#not on either platform and honestly I don’t think I ever will be

[minkdelovely]

love and power

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chapter ten: part two

“i won’t die for love but ever since i met you you could have my heart and i would break it for you.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: nothing scary to report here — welcome to your happy ending 💖

word count: 8k

author’s note: cherished ones… i can’t believe we’re finally here at the end 🥲 it’s taken me much longer than anticipated to get this out, but i hope it’s worth the wait. allow me to extend my sincere gratitude to you all for hanging in there and going on this journey with me and this series. this started out as pure self-indulgence and turned into something much more along the way and i hope this is received by you as the gift i intended it to be. they’re not off the album i used as the platform for this series, but feel free to listen to rain and take me back to eden by sleep token, which i listened to A LOT while writing this. thank you again for all of your kindness and support. i truly don’t think i could have finished this without it 💖

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

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The last couple days had been… good.

Vaggie had approached you the morning after your little sleepover with Angel to see if you’d actually take her up on the offer of managing the hotel’s books. It was a welcome distraction, easily falling back into the routine of your old work. And honestly, their records keeping system needed a complete overhaul. It kept you busy and focused, hours passing like minutes as you honed in on creating the foundations of your system.

Funny how in Hell the work you had always approached with a level of disdain in life had become something to look forward to. Something that was all yours. It was nice. Familiar.

Ironic.

You also hadn’t gone to the bar — the biggest improvement, or at least the one you were happiest about. Feeling more like yourself again and less like your father, who had been no stranger to bouts of liquored-up sulking. It was not a way you wanted to remember him by, nor make a habit of for the eons to come. And beyond just feeling better without alcohol in your system, it was great to see Husk in a more friendly capacity again. Haunting his bar in the way you did wasn’t something you were ever planning to subject either of you any time soon. 

You were regaining a level of comfortability in your room as well. Sleeping better in your bed, which had been difficult to do. For the first few days you slept on the loveseat, where you’ve now spent the last two nights curled up with a book in front of the fireplace.

It was a decent distraction, but thoughts of Alastor still plagued you. Try as you might, it was hard for them not to. He felt so present as you went about your day despite maintaining the separation; feeling his aura hovering around you like a sixth sense. You wanted to ask Husk and Niffty if they felt it like you did — if at all — but hadn’t gotten the nerve yet to do so.

What if they said no?

It was too embarrassing even to think of. The possibility of it being some kind of adverse affect from sleeping with him making your blood rush to your face. 

Maybe I took a piece of him, too… 

The heat on your cheeks intensified at the thought. Isn’t that exactly what had happened?

Sure, in a literal sense he had been the one to take a piece of you. But in return, you had witnessed him in yet another state that no one else — in this building, at least — ever had. Just the fact that he had let you help undress him… That wasn’t something you look lightly, even at the peak of your anger toward him. The nervous way your heart fluttered against your ribs at the memory only further proved the point.

You wanted the opportunity to do it again. Undress him, that is. 

What followed after wasn’t of much consequence; you’d be satisfied just the same. Whether that was helping him out of his day clothes and into pajamas or preparing him to pound you into the mattress — either result was made from the same circumstance. You found you had enjoyed it even more than dressing down his bed for the evening, which had always been a nearly meditative part of your day.

Or, well… it used to be.

Did he even bother with that now? Hell, did he ever? Or was it just more busywork? If it was… you missed it.

Taking care of Alastor was tedious at times but it hadn’t been all bad. He was petulant too, which is probably why he was always deflecting and pointing the finger in your face. But past his venom there was charm. His euphemisms and anecdotes. Grumbling into the newspaper with his ears downcast whenever he came across an unpleasant article, which happened more often than not. 

He enjoyed his coffee black and extra hot, but god forbid if it was burnt. That was one of the first things you had been tasked with perfecting, and mercifully, had been able to accomplish. Alastor never made you handle his food, not out of lack of trust but courtesy. Due to the gruesome reality of what he enjoyed eating, it wasn’t a chore he ever charged you with. And you’d busy yourself with cleaning while he ate to allow him as much privacy as possible. 

As much as he adored the structure of his morning routine, beyond that the day was his for the taking. Living the monotonous life that you had, it was admirable. Sometimes inspiring. He had a mischievous, opportunistic outlook on existence — no doubt a quality that followed him into the afterlife — while you had been (presumably) buried jaded and trepidatious.

He was… fun. Even when he was irritating. 

Before Rosie pawned you off on him, the last time you had ever felt something close to fun was killing your grandmother. A horrifying revelation, but true, though that had more to do with the satisfaction you felt from it than anything. But fun was something that was right at your fingertips with Alastor, when you looked back on the last couple weeks. He had quite the proclivity for antics when he wasn’t being crushed by the weight of his self-imposed grandeur.

The memory of when he brought you back to the alley the day after what you had done came to mind. His inspection of the bag you’d left behind had upset you so much in the moment, but now all you can remember is the glimmer in his eyes. The nearly childlike glee in his fanged smile. Sure, it had been at your expense, but that was how he liked to joke. Satire and whimsy adorned with the pretty bow of his voice and charm.

But his jokes were sometimes too one-sided. His delivery too harsh and actions… demeaning. It wasn’t a facet he aimed at you often but the sting of his cruelty ran deep, almost to the bone. Your hand came up to your throat, the pain in your neck only barely subsided. It had been impossible to tell if the chain had bruised you under all of Alastor’s love bites, but if you were being honest with yourself, there was no way it hadn’t. If even just a little.

You made due with covering yourself up. Managing to find some high-collared button up shirts left to rot in the laundry room. Nothing a good washing wasn’t able to fix. And as the days passed and the marks faded, you were able to transition back into more familiar (and revealing, in comparison) pieces of your wardrobe.

Still, being left to your own devices when Alastor had been the one responsible for not only the marks but ruining the dress that would’ve easily solved your problems with its modesty nicked at you. Not that you had expected gifts after the argument, but considering how he made you wear that dress as uniform there was no way he didn’t have plans to provide a replacement that morning. But it never came. 

Instead he had given you a threat and left you on the floor in nothing but a towel, feeling used and humiliated and alone. And yet here you were, with a book in your hand you hadn’t absorbed the last few pages of because your mind was busy remembering the feeling of removing Alastor’s coat.  

Or how disheveled and boyish he looked the morning you went into his room without permission and found him in bed. The strain in his eyes before you walked into Valentino’s arms. His drawn brows and open, kiss-swollen mouth when he made you his own on the bed right behind you. That face would haunt you for the rest of your afterlife.

But there was another face that earned the honor, too. An expression that eclipsed even your grandmother’s worst sneer. Was what you said to him that morning really so outrageous that it had warranted such wrath and disdain? Alastor had been in quite a decent mood too, before the conversation took a turn. Not that it made you feel any better, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something bigger than that. You had copped attitude before and Alastor had either laughed it off as a mild tantrum or course-corrected you before you even had a chance to realize it.

Beyond that, there were also the things he had done after you fell asleep, face buried in his scarred chest. The medicine he had waiting at the ready for when you inevitably woke up from the ache of his bite, which he had taken the liberty of cleaning and bandaging. He had more than likely done it by hand as well, the same as when he tended to it on your bed that awful morning. No magic, no minions. Despite being the least he could do since he inflicted the wound, that didn’t mean he had to do it himself. But he did.

Your stomach turned thinking about it. The force of his anger just didn’t match up with the efforts he took in caring for you after your entanglement. It was the push and pull you had been battling all week, and your eyes flitted to the door. Going up to his room wasn’t something you had entertained, knowing better than to try and call Alastor’s bluff, but the desire to speak with him now was a temptation you worried you’d lose the battle against. 

Knock.

The single, hollow sound echoing off the door sent a jolt through your body, sitting up from your relaxed position on the small sofa near the fireplace. It was Friday, wasn’t it? Meaning everyone had left the hotel already except for you and…

There’s no way.

Your pulse spiked. 

Maybe you just imagined it. Or the hotel was settling. Things like that could still happen to buildings in the afterlife, right? Ghosts and hauntings and creaks and groans seemed fairly on-brand for Hell. Alastor’s shadow — that you had found yourself missing as well — was proof of that all on its own. 

It was that final thought that brought you to the door, hand hovering over the knob as your breath thinned; perspiration beading your skin like morning dew. Tormented by the prospect that opening it would either reveal him or nothing at all.

Unsure of which you were hoping for as you let your forehead fall forward, a huff of air passing your lips. Eyes closed as you relaxed into the cool lacquer of the wooden door, reaching out. Alastor felt especially close now. Typical that he would show up now that you were not only beginning to feel better, but also reaching the end of your rope in your banishment from him. If you weren’t too busy fighting the whiplash of frustration and want coursing through you, you would have laughed. 

Even reconciliation had to be on his schedule…

If he was actually on the other side of the door wanting to make up, of course. This could all be your imagination, which would be particularly cruel on your mind’s part considering how just moments ago you were feeling so desperate to see him, if only just to talk. You sighed, condensation from your warm breath pilling under your mouth hovering near the door.

Was he really there?

Your hand gripped the handle in response, heart heavy and loud in your chest as you turned it and pulled. There was only one way to know for sure.

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Alastor took you in as you opened the door. An apprehensive expression on your face, but with an underlying relief. Though he didn’t need eyesight for the confirmation. Your heartbeat and scent told him all he needed to know with an honesty that betrayed you for his benefit. It was rather unfair, wasn’t it?

The life coming back to your eyes did not go unnoticed, either.

He felt what was left of his vitriol drain out of him, and in a rare moment of self-deprecation he found himself hoping his unpolished state would put you at ease. Despite the lingering tension that was still eating away at him, he truly did wish to avoid an argument. Shouting matches were simply… nasty. In a way he did not much, if at all, enjoy. 

Conversation is called an art for a reason.

A true favorite of his and it was much more his speed. With such an adaptable form you could be fencing one minute and duetting the next. Unless, of course, the conversation was bad, which was a fate worse than death. But that hadn’t been a problem with you, for the most part. He’d like that to be the case now as he prepared to linger for as long as it took to reach some kind of resolution. 

Things couldn’t stay the way they were. He knew you’d both return to yourselves eventually, but you had gotten a head start on him. Leaving him to grasp at what was on the other side of this only in regard to himself. If ever he needed you, you’d be just a summoning away. Tied to him always by your contract. Something that typically provided a sense of security to the point of aloofness. But the uncertainty of how you would approach your days independent of him in the aftermath made him falter. Made evident by the color that had returned to your face, that spark of ferocity in your eyes. 

Deep down he understood that you would carry on. 

Tied to him, yes, but not entangled. There was an unpleasant tightness in his chest at the thought, his jaw flexing with irritation. He wasn’t through exploring this, relishing the fire he felt in his blood at seeing you again up close, lungs taking in your scent to feed the flame. Your racing heart a sonnet so sweet in a way that only he could truly appreciate. Feeding a part of him that either had not existed or had been lying dormant which, now awakened, was eager for more and he found himself wondering when it ever would be satiated.

More of your voice ringing in his ears, whether it was coated in insolence or lust… or laughter. More of your scent in his lungs, oxygenating his blood with the bliss of childhood summers. More of your taste on his tongue. Blood, sweat, tears. He’d take it all, or whichever morsels you were still willing to give him. Even if all that left him with was cordiality, it would be far better than letting you slip through his fingers. How wasted you would be on some tramp off the street. Not even taking into account that the average soul couldn’t appreciate your scent, attributes like responsibility and integrity weren’t typically admired here in the pit.

Who else could see you the way he did? 

Past the pout of your lips to the lethal fangs hiding behind them; that sleeping anger you managed to keep at bay but weren’t afraid to use if necessary. Would you ever reveal that ferocity and glowing eyes to someone else in the ways he had witnessed them — induced by tapping into some of your baser instincts? It made stomach twist just to think it. 

Alastor’s imagination began to run away from him then. Flashes of you making some other sinner’s bed, fetching their coffee, and picking up clothes. Drawing a bath, hanging their coat, laughing at their jokes. That now-dear sulk of yours aimed at the faceless menace when one of those jokes went too far. Phantom hands stripping you of clothes, cupping your face, roaming your body… holding your chin. And though his urges were few and far between, worse still was the thought of you crying out a stranger’s name like a reverent prayer, writhing underneath them as you fell apart.

Foul.

Bile scorched his throat as he fought to maintain his composure in your doorway. The filthy handprints he had just pictured all over you gone in the blink of an eye as his own hand twitched behind his back, eager to hold you once more and feel the heat of your skin soak into his palm. Easy as it would be to reach out and satisfy the urge he refrained from doing so, smothering his desire in his fist. Now wasn’t the right time to succumb to impulse. 

As much as Alastor wanted to pull you into his embrace he knew there was still a hatchet to bury. You had touched quite the nerve that morning, after all, and his actions had been less than genteel as a result. As justified as he had felt at the time, it settled in now as something he was less than proud of. Warranted… What a fool he was to think so. Though misguided, all you had done was try to make sense of things. You would be well within your rights to sever any further personal ties with him, and he swallowed against the anxious lump in his throat.

He had spent so much time wallowing in liquor, wasted countless hours justifying his anger toward you to ease his own unrest. Even if you had picked the fight… hadn’t he brought you right to the edge of it with his antics over the past weeks? In truth, hadn’t making you lose your composure been his goal from the start? He had certainly got what he wanted, just not in a way that was originally intended; culminating in a misunderstanding that threatened to keep parts of yourself locked away from him for, quite possibly, eternity.

Desiring someone’s comfort the way he did yours was something he never expected to have to face, let alone something he ever feared to lose. Alastor wondered for the first time how things between you would be had you met sooner. Granted, you had only been in Hell for two-or-so months, but he was a different man now than he was even then. The Alastor of two months ago still had his microphone, for starters. His sword and shield. Now nothing but another one of his corpses left to decay in the bayou.

That man hadn’t had his confidence shaken, his power drained. Alastor had felt so invigorated when he retreated to the radio tower to mend himself after battling Adam, but the healing process hadn’t been simple. Seeing as the weapon that caused the wound was made of angelic steel, Alastor expected it would take more time than usual, but he had underestimated the reality of it. So many arduous, slow hours had passed as he used all his strength just to make minute progress in closing the gash. It took a week to finally get it to seal, the scar barely formed by the time he encountered you at Rosie’s. 

Simply put, you had weathered emotional storms that he typically had much better control of. There was a sourness in his soul that had been poisoning him from the very beginning of your relationship, which you took — more often than not — in stride. As much as he felt there was no one who fully appreciated you, Alastor believed it to be a two way street. Whether there was anyone else who could take your place — paramour, caretaker, or otherwise — was inconsequential. He simply wasn’t interested in the prospect. Hadn’t he gotten along just fine in his relative solitude before you fell to suffer your infernal fate? 

It wouldn’t be the same.

It already wasn’t, in fact, which is why his feet had brought him here when his stubbornness wouldn’t. Opening the door to him was only the first step. You could still slam it in his face, effectively shutting him out; leaving him standing alone in the hall as the Overlord who owned your soul and nothing more.

He found it to be a dreadful prospect.

“May I come in?”

Even he could hear the exhaustion in his voice, making the question heavy in air as he watched you contemplate. Nervous fingers tapping the doorframe to the same beat as his heart before you stepped off to the side to make way for him. Alastor managed to fight the instinctual twitch at the corners of his mouth. Now wasn’t the time for smiling, despite the wave of relief he felt at your accepting of his request to enter.

As long as it takes…

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You watched as Alastor practically collapsed on your sofa, massaging his temples with a single hand as he leaned back to cross his legs. Still doing his best to maintain decorum despite how worn out he was. Discontent, you shifted on your feet, not wanting to give into the pity you felt towards him too easily. 

As much as you tried to remember your anger, there was no denying the relief you felt at being near him again. Hearing his voice. And knowing he could pick up on it only made it worse. Would it ever be anything but an uphill battle for you when it came to him? Your eyes couldn’t help but look just past him to where you had fallen to the floor, left to console yourself in your shame and grief. The memory didn’t fuel what was left of your animosity, but pricked at your sadness instead, making you feel the weight of the day.

I’m so sick of this…

Alastor’s gaze followed you as you moved to take your seat next to him, picking your book up off the cushion and placing it on the small coffee table in front of you. His eyes and hand lingered on the cover as you sat down.

“I just missed the first draft,” he said quietly, static replaced with the distant sound of remembrance. Eyes never leaving your copy of A Farewell to Arms as he continued with a small, humorless laugh. “I was eligible for the others but the only Divisions I could have been placed in were booked. Funny, isn’t it, a quota on the worthiness to die at war? But I suppose that’s a conversation for another time…”

The glimpse of his human life caught you off guard. Vulnerability wasn’t something you expected from him, especially not in the wake of your argument; the admission was given so casually you couldn’t help but soften just a bit, leaving you hungry for more of his secrets. 

He turned to you then, somehow looking even more tired than he had before. “We have our own battle to rectify, don’t we?”

You sighed and positioned your body to face him, bringing your legs up to sit criss-cross. This was shaping up to be a long night, so you decided you might as well get this out of the way. Even managing to get a piqued eyebrow out of him from the sober look that was no doubt on your face as you considered what you were about to say. 

“I wasn’t lying when I told you that I enjoyed our…,” you trailed off, looking for the right word.

Our what? 

Things had become so muddled you weren't quite sure what to call it. Sex, obviously, but… it had felt like more to you in the end. No matter how many times you reminded yourself that it wasn’t supposed to be anything other than a one night stand at best — and had spent the whole week drowning your sorrows trying not to think about the worst.

“I know you weren’t.” He said it in almost the same tone when you had admitted it in the first place, but his eyes were soft. “I enjoyed it myself, the second time. I thought that was obvious, but when you asked about the pheromones that morning… they had nothing to do with it. Not that evening. I… initiated that. Which is why I was so incensed by the implication that I was acting outside of myself.”

The confession sunk to the bottom of your stomach. You hadn’t expected him to be so forthcoming and even keeled regarding it. And while you felt relief that the pheromones weren’t at play that evening — and that he had not only enjoyed, but desired it — you didn’t miss the implication of the words he kept to himself regarding how you ended up in this mess in the first place. The more you thought about it, the more you were beginning to understand why he felt the way he did. Was that why he had returned you to your room to wake up alone, because being in his bed was too much of a reminder? Had he really regretted it that much? 

Because you didn’t.

The truth was you had been more than willing to give yourself to him that afternoon. Yes, you knew something wasn’t quite right, but you didn’t know he was fighting against Valentino’s nasty little trick. You’d never know what would’ve happened if you had denied him instead, because that’s not what happened. Would he have gone into a rage? In the state he was in, that wasn’t an impossibility. In fact, that was what you had been expecting, wasn’t it? In a way you dodged a bullet — received his affections, however intense, instead of his violence. The bruised remnants of his mark on your shoulder were a dizzying mix of both. 

Though the ferocity you received the next morning… had it been lying in wait? Using the chain on you the way he did compounded by the words he spat at you was a tough memory to forget, to the point where you wondered if you ever could. He had only punished you that way one other time, but it had been nothing compared to this. Blood burned under your cheeks as you recalled how humiliated you felt. How different would things be right now if he had just let you stay?

“Look I…,” you sighed and ran a hand through your hair, but resisted the urge to look away from him. “I really do understand why you’re unhappy with how things happened that afternoon but…”

Here goes nothing.

“It’s something I’ve been aware of in myself for a little while but… you don’t know how much it meant to me, being touched that way by you and how you let me touch you back it —” You wiped a tear you couldn’t stop from falling and cleared your throat, but the thick, choking feeling didn’t subside. The pinched look on Alastor’s face nearly sent you over the edge, but you couldn’t stop now that you’ve started. He needed to hear this as much as you needed to say it. “It made me really happy, if that’s even the right word for it.”

It wasn’t. But you didn’t know how else you could try to tell him how wanted and safe you felt underneath him. That no one had ever managed to turn your blood to kerosene; every bit of him the match, the bed behind you kindling. At this point it didn’t really matter that you hadn’t known him for very long. You cared about him, much more than you ever expected to, and you wanted to be near him in whatever capacity you could be. Whether that made you his errand girl or concubine, so long as you were spared from the more acidic side of his temper.

“And when I think about how much you regret it, it kills me, even though I know why you do. But… I don’t. You didn’t take advantage of me, if that’s something you’ve been worrying about. Honestly, now I can’t help but wonder if it’s the other way around…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he huffed, lightly exasperated as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve only ever gone along with my impulses and games. My behavior in this has been… unbecoming. I fear my mother would be quite ashamed, and rightfully so, but you’ve come to know me at a low point.”

Everything about him felt wrung out and far off, from his posture to the defeat in his unfiltered voice. It had been absent from the moment he asked to come inside, but for some reason was only hitting you now. Though you couldn’t fight the ache in your heart from the poor state of him, there was still more you needed to know before you could let yourself give in. No matter what subconscious queues your body was undoubtedly feeding him in the meantime.

“You say unbecoming…,” you began tentatively, worried that what you were about to ask could possibly upset him again. “Is that because of how you punished me that morning, or the toying you’ve subjected me to?”

If you had to choose, you really hoped that he’d feel apologetic for the chain. While they could be annoying, his games and tricks were mostly harmless. You had admitted to yourself not too long ago that you were even beginning to miss them. That was not a feeling you extended to the invisible leash that bound you to him, not the way it had been used then, at least.

Alastor removed the hand from his nose to meet your eyes, the speed of his movement catching you off guard. For the first time all night his eyes were clear and earnest; that steadfast, hypnotizing red you had come to seek and cherish.

“Would you accept it if I said both? By pushing you I think I may have set us up for the argument. I won’t say that what you said that morning didn’t upset me, since it did, but… Perhaps if I had given you less reason to think I was playing at another game it would have never happened in the first place.” 

His voice was soft as he held his left hand out to you, a different charge in the air as your eyes broke contact to flicker down to his open palm.

The olive branch.

There was no doubt he could hear the way your heart had picked up, nearly choking you with its fervor as you swallowed against it… and gave him your hand. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“I was so humiliated that morning… I’ve been so mad at you.”

Alastor could hear the tears threatening to spill behind the statement, and he squeezed your hand before his thumb began to rub in soothing circles as you looked away from him for the first time that night. He took a quick moment to follow your line of sight and grimaced when he realized you were looking at the spot where he had treated you so harshly. There was nothing he could do to take back what he did. Regret was such an awful weight, reminding him of long nights trudging through the swamp to discard one of his victims. His mouth soured. It would seem he’d need to add your name to the list.

Things were never meant to end up this way. This… tangled.

He dared to lean forward, not that there was much distance to close on your quaint loveseat, and cupped your face with his other hand to draw your gaze back to his. The conflict in your eyes went right to his stomach with a kick — the chance that you would turn him away forever still there, but he was thankful you hadn’t rejected his touch. He really couldn’t have suffered through the empty ache in his hands for even another minute; the heat of your skin already refilling his cup.

And despite how much he wanted anything but, he knew he had to give you an out. It was only right.

“I was a brute… I can’t undo what’s been done but if you’d like me to leave you alone, I will. I’m not keen on releasing you from our contract, but I would let you leave this hotel if you wish.” The words scorched his tongue, but they were true. He would let you go if that’s what you really wanted. You deserved that chance. “It’s safer here, but I would know immediately if you faced any trouble. Well… any trouble you couldn’t handle yourself, that is. I know how capable you are.”

Alastor gave you a small smile, the first time his lips had curled up with any sincerity for days. It was the most generous offer he had ever given a soul under his heel, and your short, dry laugh in response was music to his ears. There was no bitterness in the sound, nor was there any coming from your scent, but that wasn’t an indication of what was going on in your mind. Something the Overlord needed to remind himself of more often. He took a moment to really breathe you in then, floral notes of almond warming him on the inside as your body warmed him from out. Would it be the last time he was ever surrounded by you like this? 

He didn’t know when his thumb began to absently stroke your cheek, but he loved the flush it brought to your face as you considered his words. A hint of iron gave the sweetness in the air just enough bite to make him swallow, his throat now parched and wanting. It took all he had not to close the remaining space between you, needing your answer before he would move an inch save the part of him caressing your face.

