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37-drc89 · 2 years ago

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the way things go; lee minho

❁ nothing warms your heart more than his presence.

trope: roommates to lovers.

genre: comfort, slight angst, work exhaustion, happy ending.

summary: finally understanding that your failure doesn't scare him away.

warnings: blood, mention of overprotective parent, family problems, let me know if i should put anything more in here.

word count: 3,7k.

masterlist

note: this is very much my first fic here, like, ever. i'm still green in tumblr, any links and mostly making posts look good, but i'll eventually master it. i look forward to seeing your opinions and things i can change or make better, i'll appreciate every comment. and, please remember that english is not my first language! if you see any typo or something doesn't make sense, please inform me! thank you:)

Coming back home on Friday after whole week of working your ass off really feels like a walk of shame. You feel like everyone passing by can tell how awfully you did at your workplace today. And they wouldn't be wrong, the amount of scolds your boss threw in your direction through past few days is worryingly numerous.

Whether it was missing out on paper work your boss asked you to do for him, because you were so sure the deadline was set on the day after, or accidentially knocking off of your desk whole cup of hot, sweetened tea that later on you had to scrap off of the covering, under the strict eye of the middle aged man that scared you so much. Especially with the amount of misfortune that chased after you lately, like it was glued to you.

Cringe makes its way to your face. You're shuffling your way to your apartment, not really in a hurry, feet lazily dragged after you as you didn't even have any strenght to properly lift them off the ground. You most likely look like you've been partying for at least three nights in a row, but you can't find it in yourself to care about it. Not now.

Seeing the building in which your apartment is placed have never felt so relieving and you can feel your legs giving up under your weight just at the thought of splashing on the bed and dozing off. Vision of passing out on the sidewalk doesn't seem appealing to you, so you rush yourself to the door, typing entrance code and walking into the elevator, stairs not even crossing your mind. Your tired body slumps itself against the wall as you patiently wait to get to the 6th floor, finding relief in having something to support yourself on. Finally getting to the door you can't help but feel excited, tapping your feet happily just at the thought of making up every hour of sleep you've missed this week because of your busy schedule. You slide the door open and the very first thing reaching your ears is eager meowing, three fur balls appearing at the entrance immediately. You can't help but smile, kneeling to give each of them gentle head pat before taking off the coat and shoes. This truly felt like a bliss, like you've just slid off a bag of stones off your back. Sigh leaves your mouth, heading to the kitchen you turn on the kettle as your tea craving grows with every second. Soonie appears next to you, sitting at the table just across from you. You've grown so friendly with your roommate's Minho's cats that neither you nor him have any problem with kitties occupying places people normally wouldn't let them sit on.

Then you freeze for a second.

You look at Soonie.

Soonie looks at you.

Your brows furrow and the cat goes back to whatever he was doing previously.

Fuck.

Minho is coming home today. He's been away for past five days due to his business trip, that was probably exhaustion fogging your mind enough to forget about this. He's coming back today. And your apartment looks like a bomb has been detonated right in the middle of it all. You can't risk him seeing how messy you got, Minho is always the one to put stuff at the right place, making his bed no matter in how much of a hurry he's in, always the one to do the dishes and basically make everything look perfect. You can't see him disappointed in you for such an easy thing, he'll think you don't even gather your life together. Not like you do, but it's nothing in his business, you shouldn't become another one of his problems. He's just your roommate and the only thing you share and should take care of is apartment that is now in complete mess. You can blame it on your lack of time, barely spending any time at your place recently, but that won't help in current situation.

Quick glance at the time, 4:23 pm, you reach out for your phone to scroll up the conversation with your friend to make sure how fast you have to act.

He's back in town at 5 pm. Could this possibly get any worse?

You scold yourself internally for letting this whole situation happen. But you don't have time to think about this now, and as you turn off the kettle you speedrun to the livingroom, gathering scattered clothes from all around the place. You blame it on Monday when you got up so late you didn't even have time for brushing your hair and of course, the shirt you were looking for was nowhere to be found. Out of all things, it was the one you needed that day.

Then you pick up empty cans of soda, bottles of water and cups of coffee from the table and quickly throw them into the dishwasher. You blame it on Tuesday, the night you realised you have to write that fucking paperwork you got scolded for missing on Monday. So you sat there for hours, head empty, taking breaks only when your tired tears started wetting your pages, scared that all your miserable efforts will be ruined.

Rushing to Minho's room you pick up blanket and pillows from his floor. You blame it on Wednesday, the day you were already on the edge of breaking down and giving up on your job. Even though the boy is only a roommate for you, you've grown so used to his presence you started finding peace in it. Even after the worst day you knew that someone will always be there waiting at your apartment to serve you cup of hot chocolate and bowl of ramen, to take your turn of folding laundry or just listen to how appaling your day was. But he wasn't home and it left you all to yourself which was never the best idea. So, seeking for at least tiny bit of comfort, you slept on his floor. That sounds so fucking stupid and weird when you think about it now, but just the aura Minho left in his room made you feel a bit closer to him. Reminds you of every time he invited you over to play some online games for 12 year olds or spill any tea that happened at his work. Though, you never wanted to interfere his private space, so sleeping in his bed didn't even cross your mind. Floor was just sufficient for you, and you let your tears flow that night, just as much as you needed it. You know he would understand. He might seem cold to others, but you know he would. He already unwrapped his side of him to you letting you see that truly, inside, he's softer than anyone you know; It's all for Soonie, Doongie and Dori. They really do get the best of Minho.

Going back to the kitchen, you gather empty boxes of instant ramen, snacks and every ready shop food that you could possibly find at the convenience store. You blame it on the whole week of rushing, not even having time to eat a proper meal. You can feel it down your stomach, body demanding anything that could properly feed it and give it any strenght to function as it should be functioning. Honestly, you can't recall the last time you didn't feel sick. Lump in your throat was your loyal companion since a week ago, constant urge to throw up not leaving your body even when you were falling asleep and you know you'll have to appreciate normal, nutritions food more.

You run around the apartment holding a wet towel, wiping quickly every mirror hung on the walls as you know nothing pisses Minho more than fogged glass. So you try your best to do it carefully, just like he does it. Reaching the last mirror placed in the front hall you eagerly wipe it, aware of your lack of time. Then it all happens at once.

Shitty food, lack of sleep, liters of coffee and ungodly amount of stress feel like kicking in all at once, like it's been gathering in your exhausted body for the whole week just for this one moment that you needed to be fucking careful.

Vision blurry, feet suddently tripping over itself, mind going blank just for a second, but second is enough for you to try holding yourself onto the small table placed right under the mirror and shaking it so hard when sudden thump reach your ears, followed by loud sound of shattered glass. You don't want to look. Because you're fully aware of what just happened. You don't want to look but you do. Eyes landing on the remains of now broken vase, water all over the floor, flowers that were resting inside it now cut in half and completely soaked.

And it was Minho's favourite vase. The first and the last thing he always glanced at when leaving or coming back home, admiring its beauty, pretty patterns, unique shape and the prettiest flowers inside. Flowers that he got for his 25th birthday that passed not so long ago from his dearest best friend Jisung. Flowers that he was so happy to receive, first thing he did after coming home that day was showing them to you, proudly, ranting about how they perfectly suit the room. And you ruined it all.

Your body slides slowly on the wet floor, water soaking your pants on your knees and you support yourself on the palms of your hands not to completely fall into the mess. You feel small pieces of glass ripping open your delicate skin of your hands, small streams of blood making their way to the floor, mixing with spilled water but you couldn't care less. Elbows start to shake under the weight of your body, shoulders tensing and your head falls, your own quiet sobs reaching your ears. It quickly turns into uncotrollable groans and whines, tears now flowing down your face with no end, nose already full, loose hair stick to your now completely soaked cheeks.

And you blame it on yourself. You could seek for anything to put his all on, like your boss, for making you feel useless for not even managing to do your fucking job properly and assigning you more work than anyone else in your department. Or your mother for not teaching you how to manage your time and how to function on your own, her overprotectiveness during your childhood and teenage years showing so often that you never even got any time to learn adult life before stepping into it. But you know it isn't their fault, no matter how hard you try to think that it is. You let yourself into this situation. You let yourself be in the state you're currently in. You didn't try hard enough to make yourself a decent person. There's no one you can blame but you.

Your endless cries must've muffled the sound of door cracking open, eyes reaching only feet of your roommate that was now standing at the entrance. You couldn't look up, even if you wanted to, you couldn't look Minho in the eyes. Not when he's witnessing your failure and the mess you made out of something so dear to him.

Meanwhile Minho stood there, body frozen, gazing at your tiny figure splashed on the floor, shoulders shaking. He doesn't even notice the crashed vase at first, your current state drawing all his attention immediately to you.

He doesn't give himself any time to think much longer about what's happening in his front hall right now, dropping bags he's been holding in his right hand and suitcase on his left and appearing at your side the second after, kneeling by your vulnerable body on the floor.

"Hey, hey.." Minho lightly lays his hand on your shaky back, carefully caressing it to soothe you. "Easy now, I'm here."

The only respond he gets is your dramatic, loud sob ripping out of your heavy chest. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Minho... Is the only thing you could get out of yourself, followed by another set of pretty disgusting, wet cries.

"Are you hurt? Let me see your hand, please," your roommate asked quietly not to scare you after noticing red coloured drops beside your knees. Gently, he took your harmed hands into his and studied small pieces of glass stuck in your skin. "Let's get it cleaned, okay?"

His hand makes its way to your waist and he stands up slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves that could put you in pain. He shuffles you to the bathroom and helps you sit on the toilet seat and starts preparing alcohol and wet towels.

You feel pathetic.

Not only you ruined his special item, something so important and beautiful, but now he has to take care of someone that caused all the damage. You feel helpless once again, like you couldn't do anything fucking right for once. Once.

Your caring roommate starts removing glass shatters from your wound, his tongue sticking out a bit from the corner of his mouth, fully concentrated in his task. He knows that if his hands twitch even a little bit, he might hurt you even more, and let me tell you, his hands are trembling. He can't recall a situation when he saw you in such state.

You always seem tough, tough against any misfortune that meets you. You surely talk to him when you need some shoulder to lay on, about your worse days and he's cautious enough to notice when you're exhausted. But he's never seen you at your breaking point, starting to believe you don't have any. Yet you're here, in front of him, not even being able to speak properly. He can't help but feel kind of relieved at the whole situation knowing that your hard, protective shell cracked a little bit, letting him see something he's never seen in you before. Weakness.

"This might sting a bit," Minho informs you as he presses alcohol soaked paper to your wound. Whimper leaves your mouth at the unpleasant feeling and you hang your head down. He quickly wraps bandage around your hand and clasps it between his warm palms.

"Hey, you don't have to worry about that the hall. I'll take care of it, okay?" He tries to lower himself, kneeling in front of you, so he can get a better glimpse of your puffed face. You shake your head and straighten your back, looking at him with serious expression.

"No." You sniff, "No, I broke it, I broke something so important to you and it's my fault. I'll clean it. I'll buy you a new one, the same one, I promise Minho."

His hands make their way to your back, slowly, eyes remaining on you for any sign of discomfort. When you sneakily lean into the touch, Minho pulls your body entirely towards his, clasping your weak figure into his arms and sways you left and right, wanting to feel your muscles relax in his embrace.

"What's wrong, hm? My roommate senses are tingling," his voice muffles itself by pressing his mouth against your shoulder, "Talk to me, y/n, please?"

"I had the worst week ever here, without you."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You just shake your head no, holding onto his waist tighter than ever. You feel him nod. His calm aura pulls you in completely, feeling like walking into hot building during snowy, cold winter. Your cheeks warm up, pressing right below his neck, his body warmth transferring itself to you.

"It's lowkey weird." You choke out, coughing right after because of how stuffed your poor throat felt.

"What is?"

"You comforting me while I'm sitting on a toilet seat."

