#WHAT WORLD AM I BUILDING HERE. MY OWN PERSONAL HELL?????????
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lovesickeros · 2 years ago
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Darling: you hate me, it's written all over your face
Reader's resting b*tch face: what?
darling says it just to annoy you lbr. bc no matter how bad your resting bitch face is, the tsaritsa's is worse. darling has had years to learn how to discern the tsaritsa's mood when shes as reactive as a statue.
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the-upside-down-umbrella · 3 months ago
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The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived
Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader
Summary: After finding out about the seven years Lila and Five spent together, reader walks in to a diner in between all time and space and finds exactly what she didn’t know she was looking for
Warnings: cursing, cheating, anxiety
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
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The walls were closing in on her. The air in her lungs was poison. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She could only see the tender look that Five and Lila shared. A nightmare.
No, not a nightmare. Reality.
Her name was being repeated over and over but she couldn’t claw her way back to the surface in order to reply. Her knees gave way and she sunk to the ground, the world spinning around her.
Callused hands were cupping her face and she heard her name again. Pleads of forgiveness. Pleads for understanding.
She came to.
“Don’t…touch me,” she snarled, jerking away from the man in front of her.
“Y/N, please, let me explain,” Five pleaded, looking utterly dejected.
Her heart tightened in her chest and for a brief moment, the part of her that still loved him and still wanted to hold on to what they had, ached to reach out and comfort him. But it was quickly dashed by the realization that she was far angrier than she was sorrowful. She hated him. She hated him for making her feel this way.
“Just give her some room to breathe, asshole,” She heard Diego’s angry voice snap from somewhere off in the distance.
“Stay the fuck out of our business,” Five barked.
“You made it my fucking business the moment you decided to fuck my wife and betray Y/N’s trust!”
Five reached out for her again, his hand clasping her forearm as he blinked them away from the chaos. She stumbled, catching herself on a bench as they reappeared in the subway terminal he had brought them to just a few days before. At least, it had only been a few days for her.
“Take me back, Five!” She demanded, rounding on him.
“I need you to hear me out, Y/N,” he said, holding his hands up in defense, “please, just let me explain.”
She was shaking now, palms sweaty and heart beating erratically, “I heard enough, trust me. I don’t have anything to say to you. It’s over, Five. That’s all there is to it.”
Turning on her heel, she set off in a run, desperate to put some space between them. She had no idea how she would get back on her own, but she wasn’t thinking any farther than the need to be away from him. She couldn’t look at him anymore. The pain was unbearable.
She ran until her thighs ached and her lungs burned, forcing her to stop at the top of a dark set of stairs that went down in to what she assumed was more nothing.
She took them anyways.
When she reached the bottom, she blinked in surprise. A lone building stood before her, a neon sign blazoned across the front that read ‘Max’s delicatessen’.
A deli existed between all time and space, surrounded by nothing but dilapidated subway terminals.
She was definitely in an ask questions later mindset because her legs carried her forward without much thought until her hand was reaching out for the door handle.
She stepped across the threshold and every head in the room swiveled to look at her, the entire place falling in to shocked silence.
Her mouth went dry and her heart thundered in her chest as multiple sets of familiar green eyes stared her down. Every patron and every employee of this deli was a variation of her boyfriend. And they were all looking her like they had just seen a ghost.
“I’ve died and this is my own personal hell,” she murmured to herself, rooted to the spot.
Finally, a Five that was sitting in a middle booth stood up, breaking the silence as he waved off his counterparts, “As you were, you animals.”
He made his way over to her and gave her a gentle, easy smile, “You’ll have to forgive them. It’s been years since most of them have seen their Y/N and never in here.”
“You know who I am?” She questioned him as he gestured to his booth, leading her over to sit down across from him.
“Of course I do,” he spoke softly, a tenderness in his gaze that set her face aflame, “We all do. Now, where are you from?”
“Um,” she swallowed hard, not knowing where to start, “I’m from the cleanse timeline? Another apocalypse.”
Another Five, this time with his sleeves pushed up and an apron tied around his waist, appeared before them, sitting a cup of tea and a plate full of her favorite cookies on the table. She didn’t even need to ask how he knew what she would like.
“Thank you,” she said earnestly.
“Anything for the missus.” This Five said, voice laced with longing.
Her companion shooed him away and turned his attention back to her.
“You’ve been crying,” he said matter-of-factly, noting the tear streaks that still marked her face, “what happened?”
“Five, my Five that is, he and Lila…,” she choked on her words, tears pricking at her eyes again as she remembered what brought her here in the first place. She hung her head as her mind replayed the entire scene in Diego and Lila’s living room.
Booth Fives expression darkened as he read between the lines, his fists clenching on the table, knuckles whitening, “I’ll kill him.”
“He and Lila were stuck for seven years,” she explained, “but for me it was only a few hours. I can’t wrap my head around it.”
“That’s still no excuse!” Booth Five growled, “Do you know what every single one of us would do to have even just a moment longer with our Y/N? I don’t care how long he was trapped with her, he should have never crossed that line!”
His anger was palpable and she felt the need to reach out and soothe him, her hand covering his own, his fingers relaxing under her touch. She stroked her thumb across the back of his hand and he turned it palm up, interlacing his fingers with hers.
“I’m okay. I promise,” she assured him, “or at least I will be. Can I…can I ask what happened to me in your timeline?”
Pain flashed across his features and she realized she was probably forcing him to relive one of the worst days of his life.
“You…died. The handler put a hit out on you so that you wouldn’t be a distraction. They got to you before I could stop it. You saw it coming because you put up a hell of a fight, but there were too many of them.”
“Oh, Five,” she whispered, squeezing his hand, “I’m so so sorry. I can’t even imagine what you must have gone through.”
“It was a long time ago,” he said, voice distant, “But I still think about her, you, every day. I never thought I’d see you again until you stepped through that door today.”
“I’m the shittiest seer,” she said, lip quivering, “because I never saw any of this coming. And I’m willing to bet that no other versions of me could see what misfortunes were ahead of them.”
“You always did struggle seeing in to your own future. But there’s limits on all of our powers.”
She broke down at those words, feeling more powerless than she felt actually without her powers. What was the point of being able to see in to the future if she was never able to stop any of it? She couldn’t prevent any of the apocalypses in any timeline she existed in. She couldn’t stop the death and destruction that marred every last world that Five had fought for. She couldn’t even prevent her own death.
Before the first sob even escaped her chest, booth Five was scrambling out of his seat and sliding in to the spot next to her, pulling her in to his arms.
“Oh, my darling. My darling,” he cooed, kissing the tears from her cheeks, “None of this is your fault. You are not responsible for any of our unhappiness. You are everything good that has ever come to any of us, my love. Even if it wasn’t meant to last.”
She cried harder, her whole body shaking as he tightened his arms around her.
“I’m going to fix this,” he whispered in to her hair, holding her against his chest as she sobbed her anguish in to his shoulder, “I’m going to make sure that you never feel this pain ever again. You’re going to be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”
And she believed him. He was essentially a total stranger but the way he held her, the way he spoke, was of a desperate man who already went through the loss of her once and had no intention of losing her again.
She felt safe.
Authors Note: Possible part 2? I haven’t been this inspired to write in a long time!
Part 2
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redflagshipwriter · 9 months ago
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check yes to go on a date w a dead guy ch 4 progress
next chapter here
(masterpost with this story here)
It took a minute for Jason to recover from that realization. He kept the anger he felt off his face. Danny didn’t seem upset about dying young, but that didn’t mean much. It wasn’t an appropriate topic to prod about on a first meeting. He’d get there eventually.
Jason stilled. Ah, shit, he still didn’t have a plan. Just eating together was too short and too boring. He needed to have something better than that.
Fuck, what were they going to do next? 
Jason strained for ideas. What was a good date? Normally, he'd know more about a person before they hung out romantically. 
Well. Actually, normally he hung out platonically with someone a lot before he started to feel interest in them. This was all kinds of backwards: but he didn't want it to end yet. 
“So, uh, what do you like to do?” Jason asked. Masterful. So smooth.
Danny scrunched up his nose. “Lately my afterlife sucks,” he groused. “I am drowning in paperwork and busy stuff.” He slumped over. “I miss being in high school,” Danny sighed. He drew his knees in and rested his elbows on them, then squished his cheeks with his palms. “I guess I used to just hang out, you know?” He shrugged. “Played a lot of video games. I miss that.” 
“Of course,” Jason said, despite never having hung out and played video games in high school. He'd been an overscheduled nerd in junior high school and then been too dead for high school. “That sounds fun. Wanna go back to mine and play something later?”
Danny lit up, blue eyes sparkling in the fading light. “Yes! That would be great.” He straightened his legs and kicked his heels against the side of the building. “Wait, can we do the whole grungy high school hangout thing with pop and chips and dip and pizza and stuff?”
He almost said “we literally just ate”, but what the hell. “We'll hit the store next,” Jason said. He couldn't say no to that face. Look at ‘em. He was so excited.
'Ugh, god. Danny died in high school,’’ Jason realized. He'd already known Danny died young but it still stuck in his stomach like a rock. 'No wonder he misses what he did then. He's interacting with the physical world now but if he died, he probably went to like, dead land immediately.’
But, uh. Video games. He could do that. He kept up a conversation as his mind churned, asking Danny what kind of games he liked.
The thing was, Jason didn't really play video games. He had a console at his place and if he was hanging out with Roy or Dick there, they'd bring a game over. He owned like, two games. 
He considered popping by the store and just buying something. But that would be weird and intense. He'd probably freak Danny out if he went and dropped money on a game just to play with him. 
Ok. Well. He'd get someone to drop off games before he and Danny could get back to the apartment. Jason sneakily got out his phone and strategized. 
Steph? No. Terrible. He couldn't let that girl know he had a date until the poor bastard really liked him for sure. She'd either chase Danny off or somehow orchestrate the two of them getting engaged. 
Tim? God, no. He'd definitely own a lot of games but they'd all be for the PC, and he'd hang around and smirk about Jason meeting up with Danny.
Dick? Too far away, and way too smug. He'd take it as an opportunity to tease.
Oh, wait. He had it. Jason opened up a message to Duke and sent out a quick “I want to bribe you. Homemade pizza? Artichoke dip? Fried oysters???” 
“Did you take a life?????” Duke shot back. Then, “pizza! What do you need?” 
“Get to my place with a bunch of video games that'll work on my tv in less than an hour and I'll make whatever you want.” 
The three dots indicating typing popped up. They stayed there for a weirdly long time. Then, Duke said, “Can I stay and hang out? 🥺”
Adorable little bastard. Jason typed out NO and then hesitated, feeling kinda bad.
“Who's that?” Danny prompted. 
Ah, shit, he was being rude. Jason flushed. “Asking a little brother to bring over a game,” he admitted. “He wants to stay.” 
Danny laughed. “That's adorable,” he announced. “It's fine by me. Lots of games are better with more people, anyway.” 
Well. If that was the case, Jason was fine with it. He sent Duke an OK and then put his phone away before the inevitable “I AM THE FAVORITE SIBLING” fireworks started. 
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fallstaticexit · 2 months ago
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Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort
Geoffrey and Bob Karaoke selection- Creep - Radiohead
AN: A little more insight on Nancy and her major: Nancy is majoring in architecture. The Landgraabs are famously known for owning land and property- both residential and commercial- and Nancy will eventually operate the part of family business that will allow her to design houses, buildings and other structures in addition to leasing. (Geoffrey comes from a family of doctors but he decided to get a business degree- as he knows this would likely please Nancy's parents)
Transcript under the cut
Siobhan: Think about it, Nancy! Making your mark on this university—on the world—begins with Theta!
Becca: Nice one, you two.
Nancy: They only want me to join their organization because it’ll benefit them. All they care about is money -Ouch!
Geoffrey: [winces] Sorry. Your knees are completely raw.
Geoffrey: They’ve only got as far as knowing your name. If you give them a chance to get to know the real you-
Nancy: There’s nothing to know! Why do you think I had my parents make arrangements so I’d have my own room? I don’t want roommates. I don’t want friends! I just want to do my time so I can-
Geoffrey: Get away, I know...but what if you just take the next four years to have fun? It’s ok to just enjoy it for what it is. Isn’t that what college is all about?
Nancy: [scoffs] Sure, for you. You don’t have the same expectations as me.
Nancy: You can be anything you want. You can join any sports team; you can switch your major a million times if you want to. I have to excel at everything I do, whether I want to or not, and I cannot come out of this a failure. I have to be ready to start working along with my parents the moment I graduate.
Geoffrey: I just want you to be happy. I want you to take care of yourself. Be kinder to yourself. Give yourself the benefit of the doubt. You’re a good person. You’re an amazing person, Nancy. Anyone would be lucky to be apart of your life.
Geoffrey: Does this hurt?
Nancy: Yes. It hurts.
Nancy: You’re too good for me.
Geoffrey: Don’t say that.
Geoffrey: It’s Karaoke night at Tab’s. Bobby and I wanted to check it out. Did you want to go?
Nancy: I think I’ll pass. I should get started on this project for Munch. I want to get ahead.
Geoffrey: If you change your mind, come down and unwind a bit. Have fun. Eat. Ok?
Nancy: Ok.
Geoffrey: I love you, Nance.
[door shuts]
Nancy Narrates: [I’m holding him back. A selfish part of me knows it, but I can’t fathom the thought of losing someone else]
[distant laughter]
Nancy: Heavenly Father, help me to find peace in Your love and wisdom-
Geoffrey and Bob Karaoke Pick: Creep by Radiohead I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here
[crowd whistles and cheers]
I don't care if it hurts I wanna have control
I want a perfect body I want a perfect soul
Morgan: [hums] Upright High Priestess. That’s twice now. Once again, my intuition is being called forth.
I want you to notice When I'm not around
Morgan: My appetite is off. I can’t focus. If I weren’t on the pill, I’d think I was knocked up. So. What does that leave me with? I can almost bet this is all connected to-
Morgan: You! You have something to do with this.
Nancy: [frowns] Do with...what, exactly?
You're so fuckin' special I wish I was special
But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo
Morgan: Rich Christian girl with walls as high as Berlin stumbles on campus and taps my shoulder. I had a dream the night before that I placed an injured dove back into its nest. I think this is fate. Sit. I’ll do your reading. Free of charge, of course.
Nancy Narrates: [I didn’t know it then, how right she was. About fate. About everything]
What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here
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buckysdollbarnes · 3 months ago
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you are in love series - part one
one look, dark room
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PAIRING: tfawts!bucky x grad student!reader
Summary: Moving to NYC to go to grad school, your friend's dad has a connection with the owner of a rental building in Brooklyn where you can live on your own, for cheaper than you could get anywhere else. On a student's budget, you strive to still make your place your own by thrifting as much decor as possible. Meeting your quiet and somewhat secretive neighbor, James, you gain some free labor to help you move the random stuff you buy, and with that he may be growing to love parts of the modern world he has been missing. With you in a big, new city feeling alone for the first time and Bucky wanting to make a connection with someone other than Sam and his therapist, maybe online marketplaces and a turntable will bring you both what you need most.
warnings: mild language
word count: 4.7k
a/n: this is my first time EVER writing fiction, usually I only ever write academic papers so this is fun. :) I read over and revised this chapter so many times, so I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed and I'm excited to start on the next chapter.
a/n: also!! sorry for it being so long genuinely just so much had to happen in this chapter for it to be set up the way I wanted, which I think I did well enough. lmk what you think <3
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Why did I think carrying this by myself was a good idea? It might be cute and a great deal, but I don’t think I'll be able to feel my arms tomorrow. I might need to hit the gym again before I find more bargains like this. Hell, maybe I'll even invest in a neck towel, because this heat is unbearable. I’ve been searching for some larger pieces to fill my apartment, and this vintage bar cart should fit perfectly. Just five more blocks to go.
Moving here alone has certainly come with its challenges: being on my own in such a big city, dealing with a lot of stress, and managing on a tight budget. But I’m determined to make it work though and prove everyone wrong. Growing up, you see so many romcoms where the heroine leaves everything behind to chase her dreams in NYC, landing a job at a magazine or fashion house, living in a gorgeous high-rise, and meeting the perfect guy. It’s a beautiful fantasy really, but the reality is much tougher. New York isn’t a movie set; it’s a real city with real people, and you have to work just as hard, if not harder, to be here. I know that, but it feels like a majority of my people back home DON’T know that I know that.
I came here for school. In about two months, I’ll be starting my Master’s program at NYU. I don’t think I’ve ever been as proud as when I received my acceptance email. I worked my ass off in undergrad to earn strong recommendations and good academic standing, and seeing it all come together was a huge relief—until the reality of the cost hit me.
Luckily, a friend's dad has a connection with a landlord in Brooklyn and got me a good deal on a place of my own. It’s incredible not to have a roommate in this market, especially in a place where your bed doesn’t touch your stove, though it can be a bit lonely.
Finally, reaching the stoop, out of breath, you set the cart down on the pavement. Wiping your brow, you notice the street is unusually quiet for this time of day. The city never truly sleeps, but the residential streets seem to take occasional naps. A little breath of air somewhere where it feels like oxygen is running out sometimes. Light filters through the trees, momentarily blinding you, and you turn back toward the building.
“How on earth am I going to get this up to my floor?”
Carrying it down the street was one thing, but hauling it up the stairs is a whole different challenge. Plus, who knows when the building's maintenance has last been here, the steps might not hold up under the cart’s weight. They usually feel like they could give away holding one person.
Deciding that falling to your death and being crushed isn’t really how you want to go, you open the double doors and drag the cart into the lobby, using the wheels on one side. Passing the main desk where the worker, who looks completely uninterested, engrossed in a crossword puzzle, you make your way to the end of the hall and start pulling the cart backwards up the incline of the stairwell.
“Nah, I can’t,” you say aloud, after struggling up two floors, letting the cart rest on the landing. There’s still three more floors to go, but your body is clearly telling you the cart belongs right here. Maybe the universe wants it to stay here—who knows, maybe the entire second floor needs a communal bar more than you do.
“Excuse me,” a quiet but rough male voice comes from behind me. You turn around to see him—a guy you’ve seen around your floor a few times, though you’ve never talked. One of the neighbors. You quickly realize you’re blocking the entire staircase.
“Sorry! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I’ll move this um — just give me a second.”
You shove the cart closer to the wall to make some space for him to pass, but he stays put, his gloved hands in his pockets. He’s definitely handsome—tall and solid, but not intimidating. His furrowed brow and tight-lipped expression don’t exactly scream “welcome,” but he’s still got a certain charm.
He shifts a bit, clearly wanting to say something but hesitating. Feeling a bit awkward under his gaze, you decide to try talking to him again.
“You can just squeeze by if you want. It’s just really heavy, so I’m taking a quick break before I try lifting it up again.”
After a moment, he seems to make up his mind and asks, “Do you need help?”
Looking back at him, you consider saying no. You pride yourself on being independent and capable, and part of you wants to insist you can handle it. But then you think about the struggle of getting the cart up the last two flights of stairs—only this time, it's three—and decide against it.
“You wouldn’t mind? You’re headed down, I’m sure you’ve got somewhere else to be.”
He gives a little smirk that makes you feel a bit dizzy.
“Well, I’m already here so.”
You nod slowly, a small smile appearing on your face.
“Sure, you can take this end, and I’ll get this o—” you start to say, but before you can finish, he’s already in front of you, lifting the cart with ease and starting up the stairs without breaking a sweat.
“Hey! Be careful, uh—,” you pause, realizing you don’t know his name.
He picks up on your hesitation and hesitates himself, considering whether to give his name. He’s wary of how others might perceive him, potentially recognizing his name from past news broadcasts or papers, still dealing with the shadows of his past despite his efforts to make amends. Not wanting to be dishonest, he chooses the safe option.
“James.”
“Be careful, James. I don’t want you tripping and falling on my account.”
“Won’t happen, doll.”
“What-,” you start, caught off guard by the pet name, “what if it does?”
“It won’t, see?” With the last few steps, you and James arrive at your floor. “Already here.”
He must have seen you around before too, to know where you live.
He gives you a quick look and then carries the cart to your door.
“This is yours, right?” He turns and looks at you expectantly. You rush over, fumbling for your keys to unlock the door. If he’s willing to move it all the way, who are you to turn him down?
You lead James into your apartment, wondering if it looks anything like his. The layout can’t be that different; it’s not exactly a luxury building.
He strolls further into the room.
“You can set it right here,” you say quickly. “Thank you for bringing it up for me. I was honestly thinking about giving up when you showed up.”
Setting the cart where you indicated, he straightens up, rolls his shoulders back, and gives you a look that feels intense.
“It’s no problem.”
His gaze wanders around your apartment, taking in the mix of vintage furniture and eclectic decor. On a student’s budget, you’ve filled your space with secondhand finds. It’s more affordable and personal that way. The place might not be filled with new things, but it’s entirely curated by you. Finding beauty in the mix of old and new is something you do well, and now, thanks to James, you have one more piece to add.
James’s eyes land on your turntable setup. He seems intrigued by your collection of records but doesn’t say anything, turning his attention back to you.
“I have to go.”
Your eyebrows lift at his abruptness. Sensing your surprise, he quickly adds, “I’ve got an appointment.”
You nod vigorously, urging him to go and thanking him again for his kindness. Feeling a bit sad that this chance encounter with your new neighbor is ending so quickly, you call out as he heads for the door.
“I’ll see you around then? Since you live here too.”
He turns on his heel, giving you one last smirk.
“Yeah, you’ll see me.”
As he heads down the stairs, you shut your door and lock it behind you. Wandering over to where James’s gaze lingered, you pull an album from the shelf, lift the acrylic cover on your turntable, and set the record down. You close the cover, push play, and let the needle softly drop onto the vinyl. As the music starts, your mind drifts back to James.
Embarrassingly, you find yourself hoping this isn’t a one-time encounter. You don’t know much about him beyond his name, but there’s something about him that makes you want to see him again.
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“Two hundred bucks for this is crazy,” you mutter to yourself, staring in disbelief at the sofa you’re eyeing on Facebook Marketplace.
“People are practically giving this stuff away.”
Not wanting to miss out on such a good deal, you message the seller to check if it’s still available.
Since you got the bar cart about a week and a half ago, you haven’t picked up anything else. With the July heat blasting, just thinking about moving a sofa in this weather makes you want to rip off your skin to cool down.
You can’t help but think of James, who you’ve seen briefly in the hallway since your last encounter. He just nodded as he passed by, and that was it.
Your phone dings, snapping you out of your thoughts. The seller confirms the sofa is still available and offers to deliver it since they have a truck.
Excited, you reply with a yes, and they let you know they’ll head your way soon.
You get up to rearrange your furniture, making space for the new sofa. You don’t have much to move since you’ve been slowly collecting things. As you shift the pieces around, your turntable stops, signaling it’s time to flip the record. After you do, you take a moment to picture how the sofa will fit in the space.
Then it hits you—moving a sofa is way heavier than the bar cart. If you struggled with that, how on earth will you manage this?
“Independent woman, my ass.”
With the delivery imminent, you decide on the only solution you can think of. Without hesitation, you head to the apartment across the hall and knock softly on the door. You wait, hoping James will answer. After a moment of shuffling and then silence, you start to wonder if you should just try something else.
Just then, the door cracks open, revealing half of James’s face. He looks curious but not annoyed—no one usually visits him.
“Hey! James! Great to see you again! I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I was wondering if you could help me out a bit? I just bought a sofa from this marketplace deal, and the seller’s coming to drop it off right now. He said he’d deliver it, but didn’t offer to help get it up to my apartment. I realized a sofa is way heavier than a bar cart, and you saw me struggle with that, so I was kinda sorta hoping you could help me bring it up here?”
After your rambling, you offer him a hopeful smile, waiting for his response.
A few moments of silence later, that smirk you’ve been missing appears on his face. Opening the door wider, he comments with a grin.
“You bought another thing you knew you couldn’t get up the stairs?”
“I honestly didn’t think it through. The deal was too good to pass up. I’m really sorry for bothering you. I can try to find someone else if you’re busy.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, doll.”
The smile that blooms on your face is unavoidable.
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As the delivery guy drives away, James shows you where to grab the sofa and effortlessly lifts the other end. He encourages you to take the lead, making sure the weight is on him as you both navigate the stairs. With minimal effort, you get the sofa up to your place.
After some awkward maneuvering, you finally get the sofa into your apartment through the thin door and set it down. You put your hands on your hips and exhale deeply, only to find James already looking at you with that same intense gaze from before. It makes you a little nervous.
You can’t help but feel grateful—there’s no way you would have managed this on your own.
“I could have handled the bar cart,” you say, nodding toward the cart now adorned with bottles in the corner, “but this? No chance. Thanks so much for your help.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he replies. “I wasn’t busy.”
As you look at him, you start to feel like you know him from somewhere beyond being just a neighbor. Maybe you’ve seen him around the city before you moved?
Brushing off the thought, you offer, “You’ve helped me out twice now, and it doesn’t feel right not to return the favor. If your whole evening consists of not being busy, why not stay for dinner? I promise I’ll cook something totally good and not poisonous.”
James looks surprised by your offer but quickly hides it.
“You don’t need to do that. You don’t owe me anything,” he says, not wanting you to feel obligated or uncomfortable. He worries that his presence might not be enjoyable.
He wishes he could be as charming as he was back in the 40s. Being friendly used to come easily, and if he were still the same person he was at 26, he wouldn’t have left so quickly after helping you on the stairs the first time. He wouldn’t have had a therapists appointment to go to and he wouldn’t have a hidden arm made of metal. He’d have asked you to dinner or for you to let him take you dancing instead in return for his brawn. Now, he struggles to make new connections beyond a few familiar faces, like Sam, and asking someone for a dance feels out of reach.
“No, no! Stay, I insist! It gets kind of lonely around here, doesn’t it? Why not have a friend dinner?” you press, hoping he’ll take you up on the offer.
Seeing your sincerity, though still feeling a bit miffed, he finally agrees.
“Yeah, sure. I can stay.”
James settles onto the sofa while you work in the kitchen. You’ve decided on making some stuffed ravioli and garlic bread—easy, delicious, hard to mess up.
Before getting into cooking, you switch out the record, letting new music drift softly through the space. Unbeknownst to you, James watches closely, paying attention to how you handle the records and the turntable. The care you take when putting a record back in its slip, taking a new one out of its dust cover, and gently putting it on.
Seeing you focused on cooking, James gets up and strolls over to your setup. He runs his fingers lightly across the spines of the record sleeves, feeling a surprising sense of comfort. He hadn’t realized people still used record players so often.
The setup looks quite familiar to him, with many aspects reminiscent of the record players he used back in his earlier days. In his life before this one.
As you finish preparing the pasta and pull the bread from the oven, you call out, “Hey, food’s ready!”
You glance back to see James hovering by the turntable. He quickly moves to the table and sits down.
Over dinner, the conversation flows comfortably. James seems to be relaxing a bit, his initial reserve fading. He’s still somewhat guarded, but what he does share is genuinely interesting. You sense that opening up is challenging for him, so you respect his pace and take whatever he is willing to give. Laughing with each other a few times and getting through some odd topics, he mentions that he hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in quite a while and thanks you with a smile.
After a pleasant dinner, you decide to bring up something you’d been curious about.
“You like records?”
Caught off guard by the question, James tries to answer without revealing too much about himself. It feels strange to be here, knowing you don’t really know who he is, but he worries that being too open might scare you away. He decides to keep his secrets for now, selfishly hoping to get to know you better before revealing more.
“Yeah, I used to have quite a few records as a kid. My ma would play them too, especially when she was cooking, just like you. I didn’t realize they were still so popular.”
Excited by this glimpse into his past, you push further.
“Oh, there’s definitely a huge market for vinyl. Lots of people who think it makes them superior, but also a lot who just love the physical aspect of it.”
“So which one are you?” he asks.
You laugh and reply, “Maybe a bit of both.”
You glance up at him from beneath your lashes, catching his rare smile.
“But really, I just like having it. There’s something different about the listening experience. It requires more effort than just hitting play on a playlist. It’s about choosing a full album and actually sitting down to listen. That feels more intentional to me, and that’s why I do it.”
James seems to ponder your answer, his expression softer than before. He then turns his gaze back to the turntable.
“So, since you mentioned you had records as a kid, do you not have any now?” you ask.
He shakes his head.
“Haven’t had any for a long time. Talking about it makes me miss them. Everything these days feels so complicated. I like simple things like that.”
Watching him as he looks away, you hesitate but notice the nostalgic shine in his eyes. You sense he might appreciate physical music even more than you do.
“If you ever get any and don’t have a place to play them, you’re welcome to use mine.”
He turns to face you, his expression unreadable.
“I mean, I know it’s not the most convenient offer, but it’s there. One record lover to another,” you add with a smile.
He returns your smile, saying, “Okay… thank you. I’ll keep that in mind, Doll.”
