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souliebird · 11 months ago

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[[and then i met you || ch 16]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Words: 4.4k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

You dream of hands.

They are strong, calloused, and scarred, but they are so gentle with you. They dance over your skin, tracing over your belly to your sides and go down to your thighs. They come back up, pushing your panties to the side and examine your most intimate areas, and though you feel desire radiating from them, they do not cross the line into deviant behavior. They do not tease - they explore and memorize and make you feel like something precious.

Once they have soaked themselves in the slick your body can't help but produce, they slide up to just under your belly button and rest there. Everything inside you flutters at the gesture and your body craves to be full - for the hands to feel the push back of a life moving inside you.

They don't linger long - only enough to make you squirm and gasp - before they are moving again. They drag up your center, skirting your breast like they dare not indulge.

They wrap around your throat and give a small squeeze. They are powerful and could crush you without a thought, but they don't. They release you and continue upward. They brush your cheeks, and when a thick digit pushes past your lips and you begin to suckle at it, you finally wake.

Your bedroom is filled with bright sunlight, and you groan with disappointment.

Your instinct tells you to roll into your pillow and try to continue sleeping but your mind is faster than your body and groggy memories of the day before beat against your skull.

Your ear has no problems reminding you that you are ill. As you come more into consciousness, you become aware of how much it aches and how overly warm you feel. You vaguely remember being woken up to have ear drops put in and to coaxed into drinking water. There are flashes of sweet words and praise and being held while you drift back to sleep and gentle little kisses all over your face.

You force your eyes to open and are greeted by the cartoonishly large ones of Scooby. He's right beside your pillow, like he's watching over you, and he's been maneuvered into wearing Minnie’s miniature doctor's coat with her bright pink toy stethoscope clamped around his neck. Your heart sings with love for your little girl and you hug the stuffed dog to your chest, burying your nose in his oversized head.

How in the world did you get a daughter who is so pure and full of compassion and love? It certainly isn't genetic - you don't think your parents knew what compassion was. If this is from what you have taught her, then maybe, just maybe, you have finally done something right with your life.

You stay hugging Doctor Scooby until your bladder complains and you force yourself out of bed.

Your phone is nowhere to be seen, but you don't worry about it too much - you only wanted to check the time. You have a feeling it's around midday, but you can't be too sure - all you know is it feels like you slept forever.

You grab a change of clothes, then head to the bathroom, bringing your toddler assigned guardian with you. After you take care of business, you take the time to clean yourself up a bit before changing into fresh clothing. It does wonders to improve how you feel. Your ear still throbs, and you feel stiff, but you don't feel like you've been wallowing in your own sweat.

As you clean up your small mess, you note the carefully arranged bottles in your bathtub have been switched around. Minnie’s shampoo is in the wrong place and instead of any annoyance, you find yourself smiling.

Matt must have given her a bath. You can imagine how it went, as your daughter enjoys getting clean and playing with all her water-based toys. She also adores helping and following directions, and you can picture her instructing her Daddy on how to wash her hair just right.

You would have thought you'd never trust Minnie with someone so soon after meeting them - there's no way you'd let any of your friends give her a bath - but with Matt it is so easy. He wants so much to be a good father and he and Mouse already have such a good bond. You are just sad you missed their first bath time together.

You take Doctor Scooby and your dirty clothes and leave the bathroom. Your clothes go into the hamper, then you and the toy dog make your way to the living room. You can hear the television going, but it's too low to make out what is playing, and your daughter giggling. The noise warms your heart, and you yearn for her.

The scene you come upon is something you don't expect - Matt is sitting cross legged on the ground, back facing you, with Minnie standing right in front of him. On the coffee table beside her, her toy makeup kit is laid out, with all the different brushes scattered everywhere. Your daughter has a look of pure concentration on her face as she examines her father, a tube of what you know to be roll on glitter clutched in her little fist.

Matt must be getting his first princess makeover.

You can't hold back the delighted noise that comes from your soul at the realization and that of course catches both of their attention.

“Mommy!”

A rocket made of brown curls and a yellow sundress crashes into your waiting arms. You squeeze her tight, trying to absorb her into your being, along with the Scooby plush. The hug only lasts a moment, as she quickly pulls back, slaps her little hands onto your cheeks, and declares, “You're still sick!”

You push your face into her touch, and give a sad laugh, guilt bubbling in your belly, “I am, I'm sorry, Mouse. But I feel better now, I promise.”

She purses her lips at you before dropping her hands from your face and says in an authoritative voice, “Doctor Scooby says you need more sleep.”

You look down at the toy still in your arms, then hold him up to be face to face with Minnie, “My body doesn't want to sleep anymore. Do you think it would be okay if I came out here to be with my family, Doctor Scooby?”

She takes the dog from you and jams his mouth to her ear. She pouts and goes, “uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay,” before turning him so he is looking at you and you feel like you're being judged by him. “He says you have to stay on the couch. And no cookies!”

“No cookies?” Matt asks from behind Minnie, and you finally tear your eyes away from her to look at him. You have to bite your lip, so you don't laugh.

Mouse has gone above and beyond with her princess makeover.

Baby pink eyeshadow has been smeared over his eyelids, up to his thick eyebrows, and blended out to have a border of blue sparkles. His cheeks are rouged enough to make a flapper jealous, and a deep purplely-red stain has been carefully applied to his lips. Or as carefully as a three-year-old can do, which means the scruff around his mouth now has a nice tint to it. To top off his look, stick-on gems have been placed around his eyes, and the deep red color and shape of them mimic the glasses he typically wears.

He looks absolutely fabulous, and you need to find your phone so you can send pictures to Foggy and Karen.

“No cookies,” Minnie confirms, waving her plush at you to get your attention back onto her.

“Okay, no cookies,” you agree. You don't know if you actually have any cookies in the pantry to eat, anyways, so this will be an easy rule to follow. “And I have to stay on the couch?”

Minnie nods vigorously, “Doctor's orders!”

“Okay, if the doctor says so.”

You push yourself back into standing and your daughter takes your hand to practically march you over to the couch. You plop down in your corner and not a moment later, Scooby is back in your arms. Then, Minnie is zooming away from you and to the kitchen, calling back, “Daddy, I need help, please, thank you!”

Matt beams at you as he stands up and even with his face used as a coloring book, he looks handsome as ever, “I'm coming, my love.” His voice is full of joy and pride, and while you feel guilty, he is stuck babysitting while you're recovering, he clearly doesn't feel the same. You have the suspicion that every time Minnie calls him ‘Daddy’, his heart grows bigger.

You don't turn to spy as Matt disappears from your view. Your phone is on the table behind Minnie’s make up kit, so you grab that then pull the throw blanket off the back of the couch and wrap yourself in it after adjusting to get a little more comfortable.

There are no urgent or interesting notifications waiting for you - a few emails about sales and calendar reminders about upcoming bills that need to be paid. You swipe them away then turn your focus to the television. It is one of the educational videos about animals your little one has started watching in preparation for her birthday trip to the zoo. The date is coming up fast and you wonder if she's been telling Matt about all the animals she's excited to see. You can't wait to take her to the park for her special day.

Minnie brings you from your thoughts with another yell of, “Mommy!” She hurries into your view and your heart swells with love. She's holding your water bottle, which she shoves at you, “Doctor Scooby says…he says you have to stay hide-rated. I asked Daddy what that means and he said you gotta drink lots of water! I got you water!”

You take your bottle and have to resist the urge to take her up in your lap as well. Your little angel is so sweet and thoughtful, and you very much want to wrap her up in your arms and never let go.

“Thank you so much, sweetie, I'll make sure to keep hydrated. Promise,” you tell her, fully meaning to do just that. You try to drink a lot of water anyways, so it shouldn't be hard to accomplish.

Minnie, however, either doesn't believe you or is over eager to take care of you. She grabs a hold of one of your legs and shakes it as hard as she can, demanding “Drink!” She drags out the word in a way only a toddler can and to soothe her, you take a long sip of water.

“What else did Doctor Scooby say?” Matt asks as he returns from the kitchen, and you can feel the grin in his words.

Mouse takes in the question, swaying slightly as she thinks, then breaks out into a big grin as she recites, “Lots of rest and…and a ...a towel on her ear! To help the ickies!”

“Exactly,” Matt practically cooes as he scoops up his daughter, swinging her around before securing her on his hips. He tilts his head towards you, looking proud as can be, “I think we have a little doctor on our hands.”

“I'm gonna be a veteran!” Minnie declares, puffing up her chest.

You know she means veterinarian and decide you aren't going to correct her. Instead, you're going to tease her about her past career goals, “I thought you wanted to be a hot dog vendor?”

Her eyes get wide at the reminder, and she quickly amends, “I'm gonna do that on the weekend!”

“So, veteran during the week and hot dog vendor on the weekend?” Matt confirms, blue sparkly eyebrows raised.

“Yeah!”

You and Matt both huff in laughter and your little one beams at the attention.

You take in Matt's appearance, with his devastatingly handsome face and boyish charm and a warmth churns in your belly. To push away those feelings, you ask, “are you still going to have time to give Daddy makeovers with all that work?”

Minnie looks at Matt and analyzes him, before starting to wiggle to be put down, “you need says-or-eases!” You guess she isn't done with him yet and talks of her future will have to wait.

He sets her on the ground, asking, “I need what?” but she doesn't acknowledge him, running off to the bedroom to grab more of her toys. You watch as he moves his head in minute movements, brow wrinkling up. He must be trying to figure out what his daughter is fetching.

“What is she getting?” Matt finally asks you and you take a sip of water so swallow down any smugness you have.

“Accessories,” you clarify. “You can't have a makeover without getting some new accessories.”

He mouths the word, and you know he has no idea what is to come - Foggy’s nieces must be too old for dress up and makeovers. He remains standing until Minnie comes waddling back. She's carrying one of the purses you've gotten for her, and she's stuffed it full of costume jewelry and hair clips. She dumps it all out on the ground by Matt's feet with a demand of, “Sit, please, thank you!”

