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of-a-chaotic-mind · 4 months ago

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Hey Bartender

Summary: Reader thinks it's just another shift of bartending but instead meets a drunk golden retriever that sets her up with his best friend.

TW/CW: Eddie Diaz x Reader, Get Together

Requested?: No

Word Count: 4,087

A/N: I realized I always write reader as a fellow firefighter and wanted to try my hand at not doing that lol. You know I just had to add a drop of angst in there lmao. Anyways, hope you enjoy the read! Much love to all! Requests are Open!

--- Your POV ---

It's another Saturday night, and I'm expecting just as many jackasses as usual... Let me tell you, bartending pays well but damn does it suck ass. If I had a nickel for every time a douche bag hit on me, I wouldn't need to bartend, I could just live on my own private island. If I had a dollar for every decent man that ever hit on me, I'd be living on the streets if it weren’t for my weekly paychecks.

I drop my bag in the back office and head to the bar, throwing my hair up into a messy bun on the way. When I round the corner of the hallway out into the main area, I can see my coworkers Tiana and Grayson struggling to keep up. I slide through the swinging door with ease and begin taking orders. Soon, the chaos has died down some and I'm able to send Tiana home.

A rowdy bunch of college guys, that I see often, come in as she leaves. I raise my voice, "Hey! Don't come in here acting a fool, y'all know better." They sarcastically salute me or wave dramatically before making their way to their favorite table in the corner.

A tall, older, and muscular guy takes a seat on the stool in front of me, "You must be the boss lady around here," he states pointing back toward the college kids.

I scoff, "Might as well be but no. Our boss tends to only show up when it's slow. What can I get ya?"

The man laughs, "Two Jack and Coke, please."

I nod and turn around to reach for the Jack Daniels but find it exactly where I had repeatedly told Grayson not to put it, on the top shelf. Placing my hands on my hips, I turn toward my coworker, "Hey, dickhead!" He looks up immediately but I only point in the direction of the bottle I need. He grins with a laugh as he approaches me, grabs the bottle, and passes it down to me. As he returns to the customer, he was helping I gripe, "I swear you only do that to piss me off."

He looks at me, still wearing that stupid grin, "Yup, sure do!"

I roll my eyes and proceed to finish making my customer's Jack and Coke. When I set the glasses down in front of him, he admits, "If he wasn't making my gaydar go off, I'd be concerned."

I laugh, "Yes, Grayson is gay. He's basically my annoying little brother that enjoys making my life difficult."

The man laughs, "I'm Tommy," he points behind him, "The one waving his arms around like a crazy person is my lovely boyfriend, Evan."

I watch Evan animatedly tell his story for a beat before responding, "I'm (Y/N). What on earth is he talking about?"

Tommy shakes his head, "I don't really know. I love listening to him speak, don't get me wrong, but sometimes I zone out because I'm too focused on how pretty he is."

This makes me laugh extra hard, "I could see that."

Tommy pulls far more than enough cash out of his wallet to pay for the drinks and hands it to me, "Keep the change. See you around, (Y/N)."

I nod and watch him leave before jumping because Grayson speaks right in my ear, "He was cute!"

I shake my head, "He's gay and taken."

Grayson pouts, "Damn... A loss for us both I guess." I laugh and start cleaning up around the bar.

Sometime later, I notice something suspicious out of the corner of my eye. There's a gruff looking man leaning far too close to a girl who looks at least half his age. At first glance, I wouldn't even be sure she's old enough to drink but considering they card everyone at the door, she's at least 21 and this man looks to be in his late 40s or early 50s. She is very obviously uncomfortable and from the way her eyes dart around I can tell she's looking for an escape route.

I place my hand on Grayson's shoulder, still keeping an eye on her, "I'll be right back." He follows my line of sight and nods in understanding. As I pass the cooler on my way to her, I blindly grab a bottle of water. I step beside her, opposite the man, and place my hand on her shoulder and the water on the table in front of her, "Here's that water you ordered, sweetie."

"Aw, I just brought you a drink, Baby. You haven't even touched it yet. You don't need that water, do ya?" the subtleties his voice makes my skin crawl.

She avoids eye contact with him as she opens the water and takes a sip before looking me dead in the eyes, "Thank you. Could you point me to the bathroom, please?"

I nod, "Sure, I'll walk you there." She hops down from her stool and I put myself between her and the man.

I point in the direction we need to go but as she starts that way, the man grabs my right arm, "I think I can handle walking her to the bathroom. Besides, your coworker looks pretty busy over there."

I turn slowly to face him. I look down at where his hand is clamped around my right bicep and then back at his face, "I suggest you remove your hand from my body before I remove it from yours." By now everyone in the bar is zeroed in on us. I even notice Tommy, Evan, and a couple of their friends get up from their table.

His grip tightens, "I said," spits flecks across my face as he speaks through gritted teeth and with a menacing smile, "I can show her to the bathroom."

I wipe my face with my left hand, "Last chance, pal. You have three seconds." I give him a few seconds as promised before using my right hand to remove his hand from my arm, twisting it outwards with a small crack. Anger now replacing the smile on his face, he lunges at me but I drive the palm of my left hand straight into his nose.

He doubles over in pain, holding his nose as blood leaks through his fingers, "You bitch!"

I glare down at him, "That shit doesn't fly in my bar," I point to the bouncers, snap my fingers, and point down at the piece of shit at my feet. Already on standby, they immediately make their way through the crowd to collect him. I turn to check on the girl and escort her to the bathroom.

--- Third Person POV ---

Bobby and Athena meet the bouncers at the puddle of filth who is still writhing in pain, "My husband is just gonna make sure he doesn't need a stop at the hospital on his way to the police station," she says, as she flashes her badge. The bouncers take a step back to let Bobby work. Athena turns to speak to (Y/N) but finds her already heading toward the bathrooms with the girl.

Bobby stands and wipes his hands on a napkin, "Alright, Athena, to the slammer. As far as I can tell she just broke it. No serious damage."

Athena nods and looks toward the door where two officers enter. When they approach her, she explains what happened and gives them instructions. A few feet away, Buck leans toward Tommy, "I wonder where she learned to do that."

Wondering the same thing, Eddie looks over as Tommy answers, "She had an Army Sergeant's insignia tattooed on her wrist."

Eddie nods, "That'll do it."

Buck looks toward the bathrooms, "A badass, former Army Sergeant, who can take down a man twice her size...," he looks at Eddie, whose eyes are locked in the same direction, "You should get her number." Eddie rolls his eyes and soon the three are ushered back to the table by Athena and Bobby.

--- Your POV ---

As we arrive at the bathrooms, I wait with the girl in silence. When the door opens and another lady exits, she moves to enter before looking back at me, "Thank you."

I nod, "I'll be at the bar if you need me." She nods before entering the bathroom. I make my way back towards the bar and as soon as I round the corner, the college boys in the corner start whooping and hollering. The rest of the bar erupts to join them. I quickly return to the bar, grinning and shaking my head.

When the commotion dies down, one of the college kids loudly slurs out, "That, ladies and gentlemen, is why we don't fuck with (Y/N)." Many in the bar laugh before returning to their friends and drinks. Not too long later, I watch the girl meet a few friends at the door and make their way to a table. She smiles at me as she passes. I smile back.

I take and make a few more orders before letting Grayson know I'm taking a few minutes for a smoke break. After what feels like too short of a break, I'm checking notifications on my phone when I pass Grayson who grabs my shirt. I look at him in confusion, "What?"

He nods toward the other end of the bar where Evan is sat blowing bubbles into a fresh Jack and Coke, "said he wanted to ask you something."

Still bewildered, I make my way over to Evan, "What's up, Buttercup?"

He snaps his head up from his drink and grins at me before slurring out, "I was wondering if I could have your number," and is quick to add, "b-but not for me! I have a hot pilot boyfriend," the grin on his face gets even bigger, "I'm gonna give it to my friend Eddie who's been staring at you all night," he thinks for a split second, "He also seemed very disappointed when he saw you leave a little bit ago."

I laugh but before I can say a single word he goes on, "I came up here and asked your coworker if you were done for the night but he said you were just on break so I waited until you came back." He keeps rambling on and on as I grab a sticky note pad and pen from under the counter. I jot my name and number down. Normally, I wouldn't do this but these Evan and Tommy dudes seem decent so I figure their friend Eddie can't be too bad.

Evan is still going when I remove the note and press the sticky side to his forehead. He stops abruptly mid word, "Sweet! I'm Buck by the way." With that, it seems our conversation has come to an end as he gets up and returns to his table, not even removing the sticky note.

--- Third Person POV ---

Hen giggles, “I think the golden has retrieved something.”

Tommy follows her line of sight and notices Buck stumbling back toward the table with something attached to his forehead; question already locked and loaded for when he's in earshot, "Whatcha got there?" Buck stops and attempts to pose heroically which makes everyone giggle. Tommy reaches up with one hand to remove the note and pats the bench beside him with the other, prompting Buck to plop down and lay his head on Tommy's shoulder. Realizing what his boyfriend has done, he looks over to Eddie, "I believe this is for you," and hands him the note.

Confused, Eddie takes the paper and reads it before looking at Buck with a facial expression that reads, "Seriously?"

Buck grins proudly as Maddie nudges Eddie, "You so should text her."

Chimney grins, "Or if you're man enough you can call her." Eddie glares at him, very clearly annoyed. He looks down at the paper in his hands and thinks for a few seconds before nudging Tommy and Buck out of the booth. He ignores the excited gasps and "ooo"s that break out behind him and makes his way to the bar.

--- Your POV ---

I look up from the beer I'm pouring and notice one of Tommy and Buck's friends heading my direction. I top the beer off and hand it to the college kid in front of me just as the newcomer takes a seat to my left. He's staring straight ahead and hasn't said a word.

I wipe my hands off on a towel and grab a glass before crossing the short distance between us, "You're either a whiskey guy or a fruity cocktail guy. What'll it be?"

He smiles and tilts his head as he looks at me, "Whiskey, please."

I nod and turn around, aiming to grab the bottle of Jack I left on the other counter but find it has mysteriously moved back up to the top shelf. I whip my head in Grayson's direction but his back is turned to me. Placing my hands on my hips I glare up at the bottle. "Do you need me to-" Eddie tries to ask but instead I step up onto a shelf under the counter and climb up to stand on the granite, promptly procuring the bottle, "Guess not," I hear Eddie chuckle behind me as I scrunch up the towel on my shoulder and throw it at Grayson.

It nails him right in the back of the head, although not all very hard. He turns around grinning until he notices me still standing on the counter. An expression of fear almost crosses his features before he speaks, "Rodney will have your ass for standing on his counter," a teasing hint of humor in his tone.

I flip him off, "Rodney can suck a dick. I'd say you should too but you'd enjoy it too much," I punctuate my sentence by jumping down from the counter. Grayson doubles over in laughter as I turn back to my customer, who is also laughing his ass off.

As I pour the whiskey, I ask, "So, are you the Eddie that Buck mentioned?"

He looks back at the table where his friends are very clearly pretending to not be watching, minus Buck who is staring at us with his chin in his hands. He looks down at his whiskey, "Yeah," and takes a sip.

I tilt my head at him, "You don't seem too thrilled."

He makes eye contact with me, "To be honest, my heart is racing a mile a minute. I'm not like wasted or anything but uh," he looks back at the table and then at his glass, "I've got enough liquor in my system right now that when Chimney challenged that I wouldn't call you, I was like, 'Oh yeah? Watch this,'" he looks up at me again, "So, here I am with no clue what to say and possibly making a fool of myself."

I can't help but laugh, "I've had plenty of men make fools of themselves in front of me. I promise, you sir, are not one of them."

He smiles at this and is quiet for a few beats before asking, "Would it- would it be okay if I called you?"

I give him an "are you serious?" look, "Eddie, if it wasn't okay for you to call me, I wouldn't have given Buck my number." I swear I see him blush as he looks down at his glass again, nodding. I hear a customer call my name and grimace, "Give me a sec." He nods so I move to serve the customer and when I return to where Eddie was seated, he's back at the table with his friends. He's left cash on a napkin that has a note scribbled on it:

I'll call you tomorrow when I can actually form coherent sentences :) - Eddie P.S. Keep the change!

I smile softly to myself and look up toward their table to find him already looking my way. I wave and he returns the wave before I slip the napkin into my back pocket and move on to take some more orders on Grayson's end of the bar.

The next morning, or rather the next afternoon, when I roll out of bed I immediately reach for my phone. I find a text from an unknown number:

This is Tommy from the bar. Just in case Eddie loses the sticky note, I added your number into his phone. Figured I'd shoot you a text so you have his :)

I smile and lay my phone back down on the side table. My excited anticipation dwindles quickly as hours turn into days of not hearing from Eddie. I'm beginning to think he was just drunk that night and wasn't actually interested. One afternoon, as I'm getting ready for work, I glance at my phone for the millionth time hoping to see something from Eddie. No such luck... I open up the text conversation and my fingers hover over the keyboard trying to decide what to say. This isn't the first time I've done this in the past few days. Once again, I finally give up and shove my phone back in my pocket. I head to work with a pit in my stomach and disappointment heavy in my chest.

That evening, Grayson and all of my regulars notice how down I am and a few even try to cheer me up or be an ear to listen, including Grayson who hasn't stopped pestering me about it every chance he gets. "So, did things not work out with Lover Boy?" I brush him off and start wiping down the bar. "Come on, (Y/N). Talk to me," he sighs, "I know I'm a dick sometimes but I do care about you and I don't like seeing you so upset."

I take a deep breath as I toss the dirty towel into the laundry bin, "He never called. Never even texted either. And it's not because he lost my number, Tommy saved it into his phone for him." I can't hide the disappointment and hurt in my tone.

"Are you serious? Dude was absolutely entranced by you but doesn't bother to contact you?" Grayson asks, dumbfounded.

I shrug, heading for the cellar door, "I'm gonna restock. Holler if you need me."

He lets me go and as the door shuts behind me, I feel tears prickle against my eyes. Why am I about to cry over some dude I've only met once and only shared a few sentences with? Frustrated, I wipe my eyes and grab a few bottles that I know we need. Half way up the stairs, tears threaten to spill again. Sighing in defeat, I descend back down, place the bottles on a table, and drop to the floor against the wall with my head in my hands. This shit is why I don't let myself get hung up on guys anymore. The tears are flowing freely when I hear the cellar door open, "(Y/N)?"

Grayson sounds worried so I answer, "Yeah?" but my voice comes out weak and shaky.

I hear his footsteps descend the stairs rapidly before he drops to the floor beside me, "Hey, you okay?"

I look up from my hands and make eye contact, "I thought this one was different. I let myself hope. Now look at me, crying on the floor of a dusty ass cellar."

Grayson rubs my back comfortingly, "It's okay to cry, (Y/N)."

I drop my head back in my hands, "No it's not, not over a man I don't even know. I'm an independent woman who don't need no man. I shouldn't be this heart broken."

"First of all, yes, it's still okay to cry. Second, you may be independent but everyone needs somebody to love," Grayson says softly.

From the top of the stairs, a voice rings out, "Hey Grayson, quite a few people wanting drinks up here."

"We'll be up in a minute," he answers before pulling my face to look at him, "Get up, dust yourself off, and let's go have a good time, okay?"

I sigh deeply, "Okay," and wipe my tears. On our way up, I grab the bottles I had set down earlier and by the time we reach the top of the stairs, I've promised myself I won't shed another tear over this man unless he earns it.

Later that evening, I'm wiping down the bar again after a rush. In my peripheral, I notice someone take a seat and toss the towel away to tend to them. When I finally look over, my heart starts racing. It's Eddie. He's staring at his hands where he interlocked them on the bar top. I look around, hoping to pass him off to Grayson but find him helping other customers. I take a deep breath before smoothing out my shirt and walking over to Eddie.

"What can I get for you?" I ask, attempting to keep my tone friendly and even but it still shakes the slightest bit. His head shoots up and he makes direct eye contact with me. There's something in his eyes that makes me tilt my head.

He breaks eye contact and breaths deeply, looking back to his hands, "Listen, I- I'm sorry. I know I haven't called or texted. I tried to several times but I didn't know what to say. Buck says I was overthinking it too much but... I don't know, I just- I didn't wanna fuck it up."

A small smile touches my lips but I squash down the hope that's trying to breach the surface, "Eddie, a hello would've been sufficient."

He looks up at me and grimaces, "That's what Tommy said but I didn't wanna sound so- so casual I guess?"

Bewilderment replaces my smile, "What?"

He hesitates a second, "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I didn't want to sound so uninterested when you're all I've been able to think about for days. I also didn't want to sound too interested and scare you off... Which I may have just done anyways," he shakes his head in embarrassment as he looks back down at the bar top.

The grin on my face kind of hurts as I tuck my finger under his chin and lift it. His eyes have a touch of worry in them when they lock with mine, "I almost texted you several times too but didn't for the same exact reason." For some reason, I let myself get a little vulnerable, "I may or may not have cried a few hours ago because I was so disappointed that I didn't hear from you..."

I pull away as shock etches across his features, "I'm so sorry."

I shrug, "Forgiven, as long as you take me out on a date at some point and remember that my number exists in your phone."

He grins, nodding, "I will. When are you off work this week?"

I look up at the ceiling trying to remember, "All day Wednesday and Sunday and then until 3pm every other day."

When I look back at him, he smiles, "How does coffee sound Wednesday morning? 10am?"

I mirror his expression, "Sounds great!"

I can barely contain my excitement over the next few days and wake up before my alarm even goes off Wednesday morning after tossing and turning all night. I jolt up in bed, checking my phone in a panic, thinking I've slept through my alarm going off. Relief courses through my veins when I realize there's still an hour until it will. Excitement quickly floods that relief out of my system and I hop out of bed with a spring in my step.

Sometime later, as I enter the small outdoor café early but too excited to wait, I see Eddie threading his fingers through his hair at a table, having beat me there. I smile brightly and approach his table. He stands as soon as he sees me, pulls out my chair for me, and motions to the coffee in front of it, “I wasn’t sure how you like your coffee but if it’s wrong just let me know and I can order you something else.”

I giggle, take a sip and grin, “It’s perfect,” and as I look at him sitting across from me, knee bouncing and fingers fidgeting with his coffee cup I can’t help but think he’s perfect too.

More 911

Main Masterlist

#911 #911 show #911 imagine #911 imagines #eddie diaz #eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz imagines #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz x y/n #y/n

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farfromstrange · 9 months ago

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Interview With The Vampire | Vampire!Matt Murdock x F!Reader

-> Main Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire!Matt Murdock x F!Reader (she/her)

Summary: You are the first journalist to interview Hell’s Kitchen’s resident vampire vigilante after he requested you personally to tell his story. He’s offering you a way out of your miserable job—to make your voice be heard. You’re desperate and curious, so you decide to take the risk. Most people only know him as Daredevil, but you are about to learn who’s really behind the mask. How hard can it possibly be? As it turns out, interviewing a vampire is a lot more complex than you expected it to be, and Matthew Michael Murdock has set his mind on ruining you for any other man to come.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), alternative universe, blood play, marking, scent kink, slight Dom!Matt, unprotected p in v, oral f!receiving, biting, vampirism, angst, religious imagery & symbolism, Catholic guilt, mentions of violence, allusions to suicidal thoughts, lots of plot, age gap

Word Count: 12.2k (this is a beast)

Other Characters: Vampire!Elektra (mentioned), Ben Urich (mentioned)

A/n: I finally got this one edited. This is a beast, y’all! I drew inspiration from Anne Rice’s Interview With The Vampire, but particularly the 2022 AMC series (I fell in love with it then and there), but it’s not based on it, so I just played around with the idea and this came out. It’s a lot, but it wasn’t enough for a full-blown series, so you’re getting a big ass One Shot instead. I used my usual Smut tag list, but since this is slightly Dead Dove Do Not Eat, heed the warnings and proceed with care! Don't read it if you don't want to. Anyway, I hope you like it!

Read Me On AO3!

The sun has long set over the Big Apple. Artificial neon, cars, and ceiling lights burning in the highrises along the riverfront cancel out the darkness that has befallen the country’s east. Noise melts into a flood that rolls over people’s senses, but most in New York City have grown numb to the city that never sleeps.

Sirens follow cacophonies of screams. Teenagers get into clubs with their fake IDs, adults get drunk in bars or go to work the night shift at their underpaid jobs, and the other half cry themselves to sleep, knowing they will have to get up in the morning and go through the same hell all over again.

Life has become a miserable existence, and it leaves human beings wondering, ‘How much longer do we have to endure this before we all finally drop dead?’

The system fails them. The law fails to protect them. All they can do is lie down and wait to die. And they will die sooner or later. That’s inevitable.

In Hell’s Kitchen, in a penthouse with a view of the Hudson through colored windows that gloss over during the day and show the city throughout the night, resides someone who most of the city only knows by an alias—Daredevil.

If anyone crosses him, he will suck them dry. It’s not a metaphor, I’m afraid; his reputation precedes him. Criminals fear the red eyes that come with fists and a sharp set of teeth that will surely run them into the ground. The rest of the city feels a little safer with him, but so far, no one has dared to question his nature.

Fear is known to work as a paralytic. And this man living in the penthouse by the Hudson is the personification of what one might consider fear-inducing. Without the fear of others, he would not be thriving.

An apex predator like him lives for the thrill of the kill. When the adrenaline spikes, it makes the prey start running and the blood taste so much sweeter. It is to a creature of his kind what a good glass of century-old red wine would be to a human being; he savors every last drop of it.

Two years out of your Master’s degree at Columbia University, you have become one of those hard-working adults who fall into bed later than they should, and you lie awake at night, wondering how much longer you have to exist before you can live.

You interned at the Bulletin; you ran the true crime and mystery column for over a year before the newspaper shut down. A billionaire from downtown Manhattan bought it to start his own magazine, and you were the only employee he didn’t fire. Instead of relying on your top-tier education and experience though, he has banned you to the lifestyle and beauty column. He’s a beast if you have ever seen one.

On a Monday in June then, after the sun has risen and is now falling again, you find an envelope on your desk. You glide your fingers over the fancy paper. The letters are written in handwriting that resembles the old letters from the 18th century you had the pleasure of using as research material for your Bachelor’s thesis.

Your heart skips a beat. Could it be…

It is no secret that vampires exist.

Over two decades ago, scientists published papers on the existence of blood-sucking creatures after years of valuable research, and now governments around the world have set out to burn the inhuman species out before they can cause any more damage. Vampirism though is older than humanity itself and unless law enforcement has evidence of homicide, vampires have the right to exist amongst humans.

They are excellent at hiding their true nature, that much is true. The lore that has been passed down since the beginning of time is only partly true. They know how to adapt and rise from the ashes like elegant phoenixes. The misconceptions surrounding their existence stem from fiction, horror, and fear, but they persist.

And a rule has been established in society ever since the truth was revealed: don’t talk about vampires!

Don’t talk about them unless it’s in a fictional context. Don’t put your research out there. Don’t fraternize with them. Don’t risk becoming prey. Don’t be fascinated by them, and God forbid, don’t you dare write articles about them for the public records. If you want to know about vampires, you have to dig, and you have to do so quietly or society will deem you crazy and a freak.

The worst thing to be is not a flying android or a super soldier with a shield; the worst thing you can be, in this day and age, is a vampire.

You were a curious child who turned into an even more curious adult. At times even a bitter one because she couldn’t get the answers she yearned for and had to do it herself. So, of course, the We Don’t Talk About Vampires rule came across as rather absurd, learning about it back when you were merely a teen.