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That night, Bucky lies on his makeshift bed on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and replaying the events of the day. You knocking on his door for help with the couch, inviting him over for dinner, and all the easygoing conversation you shared. It was such a stark contrast to his usual rigidity. He'd let his guard down just a little—letting himself smile or flirt ever so slightly.
He wishes he were better at this. It used to come so naturally. Hell, before he left for war, he’d gone dancing with both his own date and Steve’s at the same time. Now, he finds himself listening to you talk while struggling to share anything of his own.
He doesn’t want to pass up your invitation, especially since you’re inviting him into your space again. Clearly, his reserve hasn’t put you off too much.
“What would I even bring?” he wonders aloud.
All he’s ever listened to is 40’s music and big band. He doubts that’s readily available these days.
Rolling onto his side, he grabs the cell phone Steve had insisted he get before he went back in time to live his real life, without Bucky.
“You can do anything on here, Buck!”
Scrolling through the three contacts he has, he taps on the name of the guy who’s been trying to reach him for weeks.
“So, is there a valid reason why you haven’t picked up my damn calls?” Sam’s voice comes through.
“Sam, hi.”
“Did you finally learn how to click the screen? Is that why I’m hearing from you now, old man?”
“Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t like the thing. Too confusing,” Bucky says, grimacing as he fiddles with the phone.
“Okay, okay, what’s going on, man? You doing alright?”
“I’m fine. I just have a question and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t harass me about it.”
“Is it about wizards?”
“What?”
“Wizards. Is the question about wizards?”
“No, what the hell. Look, I had dinner with one of my neighbors tonight—”
“Was it a girl?”
“Does it matter?”
“Hell yes, it matters. And from that response, I KNOW it was a girl, so—”
“It doesn’t matter. She has a record player, which I didn’t know people still used, and she offered to let me use it, but I don’t have anything to play on it.”
“I’m not getting the problem.”
“I only like the stuff from the 40’s and—”
“Did you listen to that Marvin Gaye playlist I sent you?”
“Not interested.”
“C’mon, man, it’s good stuff. Give it a listen.”
“Not feeling it.”
“Alright, your loss, I guess. Still not seeing the problem though.”
“What do I bring? I can’t just bring around the stuff I know because where would I even get it?”
“Whoa, man, what do you mean, where would you get it? Just go to a record store and hit up the vintage section or something.”
Bucky pauses, mulling over Sam’s words.
“They have that?”
“Duh. You know, you could answer these questions a lot easier if you just looked them up on your phone—”
“Thanks, Sam. Talk to you later.”
Lying back down, Bucky decides that the next time he’s out to see his therapist, he’ll first stop by a record store to find something to bring over to your place.
Your easygoing presence was so comforting, and he found himself longing for it as he drifted off to sleep. He’d see you again soon enough.
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Later in the week, as you wind down from a busy day, you focus on making your space as calming as possible.
You light some candles and turn on an orange floor lamp, the soft glow wrapping around you and setting the perfect mood to sink into your sofa with the book you’ve been neglecting.
You’ve just started settling into your reading when you’re jolted out of your half-nap by the sound of someone knocking on your door.
You get up and peer through the peephole, and there’s your dinner guest from earlier in the week.
Opening the door with a smile, you greet him.
“Hey James, unexpected visit! What’s up?”
His eyes linger on you for a moment before he speaks. You glance down and realize your outfit—shorts that really lived up to their name and a tank top—might not be the most guest-appropriate.
Brushing off your embarrassment, you look back up at him.
“I’ve got something I’d like to play, if that’s alright?”
Bucky’s mind races. Standing at your door, he worries maybe you only offered your place to be nice, and now he’s making a fool of himself. Of course, you didn’t want him there—he could barely talk.
Just as he’s about to get lost in his own head, your bright smile pulls him out of it.
“Oh my gosh, please, come in. What do you have?”
His doubt fades away as he sees your genuine excitement.
“Brought some Sinatra. Not sure if you’re into that, but I used to like his stuff when I was younger.”
You spin around abruptly, staring at him in disbelief.
“There’s no way you think I don’t know who Frank Sinatra is…”
Bucky stumbles over his words.
“Well, I mean, it’s not exactly new stuff so—”
“You think I wouldn’t know ‘Fly Me to the Moon’? ‘Singin’ in the Rain’? ‘New York, New York’? I mean, I even moved to New York—I had to get the romanticism from somewhere.”
“What are those?”
You pause, confused.
“Like, the most iconic Frank Sinatra songs. You are talking about Frank Sinatra, right? Not some other Sinatra I’ve never heard of?”
“No, you’re right, it’s Frank.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“I guess I don’t know those ones.” He admits.
“So, what era are we talking about?” You ask, reaching for the record.
As you grasp the sleeve, you notice a glint of light catching James’s bare hand. Realizing he’s not wearing gloves, confusion sets in before it clicks. You HAD seen James before.
Looking up at him, he seems frozen, obviously panicking. He planned to tell you eventually, but not like this. Not when you weren’t close enough yet.
He thought there is no way you are going to want anything to do with him now.
You thought there is no way was there's an actual Avenger in your apartment right now.
You’re frozen, just like him, but more in shock rather than fear.
“Do you… usually go by James?” you ask cautiously.
Hesitating, he shakes his head.
“What do you usually go by then?”
Bucky feels anxiety creeping up his back. You’re both still holding the record, and he can’t tell if you’re scared or just surprised.
“Bucky.”
You stay silent for a moment while Bucky’s nerves are on edge.
“So… metal hand…”
Clenching his jaw, he replies, “Arm.”
“You’re that Bucky.”
“Yes.”
After a long pause, you start again.
“You’re an Avenger and you didn’t tell me?”
Bucky hesitates, his discomfort visible. “I’m— I’m not an Avenger.”
“What do you mean? You’re totally an Avenger! Why wouldn’t you tell me? How did I not recognize you before?” you ask, laughing in disbelief.
Bucky’s taken aback. You really thought he was an Avenger? You’re not scared of him at all, which surprises him. You must not know much about his past if you’re still standing this close.
“No wonder you don’t know ‘New York, New York,’” you say, almost to yourself. “It’s from after your time! This is crazy, I—”
You’re interrupted by his response.
“Are you not scared?”
“Of course not.”
Bucky closes in on himself, panic evident. “If you really knew me, you’d want nothing to do with me. I’ve—”
“I might not know the version of you you’re talking about, but I’ve met James, who helped me not once, but twice  carry stuff he definitely didn’t have to up the stairs, stayed for dinner, has been very polite to me, and has given me zero reasons to be scared of him.”
He looks at you, his piercing blue eyes revealing an internal struggle. That one look holds more weight than his words. You can see the battle within him, torn between his past and the present moment.
“Listen,” you say, finally letting go of the record, “if you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to. But I’m not scared of you, and I actually like your company. So, regardless of whether you’re James, Bucky, or whoever, you’re still welcome here.”
You pause, adding, “And we can still play this if you’d like.”
Bucky struggles with his inner turmoil. The idea that you know who he is but still want him around is foreign to him. He doesn’t feel worthy of the kindness you’re offering, but it’s been so long since he’s received such warmth that it’s almost impossible to turn it down.
He’s not comfortable with his identity or his past, but in this moment, he wants to push it aside. If you don’t care, maybe he can allow himself not to care, even if just for a bit. Maybe he can prove something to himself, or even his therapist.
Handing you the record, he relaxes his face slightly. You’ve always thought him handsome, but in the dim light of the dark room, he looks almost ethereal.
You’re hoping he believes you because your excitement for his company tonight feels more significant than it probably should, but you’re okay with that.
“I’m Bucky.”
You smile warmly at this change. “Alright, Bucky. What do you want to do?”
He gazes at you deeply, his look sending a shiver down your spine and warming your chest. “Play it.”
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a/n: well, hope this was alright. as I mentioned before, ive never wrote fiction before, but ive definitely read enough to get the gist.
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critterbitter · 11 months ago
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What do you know- I'm trying out the askbox *eyes*
anyway I just wanted to say that high-key I think I'd follow any content you make at this point bc your art brings me so much joy. That doesn't tend to happen super often since i am,,,, very much so a hyperfixation-focused person HAHA
regardless I'm not exactly quiet about it but I adore your art and I look forward to each new time you post :D
I WISH i had the capability of pumping out art like you do bc man while I love to draw and have so many ideas all the time picking up the pencil is Hard Dude.
Also! In a recent post you mentioned the whole Twin Dragons AU and HC that people love to have- I'd be super curious as to your opinion on it!
-( ╹▽╹ )
I SEE YOUR TAGS AND IM.
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I’ll have to slow down at some point on that Submas Grind, but the hyperfixation throes are REAL. Thank you for inhabiting the tunnels with me! People that tag and cheer artists on are the real mvps of the art economy.
As for twin dragon aus!
I’ve always seen Emmet as more zekrom esque, and Ingo more reshiram esque. Is it cause the typing matches their starters? Maybe, hehe.
Ultimately though, the guys are too multifaceted for me to easily split them into truth and ideals.
I also see the legendaries as Eldritch Abominations Beyond Understanding, so having the dragons in my iteration become the twins would, uh, have consequences. The funny goofy story would dip into horror territory instead. (Reshiram demands only truths, and anything not Absolute will burn. And zekrom’s ideals are beyond human understanding, and trying to understand the mad tangle of thunder would drive somebody insane.)
(I’m a huge tma fan. Can you see it? Man.)
((Also N’s a scary mofo for summoning reshiram. I’m digging directly into the whole “twin heroes have a civil war and it destroyed unova” backstory that pokemon set up, and the more I think about it the stronger my dread mounts at the idea of Zekrom OR Reshiram casually flying overhead.
But this is also just how I see the legendaries of the pokemon world! Lugia sinks islands. Groudon covers towns. Arceus loves the mortal world, and mourns because its immortality only brings grief. Giritina hates, because it’s the ghostly remains of every one of Arceus’s mistakes given drive, banished into the distortion realm. Normal stuff!)
You sly dog, you got me monologing! But here’s the tldr: Not sure i’ll ever make my own serious Dragon AU that follows my internal world building for pokemon. I’m too attached to my favorite trope: “the smallest people can still initiate the biggest of changes”, and I’m too attached to my other favorite trope: “legendaries are actually gods and you Should Be Frightened.”
So that’s why, in this essay, if the trio gets turned into pokemon, I’d make them route 1 run of the mill rats. Because rats can do whatever they want.
(Plus, patrats and pachirisu aren’t banned from the subway battles last I checked.)
If i had to make a goofy crack dragon au though, I think this would be the result:
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The whole story would just be the trio and historians trying to figure out what the hell the twins got turned into, and concerns of other people becoming pokemon as well. So far, people are convinced they’re a paradox version of an archen. (I mean…)
(Alternate take of THAT, where elesa gets turned into a victini.)
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deathmetalangel · 5 months ago
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HARDLY SEEMS FAIR
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robby keene x fem! reader
warnings: "casual" relationship", swearing, arguments, crying, heavily ldr coded, implied hookups, slut shaming, cheating, angsty
“in what world is that fair robby?"
oke so this is kinda a retconnned chapter from my wattpad book that i'm just extending and making more ambigious instead of clearly x oc. i hope y'all like it tho. i am sorry i have been gone for so long :(
Y/n plays with the ends of Robby's hair. He was laying with his head in her lap while they just relaxed in her room. It was calm, domestic. A small and very rare moment for just the two of them. No outside force would intrude and break their safe haven. There was no what if's that lingered in the air. Nor past resentments that hung over them like an ominous cloud determined to damper their moods. 
It was just Y/n and Robby. And that's all they'll ever be. No labels. She figured that much after the last time she'd brought it up. But she's become so full of him she can't even bring herself to care. She'd rather have what they have now, whatever it may be with him. Rather than risking losing him, and the routine she's started to build around him. 
She hums softly. Her mind far off. "Y/n?" She hymns in acknowledgement without turning her head. "Something happened this weekend."
He was lying. This had been going on for weeks. He had been having doubts for weeks. He'd been seeing her for weeks. "What happened? Another karate fight?" She wasn't the girl who got heartbroken. She was never the second choice. She got what she wanted. And she wanted him, however she could have him.
"I kissed Sam Larusso."
Y/n freezes. Her body betraying her as she tenses up. She has no right, she knows that. They were 'casual'. Just her and Robby. Non-commital.
"I mean big deal right? We were drunk anyways. Just felt bad not telling you. I know were not dating so it's really not your business, but don't worry about it. I mean we've fucked so often what does a kiss even mean?"
A kiss. To her it meant everything. An act of intimacy that they rarley ever shared. So innocent, so pure.
"Get out of my room Robby." Y/n mumbles, her voice above a whisper. The teen sits up from her lap and looks at her incredalously. He was only telling her to keep her in the loop. She didnt have the right to be mad. So why was she making a big deal about this?
"What?"
"You heard me. Get the fuck out of my room Keene."
He furrows his brows in a toxic coctail of anger and confusion. "Why? You can't get pissed at me for this Y/n. We aren't fucking dating. Don't get all aggro on me like you're some psycho girlfriend when you're a friend with benefits at best."
Y/n stands up and pushes the boy out of her room. "Get the fuck out of here Robby! If it didn't mean anything why don't you go fuck her then? Go whine about your mommy issues and daddy issues to her and leave me the hell alone."
"You have some nerve you know that right? Don't act all high and mighty now. You're a whore. Why the hell would I ever actually take you seriously when I can get everything I want without the label or work. You're easy, I could never do that shit with Sam."
Her breath was stuck in her throat as the boy she truly thought cared began to berate her as if she was a random person on the street. The boy she suffered for. The boy that was really never her's to keep. Y/n forces herself to wipe her anrgy tears and push Robby once again.
Y/n's hands were shaky, she desprately wanted to cry. To scream. To give in and give him the satisfaction of getting to her. "Oh so you can come over whenever you want, make me listen to your shitty life, and basically force yourself into my own life, but all that means nothing right? Well guess what Kenne. You kissed her, and she still doesn't want you!" She presses her finger into his chest while her voice level rises. "That same girl is still with Miguel. So just because you wanna jump ship and 'upgrade' doesn't mean she wants anything to do with you. Face it babe, you're just white trash."
"Shut the fuck up Y/n." Robby practically spits back.
"Oh, so you can disrespect me and belittle me in my own fucking room, but when its you its a problem? Grow up Robby. You're a man baby and a hypocrite. In what world is that fair Robby? Maybe in your little made up fantasy where Sam picks you and you leave me for dead. So go stay there. Cause you're sure as hell not welcome here."
Y/n throws everything he's given her at him. Every last peice a memory they shared together. Posters, drawings, braclets, anything that adorned her room. All of it thrown to him and crashing down like victims of a violent storm. Tears streamed down her face as he backed up to her door.
She opens the door for him and grabs his sweater and keys before shoving it in his chest. The boy watches her dumbfounded.
"Stay away from me Robby. Go back to some other slut that can put up with your baggage and shitty attitude for one night stand status. Because I'm done."
He looks at her, but there wasn't the girl he knew looking back at him. Not with how she glared, not with how she stood, and not with how she felt. Her eyes, the e/c irises reflected love, now they were dark. Harbors for her contempt. The grimace on her face was unforgettable. Especially as the last thing he seen before she slammed her door on his face.
Robby swallows the spit in his mouth, a hard lump of guilt not wanting to go down. He didn't think any of this would happen. He wanted her to care, but he didn't want to fight. His temper, his father's god forsaken temper, and his own damned ego.
He wanted what he had with her, with Sam. The girl next door with a rich family and big house. Like something out of a book. Not the girl that did whatever he said for the sake of making him happy. He really did want to just abandon her, didn't he? After everything.
Choking back his frustrations the boy marches down her stairs and lets himself out. He liked what he had with her, but he wouldn't fight for her. Guys only did that for the girl they want.
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into-the-grey · 1 month ago
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~Tightrope~
Noah x F!Reader Fic
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Summary: I got sick, and he left me here. Am I really too broken to be loved?
W.C: 4.7k
Taglist: @anything-more-than-human @blend-in-with-the-madness @rumoured-whispers @thisbicc
Warnings: sadness, angst, disability, medical topics, possibly incorrect medical info, depiction of cardiac emergency, talk of overdose.
PLEASE UNDERSTAND, I'm not glorifying disability. I'm venting. The disability depicted in the story is my own, and it pisses me off to no end some days, so I wanted to write a lil about it and make something cathartic.
Masterlist
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I'd watched him countless times on that stage. I'd watched him psych himself up, getting ready to give the performance of his life every single time. I couldn't help it, he was magnetic. Something about the mysterious person he became when he stepped out into the eyes of the people, it's like he became this untouchable being, the king in his castle.
I'd watched him despair when he couldn't do it. Whether he'd blown his voice out, or he burned himself out trying to do everything all at once. His house of cards had come tumbling more than once, but never enough to bring everything to an end. Every time, I watched him build it back up, meticulous in his method.
I watched him learn, grow, and evolve. And every step he took, I took with him. I wanted to be there, supporting him like a good friend does.
And then I got sick. And then I fell apart. 
I didn't get cancer, or some kind of terminal disease, it wasn't that dramatic. It was simple, yet so frustratingly limiting. My body wouldn't agree with me, forcing me to stand still when I wanted to run with him on his ever upward trajectory. All because of one small malfunction in my hardware.
My heart. Literally. A tiny piece of scar tissue, likely caused by a dumb choice I'd made when I was younger involving some Lexapro and an ex-boyfriend's snide comment, had begun to generate its own electric current. Because, in case you didn't know, that's how your heart works if you dumb it down. Little electric currents run across it and stimulate the different chambers, starting at the top and ending at the bottom. Humans create our own electricity, and that's what keeps us alive. Neat, huh?
When it works the way it should, sure. 
But mine didn't anymore. This stupid piece of scar tissue was generating its own current, and it made my heart beat out of sync. It was scary as hell when we first found it. I couldn't breathe, and my heart was pounding in my chest. I tried so hard to play it off as anxiety, I didn't want anything to be wrong with me. But Noah...
He called the ambulance; he held my hand through the scans and the blood tests and the ECGs. He stayed with me in that hospital for four days while the doctors decided how bad it was and what to do with me. He held my hand when they told me the prognosis. He celebrated with me when they told me I wasn't in immediate danger, and he kept me calm when they told me the risks.
Yeah. Apparently, it's not meant to be dangerous, and it's an easy fix. Mine didn't want to be easy. Mine was infuriating, because while it was only a minor problem and an easy fix, the wait for the surgery was never ending. I had to live with it, and the medication, and the anxiety, every single day. I hated every moment of it.
Feeling defective isn't easy. You feel like everyone is looking at you like you're about to break. It makes you think you might, that you're this fragile thing, one breath might knock you down. And the side effects of your body not working...
You lose muscle tone, you gain weight because you can't go to the gym anymore, your skin gets aggravated from lying on pillows all the time...
You spiral, because the world goes on without you while you're waiting to be fixed. You want to run with them, but you can't. You want to be a part of it, but any odd feeling in your chest scares you. You spend so much time in hospital because doctors always say "It's probably nothing, but just to be sure..."
And then when you see the people you care about, you're not you anymore. You're different. You feel ugly, you feel like a freak. Like this broken doll, cast aside and waiting until someone comes along with a needle and thread to fix you.
Noah had to keep living though. He went on tour, he ruled his kingdom, and when he came home from his tour, I swear he looked at me with pity. It broke me. I was his friend, and suddenly it was like he didn't know how to talk to me anymore. It was like he was worried that almost every topic would upset me, or trigger me, and nothing I said could change it.
If I could have gotten drunk over it, I would have. Stupid fucking medications.
We didn't speak for a while. I felt so alone. Sometimes I caught the three dots in our conversations. He'd type something, think better of it, and delete it. It hurt more every time.
He was the one person who I never thought would see me as something broken. I wondered if maybe the weight I'd gained had embarrassed him, even though it wasn't much. I wondered if maybe I just wasn't the person he wanted to be seen with anymore. 
I just wasn't enough, I guess. Maybe I never had been.
Swallowing the crush I'd had on him when we were teens was hard enough, but this? I couldn't swallow losing him like this. Not over something so fucking stupid.
So, I texted him, asking if he was busy. And thus, the ball rolled.
Hey, are you doing anything? - Y/N
Not at the moment, what's up? - Noah
I was hoping I could talk to you about something. Can I call? - Y/N
Of course, is everything okay? - Noah
Not really... - Y/N
Should I come over? - Noah
Your call, I'm fine either way - Y/N
I'm on my way, be there in 15 - Noah
A part of me rejoiced, seeing that he could still read me. 'Your call' was once a distress signal for the two of us. A sign that we were sinking alone, and we needed a friend. He'd been the one to start it, and it stuck.
So, he did, I waited in my apartment for Noah's truck to pull up in the visitor's spot outside. While I waited, I ran through everything I wanted to say to him. I tried to figure out how to say it to him. Part of me wanted to beg him just to see me how I once was, to look at me without the pity in his eyes. Another part of me was tempted to tell him that if he couldn't, he could go fuck himself.
I couldn't do that though. I'd miss him too much.
I wrapped myself in my knitted blanket, curled up on the couch with a pillow in my lap. The Great British Bake Off played on my TV, filling the room with a warm hum of sound. To an outsider, the room full of plush pillows and soft blankets seemed welcoming. The pictures on the walls were cozy, and the black suede couch begged to be reclined on in luxury.
To me, it was home. In the same vein, it was hell. 
This apartment had become my prison. I had nowhere to go anymore, nothing to do. Normally when I wasn't at work I would bounce back and forth between the studio and Noah's house, or I'd be out on adventures with him and the band. Since getting sick, I'd been stuck here. I worked from home because my boss was too afraid something might happen to me in the office. He framed it as a generous offer, trying to be kind and thoughtful, but I knew he just didn't want to deal with the insurance paperwork if something did happen.
I had spent months in this solitude. I had nothing to break up the monotony of my days. I thought being disabled was bad enough, the depression that came with the isolation only made things unbearably worse. All I saw every day were the same four walls, the same programs, the same rooms. I was getting cabin fever and there was nothing I could do about it. The most I ever left home for was groceries and doctor’s appointments. Not exactly a thrilling existence.
So, when I saw the headlights illuminate my curtains, a part of me lit up. It was sick how excited I got at the idea of a visitor. I was like a puppy hearing their owner come to the door, practically unable to hide the vibrating eagerness in my chest.
Noah's truck rolled smoothly through the parking lot and into the visitor parking on the other side of my living room wall. The joys of ground floor living, I saw everything that happened in the complex.
The truck door slammed, and his footsteps trudged along the stamped concrete, making his way to the buzzer at the security door. The steps seemed slow, almost unwilling to be there. For a moment I wondered if I should tell him to go home, that it was nothing and he didn't need to worry about it.
Instead, I stood up and shuffled my way over to the intercom by my front door. The panel lit up with a video feed as the bell chimed. I saw Noah standing by the door, his feet shuffling awkwardly in his sneakers while he kept his hands jammed in the pocket of his hoodie. His head hung, staring at the concrete while he waited for me to let him in.
I could have lifted the receiver and said something. A long time ago, I would have made a joke, I might have said something vaguely pervy like "ooh, you look better when you're awake," and he would have laughed. Instead, I silently pushed the button to unlock the door. He reached for the handle, yanking it open. I heard the click in the hallway as the video feed shut off, and I opened the front door to my side.
His oversized form dawdled toward me, his head still down and watching his shoes. Everything about his stance screamed that he wanted to turn around and go home. It had my stomach sinking as he grew closer.
When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were ringed with purple bags. He looked exhausted. He looked at me with a tired smile, nodding at me. 
'Hey,' he said quietly. 
'Hey,' I said, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders and smiling weakly. I stepped to the side, letting him step into the apartment. He slunk past me and headed straight to the couch, plopping down and patting the cushion, inviting me to sit beside him.
The front door swung closed, and I twisted the lock before joining him on the couch. Turning the TV off, I shifted to face him, choosing to rip the Band-Aid off. Seeing his hollow eyes made it harder, but I was determined.
I swallowed, balling my hands into fists beneath the blanket and hanging my head. 
'You've been avoiding me,' I said flatly. 
Noah froze, leaning back and shifting his position. He turned, one leg bent on the couch and the other foot on the floor while his hands hung in his hoodie pocket. I watched him open and close his mouth a few times, clearly caught off guard by my words.
'I...' he stammered out, unable to finish his sentence. He was going to say he hadn't been, but he couldn't lie to me like that. He'd never been able to.
'I wish I could say it's okay, but I can't help wondering why,' I said, chewing on my lip as I looked at him. It was out in the open now, and I felt the weight in my stomach. My heart pumped hard in my chest, the sensation making me nervous as I monitored the beats. 
'I didn't mean to,' he said quietly. 'We were busy, and things slipped, and I didn't know how to come back.'
I shook my head. 'Noah, I know you. Distance has never been an issue for us, and it's not like I'm across the country this time. I'm right here, and you haven't come to see me. You won't even text me back. It's like you don't want to be around me-'
'I do, I swear,' he cut me off, his hands tensing in his pocket. 'I just...'
'You just what?' I probed, trying to keep my voice steady. My throat tightened, and my voice threatened to crack. 'You don't want to be seen with me anymore? I gained weight and I got boring-'
'No!' he said, shaking his head and freeing his hands from his pockets. 'God no! I don't care about any of that, you know I don't! Why would you ever think that?'
'Because I feel like that?' I shot back. 'I feel like this damaged thing, and no one knows what to do with me. You backed off when I got diagnosed. It makes sense that this stupid thing is the reason. So, what, you're scared I'm gonna drop dead? You think I'm broken? You think it's too much to handle? To gross to look at?'
The words spewed fast, and Noah's face fell as I spoke. He watched as my breath came quick and I stumbled over my tongue. He reached for my hands, fishing for them in the blanket and taking them in his, holding them tightly.
'I just feel like this burden that no one wants to bear. People treat me like I'm made of glass, and they're too scared to handle me. Or like I'm not me anymore. It's fucking lonely, Noah. You were meant to be my best friend, and you fucking disappeared on me. Tour is one thing, but no calls? No texts? It's like you think I died.'
Noah shook his head, shuffling closer.
'I didn't mean to; I swear to you-'
'So why?' I coughed. All too aware of my own body, my chest ached, and my stomach turned. The defective organ screamed at me, and my brain begged for calm. The odd palpitation in my chest rang alarm bells in my mind, scaring me worse. Had I worked myself up into another hospital visit? That was the last thing I wanted. I needed answers, not more pity.
'Because I was scared. I still am. But not for the reasons you think,' Noah finally admitted, hanging his head in shame. His thumbs ran over my knuckles, my skin pale compared to his inky works of art. His hair hung like a thin curtain in front of his eyes, hiding his expression from me.
'Why, Noah?' I begged. 'Because if this is forever, I need to know. I need to be able to stop hoping we'll go back to how it was.'
'It's not forever,' he told me, his voice low. 'It wasn't even meant to be this long. I got scared because when I saw you that way, I didn't know what to do. For the first time ever, it was something I couldn't handle.'
'There's been a lot of things you can't handle,' I said, squeezing his fingers in mine. 'I don't expect you to be able to handle everything.'
He nodded, lifting his head and shaking his hair from his eyes. 'I know, but I couldn't fix this. I can't fix this. That scares the hell out of me. The idea that at any moment, you could go blue again and your heart might fuck up in a way that I don't understand... I was so sure I was about to lose you, Y/N...'
'So, you pushed me away instead?'
He nodded again; his lips tight as his eyes glassed over. 'I know, it doesn't make sense.'
'It does, but it still hurt. Out of sight, out of mind, right?'
'I guess,' he said. His shoulders slumped. 'God, I'm such an asshole. I made this all about me, and you're the one in danger.'
I rolled my eyes. 'That's the thing, Noah. I'm really not. Sure, I have to be a little more careful and I can't have caffeine anymore, but I'm still me. I'm not dying, I'm not going anywhere, I'm just waiting until they can fix me so I can do the things I used to do.'
'I wish I could get that through my head,' he sighed. 'I wish I could stop seeing it. That night...'
That night. The night it all went wrong.
I didn't think anything of it. I'd been messing around with the guys, throwing things and playing keep-away with Noah's phone. We'd been joking about some girl he'd been texting, making kissy faces at him and pretending to text her back.
Noah tackled me onto a beanbag, taking me down with a hard thump as the beanbag slid across the floorboards and up against the wall.
His arms were around me, grappling for his phone. I let him have it, lying breathless and curled up against him. We laid together, everyone laughing and joking as Noah pretended to be mad at us.
He got his breath back quickly, but mine didn't come. It wasn't until five minutes later that we realised I was still panting. 
'Are you okay?' Noah asked jokingly, rolling to his back and pulling me into his lap. He leaned to look up at my face, his hand on my back.
'I think so, I just don't have super strong singer's lungs like you,' I joked. Looking back at him, that was when I saw the nerves. The panic in his eyes would haunt me forever.
