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ramonathinks · 2 months

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matters of the heart — Nanami K.

summary: finding out your ex-boyfriend wrote a novel detailing your relationship isn’t how you expected this week to go and to make matters worse everyone on the internet now thinks your “character” is a total bitch. you decide to pay your ex a visit, but can you do that without succumbing to your natural urges? well, no!

tags: 18+(MDNI/blank blogs) slight porn with plot, oral (f! receiving), brief nipple sucking, daddy kink, creampie, i guess nanami is a bit toxic in this lol, nanami might also be a bit ooc in here

to the moaners: has this been sitting in the draft for about 3-4 months? yes! but happy birthday month, kento 😚. artwork by @/_3aem (twt); @ryomens-vixen (this was the fic I mentioned a while back) word count: 5.6k (yuck), I don't really like this

I’m going to kill him, that was the only thing on your mind once you closed out of the novel. Normally, your weekends were spent relaxing with a fruity bubble-gum colored cocktail but today was different. Shoko called your phone at exactly 9:26 am claiming it was time she divulged some news to you. At exactly 9: 28am, she sent you an online copy of a book titled, “Matters of the Heart” and told you it was nothing but a two or three hour read and then to call once you finished.

The book had a slow start and it seemed pretty average, just any old love story. Lately, anything was getting published and it seemed that was the case here — wait, you paused your reading and sat up straight. No. Just no. Something just clicked for you which led you to completely start over from page one.

The moment you finished, at exactly 1:01 pm, you grabbed a salmon colored low cut shirt and light washed jeans, slipped on your white shoes and hurried to get into your car. You didn’t need to call her phone because you were going to talk to her face to face; this situation warranted a real conversation. It was nothing but a 17 minute drive to Shoko’s house, so when you arrived at exactly 1:18 pm, her door was already open. “They’re bashing me, Shoko. Fucking bashing! How could he do this to me?” Were the first words that flew out of your mouth, holding your phone close to her face so that she could see the reviews.

“Well, it’s not like anyone would know it’s you.” She yawned, handing you a cup of water – probably because of how crazy you looked – before she ushered you to a seat on the couch. A golden brown blanket was lazily thrown on the seat, which she hurried to move. You sat down and faced her with a look of what Shoko could only describe as pure sadness. She had seen you like this many times before, all because of one person.

“You did.” You sniffled with an eye roll, you couldn’t help but feel uncertain. Reading this book only brought back more uncomfortable feelings towards the breakup and him. You thought that you were over him and the memories that the book produced made you question everything. One question remained which is: Why?

She giggled drily. “Hey, I read all his works. Pseudonym or not. He can’t hide from me. Plus, I know you both and everything that went on. I was there too, remember?” She mumbled the last part. “Maybe this was his way of coping?”

“It’s been years… and I heard he’s announced a sequel. Shoko, a SEQUEL! It’ll be released later this year.” You spoke in a shaking watery voice while she rubbed your back in an attempt of comfort. Your mind could only think of what the reactions would be to your character in the sequel… insecurities that you never knew were there flooded your mind.

“There was enough material for a sequel? I thought he covered everything…” Shoko rubbed her chin and looked deep in thought. You just stared at her, she couldn’t be serious. “Sorry, ignore me.” She shook her head ignoring your stare.

“Do I even confront him over this? A-and how would that make me look, like I still check on him right? I’ll look crazy and bitter… which apparently I am. Oh and I’m bitchy and a ‘total cunt’ as they’re putting online.” He didn’t know just how much you changed, he missed your growth. Rubbing your eyes, you ask:“Why did you tell me about this? What made you take so long… I just don’t understand.”

“Well, at first… I didn’t think you’d care.” Moving a strand of her nut-brown hair out of her face, she continued. “Then about a month ago, I decided it was right to tell you, just in case someone else pieced it together.”

“Gojo read it then, huh?” You mentally cringed at the thought. It was the only person you could think of who’d be so crude about it. He knew how damaging the breakup was for you but not as bad as Shoko knows. Now, you’re just grateful that she told you before he did.

“Yep, so I figured that I had to tell you before he did.” She clicked her tongue. “But let’s just calm down before you make any rash decisions on how to handle this.”

“He wrote a fucking duality series about me, our relationship, our sex life and you want me to calm down? Are you listening to yourself? This is a serious matter. I am being called a bitch, a slut and more on Goodreads and multiple websites, reviews, etc. and he didn’t even have the audacity to give me a heads up. You had to call me.” You let out an unladylike snort.“Why couldn’t he stick to his mystery novels? Wasn’t he doing good at those?”

“Writer's block.” Shoko said in a singsong-like voice. “He hadn’t written a mystery book since you two broke up and then… he alerted his supporters he wanted to switch things up and then… that was that. Ladies loved it, a big hit. By the way, if you two were really fucking like that I need to se—”

“Shoko, now is not the time!” Your face felt hot all over, your mind racing. “I just can’t believe this.” You wrapped your arms around your body and squeezed, giving yourself one big squeeze. It was hard not to cry but you could feel it all in your throat.

“I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think his intentions were to make you feel bad.” She hugged you to her chest, pressing a small kiss to the crown of your head. “I think he still loves you. I mean, isn’t this book proof? After all these years, he wrote about you.”

“I’m sure he moved on by now.” You whispered, your eyes growing tired already and the day had barely started. “I just need to lay down. I need to rest.” Your mind seemed to finally grow calm and your breathing steady, a small hiccup now in your throat but with a gulp of water, you were better.

“Just stay here. I don’t trust you to be alone right now.” Shoko’s voice drowned out as sleep overtook you, you could only feel her warmth as she held you and honestly it was all you needed at this moment, Shoko always made you feel safe and you couldn’t thank her more than enough for that right now as you slept.

You were a light sleeper, it was always something that Nanami pointed out about you. He always said how he felt like he couldn’t leave the room while you slept even if it was to use the bathroom afraid to wake you. He knew how important sleep was to you and he’d risk having a bladder infection if you got all 8 hours that you required. Nanami was sweet and caring like that.

You didn’t think you’d break up with him ever. He was the one for you and he always made that clear. He pampered you and even after the breakup – though you didn’t need it – he left you with a check for five thousand dollars, saying it was for his half of the lease for the next few months.

The breakup was brutal for you. You almost quit working entirely. Shoko was the only person you’d confined into and the only friend you left to check in on you especially when you didn’t want to leave the house. She brought you groceries and helped you shower until you finally were able to get up again.

Though it was hard to believe, it was Nanami who broke up with you. You thought it was a joke, a cliche little joke.

“Baby, I’m not joking.” His voice was quiet and husky, he spoke as if he was going to cry. “I just need some time to myself. I need to figure out if this is what I want. You don’t have to wait for me, you just keep on living your life and being happy. But… I think it’s time we let this go.”

You didn’t cry in front of him. You didn’t cry when he packed his things up. You certainly didn’t cry when he shut the door, leaving his key on the table because you knew he was joking. He had to be. But when you called him and his number was disconnected and you were blocked on any form of social media… that was when you broke down and cried.

It happened out of nowhere. You overanalyzed every aspect of your relationship for where you went wrong. You wrote down every conversation you could remember and dissected it word by word. You watched every video and picture you had of the two of you looking for a bit of regret or anything on his face. You read every text message, looking for malice. He said he needed time to figure out if he wanted this but he always made it clear that he did and even that he was looking forward to having kids together, you two had even gone ring shopping months ago.

You didn’t sleep and when you did, it was only for 4 hours and sometimes barely that. Your heart had an ache in it and the tears wouldn’t stop. You could only think why wasn’t I enough?

When you opened your eyes Shoko was still holding you and a small smile grew on your lips. “Thank you Shoko.” You knew if you could count on anyone, it was always going to be her. She was the one who pieced you back together and made sure that life didn’t destroy you and you couldn’t help but to be grateful.

“Of course. ‘M going to let you spend the night here, okay? Let’s get some takeout and watch your favorite movies, how’s that sound?” She knew the way to your aching heart like the back of her hand.

“It sounds amazing!” You stretched your arms out wide, leaning off of her and sitting up. “Should we start with Uptown Girls or Legally Blonde?”

It took two days before you confronted him. Shoko was adamant about not giving you his address and you were tempted to get it from her phone. But luckily, you wore her down, she was probably tired of you bringing him or his book in every conversation. So now you stood there, nerves washing over you in waves.

The mahogany colored door stared at you – mocked you – and you returned the glare before you knocked on it, hard. This was just a door and you were angry at the person behind said door, not the door itself.

It was almost like he was waiting on you because the door unlocked and opened. He even stepped aside to let you in, quiet. His straw-colored hair was parted differently and he even looked taller or broader – you couldn’t completely tell – but he looked different… seemed different. The atmosphere around him made your stomach clench and it made you mad; why did it feel like only you suffered from the breakup? Here he was – strong and tall – and you were nothing or rather the same.

“You wrote a romance erotica novel about our relationship?” It was what you practiced saying before you got out of your car – making sure your voice didn’t tremble – this time, it didn’t.

“Well, hello to you too. Even after three and a half years, you still like to get straight to the point.” He grinned, putting a hand on your back to guide you to a seat on his couch. “I must ask, what makes you think it’s about you?” He does a slight laugh and raises his brow.

“We have the same initials, almost the same name. Are you kidding me?” You retort, folding your arms across your chest. You tried to ignore the fuzzy feeling in your chest that occurred when you heard his voice after so long, hearing him and seeing that damned smile… your nose scrunched up.

“Sorry, I just didn’t know you kept up with me… with my books…” He muttered, glancing your way, a demure look in his amber eyes. “Should I be flattered?” Almost in an instant, he turned on a slight cockiness to himself, though his body language showed his nervousness – his thigh bouncing a bit and his fingers tapping on the couch handle. A light sense of relief filled your system knowing that you weren’t the only one being affected by this.

“I don’t.” You inhaled deeply. “Shoko told me about it and then, I checked it out.” Fiddling with your fingers and even picking at your nails, that was your tell all sign of nervousness and right now you were engaging in it more than ever before.

“I wanted to tell you or rather, to ask you. I know you got the voicemails I sent last year…and then you kept dodging my calls.” He tells you, you could feel his eyes on you – or more so your fingers… the nasty habit that he had finally got you to stop all those years ago rushing right back in an instant.

“Writing a book to trash me and our relationship… to make you look like some sort of… ugh, like you’re so amazing and I’m just shit. Yeah, that certainly got my attention.” If you were coming off bitchy or rude right there, you couldn’t care less especially when there were worse things that you could’ve said or even could’ve done at this moment. You really wanted to slap him.

“Is that all you got out of it?” He asks with his head low, almost as if he was admitting defeat or as if he couldn’t believe you came up with something so trivial.

“Was there anything else to get?” You counter, shifting your body towards him. Maybe it was best that you sat down and actually listened to the author and his interpretations of his work.

“How about that I love you regardless of any flaws… how about I find your stubbornness and attitude sexy and how I knew this breakup would be good for you. I was holding you back. I mean, I heard you got promoted 3 times since we broke up… I just felt like I was changing you, hindering your growth. I needed to reflect on myself and this book helped that.” He tapped his fingers against his thigh, yet another sign of his anxiousness. “Believe it or not, I still care about you. No matter what happened between us.”

“What happened? You mean when you decided to just leave? You could've told me everything you just told me and I would’ve understood better. We could’ve talked and came to a compromise. You don’t understand what you put me through after it.” You were close to tears but you straighten your posture and sniffled, it was best not to think about what happened before. “I just needed a bit of closure too, I guess that’s why I came. I just was caught off guard. You could’ve knocked on my door or something, forced me to answer… forced me to talk.”

He met your eye for the first time since you came over. “You wouldn’t have listened,” He huffs. “Didn’t I mention how stubborn you are? Plus, I meant what I said. I needed time to myself and I think we both did.”

“I guess…But Nanami, this book was too much. A letter would’ve been fine if you needed closure, don’t you think?” You see his lips quirk up a bit before he licks them, trying not to laugh it seems.

“My publisher got a hold of some of the documents where I was just going over things, writing here and there. She loved the idea… plus I’m in a contract for six books so I had to put something out soon, it had already been a year.” He told you, sitting his chin on top of his knuckles. “I honestly didn't mean to hurt you. I was writing for fun… reminiscing about us and then later down the line, I realized I was writing because I wanted you to read it, I just didn’t exactly know how to get you to since you were very adamant on avoiding me, which is understandable. But regardless, I didn’t think it’d get on the bestseller list or for the reviews to get so harsh.” He admits, reaching for your hand before his hand froze in midair and he stopped himself, choosing instead to put it behind his head.

“Is there anyway you can stop the sequel from being published then… since you got my attention after all this time?” You asked, putting your most dazzling smile on, hoping to sway him.

“I can talk to my publisher. Everything’s in print and materials are already done… but I’ll try to see if I can stop production.” His adam’s apple bobbles when he does a harsh swallow. “Are we… okay? Do you forgive me?”

The question made you pause. He always made it hard for you to not forgive him; it took one look or a smile and a small explanation and it made it easy to fall in love with him all over again, no matter what he did… it seems. But it made you ask yourself: Were you too easy? Did you really forgive him? It was thoughts like that swirling around the corners of your mind. You wanted to forgive him, he was just writing and telling a story… but it was your story, not just his. Using this for your attention when he could’ve written about anything else, he didn’t have to. Were you just ready to forgive him because you still loved him?

You hadn’t realized how deep in thought you were until you felt the couch dip and even then, your mind was still spirling.“You don’t have to…” His voice brings you out of your thoughts, his body so close to yours that it was getting hard to breathe. He still smelled the same; citrus and woodsy and it was easy to get yourself sucked back in.

“So you can write another book about my stubbornness?” You give a quiet giggle, scooting a bit away from him, seeing him frown from the corner of your eyes. You didn’t want to fall back but he made it all so simple. It was easy and you were already falling back on him and you didn’t need that… Did you?

“Baby…” Your body buzzed and hummed, turning to him with wide eyes. “I’ll do anything I can to make this right. Anything for you to forgive me… If they can’t stop publication, what can I do to make us right?” He was doing more than a gaze, he was full on staring and from how close he was it was hard to avoid.

“Nanami I–” You stopped yourself. You couldn’t really think of anything he could do but you could think of several unhealthy things you could do to ruin your progress on going over him. He had betrayed you and made you a laughing stock so why are you stuck thinking about forgiveness when you should be leaving.

“I never stopped loving you.” His fingers traced up and down your pants but his eyes stayed on yours. “I never thought about anyone but you… I never slept with anyone… it’s always been you. But, I understand what I put you through and I’ll apologize every second until you forgive me…” The blond man who you never saw shed a tear looked more than close to it. “But just please… forgive me.”

“I’m sorry, honest.” He tries again after being met with absolute silence. “Just… let me show you, okay?” His breath tickles your face for a second and when you look into his cocoa brown eyes, you feel everything you once felt again.

Memories of good times dulls out the odd feelings in the pit of your stomach – the confusion and pain – instead are replaced with joy. The trip to Malaysia where he rubbed sunscreen on your entire body and laid back to read a book and you watched as his eyes kept drifting to you while you played in the cerulean water; how you kept begging him to come in until he complied and how eventually in the early hours of the morning when you wanted another dip, he fucked you twice — once in the golden lush sand and another in the cool ocean water.

His face is in your thighs and you couldn’t help but feel better, feeling his breath fanning so close to your pants covered pussy, your body felt scorching hot. He’s grumbling, “Will you let me make it up to you? Will you let me show you how sorry I am?”

You must’ve nodded because he was already unbuttoning your pants and helping you lay back, pulling your shirt up just a bit to see your perky tits – he must’ve remembered how you never wore bras unless you felt it was necessary, which was mainly work or any important events.

He blew a bit on your hardening nipples before he took one into his mouth – playing biting them with a smug look on his face before he began licking around your areolas and kissing around the swells of your breast. He doesn’t say anything but he looks deep in thought as he kisses down your body, his fingers scraping down your sides as he works your pants and your panties all the way down. Bringing his head up for a minute, he looks in your face. “I love you.” He says it simply, heavy emotions swirling in his brown eyes.

Removing your pants and underwear completely from your body, he spreads your thighs and looks over your body – a trimmed low pretty bush sits between your thighs and it makes him smile, he always loved seeing the curled hair on your delicate lower lips. He spreads your pussy, watching the skin stretch with a deep smile on his face. You could feel yourself … the wetness leaking down under your body and it made you cringe, but the way he was staring at you made the insecurities vanish. “All this for me?” He takes a tentative lick before he slurps, clutching your hips. “I know you like to run… but I need you to stay put, got it?” It was hard for you to listen to him, your head already fuzzy and the thoughts swirling around were only about him, nothing more.

Then your body bucks up, “Wait–!” A broken moan escapes your mouth when he presses a soft wet kiss to your clit. Nanami had always been gentle and very careful whenever he ate you out; making sure his tongue was wet enough and that he wasn’t too rough. His tongue was wide enough to make your back arch, your body leaving the couch when it finally hit your clit and he gave you no time to recover before he peeled back the hood, sitting the tip of his tongue there and rapidly flicked at the bud.

Hearing the lewd squelching noises coming from the mixture of your cunt and his mouth made you close your eyes, squeezing them shut tightly. He spits before he licks it up and down your aching slit, nudging his tongue inside only slightly, much to your dismay. You’re gasping every second when more of his tongue slips in and out of your pussy; sliding a bit more each time and it makes your thighs shake. When he finally slips his entire tongue inside of you, curling it just enough that you can feel it everywhere, your legs attempt to close up around his head. “Please– ‘m so… soo–oh…” His fingers join in on the fun and in small sloppy circles he rubs your clit, pressing down on the pearl while his tongue continues flicking inside of you. The split second that you open your eyes, his are already on yours and it was that moment, that made your body tense up and for you to cum.

It happens fast, clear sticky wetness leaks out of you and Nanami still tries to get more of it on his tongue, catching anything that drips and sucking on your folds. “Always so fucking good…” He mutters, spreading you again and smearing more of your slick on his face by shaking his head between your thighs, so that he’s completely covered in you.

When he moves his head, embarrassment comes over you, looking at his wet face… even his forehead was wet and you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby but… I’ll be right back, stay wet for me.”

