#(( i actually had this one saved in my docs as well ))

[crossbackpoke-check]

I have to ask about good dog bad dream <3

🥰🥰 oh i was HOPING for this one. ok so y’all may actually know a little bit already because it exists in the tags as tyler borzoituzzi but! good dog bad dream is the working document title/notes compilation for a fic that started with the premise of “well you see that’s actually not a dog that’s my blorbo from my hrpf shifter wolf au—”

and, because i have never formally addressed it or put it anywhere other than the tags, three important details about this fic:

this IS a semi-au fic about the detroit red wings, set vaguely in the 2018-19 season, because the wings sucked that year (but not as bad as 2019-20)

this is ALSO a fic that is mainly about tyler bertuzzi and dylan larkin, with some other wings thrown in because i've never met an ensemble i couldn't shove into a love story

this 100% exists because of mickey redmond calling tyler a junkyard dog every chance he gets and me every time going "okay but what if literally though" -> 🐺

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Ferine.

Pairing: Yandere!Toji x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 4.1k.

TW: Hybrid AU, Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Slight Manipulation, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Knotting, Mentions of Blood + Violence, Slight Breeding, and Biting.

Toji was, by far, the largest hybrid you’d ever taken care of.

Which, technically speaking, wasn’t that big of an accomplishment. This was barely your third month at the research facility, and you could count the number of hybrids you’d encountered before being hired here on a single hand. Still, even compared to the other wolves you currently looked after, Toji was beyond impressive. His long, pointed ears and stocky build set him well above six-foot, and even if he’d lacked height, he would’ve been able to make up for it with the planes of sculpted muscle circled around his biceps and thighs, laid over his chest and back. Top it all off with a set of claws each longer than your pointer finger and sharp enough to pierce reinforced steel, and he was practically fit for exhibit. Not that Toji could ever actually be a show dog, no – he’d tear the judges apart before they’d so much as heard his name. He was sweet, but he had a temper. You had to be careful not to set him off.

His fangs were impressive, too – perfectly in-tact despite years of less-than-adequate care, only a touch duller than a real wolf’s. You were careful not to let your hand stray from where it cupped his cheek as you looked for signs of damage or rot only to, of course, come up empty. The longer you spent with him, the more convinced you were that nothing could actually hurt Toji, even if the faded scar stitched into the corner of his mouth suggested otherwise.

“All done,” you started, letting go of his cheek. Immediately, Toji’s jaw snapped shut with enough strength to take off a finger, had you given him the chance. “Perfect as always, Toji. I think you might be my best patient.”

A cocky smile found its way to his lips, and you could hear his tail beating lazily against the dirt floor of his enclosure. The facility was committed to replicating the natural environments of their more exotic hybrids as closely as possible, even if Toji claimed he’d trade it all for a punching bag, or better yet, something ‘real’ to dig his teeth into, whatever that meant. “Do I get a treat, doc?”

It was asked playfully, but still, you hummed by way of confirmation, pulling your duffle bag into your lap and fishing Toji’s well-earned rewards – a generic chocolate bar and a can of some painfully acidic, sickeningly sweet brand of soda your hybrid patients couldn’t seem to get enough of. It was a meager prize, but it was as much as you were able to spare considering how strict his caretakers were when it came to his diet. You’d probably save yourself a few dirty looks if you didn’t give him anything at all, but it didn’t feel right to leave him empty-handed.

He accepted your humble offering greedily. While the chocolate bar was stowed away for later consumption, the can was pierced with a clawed thumb and emptied in one long, unpleasantly audible swig. You’d only started to push yourself to your feet when Tojj finished, letting the now empty can fall to the ground before turning his attention back to you. “It hurts my feelings, knowing you’re just gonna run off and put your hands on another animal.” His ear pressed flat against his scalp, as if he was trying (and failing) to feign disappointment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d start to think you didn’t really care about all the time we’ve spent together.”

“You’re not exactly in desperate need of medical attention,” you chided, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “And I’m on a schedule. Not all of us can sit around, grooming ourselves all day.”

That earned a breathy laugh, a coy lilt to his smile. “Well, if you wanted to take a shot at it, I wouldn’t—”

“Save it. I get enough of that with the cats.” Just thinking about it made you grimace. It was one thing to think that Toji might bite you. Knowing Satoru and Suguru – the bonded leopard and panther pair who shared a check-up date with Toji – would insist on licking any exposed skin raw before letting you do your job was a much more tangible reality. “I’ll see you in a couple of days. You’ll be good until then, right?”

“I’m gonna gut those fucking strays.” His answer was blunt, immediate, but he cracked as soon you shot him a purse-lipped frown. “Kidding, kidding. I’ll just rough ‘em up a little – make ‘em regret putting their paws on you, y’know?”

You couldn’t help but soften. Toji was rough around the edges, but he wasn’t a bad dog. He just had a protective streak and that, paired with his brash personality and tendency to bite before he barked, was enough for most people to write him off.

You really did have a long, long list of other appointments you had to get to before the end of the day, but against your better judgement, you paused as you passed him, reaching down to rake your fingers through sleek black hair. He was stoic, especially for a hybrid, but even his cool, dark eyes and wry smile couldn’t hide the way his tail moved just a little faster at the feeling of your nails raking over his scalp, his ears immediately perking up. It only took a second for him to bat your hand away, but you only laughed as you started towards the staff exit, waving to Toji over your shoulder.

Maybe, for his next check-up, you’d see if you could sneak in something special.

~

“Your mutt’s been unruly, lately.”

You glanced up from your clipboard, turning your full attention to Nanami and quickly finding that he hadn’t paid you the same courtesy. He was one of the senior researchers and, so far, the only one you could stand to be around for any longer than a few minutes. Since the higher-ups expected you to fill out your reports with one hand while you took a four-hundred-pound tiger’s temperature with the other, you tended to camp out in Nanami’s office when you had paperwork to file. “Toji?” Nanami nodded, and you rolled your eyes. “I’m just the vet, Kento. If his handlers aren’t doing their—”

“The problem isn’t his handlers, it’s him.”

His voice was flat, his tone icy. You laid your clipboard over your lap, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s an animal. It’d be more out of character if he didn’t lash out occasionally.”

Nanami opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly. After a lengthy pause, he leaned back in his seat, bringing a hand to his temples and massaging absentmindedly. “Do you know why he hasn’t been released back into the wild, yet?”

Obviously. Working with hybrids – let alone exotic hybrids – was dangerous, and your debriefing had drilled the face, name, and background of every animal in the facility into your memory. “He was born in captivity. He’s too acclimated to human society to adjust to the wilderness.”

Nanami pressed his lips into a thin line – an expression you’d learned to read as ‘you’re right, but I’m not going to say that’. Still, a degree of satisfaction accompanied his silent confirmation. “He was found in a dog fighting ring – or, what was left of one, at least. It took three rounds of sedation and two broken muzzles before our recovery team was able to get him under control.”

A knot formed at the base of your throat. Fuck chocolate, Toji deserved a blanket and as many hugs as he would let you give him. “That’s terrible, Kento. Were the organizers arrested?”

“The organizers—” Nanami straightened. “—were found mauled and stuffed into a kennel. Their bodies were so thoroughly mutilated, we had to rely on blood samples to identify them.”

“Wolves aren’t known for attacking unprovoked. It could’ve been another—”

“One of his handlers is currently hospitalized,” Nanami went on, as if you hadn’t cut in. “And two have already turned in their resignations – a resounding fear for their welfare in the workplace, supposedly.”

Your eyes fell to the floor, and that knot in your throat tightened until only the barest whisper could find its way out. “He’s not a bad dog,” you muttered, nearly under your breath. “He just— He loses his temper, sometimes. He doesn’t mean to hurt anymore.”

“He’s never tried to hurt you?”

You didn’t have to think before shaking your head. “Never.”

That, of all things, seemed to catch Nanami’s attention. For the first time, his eyes flickered briefly to you before falling back to his desk, his paperwork. “Good,” he said, marking down something on a piece of scrap paper in front of him. If he felt the need to elaborate, he clearly didn’t deem it worth the effort.

Later that day, you were informed that you were being transferred to the reptile wing indefinitely. If you’d been there for a few more months, if you’d had a little more experience to throw around, if you’d had a little more authority, you might’ve protested, but it was all you could do to nod and set to memorizing your new schedule.

~

It took exactly three weeks for you to see Toji again.

One of his handlers – a woman in her early twenties sporting a pressed scowl and a gauze-padded bandage on her cheek – met you at the facility’s gates and flatly told you that Toji was injured. You’d never been in the facilities (much less with a hybrid) after sundown, and in the simulated wilderness of his enclosure, it was easy to forget that you were never more than twenty feet away from a security camera, that there was only one apex predator you had to be afraid of. After checking your usual meeting spot (clear spot near the center of his enclosure – neutral territory, safe territory) and finding it vacant, you reluctantly stumbled your way to his den, dragging your feet despite the urgency of the situation. Toji wouldn’t deliberately attack you, but any animal could react if provoked. You didn’t want to set him off. More importantly, you didn’t want to prove Nanami right.

You’d never ventured far enough to see his den, but you knew what to expect. A square shell of cement occupied the deepest corner of Toji’s enclosure, bracketed off by a metal door tucked inside of a deep entryway meant to give the illusion of privacy. You approached it slowly, stepping underneath the shadowed overhang with no small amount of caution, but you didn’t get the chance to knock before a hand manifested on your shoulder and shoved you against the cold steel.

Claws bit into to the dip of your shoulder, then your wrist, too, as he caught your hand and shoved it into the small of your back. You felt hot air on the nape of your neck, heard heavy panting laced with the barest trace of a throaty growl, and it took everything you had not to panic, not to struggle, not to give him a reason to dig his teeth into your neck and tear. Toji wasn’t a bad dog, but he was still a dog. He’d still bite, if given an excuse.

“Toji,” you started, slowly, taking care to soften each harsh syllable of his name. “I’m here to help you.”

He didn’t respond, his hold only tightening. His check pressed into your back, and there was a short, airy noise – sniffing, as little as you wanted to put a name to it. “Toji,” you repeated, with more urgency. “I heard you were hurt. Will you let me help you?”

A second passed in silence, then another. Finally, he pulled away from you, releasing your wrist first, then your shoulder. He remained where he was – a little too close, a little too looming – as you shuffled to face him, forcing yourself not to consciously acknowledge that you were in a very big cage with a very poorly behaved animal. His handlers hadn’t mentioned why they’d needed you, but you didn’t have to wonder for very long. Even in the pitch dark, you could see the dark blood covering his jaw, washed over his throat and chest. It was on his hands, too, coating the white bone of his claws, and matted into his dark hair. Your waning self-control faltered then shattered altogether, your hands shooting to his head, his face, searching for bruising or swelling or broken bones, but surprisingly, all your worry earned was an airy laugh. “It’s not mine, doc.” He laid a hand over yours. “I’m doin’ just fine. Even better, now that you’re here.”

But he wasn’t. Twin sets of puncture marks were littered across his throat, his face, his arms. Something had taken a chunk out of his left bicep, and five matching scratch marks had been etched deep into the skin of his chest. The wounds looked feline, but you couldn’t bring yourself to linger on the implications. “You’re hurt,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. Your hands fell to his shoulders, pushing him downward gently. “I— I’ve got bandages, and sutures—” You let your bag fall from your shoulder to your elbow, already reaching for the zipper. “Find somewhere to sit. We should get you cleaned up before something worse sets in.”

Panic was quickly overshadowing your better judgement, but Toji didn’t move, didn’t look away from you. He was still wearing that coy, sardonic grin – almost teasing, given your anxiety. “I already told you, I’m just fine.” His smile widened, until his pointed fangs caught in the dim light. “I didn’t think you’d actually come. They said I could ask for whatever I wanted, but—” He paused, sucked in a sharp breath. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Toji, you’re not making any sense. You need help.” Again, you pushed gently on his shoulders, and again, he didn’t seem to notice. This time, though, he shifted, leaned toward you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You scowled, shoving a little less gently on his chest, but Toji didn’t move. “Toji, please, just let me help—”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, princess.” You felt his hands on your waist, then your ass. His chest was slotted against yours, and his tongue ran unabashedly over the curve of your neck once, then twice before he went on. “Keep sayin’ my name like that, and I won’t be able to control myself.”

Something pressed into your thigh – hot and hard and, like the rest of Toji, fucking huge. Your heart fell into your stomach, the air flooding out of your lungs and leaving you dazed, breathless.

Fuck. Fuck.

You should’ve stuck with the fucking reptiles.

Toji was panting audibly, again; his tongue lapping over your neck, your cheek. You were still cursing yourself for ever applying for this shitty job in the first place when Toji fell to his knees, forcing your thighs onto his shoulders as his claws caught on the fabric of your pants, decimating the thin material in an instant. His teeth tore away your panties just as quickly, leaving you exposed, splayed out on a silver platter in front of him. You reacted reflectively – knotting your fingers in his hair and doing your best to pry him away from you, but your strength was nothing compared to his and in the end, all you earned was a throaty groan, a tight squeeze to your ass before he buried his face in your cunt. His teeth grazed against the tender insides of your thighs, his claws biting into your now-unprotected skin, but the feeling of his tongue laving over the length of your slit replaced every other sensation with pure heat.

Predictably, he was near animalistic – his thick tongue fucking into you as the bridge of his nose ground shamelessly into your clit. From a distance, it would’ve been hard to tell if he was trying to eat you out or eat you alive; every noise he made feral and wet, punctuated with rough growls and little, uncharacteristic whines. It would’ve been impossible not to feel anything, but still, you couldn’t help but hate yourself when it started to feel good. His tongue was thick and textured, long enough to fill your pussy and flexible enough to curl inside of you, abusing the walls of your cunt without mercy. It was difficult to tell how much of the gloss staining his chin and the inside of your thighs was his drool and how much of it was your arousal, but even if your mind was disgusted by every slick noise and sharp flick of his tongue, there was nothing your body could do to block out the sudden pang of heat in your core, to fight the way your legs ached to clench around his head and pull the source of your revulsion that much closer.

“To—Toji, no, st—” you tried to say, like you were scolding a normal dog, like any part of you still thought he was listening. A cracked moan cut you off prematurely, and even if it hadn’t, Toji’s only response was a bruising squeeze to your ass, a low moan just loud enough to reverberate against your sensitive clit. Blinding white flashed across your vision, and before you could stop, before you could bring yourself back from that edge, you were coming undone on his tongue, your hips bucking against his face as he nursed you through your mind-numbing climax. Rather than pull away, he forced his tongue that much deeper into your pussy – taking advantage of your hypersensitivity to drag another unwilling orgasm out of you, then another, until the dried blood smeared across his lips was tacky and dripping onto your skin. He only pulled away when your little, pained sounds began to die into half-choked pleas and your limited strength failed, leaning you limp and boneless on top of him, and even then, he took the time to drag his tongue over your slit, to lap up what would’ve been wasted slick. You would’ve given anything for him to just leave you like that – messy and covered in your own arousal, but unfortunately, Toji had never been a bad dog.

His gaze flitted up to meet yours. “Sorry, princess,” he muttered, when he saw the misery knitted into your expression. The broad grin he wore was anything but apologetic, though. “Might’ve gotten carried away after all. Can’t help it – you always come to me, smellin’ like other men, and nobody ever lets me do anything about it.” He nuzzled into the inside of your thigh, nipping at the tender flesh with just enough force to break the skin. There was a tight pinch, of bright spark of pain, but Toji tended to the minimal wound lovingly, running his tongue over the thin stream of blood. “Gonna have you nice n’ scented by the end of the night.” A sharp whimper slipped past your grit teeth as the points of his fangs grazed over your skin, and Toji sighed. “Gonna have you nice n’ bred, too, if you keep making those sounds.”

Bred. Bred. Bred. You turned the offensive word over in your mind, unable to grasp what it possibly could’ve meant, as Toji carefully lowered you onto the ground – never so much as toying with the idea of fucking you into anything other than the cold, raw earth. It wasn’t until his clawed hand fell to the hard, pulsing cock standing stiffly between his legs that you were able to fully process what he’d said, what he was threatening to do to you. Your thoughts went blank, your years of veterinary school and countless hours of animal-handling training and common sense all dissolving into total nonexistence in an instant. It didn’t matter that he was taller than you, stronger than you – you were already throwing your full weight against him, scratching at his chest with your blunt nails, doing everything in your so incredibly limited power just to get away from him. Your latest wave of resistance wasn’t enough to overwhelm him, but it earned a frustrated rumble at the base of his throat, a downward quirk to his cocky smile. Your nails caught one of the puncture marks on his cheek and, reflexively, he straightened his back, brought his hand to his face, left just enough space between your body and his for you to roll onto your chest and scramble desperately towards freedom. You’d barely gotten your knees underneath you when his hand lashed out, catching you by the collar and forcing your cheek into the soil. His chest pressed into your back, his legs caging yours in on either side, and worst of all, his cock throbbed against your ass – somehow, impossibly, harder than it’d been a few seconds ago. You might’ve jotted it down as an impressive display of canine resilience, if you hadn’t felt so desolated.

“Shoulda figured you wouldn’t make this easy on yourself.” His voice was rougher than it had been, but no less self-satisfied. That made sense. Wolves were endurance predators. He would’ve come into this expecting there to be a struggle. “I thought you’d be more of a mate than a bitch, but—” He paused, his mouth settling against the nape of your neck. “—either’s fine by me.”

You clenched your eyes shut. “Please, Toji, don’t do—”

But, it was already too late. He rutted your ass once, then twice, before his tip caught on the entrance to your abused pussy and he was inside of you, fully sheathed without a trace of resistance.

Toji was big, even for a hybrid. He was a hunter, tried and true, all muscle and agility and pure, unfaltering strength. Even with his generous (albeit, unwelcomed) prep, it was all you could do to convince yourself that his cock wouldn’t tear you apart. He was thick enough to press against every soft and sensitive spot inside of you, long enough to leave a tight knot of pressure sitting in the pit of your stomach, and when he started to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, the force alone was enough to scatter little black spots in the corner of your vision and leave you hazy, light-headed. The way he was fucking into you didn’t help anything, either. Keening whines slipped out of some deep, feral pocket of his chest as he took advantage of your vulnerable cunt, alternating between grinding into you with a desperate sort of clinginess and trying to bully his way that much deeper with bruising, brutal thrusts. One arm wrapped around your midriff, dragging you even close to him, while a groping hand found the delicate buttons of your top and tore, ridding you of what was left of your protection against him. He kneaded half-consciously at your chest as he fucked into you; his own pleasure suddenly his only priority.

His selfishness should’ve been a welcome change, but you were too far gone, your body too eager to find a silver lining to his rough affection. Your hands clawed mindlessly at the ground as he pumped into you, the heat of his body against yours clouding your senses and making the feeling of cock stretching you open, his dull head pounding against your cervix all the more unbearable. You doubted he’d be able to talk, even if he’d had anything left to say, but he was still vocal enough. Raspy groans and harsh grunts rung distantly in your ears, his calloused hands groping mercilessly at your chest, your stomach, your waist. Finally, his thumb found its way to your neglected clit, and with less than a full second of stimulation, you were buckling into yourself, clamping down around his cock with a fractured whimper. As humiliated as you were, Toji wasn’t far behind. With something between a moan and a howl, he was cumming inside of you – predictably making no attempt to pull out. Something hot and vile flooded into you, but it was hard to focus on that when you could feel something hard and bloated and wrong press into your entrance. Toji’s breath hitched as he forced his knot into your tight cunt, and whatever hope you had for coming out of this unscathed curled up and died inside of you.

You could feel him slacken on top of you. You almost thought he would collapse like that, leave you locked to him and trapped under his weight, but instead, he nuzzled against the crook of your neck, his fangs ghosting over your throat before sinking into the soft flesh just underneath your jugular. He stayed like that, his knot splitting open your pussy and his teeth buried in your neck, until you lost any hope of him ever pulling away.

Exhausted, you shut your eyes, sinking into yourself. You’d been right, in a way. Toji wasn’t a bad dog.

He was just a terrible terrible man.

[sh1-n0bu]

WRITERS AND FUTURE WRITERS, PLEASE LISTEN UP

i saw a few tiktok videos that was very concerning to me and i decided to share some of the knowledge i got because as a community of people who freely write things about characters, we need to protect our work. i have just decided to edit this post and to put the whole videos here since a some reblogs were of how i was spreading misinformation.

GOOGLE DOCS IS NOT SAFE (full credit to woppydoesthings on tiktok for information)

thank you to @lighteez for suggesting “reedsy” as an alternative option

thank you to @braingoaaaaaah for suggesting “click up” as an alternative option

thank you to @koungacris for suggesting “LibreOffice” as an alternative option

thank you to @stellarnathy for suggesting “notion” as an alternative option

THEY GOT THE AO3 WRITERS AS WELL (full credit to tiktok user sakuradarling) (sadly i can only add one video in per post and the tiktok user had turned off saving videos but i have decided to link the original video https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSFbq1PRA/)

apparently some thieves i am NOT calling them people because who with moral compass would do this shit? are copying, pasting and printing out popular fanfictions on AO3, binding them, turning them into actual books and selling them on places like Etsy WITHOUT crediting the original authors. which is why we can’t find some certain popular fics or authors on AO3

TUMBLR IS SELLING OUR WORK/PROMPTS TO THIRD PARTY WITHOUT CONSENT

i think i came across a post or two about it. i think my mutual @livelaughlovesubs has reblogged a post about it. check it out and turn on a switch on your blog settings that prevent this. stay safe and protect your works writers

spread the word everyone, because… genuinely what the fuck?

[tibby-art]

hitman au save me .. its been seven years ..

haven’t been able to draw/write much of this au lately but i want to write a few little scene snippets i have stored my brain :’D ill include them under cut

=+=

“This better be something good,” Scar muttered to Cub as they stepped out of the elevator. The hitman, while bound to his contract, considered ‘boring’ missions to be a waste of his time.

“I hope so,” Cub hummed. “Hope so.”

