#though on the other hand i also left out some other things that make the character look worse so I think it's all fair game

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

who is marty mcfly? #2, pages 7-8

original pages + pages w/ no effects + a bunch of bonus stuff including yap session under the cut:

so i read this comic ahead of all the other ones bc i heard it was the best one, and as i was reading it i was like hm yknow this would be fun to redraw. like i'm not going to do it, obviously, because that would be a lot of work and i haven't even read all the other ones. but it would be fun! not going to do it though

so erm..... was that a lie or what. i'll be so fr what tipped me over the edge was the "little flaw" bit of dialogue bc i came up with the framing of him being really small in a panel and it was like shittt i'm cooking i gotta draw this. also the double meaning of "little flaw" (marty's existence in the timeline but also just marty himself) just kind of amused me haha

my process for this was to copy down the dialogue and then NOT LOOK AT THE PAGE ANYMORE. so aside from the dialogue and the general actions that the characters were doing, everything on the page was from my own ideas! if you compare the two i might've deviated slightly from the original. just a little. nothing too crazy of course of course. not like i changed like. everything

i am addicted to inserting more panels for every single expression. if you look at the sketch version of page two there was even going to be an extra panel at the end just for an additional expression and no dialogue but it made the page crowded as i was drawing it so i took it out RIP. in the end i drew 25 panels compared to the original's......... 11. oops

re: dialogue inflection i've noticed that comics tend to emphasize at least one phrase per speech bubble. if you read it with said emphasis usually it's alright but sometimes it flows kind of weird? ("wash your hands" is the biggest one here imo) which is why i changed the inflections i thought it flowed better. also i added a couple of minor things (most notably two waitaminutes i think gbgkbjgjk) to make it sound more natural but overall i stuck to what they were originally saying

ok so the "not look at the page anymore" part of the process is entirely false i did look at it again to shamelessly trace that car. so if you were wondering how i managed to draw such a nice car it's because i didn't LMAO. i think you can tell which cars were traced and which ones i actually naturally drew bc some (re: one that i just copy pasted bc i was lazy.) actually look car-proportioned and some (literally everything else sorry marty's truck) do not. also this is why in the 3rd yugo panel there is no lining in the back of the car. there was no back for me to trace and i was tired.

here's the color test (+ learning how to draw professor irving) i did! unfortunately did not have the oversight to color test the background colors too. i was in the art trenches with those. i hated drawing those backgrounds so much you can tell all of them are half-assed GBKGGJ

speaking of colors i think that the first one's colors are better but i was so done with the whole comic making process (aka. the backgrounds) by the second page that i 1. took like two months off of drawing it and 2. just threw shit at the digital page to get it over with LMAO. like sure ig we doin dark red now

also don't look at the backgrounds too hard. the garage/storage unit thing (changed from a truck trailer bc 1. not sure how you'd install a sink in there? the sink in the storage unit was already stretching it. how did you get plumbing in there man that thing's a rental. and 2. no way in hell i was drawing ANOTHER VEHICLE) is very spacially inconsistent and while this annoys me idrc i'm just here to draw characters in situations.

in the original he's wearing his puffy vest over a white shirt and another red shirt (so his normal outfit but To The Left) but i didn't want to draw that so i gave him a different fit. it's based on apparently this photo from the previous issue? i remember seeing it prior to drawing these but i could've sworn his inner shirt was yellow in the picture and also it looked different. guess it was white the entire time? or maybe i have the issue wrong and this is a completely different picture of marty wearing the red sweater + collared shirt combo. oh well

i keep reading "i know who you are" as "i know what you are" and it never fails to be funny to me. leave him alone dawg

tried to make irving a little more menacing in these considering he's a stranger that just happens to know about the time travel stuff and also who marty is and how to contact him? i actually don't really remember how he got this information but i'm sure it was sketchy as hell. also marty just kind of. agrees to go with him? with no further question. by himself. at night. luckily for him this was not irving's current intention but i've learned that marty is very easy to kidnap. he followed directions to the second location so easily. marty have you not heard about stranger danger?? stay safe out there. your list of traumas is already so long you don't need to encourage another one

my favorite bit of framing is the mirror shot. do you guys think the mirror shot is cool i think it's cool. irving my man back up let him wash his hands and contemplate his existence with his personal space intact thanks. my second favorite is irving throwing the napkin bc i think it's funny

last bonus before the conclusion of this post: a doodle i did as i was making these based on my impression of how the comic was going

[qilinxingg]

𝐀𝐍𝐗𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘

pairing : high honor!arthur morgan x fem!reader

summary : you decide to ask Arthur why he doesn't want anything more than light kisses and innocent touches.

warnings : NSFW, +18 MDNI, f!receiving, nipple sucking, fingering, both reader and Arthur desperate and horny

word count : 2,5k

author's notes : first time writing for Arthur, my beloved, so it may be a little ooc. sorry for any writing error in advance (actually i don't write smut a long time ago 😭) and hope you like :)

I lost the person who made the gif...

It was supposed to be a simple outing. You were tired of being stuck at the camp in Horseshoe Overlook, and Arthur, being the good fellow that he is — or perhaps a little tired of hearing you complain —decided to take you out for a ride. You wasted no time and quickly mounted your horse, eager to finally have some time alone, but mainly to be with the outlaw.

Your relationship with Arthur was unique. Both of you had acknowledged your feelings some time ago, yet it seemed as though your relationship had taken a step backward: he appeared to be somehow afraid to touch you, always avoiding any contact beyond what was appropriate.

You were tired of it. You wanted more than those tender touches that caused butterflies in your stomach. You wanted to feel all those sensations you heard other women talk about with him. And you were tired of using your imagination. After all, you were sweet on each other, right?

So you put your plan into action. After tying up the horses, you sat on a rock while watching him fish, and after some casual talk, you decided to confront him.

Just the question made him look closely at you, with a raised eyebrow and a confused expression. He quickly replied, and you tried not to blush. “Of course, darlin'. What's the question for?”

“Nothin'. Jus wonderin'…”

“That's a dangerous game.” Arthur joked, but realizing you hadn't said anything, he abandoned his fishing rod and approached you. He gently held your chin and lifted your face. Just this simple touch sent shivers down your spine, and you clenched your hands on your skirt. “What's making you so sad, huh?”

You swallowed hard as you stared into his beautiful blue-green eyes. You couldn't lose your nerve!

“It's your fault.”

Surprised, he slowly removed his hand from your chin and placed it on top of yours as he slowly knelt down. Arthur stared at you with lost and regretful eyes, as if he felt guilty for causing you great distress, and you did everything you could not to give up on it all and say it was no big deal.

“I…” For the first time, he seemed to be at a loss for words. “Did I do something I shouldn't have, sweetheart?”

“No, it's not that. It's more something ya didn't do…”

With this ambiguous response, Arthur became even more confused and lost. Something he hadn't done? He cleared his throat and caressed your delicate fingers, trying to get you to explain further.

“Ma sweet girl, I'm really confused. But I'm sorry if I did something to hurt you, that was never my intention.”

With that, he took your hands and brought them to his mouth, kissing them tenderly as if they would break. Your cheeks grew hot, and your entire body seemed to boil. That was the last straw. You couldn't take it anymore.

So you stood up suddenly, once again catching poor Arthur off guard. With each passing second, he became more confused.

You stared at him with a flushed face and took a deep breath.

“Arthur, you don't like my body, is that it?”

Again, the confusion never left his face. However, before he could say anything, you continued.

“Since we said we liked each other, you haven’t tried to touch me even once. Whenever we’re about to get to the point where things get more daring, either something happens or you push me away.” You felt like you couldn’t breathe. “I like your gentle touches and kisses, but I also want more. I don’t want you to hold back with me, Arthur.”

You fell silent and breathed quickly, trying to control the nervousness spreading through your body. You turned away, trying to control your tears.

What a fool. He'll think you're desperate.

The sound of Arthur getting up reached your ears, and before you could pull away, he pulled you against his strong chest and wrapped his arms around your body.

"Thank you for telling me how you feel. Really. And I…I really didn't want to make ya feel that way. I didn't want to scare ya or anything, so I thought it was better not to rush into things and ruin everything like the stupid bastard that I was. I should've noticed. Sorry, darlin'."

“Oh, Arthur. It's okay. I could have tell ya everything earlier.” You leaned against him and caressed his cheek, feeling his stubble. You stood on your tiptoes and kissed him, watching his cheeks turn pink. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Always, sweetheart.” He smiled and kissed your forehead, running his fingers through your hair. “Actually, I didn't want to scare you.”

You smiled and ran your hands over his broad back. “I would never leave you, Arthur. Never. But why would you think that would happen?”

Once again, his cheeks turned pink, and he tried to cover them with his hat. You laughed and moved your hands up to his shoulders. “I didn't know big bad outlaw Arthur Morgan could be so shy.”

“Darlin', I…”

“What? What can be so bad that ya wanna hide from me?"

It was after that question that it all started. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, you were straddling a rock with Arthur's mouth on your nipples. One of his arms wrapped tightly around your body, preventing you from moving, and the other gently squeezed your other breast.

Throughout all this, he hadn't touched the center of your legs even once. However, that didn't stop the wetness from settling there and increasing with every moment you felt his wet tongue touch your nipple.

Your clitoris throbbed against your drawers, and you, trying to find some relief, began to rub yourself against Arthur's clothed leg. He squeezed your waist tighter.

"Ya don't move, until I say so, alright darlin'?" His husky voice whispered in your ear, making you moan eagerly. God, how much you needed him.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, trying to feel his body against yours. Getting no response from you, his mouth enveloped your other nipple and bit it lightly, making you moan again.

“D'ya hear me? I wanna hear your sweet voice, princess.”

You took a deep breath.

“Yes, Arthur. I won't move…”

He kissed your cheek affectionately, making you melt. What did you do to deserve a man like this to call your own?

“That's my girl. My sweet girl.”

The compliments warmed the pit of your stomach, and you nestled into the crook of his neck. It felt so good to receive compliments from him.

His calloused hand left your chest and snaked down to your hip, sending shivers of anticipation through your entire body.

Finally.

Your skirts were lifted and Arthur came face to face with the products of arousal that your pussy had been releasing throughout the lengthy teasing. You bit your lip, embarrassed.

"Look at'chu, what a mess. I haven't even touched you properly yet and ya already all wet. Ma darlin', ya are really desperate, aren't ya?”

You moaned in embarrassment and tried to close your thighs, but Arthur's strong grip prevented them from moving.

"Where do ya think ya are goin'? Let me see that pretty pussy of ya, sweetheart. Ya'll show me, ain't ya?"

You nodded without thinking twice, eager to feel his fingers finally touch you there. Arthur smiled and removed your drawers, finally revealing your pussy hidden between your curls.

You nodded without thinking twice, eager to feel his fingers finally touch you there. Arthur smiled and removed your drawers, finally revealing your pussy hidden between your pubic curls.

You sighed with relief and, fighting your shyness, opened your legs wider, revealing yourself to him. Hearing no response or anything of the sort, you slowly lifted your heavy head.

“Arthur?” You called out in a breathless voice.

However, your voice did not reach the outlaw's ears, who was completely focused on the liquid slowly leaking from your pussy. His mouth went dry and the air seemed to leave his lungs.

A sudden thirst settled in his throat. He looked like a drunk staring at his favorite drink before drinking it. Like a predator staring at its prey before attacking.

“Arthur?” This time, your voice reached him and his blue-green eyes stared at you. He swallowed hard and squeezed your thighs.

“Shit, darlin’. Ya don’t know how much time I was waitin’ for this.” And slowly, his mouth moved closer until you felt his breath against your throbbing clit.

And suddenly, his wet tongue ran all over your pussy, making you scream and shake your whole body. Your screams were music to his ears.

“Arthur…what are you doing!?”

Instead of answering, the outlaw began to suck all over your pussy, alternating between your clit and your little hole. Your whole body arched, and you began to press your thighs against his head.

Sweat accumulated on your forehead, and it became increasingly difficult to control your panting breath. All you could do was moan loudly and grab the man's brown hair so he wouldn't leave.

The only thought in your little head was how his tongue wrapped around your clitoris and licked your inner walls.

At no moment did Arthur cease the abuse of your sensitive pussy. He sucked desperately, as if he wanted to extract even more of the sweet nectar that ran down your thighs.

With each lick, Arthur felt more and more intoxicated and addicted. It tasted like a cold whiskey after a long and exhausting day. God, how long had he been missing out on this?

“God damn, sweetheart, ya taste like heaven.”

His blue eyes, filled with lust, stared at your expression lost in pleasure. You couldn't be more beautiful: messy hair and a few stray strands stuck to your face; rosy cheeks; mouth open in a perfect “o” and teary eyes, which seemed to beg for more of his gentle and precise touch.

Looking like a fucking masterpiece.

Suddenly, he pulled away, causing you to whimper and grumble at the loss of his tongue.

“Why did you stop?”

Arthur let out a hoarse laugh and brought his calloused fingers close to your moist heat. The movement made your clitoris contract with excitement and caused waves of heat to run through your entire body.

“What a desperate darlin' I have. Can't wait a second.” He smiled and slipped a finger inside you, feeling the wet walls squeeze him. He let out a moan, unable to stop thinking about what it would feel like to feel this tightness around his cock. Just that thought was enough to make his member throb against his pants.

He could wait. Your pleasure was more important right now.

“Oh my God, Arthur!” You moaned loudly and squeezed his hair tighter in your sweaty hand. God, a single finger of his seemed to fill you as much as two of yours. You couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to feel his cock there. Would you feel full?

You whimpered, and Arthur added another finger, opening you up and stretching you even more. His other hand moved over your sensitive clitoris, making you writhe with pleasure.

"Look at'chu, drippin' all over ma fingers. Is that what'cha wanted, princess?"

You moaned once more and began to move against the thrusts created by his fingers inside you. With each movement, you could hear the obscene sounds of your soaked pussy. “Yes, Arthur…it feels so good. Don't stop, please.”

“Yeah, that's ma good girl. So sweet n perfect for me. How could a bastard like me deserve someone like ya?”

“You're…You're worth of it, Arthur. God, I love ya so much.” Tears formed in the corners of your eyes from the stimulation you were receiving. God, you couldn't take it much longer.

Arthur grunted and kissed your red cheek gently, then your half-open lips. Your hands moved to his cheeks, feeling the wet stubble of his beard against your warm hands. The kiss was a mess of tongues and saliva, but neither of you cared. You could taste your sweetness in his mouth.

“I love ya too, ma darlin',” he said with his mouth close to yours, feeling your rapid breathing. “Could ya take another one for me?”

You nodded slowly and Arthur smiled slyly.

“Such a good girl.” And so the third finger went inside you, widening the small cavity even more. God, you already felt so full. You moaned against him and your mouths joined once more.

His fingers didn't stop even once, abusing your little pussy once again. Every time they left your warmth, you could hear the wet noises it made.

When you started to feel short of breath, you pulled away and clung to him like a fragile branch as his fingers quickly moved in and out.

“Arthur.” You called him slowly. “I'm not gonna last any longer…”

“Come for me, sweetheart. I got ya.” He pressed your body against his and started kissing your neck, making you moan. "I can't wait until ya take ma cock. Shit, ya are goin' to be so perfect. All open n full of me. What a damn vision."

You moaned at the sight and squeezed the fabric of his shirt until your fingers were almost white.

"This pretty n needy pussy will take me so good. So perfect that maybe ya won't be able to walk straight after that. Is that what ya want, isn't it darlin'?

“Yes! Yes! I want it so badly, Arthur.” You practically screamed as your walls squeezed his fingers. Your mind went blank, and you came against his fingers. You whimpered, and your tired body literally melted against his, recovering from your orgasm.

Slowly he withdrew his fingers and sighed as he lost the tightness between them. Arthur laughed when he saw that his whole hand was wet and brought it to his mouth, tasting your divine flavor once again. “Look at this, all wet and so sweet.”

“Stop it…” You blushed and nestled into his neck, embarrassed. With his other hand, Arthur gently caressed your head.

“You did so good, princess.” He kissed your cheek, making you laugh. Soon after, he joined his mounth on yours.

“Thank you.” You said as you pressed your forehead against his.

"Anythin' f'ya. But sweetheart, next time I'll show you what really means lose your mind. Jus like ya want it."