You started researching, and you found out more than you thought you would—more than you thought you could. You wanted to cover the issue in the Bulletin back when you still worked there, but since humans were raised to fear the very mention of vampires in the real world, no longer romanticizing the concept but rather running from it, the truth shall remain hidden. Again, that seemed absurd, but you had to accept it to get ahead.

You kept researching to the point you convinced yourself you could be one of them if you tried. You felt like you understood them, but nothing could ever fully answer all of your questions to the point it felt truthful. Honest. Real.

Growing up, everyone told you dead things aren’t supposed to walk. They aren’t supposed to breathe and exist among the living. They are cruel, and vampires are killers that leave trails of bodies the government is hiding from us. Greediness exceeds common sense. The human mind tends to get sick and twisted, and those who don’t fit in hardly ever stand a chance.

Hell’s Kitchen is particularly quiet on the issue. Rumor has it that the vigilante chasing criminals at night and leaving the worst of them dry at the shore of the Hudson while, at the same time, surrendering those he deems worthy of rehabilitation to the authorities, is one of those vampires.

They call him Daredevil; the savior of innocents and the downfall of the vile. Only a handful of people know who he is. The truth is caught in a spider web of lies, unable to come out unless someone were to tell his story for the world to hear.

That Monday in June when you open the mysterious envelope on your desk, everything changes.

He addressed you personally. Your name resembles a masterpiece, the letters swirling at the edges.

You don’t know me, but I know you.

It’s strange to read your name out of the mouth of a stranger.

I must admit, Miss, I’m a big fan of your writing. And I’m not talking about the lifestyle and beauty column Mr. Doherty of the ‘Silver Lining’ has confined you to.

No, I am a big fan of the work you used to do for the New York Bulletin. I remember your name headlining many articles on crime here in Hell’s Kitchen—a column my late friend Ben Urich used to call his home.

It’s a shame that the paper was shut down. I tried to prevent it, but the disappearance of half of humanity and Wilson Fisk’s irreparable damage to the city’s foundation tied my hands.

The token female journalist reporting on unsolicited beauty advice and lifestyle choices no one is going to follow in the days of social media and fake marketing. It must be frustrating, right? Not having a story to tell. Not getting recognized for your impeccable talent. The Bulletin gave you a platform, but Mr. Doherty and his goons took that away from you.

What I’m asking myself is, are you satisfied? You were probably imagining a different future for yourself. A woman of your caliber must want to be more than a mere object used to make a bottomless magazine look better on the market.

Excuse my overstepping. I read one of your essays on the magical and the mythic—lore versus reality—the other day, and it inspired me. My life has been taking quite a few turns lately, so I required some new… let’s call it insight.

You don’t know me, but I am one of those creatures you are fascinated by. I’m the kind of creature people have been telling you not to write about because the weak minds of the public would not receive it well. The Catholics, the church, the fragile and fearful human beings that can’t imagine anything in fiction being real and want to remain the superior species—trust me, I know what it feels like to be backed into a corner. To be abandoned. To be underestimated. Not quite like you, I admit, but I have a few years of experience in and with this world to show for myself.

I imagine you’re tired of your position. I imagine you’re dissatisfied with human idiocy. You crave answers to your questions. Questions you have been asking yourself ever since college failed to answer them. My kind is being censored—partly for good reason—but that doesn’t sit right with you, does it? To live life in a monotone line with no clear way out of this boring rhythm you have had to fall into?

I can offer you a different path. A story. Answers to your questions. And the unfiltered truth of a 242-year-old man.

You are going to find a card with my address attached to this letter. I can assure you, sweetheart, we both want the same thing. I will wash your hands if you wash mine. Think about it, and come find me when you have made your decision. Preferably after the sun has set.

Yours sincerely,

The paper crumbles in your hands, but only at the corners. Your eyes are glued to the lost drops of ink, the blue blood of an old fountain pen caving under too much pressure.

He chose his words carefully. Every paragraph circles around your head. You breathe in, and it suddenly feels as though the whiff of the unknown is an inhalable drug, twisting your brain inside out.

The pull threatens to submerge you in a stormy ocean. You’re flailing your arms around helplessly, but there is nothing for you to hold onto. All buoys have drifted into oblivion, leaving a sea of utter emptiness behind, and in the midst of it, there you are, drowning.

In a moment of clarity, you fold the letter back down on the desk. It lands with a thud, and you look around frantically, checking if anyone is watching you. They aren’t.

M. That’s all he’s giving you. And the fact he is over two hundred years old proves the rumors to be true. He’s standing by it, but only to you. He wants to reveal himself to you, show you his true face for a story, but he’s a vampire.

You’re alone. You can wash his hands, but is just showing up enough for him? You don’t even know him.

You’re in trouble. This time though, you didn’t even do anything. You did your job, and he caught an interest in you. How does that work?

Your heart skips another beat. It should not, but it does. The danger is exciting. It shouldn't be exciting. You hate what your body is doing, but how can you make it stop? You can’t. You can’t do anything but take it.

This stranger has got you in a chokehold, but in his hands, you might as well surrender to your certain demise. You don’t consider vampires inherently evil, but there is a reason people warn you not to walk alone at night in Hell’s Kitchen. He’s dangerous, no matter his nature, and he is not supposed to lure you in the way he does.

But you’re a curious kitten, and he is offering you the holy grail of answers to questions you have been grappling with for years. He hit the nail right on the head. And it doesn’t even scare you how well he knows you.

This is a gold mine. Realistically speaking, telling a vampire’s story could make or break your career as a journalist. If you do it for the magazine, you’re done before you can even bring your words to print, but if you do it individually and you do it well, people will certainly eat it up. The question is just, are you going to play your entire life safe, conforming to your boss’s view of you until you get the freedom you crave, or are you going to take the risk and fly?

The answer is as clear as day, but it takes you a moment to process. It’s as though someone is in your head, steering you in the direction of whoever this M is. Daredevil. This vampire who wants you to interview him, and for what? That’s still an open question you don’t have the answer to. But you do know what to do.

You scramble for your laptop, your notepad, and the letter in the envelope. The clock strikes four. You have another two hours on the clock, but you can’t be bothered to stay.

Upon hearing the sound of your shoes hurriedly scraping against the linoleum floors, one of your colleagues turns in her chair. “Where are you going?” she asks.

“I, uh, have somewhere to be,” you tell her as you brush past her.

“What, now?”

“Yeah. I forgot I had an appointment.”

“What about Mr. Doherty?”

You stop on your way out, looking back over your shoulder. “If everything works out,” you say, glancing through the window to his office at the other end of the hall, “He’ll have my letter of resignation by the end of the week.”

She gasps softly. “You’re quitting?” her voice is barely above a whisper.

Almost sinisterly, you chuckle. “That’s the plan, yeah.”

“But—”

“Tell your daughter Happy Birthday from me. I gotta go.”

Your steps echo for minutes still, but you are long gone with the wind.

Silver linings are considered an advantage that comes from an unpleasant situation. The name has proven to be entirely unfit for the magazine that replaced a big piece of Hell’s Kitchen’s history. The Bulletin had cultural value as much as it was laden with decades of the city’s stories told to the average person.

Wilson Fisk was the dynamite that sent New York alight. The Bulletin’s destruction was mere collateral damage in the fight to get the city back on track. You have had so many reasons to leave presented to you, yet you never took them. If you had, maybe you wouldn’t be here, making bad decisions on what started as just another Monday in June.

The fact is though, you didn’t leave, and you are here now. Facts are what matter. They count. Your hypothetical past, present, and future have no place in this reality because you can’t travel back or forward in time. Vampires may exist, and the Avengers time-traveled to save the world, but things aren’t quite as easy once you look at the bigger picture. You are not a superhero, you’re just a journalist chasing the kind of story that will finally make her voice be heard.

You know that Ben Urich, at least, would be proud of you.

His address weighs heavy on the small card you pulled out of the envelope earlier that evening. You passed it on to the cab driver, and he began to navigate the dark streets of Hell’s Kitchen. The luxury condominiums in this part of the city can be counted on one hand. You know exactly when you’re there.

The sun has once again set over New York City. You’re wide awake, not quite sure though if you’re ready to face what you are walking blindly into. Even your driver refuses to take you past a certain point, and that is how you know that you’re not dreaming. This is real, and it’s supposed to be terrifying.

How come you’re not scared then?

You slip twenty dollars to the cab driver, then climb out of the backseat. The salty air from the Hudson River a few blocks down wafts around your sensitive nose. In the distance, you can hear waves crashing into the docks as the wind picks up in speed. The boats must be moving wildly by now, swaying from side to side and possibly even making the fish in the depths of the water seasick. You would be if you were them.

With every step, you grow closer to your target. On second thought, maybe you should have brought more than just a pathetic bottle of pepper spray and your precious laptop. You could have brought your grandfather’s cassette recorder, at least that would leave a mark if you hit someone over the head with it.

Do vampires get concussions? That is another question you can add to the seemingly endless list in your mind. It’s a confusing place as of late, and the weird sense that someone is playing with the controls won’t leave you alone. Either you are overthinking, or you are worse off than you originally thought.

The apartment complex the card directs you to stretches high above you. You look up, seeing not a single light on. That’s odd, you think, but then again, you are meeting with the city’s most notorious man. If he is who everyone says he is, and if the rumors are even true, that is.

As you are about to approach the entrance, your fingertips start to burn. A gasp escapes past your lips. Staring down, the cubical piece of paper goes up in flames. You are mere feet from the door, nowhere near close to an open source of fire, and the card starts to burn like a wildfire.

You pull back, your heart hammering against your ribcage. The ashes fall to the ground, but before they can hit the asphalt, they vanish.

“What the–” before you can finish, the doors before you swing open toward the inside. The lights turn on. Someone even has called the elevator for you.

Another step forward, and a voice stops you. “Fourth floor, down the hallway, first door to your right,” the voice says through the speaker. Only then do you notice the lack of a doorbell.

Everything in you is screaming for you to run, but you are rooted in the spot. He dragged you here with a mere letter, and you were more than ready to jump. Desperation was the only thing that drove you here. Your brain seems incapable of rational thought.

What if that is what he wanted all along? To get you complicit by playing on what you so desperately need, which is a story and a way out of this boring everyday life that is threatening to slowly kill you.

He’s like a siren, luring you into his deadly trap, but even knowing all of this, you still can’t find it in yourself to run.

The second you enter the building, the door shuts behind you, and your only way out is officially locked. You made the decision; you have dug your own grave, possibly quite literally, and now you have to lie in it. It’s better to die chasing a good story than dying at a desk in an office that doesn’t respect you.

You are a disgrace, you can hear your father’s voice in the back of your mind. He always warned you not to be too reckless or your bad decisions will eventually catch up with you. He always taught you not to trust strangers, and to stay the hell away from those who disgrace God, but you have never cared much about being a good girl.

Your thoughts are as morbid as your obsession with the walking undead. It is time you embrace what people are already saying about you.

The elevator ride feels like an eternity. It goes up and up and up until it finally stops on the fourth floor. The walls smell like nothing but a faint hint of bleach. It’s clean, parquette not carpet, and the walls are kept in a shade resembling a mixture between crimson and maroon, and it is blending into a sort of marble.

The metal doors slide open. Again, you hesitate. A sweet whisper echoes in your ear, dragging you toward the edge. You breach the border between the elevator and the hallway that waits behind it. The voice is distant, and it doesn’t sound human—it reminds you of a siren’s song, calling for you. He is calling for you, and a fog settles over your mind. You’re not in control anymore, he is.

You imagine him to be an old man, possibly middle-aged. Vampires stop aging when they’re turned. Their mind doesn’t. You’ve read the research plenty. They are wise beings, more intelligent than human beings could ever fathom. That makes them dangerous.

Their venom rivals the intoxicating feeling of heroin, you’ve heard, and it heightens your senses to the point all you can feel is the one who bit you. Research suggests it’s a million times stronger than an orgasm, for both the vampire and the human being.

Part of you has always wanted to try it. Part of you wants to know what it feels like to be sucked dry. You want to know what it feels like to be carried into a new dimension by someone who knows how to play the human body like a fucking piano, eliciting the sweetest melody through your very essence and the symphony of your moans.

This M—Daredevil—is inherently dangerous. He’s as mysterious as they come; a man in a mask lurking in the dark corners of Hell’s Kitchen every night, turning the fight for justice into his hunting ground.

It’s as though he curled his fingers, and you followed.

You walk the dark hallway down to the door on the right. Paintings litter the walls. Masterpieces, blotches of white, red, and color. You recognize the red marble as a decorative theme on the wallpaper. Tracing your fingers over it, the rough drywall scratches at your skin.

You reach out a shaky hand toward the golden knob. Before you can turn it though, the door already flings open. It must be witchcraft.

Red appears to be his favorite color. At least judging from the hallway, that is true. When you step into the room with a pounding heart and blood pooling in your cheeks though, the inside of the room is a lot more… human. You wouldn’t have guessed it from the gloominess surrounding you on your way there.

A leather couch and armchairs stand in the middle, facing toward the window front. Colored windows, as you have gathered from the rumors. They are see-through now though, showing the city skyline and the moon up high. The chandelier on the ceiling is the only piece of furniture you would consider old. Browns meet hues of blue and dark green, a forest at midnight, and you suck in a sharp breath. The apartment is beautiful.

You look to your left and see a bookshelf stretching the length of the wall. You can’t help but run your hand over the backs. You would have expected original editions from the 18th or 19th century, but when your fingers trace over the bindings, you are met with the bulging of Braille underneath the elegant golden writing of the titles. None of them seem to have collected dust. It surprises you to only find a mere handful of classics that haven’t been transcribed in Braille and a realization you did not expect starts to crawl its way forward.

“I stole that one from a library in Paris.”

Your racing heart stops beating. The book you’ve been holding falls to the ground, its worn-out leather cracking further around the spine. The thud is deafening. You gasp, turning around. Your shoulders fly up as the tension ripples through every last muscle in your bone. Your bones ache just from how stiff you’re standing, but you can’t move.

The man before you moves as quietly as a mouse. You didn’t hear him coming. The moonlight reflects off his dark brown hair, making it appear almost ginger. He’s wearing a simple suit without a tie, and the white of his shirt is as pristine and clean as the cut of his beard. You can see chest hair poking out from underneath the two open buttons, as dark as the locks on his head. His jawline is irresistibly sharp, leading up to a pair of plump lips he is wrapping around the brim of a crystal glass filled with rum.

Your heart remains frozen. Not a single drop of blood pumps through your veins, yet your cheeks burn brighter than a bonfire on a pitch-black night.

But his flawless appearance is not what catches your attention the most. Looking up into his eyes, wanting to know whether they are as red as those set into the devil’s mask, you find nothing but your terrified reflection staring back at you. It’s as blurry as the picture of your face in a still ocean’s water, your wide eyes staring back at yourself.

The red glasses are all you can see. Round with a black rim. Silver would have looked better on him, or maybe even gold. The black reminds you of an endless pit, a sinister embrace of vampire stereotypes, but you can’t look away from the maroon that won’t allow you even a glimpse into his eyes. They are shielding him from the world, and his eyes from curious, stupid humans like you.

He nods toward the ground. “You gonna pick that up?” he asks. His voice reminds you of rumbling gravel.

He looks like a man. He talks like a man. If you didn’t know better, you would say he is human. There seems to be blood in his cheeks and air in his lungs.

You have to pull yourself together. Clearing your throat, you bend down and pick the book back up.

“Thank you,” he utters your name. “It’s been a while since I’ve received visitors that don’t work for me.”

You put the book back on the shelf. Your lips are sewn shut; you can’t find the words. Every time you open your mouth like a fish on dry land, you close it again, and it is embarrassing to be standing in front of him with your guard down.

“Welcome to my home,” he says. You wish you could see his eyes to know if he’s mocking you. “Do you want a drink, or do you need another minute to process?”

He is mocking you. His tone is gentle, as is his voice, but he smirks like a smug motherfucker, and your anger boils to a tipping point. The candle is about to burn out.

“I–” you stammer. Internally, you curse yourself for being such a fool.

“Another minute it is then.”

You don’t need a minute though. “You’re blind,” you blurt out.

The beautiful—deadly—stranger nods. “Yeah.“

“How?”

“Accident when I was a kid.”

“But you’re…” you leave the missing part of that sentence hanging in the air like a noose.

“Say it,” he murmurs. You want to say it sounds like a growl, but you’re not sure. He isn’t asserting dominance or trying to force you into submission by scaring you away, but he is toying with you regardless.

You take a deep breath. The word, the truth, numbers your tongue and your lips with its weight. “A vampire,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, matching his.

His smirk broadens. He pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek for a moment, then releases it as it darts out to wet his bottom lip. “I’m a blind vampire, yes,” he answers. “We’re rare, but we do exist.”

Blind vampires. In all of your years of fascination, that has never crossed your mind. You used to believe that they had healing abilities that far exceeded your own. You were wrong. He lost his eyesight before he got turned into a vampire. He lived as a blind human being and didn’t regain his most crucial sense when he died.

He came back to life, but he died. It is surreal to stand across from him. He’s not just letters on a piece of paper, he is very much real. And he’s blind.

“Oh, my God,” you curse.

That elicits a soft chuckle from him. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t come,” he says.

“I was considering not to.”

He sees right through you with those empty glasses. “That’s a lie.”

“How would you know?” you counter.

“I can hear your heartbeat. The blood pumping in your veins…” His head tilts ever so slightly in your direction. You take a step back. It’s an instinct. “Your pulse picks up when you lie, or when you’re nervous, or both,” he states. “When you first saw me, your heart skipped a beat. It did again when you lied to me.”

Your eyes trail down to his thick thighs perfectly fitted in his tailored trousers. His thick digits pat the rhythm with his fingers on the fabric. Thud-thudthudthud-thud. You place a hand on your chest. He wasn’t wrong; your heart is racing.

His smirk turns into a smile, but only briefly again. It’s a glimpse of humanity he doesn’t want you to see. “I like that sound,” he says. “Has anyone ever told you that you smell good? Sweet, sour, and a little salty. Natural. You don’t use a lot of artificial perfume, but you like cherry chapstick.”

You swallow, taking a whiff of your arm. Besides your deodorant masking the scent of your nervous sweat, you smell nothing. How good must his nose be? His hearing? His sense of taste?

“Right now, sweat is dripping down your back, and your muscles are tense enough to strain against your bones every time you breathe. Your heart just skipped a beat again. You find it weird,” he muses. “I can’t turn it off, but I get it must be strange for you.”

“You–” The blood has collected in your head, pushing the temperature in the room to an all-time high. “Get out of my body!” you snap.

He laughs. “That’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear.”

“And I never thought you would ask for an audience with me, but here we are.”

“Here you are.”

You want nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face. He looks so smug, standing there with his drink, wearing a suit too fancy for his own home. He’s fully in his element. It’s scary how alluring he is, too. You don’t want to think that way, but as soon as your eyes gaze upon him again, your chest contracts, and you forget how to breathe.

He’s a wolf, and you’re a lonely little sheep that doesn’t know any better. That lonely little sheep just wants to be a part of something bigger, even if that means surrendering herself to the big bad wolf. He wants a taste of her, and the sheep would give him that in a heartbeat if he just asked.

You blink. There is a voice in your head, and it isn’t your own. Far from it. You don’t want to be associated with this stranger. She thinks she knows you. She thinks she knows what you want—the sheep in the eyes of her natural enemy. This voice is the most irrational you could be, and you need to stop letting her win.

And yet you—not just the voice of the lonely sheep you appear to be—would follow this man anywhere, even to hell if he asked you to.

Your eyes drill knives into his skull, but they are also full of curiosity. Can he hear your thoughts? Your heart beats in your throat. You can taste it on your tongue. If you bit your lip, you would bleed, and he would probably fall into a frenzy. Still, your teeth dig into your bottom lip. What if he can hear your thoughts—hear how fucking needy you are? You’re pathetic. What he must think of you, standing across from him, smaller than human life itself.

You want to read him, but he is far from an open book. He’s not Braille you can run your fingers over, and even if he was, you don’t know how to read it. He’s an enigma. His face is set in stone; an iron mask you can’t penetrate.

His chest heaves with another chuckle. He sets the crystal glass down on the coffee table, taking a step forward. “No, I can’t read your mind,” he says.

You flinch. “What?”

“Your breathing pattern. The way you look at me. I can sense that you’re thinking about something.” He adjusts his glasses. “It’s just… Most humans ask me if I can read their minds, you know. I can’t. Some vampires can, but my senses are the only heightened ability I have.” This time, when he chuckles, a hint of bitterness dances in his voice.

“At least you’re not in my head then,” you say.

“No.”

“Good.”

A pregnant pause follows. You clutch your bag to your chest, your fingers digging into the frame of your hidden laptop.

“Can I offer you a drink?” he asks, pointing to his empty glass.

You wave him off. That’s the last thing on your mind. “No, thank you.”

Sometimes at night, you fantasize about diving into the abyss of darkness. It looks and sounds a terrifying lot like him. You want to know him. You need to know him. When it comes to him and this—whatever this is—the lines between want and need are blurring into an unidentifiable mess. It’s an ocean of emotions with no land in sight. A total eclipse of the heart, if you will. You’re losing your mind.

“What you can do–” You straighten your shoulder, hoping it will add height to your beaten confidence. “You can tell me your name. Sir,” you say.

He nods. “I suppose it would only be fair, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, it would.”

“Matthew. My name’s Matthew.” The softness of his features as his lips move to the rhythm of his words takes you back anew. His eyebrows raise slightly, and you catch a glimpse of a pair of beautiful, unfocused hazel eyes that steal your breath away.

Matthew. It is a name that easily rolls off the tongue. It suits him.

You repeat his name aloud. “That’s an odd name for a 200-something-year-old man,” you point out.

Matthew scoffs. “My parents were both Catholic.”

“I suppose you’re not?”

You hit a sore spot. His head dips, fingers running over his nails and tongue tracing his teeth. “Not anymore,” he says.

God died for him a long time ago, and all churches burned down.

Your grip on your bag loosens. “Then why Daredevil?” you ask.

His lips part. “I, uh, have the Bulletin to thank for that one. After centuries of existing in this world, and being despised for no matter what I do, I’ve decided to embrace it. I am Daredevil, not even God can stop that now.”

Matt grabs his glass, turning away from you. He doesn’t use a cane to navigate from the couch to the mini bar on the other end of the room. You carefully follow his movements. One of his hands remains at his side, snapping his fingers as he navigates the familiar terrain of his home.

He uncaps a half-empty bottle of Whiskey to pour himself another glass.

“You know, Matthew,” you prompt, daring to step forward an inch, “as big as your reputation is in this part of the city, Silver Lining is not the kind of magazine that would cover your story.”

“You still came,” he says.

“I could lose my job if anyone knew I came here.”

“And yet you’re here and not where you should be.” He turns his head over his shoulder. “You wouldn’t risk losing your job if it wasn’t important to you, would you?”

You stammer, “I–” He’s got you. You’re a fish with a hook in her mouth.

“If Silver Lining Magazine won’t cover my story, why are you here?” Matt turns back to you, leaning back against the shiny Mahagoni of his minibar. It offers a beautiful contrast to his strong physique and the slight paleness of his skin. “Could it be because you’re fascinated by the mythic?” he asks, teasing. “By werewolves and witches and vampires?”

