#ask me a character + flag and i may come up with something

[achillesisnotcomingdown]

[cuppajoel]

the next seven dates| the contractor

PAIRING: modern au/ no cordyceps/younger (late 30s)!Joel Miller x plus size!reader

SYNOPSIS: Dating apps have convinced you that love isn’t real and that all men are pigs. Turning to your bffs for a Hail Mary, you ask them to set you up on a blind date each to restore your faith. Your first date is with a contractor called Joel.

wc: 8.7k (oops)

TAGS: 18+MDNI, NSFW, Modern AU, smut, developing relationships, reader is plus-sized, able bodied and afab, no other description is given. Heavy flirting, first date vibes, Joel is a gentleman at heart, dirty talk, heavy petting in a taxi, alcohol consumption, sex while under the influence, pnv protected (the crowd boos) sex, v fingering, oral sex (f receiving). Both characters are in their 30s.

A/N: I started writing this in September and fell away so many times bc writing for Joel Miller scares me. If you’re looking for a sign to write the thing that you want to read, this is it. Not beta’d.

For context of the fic. This shot is called a blowjob. It’ll all make sense, I promise.

Reblogs, comments and likes are all appreciated <3

Jingling your keys in your right hand, you watch as the numbers climb on the digital display, showing what floor you’re on. You’re exhausted. You let your head fall back against the mirrored surface behind you, your back resting on the metal bar and your eyes fluttering shut for a moment of respite. Although it wasn’t the worst date you’d ever been on, it was a close second or third. You take a deep breath.

From the moment you stepped foot into that bar, the guy was a red flag that turned into a 5-alarm fire.

“Oh wow you look good… A lot like my sister… DING Not that I think my sister looks good, but you look hot, d’you work out? DING Yeah, you can tell… how much do you squat? DING oh, well, I could probably bench you…DING We should try that sometime, if you know what I mean? DING. He laughs, a mix of a frat bro and that lizard meme comes to mind.

The elevator doors open with another ding, making your right eye twitch slightly as you cross the carpeted hall to your apartment. You turn the key in the lock and give your door the customary shoulder barge before the locking mechanism is released. Hooking your jacket and purse on the wall and locking the door behind you, you kick off your shoes and head straight for your giant corner couch, collapsing onto it with a huff.

This wasn’t just a bad date. It was a bad date after a series of bad dates, one after another. The only takeaway from each is that people seriously hyperbolise themselves online.

You were relatively new to the world of online dating after catching your fiancé of three years, Jake, doing the downward dog with your shared yoga teacher only eight months ago.

Jake was everything you thought you wanted. A nice guy with a secure 9-5 and a handsome face. But everything about him was just nice. Your dates, your apartment, your sex- all nice. And at the end of it all, he was cheating on you- real fucking nice.

Unlocking your phone, it opens to the group chat thread between you and your two best friends. You hold down the voice note button.

“So you may be wondering ‘Why is she home already?’ Well, my sweet summer children, not only did my date admit that he found his sister attractive and wanted to ‘bench me’ all before we ordered our first drink…” You pause for dramatic effect, knowing they can’t hear you, but it makes you feel better. You huff out an empty chuckle. “I am just so over it. How can a man say that his favourite film is “Little Women”, have pictures of his rescue cats on his profile, and still be that much of a stereotypical douche?” You fling your head back, resting it on the top of your couch.

“I’m going to do something dramatic and soooo not me… I am deleting the apps… the two of you are tasked with finding me a date each. I don’t wanna know anything about them before I see them- just their name, age, and one picture. You decide who is going first and the winner gets to be maid of honour at the inevitable wedding… Anyway, I’m going to go read one of my fairy porn books and contemplate my life… Night, loves!”

Somehow, you muster the energy to shift yourself from the couch to your room. You bunch up your tainted date clothes, toss them in the general direction of your hamper and pull on an oversized T-shirt. The wasted makeup is double-cleansed off your face, and you shove your hair up into an extremely unflattering bun. Grabbing your Kindle from under your pillow, you flop back onto your bed; your dates with the beautiful high-fairy king never disappoint.

Almost a week later, your best friends pull through. Having found a guy each, who they swear is the one you’ve been looking for, they arrange your dating schedule between themselves. Tonight was the first. In the Uber ride over to the restaurant, you send your location to your friend who set up the date.

Any last-minute words of wisdom?

He’s kinda that strong, silent type.

Also southern

A gentleman for sure!

Hopefully not all of the time 😮‍💨

You shove the car door closed, adjust the strap of your purse on your shoulder, and tuck your phone inside. You feel good tonight. Blue jeans, a red lip, oversized, white-button down, black, pointed-toe, heeled boots-damn they hurt, but they look so good. You slide your index fingers into the belt loops either side of your hips, hiking them up slightly to allow the denim to stretch around your ass just right.

Rounding the corner, you find yourself on the strip of bars and restaurants on the main street. You weave in and out of the patrons, everyone being washed with the rich blues and reds of the neon lights beaming down on them. As you push the door with your hip and descend the two steps to the bar, you lick your teeth, making sure they’re free from any red stains.

Inside is quite the contrast from the bustle of the streets a few feet away. The place is busy, for sure, but it’s as if everyone is collectively trying to keep the atmosphere calm and easy. A massive mahogany coloured bar is the feature of the room, with hanging, warm, filament bulbs creating small spotlights all along it.

You walk further into the room, parallel with the bar, coming to a stop at its corner, facing the bartender. You squint your eyes slightly, trying to pull out familiar shapes from the hundreds of glass bottles behind the bar. The bartender gives you a small smile; it’s your turn.

“Can I have a Tanqueray Savillia gin and tonic, please?” You ask with a soft smile, reaching for your purse to pull out your wallet. “Oh, and a shot of tequila…” You wouldn’t normally mix drinks on the first round, but you also wouldn’t normally go on a blind date.

“Sure. Do you wanna start a tab?” is the return. You look up to answer their question, having retrieved your card and holding it firm between your index and middle fingers.

“Yeah, plea-“

“I got the this one.” A warm, sturdy presence flanks you on your right shoulder. Their strong right hand is placed gently on the bar next to you. Your eyes flick up to the mirrors behind the bar, meeting his in the reflection. He’s looking right back at you through the glass, and a small, closed-mouth smile creeps across your face as you turn to face him in real life.

“Joel?” He nods slowly in response, the smile not faltering as he looks down at you, a glitter in his espresso-coloured eyes. His eyes trail down your form and then back up; you allow yourself to do the same to him. Although not the tallest man you’ve seen, he’s built big.

He’s wearing a charcoal grey, brushed-cotton button down and dark-wash denim jeans that fit him perfectly. Both sleeves of his shirt are folded in on themselves and stop just below his elbow. His hair must be naturally wavy or curly, but it’s been pushed back and tamed slightly, a few curls going rogue.

“Hey, it’s good to meet ya,” he tips his head down slightly as you raise yours, meeting each other in the middle as you press a kiss on the other person's cheek. He smells warm and masculine, a mix of cedarwood and something earthy, like basil. “I’ll take a Glenlivet 15 and a shot of tequila- the tab is under Miller. Thank you.” He smiles firmly at the bartender. Your eyes follow the line of his thick neck, up through his jaw, which is peppered with trimmed salt and pepper stubble.

“Shit, I’m sorry…” your hand comes up to his jaw, remnants of your merlot coloured lipstick on his cheek. He turns back to you and creases his eyes slightly, not following your apology but also not flinching an inch as you place your hands on him.

Your thumb moves in a slow and firm window-wiper motion to try and remove the stain. “I got lipstick on you…” Your left hand now comes up to the other side of his face, pushing ever so slightly to get him to turn to face you more. He preens into your touch, malleable to where you want him. The trimmed stubble pricks lightly at your fingertips.

“Is it my colour at least?” He teases, he looks down at you from the corner of his eye as you woman-handle his face. Damn, his voice is deep. It rumbles through your chest, signifying how close you are to this broad, thick, stranger.

“Yes. Very pretty.” You return with the same level of flirt. Your eyes shift from the red mark you’ve placed on him to his as you give him a lazy smile. The bartender sets up your drinks on the bar in front of you, making you both finally pop from whatever bubble you found yourself in. Three minutes in and you’re already cradling his face? Nice one, babe. You hear your friend's voice in your head.

“Well…” Joel picks up both shot glasses of tequila and hands you one, raising his own, and an eyebrow in your direction. “Cheers-“

“Hold it!” You cut in, your glass also raised to the same level as his. “Gotta look me in the eyes as we drink… otherwise it’s seven years bad sex.” You say, dipping your voice ever so slightly as you remember the above dive-bar standard of the room you find yourself in.

“Shit- well…” Joel smirks, he clinks his glass against yours. “Can’t be havin’ that now darlin’” That southern accent clings to every word as he throws the liquid back, his eyes not faltering for a second. You mirror his actions entirely, trying your best not to screw up your face as the liquid heats your insides.

He gives a silent chuckle before leaning into you again, hand on the small of your back and his mouth hovering just over your ear. “I snagged a table in the corner over there…” He points over your shoulder and you follow with your eyes. “Means you can keep telling me how pretty I am…” he teases and resumes his stance- one giant hand supporting himself on the bar.

Your mouth raises slightly at the sides. That first shot of alcohol hits you nicely as the smell of his cologne makes you breathe harder. “Sure.” You grab your drink from the bar and walk ahead of him to the vacant table, hoping that ‘ol’ faithful’ jeans are doing their job.

You stop just before the chair that isn’t covered by his leather jacket, waiting for confirmation. It comes in the form of Joel pulling out the seat for you. “Pretty and a gentleman… so many sides to you, Joel.” You say, not putting your full weight on the chair so that he can tuck it in under you.

He quickly joins you at the table, his large presence not diminished by his seated position. “Well, what can I say? I’ve got many talents.” He shrugs as he takes a sip of his amber liquid, the ice clinking softly as he places it back down.

In the ease of the past forty minutes, you both had forgotten that this was a first date. A charged silence falls upon you both as you simply take each other in, smiling widely when you catch eyes.

Joel watches as you unconsciously play with your necklace. He’s actively trying to stay in the room rather than let his mind wander about your full, rounded lips that flash red with danger.

“So, I gotta say, I thought you’d be a little more bossy given your demand for a blind date… You do that often?” He sips the whisky, hoping it will bring him back to earth. He so desperately didn’t want to be the guy not paying attention to what you were saying, given that he had asked the question.

“No,” you started, your eyes crinkling at the sides as you smile, “I don’t usually demand that they set me up on blind dates, but the last guy I went on a date that I organised admitted his attraction towards his sister and then tried to organise sex… all within the same sentence, so I’m starting to doubt my abilities to pick for myself.”

Joel splutters on his drink slightly, the fiery liquid catching the back of his throat as he coughs. “You got any siblings?” you cock your head, chuckling that you caught him off guard.

“My brother has a bit too much moustache for my taste,” he says, taking another quick sip to hopefully soothe the burning in his throat. “And I don’t tend to ‘schedule in’ sex.” He murmurs, the words coming out a bit laboured due to the whisky in his throat.

“Noted.” You return, “I’ll make sure to keep mine at bay.” You rub your upper lip before finishing off the last mouthful of your drink. “You want another drink?” You ask in a way that sounds hopeful. Not wanting to run after 10 minutes? Double nice one babe.

“Yeah.” He savours the last sip of his drink, licking across his bottom lip. “What can I get you?”

“Oh no, this one’s on me, pretty.” You wink at him. Joel opens his mouth in protest but wavers, a slight flush coming over him at his new nickname. “Same again?” You ask.

Joel notices how the lights strung around the place bounced off your eyes, making it harder to see their colour but even more difficult to look away. You pick up his empty glass as you stand. Joel nods in response, giving an earnest “Thank you, darlin’.” As he watches you make the small walk from your table to the bar, he gives himself full permission to check you out.

Your jeans look like they were painted on by the devil, caressing every curve of your waist and thighs. The back pocket of your pants stretches and pulls as you slide one of your hands in, waiting on a popped hip to be served at the bar. The denim leaves little to the imagination but, boy, was Joel imagining? He never wanted to be in a wrestling match more than with this pair of pants. He takes a deep breath, trying not to think about how difficult it would be to peel them off your body.

You move, shifting your weight to your other hip; your heels must be hurting you, he thinks. He lets his eyes wander up over your silhouette, up to your profile, as he does, he sees your eyes waiting for his. “Busted.” you mouth to him, your lips forming a wicked smile.

Joel smirks too, not letting up his gaze and nodding. ”So busted.” he says under his breath.

It’s not long before you join him back at your table, setting his down in front of him with a tip of your head before sitting back and enjoying a long sip from your own.

From the corner of your eye, the bartender comes over, placing two shot glasses in front of you. “Ah, thank you!” You say to them as they return to their bar. “Here ya go, I didn’t have enough hands for everything.” You hold out the shot to Joel with a devious look that wasn’t there before you’d left.

It wasn’t a shot Joel had ever seen before, a mix of different browns and beiges topped off with whipped cream. Joel takes the small glass between his fingers and crinkles his eyes at you. “Should I be scared?” He says, turning the glass to see the different liquors marbling together.

“That depends…” You move your shot glass to your other hand and lick some whipped cream off your thumb before switching it back to your dominant hand. “Do you like blowjobs, Joel?” You flutter your lashes and smile sweetly at the man across from you, whose jaw had just gone slack and eyes darker from the last time you’d looked at them.

Joel, not wanting to interrupt whatever mood you’d returned with from that bar, makes a deep “mmm mmm mmm” sound that started somewhere in his chest as he shakes his head and purses his lips. “You are trouble, ain’t you?” With that, you clink the glass against his and smile again.

“You have no idea.” You tip the glass back along with your head, just slightly so as not to break eye contact. Joel mirrors your motions, trying not to tempt fate given that he had a demon in front of him. Quickly, his gaze falters as the contrast in taste between the shot and his whisky has him shivering.

“Is that the best blow job you’ve ever had?” There you were again, licking the sweetness of the liquor from where it’d spilled on your fingers. A carnal image of you doing that after having his cock in your mouth flashes before his eyes. He shifts in his seat, having to tug at the denim at his crotch.

“Probably not.” Joel starts, taking a drink to rid his mouth of the overly sweet shot. “But, I believe in second chances-can always try again.” The liquor was starting to talk for him as he felt it climb his neck and up his ears.

“Okay, so I have this game that I play on dates…” You start, somehow your chair had drifted closer and closer throughout the night, as you both take turns getting the next round from the bar. As you sit elbow to elbow with Joel, close enough to smell the whisky that mixes with his earthy cologne.

“I like where this is headed already.” His accent has gotten stronger over the hour that has passed.

You shove his shoulder, “Shut upp. The game is that you have to imagine that your memory is wiped, so you get to experience things for the first time again… I then give you a category and you can only pick one thing, okay? So, if I were to say movie: what movie would you want to experience watching for the first time again?”

“Blade Runner”, he says, without hesitation. His eyes were starting to have that warm, glazed look that comes with drinking. “You?”

“Probably Scream or Fight Club- I like a twist. Vacation?”

“Ireland.”

“Australia.” you respond, picking up the pendant on your necklace out of habit, dragging it back and forth along the chain. Joel follows the movement of your fingers with his eyes, letting it soothe him too. “Food?”

“Mmmm, that’s a hard one…probably something that my Mom makes, like chilli or barbecue.”

“You’re easy to please, hm?”

“Give me a plate of good food and I’m yours.” He picks up his glass, trying to savour the liquid as you’d both agreed ‘just one more’ two drinks ago.

“I also love chilli.” You start, watching the way his lips wrap around the glass and how his tongue flicks across his lips when he sets it back down. “But I think I’d go with a dessert like chocolate fudge sundae… or, have you ever had one of those French pastries… What are they called? Pain au chocolat? That would be mine.”

He hums again, enjoying watching you ask and answer your own questions. The fidget that you started with the pendant of your necklace holding steady. In a moment of no thought, Joel slowly reaches out and stills your movement to look at the gold medal. “This is pretty.” He says to himself more than anything.