His hand flattened on my back, the guys freezing as they looked on.
'What's going on?' Ruffilo asked, furrowing his brow.
'Noah...' I said slowly, getting nervous. The pounding in my chest felt heavier now, like I was being punched from inside my chest, but its rhythm was off. It felt like fluttering, and the longer I sat up, the worse it felt.
'She's going pale dude, get her on the floor,' Ruffilo blurted. 
Noah moved fast, lifting me from his lap and laying me down on the floorboards. He knelt by my side, taking my hand and holding it tight. His eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open while he silently pressed his hand to my chest.
'Something isn't right,' he said, fishing his phone from his pocket and lifting it to his ear.
'Noah, what are you doing?' I coughed, my chest heaving. 
'Just try to stay calm, okay?' he said, his body language completely going against his words. 'Something's wrong, I'm calling an ambulance.'
I didn't argue with him. I didn't dare. If Noah said something was wrong, then something was clearly wrong. 
The phone didn't ring for long, and he asked for an ambulance with a hitch in his voice. He rattled off my name, my age, and the address to the dispatcher, all the while holding my hand for dear life.
'She's breathing really heavily,' he told them, ‘And her heartbeat feels wrong. I had my hand on her back, and it felt like it was skipping.'
I laid still, a chill seeping through my body at his words. Something was wrong, and it was with my heart. The organ that's meant to keep you alive. The most important part of a human body, and mine was malfunctioning.
I barely noticed my breathing speed up, I felt like I was going to be sick. The cold feeling prickled my skin, a cold sweat breaking out on my face while I screwed my eyes up. My ears began to ring, Noah's voice suddenly sounding far away. 
The urge to throw myself into a sitting position was almost impossible to ignore, but I knew Noah would only pin me down. He wasn't about to let me go anywhere.
'Noah,' I whimpered, trying to hold onto whatever composure I had left. My grip on his hand was iron clad, holding it for dear life.
'Y/N?' he called to me. Footsteps began to rush around the room, but they sounded like they were underwater.
My vision darkened, and I strained to look at Noah. It hurt to look, but I was determined to keep my eyes on him.
'I can't...' I tried to say, but my whole body had started to shut down on me. 
'Y/N,' Noah called again, squeezing my fingers tightly, 'come on, Y/N, stay awake, stay with me.'
I wanted to. I wanted so badly to stay with him. But my body had other ideas. 
I felt my fingers loosen in his, the strength fading. I felt him grip tighter. I heard his panicked cries as they distorted into static. I saw him scream. I saw the world close in around his wide eyes. I felt the heavy footsteps rattling the floorboards beneath me.
And then, nothing.
That night.
'That night was my anxiety getting the better of me, Noah,' I said softly, the familiar flush of shame in my cheeks. I had thought about it a lot too. I hated the idea that Noah saw me like that. I hated the idea that he had to watch my brain shut me down because I was too scared. It was mortifying.
'It was more than that, Y/N,' he argued. 'I was sure you were gone. I thought that I'd...' he stopped himself. I knew the look. His eyes flitted between his hands and the carpet, pursing his lips tightly. Whatever he was going to say, he'd never said it out loud before.
My eyes stung. Seeing him like this, it broke me. He'd been holding on to something, dealing with all of this alone. Just like me. 'Talk to me, Noah, please,' I begged.
He drew in a deep, shaky breath, his teeth sinking into his lower lip while he debated if he should admit it. 
'I thought I'd killed you. I thought maybe we'd been roughhousing too hard, and that maybe tackling you was what caused all of this,' he finally said. 'I haven't been avoiding you, I've been avoiding the guilt, because every time I look at you, I see you on the floor again. I see you barely breathing, and it feels like it was my fucking fault-'
I threw myself at him, pulling him close in a crushing hug. My blanket fell from my shoulders as his arms wrapped around me, hesitant to squeeze back.
'Noah, for fucks sake, hug me, I won't break,' I demanded, feeling the way he trembled. As if waiting for permission, his arms tightened, holding me in a way I hadn't realised I'd missed so much.
'I'm so fucking sorry,' he said, burying his face in my hair. 'I'm so sorry.'
'This isn't your fault, Noah, you know that,' I soothed, inching closer to him. 'We know why this happened, and I did it to myself, remember? I was an idiot.'
'I know, but I fucking left you when you needed someone. You needed me and I wasn't here, just like last time-'
'You are not blaming yourself for that, are you?' I asked, pulling back and looking at his face. His bloodshot eyes met mine, his lips pursed shut in a tight pout. 'Noah,' I said, 'do you really blame yourself for me being a fucking idiot?'
'I didn't answer the phone,' he said. 'If I had, maybe you wouldn't have done it.'
'Fuck, Noah, no,' I shook my head, my whole body sinking. 'It wasn't your fault. None of this is your fault. I overdosed because of Josh. He's the one to blame here, not you. He played me like a damn violin, and I walked straight into it. Thats why this happened. I did the damage, and it came back to bite me.'
'But Josh wouldn't have even been a problem if I'd said something,' he said weakly.
'Are you gonna have a rebuttal for everything?' I asked, a sad smile on my face as I reached up, brushing away a tear that fell down his cheek. 'I'll debunk it all, man. Come on, what would you have said?'
Noah smirked at me. I was glad to see my pathetic attempt at bravado could ease his pain a little. It made my heart settle somewhat. His eyes seemed to sparkle, and I finally saw the familiar face of my best friend looking back at me instead of a gloomy stranger.
I chuckled pathetically, tears running down my own face. 'Come on, what would you have said?' I repeated, stressing the words. 'That he was a jerk? That I could do better?' I goaded, 'or maybe that he was only using me to get to you, you big headed egomaniac-'
'I would have told you that I loved you.'
It was my turn to freeze. His face turned to stone, betraying no emotion. He watched as I processed what he had said, his gaze lowering to my chest as if he could see my heart through the skin.
My blanket pooled around my hips, and I felt exposed without it around my shoulders. Despite the shiver that ran through me, I didn't move to cover myself.
'You could have said that,' I said timidly, 'but would you have meant it? Or would you only have said it because you knew I had a crush on you? like using my feelings against me to protect me?'
Noah moved slowly, his hand running up my spine and letting my reactions guide him. His face drew nearer to mine, and another cool chill ran through me. This time, it was pleasant. My breath stuttered as he closed in on me.
'I can't lie to you about something like that, remember?'
'So why didn't you say anything?'
'Because I didn't think you saw me that way. You looked at everyone but me.'
A nervous gasp hit my throat as his eyes bored into mine. I had dreamed of this for years, swallowing every feeling and living in shame for so long.
'And you looked at everyone but me.'
'Not true,' he contested. 'When you weren't looking at me, I was always looking at you. You were all I saw. You've always been what I want. That's why it broke me to think I was losing you; to think I'd done this to you. I thought you deserved better.'
My breath caught in my throat, my fingers tracing down his cheek and resting on his neck. My heart thundered in my chest, and for once I was okay with it.
'And what do you think now?' I breathed.
'I think that I want to be the man you deserve,' his low voice whispered, our faces so close I could almost taste him. 
'You always have been.'
I leaned closer, gently pulling him closer to me. His lips met mine tenderly, barely touching.
'Don't be scared,' I breathed, 'I won't break.'
He huffed a soft laugh. 'You're sure?' 
I nodded, thumbing over his jaw. He grinned, kissing me properly. His lips pressed against mine and his hand nestled into the nape of my neck, holding me to him in desperation. I smiled into the kiss, my body alight with sensation as he ran his fingers into my hair.
I twisted my fingers into his hoodie, needing to feel him against me. He gladly took the hint, propping himself onto his knees and turning to lay me down on the couch. Our lips only parted long enough for him to find his place over me and settle me against the cushions. 
His body laid over mine, the pressure welcome against my lonely skin. His fingers glided over me, running from my hips to my jaw while I tried to commit his lips to memory.
'Noah,' I breathed between kisses. 
'Sorry,' Noah stopped, hovering just over my face and eyeing me with concern. 'Too much?'
'God no,' I shook my head with a giggle, 'I'm okay, but I wanted to tell you something.'
'Oh?'
'I missed you.'
He smirked at me, pecking my lips again. 'I missed you too.'
'I'm glad you came over tonight.'
'So am I.'
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hexedwinchester · 4 months ago
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Early seasons of SPN are superior
so I'm re-watching Supernatural (I'm always re-watching SPN, don't mind me) and I realised why the early seasons are so freakin good whereas the laters ones are a complete mess...
Horror was the core theme of Supernatural (yes, I'm not discarding the brothers' drama, I'll get to it in a minute). These beautiful scare tactics that they employed were amazing: the crib mobile toy rotating, shadows moving out of the corner of the eyes, toys going off, subtle bloody Mary reflections in the mirror, creepy skulls dug from the ground, the ghosts flickering. Hell yea they nailed 'Scary just got sexy' with these.
Don't get me started on the background music. Whimsical music crescendo, building up the anticipation. The rock music blaring through the Impala. What happened to the cool ass music in the later seasons? They just played this weird, sad tune like someone's blowing raspberries to show grief and that's it!
Monster of the week theme and the lores/legends in early seasons were much, much better than S12's Foundry or the later season episode with bizarre tentacle porn thingy (you know which one I'm talking about). It just didn't feel the same. The stories were poorly written and even more poorly executed.
Early seasons used to be purely about Sam and Dean (as it should have been throughout) Them against the world, heaven and hell. No dumbass angel lurking in the background like a pathetic third wheel. No king of hell bitching about his sad childhood for two whole seasons. No Soccer mom half assing their way into hunting.
Foreshadowing was done so beautifully! Everytime I re-watch the early seasons I find a few bits that connects to something that happened initially in say S1-2. The parallels are done beautifully and writing is good, and I mean 'I wanna use this quote as a wallpaper' good.
The struggle for the boys was real. They had to do their own research, save their own asses, stitch their wounds, pop their dislocated shoulders back in the place. Later seasons? Bunker has answer to everything, angel healing wounds with a flash of light, Lucifer bringing Sam back from the dead without asking for anything (and no, taking him to Jack is not a good enough bargain), Jack healing wounds or whatever. Where is the damn struggle?! Where is the hero's journey?!
I miss the beautiful, colourful motel rooms that had its own personality. I HATE the bunker (yes I know a lot of people love it because Dean has a good shower, they have a home etc, etc) but no! Bunker is lame and boring and monotonous. There isn't a single thing I like about it. Gimme back my motel rooms with the sunburst mirror!
Story arc or lack thereof from S12 onwards. The main plot just got duller and duller from S12 onward and it felt like the writers got lazy and stopped putting efforts. There was no build up and the plot felt forced. The main arcs didn't feel exciting enough. BMoL and Kelly's pregnancy: the who and why? Jack: predictable. Other Micheal and Micheal Dean: meh, next! God as the big bad: interesting but I don't think they have it in them to execute this correctly.
Irrelevant/Unnecessary characters and their mini plots. S1-5 focuses purely on the brothers and that's what I'm here. I don't care how and why an idiot angel opened purgatory. It sounded more like a dull spin off plot than main story arc. I don't care about prophets and their lives (yeah Kevin is in Advance Placement, what am I to do with that?). I don't care about the different angel garrisons at war (again a plot for a lame spin off). I don't care about Crowley, his son or his relationship with Rowena. Tell me how this affects the boys. If it doesn't, please let's move on. Whatever was going on with Cole Trenton was pointless. I don't care about Mary and her hunting escapades with BMoL. I don't care about Kelly's pregnancy. The multi-universe and all characters they vomited back in the show with this. Not needed! Let Charlie, Gabriel and Bobby's memory rest in peace. Nick's killer storyline and wayward sisters. Enough said. Empty and the deal with Cas and Meg 2.0? Boring! Billy playing the bad cop, the whole death's library? Poorly executed and it turned into a bowl of cold spaghetti. In the end, the focus moved from the boys to useless characters and mini plots. Fuck that! Supernatural is about Sam and Dean and that's about it.
The direction. Later seasons lack the beauty of scenic shots of the landscape, close on up the boys' faces, the lights hitting their faces to show their beauty. Camera angles and slow panning shots. I miss the beauty that were the early seasons.
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chvoswxtch · 2 years ago
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return the favor
pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader x frank castle
summary: you're always there when matt and frank need you, no matter what it is, or what time of day. they decide it's time to return the favor, and show some gratitude.
warnings: all of them. every single one of them. swearing, mentions of blood, explicit sexual content (minors dni, seriously this is like x rated), little bits of fluff sprinkled in
word count: 12.6k
a/n: i'm not even going to apologize. y'all know me by now. y'all know who I am as a person. y'all know I cannot be normal about either one of them, and i've stopped trying to be. my inner slut took over when I wrote this, and it is filthy. it had me sweating like a whore in church. I don't even go to church. i'm not even religious, and I feel like I need to pray for forgiveness after this. this baby is over 30 pages, and it is a ride. ;)
this is my holiday gift to each and every one of you precious angel babies. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated! ❤️
also again, i'm still not sure if the glitch with dark mode has been fixed or not but if you're on dark mode, you may have trouble viewing this. I apologize for any inconvenience reading in advance!
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At this point you weren’t sure who started it this time. Honestly, you weren’t even sure if one of them had started it, or if it was just another argument carrying over from earlier. You’d given up keeping score in their little competition of who could be more ornery. It used to amuse you. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and the big bad Punisher constantly bickering back and forth like an old married couple, muttering under their breath in exasperation at the others' antics, yet still fighting through all that annoyance to come to the other’s defense if need be. If it had been any other night, you might have been entertained. You might have even laughed at how ridiculous they were being. But it was nearly midnight, you were beyond exhausted, and to top it all off, it was absolutely fucking freezing on top of this roof. 
Why were you even here again? Oh yeah, Frank. He had sustained a pretty nasty cut to his arm after what was supposed to be an easy takedown had turned into a confounded ambush. You’d received a simple text from Matt’s burner phone a little over an hour earlier that had just consisted of the words “roof” and “kit”. Using your context clues, you assumed he meant his roof. You didn’t even give it much thought before you were bracing yourself against the November chill for seven blocks, letting yourself in with your emergency spare key and grabbing the medical kit from his bathroom on the way up. Patching up Matt was something you were used to by now, but you were incredibly anxious as to why he wanted you to meet him on the roof of his building. Was he hurt that bad? Could he not even make it inside? Should you call Claire?
Your thumb hovered over her number as you ascended the stairs, however as soon as you heard the familiar mix of combative voices, you rolled your eyes and shoved your phone in your pocket. Pushing open the door, you were met with a sight you had become all too accustomed to in the past few months; Matt and Frank at each other’s throats. When they could agree on something and both be level headed, they worked well together. Great, even. But when they disagreed, and were fueled by rage and their own devastating egos, it was like a front row seat to world war three. There were times you’d had to enlist Jessica or Luke just to pry them apart, needing an indestructible wedge between them until they could be civil.
It didn’t take you long to figure out that Frank was the one in need of aid. There was a large tear in his shirt that was normally snug around his bicep, showcasing a jagged view of torn flesh that was dripping violently with crimson. You could make out a few other cuts and bruises that littered his face from the light coming off the obnoxious billboard across the street. It was harder to tell when Matt was hurt, not only because his suit was deep red, but also because he hid it very well. Not that Frank didn’t hide it just as well. They could both be standing in front of you absolutely covered head to toe in blood with visible gashes and holes and still insist that they were fine. There were streaks of blood around Matt’s mouth and nose, but he otherwise appeared to be in good shape. Loudly clearing your throat, you dropped the kit onto the floor by your feet and placed your hands on your hips as both men’s heads whipped around in your direction.
“Can you two pretend to get along for fifteen minutes so I can do what you called me here for, or would you both rather bleed to death on this roof?”
Seven minutes. They made it seven minutes. You had just finished the final stitch on Frank’s arm when a snide comment from Matt had him unraveling in anger all over again. Tonight seemed to be worse than usual. You couldn’t tell if it was due to the pain from their injuries, the exhaustion from the recent sleepless nights, frustration from lead after lead that kept turning into dead ends, a combination of all of the above, or what. They were in each other’s faces, noses barely a centimeter apart, trading insults like verbal punches in an invisible ring. You were shocked Matt had even called you to help patch up Frank with the way his mouth was curled into a glowering snarl towards him, fists bunched tightly at his sides ready to strike at any moment. 
“If you had just fucking listened to me-”
“Because you got it all figured out, don’t ya Red? Huh? You think them fancy fuckin’ senses of yours make you better than me? I was takin’ terrorist organizations down overseas while you were gettin’ shitfaced off cheap booze in your dorm, but heaven forbid I walk into a fuckin’ building without your goddamn say so.”
“Goddammit Frank, I can hear things you can’t. Like when there’s twenty fucking men armed with guns in a building that’s supposed to be-”
“Your priest know you use such colorful language? You tell him that when you’re confessin’ on Sundays? You even tell him ‘bout all the people you beat the shit out of for fun? Or you leave all that out, altar boy?”
“This isn’t a joke, Frank. They were armed with way more ammunition than we planned for, and there were more of them than there should’ve been. They fucking knew we were coming. If you would have just-”
“Nah, nah. If you had fuckin’ listened to me, we would’ve been fine. If you weren’t such a goddamn pussy, and let me do what the fuck I need to do-”
As much as you tried to drown them out, their voices only got louder and louder. Rubbing your temples with your index and middle fingers did absolutely nothing to soothe the dull ache that had begun to throb in your head. God, they were exhausting sometimes. It amazed you how much they changed when they were together. Matt was usually more calm and collected, and Frank was usually quieter. As much as they brought out the best in each other when they did get along, they brought out even more of the worst when they didn’t. It was like they both had a perfect blueprint of where the other’s buttons were, and always knew exactly where to press. That dull ache in your head was beginning to glow like tiny embers waiting to spark. Your fingers had gone numb from the cold through the thin latex gloves. Your patience had run out half an hour ago, or long before that if you were being honest with yourself. You were pissed they had the audacity to drag you out of your warm bed in the middle of the night just to act like you weren’t there, waiting for them to finish their childish bullshit. The irritation had been wearing you down from the second you stepped onto the roof and you couldn’t take it anymore.
“Would you both just shut the fuck up already? Seriously? I am so sick of listening to the two of you bitch and bicker about every little fucking thing. I have fucking had it with both of you. If you two can’t get your shit together, I swear to God, I’m going to-”
“What? What are you gonna do, sweetheart?”
If you weren’t pissed off already, the arrogant smirk tugging at the corner of Frank’s lips certainly pushed you over the edge. He cocked his head to the side, staring at you with his dark eyes squinted in levity. One of his thick brows rose in challenge, daring you to continue your rant. 
“Aw c’mon, darlin’. Thirty seconds ago you were all big and bad, runnin’ that bratty little mouth of yours. Now you got nothin’ to say?”
“Get your shit together, or I will beat your ass.”
“I think she means that, Frank.”
“No shit? She ain’t lyin’?”
“Nope. Heartbeat’s steady.”
“Well ain’t that cute.”
The teasing tone of Matt’s voice hitting your ears felt like gasoline being thrown on the fire that was already raging within you. A devilish grin stretched over his mouth, showcasing the dimples in his cheeks that you loved so much. Normally the sight of that smile would make you weak in the knees, but right now it infuriated the fuck out of you. Both men were staring at you in complete amusement, smug grins plastered on their faces, and you wanted nothing more than to walk over and slap them off. 
“Fuck you both.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Matt’s response knocked the breath right out of your lungs, and all your anger with it. Your eyes widened in disbelief as you stared at him, jaw dropping slightly. He had never spoken to you like that. Matt was a natural flirt, that was just his personality. He had definitely said a few things that made you question how he really felt about you, and there were a few “accidental” touches that lingered a little too long, but never anything like that. And certainly never in the voice he typically reserved for interrogating criminals. You were completely stunned in place, brain failing to come up with any kind of response. Even though Matt’s words were phrased as an inquisition, it came out more like a confident statement, like a rhetorical question he already knew the answer to.
“Well?”
Frank’s voice seemed to break the trance Matt had you under, your eyes darting over towards his large figure. Somehow he was now only standing about a foot away from you. When did he get so close? How had you missed that? You were used to Matt sneaking up on you constantly since the man was practically a fucking ninja, but Frank wasn’t as stealthy. He was a lot bigger, moved with more force than precision, and commanded every space he stepped into. 
“What?”
“You gonna answer him?”
Frank’s eyes bore into yours as he motioned his head towards Matt, the intensity of his gaze making you feel as if you had shrunk several sizes in his presence. Sometimes you forgot just how big he was, and how menacing he could be when he wanted to. There was something gleaming in the darkness of his eyes that you couldn’t place. His features were set in their usual broody state apart from his mouth that was still slightly curved in a wicked smirk. A sudden shiver descended your spine, but it wasn’t from the cold. Instinctively you took a step back, blinking a few times before staring down at your trembling hands as you removed the bloody gloves.
“I don’t…look just…clean yourselves up. Try not to kill each other, or piss off Matt’s neighbors any more than you already have.”
“Your hands are shaking.”
“It’s cold, Matthew.”
“But that’s not why your hands are shaking. Is it?”
Glancing up, a slight gasp flew from your mouth noticing that Matt was now standing right next to Frank. His head was cocked towards the right, chin jutted out in your direction, studying you intently. You couldn’t see the beautiful honey brown of his eyes that were hidden behind the obsidian lenses of his mask. His voice had dropped even lower, and your stomach dropped down into a pit of nerves along with it. A sobering thought washed over you that your beloved captivating lawyer was not the one standing in front of you; the Devil was. This wasn’t exactly new to you. Sometimes Matt had trouble shifting back into a level-headed state after particularly bad nights, or when patrols left his adrenaline pumping through his veins like rocket fluid. You had witnessed the battle on several occasions between Matthew Murdock and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen for control. But this was…different. He was eerily calm and still, and it made you nervous.
“This ain’t like you, sweetheart. Bein’ all mouthy, actin’ like a damn brat, not answerin’ questions when asked. Where’s our good girl, hm?”
The mega-watt grin that immediately took over Matt’s mouth could have put that blinding billboard behind him to fucking shame.
“Oh, she liked that Frank.”
“Did she?”
“Should’ve heard the way her heart jumped. You are our good girl, aren’t you angel?”
The connection between your brain and your mouth had been severed. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t hardly breathe. Your wide eyes flickered back and forth in dumbfoundment between the two men standing in front of you. Surely, you were hearing them wrong. Were they messing with you? Where was all this coming from? What the fuck was happening?
“C’mon darlin’, use that pretty little head of yours and talk to us. Red asked you a question, yeah?”
There was a hint of teasing that laced Frank’s gravelly voice as his eyes remained fixated on you. Your head was spinning like a rogue carousel and your heart was thrashing to break through your ribcage.
“I…I don’t understand-”
“I think you do, angel. You’re a smart girl, but you’re not subtle. We know what you want, and we’re more than happy to give it to you. Isn’t that right, Frank?”
“S’right, Red. We think you’ve earned it, sweetheart. Takin’ such good care of us, puttin’ up with all our shit, always there when we need ya. We’d like to return the favor, darlin’.”
“See angel, the one thing Frank and I absolutely agree on, is how pretty you’re gonna sound when we ruin you.”
Matt’s confession struck your core like lightning and tore a startled moan of desperation from your throat. His grin stretched even further across his sinful lips, a dark chuckle emitting from low within his chest. Frank’s eyebrows rose a hair in surprise, only for a moment, before that crooked, teeth baring smile of his was back on full display. He joined Matt in sinister snickering, like there was some kind of inside joke you weren’t a part of.
“Do me a favor, Red. Put them damn senses of yours to good use and tell me how wet she is right now.”
There was never a battle with Frank. There was never anyone else fighting for control. With Frank, what you saw was exactly what you got. There was no slipping back and forth, no struggle, there was just…him. Unabashed, unapologetic, shameless Frank. He didn’t hide it when he flirted with you. He didn’t mince words, or speak in riddles. He always said exactly what he meant so there was never any confusing his words or motives. He never pushed it any further than playful banter and flirty remarks, but he also didn’t hide behind the guise of friendly teasing. The order he gave Matt caused your brain to short circuit and you were honestly surprised it hadn’t knocked you onto your knees. Matt’s lips parted slightly, just enough for his tongue to meet the air as he inhaled deeply. A satisfied hum sounded in the back of his throat.
“Not nearly as wet as she’s going to be. But she smells fucking divine.”
“Bet she tastes even better.”
“I can’t wait to find out.”
The next few minutes passed by in a bit of a blur. Frank had thrown you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing more than the duffel bag he hauled around, carrying you down the steps into Matt’s living room with haste. Matt trailed closely behind the two of you, quickly removing his gloves and helmet somewhere along the way. Before you could even register being put back down on wobbly legs, two large hands grabbed your face and a strong pair of lips met your own. Frank.
The kiss was full of passion but surprisingly tender, a sigh of relief echoing in your mouth from him. Frank kissed you deeply, but slowly, wanting to savor the feeling and the taste of you. Matt managed to sneak his hand between your bodies, tugging at the zipper of your jacket and pulling it off your shoulders with ease. He pulled down the left sleeve of your thin sweater, trailing his lips along the exposed skin before nipping and sucking at the junction above your collarbone. The scruff of his facial hair contrasted roughly with the softness of his lips and it made your mind even hazier, a moan tumbling into Frank’s mouth. Matt growled lowly, gripping onto your hips and pulling your ass against his front abruptly so you could feel how hard he was through his suit, earning another whine from you. His hand was nearly halfway into your jeans when Frank reached out to grab his wrist, halting his movements.
“Quit bein’ fuckin’ impatient. We got all damn night.”
“You hear the sounds she’s making Frank?”
“Yeah, and I’d like to hear a lot more of ‘em you selfish little shit.”
You couldn’t help but giggle. Here you were, trapped between two of the most feared men in Hell’s Kitchen, with both of their mouths and hands all over you, and they were still arguing. Your giggles were immediately cut off however when Matt’s teeth sunk down into the flesh of your neck, a surprised moan taking their place. Frank lightly grasped your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head back against Matt’s chest as he caught your gaze. His tongue darted out to wet his lips quickly, motioning his head towards you.
“You want this, sweetheart?”
All you could do was stare up at Frank with half moon eyes. Your brain seemed incapable of manufacturing a single coherent thought. You were too wrapped up in how good it felt to be caged between them. How good it felt to kiss Frank, to be touched by Matt, to be desired by them both. All you could do was feebly nod.
“Need to hear it, pretty girl. Need you to tell us you want us too.”
Matt’s grip on your waist loosened slightly, his nose nuzzling against your cheek as he softly kissed the underside of your jaw and whispered delicately in your ear.
“You can say no, angel. We can all walk away right now, pretend this never happened. We won’t be upset.”
“We never wanna make you uncomfortable, honey. Just wanna make you feel good.”
“Would you like us to make you feel good, sweetheart? Take care of you for all the times you’ve taken care of us? Whatever you want, we’ll give you. Just tell us what you want.”
“Please…”
Frank’s large hand loosely wrapped around your neck, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip slowly as he stared down at you with a timid smile.
“Please what, sweet girl? Hm? Use your words. You want us? You got us. We’re yours. Just say the words.”
Matt slipped his hand underneath the hem of your sweater, tracing slow delicate circles along your hip as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. He placed a featherlight kiss to your burning skin, the edge in his voice from earlier now gone as he whispered sweetly.
“We’re all yours, angel. Always have been. Just tell us you want us too.”
Matt and Frank both put an inch of space between their bodies and yours, as if they could sense how difficult their presence was making it hard for you to think clearly. They were giving you an out if you wanted it. You knew this would completely change everything between the three of you. There would be no going back to how things were before. This decision was permanent, and couldn’t be undone. But God, did you want it. You wanted them. You were momentarily suspended in disbelief that they wanted you too, but you were having an arduous time focusing on why they wanted you, when they had come to this agreement regarding you, and what the morning would look like. The only thing your brain could process was the pure, irrevocable yearning you felt.
You trusted Matt and Frank with your life. You knew you could trust them with your body. The safest you ever felt was in their presence. The safest place you could ever be was confined between them. You wanted them. You loved them. You needed to be consumed by them. 
“I need both of you, please.”
If either of them heard the aching in your divulgence, neither of them acknowledged it. Matt’s fingertips brushed lightly along your sides as he pulled your sweater over your head, eliciting a domino of shivers throughout your body. Your own trembling fingers gingerly pushed Frank’s torn and bloodied shirt up, careful to avoid his fresh injuries along the way. As you sought out his lips, his large hands maneuvered your hips until you were face to face with Matt, his nose brushing against the column of your throat.
“Help Red outta that damn thing, would ya? Otherwise we’ll be here all fuckin’ night.”