It’s your turn to scoff. “I won’t confirm or deny. My boss wouldn’t let me write a vampire vigilante exposé even if I begged him to.”

“And that’s why Mr. Doherty doesn’t deserve you.” Your body visibly recoils when he pushes forward, moving just an inch toward you. “Your curiosity is a virtue,” he purrs. The moonlight sets your reflection in his glasses alight.

“Is that why you lured me here?” you ask him. “Because my curiosity is a virtue and you consider yourself better than the people in my life?”

“I didn’t lure you here, and I think you know that. That’s not what this is.” The distance between you starts to shrink, backing you into a corner. “I believe you came here because the thought of interviewing a vampire and sharing your findings with the world on your account excites you,” he says. “You want to be heard. You want to be taken seriously as a journalist, and you want to make people happy.”

The only way for you to come out of this with your pride and dignity still intact is to put up walls before the already existent labyrinth of walls keeping your heart guarded and your soul safe. “Again,” you ask, “why me?”

“Why not you? As I stated in my letter, I’m a fan of your work.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, about that. How did you write that if you’re blind?”

“I didn’t, my secretary did.”

“Of course.” Of course, he has a secretary. “I… I just don’t get it,” you say. “You’ve been hiding for so long–”

Matt cuts you off with an urgency you didn’t expect, “Things have changed. Circumstances…” he trails off.

“Wouldn’t it be a suicide mission?”

His answer is silence. You let out an exasperated sigh. “If you want me to interview you, you have to be honest with me.”

“I’m not on the record yet.”

“Right. Maybe you can answer this though—off the record, of course—how can you be certain I didn’t call the cops or the FBI before I came here?”

His eyes crinkle. “I’m not stupid, sweetheart,” he says.

He’s amused. You’re amusing him.

“Don’t call me that,” you growl.

He’s spreading you open, holding up a mirror for you to look into. It’s your miserable self in all its glory, and he knows you better than you know yourself.

You ignore the sharp pain in your left ribcage as you pull the arrow out of your heart. “Unless someone holds up a sign that they are pro-vampirism, how would you even know I’d listen to you and not just refer you to the Journal of Psychiatry?”

“Are you telling me you don’t believe in vampires?” Matt quips.

“That’s not… Answer my question!”

The sound of your heartbeat must sound almost like the rapid firing of a machine gun, that’s how fast your pulse is racing. Your veins threaten to burst with the excess blood. It’s a heat like no other. You’re a witch at the stake, and Matt is holding the torch to your gasoline-doused body.

He clears his throat. Your face falls at the words that tumble out of his parted lips, and the rapid firing turns into a deafening silence and a monotone line on a heart monitor.

“After what I’ve learned from reading Dr. Rice’s research on the phenomena of vampirism, I can confidently say this species is no different than an animal like the great white shark or the Homo sapiens sapiens—our kind,” he recites. “Vampires are a medium of fiction and propaganda to induce fear, but they are also a widely misunderstood species that is being silenced rather than heard. Our species, the human species, likes to consider themselves superior, even when we’re in a position of being someone’s natural food source. Dr. Rice’s research is based on a comprehensible set of facts, and isn’t that what we have been relying on ever since the beginning? Our psychology makes it possible for us to change the narrative in our favor, and more often than not, we ignore the very facts deemed by humans as an intellectual importance to spread the message of an entirely different agenda. Dr. Rice’s research only proves that egotism and humans themselves will be humankind's certain downfall.”

“My investigative journalism essay,” you breathe out.

“Published by Columbia University.”

Your heart restarts with a rush of adrenaline. “How… how do you know all of this?”

“I may be blind,” Matt says, “but I know how to read between the lines.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

The alcohol in his drink seems to have little effect on him. “I know you have questions, and I’m willing to answer them if you promise to publish a detailed report somewhere other than Silver Lining Magazine.”

You look down at your bag, then back at him. “Ben Urich could have told your story in a way that would’ve made people listen,” you murmur. “I don’t have an impressive career like him.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, “but you could have easily written ‘Attack on NYC’. Ben was a good man, an even better journalist, but he could not have written your college essay. And he could never have been you.”

Your name rolls off his tongue—not a pretentious nickname that makes you want to vomit but your name, and it flicks a switch within you.

You glance around the spacious living, pulling your laptop out of its confines, and you bridge the distance between you, finally. You notice he smells of sandalwood cologne and scentless soap. “Okay,” you cave. “Where do you want me to set up?”

Session 1.

The spacebar clicks underneath the tip of your index finger. The white of your screen fills with a series of red sequences as the microphone takes in every little sound around you. Except for the two of you and the fading footsteps of one of Matthew’s assistants though, the world has fallen silent in the dead of the night. He’s sitting across from you, legs crossed, head tilted; your life is about to change.

“So, Mister Murdock,” you begin, “tell me. How long have you been dead?”

His mouth opens in a wide grin. “242 years,” he answers.

“And what happened the year you died?”

“Well, it was 1782. I was a good few years out of law school. I was a good lawyer, but I wasn’t successful. That year, I met a beautiful woman at a banquet. I wasn’t rich—trust me, I was beyond penniless—but she had been adopted into a wealthy family, and that made her one of the richest women in the room. Everyone wanted her, but when I sensed her across the hall, she only had eyes for me. And she was the first woman to not see me just because I was blind.” He chuckles sadly. “I thought she was the woman of my dreams, the love of my life, but a few weeks later, after letting her into my life, I realized that she didn’t look at me that night because she was interested. She was hunting me. El— Miss Elektra Natchios…”

The year 1782 becomes apparent before your inner eye. As he tells you about the night he met her, you can see the dark-haired beauty making her way across the ballroom. Red lips and a gown to die for. Her dark eyes were full of mischief, but the passion in them could have knocked a grown man off of his feet. And that is just what she did to poor Matthew.

“I was going to marry her,” he tells you.

He went to church regularly. His knees were bloody from praying, his senses already heightened before he died. God’s soldier, that is how he puts it. He was told that the accident that left him blind happened for a reason, and he had to fight a war that went beyond the country’s fight for independence.

That summer, Elektra drained him. He didn’t know what she was. She fooled him. He was obsessed with her. Her dark eyes he couldn’t see lured her in, and it was the venom in her blood that became his downfall after she dug her teeth into him.

Matt tried to beg his priest for forgiveness, but he didn’t even make it past the marble stairs before the doors locked. He knelt in a pool of blood—both his and that of the first human he ever sucked dry to survive as a newborn vampire—offering an eternal sacrifice to Catholicism, but God abandoned him on his doorstep.

The church walls would have been set on fire if he had touched them from the inside.

You look up from your notepad to find him now standing at the window. He’s not looking out, of course, but he seems so deep in thought, the memories that aren’t your own but his start to dissipate, and you’re brought back to the here and now.

Matt poured his heart out to you. You expected answers, but not this kind, and certainly not of this magnitude. You see him in an entirely different light. He’s vulnerable, fragile, and human. He has endured trauma that killed him, but he couldn’t die because the woman he loved made him immortal. It’s a bigger curse than growing up with the belief that an accident made you God’s soldier.

He lost everything. For centuries, he has had to live with that. It’s killing you, feeling his pain, the pure agony that radiates off him.

Your voice is quiet when you ask him, “What was it like?” You don’t have to say it out loud for him to know what you are referencing.

Matt chuckles, the sound a mere breath in the atmosphere. “Like she took my soul from my body, setting fire to my belief system and already heightened senses,” he says.

You swallow. “That sounds… overstimulating.”

“It was. Is. My heart stopped, but when that happened, something else awoke inside me. The hunger… the hunger was the worst part. It’s insatiable. One hour passes, and you feel like you’ve been starving for weeks.”

“Like you’ve been possessed by a demon?”

“Like I am the demon.”

“But you’re not.” You should stop the recording. You’re not on track; you’re incorporating your feelings into Matt’s story, but you can’t help it. The words tumble out of your mouth without a second thought, a train that cannot be stopped.

He raises his eyebrows, you can see it in his reflection in the windows. “Are you religious?” he asks.

You shake your head. “This isn’t about me.”

“Are you?”

The veins on the back of his hands bulge as he balls them to fists at his sides. Your throat is a desert, and your heartbeat resembles a storm that burns right through it, sending the sand flying in all directions of the horizon.

You adjust in your seat, crossing one leg over the other. He takes a whiff. He’s smelling you, and that doesn’t help the speed of your pulse to calm down.

Tapping your pen on your notepad, you watch the red sequences fill the white space of the recording program. It moves with the sound of your voice when you finally dare to answer. “It’s a complicated question because there is a difference between believing in God and believing in the church,” you say.

“Do you believe in God then?” Matt asks. It’s as though he’s trying not to seethe at the mere mention of someone he used to worship. You make a note of that.

“There is so much bad in this world. So much cruelty. I can’t…” You take a deep breath. “I don’t know how to believe in a God that would let the things humans do to each other happen. If God existed—if he was as merciful as Christians like to claim, he wouldn’t let this happen. And I’m so sick and tired of people using their faith, and their beliefs in God and the church as justification to be disrespectful. I don’t understand it. How can anyone? Why is someone who has to drink blood to stay alive—someone who didn’t even choose this life—worth less and the devil’s breed when humans do worse things to each other? Why would God allow us to start wars that kill innocent people? Children? It’s just not fair that we treat ourselves and others as though we are already in hell, and we’re just supposed to accept that God doesn’t care—” You stop yourself, the tears burning behind your eyes.

Matt turns back around. You can’t look away. “When I was still human,” he murmurs, “I used to believe everything that happened to me was God’s will. The accident, God’s will. Me going blind, God’s will. I went to confession, prayed until my knees were bloody and bruised. I tried convincing myself that every scream I heard from down the block, every person who lost their life or their innocence was my responsibility. God made me this way for a reason, right?” The scoff is as bitter as the liquor in his glass. “I fell apart, you know. I was a kid, so I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand what was happening to me,” he tells you.

You hold your breath. The glasses slip from his eyes as he takes them off with shaky fingers. You are met with the most beautiful pair of hazel eyes. Emotions dance a heated tango in a tornado. If you look closer, the green specks bring life to his eyes. It’s human nature in the purest sense of the word.

Your reflection stands in his irises, his unmoving pupils, and the tears glisten in his eyes. They’re as red as blood, watered-down crimson essence. You want to reach out and stroke his cheek, but that would be crossing a very big line that you can’t bring yourself up to touch.

“I studied law because I thought it would change something,” he continues. You listen. It’s the only thing you can do—listen. “It wasn’t enough. Nothing I ever did felt like it was enough. I lost my father. Jack. I didn’t know my mother until it was too late. Maggie. I had no one. No money, no prospects, just me and those voices in my head, telling me I was supposed to be God’s soldier.”

“You’re not,” you cut in.

He shakes his head. “I prayed; I crawled up the stairs of the church, and I spent hours repenting for my sins. I bled myself dry for Him. I sacrificed myself. I sacrificed my youth, my heart, and my soul, and I got nothing back. I begged for help until my voice was sore, but nothing… God, nothing was ever good enough. Until Elektra came around,” he says.

“She changed everything for you. It makes sense. She turned you into a vampire, but she also loved you.”

“She did love me, in her own twisted way.”

“It’s what you deserved,” you say.

He isn’t yours, but the pang you feel in your chest is treacherous. Your heart cracks like a porcelain vase, jealousy creeping in like a parasite of toxic waste.

In response, Matt only chuckles bitterly. “She made me believe again, then took my soul and crushed it in her hand.” The correction makes your shoulders slump. “Instead of feeling like my world ended though, I felt at peace when she sucked the blood out of my veins and fed me her venom,” he says. “It’s sick, I know. I was aware I died that night, that she turned me into a devil who could only survive if he drank the blood of others. The Catholic in me struggled to accept it, but I had no choice but to embrace what she made me.”

“And where is she now?” you ask.

“Gone.” The light in his eyes has fully disappeared now. “I stayed with her for a while until she died in my arms. She showed me what love is, and she showed me heartbreak. She made me hungry for blood, awakening the devil I’ve been trying to tame. She taught me how to feed, how to hunt, and how to chase. But she also cursed me,” he says. “I only exist for myself now. I only bleed for myself. No God, no church, and no more religion. I’m not Jesus, I’m Judas, and I retired the cross the day I was crucified.”

You have run out of questions to ask. Too overwhelming is the sight of his walls crumbling down, this stranger you now know better than any living being seems to. You no longer see money in this, or a story to chase, you only see Matthew, and the halo above his head he still believes is a pair of horns. The world broke him. His faith in God broke him. It crushed him, and he lost everything. How broken he must be.

“Not such a pretty story when I say it out loud, huh?” He scoffs.

The spacebar clicks again. The recording comes to a sudden halt. One hour and fifty-eight minutes, the first session of your interview with the vampire. You need to put a halt to it now because what you are about to say or do as you reach your hand out to brush his cold, dead skin is not something that should be found on a record. And you won’t ever tell.

Matt pulls away when your warm fingertips brush his. You’re standing across from him now, so close he can smell, hear, and feel all of you at once.

Your touch is the holy water that burns his skin, but the fire sustains him and shoots straight to his core the same way the blood rushes to yours.

“It’s not a pretty story, no,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, “but it did tell me what I already knew.”

“And what’s that?” he asks.

“That you’re not evil. You’re not the Devil. You’re misunderstood. You’ve been beaten; you’ve been abandoned, hurt, and broken. That doesn’t make you a monster. Trying to make this city a better place does not make you a monster.”

“If you only knew the things I’ve done…”

“I know the rumors suggest that you were the one who fought Wilson Fisk and got this city back where it needed to be. You’ve saved countless women from the worst of fates. You are the reason the innocent people of Hell’s Kitchen feel safe. By picking up that mask, you became a hero, not a villain, and that is the story I want to tell.”

In lightspeed, he has moved you from the window to the other end of the room. Your back hits the wall.

Matt towers over you in all of his intimidating glory. His eyes spark red, but you hold his unfocused gaze. He has such beautiful eyes. This pull between you is far from human; it’s unhealthy, and it is exactly where he wanted to get you. You’re trapped, pinned underneath him like a deer caught in headlights.

Exhaling, your breath strokes his cheeks. He closes his eyes, savoring the taste of you. Every particle in the air, he inhales. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. Oh, what you wouldn’t do to suck that tongue into your mouth.

Your pheromones play his head like a puppeteer pulling the strings of his marionette. He growls. “Do you have any idea how dangerous I am?”

The moonlight catches his sparkling white teeth. This time though, you come face to face with the sharp edges of his previously concealed fangs. Your jaw drops open. He’s ethereal.

“I could snap your neck—” Matt places his hand on your neck, “I could make that heart stop beating, take the air from your lungs. I could eat you…” He traces the vein in your throat from your jaw to your collarbone. “I could bite you and suck your blood until you’re empty. I could kill you, sweetheart. My kind is your natural enemy. You shouldn’t be here.”

You shudder. His nose brushes the sensitive skin below your ear. He’s so close you can smell him. On inhale, and his scent consumes your senses. He is all you can feel now. You reach out to hold onto his arms, his muscles tensing under your teeth. He’s big and strong, and those hands have a mind of their own as they begin to wander but never where you need him most.

You shouldn’t be here, yet you came. He asked you to him, and you complied. Is this your fate now? Chasing after your big bad wolf like the helpless sheep that you are?

Your walls clench around an agonizing emptiness, your swollen clit brushing against your soaked underwear. Whatever he is doing to you, it’s the cruelest form of torture.

A strangled noise breaks out of the back of his throat, rumbling in his chest. “You have no idea how badly I want to taste you,” he breathes.

“Do it,” you beg. “Taste me.”

He utters your name again. “Stop.”

“Please.”

Your tone shatters him. When he kisses you, finally, fireworks explode in the universe around you. All the stars seem to finally align. Your heart opens, and it sucks him right into you. Your soul yearns for him. He’s so close yet so far away.

The moon stands between you, but you cross even that ocean as you push against him, forcing your tongue into his mouth. He takes like heaven and hell; he’s the apple Eve bit into and cursed her for all eternity. But he’s also the snake, the one who compelled you to take this journey of bad decisions and jump right off the cliff’s edge. You melt into him like a broken candle.

He pulls away. Those fangs are alluring, as sharp as a knife’s tip. You want to know what it would feel like gracing your skin, digging into your as he thrusts his cock into your tight cunt. The thought alone sends your mind into a spiral.

Your lips are swollen, but he has yet to draw blood. Matt looks as though he wouldn’t dare, his eyes darting around in a darkened conflict he feels might cost him more than your dignity. You are begging for it, as is your body, but he’s holding himself back. He’s the one who tied himself to an invisible pillar, keeping his hands locked behind his back. But that is not the Matt you want.

You lean your head to the side, exposing the length of his neck. All control has slipped from your fingers. It’s in his hands now—you are. He cups your head gently. A mere few inches lie between your fountain and his lips.

You press a kiss to his calloused palm—a desperate and needy kiss, tracing your tongue over the lines that tell his life’s story in a way no interview can retell—and it is then he is forever done for. He’s doomed, and you are the second woman to pull him under the pits of hell.

Saliva drips from his fangs. You hold your breath. He hisses, a weak admission of surrender; the words die miserably on your tongue when his lips close around your pulse point with all his might, and his teeth drive home.

You moan aloud. Your fingers tangle in his hair, forcing him deeper as he sucks the dark red essence out of your vein. The sensation is more than you bargained for. It’s a drug that wrecks your system. The synapses in your brain backfire with all their might, and what follows the initial explosion of pleasure shooting white hot through your being is complete and utter silence as this God of a man feeds on you.

The invisible string between you glows a bright crimson. It slings around you, tying you together like the roots of a tree. It’s an eternal sacrifice. You are giving your all to him, the very core of your existence that is now flowing into his mouth. You swear you can hear his thoughts mingle with yours. Yes, more, please. You taste so good. Your knees buckle, but you remain standing strong. He makes sure you don’t fall. Don’t slip away from me. I need you.

A tear rolls down your cheek. You could sob. It feels so good—too good to be true. In that moment, you become one. There is no telling where one begins and the other ends. The coil in your stomach tightens, and the only pain you feel is the pleasure threatening to overwhelm you. He’s taking everything as you give him everything, but it is not enough. It has never been enough.

When your body struggles to catch up with the lack of blood, he pulls away. His fangs drag out of your neck agonizingly slowly. You whimper at the sudden loss.

Matt catches you as you stumble into his arms. “You okay?” He cradles your face, brushing the hair out of your face. Your blood stains his lips. Blinking up at him, the force of your metaphysical connection slaps you awake.

You cease to exist in all solar systems but his.

He pokes the tip of his index finger with the sharp edge of one tooth, sliding it over the two holes that are pulsating with the work of your heartbeat.

“I shouldn’t have—” he begins.

“No,” you say. “You did exactly what you should have.”

“I couldn’t stop.”

“But you did.” You wipe the blood from his mouth. “And I felt you. I only felt you.”

The living room passes by you. Before you know it, your back lands on something much softer than a concrete wall. He’s not a monster, that one, but he surely is an animal.

You taste your blood on Matt’s luscious lips as he devours your tongue. It tastes of copper and a little bitter, but that is what makes him moan. That sound is the last thing you could ever grow tired of.

His palm rests on your chest. Your heart pounds against his palm. “You’re so alive,” he says.

You cradle his face in your hands. “And you’re more human than you think.”

If he wanted to pull your heart out and hold it, you would let him in a heartbeat.

He leans you back. He strips you bare. He kisses down your body like you are a fucking masterpiece for him to explore. That is how he sees you.

Your head falls back. The kisses wander from your hips to the inside of your thighs. Every kiss brings his breath closer to your center. Matt pulls them apart. He opens you up to him. Your scent clouds his senses, and he groans, but he doesn’t touch.

His fangs graze your skin. “Mine,” he growls.

You gasp. He bites into the sensitive flesh. Hard, passionately. Your legs wrap around his head, trapping him there. He sucks, and he sucks, and he drinks, and the wetness pools out of your cunt in an obscene amount. This is foreplay to him. It drives you toward the edge leading to an abyss you are afraid you might never be able to crawl back out of. There is no bottom, it is just a pit, and he’s pushing you closer and closer, and—

Your back arches, but he pulls away before the coil can snap into a million butterflies. He pries your legs away from his head, spreading them further on the mattress, as far apart as they will go.

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner have been served on a silver platter. He breathes in. The scent of your soaked pussy sticks to the hairs in his nose. It isn’t enough. He breathes in again, your arousal sweeter than fiction. You’re everything and more. He wants to taste that part of you more than anything, suck up the slick that is soaking the sheets—and you didn’t even think that was possible—but he waits because he needs to savor it. He doesn’t want it to be over too soon. neither for him nor for you.

The blood is still dripping from his tongue and his fangs, and the raw inside of your thigh. He runs his finger through it. The sting runs from the wound to your folds, then back down. Still, he doesn’t touch. He plays with the blood, sucking on his fingers until they’re clean, and then he dives back in for a taste. He doesn’t bite, he kisses and sucks, but he doesn’t push it further. He doesn’t hurt you.

You’re his saving grace; he has to worship you. Pain only has a place in pleasure.

“Matthew,” you moan.

He chuckles, kissing where his fangs left deep indentations. “No one will ever touch you again,” he purrs. “I’ll make sure of that.”

You try to protest, but the words die on your tongue when he leans in, capturing your clit with his hungry mouth. The wound on your thigh closes. The blood from his lips mixes with your juices, and you cry out at the intensity of it all.

He eats you with the ferocity of a man starved for weeks. He eats your pussy like he ate your blood, savoring every drop but still feasting for the taste to spread out in his mouth like wildfire. Sour, sweet, and copper. He sucks your sensitive clit into his mouth. His tongue drags through your folds, up and down, and then the tip slides inside, tasting your walls. He grows bolder as your moans accelerate.

Matt cradles your thighs. He forces your hips back down to the mattress, stronger than the average human man. You have to endure his beard scratching and burning, and the pace he has set.

The orgasm creeps up on you. Before you know it, he has plunged his tongue into you, and your body convulses around him. You scream into a pillow as you come.

You are each other’s forbidden fruit. No prayer in the world could keep you apart.

Faintly, you can hear him say, “Good girl.” Your legs quiver. He pulls away, then comes right back like a boomerang.

He’s warm now. He was cold before, but when he kisses you this time, he’s warm. He’s hot. You run your hands over his bare chest, the scars that lie under the dark strands of hair. You tug at it, and he moans. You can tell he is a little insecure, but by pressing your lips to one of the cuts on his shoulder, he relaxes.

What he must have endured, what he must have lived through before he died and was resurrected in the same breath, just without a beating heart—you don’t want to think about it or you will break, but you can still feel him through the crimson tie that holds you together, and you know that he has suffered enough for more than two lifetimes. You wish you could take it all away from him. You wish you could have saved him before it was too late, loved him more than the woman who turned him, but turning back time is an impossibility. You are both acutely aware of that.

“Hey.” Matt tilts your head toward him. “Where did you just go?” he asks.

“Thinking about you,” you murmur.

“Me?”

“You.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to be your salvation.”

You. His salvation. He kisses you, softly this time. He pours gratitude into his lips and bleeds them out in poetry as they slide into your mouth, and you swallow every last drop.

If someone had told you a week ago where you would see yourself on that particular Monday, you would have laughed at them. And if someone had told you a week ago that you would be making love to the devil, you would have called them crazy. But it’s happening.

