#i mentioned it in the tags of the other post but i just wanted to share how fun her pictures are

[tbaluver]

hihi !! ^-^ I hope you’re doing great! I want to see your take on how the lads men would react when they’re lovemaking and you fall asleep and they realize the condom broke what do you think ?? take your time !! ❤️

The Condom Broke- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader, Caleb x Reader genre: smut, suggestive a/n: hihi anonnie! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i hope you're doing well too! apologies for posting late hopefully ill post more this week! i hope this was alright and that you enjoy reading! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

tags: mentioning of backshots

you were both utterly tired. just minutes ago, the room had been filled with ragged breaths and tangled limbs, your bodies moving with desperate need for each other. now, the adrenaline has faded.

he watched how your breathing grew slower, your body sinking deeper into the mattress. your eyes fluttered shut a while ago and he could tell by the way your chest rose and fell that you’d surrender into sleep.

xavier’s eyes were heavy, his body aching to rest, but he knew he couldn’t sleep just yet—not without cleaning you up first. as he moved carefully to not wake you, something caught his eye. a small tear on the rubber material.

a quiet frustrated sigh leaves his lips. of course. what did he expect when your arousal stains the length of his cock. his cock hits deeper and deeper with each stroke and your cunt grips on his cock so tightly like it wants to keep him inside forever. the way your arms are shaking like jelly and how your words are muffled against the pillow only spur him on more. he can’t get enough of you and your sweet little cunt. 

his heart sank a little. a quiet sigh slipped out, more tired than frustrated. he should’ve noticed earlier.

he says nothing, simply tending to you first with slow and gentle hands, wiping you clean as you sleep soundly. he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder then to your lips. he makes a silent promise as he watches you sleep. tomorrow, he’ll be up before you. first thing in the morning, he’ll be out the door, making sure he gets the pill before you even have to worry or wake up. it’s his responsibility and he’s not going to let you face it alone.

Zayne:

tags: mentioning of p in v

zayne sighs, his eyes closed shut for a moment in annoyance when he catches the tear in the rubber material as he pulls out. perhaps he did go a little overboard tonight.

it’s been too long—days turning into nights, and both of you pulled in opposite directions because of conflicting schedules. so when you finally came back to each other’s arms, it was desperate and intense.

he kisses you hungirly, open-mouthed. you gasp, taking in his tongue as it dances with yours. your eyes roll in the back of your head as he thrusts into you deeply and impatiently. the bed starts to creak at his strokes, desperate to feel more of you.

luckily, zayne had prepared for moments like this. he quickly disposes of the used rubber before heading to the bathroom to grab the birth control pill he keeps on hand- just in case times like this happens. after pouring a glass of water he returns to the bedroom, kneeling beside the bed.

“my love,” he whispers, cradling your cheek, “can you wake up for just a moment?”

you stir, your lashes fluttering open to meet his gaze-warm and apologetic. “i may have..gone a little overboard tonight,” he murmurs awardly, holding out the pill and glass of water. “i’m sorry. are you alright?”

you take the hint and give a sleepy nod, taking the pill before downing the water. he stays close, wiping you down. “i didn’t expect to miss you this much,” he murmurs, quietly.

Rafayel:

tags: mentioning of p in v

he holds the broken rubber in the palm of his hands, a look of horror on his face. what did he do? the question haunts him in his head. a mix of ‘she’s going to kill me’ and ‘it’s my fault’ follow his mind as well.

his mind was so foggy as you slowly sank further down on his cock. you were so warm, so soft. your weeping cunt wrapped around him so heavenly that he thinks he might just see his lemurian ancestors early.

rafayel continues to babble incoherent words as your walls clench around his pretty cock, the tip of his cock rubbing deliciously at your sweet spot. you both know that you were so close once he saw your hips falter in keeping pace. his pretty hands grab your ass, helping you move up and down his length as both your breathless babbling echo off the walls.

“cutie..” he whispers, gently patting you, trying to coax you awake. “cutie—i..uhm..”his voice falters as you blink at him sleepily. he glances down at the torn rubber in his hand, then back at you with wide, apologetic eyes. 

“i’m so sorry. what can i do?” the words tumble out of his lips quickly. “i can run to the pharmacy, okay? just tell me what you need. you can stay here—i’ll be quick. i promise imsososososorry.” despite how fast he speaks, you understand him. the guilt is written all over his face.

when he returns, he brings you a glass of water and carefully hands you the pill. there’s still guilt etched on his face but you reach for him, gently reassuring him that you’re okay. he nods even though he’s not sure he deserves the comfort. that night, when you curl into his chest, he holds you just a little tighter.

Sylus:

tags: mentioning of p in v

ah. sylus won’t lie—he definitely saw this coming. a part of him always knew it might happen eventually. even a high end, top-rated brand can only handle so much. he knew his size can push the limits. 

but the way you pleaded breathlessly, begging him to go harder, deeper—how could he possibly deny you?

you were gasping for air from how his ruthless cock pistoned in and out of your pussy. waves of pleasure flow over your entire body as you find yourself stretched in a way you didn’t think was possible. your fingers or any toy could possibly match up to his.

the tip of his cock repeatedly prods at your sweet spot while you wrap your legs around his waist. you feel so impossibly full from his entire length that your nails rake down his forearms that will for sure leave marks the morning after.

still, he wished he had caught it sooner—while you were still awake. he checked the time on his phone. it’s late. the shops are well closed by now but luckily sleep doesn’t come easily to him during the night. carefully, he shifts to clean you up— his hands gently wiping you clean.

once you were settled, his arms find their way back around you, pulling you in until your head rest over his heart. he stays like this for a while, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of your chest as you sleep. he doesn’t move, not yet. he waits, counting down the minutes until the pharmacy opens. when the time comes, he plans to ease himself out from under your sleeping form, careful not to wake you. by the time your eyes flutter open, he’ll already be back as if he never left at all.

Caleb:

tags: mentioning of p in v

caleb sighs as his eyes fall on the tear in the rubber, a quiet curse falls under his breath. he glances back at you, fast asleep—so beautiful. a small smile tugs at his lips, but it fades quickly.

he knows this is on him. he’d let himself get carried away tonight—too caught up in the way you were squeezing him so well that made him forget everything else but wanting more of you.

the sound of both your breathless babbling bounces off the walls. his fingertips dig into your thighs as he ruts into your tight cunt in desperation. both of you barely catch any of your words, both your minds turning into static every time his cock hits against your sweet spot. a guttural groan escapes him when your velvety walls flutter and- no.

he shakes his head, he can’t get hard again. he has to get the morning after pill quickly.

he slips on his clothes quickly but before he leaves, he returns to your side. his hand gently rests on your head as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. carefully, he tucks you in, making sure you are warm and content. then, he heads out the door, carrying a promise that he’ll be back soon before you even know it.

ʚɞ cr. for the dividers @/ cafekitsune

ʚɞ thank you to my lovely beta reader @ilovemitsuya MWAH (˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶)

ʚɞ 𝘕𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯:

ʚɞ my other works if you want to check it out! The Love And DeepSpace Masterlist, Pg. 2

ʚɞ Others:

Wattpad

Twitter ( but like i barely know how to use it )

[tea-writes19]

play-by-play | b.b.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

summary: you can’t stop posting live updates of the civil war

warnings: avenger!reader, fox shifter!reader, comedy, chaotic dumbass reader, grumpy bucky, the team is so done with reader’s shit, mentions of bucky’s past, swearing, civil war tension?, reader is team cap, suggestive content, fluff

a/n: guess who’s back bitches!!! this isn’t a request or anything, i just wanted to write some cw!bucky x reader. i promise i’m working on all the joaquin requests🤞🏻anyways enjoy lovelies :)

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: sokovia accords?? ho what?!]

story replies

user1: lmao

user2: girl get over it🙄

user3: y’all need to be kept in check….

steverogers: y/n delete this

user4: you’re so real for this

jamesrhodes: 🤦🏿‍♂️🤦🏿‍♂️

liked by wandamaximoff, samwilson, mariahill, and others

yourusername: throwback to that time my future husband almost killed my friends and i

tagged: @/steverogers @/samwilson @/natasharomanoff

view comments below

user5: GIRL WHAT?!

wandamaximoff: so that’s the guy you keep bringing up👀😲

user6: ho is that the winter soldier???

user7: wait a damn min—

user8: THE WINTER SOLDIER?!?!

user9: i don’t think y/n is okay…

user10: girl we been knew

steverogers: please stop calling bucky your future husband

user11: 😭😭

user12: y/n really out here tryna date cap’s brainwashed bestie from the forties

user13: honestly bucky barnes is so hot tho

samwilson: can your future husband stop leading us on a wild goose chase🙄

yourusername: that would be nice😔

user14: lmaoooooo

steverogers: please stop encouraging her, sam

user15: i’m convinced y/n was dropped on the head as a baby

yourusername: bold of you to assume i was held

user16: i—

user17: girl are you okayyyyy????

yourusername: don’t ask stupid questions

steverogers: this is why tony and i tried to get you to go to therapy🤦🏼‍♂️

natasharomanoff: when did you even have time to take these pics??

yourusername: uhhhhhhh

yourusername: so i may or may not have had time to prevent you getting shot….

natasharomanoff: …

nastasharomanoff: i hate you

liked by samwilson, natasharomanoff, sharoncarter, and others

yourusername: rip peggy carter but sam and i are slaying

tagged: @/samwilson

view comments below

user18: HELLOOOOO?????

user19: peggy carter: slayed. sam and y/n? SLAYED

user20: 😭😭

user21: OH MY GOD😭

sharoncarter: it’s what she would have wanted😔✊

yourusername: pouring one out for a legend😔✊

user22: peggy so would have wanted this!!😭

user23: omg i’m crying

user24: THIS is how i find out?!

samwilson: i would like everyone to know that cowboy hat did wonders for me

yourusername: save a horse, ride a cowboy

yourusername: except it’s more save a horse, ride a bird?

user25: y/n what😭

steverogers: i don’t even know what to say right now…

user26: rip to a real one

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: HUBBY NO!!!!]

story replies

steverogers: y/n…..🤦🏼‍♂️

user27: so sorry babes…..

user28: rip✊

natasharomanoff: y/n. people are dead….

user29: girl, stop simping for a literal terrorist

user30: this is not it….

liked by sharoncarter, samwilson, clintbarton, and others

yourusername: my pookie and i have been reunited🥰❤️

view comments below

samwilson: awwww…..fuck your husband

yourusername: i’m trying….

user31: 😳😭

user32: y/n😭😭

user33: why the winter soldier kinda….

user34: frfr👀

user35: he’s a literal terrorist. what is wrong with you people!

user36: still hot🤷‍♀️

user37: convinced y/n has like a dash cam on her harness or smth bc….

steverogers: why do i even bother🙄

user38: cap’s face😭😭

user39: watched the chase on the news, you hopping onto barnes’ back to get off the building was hilarious😭

user40: omg i saw thattttt

user41: and when he just tossed her to the side after by picking her up by the scruff😭😭

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: the fucking audacity these bitches have…]

story replies

user42: awwwww

user43: why didn’t you just shift back😭😭

samwilson: deserved

yourusername: 🖕

natasharomanoff: they leashed you???

jamesrhodes: saving this for blackmail purposes

user44: why do you look so happy tho😭

yourusername: saw the love of my life

liked by jamesrhodes, natasharomanoff, tonystark, and others

yourusername: papa y papa are fighting and my love is locked up😔

view comments below

natasharomanoff: WE TOOK YOUR PHONE??

natasharomanoff: what is this sorcery

yourusername: 🤭🤗

user45: sad day to be y/n…

user46: y/n is a child of divorce😔😭

tonystark: stop posting pictures of secure government buildings

yourusername: *bugs bunny ‘no’ gif*

user47: bucky barnes committed regicide and has murdered countless people…

user47: he deserves to be locked up

user48: wrong account to say this to babes

user49: you act like the bitch cares

user50: frrrr….y/n is horrible too

user51: she should be locked up too imo

sharoncarter: king t’challa keeps looking like he’s a second away from murdering you…

yourusername: i have that effect on people

user52: 😭😭

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: pookilicious is evil again😔😩]

story replies

tonystark: A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE

natasharomanoff: GET OFF THE FUCKING PHONE

samwilson: i hate this bitch so much….

user53: those thighs tho👀😩

user54: GIRL RUN!!!

liked by wandamaximoff, scottlang, samwilson, and others

yourusername: abouta fight, kinda nervous👉🏻👈🏻

tagged: @/steverogers @/samwilson @/clintbarton @/wandamaximoff @/scottlang

view comments below

user56: we really made this girl an avenger😭

steverogers: bucky would like you to stop taking pictures of him

user57: 😭😭

yourusername: tell him to talk to me to the face then, bitch

samwilson: language!

clintbarton: language!

wandamaximoff: language!

user58: you still a criminal🤷‍♀️

user59: hope you get arrested😘

user60: team whatever team ends up with y/n and bucky barnes getting married

[liked by yourusername]

clintbarton: so this is why nat’s been complaining nonstop over text about you….

scottlang: great to meet you!