The ConVex swung open the doors to the NHO conference room, not bothering to check if their bosses were actually ready for their meeting.

“Holy mother of—! Knock next time, will you?” A man setting files down on the conference table jumped visibly as the doors slammed open.

“The Vex require a dramatic entrance, Beef,” Scar said casually. Cub snickered.

“Sure, whatever.” Beef furrowed his brow, used to this behavior. He didn’t have time for this. “Okay. Doc was supposed to do this briefing, but he’s busy with his machines I guess, because of course he is, so.” He huffed, composing himself. “Your new top-secret project. This one’s a doozy. Have a look.”

Beef slid the folder across the table. The hitmen flipped it open, absorbing its contents with hungry eyes.

What caught their eyes immediately were the photos. The person of interest looked nothing like a powerful crime boss or a dangerous anomaly. A young adult with glasses, dark eyes and short, sandy brown hair stared back at them.

“Who’s this?” Scar raised an eyebrow. Is the NHO asking them to assassinate some normal-looking university student?

“That is Grian,” Beef explained, both hands planted firmly on the table. “Grian has been with us at the NHO for months.”

“I’ve never seen him before,” Scar remarked.

“Grian’s case is top-secret. He’s been staying in high-security, private quarters… as well as our research laboratories.”

“I thought you guys seemed super suspicious lately! I knew they were hiding something from us, Cub,” Scar nudged his partner with a grin. Cub did not budge as his sharp eyes combed through the documents. He hadn’t heard a single word spoken to him.

“Cub? What’s the deal?” Scar asked. He preferred to let Cub read their mission files and summarize it for him, anyways. Dyslexia and top-secret government files were not a great mix. Oh, what would he do without Cub?

“Watchers?” Cub finally spoke, looking up at Beef with a quizzical frown. The other man nodded slowly. “You’re kidding.”

“After months of testing and analysis, we can confirm that this individual is the only currently documented case of a mortal possessing Watcher abilities,” Beef nodded slowly.

Scar had heard whispers of the Watchers only a handful of times. As a vex, he knew plenty about the realm of magic, the divine, the fae, you name it! But Watchers were said to be ancient entities, perhaps as old as time itself. So old that they were widely considered to be a myth.

“So this is not a hit,” Scar said after a moment.

“This is not a hit, Scar, good lord, do not kill this person,” Beef put both hands on his forehead and let them slowly drag down his face.

“Mortal, you say?” Cub raised an eyebrow.

“Yep,” Beef said. “She was a completely normal citizen until he got these abilities in some freak accident. Lucky for everyone involved, the NHO was able to take control of the situation before anything… dangerous happened.”

“So,” Scar narrowed his eyes slightly, “If this isn’t a hit, then what do you want from us?”

Beef sighed. “After months of testing to determine Grian’s situation, the NHO has decided that he is too important to return to life as a normal citizen at this time. Instead, we’d like to utilize his abilities in our goals to maintain order in Hermit City, and we need someone to train her how to be a special agent in the field.”

“You want the ConVex to train a Watcher how to be a hitman,” Cub said with a slight smirk at just how insane that sounded.

“Yep.”

“Huh.” Scar put both hands on his hips. “Well, that’s not what I was expecting.”

“I suppose we could give it a shot,” Cub said. Although the ConVex were bound by a fae contract to work for the NHO, the vex took every opportunity to feign control over their situation. There was no choice here. Beef had given them an order.

“Sure, sure! We are very good at our jobs, after all,” Scar grinned. Whatever happened, good or bad, would at least be entertaining, surely.

“You’ll come back here to meet her tomorrow morning,” Beef instructed. “Hand me that file back and be here by 9, will you?”

“Sure thing,” Cub replied coolly, sliding the file back to the man. Scar couldn’t help but grin wider when he noticed Cub’s hand casually in his pants pocket, some folded white paper barely visible in his grip.

“Don’t be late. I’m serious this time,” Beef called out as the hitmen turned and exited the conference room.

=+=

The conference room was tense that morning. Towards the end of the table sat the NHO - Beef, Doc, Etho, and Bdubs. On one side sat Cub and Scar. Across from them, Grian sat alone.

“So, how about introductions?” Doc clapped his hands together. “Er… Cub and Scar, this is Grian. Grian, this is Cub and Scar. You guys already know the deal. Grian is going to come with you on missions from now on.”

The ConVex hadn’t taken their eyes off of Grian since they entered the room, unable to resist their curiosity. They had both read the files, but still found it hard to believe the person before them was a Watcher. Grian sat rigid in his chair, fiddling with his hands, looking tense and exhausted. She eyed the vex curiously as well.

“Well hello there,” Scar greeted. “I’m Scar, and this is Cub.”

“Hey, hey,” Cub said quietly.

“Hello,” The corner of Grian’s mouth twitched in a possible attempt at a smile.

The three continued to stare at each other until Bdubs cleared his throat.

“Wonderful introduction. Now that we’ve broken the ice, let’s talk about your next mission.” The man picked up a small remote, and the large screen on the wall behind them illuminated.

“Before we send our agents out into the field, we meet like this to discuss the details and ensure that the mission is clearly understood,” Doc explained to Grian, throwing a disapproving glare in the ConVex’s direction.

A lengthy file on some high-profile criminal appeared on the screen, as Bdubs proceeded to read off the information. Scar slumped back in his chair. These mission briefings were the worst. It was time to zone out and have Cub tell him the details later with all the fluff cut out.

At about ten minutes in, Scar yawned absentmindedly.

“Oh, are we boring you, sir?” Doc interrupted Bdubs to shoot a piercing stare at Scar.

“Oh, not at all!” Scar said cheerfully, but slumping in his chair slightly lower.

“As I was saying,” Bdubs continued loudly.

Scar glanced over at Grian. Her eyes quickly darted back to the presentation when they made eye contact. Scar looked over at Cub and found he had still not taken his eyes off of Grian. Hopefully Cub was at least somewhat paying attention, because he sure wasn’t.

Grian continued to fidget with his hands. Scar felt a pang of pity for him. The vex were used to this sort of environment, but according to the NHO, Grian had a completely normal life up until a few months ago. Now suddenly, he gains these terrifying powers and spends months in a top-secret lab having tests run on her all day. Who wouldn’t be overwhelmed?

Scar yawned again, this time more intentionally. He earned another death glare from Doc, but Bdubs droned on. He glanced over and saw Grian rubbing a hand on his cheek to help hide a grin.

The art of annoying your boss was a delicate one. Timing is everything. Let enough time pass until they’ve forgotten, or they think you’ve stopped, to continue the game. Scar lets about ten minutes pass before his next yawn, bigger this time.

“Quit it,” Beef hissed. Even Etho glanced over. Doc kept his eyes on the screen, but his jaw was clenched. Grian let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Five minutes later, Cub clears his throat rather loudly. Bdubs stutters over his words for a second, but because Cub is Cub, none of the NHO seems to be able to tell if that was a deliberate cough or not, and they decide to ignore it. Cub shows no emotion.

After an hour that felt like an eternity of Bdubs explaining every possible detail about the case, it seemed to be almost concluded. That was, until a rather loud yawn was heard throughout the conference room.

“WILL YOU LET ME FINISH, FOR GOODNESS SAKE?!” Bdubs finally erupted, whipping around in his chair to face Cub and Scar.

The hitmen stared back blankly. They glanced over across the table, and Bdubs followed their gaze, where Grian sat with both arms over her head in a large stretch.

“Sorry,” Grian said simply when all eyes were on him, lowering his arms. “Just had to stretch a bit.” He stared back at Bdubs innocently.

The NHO stood there, confused. Bdubs was at a loss for words, unable to get a read on the new recruit. He sighed and turned back to the screen. “Well, regardless, I think we’ve about summed things up,” he grumbled.

Scar made eye contact with Grian once again. The two cracked a smile at one another for a second, too quick for the NHO to notice.

Scar had a feeling that him, Cub and Grian were going to get along just fine.

=+=

[chris-prank]

Villain sidekick yandere x GN hero reader

A good influence? Part 1

Warning: Manipulation, kidnapping, obsessive and creepy behavior

(This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only, I do not support yandere behaviors in real life)

🧪 You were a well known hero, going around saving the city from dangerous threats.

🧪 One of your enemies was a supervillain known as “Fatalité” who worked with the scientist “Dr. Seraph”. 

🧪 Even if you got to put a stop to their evil plans time and time again, they always seemed to get back on their feet and challenge you once more. 

🧪 Between the two, Dr. Seraph did seem a bit less evil. Once he even got slapped by Fatalité, because he hesitated to attack you while you were saving a child. So you always had a bit more of empathy for him, not hesitating to be less harsh during fights. 

🧪 He was not a good person by any means, but you always find it a bit ironic how he was pushed around by his boss or the other henchmans. He would get so easily startled and lose his composure.  

🧪 One day, you accidently fell into one of his traps, while on a mission with your teammates. 

🧪 You woke up in his lab, tied up to a metal board. Before he had noticed you were awake, the scientist was working on a giant computer, while excitedly muttering to himself.

🧪 You looked to your side to see a little table covered with torture devices. That’s when the short man noticed your conscious state. 

🧪 “Fatalié will be so proud of me! You’re done, hero.” He tried to give a confident smile, but you could still feel his nervousness seeping through it. 

🧪 Despite the deadly situation you were in, you couldn’t help but make joke to turn this situation into ridicule.

🧪 “Really ? Does that mean I won’t get to see your cute face anymore?” You made a fake pout. 

🧪 Wait…Was it just you or did he blushed? His sudden stuttering and his eyes darting away from yours, was a clear indicator that your comment had affected him. Just not in the way you had expected.

🧪 You needed to take advantage of this, since there was no way you could escape alone in this room filled with deadly weapons. You had to buy enough time for your colleague to come and find you. 

🧪 You decided to continue with the praise. Saying how smart he was and that his boss couldn’t do his evil deed without him. 

🧪 “R-Really? No one ever recognizes my genius and dedication!” 

🧪 This guy was the definition of being starved for attention, since he totally didn’t catch on that you were manipulating him. His face was getting more and more flustered as he forgot what his initials intentions were. You had to admit, it was kinda cute. 

🧪 “You’re actually… quite likable compared to the nuisances you call teammates. At least now I know that one hero appreciate the complexity of my inventions.”

🧪 Seeing that your tactic was working wonders, you added how unfair it was for him to be treated like trash by Fatalité. The scientist stopped at your words, which made you dread that you had gone too far. 

🧪 He was about to respond when an explosion shook the room. You smile to yourself, knowing who was responsible for that detonation. Dr. Seraph tried frantically to find your friends on the surveillance camera. He called for reinforcements in a panic, before taking a weapon and leaving the room.

🧪 You just had to wait 5 minutes for one of your friends to find you and get the restraint off. You decided to leave a message on a notepad saying “Been fun, see you next time Doc.” with a little winky face. 

🧪 If only you knew the effect that it had on him when he found it later, tired and bruised up. 

🧪 That night, Dr. Seraph, or should I say Vincent, found himself thinking of you while he was laying on his bed. He couldn’t stop his mind spiraling as he held the little note close to his lips. It’s like the interaction you had today had completely changed his opinions of you. 

🧪 This scientist had been without attention for so long, that the tiniest bit of compliments and “special treatment” from you was enough to make his heart skip a beat.  

🧪 It went all downhill from there. It’s like he was finally noticing little things about you that he never did before.

🧪 How he loves it when you defend him from the wrath of his boss and try to convince him to go to the good side. You’re so considerate! 

🧪 Please treat him like he did nothing wrong and he is just being forced by Fatalité (which he isn’t totally). He just wants to hear your gentle words of praise again. 

🧪 He may be more remorseful of his criminal activities then others villains, but he is totally not above manipulation.

🧪 He tries to appear more injured at times so you would take him in your arms, like you do with civilians, to take him away from collapsing infrastructure. 

🧪 “P-please help me…Fatalité will punish me when he sees that I failed him again…” He gives you the biggest puppy eyes, hoping it would be enough to spark your heroic instincts. 

🧪 All to say that he is not really subtle with his new found love for you. The goons easily noticed his change of behavior around you. 

🧪 So they start teasing him about it, making him stutter, trying to deny it. They don’t truly believe he does like you, they just like messing with him. 

🧪 He tries to convince his boss to attack parts of the city where you do your patrol more often, in the hope of seeing you intervene. 

🧪 To say that he is disappointed every time another superhero tries to stop him instead of you would be an understatement. Like why are they ruining his little date ?! Don’t they have cats to save from trees or something?

🧪 He doesn't think of himself as a masochist, but he doesn’t totally dislike when you give him a few slaps or punches.

🧪 He especially likes it when you apologize when you feel like you didn’t hold back enough of your super strength. 

🧪 Can’t you just take him in your arms and kiss it better already?

🧪 Soon he starts thinking of you outside of your hero persona. Meeting you for fights is not enough for him anymore. 

🧪 What are you like when you take off your suit? What do you do when you have free time? 

🧪 He wanted more. He needed more of you.

After months of rewriting and perfecting this story in my draft I’m finally posting it. Anxiety be damned! (I am totally not stressing right now about it) But in all seriousness this is the first real post I make on this account, I hope you guys will like it!

Here is a little doodle of my boy Vincent (it’s a little bit old since I wrote this story in like December)

[gallusrostromegalus]

I am constantly procrastinating working on my original fic by writing fanfic. Any advice for how to refocus and finish my novel?

Well. The novel probably needs a nap.

Procrastinating is a symptom that something is preventing you from doing the thing you "should" be doing. Most of the time it's an unrelated, but actually higher priority task like resting after an illness (society is fucking lying about anything else being more important) or filing your taxes (actually this one is pretty important).

...but if you're procrastinating on one creative project with another creative project, you're not procrastinating: something about the novel is off right now, the fanfic is more appealing to you.

Consider the following:

You may be writing fic because it brings you more joy than the novel. If you really want to get back to the novel, figure out what would make working on it more enjoyable. Engagement from a beta-editor? Skipping this really boring scene and coming back to it later? Adding more smut?

You may also be writing fic because it's got a lower spoon coat than the novel and you need to conserve your spoons right now. Any extra stress in your life? Moving? Toothache? Recovering from Covid? Annoying roommate? Sick family member? It's an election year? ANY of those could soak up extra spoons and make your novel too expensive for your spoons budget. Let it take a nap, and come back when you're feeling better.

You may be sharpening your artistic skills on a lower-stakes project before going back to the novel. This is pretty normal- even Michaelangelo took breaks to work on other pieces while sculpting The David, both for a change of pace and so he could try something out without fucking up the big block.

Fortunately, you're writing, so you can always try writing the challenging scene a dozen times in different docs or save the parts that were good but don't not in a spare parts bucket doc.

Or keep working on that fic, it's helping you learn on a subconscious level.

You don't love the novel right now. This is alright. This is usually temporary, and the solution is the same- put it aside and work on something else.

Maybe you are just bored of the novel. That's fine and normal, you just save all the documents to your hard drive and come back later. When the fic inevitably gets boring too, you'll come back to the novel and either go "oh hey this kicks ass!" And return to it with renewed enthusiasm.

...Or you'll come back to it and go "oh. This is actually a piece of shit" And that's okay too, because there's nothing more useless than polishing a turd, but that turd is still valuable as compost. You learned things writing it, and you can still rifle through the novel for good lines or scenes or turns of phrase and put those in your spare parts doc to ferment into The Good Shit in the back of your mind.

HOWEVER:

If you are experiencing a different phenomenon wherein you are actively distressed while writing the fic- either out of misplaced guilt, or the fic isn't actually fun you just feel compelled to do something, or absolutely every creative endeavor is stressing you out, you may be experiencing a serious mental or physical health issue and you should see your GP or a specialist ASAP. Pain is an indicator that something is wrong. Do not ignore your body's warning light.

That sounds really dramatic and hyperbolic but realizing I was not enjoying ANY creative work was the symptom that finally got me to sit down and go "huh. All these random pains, irregular sleep cycle, frequent migraines and weird bouts of vertigo aren't normal either, I should get this looked at." And it turned out I had dangerously low blood oxygen at night from undiagnosed sleep apnea. I have a CPAP machine now and it's AMAZING.

I really hope this is regular artistic shuffle and not a serious health concern, but if you're experiencing creative stress AND a bunch of other shit, it may be serious.

[cowgirlcherrie]

florist! abby Headcanons ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

a/n: something quick n sweet you knowwwww got this random thought and had to write it I couldn’t resist I couldn’t. I also saw that no one done florist! abby(?) so I wanted to be the first to hop on! plus I missed writing for Abs — my baby, so enjoy ♡

warnings: 18+, MDNI, some fluff, gets smuttier halfway in, strap, blowjob (strap), eating you out, mentions of obsessive behaviors, polaroid nudes-ish, fingering, edging, public-sex-ishh, soft dom! Abby, tatted! Abby. Hinted at smoker Abby if you squint, petnames, fingers in mouth, masturbation, use of the word mommy, use of the word pussy, fem reader.

divider creds here

ೀ florist! Abby wears a basic white cropped t-shirt and black dickies under her beige apron. Her apron has a rainbow flag pin, with black pliers in one pocket. Doc Martins on her feet, tied miserably into a bow, it’s a miracle she doesn’t trip around the flower shop. She has a carabiner on her belt loop that jingles every time she walks. 

– apart from smelling like the flowers (obvi bc of where she works) smells like heavy pine and fresh soap, like forget the additives – just clean if ykyk

ೀ florist! Abby gets little patchwork tattoos in random places: a dainty lavender tattoo on her wrist, a little crescent moon behind her ear, paw prints on her bicep for her late dog Alice, a ‘gentle artist’ in bolded times new roman font – but dainty on her forearm. Her knuckles are tatted spelling out “FUCK YOU”.

ೀ florist! Abby that has a ‘Save the Bees!’ sticker on the back of her phone case. Super Bee activist.

ೀ florist! Abby who spends all day in the floral shop, playing music from her playlist on the shop’s aux, slightly swaying to the music as she works on a bouquet. She works with such prestige, god her hands work so quickly at building arrangements but the outcome is so beautiful and that’s why she has many customers. She definitely uses any leftover flowers as bookmarks for her books.

ೀ florist! Abby who’s aux will go from Lauryn Hill to Boy Genius to Mac Miller — she gets compliments on her music taste by customers all the time.

ೀ florist! Abby stops working on a bouquet when you walk into the store because of how confused you look. Wanting to save a damsel in distress. Abby moves from her place at the counter walking over to where you stood looking at the different types of flowers, creeping behind you. You smell divine to her, driving her head crazy knowing that your scent alone will be stuck in her head all day. The floral shop is a slow yet steady business, so Abby definitely doesn’t forget a face or a smell. The form-fitting dress you wore that day, the way your hands bunched at the fabric in confusion had her head spinning!

“Beautiful aren’t they?” Abby whispers from behind you,

Actually scares the living shit out of you when you see her standing behind you, but the way the sun was hitting her face from the big window panels made you less nervous. Rather in awe at the beauty in front of you. Her sunkissed skin, and silky blonde mane, were raveled in a delicate braid with wispies around her face. The raspiness from her voice – which honestly sounded like a smoker's voice now that you thought about it. 

ೀ florist! Abby who makes small talk with you while making your boquette for you (taking her slow sweet time), asking you where you’re from and what you’re doing in town? Absolutely praying that the flowers aren’t for some significant other of yours, Abby letting out an exhale when you say that they’re for your mom who you are visiting for dinner. When you mention you are unsure of what flowers to get don’t worry Abby will help you!

“So pretty girl, are you more minimalistic, talking Lilies, Gardenia’s, Jasmine – which is over there...or colorful? Which I think your beautiful self enjoys a nice Orchid, Camellia, or Begonia?”

Definitely shocks you with how well she knows her stuff

ೀ florist! Abby zones out when you are speaking and stares at your lips for far too long, looking at the way your pink gloss shines wondering how your pretty lips would look taking her strap. Percase covered in spit, from your saliva that has built up from blowing her off. Abby wanted to do nothing more than take the pretty little fabric ribbon from your hair and tie it around your hands as she went down on you while you beg her to touch you in all the right places – it was all a dream to her. Wet dreaming with you right in front of her.

Undeniably horny and touch deprived…she spends so much time in the floral shop she doesn’t have time for dating apps and finds shit like Tinder CORNY LOL. 

Meanwhile, you are trying your hardest not to stare at the way her arms are flexing or how her fingers are paying delicate attention to your bouquet, mentally laughing at the “FUCK YOU” on her knuckles, it contrasted her soft nature so much.

ೀ florist! Abby who slips in a little note into your tote back when you’re not looking, with her number on it, hoping that you would find it and call her soon, Which you do find when you are scrambling for your keys on your way back to the car. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to give the overly, steaming attractive florist a call. 

ೀ florist! Abby when the two of you start dating, she would teach you how to make a bouquet, standing closely behind you – her body right up against your back as you feel her breath tickling your ear as she whispers to you what to do

“Atta girl, look at that my sweet girl – woah! watch your hand there’s a thorn baby.”

Will definitely put her hands over yours as she works with the knife to make sure there isn’t any thorns so you don’t prick yourself. 

ೀ florist! Abby fucking you in the flower shop, when the shop is closed. Having her head in between your thighs, as her jaw slacks – the sound of your juices sloshing against her mouth as she sends hums into your pussy making you let out low mewls. Bringing a hand up to cover your mouth but she slaps it away so that she can see you

“Don’t hide from me baby, I wanna see you…look at how beautiful you look whining for me doll”

ೀ florist! Abby who kept your lace underwear in her pocket after she fucked you in the floral shop keeping it for safe-keeping (pft…we all know what she is doing with that)

ೀ florist! Abby who shows you her small pocket-sized notebook full of different flowers and arrangement ideas she had. Even the sketches of a flower bouquet that she made inspired by you and all your favorite flowers.

ೀ florist! Abby definitely tucks flowers behind your ears, specifically a white or light-pink Carnation. Especially loves putting one behind your ear as she fucks you with her strap, missionary style so she can see your face – just loves your face honestly. Bending down to kiss your lips, her cheeks dusted red with the pressure she applies.

