#and led to them figuring out who he really is

[bisexualbrainrots]

I've been thinking about these two, and like, it intrigues me how the weight of their experiences and some core elements (most likely) added to the breakup.

Like, just from canon alone I see that Tommy carries some weight on his shoulders from the person he used to be and his journey regarding his sexuality. He did hurt others by engaging in bigoted behavior in the past (and changed, which is good!). He probably spent at least a decade in the closet, figuring who he was and suffered from a comphet that made him almost marry a woman. Plus he's been out for less than 10 years and (possibly) didn't feel comfortable enough with himself until he got a clean slate. And he probably didn't have support when he came out, but that's a headcanon. I think this made him project that onto Buck, even if he didn't mean to.

And Buck's journey is nothing like Tommy's (from what we've seen).

Buck definitely carries wounds regarding his self-worth, he is somebody who thinks he's both too much and not enough. He didn't grow up in a supportive household, and the only person who did support him left. His sexual awakening, from what we saw, was a very different experience than what he's used too. He had people with him, he was immediately supported and told it didn't change how others saw him. The weight of his sexuality looks to be light, there seems to be barely any struggle, unlike Tommy. And I think it made Buck underestimate how bad it probably was for Tommy before.

Adding to that, there are also other elements to them that led to this mess.

Buck is impulsive, acts without thinking and doesn't grasp the consequences of his actions until they blow up on his face. And Tommy seems to act on self-preservation, he guards himself from danger and pain and acts on it. And it plays against them.

I think Buck's self-worth issues hit hard when he learned about the engagement, but not for that in itself.

I remember he actually looked intrigued when Tommy said he almost married a woman, and it wasn't until he knew it was Abby that he was put off and spiraled (side note: I hate the way they decided to canonize the Abby theory). It was that idea that if Tommy hurt someone Buck loved, then who's to say he wouldn't do the same to him, someone's who's "too much"?

I also think Buck's impulsivity set off Tommy's self-preservation alarms. Add that the (possible) projection he put onto him and it's no wonder Tommy ran, because, if he has hurt people before then who's to say Evan wouldn't do the same one day? If Evan's pace is fast then who's to say the relationship won't be too?

It's just, ughh there's so many layers I could peel off from this but it's also very much a stretch in my head.

Anyways, thanks for reading this? I don't know if it made any sense but hey, it doesn't really need to.

[wandering-pirate]

When the moon fades, the stars guide

Part 1

Part two of "How does a moon lose its shine?"

Summary: When the chaos went down, what led up to it? And what will happen next in the dark, metal casements of the Tulpar?

Pairing: Father figure! Swansea x reader

a/n: ask and you shall receive~ thanks for y'all's patience!!

Trigger warning: Depictions of sexual abuse and violence. There are no explicit scenes of the rape itself but the trauma and experience of y/n is very much described. Please take care of yourselves while reading <3<3

Day of Departure

The Tulpar’s engines hummed steadily, a sound you came to think of as the freighter’s heartbeat. Three years on this ship, and it started to feel like a second skin at this point. But still, every haul gives you that faint, familiar buzz of excitement, like the thrill of stepping into something bigger than yourself. Responsibility.

You leaned against the inventory console, triple-checking your clipboard. Rows of numbers and codes blurred together, but the satisfaction of seeing everything in order made the strain worth it.

"So, you’re the famous Y/N," a voice chirped behind you.

You turned to find Daisuke, the new mechanic intern that Curly told the crew about. He looked barely out of his teens, his uniform covered with a bright yellow hawaian-patterned shirt that he somehow managed to smuggle and had a grin a little too wide. Newbie's buzz, you thought.

"And you’re the new grease monkey," you teased, extending a hand.

"Mechanic-in-training," he corrected, shaking your hand with exaggerated seriousness. "Big difference."

Swansea scoffed from the other side of the utility room, tinkering away with a coolant valve. "Big talk for a kid who just learned what a carburetor is."

"I thought it was a coffee maker for cars," Daisuke mumbled to you, pouting.

Biting back a laugh, you shot Swansea a grin that practically dared him to roll his eyes. He didn’t disappoint.

Jimmy entered the room, clipboard in hand. His presence had always been grounding, his confidence infectious. He nodded at you as he passed. "Inventory’s in good hands, as usual."

"As if you’d trust anyone else," you replied, your tone light but your chest warming at the compliment. He smirked, tapping the clipboard.

The ship’s intercom crackled to life. "Alright, folks," Curly’s voice boomed. "Buckle up, we're launching at five."

Your hand froze on the console. No matter how many times you’d done this, the Tulpar's jump during the launch always lit something in you. The co-pilot once commented how you're like a puppy with a treat dangling in front of you.

As a kid, you’d been obsessed with the idea of outer space. Not in a “memorizing star charts” kind of way, but in a way where you just admired them every night that you gazed at the night sky.

Whenever you see pictures of galaxies, stars, or any heavenly body, it was like looking at something familiar, something that made sense to you. The outer space wasn’t just an escape; it was home.

Anya appeared at your side, her medical bag slung over one shoulder. She flashed a small smile, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Let me guess," she said, her voice relaxed. "Gonna watch the Earth fade away again, huh?"

"Every. Damn. Time." You nudged her playfully, earning a laugh.

"Swansea's really rubbing on you with those words."

When the Tulpar lurched, you gripped the edge of the console, your gaze already flicking toward the viewport. For a moment, the universe stretched out in every direction, infinite and vast. You couldn’t help the grin on your face.

Out here, it all felt right. The stars, the ship, the crew… they all came together in a way that felt as natural as breathing. For now, at least, you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

One Month After the Crash

When you thought things were about to get better the night you broke down, helpless, at the lounge... you were desperately wrong. Somehow, the man who betrayed you, the monster you treated as a friend, a mentor—hell, even family—claimed Curly's title and is set loose.

And now? You were cowering at the corner of the utility room, covering your ears as the voices outside grew louder with every passing minute. Funny how one voice made you gag and the other made you feel secure.

“Come on, Swansea. I told you, I’m not gonna hurt Y/N, alrig—”

“If you’ve got a death wish,” Swansea’s voice, low and bristling, cut through the tension. “Keep yappin’.”

It had been a month. A month of watching your back. A month of slipping between rooms, dodging Jimmy’s shadow, a sick game you were forced to play with him. But it was also a month of being under the mechanic’s wing, always having him or Daisuke by your side when checking inventories, because almost facing your deaths just days ago wasn’t enough reason to stop your job. Or being in the locked medbay with Anya when both your guards were busy.

“Look, I just wanna make things right,” Jimmy said, his tone too smooth, too practiced. “Curly’s out of commission, and now, as captain, it’s my job to take responsibility for what I’ve done.”

For a second, your stomach twisted at the pause. Would Swansea actually believe him? Could he? You strained to hear the older man’s reply, then there it was.

It started weak, the soft wheezing sounds went through the metal wall. It grew louder, rougher, until it was a full-blown, bitter laugh that rattled the air. Guilt filled your chest—why would you even ever doubt him after all he's done?

"What a fuckin' joke. Know what? If yer that desperate to play captain, wanna tell me how the ol' Tulpar really crashed?"

Silence. Not even a breath from Jimmy. Then, heavy, angry stomps faded down the hall.

For a solid ten minutes, you stayed frozen, your pulse loud in your ears. The air in the utility room felt thick, clinging to your skin. Then the door hissed open.

“That roach’s got some nerve,” Swansea muttered, stepping inside. His face was carved with exhaustion, but his sharp eyes softened when he met yours. He offered a tired smile, and you returned it, grateful.

"You shouldn’t be out here," Swansea grumbled, his eyes scanning the corridor as he steered you back toward the medbay.

"I’m fine." You tried evading him, but given his bouncer-like body, he placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Sure, and I’m the swan princess from that pink doll kid's show."

The Tulpar floated through infinite space, a shell of its former self. It wasn’t one of those massive freighters like the newer ones Pony Express had, but a running old freighter is infinitely better than a broken old freighter. Supplies were low, tensions were high, and the Tulpar's once-familiar corridors felt more like a prison than home.

When the asteroid hit, or so Jimmy claimed, Curly had supposedly saved everyone by making a split-second turn to minimize the impact. It was a story that gave the crew a shred of hope, something to hold on to.

But cracks already started to form in Jimmy’s tale. The damage didn’t match the trajectory of any known asteroid paths. The ship’s logs were corrupted, erasing any evidence of what really happened.

It wasn't farfetched to believe that Jimmy didn't stay put at his quarters when the crash happened.

Swansea has his suspicions. So did you. But neither of you said it out loud. The truth was a dangerous thing aboard the Tulpar now, fragile and very explosive, just waiting for the right moment to destroy whatever was left.

"Kid," Swansea’s voice broke through your thoughts. You hummed, "Don’t go doin’ that thing where you stare off into space like a lost puppy."

You managed a weak smile. "Can’t help it. Space is kinda my thing."

He snorted, but his eye-roll was absent. He didn’t let you go until he was sure you were back in the medbay, under Anya’s watchful eye and the door's lock.

2 Months before the Crash

Jimmy’s compliments had always felt harmless. You were used to his jokes, his easy smiles, and the way he called you "kid". It was comforting, in a way - until recently.

"Nice shirt," he said one day, leaning casually against the inventory shelves as you logged spare parts into the system.

You glanced down at your standard-issue disgustingly yellow t-shirt, streaked with dust and grease from helping Swansea earlier. "Uh, thanks? Didn’t know grease-stained chic was trending."

He laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "You pull it off, though."

You gave him a half-smile, feeling like the co-pilot has something more to say than he's letting on. His tone felt... heavier. You chalked it up to overthinking and turned back to your work. Jimmy was your friend, someone you’d always trusted.

But somehow, the comments became more frequent, more pointed. A hand on your shoulder lingered too long. Always looking at you when he laughs.

The next time it happened, you were helping the mechanic in the engine room. You crouched next to him, handing over tools as he muttered under his breath about "cheap replacement parts." The rhythmic clank of the wrench echoed in the space while Daisuke watched because the last time he helped replace something, he had to receive 3 stitches from Anya.

"Careful not to scratch the paint off," you teased, smirking.

Swansea snorted, rolling his eyes. "Look who's talkin', Ms. 'I-can-make-any room-look-like-a-fukin' junkyard' with all the shit you leave laying around."

"Ha! Boss' got you there Y/N!" You poked your tongue out at the intern.

Swansea gave you a sideways glance, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You wanna talk about paint? Maybe start by remembering where you put all yer inventory sheets before I have to staple ‘em to yer forehead."

You laughed, wiping your hands on your coveralls, when Jimmy walked in. His gaze lingered too long as he leaned against the doorway.

"Got the inventory finished?" he asked, his voice casual.

"Mostly," you said. "Swansea needed a hand, so I figured I’d multitask."

Jimmy’s eyes narrowed briefly, just a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place. His smile returned, too quick to feel natural. "You’re a real team player, kid."

Swansea grunted in agreement, not looking up. "She’s handy, I’ll give her that. Saved me a headache with these damn filters."

"Hey! I'm here, to--"

"Tell me what happened to yer forehead with just a screwdriver, boy." That seemed to silence Daisuke up.

Jimmy’s jaw tightened, his hand gripping the edge of the doorframe, though he quickly masked it with a chuckle. "Better not let her show you up, old man."

"Not a chance," Swansea shot back, oblivious to the tension.

But you felt it. The way Jimmy’s smile didn’t match his eyes, the way his presence filled the room like static. Something about it was off. You wanted to brush it aside, but the feeling lingered.