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: weird spider kid beat these bitches asses]

story replies

samwilson: you’re insufferable🖕

user61: men doing men things: manspreading

user62: they look so done….

scottlang: oh shit, bird and scary dude are down!

user63: love how you always have time to update us😭😭

liked by scottlang, peterparker, wandamaximoff, and others

yourusername: 🎶everybody was kung fu fighting🎶

view comments below

steverogers: the least you could do is get a good pic of me….

user64: poor guy has given up trying to stop y/n😭

user65: 🎶kung fu fighting🎶

user66: 🎶those cats were fast as lightning🎶

user67: 🎶in fact it was a little bit frightening🎶

scottlang: 🎶but they fought with expert timing🎶

user68: omg hawkeye!!!

user69: why’s the spider got cap’s shield😱

user70: scarlet witch deserves to be locked up for lagos!!

natasharomanoff: i don’t know how you of all people managed to escape….

yourusername: ☺️🤗

yourusername added to their story -->

[caption: little guy can be big guy!!]

story replies

peterparker: big guy big guy big guy—

user71: omg ant-man?!

user72: holy shit….

user73: the duplicity of scott lang🤭

hopepym: well….that’s new

liked by natasharomanoff, tchallaudaku, peterparker, and others

yourusername: siberia is cold

tagged: @/steverogers @/buckybarnes

view comments below

user74: slay queen💅

natasharomanoff: d-did you make barnes an instagram???

yourusername: had a spare phone and was bored on the flight

buckybarnes: i have never met someone who can talk as much as you…

yourusername: awwww i love you too hubby!!

user75: egypt is hot

user76: usa is room temp

peterparker: man this is better than my footage!

user77: not y/n making the WINTER SOLDIER an instagram😭😭

liked by samwilson, scottlang, peterparker, and others

yourusername: my dads broke up and pookie lost his arm but it’s ok bc i got mcds😌

view comments below

user78: #rip stony 2016😔✊

user79: GIRL RIP THE AVENGERS?!

user80: avengers: 2012-2016😢

buckybarnes: i LOST my ARM

yourusername: you’d think you’d be used to it but noooooo

buckybarnes: IT WAS MY FUCKING ARM????

samwilson: the raft fucking sucks bestie

yourusername: i’m so sorry bestie

user81: i’m literally speechless rn…

user82: the winter soldier being framed WAS NOT on my 2016 bingo card😭😭

user83: frfr

user84: say sike rn

yourusername added to their story —>

[caption: damn this place is nice]

story replies

steverogers: we’re literal fugitives y/n

user85: i-is that fucking wakanda?!?

buckybarnes: i’m not getting rid of you anytime soon am i?

yourusername: nope!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~two years later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

liked by buckybarnes, steverogers, samwilson, and others

yourusername: stuck for life🤍🥂

tagged: @/buckybarnes

view comments below

buckybarnes: wouldn’t have it any other way, doll

user86: omg omg omg!!!!!!!!

samwilson: prettiest flower girl by the way!

user87: STOP😭😭

user88: you’re literally glowing🫶🏻

user89: congrats!!!

natasharomanoff: you see, this is an appropriate post

user90: y/n is the manifester of all manifesters…

steverogers: i can’t believe i just witnessed my best friend get married….

tonystark: lovely wedding. only critique is the groom

yourusername: 🖕

user91: 😭😭

user92: oh my god😭

steverogers: tony i swear to god—

clintbarton: language!

© tea-writes19 do not repost, translate, or copy

[another-buddiefic-blog]

Recent Bookmarks

I haven't posted in a bit, and don't have any tag lists ready, so here's some of my recent bookmarks

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from the ground up by marviless Word Count: 51,763 or, the story of how buck discovers he has a six-year-old daughter, spirals a bit, becomes an astronaut in training, kisses the love of his life, makes lasagna, and learns that his heart might just be the perfect place to build a home, all in seven days.

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something to hold onto by foxwatson Word Count: 5,185 or the one where frank tells eddie he should work on letting himself want things, and eddie starts by cuddling with buck

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oh brother, I see (you burn like me) by canadadry Word Count: 47,911 Or: Adriana arrives in LA. Maddie has been here the whole time.

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for all the love you've left behind by Daisies_and_Briars Word Count: 32,117 When a DNA test reveals a surprising connection between Buck and Bobby, both must navigate their own trauma and insecurities to move forward.

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Bodies Break by Pansys_goth_gf Word Count: 5,514 Or, Buck gets hurt, and it changes the course of his life.

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Badly Beaten Self Esteem Has Got Me Needing You by bvddiesbro Word Count: 27,712 Buck slowly realises that maybe he's not a burden, that he doesn't need to make his problems smaller to make room for others.

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garden of dreams by simplyylupin Word Count: 2,995 When they'd first started dating, Buck had warned him he is, quote-on-quote, an octopus in bed. That he has a tendency of latching onto whoever's closest and flailing all over them. Legs tangled, arms wound, heads tucked together, noses brushing. What Buck never mentioned, however, is his affinity for talking in his sleep.

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You’ll Be Alright, Kid by icewhisper Word Count: 10,710 The first time Howard Han meets Evan Buckley, the kid is twenty and trapped in the mangled remains of his Jeep. It’s the call he can’t quite shake. (AKA the amputee!Buck AU absolutely no one asked for where Chim and Buck meet six years sooner and everything is just a little different and not any different at all.)

-----

[i-hope-this-is-a-phase]

Since everyone’s talking about follower counts, I want to bring something up:

When I first joined dtblr in 2023, I would CONSISTENTLY get 0 notes: you can check my archive and see it for yourself.

In over a year of posting, rehlogging, and interacting, I got maybe 10 followers total. 10.

It wasn’t until the Gituation that I amassed a bunch of followers because I made the “In Regards to the GNF situation” post.

It wasn’t better than any of my other posts. It wasn’t snazzy art or fanfic: it just happened to be the post that made me get my following.

So, please don’t see all the people mentioning getting 100+ followers and feel bad.

Your art and work is good! Please keep tagging them using #dtblr so I can find and reblog. Please keep contributing to this fandom because it absolutely makes a huge difference for artists and writers.

And, if any of you ever want me to reblog your art or writing or posts, my door is and always will be open for asks and DMs.

You’re all doing lovely, and there’s no need to compare yourself when what you do is already incredibly awesome :)

[dissociativewriter]

It’s just a game, right?

Pairing: Reader x LADS Boys

wc: 3.6k

cw: this is a crack fic, tension, bickering, dramatics, proposed murder, mentions of prostitution, you can tell my Sylus bias; not proofread

Synopsis: You invited your five close friends over for a game of Clue. Sure, you were nervous, but how bad could it be?

author’s note: inspired by @alynnia ‘s reblog on this post! Kinda went off the rails but i still think it’s funny. When Sylus was talking about his job as a fruit vendor and mentions how popular the pomegranates are, i almost had him say it was dragonfruit instead, but i wanted to lean into his (albeit minor) pomegranate symbolism. Also im sorry but there’s not much Xavier :( I wasn’t sure how to write him so he’s asleep a lot

tag list: @p4r4dx

Boxes shifted precariously as you carefully pulled Clue from the very middle of the pile. Board games swayed threateningly as you halted your movements, Clue half-out in this impromptu game of jenga. Holding the box triumphantly in both hands, you used your hip to shut the cabinet door, moving forward into the living room.

You dropped it on the coffee table before leaving to get more snacks from the kitchen. Stopping to check the time, you made a mental checklist as you noted you had only thirty minutes until your guests would arrive (if they were on time, that is). You had to put the snacks out, make everything cozy for game night, and shove the growing laundry pile into the closet, hidden away from sight, along with other unsightly or embarrassing things you’d removed from your home.

Of course, you wouldn’t put it past your guests to snoop around anyway.

You set out small bowls of chips, crackers, popcorn, cookies, and chocolates. You only hoped they wouldn’t run out in the first ten minutes. Centering the game’s board in the center with the various bowls around it, you set out all of the little things. The pile of cards (un-shuffled right now. Knowing your guests, they’d want to see you deal them to know you didn’t cheat) off to the side, the small character pieces in their rightful places, and the tiny revolver, rope, lead pipe, wrench, knife, and candlestick placed in various rooms on the board. You grinned proudly at you work, enjoying the aesthetic placement of everything on the table.

Swiftly picking up your laundry as you entered the bedroom, you unceremoniously dumped the pile in your closet along with any other skeletons you didn’t want them seeing. Next, you grabbed a couple fluffy blankets and plucked six plushies off your bed: Pinecone Bear, Bunbun, Happy Snowman, Artsy Birb, Grumpy Crow, and Sunny Apple. You arranged them in a neat pile on the table next to your front door, making sure each was visible.

You took one final look at your living room, tossing a blanket here, fluffing a pillow there. Overall, it had all the coziness you’d wanted. You dimmed the lights, keeping only a couple lamps around the coffee table. Moving the box away from the setup, you jolted as you realized the detective notebooks had been forgotten. You quickly grabbed six, tossing them onto the table, as you rushed to the kitchen, digging through your aptly named ‘junk drawer’ for six pens, pencils, hell, even chalk would do.

Grasping the sixth pencil (luckily, you hadn’t had to resort to chalk), you nearly dropped it as knock sounded on your front door. You tossed the pencils on the coffee table before smoothing out your shirt. You had one last look on the mirror, trying to make sure you looked casual but still put together, and opened the door.

Immediately craning your neck to meet piercing crimson eyes, you grinned as you welcomed him in.

He merely raised an eyebrow. “Eager, much?”

“And a bit nervous,” you sighed as you ran a hand through your hair. “I don’t know if everyone’s going to get along. I’m just hoping the night doesn’t end with me cleaning blood out of my carpet.”

He huffed out a laugh. “As if I would leave a mess for you to clean. You should know I work neatly and efficiently, sweetie.” He took a step forward, intending to move from your entryway to your living room before you placed a hand on his chest. He looked down at you expectantly.

“Before you go,” you pointed to the entryway table, “pick a plushie.”

He chuckled. “Truly, you know how to give your guests a… luxurious experience.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Just pick one, Sylus.” He grinned at you before turning to the plushies.

You watched expectantly as attentive eyes scanned over each plushie. You had an idea, of course, which one he’d pick, but now it was just a matter of seeing if you were right. You internally pumped your fist as Sylus picked up Grumpy Crow, a similar expression on his face.

“I suppose this one will suffice.”

“You sound so grumpy about it, but I see the way you’re holding him close.” You smiled knowingly before turning to walk into the living room. He followed close behind, turning Grumpy Crow over in his hands.

“It’s a he?” Sylus looked between you and the crow incredulously.

“Well, it’s not a she,” you said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You motioned to what you had set up for the game, a grin of pride on your face. “Here, you can sit wherever. I have snacks here and there’s drinks in the fridge.”

Sylus looked around. “It’s very… cozy. I take it I’m the first to arrive?” He looked back to you.

“You were ten minutes early,” you shrugged.

“It’s more polite to show up a few minutes early than late.”

As if on cue, a practiced knock met the door.

You quickly went to answer the door, leaving Sylus to his own devices. Opening the door, his eyes met yours briefly before beginning a methodical sweep over your apartment.

“I apologize,” he began, “if I’ve caught you in the middle of something. I wanted to make sure I was on time—” His eyes landed on Sylus looking increasingly out of place amidst fluffy blankets and fairy lights. Sylus met his gaze with a wolfish grin. “I see you already have a guest.” He eyed Sylus up and down.

Sylus rose, taking quick strides towards the door. “Yes, I’m Sylus. I assume you’re Doctor Zayne?”

Zayne swiftly adjusted his glasses before offering his hand to Sylus to shake. “Good evening, Sylus. Just Zayne will do, though. No need for honorifics outside of the office.” He offered a polite smile.

You watched, shifting on your feet, as the men stood in your entryway, sizing each other up. Though you were relieved things seemed to be going smoothly right now, you knew it could only go downhill from here given the three remaining guests. “Oh, Zayne!” He tore his gaze away from Sylus to meet your excited expression. “Before we go sit down, pick a plushie.” You motioned with a flourish to the small table beside you.

Zayne only stared at you blankly. “That’s childish,” he said bluntly.

“Now, now, doctor. If our hostess requires us to pick a plushie, I don’t see why we should deny her.” Sylus hadn’t lost his grin as he tapped his finger against his temple.

Zayne glanced between you and Sylus before sighing and grabbing Happy Snowman. He raised an eyebrow. “Satisfied?”

You nodded in approval. “Very.”

The men took seats opposite each other, and an almost-comfortable silence took over. You sat on the edge of your couch, ready to open the door.

“I understand you have a very impressive resume, Zayne,” Sylus said as he crossed his legs.

“I try.” He nodded curtly.

“So humble.” Sylus raised an eyebrow.

“I see no point in focusing on past accomplishments,” Zayne explained icily, “When there is still much to do.”

“I’m surprised you were able to make it, Zayne,” you interrupted, nervous of the rising tensions. You wanted to stop before Sylus goaded Zayne into losing his composure. It was hard enough to get Zayne to agree to join this game night, you weren’t about to let him leave before it even started. “I feel like I haven’t been able to see you much lately.”

“Greyson and Yvonne informed me I needed to ‘interact with more people outside of work.’ When you proposed a game of Clue with your friends, I felt compelled to agree.”

“Well, I know I’m quite honored that you can find the time to entertain an evening with the likes of our dear hostess’s friends and I.” Crimson eyes bore into hazel ones.

Before you could redirect the conversation, there was another knock.

“Hey, pip-squeak!” Sylus didn’t miss the doctor’s rigid posture as the recognition of the nickname, or his white knuckles as he clutched Happy Snowman tighter.