The sweet promise sent pleasant shivers throughout your body.

[goobstars]

um hi!!!!!!! i read your rules and painter is there :'D theres like...no painter stuff on this app,, would you mind feeding me and the other two painter fans out here?? i dont have many ideas so if thats a deal breaker thats totally fine, i just want to read SOME fluff of him :']

𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

summary : what it's like to date painter.

tags : romance, established relationship, death, fluff, and a little bit of angst.

note : i hope it's okay that i made dating headcanons, i had like no other ideas. i did two parts, one with his normal self, and the other is if he had a body because i like that idea. enjoy !

·˚ ༘ normal

— he would become so overprotective of you.

— good people doors won't open at all, even if you go in front of them. turrets immediately turn off as soon as you enter a room. gauntlets don't happen at all. etc.

— despite the fact he can't kiss you back, he loves it when you kiss him.

— the first time you did, his eyes turned into spirals while he just sat there trying to comprehend what happened.

— you can't do it too often, though. he starts to heat up and it could cause him to crash.

— he draws photos of you when he starts to miss you.

— will he ever show them to you? not a chance, but he looks back at the drawings he makes when you're not around.

— you'd have to comfort him a lot, by the way.

— he's been told many times that he's not bad for surviving, but words don't make the remorse go away. he still feels guilty for all the people he's either helped kill, or actually killed. those turrets don't show any mercy, and by the time they get turned off, the person is already dead.

— you'd probably have to hug him after someone has died, and even though he can't hug you back, he still appreciates your gesture.

— if you like to paint, too, you both would paint together.

— he for sure gossips, by the way.

— you're his gossip buddy.

"you'll never believe what sebastian told me!" the words were exclaimed while you peered up at painter in confusion, and he simply grinned at you. "apparently, while he was out scavenging, he overheard an expendable mumbling about how they're scared of the dark...should i send angler their way?" "do it."

— while painter doesn't enjoy harming the expendables, he does love messing with them. it gives him a sense of joy in the facility.

— this is random, but i can imagine sebastian teasing him whenever you leave his shop.

"painter, guess who just left my shop?" "sebastian, shut up." painter's words were mumbled as he peered over at the radio placed beside him, and sebastian's chuckle crackled through it. "what? why don't you just take a guess?" the computer remained quiet, and after a moment, he let out a sigh. "[name]..." "don't you mean 'the love of your life'?" "i'm going to send the pandemonium to you if you don't stop."

— sebastian always teases you both, by the way.

— when you're in his shop, he asks you if you're excited to see painter, and he just gives you such an idiotic smirk.

— has definitely made a comment about how weird you are for being into a computer, and has threatened you to not hurt painter.

·˚ ༘ with a body

— constantly has to be touching you, but won't admit it.

— usually, he'll just hold your hand or intertwine your pinky with his, but he will randomly hug you.

— if you tease him, though, he's denying everything.

— since he can walk around the blacksite, he'd probably find random things to give to you.

— medkits, flashlights, etc.

— he'd also find those little notepads left by scientists, and he'd draw you things on the blank pages before ripping them out so you can take them with you.

— he also leaves little notes.

— they'd just say stuff like 'stay safe' or 'watch out for flickering lights.'

— though, if you flip it over, he always writes 'i love you' on them.

— also, if you wanted to learn how to draw, he'd be happy to teach you!

— he'd find a way to set up a notebook so that it was slanted, and he'd stand behind you with one hand on your hip while the other was helping guide your hand.

— his finger would be tracing shapes against your hip, by the way.

— most likely has a turret in one of his arms, and he will shoot anyone who messes with you.

— if any other expendables attempted to harm you in some way, say for your research or items, they're going to be eating bullets.

[mabyfavywavy]

AS ABOVE, SO BELOW (CH. 4)

synopsis: you're visited by some friends, both new and old.

pairing: saja boys x shaman/witch!gn!reader

warnings: none

>m.list here

>ch. 3 here

PRESENT DAY

it turned out the answer to your question was a lot.

almost overnight, your life had changed significantly. for one, you could now afford an actual apartment unit instead of the basement that you had lived in. there was so much more space, and the addition of not having any more bug problems was a positive.

the girls had offered for you to move into their penthouse apartment, but you had refused. you couldn’t accept something like that from them. it would have been too much.

you could have gotten a whole floor to yourself, though.

but it would have been weird living in the same apartment as your bosses.

managing huntrix was certainly the most tedious job you’ve had. you couldn’t imagine how hard bobby had it when he was the only one managing them before you. you were constantly in and out, creating schedules, booking meetings, managing everything to go smoothly during concerts and interviews and fan meets and-

that’s not even counting your double life. in the day you were huntrix’s manager, all planners and excel sheets and clipboards. at night you patrolled around the city, reporting tears in the honmoon and slaying stray demons that preyed on any unsuspecting people.

you had significantly less free time but honestly, you liked your job. it was fun and exciting to hang out with the girls. you got to visit new places when they went on tour, making memories and experiencing things you thought you would have never experienced.

huntrix’s fame grew exponentially larger in your four years of working with them, the number of fans multiplying every day.

on one hand, the honmoon was stronger than it ever had been before. on the other hand, you barely had any time to yourself left. you’ve practically become a workaholic.

well, it was strong until recently.

rumi had pushed the release date on huntrix’s new single right as the hiatus started. you still mourned the two week vacation you had planned then.

then right before the golden live show, rumi’s voice had given out.

then, a new boy band had come from seemingly nowhere with their coordinated pastel color palettes and exciting catchy tunes about sparkling beverages.

then, it turned out that the boy band was actually a group of demons disguised as an idol group to steal huntrix’s fans and have been actively weakening the honmoon.

since then, all of you have been on damage control. this meant working overtime and coming home late in the dead of night.

much like most nights, tonight you trudged home with your head pounding. you were sure that it was because of being tossed around by demons and totally not because of the stress.

this was a common occurrence, an almost nightly routine.

you exited the convenience store, the glass door closing with a chime. one of your hands held a plastic bag with instant ramen packs and the other held your phone up to your ear.

”yeah, yeah, bobby. i heard.” you confirmed, now holding your phone between your ear and shoulders. you scanned the receipt, confirming that you were charged correctly for your products.

”saja boys? what kind of name is that?” you scrunched your nose before painfully realizing that you had been bruised from the fight that you had earlier at one of the honmoon tears.

a cold breeze tickled your neck. you would have ignored it if you didn’t also feel like you were being stalked. was it another demon?

you snapped your head behind you, your hand snaking behind underneath your jacket to fish out one of your blades. they were attached to your back by a brown leather harness that was covered underneath your clothes. the blades were covered in a sheath so you didn’t have to worry about cutting your back on them when sitting. it didn’t matter anyway. even unsheathed, it was extremely unlikely that it could cut through human flesh.

maybe with enough force it could.

your eyes traveled around, searching every corner and every street lamp. you checked if you could see any tears in the honmoon nearby.

and then you saw him. a tall masculine shadow on the roof.

“hey, uh… are you still there?” bobby’s voice rang from your phone.

“i’ll call you back.” you responded, your eyes narrowing at the figure above. you didn’t follow it. you didn’t take out your knives. you simply observed, waiting for it to make a move like you always did with other demons.

and just as fast as it had come, it disappeared into a puff of smoke.

you took a different route home after, making sure that you were not followed. you had just moved in, you weren't trying to get any unwanted visitors already.

you passed the unpacked still-taped boxes and the unwrapped furniture, stumbling towards your room. you didn’t even lay on the futon and laid on the floor, kicking the plastic convenience store bag that contained your painkillers across the room.

you had moved into your new apartment only a few days ago, and hadn’t had the chance to unpack at all. you hadn’t even put up protection charms or cleansed anything new of yours. all you wanted to do when you got home was sleep.

when you slept, you dreamt.

usually they were nonsensical and you barely remembered any of them when you woke up.

some showed your family, a taunting reminder of what you had before.

on rare occasions, you didn't dream. you had experiences. ever since you were a child, you’ve had these reoccurring experiences.

you would be in a forest, much like the ones you used to roam as a child. you were always sitting on a log, tending to the campfire in front of you. the fire was lively, cracking and snapping at you every once in a while. flecks of blazing ash would levitate upwards towards the star-filled sky.

on the other side was a silhouette, their appearance hidden by the trees. they sat across from you, their posture contrasting your normal hunched over position.

you realized quickly after the first two dreams that you must tend to the fire. as lively as it was, the fire would shrink to a flame, which would die into embers. you would wake up soon after that.

if you kept the fire burning for long enough, you were able to hear a voice. it was usually barely above a whisper, and sounded strangely familiar. they would tell you things that your family had never told you, things about this world and realms beyond earth. they told you the truth to many secrets that people kept from you.

you had labeled them as a spirit guide of some sort. you had felt less confined with them, and it didn’t matter what you said in your dream, right? no one could hear what you would talk about.

you kept your guide secret from your family. to this day, they still didn’t know about them.

you hated listening to them now. hated how everything you did was met with condescension and correction.

you poked the fire with a stick you found on the ground, the brightness and heat of the inferno making your head ache.

”people are going missing again.” the voice softly spoke. you glared, not just because of the fire, but because of how the shadow was very blatantly insulting you. you drew in an inhale, the fire totally becoming much more interesting and totally not because you didn’t really want to listen to the next condescending thing that the voice had to say.

“i don’t… understand. the honmoon was stronger than ever just a few days ago.” you tossed the stick into the fire, watching as it was slowly engulfed in the greedy flames. you rubbed your temples in a smooth circular motion to try and relax your eyebrow muscles. “it just feels like things have been getting worse.”

”perhaps it's the stress between you all. didn’t one of the huntress’s voices give out before the live performance? and not to mention how tired and ragged you’ve seemed to be recently. you’ve been neglecting sleep. they’ve been working you to the bone.” the voice seemed to taunt.

it was true. with all the promotions and the interviews and the preparations for the live performance, you and bobby had work up to your necks.

and it had been canceled.

and who had to deal with the aftermath?

you couldn’t help but feel a little frustration. when you had met the girls, you believed that you had found others like you. you thought that the huntresses' goal would bring balance to both the human world and the spirit world. when you had begun to fight with them, you realized how they really felt about demons.

their viewpoint on them drastically contrasted yours.

then, you met celine and everything started to make a bit more sense.

it wasn’t that you hated her or anything. you also believed that she was a victim of centuries and centuries of tradition.

they were all only taught to hate demons for what they were because it had kept the hunters in the past safe. it had kept countless humans safe.

but things changed. huntrix, up until recently, was the strongest generation of hunters the world had ever seen. they had the ability now to ask questions about demons. they didn’t think once to look more into demons and where they really came from?

you weren’t going to judge. you were once like that too.

so you let them be. sure, you still voiced some of your concerns, but there really wasn’t any moment to. you were often sent alone to examine the new tears in the honmoon and report back to the girls. there wasn’t any need to speak about it. you haven’t even spoken to celine after your first meeting with each other.

even if your views clashed with huntrix’s sometimes, you all had the same goal: to protect humans.

and your goal to find out the source of all demons was no luck.

admittedly at first, you had been using the girls to try and further your real goal, but they’ve begun to grow on you. they were sweet, and they were a friend group where you could talk about your spiritual journey freely with.

”i don’t need to hear this from you.” you turned away from the figure, scowling. “they care about me. i’d fight for days on end if it meant that they’d be comfortable. they’re my friends.” you didn’t want to admit you were tired. there was so much to be done, and you couldn’t rest until things calmed down at least a little bit.

”i only tell you what you need to know.” the figure mused as you walked away from them and the campfire. you stopped in your tracks, the leaves crunching underneath your weight. you refused to turn around, refused to look them in the eye.

even after everything that you have done, all the things they’ve told you, it was ultimately you that had decided what to do with the information they had given you.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

you woke up not long after the next morning with your body screaming in pain. it didn’t help that you slept on the floor and not your futon either. you rolled your body to stare at the ceiling of your room, your eyes threatening to close once more.

showering was on the agenda as soon as you were able to get up, of course. you had neglected to even undress yourself from your usual work clothes. you matched with bobby (his idea), wearing the same grey blazer that he donned. your innerwear and lower wear fluctuated depending on how you felt that day.

you had woken up early surprisingly, with enough time to shower, brush your teeth and look put together for the day. you made sure to cover up your injuries and bruises you sustained last night with makeup and bandages. breakfast was almost always neglected as you usually ate at work.

you set the convenience store bag on your counter before opening one of your kitchen drawers. you scanned the contents before your eyes settled onto a half used blister pack of painkillers. popping one of the tablets open, you placed a pill in your hand. throwing your head back as swallowed it, before chasing it down with a cup of water.

today. today, you were finally going to make time to tidy up your apartment.

…who were you kidding?

all the unfinished ikea furniture pieces littered the floor of your living room. you finally had the space and money for a couch and a bigger tv, but what was the point of getting them if you didn’t have time to lounge around and actually watch it?

right now, it just looked like an eyesore.

you glanced at the boxes too. there wasn’t much to pack anyway from your old home, but unpacking and planning where everything went was just so much time that you didn't have right now.

you took your free time before the honmoon was weakened for granted. you took it for granted and now you were begging and sobbing while grabbing it by the ends of its dress as you shouted for it to come back.

you loved your job. you loved your job. you loved your job…

you checked your phone, scrolling on social media to start your day. almost immediately, you were bombarded with videos of people doing the ‘soda pop dance challenge.’

the song came out yesterday.

you continued to scroll and scroll, only to continue being harassed by more saja boys and saja boys adjacent content. there were clips of them performing on the street, clips of them chugging hot sauce on a variety show, clips of huntrix crashing the same variety show.

the girls had blown up the group chat, fuming about the saja boys and how “they weren’t even that good looking, just… just super dreamy and super hot and have you seen the guy with abs?”

and that they were demons that needed to be eradicated off the face of the earth.

well, they didn’t exactly word it like that, but they might as well have.

you checked the time and realized that you might want to start heading out. huntrix had an interview scheduled today at the tv studio for golden. you wondered how that interview would go considering they had ditched their live performance a few days ago.

well, the girls didn’t have PR managers for nothing. you were sure everything would be figured out since yesterday.

this interview was a good chance to raise their popularity, though. maybe people will start talking about huntrix and the interview instead of focusing solely on the saja boys.

maybe.

as long as this would cut your hours fighting demons, you were happy enough.

>ch. 5

a/n: guys I promise the guide is a relevant character😭 also I uploaded this on TUESDAY DON’T PLAY WITH ME ITS PAST MIDNIGHT THEREFORE ITS TUESDAY GRRR

i’m a little over halfway done with writing this story, which is good since i’m going to get a lot busier. i’m studying abroad in Korea for a year, and i’m leaving next week so i’m trying to get things done before then.

next chapter should be out on friday!

also the more I write reader, the more I just visualize nanami kento idk idk idk

ty for the support! if you want to send stuff or ask me stuff about this fic (spoiler free, of course), my inbox is always open!

taglist: @cptg00s3 @artendityshroomswilloft @kashasenpai @frogeddeyes @adorabluesposts @inojinieeee @piercing-gaze @hannahdinse8 @domesticklife @feralriverwater @saltysbiscuits @shaddow-darkcloud @Ivvcian @koshiunwilling @snowy-violet @kpopgirliez @bell7duck @snowballingdowntheroad @nightlark100 @lucimucy @d3sperate-enuf @ultimatetrashfire @trulyena @qxuanii @dvmn1emyyy

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[vintageandroid]

St. Paul Ritual (from the cheaper seats)

No idea if anyone wants to read a write-up from someone further back but I also just got home, I'm hyped, and I wanna write stuff down while I remember. Plus I figured, like, most of the write-ups are from people in the pit or close-up and that's fine but folks might wanna know if it's still a good performance from further back. Spoiler: yep.

I was in section 219 which was the highest level, off to one side. (I was on Phantom's side, for the record. Which was on purpose.) They were not the cheapest seats in the house but they were pretty cheap. I'll talk more behind the cut. These are super scattered thoughts and some are about the show itself and some are my personal experience.

First, my vantage point was actually pretty good! I was at the front of my section so I didn't have anyone in front of me, and I could see down onto the stage; it wasn't super close but I could see a lot and I could see Papa pretty damn well actually.