Tucking her head into your neck swiftly smelling the carnation that she put behind your ear driving her even further insane as she drills into you — makes her go faster.

ೀ When she starts teaching you more about flowers, Definitely uses sexual enforcement to get you to remember it. Will have you sat on her counter as she stands in between your legs – locking you in as she lunges two fingers into you, edging you and not letting you cum until you say the right name of the flower that she taught you. But you could hardly focus staring at her inked knuckles as they pump in and out of you which only makes you reach your climax even further. 

“You wanna come don’t you my sweet girl? I know you want to…just say the name– awh don’t whine at me…I know you know it dollface, I don’t buy that you don’t.”

Sometimes she’ll give you a hint if the flower starts with one of the letters on her knuckles she will stick the corresponding finger into you, working at getting you just about there as her finger curls into you. Your vision is blurry as you can hardly tell what the letter is, moaning out as you try to focus on the order of the letters on her knuckles to catch the hint.

“C’mon baby I’m giving you a hint…pay attention sweetheart– focus!”

ೀ florist! Abby when you get it wrong and she finally lets you come — is fake-mad at you, shoving the lettered finger down your throat as you gag on her fingers covered in your juices.

“Baby the hinted letter was C, and the other finger was U, flower: Curcuma. You’ll get it right next time right sweetheart? You won’t let mommy down hmm?”

ೀ florist! Abby is definitely a soft dom just saying… soft as hell, loves when you hold her – kiss her, and skin-to-skin contact is important as hell she just wants to feel you and loves when you baby her. 

ೀ Definitely keeps a Polaroid of you holding flowers in pink floral lingerie in her beige apron and another one of you in her wallet, that way she has you on her at all times (honestly probably touched herself to blow off some steam after a hard shift while looking at it)

ೀ Depending on how far the relationship goes, especially if y’all start talking marriage will get your favorite flower tatted and not tell you until you see a dainty tattoo of your favorite flower on her collarbone slightly above her heart as she is filling you up, you questioning her in between moans about it.

“Mmhm…fuck is that new? Shit..abbyplease – wait is that my favorite flower?” You ask, as she grinds into you – your finger dragging against the tattoo

“Yes baby, you’re all mine. Mine…mine…mine” As she pounds harder into to you each time she says mine. Obsessive, possessive + territorial, let’s talk about it 

ೀ florist! Abby is overall just a sweetheart who loves you so much and just wants you to be her pretty flower – her muse, you definitely inspire most of her bouquets and she is so happy you ran into her shop looking for flowers that day.

[dreamsofbroflovski]

Leopold "Butters" Stotch x Reader - sweet escape

Also available on ao3!

Summary: When you and your darling boyfriend break up, Eric Cartman's inner cupid decides to make sure you two get back together... By fucking your way right out of that argument.

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (EVERYONE INVOLVED IS ABOVE THE AGE OF CONSENT), Explicit Language, Cisgender female Reader, Aphrodisiacs, Nipple Play, Nipple Orgasm, Penis In Vagina Sex, Bathroom Sex, Creampie

A/N: I've had this in my Docs for almost 2 months now, and never got to properly finish it. Then yesterday I went berserk and stayed until 4am writing and cleaning up the draft so I could have it up by today.

We have an utter drought of Butters x Reader smut in this fandom, so I hope I did our sweet guy justice.

Obligatory "English is not my first language, if anything sounds like total nonsense it probably is so please let me know" This is also my first fic after whole years without writing anything creative and my first smut work in general and IDK how to feel about it

It was your average Monday morning in Park County. People from all walks of life had frowns on their faces as they made their way to school or work, missing the protection of their warm blankets and the peacefulness of a deep sleep. In your high school, most of the students hung about in the hallways as they waited for classes to start, and the cliques standing around together provided some warmth for its members, both emotionally and physically.

At the end of one of the corridors, in one of the staircases, hung out a particular group of young men, lazing around and chatting about their weekend like everyone else. Some of them stood, leaning on the wall or the handrail, while others sat on the steps, basically creating a barricade against anyone who wanted to go up or down the stairs - not that many people tried, anyway; over the course of their high school days all the way to the current senior year, the South Park boys had kind of made that particular part of the stairs their hangout spot, and the other students really just preferred to take any necessary detours than have to deal with the certified biggest assholes in the whole school.

As they began to engage in yet another heated debate over some useless topic, almost none of them saw a certain blonde man arrive. This was not abnormal - most people were never paying attention to Butters, unless they needed him for a favor. What was abnormal, however, was the expression he carried. Butters was a normally friendly and peaceful person, always with a smile on his face even in the most inhospitable of days; to see him like he was now, walking with heavy steps like a soldier, his face down and gaze fixed on his own feet, it didn’t take much from anyone to see that he was not doing well. 

“Hey there, fellas.” He spoke in an unusually low voice, not looking up for even a second to acknowledge his peers. Almost all the other boys responded with a quiet Hey or a quick movement of the head, but he didn’t acknowledge either of those greetings, too engulfed in his own feelings.

“Oh, hey, Butters, there you are.” Cartman said, looking briefly at his direction but almost seeing past him, clearly not realizing what was amiss - Eric couldn’t care about someone else’s feelings to save his life. “Thank God you’re here, I have to talk to you about something later and it’s really important, if you didn’t show up it would’ve really fucked me over. You’re really gonna have to make up to me later for that. We’ll go over what you can do during lunch, so tell your bitch to - hey, where’s your bitch, anyway?”

“I DON’T KNOW, I DON’T CARE, AND IF ANY OF YOU DO THEN YOU CAN GO FUCK YOURSELVES!” was Butters’ immediate answer, in such a thundering angry tone that it made the whole group flinch in fear. This was the first moment he actually looked at his so-called friends that Monday, and his face was one of pure fury. “And if YOU-” he turned in his heels to face Cartman, pointing a finger at his face, “-think I’m going to be a part of whatever fucking evil deeds you have planned right now, then you better sit that fat ass of yours down, because I ain’t helping you anymore, got it?” He turned again to glare at the rest of the guys, who all had wide eyes. “Or any of you bitches either! I’m done with you jerks! DONE!”

“Dude, dude, calm down, it’s okay-” Kyle was the one to first try and appease the situation, seeing as everyone else was too afraid to make a movement. He tried to reach an arm out to Butters, but it was promptly slapped out of his reach by the latter.

“IT’S NOT FUCKING OKAY! Everyone hates you, y’all fucking hate each other, and then you sit around here and pretend to be best friends! Oh, but y’all won’t say anything because if you do y’all gon’ have to hang around with fucking Kip Drordy ‘till graduation! And I’ll tell you what else-”

He eventually became engulfed by his own rage, breathing rapidly as he looked around for anything else he could say his truth about.

“Easy there, buddy. Look, I haven’t had breakfast yet, how about you and I go pick up a snack in one of the vending machines?” Kenny tapped on Butters’ shoulder, gesturing in the direction of the canteen.

“I don’t want no goddamn snack!” Butters yelled right in Kenny’s ear, but the latter didn’t even acknowledge the rudeness, being used to worse back at his house.

“Yes, you do. Now let’s go.”

The whole staircase group watched in silence as Kenny dragged Butters far away, and then all faces turned to Cartman.

“Great job there, fatass.” Kyle snarled, rolling his eyes.

“Fuck you, Kyle! What the hell did I do now?” Cartman raised his voice, pointing a finger in Kyle’s face, then signaling with his other hand towards the corridor through which Butters had just left. “He’s the one that started acting like a chick on her period! That’s got nothing to do with me!”

“You provoked him, dude! You know he’s sensitive about that shit these days!”

“Butters is always sensitive, dude! What is his problem NOW?”

The other boys looked at each other, unsure if Cartman’s behavior was legitimate. “You really don’t know what you did?” Kyle asked, almost a surprised tone in his voice, his eyebrows arched.

“No! If I’m going to be blamed for shit, at least tell me what it is!” Eric huffed, tired of the back-and-forth.

Kyle took a deep breath. “Butters and (Y/N) broke up this weekend.”

The news had Cartman legitimately shocked. “Really? Why didn’t he tell me?”

“But he did. He told all of us.” Stan picked up his phone and turned the screen towards Cartman, with the messages app open, and started scrolling up quickly with his free hand, which made it impossible for the other to be even able to read anything. “It’s all over the group chat, dude.”

“Oh, right. I didn’t read that shit, I was rushing the battle pass for the new Fortnite season.” Cartman waved his hand in dismissal and Stan put his phone back in his pocket.

“Then you can’t complain about not being informed of stuff as soon as it happens.”

“Alright, alright, my bad. But man, hope they get back together.”

Eric wasn’t really feeling bad about causing Butters to snap or worried about your romance out of care for his friend. More so, like everything else in his life, the fatass wanted you to sort your issues because that would bring him personal benefit. He needed your lover for something in the coming days, a very important plan he had been cooking, and that breakup could very well ruin it all.

When you and Butters first got together, Cartman thought this was the death of his most useful pawn, maybe he’d even have to spy on your relationship to make sure you wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience. To his surprise, the opposite turned out to be true - the already affable young man became even more docile, if that was even possible. He was also willing to do damn near anything if it meant your happiness, so the only thing Cartman ever had to do to get his help was make up some bullshit story about how that scheme was actually going to be great for your relationship and how you’d be so glad if Butters just assisted him with this one thing (despite said thing having nothing to do with you at all, and you normally not being aware of the stuff until it happened). Since the blonde was mad at you, that meant the usual strategies wouldn’t stick.

Whatever it was that was creating this rift between you two, it had to end fast.

“But why the hell did they break up, anyway?” Eric continued, hoping to gather more information that he could use to reverse the situation.

“You’d know if you read the group chat!”, three or four of the guys answered in unison.

“Hell, I don’t read the group chat either and even I know what happened”, said Craig. He wasn’t usually one to engage in his colleagues’ dumb fighting, so, since the most aloof person on Earth had an opinion on the subject, Cartman knew he’d been missing out.

“You don’t read the group chat?!” Tweek yelped, looking at Craig with a panicked expression on his face - even more panicked than the one he had at any given time. “ACK!- You gotta read it, babe! What if one of us gets injured, dies, and you never find out because you didn’t read the group chat? What if EVERYONE dies and our last wishes are all in the group chat? UGH!”

He then seemingly got really scared of this hypothetical situation he himself created, proceeding to hyperventilate and tremble on the spot.

“I don’t read them because you do, babe. Then you tell me everything. Your texts are the only ones I ever need to read.” 

Craig patted Tweek’s hair a few times and kissed him on the forehead after speaking, which seemed to calm down the anxious male, who let out a contented sigh as his lungs seemed to finally allow him to breathe properly again. Everyone else around rolled their eyes at this, and Jimmy, out of the couple’s line of sight, stuck his tongue out and made a gesture pointing down his throat as if going to vomit.

“What do you guys do when the girls are mad at you, though?” Kyle asked, looking across the group, focusing on no one in particular - Kyle was the only one there who never managed to be in a long-term relationship (his surreal bad luck with women was extremely good content for jokes around those parts), and wouldn’t have an answer to that particular question.

“I just fuck mine ‘till she’s stupid”, Clyde answered immediately, with a hint of pride in his voice.

“Jesus, Clyde!” Tolkien gawped at the man next to him. Even if they were used to that type of vulgar speech, hearing it early in the morning on a Monday was a less than ideal setup. “Didn’t your mom teach you some manners or something?”

“As a matter of fact, no. She couldn’t.” Clyde looked sad for a moment. “But it’s real, you guys. Whenever Bebe starts bitching my ear off about some nonsense, I just take her somewhere private and give it to her good. By the time we’re done, she can’t even remember what it was she wanted, so it’s a win.”

“She probably just drops the issue because she knows you’re too stupid to hold any kind of deep conversation with”, stated Craig, earning a chuckle from most of the guys.

“Hey! It’s not like you’re any kind of master communicator either, Mr. Don’t-Read-The-Group-Chat!” Clyde retorted, hitting Craig - and Tweek, by association - right where it hurted.

By then, Cartman had tuned out the voices of all the other guys, the gears in his mind turning furiously. Clyde, however much of an idiot he could be, had unironically given him the solution to his most pressing problem. 

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

Later on, at night, the only lights on in a particular suburban street were those in the kitchen of the Cartman household.

Eric had an old cookbook open in the counter in front of him, alongside an assortment of ingredients and kitchen utensils. The food laid out seemed like your average components for making cupcakes - sugar, eggs, flour, the works -, but, hidden in the middle of it all, camouflaging itself nicely with the vanilla extract in a way that one would really need to pay attention to realize, was a bottle containing an edible aphrodisiac concentrate - the wonders of same-day delivery allowed it to be dropped off at Cartman’s doorstep right that afternoon when he bought it in the morning. 

After being done with all the other ingredients in the bowl, following the instructions in the book to a tee - Cartman could fool around with many things, but food was not one of them -, Eric grabbed the tray with the liners he had set and transferred the mixture to them. After that, he picked up that one particular bottle, turning his attention to two specific tins closest to him in the tray, lined with red cases. The bottle had instructions in the back of it - thorough information about its content, advice about the amount that was to be used and general warnings -, but the cook was having none of that, instead dumping the liquid in the two tins until he felt satisfied. In his mind, the more effect it made, the easier for him.

When that was done, he carefully put the tray into the oven and moved on to other parts of the recipe.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

The next day, Eric Cartman was on a mission. Along with the usual backpack, he carried with him to school a small box that smelled faintly of vanilla. The cupcakes had turned out really dang nice, if he could say so himself, and now it was time to pacify a certain pair of lovebirds.

After going to the usual staircase, he was surprised to find that his target, the only one of those assholes he cared to see today, was not around - but it wasn’t without reason; ever since his outburst yesterday, most of the other guys had decided to leave Butters alone with his anger until the issue was resolved, so he got warned to take his sulking elsewhere because it was bringing everyone down. As soon as he found that out, Eric turned on his heels and continued through the hallways, leaving his other colleagues very confused.

Making his way to Butters’ locker, he found the blonde male unaccompanied, mumbling some nonsense as he picked up everything he needed for the upcoming classes.

“Butters! Hey, buddy.” Cartman approached him with a smile.

“Fuck off, Eric!” Butters slammed the door to his locker, startling everyone who dared to be around him.

“Woah, calm down dude, I just wanted to give you this.” Cartman opened the box in his hands and carefully picked one of the cupcakes that had the red liner, handing it to his infuriated friend. “Might make you feel a little better.”

“Oh- huh- Really? Thanks.” Butters seemed genuinely surprised that someone, no matter who, was being nice to him. He picked up the cupcake, taking a bite out of it right away and getting some of the whipped cream on the side of his mouth. “That’s awfully nice of ya. You’re a good person, ya know, Eric. UNLIKE SOMEONE I KNOW!” He said that last part too loud, facing the corridor, as if he expected you to be around so you could hear all about how much he hated you right now. Unfortunately, you were nowhere to be found - instead, he yelled that stuff right while a group of young freshman girls happened to be passing through, laughing about something. They jumped in fear, looking at him like he was a maniac, and quickened their steps to leave as soon as possible while whispering to each other.

“Yeah, yeah, Butters, I know, I’m amazing” Eric replied, absent-mindedly, setting his sights on the end of the corridor, planning his escape route. “Look, man, I gotta go, see you in class or whatever.” Not even saying a word more than the absolutely necessary, he left Butters’ side as well, this time looking for his next objective.

Luckily, he didn’t take too long to find it as well. Right as he turned the corner, you stood next to another set of lockers, next to Red and Wendy. As they talked eagerly about something, though, you kept to your silence, also dwelling on your fight with your ex-boyfriend. You just weren’t trying to make your anger everyone else’s problem was all, but the other girls knew better than to talk about it near you or ask you questions, lest a wrong word also have you snapping.

Cartman beelined to your group, and as you all saw him coming up, the happy chatter immediately turned into silence. “Hello, ladies”, he spoke, earning a raised eyebrow from you and a questionable stare from the two other girls. “Might I interest you in some cupcakes?”

Before anyone could answer, he opened the box in his hands again, carefully picking a cupcake and handing it to every member in your trio, making sure to give you the one with the red wrap. He had made sure to bring extra cupcakes just in case anyone else in the class might see him with them or ask about it, since just giving sweet treats to you and Butters and no one else would look extremely suspicious. The red liners were to separate the laced cupcakes from the others, so he wouldn’t give them to anyone else unknowingly, and among the colorful liners in the others, no one could see you and your ex getting the same color as nothing but a funny coincidence.

As he closed the box, though, you didn’t make a single movement, still staring at him with the baked good in your hands. “No need to thank me, you know. Aren’t you going to eat it?” He asked, tilting his head to the side slightly.

Your eyes narrowed at him. “You put your dick in this thing, didn’t you?” was the question that came out of your mouth. Red let out an “Ewwwww”.

“NO! Why would you think that?” He gasped, his eyes widening in surprise, like it was an absurd thing to even think about - even though it was definitely something he was capable of doing and everyone knew that. “Who do you think I am, some kind of psychopath?”

“Yes.” Your eyes went from him to the cupcake, turning it around in your hand, analyzing it for any obvious signs of tampering. “Farted on it? Put cum on the whipped cream? Is my mom dead on the filling?”

“No, no and NO! Christ, you do something once and all of a sudden it’s all people ever talk about.” He didn’t actually expect you to start asking so many questions - who questions free food? -, so he hadn’t taken the time to build up an actual excuse. “I just had too much batter and made a few extra to bring to class, can’t a guy just be nice anymore?”

 You waited a little bit more to see if he’d say anything, if he’d give away any evil plans. Unable to figure out anything, you took the leap of faith, getting the cupcake near your mouth and slowly taking a bite of it. The taste that your tongue could pick up - plain vanilla, whipped cream, a little bit of chocolate from the sprinkles on top - was good, but nothing out of the ordinary. Well, you weren’t expecting Cartman to be some kind of superb baker, and there wasn’t anything that struck you as odd, so you continued eating. Seeing this, the girls around you followed suit with eating theirs, since if you couldn’t find anything wrong with it they probably wouldn’t either.

“See? Pretty good, isn’t it? Anyway, I’m gonna go and give the rest away, bye.” He left before you could interrogate him any further.

“What a weirdo”, stated Red. Before you could dwell on the subject more, Wendy warned both of you about the time, and your trio started making your way to class.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

For the next couple of hours, Butters felt like he was about to die.

His whole body felt hot, to the point where he was building up a slight sweat. During this time of the year and up in the mountains, this concept felt absurd, so when he asked the classmates around him to see if anyone else felt the same way, he was met with confused stares and Kenny putting the back of his hand on Butters’ forehead to check his temperature. He was warm alright, but he could tell this wasn’t a fever because this particular warmth felt more intense in the lower part of his belly, irradiating through his body.

The worst part that came with it, though, was the hard-on. It had popped up about an hour into classes, throbbing like crazy, refusing to go down and urging him to take action. He thought about asking for the hall pass to go to the bathroom and masturbate, but decided against it - because that would mean getting up in front of the whole class and standing there where everyone could see him. At this point, after so long, it all started to feel really painful, so he resorted to just curling onto himself on the chair as best as he could, waiting for the bell to ring so he could leave without drawing too much attention.

All the way across the class, you weren’t faring too well, either - just way better at hiding it. Some strands of your hair were glued to your forehead from the sweat, and you fanned yourself with an old crumbled assignment you found in the bottom of your bag. Under your table where no one could see, you pressed your thighs against each other, rubbing them together as silently as possible to create even the tiniest bit of friction to relieve yourself. As much as you did, it wasn’t nearly enough.

During this whole ordeal, you and Butters would look across the room towards each other regularly - even though you were mad at each other, you were the only person he could think about at a time like this, and vice versa. Every once in a while, your gazes would cross, both with completely panicked stares. Oh what you’d give to know what he was thinking at those times. But then, either you or him would realize the other was staring, and you’d immediately turn to the blackboard and pretend you were staring at it the whole time.

The bell ringing to announce lunchtime couldn’t have come soon enough.

“Alright class, off to lunch, we’ll-” The teacher started her usual speech to send all of you off, but before she could finish, Butters got up from his desk and bolted out of the door in extreme hurry, the speed with which he left being so intense that it knocked his whole desk back as he left and all his belongings scattered to the ground. “- Oh, I guess someone’s really into Taco Tuesday.”

As everyone got up to leave for the canteen, you thought about making a quick detour to the bathroom, maybe you could sneak in a little DJing session in one of the stalls, if you kept your quiet, just enough to get yourself through the rest of the day. Before you could make your way there, however, your girl friends made a whole group around your desk, and you had yourself cornered. If you wanted to leave anywhere, they were absolutely going to follow, so you begrudgingly walked to lunch alongside them, still trying to keep your legs as close to each other as possible. You weren’t sure if you’d even survive the rest of the day at this rate.

You hoped that lunch time and the interactions that came with it could make you distracted unlike the quiet classroom, but you were deprived of that as well. No matter how much you tried to pay attention to the conversations the girls were having around you at the table, the heat in your lower abdomen was too strong to ignore, and your thoughts always went straight back to poundtown at any given chance. More than once you had hands waved and fingers snapped near your face because someone asked you a question and you didn’t realize it. 

Also, having scanned around the room with your eyes more than a couple of times like a turret looking for a target, you couldn’t find Butters anywhere in the canteen. You wanted anything from him, even his angry looks at this point were enough to get you going - your mind got busy drawing up all those detailed scenarios where he pinned you to the table, choked you, slapped your ass, pulled your hair, all that while pounding into you violently and calling you filthy names that you never thought you’d hear from his mouth, but that made sense in your anger. 

But he wasn’t there, and you had honestly started to worry. The way he left class earlier had you wondering, who was he hanging out with that made him leave in such a hurry? Was he with some other girl? You usually trusted Butters a lot, he worshipped the ground you walked on and never gave you any reason to doubt his loyalty, but now that you had broken up, God knows what kind of shenanigans he could be up to. You certainly didn’t want to imagine the worst; not only because of the implication of betrayal on his end and the idea that he could already be loving someone else so soon, but also because it would mean he was getting a bunch of action while you couldn’t even masturbate.