His big hand covers yours and flips the coin-shaped jewellery over with his fingers, the only response you can muster, “mmm”. He surveys the jewellery as best he can in the dim light of the bar, noticing the engraving on the back.

“It’s my initials.” You say. Your hand, and his, staying exactly where they are.

“Oh, you have a middle name.” More an accusation than a question. He sounds as if he’s uncovering some hidden gem about you. “What is it?”

“Nuh uh, you’re not getting it that easy. That’s for date five at least.” You tease, your gaze becoming heavier, the devious glimmer in Joel’s eyes becoming stronger.

“Anything else special happen on date five?”

”You might get another blowjob… but you were so ungrateful for the first one.” Your eyes drop to his mouth and then back up to his.

Joel can feel himself aching to be closer to you. His hand that holds the pendant now drifts to your jaw, his thumb feathering over your cheek, mirroring the window-wiper hold you had him in the first moments that you’d met each other.

He had a craving to explore every part of you, to taste, smell, and hear you. The need shoots through every nerve ending, spurring him on to take everything he can. But he has to slow down, or else take you to the bathroom and make you fill up all of his senses.

The Texan gentleman within him holds strong, as much as he could feel all of his reasoning heading south. He brings his face closer to yours, that slanted smile quickly becoming your favourite sight. “Can I take you home?” He rumbles, his voice low and soft so only you both could hear it.

The whisky on his breath makes your eyes flutter as you draw a sharp breath at his question. Your mouth turns up at the sides, you can tell your eyes have the same shimmer as his. Tipsy. Ready.

This wasn’t something you’d planned on. You had so many rules about first dates: No kissing (hence the red lipstick), no sharing a car, and no sex until you felt safe. With this man’s hand cradling the back of your neck and his calloused thumb tracing down your jaw and back again, you feel like syrup dripping over hot pancakes.

You’ve lost all sense of what time it is, or how long you’d been sitting there, inches from his face as your body screams at you to kiss him.

His face is so close to yours that his features become fuzzy. Your eyes are having a hard time focusing in this light. Joel’s eyes move over your features, waiting, restraining, teasing, not daring to push further until you say so.

You reach out to the corded forearm that is tensed and attached to the hand that was holding you gently. Your manicured nails rake up and down his arm in a feathered tickle. You feel his breathing deepen as you press your top teeth into your bottom lip.

“You’re gonna need to,” The pressure from your scratches is getting slightly harder, causing a hum to vibrate in Joel’s throat. “or else everyone will see how pretty you are with this shade of lipstick on your mouth.”

Joel takes the weight of your head and neck in his hands. He holds you both in that position; thick fingers cradling your nape. His tongue traces along his lips and pulls back slightly just so he can take in the heavy-lidded, slack-jawed sight before him.

“Let’em see.” he brings his lips, achingly close to yours, his eyes open, waiting for that last confirmation before he hands over his soul.

In an instant, his lips find yours, setting a slow, strong pace. The trimmed stubble on his upper lip chafes against your soft skin, creating the sweetest friction.

His cologne, mixing with the whisky and the warmth of his skin, takes over your senses as the broad backed man envelops you in his big arms.

Raking your hands through the soft curls at the back of his head, you can help but kitten lick at his bottom lip, craving a taste of that whisky you’ve seen him sip at all evening.

It only takes an instant for Joel’s breathing to deepen and for his tongue to meet yours, you both stifling a moan as you slide deeper and deeper into each other’s mouths.

Your wills, hanging by a thread, allow you a moment of clarity to softly pull away. A noise rumbles within Joel’s chest as you do, his resolve slipping like sand in an hourglass. With heavy eyes he lingers on your messy mouth, his brain unable to think of anything else than what state you’d end up in after his cock passes through your full lips.

With a chuckle, you bring your thumb to his mouth, wiping away the remnants of your lipstick that have transferred to him. “Messy boy.” You mumble, assuming your pupils must be the same size as his. He mirrors the movements on your mouth. The lipstick, blurry and smeared into a faded, pastel red that he hopes stays on him for days.

Joel swipes gently at your hot, swollen lips and chin, trying to clean you up and calm himself down before you leave the table. At one of the passes of his over your mouth, you lick softly at the pad of his finger. Matching your mood, he sinks his teeth into the fleshy part at the base of your thumb and tugs slightly.

“If we don’t leave in the next minute this whole goddamn bar is gonna see how messy I get when I turn your sweet ass the same colour as your mouth.” He licks then kisses where he had bitten you, making your eyes flutter and thighs press together.

The next half an hour was a blur. You both had the mission to get to your apartment as soon as possible, causing you to move with the most efficiency that four drinks would allow you to.

The Uber ride was the longest of your life.

Joel opened the car door and then slid right in behind you. His large, powerful hands placing you into the middle seat and wrapping the seatbelt around you, clicking it into place. He places his warm hand in the inside of your thigh, unable to keep his hands from you, you did the same, your forearm laying across the top of his thigh, nails scratching softly at the denim.

The alcohol has well and truly gone to your head, making every touch and graze feel heady and dreamlike. Joel was struggling. All night he was craving to be closer to you, holding and restraining himself but now that he’d had a taste it was impossible not to touch you. Trying to maintain his stoicism was less like stopping a yawn or sneeze and more like trying to stop a freight train on a windy day.

In the front, your driver is murmuring along to the radio, but all you can hear is the heavy, warm breathing of the man behind you as you allow him to explore your jean-clad thighs.

Pulling, pushing, kneading, it felt like Joel couldn’t get close enough. The roughness of his touch was full of nothing but need and desire.

You can’t make out everything he’s saying, his whisper is strained and raspy. You can make out the words goddamn and jeans; the lucky fabric achieving their purpose once again.

Your hand covers Joel’s, squeezing and pushing at him, encouraging him to keep going. Whatever devil was inside you wanted to push him to his limits in the back of this cab.

Feeling bold, you allow your palm to push at Joel’s high, travelling further and further up his lap before you stop dangerously close to the giant bulge you can see in the low light of the cab. This wasn’t typical behaviour from you, but the solid warmth of the man under you called to your most primitive nerves.

Dropping your head to Joel’s shoulder, you lean into his neck, leaving sloppy, wet kisses, tinged with light pink, in your wake. Trying your damnedest to hold strong until you get to the apartment.

The walk through the main doors of your apartment building was full of sideways glances and lip bitten chuckles. To have such desire within hours of meeting someone had never happened to you before. It made your skin tingle, all of your senses heightened.

By the time you reach the elevator, you can hardly recognise the darkness in the eyes peering into yours. Fingers interlaced, firm squeezes shoot straight to your clit; Joel’s rough hands somehow able to be strong but reverent at the same time.

Waiting until the doors close, Joel guides you against the brushed steel bar, which reaches the small of your back, and closes you in. His hands hold onto the bar on either side of your hips.

That nagging, rational part of Joel’s brain was screaming at him. He didn’t want any wires crossed or doubts about his intentions about tonight. Sure, he’d had his fair share of one night stands but not for years and certainly not with someone who he’d felt this level of attraction to.

With his knuckle, he ensures your eyes are on him as he hovers his mouth too close to yours. “I need you to know that I didn’t come on this date expectin’ anythin’and I still don’t…” he bows slightly, his forehead rests against yours, and he exhales with a self-fuffacing chuckle.

“I should be a gentleman. I should walk you to your front door, kiss you, and say goodnight.”

But I don’t know if I can, his brain screams at him.

Unmoving, you both share breath in close proximity. The alcohol in your system is dulled by the rush of adrenaline and hormones that are buzzing around your body.

Your teeth latch on to your bottom lip, Joel immediately catches on to the action but squeezes his lids shut, keeping his caveman brain at bay just barely.

The hotness of Joel’s breath fanning over your face has you fantasising about how it’d feel to have it between your legs. You shuffle slightly, squeezing your thighs together and feeling how wet this evening has made you already.

Staying in the electric silence, your chuckle echoes his own. You mimic his actions, moving your forehead, pressing the knuckle of your forefinger under his chin, encouraging him to lift it so that you can look him in the eyes.

“Joel, I’ve got some good news for ya…” The elevator dings, opening its metal doors at your floor. You let your grasp of his chin fall so you can wriggle free of his hold and lead the way to your apartment. “You might be a gentleman, but I’m not.”

Exiting the elevator slowly, you emphasise the movement of your hips as you lead the way through the carpeted hallway to your door. Joel follows closely, admiring the view with hearts in his eyes. Pausing for the briefest of moments, he exhales fully, palming himself, squeezing to elevate the ache at the base of his cock before catching up to you.

Twisting the key in the lock, you ram the door with your hips once, twice. “C’mon cockblocker” you ram it again, somehow the combination works, gaining you access to your apartment and a sideways glance from Joel which reads ‘we’ll deal with this later’.

With unfathomable accuracy, you throw your keys into the dish by your door and shrug off Joel’s leather jacket, which he kindly lent you, hanging it by the door.

At your back, you feel the Texan man push his hips into your ass. His fingers slide through your belt loops, giving him more purchase and momentum as you lead the way down the hall to your bedroom. His lips kiss softly at your neck, inhaling your scent before exhaling with a rumble. “Can you feel that, darlin’? Feel how fuckin’ hard you make me?” He punctuates with another pump of his hips.

A playful chuckle passes your lips as you turn on your heel so that you are facing him. Bravely, you press your palm firmly against the thickness under his jeans.

A flush starts at the base of your spire and carries up to the tips of your ears, as you feel how hard he is. His eyes flutter close, a deep groan reverberating from his throat as your breathing gets heavier. “Oh fuck, you’re big.” You rush out, that brain-to-mouth filter experiencing technical difficulties.

Joel threads his fingers through your hair, his palm cradling your head, the other grabbing at your full hip. His big brown eyes glimmer in the low light of the room as he scans your full face, stopping at your lips before flicking back up to match your gaze. “I believe in you, sweetheart. I think you can take it.” A sideways smirk, gifted to him by horny demon, swipes across his full lips.

Bringing your lips to his once again, the kiss is feverish, missing all of the earnestness of your first. Joel licks into your mouth deeply, his tongue gliding along yours, your breaths mixing together, making the air balmy.

Almost simultaneously you reach for his belt buckle and he your top button, the soft clink of metal on metal making your pussy clench.

He coaxes you backwards, prodding you to lay down on the bed as you begin working the buttons of your shirt.

Reaching behind himself, he tugs on the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swoop. His body is a wall of soft muscle- not created at a gym but through honest hard work. Freckles speckled down his arms and across his chest- you want to trail a path with your tongue.

“These jeans laced with black magic or somethin? Had me hallucinatin’ from the minute I saw you at that bar.” He peels them down in a see-saw motion. Joel kisses down the roundness of your hips and thighs as they are revealed little by little as he goes one on one with the denim.

Before long, jeans, shirts, and shoes are cast to the outskirts of the room. You lay before him in a blue matching set- the heft of your tits barely confined. Giving them a squeeze, your smaller hands barely cover them, the pillowy flesh spilling over the spaces in between your fingers.

Joel’s eyes go directly to them, a slanted smile sweeping across his face before he lowers his lips to the roundness of your stomach.

Licking, kissing, inhaling the scent that he assumed was your perfume lingers heavy on the plumpness of your soft skin. Travelling lower and lower, Joel settles himself, kneeling on the floor before you, eyes settled on the damp patch spreading on the gusset of your panties.

With forearms hooked under your thighs and hands resting on top Joel yanks you towards him, his beautiful hooked nose laying on the wet fabric as he inhales. “Fuck me.” He whispers into your mound.

Hooking his fingers around the fabric, his eyes flick up to yours for permission. Bumping up onto your forearms for a better view, you smile wickedly, crooking your neck to the side. “Let’s see how messy you can get, pretty.”

Joel all but rips the lace garment, whisking it downwards, past your knees before he hovers his mouth just above your pussy, close enough that his breath tickles against the soft hairs. Tongue first, he places wet kisses on just north of where you want him the most.

Instinctively, your hips raise, eliciting a dark chuckle from him. “Goddamn you’ve got a pretty pussy.” He shifts you so that your legs lay over his shoulders and freeing up his hands to push apart your folds, allowing him to see your swollen clit.

With a flat tongue, Joel licks almost too tenderly at the soft, dewy skin before swooping languidly over and over your bud. “Oh my god.” You moan, willing your hips to stay still and stop being so greedy, allow this man to cook.

“Never been called that before.” he mumbles, bringing the sides of his cheeks together, gathering his saliva in his mouth and then letting it fall to your clit. You were already soaked but Joel needed to see you dripping, messy. You moan, the lewd act making your eyes roll back.

Although being caught up in the desperation you had for each other, Joel needed to take inventory of every twitch, roll, and moan passing through your sweet, soft form. There was no way that he was taking tonight as a solitary event, already craving how you’d moan and whimper for him when you allowed him to fuck you bare.

Gently, he pulled at the apex of your pussy with one hand, pulling at the hood of your clit to unsheath it fully, before circling it with deep, even pressure with his opposite thumb. “You are fucking soaked, sweeheart.” Your breathing gets heavier, you’re unable to open your eyes fully, but you’re not willing to miss a second of this guy at work.

Joel incorporates his mouth, slurping and swallowing as if you were ice cream threatening melt right under him. Threading your fingers through his messy hair you push and pull at his fluffy curls, your heels digging in just at his shoulder blades to encourage him, more.

Feeling him chuckle,he presses into you deeper, his lips and tongue now licking into your pussy which flutters and pulses around his tongue. With each movement of his jaw you feel his beautiful nose bump and swipe across your clit, that familiar buzz at the base of your spine growing stronger and stronger. “Fuck, Joel keep going, it feels so fucking good…”

Hearing his name as a moan on your lips, strokes the most primitive part of him. He needs to be closer, deeper, before he comes in his pants like a teenager.

Somehow finding the strength to peel himself from you, he stands, his cock aching and hard as stone. There’s a clear, darkened patch on his boxers which steals your attention for a second before it moves slowly to his hand squeezing at himself. “I gotta get you ready sweetheart. Gotta be inside you.” He shucks his boxers off himself and pumps his cock in his hand.

Resuming his earlier position, Joel gathers your slick with his middle and ring finger before pushing them in slowly to your weeping pussy.

“Shit”

“Mmmmmfuck”

Groaning in unison, you swear you see Joel’s eyes flutter in the way yours are as you squeeze against his fingers. Joel flexes his digits, sweeping the pad of his thumb across your beautifully swollen clit to tandem with his fingers.

Shifting your hips, you rock yourself on his fingers, allowing your big tits to bounce and ripple in harmony. Opening your eyes, you can see him jerk his heavy, weeping cock at the same pace as he pumps into you, the strong expanse of his forearm tensed with chorded muscle. The view getting you closer and closer by the second.

“Think you can take more? I know your sweet pussy is gonna milk me dry.” Joel stretches his fingers inside of you, licking his lips, his eyes glued to your own.

Never have you had a man talk to you like this during sex. Often, your background music to get off was either the squeak of the bed frame or the buzz of your pocket bff after you were laying, disappointed, in a wet patch in your bed.

“Oh, you like me talking to you, don’t ya? You like it when I tell you how tight your cunt is, hm?” Joel’s upper body is covered in a small sheen of sweat, his fingers somehow able to quicken and maintain the even pressure.

“I’m gonna come, fuck.” Your hips grind harder, movements in tandem with Joel’s allowing your big tits to jiggle and ripple.

A familiar warmth spreads through your pelvis and hips, growing higher and higher flushing to the tips of your ears.

Joel, praying so hard that he doesn’t come, stops jerking himself, instead lowering his body so that he can drink your sweetness from the source. “That’s it. Good girl. Come all over me.” He speaks into your sopping wet pussy. Through thick lashes, he peers over the soft valleys of your stomach and hips, his tongue and fingers not stopping but calming to a slow, steady motion.

Ears still ringing, you prop yourself back on your elbows once more, enjoying the view of the southern man, eyes closed kitten licking at your pulsing hole.

