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gh0stly-pages · 6 days ago

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Out of Our Minds (Part 5)

Ledger!Joker x Harley Quinn-esque f!reader (18+)

CW: violence by gunfire and gas, implied deaths/fatal injuries

Words: 5.8k

Chapter Summary: After a long night of plans, you're ready to break your patient out of Arkham Asylum

previous part: part 4

Notes: Welcome back! sorry for the long wait, life has been pretty busy but here's the next part! Things are really cooking up in this one. Just wanna preface that in this series you are NOT a good guy, you're turning into a villain like Joker, so there will be lots of violence and so if you're uncomfortable with that stuff I advise you not to keep reading! I won't be getting graphic though (and I really hope that I don't have to be the one to remind you that in real life, murder bad) Also this whole chapter includes a plot for breaking out of Arkham that is very farfetched but we're gonna pretend like it makes sense, okay? okay. Enjoy!

Arkham is cloaked in shadows.

The patients are forced into these shadows, pushed there by people desperate to remain in the light. They want to be the light. To show themselves as all things good and pure. They walk around with their chins held high and their shoulders back, clucking like birds. They are bright. Intelligent. Classy. Or so they want to be seen as. What lurks beneath is all darkness.

These people avoided the shadows, and thank goodness for that.

As you lurked in the shadows, preparing for the madness to come, you couldn’t help but smile.

_________________________________________

Your heart is pounding as you approach the two guards outside of Joker’s cell. You’ve managed to move his session to be the last one of the day, and the anticipation has been killing you.

You don’t know how you got here. You don’t mean literally, you know how you got there, walking with shaking legs through security, scared that somehow they would see it in your face. That you were hiding something. They didn’t even question you, waving you along while looking bored. After that, you realized they couldn’t read you at all. They simply didn’t care. So now, you hold yourself with confidence, hoping everything goes just the way you planned.

But getting here, being Joker’s accomplice, that you were still figuring out.

“Hello boys,” you say to the guards, even though they’ve seen you enough times to know the drill. They hand you the little remote, enter the code, and the door unlocks. Not a single word exchanged. You give them your best bitchy smile before walking through the doors. “Thanks.”

There Joker is, his face paint still intact, though smudged. You let out a deep sigh of relief, and while the door closes behind you, you take your seat, not exactly sure where to start. “Mr. J,” is all you can manage to get out.

Joker leans forward, dark eyes glinting. “Yes, sweets?”

You take a deep breath. “Are you ready to break out of Arkham?”

The smile on his face is like none other you’ve ever seen from him. It’s giddy, it’s dangerous, it’s thrilling. God, you love it. “Doll, that, ah, might just be one of the best things I’ve ever heard you say.”

It took you all night to think up a plan, with the little time you had. You knew you had to take advantage of just how little people cared for you, finally it was serving as a positive. You’d racked your brain, setting up a giant piece of paper on your wall and drawing out the layout of Arkham. You’d marked where the guards would be, how they’d move, the security cameras and alarms scattered around the building. It had all looked like a mess at first. A puzzle you wouldn’t be able to put together. Yet the more you thought about it, the more you realized you were thinking too much about how to perfectly escape and not how to rely on your own strengths. Not only could you fly under the radar, but you were light on your feet, had learned a few tips from Joker on weaponry, and the only people who (mostly) respected you in Arkham were your patients.

You’d not gotten any sleep but it was worth it as you pieced everything together. The main part of your plan did not necessarily involve high level theatrics like J, but Arkham was in for one hell of a ride.

Reaching up into your hair, you pull out a hair pin, reaching over and grabbing Joker’s wrist. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” you say, starting on attempting to unlock the cuffs. Joker’s lesson was somehow still fresh in your mind but it wasn’t an easy task. “I’m going to press the button on my remote that will alert the two guards outside the door to come in. We’ll be standing on either side of the door, and we’ll need to take them both out.” To your surprise, the handcuffs unlock with a small click, and you beam as the cuffs fall away.

Joker lifts his hand, moving his wrist, which is partially bruised from the cuffs. “And what about the other layers of security?”

“There’s two layers of security. That was the tricky part, but I’ve talked to a few of my patients and they’ve agreed to… start a ruckus as a distraction. As long as most guards are occupied with the patients, the ones out there won’t have backup. We can knock them out easily.”

He smacks his mouth. “It all sounds too easy.”

You move to his other wrist, pushing the hair pin into the cuff. “I know, but it’s not gonna be easy. Things are going to go wrong but we’ve gotta try.” Again, with a bit of a struggle, the cuffs pull open with a satisfying click. You look down at his ankles, grateful that it seems he hasn’t been cuffed there. “You’re free.”

He stands up, stretching himself out, and you watch with earnestness as he groans and cracks his knuckles. “Not just yet, dolly. Got that remote handy?”

You grab the remote from your purse before tossing the purse to the side. You won’t be needing that anymore. “Got it.” As you stare down at the remote, everything hits you way too fast, like a mallet to the chest. Your breathing falters, your heartbeat speeding up with a rapid bump bump bump-. It’s not that you’re scared, not necessarily, but you’re scared that you’ll fail both you and Joker. You’re not J. You don’t know how to do this shit. “I…”

Everything goes blurry and it takes you a second to realize Joker has moved in front of you. He places his hands on your shoulders, bending slightly to look you right in the eye. “You’ve got a sharp mind, dolly. I, ah, know you wouldn’t fail,” he says, an odd reassurance but it works, and you can feel your breathing go a bit steadier. Then you realize how close the Joker is. He’s touching you, no cuffs, no table between you, no barriers. He’s right in front of you, all of him. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Right,” you mumble, straightening yourself. Much to your disappointment, he drops his hands from you, moving towards the door. You suppose it’s now or never. With a shaky breath, you follow after him, moving to the opposite side of the door. Now, the both of you stand on either side, prepared for whatever comes your way. “Ready?” you ask him.

He nods. “Ready, Doc.”

You press the green button.

The both of you press your backs to the wall as you hear the door click open. It’s far too early into the session for you to be leaving, so the guards must know something is wrong. The first guard walks in, the door swinging open so that it blocks the view of J, while you hold your breath to keep quiet. The guard doesn’t notice you, and his mouth drops open as he sees the table empty. He draws his gun, holding it out. “What the fu-“

Springing into action, Joker grabs the guard from behind, picking him up and throwing him across the room. The guard screams, his gun flying away from him as he hits the floor. In one quick swoop, Joker grabs the gun off the floor and jams the butt of it into the guard’s head, just as the other guard runs inside the room, already firing shots. J made it look so easy, but this other guy is your problem. Filled with a sudden adrenaline, you come up behind him, kicking him forward. You’re not the strongest, so he only stumbles, immediately whipping around to try and shoot you. Combat certainly isn’t your strong suit, not yet, but you can move exceptionally well. You sidestep him as he tries to ram the gun into your stomach, and you opt to knee him in the groin. He groans and tries to shoot you again, and you squeal as the bullets pierce the walls. Thank god the room is soundproof otherwise the guards outside would have come running in. From the corner of your eye, you catch Joker watching you. He’s holding the gun. He could shoot the guy easily but he doesn’t. He wants you to take the guard down.

“Bitch,” the guard mutters, opting to try and throw himself on top of you just for you to dodge him again, lifting your leg and giving him a good knock to the ribs. He cries out, and as he tilts to the side, you give him a good punch to the temple. With a sick pleasure, you watch as he collapses to the floor, eyes wide open, barely breathing. Quickly, you grab his gun, not wanting to take any chances.

You look up at Joker, who’s smiling as he watches you catch your breath, gripping the gun in your hand. “Impressive, doll. Though, ah, you definitely need to work on your skills.”

“You’re the one who gave me a night to think of this,” you grumble, and he chuckles. “Wasn’t exactly able to take a defense class.”

“I’ll teach ya.”

Suddenly, the room begins to glow red, sirens blaring that make your bones vibrate. You look at him in panic, he looks at you with excitement. Clearly, you both have very different definitions of fun. The sirens aren’t for you though, the Arkham security team doesn’t like to cause commotion for just a single patient causing mayhem. The patients must have started a ruckus, whether it be a riot or starting a fight with one another, you hadn’t gone into the details. You just told them to be distracting.

You tilt your head towards the door. “Coming?”

“You go first, doll.”

You move ahead, prying the door open. Two more guards stand in the room, talking in hushed whispers beneath the blare of the siren. They don’t even notice you as you hold out the gun, firing into one guard’s shoulder and immediately spinning and shooting the other one in the hand. The guard whose hand you shot drops to the floor, their gun hitting the ground alongside them, and you quickly move forward and kick it. But as you kick the gun, a bullet flies out in front of you, nearly grazing your nose, and you spin around, the guard who you shot on the shoulder aiming his gun right at you. Fuck. You tense as his finger moves to pull the trigger again but before he can move any farther a bullet digs into his side and then one into his chest and he goes limp.

You turn to see Joker huffing with the gun in his hand still smoking. “Doll, you’ve got a lot to learn. You’re not even-“ He turns and shoots the other guard in the chest “-getting in good shots. You’re leaving yourself vulnerable. Gotta make sure you get em’ where they can’t shoot back.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, suddenly feeling embarrassed. You didn’t expect to be this unprepared.

Seeing your expression, Joker falters a bit. “No apologies. I’ve told you, it, uh, doesn’t mean anything to me. It’s just a word.” He comes up to you and nudges you with his shoulder. “C’mon. Last room of guards before we have to run, right?”

“Right.”

“Well then,” he says, pointing to the door with his gun. “You first.”

This time, you don’t want to screw things up. You put the gun behind your back, pulling the door open with your other hand and entering the final room. This room has a security camera in the corner, so you don’t want to go in all guns blazing. You have an idea, and with the gun, gesture for Joker to stay hidden. You hope that’s what your gun waving conveys anyways. Three guards turn to look at you, the ones that greeted you when you first came in, two men and a woman. They’re all masked but you can make out the slight outline of their face beneath the face shield.

The woman runs forward, no gun drawn, leaving it still hanging at her hip. “Miss l/n, what happened?” She tries to crane her neck to see behind you but you’ve inched the door closed enough so she can’t see too much on the other side. “What happened with the nutbag? Are the guards attending to him?”

You nod rapidly, trying to look like you’re startled. Your acting skills might need some touching up, another thing to work on. “Yes, I- I just wasn’t feeling very comfortable… Felt like I needed to get out of there.”

The woman snorts. “Alright, ma’am. Well, is there anything you need from us? Some other whackos are causing a disturbance.”

“Yes, I, um-“ You pull out your gun. “I need you to step aside and let us through.” You slam the barrel into her stomach, sending her flying backwards, and in one fluid motion you shoot the security camera in the corner and then train your gun on one of the other guards. You can sense Joker step out from behind you, shooting the other guard before he can even lift his own gun. The guard you’ve trained your gun on aims his gun right back at you. “You’re gonna let us go, ain’tcha?” you say, trying to keep your voice from shaking. You have to remain confident. “Or else this bullet is going in your head, right, Mr. J?” you say, looking at Joker. If you’re gonna be a villain to these people, might as well play the part.

Joker nods, mimicking your stance and pointing his gun at the guard. “Whaddya say, doll, what should we do if he, uh, refuses to listen?”

You tighten your finger on the trigger. “I can think of a few things.”

The guard drops his gun, raising his hands in surrender. It sends warmth through your chest. Even if it's sickly satisfying. You feel proud. “Okay, okay,” he blubbers, looking between them both. “Please just don’t kill me, I’ll let you go, please.”

Joker giggles. “How generous, you know, normally I’d use you to get out of this place but I don’t think we need the extra weight.” Joker shoots the man in his left hand, bam, then once in the other, bam. “Looks like you won’t be able to do much! Buh-bye!” The man faints immediately.

Seeing Joker at work, this sinister side of him you’ve only seen on the screen, makes you shiver, and your grip on the gun only tightens, knuckles going white. “The uniform. Take his uniform.”

Joker pouts at you. “Aw, it ain’t even my color.”

“J,” you warn.

“Kiddingggg, doll. Why so serious?” Grabbing the man, Joker strips him of his uniform roughly, getting each piece off before stripping out of his own clothes. Your cheeks turn pink and it all happens so fast before you can even think to turn your head and give him privacy. He pulls his shirt up over his head, chest in full display. The first thing that catches your eyes are all the scars and bruises littering his stomach, pink and jagged, scars you want to trace beneath your fingertips. He’s surprisingly toned, just like his arms. Not muscular exactly, but strong looking. Before you can get a better look, he pulls on the guard’s black undershirt, then fastens on the bulletproof vest. When he catches you staring, he grins. “Enjoying the show?”

You turn your head as he kicks off his pants, though you can still see him in your peripheral, throwing on the black cargo pants the guard had donned. “No,” you lie.

“And, are you, uh, gonna be gracing us with a costume change as well?”

You bite back a smile. “No.”

“Pity.”

When he’s finally done, you turn around just as he puts on the helmet. You don’t like that it’s hiding his face from you but you can still see his scarred smile if you look hard enough. “Lookin’ good, soldier,” you tease, saluting him.

His lips twist into a smirk. “Lucky I like givin’ orders. Let’s move.”

“Okay, J, for this part, you’ve gotta follow me. I’ll run up ahead and lead you down to where we need to go, you gotta take out anyone you can. Got it?”

“Let’s see if we die or not, shall we?”

“You could try and be positive .”

You open the door, poking your head out to look around, and shit, it’s chaos out there, guards running back and forth, clearly busy with whatever the patients started. You can hear screams, banging, and laughter beneath the sound of the still screeching sirens. The place still glows a flashing red. You point to the right, down a long hallway. “This way!” you shout, running towards a set of doors at the every end of the hall. Arkham is a bit of a labyrinth but you know it well. Down that hallway leads to another hall which leads to more doors which then, finally, leads to the staff wing of Arkham. It’s where the back exit/entrance is. And also where you’ve parked your getaway vehicle.

You don’t wait for Joker, but you can hear his steps behind you, the combat boots he stole pounding on the floor. Nobody seems to notice either of you at first, or they’re too busy to even give it any mind. You know eventually someone will run past Joker’s conference room and realize he’s not inside. His room empty. All traces of him gone. But you hope you’ve bought at least a bit of time.

As you run, more guards run past you, and you’re nearly knocked off course as one bumps your shoulder. You keep steady on your feet though. Thank goodness for all those gymnastics lessons. The only time you glance over your shoulder is to make sure Joker is behind you before you push through the doors. Once you see him in all his suited up glory, you carry on through the doors, Joker just a step behind. “To the right again,” you yell. There’s less guards down here, but that means even more likely you’ll be caught. Already, you can see them turn to you, wondering what the hell you’re doing running off with one of the guards close behind. As the two of you run, one of the guards turns their attention to you. “Hey! What are you two doing?” the guard barks, running up in front of you. “The lady has a gun!”

You could probably give them an excuse that you’re running away from the danger but you feel too angry. “Running to safety, dumbass!” you say, using the gun like a hammer and hitting them on the head like a game of whack-a-mole. That was a hell of a lot more fun than shooting a gun. As the guard crumples to the floor, at least five other guards take notice, and you have to quickly jump over the guard’s unmoving body to run as fast as you can through the doors. You can hear gunshots explode all around you, it’s like a miracle you’re not hit, and you can tell which gunshots come from the guards and which from J. But before you know it, every single one of them falls flat on the floor. “Nice one, J,” you say, and he cuts up ahead of you, opening the door for you.

“Ladies first,” he says.

“So gentlemanly.” You shoot out ahead of him. Now you’re in the staff hallway, lined with doors which leads to locker rooms and places to conduct meetings. At the very end of the hall is the exit. You’d be jumping for joy if it wasn’t for the fact that any second more guards would be chasing after you.

You grab his arm, pulling him down the hall, running faster than you ever have in your entire life. “Exit this way!” you scream through the chaos, heading into the “staff only” area of the building. Looming ahead of you, just down the hall of rooms and lockers, is the staff exit, leading to the back end of Arkham. You look over to Joker. “You ready?”

Joker moves his arm away from you, instead grabbing onto your hand with his own free one. “As I’ll ever be.”

The two of you barrel down the hall, practically slamming into the exit doors, desperately tugging them open. There doesn’t seem to be many people around except for a few guards lining the outside, and Joker moves to take care of them as you yank him towards your car. Well, your stolen car. You weren’t gonna risk coming in your own vehicle. “Here,” you say, pointing to a black car in front of you. Letting go of J’s hand, you stuff yourself into the driver's seat, and Joker shoots at another guard before cramming himself into the passenger seat. “Drive,” he yells, and you grab the keys from your pocket, turn them in the key hole, and slam on the pedal. He throws off his mask, tossing it in the back seat. “Faster!”

As you get to driving, you remember the final bits of your plan. The part you’re most proud of. “Hey, J, wanna hear what other distraction I planned?” you yell over the roar of the engine, as you swerve around the parking lot.

“Whaddisit?”

“Gas! The same kind they might have used on you. Rigged it all up on my own. The patients should be all rounded up in their cells by now and the guards? They’re getting knocked out cold!”

You have to focus, but you turn towards Joker, your heart swelling in your chest when he looks impressed. His eyes are wide as he pulls down the window and looks back at Arkham as you pump it straight out of the parking lot, taking down the small security gate. In your rear view mirror, you can see green explosions of gas within the windows. If all worked well, only the guards should be getting knocked out about now, leaving no one to come after you. Police will be on their way, but that at least gives you a bit more time and them a distraction. Plus, they aren’t sure what they’re looking for, no clue what car or who helped Joker escape, not until they can wake the guards.