A furrow formed between Matt’s brows and his lips parted to protest, but his words were quickly cut off when you grabbed his face to crash your lips together. His hands gripped onto your waist just above where Frank’s had settled, a satisfied groan echoing on your tongue. Matt’s kiss was hungrier, more possessive and needy than Frank’s, and it made your head spin. As your fingers worked at the zipper on Matt’s suit, Frank’s were swiftly popping the button on your jeans and tugging your own zipper down. He left a searing trail of open mouthed kisses from right beneath your ear to down along your shoulder as his large hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties. Greedily peeling the material of Matt’s suit off his broad shoulders, you instinctively bit down on his bottom lip when Frank’s index finger made contact with your clit. Matt moaned at the feeling of your teeth holding his lip captive, shoving the rest of his suit off with impressive speed leaving him only clad in black briefs with a noticeable tent.
“Goddamn, sweetheart. You’ve got these completely soaked through. I guess Red was right.”
You could feel Matt’s prideful smile against your own mouth at Frank’s words as you threaded your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him even more flush against your own body. He groaned again in satisfaction at the gentle tug, and you were suddenly curious what other delicious sounds you could pull out of him. Before you could experiment, Frank slipped one of his thick fingers inside of you and a loud moan filled the empty space.
“Fuck she’s tight. Gonna have to get you nice and ready for us, yeah? Think two oughta do it, Red?”
“She’s been such a good girl, Frank. Let’s give her three.”
“Hm, she has, hasn’t she? S’pose that way we both get a taste then.”
Your head fell back against Frank’s chest as he pumped his finger slowly, already rendering you a whiny incoherent mess. You could just briefly register Matt kneeling before you, grabbing the waistband of your jeans and tugging them down your legs. His touch was lighter when his fingers slipped underneath the sides of your panties, trailing them along your skin with more precise teasing. Matt rubbed his nose along your inner thigh, humming softly as he ever so languidly pulled the fabric down your legs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He gently brushed his fingertips over your ankles, along the sides of your calves, up the backs of your knees, until he had a firm grip on your thighs.
“Looks awful pretty down there on his knees for ya, don’t he?”
Frank was right. Matt did look good on his knees before you, head tipped back and eyes closed in content, lips parted slightly as he inhaled your scent from the source. Suddenly you wanted both of them on their knees for you. Or maybe you wanted to be on your knees for both of them. You reached out with a trembling hand to grab a small fistful of Matt’s hair, moaning softly as Frank slipped a second finger inside you.
“Look so pretty, Matty.”
Matt’s eyes fluttered open, staring blankly up in your direction as a toothy grin took over his entire face showcasing your beloved dimples.
“Not as pretty as you, angel.”
“I think Red deserves a little treat for bein’ so patient, don’t you sweetheart?”
“Yes, Frankie.”
“How ‘bout that, Red? You want a little taste?”
“God, yes.”
“On your feet. You take over.”
If you hadn’t been so wrapped up in your own pleasure, you would’ve been amazed at how quickly Matt followed Frank’s command without an ounce of hesitation or complaint. You whined momentarily as Frank’s fingers slipped out of you, only to quickly be replaced with Matt’s index finger and his thumb pressed firmly against your clit earning another loud moan from you. 
“Open your mouth.”
Once again, Matt quickly complied, parting his plump kiss bitten lips. Your walls clenched around Matt’s finger and a pathetic moan slipped out as you watched Frank shove his two fingers drenched in your slick straight into Matt’s mouth. Matt’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head when your taste met his tongue, eagerly sucking every single drop off of Frank’s fingers. Frank grunted quietly near your ear as Matt moaned softly around his digits. It was the hottest fucking sight you had ever seen.
“Attaboy, Red. Tell me how she tastes.”
Frank retracted his fingers from Matt’s mouth slowly, leaving his lips shining with a coat of spit. His hand quickly found its place once again between your thighs and there seemed to be some kind of unspoken understanding between the two as Matt twisted his wrist to make room for Frank’s hand, allowing Frank to take over stretching you apart as his own fingers worked over your clit to help bring you to your release.
“So fucking good, Frank. Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever had. You’re not gonna be able to get enough.”
“Like I said, we got all night.”
You could die like this, trapped between two walls of soft skin and hard muscle, their skilled hands working together to bring you absolute bliss. You were thankful they had you completely trapped between their chests because otherwise, you wouldn’t have been able to stand. The pleasure was absolutely overwhelming. It was everywhere, all at once, and you weren’t sure if you could survive the fall. You had never felt anything like this. You didn’t even know you could feel like this. That little bubble that normally built up inside you was now simmering like a giant pit of lava inside a volcano dangerously close to erupting. You couldn’t even form the words to warn them, but with the undivided attention of Matt’s senses, you didn’t have to. 
“She’s close, Frank. Keep doing that, right there. That’s it…hold her steady. It’s alright, angel. Just let go for us. We’ve got you, sweetheart.”
“Go ahead, darlin’. C’mon, let us hear those pretty sounds. Don’t hold back, honey. Let us have it all, yeah?”
The edge was painfully far away, just within reach. You were so goddamn close. It just felt too fucking good. You didn’t know if your body was holding out because you just couldn’t handle it, or because it wanted more. Just when it felt like you couldn’t make it, suddenly you were exploding into a million little pieces of gratification and being hurled into the free falling space of absolute bliss. Two pairs of strong hands supported you as you spasmed from the force of the pleasure. Two voices echoed praises and sweet nothings into your ears as you floated outside your own body. Two hearts thudded against your back and chest in sync as they adorned you in their affection. 
Rough calloused fingertips trailed along your cheekbone tenderly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as soft lips traced the shell of your ear. 
“Shh. We got ya, sweetheart. We’re right here, yeah? Easy now, breathe.”
Matt wrapped his arm around your lower back, hooking his other underneath your knees as he pried you from Frank’s embrace and lifted you up bridal style, holding you against his chest. 
“You’re wearing too many clothes, Frank. Get undressed. I’ll take her to bed.”
You weakly brought your hand up to Matt’s neck, wrapping your fingers around the cross necklace that settled between his collarbones. The metal felt surprisingly cool against his heated skin, and the deep inhale you took to control your breathing filled your senses with his intoxicating cologne. You carefully traced one of the scars on the left side of his chest with your fingertip as you crossed the threshold into his bedroom.
“Matty?”
“Yes angel?”
“I like it when you and Frankie get along.”
“Tell him to quit bein’ such a shithead all the time, and you’ll get more of it.”
“And here I was about to be nice and let you have the first taste, Castle. Why don’t you get on your knees and put that fucking mouth of yours to good use. Don’t keep her waiting.”
Matt carefully set you down on the edge of the bed, moving to sit right behind you with his chest pressed flush against your back. You noticed the commanding tone he used with Frank was the exact same one he used in the courtroom when he wasn’t in the mood for bullshit or rebuttal. For the millionth time that night, you were shocked when Frank simply grunted in response instead of verbally retaliating, lowering himself down onto his knees in front of you. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight of Frank nearly naked before you. You had seen him shirtless a few times when he needed fixing up, but never only in briefs before. The fabric clung to his muscular thighs like a second skin, and it made your mouth water the exact same way it did whenever you saw Matt only in his underwear. Your brows furrowed slightly at the sudden realization that Frank had done exactly what Matt instructed in the living room. Since when did they ever follow each other’s orders? And so easily?
“Spread those legs, angel. Let him see you.”
Frank moved in closer towards you as you obeyed Matt’s order, his broad shoulders pushing your thighs even further apart. His large hands slowly made their way from your knees to your inner thighs, his thumbs tracing the softest circles along your skin. You had always wondered about Frank and what he would be like intimately. For a guy who could take down thirty men with his bare hands without batting an eye, he was incredibly gentle. His touch was delicate and reassuring, like he was afraid he might break you, but wanted you to know he was there. Matt wrapped his arm around your waist to hold you tightly against his chest, his other brushing your hair off your shoulder as he kissed your neck softly. He was more like what you had expected. Dominant and possessive, like he had something to prove. Whether that was to you or himself, you weren’t sure. Maybe it was both. He wanted you to know you were at his mercy, and that you belonged to him. Well, him and Frank. 
The only exception to all of Matt’s rules seemed to be Frank now that you thought about it. He was willing to ignore his own moral compass and religious teachings in certain situations involving Frank. He came to Frank’s defense constantly, even if he knew he was in the wrong and would personally give him shit about his choices later. He relinquished control earlier in the living room and followed every single one of Frank’s commands, something he would never do with anyone else. Frank seemed to be the only person Matt willingly submitted to. And despite his overprotective nature, he was sharing you with Frank. Matt seemed to be Frank’s own personal outlier as well. Frank always worked alone. He hated involving other people in what he did, not wanting to deal with the risks and consequences, and just another person in general. It was easier when all he had to worry about was himself. But he had no trouble dragging Matt into the flames at a moment's notice, and never hesitated to reach out to him for help or backup. No matter how much they fought, Frank always purposefully put himself between Matt and whatever threat was coming their way, even if it was just some drunk asshole in a bar trying to pick a fight he knew Matt could easily win. As much as they argued, Frank did actually listen to Matt most of the time, and Matt secretly took Frank’s advice when he knew he was right. They were both just too fucking stubborn to admit that to one another.
“Now who looks pretty on their knees, hm?”
“Frankie does.”
“Tell him, angel. Tell him how pretty he looks on his knees for you.”
You reached your shaky hand out to cup Frank’s cheek, sighing softly at the way he nuzzled his face into your palm. His deep brown eyes were hooded with lust as he stared up at you lovingly, causing your heart to constrict in your chest. He really was beautiful, especially when he smiled. It had taken so long for Frank to open up to you, for you to get to see the happier and more carefree side of him, hear him crack jokes and his amazing laugh. It was always like witnessing some cosmic phenomena, and it made you feel incredibly lucky he wanted to share those parts of himself with you.
“Look so pretty, Frankie. So pretty.”
A lazy grin captured Frank’s lips as he looked at you, turning his head slightly to press a gentle kiss to your palm.
“Thank ya, sweetheart. But I gotta agree with Red here. Ain’t nothin’ as pretty as you.”
“Tell me what you see, Frank. Describe her for me.”
Even though it was a demand, there was an echo of desperation in Matt’s voice. Frank’s eyes softened a little more as they flickered behind you to Matt’s face, the smile faltering on his lips, lingering only for a moment before he let his eyes trail over the expanse of your body. The look was so quick, you would’ve missed it if you hadn’t been paying attention. 
“She looks beautiful, Red. So goddamn beautiful. Let me show you.”
Frank spent the next few minutes describing you from head to toe in explicit detail like you were a piece of art on display in Matt’s lap. He gingerly wrapped his hand around Matt’s wrist, directing his fingers along every inch of your body in sync with his own words. Your heart swelled at how gentle Frank was being with Matt, and how much Matt trusted Frank with his own concealed vulnerability to guide him. You weren’t sure if it was your own shuddering breaths or Matt’s that were echoing in your ears at the mix of both men’s hands tracing your skin. Frank’s gruff voice nestled between your thighs as he spoke, as if he was reciting poetry to create a clear picture in Matt’s head. You grabbed onto both of their wrists and squeezed gently, nearly on the verge of tears from how overwhelmed you felt by their shared affection for you and for each other. Matt’s voice was almost hoarse as he spoke quietly.
“Thank you, Frank. Now show her how beautiful she is.” 
For the next hour and a half, Frank and Matt took turns on their knees with their heads buried in your needy cunt. They alternated spots, one pressed up against your back teasing your nipples and fondling your breasts with their mouth latched on your neck as they praised you while the other held your hips hostage against their face with your legs over their shoulders, using their skilled tongue to bring you to euphoria. 
Frank took his time with you, slowly delving his tongue inside you over and over as his large nose continuously bumped against your clit. His grip was firm, but tender, letting you rock your hips against his face as much as you wanted as you tugged him impossibly closer by his dark tresses. He grunted every time you pulled at his grown out hair and the vibrations had your thighs quivering and sent your mind into a frenzy. He drew your orgasm out as long as he could, groaning against your core as he collected every single drop of the ambrosia that he wrung from you. 
Matt tried so hard to take his time with you, but he was so overwhelmed by your scent and his own carnal desire that he couldn’t help himself. He had Frank restrain your hands as he edged you, his grip on your hips almost bruising as he dug his fingertips into your skin. He sucked fervently on your clit, filling the bedroom with obscene slurping sounds as he devoured your pussy. Frank helped hold you in place so Matt could get what he wanted. Every time he could feel you about to come, Matt would slow down and give himself a moment to breathe before diving right back in. He didn’t want it to be over so fast, but he also wasn’t fully able to contain his own selfish need. He would’ve stayed buried between your thighs all night if you let him. 
Eventually Frank couldn’t take your pleading cries of his and Matt’s names anymore and lightly slapped at the back of Matt’s head. When he went to pull away again, Frank grabbed a fistful of Matt’s hair and shoved his face right back into your cunt.
“C’mon Red, listen to her. Let her come. You’ve had your fill, you can come back for more later. She ain’t goin’ nowhere. Let her have it.”
As you descended from your third orgasm of the night, your body felt completely spent. Your eyes felt heavy as you struggled to keep them open, not wanting to miss a second of this spectacle. If this was a one time thing, you wanted every part of it burned into your memory for later, because nothing would ever be as good as this. Frank shifted slightly behind you, and you felt the hardness of his cock brushing against your lower back. A slight gasp left your lips once you realized just how long both of them had been patiently waiting for their own attention. Matt had already been completely hard when he removed his suit, and you had felt the bulge in Frank’s jeans against your ass. A spark of energy jolted you awake as you were suddenly filled with the urge to have your own turn on your knees. 
Frank’s grip tightened on your waist when he felt you move at the exact same time as Matt’s hands clamped down even harder on your thighs.
“Where you goin’, sweetheart?”
“I…what about you and Matty?”
“What about us, angel?”
“I wanna make you feel good too.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout us, honey. Red here is finally gonna make it to heaven when you let him inside that pretty little pussy of yours.”
“And Frank is gonna be so fucking satisfied when he comes inside you, he might not be a complete asshole for an entire week.”
You tried your hardest to wiggle out of their grasps but it was no use. They were a lot stronger than you, and they weren’t budging. You whined as they both chuckled at your pathetic attempt to escape them, seeking out the erect tent in their briefs with your needy hands.
“But I wanna touch…I wanna taste you both, too. Please?”
“This is s’posed to be about you, honey.”
“No, that’s not fair. This is for all of us, not just me. It’s just as much for you and Matty. Isn’t it? Don’t you want my mouth, Frank?”
“Fuckin’ hell sweetheart, course I do.”
“Don’t you Matty?”
“I’d love nothing more than to fuck your mouth, angel. But I’m afraid right now, I’m way too fucking hard, and I wouldn’t be able to last. I don’t want to come unless it’s inside you.”
“I gotta side with Red on this one, darlin’.”
“But-“
Matt’s hand quickly wrapped around the base of your throat as he leaned in to capture your lips, cutting off your protest entirely. He applied just enough pressure to make your head spin, nipping lightly at your bottom lip before soothing the sting with his tongue.
“Next time.”
Your eyes flew open, grabbing onto Matt’s wrist tightly as he loosened his grip on your neck. He was sitting up on his knees now so that you were face to face, a tender smile tugging lightly at the corners of his mouth. Blinking a few times, you turned your head so that you could look up at Frank.
“Next time?”
Frank glanced down at Matt before looking back at you, a shy smile taking over the left side of his mouth. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips, placing his hand at the base of your neck right below where Matt’s was.
“Next time.”
You immediately gave up on your protest and allowed Frank to pull your body up the bed as he moved backwards. You felt giddy with anticipation, your brain going completely haywire as both of their promises rang deafeningly in your ears.
Next time. There was going to be a next time. 
“How you feelin’ honey? Think you can give us one more?”
“Yes…yes anything.”
Matt chuckled lowly at the desperation in your voice as he climbed onto the bed in front of you.
“Such a good girl. Still taking care of us when it’s our turn to care for you. Tell you what, if you help me out of these, you can touch me. But you have to help Frank too. Can you do that for us, angel?”
“Yes, God yes. Please Matty…let me help.”
“Alright sweetheart, go ahead.”
Your nimble fingers dragged Matt’s briefs down his thighs as soon as he finished his sentence, causing you to gasp when his cock finally sprang free and slapped against his stomach. A quiet sigh of relief left his lips. The head was nearly as deep in maroon as his suit and leaking with desire. As you wrapped your hand delicately around the base of his impressive length, a louder declaration of appeasement slipped past Matt’s lips, jaw going slack and hips jolting forward when you swiped your thumb across the sensitive tip. 
“Fuck.”
“Easy darlin’, Red’s sensitive. He’s been waitin’ patiently this whole time like a good boy. Ain’t he? Be good to him.”
Matt let out a quiet whimper, and you weren’t sure if it was from Frank’s words or the way you were gently pumping your hand around his cock but it had your walls fluttering either way. You could tell Matt was doing everything he could to not fuck your hand, bottom lip caught between his teeth so hard blood pooled beneath the skin, hips stuttering ever so slightly in time with your movements. His face was a mix of lingering agony and pure pleasure and it piqued your curiosity about just how sensitive he was.
“Are you okay Matty? Do you want me to stop?”
“I…just-shit…fuck that feels good. I-”
“Make him come, sweetheart.”
“Frank-”
“Don’t be stubborn. You’ll be ready to go again in five minutes and you know it. Stop fuckin’ torturin’ yourself. Go ahead and give him your mouth, darlin’.”
“But that’s not-”
“Would you just shut the hell up? You ever stop talkin’? Consider it a goddamn peace offerin’. I can wait. I’m not as sensitive and overwhelmed as you. Just fuckin’ take what you’re given, shit. You’re gonna come in two minutes anyway.”
“God-fuck…fine. You get to fuck her first, then.”
“Pleasure doin’ business with ya. Sweetheart, be a good girl and do as you’re told. Let Red have your mouth.”
You didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as you parted your lips to take the head of Matt’s cock into your mouth, he was shoving himself down your throat. His hands frantically gripped onto your neck and the back of your head, holding your face in place as he fucked your mouth relentlessly. You opened your mouth as wide as you could and hollowed out your cheeks, wanting to provide him as much pleasure and satisfaction as he had given you. The moans and whines of appreciation that tumbled from his mouth were fucking music to your ears. He looked so beautiful above you, head thrown back in ecstasy and eyes squeezed shut in absolute content. A loud slap cut through Matt’s symphony of fulfillment and his eyes snapped open, slowing the pace of his hips considerably as his brows furrowed in confusion. It took a moment for you to realize that Frank had slapped one of Matt’s hands away from your face.
“Slow down, Matthew. I said use her mouth, not suffocate her. Ease up.”
Your stomach clenched at the hardened warning tone of Frank’s voice. It was also the first time you had ever heard him call Matt by anything other than his nickname for him. Something about it seemed so intimate, and it set your insides ablaze. Matt tipped his head down in your direction, clenching his jaw as he struggled to gain control of himself.
“Fuck…sorry angel, I’m-shit…God just feels so fucking good. Your mouth is so warm…soft. Shit- if this is what your mouth feels like…God-”
You hummed in response, giving his thigh a gentle squeeze and beginning to bob your head to signal for him to keep going. It only took a few more thrusts before warmth coated the back of your throat with a vengeance over and over as Matt finally climaxed. You thanked whatever God was listening that you got to witness the exquisite sight above you of Matt Murdock having an orgasm. It made butterflies erupt in your belly thinking about how soon you’d get to witness the exact same phenomena with Frank Castle.
Matt fell back onto his heels as his chest heaved, panting like he had just ran a fucking marathon. A swell of pride filled your chest as you swallowed every single drop he had offered you, a newfound wave of confidence settling in your veins at the sight of him disheveled before you knowing that you had done that to him. You had brought the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen to his knees and rendered him breathless. And you had no intention of stopping there. 
All night, both of them had been trading control with each other, taking turns in making demands. You weren’t in the mood to trade or take turns. You were in the mood to take. 
As you turned around to face Frank who had a cocky smirk on his lips, you channeled all the power surging through you and shoved roughly at his chest until his back hit the mattress. His body bounced slightly from the impact, the arrogance long gone as his mouth fell open in surprise.
“Take those off.”
“Sweetheart-”
“I said take them off, Frank. Be a good soldier and follow your orders.”
Frank’s jaw hung suspended in disbelief. His eyes widened at your command and his pupils dilated slightly. Shock was written clearly across his features, but he obeyed anyway. The second his briefs were down his thighs, your hand was wrapped firmly around his massive cock and he grunted lowly in response.
“You both asked me what I wanted, didn’t you?”
“Yes but-”
“And I said I wanted to touch, didn't I? That I wanted a taste of my own?”
“But we agreed-”
“I changed my mind. You both got to play. It’s my turn. You’d never deny me, would you, Frankie?”
“Angel, we all agreed-”
“Shut up, Matthew. I wasn’t speaking to you. I asked Frank. Frankie, baby?”
“Fuck, course not.”
A cheshire grin split your lips as you slowly worked Frank over in your hand, reveling in the feeling of his velvet heaviness in your palm. His eyes were trained directly on you, watching your every movement. Besides his lust blown pupils and parted lips, he wasn’t giving anything away. The man had been trained to withstand all kinds of torture with an impeccable poker face, but you weren’t having any of that.
“Good. You’re always so good to me, Frankie. You’ve treated me so well tonight, and I know you wanna keep doing that. Don’t you? You wanna fuck me, don’t you?”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“Then you’re gonna let me play. I can’t have one of my boys taken care of, and not the other. Matthew gets a pass tonight. He was so worked up for so long, and we know it’s hard for him to keep control sometimes. But you’re very good at control, aren’t you Frankie? You’re gonna let me have what he wouldn’t?”
“Yeah…whatever the hell you want.”
“Good boy. Matthew, sit next to Frank. No touching, just listen. You better be ready to go by the time Frank comes in my mouth. Do you understand?”
“Yes…I understand.”
“That’s my good boy. You’ve both made me so proud tonight. Getting along, taking turns, being so good to me, being so good to each other. When I get done with Frankie, we’re all going to get what we want. I can’t wait to have you both. I’ve wanted both of you for so long. Just be patient a little longer, Matty. Let me take care of Frank. He hasn’t gotten to come yet tonight, and that’s not fair to him. Is it?”
Matt crawled around you towards the headboard, settling back against the pillows next to Frank as he stretched his legs out. His chest was still rising and falling rapidly, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes darted back and forth blankly. His cock was already half hard as he shook his head slowly, lightly fisting at the sheets beside him.
“No…no it isn’t. Let him. He deserves it.”
If you could take a picture with your eyes, you would frame the magnificent sight before you above your fucking bed. Frank and Matt, in all their nude glory, shoulder to shoulder beneath you, mouthwatering cocks standing at full alert waiting for your attention. It was impossible not to be filled with condescension when the two most powerful men in all of New York that could easily tear you apart with their bare hands were willingly submitting to your dictation.
Frank stared you down as you lowered yourself between his massive thighs, wrapping your lips around the swollen head of his cock to take into your mouth. He sucked in a deep breath, thighs tensing beside your head as you took him deeper. He was bigger than Matt, which was to be expected due to his stature, but you were determined to fit as much of him into your mouth as you could. You took your time at first, swirling your tongue around the tip slowly before sliding him back down against your tongue. You marveled at the shuddering breaths released from his mouth, but you wanted more.
“Don’t be shy, Frankie. I wanna hear your pretty sounds too.”
It hadn’t taken much to figure out Matt was the more vocal of the two, but you were adamant about breaking Frank’s composure. A quiet grunt sounded from him as you squeezed your hand around the section of him that wouldn’t quite fit in your mouth.
“Tell her how it feels, Frank.”
Matt sounded almost breathless as he spoke, and his eyes were wild with hunger as you glanced over at him.
“Feels good, sweetheart. Feels real damn good.”
“C’mon Frank, you can do better than that. It’s just us. Let it out like I know you can.”
Matt’s words had a fresh wave of arousal slicking your inner thighs. You had so many fucking questions for them. There was clearly something here you were missing. Something they were keeping from you, and you desperately wanted to know everything. Frank’s eyes never left yours, and they were growing darker by the second as if something was brewing behind them. It made your stomach twist with anticipation. You flattened your tongue against the slit on his tip, sucking fervently on the head as your hand twisted around the rest of him. Frank groaned loudly as he weaved his fingers through your hair, giving it a gentle tug.
“There you go. You can pull harder, she likes that. Don’t you angel?”
You moaned in response around Frank’s cock, causing him to let out a heavy grunt as he pulled roughly at your roots. His hips had started to shift upwards in rhythm with your movements, and you’d let him do whatever he wanted as long as he kept making sounds like that.
“Goddamn. You know how to use that mouth, yeah? Shit-no wonder he came so fast.”
“Just think about how good the rest of her is gonna feel. How pretty does she look right now?”
“So fuckin’ pretty. Fuck…wish you could see her. Looks so goddamn good with those pretty lips wrapped ‘round our cocks. Wish we could trade eyes for a minute.”
Only Frank Castle and Matt Murdock were capable of saying such filthy words that also simultaneously warmed your heart. Matt’s lips curved upwards in a delicate smile composed of pure admiration, and it made you melt. You reached your hand out that wasn’t working on Frank to grab onto one of Matt’s, lacing your fingers together and squeezing gently. Frank choked out a moan of surprise when you suddenly took him as deep as you could, feeling his tip brush against the back of your throat and holding him there for a minute until you had to come up for air.
“Fuckin’-shit…do that again. Fuck please…please sweetheart.”
Bracing your palm against Frank’s thigh, you took him once again as deep into your throat as you could, forcing yourself to breathe through your nose. A cry of your name tore through Frank’s chest as he gripped roughly onto your hair, and all at once a steady stream of heat coated the back of your throat. Frank bucked his hips slightly as you swallowed around him, squeezing Matt’s hand tightly as Frank released himself from your mouth.
“Fuck, I want next.”
“Jesus Christ you insatiable bastard, you already had your goddamn turn.”
Matt threw his head back against one of the pillows as he burst into a howl of laughter, bracing his palm against his chest.
“That was before I knew she could do that.”
“Well if you hadn’t been so fuckin’-”
“Boys, please. We’re not finished here.”
“I need a minute, darlin’. Think you just sucked the fuckin’ soul outta me, Jesus.”
Matt absolutely lost it, doubling over in a fit of laughter as your cheeks flamed with heat at Frank’s words. You couldn’t help but giggle, trying to cover your mouth as Frank shot you an insincere glare coupled with a coveted smirk. You hadn’t even noticed Matt had moved behind you until you felt his hands on your waist and the warmth of his breath on your neck.
“Alright, sweet girl. How about you and I start, hm? I bet Frank will be ready to go once he hears those pretty noises of yours. Besides, he likes to watch.”
A sudden gasp flew from your mouth as Matt guided you to straddle Frank’s hips, wondering how the hell he possibly knew that about Frank. God you were reeling with questions.
“I thought he was fucking me first?”
“That was before he got to come. He’s not left out anymore, is he?”
“I…no.”
“Castle?”
“Go ahead. Be with ya in a minute, sweetheart.”
Frank shot you a wink that would’ve made you fall to your knees had you not already been on them. Matt placed his palm on your lower back, pushing gently so that you were bent over Frank slightly. Frank grabbed onto your hip with one hand, his other coming up to brush his thumb along your cheekbone slowly as he stared up into your eyes. The tenderness and desire in them was so dizzying, it was almost overwhelming. You gripped onto Frank’s shoulders as Matt carefully pushed the blunt head of his cock past your folds, gasping sharply at the slight burn of the stretch.
“Shh…I’ve got you. Just relax for me, sweetheart.”
Matt’s lips brushed delicately along the shell of your ear, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself. A slow moan cascaded from your mouth as he sank his entire length into you, his hand gripping tightly onto your other hip. Matt rested his forehead against your back for a moment once his hips were flush against your ass, an incredulous moan emitting from him.
“Breathe, honey. He’s gonna take care of you, yeah? Ain’t gonna hurt you.”
Frank grunted quietly as you dug your nails into his shoulders, leaving crescent shaped indentations as Matt fucked you slowly from behind. Matt had brought his other hand up to loosely wrap around your throat, pressing his front firmly to your back so there wasn’t even a centimeter of space between you. Matt growled in your ear and it had you clenching around him tightly. 
“Fuck sweetheart…feels even fucking better than I ever imagined. So warm…so tight. Take me so fucking well, angel. So fucking well.”
“Matty…”
“You can take Frank too, can’t you?”
Your eyes flew open and you stared down at Frank almost in panic. Matt made you feel so deliciously full. You could feel every ridge and vein as his cock dragged along your walls. You stared down into Frank’s eyes anxiously, all your confidence from earlier seemingly evaporating from your pores. Frank smiled softly up at you, leaning in to brush his lips against yours.
“S’okay if you can’t honey. If it’s too much, s’alright.”
