L/N’s family here, as well as her possible involvement. We’d like to take her down to the station for some questioning.”

So that’s what Mirin had done to you. She had tried to pin part of what your parents are doing on you, too. You nearly scoff if not for the fact you know that the two policemen behind are watching you like a hawk. Mirin is the one who scoffs though, crossing her arms like she’s been through these situations a thousand times.

Beside you, any trace of guilt is absent from Mirin’s expression because apparently, and you don’t doubt it, she’s a very good actress. If it’s up to you, you’d say that her talents are wasted since she’s not one. And while your stubborn ego wants to solve this for yourself, you’d never even gotten in trouble with the local police before for anything, and something tells you that Mirin is way better than you are at this, so you keep your mouth shut and let her handle this like she asked.

“So you have no proof of any sort that she’s complicit in any illegal activities?”

The detective chuckles helplessly, like he expects Mirin to be that attentive. “No, not until the anonymous tipper provides us with what they say they have.”

Mirin’s expression falters just slightly for a split second before she’s back to normal. “So no concrete proof, then?”

“No, ma’am.” The detective seems a little laid back around her—are they family friends? Sure seems like it to you.

“Then I’d appreciate it if you don’t treat Y/N here like she’s some sort of criminal. We wouldn’t want anyone seeing her being escorted into a police car and making assumptions, would we?”

Behind him, Sae seems to have relaxed a little, lacking the earlier blind hostility he held. Maybe it partly has to do with whatever Karasu whispered to him right before this. Still, he’s as surprised as you are that Mirin’s committing herself to covering for you.

“Fine, we’ll meet at the station then,” the detective says, the mirth still on his face as he bids a temporary goodbye.

When all that’s left are the four of you, Sae immediately takes his place beside you, his hand possessively gripping your wrist, an accusatory look thrown in Mirin’s direction. “You did all of that just to mess with my wife?”

Mirin’s expression falters when he uses that term again, for you, because deep down, she still wishes for it to be her. She still wishes for that guy she fell in love with and made all those plans with to be hers. Hers, and no one else’s. But it’s evident enough that no matter how much she tries, even if you somehow ended up dead, it would never be her. He’d rather wait for the ghost of you than live with anyone else.

Karasu walks over, settling himself between the divide. He’s the one who seems the most sane, given this has almost nothing to do with him. “Sae, leave it for now,” Karasu advises, blocking Mirin’s line of sight. You presume he’s just doing it as a favour, maybe to simmer Sae’s anger, because you can feel his hands trembling with rage even as they hold on to you. “We need to get Y/N to the police station before this gets any worse for her and her sister.”

Your throat goes dry. “My sister? She’s been taken in too?”

How ironic that you were doing all this just to protect her from the harsh reality that your parents never loved either of you.

Karasu nods apologetically. “My sources say she was taken in about half an hour ago, but discreetly.”

The passive anger that was only settling on the surface seems to finally boil over, and you thank god that Sae is holding you back from possibly harming Mirin. Otherwise, you’d have probably punched her right now.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Her voice is timid and she’s trembling but you don’t hold an ounce of appreciation for her earlier actions nor sympathy for her current emotions. This was all because of her. Her, and your parents, and you doubt you’re enough of a saint to forgive either parties.

“If anything happens to her, I’ll make sure you regret it.” Your words are a warning, and Mirin takes them in silently.

Maybe you have been too nice, and way too passive. To the point where people like Mirin felt like they could try their best because they had nothing to fear. At the very least, it still comforts you knowing that Sae was never trying to get anywhere with her. If not, it was the very opposite, though you still didn’t appreciate his lack of communication.

“Hey, I’ll drive us there, okay?” Sae tells you softly, his hand tugging yours gently, briefly washing the anger off of you. When you face him and nod, he smiles, his hand coming up to place your head against his shoulder as he walks you to the car, Karasu and Mirin trudging wordlessly behind. You let him lead the way, finding an odd sense of comfort, different from before.

Now, you know that Sae will protect you unconditionally. He’s been doing it up until now, even when you weren’t his favourite person. Despite his shortcomings, despite the fact that he had no obligation to, Sae was always on your side.

And maybe now you can see a glimpse of the future you imagined, the one where you get unconditional love, the one where you can see a happy family who’s not just obsessed with money. A proper one, with its very foundations built on love and not control over another.

When you get to the carpark, you see Mirin getting into Karasu’s car, and you silently thank him for going out of his way to get involved in all of this. The last thing you need is to be able to see Mirin in the rearview mirror of your husband’s car, sitting there as though she deserved any sort of comfort. If you could, you’d stuff her in the trunk and tell her to deal with it.

However, even without her there, both of you stay relatively quiet. Maybe because neither of you have ever been in this type of situation; neither of you know what to say. Even so, as he pulls in to the parking lot of the station, he takes your hand, squeezing it gently, his teal eyes gentle as they fall into your gaze.

“No matter what, I promise you, I’ll protect you, okay?”

You don’t doubt his words. You nod, squeezing his hand back, tightly because you’re more nervous than he is. You’d probably have to face the interrogation alone, or at the most with Mirin, and who knows what she might pull in there?

“Hey, hey,” he calls out to you softly, his other hand coming up to your cheek and turning you to face him, his forehead pressing against your own, eyes still locked on yours, his smile the gentlest you’ve ever seen. “We’ll get through this. Whatever you decide, whatever you want to do, I’ll take your side, okay baby?”

Maybe it’s the way the pet name so easily rolls off your tongue, but you still find your heart skipping a beat at such a simple gesture.

“Ready?”

You take a deep breath, nodding.

“Ready.”

While you’re in the room with Mirin and the detective, Sae finds himself pacing the waiting room restlessly despite Karasu’s attempts at calming him down.

The raven-haired man cocks a brow, amused by what he sees because Itoshi Sae of all people getting restless is always interesting. Usually, he doesn’t even get to see Sae bothered at all. The last time he saw that sliver of emotion was, well, back when Mirin left.

“Dude, relax, your wife will be fine.” That’s all Karasu can offer now, pointless words of assurance. Though he can argue he’s been plenty useful when calming Mirin down back at the hotel. 

Sae shoots him a warning look. “With Mirin in there?”

Karasu sighs, leaning back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t recall knowing when exactly things got so fucked up between them.

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck was up with her, I’ll be honest,” Karasu explains, the only person there with any hint of pity for Mirin. “She fucked up, she knows. And you don’t gotta forgive her, really. If it were me I’d have handled it much less classier than your wife did. But trust me, Mirin’s trying to make up for it right now, okay? We can’t do anything so relax.”

Silence falls over them for a while, the sounds of the landlines ringing and clacking of keyboards the only things they can hear.

“What did you say to make her regret it?”

Because Sae’s at the very least curious about why she was so quick to rescind her punishment for you.

His friend shrugs, “is it hard to believe it could be something as simple as realising she didn’t wanna lose you completely?”

The earlier hostility leaves Sae’s body, only a bitter upset lingering behind. Because he can believe it, because at the core, Mirin’s always been simple. The way she acts out, not so much. She’d already alienated Sae by having been the object of his affection once, and that was not her fault, but she’d exacerbated it by acting completely out of line. On the tip of her impulsiveness was just the last chance to either possibly redeem herself or risk thorough destruction of whatever was left of their entire relationship through the years.

Maybe it’s heartless of him, but he doesn’t care. Yeah, he should’ve handled it better in the beginning. He should’ve just told Mirin that he doesn’t want to be someone who wrecks his own home, even if it didn’t feel exactly like home back then. But you didn’t deserve the anger she placed onto you. After realising his feelings, that was where he drew the line. 

He doesn’t give a shit if Mirin woke up and regretted her actions. He doesn’t care if she’s trying to make up for it and save you. All he cares about is you and just you.

Sensing the tension in the air, Karasu forces a lighthearted chuckle. “What kind of magic does Y/N have to make someone like you so whipped, huh?”

There’s a pink hue to Sae’s cheeks at the mention of it, forcing him to look away as Karasu snickers at him.

“Look… don’t get mad, okay? But… do you think it’s possible she knew about it all?”

Never in his life has Sae’s fingers curled into a fist so fast, nails digging into his palms so hard, and Karasu has to throw his hands up in the air in surrender. Both of them know that if anything happens, they’re going to be recorded—and then the media will see it. And then everything will be taken out of context.

It’s routine at this point.

“She had nothing to do with it, so shut it.”

Does Sae know for sure that you don’t? Of course not. He doesn’t have evidence to support you, except that your parents left you behind. If your family’s really twisted, it could all be a part of some ploy. But Sae likes to think he knows you; you’re not sick or twisted. You’re kind and beautiful and trustworthy that he’s not even going to entertain the idea that you knew anything.

It isn’t long after that Sae spots you walking out of the interrogation room, down the corridor and back out to him. For the most part, at least you look fine. You’re trembling a little, so he clasps his hands over yours, holding you to him and kissing the top of your head.

“Hey, you doing okay?”

You can only manage a weak nod, but that’s enough for him. This situation can be a bit much for anyone. He holds you close like that, his warm body cloaking your own. You hate how it’s so easy for you to calm down when he’s here with you, and even if you’d like to condemn him for making such a whirlwind for your life you know it’s not technically his fault.

It was your parents who forced you into this marriage, or else you’d never have met Sae at all. It was Mirin who took it upon herself to try and ruin everything when Sae had refused her. And it was definitely your parents who took all their money and ran before they could get caught for multiple counts of fraud and embezzlement.

All Sae ever did was save your own money, all thanks to making that joint account. Otherwise, your parents would’ve made off with your money too, leaving you with no cent to your name, all properties seized.

You hold him a little tighter now, the tiff over what you thought was going on between him and Mirin seeming so stupid in comparison. Your own parents abandoned you and your sister, looked at you as just a pawn to get what they wanted. You don’t even know how you’re going to face Sae’s parents now that this happened.

A minute later, Mirin also waltzes out of the room, her feigned arrogance still present because the detective is still there. You gaze at them out of the corner of your eye; things only went so easy there because Mirin played her family’s cards right, and now both you and your sister are free to go.

In normal situations, this is where you thank her. But nothing about this is normal, and this was a situation partly borne out of Mirin’s impulsiveness. So all you manage is not paying her back with a slap.

“If you hear anything—”

“We’ll call you,” Sae cuts the detective off, his grip around you getting tighter.

Even if everything had been rocky earlier tonight, you find yourself comforted by the way you just know that Sae would protect you no matter what. You don’t even have to ask him, and he’d do right by you. For a moment, you wonder if this is the kind of unconditional love you’d always wanted.

“Hey, are you okay? Wanna go now?”

Sae’s voice is softer than you thought he could ever be, and all you want to do is melt into his embrace without thinking about anything but unfortunately the world is never so kind and neither is your mind because there’s a thousand questions running through it.

“Where’s my sister?”

“I got her to wait in Karasu’s car with her boyfriend. His car has more privacy and I thought it’d be best if no one outside could picture us.”

Right, because there are already some reporters who got hold of the news and are waiting right outside to ambush you into answering their questions. It’s all sorts of fucked up but you presume your parents are worse so you can’t really say anything.

Sae starts to lead the way to the carpark, his hand never leaving your side. He makes sure to look around, make sure nobody’s there to ambush you. Behind you, you can hear Karasu whispering things you can’t hear, probably to Mirin.

“That would mean there won’t be any space for her, right?” You ask, your mind still doing flips back and forth between being the bigger person and being petty about it. Because you’d love to be as ruthless as she once was to you, but ultimately, you don’t want to feel like you owe her anything.

As you reach the car, Karasu unlocks it, and Sae opens the back door, your sister sound asleep on the other side, her boyfriend muttering a soft ‘hello’. They both look tired, and you don’t blame them. At least you had Sae to warn you about what was going on, but to them it must’ve been a shock, especially for your poor sister who’s always been sheltered against the horrible things your parents could do.

“It’s fine, she can take the train,” Sae mutters, purposefully loud enough for Mirin to hear and hopefully get the hint.

Karasu’s about to suggest otherwise, but you interject—you’re pretty sure you’re the only one Sae will listen to now anyway. Even if Karasu tries to say anything, there’s a high chance that it’ll go ignored.

“She can sit in the front,” you say, because despite knowing better, it’s always been in you to try and be nice.

“Thank—”

“If she ends up getting pictured, it could blow back on us anyway,” you mutter coldly, because being nice doesn’t mean you have to make it apparent. There’s no one here you have to impress anyway, and Sae probably knows you’re just trying to hold it together for yourself, so you won’t have any regrets.

Like you predicted, Sae’s not all for it, but he doesn’t say a thing, following after you into the backseat, squeezing and trying not to wake your sister. Mirin doesn’t say a thing the whole way back, she only thanks Karasu for driving her back and leaves. Neither does Karasu say a thing, awkward silence hanging in the air as you catch him casting quick glances at you and Sae in the rearview mirror.

“Thanks for taking care of her,” you whisper to your sister’s boyfriend as he carries her out of the car. You didn’t get to talk to her all night, but that’s fine, you suppose she needs a long rest after everything she found out tonight.

He shoots you a helpless smile after he presses a kiss onto her forehead. The way he looks at her alone could make people believe in love, and you’ve never been more thankful that you tried your best to protect it. Among everyone, your sister’s always been good and kind, and even if you’ve never seen her around that much after university started for her, you love her all the same.

“You sure you don’t wanna wake her?” He asks you, quietly so he doesn’t disturb her. “She said she missed you, you know.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, I’ll call her when things settle down,” you assure him, managing a genuine smile. “Take care of her, okay?”

Behind you, Sae smiles to himself when he figures out he must’ve married an angel, must be the luckiest man in the world. Despite everything that’s happened, you should be taking care of yourself, yet you managed to make sure Mirin got a ride home, and that your sister is in good hands. You’re a much bigger person than Sae can even dream to be and yet somehow, you chose to put all your effort into him and this marriage and even if he can’t tell where this will go from now on, he’s not going to give up on you.

When Karasu pulls out of your sister’s apartment parking, Sae slides over to your side, sitting himself on the middle backseat, putting an arm around you and gently placing your head in the crook of his neck. Then, only then, do you let your tears go, sobbing into his chest because you’d been holding back all this time, and Sae wonders if you do this a lot on a daily basis; put on a brave face as though you need to pretend you’re something you’re not. Though, if this was happening to him and Rin, he would be doing the same thing you are.

In the driver’s seat, Karasu finally understands why Oliver’s been saying Sae is a changed man. Even back then, with Mirin, Karasu doesn’t recall Sae being this gentle. Maybe it’s because he’s older now, or maybe it’s just because of you—the fact that it’s you, that’s why Sae is like this at all, a privilege only for a special person.

“Hey man,” Karasu calls out to Sae after you get out of the car. He smirks when Sae looks over at him, very much like a hopeless man in love because out of the corner of his eye, Karasu can tell that he has his hand in yours, keeping you there. Since when was he ever this clingy? “Congratulations.” Something he didn’t get to say because he wasn’t at the wedding.

But at least saying it now, he can really mean it.

Sae smiles subtly, but your head pops back into Karasu’s field of view before your husband can say anything.

“Hey, Karasu, right?”

He looks surprised, but he smiles at you all the same. “Yes, I am.”

You grin at him, and Karasu can already tell Sae’s a lucky man. Pretty wife, and from whatever Oliver’s mentioned, it sounds like you’re a keeper.

“I just met you tonight but… thank you, really,” you tell him, and he chuckles. 

You’re really something, because even Mirin had mentioned it to him earlier when she was having a full-on breakdown, when he had asked about you. Karasu thinks that it would just be a lot easier to think screw everyone and just focus on yourself, but apparently, not for you. Maybe he understands a little more of why Sae can’t help but fall for you.

“That’s a lot of shit to unload on someone who didn’t exactly steal Sae from you,” Karasu remarked, trying his best to steer Mirin in the right direction.

Mirin clicked her tongue, annoyed because she knew she wasn’t exactly acting with common sense. All she had wanted was to remove you from the picture, through any means necessary. So why? Why was it that whatever she tried would backfire on her? Why was it that no matter what, Sae would never give up on you? Where was the guy that so easily gave in when Mirin had suggested a breakup?

Why did she have to teach him everything only for you to get everything she ever wanted?

“Look, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but if you keep doing this…” Karasu trailed off, sighing as he looked away, scratching his head. “You’re really gonna lose every ounce of a friend you could possibly have in Sae.”

Mirin kept quiet for a while, then, as if she was considering something. Back then, Karasu hadn’t even known that anonymous tip she sent in to the police. If he had, he would’ve definitely acted faster.

“Is that Y/N even that bad of a girl?” Karasu thought out loud, wondering why there was all this trouble over you and Sae.

And for the first time since she got back to Japan, Mirin was completely honest with herself.

“No, she’s not.” (It was so quiet, Karasu had trouble deciding whether it was just the figment of his imagination.)

Because what had you ever done to her except unwillingly be placed in the middle of their by-then non-existent relationship?

“At your service, ma’am,” Karasu responds, grinning at you when he says his next words. “And don’t worry, I’ll keep Mirin in check.”

You still for a moment hearing those words, then pout at him before you slowly retreat out of the car, pulling Sae with you. You’re not even sure why you can find it in yourself to be worried for someone like Mirin who tried to screw you over. Maybe it’s because Sae had told you about her parents, about how she just didn’t have anyone and leaned on Sae for support out of habit. Somehow, Karasu’s words manage to comfort you a little bit; at least you knew that there was still someone else looking out for her. Your empathy is there, but that doesn’t mean you want to forgive her or even think about it.

Karasu laughs at your subtle reaction, rolling down the window, “hey Sae, your wife’s kinda cute,” he teases, and you see why Karasu managed to calm Mirin down back at the hotel. Whatever he did, it was definitely effective. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he oozes sincerity despite his jokes, something you can’t really say for Oliver and Shidou.

Beside you, Sae uses his body to block your line of sight as he flips Karasu off. “My wife, go away,” he quips, and you can only watch as Karasu laughs it off while he drives away from your apartment.

The moment you’re back in the house, Sae sets your bag down slowly on the couch, and you pause right before you enter the bedroom. Everything somehow feels light yet awkward and it feels like you’ve been through so many emotions in the span of one night and now it’s already 2am and you’re tired but it’s not like you can sleep right away with all these thoughts in your head.

You feel Sae’s chest press up against your back, his arms wrapping around your chest. Now that you know he’s never actually even cheated on you, or even thought about it, it’s like a huge weight has been lifted off your chest.

“What’s on your mind?” There’s a strain in his voice, and you can tell he’s gotten a cold just from tonight alone.

You sigh. “I don’t know if I can handle all of this…” you mutter honestly. Everything has just been too much. It was manageable back when you thought your marriage was the only thing in ruins, but to learn now that your parents are wanted fugitives and the fact that they’d leave you and your sister to clean things up and bear the brunt of being damned just for being their kids is a lot to take in for one night.

“You know I’m here for you whatever you need, right?” Sae asks, holding you tighter, pressing a kiss on your temple.

You want to be soft for him so bad, you want to melt into his touch and let him comfort you and hug him to sleep, but can you really afford it right now? Can you afford letting him feel that everything is fine after keeping everything from you and driving you to the point of thinking about divorce?

It’s not normal. It shouldn’t be.

And while you appreciate what he’s done for you in secret, that’s exactly what you’re not so sure about—secrets. You’re husband and wife, and if there’s going to be any hope moving forward, you can’t have him try and bear the burden of knowing alone.

“If you ever keep something like that from me again, I’m not giving you another chance,” you tell him, your voice quivering but he listens to you seriously all the same. It’s times like these where you appreciate that he isn’t the type to be joking around all the time. He’s serious when you need him to be, and that means a lot to you already.

“I promise you, I’ll talk to you, whatever it is,” he says, slowly turning you around, his fingers gently gripping your chin, tipping your head up to face him. “I meant what I said, by the way. I love you, Y/N, and I’m sorry I was being stupid. And I’ll try to make up for it, however long it takes me, okay?”

This is a first for you that it makes you emotional. For your entire life, you feel like it’s been you who’s been the one trying to take care of other people’s feelings and needs so much that you step all over your own. For your entire life, no one has cared about you so much so that they’d actively try and take care of you. Everyone lets you take care of everything yourself without thinking that it’d be nice to offer you help even if you looked like you didn’t need it.

For your whole life, you’d wondered how it would feel like being loved by someone who wants to take care of you just because. And here he is, making you feel like you’re loveable, like you’re worthy of being treated like a princess, like you don’t have to mask who you are to get his love because no matter what you do, his love overpowers it.

“So don’t leave me, okay?” Sae’s lashes flutter against your own, his teeth clenched because he’s thinking of how close he was to losing you and he would’ve never forgiven himself if you did.

And maybe it’s the way you realised he’s loved you in his own way all this while, or maybe it’s the way he keeps you so close to him now, so afraid of losing you, that you feel it’s okay to let yourself go, to let yourself be you, to wear your heart on your sleeve because no matter what it is, Sae will take care of it.

“I love you, Sae,” you whisper, both of you with your eyes closed, breaths mixed together, Sae subconsciously pushing you into the bedroom because he never realised that such simple words from you would ignite such an urgency inside him.