“Earth to (Y/N)!” You were once again thrown out of your train of thought by Wendy Testaburger, snapping her fingers close to your ear to draw your attention once more. 

“Wait, what was it again?”, you answered, looking around with your eyes focused on the peers closest to you. All the other girls at the table were staring back, some with anger in their eyes, some with concern.

“Ugh, nevermind. I’ll text you later, since you’re too good to listen to us today.” She made a dismissing motion with her hand. “The bell’s about to ring. Let’s head back.”

As your whole group got up to leave, you looked around the considerably less crowded cafeteria one more time, hoping to catch your ex lingering around, maybe he just came late for lunch? But unfortunately, he was God knows where still. You were expecting to catch some sights of him in class again, but that was unideal - the setting there was one of silence and concentration, two things that you had no intention of keeping up with.

You didn’t have to wait until then to see him, though. As soon as your group opened the cafeteria doors, he was waiting right on the other side of it, just waiting for you to leave for the hall. Coming up from your side, he pulled on the sleeve of your blouse to draw your attention. “Canitalktoyouplease?” was the sentence that left his mouth, almost too quick and slurred for you to catch.

“Huh?”

You turned to face him and the sight was almost absurd. Butters was usually well kept, his parents weren’t going to let him get out of the house looking less than presentable, but right now he was a whole mess. His hair was all shagged up and he was panting like he had just ran a marathon. The hairs closest to his forehead were wet and some droplets of transparent liquid were around it - could be sweat, the same problem you had, or he might’ve thrown some water on his face to cool himself down (which was also a great idea). He also had his jacket tied to his waist, which was weird considering it wasn’t hot this time of the year and he had been wearing it earlier. Did he spend the whole lunch period running track?

“Can- Can I talk to you, please?” He repeated more slowly this time, gripping your arm tight and making you wince from pain. He wasn’t aware of his own strength right now. Seeing the look on your face, he quickly removed his hand from your arm, but stayed still waiting for your answer.

“She doesn’t wanna talk right now, asshole!” Before you could even say anything, Red yelled out, moving right next to you and locking her arm on yours, to show him that you weren’t alone. “And it’s almost time for class anyway. Fuck off.” 

You loved Red McArthur, you really did. That was one of your best friends right there. You didn’t regret at all having told her everything about your fight with Butters, were extremely grateful for the support she had shown you throughout, and you’d surely be glad for her intervention in any other situation. However, she was the one that should be thankful right now - thankful that the knives in the school cafeteria were dull, otherwise you’d have picked up one and stabbed her on the spot. You and your ex were still in a rift, sure, but he was the person you wanted to talk to the most right now and she was denying you that. Even if unknowingly, she was currently being the ultimate cockblocker, or pussy-blocker?

You took a deep breath, something that the other girls probably took as an attempt to dial down your anger at Butters, but that was in reality so you wouldn’t yell at your best friend in front of everyone else. “It’s alright, Red. Go on without me, we won’t take long.” You spoke as calmly as you could, waving them away with your hand and taking your arm away from hers.

As soon as you did so, Butters took you by the wrist and started to power walk in a completely different direction from everyone else, and you had a hard time matching his footsteps while trying not to bump into the groups of students everywhere. You wondered where the hell he was even taking you in such a hurry. For a while, he also seemed confused - he looked towards every door as you went, as if searching for something himself -, but then he made a decision, taking you up two sets of stairs to the third floor of the school building, where he surprised you again by pulling you inside the handicapped restroom.

Unlike the other toilets in the school, the ones reserved for handicapped people were single-user, and since there weren’t many disabled students that were willing to go all the way to the third floor to pee, this one was actually always seen to be in great condition. It was quite spacious to make it easy to maneuver wheelchairs, and also away from many of the actual occupied classrooms. Whatever it was that Butters wanted to discuss with you, he clearly didn’t want anyone else listening.

While he turned to lock the door, you took a few small steps towards the other side of the restroom, standing in the middle of it. You crossed your arms and straightened your posture, trying to look as stiff and unsympathetic as possible. Maybe it was overkill, you had agreed to be here so that already sent the message that you were at least willing to listen, but you didn’t want him to think for a second that he still had your heart on a chokehold like he did.

He took a deep breath as he turned to face you, as if trying to collect his thoughts. “Look, I know you’re mad at me and I’m mad at you and you prolly don’t wanna see me none, but I have no one else to turn to! I need your help!” He blurted out, his arms in front of him like he was ready to push you back if you were to become aggressive.

You frowned. “YOU need MY help? With what?” 

“I… I can’t say it, okay?” He was fighting with his thoughts now, knowing that he’d need to speak up, but couldn’t bring himself to. “It’s a heck of a thing and I can’t really explain it and I don’t even know if it can be explained-”

“Stop with the rambling!” You stomped your foot on the ground to alert him. “Either you tell me what this is about or I’m leaving!”

At this moment, he averted his eyes to the ground, avoiding your gaze as if that would conceal his feelings of absolute shame. His hands moved to his waist, untying his jacket and letting it fall to the floor, and the reason why he wasn’t wearing it immediately became clear - he had a noticeable tent in the front of his pants, which the sleeves of the jacket previously hung in front of, covering the view. 

As soon as you saw, it took you every little bit of restraint you had not to immediately drop to your knees, free his dick of its confinements and take it in your mouth to suck him dry. You felt your saliva building up, ready to make it as sloppy as possible too. But it would mean a complete lack of self-respect on your part to give in without at least him properly asking for it (you could faintly hear the voice of Red in your head scolding you for that), and you also needed to negotiate your own release, so you just swallowed it all back and waited as he built up the courage to continue talking.

“I tried jacking off in the stalls, watching porn on my phone, heck, even meditating to make it go away… It’s not enough. Nothing is. I NEED YOU.” He grabbed both your wrists with his hands and stared deep into your eyes as he pleaded. “I’ll do anything you want if you help me. If you never wanna see me again, I’ll leave! Forever! Just please help me! I can’t stand this anymore!”

You were far from wanting him to leave forever, not when he begged like this, looking like a hungry lost puppy. The poor man was so overwhelmed by his own arousal that he couldn’t notice the fact that you had taken a few steps towards him to close the distance between you instead of widening it. “Anything?” You murmured, to which he nodded vigorously. 

You wriggled your wrists out of his hold and took his hand in yours, guiding it towards your crotch. Your other hand quickly opened the buttons and zipper in your pants, and you pulled it down just a little, just barely halfway down your butt. The wetness between your legs had created a damp spot in your panties, and when you guided Butters’ hand to feel it, the mere brush of his hand over your extremely sensitive area was enough to make your breath hitch even through the fabric. He noticed it immediately, and you saw his eyes widen. “I believe we can help each other.”

He needed no more explanation, maybe due to fear that talking any longer would make you change your mind. So he quickly clashed his mouth onto yours, needy and desperate, wrapping both his arms around you with unusual strength - whatever it is that was driving him mad was also making him act differently than what you’re used to, but you were here for it. As you kissed him back, you felt his usually soft lips to be slightly raw - he had probably been biting them in his anxiety earlier. You didn’t have a second to dwell on it, though, because his tongue swiftly started to brush over yours, an invitation for a dance that you gladly accepted.

Still completely glued to your mouth, Butters started to take small steps, which made you walk backwards, all the way to the other side of the restroom. As your back touched the wall, you felt one of the horizontal metal grab rails under you. You shifted so more of your ass was on top of it, not completely seated (the bar was too narrow for it), but just giving you the extra support in case you needed it. The current position had you firm on your right foot, while the other hovered slightly above ground. Your legs being more open also allowed for Butters to get even closer with his hips, his erection so close to your pussy, separated only by the clothes you both wore.

In one swift motion, Butters hiked up both your blouse and your bra, not even caring about the back clasps, taking everything off and exposing your breasts to the slightly cold air of the restroom as well as to his hungry gaze. The latter wasn’t true for much long, though - he closed his eyes and dove immediately with his mouth to your left nipple, sucking on it and flicking the hardened bud with the tip of his tongue, while his right hand took care of the other breast, massaging it softly. Your nipples were already sensitive by nature, but right now they felt connected to all other nerves in your body, and the stimulation had you whimpering in pleasure.

Your lover started to alternate between one breast and the other with his mouth, giving both the same amount of love and attention - wherever his mouth wasn’t, one of his hands was sure to be, kneading the soft flesh and flicking your peaks slightly. The other hand would then be running around your chest, arms and belly, feeling your soft skin and making up for lost time. 

On your end, one of your hands grabbed hard on the metal rail below you, even if that wouldn’t do you much to make you stable. The other ran through Butters’ hair, caressing it - a type of caring behavior that almost felt out of place considering the borderline sinful thoughts you had all day and the situation you found yourself in right now, but that was doing wonders for him, since it made him even more eager to keep loving on your tits.

You could also feel his hips rutting towards plain air near you, as he tried to satiate his throbbing dick even a little bit. Not wanting to deny him any part of this experience when he was treating you so right, you moved one of your legs closer to him, putting your knee between his legs and allowing him to grind on your thigh. He took the offer immediately and responded by growling against your breast and sending some more shivers through your body with the vibrations.

The new stimulus had Butters going wild. He was getting more feral with his treatment of your body - taking your nipples between his fingers, tugging at them and twisting slightly. He started to graze your bud with his teeth, which soon turned into full-on love bites all across your nipples and breasts, the red patches not looking so jarring now that your whole skin was so flushed, but they’d certainly be a nice keepsake later.

When you started to feel that familiar tension in your muscles, the pleasure in your nipples spreading like a flame under your skin, it came as a surprise. You hadn’t ever climaxed from just him working your nipples before - hell, was that even possible? -, and it had sneaked up on you, first feeling like if lightning was gentle, an electric tingle all over your body that sparked like fireworks. Then there was no denying the well-known wave of pleasure that hit you like a tsunami, crashing your whole world around you and making your knees buckle. 

Sensing your loss of balance in front of him, Butters quickly let go of your breasts and wrapped his arms around your waist. You wouldn’t have fallen either way, catching yourself in the metal bar behind you with a firm grip, but the consideration was appreciated. As he looked at you with a worried expression and breathing through his mouth anxiously, you felt the walls of your pussy spasming again and more slick dripping in your panties. 

“You okay?” His eyes ran through your body, looking for anything that might be wrong, and coming up short. You were absolutely perfect as always.

“More than.” You purred with a smile, giving him a brief kiss. When your mouths parted ways, he tilted his head closer to yours ever so slightly, almost as if chasing your lips with his. Savoring his yearning, you pucker up your lips and make a kissing sound, before tugging at his shirt. “You’re gonna kill me like this though. Just let me feel you already.”

It was his time to smile. “Okay, honey”, he hummed, fixing his posture - and you closed your eyes happily, not having noted how much you missed him calling you pet names until now. He locked mouths with you again and his hands drifted down between you two, pulling further down the hem of your jeans and tracing your slit through the soaked panties, earning from you a sharp moan.

His mouth left yours so he could focus on ridding you of the rest of your outfit, and you held down on the grab rail with your other hand as he lifted your legs – first one, then the other so you could keep stability - to remove your shoes, pants and undergarments completely. You would’ve helped him to make the job quicker, but he seemed to be enjoying the ride now that he had you back in his embrace. Once he had fully taken everything off, he planted a quick kiss on the inside of your lifted thigh, making you shudder.

Slowly and carefully letting go of your leg, Butters took another look at your full body as you stood there naked for him. He wanted to kiss every inch of you, show you as much of his love as possible, but there was also this overpowering lust. Not wanting to spend another second more not touching you, he made quick work of his own pants and boxers while you grabbed onto his shirt and pulled it over his head, throwing it somewhere and allowing his bare chest to touch yours. You were both drenched in sweat at this point, and your naked bodies basically glued together like that, but in the haze none of that mattered.

Butters lifted your left leg up again and held your thigh firmly against his hip with his right arm, while his other hand stroked his shaft slowly as he moved to position it against your entrance. You felt your cunt clench tight as the head of his cock breached your folds, and you were sure he could feel it too, as his breath hitched and his eyes fluttered when you tried to look at them. “Need me that bad, huh?”, he murmured, giving you a kiss on the cheek. “I need you too, honey. Can’t be without you no more.”

With that, he thrusted into you in one swift motion - your surreal wetness making it easy for him to bottom out several inches deep inside of you, the familiar sting you felt as he stretched you being eased by how aroused you already were. The both of you moaned almost in unison at this very welcomed sensation, and in a moment of pseudo-clarity you remembered that you couldn’t be loud like this, a realization that did not seem to grace Butters as he started to push out and back into you with more fully open-mouthed moans. You quickly put one of your hands in the back of his head and push it towards the crook of your neck, where he starts to place quick but strong suckles and bites, not caring for - actually downright wanting - the marks they’d leave.

“Shh, honey” You whispered with the softest of voices, not wanting him to get discouraged, but still needing to give him a reminder. “Can’t get loud in here or they’ll catch us. Just do this for me, okay?” 

It was hard for you to heed your own warning, though - with each quick and hard slam of his hips, plus his assault on your neck, you wanted nothing more than to have him hear just how good he was doing. You settle for biting your own lip and keeping your moans in your mouth, which to him seemed to sound even hotter - as he sped up the pace of his thrusts with newfound energy, getting high on the sound of your muffled whimpers and the wet sound of his dick plunging inside your weeping cunt.

The force with which his hips struck your body had you sliding up and down against the wall, your tits bouncing with the movement. His hot breath on your neck made the fine hairs on your whole body stand up, and your back arched, which made him hit that sweet spot inside of you even more perfectly now. Needing to be closer, closer, you let your hands go from the grab rails where they had settled before and wrap your arms around Butters’ neck, relying on him like your last connection to the Earth now. You were glad he had enough strength to hold you with just the lower half of your body pinned to the cold bathroom tiles while still jackhammering into you.

As Butters raised his head from your neck to take a brief look at you through his half-lidded eyes, he used a lot of self-restraint to not cum on the spot. You were a whole mess: disheveled hair, face moist with sweat, a soft reddish tint spread through your whole body, but more prominent on your cheeks, nose, and breasts. You weren’t staring back at him, eyes tight shut as the feeling of his cock inside of you distracted you from using any of your other senses. He wanted to kiss your rosy puffy lips again, but wouldn’t risk disturbing the pretty noises that came out of your throat as you tried so hard to not let out the loud moans you wanted to. “Yeah, that’s it, baby... You’re so… good to me...” He laid his head back on the crook of your neck, but didn’t go back to biting - instead, he inhaled deeply, taking all of your scent in, your faint perfume that he loved mixed with your sweat and… a hint of vanilla? “Lemme make you… feel even better…” 

His last sentence slurred into nonsense, but in the blur you barely registered it. You also didn’t even notice how he sneaked his left hand between your bodies, coating his thumb with the splattered juices around your cunt before moving it up and rubbing quick circles in your clit, increasing your pleasure in an almost overwhelming way. You felt a sharp sting in your lip and a metallic taste - in your efforts to not make any noise, you had bitten your lip so hard it broke skin. The pain, however, was quickly overshadowed by Butters’ ministrations, and you slapped one of your hands over your mouth to silence yourself, leaning with your back against the wall again.

It wasn’t like any past fuck you ever had. Everything was heightened; You heard every slap of his skin against yours and all the little sharp breaths both of you took as you tried to avoid being too loud in your pleasure, you could feel every single vein in his cock squeezing through your tight walls, and you saw whole galaxies even through your closed eyes. 

As that coil inside of your belly was getting tighter and tighter, so were your walls against Butters’ cock - and you knew that had to be catching up to him, as he started to lose the pace on his thrusts, and the muscle in his arms and legs seemed to become even more tense. “‘m- I- can’t hold much longer like this, sweets!” It seemed almost impossible for him to get the words out, having to say them through quick breaths as he got close to his release himself. “You’re just… too good…”

Then there was no warning as he let out a loud growl and his hips hit your body with one final deep slam, and you felt his dick pulsating as he filled the deepest part of you with his hot seed. The thumb in his left hand, however, still flicked your clit viciously, and so it didn’t take much longer for you to come undone, your cunt gripping his throbbing dick as the pleasure washed over your body for a second time.

As both of you dissolved into each other’s bodies, you found it in yourself to take his face in your shaky hands and press his lips to yours once more. Unlike your previous kisses of today, though, this moment was much more kind and full of tenderness, feeling exactly like the ones you shared throughout your relationship with him. You both felt loved and cared for, and while that rough fuck session took care of the needs of your physical bodies, the kiss took care of your souls.

You only dared part your mouths this time when it became necessary to breathe, and both of you sported soft smiles after you did, tired, but happy. You started using one of your hands to brush back through your fingers the multiple small strands of hair glued to his forehead, while the other caressed his cheek. He leaned into your touch, resting his hands on your waist. His dick was softening, but he didn’t feel keen on pulling out just yet, relishing the closeness of your bodies like this.

“I love you, Leo.” You finally broke the ice after a couple of minutes like this, giving him a peck on the forehead, to draw his attention back to Earth.

“Geez, by now I sure hope so!” You couldn’t help but giggle at his ever present sincerity. “I love you too, (Y/N).”

As you smiled and took note of your actual environment for the first time in a while, an idea came to mind. “Wanna get away from here?” You already knew what his answer would be to this offer, but you wanted to make your intentions clear nonetheless. “We can find someplace else where we can make some real noise.”

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

You and Butters didn’t come back for the rest of classes, and nobody in school had an answer to where you were, either. All texts sent to you or him went unanswered for that day, and your friends had no idea what happened.

What they could certainly say they saw, though, was the pair of you arriving at school together the next morning with a pep in both your steps, chatting away and smiling as you held hands. Everyone was left speechless, and some even questioned if the last few days had even been real. 

The only person who didn’t seem confused was Eric Cartman, his nonchalant behavior earning him plenty of questioning from the other dudes the following days, but he refused to admit to anything. And why would he, anyway? You and his friend were back together, happy as could be, the sun was up in the sky, everything was right. And, if it ever stopped being that way, he had a certain tiny bottle in the back of his wardrobe to sort things out again.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[that-student-that-has-homework]

Pretty Girl - Portgas D. Ace

I read this lovely little snippet by @mrsoharaa and felt the need to know what would happen next. Written with permission!

Check out my MasterList for more of my writing!

To be fair, Marco actually wasn’t teasing him this time. He’d been nose deep in a book and was just as deep in his thoughts when he’d made the request.

“Hey Ace, can you go and call” the first division commander squinted at the book, trying to recall the words but was clearly too distracted to, “can you call-we-what was-just call your pretty girl for me yoi?”

He wasn’t teasing him this time. 

Ace had just simply had enough.

//—----------

It had started in the morning? maybe afternoon? who knows what time it was…after some good old fashion pirate revelry until who knows what hour of the evening.

He’d woken up in some weird kinda angle on some random corner of the ship, with a bit of a headache. So like any other day, he made his way over to the kitchen to get some food to fix his problem. After all, if his head hurt, he probably just needed some food, right?

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the slick Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates,” the Division Commander in question blinked at his Fourth Division counterpart, his lips pulling up at the strange greeting.

What’d he mean by slick though? Just thinking about it made his head squeeze, so he decided to push it off until he had some food in his system.

“Thatch, I’m hungry,” he declared as he slumped himself on the kitchen counter, throwing his bottom half on a stool there, “gimme somethin’ to eat.”

“Comin’ right up,” the cook shot him an amused grin as he went about grabbing his disgruntled younger brother-in-arms some food.

“Hungover?” The question came from Ace’s side, where the head doctor sat, sipping on a cup of…well it wasn’t alcohol.

“Huh?” The younger man just blinked, trying to get the fog out of his brain. “Nah.” He rolled onto his side to better face his older brother. “Just got a headache.”

“Sounds like a hangover to me yoi,” the doc grinned over the rim of his mug.

Ace didn’t pay him much mind though, waiting for his food to arrive.

Though his silence seemed to encourage his companion, “especially with how much you drank last night.”

“Wasn’t that much,” he ruffled his hair in hopes to alleviate some of the pounding in his head.

“It was enough that you called a certain someone ‘pretty girl.’”

A moment of silence passed as Ace continued to aggressively knead at his scalp. His mind very sluggishly processing Marco’s words…he was just about to fall asleep again with how much his he-

HE DID WHAT?!

That blew all the fog and grog out of Ace’s brain and body, as he all but sprung to his feet in shock. The medic in front of him offered him little more than his usual lazy, lopsided grin.

The vertigo hit him right as the adrenaline wore off, and he was clutching to the counter to save himself from smacking into the ground. His grip only tightened as he heard footsteps from the other side of the counter rejoin them.

“Yo Ace, I fixed you a plate for your pretty girl too,” he chirped sliding over two plates, “if you wanted to go and deliver it to her.”

It had been a while since Pops had clobbered him, but the memory of his audacious, disastrous, flirty remark hit him much like one of Pops’ fists did. Of all things, he only came up with pretty girl? 

He-just-urgh-just-just where was his hat when he needed it? He resorted to using his hands to hide his face from the other two commanders. He didn’t need to see them to know they were grinning - they were just oozing with entertainment.

“Ah don’t worry slick,” he could hear Thatch’s voice getting closer, “I’d say she took it well enough.”

The way the cook only barely got his sentence out before he and Marco broke out into snickers said otherwise. Ace grabbed his plate of food and moved to find a different corner of the massive galleon to eat in.

For the next few days, the different commanders would wink, snicker, smirk, borderline leer at him whenever you were in his general vicinity. They weren’t subtle about it, given pirates were generally as subtle as a sea king on land. They didn’t have to say it out loud for him to hear it though: 

“Pretty girl.” 