Now, you realize, you can’t just go back to your apartment. It’s too risky. You look at J as you slow the car, trying to blend in with the rest of Gotham traffic. You failed to plan this far. “J, I don’t know where to go now.”

“I do,” he says, leaning over, making sure not to put too much weight on you or crush you as he takes hold of the wheel. “Just pump the gas, doll, I’ll get us somewhere safe.”

It sounds like a horrible idea, but you nod. You’d make it work. “Okay,” you say, and as the light turns green, you hit the gas. It’s scary as hell just controlling the gas, letting Joker swerve you both around, but you trust him. Ha, funny. You trust the Joker. He drives you towards the outer parts of Gotham, and as you enter a rather dingy residential street, he moves the car off the road. “Park it here,” he says, and you obey, pressing the brake and shifting the car into park.

“Why here?”

“I’ve got a spot around here.”

“You have an apartment?”

He snorts. “No, I’ve got a, uh, hideout spot in one of the abandoned warehouses at the outskirts of Gotham. And it wouldn’t be very wise to park right outside the entrance.”

Smart, you hadn’t thought of that. Clearly you lack experience in this realm. You grab the keys and throw open the door, Joker doing the same, and the two of you begin walking on the sidewalk, Joker taking the lead. Darkness has already set over the city, and the two of you walk beneath the light of dim street lamps. It’s cold out, and your white coat isn’t exactly meant to keep you warm, so you hug yourself to try and keep away the chill. “Is it very far?” you ask, and you realize this is the first quiet time you both have had together since escaping. You’ve been too anxious over escaping to even think about everything that’s happened. To think of how the Joker is right next to you, taking you to one of his many hideaways.

Joker shakes his head. “Not too far, doll.”

Silence settles upon you both, the two of you far too preoccupied with getting to the warehouse to say much of anything else.

As you walk, the blare of sirens starts up in the distance, and when you turn behind you, you can see police lights in the distance. You’re positive they’re not for you, not yet, but if they even caught a glimpse of the Joker, the two of you would be over. Joker knew this too, clearly, grabbing your arm and picking up his pace, practically dragging you as he began to run. Everything is a blur as the two of you fly through the streets. Even though you’re not bad at running, after a few twists and turns, your legs start to hurt, your chest feeling heavy. But Joker doesn’t stop, probably used to running from lord knows what. Before you can register anything, you’re climbing over gates and Joker pushes open the large doors of the abandoned warehouse, pulling you in and up a crumbling flight of stairs until you reach the second floor.

Finally, Joker and you stop moving, taking time to catch your breath. Fuck, everything hurts.

You gasp, throwing yourself against the concrete wall of the warehouse, sliding down until your butt hits the floor. Your chest moves rapidly up and down as you try to catch your breath. Joker crouches in front of you. “Breathe, just breathe, good girl.” He holds out his arms. “C’mere.”

Immediately, you lean forward and throw your arms around him, going limp. He stands up, taking you with him, your legs dragging lifelessly on the floor until only the tips of your toes touch the concrete. You bury your face into his shoulder, and for a second everything feels right. Finally, a quiet moment, and everything crashes down on you, every decision you’ve made. It takes a second for you to process that you’re hugging the Joker, and he’s letting you hug him back. This man, this villain you’d become infatuated with, was holding you close. You’ve imagined something like this before, even when you didn’t want to, but this is better than any of that. “We did it,” you mumble into his guard shirt, which smells like rust and gunsmoke. “We escaped.”

“You did it,” he says, and when you finally pull back to look at him, he’s smiling at you. He gently settles you back on to the floor. “They’re going to come looking for us though. We’ll need to lay low for the moment.”

“In here?” It’s strange to be so close, your arms still wrapped around his neck. “This where you usually stay?”

“I stay all over.”

“Very spacious,” you say, moving your head to look around. “Where do you sleep though? On the hard floor?”

“Chaos doesn’t sleep, darling.”

“No, but people sure do.” You tug gently on one of his locks of hair and he growls. “You need sleep.”

“Can’t sleep now. Not when we’re being pursued.” He wrinkles his nose. “This your first time being a wanted criminal?”

“Duh.”

“I really can’t believe you did it, doll. Made up a whole plan and everything and got me out of Arkham.” Much to your dismay, he moves away from you, walking to some other part of the building. You hesitantly follow after him. “We can camp out here for the night but then we’ll have to move.” In a secluded corner of the room, a moth-eaten curtain hangs from the ceiling, concealing that whole part of the room. Joker takes the curtain in his hand, then looks at you. “Course, we can’t exactly fend for ourselves without weapons, can we?”

Yanking back the curtain, on the other side is a wall full of all sorts of weapons. Guns, knives, even TNT. There’s crates full of clothes, Joker’s clothes, you assume. Some clown masks. All sorts of tools for mischief. You look at it all like a child in a candy store. “J, this is amazing. Isn’t it kind of risky keeping it locked up in here though?”

“I’ve got some goons guarding it. And nobody in Gotham comes in here anymore, I’ve made sure of it.” He shrugs. “If anyone were to find it, let em’ take it, I’d just get duplicates and use them all on the thief.”

You move forward to get a better look at everything as Joker drifts behind you. It should be scary just how much violence is here at his fingertips but know it just makes you swell inside.

“So, how about it, doll? Pick your poison,” Joker says, holding your shoulders from behind. You look over all your options. The guns weren’t exactly your style, you were better at hitting people with them than you were at shooting them. The blades looked nice, and you’d like to learn to use them, but they could only do so much. Something that did catch your eye, sticking out from the other weapons, was a mallet in the corner. It was a tad comically large, definitely not the regular kind you’d see on a construction site. You move forward, Joker moving with you, and grab the handle.

“Whaddya have this one for?” you ask.

“Uhhhh, to kill people with?”

You glare at his snarky response, though you’re still smiling. “I figured that much. Where’d you get it from though?”

“Amusement Mile.” The old, abandoned theme park towards the other end of Gotham. It’s been shut down ever since you were a child, but you remember your parents driving past it. Seeing a place that must have been so exciting and colorful look so dark and decrepit was chilling. “Found it at one of those old high striker games. Adjusted it a bit.”

Lifting it, you test the weight. It’s definitely heavy, but the weight is distributed evenly, making it easy to maneuver. You give it a quick swing, the whoosh of the mallet like music to your ears. This was what you needed. Sturdy, not too hard to wield, and perfect to pair with your swiftness. “I want this one.”

“Gonna play a game of whack-a-bat with that one?” He maneuvers in front of you, grabbing the handle of the mallet before you could give it another swing. “You can take that one. But you need a gun too. The mallets they’re, uh, too big to get around places sometimes.”

You look back at the wall and point at a small silver gun. “I’ll take that one too.”

He grins. “Are you sure you’re, ah, ready to cause some damage?”

You drop the mallet. “I’ve been ready.” All your life you’ve been pushed to the side. No, pushed to the ground. You were ready to hurt some people back. To make skyscrapers crumble and leaders fall. This anger inside you boils, and you can feel your grip tighten on the handle, envisioning every person who has wronged you.

Joker’s laugh pulls you back to reality, stepping up closer in front of you. “Calm down there, lovely. They call me the Harlequin of Hate but I think that title better suits you,” he says, cupping your chin. “My little Harlequin, partner to the Clown Prince of Crime.”

————————-

That night, you’re stuck sleeping on a mattress on the floor.

You flop down on your back, the mattress not the comfiest thing you’ve ever slept on but it works. There’s no blanket, so no way of keeping warm, and you try and shift around to find a comfortable position. Joker sits on the edge of the mattress, his knees tucked up to his chest, and it’s such an odd sight to see him so regular that you laugh. His head jerks to look at you. “Admirin’ the view?”

“Maybe,” you say, smiling as you lay on your side. “It’s just weird to see you here. Not in Arkham or fighting B-Man.”

He hums. “It ain’t everyday I bring people around ere’. At least, not like this.”

“Lucky me, huh?”

“You realize you’re in this forever now, right? There’s, uh, no goin’ back from here.”

The weight of it settles on you. “I know... I wouldn’t have gone along if I didn’t know that.”

“Well, if you wanted to go, you could go now. You could walk free, tell the cops I threatened you and made you do all this.” He looks down at his feet. “I, ah, won’t stop you.”

You’re surprised to find your eyes watering. Joker, this menace, a force to be reckoned with, was giving you the option to leave. He could be fooling you, of course, but you could tell from the way the words escaped him awkwardly, uncomfortably tender, that he meant every bit of it. He’d let you go, you could continue your regular life, maybe find a better job. But that wasn’t the point of why you freed him. You wanted to escape too, to show Gotham how corrupt it was, and you wouldn’t do that without J. “I’m not walking away,” you say back.

“You’re insane, ya know that?”

“I know.” You stare at one another in silence. Finally, you yawn. “Are you… are you gonna come to bed?” You’re not sure exactly what’s going on between you and Joker. You like him, you know that much, but how much exactly does he like you? Enough to keep you around, obviously. But to what extent did he want you around? Did he want not just your loyalty but also your affections? You were ready to give affection, but was he?

Joker shakes his head, and you feel yourself grow disappointed. “You go on, doll. I, uh, gotta keep watch.”

“Mr. J-“

“I like it when you call me that.”

“-You’ve gotta get some sleep. You’re gonna pass out without it.”

“I’ll be fine,” he grumbles. “Don��t ya get your pretty little head worried over it.”

“You’re an ass.”

Your anger only makes him smile. “If you’re so, ah, worried, then just wake up early and I’ll drift off for a bit.”

“Then that’s exactly what I’ll do,” you say, flipping over, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you ticked off. You’re not actually upset, you just wished Joker prioritized himself a bit more. That was something to deal with another day. “Goodnight, J.”

“Night, darlin’.”

That night you dream of Gotham in flames. You dream of chaos. You dream of him.

Taglist:

Taglist: @lightsabergirl / @knoepfl / @jeffswh0re / @itsmrshamilton / @heath-ledger-jokers-wife / @lolwey / @ilovetoomanymen / @amazingzou/ @ronniesweetkisser / @emberhatesthemoon

lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

#dark knight #dark knight joker #dark knight joker x reader #heath ledger joker #heath ledger joker x reader #joker x reader #ledger joker x reader #dark knight fanfic #dc joker

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fanficonly · 4 months ago

Text

Wenclair x Reader -

What are you?- Part 10

Okay so yeah I have been gone... For like ... A long time... Sorry! I cannot give just one reason life has just been a lot to put it lightly. I am getting back into my writing and forgot how much I love it and fanfiction and just Wenclair in general. So I hope this chapter is good enough to move this story along and that some, if any, of you are still interested in it then I will be continuing so for now this is part 10 and more will be happening soon.

Enjoy reading 😋

"You were spying on me?!" You practically yell. Wednesday makes no attempt to explain herself but Enid fumbles over her words stepping towards you prompting you to step back instinctively

"I'm sorry. We're sorry. It was an accident!" She shouts back in defense, not aggressively but more panicked and worried as she dreaded your reaction.

"I- WHAT- This is too weird I-" you clutch the shirt in your hands, letting the fabric crease between your tensed knuckles as you start towards the door again.

"Y/N I have a proposition" Wednesday speaks abruptly, as if snapping out of thought, and the brazen tone she uses stops you from going any further. What could she possibly say that would help the situation right now? No wonder they are suspicious of you, making that phone call didn't make it any better and they had literally creeped on you from a closet! How the hell are you suppose to just let this go?

"A proposition? You spied on me while I was- you know that's not cool guys how did you even get there how did I not notice you?" Your voice trails off as you remember the last hour of time you spent in your room unaware of the prying eyes.

"We are incredibly skilled in being conspicuous" Wednesday says this with a hint of pride seeping out from the cracks of her blunt tone.

"Clearly" you sigh shaking your head a little in disbelief. I mean you didn't want to admit that it didn't completely freak you out because this is something that any normal person should have this reaction too... So you just continue with this course of action.

"We weren't trying to be conspicuous though, we didn't plan it!" Enid looks at Wednesday in matched disbelief. Honestly the thrill the Addams girl gets from stalking someone is a tad worrying but to brag about it like it was some master plan ...God she couldn't believe her girlfriend sometimes.

"Anyway as I was saying, I suggest we all move on from this" she puts it out there and for a split second you almost don't see the gravity of the situation and think the way she talks about it really minimises how you should feel.

Even Enid matches your expression giving Wednesday a puzzled look. How could you just forget about this? What could she possibly say that could stop the pure anger that was subtly building within you now?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the monotones of Wednesday

"We have apologised for spying on you" she says "You have apologised for hurting Enid" again you look away in shame, did she have to keep bringing that up like damn.

Wednesday continued as you drag your mind back the conversation at hand "I suggest we call it even and in return you will forgive us and I will halt all plans to end your life unexpectedly because of your crimes against my girlfriend" Wednesday makes a good point. Maybe this way you could start fresh almost. Yes it was wrong of them but at the same time it was wrong of you to nearly kill Enid on your first day. Seems like a good trade off

"Wow. That... That actually makes sense" you blink in surprise not expecting such a godsend and you smile lightly, recounting everything in your head. Weirdly enough, if you could all just forget about both incidents then maybe you could start building a foundation for friendship or at the very least have no qualms with eachother and not spend the rest of your days looking over your shoulders. You think you can do it.

Wednesday side eyes Enid, and smirks slightly at the puppy dog eyes she was giving her, clearly the wolf enjoys a little bit of violence in her honour. You could tell Enid was trying to contain herself from jumping her girlfriend's bones at the thought of her gerring all protective.

"Of course it makes sense I am a completely competent person with a proven track record for peacemaking" Wednesday let her face rise in another light smirk and Enid giggles. Did she just make .. a joke? Or is she serious?

You look at her quizzically

"Ok perhaps not the peacekeeping but that is what my Enid is for" you slightly giggle to yourself when Wednesday pets the werewolfs head affectionately causing her to raise her shoulders in glee, letting her eyes flutter shut at the touch of her mate.

The way she says "My Enid" and delicately trails her eyes lovingly towards her makes your heart melt and you nod

"Okay fine ..." You hold one hand out while the other still grips your shirt intensely " Truce." Quickly shaking hands with Enid, settling your emotions through meditation and earning a nod from Wednesday indicating she would decline your physical contact, you return to a less nervous state.

"Now... Can Wednesday still ... You know" Enid points to the surgical instruments and you sigh. Honestly at this point you have no choice you cant just leave so instead you say

"Yes thank you" and stand there awaiting instructions again.

"Lay on the bed" Enid motions for you to move, her tone was not demanding more a soft suggestion and you do as you're told.

You smile and lay face down, accepting the pillow Wednesday silently hands you and beginning to get more comfortable.

"How is your pain tolerance?" Wednesday asks as you hear the clatter of tools behind you. The sound urges you to twist your head around, curious as to what she was doing.

"Ummm fairly used to it" you say turning away again.

"Good" Wednesday says and you swear you can just tell she has some kind of sinister smirk covering her features.

"No not good why? Do you get into a lot of fights?" Enid asks casually pulling up a chair to the end of the bed to keep you company as Wednesday prepares her tools.

"Yeah you could say that" you let out a nervous laugh propping your head up with your hands placed under your chin for stability. It really baffles you how easy it was to get back to ... Well yeah normal is the right word you guess.

Enid smiles comforting you and says "Brace yourself" looking behind you apologetically.

"Huh?" You furrow your brow in confusion until "Fuck!" The word leaves your lips harshly as you grip the edge of the mattress in an attempt to ignore the pain you just felt as Wednesday jabs what feels like a burning rod into your scarred body.

words. And as you trail your eyes towards Enid your heart breaks for a second time at her pained expression. She must have felt terrible for bringing it up. You can't stand to see her like this.

"It's okay" you practically vomit out the words harshly trying to stop the tears that threatened Enid's eyes from falling "I- well I grew up with other children around me but no they weren't my siblings". Your mind drifts off thinking about the programme. Other children just like you nothing but numbers in rooms, day after day experiments, fighting and abuse being the core memories of your childhood. .

"So like a group home?" Enid asks and you twitch a little as Wednesday continues her handy work

"God you ask a lot of questions" you opt to deflect that one because how do you describe the home ...house... Building...you were raised in.

The tragic tales of Godmother forcing you all to enhance and control your abilities by using eachother as test dummies and the horrid realisation that this is your life forever. Forever until nevermore that is. Thank god for Nevermore. .

"How else are we suppose to get to know you" Enid smiles. She really did just want to get to know you? There was something so wholesome about her demeanor but again that little voice in your head remained skeptical so you ask "Why do you want to get to know me?" You move to prop you chin up with your hands further, elbows resting on the pillow to see more of the werewolf girl.

"So we can be friends silly" Enid pats your head similar to how Wednesday had petted her earlier and pairs it with a little "Oop" noise which was by far the cutest sound ever to leave the lips of a human.

"You guys want to be my friend?" You ask and almost smack yourself silly for how desperate and weak you sounded.

"Enid does,I prefer the term ally" Wednesday speaks from behind you once again and you crane your neck to give her a half smile in response. She barely changes her face instead running anesthetic around your wound after shooting you a quick look.

"Sure but I am a very private person" you warn hoping this might urge them to lighten up on the police style questioning you were being subjected to.

"So was Wednesday when we first met, now I know all her dirty little secrets" Enid smiles widely again and giggles menacingly.

"Yeah but she's your girlfriend that's different" you raise your eyebrows and smirk.

"I prefer the term soulmate" Wednesday chimes in preparing the hot iron for the third hole on your back.