Sylus shifted closer to Zayne. “I take it you don’t like this next guest,” he whispered.

“It’s a childish prejudice,” Zayne dismissed quickly, though his eyes were trained on you as you welcomed Caleb inside.

“You seem to think a lot of things childish,” Sylus murmured. “That doesn’t render them meaningless, though.”

Zayne stared at Sylus before they both turned as Caleb entered, Sunny Apple in hand. His smile tightened as he recognized Zayne, his eyes lingering before sparing a glance to Sylus who was now sprawled across a portion of the couch.

“Sylus, Zayne, this is Caleb.” You weakly motioned to Caleb, already wincing at the thick tension. Sylus raised his chin, crimson eyes glinting with mischief.

“Ah, if it isn’t the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet. Tell me, how does one become a Colonel so young?” His head dipped down slightly as a smirk played on his lips.

At the mention of the Fleet, Caleb’s posture straightened, his smile dropping as he observed the leader of Onychinus. “Strength, precision, and loyalty,” he listed off firmly. “My various accomplishments helped me to achieve my rank in the Fleet.”

“Oh? Are you certain it wasn’t higher powers coming into play?” He cocked his head.

As Caleb took a step forward, you suddenly jumped in. “Sylus, why don’t you help me bring some drinks in? What does everyone want?” Ignoring Caleb’s glare towards Sylus and quickly noting everyone’s requests, you dragged Sylus behind you into the kitchen, noticing he was all too eager to receive your inevitable scolding.

“What is your problem?” you hissed as you pulled glasses out of your cabinet.

Sylus leaned leisurely against the counter, taking the glasses as you handed them to him. “I was merely making conversation. I’m just trying to get to know your friends, sweetie.” His smirk grew wide.

“You’re goading them on and you know it.” You narrowed your eyes at him before sighing. “Why can’t you just behave?”

“I’m only trying to make out what kind of people you make friends with,” he explained. “Since I’m one of them, I think I have at least some reason to be concerned. But if it really is that important to you,” his voice softened, “I’ll play nice, kitten.”

Your shoulders relaxed. “Thank goodness.”

“So long as they do, too,” he added as he followed you out of the kitchen, drinks in hand.

Back in the living room, Caleb and Zayne were sat in chairs opposite each other, a tense silence filling in the air. You set the drinks down on the table, Sylus close behind, as you frantically searched for something to say.

Luckily, you were spared the pain as the fourth knock of the night sounded.

As you turned to the door, Caleb asked, “Pip-squeak, how many people did you say would be comin’ over?”

“Five altogether,” you answered. “So after this, there will only be one left.”

With your back to the men, Zayne’s face broke into a small grin at Caleb’s grimace. “Are you alright, Caleb?” he asked, his brows drawing together in faux concern. “You look ill.”

“Perhaps that’s just how he looks,” Sylus drawled.

Shooting Sylus (another) glare, Caleb answered through gritted teeth, “I’m fine.”

As the group listened to the “Hey there, cutie. Did you miss me?” coming from the door, Zayne ducked his head to hide his smile as Caleb’s jaw clenched tightly.

The men observed the mop of purple hair following behind you, evidently unamused. “Zayne, Sylus, Caleb.” You pointed each of them out. “This is Rafayel.” Rafayel greeted them noticeably less excitedly than he’d greeted you, though his charm was still undeniable. He put more of his focus onto Artsy Birb as you left to get him a drink.

“So, Rafayel. What is it that you do?” Sylus asked.

Rafayel shrugged. “I guess I’m what you call an artist.”

Sylus nodded, opening his mouth to speak again when Caleb broke in. “Sylus,” he turned his head to meet crimson eyes, hands clenched to fists on his thighs. “You’re interrogating everyone else, but haven’t said anything about yourself. What is it that you do?”

Sylus waved his hand carelessly as if he were waving off the question. “I suppose you could say I’m a fruit vendor.”

“Oh? Are you very successful?” Zayne asked carefully.

“Somewhat. Our pomegranates are specifically quite popular.” He smirked.

Caleb muttered, “I never cared for pomegranate.”

Sylus eyes landed on the plushie in Caleb’s lap. “Yes, well, I never cared for apples.”

You watched from the sidelines with arms crossed as Caleb stiffened, shifting in his seat like he was about to storm over to Sylus. As if sensing your impending panic, Rafayel spoke up.

“Cutie, where’s your last guest? If he takes any longer, he’ll be late, jellyfishes will be walkin’ naked, sea turtles will be climbing trees, sharks will be eating grass for free!”

You shook your head as a grin made its way onto your face, Rafayel’s own expression mirroring your own once he caught sight of it.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon, Raf, but…” You pulled out your phone. “Maybe I should call him. Just to make sure everything’s alright.”

Caleb stood then, putting his hand on your back to push you towards the couch. “He’ll be fine on his own, pips. We could just get started without him.” In Caleb’s mind, the less men there, the better.

Much to his chagrin, however, the fifth and final knock on the door of the night happened just as you were about to take your seat. You quickly stood, rushing to the door, leaving Caleb to mourn the loss of your warmth next to him.

The artist’s eyes focused on the Colonel, sharp, cold, and calculating now that his source of light had left for the door. “Eager, much?” He offered a charming smile that contrasted his eyes.

Violet eyes met his own. “What do you mean?”

The smile dropped, just slightly. “I understand a Colonel being territorial, but she isn’t yours.”

Sylus sighed. “As much as I hate to admit it, I agree.” He looked around at the men gathered around the coffee table, with a quick glance towards the final man still at the door. “As far as I can tell, we’re all protective over her. It’s not our place to dictate what she can or can’t do, no matter how we feel about it. This evening is clearly important to her, so I propose we all do our best to tolerate each other. At least so her night isn’t ruined.” Sylus leaned back in his chair.

Zayne nodded. “Nicely put. I will be polite so long as the rest of you are as well.” He observed each man, his gaze lingering on Caleb just a beat longer.

“Alright, alright,” Rafayel sighed. “I wouldn’t want to make her sad.”

Caleb scoffed. “How noble, Sylus. Telling us to play nice when you’re the one that’s been egging us on.”

“Surely you can understand sizing up a stranger, Colonel.” Sylus shrugged.

“Hello,” a soft voice broke through, “care to introduce me to everyone?”

The group looked up as you introduced Xavier, each man equally untrusting of his saccharine blue eyes. He moved to sit next to Sylus as you sat between Zayne and Rafayel.

You clapped your hands together. “So, are you guys ready to play?”

After mutual nods and agreements, Sylus began to lean forward. “I can shuffle the cards, if you’d like.”

“No!” You said, a little too fast. Laughing nervously, you picked up the deck of cards. “Zayne, why don’t you shuffle instead?”

He raised an eyebrow, but took the deck from your hands with no complaints. As he dealt the cards, the rest took the opportunity to stake their claims on the characters.

Sylus wordlessly took the red game piece, holding it tightly as he lounged back against his armchair.

“Wait. Did you just take Miss Scarlett?” Rafayel looked between Sylus and the board with widened eyes. Sylus only offered a nod. “No, no, no, no. I play Miss Scarlett. Not you. Me. Hand her over.” Rafayel held his hand out expectantly, bearing a striking resemblance to a petulant child.

Sylus hummed, pretending to turn the matter over. “No.”

Rafayel shot up out of his seat. “Why not? Why should it matter? Can’t you just let me have this?”

“Somethin’ tells me this is about more than a game piece,” Caleb chuckled.

“Oh, aren’t you one to talk!” Rafayel whirled on him. “Weren’t you just—”

“Raf, why don’t you just pick another character?” Your soft voice interrupted him, and all his fire was put out as he met your pleading eyes.

He sat down quietly, picking up Mrs Peacock. “Fine. I guess I don’t need to play as Miss Scarlett,” he grumbled.

Sylus remained silent, with only an amused smile on his face. Caleb reached forward, plucking Colonel Mustard from the table.

“I’m a Colonel, so I’ll play the Colonel,” he explained simply.

Zayne took Professor Plum. “I was not aware we were aiming for realism.”

Sylus barked out a laugh. “I can supply a dead body for realism,” his eyes landed on Caleb, “but then we’ll be down a player.”

Jolted awake from the ongoing shenanigans, Xavier glanced up around the group, silently grabbing Mrs White before sinking back into the couch with Bunbun held close to his chest.

Caleb met Sylus’s taunting look with his own hard gaze. “You do realize that if we’re keeping with realism, it implies that you’d be a prostitute?”

When met with silence, a triumphant smile made its way onto Caleb’s face, only to be washed away with Sylus’s noncommittal shrug. “I could do it.”

You shook your head as Caleb scoffed. “Let’s just fill in the notes from our cards,” you sighed, taking the remaining Mr Green into your hand.

Silence filled the room with only the rustling of paper and scratching of pencils.

“Sylus,” Zayne’s calculated voice suddenly broke through the silence. “Stop looking at Xavier’s cards while he’s practically falling asleep.”

Sylus smirked. “So attentive, doctor.”

Zayne was the one to sigh again, rubbing his temples as if he were already tired of this group. “Xavier, switch places with Caleb.”

Both men listened to the doctor and wordlessly switched positions.

Finally, the group settled into a comfortable rhythm as the game progressed.

You smiled to yourself as you noticed each of their guards lowering throughout the evening. The conversation became easy, banter filling the silence.

Nearly a half hour later, tension, albeit playful, filled the room as Sylus took his turn, guessing, “Mrs Peacock with the knife in the ballroom.”

For the second time that evening, Rafayel shot up out of his seat. “You think it’s me? You’ve barely even written anything down!” He motioned wildly as his voice rose in pitch. “Now you’re accusing me? Why don’t you trust me?”

Sylus ignored him as he asked each person if they could tell him he was wrong, only to be met with no’s all across the board. Not that he was surprised, of course.

He smugly picked up the ‘confidential’ file from the center of the board, pulling each card out with a flourish.

Mrs Peacock.

Knife.

Ballroom.

Rafayel shrieked, moving to the corner to hug his knees to his chest.

Caleb tossed his cards down on the table. “Damn! I was so close, I just didn’t have the room.”

“I was going to guess that on my next turn,” Zayne said.

Xavier rubbed his eyes, nearly falling asleep again when he realized it wasn’t his turn. “Oh…” he said softly. “The game’s over?”

After the outrage died down, and a few more playful (or what you wanted to believe was playful) jabs were made, the men filtered out of your apartment. United only by their truce to behave for you, they’d managed to get along without any bloodshed.

Sylus was the final one to leave, lingering in the doorway as the two of you made idle chatter.

“See? The night has ended and you aren’t left to clean any blood from your carpet.” He smirked down at you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered. “You kept your promise. Don’t think I didn’t notice you purposefully annoying each of them, though.” You narrowed your eyes.

His smile grew fond. “Well, it seems you’ve caught me,” he said softly. “Perhaps we could do this again. The evening was… tolerable.”

Your eyes light up. “So you did enjoy yourself!”

Sylus glanced away from you, avoiding eye contact. “I dislike the Colonel. The doctor was nice. The hunter and the artist were a bit unusual, but tolerable nonetheless,” he said swiftly. He looked into your eyes again, curiously flitting through them. “One question, sweetie. Why the plushies?”

“Just an experiment.” You waved a hand. “I just wanted to see something.”

Sylus raised an eyebrow. “Did we satisfy your curiosity?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “You all picked the ones I thought you would. It makes sense, really.”

He chuckled. “Are you implying I bear a resemblance to Grumpy Crow?”

You cocked your head. “Are you really trying to see you don’t?”

Sylus paused for a moment, contemplating. “Touché.” An alert on his phone brought you both out of your banter. Checking it, he sighed. “Sorry, kitten. Looks like I’ve got a meeting to get to. See you later.” He gave a brief wave goodbye as he ducked out the door.

“Bye, Sy,” you said, shutting the door behind him. Though your relief for the end of the night was tangible, it really wasn’t so bad.

Maybe another game night wasn’t a bad idea.

comments and reblogs appreciated! <3

masterlist

[exasperatedfey]

Medieval May Reading Bingo

Happy May! To celebrate I've decided to create a reading challenge where I read medieval texts in May. Full disclosure, this is inspired by another reading challenge on storygraph with a similar name posted by a user called maryshelleywasright. That challenge wasn't long enough for me so I made this!

Absolutely no pressure to join me but I thought it would be fun to open up the challenge to a wider pool of people (especially my Arthuriana mutuals @gwalch-mei and @mordred-galahad). To anyone wondering where the hell to find texts for these prompts your local library might have some! I would also be remiss in not mentioning @queer-ragnelle who runs the Arthurian Preservation Project on her blog. They've done so much work in making Arthurian media of all kinds accessible! If you'd like to post about this challenge you can use the #medievalmay tag.

While I will be reading mostly arthurian texts to prepare for another reading challenge I'm thinking of putting together for August, that doesn't have to be the case for you. The only criteria is that it has to be a text written from 900 CE to 1500 CE. It can be from literally anywhere in the world as long as it fits a bingo prompt. Go nuts lol.

Would Be Cancelled on Ye Olde Twitter - Read a medieval text where the protagonist would absolutely be cancelled on Twitter. Up to you to interpret whether the character's actual personality would get them cancelled if you put a phone in their hands or if they would get cancelled if their story started trending in modern day. Whatever you think is funnier.

