#The block button is a dear friend to me

[neixins]

mutuals i am BEGGING all of u to get into akayona i can’t take this anymore

[lightsoutletsgo]

love letters; dear... — cl.16 (part 1/2)

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: angst, descriptions of breakups and heavy emotions, bad screenshots??

love letters; with love from... (part 2)

2024

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You sighed, throwing your phone down and leaning back into the couch. Who knew a public breakup could be so exhausting? You scoffed as your phone lit up once more, his name appearing at the top of the screen as the big ‘decline call’ button grew ever more appealing. “Y/N?” The voice of your manager grabbed your attention and your head whipped to look at her as she stood in the doorway of your home studio, “I thought I told you to block his number?” A tight smile pulled at your lips, “I guess it’s harder than I thought?” She sighed, crossing the room to take a seat next to you, “Honey… You don’t want or need anyone like that in your life. You don’t need him… or her…” Your heart clenched, her words striking a chord with you. Finding out at a public dinner that your boyfriend was leaving you for your best friend after he’d been seeing her and sleeping with her behind your back for a year was not the most fun experience. Your manager placed her hand over the top of yours and squeezed gently, “You know you’re allowed to cry about it right?” You gave her a pointed look, “Crying about it won’t help me write songs will it?” She stared back at you, one eyebrow arching upwards as if she wasn’t impressed with what she was hearing, “You are kidding right?” “No?” “Jesus kid…” She sighed, “You’re not a machine… you gotta let yourself be sad… Let the songs come when they come… You’re only hurting yourself more…” 

You looked away from her, eyes casting a glance downwards to your lap as tears filled your vision but you hastily blinked them away. You thought for a moment and your voice was quiet when you replied, “I’m scared that if I start crying, I won’t ever stop.” She inhaled deeply and you didn’t dare look at her, “I think that’s understandable, you’re going through what’s essentially two break-ups right now.” You gave a forced breathy laugh, “Lucky me!” She squeezed your hand once more before standing up, “I’m going to tell the studio guys that you’re not available today. You’re not to be disturbed all day.” Your head shot up to look at her, “Wait. What?” Her face was serious as she looked as you, “Today, you just feel.” You nodded slowly, she wasn’t giving you a choice, “Besides, you write your best songs when you feel deeply…” With one hand on the door she turned back to you, “I’m only a call away if you need me!”  You nodded gratefully and with that she was closing the door quietly behind her and you were alone with your thoughts again. 

Picking up your phone once more, you deleted all texts and voicemails from both her and him. You turned your notifications off and went to spotify. If you were going to cry, the least you could do was give yourself a good soundtrack. Scrolling through playlist after playlist, nothing seemed quite right. All the breakup playlists you clicked on were either your own songs or angry songs, and you weren’t quite at that stage yet. With a sigh you changed your search to ‘sad hours’. Spotting a playlist with an aesthetic looking angsty cover, you noticed that all the songs added were instrumental. That was more like it. You pressed play and inhaled, turning the music up and allowing it to wash over you, allowing yourself to be carried by the flow, the dynamics, the melodies and harmonies. You let it tug at your heartstrings, let it act as a soundtrack to the memories that flashed in your head and yet, the tears still did not fall. 

Almost crying with frustration, you moved from the couch to the floor, sinking down and resting your head back on the couch. The song changed and suddenly it was like a switch had been flipped. The tears came thick and fast as finally, finally, you allowed yourself to break. Huge sobs wracked your body as the music rose in a crescendo, thoughts of him filling your head; how he’d held your hand, the way he’d kissed you, the way he said your name, how he stared at you. With each thought you cried harder, mourning for the relationship you’d lost and the parts of yourself that had gone missing with it. As the strings took over the melody, it was like your thoughts moved from him to her. Your chest felt heavy and tight as you struggled to breathe. Was this what heartbreak felt like? Your chest felt like it was cracking, vision completely blurred by the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. Wasn’t crying supposed to make you feel better? Then why did you feel like you’d never stop? Why did you feel so much pain? As the song came to climax and the last notes resonated and hung in the air you couldn’t help the way you hit replay. 

The song washed over you again and again like a comforting touch. It was a gentle soothing balm for your aching heart. As the song repeated, the tears gradually subsided and eventually the exhaustion took over. Not even bothering to move, you stayed on the floor, laying your head down and letting sleep take you under, at least there you wouldn’t feel that all consuming pain in your chest. 

When you woke up, it felt like something was sitting on your chest. You winced as you opened your eyes, feeling how sore they were from crying and you dreaded to think how bloodshot they looked. Slowly pushing yourself to sit up, you grabbed your head and hissed as it throbbed and ached. You picked up your phone to look at the time. You’d been asleep for an hour. You noticed your phone hadn’t stopped playing that track the entire time. Growing curious about the piece of music and the composer responsible for helping with your emotional release you opened your phone, heading straight to their spotify profile. 

‘Charles Leclerc’ Interesting name. You scrolled past the few small recordings that he had released and went straight to his bio. You’d never heard of this guy before but you’d never been touched by music that way before. Scan-reading his bio you noted that it wasn’t even his main profession. Unable to help yourself, you began googling. You learned he was Monegasque and that he was a Formula One driver, that he drove for Ferrari and that he’d had his own fair share of heartbreak and grief. You thought it was sweet that he’d explored music later on in life and you were impressed with the way he played with form and structure of his pieces. Throughout the week, you found yourself coming back to his music again and again whenever you needed comfort or needed to cry. It was cathartic the effect it had on you. And you found that as you listened to his music and the more time you spent sitting with yourself, the easier the songs came to you. 

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You weren’t sure how, when or why the thought had first occurred to you, but as you sat in your home studio, months after that initial breakdown, you had the sudden urge to contact Charles. He had no clue who you were, well at least not personally, but he had helped you through one of the worst periods of your life and you knew you wouldn’t have been able to finish the album without him, even if he wasn’t aware of the impact he’d had on you. Psyching yourself up with a deep breath you grabbed your phone and opened instagram. You searched for his account, finding him easily. Your finger hovered over the follow button but you shook your head and decided against it, you didn’t need to add fuel to the fire. Besides, you hadn’t even spoken to him yet. You sent him a DM request and hoped for the best. 

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y/nsworld

Liked by charles_leclerc, sabrinacarpenter and 22,982,703 y/nsworld surprise !! "words I wish I had said" is now available on streaming platforms worldwide! this album has been a journey of heartbreak, self-discovery and healing. I've spent months in the studio, both with friends and alone, pouring my heart and soul into each song and I hope you can all feel it. while this album focuses on heartbreak, there are also some songs that are very close to my heart that have been in the vault for a little while now. I know that for some people they will resonate deeply and I hope they bring comfort. I see you and I love you 🤍 thank you to my management for being supportive as ever, my fans for being beyond patient while waiting for new music and my friends for holding; my hands, many boxes of tissues, my drinks on drunken nights out to forget him and most importantly the pieces of my heart while I got ready glue them back together - I am eternally grateful to each and every one of you, now and always. "you'll be okay" all my love, Y/N 🎀

(also thanks to my ex-bf and ex-bsf for providing me with inspiration, without you this album wouldn't exist xoxo)

View all 45,730 comments sabrinacarpenter I cannot even begin to say how proud I am Comment liked by y/nsworld ⤷ y/nsworld I love you so much 🤍

zendaya you've done it again babe! beautiful soul, beautiful album Comment liked by y/nsworld ⤷ y/sworld thank you for all the late night calls to help me through it 🫶🏼

y/nloverrrr WTF?! SHE JUST DROPPED AN ALBUM LIKE THAT? 🧍‍♀️ ⤷ y/nmusic I CAN'T DECIDE IF I LOVE HER OR HATE HER FOR IT 😭

ferrarifannn okay but "best friend breakup" i just know this one is gonna HURT ⤷ f1fann her vocals in the chorus? "always thought that it'd be love, that was gonna mess me up" ⤷ y/nicon "didn't think it'd hurt this much, when best friends break up"

charles_leclerc you're top of all my playlists 🤪 Comment liked by y/nsworld ⤷ y/nsworld I would hope so 🤭 ⤷ lalaleclerc I- sir? what are you doing here? 😭 ⤷ y/nf1fan EXCUSE ME? WTF? ⤷ y/nmusic since when did they know each other?

musiclover THE CAPTION PLS TELL ME Y'ALL SEE WHAT I'M SEEING AT THE BOTTOM 😭 ⤷ leclerclove she's fucking iconic 🥹 the "xoxo" had me-

y/n.updates CAN WE TAKE A MINUTE FOR "FEEL GOOD"? THAT SONG FUCKING BROKE ME 😭 ⤷ y/nismylove "I'm sorry I'm still not at home in body, I just wanted someone to want me. who sees me as more than just funny" ⤷ charlesandcarlos I fucking SOBBED the whole way through ⤷ yn/wardrobe it breaks my heart that she feels like this but at the same time she's written my comfort song as a result 😭🥺

lewishamilton you never miss! forever proud of you 💜 Comment liked by y/nsworld ⤷ y/nsworld thank you lew! miss you 🥺🫶🏼 ⤷ lewishamilton just let me know the time and place and I'll be there ⤷ y/nsworld I'm texting you rn! ⤷ f1fannn wait hUH? ⤷ lewisfann I'm so confused 😭 how do they know each other? ⤷ y/nmusic lewis collaborated on one of her earlier albums with the name xnda! they've been super close ever since

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[umnitsa]

Dark Room

Summary: There's a dark room somewhere in the QZ, where people desperate for some human contact meet each other for some anonymous sex. The Miller Brothers decide to enjoy it, to your pleasure.

A/N: This is just porn. Absolute, shameless porn, I hope you enjoy it. Well, I enjoyed writing this so much I'll probably write more parts. <3 Banner from @cafekitsune

Written with unholy eagerness and no proofreading!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader x Tommy Miller

CW: Sex, piv, anal fingering, no condoms (this is a loving fantasy and I didn't want to write them, but hey, please do not do that!)

“I can’t believe I’m letting ya drag me into this.” Joel muttered under his breath, his hands on his pockets.

“It’s a good way to blow up steam, and I know you feel weird about paying for sex.” Tommy shrugged, bumping his shoulder against Joel. “It’s a dark room. People go in and fuck in the dark, that’s it. I prefer that to glory holes, it’s less awkward.”

“I can’t believe ya…”

“Don’t be a prude.” Tommy interrupted, chuckling. “We’re healthy men in the fucking apocalypse. There are girls inside there, and they want sex as much as I do, why shouldn’t I take advantage of the situation? Give them what they want, and have my fill?”

Joel shook his head, chuckling low. Tommy was right, it wasn’t a bad idea. No fuss, no mess, no names. Just an encounter in the dark, and some relief between adults. Joel found himself hoping to at least get a good blowjob from this.

Tommy guided him through the dark streets, and into a building.

The hidden speakeasy had low lights, a soft music coming from a corridor, blocked by a dark fabric. Tommy greeted the bartender, exchanged a few words.

“It’s in there.” Tommy pointed at the fabric. “My friend told me it’s slow today, but there should be someone inside.”