He thrusts into you without a warning. His thick cock fills you like nothing and no one ever has before. Your cunt has been molded to fit him, you’re sure. You take him in, and you moan at the stretch. It’s a pain so delicious you could fall apart right then and there just from the feel of him inside you.

Every thrust drags the tip of his cock along your sweet spot. Every added sensation drives you closer to your death.

Your body tingles. He explores your face with his lips rather than his fingers, moving to your neck again. You cling to him, oh-so-desperate for him. He likes you like that, and you like him like that.

“You’re fucking with my head,” he tells you. “Offering your pussy to a vampire. Letting me drink your blood. Begging me to fuck you. You’re in my head, baby. Can’t get you out of my system. Fuck.”

You are his downfall, his salvation, but he is all of those things to you as well—all of those things and more. If he could read your mind, you would tell him that. Words can’t do justice to how you feel. Not right now, maybe not ever.

“Bite me again,” you beg.

His thrusts falter. He searches your body for any sign of regret. His fangs come out, and he buries them deep in your jugular vein. The floodgates open wide. Your walls clench around his cock, your clit pulsates, and the wave crashes into you.

You come as he devours your neck and your blood. You transcend into another dimension, far away from everything and everyone but never him. Never Matthew.

The sensation of you wraps around him like a weighted blanket. His balls tighten, your blood unfolding its taste on his tongue. You are all over him, inside of him, everywhere at once. He falls head-first, dragging you down with him.

He comes with a shout that is only muffled through his teeth buried in your flesh, his cum spurting into you and filling your cunt to the brim. Your eyes roll back. You’re flying and falling all at once.

Oh, how good it feels to be consumed by him. To be fucked and sucked dry. You would have never expected this to come out of your week, let alone your life, but now that it has happened, you are floating on cloud nine.

Dizziness threatens to take over, but before you can pass out, he forces himself away, allowing your heart to catch up with the lack of blood in your system. He collapses on top of you. His cock softens, but he stays inside. You need him there. You want him there. And that is the only place he wants to rest tonight.

He heals the wounds on your neck. “You have a mark,” Matt rasps, tracing your skin with his finger.

You choke out, “Yours.”

“Yes, you are.” He kisses you there. Once, twice, even a third time. “Mine,” he says.

You’re his. He’s yours. It doesn’t get any better than this.

The minutes tick away on the obnoxious clock on the wall. Matt pulls out eventually, wrapping you up in a blanket. He coaxes you to drink, but you’re barely lucid. Only when he begins to stroke your hair you start coming back to yourself. You thought you might regret it, but as you look at him, his almost guilty eyes staring back at you, all you can do is reach out for him.

“Session two tomorrow?” you ask.

He chuckles and retorts, “Have I not scared you away?” There is some truth to it though.

He’s covered in your blood. It sticks to his lips, his hands, and his chest. It’s sickeningly intimate, in a way.

You shake your head in response. “You could not possibly.”

He listens to your heartbeat. You’re as honest as they come.

“Okay,” Matt says. “Session two tomorrow then.”

That night, you fell in love with the Devil, but he also fell in love with you, his angel in the form of a reckless journalist, and the only blood he ever wants to taste again until the end of his miserable, cursed days.

Matt Murdock (Smut) Tag List: @shouldbestudying41 @theradioactivespidergwen @cheshirecat484 @1988-fiend @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-girl-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #vampire!matt murdock #matt murdock angst #daredevil #x reader #interview with the vampire #charlie cox #alternate universe #reader insert

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murkycran · 8 months ago

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Radiostatic/Voxal Fic Rec List

Welcome to my Radiostatic/Voxal Fic Rec List! ^_^ This will include romantic, platonic, and/or queerplatonic Radiostatic fics (and admittedly probably a couple of Radiosilence fics, too).

I will keep updating this periodically as I read more fics, so feel free to check back every once and a while! I'll reblog it when I update it, plus make a note with the date at the top. Trust me, this is by no means a complete list; there's fics I still want to add to this that I just haven't gotten to yet. I just decided to go ahead and post it anyways, because if I kept waiting until I ran out of fics to rec I'd probably be working on this forever.

These are not in any particular order; I'm going by both my Bookmarks list on AO3 and my memory of fics I forgot to bookmark. I also tried to make notes on what fics were written before season 1 released, but I might have missed some, so keep that in mind.

Please let me know if any links don't work or are wrong!

✨Before you proceed:✨ read the tags on these fics if you decide to read them. Many of them have heavy material - no surprise given the fandom, but still, felt like this needed said. On that note, there's also fics with explicit material and some fics are straight up PWP. Again, read at your own risk/heed the tags.

Fic Rec List Masterpost

Staticmoth Fic Rec List

Misc. Vox Fic Rec List

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Radio Healed the Video Star by Aspiring_Forest_Witch

Summary: Alastor comes across an unconscious and battered Vox while out on one of his strolls. He feels compelled to bring him back to the hotel.

Notes: 98% of this fic was written before season 1 was released, so keep that in mind, because there's obviously going to be inconsistencies with canon. It's nearly finished (at least according to the author's notes in the latest chapters, I think). I suggest pacing yourself with this one - it's nearly 700k words long. I ruined a good sleep schedule staying up to get through it. (So worth it though.) There are quite a few OCs in later chapters, but they're such good OCs. You fall in love with them just as much as the canon characters, I swear. I would die for Verity and the Trio.

Let's Misbehave by joosymango

Summary: Alastor wins a bet against Vox, now his rival must stop pestering him for two weeks. It should be a pleasant break! So why does he miss the idiot?

Notes: Vaguely inspired by Aspiring_Forest_Witch's Radio Healed the Video Star. Also largely written before season 1 release. First fic I read for the HH fandom. ^_^

Safe with Me Series by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: Having only ever set his sights on men who treat women with odious disrespect, Alastor never thought he'd take interest in Vox's turbulent relationship with his fiancé and business partner, Valentino. He decides to lend a helping hand in the hopes of getting Vox out of his sticky situation. After all, what are childhood enemies for?

Unfortunately, neither Alastor nor Vox could've predicted the rollercoaster of unsaid emotions and future horrors that are thrown their way. Will they be able to rely on each other and get by unscathed? Or will destiny have other plans for these two?

[HUMAN AU] [There's art included for the human designs]

Notes: It's so, so good. ;-; Heed the tags. There's a prequel consisting of oneshots, plus a sequel (listed below, bc I can't not put it here)! And there's ART! So much art!

You, My Everything by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: Some say that love can conquer all, even in Hell.

Vox begged to differ, and he was damn well sure Alastor did too – or at least he would be, if Alastor hadn’t become one big question mark.

Sequel to Safe with Me.

Notes: Only read if you've read Safe With Me!!! Still pretty early in the story but so good. ;-; The angst, I swear...

You're on the Air by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: A series of short, daily conversations between a radio host and his avid listener, as the two learn more about each other’s lives over the air. Set in the late 90s/early 2000s.

Notes: Same author as Safe with Me, but not set in the same universe! This one is set up in a literal radio show format; almost entirely dialogue-centric.

Of Candied Pine and Cherried Smoke by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: Inspired by x_Arcticfox_x’s fanfiction: Blue Raspberries And Cherry Cola

After overdosing on them one too many times to curb the steadily weakening suppressants, Vox's body rejects them outright. Now with his scent getting stronger, he finds himself struggling to hide his true status as an Omega. In his desperation, he seeks help from the one person that knows his secret: Alastor.

Notes: Omegaverse. Same author as Safe with Me series and You're on the Air!

Blue Raspberries And Cherry Cola by x_Arcticfox_x

Summary: Vox is an omega, that's his biggest secret.

During his life time he hid this fact using suppressants, and counited to in death. One day he runs out of pills and his supplier is out of stock for the time being so Vox is forced to submit to the torture of going through heat for the first time in decades.

Too bad his business partner only see's omega's as mere object's...

But hey, at least Angel found him just in time, right?

Notes: Omegaverse. Currently on hold, but has 14 chapters currently available for reading. :)

Once Bitten, Twice Shy by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Alastor decides that it's time to claim what is rightfully his, consequences be damned.

Notes: It's not porn but it might as well have been for how fucking intense this scene was. 😳

Dripping Pink by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Just before an Overlord meeting, Alastor gets infected by an off-market, highly potent, and incredibly dangerous love potion. Nobody realises until it's too late.

Notes: Simultaneously funny as fuck and erotic as all hell. I suffered from so much secondhand embarrassment on Vox's behalf. It's wonderful. :D

Lucidity's Fog by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Ever since he met Alastor, Vox has been having raunchy dreams about the deer. Those dreams suddenly stop when Alastor disappears. For seven years, he's free of the guilt, of the shame brought on by his unconscious desire.

Until Alastor comes back, and Vox is plagued by a new dream the same day he finds out about the news. This time, however, something is distinctively different about how the deer is acting.

Notes: Author tagged for light angst, but ngl the ending did not feel like 'light' angst to me lol. Hurt in a good way.

Finger Tips and Dotted Lips by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Alastor has sensitive hands; he finds this out at the most inconvenient time possible. Unfortunately, Vox is the one who ends up paying the price for it.

Having to help a seemingly broken Overlord whilst navigating this new discovery proves to be a little more taxing than the Radio Demon could ever have imagined.

Notes: Alastor is such a troll in this omg.

Thawing Out by Seaside_Dreaming

Summary: Seeing a small crack in Vox's screen nags at Alastor more than he likes to admit.

Vox wishes things were better. Sooner or later, Alastor has to come to terms with the fact he has feelings, in general.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. HIGHLY suggest reading the prequel one-shot. It's not necessary to understand the plot here, but you should read it anyway.

Static by passthevoxcord

Summary: Vox creates a new and improved version of himself to please Val, only to be replaced by it. He is left beaten and broken with no one to turn to . . . except maybe his oldest enemy, Alastor.

Notes: Written before season 1 release.

Hating you feels so good by TwoBitJester

Summary: Vox obsesses over his returned enemy and finds himself a little too wound up

Notes: Very good PWP.

Laced Over Dinner by hazbinhearts

Summary: Vox is persuaded to dress a little differently over dinner for Alastor, but finds it remarkably uncomfortable as the night goes on. Written for VoxWeek21 Day 3: dressing up [appearance, formal, dance].

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Corsets. 😳

Observer by DeviousPossum

Summary: He moved the cursor to click off, when he suddenly heard a very recognizable static laced tone.

Alastor.

What the fuck. Alastor is singing.

Vox unintentionally ran claw marks across his desk, an increasingly common habit for him as of late. He grimaced at his now ruined table and unsuccessfully tried to reel in an inexplicable feeling that could only be described as jealousy.

Notes: Porn with a tiny bit of plot in the first chapter. :3

RadioTV Week 2021 Series by Heliosolar

Summary: Pretty much the title; various prompts.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. All worth reading, though they aren't connected.

Sharkblocking by Anonymous

Summary: Alastor is Vox’s number one rival. Incidentally, though nobody involved is aware of it, Alastor’s number one rival is actually Vox’s pet shark.

In which Alastor is actually a little obsessed back and Vark is the biggest obstacle to Radiostatic short of canon itself.

Notes: VARK!

Control + V by TooManyPsuedonyms

Summary: Vox and Alastor have a... thing. Not quite a relationship, but something. Vox is too scared to define it properly, and Alastor is dead set that Vox will eventually get bored of his lack of reciprocity and move on.

So, Valentino tries to show Vox what he is missing.

... too bad Vox didn't want him like that. ... too bad Alastor didn't know want is a vague word.

Notes: Heed the tags!!! There's currently a sequel; I haven't read it yet, but I definitely plan to. 👀

gift of the magi by vol_ctrl

Summary: "... Although husband and wife are now left with gifts that neither one can use, they realize how far they are willing to go to show their love for each other, and how priceless their love really is ..."

Alastor/Vox established relationship fluff.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Very sweet. ^_^

the lost tape by vol_ctrl

Summary: There's a NEW ambitious media demon in Pentagram City. You never get a second chance to make a first impression, right?

Notes: Written before season 1 release.

12 Days of Yuletide by vol_ctrl

Summary: A parody of the 12 Days of Christmas traditional tune, as can only be done by Vox gifting to his beloved adversary.

Or, a series of letters from the desk of Alastor upon receiving a series of increasingly elaborate gifts from his insufferably modern foil during the holiday season.

Notes: Written before season 1 release.

Fear makes the heart grow fonder by Graysongirl

Summary: After a bit of inspiration from an unlikely source Vox comes up with the plan that scaring Alastor is the best route to gaining his affections. The haunted house at LuLu World seems like the perfect (safe) environment for a bit of pre-planned scaring...

[Stand-alone staticradio]

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Funny af. "Red! Red!" XD

Cordyceps, King of Ants by spappest

Summary: Vox is tired. Of Valentino. Of Velvette. Of Alastor, and Hell, and everything in between. He can't escape, but he can cut himself off, piece by piece, until he feels nothing at all. Alastor takes exception to this approach and commissions a certain princess of Hell to fix his foe. Now Vox has a hotel of misfits on one side of him, overlords on the other, and Alastor crushing his cage ever smaller.

Clearly, the only way Vox will get any peace and quiet is to just kill God.

Valentino did always tell him that he had no chill.

Notes: Started before season 1 was released. Technically features Staticmoth but it's not the focus as much as Radiostatic (which honestly has a relationship status of ??? not romantic but also not friendship or even strictly enemies...just...Alastor and Vox). O_O I think about this fic on a daily basis.

Russian Roulette by spappest

Summary: Vox and Alastor play a game that Vox is way too excited to lose.

Notes: Started before season 1 release. Take note!!! I'm putting this on the Radiostatic list because it's almost entirely centered on Alastor and Vox's dynamic, but the romantic relationship is Staticmoth. The Staticmoth is just not featured very much.

Vox and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Afterlife by spappest

Summary: Alastor goes into rut.

Vox has a bad time. Then a good time. Then a very bad time. Then a brief vacation. Then a confusing time.

Notes: Background Staticmoth, but Radiostatic is most prominent. Funny af. Alastor and Vox have...a very special relationship. Lol.

Killer Ex by FanGirl48

Summary: Alastor was a serial killer who valued his privacy. So when someone who claims to know what he is tries to barge into his life he can't let them live, his secret must be protected at all cost.

A normally easy task easy task becomes complicated when Alastor's ex-boyfriend is dragged into the whole thing forcing the serial killer to go visit them for the first time in seven years.

Notes: Human AU. Love me some possessive Alastor. <3

Negotiations by FanGirl48

Summary: Vox had no interest in attending a meeting between Heaven and Hell following the failed attack by the Adam and his Exterminators. Alastor's little gremlin caused the mess, so he can go clean it up. Vox had nothing wanted nothing to do with the radio demon, king of hell or heaven.

But that was before Lucifer made the media overlord aware of Valentino's little job offer to his daughter.

Damnit Valentino!

Notes: "And they were roommates!" "Oh my god they were roommates"

Down, Up, and Back Down by CowboyEnthusiast

Summary: Vox dies. Surprisingly no one takes this well.

Or, Vox dies and Alastor tries to drag his soul back from Purgatory.

Notes: Another fic I think about daily... Heavy themes. Heed the tags.

Hold Me Like a Grudge by Rachello344

Summary: Alastor has spent a long time running from Vox. Vox has chased after him almost as long. When suppressants fail throughout the city, they finally collide.

Notes: Omegaverse. Fun fact about this author: all their Radiostatic fic titles are from Fall Out Boy lyrics lol. (I fucking love FOB sue me.) I haven't yet read all of Rachello344's Radiostatic fics, BUT I have them all on my To Read list because I've loved everything I've read of theirs so far lol.

What Makes You So Special? by Rachello344

Summary: With Lucifer’s return to the Pride Ring, the other Deadly Sins were bound to take notice. When Asmodeus stops by the Pride Ring to visit the Morningstars, the Vees are able to make a deal to host a pop-up shop of the incredibly popular Lust Ring establishment, Ozzie’s, bringing it to the Pride Ring for the first time.

When Vox and Alastor both attend the restaurant’s opening night, long repressed sparks fly, forever changing their relationship.

Notes: Because of the pacing of this (sex first romance later), I feel like this is the Radiostatic equivalent of Femalefonzie's Freak-A-Zoid (a really good Staticmoth fic). This is hands down one of the most romantic Radiostatic fics I've read. ^_^

Hold Me Tight (or Don't) by Rachello344

Summary: Alastor and Vox finally come to an understanding, both of each other and of what they each mean to the other. Their relationship evolves accordingly, one concession at a time, until they both get everything they could possibly want: power, companionship, and even love.

Notes: So, so good.

Keep You Like an Oath by Rachello344

Summary: Alastor normally wouldn’t bother with the chore—breaking into V Tower was quite a lot of work, even for him—but he found himself curious about what Vox and his little friends might be working on. Especially since whatever it was had Angel concerned enough to report back to the rest of the hotel about it.

Of course, before he can learn anything, he’ll need to sneak past Vox’s watchful eye…

Notes: God it's just...so good. Read it. Radiostatic reconciliation. One thing I love about Rachello344 writing Radiostatic is Alastor's terms of endearment for Vox. ^_^

To Be Yours by pinegreenapples

Summary: Alastor hears something he hasn't heard in years. He decides to investigate why now, of all times, this frequency has turned back on. Vox is not amused.

Notes: Hurt no comfort. Hurts so good, though. ;-;

oleanders in june by spoondrifts

Summary: It seems like while Alastor was off preying on the self-destructive addictions of desperate sinners, Vox was off getting himself beaten half to death, probably from spouting belligerent nonsense at someone with violent tendencies and a far lower threshold for disrespect than Alastor. Not everyone finds poor Vox’s chatter as charming as he does.

If Vox is unconscious, then Vox is not being entertaining, and Alastor came here to have fun, not play nursemaid.

Or: Drunk on power and itching to cause some mayhem, Alastor hunts down the only person in the city who's always up for anything. Unfortunately, he finds Vox... not exactly in tip-top shape. No matter; he can work with that too.

Notes: ^_^ Very sweet.

equilibrium by curtailed

Summary: Post-Finale. The Hotel finds Alastor right on the front lawn, unconscious and bleeding, still injured from Adam's blade. While he recovers, all of Hell scrambles to find out who his mysterious rescuer is.

Meanwhile, Vox tries not to freak out that he might have accidentally made a soul bond to save that deer asshole's life. All he had wanted to do was to scope out the ruins of Alastor's radio tower. Fuck him for being curious, he supposed.

Notes: This fic has me in a CHOKEHOLD. I love the characterizations so, so much. Manages to fit in humor alongside the angst. One of the best fight scenes I've ever seen put into words. Curtailed really took Vox and Alastor as characters and planned out a cool fucking fight scene using their unique abilities. I automatically love anything tagged with "one fell first but the other fell harder" lol.

candlelight by curtailed

Summary: Despite the #SirRepentious success, Heaven remains skeptical of a sinner's ability to change. Logic gets lost somewhere, and really, what's a better way to show sinners can be marginally less horrible than to stick two Overlords who hate each other in the same living space?

Alastor and Vox play house.

Notes: The comedy of Alastor and Vox being forced to be civil with each other and then unintentionally becoming very domestic together. Lol

wallow by curtailed

Summary: A 2+1 fic. Two times when Alastor and Vox were in a love triangle (hard quote on love, hard quote on triangle), and the one time Alastor had Vox to himself.

Notes: Only 1 (very good) chapter so far, but safe to say pretty heavy already. Heed the tags.

Addicted by Dancingdog

Summary: After the latest argument with Valentino, Vox finds himself at the Hazbin Hotel. An injured Alastor is less-than-pleased to see him, which is understandable considering they are enemies.

But as more and more of Valentino's venom leaves his system, Vox begins to remember his days before V-Tower and he learns exactly why Alastor rejected his offer all those decades ago.

His memories return in fits and spurts - not all of them good. His past with Alastor isn't something he expected and it turns out that he isn't the only one suffering.

Notes: Dude. This fic hurt me. Such good angst.

Radio Made the Video Star Series by songofhell

Summary: Snippets of Vox and Alastor's afterlife, and their journey from strangers to friends to enemies to... something more.

Notes: Pretty much what the series summary says - a series of installments that chronicle the beginning and subsequent evolution of Alastor and Vox's relationship. Very good, has tons of possessive!Alastor, which I die for.

Uneasy by Saezs

Summary: “Something’s wrong with Voxy.”

Velvette’s eyes snapped to the tall moth pimp. “And?” she prompted with a raised eyebrow. As if she needed to deal with two piss babies this close to a show. Valentino shrugged, tapping away on his phone, and walked away to stand threateningly close to her new models. Before she could snap at him, she saw it; his wings were twitching. Barely noticeable to strangers, just under the hum of the building’s lights, he was squeaking with each tap of his fingers. She felt unease and a healthy dose of aggravation swirl in her stomach.

Or: Vox was roofied and sexually assaulted. Velvette tries to be better than her mother. Unexpected connections are formed.

Notes: Heed the tags! Features genderfluid Vox. :)

Five Times Vox and Alastor Danced and One Time They Didn't by Drowsy_Salamander

Summary: “I say, good fellow, what are you doing on the ground like that?”

The voice was perky, cheerful, and bright. It had a crisp mid-Atlantic accent, the kind Vox remembered being all the rage for stage and film performers back when he first entered the broadcast industry. The diction was crystal clear with every sound enunciated separately to maximise clarity, the consonants clicked and the vowels were broad. It was a performer’s voice.

A voice for radio.

Oh shit.

... Five times Vox and Alastor danced and one time Vox and Alastor didn't.

From their first meeting through their friendship, to their enmity and fighting. From infatuation to yearning to animosity. Dancing is a partnership, is it not?

Notes: Each chapter so far has been a different type of dance, which is really neat. Especially chapter 2. ^_^ That said, there's a feeling of impending doom, knowing what happens to their relationship eventually... Not saying that as a deterrent but just a comment on how I felt while reading it lol. It's very sweet, which is why it hurts to think of future chapters. 🙃

Days Long Past by Momo52

Summary: All sinners of hell bore some physical marks of how they lived and died. Some physical manifestations were more obvious while others were subtle. Vox was not an exception to this rule.

While his television head was an obvious indication of his life while on Earth, the mark he bore from his death was far more subdued. Luckily enough, his shame was easily concealed behind a high collar. Unfortunately, he is just as well known in his afterlife as he was in his life. As such, trying to make everyone believe that he is so much stronger than what his death implies is a constant battle. He only wished that he wasn’t the hardest one to convince.

Notes: I think platonic Radiostatic is the endgame here. Still pretty early in the story, but I'm really liking this author's depiction of Vox and Alastor's pasts. Heed the tags. There are heavy subjects such as suicide (very big theme for Vox's pov) and period-typical racism (in Alastor's past) present in the story.

Remote Access by x-UsoTsuki-x (its_not_reael)

Summary: In the aftermath of Alastor and Vox's electrifying on-air showdown, Vox finds himself unusually rattled. His usual suave demeanor is slipping, much to his cohorts' amusement – and concern. Velvet can do little more than roll her eyes at his antics. Valentino, on the other hand, is convinced that all Vox needs to do is get fucked and relax.

or, alternatively...

The tech-savvy overlord manages to snag a virus from a porn site and finds himself in the arms of his worst enemy.

