#⧽ ⠀ ⠀ ── ⠀ ⠀ fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves ⠀ ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ⠀ camilla & jonathan.

[yawnderu]

"Quit lookin' at me like that." He demands, accent growing thicker by the minute at his frustration.

"Like what?" You manage to gasp out, cheeks swollen and bloody at the beating you just took. Your hands are clasped together on your lap, forced to sir on your knees as you look up at him.

What stared back at you wasn't your loving Simon, no— this creature was much different. Ghost was glaring down at you, eyes cold and devoid of emotion other than pure, raw anger.

"Like a fuckin' lost puppy. Like you don't know what you did." His grip on the trigger tightens, holding the muzzle to your temple.

Please, tell me it isn't true. For the love of God, tell me it's all a lie.

"You leaked our information to fuckin' Konni?" He asks in disbelief, just wanting to confirm what he knew all along. It all connected once he found out; the late night escapades, the detached look in your eyes, how you kept missing every single celebration with the team claiming you were busy. Maybe if he noticed sooner, things would have been different.

Your silence and the way your head hangs low in shame is all the confirmation he needs. His gloved hand grips the pistol harder, the rough material almost merging with his skin.

You don't even have the courage to look at me.

"Everythin' we did together... I trusted you with my bloody life. I told you all my secrets and let you see all of me, and this is how you fuckin' pay me?" He doesn't even wait for an answer, three silenced gunshots ringing in his ears as he dumps the bullets into your chest, looking away before he hears the familiar thud of a body hitting the ground.

Goddammit. God damn it all to fucking hell.

Simon chokes on a harsh breath, the corners of his mouth twisting into a frown underneath his balaclava, jaw slackening. He doesn't dare look at you, unwilling to let his last image of you be a pool of blood with dead eyes.

He cried all his tears when he was a little kid, yet he can somehow feel the familiar sting in his eyes, causing him to sigh loudly and shake his head. His pistol goes back in its holster as he turned to leave, not sparing you a single glance.

Dying alone is a scary thought. You come to the world in a room full of people, your mother's happy face looking at her own creation, nurses and doctors smiling and celebrating you even when all your tiny body can do is to cry.

The thought of death isn't what scares you, no. Being a soldier for the special forces only ends two ways: retirement or going home in a box. That's something you came to terms with a long time ago, when your much younger hand held the pen, signing the contract that sold your soul to your comrades, a silent eternal promise of "we fight together, and we die together".

Your shaky hands grasp at the snow as you drag yourself forward, gear all of sudden heavier than ever; crushing you down like Atlas holding the sky. Your blood leaves a dirty trail on the pure, clean snow, marking you down as an easy target if Simon decides to come back for you— you know Ghost won't.

By the time someone manages to find you, your fingers are purple and your lips are painted an awful shade of blue, body adorned with burns from the cold snow digging into your bare skin. You allow yourself to rest as soon as the warmth of someone's hand makes contact with your skin, barely able to register the panicked scream and loud orders being barked.

Labeled as a hero after saving the country from Makarov's terrorist attack, Simon sported a new brand of chest candy on his uniform. Colorful ribbons adorned the right side of his blazer. His chest is still puffed out with pride as he steps into his small flat in London, all memories of you thrown away, including the ring he kept hidden in a drawer.

''Cute shoulder pads.'' Your finger hovers above the trigger, finally stepping out of the dark.

[yourladyem]

The Three Men in Lydia's Life: All About Connections

Richard: "We made a great kid."

Made a great kid. Thought it was an odd saying instead of they have a great kid. Shows he wasn't very much involved in Astrid's life.

Doesn't try to make a connection with his family even when he sees the riff growing between his ex-wife and their daughter. Doesn't do anything even after he sees them again. Goes back to work and doesn't help them in any way afterward. Doesn't tell Astrid how to stay in contact with him even though she has Lydia's gift. Basically like he wasn't around as much as Astrid thinks he was. Not a lot of family pictures in that album she found. The "free spirit" with a dissolved connection who seemed to care more about his causes than his family.

Wasn't really around.

Rory: "It's like we have the same stupid little heart."

Well, we all know what Rory is. Connection through manipulation and trauma. Pulls at the emotional heart strings.

He degrades their so-called connection by using the word "stupid" like there's no seriousness to their relationship or what they feel isn't important enough to be taken seriously but pretends to be serious about her in order to marry her. And we all know the real reason why. More like manipulated teenage puppy love.

Thinks the person they are manipulating is extremely stupid and tried to separate their victim from everyone else.

But like many who've been through similar relationships, the abused is usually the last person to figure it out or they don't possess the strength to leave out of fear of never being enough. But sometimes it takes a certain person for you to listen and see the truth. Enter Beetlejuice.

Childish and selfish.

Beetlejuice: "Lydia and I have a psychic connection."

Never left her. Never lied to her. Never lied about his motives. Never tried to manipulate Astrid. Always kept his word. Seems to want to be a husband and father. Romances her and let her go. Didn't get jealous of Richard and tried to insert himself between him and Lydia during their closure.

Bettered himself with his own business and was devoted to Lydia for 30 years. Seemed to always be talking about her to his employees and maybe others who would listen.

Exposed Rory and knew his true intentions a long time ago. Gets excited when Lydia sees him (even if she is absolutely terrified every time).

Left her alone while she got over Richard's death before approaching her again especially when Rory entered the picture.

The picture on his desk. I don't think Richard had any pictures of his family anywhere including in his little Hobbit hole. He never pulls one out of his pocket and says he keeps it to remember them and it's the one he had on him when he died. None of that. Beetlejuice steals a picture of Lydia and proudly displays it on his desk for decades.

The Hawaiian sequel had him constantly looking at her picture that was always on him. Richard had nothing.

Literally gives her his heart when Lydia gave away hers to two other men who didn't cherish it.

Doesn't push Lydia's family away. He includes them and helps them. He's got a soft spot for that family.

Even after everything, Lydia feels more comfortable and herself around him than the other two. She's bolder. And might even see him as a friend in some ways. She trusts him more. She didn't question Beetlejuice when Rory started spilling the truth. She didn't see the Truth Serum being injected into Rory. How did she know it was the truth and not a trick on BJ's part to get rid of him so he could marry her? Because in the end she knows the one person she's wanted out of her life is one person she can trust the most. He gives her the boxing glove to finish the job on her own. He knows her strength and is even surprised by how much she has when she punches Rory. He's proud of her and wants her to fight for herself and speak for herself.

Always there for her even when she doesn't see it.

He is honest with her when Rory wasn't.

He is devoted to her when Richard wasn't.

He is proud of her when the others weren't or didn't show it.

He listened to her when the others didn't.

He respected her when the others didn't.

He cherished her when the others didn't.

He defended her when the others didn't.

He protected her when the others didn't.

He tried when the others didn't.

He loves her when the others don't.

[callmeagardengnome]

˚ʚ sore thumb ɞ˚ | CHOI SAN

pairings ᯓ idol!san x boxer! fem!reader

genre ᯓ soulmate au, one-shot

synopsis ᯓ tied by emotions and injuries, you and your soulmate have been through quite a roller coaster - especially when he can feel each and every punch you receive.

c.w ᯓ SLIGHTLYY angsty but it does have hella fluff. also this is during the BOUNCY era!

w.c ᯓ 2.6k

author’s note: sorry for the kinda late upload! took me a while to write this.. also ignore the weird ass timeline, this story is definitely not really true to the actual irl events

not proofread!

masterlist

you’ve always known that boxing was your calling. the thrill of getting in the ring, the sounds of gloves hitting the bag - the adrenaline that you got from the sport was.. addictive.

from the moment you stepped into the gym, you were hooked. while you weren’t that good at first, you continued to work day and night, training and perfecting your technique.

fortunately enough, you managed to climb the ranks. you became a pretty big name in the boxing world. people loved watching your matches, not just calling you a boxer, but an entertainer.

san, on the other hand, experienced your matches in a different way.

for years, san had been dealing with the sensation of getting punched in the face, or if it wasn’t that, his fists were the ones feeling the damage. not only that, he was completely oblivious to you and your job.

the both of you found out about your soulmarks early in life. frankly, it was pretty obvious. you started to feel emotions that weren’t your own and had sudden bursts of pain that came without warning. when your parents brought you to various specialists, all their answers were the same - it was a soulmark.

while san felt happy that he had an easy-to-spot soulmark, he couldn’t help but feel.. annoyed.

he often found himself wincing during rehearsals, clutching his sides as phantom pains shot through his body. san had been reasonably concerned and confused when the punches first started. there would be days when mysterious bruises would appear out of nowhere or where he would feel the sudden urge to dodge an unseen pinch flying towards him.

this led to san wondering - what were you doing? why were you getting into fights so often? were you a criminal? or could it be martial arts?

san eventually came to the conclusion that you were in some form of combat sport. after all, the punches that you received seemed controlled, and the bruises that you got were repetitive.

“again?” san would mutter under his breath, rubbing his sore ribs. this would happen almost every day, each time feeling as though it was happening to you for the first time.

though, sometimes, he would roll his eyes, somewhat amused, as if he was speaking to someone directly. “really? you couldn’t dodge that one?” he said, shaking his head with a smile.

as time passed, san found himself growing more attached to you. though he didn’t know who you were, he felt your emotions. he felt the anxiety you felt before every match and the rush of victory you experienced after a successful fight. he became oddly protective of you, even if he didn’t know why.

unfortunately, everything changed when you trained for an upcoming championship match. you were having a pretty intense training session, pushing yourself harder than before. as you landed a powerful punch on the punch bag, you felt a sharp pain shooting through your hand, making you drop to your knees.

“shit- what did i just do..?” you mumbled to yourself, staring at your twisted hand in shock. the pain was unbearable and overwhelming, throbbing in waves and spreading up your arm. the realisation hit you - something was wrong. not only for you, but your soulmate.

at the very moment, san felt the pain explode in his own hand. he was in the middle of rehearsal, practicing the choreography for ATEEZ’s new comeback. the sudden pain caught him off guard, making him shout in surprise.

“woah, what happened?” hongjoong rushed over immediately, his face laced with concern.

“i don’t know, hyung-“ san winced, his hand shaking. “my hand feels like its broken.. i- i can barely move it.” the other members gathered around him, completely stopping their rehearsal.

“san, that looks pretty bad. do we need to get you to the hospital?” seonghwa asked, kneeling beside him.

san shook his head, trying to catch his breath. “i think i’m fine.. just give me a moment.”

he was far from fine. the pain felt too real, too intense. you must have really injured yourself - badly. his mind started to race with worry. what happened? why did this feel 10x more painful than anything he’s ever felt? and most importantly, were you okay?

“come on san, we should at least get it checked,” wooyoung insisted, helping him to his feet.

meanwhile, you rushed to the hospital, cradling your injured hand. the both of you were left with the same diagnosis - a broken hand.

for you, it was devastating news. boxing was your life, your soul. putting in on pause meant that your whole life was on pause. the injury meant months of recovery and falling behind in the sport you love.

you also felt extremely guilty. not only did you cause yourself pain, your soulmate was definitely experiencing the consequences of your actions.

“great,” you sighed, running your fingers through your hair. “i just injured two people.”

despite your friends and trainers trying their best to support you, you couldn’t shake off the sadness you felt. what you hated though, was the fact that your soulmate could feel the range of emotions your were experiencing.

“why am i so careless,” you thought to yourself as you lay in your bed. “he must think i’m a mess.”

while he didn’t think you were a mess, san was struggling with the new injury. with the new comeback approaching, he needed to change the way he danced, finding ways to work around his broken hand.

sure, it was a inconvenience, but all san could think about was you. during this period of time, he constantly felt waves of sadness crashing over him. san could feel how guilty and depressed you were over your hand. the only thing that made it worse was that san could do nothing to help you.

san desperately wanted to reassure you, tell you that he’s fine and that you shouldn’t worry about him. but since neither of you knew one another, all he could do was imagine what he would say if he could reach you.

“whoever you are,” he whispered to himself. “don’t be too hard on yourself. we’re in this together.”

˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚ʚɞ ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

a few months go by and you eventually recover from your injury. you started to slowly ease back into boxing again, regaining the spark that you temporarily lost in your life.

