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neutron-stars-collision · 1 year ago

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Waiting for the Night

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Epilogue - Always You

Chapter 20; Masterlist Summary: One December evening, Vengeance climbs into your apartment through the window. That's regular occurrence by now. What isn't regular, is the conversation you share. Warnings: 18+ (sorry, the gremlin in my brain insisted I describe some of that), swearing. Author's Notes: So, this is the official farewell. This epilogue turned out to be kind of an 'evening in the life of', but I think I needed that. Even if only just to say goodbye to those two. It's 6k of headcanons and fluff, so I hope you enjoy 💕 Once again, thanks for sticking around ✨ A playlist will follow bc of course I have that too. Feel free to let me know what you think? Tag list: @thecraziestcrayon, @kookiewastolen, @imimsy, @tuskens-mando, @sugarcoated-lame, @blue-aconite, @hypnoash, @rabbitdictionary, @nicklet94, @mcrmarvelloki, @shimmeringgrim, @ttae-yong, @freyadruid, @siriuslydestiny, @ms-dont-care, @raphaelaisabella, @itsmytimetoodream, @brightjimini, @castellandiangelo, @grunge-n-roses5

(gif credit: @1038276637)

No amount of thinking and consideration could have ever prepared you for the reality of being Bruce Wayne’s partner. Or girlfriend, a term you had sometimes relished teasing him with. If only to get that same deadpan look, complemented by a pink blush on his cheeks and one sentence reply.

Always the same: “You’re much more than that to me”. Every time the answer made you blush too, overwhelmed with love and hopefulness like never before. Because, as it quickly turned out, Bruce treated this seriously, daily putting in work to make sure whatever you had would survive.

And it did, at least until the rain showers had been replaced by snowfall, and the white coat covering most of Gotham almost made up for the plummeting temperatures. Long enough for you to get used to the idea that a solo night at your place did not mean loneliness. It did not even mean that you would be alone for that much longer, for, as it happened, Bruce’s patrol now sometimes led to your apartment instead of the Terminus. It was a substitute for the nights when you opted to stay at your place instead of perusing the Tower. All the heads-up he would give would be a quick text sent between the hours when you were likely still awake. But it was all you needed, instantly perking up at the idea.

That night was like that, as you were informed by a message on the burner phone: “I’ll come by after 2”. Easy fate to achieve - waiting for Bruce until 2 am. Although, the slow passage of time made you groan for the umpteenth time as you found it still to be only 1 am. An hour. A whole bloody hour. Your head dropped onto the table with a dull thud. The waiting for him was the worst part of it all, perhaps only next to the constant anxiety that filled your veins whenever Bruce was playing the part of Batman. Mostly because you never knew whether waiting up on him in the cave would be to get that desired kiss and help him with the amour or whether it would entail cleaning the wounds and bandaging the cuts. You already had a fair share of both. And there was no point guessing which you preferred.

Your favourite nights, by a large margin, were those when Bruce stayed home. Or at least stayed long enough to go to bed with you. Those were the nights of discoveries and enlightenment, leaving you breathless and wanting more. Always wanting more. Luckily now, you did not have to deny yourself what you had become addicted to. And the list was growing exponentially. Like the fact that after that first night when you had confessed your feelings for Bruce, the three words had only gained power. Enough so that when you whispered them at just the right time, with Bruce still buried deep inside you and inching towards his release - they were all the trigger he needed. All sense of control seemed to disappear as soon as you reminded him you loved him. And for that, the affection only grew.

You knew that was very much mutual.

The other discovery, which had led to many sleepless lonely nights, spent squirming under the covers, was that once Bruce had understood that he truly was the best you ever had, a new level of confidence was unlocked. Some might even call it smugness. But you could not possibly mind a bit of cockiness when it got you a man who would tease you with his fingers and mouth till you were a whimpering mess. And then, only then, he would lean in close, let his mouth brush your heated cheek and the shell of your ear, and whisper: “Come for me”. A request. A command even. You had no choice but to obey. Not that you didn’t want to. By now, the exact way he had spoken had become a go-to soundtrack to all your daydreams. A weak substitute for when you were apart.

It was still better than nothing.

Glancing at the watch to check the time, you were easily brought back from the pleasant recollections. It was almost 2 am. Not long now. You did not need a mirror to confirm your mouth stretched into a dumb smile. The reaction was involuntary at this point, transforming you into that type of lovesick individual you always scoffed at. The irony was infuriating. Feeling the tell-tale shiver of anticipation, you made one final lap of the flat. Smoothing out the bedsheets (even though neither of you cared about it), taking out the short-rimmed tumbler (in case he did want that whiskey you offered before Halloween) and dragging a hand through your hair to detangle any knots (even though he had seen you with bed-hair and mascara stains on your cheeks). Only then you could say you were ready.

And right on time, too, for before long, you heard the familiar light knock upon the window frame. A smile broke out on your face as you crossed the room to unlatch the window and stepped back. This part always made you laugh. You knew why Bruce deemed the window a better way of entering your apartment, but it was still a strange spectacle to witness. Using the grappling hook, he would lift himself to the level of your building and gracefully slip in. The only downside? The melting snow created puddles on your floor. This time you were prepared, a sweeping mop in hand.

The first glimpse you caught was a smile under the cowl. A look so strange for Mr Vengeance himself, yet something you had grown accustomed to. You returned the expression with ease, watching as he jumped in feet first through the window frame and landed on your floor with a quiet groan. That, too, was a sign – this night had been rough. Before you could process the realization, Bruce strengthened up and took off the cowl. As always, that first shared glance made you shiver. The smudged black makeup was smeared around his eyes, hair messy and unkempt, begging you to arrange it. There was no reason to wait.

“Hello, you” you closed the remaining gap and placed your hand on his shoulder.

The material felt cold and made you shiver as you rose on your toes to level with him. Bruce’s eyes traced your every move as he wound his arm around your waist, keeping you close and secure.

“Hey,” the whisper you got in return was the last thing you let him say before you crashed your mouth into his with a satisfied hum.

The coldness of his lips did nothing to stifle the spark of fire slowly building in your veins. As always. Carefully you let your tongue trace his bottom lip, prodding at the seam till Bruce opened his mouth, inviting you in. The familiarity of the feeling was enough to let you drop the remaining weight from your shoulders and sink into him, tasting and consuming all you could. All that he was willing to give you.

Bruce responded in kind to the tempo you had set, caressing your tongue with his and lightly nipping at your bottom lip. He felt like home. Even with the melting snow dripping onto your clothes and the hard edges of the armour digging between your ribs. The need to continue was stronger than anything else. Until neither of you could get deep enough breaths to continue.

You drew back with a quiet whine, frustration adding spikes to the warmth in your chest. The blue of Bruce’s eyes staring back at you smoothed the feeling, instantly making you notice the glimmer in his gaze. The love that was no longer a secret between you. It was impossible to escape the blush blooming on your cheeks and the pick-up in your heart rate. Ignoring the urge to hide from his perceptive stare, you returned to the task at hand.

One assessing look was enough as you raised your hand to cup his cheek and then up to comb through the hair falling into his eyes. You carefully brushed it away from his forehead, barely managing not to drown in the grateful look you got awarded. The only way of avoiding the shame of losing your mind and doing something utterly stupid like falling to your knees before Bruce, you grabbed the mop and pushed it onto his chest with a simple instruction:

“Now mop the floor” you eyed the growing puddle at your feet with a critical eye, adding, “You’ve made a mess” without waiting for a reply, you turned away towards the kitchen.

Just in time to hear the answer.

“Yes, ma’am” you did not need to see him to know he was smiling.

Approaching the counter, you opened the cupboard and eyed the contents. It was too late for a meal, but when Bruce visited, you would always share a drink before retiring to your bedroom. It was only a question of choice. What suited him better on this particular December night?

“What’s your poison tonight?” you asked and turned to face Bruce, finding him leaning the mop on the wall and the floors shiny and swept (naturally), “Coffee? Tea? Whiskey?” the first two had been staples on the menu, the last one was an inside joke.

An option you always gave him for the sake of it. And also, because you were yet to see Bruce Wayne relax with an alcoholic drink in his hand. Early on, he had told you he did not indulge in that too often, seldom, in fact, because alcohol did not exactly help the difficult thoughts springing in his mind at every possible chance. You knew the feeling too well, so you never pushed. But maybe-

“You know what?” Bruce’s question interjected your internal monologue as he eyed the tumbler you had taken out earlier, “Maybe it’s time. At last,” raising his head to meet your searching gaze, Bruce grinned.

Even now, when smiles no longer were rare, you still treasured each one. Mostly because they lit up Bruce’s beautiful face like nothing else, throwing everything into perspective. It was a point of personal pride you made him smile like that.

Without waiting for Bruce to change his mind, you took the bottle off the shelf and grabbed a second glass to fill. Two ice cubs per drink clinked in the tumblers as you poured the rich brown liquid and turned to hand it to him.

“Cheers,” raising yours to toast, you sent him another pleased smile.

You did not need to discuss the arrangement, wordlessly taking a sip from the glass and placing it back on the counter to free your hands for the next step in the routine. Bruce mirrored your moves, patiently waiting for you to start taking off the armour pieces. By now, the process was almost second nature. You did not need his directions, easily following the straps and buckles to undo them. Each plating would end up on one of your chairs, a dark heap covered with the cloak. Only once Bruce was left with the black thermals, you drifted to the sofa and fell against each other on the cushions. Multiple points of contact at every spot. Calves, knees, thighs, hips, and shoulders. At the least.

At first, you did not talk, quietly soaking in the calm. It quickly became evident that Bruce valued his peace, and each nightly escapade was enough to drain his battery. Both physically and mentally. That is why when he returned home or to your place the priority was letting him rest. Usually, you would put the tv on as background noise, but tonight as soon as you turned your head to look at Bruce, the remote control was frozen in your hand.

Suddenly it struck you. The strangeness of the moment in its entirety. It was nothing you could have foreseen, not in a million years. And yet, it made perfect sense.

You must have stared for too long because the next thing you registered was Bruce looking back at you with an incredulous glim in his eyes. He arched an eyebrow, his hand landing on your knee to gently stroke the skin beneath your pyjama pants. A question followed:

“What’s that look for?” the curiosity in his tone made you smile, barely resisting the urge to hide your face in the crook of his neck to avoid being stared at.