You manage to let out throaty chuckle to light the atmosphere up, however, you can't help the warm stream of tears flowing right after.

"Want to move it to the livingroom?" Minho pulls out of the hug slightly, setting his gaze at your red face again and your eyes make their way to the floor. You still haven't looked him in the eyes, not even once, as you're scared of the wave of guilt that will follow. As if the one you're feeling right now isn't enough. You feel like a child scared to get shouted at by their parents.

Minho crouches down in front of you and you hum in question, brows furrowed. He only gestures with his hand for you to hop onto his back, already positioning your legs on his hips. You groan but don't protest, you know how Minho is and you know fighting him is hopeless. Wrapping your arms around his next securely and glueing your chest onto his back, you melt into the warmth of his body. He stands up, feeling your breath tickling the skin behind his ear and smiling to himself, noticing how it got much steadier than it was before. He leads both of you out the bathroom and again, the sad view of Minho's favourite vase on the floor, not really looking any similar to vase anymore, hits you, shoving another wave of guilt through your nerves. You close your eyes and rest your forehead on your roommate's shoulder.

"I'm truly, so, so sorry Minho. I never meant to do this, I was just trying to make the place look presentable for you and it ended like it always does." the words left your mouth as quiet squeak, taking another deep breath before speaking again; "Yet you still have to clean the mess I did, like you always do. I don't deserve it, I don't deserve you. I failed being your perfect roommate."

"Who said I wanted a perfect roommate?" he asks as you reach your shared couch, carefully laying you on it then sitting by your side, facing you. "You think I'm mad at you, but I'm not. I've broken like five vases in my life and none of this was anything I planned, just like you."

You finally find some strenght in yourself to raise your gaze and lock it at his round, dark eyes. And he's right, no matter how intensively you look into them, you can't find even a tiny bit of anger in them, they sparked with understanding and you find yourself feeling bad at even thinking someone this precious could get so mad at you. They were so pure you could see your ugly, messed up reflection in them. Before you could start thinking about this again, his eyes squinted a little bit as corners of Minho's lips curled upwards in the most beautiful, sincere, affectionate smile you've ever seen. You only realised that his hand was placed on your trembling knee when you felt his fingers caressing it softly, sending warm shiver through your whole body.

"What about the flowers? You loved them..." You turned around to take a glimpse of the mess once again but Minho quickly grabbed your chin with only pads of his fingers and made you look back at him. "I'll take over from here, you get rest now."

Just as he was about to stand up from the couch you grabbed him by his sleeve and almost agressively pulled him right into your arms, crashing in the tightest, breath taking hug as you truly couldn't believe you had him by your side. Just when you thought you crossed his boundaries by that sudden action and started to loose your grip on him, he dragged you right back to him like he was waiting for this moment to happen. His heart pressed to yours, he definitely could tell how fast and heavy its beating right now. Both of yours eyes closed, you just enjoyed this such intimate moment, very first one since you've moved in together. Neither you or him dare to make a move in fear of ruining this beautiful scene.

"Thank you," you murmur into his neck, so quietly you're not even sure he heard it. "only you can endure me as your roommate. How are you not tired of this?" Chuckle leaves your mouth but you quickly tone it out in case he responds, Well, I am actually tired.

"Because you're the only one that can endure me, too." He pulls out of the hug, though he doesn't move too far away, being so close to your face you could feel his minty breath on your nose. "I guess it's just the way things go."

Next thing your brain processes is his perfect lips landing on yours in swift motion. Suprisingly they're not rough, not even a little bit, they're so soft you barely feel them at first. Your heart goes up your throat for a mere second, dropping back down the moment he caress your cheek gently with his warm hand, now covered in the tiniest layer of sweat caused by the adrenaline. When your body finally understands what's going on, you lean into him completely, hand going up on the back of his head, tangling into his soft, dark hair and Minho takes is as a sign to continue, now pressing his lips onto yours with more force, making sure you feel them properly. A sigh of relief leaves both of your mouths and you smile into the kiss. When you eventually just slightly pull away from each other, faces still close, you notice new emotion making its way into his eyes, overtaking the rest as he studies every part of your face carefully. It's love. His eyes are full of love. Its so intense like it just have been freed from his chest after months of hiding in the deepest corners of his heart.

There's still so much you don't know about him and there's so much he doesn't know about you, but the gate has opened now and there's no turning back. You don't know what any of this means yet, but you can think of it tomorrow. Or in a month. Or in a year.

For now it's just you and him. And that's what matters the most in the world.

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holy-muffins · 5 months ago

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I don't have any reach at all but today I think qualifies as a red line day for folks. The administration is attempting to essentially turn off medicaid and other federally funded aid programs in the US via an executive order. Please call your representatives ESPECIALLY if you do NOT depend on things like food assistance, medicaid, etc.

This administration gets off on cruelty, so stating that you are not affected by this will limit their joy at the calls rolling in AND remind them people are watching.

You can look up phone numbers here

Call and let them know that they:

1. Must treat this as a red line over reach of executive branch and they must work to see these funds are paid out properly

2. Be forceful when saying you do not benefit from the program but that your friends and neighbors do

3. Call both senators and your rep. When they ask for a zip code give it, and say that you are calling all of your reps today.

4. Again! Remind them that this spending has been federally mandated by Congress

If you are nervous you can leave a voicemail but I recommend leaving a VM and attempting to get through to someone.

Please see if you can get some of the Big Folks here on tumblr to see this.

Please do not be too mean to me if I could have worded any of this better.

Please add on with good information.

#call your reps #call your senators #please reblog

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miku-earth · 9 months ago

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miku.earth update: September 15

Hi all! This is a lil progress update for those interested. In a rush? Here's the cliff notes!

The map site at miku.earth is back: sorry for the delay in fixing it! Check it out: it has six hundred Mikus!

Including the hyuge ol' queue, we've collected over 3,100 mikus!

Representation is important! I've been using some fancy stats to avoid bias. To that end, please help make sure we have a Miku in every African country!

oh hey! you clicked 'keep reading!' well hi! here is your Miku Direct. . The map site, miku.earth, is back!

I ran into a kinda complex issue and it was a whole Thing. I was working on the site the whole time though! Sorry for the delay, and I hope you enjoy now it's back up and running.

This site has six hundred Mikus on the map, and more are added each week. It was recently rebuilt from scratch (fun fact! I am not a web developer) so I hope it is far zippier and less glitchy as before. A mobile-friendly version is coming soon too!

Also: check out the new search feature! In addition to the title, artist name and region(s), it can also search for the categories indigenous and historic!

cw: this video involves moving around a 2D map with some speed. on the site itself site, this only happens when you hit the Enter key.

We've reached more than 3,100 mikus!

Even at its Miku-per-hour speed, the queue will continue until 2025 at least! This is with thanks to an incredible number of contributions, including donations of literal thousands of links.

Thank you so much to @awnowimsad, @worldmikuposter @the-hatsune-miku-trend, @communist-hatsunemiku, @council-of-beetroot, L-A and a whole host of DMers and emailers for helping get this far.

Oh and by the way: over two thirds of the collection are tumblr posts! Given that this was originally a twitter trend… if you know any Twitter users who are into this trend, please reach out. Some napkin math tells me there are at least 10,000 works of art total out there, which is, by the way, surreal. Let's make sure not a single one is lost.

If you're super curious, the collection is public! I have some tools to auto-annotate (I do not want RSI), but be aware the backlog isn't vetted.

Representation is important!

Fun as this trend is, this project was always intended as a serious study into how people represent their own culture through artwork. I'm no anthropologist, but I feel it is important to make sure this collection is respectful and bias-free. If we're to represent the world, we have to avoid underrepresentation!

To that end I've used some fancy statistics to calculate a "representation value" for each country. Here's a table if you're into the stats of it! This info is handy to help me with the queue – especially with tweets as they're a lil more effort than a carefully-tagged reblog. Of course, Indigenous, hyperspecific and low-note Mikus get priority.

And, well, of course you can see on the site there are purple regions for countries still missing a Miku. In particular, please help me make sure every country in Africa is represented.

Thank you for reading!

Phew! That was a lot. If you're still curious, please check the behind-the-scenes and source code. I work in the open! Even if my code is probably messy.

And if you're a programmer, issues and pull requests are welcome! This is actually a static site, so it's purdy easy to develop.

#meta #hatsune miku #miku worldwide #world miku #regional miku #cultural miku

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stevetonydatingsim · 3 months ago

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Steve/Tony dating sim sign-up info & FAQ

If you haven't heard the news, there's going to be a free Steve/Tony multiverse dating game! (If you have heard the news, bear with us—this is a new announcement because we've updated a few things). Follow us on Tumblr to get the latest updates on development and launch and/or hang out with us on Discord as we make the game!

About the game

The Steve/Tony multiverse dating sim (name TBD) will be a visual novel-style game that’s mostly dialogue with some simple minigames thrown in. You'll play as a Steve or Tony from one of the many universes that exist who’s thrown into a rift in reality with a bunch of other Steves and Tonys. You’ll get to decide whom to work with to invent, fight, flirt, and date your way back home.

Who we are

We're a team of passionate Steve/Tony fans who have come together to write and illustrate the dating game of our dreams, coded by the wonderfully talented @v-thinks-on. You can read more about us here.

How this works

In order to make the game, we need writers, artists, and more. Here's a brief summary of the process:

Love interest route writers script a story arc for the player character to go on if the player selects that writer’s love interest character to date. Love interest route writers can write both the love interest and player character's dialogue on their own or with a partner(s).

Artists create the visuals of the game, including character art, backgrounds, and more, based on the scripts.

Once we have all the scripts and art, our coders will put the game together.

For a more detailed overview of the game-making process and each team role, please refer to our FAQ.

How to apply to the team

Please email [email protected] with the following information:

Confirmation that you’re over 18 (just let us know you’re 18+; we’re not asking you to share personal info)

The best way(s) to contact you

And depending on which role you want to apply for, please include:

Writers

What character you’d like to write for (universe and name). If you have multiple, please order by preference. To help you choose, here is a list of universes we have writers for and available universes (if you want a universe not on this list, that means it's available)!

Do you want to write alone or with a partner(s)?

A writing sample focusing on Steve and Tony (link, attachment, or text in the email body), ideally with a good amount of dialogue. This doesn’t have to be a complete piece with a beginning, middle, and end; it's more to get a sense of your style and understanding of characterization, so all we ask is that it’s easy to follow. This can be something you’ve already written or you can write something new for this application. We don't have a minimum word requirement; if we need more from you, we'll let you know

Artists

We'll be sharing an interest check soon, so if you're an artist, watch this space! If you're not on Tumblr much and you're afraid of missing out, contact us and we'll add you to our mailing list

People with other skills

If you have any other skills that you think will help make the game better (for example, you’re a musician and you’d love to produce music for the game or you're a coder who'd love to help @v-thinks-on), get into contact with us.

Please don’t hesitate to contact us if you have any questions (don't forget our FAQ!). You can reach us by email, Discord, Tumblr Messenger, askbox, Twitter DM, or Bluesky DM. Thank you!

#stevetony #steve/tony #stony #superhusbands #steve rogers #tony stark #fandom games #dating sim #stevetonydatingsim

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feelmyskinonyourskin · 5 months ago

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April 15th

Character: Frank Castle (a little Frank x Matt Murdock if you squint)

My Masterlist

Summary: Based on my calculations, this spring will be the canonical 10 year anniversary of the death of Frank's family. So I wrote an angsty thing about it. This is also a lil Fratt coded.

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on Tumblr to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platforms I currently post on are Tumblr and AO3. Thanks!*

WC: 2,692

Ten Years

Those two words rung in his ears on repeat over and over again.

Very few people were in the park this early, still cozy in bed as the city began to wake. But sleep was never something he found easily, especially this time of year. A few early morning joggers passed by, barely noticing the tired looking man as he sat on the bench, staring ahead. It was off-leash time in the park as well and he gave the sweet black lab that sat beside him a few pats before it ran off to rejoin it’s owner.