A jolt ran through him as your eyes locked onto his with a resolve that made his hair stand on edge, and he steeled himself as your lips parted to speak. Never could he have imagined that you would join the short list of people to hold his fate in their palm. And fewer still, one that he didn’t hold resentment toward having that power. There was security in your hold, not malice. Such a rare thing to stumble across even in life, let alone in this sulfurous chasm that had been home for the last near-century. As unworthy as he felt to receive it, the thought of losing it was even worse. He wasn’t in love… but it wasn’t impossible that he could be, with more time. 

If you would give it to him.

“I don’t want to leave the hotel,” you said quietly, and brought your free hand up to hold his chin in the same way he had held yours countless times. 

Alastor felt his ears lower despite how attuned they were to hear what you would say next, though the thumping in his chest didn’t help. To reach out and touch him of your own accord this way was bold, and he tried not to hone in on the bashfulness he felt burning his face. Why choose shame when he could have comfort? That was what he wanted, after all. A reprieve from The Radio Demon. There was nothing to be gained in postering, not with you. With you he could be… anything. And no matter your decision, he vowed to provide you with the same space. 

His schemes to mold you into something you weren’t fled him with every exhale of his lungs. It was a senseless desire… Remorseless murders were a dime a dozen here. Thrilling as it had been to see you decapitate that wretch with your teeth, the fact that you refused to do something akin to that again merely for the sake of it like so many others was refreshing. He could appreciate only killing with purpose. That had been his modus operandi in life, after all. Murder was a tool he now used to illicit fear and respect, though most souls here were free game to him even under his mortal code. You were not, and it had taken him much too long to acknowledge it.

“And I don’t want you to leave me alone… ever again, but…”

But…

The shakiness in your voice felt like the blade of a guillotine, hovering above his neck while he agonized over when you would let the rope loose and seal his fate.

“I don’t know if I could handle that again. The chain, your anger — ” A small sob escaped you then, tearing through him like a hurricane. 

Alastor didn’t even realize he was kissing your face until the salt of your tears registered on his tongue. Every little press of his lips an oath to never make you cry like this because of him ever again. And when your hands cupped his cheeks he only had a moment to relish in his relief, sighing against your skin before you captured his lips with yours. A familiar green glow enveloping you both as an unspoken agreement was made.

Peace.

What a magnanimous gift to receive. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Low voices pulled you out of sleep, making you aware of the cold that was beginning to sink into the front of your body. You had been so warm… so comfortable.

Safe.

More mumbling at your door as you groaned, the grievance in the sound not lost on you even in your groggy state. It wasn’t lost on Alastor either, saying something you couldn’t decipher beyond its tone of finality followed by the closing of the door.

“It’s still the middle of the night sweetheart, don’t stir.” 

You didn’t even have time to ask who was at the door before he ran a soothing hand through your hair, maneuvering himself back into place in your bed. Pressing the length of his body in close against yours as he nuzzled into your chest, humming as he found the pulse of your heart. The warm, claiming kiss he placed there sent a shiver through you, your shared embrace tightening in response. 

“What’s gotten into you? You promised you’d be good,” you mumbled, wriggling a little from the way his breath tickled your skin.

Even to yourself the warning was half-admonishing at best. But you were also just barely awake. Fingers betraying you as they lightly massaged his undercut, his contented sigh making you hide your face in his hair as if he could see the flush on your cheeks.

You’d be stronger in the morning.

Pet names and kisses like this weren’t something you were expecting to receive again so soon. It had been discussed, and you had both agreed to try and take things slow. A fresh start, of sorts. While you were used to him calling you dear, it was a term he used frequently toward other residents as well.

Sweetheart was… special.

Which he no doubt knew. Most likely saying it when he did so he could press up and relish your rapid heart like you were none the wiser.

“I know, I know,” he conceded, his words muffled by your skin. Inadvertently kissing you more due to the sheer proximity of his lips to your chest. Feeling closer to you now than he had during intimacy.

And, admittedly, cuddling in bed wasn’t exactly what you’d call taking it slow. But by the time you had finished talking — and making out on the loveseat — the two of you were so exhausted that letting him spend the night had seemed innocent enough. Like platonically sharing a bed with a friend. Though that’s not a word you would use to describe what Alastor was to you.

More than friends, not quite lovers. Beholden to each other all the same. 

“Which is why I’ll only do this… for now.”

Alastor’s words and the warning, low tone of his voice hardly registered before you felt his tongue lap at the valley between your breasts, leaving a scorching trail in its wake that made your breath hitch. The soft groan from his open mouth right over your heart only making it beat harder, pleading for more of him. His large palm splayed against your back as he pressed you against his lips to nestle and kiss and suck, as if trying to pull the frantic organ through your skin through desire alone. You gasped as the light prick of his nails between your shoulders sent a fresh shiver down your spine, ending in a warm bloom between your hips as you curled into his touch. His responding needy hum as he grazed you with his teeth making you whimper.

Stronger in the morning…

“You’re not playing fair,” you complained, but it was a pathetic attempt at a scolding. You didn’t really want him to stop. Alastor’s responding chuckle told you that he knew it, too. The sound of it making your heart ache, and you were unable to suppress the small whine from behind your closed lips as he nipped and licked at your collarbone. “I missed you so much.”

You barely managed to finish speaking when he moved up to kiss you properly, slow and sweet, hand leaving your back to cradle the crown of your head. Melting into his touch, you moaned as his tongue entered your mouth; gentle and hot, coaxing whimpers and gasps from both of you as you tangled your fingers in his hair to keep him close. 

“I missed you, too,” he said quietly, nudging your nose with his. 

Tears fell unbidden as Alastor caressed and kissed the lingering bruises from his bite, seemingly determined to make them disappear through sheer willpower. Every little touch — administered or received — was comforting in a way that you feared would leave you insatiable, but the thought that formed in your mind through the haze of affection was a reassuring one.

This was eternity.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Fess up, toots.” Angel plopped down on a chair across from you, gleaming as he rested his head in his hands and leaned forward conspiratorially. “You’re havin’ all kinds of sleepovers now, huh?”

You nearly dropped the mug in your hands from the sudden question, and quickly looked around to see if anyone else had overheard. Not that the reconciliation was going to be secret — which would have been impossible to pull off anyway, considering how much the two of you had been moping around the hotel — but you had hoped to at least make it through the morning with the knowledge kept to yourselves. 

“That was you at the door last night, I’m assuming?” The nonchalance you were aiming for just enough to get a laugh from him. “What did you say to him anyway?”

“Just that I was checkin’ up on my girl — which he did not appreciate me callin’ ya, by the way — after missin’ the big night out. I hope I didn’t send him to bed too mad.” Judging by the smug look on Angel’s face, he knew that Alastor definitely had returned to bed at least a little ruffled. “Buuut after I heard ya wakin’ up I figured I’d save the teasin’ for another day.”

“And you started bright and early,” you quipped, unable to help the smile tugging at your lips as you went back to preparing the breakfast tray. 

“Well ya ain’t exactly bein’ subtle, what with the two mugs and all,” Angel taunted, jerking his head in the tray’s direction, “but jokes aside… I’m glad you were able to patch things up with Smiles. Who woulda thought all it’d take was an empty hotel, huh?” He gave you a wink and you narrowed your eyes at the suggestion, but he cut you off before you could even begin to ask the question forming in your mind. “Look, I gotta run, but I’m expectin’ a full report when I get back from work, capisce? Oh! Speakin’a which — guess who’s supposed to be on set tomorrow?”

It was your turn to laugh. “It’s about time that lazy bitch went back to work. Making the rest of you pick up the slack is just rude.”

You both snickered as you added the finishing touches on the tray, rounding out the coffee with some croissants and fruit. It definitely paid to be in the Princess’ circle; grapes in particular were very hard to come by. There wasn’t much time to relish in your mirth with Angel before you felt a cool, slinking tendril climb up your leg. Alastor’s shadow soon emerging over your shoulder to glare at your friend and whine in your ear.

Angel put all four of his hands up in mock defeat and pushed away from the table. “Duty calls, I get it,” he chuckled and gave you a knowing look, popping a grape from the tray into his mouth before making his way out of the kitchen. “Make sure the boss man knows ya got plans for tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you called after him, glancing behind you as the shadow growled at the spot where Angel Dust had been. Its face reverted back to sullenness when you pursed your lips, admonishing him with only a look. Any lingering irritation dissolved as it tugged at your sleeve, urging you back upstairs, and you conceded with a sigh. “You wouldn’t even be here to come get me if it wasn’t for Angel, you know. I expect you to be nicer next time.”

The shadow nodded its head and pulled on you again, its phantom grin quickly returning when you picked up the tray and began to walk back to the elevators. Baseless hostility toward Angel aside, it was hard not to smile as you watched it flitter across the floor; pausing every few feet to materialize and look back, ensuring you were right behind it. If your theories about this creature were right, it was merely acting as an extension of the demon you were making your way back to, and he was apparently quite eager for your return. A warm rush of pride left your body tingling at the thought.

Then again… it wouldn’t do well for the two of you to be late to your sudden appointment with Rosie. Who, according to Alastor, was very anxious to see you both and had something special planned that he had nothing to do with.

Yeah, right… 

When you entered your room, you found Alastor at the loveseat still lounging in his pajamas and you scoffed, “That was a lot of urgency from someone who hasn’t gotten dressed yet.”

“Well, I had to do something. Our mutual friend was getting you off-track. I thought we took the same pleasure in this morning routine of ours, but perhaps I’m mistaken?” Alastor’s tone was light, his smile teasing as he watched the blush burn your face.

You cleared your throat as you took a seat next to him after setting down the tray and decided to change the subject. What point was there in admitting what he already knew?

“Rumor has it that Donny’s finally scheduled back to work tomorrow,” you said conversationally, helping yourself to some of the fruit.

Alastor’s eyebrows shot up in surprise before his face lit up in a hearty laugh; the ebullient sound of it making the mark he had left over your heart radiate with fondness. His face sharpened with that menacing, debonair grin as he looked down at you while you poured his coffee.

“Took him long enough to pull himself together, didn’t it? You did do quite a number on him, darling.”

You hummed, pleased with the proud look he gave you, and passed him the mug; a shock running through you as your fingers touched. Silly, considering how you had been pressed together all evening… not to mention all the other marks he left that matched the one currently throbbing between your breasts. 

Even in life, you never could have imagined something like this. Sitting in the parlor with a suitor, giggling over coffee and breakfast after an evening of whispering sweet nothings between kisses. It would be foolish to think a peace like this could last forever, but this was the afterlife. Wasn’t peace the absolution from mortality and its fickleness? As you watched Alastor sip his coffee, his free hand absently massaging the back of your neck as he hummed along to the radio, you couldn’t help but think so. 

Peace, friendship, sanctuary, love, and power.

Hell wasn’t what you had expected it to be. It was home.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

ps: a special shoutout to my darlings @hazelfoureyes and @sugoi-writes for giving me their shoulders to lean on while i worked on this final chapter. you both have listened to me ramble off ideas and scenarios and have supported me with such patience and grace… i don’t know how i’ll ever repay you but i will never stop trying!

pps: i do have plans for an epilogue, but don’t have a timeline on it just yet… stay tuned 😌💖

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmiccandydreamer, @stardustandbrimstone, @cherry-cola-100, @wonderlandangelsposts , @catticora, @velvette3, @sailorsmouth, @alastorthirsty, @reath-solia, @junieshohoho, @cxrsedwxrlds, @fraugwinska, @littlebluefishtail, @nxcxllxsevens, @swagkittybear

[chaos-in-deepspace]

L&DS Rafayel: Mischievous Pandas | 18+

Damn imagine me finally writing this after it's been a solid week since Zayne's part...maybe longer I dunno. My wrists were killing me and I took a break and now they're better and primed for me to destroy them again! Enjoy this fic tho guys XOXO

♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Pairings: Rafayel x Reader ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Warnings: Unsafe Sex, Teasing, Dry Humping, Creampie ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Synopsis: Rafayel was always willing to go along with your small whims. When you offered him a panda outfit, telling him how much fun it would be to match, he obviously said yes. Little did he know the mischievousness it would bring. ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Word Count: 5k~

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Rafayel

Mischievous Pandas

“You know, I’m thinking perhaps I should paint a bamboo forest under the sea now that I’m wearing this.” You could hear Rafayel’s voice call out of the bathroom. You were already comfortable in bed as you glanced over, wondering when your man was finally going to leave the bathroom.

Low and behold, Rafayel finally came out of the bathroom clad in a beautiful panda outfit that happened to be a perfect match to your own. You had seen them in a shop recently and found them so ridiculous that you bought two of them so you guys could be matching. Rafayel was always one to go along with your random whims and agreed readily when you asked him to put it on for you.

You sat up in the bed, looking him over with a broad smile, “Well aren’t you just the cutest lil thing.” You teased with a small chuckle escaping you. Rafayel’s cheeks went a bit red, but other than that seemed to be unaffected by your words. He walked over to the bed, leaning down with his hands on either side of you.

���Shouldn’t that be my line?” He shot right back at you with a flirtatious smirk. You giggled as you cupped his cheeks, giving them a small squeeze until he flinched back and felt his face as though you had just smacked him, “I didn’t realize Pandas were known for violence.”

“Pandas are very vicious creatures, Raffie. We are still bears.” That was a lie and everyone knew it. You had watched videos on pandas recently and honestly it was a miracle the species was able to ever survive outside of captivity.

“I’m sure they are.” Rafayel teased as he looked you over, “I must say though, I didn’t expect to see my bodyguard wearing something like this. I thought you preferred more tactical apparel.” He went on.

“This is as tactical as it comes. It’s baggy enough that you’d never be able to see the full body chainmail underneath, or the several weapons I have. I look innocent.” You huffed and Rafayel’s eyes went over your body with a satisfied hum.

“Full body chainmail, my that’s fancy. Where’d you manage to get that?” Rafayel said, finally crawling on the bed to join you. His hand went over to you, pulling you closer to him so he could cuddle up with you. It was his favorite way of spending his evenings with you, and you were never one to complain when it came to being pressed up against him.

“Oh you know, I used your credit card and bought it off the black market. The usual shindig.” You explained nonchalantly as you adjusted yourself in his grasp. You got comfortable in his arms and rested your head on his bicep. As soon as you said this Rafayel gave a shocked gasp, pushing you away from him dramatically.

“You used my card and didn’t even purchase one for me?” He said, a playful pout on his lips.

“You don’t need chainmail if I’m protecting you, Mr Artsy Panda.” You said as you tried getting close to him. Rafayel scooched away from you for a moment and you chuckled, crawling closer. He kept trying to get away after noticing the glint in your eyes. So much so that he didn’t realize when he was on the edge of the bed until he fell back.

There was a small crash and a grunt and you paused, eyes wide as you processed. Then you broke out into a fit of giggles, curling in on yourself as you looked down at Rafayel. The man was pouting at you from his spot on the floor, “You can’t even protect me from the floor.” He whined.

“Oh don’t be so dramatic. If you weren’t so desperate to escape your loving partner this would’ve never happened. Now get back up here.” You said, looking down at the bed. He looked absolutely hilarious and your shoulders were still shaking from your laughter.

“I dunno, I’m just a lazy panda. Not sure if I could manage to muster up the energy to get back up.” He said, holding his hand, “I think I might need my heroic bodyguard to help me.” 

You shook your head at his dramatics and leaned over, holding your hand out to him. This was a mistake on your part, one you should've seen coming. As soon as his hand took yours, he dragged you down to the floor with him. You collided with his chest, the blanket around your waist tangling your legs and trapping you against him.

“Much better.” Rafayel said as he looked at the angry pout on your face. He cupped your cheek and placed a small kiss on your forehead, “Now we’re both stuck here.”

“I would like a refund. I want to be on the bed.” You said as you began untangling yourself from the man. Rafayel wasn't having any of it, wrapping his arms around you and trapping you properly this time. “Raaaaaaf.” You groaned, hitting his chest.

“You don’t need to go up there, we have a bed right here. We have pillows and blankets.” Rafayel explained and you looked at him with a confused expression.

“We got a blanket but I ain’t seein no pillows, bro.” You huffed. That was when Rafayel switched positions, forcing you onto your back as he laid his head on your chest.

“Yes we do.” He said, nuzzling his face into you. 

You pushed on his forehead, whining about him being heavy for a moment before realizing he had really trapped you. You looked up at the ceiling, opting to just run your fingers through his hair as he relaxed onto your body. You felt his grip slackening as you cuddled with him on the floor, his guard slowly slipping.

As soon as the man of your dreams, the one you loved and adored, was relaxed against you, you kneed him in the stomach just enough to get him to grunt and roll off you. You laughed as you jumped back onto the bed, scooching away and curling under one of the other many blankets there, “Gotcha!” You called out in triumph at escaping him.

“Did you just knee me?” Rafayel said, his head popping up at the edge of the bed as he looked at you, “Aren’t you supposed to be protecting me?”

“See I consider that a 9-5 kinda gig, and at the moment it is very much almost midnight. Which reminds me, we should be sleeping.” You said as you pat the bed next to you, coaxing Rafayel to join you properly. The artist let out a huff as he crawled onto the bed, getting under the covers and in position for the night.

“You’re cruel.” He huffed, his back now turned to you as he pouted. You chuckled, looking at Rafayel in his panda outfit, sulking over you attacking him. How a fully grown man could be as cute as him was one of the many wonders of the world.

At seeing him sulking you couldn’t help but scooch up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and nuzzling the back of his neck, “Raaaaf.” You said to him in a sweet voice, “Come on, let’s cuddle.” 

“I refuse to cuddle with someone who thinks kicking me is the proper response to escaping a cuddle session. Far too dangerous.” He said and you placed a small kiss on the back of his neck.

“Come on, my cute fishie, you can’t stay mad at me all night.” You continued coaxing him in that saccharine voice, wondering how long it would take him to finally give in tonight. You could see his shoulders relaxing a bit in your grasp.

It took a few minutes before he began shifting. You backed up enough for him to roll over so he was facing you. He still had a pout, but now his cheeks and ears were red, “Roll over. You’re the little spoon tonight. I don’t want those knees anywhere near me.” He said and you rolled your eyes playfully.

Still, you did as requested and rolled over onto your side. His arms now wrapped around you as he nuzzled his face into your hair. After a moment he spoke, “Did you steal my shampoo?” He murmured sleepily.

“Judging by how your bathroom only has your products at the moment, yes.” You replied, relaxing into the mattress and his grip.

You heard  him huff in amusement before his lips were pressed on the back of your neck, “I guess I don’t mind you smelling like me.” He concluded as he then placed another kiss. You couldn’t help but playfully elbow him and his hands tensed for a moment. You yelped, feeling him nip at your neck, it still being one of the few areas exposed in your large panda outfit.

“Behave.” He warned, his fingers twitching and you gasped for a moment, feeling them on you. You looked back at him, not getting a good glimpse of his face with your current angle.

“Or what?”

They were fighting words, everyone knew it. That alongside ‘Make me’ would always result in something happening. So when Rafayel’s hands began wandering your sides, tickling you, you knew you were in deep shit.

Your laughter began enveloping the room, your cheeks flushed as you tried gasping for breath between his onslaught. He knew every single part of your body that would cause you to giggle and he abused the hell out of them. Your chest hurt as you tried slapping his hands away, “E-e-enoooough hah!” You cried out, trying to get air into your lungs.

After Rafayel noticed that you were literally wheezing and gasping for air, he let you go. You greedily sucked in air as you turned to him, this time you were the one pouting as you looked at him, “E-evil…” You murmured.

Rafayel just flashes you a grin before stretching and letting out a yawn, “It’s payback, my pearl.” He shrugged it off, “Now are we actually going to cuddle and go to bed for real this time?”

“I was ready to go to bed like an hour ago, Raf.” You said, laying back down on your back as you looked at him with a soft smile. Rafayel leaned in, placing a quick kiss on your lips before going to undo his overalls. You gave him a confused look, placing your hand on him and stopping him, “What are you doing?”

“Taking these off?” Rafayel said, curious as to what you were getting upset about, “I don’t mean to alarm you but it’s kind of humid tonight.”

“You dare take off the panda outfit?” You asked, almost scandalized by the sheer thought. Sure it was very humid and you could feel the sweat forming underneath your own pajamas, but you two were just too cute to simply take them off right now.

Rafayel gave you a deadpan stare before speaking, “Do you want me to die from overheating tonight?”

“You’re being dramatic, Raffie. You’re not gonna die.” You huffed, rolling back over to your side to get ready to finally get some sleep.

“I’m not being dramatic.” He said, already getting back into his previous position as well with spooning you. With his added body heat the room was getting a bit warmer than you would’ve liked. Perhaps these were better catered towards the winter months, but your stubbornness wasn't going to let you give up. “The panda outfit stays on in bed.” You finalize with him.

This got a small huff out of Rafayel, and you could feel him now cuddled up against your back. He smirked against you and you were about to ask what was up when he spoke, “So that’s the new rule?” 

“It’s a hard rule.” You murmured, closing your eyes as you decided you’d just attempt to sleep rather than entertain Rafayel. That was until you felt his hands wandering your hips and dragging your bottom half closer to his pelvis.

“You wanna know what else is hard, my pearl?” He cooed into your ear, rolling his hips and you could faintly feel his cock against your ass. You let out a small, surprised gasp at his clear challenge and you opened your eyes.

“Seriously, Raf?” You muttered this time, pressing your ass back against him without thinking; it was just a natural reaction for you at this point in your relationship.

“Too bad you won’t get to feel it. After all, we need to keep these things on in the bed.” Rafayel rolled his hips against you once more and you bit down on your lip as you tried ignoring the feeling. “What a shame.” His voice came out huskier as he whispered in your ear, nipping you in the process.

The several layers between the two of you was certainly something that you realized would be an annoyance. You hated that your body was already reacting to him, getting slick between the thighs as he continued rolling himself against your ass, grinding his clothed cock against you. Memories of what it felt like inside of you began plaguing your mind.

“Raf…” You warned and he chuckled again, his breath tickling the nape of your neck.

“I’m simply abiding by your rules.” He reminded you. He trailed his hand down to the front of your pajamas, cupping your cunt and you let out a small moan as he pressed the fabric against you, your underwear soaking in your juices as you realized just how wet he was getting you from the teasing.

He continued this motion, pressing and rubbing you through your clothes as he rubbed himself against your ass. It wasn’t nearly enough and he knew this all too well as he continued, entertained to see how you’d react to this. You bit your lip as you tried not to let out a whimper; you felt his lips pressing wet kisses along the exposed skin there. You finally opened your eyes and tried to look at him.

“Turn around.” He murmured as he noticed you trying to roll over. You did as he said and as soon as you were facing him, he grabbed you by your hips and rolled you so you were now straddling his lap. He laid prettily under you, looking up with flushed cheeks and a knowing smirk.

“Are you certain we need to keep these on?” He teased as he rolled his hips up into you. You gasped and placed your hands on his chest, cursing the fact that you couldn’t feel his skin at that moment. You were pouting as you looked at him, flustered and horny.

“You’re unfair.” You finally said, grinding down on him to get some much needed friction. You could barely feel him and it frustrated you to no end. The pajamas you thought were cute were now an eyesore when you knew what laid beneath them.

Rafayel’s teasing laugh turned into a groan as he began rolling up to meet your grinding, keeping a nice cadence before panting out your name. You closed your eyes, imagining what it would feel like to be riding him at this moment, how good his cock would make you feel as you came several times on his lap.

“You look ridiculous right now.” You decided to say, looking down at him. You could see Rafayel’s face turn into a pout immediately as he looked up at you.

“And I’m currently trying my best to stay hard, but it’s a bit difficult when there’s a panda on top of you.” He huffed, his hands going to your hips and gripping them. If not for the fabric, you were certain it would leave bruises for tomorrow.

You rolled your eyes, “You’re the worst.” You muttered and took your hand, gliding it up. Thankfully the overalls were broken when you purchased them, so he only had one strap on. You went to unclasp it so you could take it off, but you got interrupted when his hand grabbed your own.

“Changing the rules?” He asked, raising his eyebrow, “Don’t you think that’s a bit naughty to do so for your own selfish reasons?”

“It’s not selfish if someone else gets off as well.” You muttered and he smirked, “Besides I’m only doing this since you’re a cheater.” Now he laughed as he took his hand away from you.