Could you handle them both? The thought seemed ridiculous. Your body was designed to push out a small human, of course you could. But you were nervous. Your cunt had a vice grip on Matt, and Frank was bigger. It would burn, but God it would feel so good once that sting went away. You couldn’t imagine having one without the other. Not anymore. You wanted them both.
“Please Frank…I-I can. I can.”
Matt pressed his cheek against yours as his hand tightened slightly around your neck, digging his fingers a little harder into your hip.
“That’s our girl.”
Frank searched your eyes for any hesitation. He pushed your legs further apart with one of his knees, grabbing the base of his cock and rubbing the head against your clit a few times. Your body jolted forward at the sensation and Matt groaned loudly in your ear. 
“Gonna have to move her a bit.”
“Here.”
Matt pressed his hand against your back until you were laying flat against Frank’s chest, putting his knees on either side of Frank’s. He grabbed onto your hips firmly, raising them a bit so that your back was arched slightly and your ass was pressed against his lower abdomen. Frank gripped onto your waist, pressing his forehead against yours as he positioned himself beneath you.
“Deep breath, sweetheart.”
As Frank pushed the head of his cock through your folds to join Matt, your mouth dropped completely open. Matt stilled behind you as Frank eased his entire length into you inch by spectacular inch. Your mouth still hung open, but you couldn’t make a sound. Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head, and you had to squeeze them shut as you tried to remember how to breathe. A burning sensation seared between your thighs as they both stretched you apart from the inside. It felt like they were fucking splitting you in half. It was almost too much. Matt’s fingers loosened around your throat and his deep voice echoed in your ears.
“Breathe, angel. Let us know when we can move. Take your time.”
You sucked in a gasp of oxygen like you had just emerged from the pits of the ocean. They were everywhere. You could hardly tell where one of you ended and the other began. Frank leaned in to kiss you softly, cradling your face in his large hand. Matt once again slipped his hand between you and Frank, carefully tracing circles over your clit to combat the pain with pleasure. You had never felt so full. So content. So loved.
One of your hands reached behind you to grab onto Matt’s neck as your other gripped onto Frank’s shoulder. You experimentally tried rocking your hips, crying out from the sting of the stretch and the jolts of pleasure that followed.
“God…please…please…”
Matt and Frank started to move their hips in tandem slowly, keeping an intricate pace as you adjusted to having both of them inside you. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before. You slowly felt your muscles begin to relax as the tension dissipated, your body feeling looser as pleasure began to overtake the pain. 
“How’s that feel, sweetheart?”
“So fucking good, Frankie.”
Frank’s lips stretched into a proud grin as he brushed his nose against yours, holding your face in his large hand.
“Knew you could, honey. Didn’t we?”
“We knew you’d take us so well, angel.”
Matt pulled back slightly as he felt you getting more comfortable, and your body accommodating them both more easily. He situated himself on his knees behind you, gripping onto your waist tightly.
“Now, ride him while I fuck you.”
Without warning, Matt started snapping his hips against your ass as he drilled into you from behind. A strangled moan of surprise bellowed from your chest, and Frank reached out to grip your waist to hold you steady. You braced your palms flat against his broad chest, whining loudly as Matt pistoned relentlessly inside you. His hand came down hard against your ass and he growled in your ear.
“I said ride him.”
“You heard him. C’mon sweetheart, take what’s yours. Make yourself come on my cock. Show us what a good girl you can be.”
You had half expected Frank to come to your defense like he had throughout the night, but it was like you were back on the roof. Frank was backing Matt, and you had an overwhelming desire to please them both. Gripping onto his shoulders, you began to rock your hips back and forth against his quickly, struggling to find your rhythm with the way Matt was fucking you roughly.
“Matty…please…”
“Move with me, angel. You can do it. Come on, make us proud.”
Frank held onto your waist with one hand and folded his other arm behind his head, staring up at you with the biggest grin on his lips. He was barely moving his hips, letting you do whatever you wanted above him. Matt was right. He did like to watch. He had been letting you and Matt take control for the most part, and right now all you wanted him to do was lose it.
“Please Frankie…please fuck me. Please fuck me like Matty…please…I need your help. Can you fuck me like him?”
Frank’s eyes darkened considerably at your words, and you could hear Matt snickering darkly behind you. Maybe you were wrong about Matt and Frank. Maybe Matt was the one that didn’t hide what he was. Maybe Frank was. Matt hadn’t held back once this entire night, but Frank certainly had. Maybe you didn’t know Frank as well as you thought you did. Maybe there was a part of himself he was concealing. Whatever it was, Matt clearly knew what you were in for better than you did.
“Come on, Frank. She wants to play with the Devil and the Punisher. Let her have it. She’s a big girl, she can handle it. We said we’d ruin her, so help me ruin her.”
Your heart pounded so quickly in your chest you thought it was gonna give out. Frank wasn’t smiling, he was smirking. But it wasn’t the crooked mischievous one you had come to love. No…this one was sinister, and it sent a shiver down your spine.
“Alright, sweetheart. You asked for it. And whatever you want, you get.”
Frank gripped roughly onto your waist to lift your hips before he began to snap his own upwards against yours at an almost inhuman pace. A scream flew from your mouth as he fucked up into you roughly in perfect harmony with Matt who was repeatedly railing into your from behind. You couldn’t form words. The sounds coming from you were downright pornographic and salacious and barely coherent. You grabbed onto his forearms for support and dug your nails so deep into his skin you were shocked you hadn't drawn blood. All you could do was hang on as Frank and Matt did exactly what they promised; they absolutely fucking wrecked you.
The grunts and moans coming from both of them were feral and almost animalistic, tearing from the most primal depths of their chests. They were both gripping and kneading at your flesh with such ferocity, like they couldn’t feel enough of you. You were eager to see the marks they had left tomorrow morning. Frank repeated over and over how good you were, showering you in praise that starkly contrasted with the way he was fucking you. Matt’s fingers never once left your throat, occasionally applying just enough pressure to make you lightheaded. He poured indecent and filthy words into your ear about how perfect you fit around his cock and how badly he wanted you to come so he could fuck you all over again.
It was beginning to be too much. You couldn’t even hold yourself up on your knees anymore. The only reason you hadn’t collapsed was because Frank still had you suspended above him. 
“You gonna come for us, sweetheart?”
“Yeah she is. Any minute now…right angel?”
You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even nod. All you could do was hang on and fall further and further into Matt Murdock and Frank Castle. Matt chuckled lowly as he pulled your head back against his chest by your neck, brushing his nose along your cheekbone as he inhaled your scent.
“Think we’re fucking her too good, Frank. She can’t even talk.”
“Goddamn if you could see how she looks right now, Red. S’alright pretty girl, we got ya. Go on and make a fuckin’ mess on us. Don’t you dare hold back, yeah?”
“Hold her steady like that Frank. I got her.”
The second Matt’s finger made contact with your clit, you combusted. Your pussy clenched so hard around both of them that it almost hurt. A blinding supernova exploded behind your eyelids and your body suddenly became a live wire, convulsing with every tiny spark of touch. Your lungs burned as you struggled to breathe and all at once you felt like you were floating and made of lead. The distant echo of Matt loudly moaning out your name and Frank howling deeply for you rang in your ears. Your heart fluttered at the thought of your insides being turned into a breathtaking mosaic as the two men you loved most in this world painted you with the most intimate parts of themselves. 
There was an irrefutable peace that settled in your bones once your body stopped shuddering. It felt like you were floating in the middle of the ocean. All the noises around you were jumbled, like your head was underwater. You could just barely make out two voices calling your name. The midnight sky above you was suddenly flashing neon purple and blue, and the twinkling constellations drifting around in front of you morphed into two sets of eyes swirling with deep hazel and dark cocoa. 
“There she is. Had us worried there for a bit, sweetheart.”
Frank’s voice was clear in your ears now. As you blinked the haziness away, both him and Matt finally came back into view. The light from the billboard outside Matt’s apartment was projecting a kaleidoscope of violet and cobalt on the ceiling. You had no idea how long you had been incoherent, but the expression on both of their faces and Frank’s words had you blushing profusely. 
“Hi.”
Your voice was hoarse as you spoke. It didn’t even sound like it belonged to you. Both of them exchanged a knowing glance, Matt’s mouth splitting into a wide dimple showcasing grin as he chuckled.
“Hi pretty girl.”
“You alright? Was that too much?”
“I’m amazing. That was…perfect.”
”Hell, I think we can all agree on that. We were worried you weren’t comin’ back to us for a minute there though.”
“I’d never leave you two. I’ll always come back. Promise.”
“Frank, could you grab her a glass of water?”
“Sure thing, Red.”
A tender smile spread across your lips at the way Frank squeezed Matt’s shoulder before making his way out of the bedroom. Matt tilted his head in your direction, eyes fixated almost on yours as he smiled in response. His hand came out to gently cup your face, brushing his thumb lightly along your cheekbone. 
“Where did you go?”
“What?”
“We did lose you there for a few minutes. We kept saying your name, but you were somewhere else. Where did you go?”
“The stars. Another universe, I think.”
Matt laughed out loud as his grin stretched even further over his mouth, moving to lay beside you as he propped his head up on his other hand.
“We missed you.”
“I found my way back as soon as I could.”
This was the most at peace you thought you had ever seen Matt Murdock look. His hair was disheveled and out of place and his cheeks were lightly twinged pink, but the smile that graced his mouth was absolutely blinding. He looked…happy. Genuinely happy. You couldn’t help but surge forward and capture his lips in a deep kiss. You could feel his smile against your mouth and the warmth of his skin as his hand settled on your waist. 
“Round 2 already? Shouldn’t we wait for Frank?”
“I love you, Matty.”
Matt’s smile faltered only for a second, his eyes widening at your confession. His lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. The bed dipped behind you, and you turned your head to see Frank’s gaze shifting between you and Matt. 
“I think you broke him. What’d I miss?”
“I love you, Frankie.”
Frank stilled momentarily, swallowing thickly as he brought the glass of water to your lips and placed his hand on the back of your neck as you gulped generously. 
“Sweetheart-“
“Wait…just, let me speak. I mean it. I love both of you. I think I always have I just…if this is a one time thing, that’s okay. I just wanted you both to know. Tonight meant the world to me. I’ve never felt so…happy. No one’s ever treated me so well as you two have and…I really do love when you two get along. I hope that’s not part of this “one time deal” thing. So, Matt Murdock…Frank Castle…I love you. Both of you. If tomorrow morning you both decide you want to act like this never happened-“
“The hell you talkin’ about? Didn’t we say there’d be a next time?”
“Well…yeah but that was-“
“Angel, this isn’t a one time thing. I don’t know about Frank, but I can’t go back to before. Not after I’ve finally had you. It's not a one time thing for me.”
“It ain’t for me either.”
Silence hung heavy in the air after the weight of your confession settled. You suddenly felt self conscious about what you had just admitted, and the urge to run away had your fingers twitching at your sides. Matt tenderly wrapped his hand around your wrist, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he stared in your direction.
“I love you, angel.”
Frank slipped into bed beside you, draping his arm lazily over your waist as he brushed his nose along your jawline and pressed a soft kiss to the edge of your mouth. 
“And I love you, sweetheart.”
Your eyes darted frantically between the two of them, still trying to wrap your head around all of the events that had transpired tonight. 
“So…what now?”
“I don’t know ‘bout you two, but I’m fuckin’ exhausted. I say we get some sleep.”
“Frank’s right. It’s been a long night. Let’s get some rest. We can talk in the morning.”
“I’m sorry…did you just…say Frank was right?”
“Don’t start. I’m too tired to put you in your place, and I don’t think you can handle any more than what we’ve already given you.” 
Matt’s tone submissed you into complete silence. Frank chuckled lowly beside you, and you caught his smirk as you met his gaze. He gave a light shrug of his shoulders as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.
“He may be tired but he ain’t bluffin’. If there’s anything he can do better than take a beatin’ it’s give one. I suggest you behave, sweetheart.”
You closed your eyes for a second as you pressed your thighs together, and Matt groaned loudly beside you. Frank laughed as he pulled the covers over the three of you, snuggling close into your backside as Matt pulled your leg over his waist to get you as close as possible to his chest. For several minutes, you all laid there in comfortable silence, enjoying the feeling of Matt and Frank’s warmth against your skin and the sound of their steady breathing with a promise of more bliss tomorrow. 
“Goddamn, you weren’t kiddin’ about that fuckin’ billboard. You ain’t ever thought to get some curtains?”
“Why would I have a use for curtains, Frank?”
A loud laugh escaped your mouth at Matt’s deadpan before you had a chance to stop it, and Frank’s hand suddenly clamped over your mouth.
“Obviously they ain’t for you, shithead. What about us?”
“Fine. We’ll look at curtains tomorrow. Happy?”
“Fuckin’ peachy.”
Thirty seconds. You had thirty seconds of more comfortable silence before they were back at it.
“You’re fucking joking, right? I mean you can sleep through bullets and explosions and the desert sun, but a billboard is where you draw the line?” 
“It’s right there in the goddamn window, Matthew. For fucks sake, you got a fuckin’ rave goin’ on right now. It might not bother you-“
“Well obviously it can’t bother me Frank-“
“Boys, please. Frankie, you’ve literally slept in far worse conditions. Matty…it is a bit much. We can deal with it tomorrow. Can we please go back to you two being nice to each other and cuddling?” Both of them grunted halfheartedly in response, but it made you smile nonetheless. Because they were your boys. Yours. And no matter how much they drove you, and each other, absolutely crazy, it was all out of love. You loved them. They loved you. Nothing else really mattered.
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preservationofnormalcy · 1 year ago
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[It is November of 2021. I am being led down a hallway that looks more like it should be on a ship than a government building. Metal walls with painted horizontal lines down its length, marked with “water depth” markers every 30 feet or so. My guide is a bored-looking man in a suit, balding, checking his clipboard. I seem to remember his name is Clarke, but he’s not who I’m here to see.]
M] Does this tunnel flood?
C] Hm?
M] The water markers.
C] Oh, those. Not unless something bad happens. She’s pretty good about it.
M] Is her name really –
C] Yth’Wa, Herald of Change. Yes. Changed it legally. Not that she gets out much.
M] …kind of an indoorsy person?
C] I mean she’s never in the outside world.
M] Not even to get food?
C] She has people for that.
[Suddenly, from doorways that lead off the hallway, we are joined by six figures wearing yellow robes that conceal their identities entirely. I smell brine and dead fish. Clarke looks back and seems to count the figures, but otherwise doesn’t react.]
M] Is this a joke? 
C] Wish it was, ma’am. Hey, fellas.
[Two of the figures wave. We approach a bulkhead at the end of the hall, and Clarke spins the wheel lock. The taste of salt hits my mouth - like the seaside, like brine. Clarke enters the chamber beyond, and three of the figures follow him. Three of them wait behind me, as if waiting to escort me. After a moment’s hesitation, I enter the chamber.
It is dark, hewn from rough stone, sloping downward into dark water. I look up, and the ceiling cannot be seen in the darkness. Utility lights illuminate the path downward, a few of them trailing into the still water. Clarke takes up a post next to the door, and the yellow figures form a pattern facing the water. Two of them kneel, two of them prostrate themselves, and two raise their hands and begin a chant. 
I can’t help myself. I back up, and whisper to Clarke.]
M] You cannot be serious.
C] You’re the one that wanted to meet her. 
M] Who the hell am I meeting? 
[Wordlessly, Clarke points to the water. A figure is emerging. 
A humanoid figure, also clad in yellow robes. Her hood is pulled low over her face, only the bottom half of her face visible. She has both hands placed together, palms pressed together in a gesture of prayer. She walks calmly from the water, up the incline, and it becomes clear she must be…seven feet tall, or more. Pallid grey-green skin is visible under her hood, and her hair….not hair. Tentacles. Tendrils roll down her shoulders and chest, spill from her sleeves. Her face is thin, her cheeks are marked with slits - gills.
As she emerges, she joins the chant with her own voice. As water spills from her form, fully on dry land now, her words change to English. An unearthly, inhuman voice…but not unpleasant.]
Yth’Wa] Fathoms deep, fathoms old. Fathoms dark, fathoms cold. We leave the cradle, leave the fold. To serve the one, the Lord in Gold. 
[There is a pause. Yth’Wa smiles and stands beyond the yellow figures, who are silent but have not moved from their spots. She is close to me, and seems to regard me with a small smile. Her face is…unnatural, but not ugly. Something beyond. When she speaks, it is with a strange resonance, and no small amount of amusement.]
Y] Ms Hendricks. I was told of your coming.
M] …wh…Yth’Wa?
Y] Do not be afraid.
[She moved her arms, spreading them out. Water dripped off her robes, and tentacles slipped back into her sleeves.]
Y] I am an ally of the Office. I do not harm the unbeliever, as they have their part to play in the grand Circle. The King Of All And Nothing has spoken, and we listen.
M] I don’t…I don’t know what to say. 
Y] Then speak your truth. 
M] ….I’m here to ask you questions.
[Yth’Wa’s smile widens. Her teeth are sharp, triangular, serrated. I look back at Clarke, who seems nonplussed. He looks at his phone and swears softly, seemingly realizing he doesn’t get reception here. Yth’Wa’s tone is not unfriendly, but somehow…as if she’s humoring me. Slight but not aggressive sarcasm rolls off her lips.]
Y] Inquisitiveness is what drew us all to the Circle, Ms Hendricks. It is a virtue worthy of the Yellow Empty. This is a holy quest. 
M] I feel like I’m being condescended to. 
Y] No force in the ocean could compel me to do so. 
M] But on land? 
[She puts her hands back together with a playful smile.] 
Y] What are your questions, my dear?
M] …I was going to ask you about the poster, but first…who are you? 
Y] I am Yth’Wa, Herald of Change, leader of the Yellow Circle. 
M] And what is the…Yellow Circle? 
[Yth’Wa gestures to the other figures in yellow behind her.] 
Y] We are the children of the One Who Dwells Between. We reach out in humility and hope to the space beyond our candlelight, and we embrace what we find. Our god, the Golden Father, shepherds us into the dark void, and bestows upon us gifts that we take upon ourselves gladly. 
M] And you’re….allied with the Office? They’re okay with this. 
[Yth’Wa’s smile is slightly more amused, almost smug. Her tone is like kindly addressing a child.] 
Y] It’s our world too, Meghan. We live here. We have a vested interest in keeping the things that slither around the lighthouse of the human mind at bay…or under our control. The Office often finds these skills useful. Such as your poster.
M] The….sock a Shoggoth one.  
Y] Indeed. It’s an old one. You saw a ripple of waters past, Ms Hendricks.
M] Sorry? 
Y] Do you know of Operation Deep Whisper? 
M] I…I don’t, no. 
Y] Mmmh. 
[She steps forward. I’m unsure of what to do, and in my hesitation, she walks around me. Studying me, her eyes never visible but nonetheless biting into me.]
Y] You’ve met Josiah. Josiah Carter. 
M] Of Psychotronics? 
Y] Of those who wade in pools they will drown in. Tell me. Did he talk about the things they invited? 
M] He mentioned things that…came from their experiments. 
Y] Poor Josiah. He knew only half of what he unleashed. 
M] I don’t think I understand. 
[Yth’Wa took in a deep breath.]
Y] When men take hammers to glass, they should not be surprised when it leaks. Those at the Office, in their uniforms and titles. They frayed the real in order to see through it, and they didn’t like what they saw. What they let through. By the 1960s, the camera obscura  they had made in their blind stabbing through reality had become a tear. A broken fence post, and of course things came through. Things…not under our control. 
M] The things he described sounded horrific. What are they?
Y] Me and mine are…inured to them, somewhat. The Office now calls them Outsiders. Entities from other spaces, other realms, dimensions beyond ours. Beyond the veils. As you can imagine, they are often dangerous to humanity. Physically violent, or ontologically inimical to human life. Often...alien thought patterns, incompatible with the mortal mind. Ontologically incompatible - too many of them, and their reality leaks into ours...impossible geometry, mosses and fungi that degrade the integrity of realspace. Or reality, as humans see it.
M] And you can control them?
Y] More or less. Keep them at bay, influence their behavior. Sometimes they can appreciate something that thinks like them. But all that and more were slowly being unleashed through the world, a secret plague that threatened to collapse the Office’s so called normality. Beasts, anomalies, and forces threatened even our way of life. 
M] So they asked the Yellow Circle for help. 
Y] Indeed. I was not the leader at the time, but the Circle allied with the Office to eradicate this plague. Using resources and funding from the more mundane conflict in Vietnam, we battled the Outsider across the globe throughout the 1960s, and into the 70s. Our people call it Gul’tho Z’Thuth G-Uz, the Conflict of Brother Blood. But the Office calls it Operation Deep Whisper. It is there your posters come into play - propaganda, encouragement for a war against an enemy so alien that they cannot be understood. 
[That smile again.] 
Y] By the Office, anyway.  
M] And it worked? 
Y] You had not heard of Outsiders before you came to the Office, had you? We saved the world, Ms Hendricks. Our world. 
M] I guess we can chalk that one up as a success. 
Y] Indeed. 
M] I don’t feel the need for most of my questions….Yth’Wa. But I guess I had another. 
Y] Speak freely. 
M] You were…human, right? All of you, but especially you. Who were you before you were Yth’Wa?
[There is a moment of silence. Yth’Wa looked…momentarily annoyed, her thin lips turning down at the ends in a way that made my stomach churn. But after a moment, she seemed to reset, relax her posture.]
Y] Who I was is dead. The One Whose Sign Dances saw me for who I was, and made me into something…more. More real, more truthful. Who I was is…dead. Do you understand? 
M] I….I think I do. 
Y] Magnificent. If you had no further questions….
[She steps forward, and I flinch. She pauses, as if attempting not to spook an animal, reaching into her robes and slowly pulling free a single scallop shell. It shined like an oil spill in the dim light, runes and markings along the outside of the shell. They hurt to look at.]
Y] If you wish to see me again, throw this shell into the largest body of water you can reach in a day’s walk under the light of the moon. I will see you, I will reach you. And we can talk. 
M] …thank you, Yth’Wa.
Y] May the Shattered Lord keep you and guide you. 
M] Let the…the Keeper of Yellow—- oh, god, what…what was that? I can taste it. 
[Yth’Wa laughs, leaning in further, teeth gleaming in the odd light.]
Y] Truth. Oh, Ms Hendricks. You’ve tasted truth. 
(Buy the poster here!)
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utilitycaster · 3 months ago
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Hi! Because I genuinely do love your take on things and every time I read through them, a new perspective that I had never even considered before makes itself known to me. So, I wanted to ask! Since Twitter (unsurprisingly) already got its hands on this discussion:
What are your feelings on the Mighty Nein being the ones to handle the Weave Mind over Bells Hells? Because for me, I always sort of knew that BH were going to be the ones to defeat Ludinus no matter what. It’s what they’ve been building up for.
However, some people say the M9 aren’t deserving of handling the Weave Mind because that was an antagonist made specifically for the Bells Hells. So, I was interested in seeing your thoughts about this (strange) discussion.
Hi anon, thanks!
I think it's great to have the Nein go after the Weave Mind, and I think, like most takes from the Twitter CR fandom, this is fucking stupid.
Given that Matt is the DM, and he's like "hey, I'm going to have a Trusted NPC call in the Mighty Nein to deal with the Weave Mind" I think the argument that the Weave Mind was made specifically for Bells Hells is not, in fact, true. The Weave Mind is an antagonist who was introduced with Bells Hells' campaign, rather like how Ludinus Da'leth is an antagonist who was introduced with the Mighty Nein's campaign and who has been the nemesis of Beau and Caleb in particular, and yet Bells Hells will be going after him in this scenario (and, to be clear, I think this is fine; I've expected Bells Hells to face off against Ludinus in the end).
I would be interested in understanding if the motivation here is "I wish the Nein were going after Ludinus and Bells Hells were going after the Weave Mind" which I think is far less interesting given that Ludinus has been such a consistent enemy of Bells Hells as well but at least I can puzzle out a not terribly intelligent but consistent sort of logic in it; or if this is a "I wish the past two parties weren't involved in this campaign at all" argument in which case, far too late for that; or if this is someone who specifically doesn't like the Mighty Nein throwing yet another tiresome and embarrassing temper tantrum on Twitter. But my opinion doesn't change; I think it's far more satisfying to see Bells Hells take on Ludinus than the Weave Mind, whom half of them haven't even met.
More generally, the idea of "doesn't deserve to fight the Weave Mind" is stupid on another level. I understand why people talk about which actual play character they wish to get the final blow on a particular enemy, even though dice will ultimately decide this. When it lines up - Vax with Thordak, Yasha with Obann - it's immensely satisfying. But you do not need to be the most wronged person to make meaning of a How Do You Want To Do This (FCG and Otohan being an obvious case here). Technically, the Volition deserves to fight the Weave Mind more! Half of Bells Hells hasn't even encountered the Weave Mind in any capacity! Braius and Dorian haven't been to the moon! Sometimes, you're fighting because it's part of, for example, a three-pronged plan that needs three separate simultaneous strike forces. Bells Hells can't do all three at once despite having claims to each of the targets unless they split up. Would you rather the parties split up in a mix of each? Because I'm not opposed per se but that could get pretty confusing all around. And if we're going to step out of the Watsonian argument that in-world, they can't do all three at once, see my next paragraph to address the Doylist "but Matt didn't need to set it up this way" one.
I am on the record as loathing the whole "it's their table and you can't criticize it because it's their game" bullshit. You can do so. You can do so even if there are very good reasons for their choices. You're always entitled to your own opinion and as long as you're not harassing people, it is morally neutral to say "this piece of fiction/art/whatever didn't do it for me," end of sentence. With that said. It's fine if people wish Campaign 3, like Campaigns 1 and 2, were more exclusively focused on one party's adventures rather than the all-hands-on-deck story that it is. But it is that story, and pretending this wasn't the result of a number of intentional choices by Matt and the cast and various collaborators is profoundly stupid at this point. I had my complaints as well, early on, but the time to get over this was episode 1, when Orym and Fearne and Dorian and Bertrand showed up with their ties to EXU and C1. Or it was episode 6, when Laudna revealed her connection to Delilah. Or episode 35, when that connection to Keyleth was leveraged. Or episode 50, when Beau and Caleb appeared; or Episode 51, when multiple past PCs were present at the solstice; or Episode 66, when we further met with Keyleth; or Episode 86, when Sending came back on and both Caleb and Jester spoke to the party; or Episode 92, when we cut back to the Crown Keepers; or Episode 94, when Essek showed up; or Episode 99, when Downfall began. If you're still holding on hope now in the endgame, I think it's too late. That's not the campaign this is, and it never was, and you can wish that you had something more self-contained like Campaign 1 or 2 but with Bells Hells, but that's all it is - a wish, unfulfilled.
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hazshit-hotel-hater · 8 months ago
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Could you talk about the designs Viv makes? I don't see many posts talking about this and I wanted some design tips, I intend to post my own cartoon designs (I just don't know when) and I wanted some tips <⁠(⁠ ̄⁠︶⁠ ̄⁠)⁠>
Hey hey!! Id love to talk about designs!
I actually answered this entire question and then uh…. Tumblr deleted my draft so let me try to redo all this lmao
Vivzie has a problem with bodytypes I’ve noticed. Almost all of her cast is insanely skinny and the only two “plus-size” characters I can think of are Millie and Mimzy. Meanwhile, Angel Dust, Vox, Stolas, & Alastor are a few very skinny characters I can think of off the top of my head.
For the best example, I’m going to be using Vox for now. Here is my Vox design next to his canon appearance
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They don’t look too different right? This is still easily identifiable as Vox because his main characteristics are there; stupid little hat, tv head, thats about it.
My design also keeps elements of his suit with the stripes and shoulder pads, though in my design his body is a bit wider and his shoulders + waist make him look more commanding and intimidating while still maintaining a sense of professionalism. As for his canon design, he definitely looks sketchy, but he doesn’t really give me that commanding sense of popularity or authority that I feel an overlord should have, especially one with such a wide range of influence as Vox. His canon design looks top heavy and a little pathetic in that “he was born in a wet cardboard box all alone” way. Don’t get me wrong, a small waist can do wonders for a design, but when your designs start to look like… this
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I think you might have a problem.
Now, I know I am nowhere near the best character designer in the world, but I have designed my fair share and I think I have enough experience to flatter myself a little.
This is a very simple design choice to make. Body types are probably some of the most intricate and interesting parts of a person in my opinion, and with a lineup like this where everyone looks more or lest the same from the torso down, it’s kind of a dead and sad looking cast, and not in the intended way.
I’m aware my designs are very detailed and wouldn’t be easy to animate with my style, but it’s very easy to draw extra body types with a style fit for TV.