Later, in the lounge, Curly tossed you a cup of coffee. "Heard you’ve been pulling double duty with the inventory and the utility. You gunning for my job or what?"

You smirked, shaking your head. "Dream bigger, Curly. I’m aiming for Swansea’s."

Curly laughed, but his attention shifted behind you for a moment. You glanced over your shoulder to see Jimmy standing in the doorway again, watching. His posture was casual, but his knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the counter.

When you turned back, Curly raised an eyebrow. "Jimmy’s been hovering a lot lately. You notice that?"

You shrugged, trying to sound casual. "He’s probably just bored."

But deep down, you weren’t so sure. You sipped your coffee, forcing a laugh. "One more compliment from him? I’m charging him rent."

Curly chuckled, but his smile faded slightly as he glanced at Jimmy again. "You should tell him that. See what he says."

You smiled weakly, staring into your coffee as the unease settled in your chest.

One Month Before the Crash

Jimmy’s words echoed in your ears, wrapping around your thoughts like a noose.

"I don’t want to hurt you," he said, his voice trembling, his breath uneven. "But I can’t stop thinking about you."

You remembered the way his hands shook, how his eyes flitted between you and the walls, never meeting yours. He looked like he wanted to convince himself as much as you. But it wasn’t the shaking or his words that lingered in your mind, it was the suffocating fear, the way the air in the room thickened, pressing down on your chest until you couldn’t breathe.

You fought back, kicked, punched, scratched, used everything in your disposal, but it wasn't enough.

In that moment, the world felt unrecognizable. The Jimmy you looked up to, trusted, and even laughed with, was gone. Or maybe he had never been real.

And you felt something within you... break.

You didn’t cry. Not then. The betrayal was too sharp, cutting through your chest like shards of glass. You couldn’t feel anything but the raw, jagged edges of shock and pain. It was never-ending, it was unforgiving.

Later, when it was over and the room was silent again, you sat on the floor, knees pulled to your chest, staring at the dull metal wall. The memories replayed in your head, over and over, a loop you couldn’t escape.

"Why didn’t I stop him?"

"Why didn’t I fight harder?"

"Why didn’t I say something?"

The questions bit you, each one sinking its sharp fangs deeper into your guilt, into your body, mind, and soul.

Jimmy’s voice broke through the haze of your thoughts. You remembered how he sat across from you, his voice low and soft, as though he were the one wounded.

"I didn’t mean for it to go like this," he’d said, his tone almost pleading. "You don’t have to hate me, you know? I care about you. I just… I just couldn’t hold it in anymore."

Each word sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through you. The confusion was unbearable. Was he sorry? Or was this another lie? Another betrayal? It didn’t matter. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him or yourself anymore.

And from that night on, everything you loved about your life on the ship, the crew, the stars outside your window, even your own reflection, felt like it died.

You went through the days like a ghost. Your laughter was gone, replaced by silence. Meals went untouched. The inventory, your pride and responsibility, piled up unchecked.

The crew noticed. How Swansea’s gruff teasing didn’t make you laugh anymore. How Daisuke’s bad jokes only entered your ear and exited the other. And every time Jimmy walked into the room, your body froze, your skin crawling as though his gaze alone could trap you again.

Anya, however, never pried. She saw through the silence, the robotic movements, the emptiness in your eyes.

One evening, she's nursing you. You sat on the cot, staring at the floor, your hands limp in your lap. You passed out from hunger earlier and Dasiuke had to carry you to the medbay, sweating and frantically assuring himself more than anyone through panicked mumbles.

She approached quietly, a tray of tea and biscuits in hand. "Y/N," she said softly, placing the tray beside you.

You didn’t respond.

Anya pulled up a chair and sat down across from you, her gaze steady. "You have to eat."

"I’m not hungry," you murmured, your voice flat.

She didn’t push. Instead, she reached out, her hand resting gently on your arm. Her warmth cut through the cold numbness you’d wrapped yourself in.

"You know, it’s okay to feel like this," she said quietly. Her tone wasn’t pitying, just kind. "But you don’t have to do it alone."

You didn’t react. You couldn’t. Her words were like waves breaking against a stone, unable to reach its core.

Anya stayed with you anyway. She talked softly, about nothing in particular, old stories, small jokes, telling you how Daisuke stole Swansea's snacks and having to say I'm sorry for a hundred times as punishment. She didn’t expect you to respond. She was simply there, filling the silence with her presence.

Even when you retreated deeper into yourself, Anya never gave up. She left food by your workstation, tidied your quarters when you weren’t looking, and covered for you when Curly asked too many questions.

One night, as Anya walked you back to your quarters, she stopped just outside your door. Her voice, usually gentle, held a weight you hadn’t heard before.

"Y/N," she began carefully, "I’ve been where you are."

Your steps faltered. The numbness you carried didn’t lift, but her words sent a faint ripple through the sea of numbess. You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, your hand tightening on the doorknob.

"I know what Jimmy did to you," she continued softly.

The air in the hallway felt suddenly heavy. Anya hesitated, then added, "It happened to me too. Weeks ago."

The words were like a thunderclap in your mind, sharp and deafening. You turned to her, your eyes wide with disbelief.

"You knew?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, raw and cracking. Anya went through the same thing yet here she is, stronger than you, caring for you. Your stomach churned in guilt. "You—why didn’t you tell anyone? Tell me?"

Anya’s expression didn’t falter, but her shoulders tensed as though she’d been bracing for this. "I told Curly," she admitted, her voice quiet but steady. "But… nothing changed."

Nothing changed.

The words hit like a sledgehammer, shattering the fragile threads of hope you’d been clinging to. Your chest tightened as anger and despair fought for control.

"You told him," you whispered, the words trembling with a pain that reached far deeper than you’d let anyone see.

Anya didn’t look away. She didn’t try to explain or justify it. "I thought it would help," she said, her tone even. "I thought it would stop."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, sharp and hollow. "And now it’s my turn, right? Cap kept quiet and hoped it wouldn’t happen again?"

"Y/N--"

"Now what, Anya?" You snapped, your voice rising despite the lump in your throat. "What was the point of telling him if it didn’t change anything? He was supposed to be the captain, he was supposed to protect his crew. And no it didn’t stop tha--"

Your words broke off as your breath hitched. The weight of it all, Jimmy’s betrayal, Curly’s silence, Anya’s quiet endurance, crashed down on you like a tidal wave.

Anya reached out, her hand brushing against your arm, but you pulled away.

"I can’t—" you choked out, shaking your head as tears blurred your vision. "Sorry Anya, can I be alone for a moment? Please, don't look for me."

The hallway felt too small, the air too thick. You stumbled back, your legs moving on instinct as you fled toward the lounge, where the empty silence swallowed you whole.

This was where it all unravelled like a predator ripping meats of its prey piece by agonizing piece.

The knife in your trembling hand, the memories replaying in your mind, the feeling of the world collapsing around you, all of it led back to this moment. To the truth you could no longer ignore.

The one person you thought could protect you knows - and he did nothing.

Two Months After the Crash

The cargo bay was dimly lit, the faint hum of the ship's remaining systems filling the silence.

Jimmy had been relentless over the past week, pestering Swansea to let him talk to you about the cargo. Why? Well unlike any other facilities of the freighter that's unlocked by codes visible through the Captain's flashlight, the cargo bay can only be unlocked by a code held by two crewmembers - the captain and inventory officer. Obviously, with Curly laying helpless in the medbay, Jimmy only had one person left to disturb. And the man grabbed the opportunity to talk to you again.

Exhausted, that’s what you were. Tired of Jimmy's persistence, of how he kept shifting from casual then cutting sharper the next. And all these bugging went straight to Swansea. As much as you didn’t want to give the bastard the satisfaction, you knew there was no way around it - you gave in, but not for Jimmy. You did it for the mechanic.

“Are you sure about this?” Swansea asked earlier, his voice low but heavy. The lines on his face deepened as he watched you wrestle with the decision.

You nodded, though your stomach twisted at the thought. “Jimmy’s not going to stop bugging you about it, and you’ve got enough on your plate. I’ll deal with him.”

The mechanic grumbled something under his breath, shaking his head. “I don’t like it. You shouldn’t have to deal with him at all.”

“I know,” you’d said softly. “But he’s not going to stop. And… I’ll have you and Daisuke with me. It’ll be fine.”

Swansea did not looked convinced, but he eventually relented, only after you promised he could stay nearby, just in case.

Now, standing in front of the cargo bay's doors with Jimmy pacing in front of you, you were keenly aware of Swansea’s presence by the door. A silent guard, his watchful eyes never leaving the co-pilot. Daisuke was at your side, arms crossed and radiating quiet protectiveness, like a little brother who didn’t care how big a fight he might have to pick if it meant keeping you safe.

Jimmy, oblivious or indifferent to the tension, took a step forward, his movements quick but not careless. “Y/N, I know you’ve been keeping tabs on the cargo. But it’s been two months. We need to know what’s in there. It could help us—”

“It won’t,” you interrupted, your voice steady but firm. “I’ve told you before, Jimmy. It’s nothing important. We'll just waste our time."

Jimmy’s jaw tightened. “Leave that up to me to decide whether what's in there is important or not."

Swansea cursed under his breath and your lips pressed in a thin line, but the man's gaze didn’t waver.

Daisuke took a step forward. “She’s not wrong. Y/N wouldn’t hide anything if it could help. She knows what she’s doing, Jimmy.”

Jimmy scoffed. “I’m just saying—if there’s even a chance, we should check. We’re running out of options here.”

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “Fine,” you said, exasperated. “You want to see it so badly? Go ahead. Open it. But when you'll find out I’m right, I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

Daisuke frowned but didn’t say anything, glancing at you like he wanted to intervene but knew better than to push. Instead, he stepped closer to your side, his quiet presence grounding you.

Jimmy’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as though he’d won some kind of victory. “Thanks, the code?” he muttered, moving toward the cargo bay doors. Swansea was already there, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, his sharp gaze locked on Jimmy.

“She said yes,” Jimmy said defensively as he approached, but Swansea didn’t move.

“She shouldn’t have to,” Swansea muttered under his breath, stepping aside only when you gave him a small nod.

"4517" The pad beeped with each number you tell him. The entrance hissed open, like a dragon waking up from its deep slumber.

The cargo bay was dim, the rows of hundreds of boxes towered over all of you. You followed Jimmy inside, Daisuke sticking close to you while Swansea lingered by the door.

The co-pilot walked straight to the nearest box, his movements quick and eager. “Let’s see what’s so ‘unimportant,’” he muttered.

As the box was pried open, the sharp, clinical smell hit instantly.

Mouthwash.

Jimmy froze, staring down at the neatly packed bottles as if they might suddenly transform into something else. Daisuke peered over his shoulder, his eyebrows raising. “Huh. Well, that’s… useful,” he said.

Jimmy’s face burned as he looked back at you. “This is it? You’re telling me this is all we’ve been hauling?”

“I told you. Nothing important. But you couldn’t take my word for it, could you? You know what's funny, Jimmy?" You balled your hands on your sides, "I should be the one not trusting you, after what you've done."

Jimmy stood there, eyes narrowing and jaw clenched. For a moment, it looked like he was gearing up to argue. But it was all so painfully obvious, the desperation in his stance. He wanted to paint himself as the victim, again, to make excuses, again, as if he wasn’t already a pathetic excuse for a man.