Bewildered, he does as he's told, and your daughter wastes no time trying to determine what looks best with his makeup. She holds a necklace up, looking between it and him before setting it aside with a ‘no!’ This happens again and again as she goes through her necklaces, then clip-on earrings and bangles - none of which fit over Matt's hands and are abandoned - and finally hair clips.

You enjoy the process, sitting back and letting yourself wake up as Minnie describes each accessory to her Daddy as she decides if it matches the aesthetic. You snap photos to send to your new friends and Matt is good enough to even pose for a few.

The final look consists of a giant yellow heart necklace, blue teardrop dangle earrings, and Beauty and the Beast hair bow. He looks very dashing, and you tell him as much as you send the end product over to Foggy and Karen.

“If hot dog vending doesn't work out, your side hustle can be as a stylist,” you tease and Minnie beams at you, enjoying the praise. Matt examines what he is wearing, carefully touching the plastic jewelry to better understand what he looks like as Mouse reminds him of the colors.

As they do that, you check the time. It is a little past Nap Time, so once the conversation starts to change, you address your daughter, “Would you like to clean up your toys and get some juice?”

You know she knows this transition and she doesn't hesitate to nod and start to act. She starts with the things on the floor, stuffing them back into her purse and Matt jumps into Dad-mode.

“What type of juice do you want, Mouse?”

“Apple juice, please, thank you.”

“Half juice, half water,” you advise as he carefully navigates out of the living area.

“Is the cup from last night, okay? The sippy one?”

“The bunny one!” Is the almost haughty reply. The pink bunny is the pre-nap juice cup, and you think a fit might be thrown if tradition isn't followed, so you untangle yourself from the blanket and go to the kitchen. Luckily, no one calls you out for leaving the couch.

You smile at Matt as you pass him, and explain, “I ordered water resistant Braille label stickers but haven't finished putting them on all her things yet.” You open the cabinet that holds all of her various cups and pull out the correct one, then pass it over. “This one I did label.”

Matt takes it and runs his fingers over the surface until he finds the Braille, “Pink with bunnies. For Juice. Nap Time.” His face relaxes into something soft as he retraces the words. You don't know how descriptive you need to be with everything, but you know you don't need to spell everything out for him. His lips twitch into a smile and he whispers to you, “thank you,” before turning to the fridge to get out the juice.

You don't want to make things awkward by lingering, so you shuffle back to the couch and reclaim your spot. Matt joins you a minute later, setting the sippy cup on the table.

Mouse finishes cleaning up her toys rather quickly, then grabs her juice and crawls up to be between the two of you. You change the television over to one of the Pre-Nap shows - something calming to help everyone wind down - and out of the corner of your eye, you see your daughter snuggle into her Daddy's side and begin to sip her juice. Matt wraps his arm around her shoulders and begins to oh so gently pet over her arm.

She's out before she finishes her juice.

You don't miss the opportunity to take more pictures of Matt looking down at Minnie. You know he can't see her with his eyes, but you wonder what input he is getting and if he knows how sweet the pair of them look.

You sit silently and wait until you're sure she won't wake up, then reach to gently touch Matt's shoulders, “Do you want to put her in her bed?”

He nods slowly, his whole being screaming with love for his little girl. You take the sippy cup away as he carefully picks her up after standing and you watch as he cradles her to his chest. He stands there for a moment, holding her close, and you think he must be savoring the moment.

You don't disturb him and after a minute, he starts towards the bedroom. You wait until he's disappeared down the hallway to get up and go pour out the remainder of Minnie’s juice. You clean the cup, then grab some skin friendly wet wipes - you have the feeling Matt may not want to keep wearing his makeup. It feels gummy on your skin so you can't imagine how irritating he finds it.

You resettle on the couch and change from sleepy television to soul crushing television - the midday news.

You usually like to catch the top stories and the weather before switching away, but given Nap Time came a little late today, you miss those. Instead, you tune into the host interviewing some politician and the headline bar tells you he's a senator and they are discussing the Connecticut explosion. You turn up the volume slightly, so you can actually hear it.

“- leaked report states this was not an attack, but the attempted arrest of an Enhanced individual gone wrong. Allegedly, the destruction of a neighborhood and the 634 deaths, dozens of which were children, was all caused by one man with powers. What are your thoughts on this, Senator Kelly?”

You frown at the new information. One person caused all that pain? Or are they just blaming one individual?

“Thank you for having me, Vicki,” the Senator says, and you already don't like him. He gives off a slimy vibe - like he doesn't care about anyone but himself. “I've read the report and I've been on the ground, talking to the people whose lives were destroyed, and I've got one question in mind: why were the good people of Stamford not made aware they were living next to a bomb? This individual, whose identity is still being hidden, only released one attack. One!”

Your eyes go wide at the statement. That can't be true. Can someone really have that much power inside of them? You can understand people like Iron Man with a bunch of missiles strapped to him, but someone who is Enhanced?

“What do you propose, Senator?” Vicki asks and something like dread turns in your stomach.

Matt reenters the room just as the vile man begins speaking again. He comes to stand by the couch, putting his hand on the cushion behind your shoulder.

“The American people deserve to know who they are living next to. We implemented this policy for sexual deviants, and we should do the same for these so-called Enhanced Individuals! The Sokovia Accords talks about registering ‘super heroes’,” Kelly uses air quotes around the word, a disgusted look on his face, “but this man wasn't a hero. He was a literal ticking time bomb and who knows how many more Enhanced Individuals are out there just like him. How would you feel if your neighbor could blow up your house with a wave of their arm, or walk through your walls, or Heaven-forbid, control you with their mind? S.H.I.E.L.D showed us all those people existed! How are we supposed to protect ourselves against that? Whose stopping those people from causing the next Sokovia, or Lagos, or Stamfo-”

You turn off the television. You can't hear any more of that man's rancid words and implications.

You tilt your head up to look at Matt and your heart pangs for him. He's openly scowling and in the corner of your eye, you see him gripping the couch cushion tightly.

Your body acts without thought and you reach up to squeeze his bicep, “Matt...?”

“He's talking about people like they are uncontrollable weapons,” he grinds out, “this is McCarthy Era ‘everyone who isn't you is a threat’ bullshit.”

“I know,” you say to try to soothe some of the anger you see boiling in him. You understand the anger and you are angry, too. You think Matt falls under the umbrella of ‘Enhanced Individuals’ and if so, Minnie does as well. It terrifies you that someone who is supposed to be running the country is spitting out such words, but you want to believe he's in the fringe. You want to believe your government doesn't think your daughter is a threat just because she's different. “He's vile.”

With his free hand, Matt wipes at his mouth, still looking furious, “everything he is saying goes against the Constitution. People have the right to privacy.”

You gently tug on his arm, and he takes the signal to come around and sit beside you. You turn to face him, and he does the same, and you decide to take the initiative. You want him to feel better.

You are slow with your movements, so he can figure out your intentions, and unclip the bow from his hair. His eyes flutter shut before he takes a deep, calming breath, “I can't believe they let people like him on the news.”

You hum, then remove his necklace before going for the earrings, “I can. They love to stir the pot and giving those horrible people airtime gets them more views. They don't care about what's being said, only how much money they are getting for it “

“That's bleak,” he grumbles.

“It's better than the networks believing that bullshit,” you reply, as you pluck the red gems from his face. That makes him huff and a little smile form on his lips.

“You're good at this.”

“At what?” You ask as you set aside the jewelry on the table and grab the wet wipes.

“Defusing the situation, turning the negative into a positive,” he says. He keeps his eyes closed as you start to wipe away the makeup Minnie caked onto him, starting with his rouge.

“Is it a positive the news wants money instead of spewing hate?” You counter, a little bit of a tease in your voice. He reaches out and squeezes your knee and you can't help but smile. “Though, I guess it is better to be a capitalist than a Nazi.”

“That's the American way of thinking,” Matt jokes and you have to stop cleaning away the makeup so you can both laugh.

You fall back into silence as you start in on his eye shadow. He keeps his hand on your knee, slowly beginning to rub his thumb back and forth over your sweats. You can practically see the tension bleeding out of his shoulders and a bit of pride swirls in your chest. You feel guilty for turning on and listening to the news in the first place.

When it comes time for you to wipe away the stain on Matt's lips, you hesitate.

You've been trying to ignore the feelings that have been slowly growing inside you. You thought of them as weeds - byproducts of Matt being naturally charming and kind and the father of your child. You know you are attracted to him - you slept with him, after all - but emotionally?

You're terrified of that.

You're terrified of him not returning the feelings.

You're terrified you only see what he allows you to see, and when the facade drops, someone else will appear.

You're terrified of messing everything up - for yourself. For Minnie.

You don't want to think of your dreams, where you know it's him you are imagining. You don't want to think about how perfect it felt to be held by him and know you were safe. You don't want to think about how he still hasn't left you since you had to be taken to the hospital.

You can't fall down that rabbit hole. It's too much for you.

So, you try to rip away the things growing inside you before they bloom and push forward. You fold the wet wipe in half and begin to remove the last of the makeup. You don't rush, taking just as much care as you had getting rid of the blue sparkles.

“All done,” you say as you finish and pull away from him, turning purposefully so his hand slides off your leg. You pretend to not notice and focus on balling up the used wipes.

“Thank you,” he responds quietly, turning as well so he's facing the television once again. You fear things are going to dip into awkwardness, but Matt speaks again before you get to say something stupid. His words are soft and steady, but strike fear into your heart.

“There was something I wanted to talk with you about.”

You try to swallow down your anxiety and tell yourself that this isn't about your silly emotions - whatever Matt has to say must be regarding Minnie. It's the only thing that makes sense, so you come out a small “Yeah?”

“I wanted to talk to you about my mother.”

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then i met you

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saveyourblood · 2 months ago

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Pretty Boy - Ch 2 (Evan Buckley x Reader) (Eventual Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1

Chapter Summary: Buck faces a few challenges, and you're there for some of them.