In feeling your muscles flex in movement, his eyes pop open. He pulls his fingers from you, holding them in front of his face and scissoring his first two fingers, examining the silky wetness of your come. Without show or performance he places them in his mouth, past his knuckle in order to finish his meal.

Not wanting to waste another minute without him inside of you, you extend yourself, reaching to the top drawer of your night stand, grabbing a box of condoms and rattling them in his direction.

“I think twelve times might be ambitious but I’ll sure give it a go.” The flirty twinkle in his eye makes you cock your head to the side, giving him an over exaggerated eyeroll. He grabs the package from you, using his teeth to perforate the cellophane and pry open the untouched box.

Pumping his length a few times, Joel scans your entire body; toes, knees, thighs all the way to the undoubtably frizzy fucked curls framing your face. “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life.” It’s not until he finishes the sentence that you look up at his face, meeting his gaze that was waiting for your eyes. He slides the lubed condom over his shaft before joining you, kneeling between your parted thighs on the bed.

Biting your lip, you watch his actions in earnest, allowing his words to settle on your skin. Although never the best at taking compliments, this was not one you wanted to deflect. This beautiful, strong, southern man was looking at you with reverence and you were determined to believe it, if only for tonight.

Lowering himself on one elbow, he reaches your leg with his other arm, hooking it over the sturdy angle of his hips, his eyes never leaving yours.

Sweetly, his lips find yours, having that gentle quality that you shared in the bar. Pulling back only slightly, his eyes peer south, grabbing the base of his cock and rubbing it up and down the wetness of your slick, tap tap tapping it on your now engorged clit.

On your gasp, his eyes dilate further, unable to keep that goddamn slanted smile off his face.

Only in this moment have you noticed that when he smiles, he does with his whole face. Yes, his lips move but also his cheeks, creating a domino effect on his eyes, crinkled at the side, and the soft raising of his ears. Fuck, he was handsome.

It was your turn to peer down, looking at the way his cock was teasing you. Cheekily, you manoeuvre your hips, making the tip of his cock, notch against your cunt, causing Joel to swallow a moan and for you to smirk. “C’mon pretty, I wanna feel you stretch me with that big dick of yours.” You circle your hips, trying to make him do it again.

Leveraging your leg on his hip to raise your hips higher, he sinks into you, slowly, inch by inch until he is seated fully. Eyes cemented on yours as your smirk turns into a moan.

“Jesus Christ”

“Fuck, Joel”

Joel held still for a moment, the hand that secured your leg over your hip sweeping up and down the expanse of your thigh. “Damn you’re fucking tight.” His lips lower, licking and kissing over your collarbone and neck, the sweetness of your perfume now musky, mixing with your sweat.

As he pumps his hips with long, deep strokes, you thanked the sex gods that he had a pretty face and a pretty dick. His cock was big and thick, stretching you and making you feel beautifully full, fuller than you ever had been.

Working your hips, you moved in parallel with Joel. Pulling your hips back into the mattress when he pushed his pulsing length deep inside, bridging your hips upwards when he retreated. You didn’t want there to be a moment when he wasn’t inside you, moulding your pussy to fit his perfect size.

Joel slants his lips against yours, not waiting to push his tongue deep and long against your own. It wasn’t controlled, it was sloppy and wet, your hand threading through his hair and pulling at the disheveled strands.

The taste of him, mixed with your come and the faint memory of whisky had you rolling your eyes. It was desperate, reckless, kissing someone you barely know like this, like your life depended on it.

Pulling back, he arranges you, one leg still wrapped around his hip and the other raised up, ankle on his broad, freckled shoulders. “This okay?” His eyes, somehow wider, looking for any change in your expression, ensuring you’re comfortable.

You answer with your heels digging into his shoulder and the small of his back, pulling him into you. He feels bigger this way, his cock able to get deeper, on some strokes kissing that detonate button buried deep inside you.

It’s almost as if you forget how to breathe as he gets faster, the hair on his thighs and lower stomach now glistening with your slick as they rub against you.

Joel lifts you higher, allowing him access to grab at your ass, spreading it slightly, making your head spin and pussy flutter. “That’s it. Cmon, baby. I need to feel you come over my cock.”

This feels primal, biological; as if this night, this moment was written in the fabric of your DNA. Meant to happen.

With your eyes rolling back, you give over your body, surrendering to the will and strength of this man. Joel, feeling that he could combust at any moment looks skyward, willing his body to endure this sweetness for longer.

Bringing his thumb to your poor, swollen clit, Joel rubs in quick, deep circles, his pelvis and hips stuttering as he feels his impending orgasm.

“Fuck yes.” You come, eyes rolling, toes curling and pussy squeezing against the heavy cock inside of you. Your eyes snap shut, your jaw clenches as Joel continues to pump in and out of your spent pussy.

“Mmmmmmfuck” you peel yourself from ecstasy long enough to see Joel come. Each beautiful angle and muscle on his body tensing, his eyes scanning over your flushed face, that smile of his appearing again.

Inching towards you, he kisses you sweetly, the curls at the nape of his neck getting curlier by the second. His giant palm rests on your cheek, deepening the kiss slightly, running his thumb over your jaw.

It doesn’t take long for you both to get cleaned up. You grabbing the oversized T-shirt that lay dormant under your pillow and him finding his boxers in the far corner of the room.

A conversation isn’t had about whether Joel should sleepover or not, instead you fall into each other again; kissing, biting, licking, unable to stop but too tired and a little drunk to take it further.

An ungodly vibration on wood wakes you from the best sleep you’ve had in months. Shooting up in bed, you immediately regret your pace, your head tender from the night before.

Scanning your surroundings for a minute, a little seed of disappointment plants itself when you realise you’re alone, no Texan man in sight.

You swipe across the screen, putting your phone on loud speaker before you faceplant back into your pillow.

“Hello?”

”Good morning, princess.” You can hear the sarcasm dripping from your best friend’s voice. “I was gonna call you last night to see how your date went with the contractor but I’m guessing due to my 5 unread texts that it went quite well, hm?”

Stretching your body like a cat in the sun, you grab your phone and lay it on the pillow next to you, feeling like you’re at a sleepover.

“It went well, yeah.” You hear the smile through your voice before you realise it’s there. “He is so fucking hot, got that Mr Darcy stoic thing about him but he is definitely a dark horse.” You turn to lay on your tummy. “Honestly, it got to just about closing time at the bar and I didn’t want it to end. We got back to my place and he went full fucking caveman. And his dick is fucking gian-“

Your soul leaves your body as you hear a hoarse throat clear. Flipping around you see a fully clothed Joel with two cups of coffee hovering at the threshold of your bedroom door. With no notice you hang up the phone, shoving it somewhere in the bed before sitting upright.

“I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t want to subject you to the uncaffeinated version of me too early.” His movements are slow, shy almost as he hands over the cup and perches himself on the side of your bed.

“I thought you pulled an Irish goodbye on me.” You take a long sip, peering over the ceramic as you drink, the sarcasm shield firmly intact.

“And miss seeing your Cookie Monster T-shirt in the daylight? I don’t think so.” He teases, reaching for the hem of your shirt which grazes your mid thigh.

“I had a lot of fun last night.” He rests his giant warm palm on your leg, his brown eyes almost doe like.

“Me too. Think you finally broke my curse of bad dates, pretty.” You set the mug on your nightstand.

Joel flushes at the nickname, immediately taking him back to last night's events. Placing his mug next to yours, he scoots forward, cradling your jaw and placing a sweet, chaste kiss on your lips.

Unable to resist, he deepens the kiss. His big fingers thread through the mess of tangled curls as his breathing becomes heavier.

Pulling away, he keeps your faces close together as he scans your sleepy features. A goofy looking grin works its way across his face as he chuckles softly.

“What?”

He shakes his head softly, the smirk not letting up. “Can I have your number?”

Your head bows slightly, falling to rest on his broad chest as a silent laugh works its way through your shoulders. The sex last night was incredible, not the typical first time timidness so the thought of this man not having your number seems so ridiculous.

Joel presses a kiss into your hair, inhaling that scent that now makes something stir at the base of his spine.

Sunday afternoon rolled in slowly. Joel stayed for a hearty breakfast of cocoa puffs before heading back home, the impression of him lasting through the sweet ache in between your thighs.

Your current boyfriend, the high fairy king, had just slayed the mortal who spoke ill of his mate as a notification pops up on your phone from the Texan himself.

[image attached]

damn, that looks so good

I’m jealous

Last night work you up an appetite?

certainly did

it is good

but it’s got nothing on what I ate last night

The smile on your face had your cheeks hurting. Last night was not a normal first date. The level of attraction and passion you’d felt was nothing you’d ever experienced.

Rolling your head to rest on the top of your couch, you can’t imagine any date going better than your one with Joel. It makes you anxious but in a way where it feels like butterflies in your stomach.

Before you can reply to Joel your phone pings again, but this time the message from your best friend.

Okay gentleman Joel might’ve been good but just wait for first date number two before you make up your mind.

This is Javier. 🙂‍↕️😮‍💨😚😋🫠

Clearing your throat you look at the image of date number two.

Think I should give him a shot.

For science. 🙂‍↕️🤓

npt/ tag list 🏷️ @gothcsz @chasingthepoguelife @mandaloriankait @probablyreadinsmut @half-moon16 @brittmb115 @noisynightmarepoetry @maried01 @witchy-and-persnickity @drunk-and-capable @angiewatson @toshatoshalopez @qutequeersstuff @indiegirlunited @jolalibrary @sheepdogchick @regularjoel @iknowisoundcrazy

[taeyongdoyoung]

intro (infected)

summary: your attempts to find out the identity of your stalker lead you right where you least except... characters: reader, heeseung, sunoo and sunghoon genre: thriller, dark romance(-ish) warnings: themes of stalking, non-consensual photography, blood-covered dolls, stealing clothes, invasion of privacy, breaking in, toxic characters, betrayal, knife, drugging, kidnapping, etc. please PLEASE read at your own risk author's note: the title is inspired by this amazing song and the story itself is strongly influenced by my dreams and insta/tiktok edits of enha lmao; also this is the first part in a trilogy part two & part three word count: 2.3k

You feel like you're losing your goddamn mind. The last month has been the worst of your life. You literally dread coming home to another one of your stalker's "surprises". Sometimes it's photos of you taken from afar. Sometimes you return to your apartment only to find clothes of yours missing. Sometimes you receive little "gifts". Like creepy dolls covered in blood. So sweet.

Why haven't you called the police, one may ask? Well, you've heard of similar cases and the truth is, the police never take women's complaints seriously. They always make up some bullshit excuse about there not being enough proof. Or they try to make it seem as if the woman was somehow "asking for it" by leading some guy on or whatever.

So, you're stuck in this situation, being horrified of returning to your home every fucking evening. You can't afford to move out right now so, there goes nothing. However, you honestly don't imagine continuing to put up with this any longer. Therefore, you decide to take some action.

There are only two people other than you who have a key to your place. Thus, there are only two suspects you can think of.

Suspect number one. Your loving, doting, precious boyfriend Heeseung. You cannot possibly imagine him doing something so vile. Plus, he already has you. There would be no motive for him to stalk you and send you weird stuff and steal your clothes. True, he can be kinda possessive sometimes but nothing that would raise any red flags. He cannot be your stalker, you are pretty much convinced.

Suspect number two. Your adorable, sweet, younger best friend Sunoo. Once again, you cannot picture him being behind this. And yet...sometimes he has this resting psycho face clouding his usually adorable features. You don't wanna judge him hastily and without any proof. But sometimes he looks kinda dangerous. You know it's not his fault, he was just born like that. You have to investigate somehow and get to the bottom of this.

So, like the fool you are, you share your concerns with suspect number one.

"I have a stalker," you admit to your boyfriend one afternoon while you're watching a movie on the couch.

"What?!" Heeseung exclaims in shock.

Okay, his reaction seems surprised enough. There's no way he's acting.

"For the past month I've been receiving pictures of myself, as well as some creepy dolls covered in blood. Oh, and some of my clothes have gone missing."

"That's crazy! Why haven't you reported it to the police yet?" Heeseung asks, holding your hand, deeply worried about your well-being.

"Ugh, as if the police will do anything to take my case seriously. I'll figure it out myself. Well, with your help, hopefully."

"Of course, anything you need, I'm here for you," Heeseung promises.

"So, actually, you're suspect number one," you chuckle, not at all concerned Heeseung is behind this. He cannot be.

"I am?" he laughs. "Darling, I hope you know I would never-"

"I know," you cut him off with a trusting smile. "But you're one of the two people, other than me, who has a key to my place. And there was no sign of a broken door or window, so, whoever it is, obviously owns a key."

"Who's the other suspect, then?"

"Sunoo," you confess.

"Sunoo?!" Heeseung can't help but laugh again. "There's no way. He's a total angel. I just can't see it."

"Yeah? I lowkey see it, he has this creepy face every once in a while. He could totally pull this off," you reason.

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"I'm gonna confront him. Judging by his reactions, I'll be able to determine if it's him."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Heeseung immediately offers.

"Nah, that might intimidate him and he may not be as honest as I'd like him to be. Don't worry, we'll meet in a public space, just in case."

"Uhh, I'm not sure if you feel better but sure. Call me rightaway if you need help."

"I will, I promise," you smile fondly and kiss your boyfriend on the cheek.

The following day, you are sitting in a café with your best friend Sunoo, sharing mint choco ice cream that is a favourite of you both.

"So, I have a confession to make," you blurt out, mouth still full. "I have a stalker."

"Oh my God!" Sunoo exclaims dramatically.

"Yeah...I keep receiving weird objects and photos of myself. Also, some of my stuff have gone missing in the past month."

"The hell?! That sounds terrifying, why haven't you contacted-"

"The police?" you snicker coldly. "They won't help me, I'm on my own."

"Well, you've got me!" Sunoo replies enthusiastically.

"That's funny, because you're one of my suspects."

"Me?" Sunoo pouts adorably. "Y/Nnie...I wouldn't do something like that to you."

"I'd really like to believe that, Sunnie, but you kinda scare me sometimes, not gonna lie."

"Hey! It's not my fault my face does that thing when I'm not smiling. I promise I'm not your stalker!" he gets a little too passionate in convincing you.

"To be honest, I don't really think it's you."

"Who's your other suspect, then?"

"Heeseung," you shrug. "He's the only other person who has a key to my place."

"It's not him," Sunoo responds confidently.

"That's exactly what he said about you!" you cry out.

"Why are you not suspecting him, though?" Sunoo eyes you suspiciously.

"Well, if it was him, he would be quick to place the blame on someone else, you, for example. Therefore, it cannot be him."

"Ooor, he's only defending me to mislead you into thinking he's the good guy."

"I'm not sure that's the case," you shrug it off.

"Okay, then, are you confident we are the only two people who can access your place so easily?"

You try to think deeper about it. And suddenly it hits you. There was one other person who used to have a key to your place. But he gave it back. A week after you broke up with him for punching your friend (at the time) Heeseung for "staring at you" and "flirting" all the time. A week would have given him plenty of time to make a copy of said key.

"Sunghoon used to have a key to my place," you say out loud.

"Your ex?" Sunoo's eyes widen in shock.

"But he gave it back...a week after we broke up."

"He could have made a spare, that's really easy nowadays."

You nod in agreement.

"What are you going to do? Now that you have your primary suspect?" Sunoo asks.

"I'm not going to sleep. One of these nights he'll show up and I'll be ready to confront him."

"That sounds dangerous. Wouldn't you feel better if Heeseung and I were there with you?" Sunoo suggests warmly.

You shake your head.

"I have you guys on speed dial. If something bad happens, I'll call you rightaway."

"You have us on speed dial and yet we were your two suspects. The loyalty is dead," Sunoo tsks disapprovingly.

"Hey! It's not my fault you'd make a good psycho character in a kdrama," you try to joke to alleviate the tension.

"Damn right, I would."