Joel nodded, awkwardly. Tommy placed a glass of some indistinctive alcohol, and Joel downed it quickly. He wanted this to be over.

“What if I don’t want it?” Joel asked, shifting on his feet.

“Just step away and leave the room.” Tommy said, matter of fact, placing a second glass in front of Joel. “Wait me here.”

“Ya so sure ya’ll get some.” Joel chuckled, drinking the second shot, shaking his head.

“I’m just not afraid of admittin’ I’m horny, desperate and I just can’t stand my dear hand anymore.” Tommy shrugged, drinking from his glass. “C’mon.”

The sudden shift of luminosity blinded Joel for a second, making him blink and grab Tommy’s arm. As he adjusted to the darkness, he realized the room wasn’t that big, long benches against two walls. The music was a bit louder inside the room, just enough to discourage conversation. The slick sounds of a blowjob came from somewhere to the left of Tommy, making Joel suddenly interested in the proceedings. Tommy moved straight to the shadow standing alone in the corner, Joel in tow.

You smiled, as they entered; the flash of light as their entered giving you a glimpse of their faces. Your friend caught the first person that came in, with your blessings. You didn’t feel anything when he came in, but now, those two? You want them.

You felt a hand on your hip, and the first one leaned, until his lips were over your ear.

“I’m Tommy, this is Joel.” His voice was soft, gentle. You shivered, as he brushed his lips against your ear. “Just so you know what to scream.” Tommy’s hand slid down your arm, holding your hand gently. He placed your hand on his chest, the flannel soft under your fingertips. He dragged your hand down, until your fingers hooked on his pants.

Joel shifted, awkwardly; you extended your hand in the dark, landing your palm on a large, bulky chest. You moved your fingers, sneaking them between the buttons, just to find an undershirt.

You grabbed their shirts, tugging on them until the men were side by side, twin shadows standing over you. Kneeling, you nuzzled Tommy’s legs, as he opened his pants, fast. Your mouth descended on him, one hand on his thigh.

Tommy’s fingers combed your hair, gently, until he cupped the back of your head. He stayed still, scratching your scalp as you started to suck. You were able to hear his moan under the music, as your tongue slid around the head.

“So good.” Tommy shuddered, grabbing Joel’s shoulder, his knees suddenly weak from your suckling.

Your hand slid over Joel’s thigh in the darkness; he tensed, as you rubbed higher, along his cock, feeling it harden fast under your hand.

The music was loud, but not too loud; the slurping sounds of your eager mouth were audible, if they focused enough. Your free hand insistently rubbed Joel through his pants, your fingertips tracing the head resting on his hip. You grabbed him tightly and moaned, which made Tommy grab your hair and thrust slightly forward.

“Jesus, woman.” Joel muttered under his breath, opening his pants quickly. He wrapped your fingers around his thick cock, squeezing over your hand with his massive one. “Goddamn.”

Tommy chuckled, and pulled from your mouth. He leaned and patted your cheek ever so gently, holding one of your wrists with one hand.

“Go on, babe, give my brother here a little sugar.” He wrapped your fingers around his cock and thrusted gently, your saliva serving as lube.

Joel bucked into your mouth the moment he felt your tongue against his cock.

“Fuck.” Joel exhaled as you moved your lips and tongue around the head, suckling. His big hand cradled your face, his fingertips caressing under your jaw.

You moaned, his hips jolted forward.

Tommy released your hand and crouched beside you.

“Ass up, babe. I wanna taste you. Keep your mouth on him.” His soft voice echoed close to your ear. You whimpered softly, unfolding your legs and trying to stand up. Tommy tugged on your skirt, making a happy sound when he realized you were not wearing panties.

Joel’s hands moved, keeping you steady as you stood up, your lips around his cock. You grabbed his hips; he leaned, cupping one of your breasts, as he cupped the back of your head.

Tommy pushed his face against your pussy, from behind. He grunted softly as he felt your wetness against his face, nuzzling until his lips brushed against your clit.

He mumbled softly, his lips brushing against your folds; you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter, gushing against Tommy’s lips. Joel tugged on your hair, turning your face up. Joel kissed you, intensely, slowly, his hands sliding against you, bringing your hands to hold his cock, while Tommy pressed his face into you, suckling on your clit eagerly.

Tommy’s thick fingers slid into you, making you moan against Joel’s mouth. The fingers, wet, moved to rub circles over your asshole. His fingers pushed into your ass, you could feel Tommy spitting into your hole, two fingers gently splitting you open. You whined, Tommy’s thumb sliding over your clit.

Joel moved to speak into your ear, his soft beard scratching against your cheek. You whimpered softly against his cheek, close to his left ear.

“Tell me, what is he doin’?” Joel asked, nibbling on your ear, both your hands on Joel’s cock.

“His fingers…” You whined, tightening your fingers around Joel’s cock. “He’s fingerfucking my ass.”

“…and you’re enjoyin’ yourself. Dirty little thing.” Joel kissed your cheek, then slid his lips over yours. “Do ya wanna take us both at the same time?”

You whined, Joel’s low voice vibrating through you. Tommy sensed your spasming and suckled on your clit, pulling your orgasm from you, making your whole body shake.

“Shhh, babe.” Tommy muttered against your cunt, feeling your strength melt from your body, your legs weakening, fast. “Look at that.” Tommy pushed his tongue against your pussy, moaning as your muscles spasmed, in the last waves of your orgasm. “She’s gonna need to sit, Joel.”

Joel chuckles, low, hugging your body against his, giving you support as Tommy stands up. For a moment, the three of you stand still considering the next step. You heard Joel’s breathing deeply, his arms around you.

You guided them both to the bench, unwilling to let go just yet. Tommy grunted, as he bumped his knee. You giggled, placing his hand on your hip, so he could feel you bending forward, one knee on the bench. You pushed Joel to sit in front of you, balancing yourself on your forearms, crawling over him, until you felt his cock, warm and moist, against your cheek.

With one swift movement, you sucked him into your mouth, as far as you can, pushing your hips high, against Tommy’s hands. He quickly understood your silent begging, the head of his cock notching into your hole. He pushed in slowly, grabbing your hips, squeezing your flesh, a string of curses coming from his lips. You whimpered, pushing back, as he picked up speed. His fingertips teased your asshole.

“Wish I had some lube, so I could fuck your slutty ass.” Tommy whispered in your ear, making you squeeze him. “Fuck, you’re dirty, babe. I wanna come down your throat.”

You nod, pulling Joel from your mouth and kissing him gently before standing. Joel’s hands caressed your body as you turned your back to him, pushing Tommy to sit.

You felt Joel’s fingers sliding between your folds, slowly, exploring. You felt like he was mapping you with his fingers, and it made you shiver, eyes rolling back. Tommy held your head and thrusted forward, his cock almost too much; it felt as if he was teasing your gag reflex. It felt surprisingly good, you could only whine. Tommy’s cock spasmed between your lips, his hips thrusting unevenly. He was close.

Joel rubbed lazy circles over your clit; your legs were so tense you trembled under his touch. Tommy tugged on your hair, trying to signal he was going to come, giving you space if you wanted to pull back. You were so lost in lust you just wanted to drink him; so you sucked. He spilled into your mouth, with a shuddering moan that vibrated through his body.

“Fuck.” Tommy muttered, breathless, sitting in front of you. He adjusted himself into his pants, quickly, then touched your hands, caressing up your arms, until his hands were back on your hair. He leaned, so you could hear him. “Good girl… So good to me.”

You nuzzled him, moaning softly, until you felt Joel’s arm wrapping around your waist, propping you up. You felt his cock lining up, then pushing steadily into you. Tommy licked your neck, his fingers on your nipples.

“Not gonna last, honey… ‘m sorry.” Joel growled, deep hard thrusts slamming his hips against your ass. He thrusted just right, hammering that spot that made you explode. You felt an exquisite agony, and then fire shot through your body, splashing against his thighs, drenching his jeans. “Jesus, woman…” Joel repeated himself, in awe, then pushed himself from you, his cock pulsing, come falling on the floor between his feet.

You crashed into Tommy, your legs weak. He chuckled, adjusting your skirt, then hugged you tight against his chest. You closed your eyes, sighing.

“Thank you, babe.” Tommy said, against your forehead, caressing your body. His big, large hands rubbed and squeezed, heavy and soothing. “Haven’t felt this good in a while.”

“We should keep her.” Joel said, just loudly enough to be heard, after he sat beside Tommy, his hands caressing your ankles.

“See? He likes you and he doesn’t like anybody.” Tommy chuckled in your ear, as Joel’s hands rubbed and squeezed your legs, massaging you.

“I don’t know.” Reality came crashing over you. Just strangers in a dark room, who shared a moment of anonymous pleasure. Even if they introduced themselves.

“Imagine what we can do with some more time, some privacy and more comfort.” Tommy tempted you, his voice sweet. He kissed your lips, holding your chin, a lazy, sensual, slow kiss.

“I will.” You started to stand up, trying to distance yourself from the attraction you already felt for them both; good orgasms tended to do that to people, and you just had a couple of great ones. Of course you wanted more. You wanted to see them, and hear them clearly. But you couldn’t deal with the complications. You just wanted the relief.

Joel seemed to be accustomed to the dark; he stood up with you, his hands moving up your body, until he wrapped his arm around your waist. He kissed you too, deeply, his dominance making you whimper.

“Can we meet here again?” Joel asked directly, his grave voice making you tremble. “I would come back for you. We would.”

“Same day next week.” You said into his ear, unsure if you are even going to come back. Something deep inside you wanted the chance to find them again, though, and you just couldn’t help yourself.

“Lookin’ forward to it.” Joel kissed your neck and released you. You could see your friend was still busy, so you just ran out of the room, towards the bathroom, to wait for her.

Part of you hoped they were too disoriented with afterglow to see you through the flash of light as you pulled the fabric, deep down, you wanted them to find you somehow.

You decided it would be worse if you waited in the bathroom, you could find a dark corner. Your paranoia was spoiling your afterglow and you really deserved some pleasure in this fucked up life.

You cleaned yourself quickly, going back to the bar. You were lucky to get the perfect table. Your curiosity kept your eyes at the entrance of the dark room, in hopes they hadn’t already left. You couldn’t deny your curiosity.

It didn’t take long for them to emerge together. Joel was the bearded one, older, rugged. He had an impressive profile and a perpetual scowl, that made his lips look pouty. His hair, salt and pepper, sticked everywhere. Tommy was younger, his hair darker, slicked back. He looked like an angel, brown, expressive eyes and thick lips. They really looked like brothers.

Both gorgeous.

You felt an irresistible pull towards them, consequences be damned.

They moved slowly, wide steps, relaxed only in the way someone well fucked can look.

You knew right there you would come back for them.

[multifandomfanficss]

It’s About Time

Ed Nygma/The Riddler x Reader

Prompt: Ed offers to help you with time management when you tell him you’re stressed at work. Your conversation is interrupted by an attack on the GCPD by the Maniax.

Warnings: Mentions of murder, cannibalism, r*pists, abuse, and general graphic violence. Gotham typical violence. Mental health struggles. Sensory issues and meltdowns common with autism. Panic. Near death experiences. Claustrophobia. References to being buried alive. Nightmares.