A/N: This is such a niche story and I am desperate for validation, please tell me if you enjoyed reading! Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: descriptions of gun violence, mental health issues/suicide ideation (nothing overly graphic IMO)

Unlike some people who work in this building, you know how to take orders. So, instead of dragging your feet and prolonging the inevitable, you go to Bobby’s office the second you get back from the call. Hen tries to say something to you, but you’re so focused on having this conversation behind you that you ignore her.

Despite the door being cracked open, you knock a few times.

“Come in,” Bobby says.

You step in. He looks up.

“Ah,” he remarks as if it’s a surprise to see you. “You can close the door behind you.”

You close the door and lean against it.

“Have a seat,” Bobby instructs as he files through some random papers.

You let out a sigh. You were hoping to be in and out, but Bobby clearly has other ideas. Still, you do as you’re told.

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened with Buck.”

As if you’d be in here for anything else.

“Are you gonna write me up?” You ask instinctually. You’ve never been formally disciplined, so the question is gnawing at you.

“Buck wants me to.”

You snort. “Buck wants a lot of things; most children do.”

“You’re a year younger than him,” Bobby points out.

It’s true—Buck is 26, and you’re 25. But in this context especially, age is just a number. You’re a 25-year-old advanced practice paramedic with 3 years of experience who acts their age. Buck is a 26-year-old firefighter in his probationary period who acts like a frat boy.

“Are you going to write me up?” You repeat.

Bobby gives you a look, then sighs with a crooked smile. “No. But if you do anything like that again, you’ll be hearing from me and Sergeant Grant.”

“Fair enough,” you cede.

There are a few silent beats in the conversation. This is why Bobby made you sit—he has more to say.

“Why does he bother you so much?” Bobby asks.

“Literally everything I told him: he’s wreckless and he’s gonna get someone killed if he doesn’t change.”

“So why not teach him to do better, to be better?”

“Trust me, Cap, I’ve tried,” you chuckle. “I mean, even earlier today, I taught him how to clear an obstruction in a neonatal airway. And honestly? For a few minutes, when he was running down the stairs with that baby in his arms, I thought, ‘Hey, maybe he isn’t so bad after all.’ And then he yells at Sergeant Grant, and he proves me wrong. Again.”

“I’m talking to him and Sergeant Grant about how everything went down,” Bobby says.

“I’m not telling you that to get him in trouble, I just…” You take a deep breath through your nose and let it out as a sigh. “It felt like no one was holding him accountable. And I’ve tried playing nice, and I’ve tried teaching him, and he still had the nerve to pretend that he can play god. And I just… lost it, and thought that maybe if I treat him like a man would, he would finally listen to me.”

Bobby nods, taking in everything you’ve said.

“You think I don’t hold him accountable?” He eventually asks.

You let out another sigh. “If Buck worked under any other LAFD Captain, they would have canned his ass about three months ago.”

“But is that the right thing to do?” Bobby counters. “This job is tough, and it isn’t something that can be taught overnight. Buck has potential—he could be an invaluable asset some day.”

“Is firing him the right call? Honestly, Bobby, I have no idea,” you admit. “But if people have to get hurt in order for Buck to be good at his job, then it isn’t worth the price.”

Bobby ended up firing Buck a few days later. It wasn’t for what happened with Sergeant Grant; it was because, apparently, Bobby caught him having sex with some girl on a roof. He used one of the fire trucks to drive there. The moron didn’t realize they have GPS trackers. You got all of this information in a text from Hen.

You turn the corner to the locker room, planning to put away your keys and wallet before starting your shift like you always do. You didn’t expect to see Buck sitting on the bench in front of the lockers.

You plan on opening your locker, throwing your stuff in it, and leaving before Buck can say anything. The second you lift the lever, though, Buck turns his head towards you.

He doesn’t say anything, and you definitely aren‘t going to break the silence.

“So you heard, huh?” Buck says.

You close your locker and spin the lock to scramble it. “Yeah, I did.”

“Aren’t you going to say anything else?”

“Tough break. Sorry, man,” you say with a shrug. You turn on your heel to leave.

“That’s it?” Buck says with a laugh. “A few days ago, you were slamming me against an ambulance, and now… nothing? Aren’t you supposed to say, ‘I told you so’?”

Buck doesn’t even work at the 118 anymore, and he still has a way of getting under your skin. You close your eyes, hoping you can gain some composure before you say anything.

“I’m sorry for pushing you; that was unprofessional,” you say and make your second attempt at leaving.

“But that’s all you're sorry for,” Buck says, rising to his feet.

You turn around and eye him from head to toe. His chest isn’t puffed out in that hypermasculine way it normally is. Buck shifts his weight between feet, and when the pressure of your stare becomes too much, he breaks eye contact.

“It’s like Sergeant Grant said: I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” you eventually reply.

“Then say it: you’re happy to see me go.”

Jesus Christ, he can be such a baby.

“Okay, fine, you wanna go there?” you retort, taking a step forward. “You wanna know the worst thing about you, Buck?”

He just looks at you.

“You. You’re the worst thing about you. Because you could’ve been good. You’ve got decent skills, and you have heart, but you have no discipline. You can’t take orders, and you can’t look at a woman for more than thirty seconds without having sex with her. You’re a 16-year-old boy trapped in a 26-year-old man’s body, and ever since you started, you haven’t done anything to change it. You get in your own way and are too busy flirting or running your mouth to even realize it.”

You take another step towards him to ensure he hears what you’re about to say. “You could’ve been good. And I hope that shit haunts you. Because maybe, it’ll finally make you grow up.”

You start to make your exit again but linger in the doorway. You turn back around; there’s one more thing you want to say.

“I’m not happy to see you go, Evan. In fact, I was really hoping you would prove me wrong.”

And with that, you’re gone.

You and Hen go out on a ‘shortness of breath’ call that ends up being a STEMI — a heart attack. You get him to the nearest hospital in five minutes, and if they can get him to the cath lab, he has a really good shot at surviving it. The patient’s wife hugs both you and Hen, thanking the two of you for doing such a wonderful job. You savor the feeling; most calls don’t end this way.

When you pull into the station, there’s an engine missing. At first, you think it’s no big deal: the boys are probably out on a fire call. Then you see Bobby standing where the engine’s supposed to be.

“What’s going on, Cap?” Hen asks as she closes the door to the rig.

“There’s an engine missing.”

“Yeah, clearly,” you chuckle.

“There were reports of a residential break-in on Lambert Street in Winnetka,” Bobby continues.

“Damn,” Hen whistles.

You both heard something about that over the scanner on your drive back to the station; there was a suspected hostage, a young girl. Last you heard, the subject was trying to flee by motorcycle.

“All of the 118 firemen are accounted for,” Bobby concludes.

You and Hen share a look. Who has a track record of borrowing engines without permission?

The truck pulls up and slowly backs into the garage. You catch a glimpse of the driver in one of the rearview mirrors.

“Pretty Boy,” you say simply.

Buck steps out of the truck, still wearing the jeans and long-sleeved grey shirt you last saw him in. “I know what this looks like.”

“Looks like you took the engine out in your street clothes,” Bobby says as he approaches the younger man.

“I didn't really have time to change,” Buck counters. He doesn’t say it in his normal cocky tone, though. Frankly, he looks nervous.

“Athena Grant called me, wanted to tell me what an asset you are.” Bobby continues. “Told her she was half right.”

Buck frowns. “Are you giving me another chance?”

“You’ve used all your chances; so have I,” Bobby says, “because somehow I have failed to communicate to you how lucky we are to do what we do.”

Bobby starts to walk away, but Buck isn’t letting him get away that easy.

“You're wrong, Bobby. I absolutely do get what a privilege it is to serve here,” Buck says, “and you know what? You were right to fire me.”

That makes Bobby stop dead in his tracks.

“I was a punk,” Buck continues, “still am one. But I'm a punk who understands what he lost. Just… needed you to know that.”

“I hope you mean that. Now go get dressed.”

Buck stands cluelessly for a second, then turns to you and Hen. “I think I’m not fired.”

“Your shift’s not over yet,” Hen points out.

You go to follow her, but Buck stops you by calling your name.

“I just wanted to tell you, uh…” Buck says, wringing his hands together. “I’m gonna prove you wrong.”

Normally, words like that coming out of his mouth would set your skin on fire. Between the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, though, something in your gut tells you to hear him out.

“Yeah?” You ask simply, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Some day, I’ll be good,” he says, “but until then, I’ll be better.”

Buck extends a hand for you to shake. It’s the most chivalrous thing you’ve seen him do since you met him. You look at his hand, then at his eyes. There isn’t a trace of humor in his gaze. You take his hand and shake it.

“I look forward to seeing it.”

Your first call of the shift is to an amusement park where one of the rides malfunctioned. A rider was thrown from the ride as it was moving, and it sounds like he’ll be DOA. When the operator deployed the emergency breaks, though, it meant the rest of the train stopped at the top of a loop, which one rider is now dangling out of.

Buck is the first to volunteer to climb the ladder and harness the passenger. You’re not surprised. He’s grown a lot in the last few weeks, but he still jumps at every exciting opportunity, no matter how dangerous it may be. Maybe that’s just how Buck is.

“Hey, he’s asking about his friend,” Buck radios once he’s at the top.

“Chimney, how’s the kid on the ground?” Bobby radios.

You look up and shake your head.

“We lost him,” Chim radios back.

“All right, I don't need the people up there seeing that. So, do me a favor... He survived, right? Get him on a gurney. You know the drill,” Bobby instructs.

“Copy that,” Chim replies.

Once you and Chimney get him on the gurney and out of everyone’s sight, you look up at Buck.

“Come on,” Chimney mutters encouragingly. “Come on, Buck.”

After a painfully long minute, you see the man’s grasp on the rollercoaster falter. Then, you watch him let go. You close your eyes before you see him hit the ground, but the sound will echo off of your eardrums for a while.

You go the rest of the night without seeing Buck; you don’t share another call, and when you’re not out in the field, you’re asleep in the bunks. It’ll probably kill you in the long run, but these days, you learn to sleep whenever and wherever you can.