You glanced at the box, the sight of the neatly labeled bottles almost comical in its absurdity, mocking the co-pilot. Then your eyes landed at him, his confidence snapping under the weight of his proud insistence.

“Satisfied now?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the tension like a knife. Without waiting for an answer, you turned your back. “This is your answer, Jimmy...”

For the first time since the crash, you felt something crack open inside you, not fear, not guilt, but anger. Controlled, righteous anger.

"We don’t survive by hunches or waiting for some fucking miracle," you spat. "We survive because people are actually out here making sure the Tulpar doesn’t fall apart."

Your eyes met Swansea's, then to the ground.

"Everyone pitches in, does what needs to be done, no matter how much of a death trap the job is. But if you’re too busy playing pretend captain while the rest of us are holding it all together, maybe it’s better that you step back and let the people who actually know how to keep this mess running do their thing."

You didn't wait for a response, not even tried to gauge his emotion. You left the cargo bay, going into the only place that gave you comfort, utility room.

Swansea appeared in the doorway. Before he could speak, before you could even gather your thoughts, you found yourself moving toward him. The words caught in your throat, but your legs carried you anyway, and in one swift motion, you collided with him in a tight hug. The kind you hadn’t realized you needed until the warmth of his body pressed against you.

“Thanks for everything," You paused, and before you could stop it, the words slipped out. "...dad."

For a moment, everything went still. The hum of the damaged Tulpar only filling the air, and for one fleeting second, you feared you said too much. That you crossed a line, said something you didn’t have the right to say.

But then, without a word, his arms wrapped around you, solid and sure, holding you like he was never going to let go. The tension in your chest slowly released and a stray tear rolled down your cheek.

“Always, kid.” His voice was low, thick with meaning, and at that moment, it held everything you needed to hear.

[tiyawnyana]

Thank you for the request!!! @all-seeingeye so sorry it took so long but I really wanted to capture some angst and soft comfort with what I envision with Viktor and his dynamics with people

A/N: brrrr it's finally like fall out where I'm at, so cold and so windy

Characters: Viktor x Male (or gender neutral) character

Warnings: hurt, comfort, slight angst, illness, character death

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Golden

Growing up, you were more of the scrawnier kid in your family. It wasn't for a lack of food- no, you had plenty. You ate plenty, always provided for by your professor parents.

It just seemed to be what your body was like. Your parents fussed, grandparents even moreso, over your tiny frame but ultimately they realized you were fine. Healthy. Just small.

As you grew, you still remained lanky and small, but it was more so lean, less defined muscle.

You had first met Viktor as he was introduced to the academy of engineering by Counselor Heimerdinger. You had stopped by, bringing food for your parents who were learning they would be teaching the first Zaunite transfer student- you were stunned. Viktor was incredibly kind, his voice smooth but features sharp, soothed by the warm honey glow of his eyes.

He extended his hand, the olive branch to you, and you were so easily entwined in his branches.

You decided to pursue more engineering classes, suddenly interested as Viktor had a way with words that made this whole new world seemingly filled with light and promise.

You appreciated his kindness- you had struggled with making friends that could understand your way of thinking or talking, often residing by the walls in favor of staying out of the spotlight.

He was kind. He was patient. You were entangled.

You devoted yourself to creations, wishing to make a difference down in the Undercity but projects needed funding, something that was scorned upon despite the picture perfect model citizen of the Undercity- Viktor, who worked on said projects with you in hopes for them to take flight and actually help the undercity.

There was a breakthrough- Suddenly, the promise of scientific engineered magic spreading across the city, led by Jayce Talis.

He, too, was a kind man. He cared deeply for Viktor who saved his life. You often found yourself thinking that the man from the undercity did the same for you as well.

As Hextech grew and blossomed, you took notice of Viktor getting ill. He was closer with you, you'd like to think, enough that he would link his arm with yours down vacant halls as you both discussed new project ideas in the late nights. Those were the times that you realized just how badly this illness was affecting him.

You took up working out, building up your arm strength over time.

You wanted him to lean on you as much as needed, figuratively and literally. He was everything- he brought light to your stale world, you wanted to provide that same light and kindness.

He returned from his check up with the physician with a slight wobble in his step, one that he couldn't mask as easily.

You walk beside him, side eyeing his form with a never ending worry.

“You're staring,” he murmurs, side eyeing you back.

“Sorry-” you sigh,”Just- What did the physician say?” You stop in the hallway and he stops as well. People walk past, nodding your way with no regard to the genius before you.

Viktor sighs, leaning wholly on his cane,”Same thing as always,” but he averts his gaze.

You notice, of course you do,”which is?”

He huffs in annoyance, but it's never directed at you,”My leg is getting worse- just as everything else is. They think they'll find a breakthrough soon,” he shrugs,”But you and I both know that's not the case.”

“Don't say that,” you murmur, reaching a hand out to hold his bicep,”I hold hope that they will, they have to-”

He shakes his head,”You're always too hopeful,” then looks back at you in silence for a brief moment,”Let's go back to the labs. I'd rather spend my time there anyway.”

You nod with a soft, albeit worried smile, then follow in his stride, almost hovering if he ends up needing help.

Weeks roll on, new breakthroughs with Viktor and Jayce have a buzz going through the halls.

“-this formula doesn't make sense though, look-” Jayce shows you the notebook clasped in his hands,”In theory- it'd work just fine, but when I've applied it to the gauntlet, it doesn't work-”

You open your mouth to respond but it's not you who speaks.

“What of the gemstone?” Viktor responds from across the room, engrossed with his own creation.

“That is.. not entirely ready yet,” Jayce scratches the back of his neck.

“Then we can finalize it,” Viktor turns to look your way,”It only needs a few more tests and final notes, correct?”

“Yes, that's correct,” Jayce confirms.

“Viktor and I can get that done, then-” you nod his way,”You have that banquet, right? With the Counsel and their buyers?”

Jayce huffs at the mere mention,”Yes, but I don't see why it's important.”

“Counselor Medarda seems to think it could help fund some of our future projects,” you speak with a knowing smirk, looking over to Viktor who rolls his eyes.

Jayce becomes slightly sheepish, stammering over himself as he tries to brush it off,”Well- uh, my time is more valuable here, in the labs-”

“You are the golden boy, the face of Hextech, Jayce,” you pat his shoulder,”Go, get the support and funds for the projects, we can handle this here.”

He huffs in annoyance but nods,”I'll be back in the morning, then- if anything happens, though-”

“Tell you immediately,” you and Viktor say at the same time. You throw a knowing smirk his way before shooing Jayce out of the lab.

You walk over to Viktor, midway through writing formulas down. You hover, gazing down at the runes and the new design for his hex claw.

“The new design is nice,” you murmur.

“Thank you,” he speaks softly, before putting down his pencil and turning around in the chair,”we should get started on the gemstone.”

“Not before dinner,” you shake your head, standing up straight and crossing the room to the lunch bags your mother bad insisted you take,”My mother made more of that cuisine- the one with the radishes?”

Viktor looked annoyed at the thought of having to eat but ultimately nods, relenting as you place the food down before him with a soff,’Thank you.’

You eat in silence, leaning back against the desk. After a mouthful, you mumble,”What even are the gauntlets for?” As you usher over to the semi finished project across the room.

Viktor finishes chewing, side eyeing the project,”Jayce says it can help the people that are mining, making a three day job into a 3 hour job.”

He shrugs. You hum at his answer.

“You think they can be used down in the undercities mines, then? Once the air is cleared, of course.”

Viktor is silent for a moment, seemingly thinking it over,”One can only hope.” Then he's silently finishing his food.

After finishing dinner, you stand poised in the center of the lab with a mallet.

Viktor tinkered with the gemstone, finalizing it and stands across the room with goggles on. You stand there, waiting for his mark, with a welders mask strapped to your face.

His hand raises, and you bring your hand down, a loud noise filling the room as the mallet connects with the gemstone. What looks like electricity shoots around the room fizzles out, but the residual shock of it sends Viktor collapsing. You're dropping the mallet just as quick, unstrapping the mask from your face and quickly helping him up.

His face is strained as he carefully sits in the chair you bring him to and he reaches down to rub at his leg, the brace wrapped firm around his muscle.

“The reaction is getting to be less.. violent, at least,” he murmurs through a wince.

“Yes, uh,” but you're not focused on the gemstone, moreso at the fact that his hand won't stop shaking. You grasp his hand in yours,”I think we should stop here.”

His gaze snaps to yours, taking in the furrow in your brow and the worry laced into your eyes,”No- no, let's continue.”

“Viktor, please,” you urge carefully, not wanting to come off as commanding nor pitiful.

“No, I'm fine, just-”

He's interrupted by a coughing fit, and you're quickly moving to grab him water. He takes it quickly, cooling his throat.

He huffs for a minute, confused as he rubs over his chest carefully.

After that minute, he tries to stand, but his knees wobble beneath him and he almost buckles over only for you to catch him with an arm around his waist.

“Yeah, we're done for the night,” you speaks firmly and for once, he doesn't argue as you help him out of the lab.

After locking up behind you, he's leaning against the wall with his eyes shut, taking in soft breaths.

“I should bring you to the physician,” you speak carefully.

He looks at you, momentarily silent before nodding quietly.

You loop your arm with his and you're thankful that he leans on you now but halfway across the building, he begins to cough again, bending at the waist and nearly hacking up a lung.

“Ok, c'mon,” you manage to say after he's calmed, taking his cane and carefully lifting him into your arms. He grips at your shoulder, eyes wide in shock.

“I don't want your pity-” he rasps.

“Viktor,” you mumble, looking at him with sincerity,”You'll never have pity from me, only care.”

He huffs but slumps in your hold, legs dangling over your arm and leaning into your chest as you carry him to the physician.

The door cracks open carefully, the soft creak of wood waking you with a slight startle.

Jayce peeks his head in and you're confused before taking in the early morning rays of sun shining in through the blinds.

He carefully shuts the door behind him and you sit up in the chair you'd dragged closer to the bed Viktor remains asleep on, an iv drip hooked in his arm.

“The physician told me it was a cold?” Jayce murmurs softly as he crosses the room.

You softly clear your throat,”Yeah- I guess, honestly..” you trail off, gazing over at your friend,”I think it's worse than that- but I don't want to jinx it.”

He nods quietly,”I'm trying to figure out something to help him, his leg-”

You nod too,”Been trying to do that for years, too, it seems.”

There's a slight lull, a silence filling the room but not an entirely uncomfortable one.

It's broken when Viktor breathes in shakily, his eyes cracking open blearily.

You focus your attention on him, and Jayce is quick to go get the doctor. Your hand clasps over Viktors, soothing him with a soft, kind smile as he finally relaxes.

Honey golden eyes peer back at you framed by tired eyes and thick, brown lashes.

You grow familiar with his weight- carrying him to the physician due to his health plummeting.

It seems that the first time- it was a cold, but rapidly grew into something in the lungs. It's remained in him the last few months and you remain glued to his side, ensuring his well being.

You lose sleep or have half assed sleep in that little chair by the bed, hand entangled with his. Like a lifeline.

You don't know that he wakes up in the middle of those nights, looking over at you with the same worry and concern, tightening his hand around yours.

One night, Jayce was busy at a concert with the Counselors.

You were crossing the building, bringing food with promises to meet Viktor in the labs that night due to being busy with your parents throughout the day. You had waved to Sky, the new assistant to Viktor, brought on to the team a few months back. A kind, sweet young lady with bright eyes and even brighter dreams- she was going to the lab as well and would be there before you.