KQ soon decided to postpone the comeback to a further date, wanting san to have a speedy recovery. the pain eventually subsided, allowing ATEEZ to continue with their promotional activities for the comeback.

with the group entering the ‘BOUNCY’ era, KQ wanted san and wooyoung to watch some boxing matches to try and get a realistic shot for their music video.

the two men sat at their dorm’s living room couch, scrolling through the different videos on their tv.

“which one should we watch..” wooyoung said, clicking the remote controller. “ooh.. how about this one? it’s live streaming right now.”

san shrugged, not really caring on what’s on the screen. his mind was elsewhere, thinking about the recent preparations for the comeback. he was about to reach for his phone when he suddenly heard the commentator’s voice booming through the tv speakers.

“and now, stepping into the ring, the undefeated boxer making her much awaited comeback after a hiatus - ‘____’!”

san froze mid-reach, but it wasn’t your name that caught his attention - it was the sudden surge of energy and adrenaline coursing through his veins. it was a familiar feeling that he felt all those times whenever you were in the ring.

wooyoung noticed san’s focus on the screen, giving him a look. “hey, you okay?”

san nodded, his eyes glued to the tv as he watched you step into ring. “yeah, i’m fine. i just feel like i should watch this match.”

you stood in the center of the ring, hearing the crowd cheering your name. it felt surreal to be back, reclaiming your place in the boxing world.

when the match began, you moved with precision, every punch given with the techniques that made you a popular boxer in the first place. the first few rounds were intense, with neither you or your opponent giving in. you wanted to show the world and your soulmate that you were no longer held back by your injury.

as san watched the match unfold, he felt every jab, every dodge, every emotion that you were feeling. it was as if he was in the ring with you, experiencing the fight through your eyes.

and then it happened - the moment that confirmed san’s questions. you landed a strong uppercut on your opponent, making her fall back. the crowd erupted with applause and san felt an immense pride that wasn’t his own.

he realised then, that you were his soulmate.

san took a deep breath, facing wooyoung in surprise. “i think.. i just found my soulmate.”

wooyoung’s eyes widened. “what? you mean-“

“yeah,” san said, leaning back into the couch. “it’s her. i can feel it. i’ve been feeling it the whole time.”

˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚ʚɞ ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

the fight ended with your victory, with various sponsors and offers reaching out to you afterwards. while you appreciated it, you felt that maybe it was a good idea to take a few breaks from boxing every now and then.

one day, your manager told you about an interesting offer. a company called ‘KQ Entertainment’ reached out to you, wanting you to help choreograph a fight scene for their music video.

“why me?” you asked, genuinely curious. “i’m a boxer, not a choreographer.”

your manager shrugged, a smile appearing on her lips. “they mentioned wanting authenticity and your name came up. they said that the scene could benefit from your expertise.”

you paused, taking in the proposal. the idea of working with a k-pop group intrigued you. it was something different from your normal routine. a break from boxing didn’t mean that you had to step away from it completely. you finally made up your mind, accepting the deal.

˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚ʚɞ ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

“wait, what?” san exclaimed, getting up from his chair.

“yeah, your soulmate’s going to teach us some boxing moves,” hongjoong said with a grin.

san began panicking, not expecting to meet you so soon. he didn’t expect his company to reach out to professional boxers, let alone you, to help choreograph the scene. he eventually calmed himself down, preparing himself on what to do when he finally meets you.

the day of meeting ATEEZ arrived and you found yourself entering the lively building. you were introduced to the staff and the directors, who eventually led you to the studio where ATEEZ were. while you have heard of them before, you didn’t know what to expect, feeling slightly nervous.

the both of you started to feel anxious, both just from your own emotions, but from each others. when you entered the studio, san couldn’t even believe that you were real.

as more introductions went around, one of the members caught your eye.

“hi, i’m san,” he chuckled nervously, extending his hand.

the moment you shook his hand, you felt an intense wave of emotions that wasn’t yours. it was as if the world paused for a moment, allowing the two of you feel each other’s feelings.

san, too, seemed taken aback. his eyes widened slightly as his hand started to shiver in shock.

“it’s nice to meet you,” you managed to say, trying to keep your composure. after all, you didn’t want to seem unprofessional in front of celebrities.

“likewise..” san muttered, his grip lingering longer than necessary. “i’m really looking forward to working with you.”

“booo just kiss already,” wooyoung shouted playfully.

you raised an eyebrow, looking between san and wooyoung.

“sorry about that, he loves to make things awkward,” san said, turning to you with an nervous smile.

the both of you stared at each other for a moment, unable to take your eyes off each other. there was something about him that made it difficult for you to look away.

you laughed, ignoring the blush rising up your cheeks. “it’s all good.”

˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚ʚɞ ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

the rehearsal for the scene went by quickly, with san and the other ATEEZ members eager to learn the different moves.

“san, try to keep your guard up here,” you instructed, demonstrating the move. when you reached over to adjust his arms, you felt the same wave of emotion crashing down on you once again. was this a coincidence?

you eventually let them do their own thing, wanting them to try out the moves without guidance. yet, there was still something at the back of your mind - the weird feeling between you and san. it was unlike anything you’ve felt, almost as if it was.. meant to be.

as you started to think about the implications, you thought of an idea. sure, it was a little silly, but it would confirm your suspicions of san being your soulmate.

you decided to bite your tongue, slightly harder than needed, seeing if you could get a reaction out of san. as expected, he yelled out an ‘ow!’, looking at you briefly before quickly returning back to practicing.

that was it - he was your soulmate.

you waited for the rehearsal to be over, walking over to where san was. he turned as you approached, his eyes lighting up with an excitement that made your heart skip a beat.

“hey-“ “hi-“ you both said at the same time, sharing a small laugh.

“thanks for helping us today, we really appreciate it,” san smiled.

“of course, no problem,” you said nervously, trying to cover the flustered state you were in. no matter what though, san definitely knew how you felt in that moment.

you took a deep breath, gathering the courage to speak. “can we talk..?”

san’s eyes softened, looking around for places to talk at. “absolutely, let’s go somewhere quieter.”

he led you to a quiet corner of the studio, away from the hectic noises of the building. san leaned against the wall, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought about the right words. “i think i know what you’re going to say,” he began. “you felt that earlier too right? that whole emotions thing?”

“yeah..” you nodded. “are you thinking what i’m thinking..?”

san smiled, his gaze holding yours. “i think we’re soulmates.”

hearing him say those words filled you with joy you didn’t expect to have. it was one thing to suspect him of being your soulmate, but it was another thing to have him actually confirm it.

“i’ve known for a while,” san admitted, scratching his head. “but i didn’t say anything at first, i didn’t want to scare you away.”

“well, i’m glad you told me,” you chuckled.

his smile grew, “and i’m glad you understand.”

standing there, you felt a peace wash over you. the bond you shared was no longer an unspoken part of your lives, but a truth.

“so what happens now?” you asked.

“i’d like to get to know you better,” he replied, leaning closer to you.

his words were sincere, making you feel flattered that someone like him wanted to know you, or even spend time with you.

“i’d like that too,” you said, a smile spreading on your face.

san leaned even closer to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “i think we have a lot to learn about each other..” he said trailing off.

“mhm,” you agreed, grabbing the collar of his shirt. you pulled him in for a gentle kiss, which he gladly reciprocated more fiercely. the both of you could feel each other’s emotions, even the sounds of your heart beating.

the both of you pulled away, laughing, feeling weak and giddy from the kiss. “we’re going to have so much fun together,” he smiled, whispering it into your ear.

any and all feedback appreciated <3

other fics

series taglist [OPEN] - @cara-rey @hwasbabygirl @chngbnwf @passerbyforfun @butterfliesinthenightsky @ismelllikechlorine247 @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes @forever-atiny @arki-sha

[lyssasdrafts]

— AFTERGLOW 🦇🌟

azriel x reader smau!

status: completed!

pairing: azriel x reader, slight eris x reader

includes: humor, angst, fluff, modern au, coffee shop au, college/university au, strangers to lovers (for azriel x reader), childhood friends to lovers (for eris x reader)

description: being a childhood friend of the archerons and vanserras; you happen to keep running into a certain member of the inner circle at velaris university, but pursuing a new relationship with someone else is hard when you struggle with commitment issues from your first love.

content warning: contains themes of azriel’s canonically toxic family life, mentioned/implied homophobia for mor’s arc (chapters containing these will have a warning)

00 profiles: y/n’s group exiles cafe inner circle

001: “ i blew things out of proportion ”

002: “ i pinned your hands behind your back ”

003: “ thought i had reason to attack ”

004: “ fighting with a true love ”

005: “ boxing with no gloves ”

006: “ this ultraviolet morning light ”

007: “ chemistry ‘til it blows up ”

008: “ tells me this love is worth the fight ”

009: “ tell me that you’re still mine ”

010: “ why’d i have to break what i love so much? ”

011: “ it’s all me, in my head… ”

012: “ i’m sorry that i hurt you ”

013: “ but it’s not what i meant ”

014: “ i don’t wanna lose this with you ”

015: “ just wanna lift you up, not let you go ”

016: “ i lived like an island ”

017: “ tell me that it’s not my fault ”

018: “ i don’t wanna do this to you ”

019: “ i’m the one who burned this down ”

020: “ just don’t go ”

021: “ meet me in the afterglow ”

bonus chapters:

002.5: “ who’s that barista guy? ”

013.5: “ why are you calling me your babygirl? ”

021.5: “ the wedding ”

[nottyoursbutmine]

afterglow | m.r

pairing: mattheo riddle x implied gryffindor reader (not really)

the one where mattheo regrets everything he said

afterglow - taylor swift

—

Mattheo is staring at the back of your head in class again and the same thing is replaying in his mind, your last conversation. It’s all he can ever think about since it happened.

I blew things out of proportion, now you're blue

Mattheo sat at the Slytherin table watching you eat breakfast a little too close next to Fred Weasley. He’s heard you repeatedly say you two are just friends but he sees the look in Freds’ eyes.

You laughed and he’s even more annoyed now, what was so funny? He watches as Fred wraps his arm around your shoulder, he bolts up. He doesn’t care about shoving Nott or Malfoy to the side in order to make his exit quicker. He walks up to the Gryffindor table and wastes no time pulling Freds’ arm off your shoulder and as far back as he can, making Fred gasp and shoot up in pain. Fred collects his things and runs out of the Great Hall.

Mattheo turns to you, as if this was your fault. He takes your hand, walking you out of the Great Hall as casually as he can. As soon as you’re out of view from your peers, he immediately pulls you into the nearest empty classroom. “Colloportus,” he says quickly to lock the doors.

“Okay, so now what did I do?” you say to Mattheo, sitting on top of one of the desks, ready for what was going to be said.

Fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves

“What did you do? You’re joking right?” He looks at you like you’re missing the joke, “How do you think it makes me feel being known as the guy whose girlfriend is a slut?” He steps closer to you, making you close your legs. Typically Mattheo and you get fight but end up saying sorry in the same breath.“It’s embarrassing, having to watch you whore yourself out to all the boys in our year- scratch that, Weasley isn’t in our year.” He’s speaking to you like poison, something unknown.

You’re trying to hold back from yelling anything to him. Typically your words shoot to kill when you’re mad and you have a lot of regrets about that. However, he keeps going and his nagging voice is so annoying. “Yes! Of course I whore myself out to every guy because Merlin knows it’s more than 3 minutes with them!” Obviously you’re lying but it’s the heat of the moment and his words hurt.

He’s staring at you with such anger you’ve never seen before. He looks to the side of the locked room almost as if he was checking if anyone was around. He looks back into your eyes and you can’t find a single emotion. He takes a few steps back and says, “I wish I never asked you out.”

Your face falls, your heart is beating so fast and time freezes. You feel the tears, you can’t remember the last time you’ve cried but the next time will not be over a boy. You hurriedly collect all your things, “Well I wish I never met you,” you mumble, hopping off of the desk.

As you’re walking away he speaks out, “Don’t bother me again.” And with that you close the door and run away as fast as you can to your dorm.