Your heart hammers against your chest, lying there on this now wet couch. You didn’t come over here for this and yet here you are… about to get fucked and really, it was no turning back now. You’d been on dates with men after Nanami but they never lasted past the second date and you certainly hadn’t had sex in a while, but he made you come apart like it was nothing.

But then again, Nanami knew your body… so of course this was a walk in the park for him. It honestly annoyed you right now, you couldn’t even make yourself cum half the time especially these last few years and now, barely an hour here and he has you right where he wanted you… bare and practically back in love with him.

Nanami came back with a fresh face and unbuttoned pants that he was currently pulling down. You clenched around nothing, your mind thinking only of the perfect dick that was going to be coming out of those pants. You licked your lips, this would be the first dick you saw in years and it was his.

His drooling cock slapped his stomach and you swallowed, your mouth felt unreasonably dry. The length of his cock always impressed you, standing tall at seven and a half inches, he shakes with laughter which snaps you out of your daze. “Now let me look at you.” His whispers and even though he already saw you, both years ago and right now, you can’t help but feel hot all over again. He’s staring – drawing his eyes down every inch of your body – focusing on your breast before getting to the stare of the show yet again. He smirks, laying you back down, pressing his body against yours to kiss you.

Your breath was caught in your throat, his tongue still tasted of you and his hands cups your jaw. He’s gentle, his tongue moving around your mouth messily before he stops, saliva breaking apart when he does so. His fingers make a ghostly featherlight touch on your clit that makes you jump, the head of his cock at your entrance. He holds out his hand, close to your mouth. “Spit.” Gathering up some, you spit in the palm of his hand and stroke it along his length, huffing at the sensation.

He pushes in, taking his time to work himself inside of you, a strained expression on his face. Hips pulled back, he focuses more on just the tip of himself fucking you, watching your pussy stretch with just the tiniest bit of resistance. Inching himself inside, you watch his torso flex and he groans, obscene noises plop and plap around the apartment, his heavy cock pushing in and out of you, your toes curling.

“Pussy still mines, right? Didn’t give it away, did you?” You’re struggling to talk - to fucking breathe - your eyes rolling back and your jaw slacked but you babble out a soft ‘no’ which makes him finally thrust in you harder, completely bottoming out. You feel him in your belly, feeling full and embarrassingly wide with him stretching you out, his balls sitting on the crest of your ass before he moves.

He moves you a bit, your bodies flush to each other and he moves his hips in harsh circles, his pelvis so close to your clit. His hands on your calves, he pushes your legs so that they rest on his shoulders, your knees touching your ears makes you tighten up and he groans above you.

“Nanami I-” You call out, eyes closed with pleasure shaking through your core, wetness slapping between the both of you.

“Nanami? No, call me what you used to call me.” His hips slowed down, a whine escaping your lips. His cock dragging inside of your walls, pulling out slowly, awaiting your response.

“Please…don’t slow down, Ken—” before the word even left your lips, his hand slapped your cunt, leaving your legs shaking a bit and your eyes snapping open. Drops of tears run down your cheeks and you sniffle, reaching for him… you couldn’t help but feel so small in his presence.

“Say it.” Then, you knew what he meant. A name that now feels foreign in your brain and even when it leaves your mouth, it comes out in a strange rattled whimper.

“Oh, oh… daddy, ‘m sorry. Please, keep fucking me. It’s so goooood!” He’s grinning before the words leave your mouth.

“Still my good girl huh? Always so fucking good for daddy.” He licks up your neck and it makes you tremble, your tongue lolling out a bit and he moves to suckle on it. “Did you skip over all those sex scenes or did you rub this pussy out to them?” He asks, his fingers digging in the back of your thighs.

You choked out, sobbing, “I did, daddy… But I-I don’t want to remember everything.”

“You don’t remember all the words I used to describe this cunt? This pretty pussy? That changed his life… my life? That made him always crawl back? That made him so fucking hard? The pretty words I used to describe you? To describe how pretty she always looked when he fucked her? How his heart felt like it was going to explode when she looked at him too long because he loved her so damn much?” He’s groaning in your ear, thrusting into you, his depth reaching your g-spot, your pussy spasming and begging for his cum at every word he uttered.

Pumping himself inside, you could see the white creaminess that was on his cock, most likely because of you, he was constantly fucking the cream inside of you, your nails digged into his arms and he moaned at the feeling. Your stomach tightens and you move to push him away, “I’m going to c–cum!” You felt him throbbing inside of you, signaling that he was close too. “Please, cum inside of me… I can’t take it.” You couldn’t stand it any longer, it’s been years and you needed him to fill you up. He stopped for a moment, changing positions so that you’ll be sitting on his lap, grabbing your hips and forcibly bouncing you on his dick, dangerously slow.

Wetness gushes on him as his tip hits you from a new angle, seeing the outline of him in your tummy, he’s stretching you again with each nasty thrust. Each drag of his cock making you go crazy and the aching between your legs continue, your body shaking and both of you moaning loudly and over each other.

Finally, your orgasm rattled and shook your entire body, your pussy sucking him in, milking him for all he’s worth and it makes his body shake and he releases inside of you, trying to stay quiet as his body jerks up, unable to stop himself from fucking you through both of your orgasms.

It’s quiet for a while, just heavy breathing with you laying on his chest. “I love you too…” Your voice is scratchy and your face tear stained. He doesn’t say anything, his cock still pulsing inside of you.

“I know. I love you too, never stopped.”

“Did you at least read the acknowledgements or did you just dive right in?”

“I never read the acknowledgements for books, thought you would’ve remembered that.” You watch him get up, walking around the living room, looking for something. You were both still naked and the entire room smelled of sex.

“I did remember that and when you barged in my door, I already knew that you still hadn’t changed when it came to that. Here, read this part right here.” He brings you over a copy and you run your fingers around the softback cover with a small smile on your face; this silly thing had brought you both back together and right now you could give less than a fuck about those reviews.

Feeling the spine of the book, you open it and can practically smell the scent of an unopened new book. Turning the first few pages, you go to the one page acknowledgment and read it aloud: “She might not read this book. But if she does, by chance. I hope she knows that I still love her.” You wiped your eyes and smiled. “You’re an asshole, you know?”

He lets out a hearty laugh, “I know baby.” Kissing the top of your head, he gets up and grabs his phone from the kitchen counter and you follow him. “I think I have enough material to write a third book now.” He grabs his phone and starts typing, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was deep in thought. Attempting to grab his phone he chuckles and uses his height to his advantage by standing taller.

Standing on the tips of your toes you snort, “Don’t even joke about that!” But a smile takes over your face and he can’t help but smile too.

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emberwhite · 8 months

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I spent the last 11 months working with my illustrator, Marta, to make the children's book of my dreams. We were able to get every detail just the way I wanted, and I'm very happy with the final result. She is the best person I have ever worked with, and I mean, just look at those colors!

I wanted to tell that story of anyone's who ever felt that they didn't belong anywhere. Whether you are a nerd, autistic, queer, trans, a furry, or some combination of the above, it makes for a sad and difficult life. This isn't just my story. This is our story.

I also want to say the month following the book's launch has been very stressful. I have never done this kind of book before, and I didn't know how to get the word out about it. I do have a small publishing business and a full-time job, so I figured let's put my some money into advertising this time. Indie writers will tell you great success stories they've had using Facebook ads, so I started a page and boosting my posts.

Within a first few days, I got a lot of likes and shares and even a few people who requested the book and left great reviews for me. There were also people memeing on how the boy turns into a delicious venison steak at the end of the book. It was all in good fun, though. It honestly made made laugh. Things were great, so I made more posts and increased spending.

But somehow, someway these new posts ended up on the wrong side of the platform. Soon, we saw claims of how the book was perpetuating mental illness, of how this book goes against all of basic biology and logic, and how the lgbtq agenda was corrupting our kids.

This brought out even more people to support the book, so I just let them at it and enjoyed my time reading comments after work. A few days later, then conversation moved from politics to encouraging bullying, accusing others of abusing children, and a competition to who could post the most cruel image. They were just comments, however, and after all, people were still supporting the book.

But then the trolls started organizing. Over night, I got hit with 3 one-star reviews on Amazon. My heart stopped. If your book ever falls below a certain rating, it can be removed, and blocked, and you can receive a strike on your publishing account. All that hard work was about to be deleted, and it was all my fault for posting it in the wrong place.

I panicked, pulled all my posts, and went into hiding, hoping things would die down. I reported the reviews and so did many others, but here's the thing you might have noticed across platforms like Google and Amazon. There are community guidelines that I referenced in my email, but unless people are doing something highly illegal, things are rarely ever taken down on these massive platforms. So those reviews are still there to this day. Once again, it's my fault, and I should have seen it coming.

Luckily, the harassment stopped, and the book is doing better now, at least in the US. The overall rating is still rickety in Europe, Canada, and Australia, so any reviews there help me out quite a lot. I'm currently looking for a new home to post about the book and talk about everything that went into it. I also love to talk about all things books if you ever want to chat. Maybe I'll post a selfie one day, too. Otherwise, the book is still on Amazon, and the full story and illustrations are on YouTube as well if you want to read it for free.

#books #reading #childrens books #lgbtq #lgbtqia #autism #transgender #furry #therian #art #deer #queer #artists on tumblr #creativity #illustration

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kroosluvr · 24 days

Text

temptation

i lowkey have too many notes to write down properly KDFHKDS but ill write them down for Future Cele so i can read it later and be like omggg past cele ur so fun and interesting

in general, the more "color" the scenes have, the closer it is to "real life" as opposed to the muted/hushed winter blues of maruki's reality

i.e. the dark frames w akira smiling and the very last panel are when reality sinks in: first for akira, then for goro

by the way this is long winter au but sumire is still brainwashed. this also works for canonverse but i just had long winter au in mind:o

youve heard of laundry and taxes now get ready for coffee and pastries

in every panel, akira is smiling! :) and goro is very much not smiling.

intentionally his face is hidden in the last 2 pages so its unclear whether it's the "ideal reality" already (akira/goro's daydreams/wants/desires), or if goro is still fighting akira on making sure he picks the right choice

the smoke from the first page kinda leads into the 3rd page omfg COMPLETELY UNINTENTIONAL BUT REALLY COOL LMAOOO

that's nameless and belladonna in jazz jin!!! i love them. I LOVETHEM. i miss them so bad is it obvious

the cafe is loosely based off of caffe strada @ uc berkeley LMAO. my parents used to take me there a lot as a little kid so that's the first cafe i think of when i imagine one. its like right on the streetside, basically on the sidewalk, so its very bustling and people are always walking by... probably a little disconcerting to see everyones summery bright smiles despite the bitter cold and snow

in long winter AU, the Ideal Reality starts before 1/1 so yeah they get to see the new years fireworks together (or something)

also intentional that they wear the same winter outfits in the whole comic although it Probably does not take place at the same time. in maruki's snowglobe, time seems frozen in place... but akira and goro are both acutely aware that the sands are running thru QUICK

goro's frustrated expression on page 3 is one also of disdain: "don't speak FOR me you fucking imbecile" type of expression.

goro, who's never lived a normal life and therefore doesn't know much abt "normalcy" nor really actively seeks it. this 3rd semester is basically purgatory for him and he doesn't care to try and go through the motions the way akira does. akira what do YOU know about the type of "normalcy" i deserve? how do YOU know if i "deserve" that?

im thinking that this is a naive akira who is mostly set on taking the deal because he feels hopeless... seeing all his friends with good happy lives while goro and himself are alive and miserable and shouldering the weight of the world during the horror of long winter......

oh but if he takes the deal they could all be good and alive and happy!!!.... and goro knows this. i feel like in any other universe (i.e. akira is 100% certain on not taking the deal and goro knows this) then goro would be happy and carefree to do these little indulgences for himself and akira's sake, to just enjoy the snowglobe world while it exists.

but this goro is discontent. he sees how akira is enjoying the snowglobe and knows maruki is depending on this. goro has to be the one to remind akira that none of this is his to keep........ in this fucked up world, routine is dangerous. becoming comfortable is dangerous. they cannot keep any of this.

on that note, goro says "i hate you" in a halfhearted sort of way (it's not true and akira knows that.) but he's trying to think of a way that he can dissuade akira from picking the wrong choice.....

and i think the thing is, goro thinks all of this, but he still falls into the rhythm of routine with akira anyway. in a way, goro feels hopeless too.

all of this is maruki's doing........ paralyzed by the inability to choose... whatever you do, you lose. goro needs to hold akira at arm's length so the stupid sentimental fool doesn't get too attached and falls into the wrong universe. akira needs to make a concentrated effort to detach himself from goro even though he wants the simplest thing in the world: just one more unremarkable day with him. it's lose-lose..........,

also i liked drawing the tentacles in the last pic the freaking blue lines on them were SO satisfying to draw

edit: also the last page: the blood flooding the panel….. the idea of the ideal world being built off of the blood and sweat and tears and bodies of the people who could have been. of those lost in the actualization, of those destroyed, of those stitched together and brought back to life. all just for a little false happiness. goro sees it but akira doesn’t, and it’s a grim sight.

#shuake #goro akechi #akira kurusu #persona 5 royal #cele draws #cele comics #last comic for 2 weeks ish probably bc ill be away frm my usual setup for a while:O will still be drawing tho!!!#long winter #takuto maruki

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pathologicalreid · 7 months

Text

sense memory | S.R.

After eight months, you and Spencer reunite after he was in prison and you were in WITSEC.

who? spencer reid x hotchner!reader category: flangst content warnings: general cm violence, peter lewis, prison reid, cat adams word count: 2.64k a/n: i have no idea if i like this or not. it might be too cheesy. but i like cheese.

Second floor, apartment 23.

You leaned against the wall and slid down until you were sat on the ground. You left your bag draped over your shoulder, holding the strap tightly.

“Haven’t seen you around in a while, sweetie,” someone said, causing your head to snap up. “Here to see him?” Spencer’s elderly neighbor asked as she passed, carrying a grocery bag in her hand from the market down the street.

Nodding, you smiled softly at her, “I was on a trip. I’m just waiting for him to come home.”

She hummed and kept walking to her door, apartment 24. “He went on a trip too, huh.”

Waving halfheartedly as she disappeared into her apartment, you leaned your head against the wall. Yeah, you went on a trip – a trip to witness protection, and Spencer went to prison.

Spencer went to prison. The words still felt foreign to you, you hadn’t heard them until two weeks ago after Peter Lewis died. Since he didn’t know where you were, he sent letters to your old address, and they were forwarded to the marshal assigned to protect you. When you left the program, you got the letters. 178 letters.

Some of them were several pages long, some of them were as simple as an I love you or an I miss you, and some of them had doodles, usually equations.

You wondered if he’d gotten your mail yet. The letters and pictures you’d collected for your marshal to send to him once you were out of WITSEC. You weren’t even sure if he’d want to see you, but your dad encouraged you to try anyway.

You had left in October, just after his birthday, and now it was May.

After being separated from your dad and Jack for so long, you went to stay with them for a week, but you knew you wanted to return to the district. You wanted to see Spencer, for closure if for nothing else. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, JJ,” you heard him say from the first floor, and panic washed over you. The nerves of seeing him again had you wondering whether or not you could survive a jump out of the second-story window.

But the hallway windows didn’t open, you were left panicking, and then there he was.

You shouldn’t be here; you didn’t know what to say to him. The first person from your past should’ve been someone else. You could’ve called JJ or Penelope.

You saw him before he saw you, he was too busy digging in his bag for his keys. Pulling yourself up to your feet, you stood up and wiped your clammy hands on your jeans.

When he looked up and saw you, his expression went from confusion to disbelief to shock. Not once did he look happy, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he, like you, had been finding it hard to be happy lately.

Your chest ached as he walked past you and put his key in the lock. Spencer opened the door, and you held your breath as he held the door open, and you stepped inside of the apartment.

For months, you had imagined this moment in your mind, wondering what you would say when you finally got to see him again. He set his keys down on the entryway table before he turned around and faced you.

Familiar honey-colored irises studied you as if he was comparing the last time he had seen you to now.

“I shouldn’t have come,” you whispered, suddenly feeling like you were imposing on him.

Slowly, you walked backward out of the still-open door, resorting to the idea of never seeing him again. Until he spoke, “Please don’t leave me again.” His voice was soft, timid in a way you had never heard before.

You spun around and your lips parted in surprise. Tentatively, you stepped back toward him before you were right in front of him, inches apart, “I won’t.” It was a promise.

You weren’t sure who reached for who first, but the next moment your arms were slung around his neck and Spencer’s were around your torso, holding you so tightly that your feet lifted off the ground.

He’d bowed his head so that he could bury his face in the crook of your neck, whispering your name like a prayer that had been answered.

Propping your chin up on his shoulder, you took a deep breath, “I’m right here, Spence. I’m right here.” He was the same, and yet entirely different. Maybe more muscular, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. You opened your mouth to speak again, to tell him that you would never leave him again, not as long as he didn’t want you to.

Everything had changed in the past eight months; you knew you couldn’t make him that promise. That I’ll never leave you promise. It wasn’t real.

But Spencer was real. He was real and he was clutching you the way you were clutching you, his fingers digging into your skin so hard that you might bruise. “I got your letters,” you whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

You felt tears seep through your clothes as you took a deep breath and gently pried yourself away from him. “222 days,” he told you matter-of-factly. “I haven’t seen you in 222 days because you were in witness protection and you’re apologizing to me.”

“Of course, I’m apologizing to you. God, I left the program, and my marshal was like ‘Oh, by the way, here are hundreds of letters from your friends and your boyfriend wrote to you while you were gone. And just so you know, your boyfriend was in federal prison for the last three months.’” You took a few deep, uneven breaths. “What am I supposed to do with that, Spencer? Stop looking at me like that!”

He was smiling at you, his eyes were still watery, but he was giving you a doting smile even so, “I missed you.”

You dropped to a crouch at his words, and he followed you down. Those were the only words you had needed to hear over the last eight months. Meekly, you looked up at him, kneeling in front of you. When you left, Spencer had seemed like he was on top of the world, his mom had been accepted in that clinical trial, and the two of you had been talking more and more about your future. Now he seemed… heavier. A more burdened person. “I missed you so much,” you cried.