That said, it wasn't perfect. I could not see the Grucifix light display because I was basically on the same level as it was, and I couldn't see Flying Papa except for like the hem of his outfit because he was blocked by the speaker equipment or whatever. Which isn't ideal, but you know, whatever.

I cried during Peacefield. Just fucking GONE. Also MOAC. Also when he sang "the dark fascist regime will be gone."

We got Call Me Little Sunshine, Pinnacle to the Pit, and Ritual for the rotating slots.

Papa was very Creaturey today, lots of creeping and tiptoeing around.

That said, the man also saunters very well. We have not, as a fandom, paid enough attention to his sauntering. There was a point early in Umbra where he did this sexy saunter and shoulder tilt thing that knocked my ass out.

Phantom! As I've been hearing, he did the crowd work like a champ, and also he Was Very Much A Bug. Writhing around on his back for Year Zero, passing his guitar between his own knees, all that good shit.

Also early on I heard a dude behind me shout "I LOVE YOU, PHANTOM. THAT'S MY BOYYYYY" and that is The Eternal Mood.

That said, I was too far back for some shit. I did not see if V showed bush or tummy, sorry. (Can confirm he did not do a striptease like we were hoping, I would have seen that.) I did not notice if he fingered the mic during Cirice but that's partly because someone was going past me to the bathroom during Cirice. :(

Speaking of Cirice, I noticed my water bottle was missing just as he sang "Can't you see that you're lost?" and that was much funnier to me than it needed to be. (Don't worry, I found it again. It cost like $6.50 to buy a fucking water at the venue. I couldn't go losing it.)

Oh speaking of the lady who went past me--I was actually in between two empty seats (going alone has its perks) but on my left was a lady who was having a GREAT time, dancing and singing along, waving her hands. On the right of me was a dude in a colorful button-down who also came alone, and sat there the whole time like he was being forced there at gunpoint, only he was really bored about it. This also happened to me at a Weird Al concert once. Guys on my right are just never happy to be there.

Okay anyway you don't care about that. Papa! Let's talk about Papa some more.

I did struggle to hear things he shouted mid-song but I could hear him singing and talking just fine.

He made fun of our Minnesotan accents and did the obligatory "MinneSOOOta" thing everyone does as if he isn't fucking Swedish. He also let out a few "Ja!"s.

He gave us a hard time about how fuzzy the whole Twin Cities/St. Paul/Minneapolis thing is and told us not to make it so confusing. Honestly, that's fair.

He talked about how the band has always had a great time performing in the area though (interestingly did not imply that it was "one of the other guys" as he has done formerly) but also talked about his first performance in the Twin Cities at some "shitty" venue with a "thing" right in the stage (a pole I assume from his gesturing). He asked what it was called, some people told him, he asked if it was still standing, and when told it was not he said "Good riddance."

He also randomly told us a story about a time he was performing in Cardiff, thought it was a great show, but at the end when the crowds left they discovered that without anyone noticing, someone had taken a shit in the middle of the pit, and the floor was covered in "confetti and bills and just one single turd."

Oh also asked us if Mummy Dust had torn us new assholes (I think?) and hoped there was at least a little leakage to keep us "supple". I think that's what he said.

Honestly he seemed really chatty today?

OH I ALMOST FORGOT. He lamented that he didn't have time to go down on everybody but said he'd leave us all with a kiss and of course went into Kiss the Go-Goat.

He blew us a LOT of kisses after. Trying to make sure he didn't miss anyone I guess. ;)

Lots and lots of thrusting during Mummy Dust and like, pivoting his hips so that he could thrust at both sides of the audience, which is very thoughtful of him.

Pretty sure there was also a fair amount of thrusting during Umbra.

Cirrus was so pretty and bendy and bouncy and Nimbus/Haze/Solaris/What the fuck ever was gorgeous. I was on their side so I noticed them a lot.

I couldn't see Storm or Mountain as well just cuz of angles and being easily distracted by Moving Ghouls, but Storm was definitely dancing and bouncing around a lot back there.

The audience lost their fucking minds whenever Aurora cowbelled, as is right and proper.

The outfits are so fucking sparkly and rainbow-y. The ghouls' outfits obviously, but Papa's black outfit with the sparkle details was also really noticeable.

I LOVE that Rain wears the veil. He moves around so much, whether running around or headbanging, and the flow of it is just stunning. Why are you so beautiful, Rain.

Year Zero felt like an actual religious experience. It was incredible.

also holy shit I could feel the fire bursts from way back where I was sitting.

Oh Papa mentioned that it was pretty hot and paused to make sure we were all hydrating. A papa of the people. A papa who cares.

I really really loved in Satanized how it honestly felt like he was genuinely begging the audience for help as he struggled with his Satanization. It was an incredible performance.

Although he did do the thing while he was cowering from the priest's scoldings and then randomly stuck his leggy out real far. I laughed.

Uhhh okay personally I went really early despite the air quality warnings (oh by the way did you know you can't fucking breathe in Minnesota because Canada is on fire?). I did bring a mask but kept forgetting to put it back on (I removed it to eat and also to do pics with people) but I was mostly okay; I did use my inhaler while I was waiting in my seat for the concert to start. But I went early because I wanted to enjoy the Vibes and Vibes were enjoyed.

I traded bracelets and stickers and it was fun. Sadly I think I gave someone a broken bracelet because I found some random beads and the letters IUGD in my bag. I think it was my Guiding Lights bracelet? Sorry to whoever got that one I guess. I also gave a bunch of bracelets after the show to people around me and they were ECSTATIC because they hadn't gotten anything. (I did not give one to Mr. Sour Face but to be fair he was OUT as soon as the encore was done and didn't stay for the bows.)

But also SOMEONE GAVE ME MUMMY DUST AFTER THE SHOW! I was waiting for my Lyft and she was offering them to people. She got some bracelets and my eternal gratitude. HOLY SHIT.

Inflatable Papa is even more majestic in person.

My feet and back hurt.

In conclusion: Yeah, even the cheap seats are worth it. This was my first ritual and I am so ecstatic that I went. People were really nice. I'm pretty shy (despite how much I don't shut up on Tumblr) and I was there by myself but anytime I asked someone for a picture or if they wanted to trade bracelets or if they just wanted one, people were so excited and friendly. And obviously the show ITSELF was just. Transcendent.

Anyway y'all don't wanna see a bunch of pics of me so I won't add those to this, but i WILL show you all the bracelets & stickers I got and, y'know, THE FUCKING MUMMY DUST someone gave me! T_T Also Inflatable Papa.

[respectfulrebel]

This is so bittersweet 🥲 I’m happy they are finally getting the peace and happiness they both deserve but I’m also really gonna miss following their journey 😭 and I know you said there would be one shots and that’s really comforting cause I’m not ready to say goodbye to them yet 🥹🥹🥹Thank you for such a beautiful, wholesome and satisfying ending, didn’t expect anything less from you 🥺🫶🏻

He narrowed his eyes at you, suspicious. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"I'm not smiling like anything."

"You're definitely smiling like something."

🥺🥺🥺🥺 why are they literally the cutest 😭

You just turned back toward the watering can, waving him off like you hadn't just had the sudden urge to cover him in kisses but ignored it because you had still work to do.

Noooo, don’t fight the urge, that boy deserves to be covered by kisses 🥹🥹🥹🥹

But it felt like you were watching him heal a little more each day.

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

"Yeah. Because of this," he said simply, pointing at the flowers in front of you. "Because I'm doing it with you."

Can I cry already? 🥹🥹🥹

And of course, Noah had wanted to be your first.

Awwwwwwwww 😭😭😭

Noah had said he wanted stars.

He said it felt fitting, a kind of tribute to that conversation you'd had about fate and stars and how maybe the universe had written the two of you into each other's lives before you even knew it.

Definitely crying now 😭😭

You laughed and told him he didn't even have room left for another tattoo. And in the blink of an eye, Noah had stood, stripped down to his boxers, and pointed at every inch of free skin he still had, grinning like a kid who knew was right.

🥺🥺🥺🥺 this is too cute, I can’t

Just enough to make them his. Just enough to make them yours.

"Fuck, did I hurt you?" you asked immediately, eyes wide.

Noah burst out laughing. "Got you."

🤭🤭🤭🤭

You gave a quiet laugh, still trying to process it. "Terrifying. Amazing. Kind of like I'm gonna pass out but in a good way."

He grinned. "That's exactly how I felt when I met you."

I can’t with all the cuteness 😭😭😭😭

Still, he'd come home some evenings shaking his head, muttering things like "they've got zero attention span" or "I swear one of them tried to bite me today", but then he'd smile, and there'd be a fondness in his voice he didn't bother to hide. "They're funny, though," he'd say. "And I think... I think they're having fun too."

He’s such a dad already 🤭🤭🤭🤭 👀

"I'd rather do private lessons with you."

I’m sure he would 🤭🤭🤭

So you often packed him something to take to the gym, something he could eat during his break. He'd spent too many years not eating the way someone should, and you hated the thought of that happening again.

Why is every second sentence in this chapter making me saaaaaad 😭😭😭😭😭

Sometimes he'd cross the room without a word, burying his face in your shoulder or against your neck, arms wrapped tight around you.

🥹🥹🥹🥹

His fingertips would trace lazy patterns on your skin while he kissed your shoulder, your jaw, the space behind your ear, and you'd wash his hair while you both chuckled about the fact that he was too tall and you couldn't reach his head, working shampoo into the dark curls while he closed his eyes and rested his forehead to your shoulder, letting himself be taken care of.

It’s the “letting himself be taken care of” for me cause 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

At one point, Amber leaned over the table and grinned at Noah. "And look at you! You're not dying anymore."

Have I said that I love Amber already? 😂

"Well," she said, leaning back, "you do seem suspiciously calm for someone who got stabbed."

Noah shrugged. "I garden now."

Vivienne raised her eyebrows. "Right. Clearly very therapeutic."

😂😂😂😂

You couldn't help it, every time you hold his hand, you thought about how often those knuckles have been bruised, broken and bloodied. And maybe that's why you're always so gentle with them now.

Every time he stepped out of the fitting room, he turned to you first.

"How does it look?"

🥺🥺 I just imagine him standing there like 🧍🏻 and giving a little twirl 🥺

He thought it over carefully before buying anything, but you could see it on his face, that he was proud. Not just of how he looked, but of the fact that he could do this now.

He had a job. He could afford to buy his own clothes. And even if he didn't say it out loud, you could tell it was important to him.

So proud of him 😭😭😭

He gave a small grin. "It's... guy stuff."

😭😭😭 why was my first thought “ENGAGEMENT RING???” 😭

But ten minutes later, you felt a presence behind you. When you turned, Noah holding a small bouquet of fresh flowers wrapped in brown paper, just a handful of soft pink and white blooms, some green still clinging to the stems, like they'd just been picked that morning. He held them out to you, a little awkwardly, like he wasn't sure if this kind of thing was allowed or if he was doing it right.

Cause he couldn’t get her flowers when he came back? 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 brb sobbing

He picked up a pack of avocados, weighing them in his palm, next came some jars of pasta sauces, with sun-dried tomato, roasted garlic, creamy truffle, things he would have scoffed at once, either because he couldn't afford them or because he never thought he'd be the kind of person who could casually walk around a store to buy them. He grabbed two, then hesitated and added a third.

Why are those simple everyday things that are getting to me 😭😭😭 he never had thisssss, he never had the chance to do the boring grocery shopping thing and now he does and he’s enjoying it and it’s making me cryyy 😭😭😭

He looked away, a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I thought you were cute," he admitted. "And I thought you were too sweet for a place like that. You were just... there, helping a total stranger bleeding in a back alley."

"But mostly," he continued, "I thought there's no way someone like you would stick around. And I hated how much I wanted you to."

You took a small breath. "And that night," you said, even softer now, "when I went to bed with Kole... l imagined that his arm around me was yours. Because I couldn't stop thinking about you. Not for a second."

😭😭😭😭😭😭

"I mean, it's just a start," he added quickly, almost shyly. "I don't know if therapy will actually help. But I figured l'd try. You were right."

So proud of hiiiimmmm 😭😭😭

He cupped your cheek with one big, tattooed hand. "Will I be anxious? Absolutely. Will I want to bolt the second they say my name? Probably. But I felt like that the first time I ever stepped into the ring, too. The difference is... this time, I'm doing it to help myself. Not hurt myself. So yeah... I'll get through it."

SOBBING

You had a boyfriend who you loved and who loved you. A best friend who made you laugh until your stomach hurt and who Noah found just as funny as you did. A white cat curled up on the couch a few feet away, tail flicking lazily in his sleep. Two kids who never stopped asking when they'd see you again.

I love a happy ending 😭😭😭😭😭😭

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

Pairing: underground fighter! noah x reader

Series summary: You’re dragged to watch an illegal fight, and after the match, you meet Noah, a fighter who seems to be battling more than just his opponents.

Series mastelist

It took a few weeks, but you and Noah finally got around to fixing the garden.

One morning, after the last of the old lavender had been pulled up and the soil turned fresh again, you both stood over the empty patch for a moment, just looking.

“What do we plant?” he asked, wiping his hands on the thighs of his jeans.

You were about to say lavender again, out of habit, but paused. “Maybe something different this time.”

He glanced at you, curious.

You smiled. “We can pick something together.”

So that’s what you did.

You went to a local nursery one Saturday afternoon, hand in hand, and walked the rows of flowers and herbs and little green starter plants. You picked out bright marigolds, purple salvia, some creeping thyme that would spread out soft and low across the ground. Noah pointed to a pot of blue cornflowers, saying he thought they were pretty, so you bought them too.

Now, the sun was overhead, warm but not too harsh, and the air smelled like earth and dirt, but in a good way. You were both kneeling in the garden, hands covered in soil. Alpine was snoozing under a patch of shade, entirely uninterested in your efforts.

You pressed the last salvia plant into the soil and patted the dirt around it. “Okay. That’s it for this side,” you said, brushing the back of your hand across your forehead. “They’ll need water, but otherwise we’re done.”

Noah nodded, shifting back onto his heels and stretching his arms behind him with a quiet grunt. You looked over and smiled to yourself. Then you paused.

He had a smudge of dirt right across the bridge of his nose. A little streak that made him look absurdly boyish, like a kid who’d spent all afternoon playing outside and forgot to check a mirror.

You bit back a laugh.

He caught it immediately. “What?”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Nothing.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, suspicious. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“I’m not smiling like anything.”

“You’re definitely smiling like something.”

You just turned back toward the watering can, waving him off like you hadn’t just had the sudden urge to cover him in kisses but ignored it because you had still work to do. “Come on, help me water the marigolds or they’re gonna die before they even get a chance.”

But he didn’t move right away. You heard him stand, step closer, and then his shadow fell across you. You looked up.

He leaned down slightly, brow raised. “Seriously. What?”

You reached up casually and swiped your thumb across his nose, right over the dirt. “You had something.”

His mouth tugged into a crooked smile. “You could’ve just said so.”

You wiped your thumb on your jeans. “But this was more fun.”

He gave a soft, amused huff, then straightened again and turned toward the watering can. You watched him for a second: the relaxed line of his shoulders, the quiet concentration on his face as he watered the base of each plant with care.

You didn’t say anything, but you felt it.

How peaceful it was now.

You didn’t want to say he was completely okay, because you knew Noah still had his low moments, his thoughts, his memories, and nightmares. But it felt like you were watching him heal a little more each day. And you loved that.

And sometimes healing looked like this: soil under his fingernails. A soft smile on his lips. Dirt on his nose. A kiss on the cheek because he looked too pretty planting those flowers.

You stood beside him and reached for the hose, adjusting the spray as you both started watering the garden in slow, even motions.

“Looks better already,” he said after a moment, eyes scanning the rows of little green shoots.

“It does,” you agreed.

He looked at you then. His hand brushed yours where it rested on the nozzle, his fingers warm and a little rough from the work.

“I think I found out I like gardening,” he said.

You turned your head, catching the slight smile tugging at his mouth.

“Yeah?” you asked, your voice light, teasing.

“Yeah. Because of this,” he said simply, pointing at the flowers in front of you. “Because I’m doing it with you.”

You gave him a playful elbow, "shut up."

He looked at you sideways, a half-smile on his lips, like he knew exactly the effect he still had on you.