-

Mattheo feels someone smack him on the back of the head, “You gotta stop with the staring,” Blaise said as he nods his head toward Snape. Mattheo realizes the class was almost over and his paper was completely empty. Not that this is any different, the guy never took notes.

Mattheo is biting his tongue, he’s not sure whether to turn to Blaise of all people for advice. He takes a deep breath, “I don't wanna lose her, I don't wanna lose this with her.”

“Then man up and do something because Merlin all of this staring and not showering thing is getting weird.” Blaise was right. He had to do something, he wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to say to you, but he knew it had to be soon.

“You’re right I should go talk to her, after class is over, right?” Mattheo says unconvincingly, he’s nervous and honestly it’s not just because he’s on the verge of getting detention by Snape.

“I’m saying you should talk to her after you shower,” Blaise says while keeping his eyes on Snape, trying to listen to what he was saying.

-

And so, after class ends, Mattheo runs to his dorm so he can take a shower so then after he can see you. You. He was so focused on what to say he wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to say. Or do. You should be in the library right now studying with your lab partner like you planned, not that Mattheo was stalking you or anything.

He starts making his way to the library when he hears your laugh down the corridor. This was not how he planned, you were supposed to be at the library and he was supposed to apologize where you couldn’t yell at him. He basically memorized an entire script he created in the shower.

He sees you turn the corner with Fred, laughing over what? He still doesn’t know. He’s beyond angry and the script is completely out of his mind. “Y/L!” He yells your name. Making you and Fred jump at the sudden noise, not knowing he was there. The look on your face makes him realize he needs to calm down.

You turn to where the familiar voice called your name, “Mattheo?” You almost step towards him with caution as you remember his last words.

But it's not what I meant, I'm sorry that I hurt you, I don't wanna lose this with you

He begins walking towards you, trying to forget all about Weasley. He’s staring into your eyes when he stops at an arm lengths distance. “Can we talk in private?”

You’re not sure if it’s good or bad but you automatically agreed. You just needed to be around him again. Your last conversation with him cannot be your last conversation.

You let Mattheo grab your hand as you turn to Fred, “I’m sorry, I’ll see you later okay?” And with that you feel Mattheo hold on tighter and pull you away faster into an empty classroom.

He locks the door and places a silencio spell on the room, who knows what will happen. It’ll be past curfew by the time you two finish this, he knows it and you do too. He turns to you and you’re standing in the middle of the room with your arms crossed.

He takes a step towards you and you don’t move, he sees that as a win. “I’m so so sorry.” He takes a deep breath along with another step. “I miss you like crazy. You’re all I could think about. I’m sorry for everything I said. I was insecure and I should trust that your relationship with Fred is nothing more than a friendship.” He takes one last step and with this his toes are almost touching yours. There’s nothing sexual about this, this couldn’t be more innocent. Yet, he’s so close to you, you can barely breathe.

You look into his eyes, “I miss you like crazy too. I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt our relationship and I just need to say-”

He grabs you by the waist and pulls you closer, if that’s even possible. “Tell me that you're still mine. Tell me that we'll be just fine.” He’s staring into your eyes as he leans down with the biggest smile. The tips of your noses now touching and your face in his hands. “Even when I lose my mind.”

“I need to say-”

He wraps his right arm around your waist and places his left on the back of your neck. He interrupts you yet again with a kiss, hard and passionate, like he couldn’t wait for this moment. You wrap your arms around his torso in an attempt to push your chests closer. He slowly guides the kiss to a more gentle and slow moment. When you both pull away, he stares into your eyes and says, out of breath, “I need to say, I love you.”

You pull away with wide smile, “I love you.”

—

I don’t hate it but I also don’t like it. I would like to start doing more ttpd/1989 but lover lyrics are just speaking to me :(

also remember requests are always open!

[dabisbratz]

𝒮𝒰𝒞𝒦𝐸𝑅-𝒫𝒰𝒩𝒞𝐻 ! — toji fushiguro x male reader

w.c: 3.9k

warning: boxer!toji, size difference/kink, daddy kink, bottom!reader, manhandling, fingering, light feminization, light crossdressing ( ? ), unprotected sex, creampie, praise/degradation, oral sex, size queen ( king? )! reader, impact play ( slapping ), light choking, descriptions of violence (boxing) & blood, hair pulling, tummy bulge, spit, cliffhanger, breeding kink

sonny says..! a lot of ppl think tummy bulges in fics = skinny reader, but when i write them in s’not true for m’fics ! the reader has no body-type descriptions, it’s really jus that toji’s so big he makes one. your body is perfect the way it is, n fanfiction is !! not !! realistic!!

Fushiguro’s got a thing for adrenaline.

It gets his blood pumping— literally and figuratively. It gets him bouncing from one foot to another before his match even begins, his body shakes with uncontrollable tremors and he has to grit his pearly teeth to keep them from chattering. He feels it coursing through his veins, thick and steady as it pumps through with each passing beat of his heart, and he’s never felt more alive.

It gets his heart beating. Loud and rushed in his ears as the sound joins cheering fans in their symphony, muffled by the doors that separate backstage from the ring. Yet he can still hear it, the loud, constant cheer of ‘Toji! Toji! Toji!’ bouncing off his eardrums and straight to his racing heart. It’s almost incomparable.

He knows you’ll be watching tonight, back at home surrounded by memorabilia that reminds you solely of him and his success— his accomplishments and trophies. But you’re the best of them all, his boy, sitting pretty by the sofa as you flick on the tv to watch your man take home another. To say he’s excited would be childish.

He’s over the fucking moon.

“Fushiguro,” It’s his coach speaking, something incoherent in comparison to everything else— the inky black strands of hair already sticking to his forehead, the sight of his veins cascading up his forearm just to reappear thick in his biceps, his freshly bandaged hands being painted with chalk. But he hears it anyway. The man is quick to whip his head to the side, an intense shadow in his lime eyes that has his support team shivering. “Not too much this time.”

Right. Because last time he’d let himself get a little carried away. It was the atmosphere of it all, hanging heavy in the air as he sent punch after punch after punch into the guy, one headshot after another. And sure, maybe he went too far, but at least he never went for the back of the head.

See, Toji considers himself a capable man. He’s big, he’s strong, he’s got it figured out whatever they choose to believe in him or not. And, in the long haul, he’s got it. He’s who the fans turn to, who the reporters question; he’s the headlining artist. He’s the one who gets the title, the belts, the awards, the boy. If his opponent can’t handle a few punches to the face, that's their fault for signing up.

“I got it.” He says, teeth peeking from his plump, pink lips until they’re on display, predatory. And he means it.

The arena is big. A large stadium with an even larger venue meant to pack what looks like at least half of Japan’s population. Smack dab in the middle sits the ring, with black, padded turnbuckles and four crimson ropes. Getting thrown onto the ring ground feels like concrete, solid and rough on any skin that touches it. It’s unforgiving, it’s violent. It’s permanent, and every fight could well be Toji’s last.

But that might just be why he loves it.

His chest heaves violently, large intakes of air through his nose and out through his mouth as he pounds his gloved fist against his gloved palm. His lips part, salty and sheen with sweat as water squirts into his waiting mouth, dripping down his chin and cascading down his chest. He looks good despite it all— the bleeding lip and bruised cheek. It makes the scar on his lip look fresh, freshly split open, and he can’t help but prod at it with his tongue. In the crowd, you wonder if he feels as though it’s been reopened.

“Remember the formation,” It’s garbled through the shouting, the cheering, the pounding in his ears. He can’t quite remember anything, boxing just isn’t that type of thing for him. It’s not algorithmic, he doesn’t have to remember or practice a routine, it’s muscle memory. It’s natural. “You hear me, Scarface?”

“Loud n’ clear.” Though it’s gone through one ear and out the other.

It looks like he’s losing. He’s gotten a few good hits in, caused a few nosebleeds, but his attacks to the body just haven’t been cutting it. His opponent, the smug bastard of a man, with blond hair and woodsy brown eyes may not look as bad as Fushiguro does, but he looks just as tired. He can’t have that, no, not when you’re at home watching. Not when the jumbotrons are broadcasting in front of hundreds and thousands of fans.

There’s a pat on his back that has Toji jolting forward, more on his own volition, but if anyone asks he’ll blame it on that anyway. Because he feels it now, the pent up tenacity bubbling through his veins and straight to his fists as he bares his teeth and stares down his opponent. It’s not like he’s trying to look intimidating— Toji’s a big man. He towers over most, even if they’re in the same weight category. He’s just big, with broad shoulders and an equally broad chest. With a broad rib cage that dips at his waist and widens back at his hips, then travels down his thick, strong thighs and legs.

And, fuck, if his tired-looking opponent isn’t as strong. He throws strong punches that land square center, almost enough to have Toji stumbling. They’ve got matching, blooming bruises. Matching cuts, and Fushiguro swears if he has to watch the blond stretch between matches one more time he’ll knock himself out.

And then he hears it. He does, really— he knows it’s real because he’s fucking hard. His boy, his sweet boy, somewhere in the crowd chanting his name. The only name that ever leaves his lips, sweet as honey whether it’s being moaned or screamed— whether it’s serious or in a fit of boyish giggles. You’re watching. In person. . . In the stadium, you’re watching.

Toji’s cock twitches in his shorts and he’s never felt more grateful for protective cups in his life.

When he walks through the door the air changes.

There’s a small murmur of ‘I’m home, pretty.’ that’s deep and gravelly, accompanied by the sounds of duffel bags falling to the floor with a sharp thud. Toji’s hands look so big as he runs them through his hair, freshly bandaged and flexing effortlessly. How rough would they feel against your ass. . ? You can’t help but imagine his strong hands squeezing and groping your body, his palm cracking down on your ass as he holds you still by your waist alone.

He must catch onto your presence by the hitch of your breath, because the moment he opens his eyes they’re on you. You feel like prey, blinking rapidly as you watch him stalk over despite still wearing his shoes. He’s going to eat you alive, you’re sure of it, his green eyes narrowing as he tugs on the collar of his black compression shirt.

“Hi.” You start, unsure of what to say. It always comes naturally to you— talking to your boyfriend, his overwhelming presence, being able to talk to him despite how intimidating he seems. But now he’s got you stumbling over your words, staring at you in thick silence that makes you want to bury your face in his chest until he says something.

His eyes slowly roam your body, taking in your clothes with a sharp intake of breath through his teeth.Your legs feel like jelly, of course they do, wobbly and malleable and suddenly cold because of all the breeze they’re getting. Right, you’d rushed home to put on your prettiest outfit— a reward for the man. For the champion.

Though pretty might not be the word for it. Sure, it is, but skimpy is much more appropriate. With lace and ribbons and garters on each of your thighs, you’re a sight for sore eyes. The prettiest boy he’s ever seen, leaving little to his imagination (not that he needs it anyway, he’s seen you naked a thousand times over) and stumbling over your own legs with his gaze alone. It makes him want to pull out his phone and replace his lockscreen (already you, but much more innocent). Toji tilts his head to the side, a sharp grin growing on his handsome face.

“This all for me? You shouldn’t have.”

Whether it’s subconscious or not, watching his pink tongue dart out to wet his lips makes you swallow down a whine, squirming where you stand. Your boyfriend, big as ever, bends at his waist to fully tower over you, emerald irises darkening with something that has your stomach twisting and lurching. He’s seen it then, his very first gold medal adorning your neck.

“Toji!” You squeal, chirping in his ears as he whips you around and backs you into a corner. So cute, you look so cute wearing one of his medals. It adorns your pretty neck and glints under the light, his name encrusted into the gold. Like a collar, of sorts.

“Pretty baby,” He purrs in response, swapping the names with his fist curled around the medal, pulling you closer. The grin etched across his face shows nothing but pride, swelling in his chest and glinting over his sharp teeth. “What’d I say about comin’ to my matches?”

You swallow down the lump in your throat, shaking your head before he stalks forward to close the gap between your lips. Fushiguro still tastes vaguely of metallic blood, but his busted lips are just as soft as they were this morning. They’re much more rushed, not as slow or smooth as before— but now he has a goal. His tongue is quick to slip into your mouth, wet and silky in your mouth, enough to have you moaning before he even starts. His hands creep up your body, large palms pressing against your throat until his hands find your hair and tug.