Opening the door to the lab, you're greeted with a sob of what sounds to be pain. You drop the food, uncaring if it spills as you rush in, the sight of Viktor collapsed to the ground a staggering one.

You don't hesitate, rushing over and carefully lifting him in your arms, confused at the fine powder surrounding him but paying it no mind.

“Viktor- Viktor, I'm here, I'm bringing you to the physician-”

He passes out in your hold, slumping against your chest.

Your hand is entangled with his, fingers laced together as you muffle the sobs into your fist.

Viktor remains asleep, iv hooked into his arm with a relieving relaxed look on his features.

The door cracks open early in the morning, Jayce quickly but quietly slipping through. He looks exhausted but at the same time like he actually slept. His hair is a mess, eyes rimmed red and he inhales sharply over the sight of you, eyes red and shiny with tears.

You sit up, sniffling softly and wiping your nose with a tissue but never letting go of Viktors hand.

“They told me,” he murmurs, crossing the room and dragging the other chair over to sit beside you.

You nod, that ball in your throat burning. You're quiet for a moment before rasping,”I got into engineering because of him- for him.”

Jayce nods,”All I've wanted to do was help him.”

You wipe your eyes, a soft headache brewing but you remain uncaring to it.

“Our inventions- our creations, we were supposed to make something-”

“The hexcore-” Jayce interrupts,”If we finalize it, we can-”

You shake your head,”Jayce- he said to destroy it.”

“What?” He rasps.

You nod in disbelief, watery eyes meeting his,”He wants us to destroy it- said something about it growing too dangerous.”

“That's just because it's not safe guarded yet,” Jayce tries to reason.

“No- this wasn't a matter of finalizing it,” you look back over at Viktors resting face,”He was frantic. Scared, even.. insisted about its destruction.”

Jayce is quiet otherwise, a soft sigh of defeat filling the room.

You grew familiar with holding his weight in your arms. You gained more muscle over time, but not realizing that he was losing himself- bit by bit, every cough seemingly taking part of himself away.

The building shook with the explosion. You took off, realizing it came from the northernmost part of the building, the counselors chamber. You had walked Jayce and Viktor up there before departing.

You nearly slam into the wall trying to avoid a frantic Jayce, heart seizing into your throat upon the sight of a broken Viktor in his arms.

He looked small in Jayces hold.

You run right behind Jayce, tears stinging your eyes and quickly unlock the door to the lab for him as he carefully places your friend down on the table.

Your fingers press to his throat, trying to find a pulse and a wrecked sob tears from your own at the realization that you can't find it.

You wipe the dust and dirt from his face, urging him to wake up. To greet you with his kind, honey golden eyes and to scold you for pitying him. You allow the tears to flow, sobs coming freely now when the sound of metal clacking followed an almost mechanical whir echoes in the room.

You raise your head, looking to Jayce as he walks closer, clasped onto the hexcore with metal tongs and ignoring your frantic yell before the room erupts into a blue, sending you into the wall with a resounding thud.

The last thing you see is Viktor enveloped by a bright light, his skeleton faintly visible and realizing his spine had broken.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—A/N: thank you again :))))

[lovemyromance]

hi! happy holidays :) I've read ACOTAR last month & I was surprised to see this shipwar is so brutual. I don't get effected by spoilers when i read so I saw so many tiktoks, & just based on all the edits, I throught Gwyn & Azriel were a couple. Then I'm alsmost about to finish ACOSF, and there's still no Gwyn&Azriel? I commented on a tiktok of Gwynriel like did i miss something? And this lady (super condescending) was like yes! his BC. I say I read it. She asked me DID I READ THE 2ND HALF?

PT 2 of ask: hi same anon from gwynriel tiktoks! pt 2 - I tell this lady um yeah who stops halfway through a BC? then she tells me if i had read TOG and CC, it shows Gwyn & Azriel are mates. granted, i haven't read those yet. But I asked my bestie (sjm fanatic) if this happened in HOFAS? Bc i know ab the crossover. She looks at me like i'm crazy. I go back to this gwynriel on tiktok and explicitly ask like "where does it say Gwyn and Azriel are a couple or mates" and she tells me "oh it's foreshadowing" SmH

I'm sorry this Gwynriel literally asked you if you read the second half of the bonus chapter ?? LOOOOL that's so funny. They think anyone who doesn't understand where gwynriel comes from just steadfast is an elriel or hates gwyn. When most casual readers literally have no clue what they're talking about either.

Idk why they think SJM was only speaking to them when she was leaving these so called "Gwynriel crumbs and foreshadowing" like?? They are so condescending, acting like only they are capable of picking up on "subtle hints" like first of all....

SJM ain't subtle. She is cheesy and cliche and a firm believer in love and happily ever after. Nothing she has ever written has surprised me. Not once. She does have good plots and intricate world building, but when it comes to her couples, they are predictable because of how she sets the story up.

When I read TOG did I know Aelin was going to end up with Rowan? No. But I had a pretty good idea once Rowan was introduced that OH I see where she's going with this because SJM did plenty of buildup, she didn't just write Aelin skipping from Dorian to Chaol to Rowan in 3 pages in a bonus chapter.

When I read CC, I knew immediately that Bryce and Hunt were endgame. I did think Hypaxia and Ruhn were gonna be a thing, but by book 2 when they introduced Lydia, I knew Night/Day would prevail. Wasn't surprising to me in the slightest.

When I read ACOTAR, I thought Tamlin was the one - until we were introduced to Rhys. Immediately after their first meeting, I knew he would be endgame,

It's not hard to grasp. SJM is again, not subtle with it.

Gwynriels are always barking at people like they think they're prophets of SJM or something because they strung together 3 different "clues" from 16 different books. They always cite SJMs other romance switchups, forgetting the fact that we know endgames basically as soon as a character has been introduced.

Gwyn HAS already been introduced. And yet, nothing. No chemistry no conversations no interactions that are even borderline romantic with Azriel. This is while they ignore the straight up in your face Elriel scenes that are happening btw.

It's always "there is foreshadowing" while ignoring the black and white text stating a different thing on the page. Do they not understand elriel have tons of foreshadowing too? It's just why would we cite that when we have actual romantic moments?

Just another day,another reader led astray by the fandom lmao. You don't need to take a magnifying glass and go Sherlock Holmes on acotar to figure out the next couple. Unfortunately, that's the only way people claim Gwynriel exists, so they have developed this "I'm just a better reader" attitude when really it's like are you actually OUR LORD AND SAVIOR SJMS chosen one, or are you just dreaming?

[1heartfanfics]

Carlos has PTSD after 4x04 part 2.

~spoilers~

"Dude," Nancy said, reaching over to nudge T.K. as she pulled the ambulance into the bay of the station.

"Huh?" T.K. asked, looking up from his phone. "What?" he asked when Nancy didn't say anything. She finished parking and then nodded her toward something. Confused, T.K. looked over to where she was gesturing.

"Shit," he muttered, realizing what she'd been trying to tell him.

Carlos was sitting at the table in the stations dining area. What was he doing here?

Despite insisting that T.K. go back to work, he knew that Carlos struggled while he was gone. Especially after dark. Most nights T.K. would come home to find Carlos anxiously pacing the apartment or bouncing his legs nervously at the kitchen counter, unshed tears welling in his eyes.

But Carlos barely went anywhere these days, even with T.K. Aside from his weekly therapy sessions and the occasional walk around the block with T.K. he just stayed at the apartment. He certainly hadn't driven himself anywhere since everything happened.

"Is that Carlos?" Tommy asked, poking her head up from the back of the rig as Nancy finished parking.

"Yes," Nancy answered when T.K. didn't say anything. His thoughts were racing, trying to think of what might have happened that was bad enough for Carlos to come here.

"Is everything okay?" Tommy glanced back and forth between T.K. and Nancy, trying to figure out what was going on.

T.K. hadn't really told anyone how bad things were. Carlos hadn't wanted people to know. Nancy was the only one who had some idea, because she was the person T.K. worked most closely with, and she'd always been able to tell when T.K. was lying.

"I don't know..." Nancy trailed off, both of them watching as T.K. hopped down out of the rig, heading quickly over to Carlos.

Judd was sitting at the table opposite Carlos, while his Dad leaned back against the counter. They both looked over at T.K. as he approached, their faces asking 'what's going on?'.

Carlos was staring down at his hands in his lap, one leg bouncing quickly. But T.K. knew that wasn't what they were concerned about. He knew they were looking at the dark circles under Carlos's eyes and how gaunt his face looked from the weight he'd lost, unable to eat much most days.

"Hey Carlos, your boy's here," Judd said, as T.K. got close.

Carlos's head snapped up, turning to look at T.K. as he walked toward the table. He fumbled over himself to scoot the chair back and stand.

"T.K.?" Carlos's voice shook, and T.K. knew he was close to tears.

"Baby," T.K. said softly, reaching out toward Carlos as he closed the distance between them.

As T.K. grabbed Carlos's shoulder to pull him into a hug Carlos let out a sob. He immediately pressed himself against T.K., arms circling tightly around his back, face pressed into his shoulder.

"Okay, okay. I've got you baby," T.K. murmured in Carlos's ear, keeping one arm wrapped tightly around Carlos's waist while the other hand moved to tangle in Carlos's curls, something that always helped calm him down.

Judd and Owen were both watching, looking at T.K. with confusion and concern written on their faces. 'Is he okay?' Owen mouthed. T.K. just shook his head. He'd have to explain later.

"C'mon love, let's go upstairs," T.K. said, pulling Carlos away from him slightly. He kept one arm wrapped around his waist, leading him through the kitchen and up the stairs to their bunks with a hand on his hip.

When they stepped into the bunkroom, Marjan, Paul, and Mateo all looked up from where they'd been chatting on Marjan's bunk. Their expression quickly changed from excited to worried when they saw Carlos pressed against T.K.'s side, crying into his shoulder.

Marjan opened her mouth to say something, but quickly stopped when T.K. gave a quick shake of his head. Then he silently led Carlos over to his bunk, helping him sit down at the edge of the bed.

Hushed voices came from the other side of the bunkroom as T.K.'s colleagues spoke. Carlos jumped, eyes going wide as he looked around the room.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, just look at me alright? Eyes on me," T.K. said, crouching down in front of Carlos and taking both hands in his.

Out of the corner of his eye, T.K. saw the three firefighters leaving the bunkroom. Mateo caught his eye for just a second as he pulled the door shut behind them. T.K. wondered what Nancy had told him, because unlike everyone else he seemed to have a look of understanding.

"Breathe baby, you're safe here," T.K. said, turning his full attention back to Carlos. He took in a slow, deep breath, modeling for Carlos to follow.

"Hey there," T.K. said once Carlos had taken a few good slow breaths. He moved from his crouched position in front of Carlos to sit next to him on the bed.

"I-I'm sorry, for coming here, I just-" Carlos started shakily.

"Baby don't. You are always welcome here," T.K. cut him off, reaching over to cup Carlos's cheek in his hand, turning his face toward him. "Always," he said again, ducking his head to meet Carlos's eyes.

"I just needed to see you," Carlos whispered, tears starting to spill down his cheeks again.

"I'm right here," T.K. said. He took Carlos's face in both of his hands, swiping the tears away with his thumbs as they fell. Carlos leaned forward to press his forehead to T.K.'s.

They stayed that way for a few minutes, until T.K. pulled away. He silently maneuvered them so T.K. was leaned back against the wall behind his bunk with Carlos curled up against his chest.