Soon, you’d finally finished the last of your lessons with Nick and had to say bye to the fake skin that never complained when you made a mistake. And now, finally, you were cleared to tattoo real skin. Real people.

It was exciting. And terrifying.

And of course, Noah had wanted to be your first.

So that’s how you ended up in the studio, hands washed, gloves on, machine in your grip, standing beside the tattoo chair with Noah stretched out in it, black shirt pushed up his arm, relaxed like he’d done this a hundred times, which, probably, he had.

Nick was beside you, leaning on the edge of the counter, arms crossed but relaxed. Watching closely as you got ready to start. He was supervising, of course, protocol and all that, but he was also teasing Noah in a way that made your chest warm. You liked that they got along. You liked he had friends now.

Nick spoke as you positioned your stool next to Noah, “So. You still coming with me next week? That comic convention thing?”

Noah looked up at him, “Yeah, of course. I love that kinda stuff. Haven't been there in...a while.”

You looked at the skin you were going to tattoo.

Noah had said he wanted stars.

He’d brought it up one night, the two of you curled together in bed. He said it felt fitting, a kind of tribute to that conversation you’d had about fate and stars and how maybe the universe had written the two of you into each other’s lives before you even knew it. That maybe it was written in the stars all along, that you were meant to follow Kole that night, meet Noah at the fight club and that you both wouldn't be able to forget each other since that very first meeting.

It was probably also a way to show you that he didn’t think it was bullshit, like you said when he was about to leave.

You laughed and told him he didn’t even have room left for another tattoo. And in the blink of an eye, Noah had stood, stripped down to his boxers, and pointed at every inch of free skin he still had, grinning like a kid who knew was right.

Eventually, you’d both settled on a small open spot between his shoulder and upper arm, finding enough space for a cluster of six delicate, softly shaded stars. You’d sketched them in a style that matched the black-and-red ink already winding across his chest and arms, with clean lines, gentle gradients, nothing too flashy.

Just enough to make them his. Just enough to make them yours.

You pressed the machine gently against his skin, lining it up for your first pass, when he suddenly hissed through his teeth.

“Fuck, did I hurt you?” you asked immediately, eyes wide.

Noah burst out laughing. “Got you.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Nick chuckled from beside you and he kept casually chatting with Noah as you tattoed him.

When you finished, you turned the machine off and set it gently on the tray beside you, then finally wrapped it up.

Your fingers trembled just slightly as you peeled off your gloves and looked up at Noah, all you saw on his face was that soft, stupid smile that you always loved.

He glanced down at the new tattoo and saw six small, delicate stars fading gently into his skin between the scatter of older ink, the placement perfect just beneath his shoulder, catching the light when he moved.

Noah’s fingers brushed the fresh wrap as he sat up. “You killed it,” he said, “Seriously. That’s... perfect.”

You tried to play it cool, but your cheeks were already warm. “You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re legally obligated to love anything I do.”

“Not legally,” he said, smirking. “But I do.”

Behind you, Nick nodded approvingly as he looked at the wrap and the work underneath it. “Clean lines, good shading, nice flow with the rest of the piece. Damn, rookie.” He raised a brow. “You sure this was your first?”

Your heart did a stupid little skip. “Yeah,” you said, trying not to sound too proud. “First real one.”

Nick clapped a hand lightly on your shoulder. “Then you’re off to a hell of a start.”

You glanced back at Noah, who was already pulling his shirt back down with a grin that said he was going to show it off to every single person he knew, saying his girlfriend made it.

You said bye to Nick and stepped outside.

“So,” Noah said, “how’s it feel? First real piece in the books.”

You gave a quiet laugh, still trying to process it. “Terrifying. Amazing. Kind of like I’m gonna pass out but in a good way.”

He grinned. “That’s exactly how I felt when I met you.”

You bumped your shoulder into him. “Shut up.”

Noah chuckled. “Dinner now?” he asked. “I’m starving. And we need to celebrate your first tattoo."

You laughed softly. “Alright, fine. Let’s celebrate.”

Without missing a beat, Noah took your hand in his, fingers curling around yours naturally. You glanced down for a moment before meeting his eyes again and together, you started walking, toward the nearest restaurant in the area.

It wasn’t long before Noah had started his new job. And, to your quiet relief, he actually liked it.

He said it could be stressful at times: the kids never followed instructions, he claimed, and he insisted he wasn’t good with them. But you knew that wasn’t true. You’d seen him with Miles and Theo, the way he listened to them and let them be loud and silly without ever getting frustrated. He might not have known it, but he was good with kids, he was kind and patient.

Still, he’d come home some evenings shaking his head, muttering things like “they’ve got zero attention span” or “I swear one of them tried to bite me today” , but then he’d smile, and there’d be a fondness in his voice he didn’t bother to hide. “They’re funny, though,” he’d say. “And I think… I think they’re having fun too.”

He also ran a class for adult beginners, which was different, more focused, more serious, but he liked that too. There was a girl in her twenties who’d joined after being attacked by a man on her way home from work, and a man in his forties, who’d signed up after being mugged near his building. With them, Noah focused mostly on self-defense.

You could see the difference it made in him too, he was pround of having a job that could help people and that he enjoyed.

You’d told him, one evening while curled up on the couch together, that one day you were going to stop by the gym while he was working.

“I still have so much to learn from you, you know?” you said with a little smile, tracing the curve of his arm with your fingers.

“I’d rather do private lessons with you.”

“Oh yeah?” you replied. “Then maybe I’ll come by one late evening. After everyone’s gone. I’m sure Matt won’t mind.”

He gave a short laugh, resting his head back against the cushion. “You remember how it ended last time I tried to teach you anything?”

You grinned. “Mhm. Not bad, I’d say. Which is exactly why we should do it again.”

He smirked, “So what is it now? A new tradition? Sparring… then sex?”

You laughed, “Why not? Would you mind?”

“Oh, absolutely not. I love some traditions. Better than Christmas, honestly.”

You burst out laughing, covering your face with your hand as he grinned, proud of himself.

Some evenings, Noah came home late from the gym, with hair damp with sweat, hoodie clinging to his back and a tired expression painted on his face. You’d hear his key in the door, the familiar click, and then the soft thud of his bag hitting the floor.

He started coming home so late sometimes that it was too late for dinner. So you often packed him something to take to the gym, something he could eat during his break. He’d spent too many years not eating the way someone should, and you hated the thought of that happening again. You made him things that were easy to carry and didn’t need reheating: pasta salad with tuna and olives, wraps filled with chicken and veggies, boiled eggs with a side of fruit, rice and beans in a container. And, of course, his sandwiches. You knew he always smiled when he found one with peanut butter and pickles.

He’d told you once that Matt had asked him why he’d chuckled after unwrapping his sandwich during a break.

Noah had just shrugged and said, “It’s my favorite.”

Matt had looked at the sandwich and then kind of nodded, like he didn’t totally get it, but also didn’t think it was the worst thing in the world.

Back at home, he never said much at first. His eyes would find you, warm and tired, and you’d always know that he’d missed you.

Sometimes he’d cross the room without a word, burying his face in your shoulder or against your neck, arms wrapped tight around you.

“I stink,” he’d mumble, pulling back a little, trying to give you warning, even though he knew it never mattered to you.

“I don’t care,” you’d say, because you didn’t.

He’d sigh then. “Come shower with me?”

You always said yes.

The water would be hot and a little too strong at first, spraying off his shoulders and misting the small tiles as he peeled off his clothes. You’d step in behind him, and his body would already be softening from the heat, from your hands moving over his back with quiet care.

He’d always start by holding you, with his arms around your waist, chin resting against your head.

Sometimes, those showers were just soft.

His fingertips would trace lazy patterns on your skin while he kissed your shoulder, your jaw, the space behind your ear, and you'd wash his hair while you both chuckled about the fact that he was too tall and you couldn’t reach his head, working shampoo into the dark curls while he closed his eyes and rested his forehead to your shoulder, letting himself be taken care of.

Other times he looked at you like he’d spent all day missing you and wanting you.

And once the water hit your skin, once he saw your eyes on him, it was like something snapped loose.

He’d press you back against the tiles, lips on yours, fingers digging into your hips, his mouth finding all the places that made you breathless. Your hands would slip into his hair, wet and smelling like your favorite shampoo, tugging him closer.

You didn’t always make it to the bedroom.

But afterward, whether it was slow or fast, quiet or loud, he always held you. Water still running, arms wrapped around your waist, head against your shoulder.

And when you stepped out of the shower, both of you a little dazed and warm and clean, he’d press a kiss to your damp temple and whisper, “Missed you today,” like it wasn’t already written all over him.

One day, you decided to hang out with Amber and Vivienne.

It was a sunny morning when you and Noah met them for breakfast at La Rue, a small café with ivy on the walls and old jazz records playing low through the speakers. The tables were mismatched wood, each with a tiny vase of wildflowers. Someone had left a book on the window sill, a paperback with dog-eared pages.

You and Noah arrived first, choosing a table near the window. He sat beside you, not across, his knee gently bumping yours under the table. He looked around, then gave you a quiet smile.

“I like this place. Feels... calm.”

You nodded. “That’s why I picked it. I thought you’d like it.”

A moment later, Amber walked in, her hand loosely linked with Vivienne’s. Amber was wearing a linen blouse and sunglasses pushed up into her wavy hair, Vivienne had her locs pulled back and hands full of big rings. She smiled as they approached, a small, reserved smile that made her seem even more like someone you wanted to know.

“You beat us,” Amber said as she kissed your cheek.

Vivienne offered a soft “Hi,” before sliding into the chair across from you, introducing herself to Noah.

The four of you ordered coffees and breakfast: croissants, eggs, fruit, things shared across the table like between old friends.

Conversation came easily. Amber liked Noah (and making fun of him), and Vivienne kept making funny comments that always made Noah chuckle.

Noah listened more than he spoke, his hand sometimes brushing against yours or resting near your leg.

At one point, Amber mentioned how she and Vivienne had been spending more time together, and something about her voice changed, just slightly.

You smiled. “So... you’re serious now?”

Amber shrugged, but there was a flush to her cheeks.

“We’re figuring it out,” Vivienne said.

At one point, Amber leaned over the table and grinned at Noah. “And look at you! You’re not dying anymore.”

Vivienne, mid-sip of her coffee, paused. “You were dying?”

Noah gave a small shrug, glancing briefly at you. “Long story.”

Amber chimed in, “They stabbed him.”

Vivienne stared. “They stabbed you?”

Noah scratched his jaw, awkward. “Kind of…”

You groaned, half-laughing. “Guys. Please.”

Amber just smirked and popped a piece of fruit into her mouth like she hadn’t just casually dropped a bomb at brunch. Vivienne blinked a few times, then looked at Noah again, eyes narrowed, curious and amused.

“Well,” she said, leaning back, “you do seem suspiciously calm for someone who got stabbed.”

Noah shrugged. “I garden now.”

Vivienne raised her eyebrows. “Right. Clearly very therapeutic.”

You stifled a laugh, but it slipped out anyway. Noah tried to keep a straight face, lips twitching, then gave in and laughed with you.

Then you all went shopping together, even though Amber and Vivienne kept lagging behind, deep in conversation. You didn’t mind. You were genuinely happy for them.

As you walked through the center of town, you reached for Noah’s hand, first jusy brushing it gently, but he intertwined his fingers with yours without hesitation.

When your hands were like that, you always found yourself softly running your thumb over his knuckles. It just happened.

You couldn’t help it, every time you hold his hand, you thought about how often those knuckles have been bruised, broken and bloodied. And maybe that’s why you’re always so gentle with them now.

Then you all headed into a few clothing stores, drifting in and out of small boutiques tucked between bookshops and bakeries. Noah ended up trying on a few things: simple shirts in soft fabrics, a deep green sweater, a brown jacket that matched the color of his eyes.

Every time he stepped out of the fitting room, he turned to you first.

“How does it look?”

He always waited for your answer, like it actually mattered to him more than what he saw in the mirror. And even when you smiled and nodded, he’d still take his time. He’d look at himself again, turn slightly, tug at a sleeve, frown thoughtfully, then disappear back inside for a few more minutes, only to return with a new maybe.

He thought it over carefully before buying anything, but you could see it on his face, that he was proud. Not just of how he looked, but of the fact that he could do this now.

He had a job. He could afford to buy his own clothes.

And even if he didn’t say it out loud, you could tell it was important to him.

As you walked along the sidewalk, weaving between weekend shoppers and open-air stalls, Noah suddenly slowed his steps and glanced toward a shop a little further down the street, you weren’t even sure which one.

“I’m gonna go grab something real quick,” he said, nodding his head in that direction.

You tilted your head, a little curious. “Alright. I can come with you”

He gave a small grin. “It’s... guy stuff.”

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious. “We already have condoms at home.”

He huffed a laugh. “Not that kind of guy stuff.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I’ll just wander around alone like a lost puppy.”

He smiled, pressed a kiss to your temple, and said, “I won’t be long.”

So you let him go, watching him disappear into the little shop with its painted windows and half-broken bell above the door. You wandered nearby with Amber and Vivienne, pretending not to check the time even though part of you was impatient, a little curious, maybe even worried he’d vanished into thin air.

But ten minutes later, you felt a presence behind you. When you turned, Noah holding a small bouquet of fresh flowers wrapped in brown paper, just a handful of soft pink and white blooms, some green still clinging to the stems, like they’d just been picked that morning. He held them out to you, a little awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure if this kind of thing was allowed or if he was doing it right.

You blinked, smiling slowly. “Noah…”

“I know we already have a whole garden at home,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, “but I wanted to get these anyway.”

You looked down at them, then back up at him.

He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “I never gave you, you know… those ‘sorry I almost went back to fighting’ bouquet. And now that I have a job and money that’s actually mine… I wanted to. Just because I can. And because you like flowers. And you deserve all the things you like.”

You stepped forward, wrapping one hand around his wrist as you took the flowers with the other.

“Thank you,” you said softly, pulling him down for a kiss. “That's so sweet. Really, thank you.”

When you pulled back, you were still smiling.

“You didn’t have to make an excuse about guy stuff, you know,” you teased softly.

He shrugged. “I panicked.”

You laughed, holding the flowers to your chest. “Well, I love them. And you.”

He leaned in again, his voice low and a little shy. “I love you too.”

And for a moment, on that busy street filled with strangers and noise, it felt like it was just the two of you.

Later, you all stopped by the market to grab some things before heading home.

Noah moved through the aisles with the curiosity of someone discovering the world for the first time.

He picked up a pack of avocados, weighing them in his palm, next came some jars of pasta sauces, with sun-dried tomato, roasted garlic, creamy truffle, things he would have scoffed at once, either because he couldn’t afford them or because he never thought he’d be the kind of person who could casually walk around a store to buy them. He grabbed two, then hesitated and added a third.

You smiled quietly and said nothing, just happy watching him enjoy the simple pleasure of choosing things for himself, with his own money, for a life he was slowly building.

Of course, no shopping trip with Noah would be complete without the classics: a loaf of fresh bread, a jar of pickles, and a big tub of peanut butter.

“Essentials,” he said, holding them up with a straight face.

“Yeah, of course,” you laughed, nudging his side.

In another aisle, you heard Amber and Vivienne a few steps ahead, chatting.

“No, you talk too much,” Vivienne was saying with a smirk, holding a box of herbal tea. “You basically gave me your entire life story before I even rang up your vinyl.”

Amber laughed. “I didn't know what to do, okay? You were hot, and I forgot how to be a functioning human being.”

“You were buying the most basic white girl music ever. I should’ve known you were a disaster.”

“Well, I thought you were so cool. I walked out of that store already trying to figure out how to impress you.”

Vivienne gave her a look. “By coming back three times in one week and asking for albums you knew we didn’t have?”

Amber raised a hand, shameless. “Desperate times.”

Vivienne just shook her head, smiling to herself.

You were grinning as you listened, then you turned to Noah, the question already forming in your mind.

“So… what did you think the first time you saw me?” you asked.

He gave you a sideways glance like he was trying to figure out where this was going. “Seriously?”

“Mhm.”

He looked away, a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I thought you were cute,” he admitted. “And I thought you were too sweet for a place like that. You were just… there, helping a total stranger bleeding in a back alley.”