Three nights later and you've drunk more coffee than is probably normal. You're so stoked there's no way you'll fall asleep. But you are tucked under the covers on the couch, pretending to be sleeping. Honestly, it'd be kinda disappointing if no one shows up. You must be crazy. Are you seriously looking forward to confronting your stalker, whoever he is? It's probably Sunghoon. You'd be pretty shocked if it was Sunoo or God forbid, Heeseung. You love them too much to expect something so creepy coming from them.

After what feels like forever, you finally hear it. The sound of the front door being unlocked. Slowly, almost impossible to notice. You curse yourself for being such a heavy sleeper. If you had been awake some of the previous nights, you would have caught him sooner. You wouldn't have had to put up with this for an entire month.

Your heart is beating so rapidly you feel like you're going to die any moment now. In retrospect, this probably wasn't the greatest idea. You probably should have notified the police just in case. Oh well, it's too late now.

Steps. Approaching. Slowly. Then, faster. Fuck. He's not gonna...Is he? The sheets you're hidden under are removed in one swift movement. He is.

"Miss me, princess?" Sunghoon asks, his voice as velvety as you remember.

You can't find the strength to say anything, let alone scream. You were right! It was Sunghoon all along!

"Missed me so bad you waited for me on the couch?" he teases you, running a gloved hand down your cheek.

Sooo far from the truth. You just wanted to know who was tormenting you. You didn't miss him at all. All he ever did was bitch about you spending too much time with Heeseung. He was a jealous, insecure wreck and all of that somehow manifested into the current predicament you found yourself in.

"Nah, just wanted to see who's been leaving me all these presents," you try to keep your composure.

"I'm surprised it took you so long to figure it out," Sunghoon chuckles darkly. "I thought you were smarter than that. Did you seriously think that dork Heeseung would be capable of something so wicked?"

"That dork is a much better person than you are," you spit out. Okay, probably not the best idea to confront him right now. Stupid Y/N...

"Hmm, is that why you cheated on me with him?" Sunghoon sighs wistfully.

"I never cheated on you, I started dating Heeseung three months after our breakup."

"Three months. Couldn't even wait a year. You're so cruel," Sunghoon pouts and sits next to you on the couch, making himself at home.

"I'm not the cruel one, terrifying my ex-girlfriend. Move on, Sunghoon. I have."

"Have you? Then, why haven't you thrown away the little gifts I gave you?"

How did he know they're safely tucked away underneath your bed? How many times has he been here without your knowledge?

"As evidence," you reply dumbly.

"Evidence you don't plan to submit," Sunghoon teases you.

"I will submit it if you don't stop."

"Why are you even giving me a chance? Obviously, you haven't moved on. Obviously, you wanted to see me again, didn't you?" Sunghoon caresses your cheek and you want to push him away, you really do. But it feels so nice, the coldness sending chills down your spine. Maybe you're just as sick as him.

"Obviously, you are delusional," you roll your eyes. You just have to keep talking to distract him.

You remind yourself that your hand is stuffed in your pocket, clutching your phone tightly. You could easily call Heeseung or Sunoo without Sunghoon noticing. They could be here in minutes as they live nearby. The question is who to call? If you call Heeseung whom Sunghoon is so jealous of, you are afraid that Sunghoon might be carrying some kind of weapon and Heeseung might get hurt. You are fairly certain that Sunghoon wouldn't hurt you physically but you are worried about your boyfriend.

Sunoo, on the other hand...Though he doesn't look physically threatening, him showing up might be a better idea. His angelic demeanour may lead to a diplomatic dialogue. Besides, Sunghoon's always had a soft spot for Sunoo. He wouldn't hurt him, right? So, without thinking too much into it, you call him.

"Am I though?" Sunghoon tilts his head to the side in a way you used to adore. Fuck. "Admit it, if I wanted to really hurt you, I would have. And if you wanted me out of your life, you would have filed for a restraining order or something. Since neither of us did any of those things, that means there's still a chance you crave me in your life, isn't there?"

"You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m going back to you."

Sunghoon grits his teeth angrily, but doesn’t say anything. You really should stop saying things that will make him mad but then again, your biggest flaw has always been excessive honesty. When you broke up with Sunghoon, you were explicitly clear why his behaviour was making you upset and that his jealousy was in the core of it all. At the time, you really viewed Heeseung only in friendly light so Sunghoon’s anger towards him appeared unfounded. Now, however…you were, in fact, dating Heeseung. So, clearly, Sunghoon would believe he’d been worried for a reason.

"Oh, princess, what makes you think you have a choice?"

Moments later, your strained conversation is interrupted by Sunoo who just lets himself in as Sunghoon conveniently left the door wide open.

"Sunoo, thank God, you’re here!" you exclaim even though you are perfectly aware that Sunoo wouldn’t be able to defeat Sunghoon in a physical fight. You just hope that his precious smile is enough of a weapon to get Sunghoon to leave you alone.

"Hi, sunshine," Sunghoon greets him calmly as if his arrival comes as no surprise. Wait a second…

"Hey, hyung," Sunoo responds and instead of being comforted by his appearance, you feel sudden dread upon seeing his angelic features slowly transforming into psychotic ones.

"Since when were you two so friendly?" you try to rack your brain. Back when you were dating Sunghoon, you never noticed anything. Did Sunoo like him?

"Since we share a common goal," Sunoo smiles softly at you, making you even more creeped out, as he pulls a blade from his pocket. What the fuck?!

"Aww, Sun, don’t scare her just yet," Sunghoon scolds the younger man gently. "We’ll have plenty of time to play with her later."

Sunoo is working together with Sunghoon?!?!

You try to make a run for it but you’re too slow so Sunghoon and Sunoo capture you quickly. Sunghoon’s holding you strongly from behind, while Sunoo is caressing your neck with the blade, not drawing blood, just messing with your head.

"Are you gonna be a good girl or do we have to drug you?" Sunoo asks sweetly.

You struggle against them but it is of no use. They’re too powerful and you were too foolish.

"Bad girl, it is," Sunghoon answers coldly and presses a piece of clothing against your mouth and nose, making you feel dizzy and sleepy. Fuck.

You really should have called Heeseung.

To be continued…

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

So I 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your casual arrangement turns a bit too serious.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“It was great to talk,” you shake Nick’s hand. “I’ll send you the details?” 

“Wonderful,” he squeezes as his lips slant in his characteristic half-smirk. His eyes remind you of another bold blue pair but you’re trying not to think of him. “I look forward to doing business together.” 

“Let’s aim for a follow-up next week. Make sure everything’s on track,” you confirm. 

“I like that. Very straight to the point,” he muses. 

“As nice a company-paid dinner is, I’m sure you’re dying to get home,” you say. 

“Maybe... if I wasn’t going home alone.”  

You hesitate. His little comments keep popping up. It’s expected. It comes with being a woman. You’ve done your best to ignore them but that one is too pointed to miss. 

“Again, appreciate doing business,” you pull your hand away. “Have a lovely night.” 

“Maybe next time,” he calls after you. 

You walk away, focusing on your posture as you keep rigid. It wouldn’t do any good to show your discomfort. You’re not sure what it is but lately, you’ve been like catnip to men. Something about you is drawing them all in. 

You raise your hand to flag a cab but your arm is caught and pulled back. You yipe as Bucky pulls you to face him. Holy shit!  

“What-- Bucky?! You scared me. You—you scared me.” It’s all you can stutter as your shrill voice scratches in your throat. “God!” You yank on your arm but he keeps a firm grip. You hit his other shoulder with your fist, “let me go. What are you doing?” 

“Who was that, huh? Thought you weren’t looking for anything serious.” He snarls. 

“Ow,” you finally rip your wrist free, rubbing your sleeve as you lean back on your heel. “I’m not. That was a work dinner.” 

“Oh yea? Cause it didn’t sound like just work.” 

“You-- you’ve been watching me?” You accuse. 

“I happened to pass by. Couldn’t help but overhear,” he scoffs. “You sitting there in that dress. I couldn’t look away.” 

“We agreed that this is over,” you insist. 

“I didn’t agree to shit. You pulled the rug out from under me.”  

“What are you talking about?” You bluster hotly. “This was never—it was always going to end. You know that. Why are you complicating this?” 

“Me, complicating it? It didn’t have to end. We were having fun,” he spits. 

“No, I wasn’t. I’m too busy for all that. So are you. I can’t have you stopping by in the middle of the night all the time or—or walking into my office after hours. Don’t you see that it was getting... too much?” You shake your head. 

“Too much? It’s exactly what you wanted. You said you wanted spontaneity. You wanted me. You liked it. All those time when you were under me, you couldn’t get enough. You always begged for more--” 

“Just stop. Bucky, we could be friends, we could hang out but I can’t keep doing that. I don’t have the energy and it’s getting scary.” 

“Scary? Oh so now I’m some monster? Huh?” 

“That’s not what I mean--” 

“No, I get it. You see me and you see this,” he raises his metal hand and wiggles his fingers. “You see what they all see.” He snaps his hand down. “You haven’t even caught a glimpse of what I was.” 

“Why-- why are you doing this? I wasn’t mean. So why--” 

“Doll,” he squares his shoulders and steps closer. He’s never called you that. He’s never been one for petnames when he isn’t buried inside you. “I’m not doing anything. I’m standing here talking to you. But think about what I could do?” He stops and you take another step back. He snorts, “I can your fucking heartbeat. You really think I’d hurt you?” 

“Right now, I don’t know what you’re going to do.” You utter. 

His blue eyes turn dull as his pupils dilate. He gets closer and huffs through his nose, “you won’t even talk to me like I’m a person.” 

“Bucky--” 

“You used me. You treat me like some dog you can throw out.” He takes one step and you take one back.  

“No, we had an understanding. We were just messing around--” 

“You’re messing around!” He barks as your back hits a pole. “And now it’s my turn.” He grins and raises a hand. You wince and he gently caresses your cheek with his knuckles. “You want me to be him, hm? Not Bucky, the other guy. You wanna see him? You wanna see how nice I’ve fucking been.” 

You whimper and shrink down, “please, I’m sorry. I know it was sudden but I thought--” 

He grabs your jaw and squeezes and you whine. Your legs buckle as you brace the iron street pole. 

“You thought fucking wrong. You didn’t think. Not about me.” His fingers tighten and your jaw aches. You slap your hand around his wrist. “Now, you will. I’m not going to let you go. Not forever. Tonight, you get to walk away but you’re going to be thinking of me. You’re going to check over your shoulder, behind your shower curtain, under your desk. You’re going to be watching and waiting for me because, doll, you won’t see me right in front of you and you won’t be able to stop me.” 

You shudder as he lets you go. You cling to the pole to keep from folding into a trembling heap. He stretches his fingers out as he examines his hand and turns to face the traffic. He chuckles as he steps up to the curb and motions for a taxi. You just stand there. 

A cab pulls up and he opens the door, “get home safe, doll. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure no one else bothers you.” 

[nqueso-lies]

I wrote this out over the course of 2 hours, taking multiple breaks. Hoping I've written something you could understand. I don't remember the last time I came to you to vent like this... it's not an easy one. To have express or probably to read. Sorry in advance. You can disregard this, I'd understand. I'm gonna hold on to this ask for a bit and if I actually sent it then...

It's been a few hours by now and I can honestly say I will never be about to watch this episode again because of these Eddie scenes and how those stans are positively reacting towards his actions with Buck.

As it was playing live if felt uncomfortable but angry in a way that made me scoff as the scenes came on. Simultaneously reading the first batch of posts as others were live blogging along I was just as snarky to Eddie's behavior and by the end of the episode I was just fully pissed off that I had to log off because something about how I felt watching it all was different than most other uncomfortable scenes I've experienced watching this show and I think I was trying to convince myself that I was just "mad" at those scenes solely this episode because I enjoyed everything else about the episode, it was another 911 episode you know... and I thought I calmed down enough to come back a read everyone else opinions and reviews and... seeing people breakdown those "Buddie scenes" made me sick, from all sides. I didn't even know I was crying until I just kept reading post after post from multiple people explaining how harmful, manipulative, and abusive his behavior was. Then on the flip side, I saw multiple shippers say "how romantic" and "Buck deserved that! Go Eddie!" and I had to run to the bathroom to throw up. Took me a few to stop shaking and rethink everything. Everyone's analysis, well not everyone but yeah, of Eddie was spot one. So spot on that it triggered flashbacks to a few people in my life who traumatized me. Just like Eddie. Similar experiences, similar traumas, similar volatile excuses, same explosion reactions, same manipulation, same tactics. Same guy. And then... how Buck was treated, has been treated repeatedly... fck me man. Smh. Seeing Eddie be so beloved by those people even though he has so many red flags and has yet to change but still gets praised and romanticized live during those scenes was shameful. This whole "we're so back! we're definitely getting canon buddie after this!" is embarrassing and hurtful. It gave me a similar feeling when the Doug and Maddie episodes first aired... discomfort.

I personally stand by ship what you want but witnessing awful actions in real time repeatedly for years and people wholeheartedly putting every bit of hatred into trying to justify it as the only optimally correct ship there is because they think it's "ok" or "romantic" or "so married" like it's "healthy" and "deserving" or "a turn on" ... Never again can I watch that episode or rematch any episode with him and look at his character the same slack. Could I ever say I fully love him or that he was my favorite? No, but I don't think I've ever fully thought or fully believed he was irredeemable or scum. I think every character had/has major flaws and was complex and complicated but I can't at this moment forgive him as a character just yet... Maybe ever.

I see daily how other characters are framed because they haven't been deemed redeemable by stans for whatever it may be and people seem to just hate any redemption arc on this show in general. Valid or invalid. What's it to me? Usually not much. I protect my peace, roll my eyes, block, don't engage, and move on but this time, for this particular episode, seeing people defend him, truly defend him has me visibly and physically disgusted. This fandom has disappointed me so much I'm usually not fazed at their antics but this episode...

Eddie has truly ruined my experience and everyone supporting him in these particular scenes and justifying his past actions as a whole and still seriously shipping him with Buck... fucking gross.

I tried to rationalize the "that's not abusive" by saying well maybe it's ok or fine they can't relate or understand why what happened is triggering because why would I want everyone to relate to any ounce of what I'm feeling? But let's be fcken for real. The lack of simple intelligence and sympathy and disregard for others because they don't want to admit Eddie has a pattern and that pattern is what is legally, morally, technically whatever the fck ever, is abuse. All because accepting that would mean having to admit Eddie has been the truly unchanged unforgivable evil character they have been dragging for over a year, that in reality he'd be the worst possible opinion for Buck or anybody to date atm and Buck deserves better like they been preaching, that they are the ones with a flawed ship that makes no sense, that they falsely created a picture of what abuse was for Tommy but in reality, it's been a projection of Eddie all along, that they willing harassed and be vile to anyone who doesn't like their ship built on no based but insecurities, jealousy, and lies... That they have been wrong. That they are the ones that don't actually care about anything but "two guys kissing"

I keep reading over these posts calling people "over dramatic" "weak" "sensitive" "pathetic" and "liars" for seeing, understanding, and admitting what happened, not only tonight but multiple times, canonically mind them, that Eddie is not that spectacular, caring, romantic person they so desperately created in fanfiction, behavior that would never be expectable in real life, that it's not "hot and sexy" ... Ships with toxic dynamics aren't wrong... when you opening can admit they are toxic and aren't hiding the truth for what it is. You don't have to have a socially moral or ethical reason for shipping what you ship but to start multiple smear and hate campaigns about things that they so loudly despise even when 98% of it is made up and dumb... a Henley, really? A kink "joke" Buck started himself, really? But Eddie's years of volatile behavior, gaslighting, manipulation, using his child to "make things better" and do it on repeat and be comfortably stunted by refusing to get help and actually stick to change because that means he can get away with it again and who frankly is one of the most selfish people in general, who has done all these things to multiple people he's "cared" about...