That night, for the first time, you experience Sae’s love for you. The way it’s so subtle, so gentle, a complete opposite of what you initially thought he was. The way he holds you in the palm of his hands and takes care of you completely; a dream you thought you’d never live to see come true. So many people go their whole lives being stuck in a relationship that they find lacking and yet here you are, getting everything you need and want and you don’t even have to ask for it because Sae knows you well enough to give it to you.

In the dim light of the moon that makes it into the slivers of your blinds, Sae marks you as his own, and even though neither of you have been through it, it feels right. It feels so right even when you’re lying in bed together after everything, legs tangled together underneath the blanket, bare bodies enveloping one another as the exhaustion finally kicks in.

Sae watches you as you fall asleep, finger lightly brushing your arms and lulling you to sleep. There’s a lot he still doesn’t understand about relationships, and the only form of experience he had seemingly meaning nothing in the face of his actual love, yet he’s strangely motivated now. There’s no way he’s going to let anything, much less himself, fuck this up.

No, he’s going to do his best to keep you happy, to take care of you and make sure you don’t have to be the one who acts strong all the time just to appease everyone else. He’s going to make you smile everyday because you deserve it, and he’ll do anything to make sure that happens.

Anything.

“She had nothing to do with it.”

Of course, Sae’s parents didn’t take too well to the news. One night isn’t enough for it to blow over, because the moment they got the news, they were here to get to the bottom of it. As expected, you received nothing but accusatory remarks, and unlike Mirin’s, at least Sae’s parents had the right to be upset.

Still, Sae’s standing up to them, a protective arm keeping you behind him, making sure they don’t throw daggers at you.

They’re angry, but they’re not as bad as your own parents. At the very least, his father isn’t throwing a tantrum and breaking silverware. Doesn’t even look close to it. He only crosses his arms in disbelief, the vein on his forehead threatening to pop.

“Are you sure you want to defend her?” He asks his son, scoffing. “You know how bad of a reputation we have now thanks to her parents?”

“He’s right, honey, if you want to divorce her now we’d fully support you,” his mother joins in, and she’s every bit as submissive as your own mother, you bet. Anything for their money bag.

“I’m not divorcing my wife ever, so if that’s all you came to say, you can leave.”

Suddenly you feel guilt for being the one to bring up divorce in the first place.

The argument goes on for a while, and you keep quiet all through it. Only because Sae asked you to. It’s fair; he wants to handle his parents, so you’ll trust him to it. If there’s a need, you’d interject anyway.

Like right now, when you realise that maybe your silence is making things even worse, like your admittance of guilt.

“I’m sorry for what my parents did,” you speak up, bowing ninety degrees because as much as you hate their actions, you want to help Sae as much as you can. He must hate talking to his parents as much as you do, so the least you can do is alleviate that. “I really didn’t know what they were up to, and I didn’t expect it to affect your family’s reputation as well. I can’t even begin to repay you for what my parents did, but I can offer you everything I have now, and I’ll do anything you want me to.”

“Then easy, leave—”

“Except leave your son,” you affirm, straightening up and looking them in the eyes. “We love each other, so we’re going to make this work.” Beside you, a smile tugs on the corners of Sae’s lips at your declaration. Are you really the same person who used to be so meek in front of yours and his parents once upon a time? “As for my parents, I’ll let the authorities do their work and capture them. As far as I’m concerned, they’re dead to me.”

Perhaps it’s because of your strong words, but the Itoshis leave not ten minutes later.

You flop down on the couch, an exhausting morning followed by an exhausting night is entirely too much for you. Sae shamelessly lays himself down on top of you, head resting on your chest. He must still be tired, judging from the bags under his eyes.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbles, fingers absentmindedly playing with your hair. “You were pretty hot, though, sticking it to them.”

You stifle a laugh, though your smile speaks for itself. “Guess we should’ve expected that. They got conned out of their money too, after all. Wonder when this is all gonna blow over,” you sigh to yourself, just wishing that the problem would disappear.

Over the course of the next few days, you received texts from colleagues asking what happened, and Sumi in particular loves to cuss your parents out over text and then apologise for being insensitive afterwards. It carries a sense of normalcy that you needed, though.

It takes a few months before everything completely settles down for you, until your sister has come to the realisation that your parents abandoned you and deserve whatever hell they’re going to get. It doesn’t stop her from saying yes to her boyfriend when he proposes, and you and Sae watch on lovingly as she leaps into his arms and kisses him silly.

“You know what, a family like this doesn’t suck so much either,” you ponder out loud. All you really need is just your sister, and Sae—both of them have never failed you after all.

Sae puts his arm around you, holding you close like he always does. You notice that; that when Sae loves you he’ll crave your proximity everytime. Sumi likes to joke that he’s too clingy, but you like him just like that.

Seeing the scene unfold in front of them, your eyes twinkling as you watch the movie-like proposal in front of you, Sae feels just a pang of guilt.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give that to you,” he mutters, though he already knows you don’t mind. To you, what matters the most is that the both of you are still together, still happy.

And that’s exactly what you say with your hands wrapped around his neck, kissing him with those perfect lips of yours, pulling him in so naturally without having to do anything.

“You give me more than enough, Itoshi Sae,” you whisper, oblivious to Sae falling even more and more in love with you.

“Have I told you I love you?”

You chuckle, nodding and Sae’s completely taken by your grin.

“We love you too.”

“We?”

And when you break it to him, in a hushed whisper because you don’t want to ruin the proposal, Sae gives you the most lovestruck expression you’ve ever seen.

THREE YEARS LATER

A lot has changed.

Turns out, you’re not as cold-hearted as you thought. Mirin is still on the list of your least-liked humans, for sure, but it’s not like you care enough to harbour any resentment anymore. She’s not worth vexing over, and much less so after that one time years ago when she came over to personally apologise. You haven’t officially forgiven her, but you don’t particularly wish the worst upon her. You’re not even sure where she is or what she’s doing because Sae doesn’t care for keeping in touch with her, but you’re both indifferent about her now.

Reo had apparently met someone special last year when he attended a charity gala. You’ve never met her in person, but from the pictures Reo takes and shares on his socials—all to show her off, no doubt—she looks absolutely breathtaking. He was there with you throughout the whole fiasco too, lending his family’s support to weather you through the tough times. You’re happy he finally found that special someone. From his texts, sometimes it seems rocky, but he’s “pretty sure she’s the one,” and you’re honestly happy for him.

Your parents have been caught—apparently, a year out they’d tried to seek shelter with one of their friends only for them to tip the police off. It wasn’t even like you, but you visited your mother in jail, just out of curiosity, and the only thing she had begged you was to help them get a good lawyer. Not that you didn’t expect it, or that it would make any difference if you did agree. Frankly, you just went there to say “no”, to let her feel the same helplessness she and your father cast upon you. You’ve never visited her since.

Sae’s been busy ever since his career shift two years ago. (His parents weren’t all too happy about it, but ever since their screw up with yours, they weren’t as forceful anymore.) Now, he’s one of the assistant coaches for Japan’s national team, and you’ve never been happier for him. It gives him more flexibility too, getting to spend more time with you back at home, but also getting to invite you with him whenever they travel.

You guess it’s lucky that you managed to land a spot helping the team out with marketing, so more often than not you get to see your husband play some soccer. Like right now, when you’re bent over the railing, watching him coach the two main midfielders and looking completely different than when he’s at home.

For one, it’s definitely the first time you get to see him all intense. With you, he’s pretty much the opposite, going all soft whenever he gets home, and you wonder how you got so lucky to be building a home with someone who loves you so much he can spot you a mile away and give you the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen.

Sae calls for a break, jogging towards your direction looking handsome as hell but you’re not going to tell him that or else he’ll tease you about it.

“How are my girls?”

Oh, and you’ve apparently managed to give him a daughter that looks so much like him. She sits on the railing, your arms wrapped around her to support her as she jumps into her father’s arms.

“She’s been bugging me all day to come and visit you,” you remark.

Yeah, she’s a daddy’s girl—and you smile watching Sae kiss her all over, her laughter ringing in the air, her happiness meaning the world to you.

Neither you nor Sae have ever experienced what a good family is like, nor have either of you seen what good parenting is like. But your daughter seems happy everyday, with parents who support her whenever she wants to try something different, so you both take it one step at a time, learning as you go. If it ever gets too difficult for you, Sae steps in, and he’s never let you down.

“Remember what we’re gonna surprise mommy with later?” Sae asks your daughter, and you’re still trying to get used to him calling you that.

You arch a brow, “I get a surprise?”

Your daughter giggles, nodding as she melts in her father’s arms. “Of course, mommy! You’ll love it!”

Her smile is infectious, a grin forming on your face just by looking at her. You shift your gaze to your husband. “What is it?”

All he does is look you in the eyes, smirking. “You’ll see.”

That night, you entertain your daughter by letting her blindfold you and lead you, well, wherever the surprise is. It smells nice, wherever you are because you’d been blindfolded even during the car ride, and you can tell it’s grand because of the way your heels are clacking against the marble and the way Sae had dressed tonight.

By your guess, you’re probably at one of the nice hotels here for one of their signature buffet dinners. Your daughter’s never been, so that could be why she’s making a huge deal out of this. Like father, like daughter, so cute.

But when your daughter urgently whispers for you to take the blindfold off, you find yourself at the entrance of huge double doors, two hotel staff smiling and opening up to unveil a huge ballroom filled with people, most of them you recognise because they’re your friends.

It’s already bringing tears to your eyes when you realise what this must be.

They’re all cheering as they see you, your daughter skipping happily into the room, choosing to run straight to your purple-haired best friend at one of the tables who you thought was still busy abroad. Beside him, his beautiful girlfriend mouths a ‘hello’, but you’re still too surprised to respond.

Everyone’s clapping and cheering and all of a sudden you feel the familiar presence of your husband right beside you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he kisses you on the cheek.

“Surprised?”

Honestly? Yes. Very. And you’re not one to be easily surprised at all.

“I wanted to give you the celebration you deserved,” he tells you, waiting for you to take it all in.

It’s a far cry from the pathetic reception you got from people you barely knew during your actual wedding reception. Sae had been nothing but cold to you back then too, so it felt more like a prison than anything.

Now? You recognise so many faces in the crowd that you can’t help but smile and wave back. You’d always wondered what this would be like, and your husband somehow manages to give it to you without having you ask for it and you’re in love. Because he seems ice cold and awkward and rough around the edges but his love for you has always, always been warm. His love has always felt like coming home and having a safe space and this might be the unconditional love you’d been praying for your whole life.

You almost gave up on it. But you know now Sae never will. And neither will you. You have a family now, a proper one built by two people who never had a stable environment, by two people who never came close to being provided one themselves.

Sae’s your pillar of support, and you begin to see now that you’re his.

Now you know it’s true what they say; you don’t have to beg for someone’s love if they truly cared about you, because Sae has always gone the extra mile for you every single day. You don’t have to act like someone you’re not just to please them so they don’t leave—because no matter how many disagreements you have, Sae is always there to listen to your point of view. You don’t have to beg someone to treat you right if they really love you, because Sae’s been actively choosing you ever since the day you got married, and whether it’s intentional or not, you think you’re the luckiest person in the world.

And now you can’t be happier; you have a wonderful daughter who has two parents who absolutely love her. You have a husband who takes care of you in every single way, loving you in every essence of the word. You have friends like Reo who would burn the world if it was ever unkind to you and dance with you atop their pile of bodies. You have everything you could ever want and you couldn’t have seen it without Sae by your side.

The do-over of your wedding reception is perfect. So, so perfect, and it’s almost hard to believe it’s the product of Sae’s ideas. He doesn’t even particularly like celebrations like this but he did this for you, for both of you, and being able to make your daughter be a part of it is like icing on the four-tiered cake he had ordered.

“I’ll love you forever, Y/N,” he whispers suddenly into your ear as you guys are making rounds at the tables.

You accept the kiss from him, flashes going off as you smile against his lips. “Yeah? What if it falls apart?” you ask, teasing him, though you never thought he’d answer you seriously.

“Then I’ll rebuild it,” he tells you, your lips hovering just above each other and his beautiful teal eyes looking into yours, a small smile on his face. “But with you, I’m pretty sure that would never happen.”

And you’ve always been pessimistic. You’ve always chosen to believe the worst because it alleviates the pain you’d feel when things don’t go as planned. But somehow, you believe in Sae with your whole heart. You’d trust him with your whole life. So you want to give him what he’s given you—everything. (He thinks you already have.)

“I’ll love you forever, Itoshi Sae.”

taglist: @kimvmarvel @mxplesyrvp @yuzurins @futuristicxie @kiopanxp @k0z3me @y-sabell-a @sae1toshilover @xoxojisu @karmatiz @sagejin @minnieminnie00-got7 @hearts4heidi @shiinobu-x @n1uh @prepchuu @leeyzhuo @shidouryusm @tsukishiro-yue2402 @kaiserkisser @pookiebearcave @dcvilxswish @saeskiss @whtflrr @arminseas @raphsimp @saharei @danibxe @lectris00 @comet-kun @ishitam67 @gskill @sweet2wthsblog @scaraslover @beaniedoodz @bersuadikotatua @idk-bro-gay @etoiile @sanzu-sanzu-sanzu @yourstrulyharu @noimnotttt @tinyfurytaco @bxddiebloss @biaonww @kunirayuna39 @sikuthealien @vollereix @notepadgirl16 @zareri @c4ttheart @iovefilled

[mintmatcha]

MONSTER FUCKING

Fandom: Dungeons and Dragons

The night continues with Obsidian.

cw: cisfem reader, feminine nicknames, female receiving oral, OC x reader, monster fucking, a TINY BIT OF DUBCON, overstimulation

PART TWO OF TWO (Part one: here)

a/n: again, big thanks to @saetyrn9 and @tyga-lily <3

He doesn’t return until the fire is burnt low, nothing but embers. His figure is nothing but a silhouette against the hall light as he creeps, doing his best to move silently around the room. His dirty clothes are replaced by the sheerest of shirts and pants, thin enough that even in the low light you can see how his scales shimmer in hue, purple and green where the firelight touches. Every now and again he throws a glance towards you, tucked neatly on your side of the bed, and then sighs, low and forlorn. 

It feels wrong to watch him while he thinks you’re asleep. Even alone, he makes his movements so small, crouching to take up little space as he fiddles about, oiling his scales and the other mundane things he has to do before sleep. It hits you that he might be insecure about the space he takes up.

The world is not kind. It is tragedies and maladies, injustice and inhumanities. Tensions are always simmering under the surface, chaos always threatening to boil over. Horrible, awful things plague this world and not a single person is left untouched or unchanged.

Through all of that, Obsidian somehow remained gentle. That’s what you admire most of him- the softness he carries himself with. There’s a bitter edge that clings to you, a callus that won’t come off of your palms. He treats you well anyway, despite it all.

“You never got to ask your questions,” you say, voice only just louder than the last licks of fire.

Obi starts at the sound of your voice, then his shoulders soften. He drags himself to the edge of the bed, hands folded politely in front of him like a scolded child. He smells faintly of lemon and soap: soft, sour, and refreshing.

“Why are you still awake?” he whispers, affection honey sweet in his tone. He reaches to grab your ankle, then hesitates before dropping back to his side. “My curiosities can wait for another day.”

The night air is cool against your cheeks and the sheets are not thick enough. Obi, in all his emotional and physical warmth, is just out of reach. When you extend an arm for him, he doesn't meet you at first, hemming about like a child. It’s goofy, for such a grown man to seem so shy- you have to bite your lip to hold your smile back.  

Instead of waiting for him, you peel back the sheets and crawl to him. It’s impolite and unladylike, but it earns you a smile from him and an outstretched hand. This time, he doesn’t pull away when your fingers loop with his, instead closing tight.

“I’m sorry Kiri said all that.” 

“You don’t have to apologize for her behavior,” he says, eyes never leaving the spot he’s chosen at the end of the bed,  “I heard how you… scolded her.”

The innkeeper had threatened to kick you all out after the way you berated the poor girl, screaming in the hallway in just your nightgown, but the elf had deserved it. She’s barely older than a teenager in elf years, you remind yourself, but that isn’t an excuse for bad behavior.

Tomorrow, when the sun is up and emotions aren’t high, you’re sure the group will discuss it all, but for tonight, you want to tend to Obi’s wounds.

“Was I too harsh?” You trail a thumb across the back of his hand. Knees on the mattress, he’s still much taller than you, able to rest his chin on your head if he wanted. 

“Too harsh? No,” The hint of amusement you’ve come to love is back in his voice, “Too loud? Debatable.” 

Imitating you, he drags his thumb back and forth in comfort, the rounded nail grazing against your skin. Finally, he meets your eye, the green piercing even in the night. The feeling of want is thick, slowing every breath as if your ribs are stuffed with molasses, and all you can think is that you hope he feels this too-- hope he wants this too.“I appreciate you standing up for my honor.”

“Always,” you say. A heat drips into your core as you realize his claws are trimmed and rounded-- just for you.  “Anything for you.”

You rest a hand against his chest and wait in the silence, savoring the luxuriant feelings that fills your throat: want and need and desire and greed and contentment and bliss-- all a muddle you can’t swallow again, filling you, but also leaving you with a hunger that can’t be sated.

“You should rest,” he says as he slides his arms around you, grabbing handfuls of cloth. 

“Ask your questions first.”

Verdant eyes flicker down, marked by his chittering. It’s like a purr, you realize-- a sound of pure contentment. Feline is the way he moves, elegant and fluid.

“Does it really feel good-” His knuckle drags down your chest and hints over the apex of your breast, “When these are touched?”

He hesitates there, a breath away from you, wondering, hoping. The air crackles a bit wilder with magic for a moment- a response to his excitement.

“Obi,” You loop a finger under the strap of your nightgown and guide it off of your shoulder, pushing the neckline dangerously low. “Do you like my tits?”

“You should know that it’s very cheeky to answer my question with a question,” he leans forward and bumps his head against yours, nuzzling ever so slightly The ridges and tiny horns ruffle your hair and all you can do is giggle and squirm into it, bumping your noses together. His touch has wandered dangerously low, cupping under your ass and lifting you into him. 

Then, he sobers, voice lower than ever.

 “Yes.” He takes the satin edge between his fingers and delicately, carefully, lovingly moves the other strap down the other shoulder, guiding it until your breasts fall free. Obi swallows thickly, then runs his tongue across the upper ridge of his teeth as he takes in everything about you. “I like them very much.”

His nose is textured against your skin, grooved yet smooth against your clavicle. Each breath is released so slowly that it blooms with heat, crawling across your chest as he moves down, loving every inch above your breasts. The journey is marked with kisses and nips, the lightest touch of his teeth. The way he reveres the boring parts of you makes your heart flitter and, by the time he’s sucking a bruise into the fat of your tit, your body is trembling for him too.

“I didn’t realize they were so…” Teeth sink into your tit, testing the give. The other is cupped by his wide palm, lifting it into the side of his muzzle.  “Malleable.”

When he opens his jaw again, wider this time, it’s marked with the click and suck of wet. Strands of spit string together for a fleeting moment, following his panting tongue.

Oh, he’s no longer feline. He’s closer to a dog, feral and drooling for you.

The rough edge of his tongue dragging against your nipple rips a gasp from you, but it only serves as a siren’s call. His body presses into yours, folding your legs back and forcing you back into the down of the bed. The sheets crunch under you as you’re moved by the force of the way he indulges. You should scold him or warn him of the way you’ll bruise in the morning, but a heat consumes every aspect of you, robbing you of any thought. The scorch of his mouth, the delicious drip of spit trickling down your ribcage, the ambient heat that’s simply him- it all ignites that pulling, twist, blazing heat in your core, a fever you can’t sweat out.

Obi pulls away just enough to look at you through slitted eyes.

“My fawn,”  he purrs, “Now you are being too loud.”

His hand grips your side hard enough that even the trimmed edge aches.

“People are going to hear you,” he continues,  tongue dragging down the sweat touched valley between your breasts, “They’re going to know you’re being bedded by some beast." 

That makes your stomach flip, then flip again, tying your insides into a sickly knot. Your hands find the ridge of his horns on their own. Their length is surprisingly long for his age, more than enough for you to tug and stop his descent.  Obi glances up at you, giving you the reprieve you need. Both of you lay there, breathing in sync.

"Don’t say things like that," you say once you've caught yourself, "I don't like that. You're not…"

Lemon oil, mixed with the pressing of some sort of shrub nut- that's what he oils his scales with. It makes his skin so soft and makes the air always marked with him. 

"You're not some beast." You rub a thumb down the ridges of his horn, "You're my prince."

 The words feel so corny coming out of your mouth. You're no wordsmith, unlike him, but you can see the statement physically hit. At first, he just slightly draws back, then his eyes go wide before becoming intensely soft. Then, he curls in, tucked his chin and resting his forehead against your collarbone.

"Oh," he says, voice on the brink of laughter, "Oh, my fawn, my princess--"

He squeezes your hips again. "You're going to shatter my heart one day, aren't you?" 

Before you can respond, he's kissing you for real. It's different from anything else you've experienced with humans and elves; his mouth is different, firm lips unable to fully pucker. The feeling is strange, with too much teeth and pressure,but so, so, welcome.

Obi must enjoy it too; he shifts and writhes, finding his place between your awaiting thighs. You can feel how he grinds into the mattress, strokes long and slow and rough, searching for any sort of pressure. You want to touch him again-- no, need to. You need to see his cock for real this time, coax it out of his body for you to ride. 