You tilted your head, watching him.

“And I might’ve thought,” he added, voice softer now, “that you were a little unhinged for even talking to me.”

You laughed. “Fair.”

“But mostly,” he continued, “I thought there’s no way someone like you would stick around. And I hated how much I wanted you to.”

You didn’t say anything at first. You just reached out and took his hand, your thumb gently stroking over his knuckles, instinctively, always drawn to those scarred places.

“Well,” you murmured, “joke’s on you.”

He smiled at that, “Yeah."

You glanced over at him after a moment, “Aren’t you going to ask what I thought of you when I first saw you?”

“I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me anyway.”

You nudged him lightly with your shoulder, playful, “I thought you had really beautiful eyes.”

He gave a little huff of disbelief, “They’re just eyes.”

“No,” you said, “They’re not just eyes. They’re beautiful. I like the shape of them. And they’re warm. Even when you tried to look all cold and scary. Anyway—let me finish.”

He chuckled but didn't add anything.

“I thought…” you continued, choosing your words with care, “that you looked like you were battling more than just your opponents. And I wanted to understand. To know you. Because something inside me just… felt that you deserved better. And I was right.”

You took a small breath. “And that night,” you said, even softer now, “when I went to bed with Kole… I imagined that his arm around me was yours. Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Not for a second.”

Noah stared at you for a long moment, then, without a word, he reached out and pulled you toward him in that quiet, easy way he had, with one arm sliding around your waist, the other hand cradling the back of your head as he tucked your face against his shoulder. He held you close, close enough that you could feel his heartbeat, and when he spoke, it was right against your ear.

“I love you so much,” he murmured.

You smiled into his shirt, arms wrapped around him, holding him just as tightly.

“I know,” you whispered. “Me too.”

You broke apart suddenly when you heard Amber’s voice behind you.

“Seriously? Near the frozen food section?” she said, raising an eyebrow as she walked past with a carton of oat milk in one hand. “Get a room, you two.”

You and Noah both laughed, a little startled, a little embarrassed. He pressed his lips together in an amused smirk, while you rolled your eyes.

Vivienne followed close behind Amber, shaking her head with a faint smile. “You said you just needed yogurt,” she muttered, glancing at the collection of things in Amber’s arms.

Amber ignored her, still grinning at you. “You’re lucky I love love,” she said, reaching into the freezer for a bag of something.

You leaned against Noah’s side, letting your shoulder touch his again. “Sorry,” you said, not sorry at all.

The evening air was still warm when you stepped back into your house, the soft click of the door closing behind you barely louder than the muffled sound of Noah’s voice coming from the living room. You paused in the hallway, sliding off your shoes, just catching the tail end of his conversation.

For a second, it almost felt like a flashback. The last time you’d walked in on something vaguely like this, you'd found Kole in bed with someone else. You knew it wasn’t the same, not even close, and you trusted Noah with all yourself, but your body remembered. And for a heartbeat, it braced for the worst.

“Yeah… yeah, that time works. Thanks. I appreciate it. See you then.”

A short pause. Then the low tone of his phone ending the call.

Buying a phone had been one of the first things he did once he started earning enough money. You’d told him you could get it for him, or at least help cover part of it, but he hadn’t let you.

Then, you registered his words and blinked. An appointment?

By the time you stepped into the living room, Noah was standing by the window, phone in his hand, the street lights outside casting a soft glow across his face.

“Oh—hi,” he said when he turned around. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”

You smiled a little, stepping closer. “Everything okay?”

He hesitated just for a second. Then nodded.

“Yeah. Actually… yeah.”

You waited.

He tucked his phone into his back pocket and ran a hand through his hair. “I was just, uh… I’ve been thinking about what you said. That night, about talking to someone. About not carrying everything alone.”

You started to understand and slowly nodded.

“I’ve been keeping so many things inside for... years.” He let out a soft breath, like the words tasted strange in his mouth, but he kept going. “So… I made an appointment. For next week. With someone.”

You blinked, then felt the soft pull of a smile starting to form.

“I mean, it’s just a start,” he added quickly, almost shyly. “I don’t know if therapy will actually help. But I figured I’d try. You were right.”

You stepped closer, close enough to rest your hand over his. “I know I probably said that hundreds of times but I’m really proud of you.”

His gaze lifted, met yours, and you thought he had never looked at you with so much love.

“I don’t know how this all works,” he said softly. “But I want to be okay. I want to keep building something with you. And if this helps me get there, even a little… I’m willing to try.”

You squeezed his hand, leaning into him, feeling the soft fabric of his hoodie against your skin. “That’s all I ever wanted. Just for you to try. For yourself. And I don’t really know how this stuff works either,” you admitted, voice soft. “But I’ll be there, okay? I can wait outside the place, and if you don’t like it, we can just leave. We can go back home, no pressure, I just don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing you or that you have to do this for me or—”

He leaned in and kissed you before you could finish, his lips warm against yours.

“You’re so cute when you start rambling,” he murmured against your mouth.

You huffed a quiet laugh, cheeks warm.

He cupped your cheek with one big, tattooed hand. “Will I be anxious? Absolutely. Will I want to bolt the second they say my name? Probably. But I felt like that the first time I ever stepped into the ring, too. The difference is… this time, I’m doing it to help myself. Not hurt myself. So yeah… I’ll get through it.”

You wrapped your arms around him without a second thought, pressing your face into his chest, and he pulled you in just as tightly. His chin rested gently on the top of your head, and his hand slid under the back of your shirt, not to start anything, just to feel your skin beneath his palm. He did that often.

“I love you,” he murmured quietly, closing your eyes.

You were so genuinely happy, you realized.

You had a boyfriend who you loved and who loved you. A best friend who made you laugh until your stomach hurt and who Noah found just as funny as you did. A white cat curled up on the couch a few feet away, tail flicking lazily in his sleep. Two kids who never stopped asking when they’d see you again.

You had built something, despite the mess of where you started.

You tilted your head up, just enough to meet his eyes.

His hair had been growing longer lately, falling into his eyes and brushing the nape of his neck in soft, brown strands. You loved it. You hoped he wasn’t planning on cutting it anytime soon, because that old “threat” you’d made months ago in the fight club locker room still stood: if he only thought about picking up scissors, you’d hide every single pair in the house, in the city and in the world.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

You were so genuinely happy.

Because he was trying.

Because he came back.

Because he was still choosing this. Choosing you. Choosing himself.

And maybe that wasn’t the end of the story.

Maybe it was just the beginning.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog @pandora-08 @geminigirlfromfinland @rumoured-whispers @astronoids @im-the-fucking-king

Fresh bruises tags: @1toreyouapart @respectfulrebel @dragoncopper @overmydeadbodysblog @fear-its-beauty @xslavicprincess @concreteangel92 @super-btstrash-posts @pipidoll @pipidoll @bluehairpunklol @tktstomydwnfall @jesuisunchaton @brutallysoftmuse @acatatonicpeace @spookieolson @dontwantthemoney @renegadebirch @awkwardalex @nojoyontheburn @jaded-and-hollow-souls @milkysoop @spacec0wgirl777 @kenjipepsi1 @namenotimportant1373

[clark-krypto]

First Date with Clark Kent

Word count- 530

Gender Neutral and Sfw!

Send asks! It helps me get ideas for future fics.

Border by @enchanthings

✶ You met Clark Kent at work. Even though your a new hire, you made your presence known as a strong writer

✶ It all started over coffee, he saw you coming and nervously poured you out a cup for you. “Thank you, Clark” you say through a smile graciously accepting the cup.

✶ Once you broke through his nervous shell you talked ALL THE TIME. During your lunch breaks you would chat about anything and everything.

✶ Your feelings for Clark started from day one. His dorky nervousness had always charmed you. So, you proposed dinner at this restaurant you LOVED next Friday at 8.

✶ When you proposed this plan his face turned beet red. “That sounds wonderful, Next Friday it is!” Clark stated as he bashfully pushed up his glasses.

✶ The romantic tension between you and Clark only seemed to rise as Friday grew closer and closer. During the week, it was little smiles or your fingers brushing his for only a split second. Little things like that only made your anticipation grow.

✶ Once you got home Friday you giddily started getting ready. Picking out your best clothes and styling your hair just right for him.

✶ You met him in front of the restaurant at about 5 minutes til 8. “Very punctual Kent” you smile meeting him at the door. “Well, early is on time” he chuckled opening the door for you.

✶ “Reservation for Kent” he says fiddling with his glasses. A little surprised, you ask, “You made a reservation?” As you both started to walk toward your table he shyly responds, “Of course, I couldn’t miss the chance to have dinner with you over some silly reservation.”

✶ Sitting down at the secluded booth you finally felt like you had some sort of privacy. You took for granted his smile, it’s one in a million for sure. One that you only come across a couple times in life.

✶ Over dinner you talked about your lives and what got you to Metropolis. “Well”, Clark starts, “I grew up in Smallville, Kansas. It was pretty uneventful. I needed to move here because I could finally make a difference and help people”. “By being a reporter?” You replied, finishing up your food. “Uhm…well..yeah! A good reporter gives trusted news to the people of Metropolis. Who wouldn’t want that?” You nodded your head in agreement “True”.

✶ Dinner was fantastic, mostly made so by his presence. You offered to pay for your own meal but he insisted. Before you two talked out he left a hefty tip for the waiter. Instinctually, you took his hand as you guided him out of the restaurant to the evening summer air.

✶ You both strolled in the direction of your apartment, not in any rush to stop the night. But also wanting him to walk you home anyway.

✶ Once you got there you stoped, clutching his hands with a smile. “I had a wonderful time with you tonight. Hopefully we can do this again.” His cheeks and ears ruby and shyly smiled. “I hope so too”. And then you looked at each other for a second in silence. Not necessarily awkward, but loving. You leaned in, and your lips connected into a deep kiss.

[withering-daylight]

EARLY MORNING | LANDOSCAR

🖇️(MAIN) masterlist | 🖇️F1 masterlist | 🖇️landoscar masterlist

summery: a domestic morning with landoscar!

warnings: none!

word count: 1k

A/N: landoscar fluff because I love them sm and I just want them to kiss already!! Also yes, I researched the position of the sun in Monaco (8/1/25, the date I began writing this) to keep it accurate (somewhat)

tag list (ask to be tagged, or taken off!): @obsessedhoneycomb

Oscar groaned as early sunlight peaked through the sheer, linen curtains of the large window in their bedroom. Blinking sleep away, he turned his head to look at the alarm clock on his bedside table.

6:20 AM. Or, in other words: too fucking early.

Monte Carlo begged to differ, as sport cars honked and roared down the narrow streets. Faint sounds of birds trilling happily, yachts starting up at the marine.

Because in Monte Carlo, the moment the sun comes up, the people are up. Store owners are opening to the public, influencers and celebrities alike going on a quick run or getting coffee. Albeit busy, but peaceful.

Oscar turned his head and moved closer to the warmth that was Lando. Wrapping his arms around his bare waist and pressing his face against the Brit’s chest. He let his legs tangle with Lando’s. The only thing modest about Lando in the mornings was his boxer briefs. Even then, he just preferred sleeping naked. Meanwhile, Oscar usually wore /at least/ a shirt to bed. Something simple, like the black T-shirt he currently had on.

“Morning, Osc.” Lando yawned, looking down at the pale, tired, man that was his boyfriend. He leaned his head down and kissing the crown of Oscar’s head. It seemed he’s been up a couple minutes earlier than Oscar.

The Australian practically melted under the covers when he heard Lando’s voice; deeper than its usual pitch, and hoarse from eight hours of rest. Oscar grumbled something that barely resembled English, the muscles in his arms tightening around Lando.

The Brit laughed in reply. A soft chuckle that Oscar could feel rumbling in the other’s chest.

“Don’t worry sleeping beauty, we’ll stay in bed longer.” Lando grinned tiredly.

“Yay…” Oscar mumbled, still groggy from sleep. Then, trying to move closer to Lando even though he was as close as he physically could be.

Oscar certainly was not a morning person by any means. Meanwhile, some mornings Lando would be an early riser, some mornings he wasn’t. It just depends on how well he slept.

A couple minutes later, the familiar sound of a sport car—either a Porsche or Mercedes—roared loudly in the distance, only making Oscar groan in annoyance.

Lando snickered, letting one of his hands move to Oscar’s left cheek, gently caressing it sweetly. “Baby.. are you seriously that upset about a loud car disturbing your morning cuddle session with me?” He asked with a teasing grin.

“..yeah.” Oscar grumbled. Lando laughed. The type of laugh that came from the belly. He threw his head back against the pillows, “You’re so moody in the mornings without your coffee.” Lando said with a shake of his head. He leaned down and kissed Oscar’s cheek, smiling against his skin.

A soft, cherry-red hue bloomed on Oscar’s cheeks. As well as a small smile creeping onto his lips. Lando hummed in satisfaction, sitting up and propping himself up with his elbow.

“How about, I get up and make you coffee, then we can spend the whole day out on the water?” Lando asked, letting his right hand caress the Australian’s left cheek sweetly. His eyes wander over Oscar’s moles that adorned his face like constellations. His short lashes— oh how Lando loved to look at Oscar’s lashes. How they’d flutter whenever he was tired.

Oscar smiled, a thin smile that resembled the “polite cat” smile he was known for, but this smile held more warmth. Warmth only for Lando.

While Lando wasn’t the best cook, he did make the best coffee. Coffee in fact so good to the point that Oscar wouldn’t even enjoy coffee from stores. “Alright, I’d like that.” He replied, leaning into Lando’s comforting hand.

Lando nodded, moving his hand away and getting up off the bed. He yawned and put his arms over his head, stretching for a few seconds. The sun filtered into the room, covering Lando’s body in golden hues that somehow made him more gorgeous than he already was— ethereal even.

Now, with Lando’s back facing Oscar as he rummaged for some shorts in their dresser, Oscar felt his cheeks warm up for the second time that morning. Every ridge, every muscle that flexed in Lando’s back just looked so.. hot. Not to mention how perfect Lando’s ass looked in his boxer briefs.

Oscar choked out an embarrassed cough, turning his gaze towards the window and the glittering water, cheeks still visibly flushed. Lando looked behind him with a knowing smirk, putting on some dark shorts before walking to the kitchen.

Oscar sat on the bed for a couple minutes before deciding to join Lando. So, with a small grunt, he stood up from the bed and moved to the dresser to put on a pair of socks. After stretching out his legs and back, he left the bedroom and walked into the living room.

The whole apartment was coated from ceiling to floor in an indescribable warmth that only Monaco has to offer.

Turning the television on with the remote, Oscar hummed and took long, tired strides to the kitchen area. Lando by now, had noticed the Australian had joined him. As Oscar wrapped his arms loosely around Lando’s torso, the other had turned his head to the side and kissed Oscar’s temple.

Oscar smiled tenderly, resting his head against Lando’s and sighing contently. “I love you.” He whispered, as if scared that speaking too loud would ruin the softness of the moment. Lando grinned, placing a warm mug of coffee in Oscar’s hands. “I love you too, Osc.” Lando whispered sweetly, pressing his forehead against Oscar’s.

Oscar smiled, bringing the mug up to his lips and taking a sip of the warm coffee. God it was amazing.

Everything was amazing.

© withering-daylight — DONT CLAIM, TRANSLATE, MODIFY, REPOST, OR CREDIT YOURSELF FOR MY WORK ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

[tovibeornottovibe]

Do we get a fic teaser? 🎁

for you, anon, how about three? one for Azriel, one for Eris, and one for Nyx, depending on your preferences :) Az's is very fluffy, Eris' is angsty, and Nyx's is a bit smutty - also these might change in the final versions, but for now...

Don't Be Daft, You Practically Live Here - Part 2 - Teaser

🪽Azriel x Fem!OC - tooth-rotting fluff, secret relationship, domestic bliss, minor minor minor angst

Part 1 here!

Discarding her book—an easily-read romance designed to help turn one’s brain off—on the coffee table, Merrin padded over to him, avoiding Raskal as he scampered past and settled on her warm armchair in the corner of the room. Azriel’s shadows cascaded off him until they were suddenly pulled back to his shoulders. She perched on the corner of the table next to him, and that’s what finally made him look at her, a small smile appearing on his lips as he did so.