Reaching over to you, Spencer gently wiped the tears from your face before pulling you close to him, “You look as beautiful as you did the day I lost you.”

The two of you toppled over as a result of focusing on holding each other instead of balancing. He laid back on the floor, holding you close to him. You looked up, resting your chin on his shoulder, “You never lost me. You could never lose me. I always knew I’d come back; I always knew you’d get Scratch.”

“I didn’t, though,” he whispered, his voice tight with emotion.

You hummed, reaching up and cupping his cheek with your palm. “We’re here now, doesn’t that count for anything?”

Spencer pushed up so that he was being supported by his elbows, “That counts for everything.” He studied your face, “Where did that scar come from? It’s new,” he said, his voice still quiet, like you were an animal, and he was trying not to scare you away.

“Oh,” you murmured, “bashed my head on a door. Only me, right?” You brushed him off before clambering to your feet. What were you supposed to do now? Ask him if he wanted to talk? You used the sleeve of your jacket to wipe your nose. God, he had called you beautiful with snot running down your face. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered, staring at the floor. “I know, I know you’re going to say that I don’t have anything to apologize for, but I’m apologizing anyway. I’m sorry for leaving, I’m sorry that Morgan, my dad, and I all left within the same few months.”

He shook his head, “If you hadn’t gone, you’d most likely be dead now. I’d rather miss you for eight months than grieve you for a lifetime.”

You stepped away from him until you backed into the couch, “I thought about calling you. I had no idea that I wouldn’t have been able to. I just thought that-“

And just like that, he was kissing you. It was inevitable, just a question of who would make the first move. A small, shocked noise bubbled in your throat before you leaned into the kiss. It was gentle, tentative even. You gripped the lapels of his jacket as if he’d fade away, but you kissed him gently until he pulled away. “You showing up is the best thing to happen to me all year,” he murmured, sweeping your hair behind your ears. “You remain the most important person in my life.”

“Second most important,” you corrected. “How’s your mom?” Some of the information in his letters didn’t seem overly optimistic, mentioning him bringing her home to stay with him and a medication that he was getting in Mexico.

Spencer gave you a tight-lipped smile, “She’s good, I just went to see her with JJ, actually. She’s staying at a home in the district now.”

You smiled, “That’s good, keeping her close will be good for the both of you, I think.” Spencer reached around your body and pulled at your jacket, “What are you doing?”

“Taking your coat off in an attempt to coax you into staying,” he answered candidly.

Humming, you allowed him to pull the coat off of you, watching intently as he hung it on the coat rack. “Spence?” His name still felt foreign in your mouth as you moved to sit down on the couch.

He looked at you once he finished hanging his own coat, “Yeah?” Sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. A calculated decision, giving you space, but not sitting in a different chair.

“We should talk about it,” you responded, swallowing thickly. “All of it. Everything,” you continued. Millburn. Cat. Mr. Scratch.

Spencer went first, talking to you intently about what happened in that hotel room in Mexico. When he told you what Lindsay had done, you had to swallow your anger. Every once in a while, he’d trip over his words, and you encouraged him to take a break. You laid down on the couch and Spencer nestled in right next to you, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck and enabling you to play with his hair.

Eventually, he told you about Scratch’s takedown. How Luke had watched him dangle from the ledge of that building before he fell to his death.

You sniffled at the end of his story, “I’ll have to thank Luke next time I see him.” You said, closing your eyes and reveling in your sense memory. The smell of his shampoo – tea tree – and the smell of his apartment – stale coffee and old books.

“Where were you?” He whispered, reaching up and skimming the scar on your forehead with his fingertips.

Slowly, you opened your eyes to find his brown ones watching you. “Minnesota,” You whispered, “St. Paul.” Taking a deep breath, you continued, “Then Sacramento, for a while.”

His brows furrowed, “Why did you leave St. Paul?”

You hesitated, afraid to speak about the event. One of the worst things to have ever happened to you, right on up there with the death of your mother. “My uh…” you cleared your throat, “my location was compromised.”

“Does it have anything to do with the scar?” The one you had lied to him about hours ago.

Shutting your eyes, you nodded almost imperceptibly, “It has everything to do with the scar.”

You could see him starting to put a story together on his own, there was a scar on your face that hadn’t been there last year. A scratch. “What happened?”

The memory was there, you wanted to bury it, but it would stick with you forever. The scar on your forehead would fade, but the scar on your soul was permanent. “I did it, I put the scar there,” you admitted. “I don’t know how he found me,” you whispered, that same feeling of defeat rising in your chest.

You were lucky that there was no one else in the house for you to hurt because if Peter Lewis had turned you into a murderer, it might’ve pushed you over the metaphorical edge. As you spoke to Spencer, you told him as much. You were in a bad place while you were in WITSEC.

The two of you remained curled up together in a mess of tears and limbs and fistfuls of shirts and the overwhelming fear of being separated. Looking at him simultaneously broke your heart and put it back together again. “Sacramento was nice, but I missed the East Coast,” you whispered.

“What about your dad?” Spencer asked softly. Part of you wondered if he wanted to go to sleep, it was dark outside now, but you couldn’t be bothered to check the time.

Nodding, you sniffled, “he’s in Philadelphia with Jack, has been the whole time. That’s where I’ve been, with them.”

Spencer lifted his head to look at you, “Where are you staying tonight?”

Sighing, you shifted on the couch, “In a hotel, I’m apartment hunting tomorrow.”

“No,” he said simply, a frown forming on his face.

You laughed lightly, “What do you mean ‘no’?”

He shook his head, “I mean don’t go apartment hunting tomorrow, stay here with me. Stay here tonight, too.” He said, voice bordering on pleading.

“Spencer, we were together for almost six years and never moved in together,” you told him, arching one brow in suspicion. You had talked about it, it just never seemed to happen.

He sat up fully, “I’m tired of making excuses about breaking leases and travel times, Y/N. There’s not enough time in life to keep avoiding it,” he gestured wildly with his hands as his voice slowly rose.

You tried to wrap your head around the idea, “I just want to make sure you’ve thought this through before making a decision this big.” Folding your hands in your lap, you noticed the first real change in him. This was impulsive.

“I spent three months in prison thinking about you!” He said loudly, “Sometimes that was the only thing that kept me going.” That was quieter like he realized how loud he was actually being. “I knew there was my mom, I knew there was the team, but seeing you again… that kept me going.” He studied your face and based on the emotions you were feeling you could only imagine what your expression was, “Is it me? Is it everything I told you that I did? The poison? Cat? Do you not love me anymore?”

Your breath hitched, “I love you. Of course, I still love you.” Finally, you saw it. He was different, but at the same time, he was still the boy who hid his feelings from you – afraid of upsetting your father. The two of you had a long way to go before you could be together in way you used to be, and maybe things would never be the same.

His shoulders slouched forward in relief, “then move in with me.”

Nodding, you leaned your head on his shoulder, “okay.” You took his hand in yours, expertly intertwining your fingers as if no time had passed. “Okay,” you whispered. It certainly didn’t hurt to try.

“And for the record,” he murmured, “I love you too.”

please remember to reblog, like, and/or commend if you enjoyed!

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #written by margot #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds hurt/comfort #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot

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houseofceline · 10 months

Text

My Pretty Girl - T.N.

Steal My Girl

Pairing: Ravenclaw and sort of ditzy but talented Reader x Slytherin notorious playboy Theodore Nott

Warnings: None (yet ;))

Summary: Theo's friends get to meet you for the first time.

< 2

__________________

Perfect.

You clapped your hands in satisfaction after taking a little study break to organize all your fabrics by color. The plan was originally to go to the dining hall to grab a quick snack, but your messy little studio set up in your dorm easily distracted you on the way out and made you change your plans.

Your fingers flipped through the pages of your design sketchbook. A small smile formed on your face as you traced your sketches.

Fashion.

The only thing that you felt competent in. You didn’t have to try to make things look good. It was the only thing that came natural to you. You could plan an entire outfit for any occasion faster than you could even list the ingredients in a simple potion. You weren’t going to become a doctor like both of your parents, but you thought it’d be better to do something you’re good at rather than forcing yourself to study materials that you’ll never be able to understand. No matter how many times they tried to persuade, or threaten, you to change career paths, you never strayed far from your dreams. The dreams that kept you happy when you were scolded for wanting to stay home and draw instead of going with your father to work.

At least you will never have the chance to mess up a surgery. That would be worse than the invention of jeggings.

The door swung open and your roommate walked in. You furrow your eyebrows upon her presence, wondering why she would be back so early from her date with Cedric.

“How’d your date go?” You closed your design book and walked towards your bed before flopping onto it.

So comfy.

Cho sighed before rolling her eyes, “stupid last minute quidditch practice.”

You giggled as your stomach growled. Maybe you should’ve gotten a snack before you decided to clean.

“Dining hall?” Cho offered her arm out.

You jumped up from your bed and happily skipped over to her and took her arm.

“I’m famished,” You exclaimed in desperate need of having anything in your stomach after the oatmeal bowl for breakfast.

“Me too, Cedric had promised me pastries from a bakery in Hogsmeade before I got canceled on,” Cho grumbled as the two of you walked in a pair towards the hall.

Pastries. Croissants. Ugh you missed home. France has the best pastries. Now you were craving a chocolate croissant. Not that croissants are the only pastry in France.

“Next ti- ow,” you rubbed your head after the harsh impact, stumbling a bit.

“Watch where you’re going next time mate,” another boy came up and landed a harsh slap on his back.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” The boy in front of you questioned frantically while trying to hide the fact that he was searching your head for any bruises. Theo might kill him if he made a bruise on his “pretty girl”.

“I‘m okay,” you waved your hands in front of your face, kind of nervous that people were starting to look.

“Hello y/n,” The other boy came up and offered his hand out.

You were confused on how he knew your name despite the fact that you didn’t know his, but still shook his hand.

The boy chuckled at your confused looking expression. He could understand why Theo had called you pretty instead of his usual “she’s hot”s that the group would receive when talking about girls.

“I’m Mattheo, Riddle,” he winked, “Nott’s friend. And this is Lorenzo.”

You made an ‘ohh’ face in recognition but you remained surprised at the fact that you were even linked to him.

Cho nudged your side. You looked over to her and was met with a raised eyebrow. You were as equally as confused as her. You and Theodore had only interacted once and it was during that one potions class, the day Cho had to skip due to sickness. You had no idea why his friends knew about you or were even talking to you.

But nonetheless you offered a warm smile towards the two boys, “nice to meet you.”

“Nice to finally meet you too,” Lorenzo returned the gesture. You liked him, he seemed nice.

Cho cleared her throat while clutching her stomach. You had forgotten what the two of you had even come to the hall for.

“Well, enjoy your meal!” You waved them goodbye as Cho dragged you to the Ravenclaw filled tables and out of their sights.

“Who are you losers bothering,” Theo scowled and smacked the two boys on the back.

“We were just getting acquainted with our best mate’s girlfriend,” Mattheo teased as Theo raised his arm pretending to hit him, making Mattheo duck.

“Girlfriend? Please, you and I both know I don’t do none of that,” Theo rolled his eyes and the trio walked over to their table.

“Lucky her, you’re not exactly boyfriend material yourself,” Enzo replied as they took their seats grabbing their lunches before quidditch practice. The first game between Slytherin and Gryffindor was coming up, they needed all the fuel they could get before Malfoy made them run what felt like 100 laps during practice.

“What are you talking about? I'm the epitome of it,” Theo replied confidently as he took a bite of his sandwich. Sandwich was a bit dry, Italians do it better.

“Right, someone bring Hannah over for questioning,” Mattheo laughed as Theo glared at him.

“We never dated, I don’t owe her anything.”

____________________

“IT’S SO COLD!” You let out a high pitched scream as a huge gust of wind blew right into your face. You had a sweater that you knitted yourself on, paired with a skirt and black tights along with a designer scarf you had searched the whole country for. It was late October, but you hadn’t expected the weather to drop this low. Maybe you should’ve worn your winter coat or opted for a bigger scarf. Or maybe you shouldn’t have come at all. That was the original plan until Cho had managed to convince you to attend. You didn’t really understand quidditch. The whole game seemed complicated to you, plus the whole flying really high and the possibilities of students getting hurt didn’t sit well with your stomach. But you came regardless and it seemed to make Cho very happy.

“I KNOW BUT WE HAVE SUCH GOOD SEATS!” Cho screamed over the loud clapping and cheering that signaled that the game was about to start. Loud screaming, another thing you weren’t a huge fan of.

“HERE!” Cho screamed as she took her earmuffs off and placed them on your head.

“YOU MIGHT NEED THEM MORE THAN I DO!” She yelled before turning her attention back to the game.

One by one players in either red or green began to fly out. Everyone you were cheering as if it was a competition to see which side would be the loudest.

“GO HARRY! YEAH!” You heard Cedric shout from the other side of Cho.

You didn’t know any Gryffindors that well but since you were in a crowd of people all supporting that team, you didn’t want to stand out so you decided to clap along.

You recognized a few Slytherin players, the faces of the two boys who you had bumped into a few days earlier were spotted flying on broomsticks. You secretly clapped for them as well.

The mixture of red and green made your heart happy. Christmas. Your favorite holiday. Only two months to go! You couldn’t wait until you get to start putting together presents and drink peppermint mochas with your friends. It was all so exciting!

Focus on the game!

You scolded yourself. You look up and frown as you see players begin to grow aggressive. You frowned as a Gryffindor player tried to throw one of those flying balls at Lorenzo.

You knew it was part of the game but the fact that someone had almost harmed the nice boy made you want to reach for your wand.

“Yay go Enzo!” You cheered and clapped as you watched him dodge them with ease. A few Gryffindors side eyed you and gave you nasty stares but it was hard to pay them any mind with the distracting colors of ketchup and mustard wrapped around their necks.

Theo wanted to thank Berkshire, he really did. He wanted to thank him for providing him the strength to throw bludgers at Gryffindors. What was he doing stealing your attention like that? Last time he checked Berkshire was busy trying to ask out a Slytherin a year younger than them. He needs to leave you alone, you were his friend first. Maybe he should throw a bludger and knock Berkshire off his broom.

Would that be a Slytherin or Gryffindor point?

#theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #draco malfoy x reader #hogwarts oc #hogwarts au #harry potter #slytherin #ravenclaw #slytherin boys #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #theodore nott #mattheo riddle #lorenzo berkshire #hp fandom #hp fanfic

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bellaxgiornata · 2 months

Text

A Favor from the Devil |Chapter One|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Mom!Reader Word Count: 2.2k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; Domestic abuse, depictions/mentions of sexual assault, struggles with past trauma, canon-typical violence, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut (possibly more warnings to come)

Summary: Between working cases at Nelson, Murdock, and Page and combating crime as Daredevil in Hell’s Kitchen at night, Matt had little time for much else. Until a new neighbor moves in across the hall and you attract his attention with your odd behavior. But when your quiet four year old doesn't just befriend the Devil–she unravels his biggest secret–Matt only grows closer and more protective of the both of you. Inevitably he learns the truth of your past, but that's not what surprises him most. It's a favor you ask of the Devil–a favor that initially leaves Matt conflicted.

a/n: This is a story I've had in my head for quite a few months now and have steadily been working on for a bit for myself, but now I've decided to share it. I've spent quite a bit of time outlining and fleshing out the story--more than I usually do. As always, feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @kee-0-kee @dethspllz @a-half-empty-g1rl @senjoritanana

“And that's the end,” you said.

Closing the book in your lap, you glanced up from the brightly colored illustrations of animals on the back cover to your daughter who sat clutching Barnabas, the stuffed teddy bear that she never went to bed without. Her eyes had grown wide and hopeful as they held your gaze–a look you'd long since become familiar with. It was the same one she always gave you when she was about to stall in an attempt to avoid her inevitable bedtime. And it often worked on you, whether she realized it or not.

“Again?” Evelyn asked softly, a little hand reaching out towards the book. “Please, mama?”

“Cricket,” you replied gently, glad to hear she was stringing more words together tonight despite the excitement of this evening's move. “I've already read it five times now. I think it's time we put it away for tonight and you get to sleep.”

Evelyn's face fell at your answer and the sight pained you. It didn’t help that you knew just how anxious she'd been the entire weekend with all the big changes you both had going on yet again. She'd spent the past week barely saying more than a single word because of it.

“The book will still be here tomorrow,” you promised her. “We can read it again then.”

“Helps me sleep,” she whispered.

The growing frown curving her lips downwards and the little crease forming between her furrowed brows tugged at your heart. Especially with how she looked so small tucked inside the too-large sleeping bag you'd recently purchased at a thrift store. It looked as if she was being swallowed up by the giant purple thing considering she didn't even take up half the length of it.

Sighing, you felt your resolve fading the longer she stared up at you with her pleading eyes. With everything that you'd both been through over the past few months, and how you'd already felt guilty for all of the things you'd done wrong and hadn't been able to give her–which included an actual bed to sleep in once you'd gotten this apartment–you knew you wouldn't be able to resist that look. The very least you could do was read the book to her for a sixth time.

Leaning back once more against the bedroom wall behind you, you settled in for another few minutes on the uncomfortable floor. “Alright,” you relented. “I can read it just one more time for you, cricket. But then you've got to promise me something. Can you do that?”

The expression on her face changed, her small nose slightly scrunching up as her head turned to the side. “What?” she asked.

“Promise me that you'll actually go to sleep when I'm done,” you said, reaching a hand out to lightly ruffle her hair. “Because it's late and you've got your first day of preschool in the morning. Remember?”

“Oh,” she whispered, visibly sinking lower into the sleeping bag.

You frowned. She'd been nervous for that, too.

“Hey,” you said, your hand smoothing her hair before coming to gently rest along her shoulder. “You'll have fun there, I promise. I know it can seem scary going somewhere new, but you've been doing a great job adjusting to all the new things we've been through already. And you'll make friends, Evie. It'll be alright, I promise.”

The doleful look on her face didn't waver despite your attempt to comfort her. You hoped that beginning preschool tomorrow in conjunction with yet another move didn't set her back to nonverbal responses again. Guilt burned inside of you at the thought of how much your previous situation had led her to become so timid and quiet, afraid to use her own voice. It didn't matter that everyone at Hope Haven had tried to reassure you that none of what you'd been through was your fault, that you had done everything you could when you could. That didn't stop you from still feeling wholly responsible.