“Well then go ahead and strip this cheater bare, my little panda pearl.” He said and you groaned in annoyance at the stupid nickname. Still, you undid the clasp and let it fall. He helped assist you in stripping it off his body, lifting his hips up and soon you were tossing them off the bed. Your hands went down his chest, tugging at the hoodie next.

Rafayel sat up, grabbing the end of the hoodie and ripping it off in one motion, tossing it to join the other fabric on the ground. Then his hands went to you, unclasping your own overalls and motioning for you to lift your hips and knees when needed until he could take it off. You were left in the hoodie and underwear, while Rafayel only had his underwear on. You looked down briefly to notice the wet patch on his underwear right where his cock head was.

“Oh, you were having trouble staying hard you say?” You teased, your hand going down to press on his erection, loving how he rolled his hips against your hand without thinking about it. The sudden contact was doing things to you both as he looked you up and down. Your hands were all over his chest, enjoying the plains and valleys that were his muscles, your fingers gently grazing over his nipples and he let out a small gasp.

“If I focused on your face it wasn’t bad.” Rafayel said, his hands going to rest on your exposed thighs as he gave them a firm squeeze, “Now, my conch, will you do me the honors of riding me?” He asked, basically fluttering his eyelashes at you.

“Ya, hang on, Raf.” You say, going to take off your own hoodie when he stops your hands. The thing was oversized on you and was actually able to cover your modesty, but for some reason Rafayel could only lick his lips when he looked your body over.

“Keep it on, it’s kinda cute on you.” He said and you huffed. You sat back down on his lap, the only thing separating you were two small pieces of fabric now. You could feel his cock twitching underneath you as you rolled your hips. The dry humping now was way more pleasurable as you continued this for a minute, almost getting lost in the sensation. You could probably cum like this if you really tried.

Rafayel let out a hiss though, the stimulation being good but not enough; it wasn’t what he was planning. Still his hips thrusted up against your clothed mound, wanting to feel your heat closer to him.

You decided to let out a loud, playful moan as you looked down at him, pressing his chest down so he was laying back down on the bed, “You feel pretty good as is, Raffie. Perhaps I’ll use you like this until I cum.” You said with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“You know, I bet I’d feel even better if I were inside you, what do you think?” Despite the teasing tone that Rafayel had, his cheeks and chest were flushed with a scarlet blushed as he looked up at you, almost pleading. You smirked as your hands went to the waistband of his underwear, tugging it until you could take it off his hips.

Your hand wraps around his cock, thumb swiping over the wet tip as you slide his pre cum over his shaft. He’s hot and heavy in your hands and you admire him like he were a piece of art, his cock twitching as you admired him. “Raf, your cock is so pretty.” You murmured, licking your lips as the thought of it being slid down your throat.

Rafayel’s blush got deeper as he looked away from you with a huff, “Might as well take a picture, it’ll last you longer.” 

You paused for a moment, cock still in hand as you looked between it and the owner, “Wait…can I?” damn with how pretty he is, you’d be down to put it as your lock screen. God forbid anyone try to open your phone.

Rafayel now took a few seconds before responding with a simple “No.”

Your small huff of annoyance was enough to get him to look back at you. You were sliding your underwear off your hips and tossing them off to the side. Your legs straddling him as you took his cock back into your hand, lining him up with your dripping cunt.

You slowly began sinking down on his length, groaning as you felt his cock stretching you out perfectly. He wasn’t too thick, but he had a good amount of length to him that always reached into your deepest parts. Rafayel’s hands went to your thighs, gripping them as he watched his cock disappear inside of you.

Once you were fully seated, you rocked your hips gently against Rafayel as you got used to accommodating his length. Rafayel let out a breathy moan, staring up at you with his mouth hanging open slightly. His voice music to your ears as you rolled your hips again, loving how you could feel him twitching inside you.

At your teasing, Rafayel thrusted up in you, making you cry out at the suddenness of it all. Your hands finding purchase over his abs as you shot him a small glare, “Hey, no fair.” You said and Rafayel scoffed.

His grip on your thighs was tight as he managed to lift you up a bit before slamming you back down. Your small, surprised moan echoed in the room as you realized he had no intention of letting you have your way. He began a simple pace, fucking up into you and controlling your movements.

You were already turning into a broken, moaning mess as you looked down at him, trying to form a sentence, “N-no faaaaair.” You groaned out, “I thought I-I was in charge-fuck.” You cursed as he angled his hips just right. You closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation as he used you like a little toy, bouncing eagerly on him.

“If you want to be on top, you need to make sure you’re doing it right.” He scolded, his thrusting getting harsher until he stopped suddenly, settling you on his lap. You took a moment to catch his breath, the tight coil that was forming now ebbing away as you looked down at him.

“Why’d you stop?” You said after a moment and he smirked.

“You’re on top tonight…weren’t you just complaining about that?” He said, tilting his head as he sat up and rested his back on the pillows; his cock shifting in you with the small movement. You groaned, leaning forward on his lap until you were chest to chest, your face a few inches apart from one another.

“You’re the worst.” You said, leaving a teasing nip at his jaw as you began riding him; you lifted your hips and tried finding the pace and angle he had been fucking you at before. You let out a frustrated groan, not being able to get it just right like he had managed. Your arms wrapped around Rafayel’s shoulders, one hand playing in his hair as you tugged him forward.

Your small annoyed whimpers seemed deafening in the room, adding to the chorus of the wet skin-on-skin slapping. Rafayel seemed to get what you wanted, moving forward just enough to capture your lips in a searing kiss. His kisses were always full of heat, nibbling on your lower lip so he could ease his tongue into you.

He groaned at your taste, his tongue entangled with your own as he easily took control of the passionate liplock. He noticed as you closed your eyes, savoring the kiss that you had stopped riding him, opting to just roll your hips against him as you tried to at least keep up some friction.

You swallowed Rafayel’s groan and soon his hands were on the bottom of your thighs, closest to your ass. He easily lifted you up until his cock was barely inside you, before slamming you down. You gasped into the kiss, his lips never leaving yours as he began guiding your movements again.

“S-so good.” You cried out against his mouth, looking down to see his cock going in and out of you. The warm coiling sensation began again and you knew you wouldn’t last very long at this pace. Not with how good he was making you feel with every thrust up into your cunt.

He adjusted you in his lap until his cock managed to hit that spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. “Raf, fuck, right there.” You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as you pressed your forehead against his own. Your eyes were squeezed shut, the sensations being too much yet not enough all at the same time.

Rafayel hisses at feeling your nails and he lets out a small chuckle, “Take it easy, love.” He said, feeling close to his own high. His cock was being squeezed so deliciously by your warmth that it was hard for him to think clearly.

“S-sorry.” You said, although the apology was half hearted. You began peppering kisses along his jaw and neck, a silent way of repenting for scratching the hell out of him. He chuckled as he used his shoulder to shrug your head off him so he could see you.

“My pearl, think you could play with your clit while I fuck you?” He asked, his lips brushing against yours. You let out another whimper, nodding your head. You took one of your hands and placed it between your legs. It was pressed between your two bodies but you had enough room for your fingers to graze against your swollen clit.

“Doing so good, sweetheart, just a little more.” Rafayel praised, feeling how your walls were quivering with your impending release. He began thrusting harder, faster, wanting to bring you toppling over the edge at the same time as him.

“C-close R-raaah-f.” You moaned, pinching your clit between your fingers then rubbing it in circles. The feeling of his cock stretching you at the new pace was driving you insane. You were about to cum, the pleasure overwhelming. 

“Close too, baby.” Rafayel groaned, his cock twitching and leaking profusely inside you, “Can I cum inside?” Despite how close he was he still had to check.

“Gods, please.” You said and then gasped. The coil in you snapped at that moment, your walls clenching over his length as you rode out your orgasm. Everything inside of you felt like it was a gentle fire, your limbs tingling and your head fuzzy. You didn't realize you had thrown your head back, your mouth open as you let out whimpers of pleasure.

Feeling you squeezing his cock like a vice, Rafayel groaned. His warm seed began spilling inside of you, your name spilling from his lips like a prayer. All too soon you felt your high slowly going away as you slumped against Rafayel. You nuzzled into his neck, clutching onto him as you ground yourself once more.

You didn’t realize how out of breath you were until you noticed how you were panting. Rafayel was rubbing soothing circles on your back. His warm hands under your hoodie as he helped you come back to him.

You two stayed like this for a while, enjoying the comfortable silence. That was until you realized just how uncomfortable the aftermath felt.

Not only was it humid, but you two had worked up a sweat. Alongside the mess dripping from between your legs onto Rafayel’s lap…you guys needed to clean up.

“Raf…” You mumbled and the man below you just hummed. His hands paused for a moment as he adjusted himself so he could look at you, “We need to clean up. I feel sticky.”

Rafayel laughed at your observation as he kissed the side of your neck, “Ya, ya, we can take a bath in a few minutes. Lemme relax a bit more. That was a workout, you know.” He muttered. You playfully smacked his chest as you adjusted in his grip. His softening cock still in you made you wince from the sensitivity. 

“If that took it out of you, we might need to hit the gym together.” You said, watching as Rafayel’s hands were now roaming your body. He began tugging at the hoodie, clearly wanting to take it off.

“We don’t need to take drastic measures.” He said as he helped lift you off his cock. Your combined fluids now flowed out onto him. You tried closing your thighs, letting out an embarrassed yelp

“No need to be shy.” Rafayel urged as he sat you down on his stomach. He leaned back again and stared up at you, “It’s just the aftermath of our love.” He teased.

You huffed before realizing something. A small laugh escaped you as you looked down, “You know…” You went to tug at the hoodie you wore, “Technically one of us did keep the panda outfit on in bed.”

“Really?” He groaned, “That’s what you have to say after all that?” 

You shrugged in response and Rafayel clicked his tongue, “You’re something else.”

“Be that as it may, you still love me.” You said with a soft smile, your hand resting on his cheek, gently caressing it. 

Rafayel huffed “Ya, I guess I do.”

Aha gg hope y'all enjoyed this one! Probably my favorite one to write out of all three boys tbh.

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Fight Club [Frank's Version]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x (AFAB)Reader x Frank Castle

Summary: If this seems familiar, that's cause it is. When @hellskitchenswhore sent this prompt I gave two options: Either Matt fucks you before your next session so he's dripping out of you while you're training with Frank so you "remember who you belong to" ORRRRRR he busts up your session and you end up having a three way with him and Frank in the gym. She chose the former but the later has honestly been bouncing around my brain since then and I finally wrote it. The fic is the same until Matt follows reader to the gym, then the fun begins...

Warnings: 18+/SMUT. No use of Y/N. Female/AFAB reader (use of terms like girlfriend and female anatomy.) Established relationship. Brief mention of an active shooter at an office, Frank and Matt using pet names like sweetheart, mentions and accusations of cheating but no actual cheating, Unprotected sex, Fingering and hand job, Oral (M & F receiving,) THREE WAY! A TRIP TO PARIS!, P in V, Creampie, etc.

WC: 7,200

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

“That’s it sweetheart, last round I promise.” Frank encourages you as you take swings at the bag in front of you. 

You’ve been at this for at least an hour and your arms feel like jello. You can’t remember the last time you were breathing this hard that wasn’t from Matt bending you in half. Jumping directly into the Hudson would have kept you drier than the amount of sweat currently pouring down your face and exhausted body.

“Atta girl, atta girl!” Frank praises as you take your last few swings, arms too weak to make any real movement of the bag

“Alright, you’re getting the hang of it now. Few more sessions and you’ll be out there with Red every night.”

“Pfft I don’t know about that, Frank. I’m just trying to make sure I can protect myself is all.”

“So remind me again why you didn’t ask him to teach you this?”

It started last week. One of your favorite coworkers was going through a bitter divorce and her estranged husband decided to confront her at the office and pulled a gun. You heard two shots ring out from your desk and feared the worst - all the active shooter situations you'd seen on TV were happening live in your life. Fortunately, as you fled for safety, Jerry from accounting was able to disarm and tackle the guy before he could hurt anyone thanks to his black belt in Jiujitsu.

Even though the incident ended okay, it had spooked you enough to get yourself some defense classes, for all those times when your vigilante boyfriend was too far uptown to protect you at a moment’s notice and Jerry wasn’t around to save the day.

Matt was always overprotective of you and you hated to think how he’d react to the incident, so you hadn’t told him. When the story hit the news, you lied (via text so he couldn’t detect it) and said it happened on a different floor and you didn’t even notice. 

You also didn’t tell him about your decision to learn self-defense. Matt was more than qualified to teach you, but for some reason, you just didn’t feel comfortable asking for his help with this. Maybe it was his propensity to throw himself into helping those he cared about, you especially, that gave you hesitation to give him another thing to prioritize over himself. Maybe it was just how good he was at fighting that made you not want to “be a beginner” in front of him (not that Matt would ever judge you about anything.)

In fairness to you, you hadn’t intended to learn it from his frenemy and former client, but you’d showed up at the boxing gym near your work and the gruff men inside intimidated you so much, you bolted out the door before signing up for a class, tears welling in your eyes when you quite literally bumped into Frank on the street.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, nodding towards the door of the boxing gym

“I thought… Look I want to learn how to fight. Or at least how to defend myself. This place is close to work but um… might not be the right fit for me.”

“Why don’t you just ask Red?”

“It’s a long story,” you replied with a sigh “but I really don’t want to ask him. Or for him to even know about it. So can you please not mention you saw me here or we had this conversation?”

“Okay, can I ask why not?”

“You can but I’m not gonna answer.” 

Frank chuckled and shook his head

“Well if you want to learn to fight, this isn’t the best place. I know Vinny the owner and he’s a shit teacher. But if you want to learn for real, I’m happy to teach you.”

“What? Wait really? Wait, Frank you know how to fight?”

“Sweetheart, I was a Marine for over 15 years, ‘course I know how to fight.”

“And you’d do that for me?”

“Course. You’re Red's girl. What times’ he leave for his little night job?”

“9:00”

“Great, meet me here at 9:30. Tonight.”

And that was how you ended up here, collapsing on the gym mat beneath you with a groan.

“Not bad for your first time. We just gotta get you in the habit of resetting your hands after every hit, and you’ll be golden” Frank praises again

“Oh yeah, I forgot, always protect the face so I don’t end up lookin like you.” you jest

“Ouch” he feigns hurt with a smirk on his face “Red teach you to swing low like that?”

“Nah Castle, that’s all me. It’s part of why he loves me. Same time tomorrow?”

“Sure. See you then.”

By the time Matt returns home, you’re showered and in bed, sore muscles pulsing every time you twist and turn in your sleep. Between the smell of sweaty clothes in the hamper and the scent of your freshly washed skin rubbing against silk sheets, plus the heat radiating off your sore muscles as he crawls into bed silently beside you, Matt figures it out pretty quickly.

‘She started going back to the gym. Hmm. Have to ask her about that in the morning.’ he thinks as he drifts off beside you.

You awake in the morning to gentle hands rubbing at your back. 

“Mmm morning Matty” you mumble, still pulling yourself out of sleep

“Morning sweetheart.”

“What are you doing?” you ask as he works a little lower down your spine

“Giving you a massage. I can tell you’re sore. When did you start going back to the gym?”

“Just yesterday. And you’re right I’m super sore. Thank you, this is a nice way to start my day.”

“Of course sweetheart. What gym did you go to? Did you have fun?” he inquires

His innocent prodding has you waking fully quickly, trying to cover your tracks without outright lying and getting caught.

“Oh this gym near work. Couple people in the office recommended it. And yeah I had fun.” 

All truths.

“That’s nice. Mmmm do you want to start the coffee or shower first?” he asks, seemingly letting the subject go

Perfect.

As you rush around to get ready for work, Matt grabs the laundry hamper from the bathroom, walking it over to the washing machine. Your dirty workout clothes from the night before sit on top, now less potent that they have completely dried. But he can’t help but feel like something smells off.

Sure it smells like you - natural scent mixed with your fading sweat, but there’s something else. Something familiar. A very subtle hint of spiciness mixed with… is that gunpowder? 

‘Weird’ Matt thinks to himself, but brushes it off a moment later, the smell not strong enough to really garner more than a passing thought.

But three times he does the laundry in a row, he smells it. It’s so subtle, he might not even give it another thought, but it’s just so damn familiar. 

It takes another week for him to ask you about it.

“Hey sweetheart, you’ve been going to the gym a lot lately,” he mentions over dinner 

“Mmmhmm. Yeah, can you feel my muscles growing? I’m feeling stronger.” you reply

“Yeah. What exactly are you doing at the gym? It’s really working.”

“Oh a little cardio, a little strength, you know…” you skirt around, being intentionally vague

“That’s good. Is it like a class or?”

“Um sort of. Just this guy at the gym, he’s been helping me. You know, walking me through the exercises.” 

Also technically the truth.

“That’s good. Well, I’m glad you found something you like.”

‘Okay, so that guy must smell like this. She’s close enough to him in a warm sweaty gym, so there’s a little bit on her clothes. Makes sense.’ Matt thinks to himself. But he still can’t shake the feeling that that smell is so familiar.

Two weeks later, Matt is out on patrol when he hears a familiar heartbeat on the fire escape a few floors down from where he’s perched.

Frank.

“You just gonna sit there all night, listinin’ Red?” Frank asks

“Very funny Frank.” Matt says, hopping down to Frank’s level

“Haven’t seen you in a while” Matt comments

“Been busy. Madani’s been usin’ me more.”

“Oh don’t tell me you’re going legit Frank.”

“Not a shot in hell, Red. But gotta pay the bills somehow.”

And then a strong breeze blows. Frank’s signature blend of sweat, aftershave, and metallic mixed with gunpowder from all the weapons he handles overwhelms Matt’s nose. Matt cocks his head in confusion. It’s so damn familiar. But of course it is, it’s Frank. How many times has Matt been on a rooftop with him like this, bs-ing the night away while monitoring the city?

After catching up for a bit, they go their separate ways, the rest of Matt’s evening turning uneventful.

He returns home to you shortly after 3 am, your soft breathing as you sleep calms him as he strips off his suit. 

You hadn’t met with Frank tonight. He said something about following a lead and you were perfectly fine with that, you needed an off day. 

Matt curls up in bed beside you, resting his head on your back and falling asleep quickly.

The next night, Frank is really putting you through your paces and you swear you’re ready to collapse when he finally calls it for the night. 

Per usual, Frank offers to walk you home when you’re done and for the first time since you started coming here, you accept the offer since you stayed a bit later than usual tonight. At least until you can make it to Hell’s Kitchen and within range of Matt. 

You and Frank make small talk as you go and eventually, the chill of the autumn air has you shivering in your still-damp-from-sweat workout clothes. 

“Here sweetheart,” Frank says with a lopsided smirk, slinging his worn jacket over your shoulders. 

“Thank you Castle. Always a gentleman.”

“Course, ‘specially for Red’s girl.”

You make it to 35th and 10th, close enough to home and hand his jacket back to him, parting ways with a nod and a polite “goodnight.”

The later hour coupled with the particularly intense session has you collapsing into bed without even removing your shoes, let alone your gym clothes.

When Matt returns a few hours later, the smell hits him like a truck. 

‘I swear to god Frank, if you’re bleeding on my couch again…’ Matt thinks to himself. 

But when he enters the apartment the only heartbeat he can hear is yours. He inches slowly toward the bedroom and rolls the door open gently. He reaches down to feel the soft lycra of your leggings on your body, careful not to stir you from your slumber. The smell of your sweat clinging to your clothes fills his senses, way more potent than normal plus that other scent you’re bringing home from the gym. Matt pauses to wonder why he thought Frank was here but then it hits him. 

Oh my god. The mystery smell from the gym you’ve been bringing home is Frank. 

But how could you smell like… 

And then the gears in his head start turning. And he feels like a goddamn idiot. 

You had been going to the gym. But not to work out. You were cheating. With Frank of all people. And you’d made the critical error of not showering when you got home. 

Matt begins to pace the apartment, rubbing at his chin as his thoughts move a million miles a minute about what to do. 

Did he confront you? Did he confront Frank?! What should he even say?

The sun rises and he’s still pacing and contemplating when his alarm rings out. He shuts it off before it can wake you too. He needs more time to think about his next move. He gets ready for work quietly and slips out the door before you awake. 

You find it odd you haven’t heard from Matt all day. When you woke up you saw his Devil suit in a heap in the living room and there was no damage to it or blood on it. So you knew he had come home and was relatively okay. But it was so odd for him to leave without a goodbye kiss or go this long in the day without so much as a text. But he had been busy with a heavy caseload lately. You finally break shortly after lunch and text him first. 

“Hey Matty. Know you’re busy but I miss you and I love you. Dinner tonight?”

“Can’t. Working late. Don’t wait up.” He responds

That was… oddly curt. But again you figure he’s stressed and busy. 

Matt on the other hand has been wracked with stress all day. It only took an hour of his constant pacing and fidgeting for Foggy to break and finally ask.

“Matt. What’s up?”

“I think… I think I’m being cheated on.” Matt confesses. He leaves the Frank part out of the equation, wanting Foggy to be as objective as possible about his response. 

“What could possibly make you think that?”

“She’s been going to the gym like every night for a month now right when I leave for patrol and she came home last night smelling like… another man. And she’s been smelling like it a little the whole month but last night it was all over her”

“So did you ask her?”

“Well no but…” 

“Matt you are literally a human lie detector and yet here you are jumping to conclusions instead of doing the rational thing and just asking her.”

And maybe Matt would have taken Foggy’s advice if he thought you were just cheating with your gym trainer. But this was Frank. And that made it all the more complicated. 

Matt decides finally what he’s going to do. He’s going to follow you tonight, catch you in the act and confront both of you together.  

Matt still hasn’t come home when you depart for your nightly workout session, but little do you know he’s there. Pacing on the roof, waiting for you to leave. As soon as he hears the lobby door shut behind you, he springs in to action, taking the stairs two at a time into the apartment and changing out of his lawyer suit and into his devil suit as quickly as possible, making sure not to lose your heartbeat now a block and a half away. He makes up for the lost distance quickly and is practically on top of you by the time you enter the gym. 

“Hey Frank!” you call out as you enter

“Hey. I’ll be over in a second.” he replies from the locker rooms

Matt crouches down by the side of the building, just close enough to the windows to hear everything going on inside. 

You’re almost done wrapping your hands when Frank emerges from the locker room. 

“Alright let’s start with our usual, then you can have a go at me again.”

“I don’t know Frank. You really wore me out last night. I woke up still in my clothes and shoes.”

Matt knew it. He fucking knew it. 

“Tough shit sweetheart,” Frank responds with a chuckle. “And what did your boyfriend think about that huh? He got any idea what we’re doing here yet?”

“Honestly I don’t know. I didn’t see or hear from him at all today. Which is weird even for him. And no I don’t think he’s figured it out yet.”

“You’re gonna have to tell him eventually”

“No, I don’t”

“So what you’re just gonna keep sneakin’ around, becoming a prize fighter without him gettin’ suspicious? Shit even a regular guy would raise some alarm bells by now, but especially Red and all his … shit”

“Frank, I am not here trying to become a prize fighter. I’m just trying to get strong enough to defend myself if he’s not around to do it. That’s all”

Matt’s heart drops. 

How could he possibly think you were cheating? And with Frank of all people. He felt like an idiot. Like a total asshole. Sure you had lied, well, technically withheld the truth and he’s sure you’ll explain why. And he’s hurt if you wanted to learn to fight that you didn’t come to him.  But this was not nearly as egregious a stain on your relationship as he thought it was. 

“I don’t know. Think you should tell him. Show him your moves. Shit, you’ve gotten a couple good hits on me these last few days. I'm sure you could give Red a run for his money.” 

“I am not fighting Matt, Francis.” You say with an eye roll

In that moment, Matt decided this had gone far enough. He needed to come clean. He slipped quietly through the door into the studio. 

“Oh I think she absolutely could, Frank. Especially if you’ve been teaching her”

Your spine goes icy cold at the sound of the voice behind you. Both you and Frank jump with a gasp and whip your heads to look at the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, standing in front of you. 

“Matt… I” 

“It’s okay sweetheart,” Matt says, hands up in surrender before reaching up to remove his mask

“Shit Red, you been here this whole time?” Frank asks nonchalantly 

Matt nods, shame painted on his face.