The bunkroom door opened, and his Dad peaked his head in. Thankfully Carlos didn't notice, but T.K. shook his head. Silently asking his Dad not to come in. Owen nodded in understanding, but he lingered in the doorway. T.K. gave a small shrug and a wince. They'd talk later. For now he just needed to take care of Carlos.

[stxrfclls]

he'd  been  such  a  constant  in  her  life  that  desmera  had  struggled  without  him.  it  was  pathetic  in  her  mind,  the  man  had  done  nothing  but  push  her  through  hell  and  drag  her  back  out  each  time  she  slipped.  he'd  been  hard  on  her,  harsher  than  she'd  witnessed  any  other  training  pairs.  but  when  he  left  and  her  skills  began  to  slip  without  the  constant  presence  of  his  pushing,  desmera  began  to  understand  the  illyrian  far  more.  she  still  refused  to  admit  it,  to  him  or  to  herself  fully.  in  the  end,  he'd  helped  her  become  the  high  lady  she  was  today,  and  the  soft  spot  she  had  for  the  warrior  despite  how  he  treated  her  had  shifted  from  a  simple  crush  to  something  far  deeper.  she  was  just  too  afraid  to  figure  out  where  it  led.

dimly,  the  high  lady  wishes  she'd  worn  something  other  than  a  dress.  she  was  rusty  in  her  skills,  and  knew  of  all  the  people  in  her  life  it  was  vyros,  and  vyros  alone,  who  could  bring  it  back  out  of  her.  lailah  had  been  an  incredible  sparring  partner,  someone  desmera  relied  on  for  far  more  than  her  position  on  the  inner  circle,  but  she  didn't  possess  the  depths  of  history  that  vyros  and  des  did.  when  the  pair  of  them  fought  together,  sparred  or  otherwise,  it  was  a  symphony  of  movements  and  metal  clashes.  few  people  she  trusted  to  spar  with  her  actual  weapons  of  choice,  but  vyros  was  built  to  withstand  it.  she  didn't  hold  back,  he  didn't  either.  it  was  a  match  that  she  couldn't  help  but  wonder  –  was  it  predestined  or  created  ?

the  confidence  in  her  abilities,  the  kind  words  and  comfort,  it  hits  differently  in  desmera's  chest.  she's  used  to  a  different  tone  from  him,  and  even  if  his  voice  holds  a  similar  edge,  it's  different  now.  what  had  he  endured  in  his  time  away  from  winter  ?  vyros  felt  similar  in  so  many  ways,  but  there  was  an  edge  of  something  different  there  that  the  high  lady  filed  away  with  the  category  of  things  she  couldn't  –  wouldn't  –  think  about  right  now.  with  all  the  things  she  had  on  her  shoulders  it  was  easy  to  ignore  the  things  she  knew  she  shouldn't.  vyros  was  such  an  enigma  in  her  mind  that  she  pretended  she  didn't  understand,  for  now  she  could  continue  that  game  despite  the  gnawing  in  her  heart  screaming  otherwise.

"  and  i  am  a  product  of  the  people  in  my  life.  "  she  says  stubbornly.  desmera  was  not  the  most  ridiculous  and  hard  headed  girl,  not  anymore,  but  she  refused  to  yield  now.  vyros  brought  out  that  particular  habit  of  hers,  and  she  also  refused  to  let  him  neglect  his  help  in  her  growth.  "  the  winter  court  is  everything  to  me.  the  people,  my  family,  each  snowflake…  for  a  time  i  questioned  my  ability  to  be  a  high  lady,  to  be  what  the  court  deserved,  but  i  don't  often  anymore.  "  she  admits.  it's  odd,  a  strange  feeling  pushing  her  to  be  honest  despite  her  utter  urge  not  to  allow  him  to  see  her  cracks  and  weaknesses.  a  soft  smile  slips  on  her  lips  at  his  words,  "  i  know  you  will,  but  some  things  are  impossible  to  save  me  from,  vyros.  "  she  had  to  handle  certain  things  on  her  own,  had  to  face  the  other  high  rulers  who  she  felt  looked  down  upon  her.  she  had  no  proof  of  it  really,  just  whispers  she  felt  overwhelm  her  at  every  turn.

a  nod  comes  from  the  high  lady,  she  has  worried  about  someone  figuring  it  all  out  and  using  the  knowledge  as  leverage.  her  only  hope  was  that  they  could  find  a  reason  to  see  that  working  together  was  the  best  way  to  all  get  home.  "  hopefully  it  is  our  scholar  who  gets  their  first,  or  the  dusk  fae  who  tire  of  our  presence.  "  it's  all  she  can  really  do,  hope.  desmera  hates  it,  and  the  anger  brings  out  and  old  tick  she'd  managed  to  quell  long  ago.  the  high  lady  begins  to  fidget  with  her  hands.  vyros's  plea  only  makes  it  worse.

her  eyes  catch  the  movement  on  his  face,  and  she  wishes  she'd  actually  seen  him  smile.  des  imagined  it  was  a  beautiful  sight.  "  selfish  ?  i  hope  you  deign  to  tell  me  what  that  entailed  at  some  point,  general.  "  it'd  certainly  take  her  mind  off  of  everything  else,  not  that  the  list  was  long…  it  was.  his  words  settle  in  her  heart,  though,  but  she  can't  linger  on  that  feeling  now.  "  you  shall  always  have  a  place  with  me.  "  the  magnitude  of  which  she  was  not  yet  ready  to  admit.

𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔦𝔱 𝔰𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔤𝔬 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔢𝔱 𝔥𝔢𝔯 — on that wintry training pitch? the crystalline snow had caught on the ends of her lashes, and he had found her just as beautiful then, just as headstrong and statuesque. a storm on the horizon he longed to open his arms & wingspan to receive & endure. she had brought a fierceness, a fury, a determination that matched his own. while her air had disarmed him in that first meeting, vyros had come to know her by the sharp and defensive strike of her twin blades against his greatsword, the icy glint in her eyes that so starkly contrasted the fire in her spirit, the velvet dark of her skin.

despite vyros being her mentor, she had been his teacher in many ways. from her, he had learned his place as a warrior and mentor, how to compartmentalize his emotions, to put duty before selfish wants and desires. his longing for her had always been there, somewhere beneath the verglas, but if he had not set it aside and challenged her, would he have succeeded in effectively training her? 

his eyes darken at her words, not because he doesn’t hear the echo of kindness in them, but because he knows in his heart she was destined to be great, and the part he played in her life was small, in the grand scheme; to think she needed him to blossom into the high ruler she was today was a discredit to her character and ability. her rise as the winter court’s ruler was inevitable, not because of the people that flocked to her like waves to the shore, but because of her gravitas, her power, her presence.

so he kept his gloves on, transforming all of that yearn for her into harsh critique and even more punishing practice. tender emotion metamorphized to leveling blows. forbidden touches to demanding barks. unrequited ache to perfect form. perhaps he had done something for her in denying himself so much, and that was the only reason he was here now — at the edge of a precipice he couldn't brave, the bank of a river he wouldn't allow himself to cross. he would stand at the edge of the fire and feel its sting gladly if it meant she was protected, that he lived his life in the service of that endeavor. that was all that was permitted to a warrior, after all. and a gift that he should love, however quietly, who and what he would give his life for.

❝ no matter. you would be who are today whatever the obstacles you faced, whatever shadows flanked you. you can have all of the support in the world, but it comes down to you, desmera. ❞ there it is, that mentor's steel. ❝ and you will not forsake your court, your duty, your birthright. you have my respect and my fealty for that ... among other reasons. ❞ and she would always, even if she turned her back on it all. ❝ i know the mantle is heavy, the shifting a burden on you. i will do whatever's in my power to protect you from that weight. ❞ his eyes are on her now, careful not to drop to her full lips as she speaks. ❝ it's my fear whoever uncovers the truth of it will not share it willingly, will hoard that knowledge for their own gain and not share it for faekind as a whole. it would be too easy a thing for one of prythian's courts to leverage that knowledge for more power. ❞ ochre eyes drift skyward and he lets out a sigh. ❝ mother help us. ❞

there's a twitch at the corner of his lips at her words, a smile that won't bloom, but lives somewhere beneath all those glacial layers, only for her. ❝ i left for selfish reasons, ❞ he admits. ❝ but you know that. and i know myself now, know my directive, my purpose. i belong at your side. ❞

[thenevarranaccord]

Goddamn Andraste's knickers, I am a mage in Tevinter.

I just ran smack into an Imperial Templar and he politely turned and walked the other way.

[tea-cat-arts]

I simply think this fandom doesn't give Wei Wuxian enough credit for the various ways in which he saved Lan Wangji

[al-luviec]

still haven't moved on from zane in this episode (aka I hit tag limit again and am unhappy about it)

[featherymainffins]

I think it's a hatecrime against me that there aren't any slugs as big as the giant African snail. Why do the snails get to have all the fun I just want a giant slime noodle.

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 5: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

The winning option of yesterday's poll was that the adventurer should choose a suspicious egg as his gift ….

"He carefully plucks the egg from the gift pile, wrapping it in spare fabric and tucking it away inside a small wooden box within his backpack for safety. Not really wanting to stick around and get accidentally pulled into scary underground tunnels or something, he shakily bids the Well Creature farewell, and continues on through the forest, just following whatever he can find that looks vaguely like a path.. He makes an occasional stop to pick up a cool rock, harvest berries, or let the cat play in the grass, but mostly just wanders aimlessly, lost in daydreams and contemplations of how his New Fun Life Of Spontaneous Adventure is going so far......

Eventually, the forest tapers off into a more open area of land, hosting what seems like a humble little village. By this point, it's nearly nightfall, which reminds him that he's actually quite afraid of the dark, so he scrambles about town for a moment until finally finding the local Inn. After nervously stumbling inside, he rents the cheapest room available, then sits alone, snacking on some free leftover food scraps and plain water. It's been a tiring day, but in the spirit of becoming an adventurer and pushing himself to have as many experiences as possible, he figures he could hang around downstairs a little longer, perhaps get one more thing done before bed -- What should he do?"

[hedge-rambles]

Y'know, this really kinda works because I was thinking along the lines of a sort of...religious function? Like, at yes, Honourables are vital to the spiritual wellbeing of society and the household, somehow???

And it might be tough to reconcile a patriarchal religious structure which was a kinda important part of the development of Victorian ideals, with it being run by non-binary individuals. Which, yeah I don't have a solid answer for that currently, but it would lead neatly into the idea established above though.

A lot of local administration and record keeping in Europe before that era was the purview of the church. They recorded marriages, births and deaths for example. And they also made up the vast majority of the literate and educated class for hundreds of years. Many early academics of all bents were, first and foremost, clergy. Early universities were religious institutions first, evolving from church and monastic schools.

So it kinda makes sense for it to move from a more spiritual (but still administrative and advisory) role to academia, admin and advise.