Even tense, he was glorious. He’d pushed the sleeves of his black shirt up, revealing the tone of his forearms, marred skin disappearing at his elbow. How many times had she gripped him just there? At the joint of his wrist where she could feel the rapid pulse of the blood in his veins, the thundering beat of his heart? Two of his top buttons had been undone, the whorls of the tattoos he used to despise just peeking over the fabric. His wings, his criminally beautiful wings, were turned slightly down, flared a little for comfort while he sat, the membranes glowing red under the warm faelight hanging over the table. He waited for her to speak with tired, hazel eyes. What she wouldn’t give to drown in the depth of those eyes…

He was so, so gorgeous. 

“You’re staring, Mer,” he said, daring to let some amusement brighten his face.

With a shake of her head and a smile of her own, she flicked him in the arm, which made him huff out a laugh. He quirked a brow at her, as if to ask what is it that you wanted? She considered what she could say to get him to step away: You’ve been at it for hours, hun; I’m tired, come to bed; working all through the night won’t mean that tomorrow never comes; I love you, please stop worrying; it’s only Starfall, Az. How bad can it be?

“I’m making tea,” she said softly. “Want some?”

For a moment, he seemed to think, before he set down his pen and sat back in his chair. Merrin almost sagged with relief when he turned his attention back to her and said with a tilt of the head, “Sure. Do you need any help?”

She was, as they both knew, perfectly capable of making tea by herself. And yet…

“Can you boil the kettle for me?” she asked, her voice still low, as though it would spook him if she spoke any louder. 

“Of course.” 

A rough sigh left his lips as he stood, stretching out his wings and lifting his arms until even she could hear a pop! She tracked the movement, the rustling of his wings, the arch of his back and the crane of his neck. Catching her staring a second time, he chuckled. “Am I really that distracting?” he teased. She offered him a smile, but she could tell it hadn’t reached her eyes, and that he would notice.

Slyly, she moved his unfinished report to his pile of papers and shuffled in front of him. He noted the movement, obviously, and if he cared that she put away his things for him, he certainly didn’t mention it. He only frowned when she looked up at him with wide eyes. From here, she could see just how deep the purple bruises under his eyes were. Perhaps he hadn’t been sleeping so well, even when he stayed the night in her apartment. She felt bad for not recognising the change.

“Hey,” he said, placing a gentle hand around her waist as he settled closer, the other coming to rest against the table. “What’s wrong?”

Merrin leant into him, grabbing his hand as she pressed a kiss to his lips. A part of her was pleased when she saw his pupils dilate just a little, but she mostly felt worried. He needed to sleep tonight. She wanted, needed, him to relax. His grip on her waist got tighter by a touch to gain her attention.

“Merrin,” he said, pulling back. “What is it?”

Playing with his fingers, she tore her gaze away while he looked at her expectantly. Nothing was really wrong, she just… didn’t want him to stress out. He had enough of that. Tomorrow was supposed to be fun. Today was supposed to be easy. 

“Stop working,” she said, turning to him. “Come sit with me.”

He stilled for a moment, then his face softened and the tension drained from his muscles; she could actually see him loosen up. “Okay,” he said quietly. With another kiss, he straightened and pulled her up off the table with him. Hands intertwined, he tugged her towards the kitchen while his shadows trailed down his arm, inspecting where they were joined. “We have cinnamon in the cupboards somewhere, don’t we?”

She hummed confirmation. “Second from the left, middle shelf.” Her voice a little more spritely, she eyed him and said, “Why? Thinking about coming over to the superior side of spiced chai?” 

A hangover from her home Court. An imported tradition from the Autumn Court. They drank more cinnamon in their tea down there than the whole of the Continent combined.

“I’m thinking I could do without your tea snobbery,” he fired back, squeezing her hand. “My black tea suits me fine.”

“I stand by the idea that no sugar is a diabolical choice,” she smiled, glad to see him letting go of all the things about tomorrow that were getting him down. Not completely, but maybe enough. In turn, she felt her own reservations about his state of mind melting away.

His laugh came easily, deep and rumbling and gods she loved the sound. Such a rare thing from him in the early days. But now, she didn’t go a day with him without getting at least one, given so freely it made her heart clench, even if they were both sad and huddled in each other’s company for the whole time.

For a male who had been through so much, the fact that he was capable of laughing at all was incredible. There were lots of incredible things about him, though, she supposed. She felt so overwhelmingly lucky that he’d picked her, of all the people in Velaris, of all the brilliant, extraordinary people in the whole world, to spend his time with.

“Not all of us like to feel our teeth rotting away with every sip,” he said, wrinkling his nose, which had a short laugh bubbling in her throat.

“Just boil the damn kettle and drink your leaf water.”

He tutted, pretending to be offended, and she reluctantly let go of him while he retrieved the cinnamon for her and his tea leaves. She prepped the teapot as he filled the kettle and set it to boil on the stove. Azriel preferred to steep his tea in the mug. Had she not loved him so much, that would have been a dealbreaker for her.

“I think Nesta’s read that book before,” he said, leaning against the counter, back to the stove as he watched her grab mugs. On the Solstice, he’d gotten her one from the Dawn Court which stayed heated with just a tap on the bottom. Some collaboration with Winter Court engineers, apparently, he’d said. Merrin had very excitedly explained to him exactly how it worked. It had once been just a hypothetical thing, but they were making leaps and bounds in temperature magic. He’d listened with a grin on his face.

It seemed a small gift, but Merrin hated when he spent money on her, even if he had an absurdly large paycheque. The dress they’d bought earlier had been enough to make her choke. Azriel had paid for it without a single thought.

He continued, “Not as good as Sellyn Drake, according to her.”

Merrin scoffed, coming to stand in front of him. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his chest, taking in the comforting scent of cedar and something distinctly outdoorsy which clung to him. Every now and again, she caught the smell of him on her pillows and in her hair.

“As popular as Sellyn Drake is,” she began as his arm curled around her waist, “it really is just fucking. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” she added quickly, very aware that she did, in fact, own every Sellyn Drake novel published and that they were colour-coordinated on her bookshelves. She went to her book launches when Kessler deigned to come out of her writing cave and invited her along. She had a signed copy of Golden String somewhere. “But at least that one has some kind of plot to it.”

“You called it an abomination to literature a few days ago,” he deadpanned. 

“It’s fun to hate-read.”

“It’s okay if you like the smut, Merrin.”

“Oh, shut it,” she said, wrinkling her nose while he chuckled at her. “Like you’ve never read any erotica.”

“I hope you aren’t questioning my virtue.”

His hand began to wander down until he was grazing the skin of the small of her back. She practically purred at his touch.

“I don’t think we can debate that one, hun,” she laughed softly.

Az’s reply came in the form of a kiss to the top of her head and a rumbling, nonchalant hum. Perhaps accidentally, but probably on-purpose, her knuckles swept across the inner membrane of his wing as she pulled him impossibly closer. He tensed, his grip tightening just a little.

“Careful,” he warned, his voice low.

Blinking up at him innocently, sly smile on her face, she opened her mouth to speak, but, just at the wrong moment, the kettle began to whistle. Azriel all but slammed it onto the counter, reaching behind him to take it off the flame without even looking. She was certain that if they hadn’t needed to look presentable for Starfall, she’d already have been bent over the kitchen table.

“Are we drinking tea or are we going to bed?” he asked slowly, eyes dark and trained on hers.

As much as she’d have liked him to throw her over his shoulder, chuck her onto the bed and fuck her ‘til she couldn’t think…

“I think I’d like to be able to walk tomorrow,” she said, doing her best to look apologetic. “Sorry, didn’t mean to tease.”

He stilled. “You don’t have to apologise,” he said, his tone serious. “Ever. Not for that. Not to me.”

She hadn’t even realised she’d said sorry. Her head fell to his shoulder.

“I know,” she mumbled against him. “It’s just… habit.”

He held her, his hand rubbing soothing circles against her back, his shadows skittering over her arms and nestling in her hair. They were quiet. There wasn’t much to say.

Merrin loosed a breath. She was out. She was with Az. She was okay. She got herself out.

Pulling away slightly, just so she could look at him properly, Merrin offered him a small smile. He returned it.

“Tea?” he asked.

She agreed with a nod. “Tea.”

...

‘But She's Looking at Me’ - Teaser from Under a Blood Red Sky/the next installment of the Kingmaker Series

❤️‍🔥Eris Vanserra x Healer!Fem!OC - angst, Eris being Eris, jealousy, pining

more eris and cleo here!

Eris should have expected it, planned for it. It’s obvious and he’s a fool for not considering it.

It’s a cruel, cruel joke of the Mother’s to dangle her in front of him like this, and he should have expected that too.

She had entered at her brother’s side, but has since broken away from his little group, content to wander through the crowds alone. She joins the conversations of those she knows professionally, exchanging quaint, polite words before she moves on to the next with the perfect aloofness of a lady bred to be a socialite. Eris knows she can’t have been, though (no noble family lets a first-born daughter become a healer), and he leans further over the edge of the viewing platform like he might hear what she says if he gets closer.

Like her compatriots, Cleo is wearing white, but, unlike them, she is the only one it truly suits. Her dress swishes at her ankles, which are wrapped in the delicate ties of her sandals (Heels, she tells him, are wildly impractical.), and cascades elegantly around her. The light, soft fabric that he can almost feel between his fingers hugs her hips and cinches at her waist. The neckline dips daringly between her breasts and the whole thing is held up by thin straps, knotted together at the nape of her neck. Incidentally, the expanse of her back is on display, showing the dip of her spine and the even tan of her skin. It’s simple, understated, but that’s all it needs to be; she is the real sight.

Before he can catch himself, Eris trails her around the floor as she moves, his face carefully neutral. He sees the glinting pins which keep her dark hair swept up into an elegant twist, revealing both the golden rings in her ears and the close, gold necklace at the base of her throat. Its pendant is no more than a small depiction of the sun, stylised in the artistic fashion of her Court. Around her left bicep is a golden arm band: the mark of a senior healer. Her smile is soft, pleasant, and her lovely eyes are bright. She seems happy. Confident.

But Eris knows, he checks, he’s not the only one looking.

Ravenous, barely constrained gazes watch her when she passes. Males and females alike have their attention stolen, their sentences falter, and if she stops to talk, they take their time to appreciate every inch of her like lechs. Eris’ blood boils in his veins every time she doesn’t seem to notice, and he thinks them idiots for believing they might be good enough to even contemplate being her companion tonight.

If he were a male of a different sort, perhaps someone else entirely, he would tackle the stairs, slip wordlessly beside her into a conversation she was having and press his fingers into the small of her exposed back. He’d let the cool feel of his rings against her skin send shivers down her spine, a gentle, firm reminder of him while she talks. 

If she were a different kind of female, one who he could court so openly, she might look up at him mid-sentence and smile. He might let her lead him around the room, meeting people who look warily at him but endure his presence for her sake, and ply her with wine when she asks for it. They might get bored of the politicking and retreat somewhere quieter, talk in hushed, comfortable tones about all the things they had done when they had been apart from each other—they both had obligations they could not avoid in their own Courts which ate up their precious time together.

And when the night descended into hedonism, as Helion’s parties always do, when fae started leaving in twos, threes, fours and the air grew thick with the heady scent of anticipation, they would find themselves in the centre of the room, hand in hand. Eris would curl his body over hers, dip his head and ghost her lips with his. Press close, hip-to-hip, before whispering something intimate into the shell of her ear and nipping at the hollow of her neck. In return, she’d give him one of those sly, wicked smiles of hers and wind her hand under his shirt, tenderly tracing the scars along his skin which would no longer bring him so much discomfort—not when she, in this fantasy of his, had done this so often and without pity, only care. 

She’d laugh at him secretively, because she knew that none of this would be for her benefit, as much as she might enjoy it. No, their closeness wouldn’t be intended to obscure, not to give them some semblance of privacy in public; all this would be for those hungry stares she’d garnered all night, to say, Go on, watch. You might be looking at her, but she’s looking at me.

That privacy would be reserved for the end of the night, when she snuck into his guest room, or maybe he would go to hers. They’d spend hours together, all through the night, until he had every pretty sound she made memorised.

But Eris isn’t that sort of male.

He isn’t free to court her. He can’t touch her. Can’t appreciate her. Shouldn’t even talk to her. He might be in charge of his brothers tonight, but they are his watchmen. They will report back to his father his every move, including ones which involve mysterious Dawn Court females with pretty eyes...

Oh, It Just Had to Be You, Didn't It? - Part 1 Teaser

🌃Nyx Archeron x Eris'Daughter!Fem!OC - since it's technically the first chapter (and many, many thousands of words long), Seren isn't actually in it yet, but... the inner circle being nosey, Nyx being a rake, diplomatic incidents, sex, bi king nyx lmao

Series Masterlist | Prologue for this one here!

Harsh knocking drags Nyx from sleep, and the first thing he feels is the warmth of a body beneath him in bed. It takes him a moment to remember where he even is; the pounding in his head is so strong he can hear it thumping in his ears.

Right, he thinks, Day Court. Training. Party for his final day. Lots and lots of strong, Day-Court wine, and a plethora of fuck-me eyes directed his way—

“I swear to the Cauldron, Nyx, if I have to come in there…”

Oh, the Mother save him, that’s Mor. 

And that, slowly blinking awake, his grip on Nyx’s hip tightening as he shifts under his weight, is the Captain of Helion’s Guard. The prettiest fuck-me eyes of the night.

With a huff, Nyx lets his head fall back onto his shoulder and he squeezes his eyes shut, willing the throbbing in his temples away. The Captain—Yoric, his name is Yoric, Nyx had learnt it when he was barely fifteen, going through the authorities of each Court with his father—bleary-eyed, mumbles in his ear, “Please tell me that isn’t your Aunt.” Then he nips at his earlobe and a groan, half-pleased, half-pissed off, rumbles in Nyx’s chest.

Mor answers for him. “You have thirty seconds, Nyx!”

Yoric laughs as Nyx swears a dirty, vulgar word which he’d rather his parents never know he uses. “Give me a minute!” he calls back at her, then he reaches up and clamps his hand around Yoric’s mouth before he can dare to speak, and shoves his thigh between his bare legs. It pleases him when the male beneath him tenses so beautifully. Keeping the annoyance from his voice, Nyx murmurs for only Yoric to hear. “Be good,” he says, pressing a kiss or two to the underside of his jaw, “and stay quiet for me. Can you do that?” 

He waits for Yoric to dip his head, almost expecting a challenge, and releases him. 

Nyx pushes himself up, ignoring how his muscles scream in protest, and detangles his wings from his sheets. He almost purrs when he catches Yoric hissing as he pulls away, mourning the loss of him already, and he can feel his eyes on him as he climbs off the bed and hooks a pair of trousers up from the floor. The fabric is loose and hangs low on his hips. Slightly too big, he thinks, fastening the fly. Hopefully, Mor won’t notice—she’ll be too busy not thinking about her nephew taking someone to bed to realise they aren’t his. 

Decent enough, Nyx takes a moment to try and flatten his hair, but it’s mostly useless. He can still feel where Yoric’s hands had tugged, among other things. 

The bright light outside his door makes him squint and shield his eyes, even though he only pulled it open a fraction. He hears his Aunt let out something unintelligible, maybe a prayer, or a curse, and he manages to brave the daylight to look at her.

As ever, she’s in red, a flowy gown typical of this time of year in Velaris, but the shade makes Nyx’s eyes water. She’s frowning at him. Still, she has the power to make him feel like a child, even though he surpassed her in height, and strength, years ago, and he fights not to shrink under her scrutiny. Mercifully, she doesn’t try to peer behind him to get a look at his bed. In fact, she’s leaning away a bit, and Nyx realises it’s probably because he’s drenched in the scent of stale sex.

“It’s midday, Nyx,” she says, not unkindly, but not particularly impressed either. 

“Shit. I’m sorry,” he says, the gravel in his voice making the words catch in his throat, “I was, uh…” 

She raises a brow at him. “Preoccupied?”

He suppresses the urge to look behind him and, no doubt, be met with Yoric’s gorgeous mouth tilted into a smirk. “Something like that.” He pulls the door closer to him as though it might hide what he’d been doing from her.