A/N: I’m rewatching Gotham and I didn’t realize the missed potential for hurt/comfort the first time I watched this show 7 years ago. My work load has been really heavy lately, but this show broke me out of my writers block and I made time for the writing bug. This takes place in the middle of Ed’s Riddler arc. He hasn’t fully become the Riddler yet, but he has already made his first kill. The reader has qualities of an autistic person, but is not explicitly said to be autistic. I accidentally code a lot of my characters to be autistic because I am, but this was more intentional to reflect Ed’s autistic coding. Feel free to read into it or not! You don’t have to be autistic to read and hopefully enjoy this! Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

“I’ve been so stressed lately.” You sigh. “It’s like I can’t get anything done that I actually need to get done.” You stand in the hallway of the precinct talking to your friend Ed. You were stressing about this case and Jim Gordon was making you go through hundreds of old files for him. You were never part of the real action, but the horrifying crime scene photos and evidence you had to pull through everyday was taking a toll on you. Gordon’s time crunches never helped either. You understood that lives were often on the line, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“What can some people never get enough of and others say is too much? What has the ability to fly when having fun or is stuck completely frozen when you need it to move?” He smiles. You stare at him blankly. You had not been getting enough sleep. You loved hearing his riddles, but you were never the best at giving him the answers. It was so hard for your mind to keep track of it all. “Do you give up?” He asks.

“My brain just isn’t braining right now.” You laugh. “What’s the answer?”

“Time.” He beams, happy with himself. “You should try to implement a better time management plan. You look tired all the time. It’s like you’re not even sleeping.”

“Thanks, Ed.” You give a dry laugh.

“You know what I mean.” You nod in an agreement with him. “You might be the only person who usually knows what I mean.” He says, fiddling with his fingers and the buttons on his coat.

He was right. Nobody quite seemed to get him, but nobody quite seemed to get you either. You had always felt this odd draw to him that you could never quite explain. Truthfully you think you have feelings for him, but you always bury them. He saw you as a friend and he really needed a friend. Besides he had been pinning over Kristen since before you even got to the precinct. You had mixed feelings towards her. On one hand you felt bad for her. She was always getting mixed up with shitty boyfriends who treated her poorly, but on the other hand she had a mean streak. You never liked how she treated Ed. It was like he wasn’t a person with feelings to her and that made you so angry.

“You’re right. I haven’t been sleeping.” You tell him.

“Why is that?” He asks.

“We live in Gotham. With the terrifying shit we see everyday, I don’t know how anyone sleeps.”

“Are you having nightmares again?” He asks, his face painted with concern.

“It’s fine. It’s just work stress. It’s just this case. I’m fine.” You smile. It wasn’t a real smile. Your smiles always came so naturally around Ed that he knew something was off. He was about to press when you heard gunshots coming from down the hall. Your body immediately froze like a dear in headlights in the middle of the hallway.

You’ve had violent people in the precinct before and it always made you nervous, but this was different. The Maniax were on the loose and you knew they were too unhinged to care about survivors or bargains. With Jerome Valeska at the helm, along side cannibals, rapists, and murderers you were terrified. They’d escaped from Arkham days ago and already managed to murder dozens of people. This was far too close to the action for you, as you heard Jerome’s laugh bellowing down the hall from the bullpen; a laugh you remembered from one of your early cases at the precinct. You had felt bad for him and tried to help him when his mother died. You will never forget the laugh he let out when Jim realized he wasn’t as innocent as you’d thought. It ran a chill through your spine.

Everything started moving too fast when you realized you were being pulled down the hall quickly. Once you realized you were holding hands, you tightly grasped Ed’s hand, not wanting to be separated from him. He brings you further down the hall into the ME’s lab.

“W-where are we going?” You stutter. It’s like your mouth can’t keep up with your racing mind.

“Do you trust me?” He looks at you trying to stay calm.

“Ed, what are you doing?” You’re panicking. He can tell. It’s not hard to tell, as your hands fidget and your breathing is heavy. You’re trying to stay calm.

“(Y/N), I need you to trust me.” He places his hands on your shoulders in an effort to ground you with the pressure. You close your eyes and nod, hesitantly. You do trust him.

Ed runs to the cold lockers and opens one, checking to see if it’s empty. He finds a dead body inside. You cringe. Seeing bodies is rare for you and you’re still getting used to it.

“Oh dear… okay… second times the charm…” He mumbles to himself trying to find an empty locker. “Bingo!” He smiles, finding an empty one. The wheels start to turn in your head.

“No! I’m not getting in there!” Your panic increases. Ed shushes you.

“This is our best chance. I promise I’ll let you out as soon as I can.”

“We won’t be together?” Your eyes start to burn. You try to keep back tears. You’re shaking.

“We won’t both fit in the same one. I’m gonna go in the one above you-“

“No no please I- I don’t wanna be by myself! Please don’t leave me!” You cut him off and beg him. Ed awkwardly rubs his thumbs across your shoulders where he places his hands again, still trying to ground you. It’s awkward, but it’s still somewhat calming.

“I’m not leaving you. I would never leave you. I’ll be right next to you the whole time. I promise. I need you to trust me.” You’re not sure if it’s because it’s life or death, or if it’s because it’s Ed, but you reluctantly let him help your shaking body into the mortuary cabinet. When it comes time to let go of his hand and close the cabinet, you don’t want to. Despite quickly running out of time, he knows he needs to be patient. He knows how hard this is for you. He’s always known you’re a bit claustrophobic. He had no idea one of your worst fears was being buried alive. Being stuck in a cold locker wasn’t too far from either of those things. He can hear footsteps far down the hall. The Maniax were never subtle. He kisses the hand he’s holding quickly before closing your locker and climbing into his own. You were surprised by the kiss, but you couldn’t think about that right now and what it could have meant. Your mind couldn’t keep up. He had to leave his own locker unlocked, unable to properly close it from the inside, but he locked yours to make it look more convincing.

When Ed heard you cry, he began to whisper, hoping he could be loud enough for you to hear, but quiet enough for the Maniax to not notice. “It’s okay, (Y/N). I’m still here.” It was enough to quiet your sobs. Tears silently streamed down your cheeks. Ed’s voice had a certain gentleness to it when he spoke to you. He was being especially gentle now. You had seen him angry, upset, anxious, energetic, but his calm voice was reserved for you. Even in this moment when he was admittedly not very calm, he was trying his best to mask his own fears to keep you safe.

You always reserved parts of yourself for each other; parts of yourselves that the other person enabled you to be. You were never as bold as you wanted to be, but when people were rude to Ed you stuck up for him. He brought out a more confident version of you. For Ed, he knew you struggled with staying calm when you were stressed, upset, anxious or scared, even when you were happy. All of your emotions were so big and you rarely knew how to contain them. He tried to stay calm because he knew you saw him as a calming person in your life. He liked being your hero when everyone else only saw him as a weak, odd, nuisance. He also liked that he could read you and that you were honest with him. He trusted you and it helped keep the voice in his head at bay. He didn’t have to question himself with you. He didn’t have to take advice from the voice in his head.

You tried to keep your meltdown as quiet as possible when you heard footsteps approach. They were heavy, not ones you recognized. You knew it had to be one of the Maniax, probably the cannibal. You tried to make your breath as quiet as possible. After what you assume was a poor sweep of the room, the man leaves.

After what seems like hours of being trapped in a corpse you finally hear sirens and then chatter. You hear Ed climb out of the locker above you. He opens your locker and you let out an audible sob.

“I think they’ve gone.” He says, pulling out the drawer to let your body get some much needed air. You start gasping and sobbing, shaking on the drawer of the mortuary cabinet. Your body jolts up. You just want to get away from the locker.

“You’re okay! You’re okay!” Ed catches your body, as your start to fall from the drawer to the floor. You sit on the floor and cling to him, sobbing. At first awkward, he runs his hand along your back, trying to sooth you with the repetitive motion.

“I felt like I was dead- like- like I was gonna get buried alive-“ You gasp for air, sobbing between your words. Ed shushes you.

“We’re okay. They’re gone.” He promises.

You hear fast approaching footsteps. Your brain is moving too fast to decide if the footsteps are familiar or not. You just bury yourself further into Ed’s chest.

“Detective Gordon is here.” He informs you and you relax only slightly.

“Nygma, are they okay?” Jim asks.

“No mortal wounds, they’re just a bit shaken up.” He lets him know.

“You two should probably still get checked out. I need to finish scanning the building for everyone else. So far we’ve got 9 cops dead in the bullpen and… and the commissioner is dead.” He says. It’s almost like you hear Jim, but you don’t. Your mind can’t keep up with anything that’s happening.

After a while you find yourself sitting, waiting for Lee to check you out. Ed had been pulled away for a few minutes to do his job. He didn’t want to leave you, but you assured him you were fine. You didn’t feel fine, but you knew they needed him. As long as you could see him on the other side of the bullpen, you were reluctant, but okay with him stepping away. He left his jacket draped around your shoulders. It helped to be surround by his smell and warmth.

When it was time to go home, Ed guided you to his car. You hadn’t spoken much, but at least you’d finally stopped crying. The car ride was quiet. The only thing that filled the air was Ed’s occasional hum with the radio. Neither of you quite knew what to say. It was a bit ironic considering usually nobody could ever get you two to shut up. You didn’t speak up until he turned onto your street.

“I don’t want to go home.” You said quietly, feeling the panic rise again at the thought of being alone at home again.

“That’s understandable. Would you like to stay at my place?” He asks. You nod, silently. He flicks his turn signal and starts the drive to his place.

“Welcome to Château Nygma.” He smiles, turning on the light. You still have his jacket wrapped around your shoulders. Despite the terror you’ve been through today, his smile is refreshing. You don’t question how he can stay so seemingly sane in times like these, but you’re just glad somebody is. You need that. Maybe you should have questioned it, but you didn’t. He has a nice apartment. It’s not too big. Why would it be for a man who lived by himself? It’s just the right size with cool windows and a comfortable setup.

“Do you want something to eat? I’m a good cook.” He smiles. You don’t know how he can continue to smile, but you’re glad. It starts to make you feel safer. It’s nice to be in a locked apartment with just you and Ed. It’s nice to be in a quiet, secluded place, but not feel alone. It’s far better than sitting on your bed, scared of any serial killers that could be hiding underneath the frame and jumping at any people you hear in the stairwell of your apartment, with an open case file sitting next to you, worried the killers you’re reading about could be onto you any second. Today was a very close call. Too close.

“If you’re not sure, that’s okay too.” He continues, noticing you’re deep in thought.

“Oh…uh yeah… I’m not sure what I want… It’s like my body needs things, but I’m just a little bit too overwhelmed to figure it out.” You look down, shyly.

“Do you want to just sit? I can put on some music?” He questions referencing the record player with his hands.

“That sounds okay. I think I can do that.” You nod. He puts on some quiet music, not too loud to overstimulate you and you make your way to the couch. He brings you a glass of water.

“I can imagine it might be hard for you to have an appetite given your increased levels of adrenaline today, but you should at least drink this.” You take the water from him and begin to sip it. You didn’t realize how nice cold water could feel. You drink it quickly, before setting the glass down.