Another tug on his horns pauses him. 

"Stop, just for a second," you say. He obeys, pulling back fully, and you untangle yourself from him. 

"Are you alright?"  Obi says, a tad dejected, "We can stop-"

You wriggle out of your slip and clumsily push it to the foot of the bed with your feet. A sliver of doubt wrangles its way into your thoughts; even in the dim, you're sure he can see your body and all its imperfections, the scars, the marks, the bits you simply don't like: does he know what to expect? Does he even know what humans look like naked? 

The room is cold without the fire going. You have to remind yourself who the man is on top of you. It’s not some stranger-- it’s Obi. Your Obsidian. A friend, a confidant, a brother in arms, and the kindest soul you’ve even met. It strikes you then that maybe you have feelings for him outside of all of those definitions, something closer to love than simple lust.

"I haven't shaved in a while, I'm sorry-" 

"You have the body of a nymph," Obi blurts out, voice high with surprise, "You're exquisite."

His pupils are fully round, engulfing almost all of the iris as he soaks in the sight of you. 

"Human's do not like this?" He leans down, head just below your belly button, examining when your body meets your cunt. His fingers run through your pubes, "But it's so…"

Mid-sentence he halts, mouth parted just enough that you can catch the jagged edge of his fangs. He swallows deep breaths, sucking more and more until his chest is puffed against yours. Strong, forceful hands loop under your knees and cram your legs apart. You squeal and kick, giddy in your embarrassment and barely able to contain your laughter.

"Oh, you smell so good," he exhales each word, only inches from your cunt. He’s pressing into you, almost folding you in half so he can creep into the bed with you. "That's your quim? That's what you've been hiding?"

He traces two fingers up the clef, admiring it even closer than ever. The rumble in his chest, the purring, is so grand that it shakes your thighs. Like this, strung up and spread apart, you feel so exposed, so vulnerable. You muster up even more embarrassment when fingers part your lips and his steamed breath tickles your most inner parts. 

“Don’t look so closely!” you scold, but he doesn’t listen.

"Humans get so wet." You try to close your knees on instinct, but the mass of his body stops you, "Is this usual? Do you always?"

"Only when-- a-aa-ah-"

You find out that he was not looking for an actual answer. Obi takes you by the hips and drags you down into his muzzle, wasting no item before dragging that damned tongue across the entirety of you. He's eager and unaimed, licking and sucking and drooling across every inch of you except where you want him. The crest of his brow digs into the puff of your mound, blocking you from reaching down and playing with your clit yourself. 

The want, the need-- it's dizzying. Words fail you every time you try to speak, your comprehensibility robbed by the hiccupped whines Obi is pulling from you. Teetering on this edge is deliciously painful, but you're already losing patience.

 Frustrated, you grind your hips down and Obi's nose bumps against your clit. The pressure makes your body sing, so you do it again and again, claiming your pleasure on your terms. A laugh rumbles through your skin as Obi chuckles and obliges, lapping at exactly where you need him too. 

Heat sears through you as you cum: hard. It's almost a surprise, boiling over when you least expect it. It’s a flex and release of your muscles, a quick, simple thing that gives you just enough release. It’s nothing life changing, but it’s better than what you get with most men.

You breathe and wait for Obi to move or comment, but he's still, waiting for you to pick up your pieces. 

"That was nice." You say after a bit, "Now, why don’t you come here and let me ride you?"

Whe he doesn’t respond, you sit up slightly, only to be caught. A hand presses down on your stomach and locks you in place against the mattress. Dark eyes glance up at you, narrowed. 

 "Stay still," he says, voice rougher than ever, "I can do better than simply 'nice.'"

Immediately, you regret teaching Obi where you liked to be licked. He abuses that knowledge, focusing on your poor, overstimulated clit until you're nothing but whimpers. Your brain cant think when he's touching you; all you can do is whine. Reaching and grasping for hair that isn't there, your nails run across his scales head and find no purchase.

Then, your own head is tapped by… something. You screw back and realize he's ran you into the fucking wall; you have to extend both hands to stop yourself from being crumpled even further. 

"Shit, shit, shit, shit--" This one's going to be big. You can feel it rolling in, coming like a wave.

Two thick fingers press inside you. If you weren't impossibly slick, the stretch would ache, but there's no friction left to resist the intrusion. He explores a bit, pumping and curling and-- there. That's all you need to tumble again, falling and falling and falling-

Until the drop hits. 

You're left boneless. There's no resistance in your body as he adjusts you again, throwing your knees over his shoulders-

"Obsidian, no," You drum your heels against his back,  "No, no, no, no, I can't take another--"

A deep, rolling growl fills the room as he squeezes tighter, locking you together as his long, firm tongue presses inside of you. You realize he’s speaking an unfamiliar tongue-- Draconic, most likely. It’s sultry tones and clicked vowels, rolling deep and slow into one long slurred sound. Maybe he’s scolding you, maybe it’s praise: you don’t care. He holds you like he owns you-- like he controls you, and you find that you like that.

“Please, please, please, just fuck me already-” You find yourself blabbering, “Need you, need it, just-- oh, Gods and Stars-- Please fuck me, please--” 

You clutch on to the mattress and hope the world stops spinning. “On me--- in me, just-- Gods, fucking cum already-”

“No,” Common slips from his mouth,  “Not yet.”

The night is a blur after that. There’s no possible way to count how many times you cum; they all roll into one in your mind, an unstable peak. He’s everywhere, he’s everything. You always imagined him as a patient lover, but you’re quickly proved wrong. He’s mean and demanding, drawing everything from you until the ache in between your ribs grows unbearable.  Slick runs from your thighs to your knees, ruining the cotton beneath you both. The unbearable sounds of wet fill the room, marked by your occasional protests.

You hate him, you think. Maybe you love him. You can’t tell when your brain is absolutely swimming in dopamine. 

“‘m gonna pass out,”  you whine, weakly batting a hand against his forehead. The dragonborn pulls away with a dot of a kiss, finally listening.

“Then do, fawn.” Obi’s chest and face shine with a mixture of your excitement and his spit, “Sleep. That doesn’t bother me.”

With that, he spreads you open again. You eventually do drift off, too overstimulated and absolutely fucked to even keep your eyes open. There has to be something to it. The taste? The smell? Dragonborns are more sensitive to pheromones, you think. Maybe he's high off of you?

No, it’s too focused to be solely for him; it must be for your pleasure. He must get some sort of sick fucking satisfaction from unraveling you down to your very core and then continuing. You feel unwound, a ball of yarn left to uncoil and flounder in the breeze

In the moments of twilight between sleeps, you manage to catch him moving, legs positioned around your rib cage as he whines, voice tight when he speaks. It’s mumbled nothings, ripping through his broken voice. Draconic seems to be paced so much slower than Common, each word rolling carefully slow off of his tongue.

Exhaustion sits so heavy that you can't keep your eyes focused.  You have to keep one eye closed to even get a glimpse of what he's-

Oh. 

Oh. 

Above you, inches away from your face, Obsidian Vyke fists his cock. Contrary to what he said, his body is not very similar to a humans. All of the important parts are there, of course, but the shape is much, much bigger, with a tapered end and ridges running down the bottom. It's an ashen purple, the same color as his skin under his scales, and his balls are a bit darker, hairless and slick with his precum. The head pulses every couple of strokes and you know he's dangerously close to cumming himself.

You want that. You’ve been begging for it this entire night and it’s there, inches from your face. That needs to be inside me, you think, but your poor pussy is twitching and raw from all the attention. 

You settle for the next best thing. 

With all the effort you can muster, you prop yourself up ever so slightly. You stick up your tongue and the pillow of his cock presses against it.  It only takes a couple of kitten licks for him to spill; he crumbles into a whine and your mouth is suddenly painted with thick, potent seed.

It’s… different from other spend you’ve had the displeasure of tasting. Less astringent, more… you’re not sure. When your ex husband used your mouth, you always winced at the taste, but now you close your mouth and suck. His cock doesn’t stop kicking, dribbling more than a man could ever dream of producing. It’s hot enough that you flinch with it touches the back of your throat, but you don’t stop swallowing, draining it down as fast as you can.

The taste was enjoyable, you realize. You liked that, as if you were a common whore. Before any sort of shame can set in, Obi scrambles away, cooing and stroking the side of your face with his usual warmth.

“Oh, sweet fawn, you didn’t have to,” he says, “Let me get you something to spit that into.” 

You shake your head and open your mouth again, tongue extended to show him it’s already gone. 

"Little minx." Obi speaks with a wild amount of warmth and you bathe in it, letting your eyes close again. "Beautiful, dirty thing.”

There’s no way you’re beautiful now, with your makeup smeared and your hair ruined, but you choose to believe him. The swipe of a tongue against your cheek, comforting, not erotic, elicits a giggle from you. Gods, it hurts to even laugh.

“You’re dripping in sweat. I’m going to steal a towel to clean you up with, alright?” Obi pauses, presumably waiting for your approval, before hurrying about. You can make out the slip of fabric being pulled up, the creak of floorboards, the-

Sleep overtakes you.

The sun is much, much higher than you’d like it to be when you awake. The town is in full force, boys screaming the news, merchants peddling their wares, but you can’t seem to find the energy to join them. Not when the bed is so warm and welcome.

Obi is gone. He’s always been an early riser, so that doesn’t bother you much. Besides, you aren’t sure you want him seeing you like this, knock-kneed and drained as you try to gather yourself together. Down there is unbearably slick still, even after all the time that's passed, and that fills you with a sick excitement. 

It’s not until after your bath that you feel remotely human again. The glitter and lust of last night begins to fade as you strap yourself into your clothes, but a relaxed giddiness still hangs on.

By the time you meander downstairs, the inn is busy serving lunch. The air is tinged with salt and spices-- the familiar kind you haven’t smelt in ages, let alone tasted. Familiar faces are crowded into one of the smaller booths, Obsidian’s comically large shoulders bumping against his two elf companion’s. Tensions have clearly calmed since last night. The elf is busy spooning bits of vegetables out of her stew and plopping them into the dragonborn’s.

“You must take my carrots. I know how you like them,” she demands, “And I’ll have your rabbit, since you don’t eat meat. Does that sound good to you, sorcerer?”

Obsidian is already obliging, cornering the bits he doesn’t want out of the bowl. “If that’s what you want.” 

"You'll take this bread too. I grabbed an extra for you."

"Oi, you didn't grab any extra for me."

"The Sorcerer probably weighs fifty times what you do, he needs more."

Obsidian pats his stomach with concern. "Fifty times?"

“She awakes!”  Tig, Kiri’s lover, croons, head in their hands as they notice you. They are just as lean and beautiful as Kiri is, but painted much, much fairer. “We feared you dead, Rogue!”

“Aye, both of you act as if I would leave her rotting,” Obi bemoans. Both elves turn to the poor man and coo, patting his shoulder comfortingly. Your speech clearly had some effect on the group and that deepens your giddy feeling.

“Did you bathe again?”  Kiri hands her bread over to the dragonborn as promised, “I thought you had done so last night.”

You glance over at your… lover? Friend? You aren’t sure. He watches back, brow quirked, waiting for you to lead this dance.

“Just taking advantage of the water,” You reply as evenly as you can, taking the empty seat. Your relationship news to be figured out before you make it public knowledge, especially since your last relationship ended with such…

The dragonborn slides a roll across the table with a crinkle of his eyes, sparing you a train of thought you’re not emotionally ready for. It steams as you rip into it and cram it into your mouth. Hunger suddenly rips through your body and you perk up, searching for the source of this stew.

“Did you sleep well?” Tig asks between mouthfuls. They aren’t as proper as Kiri; they spread their legs wide and take up as much space as they can, holding their utensils like a shovel. If they weren’t so ethereal and genderless, you’d think that they were a half elf.

“Hopefully I didn’t keep you up,” Obi says, offhandedly, “I’d hate to think I kept you awake.”

Oh, that rascal.  His nose scrunches as he tries not to laugh.

“You bothered me a bit,” you reply, equally placid, “But I don’t mind.”

“What a shame.” He takes a spoonful of the meal and chews it thoughtfully. Then, he pauses, pressing two fingers into the crook of his jaw. “I must have sleep strangely because I woke with this awful ache in my jaw-”

A swift kick to the shin silences him.

[jerreeeeeee]

Balance fic recs

some of my favorite balance fics. various ages, popularities, and lengths. i’ve been wanting to do a rec list for a while!

caramel by nevereverever

The first time Taako is left alone, it isn't pretty. But their lives are stuck in a loop and people come back and die again and again and he wonders if there will ever be a time when he doesn't have to fear being left alone.

2.7k, Taako & Lup Lup dies one cycle and then, years later, she dies again. But she always comes back. Hurt/comfort of the best kind.

Warmth by noxic

"It was a well-known fact among the residents of the Starblaster that Lup, Barry, and Taako slept in the same bed more often than not. It was one of those things that they just did without really talking about it."

2.1k, Barry & Lup & Taako The BLT fic of all time. Quality platonic adult sleepovers.

Taako the Matchmaker by @fantasysamsclub

In which Taako tries to set up his sister. Events take place during Stolen Century.

11.1k, Blupjeans & Taako Taako tries to set up blupjeans. Miscommunication ensues. Very sweet and funny.

red fishing line by @anistarrose

A routine performance of Sizzle it Up goes nightmarishly wrong, and at Lup’s bedside, Taako feels helpless. And when a red-robed guest appears before him, Taako doesn’t know how or what to feel at all.

3k, Barry & Lup & Taako Also the BLT fic of all time. Excellent subtle Taako characterization, and my favorite depiction of the familiarity-but-not of being voidfished. Warning for major character death.

Sunny-Side Up by @barry-j-blupjeans

And the world? The world loved Taako. For once in his gods-damned life, people loved him. They didn’t care about all the flaws, they didn’t care where he came from or who he was before. They loved his food and they loved him. No one would ever quite be at Taako’s level and that was something he thrived on. There would never be anyone who could measure up. Taako deserved this happiness. He worked for it. He wasted his fucking life away for it.

5.7k, Taako A wonderful character study, revolving around the role food plays in Taako's life. Fairly minor but impactful characters like Sazed and Taako's aunt are utilized in a very meaningful way. So well-written and warm. Warning for brief suicidal ideation.

On the Deck of the Starblaster by @papergardener

“What the… what are you all doing? We have work to do!” It’s a justified reaction, Lucretia thinks, to finding your entire crew literally lazing about on deck not an hour into this new cycle. “This one's on me,” Taako says. “It’s a new trend I like to call: taking a fucking break.” Cycle Nintey-Five. Everyone’s maybe not doing so good and could use a little warmth.

6.5k, Lucretia & Taako Near the end of the century, Lucretia is feeling rough. Taako pulls her out of her funk and initiates a much needed rest. Fantastic characterization, of Lucretia as a whole, and the loyal, warm side of Taako. Warning for mentions of a suicide attempt and suicidal ideation.

leaving, as an injustice by @anistarrose

When Mavis is eight, she starts finding her Dad asleep on the couch in the morning. Sometimes, he’s even all the way out on their tiny patio, with his head slumped onto a pillow atop the chess table, and bags beneath his eyes. In one of their following games, he tells her about tactical retreats.

4.7k, Mavis & Merle A study of Mavis and her relationship to Merle. Incredibly insightful into criminally underrated characters. Excellent Merle characterization.

Permission by vaguenotion

She’d been doing this on and off for the last hour, as if daring the men to catch up to them. Daring them to fight her. Every time seemed like a final stand. Here is where I will meet them, her shoulders said, hiked up around her ears. Here is where I’ll make them pay for what they’ve done. But then Taako would grab her hand, and she would turn and see the bruising on his throat, the blood drying on his brow, the tear in his shirt. And she would grip his hand in hers and together they would keep running.

12.6k, Taako & Lup My favorite depiction of the twins as children, both in character and realistic. Beautifully atmospheric, with so many small details that make the setting feel so real. Warning for assault and harm to children.

Come Hell or High Water by @nillial

“Taako,” Hurley asks, “where’s your magic umbrella?” Taako looks behind him. He had tossed the Umbrastaff in the path of a neighboring vehicle, which was beginning to catch up to them. He sees them now, far in the distance, and he sees his Umbrastaff, too, lying dangerously close to its wheels. As if on cue, he watches the tires crush it to pieces. “Whoops,” he says. - Lup is trapped. And then she isn’t. --- In which Taako breaks his umbrella during the Petals to the Metal race, unknowingly freeing Lup, who is almost immediately captured by Kravitz. After becoming a member of the Raven Queen's retinue with Kravitz as her trainer, she has two missions: 1) find her family, and 2) ruin Kravitz's afterlife. A story about enemies becoming friends and lost families finding their way back to one another.

197k (currently), Lup & Kravitz Incredible characterization. I love the way Lup is written. Hilarious shenanigans, sweet friendship-building, and terribly sad sometimes, because it dives deep into the reality of Lup existing in a world that's forgotten her.

Very cold water on a very hot day by @keplercryptids

Sometimes a family is a nerd who can't swim and the crunchy-haired watersport inventor who teaches him how. Surfer lingo required.

3.1k, Barry & Taako Deep dive into the beach year. Excellently in character, well-written dialogue, and a beautiful depiction of their growing friendship.

Children of Atlas by @papergardener

They’ve survived the apocalypse and now as far as they know, they’re the only ones left. Perhaps it was inevitable that they’d consider… repopulation. Lucretia writes up a weekly schedule to try and address that. Absolutely no one is happy with this.

76k (currently), IPRE crew The premise for this one is incredibly offputting, but I'm so glad I gave it a chance. The characterization and quality of writing is absolutely wonderful. I also love the attention to detail of the realistic difficulty of just surviving. Fantastically atmospheric, this fic dives deep into the uncertainty and fear of the first cycle, when the crew are all strangers, and the love that turns them into a family. Warning for extensive discussion of sexual assault.

Emissary Davenport by DragonWrites

A series of stories where Captain Davenport is secretly an emissary of Garl Glittergold, Gnomish god of pranks. And when you're a serious-minded captain on a mission to save all of reality, having a cheerful trickster god as your unexpected patron can get a little strange...

300k, Davenport A series of four works set in an AU where Davenport is an emissary to the leader of the gnomish pantheon. My absolute favorite depiction of Davenport, ever. The first three works are explorations of Davenport as a character and the relationships between people and gods in a DnD world. The last, Lost Gods, is the best fanfiction I've ever read. I can't express how good it is. The attention to detail among myriad plot threads, the building of themes, the characterization across just about every single character in Balance, all come together to create 223k words of a genuine masterpiece.

[blaithnne]

By popular demand, here are the humanised Ducktales characters I teased several weeks ago — it’s April, May, and June!

May and June do take design and personality inspiration from their canon equivalents, but these three are not the same characters. They have nothing to do with FOWL, and are Daisy’s almost adult nieces! They’ve been under her care since they were very young, and she’s always been more of a mother than an aunt to them. 

April — The eldest triplet, April is athletic, energetic, and a massive tomboy. She cares deeply for her Aunt and sisters, and wants to help them in every way she can! She hopes to become a professional footballer, and use the money to support her family - she likes the idea of being their provider. She and her siblings have just graduated high school, and once the summers over she starts work as a coach at her old school. She might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but she has a big heart, and next year, she’s off to college on a sports scholarship. 

May — Organised, strict, and always a little bit stressed, May is by far the most suspicious of the new guy her beloved Auntie is dating. She handles most of the family finances and keeps them on track, and sees it as her duty to keep them safe. She doesn’t trust Donald with a five foot pole, believing him an incompetent manchild who’ll just drag Daisy down to take care of him instead of focusing on her dream job. Deep down, May harbours a deep seated guilt for the sacrifices her Aunt made for her and her sisters. In her mind, being sacked with three young girls kept Daisy from accomplishing her real dreams, and now that she’s older, May is determined to give her Aunt everything she rightfully deserves. Seeing Donald and his three young children, May is convinced history will repeat itself, and she’ hate to let that happen – not when Daisy deserves so much more! Unbeknownst to her, Daisy adores her nieces more than anything in the world, and thinks them coming into her life is the best thing that ever happened to her. Sacrifices or not, Daisy wouldn’t trade her girls for the world. If only May would stop worrying and realise that. 

June — Though she might seem scary at a glance, June is actually the biggest sweetheart you’ll ever meet. Soft spoken and shy, June has a strong moral compass and a burning hatred for any and all injustice. She uses punk and emo fashions not only as a shield to make herself look intimidating, but because of the historical ties to rebellion and anti-conservative ideals. She spends most of her time organising and attending human rights rallies, and campaigning to help those in need. She might struggle to speak to the mailman, but she never feels more confident than when she’s marching with her peers in support of the greater good. But the one thing she cares about most of all is her family, and she dedicates a good portion of her efforts to her local community, in hopes of making things easier and more fair for them all. 

[goblinsandgods]

Im just thinking about how Kipperlily manufactured her own villainous origin story by getting her most loyal friend murdered and cursed as a result of her own greed for public acknowledgment and power.

Kipperlily blamed the system for her own mediocrity. She saw her peers succeed against the odds - and came to the delusional conclusion that the injustice they survived was actually a stepping stone to greatness that she didn’t get.

She wanted what they had - perceived success and accolades. But instead of seeking out opportunities for her to showcase her own skills- she decided to try and bring others down to her level by cutting them off at the knees.