God Forbid Women Have Hobbies - Read a medieval text where a woman is the main antagonist. The more evil she is the better.

You Probably Could Fix This One TBH - Read a medieval text where you probably could fix the main character. How much of a fixer-upper they would be is up to you, as long as you can make a case for why/how you could pull it off.

Oh No! My Hubris - Read a medieval text where the main character's hubris comes back to bite them on the ass in a big way.

Reading This Will Make You Fun at Parties, We Promise - Read a medieval text that will be a real conversation starter at parties.

You Can't Fix This Loser But You Can Watch Their Life Implode - Read a medieval text where the main character is completely unfixable. Where they are on the scale from "kind of a mess" to "so much of a human trash fire that mere proximity to them would cause popcorn kernels to pop" is up to you.

No Maidens? - Read a medieval text where the protagonist fumbles a love interest in a spectacular fashion. They can win them back but the initial fumbling must happen.

Surprisingly Cool About A Lot of Stuff - Read a medieval text that's cool about things you wouldn't expect for the time period. Specifically race or gender, but it can apply to other topics as well. "Cool" doesn't equate "Perfect" so the text doesn't have to pass modern day standards, an effort just needs to have been made.

Some Freak Ruins Everything - Read a medieval text where the good vibes have been ruined by some weirdo ruining things. The main character can be cleaning up this mess and not the one who caused it. It can happen off screen or prior to the story, as long as some freak somewhere has decided to be a problem the prompt applies.

An Accurate Adaptation Would be Rated R - Read a medieval text with a bananas amount of violence.

Special Guest Star: Blorbo From My Shows! - Read a medieval text that's inspired a piece of more modern media you are already familiar with.

A Is For Adultery - Read a medieval text where one of the main characters commits adultery.

FREE - Real literally any medieval text you want.

(To the Tune of Who's That Girl) Who's That Knight? - Read a medieval text where the main character has a mystery surrounding their past or identity. The main character doesn't actually have to be a knight, I just thought the prompt name was funny when I thought of it at work.

Cell Phones Would Have Made This Worse - Read a medieval text where the characters having cell phones would have made the situation much worse.

The Eternally Burning Fires of Guilt (And Shame!) - Read a medieval text where guilt and shame are major themes. You can also pick something that you feel guilty about not having read yet. This prompt is very flexible!

Born Too Early To Go To Therapy, But Just In Time To Go On Quests - Read a medieval text where the main character would really benefit from some therapy, but unfortunately they live during medieval times. Epic quests aren't a replacement but they're better than nothing.

Somewhere That Isn't Europe - Read a medieval text that has as little to do with Europe as possible. After all, other places had literary traditions. It isn't fair that Europe hogs the spotlight 24/7.

Some Freak Fixes Everything Somehow - Read a medieval text where the problem is solved by some freak. Said freak doesn't have to be the main character and the fixing can happen off-page.

Not-So Medieval Gender Roles - Read a medieval text that fucks with gender roles of the time. How much and in what ways is up to you.

The Author's Poorly Disguised Fetish: Medieval Edition - Read a medieval text where you get the sense the writer was transcribing it one-handed at certain moments.

Turbo-Doomed By The Narrative - Read a medieval text where the protagonist might as well have a giant neon sign over their head that says "THEY'RE FUCKED".

And They Were Comrades in Arms (My Lord They Were Comrades in Arms) - Read a medieval text known for it's homoeroticism.

Cell Phones Would Have Fixed This - Read a medieval text where cell phones would have resolved the center conflict pretty quickly or prevented some horrible tragedy.

Hey Kid, Ya Like Proving Yourself? - Read a medieval text where the protagonist is the new kid on the block and has to prove themselves with a great deed or two.

[peejay-docs]

After Dark

[1 - Caffeine and Chaos]

A Daredevil x Vigilante!OC series

Trigger warnings: 18+ ; mentions of violence, swear words

Word count: 2.6k

Prompt:

#9 - "Close your eyes, you don't need to see this."

Author's note:

This is my first tumblr post, and official entry for @bellaxgiornata's 4k Follower Celebration Writing Challenge! It has been quite a while–and I mean YEARS–since I last wrote anything close to this. This concept was already in my mind for a while and when I saw the writing challenge, I figured what the hell, let's do it. As mentioned, this is an OC one-shot but feel free to imagine yourself as the OC in this series. This is also my first experience writing action sequences, so please be gentle.

Huge thank you to @sleepyflorian for helping me edit and proof-read my work. I can't thank you enough ❤️

Might also continue this and turn it into a series 👀. Anyway, I hope ya'll enjoy.

Update: It is a now a series. I repeat. It is now a SERIES! I just made a Masterlist, which you can find by clicking on the hyperlink provided, or you can find it in my page. Hope that you'll join me on this journey. Man, i'm excited!

•••••••••••••

"Hi, what can I get you?" I ask the customer in front of me with a tight-lipped smile, itching to finally get off of work and be rid of the scent of roasted beans that will probably stick with me even after I leave the shop. Before the man in the overcoat could tell me their order, I felt a light tap on my shoulder by a recently hired barista, asking for assistance about the steamer. With no hesitation, I immediately had someone else to take over for me and went to help out the rookie.

As I counted down the minutes until my shift was over, the blend of soft indie music, the gentle hiss of steam, and the clatter of porcelain echoing through the place—mixed with the scent of roasted beans—was already making me sick to my stomach. Again, I continued showing her the ropes and how the steamer worked, making sure she was paying close attention. I took a quick glance at her pinned name tag.

“You got it, Mal?” I asked reassuringly.

She smiled and gave an enthusiastic nod. Watching her, I was suddenly reminded of when I was in her shoes—starting out behind the counter. I began working at the shop two years ago, right after moving to Hell’s Kitchen looking to start anew.

My mentor at the time was harsh with me and would throw insults whenever they could. Sure, I could’ve just punched the daylights out of that person with no problem, but that wouldn't exactly help me achieve the somewhat 'normal' life I wanted for myself. I wished I had been treated the way I treated Mal back when I was just starting–but unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Now that I am assistant manager, I made it a point to be kind and patient with the trainees, not wanting them to feel the way I did back then.

Once again, I was tapped on the shoulder—this time by Kyle, a colleague-turned-friend who started working here about a year ago—signaling that a drink was ready to be handed to a customer. With a long sigh, I smiled at Kyle and made my way to the counter, ready to hand it over to whomever ordered the drink.

"One white chocolate mocha for..." I raised the cup to eye-level, squinting at the name scribbled on the to-go cup. "Froggy?" I said, my voice laced with confusion. Rolling my eyes, I let out a quiet huff. I swear, some of the baristas here write names wrong on purpose just to mess with me.

Just then, a faint laugh echoed from a corner of the shop and I turned toward the sound and spotted a familiar blonde woman grinning widely at a man grimacing—probably her friend. I see them here often, always stopping by for their daily coffee. There were usually three of them and only now did I realize that their other friend—whom I've always thought to be intriguing—was not with them. They’ve certainly come to the café enough to be deemed regulars. I took note of the other one's absence, which I found just now to be more significant than I'd ought it would be.

"I think that's you." The pretty blonde woman teased.

Begrudgingly, the pale-skinned man walked over to collect his drink. Once he was close enough he said "It's Foggy, actually."

“This isn’t one of our finest moments,” you admit. “And probably not our last." I say with threatening eyes directed toward the crew behind me in search of the culprit, only to be met with their collective, muffled laughter.

"Ah, it's alright, I guess." He says lightly. "As long as the coffee’s good, it’s more than enough compensation." He reassures me with a kind smile. "Besides, as much as it kind of pains me to hear my name mispronounced, I can't deny that I'm also curious to see what you guys come up with every time I come here."

I let out a soft chuckle at his comment before he thanked me and left the shop with the blonde woman.

Turning towards Kyle who was making another drink, I caught his eye—and as if he could feel my gaze, he shot me a knowing look, brows raised.

"That's my last one for today." I expressed through a tired breath. He chuckled with a shaking head as I turned and headed toward the back of the shop.

I swiftly untied the knot holding my apron together, and lifted it over my head. Opening my designated locker, I grabbed my backpack and replaced it with the apron I just worn. Then I aimed for the backdoor of the shop, pushing it open. As I was about to step outside, Kyle called out to me and said his goodbye.

After hours of making and serving caffeinated beverages, I was finally free and out walking through the busy streets of Hell's Kitchen, mentally preparing for another night of patrolling. Last night had been smooth, to say the least. I stopped a mugging, two pickpockets, and even retrieved a stolen bike from a teenager who clearly had nothing better to do with his life. It was one of the more peaceful nights around here, but nonetheless, I was glad to be of help—no matter how small the impact might seem.

My apartment was just a few blocks away from the coffee shop, and my main goal at the moment was simple: get home, change into my suit, and stop crime where I could. Even though I trusted the people back at the café, I still kept my suit and gadgets at home, not wanting to risk someone invading my privacy and snooping through my things only to discover that I'm actually a certain vigilante roaming the streets at night.

Occasionally, I’d end up in the papers—usually after stopping a major crime, like the time I prevented a jewellery store robbery.. But I don't do it for the glory or fame. And to be honest, even if I did, I still get nothing out of it, not with my strong conviction to keep my identity a secret.

As I rounded a corner, just a few meters ahead, I spotted five men in jumpsuits cornering a man clutching his bag for dear life, right outside some establishment.

"Ugh, I'm not really dressed appropriately for this." I mutter to myself looking down at my jeans and sneakers, mustering the courage to interrupt them.

"Hey!" I shout toward the group of men. All five of them—and the defenseless man—turn to face me at once. "Leave that man alone."

"This ain't any of your business, missy." The bulkiest of the bunch spoke menacingly, his voice low and threatening. "Get lost."

I sigh in disappointment. "I should've seen that coming." I mutter under my breath. Then, raising my voice again, "Look buddy," Staring straight into him. “I really don't want any trouble, Just please don't hurt the guy."

He laughs at my attempt at bravery, urging his jumpsuited friends to laugh with him. "And what makes you think I will do whatever you tell me to?" He snarls.

"Honestly, I don't.” shifting my weight from one leg to the other.“But I was hoping you would since it would probably be best for all of us." I shrug. “Most especially you.”

"Little lady,"

A chill ran down my spine—and not the good kind—as I heard his nickname that he’s clearly made up for me. He starts walking closer, with each step of his growing heavier and more deliberate.

"Why don't you go on your way and let us finish our business?"

I sigh, "I didn't want to do this." I said while shaking my head in disapproval.

"Do what, exactly?" He smirked, completely unthreatened by my words.

Unfortunately for both of us, my patience doesn’t run very far—so I took it as a challenge.

Without another word, I swing my right leg up, my foot merging with his jaw. He crashes to the ground with a thud, grunting in pain.

His friends glare at me, eyes wide, fists clenched—I could practically see steam flowing out of their ears and noses.

That was my cue to run.

As I sprint down the street, I hear his voice yelling behind me, faint but furious, "Get her!"

With urgency, I passed through the crowd in Hell's Kitchen—doing my best not to bump into anyone—and shouting a quick, genuine "Sorry!” to those I couldn't. The sky was growing darker so the bright green glow of the stoplight up ahead immediately caught my eye. That’s when I quickly conjured up a plan to shake them off.

I pick up speed, ignoring the ache in my legs from all the sprinting. Patrolling at night was one thing—but this? Running away from trouble? That wasn’t my usual style.

Without looking back, I dashed across the crosswalk, dodging people as best I could, Escaping them was proving harder than I thought.

As I neared the other side of the road, the light turned yellow, giving me only just a few seconds to execute my spontaneous plan. I took it as a sign and pushed myself to run faster.

By the time the light turned red, I had already crossed. Behind me, the intersection exploded with the chaotic roar of engines and angry car horns. Still I forced myself to calm down—just enough to steady my breathing. Hands on my knees, I fought through the burning sensation in my legs which were intensifying by the minute.

This was already too much for one night.

And yet... It only reminded me why I do what I do.

I glanced behind me with hopes of finally losing my tail—only to feel that hope evaporate. They were still coming. Determined. Reckless. They darted across the road, dodging cars and buses, ignoring every traffic law in the book.

"Oh, come on." I mutter, breath hitching as I keep sprinting down the sidewalk.. I turn a sharp corner—only to find myself in a dark, dead-end alley.

"Shit." I cursed under my breath.

I spin around, desperate to make a run for it, hoping they still haven't caught up. But the sky has now turned nearly black, and the shadows aren’t doing me any favors.

Then I see them.

They’re just a few meters from me, the bulky one trails close behind, pushing through the group like a tank.

My heart slams against my chest, adrenaline buzzing through every vein.

At this point, there's no way out.

No more running.

I clench my fists, steady my breath, and brace myself.

I have no choice now—I have to fight.

And without my suit, this is going to be a whole new problem.

"Hey boys," a voice called from somewhere above the alley.

All of us—including me—looked up, scanning for the source.

There, standing atop the building behind me, was a dark figure looking over us.

"You can do better than ganging up on a girl." The figure taunted, his low-pitched voice carrying a smug edge.

"Daredevil." I whispered in realization.

It was the vigilante, in the flesh.

He casually leaps off the building, using his baton’s grappling hook to land smoothly a few feet in front of me. He stood tall, planting himself between me and the men, his stance protective—broad shoulders blocking their view of me completely.