“Thank you.”

Ed sits down and you gravitate towards him.

“How do you do it?” You ask.

“How do I do what?” He looks for clarification.

“Your job. There’s so much death everywhere.”

“I don’t know. I just sort of do. Honestly I think it’s fascinating…” He pauses, looking away from you. “Sorry. That probably sounds weird.”

“It does, but that’s okay. I like the fact that you’re different and you’re honest. It’s comforting. You’re a better man than all of those crooked cops walking around beating up women and mobsters alike.”

“You think so?” He asks.

“Yeah, I do.” You smile. This time it’s a real smile. Ed smiles too. It’s nice to know after everything he’s done for you to make you comfortable, you can say something to make him feel better.

“I’m sorry all of this has been so awful for you.” He says.

“I know we’re doing good and it’s important to do good in a world of so much bad, but sometimes I just wish nobody had to do it. I can’t even fathom what would make somebody what kill another person. Maybe out of necessity, but it scares me that people actually enjoy it.”

“Yeah.” Ed shifts uncomfortably. You think he must agree with you and that’s why he’s unconformable. You don’t know that he killed Officer Doherty for abusing Kristen just over a month ago.

The two of you talk for quite some time until you end up falling asleep next to him on the couch. He doesn’t mind when you fall into his lap. He lets you sleep, smiling down at you. He didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to wake you. He was afraid of breathing too deeply and shifting too much underneath you. He eventually falls asleep sitting up with you still in his lap.

Everything is peaceful until you shoot up screaming, in a cold sweat. You’ve had another nightmare. This time is different. You’re disoriented. You don’t know where you are. You feel hands touching you.

“(Y/N), it’s me! It’s Ed! You had another nightmare.” You look at his face to see him distraught, unsure of what to do. Your tossing and turning had woken him up. He was awake only seconds before you.

Your eyes begin to well with tears. “I just want it to stop. When will all of this stop?” You cry.

“When will what stop?” He asks.

“Everything! I just want to stop feeling like this. I want to stop being afraid. I should be used to the job by now.”

“Maybe you just need more time to get used to it! I know we talked about time management earlier. I can help you with your schedule.” He offers.

“I don’t want to manage my time. I just want it to freeze. I just wish time would freeze so I could just breathe and catch up!”

Ed looks at you defeated. He doesn’t know what to say. He likes riddles because riddles always have answers. He doesn’t know what to do when there’s a problem with no solution.

“I’m sorry.” He settles with saying. “Would a hug help?” He’s just grasping at anything he’s seen people do when trying to comfort other people with problems and no solutions.

“Yes.” You say quietly, burying your head in his chest. Despite being the one to offer the hug, he’s a little awkward at first. He eventually settles in.

“Is this helping?” He asks.

“Yes.” You tell him. Of course, Ed being who he is, even now he’s still looking for a solution. He doesn’t realize he may be the solution, or at least someone to help make the problem smaller. “You always help.” You add.

“I’m sure most of our coworkers would disagree.” He laughs.

“I never thanked you for earlier today.” You say quietly.

“It was nothing.” He smiles.

“No, Ed. Keeping me safe in a life or death situation isn’t nothing.”

“I’m sure anyone would have done it.” He argues.

“No, they wouldn’t have.” You tell him.

“I’ll always protect you.” He pulls you closer, shifting awkwardly underneath you. “You know… my apartment is always open if you want to sleep with me- I- I mean sleep with me in attendance- I- I mean sleep with each other- I- I mean near each other- you know! In case you have nightmares!”

“I might just have to take you up on that. This is the first night I’ve felt okay enough to be able to maybe go back to sleep afterwards.” You smile, trying not to laugh. You don’t want him to think you’re making fun of him. Truthfully you think he’s sweet and funny.

“You should go back to sleep and since I didn’t get to make you dinner I’ll be making you the best breakfast of your life tomorrow.” He beams.

“You better.” You snuggle into him. Ed is too awkward to suggest you go lay in his bed tonight and you’re too tired to care. You spend the rest of the night on the couch together. You can save the bed for tomorrow night. You know when you wake up in the morning you’ll be coming back. It was the most sleep you’ve gotten in weeks.

Ed wakes up before you and sneaks off the couch to start breakfast. He truthfully was a very good cook. His own sensory issues with food made him very particular about how it’s prepared. You wake up to the smell of something good in the oven. Ed is nowhere to be seen, but you hear him in the bathroom. He’s talking. You knew he often talked to himself, but he sounded like he was talking to someone else. Maybe he was on the phone. You were sure you were hearing one half of a conversation.

“I told you we could trust them. They like me for me. They think I’m a good man.”

[phoebe-delia]

Friend!! For the writing prompts… let’s see. How about……. good luck babe by chappell roan. Or if you don’t want a song prompt, how about: pool day / cookout / bank holiday weekend etc

✨💛✨💛✨💛✨💛✨ to you dear friend!

Oh, oh Elaine, @oknowkiss you know the way to my little writer's heart!! Thank you for the prompt options, my lovely friend. What a great selection! I do love a good angsty song prompt, especially one with these themes. This is Drarry gold; I'm not sure why I didn't think of it sooner, to be honest.

Based on "Good Luck Babe" by Chappell Roan. Big big thank you to my darling @basicallyahedgehog for looking this over. cw: angst, unhappy ending, implied infidelity (not really between Harry and Draco)

"I don't think this is working."

Draco's fingers freeze in their task of buttoning up his shirt. He blinks at himself in the mirror once. Twice. "I'm sorry?"

His eyes shift to Harry in the reflection. Draco feels a bit disgusted with himself at the immediate rush of affection for him; for this man with his cotton shirt and boxers, now nervously running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.

"I've had a great time with you these past few months," Harry says. "But I don't think this will work out. I'm sorry if that's not what you want to hear, but you deserve the truth."

Draco’s speechless for a long moment before he asks, “And what is the truth, Harry?”

Harry looks away, and Draco nearly snaps at him to at least have the decency to make eye contact while breaking his heart—but he doesn’t.

“The truth is that I don’t think this will work out,” Harry says carefully. “There are certain…responsibilities and considerations I have to make—”

Draco scoffs. “Bullshit. It’s because of her, isn’t it? You’re leaving for her.”

Harry flinches. “N-no. I just…”

“You’re a lot of things, Potter,” Draco says coldly, fingers moving quickly to finish buttoning his shirt, “but a coward hasn’t been one of them. Until now.”

“Draco, please—”

"Fuck off." Draco grabs his wand and strides out of the bedroom.

He heads for the door, but Harry beats him to it, blocking his exit. “Just wait—”

“Get out of my way.”

“No, Draco, not until we talk about this.”

“What's there to talk about? You already said this isn't working. Why try to fix what you purposefully broke?” Draco spits the last word like poison, relishing the way Potter winces.

"I just want to explain."

“No! You said I deserve the truth, but the truth is, I pity Ginevra," Draco sneers. "She’ll get your name and your ring. But she’s got no idea she’ll be marrying a man who closes his eyes and fucks her while thinking of men,” Draco's sneer twists into a cruel smirk. “Of me.”

“But....I love her,” Harry whispers.

“You love her like a sister, Potter.” Draco reaches forward, using a finger to lift Harry’s chin until their eyes meet. “But she could never make you feel the way I do. No one can.”

Draco surges forward, capturing Harry’s lips in a heated kiss. Harry gives in immediately, and he barely seems to notice when Draco flips them around and presses himself against the door.

He pulls away, panting against Harry’s lips, and reaches one hand behind himself to grasp the door handle. “Have a good life, Potter. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”

With that, Draco opens the door behind himself and steps backward. He slams it shut, but the last thing he sees as the door closes is Harry, staying silent, but with one hand outstretched, reaching for him.

Send me a prompt! See the guidelines here.

[sgiandubh]

Have you seen the official Getty pictures of Sam and Eleanor from tonight and this below? I’m not sure how to best express my feelings but it’s making me question the special chemistry I thought S and C had and believing they are a couple. I’m trying not to be sad but I’m questioning everything I have believed.

https://twitter.com/cashmyeshaybabe/status/1719822928714596696?s=46&t=PwRUwYJkImTt7ctbAQQkKw

Thanks for a weary and distraught shipper.

(*Testing 1, 2. Testing 1, 2, 3. Can everyone hear me?*... is the Austen-esque style civilized enough for your crowd?!)

Dear Weary and Distraught Anon,

I have Reasons to believe you are neither Weary, nor Distraught (or a Shipper, for that matter), since you are making The Rounds in the Hope that you will Elicit a New Convert, or at least Stir Shite like it's God's Work. Let me, therefore, Inform you that @bat-cat-reader has Blocked you on the spot, which I believe prompted this Last Resort solution of turning to me.

I happen to share the Same Sentiments as you, Anon. I am also Weary of People Like You, immediately popping in our inboxes with your Puerile, huffing and puffing Fake Tantrums, every Single Time S or C get out of Their Bubble and have a public apparition. And I am also Distraught at the Very Thought that People Like You still think we are Candid enough to even consider your intellectually Precarious Arguments, even for a Single Second.

These are the Earth-Shattering pictures that ruined your Evening, Anon:

Exhibit 1: a bit of eye-candy for 'your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses'. Promo-shtick 101.

Exhibit 2, or as your Chief, the Dimwit would dementedly shout every time one of you, Anons, makes it alive back to Mordor: MARRIT! FUCKING! (I believe the Third Interjection in her Dedicated and Minimalistic Vocabulary was...MARRAPAZ? 🙄)

Ho-hum. He doesn't even touch Tomlinson in this second picture, Anon.

Have a chicle, Anon. Then, repeat after me:

Eleanor Tomlinson is C's Good Friend. C has publicly okayed the project on X when they started shooting the series.

Eleanor Tomlinson is MARRIT to Will Owen since 2022. Their first marriage anniversary was Paper.

Eleanor Tomlinson and Sam Heughan have On-screen Chemistry only. They do not have a Ten Year-long History of Innuendos and decently substantiated occurrences, allowing for a pretty Clear Theory of life/love status - unlike Those Other Two you are so readily doubting, Liar Anon.

When you are done repeating those, please write 120 times in a row the following:

I have the attention span of a Highland midge and the ferocity of a rattlesnake.

We're done now, Anon. Please pack your belongings hit the Copy/Paste buttons for a Fuming Anon to Dimwit citing All Subsequent Comments to this Post and kindly (but quickly) see Yerself Oot.

[sev-on-kamino]

Yesterday was a lot on many levels.

We saw one of the kindest people, our dear Pineapple, take her leave from this hellsite, and the whole space is darker for that.

But we also saw many voices raised in support of our friend, and after all the unkindness, that was beautiful to see. It’s so good to know that people can see the content of her character, and they’re not shy about speaking up for her.

I was supremely angry and drafted a mean ass post with my rage. I couldn’t find it in me to be gracious or eloquent or anything but upset for my friend. After sleeping on it, I’m still not happy, but I’d like to share something less angry.

Slightly less angry.

The fandom space is entirely in our control. We can control who we interact with, what we see, and how we react to things. We can also control who we do not interact with, and guess what? That’s okay too.