When you wake up for morning report and breakfast, Buck is already sitting at the table. You wipe the sleep out of your eyes and get a cup of coffee before sitting across from him.

Bobby was nice enough to make breakfast; he knows how hard these calls are. No matter how many you get, it’ll never get easier.

Bobby sets a plate in front of Buck.

“I’m not hungry,” he says almost instantaneously.

“This is America, Buckaroo,” Chim replies as he sets some silverware on the table. “Eating has nothing to do with being hungry.

“Man, I was right there. You know, all he had to do was reach up and grab my hand,” Buck says instead.

“People do funny things at times like that,” you offer, sipping your drink. “ Sometimes they just freeze up.”

“I’ve never lost anyone before,” Buck says quietly. He looks up at you. “Does it get any easier?”

Bobby answers for you. “No.”

“Look, people die, and that’s part of the gig, right?” Chim says as he sits next to you. “See, your problem is, you're looking at every job like it's a long-term relationship. They're one-night stands, man. In that moment, they mean everything to you, but once the morning comes... it's on to the next one.”

“How silly of me to think you’d say something productive,” you roll your eyes.

Chim furrows his brows. “What?”

“You’re such a man,” you say to Chim, then turn to Buck. “Look, dude, we all go through it, and you just have to figure out a way to deal with it,.” You pause. “You know why we wear these uniforms?”

“Sex appeal?” Chim answers, which earns him a quick kick to the shin from you.

“So people can easily identify us,” Buck responds.

“That’s true, but… I don’t know, I like to think it’s because when we take it off, we can leave it all behind us. Right now, you’re firefighter Buckley, but when your shift is over, you’re Buck. It just… symbolizes letting go, I guess.”

“I see his face every time I close my eyes,” Buck says. “Does that happen to you?”

“It’ll pass,” you promise.

“And if it doesn’t?”

You stare at Buck for a moment. It’s hard to imagine that this is the same man who mouthed off to a police Sergeant mere weeks ago.

“Then you talk someone,” you eventually say. “A friend, a therapist, a bartender… you find a way to let it out, and then you let it go.”

Once again, you don’t see Buck for hours. You heard on the scanner that the 118 responded to several rescue calls, none requiring an RA unit. You spent the rest of your shift bouncing from call to call and ER to ER, seeing everything from stab wounds to childbirth. It’s shifts like this that remind you why you do what you do. It’s chaotic, stressful, and bloody, but it is fun. After a certain point, you don’t even have to use your brain; the adrenaline in your veins kicks your brain into autopilot, and your pounding heart is just along for the ride.

You step into the communal locker room, completely exhausted. You still have to change, and considering everything you’ve witnessed, you should probably shower too. Most of all, you want to go home and crawl into your bed.

Buck is sitting on the bench in the locker room, similar to how he was a few weeks ago after he was ‘fired.’ Just like you, he’s still wearing his uniform. His head is bowed between his shoulders as his elbows rest on his knees. This time, his head doesn’t perk up when you open your locker.

“I heard you used The Manuever today,” you spark the conversation. “Nice save.”

Buck finally looks up and then chuckles quietly. “Yeah, if only I could’ve done that a few days ago.”

You take a seat next to him. “Still thinking about Devon, huh?”

“I’m trying not to, I just…” Buck says, then cuts himself off as he shakes his head.

“It’s easier said than done,” you conclude.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” you agree.

Both of you sit in comfortable silence for a few moments. You open your mouth a few times only to close it. You don’t want to tell this story; you hate even thinking about it. But if you’re going to sit here and tell Buck that he has to let things go, you have to do the same. It’s only fair.

“The first person I lost… her name was Katherine Vanec. She was 17 years old, wearing a University of Washington shirt, white shorts, and black Converse High Tops. We got a call from her mother, who was at work when she started getting strange texts from Katherine. It was supposed to be a welfare check, and when the cops got there, they found her locked in her bedroom. When fire and rescue broke down the door, she had a .22 caliber revolver pressed to her temple.”

“Jesus,” Buck mutters.

“Katherine had a history of Borderline Personality Disorder and suicidal ideation. She figured out that her high school sweetheart had been cheating on her for almost a year. They made plans together, I guess — they were gonna go to the same school, find a place off-campus to live together. He pulled the rug right out from under her, and she couldn’t take it.”

“So what happened?”

You smile sadly. “By the time we arrived, a negotiator had been talking to her for almost ten minutes. They thought she was in a good spot that all she had to do was put the gun down, and we would swoop in and 5150 her.”

“Involuntary admission,” Buck says.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “That didn’t happen. When the negotiator asked her to set the gun down, she lost it. She kept talking about how every time before, she chickened out, and she couldn’t let that happen again. She turned the gun on us.”

“Suicide by cop.”

You nod as a few tears well in your eyes. Even all these years later, that case haunts you. “Her finger wasn’t near the trigger; she didn’t want to hurt anyone. She just didn’t want to be alive anymore, and she couldn’t think of another way out. I can still hear the sound of the bullets tearing through her.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Buck asks softly.

You wipe at your eyes and clear your throat. “Let it out and let it go,” you answer, then nudge his shoulder with yours. “Your turn.”

Buck smiles; the expression is bittersweet. “I keep replaying what happened. I can’t shake this feeling that there’s something else I could’ve done. Maybe I could have grabbed his arm, or maybe there’s something I could’ve said differently.”

“Or maybe, no matter what you did, it was always going to end that way,” you suggest quietly. “Maybe he felt the same way Katherine did—like he had no other way out. We can try to rescue people, but we can’t make them want to be alive. Some people just don’t want to be saved, Buck.”

“That really sucks.”

You laugh. “Yeah, it does. I guess that’s why we have each other; it makes it suck a little less.”

“‘Each other’ as in you and me?” Buck asks in a lighthearted tone.

You roll your eyes, but secretly, you’re thankful for the change of pace. “‘Each other’ as in the 118, which technically includes you and me.”

“Sounds like a copout.”

You laugh and clap a hand on Buck’s shoulder before standing. “Have a good night, Buck.”

You make it to the doorway before he says your name. You look back at him.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

You bite your lip, but it isn’t enough to conceal your smile. “Anytime.”

Ch 3

#911 abc #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #911 show #911 on abc #911 reader insert #evan buckley/reader #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz #eventual eddie diaz x evan buckley #evan buckley x eddie diaz x reader #Buddie x reader #i can write

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morgana-larkin · 3 months ago

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Hii, i love your writings and i hope you could do a Melissa one, were Melissa and the reader have a bigger age gap. Melissas behavior changed at few days ago and shes acting weird. Turns out Melissa got her menopause and is really insecure anout it. (Maybe the reader noticed some symtomes)

I hope its not out of your comfortzone <3

Hi anon! This is a cute prompt and I wonder if you got the idea due to the advertising Lisa is doing with menopause at work. Anyway I got inspiration for it and I did have to look up the symptoms as we’re not taught anything about it in school. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I have 26 other prompts to do for Mel, Chessy and Agatha so they’re coming! If you want a specific one for kinktober then send it with the character and the kink that you want!

Natural

Warnings: mentions of sex, swearing, Mel goes through menopause

Words: 2.1k

“Here you go Mel.” You say as you hand her your heating pad.

“Thanks Tesoro.” She says as you plug it in for her and she turns it on and puts it on an aching joint.

“Why have your muscles been so sore lately?” You ask her and Ava pipes up.

“Have you two been getting up to some freaking time?” She asks and you both give her a look.

“No more than usual.” You say and everyone turns to look at you both, and Melissa quirks an eyebrow at you. “What?”

“Oh just tell everyone we’re having sex then.” Melissa says and you roll your eyes.

“Oh they know we’ve been dating for a few months and we’re both adults.” You tell her and she goes back to focusing on her aching body. All of a sudden Melissa starts rubbing her eyes and you look at her. “Something in your eyes?” You ask her.

“No, I think they’re dry.” She says.

“If you want I can run home and get my eye drops for you.” You tell her.

“No it's alright, it’ll probably go away in a few minutes.” She says and you can tell it’s really irritating her.

“Oh I have some eye drops here.” Barb says and digs through her purse to get her eye drops and then hands them to Melissa, who then immediately applies it to her eyes.

“Thanks Barb.” She says and then hands it back to her.

“Are you ok? You’ve been acting differently these past couple of days.” You tell her and she whips her head at you.

“I haven’t been acting different.” She says defensively.

“Why are you acting like I’m accusing you?” You ask her and she starts rubbing her temples and then Janine pipes up.

“Oh we all gotta get to our classrooms!” She says and everyone except Melissa and Barb get up and leave.

“Keep my heating pad for the day. I don’t start my period for another week.” You tell Melissa before leaving, along with a kiss to her cheek.

Melissa and Barb get up and gather their stuff to go to their classroom.

“Why won’t you just tell her that you’re starting menopause?” Barb asks her and Melissa quirks an eyebrow at her. “Oh please, I recognize the signs. And soon Y/n will as well. Considering she’s a gym and Sex Ed teacher.” Barb explains and Melissa sighs.

“If she knows I’ve started Menopause then she might leave me, since it’s a big sign of our 25 year age gap and how old I am.” Melissa says as they walk out of the staff room.

“Melissa, both of you are already aware of the age gap. That’s why you didn’t want to start a relationship with her for a year.” Barb reminds her. “But, Y/n waited for you to be ready, remember that.” Barb adds as they reach her classroom.

Melissa reaches her classroom and gets the heating pad ready before her students get there. Melissa started menopause about a month ago and just started showing more symptoms in the past few days. She honestly hasn’t had sex with you in a few days as everything has been dry, especially between her legs. She fears when you’ll start questioning why she doesn’t want sex soon as she knows you love it since you’re 25.

Melissa taught a small lesson, mostly sitting down, before giving the kids questions from the lesson to work on and then getting them to read.

At lunch, you came in a couple minutes after Melissa did and sat down with the trio like always. You liked to give Melissa and Barb time together even though they always invite you to join them at lunch. About 10 minutes into lunch, you got up, walk over to Melissa and gave her a kiss on the top of her head before hugging her from behind.