"Tell you what," says the man in the red suit, "I'm gonna let you off easy if you just leave her alone. How about that?" He negotiates.

In reaction to what he just said, one of the men laughed mockingly—but his expression hardened in an instant as he lunged forward with a punch towards Daredevil.

The vigilante swiftly dodged to the left, grabbed the assailant's arm then yanked him down to his knee, slamming hard into his gut. The man bent over as he grunted in with a pained grunt.

The men looked at him with anger, ready to retaliate..

"Close your eyes. You don't need to see this." He told me.

I remain standing, now even more unsure of what to do with this situation I put myself in.

Seconds later, he's already in full brawl mode with thuds and grunts echoing through the alley as he took on three at once with surgical precision.

The remaining two—including the bulky one—were eyeing me as they smugly approached, ignoring his group taking a beating from the vigilante.

Big mistake.

As soon as they were close enough, I sprang forward. Then, with one fluid leap I vault off the wall beside me, with my foot landing on one guy's jaw, sending him sprawling. The bulky one lunged at me but I twisted, caught his arm mid-swing and I drove my elbow into his throat. He let out a wet cough and collapsed in a heap.

When I looked up, Daredevil already got two guys on the ground, dealing one last big swing, making his final opponent drop unconscious.He turns to look at me, still in his fighting stance, only for his body to relax the moment he notices how quiet it had gotten and the bodies scattered around me.

"You alright?" He asks in-between breaths.

"Yeah," you exhale, "I'm fine."

"Did you do that?" He asks, nodding towards the unconscious men at my feet.

"I think so," I joked. "I mean, who else could've done that?" I shrugged, aiming to seem casual though I instantly worried it came off arrogant.

But he chuckled anyway.

"I'm sorry.” I quickly added, “I meant to say yes."

His head tilted slightly, as if analyzing me. I couldn't really tell the expression on his face through the mask. But the way he was looking made me little self-conscious.

“How’d you do that?" He asks, curiosity threading in his voice.

Panic flickered in my chest as I scrambled for an answer without giving anything away.

"I -uh," I stammered. "I took some classes." I answered, which was technically true, but probably not in the way he would imagine.

His lips curled into a smirk. "That's some class."

I let out a breath of a laugh in response.

"I better head home." I said, urgency creeping back into my voice. The whole encounter had reminded me—clearly, I still had work to do. Not that I blame him. He was just one person against an endless city of crime.

"Of course." He says as if coming to his senses. "And you'll be okay?" Asking with a softness in his voice, almost sounding like care.

"Yes, and um..." I respond, trailing off. "Thank you."

He dipped his head in a quiet nod, and then raised his grappling hook. My eyes followed his figure as he ascended effortlessly, vanishing onto the rooftops—probably off to save someone's day again.

With determination, I started walking towards my apartment with renewed urgency. My mind drifted off to the possibility of a new threat unfolding while I was still out of my suit. The thought unsettled me.

I need to get home.

And get out there—now.

I jogged along the same path where the goons had chased me earlier, with deja vu settling in with every step. Then my mind trailed off to the man I helped get away from the men in the jumpsuits. I certainly hope he found his way home safely.

As my apartment building came into view, I couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. I stopped for a moment and turned, scanning the street behind me. People moved about, immersed in their own lives—laughing, talking, rushing in and out of nearby shops. Everything seemed normal.

But I felt it—eyes on me.

Watching.

Studying.

I searched the crowd, narrowing my eyes as I looked at every corner, every shadowed doorway, waiting for something��or someone—to stand out. Nothing did.

After a minute of fruitless searching, I shook my head. Probably just the aftershock of the night’s events. Adrenaline messes with your instincts sometimes.

Still uneasy, I pulled my keys from my bag and pushed open the door to my building, trying to brace myself for whatever the rest of the night had in store.

[venusbyline]

Newborn — Lucerys Velaryon.

— summary: Lucerys never filled his cousin-wife’s cunt with his cum, and you always drank moon tea after having sex with your brother-husband. Lucerys had kept his promise to never get Rhaena pregnant, and you also had kept your promise to never let Jacaerys get you pregnant.

— pairing: Lucerys Velaryon x older sister!reader

— type: fluff

— tags/warnings: female!reader, aged-up!Lucerys Velaryon, Targcest (younger brother/older sister), secret relationship, forbidden love, infidelity, post-childbirth, implied breeding kink, past underage sex (Lucerys was 16 when he lost his virginity and reader was 20, but now Lucerys is 21 and reader is 25), dry humping mentioned, oral sex mentioned, handjob mentioned, fingering mentioned, loss of virginity mentioned, forced marriage, minor Jacaerys Velaryon/reader, minor Lucerys Velaryon/Rhaena Targaryen, mention of cousin incest, open ending, canon divergence (No Dance of the Dragons/War for Succession). no use of y/n, english is not my first language.

— author's notes: This one-shot is based on an anon ask that I received and it's inspired by one of my horny thoughts too. ❤️❤️

— high valyrian words used: Mandia (older sister), Ñuha jorrāeliarzy (my beloved).

❥ Lucerys masterlist • HOTD masterlist • Horny Thoughts

❥ about me • main masterlist

Lucerys waited near the garden, sitting on a wooden bench and admiring the flowers that had been decorating the lawn due to the arrival of spring. The young prince took a deep breath, counting to one hundred over and over again since he got there.

The garden reminded him of his older sister, always lying down with him under a tree to study High Valyrian, always saying that the fresh air would make the two of you concentrate much more than the cold and dull walls of the library.

Most of the time, you always ended up fucking on the floor, devouring each other's lips as if you were still two young people with hormones raging.

It had been during one of these typical nights of studying that you had taken Lucerys' virginity, two moons after you became Jacaerys' wife. Rhaenyra had explained that the moment a woman marries, she should not spend too much time alone with any man other than her husband, much less without the supervision of guards or servants. Even if you were a princess and her heir, even if that other man in question was just your little brother.

Obviously, you did not care about your mother's lectures or about Lucerys' initial hesitation, all it took was a few purred words and naughty touches for the innocent boy to surrender a little more to your charms.

That night, you, at twenty, claimed your sixteen-year-old brother just as you claimed Silverwing seven years before. You claimed a dragon that would soon belong to someone else.

To your cousin, Rhaena.

Her engagement to Lucerys had been revealed a week after your wedding ceremony with your brother Jacaerys. Rhaena had not wanted that, and neither had Lucerys.

The Velaryon prince had sworn off his destiny as Corlys Velaryon’s heir and left the titles to Joffrey. He did not want to succeed his grandfather as the next Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark… He wanted to stay in King’s Landing forever, following your every move, never leaving his dear older sister.

Then Lucerys allowed you to take his virginity before Rhaena had the chance to do that.

You had not gotten pregnant with Jacaerys in the first moons since you were married. Your womb was empty when you felt Lucerys' cock inside you for the first time, so fucking better than the times you spent hidden away, just rubbing against each other's body or just using your mouths and hands to give and receive pleasure.

Your womb was empty until Lucerys' seed took hold.

However, five years passed and Luke needed to stay away from the doors for a while, once again waiting for his older brother to emerge from your chambers after one more successful childbirth.

"He is so perfect..." Lucerys smiled softly, caressing the newborn's little face white you lay in bed, trying to recover yourself from the stress endured during the childbirth, from those hours that seemed to never pass and from that pain that increased with each contraction. "I am so proud of you, Mandia. You did a good job."

"You mean both of us, Ñuha jorrāeliarzy." Your words made Luke's heart clench and melt at the same time.

He knew very well what you meant.

The newborn was still too young for Lucerys be able to distinguish the features properly, but deep down he knew that the little boy was his son. Just like all your other children.

The twins girls who were the firstborns, the boy who was born a few days after his sisters' second name day... And now the new baby boy too.

All of them looked too much like Lucerys, enough so that the Court whispered about the kids being his children and not of your brother-husband Jacaerys. Enough so that your mother, the Queen, felt disappointed every time Rhaena told her that Lucerys always refused to spill his seed inside her since the consummation of their marriage. Enough so that Jacaerys refused to ask the truth, because deep down he already knew it, choosing to live without the harsh reality.

Lucerys never filled his cousin-wife’s cunt with his cum, and you always drank moon tea after having sex with your brother-husband.

Lucerys had kept his promise to never get Rhaena pregnant, and you also had kept your promise to never let Jacaerys get you pregnant.

[the-volume-is-astronomical]

How would you feel if I walked up to you and ripped your heart out?

a/n: its been so long since I've written, welcome to my new obsession! the title comes from the song Losing You by boy Pablo :] enjoyyyy (THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS!!!)

Tags: (can be read as pre or during) Sam/Bucky, missing post credit scene, they be arguing, a few characters get mentioned but it’s only the boys

The amount of disdain in Sam’s voice was a complete rarity nowadays but unmistakable through the phone.  

“Is this really how I find out about this new team of yours?”, whispered in a wounded-anger, the worse kind to be directed your way. 

“Sam, augh, Valentina just--”, the exasperate tone was dismissive and definitely not the way to go, but Bucky was tired, 106 years old, and grumpiness came naturally with those two things. 

“Oh do not. Get me started on you working for ‘rebrander of the U.S. Agent’ Fontaine. I got intel from Everett Ross-- do you even know anything about this woman?!”, as he sorted his thoughts into words, the frustration naturally escalated as more reasons to be mad at Bucky popped into his brain. 

“Okay. I know this looks…pretty horrible.”, adjusting to whatever situation comes his way is something Bucky does everyday on the field, so taking a hard left to placate his Cap was par for the course. 

“‘Looks pretty horrible’? I talked to you while Joaquin was in critical condition, to air out everything I had been dealing with because you fucking encouraged me to. The mantle Steve left behind, reconsidering the serum, and the weight on my shoulders because the president wanted me to rebuild the Avengers-- only for you to go and announce the ‘New Avengers’ months later!” 

All energy quickly left Sam, leaving a breathless, “Buck, what did you want me to think?”, behind.

“...I-I’m sorry. Fuck, this does look bad”, taking a small reprive to gather his thoughts by rubbing his eyes. “We were trying to get Valentina arrested. She went behind the curtain-- we didn’t think she was going to have an entire press circut ready!”, who knew sounding innocent, when you are, could be this hard. He's usually guilty of whatever he’s accused, so this is a new experience. 

“She announced us as the new team…Yelena seemed to have a plan because she whispered to her, something like ‘you owe us your life’, knowing her.”

Sam stayed silent for a moment. 

Bucky never feared silence, he still didn’t, but he was not used to wanting to fill it when he was with Sam. It was either comfortable or the other would fill the quiet with the start of some long winded banter. 

“You didnt know the team…was being formed…or that you were in it?”, Sam was cautious with his words, still wary that he will get an answer that will fracture the closest relationship he's allowed himself in years. 

“Of course not, Sam. I would have fucking told you!”, he meant it. Sam respected honesty and earning Sam’s approval had become a constant nagging in the back of his mind for some time. “We’ve been through it together…I- wouldn’t want you to not tell me shit because of a random impeachment case I wanted to get recognition for.” 

“Fine. You didn’t know but why wouldn’t you just… say as much? Tell the press she was full of shit and have her on her way.”, the anger was still there but temporarily brough to a simmer. 

“We thought there could be something to get from this. A new Avenger’s team is in order and they all want recognition, a life of a hero instead of a criminal.”,

“But that’s my responsibility now--”, there was a frustration of when someone has completely missed the point, when you think they’ve finally understood, and they say something to disprove that. 

“Yes but--I’ve been there before…I know how it feels. To go from a Hydra tool to celebrated after Thanos? I couldn’t deny that to anyone else.”, theres been enough conversation similar to this one, Bucky always backed out before getting too close or deep to the truth of what he feels. 

That anger Sam started the conversation with, the hurt, actually made him hesitate. He could still lose him, by being an idiot and not communicating, not explaining what was going in the frozen recesses of his mind. 

That's not an option. 

“Sam, maybe that’s what I was searching for…with this whole campaign for congress”

“D-did you not think I would have you on the team?”, voice a whisper to not allow it to crack, not now. 

“I’m sure you would've. It’s just…in this team, we all have a past, yet we get presented as the ‘New Avengers’. Could you imagine that back then?”, something he could’ve never dreamt of, accomplished. 

“There’s a lot of ‘we’ talk considering the whole lone White Wolf reputation. What bonding could I have missed?”, it was bitter, and ugly, but the anger had caught up to Sam. He was a righteous man, not a saint. 

Bucky, had to deescalate. If the shield fiasco didn’t strain his relationship with Sam, this could still work out.

“Have you heard of trauma bonding? The Void is one nasty power.”, jokes and banter. That’s who they were.

“Why is he on your team? Sentry was unstable and it led to New York being turned into a void, no light, or people, while those inside suffered reliving their worse memories.”, it was worry that drive the accusation. Of course for the general population but mainly Bucky. 

There are so many memories from the Winter Soldier and before then he could be forced to relive. An entire eternity trapped in the Void and he probably wouldn’t run out of memories, literally having more that one lifetime of memories. 

“His name is Bob, pretty pleasant kid. He’s just gone through a lot.”, there was an attempt to make the words sound nicer than he meant them to be but he probably failed. 

“Well that, kid, is dangerous. We should be preventing something like this from happening. Not babying the temporary mass murderer.”, in Sam’s eyes it was so easy to see. They needed a reliable team that could serve and protect. Having someone with such limitless power and trauma packed into one human body hadn’t gone well in the past. 