“Well, un-occupy yourself. We leave in an hour, no matter your state.” With a look that offered him no chance to argue, Mor strides off down the corridor, adding pointedly without glancing back, “And tell Yoric that Helion’s giving him the day off, will you?”

With a sigh, Nyx shuts the door again, leans against it and readjusts to the darkness of his guest room. The weight against his wings is both uncomfortable and welcome. 

Flat on his stomach, his head resting on his forearms and the sheets pooled temptingly at his slightly raised hips, Yoric eyes him from the bed. Even without peering into his head, though Yoric’s thoughts are often very, very loud when it comes to him, Nyx can tell he wants to say something.

“Don’t,” he snarls softly, tone all bite, pushing himself off the door, “or I’ll find something else for your tongue to do.”

A sleep-ridden, amused hum escapes him. “What a terrible shame that would be. On my day off too.”

It’s something about Yoric’s arrogance, Nyx supposes. Oh, he’s a handsome male, to be sure: perfectly toned back, sun-kissed, uninked skin, sinfully tapered waist, and an angular face which suits the eyeliner stains on his cheeks. But Nyx liked breaking him last night, had wanted to watch his conviction waver and make him beg for him to take him, and he did, over and over again. Just the thought makes his cock stir. It’s the thrill of it—of pushing someone so close to the edge they have no choice but to give in. If they want that, of course. Nyx only enjoys it as much as they do, and no one’s ever complained.

Nyx rounds the bed carefully, stops at the end, and tilts his head at him like he’s considering something, heat coiling in his stomach. 

“You can’t be serious,” Yoric says, propping his head up on his hand, probably scenting his building arousal. “Aren’t you leaving?”

“An hour is a long time,” Nyx replies. Decision made, he crawls back between Yoric’s legs, his hand hooking under the covers and pulling them from his bare hips in one, deliberate movement. He settles pressed against him, and chuckles mirthlessly when Yoric’s breath hitches. “Does it hurt, arching your back like that for me?” he asks, trailing a finger down the dip of his spine, right down to the curve of his ass. “Or did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

...

hope that can tide you over for now, anon <3

dividers used are made by @tsunami-of-tears (here's their masterlist!)

[herearedragons]

90% of mutuals are asleep post Drakona's very normal relationship with intimacy writeup

(honestly there's nothing explicit in there but idk, people put their suggestive headcanons under readmores so I'm doing it also)

did not have any sexual experience or knowledge prior to coming to the Neath. they were a Proper Lady who was Promised To Someone

I'm going back and forth on when was the first time they slept with someone, but honestly the early Persuasive MYN Veilgarden seductions seem like a safe bet. in general during that time they get really into the Bohemian lifestyle and start leveling up that Hedonist quirk, so it makes sense to me. nonzero chance of their first time happening in a honey dream.

the thing they discovered promptly after is that this gets people to talk. whether it's pillow talk or people being a little too free with their information in an attempt to impress someone they want to get into bed. and, well, they're a detective now, anything that gets them information is useful. and they do find they enjoy both the social song and dance of seduction and, well, the activity itself. and surely disappearing forever once you got what you need will not have any unfortunate consequences later on.

I already decided that they were taking hand-to-hand combat lessons from the red-stockinged ladies in the Parlor of Virtue (that is the canon lore of one half of the origin of the School of Hard Knocks and I love it), so it makes sense to me that they probably approached those same contacts for like, sex ed and general tips on the subject. vivid scene in my mind where they're talking to their courtesan friend and she's like. trying to be patient going "if you're trying to save your marriage you should know this is probably not going to solve it for you," and they go "no I'm literally just in it for the love of the game" and she goes "well in THAT case."

they do just have several notebooks somewhere at home filled with what they learned from the courtesans and their own observations.

honestly never really thought about their own preferences that much because they're focused on appealing to their partner first. on account of the manipulation. they do get genuine satisfaction out of being able to get a person exactly where they want them, though. like most of Everything Else it's a performance to them and it feels good to get a reaction from the audience (they are very normal)

they enjoy the feeling of being desired both for the feeling itself and the power that comes with it. it also kind of ties into their gender thing where it's like. not just being accepted as they are, but wanted as they are

even with that, for the longest time they DID see promiscuity/generally being open with their sexuality as a Bad Thing they are getting away with. they. still kind of do? it's weird. they're mostly done with the self loathing on that account because they've kind of let go of the idea of staying loyal to James, but I think there's still a little something left. I guarantee you they had some kind of moment of dreaming/hallucinating him talking about being disgusted by what they've become etc etc

sex is kind of inherently tied to control in their mind, on account of the manipulation(2). it's a way to control the narrative, a way to control someone's relationship to them. it's also usually transactional. you get something, I get something, and because it's a Private Matter it stays between us. making a relationship intimate can be advantageous not just because it ties the other person to them/endears them to that person further, but because it becomes a Sensitive Matter that is less likely to be discussed.

their relationship with the Firebrand is a break in the pattern not just because they actually fall in love with him, but also because their first time with him, which is that hookup in the ruins, doesn't achieve anything. it's useless. they don't need to do this. if anything, it's going to greatly complicate things because his wife is there. as their main expedition partner. they do it anyway, and for once it's not about taking control but about letting go of it, in a way

you will STILL see them leaning on seduction and flirting as a way to lead him away from uncomfortable conversations. they do it less and less as the relationship becomes deeper and more stable but you can SEE them using it as a copout in the early days.

in general there's the thing of like. they start out not being allowed to think about their sexuality at all as Catherine, come to see it as a fortunately pleasant means to an end as Drakona, and then they wind up in a committed relationship with someone they are deeply attracted to and have to figure intimacy out all over again as something that is communication rather than manipulation. which is fun to me. get emotional vulnerability'd.

[chromieclipse]

By your own blessing i'm asking for everyone who don't know yet, myself included

Achilles and Zain, what can you tell us about them and their stories? (Without spoiling future stuff ofc :3)

What made you come up with them? What story are they cannon to and WHY THEY SO DAMN ADOREABLE HELP ME AAAAAAAAA (sorry i had to gush a bit X3)

Of course, I'm happy to!

Achilles and Zain are a pair of OCs I like to put into kind of everything, but for the purposes of this explanation, I'll just describe who they are and what's going on with them in Deltarune!

This got really long so I'll put it all below a cut <3

Achilles moved around a lot as a kid, up until he moved into Hometown when he was around 12 after his mother's disappearance. He's autistic, trans, and gay, and he struggles a lot with connecting to people on a deep level. He was friends with the Holidays and Dreemurrs until Dess's disappearance when he was 16. Due to it reflecting his own trauma, he became incredibly distant with the two families - still staying in contact with Asriel, but generally keeping to himself.

He's very morally driven, wanting to do the "right" thing. Ever since Dess disappeared, his goal has been to find her and bring her back. There's a certain level of responsibility he puts on himself for this, feeling as though he should have done something to prevent her disappearance, to save her - but he's made little progress in the years since her disappearance.

If he were in the game, you'd be able to find him on the way to the Shelter, leaning against a tree. He'd be closer and closer to it, up until midway through chapter 4, where he's at the shelter, and you can ask him why he's always down here. he'd explain that a shelter is meant to keep people safe, and you don't just close off a location meant to save people. Something isn't right about that.

When asking about his scars (something you could do every chapter, every time you speak to him) he'd tell you a different story. In chapter 1, he'd say he's surprised Asriel didn't tell you, before pausing, and then having a little smile as he tells you an absolutely ridiculous way he got them. Susie likely says he's full of crap at some point lol

In the Dark World, his gimmick revolves around being unable to defeat enemies when he attacks them! He'll leave them at 1hp, and then he will purposefully miss attacks. He has a fire breath magic attack, a regular attack (which he does with a warhammer), and a healing action :> A-action would likely be some awkward social interaction and it would be funny every time.

Achilles is a person trying to adjust to "normal" life when he doesn't really understand normality, even after years of living in Hometown.

Zain, on the other hand, is a wanderer who intentionally leaves his backstory kind of nebulous. He just sort of showed up in Hometown one day with all his whimsy and smiles in tow.

Zain is cis, but he's unlabeled - whoever he's attracted to, he's attracted to. He's also poly! Like Achilles, he struggles to make connections - though unlike Achilles, this is 100% of his own accord, and he does it on purpose. Everyone has a nickname for him, and he doesn't call anyone by their name - unless they're Achilles, of course.

Zain has a strange relationship with religion, so much so that at the start of chapter 4, he likely can be found just leaning against the outside of the Church after worship. When spoken to, he'd say "oh I'm a devil, didn't you know? Going inside burns." Susie would probably immediately be fed up with him as he grins and messes with the both of them.

He's a shapeshifter, meaning he can appear pretty much however he likes - though he tends to keep the form seen above. If you ask Achilles about Zain at some point, he'd probably go into a time where he and Zain were hanging out, and he left to go get some food, only to be startled when he came back and Asriel was sitting there. Zain then started laughing, having turned into Asriel, and Achilles just. Holds his chest after that panic attack lmao.

Zain is also something of a flirt - though that wouldn't be something the main characters experience. The idea there's a dialogue option called 'flirt' and then instead of Kris ACTUALLY flirting, it's asking if Zain really does flirt with everyone, is really funny. He'd respond that he only flirts with people over 18, and while they're almost there, he's not quite comfortable flirting with them.

In the dark world, Zain would be very cowboy-based. His weapon would be a gun, and his gimmick would be he can mimic the abilities of his teammates! So hypothetically he could use Heal Prayer OR Rude Buster if you REALLY needed him to. Z-Action would likely be some sort of shapeshifting into the enemy, or something the enemy likes. He'd also have plant-based attacks alongside his cowboy themeing!

Sorry this got so long, I uh. These two are two of my most developed OCs, and so I have a lot of in-depth thoughts about them </3

There are things I didn't go into, as it's either more complicated to explain or I didn't feel comfortable describing, but these are some basic gists of their characters and what they're about! <3

[no-vara]

Betrayed!1x4 x [Escaped!Reader] featuring Azure!

(Request is at the bottom!) Reader is gender neutral! TY FOR THE REQUEST I ADORE IT! Sorry if it took long!!

Also remember Azure can’t speak soo-

Tw: Kidnapping, abuse, wounds, yandere stuff.

You didn’t know much about Azure, only what Two Time had told you—and that wasn’t very much. You didn’t actually expect him to feel empathy for you.

1x4 exited the room you were kept in, leaving you weak and blindfolded. After you just threw a tantrum at her. Trying to move even with the ropes gnawing at your skin—causing it to bruise and even bleed. You gave up after a few moments, even with you giving up it was still uncomfortable.

Plus after what had just happened all your strength was wasted, even breathing hurt.

You heard the door creak open but you couldn’t see who it was, you just figured one of the killers were here to grab something and leave so you just stayed still. The door shut after a few seconds, you just tried remaining calm. As calm as you could be anyway….

Azure stepped in because he was curious, 1x4 was out and he had never personally seen you up close. And on the Spawn he was mortified. You were bleeding, bruised, tied, you even had stab wounds.

Stab.

Wounds.

Azure just stared, his hat kept silent wondering what he was worrying about. If 1x4 saw them (plural bc hat and Azure) here he would be furious. Azure stepped closer wanting to get a better look, he gently stepped up and ran a hand over your injuries.

You winced not expecting anyone to touch you—especially the parts where it hurt most. Azure hissed under his breath—this wasn’t right. This was worst then…

Then what happened to him. Oh the Spawn it all came flooding back in a instant.

The moment his hat realized, he tried speaking in protest but Azure ripped your blindfold off and tore off your restraints.

You blinked a couple times to adjust to the new-found light. Azure was hovering right over you—and he was huge. Holy moly. He wrapped a tentacle around his hat stopping them from alerting the other killers as he opened up a window and pointed.

You blinked and looked up and down a couple times before one slimy tentacle wrapped around you and helped you out.

He was helping you escape?! You had lost all hope of escaping…this was a miracle. A true miracle.

“Thank you….” You muttered quietly as you continued downwards without his support before landing on the grass.

You held back a laugh as you immediately ran, not looking back once. Azure closed the window and silently left the room making sure not to make a sound.

Later.

Azure had mostly forgotten about what happened, expecting you to be long gone and happy. And he was proud of himself! His hat was not, yet couldn’t snitch because if 1x4 found out they would be both dead.

“WHERE THE FUCK DID SHE GO?!” 1x4 yelled, welp. She found out.

Azure turned his head towards the sound but didn’t care, though some of the other killers seemed much more concerned.

It didn’t phase Azure because he knew he did the right thing, and now you were alive and well.

If you managed to get far that is….

—————————————————————————————————————

Idk if I did this one well sadly, I hope you enjoy!

Want me to write something that YOU can ask for? Just ask me on my page! Make sure to read the pinned rules!

Forsaken Master-Post

[romanwitchgirl]

The Reveal II

aka Althea finds out about your double life

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

j. todd x fem!reader

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, tiny bit of angst (but nothing too much)

None of the other batkids really show up here except for Damian, but this is mostly focused on Althea and reader (THERE'S JASON CONTENT AT THE END I PROMISE)

wc: 3.3k

notes: WOO SECOND FIC LET'S GO!!! as said before this focuses on more about reader and Althea, but with some Jason at the end!!! Obv, if it's not you're thing, then don't read, but this does contain some relevent info to reader's character if you want to follow the prodigal son lore. do not expect all of my fics to come out like, day in day out lmao. the first two were prewritten a while ago :)

prodigal son 'verse || masterlist

warnings: blood and injuries, scars on reader, innaccurate medical information, friend beef (but it gets resolved), swearing (a significant amount more than Reveal I), college, innaccurate phd study information, no use of y/n, imagined with domino + mask combo jason but can be read otherwise, reader's suit is discribed but pretty minorly?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

You grinned as you twirled your bo staff and stared down the criminals around you. You were surrounded, sure, but that was no problem. Your magic sat poised and ready as it hung in the air, deadly and sharp. 

You placed your hand out in a challenge. “Bring it.”

Gunfire echoed in the small alleyway as the thugs tried and failed to hit you. Your staff hit bodies with a thwack! as you continued to dismantle the lousy circle of people around you, smiling the whole way through. Studying didn’t leave much room for your nightlife, but on certain nights, you had the freedom to do what you pleased. 

“Try not to intimidate them too much, Enchantress. I think you’re scaring the poor boys,” Oracle said across the comm line. 

“Did you hack into the traffic cameras again?” you replied as you kicked low. 

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

The thugs were down much too fast for your preferred fight, but what could a girl do? You piled the guns up and placed them in a dumpster after tying up the criminals. Man, you didn’t even get to use your magic. 

You climbed the nearest fire escape onto the roof of an apartment complex, reveling in the freedom it gave away from society’s expectations. Now all you had to do was make it back home. Also known as you and Althea’s shared apartment, which you had to sneak into every time you went out. It got hard to explain the seemingly random cuts and bruises on the occasion that you got hurt, along with the rather large medkit and the sometimes bloody bandages in the trash, but you weren't going to let Althea in on your secret. Not if she could help it. The less people who knew about the connection between the Dahservauth family and Enchantress the better. 

After a good fifteen minutes of roof running and professional window sneaking, you were back in your apartment. Papers were scattered everywhere, along with piles of textbooks and printed pdfs. Finals week was soon approaching at Nightborne University, which meant an unhealthy caffeine intake and multiple all-nighters. You were going to have to ask Tim how he did it all the time, between his rather terrible sleeping schedule, caffeine addiction, and jobs split between Red Robin, detective extraordinaire, and the Wayne Enterprises CEO. 

Right now, though, even though you could probably call Tim and have him be awake, you wanted to get the kevlar suit off. Althea was out at the bar tonight with her friends in the anthropology class she took, so the apartment was gracefully empty, even at half past midnight. 

The harsh bathroom lighting did nothing to help the lines left after gently peeling off your domino mask, nor the dark circles you were sure to have tomorrow. The kevlar suit—black and silver, bodytight, and with an open skirt on top of the leggings—fell to the ground with a dull thwap as you changed into pajamas. Your specially painted combat boots were exchanged for slippers and the tight bun in your hair for it being down and loose. 

No injuries were attained tonight, which was a plus. No bloody bandages to explain to Althea tomorrow morning. All you wanted to do was sleep before the alarm woke you up in a few hours. Well, text Jason a goodnight first, but then sleep. 