He stared at the green tarp in front of him, blank expression on his face as the sun rose and painted the park in golden light. The air was crisp and the dew clung to the growing grass on the hill in the distance. It was free of the crimson stains that haunted his sleep, long since washed away with the passage of time.

Ten Years

The click-clack of heels against the pavement, louder with each step as they approached him, almost tore his gaze away from the covered structure in front of him and the hill in the distance.

Almost.

The source of the percussive walking sat down beside him. She tucked a loose wisp of her blonde hair behind her ear before reaching out, offering him a to-go cup from the bakery down the street. He took it without a word and without turning his gaze to her.

“Brought you coffee.” she said softly

How did she know where to find him? There were a number of places he could be - the cemetery was obvious, or in an alleyway bloodying some poor lowlife, or drinking his sorrows away in whatever apartment he was squatting in for the time being. Was she looking for him long? Or just got lucky and picked the right spot? Was she just stopping by on her way to work or planning on staying beside his pitiful ass all day?

“Thanks, Karen.” he finally replied, quietly

They sat in silence together for a while, staring as the city and the park came more to life. Eventually, she reached out and took his free hand in hers with a squeeze.

“You have my number, Frank. I know you’ll act like you don’t need anything, but please call or text me if you do. You know I don’t mind.”

He replied with a nod.

“I gotta get to work.”

He nodded again.

She let her hand fall away from his and stood. With care, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and the tapping of her heels faded away.

Ten Years

Just as the school groups seemed to be arriving in the park for their springtime field trips and the tourists filed in with their cameras pointed towards the blooming trees, two more people arrived.

Two Central Park employees, dressed head to toe in forest green uniforms, began removing the tarp he had spent all morning staring at and opening the carousel for business for the day.

They had repainted it in the years since he had lost his family. Probably after he stained it with Billy’s face. The colorful animals shone with fresh lacquer against the spring sunshine. A line had already begun to form with families eager to ride. The employees finished their rounds then the music started up. The same music the nauseatingly played over and over in his mind.

“You know it’s creepy for an old dude to just sit and stare at a kiddy ride all day.” the voice from beside him said, sitting down on the park bench

“Pft. Don’t wanna hear it from you about being ‘creepy,’ Lieberman,” Frank replied, still watching as the carousel began to spin around and around for the first riders of the day.

“Honestly, wouldn’t have remembered what day it was if Sarah hadn’t reminded me.”

“How is Sarah? And the kids?”

“Good. Zach is officially committed to NYU in the Fall and Leo is already packing for an internship she has in Italy this summer.”

“That’s great David. Really.”

“How are you, Frank?”

Frank replied with only a shrug before taking a sip of the last of the coffee from Karen.

The two men sat side by side for a while, watching the carousel get busier and busier. David slapped two hands on his knees and rose to his feet.

“Welp. I gotta get going. You know where to find us Frank.”

Ten Years

As the day wore on, families came and went. People laid blankets on the hill, enjoyed picnics on the cool April day. He saw so many kids that reminded him of Lisa and Frankie, running around joyfully without a care in the world. So many mothers that passed by he swore he saw a glimmer of Maria for a moment.

He didn’t notice how the sun now beat down, heating the skin under his thick jacket. He didn’t notice hunger growing inside his stomach or the discomfort of how he’d been sitting in the same position for a little too long.

“Keep staring like that Frank and the park is gonna paint you bronze. Make you a permanent statue here.”

“Hey Curt.”

“You’d make a helluva ugly statue, Frank.”

“Yes I would.”

The man sat beside him in the same spot where David and Karen had before, placing a brown paper bag between them. He let out a sigh as he watched his friend continue to be lost in the memories.

“You eat anything yet today?”

Frank shook his head.

“Ain’t hungry.”

“C’mon Frank, you gotta eat something” He said, shaking the bag in the air “I brought sandwiches. From that shitty deli you like.”

“You come to just lecture me –”

“No, I came to be a friend,” Curtis cut him off “And get your sorry ass out of your own damn head.”

“Preciate it Curt, I really do, but I ain’t looking for anything today. Just let me be.”

“Fine. But only if you eat.”

Frank gave a half nod as Curtis opened the bag and handed Frank a sandwich. The men sat in silence and ate for a while, continuing to watch the families come and go.

When the last bite of his sandwich was gone, Curtis stood and gave his friend a clap on the back.

“I’ll see you at group on Thursday?” he asked

“Yeah.”

“Promise you’ll be there and not sulking in some alleyway somewhere bashing some guy’s head in?”

“Ain’t makin’ no guarantees.”

Ten Years

As the sun began to get low, many of the families cleared out, anxious to get home to dinner and an evening of relaxing. The post 9-5 runners now passed by in droves as the air began to cool back down.

Once again the clack clack clack of heeled shoes echoed somewhere in the background of Frank’s thoughts.

“Well Castle, you look like shit.”

“Good to see you too, Madani.”

The woman, with her curly hair blowing gently in the breeze and polished briefcase tucked under her arm, sat on the bench beside him with a sigh.

“Curtis said you were in rough shape, so I stopped by.”

“You talk to Curtis?”

“You’re not the only one who needs someone to talk through all the shit we’ve seen.”

“That’s good – yeah real good” Frank said with a nod, wringing his hands “Say, you ever come back here?”

“To where I got shot in the head? No.” she replied with a snort

After a moment of pause, she cleared her throat. Her eyes remained cast toward the pavement as her feet shuffled against it anxiously.

“Why do you come back?” she asked with a certain quietness to her voice

“To remember. Them. Him. Why I do what I do. Cause some sick twisted part of me thinks if I just stare at that damn carousel long enough or look at the stupid field hard enough, I’ll just see em’ coming over the hill, smiling at me like they were on that day. That if aliens can invade this damn city or make half of us disappear for five years then maybe somethin’ll happen and it’ll all have just been a bad dream and…”

Frank could feel tears welling in his eyes for the first time that day.

“... and maybe I could have ‘em back.”

Dinah pretended not to notice the way Frank wiped at his eyes as he continued to stare ahead at the carousel. She had avoided gazing at it at all since she’d arrived and had no intention of starting now.

“You know Frank, you ever need a distraction from��” she gestured vaguely “... all this. CIA could still use a guy like you.”

“Told you Madani, I ain’t coming to work for you. ‘Preciate the offer though.”

“Offer will still be there, if you ever change your mind.”

She sat for another moment, before gathering her bag and tightening the belt on her crisp trench coat.

“Take care, Frank.”

“You too, Dinah.”

Ten Years

The sun was now long gone as the carousel took it’s last spin of the night. The late hour meant very few children were even still there to ride; most of the families and tourists and runners had gone home.

The two evening shift employees came out from their hut minutes later, sweeping the area of debris and re-covering the carousel in the green tarp. They finished up their duties and also headed out, leaving Frank alone in the yellowy glow of the park lamps.

But still, he sat, not sure what he was waiting for anymore or how much longer he planned to stay. Any other person would have felt alone in the quiet of the night, but his head was still buzzing as loudly as when he arrived this morning. He nearly gasped at the air filling his lungs, so overwhelmed in his grief, he’d forgotten to breathe for a moment.

Only when the clang of metal scraping concrete rang out from just below his feet did he startle out of his trance.

Nervously, he reached down to inspect what had landed just beneath where he sat, flashbacks to enemies coming for him with a pipebomb or grenade running through his brain.

The maroon baton shone under the lamplight as Frank held it up, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips.

“Jesus, Red. The hell you tryin’ to do?!”

“Warn you that I’m here so you don’t accidentally shoot me,” a voice replied from the darkness behind him

“Still considerin’ it…”

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen made his way around the bench, hands held up in surrender.

“Ya know most people just say ‘hello’ or walk real loud if they don’t wanna startle someone.”

Matt shrugged, with a glimmer of mischief to the smirk poking out from under his mask. Frank rolled his eyes.

“Karen mentioned…” the man in crimson changed the subject

“Course she did…”

“I just wanted to come by. Make sure –”

Frank cut him off.

“Make sure I wasn’t spillin’ some criminal’s blood too close to your turf? Came by to try and convert me to your shitty code —”

Matt now took his turn to cut Frank off.

“No. I came by to make sure you were okay.”

“Ain’t exactly peg you as the sentimental type, Red.”

“Well, I mean, I am Catholic…”

Frank let out a scoff and shook his head, leaning back. Matt took the vague gesture as an invitation and sat beside him, removing his horned helmet.

“You know every year —on the day my dad died, I usually go to church.”

He felt the way Frank shifted rigidly beside him; unsure if it was the topic of death, or his personal past, or religion that made the large Marine beside him uncomfortable.

“It’s the one where he took me when I was a kid and where I grew up after he was gone,” he continued “But I do this too. Just sit and think and miss him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And for the longest time, I did it alone. I turned away everyone who came to help me; the other kids, the nuns, eventually Karen and Foggy.”

Frank shook his head at Matt’s story, always annoyed at his ramblings on a normal night but extra irritated on this particular evening.

“There a point to this?” Frank asked.

“Getting there. I spent so many years isolating myself, dividing myself from the people that cared. I thought I could do it all alone.”

Frank parted his lips, tempted to make another snarky comment, but he decided against it, letting Matt get out whatever he needed to in those hopes it’d make him go away faster.

“I lied to myself for a long time that the people who got close to me were better off without me and the danger I bring. That I was God’s perfect soldier, meant to suffer alone for my great purpose.” Matt continued

“So what changed?”

“Time. And people who were more stubborn than me and refused to give up on me. They helped me realize I needed them. And that I was only pushing them away to avoid getting hurt myself.”

“So that it, huh? You refusin’ to give up on me?” Frank scoffed

“Something like that.”

Frank shook his head.

“So what do you do now?”

“Hm?”

“The day your dad died, Red. What do you do?”

Matt smiled at Frank’s question and stretched his head upwards, glassy eyes shifting side to side as if trying to see his father in the sky above.

“I still go to the church. But Karen and Foggy come with me. Sometimes my mom walks over from the abbey and brings food.”

Frank’s eyebrows shot up at the statement, more surprised to find out that Matt’s mother was a nun and wondering the story of how that all worked. But he stayed silent and let Matt continue.

“And you know what? I don’t feel angry anymore; at him or the man that killed him or God. And little by little, every year since it gets a little–” He paused, trying to find the right word. “Lighter.”

“Look Red, I appreciate the sermon but I ain’t you.”

“No, but you’re one good day away from being me.”

Frank fully rolled his eyes this time and muttered a “Christ” under his breath, agitated that Matt could use his words from years ago when they first met and flip them around on him.

“You wanna know what else I do?”

“What?”

“After I let myself be with the people who care, I go home to my apartment. Alone. A few years ago Karen found videos of some of his old fights on the internet. My dad was a boxer. I listen to them and I drink.”

“That sounds more my speed, Red.”

“What do you say Frank, wanna go watch some old boxing matches and drink?”

Frank pondered the offer for a moment.

“No. I got some other places I gotta be.”

“Right.”

Matt removed the helmet from his lap and brought it down on his head, wiggling it a few times to get it in place and stood.

“Take care, Frank.” Matt said with a nod

“You too, Red.”

Frank watched as Matt disappeared into the shadows of the park. With a sigh, he finally stood, taking one last look at the carousel before heading down the path out of the park. He walked for blocks, still mulling over Matt’s words as he made his way down the empty sidewalks.

By the time he reached Hell’s Kitchen, he finally felt cold, zipping up his jacket to protect from the chilly night.

When he finally reached his destination, he hesitated for a moment. Taking in the large red doors in front of him, he wasn’t sure why he had come or what he was hoping to find. But if it helped Red, maybe it could help him.

Frank reached forward and pushed open the door, stepping into the chapel at Clinton Church.