Notes: Fairly certain this is firmly Radiosilence based on the tags (and the direction of the story so far). Very funny, very hot. Vox is pathetic in this one. Lol

Nun-thing Like You've Ever Seen Series by A_Cypress_Coffin

Summary: Alastor, the feared radio demon with more blood on his hands than most of hell combined, wasn't always as we imagine him. There was a time where instead of a dapper suit and smile he donned a simple vow and habit. That didn't last of course, but the journey is quite something.

Notes: This author has a great sense of humor, lmao. I enjoyed the unique headcanons for Alastor's backstory. The tag that hooked me: "Accidentally becoming a better person through bad domming and found family".

Empathia by The_Oblivious_Swallow

Summary: Creating new technology is boring, sex is physically unappealing, the other Vee’s are so annoying, annoying, annoying! Even Vark, his baby, his pride and joy, doesn’t stir the same joy in his heart like he should.

So, Vox had concluded that it had to go. For his sake.

Notes: Contains Staticmoth, but Radiostatic seems like the endgame (I write this as there is one chapter still left). Really interesting idea. I love Vox.exe so much. ;-;

Every Madman Has His Vice by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: “What the fuck do you want, Alastor? Was it not enough to kill me all those years ago? Now, you had to go for the people I loved and the only things I had left in this fucking Hellhole?”

“It was my fault,” Alastor whispers as he approaches Vox slowly, as if he was some sort of wounded animal he didn’t want to scare off. His prey. “Vox, I’m sorry. If I had a chance to redo that night, I would never have hurt you to this extent. I’ll never harm you again.”

“That’s seven years too fucking late, Alastor.”

OR: Seven years ago, instead of Alastor disappearing, it was Vox who left instead.

Notes: I’m so fucking here for this AU. Possessive Alastor, Vox helping with the hotel, Husk is still an Overlord, yessss

Metathesiophobia (Fear of Change) by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: There's a lot that can change in seven years.

But never once had Alastor expected for something like this from his old rival and older friend.

Or, Alastor and Vox start to rekindle their old friendship again after a shocking discovery strikes the deer demon.

Notes: QPR Radiostatic with MtF Vox! Contains a smidge of Staticmoth, but it's in the background and not the focus. Very well written.

surimi and venison by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: A series of short drabbles (500+ words) in an interconnected universe (peep the tags, they're still in hell), centering around Alastor and his new pet fish... shark... television thing. Will (hopefully) update 1-2 times a week. Written as my attempt at a Mermay series.

Notes: Like the summary says, Mermay prompts featuring SharkHybrid!Vox, along with Alastor, who literally saw Vox and decided to make him his pet. Lol.

an arm and a leg, my dear, les yeux d'la tête by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: “I mean, usually when Val gets mad he gets like, super pissy too an’ starts destroyin’ shit ‘round the set and in his clubs, but like, usually Vox can calm him down. Problem is, where the Hell is that guy? I haven’t seen ‘im round the Tower for like, a month or two now. That ain’t normal.”

“What, so you mean he just up and left?”

“No, but like… he hasn’t been seen ‘in public’ for like, two months now. It’s startin’ to get suspicious. Like, I ‘unno if I’m just paranoid or something, but… Vox is like, the fuckin’ face of Hell’s Entertainment District. When he’s not round for a bit, that’s nothing to worry about on its own… but when he’s not round for a bit an’ Val and Velvette are creeping around, looking for his rival…? I mean… the dots are connecting. If Al did something…”

“If Vox was dead, we would know.” OR: Two months ago, Vox went missing. Right now, it seems as if Alastor has something to hide.

Notes: Vox gets attic-wifed and wears a virgin killer sweater. ^_^

we'll go down together in the ashes of our love by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: Glimpses into the Radio Demon's life as he reluctantly navigates parenthood with his co-parenting partner and the demon princess hoisted onto him by the King and Queen of Hell.

Loosely inspired by Spy X Family.

Notes: CUTE! I love domestic Radiostatic.

What Has Been by Tianren

Summary: Vox has never known peace. From being the son of a egocentric cult leader, to being the boyfriend of a self absorbed abuser. Vox has managed to build a pretty sad life for himself. The only spot of sunshine that had ever blessed his existence was when he met an amateur true crime investigative journalist, with a podcast named, Alastor. The man was his only source of unfiltered news and contact to the world outside his father’s compound. But after Vox finally escaped the cult he waited for Alastor. Waited weeks in their assigned meeting spot just to be forgotten. Vox was convinced he’d stopped waiting for Alastor years ago until he meets the man again seven years later at a hotel. What will reconnecting with his past lead to and will it help him escape the hell he’s built for himself?

Takes place in the late 2000s early 2010s

Trigger warning for religious trauma and abuse as major themes of this story. Will add more warnings if they arise as I go on.

Notes: Really interesting human AU concept!

(Fic rec list to be continued)

#hazbin hotel #radiostatic #voxal #hazbin alastor #hazbin vox #fic rec list

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ourlittleuluru · 24 days ago

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Voyage Of The Outcast - My Thoughts 1/4

Can I just say this first...? Whoever made the Voyage of the outcast trailer. They threw us in for SUCH A DAMN LOOP!

in a good way! It started off with the poem which we have 0 context for. But with the potential angst they weaved, we were left to believe the poem was like... A bell ringing in some crazy angst ride. BUT IT ENDED UP...!! Okay I'll leave this to the ending part. I'll get back to it.

These are just me gathering my thoughts now that I'm awake 😂 Gonna be replaying through the story a few times. I have yet to read any other reviews at the moment so some things might be missed that others have posted about. I'll go catch up once I'm done uwu

Sorry this is one of the few times I am gonna be pretty unhinged and post a heck lot of text there's a heck lot to think about...

I tried to write a single post but my thoughts are... LONG (also I have a lot of images)... so split post it shall be ( ﾉﾟｰﾟ);;; Will try and format it a lil at least;;;;

Just a little something I noticed with the way the stories are written for the branches: ❄ Zayne branch explored more of his internal struggle and MC helps to overcome it with him 🐟 Rafayel, has mostly been forthright with his feelings even if there still secrets and stuff he doesn't say. So his branch mostly explored the external factors around his life. Such as the sea god power and also finally MC remembering their important shared memory. ⭐ Now Xavier. His branch feels a lot more full and rounded out to me because he's a man of secrets. It's been noted through the whole main story and many of their interactions. MC doesn't know what he does outside and MC a lot of the times can't quite figure him out. But all MC knows is to trust him even if blindly. And Xavier's story's branch addresses both internal and external factors and points surrounding him.

It's still is gonna be a long one, people (ヘ･_･)ヘ┳━┳ into the read more it goes

Notes in Chp 1

Okay first... what 😭

PAINTED! PROTOCORE FRAGMENTS! How... how did the smugglers thought it'd fly??? But the image that Xavier was just randomly pulled into this investigation to sit in as a judge was a funny image to me 😂

Anyways... This whole story, I love how they expand and voice out MC's inner thoughts even more, especially with MC's doubts about Xavier. But as always, it's mission and objectives come first, or some other things that takes precedence.

Now this part here is interesting to me. Xavier WANTS MC to probe and ask him more things. And I suspect that's where he'll slowly determine where MC stands and how to further proceed with letting MC know about what he does. 🤔

Which later gives us the chance to pick what to ask him

I ended up picking the 2nd option first since knowing Xavier, he'd still answer the question leaving lots of gaps =-=

SEE? Keeping it vague, again. Though this time he did hint at something which can easily just fly under the radar as something one knows the consequence of but must keep going.

Though it could also hint in the sense that, since he comes from Philos from the future, he's aware of the overarcing stuff that's gonna happen.

But for the other option, Xavier would be more straightfoward. We did get to know a bit more about the Aether Cores tho, well... and that is those things are dangerous.

In the end it concludes into one thing...

Xavier knows but he doesn't want to limit nor skew MC's views. He wants MC to decide for themselves. I feel this is quite key to the whole "freedom" thing he's got going on too. It's also the same with him and the Backtrackers in WU.

And then it ends off with this 😭

A PROPOSAL?! Nah jk. But it kinda feels like it's finally establishing their relationship for the future (at least in the main story)

Also, also. Interesting thing. In the CN version, Xavier says "我愿意" instead of "I'll always be with you"

Was gonna scream about how it sounds like Xavier is saying "I do"...

But here comes the reality... MC was asking "...if my partner is willing..." which in CN is "我的搭档愿意为此与我。。。"

Xavier is just replying pretty normally ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ can't say that I'm not just a tad bit disappointed that he wasn't being sneaky for once T^T

#churambles #xavier love and deepspace #xavier #shen xinghui #voyage of the outcast spoiler #love and deepspace #love and deepspace spoilers #voyage of the outcast

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asha-mage · 7 months ago

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As someone who has been reading fanfiction for a really really long time I think one of the things I've realized is that what separates a solid time travel Fix it Fic from an excellent one is the author's ability to work through the extended consequences of their changes to canon.

Most Fix-It Fics are ultimately a power fantasy: allowing the characters the fore knowledge and insight to solve either many, or most of, their problems without needing to go through the suffering and agony they do in their canon stories. But like all power fantasy it's enhanced when you work through the cause and effect from the Watsonian point of view, rather then the Doylist point of view. This is because the Doylist point of view- that the author is writing this in order to have a version of canon where a great deal of tragedy and pain for Our Heroes is averted- is assumed. The audience knows what they signed up. It's there on the label: a Fix it Fic.

This means that as long as the author doesn't break that fundamental promise, as long as the audience remains reasonably assured that things will in fact, be fixed, the author can take the story in whatever direction they would like, and the best version of that is to follow the changes out to their logical conclusions from the question 'what would this mean in universe'? That's the Watsonian point of view- what do these changes mean for these characters who are not aware they are in a story- and how does that alter the story their living in?

The villains keep suffering crucial and early defeats where in the original story they had either partial or complete victories? Eventually they are going to change tactics or figure out that something more is going on. Character death that served as a Huge Deal to other characters is averted? Well, how do they proceed in absence of that death impacting their characters? If it taught Our Heroes not to be arrogant or assumed victory, or about he power of the bad guys, or in just some facts about how dangerous the world they live is- well eventually they are going to need to learn those lessons anyways, and how does that come about now?

And then you have our erstwhile Time Traveler- who by chance or choice has taken it upon themselves to fix everything. What does that do their sense of self? It's an objectively immense burden to taken on their shoulders, likely on top of whatever burden their already carrying. Are they going to become arrogant and overconfident after a few early victories and thus be caught off guard when things start to go off the rails again? Are they going to develop even More of a Savior Complex since they clearly have all the answers, it is their duty to fix everything, and anything that goes wrong is their failure right? Or are they going to become frustrated that no one knows how much blood sweat and tears their putting in to giving everyone a happy ending- even though no one asked them too? If they where brought back by some future calamity or bad/end, are they going to have attachment issues? Problems seeing their friends in danger? Letting others do things for themselves?

And the things the answers to these question don't have to be tragedy and angst fuel (and they probably shouldn't be, again that fundamental promise to the audience of a fix it fic)- but they are worth asking if you want to take your story from 'solid' to 'excellent'.

#about me #fanfiction #fanfic #Writing #writblr #....I may have been reading a lot of JJK fic these last few days okay

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waitingtobebroken · 11 months ago

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Orchids Over The Arno

Tags: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens); Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens); Mutual Pining; Friends With Benefits; with feelings; The Arrangement (Good Omens); Part 2; Pining while fucking; Angst; Slow Burn; Porn with Feelings; Porn Contextual: Body Worship; Coming Untouched; Gentle Sex; Mutual Masturbation; Hand Jobs; Laughter During Sex; Begging; Oral Sex; First Time Blow Jobs; but also: Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens); Crowley is Whipped (Good Omens); Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens); Smitten Crowley (Good Omens); Crowley's Love Language is Acts of Service (Good Omens)

Rating: Explicit

Words: 6,056

Summary:

Florence 1895 A few years after their fight and Crowley's nap, Aziraphale needs to go to Florence for a blessing. And Crowley follows after him because... Well, because Florence is an amazingly romantic city and he wants to explore it with his angel. Not that they see much of the city anyway. A bonus chapter for "Flowers From The Grave Of Our Friendship" which takes place after chapter 4, but can also be read as a stand-alone.

For those in need of a reminder (as it has been 3 years after all!), Flowers From The Grave Of Our Friendship is an Aziraphale and Crowley through the ages story, but they sleep together in Rome 41AD and manage to completely misinterpret each other's feelings. A lot of misunderstanding, angst and pining while fucking follows! They share one brain cell and it does not work most of the time, unfortunately!

This bonus chapter deals with the fallout of their fight after Crowley asks for the Holy Water and then proceeds to take a nap for 27 years after Aziraphale refuses to help him. While Crowley is sleeping, Aziraphale thinks something horrible happened to the demon and once he sees him, he has a bit of a breakdown. With the memory of that still fresh in his mind, Crowley finds it easier to delude himself Aziraphale does want him (not that he needs to but...) and he lets himself show his feelings a lot more than he usually does.

My contribution to the @goodomensafterdark Smut Wars

#good omens #gomens #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #aziraphale x crowley #aziracrow #good omens fanfic #ineffable smut war #good omens after dark #6000 years of pining #my writing

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midwestmade29 · 1 year ago

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Rekindled ❤️

(A continuation of "Broken Promise")

To Anonymous: Thank you for reading my original story and for your request! It makes me so happy knowing you enjoyed it 🥹 I know my story is pretty lengthy, but it covers a lot of ground! I had so much fun writing it 🖤

Original Anonymous Request: "I absolutely loved that last fic! Anyway we can get something where the two end up reconnecting, rekindling, and end up together in the end after Christian’s divorce? I feel like even though they had a rough relationship growing up, you can’t tell me they aren’t soulmates. You can’t tell me this man had secretly loved here since they were young and didn’t realize it until she got into her high school and college era. I love this so much dude 😩🫶🏼❤️"

Disclaimers: Anger, physical altercation, fighting (verbally), cursing, angst. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 2,682

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Side note: This story is officially complete. I won't be adding anything else to it. You can read the first part of the story here and also the prequel to the story here! Thanks for following along 🖤

Adam noticed that you had been MIA again for the last half hour of your party. He knew you couldn’t have gotten far, so he started searching the house for you. He was about to knock on your bedroom door, his fingers already against the wood but he stopped when he heard you crying. His heart sank as he stood and listened to your cries turn into sobs! When he couldn’t take it any longer, he opened your door just a crack and spoke softly, “Hey, sis. What’s wrong? Can I come in?” You were curled in a ball on your bed with your face buried in your hands, but you managed to let out a pathetic “yes” in response. He came and sat at the foot of your bed, fidgeting while trying to figure out how to proceed with your conversation. “Did something happen at the party? Talk to me, sis,” he prodded. When you sat up and looked your brother in the eyes, the flood gates opened, words and tears flowing freely, leaving you out of breath by the time you were finished. It was obvious the more you carried on, the more Adam’s anger grew. His hands were balled into fists that rested on his thighs and his jaw was clenched so tightly you don’t know how his teeth didn’t break! You didn’t go into every detail about the relationship you and Christian had before, sparing him the part about losing your virginity to him, but everything else was no longer a secret. Hurt flashed in his eyes when you apologized for not telling him sooner, leaving you wishing that you could take it all back and rewrite the past. In between sniffles you peered over at your brother who was clearly conflicted on how to feel about the situation, and he damn near exploded when you asked him what he was thinking. With every word he said, his voice became more elevated, “What am I thinking? WHAT am I thinking right now? I’m thinking about how my baby sister and my best friend kept this huge secret from me for 2 years. I’m thinking about how stupid I am for not seeing how things really were that summer. I must be going fucking blind and need to get my eyes checked! I’m trying to come up with a reason not to kill that blonde son of a bitch with my bare hands right now! He not only made you cry again, but he broke a promise. That’s unacceptable in my book."

You begged and pleaded with Adam to calm down when he jumped up off your bed and darted out the door in search of Christian. Rage was radiating off him as he checked behind every door, looking for his best friend around every corner in the house before finding him sitting outside on the front porch. The loud thud the door made when Adam threw it open made everyone jump! “What the hell, man? You alright?” Christian asked as he stood up. Adam walked over to him and got mere inches away from his face and shouted, “No, dumbass! I’m not alright! I know about you and my little sister. I know all about the summer you shared!” Christian’s eyes darted between yours and your brother’s, unsure of how to proceed. You pulled on Adam’s arm trying to get him to come back inside, but he brushed you off. Your brother’s chest was rising and falling rapidly with each shallow breath he took, the veins in his forehead protruding while he waited for Christian to say something. “Look, Adam we were going to tell you. Time just got away from us, and our relationship was over at the end of the summer anyways. It’s in the past now,” he explained, but Adam wasn’t having any of it. Your brother shoved Christian once, making him stumble back a little before shoving him again and again. “You’ve had 2 years to tell me asshole! How could you keep something like that from me, man?! And why my baby sister? Why her?!” Christian grew more irritated the more Adam jabbed his finger into his chest, and the atmosphere quickly became more tense. You knew you had to try and separate the two of them and you gave it your best effort when you cried out, “Please, Adam! Go back in the house and try to calm down. You’re not thinking straight right now, and I don’t want this to get any worse. I’m begging you! Please!” Something made Christian snap, one could blame it on Adam’s harsh words or his death stare, but what came out of Christian’s mouth next knocked the wind right out of you without even being touched, “You make it sound like this was all my doing! Y/N isn’t innocent in all this you know! It takes two to tango and boy did we tango a lot that summer!”

You weren’t sure what was louder, Adam shouting “YOU FUCKED HER?!” or the sound of his fist connecting with Christian’s face. One punch led to two and eventually both men ended up rolling around on the ground! After Christian landed a couple punches of his own on your brother’s face, he had him pinned to the ground. It didn’t last long though since Adam’s 6’5 frame overpowered him! Your brother’s voice was eerily calm when he spoke again and you could see the anguish written on his face, “First you take my little sister’s innocence, then you break the promise you made the both of us! Not to mention you kept all of this from me. Go fuck yourself.” He let go of Christian as he stood up and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. He immediately clutched his ribcage as pain radiated from the area, and winced when he touched the giant goose egg that was already forming on his forehead. Christian didn’t look any better while he laid on the ground groaning and trying to catch his breath. No further words were shared between any of you that night. Everything that did- and didn’t- need to be said was already out in the open. When your mother caught wind of the situation, she was thankful no one was seriously injured and that no one in the neighborhood called the police. Later on, you looked out the front window and noticed Christian was no longer there. He must’ve gone to his parent’s house when he was finally able to peel himself off the ground. You didn’t see Christian again after that night. Your brother didn’t talk to you for weeks after everything went down the way it did. You called him hundreds of times and sent countless text messages, but you never got a reply. You apologized and begged him to talk to you in every voicemail you left him. Eventually you got the hint and gave him the time and space he needed even though it hurt like hell not being able to talk to your big brother. You could only hope that what they say is true, “time heals all wounds.”

1 year later ⏭️

Almost a month after the fight happened, Adam started talking to you again! The two of you had several long and difficult conversations about everything that went on the night of your graduation party and the summer you and Christian spent together. While things felt like they were back to normal, you knew deep down inside that your relationship with your brother had been altered a little bit. You were shocked to learn that Christian was the one to call Adam and make amends with him! They somehow worked through everything and rekindled their friendship. He even asked Adam to be the best man at his wedding!

“You know you’re invited too,” your mom’s voice startled you when she walked into the kitchen unannounced. You had been staring at Christian’s wedding invitation that seemed to mock you every time you approached the fridge. It took everything in you not to yank it down and rip it to shreds! “There’s no way I’m going! It must’ve been an oversight on someone’s part including my name on it. Do me a favor, don’t write my name on the wedding card you got them.”

Christian’s big day had eventually come and gone, and you made sure to avoid hearing anything about it. One day when you were in the checkout line at the grocery store, a magazine cover caught your eye. You tossed it in the cart when you noticed who was on the front and looked over it in your car. You sat in the parking lot for a good 30 minutes crying over the stunning picture of Christian and his new bride. You read over the article more times than you should’ve, eyes skimming over the words that described every detail of their grand affair. Your heart was aching by the time you tossed the magazine into the backseat, the realization settling in that you and Christian were nothing more than a long-gone memory.

Over the next several years, Adam’s popularity in the professional wrestling world continued to skyrocket. He was definitely a fan favorite! While you enjoyed watching him achieve his career goals and dreams, your favorite thing he accomplished was marrying his wife and giving you two beautiful nieces. Seeing him this happy meant the world to you, and you could only hope that you would find the same happiness one day too. You were thriving in your own ways, having a successful career of your own, a great group of friends that you adore, checking things off your bucket list left and right, and spending time with your mom every chance you got. You focused on the things that really mattered to you and embraced your independence! As far as you knew, Christian and his wife were doing well but you hadn’t heard anything about them in a long time. Even though you tried to forget him, the memories of growing up together and falling in love with him crept in your mind from time to time. There had been several guys that tried to pursue you over the years, but none of them ended up capturing your heart the way that Christian did. You had been in one long term relationship that helped ease the sting of loneliness, but you knew it wasn’t fair to keep them around when your heart still longed for someone else. You eventually let them go, and the sadness in their eyes when you told them it was over still haunts you to this day.

For Adam’s last match before he officially retired, he wanted you and your mom ringside along with his wife and your nieces to cheer him on! You were hesitant at first to do it, but you agreed when your brother reassured you that Christian wouldn’t be there due to having other obligations. Everything with Adam’s match went well and it was over in the blink of an eye! All 5 of you girls cried when the referee gave the final 3 count as Adam laid in the center of the ring. During the commercial break he walked over and hugged each of you and thanked you all for loving him and supporting him all this time. The company he worked for was throwing him a party after the show was off the air, and once it began, he was being pulled in every direction as more and more people wanted to congratulate him. Your mom was with your nieces at the dessert table while your sister-in-law mingled with some of the female wrestlers. You found yourself alone standing at a tall cocktail table sipping on your drink, just taking in the different sights and sounds of the party. Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw someone standing near your table, but when you turned to get a better look, they were gone. You brushed it off and returned your gaze to the party. “Come join us aunt Y/N!” your nieces called out to you from the dance floor. You weren’t really in the mood to dance, but what kind of aunt would you be to decline such a sweet invitation?

“Again! Again!” your nieces cheered as you twirled them around simultaneously! The song playing was upbeat and fun and you were enjoying laughing and smiling with your favorite little girls. All too soon it started to fade out and was replaced by a slow song instead. Everyone except for a few couples left the dance floor, and you were on your way back to your table when an old familiar voice stopped you in your tracks, “Hey, Y/N. It’s…been a long time.” Christian’s greeting instantly took you back to the night of your graduation party when he addressed you the same way. Your stomach did a flip when you turned and took in the sight of him. He was still as handsome as ever; time had clearly treated him well! Your reply was shy and quiet as his blue eyes bore into you, “Hi, Christian…” He cleared his throat before speaking again, clearly just as nervous as you were being face to face after all this time. “Um, would you like to dance?” he asked sheepishly. You were hesitant at first, but the way he was looking at you made your resolve fade and the next thing you knew; you had your arms wrapped around his neck and the two of you were swaying along with the music.