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Gravity Falls is a great example of stylised bodies and also using them to build personality. By looking at these characters you can generally tell what their base personality is probably like right? You can do the same thing to an extent with the Hazbin Cast, but all of their designs get muddled into the other. Can you even tell where half of these people are positioned in this screenshot
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It’s so pink and red im going to start seeing green when I look away. There are so many colours, use them!!!! You can still slap a red overlay over it and make it “look like hell” or whatever, but you’re still gonna have more variety.
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Here’s my body/fur references for Angel and Husk. They are almost entirely opposite to eachother but you can probably get an idea for how they are based on colour and shape. I recommend studying other TV shows and things like anime or movies to see how body types and colours impact character design, but general things I always think of are, like I’ve said, body type, personality, colour, and silhouette. Silhouette is a bit harder to pin since a character can have a very recognizable silhouette and still not be a good design, but honestly to me as long as you can tell which character is which from silhouette you’re good to go on that front.
- Generally just don’t reuse the same colour palette over and over (heres some of my hazbin colours)
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- Give diversity in shapes when you can and when it benefits the design
- Try to show their personality through their clothes and pose
- Don’t be afraid to add little physical or personality details that other people might not notice, a good design should keep you interested in tiny details like that or surprise you later on
- Pay attention to what would and wouldn’t make sense (ex. A character that doesn’t like modern fashion wearing modern fashion)
Im not the best at explaining all of this but I hope you could grasp even just a tiny bit of an idea from this! At the end of the day as long as you’re having fun and not actively harming people with the designs then you should be good to go
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askinkiskarma · 2 years ago
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Illicit Affairs | Chapter VIII: My Tears Ricochet
Pairing: Neteyam x Human/Avatar!Reader
Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter IX Chapter X
Synopsis: All secrets are revealed and both you and Neteyam have to live with the consequences of your actions.
Warnings: pure angst, mentions of death, mental illness, addiction, self-injury, limited mentions of Y/N, did i mention angst, angst and more angst?
Word Count: 10,3k words (the first couple chapters were 3k, how did we get here??!)
A/N: This chapter killed me a little inside. I cried multiple times writing it, so I guess fair warning. I wanted really badly to build strong, round characters who had flaws and strengths and strong reasoning for acting a certain way/doing certain things. I wanted to write this story from both character's perspective, so it is clear that in life, each person will think they are right, that their reasoning was the correct one, when in reality, we are all a little right and a little wrong in everything we do, and it is always worth trying to see things from the other's perspective. We are coming towards the end of this first series, so I hope you enjoy this chapter and the rest of this journey. As always, thank you so much for everyone who engaged with it, I loved reading ALL of your comments and replies, they really make my day.
(Also, I feel like I am playing my own little game of "how many Taylor Swift and OG Avatar lyrics/quotes/references I can reasonably fit in a story without it being obnoxious" and I can't tell if I'm winning or not.)
I didn't have it in myself to go with grace Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet
You registered the girl asking you if you were alright, but you couldn’t see in front of you, the entire room spinning like the inside of a mirrorball. You felt your body rise from where it was sat next to Neteyam’s, and shakily made your way out. Neteyam’s mate. Neteyam’s mate was next to you, asking you if you need help. It all got too much, and you lunged your body forwards and threw up on the ground next to your tent. You were panting, trying to somehow get a grasp on your mind and push the hurt aside, enough so you can see and hear the world around you.
“I’m fine. Thank you.” you manage to blurt out weakly.
You heard more commotion, and faintly made out Jake’s voice and his arm on your shoulder, trying to bring you back to them.
“Neteyam, what the hell happened?”
You didn’t hear Neteyam speak. He was quiet and you were glad. You didn’t want to hear his voice, not now, and not for the rest of your life.
The world came back to focus eventually, and you spit aggressively trying to get rid of the taste of acid in your mouth. You removed Jake’s hand from your back, and left. The thought of speaking or even looking at any of them was too much to bear. You ran, harder than you ever had before, back to where you just came from, the Ikran nest in the village. You immediately recognised your own, beautiful, gold and white, pure, unlike the rest of this world. Neyn (light colours, shades of white)… fitting name, you thought. You made the tsaheylu quickly, and without a second thought, took off.
FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF STAGE III: DEPRESSION
You had no thoughts as you flew above the forest and made your way towards the general direction of the Hallelujah mountains. You realised you didn’t know where you were going, you didn’t know how you were going to find your way back, but it didn’t matter. Were you even going to ever return? There were no tears, no sadness, just emptiness. The pieces of your heart broke so finely they turned into dust, blown away in the wind of the night. Eventually you found the mountains, easy enough to spot, even in the darkness, the fluorescent flora marking the territory with an easy-to-see glow. You flew like this, for enough time that your lungs were running out of breath and your skin felt battered by the wind, but you kept going. You felt so free, so weightless. There was a calmness to your thoughts that you haven’t felt in years, probably since your mother died.
You saw a distant mountain that looked brighter than the others, and you made your way to it and were amazed to find a little cave in it, bright and colourful, a little piece of heaven on a planet that was heaven in and of itself. Neyn landed softly on the edge of the mountain and you dismounted effortlessly and approached her head, giving her pets on her neck, to which she cooed gently. She was the only friend you had, you realise. You were all alone.
“Neteyam, what happened?”
Neteyam was dragged in the tent by his dad, who was fuming. No matter what feelings his dad was feeling, they couldn’t compare to Neteyam’s anguish and terror. Why the hell was she there? She just had to wait another couple of hours and this would have never happened.
“She was patching my wound up when Tiongli came in the tent, announcing to the world she is my mate. Said mother told her about my injury.”
“Don’t you dare blame this on your mother, boy.” the Sully patriarch’s nose was flared, eyes looking at him intensely with anger and disappointment. Neteyam’s eyes filled with tears, and he felt his heart hurting so much like the gash was there instead of his arm.
“I was going to tell her tonight, dad. After dinner. I was going to tell her everything, and I was going to ask her to be my mate. I was going to come to you both and ask you to undo the engagement. I understand that a year and a half ago I gave up on her, I did it for a reason, I thought there was no future for us, and that we were hurting each other. But things have changed. She has changed. She’s going to be one of the people soon and I want her to be mine.”
“Neteyam, you can’t undo the engagement. You have known Tiongli your whole life, her family’s been expecting this since you were both young. You gave your word before Eywa, son.”
“I love her, dad. Do you understand that? I have loved her all of my life. It killed me having to leave, it killed me knowing there was no future, because she was human. But she’s not just human anymore. I was willing to go through with this for the sake of the village, for the sake of the family and the future, but if there is any chance I can have the love of my life by my side, instead, I will cling on to it for dear life. Mother was betrothed to uncle Tsu’tey, and she gave that up for you. It was done before Eywa, and she didn’t care. Because she loved you and she knew that was enough. She gave up being Tsahik, her birth right, so she can have you. I will not give up on her, dad. Mother wouldn’t have given up on you.”
“I have to find her. I have to make this right.”
You were sprawled on your back, feeling goosebumps form along your limbs from the cold grass. You were staring at the sky, noticing the bright stars you now knew were actually bright death sentences, each of them beautiful and devastating. Will you even still be alive when they come? Will everything you have gone through these few months matter? Will everything you have gone through in this life matter? All the pain, and the hurt, and the grief, just so you can die at 18 from a virus. The universe was cruel, you thought. It was a fitting end, though. Meaningless and daft, like your entire life was. Born on a planet you were not made to be able to survive on, your real planet a long-forsaken dream you will never experience for yourself, surrounded by nature that could kill you in an instant. Alone, never fitting anywhere, orphaned by human diseases: cancer and greed. Left to fend for yourself when you were just ten, learning to navigate a life that only seemed to want to clobber you to the ground whenever you thought you finally could stand up again.
There was no light at the end of the tunnel, not anymore. You wanted to fight for something, for the chance at life, or at retribution, or at love. You were dying and Neteyam killed whatever hope remained in you. They all did. Norm, Max, Jake, Neytiri, Lo’ak, Kiri, Spider, all accomplices, all aware, all willing to lie to your face for weeks with no remorse. You thought you were good at spotting liars, now you just knew how little you knew about everything.
The pain in your soul mirrored the one in your body, as you felt the morphine wearing off and your human body struggling to keep the mind steady for the link. You had to bear it, because this pain was more manageable than the one you knew waited for you in your human form, when you would be alone in a dark room with only your nightmares to keep you company.
With a sigh and a peer up at the sky, you hoped whatever comes after death was better than the hell you’ve lived in the majority of this life.
Neteyam waited the whole night in your tent, waited for you to come back, becoming increasingly worried as the hours passed and you didn’t show. He wanted to go and look for you, but knew that as soon as you got on your ikran, the chances of finding you were thin. He would go to the lab as soon as dawn broke, but for now, he was praying that you would just burst through the tent opening so he can talk you down.
He fucked up, badly. He cringed at the thought of how much he seemed to not be able to get anything right when it comes to you. Everything he did or didn’t do ended up hurting you more, the only thing he didn’t want, the only thing in the world he continuously tried to avoid.
He was consoled by the fact that he would have a lifetime to make it up to you. He will not give up trying, no matter how long, no matter how hard, he was determined to win you back and keep you, forever.
As you made it back to your human body in the early hours of the morning, you regretted waiting so long, as your body was in indescribable agony, the likes with which you didn’t know was possible for the human body to ever experience. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, you were sweating bullets and every bone and muscle in your body throbbed with enough intensity to make it almost impossible for you to get up from the pod. Everyone must be asleep at this hour, you thought. You had to make it to your bed, you had to get at least a couple of hours of rest if you were going to live to see another day. As if you were taking the Iknimaya again, you made your way form the lab to the medical ward and injected another dose of the morphine in your system. There was no going back now, you were too far down the rabbit hole to stop and why put yourself through more unnecessary pain when this will all be over in a few days anyway?
You crashed in your room for a few hours and quickly made your way back to the pod before anyone else was there to talk to. You started the linkpod by yourself and got in without hesitation.
Waking up in your Avatar body was a strange experience, as you were still in the Hallelujah mountains where you fell asleep last night. Neyn did not leave you, you noted, and she was peacefully resting next to you, cooing softly in her sleep.
“Hey, beautiful girl. Time to go back. It would be useful if you knew the way.” you pet her gently, trying not to disturb her. She woke up and pushed her snoot in your chest, and you felt it swell for this animal that you had an unbreakable bond with; you were grateful you had done the Iknimaya and at least gained a life companion from that horrible day.
As suspected, Neyn knew where to take you, and in about an hour you made it back to the village. You dreaded it, dreaded the inevitable interaction, but you knew you had to go back at some point and inform them of your whereabouts.
It was still early, so the village wasn’t quite bustling with energy yet. You quietly made it back to your tent, which you found empty. You grabbed your bow and arrows, knife and gun and a couple extra magazines. You didn’t know if you were going to be back. As you were making your way out, your head bumped into a large, muscular chest.
Fuck.
“Where the hell were you all night, kid? None of us slept a wink last night worrying.”
“Out.”
“What the hell do you mean out? Out where? You leave without telling, you don’t come back the whole night, do you have a fucking death wish?”
You laughed at the irony of his words. He caught your arm as you were walking away and pulled you back forcefully so you can face him.
“You are not going anywhere.”
“Let go.” Jake raised a brow at your words. He was not used to being spoken this way, you realise.
“How long?”
His grasp on you loosened, and his gaze softened when you peered up at him through eyelashes to which tears clung.
“How long has this been going on?”
“Kid…”
“How fucking long, Jake?”
He let go of your arm at your curse, which had never been directed at him before.
“Watch your tone, kid.”
“You made me feel like shit for learning to shoot guns without you. It made you feel bad, right? Knowing I purposefully left you out of something you could have been useful at, something we could have bonded over? I hurt you, by pushing you and Neytiri away for so many years, and I am sorry for that, but you have never, in your life, tried to understand me. So you gave me shit about something you didn’t understand, and I hurt so much inside at the thought of all I gave away by my reluctance to trust, to love, to let people in. So I changed. I let you in. I was here, everyday, acting like a perfect little daughter for you, the daughter I knew you wanted. Strong, capable, skilled. I let Neytiri in. I started calling her mum in my dreams, and although the guilt for my own mother gnawed at my insides silently, I was also relived, to finally have a family again, or for the first time.
You made me love you and break down these carefully constructed walls so you can be comfortable and sleep well at night for not breaking your promise my mum, and then you fucking stabbed me in the back.
I trusted you, Jake. You fucking lied to my face for months. Every time I asked where Neteyam was at dinners and you told me he was practicing, every day you plotted to get me out of the village as early morning as humanly possible and get me back after everyone else was fast asleep, I knew it in my heart you were lying, but you were all so good at it, I thought I was going crazy. But no, it was all a carefully planned ruse to not find out you made me come here and be part of the people just to watch the man I love belong to someone else without even a chance to decide for myself how to feel about it.”
The fight brought out the rest of the Sully family out of their tent, and they were all watching you now, concern and sadness displayed across their beautiful faces.
“You all lied to me. Looked me in the fucking eyes and lied to me, every day, multiple times a day. You were supposed to be my family.
The humans are coming. I will be here. I will stand and fight, you know I will. I will be your little soldier, and be who you made me into.
But I want to make this perfectly clear. As far as I am concerned, you and I, we are done. I am done.” You looked at every Sully one last time, and left.
You were no longer delightfully numb, but burning with anger and earth-shattering sorrow as you stalked away from the village, leaving everything behind. Your eyes were blurry with endless tears, mourning this life and this family that you managed to gain and lose within the span of a few weeks, reeling from the wounds within your heart that never had a chance to mend before being opened again, over and over. You didn’t want to go back to the lab, knowing Neteyam was most likely looking for you there. You couldn’t go to the clearing for the same reason. You had no home anymore, no place in this world, once again. You could only think of one place to go, one place where no one would ever look for you.
Your knees were shaking furiously as you walked, and you were scared of another flashback that you would have to ride out by yourself, but it never came. You just walked, crying and panting from all the pain the last 24 hours brought, and eventually you made it to a place you never thought you would ever see again. The clearing looked peaceful, with rays of light penetrating through tree branches, creating Mandalas on the ground that you found yourself tracing with your eyes.
In the corner, lay a decrepit exo suit, and you made your way to it, settling on the ground next to it. You knew now this exo suit belonged to your dad, and you removed some vines that grew on top of his name, Gideon Barlowe. A beautiful name, you thought, and your mind wandered to the past, a past way before you were even born, and wondered what your grandparents did back on Earth. Did they encourage their son to leave his own planet in pursuit of planetary colonisation, monetary gain and murderous acts? Did they know? Did he know? Was he like that his whole life, or did he start off fighting the good fight, and was corrupted by the jagged and monstrous lifestyle? You wondered if this was what he has always dreamt of doing, or he had secret dreams of being a painter, or a gardener. Did he play guitar, too? You snored sometimes, did you get that from him? You had so many questions for this man you shared half your DNA with, but have never met. For the man that died on a planet far away from home, alone, with no one to mourn him.
Was that going to be you? Would Neteyam remember you in 20 years, when he would tell stories about his childhood to his kids, when he remembered the good old times? Would you get a Na’vi send off? Or were you going to be buried somewhere in the forest, for someone to stumble upon in a distant future you would no longer be a part of?
Sobbing uncontrollably, you heard yourself speak in between wails. “Why am I here? Great Mother, please tell me there is more to this life, there is more to life than this, because I cannot do this anymore. I am so tired. I have tried to keep going my whole life, even when I wanted nothing more than to cease to exist, blissfully collapse in an ether where I didn’t have to feel anything anymore. I kept going because I wanted to make my mum proud, I wanted to honour the body and life she has given me. I am trying so hard, but I am really fucking tired.”
A little past eclipse, you arrived at the lab, and used the keycard you remembered to bring with you. You hoped Neteyam would be gone by now, in case he was trying to find you here. You made your way through the hub and into your bedroom, which looked tiny in your Avatar body. You realise how uncomfortable it must have been for him to be here so often, then cursed your brain for making you think about such things. Your Avatar body needed a bed, so you walked slowly to where the other Avatar bodies usually were laid to rest for the night. There should be an empty space where your mum or Grace used to sleep. It didn’t take long for you to wake up back in the linkpod, as with most nights recently, you were barely able to maintain the neurolink by the time evening came.
Max was waiting for you. “Neteyam came by. He’s been looking for you, said you left the village yesterday and didn’t come back. He was worried sick.”
You didn’t answer him, as you slowly got out of the pod and tried to steady your feet on the ground, harder than it seemed when the entire room was spinning around you.
“What happened?”
“The mate you all hid from me for weeks came announcing herself in my tent as we were just about to kiss.”
“Any other questions?”
You didn’t wait for a response before you made your way out of the room, stalking towards the medical ward.
As you retired to your room for the night, you noted the morphine was not working as well as used to anymore. You sat on the bed, looking at the arm that was getting blue at the amount of needle holes it had, and you knew then you didn’t have much time left. Maybe a couple of days. A couple more days of this. And then it would finally be over. You gave it a fair shot, this life thing. You couldn’t say you felt particularly sad at the thought of it ending. You pressed play on your vintage record player and let yourself sleep.
“Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe, all the hell you gave me?
'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you, til my dying day”
You spent the next 2 days in a haze, drugged out of your mind, waking up before eclipse and leaving to your dad’s grave and sleeping in the woods until the night, barely able to make it on your own two feet. Even in your human body, Neyn recognised you, and stood by you, which gave you some peace of mind. You made sure to bring her fruits from the lab, and she cooed warmly as she settled next to you.
When you made your way back that night, Norm was waiting.
“Where the hell have you been? Everyone’s been looking for you for 3 fucking days.”
You removed your oxygen mask and made your way to the room, where he followed you. You were in so much pain you couldn’t see straight.
“I am talking to you!” he took you by your arm and spun you around. The motion made you instantly sick, and you struggled to keep down the fruits you shared with your ikran.
“Let go of me, Norm.” you had no strength in your body anymore, so it took you awhile to shake him off.
“You look like shit. What did you do?”
You managed to make it to the bathroom, where you shut the door behind you and got in the shower. Fortunately, for you or him, you couldn’t tell, Norm was gone when you came out.
The next morning, you woke up desperately searching for pain relief and didn’t know if you were going to be able to make it to the ward before your knees would collapse on themselves. You were shaking and dizzy, out of your mind with agony and walking to the bathroom felt like the most intensive workout you have ever done. You peered up at yourself in the mirror and were scared at the eyes watching you, rabid and wild, like an injured animal waiting to lash out. It was too much for you to bear, and before you could even think or rationalise, you felt your fingers curl into a fist and make contact with the cold glass of the mirror, shattering in dozens of pieces, and it made you weirdly happy to have a visual representation of how your soul felt. The instant pain of the all the wounds the smash caused also gave you a weird sense of euphoria, and you realised it was taking away from the pain in the rest of the body, which was only able to focus on one agonising sensation at a time. This felt like a kiss by comparison, and you knew then you could go on a little longer, you could continue with the rest of the day.
Norm came bursting through the door at the loud crash.
“What the hell happened? Are you okay?”
You came out of your bathroom, blood dripping all over the floor as you made your way to the bed, sitting down on it.
“Leave, Norm.”
“What?”
“Leave.”
“What the hell has gotten into you recently. you are rude and brash, and you hurt people’s feelings with no remorse. This isn’t you.”
“What the hell do you know about me, Norm?” you say, laughing bitterly.
“Ace, stop.”
“You don’t know anything, Norm.” you kept going, the fury and hurt getting the best of you, once again, your need to destroy everything in your path as a way to cope with your own heartbreak winning by a landslide.     
“Did you know I have needed pills to sleep and to live a normal day-to-day life since I was 13? I have been slowly depleting our sleeping pill and benzodiazepines inventory and replacing it with multivitamin pills I found in one of the drawers. I mean thank God none of you suffer from anxiety or panic disorder or need help sleeping cause I would have been busted so long ago.”
You laughed mockingly at his shocked face, jaw so close the floor now you could trip on it on your way out.
“Did you know I am about a week and a half away from dying after I accidentally smashed a vial of infected blood and got it in my mouth?”
You stand corrected, you think now his jaw was close enough to the floor to trip on it.
“Did you know I have upgraded from a pill addiction to a full blown opioid addiction in order to not collapse on the floor in excruciating pain because of the way this virus is eating at my insides? Yeah, yeah, that’s right. We’re almost out of a whole vial of morphine after I injected it in my veins every day for a while now.”
He had no words. “That’s about right.”
“I do know one thing you do know, though. You know that Neteyam had his mate announcement ceremony that day I took off. You were there to see the two love birds announce their love and pledge their commitment to each other the one day I was not there. And that’s why you were acting shifty. You know about that. And somehow you forgot to tell me, every day, for weeks. How does that work out, Norm, hmm?”
“I felt so bad for snapping at you a couple of days ago. I felt like a horrible fucking person for hurting your feelings. I should have been watching my back, instead.”
You got up from your bed and started walking towards the door.
“If I were you I would not linger in a room with poisoned blood dripping on the floor for too long.”
You found some paper towels at the side of your bed and wrapped them around your bleeding, pained hand, and with that, you left.
After you upped the morphine you usually took, you went to the lab and prepped a hood for some more experiments. Work was a good way to get your mind off things, to mindlessly do something that had a purpose other than driving you to the brink of insanity.
You heard a loud banging noise coming from the entrance, and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who it was. You heard Norm open the door.
“Is she here?”
“Yeah, but Neteyam, I think you should go. She’s not in a good place, and I really don’t think doing this will end well for either of you.”
“I don’t care, I have to talk to her, I have been looking for her for 3 fucking days.”
You heard the door to the lab slide open and hissed at the man you knew would be trying to come in, realising hissing in a human body doesn’t have nearly the same effect.
“Get the fuck out, Neteyam. This is a sterile room.”
“I don’t fucking care about the room, Atan. Where the fuck have you been? Please come out so we can talk.”
You threw your head back and laughed, really laughed.
“You really are delusional if you think there is any way in heaven and hell I would want to hear anything you have got to say. The time for talking was a couple months ago, Neteyam. The time for talking was the first day I got my Avatar body, where in addendum to telling me you own my ass now, you could have also sprinkled in the fact your are now mated with someone else.”
“I am not mated with anyone, for fuck’s sake. Just come out so we can talk, please. I will explain everything, please!”
You stopped what you were doing and looked at him, for the first time since that day. He looked exhausted, anguished. Deep purple bags under his eyes, that were burning red where the whites should be. He has been crying. Good, you thought. He looked panicked and miserable and desperate for you to give him the time of day, for you to allow him to explain the unexplainable.
You sighed and your heart constricted in pain. Neteyam will not be happy until there was nothing left of you, until he took everything from you. At the same time, you were curious, morbidly curious as to what has actually happened, what led to this moment. You knew he loved you. You knew that much, but it didn’t seem to matter in this moment, as he broke your heart for what felt like the thousandth time in your short life.
“Go to the clearing, I’ll come when I’m ready.”
You half considered just leaving him there to wait, abandoning him just he did to you. You finished splitting your cells and treating them, and in about an hour, you went into the linkpod and took your Avatar for a walk in the woods. You reached the clearing shortly, as it was close enough that even child you could do it without getting too far away from the building.
You saw him standing there, his back turned to you and his legs submerged in the river that was rushing violently downstream. It was a cold day, and rain was trickling down your body like shivers from a kiss. There was tension in the air, and you knew a storm was coming. You could practically feel the charge in the atmosphere, and were expecting thunder to start any minute now, ready to mirror the agony in your soul.
“I’m here.”
He didn’t speak for a while. Just stood looking at the river, deep in thought.
“So many of our moments throughout the years happened here. Remember when I taught you to swim in the river? Now, in retrospective, that was a bad idea since the water kept taking you away, to the point I had to wait at the end so I could catch you in my arms, like you were a baby.”
You winced at the memory.  You thought you could do this. You felt numb in that lab, numb on the way here, but as soon as your eyes focused on him, tears starting pooling in your eyes and pain overtook your body, that you tried to counteract by wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. He’s caused you so much hurt, so much grief in the years he’s known you. But he was also at the forefront of most of your happiest memories. You could fill endless manuscripts with the beauty of his love, that shone so brightly over you your whole life. He was the light in all the darkness and you honestly didn’t think you would have survived this journey without him.
That is why this hurt so much, why your body was convulsing on itself in insurmountable grief. And also why you owed him this much. Owed him this conversation, and the right to explain his point of view, that you were still unfamiliar with.
“I remember. I remember even at the time, thinking this was a good metaphor for our relationship. Life kept sweeping me off my feet, but you were always there to catch me, before it could take me away. I had so much faith in you back then, you were a fact of life, like the eclipse. You were the one person in this world I thought would never hurt me.”
“Fuck, Y/N, all I did before I left is hurt you.”
“What are you talking about?” You were confused at the turn this conversation took. What did he mean? You couldn’t recall a single time Neteyam hurt you before you left. Sure, you would fight and bicker sometimes, but it was a normal part of any relationship, you thought. And he always made it up to you, would always come to the lab and sit with you with flowers he collected or trinkets he found in the woods, always holding you and kissing your forehead to make sure you were over it before he had to leave. Fighting with him was ironically one of your favourite things, because you knew the aftermath was the closest you ever felt to being in heaven.
“I almost fucking killed you. Or have you forgotten? Have you forgotten how I manipulated you into getting on top of an ikran when you were just a 13 year old human and almost watched you die? Have you forgotten I took you to the woods and raced you to your dad’s remains? I was a walking magnet for disasters in your life and I was tired, so fucking tired of watching your life fall apart all around me. I had to watch you learn to walk again, limp because of my actions, for years. I had to pull you out of flashbacks and nightmares you developed because of ME. You were always fine in the woods with Lo’ak or Kiri, but everything bad that has happened to you happened around me.”
He was crying, panting and angry, at himself or you or the universe, you couldn’t tell.
“I thought that if I left, you would be ok. I just wanted to protect you. My whole life, all I have wanted was for you to be ok. But it seems no matter what I do, I keep fucking up.”
You had no words to speak as you lay there, listening to him letting you in to a secret you have spent so many months agonising over. The reason for his departure haunted you for a year and a half, even when you refused to think about him, about it, it was there, constantly emerging from the depths of your subconsciousness, taunting you in your dreams. Why? Why? Why?
Because he wanted to protect you?
You didn’t have time to process all of this new information, before he continued.
“The night you found your dad, I was shaken to my core, in a way I have never truly been before. I was so heartbroken, for you and for myself, for knowing this will haunt you for the rest of your life. I went home and mother found me, and told me that maybe I can’t help you in the way I’ve always wanted. That maybe it’s better for you that I remove myself for a while and leave you room to breathe and heal. So I did. It took me a long time to get the strength to do it. Every time I thought today is the day, I would see you and you would smile at me, and we would sit on your bed and you would read to me or play me songs or just be there, just you and me, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. You were everything to me, my light in all the darkness.
A year later, you sang me the song and you were smiling at me singing it, and I knew you were confessing feelings we have both felt for years and couldn’t say out loud. And I knew that if I stayed, whatever we had would escalate past the point of no return. If I stayed, that would be it. And that’s when I decided. I thought I was doing us both a favour. I knew it would hurt you, just as much as it hurt me, but I thought the pain would subside in time.”
You were crying now, you realised, tears falling silently and effortlessly down your face, with no intention to ever stop, instantly washed away by the pouring rain. There were no sounds, no sobs or wails, or panted breaths, just the sounds of rain and hopeless, soft cries and muffled sniffles, for the man in front of you, for all that you have lost, for the past you shared and the future that you would never have.
He got up from where he stood and turned around to face you. He walked towards you until he was so close to you could feel his breath on your face. His stare made goosebumps appear on your entire body, so earnest and desperate, so full of intensity for the words he was trying to convey to you.
“It didn’t.” He said, at the same time you thought the same words in your mind.
“A few years ago, mother and father told me I would one day have to find a mate. They knew and I knew it was expected of me, but I always put it off, so they eventually dropped it. I learnt later they both knew about us, so they didn’t push me into anything until they felt I was ready. A few months after they realised I decided to leave, they started bringing it up again. I didn’t want to hear it, but they said it was time, as I had refused for years longer than what was acceptable in the clan. I met with so many girls, all from good families, all healers in training, all wrong. Beautiful girls, smart girls, skilled healers and singers, and it was like looking at the grey walls of your lab. I felt nothing, I felt sick just thinking about it, like just the thought would be betraying the memory of our bond. Eventually, I told them they can decide. Grandma can decide whatever she thinks is best, and, as Tsahik, I would listen to her voice and wisdom, and do my duty to the clan. She chose Tiongli. I knew her growing up, and we were friendly, so I tried to make an effort. I would go to her tent, and she would show me her training sometimes, I would let her heal my wounds and imagined it was your hands touching me instead. I visited her family and paid my respects, and had dinner with them whenever they invited me. I hoped in time, I could learn to care for her, to lessen the distaste in my mouth whenever my family or the clan talked about the future, about the ceremony, about the life I was supposed to lead that I hated even the thought of.