Especially by someone who could see through each wall you ever tried to raise. By now, you never even tried anymore, aware that it was pointless. Bruce (somehow) wanted all of you, so that is what he got. You could only hope he would never change his mind.

“It’s a lot to take in,” shrugging with one shoulder, the one not tucked against his side, you chose the safest answer.

All the while knowing Bruce would not let that be the end of that conversation. You only had to wait approximately 10 seconds for the follow-up question.

“What is?” you had to admit he was good at this.

Interrogation techniques that somehow fit right in the dynamic between you. And made it impossible for you to hide from him. While the thought had been terrifying once, it was almost easy to get used to. Almost being the keyword there.

“Oh, you know” feigning nonchalance, you chose to pace your answer, taking your time with the reveal, while watching him closely, “Having Vengeance in my living room” was the most obvious of hang-ups, something you did not think you could get accustomed to. Each time you saw tv coverage of Batman or had your work colleagues develop a piece on the vigilante, the thrill of realization felt like something new, something you had never experienced before. Now, you let your gaze stray to the half-empty tumbler in his hand, adding another layer to the confession, “Serving whiskey to Bruce Wayne” lifting your eyes to catch the growing smile on his face, you allowed the fondness seep into your tone. The feeling was almost drowning out the disbelief that still tinted your vowels. You never expected to get rid of that either, “Having that same Bruce Wayne as my boyfriend…” it was strange to let the term roll off your tongue this freely, but the strangeness could not contend with the happiness you could see in his eyes. It was enough to make you grin, the conclusion to the speech coming up effortlessly, “Never once saw that coming” no lies were to be found there, “I need to stare a little longer to make sure you won’t disappear on me now” the excuse was flimsy, but it had the intended effect.

Bruce smiled and pulled you closer again, your body falling against his chest like always. The warmth of the embrace kept the chill from settling in your bones. His arms tightened around your waist as he rested his chin on your head and let out a content sigh.

“I won’t” there was no need to question him, all sense of doubt disappearing like melting snow when he added, “I like you too much,”

It was both what he said and how he said it. Like it was no big deal. Like the admission did not cost him anything. Like the character evolution you had witnessed in Bruce was something he was proud of. Something he took joy in if only because it mattered to you.

That was a little difficult to get used to.

So much so that instead of facing the affectionate admissions head-on, you chose to go for a joke, using it as a protective veil:

“Damn, never imagined Bruce Wayne would be such a softie” you lightly swatted him across the chest, not expecting the delighted giggle that would erupt from your throat when he caught your hand in his and squeezed it.

“I’m not” it took one look at Bruce, registering the slight pout and the petulance in his eyes, to make you abandon the pretence.

You dove in for a kiss, pressing your mouth against his in a quick, firm peck balancing just on the right sight of not being too greedy. Or distracting for the conversation you were still hoping to have with Bruce.

“Sure, babe” you placed another kiss on the apple of his cheek, slightly tinted pink, and changed the topic, “So, how’s Gotham? Any hot goss I should know about?” you bated your eyelashes as a complimentary show of begging.

Not that Bruce would otherwise deny you the answers. He never did that, which quickly made you the second most informed individual in the city. After the Batman, of course.

Bruce shifted slightly - a sign you had come to associate with the conversation taking a more serious turn. Placing a comforting hand on his knee, you waited as he gathered his thoughts and replied:

“There’s some talk of the Penguin putting most of his resources into bringing back the drops business” you frowned, already knowing what a mess would result from such a move. Although, unfortunately, it sounded plausible, “I’ve got addresses to scout that might be their new labs” Bruce glanced at you, awaiting a comment.

And potentially wordlessly asking whether you wanted to accompany him during the recon. It was something you did together, from time to time. An unusual way of spending time and a first-hand opportunity to gather information for work. And if the pleasant side-effect were the heated kisses shared in the shadowed alleys, then it was nobody’s business but yours.

You already knew it was a yes if he asked.

“That’s probably something you should share with Gordon” instead of voicing that, you chose to offer him reasoning.

The close cooperation between them was still a surprising development. But it was getting stronger and sometimes made you wonder whether the GCPD lieutenant would not be the very next person to learn Vengeance’s identity. So far, Bruce denied it, but you knew better than to take his word for granted. After all, decisions changed.

“And I will. But once I’m sure there’s truth in what I’ve been told,” Bruce shrugged, a brief hint of petulance in his tone making you grin.

Bruce Wayne also did not seem to change. Not completely.

You could never let a chance like that pass you by. Shifting yet again to sit up on your knees and face him, you dropped your voice a notch, giving it an appropriately seductive timbre:

“Good boy” before Bruce could react, you patted his head and dragged your fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands.

That was another key phrase of your relationship. The magical two words, if used correctly, gave you complete control over Bruce. As it turned out, the Wayne heir was incredibly susceptible to praise. You could never have too much fun with that knowledge.

You watched with growing satisfaction at how he shuddered, the two words already having an impact. Bruce blushed, and his eyes darkened almost imperceptibly. To anyone else, the reactions would have been difficult to discern from the poker face he had slipped back on. But it was much harder to fool you.

Bruce knew as much. He shrugged off your hand with unnecessary care and turned to glare at you. The twitching corner of his mouth was an easy giveaway.

“Careful there,” the warning in his voice was another trick taken straight from the toolbox.

You already knew what this was. The rules of the game were familiar by now. You did not have to fake the heat blooming in your face at the tone Bruce had implemented. All you had to do was give him your brightest smile and amp the innocent flicker in your eyes to fit the intent. That was always fun.

“Or what?” enjoying the way his eyes followed your every move, you placed your hand on his chest, pressing it flat against the fabric to feel the heartbeat, “You’re going to jump me?” as the question left your lips, your fingers begun tracing their path up the length of his thigh.

More often than not, that was how those precious nights between you began. With a ridiculous conversation and increasingly risky touch, getting rid of the remaining inhibitions. Not that there were many left.

You could see Bruce ponder the assumption, using the ball you had placed in his court. The decision was strictly up to him. You liked to remind him from time to time that you both could share the control equally. And that whatever he chose did not change anything for you. You were there for the long run.

“I’d love to” he reached out to brush the stray hair from your forehead, eyes showing hints of remorse that spoiled the answer before he gave it, “Not tonight though, sorry” it was impossible to miss the subtle wince on his face as Bruce shifted on the sofa.

That told you all you needed to know. Your hand stopped all its wandering, resting atop his thigh and tracing lazy circles over the black fabric. You knew that before you both went to bed, you would need to take out the ointments bought specifically for evenings like that and ask Bruce to take off his shirt. And it was alright. Fine, even. Because seeing Bruce Wayne shirtless was a perk of every kind of evening. Full stop.

Hoping the convey the feelings through the softness of your gaze, you allowed yourself one last joke. One final tease to satisfy the need and drag that shy smile out of its confines.

“You’ll pay for your crimes soon enough” Bruce let out a breathless laugh, and you felt like the luckiest being on the planet.

Yeah, you never saw this coming.

***

It was well past 4 am when you finally turned off the ceiling lights in your bedroom and joined Bruce on the bed. Sometimes that part, the brief conversations whispered with your heads resting against the headboard, felt almost like the domestic future you never expected to have. Like the word, which began with an m and ended with an e. You were still too scared to say it out loud or even in the quiet of your mind.

Ignoring the thought now, you quietly settled against the pillows and turned to stare at Bruce. He looked as if he belonged there, nestled underneath your woollen quilt with his damp, dark hair falling in strands over his forehead. Your heart throbbed in your chest. It was almost too good to be true. Fearing another wave of feelings you could not control, you broke the silence with whatever sentence you could think of:

“You know there’s this gala Réal is hosting before Christmas…” admittedly, it was something you had wanted to bring up to Bruce.

It has been on your mind since the mayor’s announcement via press release weeks back. After the election and everything else that followed, she had taken decisive steps to fix the city. One of them was inviting the elites and the journalists to the charity gala this December. Although you were sceptical about the effects, the intents alone were admirable.

You knew Bruce had received an invite. But if that were not common knowledge, the myriad of emotions passing through his face at the reminder would have been the giveaway. You could easily discern discomfort, uncertainty, and fear among them. Without thinking about it, you took hold of his hand resting on the covers and squeezed it. That was a common way of assuring Bruce that you were there, of offering him comfort when he would not ask for it first. After what felt like hours of silence, Bruce let out a tortured sigh and replied:

“Yes, of course. It’s only every other day that Alfred reminds me I should show up” from that dejected tone alone, you could recognize that it was a touchy subject.

And that Bruce had already made up his mind about doing everything he could not to go. Unfortunately for him, with this case and with many others you were on Alfred’s side. You made a quick mental note to mention it to the butler the next time you saw him.

“Well, you should” as soon as you spoke, Bruce sent you a glare and let out another pained groan. His penchant for dramatics was something you never expected but was incredibly happy to discover, always making you laugh, “I know, I know, but… I mean, I’ll be there” once the bit of information was out, you winced. It was a stupid thing to add. While it was true, the fact was entirely unnecessary. For obvious reasons, “Obviously we can’t go together… which I don’t mind, by the way,” nervous laughter broke through the surface as you unconsciously moved away from Bruce and fixed your gaze on the swirling patterns of the duvet “I knew what I was getting myself into with you, so…”

And you did know. You never expected to ramble around Gotham’s public events holding onto Bruce’s arm. It was not even something you actively yearned for, finding the desired happiness and peace in those quiet private moments instead. It was another case of your mouth having a mind of its own and an incontrollable want to fill the gaps between reasonable sentences with bullshit. It was far from the first time that had happened.

Maybe that was why what Bruce said next did not surprise you but only made the pricks of conscience worse.

“I’m sorry” the apology was filled with enough sincerity to make your heart ache.

You knew that he meant it. In his eyes, something as silly as keeping your relationship secret was another way of letting you down. Of not being enough for you. It was another thing to nag him in the quiet of his mind when there were no distractions. You knew what that was like all too well. Before Bruce could drown in the spiral of his own making, you leaned in to cup his face and spoke:

“No, Bruce, I… I love you” the admission was an easy thing to say these days, falling from your lips like the tears you had once shed over it, “Nothing changes that. Plus, there’s an exciting potential in taking some time away from the other guests by perusing the bathroom” you wiggled your eyebrows comically, delighted to see him smile “It’s just a suggestion,”

It felt like a relief when Bruce grinned and gave you a forehead kiss.