Ten Years

#frank castle #the punisher #jon bernthal #matt murdock #daredevil #nmcu #fratt #frank x matt #frank castle x matt murdock #angst

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six-improbable-things · 1 month ago

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*For the purposes of this poll, I'm considering "meow" to be any vocal sound (i.e., not a purr or hiss/growl).

Please tell me more about your kitties in the reblogs/replies/tags!! (Pictures and videos extremely welcome.)

This is brought to you by my 4 cats who span quite a range. We have:

Sylvie meows a TON, and always sounds very insistent about it, but we have yet to crack the code of what she wants when she does.

Loki meows a lot, for many reasons, but the reasons are usually distinguishable (wants attention, wants his brother to come find him, sees a bug and can't reach it, sees a bird, etc.).

Charlie is quieter than his brother, but will meow for Specific Reasons (sees a bird, wants Loki to come play, my dad is ignoring him, as a greeting, etc.).

And then there's Ollie, who I have literally ONLY heard meow while in a carrier on the way to the vet.

Bonus Mention of the Old Kitty, Lucky (RIP), who meowed decently often, but mostly when she wanted dinner. Or she'd use her Baby-Cry Meow (we're almost certain she was half siamese) to let you know that she was going to puke. And when she got old and developed Kitty Dementia, she would howl all night. :'(

#cats #cats of tumblr #cat #cat owner #polls #random polls #tumblr polls #cats <3 #my polls #cat tag #reblog for sample size

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allthingsteddy · 3 months ago

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Claiming is now open!

Grab a prompt and lets show some love to 🧸Teddy Lupin💙 by creating a fic, art or any other fan-work centered around this character.

You can claim prompts until Mar 31 📅

Prompt List: https://airtable.com/appLI5ShXhBDNb3uL/shrOWPHkAdf7pEfoG

Rules for claiming:

You can claim one prompt + one back-up if the first choice is already taken.

In case both options will be taken, we will contact you via e-mail/tumblr.

One prompt can be claimed for fic and art/other.

If you have question or suggestion, please reach to us!💙

#teddy lupin #hp fests #jeddy #harry potter next generation #hp next gen #harry potter #hp fest #tedoire #hp events #hp fandom

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boraluv · 6 months ago

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hello tumblr army! I'm relatively new here after falling down the rabbit hole (hehe) earlier this year of 2024. (almost the end of this year now- wild!) it's been years- maybe 10?!- since I've done any sort of true creative writing but the drabbles + series I've seen have sucked me in and I wanted to give it a try. the idea for this fic comes somewhat from this series, which was truly so well done.

anyhow...I'll leave you all with part of the opening pages. should I post more? flesh it out to a full drabble? try my hand at an actual (short) series??? tell me, plz- and of course, feedback + edits are welcome!

xoxoxo.

______________________________________________________

She's a Pro Writer (idk this title literally just came to me as I'm posting HAHA)

Genre: Fluff, Headcanon Pairings: None...yet! I have an idea in mind tho. Also, this is from a Female First Person POV but bc I hate the formatting of Y/N writing, our Female OC is named!

Summary: Burnt out on adulthood only a few years into it, a surprising contest win may be just the thing to bring new light (and maybe love?) to your weary soul

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Prologue Preview

Pushing up your sunglasses onto your head and your purse further up your shoulder, you grab the handle of the red grocery cart, turning into Trader Joe’s. Winter seems to be dragging on longer than normal this year, although perhaps it’s just the mental strain of adulthood; another year of paying bills, buying groceries, and trying to stay generally sane. Normally, you grocery shop at stores with a lower price-point, but every so often, you let yourself splurge on a trip to the wonderful world of TJ’s.

Phone in hand, you sigh and open the notes app. “Ok, spinach, carrots, and tangerines first…” you mutter to yourself, moving past a cute kid staring at you in a cart while their mother rummages in the pre-bagged salads.

Acquired items safely in your cart, you push onward. “Next, eggs.” You pull a carton out of the cooler and open the top, checking the white ovals. Spotting a cracked egg, you close the cardboard container and put it back. Reaching for another carton, you halt when your pocketed phone buzzes with an incoming call. Expecting it to be spam, you prepare your thumb to silent the call, but pause as recognition flashes though your memory at the sight of a foreign phone number.

Dear Valued ARMY membership holder, Congratulations! You have made it to the final round of the “songwriting with bts” contest. We have been overwhelmed by the many talented applicants, and are thrilled to share your idea is in the top 10. Please know that whatever comes next, your skill with words is admirable, and the Bangtan Management Team for this project has thoroughly enjoyed what you shared in your application. If you are selected for this project, you will receive a call from a Korean number (country code +82) in the next 48 hours to announce your selection and confirm you moving forward with us. Please know that regardless of your final placement, you have done well to place in the top 10 of over 150,000 applications. We thank you for your investment in this project, and your continued support of BTS and their art. Sincerely, Bangtan Management

You blink your eyes in quick succession, the moment at hand coming back into focus.

It, it can’t be… could it?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

okayyyyy that's my teaser. anyone interested in more of this?! comment/like/reblog plz if so!

#bts #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts scenarios #bts fluff #new bts fanfic #bts jin #bts yoongi #bts hoseok #bts namjoon #bts jimin #bts taehyung #bts jungkook

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escapadecon · 6 months ago

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[In-Person Escapade 35] A Little Bad News and A Lot of Good News

Hello, friends!

We have great news for you further down, but first, important hotel stuff! The bad news is that the hotel broke our group code for several days. Any reservations made during that time won’t count toward our contracted total. If we don’t reach our total, it could mean big fines for the con.

The good news is, it’s fairly easy for us to change your room to the group rate: all we need is the first and last name your reservation was booked under, and we can arrange for the hotel to switch you over.

Even if our rate may seem higher than the rate you booked, we confirmed with the hotel that it’s probably not. We negotiated some incredible concessions for our rate:

All reservations (including ours) have $16 per night added to them upon check-in. This is a hospitality tax implemented by the city of L.A. and is not reflected in the website rates. However, reservations booked through our group rate will have this secret extra charge removed upon check out. So please add $16 per night to the rate you reserved when comparing it to our group rate.

Many of you were concerned about the high deposit for incidentals pre-authorized on your credit or debit card last year. We initially negotiated a $250 cap on this for the whole stay, but now the hotel has agreed to waive the deposit entirely for rooms booked under our group code this year.

Regular parking cost at the hotel is going up this year to $60 per night. For rooms booked under our rate this year, it’s only $20 per night. If you’re planning on bringing a car, you’ll want your room booked under our rate. (Fair warning, part of the deal to get the deposit waived means you’ll pay the parking bill upfront as a separate charge from the room.)

Rooms booked under our group code are cancellable until the night before the convention. Other rates generally don’t have this benefit.

If you want your reservation under the group rate, you can reply to this email with the name used to reserve the room and we’ll take care of it for you.

You can also simply cancel your reservation and re-book online now that our group code CESRCG is working again. However, you may have difficulty if you try to call directly, since the rep likely handles many hotels and won’t have been briefed on the specifics of our situation. The best way is to either handle it online, or let us handle it on your behalf.

The GREAT News:

After our last email, we received a huge outpouring of support. We’re awed, we’re humbled, and we’re so, so grateful. Some of you are sponsoring new attendees, some are sharing their love for Escapade on Discord, tumblr, and Blue Sky, and many of you donated. Thank you so much. You may make the difference between whether Escapade survives or not.

More great news!

Agatha All Along and Wicked streaming on Sundays before the convention!

Umber will be hosting showings of Agatha All Along on Sundays, 1/5/25, 1/12/25, and 1/19/25, at 2pm PST (5pm EST). Each showing will be around 2.5 hours.

Kosmi link: https://kosmi.gg/xp51uu

Umber will be hosting a showing of Wicked on Sunday, 1/26/25, at 2pm PST (5pm EST).

Kosmi link: https://kosmi.gg/xp51uu

Join her to check out these popular new fandoms before the convention!

And even more great news:

The vidshow deadline has been extended to 1/23/25. You now have a couple more weeks to procrastinate. ^_^

Thank you all for your patience, your kindness, and your generosity. We’re working hard to make this year’s Escapade more fun than ever. We hope to see all of you soon, if not in 2025, then in 2026!

-Escapade Con Com

#escapadecon #updates

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cryptid-intraining · 7 months ago

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Heyo Tumblr, if you could stick around to read this, I'd really appreciate it.

So this isn't normally something I do since my blog is usually strictly about my online obsessions, I don't ever really talk about irl stuff but this is important to me so imma yap for a bit. And it's going to be tagged incorrectly but it's just because I want people who normally come across me, so F1 fans mainly, to see this.

So irl I'm a firefighter from Aotearoa New Zealand, we're an almost entirely volunteer organization (around 85% are volunteers) and every year there's an event called the Skytower Firefighter Challenge which is a charity climb of our tallest building. We have to climb 51 levels, around 1,100 stairs, in full firefighter kit, so level 2 bunker gear and full breathing apparatus.

The charity is for Leukemia and blood cancer and we also hold a similar event in September for 9/11.

This is the first time I'm participating in the event since I've just become a firefighter this year (I did do the 9/11 one already though) and we have to fundraise for the event personally.

So this is the part where I ask you very, very nicely if you would consider donating and if you cannot, could you pretty please reblog this so it can reach more people and if you know anyone irl that would care about a cause like this, please let them know.

This is the QR code to my donation site.

And this is the link to the general donation site.

If you've gotten down here, thank you so much! Regardless of whether you donate or share, I appreciate you taking the time to read this. Have a wonderful day.

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radiowallet · 2 years ago

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Home

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Marcus Moreno Summary: Dieter takes Marcus to a party in the valley. WC: 4.5K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Sexual content. Exclusive M/M dynamics. Written in third-person POV, male protagonists. Anal sex, dirty talk, kissing, cum play, semi-public sex. Small angsty moments. Yearning. So much yearning. AU Marcus Moreno (no wife, no Missy). A lot of purple prose and waxing poetic.

A/N: Hi, hello, it's been a very very long time since I've shared any writing here. I don't have any good excuses other than real-life stressors, mental health and anxiety, and the overall stress of being on Tumblr really really got to me. I'm trying to ease my way back in. Slowly. I've really enjoyed catching up on all the amazing fics you guys have been writing. Thank you to everyone, still here or otherwise. Even when I was off dealing with irl stuff, I could feel the support.

Pretend Alleyways Masterlist II Main Masterlist

For any new writing follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications.

Marcus chewed at his nail bed, surveying the house from the backseat of his Uber. It was hardly the first time he’d pulled up to the Sherman Oaks home. He was comfortable with the routine at this point. Tapping in the code for the front gate with practiced ease. The same one Dieter had scribbled onto the back page of a forgotten script after that first night together in New York City, his cell ringing incessantly from his back pocket, a car waiting down the curb to whisk him away. Marcus swore he could still taste the mint and menthol on the actor’s breath when he stepped in close and pressed the paper into his hands, kissing him until his toes curled.

“Please say you’ll come visit.”

After that, it had been one strategically planned visit after the other. Marcus was almost mathematical in his process, arranging flights out west around his patrol schedule, switching shifts, and taking on extra duties just to rationalize the time away. Burning the candle at both ends but not caring even in the slightest, happy to run his tank on empty. He’d drive all fucking night if it meant more time with Dieter.

So he took to the task with a vigilant level of focus, texting details and arrival times, the actor responding with a barrage of emojis, always ending with a heart.

Marcus liked the way the little pixelated picture made his stomach flip.

Once together, it became less of a routine and more of a dance, the two of them falling into an easy rhythm that Marcus had no desire to predict. They would lose themselves in each other, wrapping tightly around the other, the heat impossible to turn away from. There were late nights and early mornings, the color of the sun replacing the hours on the clock. Sometimes, he would give up on sleep all together, content to match the actor’s eccentricities, watching Dieter move from room to room, minute to minute, until the other man would return to his arms.

But as each visit came to a close, Marcus would find himself falling back on easy habits, his mind already making plans and rearranging schedules, focusing on that instead of the overbearing weight of goodbye.