The behavior spread to the rest of the crew like wildfire. He’d have compared the spread to some nasty disease, but those usually knocked people out. Unfortunately this one seemed to rile them up, everyone seemed overly eager to be able to poke at him for his drunken declaration. By the end of the week, even the swabbies were in on it. They weren’t as bad as the commanders, but…ugh. Just…anyhow you’d think that, after a week, it would become old news, but no. 

Nope. 

Not this news. 

Seems everyone on this damn ship was a gossip. Grown ass grizzled pirates, reduced to giggling gossiping gaggles of gremlins. The Second Division Commander couldn’t go for more than a few hours without hearing some kinda comment, or getting some kinda look. 

Even pops was in on it now! 

He’d found out when the old man had grinned at him, what was worse was that it was a good-natured grin. He wasn’t teasing him…but what he said to him, as a kind of encouragement, had left this poor son of Whitebeard feeling more flustered than ever.

Unfortunately all his attempts at getting the crew to cut it out were falling on deaf ears. His fellow commanders in particular had no problem ignoring his requests and continuing to tease him, which of course emboldened the rest of the crew. 

Of course the worst part had to be…well, there was no way you didn’t know about what was happening. After all, you always put on an unbothered face, but he knew it had to be making you uncomfortable. After all it wasn’t like he’d ever followed up on that pretty girl comment while sober. Though he wouldn’t deny the little amused simpers that you’d put on whenever your fellow crew mates would leer at him had his heart doing little flips.

Anyway…

Things had finally died down a bit, with Ace getting some peace of mind. People had finally gotten bored. Meaning he could probably try…y’know…approaching you while sober…

Well they’d mostly died down…

//—--

“SHE IS PRETTY ALRIGHT?!” Yeah he’d had enough. “Do none of y'all have eyes?!” He raged on, over a week’s worth of agitation erupting from him violently. 

“So what if I called her pretty girl?” There was a kind of catharsis in seeing the First Division Commander staring at him bug-eyed. “It wasn't a lie!” He threw his hands up in agitation. “That's for sure.”

“Uh A-”

“Like you all don't state the obvious sometimes!” He pointed an accusatory finger at everyone who was in the infirmary…which wasn’t much, but Thatch hadn’t left yet and he was one of the guys that teased him the most!

“A-”

“And!” He was burning up the whole place and there was no stopping him. “I never said she was my pretty girl! I just said she was a pretty girl!” Little flickers of fire left his shoulders. “And she definitely is pretty!” He flexed his fingers. “Gorgeous, beautiful, pretty, all the words that mean that!”

The Second Division Commander’s chest and shoulders heaved from the way he was panting after his rant. Man it felt good to get it off his chest.

He shook his head, getting the remaining frustration out before rolling his shoulders out. He felt a whole lot better. He stretched his neck, before turning to look at his stunned fellow commanders.

“Hey Thatch, I’m hungry,” he grinned, “can you make me something to eat? Or should I just go raid the fridge?”

That seemed to snap the cook out of it, “keep yourself out of my fridge and out of my kitchen hotshot!”

“Uh…Ace,” the fiery man turned to look at the medic that had sparked this outburst.

“Oh Marco, what did you need again?” He’d asked him to do something before mentioning you.

“It’s no problem yoi,” strange, the doctor seemed to be looking behind him.

Was there someone behind him? The young commander turned around - 

Shoot.

He hadn’t said anything negative! But dang what he said sure as hell was damning. He must sound like a total creep. Just going on and on about how pretty he thinks you are. Could someone just launch him into the sea?

It didn’t help that the most unrelenting of the division commanders were here to see this horrifying display. They weren’t ever going to let him live this dow-

“You think I’m pretty?” You asked, hope pulling your lips up tentatively. “Even while sober?”

Ace managed to nod at that.

Gosh he felt stupid. This wasn’t how he wanted to do it. Why was he so trash at trying to compliment you?

“Well I think you’re pretty too,” you gave him a good-natured smile, “so there, we’re even.”

“Really?” Gah! Why was that the first thing out of his mouth?

Oh gosh it was so cute the way you fiddled with your fingers. You only ever did that when you were nervous-you only ever did that when you were nervous.

“I mean,” you grinned, “haven’t you ever looked in a mirror Ace?”

Ace was sure he’d turned his face to fire at that point. He was here fumbling over his feet like a baby dear, and you were so smooth, you might as well be polishing the deck with wax.

“Um, in case that wasn’t clear,” you continued, “yes, really Ace, you’re pretty.”

Thatch let out a low whistle then, “well would you look at that,” he grinned, “a pretty boy for a pretty girl.”

“Stop teasing him Thatch,” you sighed, shooting the cook a look, “you’ve all teased him more than enough already.”

“Yo,” the longtime resident of the infirmary called out to you, “I was actually going to send Ace to find you yoi.”

“Oh did you need something Marco?” You walked further into the room, passing by the stunned pretty boy.

“Were you busy today yoi?”

“Not really, why? Did you need help?”

You thought he was pretty too? 

Would you consider, maybe, going out on a date? He couldn’t help but stare at you as you continued to talk with his First Division Counterpart. He wasn’t about to ask you here, in front of these jerks, but maybe later…

Maybe later…

When you were sitting on the bow looking up at the stars that dotted the night sky. He’d ask you. 

And you’d say yes.

[suugarbabe]

Saving Grace (III)

[Chapter 3]

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Word count: ~4.3k (she a long one this time 'round)

Warning: drinking, smut adjacent content [readers below the age of 18 this is your warning to be aware of the content you consume]

Summary: The Slytherin party has arrived and y/n may have gone a little too far...

[chapter 2]

You spun around once more, inspecting your outfit from every possible angle. You had asked Pansy if she wanted to get ready with you and your friends, partly because you wanted to get to know her a bit better, and partly because you knew she’d help you look hot enough to actually convince other people that you and Mattheo were together for the night. She was a lot nicer than you expected, getting along with your friends, all of you helping each other pick out your outfits and finish each other's hair. Pansy had let you borrow one of her mini dresses. It was a gorgeous emerald green, made of silk and hitting mid-thigh. It had a corset laced back, helping your waist look snatched as the pleated bodice helped accentuate your cleavage just enough to be tempting. You made the decision to pair it with a pair of black Doc Marten boots you had borrowed from your friend Luna. You had no idea why a doctor was making boots, but you thought they were adorable and made a mental note to ask Luna where you could get a pair the next time you saw her. Flora and Ottie were sitting on their beds while Darcy and Pansy told you for the third time how perfect your outfit was. 

“You’re absolutely sure, guys? I feel like if I were to bend over my entire ass would be out,” you peered over your shoulder at the mirror, seeing the silk fabric lay just below the curve of your ass. Pansy smirked to herself, “If you’re bending over at all tonight let’s hope it’s Mattheo bending you over the edge of his bed.” You gasped, cheeks burning red, “Pansy Parkinson! That will not be happening tonight.” She shrugged, “I bet he would. I see the way he looks at you. It’s different than the other girls he’s brought around. No offense.” Darcy and Flora both shrugged nonchalantly . “No, you’re right,” Flora agreed, “We were both drunk when we made out with him. Just kind of feral and a natural instinct. He seems to really like you, Y/n/n.” You opened your mouth to protest again when a quick rapping came from the door. Darcy opened it, greeting the person and stepping aside to let them in. “Why hello ladies,” Mattheo’s voice floated into the room, as did he along with it. 

He was wearing black straight legged slacks that were cuffed at the bottom, displaying his black high top converse. He wore a black tank top with a black short sleeved button up, completely unbuttoned. For a seemingly simple outfit, he looked really handsome. “We’ll give you guys a minute and meet you down there,” Ottie winked behind Mattheo’s back while Pansy flashed you two thumbs up, the other two girls dragging them out the door, leaving you alone in the dorm with Mattheo. He stood with his hands in his pockets, but a smirk plastered on his face as he gave you a once over. You started getting nervous, “How do I look? Is it too much? Pansy let me borrow a dress.” You did a slow circle, giving him a view of the whole picture. “No, no. I mean, I think you look great. Better than great, bloody gorgeous really.” You felt blood rush to your cheeks at his compliment, “You don’t think it’s a little too revealing? It’s not like teasing Adrian or anything? The plan is to get him to back off after all, not drool over me.” Mattheo flung his hand like he was throwing your words and worries away, “Princess, wear whatever makes you feel good, revealing or not. Doesn’t matter to me, I know how to fight.” He punctuated his statement with a wink. 

You rolled your eyes, grinning at his remark, “Okay, machismo, well hopefully it doesn’t come to that.” You walked past him to the door. You grabbed the handle, turning back to him once more before opening the door, “Are you accompanying me to this party, or you gonna stand there and stare at my ass all night.” His eyes snapped up to meet yours immediately, mumbling a shy ‘sorry’ as his cheeks tinted the slightest pink. He led you down the steps from the dorms to the common room where the party was in full swing, a hand helping guide you just above the curve of your ass. As soon as you stepped off the last step, you broke through the barrier of the silencing charm that was placed on the room and your ears erupted with heavy bass. You spotted your three friends in the middle of the dance floor as Mattheo led you to his group’s usuals spot in the back corner. You had spoken with Ottie, Darcy and Flora earlier that day and they all agreed you should spend the party getting to know Mattheo better. You tried to argue against them, but they truly believed you two were on the verge of dating and loved that, for the moment, it seemed like someone was keeping Adrian off your back. 

As you reached the couches, the rest of his group was already there, Pansy included. Mattheo sat in one of the arm chairs, patting his thigh for you to sit on his lap. You raised your eyebrows at him slightly, a smile tugging at your lips, “I think I’m gonna grab a drink first, do you want one?” He offered to grab them for you but you insisted, he agreed only if you brought Pansy with you. She, of course, agreed immediately. Mattheo requested a fire whiskey, stating he took it “straight, on the rocks”. You could understand why some people thought he was psychotic by that drink request alone. You opted for a gin and orange juice that was very much so gin and more of a wafting of the citrus mixer. You weren’t exactly sure why but you were feeling nervous. Your answer to your nerves was revealed when you and Pansy turned to head back to the boys and you nearly slammed into Adrian’s chest. “Merlin’s beard, what do you want, Pucey?” Your tone was laced with irritation but Adrian didn’t seem to take the hint, “Just wanted to tell you how breathtaking you looked tonight, Y/n.” You rolled your eyes, looking over at Pansy who had her tongue out and her finger in her mouth faking a gagging noise. “Fuck off, shit stain, Y/n came with someone else tonight,” Pansy threw her shoulder into him, knocking him back enough for you both to walk past him. 

You could feel him staring as you both walked away and a chill found its way up your spine. As you reached the group you could tell Mattheo saw the entire interaction just by the glare on his face. You walked up to his chair, standing in front of him with a drink in each hand. “This seat taken?” You asked, nodding towards his lap. He smirked as you turned around, he placed a hand on each side of your waist, helping guide you down to his lap before taking a cup from one of your hands. He took a large gulp before his face immediately twisted in disgust, “Fucking Salazar’s dick, Y/n! Is this straight gin?!” You winced, “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, Matty! Yours is this one,” you switched the cup he was holding with the one from your other hand. “And for your information, there is also orange juice in there. Don’t be such a baby,” you grabbed at his face, squeezing it playfully and making his lips purse slightly. He pushed your hand off him, grin forming on his lips. “Don’t let her fool you, she put maybe a drops worth of juice in there,” Pansy spoke up. You shot her a look, but she only shrugged. 

“Mattheo’s new girl likes to drink…I dig it,” Theo nudged Enzo who laughed along with him. “Alright, Mattheo! Finally found one that can hang with the rest of us huh?” Mattheo squeezed the outside of your thigh playfully, resting his chin on your shoulder as he answered his friend, “Yeah, she’s different this one. Got a bit of sass to her, too so I’d watch out.” The group laughed together, making you feel a little more at ease. You all started chatting for a bit, general banter occurring between the boys. It was fun to watch them tease each other. Enzo seemed to be the butt of most of their jokes but he didn’t seem to mind, taking everything said in stride like a good sport. Blaise was the one to suggest playing a game, everyone seemed up for it but there was a collective agreement that refills were necessary. Mattheo offered to get yours and you gladly accepted. He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead before following a few of the others to the drink table, leaving just you, Enzo and Draco to keep your spot in the corner reserved. You placed one of Theo’s empty beer bottles in the middle of the floor between all the couches, flicking your wand to transform it into a table. Enzo wore a drunken smile, “I love magic.” You ruffled his hair as you went to sit back in your spot, “Me too, bub.” You sat back in the armchair, slinging your legs over one of the sides. 

You noticed Draco staring at you, a less than pleased look on his face. You rolled your eyes, leaning an elbow on one of the arm rests, “Care to share what’s on your mind Draco?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Yeah, yeah I do actually. What do you even like about my cousin? I don’t know if I believe this little thing between you two is even real.” You felt like your body temperature rose ten degrees, but you tried to play it off, “He always this skeptical, Enzo?” You tried to distract from the question aimed at you. Enzo giggled to himself, “Always.” You turned back to look at Draco who, once again, looked irritated and still waiting on your answer. You huffed, “I happen to think Mattheo is very funny. He’s also very witty, and incredibly kind.” Draco scoffed at this, “Did you say kind? That’s definitely not a word that describes him.” You continued to sing Mattheo’s praises, “I think you’d be surprised.” The others started coming back around at that moment. “What would be surprising?” Mattheo asked as he handed you your new drink. He lifted your legs, sliding into the chair before setting them back down across his lap, resting a hand on your knee. “I was just telling Draco how kind you were,” You smiled at Mattheo as the others attempted to hide their grins, “Are you tarnishing my bad boy reputation, Princess?” Mattheo mocked offense, giving your knee a light squeeze, you squealed softly, squirming in your seat as he grabbed your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His curls tickled your skin, making you laugh further, attempting to push him off you. 

“Okay, lovebirds, real it in before we all vomit,” Theo teased. You turned to him, “Awh, don’t be jealous, Theo. I can have my friends come over and hang with us if you’re lonely.” You were half joking just to mess with him, but his eyes lit up at the suggestion. “If you have hot friends why are they not already over here, where are they?” He turned to look at the crowd of dancing bodies, a hand over his eyes like he was searching the oceanside. Pansy jumped up immediately, stating she would go grab them because, “games are more fun when the boy to girl ratio is properly even.” You turned to Blaise then, “Alright, gamekeeper. What’re we playing tonight?” His face broke out into a grin, grabbing another one of Theo’s empty beer bottles and placing it on the table, “It’s a little mix of a few different games. You’ll spin the bottle, whoever it lands on gets the age old question: Truth or dare. If you refuse or answer, or refuse to do the dare, you drink.” It was simple enough, but with this lot you could definitely see how it could get out of hand. Pansy came back with your other three friends in tow. Ottie sat on the couch with Pansy and Draco, while Flora and Darcy sat on either side of Theo, who looked like he was in heaven. Darcy was sat between both Theo and Enzo, the latter boy’s face looking like he’d never been that close to a female person in his life. Pansy volunteered to spin first, placing the bottle on its side and giving it a good twirl. 

It stopped on Enzo, Pansy smiled wickedly, “Enzo, truth or dare?” Enzo looked like he might pass out, which told you that you were right to assume how intense these games get, and that Pansy was likely going to be ruthless. “Truth?” Enzo said it more like a question, probably assuming it’d be the safer choice between the two options. Pansy’s face revealed that neither option was going to prove easy, “Okay, who were you thinking about the last time you got a boner?” You had to cover your mouth to conceal your laughter, however others in the circle were not as kind. If looks could kill, Pansy would be dead, but Enzo braved up and answered, “Astoria.” “Greengrass?!” Flora covered her mouth, not meaning to sound as shocked. “In Enzo’s defense, her skirt was proper short in Ancient Runes this week, so you can’t blame him,” Theo patted his friend's shoulder, but Enzo’s face was stained red. Enzo spun the bottle, ready for the attention to be off of him and on to somebody else. The bottle stopped while facing Theo, “Truth or dare, Theo?” He took a swig of his drink, “Let’s go truth this round.” Enzo sat up straighter, “Fine, have you ever had a crush on anyone in the circle? And if so, who?” Theo scoffed, “Easy, Y/n.” You were shocked to say the least, “What? Me? When?” He shrugged, “Dunno, like year three or something I think?” You turned to look at Ottie who was doing the worst job possible containing her laughter. To say she she was past the feeling of buzzed was an understatement as she seemed to lose the ability to keep her mouth shut, “That is actually hilarious because Y/n also had a crush on you in year three.” 

You launched a pillow at her head, which she somehow managed to deflect, “Seriously, Ottie? What the fuck?” You looked over at Theo who was wearing a proud smirk. “What a missed opportunity, Y/n. To think it could’ve been my lap you were sitting on tonight,” He threw you a wink and you hid your face in your hands. “Watch it, Nott,” Mattheo warned with a playful tone, running his fingers up and down your back to soothe you through your embarrassment. The game continued, dares being thrown wildly around the circle, surface truth’s being told between each other, alcohol being downed by those refusing to do either depending on who and what was asked of them. You were pleasantly surprised at how well your friends seemed to mesh with Mattheo’s. Darcy had kissed both Blaise and Theo. Blaise had dared Draco to smile, who refused because the dare was “ridiculous” and instead chugged half his drink in one go. You were having fun, relaxing further into Mattheo the more you drank. You thought how nothing could ruin the good time you were having until you spotted Pucey leaning against the wall just beyond the couches. He was glaring at you and Mattheo and the rest of the group. You rolled your eyes, turning to look at Pansy and give her a disgusted look. She raised an eyebrow, silently asking what was wrong. You glanced sideways, not moving your head but also telling her to look to her right. As she glanced over slowly, she saw what you needed her too and she screwed her face in disgust. Thankfully it was her turn to spin the bottle again, but this time she had a plan. With her wand flush against her thigh, Pansy silently cast a spell, making the bottle stop when it pointed at you. “Truth or dare, Y/n?” Her tone more emphasized on the word dare. She had a look in her eyes that told you to pick the latter option, so you obliged. “I dare you to give Mattheo a lap dance.” 

You’re sure your eyes looked like they were going to pop out of your skull, but Pansy glanced over to where Pucey was standing again. “You don’t have to do that, Princess,” Mattheo assured you. You shook your head, “No it’s okay.” You stood up, smoothing out your dress and setting your drink and his down on the table. You turned to face him, leaning down to whisper in his ear, “We have an audience.” You grabbed his chin, turning his head slightly so he could see Adrian. Mattheo’s lips turned up at the corners ever so slightly before turning back to face you. “Now, sit back and enjoy, handsome,” you placed his hands on either arm rest of the chair, “but no touching.” You winked at him as he sat back, eyeing you up and down as he manspread on the chair. You turned back around, everyone in the circle, and pair of eyes to the side, watching you. You listened to the music of the party, allowing yourself to sway your hips back and forth. You ran your hands up your thighs slowly, grazing your fingertips over the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, over the swell of your breasts and up through your hair. You were thankful you had drank as much as you did up until this point. You bent slightly at the knees, placing a hand on each of Mattheo’s thighs, your ass hovering ever-so-slightly over his lap. You stuck your ass up just a little higher, the black lace of your thong that covered your core just peeking out below the hem of your dress. You felt Mattheo’s thighs tense as he lowly growled out, “Careful, Princess…” You stood up slowly, turning to face him now, peering over subtly to see Adrian still watching, looking angry, but not angry enough or your liking. You decided to finish the dare with a bold move, straddling one of Mattheo’s thighs. You grabbed hold of each side of his black button up, then pulled him into you, crashing your lips against his. Your tongue slid into his mouth with ease, another low growl erupting from his throat as you did so. His hands flew to your hips, grinding them down slightly making your core rub against his slacks. You whimpered, unable to control your reaction before you pulled away, chest heaving as you caught your breath. 

“Bloody hell, that was…sexy as fuck,” Enzo’s statement returned you back to reality and where you currently were. Your cheeks burned as you got off Mattheo’s leg and sat down next to him. “Guess you should’ve spoken up in year three, huh Theo,” Draco teased his friend who was now holding a pillow over his lap, face still stunned from what he just watched. “Careful, cousin,” Mattheo spoke, “Games not over yet, there’s still time to embarrass you, too.” The game continued for a little while longer, before slowly dying down. Draco and Blaise ended up having to carry Enzo back to the dorm, thankfully he was only three fourths their size so they were basically carrying a child. Your three friends said their goodbye’s shortly after. Theo and Mattheo began picking up the trash the others left behind. You went to assist when Pansy grabbed your wrist, pulling you to sit down next to her. “Bloody hell, that lap dance was amazing, Y/n! When you started making out with him, Pucey fucking crushed his cup and threw it on the ground, it was amazing,” you laughed at this. “Serves him right, he’s been being a creep to me since the start of classes,” you glanced around the room, making sure he wasn’t still somewhere stalking you. Pansy stood up, pulling you along with her, “Hopefully he doesn’t get more jealous and try to take what clearly isn’t his.” You slapped her arm playfully, “Do not place those negative manifestations into my life Pansy or I’ll sic him on you instead!” 

You felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind you, Mattheo’s chin now resting atop your head, “If you’re quite done hogging, Y/n, I think we’re going to call it a night.” Pansy kissed your cheek, “Alright, alright. Go and take your girlfriend, Riddle. But we’re talking tomorrow, Y/n/n.” You assured her you’d likely see her back in the dorm shortly but she said she “wasn’t going to hold her breath" before walking away to the room. You rolled your eyes, leading Mattheo up the stairs and down the hall towards your dorm door, the man still attached to your hips. He released you from his grip when you approached the end of the hall. You turned to face him, seeing him sporting a goofy grin. “What is it?” you questioned. He shrugged, resting his hands on your hips, “Tonight was…unexpected.” You wrapped your hands around his neck, tilting your head slightly, “What? Didn’t expect me to get along with your friends so well?” You were playing with the curls at the base of his neck. He closed his eyes, humming at the feeling of comfort the simple action gave him. “I was more so talking about the lap dance I received. Didn’t really expect that from the quiet girl at the back of Charms class.” You could still feel the alcohol flowing through you slightly, giving you a little more confidence and a lot more boldness. “Oh Matty, didn’t anyone ever tell you, it’s the quiet girls that you have to watch out for, usually they’re the kinkiest,” you patted his cheek playfully. 