“Feeling better Mel?” You ask softly and she nods her head, leaning back into your touch.

“Ya Tesoro, thanks for the help this morning.”

“It’s not a problem. I love you and don’t want you in pain.” You tell her and she hums.

“And I love you too.”

“What time do you want me over tonight?” You ask her and her eyes widen slightly but you don’t see it as you're behind her.

“You’re coming over tonight?” She asks and you lean to the side and go forward a bit to see the side of her face.

“Of course, it’s Friday, I go over every Friday night.” You tell her.

“It’s Friday?” She asks confused and you nod. You then put a hand over her forehead, checking for a fever.

“You’re not running a fever are you?” You ask and she smiles at how caring you are with her.

“No, I'm not sick Tesoro. Just a long morning with the kids.” She says to you and you hum. “Your hug is nice.” She adds and you smile.

“That’s good because I plan on hugging you a lot tonight.” You say just as Ava walks in.

“Girl, you freaky!” Ava says, drawing the attention of everyone in the break room. You know Melissa is glaring at her as she looks at Melissa and then just goes to do her coffee without another word.

“Come over whenever you want Tesoro. But make sure it’s in time to eat dinner as I plan on cooking for you.” She tells you and you give her a kiss on the head.

“Alright, I’ll swing by my house quickly and then come over.” You tell her and she nods.

After school you go to your place quickly and pack a few things that you might need overnight as you’ve been sleeping at her house over the weekends.

You pull up at her driveway 30 minutes later and use the spare key she gave you to unlock her door and enter.

“Mel! I’m here!” You yell out and she doesn’t come to you and you look around for her. You take off your shoes and you go into the kitchen, thinking she might be in there and just didn’t hear you. She was in fact in there and she was leaning on the counter and had her fingers on her temple. “Mel, you alright?” You ask as you walk up to her. She jumps slightly and turns to look at you.

“Y/n! I didn’t know you were here.” She says and you smile.

“I just got here. I guess you didn’t hear me.” You say and giggle slightly. “Are you alright?” You ask her again and she nods and smiles at you.

“Ya, just a slight headache. I took some ibuprofen and I think it’s starting to kick in.” She tells you and you nod.

“Need some help with dinner?” You offer and she stares at you with a slight glare. “With like chopping or something like that. I know you like to do everything but I can help with something small like that.” You tell her.

Melissa started to say no but then felt some stiffness in her wrists and thought you doing the chopping might not be a bad thing.

“Ok, but only chopping some things.” She tells you sternly and you look at her shocked for a second as she was allowing you to help for once.

You help her chop up some vegetables needed for dinner while she does everything else. Dinner ends up being done in half an hour and you’re both setting up the table. After she puts the main dish on the table you wrap your arms around her waist from behind her and start planting kisses on her shoulder.

“Can I help you Tesoro?” She asks you with a smile.

“Nope, just enjoying being close to you.” You tell her and she leans into your touch. She then turns around in your arms, cups your cheeks and kisses you. You then deepen the kiss and she immediately pulls away.

“We should eat before it gets cold.”

“Fuck the food, I’d rather eat you.” You say and fear runs through Melissa.

“We should eat first so we have the energy.” Melissa tries again and this time you stop.

“Alright, good point.” You say and then the both of you go to eat.

After eating, you both do the dishes and then go sit on the couch and cuddle together. After about 20 minutes of cuddling, you start to run your hands all over her thighs.

“Tesoro, what are you doing?” She asks you.

“Teasing you, what’s it look like I’m doing?” You say plainly and she grabs your hand. “You said dinner first. And so I waited, and plus I’ve waited for 2 weeks.” You say to her with a pout.

“I’m just not in the mood, but I can definitely do it to you.” She tells you and you lay your head on her shoulder.

“I’m very good at getting you in the mood.” You say and then start to kiss and suck on her neck.

“Te-Tesoro.” She says a bit scared and you pull back and look at her.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” You ask her and she sighs.

“It’s- it’s nothing.” She tells you and looks away. You grab her chin and force her to look at you.

“It’s not nothing, what is it?” You ask again and she sighs but doesn’t say anything. “What’s going on with you recently? You think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been acting different?” You tell her.

“What do you mean? I haven’t been acting different at all.” She says sternly and gets up off the couch and goes to the kitchen and you follow her.

“Yes you have. Other than not having sex for 2 weeks, you’ve been having really aching joints, headaches, itchy eyes, you had a hot flash last weekend, mood swin- oh.” You say as it hits you and you carefully walk up to her. “Melissa…?” You start carefully and her head is facing the floor so you carefully grab her chin and get her to look at you. “Have you started menopause?” You ask softly and she nods while a tear runs down her cheek. “Hey, why are you crying?” You say as you wipe away the tear.

“It’s a huge sign of our age gap in the relationship. I thought you might get freaked out to be with someone who’s started menopause.” She says and you cup her cheek.

“Melissa, I’ve wanted to be with you for over a year before you finally went out with me. I’ve been so happy being with you, and if you let me, I’ll continue being happy with you, menopause or not.” Melissa lets out a sniffle at the end of your sentence. You pull her in for a hug and you feel her instantly relax into it. “When did you start?” You ask her as you pull away.

“About a month ago when my period was a week late and it was lighter than usual. And then after my period ended, I started getting more symptoms.” She admits and you smile softly at her.

“Ok, well how about we look to see what can help you with symptoms and whatever else you need. Like we can get you your own heating pad, some eye drops, maybe keep you stocked on ibuprofen.” You say and she looks at you lovingly.

“You’re too good for me.” She says as she kisses you.

“I’m just being a supportive girlfriend.” You say with a shrug. “This is a natural thing and you should be supported through it. Is there anything you need right now?” You ask and she thinks about it.

“I wouldn’t mind going up to bed and cuddling with my girlfriend as my joints are actually aching a bit right now.” She says and you nod.

“Alright I’ll get my bag from the car and I’ll be right up.” You say and she nods before making her way to the bedroom.

“You know, apparently there’s something called vaginal moisturiser. And it’s for a dry vagina.” She says as you make you enter the bedroom.

“I know, I got some when I kept getting dry when I was with my boyfriend. Having no idea that I kept getting dry cause I was a lesbian.” You tell her and she giggles. You join her on the bed and she immediately puts her head on your chest while you stroke her head.

“Thank you Tesoro.” She says as she looks at you.

“Anytime Mel.” You tell her and then place a kiss on her head.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

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@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

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@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

@sasheemo

@midnight-lestrange

@dashbag-art

Let me know if you want to be added!

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x oc #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti #x reader #fanfic #lisa ann walter #law #abbott elementary

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 7 months ago

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Pack mom!Stiles steter fics?

i anon! @kevaaronday made this list for you.

How A Pack Should Be by xcaellachx (1/1 | 25,071 | Teen | Steter) Ever since the Nogitsune caused havoc and nearly killed several people, Stiles had been alone. No texts, no emails, calls, nothing. Even his father had become distant and no longer acted when Stiles woke screaming in the night.

Giving the Hale/McCall pack one more chance, Stiles arrives at the loft for the pack meeting and is greeted by an unfathomable violent attack. From nearly every pack member.

After being warned he would be killed if he stayed in California, Peter and the few who supported Stiles, left for a new pack who loved them, taught them and made them a pack with a surprising new alpha.

In Violent Devotion by friendlyfiction (4/12 | 23,331 | Mature | Steter) 10 years ago, Peter Hale ran away from Beacon Hills and the promise that he made to a boy in love for the first time.

10 years ago, Stiles woke up in bed alone, left with broken promises and empty bed sheets.

In the decade since, they’ve both grown and changed, putting years and miles between themselves and the memory of what almost was until disparate circumstances bring these two men back to Beacon Hills, where their lives will once again collide.

They may be different people now, but will they still feel that same pull of violent devotion that drew them together in the first place?

All I Need Is You (And Cookies) by SincerelyLittle (13/13 | 18,196 | Gen | Steter) “Daddy Stiles!” those are the words that ring out the Hale’s backyard, everything seems to stand still for a moment while Stiles opens his eyes to the sight of long brown hair, beautiful brown eyes and a freckled face. He doesn’t blame anyone for believing the kid when she looks so convincingly like a daughter of his own would.

Since said child is so cute, he can forgive her for potentially starting world war 3 - or at least he thought he could until the next words were "Daddy Peter and I brought cookies!" At least he'll have cookies in the middle of battle.

No Grave Can Hold My Body Down by Ravenxxx97 (3/? | 9,481 | Explicit | Steter) Still wracked with guilt months after Peter's death, Stiles struggles to move on from the loss while everyone else focuses on the Kanima. His dreams are plagued with memories of Peter, both good and bad. After getting kidnapped by Gerard the night of the lacrosse game, Stiles is faced with the Argents' lies and is pushed to his limits as he fights to rescue himself, Erica, and Boyd. When he arrives to the warehouse to rescue Derek from Gerard and Allison, his world is turned upside down once again when he finds Peter Hale there, alive and breathing as if everything from the past few months never happened.

Can things between them be repaired?

I Crave Your Bite ( I belong to you ) by Suzuki_Motors (1/1 | 4,132 | Explicit | Steter) Stiles has known for awhile now that he wanted the bite. So what's stopping him when Derek would love to gift him such a thing?

#teen wolf #steter #stiles stilinski #peter hale #pack mom!stiles #anon

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moonbaby26 · 6 months ago

Text

Title: New Day

(Chapter 15 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader

Chapter Warnings: language, non con, dubious consent, fingering, vaginal sex, anal sex, angst, references to past chapters’ physical abuse, toxic relationship

Chapter Synopsis: The day after your near fatal incident instigated by Sir Crocodile, the rumor mill is churning both within and outside the palace walls as everyone now tries to understand what you really are to Doflamingo. Everyone including the demon at the center of it all himself.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16

——————————

It was a brand new morning. A beautiful day with the sun shining as the dark haired woman strode through the outdoor market. Even this early, music was already drifting from nearby, guitar strings were strumming as vendors finished setting up for their day.