So she schemed to find loopholes in the rules to make the system bias in her favor. She believed she was right and had no interest in looking for information that could prove her wrong. Because she didn’t want fairness, she wanted success.

She decided that it was unfair that her peers suffered injustice- not because they were kids who deserved better but because she felt that they were getting something special she didn’t have. Clearly a shortsighted, childish jealousy but the stupidity of it all doesn’t make the hatred less genuine or dangerous.

In contrast: Lucy Frostblade was defined by her loyalty - loyalty to her divinity, loyalty to her increasingly unhinged friend, and loyalty to her own principles.

Lucy was the one person who backed up Kipperlily’s choices, mainly as a show of support for her suffering friend. And in return Kipperlily let her friend get brutally murdered (or possibly murdered Lucy herself).

Because in the end Kipperlily was only loyal to herself and her interests. And Lucy refused to abandon her principles and her goddess in the name of her friend's greed.

[zapreportsblog]

❝leave him alone❞

✭ pairing : thomas hewitt x reader

✭ fandom : texas chainsaw massacre

✭ summary : (y/n) and a few friends are backroading through Texas and stop at a gas station for gas where (y/n) sees a young man being bullied, well she isn’t one to stand by

✭ authors note : you may have seen some photos of him unmasked but if you haven’t Thomas doesn’t have a nose, he continuity suffers from a facial disfigurement and a skin disease that eats away most of his nose. Due to this disfigurement, his muteness and mental retardation (carried over from the first series), Hewitt is bullied as a child.

✭ slasher masterlist

As (y/n) and her friends ventured through the Texas countryside, the thrill of backroading filling the air, they eventually pulled into a quiet gas station. The sun was setting, casting a warm and golden hue across the landscape.

As they parked, (y/n) couldn't help but notice a scene that caught her attention. A young man, Thomas Hewitt, sat in the driver's seat of a car, his head down, his demeanor downcast. A group of local teens stood near the car, laughing and taunting him.

A sense of injustice flared within (y/n), and without a second thought, she made her way over to where the teens were harassing Thomas. With a firm tone and an unwavering gaze, she interrupted their cruel taunts. "Hey, cut it out. Leave him alone."

The teens exchanged surprised glances, clearly taken aback by her assertiveness. They begrudgingly backed off and dispersed, their laughter fading into the background. (y/n) turned her attention to Thomas, her expression one of genuine concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice kind and understanding.

Thomas lifted his gaze to meet hers, his expression a mix of surprise and gratitude. Despite his inability to speak due to his mute condition, he appreciated her intervention more than words could express. He nodded, his eyes avoiding direct contact as a blush tinged his cheeks.

(y/n) smiled at him, unperturbed by his appearance. His disfigurement and the skin disease he struggled with didn't faze her; she saw beyond the surface and treated him with the respect and kindness he deserved.

"Don't let their comments get to you," she said gently, her tone reassuring. "You're stronger than that. And honestly, I think you look handsome."

Thomas's blush deepened, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't believe that someone would find him attractive despite his condition. He tried to respond, making noises and using hand gestures to communicate his gratitude, but he found it challenging.

(y/n) smiled warmly, understanding his struggle. "It's okay, no need to say anything. Just know that you're not alone, and there are people out here who see you for who you are."

Thomas's eyes met hers again, a mixture of emotions swirling within them. Gratitude, relief, and a newfound sense of hope blossomed in his heart. He might not be able to speak, but his appreciation for her actions and kind words transcended language.

As (y/n) rejoined her friends, Thomas watched her with a mix of admiration and amazement. Her act of kindness had touched him deeply, and he felt a connection he had never experienced before. And as he drove away from the gas station, he couldn't help but smile, grateful for the unexpected encounter that had brightened his day.

As the car pulled away from the gas station, the sound of the engine and the fading scenery slowly became the backdrop to Thomas's thoughts. He replayed the brief encounter with (y/n) in his mind, a mixture of emotions swirling within him.

A little while later, the door to the gas station opened again, and Thomas's brother entered the car, bringing with him a small bag of snacks. He settled into the driver's seat, casting a curious glance at Thomas.

"So, who was that girl you were talking to?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Thomas turned to his brother, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He gestured and signed with his hands, "She defended me. She told those guys to stop. She said I looked handsome."

His brother chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow playfully. "Oh, really? Is that so?"

Thomas nodded, his blush deepening as he remembered (y/n)'s words. He had never expected someone to be so kind to him, let alone call him handsome. It was a foreign and exhilarating feeling.

His brother's grin widened, and he gave Thomas a playful nudge with his elbow. "Seems like someone's got a crush."

Thomas playfully swatted at his brother's arm, a small smile breaking through his usually reserved demeanor. He couldn't help but feel a sense of lightness, a departure from the usual challenges he faced due to his condition.

While his brother drove, Thomas continued to think about (y/n), the mysterious and kind stranger who had brightened his day. He replayed her words and the way she had defended him, feeling a warmth spread through his chest.

As the car continued down the road, Thomas couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter might have been more than just a passing moment. He had felt a genuine connection with (y/n), and he couldn't help but wonder if their paths might cross again in the future. And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to entertain the possibility of friendship and even something more.

[saberlight1]

lost signals & tunes — coriolanus snow

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

warnings: slight tbosas spoilers, angst, mentions of violence, injustice in the districts, possessive!snow, trauma, kinda mean!snow, talks of a breakup, arguments, standard ballad of songbirds and snakes warnings.

authors note: i’m back for round 3!!! i’m so happy that you all like this series so far as much as i do. here are the links to part 1 & 2, if you missed them. this one is sad and angsty, i’m sorry. the song y/n sings is by frank santra! anyways, i hope you enjoy this one! much love.

masterlist

Since your last real conversation with Coriolanus, he had been acting different. He was colder, and you didn’t know if you were simply going crazy, or if he just going out of his way to ignore you.

But regardless, you were hurt. When you tried to speak to him, he would say he had somewhere to be. And maybe he did, but you just wished he’d spend time with you.

You missed him, really.

Lucy Gray frowned as she watched you from across the room. You and the Covey were all getting ready backstage at the Hob where you were set to perform shortly. Even if you were cousins, you and Lucy Gray were brought up as sisters and knew the other probably better than you knew yourselves.

She watched you as you were deep in thought, and she knew something was troubling you. She walked over, and with a click of her tongue she gained your attention.

With a raise of her eyebrows you already knew what she was thinking. “Lucy Gray, please. Not right now,”

She raised her hands up in surrender, sitting down next to you on the couch. “I was just gonna ask what was wrong,”

“I’m sorry,” You sighed, rubbing your temple. “I’m stressed out,”

“Talk to me,” She softly smiled, her hand coming up to comfortably rub your shoulder.

“Coriolanus has just been acting weird, and I don’t know why. I think.. I think when we were at the lake I said something that he didn’t like, or something.” You vented. “Just ever since we got back, he’s been off. Or maybe I’m just delusional.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at yourself. “Christ, Gray, I’m loosin’ it.”

She giggled. “You got a bad case of the love blues, it sounds to me, Y/N.” She repeated the same thing your mothers used to say all the time when talking about past relationships.

A small smile blessed your features. “I think you may be on to somethin’.” You sighed, again. “I just wish he’d at least talk to me, y’know? Let me know whatever I’ve done, so I can fix it, or if he wants to break up just fuckin’ tell me. I hate when shit just lingers.”

“I know.” She shook her head. “Listen, if he doesn’t realize how damn good he’s got it, then he ain’t worth it. You know better. And I know you two got history and what not, but if he stressin’ you out so bad you can’t even enjoy a performance, I’d say ya need to talk to the boy.” She explained, shrugging. “Or leave his ass. You deserve better,”

You chuckled. “Only you, Lucy Gray, could manage to make me laugh while talking about my relationship problems.” You shook your head, playfully.

A smile came back to her face. “You know it, now, c’mon we got a show to play.” She stood up, holding her hand out for you to take.

She brought you over to the rest of the Covey, Issac immediately bringing you into a side hug.

“Aye, sis, you want me to kick that boy’s ass?” He asked, smiling goofy.

You laughed. “No, please.”

“Alright, alright.“ He shook his head. “Let’s go, folks!”

Once you all were out on stage, all of the struggles and worries wrestling around your mind faded, and a smile brightly displayed on your face as you sang along with your family. You didn’t even realize how fast it was going by because you were enjoying yourself.

Until you saw his smirk in that crowd.

You were scanning the crowd as normal, loving to see all of different people coming to together to enjoy music when you saw him. He was in the back of the room, alone, his arms crossed over his chest as he smirked at you.

His gaze almost made you feel uneasy, his sharp eyes boring into yours. Lucy Gray wrapped up one of her songs, turning on her heel and winking at you, her signal to let you know it was your turn on the mic.

You sighed before standing up, grabbing your guitar and walking up to the mic.

“Hey, twelve,” You smiled, looking at the crowd. “How y’all doin’ tonight, huh?” They all cheered in return, making your smile grow bigger. “That’s what I like to hear! Alright, here’s the song.”

Over and over, I keep goin’ over the world we knew.

You began, singing deeply and sharply into the mic, staring into Coriolanus’ eyes.

Once when you walked beside me,

That inconceivable, that unbelievable world we knew,

When we two were in love.

Your eyes burned into his as the rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only you and him as you sang to him. He knew it was about him, most of your songs were.

And every bright neon sign turned into stars,

And the sun and the moon seemed to be ours.

Each road that we took turned into gold,

But the dream was too much for you to hold.

Your voice boomed across the pub, the couples holding each other and the singles downing their shots in misery. You touched all their hearts with the song, somehow. His eyebrows furrowed as he truly listened to the lyrics, seeing how you wrote about your love and pain, and he wondered if it was still about him.

I mean, he hadn’t hurt you, right? He didn’t think him ignoring you for a week or two would push you this far.

Now, over and over I keep goin’ over the world we knew.

Days when you used to love me.

Issac and Cece took over for the music break, as you turned to blink away the tears that threatened to spill.

And every bright neon sign turned into stars,

And the sun and the moon seemed to be ours.

Each road that we took, it turned into the gold,

But the dream was too much for you to hold.

The tears only got closer to dropping from your eyes as you kept singing, just trying to get through the song. You tried focusing on the beautiful music the Covey produced behind you and put your all into your singing.

Now, over and over I keep goin’ over the world we knew.

Days when you used to love me,

Over and over I keep goin’ over that world we knew.

You finished with one last strum of your guitar, and the melodies of Lucy Gray and Maudie Ivory next to you. The crowd erupted in cheers and claps.

“Thank you!” You smiled as the rest of your family joined you, bowing. After saying your goodbyes, you stalked off stage as fast as you could, ignoring the concerned gaze from Coriolanus.

“Your singing was beautiful, I love that song.” Lucy Gray said as she walked beside you. “But I do want to give that boy a stern talkin’ to for makin’ you feel that way.”

You grabbed her wrist. “No, Lucy. Let me talk to him.” She looked at you with raised brows, the pair of you exchanging words with your eyes. Eventually she nodded, stepping forward and letting you walk.

You walked through the corridor that led back out to the dance floor, your eyes looking for that familiar face. But it seemed to be that he found you before you could find him, the man already walking towards you.

You crossed your arms, turning on your heel to walk deeper into the corridor so no one would be around. You knew he’d follow, so you leaned against the wall, popping the gum in your mouth.

“There you are,” He called as he turned the corner, seeing you standing there. He walked over to stand in front of you. “Y/N, that song—”

“Cut the shit,” You cut him off. “What’s been goin’ on with you, Coriolanus?”

His eyebrows furrowed at your forwardness. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you avoidin’ me. You been actin’ weird since the lake, Coryo.” You sighed, pushing yourself off the wall to get eye to eye with the man before you. “If this is about what I said about runnin’ away..”

He rubbed his temple, staying silent.

“Coriolanus, do you expect me to enjoy life here? Watchin’ people get hung every other day, scared for my own damn life? My families lives?” You threw your arms out, scoffing. “Why would I want to stay?”

“Because of me!” He cut off your rant with a whisper yell. “I wanted you to want to stay, with me. Or.. come with me to the Capitol.”

“You know how I feel about that.”

“I know. And I wish I could change that.” He stepped forward a bit. “Because I don’t want to be away from you, Y/N.”

Your eyes softened. “Coryo, I don’t want to be away from you either. Hell, I’ve been thinkin’ about you for weeks just because you didn’t talk to me,” You bitterly laughed at your own foolishness. “But, look, if this is gon’ cause a problem between us, then maybe we should just call it off here, ‘cause even if it’ll hurt like hell, if we don’t got trust in each other then we got dirt.” You shrugged, even though the words you spoke felt like a dagger to the heart.

“No.” He shook his head immediately, his hands reaching out to grip your hips, almost seeming to make sure you wouldn’t run. “I’m not letting you go, no. Definitely not over this.”

“Then what do you want from me?” You asked, your eyes flickering between his. “You iced me out for 2 weeks because of what I said, then when I give you a solution, you say no?”

“Because that solution is us not being together.” He said, firmly. “That is the last thing I want. This whole thing started because I’m afraid of being away from you, Y/N.” He finally admitted.

You sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me that? We could’ve worked this out together.”

His hands slid up your body to cradle your face. “I was afraid. I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean for this. I didn’t mean to hurt you,”

You looked down. “You scared me, you asshole. I thought you didn’t want to be with me anymore.”

He frowned, tapping softly on your cheek to get your attention back onto him. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way, I always want to be with you. We will figure this out, I promise you that. I.. I’m just not good with talking about things with people, y’know…”

A soft smile spread over your face. “Yeah, I know. Just.. talk to me next time, okay? I hate when we don’t talk.” You said, walking into his arms.

He sighed happily at the contact, nuzzling his face his your hair to inhale your scent. “I will, my love.” He sighed, pulling back and licking his lips. “That song, though, it was beautiful. What is it called?”

You continued to smile. “You didn’t figure it out? It’s called ‘The World We Knew’ and, before you even ask, yes, it’s about you.”

His smiled slowly faded. “I made you feel that way?”

You swallowed, your smile gone as well. “Coryo.. these past two weeks, I thought it was over between us. When I wrote that, I was trying to come to terms with it.”

“Well, now you know that we’ll forever be in that world we apparently knew.” He joked, making you giggle.

He leaned forward to place a loving kiss on your lips, causing you to moan against his lips. He pulled back at the noise, looking at you with a smirk. “I have just the idea to make it up to you,”

You laughed when you saw that glint in his eye, kissing him again. “Show me what you got, big boy.” 

[604to647]

Mi Galleta (Part 1 - Ginger Molasses)

5.9K / Modern AU Grumpy Bouncer!Pero Tovar x Sunshine-Rich Girl!reader

Summary: You meet Pero Tovar, the grumpy bouncer of a high-end restaurant your friend really wants to eat at, and over the course of one week, you try to convince him to grant you and your friends access.

Warnings: Kind of a silly premise, but let's go with it! Fluff (Pero has one dirty thought), lots of food (including dishes I made up in my mind), cute nickname (won't spoil).

A/N: I love food and I love Pero? And I know Pero loves food, so I said, let's put him in the restaurant business 🤭 Did I mention that this whole thing was born from a dream? All cute dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰 Series Masterlist

“Uggghhh!! I don’t understand how you’re supposed to eat here??!”

Your friend Dorothy is having an absolute fit, bordering on a tantrum, and you can’t help but bite down on your lip to keep from laughing.  Normally, you can diffuse Dorothy’s rage with a well-timed joke and a hug, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to work just yet.  Better let her exhaust herself a little more first.

“It’s like this restaurant doesn’t want people to come!!”

“Well, maybe it’s not worth going to then?” asks your other friend Eloise in a helpful tone, which seems like a miscalculation because Dorothy’s arms flail in the air erratically at the question.

“Of course, we have to go!  It’s only the hottest restaurant opening; everyone is talking about it!  We have to be there!!”  Dorothy crosses her arms and exhales with an exaggerated pout.

Very gently you put your arms around her and pat her arm soothingly, “A new restaurant opens, like, every week.  We can’t go to them all?”

Dorothy looks like she’s going to cry, “But I want to go to this one!  And the fact that they’re making it so exclusive is making me want to go MORE.”  You giggle and kiss the top of her head.  Some people (okay maybe a lot of people), might say that Dorothy is a brat, but you love her to bits.  And Eloise too.  Of all your friends, the three of you are the closest, having known each other the longest.  There are a lot of misconceptions about kids that go to expensive prep schools, the biggest being that you don’t make friends, you make connections <insert eye-roll>.   You’ve known these two women since your days of school uniforms and college prep classes; you’ve seen each other through thick and thin, no one knows you better and is quicker to uplift and support you whenever you need.  They are the dearest, most loyal and steadfast friends a person could ever ask for and you dare anyone to say differently. 

“Okay,” you say, not one to give up on anything, even if it’s your friend’s short-term dream of eating in a restaurant that apparently doesn’t want any patrons, “what do we know?”

“Food and wine critics have been hinting that a major restauranteur is opening a new location this month and it’s going to be called ‘Lin’.  There’s no phone number you can call to make a reservation.  There haven’t been any private or soft opening invitations sent out.  There is no information or even contact information online.  The only thing I know is the location, and that’s only because my wine guy is supplying the restaurant and he told me he’s been making big deliveries in preparation for the opening.”

“Right, your wine guy,” you chuckle.  Of course Dorothy has a wine guy.  There's not much Dorothy doesn’t have. Nor Eloise.  Or you, for that matter.  You’ve always been more than aware of the privileges and good fortune bestowed upon your life by the sheer cosmic luck of having been born who you are and to your loving family – for the entirety of your life, you’ve been lucky enough to never want for anything, nor suffered any great misfortune or injustice.  You know you’ve done nothing to deserve such advantages and so you’ve vowed never to take any of it for granted.  You studied hard, work hard at a job you love, give back generously, and intend to make your way in the world with a positive impact on those around you, the way your parents have modelled.  And right now, Dorothy is in need of some positivity.

“Well go on, what’s the address then?” you ask; Dorothy perks up at this and shows you the address she has pulled up on her maps app.  “That’s right by my office!” you exclaim, surprised, “How about this?  I’ll go and poke around on my lunch break this week and see what I can find out?”

Dorothy squeals and throws her arms around you, and Eloise comes over laughing to join in the reverie.  Joyfully, the three of you spend the rest of the afternoon cooking up schemes for your investigative adventure on Monday.

Monday

You look up at the building number, then back down at your phone to double check the address.  This doesn’t look like a restaurant at all, never mind a trendy one on the precipice of opening its doors; this looks like… an office building.  You peek through the double glass doors and see exactly what you would expect in an office lobby: an information desk, a few modern design chairs arranged into a makeshift waiting area, and an elevator bank.  Pushing lightly on the doors, you’re surprised to find that they open easily; you step in to the quiet lobby and with a slight trepidation call out, “Hello? Is there anyone here?”  Met with silence, you walk in a little further and look around – not finding anything remarkable, no signs or directions for Lin or any other clues, you make your way to the elevator bank; surely there will be some sort of building directory near the elevators that can tell you something.

“May I help you with something, miss?”

You practically squeak from surprise before turning around to face the deep, accent-lilted baritone voice that snuck up on you.  Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t the tall, broad shouldered, brute of a man scowling at you.  His impossible width and towering presence, coupled with the scar over his left eye should be enough to frighten you, but his chocolate brown eyes flash a momentary softness that has you more curious about him than anything.

“Oh yes please!  Do you happen to know which way to the restaurant?” you figure pretending to know more than you do can’t hurt.

The stranger’s countenance shifts to something softer, something more like disapproval rather than outright distain (an improvement!) and he hesitates, as if deciding how to answer.  Then suddenly, as if to proceed before he can talk himself out of it, he gives a slight nod to the elevators.

Though he maintains his outward glower, Pero can’t help but be charmed by the gleeful smile you give him as you press the button to call the elevator; you look giddy with excitement, and he almost wishes he doesn’t have to disappoint you. 

Once the elevator doors open, you step in looking for any additional signs or clues on where you’re supposed to go; finding none, you decide you’ll just try every floor until you find what you’re looking for.  However, when you go to press the first button, it lights up at your touch but quickly dims when you let go. Same with the next button. And the next.  Holding the elevator door open with one hand, you peek your head out to find the tall stranger waiting for you at the end of the elevator bank, almost expectantly.  Although still wearing his scowl, you’re sure you detect a small smile itching to escape, struggling valiantly to tug up the corner of his mouth.  Ever so sweetly you call out, “Excuse me!  Do you know how I can get access to these floors?”

In response, Pero wordlessly holds up a plastic fob he retrieves from his pocket and smirks (there it is).

You chuckle to yourself; this is shaping up to be quite the puzzle.  You love puzzles.

The gatekeeper to the restaurant has already turned to silently return to his post when you step off the elevator and follow him; you find him sitting behind the information desk, looking sternly at his laptop and some papers.  You’re positive that he’s only pretending to 1) fill out the paperwork and 2) ignore you, so you don’t feel bad about the Grade A pestering you’re about to inflict on him.

“Soooooo… who gets to decide who you let up?” you chirp, cheerily.

Silence.

Your sweet tone does not waver one bit, “Is there a list?  Or like, an application, to get on the list?”

Silence.  Then something like a sigh.