"Soooo why did you come to Nevermore?" She continues with her "Getting to know you" plan and you bury your face in the pillow as Wednesday cauterizes your third wound. You also note that that's not what she wants to ask you. She wants to ask what you are? What you did? What happened earlier? But here she is luring you into a false sense of security. Either that or she actually planned to stick to the deal of forgiving and forgetting the events. When you don't say anything Enid looks at Wednesday. .

It's still hard to focus with the light grazes of cold fingertips trailing down your back. As Enid stops questioning you your mind races as you become more aware of the Seers hands touching your body.

Luckily you have something else to focus your attention on and instead you're watching Enid again stare at Wednesday. It's as if they are reading each others minds or something but you calm down a little trying to pay attention to the beautiful blonde Infront of you instead of the stunning darker haired girl touching your back.

Stop it. Settle your emotions. Breathing exercises. You close your eyes. God these girls really bought out all these confusing feelings and it was not good for your... Gift .

Suddenly Wednesday presses into your cut and you immediately screech out a noise you have never heard yourself emit before,burying your face into the pillow as Enid reaches for you in concern

"My apologies" she murmurs as you bite into the pillow then your breath hitches in your throat as you feel her fingers glide up your back slowly ... This doesn't feel like she's stitching you up and you panic, what is she doing, that feels .... That's ...

""What are you-" you begin to ask but without warning she presses her full palm onto the uncut part of your upper back once again. .

The rush of feelings electrify your body, every muscle, every bone in your body seizes up and your head whips back as you feel yourself uncontrollable roll off of the bed. A swirl of golden dust surrounds the two of you ... It's happening again but this time it hurts like really hurts ... What is happening?! .

And then you see it.

Flashes. Images, drilling into your head with a migraine inducing force.

A vision of sorts rushes through your brain, partially distorted and yet painfully clear.

It's you

It's Wednesday, Enid and You. All 3 of you cuddled on a bed together. You look happy ... You look like ... You're in... Then suddenly nothing.

Darkness.

Abyss.

...

Y/N!!!" The loud whisper rings in your ears "Y/N can you hear me?" The voice is drowned out, but your vision starts to return, the blurry figures of what you know to be Wednesday and Enid looming over you

"I told you not do it yet!" You hear Enid's voice, muffling but it's. almost like static is penetrating your ears.

"I don't know what happened Cara Mia this doesn't make sense, she should not have felt anything" the sultry tone of Wednesday voice is clearer as your ears regain their ability to hear coherently

"Y/N?" The voice buzzes again

"Urrrgh" you groan, your vision finally focussing and feeling returning your limbs, as you notice you are now situated on the cold wooden floor of their dorm room.

Ouch.

Continuing to squint and widen your eyes in an attempt to sort the feelings and thoughts that accompanied the impending realisation of what had just happened

And then...

You sit up suddenly connecting the dots, the head rush it was accompanied by, threatening to bring up yesterday's dinner. Wednesday is a Seer! And you stupidly let your guard down and piggybacked on a vision she obviously induced when she pressed onto your back.

Fuck.

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whatswrongwithblue · 7 months ago

Text

The Fire in the Sin

Chapter 5 - Radio Killed the Video Star

Word count: 5,164. Read on AO3. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter.

Summary: Takes place during the Episode 2 of the show and follows the same events, just with Mina inserted into the storyline. Alastor starts to make an effort to not be such an ass to her. Some slight simping but no smut . . . yet (wink wink). TW: Canon typical violence and language, torture, and gun violence.

Series Summary:

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

Chapter 5 - Radio Killed the Video Star

Present Day

Charlie had wanted to meet with everyone first thing in the morning to brainstorm a plan for the hotel now that the next Extermination Day was only six months away. When Mina came down stairs with Niffty, she was surprised to see only Angel lounging on the lobby’s sofa.

When she had first come to the hotel, everyone’s relationship with her had been strained. All but Charlie had kept her at a safe distance, and Charlie was . . . a lot. The woman was growing on Mina, but the constant hyperactive state she was in drove Mina a little insane sometimes. So she had brought Niffty along with her, offering up her maid services as her first commitment to the hotel.

Mina didn’t own Niffty’s soul, that was Alastor’s position, but Niffty had still stuck by her side the last seven years, even without Alastor around. Their relationship was an odd one. She couldn’t exactly call Niffty a friend as the two had never had what Mina would call a “normal” conversation, but Niffty was a companion. Somewhere between a God daughter, a pet, and a minion.

When Alastor returned, Mina noticed that while Niffty took orders from him and attached herself to him throughout the day, the tiny woman still made an effort to hang around Mina just as much. It meant a lot, since when Alastor had first attained Niffty, Mina had really enjoyed the short woman’s presence, but Niffty had initially treated Mina as not much more than the “bonus Overlord.” They got along well enough, but the two women had never had a bond like Alastor and Niffty had, until he had disappeared. So, it especially warmed her heart whenever Niffty chose to start the day with her rather than Alastor.

Mina took a seat next to Angel while Niffty sprawled across the coffee table.

Angel was another friendship she had been surprised to find she herself in. Although he tended to be extremely obnoxious whenever the subject turned to Alastor, the two demons had sought a strange sort of shelter in each other when they both first arrived at the hotel. Angel was able to vocalize his skepticism about the hotel in a way Mina didn’t dare, but she found his opinions on the place refreshing. And, for the most part, he was actually pretty nice and funny. When he stopped acting like such a slut and would just relax with her, she found him to be the easiest to get along with.

“So, can I ask a question? In all seriousness, I ain’t trying to poke fun here,” Angel asked.

Mina regarded him and decided he looked like he was in a more serious mood than he typically started his day in.

“Alright, shoot,” she said.

“What’s really going on between you and Big Red? I mean, you talk about him like you two are still together-“

“We are,” she said firmly.

“-Right. But you two are not, you know . . . sleeping together. You ain’t even sharing a room so it’s not like it ain’t obvious there’s some trouble in paradise. He comes down here every morning making a big show of how happy he is to be back, with you specifically, and you just keep pushing him away. But you were ssooooo fucking mopey before he got back, so why are you so pissed off now that he’s here?”

Mina signed, “Angel, it’s complicated. And private. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Niffty giggled, “That’s ironic.”

“Shut it,” Mina scolded her, though there was no bite to her remark.

“Oh come on,” Angel prodded, “just between us girls, eh? What the guy do? Because as creepy and evil as he seems to be, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to screw around. So, what was he doing for seven years that’s got your legs closed up for business?”

“He wont tell her!” Niffty butted in again.

“Niffty!”

“Wait, seriously?” Angel asked.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Mina stood and stormed out of the room. The audacity of these people sometimes. They were lucky she considered them friends otherwise she’d probably rip their tongues out and eat them in front of them.

“So you’re telling me,” Angel said, leaning forward to whisper to Niffty once Mina was up the stairs and out of sight, “that not only will Alastor not tell anyone else where he’s been, but he won't even tell his own wife?”

“Nope!” Niffty said, swinging her legs back and forth in the air. “Not me, not Mina, not anyone. No one knows and it’s really upsetting Mina. But I don’t really care, I’m just glad he’s back.”

“Ooof, tough gig for Kittens though,” Angel said with a sympathetic frown.

Alastor was where he had spent the first minutes of every morning since Extermination Day; out on the balcony that overlooked the road to the hotel, drinking his coffee. It had become his own little domestic routine. In decades past, he had always taken his morning coffee in his radio tower; it had the best view in all of Pride ring after all. And though this small balcony couldn’t compare to that, it wasn’t awful, and he tried to make a point of only being in his new smaller tower when necessary. What good would the host of this hotel be if he was always locked away from the other guests?

He smiled in pleasant surprise when Mina stepped out onto the balcony.

“Good morning, my love! Come to join me?”

She neither returned his greeting nor accepted his invitation to sit.

“There’s a meeting about to start any minute downstairs,” was all she said.

He suppressed the urge to sigh, reminding himself a little bit of empathy towards her sour moods was the least he could offer her . . . though she did make it difficult most days.

“I do recall Charlie saying as much last night.”

Mina crossed her arms. “Well, love, are you planning on actually attending then or are you just going to sit up here emitting radio static?”

He didn’t bother hiding the roll of his eyes and his genuinely happy smile turned to that of an irritated smirk.

“I’m sure Charlie can stand to wait a few more minutes. Either that or she’ll clue me in on anything I missed if it’s really important. So please, darling, sit down. I do miss our mornings together.”

Mina hesitated a few seconds, before uncrossing her arms, and sitting in the chair across from him. His true smile returned as he summoned a cup for her, remembering the disturbing amount of creamer she preferred in her coffee. For a carnivore, she had quite the sweet tooth.

He watched with pride as she took a small sip, followed by a larger one as she realized that even after seven years apart, he had gotten it just right. These small moments were all she was allowing him for the moment, so he reveled in each little chip he was able to make in her armor.

He studied her, even though he was pretending not to, and picked up on the way her tail occasionally flicked about at the end, her fingers fidgeted with the handle of her coffee mug, and the way her eyebrows pinched together into the smallest of frowns as she stared unfocused off into the distance.

“Mina,” he prompted gently, “something on your mind this morning?”

Her chest rose as she took a slow, deep breath in, seeming to wage some internal battle with herself before she made the decision to speak.

“Why did you choose a separate room from mine?” she asked, her eyes pulling away from their view to finally look at him.

Oh dear, he thought.

It bothered him how uncertain and sad she looked. Her anger was one thing; difficult to deal with if only because he was so unused to it being directed at him. His ego couldn’t help but fuel the feelings of indignation her biting remarks sparked in him. But feeling guilty was always worse and Mina’s pure hurt at his actions was near unbearable for him to face.

He was not a man accustomed to admitting guilt. So, when she made eye contact with him and he could see, even for a moment, the depth of the pain he had caused her, he had to look away.

“Is that not what you wanted?” he asked. “You were so angry when I returned. I was simply offering you some space.”

“Why would you think I wanted space?”

Alastor tilted his head, very perplexed by Mina’s sudden switch of emotion from the last several days.

“You have made it perfectly clear how unhappy you are-“ he began but she cut him off.

“I am unhappy, you spanner! I’m so fucking furious and sad, all at once, all of the time, but not because you’re back. Alastor,” she said his name with a sigh and leaned across the table, taking his hand. “I want you to talk to me. Space from you is the last thing I want.”

Alastor nodded. He should have guessed this was where she was going to steer the conversation.

“You want answers,” he said, pulling her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles. “I did promise I would deliver them . . . in time.”

She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms, once again looking away out at the horizon rather than at him.

“I’m afraid we are at an impasse here,” he continued, “if immediate information from me is what you are after and it’s the one thing I cannot give you.”

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes, her anger returning and clearly burning away any signs of sadness.

“You’re not giving me anything.”

Alastor was pretty sure there was an inuendo in her tone, but he chose to ignore it and made a show of looking offended.

“I offer you my undying love and devotion, isn’t that enough?”

She looked back at him, eyeing him up and down as if she were studying him.

“And what about your respect?”

He smiled wider and chuckled.

“Oh, you silly little thing, you,” he said as he dissolved into a shadow, wrapping smokey tendrils around her ankles, and pulling her into the darkness with him only to manifest their bodies a foot away. Standing chest to chest, he cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her face to meet his. “I respect you far more than anyone else in this God forsaken place. You’ve forgotten that was the very reason why I gave up the pursuit for your soul and asked for your hand instead.”

There was a retort on her lips, he could practically see it, and he was going to silence it with a kiss before she got the chance to spit it out. Maybe, if the moment had gone right, he would have even taken them both back to her room and physically showed her all the respect, love, and devotion he was speaking of. Charlie’s meeting be damned.

If only that hulking chunk of metal hadn’t interrupted him, Alastor very likely would have given into many urges he had been keeping at bay lately. Urges he knew Mina would have encouraged, regardless of whether or not she was still angry.

The explosion that hit the side of the hotel blew away the last bit of tension between him and Mina and they pulled away from each other with reluctance.

That snake demon was insane to keep coming back for a fight. Like a game of cat and mouse except the mouse kept running back to get disemboweled.

It had always been a bit entertaining before but this time he had caught Alastor at a very bad time.

___

Mina expertly and aggressively shoved the clip into the tommy gun and brought it up to her shoulder, letting another round off until the demon tied to the post in front of her was just a pile of liquified, smoldering mush.

She had declined both Alastor’s invitation to join him on his errand to the tailor’s and Charlie’s request for help recruiting Sinners to the hotel. Mina knew it was only proving Alastor right that she was causing there to be more space between them, but for the moment, she didn’t care. She physically needed a breather from him after their conversation that morning. And although Charlie’s pleading eyes had admittedly had a tiny effect on her, Mina knew she had to get away.

And Angel had been right there, offering to help her blow off some steam by mentioning he had a robust collection of guns and ammunition.

Instead of going to the gun range he liked to frequent, she showed her appreciation at his offer by taking him to her old stomping grounds.

Abaddon’s Pit.

Her employer and adoptive family member here in Hell didn’t often allow outsiders in but Mina had been part of the family long enough that her personal voucher was never questioned. And although she was no longer a Torturer, she still had free reign to come and go as she pleased.

So she talked to a couple of her old coworkers that she was still close with and got her and Angel an hour with a dozen souls that were there to accept their punishments. She was careful to select ones that she hadn’t sent there herself, avoiding any potential of them recognizing her and giving her secret away. Best that the only thing they verbalize in front of Angel were begs for mercy and screams.

Angel, bless him, didn’t seem the least bit fazed at partaking in some torture. It was too bad he had sold his soul to Valentino before he had caught Abaddon’s attention because he would have been good at this.

“So, this is what happens to Sinners and Hellborn’s when they try to get to Earth, huh?” he asked, as he finished shooting at a rather large bull demon and went to reload. “Gotta say, I don’t see why anyone would take the risk. It’s like, literally the only rule we gotta follow. And what’s so great up there anyway?”

Mina shrugged, “Mostly drugs. There’s a black market for selling Hellish products on Earth, and that, predictably, mostly consists of drugs. But a few of them, like this fucker,” she pointed with her gun as a fresh body materialized on Angel’s board, a cottonmouth demon he had already blown apart a couple times. “Are so racist or homophobic or some other flavor of bigot they think Hell is too progressive and they try to claw their way back up to the surface.”

“Reeaaally?” Angel asked. “And this is what you did for like . . . decades? You actually got paid to torture Hell’s Greatest Dickheads?”

“And the more creative, the better,” Mina said, and held down her trigger until the gun was empty again.

“That . . . is so fucking awesome,” he said, before he raised his own gun and hesitated. “You know, I think I’ll go a bit slower with this one.”

His tommy gun vanished and out came a rather large pistol that must have already had a round in the chamber because Angel simply aimed and fired. The hissing demon in front of him screamed out in fresh agony as his crotch darkened with crimson.

Mina smiled with pride at Angel. He really would have fit right in with her here.

___

Their walk back to the hotel was a lot more subdued; Mina was lost in her own thoughts of the past and Angel had a set of his arms wrapped around himself as if against some cold draft. That was the problem with torture. It was the best way to blow off steam but it could also leave one feeling incredibly burnt out if they weren’t careful.

She noticed after a while that her new friend tended to look awfully unhappy when he thought no one was looking. It was a feeling she could relate to, at least this last week, and she suddenly felt awful about how a couple of their last conversations had gone, and that wouldn’t do. She hated feeling like she was in the wrong.

“Angel, I think I owe you an apology.” He looked at her in confusion, but his cloudy demeanor had vanished as soon as she had his attention. “I got a bit touchy this morning over nothing and the other day . . . well. I suppose it was a bit overboard to threaten to ‘cauterize your holes’.” She mumbled the last bit, feeling awkward in her shame.

“Aww, shucks toots, it’s no big deal,” Angel said, laughing. “I could learn to back off a bit myself. You’re just so cute and little most of the time, it’s easy to forget how spicy you can be. But that’s probably what Smiles sees in ya’, ain’t it?”

He was trying to be playful and lighten the mood, but Mina felt her face heating up, his words having a very unintended effect on her.

“Shit,” Angel said, immediately noticing the change in her, “I’m sorry, I’ll stop bringing him up.”

They walked in silence for a few more paces, just getting into view of the hotel, before Angel spoke again.

“Okay, actually, I got one more thing to say and then I promise, it’s nadda from me until you say otherwise.”

Mina huffed and stopped walking but said, “Alright fooiinne,” in her heaviest accent, “get on wit’ it.”

“Look, maybe I’m way off here. And whatever I’m about to say, I’m not saying you shouldn’t be upset about the fact that he’s not being upfront about everything. But the only thing that’s obvious about Alastor, to everyone else in that hotel but you, is that he loves you. He may be a scheming, secretive bastard, and super fucking creepy half the time, but what he feels for you . . . that’s the good shit that doesn’t come around often. Your relationship may not be perfect right now but this is Hell, Doll face, and most of us? We’d kill to have someone who looks at us the way he looks at you when you walk into a room.”

Mina felt her chin begin to quiver as she fought back tears, refusing to let them spill. She had cried so many times in the last seven years she wasn’t sure how she had any left. So she took a deep breath and forced them to stay put.

“Why do you think I’m still at that shit hole of a hotel?” she said, forcing herself to crack a smile.

Angel chuckled softy, obviously relieved she hadn’t broken down.

“Whaddya mean? I thought it was for my charming personality and good looks?”

She laughed out loud and Angel pulled her in for a side hug and they were just about to continue walking when suddenly they found themselves on a darkened street that had succumbed to a sudden power outage.

“What the fuck?” Angel said, looking around them as their eyes adjusted to the dull red light from the sky.