“Well, Sam. I actually am a serial mass murderer. What are you suggesting be done with me?!”, he couldnt hold back the rage any longer. That boy had been through enough and he wasn’t going to allow any other injustice against him, no matter how well intentioned. 

“That’s not the same.”, it was Sam’s turn to tread carefully. This was sensitive territory and he would never want to distress Bucky, not after all the work he had done. 

“How is it not the same?!”, so much fury behind it.

“Bucky, do you not remember Wanda? I got to know her when we were on the run, she had her demons but she tried, kept them at bay with a support system. In one fell swoop it was all gone. She couldn't handle it. No one would expect her to! But she kidnapped a town, dead to the rest of the world, making them have her nightmares. Sound familiar yet?!”, there was no way Bucky wasn’t understanding what he was trying to get at, it felt purposeful. 

“We can get him a therapist! He has us! Yelena promised to basically never let him out of her sight--”, Bob wasn’t unfixable, wasnt unlovable. He was a much better person than Bucky, his darkest thoughts literally manifested into a supervillain. How could Sam blame him for that?

“Were you not listening to me?! Wanda had all of that. Yet she’s still fucking dead. Went insane trying to get back her dead husband and children that never existed. It can all just---”

“Tell me what would you suggest to keep him in check then?”, there was still the slightest effort to calm down, barely noticeable due to the amount of seethe within him. 

“I was suggesting it could be better to provide him a facility where he could learn to control his powers--”

“Oh, yeah? Sure! Get him to a facility where they can experiment on him. Oh wait! That’s exactly what happened and one of the most disturbing things he’s experienced.”, it was complete irritation and pettiness exuding from Bucky in waves. 

“I know. But maybe that’s the only way to get him to anything near normal after everything he’s gone through. Some intense therapy or a neurological breakthrough that can get rid of The Void!”, Sam was being misunderstood again and this was a feeling he really didn’t enjoy, and he can’t say he’s had Bucky be the reason for it. Sure they aren’t the best talkers but they were good listeners. 

“Oh great idea, just brain wash him! You want some suggestions for the trigger words because I’ve got a few--” 

“I didn’t say that!” 

“Y-yeah, but it could easily turn into--”

“If you think I would ever say that… I don’t think you know me at all.”, Sam’s voice cracked at that last word. He knew it wasn’t true. Bucky knew him better than anyone else but in the moment he felt like they were strangers to each other. 

Bucky’s throat was so dry, he could barely breathe, or maybe he was breathing too much

“...Sam--” 

“This conversation obviously isn’t fruitful. We should find a different way to talk about this because this was a definite mistake--”, defaulting to impersonal language. It made the hurt a little less, frostbite numb. 

“Sam. Please--”, it was desperate, raw and vulnerable. Bucky layed on a table for display

“Goodbye, James.”

Once again, silence. From the one person he could hear talk for the rest of his days.

[lies-unfurl]

On Thunderbolts*

I honestly don't know how to rate this. I feel like if I was a casual fan, it would be a solid 8/10, but obviously I'm not that. It was a tight story that cohered well and had some strong character dynamics. It also had issues, particularly with regards to how it related to the larger MCU, that I have a lot of thoughts on.

What I liked:

Yelena. Just in general.

More specifically, the way Yelena's depression was portrayed resonated with me a lot, mostly in ways that I don't feel like discussing in a movie review on tumblr dot com.

I honestly don't know how anyone could watch this and come away thinking John did nothing wrong, lol. Props to Wyatt Russell for playing him so unlikable.

I generally enjoyed the character dynamics. The scene in the back of the truck where Yelena and Ava were making fun of John's guns worked really well.

Overall, besides literally the last minute before the credits, the story felt like it was put together well. The pacing worked and events flowed in a way that made sense.

I liked Val as a villain, though I wish we'd get more of her motivations.

The scenes inside the Void were really cool. The second one with Yelena and her younger self was one of my favorites in the whole movie.

I obviously want Bucky to survive Doomsday, but if he goes out, at least he's got a banging costume and hairstyle for it.

What I want to be a hater about:

I have mixed feelings on Bucky's role in this. I think it makes sense for him to be in a more stable place than the rest of the group. My overall issue is that we're given no info whatsoever on how he went from TFATWS to where he is now. With Yelena, I can easily see how her character moves from Hawkeye, where we saw her last, to now. Ava, idk, sure, it's not explained how she ended up working for Val, but I can see how Val would take advantage of someone who has her abilities and probably not a lot of other job prospects. But Bucky? There's just nothing to foreshadow him going into politics in TFATWS. If the end of TFATWS sets up anything, it's him and Sam working together in the future. So how did we get here? Like, I do genuinely think it's kind of funny that the MCU didn't even try to explain things, but it's also bad writing. And yeah, I do wish we'd gotten more of Bucky. idk. It's an ensemble film, but they could have inserted a Void sequence for him without fucking up the flow too bad. Also, he just looks so unhappy for most of the movie, and I want to know why! Just the circumstances? The fact that he really hates politics? SebStan not enjoying himself? idk.

The pacing worked; the timeline didn't. How the fuck did Alexei get from NYC to Utah overnight in that limo. (Bucky maybe flew himself and his motorcycle in, but Alexei obviously didn't.)

I don't like Alexei in general. I feel like the movie missed a chance to reckon with his responsibility for what the Widows went through by just treating him as either comic relief or a supportive father for Yelena.

It was also a little weird that no one mentioned Melina?

I'm ambivalent about Taskmaster's death. I'm not that mad about it, but part of me feels like it was done mainly to appease the fanboys angry about her not being Tony Masters.

Bob was fine? idk, I didn't feel too strongly about him one way or another. I see some people in the tags blorbofying him, which isn't surprising, but... I just keep thinking about how he was supposed to be played by Steven Yeun. And I know Sentry was white in the comics, but sorry, it's a little weird to me that they replaced an Asian-American actor with a white guy. Val's whole thing with dyeing his hair blond would've hit much differently.

We should've gotten a Sam mention before the post-credits scene. It makes no sense for Val to say there are no superheroes around when Sam has been Captain America for years at this point, and he's been working for the government! When you pair that line with the implications of the hair dye, with apparently no one remembering that there are existing heroes who work for the government, it's... telling. And that's something that could've been brought to the forefront more by just having someone remember that Sam Wilson is Captain America.

I already wrote my thoughts on the post-credit scene, and they haven't really changed upon seeing the movie. That said, I do feel like the ending undermines the movie somewhat by falling into the same old trap where every MCU movie is an advertisement for the next movie. It just like... doesn't work? for Yelena to have the "We own you" line, and then the end credits and the PCS all confirm that actually, no one respects the New Avengers, so like... what's the point of them working with/for Val. And this will probably get expanded on somewhat in Doomsday and/or Secret Wars, but the casts for those movies are so bloated, I'm not sure how much consideration that element will get.

So, yeah. I don't know. I think it was a good movie on a technical level, but as a (reluctant) MCU fan, I don't know how much I enjoyed it. I feel like I can't form a full opinion because it ultimately doesn't feel like a movie that stands on its own; it's going to depend on how upcoming movies contextualize it.

[quiet-night-sky-writers-blog]

Saving hope

Pairing: Marc Spector x fem!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3.1k

Summary: a ghostly hope drags Marc out of a severe depression

Warnings: angsty angst, depression, self-destruction, alcohol and drug use, mentions of violence, injury and blood, suicide attempt; tiny mentions of masturbation (m) and sex; relatively happy ending, open finale

Author's note: the happenings in this story take place right after the events of the show. The only nuance is that Marc is still working with Khonshu. Layla, Steven and Jake (aka “the other one”) are mentioned, but this fic is totally Marc-centric. Despite the “x Reader” indication, there’s no pronoun “you” - there’s just a girl whose appearance is not described and whose name is not mentioned.

Of course, we all know that Khonshu is the god of the moon, but he’s also the god of time. So here I assume that he knows not only the past, but also the future. Tutu is the god of dreams, who protects sleepers from nightmares (originally considered the god of tombs).

Heartfelt thanks to my friends who supported me and encouraged me to post this fic. I'm still hesitant, but... yeah.

My mental health has taken a bit of a downturn lately, so partly I put my emotions into this story, not gonna lie. I'm sorry.

Below I tag those who have previously asked me to do it - but please don't feel obligated to read it. I realize that not everyone will want to read something like this.

- Were you ever going to tell me? - the indignation in Layla's voice is akin to the sea in a storm - it comes in furious waves over and over, threatening to sweep away everything in its path. She barely keeps herself under control, nails digging into her palms as she desperately clenches her fists, shaking faintly with resentment.

An attempt at talking had turned out to be a damn bad idea. After Cairo, after that inconceivable battle of humans and gods, they shouldn't have met again. Never. Their marriage had been far from perfect, always, even in the very beginning. Marc, although he'd tried, deep down always believed that this “happily ever after” thing was doomed. Because there was always a huge problem in their relationship, and that problem was he himself. At least, that's how he saw it. That's how he saw himself. A malignant tumor, poisoning the lives of people around him. A monster, incapable of anything but violence. When he'd left, and after a few months of living apart sent Layla the divorce papers - even then it had meant the end of everything. But when on their last mission his mental illness became no longer a secret, and, to top it all off, the circumstances of her father's death came to light - then the bridges between them hadn't just burned: they'd been blown up, destroyed, not a single stone left standing.

Marc keeps silent. He realizes what she's waiting for, what she wants to hear now. But he won't say it. He doesn't have the strength to lie anymore, and he doesn't see the point in it any longer. He wasn't going to tell her anything. On the contrary, he was determined to keep it hidden for as long as he could. He keeps silent, and already doesn't care what happens next. He's just tired, damn, he's so tired...

When he's finally left alone (FINALLY - he's almost glad for it, almost glad it's all over), he heavily sinks onto the couch and rubs his face with his palms. He's devastated, he's exhausted, and he's hurting. The latter genuinely surprises him. How is he still capable of feeling pain? After everything he's been through in his life? How has his heart not yet turned to lifeless cold stone, how has his soul not become so numb that it has lost the ability to feel anything at all?

Well, obviously, thinking that you're worthless, that you ruin everything you touch, and that you're the worst that ever happened in someone's life is one thing, but having the other person say it right to your face is another. It would seem he's used to it, and yet...

That night he drinks himself into a stupor.

Marc drinks. A lot.

One day, when Khonshu sends him to take down a local dealer, who is getting kids hooked on drugs, Marc takes a bag of pills from his place. He doesn't even know what those are, as he swallows them, empties another bottle and collapses on the couch. He's not sure what he's trying to accomplish - just dulling the pain, or intentionally going to the next world. Marc doesn't ponder this for too long - the poison in his system takes effect almost instantly, and his consciousness sinks into a gray, viscous fog. 

Waking up the next day after noon, he lies unmoving for some time, slowly regaining consciousness, and the only thought that looms somewhere in the back of his clouded mind is “why am I still not dead?”

He doesn't realize that Khonshu heals him without his knowledge. Over and over again, almost every night, after Marc passes out, thoroughly drugged on some crap. The old vulture can blabber anything, but the truth is that he has, to his own surprise, grown attached to his ward. He'd promised him once that he'd protect him as best he could - and so far he'd never broken that promise, protecting Marc from himself as well.

It's not easy at times, though. Marc starts getting into brawls on a regular basis, as if he doesn't get enough carnage on Khonshu's missions. It's not clear what he wants more - to beat someone up, or to get beaten up, because he fights without his white armor. Fights until there's not a single alive spot on his body. One day he almost dies, lying in an alley with a punctured lung and a shattered occiput, choking on his own blood and resisting Khonshu's help to the last. When he finally loses consciousness, the god practically pulls him out of the grave, healing his mortal wounds before it's too late.

Marc doesn't know what he lives for. He sees no meaning in his existence. He is all alone, there's not a single person who needs him, who even just cares about him. The world doesn't need him. He has no one and nothing but the old god and his service to him. Yes, he rids the world of bad guys, but after all, there are plenty of other people doing that besides him, so they can easily get by without him.

One rainy November evening he drives to his storage unit. After taking all his belongings from there, he throws them away on his way back. The apartment he's been living in for a year now is actually Steven's home, and Marc still feels like a guest in it. All that he and Layla have gained over the years of their marriage is not worth talking about. He kept all the little he owned in that cramped, dimly lit metal container. Hid it from his wife, from Steven. Just as he hid his very essence from the world.

And now, everything he had was going to the trash.

Everything except the gun, that now lies on the passenger seat, its polished metal casing gleaming in the light of the street lamps.

Marc doesn't understand why he's so scared. After all, he's died before. And those fields of reeds looked pretty nice... Though he might not get there again - who knows how things work there... But it probably can't be any worse than it is here, now.

And yet Marc is shaking. His hands are trembling so badly that they're almost disobedient. When he'd poisoned himself with alcohol or let himself be beaten to a pulp by a mob of thugs, he'd essentially accomplished the same thing - the only difference being that he still had a chance to survive. And a bullet to the head leaves no chances.

Khonshu's muttering without ceasing, but it's as if Marc doesn't hear a word he's saying. His mind is in fever, in agony, racing from one thought to another in a panic, but eventually returning again and again to the gun in his hand, heavy and cold.

“Come on, you cowardly piece of shit. Do at least one thing right in your life.”