You should have seen it coming. Should have done something sooner.

But that was in the past now.

“And after work I'll pick you up and bring you back home with me,” you told her, trying to lighten her mood. “We can eat tonight's leftover pizza for dinner. And maybe I can get us some ice cream on the way home. How does that sound, cricket?”

Evelyn's hands began fidgeting with the edge of her sleeping bag, rolling it up between her small fingers. Her eyes remained downcast, avoiding yours. You knew she often fidgeted when she was anxious, a habit that just seemed wrong for a four year old to have acquired.

“Is this home?” she asked.

The ever present guilt in your stomach burned, your chest tightening at the unexpected and loaded question. You hated that she worried about things that no four year old should be worrying about, too. Another thing that was all your fault.

Expression softening, you nodded. “Yeah, Evie,” you answered, your hand dropping down to wrap around her little one that was still fidgeting with the edge of her sleeping bag. “This is home. We're staying here. Hopefully for a long, long time.”

Glancing up at you from beneath her lashes, you could see the expression on her face had yet again changed. This time she was staring up at you with a look that you absolutely hated seeing on her little face. One full of fear and uncertainty. A particular memory flashed through your mind at the sight of it and the acid in your stomach had a wave of nausea hitting you. Eyes briefly dropping down to the scar across the back of your right hand, you tried to fight back the tremble that had begun in it.

“We're safe?” Evie asked.

Attempting to swallow down the lump that had formed in the back of your throat, you nodded. You gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, though it felt like your heart was shattering in that moment. Because after all, it had also been your fault that it had taken so long to get the pair of you somewhere safe.

“Yes,” you stated, your trembling hand gripping the book in your lap tighter in an attempt to calm the quivering. “We're safe here. Don't ever worry about that, alright? That's for me to worry about. And I will always make sure you're safe. You hear me? Always .”

There was a long pause before she very slowly nodded her head just once. Your left hand patted hers tenderly, sending her what was meant to be a reassuring smile. You hoped it had been, because you'd been doing your best to appear more put together than you actually felt lately. You didn't need Evie to be worrying about anything else.

“So,” you said, trying to change the topic, “I guess we should get back to finishing our bedtime story, huh?”

Evie nodded vigorously, pushing herself more upright in her sleeping bag, her expectant eyes on you. You sent her another smile before clearing your throat and focusing back down on the book in your lap. Opening it once more with your still quivering hand, you tried to push the bad memories from your mind as you began to read in an animated voice.

It wasn't until four pages later that you'd glanced up at Evie. She had leaned over to see the pictures in the book while you read, all traces of fear gone from her face. Instead, she looked enraptured in the story that you knew she had completely memorized by now with how often you'd read it to her. There was a ghost of a smile on her face as she cuddled Barnabas tightly to her chest. And in that moment your heart felt full of hope.

Running a hand across your forehead, you paced your way around the mostly unfurnished apartment you'd just moved into this evening. The sparseness of the place was truthfully embarrassing. Currently all you had was Evie's sleeping bag, a blanket and lumpy pillow set aside by Evie’s bedroom door which would be your bed for the foreseeable future, and the empty boxes tossed around what would someday hopefully be a living room. For now it was just a large, empty room beside the small, empty kitchen.

As you paced around another overturned, half-broken down cardboard box, your shoulders dropped. You'd managed to pack all of Evelyn's and yours’ belongings in those boxes now lying discarded on the floor. Just six boxes fit your entire life. You certainly hadn't had much when you'd grabbed Evelyn and ran those couple of months ago. Just one garbage bag filled with mostly her clothes and things with a few of yours mixed in. Though even if you'd had time to pack more, there wouldn't have been much else to bring with you because neither of you’d ever had much to begin with.

And now here you were struggling to afford the very little you had as it was, no matter how desperately you were trying to stretch your measly new salary. It pained you to not be able to provide properly for you and your daughter. You remembered how you’d felt that very last night you'd stayed at Hope Haven, the women's shelter that you’d be forever grateful for taking the pair of you in and helping you start your new life.

Long after Evelyn had gone to sleep on your last night there, you'd laid awake in bed crying quietly to yourself as you stared at that damn purple sleeping bag mocking you from across the room. You’d felt like a terrible mother–for more than one reason. As tears ran down your cheeks, you’d vowed to save up to buy Evie a bed, doing whatever you needed to until you could. You'd give her that at least, even if it meant skipping meals whenever you could to save the extra cash. But honestly, you found yourself already often having to skip meals just so you could afford to keep Evie fed.

Pausing in your aimless pacing, you came to a stop beside one of the large windows in the living room. Placing a hand against the cool glass, you looked outside at the city. Your eyes inevitably found their way to the massive billboard positioned on the building across the street which hung at precisely your apartment's height. But fortunately for you the eyesore was more directly across from the apartment next door to yours, making it less noticeable and disruptive from your view. Though you had no choice but to feel grateful for the hideous thing because it had been the sole reason you'd gotten such a reduced rent in the first place. Otherwise you'd never have been able to afford a place in a relatively safe area of Hell’s Kitchen.

As you blankly stared outside at the billboard, watching the advertisements change from one to the next, you hoped things would be different here. Better. Because both you and Evie needed that. Your daughter needed a stable place to live, one she felt safe coming home to for once, and you desperately wanted to provide that for her. With every fiber of your being you hoped that this place would finally become the home you'd been struggling to create since the day she was born.

Pushing away from the glass, you rubbed at your tired eyes. It was late and you knew you should probably get some sleep yourself now that Evie had finally fallen asleep a little while ago. But the prospect of sleeping on the cold, hard floor with nothing but a singular blanket and pillow didn't sound that appealing. You certainly weren't rushing to get to sleep yourself.

Making your way back across the apartment, you reluctantly picked up the blanket and pillow from the ground. Carrying both of them over towards the closed door of Evelyn's bedroom, you set the pillow down. With both hands you tossed the blanket out, splaying it wide across the floor. You realized it was probably ridiculous sleeping in front of her bedroom door like this, especially because there was another bedroom, but it made you feel better. Because laying here, you knew that you were between your daughter and anyone who might come through the front door–namely one person in particular.

Not that he even knew where you were.

Beginning to lower yourself to the floor, preparing to get some rest, movement caught your attention out of the kitchen window across the room. You stopped instantly, head spinning fully towards the window as you sat half-crouched like a startled animal. Adrenaline and fear spiked through you as your eyes caught a shadow darting across the neighboring rooftop. For a moment you could have sworn the shadow had been shaped like a person, but as you scanned the rooftop now, you didn't see anything at all.

Shaking your head, you blinked hard a couple of times as you finally sunk to the floor. You had to have been seeing things because you were overtired and on edge. That's all it was. There was no reason for someone to be running along a rooftop late at night.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil

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wutheringcaterpillar · 2 months

Note

Hey! I love your little reader x Tommy ( I guess that what you would call it). I was wondering if you could do a one shot showing how they met and how Tommy fall in love with the reader. Thanks ❤️

Thank you for the request! I loved this one!

Based off this and this

warnings: age gap (20 years, everyone of age), fluff, fluff, fluff, sibling bickering, soft!tommy, hint of sexual tensions, mention of murder and war

The building was quiet, Tommy walking in with a vengeance and confident stride as he looked for his sister, all he needed was a book, a singular fucking book to take down the latest enemy, and where was his Ada? Nowhere to be fucking found of course.

His crystal eyes scanned several shelves of books, one after the fucking other and this was getting him nowhere. What was the point, he tried to be civil, to be aware of others relying on this space for quietness, for the opportunity to study but he was at ends meets.

“Ada Shelby!” All heads turned around, some irritated, some frightened as they stared at Tommy. He eventually muttered something rude beneath his breath how this didn’t concern anyone else and they could go back to their readings.

Ada stumbled hastily over, aggravated of her brothers lack of kindness and common sense for others while she smacked him on his shoulder with a book in her hand.

“Y’know unlike you people rely on words to learn something useful, maybe it’s a hobby you should pick up. What’re you doing here anyway?” Tommy explained the matter at hand, Ada knowing right off the bat what book may be of use, shoving her brother in the direction.

As he rounded the corner, throwing a joke over his shoulder at Ada, there you were sat in the secluded area wearing that little short skirt with knee high socks, the bows of your pigtails resting delicately against the scalp of that smoothe, beautiful hair. The dimlit lamp on the table you were using to read illuminating the pale, pink polish of your nail. The bright colors of your wardrobe making you stick out like a sore thumb compared to every other ordinary person, you were different. Tommy was intrigued by the aura of innocence you radiated, the pretty, fragile girl all alone in the mean, cold war. He felt a fierce need to protect that pretty face, to claim you and boy did he have a plan.

“Ada, my dear sister. Who is she?” Ada pulled the book from the shelf, following her incredulous brother’s eyes.

“Oh her? Her name’s Y/N, very whimsical one she is, never seen anyone dress like that or always happy regardless of that state of the world, kinda frightening actually.” When Tommy didn’t respond, unable to take his eyes off of you, Ada glanced from you to Tommt, knowing that look on his face. She was smart, fast, and she knew her brother like the back of her hand.

“Tommy no!” She yelled in a hushed tone not to disrupt the people studying more than Tommy already did. Before she could say another word, Tommy waved her off, stepping over to your corner with a poised stride and pulling out a seat.

Ada sighed, not in the mood for her brothers games instead tossing the book on the table, reeling you away from the fantasy novel you’d been indulged in.

The man sitting beside you now, his charming blue eyes greeting you like the ocean did the sandy shore on a sizzling summer day.

He was older than you, much older, probably old enough to be your father if you’d guess. Bookmarking your page with a pink sticky note, you leaned forward, cleavage now much more apparent to Tommy’s eyes but he hadn’t moved his gaze from your eyes, wanting to make a decent first impression and not have you feel like he was objectifying your body.

“Can I help you?” Your voice swooned him, so gentle, so quiet that he could feel his adrenaline pump through his veins, but patience was key.

“Thomas Shelby, and you?” His calloused hand lifted yours, placing a soft, chaste kiss to your delicate skin.

“Y/N…” Your voice trailed along as you crossed one thigh over the other to contain the fiery heat building rapidly in your panties.

“Y/N, lovely name. Tell me what is a girl like you doing all alone? It’s a dangerous world out there y’know? Crime wars and what not.” He reached inside of his tailored, black suit, obtaining a case of cigarettes from one of the interior pockets. Offering you one, he wasn’t surprised when you declined but still thanked him. Such a sweet, good girl you were.

Tommy’s blue eyes were charismatic like a prince out of a vintage film straight out of the movie screen.

Your eyes beamed with curiosity as to why the interest in the odd girl of Birmingham, but you were flattered. He was muscular, intimidating, yet oh so devilishly handsome.

“Oh well, Mr. Shelby-“

“Call me Tommy.” He interjected respectfully, lips curling into a charming smile. Not that he wasn’t thinking of you in a far too disrespectful manner of what that ass would look like bent over this god damn table.

He blew smoke into the thin air, making you cough slightly to which he apologized and moved the glass ashtray, diminishing the flame while igniting yours.

“Well Tommy, I think the world would be far better off without the endless crimes, without the wars in a world full of chaos and despair, wouldn’t you agree?” He shook his head in disagreement.

“You see Y/N, if there weren’t men like me to protect such an innocent, young girl like you, you may have no hope to survive. I’m a lover darling, not a fighter, though some may disagree.” He glanced over toward Ada whom was chit chatting with a friend, causing you to release such an infectious giggle that could possibly cure all the famine and disease of the world.

“How old are you anyway, you don’t look a day over twenty five.” You nodded toward his compliment, admiring his chiseled features.

“That’s because I’m not, I’m nineteen.” This hadn’t veered Tommy away from his original conquest when he saw you, instead fueling the blood flow inside of his crotch.

Tommy bit down on his bottom lip, taking note of how your eyes sparkled with impure thoughts that he knew you held, regardless of how other people may find your demeanor innocent.

“39.” Tommy had a knack for reading people, and you? You needed to be controlled, you needed a protector someone to look after you and fuck you hard though you’d never say it out loud.

“Tell you what, let me take you out. I own a pub down the street, serves great food, can’t promise pristine service but I can promise you a good time if you’ll allow me?” Gathering your books, you smiled widely, wanting to give this strange, attractive man a chance, something you typically wouldn’t do. He was the complete opposite, wearing dark, depressing colors, spoke with negativity toward everything going on in the world while you were the optimist. An optimist with a plan to show Tommy here that not everything in the world was so terrible.

With the readjustment of the sleeves of your pale shirt, your cleavage pressed up against the books. Causing Tommy to be confident in his next move, rubbing his large, veiny hand over the delicate, smooth skin of your thigh beneath the table causing your pussy to ache and butterflies to swarm your tummy.

“It’s a date then.” Your cheeks heated a rosy shade of pink, eyes sparkling with excitement.

He hated to watch you leave but loved to watch your ass bounce in that short skirt that swayed as you walked away. Ada watched you pass by her, looking back at her brother, shaking her head in disapproval before approaching Tommy.

He raised his hand, demanding to speak first.

“Relax Ada, I’m not going to break her heart. She’s a cute little thing, I think I could actually learn a thing or two from her, maybe you can learn the trait of being calm.”

When Tommy arrived at your drive, you were wearing a pastel pink dress with white shoes, hair curled with butterfly clips holding strands in place at the sides of your temple, not really much makeup either which was refreshing compared to his past lovers.

He held the door open for you like a gentlemen before whispering in your ear.

“You look dazzling love.” He placed a soft kiss at the side of your head, careful not to ruin all your hard work.

“Thank you Tommy.” Your heart pattered rapidly in your chest, before getting inside and driving off to his pub.

Upon entering there was no one in sight other than the bartender, dressed in a suit and tie but not serving alcohol, instead tea, and multiple trays of desserts.

The windows were dressed with white, sparkling lights, a bouquet of pastel purple roses sitting at a table for two with a pink tablecloth. It had taken him hours to track the flowers down but he had noticed the stickers of them decorating your notebook in the library.

“I presumed you didn’t drink so I went with something else, I hope you don’t mind. Let’s take a seat shall we?” The bartender approached taking your white, dress jacket before leading you toward the table.

Pulling out the chairs for you both, Tommy nodded and winked at the man having another surprise up his sleeve for later on in the night.

“Tommy, this-this is beautiful you didn’t have to do all this for me.” He nodded agreeing that he didn’t have to, but he was determined to make you his girl, he wasn’t going to fuck this up.

“No, but I wanted to. You seem like a sweet girl, and I want to show you that I mean that.” The bartender approached, introducing himself as “Harold”, before offering a cup of tea and a course before dessert, to which you obliged nodding kindly before carrying on conversation.

“So why me? Surely you have girls fawning over you all the time.” Tommy chuckled, thanking you for the compliment before filling your tea cup for you.

“Those girls only want me for my money, not love. When i tell you the women out there today, most women, not you might I clarify, only want two things Y/N. Money and sex.” You choked on your tea from how straightforward he was, his hands rushing up to ensure you were alright. God you felt embarrassed.

Then again you never had money, you were never confident enough to even approach a man for sex let alone accept an offer for an actual date. You were always quiet, submissive and introverted yet in the short amount of time you knew Tommy, he didn’t scare you. He didn’t make you feel like you were less because of your unique way of dressing or acting. He made you feel comfortable around him.

“Well I can assure you, I’m not most girls, I mean look at me.” You looked down insecurely, chuckling awkwardly until you felt Tommy’s hand beneath your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I am and I like what I see Y/N.” Chills rushed down your spine when your eyes met his piercing blue gaze. He hadn’t blinked, he hadn’t looked away from you. He was serious, causing the butterflies to flutter once more, and that anxious first date jitters set in.

“Tell me your deepest, darkest secrets that no one else knows and I’ll tell you mine.” The first course arrived, a buttered noodle plate with a creamy vodka tomato sauce, laced with what smelled like parmesan on the top. It looked delicious and Tommy insisted you take the first bite.

“I um- I have imaginary friends. I know it sounds childish and probably crazy but I was bullied a lot for it in school.” Tommy simply shrugged, un phased by this confession.

“Nothing wrong with that. Sometimes imaginary friends are what we need in life to help get us through a stressful day.” He hadn’t laughed, he hadn’t made a joke about it, instead carrying on eating with the meal set out before him, enjoying his time with you.

It was refreshing to not feel like you were some kind of reject in society. Finishing off your cup of tea, Tommy refilled it from the kettle, taking note of how much sugar you’d used, definitely a dessert girl. He had the right idea.

“What about you Tommy?” Oh, now it was his turn, perhaps he should have thought this through more as this is typically where the women would pretend they didn’t care and it would turn into some kind of argument down the road but, he didn’t hold back.

“I’ve killed a man before. Multiple men actually.” At first you were taken aback, but reminded yourself he hadn’t judged you from your secret and you could argue yours was much less violent, nor a crime but you could tell by Tommy’s character judgement was the last thing he needed. He needed someone to understand him, understand his ways and why he chooses to stay in this life.

“Someone hurt you haven’t they? Not a past love, not a family member but an experience.” Tommy stopped eating, folding his hands, eyebrows raising with surprise as to how fast you were to pin the tail on him.

“Given the state of the economy, and violence. I want to say military. Sometimes we often find it difficult to move away from past negative experiences, instead searching for something similar because you miss not necessarily the feeling, but the actions of being in a position of power, to feel like you have control over it. So you found something else but a way to make you money while shielding your true emotions. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, especially if they are bad people. Don’t forget that Tommy.” Tommy was too stunned to speak, instead watching you finish your plate and motioning for Harold to take it away and bring out dessert.

Tommy had never heard a woman justify his ways in such a logical way, that he hadn’t felt like a terrible man for once in his life. It was right then and there as he watched you wipe away the sauce from your lips with a napkin that he was falling astoundingly, quickly in love with you. Something he hadn’t felt since his first girlfriend.

His lip quirked up in a slight smile when Harold brought dessert over, a mixture of different freshly baked goods on small metallic trays.