“I think I have an idea,” Mina said and pointed to the brightly lit up hotel on the hill above.

Angel raised an eyebrow. “What, you think your man caused a city-wide power failure?”

Mina just shrugged and continued walking. “It tends to happen whenever he and Vox get into it. I was beginning to wonder how long it would take the V’s to figure out Alastor was back. Like oil and water, those two.”

“No way,” Angel said in disbelief, “I’ve worked for Valentino for forever now and I never hear him talking about it.”

“The other V’s stay out of it. Hell, I stay out of it. Alastor really did try at one time . . . it’s . . . Well, it’s complicated. And a bit sad, to be honest. But yeah, whenever they bump into each other nowadays, this is usually the result.” Mina gestured to the darkness around them. “Used to happen all the time.”

“Seriously? That means that all those rolling black outs that happened, what? Like a decade ago . . . oh my God!” Angel doubled over laughing. “Your weird ass husband got me so many days off work, Val was pissed! Ha, that’s fucking great! Hey, you think he could do it again next Tuesday? There’s this thing called a donkey show and-“

Once inside, Mina couldn’t stop her feet from taking her right up to the top of the hotel and up into Alastor’s Radio tower. His shadow met her near the entrance and practically danced along the wall next to her. Clearly, it was very pleased with itself, and she reached her hand out to touch it, trailing her fingers along the wall as the two of them moved down the hallway together.

She found Alastor lounging in his seat, his feet crossed and resting on the control panel in front of him.

“Up to trouble?” she asked, earning a small laugh from him.

“Only the best kind, my love.”

Mina leaned against the wall across from his and crossed her arms. Though her expression was relaxed, she made a point of not responding to him just to see if he would offer up any more information unprompted for once.

Alastor took his feet off the panel before him and spun around in his chair to face her. His smile was a knowing one, showing that he was aware of the intent behind her silence but it didn’t bother him.

“It wasn’t much, really,” he began. “Just Vox trying and failing as usual for a power grab. I simply used the opportunity to broadcast the fact that The Radio Demon,” he opened his arms wide for show, the static effect on his voice growing heavier “is back in business.” After a beat, his eyes narrowed, and he continued. “And where did you run off to?”

“To The Pit,” Mina said easily, and her own smile widened as his eyebrows shot up in surprise. She knew that he knew that she was keeping her own secrets and that he suspected they involved Abaddon, so she let him sit with her admission for a second longer before she added, “I took Angel shooting there, just for fun. The targets there are far more lifelike, as you know.”

“And how is our old friend?” Alastor asked pointedly, speaking of Abaddon.

“Getting along as usual, I suppose, though I didn’t see them today.”

“Today,” he repeated, “well, they should be getting along great if their best employees are now working for them for free.”

Mina tossed her hands up in the air.

“Why do you insist on being such a stubborn tosser every time their name comes up? Honestly, love, I thought you would be in a good mood now, that’s why I came up here.”

“I’m in a wonderful mood,” he said defensively, “and I was in a good mood this morning, too.”

Her shoulders dropped as she felt something in her soften. She was just so tired. It was exhausting always being angry with him and constantly trying to outwit him in arguments. For over a week now, she had been swinging back and forth between wanting to fight him and wanting to fuck him and suddenly she wanted neither. She just wanted the man she loved to hold her.

Alastor, astutely clued into her moods as of late, noticed the change and, never one to waste an opportunity when presented, stood up.

“And what kind of radio show host am I? Not playing any music, how shameful.”

A snap of his finger and sounds of soft jazz filled the room. Mina recognized it as a favorite ballad of his to slow dance to. It didn’t have lyrics, which as a singer and poet, Mina usually found distasteful, but she had to admit, as Alastor took her hand and led her to the middle of the room, she appreciated the absence of words now as it gave her mind more space to focus on the body pressed against hers.

Alastor and Mina did not share the same love languages. Hers was physical touch; she needed to be held, kissed, touched, fucked; to reinforce a connection and though Alastor was certainly capable of providing that, he more often showed his affections through more subtle forms. An act of service, a show of vulnerability, private quality time; they all meant just as much to him as a passionate evening in bed.

He was choosing to slow dance with her alone in his tower rather than pick a petty fight over her old boss – who he really loved to hate – and for him, that was a massive display of devotion.

Mina rested her cheek against him as they swayed, savoring the moment. She knew this peace wouldn’t last long; eventually the secrets between them would drive them apart again. But as the song ended and transitioned to another and their dancing didn’t cease, Mina felt a glimmer of hope that this rift between them wasn’t permanent.

Angel’s words from earlier were still fresh in her mind, and she held onto Alastor just a little tighter as she mulled them over.

She could be an awful person. Had done truly horrific things to people whenever she felt justified in doing so. Her ability to cut ties with all empathy for a person could disturb even herself. But she loved this man. And although he was capable of even more heinous acts than herself, she knew in her bones he felt the same about her. They had always been each other’s exception to all their worst traits; the one thing in their lives they always chose to treat with tender care.

Not even the last seven years could undo that kind bond.

___

They had walked hand in hand through the hotel. Their private moment had to eventually come to an end, and they wordlessly decided to leave the radio tower together. The dance had been exactly what Alastor needed after such an invigorating day and he felt rather calm and sated.

Until they had come face to face with Sir Pentious, their new co-resident in redemption.

The demon was an absolute buffoon and Alastor did enjoy making a show of degrading him, but he did find it a bit insulting that Charlie seemed far more trusting of Pentious than she ever had of himself.

“Oh, love, it’s probably just because he’s the furthest thing from threatening,” Mina said when they had a moment alone on the sofa before Charlie’s next activity began. “Even when you’re not trying, you give off very threatening vibes.”

“Hmmm,” Alastor nodded, taking her words as a compliment, and leaning into the gentle one-handed back rub she was giving him. “I suppose I can’t help myself.”

She pulled away and Alastor immediately missed the contact.

“It’s a bit funny though, don’t you think? He shows up so soon after you’re fight with Vox.”

“It was hardly a fight,” Alastor corrected. “I wouldn’t even respect that interaction enough to call it an argument. But, yes, I was thinking much the same thing. That idiot is up to something, though I doubt he’s competent enough to pull anything off.”

Mina leaned into his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

“You could always use it to your advantage. Expose him for what he is and look the hero for it.”

“I do love the way your mind works,” he said, pressing a kiss between her ears, “but this time, I think I’m more in the mood to follow Charlie’s lead and then watch it blow up in her face. It’ll be entertaining and like I said,” Alastor sighed, sounding almost regretful, “it’s not like he’s going to cause any real damage around here.”

When the others joined them, Alastor sat upright through the whole ridiculous performance. Sir Pentious was as over the top and believable as a monkey dressed up in woman’s clothing, but it was still wildly entertaining to watch.

His poor, poor Charlie. She believed every word of it, too. The Hellborn clapped and cheered, so blindly desperate to believe in redemption that she was more convinced in the V’s puppet show than she was in the hotel’s only real resident.

She had all but abandoned hope in Angel, discarding him and even put his faults on display for everyone with the little skit she had written up. It was hilarious. Charlie was so easily manipulated into believing lies and giving up on her friends.

How . . . beneficial.

Mina had seemed genuinely upset when Angel had announced he was turning in early and she had wanted to scold Charlie for her negligence. Alastor held her back, telling her to let things simmer a little longer and assuring her that the spider could handle himself.

When everyone else had retired for the night, Mina had asked if he would join her, but he declined. He had told her he simply was still too wound up from the day and was planning on a few more hours in his tower to catch up on some work, but that was a lie on a couple of fronts.

Alastor was exhausted, not having truly slept since his return, and the surge of power he had sent out into the city hours before had nearly drained him of what was left. He also did not plan on getting any work on his station done, not with Pentious wandering about. So, he lingered in the shadows, utilizing the dimmed lights of the hotel to hide, and watched the drama unfold.

He saw it all; Pentious hiding the camera and Angel’s drunken confrontation with him. Vox’s outburst and Charlie’s act of forgiveness. It was all so delightful and once it was all over for the evening, Alastor joined with his shadow and headed straight for Mina’s room.

This was something he could tell her about and after how well things had gone between them that day, Alastor was sure it would seal the deal and help him gain her trust back completely. Once he had informed her of everything that had transpired, he would join her in bed and finally succumb to his body’s need for sleep. In the morning, he would make a point of moving the rest of his stuff into her room, and all would be right between them again.

He slipped beneath the frame of her bedroom door and solidified at the foot of her bed. What he saw made his smile strain unnaturally across his features and his ears pin back.

The bed was made up and empty.

Mina had fucking left . . . again.

Next Chapter ->

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor x oc #alastor hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader #the fire in the sin

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cressthebest · 3 months ago

Text

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 47

chapter 72:

1. “The day of Marlene's memorial is the first time Dorcas decides she's going to kill herself.” oh shit, oh fuck wait

2. bro dorcas is unwell. like holy shit. i forget that the war started because of dorcas’ love for marlene. like. this is just as much of a dorlene fic too

3. dear god i wanna help dorcas so badly

4. call it instinct, but i knew dorcas’ hair would be a crucial part of her healing journey 💃🏼💃🏼

5. i love well rounded female characters but at what cost. dorcas is well rounded but at what cost? she’s suffering and it hurts to read

6. god damn. finding out that dorcas’ mom was in charge of a quarterly quell is fucking insane. considering that dorcas all but ran the resistance

7. “”You said it first, didn't you? There are no good people in war. I lived by those words, did you know that? All that you were wrong about, but that…" She gives a brittle laugh. "You were right about that."”

foaming at the mouth oh my god. i wanna chomp glass

8. DORCAS NO! (she started drinking fyi)

9. dear god dorcas, you aren’t the only one who knew the “real” marlene. people other than you loved her.

10. dorcas finally admitting that if she could choose someone other than dorcas it would be lily hurts. especially since lily has mary.

11. “Marlene was the love of her life, and that's it. Simple as that. She'll never love another.” OWWWWW

12. “She will make sure Lily never knows that Dorcas looks at her now and thinks before this life, it could have been us; maybe in some other life, it is. And that's more than enough.”

DNDNSMMSJSKEJNS AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

13. brb i’m sobbing

okay i’m back. dorcas just found out marlene was gonna propose and now i’m a sniveling mess

14. so much thanks to bizzarestars making the effort to learn about the way war vets healed and dealt with ptsd

chapter 73:

1. sirius having an emotional support dog >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

2. also imma make predictions now: this is the chapter where sirius goes home. it’s time

3. YES YES YES YES THEYRE GOING HOME FUCK YEAH

4. “A homely little home with a porch-swing under the stars. Sirius is homesick for that, too.”

this is my dream too. like it’s been my dream for so long. i can’t even fathom how sirius isn’t bawling like a baby over this. IM bawling like a baby over THEIR porch swing

5. regulus saw sirius and was willing to risk it all just to hug him omg

6. “Barty was the sort of person who needed no outside guidance into being a bit insane.” LMAOOOOOO

7. they’re running a business together and they’re gonna do it forever and now i want to gnaw on wood and glass and plastic and anything i can get my hands on

8. lmao not sirius sitting like a spoiled puppy dog as james and regulus argue over him for the wedding

9. “"Oh, please," James scoffs, rolling his eyes. "One, I'm not stealing your brother away from you, and you know it. Two, who the fuck else would be my best man, hm? Who? Go on."

"Oh, you want to go there?!" Regulus shouts. "What about me? Yeah, didn't think about that, did you? My best friend is dead. Oh, and so is Barty. Who do I have, James? Hm?"”

FUCKING CACKLING

10. awwwww sirius’ compromise is so sweet omg. i’d literally cry if i was james and regulus

11. ugh gay people are so confusing. like you’re allowed to be freinds with the same people and freinds with any gender. so like, it makes wedding planning so hard. who goes on who’s side? what if i said that when i found out about gay people, my biggest hold up wasn’t religion or anything like that, but instead wedding side logistics

12. canonical genderqueer tonks!!!!!!!!!

13. regulus went to aberforth to cause a scene, and damn if he didn’t succeed

14. damn they’re both stubborn. and both got their way jfc

15. full circle. dorcas is designing their wedding clothes. i’m losing my mind, actually

16. the bookshelf. the fucking bookshelf from the first arena. i’m losing my mind oh my god

17. CACKLING OMG. REGULUS WAS WORRIED THAT JAMES WOULD BE SCARED OF THE DAGGERS, BUT INSTEAD HE GOT SO FUCKING TURNED ON OMG

18. STILL FUCKING CACKLING OMG

19. i didn’t know i needed insecure james, but oh i did

20. i get to read the crimson rivers jegulus wedding and oh my fucking god i’m losing it. i am so unbelievably happy

21. “For him, it's easiest to show love when it's a tragedy.”

dksjdjjsjdjsmdjske holy shit

22. “You're hesitating, love."”

AHDHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

23. “You might wish to know a lot of things about their wedding, and their love, but frankly, it's no one's business but theirs.” so feral over this. that’s literally one of the biggest themes of the story omg i love this

24. hi, anyways, i am so unwell

25. the authors notes about the wedding are golden

#marauders #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #sirius black #crimson rivers #james and sirius #dorcas meadowes

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aziraphales-library · 2 months ago

Text

Lost Fic #200

1. Hi! Idk if you can help me but I trying to find this one specific fic. I think the plot was gabirel and sandalphon try to ruin aziraphale and crowley’s reputation by yelling that they’re gay in public but literally no one cares and they get chewed out for it by an elderly couple. I’m pretty sure that it’s either a one shot or like two/three chapters and that it’s pre season 2. Idk if this helps. Thanks! - anon

2. Lost a fic that I can't remember much about but it had multiple chapters, Aziraphale and Crowley through the years, and some female presenting. I remember there was a scene where they were on a boat and it flipped, due to Crowley leaning in for a kiss. There's also mentions of Aziraphale's diary and feelings for Crowley. Another scene was a picnic and almost kiss. Eventually they talked it out and realized they loved each other and Aziraphale asked Crowley if she intended for them to almost kiss on the boat. I think it's on Ao3? No idea. - @spaceypotato19

3. Hii, first of all thanks so much for all the work you do here!! I am looking for a fic and I can't find it in my bookmarks or using the tags of this blog. It was a cinderella au but with a a/b/o twist. Azi was the omega and to go to the dance anathema uses a potion or smth to make it look like hes an alpha and A and C meet and they fall in love and marry but eventualy C descovers the truth and there was a kidnapping or smth. I also remember C calling omegas in general very clingy and A taking offense and such. It was a long fic, probably 80k+ I belive Thanksss! - @just-here-doing-something

4. Hi! I'm hoping you can help me find a fic. It's a sequel (although i can't find part 1 either) where Crowley accidentally switches to female genitals. He freaks out because he didn't think Aziraphale will want him anymore, so he freezes time and runs away. The other moment I remember is that it turns out Crowley has not been killing plants. Rather he puts them on his balcony for "retirement." It has a happy ending. I how you can help, because it's driving me crazy! Thanks!! - anon

5. Hello :3 I am aware that you are all very busy but I thought I'd shoot my shot. A friend and I were talking about a specific plotline of a fic that we both remember, it being Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship with their own mothers being a representation of their relationship with God in the original work. We remember that Crowley was jealous of Aziraphale's unconditional and undying love for his mother even though he never knew her cause she died when he was really young and was raised by his grandfather, hence why he's so old fashioned, because his own mother was really crappy and threw him out of the house when he was young. This talk made me want to read it again, but neither of us can remember the title or the main plot apart from this one thing. If anyone has any idea what he could be, please let me know!! (And thank you in advance to anyone who can help) I feel like I should also mention, at some point Crowley goes into Aziraphale's room and sees pictures of him as a baby with his mother looking very happy on his bedside table and that's when he starts feeling jealous. There's also a bunch of other childhood pictures of Aziraphale on there but the most important one is the one with his mother. (also, it was a human au, if that helps) If you could help me find it, I would be ever so grateful. Thank you so much! - @sunlecitron

If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)

- Mod D

#good omens #lost fic #ineffable husbands #mod d

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valeriianz · 5 months ago

Note

For the fic writer asks:

4. Obviously you did research for BitB. I'd love you to ramble about it if you like I'm sure you've got STORIES

5. Did you outline it?

7. How'd you decide it would be Hob's pov?

25-27 I'd love to know a/some favorite lines, details, and any lore you might want to share

omg TJ what wonderful questions! thank you!! this is going to get LONG!

4: Rambling about research!

do you wanna see a screen shot of my bookmarks under my "band au" folder?

man, and that's only what could fit on the screen.

there is... SO MUCH i chose to ignore for this fic. ideas that i had to drop, lines or extra details about the other band members equipment. more logistics, what Lucienne actually does, what Mervyn has to put up with as the new touring stage manager... i realized very early on that i couldn't possibly cram all this (super cool and eye opening) information into the fic and still keep reader's interest and, most importantly, to not stray away from the fact that this is a dreamling fic. whenever i felt myself getting carried away with a side character or job or even social media numbers, gossip, outside POVs, i had to reign myself in and get back on track. there will be time for exploring everything i missed in side stories after BitB is finished. i just hope i still have the energy to write it all.

once, i was so deep into research that after publishing chapter 2, i went into work and when my chef asked what "GA" meant on my prep list, i answered with full confidence, "general admission."

(it means "get ahead.")

the worst part of this entire writing process is im still learning new shit. i havent rewatched or read a lot of what i've saved because, to be very honest, i was feeling a little burnt out. it's why we're kinda full steam dreamling now. it's why ive been glossing over a lot of technical stuff and being vague about conversations amongst the crew/not including it at all. i don't prefer ignoring my research, but at the end of the day i want to still enjoy writing this fic and finish it. even if i can't be as descriptive and detailed and nuanced as i used to be.