“Matt, I can explain…”

“No. I need to explain.” Matt holds a hand up, interrupting your thought  “I followed you here because I thought you were cheating. With Frank. And I know now that’s not what’s happening. And I’m sorry for not just asking you.” 

Frank scoffs and holds back a low chuckle while your face softens in empathy.

“Oh Matt. I’m so sorry that I did anything to make you think that. That’s not at all what’s happening here.”

“Really Red, you think I’m that kind of guy?”

“No... I don’t know.”

“Nah, wouldn’t lay a finger on your girl. Unless it was okay with you.”

Matt shakes his head.

“Now that I’m here though, I wouldn’t say no to a little demonstration of what you’ve been teaching her.”

Frank immediately looks to you, reading the signs on your face to make sure it’s okay. You nod. Now that Matt knows, its time to show him.

“Kay sweetheart, just a few rounds on the bag. Like we been practicing.” Frank reassures

You step up to the bag and look to Frank once more. A soft smile spreads across his face and he nods in encouragement. 

You take a few swings. Jab, Cross, Left hook. Like Frank normally has you do. Not even thirty seconds in, Matt speaks up.

“Woah woah woah. Frank, you’ve been letting her hit like this and not correcting her form?”

“Yes. Wait, what the hell is wrong with her form?”

“She’s too far away from the bag.” Matt places his hands on your shoulders, maneuvering you with slight adjustments and positions his feet right beside yours, pressing his body tight against your back. “I can hear your shoulder joint rubbing every time you jab, which means you’re over-extending that left arm. Makes you put way too much energy into each hit, you’re gonna wear yourself out way faster. Here. Step closer.”

You take a few more swings. Matt’s breath is against your ear and you can’t help but feel a chill run down your spine straight to your core. God, his body is warm usually, but being flush behind you as you move and hit, he practically feels like white-hot iron against you. Your heart is thumping out of your chest, and it’s not just from the few swings you’ve taken. You know Matt can hear it and is going to play you like a fiddle. His own wicked form of punishment for not telling him about your training.

“Go ahead, gimme a few more, I want to feel how your body moves. See just what else Frank has been teaching you wrong.”

Frank throws his arms up in offense as you try a few more punches.

“See? More power, less effort.”

You grin, happy to finally be sharing something Matt is clearly so knowledgeable and passionate about with him. Craning your neck, you mesh your lips with his in excitement and only pull away when Frank loudly clears his throat and you remember that he is still there watching the two of you.

“Eh, so you gave her a minor tweak. Still say how I had her doing it was perfectly fine.”

Matt finally steps away from you, turning to face Frank.

“Sure Castle, but I think the real testament to your teaching skills is how she does with an actual partner.”

Matt turns his attention back to you. His hands drop from your shoulders, running down your back lightly and coming to rest on your hips. He plants a soft kiss right under your ear. His stubble is coarse against your skin, sending goosebumps across your flesh, your toes curling into the squishy mat beneath you.

“You throw any actual punches at him yet?” he asks

“A few. Landed some of them too.”

“Let her show you Murdock, maybe she can knock that cocky attitude out of you like I never could.”

Matt chuckles and shakes his head. He steps away from you, holding out a hand and leading you to the center of the room, the area in the gym dedicated to partner sparring.

You stand a few feet apart from your boyfriend, nervous to demonstrate on him. You’re not arrogant enough to think just a few weeks of training with Frank puts you anywhere near Matt’s skill level. But you also know that Matt loves you and will probably take it easy on you just to be supportive and also not hurt you, so you may just be able to get a few swings in. You don’t need the guilt of piling onto his already long list of previous injuries and scars.

Frank approaches behind you, placing a hand on your arm in reassurance as he leans close to your ear.

“Remember that knee to crotch move I showed you last week? The one I said to only use if some creep comes at you head on and you need to take him out quick?” 

You nod, already shifting your feet towards the set up position for that move, trying to activate the muscle memory to bring it back into your brain.

“Well” Frank continued, “might not be a bad time to try it.”

You chuckle at his suggestion.

“Frank, you know Matt can hear all of this right?” 

You glance over at your boyfriend, amused smirk painted across his lips as he stretches his perfectly toned bicep across his chest, warming up for your little face off. He’s discarded his tight black shirt in a pile beside him. A cheap bid to distract you from the task at hand with his incredible body that he knows you can’t resist.

“Yeah, just figure if he wants to be a jealous fucker why not rile him up some more? Plus it’s the least he deserves for thinking the worst from you and I, of all people.”

You try not to laugh at the statement. Frank’s askew moral compass being perfectly fine with the regular amount of murder he commits, but thinking being a taken woman’s side piece crosses a line.

He squeezes the hand still resting on your bicep in reassurance before stepping away with a wink, sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin, radiating from the point where the warmth of his touch still lingers. Frank always keeps it incredibly professional around you and you know he is pushing against the line of flirting just to get into Matt’s head.

“Ready sweetheart?” Matt asks as you step towards him, gloved fists by your face prepared to fight

“Yeah” you reply and Matt also assumes his stance, nodding in your direction as a go ahead

“Ding ding, round one!” Frank remarks

You go for the right hook first, but Matt easily blocks the hit. You throw a few more punches, all of which Matt dodges and blocks without looking like he’s putting any effort into it. He’s cocky and sly in the way that he moves, refusing to even take one swing at you but making you work stupidly hard just to get nowhere.

Fine. New strategy, you decide.

Swinging a roundhouse knee in the air, you connect directly with his ribs. The oof sounds he lets out gives you a rush of adrenaline knowing you legitimately got a hit on him. It’s incredibly short lived as he’s quick to recover. Rushing towards you, he tackles you to the mat, knocking the wind out of your lungs as your ribs connect with the floor. He’s pinned you to the point where you can barely squirm, knee pressed firmly between your legs while his arms cage you in place.

“Nice try baby, but not good enough.” he whispers in your ear, shifting his leg to provide just a little friction against your core

“Woah, take it easy on her. She’s still a beginner. She’s here to learn, not have you be an asshole to her about something you thought she did.” Frank interjects, pulling Matt off of you

“Just cause you take it easy on her Frank, doesn’t mean I have to. She wants to learn, then let her learn with a real opponent, not just you going easy on her cause she makes your dick too hard to think straight.”

“Woah!” you interject, ripping the boxing gloves off your hands while still flat on your back

“Jesus, Red” Frank exclaims as he offers out a hand to get you back on your feet

“Oh come on Frank, you’ve been hard since she walked in here. Just because you’re not banging my girlfriend doesn’t mean you haven’t thought about it. I can hear it rub against your pants every time you move. You’re a weirdo, but not nearly weird enough to show up to a gym in jeans unless you had a reason.”

“Look, I’d never…” Frank stumbles over his words, redness creeping up his neck as it tenses with every clench of his jaw

Your pulse is thumping loudly in your ears at Matt’s observation, skin flushed with heat in both embarrassment for Frank who is still stammering beside you and also a little flattered that you so effortlessly turn him on so much.

“Never? Even with my permission?” Matt inquires

Frank’s pupils grow wide at Matt’s suggestion

“Woah, hold up Matt. Permission?” you loudly exclaim, offended at Matt’s implication “Like you own me?! I’m my own person, what about my damn permission?!”

Matt scoffs at your statement and steps toward you, spinning you around so your back is once more pressed against him and you are now facing Frank, who is hesitant to look up. His gaze transfixed on the floor as he tries to find the words to refute Matt’s claims. You didn’t think sheepish was a word one could ever use to describe Frank Castle, nor did you think he’d ever back down from a fight with Matt, even a verbal one.

“Okay sweetheart, let’s talk about you then.” Matt speaks lowly, damp bare skin of his rising and falling chest pressing into your back as he speaks, his own hardness obvious as he pulls your body flush against his

“While I appreciate that you haven’t crossed any lines since you started training, that doesn't mean you’re not enjoying these nightly sessions with Frank. Your heartbeat has risen every time he's been within a foot of you or complimented your progress tonight.” 

His voice rumbles against the skin of your neck, right hand snaking around to your front, tickling at the top of your leggings. For some reason, you don’t stop him, feeling a little shy but letting him tease you in front of Frank.

“And you want to talk about how wet you were when I first got here?” he continues “I could practically smell you from blocks away. Frank get you that excited, hmm?”  

Frank's head snaps up at the statement and he locks eyes with you just as Matt pushes his hand all the way down, collecting the slick he was just describing on his fingers.

“Matt, I…” you attempted to protest, still watching as the lust grows in Frank’s stare while Matt runs his fingers through your folds.

There was no hiding how your body reacted to both men. The evidence drips onto Matt’s fingers as he toys with you.

“No, it’s okay sweetheart.” he reassures, placing a few kisses on your neck “I get it. Frank and I have always said we're two sides to the same coin. It makes sense we’d both find the same woman attractive. And that she’d want us both.”

Matt once again turns his attention to Frank, not relenting in his teasing of you as he slips a finger into your opening, causing a moan to escape from your lips.

“Go ahead, Frank” Matt says with a nod against your shoulder, “if it's okay with her, it's okay with me.”

Frank finally wills himself to step forward. Never wavering in how deeply his gaze is locked on you, he hovers his hands over your waist while Matt continues to lazily pump his fingers in and out of you, waiting for your go ahead. You nod, granting him the permission to finally act on the feelings you’ve both been resisting. 

Frank’s trembling hand finally cradles your jaw as he leans into you and softly connects his lips with yours, taking the pace slowly to give you both the space to gauge how you’re feeling.

Matt, on the other hand, is happy to move things along as he pushes another finger inside you. Immediately working his calloused digits against that spongy spot inside you that drives you wild every time. You're not sure what causes you to groan into Frank's mouth, the way Matt touches you so expertly or the tingly sensation spreading through your body as Frank’s tongue and hands begin to explore.

Matt only removes his fingers from your core momentarily to aid Frank in ridding you of your clothes, eager to assist as it now gives him so much more easy access to your sopping cunt.

Warm, wet kisses are placed all over your heated flesh from both men as Frank’s calloused fingers dance all over you, eventually resting just above Matt’s hand to work your clit while Matt picks up his pace.

Your orgasm crashes into you like a strong current against a rocky shore, hands gripping onto Frank’s forearms to hold your self steady as you ride the waves of pleasure to the end. He watches with an almost sort of reverence as you come down, indulging in every beautiful hint of pleasure painted across your face and body.

Your cunt squeezes Matt’s fingers one last time before he removes them, allowing you to fully fall into Frank’s strong form while Matt tastes the nectar of his labor. The groan that escapes his lips is sinful as he indulges in the familiar taste of you. Meanwhile Frank is stepping away from you, shirt joining Matt’s across the gym and jeans following not long after.

You were used to staring at Matt’s scarred and muscular form, but Frank’s sculpted, but slightly beefier body is also decorated with the ghosts of his past. You can’t help but salivate at how well his toned muscles look as he frees his cock and removes the last of his clothing.

He pumps himself a few times while Matt kisses you deeply, guiding you downward.

The squishy gym floor beneath you cushions your knees as you crawl on all fours towards Matt, who is shimmying out of his cargo pants and laying down before you. 

Frank follows closely as you makeout with Matt, continuing to touch himself at the sight of your bare body splayed out on the mat. He lunges forward to place a few kisses down your spine as you’re bending forward, ass in the air and inches away from taking Matt into your mouth.

As you begin to suck Matt’s length, his low moans echo out through the musty gym, lips parted in pleasure.

Once Frank is satisfied with how much you’ve got Matt worked up, he slides back up behind you, lining himself up with your entrance. You moan into Matt’s cock as Frank pushes into you.

Alternating between your mouth and your hand, you work Matt up until his eyes are pressed shut, overwhelmed by all the sensory input of Frank fucking you. Matt seizes the opportunity to sit up a little and kiss you deeply, just as Frank begins to increase the harshness of his thrusts. You can’t help but cry out in little mewls and whimpers, as Matt moves kisses down your neck and jaw and guides your lips over his cock once more. 

Your legs feel as though they may give out from under you at any moment based on how violently they’re trembling.  With Frank only increasing his rhythm and Matt now thrusting up to meet your face and running his nails along your back has you careening closer and closer to your edge once more.

Unable to hold back, you cum with a cry, Matt and Frank both lunging to put their lips all over your skin as you do, sandwiching you in a throng of sweaty flesh and ecstasy. 

Pulled fully on your knees now, Matt reaches down to where Frank was just fucking you, running his fingers through your folds again and sending your already overstimulated nerves into over drive.

The room around you now feels stifling, the heat of three bodies in such a state of activity not able to compete with the squeaky and outdated hvac system buzzing above you head. Frank and Matt are both damp, hair sticking to their flushed foreheads as their mouths hang agape in an attempt to slow their panting. Matt’s hazel eyes dart back and forth, reading the signs that both you and Frank are ready for more; the steadying of your heartbeats, the evening of your breaths, and the minuscule sounds of both your muscles relaxing as the seconds tick on. Even though you’ve leveled out a little bit, you’re still dizzy with pleasure and your heart rate surges right back up as Matt moves to position you on your back.

“Atta girl.” Frank encourages as the sticky flesh of your back meets the soft, rubbery floor. He’s laying down beside you, hands roaming over your breasts and taking a nipple into his mouth just as Matt pushes himself forward, beginning to work his tongue all over your pussy. 

The crescendo of pleasure begins to grow deep within you again, Matt knowing just how to expertly play you like a conductor leading a symphony as he kisses and sucks on your clit. He inserts a finger just as Frank grabs your jaw, shoving his tongue into your mouth. 

Frank’s kisses move down your jaw and towards your ear, whispering sweet praises while Matt continues to eat you.

“Shit sweetheart, look so pretty when you cum. Knew you would. Let me see it again, come on, all over Red’s face. Atta girl.”

While Matt is always phenomenal in bed, never have you heard him talk as filthy as Frank. Usually his moans and grunts turned you on plenty, but Frank’s words are a welcome, new sensation that has another orgasm crashing through you before you even realize its happening.

You practically shove Matt off you as you know he’d be content to just keep going until you were over stimulated to the point of tears. He chuckles and wipes away the slick you left on his mouth and chin.

“Sweetie, you want to help Frank finish while I remind you who you belong to? Hm?” Matt asks as he crawls to hover over you, lining up just the tip of his cock with your slit and causing your cunt to clench around nothing

“Yes, Matt.” you respond, propping yourself up on your elbows so Frank can have his turn fucking your mouth

Frank’s scoff is cut off with a groan of pleasure as you wrap your mouth around him and suck his length towards the back of your throat.

“What Castle?” Matt asks, still teasing your hole while he listens to you blow Frank “You think just because I’m sharing doesn’t mean she’s only mine?”

“Ah shit– I know Red. I know.” Frank replies, chin tilted down to watch the way you look up at him as you swallow him down

“Good.” Matt responds, before harshly thrusting all the way into you. 

The vibrations of your moans from how intensely you’re getting fucked, plus the sight of you taking Matt’s dick while sucking him off causes a build up in Frank much quicker than he’d like. Part of his ego doesn’t want to finish before Matt, so he guides you by the jaw off of him and resumes laying on the floor, supporting your head with his chest and guiding your hand to his hardness so he can watch the show and also help you cum a final time while staving off his own orgasm a little while longer.

“That’s it sweetheart” he coos in your ear, hand steady around your throat while you stare up into his eyes and work him over with your hand. Your skin feels on fire as they toy with you, every brush of them against you like electricity firing through your nerves.

You can tell Matt is close by the way his face is scrunched up, focusing on only the feeling of your body beneath his and trying to tune out the rest of the world around. You can only assume Frank is as well, based on how much tighter his grip has gotten around your neck as you continue to jack him off and by how his sweet praises are now replaced with grunts occasionally punctuated by a singular swear word.

Frank reaches his calloused fingers down to goad you along, rubbing your clit in smooth circles, a stark contrast to the harshness of Matt’s now faltering pace. 

The slapping of skin over and over combined with the lust-filled groans and moans all of you are making has your head spinning and your final orgasm blooms like a rose in late July, soft and warm and delicate in a way that only these two working in tandem can give you.

Frank watches as you fall apart a final time, not stopping his assault on your sensitive bud until he’s satisfied with how hard you've orgasmed.

You’re totally spent and laying back against Frank. Too distracted by how delicious every drag of Matt’s cock feels against your satisfied walls, you let him use you while you revel in the dissipating fizz of your body being so thoroughly fulfilled. Barely able to even reach up and stroke the taught muscle of Matt’s chest, you do though as a small act of gratitude for sharing you tonight and allowing you to experience such pleasure. Frank takes over for your weak and trembling hands, touching himself while kissing whatever area of your skin he can reach to bring you back down. 

Matt’s senses are overwhelmed. The smell of pure sex invades his nostrils and he can still feel the aftershocks of your orgasm in the light pulses of your velvety walls every time he drives into you. Frank’s musky scent blends so beautifully with your natural, floral smell and hearing your satisfied sighs being breathed into Frank's soft kisses is the most beautiful music he’s ever heard. Your hands trace down from his chest and rest on the back of his thighs, encouraging him to find his nirvana as his thrusts become erratic.

“Matty.” you let out in a breathy lament and it finally tips him off the cliff, spilling inside you with a low moan that will echo in your ears for days to come.

Frank, unable to hold himself back any longer and cheekily pleased that he held off longer than Matt, even if it was only for a moment, spills across his stomach and chest as you kiss him through his orgasm while still stroking Matt’s skin to bring him down.

The three of you collapse side by side under the humming fluorescent lights of the gym, labored breathing finally slowing as you all come back to reality.

“Tell you what Red, that was a hell of a warm up for your girl. Ain’t that right sweetheart?” Frank finally speaks up, gravely voice cutting through the silence.

“You’ve got to be kidding Frank, I am not training tonight after all that!” you argue back

Frank turns towards you and presses a kiss to your temple before standing up and finding his clothes. 

“Matt, c’mon back me up here.” you turn to your boyfriend and watch as his signature cheeky grin spreads wide across his face.

“You know my dad and I had this mantra, this thing we’d say before every fight he had ‘It ain't how you hit the mat. It's how you get up.’ 

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“It means, you better get back up and do what Frank tells you.”

[kaelidascope]

Fandom and LGBTQ Hostility and My Experiences Trying to Exist in Both Spaces Online

I came into these spaces with a very strict rule that I would not react or do anything cancel-worthy out of an overabundance of caution. Digital footprints are dangerous. The things you say online will follow you around forever. I know that first hand. I’ve bottled up and stayed silent about a lot of things I’ve either witnessed first-hand or experienced because I was trying to maintain a clean online persona. I’m not an ‘airing out dirty laundry’ type person. 

In light of recent events however, it’s gotten so bad that I can no longer sit here and not say something about how I feel. I’m disappointed and frustrated with the experiences I’ve had both in fandom and LGBTQ+ spaces and I can’t be complacent. I’m tired of getting treated like this, I’m fed up and I’m not going to put up with it anymore. I feel it’s important I voice what I’ve been watching and what’s happened and how I’m not going to tolerate it anymore by calling it out first hand. 

This is a two-topic rant. They overlap in some instances, but it directly has to do with how fandoms behave in general towards each other on Twitter and Tumblr, and also how absolutely hostile LGBTQ+ individuals are nowadays to each other on the same platforms. 

I come from a different generation and a different social media platform. I wasn’t on Twitter and Tumblr until last year. I’m not dismissing the fact that I may have missed out on decades worth of culture and social expectation. The places where I come from aren’t exactly fantastic either, but at least here, more queer people are interacting with each other with shared interests much more widely than in places like DeviantArt. The amount of culture and information I’ve absorbed in one year is more than I ever had within the past twenty years. It should be a good thing, and I’m disappointed that it wasn’t. 

This is not the way I wanted to come out online to anyone. I’ve been figuring out where I sit on the gender and sexuality spectrum for a while now. I will not document a specific timeline for anyone because that’s nobody’s business but my own. Within the last year, I took a massive stride forward in exploring things I legally didn’t think I was allowed to. I expected backlash from cishets and the usual thing I see LGBTQ+ folks write essays over, about how the world hates us, but at least we have each other. Shockingly, the backlash didn’t come from straight people. It came from other queers. 

I am 27 years old and I am entirely self-sufficient. I’m mixed Puerto Rican living in a red state. English wasn’t even my first language. I don’t have a network, so I’m teaching myself these things. I'm asking questions. I'm reading materials and expressions of self-experience and self-identity through fanworks and other autobiographical content. I'm actively trying to seek community and support through transgender and non-binary individuals with shared interests and so far all I've been met with is hostility and assumptions. So much so that I've now been made to feel like I'm on a timeline to figure it out so I can have a well-practiced, short introduction to copy and paste to every person who comes across me. And the only reason I even need one is so that they can make the decision to pass judgement over whether or not I'm allowed to speak, write, draw, wear, act, breathe the things I do. I'm disappointed. I'm anxious. I honestly feel more shoved into the closet now than I ever did before and I shouldn't be. Nobody should be treated this way when trying to figure out who they are. I probably won't even get an apology for the things that were said to me, either. I pride myself on the extraordinary caution I take to be politically correct, vetted through reputable sources, and as close to authentic as possible. And yet somehow I’m still getting called things like terf, transmisogynistic, triggering, when I’m fucking trans myself and all of my content gets vetted/REQUESTED by trans individuals. I get promised up and down that people are kind and welcoming in these sorts of spaces and honey, they aren’t. The people you choose to be friends with aren't as inclusive and friendly as you think they are. You don’t even know me and what body parts I have. The fact that you need to know in order to decide whether or not to treat me with respect is telling of an internal issue that has nothing to do with me. 

I have no reference point. I live in a place where laws ban anything gender and trans. I have no local resources or community. I've barely met any LGBTQ people in person. If I have, they never came out publicly. Most of my queer exposure has been online, and the fact that I've seen nothing but angry, mean, exclusive and discriminating behavior without any sort of reasoning why other than selfish defensiveness, I don't know where else I'm supposed to go for support. Something a lot of you guys need to take into retrospect is anyone who identifies as LGBTQ gets shot where I live. We have sundown towns here. If you don’t even know what that is, good, but also that’s telling of your privilege that you need to consider when talking to others not from blue states. I didn’t grow up in an environment where we had these highly liberal culture points and the word ‘gay’ was never allowed to be said out loud. We did not have gay clubs in school. I'm about as fucking late to this as you possibly can get. The only reason I know anything about our history, representation, and barely anything about what's socially acceptable and what's not, is because of the internet. So many of you had the privilege of being exposed to this information as young as under the age of 10. I didn’t. Sue me for not immediately knowing what every gender label means right off the bat. Half that stuff isn’t even legal here. 

I can't believe it's boiled down to the fact that I have to somehow justify my existence on this Earth and give an explanation that fits into predetermined boxes just to do anything to engage with other people. I have no time or space to figure it out. I’m disorganized and overwhelmed because I can’t ask questions about ‘can butches do this?’ ‘How versatile is transmasc/transfem?’ ‘Am I more genderqueer or do I fit under the trans umbrella?’ Gender and identity is fluid and ever changing. I have actually seen people harp and attack individuals for "defaulting" or "detransitioning" when they change their mind after giving this big coming out speech. It’s like support on these platforms is entirely conditional and a one-time thing. Y'all really expect people to wear the first style of shirt they buy for the rest of their life? Are we not allowed to do anything unless we know for sure? How’s college working out for you, for those who believe this mindset?

The vocally aggressive ones who use big words that contradict their statements can do, say, and be whatever they want.  But people like me can't. The ones who have to straight pass in public to keep their jobs and maintain their life safely. Some of us have been on our own since 19 with no family support. Consider the environment someone lives in before assigning your harsh assumptions. I can’t just change myself on a whim without doing significant damage control. Half the jobs I work for don’t even allow unnatural hair colors. If we list our pronouns as anything other than our assigned sex at birth, it causes legality issues with taxes. The way I have to navigate how to explore my identity and also keep a roof over my head and my bills paid may seem highly conservative to most. It’s in no way shape or form meant to reflect disrespect on how others live and express themselves. I am doing the best with the environment I have. The way I do things is not meant to be read as a message of ‘you’re doing it wrong because you’re not doing it the way I do.’ None of us are wrong. That should not be the subliminal message here. 