)|(

You weren't so lucky on your next patrol out. Some goon had managed to graze your calf with a bullet, which had then led to the boot on your back. Not the worst you’d ever had—the rather nasty whip marks on your back you kept carefully glamored away had something to say for that—but it still hurt like a motherfucker. 

The sluggishly bleeding wound on your calf wasn’t enough to need stitches, but it did warrant a good wrap and brutal antiseptic. You wiped up the extra blood and cleaned the gash with no small amount of grunting in pain, eventually being able to control the shaking of your hands enough to wrap it tight. You didn’t think you had a broken rib, per say, but some were definitely bruised. It never hurt to be safe with rib injuries, so you wrapped those up too. 

You made your way out of the bathroom, which would be cleaned after you had gotten your post-patrol injury snack, and slightly limped your way to the kitchen. Before you could make it very far, the door to the apartment creaked open. Shit. Althea wasn’t supposed to be home until closer to midnight. You glanced at your watch and scowled in betrayal. It was midnight. 

“Anyone home?” Althea yelled through the place. 

You supposed you should have worn sweatpants and not the shorts you were currently sporting, but it was too late now. “Yeah. How was your night?”

Althea groaned and the thump of her setting stuff down followed. “Ugh, I don’t even know why I let myself be talked into being a tutor. Some of those kids are going to flunk out, with or without my help. Like, seriously, how many times do we need to go over American History? We’ve been learning it since middle school for God’s sake.”

You chuckled, immediately regretting the decision as your ribs caught. In your defence, you really tried to hold in the hiss of pain, but alas. 

Althea paused what she was doing. “You good? That didn’t sound great.”

Her footsteps got closer to the door, the other girl’s pale face and pin-straight blonde hair making their appearance in the crack in the door. You refused to back down under her icy and scrutinizing stare, the one she was known for. Really, the whole Winterguard family was known for their massive RBFs, but that’s beside the point.

“What the fuck did you do to your leg?” Althea said with a point at your calf. 

“Would you believe me if I said it was nothing you had to worry about?” you tried sheepishly.

Althea gave her the “do you really think that shit’s gonna pass” look. It was worth a shot.

You shrugged, happy facade dropping slightly. “Listen, I’m not even going to explain to you what happened. I’ll clean up the bathroom and then we can forget that it ever happened.”

“No.” Althea came up to the door, forcing it open wider. “You come home with all these injuries all the time and I never know how or when you got them! I’ve seen rather startling amounts of blood on either bandages or just in the shower, a sewing needle left out for what I presume are self done stitches, and almost seen you pass out more than once from blood loss or pain. There’s obviously a problem and I deserve to know what it is.”

You huffed and looked at the ground, thoughts rolling around in your head. The sinking feeling in her gut told you that Althea was correct, to a certain degree. If Althea snuck into the apartment with random injuries all the time, would I be worried?

Do I let you be burdened by my secret and soothe your curiosity, or do I keep it bottled up at the cost of your trust?

You rubbed a hand down your face. “Fuck, okay.” You looked up and met Althea’s eyes with newfound determination and fire. “You have to promise me a couple things. First, you won’t tell anyone what you see. I’ve kept this secret for years and I don’t intend for anyone else to find out that doesn’t already know. Second, don’t blow up at me about it too badly. My headache is only going to get worse. Third, you need to know that what I’m telling you puts your life in immediate danger.”

Althea scoffed. “We’re the kids of fucking billionares. Our lives are always a target.”

“You don’t get it.” You shook your head. “There is a world outside of petty sharpshooters and assassination attempts. Real monsters, real threats, and the very real chance of your death as soon as someone catches a whiff that you might know what I’m about to tell you.”

You led Althea to the bathroom without another word, your suit still in the tub and in need of another clean and repair. The domino mask sat on the counter, along with the mess of a first aid kit. 

“You know what, I’ll hand it to you, Dahservauth, this was not what I was expecting,” Althea said with a low whistle. 

You busied your hands with cleaning up the medical supplies and making a mental note to take the suit to Alfred to get cleaned. You didn’t trust yourself to clean it, but the Batcave had all the necessary materials to repair it. 

“So all those times you’ve come back to the apartment and been injured…” Althea drifted off.

You sucked in a breath, shallower than usual. “I was on patrol. It’s a gamble of whether I get injured and what type of scar I get from it. You never forget your first stab wound.”

Althea hummed without comment and picked up the domino mask, the thing too small for her face but trying it on without glue anyway. You hissed again as you bent down to pick up a fallen roll of bandages to put back in the kit. 

“So, what actually happened tonight?” Althea asked after putting down the domino.

“Some guy tried to fucking shoot me, then stomped on my back. Asshat bruised my ribs,” you muttered as you got back up.

“And the times before?”

You paused and met Althea’s gaze in the mirror. “You’re gonna have to specify. There’s been a lot of ‘before’.”

“I mean,” Althea started with a wave of her hands. “Your most notable injuries. Ones that even I couldn’t have missed in my attempts to think you were somewhat normal.”

“First off, rude. Never call me normal again.” You grabbed the domino to fiddle with it. “Second off, all of my most notable injuries are usually treated with help and away from the apartment. All of those surprise vacations to the Bahamas or some shit? Not a vacation. I was probably nursing a bad stab wound or something.”

“How have you lived this long as a fucking vigilante? I swear, you’re the clumsiest person I know,” Althea said with the shake of her head.

“Oh, that was for sure real. I’m a clutz all right, but I’ve trained since I was around fifteen, so holding a bo staff is pretty normal now. I’ve also got good sparring partners,” you replied. “I’ve also got the help of magic from time to time.”

Everyone had seen the news reel from a couple years ago where Enchantress had first shown her powers to the general public. It was the typical run of the mill alien invasion, at least until you had shown up. Your magic was something different. It wasn’t like Zatanna’s backwards incantations, nor was it like the many innate magic users of the Justice League. No words needed to be spoken, but you did have a handy gauntlet of runes on your arm. Runes were one of the Dahservauth family secrets, one of the many not told to the public. 

With the help of her runes, you, or rather Enchantress, had called down a bolt of lightning on an alien vessel that ended up splitting it into millions of pieces. You had made your grand debut then, a new hero of the Justice League and no longer confined to just vigilantism in your own city. The clip had easily become one of the most famous parts of your career, the only one topping that being the black hole you conjured a year or two later. Most of that was a lot of physics, along with a great deal of planning and runes. 

“Shit, how did I forget you have magic?” Althea muttered.

You thought about laughing, but stopped yourself before you hurt your ribs even more. Instead, you opted to scatter lighting between your bruised fingers as Althea watched in fascination. The lightning didn’t hurt you, but rather felt like tingles across your skin. 

“It’s quite fun, actually, to just play with my magic sometimes. I usually do it alone, but now that you know, I can zap you whenever I want!” you joked. 

“If you even think about touching me with your zappy hands I will kill you,” Althea threatened.

“Are you seriously trying to threaten a vigilante right now?”

“An injured one, yeah.”

Yeah, you were going to be fine.

)|(

You really needed to stop getting injured; it was getting annoying. A ninja had managed to slice you pretty good on the arm, thankfully your non-dominant one, but you wouldn’t be able to stitch it yourself. The gash ran from just below your elbow to your wrist, and you were losing blood fast. You really hated ninjas. 

You dialed Althea’s phone through the comms, “‘Thea, you there?”

“Damn, you sound like shit. What happened?” Althea asked.

“Ninja got me good. Do you know how to stitch a wound or do I need to give you emergency directions to the Batcave?”

Now, technically, Enchantress didn’t advertise her partnership with the Bats, but with Nightborne being close enough to Gotham to get some overlap, it wasn’t unexpected. Though you doubted Bruce would like a civilian knowing the location of the cave.

“Uh, depending on the wound, but if you sound this bad I’m presuming I can’t stitch it without majorly fucking it up. You might want to call up your friend there,” Althea said honestly. 

You breathed through your nose. “I’ll face Batman’s wrath later. I can somewhat patch myself up in the field, but I need stitches, like, pronto. Fucking ninjas. If I give you my location, can you find me?”

“Yeah, I’ve lived in this city as long as you have. I know my way around. Just don’t bleed out on the pavement too quickly for me to get there.” and Althea hung up. 

You sent your location over to Althea over a secure line before wrapping your arm as much as you could through the pain. Man, those stitches were gonna fucking suck. You patiently waited for Althea’s car to come around the corner, which thankfully didn’t take too long. Thank God for your best friend’s complete disregard for speed laws. 

You hopped in the passenger seat, trusting Oracle would do you a solid and scrub the traffic cams. Then you made the dreaded call to Batman, who was either patrolling or in the cave already. Besides, if Jason learned that Bruce had ignored one of your calls while injured, the big old Bat was in for it. 

“Enchantress,” came Batman’s gravelly answer to your comms ring.

You could feel yourself getting drowsy and the bandage on your arm soaking through as Althea drove towards Gotham City. “Batman. I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“And what would this ‘favor’ be?” he asked. 

“I had a fun little run in with a ninja over here in Nightborne. Is there a way you could set up a rendezvous to get me to the Cave to Agent A? My arm needs stitches,” you explained as passively as possible.

“Head to the southernmost alley at the police plaza; I’ll have the Batmobile waiting and on autopilot for you. Do you need me to call Red Hood?” Bruce offered.

“Uh, I’ll handle that part, but thanks. I should stay lucid enough to call him. If not, tell him to meet up at the Cave. He knows what it means if I’m at the Cave on a school night.”

“Hn. Do you need me to send anyone with the Batmobile for immediate medical?”

You risked a glance down at the bandage, then the distance to Gotham. Blood had started to soak through again, but it seemed to be slowing. Gotham was only three or so minutes out.

“I shouldn’t need it. I’m less than five minutes away.”

“I’ll send Robin anyway. Batman out.”

And that was the end of that conversation. Althea’s speedometer was already much higher than it needed to be, but the cops out here didn’t care much for high speed chases. You, with slightly slower fingers, synced the Batmobile’s location to Althea’s GPS. Robin’s tracker blipped on the screen for a few moments before settling above the supertech car. You presumed Damian was on a roof somewhere and ready to give you an earful about ninja attacks. 

“You still good?” Althea asked from the driver’s seat.

You gathered your thoughts; man, that wasn’t good. Blood loss sucked. 

“Sure, we’ll call it that.” A pause. “Just a small note: try not to get ambushed by a ninja. They’ve got some wicked moves.”

Althea pulled up to the Batmobile and you heard the distinct sound of a grapple gun launching and becoming louder. Speaking of ninjas.

You opened the passenger side door, you were greeted with a very disappointed Robin. For a moment, you were taken aback; you had forgotten about the darker changes to the suit, but found that you didn’t mind them. Grey looked good on Damian. It also made him look less like a toddler playing dress up. 

“You may leave us, civilian. I can take Enchantress to the Batcave from here,” Damian said stiffly, an air of superiority around the younger teen. 

Althea, for once in her life, nodded and didn’t say anything. “Don’t be stupid, Enchantress. I expect you to call.” And she sped off again, back towards Nightborne.

)|(

It wasn’t five minutes after you got to the Cave that Jason arrived. Blood had gotten on his leather jacket, his knuckles freshly bruised. Whoops. Damian had left to go back out on patrol after a call from Bruce while you had your arm stitched back up and hooked up to a blood bag. Alfred had given you strict instructions to try to not fall asleep (read: pass out), but you were finding that really difficult as the adrenaline wore off. 

Alfred didn’t look up from where he was stitching. “Master Jason, I was expecting to see you tonight. Do I want to know how far above the speed limit you were?”

Jason, in all of his righteous fury walking in, was suddenly reduced to a sheepish young adult for a few moments. “Uh, no. Definitely not.” He turned his attention on you, eyes going impossibly soft. “So, I heard you got a bit fucked up by a ninja. How do you feel?”

You huffed a laugh, trying not to move too much. “Tired, really. But I know I can’t fall asleep yet. I’m just glad Damian didn’t lecture me on more ninja evasion tactics. I would have clawed my eyes out.”

Jason pulled a chair up next to where you were sitting, gently grasping your hand in his. It was sweet, especially when Jason pressed a kiss to your temple. He slowly peeled off your domino, which in your haste to not bleed out, had been forgotten. Jason’s own mask and domino had been off for a while, the red material leaving a small red mark over the bridge of his nose and upper cheekbones. 

Alfred finished patching you up pretty quick, much to your relief. His only instructions were to not pull on the stitches and get some rest before going out in the field again. You slipped off into sleep pretty soon after that, your head on Jason’s shoulder, hand-in-hand. 

)|(

When Jason dropped you off in the afternoon, Althea didn’t question it much. But you saw the silent curiosity for what it was as Althea’s head started to churn together possible solutions. 

She only gave you a second before smirking. “Well, at least your man can fight.”

You didn’t pretend to read into that statement too much, instead just laughing it off. “Whatever you say.”

fin.

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if i missed any tags let me know!! thank you sooo much for reading!

copyright of romanwitchgirl on tumblr-DO NOT REPOST TO ANOTHER SITE

[olderthannetfic]

I think I was just not paying that much attention because that simple fact should have been infinitely suspicious to me, yes.

I wasn't surprised at all that there were some false accusations. All those The Thing That Happened Ten Years Ago plots involve unraveling the actual truth of Back Then, so that's par for the course. I just remember being surprised that the accusation was something different from the most obvious thing. For one thing, it means DFS himself couldn't know absolutely for sure what happened either.

And now, Episode 2 thoughts:

LOL. I forgot he makes ancient fantasy Chinese viagra... or says he does anyway.

Still such a dick and also a ham.

Think of the children, FDB!

I do think it's interesting that LLH just tells FDB how he cured those two "dead" people when FDB asks. I presume he's actually telling the truth for once here. Is he trying to win FDB over? Does it just not matter? Or was it for this:

"Luck is a kind of strength"

This bullshit artist! There's no way he thinks of himself as all that lucky.

The breath-stopping skill is interesting. Why only three days? I mean, clearly, because it's convenient for the plot, but are there other techniques like this that last longer?

Once again, they instantly know the look of some random technique used by some random famous martial artist. Yes, he's from the Jinyuan Alliance, but still! Doesn't anybody in this world ever learn a copycat technique specifically because of this nonsense?

Ah, there's the smug self confidence back again. And also some cleverly-disguised infodumping that his family makes gadgets.

This instance is fake, but does the setting have genuine full-body sariras? Or other types? Exactly how woo is the martial arts woo here?

:D

Aww, his angry little face! No wonder LLH loves messing with him so much.

Poor Happy, though. I really thought he was going to stick around and matter.

We get some details about Medicine Demon's experiments in this episode. Was he testing poisons on innocent randos? Traitors? Unclear, but the setup is so very Evil Organization of Evil and the parts where we actually see Medicine Demon are so... not that.

Who? Who says this? Seriously. I thought LXY's reputation was as a perfect, saintly hero.

Pretty sure the Director would not actually thank you for that, my dude.

Are there actually recipes in that book?

LLH's story about paying to get the Shi manual back is clearly bullshit. Emptying Hands is the one who cared about that. But is the story about being helped in the past true?

Ah, the first of many digs at LLH's cooking skills. Is it that LLH's senses are failing? Is it that FDB is the pickiest gourmet ever?

Ah, there it is: the obsession of every Chinese chef.

HOW?!

This man played you for a sucker, humiliated you in private and in public, drugged and ditched you, then left you to do a lot of the actual work while wiping the floor with you intellectually. Also, he's a bad cook.

FDB... I have questions about your predilections!

You know, I'm not sure FDB has figured that out yet at this point in the narrative, but LLH sure should have. >:D

Wow, I had forgotten his whiny, flirty little voice in this scene! I had also forgotten that the big "My master, Li Xianyi" speech was in episode 2. So much happens at the beginning!

For MLC's second anniversary, iQiyi has it up for free for a while. Anyone want to join me as I rewatch and take notes for future fic? (iQiyi, Youtube)

I wish I could stream it for people, but between my horrible internet and a toddler, it is not to be, so instead, I'm doing it the timezone-friendly way.

More thoughts on episodes 1-4 when I finish rescuing that pile of books from small, grubby hands and actually sit down to watch.

[averlym]

litany of the martyrs (click for better resolution!)

[demodraws0606]