A few moments passed in silence, the both of you unsure of what to say but Christian eventually spoke up, “You look great, Y/N. How are you?” His compliment made a small smile form in the corner of your mouth which made him smile too. “I’m fine, thank you. But um, what are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t make it tonight. If you haven’t already, you’ll have to find Adam! I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you,” you replied. “I decided being here for Adam was more important that my original plans. I watched the match from backstage. I was also hoping you would be here. It’s good to see you, Y/N.” His last few words made you blush, but the pink that covered your cheeks faded away when you remembered an important detail, Christian is married! You dropped your arms from around his neck causing concern to envelop his handsome features. “Where’s your wife?” you asked, even though you didn’t want to know the answer. His response shocked you, “Actually, we’re divorced. Everything was finalized a few months back. Marrying her was a mistake and it’s something I deeply regret. I had no idea what I was doing back then and I sure as hell don’t know what I’m doing right now, but I had to see you Y/N. Over the years I probably asked Adam and your mom about you more than I should’ve, but it made me happy knowing that you were doing so well. I never stopped thinking about you, not even once! I’m sorry it took me so long to realize what an idiot I am. I just hope I’m not too late.”

It had been 4 months since Adam’s retirement party. 4 months since that night ended with Christian asking you if he could see you again. 4 months since you and your soulmate rekindled your love for one other. It’s been quite the journey to get to this point, but you’re so thankful you and Christian found your way back to each other. Everyone knew that it wouldn’t be long before Christian would propose to you, and you couldn’t wait to be his wife! When the time comes for you to recite your vows to one another, Christian would be making a new promise to you that he would continue to love you for the rest of your lives and the tears he will make you cry that day will be tears of pure joy.

#christian cage #jay reso #captain charisma #instant classic #christian4peeps #aew #all elite wrestling #fanfiction #fanfic #christian cage fanfic #christian cage fanfiction #aew fanfiction #christian cage x y/n #christian cage x you #christian cage x reader #request #SoundCloud

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canonmisogynyvictimstournament · 1 year ago

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PROPAGANDA

KENDRA YOUNG (BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER/ANGEL THE SERIES) (CW: Racism)

1.) Kendra was shafted due to a combination of misogyny and racism. She is a Jamaican young woman who enters the narrative to serve as a foil for Buffy, the main character. Her backstory is one-dimensional and her personality is one-note. (Rather than exploring what it might be like to be a teenager growing up in Jamaica, facing the same Chosen One fate as Buffy in a different setting, they just made her robotically devoted to the idea of being a slayer with no other traits.) She exists purely as a comparison for one issue that Buffy is encountering during this time in the story. As soon as Buffy worked through this issue to the writer’s satisfaction, Kendra was removed from the story (i.e., was killed by being outsmarted, hypnotized, and then executed by a villain). During her brief life, she was subjected to the trope that when two women are in the same story they have to hate each other and see each other as rivals, despite the fact that this makes so sense with either of their characterization. She is MUCH less fleshed out than the vast majority of other characters in the story and her narrative role is eventually replaced with a far more complexly written white woman (proving that they could have done all this interesting stuff with Kendra in the first place??? but chose to kill her off instead.)

2.) She was introduced as a foil to the protagonist and set up as being an important new addition to the cast whose very existence in the show completely altered the status quo and she had a really interesting dynamic with the protagonist and a compelling backstory and a lot of potential for some great character development and to provide a new point of view and there was just generally so much potential there AND THEN THEY KILLED HER OFF AFTER LIKE THREE EPISODES AND NEVER MENTIONED HER AGAIN. FUMING. (also she was like. the only major woman of colour on the show at least for the majority of the show’s run. so y'know that fucking sucks)

anyway I think this post really sums up how badly she got screwed over:

3.) Okay, so I had more been considering her a victim of racism, but let’s call it misogynoir. Aside from the sexist origin she shares with all the slayers - some men got together to imbue Woman with power against her will which they would then oversee and manage for their own purposes and according to their own interests- she has been trained for slaying from childhood and yet she is killed pretty quickly after entering the story for the purposes of a white girl’s angst and character development (and in fact her character only exists for this purpose)… by a fingernail. A powerful, well-trained, competent and bad-ass girl is killed because she didn’t lean back one inch further fast enough. IIRC there’s also sexism and racism in the way she is portrayed as kind of naive about the normal world and Buffy has to show her how to be a normal teenager.

KATHERINA MINOLA (THE TAMING OF THE SHREW) (CW: Domestic Abuse)

1.) We had to read this for English my senior year. I got so mad at the way she’s treated. She’s the titular “shrew” of the play. She has to be married off before her younger sister can get married, because that makes sense.

Then the most dogshit man imaginable comes along, and everybody thinks they’re perfect. He literally gaslights her and denies her food and water.

Fuck Petruchio and Katherine Minola deserved better!

2.) Literally the whole play is about how she is so awful that the main guy needs to change her entire personality, which he does as a challenge not because he likes her, and then proceeds to her abuse her for the rest of the play. Yet, he is portrayed as the hero, not a villain and she is shown to have “improved” at the end. People will say, oh it’s open to interpretation, it can be played different ways, it’s satire, but i don’t find abuse funny and there is a distinct lack of commentary in the play to count as satire imo. Taming of the Shrew is a tragedy not a comedy, I will die on this hill. Kate deserves better!

3.) The title isn’t joking, ya’ll. She literally gets broken like a rebellious feral animal and it’s treated as a happy ending.

#polls #round 2 #week 4 #new #cw racism #cw domestic abuse

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johaerys-writes · 5 months ago

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Hello! I was wondering what movies, tv, books, anime etc. you are into?

Hi! Oh that's such a broad question. I could be here talking all day about my favourite media, so instead I'll pick a few from each category, either a recent favourite or an all time favourite.

Books: RotE by Robin Hobb is an all time fave, especially the Fitz and Fool trilogies (although they break my heart 😭). A more recent favourite is Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson. Another all time fave is Tehanu by Ursula K. Le Guin, I swear I think about this book as I go about my day and it hits me like a gut punch and I want to cry 😭 it's so so good

Anime: my favourite anime of all time that's something of a comfort watch is Darker Than Black. I can’t even explain what I love about it so much, other than the fact that it rewired my brain when I first watched it and it like keeps rewiring it every time I rewatch it lol. It has so many of the elements that I love in stories and it has inspired the hell out of me over the years. Another favourite is Berserk, I've also read the manga which is kind of rare for me to do bc I'm not a fan of manga and comics as much but I just needed to see what happens after the anime left me hanging. It has really had a profound impact on me, I can’t even tell you how often I think about it.

TV: hmm. That's when things get tricky for me because I immediately forget shows I've watched after I'm done watching them 🤣 But some faves over the years have been: Dark (the german netflix drama), War and Peace, Les Miserables (both BBC productions if I remember correctly), Midnight Mass and Midnight Club (GUTTED that it never got a season 2), and another one that I think was really underrated and should also have gotten a second season was Archive 81. Very interesting premise, very atmospheric and spooky, I love eldritch horror stories and that really hit the spot 😩

Films: even MORE tricky if possible bc I'm ten times worse with movies than with shows 🤣 Most of the time after I walk out of the cinema I'm like... well, that was a movie alright, and proceed to forget all about it. But some that have stuck with me over the years are: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, which has been a fave since forever. Also The Notebook had a huuuuge impact on me, I know a lot of people think it's cringe now but I don’t care, I feel like it's part of my brain chemistry lol. Howl's Moving Castle is a comfort watch, and no matter how many times I watch The Big Lebowski I always find something funny. Sin City is also another one of those films that I feel are permanently embedded into my consciousness, I watched it as a teenager and I was shook by the aesthetics and the storylines and have watched it many times since.

Anyway that's just a small selection of my favourite stuff. I guess a lot of what I love in media is angst and drama and like being emotionally intense in places! My favourites tend to be those that really tugged at my heartstrings in some way, and also a lot of them have a darker twist and maybe delve into difficult or uncomfortable subjects.

#thanks for the ask!!#reminded me to revisit some of those

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cosmicluzer · 9 months ago

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hi asking about ur Gross wip in the hopes that the song fic title is from the song i know that is titled “Gross” also 👀

if you are thinking penelope scott’s gross then you are thinking correct lol. kind of hoping you are - that song is one of my personal favorites hehe. kinda sad if it is - the original idea got warped into something WAY more fluffy than gross is, but never fear bc that song will return with its intended angst wether i have to force myself to write it or not.

anyways, you probably won’t have toooo much interest in it, seeing as it isn’t for sp. it’s a one piece (live action bc i love them) fanfic, because i am a liar and a fandom hopping fraud. I was scrolling through my yt shorts one day and stumbled upon that one “you dated brutal dictator of Nicaragua?!” meme and my brain went: “oh. i can do something with this. Small snippet under the cut ;P

REMINDER THAT THIS IS A WIP AND A ROUGH DRAFT AND THAT I KINDA SUCK AT WRITING OK OK GOOD NOW PROCEED WITH CAUTION

Sanji is washing the dishes, the rest of the crew sitting at the dining table conversing. He flits in and out of the conversation, adding bits here and there as he continues his task. The day is peaceful, and Sanji feels at rest.

Nami sits, legs crossed over the top of the chair next to her - Zoro’s - with the newspaper propped into her lap. Zoro sits in his chair, slouching against it and looking mildly annoyed at Nami’s legs at the back of his chair but not saying a word about it. Across the table is Usopp, tinkering on seas knows what, and Luffy, content in gnawing through a bundle of fish jerky Sanji made earlier that morning.

The breeze is light, floating through the open windows and door. The sunshine shines brightly through into the galley, and with the crew this docile together it’s, well… peaceful, like he’s said before.

Of course, that’s when they decide to throw the conversat into a depth Sanji is thoroughly avoiding, and has been since six months after… that.

“Usopp, how long were you and Kaya together?” Luffy asks, interrupting Usopp’s story - one about Kaya, and those were the closest you can get to the truth from him.

Usopp pauses at the words, face going slightly red as he sputters out a reply.

“W-Well, Luffy, the great captain Usopp speaks not of the mountains of women he’s conquered! It is not befitting to-“

“They weren’t together,” Nami says, looking at Usopp with an unsurprised look. “He’s too chicken for that.” With that, she turns her attention back to her newspaper, flipping the page and reading it off.

“Hey-!”

“Did you ever have someone like Usopp didn’t have Kaya?” Luffy asks, because the kid can’t read a room. Usopp lets out an offended noise, and Nami doesn’t even look up from the paper as she speaks next.

“Nope, no time for that.”

Luffy hums, looking over the table. He goes to speak, most likely to ask the question to Zoro, but the green-headed swordsman interrupts him.

“No, Luffy. That’s not my style. Why not ask cook?” Zoro’s tone turns from unamused to smug, and he smirks. He turns in his seat to face Sanji, who has gone back to vigorously scrubbing the plate in his hand as he hopes to be kept out of the conversation. “He’s seen the most people, he must have great stories.”

Sanji turns, sneering at Zoro, before he grabs the next plate and gets to scrubbing.

“Sanji! Tell me a story!” Luffy shouts from his spot, getting excited. Nami turns her attention from her newspaper, looking mildly intrigued. Sanji sighs.

“No. I gave you food, occupy yourself.” Sanji shouts over his shoulder, and Luffy pouts.

“C’mon, Sanji. You must have a good story for us.” Nami says, trying to bait him into it. Everyone turned to face him, Usopp and Luffy putting on their best puppy dog eyes in hopes for some entertainment. Sanji pauses his fish washing, considering before shaking his head and turning around.

“I’m sorry, Nami dearest, but there truly is nothing for me to discuss on this topic. There has been nobody of notice in that area of my life, and besides, a gentleman does not kiss and tell.” He says, using a tone of remorse. Nami quirks an eyebrow at him, face going from casual to interested.

“Was that a lie, Sanji-san?” Nami asks, face breaking out into an amused smirk.

Of fucking course the brilliant redhead would see through his lie. He sighs, admitting defeat.

“You truly are too clever for your own good, my swan.” He says, moving to the table and sitting in an empty seat. The other three males look at him with varying degrees of surprise - it is very out of character for Sanji to lie to the crew let alone Nami, a woman.

“Sanji, share!” Luffy whines, wanting to hear what could possibly be such a grandiose secret to Sanji that he’d hide it.

“Be quiet, Luffy, I’m thinking of where to start.”

“How about the beginning, curly.” Zoro says, and Sanji so wants to ring the other man’s throat for being so smug. Instead, he takes a deep breath.

“Alright,” Sanji exhales, grabbing at the pack of cigs in his pocket and the lighter sitting near them. He knows he’ll need a cigarette to get through this. “So this story starts about five years ago…”

#reply #ao3 #one piece #opla #fanfiction #current wip

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skzfairyy · 2 years ago

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District 9: Chapter 10

Mafia!AU || skz x OC’s || PG-17 ||

Pairings: Bangchan x oc, Minsung x oc, other pairings to come!

Genre: Angst, Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Humor, AU (& so much more lol)

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, weapons, language

Status: Ongoing

Wc: 1.8k words

AN: OKAY, so this chapter is way overdue... like severely lmao. Long story short, I had 3 allergic reactions back to back which took me out for a minute. I’m so sorry guys! (no more random teas for me lol) anyways, here is chapter 10, hope you enjoy! - Y2

The sun sets as they move silently together. By now the academy knows that the girls have defected. Something that was inevitable, they just didn’t know how soon it would be. They’ve made good timing and should make it to China around noon tomorrow. As long as they make it through the night, they should arrive at the coast without a problem. As they move through the trees, using only the light of the moon to guide them, Yura pauses.

She holds her breath, eyes shifting around instantly, all of her senses are on high alert as she scans the dark area in front of them. Rina’s eyes move towards her partner’s, their bodies move together like a well oiled machine, both of them working and training together for years means they can read each other’s body language swiftly without saying a single word.

The girls jump up together, clutching onto a branch of neighboring trees and swinging their bodies upwards. Both make the climb up as quietly as possible while keeping an eye out for the threat below them. Rina removes her favorite suppressed Beretta from a hidden pocket in her bag while Yura’s hand is clutching one of her daggers as they make their way up through the branches. Even with the slight breeze in the air, they’ve managed to hide themselves completely when they finally see movement. Two figures creep through the trees underneath them, dressed in all black bodysuits they each hold their own guns. Their footsteps are deliberate and light when Rina glances at the weapons in their hands, noticing a familiar gold emblem on the side of the pistol.

Academy issued.

Mentally the Choi girl releases a sigh of relief, she’d expected the academy to send more agents, especially since they were supposed to be the face of the school. This was a fight she knew they could get out of in a matter of minutes, 30 minutes tops if she had to count.

Yura’s eyes trace over the figures of the two bodies below. One’s hair is a short black bob at the neck and the other’s is secured in a high ponytail down her back. Covering their faces are the Academy’s uniform masks, watching the way they glided along the forest floor, she knew exactly who stood below them. After the realization, her eyes move to lock in with her sisters.

Yura silently catches her sister’s attention and tilts her head in the direction of the pair tracking them below. Following Yura’s direction, Rina’s eyes fall to where they stand beneath them. Realizing who it is in an instant, she confirms with a nod of her head before moving her focus back to the ground.

With this new information, the gears in her head began to shift. Rina knew now it was about a 70/30 chance that they would get out of the woods alive. The twins might be the top two in the school, but the two trailing them now were numbers 3 and 4. Because of their close ranks, the girls have spent a lot of time together. They experienced amazing victories and harsh punishments together in their time at the Academy, forming a close bond through the years. With the school knowing this information, Rina knew this was Headmaster Chaerin’s way of extending an olive branch before they decided to bring out more lethal methods. Her mind races with different ways to approach this without causing harm to her colleagues, her friends, and though she’d like this to proceed without any bloodshed, she cannot guarantee that outcome confidently.

Knowing not to move without Rina’s signal, Yura watches her sister's face through the leaves. Another familiar look etched on her face with the slightest raise of her brow. Looking, seeing, analyzing. Completely aware of her surroundings, every tree, every bush, her partner across from her, and the blade in her hand with the intention to drive it into any (and every) threat; aware of both girls approaching below them on foot, their training, their orders, every move they make, and every breath they take.

This is Athena.

Yura smirks to herself, always in awe at how fast her sister can come up with a flawless strategy at a moment's notice.

After her glazed eyes retained focus, she looks over and sees Yura already waiting for instruction. She points to the ground, indicating for Yura to go down first, and with a quick twist of her wrist signaling the direction for their course of attack, Yura nods her head with a slight smile, immediately understanding the plan.

Jihyo and Ryujin stop underneath them before talking to each other quietly, the short-haired girl crouches down, examining the spot where Rina stood just a few minutes ago, probably trying to figure out where their tracks stopped. The twins did their best to be careful, but they knew it was only a matter of time before the Academy caught up. The school not only trained the best assassins in Korea, but they ranked number one across the globe. The agents below them were trained to be just as skillful and dangerous as they are, Not to mention Jihyo herself was ranked the Academy’s most skilled tracker for the last three years.

Yura leaps from the tree, though it's a bit far off the ground she lands silently behind them. All it takes is two quick steps and she has Jihyo pinned with her knife at the girl's throat. Ryujin turns quickly at the sound of her partner struggling, making eye contact with her old classmate, seeing the cold glint in Yura’s eyes, Ryujin knew she was dealing with Ares.

“Surprised you were able to catch up to us this fast.” Yura says calmly.

Jihyo’s hand struggles to remove Yura’s from her throat, but ceases immediately when she feels the blade pressing further against her skin. All the shared memories of jokes and compassion for one another are gone from the eyes of 2ne1’s notorious silent killer. Although Ryujin’s gun is aimed at her she pays it no mind. Already knowing that her sister is in the trees above, alert and ready with a clear shot aimed at the girl's head.

And Athena never misses a shot.

The moonlight glints against the tennis bracelet on Yura’s wrist, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jihyo.

“Was all it took for you to defect, some cheap bribes?” Her voice is tight through her mask.

Yura’s emotionless face is silent. Her contradicting emotions battle inside her head as her eyes never leave Ryujin’s face across from her.

“They sent you. Why?” Her words come out more as a statement as she proceeds with Rina’s plan.

“You can’t defect!” Jihyo struggles to say.

“What are you, my mother?” Yura scoffs.

“The academy needs you and you know it!” She continues.

Yura’s irritated eyes travel to the choking girl in her arms.

“What the academy needs is their killing machines, and I’m no longer a part of it. Sending you two to retrieve us was a low blow even for them.”

“We volunteered.” Ryunjin removes her mask and makes a step towards the girl she once called a friend, her gun in hand slowly moving downwards.

“What?” Yura’s eyes snap up to Ryujin’s.

Rina, who was slowly shifting down branch by branch, paused at the girl’s words. She watched Ryujin’s gun lower, but didn’t fail to notice as her other hand grazed her side, retrieving the blade attached to her thigh. The four may be close, but at the end of the day their partner’s lives will always come first. Rina knew this better than anyone, especially with Ares present. Despite Yura doing her best to hold herself back for the sake of her friends, the eldest Choi knew she had to act quickly.

Jihyo takes Yura’s shock tone as an opening and attempts to flip her attacker, but instead is greeted with a tighter grip, causing a bit of blood to run down her neck. Ryujin hears the slight struggle and throws the blade in her hand.

A bullet is fired out from behind Ryujin at the same time, knocking the blade to the ground before it could land its intended target.

“Shouldn’t have done that Ry.”

A voice from behind her says quietly, Rina finally makes her appearance from the tree’s shadows, walking up silently and placing the barrel of her own gun flush to the back of the girl's head.

“And you know I never miss my target.” Rina whispers against her ear.

After the initial scare, Ryujin holds her hands up in defeat. Allowing Yura to finally release her captive. Jihyo coughs while clutching her wounded neck while moving to stand next to Ryujin, finally removing her own face mask.

Rina removes her own weapon from Ryujin and stands with Yura. The four girls stand across from each other for a moment fully taking in their situation. The twins have known the girls in front of them long enough to know how emotional they could get in sticky situations like this one. Despite the injury, Jihyo’s tears welled in her eyes as she looked at her friends.

“You’re leaving us!” Jihyo cracks out into the silence.

Ryujin continues although her voice holds a slight tremble as she speaks.

“We volunteered to retrieve you ourselves, leaving our earpieces somewhere in the stream we stumbled upon a while ago.” She starts, “You’re our seniors, our closest friends- you can’t leave us in that hell alone. We signed the oath together…and y-... and you didn’t even say goodbye. ” She finishes with her own tears beginning to creep in her eyes.

The twins’ gaze drifts to each other briefly, Yura does nothing but shrug, crossing her arms in silence.

“You don’t even care.” Jihyo is quick to assess Yura’s stance, a scoff coming out of her mouth at the sight.

“Of course, we care, Jihyo.” Rina is quick to rebuttal.

“We’re just not going back.” Yura says matter of factly.

Her eyes glanced over them, but her face held no emotion.

“We’ve done terrible things, things that have to be righted.”

Rina nods her head in agreement.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t come back for you.”

The girls in front of them are confused.

“We can’t tell you when because honestly, we don’t know ourselves. What we do know is that if you cover for us, we'll come back for you.” Yura states, her pinky held out in front of them.

An old gesture that has followed the four classmates from childhood. Ryujin is quick to take it, locking her finger tightly as they press their thumbs together. Jihyo and Rina stand the same. This was another difficult goodbye for the Choi girls, they all had shared a million memories together, both new experiences and hellish nightmares from the Academy that will live with them for the rest of their lives. In the end, Ryujin and Jihyo understood what their friends were doing, something they too thought about on occasion, but never had the strength to act on it themselves. With this promise, they’ll finally be able to.

“We’ll buy you time.” Jihyo states, “You must hurry. Go!”

The twins nod, looking their two friends over one last time before taking off further into the woods towards the coast.

taglist: @toalltheunknown, @skzloveforever, @ryak14

Y2K masterlist || series masterlist || last || next

#y2kstories #skz #straykids #skz x oc #skz x reader #kpop #bangchan x oc #bangchan #changbin #lee know #jisung #minsung x oc #minsung #skz mafia au #mafia au

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myownwholewildworld · 3 months ago

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okay i don't even know where to begin with this??? i read this chapter nice and slow because i just needed to soak it in being the finale - and it's now past my bedtime BUT no regrets. zilch. nil. zero. cero patatero.

excuse all my babbling but i need to take this all off my chest otherwise i am NOT sleeping tonight :D

i just love how the story was set up, how they kept coming close but never quite, so it got me on my tiptoes wondering "will this be the one?" but that's life really - full of surprises, of doubt, of fear, of missed chances, of unspoken words, of regret. and this story was so real, so believable, because of it. love is beautiful yet messy too, and this translated the realness of it all so well.

there were a few times where i died and then came back to life like mulan's mushu:

jokes aside, this, the whole series, is a masterpiece. the writing was impeccable and so were the world building, the characterisation, the dialogue, the internal turmoil.

i'm just so chuffed that they ended up together, because i was close to having an arrhythmia towards the end HAHAHA i'm a sucker for happy endings so this will most deffo be my comfort fic forever t.t

ANYWAYS i am leaving some more thoughts that i wrote down as i was reading because i just don't know any better c:

first, me when i read “infidelity” and “angst with a happy ending” in the tags:

“You have four years of chores to make up for.”

YOU TELL HIM BABE 😭

When you rush from the back, bag slung over one shoulder, his barstool sits empty. Nothing left in it but the ghost of a person you’re starting to worry might not even be your friend, not in the real way, the right way, but in that skin-splitting way where you call someone you haven't spoken to in years my friend from high school. Permanent, yes. But not current. Past.

i was punching the air here. WHAT THE FUCK JAVIER? COME BACK AND SIT YOUR ASS DOWN. this whole paragraph shattered me and was this close 🤏 to violence.