The muzzle lodges against his temple, finger pressing the trigger.

Click.

A misfire.

Marc convulsively weeps. He collapses on his side on the bed, dropping the gun to the floor. A deafening gunshot sounds - and in the opposite wall there is now a hole from the bullet. Marc cries, and cries, and can't stop.

Finally, his consciousness gives out and shuts down, and he falls into darkness.

On Marc's chest lies a girl. They are both naked, he feels her warmth, the delicious softness of her skin. He catches her scent, mixed with the scent of sex. She has the most amazing eyes he's ever seen - looking at him with tenderness, she smiles at him. Marc gently tucks a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. The girl's smile grows even wider, she covers her eyes and slightly bends her head toward his hand, presses her cheek against his palm, and then kisses it.

Marc wakes up and for a long time can't realize what has happened. His head is heavy, cloudy, achy - as if he has a terrible hangover. Memories slowly float out of the fog: he was absolutely sober yesterday. He remembers why he was sober. Turns his head and sees a hole in the wall, around which cracks are scattered in different directions along the plaster. It was left by a bullet that was meant for him.

The shivers come over him again, so much so that his teeth begin to chatter. Turning away toward the window, he wraps his arms around his body and shakes his head from side to side, over and over, as if to say to himself: “No. No, no, nonono.” Squeezes tightly shut, and suddenly meets again the gaze of those incredible eyes.

“What the hell was that?” - perplexes Marc. This dream... it was so real. He often has vivid dreams. Mostly, of course, nightmares: sometimes scenes from his childhood, more often murder, torture, and blood, lots of blood, other's, and sometimes his own. But this... it wasn't even like a dream, more like a memory. So fresh and clear, as if it had all happened to him just a couple hours ago. And yet Marc is absolutely certain that he's never met this girl.    

He wonders - maybe this memory is not his. But he quickly dismisses that option: Steven is a virgin, and the other one, the one Marc knows nothing about, is able to shut out his alters, blocking them out, not letting them see or hear what's going on, so even if this girl was his, Marc wouldn't remember her.

Calming down little by little, Marc allows himself to return mentally into his dream. So sweet, so warm, so alluring. He feels his palm lazily stroking the curve of her lower back. Her soft skin faintly smells of vanilla and honey. Their legs intertwined under the blanket, between her thighs squeezed his own, he feels the hot wetness... “Fuuuck...” - he moans quietly, realizing that this is his cum - still in her, since they've just made love.

The blood rushes to his cock, it becomes hard and heavy. Marc doesn't want to fight this feeling, and he succumbs to the obsession, so real and unreal at the same time. The movements of his hand are abrupt, almost rough, he cums embarrassingly fast, hoarsely exhaling into the pillow.

She comes into Marc's dreams again. Again and again.

Each time the scenes that emerge in his mind are different, but they are like pieces of one big mosaic. She falls asleep in Marc's arms as he holds her, kissing her tenderly on the forehead. She welcomes him with a warm embrace when he comes home after another mission. They slowly dance at night in the kitchen to a Frank Sinatra song; this dream is especially memorable for Marc: he looks into her ravishing eyes, and his feelings for this girl overwhelm him. When he speaks, his voice sounds choked up: “I can't put into words how much I love you.” He wakes up and his heart thuds muffly in his chest. He loves her, really loves her. And somehow he knows she loves him too. How can she love him? He has never been loved by anyone.

In his dreams she treats his battered fists, kneeling in front of him. Comforts him after another nightmare. Moans his name as they make love. And always looks at him with her stunningly beautiful eyes as if to her he's the whole damn world.

At some point Marc gets used to this beautiful fantasy visiting him, sometimes once in a few weeks, sometimes almost every day. Once he gives up, he stops puzzling over who this girl is, where the image of her came from in his head. Probably, he decides, the night he tried to end his life, his brain created this soothing fantasy in which he could be happy. At least for a little while. At least in a dream.

- Are you sure we won't make things worse? - asks Tutu, - human consciousness is so fragile, and he's already broken.

- We are giving him hope, - Khonshu replies, - he needs it, otherwise he will ruin himself. I can't let that happen, - silent for a while, he adds, - after all, he only sees what awaits him ahead. This is his destiny.

Gradually, Marc actually does feel a little better; they say that time doesn't really heal - it just teaches you to live with pain, and probably that's right. But nothing in his life changes dramatically. He is still lonely, unhappy and hates himself. Except that he drinks far less and no longer tries to blow his brains out. 

There is another circumstance that has not changed over the past months - he still continues to look for the stranger from his dreams among the people around him. But to no avail. At one point, he even decides to sign up for a dating app in the hope of finding her there - but quickly deletes it, angry with himself. What a stupid thing - for that stuff  he's already too old. It's even more stupid to try to find this girl, because most likely she doesn't even exist.

- Hurry up! – irritably grumbles Khonshu, - the later you get there, the more people will get harmed!

- So maybe you should have told me about this earlier? - strains Marc through his teeth, jumping from rooftop to rooftop. God doesn't dignify him with an answer.

Finally they are there. Through the panoramic windows of the business center Marc sees four armed terrorists bursting into the conference room on the eleventh floor. It's time to get to work.

Having quickly neutralized the scumbags, Marc looks around. He counts five victims, two of whom are definitely dead. He foully curses under his breath. Maybe he would like to stay and help the wounded, but healing is not his job: he is a murderer.

Suddenly he feels someone's presence behind his back: a barely perceptible movement, attention directed at him. He turns around. And meets the gaze of astonishing eyes. Their terribly frightened owner had obviously been hiding under the table all this time, and now had decided to peer out of her shelter.

Marc freezes, even seems to stop breathing. His heart pounds against his rib cage like a hammer against an anvil. The girl from his dreams, his living fantasy is now standing a few feet away from him. He hasn't made her up, he hasn't lost his mind. She is real. And she's here.

Waking up, Marc mentally thanks Khonshu for yanking him out of this state, forcing him to remember where they are. He tries to remember how oxygen is supposed to enter the body: inhale, then exhale, and repeat - yes, that seems right. Glad his face is masked and the girl can't see the hungry eyes he's looking at her with now. Swallowing, he hesitantly holds out his hand to her, letting her know that it's safe here now. She timidly takes a step towards him.  

Suddenly there comes a click, a sound Marc wouldn't confuse with anything else: a grenade. Fortunately, despite his confusion, he reacts to the danger with lightning quickness, as befits the warrior he has been his entire conscious life. Wrapping his arms around the girl's waist and pulling her against him, he leaps out the window seconds before a monstrous explosion erupts. She behaves surprisingly bravely, not making a single sound, just clinging with all her might to Marc's shoulders, who is so focused on saving her that doesn't realize he's touching her in reality for the first time.

When their feet softly hit the ground, he continues to shield the girl with his cloak for a few moments from the falling shards of glass and burning debris, and then releases her from his arms. She retreats back a few steps, trembling all over, her eyes wide open as she stares at her savior. Marc suddenly realizes that his silly mummy-like costume might scare her even more, and makes the mask and hood disappear. Then he raises his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

- Please don't be afraid. I won't hurt you.

She licks her parched lips and nods. Marc can't get his brain to work. He doesn't know how to act, what to say to her. It seems all he can do now is stand there, stupidly staring at her. Finally the most appropriate and adequate question comes to his mind:

- You aren't injured?

- I'm fine, - she gets quiet, and then adds, - thank you.

Marc nods silently. That's it - now his supply of suitable phrases is definitely exhausted. And he's totally fucked. For the past six months, all he's lived with was thoughts of her. The desire to find her. This phantom hope. And here she's standing in front of him - God, universe, fate, whoever, is giving him this chance. Giving him what he wants more than he can imagine. And he doesn't know what to do with this chance, doesn't know how to use it.

Despair mixed with anger floods over him. Hate and disgust for himself fill his mouth with bitterness. Fuck it. Is she capable of loving a lowlife like him? Is anyone even capable?

- I have to get back in there, - Marc squeezes out, - those four weren't working alone - someone helped them to get in.

He turns around, and, mentally showering himself with a stream of curses, paces to the entrance of the building. The girl behind his back still doesn't move. Marc stops. Hesitates for a few seconds. Fuck it...

Returning to her, he forces his voice to sound as calm as possible when he utters:

- I'm sorry. I understand how inappropriate and wild this is going to sound. But I can't help but ask. Would you agree to have dinner with me?

Incredibly beautiful eyes of the girl open even wider, her soft, plump lips parted in astonishment. Marc patiently waits for her answer, doing his best to hide the panic that overwhelms him, growing with every second of her silence. Finally she replies:

- Y-yes. Okay.

The relief Marc experiences now is impossible to convey in any words, in any language in the world. He nods:

- Okay. Tomorrow at seven at Fitz's Brasserie.

Unable to contain the storm of emotions any longer, he hurriedly disappears into the building. He knows he has to find everyone involved in this attack. Find them and beat the shit out of them. He has to do it, to spew out everything that's tearing him up inside right now, or he'll just explode.

And tomorrow... tomorrow he'll pull himself together and do everything right.

Tags: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction ; @mylittledelulucorner ; @oscar-isaacx ; @ingoldthewizard

[ferigrievous]

attractive things they do ; haikyuu ver . ⋆˚࿔

bokuto ; doesnt know personal space or manners when it comes to you. will wave to you in the middle of a test if he sees you passing in the hallway, or will yell your name if he spots you in the cafeteria. doesn’t matter if you saw each other five minutes ago, he still greets you like you’ve been gone a year.

akaashi ; has crazy fast reflexes. despite not being as muscular as bokuto, he still never wavers whenever he catches something, as seen when he caught him after he fainted. you dont even notice you dropped something before he’s handing it back to you.

aone ; waits for you to finish talking. never cuts people off, even when they’re rambling or slow. he’ll just nod and look at you like everything you say matters. he also doesnt stutter, and takes his time to speak. you dont mind it when people stutter, but you convince yourself its because he wants to think out every word he says (to you).

futakuchi ; worst teaser to walk the earth. says “yeah? and what if i did?” and “are ya’ gonna do something about it.” more than he sees his own mother. never oversteps, and knows what specifically to not bring up, but he knows you’ll always do something about it.

koganegawa ; says everything out loud. narrates his entire life and lets people know how he’s thinking, or what he’s doing. you usually find this annoying when other people do it, but somehow hes just funny and oblivious enough for it to cancel out.

ukai ; always smells good. could smoke up a whole room and down a whole bottle of whisky in an afternoon and he’d still smell good. you can smell him even after he’s left a room, but sometimes you think its just a placebo effect. you notice whenever its missing.

takeda ; watches the credit scenes of a movie. will clap, and will talk to other people about it like its just another thing. when people ask why, he says its because ‘someone worked hard on this!’ applies to other things too, but something as small as this gets you everytime.

kiyoko ; remembers everything you say. not in a creepy way, just in a soft, careful way. the kind of person who brings up something you forgot you even told her. you’ll offhandedly mention your favorite flower and a week later she’ll give you one.

yachi ; double checks everything. did you bring your coat? do you have your wallet and keys? did you do the homework?  she’s on it. says “just in case!” with this big worried smile like she can’t help it.

alisa ; takes the best pictures. most of her pictures are candid, ones you think are ugly but she’ll cherish like its made of pure gold. she rarely asks you to pose for a picture, but she always makes sure you look good. you almost never notice when she has her camera out until she tags you in a post later that night.

akane ; always has two extra hair ties. you never notice, because she always has her hair up, until alisa asks for it and you ask her why she has so many. she doesnt answer you, but you find out its because no one ever had hairties strong enough to hold her hair properly, so she makes sure no one else has that problem. not that youlll ever let her know you know this, of course.

konoha ; mimics people without realizing. picks up their slang, their hand gestures, the way they write their &s and ?s. whenever someone brings it up, he pretends not to notice because he’s too embarrassed. 

terushima ; stupidly smart. you hate it, how he’s not a high honors student, but a highest honors student, and has been for years. you never see him study, never see him struggle, and never even hear him talk about school outside of class, but he’s never had anything lower than a 90 on anything.

daisho ; always knows what you mean. when you’re struggling with words, he knows exactly what youre going to say before you even think of it. you usually hate it when other people do it because theyre almost always wrong, but he somehow knows what you mean every single time.

sakusa ; walks on the outside of the sidewalk. doesnt care about the sidewalk rule, doesnt care if the person/people hes walking with are 10x stronger and bigger than him. doesnt mention it, does it naturally, and if you purposely switch it, he’ll switch it back without you even noticing.

komori ; makes a big deal about small wins. big believer in ‘a little is better than nothing’. even if its something as simple like doing your bed or doing the dishes, he’ll grin and congratulate you anyway.

[elodiah]

Fic Rec Friday

No rules or theme, just fics you've read recently (or ages ago) that you want to share with the world.

Thanks @loki-is-my-kink-awakening for the tag last week!

So, one thing about me is that ever since I started writing fic, I’ve barely done any reading of it. It’s mostly a silly self-preservation thing, and I absolutely hate it, and hope that I can get past it someday because I know I’ve missed out on a LOT of yummy cake. 😭

Having said that, anyone who knows me knows that I’m utterly feral, head-over-heels obsessed with @kcscribbler’s work. 🫣😆

Like others, I was completely reeled in by The Storyteller Saga way back when the s2e6 trauma was still terribly raw. Phenomenal writing, and some of the best world-building I’ve ever seen in a fic ‘verse. KC continued to thrill me by producing more brilliant Loki fic, including some very involved works such as the incredible, heart-wrenching Science & Fiction series, and two reverse-bang fics: the adorable Mixed Signals and stunningly beautiful Please Try (Your Call) Again.