“There must be a list.  How does one, get on the list?” you smile because you know you’re wearing him down.

“You won’t know until you try.”  Finally!  A response!

You make a big show of pretending to think, pursing your lips and tapping them gently with your perfectly manicured nails, “So bribery.  Cool, cool.”

Silence.

“Do you want… my sandwich?” you hold out the lunch bag you have in your hand from your favourite sandwich shop.

“No, thank you.”  Pero’s not looking at you; he’s afraid he might crack if he does.

“Good.  This is my favourite sandwich,” if you’re not mistaken, you think you see the stranger’s shoulders shake a little, as if suppressing a laugh.

But still, more silence. 

“Are you here everyday?” you tilt your head questioningly, and even though the man is not looking at you, you give him your widest doe eyes and softest pleading expression.

Pero almost wishes he hadn’t looked up, so instantly disarmed he is by the innocent look you’re giving him.  For a moment, he imagines what it might be like to have you giving him this same look from between his legs while on your knees, before he forces himself to snap out of his daydream with something close to a groan.  To cover up this noise, he gives a curt nod.

And then, although you couldn’t possibly be reading his filthy mind, you say, “May I come… back?” and Pero almost perishes when he hears the first three words of your question.  He once again gives you a brusque tip of his head so not to betray any of his thoughts.  Perfectly satisfied, you throw him another heart-stopping smile before practically flouncing out of the lobby, leaving Pero feeling positively thrown at what just happened.    

Tuesday

You stand in front of the information desk, patiently waiting for Pero to look up.  It takes him a few minutes to look at you, but you don’t mind.  You rock back and forth on your heels, taking in the finer design details of the lobby that you hadn’t had an opportunity to admire yesterday.

“Hello again,” his tone is gruff, but you think not unfriendly.

Excited, you brace yourself on the desk and lean forward, eyes full of mirth, “Hi!  Are you ready for your bribe?”

Looking impassive, Pero leans back in his chair and gestures openly with his hands, “Alright. Show me what you got.”

Pulling a container out of your bag, you place it in front of him and smile expectantly.

Pero examines the container with suspicion, but when he opens it, he does so with mock trepidation, as if the contents might explode and you giggle at his theatrics.  It’s the sweetest sound Pero’s ever heard.  Looking into the container, he sees it’s filled with cookies; he doesn’t know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn’t home baked goods.

He picks up a cookie and bites into it gingerly, trying to ignore how adorable he finds your look of anticipation.

“So?”

Pero arches his eyebrow in silence, a question in response to your question.

“Have I successfully bribed you into letting me and my friends up to the restaurant?” your eyes wide with hope.

“No, sorry.”

You can’t help but let your face fall, “Oh shoot.  Were they not good?”

“Oh no, it’s very good… just not my favourite cookie,” Pero knows he could lie to you, but he’s sure you wouldn’t want that.

“Oh!” This you can work with, “Ok, if we’re going to do this, I’m going to need you to rank it, so I know if I’m getting closer.”

You lean over his desk and help yourself to a note pad; pulling a pen from your purse, you write the date, then neatly next to it “Ginger Molasses” and “_ /10” before pushing the paper back towards the bouncer.  Pero tries not to smile while you impatiently watch him as he makes a show of thinking, tapping his fingers against his lip much like you did yesterday; he carefully pencils in a “7”. 

“Not bad, not bad, not bad,” you chant to yourself, invigorated as you get up to go.  “I’ll grab the container next time,” you say over your shoulder while giving the man a little wink.  Pero waits until you’re gone before stuffing his face with your delicious cookies.

Wednesday

The next day, you return on your lunch break with white chocolate macadamia nut cookies.  You’re not sure, but the bouncer looks like he’s expecting you; at least his scowling face seems to relax slightly when he sees you.

Keen to get started, you hurry through the usual pleasantries before quickly depositing the box in front of Pero.  Inwardly, he’s amused by your eagerness.

You burst out laughing when Pero holds up a finger after he opens your container and reaches down next to him to open the door of a mini fridge and pulls out a bottle of milk.  Confirming what he thought yesterday, that your laugh is the loveliest sound he’s ever heard, Pero’s chests puffs in pride at having been able to draw it out of you. He makes a big show of biting down into an oversized cookie for your amusement and takes a comical swig of milk before pulling out the pad you had used yesterday for the cookie rankings.

When you try to peer over him to see the score he’s giving, his hunches over and covers the paper with his arm, huffing dramatically.  You giggle some more.  You have to admit the bouncer is growing on you, his scary glare clearly a facade for work, because he’s actually quite funny.  And cute. 

Pero leans back and turns the pad towards you.  You see he’s written neatly under your writing from yesterday: the date and “White Chocolate Macadamia 7.5/10”

“Oh!  It’s an improvement at least!” you say with pride.

Pero nods, though not smiling, no longer bothering to put on his customary frown, “It’s very good.  But still not my favourite cookie.”

“That’s okay, I’m doing better, that’s what matters.”  Pero thinks that if he could be responsible for the smile that’s currently on your face for the rest of his days, he could die happy.

Then to his surprise, you pull out two more containers from your bag; for a moment, Pero thinks he’s in for another cookie, but when he leans forward curiously, he sees that the containers contain some kind of pasta salad.

Holding out one of the containers to the bouncer, you offer, almost shyly, “Can you have lunch?”

“No.” 

Oh.  Maybe this was too much.  Your face falls a little, before nodding, “I guess you’re working, sorry.”

Pero falters a bit when he sees your sweet face looking sad; he knows his grumpy exterior can put people off, but he didn’t mean to do so this time.  Not to you. “You can have lunch though,” he gestures to the other chair behind the desk, next to him.

You brighten immediately, face breaking out into a big grin, “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Pero pushes his chair in a little to give you some more room to pass behind of him. 

Happily, you plop down on the free seat and get out two forks.  You lay one on a container and push it towards him, and pick up the other to start digging into your salad, “Is it a rule you can’t eat here?  I hope you don’t get in trouble for the cookies.”

Touched by your concern, Pero explains, “There’s no rule, but it doesn’t look very intimidating if I’m savouring a baked good while turning people away from the restaurant.”

Mouth full of food, you cover your mouth daintily with your hand, “Why do you turn them away?”

“The owners are really passionate about this restaurant; so much time and heart has gone into every aspect, from the menu to the decor.  Lin is a fusion of Spanish and Chinese cuisines, with some Latin influences; all these cultures are rich in history, beloved and cherished by their people and the owners.  The restaurant is named for one of their wives.  They just want the people who come and eat here first to be people that will truly immerse themselves and enjoy the experience and food, appreciate it for the labour of love that it is.  Not people here for clout.”

“That’s really sweet.  I didn’t know Lin held such a special meaning,” you smile, genuinely touched as Pero tucks the containers you brought him away for later, “How can you tell who’s here for clout and who isn’t?”

“Just my gut,” Pero says simply; he reaches into his drawer and pulls out the container you left him with yesterday, cleaned.

You’re surprised and gratified, “Oh, thank you!  You didn’t have to clean it!”

“You would have done the same.”

“Well, I mean… yes, but…”

“Then you deserve the same back,” his tone kind, but factual.

You grin as you look down, taking the container before looking back up at Pero with an amused look, “You seem fairly sure in what you know about me, but you don’t even know my name.”

“I’ve just been calling you ‘Cookie’ in my head.”

You feel your face flush at the idea that he’s given you a pet name and tell him he can call you ‘Cookie’ if he wants, but also give him your name.

“Pero Tovar,” he introduces himself, holding out his hand; when you shake it, you’re pleasantly surprised at the gentleness with which he touches you.  You can feel a strength and self-assuredness in his grip, but the way he handles you is almost careful.  Like you’re precious.

“Ok, Pero Tovar,” you beam, loving the opportunity to let his name roll off your tongue, “what’s your favourite part about working here?”

“The bribes,” he quips without missing a beat before he winks at you.  You shouldn’t feel your heart skip a beat from such a small gesture, but you’re filled with a lot of fondness for Pero suddenly and you look back down at your salad so he can’t see the way you’re grinning.

He does see, however, and he finds himself experiencing a similar fondness for you.  He earnestly answers your question, telling you about the delicious food, the months of recipe R&D all the staff took part in, and the hardworking team they’ve put together upstairs.

The remainder of your lunch hour passes too quickly for your liking.  Your conversation with Pero never wanes; you find that not only do you have a love of food in common, but can apparently both talk about it for hours.  Pero is funny and thoughtful; something that is readily reflected in his more natural expression.  You almost laugh out loud each time a potential restaurant patron comes in and he immediately flips a switch and turns on what you now suspect is just a scary work persona.  Especially if once that person is out of sight, he immediately softens his handsome features and goes back to telling you about the best gelato he’s ever had.

Thursday

The following day, you’re met with a surprise as you approach Pero’s building; normally anytime you run into your friends unexpectedly, it’s a pleasant surprise, but it doesn’t appear to be very pleasant for Eloise and Dorothy today.  In fact, Dorothy looks downright surly. 

“Babes!  What are you doing here?  What’s wrong?” you exclaim, both confused and concerned.

“Ugh!” Dorothy actually stomps her foot, “That neanderthal won’t let us up for lunch.  What is it going to take?  He won’t even tell us why or give us a chance to change his mind.”

“Pero?” you ask, still unsure of what happened, “You talked to Pero?”

Eloise steps in, because Dorothy looks like she’s about to have an aneurism at the sound of his name, “We finished up some of the content we were making nearby, so we thought we’d come down and give getting in a shot, since you said you don’t think it’s impossible.  We figured, best case, you’re coming down here anyways – maybe we could all have lunch at Lin together, and worst thing would be we don’t get in, but then we’d be meeting up with you and we could go get lunch somewhere else?”

“NO,” Dorothy grits through her teeth, “The worst thing would be if we had to deal with that self-important ass.  Who died and made him king?!”

After what Pero told you yesterday about the owners of Lin and how they want their patrons to experience the restaurant, you know exactly why Pero didn’t let your friends up, but you’re not about to tell them lest you want to hear more expletives directed at him.  Maybe you can help smooth it over.

“Do you guys think you can give me ten minutes to talk to him?  Then let’s go to Quattro for lunch?” you ask, picking one of Dorothy’s favourite restaurants in an effort to placate her.

“Come on, Dorie,” Eloise tugs at Dorothy’s sleeve, employing the nickname only she and you are allowed to use, “There’s some really good lighting down the street.  Let’s get a couple more shots for Instagram.”

“FINE,” Dorothy begrudgingly agrees, then points at you, “but ten minutes only.  Then we’re coming in to rescue you from that asshat.”  You don’t tell her that her scowl right now could give that asshat’s scowl a run for its money.

When you walk in to the building and approach the front desk, your heart melts when you see Pero’s face crack a small smile upon seeing you, “Hey, Cookie.”

As you approach the edge of his desk, he moves to scoot forward in his chair like he did yesterday when he invited you to eat with him, “Can you stay to have lunch again today?”

Staying where you are, you shake your head and give him a look of regret, “No, sorry.  Not today.” You shouldn’t but you feel your heart warm a little at the way his face falls in disappointment.  You reach into your bag and bring out two containers, one with a sandwich for him, and the other with today’s cookie offering: salted caramel.

“I was going to stay, but now it seems that I have two very upset friends that I need to take out to lunch,” you give him a small playful smile so he knows it’s not (too) serious.

It takes him a second to make the connection, but the instant he does, his face reverts back into the deep scowl he probably gave your friends.  You’re not sure what possesses you, maybe it’s the desire to see the softer expression that he normally reserves for you, but you reach out and touch Pero’s face, your fingers lightly grazing the scruff of his jawline.  He looks at you with a small look of surprise but doesn’t move away.  “Please don’t judge them too harshly,” you ask of him gently, “I know they probably didn’t come off that way, but they’re the exact type of people who would appreciate Lin in the way that the owners hope.  They are very good people, I promise.  And very dear to me.”

Pero doesn’t know how he could ever refuse you anything, the soft lilt of your voice and the eloquence of your words would be enough to convince him of anything he’s sure.  He gives you a little nod and is rewarded with your sweet smile.

He misses your touch immediately when you withdraw your hand from his face; so much so that when you ask if he’s ready for today’s cookie, he reaches out to place his hand on your waist before nodding.

You gasp a little when he holds you, wondering how you got here, from strangers to exchanging small familiar touches in less than a week; but you can’t say it doesn’t feel right.  You don’t know what this connection with Pero is or where it’s going, but you know you don’t want it to end.

Opening the container, you tilt it towards him and watch him select a cookie.  Giving it a once over, Pero takes a big bite and chews thoughtfully as you wait for his verdict.  You don’t try to peek at the scorecard today, but when he shows you, it’s with an apologetic look on his face, “Sorry, Cookie.  Don’t be mad.”

“Oh no…” your eyes widen when looking for the number, “… a 2??!” You look up at Pero, horrified.  “Did I do something wrong?  Mix up an ingredient?”  You grab a cookie from the container and take a bite; it tastes as expected, no surprise ingredient or taste.  Oh no.  It tastes the way you think it should and he hates it.   

It’s so silly.  People are allowed to not like your cookies, but you hadn’t realized how badly you had wanted to impress Pero until you… didn’t.  He’s being very nice about it, still eating the one he’s holding in his hand, but you think you might cry; although you try not to, your face assumes the corresponding saddened expression anyways, “Oh, I’m so sorry they’re not good.”  You attempt to close the container and take it away.

Pero’s heart nearly breaks at the look on your face, and he chastises himself for being the cause.  Wanting more than anything to make you feel better, he gently takes back the container, “They are very good.  Really, Cookie,” he tries to convince you when you look up at him, dubious, “I’m just not a big fan of caramel, that’s all.  They’re still delicious.”

You can’t tell if he’s lying just to make you feel better, but a little part of you likes the idea that he would care to. 

Desperate now to make you smile, Pero suggests, “How about you and your friends come back tonight for dinner at Lin?”

“No!  No way,” you practically shout, to Pero’s surprise, “Not for a 2!! I didn’t earn it.”

He concedes a little, “It’s more like a 3, maybe even 4.  They’re delicious, just not for me.”

Shaking your head, you won’t budge, “No, no, no.  I don’t want your pity points.  It’s a 2, and that’s the final score.  And that’s not a sufficient bribe.  I’ll try again tomorrow.”

Pero breathes a little sigh of relief upon hearing that you plan on coming back.  When he reaches into his desk to get you your cleaned containers from yesterday, he confirms, “Ok, tomorrow it is then.”

As you’re packing away your containers, he continues, “…until then, I have something for you.”

You look up in surprise, “Something for me?”

“Of course. You bring me delicious food everyday, it would be ungentlemanly of me not to return the favour.”  With that, he pulls out a takeout box from the mini fridge that he’s been saving for you.

You’re delighted; you’re not sure what it is but you’re touched by Pero’s thoughtfulness.

“It’s the shrimp toast I told you about yesterday.”

You squeal, “From upstairs?”

He nods as you happily take the box from him; it’s one of the Chinese-Spanish fusion dishes that he had described to you that supposedly exemplifies the type of cuisine Lin does best.  He’s been looking forward to sharing it with you and seeing what you think.

“Oh Pero, thank you so much!  I’ve been thinking about this and how it might taste since you told me about it yesterday!  Is it okay if I share it with my friends?” you ask, shyly.

Of course, you would think of sharing with others; Pero nods his permission.

“Thank you, thank you!” you’re beaming and before you can talk yourself out of it, you lean down and give Pero a kiss on the cheek and promptly skip out the front doors.

Hand to his cheek, Pero watches as you wave over your friends, the same two women he had turned away from the restaurant not 15 minutes ago, and sees you excitedly present the box to them.  The three of you open the box, and peer in eagerly, each reaching in to take out one shrimp toast; you wait for each other and adorably cheers your food before each taking a big but elegant bite.

He can’t help but grin as he listens to your collective squeals and exclamations of approval that he can hear even through the closed doors.  The flavour explosion on your tongue is incredible, the flavours of the two cuisines melding perfectly; each bite is perfect.  “So gooood!” Eloise moans, and the three of you dance around happily while savouring a second toast each.  When you’re done, you wave enthusiastically at Pero through the glass and give him a big thumbs up, then you and your friends chorus “Thank you, Pero!!!” before setting off for lunch, giggling.

Friday

You had mulled over which cookie to bake all evening.  Pero doesn’t seem to like the cookies that are too sweet, which kind of feels in line with his personality, so you settle on Oatmeal Raisin; an oldie but a goodie.

Unable to contain the skip in your step when you’re heading to his building today, you’re feeling positively giddy.  And it’s all due to Pero.  He’s so different that you initially thought – he’s thoughtful, and funny, and capable of unexpected kindness.  Of course, he’s still a bit rough, bordering on fearsome, but you think it lends itself to his particular brand of handsomeness; his scruffiness and that scar over his left eye have invaded your dreams more than once this week.

Before you can even take out today’s cookies though, Pero invites you to sit down behind the desk and asks you to wait for him while he disappears into an opening in the far corner of the lobby.  You wait there for about five minutes, amusing yourself with what you might do if a restaurant patron were to come in, when you hear the ding of an unseen elevator and see Pero reemerge from the same alcove.

He’s carrying a little tray with a cover on it; setting it down in front of you, he says with exaggerated flair, “Lunch is served, princesa” and lifts the little silver dome.

The only thing that can distract you from the new nickname is the mouthwatering smell of the food that's on the plate in front of you.  Pero watches you examine the dish and is mollified when you ask, “Is that... stewed pork belly in an arepa??!”  Proud that you got it right away, he gestures for you to try it, and you enthusiastically pick up the stuffed patty and take a giant bite.  You can’t help but moan.  The rich savoury flavour of the pork is perfectly offset by the crisp veggies and the light spread inside the bread; the softness of the fat positively melts into the crispy texture of the warm arepa.  You’re in heaven. 

“Good?” Pero can’t help but feel a sense of pride from your obvious approval of the dish.

“Omigod, s’good,” you mumble, mouth still full. When you’re done swallowing, you feel a surge of tenderness towards the man in front of you who seems to share your love language of food, “Thank you, Pero!  This is so amazing.  Lin has to have some of the best food I’ve ever tasted.  This and the shrimp toast from yesterday are all so well executed and flavourful, and all so incredibly unique.  You can taste the love the owners put in; please, please pass on my compliments if you don’t mind?  This place is going to be such a success.”

Pero sits back down, looking at you with a look that you can’t quite place, something between adoration and amusement as you continue to stuff your face.  In between bites, you hand him your box of cookies, which he eagerly opens.  Unbeknownst to you, he’s already decided that he would give you and your friends the go ahead today; after yesterday, he knew he would do anything to put a smile on your face.  But he also didn’t expect you to have guessed his favourite cookie on the fourth try.  Devouring two cookies in a row, he takes out the now familiar pad of paper and marks down today’s score: 10, circled three times for effect.

You practically squeal in excitement, eyes wide in disbelief, “Really?! You liked it that much?”

Pero nods, thrilled at your reaction, “Loved it, Cookie.  Oatmeal raisin is my favourite.”

You throw your arms around him in a big hug, and revel in the warmth that flows through you when you feel his strong arms encircle your waist.  Getting a hold of yourself, you sit back down in your chair, making yourself presentable with your back straight and your hands clasped in your lap, “So, Mr. Pero Tovar, have I successfully bribed my way upstairs?”

Unable to supress his chuckle, Pero answers in equal seriousness, “I would say so.  How about tonight at eight.  Dinner for three, I presume?”

“Oh yes!  Thank you!! Eloise and Dorothy are going to be so pleased! And I am as well, of course,” you look at him with some renewed shyness, “Will you be working tonight?”

“I will.  I’ll probably be off before you finish dinner, but I’ll be here to let you up.”

“Ack!  I can’t wait!” You ask if you can help Pero with the dirty dishes, but he waves you off.  You leave him with the quiche you brought him for lunch before waving goodbye and texting the girls the good news.

---

At 8 p.m. on the dot, you, Dorothy and Eloise, walk through the front doors of Lin; Pero is in the elevator bank letting the people in front of you up, so the three of you wait patiently by his desk.  When he turns, he has his signature work scowl on, but immediately softens when he sees you.

“Hey Cookie, ready to go up?”

You nod happily, and introduce your friends.

“Oh, we’ve met,” Pero’s eyes narrow before he smirks, to which Eloise looks bashful and Dorothy puts on her most innocent expression.

Once you’re in the elevator, Dorothy pokes you in the back and gives you an encouraging look; taking a deep breath, you stop Pero’s hand when he reaches in with the fob and gently push him backwards, walking him back down the elevator bank.  Pero looks confused, “Is something wrong, princesa?”

Looking at him innocently, you ask, “Pero, may I have your phone?”

He unlocks and hands it to you without question, curious.  You quickly snap a selfie and put yourself in as a new contact with your phone number, before handing it back, “In case you get a craving for any cookies.”

Pero blushes when he realizes what you’ve done, but as he walks you back towards the elevator, he does so with his hand resting comfortably on your lower back.  Leaning in to press the elevator buttons for you, he whispers, “Can I call you later, Cookie?”

You answer with a quick peck to his cheek and a small nod; his grinning face is the last thing you see before the elevator doors close.