There was yellow cake, brownies, soufflés, a mixture of a variety of cookies and small cupcakes with adoring designs.

You had tried every singular one, not at all hiding your true self from Tommy.

The topics had changed to lighter ones. Him explaining the good memories he had of his sister chasing rats with a revolver, the times him and his brother would sit at the dock of a lake fishing, sometimes stealing the others fish causing fights. You bringing up how drawing and coloring were always a passion, sometimes even reading children’s books because of the art and whimsical stories that always had a life lesson while still filled with humor. Tommy even asked to see you drawings and offered to sit down and color with you when he wasn’t busy with nonsense meetings.

Things carried on well, you chatted for hours upon hours, Harold eventually falling asleep with his head on the bar, Tommy joking about what a bloke he was.

He retrieved your jacket, placing it over your shoulders while pulling a velvet box from the inside of his coat.

“I know it’s only a first date but, I saw it and thought you may like it.” He opened the box revealing a diamond necklace, decorated with a pink gemstones butterfly in the middle of it. Not too flashy, not too big, exactly what you liked.

“Oh Tommy! I love it.” He circled around you, placing the expensive accessory around your neck as you held your hair to the side, biting on your lip from the overwhelming happiness accompanied by the warmth of your heart.

“I have outstanding expectations when it comes to gifts. I don’t give them often but when I do, it means that person is special. Will I see you again? I hope I didn’t scare you off love.” He brushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear, knuckles shaving over your cheek.

“On one condition. You attend a tea party with my friends.” Tommy pursed his lips nodding.

“Then a second date we shall have. Perhaps tomorrow afternoon?” Your eyebrows raised, a kind smile etching over your delicate features.

“Eager are we?”

“I know what I want, and I am determined to keep you right under my arm. Do I have permission to kiss my sweet baby girl?” You nodded excitedly, but patiently.

His hands cupped your cheeks gently, head inclining down to your level, as his lips moved closer to yours, your heart now beating violently fast until his lips landed on yours. He tasted of the cherry soda he had, with a mixture of carrot cake and tobacco. Such a unique taste that was intoxicating when his partially chapped, yet velvet lips pressed against yours in an enchanting lock, making you feel complete. Your heart swooned magically, you felt like you were in heaven as you matched his movements before he pulled away, those crystal, intimidating eyes softening when he smiled. Something Tommy didn’t do often until now.

#ranaewrites #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinders #Tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #Thomas shelby x you

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writingroom21 · 3 months

Text

Letters To Your Lover

Pairing: rafe x reader

Summary: After moving into a new place together, Rafe finds your old middle school diary. Along with it the thousands of love letters to your middle school crush.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up), orgasim denial, Rafe being an idiot, let me know if I missed any

Wc: 1K

“What the hell is this?”

Rafe burst into the living room holding a little bound notebook. The two of you just moved in together after dating for a year and a half. You were in the middle of unpacking the kitchen boxes as he was in the bedroom going through both of your boxes. That's when he found the little book at the bottom of one of your boxes.

Curiosity got the best of him and he had to take a look. At first everything was fine. Some notes from when you were in middle school. Then as he kept going he noticed a shift, it started to become a diary a few pages in. Stories of your days painted on the page for him to take a glimpse of your childhood.

His smile faded when he found the first letter. A little note to your crush that seemed to be never ending. Letter after letter gushing about some kid you were obsessed with. Realistically he knows that this was middle school you, the two of you weren't even friends until Junior year of highschool.

There’s no logical reason for him to be so upset about some old crush you had. Then he thinks about the fact you kept them. He looks at the pages, imprinting the letters to memory. He can’t shake the feeling that this is who you really want, there’s no other explanation as to why you would still have these.

Dear pretty boy,

Today you smiled at me in the hall and it made the butterflies in my stomach flutter. I wish you would fully notice me. I would do anything for you to actually feel the same way about me. But it’s okay, I can wait.

Hey pretty boy,

Your eyes are so pretty, they have become my favorite color. The way you smile is so bright and I wish I could make you that happy. Everyday I wake up hoping this will be the day you notice me. Maybe tomorrow will be the day, maybe not. All I know is that deep down we are meant for each other.

The list goes on, note after note. It disgusts him to think that you even call him that. That’s your special nickname for him and here it is used for another guy. His anger gets the best of him and now he’s standing in front of you. Holding the book in your face as you give him a confused look.

“Umm a diary?” He scoffs and throws it on the counter behind you. “Yeah, one filled with love letters.” It clicked in your head that he read it and saw all the cringy letters you wrote. “Oh god you read all of those? I'm so embarrassed right now.” You have got to be kidding him. You’re embarrassed because he read them and not over the fact you kept something for another person.

“God I knew you liked being a slut but really keeping this shit is something else. Just thought I wouldn’t find this.” What is he even going on about? It’s something you did as a child. “Rafe.” He does let you continue your sentence. “Get on your knees right now.” He’s unbuckling his belt as you sink to the floor.

Whipping out his dick, he starts to stroke it as you open your mouth for him. This isn’t the first time he’s punished you like this. He finds it amusing to watch the tears pool up in your eyes as you try not to choke on him. Without much care he shoves himself into your waiting mouth, touching the back of your throat before retreating. The cycle continues, he brutally face fucks you in the middle of the kitchen.

The sounds of your choked moans and gags fill up the room. Tears are falling down your cheeks only fueling him. “Maybe next time you’ll think about not writing to someone else. Fucking dumbass catching your attention.” Wait, is this what it’s all about? The letters being to someone else? God this man could be dumb.

Just before he’s about to cum he pulls out and grips your hair to tug you up. “Come on, bend over. I’m only cumming in your pussy.” He manhandles you over the counter and pulls your shorts along with your panties down. You are already soaked from sucking him off so he easily slid right in. “Wuch a wet fucking pussy. You just love when you suck me off don’t you sweetie. My little cock drunk whore.” You moan loudly at his words.

His pace gets faster if that’s even possible, thrusting hard into you. “Who do you belong to?” Rafe has always been possessive but never in the bedroom. Something about reading your silly crush letters just set him off. He knows you liked other people but in his brain he was the only one you ever wanted. Seeing it aimed at someone else is like torture, even if it was from years ago.

His thrust gets more intense, ready to cum any minute. “Come on, tell me.” he delivers a hard smack to the globe of your ass. “You baby. Always going to be you.” Being satisfied with hearing you agree that you did it for him. Like an automatic response he was cumming right after your sentence ended.

The two of you stay there for a second, not really moving. Reluctantly he pulls out and slides your pants back up. Here’s the part of your punishment that you hate, orgasm denial. It’s known that anything he gives you is taken like a champ, finding pleasure in the pain. But this, he figured out how much you hate being denied an orgasm early on. That’s his favorite form of punishment.

“You know those letters were about you right?” You are still bent over the counter, forehead rested on it. He tenses behind you. “What?” You turn around and look at him, smiling at the dumbstruck look on him. “Those corny letters were about you dumbass. Had this huge crush on you back then.”

With no words he gives you a kiss and throws you over his shoulder. “What are you doing?” you giggle as he walks towards the bedroom. “We have a new bed to break in and it seems like I owe you a few orgasm’s as an apology” How could you argue with that? The rest of the night was spent wrapped in each other's arms, forgetting about the pile of boxes scattered around.

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe x you #obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #outer banks smut

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luvgavii · 3 days

Text

color me jealous - (pg8)

summary: jealous pedri featuring rúben mf dias ;) (model!reader)

dedicated to all the pedri girls <3

You were smiling at your phone while you sipped on the expensive champagne, replaying your Instagram story over and over again, the imagine you posted of the flowers your boyfriend sent to your dressing room before your modelling show never failing to spread a smile to your face. But of course, your happy moment had to be interrupted.

Turning on your heels, a strong scent of perfume met your nose as two arms wrapped tightly around you, the elder woman air kissing your cheeks.

“you were absolutely beautiful up there, y/n!” The lady, one of whom dresses you wore tonight spoke in an elegant voice yet thick accent you could only recognise as french.

“thank you! the dress was beautiful,” you smiled brightly, the woman giving your hands a squeeze, whispering another few rounds of praises before disappearing somewhere in the gallery to mingle with the rest of the stuck up, posh people. You knew you had to join them, but your thoughts were filled with one person only.

You looked around, your eyes scanning every table, every single corner of the big gallery for Pedri, yet you could not spot him anywhere.

A frown crept to your face, a thousand thoughts filling your mind.

‘did he leave early?’

‘why would he leave before coming up to you, kissing you and telling you he’s proud of you?’

‘maybe he had a football emergency?’

‘football emergency this late?’

“I saw Pedri outside taking a phone call a few minutes ago,” the familiar voice of Rúben Dias came from behind you, making your eyes widen as you whipped your head around, meeting Rúben’s warm smile and eyes.

“Rú? What are you doing here?” You asked, a chuckle escaping your lips as you went in to hug the tall man.

Rúben laughed, wrapping his arms around you before speaking, “As if I’d miss out on seeing you on that runway,” his smile could almost reach his ears as he looked down at you.

While any other girl would absolutely melt under Rúben’s eyes, you always made sure to keep a respectful distance, first because you had Pedri who was your person in every possible way and second because you didn’t want to fuel into Rúben’s flirting too much. You were loving the attention, though.

“thank you! I appreciate it,” you smiled, you were happy to see him, the last time you two had hung out was a long time ago when you were modelling in England, but the Man City player always seemed to have some interest in you, even before you started going out with Pedri a few months ago.

You and Rúben have always been friendly, sure, he was always playful flirting with you, but whatever attraction you had felt for the portuguese has quickly disappeared when you met Pedri. As soon as Rúben had posted a picture of the two of you at the gala, arms wrapped around your shoulders as your hand rested on his chest, the fans and media went wild.

It didn’t take long for the fans to figure out where the location of the after party of your modelling agency took place, and while Pedri was on the phone with his manager, he couldn’t help the frown on his face when the fans a few feet away were chanting Rúben Dias’ name.

You met Pedri almost six months ago when your best friend insisted on going to a Barcelona game, and while you didn’t know much about football at the time, your interest was quickly growing when you saw the man who wore number 8. With the help of a friend of a friend, who happened to be married to one of the players, you stuck around long enough to meet them after the game and you and Pedri became inseparable ever since.

He was confused as to why in the world there were people holding Man City jerseys, chanting the name of another football player, until he checked Instagram and saw the photo that was now on every gossip page. People were speculating, asking if you and him had broken up so short after hard launching your relationship and Pedri hated that more than he liked to admit. He hated being in the spotlight with things like these but he hated even more the way Rúben fucking Dias held his arm around you.

Back inside, you were laughing at whatever Rúben had said, your head falling back and your nose scrunching in that adorable way Pedri always said he adores.

Pedri, Pedri, Pedri, Pedri, your mind repeated over and over again.

Your eyes met across the room, his brown eyes softening when your gazes locked. His eyes hid some kind of harshness in them, and you could immediately tell that there was something bothering him, and that something happened to start with an ‘R’ and end with an ‘úben’.

While it was morally wrong to fuel Pedri’s jealousy, you couldn’t help yourself and keeping your boyfriend on his toes wouldn’t hurt.

Your palm pressed against Rúben’s bicep as you leaned up to whisper something in his ear, Pedri’s eye twitching while he watched from afar, wondering what the hell you could’ve said that got Rúben smiling so brightly. He clenched the glass of whiskey harder in his hands until his knuckles turned white and for a second Pedri considered calling Gavi to help him commit murder, knowing his best friend would definitely help dig away the body.

“you’re really trying to tick Pedri off, huh?” Rúben laughed, making you chuckle and making Pedri picture his murder in graphic detail.

“he’s really sweet, I like it when he gets a bit rough and jealous sometimes,” you laughed, shaking your head at Rúben, your eyes meeting the familiar chocolate brown orbs.

“what, like, throw you to the wall rough?” Rúben raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t help the smile that spread to his lips.

“no, not like that,” you laughed knowing you were not about to discuss your sex life with Rúben, at the after party of your show.

“mi amor?” you heard the soft, familiar voice calling out for you, both you and Rúben turning to see Pedri.

He looked almost sad, and you couldn’t help the pain in your chest when you saw that disappointed glimmer in your boyfriend’s eyes which was probably because you barely got to see him after the show. The quicky in your dressing room before hitting the runway was good tho.

“can I talk to you for a second?” Pedri dragged his voice, his eyes falling from Rúben to you, not caring how rude the other football player might consider him, “alone.”

You nodded and bid Rúben goodbye, thanking him for coming. Pedri was still a golden retriever, so even if he was slightly pissed off because you paid so much attention to Rúben, he still shook his hand.

“looking forward to that friendly,” Rúben said with a slight tease in his voice, making Pedri clench his jaw, he barely recognized himself, he was never this jealous.

“I’m looking forward to rearranging your jaw—“ Pedri muttered under his breath as you and him walked away, his words caused you to laugh and hit his shoulder.

“can you not? he was nice to you,” you chuckled, stopping in a secluded spot in the gallery.

“by flirting with you all night? damn, we have different definitions for ‘nice’,” Pedri huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked you in the eyes.

Jealousy, rage and so much love and affection was in them. No matter how much you annoyed him, Pedri never seemed to be able to lash out at you and that was the greenest flag you could think of.

“you did that on purpose didn’t you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow when you smiled cheekily, your arms wrapping around his waist and your chin resting on his chest, “you’re so annoying,” Pedri mumbled when he realised all that overly friendly stuff with Rúben was an act.

“you love meee,” you chuckled, laughing at Pedri’s narrowed eyes, knowing he was either plotting your murder or thinking of how to get you back.

His lips curled into a grin, his nose rubbing against yours as he spoke against your lips, “too much, mi estrella.”

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lonely-cowboy · 9 months

Text

chasing rainbows

pairing: connor (rk800) x f!reader

summary: you recently learned that connor has only ever seen the world in one color. gutted at the thought of such a colorless world, you decide to help him see the beauty of the world. only he doesn't care about the world. he only cares about you.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: nothing major, but lowkey a mess bc this is my first longer-ish fic, reader is really embracing her y/n moment, connor is so ooc it's kinda insane but i love him so whatever, they're both really confused about their feelings until they're suddenly not

author's note: i'm replaying dbh as one does bc i was sad and missed connor AND I'M LITERALLY FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE THIS PLAYTHROUGH?? my first playthrough was so nice and sweet and silly so now i'm trying to get other endings BUT I'M NOT STRONG ENOUGH FOR ALL THE EMOTIONAL DAMAGE?? anyway, my solution (as always) was to write happy connor and some grumpy hank yay! yes i did spend the first 1k words talking about literal colors, ignore that

masterlist ⟡ requests

Work was never the place to do work. That was something you learned from Hank after working under him for years.

Sitting at your desk that was situated across from Hank and Connor, you decided to ignore your terminal and the case report it displayed. You’d get to it eventually. Eventually. Besides, you were confident that you would be able to finish it relatively quickly.

Instead, you were tiredly flipping through a book of color swatches. Your gaze flitted across endless pages, darting from color to color as you searched for something eye-catching. In your recent efforts to make your apartment feel more homely, you decided it was time to add an accent wall, you just needed the right color. Obviously, the precinct was the best place to be color searching.

By the time you reached the end of the swatch booklet, you had only found two colors that interested you. At least then it would be easier to make a decision. You eyed the olive and plum swatches like you would a homicide suspect, trying your best to picture them in your apartment. You pursed your lips in thought, staring at the colors for so long that you could’ve sworn you were going cross-eyed.

“Detective?” Connor called, your eyes snapping to meet his. “Are you alright?”

“Actually, no, I’m not,” you answered with an exaggerated sigh, trying to sound as hopeless as possible. “I’m having quite the dilemma.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?” he asked.

The sincerity in his voice made your heart melt. He always showed such care for you. Sometimes you wondered if it was just another part of his social programming, but somehow, you knew it wasn’t. Connor genuinely did care about you, even when it was just your inability to pick a paint color. You almost felt bad for teasing him. Almost.

“I just can’t for the life of me decide on a paint color,” you said, glancing up at him with that shit-eating grin he was unfortunate to know so well.

Connor’s pleasant smile collapsed into a disappointed frown once he realized he had succumbed to your teasing.

“Saw that coming from a mile away,” Hank grumbled.

“You can help too, Lieutenant!” you said in an excessively cheerful tone, just to annoy Hank. “It’s not like you’re doing anything important.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you, kid” Hank sighed, turning his chair to face you fully. Work was never the place to do work.

With both Connor and Hank focused on you, you slid the two color swatches across your desk. Hank leaned forward with mild interest, nodding his head to himself as he considered both choices. Connor mimicked Hank, leaning forward and furrowing his brows at the sight of the swatches.

After a long moment of deliberation, Hank finally said, “Green.”

You nodded in approval as Connor looked at Hank with what could only be described as pure confusion. He then turned back to the colors before looking at you with an unsettled expression.

“I don’t understand,” Connor murmured. “These colors are the same.”

You and Hank stared at Connor in bewilderment. Maybe you could understand it if the colors were different shades of the same color and androids just had a poor sense of color differentiation. But these swatches weren’t even remotely close in color. There was nothing similar about them at all.

You and Hank exchanged a look of confusion. Maybe this was Connor’s attempt at a joke. No, he had made jokes before, and they were genuinely funny. Especially the ones that poked fun at Hank.

“Connor,” you started. “What do you mean?”

“They’re the same,” Connor repeated with a shrug, looking between you and Hank like he didn’t understand what he was missing. And he obviously didn’t understand.

“One is olive, one is plum,” you said.

“Green and purple,” Hank offered rather unhelpfully.

Connor only shrugged again, still unable to differentiate the two.

“Does anything look different than normal?” you questioned.

“No,” Connor replied simply.

Was it possible for androids to be colorblind? The idea baffled you. The only way Connor could be colorblind was if he was programmed to be that way. Why would he be programmed to not see color?

“Can you… I don’t know… describe what things look like to you?” you asked unsurely. Was that too abstract of a thought for an android? It was already too abstract for you. “Does everything look the same color?”

Connor considered your question, eyes narrowed as he glanced around the precinct. Hank looked at you like you were crazy for wanting to get to the root of this. Maybe you were.

“I… I suppose it all appears relatively similar,” Connor said with equal uncertainty.