And then, one day, my dad sent me to get Lo’ak from the lab. I was so scared of knowing I would have to see you again. It had been so long, and so many feelings gnawed at me on the walk there, terror and anxiety, guilt and longing. But then I saw you, and there was only one feeling: love. Like no time had passed at all. I knew then I was going to love you for the rest of my life, and that will never change. That was my fact of life, my eclipse.”
He slowly took your face in his hands, and his thumb was caressing your cheek trying to wipe the tears and raindrops that were falling mercilessly. You saw his face slowly getting closer to yours, and you knew you should pull away, you should remove yourself from his grasp before the kiss was going to remove the last ounce of happiness from you. You knew what you had to do, knew that no matter what information or answers or justifications he would give you today, they wouldn’t matter. You should pull away, because there is no future, no hope. But you couldn’t. You didn’t know what waited for you in the afterlife, but if there was any chance you would have your memories, you wanted this kiss to haunt you forever, to remind you of the life you left behind.
His lips touched yours so gently, it felt like a whisper. Like a hug, tender and warm, it was so different than your first kiss. Tears were still running down your face as your lips moved, entangled with his and begging for more. Your hands went to his chest, to his neck, to his back, just touching him, trying to memorise his body, this feeling. You wanted so much more, you wanted to be his, you wanted to feel him, you wanted him to own you, like he did your heart, which has been his your entire life and will still be his after your death.
You were a mess of wet tangled limbs and panted breaths by the end, and eventually, he broke the kiss to look at you through teary eyes.
“I love you, I will always love you. I am so sorry.”
“I love you, too.”
“But this doesn’t change anything, Neteyam.”
“Thank you, for finally telling me why you left. For giving me some closure for something that has plagued me for so long, it became a constant part of my nightmares. Thank you for having my best interest at heart; it couldn’t have been easy to leave, if you didn’t want to, it took a strong heart to do something that hurt you for what you thought was the lesser evil. But it doesn’t change anything.”
“You left me. You broke me. And you never gave me a chance to make my own decisions. To figure out for myself what was the path forward. I have NEVER blamed you for my misfortunes. The ikran ride is still a beautiful memory to me. You made it a beautiful memory. If it weren’t for your quick thinking, we probably would have both died at the hands of Toruk. You saved my life, Neteyam. You carried me home and stayed with me while I was having surgery, you stayed with me after, while I recovered. You pulled me out of the worst panic attack I have ever had when I found my dad, and you rode out so many of my flashbacks, I have lost count. You weren’t the cause or the common denominator of these events, I was. I am the one plagued by misfortune and hurt and death. Not you. And if you tell me you had to leave to save your own peace of mind, I would respect that. I don’t know anyone in this world who can take this, take me and all the shit that follows me everywhere I go. I don’t blame you.
But if you tell me that you did this for me, that I can’t accept. I didn’t ask for any of this. You gave me no choice, and no say in this relationship, in our shared life. You just left. I deserved better than that. And I deserved better than to find out about a mate after months of lies and manipulation and deceit. I don’t care. I don’t care if you are going to say that you didn’t want it, or you were going to undo it, or that you’ve always loved me and never her. I don’t care. You lied to me, you manipulated me. You accused me of fucking your brother as you were promised to another woman that you hid from me for months. I do blame you for that, and I will never be able to forgive you.”
“Please, Atan…I will tell her no. I will tell her -.” he was sobbing now, his hands still on your face, pleading.
“No.” you slowly took his hands in yours and removed them from your face.
“I think you should do it, Neteyam. She is a good girl, she will make a good Tsahik, and a good mate. Your mother was right, there is no future here - there never was. I love you, so much. But I think you have broken my heart one too many times. I am done.”
You turned your back and walked away from him and the life that was lost - forever.
You were completely soaked when you arrived in the lab, and you went straight to the Avatar laying room and cried. Cried until it felt like no more tears could possibly come out of you. You cried yourself to sleep and then cried in the pod, on the way to your bedroom, and in bed until your human body eventually collapsed from exhaustion. You cried in your dreams, in which Neteyam was kissing you and touching you, doing all the things you were silently begging him to in your mind just a few hours ago.
Eventually, nightfall came, and you had to get up to do the rest of your experiments and top up your analgesic. Ironically enough, you were making real progress on your work. You found a combination therapy that was showing incredible potential in slowing the virus down. It wasn’t enough to stop and eradicate it, but it was enough to give people more time and hopefully give the scientists more time to find a cure. It wouldn’t help you, but maybe you could still help others.
At some paint through the night, as you were making up some reagents, Norm bursts through the door holding a bunch of equipment and some pills, you realise. He puts them down on the bench behind you and speaks.
“Right, stop whatever you are doing, right now.”
“I am in the middle of something.”
“I don’t fucking care. Stop, now.”
You were taken aback at his words and attitude. Norm never got mad, or lost his composure. He was so most well balanced person you knew.
You put the pipette gun down and turned around to face him.
“I still need to adjust the pH on this.”
He ignored you while he prepared the myriad of little gadgets he brought with him. He motioned for you to take off your lab coat, and you rolled your eyes in annoyance, but did as you were told regardless. You were too tired to argue anymore.
He raised the sleeves of your top until they couldn’t go any further up your arm and put a blood pressure monitor on you. You felt tension as its sleeve tightened around you painfully, but eventually it gave out with a puff, and you heard beeping as the machine finished its reading. You looked to your right where the monitor lay, and saw red lights flashing, letting Norm know your blood pressure and pulse were dangerously low. His eyes widened slightly at the sight, but he held his composure, removing the gadget from around your arm and putting it away. He then read your oxygen levels, which you saw were constantly dabbling between 89 and 90%. Not good, you thought. No wonder you could barely breathe anymore. Norm cursed silently under his breath, trying to not let you see him, but if there was one thing you were good at, it’s reading people. Well, you thought you were, at least.
“Did you do any tests on your blood? How is your complete blood count looking?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Why the fuck not, Ace? It’s not like you don’t know how to do it.”
He was angry, really angry. You’ve never seen Norm this angry, you’ve never seen Norm acting this way towards you.
You just shrugged. With a huff of annoyance, he took your arm and prepared a needle and syringe to collect some blood. He gulped and you could see tears forming in his eyes when he looked at the violet bruises and needle holes that were plastered along the length of your brachial vein.
“Just didn’t get around to it.”
“You didn’t - Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
“What medicine have you been taking? Did you take the Relenta, or the combination therapy we have been working on?”
“Neither.”
You swear you saw Norm’s entire body enter a catatonic state and he turned so red you were worried he was going to release steam out of his ears.
“You have been sick for a month and did not take anything, none of the treatments we have been working on?”
You couldn’t look him in the eye anymore, finding comfort in the pattern of the tiles on the floor.
“I can’t believe you. I didn’t peg you for someone who would just throw their life away meaninglessly. Your mum had to die because we didn’t have a way to treat her illness, and here we are, with a solution that YOU came up with for your own illness, and you will just not even try?”
You were quiet, not really having a way to rebut his questions.
“Fine. We will start you on the combination treatment tonight and take it from there. There’s other things we haven’t tried yet and I’m sure -“
“NO.”
“I’m not asking you. I’m not letting you fucking die.”
“Why must you always fucking try to fix everything, Norm? Some things can’t be fixed. I don’t want the fucking pills. I am done. I want this to be done.”
“So you’ll just die? Is that what you’re saying? You want to die, and not even fucking TRY to see if there is more to this life. Goddamn it, Y/N. I thought having the Avatar would help you realise life is worth living, there’s beauty in this world beyond the walls of this lab. You got your first kill, you did the Iknimaya, you’re going to become one of the people. Don’t you want to see what your future holds? Don’t you want to live to see yourself grow up? Fall in love, start a family. There are more guys in this world than just Neteyam.”
You gave Norm a dirty look and got out of the lab.
Neteyam felt his whole body reel after your conversation. It didn’t change anything, he thought bitterly. He thought explaining it to you, allowing to see that he had good reasons for his actions would allow you to forgive him, to at least allow him the opportunity to make it up to you through time. You left, just like he had so long ago, but there was a finality to you that he didn’t feel then. Back then, he always had hope that a miracle would still be possible, one in which you got an Avatar, healed and loved him, forever. He wanted to love you forever, but his apology and explanations were not enough.
He lost you, again.
He spent the night flying on his Ikran, just flying and letting the rain soak his thoughts and hurt away. He just wanted to disappear. He wanted the rain to melt his bones until there was nothing left of him but the memory of happier times.
In the early hours of the morning, he made it back to the village, trying to hide his cried out eyes and calamitous grief. He was dreading having to talk to his parents, to explain to them what happened, to have to go through with Tiongli and this future he didn’t want and will have to suffer through for the rest of his life. He didn’t have time to worry about it too much though, because, as he managed to get to the tent’s entrance, he heard Norm’s voice and his dad’s, intertwined with his grandma’s voice rising above them.
“It won’t work. Eywa will not allow her to come back.”
“Why not? She has taken her Iknimaya, she has completed her kills, she has spent her entire life in the village’s service, trying to help the best way she knew how. If she doesn’t deserve this, who does?”
“It’s not that she doesn’t deserve it. It’s that she doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want this, Norm. The Great Mother will not transfer the conscience of someone with no future.”
“But maybe if this happened, she will realise that she wants to live. Once she’s rid herself of her weak body, of this disease, maybe she will -“
“The Great Mother’s word is final. She will die, because she wants to die.”
Mo’at’s voice rang in his ears so hard he thought his eardrums would pop.
She doesn’t want it.
She will die.
What were they talking about? Who would die?
No… it couldn’t be. No, the Great Mother wouldn’t be so cruel.
He didn’t wait to hear the rest of the conversation, running as fast as his feet could carry him back to the lab. He reached soon enough, he was faster than most other people in the village, and started knocking on the door of the lab with all his might.
“Y/N, OPEN UP, I KNOW YOU ARE IN THERE!”
Eventually, Max came to the door, through which Neteyam burst without consideration for the tiny human next to him.
“She’s not in, Neteyam. She left before any of us had a chance to say anything.”
“Was she in her Avatar body?”
“No, the body is in the den where they sleep.”
He didn’t bother thanking the man, as he turned on his heel and started running again. She was there, had to be.
It was still raining, the clouds relentless as they released drops that poured gently down his face and body, and Neteyam thought the Great mother was crying, mourning the love being washed away like a pebble in the river of the clearing, just like he was.
You were there, of course you were. A current shocked Neteyam at the sight of you. This was the first time he has seen your human body in months, and he found it hard to reconcile the image of you he has known all his life with this current one. You were incredibly thin, so thin, whereas a few months ago he could trace your muscles, he could now trace your bones. You were pale, almost ashen, and the hair that he once spent so long admiring was now brittle and dull, obvious even as it was, wet and clinging to your back. You looked lifeless. He felt a lump form in his throat and tears pool in his eyes that were still not dry from all the pain this day has brought.
You didn’t notice him yet, your human ears much less sensitive than your Avatar, so you were just sitting on the riverbank with your chin resting on your knees, which were brought to your chest and your arms wrapped tightly around them. You were looking at the water, and it was like you weren’t actually there. You were in your own world, far from here, from this hurt.
“I was going to ask if it was true, what I heard Norm talk about in the tent today, but I think you’ve answered my question.”
Neteyam saw you flinch, and it felt like even that brought your weak frame pain. You were trembling when you looked at him, and your face made his own drop in shock. Your beautiful features, the blush in your cheeks, the glimmer in your eye, the pink of your lips, your animated expressions or raised eyebrows, were all gone. Your eyes looked glossed over and numb, your face looked ghostly and sunken, and Neteyam swore he could trace every blood vessel on your forehead and neck. The sight of you made whatever happiness or hope he had left dissolve and trickle down his bones, until it reached the ground where it was eventually buried, never to be seen again.
“I didn’t think I could make myself any clearer, Neteyam.”
“tell me it isn’t true. Tell me he’s lying; he’s making it up.”
“What part?”
“All of it.” Neteyam was angry now, trying to contain the temper rising in his chest.
“Tell me you’re not dying.”
“Norm has a big fucking mouth.”
“Can you for once in your fucking life just answer a question? This is fucking serious!”
You winced at his words, then struggled to get up, but did eventually and fully face him. The state of you hit him like bullets, piercing and scraping at his every organ, leaving bleeding wounds behind.
“It’s true”.
Crack, crack, crack. 
“When?”
“The night you gave me the guitar. I was so busy being in love with you I forgot to put the proper protection on, and I smashed a bottle of infected blood. It got in my mouth, in my nose.”
“I thought you were working on a cure.”
“Haven’t found it yet.”
“But you said you have something that kind of works, something to give people more time.”
“I’m human, it doesn’t work that way for us.”
“So, you’ve tried.”
You weren’t looking at him anymore, just staring at the ground in front of you, somewhere next to Neteyam’s feet.
“Tell me you have fucking tried.”
It thundered aggressively as Neteyam said that, and he saw you once again tremble at the loud sound. You have never been a jumpy person. You were the bravest person he knew. You were the strongest person he knew. It was unspeakable having to watch you now, sitting meekly in front of him, when just a few days ago you took the Iknimaya, taking the climb to the toughest tests known to the Omatikaya, doing it like it was nothing, just another day for you. To know that this is what was hiding underneath, this is what you hid from all of them, made him both impossibly miserable and strikingly enraged at the same time.
“TELL ME YOU HAVE TRIED.”
“NO, OKAY?? NO, I HAVEN’T FUCKING TRIED.” You were sobbing now, your tears washed away by the rain and wind as soon as they fell down your cheeks.
“Why?”
“Because I am tired. I want this to end.”
“I thought you were happy. I thought you were better. You seemed better in the Avatar.”
“I was better… in the Avatar. Because that wasn’t my life. That was just a beautiful dream, while my life was the never-ending nightmare. It was easy to pretend in that body. It was easy to be the version of myself everybody wanted me to be. But I have to live with the real me every night. And I don’t want to do it anymore.” The more you cried, the more Neteyam’s blood boiled in his veins.
“That’s such fucking bullshit.”
“You know what I think?”
“I think dying is fucking easy. It’s your easy way out.”
You looked up at his much larger frame incredulously, and he saw how your mood was starting to mirror his own.
“What did you just say? You think this is fucking easy for me?”
“Yes, I think it is. I think all you’ve done since your mum has died is take the easy way out. Put everything and everyone in your little bottom desk drawer, keeping everyone at a distance. Do you know how much mother and father suffered every time you refused to come out, to come to the village? My mother cried herself to sleep at the thought of you alone in that lab, at the thought that you preferred that soulless, empty place to her, to us. Did you know that?
You have not once opened that drawer, not once dealt with anything. All you do is numb yourself down, pretend you are fine and the issues you have suffered through do not exist. Well guess fucking what, Atan? They exist. And until you deal with that pain and let it pass over you and through you, you will always take the easy way out.
You have made me feel like the worst person in the world, for leaving, for lying to you. But what the fuck have you done, huh? You lied to me about dying, for weeks! About dying! What, was I supposed to find you dead one day and that was it? That was what I deserved from you, after all the blood, sweat and tears I gave you? You said I took your choice away. You wouldn’t have even given me a choice to say goodbye to the love of my life before you fucking died!
I left you for a year because I wanted to protect you, you are leaving permanently because you refuse to fucking deal with the pain and hurt I know you feel deep down inside. You had a choice. You could have come to the many people who love you, love you unconditionally, and told us, and let us in, and let us help you. You could have gotten help, taken the pills, fight your damn hardest to make this work, to find a cure, for the life your mum gave you, the life she would have to watch you throw away. You have a choice now. To want to live, to want to fight through this and come out the other side a new, better person. To let me love you, let people love you. To do the consciousness transfer and be with me, and be happy, forever. And you’re choosing this.
You are a coward.”
Neteyam turned on his heel and walked away, before he got a chance to see you collapse on the ground, giving your last few breaths in the place he used to imagine both of your children laying in his arms peacefully while you sang them to sleep.
Tag list (I hope I didn't miss anyone, thank you so much for asking to be tagged &lt;3): @nuhteyam @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @mashiromochi @puffb4ll @sassy-persona @simp4ff @mommyneytiri @inomoikawa @jackiehollanderr @jaysarchiv3 @meivap @dakotali @hlhl99 @eskamybeloved @erenjaegerwifee @winchestertitties
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miseta · 10 days ago
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Chapter 12 ➺ Broken nights
Starting over In Madrid
Misa Rodriguez x Reader (Nicky/first person)
After moving to Madrid as the new Real Madrid photographer, Nicky's eyes can't look away from the pretty face of Misa Rodriguez. But how is she going to handle her growing desire for the Canarian goalkeeper when her working contract's strictly forbidding her to date players? Chapter 1 ➺ A harder job than I thought Chapter 2 ➺ Clearly on a bad slope Chapter 3 ➺ Calmly panicking Chapter 4 ➺ Hell Clasico Chapter 5 ➺ Valleys and peaks Chapter 6 ➺ Paris est magique! Chapter 7 ➺ In the haze Chapter 8 ➺ Confusion and directions Chapter 9 ➺ A place for words Chapter 10 ➺ Not a cloud in sight Chapter 11 ➺ Dangerous steps TW: angst 5K words
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Hayley entered the hospital room with a rather anxious face. Bright vivid lights tinted the place with a gloomy atmosphere ironicaly contrasting with the poster of child playing at the beach hung to the wall. 
I’d looked at the frame for hours, the random boring picture now printed on my retina. My phone had died, and I had no charger so I had nothing to do excepted to wait for something, someone to come visit me or bringing me the precious device that could connect me to the world. 
Nurses had reassured me that I was okey and that she had contact my parents and the club to reassured them as well. However, I felt helpless, still shaken by my accident, and stressed out by how things were going for the team and for Misa. Her anxious face was printed in my mind too, having my mouth dry as I imagined her own distress when she had had no news of me for hours. 
Now, Hayley’s visit was like sunshine after a storm, lighting my gloomy bedroom with her friendly presence. However, her coming alone didn’t reassured me at all, showing, on the contrary, the absence of the person I wanted to see most. 
“Here you are Nicky!” My friend greated me, smiling mildly. 
“Hey Hayley, yeah, here I am…”, I replied, lifting my banded arm with a wince as the Aussie came at my bedside.
“Sweetie, in what a state you are…”, she said patting my shoulder with a pout. “What did the doctors said ?”
“Seven stitches on the arm and two on my waist, but fortunately nothing’s broken and the scanner’s good too. I’ll probably count the bruises tomorrow though” 
Hayley broke a smile, reassured. “Good to hear it from your mouth even if all the team already know you’re all right. As you imagine, we called the clinic to check on you as soon as the match ended.” 
I opened my mouth but Hayley went on before I could speak. “We lost. 1 to 3”. 
Silence filled the room as we gazed at each other, our look heavy with what the score implied. 
“Where’s…”
“Misa.” The winger finished. “Hum, everything has been hard for her, she… she’s processing… things and it’s too risky for her to come right now”, Hayley answered. 
My mouth was becoming really dry and I grasped my wrist in a reassuring gesture, feeling the bracelet Misa had gave me under my thumb. 
“Hayly, tell me what happened since I fell onto that fucking glass, all of it please.”
The winger sighed but her voice was calm, “When you fell, Misa rushed at your side immediately and when they took you away, well, Misa did her best to look normal. We were all shocked and scared for you of course but Misa… she cares about you like a girlfriend does, you know that, and she had a really hard time to refocus on the match…”
I buried my face in my hand, wincing again when moving my left arm, “So she took three goals… I’m really spoiling everything…” 
Hayley tried her best at conforting me, “Nobody’s mad about you Nicky, especially not Misa! She’s mad at herself above all.” 
“Then why isn’t she here?” I asked, anger building as I needed her here with me so badly.
“To protect you. Lea’s figured it out. Misa told me. She probably got it as soon as she saw Misa completely panicking at the sight of you lying on the floor covered in blood, and during the match, it’s true Misa did some pretty bad mistakes. Anybody could tell it wasn’t her night. We agreed I’d visit you not to draw more attention on her at the moment because I had to skip debrief to be able to come during visit hours. But she’ll call soon. Oh speaking of that…” Hayley pulled a charger out of her bag. “Here! You know when you’ll be out?” 
“Tomorrow morning for sure”, I sighed, Hayley helping me to plug my phone to the charger.
“Great, Misa asked me to told you she’s going to pick you up. I’ve to go home Nicky but feel free to call whenever you want!” 
“Thank you so much, you’re a real friend.” 
“Take care, sweetie” the Aussie brushed my hair affectionately before going out of the room. 
I turned on my phone as soon as she was gone. As I expected, I had dozens of messages from my parents and friends wishing me a prompt recovery. I smiled at seeing the red circle with the number eleven on it next to Misa’s name and started reading.
17h47 Mi cari… I hope you’re well…  we’re heading to the pitch I’m leaving my phone. 17h48 I’m thinking of you 💛 18h51 hope everything’s alright, I guess you can’t answer me right now  20h05 I was worrying sick but we called the clinic and they told us you’re okay and that you’re unreachable!   20h16 Lea clocked me, I can’t come to see you it’s too risky  We talked and she’s cool she won’t say anything  20h27 Hayley’s gonna come with a charger she on her way  20h41 call me when you can  Love you
I didn’t wait one more minute to press the little phone sign on the screen, my chest tightening at the dialing sound lasted.
“Cari! How are you?” 
It felt so good to just hear her voice.
***
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“Oww!”, I moaned at the feeling of the compress being pulled of my wound.
“Perdon! It’s well stuck!”, the goodie excused herself while she slowly pulled the piece of medical tape appart from my skin. She delicately finished to remove my old dressing and put sanitizer on a coton pad. “Does it hurt?” She asked as she applied the cotton on the still fresh stitches. 
“No, it’s just a little sensitive now.” 
I watched her concentrating on the task. Her brows twitched or lifted now and then, her plump lips pinching like they usually did when she was focusing on something. 
Misa continued to clean my wound a couple of minute with much care, then she made a new dressing with compress and tape. 
“We’re done here!” She said lifting her brown eyes toward mine. “You lie down on the sofa so I can change the one on your back”.
I nodded and stroke her forehead softly before doing as told. “Thanks for taking care of me, Love.”
“De nada”, she murmured and started humming a song while cleaning the other stitches.
“Porque desde que estás aquí Aquí cerca de mí Que tú eres mi baby Y ese recuerdo de tenerte sin ropa
Que no me deja dormir Sigo pensando en ti Que tú eres mi baby Y ese recuerdo de tenerte sin ropa”
I recognized the song of our holidays in Formentera, her melodious voice was like water, slowly running down, so much softer than the other Spanish people and having me wondering where that came from.
“Misa, can I ask you something?”
“Si, claro” 
“Why am I feeling you don’t talk like Madrid Spanish people do? Do you have an accent?” 
She chuckled at my question “Es el acento canario! We skip a lot of letters like the letter S. For exemple, I don’t say España but E’paña. Mas goales is ma’ goale’”.
“Ohhhh, I see now! That’s why I thought nothing was plural for you ahahah, outch!“ I winced again, the scar on my back was still sore. “Tell me something else about the canaries.” I inquired, curious about her birthplace and wishing to focus on something else than the pain.
“You already know my island is Gran Canaria, the round one. We have a micro climate in Canaria’, it’s 25 degrees and sunny almost all year. La’ Palma’ is one of the biggest city of E’paña.” 
Now that she’d explained it, I noticed every missing S in her way of speaking.
“Oh ok, that seems great! Is there a metro or tramway in Las Palmas?” 
“No but our wawa network works well!” Misa answered proudly. 
I didn’t understand what she was taking about so I repeated interrogatively, “Wawa?” 
“Jaja, yes we call our buses Wawa’ and again I’m not really pronouncing the letter G, you spell it G-U-A-G-U-A.”
“Guagua”, I echoed.
Misa chuckled once more as she finished to put compress and tape on my second wound. She sprayed a bit of sanitizer on a bad bruise close by that sent a shiver through my body, “I love mi i’la - my island - I love Madrid too but it’s not the same and all my family is there…” she paused and pulled my T shirt back down, “It’s all done, we’re good for two days”. 
I sat up on the couch, looking again into her eyes, and guilt surged as I thought of how caring she was when I was the reason of the nasty game she had endured. Misa seemed to guess my unease and frowned slightly.
My finger tips smoothed her furrowed brows, the goalkeeper closing her eyes and enjoying my little touches on her face. 
“Hummm”, she sighed as I scratched her scalp, and she rested her head against my chest. Her arms surrounded my waist and she hugged me tight, my fingers rubbing through her hair. “Are you going to be alright on your own when I’ll be gone with the team?” 
“Yes, don’t worry, I’m off work until your return and a nurse will be coming to check on me. I’ll be alright. Really Misa, do not worry about me okey?” I insisted, dreading to be the source of an other failure. 
“Vale, tiene’ razón… Let’s go in bed, my flight’s early tomorrow.”
***
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TV was set up, diner ready, my medicine taken and my dressing changed. From the sofa where I sat on in the cosiness of my home, I was bracing myself for the kick off of the Champion’s League second game, Real Madrid versus Juventus. 
The whistle blowed and the match began, the sorting deciding Madrid were having the ball. 
Straight from the start, Caroline Weir rushed past the Italian defenders, aiming for Signey Brunn, Signey striking hard and fast and the ball rebound on the fists of the goalkeeper. Yet, Caroline had moved forward and was in best position to recover that ball, quick enough to send it right into the cage before Payraud-Magnin had the time to dive for it again. The players burst of joy, and so do I, jumping from the sofa and howling in pain as the wound on my waist woke up from standing up too fast. 
The ball was given back to Juventus but they quickly lost it again. The following minutes were a succession of lost balls and touches, both goalkeepers having very little to do appart from staying focused. 
On the 35th minute, Sofia Cantore managed to get between Rocio and Olga and ended up doing a nice center, recovered by Cristiana Girelli who shot right at the left goal corner. Misa jumped high toward the ball but could do nothing but stare helplessly as it landed at the back of net. Cheers from the crowd. Silence from the other side. The shot had been neat and strong, really hard to stop but Misa pulled a face. Taking a goal was always hard to swallow. 
Moreover when the Italian attaquant Sofia Cantore escaped on her own right after the goal kick and went back straight to the cage. Misa readied herself for the shot but decided at the last minute to come out of the penalty area, rushing at the ball coming to her at full speed. Although, Sofia shot before Misa could reach her, and Real Madrid took its second goal. 
My stomach began to knot, the Misa coming off her goal line had been a big mistake, hardly punished for having taking the risk of leaving her cage exposed. The camera lasted a moment on the goalie’s tense face, her jaw clenched, frustrated and angry with herself when that goal could have been saved if she had thought better. Thus, Juventus had taken the lead because of it. 
Fortunately, the second half time started much better, Caroline and Linda managing to score respectively at the 61th and 79th minute, having me fidgeting of joy but remaining seated quietly on the sofa in fear of pain. 
However, everything changed past the 85th minute. Juventus managed to get a corner, shooting it nicely to the waiting head of Estelle Cascarino, her header sending it right into Misa’s gloves. The goalkeeper’s grip wasn’t firm enough and the ball slipped away from her outstretched hand, falling onto the grass and rolling lazily to Estelle’s feet. The defender took her second chance, kicking swiftly into the opened part of the cage. Misa was defeated. Not grasping the ball was a beginner mistake. 
I shrank into the couch, afraid, only to see Juventus taking the ball back toward Misa’s cage, Misa bracing herself for the attack again, clearly panicked to take yet another goal. Maelle Lakrar succeeded at tackling the Italian striker nicely and the ball rolled to the feet of Olga, but she was pressed hard by Cantore preventing her to cleared away the ball. After a few unsuccessful dribbles, Olga finally decided to pass the ball back to Misa. Girelli rushed to the goalkeeper as soon as she had the ball, having Misa to do a quick clearance to put away the danger. However, Misa cleared straight in front of the goal and her pass was intercepted by the midfielder Ariana Caruso, shooting high in the air. Misa followed the ball running backward, ready to jump to catch it but it decended at hand level right behind the goalie. Misa jumped, the tips of her gloves touching the ball only to see it hitting the roof of the net. 
I could not watch anymore. Misa stayed lying on the grass, the Italian player and crowd screeches field the stadium. The filming framing doesn’t allowed me to see more of Misa’s despair but I didn’t need it to know this was bad. Very bad. 
I cleared the remaining of my meal and did the dished, my mind clouded. I heard the whistle signal the game ending. Three to four. Misa had taken four goals facing a clearly dominated team. Three of them could have been avoided to the least. 
This was bad. Misa’s wasn’t well. I had never saw her played like that. 
My heart sank as I waited for her to call me, not daring to send her a message myself when she knew I had seen that awfull match.
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But two hours later, I had no call, no messages. 
I wrote her a short text, “I hope you’re well, call me when you can”. 