In the middle of one farewell, Dieter had grinned and nipped at his bottom lip, a tease curling around the curve of his cheek.

“Don’t worry so much about the vigilante shit, sweet boy. You’re welcome anytime.”

Marcus had frowned at that, but Dieter was unfazed, humming an off-key pop song under his breath before giving one more piece of advice.

Be spontaneous.

Marcus had gnawed on those two words the entire plane ride home, the concept both enticing and diabolical at once. He imagined all the ways he would have spoiled Dieter if they lived in the same zip code. Spur of the moment cups of coffee, flowers just because, nights in and out and everything in between. But even those daydreams felt out of reach, Marcus unable to let go of the need to control everything. Everything. Everything that he possibly could.

Except Deiter Bravo.

The actor was bound for overseas, a six-month shoot looming ahead, lonely and large. They had spent the weekend before much the same way they had any other. Twisted together, sweat and cum and lips and hands pressed into bare skin, ignoring the ticking of traitorous time. Cruel miles were taking the other man away from him, and Marcus couldn’t stop the swell of jealous fear flaring inside his heart.

Would he even be missed when the whole luminous, wonderful, exciting world was waiting for Dieter on the other side of the tarmac?

A deep cough from the front seat dragged him back to the present, and before he could second guess himself again, Marcus climbed out of the car, tapping out five stars with one hand and grabbing his overnight bag with the other. He hesitated, just the smallest moment of debate, before he knocked, three sharp raps on the large black door. There was a shout from inside, Dee’s voice alerting someone he would get it, a breath and a curse as the lock was fiddled with, and then they were standing face to face after only 39 hours apart.

Dieter seemed shocked to see him and he didn't bother hiding it, his jaw dropping in time with his arms, the shirt he had been buttoning hanging open to reveal his bare chest. Marcus couldn’t help but steal a glance of tan skin and a soft belly, licking his lips in anticipation. When Dee called his attention back up, the other man was smiling wide.

“This is…”

“A surprise?”

“A great fucking surprise.”

It was almost a blur after that. Fumbling hands and broken laughter as they came together in a messy kiss. They managed to make it up the stairs and down the hall, Dieter’s bed barely breaking their fall.

Marcus wanted to take his time, should have been taking his time, but Dieter’s voice was in his ear, thanking him — thanking him? — for showing up tonight. Thanking him and begging him and pressing salt-slicked lips into the curve of his neck. And before he could breathe the other man in, savor the moment that was coming out of nowhere, they stripped away each and every layer, Dieter panting beneath the hurried press of Marcus’s fingers deep inside.

Sooner rather than later, Marcus was sliding into the other man one final time, their hips flush and their fingers laced. He came with a groan, face buried into the dip of Dieter’s neck, while the actor sunk his teeth into his shoulder, the pleasure burning away into the edges of pain. Only after they both found their breath, bodies pliant and limbs loose, did Marcus find his voice.

“Do you want to order in?”

Dieter didn’t say anything and Marcus craned his neck up to peek past the other man’s chin and catch a glimpse of him worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Did you already eat? Because that’s okay.”

“No…,” he started, fingers tracing a line of muscle from the top of his shoulder and back around, lingering along the teeth marks he left there only minutes earlier. “I haven’t eaten. I…there’s this thing I have to….well, not have to. I was getting ready for it when you knocked—“

“Dee?”

“There’s a party,” he finally blurted out, eyes finding the swing of the ceiling fan above, a grimace pulling his lips into a jagged line, a deep shade of pink settling on his cheeks.

Marcus leaned up on his elbow, watching the small battle of wills dragging across Dieter’s face. He thought maybe he should try to comfort the other man but he was suddenly anxious, those creeping realities working their way up his spine.

“A party?”

“Yeah, it’s sort of this farewell thing my friends are throwing,” he explained, not needing to. “Really, just an excuse to get blitzed.”

The lack of eye contact suddenly made much more sense.

“You wanted to go.”

It wasn’t a question.

Dieter was up and over him in a flash, one large hand bending around Marcus’s jaw, thumb pressing the seam of his lips shut. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

Marcus pursed his lips, the pad of Dieter’s thumb still pressing firm. He felt the callous from where Dee cheated his paintbrush, a perfect spot to push a kiss before pulling away.

“You want to go.”

Dieter searched his face, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, trying to pull apart the determined set of Marcus’s jaw. When he came up empty-handed, he fell back to his elbows with an exaggerated sigh, one large hand still cupping the cut of the hero’s cheekbone, keeping his thumb close enough to touch.

“I want to go with you.”

———————

Marcus smiled from where he was leaning against the doorway, watching Dieter rummage through his ridiculously sized closet, a string of muttered musings leaving him as he pulled item after item off of hangers. The Heroic had slipped back into his jeans and t-shirt once the decision had been made that they would attend the party together, not really packing (or owning) anything that fit the L.A. scene.

He was two steps towards the bathroom, intent on fixing his messy hair when Dee stopped him with a strong grip on his elbow.

“Leave it,” he teased, a quick kiss pressed to his lips, fingers tugging at one of the sweat-slicked curls.

Now he was standing behind him, sliding a stone-washed jean jacket up one arm and then the other, one more kiss, this time gifted to the back of his neck. The jacket hangs a bit loose around him, Marcus guessing a mix between the cut and style, and Dieter’s broader frame both at play. He couldn’t help himself, tugging the collar to his nose and inhaling deeply, the smell of weed and cologne and something subtle sweet filling his lungs.

He felt Dieter’s eyes, watching him carefully in the reflection of the mirror, his hands finding the dip of his waist beneath the bulky fabric, gripping hard then soft, one, two, three times. Marcus took in the pair of them — sex-mussed hair and bright blush on him, wild eyes, and a teasing smile on Dieter — and he suddenly had no desire to go to this party. Any party.

No.

All he wanted was for Dieter to pull this jacket off the same way he had so easily slipped it on, and drag him back down to the safety of the mattress.

“Come on, sweet boy,” he hummed, the hook of his nose tracing the shell of Marcus’s ear. “Sooner we get there, sooner I get to take you home.”

The word followed Marcus down the stairs and out to the car, his stomach flipping each time he let the meaning of it roll around inside his head.

Home?

———————

Driving in L.A. was an experience in and of itself. Marcus had made his own attempts, managing to find a rhythm in the few times he had been sent out to the west coast on assignment. It wasn’t much different than driving in any other city, as long as you were prepared to sit in what felt like endless hours of traffic. Of course, Marcus had the pleasure of abusing side streets and off-ramps when it came down to emergency situations.

Driving with Dieter behind the wheel was a different experience altogether. He seemed unfettered by speed limits or traffic lights, one hand on the wheel, the other wrapped around Marcus’s knee, singing along to the song on the radio but only getting about half the words right. If not for his powers and years of honing his reflexes, Marcus would have maybe suggested he do the driving when he was in town.

As it was, it was nice to settle into the plush leather seat and listen to Dieter’s slightly off-key voice, his hand squeezing Marcus’s knee in time with the beat of the music. He leaned back and closed his eyes, weighing the risk of asking Dieter to just keep driving. Maybe if they kept going, all night and all day, they could avoid the inevitable goodbyes looming in the distance.

———————

The last time Marcus and Dieter had been at a party together, they had only ever heard of each other, recognizing names and faces from newspapers and movie screens. They didn’t know any different than what was said in headlines or plastered on billboards, rumors and hearsay coloring in their opinions of one another. How many assumptions had Marcus made about the actor upon that first meeting? That he was pompous. Self-centered. Selfish. An addict. An asshole. A monster.

Or maybe Marcus was afraid that was how Dieter saw him.

The monster in the night. The shadow that lurked in the corner. Fighting away the evils of the world, the palms of his hands so very dirty with blood and secrets and violence. Living in the between of good and bad and never knowing where he really stood.

But when their eyes met across that darkened alley, only the glow of Dieter’s cigarette casting shadows between them, those half-truths and packaged lies that Marcus took for granted started to fall away. Somewhere between their small secrets and one smokey kiss goodnight, he started to learn who Dieter Bravo really was.

This party was different in so many ways than that first elegant affair. Gone was the light classical music, replaced with something loud, a heavy bass and fast lyrics. Bowls of chips instead of passed trays. Stiff black and white was traded in for soft denim, Dieter’s scent surrounding Marcus from room to room. They entered the party together, no longer separate, no longer strangers, and instead more.

So much more.

Dieter’s arm was wrapped around Marcus’s waist, holding him close by his side as they navigated the packed mansion. The crowd parted around them, little waves of people ebbing and flowing to make room for the two men, boisterous cheers of joy raining down upon them. Dieter preened beneath the attention, his smile wide and his cheeks warm, the hand wrapped around Marcus’s waist squeezing hard to grab the Heroic’s attention.

“They like to make a fuss,” he hummed into Marcus’s ear.

He couldn’t help but cock his own grin back, turning his head just enough to brush his lips along the shell of Dieter’s ear, delighting in the shiver that followed. “I think you like the fuss.”

———————

They get separated about an hour in, an inevitability between the number of people vying for Dieter’s attention and the sheer size of the house. Marcus excused himself to the bathroom, trying and failing not to be annoyed when the first empty one he found was on the opposite end of the party. By the time he made it back to where he left Dieter, the other man had moved, now sitting on a couch, friends and fans alike draped around him.

There was something strange about watching Dieter Bravo in what some would consider his natural habitat. He was bright and shiny and impossible to look away from. He almost looked relaxed, his arms thrown over the back of the sofa and his legs stretched out long, only the tap tap tap of his heel giving him away.

Marcus wanted to insert himself. To crowd himself beside the other man and press his palm to the bend of his knee in hopes of soothing away the small tremor of anxiety, but he hesitated, his own worries holding him in place. So he stayed where he was, back glued to the wall, arms crossed and frown firm, as he tried to decipher the scene playing out in front of him.

Was Dieter’s laugh real just then? Or was the one Marcus had teased out of him hours prior? The sounds seemed so similar, a copy of a copy that looked and felt and sounded real. Were his cheeks pink because he preferred their attention over Marcus’s? Or was it because this room was too damn hot? What did it mean when Dieter touched her knee? Or kissed his cheek? Or leaned a little bit more into their touch?

And why did Marcus care?

He didn’t consider himself a jealous man.

But it almost felt inevitable, the dark tendrils of jealousy seemingly always present, ever since that fateful moment in the alleyway, smoke and secrets traded away for unspoken promises for more. Marcus clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, watching the other man glow beneath the attention of others. Was it merely a reflection back of the attention poured upon him? The mirrors of a disco ball catching in the light and shining for the delight of others? Or was Dieter just enjoying another moment in the limelight?

Marcus couldn’t seem to see the line between real and fake, or what side he stood on.

Someone handed him a drink in the midst of his brooding, and the sting of the alcohol paired well with his bitter mood. He was trapped in a hell of his own making, refusing to look away from the crowd gathered around Dieter, but hating every second of it.

The jealousy burned inside of him. What had just been something dark mingling in the background was now present and in full force. Marcus was jealous. Jealous at how effortlessly Dieter lived his life, able to navigate crowds and fame and fervor without ever breaking a sweat. Jealous at how his smile seemed just as bright as it had when he opened his door hours earlier. Jealous at how someone else held the attention of his sweet brown eyes.

And suddenly there was fear. Icy cold and horrifying reality.

Marcus didn’t belong here. Here with these pretty people and their clean lines and bright lights. He was messy edges and dirty hands, stained with years of violence that would never scrub clean. There was dirt on his ledger and red on his chest, and Dieter was beautiful. So very very beautiful.

Another wave of panic gripped tight at Marcus’s throat.

When was the last time he told Dieter he was beautiful? Yesterday? Or the day before that? Either way, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly. And he couldn’t fathom a world where he lost the chance to say it again.

He couldn’t lose this. He couldn’t lose him.