“I’ll think about it. I promise” giving his hand another squeeze, you accepted the truce and made sure to meet his gaze. The tone Bruce used told you that was only just the beginning, “You’re not the only one who didn’t see this coming” slightly changing the grip on your hand, Bruce caressed your knuckles in broad, repetitive strokes.

The shyness in his eyes was familiar by now. Although, still, his openness could surprise you. Like just now. With an admission that he had no obligation to make yet seemed eager to anyway. You tightened the hold on his hand and asked:

“Yeah?” wincing at the wavering voice, you could hardly conceal the surprise in your gaze.

Because that was a line of conversation, you never expected him to follow. At least not tonight. But it did not make you any less curious, always happy to get another glimpse into the workings of Bruce’s mind and heart. Those were utterly precious. It was pointless to even think about getting rid of the gaping mouth and the dazed eyes.

Judging by Bruce’s smile, there was no need to try either.

“Yep,” he nodded and raised his arm in an invitation, soon followed by words, “Come here” you did not hesitate in scooting closer and letting Bruce pull you to rest with your back against his chest. You could feel him nosing along the tendons in your neck, voice slightly muffled yet still audible “You’re absolutely terrifying” you could picture his gleeful smile with your eyes closed.

The joy in his tone felt infectious. It was easy to say he meant it. That being called terrifying was one of the highest honours Bruce could bestow on you. You leant into the lingering kiss he pressed to the nape of your neck and breathed out the reply:

“That’s a new one, but I’ll take it” stringing together the words and ignoring the fire torched in your lower stomach from something as simple as his lips on your neck were too difficult a feat to achieve.

It became apparent as soon as you became aware of your breathless voice and heard Bruce’s low chuckle resonating through your body. It was a sound you came to like, very much. It meant he was finding you amusing and decidedly good enough. It was something to shove in the face of struggling self-confidence that could always try a little more.

“You’re terrifying because, with you, I can’t hide behind the cowl and pretend I don’t exist” the sincerity of the statement was enough to make your heart trip over itself in your chest.

Without thinking, you raised your clasped hands to your mouth and kissed his knuckles. A few days old scrapes scratched the skin of your lips. It felt real.

“Is that a good thing?” you had to ask, even if only to prolong the fragile moment.

Because no matter how much you enjoyed the loudest of nights and the blatant confessions, poignancy was something else entirely. Something you would always chase after if it stepped into your sights. Like just now.

“Yes, because you make me braver” Bruce did not hesitate, his grip around your waist tightening just a little bit as he continued, “I’m pretty sure you know this, but you’re the only person that gets to see me. The real Bruce Wayne as he’s supposed to be” you did know that which did not make the knowledge feel any less groundbreaking “It’s just that I know I’m not enough. For you-” it was once he started saying utter bullshit, that you had to interject.

That was not acceptable. Not on your watch. Gently peeling Bruce’s arms from your waist, you turned in his lap to straddle his hips and placed your hands on his shoulders. He did not expect that. You could tell as much from the hitch in his breathing and the widening eyes. Bruce still took it in his stride, steadying you with his arm around your shoulders, the other hand tracing invisible pathways along your thigh. You knew he was struck into silence, unable to do anything but wait on your next call. Something about the power you possessed over him was intoxicating if you did as much as stop and think about it.

Most days, you simply did not.

“You’re really dumb, but that’s okay” without hesitation, you cupped his cheek and carded your fingers through his unruly hair, smiling like an idiot. Because in the end, it was quite simple, you were astonished Bruce did not know it just yet. You waited for his blue eyes to meet yours and whispered, “You’re everything to me,”

It was an easy synonym to the familiar I love you, and to the less apparent I don’t want to imagine my life without you. It was the only way you could tell him the extent of his importance. The only way you could try to without dissolving into tears or doing something stupid like asking him to marry you. You did not think that would be quite the right time for it.

Bruce’s answering smile, softened by the persisting edges of disbelief, told you that you made the right call. He understood. As always. Unlike your very first kiss, you moved simultaneously, colliding somewhere in between with strangled gasps. Your tongues met in an electrizing touch, igniting the fire in your veins and making you fall against him with a whimper. Bruce swallowed the sound, his fingers buried into your hair as his tongue traced the sharper edges of your canines. As if he did not have the inside of your mouth memorized by now.

You could only step into the dance, letting him set the pace. His warmth overwhelmed your body as you kissed his lips with the hunger and thirst of a dying woman. Because that was the next best thing you could think of to show him you meant it. Because the pressure of his mouth against yours and the taste of his tongue sometimes were the only things that felt real. Real enough to make you believe hope could persist. That it had a place within your reality. With each kiss, each confession, and each day that passed with Bruce, hope slowly replaced the longing that used to fill your heart. You could only trust that one day it would be eradicated.

Your kiss stretched until it was nearly impossible to breathe. Then, and only then, you nipped at Bruce’s lower lip and softened the bite with the swipe of your tongue before parting. His eyes looked beautiful when nearly swallowed by the gaping black of his blown-out pupils. And it was all your doing. You always took pleasure in the seconds just after the kiss, the few ticks of the clock when Bruce had to forcibly shake himself awake from the spell you had put him under. You could see it in the slight shake of his head, clearing the daze in his eyes and the deep breath he took before even trying to speak.

You rested your forehead against his, the pounding heart slowing down. Until everything that was left was a pleasant hum of the passion coursing in your veins. There was no need to act on it, so you let yourself exist and bask in the warmth of Bruce’s body against yours. When he finally spoke, you were almost composed:

“See? Terrifying” happiness shone in his blue eyes as Bruce raised his hand to let his fingers trace the edges of your features.

It was impossible not to lean into his touch, greedily taking every ounce of tenderness Bruce would offer. He always took that additional second to brush the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, soothing the kiss-bruised skin. You could hardly stop the satisfied purr that rose in your throat.

Instead, you tried to focus on the sentiment. On how much it must have meant for Bruce to admit. Without needing to think about it too hard, you knew you understood the feeling. That the myriad of emotions swirling in your chest could be summarized with one response. One that Bruce would see through easily. One that would show him that you have this in common, too.

You leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek and whispered the reply:

“Quite right, too,” the unspoken meaning shone through the gaps between the vowels, highlighted by the slight waver of your voice.

When Bruce tipped your chin and met your gaze, you knew you made the right choice. Another ounce of hope replaced the longing. Another heavy sigh became unanchored and took flight within the safety of his eyes.

As the snow covered the city outside, you became aware of two things. 1) It was good to be seen if the gaze that pierced through your soul was kind. 2) Bruce Wayne could be many things, but above all that, he was yours. And that was enough.

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rosencrantzsguildenstern · 3 months ago

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for turnaround time, it usually takes me a day or 2 to figure out an idea and where it's going; then i can usually write about 2,000 words on a holiday and 200 words on a weekday. so, if you commission me for a drabble on monday, you'll probably get it on tuesday or wednesday; if you commission me for 3000 words on monday, you'll probably get it on sunday; assuming i don't have other pending commissions, which i'll let you know about when you request!

extra details under cut~

-i didn't put them on the image cause there's not a big fic demand, but this is a blog with a rosencrantz & guildenstern are dead/hamlet url, so i'll totally write fic about ragad/hamlet— however, for anything else you see me post a lot about, i might not feel confident writing fic about it due to a lack of memory/character understanding/etc so ask first!

-paypal disallows nsfw, while ko-fi disallows stuff 'outside of the sexual mainstream'; so if you want smut, donate an equivalent amount (don't go through ko-fi's commission section or write your request with the donation) and i'll write it for you for free and send it to you outside of those sites

-i'll consider most ships, but for the fandoms i listed, the big ones i DON'T ship are zoscar (rqg) and tamasou (i7). it's not that i'm against zoscar, but neither of em are my favorite characters and it's scary writing historical figure rpf especially when i don't know much about the figure lol— in general, for rusty quill gaming, i'd rather write about the party and the non-historical npcs! as for tamasou, it's part the age gap but mostly that i just think they're most interesting platonically and can't really view them as romantic. i'll still write about mezzo"!

-romance not being my specialty doesn't apply to yukimomo and ryoumomo. i am obsessed with yukimomo and ryoumomo

-i'm down for writing non-fandom crack fic! technically, my first commission was of a friend of mine drinking mouthwash and meeting hatsune miku LOL (which technically makes it fandom, but trust it was pure crack 🙏) however, i won't write any political satire or rpf

-same with non-fandom ocs; just add the oc and 'complex au' cost, be willing to give me a lot of information (i'd like a bit of prose or a comic or something to get a handle on speech patterns and dynamics and stuff, as well as the background info— unless you don't care lol), and i'll write a story about ur personal blorbos!

-anything below 1,000 words is still a flat price of $15, OR you can add drabbles together— pay $6 for a 200 word story, etc

-i won't send drafts in progress because that's not my working pattern; except when it comes to checking the IC-ness of ocs and self-inserts, which is part of the reason for the extra charge

thank you very much if you commission me :D

#fic commissions #idolish7 #the mechanisms #misvil #blue lock #alien stage #whump #scared to tag gintama cause i have no gintama fics published lol but i think of it often #gintama #tgcf #svsss #i'll also write for trials of apollo its another 'small fandom— didn't make it on' but toa makes up a big percentage of my current ao3 work #chitra.txt #my writing

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

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Cause of Action 2

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Your first week is tame. Boring, even. Your desk mates are quiet and cold. They barely even talk to each other. You suppose they have a lot of work to do, a lot more serious work than you. Your own tasks are rather tedious but menial nonetheless.

You find your sight blurring as you scroll through a case brief. You have your elbow on your desk, cupping your chin at your mindless perusal. The subtle click of the mechanism slips through your trance but doesn’t quite register. It isn’t until a dark shape stands in your peripheral that you finally break your near-comatose state.

“Mr. Barber,” you greet, barely able to conceal your surprise, “hi.”

“Just checking in,” he says as he rests his hand on the cubicle wall, “and I had a favour to ask you.”

“Uh, sure,” you keep your hand on your mouse, tapping the wheel nervously.

“Think you could start late tomorrow? You’ll see in the calendar there’s a late meeting and I won’t be in until noon anyway,” he explains, his free hand hooks on his belt. He does that, he stands like a disapproving dad and it makes your bones rattle.

“Right, uh, yeah, I can do that.”

“Great,” he smacks the cubicle wall and it shakes just a little, “you grab a donut from the break room?”