His grief and experiences don't make it more okay. Hurt or abused people can unfortunately end up repeating the same behavior that hurt them for many reasons. It still is inexcusable if they do. Eddie has been written to ignore acceptance, growth, and responsibilities. That's how he was created. He could change but he hasn't and by that design that performance highlighted another instance people can add to the list. Something that personally could cause someone with 15 years of therapy, coping skills, and reflection to see one scene and feel like they're reliving an experience all over again.

Eddie was scary but people believing he isn't is probably worse. Having people point out with proof of the history and trying to explain to others and seeing the rejection and defense for a fictional character is... something broke in me this episode. I don't think I'll feel the same watching the show again. I wish I couldn't relate to Buck. I wish I wasn't scared for him because I didn't trust Eddie in that moment not to do another irrational thing. I wish Eddie was written differently. I wish stans would stop "trying to win." I wish I never started this show 7 ago had I known this would be the experience I'd being dealing with now. I wish they hadn't just permanently ruined something for me.

*had a terrible night thinking this over, and I think at this point I just feel numb to it all but I still stand with this.

I don't want to take away from anything you've said ❤️🫂 just know I'm giving you a digital hug, Annie!

[shiny-jr]

Heya sorry to disturb ya but talking about AI, how to notice if the writing are ai or not? Imma reader so yeah :P

Sure! I'm really glad that the whole AI discussion seems to actually be making a sort of change here. I sorta expected for my words to fall on deaf ears, but that is not the case. So that makes me really happy!

Anyways, just to make this extra thorough, I consulted with the council (my writing mutuals) to ask their opinions on the best way to tell between AI writing and real writing. To some it may come across as an easy difference to spot, but to others it may not be so obvious. So I hope this does help you and others pick apart the AI from the real work!

AI Art

Red flag number one. To me, this is the most obvious sign. As AI art is a bit more obvious to see. There's usually inconsistencies in lighting, awkward lines, too shiny, oversaturated, etc. If you see someone use AI art as a cover for their story or within the chapters, the user is likely using AI in other ways too. If they're okay with using AI in art, they're probably okay with using AI in writing. Which isn't okay.

2. Pacing

This is also a big one. Writers are busy, we got lives and things to do, believe it or not. So if you see a story or account that's just pumping out heaps of content in a small amount of time, that is highly suspicious.

Of course there's people who can write a lot in a short amount of time or who have the time to write frequently, but I can tell you, if you see a story less than a year old that has HUNDREDS of pages of content, something about that is off. Usually, not all the time, it's AI. Because it's very quick for people to just type prompts and get the AI to make tons of content in a small amount of time when real work actually takes a lot of time.

Just check out the frequency of updates and the amount that is being given with each update, and you can probably make logical conclusions from there.

3. Author Notes/Comments

This is a hit or miss, but I've noticed a pattern here. From the AI fics that I've seen, I assume that most of them are written by users who did not have English as their first language. How can I tell? Their words.

These users might leave a note or a comment, and sometimes it's hardly readable, other times it is readable but there's a lot of mistakes in basic words, and on occasion their English is good but there's still flaws. Yet somehow, they can write pages and pages of a story with perfect English? Yeah, that don't make sense.

4. Writing Style

This is a lengthy one, as there's a lot of telltale signs in the writing itself that can reveal whether or not it's written by AI. I'll be breaking this down into more parts, just because there's a lot here.

Definitions - For this one, I'll give an example, without going into specifics of titles or anything. However, I saw a story recently, where something happened. And the line essentially went "And the crowd gasped– a collective intake of breath." See what's wrong with this line? Why are we, the readers, being told the definition of a gasp? People should know what that is. There's no reason for that to be there. So if a written portion includes a word, then defines what that word is, something is wrong.

Emotion - AI work is very stiff, robotic. It does not portray emotion well, if at all. As I mentioned once before, there's no passion in it. Any emotional scenes AI does write, feels very stale and lifeless. It doesn't invoke emotion as it should.

Characterization - This one is iffy. AI work tends to get characters wrong, like they'll make dialogue for a character but that character would never say that. Or they'll make a character do something but the character would never do that. Things like that. It's because AI doesn't truly grasp characters. The most it'll do is if given a set of character traits, it'll try to emulate that character solely based off the given traits, but often come up with multiple flaws and just totally get the character wrong. However, I say that is iffy because people do write characters differently. Sometimes, people totally write a character wrong and it's not AI.

Vocabulary - Another iffy one, but in all the AI works I've seen, they tend to try to use a high level vocabulary. Iffy because some real writers do write very eloquently with high vocabulary, but usually with AI, it sounds like an essay. You can also include excessive descriptions on this, especially descriptions that don't matter and have no real importance to the story. AI does that a lot.

Tone Shifts - AI doesn't have good memory, for the most part, so they can change tones of the story very quickly that it might seem jarring and out of place. If you look closely, this'll reveal if it's AI or not, especially is the tone shift is accidental and caused by the AI messing up. This can included repeated phrases, which also might seem out of place. It can especially be seen in chapter stories, as one chapter might read or feel a certain way and the next chapter reads completely different. There's no consistency.

Focus - AI tends to focus on tell. Tell and not show, when most writers try to focus on show don't tell. Here's an example, since this one might be hard to conceptualize. AI might write something like "He looked around suspiciously" versus a person who might write "He avoided eye contact, glancing around at anything else but you." See the difference? The first example is tell, the second example is show don't tell.

Long sentences - I have yet to have seen an AI fic with short sentences. All AI fics I've seen thus far have the tendency to write in long sentences.

Okay, I think I covered the basics of everything that was mentioned. At least, that's all that was brought up and could be thought of. I sincerely hope this helps, y'all. Remember, support real writers, not AI users ✨

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Now don't throw tomatoes at me but I'm actually really excited to finally see malleus again— I've always loved malleus since we met him in the story, but I'm also sooo curious about what's gonna happen next,, I'm wondering the obvious thing, about whether or not we might get a parralel scenario like what happened with the KoD and silver will have to "slay" malleus or at least be the one to land a killing blow, but I also saw a really interesting post focusing on how magic is a manifestation of dreams and deep desires and imagination,,,, in that case, I may (VERY delusionally) hope that Yuu finally gets to be a major part of the story for once??? Even reading the novels, there HAS to be something bigger for yuu— while the idea of crowley simply being an incompetent airhead is fun and more comfortable, haven't you thought that meybe he pulled them into this world deliberately??

All to say, what if at some point, Yuu somehow manifests magic in a very dire moment ?? You know lol?? Agh idk. I just want yuu to finally make impactful choices but that IS too much to ask, as far as we can see for now,,, (but hey, that part leading up to ace getting is UM, and the convo between him and yuu,,, it *does* give one a sliver of hope, doesn't it? :') )

Don't worry, no tomato throwing here! 😅 I may not care for certain characters, but I’m not going to shame anyone that does. You’re free to think however you want about Malleus!

dbjsvsJcwhj My personal feelings about him aside, I am actually glad he’s finally relevant to the main story again. He’s missed out on so much of his own book OTL In the time he’s been gone, the fandom has been left to speculate about both his and Lilia’s potential death flags. I really doubt Twst will have the balls to kill off one of them, but it would be cool to at least see Silver delivering the final blow to knock some sense into (not necessarily kill) OB Malleus.

Yes, it’s true that Silver states in the recent update that magic was originally considered “a miracle borne of strong desires from the heart.” But 💦 I don’t think that means Yuu would randomly manifest magic in the final fight?? It feels more like a “let’s save the day with the power of friendship” to me, but I could of course be wrong.

I understand being frustrated that Yuu’s participation in the main story seems to fluctuate a lot, with most of their activity being books 3, 4, and segments of 1, 6, and 7. That’s not much, especially considering how long books 6 and 7 are. Sometimes (even in events) it feels like Yuu is barely there, as most dialogue options don’t involve different reactions from the characters. Even Yuu's quest to find a way home is barely addressed or taken seriously until early in book 7. Yuu hasn't gotten "real" development unless you count them realizing their Disney dreams are prophetic in book 5, taking the initiative to save Grim in book 6, and that dialogue option about them being worried they're not contributing + the related convo with Ace in book 7. All very short moments in the grand scheme of things. And honestly, I think that makes sense for the kind of character Yuu is. A blank slate, a self-insert, an outsider that's easy to exposit information to, someone with which to view the story, characters, and world through. Yuu is primarily there to be the POV character, the lenses, the camera that we see Twst through. They're not really meant to be a traditional "main character". It's possible that Twst gives them a slightly bigger role at the very end (especially with what went down in the dream in book 7), but I doubt it will be a huge triumphant moment where they and they alone save the day or deal the final blow in a crazy act of self-sacrifice. Twst has always been a story that puts the NRC boys first, while Yuu is the observer.

I've noticed that the complaint of Yuu not doing a lot in the story comes mainly from English speaking fans?? And I guess that makes sense, given how western culture tends to emphasize independence and standing out. They want Yuu to reflect that. They want to be the ones to make a difference. I don't even remember ever seeing these same comments from the Japanese speaking fans; it's definitely a less common sentiment for them. The Japanese fans seem pretty content with Yuu being an observer and taking on more of a minor or supporting role. Again, this fits in with what I understand of many eastern cultures. They're demurer, not wanting to stand out too much from the crowd and instead prioritizing group harmony. Very interesting cultural difference to note!

It's a common theory (with many variants) that Crowley intentionally summoned Yuu to Twisted Wonderland for his own nefarious motives. People found him pretty sus right away due to how he seems to not put in any real time or effort into investigating a way to send Yuu home. Plus, there's that ominous opening monologue of his to consider. However, I don't think he summoned Yuu because of their (potential) great magical capabilities. The Mirror of Darkness tells us that it doesn't sense a shred of magic in Yuu, and Leona smells zero magic on them (though that could be because it hasn't technically manifested yet, as some fans claim).

The idea is that Yuu is supposed to be plain. They are supposed to be magicless. Why? To humble the NRC students and to show them that asserting yourself violently or with great magical power ISN'T the way to go. To show them value in strategizing (which Yuu does in the prologue by helping Grim aim at the ghosts), of camaraderie. What does it say about the story's themes if Yuu, the person who is supposed to be showing them the worth of mundane things, is suddenly... "secretly ultra-strong, actually”/“just like you guys” (even if it's only a temporary hope-fueled magic)? It might contradict what has already been set up. It also breaks the self-insert appeal of Yuu, since developing magic would also mean Yuu would later have to further develop things like proficiency in magic, best/worst subjects, and an unique magic/signature spell... meaning Yuu HAS to become better "defined", thus losing their blank slate nature. This would surely upset some fans who deeply project onto Yuu, have a Yuusona, etc.

Yuu can still make an impact on the characters and the world--and they have, judging by how much closer the boys are with each other--without having to be The Most Special One or like everyone else. I think it undermines what Yuu has already managed to achieve to say that they haven't made an impactful choice at ANY point in the main story when I believe they definitely have. Yuu made the choice to sign the contract with Azul. Yuu made the choice to approach Malleus. Yuu made the choice to go against Crowley's orders and go retrieve Grim from S.T.Y.X. Yuu made the choice to get Leona’s help with the contracts. Yuu made the choice to stand with Adeuce against Riddle in book 1. Yuu made the choice to let the VDC/SDC tribe train at Ramshackle. Yuu has done a lot, and all without needing to seize the spotlight or to do anything big and flashy. I don't think Yuu needs to be big and flashy. There is pride to be had in simplicity and being humble too. There is pride in representing the 90% of humans in Twisted Wonderland that are ordinary and without magic.

(An aside: so if Yuu wasn’t able to manifest magic in many other extreme instances, does that mean their desire to save Grim in book 6 wasn’t “enough”? That their desire to save Ramshackle, their one and only home in this world, wasn’t “enough”? It implies that Yuu didn’t wish hard enough for these other things they clearly care about and want.)

I think a good way to give Yuu a decent role while staying true to their design as a blank slate would be for Twst to really lean into the whole "beast tamer" aspect that was introduced all the way back in the prologue. This would work well with their deep connection to Grim as well. Assuming that Grim ends up being the final OB... We could easily have the NRC students and staff on the ropes, Malleus at his wit's end after exhausting himself with his own OB, a rampaging Grim about to end it all. And then... one lone figure shakily rises from the rubble and confronts Grim. One human. Magicless, defenseless. A human lost in an unfamiliar world, a human who believes they're useless and don't contribute much. A human who is always in need of being protected by others. But not anymore. This time, it's Yuu's turn to protect what they love--their friends, this world they've come to love, Grim. Ace and Deuce yelling at Yuu to not be stupid, to get back--but Yuu just advances, calling out to Grim and begging him to stop. And maybe it's Yuu's wish that rallies everyone and/or gets OB Grim to hesitate. That's when they can strike. Is that corny? Yeah. Does it sound like the ending to a Disney film? Sure. But it still grants Yuu, a magicless human that is supposed to be there to teach everyone about friendship, cooperation, and humility, their big moment to shine. The best of both worlds, I'd say.

[coca-lastic]

Takami Keigo: 5 Red flags vs 5 Green flags

Characters: Takami Keigo (Hawks).

Mi first lenguage is not English btw

Part 2 with Bakugo?

First of all, a relationship with Keigo can go very well or very badly. His life requires a very specific type of person, although he is not one to judge people and prefers to be optimistic when it comes to anything, it must be admitted that a person who is a little more "egoistic" could not stand the schedules, the dangers and harms that come with the hero's work.

In any case, if you are a person who, although you have flaws that might seem out of place with the style of life that has been imposed on Keigo, but you are still a person who is willing to do better, fight and resist for the relationship, believe me that the he will put the same as you and more.

Probably at the beginning there will be many problems, Keigo is not a man used to his life not being just for him, and perhaps you are not used to living with someone like him, but part of a relationship is learning, step by step and with a lot of time, love can change things if you use it well.

Of course, like any person, he has his good things and bad things.

🟥 Red Flags:

• At first he's a very independent and close person: Being independent can be a very good thing and a good sign, but when it comes to Keigo, it is not the same. His independence is too big to be considered a good thing, he has grown up and lived his entire life believing that he is the one against the world and only he has the right to know what is going through his mind, so it wouldn't be the kind of boyfriend who is asking your approval or telling you about his day. But he knows that that is not right, so I firmly believe that he would correct it to the point of telling you his problems.

• He's sarcastic: Come on guys, you could see this coming from the second this hero appeared on the screen and started making the most annoyed faces a face can make. It's not like he does it in a bad way often, but when arguments start he would get on your nerves with his sarcastic comments, probably minimizing the problems or making you look wrong, even stupid in the worst cases.

• You are the priority, but if people need him, he will leave: This is a very extensive topic and contains many reasons. You are the most important thing in his life, if you leave he would be totally devastated and depressed than anyone else could be, but he simply cannot reject the call, if his phone vibrates and they tell him that they need him he will already be acting the hero suit. It's not that he wants to leave you, it's that he can't stay, it's that he has been educated to always leave.

• He is jealous: Normally it is not something that bothers you, it can even be something that the two of you later make fun of in private, but there are some times that if he seems to be intense about it, he is not attracted to the idea of you leave, that you change him or that you abandon him, so although he always tries to keep himself in line, there are few cases in which he goes too far, when he marks someone as his rival he will forever be "the disgusting guy who wants with you", and he could say offensive things about him, start fights so that you stay away from him and even demonstrate his jealousy without any type of shame.

• "Is not that deep": I don't know why, but I'm very sure that Keigo would say this MANY times, like you may have told him that it's something that bothers you, or something that hurt you, or you're just telling him a story, and he responds with the damn "is not that deep." Partly it's because like I said before he won't tell you something just because it happened to him, so he doesn't understand why you're open about it.

OKAY BUT, he has hes beautiful Green Flags and all that, SO let's goOoOooOOoOOOoo

🟩 Green Flags

• He drives you to achieve and fulfill your own goals: He would be a man who not only asks, he also offers, he would never ask you to support him in his goal of a better and more relaxed world for those who are heroes without first supporting you in any goal that you have worn. You need money? He can give it to you, do you need to improve yourself? Ok, here he is to support you, do you just feel tired of trying? Well he will give you a reason to do it again.