With a gasp you’re immediately brought back, blinking away unshed tears as your hand reaches for your boyfriend’s thick wrist, “Ow! You—”

“I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

Yeah. Well, yes, he did. And you have an answer, you always do. Always have something to say, something that keeps his eyes glued to your pretty lips. Something smart, sometimes, that has the man ready to shut you up with a mouthful of his cock.

“You said,” You huff, bratty as ever, wrapping your hands around his wrist. Your fingers don’t meet, he’s much too big, and you’re sure your grip feels like an ant crawling up his forearm. “Not to, because,” Another tug. “ ‘It distracts you.’ ”

“Right,” He sounds noncommittal, eyes focused on the contractions in your throat as you swallow down your whines. The fist in your hair turns as a gentle palm, flattening against the back of your head as he holds you still. Your man smells faintly of musk and disinfectant— it makes you want to swoon. To drop to your knees and mouth at the fabric of his sweatpants until his dick— it’s yours though, really— is lined up against your cheek and his pre is dribbling down your face. “You distract me.”

“Am I. . .”His hand is on your chin now, lifting your gaze until you’re standing on your tiptoes. Always been so big, so strong, pressing his thumb into the plush of your cheeks with a bit more force than necessary. Your breath is caught in your throat, and your voice comes out breathy and soft and small, “M’I distracting you now, Daddy?”

There’s a sound akin to a purr the second he hears it, the title sweet as saccharin on your lips. Jet black bundles of hair swish and sway as he shakes his head, somewhat ignoring the question as his hands travel past your waist to grope and squeeze at your ass. Soft, squishy. You’ve always been so soft, so little in Toji’s grip, his pretty boy.

But you’re even prettier when your holes are stuffed full and stretched open. You’re even prettier when the sets you’ve put together are ripped and tattered on your body— when you’re a mess of sweat, and spit, and cum. You’re easy to move around— most are easy to be moved by Toji, but you especially.

You’re obedient when it counts, and the second he’s pushing your knees down to the floor you’re opening your mouth.

“Whose mouth is this?” Your brain is foggy but you know the answer to that one. You do, you do, because it always ends in cum down your throat and an array of ‘good boy’s whispered into the air. There’s a rustle of fabric as he fishes his cock from his sweatpants, no longer a large, girthy dickprint twitching under the cotton. Now it’s in his hand, hot and curved and leaking.

Daddy squeezes at his cock, his large hand sliding into a fist that clamps down around the thick, rose gold head, then sloooowly back down to the thick, pulsing, veiny shaft. You want his cock inside, stretching past your rim and splitting you open while you cry and whine over how big he is, you want his cock sliding inside until he fills you up with his sticky, hot cum— so much so it feels like you’re dying, being held down on his cock while load after load is released into your hot hole. He spits down onto it, saliva thick and runny, collecting at the tip until it’s smeared down to the base and mixing with his pre.

“S’yours, Daddy,” You're gasping around the sticky head of his cock, catching the leaking precum on your tongue as he taps it against your lips. It’s bitter and salty, but thick and invasive in a way that makes you feel properly owned. “Yours to fuck, gonna cum down m’throat, Daddy? Want. . . Need you to, wanna feel you shoot on m’tongue.”

“That—fuck— that mouth. . . A’course it’s. . . mine..” He trails off above you, and if you can think, you think you can barely breathe. You’re trembling against his strong thighs, struggling to form words around the jumbled and garbled moans leaving your mouth as Toji’s fingers rub in smooth, slick circles against your entrance. You don’t remember him having lube, but you can’t complain when his fingers feel so creamy rubbing your hole.

If you can think, you think you can barely breathe. You’re trembling against his strong thighs, struggling to form words around the jumbled and garbled moans leaving your mouth as Toji’s fingers rub in smooth, slick circles.

He appreciates the easy access.

You’re sure if he lets go you’ll fall straight through the floor, knees trembling, a needy puddle. And maybe you’re crying, sliding off his cock with wet pops and sticky whines— you’re not entirely sure. All you can hear are Toji’s groans, his grunts of ‘goodboygoodboygoodboy’ as his other hand squeezes around your throat so it tightens around his thick cock. That and his big fingers playing with your hole, swirling and sinking and teasing your mushy walls until you’re fluttering around the digits and letting out pitiful, bitchy whines.

You’re burying your face against his dark pubes, swallowing hard around his dick with thick, sloppy gags that have you coughing against his balls. Whatever Toji’s saying, it’s earned you a tender pat to the back of your head, sweet and light in comparison to his rocking hips that make you jolt back and forth. Your knees dig into the wood, but you don’t necessarily mind it. It's grounding, and you can focus on the drool pooling between your knees as he bends at the waist to finger you.

“. . .want it in here?” There’s a snap of fingers that makes you blink away the edges of fogginess clouding your judgment, and you find yourself being pulled free from his musky cock. Your throat is empty, you’re empty, and you can’t help but press your face into his spit-slick thigh. But there’s a tap to your cheek, a big palm cracking down on the fat of your face, and now you’re much more alert.

“Uh. . .Huh?” You blink away the emotional whiplash, leaning into the now gentle, bandaged thumb rubbing circles against your cheekbone. Then his hand moves lower, past your jaw to collect the ribbon of his medal where it hangs from your throat, and pulls.

“In here, baby,” There’s emphasis on his question with his fingers pounding into you enough to make your toes curl, and your eyes roll back as the digits press against that sweet, jammy bundle of nerves. “Want Daddy’s dick in here?”

You’re not sure whether to pout or nod. You’ve missed an opportunity for his load down your throat, but it’s even better when it’s in your tummy. It’s Toji’s night, decidedly, and it seems you’ve made your choice when you hear yourself whine, “Yes, Daddy. Please!”

You’re not sure how you got here, how fast he’s maneuvered you— back against the wall and knees over his big, broad shoulders— but you’re not complaining. There’s a light buzz in your hips, so you assume he’s picked you up, weightless in his arms, and folded your legs over his arms.

“S’big, s’so so big, Daddy, fuck,” You’re crying into your forearm as Toji holds you still by the neck, his other hand running up and down your tummy. It’s soothing just as much as it is hot, it doesn’t take much for his large hand to roam over your body. But it can’t make you stop whimpering at the feeling of his dick splitting your tiny hole in half. “Not gonna fit— it can’t.”

“It’ll fit. it’s fit before, hasn’t it? Y’have a greedy hole on you, baby.” You’re gasping and trembling with his cock sliding in and out of your opening, sticky lube pooling along with it and connecting his tip to your boyhole. He feels so big, so thick and hot when he taps it against your hole, barely breaching the tiny gape of your shy hole. “And if not we’ll just have to make it fit, won’t we?”

“Yeah, yeah. . .” You breathe, staring up into his eyes with a fucked-out smile. Toji— Daddy—looks so good, so handsome and strong as he offers a scarred smile back. “Can make it fit. Can take it.”

You hiccup, overwhelmed tears streaming down your face as you reach past your thighs to spread the globes of your ass open wide, your pretty hole slightly gaping and winking at his cock. There’s a breathy groan in return, deep and shaky as Toji takes the opportunity to slip past your rim,, past the burning stretch of your fluttering star that sucks him deeper and deeper into your slick, gummy walls. “Wanna feel you for days, wanna get so full, think it’ll take, Daddy? Your cum?”

“Fuck,” He moans, gruff and throaty at the implication. Breeding you, his cock-hungry boy, until you’re full of his cum and unable to move. Until you’re a daddy. “If it doesn’t we’ll just keep going until it does.”

Your hand clasps around the gold medal like a lifeline, eyebrows pinched as his long, thick cock stretches you open. The curve of his dick has you mewling, tears building in your eyes as your boyfriend fucks up into you, despite telling you to ride him. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of it, the feeling of his cock splitting you open like he owns you, or the way his big hands press matching bruises into your hips.

“Open.” Your lips are already parted, hearty moans and whines leaving your mouth over and over. But you make the extra effort to stick out your tongue nonetheless, the wet muscle pretty and glossed over. And, much to your confusion, there’s a gentle kiss placed to the temple of your forehead before he’s hovering back over you.

“Good boy.”

A sloppy string of saliva falls from his lips, missing your tongue by a mile— instead landing on your cheek. It’s enough to make you flinch, a pitiful squeak of a sound escaping as your eyes clench and blink away confusion.

“Oh, I missed,” Fushiguro’s smile is fond and cruel. “Oops.”

You’re so whiny, lifting and rocking your hips as a pathetic attempt at fucking yourself full of cock. It seems you can go barely a few seconds without it, working your hips down the thickness of his cock even as you struggle to take it. His hand gathers the spit, a genuine smile splitting his lips when you move your head to suck them clean.

Such a good boy.

“Really workin’ for it, aren’t you?” Voice as sweet as it is mocking, lube gushes and trickles out with every tilt of your hips. The wet slurp of his dick goes makes you preen, body tightening as you tremble and shake. You’re speared on his cock over, and over, and over, again, and again, and again. It’s more like he’s using you as some sort of fuck-machine than actually fucking you, but it makes sense. Daddy’s much too big to bounce on, it’s easier if he uses you like a toy. It’s easier to keep yourself open, to welcome his cock inside your sloppy hole with the flutter of your lashes. “Good thing you got that medal on, really are the tightest cocksleeve I own. Deserve a trophy for it.”

You don’t have to imagine how deep he is, how far his slick cock reaches, because you can see it. Right there, in your tummy, his cock bulges big and pulsing. You thought feeling him twitch against your walls was enough to have you squirting along both your chests but. . . no. It’s his hand, big and veiny, pressing right into the bulge. Your eyes roll back until your back is arching off the wall— tummy pressed against his palm— and you’re cumming harder than you thought you ever could.

“Shit, did you—”

“C’mon, please. Inside me, Daddy. Please, please I want. . . I can’t, please.” It’s easier if you don’t think about it, it’s easier if you sit there, a tiny toy just barely able to take his cock. You don’t even process your voice as your own, letting your big boyfriend squeeze your hips and lift you on and off his cock until he’s twitching uncontrollably. Your hands ball into tight fists, eyes clenched shut as he uses your trembling hole.

“Barely even touched you,” His breaths are hitched and quick, eyebrows furrowed as he focuses on the slapping of his balls against your ass. So tight and warm, gooey and soft against his thick shaft— massaging his cock just right. You’re so good. “And you came. You’re so easy. So easy to get you dumb off cock, so easy to bounce you up n’ down. Best pussy I’ve ever had.”

“Wait, don’t—” The words are caught in your throat, lips pulled into a small ‘o’ was thick rope after thick rope of cum shoots into your tummy, flooding your senses and spurting from your tight hole. You feel soaked, slick and sticky as your boyfriend offers a few sharp, heavy thrusts. His eyes are glued down, watching his cum make slick bubbles and slide down his own cock, just to disappear back inside your perfect hole. You can’t swallow down the drool escaping from the seams of your lips, instead letting it fall down your chest until your head is falling forward.

“Aht-aht,” You’re pressed dead-center into his chest, burying your messy face between the warm skin. “I’m not done with you yet. Want Daddy t’make you a daddy too, don’t you?”

[xtra7s]

Could you maybe do one where r is a boxer and has like a big fight. Renee x reader

𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 ─── 𝘙𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘦 𝘙𝘢𝘱𝘱 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Synopsis: Renee watches as her girlfriend fights in the ring, cheering for her every step of the way.

Content: Renee Rapp x Fem!Reader, R is a boxer, bit of blood/violence, fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

a/n: loved this request. hope you enjoy!

masterlist

Renee Rapp, adorned in a black jacket and dark clothing, slipped through the bustling crowd at the boxing venue. The air buzzed with anticipation as the murmurs of fans and the distant sounds of a cheering crowd merged into a symphony of excitement. Tonight was no ordinary night. It was Y/N's big fight, and Renee couldn't be prouder.

Her heart raced as she made her way to the ringside. The atmosphere was charged with energy, and the stadium lights illuminated the boxing ring, revealing a mix of nerves and determination on the faces of the fighters. Renee found her VIP seat, eyes fixed on the ring, eagerly awaiting the moment her girlfriend would make her grand entrance.