You frowned at that. The world must have seemed so… well, sad to Connor. You hated the thought of his world being limited to a single color. He deserved to see the world for what it really was. He deserved so much… If you could at least give him this one thing, you would be satisfied.

“Do you want to change that?” you proposed.

“I admit, I would be curious,” Connor replied.

Immediately, you jumped up from your desk chair and started putting your coat on. Connor took that as a sign to do the same, rising from his chair to stand beside you.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Hank interjected. “Where do you two think you’re going?”

“To help Connor, obviously,” you replied with a bratty eye roll.

“That has nothing to do with work, kid, sit down,” Hank retorted, preferring that the two of you stayed with him so that he didn’t have to suffer alone.

“This has everything to do with work,” you countered like the typical asshole Hank knew you as. “Don’t you realize all the ways this probably inhibits Connor’s work? I mean, picture a typical crime scene. There are probably so many details he’s missing because he can’t fucking see color!”

“Actually,” Connor remarked. “I speculate that my limited color sensory was included in an effort to keep me focused on my investigations and avoid any distractions–”

“Connor,” you intervened, turning to give him a stern look.

“Yes, Detective?”

“Shut up.”

Immediately, Connor sealed his lips shut and pressed them into a thin line. You adored it when he listened to you.

You turned your attention back to Hank, flashing that brilliant smile that told him you weren’t going to listen to a single fucking thing he said. He sighed grumpily at the sight of it, turning back to his desk with a shake of his head.

In the absence of any other objections, you grabbed Connor’s hand and led him out of the precinct. You wondered if he could see the vibrant blush that coated your cheeks at the intimate contact. You hoped not.

He did.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Are you sure about this?” you questioned hesitantly.

In the middle of your living room, you stood in front of Connor with his new occipital unit in hand. You held it gingerly as if the slightest touch would break it. Although it was a lot easier to purchase biocomponents than you had expected. If it were to break, you would only have to walk three or so blocks to buy a new one.

You looked at Connor worriedly while he stood patiently. You were far, far from any kind of engineer. You had absolutely zero experience when it came to replacing android biocomponents. No matter how many times Connor reassured you, you still stressed at the thought of making a mistake. He promised it was easy, but how could changing biocomponents be anywhere close to easy?

“You can do it, I promise,” Connor murmured encouragingly.

His hand came up to encircle your wrist, tugging your hand forward gently. Your cheeks heated at the contact, making you aware of just how close the two of you were. You glanced away bashfully as you were overwhelmed by butterflies. When you returned your attention to Connor, you watched in awe as the skin around his right eye peeled away, revealing the natural white plastic. Connor’s eyes flicked across your face nervously, worried that you might be disturbed. But to you, it was like seeing a new and vulnerable side to Connor, one that you very much enjoyed.

As you reached for his current occipital unit, you froze with your brows furrowed. Your apartment was far from an interesting sight. There wasn’t much to look at, your apartment still lacking a homely feeling. Damnit, you really needed that accent wall.

“Come on,” you said without explanation.

You moved to leave your apartment after gently placing the two new occipital units into your bag. Slugging it over your shoulder, you waited at the door for Connor to follow. Connor stared after you, the white plastic disappearing.

“Come on,” you repeated, gesturing for him to follow.

Connor followed without a second thought. God, it really was so endearing when he listened.

You led Connor out of your apartment building and across the street to the nearby park. You wandered aimlessly for what felt like hours, trying to find the most scenic view for Connor to enjoy as his first sight.

At last, you settled on a bench situated in front of a little pond. Tall, stooping trees crowded the pond with just enough space between their branches to see the bright sky above. You were glad to be enjoying this moment in the fall when the leaves were the perfect shades of orange.

You stood with your hands on your hips, eyeing the view with a skeptical glint. Connor would be able to see a good range of colors from here. This place would do just fine.

Pulling Connor along, you sat him down on the bench by lightly pressing on his shoulders. Once he was seated with his hands neatly placed along his thighs, you reached for the first occipital unit from your bag.

“Okay,” you said with a determined huff. “Much better view, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, I can’t see it very well,” Connor replied cheekily.

You couldn’t help but smile at that, rolling your eyes at Connor’s teasing. This only meant he had been spending a concerning amount of time around you and Hank. When you looked back at him, you exhaled slowly, “Ready?”

Connor nodded once, revealing the white plastic of his right eye once again. Before pulling it out, you reached forward and pressed a soft hand overtop Connor’s eyes, silently reminding him to keep his eyes closed until you said otherwise. When you pulled your hand away, you were pleased to find that his eyes remained closed.

Your fingertips then pressed against the plastic of Connor’s occipital unit. It popped out easily, allowing you to pull it out slowly and with ease, just as Connor had promised. It was jarring to see him without an eye. Or rather without a whole chunk of his face. You worried you might still mess up, leaving him without half of his face.

But when you pressed the new occipital unit forward, you found that it was just as easy as pulling the old one out. It took a moment to adjust, but the new part quickly shifted to match Connor’s appearance, his freckled skin melting over it and the doe-like shape of his eyes returning. That made you sigh with relief. You just hoped they were still the same beautiful brown you found yourself constantly lost in.

You then did the same with his other eye, quietly applauding yourself for not making a single mistake.

With his occipital units in place, you rounded the bench to stand behind Connor whose eyes remained closed obediently. Standing behind him, you placed your hands over his eyes once again, a giddy smile adorning your lips.

“You ready?” you asked, unable to contain your excitement.

“I think so,” Connor said hesitantly.

“Yeah, you’re ready,” you decided.

Slowly, you pulled your hands away, studying Connor with a sweet smile. You expected him to enjoy the view in silence, looking at every single thing he possibly could. But you were surprised to find that he barely even regarded the view. Instead, he immediately turned to look at you from over his shoulder.

With a tentative hand, he reached out for your hand that rested on the bench’s back. He pulled you gently around the bench so that you stood in front of him. His hand still held your limp hand as he stood to face you. He looked down at you with a small but warm smile, eyes exploring every inch of your face.

The unexpected attention had your heart racing, a nervous heat spreading throughout your body. You clenched your jaw tightly, a jumble of confusing and unwanted emotions consuming your entirety. Not wanting to say anything stupid to ruin… whatever this moment was, you clamped your mouth shut. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander, exploring Connor’s features the same way he did yours.

Connor’s warm touch left your hand, making you frown ever so slightly. But you were immediately comforted as he placed both hands on your cheeks. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles along your cheekbones like they had a mind of their own, relaxing your clenched jaw. His eyes locked with yours, never once blinking in fear that he would miss something if he did.

You practically forgot how to speak. You forgot how to do everything. It was a hassle to recall how you were even supposed to breathe. The only thing you could do was stare at Connor with a dreamy glimmer in your eyes.

“Your eyes are really pretty,” Connor mumbled.

You swallowed timidly before speaking, “Thank you.”

“You’re…” Connor began before his LED circled red.

Your gaze flickered to his LED, watching intently as it continued to flash red. That was a poor move on your part. Having broken the intense eye contact, Connor glanced away from you, looking straight ahead and dropping his hands from your cheeks like he suddenly awoke from a trance. Focused on the horizon, Connor’s LED spiraled yellow several times before returning to its typical blue.

His sudden change in attitude only added to your confusion of emotions. You took a pained step back, eyes falling to the ground.

“I didn’t expect the leaves to be this color,” Connor commented casually.

You cleared your throat and turned your back to Connor to focus on the leaves. You didn’t want him to see your embarrassed flush, though you were sure he already did.

“They’re not always this color,” you muttered. “Only in the fall. In the warmer months, they’re green.”

You caught a glimpse of Connor tilting his head, his nose scrunched with intrigue. He tried to visualize what that would look like, but having only seen one color since his creation, he didn’t seem to understand.

“Green like… like the grass,” you clarified, pointing to an open patch of grass.

“I’d like to see that. Perhaps you can bring me back here in the spring,” Connor hummed. When you didn’t say anything, he continued. “Are there other colors to see?”

“So many more,” you answered, flashing Connor a small (and slightly awkward) smile.

Connor trailed along beside you as you strolled through the park. Still too embarrassed to look at him, you also took the opportunity to admire the beauty of the park’s striking colors. You were ignorant to the way Connor watched you contently out of the corner of his eye. Of all the wonderfully colorful sights, you were by far his favorite. You were the only thing he could look at.

“Which one is your favorite?” Connor asked as you slowed your walk, having walked the entirety of the park. “Color, I mean.”

You stopped to consider his question, looking around at the abundance of colors. They were all so beautiful in their own ways that it was difficult to choose. But then your eyes landed on Connor, and it seemed so clear.

“Blue,” you replied definitively.

You felt foolish for your choice, but you couldn’t help that there was some truth to it. Blue had always been a pleasant color, but after knowing Connor, it took on a different meaning. When Connor’s LED was blue, it indicated he was happy. Or at least satisfied. You liked to see him when he was happy. It eased your mind knowing he was content. Because of him, it was now a color you associated with joy.

Though you didn’t say anything, you looked away flustered, wondering if Connor could somehow read your mind. You wouldn’t be at all surprised if he could.

“Do you have a favorite?” you inquired quickly.

Connor pursed his lips, mimicking you as he looked around the park. His head then snapped down to look at you, eyes immediately finding yours. He cocked his head curiously the way he always did. The way that made you so weak you could barely stand.

“What color are your eyes?” Connor wondered.

Your eyes widened, eyebrows arched as if you had misheard him. But you knew you hadn’t.

The way he spoke so nonchalantly drove you insane. How could he be so casual about something like this? Did he know what he was doing to you? Was he doing it on purpose? What did any of this mean? Was there any chance at all that he could care for you the same way you did him?

“Uh…,” you mumbled, stuttering out your eye color.

Connor nodded thoughtfully at your answer, his charming eyes still latched onto yours.

“Then that’s what I would say,” said Connor. “Your eyes are my favorite.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly, clueless as to how on earth you were supposed to respond to that.

The corners of Connor’s lips quirked into an affectionate smile. He arched his brows at you like he expected something more than just oh.

Your mind was racing for anything to say. Were you just supposed to ignore Connor’s loving words that felt far too much like a subtle confession? Were you supposed to confront it head-on? Neither of those options sounded good.

“Thanks,” you whispered. “I like them too.”

As you cursed yourself endlessly for saying the stupidest fucking thing to come to mind, Connor’s grin widened. A quiet laugh escaped his lips, one that you didn’t hear through the blaring alarms screaming “why are you such an idiot?” in your head.

“That was stupid,” you groaned, deciding it was better to admit it than ignore it. “But… thank you. You… you have pretty eyes too.”

“Thank you, Detective,” Connor said cheerfully.

You moved to continue walking with Connor close at your side. Maybe you were crazy (there was always a good chance of that), but you could’ve sworn he was standing considerably closer than before. Your arm swung at your side, his arm brushing against yours in the slightest. It didn’t matter how insignificant that touch was, it meant something to you. Maybe it meant something to Connor too.

You had been walking in complete silence until Connor spoke, his words making you trip and fumble and scream and cry and scream and die a little.

“You’re pretty to look at. All of you, not just your eyes,” he said, shooting you an adorably attractive wink for emphasis.

You stopped dead in your tracks, Connor trailing ahead until he noticed you were no longer beside him. You stared at him with a far too serious expression, one that made him doubt his words. How could he be so casual about something so serious? Did he actually feel this way, or was it all a heartless prank?

“Your words are really fucking with me, Connor, you know that?” you said.

“I know,” Connor nodded with a cocky edge. God, he really was spending way too much time with you and Hank to be this snarky.. “Your heart has been racing the entire time we’ve been together.”

“So you’re purposefully torturing me?”

“I wouldn’t consider this torture. But, yes. I suppose I’ve been… holding this over you.”

“Well, stop that!”

Connor flashed you a cheeky grin as he approached you again. His hands moved to cup your reddened cheeks, warming them with his soft touch.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t do this to you,” Connor said fondly. “Not when you’ve shown me how beautiful the world is… How beautiful you are.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, trying to hide the smile that crept along your lips.

“You’ve told me before that I’m terrible at shutting up, I don’t see why I should start now.”

You and Connor wore matching smirks as you tried to best the other, subconsciously moving closer to each other.

“Oh, so you don’t want to shut up and kiss me?” you parried.

“When did those words ever leave my mouth?”

“When did you get so cocky?”

“When I realized I could have you.”

You had nothing to say after that. No witty remark or snide comment. All you could offer was a gentle smile.

Connor leaned forward, his nose brushing against yours. He was so close that you could feel his breath– so real for an android– against your lips.

“Pretty smile too,” he murmured, his lips grazing yours.

“It’d look even prettier if you actually kissed me,” you whispered.

Connor knew he couldn’t win this battle of wits. He honorably accepted his loss, knowing it was the only way to kiss you. You beamed into his kiss, proud of yourself for being so stubborn. That was quickly lost on you when you felt the softness of Connor’s lips. You indulged in his touch, leaning forward against his chest to feel as much of him as possible.

Connor pulled away sooner than you would have liked, resting his forehead against yours. A breath of a laugh escaped his lips when he saw that desperate glint in your eyes. He pulled back to look you in the eye after pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. His thumb brushed under your eye, lost in the color he loved so dearly.

“You’ll always be my favorite sight.”

#detroit become human #connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh connor #connor rk800

606 notes · View notes

courtforshort15 · 2 years

Text

Green is the Color

Pairing: Matt Murdock x FemReader

Word Count: 7,200

Summary: Karen Page looks flawless next to Matt in a way that you don’t. Insecurities and jealousies were bound to pop up at some point.

Trigger warnings: None. Just some angst with a happy ending.

Masterlist

You're jealous of Karen.

Beautiful, smart, sweet Karen who has never been anything but kind to you. Leggy, slender, blonde Karen who catches eyes effortlessly wherever she goes. Determined, self-sacrificing, truth-seeking Karen who seems genuinely interested in what you have to say, who seems honestly happy to see you whenever you join them out as a group.

And though you're the one who sleeps in Matt's bed more often than not, though you're the one he whispers soft, sweet things to while he holds your hand as you walk home, though you're the one he calls when he's hurt or happy or needing you with him, you can't help but be jealous of her.

They look flawless together. She's light where he is dark. She is petite in everything but height, and he is made of muscle and broad shoulders. She is sweet and open where he is charming and dangerous when you truly look at him.

They are beautiful, standing together laughing loudly, and you are not the only one who notices.

"God, some people have all the luck, don't they?" A woman next to you at the bar says to her friend. It’s your turn to buy the drinks for the group, and you're waiting patiently as Josie helps another patron. The conversation catches your ear, and you're not exactly surprised when you notice they're talking about Matt and Karen. It's not the first time you've heard something of this sort.

"They'd have such beautiful babies," the other woman replies, and the sound of her voice and the words being said pierces into your skin. "They look so good together it almost hurts. I hate them."

The women gather their drinks with shared laughter and walk away, leaving you to yourself while you wait on Josie. Your cheeks burn in something akin to shame and sadness, the realization that you'll never look as good next to him as Karen does. And though Matt has told you time and time again how much he loves you, it's not the first shred of doubt you've felt.

Hearing someone else echo the things that have lived inside your heart for so long drives a sharp blade into your chest, and you struggle as you work to maintain your breathing, knowing Matt will pick up on the irregularity. You're in a crowded bar and Matt is a few drinks in, so you think you're safe at your current distance away, but the second you join the group, he'll be able to tell that something is off if you don't force yourself to calm down.

With a fake grin that pulls sharply at the corners of your suddenly dry mouth, you thank Josie when she sets your drinks in front of you, and you slowly make your way back over to them where they're playing a game of pool. You set the drinks on the table next to them, and Foggy immediately dives into the beer you've brought over.

Karen thanks you for her drink with a smile, and Matt squeezes your hand in appreciation before he plays the part of an ordinary blind man and pretends to be awful at the game. It's all in good fun for him, though you all know he could whip everyone's ass, and he gasps in fake shock whenever he sinks a ball intentionally that he pretends is unintentional for the benefit of whatever bystander may be nearby.

Matt says something that makes Karen laugh, and she places a hand on his shoulder as he smiles. Matt is your boyfriend, the man you'd gladly spend the rest of your life with, but you suddenly feel like an intruder in your own relationship.

With a grimace you hope no one notices, you toss your drink back, setting the glass loudly back on to the table.

"I think I'm going to call it a night," you tell the group, already turning to grab your purse. Immediately they all protest, asking you to stay for another game, or at least another round of drinks. You try to make the smile on your face look as warm and friendly as it always is, but you know you fail on some level. But in everyone's inebriated state, they all take it as completely genuine.

"Alright, sweetheart," Matt says easily, placing his cue stick in the rack, turning to grab his suit jacket from where it's been tossed over one of the chairs. "We can leave. Are you staying with me tonight? Or do you want me to come over to your place?"

"No, it's totally fine," you object instantly, already taking a few steps away in an effort to distance yourself. "You should stay and have fun."

He waves your protest away with a smile. "We’ve been here for a while already. We can head out.”

You let out a laugh that surprisingly doesn’t sound nearly as fake as it feels. “You guys won a big case today. You deserve to stay out and celebrate.”

“She’s right, Matt!” Foggy calls out from the other side of the table before he takes a long sip of his beer. “We deserve all the alcohol that Josie can provide us with tonight. That case was a nightmare.”

Your laugh is a little more genuine this time, eyeing the way Foggy sways when he puts his beer down. Karen isn’t faring much better, if the flush on her cheeks is anything to go by. “Stay, Matt. I’ll be okay getting home.”

The easy smile has left his face, and he makes his way over to you. You stay rooted to the spot, knowing that rejecting his advancements would tip him off to the fact that something is wrong. There's also the factor that you hate denying him any sort of affection he needs to give or take from you, so you stand still and wait for him. When he’s in front of you, he reaches a hand up and pushes a piece of hair behind your ear, rubbing a finger over your cheekbone with the movement.

“Are you alright?” He asks quietly, his voice meant for only your ears. “I can at least walk you home if you want.”