5: Did you outline the fic?

(also asked by @hardly-an-escape!)

i wouldn't call what i have a proper "outline," it's more like a 20k word document filled to the brim with notes that i skim at least a dozen times while i'm writing a new chapter (being in my brain is literally hell). i live multichapter life very dangerously. i copy and paste lines or sections (always scattered, never together! augh!) that are meant to go together and plop them in a new document titled "band au ch.#" and then i structure the chapter around what i want to happen.

but to answer this question in the plainest of terms: yeah. i know exactly what's going to happen up until the very end. even if its all in my head and the only concrete shit that's written down are beats/plot points. i'll figure out the rest later!

7: How'd you decide it would be Hob's POV?

i actually never even considered writing it from Dream's POV. this was my first fic in the fandom (which is so nuts to think about lol) and writing in Dream's POV sounded so scary lol. i also just thought Hob's would be easier because i have worked a few backstage shows, back in my college years. i figured eh, i can make this work. and i loved exploring how weird and mysterious musicians can be, from a normie's POV. making Hob a fan first and having him worry about developing a parasocial relationship... it was fun to explore.

25: Share your favorite line

oh god, i have so many haha.

“What are you thinking about?” starting in ch.2 and onward lmao

“It’s–” Dream laughs quietly, bitterly. “I don’t like change.” He says each word with emphasis, eyes trailing down to fixate somewhere past Hob. “And I still hold onto the things I can control, like my instruments–” his eyes swing up to regard Hob apologetically. “Or my clothes or my–” he brings a hand up and wiggles his fingers around his head. “My hair.” ch.4

"His majesty is pleased." ch.5

“You are obsessive,” he states, slow and cool and with a quiet smile cracking through his composure. “Just like me.” ch.7

“You look good.” Hob has to lean in to say so, unwilling to raise his voice amongst the roar of the fans. ch.11

“Del looks like porcelain, but she’s actually made of steel.” Desire swirls the contents of their glass before pushing their shoulders back with a deep breath. “She's tougher than all of us.” ch.11

“Everything. I want…” his fingers tighten in Hob’s hair, pulling him closer, speaking against his lips. “…Everything.” ch.14

26: Share your favorite detail

how intentionally coy Dream behaves. i love keeping him a mystery and deciding when and how much to allow his intentions to peek through has been so fun lol.

Despair is in fact covered in tattoos and piercings! i say this because i feel like sometimes i forget lmao. (but also her and Hob don't interact much so. my bad haha).

Delirium's constant explosion of color in the way she dresses <3

Hob's dedication to his job, Dream, and the people he cares about the most. i don't care if people think i'm making him too soft and good, im gonna project on that man and make him a sweet, sweet simp lmao

and ah, this doesn't matter anymore, and i kinda regret doing it but. i originally had Dream's favorite bass all black but the pickguard was white. so it actually looked like Jessamy. not gonna lie when @designtheendless drew it all black i decided i liked it better that way. and truly i do. that's when i went back to ch.1 and changed it haha. to actually see the guitar with Dream, all done up sparkling black and purple flecks... gosh it's just so him. but then i got up to the reveal that the guitar's name was Jessamy and i was like, "oh, right." lmao. no one seems to care so i'll leave it be.

27: Share a piece of lore you made up for the story

i have a lot lmao. and this post is already so long... im hoping i can get to some if not all of it in side fics in the future. but for now, here's some that's more like headcanons but:

Dream hates flying. he can full on go into panic attacks on the plane if he allows himself to get into his own head.

this was mentioned briefly in ch.4, while Dream was discussing the formation of the band, but Despair was in another band before joining Endless. she is the only character in the fic who gets to keep her English roots (lol sorry) and is the oldest in the band (30).

all of the band members ages: Dream, Desire, and Death are all 28 and Delirium is 22.

Dream can experience subdrop after going too hard during a performance.

Dream paints his own nails, it's very therapeutic.

as an exercise, i explored my own headcanons for Dream in this verse in a word doc, and one thing i will share from it that you might find interesting: If I were to ever give Dream a theological values, I would describe him as a satanist. He is a physical and pragmatic person, nonconforming, and although he is introverted, he enjoys being a part of a community (he loves his band).

also found this in my notes: How Desire and Dream got along was Death making them fight it out. Hob raises an eyebrow “like in a brawl?” He couldn't imagine Desire throwing hands. “No, in a pillow fight that escalated in hair pulling and verbal taunts.”

fic writer asks

#yooooo #this took me a long time to answer lol #i gotta go to bed but #THANK YOU SO MUCH TJ!!#dreamling #(why not. there's a lot here let put it out into the main tag!)#fic: bolt in the blue #im so satisfied ahhh thanks again #:)

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celestie0 · 2 months ago

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If someone looked at me the way Gojo was looking at Y/N after ugly crying I think I’d be carrying their kids tbh…

Poor Y/N is so scared to let someone in she puts up wall after wall the moment things get a bit too real 😭 but I get her. Every meaningful relationship in her life has been “temporary” (for lack of a better word) so far: her father left them, Choso abandoned her the moment he wanted Yuna’s pussy (although he was gone way before that), and her mom can’t really be there for her anymore through no fault of her own. I get why she has walls up when it comes to Gojo, they entered the relationship knowing it wasn’t real so why set yourself up for the inevitable hurt when it’s over.

The guilt of lying to someone you love even though you know it’s probably for the best is so painful, I hope Y/N allows herself some grace. Mourning your parents so young, at any age really is never easy and she’s doing it all alone too. I hope she has the happiest of endings because I feel like she’s going to need all the support she can get as her mom’s illness progresses 😭

Y/N is so much stronger than me because I’d probably have taken him up on that sex to blow off steam option even if he wasn’t being serious (I feel like he’d be so down though) 🤷🏽‍♀️

I’m super excited to see how their relationship progresses. The emotional connection they’re developing is actually extending my lifespan.

Thank you so much for the chapter, this is genuinely one of the best works I’ve ever read so I sincerely thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing your work with us 🥰 I hope you’re doing well and that life is treating you amazingly! Can’t wait for the next chapter, I know it’ll be fantastic

(P.S - his mom’s wedding ring fitting her perfectly had be kicking and blushing 😭 if that isn’t a sign they’re meant to be then IDK WHAT IS)

hi my love oh gosh i could CRY!!!!!!!!!! this ask made me so happy because you 100% hit on like literally every single point that i wanted to emphasize in the chapter and also even managed to predict things that are to come as well??? i ask for your hand in marriage pleaaasseeeee 💍💍

HAHA yes i liked writing the parts where she’s like basically just blowing her nose on him 😂

aaaaaaa yess she definitely has sm walls up bc of how many people have left her and/or betrayed her, i think an additional heartbreak is the fact that she is literally a night shift nurse who saves lives, but isn’t even helped by the very system that she serves (healthcare)…i would be so jaded if i were her too :”( but tysm for having empathy for her!! i think it would take a very patient person to be w her n i def think ihm gojo is that guy hahah

YES ihm will have a sweet ending and we will see as the series progresses that reader softens and starts to reclaim her life once more :) but you’re so right! one of the devastating things about caring for a loved one w dementia is weighing the white lies vs the potential distress over relaying the truth…having grace w oneself is def so important

LOL ya i think he would be so down too 😂 it’s funny cause like? reader? girl? i mean you’re already stressed tf out why not at least get eaten out on a regular basis while you’re at it LOL (the time will come)

ouuu i’m so happy you enjoyed the chapter n thanks so much for interacting so meaningfully w it 🥺 a lot of stuffs u touched on in this ask are elaborated much further in what i have planned for series so i’m so excited to bring that to you!! much loveee (and yes the wedding ring fitting was literally a sign from god LOL)

#in holy matriphony #in holy matriphoky ch4 #makimais #asks

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greenerteacups · 11 months ago

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Hi! Just wanted to say the latest chapter is lovely & amazing & sweet & had me smiling the whole time! I absolutely love your characterisation of everyone, especially Draco, so it was so so lovely to return to this world & to his thoughts!! with his best friend and crush at malfoy manor no less! All the yearning is already off to a great start hehe I am so excited for the rest of book 5!

Wanted to ask you how has it been for you to write this new book and volume? Has your writing process changed since when you’d first begun taking on a long form project like this?

& also are there any moments or surprises in this book that you’re especially excited about?

sending so much love & gratitude for you and your incredible works 💓

Thank you so much! This is really encouraging, I so appreciate it.

Inasmuch as I can use this metaphor without having kids myself, I sort of see each of the books as a different child. The first one flew out in basically a few weeks of very intensive writing, and it was a total dream — plot, pacing, symbolism, major beats, all fell into place basically without effort. The character stuff was the hardest, as I've written about before, but even then, the glorious part of writing beginnings is it's the most energy you'll ever have for a project, so the lows were pretty soft lows. Book 2, in contrast, I had to drag kicking and screaming by its ankle from under the bottommost mattress of my brain. It's one of my least favorite books (tone problem; COS has killer plot/setting/ingredients for a YA novel, but it's stuck in the doldrums of Harry Potter's well-documented Early-Installment Weirdness, before Cedric Diggory slams the gas and upshifts the whole series into its correct age bracket). More specifically, once I'd gone through and picked out everything in the book that happened because of Lucius, I didn't have a plot — hey alexa how do you rewrite Chamber of Secrets when We Got No Fucking Chamber Of Secrets — and oh by the way, even if you want to do a moody tone/political setup book, remember that your protagonists are still twelve, so if you go too dark or too intense, you'll risk torpedoing your readers' suspension of disbelief. Good luck, Charlie.

Book 3 felt the most like its own novel, if that makes sense? It's the last truly feel-good book of the series; it's a great stand-alone mystery novel with relatively low stakes. Plus you get a bunch of the big series icons: patronuses, dementors, werewolves, Hogsmeade, the Marauders' Map, and time turners arithmancy. It just felt like a good old-fashioned motherfucking romp of a mystery/adventure story, before any of the complex character work and major stakes of the late books come in.

Book 4 was the most fun I've had writing anything maybe ever. I don't even know what it was. Maybe the tournament arc, honestly? Love me a tournament arc. But in any case, I opened every new chapter feeling a tingle of excitement for what I was gonna get to do. Oh, and the romance started, finally, Jesus God (if it feels like a slow burn reading, just imagine what it felt like writing it, when everything takes ten times as long, and you have to figure out how to word the fucker.)

Book 5, in contrast, has felt much less like that tingle of "here we go!" and more like "oh, man, this is gonna be cool." Because this is the arc of the story that composed the original idea for Lionheart, literally years ago, and to be honest, I didn't think I'd get this far! If you'd asked me "do you know that it's going to take you 500,000 words of backstory before you can start writing that concept you're thinking about, and you're going to do it anyway?" I would have said: "absolutely not, strange mind-reader!" But like... I'm here! Finally! And it's... real now? Like, this isn't just a bunch of clips of scenes in my head anymore! That's rad!

That being said, it's definitely been slower than Book 4, because I kept switching back to my outline document to make sure that certain things were set up properly, and that I hadn't lost any of the plot threads or forgotten a minor beat that was vitally important for the story three chapters later. And I had a minor crisis about three months ago when I ripped out about 8 chapters in the first third of the book — basically everything from September to December — because I'd done a readthrough to check pacing (big mistake! never edit while drafting, that's satan talking) and realized I had a missing storyline. Like, there was a whole layer of the story that was just. Missing. Not there. And the existing text really couldn't fit another thread, so instead of taking weeks to pore through and try to sift out what I could save, I needed to factory reset and start over. And I didn't want to! I vividly remember sitting there with my head in my hands, trying not to weep, because I'd decimated 90,000 words of work in a single edit. But it had to be done. Because the story wasn't going to work. And now (hopefully) it will.

And of course, there's still that sense of excitement and exhilaration from before. Always. But whereas Book 4 felt like a delicious chocolate pudding, Book 5 is a medium-rare steak.

(Book 6, so far, is four shots of espresso and a whiskey chaser. FWIW.)

#greenteacup asks #lionheart #lionheart spoilers #dramione

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anachilles · 3 months ago

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Hi!!

Just read all of your firehouse!au and I’m obsessed!

I saw your post about Chick observing them once they’re in a relationship and being pleased with the way he sees Gale take care of John.

Curious if you have any moments planned/HC of ways John takes care of Gale in this universe?

Loved the chapter where John helps out at the bar after seeing Gale is still a bit sick/behind on school btw! Does he ever get to be Gale’s person in those vulnerable moments?

Thanks for writing this and sharing it! (will be re-reading by next week LOL)

Hi anon!

First of all: thank you so much for the Firehouse love! I'm so so glad you're enjoying the story! 🥰

In terms of the ways in which John takes care of Gale, in my mind it mirrors the way we see it even just in the actual canon events of the show, just in a modern context where they're allowed to kiss lol.

As you've touched on, he's an acts of service fiend. Gale's very hyper-independent, by virtue of having to be growing up, and so John always gets a little thrill when he can anticipate something he might need before he even realises it himself - or something he has realised but won't just outright ask John for - and take care of it.

This often goes hand-in-hand with John's magpie-like tendencies and his inability to walk into any store without seeing something to bring back for Gale, something that either reminds him of him, or something that he knows he either needs or simply would enjoy. Like John will text him on his way home asking if he wants anything from the store because hey, he has to stop anyway, and Gale will say no but God knows John will come back with his favourite chocolate bar or a packet of Milano cookies.

(because it'll be a cold day in hell before Gale Cleven and his notorious sweet tooth will ever be able to pass up sweets, lol).

Assorted Other Ways In Which John Takes Care of Gale:

Contrary to popular belief, Gale does in fact have a car, and can actually drive. Not that you'd think that if you only met him after he and Bucky got together. Driving Buck around as much as possible is, like, part of Bucky's love language at this point (Gale's an incredibly competent driver but he's also a bit of a menace when it comes to speed and risky manoeuvres). Living that passenger princess life fr.

Growing to love Maverick like his own, even if he is to some extent "the spare human" in her eyes, lol. Takes care of her when Gale's not there without even thinking about it. When Gale gets home from campus, or the bar late at night, and finds the two of them lounging on the couch with Mav sprawled across Bucky's chest 🥺

In a literal, material, sense Bucky has tried to help Gale out financially in the past - whether that be a bit of help with the bills, groceries etc ("because hey, I come around here so much, I may as well contribute"), or by insisting on paying for stuff on their dates. He doesn't really think twice about it, it isn't a big deal to him - he's by no means rich but he has a decent job and is well off enough. Gale does okay but he's still studying and working essentially two jobs. It just makes sense to him, but it's one of the only things that causes real friction between them because it can make Gale feel uncomfortable.

Speaking of Gale working on a PhD and doing some teaching at the university and doing bar work - he inevitably gets burnt out. Where he'd push through before by hook or by crook, Bucky's getting better at prying him away from his laptop when he's been going at it for so long he's starting to look stuck, or frustrated, or tired. Makes sure he eats. On the days where Gale has to wear all three hats it's making sure the little things needing done around the house are done so he doesn't have to worry about them.

#📝: firehouse!au #that's what i have for now but may update this!!!#clegan #also i’m so sorry i’m so late replying to this. i hope you see this anon!!

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regulusrules · 2 years ago

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Hi! Okay so you seem like a very well-read person and I’d love to know if you have a list of your favorite Merlin fics. I just bookmarked all the ones you recommended in relation to the 10 best episodes and now I need more! I’m going on a training camp and would love to have something fairly long to download to my kindle so I can read on flights and when I don’t have data 🥰

Thanks so much in advance!

(Also, I LOVE your writing, I’m so glad to be part of this fandom with talented people like you!)

Hey! Thank you so much for your kind words! OF COURSEE I'd love to recommend you some fics! Likewise— the creativity of this fandom never ceases to amaze me :)

*cracks knuckles and pretends my eyes aren't lighting up rn because my time has finally come*

Long fic recs (50K-100K+)

1. to the world that never let you be by ImperialMint. Look. I'll hand out my own throat so willingly to any scar reveal fic. The trope is just so dear to my heart, and this one in particular was something else. It broadly covered every single feeling you might be looking for in a Merlin fic, and its characterization of both Arthur and Merlin was top tier. I basically sell my soul to any fic that does justice to their characterization, and this one did so much more than that.

2. What I'd Have Done by @flight-of-fantasy. I solemnly swear you will never read something like this fic. I read it in one day from how on edge I was all the time. I had to recount it to my friends in the timespan of three hours because of how much screaming and dramatic pauses there was. Simply, the brilliance of plot here is unmatched. Arthur's characterization as a strategist shook my innards, and Merlin's unapologetic nature was chef's kiss. It's so hard not to give away the plot while recommending this so just.. just read it.

3. Redemption by flakedice, Zerda. Soon, you will find a parallel post to the best 10 episodes with the worst 10, featuring first and foremost The Disir. Honest to God, I could literally go on ages ranting about how much agony this episode brought me. It was the blow that awoke my eyes to the possibility of fuck, this show isn't going to end well. I once thought about shitting on that episode like I did with 5×13 in My heart is readily yours, but fics like these hold me back because they already gave us everything. It gave us the ending we deserved. Gold. Everything in this was gold. The world building, the character development, the fact that Arthur has been given time. Truly a fix-it that fix-ed my heart.