• "Let's see each other even if it's just for 5 minutes?": He leads a busy life but he takes you into account in every second of it, it's true that it's hard for him to tell you about it, it's hard for him to open up, but he loves seeing you, even if he doesn't express it correctly, he loves to be there for you even though he may not tell you that he thinks about it, he loves to give you time even if it means more fatigue for his body.

• Stop having attitudes that make you feel bad: Did you read all the previous red flags? WELL HAWKS TROLL YOU BECAUSE HE CHANGE WHAT YOU ASK HIM TO DO, GIRL!!!! He would make an effort because he doesn't take it lightly, it is difficult and takes a lot of time, but he keeps trying.

• "I saw this and I remembered you": I repeat, Keigo takes you into account every second, even if at first he can't express it correctly. But he is a bird, he will bring you any stuffed animal, bracelet, candy, necklace, clothing or toy that he finds in a store and has a detail as beautiful as you.

• Hella touchy: Bro, if you don't consider this a good thing I'm really sorry but what the hell are you doing reading something about Takami Keigo, Get the fuck out of here! He will never have one hand far from you in moments of rest and time as a couple. A simple hand on your thigh while the two of you are eating or while he is finishing work papers, a few light cuddles on your hair while he is falling asleep, a hand on your cheek before kissing you, a hand on your waist to hug you, and if i keep going, I don't finish the list.

[syneilesis]

[fic] Coffee Break

Coffee Break

Love and Deepspace | Xavier (Shen Xinghui) x Main-Character!Reader | G | 1.2k words ao3 link

You buy Xavier a new coffee machine.

A/N: I am so in love with this man. Day 2 of the closed beta test and here I am writing fic lmao. God, I love Shen Xinghui so much. This fic is inspired by his Shimmering Sunlight story. Some spoilers about the main storyline and character-exclusive stories, though nothing too significant. Though I frequently refer to his CN name in my other posts, in this fic I use his EN version -- Xavier.

The box is light in your hands, but the salesperson assured you that weight does not equate to quality. Price, too—because although the Hunters Association is generous with their pay, you don't want to raise flags by taking missions incessantly. Tara's nose for intrigue, of course, is well-known among your circles.

It would be all the worse if Xavier gets in on the gossip too. (You'd have to thank the stars for the man's indifference to workplace drama—and to most in general. Xavier may be airheaded at times but when he's focused on something he is monstrously focused on it. It's impressive, and—well—cute.)

The recommended beans are secured inside your messenger bag. You don't call Xavier this time to give him a heads up. He had, a few days ago, granted you the privilege to enter his home whenever you like, his hand tracing the book spines on the shelf, all the while saying it. He wasn't looking at you, but his tone remained light, playful even, that it prompted you to tease him by pointing out that if he merely wanted an efficient alarm clock, he could just buy one of those state-of-the-art ones sold in major stores. That's when Xavier whirled around to look at you, mirth in his eyes but with a secretive, scheming tilt on his lips.

“I'm coming in,” you announce, regardless, by the door, pushing it in with one hand, and Xavier's voice floats across the hall.

“You're really taking advantage of this, huh.”

“Well, a wise man once said that one must seize every opportunity given their way.”

Xavier emerges from a room in all his cardigan-and-sweatpantsed glory, hair mussed enough to indicate that he's just risen from his bed.

“Good morning!” you chirp.

He glances at the clock—two in the afternoon—and eyes the box in your hands. The caution—and curiosity—is obvious in the lilt of his question. “What's that?”

“For you.”

He takes the proffered item and inspects like it'll explode at any moment. You sigh and retrieve it again, and he follows you when you make your way to the kitchen.

“I already have a coffee machine,” he says, confused, as you begin to clean the gift.

“And it brews bitter coffee.” You spare a glance at him to find that he's watching you. You tap the lid of the machine. “This is a more recent and an undeniably better model.”

“I don't recall asking you to buy one for me.”

“That's because you didn't.” There's a pause where you deliberate telling him your next sentence and facing him directly as you say it. You go for it, in the end. “It's a gift. This is a gift from me to you.”

It doesn't register to him at first—it's as if he's waiting for an explanation that requires the mention of Captain Jenna's orders. But after a blink and a shuffle, it clicks, his eyes widening and he's fully awake all of a sudden.

And when he responds, it seems urgent: “What's the occasion?”

You shake your head. “Nothing—or rather, it's the occasion for drinking good coffee.” The coffee beans make their appearance. “Go sit on the sofa or something while I work this thing out.”

Xavier chuckles. “What—now you're ordering me in my own home?”

“And making you good coffee!”

“You're a guest—even I know that it's rude to have the guest make food or drinks for the owner of the house.”

“It's fine! And besides, I'd like to test this out as soon as possible. Refund and exchange policy only lasts for seven days from the date of purchase. I'd want to know if this works just fine.”

Xavier attempts to protest a little more, but you hold firm. Once he trudges back to the living room, you concentrate on the coffee. The salesperson seemed trustworthy enough when pitching the product, and you really can't forget the time Xavier served you a cup of bitter coffee. Not even three sugar cubes could salvage that unholy concoction.

When it's done, the heavenly aroma wafting along your nose, you test a sip from your own mug. It's a success. Placing the mugs on a tray, you head to where Xavier is.

He's reading a book. Though 'reading' seems to be a stretch because his head bobs twice, his eyelids drooping, the edge of a nap threatening his posture.

“Xavier,” you call him, and his head snaps back to attention. You bite your lip to stave off a laugh. Sitting next to him on the sofa, you put the tray on the table and hand him his own cup. “Try this one.”

A sniff and a tentative sip. And then he hums in approval, now drinking it normally. You smile around the rim of your mug, your eyes falling on his book.

“This is good,” he comments, wearing a smile of his own when he turns to you. “Did you use another kind of coffee beans?”

“Yep. The salesman recommended me another one, and it was the right decision. By the way, why are you reading an instruction manual on building a claw machine?”

“It's nothing,” he says, swiping the item away. There's another book on the table—a collection of short stories—and he snatches that up instead. You recognize the title.

“Oh! I've read that before.”

“Is it good? I haven't read it yet.”

“Yes. I particularly loved the titular story. The suspense buildup was done skillfully and the payoff was perfect.”

“I see, then I look forward to starting it.”

Surprisingly, Xavier begins reading it then and there, occasionally sipping his coffee and turning the page. You, beside him, are minding your own cup, thoughts drifting here and there. Your next mission. New strategies in battle. Your next appointment with Dr. Zayne.

It's when a weight has plopped down your shoulder that you jolt out of your musings: Xavier falling asleep on your shoulder, mug empty, the coffee residues pooling at the bottom, book opened in the chapter of your favorite story.

“Xavier?” you murmur, careful not to startle him if he's truly asleep.

He doesn't stir—only burrows further into the crevice between your neck and shoulder, the puffs of his breath close and warm against your skin.

It would've been cruel to push him away, not when he looks comfortable. And besides, you're afforded an opportunity to study him—so you let him as he is.

From your angle, staring down at his sleeping face, you note of his eyelashes, long and thick and seemingly soft, slightly curved upwards, hovering over his smooth cheeks. They frame the blueness of his eyes very well. They make him even prettier under daylight. You're reminded of the time you and he strolled under the blooming peach blossoms, the pink backdrop highlighting the radiance of his presence, statuesque. He as sublime art itself, rivaling that of Rafayel's paintings—or better yet, surpassing them. And when he smiles—

Unbidden, heat crawls across your cheeks and settles there. Oh no. Oh, no no no.

Oh dear, this won't do.

You swallow, and turn away. Against your neck, Xavier sleeps on, unaware of your unfurling realizations. By the window, a familiar bird perches, twittering under the afternoon sun, a small but melodious background song.

[justchillandshipit]

Here I go again.

Buck asks Eddie if his son is the real reason he doesn't date. Eddie responds with, "That and, they weren't my type."

This has been a flag for everyone who reads the subtext, but let's take a moment to look at the last GIF.

Eddie says they weren't his type. Buck turns around to look at them and probably assesses what makes them, 'not' Eddie's type because the girls were all subjectively pretty. There were also a variety of types of women there.

But look closely at the GIF. Eddie said they weren't his type. While Buck is glancing back, Eddie gives Buck a quick look that really screams, "You are it. You are the type." When I noticed this from the GIF edit, I thought it might be the creator slowing it down, but nope. If I look at the episode, it is the same or nearly the same. This is early season two, and I have always thought, in the early episodes, there was no intent to pair Eddie with Buck as anything but a friend. However, this scene makes me wonder at what point Tim M or whoever was writing changed their minds about adding in a subtextual narrative.

I find it very difficult to see this scene as a heteronormative exchange. In fact, it even feels like Eddie is pushing back a little to test where Buck stands. Buck as a character who lacks self-awareness gives a mixed signal answer. (which tracks with his character at this point and matches his coming-out arc.) **edited to clarify** Buck's mixed signal response to Eddie saying they aren't my type is, "Not mine either, at least not anymore."**

A few seconds later, Buck says Eddie has a weak excuse. My lovely and wonderfully sassy Eddie says, "You live in your invisible girlfriend's house, and you're telling me about weak excuses." He essentially points at Buck's closet door, but of course, this is something that Buck couldn't see or pick up on at the time. These moments are small in the grand scheme of the show as a whole so I'm afraid it will be forgotten. It would be nice to have some sort of throwback acknowledgment that this scene hasn't been retconned.

To backtrack a little bit here, I would also like to point out something else about the early timing or the writing of these characters as potentially queer. They are outside. (True I don't understand the ins and outs of filmmaking so there may very well be a reason for this.) But the shot itself is making them walk close together. Not just close, their shoulders are literally bumping against each other, hitting and knocking at each other in a way that might appear "unintentionally" intimate--until you remember they are outside. It seems to me like there are dozens of ways to shoot this thing that don't require them to be so casually physical with each other. For the scene to be shot like this and then consider the canon conversation that took place, it feels quite intentional that the writers wanted viewers to look closely for something else.

Whenever certain people call Buddie shippers delusional, I think about this. Subtextual language aside, the scenes are shot in such a way as to plant the idea of "More." There is attraction here. There is flirting.

Someone, somewhere wanted to tell this story from the start; and I'm not mad about it. I'm 100% here for it, and I'm ready for it to go down as the most epic love story I've ever watched or read about, but I also admit that I want it to be canon, not so I can throw it in anyone's face that their ship is wrong, but so I can prove I'm not some weirdo putting two hot guys together. I'm seeing a real romance being built. I want that validation as much as I want everyone under the LGBTQ umbrella to see representation for themselves on screen.

If you want to see the scene, go to about 3:05.

[doodler16]

May I ask *how* Mammon from Helluva Boss is bad asexual representation?

I'm ace myself, & have a video script about asexuality I hope to one day be able to produce once I get some recording & editing equipment/software, & analyzed Mammon's appearances so far (so just S2) for it, & I came to the conclusion that he's not as bad as most people say he is when it comes to asexual representation. His ace portrayal is DEFINITELY FLAWED, but not to the degree I think most people make it out to be. To summarize...

1.) He actually has some moments in his debut episode that subtly imply he's ace (while still staying in character with him being a jerk), they're easy to miss to the point one might be able to write them off as plausible unrelated coincidences though; these moments including his deflection about making robots of whoever wins his clown pageant being seen as "weird" at the beginning of the episode, calling his customers "sick degenerate adults" during the Robo Fizz ad, & possibly him not quite understanding the implications when he tells Fizz during the fan-meet, "The better the impression, the more they’ll want a piece of you to take home & fuck! Don’t you want that, Fizzie? To be fucked?!"

2.) When he says in Mastermind, “Oh shut up, you two. We all know you enjoy slumming it with the lower class plebs. Unlike the rest of us, heh. Right Levy?” definitely read as ace to me the first viewing alone.

Most of his moments DEFINITELY needed another pass, especially by an experienced & asexual writer since the stuff he says to Fizz during the fan-meet doesn't read as ace at all, the way he doesn't say anything to Beelzebub about him being ace when she says stuff that shows she either doesn't understand asexuality or just doesn't care to learn anything about him in Mastermind in favor of unnatural dialogue between the two mindlessly insulting each other, & Mammon's dialogue & body language/expressions when he flirts with Leviathan don't read as asexual in the slightest, at least to me.

So what I'd like to know, if possible, is what evidence is there that he's as bad of asexual representation as so many folks seem to imply? The way everyone talks about him (without explaining their reasoning alongside the facts), makes it sound like he's clearly harmful representation with loads of misinformation, but I couldn't find any evidence of something like that when I wrote that part of my script. If there's something really bad about him I've missed, I'd love to add it to my script!

I understand Medrano's personal opinions of asexuality over the years is full of red flags & misinformation (that hopefully she'll finally bury with her potentially being on the ace-spectrum & actively trying to learn more about it), but just looking at Mammon's portrayal alone, is there something I'm missing? I'm approaching this as someone who just wants to learn, so if you can teach me something here & don't mind taking the time to do so, please do!

My main beef with Mammon and his asexuality representation is that it feels like stereotype of what some think asexual people are. Portrayed as selfish jerks who don’t care about others but themselves, inflated ego, etc. It also doesn’t help that Mammon is portrayed as this greedy, disgusting pig (metaphorically and literally) who uses others when it benefits him. I get it, he’s the sin of greed but with the asexual representation added on top of that, it is not a good look but hopefully Vivziepop does a better job handling it when season 3 and 4 comes.

[joeloverture]

whist i get what you are saying about confederate flag, why is it deemed completely okay to write about joel saying that he would have fucked his 15 year old daughter given the chance. this isn’t trying to be hateful, i’m just genuinely curious

okay hi! thank you for being sane about this and actually approaching from a place of wanting to widen your scope. id direct you to @whataperfectwasteoftime for more on the confederate flag stuff. they made a well developed post on that for a much more aggressive version of this ask.

im sure u can guess what’s under the cut so heed any triggers you may have and put u first.

i want to make something clear here that i previously haven’t. i don’t think this fic belonged on tumblr. it’s ambiguous in its TOS whether its actually a violation or not, but since tumblr operates in areas where writing csa is illegal, it was never meant to be here in the first place. ao3? sure. whatever. but this is stirring things up because it was in an unexpected place. tumblr has more rules whereas ao3 is the scarcely contained Wild West of fanfic.

furthermore — i wouldn’t say it’s completely okay. these things have nuance. i read the fic, because I saw something like this coming from down the road considering the fandom climate. i do think the fic was stylistically written in a way that was self aware of the characters mutual destruction of each other. i also think it was intentionally inflammatory in some ways. however, everything was adequately tagged. people were free to move on if it caused discomfort, which i also want to make clear is a normal feeling. whether it be interacting with eroticized fanfiction or fiction in general, it is an inherently uncomfortable feeling sometimes! it’s up to us to determine what agitates our personal limits. i don’t think others should be held responsible for our consumption. what joel said in that fic was repulsive. it was meant to be! i also want to reiterate here that darkfic isn’t for me. dark fiction, though? that’s my shit — and i don’t mean dark romance or a little life, but the same theory can apply to those.

if we begin to crack down on eroticized fanfiction, the terminology they use will bleed into other areas of literature. suddenly the language used to describe a minor in an erotic work (and trust me, the thought of this does nauseate me — emphasis on this not being for me) is forbidden in a work that is raising awareness or telling a story. these may seem like far jumps, but loopholes like this exist everywhere in the law. it is why worries about rights to privacy emerged during roe v wade. especially with the right, famously laden with pedos and their enablers, they will pretend to be protecting people by silencing any dubious erotic work, then trans and queer voices (notice how they are constantly called pedos), and then real csa stories will be suppressed so they can get away with more.

id direct you to a pending law in tx, in which any obscene depiction of a minor or someone who looks like one. (senate bill 20)

big win, right?

nope. it’s far too up to interpretation at the prosecutorial level. scotus actually deemed this unconstitutional in 2003.

it is legal to marry a child in texas. these lawmakers use fiction as their scapegoat to avoid the moral consequences of actions they participate in. laws like this may start at the level of, say, anime or manga. but it very rapidly will spread to appropriate television, art, etc that depicts trans and queer people. and even beyond that.

i worry where this goes. if we don’t speak up now, who will speak up for us when they come for us? because they will.

additionally, fiction ≠ reality. this is an important distinction. fiction can be a powerful tool to explore what we fear, what we have experienced, and what we wish would happen. i cannot police what others do. only what i write and how i respond to their words.