“Donut?” You pique at the mention of sugar, “oh, well… I’m tryna cut back.”

“That’s too bad. I got ‘em from this place about a block down. They’re great. I love the boston creams but the crullers aren’t bad either.”

“Hmmm, maybe at lunch,” you shrug, “thanks, Mr. Barber.”

“No problem, just a little pick me up for the office,” he looks around as the office drones continue on without acknowledgement. “I’ll let you get back to it then.”

“Alright,” you smile and swivel back to your screen.

He lingers for a moment before he strides off. You glance over as he enters the break room. The smell of coffee soon stirs in the air and makes your stomach grumble.

“Eh, could use another cup,” Marnie sighs but makes no move to fulfill her wishes.

You ponder a second coffee but think better of it. Caffeine usually has you addled and you’re already restless sitting around at a computer. You refocus on the case brief as Mr. Barber’s shadow approaches the door.

It’s strange. He seems so nice but the rest of this place is so miserable. Well, it is work.

📓

The late start to your day throws everything off. By the time you get to the office, you’re exhausted already. You couldn’t sleep in despite your efforts so much of your morning was spent in anticipation of starting work.

As you get to work Marnie is on her lunch and Taylor is huffing at his phone screen. He tends to be on that more than his computer. Mr. Barber greets you in passing as he appears with a cup of coffee. He retreats to his office as you settle in at your desk. There’s a small container waiting for you with a note.

‘Hope it’s not stale.’

You flick the post-it and tilt the container to see through the clear plastic. A donut dressed up with graham crumble and what appears to be strawberry jam. It looks delicious and dangerously high in calories. Still, a nice gesture. You would feel bad to reject it.

You get started, the day dragging by as usual. You pick away at the donut, trying hard not to get any crumbs or gooeyness on your keyboard. You get a few messages from Mr. Barber about new tasks but he’s mostly cloistered in his office, explaining that he’s on calls all day.

Marnie packs up first, then Taylor. Once they’re gone, the office takes on an eerie hue with the dimming sky outside. The tinted yellow bulbs do little to ease the ambiance. You clack on keys ambivalently, all caught up and anxious.

The door clicks and you spin to face your boss. You have no chill left.

“Oh, hi,” he buttons his jacket, “uh, you ready?”

“Ready? I thought the meeting was here?”

“No, uh, my client changed his plans,” he checks his watch, “you’ll get overtime for the extra hours.”

“Um, alright,” you stand up and stretch out your legs. Mr. Barber nears as you grab your purse and swipe up your phone from the top of your desk. “That’s fine, I guess.”

“Sorry, I know it’s weird hours but the guy’s not exactly a negotiator. Hence why he hired me.”

“No problem. I signed up for it, right?”

“I like that attitude,” he grins, “so, you like the donut?”

He peeks over at the empty container forgotten beside your monitor. You push your shoulders up and bite the inside of your lip.

“Yeah, very sweet,” you say, “thanks.”

“I’ve never had the strawberry so I’ll take your word for it,” he gestures you ahead of him towards the door, “better get going.”

“Sure.”

You lead the way and he locks the door behind him. He follows you down the narrow stairs as you cling to the banister. Your heels make the descent treacherous.

As you come out under the greying sky, Andy exhales heavily and checks his watch again. “I’ll drive.”

“Oh, uh, thanks, Mr. Barber,” you utter. You assumed it might have been just down the block. The mystery of it all is frustrating. You should’ve checked the calendar.

“Andy’s fine,” he corrects, “for tonight. Oh and a bit of advice, you don’t have to put up with my client. He says anything untoward, you let me know.”

He guides you down to a dark car parked by a meter. You near the passenger’s side and watch him come up the other.

“Should I be worried?” You ask.

“No, but he can be… direct.”

“Ah, right,” you nod, “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Nice girl like you, I’m sure it will be,” he agrees as the locks slide back noisily.

He opens his door and sits in the driver’s seat. You get in and buckle up as he checks his mirrors and fiddles with a few switches. He seems almost more anxious than you.

“I won’t feel so out of place with you around,” he remarks as he puts his signal on and looks over his shoulder.

“Oh?”

“You’ll see,” he girds as he pulls out.

You wish he would just tell you where you’re going but you’re too embarrassed to ask. If he knew you didn’t even bother to check the calendar, it might not look so good on you. And you need him to give you a glowing reference. You can’t have the only experience on your resume be tainted by your own carelessness.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #drabble #au #defending jacob #the club #series #cause of action

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monstersinthecosmos · 1 year ago

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but now the cosmos crawls with monsters

KACY. 30s. She/They.

This blog contains adult content, please do not follow if you are a minor.

hi friends! I'm Kacy, I write fanfiction! I like ducks and heavy metal! I mostly use this space to talk about The Vampire Chronicles, but I also like Sheith, and horror films, and kink theory! I am an asexual porn writer and I'm obsessed with Marius!

LINKS

AO3 - I am monstersinthecosmos on AO3, I write porn about VC, Sheith, and sometimes YOI!

Bsky - kacycarr on bsky - you will find mostly Sheithing here!

Ko-Fi - feel free to buy me a coffee if you like my fics! I have some fics available for purchase in digital download and paperback! I will also invite you to check out projects I created & co-mod called @vamptember (vampire prompts during the month of September!) and @priapus-at-the-gate (the VC Kink Meme!) VC STUFF!

I mostly use this space to talk about VC since the fandom is either dead or toxic as fuck on other platforms. I've been into VC since like THE YEAR 2000 LOL. I had fics that got taken down in the FFnet purge! Ancient! Marius is my favorite character and I'm more partial to Marius subplots/timelines. I'm also really into the Devil's Minion and Trinity Gate! I'm super into whatever the fuck was going on with Marius & Daniel! I could talk about Armand all fucking day! Pandora is my hero! Please expect posts about these things! I didn't love the AMC adaptation so I don't talk about it very often, because I try to focus on stuff I enjoy. ♡ TAGS

#stuff i wrote - IT'S FOR STUFF I WROTE. contains fics and discussion of fics. if they're very short they might only be on Tumblr and not on AO3.

#deep ass thoughts about vampires - my meta tag, sorry I came up with the name while I was stoned back in 2016 and I'm too lazy to change it :)

#trauma hole theory - if you want even DEEPER ass thoughts about vampires, this is where I park thoughts related to "do vampires have neuroplasticity?" and "would therapy even work on them?" #asexual vc - I don't really shut the fuck up about vampires being asexual so if you wanna hear about it CLICK HERE

#simple italian perv - MISC SMUTTY THOUGHTS to keep the rent low lol if you're new here I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me

#the skateboard of shakespeare - I visited Tulane last year and documented a ton of info from the Anne Rice collection! I use this tag when I share! #vampire chronicles- for book stuff!

#vampire pajama party on amc - this is my tag for the AMC show; I'm not a big fan of it so please feel free to mute if you don't want to see salt posts. (I have a second, even saltier tag called #the rolin jonestown massacre if you want to mute that one as well!)

#devils minion girlies - STILL WORKING HARD TO POPULATE THIS TAG but if you like thinking about Armand & Daniel as lesbians please see this tag. #unethical marius - I've been really obsessed lately with thinking about an AU where Marius is an unethical therapist LOLLL please feel free to peruse or mute as needed. #vampire music - I have like a ND relationship to music and I love sharing it even if no one else cares and taste is subjective but if you ever want vampirey music recs they will be here :D #fandom lolitics - I try not to share too much discourse & drama but it's here if you want to mute it! #vcficfriday - when I have time & remember to I like to share fics I've read on Fridays!!!! Please feel free to use this tag in your own blog as well, to build up fic writers!

I THINK THAT COVERS IT, FELLAS, please be kind to each other and don't be shy to send me asks if you have any questions!

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madhogthymaster · 8 months ago

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Master Recs: Webcomics (Vol. 1)

I enjoy webcomics. I like being exposed to accessible art, to witness the evolution of artists and storytellers who bring their individual viewpoints to the table, expressing themselves through the medium of free comic books! I spend an inordinate amount of leisure time perusing the old sequential literature. As a result, I follow a ton of people that would give it to me. Now, I wish to recommend a few of these works from my constantly expanding list. I shall begin with a small taster of five, currently ongoing projects to wet your appetite. Let us go.

Preeny Has to Repeat 6th Grade by Jasmine Coté

Preeny is a brush-tailed kitty, fluffy both in appearance and personality, and she might just be the Chosen One to save the world from Darkness – as it is often the case. This comic vaunts a peculiar shtick: the setting is populated by adoptable furry OCs the artist has bought from DeviantArt kids, effectively creating a Kingdom Hearts style fictional universe for the Mid-2000's Sparkledog subculture. This works both as a unique selling point and as a clever metatextual conceit that informs the themes of the story, which is an earnest celebration of creativity, childhood and self-expression, untainted by the cynicism of "You Posted Cringe." It's funny, cute, sincere and it hits you right in the feelings.

HELLO FROM HALO HEAD by Batshaped

The author describes it as "An exploration of the multitudes a person experiences as a response to trauma. Also cartoon animal adventures. I promise it's mostly funny. it's a trauma comedy! a TRAUMEDY!!!!" Indeed, I would say it's an apt summary. The strip began life as a series of Animal Crossing fan comics which would eventually spin into a darkly humorous, twisted yet oddly wholesome deconstruction of kinks and emotional repression. Soon enough, it was rebooted and morphed into the understated, original masterpiece that it is today. Every page oozes with ethereal colours, a delicate yet decisive trait and subtle foreshadowing as a yet unclear narrative starts taking shape behind the surface of "cartoon animal adventures." A rewarding read for those who enjoy to obsess over every detail and pick apart allegories. It's the Thinking Man's TRAUMEDY, if you will.

Haus of Decline: Gay Comics by Haus of Decline

Sometimes, all you need to create a widely appealing classic is a good set-up, a punchline and impeccable comedic timing, all of which encapsulated into the confines of a traditional 4-panel strip. Actually, now that I have typed it, that is one of the most difficult crafts to master. Haus of Decline is a ubiquitous work that has managed to achieve the coveted "Meme Status", swimming in the immediate periphery of your Internet experience. You might be aware of it thanks to that one Steven Universe joke that stands tall as the most succinct and accurate parody of that show. As of right now, I am yet to encounter a single strip that isn't a comedic slam dunk or at least chuckle worthy. If you enjoy a spoonful of irreverent, queer, scatological, sometimes personal humour in your breakfast bowl than this is the cereal box for you!