You know someone actually challenged me on that? Saying I was being harmful for purposefully straight presenting in public? Please research your country and state specific laws before you say that to me. If I could afford to live somewhere safer and queer-friendly, this conversation would be different. I am working on getting the fuck out of this state. But I don’t have a partner or parents money to default on. I’m doing this by myself. It’s not impossible, just a slow process. 

I'm disappointed and fed up. I've reached my limit, and I don't really care anymore if someone uses this essay to try and cancel me 5 or 10 years from now when the world goes through another gender renaissance of terms and identities. I will not put up with being treated like this when you refuse to listen to anyone else other than the sound of your own voice. I’m trying my best to learn, adapt, and express myself. I do not need to be lectured or be called derogatory things just because you think I’m coming from a malicious place.  

It’s not just about the hostility and gate-keeping behavior exhibited in online queer spaces. The same exact thing happens in fandom spaces too. People get pissy about queer headcanons and presentations so much to the point of taking it upon themselves to police the fandom and scrub it clean of “impurities.” I’ve watched y’all go through people's social media pages for any type of ammunition for justification of a personal grievance. It shocks me how much hyperfixation gets put on specific and morally harmless things when there are people out there writing diabolical shit way worse than what I have to offer. And y’all happily support them too but bark at me about what I make cus that author fits your social criteria and you assumed I didn’t. Don't think I'm ignorant to every single scrap of hate mail and harassment I've gotten over the past year and a half in my inboxes. Including the passive aggressive posts about my work, vague tweets, and discussions about me in discord servers. Over what? Have you actually read my work? If it’s actually as problematic as you say it is, provide me with a modern and unbiased example why this particular scene and execution is harmful. And not because you got triggered or disliked the kink, or read the summary/tags and assumed it was something it’s not. I don’t know how much more caution tape, massive warnings, obvious clear-cut tags (that were provided to me by queer individuals to PUT on there in the first place) out of insane amounts of caution I can do. I have always been willing to provide spoilers and explicit details in case someone is unsure how they’ll be affected by something I make. If you already don’t like it based on my warnings, that’s always been more than okay! My work is not for everyone. I’m getting tired of politely and respectfully saying please move on, because the message seems to be getting lost in translation. So let me be clear; 

Get off my pages if you don’t like what I make. It’s not for you. It will never be for you. Dead dove. DO NOT EAT. PREFERRED DEMOGRAPHIC 25+ ADULT CONTENT RATED E FOR EXPLICIT. I can recommend so many other fantastic creators with better suited content for you! If I could hide my content behind a roped off section deliberately keeping you from seeing it, I would. BLOCK ME. 

If your response to this section is ‘well then just don’t write it’. Honey, there’s people out here in the RWBY fandom writing trans incest actively commenting on all your shit and you respond back. A magic grimm-goo strap and monster smut featuring a transfem character (again, requested by literally 3 trans people and WRITTEN by one) should be the least of your worries. 

I have actively chosen not to address the harassment and hate mail, because it's sad that half of you hate me so much you need to make a point of telling me so regularly. I sincerely hope moving on with your lives will grant you peace of mind. Truly.

This is why I barely interact with anyone. Nothing but hostility, harassment, and expectation to behave in ways I cannot emotionally commit to. I am exhausted, uninspired, and have such a bad taste in my mouth it's proving extremely difficult to want to do anything creative. It’s been worse with my recent exploration of my gender identity. Opening one door to write about certain things somehow, miraculously, closes ones I previously existed in. I’m practically getting kicked out if I’m not 100% one way or another. I don’t go out of my way to shove my content down your throats. Why you feel the need to come to me and tell me you dislike my existence because you read it, despite me stating this is not for everyone and probably not for you, doesn’t have anything to do with me. Idk what else I can do. Disappear off the face of the planet, I guess. That seems to be what the overall solution is when y’all find something you don’t like. I can't believe I witnessed grown adults in their mid twenties with self-proclaimed senses of rightness start a trend on Twitter to go through people's mutuals and their likes to see if they’re socially acceptable in Fandom spaces or not. That was fucking ridiculous. And especially not fair to those who had their private accounts leaked and put on blast when it was already behind an vetted follower wall. Believe it or not, people draw weird, lewd, diabolical shit. They’re actually being responsible by putting it behind a paywall, or some type of ‘proof of age before following’ requirement. It falls on the people who go on there, take screenshots, and post them publicly for minors and non-consenting individuals to see without filters what was previously hidden. It’s irresponsible and immature. 

For fear of getting canceled by the Fandom, I moved all 600+ accounts I was following onto a private alt. I don't interact with my main anymore. I went so far into hiding and didn’t dare share anything about liking content made by people I wasn’t allowed to like, because that’s how cruel it is out here. It's honestly stupid I even felt like I had to do that. For what? People glazed over the brief moment of drama within a few weeks and went right back to posting the same shit they always have. They find new things to gossip about on their privs. New enemies to cancel on Twitter. New things to deem problematic and attack. 

I will be heard with this letter. I don’t care to be associated with anyone who treats people like this. I don’t believe in it, I won’t support it, and I’d rather have a small circle of people who won’t be rude or attack other people for existing. I’m not going to sit here and take the abuse any longer. Leave me in peace. There is no reason any of this should be happening. 

This is not meant to undermine the support I have gotten from the few who know what I'm going through and have given me the space to figure it out. I appreciate every question answered and insight provided as much as your abilities allow. I'm so grateful for it. I just wish it wasn't 2 people while everyone else is an asshole.

[vyadeity]

Being Army Can Be Exhausting

Some Army are going to hate me for this but at this point I don’t care.

First off, I really don’t expect anyone to read this and that’s fine because I expect it.

There seem to be some very blatant rules in being Army that I feel either get misconstrued or are enfrorced with iron fist and if not followed….well are you even Army? I’ve been Army for years but sometimes we can be toxic as all get out.

This of course doesn’t apply to all Army. Get it? Got it? Good. If you’re sensitive, leave. I’m not debating or arguing with anybody.

Now, I’ve made a few notes, walk with me here:

BTS Only!

Yeah, no. I’ve been a K-pop fan for 14 years now and I’ve seen this sentiment come and go. Guess what? It never sticks. While I love BTS, they aren’t the only group to ever exist. It may feel that way to a lot of Army, it’s simply not true. You liking other groups doesn’t make me or you any less Army. Sorry not sorry.

And while I’ve only ever loved two other groups as much as BTS (honestly I don’t see that changing), I’m not cutting off an industry because of some bs If Multi Not Army rule reinforced by some.

Being a Multi is not some grand betrayal to BTS.

Buy Everything, We Must Support!

I simply can’t express how much I disagree with this! You know how many people can’t “afford” to be Army if that’s the case?

This shit is expensive lol. It’s not for the faint of heart. While I’m fortunate to be able to fund my support for them, I very much recognize that it’s not the case for everyone. BigHit drops merchandise almost on the daily! Between BTS, solo endeavors, TinyTan and BT21 our money is vanishing out of our wallets monthly.

Now have I spent a good amount of money on BTS merchandise? Yep! Official and unofficial, I sure have. Even spent a good amount of money on both my BTS tatts. Is what it is. But again, that’s a privilege I recognize. Some Army can only show their support through YouTube streams. Why? They’re free. And I’m sure BTS appreciates them all the same.

The pressure to keep up with other Army financially is enormous and even if you don’t subscribe to that way of thinking, you’ve surely seen it.

“Look at my decked out BTS themed room or apartment!”

“I bought Gucci/LV/Dior because now that BTS are brand ambassadors I have to show my support!”

Good on them but good God. Next thing you know, you’ve spent thousands of dollars trying to keep up and living on ramen packets but it’s okay because…I dunno…Army? No! Get a white T-shirt, a permanent marker, write BTS across the front and call it a day. Again, you’re just as much Army as anyone else.

They’re a Solo! Stone Them!

Shut up!

This is my biggest gripe with this fandom.

They’re a solo, so what? It doesn’t automatically mean that they hate the rest of the group. I know, I’m cool with a few of them. Not all Solos are created equal. You people have turned them on par with Satan and it’s nowhere near that serious.

Sometimes, you gel with one member and one member only. Sorry people, that’s just true for some. Nothing against the other members at all.

And yes yes, they are some extremely problematic solos out there. Not negating that. I specifically talking about the ones that aren’t.

Have I personally been called a solo? No but that’s because I rarely express my views on anything BTS because you will be attacked for it if it’s not the most positive glowing view.

Also the things I’ve seen on X, Instagram, TikTok and here have shown me some of the idiotic reasons people are labled solos. These are the reasons I see the most on my side of these platforms:

“You only post one of two members”

It’s called having biases, have we forgotten about that?

“You only buy music from one member!”

My wallet, my prerogative. I love the group’s music but not all them seperatley. Oooo I said it!

Solo music wise I regularly listen to Joonie, Jimin, Yoongi and Jungkook’s music. I don’t necessarily vibe with Hobi, Tae and Jin’s music. I don’t dislike their music, it’s just not for me. But I do buy the albums in show of support.

“You only watch content with certain members and not others!!”

This goes back to my initial point, sometimes you gel with certain members more than others. I gravitate, like we all do, to certain personalities. It’s just that simple.

There’s also burnout. I can’t watch everything because I do sometimes get sick of them! Love them to Jin’s moon and back but sometimes, I need a break. Get over it!

Live, Laugh, Love, Breathe BTS

No.

We have lives outside of BTS.

We have other interests outside of BTS.

BTS paved the way? I agree but I’m not going to get into Twitter and other social media battles over it. What’s understood doesn’t have to be explained.

BTS have lives outside of BTS. Some of you need to follow suit.

All In All

There’s a certain sub group of Army that try to make the rest of us adhere to what their definition of what Army is. It’s not cool, it’s not fair and it’s out and out toxic. Your willingness to be incredibly overbearing and toxic doesn’t make you more of a fan than the next Army member.

It goes against everything BTS stands for and some of you have lost sight of that.

And I will forever die on that hill.

And if any of these bullets hit you, do yourself a favor and make Joon proud, do better.

[eddiediazismyhusband]

lmao buck didnt ditch tommy last episode, he just made a pit stop before going to spend the night with tommy, like do you think he spent the whole night there? and yeah, this episode, if he does leave tommy to go help eddie, that's what friends do ?? like what do you expect him to do, just ignore his friends life completely falling apart? buck is an adult relationship and adults respect the fact that they arent always going to be no 1 first priority ALL of the time. tommy respects that, especially because eddie is actively in a spiral, and honestly it's really refreshing to see such a healthy depiction of the balance between romantic/platonic relationships. i mean how many times have other couples been interrupted by similar emergencies, this is literally the emergency show like. yeah obviously when there is an emergency, the characters are going to drop everything and go to it. I swear you people have never had adult relationships, romantic or platonic, because you see a normal healthy relationship and are incapable of enjoying it. "not anti bi buck, just anti tommy kinard" not anti bi buck, just anti any relationship buck has with a man that isn't eddie

wow what did i say?? that was quick!

if you think buck left eddie’s house after hearing eddie say the words “yeah me too” in reference to being worried about him, then you do not know buck at all.

also when have we seen tommy respecting anything with buck? you all live in these made up scenarios that lou blabs on cameo when in reality all we have seen is tommy constantly be dismissive towards buck unless buck is actively paying sole attention to him. that is not a perfect and healthy relationship.

tommy is constantly speaking down to buck, calling him “kid” and refusing to call buck by the name he chose for himself. that is not the sign of someone who cares about buck to me.

as for being against any relationship buck is in with s man…. give me a man who actually shows that he gives a flying fuck about buck. give me a man who isn’t constantly being condescending and rude. give me a man who’s whole backstory wasn’t as a tool to put hen and chimney through hell at the 118. if buck was dating literally any other guy i wouldn’t be anywhere near as fed up with this plotline; but the fact of the matter is we have BARELY seen anything between them that isn’t tommy being a dick to buck unless buck is kissing him. that doesn’t read as a positive and healthy relationship to me. you all claim to care about buck so much, but then actively defend everything tommy does that is rude and condescending to buck as if buck somehow deserves it.

i am capable of enjoying normal healthy adult relationships because i have watched this show for seven years. i have seen these characters drop things for emergencies. i have picked up on the patterns they have laid down in previous storylines. i have experience working in filmmaking and know how to read into things.

normally i look at these asks and laugh because i don’t like to give a platform to people like you who hide begind anon to try and make buddie shippers out to be monsters but the fact that that post hasn’t even been up for ten minutes and you already felt the need to type a whole anon ask about how wrong i am when none of what you’ve pointed out has any canonical evidence of living in the truth? i have to laugh.

the block button is free. filtering out the anti tags is free. if you’re one of my followers…. when have i ever posted anything that would make you think i was pro tommy in any way that got you to follow me in the first place?

since you sent the ask on anon and i have no way of doing it myself, i invite you to go to my page and press the block button… the anti tags exist for a reason and if you don’t wanna see anti tommy content, either filter out the tags or block my blog. simple as that.

[chaosduckies]

Rising Tides (Chapter 3)

Whatttt resurrecting an old mer may fic from three months ago I totally didn’t forget about? Couldn’t be me haha-

But, this is for a very important reason…

Part 1 of 2 of my bday present for @da3dm!!! Happy early birthday 3D!!! :3 I hope you enjoy this because Idk- this was entirely driven by a single scene and I just had to somehow make it lead up to that… But I hope you enjoy it and to everyone who read :3

Word Count: 4.1k

CW: Talk about being a monster, uhhh I think that’s it (if it isn’t please let me know)

3- Nico 

It’s been three days. Three days of not being able to swim. Three days of being taken care of like some pet. Three days of not speaking a single word. 

Three days since I’ve been away from home. 

I was beyond homesick. I missed my parents, I missed my little shell collection I had along some makeshift shelves. I missed exploring the small coral reef right by my house. Why did I have to travel all the way out here in the first place? Just because I wanted to get away from town for a while? This was so much longer than a while. The worst part about it was that my tail wasn’t any closer to being all healed up. I actually think it was getting worse. 

I wasn’t able to get off the little area he had me in. The prison basically. I was scared that if I complained he would just keep me in a worse place. Like his mouth-don’t think about that now. There was also the problem that I wouldn’t be able to swim anywhere if I decided to swim off the mini platform. Maybe just glide over to somewhere, but that’s really it unless I was willing to crawl along the floor. I really want to get off of here though.

The thought stayed in the back of my mind. Honestly it would be worth it just to be outside. Since the giant mer didn’t seem to notice that I was getting tired of being in the same place doing nothing the entire time. Every time he was in the same room as me, I would hide myself in the tall seaweed or under that rock. Did I know he could very easily see me? Yes. Yes I did. Did I fear that he would and could just grab me and eat me at any moment? Only all the time. But he hasn’t. Yet. Which I was grateful for. 

Even if there was nothing to do, I still kept myself busy. I looked around the many, many rocky places, seeing if I could fit in all of the tiny caves. There was only one I couldn’t. Sometimes I’d mess with the big coral pieces and find a place comfortable to lay myself on and just fall asleep. I preferably liked the yellow brain coral since it had so many little branches for me to hang on to. What? I couldn’t swim so I had to figure out a way to entertain myself. 

At the moment, I was wrapped around some of the corals’ branches and laying down, trying to fall asleep. It was midday but I had nothing to do. I could go look for some more of those colorful rocks, but I didn’t really feel like it. At least not right now. I had a pile of them by that rock that I’ve made like a temporary home. I had wondered if I should try and make like a pathway with them, but that was stupid. 

I still had yet to learn the giant mers name. He’s never bothered to tell me, and he hasn’t bothered to ask me either. I didn’t really care though. This would all be over soon. My tail would heal itself up and then I can go back home, tell my parents what happened, and never, ever come out here again. Scratch the plan of living outside the community. Now I know why people stayed inside. 

The giant mer swam into the room, making me immediately try to scramble myself out of the coral I managed to tangle myself up in, only to find that I couldn’t get loose. I was stuck. Upside down, watching as the mer slowly turned my way, squinting. Right. I was hidden behind some of the seaweed. Was that a good thing in this case? I would think so since I didn’t really want him to see me so pathetic. 

I struggled to lift myself back up in the same position, rushing to get out before he sees me, but it was no use. If I tried to move my tail it would only sting me, leaving it burning for a couple seconds. I didn’t want to make my wound worse than it already was. I stole another glance to the mer, who was still trying to find me. I was guessing he used my tail as an indicator, but currently I was in a huge tangled up mess (Thank you me). I doubt he would see me unless he actually tried looking, which he would b doing pretty soon if I don’t get out. 

I already know how he does things. The other day, I was hidden pretty well. My tail behind my back and hidden in one of those tiny cracks in the cave walls. He was just supposed to pass by, but he took a quick glance over at where I was supposed to be, and when he couldn’t find me after searching for a while, he came really, really close and started digging through the place. The only reason he stopped was because I had finally stuck my tail out of the hole, hoping he’d stop digging around everywhere. He did, not saying a single word as he swam off. 

This was a different case though. I knew he’d find me after some searching, but I didn’t want him to laugh at how ridiculous I probably looked right now. I mean, even I thought it was crazy how I even managed to get myself in this situation. He might help after he’s had his share of laughing, and that was something I wasn’t ready for. He might hurt me, or he might just take me somewhere and finish me off. He might see me as weak and incapable of surviving on my own, so he’d just have mercy on me. Please don’t think about that right now…

Just as I had said before, if he couldn’t find me after a while, he’d check. Which was exactly what he was doing right now. I clasped a hand over my mouth when his hand hovered above, lightly pushing some seaweed away and looking closely at the tiny cracks in the wall. What do I do. What do I do. What do I- 

I let out a tiny squeak when his gaze flicked over right to me. My body instinctively started trembling as I tried my hardest to hide my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his large digits move away from the overgrown seaweed, which only made me assume the worst. 

“You’re stuck?” His voice was calmer than usual. I still didn’t give an answer. Even if it meant he’d just be angry at me for it later, I couldn’t answer him. I tried one more time to move my tail to get free on my own before he tried anything, but I winced and jumped when the stinging ran up my spine. Great. This was just great. 

“Stay still for a second.” He had ordered, and I listened. Not moving a single inch except for my entire body trembling as I saw those huge digits reach for me. I would have tried to swim off if I could. Sadly, my tail was not up for the task. I bit the side of my cheek as hard as I could to take my mind off the fact that he was just pinching me, not very lightly, against only two of his fingers and untangling my tail. Not very gently either. The stinging pain ran up my spine again, twice as bad, making me taste blood on the side of my cheek as I bit down even harder to hinder the pain. My arms were pinned to my sides at the moment, not making this any easier. 

As soon as he let go of me, I pushed myself up against the rocky wall, trying to calm my breathing down. Just two fingers and I can die-I shook my head, covering my face again and studying my now-free tail and how nothing that wasn’t already gone was there. 

“You’re welcome.” Was all he said before swimming off outside, leaving me alone. I grabbed a fistful of the sand below me, biting my lower lip, “Thank you…” I muttered, but he didn’t hear.  

———Callum———

I swam fast towards the ship yards, where there were tons of human ships. Some were larger than others, but otherwise they were just a little bigger than one of my hands. The two things they had in common? They were all broken, and they also happened to be homes to some sharks and large fish. The ones I usually proffered to eat. It was okay when I couldn’t find any, since they usually hide in the daytime, but they tasted so good. Since I was one of the bigger mers, I didn’t really need to eat much. Maybe once or twice a week. So, it’s not like these fish are rare or anything. 

Of course it was funny to find the tiny mer tangled up because of his tail, but I wasn’t about to laugh in front of him. I’d bet he was already scared of me finding him like that, and if I laughed that would have made things worse than they already were. He might think I’m some sadistic being. A part of me also felt sorry. It probably hurt him a lot being like that when he was… handicapped. He even tried getting himself out before I could help. Was he really that terrified of me that he’d rather hurt himself than let me offer some kind of help? 

Then again, I haven’t really been all that welcoming. 

It’s been a while since I’ve been around other mers. A couple years. The only one I’ve been around had been Archer but that was only because he kind of took me in as a pup. Otherwise, mers were usually too scared to approach me, and when they do by accident they leave just as soon as they come. It’s not like I don’t want to be around people, it’s just that it’s hard for me to make friends when no one can even stand being anywhere near you. 

I looked around for the fish, but there was no sign. Sighing, I headed back to my cave home. I was surprised the little mer hasn’t tried to escape yet. Sometimes I’d catch him collecting some of the rocks and placing them in a pile, or he’d be crawling around, barely ever moving his tail to push him forward. I didn’t know what he was doing when he was just crawling around. I do remember finding him in one of the tiny cracks in the wall, so maybe he was just messing with those? 

Did I feel bad? Yes. He couldn’t swim. At least not yet. For a human, that’s like not being able to walk. I felt so bad. Even worse because I was just keeping him in that same spot. I would offer to take him outside the cave, but I was afraid something might happen. I couldn’t live with that guilt! Not to mention he was deadly afraid of me. It’s not like I try to be scary. I’m just really… big. Probably intimidating to the little mer. I cared a little bit for the mer, partly because I could have definitely helped him out before his tail was mangled by a shark, but also because I felt incredibly bad. Again, he can’t swim for a while and that’s basically like a human losing their legs. But also because I’m pretty sure his tail will never heal. 

Why I think that? Because it’s been a while, and I’m pretty sure there should’ve been some kind of attempt at swimming, but the little mer still jolts and flinches every time they move their tail awkwardly or something brushes up against it. Which meant they might never be able to swim ever again. I would never wish that upon someone no matter how many times they’ve called me a monster or threatened me. Not being able to do the one thing you were capable of must be heartbreaking. I have no idea if the mer was getting better or not, but I guess all I could keep doing was trying to keep them alive. 

So no matter what this mer thinks of me, I would just have to hope that I was wrong and they can eventually start swimming on their own soon enough. It hurt to see them trying to swim everyday, not getting anywhere and too afraid to leave the little place they were in. I really wouldn’t care if I were being honest. Just as long as they don’t go outside without me they would be fine. I jus offered the rock as a place for him to sleep and stuff. Though, I guess he couldn’t even swim around the place, possibly only glide to one place and crawl along the sand and rocks the rest of the way. 

My eyes turned to the mer, currently hiding in the small patches of seaweed and lying on his back. Maybe I should take him outside for a while? But wouldn’t he be scared of me? I mean, based off of what happened earlier it didn’t look like he wanted to be touched. Well maybe because he’s like an inch tall compared to you. That might be it, but something kept telling me that it wasn’t just that. I guess there was no harm in trying, I mean the worst he could do was just deny my offer. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings if I were being honest, but for some reason some part of me really wanted this mer to trust me. 

I didn’t know if that was because I knew what would happen if his tail doesn’t heal up, or because I’ve just been lonely for so long. 

I slowly swam up to his little spot, watching his bright purple tail go underneath the rock he always hides himself in. Again, I wouldn’t just rip it out of the ground, its obvious he doesn’t feel safe without it. I bit the side of my cheek, letting out a sigh. 

“Hey, uh, would you like to go outside? Like, just to see something different?” I reminded myself to keep my voice quiet, watching as he curiously peaked his head out. My eyes widened, but that was quickly replaced with my usual tired look. The mer wiggled himself out of the tight hiding spot. I have no idea how he fits himself in there, but it amazes me. A part of me was shocked that he even willingly swam out. 

He laid on the soft sand, debating his answer, or maybe figuring out how to find his voice, before he finally spoke, “Y-you won’t… hurt me, right?” My normal response would have been to growl since that’s what everyone asks me when they first see me. Just because I’m big and look scary doesn’t mean I’m going to murder you in cold blood. Instead, I shook my head, slowly lowering my hand because I doubt he’d like it if I just grabbed him. No matter how much faster it would’ve been… 

The mer eyed my hand, clutching sand in their fists before crawling cautiously closer. I kept still, just watching carefully as they tried to hoist themselves up but couldn’t. Everytime they tried they winced, looking back at their tail but kept on trying. I was growing impatient, but I also felt sympathy. I mean, this is just another bit of proof that the little guy might never swim again. I sighed, moving my hand away and scaring them. Maybe I should learn their name? Since now they would have to stay longer than we had both initially thought. 

“What’s your name anyways?” I had asked, coming out a little too harsh than I meant it to be. They had moved back away a little bit, though it didn’t really make a difference to me. 