Despite the rising tempo of that musician’s fingers over those strings, no one Viola saw was yet in a hurry. No one seemed nervous. She could hear laughter as people greeted one another, passing in the street. She could see their smiles.

This was her island and her people, briefly feeling to her as they always should have.

The Donquixote soldiers that were meant to be acting as her guards, she’d ordered to stay as far back from her as possible.

They would not be ruining this rare taste of freedom for her as she did come upon an older man seated on a stool with a guitar. The origin of the sound she’d been hearing for several minutes on her morning walk as she nodded down to him.

“Good morning, Señor. That song you were playing, it’s a favorite of mine. I was hoping to meet you.” She complimented him.

“Ah, you’re too young to know it.” He paused, a little surprised at her attention. But smiling gently at her all the same. “My wife taught it to me years ago. She sang and I played back then.”

And the way he said this, with that brief look in his eyes as he did, she knew what he really meant.

A wife that was no longer here. Someone that had been taken from him. But Viola still smiled softly. Because that sadness wasn’t an emotion she would want to truly lose. It was the shadow that love left behind. It was all they had left.

“My sister and I would attempt to sing that song.” She shared with him in return. “But she was the far better singer than me. She passed two years ago.”

This was the polite way people in Dressrosa referenced that tumultuous time, when hell had first opened its gates within their country.

And that devil’s sycophants were now the ones lingering, growing further impatient a few food stalls away.

But Doflamingo’s guards could wait. They could wait forever for all she cared.

“I suppose I haven’t tried much since then…to sing I mean. So would you play that song one more time please, Señor? It’s been so long. But today seems a bit special I think. I’d like to try to sing it again.” She told him.

And he laughed. “You young people and your romantic hearts! I’m sure you’ll be at the colosseum with all of the others today then? It seems quite fast doesn’t it? But I suppose no man wants to be alone forever. Even a king!” Yet he didn’t leave her time to agree or disagree, amused at her as he began strumming those opening chords once more.

A surprise announcement had come from the palace last night. Spreading quickly across the island all before midnight curfew.

This afternoon all were invited, or rather expected at the Corrida Colosseum. And the king himself would be in attendance. Unusual as of late, as he’d been devoting so much time to his growing underworld alone.

Those secret dealings seemingly his only focus all until that trip he’d taken to Mariejois, to the kingdom some called heaven. Something about a war on a distant island that he didn’t want the marines interceding in. Long enough ago now that Viola had gotten to bear witness to the accumulating changes in him every day since.

“In the heavens I would have power…” Viola’s voice began carefully, not fully out of tune. But certainly out of practice as she began the first verse in time with the man’s guitar.

And you, the marine woman that the officers’ whispers and minds had said Doflamingo had actually coveted for years, the one he’d first consummated with there at the home of the gods, would also be his official guest at the colosseum this evening.

Speculation was running wild through the citizens now of what this could all mean.

In the beginning Viola had not cared, except to pity you. She knew that all Doflamingo was was the thin skin of a man pulled tightly over the bones of a demon.

Yet an incident had occurred at the palace yesterday, enough to shake even her cynical heart.

“This night like the darkness within a well. With a knife made of moonlight I would cut the bars of your jail...” Her words kept on.

Doflamingo had kept her hidden away ever since your arrival. Yet more evidence that something may really be different here.

He didn’t want her to know his real plans for you. He didn’t want the two of you to meet.

Not yet.

“If I were the queen of the daylight, of the wind, and the sea, I would tie my own slave ropes in exchange for your freedom…”

The man who had never once hesitated to punish her by showing her the most grotesque and violent thoughts of what he’d like to do to new prey had suddenly been keeping everything to himself.

Why should it matter for her to know exactly how he wanted to break you? Rape you and defile you. Grind your will to dust, and then discard you once bored as he had to so many other men and women that had briefly caught his eye.

“Ay sorrow, little sorrow, sorrow of my heart…”

Doflamingo was a passionate man, even a romantic one in truth. But just at that most carnal level she had thought.

“I don’t wan’t flowers, money, or adulation.”

Violence, seduction, and jealousy were the only notes he excelled at within that complicated dance.

But yesterday there had been a culmination of tensions. Viola had been astonished to hear that panic going through the castle, to see it in so many anxious minds.

You had fought Trebol. You had fought Doflamingo himself.

And suicide is what that choice was, no matter the circumstances. Because it had never mattered to Doflamingo before whether or not someone was innocent. To go against the executives in any way, even in self defense, was absolute suicide. It was an attack on Doflamingo himself.

But maybe you weren’t the coward that she felt she was to hide amongst them. Maybe you had already refused her fate and chosen your own exit instead.

She would not have blamed you.

Yet all evening she had stressed. Wondering how Doflamingo would cover up your death. But every moment that she still even remembered who you were had been equally confusing.

Why hadn’t he at least brought you to Sugar?

But finally, late that night, something in her had insisted she show a bit of her own remnants of a spine. She had dared to use her sight to scan the palace for the king or yourself and learn the truth. She’d expected the worst. Your body torn apart, and new horrific tortures she’d never be able to unsee.

Yet that was not what she had found.

“I want you to let me cry for your sorrows, and to be at your side my dear, drinking the tears of your loneliness…”

Doflamingo was with you, yes. But not in one of the dungeons. Not with you screaming or begging for him to stop and to release you with death at last.

The Heavenly Demon had been curled around you in his own bed, clinging to you with a seeming level of anxiety she’d never witnessed in that creature before.

He had been watching you as you slept, a stricken look on his face.

“My eyes hurt because I look without seeing you…”

And this was the real reason Viola now spun, unable to stop from finally dancing a bit as well in the continued rhythm of that man’s guitar.

“Sorrow of my heart that flows within my veins, with the strength of a hurricane…”

Doflamingo was afraid.

“Sorrow, the same as a cloud of darkness and flint. A runaway colt that knows not where it goes…”

Doflamingo had a weakness at last.

“It’s a desert of sand, sorrow, it’s my glory in a jail. Ay, jail! Ay sorrow! Little sorrow…”

And it was a woman.

Viola had decided that she would do everything in her power to further your influence now.

She would force herself to live long enough to see if this little crack in him could spread.

A new opening in his blackened heart that may one day be big enough to force her dagger through.

———————————

Last night Doflamingo had remained strange. Mostly silent as his focus stayed split between his real body and what you assumed was the string clone still working for him somewhere else in the castle.

After making you eat, there had been that brief feel of tenderness though as you’d both undressed and he’d brought you into his shower.

The same powder of glass that’d still been in your hair from the fight, he’d then helped you to wash clean.

That and Trebol’s remaining mucus too. The warlord had kept you from losing your balance on your still weak legs, standing in the water’s spray with you as you’d scrubbed off the last of that residue.

You’d felt his cock against you too, half hard again without either of you even speaking to one another. But he hadn’t fucked you.

After drying back off, drinking, and eating more of the food his servants brought, you’d then fallen asleep nude in his bed even before the sun had set.

At times last night you’d felt his movements beside you. But he still didn’t talk. He didn’t make you open your eyes and interact with him.

And you were fine with that.

He’d already hurt you enough for one day. You’d had nothing else you wanted to give him as you’d kept up the imitation of sleep while he’d held you tightly.

The same as he still was now as you finally did look to the ceiling again. Just the faintest bit of new sunlight was escaping the edges of his closed curtains.

It remained dim here within his bedroom, cave like really as you felt his steady breathing against your skin. His face buried against your neck, his arms wrapped around your torso, and his legs curled up to trap your own.

But your body still ached. Now with those newest additions of a severely bruised sternum and ribs to match from you taking his hits nearly full on yesterday without armament.

He’d never given any further apology either. And the more you’d thought of even that briefest one, you’d realized it was only a-

Sorry I misread that situation.

Sorry their mistakes made me do that.

Not actual self-accountability. Not even a hint that he wouldn’t do it all again if fed bad information once more.

And you were stuck still reliving it. Hearing the door rip apart, and the glass break as he came for you, The pain when he threw you down and the pressure when you couldn’t breathe.

But that would fade as the bruises did. You knew in time you’d move on from that. Just like anytime you’d been hurt in the field, anytime you’d been knocked down before.

The thing you couldn’t shake as cleanly was how much it hurt inside as well this time. Because it wasn’t just physical pain any longer.

It’d hurt to look up at the man you still wanted as they’d started to crush your chest in.

That was a torture that should never happen to anyone.

But something touched your face and you startled from your spiraling thoughts.

Your head turned and you saw a crimson eye narrowed at you. The milky white one beside it still mostly closed against your shoulder as the pad of his finger wiped your newly wet cheek.

“Are you ever going to stop crying?” Doflamingo’s voice asked so abruptly then. Deep, but quiet in its continued proximity to you.

“I didn’t know that I was.” You answered honestly, caught off guard and letting the heel of your hand wipe the rest of that dampness away as you looked back to the ceiling.

He made a noise in response. Dismissive, but you could still feel his gaze on you.

“What’s done is done. It’s over.” He said next, making the easy assumption of what still had you rattled. And that bit of irritation was resuming in him already because of it.

But he didn’t know the real extent. You were sure that he didn’t.

“Sorry.” You were the one to say that useless word then. But you were just trying to end the subject. Trying to make him stop.

“You’re not.” He contended.

And your eyes did look back to him then. Fresh concern in your expression no doubt.

But you felt him just stretching his legs back out. His cock was soft, but it grazed you as he adjusted his hips. He was laying on his side with his body pressed to you so firmly still.

“What more do you want from me?” He spoke against your ear now. As if you were the one still being unreasonable. “I didn’t even maim you. What do you think I would have done to any other person on this island that took matters into their own hands as you did? Regardless of why.” He said next. His hand was sliding across your stomach now.

But his fingers just kept moving lower before you could answer. The longest finger, his middle one, parted your slit in one smooth movement to begin rubbing your clit.