Everyone isn’t going to be besties with everyone else, but that doesn’t give anyone the right to be ugly, mean-spirited, or a whole fucking bully.

Part ways, and leave the past where it belongs.

What someone says about me behind my back is quite frankly of no concern to me. I know who I am, what I stand for, and I’m too old to give a fuck.

What someone says about my friends though? Yeah, that will never slide. The lies told about Pineapple were just that. Lies. The vitriol aimed in her direction was unwarranted and just the sad attempt of two people, who can’t get their heads out of their asses, to cause harm in the greatest way they could manage.

But believe me when I say, the truth will always come to light, and while you may have fooled a few people, you can’t fool everyone.

If this message makes you feel some type of way, you know where the unfollow and block buttons are. I won’t be silent about things like this, and I will not hold back if someone decides they’re feeling froggy and wanna leap.

To Pineapple: I love you, darlin’, and this place is better with you, and because of you. You’re a bright spot here, and don’t ever let some rotten shrimp tail tell you differently.

With love, hope, and a bit of an attitude,

Sev <3

[writer-by-the-sea]

Could I steal a drabble or a letter (I don't mind whatever is easier) since I'm rather sick? Ive fallen into that nasty habit of working myself until my body decides 'if you don't sit down I'll make you'

🫶🏻 - your favorite IT friend

The glare from the computer screen is still shining bright late into the night. Elliott rolls over and checks his watch, the time reading 4:24 in the morning. He shields his eyes and tries to adjust to the light, frowning when he sees you still working.

“Babe,” he mumbled and sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Come to bed.”

“Almost done,” you reply automatically. “I'll come to bed soon,” you lie.

Elliott groans and throws back the blankets. “No, you're come to bed, even if I have to drag you there myself.”

“Elliott, you began, “just let me finish this last part— oh my god! Elliott, no!”

You laugh as he swoops you up from your computer chair, your legs accidentally kicking it over and onto its side. “Elliott, yes,” he replied with a soft, tired chuckle. “You can finish in the morning.”

“But my deadline–”

“Is not worth your health.”

You pouted, crossing your arms over your chest as Elliott carefully placed you onto the bed. “Listen–” you tried to protest, only to be cut off with a soft pair of lips against your own.

Elliott pulled away from you, wagging a finger at you. “Sleep, or I will take away all computer privileges for a month.”

“Fine,” you sighed and turned to your side, looking at your computer that was so bright it lit up the whole bedroom as if it were day. “Can you turn off the monitor?”

“The what?” Elliott asked and looked back to the computer. “The power button?”

“No!” You tried to get out of the bed, but Elliott blocked you.

“Worry not, my love, I have the perfect resolution.”

His hands grabbed the bottom of his sleep shirt, slipping it over his head and then placing it over the monitor. It somewhat successfully blocked out the light. At least enough to get some rest.

And enough to see his toned upper body as he climbed into bed with you. He tucked himself behind you, dragging you into his arms, much to your enjoyment as you let a giggle slip.

He kissed the back of your head. “In the morning, I'll make you waffles.”

“With strawberries?”

“Anything you want, dear.”

[horsefreek151]

I went to Pride in a Wheelchair!

I love going to things and haven't been able to do more than one thing a month for YEARS till I got my wheelchair. I went from ambulatory 100% of the time to having to take any trip where I'll be standing for more than 10 minutes in a wheelchair within four years (let's be honest, its been two years since I started using a cane). I got my "over-the-counter" wheelchair last February after using the wheelchair service for the first time at an airport. It's been LIFE CHANGING.

I can run errands with my husband and go to one store on my own while he goes to the other. I can take myself for a "walk" without worrying about falling or getting too exhausted. I can do stuff all day and be in so little pain I can cook dinner and take care of myself and the animals.

I was really anxious (I'm Autistic, have ADHD, and suffer from CPTSD, so new things are stressful), but I decided to go to Pride this year with my husband. We hadn't gone since 2019. I wanted to finally go out again. And I wanted to take my wheelchair. I didn't want to go out, and I knew I would come home and be stuck in bed for two days after.

My Service dog can perform around the chair. Honestly, she does better in the chair because she can reach me more easily. She's six pounds, 2.72 Kg, so it's easier for her to check in and tell me if something is wrong. It's also a good training opportunity. The only hitches were on the way was that there was a dude who thought it was ok to CLIMB over me (The MBTA worker chased him down, hollering at him for it before letting me off, Bostonian MBTA man, you are my hero <3). A very nice Queer Butch Vet helped me when I got stuck at one point partway off the train, with my dear husband pulling me. The other hitch was a very eager pitbull puppy (like a year or two) who practically jumped in my chair to say hi to my service dog (who shockingly didn't bat an eye at the head larger than her whole ass body, just looked slightly confused). I shoved him off my chair, saying "Fuck off" sharply, and my husband hip-checked the dog back. His handlers looked horrified, but we were fine. He was just so strong they didn't realize. We had a wonderful time at the parade, and my service dog had some great socialization (she has a "say hi" command cause people will say hi anyway, and I want her to be able to snap back to attention). I learned she knows the difference between someone in a mascot suit and someone who is a furry in a fur suit (I think she can tell emotional investment; she dislikes mascots and loves fursuiters). I met a photographer and their partner, who gave us a photo of her. I got to go on a roll without my husband and a friend who joined us to go talk to a few booths, Including a queer library where my librarian husband could do some volunteer work. After, we went to the block party, and I chatted with the Sex Workers and Volunteers at the Sex Work Decriminalisation booth (something I'm INCREDIBLY passionate about) and showed off her "Working Girrrl" patch I made her for her little pride outfit (It was a huge hit and they gave her a button). I plan to try to do some graphic design and art for them! We had a wonderful time. We went home after 8 and a half hours. I LASTED 8.5 HOURS. It was amazing. We got home and soaked our sore joints, but I was able to do stuff the next day with no problem! It was shocking; I felt almost normal. I felt like myself again for a bit. I would have barely made it through a bit of the parade, let alone through the T and public transit, with my service dog. I felt free.

I was so glad and told my therapist I wanted to go out more with my chair on trips, to visit places and events! I want to go out and about again! She was very excited.

It's been over a year of resting and waiting till I get better, but knowing deep down, that wasn't going to happen. I'm so glad to have that bit of me back.

[limerencedisorder]

series masterlist

note: ive been busy af sorry for taking eleven days to write another chapter lmfao. also i have a writers block for genshin impact. apologies😢

cws: Forced relationship, Childe is disgusting, suggestive, other canon characters mentioned, implied sex, I don't ship chilumi lol, kinda just childe being clingy af, bro this chapter is kinda random help

NOT PROOFREAD!

Chapter 1

You awake with an unfamiliar pair of eyes burning through the back of your head. Just as unfamiliar as this bedroom. The bedroom of Childe. It's been six days since the murder of your late-boyfriend and you were accused of the murder.

Fortunately, your "new boyfriend" stepped in and claimed you were with him and his friends the whole time, and you both found the body. Surprisingly "Scaramouche" and "Signora" were the friends and they agreed. Are there more horrible people like Childe?? Is that why they stood up for him?? You thought.

Lost in thought, Childe snapped you out of it.

"Mornin' pretty." He spoke softly. You hesitantly looked behind you, locking eyes with the ginger. Dull eyes. So dark and deep like the abyss. You just stared at him, lost in thought once again.

"Got lost in my eyes?" He questioned. Moving a hand up to caress your cheek.

Finally, you spoke. "No. I was just wondering where I went wrong." You slowly got up, stripped of your clothes because of last night. Gosh you hate to admit but he was amazing. He grinned. "Get changed." He spoke casually.

"For what reason?" You asked him. Lost in thought again. Maybe it wasn't so bad you spent all your attention on Zhongli. After all, he's gone now. At least you made the most of it. Childe glanced at you, putting on his button up. "If something's on your mind you can speak it." He said, completely ignoring your question. He climbed onto the bed and on top of you. "Get off of me." You glared at him. He ignored you and grabbed a shirt from his drawer.

"Wear this." He gently held the shirt against your bare chest. Looking down on the floor, your ripped panties and new shirt in the corner of the room. "Don't you have a girlfriend Childe.." You mumbled. That blonde hair girl with golden eyes. She was clingy towards Childe and Childe seemed to reciprocate her acts and feelings. It would make sense if they were dating. Unless it was another regular girl pining after him.

"I told you last night to call me Ajax." Childe noticed your staring at your panties and shirt, then walked up to it and picked up some of its pieces. "I'll buy you a new one." He looked at your face. Blank. Gosh why were you acting so hard? Is it really that hard to act normal now? He sighed. "You didn't answer my question." You looked up at him.

"You mean that girl named Lumine?" He questioned. "So you do have a girlfriend." You sighed.

"Well-" "I don't think she'll be very happy after finding out her boyfriend committed a crime then proceeded to cheat on her with the victims girlfriend." You interrupted.

He chuckled. "Jealous?" You scoffed. "Of course not. I feel bad for the girl." He just looked at you, his smile fading for a quick second. "Just get changed." His smile returning as fast as it faded. Oh that poor girl.. What would she do when she sees her dear boyfriend with another woman?

Childe left the room, shutting it gently as you watched him leave. You then laid back on the bed, wondering- where did it go wrong? And then you remember. The moment you met eyes with Childe, you should have scrambled away. But you didn't. You curse yourself for being so reckless. His eyes were so bright, but so dead. They were so sharp as if it could cut you with a knife. Many girls found him attractive and you couldn't blame them for it. But he just wasn't your type.

Now he's here, doing whatever he thinks is called love. Gosh you just wished he killed you as soon as you found out. Take what he has to offer? You scoffed. As if.

Childe entered the room, opening the door slightly. "What're you doing? Stay awake pretty I'm making breakfast for you." You rolled your eyes then got off the bed, walking out the door as he shut it gently. He took your hand and led you to the table and smiled. You sat down, him sitting in front of you. You stared at him for a little, a little awkward. He chuckled then rested his head on his hand, smiling at you.

"Eat up pretty." He spoke softly, waiting for you to take a bite of his eggs. You grabbed your utensil that was place on the side of the table, using it to cut the egg. It was odd how Childe would always stare at you when you eat. No matter what it was- A quick snack from him or a drink. But this time, he looked desperate for you to take a bite of his eggs. So you did, and he immediately sat up straight with a huge grin on his face.

Well at least he knew how to cook. You thought, still tasting the food from before.

He had you cuddling against his chest, his soft snores as his grip on you was too tight to be comfortable. A hand on the back of your thigh and the other wrapped around your body, holding you close. You could barely move in the position, squeezed so tight against him. You couldn't breathe too well.

Childe shifted slightly, giving you more space to breathe as you took a deep breath. You sighed in relief. Just this one time, I'll let him. You thought. You were too weary to even care.

You've just been here for the meantime. Childe went out to buy stuff and you would always be left behind. It was irritating. He acted as if you couldn't take care of yourself. In the mean time you just did whatever you wanted. You fucked up some of his stuff and hid them in the corner of his closet.

It's petty but who cares?

Oh you can't wait to see his face when he arrives.

..A voice.

A feminine voice.

It sounds like.. Her.