Molly's Future Mishaps by Peyton Partyhorn

It's the year 2000, the Earth has blown up. Right before that, humans managed to send a rocket full of sea slugs to Europa, one of Jupiter's satellites. It is now the year 3000 on Europa. Molly the slug meets Jo, a sea bunny time traveller from the year 4000. After a soda-related debacle, they both wind up at the end of Time itself. The titular mishaps ensue. Molly's Future Mishaps presents an overly complex amalgamation of premises, each more outlandish than the last, that lays the foundation for what is, in essence, a straightforward character-driven piece. It explores a group of people attempting to finagle their way across Life, their feelings, anxieties, societal pressure, self-worth, many "What If's" and "What Could Have Been's", with timey wimey shenanigans serving as the backdrop for their reasonably scoped adventures. Their personal and interpersonal journeys keep the bizarre, somewhat nonsensical nature of the Universe grounded in a familiar space - in a manner not too dissimilar to that of a Douglas Adams' novel. In truth, the initial run of the comic mostly focuses on comedic high jinks, which tend to be hit or miss, but the writing improves dramatically when it starts exploring the characters' psychology and emotional hang ups. For me, personally, the turning point was the (inevitable) Time Loop arc, which I enjoyed for reasons that will become obvious if you know about my feelings for In Stars and Time. In short: this comic has a high-stakes Absurdist/Existential Sci-Fi premise that belies a refreshingly "Down-to-Europa" story about a bunch of 20-something cartoon slugs. It's relatable!

Dolmistaska by AngusBurgers

In many ways, this one defies description. You should just go read it. Seriously, go read it! It's great! Exceptionally well-drawn too! It looks like an underground Punk comic from thirty years ago. It lures you in with the understated intrigue of its unclear premise, its oppressing atmosphere, environmental storytelling, savvy use of lighting and shading, before dropping everything on you all at once. The protagonist is a non-binary cat person with gremlin energy and a knack for vehicle-related heists. Read it. You'll thank me later.

---

That would be all for now. There might be more webcomic recommendations in the future, whenever inspiration shall strike - or I get in a writing mood. Thanks for reading... and happy further reading!

---

[VOLUME 2] [VOLUME 3]

Follow Madhog on:

YouTube

Twitter

Bluesky

Blogger

Also, here's a helpful website: https://arab.org/

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merklins · 6 months ago

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ARTFIGHT HAS STARTED FOLKS!!!!!

You can find me, Merin Merklins, NOW on Team Seafoam! I don't actually have a lot of my characters up because I'm mostly here to attack other people, BUT!! Feel free to take a peruse! You might find someone you like ehehe

#m scribbles #m Sona

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foxyarchive · 6 months ago

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Glass in the Ocean[P3]

You find yourself visiting the shore again for… Whatever reason.

- thank you all again for your support!! apologies for the somewhat late chapter, had a family emergency to take care of. If you all have any questions about more of my mer lore, feel free to drop me an ask! i'll be sprinkling more tidbits as the story goes along, but i'm always open to receiving asks and talking about it more! helps me to world build too hehe Cross-Posted on AO3!

Warnings: Mentions of self harm(NOT for the reader or anyone else; Mentioned in reader's passing thoughts regarding a situation) Words: ~5.8k Tags in the comments! Ask to be added to the taglist! P1 | P2 | P3

You head back up the stairs, put away everything you don’t need inside, put the key in your bike, and are off to the town. It’s a Wednesday, so it’s fairly quiet. There’s tourists, of course, but you know it’s not bustling like it would be on the weekends. Still, you need to traverse carefully around people, trying not to barrel into anyone or knock them over. It’s not very often you ride a bike around, so you’re getting your sea legs back, so to speak.

The first few shops you visit are grocery. There’s only a couple, but you’re sure to take a note of what they keep in stock, and what you may need to order from elsewhere. The next places are for clothing. Everything is fairly expensive, to no surprise, but there’s some cheaper options too for more practical items. You can’t help but to buy a beautiful flowing gown, and although it’s pricey, you’re excited to wear it at some point. After that, you find a shop that helps to supply your grandparents with a few things they needed for their own business. You stop by to say hello to your grandmother as she runs her shop. You’d asked if she’d wanted help, but she just insisted you look around more, so you continued on your way.

You finally just let yourself peruse the various shops, grabbing some lunch after looking at the important ones first. Thankfully, it wasn’t all seafood that was served at every single place. There was definitely some variety, which you were grateful for. It was finally late afternoon when you decided to head back. You’d picked up a few things at the grocer to cook for dinner, including a little box of chocolate covered seafoam candy. You took it slow, trying to adjust to having items in your basket. The bike was electric, so thankfully it was a little more sturdy, but it still had a bit of a pull when you would turn certain ways.

Arriving back home, you found your eyes once more drifting to the ocean. All quiet. Not a single sign of mers. You were beginning to wonder if you had dreamt about the entire thing– Both encounters. You felt relatively calm around the whole thing, now, thankfully. Maybe talking with Connor had put you at ease… Then you remembered his brother. The one from today. You shuddered a bit at the thought. He looked like he was more than willing to eat you if there was nothing else around. Yep, definitely not swimming anytime soon.

After securing the bike, you walked inside, beginning to work on cooking the tilapia and vegetables you’d bought. You turned on some music while you worked, humming along to the beat as you chopped and sauced everything. You were used to being alone, doing the same routine like this almost nightly. It could definitely be a lonely lifestyle, but it was one you didn’t really mind. You had so much freedom with it, after all.

Your grandmother was home by the time you had finished cooking dinner, and you set everything down on the table. “This smells delicious, dear, thank you. Where did you learn to cook?” She asks as you settle down as well, cutting a piece of fish off with your fork.

“Little from mom, mostly from online videos.” You admit, taking a bite of your meal with a pleased hum. The fish was so fresh and tender. It was actually probably one of the best pieces of fish you’d cooked in your life, and you could only assume part of it was due to it being so local. Your grandmother took a bite as well, a pleased hum leaving her lips as she swallowed, offering you a smile.

“Well, I’ll say, this is excellent! If you do move in here, consider rent paid with dinner. This is as good as where we ate last night.” She beams, and you laugh, feeling your cheeks heat up at the compliment.

“Please, this isn’t as good as your food.” You tease, and she just chuckles with a shake of her head as she goes in for another mouthful. “Did you get a lot of people in the shop today?” You ask, eating some more, and she offers a resigned sigh after she swallows.

“A little more than normal, but a lot of it was condolences because of the service. I will say, I think it did increase sales output. Thank goodness you’re here, we’re very much going to need to restock soon.” She murmurs, shaking her head again as you merely smile.

“It’s why I’m here. I think maybe we should do some work here tomorrow, then open for the weekend, then close for a couple of days to restock what we can.” You suggest, and she contemplates your idea while chewing.

“I think that’s an excellent idea, dear. Yes, let’s do that.” She agrees, and you beam at the prospect of a good suggestion before the both of you finish up your dinner. You both clean up, and although your grandmother is talking, you find your mind wandering. And it’s wandering back down to the water. There’s a certain draw it’s beginning to have now, which is both a little confusing and concerning for you. You try to push it out of your mind, wondering why your brain is insistent on going back towards danger, but it seems that you can’t ignore it. Soon enough, you find yourself with a small, portable light in your hand, your earbuds, and your box of candy as you head back down to the beach.

You head back over to where you were earlier. It’s dusk, the last of the orange in the sky beginning to fade out. Thankfully, the light you have provides plenty in its soft glow. You unroll the towel tucked under your arm, setting it down as you sit cross legged on it. You slip your now cleaned earbuds in, turning on some music as you watch the water and open your box of candy. You truly do wonder why your body is craving the sensation of sitting by the ocean so suddenly, despite the fear of what had just happened, and you realized that it’s probably because you’re trying to work through the trauma. Your mind is certainly crafty, putting you close to things you fear.

You munch on your second sweet, nearly jumping into the air as something breaks the surface of the water. There’s a wide smile on his face, and you almost think it’s Connor, for a second. The more muted blue of the tail, though, gives the fact away that it’s definitely his brother. You can feel your heart rate pick up a bit, but you’re uncertain whether it’s out of fear, or… Or what? Surely it must just be from being startled.

You take out your earbuds, setting them on the towel as you see he’s trying to talk to you. He says your name, and it’s a little surprising, only to realize that Connor must have passed it along. “You came back down; I knew you would. Connor had his doubts, but I didn’t doubt you for a second.” He smirks, pulling himself up on the shore a bit. You find yourself subconsciously shifting backwards, despite the length between you two, but don’t make a move or comment yet. His eyes catch onto the bandages wrapped around your ankle, and the mirth on his face seems to fall a bit. You can see something akin to remorse flash on his features in the soft light, and you wait for an apology, but instead he just says, “Connor said you both talked earlier. You’re practically friends now, right?” He’s looking cocky again, lips curling up as he rolls onto his stomach.

You don’t know how to feel. An apology would be nice, but you’re not sure you’re getting one. You set your lips in a thin line, not looking particularly pleased as you answer, “I think ‘acquaintances’ is a better term, and even that is pushing it.” You admit, and he just chuckles, rolling his eyes as his tail briefly flicks up from the water.

“Sure, sure. My name’s Sixty, by the way.” He says, and you raise a brow at the peculiar name. You’d expected something like Connor’s, not… A number.

“How’d you get it?” You ask, and he just shrugs.

“It’s the only name I remember I was given. Connor was given Fifty, but he decided to change his name. Nines was Ninety, which I think he’s attached to as well, considering he didn’t fully rename himself, but he just purely goes by Nines now.” The confusion is evident on your face at his explanation. These were all… Numbers. A name he was given… A sudden thought crosses your mind.

“Were you in captivity?” You ask, frowning slightly, and Sixty seems to grow a bit defensive at the question. He just scoffs, rolling his shoulders.

“No.” He says, sounding offended. There’s quiet, then a soft, “Maybe.” Your frown deepens a bit, and you can’t help the sympathetic wave that shoots through you. You know that mers that are held captive are, more often than not, used for study and experimentation. There’s a few put into aquariums, but if they’re not highly drugged, there’s a pretty good chance they find a way to kill themselves in the first couple weeks. You wonder what their case was. “Doesn’t matter.” He says, brusquely, moving on as he then asks you a question. “What are you eating?” He leans forward a bit, as if it would give him a better look.