[alalaya2]

Tim Drakes Sleeping habits save the earth

10 the Crows are coming

In Celtic Mythology Morrigan is either Three sisters or one Goddess with Three Forms the Triplicate goddess. First there is Badb the Crow she is the foreshadow of the carnage to come in war, next is Nemain the havoc of war, and then there is Morrigan the Phantom Queen herself she is Death and Victory of battle. The truth of the Infante Realm is that it’s just a ‘Genetic Quirk’ on her mother’s side of her Family to have Three forms. Clockwork’s were three different ages, she had forewarning of war, war on the battlefield and when the war is won. If Pala Gotham hadn’t been Cursed, she would show her other two forms as well. As it was Morrigan was covered in Crows feathers she could Feel the stir of the battle Brewing in the air.

The Realms seem to be holding its breath the normal ebb of the Ectoplasm was stilled. This part of her was the part that knew things before they happened. It was the part that told her that she would fade and come back. It was the part that told her that her children would suffer, and it was better than the alternative. Normally this part of her would bother her but not today. This was going to be a battle worth it, normally war is not something that she looks forward to she is a Ghost, and a Goddess. The Fighting part is never a big issue, in fact she loved a good fight. It’s the Carnage, the loss of family and life that she doesn’t like.

This Battle, there were no large grey areas. The GIW were the ones in the wrong and everyone that mattered knew it. In the last 200 years there was only a hand full of groups that really deserved the beating they received, not all the individuals mind you, but the group as a majority did. The Nazis were such a group of leaders that deserved the thrashing they received. Morrigan Bared her teeth in anticipation at the injustice being corrected. It was time to join her daughter and with their reunion her curse would be broken.

Gothemites like the Celtics of old were part of the reason there were sayings like ‘Fuck around and you will find out.’ Lady Gotham got her Temperament from her after all. As she stepped through the portal that would take her to the spot ever one would be meeting at, she knew The Green Lanterns and the Justice League were going to start a Riot.

Fright Knight had offered the use of a portal to get to them to Earth faster he was happy to see his father, but he wanted to save the young king first then he would Celebrate the return of his family. A Pre reunion fight would be a good way to start the Celebration, plus His sister would kill him if he started the party without her. About 50 Lanterns were ready to come with him. If they took too long to contact them the guardian would send more, and earths government would fall under their rule until a new world government could be created. Phantom would not be happy if things went that far, and Fright would eat his helmet if they couldn’t handle the upcoming fight before they got to that point.

He was looking forward to seeing how his sisters Knights would handle the fighting back before she had been Cursed, she had been one of the best fighters in the realm and was the first in line for the throne. If Parish had not taken out their father and Pala was injured when she fought him, she would probably be the Queen of the Infante Realms. As it was she would only accept the best of the best her people had to offer.

Pandora gave him a knowing look “I am looking forward to see how my sisters have progressed with their fighting skills as well I think they will take out more than your families Knights.”

Fright huffed “like my sister would choose weaklings as her Knights”

Pandora Smiled slyly “A wager then, my sisters have better fights you take me on a date your Knights fight better than my living sisters I’ll take you out.”

Fight Knights Sputter is echoed by Clockwork and Frostbite in the Ghost Zone. Fright Knight Straighten up and Bowed to Pandora “I’ll take your wager on one condition I would like to use this fight as our first courting Fight together.” He gently reached out to take one of her hands and squeezed a little.

Pandora squeezed back and Grind showing all her sharp teeth “I accept!”

“Finally it only took you two over a thousand years to get your shit together” yells Lazarus as he throws his hands up in exasperation. “You to have been Mooning over each other I was going to help Clockwork with his Matchmaking if you had taken any longer.”

The new couple Flinched Clockworks Matchmaking planes did work but they were not fun for the people who were involved.

Fight cleared his throat a little in embarrassment “The portal is Ready lets talk about this later” He shuffled a little not taking his hand off Pandora's.

Lazarus Smiled at his son knowingly but didn’t say anything.

The Bat Clan were fascinated as Lady Gotham and Alfred worked together in a terrifyingly competent way planning how to take out the laws and the GIW. Congress, Judicial and President Puck Velasco to Repeal the law as the were looking at the largest Revolution gathering in America since its beginning. President Nightingale had a team going though all current laws to make sure nothing else that would cause problems. It was going to take a while as there were a lot of Laws, and the UN was not going to let something like this slip through for any Country on Earth as the Anti-Echo Acts were breaking Galactic law.

With each moment getting closer, all the teams moving to take out every GIW building. Lady Gotham Seemed to be getting stronger less gaunt and her gray skin looking less chalky. Gotham had always had a muggy feeling in the air, it was always there Night or Day, Hot or Cold, Rain or Very rarely Sunshine it was fading. The Gotham Knights were on edge from it as they had Grown up with the feeling for most of there lives. Bruce had enough “what is going on?”

Dora blinked in surprise and looked up from the plans she was reading at Gotham. Her jaw drops in surprise “her curse has broken.”

This causes the rest of the clan to really look at her “How?” asked Bruce.

“No Idea” Dora’s face became predatorial “she is healing fast she should be fighting fit by the time we are ready to leave. Before she was cursed, she was the top fighter of the realms. This is going to be so fun.”

Gotham Smiled “Yes, it is I can Finally give my knights the full protection I have never been able to give them before. I’ll be at half strength by the meet up time it will take me a few months before I am back to full strength, but I’ve only been about 5% power for the last 200 years.”

Bruce Blinked again “That explains some things.” The Clan looks up at the portal opening in the Cave it was go time!

Previous. Ao3 Next

[gods-favorite-autistic]

No because the way love ties into this season is so good especially during the last three episodes

Like we start off with all the Bad Kids going through it love-wise, Gorgugs just recently broke up with his girlfriend, Adaine had to leave her sister right after she reconnected with her only to find out that she moved out while she was away, Fabian is doing what Fabian is doing with Ecaf, Fig gets back to find out that her girlfriend will be going on a trip and she won’t be able to see her all year, Kristen is also going through her breakup with Tracker, Riz is still struggling with his sexuality and aromanticism, it’s a lot.

Then you have their individual b-plots with Fabian being left alone at home for a whole year right when he gets back (hoping to reconnect with his mom since he hasn’t been able to really do that for the first 16 years of his life) leaving him with no one to care for him so he tries to fill his home with so much noise that he can drown out the parent shaped hole in his heart, Fig taking on Gilears curse not through blood but through the sheer love that this man has for his child, Adaine not having the resources she needs but not wanting to burden Jawbone with that because that’s how she was conditioned to feel for her entire life, Riz struggling with the idea of losing the only friends (besides Penny) he’s ever had but knowing he’ll need to work himself to the bone to have even a chance of staying with them throughout college

And then you look at the entire Mordred Manor fight, Baron, Riz’s literal manifestation of all of his fears of being aroace coming to life, who has been here this whole time following Riz in his briefcase, a gift from his best friend who has denied time and time again of them being best friends but who gave him that gift out of love, using twisted manifestations of the loving, caring people of Mordred to attack the Bad Kids and even possessing and controlling to them to try and attack each other but they make it out and they break Gilears curse and they can leave Baron behind for now

AND THE LAST STAND dont even get me started on the Last Stand like they’re in mortal danger and yet Fabian is still teasing Adaine for her horrible joke like the siblings they are, Adaine helping Fig with her smite, Fabian calling out for Adaine the second he gets trapped because she’s Adaine, she’ll know what to do, the power of friendship getting them an extra spell slot, Kipperlilly slitting Buddys throat because she never truly cared for him as her party member, he was just an expendable pawn, Kristen trying to revive him despite how she might feel about him, it’s all love now, GOD

I could talk about other fights but I think this post is already very very long

AND there’s all the outside of combat moments that I love, like Riz’s mom trying to make sure he’s okay and he’s not being taken advantage of, the entire party trying to help Adaine with her crush, Fabian originally going after Ivy over Mazey because he’s better equipped to deal with someone mean and who doesn’t truly care about him over someone kind and good and who is concerned about him in a genuine way, Sandra Lynn still being unable to parent Fig in the way she deserves but she’s getting better, Fabian trying his damndest to reach out to his father, AYDAS MESSAGES, even beyond the party, Ankarna being corrupted by her followers but absolutely refusing to harm her ex wife and her sister, Zara Sool getting her powers from her beloved AUGH

THE LAST TWO FIGHTS THOUGH, Figs armor of Ayda, remember when we died, Oisins betrayal, Fabian’s speech to Ivy, Gorgug being driven by his love for his friends and refusing to turn to the rage of Porter, Adaines detect thoughts that ends up saving them coming from a gift from Fabian, Fabian being the one to do the divine intervention and Ankarna destroying Porter after seeing the pure love Fabian and Mazey have and refusing to let the injustice that would be them dying happen, Fabian’s talk with his dad, I don’t need justice against these people, Cassandra and Ankarna being reunited, AGJRJJESN

anyways. Fantasy High Junior Year. Rahhhh 🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅

[mha-quotes-and-such]

i just watched Inside Out 2 and it gave me an idea! (And I'm about to make it your problem)

So: if the League was responsible for someone's (probably not very mentally stable) mind, which emotion would each of them be? (It doesn't have to be an emotion from the film. Go wild if you want!)

Also, who would be in control the most? And is someone actually in charge?

So because I love to make things difficult for myself, I decided that they’ll not only have to be from the movies, but that each emotion can only be used once. That being said I think they’d be:

Joy - Magne. While Magne joined the League due to being discriminated and feeling out of place in society, I think shes the greatest example of someone who turned the League into a real home, and turned herself into someone she was proud of. She wanted to find a place where she could be herself, and find the confidence to be herself as well. And she did! She found that place and those people and found her own confidence and made her life something she could be happy with

Anxiety - Twice. Obviously a lot of his character is about being uncertain of himself and constantly being conflicted or contradicting himself. His general stance on himself is clearly a huge source of stress and anxiety for him, but also I think his jumpy/contradictory personality kind of embodies anxiety in a way

Ennui - Mr Compress. Alright I know this might seem kind of odd since hes Anything but the tired, bored, apathetic teen in Inside Out, but hear me out. He sorta acts as the counter to ennui. He doesnt really have a reason to be a villain other than he just. Wants to? He doesnt need to be dramatic or flamboyant but he Wants To. In a way, you say that he does find the world to be uninteresting or unappealing, and that on its own its not something he particular cares about. He acts the way he does because of that, he wants to make sure he doesn’t become bored and apathetic

Anger - Dabi. This ones pretty self explanatory I think. Hes angry at the world, at his family, at his life, at heroes, everything. His main motivation is that hes been wronged, and everyone deserves to pay for it. While a lot of the League are angry that they were wronged in some way, most of them have learned to cope with it in some way, or channel it into other goals and mindsets. Dabi never really learned to do this, and instead made his whole life a mission of revenge

Disgust - Mustard. He’s absolutely repulsed by heroes, especially those in training, seeing them as snobs who look down on others. He’s angry like Dabi, but in a way where social hierarchies play a lot into it. Maybe its just because hes a teen, but he reminds me a lot of stereotypical high school movies, where the dislike between kids is less focused on genuine injustices, and more on distain for social politics and a general sense of how much “better” you are than someone else. From what I remember of Disgust in Inside Out she had a similar vibe to her

Envy - Toga. While a lot of the league have a story about wanting something that others have (safety, friendship, self confidence, etc.) Toga is the one who acts on this the most, and in the most malicious ways. Her desire for other people or what they have is a main motivating force for her, and you can see that in the way she acts with other people, especially with how possessive she can be

Fear - Shigaraki. A lot of Shigaraki’s life has revolved around fear in some way. He started out as a timid child, scared of his family and later scared of himself. His fear was then taken advantage of by OfA, using it to mold him into the perfect prodigy in his teen/young adult years. As an adult, he serves as the face of the League, being a symbol of fear to the general public

Nostalgia - Kurogiri. While Kurogiri himself may not have any memories of his life pre-League, a lot of his story revolves around the past, and a life he can never go back to. Also the fact that Riley gets nostalgia later in life and Oboro became Kurogiri later as well matches up nicely I think

I couldn’t really think of anyone for sadness or embarrassment so. Whoops.

I think in typical League fashion, Shigaraki is in charge to an extent. At least if not in charge then he’s most prevalent. I think the person stuck with these assholes would be both a really worried person in general, constantly fearing that everyone is against them, but they would cope with that by trying to get others to fear them instead

[therainscene]

Will Byers: Be gay do crime, amirite?

Growing up means putting away childish things, choosing between marrying a woman or remaining celibate, becoming a wage slave with no free time, and accepting that this is how life works.

Fuck that!

Will would rather spend his time doing things he actually enjoys with the people he loves, and if he has to break some of society’s rules to do so... well, clearly the rules were bullshit to begin with and deserve to be broken.

But the spark of defiance we see in the van is a smoldering ember compared to the fire of S3.

Will jokes about Vegas and D&D, but that’s all it is -- a joke. Getting to spend the rest of his life with Mike has begun to feel like a silly fantasy, akin to using superpowers to commit fraud as a minor.

It doesn’t occur to him that Mike’s cries for help could be because he wants to escape comphet, not be pushed further into it. He weeps quietly over his self-inflicted heartache, back turned and mouth smothered, like there’s something unreasonable about his feelings.

What happened to the brazenly authentic boy who openly admitted that he expected to spend his life with Mike? Where’s the offended boy who called Mike out on his performative heterosexuality? The furious boy who screamed and sobbed and swore as he felt society’s homophobic standards closing in on him with all the inevitability of growing older?

Will is authentic and headstrong, but even he is getting slowly crushed under the boot of forced conformity.

Some of the GA think this is an acceptable outcome; just an inevitable part of growing up gay in the 80s. It’s realistic and relatable. Great queer rep!

Others decide that Will should become a villain -- after all, hasn’t he earned the right? The narrative has done nothing but torture him, so doesn’t he deserve to go a little apeshit? As a treat?

Henry Creel: Be gay do crime, amirite?

Henry is scathingly critical of society’s rules. He refuses to compromise his true nature by playing along, and no amount of punishment can force him to change.

His backstory is presented in a way that makes it difficult to sympathize with him -- I mean, ok, maybe he didn’t deserve to be jailed and tortured when he was just a child, but surely the Soteria was necessary, right? He’s dangerous.

But the real threat that Henry poses isn’t his willingness to kill -- it’s the power he has to rewrite the rules. And both he and his oppressors know it.

By locking him up (forcing him into the closet), torturing him (subjecting him to homophobia), and implanting him with Soteria (castrating him), they stripped him of agency and reduced his options to a rock and a hard place:

Continue suffering in obedient silence.

Go apeshit and commit whatever atrocities are necessary to escape. Embrace his role as the villain in a story where people like him aren’t allowed to be the heroes anyway.

(Hmm, those are same options that Will is expected to choose from. What an interesting yet surely meaningless coincidence.)

The tragedy of Henry’s story is that he did end up conforming to the rules in the end.

He didn’t choose the option his oppressors would have preferred, but he did choose an acceptable one -- he became the monster they’d already branded him as. Once upon a time his fellow outcasts might have gladly allied with him, but now they’re forced to stop him.

I love the symbolism of this shot. El’s rainbow is larger and pushes Henry back, while his is upside down, foreshadowing how the battle is going to end -- but more than that, it symbolizes their approaches in battle.

The motivation that Henry is using comes from the same place as El’s -- a desire for self-preservation, to defy authority, to fight for the rights of fellow outcasts -- but his has been twisted. He advises her to use a memory of injustice that makes her feel angry and sad...

...and while it’s very effective, it’s not enough. It isn’t until she thinks of a memory that makes her feel loved that she’s able to gain the upper hand.

Interestingly, the lights surge around her as she does this, bathing her in an ethereal white glow:

It fits the symbolism of the rainbow room perfectly -- after all, what is white light if not a focused rainbow?

But more importantly: where have we seen this before?

Will Byers carries the light with him wherever he goes, because he has the benefit of something Henry was cruelly robbed of: the unconditional love and acceptance of his family and friends, which helped hinder society’s efforts to crush the authenticity out of him.

So why should Will suffer the same fate as Henry? What’s stopping him from being the hero and earning the happy ending he wants, instead of the tragic ending homophobes expect him to settle for?

Like Henry, Will has the power to rewrite the rules -- and this time, they’re actually going to be rewritten.

[nexilu]

Several people criticize the way Dean reproached Sam for leaving for Stanford, saying it was completely unfair to Sam. I agree with that; however, Dean's perspective is often overlooked.

When I consider Dean's behavior and perspective, I realize it’s similar to a situation I went through when a close friend of mine left. While I surely didn't experience it exactly the same way as Dean, the feelings were quite similar, which helps me understand him better and see the reason behind his actions since I reacted in much the same way he did.

I'm not saying what he did was right or that Sam deserved it or whatever, because that's not the case at all. I simply want to analyze Dean's behavior by comparing it to my personal experience.

First, there's the element of surprise. Sam probably didn't mention his intention to go to Stanford before the night that ended with him leaving for college. When I found out my friend was leaving, she had only one day left to pack her things. The shock of such upsetting news being so sudden can cause a long-term resentment. It doesn't give you enough time to process what’s happening. You don't even have time to discuss or understand it, because next thing you know, the person is already gone, and you can't do anything about it.

This leads to a feeling of helplessness. Someone you are very close to leaving you impacts your life. Even if the other person makes the decision to change their life for the better, their actions will also bring changes to your own life (mostly in a negative way). You don't want the person to leave because you know it's going to be bad for you, but it's not your decision; the other person chooses to leave anyway, and you have no say in the matter. You are forced to endure the consequences of their choices, to feel bad because they didn't consider what their actions would do to you. This sense of injustice and helplessness causes anger. Dean must have been angry at Sam for doing what seemed best for himself because he didn't consider how it would affect Dean. It seems like they don’t care about you, because leaving you behind, hurt and scared doesn’t matter as long as they’ll get to live their sweet little apple pie life.

After the person leaves, you feel betrayed and alone. Those who promised to be there for you are not, sometimes it seems they have no memory it ever happened and other time they only make you feel worse (I can see John acting as if Sam never existed or to talk shit about him when Dean didn’t wanted to think about Sam).

Even if you know it's not fair to blame them because they did what was right for themselves, you can't help but be angry at them because what is good for them hurts you. By listening to their own needs, they deprived you of your happiness. It's as if they had to choose between you and themselves and chose themselves. Even if you know it was the right thing to do, you can't help but find them selfish, because you can’t control how it makes you feel.

Even if your mind understands and accepts their actions, your heart doesn’t, and unfortunately, it's often emotions that drive actions. I know that sometimes I was unfair to her, wanting her to feel guilty for how she hurt me and to regret her choice. That was probably also why Dean reproached Sam so much for leaving; he wanted Sam to feel guilty for hurting him. Dean is not stupid; he knew Sam's choice was the right one and even told him he was proud of him for making it. However, he can't forget all the pain it caused him. Even after years and forgiveness, this kind of pain leaves deep scars.

I think Dean understood Sam's choice; he agreed with wanting to have a normal life. However, the pain caused by Sam leaving him behind, the fear, and the helplessness predominantly influenced his behavior.

[farfromstrange]

Hello! I was wondering if you could do a Matt Murdock x reader one-shot?

If you aren't comfortable writing this, that's okay! Basically the reader in an abusive relationship with an older man and she meets Matt in a bar. They flirt over drinks and the reader goes back to his apartment with him in a lapse of judgment. The reader is enjoying herself, cracking jokes and pretending nothing is wrong. Because of Matt's extra sensory abilities he can tell there is something wrong with her though. She’s recently been injured and he can hear and smell some of her injuries.

She thinks he won't know she's injured because he is blind and they start making out at his place, but when he takes off her shirt he starts subtly checking her injuries. When he gets to her ribs he stops and questions the reader because he can feel that a few are broken. She insists it's nothing and tries to laugh it off and encourages him to keep making out with her. He tells her no because she’s hurt and she gets embarrassed and tries to leave. Matt can sense her panic and soothes her. He convinces her to stay and lie down so he can take care of her injuries and he comforts her as she cries and promises her boyfriend won't ever hurt her again.

Hello, lovely! I'm sorry it took so long for me to respond to this. Thank you so much for your request. Since this is a very sensitive subject, I tried my best to convey it in the right way, and thank God, I managed to finish it! I hope you're doing okay and that you like how I interpreted your request. Thank you again and take care of yourself <3

Narcissist | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Trying to catch a break from your abusive boyfriend, you find yourself seeking refuge and a drink at Josie's in the middle of the night. It's where you bump into Matt Murdock, a charming stranger with the promise of a night of fun. Little do you know that the seemingly normal stranger has a much better perception. After taking you home with him, it doesn't take him long to discover the dark nature of your need to escape.

Warnings: ANGST, description of domestic violence, abuse, description of injuries, kissing

Word Count: 7.5k

A/n: This request probably hits very close to home for some of you, so I want you to take care of yourselves and proceed with caution. There are resources for victims of abuse that you can turn to. I've found this page for victims of abuse that's available in 115 languages: Home « HotPeachPages International Don't hesitate to ask for help if you need it! Remember, this is a work of fiction and does not represent real life. Take care of yourselves <3

18+ MINORS DNI

The crowded bar around him is bustling with noise. The distinctive smell of cheap beer and vodka clouds his senses. The balls on the pool table keep clanging against the corners and sliding into the holes. Conversations start to overlap. 