[atomicrebelfire]

🪦 "The Last Alarm" — Grief Isn’t Always Loud

Episode 8x16 of 9-1-1

TL;DR: People grieve differently. 8x16 may not have been loud, but it was deeply respectful. Sometimes grief looks like silence, small stumbles, or just showing up. This episode understood that — and Bobby’s farewell was not a waste. It was honor.

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

“Grief is not always loud. Sometimes, it's the silence that screams the most.”

There’s been a lot of reaction to this episode — some people feeling like Bobby’s funeral was sidelined, or that the story didn’t give the grief enough space. Some wanted bigger emotional moments, more overt breakdowns, or different characters to be centered. That’s valid. Everyone connects to grief in their own way — and not every interpretation will land the same.

But for me, 8x16 wasn’t about loud grief. It was about the quiet kind — the kind that doesn’t look dramatic on the surface, but still hits deep.

Athena’s case wasn’t a distraction. It mirrored her own struggle. A mother clinging to the hope that her child might still be alive. Just like Athena was holding off on saying goodbye. Her final decision — to bury Bobby beside the family he lost before her — was quiet, heavy, and full of love. It wasn’t a side plot. It was her pathway through grief.

We saw Chim struggle with guilt, isolation, and anger. Hen held it together until Karen’s hug undid her. Eddie showed up, silent and grieving. Buck moved through the motions, supporting everyone — but his hands shook when he stood to salute. He stumbled. And that stumble said everything.

Tommy wasn’t just there for show. He helped save the team in the lab. He pulled Bobby from a collapsing floor in a flashback. His presence beside the casket was earned — a nod to how deeply Bobby touched the lives around him.

And the funeral? It wasn’t excessive. It was deserved. The ten bells. The flag. the handing over his service cap. The march. Flying Bobby to Minnesota. These aren’t just traditions. That’s what a firefighter deserves. That’s what a captain deserves. That’s what someone who gave his life in service of others deserves. These aren’t dramatic flourishes — they are part of honoring the sacrifice. And I’m glad the show took time to make that point.

Because first responders — like soldiers, like medics, like anyone who walks into danger so others don’t have to — deserve heroes’ welcomes, and heroes’ farewells. Taking time to show that isn’t a waste. It’s the bare minimum. It’s respect. This show can be messy sometimes. It forgets trauma between episodes. It drops plot threads. But not here. This was purposeful. This was a reminder that 9-1-1 is first and foremost a show about first responders — people who run into danger and sometimes don’t come back.

I know grief. I lost someone deployed in Kabul. It didn’t arrive in sobs or speeches. It came in fragments. It came in silence. It came when we are alone. And that’s what this episode captured — not just sadness, but the shape of mourning. The way it isolates you, even in a crowd.

That’s why the team being apart in 8x15 and 8x16 mattered: Buck in the hallway. Athena behind the glass. Hen and Chim in separate rooms. Tommy in the command center. Ravi outside. Eddie in Texas. Everyone grieving. Everyone alone. some dealing it with anger, some with dissociating, or some with being stoic or some just showing up.

Not every story will land the same. But before calling something hollow, maybe ask if it just portrayed grief in a way you didn’t expect. Not every farewell needs a monologue. Sometimes, all it needs is presence. And this episode gave us that.

Not trying to make this about me. I don’t need validation. I just need sleep. me @ myself after reading too many takes at 2am:

why do i let this stuff get to me? it’s just a show. people are allowed to feel differently. but when i see it reduced to “no one even cried?” or “why waste airtime on the funeral?” — yeah, it stings. maybe it hit home. maybe it reminded me of someone. maybe that’s why i found myself defending a fictional funeral like it was real. i’m okay. really. just… before we throw it all out, maybe pause and ask what the story was trying to say. and if it still didn’t speak to you — that’s okay too. 🌱

[ncillary]

Self Aware AU (Sylus)

Summary: You have the lowest Affinity with Sylus. The reason is because he is a red flag. As red as his eyes. Spawn of the devil. Unless, he is actually not as evil as you label him to be. Does this change something in you? Yes? No? Maybe so?

-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------

Masterlist Self Aware AU

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|  1  |  2  |  3  |  4  |  5 [current]  | 6 |

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*Tap* *Tap* *Khtump*

Every step of the leather shoes echoes profoundly along the dimly lit hallway. Wooden door as tall as his figure was at the end. Long fingers clutched the handle to another room. Sharp eyes met with weathered grey.

"Madam CEO, you should really change the light in the hallways."

"Oh, dear. The sensor works fine just now. I wonder why it doesn't work whenever you stop by, Wingman."

"Can you stop calling me that?"

"Will you stop hanging your jacket loosely on your shoulder like a pair of wings?"

He pursed his lips, "Touché."

She snickered, "And what pleasure do I owe my head of security for this impromptu meeting?"

He walked closer to the massive table, separating them. A phone was placed gently while his face crocked slightly.

"I think this belongs to someone. It was delivered to me by mistake."

"Have you switched it on?"

"No. It was not mine."

"Switch it on for me so that I can get the information for its owner."

He sighed but did it anyway. She intercoms someone to come into the room.

The phone was on as another staff member stepped into the room holding a device similar to a big tablet. The staff seek through the phone for something then type it in the tablet.

*Ping*

"Errr...."

Both looking at the stuttering staff.

"Who does it belong to?" Madam CEO asked calmly.

The staff chance a peak at the towering man then glanced back at Madam CEO, restless.

She chuckled, "Thank you. Sorry for the awkwardness. You may go now."

The staff bowed and exited the room.

Mr. Wingman looked unpleasantly at her, eyeing her suspiciously.

"You already have a young swordman, a doctor and a mysterious painter. I guess you're aiming for your head of security now." He sighed.

She grinned, "I don't do pointless things."

"I know that well. Guess I'll just wait for the big surprise in the future." He smirked.

+-----------------------------+-------------------------+

"Did you get my first request?"

"With all due respect, Madam CEO, yes, I did help with modeling the character movement. Yes, my data is in the system. No, I don't approve of my figure to be a part of the game content much less the next main character in the game."

"It's already built. We can't scratch everything up and throw it away. The new updates will be released in a month." She playfully got her statement out.

"I should've known you're up to something the moment you assign me to assist character modeling. Yes, to your first question. I'm stalking her now."

She choked a bit, "Can you at least say it in a non-threatening way? She's not your prey, Mr. Wingman."

"Same difference. She's just a player that needs extra care."

Wrong.

How can he be so wrong countless times. Madam CEO didn't do pointless things including assigning him to her.

"She really sweeps the battle in a breeze yet not going further to the next level. How peculiar for a feisty kitten."

And that's not the last thing that will piqued his interest regarding her.

+----------------------------+-------------------------+

"Why didn't she play the Main Story anymore? It's impossible to not realize the continuation of the story is there."

He looked through her gameplay records.

His monitoring only supplied him with the bare minimum since everything else had him locked out. He didn't mind. The challenges keeping him on toe and he quite enjoyed it.

+------------------------------+---------------------+

The cafe.

The first time he could see the interior of the cafe ever since he monitored her. Before this it was darkness with icons gleaming around for him to interact. Barely.

Until now.

He saw her through the lens. Unmoving. Blank eyes. He was the same because seeing her changed the tune in his chest. He breathed out first.

"Did the system-"

"Indeed you are."

White noise surrounded him after hearing her voice. He staggered a bit out of shock. Lips smirking as his heart swells in amused. There's new feelings he had never felt before.

"I think I know now why Madam CEO did it."

+-----------------------------+---------------------+

Another day. Another staring.

She had been doing this for the past few days after he got his first view of the interior of the cafe. The first time he saw her. The first time she spoke. The first time he realized his other half.

"...I'm sorry..."

She spoke first. Again. Apologizing for misunderstanding him, his counterpart, and all the hate she sputtered on him.

He didn't like her tone.

There's nothing for her to apologize for. A prompt was sent to at least ease her tension.

She laughed.

It should be illegal how he couldn't hear it more with how short it was.

"We finally met, kitten. Take your time. I'll be here. Ready anytime."

Eyes fluttered close. Mouth smiling. Fond of the brief interaction.

+-------------------------------+---------------------+

He was quite pleased by the synchronization of their timing. She was in the game whenever he had the time to check on her.

"Nocturnal creatures sleep during the day..."

She has said one time. He had been smiling often at her witty commentaries. Enjoying each other's company even when they both had work or just her trying to prepare for a meal.

+--------------------+--------------------------------+

"She had been skipping a few cards. You have it. Why not watch it?"

It baffled him to no end but not for long.

She finally watched one. The catch was she didn't watch it with her eyes. She opted to hear it instead.

He laughed, "Sweetie, this is a 5* memory and your first time watching it. What a shame to just hear it. This is my favourite part in the memory."

Finger leisurely tapped the Auto icon off. He wanted to see how she would react. He wanted her close to him. See him. Talk to him.

"You're finally in front of me, kitten."

That he didn't realize his eagerness had him switch on his mic. He glanced and calmly switched it off.

Her face took a turn. She checked the same scene again. Nothing.

"Let's spill some secrets." He decided after mulling over briefly that maybe it's time.

He was met with darkness. Again.

He chuckled, "She'll make a good pitcher with that throw."

+--------------------------------+---------------------+

*Bling*

"Good. The twins had her new phone delivered. I'll explain it to her soon."

+-----------------------------+----------------------+

He had been waiting. She had been hiding.

"At least she didn't delete it."

His phone propped up while he was working. The screen was the same as the first time he opened the game, dark with scattered gleams from the icons.

*Ring* *Ring*

"...I'll be there."

He exited the game. Duty calls. The phone in his pocket. Always.

+---------------------+---------------------------+

He raked his white locks, relieved the issues settled. His chest thumping hard out of sudden. Hand smoothly went to log in the game.

"....take a day off or two for a nice trip to reset my tired mind."

She exited the game.

He smiled. Plans gearing in his head.

+-----------------------+-----------------------------+

"Boss, aren't we going to the airport?" One of the twins quipped.

The black car glided on the road.

"She canceled her ticket. I need to be prepared. I leave small matters to both of you."

"Yes, Boss."

+-----------------------------+---------------------+

He tapped on his phone to see the map better. Pinpointing her house as he notes the possible routes she'll take for her short vacation. She wouldn't have gone far, he concluded.

*Bling*

His game phone alerted him of her log in.

It was gone in a blink. But he got all that he wanted.

"My motorcycle is enough apparently." He tapped his temple, amused.

+-------------------------+-----------------------+

The leaf flew past his helmet as he throttled through the nature-rich road. He could imagine she was enjoying the scenery as much as he did.

The town gate welcomed him.

The rumbling of the motorcycle stops in front of a restaurant. The one where he was able to pinpoint her whereabouts from a few hints around her in those split seconds she was in the game. He walked to the very seat where she had her lunch a few hours ago.

"Sweetie, am I not allowed to meet you?" His smile was soft and longing.

He walked back to his motorcycle, driving around town aimlessly. Fate always plays a part in his life whether he wants it or not. This time, he lets it. At least he could enjoy what she saw even if he couldn't meet her.

An old thriving tree made him stop. He saw an old lady nearby. She looked up and smiled. Hand weakly and slowly calling him over.

He somehow obliged. As he kneeled in front of her, she tapped the helmet. He shook his head. She scoffed and tapped it again. He sighed but obliged, again.

His natural sharp features mostly intimidated anyone. This old lady won't have a heart attack, right?

"Never fear of yourself," she said once she saw him without the helmet, "She won't either."

He was taken aback.

"Between the foot and the mountain. May the thread of fate intertwine you once more."

His eyes stared at her. She pinched his cheek like a grandmother doting on her grandchildren.

He laughed then kissed her hand.

Off he went to meet her, in the middle of a grassland encompassed by the mountain behind and a road to the town. The night greeted him, surrounding him with familiar comfort.

He saw her motorcycle. He recognized it from the background of the picture where the twins captured it when they delivered her the phone.

After parking next to it, he took his time to relish in her presence. He glanced at the side of a few cabins built nearby.

He stared at one, unconsciously. Someone opened the door and stepped out. It was her. He turned back to the motorcycle. The beating in his chest was fast, alive and had been waiting for her.

"Excuse me."

He turned his head. His eyes catching her very being in real life. Not behind the screen. He liked it. Like it so much.

She did accuse him of wanting to steal her bike though.

Feisty. He adored her more.

"Judging me for a crime I did not commit already, sweetie."

He stood up, towering over her. Good. He can shield her better when things go south. WHEN is the keyword because he wouldn't let anything happen to her. He longed for her.

"...Sylus..."

Oh... How many oaths he'll take just to let her have the authority to call his name whenever she pleases.

He wants her to.

"I'm just a traveller searching for his long-missed kitten. Would my lady be so kind to lend a helping paw?"

He smirked playfully.

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|  1  |  2  |  3  |  4  |  5 [current]  | 6 [final...] |

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Masterlist Self Aware AU

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✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Taglist :

@poptrim @is-it-night-or-day

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

A/N : I think... this how you do taglist... Please tell me if it's not like this (- ~ - ;)

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[fourormore]

[Image description: A polyam flag with the words “four or more bingo” on it. End description.]

FOUR OR MORE 2024 BINGO

AO3 COLLECTION | SQUIDGEWORLD COLLECTION

You thought I would stop at a ficathon? Hell no, I have a vision: a world where we can read about polycules and complicated relationships with four or more people until our eyes hurt and our hearts can't take it anymore.

Let me introduce to you: the 2024 Four or More Bingo!

This is a low-stakes, personal challenge. There's no penalty for not finishing or running late.

Cards will be given from October 20th to December 31st. Fills can be posted to AO3, SQWA or tumblr forever.

GUIDELINES

Any medium! Any rating! As long as your work focuses on a relationship with 4 or more people, it's allowed!

All works must be your own and not previously posted. AI generated works will be deleted from the collections.

You may combine these with other events, as long as the other event allows it (examples are @polyamships ' polyartober, lyricaltitles ' bingo, etc)

Small fandoms welcome!

Don't forget to comply with the community guidelines.

MEDIUM SPECIFIC GUIDELINES

Minimum wordcount for fics is 100 words. There is no maximum

Minimum for art is a sketch on unlined paper (figure sticks allowed!). There is no limit to the quality or effort you want to put in your fills.

Minimum for moodboards is a 3x3 grid (9 images individually or edited in one image). Maximum is given by the place where you decide to post. On tumblr, the maximum is 20 images, but on AO3, you're free!

Minimum for podfic is a 100-word fic. There is no restriction on maximum length or effects.

Minimum for fanvids is 30 seconds. There is no maximum.

Other mediums don't have a minimum. Do you want to make an in-universe magazine for your ship? A cross stich pattern? A sculpture? Go ahead and do it! I look forward to all the things you can create.

Prompts, FAQ and more below the cut!

PROMPTS

The following are the prompts that the bingo card will be generated from. Send us an ask if you want a card, and if you want any prompts specifically excluded from it (you can exclude up to 5 prompts). Feel free to request a new card at any time through December 2024, even if you've already received one. If these prompts seem familiar, it's because most of them come from the ficathon! I've chosen some of the most frequent prompts + some new prompts for added spice.