The announcer's voice echoed through the venue, introducing the fighters one by one. The cheers of the crowd intensified as Y/N, known as the "Silent Fury" in the ring, stepped into the spotlight. Dressed in her boxing gear, she exuded a quiet confidence that spoke volumes about her dedication and skill.

Renee's heart swelled with pride as Y/N's eyes found hers in the crowd. A silent exchange of love and support passed between them, a connection stronger than any applause or camera flash. Y/N gave a nod, acknowledging Renee's presence, before turning her focus to the impending battle.

The bell rang, and the fight began. Renee's gaze remained unwavering on Y/N as she moved with precision and agility, a true force to be reckoned with. The crowd erupted with every punch thrown, and Renee couldn't help but feel a surge of adrenaline with each successful strike.

The air in the arena crackled with energy as the fight unfolded in the ring. Y/N, the "Silent Fury," showcased a masterful display of skill and strategy, her movements a dance of controlled aggression. Each punch thrown, each evasive maneuver, spoke volumes about the countless hours of training and dedication that had brought her to this moment.

Renee sat at the edge of her seat, her eyes never leaving Y/N's figure in the ring. The rhythmic thud of gloves meeting flesh, the sharp exhales with each strike—all resonated with a visceral intensity. The crowd roared with approval, their cheers blending into a symphony of adrenaline.

Y/N's opponent, a formidable force in her own right, pushed back with determination. The two fighters engaged in a riveting exchange of blows, a dance of power and resilience. The ebb and flow of the match kept the audience on the edge of their seats, their collective breaths held in anticipation.

Y/N's strategy became clear—meticulous precision paired with explosive bursts of energy. The Silent Fury lived up to her moniker, a calm exterior concealing the storm of determination within. Renee marveled at the way Y/N moved, each motion a testament to her commitment to the sport.

Between rounds, Renee anxiously watched Y/N retreat to her corner. Their eyes met, and Renee offered a reassuring smile. The silent communication spoke volumes – a shared understanding that went beyond words. Y/N's determination never wavered, fueled by the love and support radiating from the woman who stood at the edge of the ring.

As the fight reached its intense climax, Y/N found herself caught in a fierce exchange of blows with her formidable opponent. The air in the arena was thick with tension, and the crowd's cheers and roars intensified with each well-placed punch. The relentless dance in the ring seemed to transcend the physical, echoing the resilience of a fighter unwilling to back down.

In a moment of quick and unexpected retaliation, Y/N took a solid hit to the face. The force of the blow reverberated through the arena, and an audible gasp swept through the spectators. A trickle of warmth signaled that Y/N's nose had borne the brunt of the impact. The crowd fell momentarily silent, the sight of Y/N, bloodied but unbowed, hanging in the air.

Renee's heart skipped a beat as she watched from the ringside, standing up quickly to hold against the bars of the balcony she was on, a mixture of concern and admiration etched across her face. Y/N staggered back, briefly stunned by the hit, but her eyes remained focused, the fire within undiminished. The referee quickly assessed the situation, checking for any signs that might warrant stopping the fight.

Blood dripped from Y/N's nose, staining her boxing gloves, but she shook off the pain and wiped away the blood with a determined swipe of her glove. The taste of iron lingered in her mouth, a visceral reminder of the brutal reality of the sport she loved. The referee gave the signal, and the fight resumed.

In the subsequent rounds, Y/N fought with a newfound ferocity. The adversity only seemed to ignite a spark within her, turning the pain into fuel for her determination. Despite the visible toll on her face, Y/N moved with calculated precision, unleashing a barrage of counterattacks that left her opponent on the defensive.

Renee, her worry transforming into awe, could see the resilience in Y/N's every movement. The crowd, initially hushed by the sight of the injury, now erupted into a chorus of support. Cheers and chants filled the arena as Y/N pushed forward, refusing to let the setback dictate the outcome of the match.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the fight, Y/N stood in the center of the ring, battered and bloodied but victorious. The crowd's thunderous applause and standing ovation were a testament not just to Y/N's skill but to her indomitable spirit.

As the final rounds approached, the tension in the arena reached its zenith. The crowd's cheers reverberated, creating a cacophony of sound that encapsulated the intensity of the moment. Y/N, sweat-soaked and resilient, pressed forward with unwavering determination.

In a climactic exchange, Y/N delivered a powerful combination that left her opponent staggering. The referee stepped in, declaring Y/N the victor. The crowd erupted into a thunderous applause, and Renee jumped to her feet, overcome with joy.

The roar of the crowd still echoed through the arena as Y/N made her way backstage, the taste of victory mingling with the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. Renee, her concern evident in her eyes, rushed to meet Y/N the moment she stepped off the canvas.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Renee's voice was filled with a mixture of worry and pride.

Y/N managed a weary smile, her face still marked by the battle scars of the fight. "I'm good, baby. Just a little banged up, that's all."

As they retreated to a more private area backstage, away from the prying eyes of the media, Renee gently guided Y/N to a chair. She could see the signs of exhaustion etched on Y/N's face, but the fire in her eyes remained unyielding.

"Let me take a look at that," Renee said softly, reaching for a towel to dab away the blood from Y/N's nose.

Y/N winced slightly as Renee touched the tender area. The cut on her nose, while not deep, had left a visible mark. Renee, however, approached the task with a delicate touch, her love and concern evident in every gesture as she brought a hand up to hold Y/N's face still.

"I can't believe you kept going after that hit," Renee murmured, a mix of admiration and concern in her voice.

Y/N chuckled, the sound slightly muffled by the cotton towel pressed against her nose. "Wouldn't have it any other way. Besides, you should've seen the look on her face when I came back swinging."

As Renee cleaned the cut, she couldn't help but marvel at the strength and resilience of the person before her. Y/N's determination, both in the ring and in life, was a source of inspiration. The adrenaline of the fight had given way to a more intimate moment between them, the backstage chaos fading into the background.

Once the bleeding was under control, Renee reached into a nearby medical kit for some ice and a soothing balm. Gently applying the cold compress to the bruised area around Y/N's eye, she spoke in a soothing tone. "You were incredible out there, Y/N. I've never seen anything like it."

Y/N leaned into Renee's touch, grateful for the comfort and care. "Couldn't have done it without you in the crowd, cheering me on. Your presence is my secret weapon. Now kiss it better."

Renee smiled widely, rolling her eyes. "I love you" she murmured, leaving a light kiss on Y/N's nose, as she held her.

As they sat together backstage, the connection between them deepened. The physical wounds would heal, but the bond they shared, forged in the crucible of the fight, remained unbreakable. In that quiet backstage moment, surrounded by the echoes of victory and the gentle hum of their love, Renee and Y/N found solace in each other's presence, knowing that no matter the challenges they faced, they could overcome them together.

[asunsetgrace16]

Hiiiii!!! Can I request literally anything written about Fraser Minten lol. I was thinking maybe she’s having a sleepover at his house for the first time and is a tad bit shy and nervous about them sharing his bed maybe with prompts 35 and 39 from your fluffy list???

Thank you so much!!!! I’m obsessed with ur writing

✧ 𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗦𝗟𝗘𝗘𝗣𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥 ⎥ 𝗙𝗠39

Pairing: Fraser Minten x fem!reader

Warnings: fluffyyyyy, one kiss (I think), one swear

Summary: Y/N stays over at Fraser's for the first time after their usual Hockey Night in Canada Saturday date

Notes: Thank you so much for the request! I love writing for Minty and there is a lack of Minty content on here. Hope you enjoyed!! Prompts 35: "That's my girl" and 39: "You're blushing" "No I'm not". I also made up the entire game except for the misconducts that were given in an actual Florida-Ottawa game last fall.

masterlist⎥ navigation

Word Count: 978

As per weekly Saturday tradition, Y/N and Fraser watch whatever hockey game is on TV. Both avid hockey fans and players, they both grew up watching Hockey Night in Canada, rooting for their teams with unabashed pride; Fraser for Vancouver and Y/N for Winnipeg. Occasionally, their hockey-watching dates are over FaceTime when Fraser is out of town for games and he often falls asleep, his phone dying overnight. 

Tonight, however, isn’t one of those nights. The Blades played a rare Saturday matinee game, ending just before four. This gave the couple time to make dinner before the start of the game. His billet family is away visiting relatives for the weekend, so it’s just the two of them. They settle in for the game with plates of spaghetti and salad. Ottawa is playing Florida tonight.

“This should be interesting.” Y/N comments, “nothing good ever happens when the Tkachuk brothers are on the ice together.”

“Very true. How many fights do you think will happen?” Fraser asks, half-Joking, half-serious.

“Oh, easily three or four.”

The game starts off fairly uneventful. No goals from either team and only a penalty or two. But you can tell the teams are chippy with each other. It's the start of the second when things finally amp up. It starts with a slash to the shins of Jakob Chychrun from Nick Cousins, sparking Brady Tkachuk to get involved. The refs are able to break it up before anything exciting happens. There is a pair of goals in the last 10 minutes of the first, so the teams are tied heading into intermission. The second follow is much of the same pattern; a goal for each team, a few minor penalties, and one scuffle. They had barely taken their gloves off before the refs broke it up, boring.

“ Boo.” Fraser says to the TV, “Let them fight, it’s more exciting that way.” 

Y/N laughs and rolls her eyes. But he's not wrong, “You just like to see Matthew stir shit up.” 

“You've got me there.” 

It's in the dying minutes of the third one Fraser gets his wish. A cheap shot from Carter Verhaeghe sends Parker Kelly into the boards awkwardly. He doesn't get up as both teams end up in the corner. Claude Giroux tries to pull Parker away from the fight. The rest of the guys grab each other and start fighting, well most of them anyway. Brady and Matthew are both in the mix. Helmets are off, gloves and sticks are scattered on the ice and the refs are circling. Parker got some help getting to the bench and is getting checked by a trainer. The fight goes on, eventually guys are in headlocks, jerseys are half off, and others are piled on the ice, still swinging punches. The refs break up the fight, sending the guys towards penalty boxes before dishing out the penalties. 

“Every player on the ice gets a 10-minute misconduct, except for the goalies and Ottawa number 27.”

Both Fraser and Y/N are staring, absolutely dumbfounded. Almost never do 10 players get game misconducts. 

“Well, there's the entertainment for the night.” Y/N quips.

The last few minutes pass quietly, the benches are looking very bare, five guys gone from one side and four from the other. Fraser has nodded off by the time the game ends, and Y/N isn't far behind. She turns off the TV and folds the blanket that she used. She sighs tiredly, looking around the dim room. Fraser’s half-asleep on the couch, all sleep-warm and face cast with shadows from the kitchen lights. Y/N moves about the room, gathering her bag and phone. She smiles softly, love in her eyes as she looks as Fraser. She wakes him gently, prompting him to go to bed.

“Just stay.” Fraser mumbles sleepily, yawning. 

“I…I don’t know.” Y/N hesitates, wanting to say yes.

“Please.” He interrupts, giving Y/N a soft, pleading look.

Y/N stays quiet for a minute, reaching out to brush a piece of hair off of his forehead, “Ok. I’ll stay.”

“That’s my girl.”

Y/N flushes, turning shy all of a sudden. She looks away, avoiding his gaze. They haven’t slept over at each other’s places yet, and it makes Y/N’s cheeks warm.

“Why’d you get shy?” He asks as they walk to his room.

“What? No I didn’t”

“Yes, you did. Look, you’re blushing.” He grins at her, poking her cheek.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. And it’s cute.”

Y/N gives him an exasperated look, she will never admit it but Fraser is right. It’s their first night sleeping over together so it takes an extra few minutes to get everything sorted. She is a little jittery, nervous to share Fraser’s bed with him. Her brain goes into overdrive as she tries to avoid making things weird. Fraser gives her a shirt to sleep in and he pulls on a pair of sweatpants. They stand on opposite sides of the bed, unsure of how to proceed. Sure, they have cuddled before, but usually that was on the couch or her cramped twin bed at school. Fraser climbs in, throwing back the covers and he holds his hand out for Y/N to grab. She takes it climbing into the other side. He pulled the covers over them, rearranging his pillow for optimal comfort. Y/N does the same, relaxing more as the minutes go by. Fraser reaches over and shuts off the lamp, sending the room into darkness. By the light of the moon, they face each other. Fraser pulls Y/N closer, giving her a sweet kiss on her forehead before tucking her into his chest. Before long, the couple has drifted off, wrapped up in each other’s arms like it's the most natural thing in the world.