4. Talking about deviations from The Fucking Disir, The World I Built for You by Fulgance is a must. It was the first fic I've read from the How They Didn't Find Out (magic reveal one-shots) series, and from then on I was * s o l d *. Whichever fic you decide to read from this, I guarantee you, you will have the time of your life. Fulgance is the one author I will always recommend without a shadow of a doubt. There is not a single work of theirs that will disappoint you. They will only break you.

5. Deep In My Heart I'm Concealing by @citharaposts. True story about this fic, I squealed when I read its summary. “I'm not standing here as a king, Merlin!” was the quickest catalyst to ever make me start a fic. I specifically wrote a spoiler-free comment for the author and left it in the first chapter so that anyone who's thinking about whether or not to go into yet another 100K fic will rest assured that it's an amazing ride. Have real fun with this one.

6. It Was One Kingdom, Once by queerofthedagger. Two things, if they happen, you leave everything behind and go thank your God for blessing you with it: @queerofthedagger posting a new Merlin fic, and it being a Royal Hanahaki AU. Like so many other tropes the author has nailed, this was the best Hanahaki I've ever read (across fandoms). It's so intricate and detailed and the world building is on another level. If our world was burning and I had only one thing to save, it'll be the works of this author.

Hope I helped, and hope you have so much fun in your camp!◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕

[Short fic recs]

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kinja145 · 14 hours ago

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The evil has been defeated ; the french translation of DLTD is complete !!!!!!!

It has been almost 9 years since I started it. I was in my first year of highschool when I started, I've gratuated, I went to university for 3 years, graduated again, and now I'm working. It has been a long, long thing to do. I did it with passion, but sometimes I feel like I wasn't as much implicated in the translation of some chapters compared to others, but I still loved it from start to end. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to stay so implicated and how I didn't just abandon the project ! But at the end, DLTD is always somehwere in my thoughts, I just can't escape it lol DLTD is a story, a fandom, I can't quite seem to leave. I've been way less into it these past few years, but everytime I came back to it, it felt like home and it still does. I think I've felt almost every emotion with DLTD, and I'm not just talking about the first part, but DLTD as a whole. I don't have the words to drescribe how much this story means to me, how it changed my brain chemistry.

I know the story isn't perfect, God knows I can tell that. But I just accept it with its flaws and kind of cringe parts that are so reminiscent of 2010s ! Without DLTD there is no drawings from me, or at least less, and probably not so much progression. So DLTD saved my imagination in a way, even tho time and energy is missing now that I'm working but I still love to draw for it. Thinking back on those 8 years, I'm amazed to see how obsessed I was with it. I did a comic adaptation of the first chapter, an ending, a parody I never finished with Daniel, dozens of fanart, a discord (that didn't really work but it's still out there !). I met lot of people, including my beta reader YuuKyun whom I haven't heard from for almost 3-4 years now. I really, really hope she is okay and will reappear someday. Big kudos to her, she was so helpful in the early years ! This translation wouldn't exist without @burakkuenjeru19. She is the reason I even started translating it. So kudos to her. She also listened to me yapping about DLTD for all those years, and yapped back so yeah, really kudos. This story has literally marked me. Even today, we still quote the lizard in the toaster from chapter 2 with my friends (iconic !), and more parts of the story. We had so so much fun reading the story together, giving each other a character to voice. We did it again a few weeks ago for old time sake, and it was still so wholesome !! The chapters aren't all out right now, but I'll start posting one chapter per day in december. Wich makes me think ; ever since 2016, I've always had at least 10 chapters of advance on the publication. I think I can take pride in that uwu As for DLTP, I don't know for now if I'll get to it. It's just a whole lot of work, way more than the first part. But I feel like I'll miss it so maybe there's a world where I start the translation of it too. I'm just not making any promesses !

And to end this post, I have to thanks the one and only : @hateweasel

I don't even know what to say to thank you, Hate. You brought to me and to many more people so much with your story and your imagination. Your interest for the surnatural stuck with me and you put it so well into the story, I just love the fact that you don't represent surnaturals as monsters. Yeah, they're people too. I just love this concept !!

I was so, so scared the first time I sent you a message here to ask the permission to post the translation. I think I read my message like 10 times to make sure that there wasn't any mistakes... And then, you helped me tons of time with words, sentences, and parts I didn't get. And you let me have so much liberty with the adaptation of the story in my language, it was really, really great from you, thank you !!

We started talking a lot at some point even with jet lag, and it was really great even tho we had multiple conversation at the same time lol

You made me discover a lot of things outside of DLTD with your blog too, and I'm thankfull for that too.

I just can't thank you enough, and I think everyone else who has read and loved DLTD can say the same. Thank you again, Hate (especially if you read all that) !!!

I'm going to keep on posting the last chapters, and then post drawings here and there I guess, now. Until then, farewell duckies !!

#dltd #devils like to dance #thank you again #and thanks to everyone who read my yapping

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grippingbeskar · 2 years ago

Text

salt, ice and fire | frank castle

chapter twenty six - you bring me home

frank castle x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ content minors dni! (car sex lmaooo, mxf nothing you haven’t seen before, its pretty sweet <3) swearing, canon typical violence, mention of scars, injuries, blood, literally packed everything into this chapter its a big one

a/n: wow. this was so rough oh my god. the entire first draft deleted itself and i had to re write the whole thing from memory, so i lost my planned chapter. i really hope i got everything in here, and im sorry for the wait AND how long it is lmao but i just. can’t believe i really finished it. ill rant at the end, but if you only read this part, i love you. thank you for letting me share the absolute vomit that is my brain. you are the best.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“How was the drive?” Franks voice sends a shiver down your spine, even hundreds of miles away through a crappy phone line.

“Boring.” You sigh, pacing around the tiny motel room.

“You were meant to call an hour ago. Got me waitin’ up for you.” He sounds tired, and it makes your heart skip a beat. It’s stupid, but the image makes you a little giddy. Waiting up for you.

“There was… traffic.”

“You get lost?”

“Fuck you.” You bite automatically and he groans.

“So yeah?”

“Yes, Frank. I got lost.” He laughs, the sound managing to take your mind off the dark room you’d managed to secure for the night, the bedside light doing nothing to brighten the small space.

“I gave you a map. It’s a straight shot from where you started.” Rolling your eyes, you look at the map you’d now bundled into a ball and thrown into the trash.

“Who uses a printed map? Seriously, how fucking old are you?” It’s playful and familiar, and all the frustration of driving for 10 hours melts into the bed.

Being a key witness in a now ongoing case apparently didn’t come with any frequent flyer miles, because both Matt and Frank had said you couldn’t risk going through airport security and being flagged in a system, so it meant you had to drive nearly 18 hours to Florida. You thought you didn’t mind road trips, but after today you think it’s only road trips with Frank you don’t mind.

“Maps don’t change, baby. Besides, you’d drive yourself into a god damn tree the second that voice in the car told you you’d missed a turn.” You hate that he’s right— even the thought of that monotone voice droning in your ear for ten hours makes you cringe.

“Whatever. Tell me about something. You said you were going to speak to Madani today?” He’s the one sighing now, and clearly the talk was about as fun as your drive.

“She’s all over the place. Some mishandled evidence fucked their entire case, and Bobby’s lawyers were too well paid to let it go. Murdock said they’ll be able to find more— the appeal’s already been approved cause of how high profile it is, but he’s got no new evidence. He said he doesn’t know if they can get him.”

“That’s… what I expected, I guess.” Frank agrees, and your sudden silence only serves to bring the real issue to hand. “You know where he is?”

“Yeah. I got it covered.” The line goes quiet, and you don’t really know what to say.

On one hand, you want Bobby dead. You know can’t do it- it wasn’t smart, and the last thing you were going to do is drag everything Matt and Madani had worked for through the mud for someone like him, let alone put Sam in danger. Some fucked up part of you is a little mad that it won’t be you, but Frank has every reason to hate him as much as you. You know Frank wants this, and that telling him to stop is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Your hesitation would only spur him to do it faster, be more impulsive. You don’t want to say anything to put him off.

On the other, you just want him with you. You worry like some love sick child, scared he’s walked out the door and isn’t coming back. You worry he’ll get caught, and end up in the exact spot he was trying to get you out of. You’re scared he’ll get hurt, or worse. Every time you close your eyes you can see him bleeding out, dark red staining your hands until you can scream yourself awake. There’s so many things that could go wrong, and ten hours staring over the hood of your car gives you way too much time to think about hypotheticals.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Frank says softly, and you flop yourself back on the single bed.

“Are you?” He huffs like the question is irrelevant.

“Madani asked about your dad today.” He ignores the question, and you’re too interested to poke him on it.

“Oh?”

“Asked what he knew about your time there. If he ever worked with the Gnucci’s.” A lump forms in your throat.

“You think she knows about the weird... blood stuff?”

“Don’t see why she would. Either way, it’s not gonna matter once he’s dead.” The bluntness of it almost makes you laugh. “He’ll be gone, and no one will come for it. Or you.”

“You don’t have to do this for me, Frank.”

“I’m not.” He pauses, and then sighs. “Alright, I am, but not just that. The shit he said to me in there— the things he said about you. The way he looked at you in there… I watched that shit, and there’s no way in hell that asshole does what he did and lives.”

“What if he was found guilty? Would you of left it alone?” Maybe if you’d been more helpful to Matt and Madani, it would of gone better, and Frank would be here.

“You want me to answer that?” A part of you knew he wasn’t going to let it go. That wasn’t who he was. It shouldn’t make you feel the way it does to know that Frank would kill for you— just to make you safe. It does anyway, and heat flushes over your face.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” He agrees, a low sound rumbling from his end of the phone. “I spent most of the day wishing you were with me, you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Turns out I fucking hate driving.” He laughs again, and if you could listen to the sound all night you think you’d sleep peacefully.

“You remember how mad you were that first time I didn’t let you drive?” Shaking your head, you flick off the lights slide under the covers.

“I was mad because you had a concussion and tried to fucking kill us.”

“Least I was gonna go the right way.”

“You tried switching drivers on the freeway, Castle.”

“Alright, I was a a bit out of it.” He says plainly and you smile so wide it hurts your cheeks. “Wished you were here, too.”

“I bet you did.” He groans, and you hear him shift on the bed. Your bed.

“Too much space in here. Didn’t even know we had this much blanket.” He makes a real noisy show of it, tossing around the blankets you usually roll yourself up in. It’s meant to be a light hearted thing, but for some reason the idea of Frank spread out on your shared bed, one that you’ve both used extensively— it makes your heart race.

“Dickhead.” He groans again, shuffling around some more. “This one’s too small. Probably have to sleep on top of each other if you were here.”

“M’alright with that.”

“Not a lot of room to move, though.” You look around at the room, hardly enough space to stand in the corner.

“We’d figure something out.” You let your eyes flutter closed, humming high pitched at the idea. “What are you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?”

“You.” You admit, and he seems to like it.

“Me too. Haven’t gone a night in this apartment without fuckin’ you in this bed. Drivin’ me crazy.” You hum again, pressing your thighs together to try and dissipate the heat that’s suddenly overtaken your whole body. “You thinkin’ about it now too, aren’t you baby?”

“Yeah, Frank.”

“Don’t say my name like that.” He growls, and you bite your lip to hide your laugh.

“Why not, Frank?” You practically purr the word, drawing it out and saying it all breathy like you do when he’s teasing you.

“Cause you’re gonna make me drive ten hours just to fuck you in whatever dirty motel you pulled off into.” You’re still smiling, but you think if you keep messing with him, he’d do it. He’d drive ten hours, a hundred of them if it meant teaching you a lesson. Or just being with you. “I’ll see you soon. Real soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You breathe out, knowing if you keep talking to him your entire plan will crumble in front of you, because you’re half considering driving home just to sleep next to him. “Soon. Be safe, okay?”

The words tumble out, and you try to hide the guilt you feel when you say them. He was only not safe because of you— because you couldn’t finish the job yourself. You’re glad he can’t see your face, because you hear him mumble on the other end and your eyes close listening to him.

“Always. Tell the kid I said hi.” With that, Frank hangs up the phone, and you slide it onto the table right next to the pistol you keep loaded and ready to fire.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Frank pulls the saturated beanie over his head, and it’s probably doing more harm than good at this point, but he doesn’t have a second to really give a shit. His eye-line is perfect— directed straight into the penthouse apartment Bobby Gnucci was driven to three hours ago. He’s been tucked away in the corner of the rooftop for just as long, watching the man pace and yell on the phone.

It had taken him a few goes to get the right frequency to listen in on the calls he was making, but once he had he took as much information done as he could. He’d had enough of watching, and now he was satisfied with the phones calls he’d listened to that the man was alone for the night; not counting his extensive security team layered through the apartment block. Frank felt the familiar hum in his veins, shoving his loaded pistol in his jeans and swinging the strap of a rifle over his shoulder, he headed down the stairs, across the street and slipped into the back of the building.

There’d be witnesses if he didn’t take the right route, and to make this work he needed every chance at an alibi he could get. He was so used to not caring— every time he’d gone into something like this, he didn’t have something to get back to. He had no preservation, no concern for what came after. Hell, if he was honest, he didn’t care if he went out doing something like this. He would of preferred it, maybe even hoped he’d die somewhere in the cross fire.

Even just talking to you on the phone had him itching to get back to you now. He wanted to be careful— something he never really thought of before. A heavy ache in his stomach that twisted something violent when he thought about not getting home, not making good on his promise from a few hours ago, it made him sick. He planned as much as he could, as much as he was capable of, and hoped to God it was enough.

Frank hid his body behind the corner of the wall. He hid his face, too, even though he’d already had Micro’s help shutting out the cameras. He knew it would set off alarms for the security team, but he planned for that. They’d spread out, follow orders that he’d listened to over the radio, three men on all the entries and exits, and then ten through the penthouse. If he timed it right, he could clear the first few levels before the guards arrived.

He didn’t care about making noise now— slamming his way up the fire access while Gnucci’s men no doubt got into position. He’d just past a number 6, and Bobby was on the top floor. 23. He kept going, not hearing any doors open. When he passed 9, the door on the level below him cracked open and he jammed through the next exit he reached, getting into position.

He could hear voices coming from his right, and steadied himself as he turned the safety off his gun. He had a small army of men to get through, but he knew if he could make it, landing the hit on Bobby would be easy.

He wasn’t nervous. Pure adrenaline flooded him, like it always did, and he didn’t think twice before standing out of cover and pulling the trigger.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“How have you grown so much?!” You nearly shout, hugging Sam tighter as he all but latches onto your leg. “God, you’re gonna be my height soon.”

“I missed you!” He says, words muffled in your jacket. You don’t even have to bend really, he’s that tall. It is even possible for him to grow that much in just a month? “Come! I want to show you my stuff. Me and Niko share a room, and it’s the coolest thing…”

You let him drag you around the house, showing you the bunk beds that are set up for him and Nikolai. He shows you books he’s brought home from school, and it makes you smile how chaotic his room is. There’s piles of books and papers everywhere, stuffed under the bed and nearly toppling on the tables. It looks like it’s lived in… like a home, and your heart warms and breaks all at once.

When he finally finishes his impromptu tour, he pulls you outside where the rest of the family has set themselves up, and runs out into the giant back yard to chase after Nikolai. You hardly had a chance to say hello to them, but if you were honest you hadn’t thought of anything but Sam since you saw him.

“Did he show you the bunk beds?” The doctor— Zaed, you remind yourself, comes up behind you on the deck. “He hasn’t stopped talking about showing you.”

“I thought he was gonna explode.” Zaed laughs, and you turn to look at him. He’s still sporting a scar across his forehead, and it somehow makes his older features look slightly hardened. His face was still soft, something about him gesturing kindness, an observation you never made in the months you were locked away. “He told me you made them.”

“It took me weeks. I am not very… handy.” Smiling, you turn back to watch Sam and Nikolai screaming and laughing as they chase each other with Nerf guns. “I am sorry for what happened with the case.”

“So am I. If he’d gone away, you wouldn’t have to stay in Witness Protection.” He nods, turning away for a second only to return and offer you a can of something. “What is it?”

“It’s Russian. You’ll like it— it’s strong.” You crack it open and take a long drink, hoping to drown the rising anxiety that kneads the back of your mind at the thought of what Frank was doing right now. “We don’t mind it so much here.”

“Florida?” He nods.

“We want to stay. Corinne thinks the children— with what they’ve been through, shouldn’t move too much. They seem happy here.” You hum in agreement, listening to the light squeals of the youngest girl, who’s name you haven’t learnt yet, who’s got the biggest Nerf gun of all and is shooting the shit out of both boys. “It was my idea. To offer to take him in. If you are upset, please lay the blame with me—“

“Upset? God, why would I ever be upset?” He blinks in surprise, looking to you.

“You are here with him, and yet you still seem far away. I figured the suggestion was weighing on you. We only offer because… well, we have all grown quite fond of him, and for you— to you we owe our lives. I thought if we could make any of this easier…” You shake your head, finishing the bitter liquid in the can.

“You looking after Sam is about one of two good things I have going right now.” Zaed seems to relax, leaning forward onto the railing as you both stare out to watch the kids. “I think he’s happy here.”

“He is. He misses you, but he is happy.”

“And safe.”

“Of course. I pity anyone who would try to get past Corinne now.” You laugh at the tinge of genuine anxiety in his voice, as if he imagines it, but his eyes are full of admiration.

“I want to talk to him about it… make sure he’s okay, but if he wants to, I think him staying here would be the best thing for him.” Zaed doesn’t answer right away, just lets the echoed laughter of the kids fill both of your ears before he nods simply.

“He will be safe. And I am sure you will learn to love Florida, too, with how much you will visit?”

“What?” Again, a look of surprise crosses his face.