He’s moved to a small, square table by the clouded windows, a drink on top across from him, waiting for you.

okay sorry i might have overreacted a little.

Or, not where you got it right, but got it differently, because it’s not that in this one you’ve gotten it wrong. But there must be worlds where you love each other in the same way at the same time.

my heart clenched so badly i almost dialled 999 thinking i was having a heart attack.

“No, baby, celebrating you.” […] “Gettin’ married.”

<proceeds to throw a rock at javi, then tackles reader to the floor> COME ON NOW.

“Mateo,” you say again, louder now. “What happened to not wantin’ a reunion?”

not the groomsman she fucked 😭 yeah girl what happened to that eh?

Only when you crawl in on Mateo’s side of the bed do you realize that for two years you’ve let your future spouse sleep on the side of the bed you’ve always favored. For as long as you’ve known Javier, he’s slept on the left and you the right. Or you always did before. Slipping back into your side after two years on the opposite doesn’t feel strange, to your surprise. It probably ought to. But this way, all it takes for Javier to have a place in your bed is for you to give yours up like you’ve merely been keeping it warm. Waiting for his return.

honestly this whole moment was so sweet but so heartbreaking because you can literally taste her yearning. never let mateo sleep on that side of the bed because it was javi’s side.

Maybe that’s some version of you, though you’re certain he never looked at you quite like that. Never with so much obvious meaning. Not that you remember, anyway.

he did 🥺 someone tell her he did! he does!

You swallow and push into the crowd. Just have to find your friends, get another drink in your hand and the ghosts will wipe away. You pass Javier at sixteen, at nineteen, at twenty-three. There he is on that lost New Year’s Eve, perfect in his blazer and stealing gold champagne.

this? perfection. nothing to add, your honour.

“Javi,” you mumble. “But you’re good?”

SHUT UP JAVI, LET THE WOMAN TALK, SHE HAD SOMETHING IMPORTANT TO SAY, I KNOW IT

His forehead drops to yours, flushed and so fucking heavy as you cradle his cheeks, thumbs stroking his fallen face. “You sh’d hate me,” he sighs, close enough to hear him swallow. To feel his dread drumming in your own skull. To feel his ruin like it’s crumbling you, and you don’t know why.

i was crying actual tears at this point. you could feel the agony emanating from these two so raw, so fresh. AH, the angst, the lovely angst.

Neither of you are saying it. Neither of you will. But you both know what made you take a jackhammer to your fucking life—say goodbye to a good man, send him running three states off to get the hell away from you—and you both know it’s sitting on your bed like he belongs there, like it’s his and was never anyone else’s. In some other life, you’re angry. You hate him. You’re bitter for a while.

the way I SCREAMED???? OKAY I THINK MY HEART MIGHT NOT BE BROKEN AFTER ALL?

“Okay,” he says. Sounds strange, you think. Strained.

i know he was holding back tears here, imagining this dress could of been for him, marrying the love of his life c’:

This drought in the air. Either way, something ends the moment his mouth meets your stomach, however separated your skin.

probs unrelated but my mind jumped to "an end to drought" and i just melted away 🫠 don’t know if this was intentional or not but girl did i swoon!

There’s a kind of pride in his exhaustion—brought about by the effort of undoing you—he carries himself like a man who knows he’s done a good day’s work and earned his rest.

someone give this man his payslip because he has delivered. 🫡

“You need to go,” you tell him, hardly a whisper. Not strong enough to speak a full-volume lie.

okay false alarm my heart is INDEED broken. i leaned back so hard i almost fell backwards. EXCUSE ME? i get her because the fear of losing someone when you’ve just had them is suffocating, but ????? kill me now.

It’s where it always is, beside the scissors and matchbooks and knot of rubber bands saved for rainy days, the aged carton of stale cigarettes, but your eyes catch on something new as it shifts inside the moving drawer.

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP. SHE’S FOUND IT.

“She wanted it saved,” he says, eventually. “For you.”

Never with his head turned in your direction, never appearing to notice you, but here.

i bet he’s noticed her every. single. fucking. time. they’ve crossed paths. i biblically need javi’s pov on this?? maybe? just sayin’ 👀

In an instant, time collapses. A single, brief anomaly. You and Javier are eleven again. Sixteen. Eighteen—trying for the first time—then twenty, then twenty-nine. You are thirty, in the same city. You are fifty-five. You are older than your parents are now. You are wrecked by age.

coming back to this analogy? genius. i just loved the brief reference to their future too.

And Javier does, like he too has waited your whole lives to tell you exactly where he belongs.

i wasn’t joking someone call 999 now. it’s urgent.

I LOVED THIS AND I LOVE YOU FREYA. if this was a book, i'd be snatching it off your hands. like, would really buy this in a heartbeat. i'll be writing letters, emailing, calling and pestering netflix from tomorrow so this whole story becomes canon.

okay bye i'm gonna be a walking corpse tomorrow with less than 5 hours of sleep but mate was it worth it 😃

I'LL CARRY YOU: part III

THE FINAL CHAPTER

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Javier Peña x f!Reader WORD COUNT: 16.4k Content Warnings under the cut in case you wanna avoid spoilers!

SUMMARY: When Javier returns home, for good this time, you must confront what you are to each other after all these years.

read from the beginning | series masterlist | main masterlist

He knows what he’s doing and you hate that it works. You hate that on this fucking day, he’s here. Cheering you up. Taking some of the weight without you having to ask. Trying to get you to smile. Face hidden in your hands, you shake your head again. “Not a fuckin’ chance.” But he knows you better than that, doesn’t he? So he rounds your wrists with his hands and pulls gently, dragging the shield from your expression with a hazing smirk. Morning light is gentler with him here—when you woke just an hour ago the sun through your bedroom curtains was javelin in both eyes, but now the room is rosy as a peach slice, almost kind. Javier, sitting on the foot of your bed that for three weeks you’ve slept in with one half empty, smirks up at you like he’s already won.

READ THE FINAL CHAPTER ON AO3.

dividers by @thecutestgrotto - tag list & some mutuals below!

CW: Drinking, mutual pining, lethal yearning. Allusion to canon-typical violence and death. Reference to the death of a parent. Infidelity. Smut (piv, f!oral, creampie).

@pedritosgfreal @thundermartini @guiltyasdave @jolapeno @reluctanthalfwayoptimism

@myownwholewildworld @sunnytuliptime @indiegirlunited @anoverwhelmingdin @pedrospatch

@bergamote08 @harriedandharassed @casssiopeia @sweetpascal @half-moon16

@noisynightmarepoetry @theoraekenslover @luxurychristmaspudding @kyberblade @toomanytookas

@itsokbbygrl @wannab-urs @milla-frenchy @yopossum @beezusvreeland

@katw474 @bluesweaters15 @jessthebaker @encasedinobsidian @ppascalrain

@yxtkiwiyxt @schnarfer @bbyanarchist @amanitacowboy @iknowisoundcrazy

@whiskeyneat-coffeeblack @missladym1981 @ro-nahime-things @helenanell @for-a-longlongtime

#fic rec #javier peña x reader #i'm also devastated by the fact that this story is over #however that thought has not sunk in yet properly so for now i'm just giddily happy and kicking my feet #but its okay because whenever i feel that void in my heart i can just come back here and read it all over again until i cry myself to sleep #gonna be ruminating on this for a few days then give it another read

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bronte-deserves-better · 6 months ago

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@winterfireice thank you for your enthusiasm in the tags I will now proceed to be extremely normal about trans keeper.

Anyone who has read the Ancillary series knows that I'm insane about Bronte-Tiergan-Sophie parallels, and anyone who has followed this blog for more than 30 seconds knows that I'm generally insane about Bronte, so buckle up.

I think in a lot of ways even in the canon series, Bronte sees Sophie as sort of a younger version of himself. He thinks that Sophie could be a Councillor someday, and they share the same ability. Sophie being trans (especially transmasc which is how I headcanon Bronte) would really serve to further this.

(Before embarking on the rest of this ramble, I think I should clarify that I generally see the Lost Cites as being fairly homophobic and transphobic, as evidenced by the fairly western gender roles seen in the series and the inherent homophobia of the matchmaking system. Also, I'll be initially referring to Sophie with she/her for parts that are canon to the books, and then as them in later parts of this ramble which focus more on how their trans identity could be narratively interesting.)

Anyways as is very evident in the latest installment in the Ancillary series, I've put a lot of focus into transgender parallels and cycles of trauma. To a great degree, I see Sophie and Bronte's dynamic as representative of cycles of abuse, even without factoring in the transgender part of their relationship. Bronte's ability was intensely traumatic for him as a teenager, and then he enacts a lot of trauma onto Sophie when she first manifests and he's forced to mentor her. He has a lot of unresolved anger and grief over his ability and the way he was treated by his own mentor, which leads him to reproduce that trauma with Sophie. It's only when he has his full breakdown in book 3 (3? I havent read the series in too long) and Sophie doesn't condemn him for what she sees in his mind- that pain that he's been carrying for so long- that he starts to consider that he was wrong.

How does being transgender come into this? We're getting there! Essentially, I think that Sophie and Bronte both being transgender actually fits really well into the existing themes of trauma and cycles of abuse embodied by their story. Being transgender in an transphobic world is inherently a traumatic experience (I should know lol). Similar to the themes in Chiral, I think the dynamic of Bronte, who's struggled a lot with his own gender growing up into the transphobic elven society, wanting to be a good mentor to Sophie and support them through gender struggles but also struggling with his own internalized transphobia really interesting. He sees himself in them a lot, and that isn't always a good thing, because Bronte has been deeply hurt just by existing as himself in this world. At the same time, he wants to support them and make sure that they have it a little bit easier than he did growing up.

So basically, from a narrative standpoint, them both being transgender furthers the Sophie-Bronte narrative parallels and the narrative of cycles of abuse and trauma that I think is very prevalent even in canon keeper. I also just find the Sophie-Bronte mentorship dynamic really interesting overall, and I think them both being transgender adds a lot of interesting layers to it. Additionally, we get the angst of Bronte wanting to protect them from some of what he lived through while not entirely being able to, and Sophie seeing what their future might be like in Bronte, who is old and scarred and tired. Maybe Sophie coming out even inspires Bronte to start trying to slowly change the Council's policy on trans elves and make a better world. Anyways, I love them.

sophie should be a little transgender. as a treat.

#sophie foster #councillor bronte #kotlc #kotlc headcanons #queer headcanons

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you-are-my-joy · 2 years ago

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Song Bird | 02

Title: Song Bird

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Genre: Angst, Romance, Fluff, Slow burn

Characters: Siren!Reader, Human!Jin, Human!Yoongi, Human!Hoseok, Human!Namjoon, Human!Jimin, Human!Taehyung, Human!Jungkook

Word count: 7.3k

Summary: Sirens have been hunted for centuries. Imprisoned and killed for experimentation or to be used for their powers. When thinking about sirens, most envision half woman half fish. But what most people don’t know is that the true original sirens were half woman half bird. Beings far more powerful than the water sirens that most people know of. Beings so rare that many people believe they never existed. But they do. So if word got out that one was sighted and found… it’s only a matter of time before their lives no longer belongs to them, but to their captures.

Warning: May contain depictions of violence and mentions of abuse throughout the story.

Masterlist

<<previous | ♡ | next >>

The first thing you hear when sleep begins to fade away is the sound of knocking on your door. You groan at the consistent pounding, turning over to bring a pillow over your head in hopes of drowning out the sound.

You vaguely hear someone go “I think she’s awake now,” before your door slowly begins to creak open, allowing the culprit to waltz right in shamelessly.

“Rise and shine birdie!”

You wince, normally your mood would brighten at Hoseok's voice, but when it’s nearly 7 in the morning and you’re woken up harshly by loud sounds… Let’s just say you’re thankful Hoseok can’t read your mind.

He grins down at a blob hidden under the blanket he can only assume is you. He taps on your shoulder, “birdie?” he peers over carefully, “it’s me, your ray of sunshine in the morning.”

“Hoseok I’m about to be your ray of death if you keep talking.”

All he does is chuckle, but nonetheless retracts his hand anyway.

Suddenly you hear another man sigh, “Y/n you can’t exactly threaten a person who would probably find joy in that,” he drones out in an unamused tone.

At the sound of Calvin’s voice, you peek your head from under the covers, “Cal?”

Hoseok looks highly offended at the action, “oh so you’ll look over for him but I’m the one getting death threats,” he exclaims with a bewildered expression, “this is favoritism!”

You roll your eyes, “yup it sure is.” You then proceed to ignore the noise that comes out of his mouth.

You give your full attention to the other man, “please, enlighten me on the reason you woke me up at this ungodly hour,” a slightly agitated tone in your voice.

Calvin raises a brow, “did you forget what day of the week it is?” At the tilt of your head, he just sighs. “It’s training day my dear, as in, it's time to wake up.”

You groan out loudly and raise the covers to hide yourself in retaliation.

You hear Hoseok chuckle and the next second he starts gently tugging your blanket. “Wakey wakey sweetheart.”

“Hoseok I swear I will bite off your finger.”

“Oh, birdie knows how to bite back,” he teases, the grin never once leaving his face as he now starts to play with your exposed hair, “could’ve been really helpful yesterday with your father.”

You pause at that before hesitantly looking over, “You know about that.” The sentence is more of a statement than a question.

Hoseok pauses for a moment, before gently caressing the top of your head as he fixes your bedhair, “everyone knows,” he clarifies with a half smile, “not sure if you know this but you’re everyone’s favorite topic around here,” he teases in hopes of lightening up the mood but when you barely give a reaction his smile slowly begins to fall.

“Don’t worry about it kid, a few of them are on your side,” Calvin tries to reassure but you couldn’t help but raise a brow at his word choice.

“A few of them,” you repeat in a whisper under your breath, but they both heard you loud and clear as they shared a look.

“Y/n, don’t take it personally, it’s just-”

“I’m a siren so everyone’s scared of me, I know, I’ve heard it all too well,” you mumble dejectedly, finally rising up from your bed to start your day.

Hoseok frowns as his eyes follow you, “Birdie-”

“It’s fine,” you interrupt, stretching your arms up in the air, “it’s not anything I’m not used to,” you try to ressaure them by sending them a small smile, but this does nothing to convince them you’re ok.

Even so, Calvin looks to Hoseok, “let’s get going while she gets ready,” he tilts his head to the door before walking out, not even so much as a glance back at you two.

Hoseok hesitates for a moment, standing there as though wanting to say more but turns to leave anyway.

When the door finally closes shut, you heave a sigh letting your shoulders relax. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that everyone knows, seing how rarely anything exciting happens around here. So the moment something does happen, it's like a wildfire with how quick information spreads from person to person.

You shake it off, it’s not like you’d be able to make a difference in people’s minds. To them, you’re a siren, and nothing about that will change.

Reluctantly, you get ready to start your day with a fresh change of clothes. Walking out the door and towards the training ground, you nod your head at the few staff members you run into who bow as they greet you.

Even if they weren’t exactly a fan of your kind, they at least had the decency to acknowledge and respect you as the daughter of their boss. For that, you’re thankful they don’t sneer at you like all the background characters you read about in your fantasy books.

Eventually, you arrive at the training grounds, already dreading the lesson when you find Lucas and Jungkook waving at you.

“Good morning dear, did you have a good night’s rest,” Lucas greets you with a wide smile, albeit too enthusiastic given how early it is in the day.

You shrug your shoulders, “I’ve had better sleep,” you grumble, your eye bags definitely showing how you had a great night's rest.

Jungkook, also looking half awake, can’t help but nod his head in agreement.

Lucas harshly claps his, the loud sudden sound causing you both to flinch. His eyes crinkle in amusement at the way you two are now much more wide awake. “Shall we get started now lady and gent.”

You begin to stretch, preparing your body for what it’s about to endure, “do I have much of a choice?” you ask rhetorically.

Lucas says nothing, but he brings out two pistols and hands it to the both of you. “Today’s shooting day,” he announces with a bright smile.

You groan, “I’m a siren, why must I need to shoot a gun.”

The older man raises a brow, “and when you lose energy what then? You’re completely vulnerable and have no way of defending yourself,” he puts the gun into your hands, “that’s why you learn.”

You can’t bring yourself to disagree.

Jungkook yawns, “can I ask why I’m here then?” He didn’t understand why he was present when it was your training session, so you can imagine how confused he was when Lucas had arrived at his quarters, forcing him to get up bright and early.

“Consider this punishment for what happened at dinner yesterday,” Lucas answers, refusing to look him in the eye.

At that, Jungkook’s mouth drops, “you’re punishing me for that?!”

Your gaze switches between the two in a confused manner, “what happened at dinner?”

“All I did was eat the last piece of cake the pastry chef made!” Jungkook answers with a bewildered look, unable to process in his mind that this was the reason he was being punished.

“You had two plates prior to getting the last one and I had none,” Lucas snaps, finally looking at him with narrowed eyes, pettiness dripping from his voice. “Be thankful this is as far as I’m going.”

Jungkook purses his lips into a straight line, “Sir, I feel as though you’re taking advantage of your status.”

“See me same time tomorrow morning, Jungkook.”

You can’t help but laugh at them, the two somehow always bickering like father and son. You wave your hands between them in hopes of dissipating the tension. “Can we please carry on with the lesson, the faster we get this done the faster I can go back to sleep.”

Lucas eyes you, “our princess sure does love her sleep,” he mumbles but nonetheless nods his head and motions for you to stare straight ahead.

He points ahead, following the direction, your eyes land on questionable painted animals on a wooden stand, “you see those targets?” he continues when both you and Jungkook nod your head. “Those targets will be moving by string and you two are going to compete against each other to see who shoots the most animals.”

At this, you two can’t help but widen your eyes.

“We’re competing?” Lucas nods his head, “I want to see how Y/n handles shooting under pressure,” he explains.

Jungkook can’t help but let out a laugh. “Oh I’m so going to enjoy beating you,” he says cockily.

And that one sentence was enough to spark the competitiveness within you.

You furrow your brows and cocked the pistol, “we’ll see who beats who,” you snap back, wanting to smack the smirk off his lips.

Lucas chuckles and with one blow from his whistle the ‘animals’ begin to move. You don’t even question how or who’s controlling it, your mind was focused on one thing.

You both raise your guns at the same time and all at once you shoot.

Shots ring out within the training grounds with pieces of wood flying in every direction. You don’t keep track of how many you’ve knocked down and you doubt Jungkook is either.

Your eyes just remain trained on any moving object it sees. Though you curse under your breath everytime Jungkook hits the animal you were aiming for. It’s gotten to the point where it seems like he was doing it on purpose to win this competition.

“Don’t get mad at me for winning Y/n dear,” Jungkook manages to shout through the multitude of shots ringing out.

Your eyes narrow dangerously, “don’t get too cocky on me dear, it’s not over just yet.”

And it was like a switch got turned on in your head and all at once your shooting rate seemingly increased, much to Jungkook’s surprise as it became apparent he was struggling to catch up.

Lucas smiles as he watches the scene before him with his arms crossed as he observes the way you hold the gun as well as the way your eyes seemingly calculate your target’s movements to hit them in the right spots.

He takes note of these things, especially your behavior when your mood shifts.

After many ‘animal’ deaths, it seemingly looks like you two demolished every single ‘animal’ Lucas had planned out.

You catch your breath as you turn to look at the older man expectantly. Waiting for him to announce the results.

“There’s still one more kiddos,” Lucas calls out, much to your surprise and disappointment. This causes you two to look back one last time. You narrow your eyes trying to catch a glimpse of the last animal before him but with the way you both react at the same time shows you saw it together.

“A fucking hummingbird?!” you both shout in complete astonishment when you catch sight of the small ‘animal’ moving erratically in the air.

Lucas hums, an amused twinkle shining past his eyes, “a fucking hummingbird,” he repeats in confirmation with a bright smile.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” Jungkook mumbles under his breath as he cocks his gun once more.

You don’t even hesitate, your eyes remain trained on the target. Unlike the others, it seems like this one didn’t have a set route as it randomly and freely moves as it pleases.

This one was proving to be a challenge for the both of you, that much you can tell based on the multiple missed shots from both parties.

“Lucas this is impossible!” you shout out in frustration.

And what makes it even worse is it's impossibly small size.

“Not impossible if you just believe,” he replies back in a sing-song voice, irking you even more.

You take a deep breath knowing that letting your emotions get the best of you won’t do you any good.

You stare back at the fast-paced ‘animal’ with a more calm head as Jungkook continues to chase after it helplessly. Just when it seemed like it didn’t have a set route, the more you paid attention to it, the more you’ve come to realize it did go into somewhat of a pattern.

It goes in the same route but the way it moves differs from time to time making it seem like there was no way to predict its movements.

You memorize its movements and notice this one spot it always passes and then count in your head the length of time it passes by.

Lucas raises a brow as he observes the way you stopped following its movements altogether. He leans forward, as he watches you carefully.

He swears he sees you mouth the word ‘one’ right before letting out a shot.

The area goes silent as all three of you watch the bullet pierce right through the small piece of wood leaving Jungkook in disbelief.

Your eyes light up, surprised your method actually worked.

Lucas lets out a hearty laugh as he claps his hands. “Well done the both of you, it’s quite hard to delcare the winner I’ll be honest.”

“I clearly shot more of them though,” Jungkook argues.

The older man raises a brow, “while that may be so, shall we compare the accuracy?” he makes a motion with his hands, “Hoseok, Yoongi bring me two of their targets.”

You were surprised to find that the two were here. They must’ve been the ones controlling and throwing them around.

Hoseok and Yoongi smile at you, happily making their way with pieces of broken wood with holes drilled into them. When they finally stand before you, Lucas leans closer to inspect them carefully.

He hums, “there’s no denying that Jungkook did shoot more but not by a large margin. However every single one of Y/n’s hits was right on the bullseye, and if not, it was on the second line right next to it,” he looks back at you with a pleased smile, “Y/n’s accuracy beats Jungkook’s by a long shot, no pun intended.”

“So what does this mean?” you ask with slight hope in your voice.

“Jungkook is faster in terms of shooting, however it’s sloppy. His targets wouldn’t die in one shot, instead it’d probably take two to three shots to finish them. You on the other hand, do well in that aspect to the point it’s scarily accurate.”

Your eyes light up, you try not to act boastful knowing how competitive Jungkook is.

“I’ll consider Y/n the winner by a very small margin. Don’t take it personally Jungkook, you still did very well compared to others, Y/n is just an above average person.”

Jungkook sighs but nonetheless sends you a smile, “I should’ve known better than to think it’d be easy to beat you,” he extends an arm out, “good job.”

You happily accept his hand, “thank you, you did really good too.” You then turn towards Yoongi and Hoseok, “what I wanna know is which one of you was controlling the hummingbird one.”

Jungkook scowls, “yeah, with the size, that was nearly impossible.”

“Y/n managed to get it,” Yoongi points out, purposely wanting to annoy Jungkook even more, “and we weren’t the ones in charge of that,” he informs him while tilting his head to the side, motioning for you all to turn to look.

When you do, your eyes meet with the new guard you met yesterday, Taehyung.

“Good evening,” he greets you all yet his eyes only remain trained on you.

You can’t help but blush, acting shy from his intense stare. Jungkook raises a brow having noticed this and subconsciously rolls his shoulders back looking a tad bit more taller.