“Seafoam candy.” You respond, and bemusement instantly crosses over his face.

“What’s that? Does it have chocolate?” His eyes suddenly light up, and you blink at the new air about him.

“Yes. Does your human not give you chocolate?” You ask, and he wrinkles his nose at your phrasing.

“He’s not ‘our human’. He doesn’t own us.” He scoffs, and you put your hands up a bit, placatingly. “He doesn’t give us human sweets, though. One time, he gave some to us when we were younger. It made Nines very sick, so he doesn’t feed us a lot of human food anymore. Afraid it’s going to hurt us, even though I keep insisting it’s going to be fine.” He rolls his eyes, and you’re suddenly unsure, now, if you even want to feed him anything. He can spot the uncertainty in your gaze, and he just groans, flopping onto his side. “Come ooon. Don’t be like him. Give me a piece. Please?” He begs, rolling back up, using those goddamn puppy eyes you fell for this time.

Except, now, you were far away from him. And if you gave this to him, the only person it could harm is himself, so… You were willing to take that gamble. Not like you wanted to see him get sick, but… He had hurt you. You were petty, alright? “Fine.” You declare, and his smile widens as you pick out a piece and toss it to him. He catches it with surprising deftness, rolling onto his back as he peers at it with what you assume is awe on his face. With it being dark, now, and him being so far, it’s a little hard to tell.

He pops the whole thing into his mouth, his eyes widening in surprise as he chews. He rolls back onto his stomach, making a face the more he chews, and you’re not entirely certain he likes it. He finally swallows, and sticks his tongue out, lip curling up a bit, before you can see his cheeks puff out a bit as he tries to likely get the candy out from between his teeth. “Thish ish– Chocolate?” He glowers, nose scrunched up, and you can’t help but to softly giggle at the sight.

“Only the outside shell was. The inside is made of sugar, vinegar and corn syrup. They make it in a way where it’s kind of fluffy and spongy. It’s sort of supposed to be a mix of a meringue and toffee and kinda honeycomb… Not like you know what any of those are, probably.” You sigh out, realizing you’re just beginning to waste your breath. He’s still trying to get the substance out from his teeth, and hisses in annoyance, an irritable click leaving his throat. You only feel a little bad as you watch his frustrations, amusement coming to your own face as well, now. He even goes as far as to roll away and back into the water, and you take the time to open your phone and look through it.

A couple minutes later he pops back up, his nose scrunched up. “Yeah. That sucked. I don’t wanna try that again. Can you bring me just chocolate next time?” He asks, and you blink at the forward request, a little surprised.

“Who said anything about a next time? I don’t live here, after all.” You say, and it’s his turn to look surprised.

“You don’t? I thought you just moved here.” He asks, glancing up towards your current residence. It’s a little far away, still, but you can barely see part of it over the hill where the balcony is.

“No. I’m just here temporarily.” You reply, and you can see his body almost deflate at the information.

“Oh.” His voice is flat, and there’s a look on his face which you can determine is likely disappointment. It raises your next question.

“Why did you bother me yesterday? I know you guys like to be secretive. What pushed you into waking me up?” You ask, eyeing him intently now, but it’s Sixty’s turn to be unable to meet your gaze. He squirms a bit, back on his stomach, pushing a few strands of wet hair out of his face that just inevitably fall back into their spot.

“I don’t know.” He admits, and you feel frustration start to mount in you, now. Connor had given the same answer. “It’s hard to explain, but I just… It felt like something was pushing me to do it. I swam by, peeked out, saw you, caught your scent, and I… I just knew I needed to talk to you.” He’s still frowning, as if he’s confused by this whole phenomena too. He looks back to you, and you don’t quite know how to feel. You didn’t think he was lying. He didn’t seem to be. It felt like a flimsy excuse, though.

“What if I went and told someone?” You couldn’t help but to ask, voice quiet. His tone holds an equally quiet note as he replies.

“You didn’t, though, did you?” There’s a hint of a challenge in his eyes, giving you a pause before you speak again. He’s right. You didn’t. Deep down, too, you knew you probably still wouldn’t.

“How long have you all been here for?” You ask, uncrossing your legs as they begin to ache. You let your ankles cross over one another, mindful of your scratched up one.

“Few years. Four, I think.” He replies, seeming to relax just a bit more. “It’s nice, this area. You don’t get a whole lot of explorers down here, even if it’s considered safe, just because of the residences along the coast. Namely, yours.” He admits, jerking his head back towards where your grandmother’s house is there. That house is the first along the scattered line. “So, then. Why are you ‘temporarily’ here?” The word has a certain inflection to it, like he’s not quite sure he believes you. Not like you care, but you find it a little funny.

“I’m helping my grandmother for a while. My grandfather just recently passed away.” You explain, and there’s a bit of confusion on his features. Oh, right. You’re not sure what phrases they’re aware of. “He died.” You correct, and the look drops to more of a brief stint of pain.

“I’m sorry to hear that. So you’re not here visiting, then, like everyone else.” He waves a hand towards the town, and you shake your head.

“No, I’m not a tourist. I’m going to help her run her shop until she can find someone to help her more permanently.” You state, and he looks confused once again at your statement, making you wonder what you should have worded differently.

“Why don’t you just help her permanently?” He asks. Ah, that makes more sense. Mers were very family inclined. Their pods could get quite large due to it, sometimes up to the twenties; Rarely the thirties.

“Well, I have a career.” You start to explain, letting a hand drift down and settle in the sand. “I’ve spent a good chunk of my adult life trying to get to where I am now. It’s not so easy to just leave that and pursue something like this.”

“I mean. Sounds pretty easy to me.” Sixty shrugs, flopping onto his back. You see his fin squish out on the side of his back, and he tucks his arms behind his head, tilting it back a bit to peer at you. “Humans are flippant.”

“That’s a big word.” You find yourself teasing, gently. It catches you off guard, but it doesn't bother him. If anything, it just makes his smile bigger. Clearly, you’re beginning to grow more relaxed. You don’t know how you feel about that.

“Yeah, yeah, fish brain. I’m serious, though. I hear humans will just leave and start anew all the time. I hear they can have whole families and abandon them on a whim for something– Or someone– Else.” His lips curl in distaste at the thought, and you grimace, peering down at your toes.

“You’re… Not wrong. Not all humans are like that, though. A lot are very loyal. Whether it’s to their spouse, or job, or family, or even their pet. I know if I had a cat or something, and my house was on fire, I don’t think I’d leave until I knew it was safe.” You comment. Sixty eyes you, a curious look on his upside down face, before he rolls over onto his front.

“You say that not all humans are like that, and yet you were so quick to assume yesterday that I was going to hurt you.” He states. You feel your cheeks heat up a bit at the implication, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say because he’s right. You had just made assumptions based on all of the data gathered.

“I-I mean–” you stutter, and another smirk plasters itself on his face as he sees your clear discomfort. You’re certainly not an innocent party, but neither is he. “You nearly proved my assumptions by dragging me into the water!” You counter, and he just scoffs and rolls his eyes, tail flicking from the water once more only to loudly slap down on it.

“You’re still on that? You know I wasn’t going to actually hurt you.” He counters, and any embarrassment you were feeling has begun to give way to irritation.

“No, actually, I didn’t know that! You were exhibiting all the signs of a mer who was trying to lure me in and drown me!” You snip out, feeling your metaphorical feathers bristling at his insistence.

“And what, may I ask, are those signs?” He grins, resting his head in his hand as he peers at you from afar.

“You were being nice, which is a huge red flag right from the getgo from a mer to a human,” You start, holding out your hand and counting with your fingers. “You offered to help me. You asked me about myself. You tried to gain my trust. Need I go on?” The statement is finished with an annoyed flourish of your hands, before you slap them back down onto your thighs. He clicks his tongue, raising an unimpressed brow.

“Really? That’s what humans assume we’re doing when we want to gnaw on someone?” He asks, voice flat, and your frown mars further across your lips.

“Yes. It’s literally proven data.” You counter.

“By who?” Comes his own counter.

“By those who have been dragged to sea by mers.”

“You mean the people who are dead?”

You open your mouth. Then close it. He has a point…

“I assume by those who were attacked and lived to tell the tale.” You bite out, and he sneers.

“There you go. Assuming again. Is that a typical human trait?” He tilts his head to the side, and you’ve found that your patience has officially ran out. It’s getting late now, anyways, and you’re sitting here talking to a mer. Sixty laughs a bit, and good Lord it’s way too charming. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“I’m done.” You announce, abruptly getting to your feet. You tuck your earbuds and phone away, grabbing your towel and whip the sand off of it.

“Oh, come on, we were just getting started! It isn’t even moonhigh yet!” He counters as you roll up your towel, tucking it back under your arm, grabbing up your boxed candy shortly after.

“Goodnight.” You say, turning and marching off without even looking at him.

“Come back soon, okay? And come swim! I won’t drag you out again, I promise! It’ll be a lotta fun!” He calls after you, and you just roll your eyes. No shot that was happening.

Despite your stubborn demeanor as you try to forget about the mers while getting settled for bed, you find that they just won’t leave your mind once you’re settled beneath your covers. Connor’s pleasant, polite demeanor. Sixty’s snarky, but funny attitude. Then, there was Nines… Although he was a complete mystery to you, and only regarded you with cold, untrusting stares… You couldn’t help but to think about him as well. You wondered if he was like either of his brothers; He certainly didn’t seem like that. It was clear he spent a lot more time underwater than the two of them, given the complexion of his skin tone. Perhaps you’d be able to actually talk with him one day.

You nearly slapped a palm to your forehead. Why were you wanting to actually converse more with mers? They were dangerous creatures! They were going through an awful lot of trouble to try and butter you up for a meal, though… Maybe that was because they couldn’t get too close to the town, and he mentioned others never wandered out here. You just happened to be the first idiot that did in a long while. You wondered how long they’d been wanting to taste human meat.

Then, you thought about the supposed human that had helped to take care of them. The one you weren’t supposed to know about. He lived not too far, apparently. Maybe one of these days you could take a trip out, try and figure out who it was, and talk to him. Get a better feeling for the brothers. After all, if they weren’t lying, and this guy actually vouched for them… Maybe, perhaps, things could be different. You highly doubted this man would be trying to trick and feed humans to mers, after all. He’d have nothing to get out of it.