He grabbed your wrist, backing you up against the wall, his knee slotted between your thighs. His eyes turned a shade darker, almost lust filled, “Careful, y/n/n…you are very close to breaking your one rule in this whole arrangement.” You opened your mouth to respond, your breath catching in your throat as Mattheo’s thigh applied pressure between your legs. Your brain finally caught up to his words, sobering you up slightly. “You’re right, I-I’m sorry,” you placed your free hand on his chest. He let your other wrist go as he took a step back. He ran a hand through his curls, “You’re fine, erm, it’s fine.” He kissed your forehead softly, “Goodnight, Y/n.” He started to walk away but you called after him, a question burning in the back of your mind, “Hey, Mattheo.” He turned back around to face you. “Why didn’t you correct her? Pansy, earlier, when she called me your girlfriend. We didn’t really tell people we were dating, the plan originally was just to be seen together at this party to get Pucey off my back.” He walked back over to you until he was standing right in front of you. You waited a beat, anticipating his answer. Instead, he reached up, grabbing the pendant of your necklace, “You wear this every day. I noticed it the first time you came up to me in the hall. A protection rune carved on...,” he flipped the pendant back and forth between his fingers, “black obsidian?” You nodded, “M-my mother gave it to me my first year.” 

He hummed to himself, letting the necklace fall back to your chest. “I didn’t correct her because I think we can help each other. Like you said before, Pucey’s persistent. You definitely pissed him off tonight but I don’t think he’s going to give up all together. You always want what you can’t have, right?” You nodded, grabbing his hand. You ran your thumb along the top of his knuckles, feeling the different bumps and scars along them, “So how does me being your girlfriend help you then? Someone you’re trying to make jealous?” He laughed lightly, “No, nothing like that.” “Then what is it?” your curiosity was peaked now. “I think it would just be good for me to have a positive influence around for a while. You saw my friends,” he laughed to himself. You weren’t quite sure if you believed his answer, but you decided tonight was not the night to press the conversation further, “Okay, Matty. I don’t mind keeping you company.” He smiled at you, another small goofy grin. A girl rounded the corner, stopping abruptly when she saw the two of you. “Erm, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Mattheo flashed an award winning smile, “No worries, darling, I was just going.” He turned back to you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “Sleep well, beautiful.” He winked at the girl in the hall as he passed her. She turned back to you as you opened the door, following as you entered the room, “You are seriously so lucky.” You sat on your bed, undoing your laces and chucking your boots off, “You have no idea.” You threw on some pajama shorts and a t-shirt, laying the dress on Pansy’s trunk. She turned over in her bed, “I’m surprised you’re sleeping here tonight.” You pulled back your covers, “I told you I’d be here, Pans.” 

She mumbled something but it got muffled by her pillow. You tucked yourself into your own bed, flicking your bedside light off. You laid on your back, staring at the ceiling. You ran the events of the party over in mind. You could partly blame the alcohol for the intensity of things between you and Mattheo tonight, but you weren’t sure it was fully to blame. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on the soft snores of the other girls in the room. You were eventually able to doze off, however your dreams were flooded with a certain curly haired boy.

[chapter 4]

Taglist:

@b3ean @l4venderia @mypolicemanharryyy @ma-las @usmell4 @carav4l

[ellephlox]

Solidarity

Summary: Frank enlists your help on a dangerous mission. Matt’s not happy about it.

Pairings: Matt x f!reader, platonic Frank Castle & f!reader, platonic Matt & Frank

Warning: Strong profanity (looking at you, Frank). Canon-typical violence. There’s also dog abuse in this, so please proceed with caution!

“You will not believe how terrible my day was.” You were already complaining aloud as you started up the stairs to Matt’s apartment, perfectly aware that he’d be able to hear you. “My boss gave me triple the amount of work that’s humanly possible to complete within a month and somehow he expects me to do it within a week. And then he had the audacity to tell me that I shouldn’t wear my hair in a ponytail because it’s ‘too informal’ for the face of the company. I mean, what the hell does that even mean?”

One of Matt’s neighbors opened their apartment door as you marched up the steps, and you quickly lifted your phone to your ear as though you were talking to someone, lest they think you were just talking to yourself. “And then my coworker took my data — you know, all that stuff I had been inputting onto that Google Doc the other day? And he presented it as his own, no credit to me. I can’t even report him because he’s supposed to retire in a week so it’s pointless anyway.” 

You continued to gripe as you unlocked the door, chucking your keys down and tossing your shoes off so violently that they hit the wall. “Anyway, I’m in a bad mood now, so I have two propositions — well, demands, I guess — for you. One: We watch Jeopardy tonight. In pajamas. I will object if you’re still wearing a tie.” You unzipped your coat and tossed it haphazardly onto the coat rack. “Two: My friend asked if we’ve ever showered together before — you know, typical girl talk questions — and I told her we hadn’t, so I was thinking—” You stopped dead as you entered the living room, your stomach plummeting. Leaning on the wall by the window, arms crossed, was Matt, wearing his devil suit, complete with the helmet on and his billy clubs dangling in his hands. And across from him, standing with an actual gun in his hand, was Frank Castle. Mortification sent heat into your face, and for a moment you just stood there, at a loss for words. 

“We have company,” Matt said dryly, uncrossing his arms and standing up straight.

“I can see that,” you said finally. “You didn’t think to... I don’t know, shoot a text warning me?” Your cheeks were searing; had you seriously just proposed showering with Matt in front of the Punisher, of all people? 

“I was a bit preoccupied all day with making sure Trigger Happy over here didn’t shoot anyone,” Matt said, his jaw tense. 

Frank snorted. “Red, you’d be bleeding out in an alley if I hadn’t saved your ass. Get off your high horse.”

“Yeah. Okay. But you couldn’t have said something, anything at all, when I walked in?  Like, ‘Hey, honey, there’s a wanted fugitive standing in our living room, just so you know.’ Sorry, Mr. Castle,” you added in an undertone to him. “Um — I’m not trying to make you feel unwelcome or anything, I just feel a bit awkward about earlier, so—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Frank said shortly, his gaze still trained on Matt. “We gonna stand here with your girl watching us and argue all afternoon? Or are we going to get this done?”

“Get what done?” you asked.

It was Frank who answered, and from the way Matt was standing with his back straight as a ruler now, you had the sense he wasn’t pleased, for whatever reason. “There’s a shipment of heroin that’s supposed to arrive tonight. The dealers have been selling to kids on the street to make a quick buck.”

“It’s due to come in at midnight,” Matt said. “But the source I talked to last night doesn’t know which dock.”

You made of sound of sympathy. “I take it you’ll be having to sweep a lot of territory tonight, then?”

“That’s a damn understatement,” Frank said. “We’re not just talking about the docks in Hell’s Kitchen, ma’am. We’re talking all the way down to Chelsea, and the piers in Brooklyn Heights.”

“But that’s impossible to scope out,” you said slowly. “Even if Matt’s standing in the center of all the docks in Hell’s Kitchen, he couldn’t possibly hear all the way down to Chelsea, let alone Brooklyn.”

“Which is why we’re in for a rough night,” Matt said. “I called Jessica, Luke, and Danny. They’re all out of town.” He jutted his chin at Frank. “And that’s why we’re here together.”

“I ain’t happy about it either,” Frank added. “He’s already talking my ass off about moral obligation and shit. Feels like I’m in church.”

"Because you tried to stab the guy in the throat after he gave us information we needed.”

“If you could see, Red, then you’d know from the look in that guy’s eyes that he planned on murdering us the second that we turned our backs on him—”

“Which is why I tied him up and left him for Mahoney.”

“I have a better idea,” you said, cutting in before anything could escalate. “I can help.” 

Matt’s response was immediate and scathing. “No.”

"Oh, come on — I get it if you want to do your whole ‘Fly home, Buddy, I work alone’ thing, but you’re not working alone, you’re working with the Punish— I mean, Mr. Castle. I’ll be supremely insulted forever if you don’t let me help.”

“If you think that I’ll let those dealers anywhere near you—” Matt began, but you interrupted again.

“Look, I’ve always waited here patiently and uselessly while you do your deviling every night, but can’t you give me a chance? Maybe we’ll be a dream team. Terrific trio. Second Edition Avengers. The Scooby gang minus a talking dog.”

“She could help, Red,” Frank said, sending an unreadable look in your direction. “I say we do it. She can camp out at Brooklyn. I mean, the guy said that they could dock there, but they never have before. Odds are they’ll be in Chelsea or Hell’s Kitchen.”

“So, what? We throw her to the wolves in Brooklyn where we can’t get to her easily if things go south?” Matt looked as though he were about two seconds from socking Frank in the jaw. Or worse, two seconds from handcuffing you to the apartment so that you wouldn’t leave. 

“No,” you said firmly. “Things won’t go south. Matt, I’m not going to... I don’t know, engage in a fight with them. I’m not a vigilante. I’ll just hide and keep an eye on the docks, then if they show up, I’ll call you.”

“I’ll stay in Chelsea,” Frank said. “I know you get all weird about the Kitchen, Red, so it’s all yours.”

Matt was standing stock still, grinding his teeth. Finally he ground out, “It’s too dangerous.”

“So is driving a car. So is crossing the street. And yet I’ve done both many, many times,” you said. “I’ll be completely fine. Why would dealers have any reason to go after a random passerby, even if they did see me? Which they won’t,” you added hurriedly. “Because I’ll stay safely out of sight.”

“Perfect.” Frank checked his watch. “I ain’t staying here while we twiddle our thumbs and wait for midnight to roll around. Give Y/N my burner number, Red.”

“I’d never have thought you’d do this, Frank,” Matt said, his voice low. “I thought you at least were on my side when it came to keeping people safe who—”

“Who are what?” you said sharply. “I might not have... superpowers, or, I don’t know, a weird bloodthirstiness — sorry again, Mr. Castle — but I can still help.”

“Call me Frank.” Frank leveled his gaze at you. “And cut the apologizing shit.”

“Uh. Okay.” You had to bite your tongue to keep from apologizing again.

And, somehow, you actually ended up on the mission. You took the C train down to Brooklyn Heights after enduring a very long and very dry lecture from Matt on how you were to stay out of sight no matter what and to call him should any boat arrive with men wearing ski masks. 

And, in all honesty, you weren’t nervous. The likelihood of the dealers showing up at your assigned docks was slim. And even if they did, you’d just have to make a quick phone call to both of them, and then camp out. Easy-peasy. 

You settled in on a wooden bench overlooking the piers, wishing you had worn more than your jacket. The temperature had dropped more than expected when the sun had set, and now you shivered slightly, the cold metal of a knife against your thigh. Just in case. 

How exactly you were actually out here, on a real mission, with Matt willingly letting you out of his protection, you weren’t sure. It was exhilarating, though. The city was dark, yet not really; it was aglow with the street lamps and headlights and apartment windows whose blinds hadn’t been closed yet. You scrunched up your legs to conserve body heat and regretted not bringing a blanket, too. And a pillow. That would’ve made the bench slightly less rock hard against your bottom. 

Seriously, how did Matt do this kind of thing every night? Fifteen minutes in and you were already missing the warmth of home. 

You glanced at the skyline. Somewhere, on the other side of those skyscrapers, Matt was waiting as well. Probably he wasn’t curled up on a bench like you were, though. It was more likely that he’d be stalking the rooftops, or pacing in the shadows. 

And then movement caught your eye, at just after 12:30 in the morning. You scrambled to your feet, squinting in the dark. It was a boat, fast approaching the pier just next to you. 

No way. Yeah, you were on lookout, but somehow you’d convinced yourself that the dealers wouldn’t actually show up on your end. You waited to call Frank and Matt, though, because in case it was a different boat, you didn’t want to raise a false alarm. You moved away from your bench and began walking leisurely down the pier, as though you were going for a nighttime stroll. All you needed to do was get a good glimpse of them, then you’d head up the street where you could watch from a safer spot. 

“In, out! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” someone said, a bit loudly, from the deck of the ship. You swiveled your head to see him, and sure enough, he had a ski mask. Swiftly you pulled out your phone and fire off a quick text to both Matt and Frank. You were about to leave the pier altogether when a bark made you stop short. 

....A dog?

“Shut the bitch up!” one of the men snarled. “We get caught, then all the goods get seized.”

“She’s been fucking howling the whole way, what am I supposed to do?”

“Give her a piece of food.”

“What food? You ate the rest of it, man.”

“Can’t believe we’re bringing this dog anyway. Boss already has six bitches. Why does he need another?”

“She’s some special breed, or some shit, I don’t know. Sells for a thousand bucks a pop. Grab that box. Like I said — in, out. We’re already late.”

The dog kept barking, though, and you winced as the man kicked the poor thing in the ribs. Piece of shit. You wanted to go up there and throttle him yourself. If Matt or Frank would just get here already, then you’d be able to relax, but it would still be at least twenty minutes...

And what if the dealers got away in that time frame?

The dog started barking again, and suddenly, without any word of warning, one of the men picked the dog up like a sack of potatoes and threw her overboard. “To hell with the extra cash. That’s how you deal with security problems,” you heard him say as he wiped his hands on his pants. “Get moving, go, go, go! Unload this shit so we can get out of here!”

Below, the dog’s frantic head slipped below the surface.

Oh, hell no. 

Your feet were moving even before you could make an executive decision in your mind. The cold of the evening was forgotten, as were Matt’s strict words to not be seen, no matter what happens, and you dove into the water, where the dog had fell beneath the black waves beside the pier. 

Fortunately, it was summer, and as shockingly cold as the water was, it wasn’t anywhere near deathly cold. You couldn’t see anything, and desperately tried to listen for the dog, but you didn’t have Matt’s ears, and for a moment panic swelled inside you that this dog would drown, and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing. 

And then you saw movement, out of the corner of your eye. The dog was struggling to stay afloat, her snout barely making it out of the water. You grabbed her around the middle and kicked with all your might, coughing on water and unable to see hardly anything except for the blurry outline of the pier. There had to be a ladder somewhere along there, and you groped blindly along the edge, seeking out a grip to pull yourself and the dog up. 

For a moment, you completely forgot about the dealers behind you. All you could think about was getting the dog safely onto land, and with a massive effort you lifted her up. Her paws scrambled against the edge of the pier, but with a good shove to her rump, she was able to get over the edge and dash away into the shadows. 

Good luck out there, doggie. You started to climb the ladder yourself, but froze when you heard the telltale click of a gun being cocked in front of you. Slowly you looked up, your blood running cold at the sight of a gun pointed straight at your forehead. The man holding it had his hair tied back in a bun, and there was a horrible expression on his face that told you he wouldn’t have any qualms about pulling the trigger. 

“Should I shoot, boss?” he asked, his eyes not moving from your face. “Stupid girl’s seen us. She’ll probably run her mouth and tell the cops.”

Your brain felt as though it were short-circuiting. “I swear, I won’t tell a soul. You have my word. Really, I’ll just leave here, and I promise—”

“Do it!” one of the men shouted from the boat. “Get it done so you can get your ass back up here to help. You know how many bodies there are in the Upper Bay? She’ll just be another.”

Your heart was punching the inside of your rib cage. You considered falling backwards to try to swim away, but what good would it do? There was no other way to get back onto land nearby except for this ladder, and you didn’t trust yourself to swim around the boat and across to the next pier without simply getting shot en route. Lunging up the rest of the ladder to fight him was an even worse option. Even if you could fight like Matt (which you could safely say was not the case), you were at a disadvantage; he had the high ground. 

But you didn’t have a choice. The man lunged down and grabbed you by the collar of your jacket, hoisting you up onto the pier. You shivered violently, unsure of whether it was from fear or cold. The man looked you over. “Could hold her for ransom, Tom. That’d bring in some extra cash.”

“No.” The man, who must’ve been Tom, shook his head. “That’s just a surefire way to get attention from the cops. Let’s take her in. We’ll kill her once we’re back on open water and dump her body in the Atlantic. Much cleaner that way.”

The man holding you grunted in agreement and shoved you forward up the ramp to the boat. You obeyed only because of the gun pressed against your temple, feeling like you might vomit any second. 

Where are Matt and Frank? The night was as still as a reflecting pool. It was as though the city itself had gone to sleep, abandoning you to these men, and you had to choke down the rising lump in your throat that was making you feel like you might cry any second or pass out. But tears wouldn’t come, as you were led into a cabin, your mouth promptly duct-taped closed. The sensation made you panic even more — a little air could get through to your nose, but not much, and the sudden feeling of being near to asphyxiation made you even more light-headed. 

The men, however, seemed to forget about you as soon as they tied you to the chair. That they hadn’t killed you immediately was the most relieving of mercies, and you struggled fruitlessly to escape your bonds, feeling supremely useless. Surely Matt would arrive any second; he would hear exactly where you were, you reasoned, and he’d make his way to you as soon as he could. Any minute you’d hear the sound of a baton ricocheting off some unfortunate skulls or the cracking as bones shattered under his fists. 

But instead, it was bullets you heard first. Frank. You gritted your teeth, hearing the shouts of men that were surely being killed without a second thought. Hopping with your feet, you were able to wiggle your chair forward slightly until you could see outside the cabin door. Frank’s silhouette was a menacing shape against the moonlight. 

Where is Matt?

One of the largest men — Tom, you recalled — suddenly came barreling into the room, a gun in his hand. He untied you violently, yanking the rope so roughly against your wrists that you gasped under the tape, and then dragged you forward, the gun against your head. Unceremoniously you were toppled from the chair, your knees slamming down onto hard wood. 

“Drop your gun!” Tom jabbed his gun against your forehead so hard that you saw stars. “Drop it now and put your hands behind your head, or I’ll blow her brains out!”

Through your fuzzy vision you saw Frank freeze. His gaze was cold; calculating, and for the first time you wondered what your value was in Frank’s mind, compared to the triumph of offing some criminals. Which was worth more to him? For a moment, you feared he would prioritize killing the smugglers. His fist clenched even tighter around the gun, and he drew in level breaths, without lowering his gaze for even a second. 

“I swear to God I’m pulling this trigger in ten seconds if you don’t drop it,” Tom said, and he dragged the tip of the gun so that it was placed precisely against your temple. Water was still dripping from your clothing and goosebumps were raised so violently on your skin that you felt like you had chicken pox, but that was nothing compared to the electric adrenaline shooting down your spine, as though your nervous system was screaming at you to do something, anything, but it was to no avail; all you could do was stay on your knees, as still as possible, and keep your head lowered. 

And then, as though he’d made a snap decision, Frank set the gun down.

“Kick it over here,” Tom ordered. 

Frank obeyed, slowly raising his hands to his head. “The gun’s down,” he said. “Now let her go.”

Tom’s grip on you tightened. “You’re a fool,” he said, and suddenly you knew what was about to happen, from the steadying of his hands and the firmer press of the gun against your temple. You wrenched yourself away from him, just as the bullet fired off, and the heat of it barely grazed your shoulder as you dove away. 

The victory was short-lived, though. Tom aimed again, and this time you were on the ground, with nowhere to go. You screwed your eyes shut, sending a silent apology to Matt, and...

The bullet never came. 

Gingerly you opened your eyes to see the devil punching Tom with all his wrath and fury. Frank had already picked up his gun again and was running towards the back of the boat, where you knew there were still a few more crew members. Quickly you crawled backwards to get out of the path of Matt and Tom, the latter of whom was being thrown against the cabin wall. 

That had been close. Way, way too close. You fumbled for the duct tape and ripped it off your mouth, lightheaded from breathing irregularly. Stars formed in front of your vision and you had to slow yourself down, drawing in air and then releasing it slowly. 

Matt was still slamming his fist into the face of Tom, and blood was spurting everywhere. You squinted at them, your heart dropping — far too much blood was spraying out, and Matt was showing no signs of slowing down —

“It’s okay. You’ve got him,” you whispered, the words coming out of your mouth in a rasp. “Matt.”

Matt dropped Tom, who slid to the ground, unconscious. Using the edge of the boat to support yourself, you stood up slowly, and limped over to Matt; your knees were still aching from earlier. Gently you reached towards his shoulders. “I can call 911.”

“He deserves to die.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” you said. Matt was in a dangerous anger, you could tell; one wrong move and he’d do something he’d regret for the rest of his life. Choosing the right words now was imperative. “A judge will decide that.”

“He tried to kill you,” Matt snapped, whirling around and knocking your arm off his shoulder. “If he had — if he’d succeeded—”

“But he didn’t.”

“Does that matter?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Frank got there first. “Cool down, Red,” he said, as nonchalantly as though you were all at dinner together. “Your girl’s safe. We got the drugs before they could get shipped.”

“Don’t talk to me like I need to be calmed down,” Matt said, his voice hardly more than a snarl. 

Frank stared at Matt for a few moments. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “To answer your question. It does matter that he tried killing her.” Then, without warning, he shot Tom, square in the forehead. You yelped, looking away from the bloody hole where his head was now caved in. His features were unrecognizable, and hollow in death, and yet you couldn’t help looking back at him, his eyes meeting yours as though he still were alive. 

“Get her out of here. Warm her up,” Frank said, nodding at you. “I’ve got other business to do this evening.”

“Other business?” you asked, but Matt was reaching for you, skating his hands over your body. 

“Sorry,” you said lamely, shaking slightly from the adrenaline. “I sort of disobeyed the only rule.”

“You could have died.”

“But there was a dog, and I had to save it — they tossed the poor thing overboard. I couldn’t just sit by.”

And, to your surprise, Matt’s lips cracked into a small smile. Though you couldn’t see his eyes under the mask, you could feel his warmth. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”

Frank was gone already. Together, you and Matt exited the boat, and it took all of your willpower to not look back at the corpse. 