You turn your head to press a light kiss to the inside of his wrist, unable to deny yourself the warmth that his closeness brings you. “I’m just tired, and I think my stomach is a little off.” This close to you, he should be able to tell a lie from the truth, but the words that leave your mouth are honest enough. You’re tired of feeling inadequate, and your stomach is reeling with the thought of other people seeing what you see when you look at Matt and Karen.

The excuse you’ve given him is completely true, he just doesn’t know the reasons behind them.

“Then I should definitely–”

Smiling slightly, you shake your head. “I’ll take a cab home. I want you to stay with your friends and have a good time. You earned it."

Matt sighs and reluctantly agrees to let you leave without him, but not before pulling you in close and placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I’ll call you later, alright? If you’re still up, I’ll come over when I’m done tonight.”

“That works,” you say with a small shrug. A small smile slides across his face, and he pulls you in one more time to press his mouth to yours, before he takes a step back and turns to face his friends. You send Foggy and Karen a quick wave and another false smile, before making your way to the door.

You don’t miss the way the two women from before not-so subtly eye you up and down with their eyebrows raised, no doubt finding you lacking for a beautiful man such as Matt, especially when compared to the gorgeous woman that is one Karen Page.

Your cheeks burn again, but you push past the women without a word.

When you’re all settled in bed, you curl your knees up to your chest, yanking your heavy blankets over you in an effort to keep yourself in and the rest of the world out. A few tears cloud your vision, but you squeeze your eyes tightly shut to keep them from slipping out. If Matt were to stop by, he’d smell the salt of the tears, and nothing would stop him from getting an answer out of you for why you were upset.

He’d know if you were lying, no longer distracted by his friends and the loud noise of the bar, and you’d be unable to persuade him to let it go. Feelings would tumble from your mouth unchecked, and he’d either be angry or hurt at your accusations.

…or worse, he’d admit that he feels the way about Karen that the rest of the world has decided he should.

In order to keep that from happening, you turn your phone on do not disturb in an effort to make sure you’re not woken up by his call, hopefully keeping him away for the night if he decides not to disturb your sleep.

You ignore the way your heart twists painfully in your chest.

****************

“That looks awful, Foggy,” you tell him as you step into the office of Nelson, Murdock & Page a month later, eyeing the way his face is peeling from an awful sunburn he’d gotten on a trip to Florida to visit his parents. “Do you need me to go and get some aloe for you?”

Foggy laughs, but immediately winces as the expression on his face pulls at the skin that already looks extremely painful. “I’ve got some in my drawer,” he says, motioning to the bottom part of his desk. “I’ve been told to reapply several times during the day. Thank God I don’t have any clients coming in today. I'll just be here all day working through some case items with Matt.”

“That’s good at least,” you say, walking forward and placing a sandwich on Foggy’s desk before taking a seat in one of their lobby chairs, waiting for Matt to arrive so that you can have lunch with him in his office. You’d picked up sandwiches from his favorite deli, including one for Foggy, knowing Matt won’t have time to go out and meet up with you somewhere today.

“Thanks for bringing this, by the way,” Foggy says with the biggest smile he can offer with the way the skin has tightened on his face. “Though, I’m not quite sure how I’m going to open my mouth wide enough to eat this.”

You send him a sympathetic look. “I can’t imagine. It looks super uncomfortable.”

Foggy snorts. “If I can deal with watching Matt kiss Karen in the hospital that one time, I can deal with this. Now that was uncomfortable.”

Your blood runs cold.

“Matt…kissed Karen?” You ask, heart hammering uncomfortably in your chest, the increased speed sharp and painful as it pounds relentlessly. “When was that?”

Foggy must not hear the way your voice has changed, too busy trying to take a bit of his sandwich. “During the Punisher case. I like…turned to look at them, and bam. A full smack of his lips against hers, and it looked just as uncomfortable for me as it was for them.”

“So this…was a while ago?”

Foggy freezes, finally glancing back up at you, a confused frown on his face. “Matt didn’t tell you?”

You shift in your seat, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, but you're not quite sure if you pull it off. “Tell me what?”

He shakes his head. “I mean, it’s no big deal, really. They only dated for a small period of time, and it’s barely even worth mentioning, to be honest. It was right as Elektra came back into the picture.”

Ah, Elektra.

The woman whose scars you’ve been steadily trying to heal ever since you met him.

“Do you think it would have gone anywhere if Elektra hadn’t come back?” You ask hesitantly, fingernails biting into the palm of your hand. Foggy looks thoughtful.

“I’m not sure,” he says, appearing to think about it. “They definitely liked each other. It could have been something, had either one of them been truthful with each other. To be honest, I kind of thought they would try again after everything with Fisk, but they’ve remained just friends.”

You glance down at your hands, struggling to take a deep breath. When you glance back up, Foggy is frowning heavily.

“Are you okay?”

Forcing a smile on your face, you nod, trying to get rid of the images of beautiful Karen and handsome Matt, standing next to each other and smiling, like they had that night at Josie’s. The picture of them together flashes through your head almost brutally. “Yeah, I’m totally fine. I just didn’t know is all,” you tell him with a shrug of your shoulders. “And I’m super hungry, so I think I’m a little out of it.”

Foggy looks at you, eyes narrowing in consideration, before his face brightens again. “I totally feel that. Like…my life is perpetually split into two sections; eating, or thinking about when I’m going to eat again. My stomach is forever calling out for food.”

You laugh, and while you find what he’s said amusing, it’s not enough to drown out the roaring in your ears. The new knowledge has sent you spiraling, and it’s like every thought you’ve had about the two of them is standing in front of you, taunting you. Matt and Karen had at one point been together. Maybe only for a short period of time, according to Foggy, but feelings had been there, and you can’t help but think that you were possibly the thing that was standing in the way of the universe correcting itself.

Foggy has thankfully turned back to his sandwich, and you pray for the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

Your phone rings, and you pull it out of your purse, grateful for the first time in your life to see your boss’s name flashing across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” her voice greets you, “I know you’re taking your lunch, but is there any way you can come back early? Someone in accounting messed up the data you’ve collected, and I could really use some help getting it sorted back out. It needs to be resubmitted by the end of the day.”

Perfect.

“Yes, I can be there in ten. I’ll see you soon.”

Your boss hangs up, and you’re shoving your phone into your purse as you rise up from your chair. “I have to go, work emergency,” you tell Foggy in explanation as he looks at you questioningly. “Will you give Matt his lunch and tell him I’m sorry I missed him?”

He nods with a small grin, gingerly wiping his mouth with a napkin as he swallows, careful to not rub too hard. His skin really does look painful. “I’ll tell him to give you a call later. He’ll be sad that he didn’t get to spend lunch with you.”

Your heart aches painfully in your chest. You’re sad, too, but right now the relief far outweighs the disappointment. You’re not sure you’d be able to handle sitting across from him right now, insecurities and negative thoughts spreading through your entire body like an uncontrollable wildfire.

Matt has always made your heart pound relentlessly in your chest, the mere thought of him sending you into overdrive. His wide smile. His cocky smirk. His beautiful eyes he only lets a select few see. His soft skin.

But now your heart is pounding for a whole different reason, the anxiety ensnaring you so completely in such a small period of time, and you don’t want him around to witness the fallout that’s bound to happen.

You send one last smile to Foggy, and if he notices the panic and misery in it, he doesn’t say anything.

*****************

The final nail in the coffin happens at a fundraiser Nelson, Murdock & Page had been invited to. The fundraiser was raising money to help underprivileged individuals afford legal counsel when charged with petty crimes, and the firm is happy to attend and donate what they can to the cause.

Matt had asked you to accompany him, wide smile on his face while he told you about the mission and purpose, and you readily accepted his invitation to join. He seemed so eager and excited, and you couldn't have thought of an excuse to justify not going if you tried.

You’d picked out a beautiful dress for the evening. Red and black, an echo of the black he wears out at night, and the red of his sharp lenses, two different personas he puts on for the world. You prefer Matt in sweat pants and a hoodie with large fuzzy socks pulled up mid-shin, but you love all pieces of him, and this dress reminds you of the person he chooses to be for his city.

He’s running late, which is unsurprising, given the long day he’d had in court. He warned you earlier that his work day may run over, but that he’d join the group as quickly as possible.

You enter the fundraiser with Foggy, Karen, and Marci instead, taking in the way the lobby of the museum has transformed into a beautiful layout filled with cocktail tables that are covered with sleek black cloths and lit-up centerpieces. The lighting is low and almost romantic, a soft jazz band is playing on a stage directly ahead, and there are various decorations and balloons in hues of blues and purples.

It’s not necessarily a black-tie event, but people are dressed beautifully as they talk amongst themselves, weaving in and out of the crowd as they greet and strike up new conversations with people who have just walked in. It’s not exactly surprising when an older woman walks up to the group with a smile on her face, arms outstretched for a hug. Your group of lawyers is bound to run into people they know.

“Foggy,” she greets warmly, pulling him in, squeezing him to her. Foggy leans in immediately, beaming at the woman.

“Emily,” he says with a kiss to her cheek. “Always wonderful to see you.” He turns to the rest of the group, arm still around her shoulders. “Everyone, this is Emily Davidson. She is an old friend of the family.”

She smiles broadly at the group, before lifting her face back towards Foggy

“Where’s Matt?” Emily questions, arm still wrapped around his waist after a brief chorus of hellos are said. “I thought he was coming.”

“He’ll be here soon,” Foggy answers easily. He takes a flute of champagne that a waiter hands to him. “This is–”

“Oh, you must be his girlfriend,” she says with a large smile, interrupting Foggy and finally stepping away from him. Her eyes are absolutely lit up with warmth and excitement. “Matt said you’d be here with him.”

But Emily isn’t looking at you. She’s looking at Karen.

Your heart drops.

Of course it’s Karen. It’s always Karen.

“Aren’t you just beautiful,” she gushes, grabbing Karen’s hands in what can only be described as pure joy. “That boy always sure knew how to pick them.”

“I’m not—”

“He says you’ve been together for over a year, right?” She continues, voice carrying over Karen’s immediate objection. Karen gives you a look that is extremely apologetic, cheeks turning red. “None of the other women he’s brought around have stuck. I’m so happy to know someone as sweet looking as you has decided to–”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” Karen finally manages to interrupt, looking deeply uncomfortable as she shifts on her feet. The woman frowns, but Karen removes her hands from hers and gestures towards you with a smile that is kind, but also increasingly awkward.

Emily stares at you for a second, mouth dropping infinitesimally, but she recovers quickly, a wide smile once again lighting up her face. Though she is subtle about it you don’t miss the way her eyes briefly glance up and down, as if sizing you up.

“Oh. It’s so nice to meet you, dear,” she says, taking a step towards you. Her gaze upon you is kind, but more reserved and closed off than it had been with Karen. She seems to be yet another person who expects Matt to have someone as beautiful as Karen on his arm, and the thought causes your throat to go dry and your heart to drop. “You look lovely, too. That dress is stunning.”

You force a smile, and you hate the way it’s appeared on your face more and more these past few weeks. It was once a smile that was meant for the occasional awkward conversation, but lately it’s almost found a permanent home on your face.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” you tell her, hugging her awkwardly when she pulls you in. Your body is full of tension, and your movements feel stiff. She pulls away, taking a step back. She eyes the group once more, the four of you in a semi-circle around her, before mentioning that she has some friends she needs to catch up with. Emily walks away, unaware of the turmoil that is brewing in you.

The air is sweltering around the four of you, and your hand is holding on to your clutch in a grip that would be bruising if it was someone's hand instead.

Karen abruptly turns to you, an hesitant smile on her face, “I–”

“Does anyone know where the bathroom is?” You cut her off, making a show of looking around you, trying to spot one. Your eyes land on one finally, and it’s like a lifeline that’s calling to you. “Oh, there it is. I’ll be back in a few.” Without another word, you turn on your heel and make your way towards the bathroom, shoes clacking loudly on the floor.

You're in a stall before you know it, the bathroom shockingly but thankfully unoccupied. You lock the stall door with shaking hands, begging yourself not to cry as your face crumbles. The last thing you want is to go back out to your friends with red eyes and smeared mascara, so you bite your tongue until it bleeds.

You have to get out of here.

An idea springs up inside your head, and you yank your phone out of your purse, immediately pulling up your message chain with your younger sister.

Text Sent 7:32pm: I need you to call me in fifteen minutes with an emergency.

You hold your breath, praying that your sister responds shortly. It’s always been a code when one of you needs an excuse to get out of something, and you’ve never relied on it the way you’re relying on it now.

Text Received 7:33pm: Is everything okay?

Sighing in relief that she’s answered so quickly, tears still pricking at your eyes, you type out a quick reply.

Text Sent 7:33pm: Not really, but I’ll explain later. Can you call me in a few?

Text Received 7:34pm: Absolutely.

You rejoin your friends with another fake smile, and make an effort to seem as put together as possible. Temporarily shoving your misery aside, you crack a few jokes, laugh at Foggy’s commentary of the people around him, and tap your champagne flute against Karen’s in a funny, random toast, ignoring the way she’s looking at you in concern. You make a show of wondering where Matt is, casually mentioning that he had said he would be arriving soon, craning your neck to glance around the room as if in search for him.

In reality, you’re hoping he’s nowhere near the event, so that you can slip out without a word.

You know you’re being borderline childish with how you’re reacting. It had been an easy mistake on Emily’s part, but it’s once again reinforcing the idea that Matt should be with someone who looks like Karen, at least by society’s standards.

A beautiful man with a beautiful woman. It doesn't matter that he's blind and can't possibly know what his partner looks like; there's still an unfortunate, unspoken rule that says beautiful people belong with other beautiful people.

You're cute, in your own way. But other people don't seem to think it's enough. And while you’d normally be the type of person to flip society the bird, you can only hear the same message so many times before it starts to sink in like a poison with no antidote.

True to her word, your sister calls at the fifteen minute mark, and you feel the way your phone is vibrating in your purse. You pull it out, sending a quick apologetic look to the trio as you take a small step to the side, and answer it.

“Hello?”

“Are you coming over to talk about whatever is going on?” Your sister says in greeting, her dry tone still managing to sound a bit concerned.

“Oh no, are you okay?” You ask in reply, placing a heavy frown on your face. The group is watching you closely, even while they make small talk amongst themselves.

“Did Matt do something?”

“I’m at an event right now,” you say, somehow managing to sound regretful, letting a wince slide across your face. Foggy looks at you, his brow furrowed, as if trying to figure out what's going on. When he wants to be, he's more perceptive than anyone ever gives him credit for. “Can I come by after?”

“Tell whoever’s there that I need stitches or something,” your sister suggests helpfully.

You sigh loudly, shifting your eyes upward in what you hope conveys a small amount of annoyance. “Okay, I’m coming.” You hang up shortly after, turning to the group with an unhappy look across your face. At least that part isn’t necessarily a lie.

“Do you really have to leave?” Karen asks, and while she sounds sympathetic to whatever may have happened on the phone, there’s also a tiny spark of suspicion in her eyes. You ignore it.

“My sister sliced her hand open and probably needs stitches,” you say as an explanation, grimacing. “She asked me to meet her at the hospital. She’s awful with needles and is freaking out. I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.”

Marci gives you a sad smile, and it looks a little too knowing for your taste. She’s the one who knows you the least, and while she’s a part of the friend group by way of Foggy, you don’t know her nearly enough to be overly concerned about whether or not she believes the act.

Foggy and Karen, on the other hand, seem to be a little more cautious with the explanation you’ve given, and you know that if you stay with them much longer, they’ll see right through the agony that’s tearing its way through you, no matter how hard you’re trying to keep it at bay.

“Tell Matt that I’m sorry to have to leave so early,” you say to Foggy as you lean in to give him a hug. Karen hugs you, too, and you try not to flinch from the touch.

Beautiful, lovely Karen. It’s not her fault, you know. But it doesn’t stop the sting.

“You could call him yourself,” Foggy suggests as you move to leave the group. You don’t answer, adrenaline and panic finally sliding through the cracks, and you can’t be there one second more.

You’re crying on your sister’s couch in a set of pajamas she’s leant you forty-five minutes later, bottle of whiskey on the table in front of you, your cell phone once again on do not disturb with a growing collection of missed calls and voicemails.

******************

You stumble back into your apartment the next morning, still dressed in your sister’s pajamas, evening dress bunched over your arm. Your expensive heels hang almost pathetically from your fingers, a reminder of a failed night out, having been replaced by a pair of old flip flops.

“Hey,” a voice says, and you’re not necessarily surprised to see him standing in your kitchen, sipping on a cup of coffee. He looks tired, more tired than you’ve seen in a long time, and you wince, knowing a large part of it is due to you.

“Hey,” you whisper in reply. You set your shoes and dress on your kitchen table, rubbing your eyes tiredly. “What are you doing here?”

Matt’s eyebrows shoot up in slight surprise, mouth parting. “Am I…unwelcome here? Am I intruding?”

“No, of course not,” you say in a rush, disliking the way his beautiful face flashes with something that looks like hurt. “I just…wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“You would have known if you bothered to answer my calls or listen to any of the several voicemails I left last night.”

You hang your head in shame and guilt. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“I had no idea what was going on,” he tells you, placing his coffee cup on the counter and taking a slow step forward. There's a look of concern on his face, though it's buried under a level of irritation and exasperation that seems to be slowly settling in. “You were just…gone.”

“I told Foggy and Karen that my sister–”

“You’re a horrible liar, sweetheart,” Matt says with a laugh that almost sounds bitter. “They knew something was up, and unfortunately I was still too far away to know something had happened to actually do anything.”

“Nothing hap–”

“Did you miss the part where I just said you are a horrible liar?”

Your jaw snaps shut.

“Your sister finally called me back last night after you went to bed, or else I would have had no idea where you were,” Matt says, and he sounds extremely frustrated. “You can’t…you can’t just disappear on me like that.”

You know the way people have just up and left him in the past without a word, you know the way it has continued to leave scars on him, and it makes you feel incredibly guilty. But it doesn't stop the way you begin to also feel defensive, a direct result of the weeks of hurt still flowing through you.

“I’m not a child, Matt,” you tell him in something that could almost be construed as a snap. “You don’t need to know my whereabouts all hours of the day.”

He looks like he’s been slapped and you wince, already regretting the words. “That’s not–you think that’s what this is? Me being clingy? Or–or me trying to control what you do?”