[scribble-dribble-writes]

What about Miguel having a training session with the reader (preferably f!reader) and things get steamy? 👀

This had me kicking and giggly my feet hahahaha

Hope you like it!!

---

Dream girl

Word count: 2500

Content: lovers to enemies to lovers hehe

---

You watched him enter the gymnasium as you stretched in the corner. You were sure no one was going to be here, least of all when all the spider people were out fighting crime. But you should have known, he never crawled out of his cave except for when he wanted to. So why now?

You and Miguel had a history many knew about. It was well established that the both of you couldn’t stand each other, but that was because there was a time when you did. Your paths crossed each other’s briefly. You were in love for a second in a universe that didn’t offer lifetimes.

You picked up your bag to leave, not in any way interested to engage with him. He kept to the periphery, so if was clear he didn’t want to either. But catching glimpses of him wasn’t all bad, you would look at his hands and remember the time it wrapped around your waist. Or his smile and how it was only reserved for you but now you only gave each other your scowls.

The rumor around spider society was he had found someone else. A new woman that he was entertaining and you weren’t sure why it pricked you. It annoyed you and seeing that your hands were still wrapped in gloves, you convinced yourself another round on the boxing bag would help you blow of some steam.

Why was it that even after years the very thought of him got under your skin?

You were deep in your zone, headphones in, music blaring, your knuckles landing on the bag with a force enough to shatter walls but somehow not enough to erase him from your mind. It was when you felt the imprint of his palms on your waist, your blood surged. No matter how hard you sweat or workout, you knew that he was your one true love, always haunting your mind.

There could be no one after him and yet he seemed to move on easily from you. But the lingering touch turned into an instructive shove. Straightening your waist to fix your stance, he was next to you.

Your eyes widened as you removed your headphones. Pulled away from your workout to his unenthused gaze, “Can’t have people slacking around here. Your stance still has it’s flaws.”, he stopped the bag from swinging around.

“Sure.”, you rolled your eyes which earned you a slight grin from him and as much as you hated it, it lightened you up a bit.

“Save me the lecture, I was going to head out anyway.”, you moved towards your bag to gather your items.

“Uh huh.”, he narrowed his eyes at you as though he could see what was going on beneath the surface, that he could see you like no one else and you hated him for it.

“That’s because you’re scared I might ask you to spar with me.”, he commented as he shrugged his shoulders and it was the spark your fuse needed.

“Scared? Of you and your pathetic display of acrobatic stunts?”, you faced him folding your arms.

“I don’t think so.”, you furrowed your brows.

“Sounds like an excuse.”, he clicked his tongue to turn and walk away to the center of the soft floored pit.

He walked away, while in the middle of a conversation, that you were never supposed to have in the first place. You groaned as you trudged behind him spouting more reasons as to why he was wrong. He was always wrong about everything, like when he told you he couldn’t have you around him because he couldn’t afford to have loose ends.

You were as capable as him, as strong as him and yet he pushed you away, dumping all your love out onto the pavement. How could you not hate him after that?

“Well fine, I’ll prove it to you.”, you dropped your bags and gloves.

“I’m not going to fight you.”, he chuckled looking quite surprised that you had given into his taunt.

“Now you have to.”, you raised your fists, assuming the right stance as you leveled your feet on the ground.

“Come on, you can’t be serious.”, he turned to you with that mischievous look in his eyes. He wasn’t the only one who could see past facades. You knew him like the back of your hand.

You shrugged your shoulders, signalling him to join you when he turned his back to you once again. Dismissing you once again. You could feel the anger being to pulse in your veins.

“It wouldn’t be a well balanced fight. I’ve got claws and you’ve got … well, just hands.”, he was wiping his face in a towel when his high handed statement was your breaking point.

You didn’t wait for him anymore, now you lunged at his back. Your frustration now bursting out of the bottle you had sealed it in. But he dodged it as though he predicted your move.

That didn’t stop you, you found your footing again to turn to him, his eyes trailing down your body as if he was evaluating you.

“You’ve been practicing what I taught you, haven’t you?”, he stood with his arms folded as if this wasn’t an interesting fight.

There it was again, the fuse, you yelled in annoyance as you tried to land another blow. He dodged to the right. Another punch, he stepped back. He was fast, his eyes alive with the same glimmer he held long ago.

You stopped, the proximity causing you to feel betrayed again. Here in this room, training together, it felt like old times and you had grown to miss it. It was easy to hate him, like now as he stood in front of you looking stellar as always. It was clear he didn’t feel anything for you as strongly as you felt for him.

But that was long ago. Right now, he was a better alternative to a punching bag. He was getting you riled up so it was your turn, to dig into the cold hidden secrets of his mind, to taste the victory you craved.

“How’s it going with the new girlfriend?”, you asked and watched as his grin vanished, replaced with a more serious expression.

“Where did you hear that?”, he questioned but if was the perfect window to land a kick to his guts. Which you did, he stumbled back grunting at the light impact.

“Oh I see how it is.”, he smiled as winced resuming his stance, now with hunger in his eyes and his hands drawn. Now it was going to be a well balanced fight.

“Why do you have to be so difficult?”, he question as he lunged towards you.

“I’m difficult?”, you raged, blocking his punch.

“You’re the one who’s lured me into a fight.”, you ducked to swivel around him.

“Why didn’t you walk away as always?”, he questioned which caused you to wait, to think of an answer and instead made you miscalculate your aim.

“Because…”, you paused as your fist missed his face by an inch.

“Because?”, he asked catching your hand in his and instead of pushing you away he pulled you in as though he was more intent on your answer rather than all this dramatic charade.

You froze, his eyes boring into yours as if he was searching for some sort of green light while you didn’t want to pull away from his touch.

But you saw through it all, your past reminding you that he was going to abandon you again, that the same flicker of hope in your chest was futile to have.

You broke out of his hold, looping beneath his arm to place your back on his. “Because we’re drawn to each other fire and gasoline.”, you respond to his question but you felt his back move as he inhaled deeply.

“I don’t remember it being like that.”, he said softly and the fire within you died. Replaced with the warmth of his body, you leaned back into it. Tilting your head back for a second, to rest it on the rise of his shoulder blade.

“ How do you remember it?”, you asked as you both caught your breaths, it was foolish to relive those moments.

“Quiet nights where you held me close.”, he said it and those memories washed over you. His hand softly wrapping around your wrist to pull to the front.

“Your constant belief in me.”, he took your hand in his, his thumbs slowly tracing your knuckles over the scars you had from scraping them during your workout.

But the sudden reality of where you were ripped you from the comfort of your memories. You pulled away your hand before he could place it on his cheek. You wanted to go home. You wanted to ignore him again, so you tugged his hand behind his back as you pushed him, destabilizing him to make him fall but what you didn’t predict was how he took you along with him.

He cushioned your fall, his hand up the small of your back while yours were sprawled out over him, you could hear the thump of his heart under your palm and the way his chest rose and fell with his rapid breathing.

“Why won’t you let me open up to you again?”, he looked hurt and as you took in his features, he looked tired. The eyebags under his eyes were a bit prominent, rough stubble lined his jaw. He looked like a mess.

“Enemies don’t confide in each other. It’s not good to have your secrets known by someone else.”, you told him but all you wanted to do was lean in and hold the side of his face.

“But you know all my secrets.”, his gaze flitted to your lips before he found yours again.

“And I know all of yours.”, he whispered tracing his hand lower, over the curve of your hip and into the edge of your inner thigh.

Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Tell me you miss me.”, he pleaded.

“Tell me you want me.”, he sighed as though he was harboring a broken heart.

“I can’t pretend to hate you anymore.”, he held you firm against his body, not giving your room to escape.

“You broke my heart, Miguel. I can hate you for however long I wish.”, you pushed away from him, leaving him lying on the floor. You didn’t want to continue this conversation. You didn’t want to have the loneliness in his voice stuck in your head. You grabbed your bag and began to walk to the door. But he got up and followed you.

“Don’t you think it broke mine to send you away?”, he asked, now his voice simmering with pent up anger.

“I did it to keep you safe.”, he continued and you continued to walk away.

“No it’s because you don’t think I’m capable enough to take care of myself.”, you spoke but he caught your wrist getting you to stop, to turn to him.

“deja de alejarte.”, he grumbled.

So you stayed still, his face crumbling as he revealed his true intentions

“no hay otra mujer.”, he spoke.

“no hay forma de olvidarte.”, he said passionately

“así que sácame de mi miseria.”, he sat down on the bench leading you to stand in the space between his legs.

“ya no puedo hacer esto.”, he said finally pulling you closer by the hem of your pants to place his head on your abdomen.

He had done it out of the fear of his past. He was afraid of losing all this while all you had done was assume the worst. You sunk your fingers into his hair, your anger disappearing because all this while it was trying to tell you that you still loved him. You hated him because you were fighting it but now, as his warm breath skimmed over the skin of your torso.

Maybe putting him out of his misery would also put you out of yours. Because the solution was the same. You were both lovesick.

“Did you really mean it when you said my fighting stance had flaws?”, you asked jokingly.

“No.”, he mumbled his arms now wrapping around yours as he nuzzled further.

“Fine. I forgive you then.”, you stroked his hair as he looked up at you, his eyes now relaxing into those tender pink hues.

“de verdad?”, he asked as he smiled, the one he reserved only for you.

You nodded your head and couldn’t help but smile as he beamed, the sadness had disappeared from his face. You stepped away from him, it was getting late and all this reconciliation had put you in a much better mood. You could finally relax, so you bid him goodbye while he sat there, watching you leave.

You took a few steps and as the cold air wrapped around you, you changed your mind. You turned to him to see that his eyes were on you with that stupid grin on his face because he knew, he knew you would turn to run back to him. Dropping your bag were you stood, you walked towards him as if you had been parched and he stood to meet you halfway with such immediacy that it was clear that you both had missed eachother.

His hands fit perfectly around your waist, your lips found its home on his and now sheltered in the dark corner of an empty gymnasium, there was no need to rush. He pulled you by the edge of your jaw to kiss you passionately at first but then it simmered, almost as if he wanted to be here for hours, his lips moving softly and slowly over yours with no need to feel breathless as he gave you perfect interludes to inhale and exhale as he whispered his sweet adoration.

“eres mi única chica soñada.”, he said it with his eyes closed, his lips travelled wherever it pleased just like his hands, making up for all the time you had lost.

“You won’t ask me to leave again,”, you paused, his eyes snapping to yours as he took in the creases on your forehead.

“Will you?”, you asked, your voice bearing out your vulnerability of being heart broken again. You wouldn't be able to get through it again. You would have to carry his memory forever.

“nunca”, he said it with conviction as he tucked your hair behind your ear to then cup your cheek.

“Now let me kiss your worries away.”, he lulled you towards him with his sweet voice and there was no resisting that invitation.

[daisyjoners]

​𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐃𝐄𝐍 & 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇.

                                  how did we get here? how do we get out? we used to be somethin' to see — oh, baby, look at us now. this thing we've been doin' ain't workin' out, why can't you just admit it to me?

@rhaenyrz

[amhrosina]

Afterglow (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Masterlist // Join My Taglist

a/n: another taylor swift song fic lmfao i just cannot help myself, this one is so angsty i almost felt bad for Matt just writing it (someone pls give that man a hug, he NEEDS one) also i feel so bad about not posting that i didnt even send this one to my beta reader i just posted it and hoped for the best lmfao

Summary: Matt and Reader have an argument that feels like it might be relationship-ending after Matt's hectic lifestyle as Daredevil catches up with him.

warnings: ANGST BRO SO MUCH ANGST, matty really just deserves the world, angry matt at the beginning, soft matt and foggy convo, matt doesn't know how to accept love, super soft matt at the end, some religious imagery i guess, happy ending

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I blew things out of proportion, now you're blue

Put you in jail for something you didn’t do

I pinned your hands behind your back, oh

Thought I had reason to attack, but no

Fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves

Chemistry 'til it blows up, 'til there’s no us

Why'd I have to break what I love so much?