I don’t think adding nonbinary to Victorian’s gender system would’ve fixed their weird sexism. If anything I think it would’ve made them weirder and sexismier

[nezuscribe]

it's that same summer when you're at the gojo summer estate, the one near the sea. you're still teens, long before gojo became arranged!gojo.

your last encounter with gojo was something you brushed off. but gojo couldn't stop thinking about you. you were this puzzle he didn't know how to figure out. this war map that no matter how long he looked at it, none of his past strategies were making sense.

but the two of you go about your usual routine. he's with his friends, and you stick to yourself.

or at least you tried to.

gojo's mother, the lady of the gojo family, was an earnest and strict woman. everybody knew that she wasn't one for games or jokes. she rarely smiled and rarely, rarely, laughed. you, along with all the other kids, knew to bow extra low whenever greeting her. she seemed to carry more power than her husband, but she didn't seem to find an issue with that.

but for a woman who was so keen on tradition, she seemed to care about you a lot more than the other children.

when she spoke to you, her eyes softened. her voice was gentler, more caring. your sisters especially grew annoyed at this, trying to butter up to her even more, but she seemed to harbor this sort of kindness only towards you.

you didn't question this either. it must be some form of pity, but you appreciated it nonetheless. sometimes you pretended like she was your actual mom, but then you quickly shook that thought away, chiding yourself for thinking something so childish.

this sort of gentleness she had with you turned into her trying to include you in things. some days it would be having tea with you when the other adults were having tea somewhere else, or sometimes she'd plan a little dinner with you where you could get dressed up and act like a lady.

tonight, however, she seemed to think that the best way she could include you was to include you in the group of the other kids, a gentle and guiding hand on your protesting back.

"really, i like the library," you insist, but it couldn't be farther from the truth. you had been inside the library for so many hours that you could blink and those high walls filled with books would be seared into your vision.

"nonsense," she tells you, her blue eyes and white hair looking down at your form as she waves it off, "the kids are outside near the fire. they'd be delighted to have you."

you cringe a little bit, wondering if she was just as daft as her son.

but she had found you near the fireplace, trying to stick its warmth as you hunched over yet another book. she decided that enough was enough, you should be out with the other kids.

so you couldn't say much to the woman who was hosting your family to argue, letting her lead you outside the grand patio and into the overbearing fields that led out to the sea, you soon saw the fire crackling away, the sound of laughter filling your ears.

some of the kids who were facing the two of you nudged the other ones to turn around, looks of confusion on their faces as the noblest lady of the land led a quivering you closer to them.

the usual look of caring she had whenever she was with you melted away, turning to something icy as the two of you neared the group. her hand on your back was still present, but you wished that it could somehow push you deep into the ground where you could hide forever.

her eyes looked over the group until they fell on her son, gojo, and narrowed.

everybody's eyes bounced from you over to her.

"there should be room for one more, yes?" she asks, and all the kids quickly nod, moving over on the logs that they had created into makeshift seats as they scrambled to make space for you.

you wondered what it was like to command such respect from people, what it must be like to have people actually listen to you.

she nudges you forward a little bit and you glance up at her one more time, a sort of useless plea as she encourages you to sit down.

you take a deep breath, offering them all an apologetic smile as you slowly sit on a log, your legs cramming together to make yourself seem as small as possible.

you watched as she walked back through the patio, talking to a maid as she motioned over to your group, saying something you couldn't make out, and you looked back to the other kids, the ones you had barely spoken a couple words to, and wince.

"sorry," you say slowly, your hands fidgeting non-stop in your lap as you laugh awkwardly, wishing you could just drop dead.

you can see your sisters seething in the corner, rolling their eyes as they sneer. the other kids nod at you just as tensely, and you wonder how disrespectful it would be if you just went back inside.

you feel a pair of eyes searing in the side of your face, and you look slightly to your right to see gojo staring at you, his eyes slightly squinting, just as his mother did.

you swallow thickly, picking at your nails as you send him a small smile before looking back down at your lap.

you could still feel him looking at you, but you chose to ignore it.

gojo doesn't really know why his mother liked you so much, but he never truly questioned her. she treated you with a tenderness he never saw her treat anybody (aside from him) with. he sometimes saw the two of you sharing tea with each other, other times hearing her laugh whenever you cracked a joke. something unusual for both of you.

his eyes look at your face, taking in the way you duck your head to seem smaller than you are. your eyes avert any contact, teeth gnawing on your already chewed-up lips. gojo looks at your hands, at the way you pick at your nails. he looks at your dress and sees the way the seams are fraying, the initial shape of the dress looking a little bit unfitting on you. almost as if it wasn't made for you specifically. his eyes narrow in more as he pieces it together. the dress is a hand-me-down from your older sister. not because your family couldn't afford a new dress, of course not, but to remind you of your place.

he feels a sting in his chest.

slowly the conversation with the group goes back to usual, the other kids pretending that you weren't there. gojo could feel the arms of one of the girls latched around his, her body pressing into his side as she tried to get closer to him. he wanted to shove her away, but didn't want to make a scene right now.

one of the girl shifted the talk to the topic of couples, talking about how she saw this husband and wife in town the other day who seemed to actually like each other.

one of your sisters, mei, snorts, shaking her head at the idea.

"us girls either marry an old man or a slightly older one," her eyes look over to you, "there's no in-between."

everybody grimaces at that, her other sister, yume, shoving her shoulder roughly at the crude statement.

"what?" mei scoffs, sitting back up as she nudges her chin to you, "she is."

yume gives her a warning look, one that's clearly saying she's saying too much, but mei doesn't seem to care much. everybody stirs, their heads craning with the thrill of gossip.

gojo looks at you and wants to see what you think about all this, but you're so far in your own world that you don't notice the commotion that seems to be directed at you.

mei calls your name, trying to grab your attention, and your head shoots up, brows furrowed to see who needs you.

"right?" she asks, knowing you don't know the answer.

you look around again, wondering if she was just trying to be funny.

"what?" you ask finally.

"you have to marry someone older, yeah?" mei presses, her eyes gleaming as your confusion melts away into one of embarrassment, looking at yume to see if mei was really serious.

of your two sisters, mei was always the mischievous one, if you could even call her cruelty that.

gojo sits up slightly, his brows scrunching up together a little bit at the mention of this. nobody had heard of any marriage offers, especially this early. you were still underage. who...?

you scratch at your neck, heat rising to your cheeks at the sudden attention on you.

"it was just an offer," you say through clenched teeth, shooting mei a look as she just smiles smugly. she knew she'd never have to deal with this.

"who?" one of the guys asks.

"nobody," you say quickly, waving it off as you rub a hand over your face, wondering if you threw yourself on the fire if that would help.

"naoya!" mei says instantly, your eyes widening as she reveals this very secret thing that even your father was trying to keep hushed away. you feel your stomach drop, eyes stinging in embarrassment as gasps echo around the group.

"isn't he...?" one of the girls tries to do the math, seeing how much older he already is.

"i heard he wants children," another girl adds, giving you a look of attempted sympathy but it just looks like a wince, "like, a lot of children."

you shut your eyes, rubbing at your aching forehead. you look briefly at gojo, only to see him looking incredulously at you. he's the only one who doesn't seem to be talking in a shocked or excited tone.

everybody gets excited about a terrible marriage offer when it's not them who have to offer themselves up.

he's studying you, seeming to be the only one who sees the way your chest is heaving, as if you're struggling to breathe. or the glossy look in your eyes, the way you dart them away so nobody can see. gojo looks over at mei, at the way she looks satisfied for delivering her piece of gossip for the night,

at your expense.

he doesn't know why he feels the way he does, or why he drags the girls arm away from him as he stands up, shrugging his coat over his frame as everybody suddenly looks at him.

but he's only looking at you.

"i forgot to give you your blanket from last week." he says simply, his voice heavy and coarse, as if he hadn't used it in a while, "come with me,"

well, he never said he was good at lying.

but he puts a steady arm on your shoulder, helping you stand up as you shoot him a confused look, letting him lead you away as the silence behind you becomes defeating.

you wipe at your nose, sniffling silently as he leads you through the grassy field.

he glances down at you. this is the second time the two of you have been alone, and the first time he's ever seen you on the verge of tears.

"thank you," you murmur thickly, rubbing at your eyes with your palms as you laugh wetly, "she wasn't supposed to say..." you trail off, looking away from him in embarrassment.

gojo guides you up the porch, behind a long marble pillar where the two of you are away from the other's curious stares.

he's never been good at comforting people, but he's never wanted to more than now.

"she's right, though," you say through a stutter, arms crossing at your chest as if that's what gojo was thinking about, "naoya, he-" you can't finish the sentence, the reality of it too heavy for you.

naoya proposed a month ago. a marriage offer for when you turn of age. he was desperate to find a wife, but not too many women were desperate to make him their husband. but your father needed the alliance, and your father's wife needed you away, so they swiftly agreed to it.

gojo's hand still hasn't left your shoulder, and he gives it a small squeeze.

"i'm sorry about this," you motion to yourself, laughing humorleslsy, "i didn't mean to...gods, i just...i don't want to be his w-wife," you admit quietly, shaking your head as you hide your face in your hands, "i-i don't want to have his children."

gojo feels bile rise to his throat at the thought of that.

he's only seen you twice. why does he care so much about what happens to you?

"somebody else will come along," he says in a whisper, and you look at him through your fingers, dropping them to your side as you blink slowly, rubbing at your cheeks.

"no good man wants to marry me," you tell him quietly, without any trace of pity for yourself, something that was simply the truth, "if not naoya, then another variant of him."

gojo leans down slightly to level with you, his lips pressed into a thin line.

you don't know why he's so close, or why he looks more worried for you than anybody else has. you shrug him off of you, trying to collect yourself as you peer through one of the large windows that look inside the estate.

"you can get rid of that blanket," you mutter, eyes darting from the window to his stunning blue ones, ones that make your knees slightly weak, "i was going to knit a new one anyways."

you bid your farewells, nodding lowly at him as you find your way inside.

gojo watches your back, looking back at the group as he runs a hand through his hair, gripping at his white locks in frustration.

he doesn't know what he's feeling. he doesn't know why he wants naoya suddenly dead. he doesn't know why he's not going to listen to what you just asked him to do, or why he wants to hold onto that blanket.

gojo doesn't know why you suddenly infiltrate his every waking moment, or why he needs to see naoya buried alive just so that you wouldn't have to marry him.

he doesn't know the answer to any of these things. but he doesn't know if he wants to.

[erinwantstowrite]

Halloween AU!!!

hey so. i put SOOOOO much effort into this au and for what? at least it ended up looking cool? anyways Halloween is my favorite holiday and i just HAD to make something for them!

i had a LOT of ideas for what everyone would be, but i really wanted to stick to a certain theme cause it's based around Halloween. i knew i had to have a vampire, werewolf, and a witch. cause like... obviously. iconic Halloween stuff!! but i took some liberties with everyone else and i think they turned out pretty cool!!

Jason was originally a fox shifter (which i still love and might draw art for some day) but i went with a bear in the end. is that because i thought about tiny bear cub Jaybin and wanted to cry? yeah. yeah it is. i KNEW Steph was going to be my werewolf though i started doubting myself when i went to draw her. turned out to be my favorite drawing on here which makes sense cause she is my light my love my daughter my will to live and all that jazz

Tim was actually gonna be a harpy but thank god i didn't go for that in the end. Duke was the one that was a bitch and a half trying to figure out BUT!! comments on the post asking what y'all thought led me towards Psychic so THANK YOUUUU everybody that commented!! (specifically those who thought of ghost!! Duke and Tim ended up being a perfect duo in this au)

Babs was pretty easy to figure out what I wanted for her. I read somewhere that they are seen as protectors of forests/ are considered spiritual authority figures and also.... she looks cool as fuck. Did not expect how easy it was to find a ref for a deer in a wheelchair though? I can never find the right hand or face angle reference but that was super easy???