You turned over in your bed with a sigh, closing your eyes to will yourself to sleep. It finally did come, and although your dreams were a little cryptic with flashes of you swimming and beings swirling around you, they weren’t nightmare inducing. You woke up early that morning, earlier than normal. Although still bleary with sleep, you decided to get up and start your day off with a nice breakfast and some work.

You think about making a big enough breakfast for yourself and your grandmother, but scrolling through your emails on your phone makes you think otherwise as you see how much there is to deal with. Resigned, you grab some fruit salad from yesterday, make some toast and coffee, and call it good as you settle on the dining room table. You open up your computer, munching as you scroll through and answer emails. The work is mind numbing, and you sit there for an hour and a half just doing that until your grandmother comes out to make herself some breakfast and coffee as well. She tells you that you that she wants to get started in an hour and a half, which gives you time to catch up on more work.

…Except, after another half hour of whittling away at it, you can’t help but to let your eyes gravitate towards the window. The sparkling ocean greets you in the early morning, a slight fog settling over it. Still, you feel a certain pull towards it that you definitely hadn’t before. Not to swim, but to just… Be around it. You think about the mer brothers, and you feel something squeeze in your chest at the thought. You were trying to distance yourself more from them, but to your surprise and slight horror, you found it was actually becoming difficult. It seemed, now, that you actually wanted to seek them out. You lightly tapped your thumb on the spacebar of your laptop, chewing on your lip.

Just a quick trip. You decided, getting to your feet. You closed your computer, changing into something you’d wear for the rest of the day. You glanced at a couple pieces of leftover fruit in your bowl, and decided to bring it with you. The thought crossed your mind; Had any of them ever had fruit before? They must have. After all, fruit was considered healthy, and you were sure that their human friend gave them such. Plus, this was fruit salad. It had a dressing on it. Why you were even thinking too hard on this was really beyond you, or why you were heading down barefoot to the beach with that bowl in your hand was just something beyond your comprehension. It was clearly happening, though. You wondered if anyone would even be out this early… Connor was yesterday. What were the odds of them skulking around two days in a row, though?

Heading back to your usual spot, you managed to catch a glimpse of something in the water, quite far from where you were. It was a faint shimmer of something, a little difficult to see with the mild fog that spread across. As you kneeled down in the sand, though, you could see another flicker once more. Something crested. Was that a tail? You were certain it was. Your suspicions were confirmed, true, as moments later you saw a body swim in the shallow water, breaking the surface shortly after. The more vibrant tail colors immediately tipped you off to it being Connor, and he offered you a bright grin. It was infectious, you insisted, as you smiled back. He said your name, looking quite pleased to see you here. “What brings you down here this morning?” He asks, and that’s when you find yourself short on an answer. Why were you here?

“I… Guess I just felt like coming down and watching the sunrise.” You admit. It’s not a full lie. The sun is still rising; It’s only seven in the morning, after all.

“It’s a little difficult to see it today.” Connor admits, frowning somewhat as he glances back over the ocean, still lightly shrouded in mist. “I’m still glad you’re here, though.” He looks back, smiling once more, and the shy smile returns to your face with a faint heat coming to your cheeks. “What’s that you have?” He asks, curious as he eyes the bowl in your hand. Right, you’d nearly forgotten about it.

“It's a fruit salad. Would you like to try a piece?” You offer, watching him perk up similarly to how Sixty had last night.

“Yes, please.” He responds, eagerly. You take a piece out of the bowl– A nice thick apple chunk– And toss it his way. He’s quick like Sixty is, watching with a sharp eye and snatching the fruit out of the air. He takes a moment to sniff it, before giving it a curious lick, and finally pops it into his mouth. His eyes widen as he chews on it, an appreciative hum coming from his chest. “I’ve never had a fruit that tastes like that before.” He admits after he swallows, peering back at you, an eager look in his eyes for more. “What was it?”

“It was just an apple, but it’s covered in a dressing. It’s yogurt, vanilla, and a little bit of marshmallow.” You explain, and you can faintly see the fin on his back quiver.

“Can I… Have more? Please?” He asks, a little shyly, and you look down at the bowl. There’s still a few pieces left. You’re about to pick up another one, before you find yourself pausing. You glance to him, and then the bowl, before slowly getting to your feet. Connor watches your every move, his eye widening a bit, but you can see a certain sharpness to them that wasn’t there before. Now, you’re suddenly uncertain of who is more wary of the other. He’d seemed so kind yesterday, and today as well, but this doesn’t make you forget that he’s a wild sea creature who’s ready to bite at any second. You’re certain that he doesn’t forget you’re a human, either, who killed many of his kind. It was obvious who had the upperhand in this situation, but despite how friendly he was, there would probably always be that constant reminder between you both about who you each were.

At the very least, though, he didn’t look primed to attack. His muscles were tense, sure, but it was clear he intended to flee at the very moment of danger. For some reason, the thought made your chest ache just a bit. Perhaps you didn’t want him to be afraid of you, but… You hadn’t extended the same courtesy to them. Maybe that’s why, against all of your gut instinct, you found yourself shuffling a bit closer. His eyes never left your body, occasionally flicking up to meet your own. Tepid and uncertain, but not afraid. You were standing about five feet away from him when you came to a halt. Your heart was beginning to race as you thought about him grabbing onto your wrist. Dragging you into the water like his brother had. Only this time, there definitely would not be any saving, because Connor had been your savior. He certainly could be your doom as well.

With a somewhat hesitant, shaky hand, you offered him the bowl. He looked at you, then the bowl, and slowly reached out. You couldn’t help but to flinch back a bit as his hand raised up, which instantly caused him to recoil. His arm curled in, and he bit his lip, blinking apologetically. “Sorry.” You found yourself murmuring, trying to steel your nerves as you held the bowl back out to him. You remembered his vow. They didn’t kill or eat humans. Really, that remained to be seen, but you were chancing it right now. Again. You just didn’t learn, did you?

Your arm extended once more, and you kept yourself from flinching as his did, too. You held the lip of the bowl, and he cupped it with his hand. Gosh, he was so large. It was certainly intimidating. Bright, sharp, intelligent eyes that watched your every move as you let go, immediately taking a few steps back. You released the breath you’d been holding, and some of the tension appeared to meld away from both of your bodies. Connor peered down at the bowl, tilting his head to observe the pieces of fruit left inside. He’d delicately pick each piece up, examine it, before eating it. He seemed to grow more and more enthralled with every piece he ate, but alas, there were only a few pieces left. He was soon out, a disappointed look crossing his features as he settled down.

“That was really good. There was this… Really sweet undertone to it. Something a little more overpowering than other pieces. I really liked it. What was that?” He asks you, curious, as he holds the bowl back out for you to take. You slowly inch forward, timidly taking the bowl from him as you try to think of what he may mean. Whilst grabbing the container, your fingers brush against his own. You both flinch at the sudden contact, causing you to quickly scuttle backwards like you’d been burned. His fingers had been cool to the touch– A bit slick, thanks to the scales. You peered down at your hand, perplexed, and you noticed Connor do the same with his hand. Even though you were further away, you were still close enough to notice a blue tint overtake his cheeks. He looked almost… In awe.

“Marshmallow.” You finally answer him as you regain your senses and figure out what he’s referring to. He blinks, refocusing on your gaze, and a soft smile comes to his face.

“Marshmallow… I really like that. If you… Come back… Could you bring me some more? Just the marshmallow?” He asks, hopefully, and the look on his face makes your heart pick up a bit. So. Chocolate for Sixty, marshmallows for Connor… You were really doing this, weren’t you? Well, as long as you kept your distance, you figured this may be a fun use of your downtime. A sudden idea came to mind, which had you smiling just a bit more.

“Tell you what.” You begin, eyes crinkling. “Tomorrow night, I’ll bring marshmallows, and some other things. Why don’t you invite your brothers as well? It can be a… Party.” You decide, and his eyes light up at the prospect.

“Really?” Another smile crosses his face, and you nod, still grinning.

“Yes.” You glance over to the alcove to your left. It would be a good place to shelter from the wind, should there be any tomorrow night. Plus, the more you looked at the water, the more you were able to make out a steep dropoff. It would probably be more comfortable for them to wade water there instead of being partially beached. “At sundown.” You decide, turning your attention back to him, and he’s practically beaming.

“Okay! I’ll let them know.” His tail flicks up from the water, eager, and you take another step back, glancing back the way you came.

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I need to get going now. Lots of work to do today.” You state, finding the strange feeling of reluctance creeping up inside of you. He appears mildly disappointed as well, smile falling some as he settles his fin back into the sand and sea.

“Alright. I hope you have a good day. I’ll see you later,” He offers a friendly chirp of your name. You both wave, before you turn and make your way back to your temporary home, ready to learn a new craft.

#reader insert #reader #x reader #you #dbh connor #dbh connor x reader #dbh sixty #dbh nines #dbh nines x reader #dbh sixty x reader #au #merpeople #merfolk #rk800 60 #rk900 #rk800

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fast-burn · 11 days ago

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ooo genuinely asking out of curiosity— what made you think there was a line for f1 rpf? In what way? I can kinda see it, I feel like there’s some very very popular kinks/tropes and then others you don’t see.