Josie’s has always held a special meaning to Matt. As uncomfortable as it could sometimes get, especially on Friday nights like this one, the chaos makes him feel at peace. The noise inside cancels out the sound of injustice that reaches his ears from the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, and sometimes a break is all he needs. 

He finds himself nursing a drink at the bar, listening to the condensation of his beer bottle hit the wooden counter. Lost in thought, he only lifts his head when the door opens. The bell attached to the frame rings out softly, barely tuning out the sound of fun that has started to dominate the room. 

Matt hears the steady sound of your heartbeat first. The muscles in your body are tense, and while your breath sounds calm, there’s a certain edge to the way you move and order your drink only a few inches apart from him. He can hear the sound of your voice, the smile that is undoubtedly fake but makes Josie smile too - and she doesn’t smile often because the clientele simply doesn’t deserve her kindness. You, however, seem to strike a nerve with your attitude. 

He can’t deny that there is a light surrounding you, but that light is about to be consumed by darkness. He can’t explain why he gets the feeling that something might be wrong; he doesn’t know you. He doesn’t recognize the distinctive smell of your perfume or the unique rhythm of your heartbeat. You’re a stranger and yet his mind instantly starts to circle what lies underneath the person you pretend to be. You’re not fake, he would never suspect that. You try to be yourself, or the version of yourself you want to be, but there seems to be something that is holding you back, something that is dragging you down and keeping your soul in a knot. 

The many eyes he feels turning toward you and the uptick of a few male heartbeats in the bar tell him what he already suspected; you’re attractive, and your smile captivates people. From what he can hear in your voice, you must be a comfortable character to be with, and as you say something to Josie that makes her laugh and he hears your laugh, Matt’s attention is on your entirely now. He’s intrigued. 

His head is screaming for him to leave it be, to leave you be, but he can’t stop himself. When Matt Murdock has his mind set on something, he needs to have it, and at that moment, it is you he wants to get to know. He can’t deny it; as curious as he is about who’s hiding behind the almost painfully obvious mask you put on - to a man with his heightened senses, at least - he is also attracted to you. Judging alone by the way you carry yourself, the sweet sound of your voice, and the way your laugh resonates, he can’t help but feel drawn to you. It’s a mix between curiosity, attraction, and concern that motivates him to grab his beer bottle and approach the chair you’ve seated yourself on, sipping on your vodka martini alone. No olives, he heard you tell Josie. You told her that you hate olives. 

“Mind if I join you?” he asks. 

The moment your eyes fall on him, your heart skips a beat. Your jaw loosens as you eye him more carefully, your cheeks flushing, and the oxygen gets stuck in your lungs for a little too long. At least the attraction is mutual, he thinks, and your exhale carries a sense of determination. 

He holds his breath. Your eyes roam over him again, a different aura surrounding you now. “Sure,” you say, your voice almost hoarse, but he ignores it. 

Matt smiles, almost relieved, and sits down next to you. “Can I buy you another drink?” he asks. He knows yours is still full, but he can’t tell you that he can smell the liquor clinging to the glass, and how it always smells heavier when it’s full than when it isn’t. 

You frown, a cute little crinkle forming between your brows, and then you giggle. Your giggle is even sweeter than your laugh, and the blood rushes to your cheeks again. Your heart races. Though this time, your laugh is genuine. It sounds genuine, at least. He revels in it for a little too long.

“Um,” you begin, and your voice cracks as you try not to laugh. “I just got a drink. I’m usually not the glass-half-full type, but in this case, the glass is half-full. ‘Cause that’s the appropriate amount for a vodka martini.”

He chuckles. “I’m sorry,” he says and tips his glasses. “I should have thought about that question before I asked. I didn’t see… well, I can’t see.”

He listens to your heartbeat. There’s a moment of hesitation before you laugh, noticing he’s waiting for a reaction. You laugh and it’s genuine again. The concern he had before flies out of the window and what’s left at that moment is this feeling of pure awe when he imagines the kind of person that is sitting next to him, and that he managed to lighten some of your darkness with a joke he often uses. 

“So, you still have a drink and I know Josie well enough that I shouldn’t recommend her cheese fries. That means I don’t have much else to offer you except-” Matt extends his hand, “I’m Matthew. Matthew Murdock.”

He raises his hand and you lean back a little, swallowing and considering twice what to do with his introduction. He frowns. Your reaction seems odd, and he sees the darkness sparkling again. Slowly, he lowers his hand again and offers a comforting smile. 

“You don’t have to talk to me,” he says. “I didn’t mean to come off too strong. I just heard that you were alone, as weird as that sounds, and I thought you’d want some company because, uh, I’m also here alone.” He tips his beer bottle in her direction. “If I’m making you uncomfortable, just say the word and I’ll leave.”

You swallow again, eye him, then exhale. Your shoulders slack and you turn toward him, your attention not wavering. When he finally hears your name come out of your mouth with gentle shyness, he smiles brightly again. You even offer him your nickname and it relaxes him to know you’re not as uncomfortable as you had first seemed. 

“Nice to meet you,” he says.

You return the favor, “Pleasure’s all mine.”

“Just to check in,” he smirks, “Is your drink still full?”

He hears you giggle again and he joins in. “It’s half-empty,” you say. 

“Oh. Well, mine’s too.”

“Then maybe we should just keep drinking and you can buy me another one after that?” 

Matt smirks. You’re bolder than he thought. He sets the brim of his bottle to his lips and says, “Deal,” before taking a long swig. 

You do the same. 

At the beginning of the day, you would have never suspected you would end up in this position. If you’re being honest with yourself, it seemed like an impossibility before. You woke up to the same nagging feeling in your stomach. You woke up just to be torn down. But every person reaches their breaking point eventually. 

Over the past two years, your days have looked the same. Every morning, you’ve dreaded waking up the same way you’ve dreaded going to bed at night, knowing that hell would start again in the morning. It has become a downward spiral that has gotten out of control. 

Every morning, you have to wake up before sunrise to make breakfast or you know your first conversation of the day would be a fight. You have to pack lunch and you have to give a proper goodbye. You go to work, and you get a few hours of break, but every hour, after every meeting, you have to send a message to the one person you even dread getting back home to now. You have to account for your whereabouts, you can’t go out after work and you can’t have friends. You need to cook dinner or your night will end in more fighting and pain, and you would wake up in the morning twice as uncomfortable. Most of the time, you have to serve your body on a silver platter to finally make the night end, and if you as much as slip up once, you’re going to have to suffer the consequences because as a woman and girlfriend, it’s your job.

At first, you were blind. You met a nice guy, you went on a few dates and it seemed like a dream come true. You were happy. The quirks he started to show a few months into the relationship were red flags, but you were young and so in love with a man older and more experienced than you, you ignored the signs. You believed him because he’s always made sure to tell you he knows better. The things he asked of you, you did out of love, but the more time passed, the more you started realizing that you’d gotten yourself into quite a predicament. 

The red flags you hadn’t seen before are clear now, and you know that the life you’re living is no real way to live, but whenever you get a moment of clarity and want to leave, it’s the smallest display of affection that makes you fall right back into the trap. Your daily routine has become a standard. Your relationship feels like a job and it hurts, more often physically than mentally, but his words are scarring all the same. You’ve tried fighting back, but it has always ended badly for you. 

Tonight though, something snapped in you. You were frustrated and in a moment of strength (or weakness) you decided to leave. That’s how you ended up at Josie’s, a bar far away from the apartment you share with the man you fell in love with but hasn’t been the same ever since your relationship became official. You stormed out and you walked the dark streets until your feet hurt and you couldn’t wait for an unhealthy amount of liquor anymore. Your goal had been to get drunk.

Never in a million years would you have thought that someone like Matt would walk up to you, let alone offer you his company. If you came home that night and he found out, you know for a fact you would have died. Though as the clock keeps ticking and you keep talking with this stranger that is starting to feel less and less like a stranger, you don’t want to go home. The feeling of being listened to is alien yet comfortable, and you can’t help but feel drawn to him. He’s compassionate, he’s kind and he’s funny. He is the kind of man you thought your boyfriend was before he turned around and stabbed you in the back, and he’s kept you there ever since. 

Though when Matt turns his head to you, making sure you know you have his attention, there is a faint flicker of hope you had once thought dead hidden away deep inside, and it’s starting to show. Just for tonight, you decide, you shut the part of yourself off that you can’t even seem to understand. For tonight, you decide, you’re going to pretend everything’s fine and that you’re not stuck in a cycle made by the devil himself. You decide to have fun. And you haven’t had that kind of fun in a very long time. 

He’s a lawyer, he tells you. He’s his own boss, he works with his best friend and he only helps those who can’t help themselves. He prefers justice over money. He’s catholic. He’s everything your mother once told you to bring home, and while they like the man you’re with, they would hate him if they knew the truth. Most people would. It’s only human to hate a man like that, especially for the things he did and continues to do. You know you’re supposed to hate him, and deep down you do, but love is a fickle thing and you can’t help but need him, even after all he’s done to hurt you. And that, in your head, is fucked up enough to get another drink. 

You get so enthralled in another conversation that you almost fail to notice Josie’s glance from behind the bar. Her eyes carry a look of concern that have you wondering what you did wrong. That’s when it dawns on you.

You touch your cheek, noticing how some of the sweat from your forehead has started to dissolve your concealer. You’re not allowed to buy expensive makeup, so you settle for what seems the most natural, and it does little to cover bruises because you’re not allowed to go out most of the time anyway, and you’ve never had the most obvious bruises on your face before. Today, that is different. 

For a second, you’re relieved Matt can’t see the obvious blue discoloration of the skin around your eye, then you meet Josie’s eye and the panic settles in. You touch your cheek and flinch when you apply too much pressure to the fresh bruise, trying to hide the shivers that adorn your skin. 

Matt looks confused and at the same time concerned, reaching out to touch your back and ask, “Are you okay?” He calls your name and it’s the softest sound you’ve ever heard. 

You don’t deserve it, you think. You lied to him, you told him you were single and that you were simply at Josie’s for an after-work drink. You laughed with him and you allowed him to flirt with you. You don’t know what’s worse, the fact that you’ve lied to him or that you’re still lying to yourself by thinking any of this is okay. 

His hand brushes over a particularly sensitive spot just above your spine and you flinch. The sharp pain shoots straight down through the bone. It’s not his hand that lays on you now, it’s someone else’s. It’s the hand that bruised the skin. You know it’s not Matt’s fault, he doesn’t know what you’re hiding, but the anger inside your chest begins to bubble up. You’re agitated, and you know this is all on you. It can’t be on anyone else because you’ve put yourself in this position. 

You hastily scramble for your bag. 

“Where are you going?” Matt asks. “Did I say something wrong?”

You are quick to assure him, “No, not at all, I just… I gotta use the bathroom real quick. Excuse me.”

He follows you with his hearing alone, confused and concerned at the same time. Your steps retreat toward the women’s bathroom. The wood falls back into its hinges behind you. He can hear you placing your bag down on the sink and searching for something. The squishy sound of a tube of concealer fills his ears as you take out the sponge and apply some of it to your cheeks, rubbing the color into your skin. 

What you don’t know, he’s heard the hitch of your breath and the uptick of your heartbeat whenever a bittersweet lie has slipped past your lips. He could smell the fear radiating off your body. Whenever his hands brushed your skin, you grew uneasy but at the same time aroused by the simple action. You’re stuck in a weird middle space between attraction and anxiety and he’s starting to piece the puzzle together. 

When you flinched when he touched your back, he knew. He could feel the bone under your skin shift and the blood pooling in one particular spot. The nerves stretching over the muscle are inflamed, he noticed, and the fear that has suddenly spiked your heartbeat and prompted you to storm off into the bathroom set off the alarms in his head. 

Inside, you’re trying your hardest not to cry as you pat the concealer onto your skin. The bags under your eyes look so much heavier in the artificial lighting. The bruise is starting to sparkle a bright purple at the edges and the veins in the corner of your eyes are redder than usual. The vessels that burst only a couple of days ago still haven’t recovered. 

And your mind begins to reel; you wonder where you went wrong. Deep down, you know none of this was your fault, but as you look at yourself in the mirror and the ghastly picture on your right eye imprints in your brain, you begin to wonder if there was something you could have done better.

Usually, your days turn into a blur, but today remains a vivid picture in your mind. You once told yourself that if you stick to the rules set for you, you could be somewhat happy. Last night, you forgot to think. Your work day had been rough and when one of your colleagues asked if you wanted to grab a coffee with them, you were too exhausted to say no. A crowded café sounded better than the hell awaiting you at home. You lied and texted your boyfriend that your boss dropped another load of paperwork on your desk, and at first, it seemed like your lie worked. 

The people you work with are all around your age - some of them are even fresh out of college, and there is this guy, Louis, who’s simply a joy to be around. It was just a cup of coffee and a small stroll around New York, but when you came home and noticed you were still wearing your colleague’s jacket, there was not much that could hold the man you share a bed with back from unleashing his anger on you. 

You lost count of how many times you apologized. You didn’t cry, you simply let him have his way with you. As twisted as it may sound, you thought you deserved it. His hands and his words made you feel so incredibly small, you searched for the fault within you. You thought you did something wrong by accepting a friendly gesture, by doing something for yourself, and by being human. He’s always had a way of making you believe what he believes, but last night, he went too far. 

You’ve often been incapacitated by his punishment, but he left you completely humiliated, bloody, and bruised to sleep on the couch with bruises that still bothered your back from his outburst a week ago, and you found yourself crying yourself to sleep. It didn’t stop there. This morning, he barely paid attention to you, and for every word you said, he made sure to tear your pride down even further. By the time he left for work, you were late and crying and the kitchen was such a mess, he threatened to make you regret it if you didn’t clean up right this instant. So you stayed behind, you cleaned up, you put on the concealer that has become a shield from the prying eyes of the world, and you went to work. 

The last straw came when you arrived home long after him and he didn’t get the dinner he required. This time though, when he raised his hand and continuously beat down on the bruise around your eye, you didn’t lay down and cry. You waited until he was done and tucked into bed, grabbed your bag, and stormed out. What compelled you to make the decision, you aren’t sure, but it seemed to have been the right thing at the time. 

Though you know that if you decide to come back home in the morning, a black eye and a few broken ribs will be the least of your problems. 

You’re angry. You’re angry at him for making you doubt yourself and the life he’s forced you to abandon so many times before. You’re angry at him for taking your pride and turning you into someone too afraid to stand up for themselves. 

You make a decision, and it’s a decision you should have made a long time ago. 

Matt lifts his head when he hears you approach. There seems to be something different about the way you carry yourself. It’s an angry determination, a thirst for revenge, but at the same time, he can tell from the way you move and look at him that the attraction he has caught before has not once wavered. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” you ask him. 

He’s taken aback. The rational part of him screams that you’re in no state to make such a decision, but the rational part is also the concerned part and he knows that if he says no, you will find someone else to take you home and you probably won’t be as safe as he wants you to be. With him, at least, he knows you’re safe. 

So Matt makes a decision too. Unbeknownst to you though, he has a different motivation in mind when he says, “Let’s go back to my place.”

Your eyes light up and your lips curl into a smirk. “I’d love that.”

Your bold question inevitably leads you into a mouse trap. One second, you’re admiring Matt’s apartment in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen and the way the Billboard’s green color illuminates the brown furniture, the next you have discarded the coffee he made you and find yourself seated on his lap. 

He’s a good kisser. Not that you have much experience in that arena, but as soon as you decide to kiss him - because in your life, hardly any decisions are ever yours - you get lost in the soft feeling of his plump lips moving effortlessly against yours. It’s as if he studied how to kiss. 

His hands on his hips are gentle and steady, yet he keeps you pressed to him as if he’s scared of losing you. You tangle your hands in his hair. The brown locks feel like heaven under your fingertips and you sigh into his mouth. His tongue slips between your lips and he makes sure to taste every last inch he can reach. 

You can feel his cold fingertips on your bruised skin underneath your shirt, but you don’t mind. Maybe it’s because he can’t see that you’re not scared of his touch. 

When he calls your name softly and asks, “May I?” as he attempts to take your shirt off, you’re taken aback for a second. The way he asks leaves room for you to make a choice. With a soft smile, you nod and he slides your shirt off. 

Leaning back down, you capture his lips once more. He smells like rain and sandalwood. He reminds you of a beautiful day in fall, the sun shining down on the still-wet ground as the leaves sway in the wind. His calloused fingers send shivers down your spine, but his touch has never been gentler. 

You know what you’re doing is wrong, but the sin of his lips tastes sweeter than heaven, and if wanting him was such a bad thing, you would gladly go to hell. Matt is a stranger, yet he makes you feel more alive than anyone else ever has. He sets your body on fire with a single touch, his lips dancing to a choreography that is now etched into your brain. He holds you close, he keeps you safe, and the pleasure that ripples through you is a new sensation that makes you feel so alive - for a moment, you finally forget about everything else. You forget about your boyfriend, you forget about the bruises and you forget about the fear and the pain that seems to follow you everywhere you go. You don’t feel the need to hesitate; you just want him. 

You get so lost in the taste of him, you misjudge the placement of his hands as sexual intimacy. It’s only when he pushes you away ever so softly that you open your eyes, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed, and lips swollen from his vicious attack on them with his teeth. You look at him, your eyebrows furrowed. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you try to regain your breath. 

The green light reflects off his brown irises, his unfocused eyes carrying a sense of concern as they roam your face. He reaches out to touch your cheek, his other hand staying on your ribs. His thumb traces circles over the obvious bruise that adorns your right side, and he manages to find the bruise you’ve covered on your face with ease. Your mind is hazy and you can’t find it in yourself to question his actions. Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach and you watch him closely, the concern multiplying with each stroke of his fingers. 

His voice is soft yet hoarse when he speaks up. “What happened?” he asks. 

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“You’re hurt.”

Your heart starts beating faster. “It’s nothing. I’m okay. Let’s just keep going…” You lean back down to kiss him once more, but he stops you. 

“Sweetheart, your ribs are broken.”

At first, you wonder how he knows, but your curiosity is quickly replaced by the need to shield yourself. 

“I’m not going to take advantage of you while you’re injured. I need to know,” he says softly, “who hurt you?”

You pull away suddenly, climbing off his lap. You find your shirt on the floor and put it back on. Your heart races. His question runs circles around your head. Your hands shake as you get dressed again, and Matt whimpers softly at the loss of your warmth. 

He calls your name. Your silhouette is burning with fear and he is half-convinced that you might get a heart attack if your pulse doesn’t slow down. He knows he’s hit a nerve. The suspicion he’s had before becomes clearer, but he doesn’t want to assume something without hearing it from you first. Judging from your determination though, he needs to act fast or you will get yourself in danger as soon as he lets you out of the door. 

“This was a mistake,” you mutter under your breath, your voice quivering. 

You would be lying if you said this was the first time someone asked you this, but it wouldn’t be a lie to say that this is the first time someone has been genuine while asking, and it’s that part of his voice that breaks your heart and urges you to run. You made a mistake, you’ve meant what you said, but you’re not sure if Matt is the problem. If anything, spending time with him has proven to you that the mistake is sitting at home, waiting for you to come back and beat you into submission over and over again.

Matt cares and the fact that he does hurts so badly because now you realize how stupid you’ve been ogling for a love that has been built on violence and manipulation from the beginning. Your boyfriend has never loved you and he probably never will, and realizing that hurts even more than the fact that you’re about to push someone away who seems as if he just wants to help - and help is what you need, but God, do you hate admitting it. 

You should have known Matt wouldn’t let you go without a fight. 

He reaches out to catch your arm. “Wait,” he calls out for you softly. “Don’t go, please. I’m sorry, I just… I’m worried about you. I feel like you’re hiding something and I’m afraid that if I let you go now, you’re going to get seriously hurt. So please… please, talk to me.”

“You don’t even know me,” you snap, a pathetic attempt at keeping your heart safe from the vulnerability. “You don’t get to do this.”

“Someone’s hurting you.”

You swallow. The tears are threatening to fall. You’ve had a rough couple of days - no, you’ve had a rough two years and you’ve been waiting for a lifeline for so long, you eventually decided to give up. But there he is, Matt Murdock, holding out his hand for you to take. The lifeline is so close yet so far away, only because the fear that has seeped into your soul keeps you tied to the ground, unable to fight back. Oh, you want to fight back, but you’ve never learned how. You want to reach for the lifeline he’s throwing you, but you’re afraid of what it might mean. 

Matt tugs at your arm again. He says your name and you listen. The soft sound is about to snap the invisible string that keeps you detached from reality in two, and the tears are about ready to fall. 

“I know I don’t know you and I have no right to ask about your personal life, but I can tell that you’re scared. I can tell that you’re hurt. I won’t force you to stay, I’m not that kind of man, but I also don’t want you to leave. Just tell me, are you safe?”

You open your mouth, but the words won’t come out. 

“Are you okay?” he asks again. “If I let you go now, are you going to return to a home that is safe for you to stay in?”

So many questions and only one right answer. He doesn’t need to hear you say it to know what your answer is going to be. 

He lets go of your hand, albeit hesitantly. You don’t move. He expected you to run out, but instead, you stay. You stand there and don’t move. It’s as if your heart has made a decision that your mind is still arguing with, but he can tell that you’re not going to move. 

Once again, he calls your name. “Are you going to be okay?”

The invisible string snaps. “No,” you whisper.