Hide and seek

Growing old together

Getting high together

Moving in together

"It's complicated"

Long distance

Going to a music event together

Medical AU

1920s AU

1950s AU

1980s AU

Y2K AU

Apocalypse AU

Cyberpunk AU

Meeting the parents

"Because I'm heartbroken"

Kink negotiation

Didn't know they were dating

Truth or dare

Skinny-dipping

Aromantic character

Coffee date

Pacific Rim AU

Gamer AU

Game night becomes an orgy

Stargazing

Trust issues

"My turn"

Omegaverse AU

Sedoretu

Sharing a bed

Wedding

Introspection

Dirty talk

Birthday sex

Coming home

Case fic

Morning after

"Don't look at me, this wasn't my idea"

Royalty AU

Combat training

Dancing

Confessions

Experimenting

Redemption

"Let me/us help"

Enemies to lovers

Friends to lovers

"Why me?"

Something made them do it (sex pollen, fuck water, in heat, etc)

Outsider POV

Wearing each others' clothes

Collection

A fandom you haven't written before

A fandom with canon set before the 20th century

A fandom that's 10+ years old

A fandom that's 20+ years old

A polycule with 5 people

A polycule with 8 people

A polycule with 10+ people FAQ

Q: So how do I get a card? A: Send us an ask, preferrably off anon, but if you prefer to remain anon, leave an emoji to identify you by.

Q: How many fics do I need to write? A: For a bingo, 5 prompts in a line (horizontal, vertical, or diagonal). You can even go for a blackout (all 25 prompts). Q: Why isn't X allowed? A: Just because.

Q: I don’t have a Dreamwidth account. Can I join? A: Of course! You don’t even need an AO3 account if you wish to post only on tumblr.

Q: My work contains [INSERT WARNING HERE]. Can I still participate? A: Yes. This is a CNTW (Choose Not To Warn) space.

Q: I don’t want to see [X] content, can you please remove it? A: No. The only content that will be removed will be that that does not comply with the rules.

COMPLETION POSTS

So, you have a bingo (or a blackout!), what now? Well, to acknowledge the fact that you spent time and effort on at least 5 fics, we'll be receiving bragging posts (also known as completion posts) where you can link all of your fills at once. Please follow this format. You may post on your own blog and @ us, tag #fourormore or submit it to the blog.

If you have any questions, don't hesitate to send a message.

Have fun and bon appetit!

[izxz-is-deranged]

Baptism by Fire | Matt Murdock x BAU!Reader

Summary: You love your position at the BAU, but your life is uprooted when Hotch sends you on a temporary assignment to the FBI field office in New York. Apparently, someone had the bright idea to make a deal with a crime boss named Wilson Fisk, and now it's your job to build a profile to determine if the information he gives can be trusted. As you realize quickly things aren't as they seem, you must find a way to protect yourself- If protecting yourself has something to do with a masked vigilante... That's no fault of yours.

multiple crossovers | slow burn

A/N: Starts about ep3 of S3 of Daredevil! Reader uses a fake name, and can be seen as an original character if desired. Future storylines may involve Reader's past coming back to haunt her (Supernatural) and the trials and tribulations of her day job (Criminal Minds)

< ao3 link > <Masterlist>

3: Questions and Answers 

Fisk’s life before 2 years ago was gone. You had Garcia pull as many records and documents as she could, but it seemed as though somebody had wiped them all clean. All traces of Fisk’s childhood, no records of his family, absolutely nothing that even said he was alive before now. It took you most of the day, but you’d put together a pretty comprehensive profile despite the holes. At this point however, you still couldn’t figure out why Vanessa was such an important part of his puzzle. You’d been through the thought process that he was lying and didn’t love her, but his actions so loudly screamed the opposite that it seemed asinine to entertain that idea.

You sat working in your room at the Presidential Hotel the FBI had set you up in. Eating at the back of your mind was that about 10 floors up, the man your profiling was pacing in much a similar way. You had set your laptop up on the counter, pacing as you talked yourself in circles. This was much easier with your teammates, people to bounce ideas off of… Or even a white board.

You were about to give up hope, until your phone rang again, with the caller ID announcing Garcia. You click to answer hurriedly.

“I want you to know- You, girlie, owe me some serious lunch money for this,” Garcia chides out from the other line. 

“Whatever it is, hit me with it.”

Keys begin furiously typing on her end. “Okay, so, the first dominoes that had anything substantial to do with Daddy Warbucks over there, are about an incident at a closed company called ‘Union Allied’. A lady named ‘Karen Page’ was totally framed for murder because she found records of money laundering and then she was almost killed like… thrice over."

“Okay, Hold on,” You stop, putting her on speaker and pulling out your notepad. Excitement fills your fingertips. “How does this loop back to Fisk?”

“Well, Union Allied was owned by one of the many, many shell companies found when your boy got arrested, so it seems like Ol’ Fisk set that hit out to keep her quiet. But Karen, resilient, independent woman that she is, ended up working for the firm that prosecuted and jailed Fisk, the star underdogs of the show, Nelson and Murdock.”

“Are they still active?” You ask, writing notes down.

Garcia inhaled. Oh boy. 

“Nelson and Murdock were like, involved in everything. The charges against Fisk, Karen Page’s defense, the Frank Castle Vigilante case from last summer, and the list goes on. But fast forward to today and it gets weird, Matthew Mudock, one of the partners has been missing for months.”

“What?” You ask, swinging round to open a slew of files. If one of the lawyers responsible for putting Fisk away just disappeared one day, that was a major red flag. What if Fisk had him killed? This was the sort of thing you would’ve expected the other Agents to already know, but you are starting to come to realize, they might not be thinking all of this all the way through.

“All financial activity stops. No paper trail. No hospital check-ins or activity online. No missing persons report was filled but it’s like he just drops off the face of the earth. But get this, Karen has been paying the rent and bills to keep his apartment.”

“That doesn’t sound like someone who thinks their friend is dead.”

“Mmhm! That’s what I was thinking!” 

 “Is there any way he’s in protective custody? Hiding with any family?”

She types aggressively, humming. Then stops abruptly as small dings emanate from her computer. Her voice drops.  “Oh. Poor little orphan Matthew Murdock lost his father at 10 years old due to a mob hit- Was sent to Saint Agnes’s Catholic Orphanage. Aged out of the system.”

“Was that here in New York?”

“Hmm… Yes. And not far either.”

You sigh, trying to make a plan in your head. Obviously, you needed to speak with Page and Nelson, and if Murdock was alive, he may have more information as well. You knew that the Catholic church hid people for years before witsec ever existed. If Murdock was raised there, it made sense he might seek refuge at a place that was close to being home. In your brain, you conjure a small voice screaming ‘Sanctuary’.

“Garcia- Thank you so much. Can you send me addresses and any photos?”

Another smattering of key clicks and a 2 seconds delay allow a file to ding in your email. You open it up, scanning through it quickly. You stop on a photo of a dark haired man with red glasses from inside a courtroom. In his hands, a white cane extending to the floor. His half-smile through the screen makes your heart stop with recognition. You’d seen him before.

“No fucking way.”

~

You were 99% sure Matthew Murdock was alive and kicking, but the one percent that doubted, turned to old methods to be able to check.

You couldn’t be positive he wasn’t a spirit. If Fisk did have him killed, then he might even be a vengeful one. This could explain how badly beaten he looked when you saw him standing outside the presidential hotel. You paced around the apartment, phone open, one more line you needed to call.

The entire time the line is ringing, you tap your foot. You never liked to bother him unless absolutely necessary.

The call clicks through.

“What’d’ya want, kid?” Gruff and annoyed as always.

That was the Bobby Singer you knew.

“Bobby, you got that spell for summoning a specific spirit?” You ask, crossing your fingers.

He sighs on the other line. “I thought you weren’t huntin’ anymore.”

“I’m not,” You swallow, “But listen, I don’t know if this guy I’m trying to find is alive or dead, but either way, I need to talk to him. It could make or break this case.”

You hear Bobby shuffle in his house, moving some books around. “Alright… You got a personal object of his kickin’ around? Hair? Anythin’?”

A wave of embarrassment washes over you. “...No.”

“Kid, you know damn well you ain’t able to summon a spirit without some’in of theirs. Go do your job the hard way.”

He clicks to hang up. You sit for a moment, tapping your fingers, then call him right back. He answers.

“The hell’ you callin’ me back for?”

“I love you, Bobby,” you squeak out.

He grumbles on the other line, and even though you couldn’t see him, it’s like you can hear the fake annoyed eye roll.

“I love ya too, kid. Keep yourself outta trouble, ya hear?” 

“I’ll try, but trouble finds me. You know that.”

When the call ends, for good this time, you chuck the phone down on the kitchen counter. Bobby was left over from the part of your life before the FBI. He practically raised you. Took you under his wing after you lost your Mom. Just hearing his voice brings you back to your teenage years pouring through esoteric lore and books covered in a layer of dust you could fold like paper. Bobby didn’t bring you on hunts; he actually preferred you stayed home. Work on school. Be normal. Did he approve of your life these days? You couldn’t tell, but he seemed happy enough you don’t track vampires or demons for a living, like your Mom used to.

But hey, it wasn’t the supernatural that killed her.

You shook your thoughts away. Dredging up the grief around your mother’s murder was a distraction from the goal.

It was only the middle of the day. You’d promised Nadeem the profile by tomorrow, so you still had plenty of time to solidify everything. If this “Matthew Murdock” was killed or forced into hiding in fear of Fisk, he might know something important. Something important enough that Fisk would want him dead. Your game plan unfurled in your head. 

It all starts with a conversation with Karen Page.

~

According to your information, Karen Page was currently employed at a newspaper called “The New York Bulletin”, and the bustling building was filled to the brim with the sound of type keys and paper rustling. Some secretary pointed you in the direction of an “Ellison”, the editor in chief. He strides through the chaos, a stern looking man with little hair and patience left. You wave him down.

“You. I don’t know you. So, you’re either here with a story or,” He signs off on something some intern brings him, not looking twice, “You’re here to tell me about jesus. One of which I don’t need.”

You scoff and stifle a laugh, retrieving your badge. “Neither actually. Agent Wren Singer, FBI. I’m looking for a Miss Karen Page.”

Ellison lets out the longest, deepest sigh you’ve ever heard in your life, eyes flashing up to the ceiling. “I told her to stay away from the Fisk story- I’m sorry. What did she do? Is she in trouble?”

“No, no,” you assure with a smile, “Uh, I just have some questions.”

He thinks for a moment, tapping his foot. He’s skeptical.

“Alright,” He says, pointing across the office, “That’s her door over there. The one with ‘Pain in my ass’ written all over it.”

And like that, he disappears back into the mayhem. You make your way over to the directed door and from inside you can hear muted shuffling. You knock.

A tall, thin woman opens it in response.

“Ellison, Listen I- Oh.” She stops. Her brow crinkles. “Sorry, who are you?”

This was the sort of woman people went to war over: Gorgeous. Her hair was straight, blonde, smooth, and fine, like golden thread pooling off her head. A thin nose, round cheeks and the widest eyes you’d ever seen stare at you in confusion. You didn’t know people’s eyes could be that blue. There’s an air of sadness to her though, in the back of her gaze, like she was missing something. Grieving, maybe.

All it takes is a flash of your badge and your name for her entire demeanor to change. Her face falls, and a surge of anger laces her voice.

“Agent Nadeem snitch on me, huh? You all coming to shake down anyone who criticizes the fact that-”

“Woah- Hey, I’m not here for that,” You stutter as your brain ticks the unbridled emotions simmering underneath her surface. You recall a similar mess of blonde storming away from Nadeem earlier today. That must have been her.

Karen shifts on her feet, eyes darting. She hesitates for a moment. “Well, what are you here for? If you’ve got anything to do with Fisk’s change of scenery, I’m not really up for talking.”

Resentment. Anger. Hell, you couldn’t blame her. Fisk tried to have her killed. Of course she’d hate his guts and want him to rot in prison the rest of his life. To get any information out of her, you’d have to meet her on the same field. Show her you disapprove of it just as much, and to be fair, that wouldn’t be hard at all. The more you learned about Fisk, the more you wanted him back behind bars. It nagged at you the way this sector was handling this case. It just was way off from how they should’ve gone about it. Maybe protective custody in jail, a private facility- Not the fucking Ritz.

“I didn’t, I can assure you, Miss Page. I’m from the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They requested a profiler’s second opinion on the information Fisk is releasing– In short, it’s up to me to prove he’s lying or… if something bigger is happening,” You explain, leading her into a train of thought she’d much more appreciate.

Karen stays quiet for a moment, then opens the door, offering the way into her office. You gratefully step through, and the door clicks behind you. Her office is stacked with files and papers. On the walls there are framed stories, but the place is littered as if someone worked here for years, by your count, she hadn’t been here that long yet. Perhaps she took the mantle from someone, someone she respected if she hadn’t changed anything. Karen wants to preserve a memory. She walks back into view.

“Okay- Okay. So, you’re telling me you can convince them Fisk is just as weasley as ever and- And they’ll just listen to you?”

You exhale, poising yourself in the middle of her office while Karen crosses her arms in front of her desk. “It’s what they brought me in to do. It’d be a waste of money to throw away my opinion.”

“What, you’re trying to just- Go against the rest of the FBI?” Karen’s voice is strained with confusion.

“No. I’m just trying to finish my profile. What that profile tells me… That’s what I report.”

“And what’s it telling you?”

“That Fisk is dangerous. Manipulative. A narcissistic sociopath who thinks himself above others and is willing to kill to get what he wants,” You explain, leaning back on a table. “But there are things missing.”

“Like?”

“Like why he’s sacrificing everything for his girlfriend and what happened to Matthew Murdock.”

It’s like a bolt of electricity runs through Karen. She straightens, a rigid shock taking hold. Her wide eyes blink rapidly. At the very mention of his name, that grief that you clocked comes barreling forward. Her voice is small.

“What about Matt?”

“He’s been missing for some months, correct? But you don’t think he’s dead. You’ve been paying his rent,” You say as Karen shifts on her feet, wiping her nose. Your tone goes soft, sympathetic, “So, when was the last time you saw him?”

“I… I haven’t…”

“Did Fisk have something to do with his disappearance?”

“No. No.”

You tilt your head. Karen sounded so adamant, and with her history if she had an inkling, if there was even the slightest possibility that Fisk did something, she would’ve said it immediately. The absolute “no” told you one thing: She knew what happened, and didn’t want to say.

You nod, accepting it. “Okay. It was just an odd discrepancy in my research and knowing Fisk’s history, I was worried he might’ve done something. I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

Karen swallows as she faces the wall. She kept her arms wrapped around herself, one hand over her mouth. Self soothing. You allow her to take a few moments, composing herself.

"What…” She starts finally, sniffing and flicking her eyes back to you. “What do you mean by ‘sacrificing everything for his girlfriend’?”

“Wilson Fisk’s deal with the FBI for information was made in exchange for the charges against Vanessa Marianna to be dropped. The whole penthouse bullshit was because he was stabbed in prison, and they feared for his safety,” You explain. Standing up, you straighten. “His entire past has been wiped clean of this earth. Yet there is a reason this man, this narcissist, has a fantasy of ruling the world as an equal with someone. Why?”

Karen thinks for a moment. She then walks around her desk. “You don’t know anything about his childhood?”

“No. Trust me, I have some amazing sources. They were pretty thorough in hiding it all.”

“So… you don’t know Fisk beat his father to death with a hammer when he was 12?”

Your fingertips prickle. “What?”

Karen fidgets. “Fisk’s dad was apparently incredibly violent. Used to- uh- beat him and his mom, and one day he stands up to him to protect her.”

Puzzle pieces click together in your mind. Oh. Oh.

“His Mom, do you know how she reacted? Did she condemn him?” 

“No. She helped him dispose of the body for a week. In pieces into the Hudson.”

Your brain runs a million miles a minute, and the rest of the profile begins to fall into place. You had to get back to Nadeem Asap. You fumble around in your jacket for a card.

“Thank you- Thank you for your help, Miss Page,” You sputter out, in a hurry. “If you find anything or need to reach me, my personal number is on there.”

Karen stops you quickly as you turn to leave. “Wait-! Listen, I’m still digging, but… I… I think Fisk might’ve bought the Presidential Hotel.”

A tense breath releases itself from your mouth. Fuck. This was probably worth staying for.