Also I’m not really into hockey rpf but I’ve kinda perused and know you guys have the most incredible fic!! I’m curious what are common tropes used in hockey rpf that you don’t see in f1? For example, I guess bc I’ve been in the f1 circle for so long I almost forget how it’s not “normal” to have sooo much omegaverse hahah

oh anon, i have many thoughts. can i interest you in a readmore?

okay so full disclosure is that hockey rpf has had people trying to doxx authors who post kinks they don't like, so it's not like it's free of problematic readers. personally i've had people write posts about how i'm a disgusting freak for some of the tropes/kinks i've written--mostly xeno/weird biology stuff. i've written some satirical stuff about it rather than let it get me down because tbh there are prudes in any audience. at this point i just don't go seeking people who write hand-wringing think-pieces about how my friends and i are the scum of the earth because really it's rooted in internalized misogyny, kinkshaming, and inferiority complexes; i simply don't have the bandwidth. but discourse like this has chased many people out of the fandom or caused them to unceremoniously delete their work. frankly, i've gotten off relatively easily.

but on the flipside--and maybe this is just time spent in the fandom?? god i've been writing hrpf since 2017--i've got a fairly loyal following who will read pretty much anything i've written. like if i wrote something completely balls-to-the-wall unexpected, it'd probably still get at least 50-150 kudos just on spec. i have a fic where the pairing is so rare that it's the ONLY one in the tag, and it still has 59 kudos.

the thing is that there's sort of a distressing trend of young people becoming more and more puritanical because of the diminishing youth space on the internet. i'm not the first to notice this or talk about it, so i won't bother with going into detail. but connected to this is the idea that fandom is rather cyclical as older fans move on (not all, but some) and new, younger fans come in. therefore, with a new cycle of fans nowadays comes a new cycle of...that. so it's pretty much all fandoms experiencing this. we've all seen the ridiculous outrage at ao3's hosting of """problematic""" content. i think this internal policing is why there's a lot more out-there kink content in original fiction on ao3 compared to fanfiction.

um okay onto hockey vs. formula 1! i need you to take this with an ENORMOUS grain of salt but based on a very very very small sample size, the more kinky the fic, the less engagement it gets. on one hand, this is sort of to be expected, since kink by its nature lies outside what is normative or standard, ergo hopefully people only read it if it's something they want to, or at least are curious about.

from what i've seen so far, i don't think f1rpf is that kinky?? to me, omegaverse is...okay, well it's kinky, but i also think it's become a kind of standard. i remember when omegaverse was new, but now i feel like it's a sort of fandom standard, at least for explicit fics. (are there g-rated omegaverse fics??? i simply filter out any search results for non-explicit fics.) my most-kudosed fic on ao3 is omegaverse, and to me that implies an acceptance of the trope to the point where it's become normalized. but i think there's a reason for that.

generally i think kink in fic is a way to explore and critique the source material in a sexy way. like for example, sports rpf in general has a lot of genderplay, either through omegaverse, or rule 63, genderswap, gendercurse, mpreg, male lactation, etc. which makes sense because generally Big Sports tend to be male-oriented, misogynistic, transphobic, and extremely segregated. and conversely, fanfiction and slash-fiction spaces, in their contemporary iteration, are largely the opposite. so hockey rpf, formula 1 rpf, football rpf, etc. will likely have a large amount of kink that engages with that concept.

but i think there's a lot more stuff to critique in formula 1 that, at least from my brief experience, has gone untouched. and maybe i'm just missing it because it was in the early 2000s or the 1990s? bear with me...

car-fucking/car sex: this is maybe my number one concern. why aren't they having sex in/on/around the cars? or WITH the cars? during a race? post-race? as a warm-up/cool-down? as a way to connect to the car/build the car? (see: carva universe) not just their race cars but also their stables of road cars. hello?? and nobody reacted to my suggestion that there should be a cronenberg-crash au. why not.

adrenaline junkie bullshit: like full jackass stunt nonsense. escalation to completely dangerous levels. deep sea diving, mountain climbing, parachuting, throwing a bowling ball at someone's nuts, etc.

bdsm: there is SOME--really really good stuff--but i want MORE. the way half of them like getting strapped into the seat but the other half hate it? but also the way that the adrenaline junkie bullshit feeds into painplay. and like the Whole Entire Concept of Discipline is just sports sports sports all over.

power dynamics and sexual ownership: while most sport rpf deals with teams, f1/motor is more individual-based. a driver is virtually owned by their team and it's extremely hierarchical. it's what creates these intense rivalries and shifting loyalties. also the cost vs. income difference for the lower formulas vs. f1. idk i just think there should be fics where teams bring that into play for sex reasons.

age difference: some ships come with it built-in, of course. there's this legacy of mentorship that i've noticed which is sort of a combination of coach/player and agent/player. then there's engineers and team principals who also have rich opportunities. mechanics are also often older than the drivers. and owners, sponsors, ancient pundits? so like...fuck that old man??

idk there's just a lot of dark, gross stuff happening in formula 1 and i think it needs to be turned into disgusting (affectionate) sex.

i am accepting recs, and i don't care what pairing it is.

that all being said, and at this point i'm second-guessing every single sentence i've written here, there's still a ton of new younger fans coming in. you can look at the charting of most popular pairings across the past 10 years or so and see it happening. and please don't get me wrong: the cycle of fandom is actually necessary and i love to have fresh writers and readers involved! just that, well.

if i've been in a fandom for x-number of years, i'm going to have to theoretically get more and more creative in order to produce something fresh and different. so unless i want to write some long, well-researched, plot-heavy character exploration through the romance genre, i'm here suggesting that we put a gearshift up someone's ass. okay? okay. but new writers don't need to necessarily go that far. so it's gonna be more tame, more vanilla. less kinky. and likewise, less willing to take a chance on a bit of strange.

#i'm rambling! i don't know what i'm talking about!!#please someone tell me that something resonated with you because i feel like im going crazyyyyyy #or conversely DON'T read this because i'm ramblinggggg

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gonzo-rella · 8 months ago

Text

Headcanons: Being Alexis Rose's Trans Boyfriend

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

NOTE: While this was written more with binary trans men in mind, I hope this is also suitable for AFAB nonbinary trans people who are masc, male adjacent or otherwise identify with masculinity in some way. I consider myself nonbinary and possibly transmasc, and I wrote this with myself in mind, too. I'm also working on an Alexis x nonbinary!reader set of hcs, for AFAB and AMAB enbies alike, so if this doesn't work for you, stay tuned for that!

Relationship(s): Alexis Rose x transmasc!reader (romantic)

Warnings: Dysphoria, other slightly negative trans-related stuff. (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: So, I'm currently going through a transmasc crisis. Like, I still consider myself nonbinary, but I'm also considering the possibility that I'm more on the dude side of things. I always use the analogy of Kermit the Frog, who's technically a guy, but it's weird to class him as a man because he's a frog puppet thing. To help me experiment and explore, I'm writing some fics with a transmasc reader, since the thing that's got me stumped is struggling to imagine myself as a masculine person in a romantic relationship with any gender. I've already written a set of headcanons using this prompt about Wallace Wells, but I really want to write some more of these for a wider range of characters. I chose to write about Alexis because I'm honestly so in love with her, but I'm struggling to picture myself as a guy sorta thing in a relationship with a feminine woman. So, if you're a trans guy or transmasc looking for some more representation in the fanfic space, feel free to peruse my fandom list and send in a request! My last Schitt's Creek fic flopped but I'm also considering writing a short piece about being Roland and Jocelyn's trans kid and them being confused but supportive, so let me know if you'd be interested in that!)

Alexis has a pretty colourful dating history, as part of her pretty colourful life.

So, being trans doesn’t make you stick out like a sore thumb when comparing yourself to her past boyfriends.

What does make you stick out is the fact that you’re just some guy, and not Brad Pitt or Jared Leto or a prince of a country you probably wouldn’t be welcome in.

Alexis wouldn’t mind that you’re trans.

Even if you don’t pass or don’t present in an overly masculine way, it won’t even cross her mind that you’re trans until you eventually tell her, which would probably be when you’ve been friends for a while.

The revelation won’t change things between you, until you mention something trans-related that she isn’t that familiar with, like dysphoria or something.

I feel like Alexis has some blind spots when it comes to trans people.

She’s experienced a lot in her life, and I imagine she’s been acquainted with at least a few trans people in her time.

But, being trans isn’t her lived experience, and she can be a little oblivious to things that aren’t part of her lived experience.

So, when she can’t do or say anything to help you and can only pretend that she understands, she decides that she needs to learn more about trans people.

She’s too embarrassed to admit to you that she isn’t that knowledgeable about trans people beyond a surface-level understanding.

She’ll try to fill those gaps by asking David questions that he’s mostly equipped to answer as a queer guy who’s been around and dated plenty of trans people, including trans guys.

(She’ll act like she’s not asking for you, though David will quickly realise that’s why she’s so interested in trans people all of a sudden)

But, if/when she starts asking questions about what your transness means specifically for you, he’ll groan and send her away, suggesting that she ask you if you’re open to answering her questions.

She’ll also spend a few late nights on her phone and laptop doing research into trans people and how to support them, and as sweet as David finds it, he does not appreciate the noise of Alexis typing keeping him awake until 3am.

Her sincere curiosity is unexpected but endearing, and if you do end up having a talk with her about your transness, it will be a catalyst in getting you two together, because seeing how much she cares about understanding you makes your heart melt.

Fast-forward to when you’re together.

Johnny and Moira are also a little unsure about the whole trans thing when they find out about it.

Unsure as in ‘we haven’t met many trans people’, not doubtful of its validity.

They’ll go to David to ask him (since he’s the queer one in the family), but Alexis proudly and confidently answers them, much to everyone’s shock and amazement.

David is especially impressed.

Alexis is the epitome of that ‘if I had a lameass boyfriend I would hype him up so much’ post.

You’re literally just some guy, but she introduces you as her boyfriend with so much pride.

She is so supportive of you.

She will not let you be down on yourself, or she’ll absolutely try her best.

She showers you with compliments on a regular day, and this quadruples if you feel particularly dysphoric.

It means a lot because she is completely sincere with everything she says, and she’s naturally very good at saying the right things to make you feel better, even if you might expect her to put her foot in her mouth.

If you’re unhappy with your style, she’ll be beyond excited to take you shopping for new clothes.

If you’re not comfortable going clothes shopping in a physical store, she’ll send you links to clothes she thinks will look good on you but also fit in with your desired style.

David will also gladly offer his assistance, since he considers himself an expert in men’s fashion.

But, they will both reluctantly shut up if their input proves unhelpful to you and goes against what you want to wear.

I’d like to think that most of the residents of Schitt’s Creek would be indifferent to you or supportive of you, but on the off chance that you encounter any transphobia, Alexis will come to your defence with an “um, excuse me?”

If you need a gender affirming haircut, she’ll look into trans-friendly hair stylists and barbers in the area.

If you’d like her to, she’ll accompany you to your appointment, and if you’re more passive, she’ll be assertive on your behalf, because sometimes hairdressers suck at listening to what trans clients want and she will fight for you to have your ideal haircut.

And, when you get the haircut, she’ll give you a kiss and tell you how handsome you look.

If you want to get top surgery, she’ll happily help you do research into different surgeons and look into how to help you when you’re recovering.

Basically, she’s already more than willing to spend half of her day on her phone, and she’s happy to spend a lot of that time looking into trans-related things for you.

It’s more than clear how much Alexis loves you.

She’s your biggest cheerleader, and she’ll always be there to support you.

At the end of the day, you’re her boyfriend, and that’s all that matters.

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