“No–”

“Foggy said you ran out of there last night looking like you were about to burst into tears and all I could do was call and call and call and pray that you were okay. You went to your sister’s place in Jersey because you knew I wouldn’t be able to track you the further away you got, right? That I would have no idea where you were unless someone told me?"

You flinch, you can't help it. “That wasn’t the only rea–”

“And all because a woman mistook Karen as my girlfriend instead of you?” He asks incredulously. “How childish is that?”

It’s your turn to feel like you’ve been slapped. Your cheeks flood in shame, embarrassment, pain. You’re not quite sure how to respond to it, because a part of you knows how childish it had been. But the insecurity is not based on one event, but a series of them, and the chorus of voices in your head that tells you you're not good enough for him has been growing steadily louder since that night at the bar.

Matt’s words have effectively stunned you into silence, and while you open your mouth several times to speak, nothing comes out. Your shoulders sag, and you all but curl into yourself, hugging your arms around your waist in an effort to appear as small as possible.

To take up as little space as possible.

The way Matt is still tense tells you that he had been ready for you to fire something back at him, some sort of rebuttal that he’d easily tear down as he would in court, and when you don’t, he seems confused. His brow furrows as you all but wilt in front of him.

You watch as a flicker of realization passes over his face, and you cringe. He's caught on, and you don't like it.

“It actually…it actually hurt you,” he says, and his voice is startlingly quiet, a sharp contrast to the way he had sounded so heated and frustrated just moments before. “Didn’t it?”

You give a noncommittal shrug, shoulders rising and falling ever so slightly, but otherwise don’t have any sort of reaction.

Matt licks his lips, and your eyes can’t help but follow the motion even in your misery. “Why…why did that upset you so much?” You shrug your shoulders again, but he shakes his head, as if refusing your lack of a response. “No-no, don’t do that. You can’t have a reaction like that and expect me to just not say anything about it, to not want to know what’s wrong or what I can do to fix it. Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Your eyes are welling with tears before you can even try to stop them, and with a quiet whine, you cover your face in your hands.

You hear Matt swear, and before you can even take your first shuddering breath, he is wrapped around you. Your head is tucked under his chin, a hand cradling the back of your skull to keep you pressed into him, the other wrapped around your back. You leave your hands covering your face, unwilling to tear down the barrier at the moment. You’re barely holding things in as it is, and the thought of exposing yourself to him completely right now is terrifying.

He’s whispering soothing words into your ear, the same things he always tells you when he knows you’re upset, and while the words take the edge off, they’re not a match for the misery that’s got you shredded by its claws.

Eventually he takes a step back, though his body is still pressed lightly against yours. With slow movements, he removes his arms from around you, and gently tries to pry your hands from your face. You struggle against him for a moment, tears still soaking your hands, but you give in, as you so often do, when it comes to the gentle force that is Matt Murdock.

He tilts your face up and places a soft kiss onto your forehead, palms cupping your face as he gently wipes the tears that have dripped down your cheeks. His eyes dance blindly across your face, and though he can’t see the way your sadness has literally poured from you, he can feel the way the heat of the tears have scalded you on their way down.

“Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart,” he whispers against your skin, still cradling your face in his scarred, calloused hands. “What happened?”

You take a deep breath, one that sounds more like a gasp than anything, and keep your eyes squeezed shut. “Everyone always…everyone always assumes you’re with her.”

“With Karen?”

You nod, fingers twisting themselves into the t-shirt he’s wearing.

“It’s happened more than once?”

“It happens all the time,” you tell him with something that sounds suspiciously like another sob. His frown deepens. “And maybe…maybe I just hear it more now because I've become so sensitive to it, but it’s happened quite a few times. And I know how stupid it is because I shouldn’t listen to what other people say, but it still just sucks to hear it over and over again.”

“What do people say?”

You try to twist out of his grasp, but he doesn’t let you. He presses another kiss to your forehead and asks the question again, softer this time. “They say…they say how beautiful you are together. How you’ll have beautiful children together. And when they–when they see that you’re with me instead, it’s almost like it’s offensive to them.”

Matt makes a mournful sound in the back of his throat, thumb catching a new wave of tears that trail down your cheeks at the admission. “None of that matters to me. You know that. You're the most beautiful person I've ever met, and I don't need to be able to see you to know that.”

“I know,” you whimper, and the sound makes you feel borderline pathetic. “But it matters to me.”

“Why, sweetheart?”

“Because it’s like everyone is saying I’m not good enough for you,” you say, still keeping your eyes closed as you expel the root of the insecurity. You feel like you're tearing yourself apart for him, the wounds every bit as real as the ones you spend night after night patching up on him.

“She is beautiful and kind and all the wonderful things you can think about a person. And I love Karen, she is such a wonderful person, and I'm incredibly lucky to call her a friend." You open your eyes briefly, taking in the way Matt looks just as pained at the words spilling from your mouth. "But it’s hard when everyone is basically telling me that she’s the person you should be with. And it’s–it’s not like I haven’t thought the same thing before. But hearing it come from other people just makes it worse.”

“Why would you–”

“And then Foggy told me–”

“Foggy?”

“--that you and Karen used to date,” you continue, as if the words can’t be stopped now. “He told me that you were together briefly, and that maybe it would have continued had Elektra not come into the picture. He said he had half-expected you two to perhaps get back together, or to try again. And I couldn’t help but think that maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be. That maybe I’m just some placeholder until–”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he says, and though he hasn’t raised his voice, the tone is stern and it finally manages to cut you off. You lower your head, but he lifts it back up. “Open your eyes.” With a deep breath, you do so, his face coming into view above yours. His mouth is parted in something that both resembles shock and slight frustration. “I am with you because I love you. Not because I can’t have Karen. Not because it didn’t work out with her. I am not with her because I don’t want her. I want you, only you.”

“But–”

“We went on one date, and I knew pretty early on that even though it felt nice for a moment, it was never going to be something that was sustainable, or worth fighting for because she wasn’t right for me. There is nothing between us, and there hasn’t been in years, and there won’t ever be again, because I am with the person I want to be with,” he tells you fiercely, pressing his forehead into yours, thumb tracing your bottom lip. “I am yours in every single way. And whatever you need from me to help you believe that, say the word and it’s yours.”

His tone is once again quiet and gentle by the time he’s finished speaking, and the words are a balm that rushes through your skin, putting out and soothing the heat and anxiety that has been coursing through your veins since the night before. You take shuddering breath after shuddering breath, attempting to bring your heart rate back down to normal, and at last you succeed.

“Sweetheart?” he asks gently when you’re quiet for too long. He pulls his head back, head tilted down towards you in the way you’re so familiar with. “Tell me what you need from me.”

You shake your head, contemplating the right words. “I can’t think of anything that you don’t already do, Matt,” you admit softly. “You…you already know what I need before I even know how to articulate it.”

He's quiet for a moment before he opens his mouth. "Do we need to…keep a little distance from her for a bit?" He looks deeply unsettled by the idea, and it's equally disorienting to you, too.

"God, no," you say with a gasp, jerking back as far as his hold on you will let you. "None of this is on her, at all. And I don't want her to feel like she did anything, because she didn't."

Matt looks relieved. "I didn't think it would be something you'd go for, but I wanted to throw it on the table, in case you did need some space."

You shake your head. "No, I don't need anything like that. I promise. Foggy and Karen are my friends, too, you know," you tell him, mouth tilted ever slightly at the corner as you think about all the memories you've shared over the past year. "Sure, I met them through you, but I love them. You're a package deal, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

He tucks a stand of hair behind your ear. "They feel the same way about you."

You can't help the way your smile widens slightly. "Good…I'm glad."

Matt places another kiss on your forehead, pausing again before he speaks. “I like to think I'm good at reading you,” he says softly, eyes landing on your shoulder, the color almost green in the sunlight that's pouring in from your kitchen window. “And I like to think that not a lot gets by me. But this did. And it seems like it’s been there for a while.”

You shrug, as always trying to downplay the way you’re feeling, but per usual, Matt doesn’t let you get away with it.

“It was a miss on my part,” he continues with a sigh. “I’m sorry I didn’t pick up on the fact that something was off.”

“Nothing about this is your fault, so please don’t apologize.” He opens his mouth to object, but you shush him with a soft finger on his lips. “I could have said something. I know how to use my words. I… purposefully avoided you when I was feeling like this because I knew you’d pull it out of me eventually. So that’s on me, I think.”

He looks contemplative for a second, before a small smile graces his face. You trace his mouth with the finger that’s already resting there, and he takes the opportunity to press a kiss to it. “I’ll make an effort to listen more for when something might be upsetting you, and you’ll make an effort to talk to me about it. Deal?”

Nodding, you mirror the small grin. “Deal.”

“And if I feel the need to pull you close and put my hands on you in public so that everyone knows you're mine, you'll be okay with that, right?"

You can't help but huff a laugh. "Matt–"

"Or if you prefer, you can do the same to me, whenever the need arises," he says innocently.

Your eyebrows raise. "Why do I feel like you're asking me to claim you in public?"

"It's a mutual claiming, sweetheart."

You roll your eyes fondly. "I guess when you put it that way, how can I say no?"

Matt smirks as he lowers his mouth towards yours, hand slipping into your hair so that you are angled perfectly beneath him. "Seal it with a kiss?”

“Absol–”

His lips are on yours before you’re done speaking the word.

#daredevil #matt murdock #human disaster matt murdock #marvel #foggy nelson #karen page #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil x fem reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil fanfiction

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talesofesther · 2 years

Text

deep devotion

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: Over time you came to realize more and more that sometimes Wednesday wears her words like armor. They become almost futile when you learn she speaks through actions.

Requested by anons: Here and here.

A/N: I combined two requests in this story, and I hope you guys like it, even if I feel like I deviated from them a bit. I'm not completely happy with how this story turned out, but it is what it is. Also FYI, there are a few descriptions of blood ahead, and flashbacks are in italics.

Masterlist

There was something morbid about the way the deep red color of blood mixed with the polished wood floor. It trickled down Wednesday's chin in steady droplets, splashing beside her boots in what would be an annoying stain to clean.

At least in that, the raven-haired girl could take some solace. Losing to Bianca had that effect, the one that makes you feel all bad kinds of miserable and enraged. Today especially, because it was one of those few times in which Wednesday allowed her feelings to dictate her actions.

If her labored breathing and the white-knuckled grip she had on her blade were anything to go by, she was fuming with rage. If you were here, you'd notice — this is where Wednesday's mind first goes to and she curses herself for it — but others don't, her face was kept impassive as the blade loudly clanked on the floor, as she stomped the ground with purpose, reaching the door of the fencing class quickly otherwise she'd be breaking one of the significant rules of the school. No killing your classmates.

Wednesday thought she heard the teacher calling, something about going to the infirmary; but the door had already slammed shut behind her, muffling his voice, and when he managed to reach it, she was nowhere to be seen.

She didn't really register where she was going. She just kept walking. The cold wind hit her cheeks when she stepped outside, it was comforting, she felt it on the damp and dried blood now stuck to her alabaster skin.

It was by luck, or maybe misfortune, that her path crossed with yours.

Wednesday saw you before you saw her, the pages of a book holding all of your attention as you slowly walked the stone path outside, between the lunch tables and the trees. Wednesday stopped in her tracks, waiting for the inevitable. She could taste the metallic flavor of blood on the corner of her lip, feel the sting of the recent cut and it kept her grounded.

There was something about you, something about the way the few lonely rays of sun on this cloudy day chose to shine upon the bouncing of your hair. You were all delicacy and warmth as you traced the lines on paper. While Wednesday was nothing short of a midnight moon covered by rain clouds.

That girlfriend of yours is too good for you anyways.

Maybe Bianca wasn't too far off.

"Wednesday!"

Your voice clashed with her thoughts, and before she knew it, you were shoving the book into your bag and had your hands reaching out for her.

Wednesday flinched at the sudden closeness, blinking a couple of times. The air is suddenly heavier, the clouds past the school walls are darkening quickly, it'll rain soon.

You gulped and dropped your hands, fingertips grazing the fabric over Wednesday's forearm. "What happened?" The worry in your voice was evident.

Wednesday didn't like the crease in your eyebrows or that she was the cause of it. She shook her head, strands of her hair — messy from the way she had forcefully taken her mask off earlier — getting stuck to her damp cheek, "nothing happened."

"So that just showed up there?" You deadpanned, eyes glued to her fresh wound, to the dark tone of the skin under her eyes.

"Nothing that requires you to fuss over me." Wednesday set her jaw, very much aware of you sneaking your fingers between hers. She'd never admit to liking it, but deep down she knew she didn't have to. You knew it already, you knew your way around her and it took having it, for Wednesday to understand how much she'd been wanting someone who took the time to understand her.

"I care about you," you spoke softly, somehow looking at her even softer. Raising your free hand, you pushed away the wisps of hair that had been caught in the drying blood. Your touch was all tender, as if she was fragile porcelain. Which was the furthest from the truth. Yet you did it anyway, following the same rhythm your bleeding heart set, pulsing with each beat for her. "There's a difference." You finished, and pulled her along with you.

The door to the infirmary appeared and you walked past it with no second glances, leading Wednesday to your room instead. Her hand gripped yours tighter after that.

You opened your dorm door for her and asked that she sat on your bed. She complied silently while you disappeared into the bathroom, the dark wood creaking under your steps.

Wednesday didn't say anything when you returned with a few damp gauzes and a bandaid. Or when you sat beside her, looking at her in a silent question before holding her jaw with one hand and cleaning the blood with the other; the white cloth became red, and then pink and then it didn't change at all as you cleaned every last bit from her skin, careful to not cause her any pain, eyebrows furrowed as you ever so slowly brushed her cheek.

The antiseptic stung bitterly, yet Wednesday couldn't look away from you even if she wanted to. Subconsciously, as if you were tugging at her heartstrings, she leaned into your touch, her lower lip met your palm when she relaxed. No one had the power to strip her down from her defenses as you did. It scared her, but she was addicted to the thrill of it.

You placed the purple bandaid right over the nasty cut on her cheek, and only then you asked again; "will you tell me what happened?"

Her dark eyes regarded you with caution before she averted her gaze, pulling her cheek away from your touch as it flushed pink. "Fencing class."

"Bianca?"

"She talks too much."

A beat passed in silence, the only sound being the howling wind outside your window preceding the storm. Over time you came to realize more and more that sometimes Wednesday wears her words like armor. They become almost futile when you learn she speaks through actions.

You picked up on it a few nights ago;

"Y/N if you don't turn that down I'll kick you out." Wednesday grumbled, before turning her attention back to her noisy typewriter.

You shared a glance with Enid — who sat beside you on her bed, biting her lip to contain a smile — promptly turning down the volume on your phone.

The night was a cold one, the glow of the half moon shining right outside the big round window cast bursts of color on Enid's side of the room and a soft white light on Wednesday's.

Time went by with you and Enid sharing a few laughs and Wednesday complaining about how you disturbed her peace. However, when Enid ended up sleeping on your shoulder and you squeezed yourself out of her bed to walk back to your dorm, Wednesday got up as well.

She quietly walked to her dark wooded wardrobe, opening its creaking doors to look for something inside. You followed, stopping right beside her to kiss her goodnight.

Wednesday paid you no mind, which made you frown. No matter what, there wasn't a day that came to its end without her lips settled on yours.

You reached out a hand to tug at her hoodie, but before you could, she was throwing a change of comfortable clothes into your face.

You messed up your hair as you pulled the fabric away to look at her. There was this glint in Wednesday's eyes, if you looked closely, you could see the shape of the moon on her irises. She pursed her lips in an almost smile, glancing at the clothes in your arms and then at you again.

Words weren't needed for you to understand, and your heart just about melted.

A few minutes after you exited the bathroom, now dressed comfortably in all black, you joined Wednesday in her bed. It was a tight fit and caused her body to be flush with yours — but you figured she didn't mind it much when she started playing with your hand under the covers.

Next morning you received just about twenty different pictures from Enid, most of them featuring you and Wednesday sleeping soundly, her head partly resting on your shoulder — though the last ones were all shaky, with a furious raven-haired girl reaching for the phone.

And today it's pretty evident that she's on edge, her eyebrows and lips hold a faint, permanent frown; her pupils are blown, yet miles away, as if she's here but her mind is trapped somewhere else.

"yeah, sometimes she does." There's more you want to say and Wednesday could sense it. You nagged on your lower lip as you gained the courage to do so. Her eyes followed the movement.

"Can I do something for you?"

Wednesday's eyes narrowed, her eyebrow twitched as if she was trying to solve a riddle. If you asked instead of just doing it, it was something you weren't sure she'd like. But you'd never given her a reason not to trust you.

She simply nodded, both hands resting on her lap, black nails tapping one another. Her eyes followed you as you moved to sit right behind her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off of you. When she couldn't see you anymore, she searched for something else to focus on, more specifically the grey clouds behind the tiny crack in your window.

When the tip of your fingers touched the end of one of her braids, Wednesday went as stiff as a corpse. She felt it, your touch barely there at first; careful, soft, as though testing tentative waters. Only when she melted the slightest bit toward you, that you started gently undoing the waves on her hair, strand by strand.

There was a lump on Wednesday's throat that she almost couldn't breathe over, goosebumps filled her skin at the same time her body felt too hot to the touch.

Her hair slowly fell in waves, a sea of dark over her shoulders and back as your fingers ran through it, untangling what was left of her braids. It was intimate, almost overwhelmingly so. Wednesday wasn't sure what you were getting at, but it felt a lot like a promise.

Once you were satisfied, you brushed aside her hair to lay your lips on her shoulder. Slowly as your top lip grazed the fabric of her jacket, you kissed her there.

Wednesday felt faint with the way you loved her. The splashes of rain hitting your window got blurred in her sight; she realized you just said to her those three words everyone cares so much about. And now she understands the weight of them.

Wednesday couldn't help but reach for your hand — the one that was gingerly playing with the ends of her curls — cold fingers wrapping around yours as she brought your knuckles to her own lips.

She said them back in the only way she knew how. And when your thumb traced the lines on her palm, she knew you understood.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x you #wednesdayedit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #wednesday addams fanfic #jenna ortega #wednesday x reader #my story

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