However, when you’re in need of a quick fix of feels, you really can’t go past a tasty little one-shot, and I wanted to rec two of KC’s that… well, frankly, I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve reread these, as they’re just a perfect snack of whump and h/c, and are longstanding comfort-reads for me. They are both basically identical in theme (post-panic hugs, MY BELOVED 😭) and both tumblr hug game prompt fills from last year:

Consequences (4077 words)

Summary: In which a mission goes wrong, and Mobius has to make a snap judgment call in the field.

Includes a lovely helping of Loki whump, which everyone knows is my absolute fave, and a very cool and creative scenario, to boot.

AND:

Premonitions (2468 words)

Summary: Many decades after S2, in a post-Tree-fix future, a mission-gone-wrong scare plants the seeds for potential retirement from the TVA.

A little dose of light Mobius whump, and Loki being both quick-thinking and concerned/caring. THEM. 🥹

Also, I want to throw in an extra special mention for one of my fave post-s2e1 fics:

Mercy in Ignorance (9489 words)

Summary: In the immediate aftermath of S2E1, both Loki and Mobius have a lot to unpack emotionally, mentally, and physically.

I didn’t realise until right now that this is also a hug game prompt fill… wow, who knew that I have a type? 🤣 This one has some lovely Loki whump once again, and a bit of emo whump for Mobius too.

Anyway, thank you so sooo much, KC, for feeding me and the fandom! You’re absolutely awesome. 🫂💚

Feel free to share some of your reccs!: @kcscribbler , @lokimobius , @in-my-loki-feels , @loki-is-my-kink-awakening , @insomniaflarrow , @thosegayoldmen , @silentxsymphony , @mirilyawrites , @blackbirdofasgard , @distracteddream , @impulsemuppet , @boredintjqueen

[bloominglegumes]

Can you share your favorite fics w jasterwave please 🤲 They give me so much joy awhhh

its so tragic that there are so few jazterwave fics out there <//3

here's a few that i really love !!

Angel of Music by ArrowAces - might have seen me freaking out over this fic a few days ago? its so like.ohhguhf my soggy guy ,,, super fun interactions and so sweet and i love it sm

Connect The Systems, Start The Music by Spector_Author - (requires log in on ao3) i've suggested this one before but i'll do it again because it's so cute and fun and goofy and i love them. g1 stupid silly guys <33

two hands by VillainousVivs - i can't even begin to describe it this fic is so so fascinating and the world goes so deep ,, deliciously convoluted and tragic and hilarious all at once just read it please i love this author's stuff

rhythm and blues by Zekkass - the story has smut as the main part of the plot so be warned if it's not your thing fjdjfj but the dynamic between the three of them is written so so nicely,, awkward and sweet and intimate and the fear of being seen like ouhrghf

Radio Static by HALFnHALF1 - tasty amazing pre-war doomed. divorced. romantic and touching and tragic and so doomed <33 currently still in progress, deliciously long and i'm so <3 looking forward to the rest <3

[crimeronan]

i've seen a couple people in the notes of this very good post about fictional polyamory by @thebibliosphere say things along the lines of "oh, i've been doing it wrong :(" or "how do i know if i did this right??" or "i should probably give up and start over, i wrote this badly :(" and. no!!!!

(i AM seeing far MORE people say "oh, this clarified and helped me so much, i think i know how to fix issues i've been having with my own story" which. YES!!!!)

listen. if you're a monogamous person who's writing a polyamorous relationship, and you've been focusing mainly on The Triad and All Three Together All The Time as the endgame, that's literally fine. that's a perfectly acceptable and strong starting point for your plotting, imo. you do not need to give up on a story that you've started like this.

but the things discussed in the post Can and Should improve your execution!

you can keep the same plot beats and overall relationship arc 100%. polyamorous relationships are infinite in their formations, every one is unique. "basically a monogamous romance but with three people" Does exist, as a relationship type. you're not hashtag Misrepresenting (TM) poly people with it

BUT i do think it will help to read up on some poly people talking about how their relationships Differ from monogamous ones.

so i have outlined some basic important concepts about polyamory.

MORE IMPORTANTLY though, i've broken down some questions that you can answer throughout the writing process to strengthen your individual dyad relationships, your individual characterization, & your characters' individual feelings/experiences. this is a writing resource have fun

future kitkat butting in to say i spent over two hours writing this and it definitely needs a readmore. it is also NOT comprehensive. but everything should be pretty simple to follow! feel free to reblog if you find it helpful yourself or just want to reward me for how gotdan long this took KSLDKFJKDL.

i've grabbed quick links for a couple of the important concepts, some have SEO pitches in them but the info largely seems to be good. (if i missed anything Egregiously Gross on these sites i should be able to update the links with better ones later, since they're under the readmore.)

sidenote: this is NOT meant to be overwhelming, despite the length. if you can't read all of this, that's Okay. you do not need to give up on your writing.

here we go:

compersion!

compersion is a BIG thing in a lot of polyamorous relationships. it's joy derived from seeing two (or more) of your partners happy together, or joy derived from seeing your partner happy with someone else.

compersion is really important as a concept because it highlights that every individual relationship within a polycule is different -- and that that's a GOOD thing. it's sort of the inverse of jealousy.

by the "inverse of jealousy," i mean that instead of feeling left out and upset and possessive, you feel happy/joyous/content.

i can use personal experience as an example: it's a Relief for me when my partners receive joy/support/sex/romance/etc that i can't (or prefer not to) give them. and i love seeing my partners make each other laugh and be silly together.

it's 100% okay for a poly triad not to be together 100% of the time, it doesn't mean that the third member is being left out or not treated equally when two people do things alone together.

(i have individual dates with my partners all the time! PLUS larger 3-and-4-person date nights.)

if the third member DOES feel jealous or left out, then the polycule can have a conversation to figure out what needs/wants aren't being met, and solve that. this happens semi-regularly in my polycule, as it will happen in any relationship (including monogamous ones)! it's just part of being an adult, sometimes you have to talk about feelings.

metamours!

a metamour is someone who is dating your partner, but ISN'T dating you. this may not be relevant for people writing closed three-person romantic sexual triads, but it's a super helpful term to know.

the linked article also lists different types of metamour relationships with some fun phrasing i hadn't heard before. the tl;dr is: sometimes you'll be domestic cohabitation friends, sometimes you'll be buddies with your own friendship, sometimes you might not interact much outside of parties, every relationship is different.

there's no one-size-fits-all requirement for metamour relationships. sometimes polyamorous people will end up dating their metamour after a while (has happened to me), sometimes polyamorous people will break up with one partner for normal life reasons, but remain friendly metamours.

the goal of polyamory is NOT for EVERYONE to fall in love. it is 100% okay if this happens in your story, it happens in real life too! but it is also 100% okay for characters to be metamours without ever becoming "more than friends."

(sidenote: try to kill any internalized "more than" that you have when it comes to friendship. friends are just as important and special and vital as partners.)

of course there are a million ways for messiness to occur with metamours within a complex polycule, exactly like with close-knit platonic friend groups. however this post is not about that! there's enough "here's how polyamory can go wrong" stuff out there already, so i'm focusing on the positives here :)

open versus closed polyamorous relationships!

i'm struggling to find an online article that reflects my experience without directly contradicting at least SOME stuff. so i'll give a quick rundown

google has a bunch of conflicting definitions of open relationships and whether open relationships are different from polyamory. the general consensus seems to be that an open relationship prioritizes one partnership (often a marriage), but that each partner can have extraneous flings or long-term commitments (most often sexual in nature).

this is not typically how i use the term wrt polyamory. the poly concept is pretty simple. a closed polyamorous relationship is one with boundaries like a monogamous one. there are multiple partners in the polycule, but they are not interested in having anybody new join said polycule.

an open polyamorous relationship tends to be more flexible -- it just means that IF someone in the polycule develops mutual feelings for a new person, it's fine for them to become part of said polycule if they want to! the relationship/person is open to newcomers.

some groups will need to negotiate this all together, others will just go "haha, you kids have fun." just depends on the individuals!

with open AND closed polyamorous relationships, the most important thing is making sure that there's respectful communication and that everyone is on the same page. but there's no one-size-fits-all way to do that.

i wish i could give you guys a prescriptive "You Must Do It This Way" guide, but that's.... basically the opposite of what polyamory is about, HAHA.

feelings for multiple people!

i was gonna tack this on to the previous section but decided it warranted its own lil bit.

a defining feature (....i'm told?) of monogamous relationships is that a monogamous person only has feelings for One individual at a time. they only want a relationship with one individual at a time. or, if they DO have feelings for multiple people simultaneously, they're still only comfortable dating one person at a time & being exclusive with that one person.

this is perfectly fine!

the poly experience is generally different from this. but once again..... polyamorous people all have different individual perspectives on this.

for me, i have never been able to draw hard boxes around romantic vs sexual vs platonic relationships, & i love many people at once. my personal polycule lacks many strict definitions beyond "these are my chosen people, i want to forge a life with them indefinitely, whatever shape that life takes"

some poly people feel explicit romantic or sexual attraction to multiple people at once, some poly people feel almost no romantic or sexual attraction at all. i'd say that MOST poly people feel different things for different partners, which is not a bad thing!

some poly people are even monogamous-leaning -- they have just chosen one romantic partner who is themselves part of a larger polycule. (so this monogamous-leaning person has at least one metamour!)

or alternatively, they might have one romantic partner AND a qpr, or other ways of defining relationships. (this is a factor in my own polycule!)

i made this its own point because if you're writing a straightforward triad, this is unlikely to come up in the story itself -- but it's worth thinking about how your characters develop/handle feelings outside of their partnerships.

like, is this sort of a soulmateship, 'these are the only ones for me' type deal? in which they won't fall in love with anyone else, and can be fairly certain of that?

that's pretty close to typical monogamous standards but you Can make it work. just be thoughtful with it

alternatively, can you see any of these characters falling in love Again after the happily-ever-after? and how would the triad approach it, if so? what would they all need to talk about beforehand, and what feelings would everybody have about the situation?

it's worth considering these questions even if the hypothetical will never feature in your actual canon, because knowing the answers to these questions will help you understand all of the individuals & their relationship(s) MUCH better.

i've been typing this for nearly two hours and there's a lot more i COULD say because... there's just a lot to say. i'll close out with some quick questions that you can ask yourself when developing the dyad dynamics within your triad

first, take a page and create a separate section for each individual dyad. then answer these questions for every pair:

how does each pair act when alone?

how do they act differently alone compared to when they're with their third partner?

are there any elements of this dyad (romantic, sexual, financial, domestic, etc) that these two people DON'T have with the third partner?

if so, what are they?

are there any boundaries or hard limits within this dyad that aren't shared with the third partner?

if so, what are they?

partner 3 goes out of town alone for a few weeks. what are the remaining two doing in their absence?

(doesn't have to be anything special, it's just to get a sense of how the two interact on a day-by-day basis without the third there)

what is something that each partner in the dyad admires about the other -- that they DON'T necessarily see in the third partner?

what problem do These Two Specifically need to solve in the story before their relationship will work?

how is that problem DIFFERENT from the problems being solved within the other two dyads?

doing this for ALL THREE dyads is VITAL imo. that way, you develop complex and nuanced and different relationships that all have unique dynamics.

those questions should be enough to get you started, i hope

then After you've charted the differences in relationships, you can start to jot down similarities in the overarching triad. what does one person admire in Both of their partners? what are activities that all three like to do together? what are boundaries or discussions that all three share?

but the main goal is to figure out how to Differentiate each relationship!

a polycule is only as strong as the individual relationships within it. if two people are struggling with their own relationship, adding a third person won't fix that.

(UNLESS the third person is the catalyst for those two to, like, Actually Communicate And Work Their Shit Out. i just mean that the old adage of "maybe if we just add a third-" works about as well to fix a miserable non-communicative marriage as, uh, "maybe if we have a baby-")

AND FINALLY.

if you're not sure whether your poly romance reads organically to poly people, you can hire a sensitivity reader with poly experience. if you can't afford that, you can read up on polyamorous resources like a glossary of terms & articles actually written by poly people. (and stories written by poly people!)

you can also just.... ask poly people questions, if they're open to it. i like talking about polyamory and my own relationships so you're welcome to send asks if u want, i just can't guarantee i'll answer bc my energy levels fluctuate a lot and i don't always have time.

polyamorous people are in an uphill battle for positive representation right now & so the LAST thing i want to see is authors giving up on their stories bc they're worried about getting things Wrong. well-meaning and positive stories that treat this kind of love as normal, healthy, & aspirational are So So So Needed. even if you guys end up with some funky-feeling details.

seriously, if you're monogamous then you probably don't have a full idea of Just How Nasty a lot of people can get about polyamory. i wish it DIDN'T mean so much for you guys to want to write nice stories about us, but it does mean a lot. and it means a lot that you want to do it WELL.

in conclusion. this is not a prescriptive guide, it's just a way to raise questions. and also, you all are doing FINE.

[arttsuka]

Based on somewhat real events

I spent way too much time drawing this...

But yeah, Ford finally saying thank you

A continuation (kinda)