“You controlled the hummingbird?” When Taehyung nods his head Jungkook furrows his brows, “you nearly made it impossible to shoot that damn thing, did you have to go so fast?”

“Sir Lucas ordered me to make it go fast,” the man shrugs his shoulders, “I was just following orders that’s all, is it my fault that you couldn’t hit?”

You all raise a brow at the slight sass whereas Jungkook narrowed his eyes in slight agitation, “no, I suppose not,” he replies through gritted teeth. He refuses to let his emotions get the best of him, not with his supervisor, friends and most importantly you being right there.

“It’s no surprise that you won Miss Y/n, I had my faith in you the entire time,” you couldn’t help but question his sincerity, however his good looks and deep voice really makes it hard to keep your heart calm. He then turns his attention towards Jungkook, “you did great too I guess,” he says not as enthusiastically as when he was addressing you.

“Gee thanks,” Jungkook replies sarcastically, dodging a nudge of your elbow, a punishment for acting rude.

Taehyung shrugs his shoulders, “don’t take it the wrong way, I just thought Y/n excelled in this aspect much more.”

“Well there’s no question about that, but I’m better at sparring than I am at shooting,” Jungkook replies back a bit more defensively.

“Is that so? I would love to see that for myself.” The confidence was nearly radiating off of him that it was hard to tell whether he was actually a really good fighter or he was just bluffing.

However, your father would never hire someone who was inadequate, so if he was here he must be good to some extent.

Yoongi observes from afar with narrowed eyes, clearly catching on to the fact that Taehyung was purposely trying to provoke Jungkook, but for what reason, he doesn’t know.

“I hope you dont mind losing again today,” Taehyung replies back cheekily, confidently declaring a challenge. One that Jungkook was ready to accept.

“I’ve been a guard here since the very beginning, there’s no way I’d lose to a rookie like you,” he scoffs, almost offended he would think that.

“Jungkook I hope you know I’ll never live this down if you lose,” Hoseok calls out from the sidelines with a lopsided smile, hoping that by joking it would dissipate much of the apparent tension in the air.

“Yeah, losing to a rookie has gotta be the lowest thing you can do,” Yoongi adds with a slight smirk on his lips, adding more fuel to the fire. If they were going to fight, he might as well enjoy the show. He’ll investigate further into Taehyung’s character later.

“Thanks for the words of encouragement guys, really helping me out here,” Jungkook calls out sarcastically, with a hint of agitation.

“No problem.”

Jungkook just sends Yoongi a scowl.

“Y/n can I get your words of encouragement?” Taehyung asks with a charming smile, successfully gaining your attention.

Jungkook whips his head in your direction, his scorching gaze boring into you, “Y/n I’ve known you longer,” the man was quick to remind you.

“Taehyung good luck,” you encourage with a shy smile, leaving Jungkook absolutely flabbergasted. You finally turn to him, unable to hide the amused grin at the sight of his pout, “Jungkook, good luck as well.”

His eyes nearly light up as he pulls his shoulders back, a bit more determined now. Taehyung couldn’t help but envision him as a puppy that got complimented by their owner.

“Softie,” Hoseok mumbles from beside you, nudging your shoulder gently with a small smile.

You nudge him back playfully, “shut it sunshine,” you hiss quietly, but he just chuckles at this, knowing he was right.

Lucas shakes his head in amusement at the scene before him, “well I’ll let you kids enjoy your time,” he says, starting to turn around to make his way out.

Your eyes snap in his direction, “is my training over? Wouldn’t father not approve of this,” you ask nervously. You weren’t prepared to get scolded again after yesterday. You try your best not to disappoint him but somehow you just can’t stop causing trouble for him.

He smiles softly at you before patting your head, “don’t worry about it kiddo, I’ll take the fall if he gets angry. You’ve been working hard all your life, it wouldn’t hurt taking a break every now and then.”

You can’t help but lean into his touch. Lucas has always treated you so kindly with so much affection that you had always wished he was the one you were calling father instead. But you don’t dare say that out loud, so you hope your actions display your gratitude instead.

“Thank you.” He just nods his head before leaving the area.

Yoongi gently grabs your forearm, guiding you towards the sidelines away from the two men radiating testosterone. “Let's get this show on the road fellas,” he calls out over his shoulder, “also Taehyung, do me a favor and beat him good, his ego gets the best of him sometimes.”

Jungkook lets out an offended noise as he stares at his friend with full on betrayal, “I get it, you all hate me and want to see me fail.”

“No we don't!” Hoseok shouts almost immediately, “I’m your best friend, we even shared a toothbrush once!” You and Yoongi turn to look at him in disgust.

Jungkook blinks, a now more horrified look on his face, “… I was not aware of that.”

You’re not at all surprised by the shameless look on Hoseok’s face despite announcing that in front of everyone.

“You have some very… interesting friends,” Taehyung replies as politely as he can.

“Yeah, very interesting,” Jungkook mutters, rolling his shoulders as he begins stretching to prepare for the fight.

Taehyung begins to stretch as well, “Y/n is definitely the most beautiful among your friends.”

Jungkook freezes at the mention of your name. He slowly raises his head to look at him seriously, “what do you want with Y/n?” He notices the way the man pauses for a moment, caught off guard at the question before reverting back to his charming expression.

“Is it wrong to admire her for her beauty?” Taehyung replies back with a shrug, “I just think she’s immensely gorgeous, nothing more nothing less.”

Jungkook remains unconvinced but nonetheless lets it go. He’ll just show this new guy through actions that he can’t get to you, not with him there.

“Enough talking, let's get started,” he says with a determined look.

Taehyung looks slightly surprised but smirks anyway, “thank goodness.”

Eyeing the way the two changed their stance, Yoongi nudges you to gain your attention, “they’re starting,” he says, taking you away from you and Hoseok placing bets on who's going to win.

Without any hesitation, Jungkook charges forward, always the type to run head first. And to your surprise, instead of bracing himself, Taehyung also runs forward.

You suck in a breath as they practically collide against one another. Fists and legs flying in the air as they aim at one another with precision and accuracy.

You three watch with bated breaths, the two fighting as if they were actual enemies wanting to kill each other.

The two were practially a perfect match as you watch the way Jungkook’s fists come straight for Taehyung’s shoulder, but the man professionally dodges the attack and retaliates with his own by kicking his feet under him. But Jungkook was skilled enough to dodge that attack as well.

Where Jungkook excels in strength, Taehyung excels in agility.

“This is getting really intense,” you mutter, flinching everytime someone’s fist collides with the other's skin, the sound not sitting right with you, “why are they trying so hard?”

Hoseok gives you a side eye with a knowing smile, “I wonder why.”

Yoongi hums in return, eyeing the two carefully, ready to intervene if it gets too messy.

Taehyung grunts as he braces himself for a jab from Jungkook, letting his forearms block the attack. He’s already not anticipating the bruises that are going to appear the next day throughout his body.

He ducks down, successfully dodging yet another one of his opponents hits, much to his annoyance. But to Jungkook’s surprise, Taehyung uses his legs to kick himself off the floor and with the momentum, collides his fist straight into his abdomen causing him to stumble backwards. Taehyung uses this to his advantage and kicks in the same spot until he falls to the ground.

“HAHAHAHAAH JUNGKOOK WHAT WAS THAT?!” Hoseok shouts as he nearly topples over while laughing his heart out. Meanwhile you and Yoongi couldn’t help but look away, trying to stiffle the laughter that was threatening to escape.

Jungkook growls and without wasting any time, flips over until he’s standing up on his feet once more. His stamina amazes Taehyung but he tells himself he needs to remain focused.

“Seems you do know how to fight,” he mutters.

Taehyung shurgs, “the boss wouldn’t hire me if I didn’t,” he points out, a statement that the other man couldn’t argue with.

Without another word, Jungkook surges forward and swings his fists in the air, switching between his two hands at lightning speed that you three on the sidelines could barely catch the movement. It was almost like he was moving like a blur.

Hoseok whistles, “wow he really is trying extra hard,” he mutters, “this new guy must be something else if he’s putting in this much effort to beat him,” he comments off to the side, more so to himself but you and Yoongi hear it loud and clear.

You can’t help but agree, despite Jungkook moving incredibly fast, Taehyung was surprisingly able to block or dodge each one.

However, Jungkook’s relentless attacks barely gives Taehyung any time to recover. So after some time, Taehyung noticeably has difficulty trying to catch up to the impressive speed, grunting as he tries his best to dodge his attacks. Although, he takes a misstep, and that one action was enough for Jungkook to take a strong jab at him.

Taehyung grunts from the pain, nearly toppling over. Jungkook uses this chance to swing his legs and kick his sides causing the man to fall to the ground from the impact.

All three of you gasp at the sight, waiting with bated breaths for Taehyung to stand back up, but much to Hoseok’s disapppointment, the man remains on the ground.

Yoongi frowns, “oh, looks like Jungkook won,” he announces, with absoultely zero enthusiasm in his voice.

Jungkook scowl’s, having taken note of his tone. “Thank you all so much for believing in me.”

“Kookie, I never once lost faith in you,” Hoseok smiles cheerfully with his thumbs up in the air.

“You’re a liar.”

“I sure am.”

Jungkook’s scowl never once left his face.

Taehyung lets out a hearty laugh, “it was my mistake to think I had a chance against you,” he says, succeesfully gaining his attention.

Jungkook can’t help but offer a small smile, “told you, I wasn’t planning on losing to a rookie,” he boasts, extending his hand out for him to take, “but nonetheless you put up a good fight.”

Taehyung gratefully accepts his hand and with his help, stands up from the floor. He returns the smile, “it’s quite an honor to lose to you, I’ve only heard great things about you.” He could practicaly see the way Jungkook’s entire demeener changed.

“Taehyung please, that boy's ego is already big as is,” Yoongi drones out as you three approach the two sweaty boys.

“Wow handsome and knows how to flatter, you’ve got the whole package,” you comment with a small smile directed to the new guy.

When his eyes land on you, he smirks in return, “I wouldn’t mind extending this flattering to you princess,” he replies flirtatiously, causing the other boys to raise a brow.

“I might have to take you up on that offer,” to everyone’s surprise, you return the flirting.

Hoseok moves to wrap an arm around your waist, “birdie don’t joke like that,” he whispers lowly in your ear. He leans away with a bright smile yet, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Jungkook narrows his eyes, frowning as he wordlessly moves to stand in front of you.

You blink, “can I help you?”

He tilts his head, “I won,” he announces as if you weren’t just a few feet away and saw thw whole thing.

You nod your head, still slightly confused, “I know? I was watching.” He pouts but doesn’t say anything else. You try to rack your mind as to what he wanted from you before realizing he must’ve wanted you to congratulate him.

You nearly chuckle before giving him a bright smile, “you did really well Jungkook.” And almost instantly, his entire face lights up.

Yoongi scoffs, “are you a puppy now?” he mumbles in a bored tone.

“You’re just jealous that Y/n’s praising me,” Jungkook pettily responds, his bottom lip jutting out.

“Nothing to be jealous about when I can hug her as I please,” he states before moving behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, resting his head gingery on your shoulder as he eyes him, almost challenging him, and the younger man was never one to turn down a challenge.

“I can hug her as I please as well!” Jungkook defends, and moves towards you with determination, but he suddenly gets stopped when you raise a hand in front of you.

“Not with all that sweat you’re not,” you state in a serious tone,your lips in a straight line, almost disgusted at the thought of being covered in his sweat.

Yoongi smirks before sticking his tongue out, successfully aggrivating Jungkook even more.

And just to add more fuel to the fire, Hoseok joins in and one ups Yoongi by placing a chaste kiss to your cheek.

Needless to say, this left Jungkook speechless.

Taehyung watches the scene before him in amusement. But at the same time he was trying to understand the dynamic that you have with all three of them. At first he had thought you were all just very close friends but the more he watche your interactions, he can’t help but think otherwise.

He had initially only wanted to test his strength, but he completely underestimated the man seeing how he was barely able to catch up to his speed.

He realizes then that it might be a lot harder to get close to you if he has to go past these three.

Little did anyone know, three pairs of eyes were watching you all like a hawk.

Your father, along with Calvin and Lucas were all observing the show below them from the window of his office.

Lucas had arrived at your father’s office knowing he would make a scene if he hadn’t informed him that he ended training early. After getting berated for a few minutes, they were left watching you five.

Your father hums, crossing his arms, “what can you think of him,” he asks, clearly referring to Taehyung who was treating you much differently from the rest of the staff. Granted Jungkook, Yoongi, and Hoseok treat you as a dear friend, but that’s only because that was their main purpose in your life.

However, this Taehyung guy, unlike the three boys, has no obligation to befriend you.

Calvin hums, eyeing the boy carefully “he’s rather bold for a newbie,” he comments.

“I think he’s just a very flirtatious and open person,” Lucas chimes in, also staring at the boy, “I’ve spent the most time with him yesterday and from what I’ve gathered, he’s a rather very charming person. Even having the audacity to flirt with her right in front of me,” he informs his boss.

Your father can't help but hum, lost in thought, “keep an eye on him,” he orders the other two, “whether he’s just flirting or not, we can’t take any risks.”

The two nod their heads, making sure to keep a close eye on the man and his future interactions with you.

Just then, when it seems as though the conversation was coming to an end, Lucas clears his throat, “Sir, if I may, would it hurt to be a little gentle with Y/n? She’s still young and-“

“Enough-“

The guard clamps his mouth shut, slightly intimidated by the now heated glare pointed towards him.

“Haven’t I told you before,” his boss hisses, “you can’t baby her, if she’s not exposed to the harshness of this world, then how can you expect her to survive out there.”

“We wouldn’t know since you don’t permit her to go out there at all,” Calvin comments in a heartbeat. Lucas can’t help but shift his gaze towards his friend, shocked to see the normally quiet man speak up for once.

Their boss snaps his head in his direction, slightly surprised he spoke up but narrows his eyes even more, “and then what? Risk getting her kidnapped? Being used for personal gain?” he snarls, “is that what you want?”

Calvin raises a brow, not at all intimidated, “well is that not what you did and are doing?” he asks shamelessly, crossing his arms across his chest, “were you not the one who ordered us to find Y/n and her mom and bring her to you at all cost?”

“I ordered you to bring them both to me, alive.”

“Well you know just as well as we do that things didn’t work out as planned.”

“Well maybe if you hadn’t missed a couple turns you could’ve gotten there quicker,” the man growls, slamming his fists angrily against his desk.

“If you could just barely protect her from that world, what makes you think that she’ll be able to survive out there without your protection.” At this, neither of the men can say anything else.

He just scoffs at their silence, “so go ahead, continue playing house with my daughter. You’ll only be digging her grave in the end.” He scowls at the both of them before turning on his heel and walking out the door without another look.

It goes silent for a moment, the two remaining men not knowing what to say next.

“Told you you’d never get through to him, even if we grew up with him,” Calvin nonchalantly comments as though he didn’t just go against his own boss.

Lucas raises a brow, “then why bother speaking up? You don’t normally do that.”

The man just shrugs his shoulders, “who knows.”

But Lucas gives him a mischievous grin, throwing an arm around his shoulders roughly as the other man grunts on impact. “I know, it’s because you think of her as a daughter, isn’t it.”

Calvin scoffs, shrugging him off, “no, you think of her as a daughter, not me.” His friend does nothing to deny that.

Lucas’s smirk does not once fall off his face. “Oh c’mon now, admit it, you would love to be her father.”

“I’ll admit that I’d be a better father to her than the one she has now,” he mutters in a low voice.

Lucas frowns, silently agreeing with him, “you know he cares for her.”

The other man scoffs, “with the way he’s acting, I have my doubts.”

“You and I both know why he’s acting like that,” Lucas mutters, sending him a knowing look. If he didn’t know the information he knows maybe he’d resent his boss much more for the way he’s been treating you.

Calvin rolls his eyes but says nothing.

He pushes himself off the wall and begins making his way out, “let’s get going, it’s getting late and I could drink some good alcohol.”

At the mere mention of alcohol, Lucas’s eyes nearly light up, “I’ll never say no to that.”

The two continue to joke around even as they exit the suffocating office. Unknown to them however, was that they had an eavesdropper.

“Y/n… was kidnapped?” Jin mutters in disbelief under his breath, a hand coming up to cover his mouth.

The man was just passing by when the sound of your name piqued his interest. He knew it was wrong to eavesdrop on a private conversation that could possibly have gotten him killed, but when your safety was mentioned he couldn’t help but lean into the door. Careful to make sure no one was around to catch him in the act.

And now, he was beginning to regret eavesdropping as he may have just heard information he was never meant to hear.

When he heard footsteps approaching the door, he scurried and quickly ducked into an empty room across the hall. Waiting patiently in silence as your father and both Calvin and Lucas left the room.

“Y/n’s not his real daughter?”

He’s heard stories about your arrival from the other servants in the manor. From their stories, their boss had supposedly arrived one day and announced that you were his child and was then going to live under this roof after finding out your mother had sadly passed away.

He then mentionned the fact that your mother was a siren, making you his siren child. Of course this information came as a surprise to everyone, definitely beginning to become much more wary of the small child in his arms.

But nonetheless, as per the request of their boss, they have always known you as his daughter and promised to protect you against the world who looks down on sirens.

Except now, someone found out about the truth, you weren’t his daughter at all. Jin can’t help but think of his boss as a complete hypocrite, claiming to protect you from the world, when the only evil here is him.

And apparently the two older men who have always treated you so kindly, are the ones responsible for killing your mother and kidnapping you.

His head was spinning, he didn’t know what to do with all this information. Should he tell you? Do you already know? Or does he forget ever hearing about it in the first place.

He steps out of the door, rubbing his temples in hopes of easing the headache slowly forming.

“Jin?”

The man jolts at the sound of your voice, whirling around with wide eyes. His reaction has you jumping back in surprise.

“Is everything alright?” you ask, concern laced in your voice.

Jin clears his throat, “Uh yeah, everything’s perfect. Where were you coming from?”

You raise a brow, clearly not convinced given the way he’s acting but you choose to let it go for now. “I just returned from the training grounds. Did you happen to see my father passing by?” you ask, trying to change the subject.

He pauses for a moment, but hesitantly shakes his head, “no I haven’t, I’m sorry.”

You nod your head, “oh alright, thanks anyway,” you offer him a bright smile before starting to make your way past him.

Jin gulps the closer you got, he closes his eyes shut, “actually Y/n-” he can’t help but blurt out when you were a step behind him.

You turn around to face him with a tilt of your head, “what’s wrong?” you ask curiously, waiting patiently for him to tell you.

He clears his throat, “um well, the thing is,” he pauses, trying to find the right words to explain to you what he heard.

But when you furrow your brows in confusion, he just lets out a sigh, “there’s a flower bush that’s wilting really badly, I was hoping you could spread some magic on it,” he asks instead of what was really on his mind.

You raise your brows slightly before nodding your head, “of course, I’ll make sure to stop by later today. Is that all?” You notice the way he pauses for a moment before nodding his head slowly, “alrighty then, I’ll see you later,” you wave him goodbye.

He mimics the action, trying to smile but he swears it must’ve looked more like a grimace in your point of view. He watches as you slowly walk away from him.

He purses his lips into a line, he hated lying to you, but he needed to gather more information in order to confirm whether he heard correctly or not.

Only then can he fully protect you.

Taehyung groans as he slowly tries to lay down on his bed after a long day visiting the nurse to get his bruises treated.

“What’s with the groaning, you’re not doing any sinful acts are you?” Jimin’s voice goes through, no doubt sporting a disgusted look.

“No, I got beat up by her boyfriend you pervert,” he explains, wincing at a sudden stab in his ribs when he moves in the wrong direction, “he’s a lot stronger than I exected.”

“Aw damn she’s got a boyfriend.” Taehyung could almost hear the pout in his voice.

“As if you had a chance with her in the first place,” Namjoon chimes in

“I would if I spoke to her myself,” Jimin claims confidently, but then goes silent for a second, “hey Tae you mind switching places for a bit.”

“Fuck off,” Taehyung nearly growls back. He winces when he lays down wrong and accidentally bumps into a bruise on the side of his body he didn’t know he had. “She’s got three close friends,” he informs his teammates.

“And?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “must I explain everything Jimin, they’re all guys and they’re very protective over her, it’s going to be hard trying to gain her trust if she’s constantly being surrounded by them. Not to mention the two older men who treat her as if she's their own kid.”

He’s beginning to think this mission was a lot harder than he expected. Him getting beaten wasn’t exactly part of his plan.

“Did you think this was going to be an easy mission given the information we have. Her friends are the most skilled in that place and the two older men are the head guards,” Namjoon drones out, “not to mention she’s quite literally a siren who can kill you with one simple tune, don’t let your guard down,” he warns.

“You think I don’t know that?”

“What’s she like?” Jimin asks curiously, breaking the tension, “surely you got a good glimpse of her character.”

Taehyung hums, thinking back at the way your smile shined brightly among them all, “she’s not at all like what I’ve heard about her.”

“Elaborate,” Namjoon gently orders. From the other end, pages turning and a click of a pen can be heard, no doubt the man preparing to take notes on his observation.

“Everyone says she’s scary, or someone not to mess with,” Taehyung summerizes the multiple answers he’s received when he was snooping around and asking people about what they thought of you. “But when I saw how she was interacting with her friends, all I saw was a normal girl.”

From what he’s gathered, although the staff may have these thoughts, they don’t underestimate your strength, which is why they don’t try to get in your way, but in the process you barely have any friends despite the many years you’ve known them.

“Her friends, they’re the ones who are extremely protective of her?” Namjoon asks, more of a confirmation than a question.

“Precisely. Their names are Jeon Jungkook, Jung Hoseok, and Min Yoongi,” he informs both his teammates.

“Jung Hoseok,” Jimin mumbles with furrowed brows, “where have I heard that name before,” he mutters under his breath, more so to himself than to the others.

“That name sounds familiar to me too,” Namjoon adds. He hums as though lost in thought, putting a star by the man’s name to investigate further, “Jimin, try to find more information about this Hoseok guy.”

“Roger that.”

Satisfied by that answer, Namjoon asks, “have you encountered her ‘father’ yet?”

Taehyung purses his lips, “no I haven’t, it’s nearly impossible to run into the man ‘accidently’,” he groans, tilting his head back against the pillow, “it’s almost like he’s avoiding any other human being on purpose unless it’s his daughter or his closest men.”

He hears Namjoon sigh, “just make sure not to grab his attention in a way that it gets you targeted,” he warns.

Taehyung shuts his eyes, “don’t worry hyung, he never runs into me. I doubt he even remembers he hired me,” he waves his hands in the air in a carefree manner.

“Out of sight out of mind.”

A/N: I apologize for the long wait, I was on vacation for the entire month of July and I just recently moved into a new apartment so I never really had time to write this chapter. But it’s here now~

I also would just like to say that since I’m heading back to school, I will have even less time to write as I really want to focus on my studies. With that being said I hope you can all understand that I’m not sure when the next chapter will be released.

Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day :)

Love always, Liz

Taglist: (those in bolded letters, I apologize but it seems I wasn’t able to tag you, im sorry. Also if I happened to forget to tag anyone, please comment under this post and I’ll add you in the next one, thank you)

@h0bi-c0re, @mageprincess7, @toughbook, @stupendouscookiehumanmug, @ceoalpaca, @softieyn, @tinnielovestannies, @singukieee, @lilacdreams-00

#poly!bts #bts poly #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #namjoon x reader #jin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader

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