Time got by and she didn’t answered, my angst growing crazy until I could stand no more, and called her. The dialing sound lasted, having me wondering anxiously if she was going to pick up. 
“Hola…”, the goalie finally answered but her voice was hoarse. Had she been crying? 
“Hey Mis’… how are you?” I sensed my saliva drying in my mouth.
“Buah, not very well I guess…” 
Silence settled between us as I waited for her to go on, however, she said nothing else, thus I inquired with caution, “Fuck, sweetie… is there anything I can do?”
I heard her sniff and sight heavily and angst gripped me a little more, “eh… no, I… we…”
But the woman stopped to let a rasping breath and my stomach knotted itself entirely. Dread crashed onto my body as I stayed floating in the awful quietness. I muttered a voiceless prayer but deep inside I knew what was coming next.
“I think we should stop”.
If only I could have been wrong. 
Silence settled again and I could only hear the loud and fast beats of my heart. I swallowed almost nothing, my mouth dryer than after a run. 
“Lo siento mucho”, the strangle voice of Misa said through the phone. “ I can’t…”
“…go on like this, I know,” I finished. Tears streamed from my eyes but my body was numb with shock, I felt I had stopped breathing. 
“You… should get the chance to fulfill your work aspirations…”, she added. 
I really couldn’t breath anymore, through air indeed went in and out of my lungs.
“…and I need to focus back on mine”, she concluded. Her sniffs achieved to break my heart into pieces. 
She’s right.
But I love her. 
But she’s right. I’m not doing her any good, I’m even ruining her performances… I shouldn’t fight for this. 
“I…get it”, because I love you, I added in my mind. “I guess I’m going to hang up now… too hard.” I managed to articulate, my body fighting against the sobs trying to come out now. 
“I’m so sorry… take care Nicky”
My chest shook uncontrollably for containing the sobs. I couldn’t say anything, still I couldn’t hang up after all. It would mean it would be over. Our relationship would end with the call. 
But then it hit me. 
It was over already, we had just break up. 
I spoiled a minute trying to regain my ability to speak, my blurred sight composing the soft features of her face as tears and sobs escaped madly. 
“Take care, you’re the best, Love…” I finally stuttered in a broken voice and I found the strength to press the red circle just after. 
I dropped my phone on the sofa, fighting to retake my breath as sobs took all over my body with an inimaginable strength. Every inches of my being ached, my mind drowning in unbearable pain. It was over. We were no more. Of course she’d break up. What was I thinking dating a woman like her. I should be grateful for having her for some months. 
But I couldn’t. Pain and numbness was all I could feel. 
I couldn’t stand it.
I couldn’t.
Time had stopped. Life frozen. 
I had dragged myself to bed where I was now lying for hours, unable to sleep, unable to stop crying, unable to do anything else but stare blankly at the ceiling. Destroyed once again, I was lost in the worst part of a break up, the realization of it, of her absence, suffocating, when her presence lingered everywhere in my small home. Her toothbrush was waiting in the bathroom, some of her clothes and underwear in my closet, special ingredients for her diet remained in the kitchen. 
I tossed and turned, fighting to not drown in pain, my sadistic mind picturing her smile with her dimple on her left cheek. She was slouched in the sofa, wasting her time on her phone before joining me in bed. She was about to come now, tired and needy before sleeping, as usual. She was about to wake me up from this nightmare. It had to. 
I spent the night fighting against sleep as I knew too well I would be dreaming of her holding me close. But when dawn approached I sunk in a troubled dream where I looked for her without succeeding at finding her. When I finally reached her, Misa’s broad smile faded away and I woke up with a jolt, my arm probing the bed for her conforting body and falling onto the cold flatness of the mattress beside me. 
Everything was upside down. I had woken up in a nightmare, jet-lagged and dehydrated, reality crushing me once more as I realized the break up was real.  
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***
Two days later I was back to work, should I say back to hell. The Cuidad was no longer the familiar and reassuring place I knew but the ghostly reminder of my gone happiness. Misa’s presence had leaked everywhere here too, from the field, where fortunately I rarely went, to my office, to the locker room and the photo studio. The Cuidad was where everything had begun, the witness of our friendship and attraction slowly turning into love and care. When she dumped me, Misa took everything I’d built here and even if it was true I was happy before we started dating, I couldn’t imagine that happiness coming back now. 
Therefore, I tried to focus on work and it worked a few hours, until I had to modify a close shot of the goalie, my eyes immediately filling with tears at the sight of the features I loved so much. I kept crying as I cropped her silhouette to put it a new background. Once again, Misa was everywhere, to the very content of my work, having me trapped in an infinite sadness as more pictures of her popped on the screen. I quitted my office to get some air, but mostly to smoke the cigarettes I had bought on the way. But smoking didn’t appeased my broken heart the slightest and I ended up crying like a child in the bathroom, grasping the thin bracelet attached to my wrist I hadn’t had the strength to take off. 
On the next day, I felt lost, wandering aimlessly in the corridor, both dreading and hoping to fell on her waiting for the elevator or on my way to the parking lot. I had not seen the goalie since our break up, our goodbyes on the phone the last words between us. I navigated between numbness and sadness, exhausted by trying to get a grip, to block all thoughts and emotions toward her. On the evening, I spent hours on the phone with Angela, smoking like a fireman, telling her everything, crying more, hurting more. My best mate never mentioned the fact that she foresaw it happening and I was grateful for that. Angela wasn’t like that. I could always count on her. 
But even Angela couldn’t confort me like Misa did, only her had the ability to make me smile in a heartbeat with a bad joke or a silly pout no matter how bad my day was. Only her could really take the stress away in those hard moments. Misa gone, I also lost my confident and protector.
Fortunately, I started preparing the photo exhibition and was surprised to feel almost good about it. I buried myself into it entirely, putting all my denied feelings at showing my dedication for my job at the Real. While everything else was gone, being a photographer had stayed a consistence source of joy in my life, granting me self confidence and allowing me to express myself artistically. Somehow like a therapy, I worked for days, selecting shots, discussing exhibition and displays directions, retouching images, until I was satisfied of every pictures and the way they were going to be shown. 
So in spite of all, I started to get better days after days. Not to say enjoyable, but life seemed livable again. I got used to the fade taste not leaving my mouth, smoking not helping, the cold gray weather of the end of November matching my mood. Nothing really appealed me anymore apart photography. Things happened or did not and I didn’t care, but at least to upcoming exhibition helped me not to feel completely distraught. 
And I needed it badly as I endured seeing Misa again during matches and for specific communication needs. We didn't exchanged a word, barely looking at each other but those moments of relative proximity kept stirring the emotions I was trying so hard to bury.
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Thus, I didn't expected for her to come to find me after a particularly good game against la Real Sociedad. 
Smoking outside the stadium, my heart leaped when I saw her walking toward me. I took a glimpse behind my shoulder to check if there could be someone else she wanted to meet. But there wasn’t, and there was no doubt allowed anymore as she stopped right in front of me, her hands in her pockets and her glance dark when she saw me light up another cigarette.
“Hey“, she said, looking away. 
“Hey“, I answered coldly. If she wanted to talk to me she better do it, I was not going to make it easier for her.
“I have something to tell you. The all team guessed the "misacertijo", they know it’s you I was seeing. I didn’t confirm it but it’s pretty obvious without having to say anything.“ 
Misa lift her gaze back to me. How weird it was to be that close to her again. Something waggled in my numb body as I searched about what to answer. Of course everybody had guessed who Misa was dating. We were always friendly and close but suddenly we both stared to avoid each other. Neither of us were having the strength to pretend being in good term.
“Hum, ok. Thanks for telling me.“ I finally said and Misa furrowed her brows. 
“You’re not worried about it?“
“Nobody has proof and they’re not going to get one since it’s over…“, I explained more bitterly than I wanted to. 
Misa seemed to study me a moment and her intense gaze made my throat tighten. She had to stop looking at me like that. 
“I heard your photo exhibition is opening soon?“ 
My breathing fastened slightly. What was she playing at? 
“Yes it is. The opening will be on the 20th of December.“ 
“Well done, I’m happy for you“, she said peering down at her feet. 
She looked so usure, could I say sad? Something hot and growling stirred in me again and I took another puff of my cigarette to dismiss the feel. “Thanks, and well done for tonight as well. That was quite a match. You seem to be doing great.“ 
“I’m working hard, thanks...“ Misa said, her lips sketching the start of a smile and her brown eyes found mine again a moment. A moment during she seemed to be thinking of thousands of things, opening her mouth and closing it a few times as I kept on smoking slowly to hide my confusion.
“What about that?“ She finally asked pointing my cigarette with disgust. 
At first, I didn’t knew exactly why that made me so angry, but then I got why I suddenlty was so furious. Her jugement on what I was doing with my life, a life she had chosen not to be part of, was the last thing I needed. Moreover, she was the very reason of me smoking again. 
So, I pursed my lips, answering with a hard stare. “This is none of your business!“
I crushed my roach in the ashtray, taking the path to the parking lot without another look back at her. 
And of course, I cried again that evening and during many other after it. 
***
Champagne and cocktails flowed freely, lounge music filling the vast reception hall. Bottles were opened and poured in stemmed glasses at an enticing rhythm, the loud pops creating a funny addition to quiet notes in the background. But despite the wonderful decor, I was nervous. 
Of course, I was nervous. I wasn’t used to being under the spotlights, moreover in a foreign country, at a party of the most famous football club of the world. I glanced at the corridor showing of few of my photographies and my gaze rested a moment on a particular shot. It was a photo of Misa and Hayley sat in our pitch corner, smiling broadly while looking in the distance at something I had forgotten. No matter what happened, those moments where the three of us had connected, had stayed dear to my heart. Now, it wasn't without pride that I watch it hung against the white wall of one of the most fancy galleries of Madrid. 
Ana was eagerly twitching beside me. It had been her idea to paire the exhibition’s opening with the traditional Christmas party. Every year the club organized a special event for employee, members and a well selected guest list. For this edition, the paring had led them to chose a galerie of the center of the capital, with a vast reception room adjoining to it, were the party would take place latter. It was meant to be quite a show. On her side, Ana had been very attentive to be seen as the thinking head of all of this. But for now, she, Mariam, Eneko and I were standing in a neat line facing the entrance to welcome the guests. 
The firsts ones to arrive were a groupe of employees from the commercial department, quickly followed by some of the players.  Everybody had put on their best outfit in a demonstration of good and not so good taste. Olga was in a rather odd dress-suite but Maelle wore a smart sparkling skirt and a fancy white shirt.
As for me, I had spent hours deciding what to wear for that precise occasion. I didn’t want to be too formal but not too relaxed either. Thus, I had sent dozen of very doubtful selfies in front of the mirror to Angela and Hayley, sicking their advices and validation. 
“Nicky, we talked about this a hundred time, you’re not wearing a shirt!“, Angela had said on the speaker. 
“I have nothing else! All the tops I have are shirts or T shirts!“
“Then go for a dress, the dark blue one, you look stunning in it!“
“But I never were dresses, it feels weird…“ I had moaned, searching the pile of clothes. 
“You said you didn’t want to wear pants either, that it was too common! You said you wanted to stand out but in a good way… That was your precise words and we both know what you want deep down…“ 
I had rolled my eyes. “Well, I don’t! You do?“ 
“You want to be sexy as hell so you can impress everyone this evening“, she had answered.
My brain had instantly pictured the face of my ex-girfreind gagging at the sight of very attractive version of me. My lips had stretched into a smile and I had surrendered, “Ok, I’m trying the blue one again, but I’m not putting stilettos. What about boots?“ 
“Humm, with hills if you want your outfit to remain chic….“
I had dig out a paire of ankle high varnished black boots with medium hills I had had probably bought for some kind of party and worn two or three times in my life. I had put them on, shoved my hair to the side and sent a photo of my reflection to Angela. 
“You’re stunning Nicky!  it’s giving a "I’m good on my own boss girl and look at what you lost" vibe. Perfect.“
“Perfect“, I had echoed. 
So here I was, wearing a silky dark blue dress and hills boots, casually chatting with people, a cup of champagne in a hand and a small bag in the other, giving a very worldly version of Nicky to the now crowded place. I didn’t know where to give head, everybody greeted me, congratulated me. I grasped hands of people I had no idea who they were, explained my works a dozen times and emptied several glasses far too quickly. 
An hour or so had passed and I was in a long conversation about my vision of sport photography with a journalist named Franck when she came.
She hadn’t overdressed. She was wearing simple brown suit pants and a silver long sleeve top. I followed her from the corner of my eyes, watching her looking around, clearly searching for something or someone in the crowd. 
She took a glass, her moves usure, and looked a moment at the photographies hung on the walls. She was getting closer when she turned her head. Our eyes finally met. Her lips parted slightly before she close them again and looked away. Misa had always been pretty bad at hiding her emotions. 
A second later she had despaired into the crowd and I excused myself to Franck, unable to talk or listen anymore. Knowing Misa was there had troubled me. I quickly exit the hall to the terrace to light up a cigarette. I took a few puffs and breathed in relief the sweet poison filling my lungs. It was a pitiful compensation. I had not felt the satisfaction I had expected when she had seen me. I didn't know anymore what I wanted her to feel. Impressed? Angry? Sad? She had definitely seemed sad rather than impressed or angry.
As a matter of fact, so I was now, smoking on the terrace on my own. How many times I had dreamt of celebrating the opening of my first exhibition with her. 
With her…
I pulled at my cigarette, forcing my mind to go blank again, my now well known strategy to retain some of my sanity, when I heard a soft voice close by.
Her voice. 
“Lea please don’t...“
She was probably just around the corner, only a few feet away, still she could not see me I could not see her.
“Why not, I like you Misa. And you like me“, Lea’s assured voice replied. 
“I’m sorry, I don’t like you like this…“ 
I was frozen, torn between hearing what I shouldn’t and knowing what was going to happened. 
“Don’t you think it could change?“
“I…I don’t know Léa… I don’t think so.“
There was a silence during I dared to pull at my cigarette. 
“It’s her, right? You’re still in love with her?“ The droping voice of Léa inquired. 
My heart was drumming in my chest, my hurt and mangled soul hanging to her answer as I hold my breath in what seemed the longest seconds of my life.
“Of course I still love her“, Misa’s low and broken voice echoed in the cold night. 
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shadowbriar · 5 days ago
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Five Hargreeves — Daddy Issues
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Pairing : Five Hargreeves x (she/her) CIA!Reader Word Count : 3.3k Warning : Angst. Character death. Snogging but nothing too graphic. Season 4 references. Synopsis : He promised himself that he would not let her come near his family madness, but the marigold was melting his blood vessels and none of his siblings look like they’re ready for a real fight. Notes : Inspired by The Neighborhood - Daddy Issues. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕
The lack of presence on the other side of the bed made him pull himself entirely out off of drowsiness. Five’s frown was deep when he pulled the blanket up to cover his body, half sitting up with his elbows as support as he scans the room. It was far too early for his liking.
He caught her standing by the bookshelf, his white shirt hanging loose on her shoulders. A small satisfied smile tugs in the corner of his lips. The sight was too pretty for him to not appreciate. She was lost in her own world, caught in her own thoughts. Too busy reading the scribbles of some crumpled paper to realise that the other person in the room has awakened.
“Found something you’re looking for?”
She looks up to see him with a wide smile, looking slightly sheepish of being caught red handed, “No, but I found this,” She took out the fake moustache she found, placing it on her face “How do I look?”
“Ridiculous,” Five says, rolling his eyes “Come here so I can rip it off of you.”
Her grin only becomes wider as she comes closer to the man. She sits on the edge of the bed, leaning so that he could take the silly moustache off of her.
“What’s the story?” She asks, still curious about the peculiar item “Any exciting undercover stories you want to share?”
“You know I can’t even if I wanted to. And I don’t,” He remarks, giving her a playful disapproving look “What were you doing rummaging my stash?”
She shrugs, “I was just bored. You always wake up much later than I do.”
“It’s only what— 6 am? It's not my fault you have sleeping problems.”
She rolls her eyes in response.
Five bite down his smile as he leans in, kissing her softly.
This wasn’t what Five had in mind when he ran through the portal six years ago. Losing his powers and having to build a new life in a strange timeline was certainly not in his to-do list, but developing some clandestine affair with a girl from work was a bigger mindblown for the mentally sixty three years old man. Romance and any other personal relationship were practically out the window the moment he understood about the Apocalypse. Yet now, after one too many timelines, Five has found himself entangled with the knots of love.
He would never admit it out loud. Afraid that a confession would only spoil the fragile bond they’ve created. Hell, this was never even a proper relationship. It was just a simple deal made by two adults. A little roleplay they do whenever they’re alone. Nothing too serious, nothing too monogamous. Strictly business.
But he knew he was doomed the moment he tasted her. There was no other drug that could be as intoxicating, no other substance as addicting. The way that she knew just how much of a dose to give to get him crawling back for more. How she would push further than she pulled him. A little game she does that he’d never grow tired of.
There was only one rule— no rules within these four walls. He could show her how much he cares, how much he worships her, whenever she comes over. Not an inch of her skin left without his kiss. Five was whipped beyond saving whenever the door closes, but even with such intense affection, neither of them dared to pop the question.
“What are you thinking about?” She asks, staring deep into his eyes.
“I’m thinking whatever you’re thinking about.”
She bites her lower lip, climbing on top of him. She pulls him for a proper kiss, clinging her arms around his neck as he rests his hands on her hips.
“Tell me something I’ll forget,” She whispers, kissing the corner of his lips “Something you might have to tell me again.”
Five hesitated. The words were hanging by the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill in any second. Her gentle touch was melting his walls, breaking each and every fortress he’s built over the years. For someone who thought that he’s seen all the things in life, Five was once again caught by surprise.
“How bout I show you instead?” He offers, swapping their positions that she’s now laying on her back with him on top of her.
One of his hands travels to cup her cheek, deepening their kiss as he changes their course of action. Five could feel her smiling through the kiss, giving him the courage to continue his venture. His thumb brushes the skin of her cheek gently. Years of being a cold blooded spy had made him think that there’s no tenderness left in his soul. A broken shell of a man is all he is. Yet, he was once again proven wrong by her. Always her, only her.
It’s crazy what you’ll do for a friend.
—-
“Tell me about your past lovers.”
His grip on her hand loosen a little, brows rising from the unexpected request. It was fortunate of him to have her back leaning on his chest. This way she wouldn’t have heard the slight spike of his heart nor seen the surprise he had in his face. How he blinked and furrowed his brows as his brain tried to digest her words.
He lets go of her hand and rests his arm around her shoulder, silently caging her in an embrace in case the words he utters would make her flee, “Lover. There was only one woman.”
“What’s her name?”
“Dolores,” He sighs, the rare forlorn look in his eyes were potent “Her name was Dolores.”
“What happened between you and Dolores?”
There was a brief pause. His chest hitches as he struggles to find the words, “I.. Left her.”
“Why?”
“I had to.”
“Is that what you’re going to do to me too?” She questions. The fragility of her voice made him wince. Voicing her words barely above a whisper.
“I might,” He confesses with a heavy heart, swallowing a lump in his throat “Will you hate me then?”
She turns her head to face him, nodding like it was a promise, “I will.”
She wanted to ask more. To know deeper about what happened between him and Dolores. If their separation was recent or if he ever tried to come back to her. She wanted to know what made him leave. If there was a bigger story to tell, a bigger secret to share. She wanted to know if he loved her, if he would use his hands to trace the invisible stars on her skin and mark it with his kisses, if he would tell her the word she’s been dying to hear from him. She wanted to know it all.
And Five wanted to tell. He wanted to tell her about the fights and all the running he’s done for the past years. He wanted to tell her how Dolores was the only thing keeping him sane after being trapped in the post-apocalyptic wasteland for forty-five years. He wanted to tell her how tired he is, how he misses his powers and secretly hoped that he never got out of that hotel alive. He wanted to tell it all.
But both of their words die in their tongues. Crestfallen from all the silence that they’re bound to be stuck in. Their eyes tried their best to convey the message their lips couldn’t utter, hoping that the invisible string between them was strong enough to connect their hearts better than words ever could.
Her fingers gently tucked the stubborn strand of hair off of his face. She studies him, trying to see any trace of deceit or vice, but all she could see was the love bleeding out of him like a muck. His eyes were warm, radiating with that one sentiment she’s never seen on anyone else.
She cups both of his cheeks, softly kissing his lips, “I wish you’d let me in.”
Five shakes his head, “I’d never put you in such danger.”
“I can take care of myself,” She argues, an impressed smile decorating her face “Have you forgotten? We’re literally CIA agents.”
He smiles, pulling her head to his chest.
They would never admit it but tender moments like this scares the living out of the both of them. It felt too real, too personal to what they signed up for, but they would rather lose a limb than to miss it. For some reason such delicateness felt like it would dissipate in a moment. Like a bitter farewell was looming behind, ready to catch them off guard and without a fight.
And so they keep quiet. Letting the frail second to fall gracefully like the first drop of snow. His fingers entangle themselves with her hair while she listens carefully to the steady rise and fall of his chest. They make notes of one another, recording each and every little thing the other does before their time turns into bittersweet memory.
—-
Five hesitated. He taps on the payphone with uncertainty, doubting if he should dial her number and ask for the favour. He promised himself that he would not let her come near his family madness, but the marigold was melting his blood vessels and none of his siblings look like they’re ready for a real fight. Whatever this dry cleaner’s daughter kidnapping was about has certainly gone a notch more serious than it ever was.
He weighs his options. The only thing he could make out of her were the pleasant times they’ve spent. The laughter and the stolen glances they would exchange when nobody was around. The sun has always shone on top of them, no rain nor shade to ever taint their story. It feels as if they’ve been living in a fairytale despite all the secrecy he hides from her.
But Ben’s tails were stubborn and Lila’s laser eyesight was not boosting his confidence enough to follow through with this rescue mission. His family might have gotten their powers back, but it was an overstatement to say that the team was officially back on. Their bodies were still trying to readjust themselves with the liquid gold, whatever it might mean now.
The bitterness in his tongue sets thicker as his decision comes to a final. For some reason believing that calling her would compromise the charming affair they have. Not from the squabbles his family might show, but from other perils he couldn’t foresee.
“Hello?” She answers right on the second ring “Who is this?”
Five’s words were caught in his throat, unable to continue his action.
“Hello?”
“It’s me,” He finally says. 
“Five? Is everything okay?” She questions, worry evident in her tone as she proceeds to speak in whisper “I know we promised not to talk during work hours, but I heard that you’re taking a sick leave and now you’re calling and I just— I’m worried.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” He answers, his tone heavy with regret “I’m fine. I’m just— Look, there’s something I need to tell you,” There was a pause, clearly still debating if he should end the call and just face whatever’s to come alone with his family.
“Five? Are you there?”
He nods, his voice strained with anxiety, “Yeah, I just— I’m going to Maine. There’s something I need to do there with my family.”
“Oh, okay. Will you be back soon?”
“No, I.. I don’t know,” He answers in surrender “Listen, I know I’m asking too much of you but.. Could you meet me there? In New Grumpson?”
A few seconds of silence, her confusion thick in her voice, “You.. Want me to come to your family gathering?”
“Well, it’s not really a gathering,” Five struggles to explain, running a hand through his hair “It’s more of a.. Rescue mission? I can’t explain the details through the phone, there isn’t enough time.”
“I can’t just drop things off and drive to Maine, Five. I’m in the middle of a case,” She reasoned.
“I know, but I need you to come. I need you to help me,” He begs, his heart beating fast inside of his chest as if it could already see the disaster this phone call would bring “I promise to tell you everything. I’ll explain everything—about my family, about myself, about Dolores, about us. I’ll tell you everything. I just— I need to do it in person. Please.. Please come and meet me there.”
There was still silence from the other side of the phone.
“I promise to let you in,” He continues, his voice faltering in despair “I’ll tell you what you want to hear. What I needed to tell you a long time ago.”
Silence hung heavy in the air. Beads of sweat were breaking in the back of his neck, afraid that he’s just lost everything before it even started. There was no going back now. Not even with the power that he’s just gotten back.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, fuck it,” She answers, having zero sense of hesitation left in her voice “But you better tell me right after I get there.”
“I will, I promise.” Five bites his grin, taking a deep breath of relief before he finally says the magic words “I love you. And I promise to say it again when we meet.”
—-
She has to admit, driving countless hours down to New Grumpson with little to no context, might not have been one of her brightest moments. She should’ve asked more about the plan, where to meet and what time, before hanging up and picking her car keys. God knows how she would meet Five now. Who’s to tell just how big this town is or if he’s even in the city yet. She was blind. Completely lost in a random town thousands of miles from home.
Between finding some covers for the windows that Victor broke and frequent bathroom breaks, the Hargreeves siblings could only reach their destination when the sun was already at its peak. Not to mention the bickering that they have to resolve every other ten minutes. The eight of them are certainly behind schedule but without any means of communication, there was no way for her to know his whereabouts.
Now sitting in a diner, she wonders just how long she should wait before leaving this town. There’s something eerie about this place. The people were kind, sure, but she couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched. Like these people were not just civilians but someone placed to fill certain roles to make up the city folks.
She watches as a man enters the diner. He was kicked out the first time by the diner’s owner, but supposed the kind lady could see that this stranger was in need of a shelter. He looks like a tourist, too. A little lost and too peaky to be a local.
And that’s when she heard it, the first gunshot outside. She reaches for her own gun, hiding it under the table as she tries to assess her surroundings. The people in the diner now corner the strange man and the diner lady, commanding the woman to come with them with their guns pointed out.
Good God, what is this place? She thought as she cocks her gun.
Just as the two people ran out through the back door, another shot was fired and it was enough reason for her to take the small mob down from behind. Whatever their reasoning is, the people of this town are certainly not the friendliest to tourists.
She runs outside, trying to help the other three people that were being gunned down by a bunch of the town folks. She watches as the biggest man shields the other two. An act that shouldn’t be logically possible.
She tries to help out, shooting the crazy goon with her own gun. It was a no match with the numbers of these lunatics and their AKs compared to her handgun, but it was enough to give a window for the three people to run further away.
One down, another ten appears. The people in this town just so happen to be complete terrorists who shoot on weaponless people, she reckons.
Out of the blue, Five blinks to the road and joins in the shield of the big man. It took her a couple of seconds to believe the sight she just saw— Five appearing out of thin air and hiding under the protection of the big guy who’s bearing all the gunshots fired at them. None of this was making any sense. Not the city, not the people, not the events she’s witnessing. But she didn’t have time for questions, not yet. Her finger pulls on the trigger nonstop, refilling her magazine as soon as she can before more madmen come.
But her hands weren’t fast enough. There was not enough time for her to raise her gun. To point and pull another shot before a couple bullets were aimed at her chest. She was hit. Too many times for her to count as she fell limp to the cold concrete, gasping for air.
“No!” She could hear Five’s echoing scream. In a blink of an eye, he was kneeling by her, lifting her body to be in his embrace. His hand was shaky, trying his best to give some pressure to the holes in her chest as his other arm pulled her close, “I’m here, I’m here.”
No words came out of her lips. Breathing hurts as blood starts to come out of her mouth. Colour was draining from her face, skin turning cold as her ear rings.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Five apologises, his tears flowing down to her face “This wasn’t supposed to happen, I’m sorry.”
“S-Say it,” She whispers, gasping “You promised.”
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” He confesses, cupping her cheek with his bloodied hand “I’m sorry. I love you. I love you so much, I’m so sorry.”
The light in her eyes slowly dims out. Her laboured breathing quiets down as the interval widens before it eventually stops. Her hand that was holding his wrist fell gently, no longer having any care that the shreds of mirror were creating new cuts to it.
“I’m sorry. I love you. I’m so sorry.”
Those three sentences were flowing out of him like a broken record. Five holds her close, planting tear stained kisses to her cheeks as if it would give her another breath of life. He calls for her name like a prayer, begging for her to look at him just once more, but the magnetism that would always fill those orbs were gone. They were staring into the empty space without a blink. Gone were the eyes that would stare into him with so much love and tenderness.
Five looks up to see his siblings. They were looking down with pitiful, sorry eyes. Never had they ever seen the collected brother be this broken, drowning in the anguish of a lost lover.
“It was Dad,” Luther says bearing the bad news “They were all Hargreeves goons.”
Another tear escaped his eyes. Five’s sobs were getting louder, whispering his apologies to her now deaf ears. He was sorry about everything. About asking her to come, about promising to tell her some complete nonsense, about falling in love with her. Even with his powers, Five was utterly helpless. He couldn’t undo what was done— save the life that he’s lost and keep her away from harm. The one thing that matters most to him has finally been ripped off of his hands.
There was a sense of resentment brewing in his heart. He thought that he could not be any more hollow than he already is, but now that she’s dead in his arms, now that the better half of him has disappeared, Five has ultimately become that one broken shell of a man he once thought he was.
If only she was his little girl, he would’ve run away and hide with her.
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