It's on your face, and I'm to blame, I need to say

The door slammed behind Matt in a fitful rage, and he was so pissed off, so intense in his anger that he wanted to turn around and slam it again, just to lash out a second time. It was so unlike him to be this way, so unlike him to allow the festering wound that was his soul show itself so plainly, but it had been a long night, long year, long life and he was fucking tired.

And you. You. You. You. You’d been caught in the crossfire. 

“Fuck.” Matt breathed, already regretting the argument that he’d started simply because he hadn’t been able to reel the Devil back in after a long night. The tight leash he held on the part of him that he hated, the part of him that you’d never seen because he’d hidden it so deep inside himself every night, was a ghost in his hands. The line between Matthew the person and Daredevil the vigilante had been blurring for months, but tonight was the first time he’d let it slip through the careful facade he’d been constructing around himself. He was a shattered window, ready to break at the slightest bit of pressure. 

The cold sliced into Matt’s skin as he stepped through the doorway at the front of his building, a sobering chill of wind that triggered the memory of your eyes welling with tears. He’d been relentless in his anger, and what for? Because he had a bad night? Because he couldn’t save everyone, and somehow that was your fault? 

Asshole is the word you’re looking for, Matthew.

Matt groaned and pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing Foggy’s number before he could talk himself out of it.

“It’s three in the morning, Matt.” Foggy said by way of greeting, voice still heavy with sleep. “You’re not somewhere dying are you?”

“Only metaphorically.” Matt replied, shuffling his feet. He lowered himself to sit on the stairs beneath him, huffing as his body settled against the concrete. The metal of the railing dug into his temple as he rested his head against it, an uncomfortable reminder that the only person to blame for this was himself.

“You okay?” Foggy’s tone had shifted from a sleepy annoyance to somewhat concerned. 

Matt closed his eyes. He didn’t deserve the love he received from his friends.

“I’m-” He started, but cut himself off when he realized he had no idea what he was going to say. Was he okay? No, he didn’t think so. 

“You’re kinda freaking me out here, man.”

“I fucked up, Foggy.” He deflated as he admitted it.

“With her?” Foggy pressed.

“With her. With everything.” Matt shrugged, blinking away the tears burning the back of his eyes. Your sudden return to his thoughts felt like whiplash, and he couldn’t catch his breath. “She deserves better than me.”

“Matt,” Foggy chided, and Matt could tell he was shaking his head, “Don’t say that. She loves you.” 

“Maybe not anymore.” Matt knew how ridiculous and juvenile he sounded, but the Matthew-Murdock-party-of-one pity party was in full effect, and he was leaning into the sad corner of his being so aggressively he couldn’t stop himself from saying it.

“She loves you.” Foggy repeated. “I don’t think anything could change that. What happened?”

“I had a bad night and yelled at her. It was stupid and I feel like an ass-”

“An asshole.” Foggy finished, and Matt couldn’t stop the chuckle that followed this observation. “Listen, did you tell her any of this?”

“Not yet.” The longer Matt sat, the more he hated himself for leaving. The words he had shouted echoed in his mind. “She should just leave. I’m never going to be able to give her what she deserves.”

“What about what you deserve, Matt?” Foggy asked, heated in the defense of his very best friend, “You deserve to be loved, too.”

Matt sat with Foggy’s statement for a second, letting the love wash over him for the briefest moment. Is this what it’s like for the kind of people who can easily accept the love of others? His body felt warm and fuzzy, an unfamiliar but comforting sensation that had him rubbing the heel of his hand across his chest.

“I should go apologize and hope to God she’ll take me back.” Matt sighed.

“She will, Matt.” Foggy assured him. “She will.”

Matt returned the phone to his pocket and turned, heading back into the place that held his entire aching heart.

It's so excruciating to see you low

Just wanna lift you up and not let you go

This ultraviolet morning light below

Tells me this love is worth the fight, oh

I lived like an island, punished you with silence

Went off like sirens, just crying

Why'd I have to break what I love so much?

It’s on your face, don't walk away, I need to say

Hey, it's all me, in my head

I'm the one who burned us down

But it's not what I meant

Sorry that I hurt you

When Matt reentered the apartment, it had only been twenty minutes since he’d stormed out, but it had felt like hours. You were in the same place that he’d left you - curled up in a sitting position on the sofa - except now your cheeks were coated with salty tears that permeated the air around you. Matt tasted them on his tongue the second he opened the door, a twinge of pain shooting through his chest as he realized just how bad the situation was. You were so deep in thought, cycling through the words Matt had spat at you, that you hadn’t noticed his arrival.

“Petal?” Matt called softly, alerting you to his presence in the room. You startled, turning to look in his direction. The silence before you responded was deafening and anxiety inducing, something Matt had never handled well. He wrung his hands together and took a step closer to you. Finally, you spoke.

“You came back.”

Not a question, but not really a statement either. A simple observation that left Matt stumbling over his words. 

“I uh…never really left. I was just downstairs.” He scratched the back of his neck. “On the steps out front. I didn’t go far.”

“I thought you weren’t coming back.”

Matt’s lip wobbled as he inhaled sharply and asked, “Do you want me to go?”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that question. He listened to your answer anyway. He would listen to any words you had to offer, even if they were words that might kill him.

“You said some terrible things, Matt.” You sniffled, sighing heavily as another wave of tears coated your cheeks. “You said ‘If you can’t handle this, I don’t think we should be together anymore.’ And the funny thing is, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be handling.”

“Petal, I-” Matt began, shaking his head.

“No, Matt.” Your voice had suddenly become very firm and very loud, all at once. Matt flinched. “I’m not finished.” You adjusted your body, leaning your head back against the sofa before continuing. “I don’t know who you are anymore. My Matty would never keep things from me or disappear for days at a time or yell at me. The man I fell in love with is missing, and I don’t know what to do to get him back.”

The hold Matt had on his tears was obliterated as you admitted your feelings to him. Warm tears fell down his face, every droplet an admission of guilt. You were right, of course. Matt hadn’t felt like himself in months, and instead of trying to get a grip on himself, he had been leaning into the suit every night, forcing his mind to focus on other things. He always took on the brunt of the pain in any situation - he’d been doing this his entire life - but he had not realized how much of that pain was being transferred to you every time he forgot himself.

“Baby, I’m- I can’t even say how sorry I am.” Matt sank to his knees in front of you, pleading. “You’re right about everything, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be good enough for you or come home to you after work like a normal boyfriend would and I’m sorry for the things I said. I never wanted to hurt you the way I did. I will never, ever, deserve your love.” He swallowed a sob as he admitted what he thought was the truest thing he’d ever said out loud. “Foggy told me I deserve love but I’ve thought and thought about it and I can’t imagine a world where your love will ever feel like anything but a gift to me.”

You sighed again, sniffling as you lifted your hand to cradle Matt’s wet cheek.

“I know I’m fucking it up. I’m sorry I can’t be more. This is all I have to offer, and I know it’s selfish to ask you to keep loving me but I can’t be without you. You’re all I have.”

“I don’t understand, Matty.” You shook your head, furrowing your brows.

“You’re the only thing that brings me home. And I don’t mean physically. You’re the only reason I can find my way back to myself. You remind me of the love the world is capable of. Not even Foggy can do that for me the way that you do. Can’t you see that you’re it for me? Without you, I am just a man walking hand in hand with the Devil. There is no point without you.”

“Matty.” You sighed, caressing his cheekbones as tears cascaded down his face. 

Matt wasn’t sure what he wanted you to say. That he did deserve love, or maybe that you weren’t going to leave him after tonight was over, or maybe anything besides ‘I don’t love you anymore’. 

“Don’t leave me.” He begged, barely above a whisper, so tired of the war raging in his mind. If there was anything he was capable of doing tonight, it was pleading with you for this. Beyond that, he was useless. “Don’t leave.”

“Will you lay with me?” You asked, and Matt nearly collapsed into your hold. It was not what he was expecting, but he would take it. The inevitable self-hatred and doubt about this moment echoed in the back of his mind, but he was ignoring it for once. All he wanted to do was lay with you, so that’s exactly what he did.

Tell me that you're still mine

Tell me that we'll be just fine

Even when I lose my mind

I need to say

Tell me that it's not my fault

Tell me that I'm all you want

Even when I break your heart

I need to say

I don't wanna do, I don't wanna do this to you (Ooh)

I don't wanna lose, I don't wanna lose this with you (Ooh)

I need to say, hey, it's all me, just don't go

Meet me in the afterglow

Matt was on the verge of tears again, lying next to you in the bed that you had shared with each other for so many nights. He was so afraid of losing this, losing you. He wasn’t entirely sure he would survive if you asked him to leave after this. He wasn’t entirely sure that mindset was healthy, either, but that didn’t stop him from contemplating it. He was here, and you were here, and if he was destined to live in this doubt forever, then at least he would die next to you.

Your tears had long dried up, but the ache deep inside you was palpable and overwhelming and he didn’t know what to do. The hand you had led him here with, the one that you still held, the only thing connecting your body to his was his safety blanket. This was what people called a safe space, he thought. For the first time in a long time, Matt began to silently pray.

He prayed for you, and he prayed for himself, and mostly, he prayed for love. He prayed that the night would last forever, so that he could lay next to you for the remainder of his life. He prayed for forgiveness, and begged for yours. He prayed for the strength it would take if you didn’t grant it to him. Because if you asked him to leave, he would. It would hurt and possibly - no, definitely - kill him, but he’d do it, because you deserved that, at least. The possibilities of the night were endless, and that was the scariest thing to Matt. Anything could happen.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, lightly squeezing his hand.

“I’m praying.” He murmured, squeezing your hand back.

“About what?”

“About you.” 

“Oh, Matty.” 

The smile on your face, the steady thump of your elevated heart rate, felt like a win. Comfortable silence overtook the room, and you were so still for so long that anyone else might’ve thought you had fallen asleep, but Matt knew better. You were thinking, contemplating every word that had been shouted, pleaded, and begged tonight. All the while, Matt prepared himself for the worst.

“The sun’s coming up.” You murmured.

“Yeah?” It was all he could muster. Everything hurt, and he never wanted this moment to end.

“Yeah.” You swept your fingertips over his cheeks, following the path of the sun as it draped itself across both of your bodies. 

Matt swallowed, opened his mouth to ask the dreaded question, and then closed it and swallowed again. The gentle caress of your fingers felt like a brand in his skin. Finally, in a thick voice he asked for the second time in a matter of hours, “Do you want me to go?”

“Oh, Matty.” You whispered, tears welling in your eyes, and Matt’s heart sank into the ground below him. He thought he could do this, but he couldn’t. He was just supposed to leave what you had built with him? After everything, he was just supposed to count his losses and move on? No fucking way. His breathing had picked up, and he was so focused on his pounding heart that he almost missed the rest of your sentence. “I never wanted you to go. I just wanted you to understand how lonely I’ve been without you. I’m upset with you, but I’ll always love you, and I’ll never be the one asking you to leave.”

Matt stopped breathing for a moment, soaking in the warm relief as it crashed through him. He didn’t have to go, and you loved him. You loved him. You loved him.

“Are you sure?” He forced himself to ask, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

You let out a small giggle and pressed your lips to his forehead before responding. “Of course I’m sure, Matty. But it has to change, okay? We can’t do this to each other again.”

Matt could hardly believe the words coming out of your mouth. He would do anything to keep you here, holding him, keeping him safe, loving him. Anything.

“I promise.” He murmured, grabbing at your face to pull it closer to his. “I love you.”

He pressed a million kisses into your face until you let out the melodic laugh that he felt he could get drunk on. He would do anything to hear that sound again, to be the one causing that sound. Anything.

-

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[upsidedownwithsteve]

ATTENTION CAMPERS,

“fighting with a true love, is boxing with no gloves. chemistry ‘til it blows up, ‘til there’s no us. why’d I have to break what I love so much?”

- AFTERGLOW BY TAYLOR SWIFT

The drive was the same, if not quieter.