“Sam did not show you the spare room? We have cleared a space for you— whenever you need it. You… it is the least I could do. You saved my life—“

“Hardly.”

“I owe you it. My families life. My own. Whatever you should need here, the door would be open to you.” You have to look away, because it’s too much, and you don’t know when you became so soft that shit like this made you tear up.

“You don’t owe me anything. You keeping Sam safe is everything I ever wanted. I think we’re even now.” You laugh, your throat suddenly feeling a little tight.

“I couldn’t help but notice you arrived alone.” He questions, and you hide your face, unsure if the way you chew on your bottom lip gives too much away.

“Yeah.” No amount of alcohol could drown out the thought of Frank. You hadn’t heard from him in a day. Zaed looks at you, his eyes crinkling as he assess you.

“I thought he was going to drown with you that night. When he saw you go into the water… I recognise that look in a man’s eyes.” It seems so long ago now, and your hand instinctively goes to your stomach, where Frank sewed you up the first time. “He is coming soon, I assume? I doubt he would let you get too far from him right now.”

“Yeah, he’s…” You trust Zaed— but there’s only one person who takes precedent over the people taking care of your brother. “He’s just finishing up some stuff with the case in New York. He should be on his way now.”

“Ah.” He says, his eyes lingering on you in question. You say nothing, just sink a little more of the can. “Well, when he kills the ублюдок, I hope he makes it last.”

Before you can recover and wipe the shock off your face long enough to ask him how the hell he guessed what Frank is doing, Sam and Nikolai are in front of you, and Zaed disappears back into the house.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Frank grunts, a loud nearly animalistic sound vibrating off the walls as he clears the 23rd floor. Every time he breathes out, blood sprays out of his mouth. He can’t tell if it’s his own or he’s just covered in so much that it’s dripping off him. Either way he can’t help it, chest burning for oxygen after he laid the lower floors to absolute waste.

He’d ditched the assault rifle somewhere between the 18th and 19th floors, not even bothering to pull out his pistol. No— he’d fought every single one of them with his bare hands, and anything he could find scattered between dead bodies.

His right hand was fucked, and he’s pretty sure he got shot. Somewhere on the right side of his body, there’s a shooting pain between his thigh and his ribs, but it’s not enough to slow him down. He shoves his body weight into the penthouse door, throwing himself into guards he knows are ready and waiting for him. He reaches for his pistol, shooting three guys in the head before his eyes adjust to the dimmer lights in the room.

He hears them shouting orders, and he kills three more as he crosses the living room. One of them he puts through the TV screen, glass shattering under his hand as he crushes the man’s skull between the hard surface. The other two he shoots, and then moves towards the last four. All of them shield the door to the bedroom— putting their lives on the line for a man who doesn’t deserve the air he’s wasting.

Frank doesn’t have a moral compass when it comes to revenge. Not when it has to do with the people he loves. It’s why he clears the round of bullets in his gun on all four of them in less than thirty seconds, watching the lifeless bodies pile up in the doorway, there isn’t a single moment that he hesitates.

“Bobby!” Frank shouts, his voice horse and so loud he’s got no doubt the dead hear it.

He hears shuffling, and drops the pistol before stomping his way through into the bedroom. He sees Bobby, crawling across the floor in an attempt to reach for a gun dropped by one of the guards, but just as he goes to reach for it, Frank slams a bloody boot down on top of his hand, feeling the crush of bone under his weight.

“Fuck!” He shouts, and Frank smiles sickly, blood dripping from his teeth. “Get the fuck off me, you animal!”

Frank kicks him in the face, two of his teeth flying out and scattering across the carpet. As he rolls over, Frank grabs him by the collar and sits him up, watching his head lull to the side.

“Wake up.” Frank slams his fist into his skull. There was no way he was passing out this fast. Not after what he’s done. “Wake the fuck up.”

His hands shake with how hard he’s holding Bobby upright. So hard he feels the bone of his collar begin to give, and Frank chases the idea. Bobby thrashes, screaming as his eyes shoot open, the sound kicking Frank back into gear. He lets go of his shoulder long enough to pull back, only to drive his fist and crack the rest of his shoulder.

“Help m—“ Bobby tries to shout, but Frank shuts him off with another well placed shove of his weight into Bobby’s stomach, winding him. He wheezes, the pathetic sound something like music to Franks ears.

He punches him again— over and over. Not enough to kill him, though. No, Frank wasn’t done, he was just feeding the thrill. He’d been waiting too fucking long for this, and there was something satisfying about seeing this man— this weak excuse for a man being blinded by his own blood as he cries for someone to help him.

“Ain’t no one comin’ for you.” He growls, and grabs Bobby’s face so it hangs straight. His jaw is slack, but his eyes go wide when he feels the blade at his ribs. “You know that? That there ain’t a single person out there comin’ for you. No one gives a shit about you. You’re alone in here— your life in my hands.”

“Haaa—“ Bobby tries but whatever it is fades out into a scream when Frank slides the blade between his third and fourth rib. Slowly— real fucking slow. “They… they’ll come. Th-They’ll come f-for me.”

“No one’s comin’. Dead. All of ‘em. You’re alone.” He slides it a little deeper, watching the realisation wash over his face.

In truth, Frank wasn’t doing this for him. Sure, it felt fucking good, and Frank was enjoying the sight of the life draining out of his eyes, but he wants him to know why. Why he’s here, why he took out every last man in this building so he knew there was no hope. No one for him to go to.

He knew that’s what it was like for you. Frank couldn’t give you back those years, and he couldn’t take that much time with this— he’d thought about it, but he wanted this to end here and now. He could do this here, for you. Could make him know just how it feels to have all that power beat out of you, and know that there’s no one out there coming to save you.

“Stop…stop!” He wails, and Frank hits him harder. Every crack of his fist sends Bobby further into unconsciousness, and when he manages to stop himself, he shakes him awake again.

He gurgles on his own blood, dark red pools choking out of his mouth. His face is unrecognisable, already starting to blow up as he strangles in a few short breaths.

“I can… I have money. I can p—“ The effort of the words sprays another load of blood out of his mouth, and even though he’s exhausted, Frank laughs.

“You think I want money?” He leans down, yanking the knife out of his ribs and shoving it in again.

“Fuck! What do you—what do you want?!” Bobby wails again. Frank smiles.

“I want you to know that she’s the reason you’re dead. The last thing you’ll know is me— my face, and you’ll know it’s because you ended up just like you made her. Except she got out, and you never will.” Frank loses sense of time, his injuries starting to catch up with him as he yanks the knife out one more time, before slamming it home into Bobby’s skull.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I’m watching!” You shout as Sam lines up again, taking a few steps back before rushing forward and kicking the ball towards their make shift goal in the yard. You have to admit, for only been playing a few weeks, he’s got a hell of a kick on him.

“See! I’m getting better— my coach says next year I can try out for the first grade team if I keep training!” He’s smiling so big, and then he’s gone again, picking up the ball to take another shot at Nikolai who’s got goalkeeper gloves on, ready to catch it.

You’d be happy to watch this all day, but then Corinne calls out to you, telling you your phone is ringing, and you all but leap over the railing of the deck. When you race inside, you expect to see Franks name, and your heart sinks when you don’t. You knew he wouldn’t be able to call until it was over, but it’s been nearly two days since you’d heard anything. Then, you see it’s an unknown number calling, and your hands are shaking when you disappear into what is meant to be ‘your’ room to answer.

“Hello?” You recognise the voice instantly when she says your name. “Fucking hell, Karen. You scared me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but are you?!” She nearly shouts, and you are still coming back to your mind with relief it wasn’t someone telling you Frank was dead. “I don’t even know how you did it, but I don’t want to. The way they found him… Jesus.”

“Wait. What? Karen, I’m in Florida.”

“What?”

“I’m with my brother in Florida. I came up here two days ago after the trial.” She goes quiet, and you can hear the commotion in the background. Remembering it’s a Tuesday, and that she must be at work, it only furthers your suspicions. “Who’s dead?”

“Bobby is. They found him. They found his body— but…”

“Karen, tell me.” All you need to hear is Frank wasn’t found. That he got out of there before anyone saw him. It would be your fault— all of it would be your fault if he was found. You needed to get back, you needed—

“Sorry. Sorry, I just thought… with everything that happened before, I thought it might of been you. Bobby’s dead, but… there’s nearly 50 men in the building with him. They’re all dead. And Bobby; he was hardly recognisable. It took them nearly 24 hours to identify him.”

“24 hours?” Frank needed to get out of New York as soon as he killed Bobby. If the police had been crawling around there for nearly a day… “Karen, I gotta go. Thank you for calling.”

You cut it off before she responds, and call the only number saved in your phone. It only rings twice before he answers, and you could nearly cry when you hear his voice.

“Stop fuckin’ ringin’ me, Murdock. I don’t know shit and I’m busy.” He grumbles through the phone, and you choke out something between a laugh and a sob. “Oh, fuck. Sorry— hey, sweetheart. Was just about to call you.”

“It’s… did the— job go okay?” You try to calm your voice as best you can, knowing that if anyone traces the call he’s done for.

“It took me longer than I thought. Had to get stitched up, then Curtis drove me halfway— passed out for most of it.” Before you can ask, he answers. “I’m fine, don’t do that.”

“You’re okay?” Relief floods your body, phone nearly slipping out of your hand with how hard you were gripping it. “Everything’s… everything’s okay?”

“Come see for yourself. I’m pulling up.” Like a kid on Christmas, you toss the phone and basically sprint to the front door, hearing an unfamiliar truck rumble down the isolated street.

He’s driving, clearly having ditched Curtis, but when he gets out he’s got a limp, and his hand is bandaged. You don’t run, instead you stand in the driveway and soak up the image— Frank; leaning against the door of the truck, sunglasses covering up what you have no doubt are black eyes. Alive. Favouring his left side and still with dried blood on his head, but fucking here.

“You’re hurt.” You say it when you finally reach him, but it sounds pathetic, closer to the tone you’d whimper his name in.

“Don’t worry about it.” He says huskily and reaches out, yanking you forward and slamming his mouth to yours.

The soft touch of his bandaged hand is opposite to the greedy grasp of his free one, the one wrapping around your back and fisting the material of your shirt, pressing so you were flush against him. Both of your hands cup his face, feeling the rough surface of his skin. You lose yourself in the taste of him as your fingers trace the patterns of scars peppering around his head— a constellation you’ve memorised a million times over, and yet it still feels as illuminating as the first.

He groans your name, sliding his hand up to grip your jaw, thumb tugging on your bottom lip. You lean back slightly, staying at close to him as possible. His eyes look you up and down, and there’s a glint in his eye; a hunger that never seems to be satiated when he looks at you. He’s still feverish for it, and it makes your toes curl in your shoes.

“Fuckin’ missed you.” He mumbles against your lips, and it makes you smile against his.

“I can tell.” His other hand forgets it’s injury as he searches your body, gripping your hips and pressing you closer.

“Get Sam. Let’s go home.” He tucks his head lower, mouth kissing under your jaw, and as much as you do want to get the fuck out of here with him, you pull away.

“He’s… he’s staying here.” Frank pushes the sunglasses off his face, looking at you through what is actually only one bruised eye.

“Staying?” You nod. “You sure?”

“I talked to him about it. He fucking loves it here, Frank. He didn’t want me to go again, but you should of seen him with them. They treat him like their own, and he adores them. It’s so much better than anything I could of thought.” Frank wraps his arms around your back and hugs you right, and your eyes flutter closed. “And you can’t just leave. They’re expecting you to come in and say hi.”

“Why?” The way he says it makes you laugh, as if you’d just asked him to drink gasoline.

“Come on.” You tug him by the wrists, and even though he groans and leans on you up the driveway, you both stagger inside and follow the sounds of Sam’s laughter, leaving everything else behind.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“They were being nice.” You haven’t wiped the smile off your face since you slid into the passenger seat this morning. “Well, I slept great. I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

“Mhmm.” Frank grumbles, clearing having a much worse sleep than you did.

It was sweet, and truely, you wanted to take them up on it. When Frank dragged himself through the front door of where Sam had been staying, everyone had nearly jumped on him. Sam couldn’t contain himself, clearly trying to play it cool but simultaneously thinking Frank was the coolest person he’d ever met. It was sweet, the way Frank was with the kids, the sight making you both smile and want to cry.

Either way, when Corinne and Zaed had offered for you both to stay the night, Frank agreed and all but dragged you down the hallway after dinner. The spare room was nice— set up clearly for two people, and you were only human.

It would have been perfect— had the room not been sharing a wall with your brother and his new best friend. A very fucking thin wall. One that was nearly vibrating with how loud they screamed every five minutes playing some game on the TV. The louder they were, the more it became apparent that neither of you would be getting a lot of sleep, and not in the good way.

Having Frank that close all night but not being able to do anything about it reminded you of the start of this whole thing. How you shared a bed with him but had to force yourself to keep your hands to yourself. It was borderline painful, but eventually you managed to drift off to sleep, not missing how hard Franks hands were gripping your hips like he had to physically cement himself to stop from fucking you through the bed.

When you woke up, Frank had all your shit shoved in the car, and was outside cooking pancakes with Sam. You took your time saying goodbye— making sure to thank both Corinne and Zaed properly, and then promising you’ll be back. Soon. ‘So soon you won’t even have time to miss me’ you’d promised Sam, and he grinned and hugged you before disappearing to get ready for school.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Frank looked to you before shifting in his seat, one of his hands resting on your thigh and squeezing.

“Got a stop to make before getting back to New York.” You’d been driving for a while now— about half way between New York and where you’d left Sam. You turned in your seat, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Don’t be cryptic.” You try to sound assertive, but you can’t seem to hold any resentment when you could feel the warmth of him palm on your thigh.

“It’s close, alright? Promise.” The words eased something in your chest, the same way his smile did when he looked at you.

A small silence drifted between you as a Billy Joel song hummed softly on the radio, and your head dropped, eyes tracing over the bruises left on his knuckles. Your fingers dance around them, careful to keep your touches light. You follow the lines of black and blue up over his wrist, watching them disappear under the arm of his jumper. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and when you push up the sleeve just slightly, you swear loudly.

“Fucking hell! Is this broken?” You pull the sleeve up higher, and you tighten your grip on his wrist when he goes to pull away. If you hadn’t watched him so closely, you would of missed the way he winced, and you let go immediately. “Sorry. Sorry— fuck, Frank. Is this all from—“

“I’m fine. Just a couple scratches.” He says, keeping his blackened eyes trained on the road. It would of been easy to miss— not seeing him without clothes since he’d come back. Bile rises in your throat at the thought he was hurt because of you— because he was doing this for you. Suffering for you. Like he has the entire time.

“Are you lying?” He shakes his head, and you lightly poke him in the side. He hissed loudly, flinching away from you and swerving the car. “Pull over.”

“I’m not pulling over.” Frank groans.

“You’ve been driving for hours, just—“

“It’s fine. We only got a few more miles till—“

“Please.” There must have been something in your voice, some kind of soft vulnerability that even he isn’t used to hearing, and then the car is pulling off the side of an empty highway, dusk rolling over the hood of the truck.

You reach out, pulling the sunglasses off his face to reveal him slowly. This part you’ve seen, but it still knocks the wind out of you. The cut along his cheekbone, not deep enough to need stitches but you know it will scar over. His right eye is a deep purple, the left nearly green. You go to draw your fingers over his face, but hesitate, worried you’ll hurt him. He sees you pulling back and catches your wrist, placing your palm between his cheek and his own hand.

“Don’t do that.” You choke out a laugh, smoothing your hand over and back into his slightly longer hair, pulling him closer over the console of the car.

“I’m not doing anything.” You say softly, something guilty in your voice. When he hears it, he shakes his head at you.

“Can read you like a book. You got nothin’ to do with this, alright?”

“I have nothing to do with it?” You want to laugh. “I’m the reason you were there. The reason all this happened.”

“I would of been in the same place with or without you. This part?” He gestures to himself, his torso that you know all too well is littered with scars. “This isn’t a part you blame yourself for.”

“But it is. My fault.” He opens his mouth but you talk first. “All of this… watching those kids today, watching Sam— all I ever did was put him in danger. And you. It’s better for him to be there, away from all this. Away from me. Maybe now all this is over, it would be better…safer, if you—“

“Stop. I don’t wanna hear that shit. You know how selfish you sound?” You blink a few times, eyes meeting his. At some point he’s leaned even closer, and you can feel the heat of his body thawing you out. “You’re right— I wouldn’t of gone back to New York the past two days if it wasn’t for you. You know why?”

“Listen—“

“No. I wouldn’t of gone back because I would of killed that asshole six months ago and been home in time for dinner. I’ve been doin’ this a long time, and there’s nothin’ you could of done that would of changed how this ended.” He holds your face up to his, rough hands holding you as gently as they could, and his thumb traces the scar just above your eyebrow. “Sam is safe with them, but don’t think for one fuckin’ second he’s better off without you. God knows I’m not. You’ve done nothin’ but good for that kid, and I’d… fucking hell. I’d be dead without you, you know that?”

“No you wouldn’t.” Your voice was so soft it hardly broke the silence, but he leaned in, his forehead pressing to yours. “You could probably jump out of a building and walk it off.”

“Maybe. But now I gotta be careful nd’ come home to you, don’t I?” He smiles, and then kisses you and you forget where you are. Words die on your tongue and are replaced by the taste of him, mind freezing over when he touches you. He does it every time. Every time he manages to take your breath away with one whisper of your name, one swipe of his thumb over your mouth. It’s intoxicating and dependant, something you never thought you’d want, but it feels so good with him. His hands drop to your waist, their pull demanding and needy as he yanks you up and over the centre console and onto his lap.