“N-Nico.” He whispered. I barely caught it before smiling in accomplishment, quickly replaced by by usual resting face, “Callum,” I watched him mutter my name under his breath and nod to himself like he was trying to remember it, “I think it’d be faster if I just… grabbed you.” A slight warning that caught Nico off guard. 

I wanted to do this quickly, but sadly I don’t think Nico was up for going fast. So instead, I reached down slowly, hearing a little squeak that almost made me laugh. My finger slipped underneath, raising him up a little and pinching him between my thumb and pointer. He squirmed a bit, trying to push himself out and looked panicked. Was I doing something wrong? Too tight? I loosened my grip, watching him slump and take long, deep breaths. Right I should probably get better at that. 

“Sorry…” I apologized, fixing him in my hand so his arms slumped over my pointer and thumb gently securing him so he wouldn’t slip out while I was swimming. Would this mean I have to swim slower? Probably. I might be a little… strange for Nico though. I mean it was for me all together. I’ve never been around such a small mer, and I was just surprised that he hasn’t screamed out of fear yet. It was obvious that he was having a hard time to bury that fear though. Of me. I winced to myself, giving the little mer time to adjust himself. 

I felt weird. To be near such a small being besides fish and the occasional sharks that pass by the area. I wasn’t at all used to this. I remember when I was a pup I was afraid of Archer since I was incredibly small to him, but I grew used to it pretty fast. If Archer didn’t have someone to help him it might’ve taken me so much more longer. And now I was a lot bigger than him and still growing. There was something wrong with me. 

The sad truth was that I didn’t have someone to help me. I was alone in this, and I have basically zero experience with people, let alone someone so small. I waited a while before Nico squirmed around to make himself comfortable, looking up at me, then immediately turning away. Again, scared. A part of me wished that he wasn’t, but I couldn’t let myself get attached. He’d eventually leave. Whether his tail was healed or not. It’s not like I can just keep him prisoner here, I just wanted to make sure that his tail would be fine enough to let him go back to wherever he lived. Probably a little community somewhere in the coral reef? I had no idea. 

“Is that good?” I looked down so I could see if he nods or not, not expecting a verbal answer, “Y-yeah.” He slumped. Kind of like he just… gave up? I didn’t know how to describe it. I was never good at these kinds of things. 

I slowly swam out, keeping the mer close to my chest and watching as he grew used to the fast currents. It’s been a while since he’s swam huh? I kept swimming out, finally reaching a secluded little spot where a few corals grew and fish swam around. A few swam away at the sight of me, but I didn’t pay attention since I’m sure I screamed “Big, hungry, predator.” I guess they were all true right now, but it’s not like I can’t go hunt for myself. There were a few fish I could go find, but I didn’t want to leave Nico by himself. 

“I didn’t know what you wanted to see. But if you have an idea I can take you there.” I offered, earning a shocked, yet ecstatic face from the smaller mer. I laid myself along a large rock, resting my head on my arms and opening up my hand for the mer to do whatever he was so excited about. I’m pretty sure they knew better to go off on their own after what happened with the sharks couple of days ago. 

Nico started pushing himself off with his tail, wincing every time he moved it but kept on going, his excitement driving him and very slowly and weakly swimming around in the water. I don’t think I should be letting him use his tail since he might make his condition worse, but I told myself that he needed this. He looked so happy. Almost like he had completely forgotten that I was there. But why would I care so much? It’s not like he’d be any different than any of the other mers that meet me. I save them, they call me a monster and run away. Sometimes plead me not to eat them. It left a disgusting taste in my mouth how they had always thought that I would eat another mer. I was one too. I frowned, a little sad but dug my head into my arms, resting my eyes. 

I didn’t know how long Nico kept himself occupied. Every once in a while I would look up and find him looking in small nooks and crannies for something. I didn’t particularly care though, as long as he didn’t feel trapped like he probably has been- I haven’t really been the best caretaker, but hey, he’s alive isn’t he? 

I knew the sun was setting, but every single time I looked up to make sure that the tiny mer was fine, he just looked all giggly and happy. Like he was before this huge mess happened. If it weren’t for that shark. I noticed a small pile of different colored shells where Nico was. So did he just like collecting shells? I mean it would explain why he was even way out here in the first place. Why didn’t he just look around the community he lived in? It seemed like a waste of time. But I guess he just wanted to attempt to find something new. 

I dug my head back into my arms, slightly groaning from not having eaten anything today, and partly because I was extremely exhausted. From what? I had no idea. Right now I wanted nothing more than to just go back to my cave and sleep. But of course I couldn’t just bring myself to grab Nico and force him back right where he was. I sighed, resting my eyes once again before my ears pricked up at a very quiet and small voice. 

Slightly turning my head, I saw the little more struggle to push himself closer to me, dragging something that was about as big as he was behind him. My eyed widened as he stopped for a split second, either scared, or just taking a break from moving such a large thing to him. Or both. I didn’t say a word as I noticed him shudder, trembling but kept moving closer to me and eventually stopping, dragging whatever he was carrying in front of him. I squinted my eyes to see what it was without getting too close since Nico seemed to have a set distance away from me. 

“U-Um… th-thank you.” He held up the bright blue shell that was almost as big as he was up. My eyes widened in shock. Was he… giving something to me? Thanking me too? I was confused of course, no one’s ever given me anything before besides Archer, so this was definitely new. My heart fell at the gesture, noticing how they struggled to keep the bright blue shell up. I smiled, slowly bringing my hand closer and helping him hold it up. I will say he was startled, but let out a sigh of relief. He probably thought that I was going to hurt him, but that was already expected if I were being honest. But… still. It felt nice to be given a gift. Or to even hear the words “thank you.” 

I laughed, seeing a small and shy smile appear on Nico’s face before grabbing two shells that were about the size of his tiny palms. “We… we can go now. I-I know you only stayed f-f-or me.” He stuttered, seeming a little embarrassed at the fact. I lifted my body up, pinching the shell he had given me and my free hand wrapping two fingers around his tiny and minuscule frame. 

I started swimming back, making sure he couldn’t see me smile as I held the tiny shell he had given me close. Such a strange little mer… 

——————

Hope you enjoyed part 1 of your gift 3D!! :D Happy early birthday again :3

Thank you all for reading this very forgotten fic- I will try my best to keep up with it if ya’ll really want me to. But thank you all again!

[mirkoluvs]

★ BUILDING A SNOWMAN WITH MHA CHARACTERS

characters: midoriya, bakugo, todoroki

genre: fluff !!

notes: first post !! hope you guys like it : )

izuku midoriya

- this man is EXCITED

- although he’s excited, he will literally refuse to let you go outside until you have all your winter gear on

- but once you both get geared up and go outside

- it only goes downhill from there.

“IZUKU, THE SNOWBALL”, “WHAT?!”, “IT’S ABOUT TO BREAK-“. you both just watched in silence as the final snowball needed to make the base of your all might inspired snowman collapsed back into a pile of snow on the ground. “you know, how about we just make mini ones instead?”, you suggested, coming to the conclusion that snowmen weren’t either of your thing’s. “yeah… that’s probably a good idea…”, he muttered. you both crouched down and began working on your mini snowmen, which soon became a whole army of mini snowmen.

katsuki bakugo

- he thinks it’s the stupidest idea ever

- “why would you waste your time doing stupid shit like that?“

- but with enough begging, you finally convinced him to do it

- same as izuku, he wouldn’t let you go outside until you had all your winter gear on

- “if you catch a cold, i’m letting you suffer”

- who knew how competitive one could get when it comes to making snowmen.

- you honestly think he’s discovered a new talent

“i thought you said this was stupid?”, you questioned him, looking at the perfect snowman in front of the two of you. “IT IS STUPID. i’m never wasting my energy on something dumb as this again, i only did it so you would quit nagging me”, he grumbled. “i don’t think someone who finds making snowmen stupid would be capable of making a perfect one”, you chuckled. “well duh, im good at everything. AND IT’S STILL STUPID. we’re done here anyway, so we’re going back inside”, he complained, grabbing your arm and dragging you back into the dorms, despite your complaints and protests.

shoto todoroki

- since he was stuck with endeavor as a kid, he didn’t really have a clear idea of what snowmen were.

- “snowmen? are they men with snow?”

- “you’re so close yet so far…”

- after you showed him a picture, he recognized the figure from seeing them out on patrol multiple times during the season

- he was still a bit confused but went along with it anyway

- whenever your hands got cold with the snow, he’d take your hands into his and warm them up with his quirk

- for someone who didn’t really know what a snowman was until a few minutes ago, he honestly did pretty good?

- well, almost.

- somehow, the hardest part for him was the decorations.

“shoto, dear… why is the carrot on the snowman’s head…?”, you asked him. he looked over with innocent, confused, eyes. “i thought this was his hat, is it not?”, he questioned, looking back at his creation. scanning the whole thing, you realized that he completely misused everything. he gave the snowman a hat and buttons, but no face. “so he just has no face, then?”, you asked him. “i’d prefer not to do that, i heard that they may come alive if you give them a face”, he said in a very serious tone. you held back your laughter as you nodded, snapping a picture of his snowman before heading back inside

© mirkoluvs. please do not copy, modify, or repost on other platforms. thank you !!

[moonlight-prose]

BLOOD ALONG THE MOON

➛ 03. WICKED NIGHTS

a/n: honestly i didn't expect to take a year to ever post about this fic again. if i'm being honest i figured this would become an abandoned series. solely cause the inspo for this character completely left my head. but i couldn't let go of our reporter and their love story with this bat. so while the updates may take time, i'm ready to keep going with this. enjoy.

summary: halloween was always been your least favorite night of the year, but circumstances make it so much worse.

word count: 8.2k+

pairing: bruce wayne x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, cussing, angst, fluff, awkward beginnings, a small bit of romance, murder, death, crime scenes, grief, gratuitous prose about the darkness of gotham.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

Halloween. Your least favorite night of the year.

The city streets were crowded with people; a sight not unusual to the dark pit that Gotham transformed into. But that didn’t mean you had to like it. Even getting to work was a struggle due to the overcrowded platform of the subway and the scarcity of cabs. If you had your way you’d wish everyone would suddenly vanish—giving you a chance to find some reprieve before the onslaught of darkness that plagued this night every year. Although you were foolish enough to hold out hope. Foolish enough to believe that things would be different; that nothing wicked would befall this night.

If only you’d known.

Work was filled with people milling about, some in costumes, some not. You wore your usual black coat—a pair of boots accompanying your look. If someone were to ask you’d claim you were dressed as you were every other day of the year—as a reporter working yourself to the bone. It would be sure to get a laugh from a person or two in this office.

It always did in the end.

Only this time…you weren’t laughing.

The interview you had with Bruce Wayne yesterday continued to bounce around in your mind; the thought of how to write it, still missing. You didn’t want to sound like every other magazine that sprouted nothing but gossip. There’s a reason why you chose to work at the Gotham Gazette. So you could get into the nitty and gritty of the story—no matter how dark it got in the end. To you this was either a story people would talk about forever, or it would remain a forgotten piece that would later wind up in people’s trash cans come morning the next day.

“Day.” Henry leaned against the doorway of his office. A pencil behind his ear, his glasses propped on the end of his nose, and a cup of crappy coffee in his hand. “I need to talk to you.”

You hoped you would have at least five minutes of time to breathe before you were called into what you liked to claim was the equivalent of the principal’s office. But it seemed that Henry Goldfinch decided to pick on you this week more than anyone else.

The interview notes you’d jotted down during the night were crammed into your small black notebook—nearly burning a hole in your pocket. There was no doubt in your mind that he’d ask you about them; intent on seeing a full story by tomorrow night.

“Look Henry I did the best I could with the guy, but he barely even spoke—” You were cut off at the look on his face. “Am I in trouble?”

��I just got a call from Mr. Pennyworth.”

Shit, you were so fired.

“If he wants to retract any statements then I’ll work with what I've got, but you were the one who gave me this story and I think I can do a damn good job on it.”

“Would you let me talk?” Your jaw snapped shut, cutting off the remainder of your ramble; or what you’d like to call reasons why he shouldn’t fire you. “Don’t unpack your things.”

You felt your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Apparently you caught Mr. Wayne’s eye,” he said, settling down in his seat. “That call was Mr. Pennyworth giving me notice that Bruce Wayne is heading down to The Gotham Gazette today.”

“What?” you exclaimed, nearly falling into the chair behind you. “What the fuck for?”

“He wants to take you to lunch, kid.”

You fell into the chair, staring wide eyed at Henry who regarded you with a smirk.

Bruce Wayne wanted to take you to lunch. He was coming to your work in order to…pick you up.

Any way you tried to string it together, the news still remained hard to comprehend. Still you caught on to Henry’s words from before. You’d caught Bruce Wayne’s eye and now you were going to have to deal with the consequences of that. This would be the first time in years since he’d left Wayne Tower to do something as mundane as go to lunch. Let alone with someone like you.

“What do I do?” you croaked, trying not to panic as the reporter in you attempted to take over. Was this only a social call? Or did he want to do a follow up interview?

Henry leaned forward, the damned smirk still on his face. “You go to lunch with him. Maybe he likes you.”

“Likes me,” you scoffed. “I’d no sooner learn the identity of The Batman before Bruce Wayne admitted to liking me.”

You wanted answers like any sane person would, but the idea that Bruce Wayne possibly liked you left words unavailable to you. That was the farthest thing from the truth, except coming up with some other alternative left you with nothing yet again. What the fuck were you being called to lunch for? You hoped it was just him personally asking you to rip up the notes you took from yesterday while he watched.

“They’ll be here soon. I’d get your ass moving.”

“Right.” You stood slowly, a feeling of unease spreading through you with every step towards the door. “Did—um—Mr. Pennyworth…did he sound upset?”

Henry scoffed, taking a sip from his coffee. “And here I thought you didn’t give a shit if you pissed people off Day.”

You felt the switch flip in your mind. A reminder of who you truly were on the inside coming back like lightning cracking across your body, and you stood taller in your place. You didn’t care. You never had.

“I don’t.”

“Atta girl.” He tipped his cup slightly your way, watching as you walked back out into the office—the straight set of your spine once again returning.

You didn’t come to Gotham to make friends. You came here to work, to build a career that would outlast you if you were determined enough. Pissing off Bruce Wayne had never been on your list, but you figured it was bound to happen eventually. It was either now or later in life. Thankfully everyone had their hands full worrying about The Batman and the election—so you pissing off the Prince of Gotham would go unnoticed.

Grabbing your bag, you did a quick sweep of your desk to make sure that everything was accounted for before you left. You weren’t sure how long this lunch would take, but you didn’t intend to come back later.

The elevator doors opened once again with a loud creak, thankfully revealing it to be empty. Your heart thrummed in your chest a mile a minute, the tension still in your shoulders as you walked towards what might be the end of your career. While you knew the possibility of this simply being a social call was high, you couldn’t ignore what might very well happen. The ding of your stop brought you out of your daze enough to get out and head towards the front doors.

Glancing up towards the sky you saw the gloominess still remained—a reminder of where you were, what this city was reduced to. While you may have called it pollution of the environment, others would call it weather. After all there was always a difference in opinion when the opinion came a bit too close to the actual truth.

A sleek black car sat directly outside of the doors, a man in a black coat was hunched beneath an umbrella leaning against its side. You recognized him the second he raised his head, his blue eyes practically singeing your skin. Henry really wasn’t kidding when he said Bruce Wayne himself was coming to pick you up from the Gazette. People stopped and stared at the spectacle that was this man. By all means he was considered a hermit from the rumors that spread through Gotham like poison, and yet there he was, meeting with an unknown woman—a reporter nonetheless.

“You don’t seem like the lunch date type of man,” you said, standing far enough under the awning of the building where you didn’t get wet from the rain, but still felt it splatter against your coat.

His lips twitched, eyes skimming your figure before flicking up back to your face. You wanted to ignore the flutter in your chest from that simple gesture, but your body wouldn’t let you. It seemed that whoever Bruce Wayne was…he had an affect on you—a hold that refused to be severed.

“It wasn’t my idea.”

Scoffing, you turned to glare at a man who stood only a few feet away, clearly eavesdropping in on the conversation.

“So you aren’t here to have lunch with me. You’re simply here by the orders of Mr. Pennyworth,” you retorted.

“Alfred,” he said, finally standing to his full height for the first time since you met him. He was taller than you actually anticipated. “He thought it would be a good idea.”

“He thought going on a date with a reporter was a good idea?”

He shrugged slightly, the tension in his shoulders made the movement awkward. “Would you call this a date Miss…”

“Day.”

“Day,” he repeated quietly, his lips forming around the word as if it was already familiar to him. “Interesting name.”

“Nick-name,” you replied.

He nodded slowly, his gaze so intense you found you had to keep looking away. “Your real name isn’t printed on any of your bylines.”

You smiled albeit rather ruefully as you stepped close enough to be underneath his umbrella with him. “I’m afraid you’ll have to earn my real name Mr. Wayne.”

Again you watched—entranced—as his lips twitched slightly. Almost like he wanted to smile, but forgot how exactly to do it. He’d been in pain so long, suffering the grief of losing those he loved most for nearly his entire life, and not once had he learned what the true meaning of happiness was. For some unknown reason, you wanted to be the first one to show him.

“Okay,” he murmured, turning towards the passenger seat door and opening it for you. “And it’s Bruce.”

The words were accompanied with an outstretched hand to help you into the car, his hold simultaneously gentle yet firm as you sat. Your eyes met his briefly, something flickering to life between your gaze, before the door shut entirely and you were left in silence for a few brief seconds. It gave you enough time to catch what little breath you had in your chest—the interaction far too electric for someone like you.

Get some fucking sense.

You weren’t the type of person Bruce Wayne would fall for. One day he would find someone as wealthy as him, someone who knew his life due to shared experience. You hated those fucking words with a burning passion. Shared experience with people never went over well in your line of work. For a reporter, shared experience meant you had nothing original to say. It meant that you were the same as everyone else around you and to you that was damnation itself.

“Where would you like to eat?”

The question was barely loud enough for you to hear over the traffic and rain, but his soft tone caught you in its hold until you were solely focused on him. Once again that unfamiliar spark of energy crackled in the air. You were afraid that if this continued, you’d walk out of this lunch date with a newfound crush on Gotham’s Prince. That thought alone was enough for you to tear your gaze away—settling in the seat and staring through the front window.

“You invited me, Mr. Wayne. Why don’t you pick?”

He fell silent, hands shifting from his lap to the steering wheel and back again. “I don’t know many places to eat around Gotham anymore.”

Of course Bruce Wayne of all people would eat at home day in and day out. Thus was the luxury of having a personal chef in the Wayne Tower. Although you couldn’t stop the small grin from forming at how funny you found all of this.

Going to lunch with this man. It should have been absurd—almost laughable—but there you were. About to tell him to drive into the heart of the city just to take you to your favorite diner. Reporters would murder you just to stand in your spot. To spend mere moments with him. Yet it seemed that all you had to do was exist.

Rather than dwell on the moment any longer, you told him where to take you and it seemed that he knew the city a lot better than you expected. Pulling out of the spot with ease, he swiftly swung the car around in a rather illegal u-turn before making a quick right turn. You had to hand it to him…he knew how to handle a car. Part of you wanted to call it sexy, but you killed that echo in your head before it could manifest into something else.

Feelings were dangerous in your line of work—having seen the pain several reporters went through when they fell into bed with lethal people. You wouldn’t wind up like them. All you could allow in your life was friendship, nothing more. A friendship with Bruce Wayne wouldn’t hurt you. Not when he refrained from speaking to anyone, let alone the worst of the worst that roamed Gotham.

He turned another corner, the rain getting worse the further you traveled into the city. Driving in this weather would have stopped you from going, but it didn’t seem to phase him. He took it in stride, focusing intently on the road with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting between you. It would be so easy to pick it up, to run your fingers over the lines in his palm. And for a moment you indulged. You imagined what being with him would actually feel like.

Would he treat you the same way? Or would you suddenly become special. You couldn’t picture him treating anyone in a loving manner, let alone you and that’s where the fantasy died.

“That’s it,” you said, pointing to the flickering sign out front that only read DEM as opposed to its usual bright DEMETER’S TABLE name.

“Is it closed?”

You laughed, barely a puff of air, but you knew he heard it. Opening the door you ignored the downpour that threatened to soak you down to your very soul, and patiently waited until he got out himself. The expression on his face caught you slightly off guard as you watched him get out. You would have figured it was nothing—having seen him wear a grim expression all throughout your interview with him—but this looked different.

“I know it’s not the best place, but the food is—”

“I could have opened the door for you.”

That killed the worry filling your chest in an instant. He wasn’t upset that you brought him to what looked like the shittiest diner in all of Gotham. In fact, he could care less about that. He wanted to open the door for you…like a gentleman.

You nearly laughed in his face, but the rain was starting to seep into your shoes, causing your whole body to shiver and he fared no better. It caused his hair to stick to his face, the coat doing absolutely nothing to keep him dry.

The sign from the diner cast a luminescent glow across his face, highlighting his high cheekbones. You found yourself wanting to brush your lips across them. Though it was daytime and the sun remained stuck behind the clouds somewhere, you still felt as if night encased you in its cold embrace. Yet standing there with him in the rain, keeping his stare, you felt warmth flicker in your chest. As if he had placed a piece of the sun in your heart.

“You don’t have to do that with me,” you said softly, turning away before you grew too attached to this odd man.

The bell above the door rang throughout the building, alerting her of your presence. Your friend Dem stood behind the counter, her graying black hair wrapped up in a loose bun—a pen going directly through it to hold it in place. She looked up at the sound, a broad smile pulling at her wrinkled cheeks and bringing to light the soft lines around her eyes. When you first moved to Gotham she was the person who practically took you under her wing.

“Day! You are soaked hun. You shouldn’t be out in this weather.” She walked around the counter, immediately handing you a hot steaming cup of coffee. “Especially not since you just got over pneumonia. What are you trying to do, kill your…”

She trailed off, her eyes growing wide as the bell rang again and Bruce entered behind you, looking worse than you did. You knew the shock she was feeling, having gone through it about thirty minutes ago yourself, and did your best to drag her back to the present.

“Got a free table?” you joked, knowing the diner was practically empty.

That seemed to do it. The smile—though hesitant this time around—was back as she gestured to the second booth by the door. “I’ll be right with you sweetie.”

“Thanks Dem.”

You slid into the old brown booth, feeling your clothes stick to the fake leather. “Here.” You pushed the mug of coffee his way. “It’ll help with the cold.”

“I’m okay.” He reached up to push it back, but you held it in its place.

“I’m not asking Wayne.” Smiling, you leaned back. “Besides…can’t have one of the most important people in Gotham getting sick on my watch. I’d definitely be fired for that.”

Without another word, he lifted the mug to his lips, placing them directly where yours were mere moments ago. The spark flared to life again, cracking like a familiar bolt of lightning through your body and burning you to the core. Looking away, you clasped your hands together in an effort to seal in any heat that might try to escape your body. You weren’t sure if you liked the feelings that were causing your body to go haywire. For all you knew, you could have been imagining this entire thing.

You wouldn’t put it past your mind to play tricks on you as you sat across from him.

“Why this place?” Once again, his question caught you off guard.

“What?”

He set the mug down, pushing it your way. “Why this diner?”

His blue eyes were fixed on your face, as if attempting to see past the shield you wore day in and day out. When a person suffered enough pain to last an entire lifetime, they tended to become closed off. You were that person and from what you could see…so was he. The temptation to ask him how he survived through the pain, how he managed to come out of it at the end somewhat of a person, was on the tip of your tongue.

But you figured it was better to stay silent—keep it to yourself until the right moment came up.

“It was the first place I came to when I first moved to Gotham. I used to live a block away from here.” Sipping on the coffee, you tried to busy yourself to avoid his piercing gaze. “Though, I had to move because my apartment got broken into while I was sleeping.”

Something flashed in his eyes. Anger? No…something else.

Clearing your throat, you continued in the hopes of appeasing your now racing heart. “Anyways. Dem took me in, she took care of me and it felt nice. So I stayed.”

Before he could reply, Dem arrived with two plates in her hands. You smelled the burger before she even placed it on the table—your stomach clenching with hunger. Her specialty that you first ordered when you came here. It made your heart warm seeing her place it in front of Bruce, her smile kind and welcoming. No matter who he was, Dem always saw the good in people. Saw what they needed and willingly gave it to them without question.