For Bruce there was literally no question he HAD to be human. it's literally so funny that everyone who knows Batman thinks he's a spooky vampire but he's human. his first son, however?????? THAT'S the vampire. I knew Dick had to be a vampire too. A little nod towards that one comic run but in my au nothing bad happens ever 🥰 Damian also being a bat shifter is very on purpose because how funny is it that he's a bat man. Literally not a single person in the League thinks that Bruce is telling the truth about being human. Bruce you are NOT beating the secretly a vampire allegations.

adding in Jay's hilarious joke it's so fucking funny:

Alfred is actually a demon. I CAN NOT remember who made this post so if someone can help me find it, it would be appreciated!! because this was inspired by them!!! but somewhere i saw someone talk about Alfred being a demon that Thomas and Martha made a deal with (i think it was for an au idea?) and I just HAD to put it here. Alfred looks so human and everyone expects it, but he's definitely not. I put the ??? because it's so fucking funny. see if you can spot the 1 hint i put on his drawing that something is amiss!!

Peter is from an alternate dimension still, but it is not a world of creatures like him, it's just the same as LoF canon except Peter grew some extra limbs and eyes. He finds that it's actually pretty easy to fit in with the Waynes. Hard to feel like a freak when a guy can turn into a fucking bear, or your dad is a vampire, and the teenagers in the family are trying to summon ghosts or make potions.

additional doodles for this au:

i am still debating whether i am going to draw something for this au or write a oneshot, but i DO want to do something with these for Halloween

[rafesheaven]

the annual christmas sorority date auction༉ೀ

warnings — frat!rafe, sorority!reader, date auction (for charity), rafe being competitive, jealous rafe, oral (m. receiving), praising, tit sucking, nipple biting (for like 2 seconds), spanking, sex in lingerie, unprotected sex, creampie wc — 1.7k a/n — merry christmas + happy new years !! got the date auction idea from the movie, white chicks + ib @rafeyscurtainbangs concept in her kinkmas fic ‘holidate’

“not that i’m against the purpose of it, but do you have to be in this year’s event?” rafe huffed, looking around at the stage setup . “i would skip it if i could, but they think having all of us in the event will benefit the fundraiser,” you sigh. “yeah…well, these guys willing to bid to win a date with a girl is a bit pathetic, it’s stupid,” your boyfriend grumbled, making you raise a brow.

“oh is it? you didn’t seem to think it was stupid last year when you bid on getting a date with me. you know…the same date that led to us dating.” rafe knew you were right, but that didn’t mean he liked the idea, “i know, but i don’t want to even think about how many of the guys from the other fraternities will try to bid on getting a date with you.”

“guess you’ll have to outbid them, huh?” you tease. he rolled his eyes, muttering something along the lines of, “i shouldn’t have to bid just to go on a date with my girl,” under his breath. “that’s too bad, i was hoping to give you one of your christmas presents early if you win the bid,” your fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck. “yeah? and what would that be?” rafe grinned as you plucked his hat off his head, turning it around and placing it backward on his head.

“there’s only one way for you to find out,” you whipped your head around at the sound of your sorority sisters calling your name. “it’s about to start. i have to go before london rips my head off for not being ready,” you gave him a rushed kiss on the cheek, your gloss sticking to his skin, before heading towards the stage to get in position.

as the event started, rafe became antsy, waiting for your turn as your sorority sisters appeared on stage individually. members of fraternities bidding against one another in hopes of landing a date with any of the girls had him on the edge of his seat.

he fidgeted in his seat when london announced your name, his jaw clenching at the sound of the men hollering when you stepped out onto the center of the stage. you gave rafe a playful wink while london introduced your name and interests to the crowd of fraternity brothers before the bidding started.

he figured no one would try to place a bid, knowing you were his. but rafe couldn’t be more wrong when he heard “$100”. he sat up in his seat, snapping his head toward the direction of the voice. “you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he scoffed, he glared, his eyes landing on chad, a member of his rival fraternity, who had his typical, stupid smug look on his face.

“$200,” rafe called out, and it didn’t take long for the two to start calling out numbers, trying to outbid the other. you nervously shifted in place, your eyes darted back and forth between rafe and chad, anxiously shifting in place as the number increased, nearing $800. your eyes widened at the number rafe blurted out, he knew his father would be furious once he found out how much money he blew off, but knowing no one could get their hands on you was worth it. seeing chad’s dumb grin on his face fall was purely a bonus.

after the event, you walked off stage, where rafe was waiting for you by the stairs. “thought you said you shouldn’t have to bid to go on a date with me?” you mock. he chuckled, dipping his head down to capture your lips with his, “like i said, you’re my girl. you didn’t really think i’d let these assholes take you from me, did you?” you giggle, “no, but you’re dad might kill you for how much money you dropped, which was a ridiculous amount.” rafe shrugged, “the old man will be fine, you know i don’t care how much i spend when it comes to you.”

“plus, i wanna know what my present is,” he grinned, “you can’t blame me for wanting to know when you’re the one who mentioned it.” you give him a playful smack to the chest, “you’ll see what it is when we’re back at my apartment.”

as soon as those words left your mouth, he practically dragged you out of the building. once the two of you made it to your apartment, he tried to pull you into your bedroom, only for you to shove him onto the couch, “be patient,” you warned. “baby, you know i’m the most impatient man when it comes to you,” rafe complained, groaning at the look you give him, “okay, fine.”

“wait here,” he watched you disappear around the corner and into your bedroom. he looked around at your apartment's walls which were adorned with pictures. his ears perked at the sound of your bedroom door opening, accompanied by your voice, ”close your eyes!” you poked your head out, ensuring his eyes were closed before walking out.

you stood before him, lowering your head to press your lips onto his in a messy kiss, climbing onto his lap, your legs straddling either side of him. rafe wrapped his arms around your waist, his tongue slipping into your mouth. he let out a strained groan as you suck on his bottom lip, a string of spit connecting between your lips when you pull away.

“holy shit…” rafe rasps, his eyes blinking open, raking up and down your body, taking in the red and white candy cane lingerie. “god…you look so fuckin’ sexy,” his hands ran up and down your thighs, fingers playing with the embellishments on your stockings.

you kiss along his jaw to his neck, sucking and biting at his skin. you roll your hips into him, grinding your clothed cunt against his bulge. rafe’s hand entangles in your hair, tugging your head back to pull you in for another kiss. he nips at your bottom lip, ”as much as i love this on you, i wanna see those pretty tits,” his hands snake behind your back. he unhooks the clasps of the corset, pushing the straps off your shoulders, and tossing it aside. your eyes flutter shut, his lips trailing down your neck to leave wet, open-mouthed kisses.

your hands pull at the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head, before gently shoving him to sit back. “i’m supposed to make you feel good tonight,” you slipped off his lap, settling yourself between his legs, your hands fumbling with the button and zipper of his pants. rafe lifted his hips, helping you pull his pants and boxers down to pool around his ankles, his hard cock slapping against his abdomen. you look up at him, wrapping your hand around his length, stroking it slowly before licking at his tip, sucking it into your mouth.

he watches you take more of his cock into your mouth, and he leans forward, grabbing your hair and bunching it into his fist. “fuck, just like that,” he moans, his hips rolling, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth, pulling a gag from you when his tip repeatedly kisses the back of your throat. you blink up at him, tears threatening to spill and drool slipping out of your mouth, “always makin’ a mess on my cock like a good girl, just how i like it,” his praise making you press your thighs together.

his jaw goes slack, watching your lips slide up and down his dick, “fuck…you like makin’ me feel good, don’t you? always wanna please me no matter what?” you hum around him, the vibrations traveling up his cock making it hard for his eyes to stay open. he pulls you off of him with a wet ‘pop,’ “if i’m gonna cum, it needs to be inside your sweet little cunt.”

rafe yanks you up from your knees, and you hurriedly try to remove the garter belt and thigh-high stockings. “no, keep ‘em on,” he demands, pulling you down onto his lap again. you rest your hands on his broad shoulders, raising your hips to let his fingers hook into your thong to pull it to the side. “jesus, sucking my dick always gets you this wet, huh?” he chuckles, planting a hand on your hip to keep you steady.

he guides his cock to your drooling hole, biting back a groan at your walls stretching around him, sucking him in deeper. he presses his head into the cushion of the couch, staring up at you in awe as you roll your hips. ”takin’ me so deep, your pussy is always greedy f’me, isn’t she?” his hands ghost up your plush thighs to your ass. you whined when he delivered a sharp smack. “c’mon baby, you can do better than that,” he coos, encouraging you to move up and down, bouncing on his cock.

“good girl, just like that…” rafe grunted, leaning forward to capture your nipple into his mouth. his fingers dug into the flesh of your waist, “rafe–” you yelped, the pain and pleasure of feeling his teeth sink into the sensitive bud sending jolts through your body. you whine as he pulls away, “oh, you like that, huh?”

he pulls you forward, your face burying into his shoulder and his hands grip the fat of your ass, holding you still to pound into you. you cry out, your nails biting into his skin, his thighs smacking against your ass with each harsh thrust. the head of his cock persistently hits your cervix, pulling a sharp gasp from you.

rafe removes one hand to slip between the two of you, the pads of his fingers circling your puffy clit. your eyes roll back, whimpering into his shoulder, “gonna cum f’me, baby? gonna make a mess all over my cock then let me fill this pretty pussy with my cum?”

“y-yes!” you sob, his fingers pinching your clit, sending you over the edge. “shh, just a little longer,” he groans at your walls squeezing around him. you pant against his neck, squirming on top of him. his hips stutter, pushing himself deep inside you, moaning your name, his cum spilling inside your cunt, painting your walls white.

“don’t know how you’re gonna beat next year’s present, this might’ve been the best christmas present yet,” rafe panted, kissing the side of your head.

taglist: @oceandriveab @cameronwillow @bloodibambiidoll @cameronsprincess @rafesthroatbaby @starkeysbabygirl @nemesyaaa @rafesangelita @rafesbabygirlx @fallbhind @zyafics @fae-of-prey @cybersunnie @whytheylosttheirminds @ilovefiction4lmen @jjslaybank @whinyangel @rafeysangelbaby @momoewn @kazanskied @saintlike05 @coco-cinnamon @blckbrrybasket @wearemadeofstardust0 @starkeysbebe @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @starkeysheart @littlelamy

[somnoir]

Gotham's newest Crime Lord - part 4

Part 3 | Masterpost

Danny wasn't expecting for Red Hood to corner him. He would be lying when he says he wasn't panicking. First of all, they had quite literally strung up the bodies of prominent figures of the court of owls in very public places, then proceeded to order Technus to spread information about the court and their wrong doings.

The next step of the plan had been to publish a list of names—members of the court. Rich fruitloops that they were going to rely on the public to destroy. If the public and the GCPD couldn't do it, Danny had his ways to do so. Hauntings usually drove people mad if done a certain way.

But nevermind that!

His heart was practically trying to escape his chest—not that it was beating but it was there, in spirit (ha). He just wanted to see if little Emily and her sister were being fed by their mom and check if he needed to whisk the kids away and have them reside in one of their headquarters. Dan was more than willing to convert one of their facilities into a safehouse for children. Jeremy and some others were the ones who usually dealt with the house—others being parents are older siblings who got into crime for their family's.

"Phantom."

"Hood."

AAAAHH! The hot revenant really was looking for me! Thankfully, none of his siblings were there to witness how Danny was silently punching the air in absolute joy. Fuck yeah! Hot Crime Lord!

"Lemme guess... The big bad bat ain't too happy about the trouble we caused?" Danny chuckled, tilting his head as he narrowed his eyes. Organized crime was much better than his kingly duties, especially when it wasn't him playing the leader. Dan was doing pretty good as a boss, though Danny was reluctant to admit that in honor of his role as a younger brother.