The lights above them flickered, an unwelcome side effect of his superpowers, Marcus’s unruly emotions too much to handle all at once. It was just enough to drag everyone’s attention up, stealing their eyes away from Dieter, but only briefly. The actor caught his gaze in the small interim, brows pinched and lips curved, his sharp mind putting the puzzle together. Marcus blushed beneath the scrutiny, feeling very much like a child caught in the midst of a crime. He slammed the cup down on the nearest surface he could find and shoved his dirty hands in the pockets of Dieter’s jacket, and turned away, the lights flickering one last time as he made a quick and embarrassing exit.

From behind he could hear the shout of a stranger.

“Hey, Dee where’s your boyfriend headed?”

Marcus was so focused on the fact that someone else called him ‘Dee’ that he missed the way Dieter's eyes lit up at the word boyfriend.

The bathroom he had found earlier was blissfully empty, and he took care to lock the door behind him. He braced himself against the sink, the cool porcelain a balm to the heat of his palms, breathing in and out, sharp and fast, to match the beat of his heart. A knock came seconds later, Dieter’s voice chasing the sound.

“Let me in, Marcus.”

It didn’t sound like a request.

Marcus unlocked the door with a flick of his wrist, and the actor slipped in, eyes pinning him in place as he locked the door behind him. For a moment both of them refused to speak, 2 feet of space between them, and enough silence to last a lifetime. It was Dieter who finally broke the tension, stepping forward until Marcus was within his reach, the palm of his hand cupping his cheek to keep him close.

“Flattered as I am, I can’t decide if I like jealous on you or not.”

Marcus knew it was foolish to lie at this point. If his fucking superpowers hadn’t given him away, then storming off surely had, and any denial would have rung hollow. Besides, they had promised. Months ago, in an opulent hotel room, cum and sweat sticking them together. They promised to always be honest with each other.

“I don’t belong here, Dee.”

“Shut up.” The sentiment came out as a tease, the tip of Dieter’s thumb tracing the stubble along Marcus’s cheek, but the look on his face was serious.

Marcus shook his head, unsure how to say what had seemed so clear to him only minutes ago. “I’m not…I’m not g–”

“I swear to fucking all, if you say the word ‘good,’ Moreno.”

His mouth clamped shut, and he smiled for the first time since he left Dieter’s side earlier in the night. The other man yanked him in for a quick kiss, only pulling a breath away when he spoke again.

“You are better than all of us, sweet boy. Please tell me you know that?”

Marcus wanted to shake his head in disagreement, the very idea that Dieter saw the good in him too much to bear, but the actor was already kissing him again, lips slanting sweetly along his own. When they broke apart for the second time, Dieter said it again, and then again, each time pairing a kiss with his words. Marcus thought maybe he would have kissed him a hundred times and then a hundred more, praise and adoration passed between them until the inevitable end of time caught up.

But then Dieter crowded in closer, kissing him with much more fervor, his intent clear. Hands scrambled as belts were tugged free and pants were pulled down, bodies twisting until Marcus was plastered to Dieter’s back. He slipped inside the broader man easily, still slick with his release from earlier. Dieter whined at the stretch, pressing back into Marcus, fingers curling around the edge of the bathroom counter as he began to beg.

“Hard, baby. Please.”

Marcus nipped at Dieter’s ear, refusing to move, the entire length of him buried to the hilt inside him. “How hard?”

“Hard,” Dieter begged again, squirming in Marcus’s tight grip. “Hard as you can. Need to feel you. F-feel so good.”

It was an intoxicating rush, reducing Dieter Bravo to stumbling pleas and wanton moans, and Marcus swore as long as he was able to pull air into his lungs he refused to take that feeling for granted. He pressed a soft kiss to Dieter’s skin and gently nudged his nose to the back of his head, coaxing his gaze up to meet Marcus’s in the mirror.

He dragged his hand up Dieter’s chest, stopping to feel the steady thump of his heart, one, two, three beats, before moving up to wrap his fingers around the other man’s throat. He whined again, writhing to and fro, the sound more pitiful with each passing second that Marcus refused to move.

“I’ve got you, mi cielo. I’ve got you,” he hummed the promise, pressing another kiss to Dieter’s sweat-damp curls. He squeezed the actor’s throat again, watching as his cock seemed to pulse in time with the action. He bit back his own groan, his own cock painfully hard where he was buried inside the other man.

“M-marcus…please…”

When he finally moved, it was slow, almost torturous for the both of them, but Marcus refused to be rushed. Not this time. Fuck any and everyone who dared to knock on that door. That dared to interrupt them. That dared to break between this moment. He pulled the other man closer, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other still gripping tight to his throat. Dieter’s hands were still scrambling, designer soaps and over-priced products falling to the floor as he seeked some sort of leverage. He finally found it, stonewashed denim bunching between his fingers as he dug them into Marcus’s forearms.

And only then did Marcus give into his request, snapping his hips as hard as he could, teeth sinking into the curve of Dieter’s neck. There would be bruises, bad ones, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, too overwhelmed at the thought of marking the other man as his own. Dieter didn’t seem to mind either, begging Marcus again and again to give him everything he had.

“Want to feel it,” he sobbed, the pleasure just on the other side of pain. “Want to feel you when I’m gone. Please.”

“You will, baby. I promise,” Marcus growled. “You’ll feel me for days. You won’t forget me. P-please… don’t forget me.”

The admission fell out of Marcus before he could stop it, along with his own broken sobs to match. The pain and tears burst to life, the broken pieces he had hidden all over his body finding new life as he begged Dieter to take it all with him. Each slam of his hips and bruising touch of his hands. Every bite from his teeth and kiss from his lips. The words and the promises and the things neither of them knew how to say but felt all the same.

“Take me with you, Dee. Please, take me with you.”

“I will, sweet boy,” he gasped, his body shaking beneath Marcus’s anguished hands. “Sweet boy. Good boy. I promise.”

Dieter came first, though Marcus wasn’t sure how, his sobs and sighs of pleasure long past any sort of coherence. His cock twitched and pulsed, coming completely untouched. Marcus watched Dieter’s face break apart in the reflection of the mirror, his brown eyes wild and skin flushed, lips parting around a feral scream.

Marcus fell apart in kind, sparks of heat bursting at the base of his spine as tight velvet squeezed around him, Dieter’s voice in his ear, his jacket sticking to his skin. He spilled inside the other man, tears and spit and snot pressed into Dieter’s neck, little words of praise coaxing him through the brunt of it. Eventually, the tears turned to laughter, the two of them clinging tighter as they made guesses at how many people heard them.

“Either way, I hope they enjoyed the show because I sure did,” Dieter teased, nipping his teeth on the hinge of Marcus’s jaw.

They did a piss poor job of cleaning up, Dee’s cum barely wiped clean from the porcelain with a towel found below the counter, too high a thread count for something so filthy but neither man really gave two shits to look for an alternative. The products were tossed haphazardly into the sink, the idea of stacking them neatly ridiculous. They both agreed; you get what you ask for when you throw a party in the valley.

Marcus took better care when it came time to clean Dieter up. He warmed up the water from the sink as best he could, using that same fancy towel from before to wipe up the trickle of cum slipping slowly down his backside. He couldn’t stop from stealing one small indulgence, using his thumb to press some of himself back inside the other man, Dieter’s legs visibly shaking from the sudden stimulation. Marcus shushed him with a soft kiss to one of the many bite marks littered across his neck, humming out a quiet apology.

“Do they hurt?”

“They do,” Dieter grinned, tilting his chin to admire the marks as he tugged his jeans up over the swell of his ass. “I’m gonna need a few more before I get on that plane tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmmm, definitely.”

Dieter pressed something hard into Marcus’s hand and when he looked down he could see it was his car keys, the silver teeth catching in the light.

“Take me home, sweet boy. I have plans for you.”

There was that word again, breathed out so easily, like a promise he knew he would keep.

Home.

#Marcus Moreno #Dieter Bravo #Marcus Moreno fic #Dieter Bravo fic #Marcus Moreno x Dieter Bravo #mlm #we can be heroes #the bubble #pedro pascal characters

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kyndredravenstories · 10 months ago

Text

Eyes of Infinity: Delirium Chapter 3

Hello, I have been posting my work on AO3 and recently decided to venture here to Tumblr. Please note: This story is 18+. No minors. Please read tags carefully. Link to AO3 below but I will also be posting the chapters here.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/148446469#workskin

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Content Warning (For the entire fic): Explicit sexual content, spoilers and alterations to existing lore and cards/memories/tender moments/secret times, size kink, size difference, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, anal sex, fingering, all kinds of fingering, elements of consensual somno, dom!Sylus, jealousy, possessive!Sylus, Mephisto stalking, typical game violence, battle and combat

Summary: To love him meant stepping over the threshold and crossing into darkness. To be with him meant accepting the lure of the shadows. And to protect him from betrayal meant sacrifice. I knew not how, only that I would not let time sever our paths ever again.

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2

When Xavier had mentioned that the Mythe was a luxury club, my mind automatically conjured images of the places I'd been to with Sylus in N109. The clubs he'd taken me to made visitors feel like they'd stepped into an alternate dimension. Spotless marble floors, walls adorned with the latest technological advancements, automated bartenders, glowing drinks of every possible flavor and combination, and a crowd full of people who were clearly the cream of the crop when it came to power and status.

In those places, each word exchanged was code for a business proposition. Each gesture had to be watched, dissected, and analyzed. Each brokered deal carried a hefty price, whether it was money, lives, or power. A vibe of danger buzzed in the air. One had to expect a fight to break out at any time. With all the different factions vying for supremacy in the No Hunt Zone, no visit to a venue was free from risk.

Compared to all of that, the auction event at the Mythe is quite a disappointment. Had I never seen the clubs at N109, I might have been impressed. All in all, it's a beautiful party. But even to my untrained eye, the furniture looks outdated; the lights are plain and dull; the music is calm and mainstream. The staff is very much flesh and blood, rushing around the ballroom to serve their guests. Still, the patrons seem to be enjoying themselves, smiling as they hold their drinks and mingle with each other.

"Where do you want to start?" I ask Xavier after we blend into the crowd. Hidden behind a large white statue of a regal dragon, we discuss our plan of action. First, we'll scan the room and see if we can pick up any more information on LUMINIS. Then, Xavier will clear an exit for our escape and return in time for the auction. Fortunately, we are not in a rush. We have a few hours to work with.

Deciding to stick together for a time to avoid suspicion, we circle the room. A few people engage us in conversation, but we don't linger too long in any given spot. I'm impressed at how well Xavier fits in. Though typically quiet and introverted, his speech is effortless and fluid as he maintains small talk with the strangers we encounter. He uses lingo and terminology completely foreign to me, making me wonder just how much I don't know about his past.

After roughly an hour, everyone is settled into their drinks and food. A beautiful woman dressed in an elegant black gown comes center stage to play on the regal pianoforte in the corner of the ballroom.

"I think this is a good time to part ways," I whisper in Xavier's ear.

He nods. "Try not to draw any attention to yourself," he warns me.

"I'll be a fly on the wall," I promise him with a smile.

The look he gives me is dubious. "You couldn't be if you tried."

I start when he reaches for me and smoothes a stray lock of hair away from my face. Something tickles, and I realize that he's attached a low profile earpiece to my right ear. When I instinctively reach to feel for it, he takes my hand in his and places a gentle kiss on the back of it. I can't help but blush.

"How do I use it without my watch?" I ask him.

"It's one way. I'll call if something happens." His eyes grow cold and serious. "Are you ready?"

"I am. Everything will be fine here, Xavier. Focus on staying safe."

After Xavier and I separate, I start to mingle with the guests, making my way to a rather extravagant buffet table. At least this area looks well tended to; the array of food is incredible. There's an impressive selection of meats, cheeses, salads, and other delicacies. I even spot some black caviar, which is supposed to be completely extinct now in the culinary world. My stomach growls, but I can't risk eating too much in case we need to fight our way out. I don't want anything to impair my fighting capabilities. But, I'm only human. Despite my very valid line of logic, the dessert table calls my name. I pause before a rainbow of options, trying to decide between a few types of cakes, pastries, and other sweets.