She was a mother to the strangers that wandered into her diner.

“More coffee?” she asked, staring at the single mug that sat empty in the center of the table.

You noticed she didn’t ask if you’d like a second cup, her body language telling you enough. She thought this was a date. You weren’t sure if you should correct her or not.

“Please,” Bruce said, interrupting your thoughts. He handed her the mug, never asking for an extra one, but seemingly happy to share with you.

Once again your heart fluttered and this time…you let it.

“Dem’s burgers are possibly the best thing to be created.”

His lips pulled up in a small barely there grin. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You should,” you replied, smiling around a bite of your fry. “As a reporter all I have is my word.”

You didn’t catch the way he looked at you, his eyes shining with something that hadn’t been there in a very long time. Instead you focused on gazing out the window at the rain. The way it transformed the city into something dangerous. Yet even through the darkness you could see it. The small hints of the light seeping through the clouds and shining down on an otherwise grim place.

Carole King played on the old speakers—a favorite of Dem’s you learned early on—and it created a soft symphony of warmth as it mixed with the rain. You wanted to stay there forever. In a place of comfort and love.

You’d even include Bruce in it too.

He bit into the burger, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as the taste burst across his tongue. The sight caused your heart to lurch in your chest, warmth spreading up your neck and into your face. And you tried your best to shove it down. How ridiculous of you to find the sight hot, but there you were. Speechless, watching as he enjoyed one of your favorite meals.

Dem’s voice humming to the song snapped you out of your ogling; you looked to her to find something else to focus on. Except the small knowing smile she wore on her face and the wink she threw your way did nothing to help your situation. Rather than dwell on it, you began to eat. Content to remain silent until the both of you finished.

The singular cup of coffee was set down in between you two, dragging your gazes back to one another. You glanced at the mug, then back at him. As if that was the defining factor of whether or not this was a date. He chewed thoughtfully on a fry, his eyes still on you, while you mulled over whether or not you could magically turn the one mug into two.

It turned out to be an impossible feat, but one you found you didn’t mind.

“So tell me—” You pried your trench coat off, draping it over the back of the booth. He’d discarded his thirty minutes ago, his black button down now rolled to his elbows. “What’s Bruce Wayne been up to?”

His eyebrow quirked, lips twitching like he was fighting back a smile. “This isn’t a second interview is it?”

You shrugged. “I’ve gotten enough for my article already. This is me asking.”

“Hm.” He leaned forward, hands clasped together and hair falling back into his eyes. “And who are you exactly?”

The smile you’d been fighting for an hour came through. “I don’t think you’ve earned that yet.”

The coffee mug had been refilled three times now, your energy coupled with the spark of attraction (you were still denying) between you brought life back into your body. While he didn’t disclose much about himself—saying bits and pieces here and there—you still found yourself engrossed in his words. You wanted to know more, to see the man behind the mask that was Bruce Wayne.

Maybe if you were lucky enough he’d show you his true self one day. For right now you were content to remain just as you were.

A reporter who shied away from any aspects of love, sitting with a man who was discovering what the meaning of joy was all over again.

“I can wait,” he murmured, his eyes no longer resembling the cloudy skies outside. You could see the lightness in them—the shining blue unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

You glanced down at the mug, seeing something in it you hadn’t before. For whatever unknown reason Bruce Wayne—the man who had been reclusive his entire life—trusted you. Even though he didn’t say it outright he didn’t have to. You saw it well enough and something told you…he knew you could see it. He wanted you to see it.

Time was slowly ticking away, reminding you that you had a job to get back to, but you still remained. Sitting with your elbows pressed to the table—unconsciously trying to get as close to him as possible. Maybe if you never left the world would melt away. If you became a permanent part of this diner, the city that happily ate away at every resident would leave you be. You’d be forgotten in a place that thrived on the lost and forlorn.

“Why me?” you inquired after the beat of silence threatened to swallow you whole.

The soft lilting notes of Billie Holiday echoed in the empty diner. Dem was nowhere to be found and the only two remaining customers were you and Bruce. Still sharing that singular cup of cold coffee. It had created a ring on the table, your lipstick a slight stain on the white mug. The color smudged off from where Bruce had placed his lips. Sharing a hint of a kiss that would never be.

He leaned back in the booth, no longer stiff—the nature of a man who had hid from society for years now traded in for someone different. His body language was enough to make you stare. Transfixed on the way his shirt continued to hug his figure even though it had dried an hour ago.

“Why not you?”

You huffed. “Answering my question with another question. And here I thought I was the only reporter in the room.”

“I’ve had my fair share of interviews.”

“None that I’ve read.” You slid your plate to the side and clasped your hands together in the hopes of looking as intrigued as you felt. “Do tell Mr. Wayne.”

The tension was beginning to set in his shoulders again. A small overlay to the man that lingered beneath. As if he was bringing up a mask he constantly carried with him. He hid constantly day in and day out, but right now he didn’t sit before you the Prince of Gotham, but instead a man who was trying to relearn how to live. Whether you wanted to admit it to yourself or not…Bruce Wayne was like you in ways you couldn’t have imagined.

“Alfred keeps them from printing.” The admission alone was enough for you to change the subject, but he continued to talk—cracking open yet another small sliver to the impenetrable armor he wore. “People they don’t…they always look for something wrong.”

You nodded, digging your nail into your palm. “Flaws are sometimes easier to sell.”

The sad truth of being a journalist is more often than not people weren’t looking for the truth. At least not in Gotham. They wanted something to sell. A piece of the person that one would deem too vulnerable to be shown to the rest of the world. They wanted to satiate the greed that clawed its way to the front. Rarely was the truth their only reason for writing a story.

“You’re not interested in flaws.” His eyes grew softer, hand splaying on the table to trace a random shape as he watched you. Saw through the facade you wore. He dug right down to the depths of your persona and dragged it to the surface—a relenting and brutal act.

Yet you wanted it to happen all the same.

“I like the truth.” You distracted yourself with the shape of his finger, the length of it as it shifted. “It sounds better.”

For a split second you allowed your eyes to flicker up, to meet his in the dim lights of the diner, and you finally caught hold of that niggling emotion. The one that held you captive in your own right. You liked him. Despite only meeting him yesterday, you found yourself drawn in by his haunted eyes. The same ones that practically burned a hole in your skin, until he was forever a part of your form.

Bruce Wayne felt familiar to you.

Not in the way that a stranger finds a face in the crowd familiar. Not even in the way an old friend would feel seeing someone from their past once more.

He was familiar in the way two souls separated beyond time and space were familiar. You couldn’t quite explain it, but somehow you knew these eyes that traced the lines and curves of your face. Committing you to memory. You were two distant beings made up of different particles of the universe. Yet there in that diner you found one another—as if gravity had dragged your cells together all along.

Two halves of a celestial being finally forming to be one.

You almost wanted to laugh at the notion that Bruce Wayne and you had anything in common. Let alone that there was any physical attraction between you.

But there it was. The truth you’d been searching for all along.

You could almost laugh at how fucked it all was.

How horrifically beautiful.

Night was beginning to settle over the city, calling to the horrors that lingered in the shadows. Prompting them to finally emerge for the one night where fear ran rampant in the streets of Gotham. Being scared on Halloween wasn’t an unusual occurrence, but this year things felt different. You could practically taste the blood that would run through the grime filled streets come morning. The same one that you would later have to report on.

Bruce stood beside his car next to your apartment building. You had directed him here after another hour spent in Dem’s diner barely speaking yet saying more than you would have liked. For some reason he was able to unearth more about you than you had found out in the entirety of yesterday’s interview with him. If being a Wayne didn’t wind up working out for him, he’d make a killing out of being an investigative journalist.

You told him as much before you left.

“Got any plans for tonight?” you asked, already knowing the answer you’d receive.

He looked up to the slightly darkened sky, at the way that the clouds did nothing to allow even slivers of the sunset to break through. You had to hand it to the city. There was some irony in the way even nature plagued the city in darkness. As if its legacy was always meant to be this. An abyss that drowned everyone within.

A barely there quirk appeared on his lips. “I’ll be out of the city tonight.”

Convenient.

The thought crossed your mind of asking him to join you for a lonesome dinner and half a bottle of wine. But the line had been drawn in the sand long before you agreed to accompany him for lunch. An invisible border you couldn’t cross. He was a Wayne. A part of a world you could only reach through second hand stories and gruesome aftermaths.

If the lunch had been more than strangers sitting across from one another, you would have joked about your house being Capulet and his Montague. But something told you irony wasn’t his strong suit. Nor would it favor you being able to see him another time. That is…if he even wanted to see you. For all you could tell this was merely a social call placed on his shoulders by Alfred—the man you came to see as Bruce’s father figure.

“Well…”

“Would you—”

You smiled, feigning being professional for the sake of your giddiness. “You go first.”

He cleared his throat. “Would you be available in a few days?”

“Oh…” Rather than take it easy on him, you decided that the best course of action was to jab at his wall just a bit. Just to see if something would crumble even further. So with a smile you stepped closer, watching the rise and fall of his chest quicken just a bit more. “That doesn’t sound like Alfred speaking.”

A heavy breath left his lungs—washing warm across your skin. “It’s not.”

“So this is you asking?”

He nodded, probably irritated with the way you were clearly teasing him. But that’s the thing. He let you tease him. He gave in to your small ruse and let it play out until you felt like you were finished.

If you could get away with this, who knows what else you’d be able to get away with. Perhaps calling him a stupid nickname. Or even getting to know his favorite color.

Something told you it was brown.

“What’s your favorite color?”

His eyebrows rose, mouth parted slightly as if you’d thrown him for a bigger loop than anyone had before. And much to your own surprise…he answered. Honestly.

“Black.”

Ah…you were close.

“Tuesday. The rush of Halloween will be over and my paper should give me some free reign. I’ll be available then.”

Another solemn nod as if you just informed him that you were attending a funeral for a recently departed loved one. You learned to realize that his nods were simply a part of his personality. Eventually you would be able to decipher what each one meant, what they were attempting to say without using words. His voice seemed to be an afterthought—actions speaking louder than words could say.

“Tuesday it is,” he replied with a soft hesitant smile. You wanted to see it again, ask him to never frown again, but this was merely a fleeting moment in the grand expanse of things.

He stood there for a minute more as if leaving was the last thing he wanted. Then got into his car, turned the engine once, and drove down the street. And you watched him disappear into the already dark horizon. The day never existed to begin with, but the storm wouldn’t stop the chaos of the night. So you gave one last glance to the street before heading inside, ready to hole yourself in your locked apartment til sunrise the next day.

The shrill ringing of your cell phone startled you from your small nap on the couch. A throw blanket that was a mishmash of colors was thrown over your body, a half empty wine bottle on the coffee table and the book Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde face down beside it. Ever since finding it in the Wayne tower, you began to look through the old text. With the silly hope that you would find pieces of Bruce Wayne in the words.

“What?” you grumbled, rubbing a hand over your face to rouse yourself from the groggy state of sleep. Your brain was sluggish, body content to remain on the couch for many more hours, but Henry’s grim voice startled you awake.

“The Mayor’s dead.”

You sat up. “What the fuck do you mean the Mayor’s dead Henry?”

A quick glance at the clock told you it was nearing the middle of the night. The noise outside still persisted though. People always partied the worst on this night. Especially in this city.

“If this is a joke—”

“Shut up and listen will you.” Your mouth clamped shut, eyes falling to the book. “They found him in his home. And it’s gruesome. Whoever did it was a right fucked up person, but I can’t get there at this time. The streets are too packed.”

The breath caught in your throat, even as your eyes stung with exhaustion. “And I’m closer to the scene.”

“It’s a favor and it’s a big one Day.”

You sighed. “I’ll leave in ten. Who’s on the scene?”

“Gordon.”

Good. Gordon never gave you shit for being a reporter like the other detectives did. Many wanted your kind out of Gotham all together simply because of how good you were at getting your nose into places it shouldn’t be. With Gordon there at least you would have a chance to do some meaningful reporting—or at least help where you could in figuring this out.

Henry listed out a few details they told him, what was going to occur within the next few days. But all you could think about was Bruce. You’d miss your chance to see him Tuesday after all. Too stuck in the midst of a city wide crime scene that would take up more or less all of your time. Which left him on the outs. You scribbled down in your black notebook a note to call him and ask for a rain check.

At least then one good thing in your life wouldn’t disappear without a trace.

You grabbed your coat, shoved your arms in the sleeves, and locked up your apartment as the weight of the news rested heavy on your shoulders.

With the death of the Mayor came an investigation. One that would no doubt lead to more bloodshed in the streets and leave a city divided amongst itself. You had heard about shit like this happening in Gotham, but you were never around to see it yourself. Yet there you were. Right in the thick of it with no other option but to see the chaos through.

People filled the streets. Some drunk, some not. Which didn’t make getting to the scene easier. You fought through the crowds, managed to catch a train down there, and somehow came out unscathed. And above in the night sky…his sign hung like a full moon. It called out to the chaos of the night, and made a promise to those who liked the cover of darkness that they would only be safe for so long.

“Shit,” you muttered, feeling the rain strike against your cheek. It stung as you crossed the street.

Police cars lined the sidewalk, sirens blaring and bright, and for a moment…there was light in Gotham. You could barely see in front of you, but at least they illuminated the pathway to the front entrance. Many of them were taping off the building, others standing around and gazing at the sky—probably asking themselves if he would show up.

“If it ain’t Miss Day!”

You felt the weight lighten as you reached the top of the building steps. “Officer Martinez. Funny seeing you here.”

“You come to talk to me tonight?”

The smile was involuntary on your lips as he let you head in with him, holding the door open for you. Martinez always had a soft spot for you when things like this befell the city. After all he was usually around when it came to Gordon and with a job like yours, you ran into cops a bit too often for your liking. But Martinez was the exception. He brought you coffee on long nights at crime scenes, cracked jokes at the worst times, and even drove you home if he was around.

“Of course,” you said with a grin, bumping his shoulder. “I’m here to write a piece about the greatest cop in the city.”

He scoffed. “Flattery will get you everywhere chica.”

“Do you know what happened?”

Another flight of steps revealed even more cops scattered around the place. You could see the flash of a camera in the distance, whispered voices filling the air as you entered. Several cops gave you nasty glances, scoffing to themselves at the fact that you were allowed to enter. A reporter. Someone beneath them. To them you were the vulture that came to pick apart the mess they were left to clean.

“All I know is what Gordon told me. And even that’s not much.”

“Where is Gordon?”

Martinez shrugged. “Went out to fetch someone. Figure another detective.”

One more step into the room and you felt it. The pressure in your chest, the pinch of pain in your side where you were still healing. As if crime in Gotham called to crime. A horrid likeness that permeated the air. When Henry said the scene was gruesome he wasn’t kidding. You were ready to bolt the second you could smell the blood—the sight nearly too much for your stomach to take.

“Fuck,” you murmured, eyes wide and body wracked with fear.

“It’s not easy to see.”

“He’s…oh fuck.”

You didn’t need words to know Martinez was concerned about you. His eyes told you enough. They lingered a bit too long, tried to see past your mask you quickly pulled up when it came to scenes such as this. If you were lucky you would make it out tonight without any nightmares.

You were rarely lucky.

Someone called his name, causing him to leave you alone in the room with a few other people. Yet all you could focus on was the Mayor. The message scrawled across his head screamed so loud you could practically hear the voice of the killer. It punched right through your chest, made you pay attention without any barriers. Without mercy.

“What the fuck?”

You turned when someone’s voice filtered through the air, disbelief clear in their tone. Perhaps they found something worse. Something that would make you want to unsee everything that happened tonight. But what came to your attention was not what you expected. Your heart dropped to your stomach, a flutter going through your body, as the sight of him filled your view once more.

For some reason he seemed bigger in the room. He towered over everyone here, eyes still striking against the dark color of his suit. For a moment you couldn’t breathe, nerves filling your body with each heavy thump of his boot against the hardwood floor. How he would react to seeing you again took over your mind. Yet you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe…he forgot about you.

Maybe to him you were just another lost soul in a sea of tragedy.

Someone he saved once and didn’t think twice about second.

He stopped midstep, gaze falling to your form, and for a split second…he stiffened entirely. Recognition flashed in his eyes before something darker took its place. You were reminded of the night he dragged you home, the night he held you as you cried about death. As you begged him to keep you alive.

You wondered if he was thinking about that too. If you stepped close enough maybe you could see it in his eyes. Fragments of a memory that still burned bright and alive in your mind—a bad movie you could never turn off. So there you sat in the theater. Forced to watch it replay.

Maybe if you asked he’d sit with you. Keep you company in the darkness.

“Daywalker.”

Gordon had a habit of using the formal version of your nickname. A call sign that seemed to jolt you from your own mind—eyes snapping from The Batman to the man standing beside him. He regarded you with a confused look. A question lingering on his tongue.

One you quickly overlapped with one of your own.

“What the hell happened Gordon?”

His eyes went soft. “Chaos.”

The pain in your side flared to life again. “And what’s he doing here?”

The thump of his boots echoed behind you as he circled the scene. No doubt taking notes about what happened, what was left behind for them to find. Gordon held up a green envelope, writing scratched into the paper as if it was left there in anger—the pen nearly breaking through. A formal address to the man who still remained behind you. A call out to The Batman himself.

Either this guy was insane…or he understood what The Bat would react to.

“So all this…was for him?”

Eyes burned into your skin when you said the words, another thump letting you know he still remained, still listening in the shadows of the room.

Gordon shrugged. “That’s what he’s here to find out.”

You nodded, stepping back to let Gordon do his job with the others as you surveyed the room yourself. Every once in a while your gaze fell back to him. How he stalked about with purpose, each step measured and calculated. He understood the tension in the room, how cops hated that he stood amongst them.

After all, he fell lower into their likeability category than you. To them you were the vulture, but he was the thief. He took their image—their reputations—and made it worse. He took their jobs right under their noses. Not because they couldn’t do it, but because with him it would come to a final end.

You caught bits and pieces of the conversations at hand, heard how the Mayor must have died, but your attention still remained with The Bat. How he stood wary with his back to the window. Every now and then you swore his gaze fell to you, but that might have been your imagination. Your mind hadn’t stopped racing since you stepped past the threshold; the crime scene doing nothing but wracking your body with fear and anxiety. Two things that were an enemy to a good reporter.

“Killer may have come through the skylight.”

You glanced up, eyes tracing the metal lines of the glass above and tried to imagine the scene playing out before you. How they’d get in, how they’d hide. In your head it matched up, but something felt off—as if the scene itself was too perfect. Too pristine for you to gather anything notable.

Gordon’s voice peaked your interest, drawing you closer. “What does a liar do when he’s dead?”

“There’s a cipher too.”

Something flickered in the back of your mind. You remembered Henry having a book of riddles on his desk. Some cheap Christmas gift someone in the office got him in the hopes of giving their boss a sense of humor. You had flipped through it once or twice while waiting for him to show up for a meeting. But you could recall the same riddle being printed with all the others—in a list of nearly three hundred, you remembered that one for its dark flair.

“Lies,” you murmured to yourself, attention forced to the outburst towards Gordon.

But it was the darker and much deeper voice behind you that sent a cold shiver down your spine. “He lies still.”

The answer to the riddle.

Yet even that didn’t tell you much. Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t going to give Gotham the easy way out. No, you could see the darkness lingering in the distance. The threat of something more on the way. And there wouldn’t a fucking thing anyone in this room could do about it. Except for him. His name was on the envelope, his sign in the sky and soon…Gotham would be turning to him for more than just an answer to a riddle.

“Happy fuckin’ Halloween,” the commissioner spat, turning away from the scene with enough anger to rival the killer. Grief plagued the air and while you should have stayed, asked for statements, all you wanted to do was go home.

So you bid Gordon goodnight with the promise to call him tomorrow for more than just this. Your stomach was in knots, bile filling the back of your throat, but you could barely move. His gaze still burned a hole in your back, watching as you left on semi-steady feet—the wound that lingered now a reminder that you were nearly this person. You were nearly another story in a newspaper.

Martinez came up beside you as you stepped out into the hall, a cup of hot coffee in his hands. He must have grabbed it from down the street, because he held his own. The rain still pounded outside striking loudly against the window but it had become a drowned out echo. Simply background noise to a tragedy that kept you locked tight in its grasp. You could see the headline of tomorrow’s paper. The words bold and loud amidst the gray color—a color that matched the sky.

GOTHAM MOURNS.

“Want me to give you a ride home?” Martinez asked, eyes still plagued with concern. You wanted to wipe it from his face, place his carefree smile back where it belonged. Except no one would be smiling tonight.

You sucked in a cold breath, sensing the presence of The Bat as he followed Gordon out to the hallway.

“Yeah. A ride would be nice.”

Tomorrow was a new day, but the truth still remained, waiting to break free. Darkness ran through Gotham so deep it would take prying the streets up to see it, but something told you exactly that would happen. This was not the end of the blood that would turn this city red.

It was only the beginning.

[stellisketches]

I think the fight between Aphmau and Garroth at the end of season 2 reads a lot better if you don’t look at it from a “who’s right and whose wrong” perspective and just absorb it as a natural consequence of the narrative.

These two had gone through the emotional ringer leading up to the confrontation, and one way or another something was bound blow over. As a side note, I don’t think either of them were that out of character during the scene either, which I’ve seen some people argue.

Two of Aphmau's main character flaws is that she a) wants everyone around her to be happy all the time and b) she forgets to consider the full consequences of her actions. Part B is obvious in this situation, and as for part A, she had plenty of chances to tell Garroth she was pregnant before the whole invasion but chose not to because she didn’t want to make him unhappy (this was confirmed by Katelyn). She’d honestly prefer to tell Garroth bad news when he’s already upset and make him feel worse rather than tell him when he was happy/content and interrupt the peace (though I doubt she’s consciously aware of it).

And we’ve seen that Garroth is fully capable of being cold and snapping when he’s upset, though he seems to reserve it for people he genuinely dislikes or is deeply upset with. We’ve just never seen him reach that point with Aphmau (arguably save for end of s1, but I still chock that up to magick-fuckery). Because she was the one person who kept him grounded, and he did not ever want for her to see him in an uncaring light.

Was it morally right of Garroth to yell at her after being told? No. Did he come off as manipulative when he questioned if she had ever cared about him? Yeah. Was he acting as though she betrayed him when he knew they were never officially together? Pretty much.

Was it understandable that Garroth would be outwardly upset after being told the woman he loves is having another man’s child after weeks of building stress? Yes. Directly after finding out his mother was about to be executed and his home had been laid to siege? Double yes. Was him questioning his entire relationship with her a natural, instinctual response after realizing she had kept it from him for a substantial amount of time? I’d say yes.

Was it morally wrong for Aphmau to sleep with Aaron? No. Was she obligated to tell anyone about her intimate relationships? No. Was she responsible for the way Garroth acted? No.

Was it incredibly stupid for her to have told Garroth right after he found out his mother was going to be executed? Yes. Should she have anticipated that it was probably a bad time to announce she was pregnant? Yes. Was Aphmau toeing the line at feeling sorry for herself and playing the victim in order to initiate sympathy from Garroth throughout that conversation? Personally, I’d say yes.

They both acted in a way that was manipulative, as is what happens when two people are upset and in conflict. You want the other person to feel a certain way, and you say and do things that aren’t necessarily fair in order to make them feel it. It’s not about right and wrong, its just about making yourself and your misery heard. It is natural, and nature does not have a moral compass.

I’ve seen a TON of arguments on a ton of different platforms arguing about whether it was Aphmau or Garroth who was being manipulative towards the other and it all totals up to be pretty 50-50, and tbh I think that is the best seal I can get for my claim. People usually side with whoever they think is most morally correct, and everyone has opinions and biases they’ve settled into that impact who they side with. With a score that even, you know it really comes down to a personal moral standpoint.

Thing is, this wasn’t a moral argument. it was simply a well of building emotions that hit its limit and flooded way over capacity.

It’s not about who deserved to get yelled at. It’s not about who deserved to get rejected. When it comes down to it, it is about two people at their own personal breaking points who spiral into reverberating their anguish on one another. They were neither entirely justified or condemnable for feeling the way they did or for the way they spoke to one another.