“So,” you said, taking Matt’s hand as you walked down the dark street together. The feeling of the duct tape was lingering on your mouth, and the way that you had been tied up — the gun against your head — and it was making your heart race. Even though Matt would see right through you (hear right through you?), you adopted a casual tone. “How was my audition? Can I officially be the Assistant Daredevil?”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I’m not deflecting. I’m just wondering if I passed some sort of test, and if you’ll let me join you now—”

“Sweetheart.” Matt stopped short and pulled you into the shadows between buildings. “You’re not fooling me.”

“I’m not trying to fool you.” Your mouth was dry. 

“That was intense. You don’t have to pretend it wasn’t. You could’ve died.” Matt’s voice shook a bit, and you were reminded that as terrifying as it was for you, it had probably been even worse for Matt. Because if you had died, and it was technically on his watch... yeah. That wouldn’t have gone over well. 

You cupped his face, and he leaned into it slightly. “Okay. I’m a bit freaked out. But I’m okay.”

“Who’s reassuring who, now?” he said after a moment, and that warm, small smile returned. He pulled you in closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly enough that you had to draw in a short breath. 

“Maybe...” Your voice came out in a whisper. “Maybe we both need it tonight.” 

A/N: Sorry for the slightly rushed ending but this was beginning to expand a bit too much and I didn’t want it to feel like it should have multiple chapters. Honestly, I wasn’t happy with this piece so it’s been sitting in my drafts for about a year now, but it’s been awhile since I posted a one shot, so... here we are.

Hope you all had a great day, thanks so much for reading! 

-Elle

[maidflowery]

Pinky Promise

Jiaoqiu x Reader

You have a bad day and Jiaoqiu is there for you. But unbeknownst to you...

An extremely shitty day.

That was the only way to describe it.

Where absolutely nothing went right. When you thought it couldn't get worse, but it did.

But at least now by leaning against the table, faceplanting it, you could forget your anger, sorrow, frustration, even if just a moment.

How you wish you could just disappear.

Just then, you heard the door opening gently.

"You forgot to lock the front door again."

A smooth, silvery voice rang.

You didn't bother to look up. You already knew who that was. Besides, he had sent you a chat informing his visit beforehand.

Just then, you caught a whiff of a sweet-smelling fragrance...

...Chocolate?

You peeked through the gap in your arms.

True enough, the pink Foxian stood there, with a porcelain cup in his hand. He was your neighbor.

You found him buried in the snow, injured, but that was a story for another time. After you saved him, he moved in next door, and even gave you his key.

Ever since you learned how much of a good cook he was, you'd pester him to cook for you. As such, you didn't really mind that he invited himself into your room.

Jiaoqiu was smiling, but when he noticed your gaze, he leaned in slightly.

"Well, despite my advice, it seems that someone went ahead and pulled an all-nighter anyway."

His kind tone bore soft admonishment.

Your puffy red eyes must've been a dead giveaway. Yeah, you weren't only sad, but tired.

Under normal circumstances, you'd have countered it with, 'Whachu gonna do about it, Doc? Feed me chillies?'

By the way, he was actually a doctor. He'd often give you health advice, which sometimes went ignored.

"...There was an important presentation today." You could only muster a weak reply.

"You've mentioned. How did it go?"

"...Well, I-I did my best, but..."

"Well done."

"...But I messed up. I couldn't answer the professor's questions, and he threatened to fail me. I'll have to make up for it by doing a bunch of assignments later..."

Even though some passed it for so much less. All that effort, down the drain because the professor felt like giving you hell today. But it is what it is.

"...Well done."

Was it just your feeling, or did his voice sound softer...?

And no, it wasn't sarcasm. You knew he was far too kind for that.

You finally looked up.

"!"

Jiaoqiu's gentle smile was unchanging as always, without a shred of disappointment.

"I'm sorry to hear about the unsatisfactory result. But I know how hard you worked for it. So, well done."

The smile of someone who never stopped believing you.

Suddenly, something hot trickled down your cheek. Realizing what it was, you immediately buried your face in your arms.

"W-what about you? You never told me why you were visiting!"

"I tried my hands at making something."

Clink.

You could hear the sound of a cup being placed down on the table, right in front of you.

"This is..."

Almost immediately, you were tantalized by the rich, sweet fragrance of cocoa, mixed with the bitterness of coffee.

"Ah, the cafe that had a wonderful Creamy Coco Frappuccino shut down... How I wish I can taste it again..."

Once, you had said that in front of him in passing.

Jiaoqiu's culinary expertise was Chinese cuisine, and more often than not, traditional. Most of the time, he didn't recognize the modern and trendy dishes you mentioned. For example, cafes and their stylists drink.

But ever since that day, you found new recipe books strewn around his place. Rather than messy, it just seemed as if someone was trying to pinpoint a certain recipe, no matter how long it took.

Afterward, he'd cook the dishes you mentioned, one after another.

Sometimes, you didn't even remember bringing them up.

Yet, he remembered, kept your words in his heart, and wholeheartedly cooked them for you, one by one.

"I'm experimenting with something."

"I cooked too much. Why don't you have some?"

"I tried my hands at this."

Every time, he'd say such things, probably to not make you feel bad.

This drink was also one of them. The rim of the cup was even coated with hardened chocolate, and sprinkled with rock sugars, like in those cafes.

"Why don't you give it a try?" Jiaoqiu urged you.

Without further ado, you took a sip of the drink.

Creamy rich chocolate, bittersweet coffee, and milky caramel flowed into your mouth, pampering your taste buds. Gradually, your broken heart was being mended.

You placed the half-empty cup down, silently staring at the swirling liquid.

"How is it?" He asked with a hint of anticipation.

"...Jiaoqiu, marry me."

"...!!"

Overflowing with gratitude, happiness, and warmth, those words just spilled out.

Your eyes were getting heavier for some reason.

...Right, you didn't sleep at all last night, re-reading the materials and all.

I'm so sleepy...

As your consciousness faded, you saw Jiaoqiu reaching out toward you.

"Promise me, then."

He presented you his pinky finger.

Under the dazzling sunlight, his pink hair fluttered, reminiscent of fallen cherry blossoms. He gave you a smile just as bright, if not brighter than the sun.

So, how could you resist?

Before you fell asleep, you remembered hooking fingers with him.

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧ ₊˚・

Jiaoqiu carried the sleeping girl to her room, before tucking her in.

Then, he peered into her face.

"...Jiaoqiu, marry me."

Even as he recalled it, his heart skipped a beat. It was a rare physical phenomenon for him, probably once in a lifetime. Jiaoqiu only recalled experiencing it twice. Just now, and when she nursed him to health back then.

"...Whether you spoke without thinking, sleep talked, or just joked, you've made a promise."

Golden eyes shimmered under the shadow.

"If you go back on your words, I'll chase you until the end of earth."

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧ ₊˚・

Extra

After that, with the support, afternoon snacks, and midnight snacks of Jiaoqiu, you managed to finish all the assignments, and passed the class.

But somehow, the professor who ripped you to shreds suffered from severe diarrhea and had to take sick leave for a month.

All's well that ends well?

Sequel:

Good Night, Sweet Dream

[afteraftercare]

BEHIND THE BOOKSHELVES

librarian!billie x student!oc

Authors note: i decided to split this into two parts because i’ve been so busy and can’t write the second part to save my life. i promise y’all it’ll be out before monday trustttt. anyways this look ass but whatever smh

Warnings: not proof read

clara was extremely obsessed with reading. it was absolutely hands down her favorite hobby ever. if she was bored, she’d read. sad? read. stressed out? read. 

something about escaping her reality through these stories made her feel something. so when she went to her new college in LA she immediately caught the librarians eye. 

billie had only been working at the school for two years now but wouldn’t be able to tell you one students name off the top of her head. that was before clara came along.

clara would come into the library everyday, sometimes even multiple times. clara was also really recognizable. while most college students would walk around campus in big baggy shirts and grey sweats, clara really made a statement. 

each day she would get dressed up in the cutest sweaters and short mini skirts with her same pair of doc martens. she looked like she belonged in the library.

billie genuinely never payed attention to anyone who came and went. no one ever cared to talk to billie, even ask for help finding a book. people would just come in and get her to scan their novels and walk out without saying a word. not clara though. 

“hi, sorry can you help me?” the girl asked. billie looked up from her desk. immediately locking eyes with the girl. billie furrowed her eyebrows, no one ever talked to her. “yeah of course.” billie replied with a smile on her face. “uhm i’m new here, a freshman actually, and i was wondering if you could help me find the romance section?” clara asked politely. 

her brown honey eyes only had innocence in them. she batted her eyelashes at billie like a little puppy. billie smiled and got up from her chair. “yeah, it’s right over here.” she began to guide her. 

clara followed behind. her skirt swaying back and forth as she walked. “its kind of hidden in the back for some reason. the people who made the layout in here must of been some bitter person since it’s so hidden. no one even comes back here most of the time because nobody even knows it exist.” billie explains with a chuckle. “wow really?” clara asked, interest filling her tone. billie looked back at here. “yeah.. well.. here you go. if you ever need anything let me know.” billie reminded her. clara flashed her one last smile and went to serching. she definitely kept the words if you ever need anything let me know in mind. 

almost everyday she would come into the library and ask billie a question. any other time billie would probably have gotten aggravated. but with clara she never minded. 

clara came in today. immediately greeting billie with a heart warming smile. that smile lighting up billie’s entire day. “hi bils!” clara spoke. the nickname immediately making billie’s face go red. she loved how friendly clara was. its like they had know each other their whole lives. clara went back on to the romance section leaving billie back at her desk alone. 

clara soon came over with a book in her hand. she rested her arms on billie’s desk, sliding the book to her. “hey billie can you tell me what this book is about? the description is pretty vague…” clara asked. billie happily obliged. 

billie was also a huge reader herself so most of the time if someone brought up a book she knew it. 

she took the book and read the cover. she immediately knew what book this was. “its kind of a generic enemies to lovers book. its a lesbian book too, if you know, your into that. its basically just a story where these two girls are forced to be camp counselors together who hate each other but then fall in love.” billie explains. clara nods. “sounds good enough.” billie took the book and scanned it. “i’ll see you again tomorrow bils.” clara said. a little seduction in her tone. it made billie shiver a little. 

clara knew what she was doing. she was extremely interested in billie. everything about her made her feel all kind of things. the way she dressed, like, a librarian but way hotter. the way billie’s glasses fit on her and made her already pretty blue eyes even more pretty. how billie would help her. something about it just made her want her more. so everything clara was doing she was very much aware of.

clara came in the next day. she wore a button down top that fit her in all the right places. her cleavage on full display. she also wore one of those cute little mini skirts that basically had her ass on display. she walked in the library confidently. her little sex mafia book in hand. she immediately made eyes with billie. her iconic smile flashing to billie, and billie flashing it back. 

clara began to walk up to her desk. “hi billieee.” clara said, dragging the e out. “there’s my favorite girl.” billie said while closing her book. the words my favorite girl lighting clara’s face up. clara sat her previous book on the counter and began to walk back to the romance section. 

clara looked through the books until she found something that caught her eye. the description got straight to the point. explaining how sexual the book was. it was a book about a mafia boss and his wife. the book was extremely explicit. a smirk creeping across clara’s face.

clara walked over with the book in her hand. she rested her arms on billie’s desk, her boobs basically on full display for the older girl. sliding the book to her, she said, “hey billie can you tell me if this book is good or not?” clara asked.

billie nodded, taking the book from her. she looked at the cover and immediately knew what it was. her cheeks flushed red. 

“its uhm, its basically this book about some mafia boss and his wife who go on these mission. the plots pretty boring if you ask me. it’s mainly just lots and lots of sex. while reading it i tended to got distracted on whatever was actually going on because the sex was so much.” billie explained. an evil grin began to plaster across clara’s face. a face that billie had never seen on her before. 

“perfect.” is all she said. billie’s eyebrows furrowed. clara didn’t look like the type of person to be interested in a book like this. but billie pushed away her questions and scanned the book for her. “thank you.” clara said. a little seduction in her tone. it made billie shiver a little. 

clara went back to her door. she wasn’t actually interested in the book if she was being honest. this was all part of her plan. 

she waiting till it was late at night. she was in her skimpy victoria secret pajamas. the same pajamas that you could see her nipples through. it was currently 8:50. ten minutes before the library closed. she wanted to give billie one more visit. 

she began to walk back down to the library. her book in hand. she walked in and the room was completely empty. billie couldn’t even been seen in sight. a confused expression filled clara’s face. she began to look around the room. she got onto the fiction section when she saw billie. her back was facing clara’s. she was putting up some books. clara walked up behind her and tapped her shoulder. billie swung around. a terrified look on her face. billie immediately grabbed her chest.

“holy shit clara, shit, you scared me oh my god.” she said while trying to calm her down. all clara could do is smile at her. “i’m sorry.. i didn’t mean to startle you..” billie sighed. “its uhm, its fine. w-what are you doing here so late?” billie asked. 

clara took her book from behind her back. “my book… its too boring.” she explained. billie chuckled. “yeah i told you..” clara cut her off. “no. not boring like you said. it was too.. soft for me. too vanilla. could you help me find a more interesting one bils?” clara asked her. she made that same innocent look. only this time billie knew she was faking. billie was utterly confused as to what was going on but she decided to play along. “uh, sure i guess..” billie began to lead her back to the romance section again. 

as they went to the back they both started looking at books together. that’s when clara pulled out one. one she had already read, but billie didn’t have to know that. “can you tell me what this one is about?” clara asked. billie took the book from her hands. billie hadn’t read this one yet. 

she turned the book around and looked at the description. “uhh it says it’s about a teacher and student affair.” billie says. clara began to get closer to billie. “well isn’t that interesting?” clara’s said tilting her head. billie began to get hot. “uhm, yeah i guess so..” billie couldn’t hold eye contact. “doesn’t the thought of doing something with someone you shouldn’t be just turn you on? i mean come on, anyone would agree with that, right?” clara asked. lust filled her voice. the way she delivered that sentence gave billie goosebumps. clara began to get closer to billie. their chest touching. billie could feel clara’s hard nipples. billie gulped. 

clara chuckled. “bils you look hot.. you should take your jacket off. your face is getting red to..” clara said with a mocking tone. billie didn’t know what was happening at this point. her head was mush. she couldn’t think properly. “clara, stop.” billie demanded. clara looked at her confused. “stop what? am i not allowed to be concerned for you bils?” clara asked, this time running her fingers on billie’s arms. billie couldn’t take this anymore. 

billie took clara by the arms and pinned her against the book shelf. a little gasp escaping clara’s mouth. “what are you trying to get out of this, hm? prancing around here like a little slut.” billie spoke. her voice was rough. clara wasn’t expecting this whatsoever but she was complaining. billie began to rap her fingers around clara’s neck. “so tell me. what is it that you want?” this was a completely new tone for clara. if she thought she was hot before, this completely changed everything. 

“please, billie. i need you.” clara spoke out pathetically. thats all billie needed in order to flip clara over.

TAGLIST (dm,inbox,or comment to be added!) : @muchloveforhacker @chrissv4mp @mseilishmwah @chrissfawn @dev-sturns @kise-mo @devynscomet

[olderthannetfic]

I accidentally killed my own desire to write, and I need some advice. To be really blunt about it, what's the point of writing? When I would spend lots of time laboring over making a good story with a plot and characters who were in-character and connecting all the dots narratively so payoffs were satisfying, my reward was dead silence and virtually no clicks. I posted some mindless smut to my side account one day and got more hits in a day than most of my other works combined got in a year. I know, I know. "Write for ~*~yourself~*~" is the common response. It's the "be yourself!" of writing. It's supposed to be a magical phrase that'll make everything okay. But... I don't like knowing that something I spend months working on won't be read by anyone while something I write in a car while bored got thousands of clicks. I don't like making something I'm proud of and then no one ever looks at it. That's not fun for me. It's not fulfilling.

For a solid decade, I've tried to ignore how the level of interactivity in fandom is falling. Fewer comments. Fewer kudos. No comments in the bookmarks. You put your tumblr and Discord in the AN and get a handful of asks and one person who adds you, talks to you twice and then ghosts you. Most of the comments are "well, actuallys", made even more annoying by them being wrong as opposed to actually correcting an error. I avoid fandom drama, wank, and infighting. I don't engage with things I know will make me unhappy. I try to be happy over in my own little corner. I comment on every single work I read. I want people to enjoy fandom. I used to.

Some dumb smut I wrote in 40 minutes gets five times the hits of the writing I'm most proud of, and it gets it in just under three months. I am not a great smut writer. I haven't stumbled onto an incredible talent I had that makes it so the issue is that I'm so amazing my smut brings all the boys to the yard. People just don't like what I write and put effort into. It's very likely that despite 20 years of writing fic, I suck at writing. And people enjoy my writing most when they don't have to put up with anything substantial and can just skip to the sex.

So for the last eight months, when I write, I just sort of give up. Close the Word doc without saving. No one will read this. No one cares about this. There is no fan eagerly awaiting every update like I await updates from my favorite authors. There's not even someone saying, "update soon!" Close the Word doc. Delete old WIPs. There's no point. I do not tell stories worth reading. I used to. In the FFN days people genuinely enjoyed my work. I'd never have had an opportunity to do the 'I won't update until I get 3 reviews' thing because getting that many on a chapter was usually something I'd do overnight. Post before bed. Wake up. Read the reviews before school. I peaked in high school, I guess.

And now I'm just sort of lost. I still have lots of ideas. Ideas for fics fall into my head all the time. That's never been a problem. What I don't have is any motivation to write them. What's the point of writing? If no one else is reading, I guess the point would be so I could go back and read my own story and have fun with it. Write for myself. But I can review the story and have fun with it in my head without writing it down. It's substantially faster and more importantly, isn't incredibly depressing.

So, at the risk of definitely being calld the second-coming of True Art Anon or a troll or validation-seeking or haha mentally ill haha... what's the point of writing?

--

Okay, so write porn in a car while you're bored.

Look, you can whine all you want about my response, but what you've written here is blatantly about depression.

Lots of people in fandom are still interacting. And no, it isn't just on fics that are objectively written to some pro fiction standard or whatever. Teenagers still breathlessly review poorly spelled cracky masterpieces about this year's big anime and so forth.

Yes, there may be reasons why you in particular are in a slump when it comes to fandom friendships or "plz update" comments. We can talk about that. But this ask is all gloom about fandom in general. That's not realism: that's you having a problem.

--

As for why a person should write: because the actual hours you spend doing the writing are fun.

If they aren't pleasurable in some way, find another hobby.

--

But if you want an answer to the age old "Why did my 5 minute fic get 1000000x more asspats", I've seen meta about this for literally decades.

The most likely reason is that the fic we write quickly and without much thought often feels fresher and more fun. The things we labor over endlessly can feel overworked. Even in cases where they don't, they're often heavier subject matter or more niche subject matter. On top of all that, we just care more, so even a high level of feedback doesn't really feel like enough for the effort and care we put in.

--

Do you really need me to tell you why you don't feel the same as in high school when things were fresh and new?

Go read up on combatting burnout or dealing with post-college anxiety or managing stress in a dead-end job in your 30s or finding meaning in your 40s or whatever is going on.

Everyone goes through fallow periods in fandom and in life.

Feeling reinvigorated has to do with internal factors and some general life circumstance stuff. It doesn't have that much to do with number of kudos. That's just the surface trigger for a mood that was already there.

[xlillyle]

Why in my humble opinion the episode brings the Mersault arc to a satisfying end regarding Fyodor, Dazai, Chuuya and the message it has

So, there's a lot of energy buzzing around in the fandom with the latest episode and I felt like some things have not been pointed out enough, therefore I'm gonna share my thoughts on the parts of Mersault. This is a thread that focuses on the conclusion of the Mersault arc as presented in the most recent episode of the anime in season 5 and I will elaborate on what I think the message of the Mersault arc is, what Fyodor's role in this arc is, I will comment on why I think he was defeated and why it fits the message and I will also go into more detail of how Chuuya and Dazai play into all of this and what I think happened in Mersault.

I'd like to start with these panels from the manga, chapter 77:

Together with this one from chapter 105:

I think these panels convey the core message of the Mersault arc very well and its goal: Everyone is just human, no matter how smart. And humans are capable of amazing things and even moreso if they come together. This is the greatest difference between Fyodor and Dazai who have been countless of times painted and stated as each other's equals - yes, they are intellectually of a level most can only dream of, only rivaled by Ranpo, but unlike Fyodor, Dazai has learnt to trust humans and understands their bonds to each other.

Fyodor doesn't.

It's a message that is heavily implied and then outright stated by Dazai in the last episode:

The reason why Fyodor fails is that he doesn't trust in people and because he doesn't understand humans in that regard - he thinks that he is above this concept, thinks he can manipulate them and that they're just pawns. It's shown in the way he talks about Sigma, it's shown in the fact that he chose to use Chuuya who is Dazai's partner against Dazai to dangle him in front of Dazai and it's shown when he mocks Dazai for not being "able" to use a "gravity manipulator" and drops the famous line of them having a "shallow bond".

Fyodor is arrogant and very confident in his own abilities, including the one to control those around him. That's what makes him slacking though, he can't comprehend that a plan that relies on a bond and trust would be able to deceive and defeat him and the closer he gets to his goal, the less he cares. That's why he allows Dazai this last speech in 109 too, he doesn't think anything can defeat him. Dazai is at his wit's end, Fyodor is the winner. There's no way that Dazai has a backup plan, Fyodor is a genius and he already thought of everything that could possibly be, so there's no way, right?

Mersault always was about showing what humans are capable of and what they can achieve and that trusting in your allies, in your bonds with the people you love, makes you more capable and achieve higher goals. And it's exactly what happened.

Dazai states that he doesn't have control over all things, that he had a lot of uncertain cards. But he trusted in his allies and it pays off. He wins not because he has it all figured out from the start and a backup plan for the backup plan of the backup plan, he did his part of the plan and adjusted to the scene and left the rest in full trust with his allies.

This pilot stabbing Fyodor worked because Dazai trusted in the agency and Ranpo and them taking over control the vampires in time. And the rest of the Mersault story before all this?