“I’d do it again. All of it. Kill every single—“ You kiss him again, squeezing your eyes shut, and he groans as you shift on his lap. “Fuck, baby we should wait till…”

“Till when?” You say breathlessly, and despite his words his hands are already sneaking underneath your shirt, his cool hands meeting your feverish skin. You can hardly keep your eyes open, and your hips roll forward again, seeking him out. “I want you now, Frank.”

“Fuck it. Doesn’t matter.” He says and then crashes into you, your back nearly pressing against the dash with how quick he moves. Your gasp of surprise is lost in his mouth, and you can feel the sparks he makes in your chest crackling their way through you, toes curling in your shoes.

Your half bent backwards, legs in either side of his as he keeps your chest pressed to him, both arms wrapping around you to hold you steady. You tug at his shirt helplessly, getting it stuck around his arm and he smiles against your mouth, leaning back to look at you before whipping it over his head.

In the dark of the room last night you wouldn’t of seen it, but now the lights streaming in from the car window, and Franks torso is nearly a rainbow in it— blue, purple and green bruises all up his side, with a short but deep cut on the low right side of his abdomen. He’s taken the bandage off it too early, the stitches still healing, but you can tell it’s expert work. Much better than the botched job you did a month or so back, something he still bares the reminders for.

“Just… just a couple scratches, huh?” He grunts something illegible and hauls you back to him.

“Shut up.” He keeps you pressed close, not giving you a chance to say something back, but then his hands dip lower and you’re a goner.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Yeah. Fuck waiting.

He’s got you here— now, on top of him, and he can’t even fucking think of anything else. Your hands are being so gentle and cautious when he really couldn’t care less about the pain, but you do. You always do.

He wasn’t gonna waste another second, and seeing your eyes close the second he got your pants off and dipped his hands between your legs… it’s pretty much as close to heaven as he was going to get.

You fall forward, Frank catching you with one arm and pulling you close while the other continues slow, teasing circles just how he knows gets you all worked up. Your head tucks away into his neck, and he lets you hide for now, but when he’s got you home— real home, then he’ll be able to look at you as much as he god damn wants.

Your hips move against him, chasing his slow rhythm, and he feels your teeth scrape agains this neck, wordlessly rushing him along.

“You need me that bad?” He says lowly, and watches in awe the way his words wash over you and yank you closer to the edge. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Shouldn’t of left you so needy—“

“Fuckkk… right there—please.” Your voice was so high it cracks a little, and it fucking sets him on fire.

“Get my belt for me, baby.” He whispers, feigning a bit of self control as he watches you quickly fumble with the buckle. The slight brush of your hands could finish him then and there, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to try and remember why he wanted to wait. He had just one more card to play— one that you’d seen him play a few times before, but he doesn’t think you expect it this time, and he needed some semblance of composure to remember it.

A real house, white picket fence and all, smack bang on halfway between New York and Florida. He couldn’t leave New York, not ever, but he had a new anchor now, one that deserved to have it all.

Frank planned to take you straight home. Make a ten hour drive and keep his hands to himself, but how the fuck could he when you were like this? Looking like you do, touching him so fucking sweet and soft and saying how much you missed every part of him— it was a dream come to life, and one of the few moments he’d let himself go in.

You shuffle as close as the seat allows, your now naked chest pressing against his. He dips his head, kissing your jaw, and he’s suddenly surrounded by you. Arms around his neck, warm and soft as your fingers thread in his hair, both of you moan at the feeling of him sliding into you. It’s white hot and nearly painful, how even with the way you’re dripping down your thighs, it still takes you a second to take him all the way. You wriggle your hips, trying to settle yourself and Frank nips at your neck, slowing your pace just slightly. He can hear you sigh, but you listen. You always fucking do.

“Shit— so fucking good. You can take it.” He hums and runs his hands over your skin. You lean into the touch, and when you sigh again he sinks your hips lower, a short punch of your name bursting from his chest when you slam yourself down. “Fuck. There you go.”

He’s a wreck underneath you, and your hands slither away from his hair to his face when you pull him up to kiss you. As much as he loves the feeling of your hips grinding down ever so slightly right now, it’s this part he loves the most. The slow intimacy of it— how he knows he can stay right here for the rest of the day and nothing will change. He can feel how much you love it, how much care you handle him with, and it cracks something old and hard in his gut.

You shudder as he lifts his hips, keeping your mouths together and kissing hungrily. He’d think you’d both been starved for a year the way you two act, but he’d admit it to anyone that asked that he was gone for you. He knows it well and true, in his chest and in the way you bounce in his lap, moaning into his mouth like he’s breathing air into your burning lungs.

“Fuck— fuck, I love you. I fucking… Jesus Christ, you’re so good. I love you.” He can’t shut himself up, and your breath gets faster. He knows you love it when he talks. “C’mon, baby. Let me see you— wanna feel you. I know you want to.”

“Slow… Frank, you’re gonna hurt yourself—“ You suck in a breath and squeeze your eyes shut. His hands stay tight on your hips, and he feels the pleasure buzz under his palms, your skin nearly alight with it on top of him. “Oh my god, don’t stop.”

He wraps his forearm around you and fucks you harder, any pain and injury burnt out by how tight you are around him, and how perfect you fit him. He’s close, so close that he’s hardly able to kiss you now. You both collide in a mess of tongues and sighs, and when he hears you croak out his name into his mouth, he knows you’re cumming for him.

He can’t hold himself back, chasing you into that high with blinding abandon. It hits him like a freight train, bowing him over you like he’s taken a hit, but it feels so good he can’t register that he isn’t breathing like this. He keeps kissing you until he’s sure he’s going to pass out, and only stops when you pull away, eyes darting to the highway where headlights slowly flicker on the horizon.

“Shit.” You say breathless, and you laugh. He can feel it, the sound shuddering through him from where he was still deep inside you, and your giggles soon turned to something less innocent when you heard Frank groan into your chest. “C’mon. Someone’ll see us.”

“Don’t move yet.” He puts his hands on your waist, fanning them out to reach as much of you as possible.

“Mhmm.” It’s like your body gives out at his request, slumping forward and moulding into him like you were made to fit this way. This was what he was talking about. The way you fit together— something that should be out of the question for him fits so right. “I love you, too.”

“Mhmm.” He copies and feels you smile against his skin. His hands trail up your spine, tracing the line of bones lightly to leave goosebumps in his wake. “What time is it?”

“Who gives a fuck?” You mumble, the words half muffled into his neck.

“I want you to see the house in the light, but you wanna go at it blind, be my guest.” It takes you a second, a scoff coming out of you before you sit up abruptly, making him groan again.

“House? What house? Another safe house.” Frank couldn’t keep a secret to save his life when it came to you.

“It’s a house. Twenty minute drive from here.”

“But New Yorks not—“

“I know. Good thing we got cars, yeah?” Your eyebrows are crossed together, and Franks thumb slips over the small scar he left on your face. The movement shifts your gaze to something softer, and he feels the brush of your eyelashes on his finger as you blink up at him.

“You did it on purpose. It’s right in the middle.” You say softly. “Jesus, Frank. You didn’t have to… I mean you—“

“Take a breath. I didn’t buy it. Was a gift from the US Goverment. One thing those guys are good for is their money. I just picked the spot.” He could nearly hear the rave of your heart, and you crushed yourself into him, words hushed and mumbled into his ear, but they melt him to the core all the same.

He’ll never get over hearing you say things like this to him. That you’re grateful for him, that he’s doing a good thing. It’s like nothing he did before you was ever good enough. There was always the next job, always the next group to track, but nothing would be enough. There wasn’t a light at the end of the tunnel for him. But here you were, telling him that he was the reason you were gonna be alright, and if he squints he can see it. The flicker of something hopeful, and if he holds onto you as tight as he can, he might just live to see it light him on fire.

“Did you say… you said twenty minutes from here. Why didn’t we just wait until—“

“Would’ve ruined the surprise.” You laugh again, and the feeling has him gripping you tighter. He leans closer to whisper in your ear, his voice low. “And I wanted to fuck you here and now. Don’t want there to be a single fuckin’ surface where I ain’t had you.”

“Better get driving then, Castle. Sounds like you got a job to do.” The glint in your eye nearly makes him drag you outside and bend you over the hood, but the kiss you give him after is sickeningly sweet, so much so that he lets you slide off him and back into the passenger seat without so much as a nip of his teeth. “Tha–”

“Wait. Wait til you see it.” Frank said, and something about the way he looked at you had you nodding simply, and watching the trees race by as he sped you home.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were asleep on the balcony again, and Frank moved as slow as he could to let you stay that way.

In the two weeks you’d been here, he could count on one hand how many times you’d actually slept in the bed. There were no neighbours for miles, nothing interrupting the stretch of sky all the way to the hills. Even Frank had to admit it was a killer view.

He came inside, pouring himself a drink, and a strange pit in his stomach settled after the burning liquid soothed his throat. He can’t seem to kick that feeling when you’re asleep. When you were awake, next to him, there wasn’t anything else he could think about. But alone, walking around a house he owned, a life he might try and live staring him in the face, he felt guilty. There were parts of him he wouldn’t ever get back, but this wasn’t something he thought he’d ever have. Peace and quiet, time to himself. A woman he loved within eyesight, buried under blankets cause she was too stubborn to come inside when it got freezing. He couldn’t figure out why now, of all times, was the time to be thinking of Maria. The weight of the ring around his neck was like an anchor. He knew it was stuck on the bottom of the ocean, but he couldn’t find it in himself to let go. He would sit there, hand cut up and bleeding, holding on for dear fucking life if no one moved him, waiting until he drowned.

Your footsteps were soft, in a way that he knows you can’t help. You tread through the open double doors, and Frank would roll his eyes at the way he could hear your teeth chattering if he wasn’t so distracted.

“You should of woke me.” You say, voice muffled from the mess your head was buried under. He took a step toward you, pushing it back so he could see your eyes.

“It’s late.”

“Couldn’t tell.” He can hear the smirk in your voice.

“You finally frozen to death, smart-ass?” You grumble something in reply, and he catches a few curse words before you look at him again. It’s nearly scary, the way you can read him with one sweep of your eyes. You clock his tone, the way he isn’t leaning into you with his full weight, and squint your eyes.

“What is it?” Frank sucks in a long breath, and kisses you.

He’s a complete idiot. That’s what it is. He can feel the buzzing pulse you wake in him, every movement of your lips on his rooting you deeper in his soul, chipping off ice until theres only warmth. How’s he supposed to tell you, after you’ve just kissed him like that, that he was thinking about his–

“You can talk to me about her, Frank.” You say with your head against his. Not it, her. Before he can ask, you smile a little. Even just a hint of that smile and he’s forgetting how to breathe. “You play with the ring when you’re nervous. It’s actually a bit of a tell.”

“Yeah?” He manages, hands trying to search their way through the blankets for you.

“Yeah. You have a lot of tells. For someone in your line of work, it’s actually a bit worrying.”

“You got me all figured out.” He says and means it, but you just roll your eyes.

“And you lean to the left when you think you can’t make a shot. You think it helps your angle.”

“Who woulda thought you were so observant.”

“You know, I actually did watch you when you were teaching me how to shoot.” Frank smiles, your skin finally under his palms. His hands splay on your back, and you lean closer.

“You were trying to fuck me the whole time. Don’t blame me for being surprised.” You try to whack him but your arms are pinned under the layers. Your laughter carries through him, skittering into his chest until he can’t help but laugh too.

“You came onto me.” He laughs harder. “It was very unprofessional. I was there to learn.”

“Damn fucking right I did.” His voice is low, and you shuffle around under his hold until your hands snake up behind his neck. His hair is too long, but he hasn’t cut it just yet. He tells himself that he hasn’t had time, but truthfully he likes the way it feels when you sift your fingers through the ends of it. Like now.

“You can tell me.” You say again, softer. He’s softer too– more malleable now you were here.

“I can’t help it.” He looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to where the sun is now just starting to rise. “She woulda… woulda liked it here. The kids, too.”

“You think so?” He nods, still staring into the orange sky.

“Probably would of had a lot to say about the inside, though.” You wrap around him tighter, head on his chest. “She was so good with those things. She loved when we painted our house. She had all these colors painted next to each other on the wall. All these different kinds of green. Everyone kept sayin’ it all looked the same but she... she could tell the difference. I could see what she meant when she put the couch next to it and shit, you know? She was real good with that stuff.”

“We could use her help around here. This place is sort of… ugly, on the inside.” He laughed again, his throat feeling tighter as he looked around. There was those same colour swatches, but none of them were coordinated like he was remembering. Pinks, blues, oranges and grays were all mixed together in big, sweeping strikes along the wall, stopping right above where your arm would be able to reach. “What would she have gone with?”

He looks down at you, your face washed in the light of the sunrise.

“The light orange. It looks good with the brown.” He nods over to the couch, an old leather one you’d made him pick up off the side of the road.

“We’ll do that one, then.” You tuck yourself under his chin, sighing.

“I think about ‘em everyday. What the kids would have looked like now. What they’d be doing. How Maria and I would of… raised ‘em. I was away all the time, but I just-”

“I think you would have been just fine.” You say into his chest, and Frank takes a shuddering breath.

“Why’s that?“

“Cause she was in love with you.” His chest tightens, and the grip he’s got on your waist gets a little tighter. “I’m… I’ll never be able to fix…that. It’ll always be with you, and nothing will change what happened, but I want you to know that they will always have a place here. You don’t have to apologize for talking about them– the kids, or Maria. I will never, ever not listen, and it will never be something I don’t want to hear. If they’re always with you, they’ll be with me, too.”

Frank takes two steps forward, and your feet pick up just in time to catch yourself before he throws you back on the couch. He’s never been good with words for things like this. He doesn’t think he should try to shove it all in a sentence, either. Not when theres so much he wants to say, but even more he wants to do.

You lay back, and he moves slowly. He wants you to know every move, every brush of his hand and his mouth is by design. He wants to know every square inch of you inside and out like you know him. He wants his hands to pull the strings, letting you hear all the things his mouth could never possibly form.

“Perfect.” Frank sighs against your mouth, over and over again. It was. You were. Are. The pit in his stomach disappears, pushed out and engulfed by the flames in his chest. There was no room for anything, not a single other feeling or word could possibly fit the way you two fit together. Your fingers tug at his shirt, and he takes it over his head. Your hands run and smooth gentle lines over his chest, over the healing wound on his side. It's jagged and wonky, and it nearly spelt your name. Frank thinks it’s the first time he’s looked down at himself and not hated to see the scars.

He unravels you like a gift to himself, savouring every moment even when you try to shrug off the blanket. You hadn’t dressed since last night, and Frank liked it even more this way. You sighed his name, and Frank shuddered, sealing his mouth over yours again. When his eyes opened for a split second, he could see your face, washed in orange light, and your hair swept to the side. He shut his eyes and kissed you again, the image seared into his mind forever.

Frank had faced a lot of bad things in his life. He had been shot, stabbed, pulled apart and put back together more times than he could remember. He thought he’d seen it all, felt it all before, but there was nothing like this. Nothing made him as weak as your fingers in his hair, and nothing made him as strong as the way you moaned his name. Nothing felt as good as sliding inside you, and nothing felt as empty as when you were gone. It made him lightheaded and brought him to the brink of consciousness, but he knew that this was right.

It could of been minutes or hours that had passed when he let himself go, but no amount of time with you under him would stop him from wanting more. The sun was up now, and Frank had you tucked to his side on the small space of the couch, legs tangled together in the blankets and each other. He felt you shiver against him, and the blankets wrapped around you had come loose. He bent to fix them, and when he moved you did it again.

He looked down, seeing the cold line of metal pressed against your bare back. The ring at the end was hanging over your ribs, and when Frank touched it, it was freezing. Holding it in his palm, it didn’t feel as heavy as it used to, and when he read the engraving on the back, he still felt cold.

Looking down at you, how you rolled over and sought him out even with your eyes closed, he leaned down to kiss the scar on your forehead. Then, like it was the simplest thing in the world, he slipped the necklace off over his head, and placed it in a neat circle on the coffee table next to his head.

They would always have a place here. But it wasn’t them who gave him warmth anymore.

When he tucked himself back under the covers, he knew it was you. It was always you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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okay theres going to be an epilogue at some point, but it will probably be small and have very little plot, so this is the end of the main story. so, heres a little rant for you. if you read it, thank you, and if you dont, thank you anyways. knowing anyone is reading my words is a gift enough.

i think i have been writing this series for like 5/6 months ish?? thats fucking wild. i dont have an exact word count, but all i know is its fucking long. i cannot believe i wrote this much about a fictional character, but damn. that is a lot.

basically all i want to say here is thank you. to anyone who has read, interacted, or will read in the future, thank you from the bottom of my heart. it might be a lil dramatic but having people read stuff i write, let alone actually enjoy it makes me so incredibly happy. starting to write on here, and for frank especially, is probably one of the best decisions ive ever made. this series was a struggle to finish for so many reasons, mainly my incredible lack of planning and overall dumb writing schedule, but i have met so many incredible people along the way, and i am just so grateful to have a lil space to share my work.

frank castle will probably always own a giant spot in my heart, so thank you for letting me share my version of him. and letting me add as much smut as i want to this with no complaints bc i fuckin needed it okay!!!!!! i love you all. rant over. series over. damn!

p.s. i am never not going to write frank. dont worry. i already have an idea for my next series lmao!!!!!!!! luv ya!

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #marvel tv #the punisher x reader #the punisher x you #marvel #the punisher x y/n

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