Tag list:

@notsodivininglover @homopheli

[violetfairydust]

several sentence sunday

Thank you @dear-massacre and @endwersed for tagging me! Love you guys!

I have a good handful of fics I'm working on. This is absolutely the most self-indulgent fic I have and I'm thrilled. Stiles and Derek are best friends and Stiles is going to find out Derek doesn't talk about his family.

-

“You’re either going to have to stop talking about it or stop being vague because I have no idea what you’re talking about. And if you don’t tell me, I can always hack into your email.” He stopped at the light. “Seriously. Your password isn’t hard to guess. I could probably get it in three tries.”

Derek exhaled sharply. “Alright,” he snapped. “I’ll tell you, but it’s absurd as all hell.” They paused at the crosswalk. “Our family reunion isn’t “let’s gather and drink and catch up.” We turn it into a game. We’re a very competitive family.” He took a ridiculously long pause. “You know how in Friends they had the Geller Cup?”

Stiles cracked a smile as the light turned green. He stared at Derek as they crossed River Street. He didn’t look like he was joking, but there was no way he could be serious. No way. If it was true, Stiles was going to invite himself to the Hale reunion.

“I’m familiar with the Geller Cup, yes.”

“We participate in a similar… competition…”

The two took a left down Turner. Derek was quiet for most of the block. Stiles tried to wrap his head around the idea that the Hales had their own Olympics every summer. What exactly did they do? Derek diving into the lake was an interesting image that wouldn’t leave his brain. He let it entertain him while Derek was silent.

“Why is it so bad Laura’s hosting this year?”

“Because it’s hard to win by yourself. Usually you compete in couples. My sister and her husband, our uncle and his wife, cousins and their partners. I hosted the last few years because I haven’t been in a relationship since high school. Laura recently broke up with her girlfriend, so she jumped at the chance to host. The hosts don’t participate, they judge the competition.”

“But you can win by yourself.”

“It’s not common, but you can.”

“Have you ever won?”

“It’s been years. Not since sophomore year of college.” He pulled the glass door of the office. He held it open for Stiles. “You can be as strong, smart, and strategic as everyone else, but if there’s two of you, your chances triple. That was back in the day when everyone was single.”

Stiles pressed the button for the elevator. “What about your parents?”

“They’re judges regardless of the host. They would also be the hosts if everyone was paired off.” He glanced at the glowing triangle above the doors. “They’re not quite as competitive. They used to be team leaders, but that position was eliminated after a few years.”

They stepped into the elevator. Stiles pressed the button for the fifth floor and looked at Derek’s reflection in the doors. They mirrored the other with their hands in their pockets. Though, Stiles smirked and Derek’s features were blank.

“Scandal?”

“Some techniques are better than others, which gave the other team a disadvantage. After that, most of the events were changed.”

The bell dinged on the fifth floor. Derek hurried off the elevator and Stiles jogged to catch up.

“This is fascinating. How come you never brought it up before?”

“Why would I? I didn’t think it was important.” Derek dropped into his chair. “Especially since I was the host for the last four years. I sat on the sidelines and watched everyone trip over each other for some engraved Christmas tree topper.”

“Is that your trophy?” He dumped the watered down soda in the trash.

“It’s a plaque with “Championship Winner” on it that we can place on the mantle and brag about when people come over. I know I won’t be seeing that award for a while.”

“Why not?” Stiles typed in his password. “I think you could win. You could take all of them.”

-

No pressure tags: @eevylynn @thotpuppy @oldefashioned @renmackree

[rengoku-loves-you]

Would you ever perhaps do Kyojuro with a reader S/O that is physically a lot bigger than him? Just a lot taller and wider and physically very strong? I love the idea of their hugs making him feel safe and protected, and also flustered Kyo from being totally scooped up so effortlessly. I feel like not a lot of people in the world could make him feel that way but he deserves it, given how hard he protects everyone else all the time. Thank you if so and if not no worries!

(my first one in awhile, so sorry it took so long dear 😭 i hope this is good enough!! i'm still shaking off the writer's rust, so my apologies if it isn't quite the peak of quality! <3)

rengoku x reader (in which reader is much, much bigger than him)

all his life, ever since his mother died, rengoku has been the bigger person. the protector. the one to hold senjurou when he cried and carry him when he fell, clean up after his father's mess, protect the innocents who knew nothing of the world from the wicked demons. he'd accepted his position with grace and a smile, just like his mother taught him. because he was strong, and he was good, and he could handle it. he was expected to handle it.

now, he's found someone bigger.

and it's strange.

he didn't think much of your physical appearance at first. he knew himejima, and you were around the same height... probably. he never saw you two next to each other long enough to compare. he only knew he had to tilt his head back about the same to look at your face. which hurt his neck, so more often than not he didn't bother and stared straight forward at your chest instead.

he wasn't really sure why you laughed when he did, but you didn't demand that he look at you properly, so he didn't mind. he laughed along before continuing whatever conversation you'd been having, and that was the end of it.

until you started visiting the rengoku estate to train together. and then went on to stay for dinner. and then kept going from there.

shifting from allies to friends to dating seemed so natural that he hadn't even questioned it. he cared for you, and you cared for him, so it made sense! he just... didn't expect dating to be so physically different from friends. and now he's constantly reminded of just how small he is compared to you.

the first true realization is during one of your training sessions together, just after the first time you manage to knock him flat on his back. after the initial surprise, you give a loud bark of laughter as you drop your shinai to the ground, seemingly in disbelief. he laughs as well, delighted by your very first victory over him.

"bravo!" he booms, clapping his hands together and beaming at you. "i knew it was only a matter of time before you bested me! our training together truly is paying off!" you smile proudly back at him.

"thank you! i learned from the best," you say. before he can get up, you take two long strides toward him, bending down to hold out your hand.

and that's when he pauses. standing where you are, your tall frame manages to completely block out the sun, rendering him entirely within your shadow as light surrounds you like a halo. head tilted back to gaze up at you from the ground, something in his brain clicks.

"oh," he says, "you're very tall." you blink. and then you chuckle again, though your expression shows confusion.

"thank you? it ran in the family." you curl your fingers, silently urging him to take your hand, and he does. you pull him to his feet with ease. your shadow still engulfs him, and he takes a step away, back into the sun. "did it take you this long to notice?"

"of course not!" he stares at a button on your uniform as you dust off his shoulders. his face is tinged pink. "i just haven't quite... understood until now, i suppose." you hum, giving his clothes one last brush.

"it's pretty easy to understand. i'm big," you pat your chest, "and you're little." you put your hand on his head, giving his hair a teasing ruffle.

"ah!" he says, ducking away from you and shielding himself with both hands. "no, no, i'm afraid you have it wrong! you're merely..." he takes a hand from his head to wave it in your general direction, and you grin wider when words seem to fail him, "...large."

you tease him for a bit longer before he distracts you with continuing the training session. though the conversation ends, the thought lingers, and he finds himself making comparisons whenever you're near. studying how the training swords seem like baby toys in your hands. how the uniform is that much tighter around your arms and chest and thighs. teacups and utensils almost laughably tiny as you handle them with delicate care.

how he fits perfectly under your arm when he sits beside you. the way his hand disappears when you hold it just as delicately as the teacups despite both of your scars and blisters. the way your arms wrap around him so completely and make him feel very small and safe and whatever the positive version of claustrophobic is.

and then you pick him up.

he doesn't expect it. he's meditating outside, regulating his breathing, when you sneak up on him. but not really, because he can hear your near-silent footsteps stop in front of him. he was going to let you have your fun trying and failing to startle him, but you don't fail.

you succeed so well, in fact, that when he feels hands under his arms lifting him from the ground, his eyes fly open and his leg swings up and nearly nails you in the jaw.

"whoa, kyo, hey! it's just me!" you sound half amused, half alarmed as you hold him at arm's length. he freezes, and then he stares with wide, wide eyes as you give a hesitant laugh. "yeah... probably not a good idea to sneak up on a slayer. sorry." his lips part, preparing to speak, but nothing comes out. he doesn't know what to say.

he can't remember the last time he was held, and with so much ease. like he weighs hardly more than a newborn kitten.

your grin fades, and you lower him back to the ground, clearly taking his silence the wrong way. he grabs your wrists before you can retract your arms, closing his mouth and inhaling deeply through his nose. by the time he exhales, he's managed a smile.

"that's alright!" he says. "you merely startled me, no need to apologize! i was prepared for a shout or a touch on the shoulder, not... not that." his voice fades near the end, unintentionally. you look prepared to apologize again, so he lets go of your wrists to clasp one of your hands in both of his, bowing slightly over it. "please forgive my poor reaction! i haven't been held in such a way for a very long time and let my instincts get the better of me!"

"oh, no, that's okay." when he glances up at your expression, you seem thoughtful. "is it... fine if i hold you? i wanted to, but if you don't like it-"

"of course!" he cuts you off, loud and dare you say, eager? he squeezes your hand tighter, then lets go. "i would only request that you don't surprise me in the future, or i won't be responsible for what i might do!"

"aw," you say. "you mean i have to warn you before i do-" you stoop down, sweep one arm under his knees, catch him around the shoulders before he falls, and straighten up, "-this?"

"hm," he says. you moved slow, giving him more than enough time to dance away or stop you. he did no such thing, and now he lies giddy and awkward against your chest, high above the ground, his cheeks as flame-touched as his hair as his smile grows wide and wild. he wrestles his arm out where it's squished between you, throwing it around the back of your neck. his other hand raises to your cheek.

"i told you. i won't be responsible for what i'll do."

he's still smiling when he leans up from your arms to kiss you.

[venjt]

Dear Anti Anon,

I intended to delete and move on, but I'm tired of not sticking up for myself. Today, I change that because these kinds of messages occur often.

First of all, I don't get quirky with minors. That's a very bold assumption and a very harsh one. That kind of assumption can ruin lives, but you don't care because it's not you, lol. Casually saying something like that loses its seriousness. I don't associate myself with any minors. I hardly associate with people online besides my close friends. I'm an 18+ account all around my social medias. It even said so on my bio, but I guess you decided to ignore that fact, but not the proship/profic LOL

I'm glad you like my art. You're capable of being nice, yet proceed to let your hatred on me because of your personal bias. Have you ever thought maybe reflecting? You actually wasted your time and wasted my time sending me this. If you truly dislike proship, then why are you here? Just to insult me and tell me to get a life like a mature person that you are? Great job 👏 you showed me lol

You have the actual block buttons and mute buttons to click on. If something you dont like is on your page, click click! There's some stuff I don't like either. All I do is press it. It's not complicated.

I'll share you this imagine bellow so that you REALLY understand what proship is. This is just a snippet of it, but whatever was taught to you is surely misleading.

This'll be my one and only response to an anti anon. Any others will be deleted and never brought up.

Also Anti Anon? I hope you have a wonderful day. I forgive your lack of understanding and your mean words. I'm above this hatred. You can be above that too.

[jedijesi]

Caught in the Cat's Web Chapter 5

Miguel O'Hara x Felicia Hardy! Reader

Previous Chapter 🕸️ Series Masterlist

Warnings: Unwanted kiss, Angst, Fluff, Sexual Tension, enemies to lovers, slowish burn, she/her pronouns

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Angry with Miguel for ruining her date, Felicia gives him the silent treatment. Now that training is over Felicia does field work, bumping into an old foe causing everything to go wrong.