Matt tilts his head. He doesn’t push you, he simply holds out his hand again. 

This is the first time in two years you say it out loud, but it sends the stone rolling down the hill and the tears start falling. “I think I need help…” You suck in a sharp breath, but it’s too late. The dam has already broken. 

He nods softly, opening his arms to you and you take the hug without hesitation. When was the last time someone has hugged you? You’re not sure. It’s been a while. You’ve been detached from the real world for so long, you almost forgot what it’s like to be human, to receive affection, to live your life the way you want it, and make your own decisions. You forgot what it’s like to breathe. 

Violent sobs wrack your body. You feel yourself shaking in his arms. His touch offers a sanctuary for you to release your anguish, and you do so plenty. The tears cascade down your cheeks, wetting your shirt and his. He only holds you tighter, making sure you don’t collapse. 

Every inch of your body is trembling. Fire spreads through your muscles, and the tension within them starts to dissipate. It slips off your shoulders and shatters to the floor like fragile glass. You realize that you’re just as fragile. Your foundation has taken so many hits, so many cracks, and you’ve tried everything to keep yourself upright. You developed methods of survival, but you’ve never truly lived. You’ve spent the past two years caged in, not even allowing yourself to cry because he considers it a sign of weakness. 

As Matt holds you close to him, the sickening feeling of loneliness is still there, but you no longer feel alone. You feel listened to. You feel comforted. It’s almost overwhelming. You find yourself unable to breathe while at the same time breathing better than ever before. Your body quivers again, and his grip tightens. You can feel his lips on your scalp, his fingers painting a pattern on your skin through your clothes. 

You’ve been scared and you’re still scared, but with Matt, it seems a little more bearable. There is something about him that just won’t let you go, but you mean that in all the best ways possible. 

As the waves of despair crash over you, you find solace in the warmth of his embrace. His steady presence and compassion create a haven amidst the chaos.

Gradually, the storm subsides, leaving behind a sense of catharsis. With tear-stained cheeks and a trembling voice, you gather the shattered fragments of your story, ready to share them with someone who truly listens, understands, and cares. You need help, you know that. You can run, but you can't escape on your own. And in Matt's unwavering gaze, you find the courage to speak your truth.

Silently, he guides you to his bed. He lays you down gently, encouraging you to take off your shirt. You’re not sure what the ointment he brings into the bedroom is made out of, but your tears make it impossible to speak. 

“This might sting,” he mutters. 

It wasn’t a lie. The scent alone stings in your nose, but as soon as the salve hits your skin, the cooling effect tunes out the pain of it all. You let out a trembling breath. 

“I’m sorry. You’re doing great. I’m almost done.”

He covers every last bruise you point out with the ointment. He cleans the concealer off your face and presses an ice pack against the bruised skin. He doesn’t speak. His ears are focused on the sound of your calming heartbeat and the comfort displayed in your body language. He listens to your breathing. He focuses on the signs that tell him that you’re alive and that you’re safe with him. He focuses on the feeling of your skin beneath his fingers, the jump of your pulse, and the way you reach out to hold his forearm as he pays close attention to the scrapes he finds on your arm. 

On his way up your body, he catches a single tear that has slipped your eye and started running down your neck. He strokes along the wet trail until he reaches your face. His thumb brushes over your cheek and he smiles, his brown eyes warm and focused. 

You look down at where he’s kneeling next to the bed, his hands still gentle, his touch never pressuring you into something you don’t want. You shiver. The ice around your heart has melted, leaving you behind naked and vulnerable, and your defenses are finally gone. 

He catches another tear. “Who did this to you?” he asks. 

You gather all of your strength to answer. “We’ve been together for two years,” you tell him. 

“So he’s your boyfriend?” There is a different sound to his voice now. 

You nod. 

“He did this to you?”

You nod again. 

“Regularly?”

“Yes,” you say. 

“Jesus Christ,” he curses under his breath, and you swear you saw him grab the cross necklace that is dangling off his neck. If he’s praying for self-control or your safety, you’re not sure. Maybe both. 

You take a deep breath, the weight of the past continuing to drag you down, and your boyfriend's voice loud and clear in your ear, threatening to hurt you. But not this time, you decide. You're stronger than that. In a short amount of time, you've seen how much better you deserve, and how much better you could have, and you want to learn how to breathe again. You want to make your own decisions. You don't want to be fueled by revenge or afraid to be hurt; you just want to live. That's all you've ever wanted. To live and to be in love, there has to be another way because what you've been shown up until now has been anything but genuine love. 

"It started small,” you begin, your voice still shaky, and the tears continuing to run, “insignificant things at first. He would get angry over the smallest mistakes or things that didn't go his way. But then it escalated... his anger, his violence. It became a pattern, a cycle that I couldn't break free from. He had these rules… I broke ‘em. I broke ‘em a lot, and whenever I screwed up, he would…” You swallow, the words too painful to utter. 

Matt understands. He knows what you want to say and he squeezes your hand, offering his support in the only way he knows how to. His touch is gentle, a kind of touch you’re not used to but want to get used to more than anything because it’s a touch like this that you’re craving. 

“None of this is your fault,” he says. His voice is gentle and affectionate toward you, but you don’t miss the unbridled rage hidden away inside. 

You don’t blame him. 

"I mean, I know. It's not like I don't know what abuse looks like, and I know it's wrong whenever I'm lucid, but then he looks at me and I just... I used to blame myself, and think I was the one who caused it. But deep down, I knew it was wrong. I just... didn't know how to escape,” you say. “So I played along because sometimes, he'd be the man I fell in love with and I wouldn't hate him as much, and he'd make me believe I needed him. He made me believe that serving him is all I'm good for, and I truly believed it. Sometimes, I still do. I feel so stupid now. God!" You sniffle, and the next sob breaks free from your throat.

He shushes you. “It’s still not your fault and it never was. Men like that… they thrive off of power and there is something seriously wrong with them, not with you. Please, believe me.”

“Then why didn’t I run?” 

The helpless sound of your voice breaks his heart. “He made you dependent on him. He forced you into submission. It’s co-dependency. It’s not your fault.”

The more he repeats the same four words, the further they settle in. They break through your mindset with a hammer, find a free spot in your mind, and manifest. 

"I understand, I really do," Matt says. "You deserve to be loved and understood, not used and abused. Leaving an abusive situation is never easy. But you took the first step today, acknowledging that you need help. That’s something you should be so incredibly proud of…”

You wipe your cheeks. “I just feel so empty,” you admit and he nods.

“Yeah, I get that.”

“And I’m scared I’ll go back to him. I don’t want to. Please, don’t let me go back to him.” 

Your arms reach out and he doesn’t hesitate to hold you close again. Rubbing your back as you sob, he whispers soothing sweet nothings into your ear. You cling to him, you cling to the lifeline he offers and he makes sure to keep your head above water this time. He won’t let you drown. 

“You’re not alone anymore,” and he says your name with the utmost conviction. “I’ve got you. We’ll find a way to keep you safe, okay? I promise.”

“I was so scared,” you sob. 

“I know.”

“I was so scared no one would believe me. I feel so foolish now.”

“I know, it’s okay. You did the right thing. Don’t blame yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says.

It’s not your fault.

You repeat the same four words over and over again, and they manifest even deeper. You need to believe them, you want to believe them. 

He continues to hold you until your sobs have subsided and you can breathe again, looking at him, and he smiles back at you. 

Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you ask, “Matt?”

“Yes?”

“What do I do now?”

“I’ll keep you safe,” he says. 

“But how…”

“Trust me, I’ll find a way.”

You look into his eyes, and almost as if he can feel it, he comes closer. “You know, I’m not that good with trusting people,” you say, your voice soft and almost bordering on a whisper. 

Matt smiles and brings your hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle individually. It’s a simple display of affection that has your heart doing cartwheels. You feel warm inside. You haven’t felt so warm in a while. He’s found the key to a hidden part of you, a part you’ve been forced to bury, and he’s made it his mission to unlock it - and it worked. 

“I’m not that good with trusting people either,” he says, almost as vulnerable as you, “But I care about you and I want to help. I’m going to help. There’s always a way, and I’m a lawyer, I know people we can talk to to make this guy suffer for what he did to you. I promise to keep you safe, you can trust me on that, whatever it takes. I'm here for you. You've been through so much, and I want you to know that you're safe now."

You sniffle. "It's just... it's been a long time since someone cared enough to ask if I was okay. I didn't think anyone would believe me if I told them. This is so overwhelming, and it feels too good to be true." A sad smile spreads across your face. He reaches out to trace your features, gently trying to memorize every last crevice, painting a picture of you in his mind, and it's not just your soul that is so tragically beautiful. 

He smiles softly, keeping his hands on your face, a silent way of grounding you, of being close to you without pushing boundaries. He wants to be close to you, craves it, he wants to protect you and keep you safe - and he wants to make the man who hurt you so deeply to suffer. "I believe you," he says. "I want to help you heal. I want you to get the justice you deserve. You don't have to face this alone anymore. I know we don't know each other, but I would never leave you hanging, especially not in a situation like yours."

Fresh tears spring into your eyes as your sad smile turns almost grateful. You close your eyes and lean into his touch. "Thank you," you murmur. 

“Anytime,” he whispers back. “You deserve to be loved and cherished. You’re a good person.”

“I forgot what it feels like to be loved…”

Grabbing your hand, he squeezes it gently. “I know,” he says, “But you’re going to remember. I’ll help you remember if that’s what you want. ‘Cause you’re too good to be used like that.”

You chuckle, a tear sliding down your cheek. “That sounds nice, actually,” you admit. 

“Do you have anywhere to go to?”

You think for a moment; your family lives out of town and you don’t have any friends. You’re completely and utterly alone and the realization strikes you hard.

Matt hears the change in your heartbeat and his face softens further. “I take that as a no,” he says. 

You look away. You know you don’t want to go back, you can’t go back, he promised you wouldn’t have to go back, but you also have nowhere else to go. 

But then he is there and he grabs your face with both of his hands, underlining what he had actually meant to say. “You can stay here,” he says.

Do you want to stay with a stranger? You contemplate. You’ve asked him for help and you appreciate the way he makes you feel so secure, but there is this dark part of you that is afraid of what might happen if you do and suggest to not put up a fight and go back home. You need to choke out that dark part of you.

“You deserve better.”

And you hope you can remember that. 

“He can’t hurt you here, so I want you to stay with me. Just for tonight. Just until we’ve figured out a way to keep you safe permanently, okay?” 

The look in his eyes in genuine. “You mean that?” you ask. You’re not sure why you trust him so much, or why you don’t even consider questioning how he plans on protecting you because something tells you he knows what he’s talking about, and maybe that’s because he’s one of the most expressive men you’ve ever met. There is not a lie that could have slipped you. 

“I swear on my life,” Matt says. 

In desperate need for a break, for safety, for solace, you nod. “Okay,” you say.

He leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you.” Though it is you who has to thank him.

Matt Murdock just saved your life and you don’t quite know how you could ever fully repay him for not giving up on you like most people in your life have ever since you were born, and for the first time, you truly believe that you don’t have to return to the same hell you just escaped from. He’s got you, you trust him on that, and as you lie in his bed that night, trying to fall asleep, a sense of safety settles in that finally reignites that glimmer of hope that had gotten lost on the long, rocky road to where you are now. 

[gleefultogo]

Aira Character Talk

Since Aira was mentioned again in Saltyplaytoons (spongebob reference? Lol, funny either way) blog post I wanted to take a deep dive and talk about her. Plus at this point she’s the only pure character that deserves to be rescued from this shit comic and not written by a misogynist. She get’s shit on for no fucking reason. 

It is very well known now that kique has stated that she is his “least” favorite character. Why? Probably because she’s another female character he made and got bored of her. Honestly it saves her the injustice he would have given her if she had more screen time.  When we first met Aira, she was stuck in her creature form. I thought at first she was an evolved creature that was based on Aedra and her beast form was pretty cool in my opinion it looked like a mix between a cat and a dog. Which btw people was made and turned into by a Spirit, so that quickly leads my thoughts into rhov’s and feaf’s future kids. If a spirit can turn a dog into an evolved creature, then it’s very much possible because of the spirits for them to have hybrid kids. Will it be canon? I don’t know, like many have said; it’s obvious kique is bored of his own comic and shoved into our faces just to keep pages being pumped out with nothing really interesting. For me, I see the comic as a sitcom show that just goes nowhere and the characters do and say random stuff that doesn’t revolve around their world or plot. Besides, you can’t tell me half of the characters in this world wanna sit cooped up in one area based on “Tribes” Dog’s just don’t do that they would have way too much pent up energy and would need to run. Can you just imagine if this comic was realistic,  the dog's muscles and bone structure would become weaker because they aren’t doing anything really, they just sit in one place and that's it. Ok sorry, back to Aira :) 

   (Aira’s first appearance form)

You see what I mean though? She resembles a sorta dog and cat hybrid mix. The paws are a dead giveaway as they look like a feline and she has retractable claws. It’s a neat design in itself. I'll give kique that much of any positivity for his comic XD. 

Very Interesting design features if you ask me. Anyways, Aira gets killed by kargo and she wakes up a normal dog again and sets off into the woods to heal her wounds I guess? Probably also went to seek shelter maybe. We later on see her again on page 138. Heavily bleeding still and this when she meets keirr and you know how it goes. He ends up helping her and she’s taken aback from being surprised I guess, which is quite valid of her character, as we do eventually learn about her backstory and she was never treated kindly by others. Aira is a character who’s a really good example of someone who would have a “fixation” on someone, I don’t think it would personally be a bad thing and realistic to her character because she’s never been treated so kindly before and i don’t think she’d be able to help herself with that mindset. She obviously took comfort in keirr  as she hesitated to follow him at first, but also because he was offering to help her and wasn’t appearing a threat to her.

  (oh look when keirr was actually a nice guy, before becoming a dick to her) 

Moving forward. Keirr takes her back to her cave and was suspicious why she was living in such a large area for one individual. Aira remains mute and just eats the food she was given. Which I suppose was rude on her part, but her communication skills seemed to be lacking as she was trapped inside a body and couldn’t talk for a long time, ok at least that makes sense because there is a valid reason enough for her to be doing that. Eventually keirr leaves her behind as she is now safely placed back into her sheltered area. But she ends up following him and keirr ends up venting to her about why he couldn’t go back to his family, he was understandably grieving over zilas. I find these next few parts important to Aira’s character. She willingly sits there even if not knowing him for not a very long time. But she sits there and listens to him vent and doesn’t question him, that’s just an empathetic thing and it's wholesome to have seen that in the comic as they being the characters actually talked about things that troubled them, and it didn’t lead to sex confrontation. She may not have known him very long, but she’s a character that gives off a warm and comforting vibe, like a friend you can tell anything too without her judging because she obviously cares about others. 

Later keirr ends up following her and getting to know her more. Then we see a page with them together and keirr is giving her physical therapy? 

(hey keirr how do you know about PT?). They end up jumping over some logs to strengthen her legs or whatever. Kinda pointless in a way if she was born with a weak structure. It’s like saying you can just magically cure a dog with mobility issues with just some PT. Wellll nope, it’s much harder and time consuming. Plus it won't fully heal someone with a physical disability, it may help strengthen her a bit, but she wouldn’t be able to fully walk normally. Compare it to a dog who was born with swimmers syndrome or cerebellar hypoplasia. That’s a lot of PT work and also medication in order for them to walk to a degree. It’s not something that can fully be cured, so Aira’s 180 later on would be really stupid when the author wrote her this way. 

Now the next page (198) is important, keirr states he has to go back home cause he’s been gone for too long. Aira very clearly goes into panic mode and begs keirr to stay with her because she clearly states she doesn't wanna be “Alone” She’s told to basically just shut up and he’ll return soon whenever. Again Aira panics and kisses keirr forcefully. 

Now I find that quite sad and interesting for her. I’m not a therapist or a physician by any means. But this is my own take on this situation. Aira is using a tactic that almost feels like she is forcing her own affection onto keirr, not being in control of her own body due to her panicking. In a way, yes Aira did sexually assault keirr and he had every right to confront her about it because it was wrong of her. He leaves her behind anyway to go back to his family. Aira is then left with what looks like the expression of shock and most likely guilt because she’s being left behind again and most likely processing stuff in her head. I'd like to believe that her mind is very scattered due to her having issues of being left behind. 

We then proceed to see Aira again and most likely took keirr’s words to heart and goes back to the spirit of strength because she feels weak without and can’t survive. She practically feels hopeless without that spirit, keirr stops her and then asks was it because of him? Keep that in mind. Aira is obviously upset in this scene and then tells keirr her back story and the things she did. She basically claims that she went back to the spirit because of Keirr, she was upset. It’s like if someone told you as a person, that you weren’t good enough for them, nor did they want you around them because to them you felt like a burden. I wouldn’t be surprised if Aira was the first dog in the comic to commit suicide because she deems herself as a burden and was never accepted. If the spirits didn’t exist and the comic took more of a dark turn, I think she would have been a character to have that type of mindset. 

Eventually keirr takes Aira under his wing with a better understanding of her to a degree. She proceeds to then help him look for his family as she’s apparently traveled all over the map while being a beast at the time and saw many tribes fall and create new ones. We meet the deer rp tribe and then kique puts them there because he doesn’t know what to do with them at that moment. Aira is then very clearly seen to be hesitant and doesn’t wanna join them because they were just going to ask if they saw family members of keirr’s. But then the 180 happens and they join anyway. Keirr becomes a dick and then judges fucking Aira behind her back  because of the jarl confronting her leg structure. Yeah hey morons, maybe she's struggling because she got a giant ass heavy deer rack strapped to her head and has weak legs, antlers are not light things. Of fucking curse she’d be struggling. 

Honestly that’s when I started hating keirr the most, like why the fuck are you jugding her? She literally told you she was born with a mobility disability and was tossed aside for it. *sighs* She ends up stuck with Keirr as a Herbalist, like kique? The fuck man, how stupid can you be. You made a character with a physical disability who struggles with that and you give her a rank that requires to walk a lot? Like what? She’d be a terrible herbalist because she’d probably take much longer to even get to a location and back to the tribe. She has to carry her weight around. How frustrating, it’s like he literally forgets his own character traits they have. Like if you didn’t wanna deal with a character with a disability then why give her one if you're gonna 180 it.

Page 481. The page that did it all for me and hated this dude's guts. Ok so even if Aira did end up stuck in a tribe she didn’t wanna be, plus she looks absolutely miserable in the panel. She literally got excited when he returned with bootleg kargo after their little flirting session or whatever that was. 

    (look at the sweet baby… I love her)

Like damn keirr, you should be fucking honored that someone likes you for you and your company, plus she was even worried about you. He could have easily just told her he was being sent to scout, like keirr did you not forget that you joined the tribe when you didn’t have too? Like at all. Aira stated to you that she didn’t wanna be there and wanted to go back to looking for your family. But whatever, he gives her the cold shoulder and tells her to suck it up and build connections with a tribe of strangers. God I really want to just rewrite this page at times. Keirr should have welcomed her with open arms (or paws) and told her about his travels and that he didn’t find what he was looking for unfortunately. Like why did you diss the only character who showed remorse and care for you. She obviously likes having you around and because you took her under your wing, you have no right to be a moody dick to her. This is when I see abandonment issues come into play. As someone who has abandonment issues myself, Aira is so frikin relatable. It hurts a lot when you think about it and you're stuck in your head wondering what you did or if you're doing something wrong to have someone push you away like that. It’s the worst feeling ever and poor Aira here basically got rejected from someone she clearly cares about. 

    (She looks so lost and heartbroken in this page)  But like keirr, dude how the fuck did you forget that she told you earlier on before you joined the stupid tribe. That she literally went back to the spirit because of YOU. That’s basically her struggle, Rejection and being alone. I’m disappointed that some of the people were siding with keirr on this page. In reality if a friend asked about your mental health and you told them to fuck off in, just because your moody. Then be damned if they leave your ass. That's such a shitty thing to do to a person. Aira is no exception and didn’t deserve any of that. And sadly it only gets worse for her as even when he did do that, she still looked out for him and had to save his ass from a ghoul. 

(She cares about him still)

      (Fuck you keirr, you should have thanked her)

I’d also like to point something out. But in a certain page, Aira claims she lived with the meteor tribe. I’m unsure if she was referring to a beast or when she was a normal dog before cursing herself? 

If that’s true then could Aira quite possibly be a victim to rape as well? I didn’t think much of it at first because the wording confused me for a while. But going back it made me think. If she was used by MT before arenak rules then she’s very much understanding when it comes to her trauma and issues she has. In conclusion Aira seems like a complex character with her own trauma and if it was written better, it would have been interesting to see her overcome her said trauma. She’s a literal victim, a lot more than what kique claims rogio and his “mental chains” bullshit. Aira didn’t have a choice in her life,she didn’t ask to be born the way she was or have to deal with not feeling wanted by others. I feel if kique actually knew how people worked when it came to trauma and one’s mental health and emotions. Aira and keirr could have been a great duo for each other and helped support each other as friends and grew a good connection based on needing each other in a certain time because they were struggling. Sexual intercourse during trauma isn’t something that’ll help someone. It's only a distraction really at the moment. But again it shouldn't be a way out when you're in your feelings and all that. It’s quite unhealthy. I’ll say it again, Aira deserves better and needs out of this terrible comic.