"I would recommend the Ganache Cake with raspberry glaze," a voice says to my right as an elegantly gloved hand reaches over and points to one of the pastries I'd been inspecting. My heart jumps into my throat, my face snapping up to see who is speaking. It's a tall man, roughly Xavier's height, wearing an obviously expensive tailored mauve suit. Diamonds sparkle on his collar chain. Soulful violet eyes look back at me through a silver mask and matching hood. He makes a graceful gesture in the air, bending one arm and keeping it behind his back.

"I hear the chef was flown in from Linkon especially to make this treat."

The floor seems to dip beneath my feet as my eyes and ears attempt to reconcile what I'm seeing and hearing. I stare at the man before me, shaken and unable to reply, for his voice sounds too familiar and his eyes are ones I know too well.

But, it can't be.

Impossible.

The person I'm thinking of is gone. Stolen. Ripped from me, just like my grandmother.

"Are you alright, miss?" the man asks when I stare at him as though I've seen a ghost. I feel the color draining from my face. "Miss?"

I balk again; his voice is unmistakable. Fighting to maintain my composure, I reign in my hope and elation with an iron fist; I force myself to smile.

"Forgive me," I say. "You just remind me of someone I once knew."

The stranger smiles back, and my heart nearly shatters. The way his lips curve is familiar too. I'd know that smile anywhere, especially since my nightmares often brought it back to haunt me.

I gasp. Stumble. Before I can control myself, I'm grabbing the man's sleeve.

"Caleb?" I rasp. "Caleb, is that you?"

The man blinks and tilts his head to the side. There is absolutely no recognition in his gaze. "Miss, I think you might have me confused with someone else."

It can't be him. Caleb was always teasing me and calling me names. There is no universe in which his voice would be this cold when speaking to me. If he had survived the explosion somehow, he would have found me. He would never look at me the way this man is doing now, like a complete and total stranger. I need to control myself before I cause a scene and break our cover. I can already feel eyes on us.

The mission.

LUMINIS.

I have to focus on the mission.

Pulling back my hand, I take a deep breath. "Yes, I'm sorry. I may have had a bit too much wine."

My thoughts drift to Xavier. How I wish he was beside me now.

"Are you here on your own tonight? The gentleman you walked in with earlier does not seem to be keeping you company."

It bothers me that he noticed. It meant others had noticed, too.

"He stepped out to explore the merchandise," I look around, for effect. "I'm certain he will return shortly."

"Then, until his return, perhaps you would honor me with your company?" He proffers his arm to me.

I want to laugh. Suddenly, all of this seems entirely too ridiculous. I give the man my best version of a smile to hide the pain I'm feeling. Caleb would never speak this way. Formalities were something he was allergic to. He would have hated this party, too. Wearing a mask was not his style, and -- I glance at the man's suit -- I couldn't even imagine my adopted brother wearing anything except casual clothes and his pilot's uniform.

The lights dim around us, and classical music begins to play. Elegant and mellow, a slow waltz. Xavier and I occasionally practiced dancing in case we needed to go on missions like this. I am fairly confident in my skills, but I don't want to dance with this guy. Shifting my weight between my feet, I look around one more time for my partner. Where is he? He'd left over an hour ago. Surely he was able to finish his reconnaissance by now.

Unless something hadn't gone to plan.

I ache to check my Hunter's watch or phone for a message.

"May I have this dance, miss?" the stranger in front of me asks, undeterred by my hesitation. I glance at his proffered hand, cornered. Refusing outright would look suspicious. I can't risk drawing too much attention to myself when I have no idea where Xavier is.

"Certainly," I nod, putting my hand in his and allowing him to lead me to the dance floor. A few other pairs break away from the tables and bars to dance as well. Despite my reservations, my partner is a fantastic dancer and leads like a pro. More proof that he couldn't possibly be Caleb, for my brother hated dancing and often made fun of me in our youth when I was interested in taking classes.

Following this man's lead is effortless, about as simple and fun as it was in my practice sessions with Xavier. He, too, was a natural at things like this.

The stranger holds me close enough for me to smell his cologne. It's nostalgic and familiar somehow. Apples come to mind. Fresh apples with a hint of spice.

"What may I call you?" the man asks, his voice like salt on raw wounds. It hurts to hear him speak despite all the exercises in logic I've just done.

"You ask a lady at a masquerade for her name?" I tease.

"No, my lady. I said 'what may I call you?'" He spins me around. As I come back into his embrace, he leans in so I can hear him over the music. "For example, if it would please you to call me by the name you mentioned earlier, you may do so."

His coy flirtation disorients me momentarily. "No, I'd rather not," I frown.

"Well, then, you may call me Malakai," he murmurs, pulling me in closer. "I, too, am here expecting someone. But, I was not expecting you."

"Expecting me?"

Malakai spins me around again as the song crescendos then comes to an end. However, he doesn't release me even as the music fades and ramps up into the next song. I have no choice but to go with the flow at this point. We continue dancing.

"It's rather dangerous for a lovely creature like yourself to be alone in this kind of place, isn't it?" he asks.

"I can take care of myself," I insist. "And I am not alone."

I don't like being this close to him. It makes me uncomfortable. His cologne is pleasant, and his hands are warm. He holds me respectfully and does not violate the boundaries of dance partners. But, my gut is telling me to get away from him immediately. I still can't stand the sound of his voice. No matter how much I tell myself that this isn't Caleb, the resemblance is just too uncanny.

This kind of confrontation with one of the still festering wounds in my heart is just too soon. Not even a year has passed since his death, and I'm still grieving. I can't calm down, and the anxiety is starting to unbalance me. Claustrophobic, my body tenses as I try to maintain the maximum distance between us. I pray that the song will be over soon; it seems to last an eternity.

The music finally stops. Still, Malakai doesn't release me. He bows gracefully while holding my hand. His eyes meet mine; deep violet. So much like Caleb's, but different. Caleb had never looked at his own sister with such a heated gaze, like he'll devour me if I'm not careful.

I feel sick.

"Thank you for the dance," I bite out. "I'll be going now."

When I try to pull back, his grip tightens painfully on my hand. "Don't leave so soon, my lady. I have some business to attend to and would love for you to join me."

I can't really process the situation at this point. Some man who looks like a clone of my dead adopted brother is openly expressing his interest in me in the middle of a critical mission. And I -- supposedly a strong and resilient Hunter -- feel like I'm about to vomit all over his very expensive suit, diamond lapels and all.

"There you are, dearest," a low voice cuts through my misery like a ray of light in a deep tunnel. A strong hand wraps around my waist and pulls me back and away from Malakai into a very warm circle of arms. I look up to see Xavier above me. His cobalt gaze searches my face, and I lean into him. If I don't, my knees will give way.

Malakai's gaze moves between Xavier and I. "This must be your plus one," he says without hiding his disappointment.

"That's right," I nod. "Thank you for the dance. I hope your business concludes successfully."

Xavier leads me from the dance floor back to the desserts display. He sits me down at the most remote table in the room; it's a two-seater corded off in the VIP section which he accesses with a code stamp on his wrist. I don't ask how he managed to snag one of those. At this point, all I can feel is massive relief. To be away from Malakai and to see that Xavier hadn't gotten in over his head.

"Did you find anything out?" I murmur after the waiters bring us a set of drinks.

"The auction will begin shortly. Unfortunately, the product we need is one of the last ones to be presented."

When I give him a blank stare, he covers my hand with his own. "Ellara, you're deathly pale. Are you alright?"

"That man, he..." I hesitate. I haven't spoken with anyone about the deaths of my family since it happened. Zayne had recommended that I go to therapy, but I never did. I feel safe broaching the subject with Xavier, but...perhaps another time. "He made me really uncomfortable."

"Did you get his name?"

"Malakai. Does it ring a bell?"

Xavier shakes his head.

"How was your reconnaissance?"

His eyes darken. "We have a complication."

I don't like the look on his face. Not at all.

"What is it?"

"The LUMINIS isn't being sold alone," he says in a low tense tone. "They've captured and poisoned a Hunter. She's part of the package." A beat as he hesitates one more time. "It's the girl from the lab who comes to your apartment sometimes."

My eyes go wide, and I grip my glass so tightly that my hands shake. My thoughts scatter, piecing together his description.

No way. Tara? These crooks have somehow managed to kidnap my best friend? How? When? Just yesterday, she was waiting for me at the lecture in the hotel with Lois. I remember seeing some missed calls from her on my phone earlier, and my heart sinks. I should have checked her messages. I should have taken her calls. While I was distracted with Sylus, I probably missed a call for help. Guilt worsens my nausea.

"That's impossible. Are you sure?"

Xavier's silence is all the confirmation I need. His brows furrow. "We can't wait for the auction. The chances of being able to steal the LUMINIS and rescue the girl are slim."

"When you say poisoned..."

"It's the typical presentation of toxicity we've seen in other victims. Looks like they gave her a pretty heavy dose. Her pulse was erratic, and she was completely unresponsive."

My body breaks out in cold sweat. "We have to get her to a hospital," I choke out. "If we wait too long, she could go into a coma."

Xavier suddenly stands up and walks around the table, kneeling beside my chair. "I need you to pretend you're feeling sick. I'll take you to the back, and we can go from there."

At this point, I don't have to pretend much. Xavier helps me up, and I lean on him, acting as though I've had too much to drink. He escorts me out of the ballroom and into the adjoining hall. Once out of sight, we sneak into a storage room.

"Do you still remember the layout?" Xavier asks. "Down the hall, first door on the left, down three doors, right turn and first door."

I nod and grip both of his arms. He's checking something on his watch, but I force him to look down at me. "Xavier. Listen to me. You have to get Tara out of here, even if I have to stay behind and follow you out later."

His expression remains neutral, but I see the unease in his eyes. He steps over to me, his features ice cold. When he speaks, his voice is lower than usual.

"You're asking me to leave my partner behind on a mission?"

I shake my head and take a step back. "No. I'm asking you to save my best friend. I can handle myself. You know that."

He takes another step forward, then another, until my back is pushed up against a metal shelf. My request isn't what he wants to hear, but I could care less. Tara's life is the highest priority now. Refusing to let him intimidate me, I straighten my spine.

"Please, Xavier. Save her."

He doesn't answer me, and I prepare myself to force his compliance. How would I even do that? I've never had to try. I don't recall ever disagreeing with him on any point during a mission. We've always functioned on one wavelength. But, the stakes are different tonight. I can get out of here on my own, but Tara could die if we don't get her medical help quickly.

"And how do you plan to get out of here?" he asks.

"I need to see what I'm working with first. Let's get to the holding room."

We regroup and prepare to move as swiftly and silently as possible. Our luck holds out. We don't run into anyone on the way. Once at the door, Xavier presses his wrist against the scanner and unlocks it.

"We'll have company soon," I warn, yanking off my glove and checking my watch. "We need to move quick."

The holding room is the size of a ballroom itself. Xavier leads me around piles of crates, boxes, chests, and Protocore cases to the very back. When I see Tara lying limp and silent in a padded coffin, I rush over to her without a second thought. I don't dare make a sound, but I check her pulse and feel her face. She's cold; so very cold. I can barely feel her heartbeat, and she's white as a sheet. She's wearing Hunter formal-wear, which means that Noxis must have captured her on the way to the symposium.

Beside the coffin is a Protocore case with a beautiful onyx-colored glass vial inside. I recognize the pattern on the bottle. It's LUMINIS, alright. The largest amount I've ever seen packaged at once. I glance at Tara and take one of her limp hands into mine. In that moment, my decision is made.

"Help me, Xavier." I turn so my back faces him. "Get this dress off me. There's a hidden zipper under the lining at my nape."