Co-Author: @stclairesplace

A/N: We hit 900 followers! Thank you all so much! My inbox is open for requests to celebrate!

Nueva York, Earth 838

Felicia’s been able to successfully avoid Miguel for the past week, too angry and humiliated to even look at him. If he's in the cafeteria, she’ll skip lunch, if he's talking to Jessica, she'll be hiding until he leaves. Even worse, Web-Slinger has been avoiding her like the plague. Felicia really was attracted to Web-Slinger and enjoyed his company, so she was hoping they'd at least be friends, but since that traumatizing night, he’s been doing the same thing to her as Felicia has been doing to Miguel. 

All of this meant she had to shadow Jessica for the week, and as much as she loved Felicia, she was gonna go crazy if she had to endure another rant about how huge of a douchebag Miguel is. Luckily, she was able to survive the week and move on from this disaster of a month. 

“We are all so proud of each and every one of you,” Jessica said in front of the recruits. “As of today, you are all part of the Spider-Society.” The sounds of cheers and clapping echo through the gym as the heroes celebrate. “When you can, please talk with LYLA to get your missions and schedule your placements.” 

“Congratulations, recruits,” Miguel speaks up, standing behind Jessica. 

While everyone celebrates, Felicia walks out without a word. Miguel can't help but notice the change in behavior since he caught her and Web-Slinger together. In a weird way, he missed bickering with the hot-headed woman. She was loud, obnoxious, stubborn, but brought so much life to a room. Since then, he hasn’t heard a word come out of her or seen that signature smirk on her face. 

Miguel frowns under his mask before deciding to push through the crowd of celebrating graduates. Once he steps out of the gym, he sees Felicia down the hall walking as she talks to LYLA. Miguel speeds up in an attempt to catch up with her. 

“Sir! Wanna get drinks with us?” A few recruits follow Miguel out of the gym. Unfortunately, this catches Felicia’s attention, prompting her to turn around to see Miguel 10 yards from her, making quick strides. 

Miguel curses to himself as she immediately turns her attention to her watch, pressing buttons, opening a portal, and running through, leaving Miguel a universe away. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

New York, Earth-192

The cool breeze of the autumn night embraces Felicia as she lays on the rooftop of the building. When she was the Black Cat, she would come to this rooftop almost every night to listen to the jazz music from the club below. It was her safe place as she would normally bring a bottle of wine and play with her new jewels from the Tiffiny’s she robbed a few blocks down. Tonight, she was just here to unwind, to go back in time. 

Felicia sings along to the song as she plays with her hair. “So if you really love me, say yes, but if you don't, dear, confess, and please don't tell me, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps-” 

“I’ll always love listening to you on this rooftop,” a voice caused Felicia to jump, her heart pounding as she released her talons and swiftly aimed her webshooters in the direction from which the voice came.

Felicia's stomach churned at the sight of the Spider-Suit. “Why are you here, Peter?”

Peter chuckled, trying to diffuse the tension. “You've got the Spider-Man pose down perfectly.” He nodded to her stance, though Felicia's grip on her webshooters remained firm.

“Answer the question, Peter,” Felicia said through clenched teeth, her readiness to strike undiminished.

Peter raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “Woah, easy, cat! I’ve— I've been watching you. I hope that doesn't sound creepy.”

Felicia's eyes narrowed. “That's ridiculously creepy, Peter. I don't want anything to do with you.”

Before Peter could offer further explanation, the cacophonous sound of a car crash reverberated nearby, grabbing their attention. Without a second thought, Felicia executed a graceful backflip off the rooftop, swinging down to the accident site, with Peter following closely behind.

A semi-truck had run a red light, hitting several cars in the process. Three large men hop out of the truck and sprint down the street. While Spider-Man checks on the victims, Night-Spider books it down the street. As she got closer, she shot webs all over them to slow the men down before landing on the first man, digging her claws into his back, causing him to let out a screech.  

Once the man falls to the floor in agony, she quickly webs his limbs to the dirty sidewalk before attacking her next victim. This time, instead of running, the two decide to fight. The first one swings his fist at Night-Spider but her agility allows her to gracefully dodge it, landing a few jabs to the man's gut until he grabs her, flinging her into the street. 

Night-Spider groans before hastily jumping up. “Surrender now, and I'll go easy on you.” 

The two men chuckle before the second charges her. Night-Spider grabs his wrist, redirecting his punch into the taxi’s hood. As the man groans, Felicia uses her claws to slice into his biceps before getting tackled to the ground by the other criminal. 

The man sits on her stomach, punching her face until he sees blood. Night-Spider cried out, doing her best to web him and scratch him, but it was no use. She could feel her sturdy mask over her eyes beginning to break, as he landed punch after punch. 

Before it could break, the man was thrown off of Night-Spider. She could barely comprehend what was happening as she attempted to regain her breath. What she could hear were a series of punches and thwips before being picked up and whisked away. 

“Are you okay?” These were the only words she was able to make out through the ringing in her ears. 

A gloved hand caresses Night-Spider’s bloody face as she tries to focus on her senses.  “Miguel?” was all that she was able to grunt out. “Tha- thank you.” She coughs out, leaning into his gloved palm. 

The cracks in Night-Spider’s goggles made it difficult to see properly, causing the world to appear like a kaleidoscope. After a moment she was ultimately able to make out the figure holding her. 

“P-Peter?! Let me go!” Felicia shouts, pushing him away. 

Peter throws his hands up defensively as he takes a few steps backward. “Fine but we gotta go back and make sure the injured are okay.”

Felicia’s vision still blurred and head spinning, nodded in a daze, feeling a disorienting wave wash over her as she struggled to regain her footing.

“You okay?” Peter asked, concern etching his voice as he reached out for her, but the world still felt like it was tilting around her.

Felicia, her breath ragged, mustered the last of her strength, her anger flaring as she smacked his hand away. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed with a mixture of pain and fury before she vaulted off the building, her figure disappearing into the night as she descended to attend to the injured victims below.

As Night-Spider inspected everyone, a flood of flashing lights from cameras and reporters arrived at the scene, bombarding Night-Spider with questions, which she ignored to care for the victims. 

Night Spider rolled her eyes as Spider-Man posed for pictures and answered their question. She never remembered Spider-Man being so vain. Sure, Peter Parker could be at times but since they broke up, he’s changed. The reporters continued to press, with questions that ranged from intrusive to ludicrous:

“Are you two a couple?”

“How did you get your powers?” 

“When can we expect Spider-Babies?”

“Kiss for us!” 

Reporters shouted, irking Night-Spider. The swirling blue and red lights from the arriving police cars added to the chaotic atmosphere. The blinding flashes of cameras and microphones thrust toward her felt like an assault on her senses. Suddenly, She feels an arm wrap around her waist. In a split second, Spider-Man had dipped her, moving his mask up to kiss her. Felicia could barely comprehend everything that was happening and lights flashed rapidly and her shock froze her. 

Once Spider-Man breaks the kiss, Night-Spider immediately backs away, thwips a web to the nearest building, and rushes away from the scene.

"Sorry, she's shy," Spider-Man shrugged with an apologetic grin before swiftly departing in search of Felicia.

After a few minutes of searching, Peter found her on a quiet rooftop by the river. Silently, he landed beside her, gently placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” Felicia shouted, a surge of anger and fear coursing through her as she reacted by delivering a punch to Peter's face.

Peter rubbed his jaw, wincing. "Woah! Ouch! Your powers are definitely getting stronger," he observed.

“Why did you do that?” Felicia cried, her voice a mix of anger and vulnerability.

Peter took off his mask, revealing his earnest expression as he looked at Felicia through her shattered lenses. “I want to work things out between us.”

Felicia scoffs, turning away from him to look at the water below. “No, Peter. This isn’t like the last several times where we break up, you fuck MJ, get back together, and then you run right back to her!” 

“Felicia-“

“NO! Have you slept with MJ since we broke up?” The silence between the two became deafening, leaving the only thing to be heard was the sound of her pounding heart. “Fuck you,” Felicia says before turning to her watch and opening a portal. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nueva York, Earth-838

It was late at night in Nueva York, which meant if anyone was up, they were at the bars upstairs, asleep, or on missions. Although, it was one of Miguel’s favorite moments of the night. Things were finally quiet, peaceful even which was a rarity in his line of work. Therefore Miguel would indulge himself by going to the cafe and making himself a drink, maybe grabbing himself a late-night snack before going back to his room to mope about life. 

However, this time it was different, as Miguel walked through the main hall to the living quarters, he heard the hum of a portal open, followed by a series of screams. Intrigued, he walks closer to inspect the situation. That’s when he found Felicia. 

“Ahhhh!” She screamed, throwing her destroyed mask and watch on the ground, and watching it shatter into a thousand pieces before letting out a scream of agony. Her body glitched and contorted forcing her hair to fall from its style. “You, son of a bitch!” She shouted, punching a hole into the column next to her.

As Miguel got closer, she turned just enough to see blood dripping from her face and onto her suit. Hastily, Miguel throws his items onto the table beside him, running to her aide. 

“Felicia!” Miguel jumps back as Felicia swings her fist at him, screaming. “Woah! Easy there, I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

Felicia looks through her bloody lashes, up at the startled man. Panting, she falls forward into his arms. “Miguel.” All she's able to muster. 

“What happened? Who did this to you?” He asks, using the sleeve of his navy sweater to wipe the blood from her face. 

“They're dealt with.” She gritted through her teeth. 

“What happened?” Miguel says sternly. 

“I had it handled, but then one caught me off guard and- and” Felicia uses everything in her to keep her emotions in check, but it's useless as the pain and heartbreak overtake her. “I couldn’t save myself. And then he- he- he kissed me, used me, broke my heart-”

Miguel shushes the hysterical woman, trying to ease her mind. “You’re safe. Want me to bring you home?”

Felicia jumps at Miguel’s words. “N-no! I can’t- I won't go back!” She lets out another scream as she glitches again, more painful than the time before.

“Okay, okay.” Miguel panics needing to get her a visitor’s band to replace the watch. “I have a spare room in my penthouse, are you okay with staying there? Otherwise, I can try to see if there's another available-”

“The spare room is fine,” Felicia says, her voice shaking with adrenaline. 

Miguel’s chest aches at the broken woman in his arms. “Okay. I'll take care of you.” 

Miguel picks Felicia up, taking her to his penthouse on the other side of the building. Once he arrives, the doors automatically slide open, revealing the nearly empty, bland living room. He takes Felicia up the steps to the room next to his. Miguel carefully lowers Felicia down onto the large bed before leaving the room.

“Miguel!” Felicia shouts, prompting him to peek back into the room. 

“Yes?”

“I don't wanna be alone right now.” She reluctantly says, feeling vulnerable. 

Miguel frowns, “I know, I’m just gonna get a band, a towel to clean you up, and something for you to change into. Is that okay?”

Felicia hesitantly nods, waiting patiently for Miguel to return. 

“Here’s an old shirt and some boxers.” He hands her before sitting next to her on the bed, placing the band on her wrist before bringing the damp towel up to her face.