And just like that it was all about what your body could give him again.

Whether you were ready for this or not.

And apparently you were not. Not as you heard your own voice so suddenly, firing back at him. “Well…did you fuck me yesterday morning too? Because that didn’t help! I woke up with strangers in the room, and then had that running down my leg. It could have been anyone!”

You’d taken that disgust out on Trebol too you were sure. Everything was connected in this continued trauma.

The movement of Doflamingo’s finger paused at your outburst.

That red eye stared at you, sharp and narrowed as he lifted his head again.

“Watch your tone with me, woman.”

Two of his fingers pushed right into your entrance then with that warning. He hooked those fingers actually, the pressure making your expression change.

“Doffy,” You grunted because it hurt.

It was meant to hurt.

“Of course I fucked you. And I don’t care if you could feel it or not. If you could remember it or not. I need you, you stupid bitch.” He answered though, with that tone of hatefulness reemerging all over again.

But you were watching his face.

You saw when he swallowed. When the contempt began to change to a more general upset the more aroused he became. “I can’t stop. Not when you’re the only thing that feels right.”

And there was the additional cruelty of his own inconsistent feelings.

He’d berate you. He’d hurt you, and in the very next breath he’d practically infer that he couldn’t exist without you.

His lips were on your jaw then too. You felt his tongue ghost against your skin.

His teeth nipped that same skin. “So quit acting like you don’t understand. Like you don’t want me too…you need this. You need me.”

The two fingers inside of you were now beginning to slide in and out. They pumped into you as his tongue stretched out further this time, leaving a long wet streak across the side of your face.

“But if you really are so offended…then do something about it. Punish me. Make me feel it. Fuck me back.” He taunted next.

“What?” You breathed, at a frustrating loss for his exact meaning while his fingers continued mercilessly. The way he’d said this gave away that it was now something different he was asking for.

“I’ll let you. I’d do that for you.” He grunted, his hips shifting suddenly as you now felt the tip of that awakened cock rubbing against you.

“I don’t…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And the words were already getting harder to say.

Harder to think of as you felt yourself getting wetter for him regardless. His fingers moving in and out so much easier now.

“Your cunt wants a break doesn’t it?” His crudeness continued. “Your ass too after what I did to you, right? I fucked you so hard when I was in there the other night, didn’t I?”

And you were feeling more heat inside of you with every insulting word.

But he was starting to smile again. He looked so hungry actually. “Then do it to me. I’ll show you how.”

His thumb was back over your clit, working it in tandem to his fingers now quickening their already rough pace inside.

“Cum for me, and then I’ll let you fuck me. We’re both going to feel good today after the shit we got put through. We deserve this.”

Oh, so now you were a team all of the sudden? As if the power imbalance here wasn’t still so extreme.

But it didn’t matter.

Not when Doflamingo’s tongue was now forcing its way past your teeth.

You heard and felt him moan into your mouth. It was so dirty. So unrestrained really as your thighs opened up even more for him.

You were both disgustingly pathetic.

And the wet sound of his fingers in and out of you only made everything that much worse as you started clenching around his fingers.

That tension was building in your belly.

“Cum for me…let go. You’re so close already aren’t you, love?” He broke the kiss enough to say this against your mouth. Right before he nipped your bottom lip.

The sharp little pain was almost simultaneous to that whip like feel. Like a tightening rope finally snapping inside as you felt your body tremble and hot fluid wash over his fingers.

Doflamingo inhaled sharply, looking down at the unexpected mess that had made.

The humiliation you felt was instant, but the remnants of the full body orgasm he’d just given you weren’t easily dismissed either.

You were panting.

And you heard him laugh. He laughed before his face was then nuzzling back into yours.

“I guess I should have let you take a piss before we started, huh?”

It wasn’t excessive. But it was well enough for you both to know that couldn’t all be female ejaculate. Enough to make a wet spot you could now feel beneath you on the bed.

“Asshole.” You muttered, even with his face still warmly against yours.

“It means I fucking rocked that sweet spot, didn’t I, marine?” He sounded all too smug in response. And even more flirty too as he kissed the side of your face. “Don’t be embarrassed, lover…even though you’re goddamn cute when you are. We’re not done yet anyway. Now it’s my turn.”

His grin widened too then as his fingers finally slid back out of you. He just wiped that hand on the dryer portion of the bedsheets before he flung the blankets fully away to better expose himself to you.

Doflamingo let go of you to move onto his back, propping himself into the pillows and looking so comfortable then before he motioned to the nightstand.

“Be a good, wet girl for me then, and crawl over there to get the biggest one so we can play some more. It’s all or nothing for me.” And he sounded like he was goddamn bragging. Bragging and commanding you all at once as your mind had yet to fully accept what was now happening here.

You were still trying to process the orgasm that had made your legs feel like jelly all over again.

What in the fuck was your actual life in this moment as you did crawl across the mattress eventually, then on your knees at its edge before you could reach the drawer of his nightstand and pull it open.

Which was a sight that really should not have been meant for your naive eyes. There were toys in there that you didn’t even know the use of. Intimidating things you were afraid to even goddamn touch as you peered down into that private stash.

Packs of condoms were there too, different kinds of lubes, and more…pills? They weren’t the same shape or color as the ones you’d taken before. They were in a clear bag, beside another bag with some kind of white powder inside of it.

The fuck was that?

You did not want to reach your hand in.

“Just grab a dildo, woman. This doesn’t have to be complicated.” Doflamingo chided. A little louder then, getting more impatient.

And you did have to force yourself. Pushing the unknown things out of the way to sort through some of the more familiar looking style of toys.

You pulled one out that seemed to be the largest like he’d requested, and it looked entirely painful by your personal standards. Bigger than any of those he’d used on you the other night. But honestly, very close to his own physical size once you glanced back at him with the toy in your hand.

“That’ll do.” He smirked. “I couldn’t remember how many I still had in there.”

And he settled back even further into the pillows, putting his arms briefly behind his head as he began spreading his legs.

“Don’t worry about lube, beautiful…let me see you use that mouth of yours instead.”

“What?” You stared.

His always impressive cock was flushed with blood by this point, hard for this long already without any relief. Rising up from that fine blond pubic hair and pointing firmly towards the ceiling as he held his thighs open shamelessly to show you it all.

One of his hands did move back down, lifting his own sack off of the mattress as he began to palm it.

“Suck the toy, marine. Deep throat that if you can. I want it good and wet before I show you how to really take it.”

But you didn’t want to. Your hesitation clearly said as much.

And his reactions were becoming that much sharper in response.

“Oh goddamn it, don’t be so high maintenance. Anything in that drawer was already washed. It’s clean.”

Your eyebrows still lowered. Yes, even you knew how arbitrary it seemed on the things you would finally resist him on.

But the way he was leering at you, the way his legs were spread eagle and waiting like you owed him this. This wasn’t even an experience you had had before.

And something about it made you feel more like a whore than ever.

“What is wrong with you?” Came his exasperated tone next when you still hadn’t put that dildo in your mouth.

And your shoulders sank. He was on that edge of getting angry all over again.

“If you fucking cry one more time…” He still fussed as your posture had changed however. That blood vessel starting to show in his forehead. “I already said I was sorry, (Y/N)!”

That damn word again. But it sounded so petulant this time.

So desperate.

“Just give me that, you idiot.” And a string had jerked the dildo from your hand. Pulling it away from you and into his grip instead as his tongue angrily ran out to run the length of it.

He put the whole thing in his own mouth soon after even as he glared at you.

Spit edged from his lips as he began to suck it.

You were of course stunned once more. Discomfort still there for you too as you watched this inexplicable scene while Doflamingo’s cheeks hollowed out with that purposeful sucking. And he didn’t choke at all, nearly the full length of the toy then within his mouth as he pumped it in and out briefly while watching you spitefully.

When he did pull it all the way out again, spit was fully down his chin and soaked across that toy.

He did not care.

“That’s how it’s fucking done.” He growled, but still not looking away from your face. “Get over here. Now.”

And you did comply again then. But with that unwillingness still in your expression as you crawled back to him on the bed.

As soon as you were close enough though, his hand that was not holding the toy shot up to catch you by your throat.

You made a defensive sound and he smirked as he felt the resistance of your armament already beneath his squeezing hand.

“Why does everything have to be this difficult lately? I thought we were having fun.” He lamented, actually unable to make you choke that easily in how strongly your armament was then shielding you. You weren’t as weak as you’d been yesterday.

And he sighed when you still wouldn’t submit to this even rougher play. But he smiled again as he let you go just as abruptly. He finally used the back of his hand to wipe his chin then.

“I just want you to fuck me, lover…I don’t take rejection well you know. You’re hesitating too much. You’re hurting my feelings.”

The last words were said mockingly. But he was still goddamn insane, as usual. Just jumping from one emotion to the next. Had either of you even been awake long enough yet to already be going through all of this?

You took a deep breath. “I’m not rejecting you, Doffy. I’m just-“ Overwhelmed? Depressed? Traumatized?

“I just want things not to hurt. I don’t want anything else to hurt right now.” You managed, but still feeling at a complete loss of how to make someone like him understand any of this if even for a moment.

And the responding coldness in his eyes was far from comforting as he grabbed your wrist this time, bringing you onto his lap to straddle him.

“But life is pain. So why ask me for the impossible?” His tone was still short, but his volume did quiet as he held you there.

With you there between his legs, he brought that still wet dildo down between you both. He inhaled, letting your wrist go as he reached to grab himself again. He was then holding his own balls up and out of the way as he moved that toy beneath them.

He still spoke to you as he did, his eyes on yours as he angled it against his own opening that you could not see. “The important thing is that we can now hurt together. You have me. And I’m showing you my pain too, aren’t I? I’m letting you in.”

And he groaned a little, you getting to see that true discomfort move across his face as the tip first entered him.

You were silent as Doflamingo breathed deeper, him pausing as if to adjust to even that much of it inside of him.

“Damn. It really has been a while...” He said, like he was a bit taken aback himself at the new feeling.