The roads hadn’t changed and maybe the trees were taller, but the sun was still too bright, too warm, a little mocking considering your mood. Your car was still shit and it still protested when you took corners too quickly.

The sign welcoming you into the forest was the same, a little weather worn, familiar and like home. The car park was emptier than usual, but then again, you’d never arrived this early before. Robin was by a delivery truck, hat on backwards despite the way she squinted into the sun to see you roll to a stop.

She grinned, waving but you saw the confusion there and your stomach dropped and twisted, that same awful feeling that had sat in the pit of your stomach for the last month.

Camp Upside Down seemed far too quiet when you finally opened the car door and set a foot on the old pine needles. Like something was missing.

“Hey,” Robin rushed in with a hug, warm and sweet. “You’re here early.” She gave that same frown, lips set into a confused smile as she looked through your windscreen, at the empty passenger seat. “Where’s Steve?”

You swallowed, the pit in your stomach opening up into a yawning thing, a wide open canyon that swallowed everything nice. It rolled, a storm between two cliffs and it made your bones ache. Acid touched your tongue and it only burned more when you tried to push it back down.

“Uh,” your voice broke, just a little, enough for Robin's eyes to widen. “We broke up.”

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Thinking about the fact that Delta!Sans canonically is a plural character cuz he absorbed the Bravery soul and now they share a body and can canonically have soul-to-soul conversations and time kinda freezes for them when they do.

Thinking about how Ultratale!Chara is referred to as Omega and Delta is Delta and thinking about the kiddo tryna call themself Alpha cuz they’re “cool and manly and tough.” But somehow Delta manages to convince the kid to settle on being nicknamed Beta instead, symbolism of being a second-in-command and all that.

Thinking about Delta wandering by stores and getting distracted because the kid spotted some cool boxing gloves or action figures in the glass windows and then Delta shows up late to his meetings with Epic and Color, carrying bags of toys, because the kid started crying when Delta tried to leave without buying them anything.

Or whenever the Epic Sanses hang out, Delta always makes sure to order something sweet for the kid to enjoy because listening to “grown up talk” is boring and not fun and if he doesn’t Delta will be dealing with a headache all evening.

Thinking about Delta trying to keep the kid away from the worse of the fighting and all the worse things that the Multiverse has to offer, because the kid dreams about their death at Asgore’s hands and what it felt like being held in a container for centuries almost every night. But the kid always insists that they’re brave and tough and strong and they can handle everything.

Delta taking every opportunity he safely can to allow the kiddo to be a kid again. Decorating their shared room in their apartment in the Omega Timeline, making a spot in the corner designated for Beta. He sets time aside to allow them to partake in activities of their choosing, such as puzzles, strategy games, and competitive games.

Thinking about Color and Delta hanging up all of Beta’s drawings on their fridge like proud parents, and Color sometimes just sitting and listening to Beta yap to all the other six souls absorbed inside Color because, unlike Beta, they aren’t exactly their own full people anymore but it makes the kid feel less alone.

Letting the kid explore the surface and play in the sun whenever possible, as they spent who knows how many years trapped Underground in a jar. Maybe Delta even gets glimpses of Beta’s memories whenever they dream, the loneliness and claustrophobia of being trapped in a jar. The fear of being hunted down by monsters throughout the Underground and having to face down someone as intimidating as Asgore, the pain and fear of death, experienced through the eyes of a child. A very brave and strong child, but a child nonetheless.

Maybe Beta clung to the few embers of warmth they had when they were living under Toriel’s care, and Delta/Sans gets to see his friend in a new light, but also he gets to make true on his promise by at least keeping an eye on and taking care of Beta when he couldn’t for Frisk.

I think Delta possibly considers what happened to his Frisk a very deep and personal failure, made worse by the Toriel that Beta remembers—because Delta gets to see how much Toriel loved each and every fallen child and he can imagine the grief she felt when they all left and died. I’d like to think that AUs of Asgore, heights, spears, being alone, and enclosed spaces are all fears for Beta, so Delta always tries to reassure them even though they attempt to be brave every time.

So basically both of them are struggling with PTSD, and also Beta with the fact that they’re now in a body that isn’t their own after however many years of not having a body. And also the fact that any friends or family they might’ve had when they were alive are likely dead now, so I’d imagine that Delta would try to search down and visit any graves of Beta’s family whenever visiting Ultratale or any of its variants.

Beta proposes making graves for the residents of the Underground too, probably in the Omega Timeline. And given that Delta is friends with Epic who is friends with Cross who shares a soul with XChara, I can already imagine the trouble that XChara and Beta would get into.

[frylocks-cardigan]

Bedtime routines!

Over the years, despite all of their wild adventures, the boys had developed something of a routine; a sense of normality and comfort that started at dinner time every night like clockwork.

"How's your food, boys?"

"Damn good, Frylock! Thanks for ordering pizza!" Frylock smiled, a soft nod towards his brother, covering his mouth to chew.

"Don't mention it. Hey Shake! Bring me another beer man," Frylock shouted softly before adding, "And Wad here another apple juice."

There was a small grumble of protest, but otherwise the taller man stumbled his way back into the room, two beers still in the plastic hung from a finger while he tossed Meatwad a juice box.

"Hey, so what story should you read to us tonight? I was thinking-"

"Oh, excuse you mister," Frylock scolded, accusing eyes pointed at the blonde. "I hope you plan on brushing your teeth tonight, I know you remember me saying-"

"Oh my god, I am not stupid Frylock! Of course I was going to brush my teeth! Oh don't you look stupid!"

Frylock cocked an eyebrow but said nothing else, they'd just have to see if he'd stay true to his word...

A soft knock on the bathroom door, "Come in!"

Frylock stepped inside, flashing silver in a proud smile at Meatwad through the mirror.

"Good boy, Wad. I assume Shake hasn't been in here yet?"

"Oh, nah. He been gone. Said he went out to hunt for bitches, somethin' like that." Frylock scowled and crossed his arms.

"Oh, he's not even home, huh? Okay. I'll meet you in your room for you story, okay? Shake's gonna learn his lesson tonight."

After Meatwad was tucked into bed, story told, forehead kissed and heating pad turned on, Frylock blew him a kiss before shutting the door with a yawn.

Just as he'd gotten settled into his own bed, now in pajama bottoms and void of a shirt, he heard Shake saunter in through the front door and slam it shut. Frylock hummed, low and relaxed, arms behind his head and eyes on the ceiling. Listening, waiting.

3... 2... 1...

"Hey! Where the hell is my story!?"

Right on que, Frylocks bedroom swung open, an angry and clearly buzzed Shake swaying at the door.

"Before you even try to fight me, Shake," Frylock started, sitting up in bed to point an accusing finger. "You knew the rules. They're simple, and the same, every damn night! Brush your teeth, be in bed on time. You know this, don't act surprised."

"..." Frylock sighed as tears puddled in Shakes eyes.

"Don't," He warned, Shakes lip quivering. ...He was such a push over.

Or maybe he just loved his brothers.

"Fine, Oh my god. Grab a book and-" Before he could finish Shake jumped into his bed, book already in hand, a wide and sheepish smile on his rosey face. He shimmied out of his hoodie and threw his hat on the floor next to it, keeping the gloves on. He snuggled up to Frylock.

"Thank yooooou...~"

Frylock rolled his eyes, and before his could begin reading there was a small whimper at the door. The oldest brother sighed.

"Come on in, Meatwad."

Almost immediatly the bed dipped softly next to him. The room soon filled with his honey smooth voice, and within minutes it was joined by the soft snores of two needy men.

He couldn't help but chuckle softly, setting the book aside, and after a quick kiss to both of their heads Frylock reached over Meatwad to flick off the lamp before laying down.

Shake snuggled up to his side, face buried in his armpit and Meatwads cheek pressed to his chest, small hand fisted into his shit, Frylock felt thankful for the family he'd found. No matter how difficult, he wouldn't have things any other way.

[chasingfictions]

I understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars / with you I serve, with you I fall down / when I’d fight you used to tell me I was brave / I can see you staring honey, like he’s just your understudy, like you’d get your knuckles bloody for me / and you can aim for my heart go for blood, but you’d still miss me in your bones / fighting with a true love is like boxing with no gloves / my knuckles were bruised like violets / I just wanna stay in that lavender haze / this ultraviolet morning light below tells me this love is worth the fight / all that bloodshed crimson clover / clover blooms in the fields spring breaks loose but so does fear / so yeah it’s a war, it’s the goddamn fight of my life and you started it / my sleepless night, my winless fight, this has frozen my ground / it was real enough (whether weather be the frost) / soldier down on that icy ground looked up at me with honor and truth, broken and blue, so I called off the troops / I vowed not to fight anymore if we survived the Great War / threw out our cloaks and our daggers because it’s morning now, it’s brighter now / I pinned your hands behind your back, oh, thought I had reason to attack, but no / and some things you just can’t speak about / when did all our lessons start to look like weapons? / flesh and blood amongst war machines / fighting in only your army, front lines don’t you ignore me / you’re not my homeland anymore, so what am I defending now? / I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace, and so the battleships will sink beneath the waves / I’ve got a hundred thrown out speeches I almost said to you / can’t remember what I used to fight for / you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) / sending signals to be double crossed / not what she seemed not the twin from your dreams she’s a crook who was caught / now I’m down bad waking up in blood /

[spookyghouly]

goodevening ghesties

i luckily tested negative for covid this morning meaning i was FINALLY free from quarantine isolation just in time to go to the ghost concert!! this is my 5th ritual in as many years and it may have been the best (though, you never forget your first 😉). here’s my ghost kia forum night 1 concert breakdown of best moments, in no particular order!

cumulus and aurora ghoulettes twirling each other, blowing kisses to each other, stroking each other’s cheeks. this one was for the dykes <3

popia, drawing out the ending to mary on a cross: “are you guys still saying cross?? I want you to say MARIJUANA!!!!!”

ABSOLUTION F U C K E D LIVE!!!!

Respite ALSO fucked like the BASS IN THE BEGINNING?? I FELT IT IN MY CHEST IN MY LUNGS, I THINK IT MADE MY HEART BEAT DIFFERENTLY. SOUL RESET. I almost cried when copia left the stage thinking about how this is probably my last time seeing him (I completely forgot the encore existed I was too swept up in It All ™ you know?)

Dancing Skeletons. They better release the film because I want to study it to learn their dance.

they had two stages set up, the normal one up front and a mini set up in the back with a grand piano and several chairs. more on that in a sec.

Seestor gave papa a boxing robe and gloves for “fighting” his way back from the small stage to the main stage. the crowd started barking at him to hype him up like he was actually about to enter a boxing ring lmaoo

when he got to the back stage papa said it was so nice to see the people in the back “in the stevie wonder seats” lmaoooo

then he said he wanted to bite us???? and had us all snarl at him like we were biting dogs. deranged behavior. love him.

okay no my true fav moment was the orchestral arrangement of if you have ghosts. it put me in such a throwback to the first ghost ritual I attended in london when he took time to introduce each band member just as ghoul. 5 years later and on another continent, it is an even more beautiful arrangement of the song. The band members were 2 cellists and a grand piano player—I couldn’t tell if the woman to the far right was playing a theremin or vocalizing—if anyone knows can you tell me?

the skeletons picked papa up at the stage right mini stage and had him like crowd surf on top of them all the way back to center stage it was AWESOME?? I hope they got a cool overhead shot of it for the recording.

they definitely knew we were all anxious he was dying tonight and there were many moments where papa faked us out that he was dying. after the first or second song he made a comment like “ah we are quickly approaching the end of this era” and later when he told us to “not be sad it’s almost over, you’ve had a good fucking time and then it must end” I couldn’t help but think he was talking about more than just the concert

on a related note, when the skeletons first came out in twenties they circled papa and I think it was a deliberate fake out/homage to when he ascended in mexico city last year when the nuns circled him.

met many delightful ppl giving away handmade bracelets, stickers, and trinkets, as well as someone who had scooped up a bunch of mummy dust bucks from the confetti gun and was passing them out by the exit 🥰💜 u people made my day

anyway here’s that haul:

this has been the update from new plushia at the forum, goodnight folks!