"Sure as hell." Red Hood snorted, "But that ain't why I'm here, ghosty."

Danny rolled his eyes, gesturing for the other man to keep talking.

"You dealt with the court. Wraith led the mission... Personally. Not you. Not anyone else. It was Wraith, right?" Red Hood hummed, his helmet and modulator hiding everything. It frustrated Danny.

The mission was indeed led by Dante himself. But the operation had been split into three. Dan's team (Skulker, Amorpho) taking on the leaders of the court and disposing of them immed. While Danny's team (Wulf and Ember) were tasked to deal with the talons. Meanwhile, Elle's team (Johnny, Kitty, and Shadow) were tasked with saving the kids that weren't turned into Talons. But even then, Dan took full command of the situation.

It had been Dan who personally hung the Judge of the Clocktower and smeared his blood with some rhyme. It had been Dan who took charge of the remaining Talons once their leaders were dead and hung.

But it has been Danny who took the main Talon, dragged their body to Arkham, and painted a message in glowing, neon green paint. Maybe mixed with a bit of Ecto for better effects.

At the moment, all of the living Talons were in another one of their facilities—one outside of Gotham. Dan was a paranoid bastard, rightfully so, and had ordered the rehabilitation of these mindless soldiers outside of the Bats' territory. They didn't need anyone meddling with this. Not when it was Dan's first time choosing rehabilitation over elimination. In truth, these Talons were just innocent kids turned into weapons by the real monsters.

"Yeah, Wraith personally led this one." Danny pressed a hand against his hip, defiantly looking at the brick house that was the Red Hood. God, he almost didn't want a growths spurt if this was their height different. "Heard you've been snoopin' around, Red. What? Didya miss me?" It was teasing, a joke. He didn't expect much from it. He leaned in, grinning even when his mouth couldn't be seen, before pulling back as fast as he could.

But Hood sighed, letting out the hottest quiet laugh he could ever muster and tilted his head. "Yeah... Kinda missed you, ghosty. The kids were lookin' for yah. Emily was screamin' for yah on the roof two days ago."

Danny blinked.

Oh....

OH!

"Sure, sure." He immediately dismissed it, trying his best to make sure that his fast didn't go all purple, because apparently, that's the ghost version of blushing. Shit. "But the big bad Bat ain't too happy with us, yeah? I mean. Stringin' up the Judge and Talon gets you on his naughty list."

"Can't say he's pleased about it."

"Yeah, well, we ain't apologizing for that shit. The court wasn't on our radar before but they took one of our kids. Wraith is known for being one hell of a monster when it comes to kids." Danny scoffed, "They were turning them into weapons, Hood. I'd be okay if you want to throw them into Arkham, but the Judge and Talon? Somethings are more important than morals."

And Danny fucking knows that. He knows that some things should be out above morals, that they should be more important. His parents had failed to do that, failed to put their family above their morals and beliefs. The reveal was never going to be good. Not when Maddie Fenton fell to her knees, unable to accept that her baby died and demanded for him to give her back her son. It had hurt when she couldn't accept that Danny was Phantom and Phantom was Danny.

It got worse when they found out about Dan and Elle. They were hysterical. They stopped eventually. No more hunting, no more trying to protray ghosts as evil. They stopped helping the GIW. But they still couldn't accept it. They just vanished after that, leaving Danny and Jazz with Vlad, who had thankfully redeemed himself.

Danny knows what it meant to put something above your morals. Knows how valuable that is.

He shook his head, once again getting his head out of his heart and turning back to Red Hood. "Get to the point, Hood. You weren't looking for me for no reason."

"Well I've got someone who wants to meet the Wraith. The Court... They were almost involved in the court and was targeted." Red Hood tried to explain, making sure to sound as vague as possible. Danny could—kinda—understand why he was. Keeping someone anonymous until they couldn't. "Was wonderin' if you could set up a meeting. I don't think there's anywhere in Gotham that's basically neutral ground at this point but I'm willin' to bet on an area that you guys won't start a fight."

Danny paused, trying to simplify that damn request in his head. Hood wanted a meeting with Wraith, to introduce someone. And about the location? He was right. The entirety of Gotham was someone's haunt, every part of it was claimed. Even when the people were living, some were so damn liminal that certain areas were basically haunts now. Crime Alley being one of the biggest areas to end up becoming a haunt.

He could only think of three places that could somehow be considered their haunt: The Hill, where their main base was, the Narrows where Dan was trying to take over Arkham to make the security better, and possibly the Docks and Harbor. But there wasn't a solid claim on any of them, except for the Hill. It was one of the poorest and most crime-ridden areas of Gotham. The locals were hostile as hell when they first arrived, but after the Ghosts started cleanin' up the streets, helping people by offering a steady income, and keeping the kids safe, they eventually welcomed the Ghosts with open arms. It helped when Dan started weeding out people that were extorting the area.

That area was a no-go, obviously. Not their base.

"Gimme a second. Gotta ask about this before discussing a location." He whipped out his phone, modified perfectly by their resident technopath, Tucker-fucking-Foley.

D1: Got Hood here.

D2: Ew

D2: I don't wanna hear you moon about your revenant

D1: you're a bitch

D1: fuck you

D1: 🖕🖕🖕

D1: but that's not it

D1: he wants to set up a meeting. Said he'll introduce someone that Court tried recruiting

D2: Bet Vlad's castle that it's Nightwing

D2: he fits the Court's recruits

D1: what??

D1: all of the bats fit the MO

D2: yeah but Nightwing's the most flexible one. Idk

D2: Gut feeling

D2: Tell em I'm willing

D2: only on Sunday tho.

D1: K

"Good news! He's willing to show his ugly mug."

Red Hood snorted.

"Bad news—" and now he stiffened, "Wraith's only available on Sunday. Busy sched, see."

"Alright," Hood sighed, "Where are you guys willing to meet?"

Again, that was a problem. Danny might suggest the Bowery but that was too close to Hood's haunt. It wasn't until he felt the tug in his shadow that he goes stiff, blinking before he saw Hood's shadow move behind him. Instead of a hulking man, it was transforming into a classy looking woman—it reminds him of that lady from Resident Evil. The shadow moved, holding up what seemed to be a cigarette. The blankness of darkness morphed and now there was a white grin spread across her face.

Lady Gotham adored her knights but he was sure Red Hood was her favorite. Danny suspected that the city spirit had a hand in his resurrection—to which he was sure that had paperwork he'd need to process soon. But the city spirit was accommodating and welcomed them into her territory, with the promise that their intentions wouldn't turn malicious and destroy the city.

Danny couldn't help but laugh, eyes glowing green and Hood took a instinctive step back. "Heard you bats and birds got yourselves a cave." He tilted his head. "Gotham Cemetery. It's where you'll find ghosts."

The cemetery. The one area that was a haunt to all the dead and never the living.

Before Red Hood could even say another word, Danny floated of the ground, mockingly saluted the revenant, and phased through the wall.

NAILED IT!

"Lil' wing, I'm not sure about this. Doesn't it sound creepy that they want to meet in the cemetery?"

"I have a theory. I am 90% sure that the Ghosts of Gotham are actual ghosts."

"Why's you say that?"

"I had Tim and Babs help me investigate the other known members. All of them can't be detected by cameras cause the footage gets all fucked up. So we had to resort to teaditional means. Seriously, the demon brat and I had to follow that Johnny and Kitty duo around Gotham just so he could draw them properly! I kid you not, I saw those two phase through other vehicles when they were zoomin' around the streets."

"And?"

"There's a possibility that those two are from Gotham. But get this... All the matches are people who were confirmed to have died decades ago. Like... When B was a teenager."

Dick flinched. Okay. The new rogue organization might actually be made up of legitimate dead people.

"Shit."

"Right back at you."

The cemetery was already in their line of vision. Even if Dick Grayson was the target of the Court, Nightwing came with the package. Meeting Wraith as Nightwing was pretty reasonable if you had to ask him. And Jason had done his best to hunt down Phantom after Bruce forbade them from interacting with any of the ghosts unless they were starting trouble first.

Hopefully, this meeting would go well...

The cemetery is quiet once they start walking. The shadows seemed to be more lively, moving and rising like curious children wanting to catch a glimpse.

"BOO!"

His escrima sticks were already in his hands and Jason was already cocking his gun.

Phantom was floating there, upside down as Lazarus green eyes stared back at them. The obvious echo of laughter making the graveyard more eerie.

"Quit that!" Jason snapped, glowering at Phantom but slowly lowered his guns.

"Awww! C'mon now, Hood. You’re acting like you’ve seen a ghost—but a really good-looking one!" Phantom promptly runs his fingers through his hair, winking at Jason before laughing it off like it was nothing.

"You're horrendous."

"Hey, hey, hey! I'm supernatural and beyond this world!" Phantom proudly declared, clearly on the roll. But Lazarus green eyes fell to Nightwing. The reaction reminded Dick of a curious cat.

"Shit, it really was Nightwing you were talking about. I owe Wraith a hundred bucks now, birdie." Even though his mouth couldn't be seen, Dick was pretty sure that Phantom was pouting. "C'mon, birds. The boss is talking to some ghosts over there."

"So... You're really ghosts?" Jason asks, walking beside the floating ghost while Dick trailed back a couple of steps.

"Kinda? There are different kinds of ghosts, really." Phantom shrugged, going silent again. "We usually help out the other ghosts that can't meddle with the living realm. Lotta ghosts in Gotham with unfinished business."

"What kind of business?" Dick frowned.

Phantom turned to him, mischief in his eyes as he pressed a finger against the place where his lips should be. "Now, now. I ain't tellin' you, birdie. Client confidentiality and all that."

Jason grumbled something unintelligible.

"Now that ain't nice, Hood."

And then Jason grunts in response.

"C'mon, Hood!" The way Phantom whined, Dick was very sure he was pouting. "Tsk, tsk. Stop ghostin' me, wouldya?"

Dick held back a snort. While Jason's glare could be felt through his mask.

"What? That wasn't so bad! Wow... This crowd is dead."

Jason groans and Dick didn't even hide his laugh. Okay, maybe Phantom was pretty okay if you could ignore the fact that his group was pretty homicidal if needed.

"And there he is!" Phantom sounded almost mocking, the tone so strangely familiar to Dick. (Twas the sound of a younger sibling rolling their eyes). "Wraith! Brought the birdies!"

"Seriously?" Jason groaned again but stopped. Dick didn't think he was being unreasonable because holy shit!

Wraith had the same white hair as Phantom with skin paler than the damn moon. But unlike Phantom, the ends of his hair looked like fire. Red eyes instead of green... And built like a brick house, because what the fuck was that?! He was taller than Jason and Bruce! Maybe even standing taller than Superman if he stood a little straighter.

He wore the same monochrome outfit that Phantom wore and a mask that covered his mouth. With round, red tinted glasses over his eyes. Wraith was talking to the air, well, the dead. Dick could see the faint outline of a young woman.

The fucking fridge, Wraith, turned towards them once Phantom called for him.

"You fuckin' twerp, can't you see I'm still talkin'? Rude little shit."

And Dick may have realized something else. Oh. OH! That's why it was so familiar, that behaviour and mocking tone! Fucking shit, were Wraith and Phantom brothers?

Red eyes were soon trained on him. Wraith looked him over once, before humming with a smirk.

"So I was right... Nice to meet you, birdie."

Masterpost