And that is why it makes it so frustrating and uncomfortable to the audience.

[ironunderstands]

About my Dr. Ratio + Aven content…

Steal it, I’m so serious right now steal it. I’ve made several posts people have received really well and I want to post them to other sites really badly but TikTok has made it so difficult for me and I straight up do not have the motivation to try out other sites. So if you have liked what I have written and want to share it elsewhere, do it, honestly you don’t even have to credit me, I think the ideas themselves matter more than my ego. Besides it’s not like I own hsr, other people can easily come to the conclusions I do. So if you have ever been like “hey I wanna share this elsewhere but it’s not mine”, go ahead, if even only one of you exists go ahead, you have my full permission. Ideas are meant to be shared anyways and I don’t want people to think that if they have reached the same conclusions I have on their own they suddenly can’t talk about it either.

Thief, steal and take what’s not yours because it’s yours now and I would be delighted if my sh1t was on other platforms, I’m just gonna have to suppress my brains desire for praise while doing so 😭

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Monday all :) Just realized we are over halfway done with s4. Crazy ha Naturally after an intense Chenford ep we have the next one be little lighter. Sadly they are missing 90 percent of this episode so it'll be a shorter one. But there is good moments of growth and such. Let’s get going.

4x13 Fight or Flight

Lucy is attached to Nolan’s helicopter kid situation. Which robs us of any Chenford in this episode. Thanks a lot Nolan…I could tell that kid was suspect af in the elevator and I’m not even a cop. John asks for Lucy to ride with him so he can get into this kids mind. It is awesome she is sought after for her psychological experience. We all know Nolan isn’t going to be able to do that…

We get a little crumb at the beginning of the episode. Tim was clearly waiting for her. I love how he instantly supports her. Doesn’t question why she’s helping or upset she is doing that instead of them riding together. Only that if she needs anything he is there for her. Little moments make my heart happy. So I shall take them in lighter eps.

We do get some good Tim and Angela moments which I will always be happy to enjoy. Tim runs into her and she tells him she has an old ‘friend’ of his in for questioning. He was pulled over and had a diamond bracelet in his car. It’s tied him to a home invasion that left 3 people dead. I do love getting a look into Tim’s work past and former arrests. Which ones are hang ups for him and such. She asks him if he’d like in on the interrogation?

Tim of course jumps right on it. Once he’s in the box Dez is deny deny deny about the bracelet. Saying he got it for his mother and lost the receipt. Ok buddy... Noting he was working the night the home invasion occurred. That his boss would confirm that for him. Watching Tim take charge in the interrogation is *fans self* Not to mention the bicep and forearm shots in this. Killing me softly sir.

Besides him looking fine af just sitting there I always enjoy watching him take charge in any capacity. .i.e. this moment. Why I love Metro Tim so much. It's sexy the way he walks over and commands his attention. Tries to connect with this guy. Knowing they have a past trying to use it to their advantage. Also him using words like recidivism getting me all hot and bothered. Idk why it just is LOL Anyways lets get back on track....Tim tells Dez he knows he wouldn’t have killed anyone. But they need his help to catch the people who did harm that family. They just need a name. He gives them the name of his lawyer instead. Wah wah

Seeing Lucy with Nolan it’s hard to believe they were ever matched up. Boggles the mind really. Just in how they’re approaching this situation alone. Lucy gets an ID for this kid from dispatch. His name is Leo Thomas. He's just a teenager. Nolan mentioning well adjusted kid’s don’t steal police helicopters. Lucy going on to say could just be teenager attention-seeking behavior. Trying to standout and establish their identity.

How it’s gotten so much worse with social media. She isn't wrong. I can only imagine. Its way more than when I was a teenager. Not to date myself but I only had myspace and facebook for most part and I didn't even use FB till like 2008 honestly. Oh and instagram. I think lol My point is as a millennial we didn't have the amount of platforms that are around now. It's insane. I can't imagine trying to establish an identity on them.

So Lucy saying social media having an impact on behavior is accurate. I believe that. It’s funny how John asked for Lucy to tag along and to get in the kids head. Then when she does he fights her on it a little. *eye roll* Also why am I not surprised he was a boring teenager? LMAO This doesn’t shock Lucy either. Him questioning her being a rebel. With the parents she had growing up? I have no doubt she was. You don’t know her like that John and it shows…

Nolan tries to connect with Leo now that he knows his name. John doing a big swing and a miss with him right off the bat. Trying to connect over now his family is sick with worry. Goes over like a lead ballon. He gets back on track with him though. Asking about learning to fly through video games? How impressive that is. Nolan starts to get some traction with the video game bonding. Leo begins to open up saying usually in a game how the main character survives through allies.

He asks John if he’s an ally? Lucy nodding her head fervently. Unreal how he needed to turn to Lucy for that answer. Do love her directing this whole thing though. What a downgrade from Tim eh Lucy? heh. Leo tells them they need to go on some quests first. Then they can talk about him landing this helicopter. John is skeptical to say the least.

Its why Nolan keeps biffing it with this kid. Honestly it’s a wonder he got put on this kid at all. Good thing Lucy is there to steer the ship. I love love love her being the leader on this. Look at our bad ass. Questioning his decision making skills and backing it with rock solid logic. Also sound psychology. You know the whole reason he brought her in the first place......

Nolan may have a good connection with people but he doesn’t have the logic and emotional intelligence Lucy does. John is ready to throw in the towel but Lucy isn’t. She crushes it with some damn good logic. Explaining why he should give into this kid and what he wants. It’s like he completely forgotten why he was assigned this kid in the first place. To build rapport and get him down on the ground. Good thing Lucy is there or this would be going so much worse.

He sends them on their first quest. To what looks like drug den. Saying he lost a raven haired girl he used to like from there from an OD. He couldn't save her but they can at least take down the monsters who caused her death. We find shortly after that was a lie. Since he has been home schooled for the last year. Nolan tries to get him to come down after one quest. Of course he doesn’t. It’s like John hasn’t caught on to the game here lol They ask for their next quest and he asks if they like alligators? HA

We return to Tim back at the station. He’s called in Dez’s boss to verify his ‘alibi’. At first he’s corroborating it until Tim says he’s suspected of triple murder. Tim dismantling Dez's alibi within minutes of meeting this man. I love it so much. His boss immediately amends his statement and says he paid him off. To clock him in and let him go and he did the same thing for tonight as well. Tim reports this back to Angela ASAP. That they don’t have time to wait for his lawyer. They have something far more pressing. Another target to locate. If they don’t figure out where that is more bodies are going to drop.

Lucy and Nolan are on their second quest. This part cracks me up. Dude they’re arresting is defending his alligator. Saying Cupcake is a sweetheart. Lucy’s reply cracks me up ‘Cupcake ate my taser’ LMFAO. His attachment to this creature is intense to say the least. The good thing about this second quest is there is a pattern though. Both quests have involved big drug arrests. Nolan tries to press the kid for it and nada. He continues on to tell them they’re going to have their final quest soon enough.

Tim shows up at Dez’s house mid-search. He instantly goes into sexy Sergeant mode. Asking Webb what they’re found so far? It would appear nothing at the moment. So Tim takes over the scene. I love watching him in action. So confident and sure of himself. While teaching in the process. Yum Yum. Sexy teacher Tim is in the house.

Just takes control of this search and makes it more efficient. He's so good at his job. Also he is growing as a Sergeant. Took control without fully taking control and doing it himself. He delegated his team to re-work their search pattern. Look at him go. So proud of him. Growing as a leader makes my heart happy to see.

We circle back to helicopter kid. They are slowly putting the pieces of the puzzle together. The guy they just arrested works with his mom’s BF. He's a known associate of his. It would appear they have a drug distribution chain going on. That one of the dealers they sell to was arrested and had to do with quest number one.

Lucy jumps in with her POV. This is why Nolan brought her along. Love watching her flex her psych brain. That muscle innate in her as she analyzes this situation. We finally find out why Leo took the helicopter. That quest #3 is to save his mother from her drug dealer BF. The problem is they don’t have any evidence linking this guy to what they’ve found today and he only has 40 minutes of fuel left…

We jump back to the house with Tim and his team. They still haven’t found anything linking Dez to the 2-11. Tim has an epiphany and calls in a bomb sniffing dog. Explaining that they look for ingredients for a bomb or gunpowder from an illegal firearm. That's what they need to implicate Dez. I will also take Tim Bradford talking to a dog all day long. Ovary explosion for me. *fans self* The way he roasts this dog for getting distracted by a squirrel LOL I’m dying I love this man so very much.

Thor eventually finds exactly what they’re looking for. Pawing at a spot Tim is able to crack open and find the evidence they need. Look at him listening to all past advice Grey gave. Not showing up to a scene early. When he does he delegates and doesn’t take over completely. While still teaching in the process of that delegating. He would be proud. Lucy too if she could see this.

Grey is able to get Murray to flip on Brian. Using cupcake Lmao it’s hilarious. Wants to make sure she’s taken care since she ate Lucy's taser. So he rolls on his partners including Brian. All for his alligator's well being it's too damn funny. Grey is delighted that’s all it took. Nolan and Lucy are able to complete quest number 3. They have him fly over his house so he can see them arresting Bryan. Telling him it is finally time to land that helicopter. He agrees and says he’s been air sick for hours ha They arrest him once he’s landed. Lucy looks so sad about it but they really don’t have a choice in the matter.

Tim returns to Angela with the evidence they needs against Dez. He flips once Tim has hard evidence against him. Gives them every job, every crew member and what they’re going to hit tonight. They catch up to the getaway driver fairly easily. It is fun to watch this bad ass duo work together. Question him easily about the men inside and what they’re walking into. Tells them three men are inside the house not including himself.

They find out 2 of the 3 are upstairs looting. While the third is hovering over the family with a gun. Angela doesn’t want to go in hot with this third guy. Worried he’ll hurt the family in retaliation. Tim tells her then they go in a different way. A way I very much approve of. Why you ask? We get Tim Bradford in a TIGHT white t-shirt. Pretending to be a delivery guy. Mmmm just look how taut that shirt is across his muscled chest.

Sweet baby James this man is fit. Could wash clothes on those washboard abs of his. Don’t get me started on the gun show that is his biceps. Popping out of those sleeves. We also get some nice forearm action as well in these shots. Nothing for me to analyze except his beautiful form in these gifs. Imma need some ice water. This man does things to me. *ahem* Let's get back to the story at hand...

Tim knocks on the door. Angela has the getaway drivers phone. So she texts the gun happy third guy it’s just food delivery. This gets him close to the door where they want him. Once he’s close enough they push through a flash bang grenade. Taking him out pretty quickly. Then we get to watch some poetry in motion.

Tim and Angela moving like badasses to secure the house. Just a couple besties taking down criminals like it’s nothing. These are some great shots of these two. I would like more Angela/Tim shots in s6. Just add that to my s6 wishlist haha Metro and the detectives working together be fun to watch. If I can’t have Chenford I’ll take Tim/Angela moments.

We started with a crumb and we get to end with a crumb. I love Tim being the one to initiate a drink after work. He’s grown so very much makes me wanna cry. We all know it’s because of his relationship with Lucy. Our hardened grumpy Tim while still grumpy has grown a lot. Look at him not only doing post work hang but making jokes. Saying it’s all on Nolan ha! Such a nice moment. Until Grey comes over and says Cupcake broke free from animal control LOL Angela's reply is the best 'Who's Cupcake?' So very confused haha

Not a lot of Chenford but good moments and growth none the less. Next episode will be a good one for them.

~~~

Side notes- non chenford

Well this entire episode was that haha I did enjoy Harper’s SL with Aaron and him trying to get that man justice. His reason why behind it and all as well. He develops very nicely as a character. I do love having him around a lot.

[planesky]

Some of my favourite underground music artists, part 3:

I won’t even say anything, just go now on whatever music platform you are using and listen to the EP “for those who suffer from melancholia” in order (do not shuffle) and thank me later.

Cesourius - Alternative

The voice of angels and fairy tales is her voice, her music feels like an elven wood in early morning, so calm and perfect. So I honestly cannot recommend enough cause she is so underrated.

Lily Williams - Acoustic Indie

Modern fairytales written by a ballerina, I know, it can only be either good or amazing, and it is. I honestly don’t know what else to think or say besides… It’s art. So go listen.

Mikayla Geier - Pop

Did you ever thought I wish the Beatles did the soundtrack to La La Land? Well, you should have. Because maybe they didn’t, but there is someone who created just this vibe.

Sid Simons - Rock

It took a really long while, I know, sorry about that… But here it is, we got it. Part 3. I don’t know when and if part three will come out but maybe…

@wannabefemalerage

Xoxo<3

[emilybahu]

I love 9-1-1 so much!

I have fallen in love with tv shows before, watching episodes religiously as they aired weekly. 9-1-1 has been different for me though, it’s become more like an obsession. In some ways that’s bad, it’s consuming my mind a lot of times and it’s distracting me from other things I need to get done. However, really getting into the fandom of this show has also been wonderful for me, it’s made me so happy, actually getting involved with other fans and talking to people the last couple months has been so fun! You all are amazing, funny, talented people and I’m truly grateful that I’ve been able to interact with you!

Now, I’ve heard about some toxicity within the fandom, Buddie and BuckTommy shippers turning against each other and fighting about what’s best for the characters. (Which btw, isn’t really up to us anyway)

I personally haven’t seen a lot of that, who knows, maybe I’m just ignoring it because I don’t want to see it. Either way I always try to keep a very open and and neutral stance when it comes to shipping. I let myself enjoy the stories, the edits, the fan art, and the speculation. However, I also try to stay grounded in the reality of what’s happening in the movie/book/tv show.

When it comes to 9-1-1 right now, between Buddie and BuckTommy I’m not picking sides. I like both ships the same, and I don’t think that’s gonna change any time soon. I really, really enjoy both ships! (Plus the fan fiction for both are amazing, so I’m LIVING)

Buddie is part of the reason that I started watching in the first place, Buck and Eddie are my favorite characters. I love them both to death, and regardless of their relationship status they have something special, no one can deny that! Their friendship is beautiful and deep, they do truly love each other, they’re family, they will always be there for each other whether or not they end up in a romantic relationship. I’m honestly just happy to see them together in any capacity. And yes, I will happy, overjoyed even, if they decide to make Buddie cannon, but I’ll also be happy if their relationship remains as it is.

As far as Buck and Tommy go I was surprised when the kiss happened, but OH MY GOD… I was totally there for it! I’m actually really happy with this storyline so far, (even if the second hand embarrassment nearly killed me during the first date)I think that they’ll be great together, I really can’t wait to see them getting to know each other more! Wherever this goes, I’m here for it! I’m excited to see Buck explore his bisexuality with Tommy, and learn about himself through this relationship. I’m also excited to learn more about Tommy! And if they don’t end up being very long term, I really hope that they stay friends.

I’m really enjoying being into a ship that’s canon for once, it makes me really happy. I don’t think there’s ever been a ship (apart from these ones) that I’ve been into that have even had a remote chance of becoming cannon (Stucky… my first love!)

Anyway, I digress, the writers and the actors KNOW these characters, we know that if something felt off it the story, they’d want to do right by the characters. We know for a fact how much Oliver and Ryan love Buck and Eddie, and if it feels right and true to them Buddie will happen. If it doesn’t feel right to put them in a romantic relationship, to me, it’s fine because regardless we have these two men with an absolutely beautiful and meaningful friendship, and I’m always here for that!

All of this to say, all this fighting about “who’s right for who” isn’t doing anyone any good. I mean we’re all in this fandom because we love this show RIGHT!? Being on platforms like this is meant to bring us TOGETHER!

SO WHY THE HELL ARE SOME OF US TRYING TO RIP EACH OTHER APART BECAUSE WE HAVE DIFFERENT OPINIONS ON A DAMN SHIP!?

Everyone is entitled to their own opinions after all… so yeah, share your opinion, just don’t be rude about it. Putting someone down because they disagree with you doesn’t make you right… it just makes you mean. It scares people away, maybe makes them feel like they’re not safe in this community. I’ve seen it a couple times too, with myself and others, being afraid to make a post because of the possibility of hate.

In my experience you’re meant to feel safe in a fandom, in a community because you’re sharing your love for something with others who love it just as much as you do! We should love each other like we love these characters!

To conclude, all I need is for our boys to be happy, that’s really all we should care about here anyway. It shouldn’t necessarily matter who’s dating who, as long as they’re HAPPY! I’m really just along for the ride, I’m here for whatever they decide to do with Buddie and/or BuckTommy in the future. Buck and Eddie are my loves, and we barely know Tommy, but I’m starting to like him already, as long as they’re happy, I am too!

Thank you for reading my TedTalk…

Sorry if it doesn’t sound completely coherent, stringing words together isn’t always my strong suit…🫠

[julietcpulet]

My Lady Jane and Show Cancellations

I miss the days where shows got more than one season to make an impression, even more than two sometimes. You could have a show with a launching first season that was good, a somewhat lukewarm second season that for people more invested and then a third that either launched it into a favorite or sealed that it would be cancelled. Could also just wrap up the story. We don’t get that now. Shows get short episode orders and no time to make an impression. That has to be stressful for the writers, directors and actors alike. There’s a tendency to rush plots and not give any time for things to breathe because you want to show that the material is worth hanging on and watching.

Really the binge culture of Netflix sort of started all this. Having all episodes at once made consumers less likely to want to wait for more seasons, longer resolutions to storylines, relationships and other parts of tv shows that used to be satisfying to wait for. We used to wait a week between episodes and it would create excitement. Will the couple get together by the end of the season? Will that murderer be found out? Will it all be happily ever after? But things are answered now mid-season and with only 6-10 episodes max vs the 24 we used to have so boredom can be a real thing for people with tv now. The payoff is sooner but then there’s no buildup back to a new reward for finishing the season. It’s a shame what streaming has sort of accomplished in making platforms cut shows sooner when they might find their audience with a second season. I wish they’d take that chance but for them it’s all a numbers game which is understandable to a degree, they’re in it to make money after all.

My Lady Jane is the latest fallout of this mentality. The showrunners left enough crumbs for a second season but they packed a lot of payoff in the first to get people interested. This may have made people feel there wasn’t anything else coming or those last glimpses in the final 5 minutes may have made people feel the reveals of a second season were already spoiled so there wasn’t much to watch in a next season. Also the platform may not have gotten the international numbers it wanted from viewership. It’s a shame but when they don’t do quick renewal this is usually the conclusion.

I’ll always be disappointed to see a promising show go but it’s the unfortunate pattern of living in a culture of streaming. Shows get one shot to make an impression and if the platform feels they don’t they’re quickly moved on from. I still think they’re worth enjoying anyway because the people behind them put a lot of work and passion into the show regardless of how long they last.

Thanks to the cast and crew for putting in the work to make the show loved by the audience. Sometimes even though these shows don’t go on for long they’re remembered the best because they were short and honestly that can be for the best. I’ve seen shows outstay their welcome, go on too long and ruin everything that made them great in the first place. In a strange way I’d rather say goodbye to a show I liked early while it’s good than have to quit watching it later because it becomes a wreck. Thanks for the fun My Lady Jane, it was a blast making silly little posts about this quirky show.

[oharasluverboy]

So I saw you were in need for some requests 👀 I was wondering if you could write like a lil Drabble of us taking care of Miguel but he’s like shy and embarrassed about it but really actually enjoying it, if that makes sense?

Time for a break. — miguel ohara x reader drabble..

dynamic + character: miguel x reader

summary: miguel refuses to take a break, so you make him.

content warning: nothing

small note: (thank you for the request! i hope it lives up to what you imagined.)

“alright, big boy, time for a break.” you announced, your hands near your mouth as you called up to miguel from his platform. his little..lab? more like a fuckin’ cave if anyone asked you. miguel didn’t respond. of course he didn’t! why would he?

“miguel.” you repeated, a bit irked at being ignored. “what?” miguel answered, the sound of his chair rolling up there. most likely moving about to switch from screen to screen, “i told you it’s time for a break,” miguel scoffed at the idea, you could practically picture him rolling his eyes. the mere idea of a break was funny, it really was. “uh-huh..” he hummed, amusement clear in his voice—but he wasn’t actually taking you serious.

“miguel, i’m serious, it’s time for you to take a break.” you said, sighing as you began to look around..for something to throw up there. you weren’t a spider person, just miguel’s partner, the only reason you were even allowed here is because of miguel’s constant need to know you’re safe. call it attachment issues, or him being overprotective..he honestly didn’t care.

“no no, i hear you, sweetheart.” another response to pacify you, at this point you were getting fed up. “y’know what?” you called up, looking around his lab—your eyes landing on a vial. looks like that’s what your throwing. “what?” he responded, flicking another screen to the side before opening the next one. miguel could hear you pad around his lab..slash, ‘office’. but he paid no actual mind to it.

that was until the sound of glass shattering on his platform, turning around from his spot hunched over. there’s no way—..”you did not just throw something like a toddler.” miguel stated, “hey, whatever makes you actually pay attention when i’m talking to you.” standing up from his seat, walking over to where shards of glass were scattered about. “you threw glass up here. what if it hit me? or worse, destroyed something up here.” he stressed to you, motioning to the glass on his platform while looking directly down at you from the ledge of the platform.

scolding you like a disappointed father, pointing at you then back at the glass. “who do you think is gonna clean this up?” he asked, “you. or some other spider.” you reply in turn, which was rewarded with his facial muscles twitching, his eyes narrowed down at you before he looked away. shaking his head sighing dramatically. what a fuckin’ drama queen you couldn’t help note, “break time.” you repeated. swinging your arms back and forth, obviously not taking whatever..this was serious. “break? you— i’m not taking no break. that’s final. i have work—“

“you either take a break or there’s gonna be a lot more glass.” you replied, “hey bro, it’s no skin off my back if you lose a couple of these…vials..? yeah yeah, these things.” you said shaking it in your hand. by now miguel would’ve just webbed your mouth shut, threw a couple webs around ur body, throw you into a portal and disable your watch—if you weren’t his partner. “you’re not going to start throwing things like an overgrown toddler, beautiful.” miguel replied, hands on his hips as he stared down at you, unamused as ever. “you don’t know that.”

“i bet you think you’re real funny, don’t you—“

“actually i am.” you cut in, “i’m really funny, the group chat tells me that everyday. sooo…break? if you tell me no i’m going to keep harassing you, miguel.” you stated, rather monotone. you never liked causing actual issues but miguel was hard head, never actually taking care of himself by getting a good nights rest, or eating on time. but was constantly lecturing you about your eating habits and staying up too later. rules for thee but not for me.

miguel and you held eye contact for a long moment..

“feeling better?” you asked, twisting your body to look at miguel. “will you stop moving? and yes, i feel..better.” you two were currently in the tub together, you had just finished washing miguel’s hair, you would’ve done more but he kept pinching you each time you tried to scrub him down.

you wanted to take care of him, make him feel good; give him a place to be soft and vulnerable, but it was extremely hard to get this overgrown baby to let down those walls. “well—that’s a start! i told you that you would feel better after a bath,” you smiled, so sweet that it made his teeth ache. “stop looking at me like that.”

“like what?” you asked, batting your eyelashes all innocent. “like that,” he replied, one of his hands moving to rest on the tubs ledge. “man. you’re no fun, you know that? like i know you’re fuckin’ old but holy shit,” you joked, both your hands cupping his face as you moved slightly to stabilize yourself as you began peppering kisses all over your man’s face. for the most part his frown stayed there, a little pouty sure. “okay, i get it. you love me—“ eating the words out his mouth as you kissed him directly on his lips, soft and gentle. before pulling away with a loud ‘MWAH!’

somehow, that’s what got him. miguel looked confused before a smile broke out on his lips, leaning down to give you another kiss. just as soft and gentle as the one you gave him. his arms moving around your waist as he pulled you closer, “you’re so stupid,” he murmured as his lips parted from yours, miguel’s forehead pressed to yours. “yeah, but you smiled. you want me sooo bad—so so so, so bad!” you teased, a sharp grin on your face as you watched his smile turn into a frown. “aww c’mon! i know you want me, don’t tell me you’re getting all shyy—.“

“do you have a fucking off button?”

— authors note; i did not beta read this my bad. hope you enjoyed. spread the love everybody.