That brings me to my next point, actually. We learn in the episode that it was all a SKK scheme:

Now, some people were unsatisfied that a plan that simple couldn't fool Fyodor, but I think that is exactly the point of it. Chuuya is a great actor (in Stormbringer he fools with grief and shock Albatross in thinking he saved the in two halves separated Doc for example) and the simplicity of this plan is what makes it so good against Fyodor - why would he assume that the great Dazai, his intellectual equal, another genius, would go through with such a plan?

And it's even better because it isn't actually Dazai's! Now, I have seen a lot of people talking about this and I admit that I assumed the opposite originally as well, that this was all Dazai's scheme, but thanks to a moot I took a closer look on the storytelling and I realized something:

Dazai describes here the moment he realized that Chuuya is on his side in my opinion. This wasn't a "Dazai orchestrated the whole thing and sent Chuuya a text to haul his ass over to Mersault" because it doesn't fit with the storyline. Especially the speech in chapter 101 stands out here - a lot of people are making jokes about how weird and gay of a plan the speech is, but I actually think, based on the situation and the voice acting from Mamoru Miyano, that this goodbye speech is a genuine one.

The speech in 101 seems very genuine down to the point of his fake goodbye in the end, meanwhile the tone of a similar speech in 109 has completely shifted.

And what happened between 101 and 109? Exactly. The elevator.

So, what I'm thinking is this: Dazai saw that Fyodor had Chuuya under control and he knows his partner, he can't quite believe that Chuuya would get himself captured, it's gotta be a plan, right? Soukoku isn't actually the brains-and-brawn duo even though everyone thinks that, but Dazai knows how capable and smart Chuuya is. He hid Arahabaki from him and figured out Rimbaud after all.

But still, there is this bit of doubt nurtured by fear - he trusts Chuuya, but what if this isn't his Chuuya? So his goodbye speech is both:

An attempt to snap Chuuya out of it, an attempt to communicate with him, the hope that carries him because this is his partner, right? Stupid Chuuya that always fights and always clings to life and knows to appreciate it a lot more than Dazai.

But also a genuine goodbye, just... in case. Because he could never forgive himself if he doesn't say goodbye to Chuuya, JUST IN CASE. He trusts and believes in Chuuya, but he can't not say goodbye to him, just in case that Fyodor really got Chuuya.

And then the elevator scene happens and Dazai realizes: He only has one way of surviving, but he will not drag Sigma into this, not if he can help it. And he made a promise to him, after all. So, Dazai pushes Sigma out, makes sure that Sigma is alive like he promised. Then he keeps falling.

The only one that can save him now is Chuuya and Dazai decides to trust him. If this is his Chuuya, Chuuya will save him. Because that is what they do: Soukoku come to each other's call, they trust each other with their life and in return get that life saved by the other.

And if this isn't his Chuuya? Well, then Dazai died for the sake of the agency and he probably thinks that this is a good way to die, too.

But he doesn't die. He gets saved by Chuuya of course, how could he have ever considered something else? Chuuya came to his help and he has a plan. So, now all Dazai has to do is play along, just like in old times.

I wanna talk about this specific part of 109 too - I saw people arguing that the fact that Chuuya has been acting all the time made the scenes less impactful for the plot or their bond, but I actually would argue the opposite. Like I just laid out, in my opinion he only learnt just before this that Chuuya is on his side. That means, they don't have an actual plan that they discussed before, but they're good, they're Soukoku - we have seen in Dead Apple during the Dragonhead's Conflict and in the Dragon fight 6 years later what they are capable of without much communication.

But this is not only a way to show off their flawless communication and synchronization again, it also shows us something that we always knew but that is now plainly laid out: Dazai trusts Chuuya with his life. He trusts Chuuya to shoot, but not kill him.

Truly, you could say:

"The core characterization of Dazai and Chuuya's partnership is based on pure trust where both of them are capable of leaving each other's life on the other's hand without a second thought or doubt." - from the Dead Apple guide book

Chuuya acting from the very beginning as vampire and Dazai finding out along with a leap of faith and them proving once again the close bond they share is exactly the way this arc was supposed to go and the fact that it was predictable in that sense doesn't make it bad writing. In contrary. Asagiri set up and delivered the message of the arc extremely well, the arc had a clear red string following through all of it.

And this is why, in my opinion, this arc was actually written very well and why Fyodor's defeat is actually a good break for his character arc (because I don't believe he is dead, but this here is already way too long and many others have pointed plenty why he probably isn't dead) and why I really like the message of the Mersault arc.

[celestialglow24]

•••Promise Me•••

Frank Castle x AFAB reader

You finally see Frank again after months of being apart with no explanation.

hi friends. more Frank angst because this man has taken over my mind lately and i think you all should suffer with me. please enjoy xx

The walk back home from the restaurant wasn’t too bad of a trek. You had convinced yourself it’d be alot faster than waiting around for an uber, or bothering your cousin at 12 am to come down there and pick you up.

Was it wise? Probably not. But the multiple shots of liquid courage—fueled with the desire to take a long hot shower—gave you a sense of confidence no one would have been able to shake.

So you said your goodbyes to the group you were with, telling them a little white lie that your ride was here, and began walking home.

As the loud street music and bustling noise of downtown nightlife started to fade, that confidence began to wane.

It was really quiet out here, and no one was around from what you could tell. You could see the sign for a park a little ways ahead and that managed to level your nerves.

Your cousin’s apartment wasn’t too far from there and if you kept at the pace you were moving, you could get there in 10 minutes or so.

God you hated wearing heels. You’d yet to find a pair that didn’t make you want to cut off your feet and curse the ground after only a couple of hours of use.

There was a part of you that was half tempted to take them off and walk the rest of the way barefoot, but after already passing several broken bottles along the street, you decided you didn’t want to chance a night in the ER.

All things considered you were proud of yourself for going out tonight. It had been months since you’d done anything besides: work, sleep, eat, repeat.

Save for a few weekends now and then of binge watching a true crime doc with your cousin Lucy or a trip to the dog park with her dog Penny, you hardly allowed yourself any time to relax.

Anything to avoid your mind having the opportunity to think of him. To think of your past.

So when your coworker invited you out with people from your department to celebrate their recent promotion, you decided to let yourself enjoy a night out. You felt you had earned it.

You hadn’t been working for the company very long, but you got along with everyone pretty well. It was nice of them to include you.

It was certainly more fun than you expected to have but after your brain had tried multiple times to convince you that you’d seen someone that wasn’t there—someone who you hadn’t seen in months—you knew it was time to go.

6 months.

6 months and you still searched for him in a room full of people.

It was pathetic.

Even now, as you walked the nearly empty streets you felt him. You didn’t know how— and despite logic and reason battling with these inexplicable feelings— it still felt like you could sense his presence.

Yeah, this had to be the alcohol talking.

You tightened your trenchcoat around your torso in an effort to self soothe and offered a half smile to the few people you walked by on your way toward the park.

As you rounded the sidewalk, you pulled your phone out to text your cousin that you’d be home any minute. She was probably already sleeping but you wanted to give her the heads up anyway.

Anything to avoid her attacking you with a broom like she did the one time you got home late from work.

Just as you went to tuck your phone back in your coat pocket it slipped out of your hand, landing on the ground face down with a loud crack.

“Fuck” you cried, bending down to asses the damage. Thankfully you had a screen protector, so the actual screen was fine. But man you had done a number on it. The uneven cracks that splintered the screen made it difficult to read the time and notifications.

As you rose from your squatting position, you caught a figure out of the corner of your eye ducking behind a car across the street.

You felt your stomach drop.

Slowly… you stood up taller, squaring your shoulders and trying to steady your breathing. You calmly reached for the front clasp of your clutch, thanking any god or the universe that you managed to stow your taser earlier that night.

You chose not to make any sudden movements. Instead you waited. You waited for so long you were starting to question if you had seen anything at all. Maybe you misunderstood and it was the alcohol messing with your senses.

But when you saw the tip of a black hoodie through the window of the car you knew you weren’t losing it.

“Who’s there?” you shouted.

No response.

“Listen,” your voice shook, “I’m about 10 seconds away from dialing 911 so if you’re not interested in explaining to the cops why you’re sneaking up on -”

“Ain’t no need for all that.” You heard a voice call back.

Your breath stilled. As soon as the voice hit you, it was like the ground beneath you had been ripped away. You didn’t even feel like you were in your own body anymore.

You dug your nails into your palm, trying to startle yourself awake. Surely you had to be dreaming.

But when the figure stood and faced you, their hood falling back to reveal their face, you couldn’t deny what you were seeing.

There were so many emotions swelling inside you at once. Disbelief, disappointment, anger and relief.

You didn’t know it was possible to feel so many things at once.

Perhaps the most compelling was the realization that despite everything, you still felt love. So much love that it made you feel weak.

It almost made you forget everything that’s happened.

The feelings of abandonment. The nights of endless tears. The calls and messages that would never seem to go through.

Feelings of confusion. Of constantly wondering what you did wrong.

Questioning if any of it was ever as real to him as it was to you.

You could almost forget it all. Run right across the street into his arms. Hug him and kiss him over and over. Tell him how much you missed him. How much you need him. How much you forgive him if you could just be together again.

But as quickly as those thoughts teased your mind, the feelings of anger and betrayal enveloped you like an unrelenting wave.

You couldn’t allow the love you felt to erase the hell you’ve endured. You wouldn’t.

So you swallowed the tears that threatened to spill and turned away, making bigger strides to get back to your cousin’s apartment.

You could hear him shout your name but you kept moving.

He must have crossed the street because you could hear him calling directly behind you.

You didn’t stop. You didn’t say a word. You just kept moving.

Choosing to run was just plain stupid, but it was your only resort to get away fast.

Not only was it stupid because your feet hurt like hell and you were risking a face plant any second, but it was stupid because he was the fucking punisher.

Any attempt to try and outrun him was pointless. He’d be able to catch you before you could even finish your next thought.

“Hey!” he yelled, finally catching up to you and grabbing your arm. “Just hold up would you?”

“No!” you shouted, yanking yourself out of his grasp. You took a few steps backward and he held his arms up in defense.

At this point you know you looked like a mess. The hot tears you were trying to suppress had spilled over and you could taste the salt of them on your tongue.

You wanted to hate him. You wanted to hate him so much but seeing the pained look on his face broke your heart.

To be honest he looked like shit. He looked like a man who hadn’t slept in months. His beard was long and unkempt. It even looked like he’d lost weight. And his eyes, the biggest tell of all, were sad and empty.

“I just want to talk.” he spoke calmly.

You shook your head. “How did you find me?”

When you left the witness protection program you didn’t even tell Madani where you were going. She tried to pry it out of you, swearing that it was her duty as her job and as a friend to know. However, you wouldn’t budge.

The people that were after Frank had been taken care of according to Dinah. You didn’t want to continue living out the rest of your life looking over your shoulder.

So you thanked her for all of her help and you wished her the best, but you didn’t want any ties to your life back then. You didn’t want any more reminders of him.

“He asks about you, you know?” she had said during your last conversation. “Every week like clockwork. I haven’t told him anything. Just that you’re safe and happy.”

You scoffed, “Well at least one of those is true.”

She was silent for a moment. “I hope you can give yourself a chance to be happy again. Love doesn’t always look the way we want it to and life is hardly ever fair, but once we choose to accept the pieces we are given…. we can allow ourselves to move on.”

You know Dinah meant well. And you appreciated how close the two of you had gotten based on the circumstances. But you weren’t sure if you could agree with what she was suggesting. It felt impossible to move on when your whole body still ached for him.

“Thank you Dinah.” you relented, “Who knew you could be so therapeutic?”

“Just part of the charm.” she laughed.

A comfortable silence fell between you. You were sitting on the balcony of your cousin’s apartment, and for a brief second you felt a little bit of excitement at the opportunity to start over.

Your cousin had managed to get you a job and while it wasn’t exactly what you were doing before, it was familiar work.

You’d be working for a publishing company polishing and approving manuscripts. It was boring, monotonous work but it was safe.

You thanked Madani again and expressed the hope of following up again someday in the future.

Then you changed your number and disabled your emails.

You knew doing so wouldn’t stop them from being able to find you if they really wanted to. Her and Frank were both good for that. But it gave you a sense of control for now. That you were the one deciding to distance yourself this time and the choice wasn’t being made for you.

“Could we go some place to talk?”, his voice broke you out of the memory.

You crossed your arms.

“No. You don’t get to show up out of nowhere after months of silence expecting to just talk. I have nothing to say to you.”

The words that tumbled out of your mouth were meant to be delivered with strength and conviction. Instead, they sounded more like someone trying to convince themselves that they believed them.

“I can explain whatever you want. Just let’s get out of the cold here, there’s a diner not too far out.” he said, tilting his head back towards where you came from. “We could get a cup of co-”

“No, Frank, I want to stay right here.”

He closed his mouth, but you could tell he was trying to keep his composure. You were being stubborn and as much as you hated being in the cold, you didn't want to be around other people.

You didn’t want to take the chance of losing your shit while people were trying to enjoy their food in peace.

“I get that you’re angry, but there’s a lot you don’t understand. I was just trying to protect you.” he tried to reason.

“You left me Frank. You didn’t text, you didn’t call. You left me completely in the dark.” you cried, wiping angrily at your face to rid the tears that were escaping.

“Do you know how scared I was? Having strangers show up to my house and basically tell me I couldn’t exist as me anymore? I had to move and change my name. And the one person I needed more than anything—the one person who could make all of it feel okay— wouldn't even answer a damn phone call.”

You suddenly felt like you were back in the empty apartment Madani had set you up in. You hardly knew her before that day, she was just “someone who had worked with Frank before”, according to what she told you.

But she kept giving you this look. This look that both expressed the pity she felt for you and the wonder of how you ended up in a situation like this? How you managed to get mixed up in the world of Frank Castle?

But you had met him after he had left that life behind him. And according to him, the life that he was never going back to. Things had been good for so long that you never even questioned it until that day. Now you didn’t even know what was real.

“You were in danger alright? I had angered some really powerful people. I had hurt them, did things I’m not proud of and I wasn’t about to let you take the fall for it. You weren’t safe with me.”

“I was always safe with you!” you shouted, “Who else could’ve kept me more safe than you? We could’ve worked it out together, we could’ve came up with a plan—” you stopped as you watched Frank shake his head in disbelief, “What, Frank? What the fuck is that about?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Come up with a plan? Really?” he scoffed, “This isn’t team sports. It’s not some dumb escape room you sit around and solve clues in. It’s real fucking life.”

You looked down at your feet. The escape room comment was a low blow. It was something you loved doing and grumpy Frank hated. He’d go along with it if you planned it, not bothering to hide his disdain at first, but by the end of it you knew he had fun with you.

You didn’t think he’d throw it in your face as a means to mock you.

“Frank, we were partners. That’s what you do.” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “You work through things together. As a team. Not one person taking over and telling the other person what to do all the time, but see you didn’t ever want to do that did you? You didn’t think I was capable right?”

“Don’t go there.” he warned. You could see his hands start to twitch. In the past his agitation would have gotten you to dial it back a little. You hated fighting with him and it was never worth it.

But this time you didn’t care. You didn’t understand why he was the one so angry.

“Why not?” you probed, “You always made it seem like I was one mistake away from getting myself hurt.”

“That’s because you never took things seriously. You had no sense of danger. Too trusting, too carefree, too-”

“Stupid?” you interjected.

“I didn't say that.” he shot back. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to find some place to channel the tension. You could tell this was not how he wanted the conversation to be going either.

You couldn’t believe you were having this same fight. It was something you never got along about.

You tried to be understanding. You both had different life experiences and because Frank had a military background, he had been trained to look at things a certain way.

He was trained to look for a threat and “take it out before it took you”. Transitioning back to civilian life wasn’t always that simple. Those habits could be hard to unlearn.

It wasn’t always bad, but it wasn’t always necessary.

Not every stranger was a potential threat set out to hurt you.

Staying late at work didn’t mean you were in danger and someone was holding you hostage.

Interviewing a source for your upcoming news article didn’t immediately put a target on your back.

But Frank always anticipated the worst.

You know it was his way of expressing his love but it could be a lot at times. You just wanted to enjoy life together without always feeling like there was some danger lurking around the corner waiting to get you.

“Go ahead Frank,” you continued, “Let me hear how stupid it was for me to walk home by myself tonight. How naive it was to risk getting hurt when I should’ve called a cab.”

“I ain’t gonna act like it was a good idea, and up until a few minutes ago I’m sure you were realizin it wasn’t either.”

You let out a groan.

“I was almost home, besides I don’t think anyone would’ve tried anything with the big bad punisher stalking me.” you said, throwing your arms out dramatically.

“I mean really Frank, what was your plan? Were you just gonna jump out and shout surprise? Were you gonna follow me home to make sure no one grabbed me? Stare down the cars that drove past me? The people that passed me? What was the fucking point?”

For a moment he didn’t say anything.He kept his gaze down at his boots. The twitching of his hands had stopped, and the heavy rise and fall of his chest had slowed down.

“I needed to see you.”

The phrase was simple, but it held such weight.

You understood what he meant. You felt the desperation in his voice. And yet you couldn’t stop the anger from bubbling up.

“What about all the times I needed to see you? To hear your voice? Why didn’t I deserve the decency of a phone call, a text message, anything?”

“I couldn’t risk it.”

“Bullshit.” you spat. “You could risk asking Madani about me?”

His head shot up at that.

“Are we gonna do this all night?” he asked, the anger picking up in his voice again, “Huh? We’re gonna just keep yelling at each other? Who was right? Who was wrong?”

“Yes Frank because I’m angry with you! You made me feel unimportant. You made me feel helpless, like I had no control over my own damn life anymore.” You stepped closer, making sure he couldn’t avoid your eyes.

“You pushed me away like I meant nothing to you!” you shoved him.

“No.” he shouted, “I pushed you away because you meant everything to me!”

He turned away and let out a deep breath through his nose. The weight of his words slamming into you like a wrecking ball.

“Everyone I've ever cared about gets hurt because of me. Because of my demons. Because of the shit I've done to other people. I couldn't take that chance with you. They were so close to hurting you. I had to do something. That’s why I contacted Madani. That’s why we got you into witness protection.”

You felt the sting of the tears start to swell up again. From anger, frustration or sadness you couldn’t tell. Maybe it was all three.

“You want to know why I couldn’t say goodbye to you? Why I couldn’t call you? It’s because I knew—,” he paused and looked off to the side, “I knew that if I saw you—if I just heard your fucking voice—I’d change my mind.”

He finally locked eyes with you again, taking a step closer to you. He was testing it out, seeing how close you would let him get. To his surprise you didn’t move away.

“I couldn’t be selfish with you.” he said softly.

You didn’t know what to say. You knew the people that had been after Frank were relentless, but you never once feared for your life. Maybe there was more to it that he kept from you, and you wanted to trust him, but it didn’t diminish what you experienced while he was gone.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry I hurt you. But I’m not sorry I did it because you’re safe. And I know it’s probably not what you want to hear, but I’d do it again in a fucking hearbeat if it meant nothing would happen to you.”

“It’s just—.” your voice trembled and you bit your bottom lip. You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t put the words together.

“What is it?” he asked gently, taking another step towards you. This time he was close enough he grabbed the bottom of your chin and tilted it up towards him.

“I really missed you and I didn’t think you cared about me anymore.” You choked.

Suddenly you felt yourself pressed up against his chest as he pulled you into him. “No baby, that’s not true.” he soothed.

You wrapped your arms around his torso and laid your head on his chest, letting all the pent up emotions slowly release. God you forgot how good it felt to be held by him.

All the nights you longed for this very feeling. For him to hug you and kiss you and tell you everything was gonna be alright.

You could feel your unsteady breathing start to level out again and all the anger and frustration slowly disappear. It was as if he was a magnet, pulling out the deepest emotions you tried so hard to bury.

“I missed you so fucking much you have no idea.” He pulled back, tilting his head down to look at you.

You both locked eyes and without thinking twice you kissed him. He responded instantly, pulling you so tightly against him it was as if he was trying to swallow you whole.

That feeling people mention of the world standing still—you finally understood what that meant.

When you couldn’t breathe anymore you pulled away, resting your forehead against his.

“What does this mean, Frank?” you quietly asked. “Can we be together now? Do we just go back to the way things were before?”

He was quiet for a moment and you almost regretted asking the question.

“It’s whatever you want it to be sweetheart.” he finally answered, “You tell me.”

You weren’t sure what to say. One half of you wanted to be together again. The other half wasn’t so sure you should give in this easily.

What if it happened again? You didn’t doubt there were more people out there that’d like to see Frank Castle and the people he loved, hurt.

Would he push you away? You didn’t think you could survive it a second time.

“Frank, I love you. I want to be with you. But I need you to treat me like an equal. I want to be included in decisions. I don’t want to be kept in the dark again, it isn’t fair.”

Though he wasn’t speaking, you could tell the thoughts were churning in his head.

“If something like this comes up again I want to know about it. I want to have a say in how we handle it. Can you please promise me that?”

Frank let out a heavy sigh. He had to fight with the selfish side of him that wanted to say no. This shouldn’t even be something you have to worry about. He’s the one that should be responsible, not you.

But if he was being honest with himself these past several months were hell. He hated not being with you and maybe compromising would be the best thing to do after all.

He didn’t like making promises in general, but as he looked into your eyes he couldn’t bring himself to fight anymore. He needed to be with you just as much as you needed him too.

“Okay.” he agreed quietly.

“Promise me.” you urged again. You needed to hear him say it.

“I promise.”

You didn’t even realize how tense your body had become until you felt your shoulders relax. Frank pulled you into him again and you could feel the tension in him relax as well.

If anyone would have told you an hour ago you’d be standing in the middle of the street being held by Frank you would’ve told them they were crazy.

There were nights you never thought this moment would come. So as the two of you continued to stand there, holding onto each other. You realized there was probably nothing in this world that could match this feeling.

You would make sure that no matter what was waiting for you around the corner, you’d never let go again.