“Ouch!” Felicia winced and then scowled, pushing past the pain. “You trynna hurt me, asshole?” she grumbled.

The city's ambient light from the window revealed Miguel's subtle smile in the dark room. “Someone’s feeling better,” he chuckled as he applied a special healing paste, his touch gentle as he worked on the cuts and gashes on her face. “Alright, time to change,” he said after placing the last bandage over Felicia's chin.

Miguel began to stand to give Felicia some privacy, but before he could move too far, her hand tugged at his arm, pulling him back. “You never seen a woman before or somethin'?”

Miguel rolled his eyes with a hint of amusement. “Yeah, you're healed.”

Felicia couldn't help but break into a small, appreciative grin, even though wincing at the pain from her cuts. She pressed the spider emblem on her chest, causing her suit to loosen. Miguel averted his eyes, politely studying the plain walls of the room. Felicia then unclasped her bra before draping the comically large shirt over herself. She removed the rest of her clothing, donning Miguel's boxers that became concealed by the shirt.

“You can look.” She teases. 

“Anything else I can get you?” He asks as he fluffs the pillow on the bed. 

“You've done plenty. T-thank you.” She says, looking away to hide herself. 

Miguel’s head turns to look at the Spider-Woman. “I didn’t realize you had manners.” 

“I’m the one who almost died, remember?” She snaps, throwing a pillow at his face. 

Miguel gives in, letting her win this time. “You're welcome.” He replies. “Goodnight, Felicia.”

Felicia watched as Miguel walked to the door, and just before he could close it, she softly whispered, “Goodnight, Miguel.” Miguel turned back, giving Felicia a small, warm smile before closing the door and returning to his room.

That night, in the dimly lit penthouse, the two of them stayed up for well over an hour. Their rooms stood side by side as they both gazed out of the wall-length windows at the glittering lights of the city’s skyline. They didn't move, didn't utter a sound; they simply allowed the stillness to envelop them, lost in their own thoughts and the unspoken something that lingered in the air.

Chapter 6

A/N: I can’t wait to hear what you think!!!

Taglist: @leahnicole1219 @oscarissac2099

[sgiandubh]

Anon rebelde.

Si vas a delatar a alguien, o si vas a informar o discutir lo que escribe, lee tu mismo la publicación correspondiente

Tal vez alguien le tendría que decir a la señora de las iniciales en mayúsculas,SDLIM para abreviar, que se aplique el cuento porque su comprensión lectora deja mucho que desear y también que tenga cuidado con todos esos blogs fantasmas que tanto la aplauden, tal vez tenga entre ellos un caballo de Troya. El que avisa no es traidor, es avisador y por cierto, hacen muy buena pareja la caja roja de Nestlé y la negra de aviación 😉

Dear (returning) Anon Rebelde,

Su última comunicación ha molestado a mucha gente de enfrente, que aparentemente se quejaba de que nuestro diálogo era imposible de seguir. Sin embargo, estoy segura de que nuestras maravillosas hermanas shipper no tienen problemas para entender el tráfico de esta escena, lo cual, según me han dicho, también es muy apreciado. Para todos los demás usaré pictogramas:

(I am translating the above paragraph I wrote myself in Spanish as a courtesy to this valued guest, just so you know - across the street. This is also NOT something you ought to have a say in, on MY page) Your last submission has annoyed many people across the street, who apparently complained about our dialogue being impossible to follow. However, I am sure our wonderful shipper sisters have no trouble understanding the traffic of this stage, which I am also told is very much appreciated.

For all the others, I will use pictograms 🙄:

👮‍♀️Translation of Anon Rebelde's question follows. Fasten your seatbelts ❗

'If you are going to tattle on someone, or if you are going to report or discuss what they write, read the relevant post for yourself' Maybe someone should tell Block Letters Lady, BLL for short, to also practice what she preaches, because her reading comprehension leaves a lot to be desired, and also to be careful with all those sock accounts that applaud her so much, maybe there's a Trojan horse among them. Not a traitor, speaking: just a warner. And by the way, the red Nestlé box and the black aviation box make a very good couple 😉

​👮‍♀️Translation of Anon Rebelde's submission has now ended. You may safely proceed to the next level ❗

I am aware of the Baby Jesus' Belly Button Feast in there, too. That is strictly their problem, Anon Rebelde, but it's still hilarious to watch them pretend to be friends with each other, etc. I think all of this is very childish, but again, querida - we do things a bit differently, in here, and that is something that is not going to change. The red box was probably not Nestlé, but if you find it more fun, so be it.

And you are right, Red Box and Black Box like each other a lot, since Day 1, when Black Box welcomed Red Box like long lost family and immediately trusted her. Something Red Box was not expecting, so she was very moved & happy about it. Black Box + Red Box = Friends♾️, who root hard for each other, help each other and share a lot of things in DMs, too 😱.

(Remember: if you are not Julius Caesar or Marilyn Monroe, illeism is such a chichi rhetorical trick. And even if you are Julius Caesar - De Bello Gallico is such an obnoxious thing to translate, you wouldn't believe it.)

People are both a blessing and a curse, in this Strange Wasteland. I have met some of the kindest souls and some of the strangest twisted minds ever, in here. It really is mindboggling, yet by far the best side of this experience.

As for the Trojan Horse, well.... I don't get what you mean, but I trust their spies will.

May I risk a Miss Cleo prediction and foresee another salvo of Anons who'd throw the door open, enter in a frenzy, step on Bebe's tail, put their feet on the table and show me how pressure is properly done?

Let them.

I'd rather have you, Anon Rebelde. Doors can be slammed, too.

[ninjigma]

For 'Of Honor and Force', a Royalty AU Track: 'Second Child, Restless Child' - The Oh Hellos (Spotify / YouTube)

"And here I was, thinking that fighting tooth and nail to survive would finally give me an edge against you."

"Dull your edges, more like."

Quinlan made an exaggerated offended noise, hand grasping at his chest. Fox showed as much sympathy as usual though, and Quinlan didn't have more then a second to be dramatic before he was rapidly blocking quick movements.

Sharp and swift the two danced, feet sliding silently over grass and the sharp noises of metal echoing on the long forgotten ruins. The day was joyous, and Quinlan was thankful for it. He had missed his friend, and between being thrown off a mountain as a form of training and traveling an extra two weeks to get foreign noodles, he had been gone so much longer then he ever cared to be. And he hoped the rare foods would make up for the fact that he knew this time would be even longer still. The inevitable that he would leave, that Quinlan always left.

And he wished the burning in his chest was simply his lungs trying to keep up with the fight.

"And it seems my absence has made your aim a bit…" Quinlan lunged, using his height to Force Fox back rapidly so as not to fall. "Wild."

Fox sneered, and twisted rapidly, the sun bouncing off the sheen of his bare shoulders. "You think way too much of yourself."

"I think of you a lot too." Quinlan had dodged to the side and bowed slightly, hands splayed outward and relaxed even as Fox raised his rapier between them. "My dear prince-"

Fox's angry scoff was lost to the new flurry of movements. Quinlan had pushed enough buttons that their little fight had devolved into something that took a lot more attention, something that left them both beginning to breath heavier, tips of their weapons to scrape and scratch across their exposed torso's. Hair loose and forms tight, wrists twisting and bodies swaying. The grass bent beneath them as neither gave up ground, as they moved together like the currents that carried the storms.

Until Quinlan saw red.

The drip of it as it bubbled up, bright and angry. They had been twisting past each other, and Fox had ducked when Quinlan feigned an upward cut only to then fall low as well. His rapier had pierced the skin, a slash marring across the left side of Fox's chest. A long cut. Red.

In his shock he had hesitated, had hyper focused on that slowed moment his rapier flicked away, scarlet on the tip. He had his eyes on nothing but the wound he had given Fox, the hurt he had inflicted.

And Fox stood back to stance with ne'er a blink, lunged without any time lost, fast to slice Quinlan's sword out of his hand and plant one strong foot to the sternum of his off balanced opponent, flattening him into the ground beneath him.

"What the kriff was that?"

Finally, the knock of the ground chasing his breath away, Quinlan's eyes focused back on Fox's face. On how he was breathing hard, but wore only a look of confusion and annoyance rather then victory. "What?"

Fox huffed, rapier coming to hover just over the right side of Quinlan. "You hesitated. Why did you hesitate? You haven't been going easy on me have you? I swear Vos if you-"

"No no I-," Quinlan's eyes trailed down again. "You're bleeding."

Finally Fox seemed to take notice of the cut. With the iconic raise of one eyebrow his family was know for he flickered his attention to the wound, seemingly expecting it to be a trap perhaps, a distraction. But instead of the pain or anger Quinlan thought would come, the upset at being injured or the panic at the sight, Fox actually laughed. Outright chuffed and even smiled, looking back down to a startled Quinlan.

"Do you stop every time you give an enemy an ouchie?"

"Fox-"

"It is barely even bleeding, for kark's sake. Might scar a bit but-"

"Fox stop. I-"

"No, Quinlan." The rapier's tip lowered against Quinlan's skin, Fox managing to raise his chin even as he stared down hard. "You shut your mouth for once and know that, actually, I am not your dear prince. I am not some fragile thing. I brought the rapiers for a reason, and I am more then aware of the risks, we have been through this plenty of times. I wanted the fight, and it has been so much more fun then putting up with Cody's pointers and Bly's warnings."

Eyes now boring into Quinlan, Fox tilted his head down ever so slightly. "I trust you, even if you are such a fool that I am surprised you haven't gotten yourself killed yet. Got it?"

Quinlan blinked a moment, the silence derived from Fox's tone had been clear and left him in a moment of hesitation before speaking. "Yes sir."

Then that slick smile was back, and Fox was tilting his head like the most clever being in the world. "Besides, that was a pretty good attempt."

Quinlan raised his own brow, but otherwise didn't attempt to move, watching the light through the canopy dance on Fox's face. "Oh? A compliment?"

Fox shook his head, tight lips still smiling. "Pity actually. That is the closest you are ever going to get, shadow boy, and you blew it. Now get back up so I can kick your ass properly this time"

Finally, Quinlan's own smile broke across his face, a new confidence in his friend. The friend who complained about him, sneered at his courting, huffed at his stories. The same friend who came to the ruins every week to look for him despite the months he would never be there, the same friend who would sit with him late enough in the night that his family would be angry with him when he arrived back home, the same friend that he had just cut across the heart of only to receive a smile and an insult.

The same friend that now stepped back and swung the rapier away with such a poise that Quinlan had to simply gaze up a moment in awe from where Fox had laid him so thoroughly flat. That as the prince offered his hand and that sideways smirk, Quinlan once again couldn't believe how lucky he was for any of this. That taking Fox's hand and accepting the help up made his stomach flip in a very different way before once again taking up his rapier and facing Fox squarely.

Beneath the sun and bird song, a canopy of life and story, the prince of the shadows faced the fourth son of Fett and reaffirmed that, no matter what he came against, he would fight to his last breath for just this.

Because Quinlan always came back.

It was just supposed to be a lighting test but uhhhhhh... well, you can see for yourself XD

Enjoy!

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