I don't wait for him to heed my plea. With swift motions, I start getting Tara out of her Hunter uniform. I need to change clothes with her quickly. There's not much time until the auction begins. When that happens, this room will swarm with staff and potentially agents of Noxis.

I'm focused on the task at hand so much that when Xavier wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him, I nearly jump out of my skin. I look up, confused at what he's doing.

"Xavier? What's going on?"

His grip on me tightens. A beat. Then -- "You're going to take her place?"

His voice sounds completely alien. I've never heard it dip like this, not even when he was angry.

"It's temporary. I need to get her in my gown so you can carry her out. Nobody will recognize her because I've had a mask on all evening." I pat his forearm. "It wouldn't be the first time someone needed to be carried out of an event like this for drinking too much."

"And your plan of escape?"

"It'll be easier for me to move in her clothes, anyway. I can sneak out with the LUMINIS." I point to my temple. "Don't worry. I remember the layout."

"The case is too large. How will you carry it?"

"Let me worry about that," I give him a smile full of a ray of confidence I'm far from feeling. "Please, get Tara to a hospital." I turn to face him, cupping his face with both of my hands. "Trust me."

His palm covers my left hand. He closes his eyes, leaning into my touch. A furrow cleaves his brow; he looks pained. When his eyes open next, they're burning with blue fire.

"When did you become this reckless?" he asks. Before I can reply, he pulls me into a tight hug. He pulls the earbud off my ear, replacing it with the one he's wearing. "Use the earpiece. Keep me updated. As soon as I'm out, I'm going to send for backup."

"Alright," I say, my voice quivering. Adrenaline is starting to flow through my veins, and my hands tremble as I return his gesture of affection. Against my ear, his heart is racing.

Taking one final deep breath, he pushes me away and turns me around, getting to work on removing my dress. There's no time for embarrassment. I don't give the awkward situation a second thought. Xavier helps me out of the gown, holding my guns as I change into Tara's uniform. I pull the gown onto my friend's limp body and secure the mask on her face.

"Don't worry, Tara," I whisper. "I'm going to help you. I won't leave you alone again."

Xavier easily lifts her petite form onto his back as I pick up the LUMINIS case. It's heavy. Much too heavy and bulky to take with me. It doesn't seem like I have much choice. I have to take the bottle out and carry it in my arms if I have any shred of hope in getting out of here without being seen.

When everything is set, Xavier and I share one final glance. We bump fists.

"Everything will be alright," I tell him.

With that, he turns and pads out of the room, leaving me alone in the darkness. Taking a deep breath, I steady myself. I close my eyes, reviewing the layout of the building one more time in my mind. Just two hallways. That's all that stands between me and the emergency exit. Xavier already made sure it was clear and open. I just needed to get there without being seen.

I unholster Sylus's gun from my thigh and hold it in one hand, cradling the bottle of LUMINIS against my chest with the other. Though the gun is much heavier than my normal blasters, I'm not concerned that the extra weight will interfere with combat. I pop out the clip and double-check that all parts are working as they should. Hours upon hours of relentless training ensure that my motions are second-nature. At this point, the only thing that can stop me is my moral compass. I would prefer not to shoot anyone today, but I will defend myself if I have to.

I check my watch before I head out.

8:39 PM

The auction starts at 9:30.

I need to hurry.

I move as fast as I can down the halls. My success is a combination of luck and paranoia. Several times, I'm forced to dip into a closet or bedroom to avoid a passing Mythe staff member. Only once do I see a pair of suspiciously dressed masked men passing by. I don't dare to wonder if these are agents of Noxis. Stopping for even a moment could get me in serious trouble.

At last, I make it out of the emergency exit and onto the Mythe's veranda. It's an old structure that could have used an update a decade back. A pergola acts as a canopy, strings of golden lights hanging from it to give the area a cozy atmosphere. It's a short climb to the bottom via a rickety old fire escape. I holster my gun so that I have a hand free to use for this purpose. My body shivers in the cold winter wind; I wish I had been able to bring a jacket or some kind of winter gear. Unfortunately, I'm just going to have to suck it up until I can get to shelter. Determined, I brace myself against the chill.

Then, just as I hike my leg over the ledge to begin my descent, my luck runs out.

Voices drift to me on the freezing winter wind. Clamoring and shouting. Instinctively, I crouch down behind one of the larger furnishings and cease all movement, my senses honing in on what's happening on the veranda. But, it's too little too late. As a bright beacon of light shines down right on top of me, I realize that I've been spotted.

"Target is in sight!" a man shouts into the watch on his wrist. "Permission to engage!"

My ears ring as the sound of gunfire envelops me. Bullets fly in my direction, and I'm only saved from instant death because I find a defensible spot behind a massive stone sculpture. I reign in my fear, telling myself that this is no different from all the times I've fought Wanderers who shoot fire or ice from their mouths. Shielding the LUMINIS with my body, I draw my gun again and return fire as much as I can.

I hear a few pained screams.

My body moves on instinct.

Stand up. Aim. Fire. Duck. Wait.

Repeat.

Again and again.

Until I have to drop my first gun and get my second.

Until that one is also spent.

With three bullets left, I huddle in my corner and shiver. I don't know how many I've killed or injured. But, no matter how much screaming I hear, the bullets keep flying. It's never-ending. Desperate, my eyes dart to the fire escape. Two solid rolls can get me there, but I'll be vulnerable when trying to jump over the ledge. I need a way to buy myself at least a few seconds.

"Cease fire!" someone shouts. The bullets suddenly stop. "Ellara Fireborne!" the same voice shouts over the howling wind. "Lower your weapons and come out peacefully! If you do, you will be spared!"

Come on. Really? How stupid does this bozo think I am?

Still, I don't have much of a choice. My only option now is to feign surrender and try to escape another way. My knees shaking, I stand up. There's at least six men barricaded behind a row of beer barrels on the other side of the veranda. All of them are pointing guns at me.

"Lower your weapon and come with us quietly," one of faceless men demands.

Adrenaline takes over again. I push my rising panic deep into the back of my mind. Looking around, I try to identify the biggest threat among the men. If I waste one of my last bullets on anyone, it needs to be the leader. Maybe getting rid of him will cause the moment of confusion I need to get away. I lower my hands as though I plan to put down my gun, bending my knees.

As soon as I'm low enough, I drop the rest of the way down and fire at my target. His arm explodes in a shower of blood, and he falls to the ground in a heap. The others start clamoring, but they hesitate to shoot. I manage to fire off two more bullets before one of them finally grasps the situation and fires back.

I lose track of what's happening.

I hear a scream.

It sounds like my voice.

Pain explodes in my shoulder a split second before I hear the bottle of LUMINIS in my arms shatter. Glass buries into my neck and cheek as I'm physically thrown backwards from an overwhelming force. The burning fragrant liquid sprays all over my arms and torso. As I hit the ground and stare at the churning dark sky above, I feel it seeping through my clothes onto my skin.

Get up.

Stand up.

Right now.

You can't die here.

A voice is screaming at me.

Still mine.

Get up! Get up! Get up!

Without conscious will, I roll to my side and try to stand. Something hits me in the stomach so hard I see stars. A push on my shoulder. Blinding pain. Through bleary vision, I see a masked man above me pointing a gun at my face.

Something feral takes over. If I'm going to die here, I refuse to be shot in the head. I refuse to die like a dog. No. If these men want a piece of me, they're going down with me.

When the man turns to shout something over his shoulder at his cohorts, I push off my bent leg, rolling and kicking him in the kneecap as hard as I can. A sickening crack rends the air; his leg bends in an unnatural direction, and he crumples to the ground with a howl of agony.

Xavier had forced me to practice my self defense and hand to hand combat in the last few months. Not to mention, I'd had a few private lessons with Sylus himself. I'm grateful for that as two more men launch themselves at me. I use my smaller stature to my advantage and manage to knock two of them out with kicks to vital parts of their bodies. As soon as I see an opening, I dash for it.

More men funnel out of the building towards me. I double back, but someone catches my wrists and pins my arms behind my back. Another pair of hands forces me to the floor, pressing my cheek into the rotting wood of the veranda. I scream when a stun gun bites into my arm.

My vision goes dark.

"Get over here," a voice above me growls. "Hurry up!"

My head is spinning, but the shock wears off enough for me to move. I kick and lash out, wishing now that my Evol wasn't so useless in situations like this. If only I had Rafayel's fire or Zayne's ice. If only I was as strong as Sylus.

But, there's no point in wishful thinking now.

I have to fight for my life!

I wait for the man holding me to lean down. Thanks to the mesh fabric of my uniform sleeves, I manage to wrench my wrists free. Immediately, I turn and kick the man above me right in the chin. He goes down hard, his lower jaw digging into his tongue with a gush of blood.

"Don't kill her!" someone else commands. "We're supposed to bring her in alive!"

I don't have time to scramble to my feet before another man takes his place. He puts his full weight on me to hold me down. I buck and thrash, trying to get traction with my heels on the concrete, but it's useless. Barely restraining me, the man turns his face to someone behind me and shouts for them to get the "needle".

In the haze of fight or flight, time slows.

I suspect what the "needle" might be. Likely the same stuff used on me all those months ago in N109.

These men were trying to capture me. But, why? If this was Noxis, what use did they have for me? Did they intend to use me for the LUMINIS project? Did they know about the Aether core in my heart?

I had to assume the worst.

If I gave up now, I was going to be killed. No questions asked.

The man's hand is within reach of my mouth. My disgust only lasts a split second before I yank on him and sink my teeth as hard as I can into his hand. He screams and lets go of my wrists. I reach up and dig my fingers into his eyes. His screams intensify; the weight lifts off my chest.

I scramble to my feet before something hits me across the face.

Hard.

So hard that my vision goes completely black.

I fall to the ground, dizzy and disoriented.

Voices rise in a wave around me, but I can't make out what they're saying. My ears are ringing.

Somewhere far up above me, I hear a murder of crows cawing in the night.

I blink. My vision slowly comes back into focus.

A man stands above me. His eyes are filled with fury. He takes a step, and pain knifes up my wrist. I hear a crack. He'd stepped on my hand and is crushing my watch with his heel. That done, he kneels beside me. Once he's close enough, I spit blood into his face.

He lifts his hand to strike me.

But, the blow never comes.

The wind around us picks up speed. A searing thrumming tears through the air, a sort of vibration resonating deep within my bones. The strings of lights hanging from the pergola above me shake. One by one, the lightbulbs pop and explode. The cawing of the crows intensifies, nearly deafening now.

All hell breaks loose.

Men scream.

The deck beneath me shakes as bodies are strewn about.

More gunfire.

More screaming.

Something smells like melting skin.

The coppery tang of blood in the air.

Footsteps to my right.

Slow. Deliberate.

The clicking of dress shoes on moist wood.

The man above me lets out a sound of pure fright as he looks in that direction; his face morphs into a picture of terror. He scrambles back.

"It's him. Oh God. Spare me. Spare m--" black and red mist wraps around his neck. I can see the indentations in his skin, like ghostly fingers. He gurgles and gags, his face turning red then purple. Saliva pours from the corner of his mouth as his eyes roll into the back of his head. As death takes him, his body goes flying, smacking into the deck with a sickening sound of broken bones and maimed flesh.

The cacophony of crows is so loud now that it's all I can hear.

Or is that more gunfire?

I can't move anymore.

I can't feel anything -- not pain, not my fingers, not my legs.

I can smell the LUMINIS on me.

The scent of fresh apples.

It's nostalgic. Familiar.

Then, everything falls silent.

A face looms in my line of sight. Beautiful, haunting red eyes.

A demon from a painting.

Something presses against my cheek.

As everything spirals into a blur, I can only think that I wouldn't mind going to Hell if this demon was my escort there.

#love and deepspace #sylus/mc #sylus x mc #sylusposting #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfic #eyes of infinity delirium #lnds #lnds xavier #lnds fanfic #lnds sylus

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