But with it now started, his large hand moved back over your wrist.

His grip was warm, and far more gentle this time as he guided your hand to the base of that toy.

“I want it to be you.” He breathed again. There was no mask of a smile any longer. Just this man looking up at you needfully, anxiously even as he made your hand close around the toy. “Push it in, love. Fast or slow…whatever feels right to you. I trust your judgement…please.”

And even if you were sure that every new word of his was fully intended to make you have the exact reaction that you now were, this still wasn’t something you could control.

You felt the new heat in your chest as his tone had changed. You were embarrassed again. It felt like you’d never even had sex before all of the sudden.

And of course you hadn’t like this. Not with the roles reversed this way.

You knew what it felt like for you though, to have that pressure just edging your entrance. The longer you made him wait, the less kind that would be, wouldn’t it?

Oh, you were so in over your head though. Yourself flustered and him still never looking away from you as you finally did start to push it in him.

Doflamingo gasped quietly, his lips parting in a way that immediately had you feeling some kind of way between your own legs again.

Your body was fully confused in this moment actually.

But his wasn’t. You saw his abdominal muscles tense and even his cock twitch as you still slid that thick toy gradually deeper inside of this man.

The resistance was weird, but you could tell he was relaxing as much as he could. You were being so mindful of his expressions too. Even pausing to let him adjust again whenever you’d see that brief flit of pain reenter his eyes.

And something about that level of care from you did bring a rare softer look across his attractive face. “I knew it…” He chuckled despite himself. “If you had a dick, you’d be so gentle with it at first. Wouldn’t you, my love? So responsible with your weapons.”

He was smiling again then, a fully pleasured one before he let out a small moan when you did continue pressing in again.

“Almost flush…come on.” He said next. His eyes were going half lidded too. A near look of adoration in them now for you. “It feels so good, woman…don’t stop.”

It was hard to look away from those rare emotions either, you not wanting to miss out on any of what he was now offering you in return.

But you also found yourself uneasy to finally realize that all of that toy but the bit you were still holding onto had now disappeared.

It was all the way in. He’d really taken it so well.

And he was still laying on his back beneath you, thighs spread wantonly with his head and shoulders just barely propped up in the pillows as a new urge overcame you.

You left the toy fully in him as you moved back up that long torso of his just enough to kiss him again.

And this surprised him. Likely so much of his focus already just on that sensation of being filled, waiting for you to start thrusting before your mouth was abruptly over his.

But he certainly didn’t stop you. Far from it as his mouth opened in return, wanting to taste you again immediately as you felt his hips roll. His hand grabbed into your hair to hold you to him long enough to deepen that kiss as well.

“Oh, fuck,” Doflamingo breathed against your lips in between kisses, nipping them briefly again when he didn’t want to let go of you. “You don’t know what you do to me…no one…they didn’t do it like this.”

And he wasn’t even making sense now.

But he was trying to.

So you did pull back a little, your hand then stroking down his chest as you listened to him.

And even that additional soft touch set him off too. His hips rolled hard again as he looked at you desperately. “Why…why are you like this? Why are you so good to me?” He managed, finally articulating what he really meant with the last words. “Why are you so kind to me?”

Of course that question stunned you all over again. But not just for hearing it from his mouth. Because you weren’t sure how he’d even come to that conclusion, and right now of all times.

“I…what did I do?” You asked genuinely, letting him begin kissing your jawline again when you hadn’t yet moved back fully away yet.

“This. Goddamnit all of this.” His frustration was palpable. But he didn’t want to stop. “You…you don’t just fuck me. You kiss me…you hold me. You pet me…it drives me fucking crazy.”

Really? Just because of those simple things?

Your own surprise was surely evident. In all the bodies he must have partaken of through the years, you were somehow a standout?

And for what?

Just for being intimate with him? For giving instead of just taking or cowering?

“Doffy…don’t you get it?” You asked him suddenly then. Your hand was still warm over his chest. You had paused your palm there as you could feel his heartbeat beneath his muscles. That beat was growing faster. “I give you what I would want. I mean…why wouldn’t I do that?”

And his hand moved over yours against his chest. He squeezed your hand, very tightly but not quite painful.

He smirked darkly. “You…are either the best or the worst thing that has ever happened to me in this hellhole.” But his hips moved again as that laugh of his emanated out. “So fuck me like you love me. Finish me properly.“

Almost gently he pushed you back then, back down to sit near his open legs again as he put your hand back on the end of that toy.

It was clear what he wanted most now, rolling his hips again as he watched you needfully.

And so you did it. No more stalling as you gave your monster what he wanted. Thrusting that toy at whatever speed he would take.

First slow, and then faster as you got to watch the king of Dressrosa begin to fully unravel for you.

But you felt no guilt. Nor did he want you to. Doflamingo’s approval was clear in the way he threw his head back and even arched against the mattress the more you pressed.

“Fuck…yes, it’s been too long…yes, just like that…” He moaned as those claws of his began fisting into the bedsheet.

And before long it was your own name repeatedly leaving his panting chest.

You would have been lying to say it wasn’t making new slick between your own legs to hear his normally prideful voice start to break for you that way too.

But you were still more focused on what you were doing to him. Not what it was causing in you as his eyes met yours again.

“Harder…I know you can. Please, (Y/N).” He was already speaking in gasps now. But you still obliged, feeling like you were holding a damn dagger by this point.

Being told to stab it into him over and over, working your wrist and your arm to do so.

His poor cock looked to be painful by now as well as it bobbed in the air with the continued movement of his hips, nothing to thrust into as it leaked precum all over the head.

And in all of his panting and the increasing volume of your name across his lips like some kind of prayer, the thought did finally cross your mind to do something with that neglected cock.

He didn’t deserve it of course. Not after all he’d already done to you. You’d just told him how messed up it’d been that he’d still fucked you when you were blacked out too. You’d told him you wanted a break from hurting.

But his moans kept on. This shameless motherfucker who could abuse you so thoroughly, and then turn around the very next day and gladly put on a vulnerable display like this.

Your own renewed slick was now thick enough to actually begin edging out. Gravity bringing a hint of it onto your thigh in the way you were currently positioned as your hand still moved to keep fucking Doflamingo.

You didn’t want to get pounded by him yet. You really didn’t as your body was still very unhappy in all the damage it had accumulated recently.

But just being filled yourself for a moment? You could tolerate that couldn’t you? He wasn’t going to be lasting much longer anyway. The changing rhythm of his panting always gave him away when he was already this near climax.

What would his face be if you did this though? Would that expression be worth any additional price you were about to pay?

His eyes were closed now, he was living for those sensations you were rocking through his body as his hips moved in time with your non stop thrusting of that toy.

Which made it trickier. Keeping your hand and arm movement going, thankfully with some marine stamina to help you out there as you raised up onto your spread knees.

Just open enough to fit him between your thighs of course.

And the mattress movement as you shifted wasn’t enough to warn him. Even if it was, he likely thought you were only trying to find a more comfortable way to sit.

He couldn’t know anything was actually different until he’d felt the first touch of something against the tip of his weeping cock.

But by the time his eyes had opened, your slick had made that initial push all too easy. Just that brief spike of pressure to clear the head, and that small gasp of pain from you before you had slid down onto as much of his length as you could take.

Your channel squeezed around him immediately as his girth stretched you painfully as always, tight to the point of almost being too much to withstand.

And the absolutely awestruck look on Doflamingo’s face as he fully realized what you’d just done, without even being asked to, was an expression you doubted you’d ever see from him again. He nearly came right then and there with that surprise you were sure.

Only you stopping your thrusting of the toy briefly then as you’d tried to adjust to him inside of you had allowed him that extra time to process this.

You were still having to hold yourself up a little as well, not wanting to put too much pressure against your cervix as you watched the man beneath you try to remember his own voice.

You had rendered the Heavenly Demon speechless. Though his hands wasted no time finding your hips, helping you steady yourself on his length.

Reflexively you tightened on him again and you felt his cock twitch inside of you in response.

He took another shaky breath, still staring at you like you weren’t even human any longer. Like you had materialized straight from the heavens to anoint him with this dual pleasure.

“Let go of the toy,” his voice was practically a rasp when it finally did reemerge. “I’ll move it. You just sit there and stay tight on me…god, gods I can’t…I…fuck I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

And he sounded like he was pleading, or dying. Like you were actually killing part of this man.

But you saw his fingers move. You were getting better at seeing his strings too. The tiny glimmers they made even here in the shadows of those still closed curtains.

His strings were now hooked to the toy. He was going to fuck himself while you took care of his cock in the way only you could.

And once that did restart, with the toy moving in and out with his strings and you rocking your hips and squeezing around his attention starved shaft simultaneously, Doflamingo let out a euphoric moan louder than any before it. One they had to have heard all the way downstairs.

And it was your name he was calling out to the world.

Like a curse and a salvation for him all at once. It was a fucking scream as he finally came.

He was shuddering, thrusting up into you as you felt his cock pulse again and again. Each pump a shot full of his seed, hot and purposeful.

“Yes…goddamn yes,” he was still panting, still trembling as he pulled you down onto his body. His cock continuing to empty itself inside of you as he held you to him.

And you let him do it. You breathed with him, the heat of that fire between you both so apparent again.

It had become make up sex with a king. Reconciliation with your warlord as one of his hands moved back into your hair and the other went protectively across your back.

He was caging you to him as his chest rose and fell. And you closed your eyes in that warmth, silent again just to hear him breathing.

You did love this part of it. You really did.

If only it was enough to ever outweigh every other fault in you both.

—————————

He’d let the servants open the curtains at last while they’d delivered breakfast at his command. This new sunlight filling the dining area not being something he’d normally ask for. He usually liked it cooler, darker in here within his chambers. A less stimulating environment when he needed that to withdraw to.

But he wanted to see you better this morning. He wanted to appreciate what was still fully novel to him as you sat near him. Just the two of you sharing a quiet breakfast at the long table in his suite.

He’d only pulled on a pair of pants. Shirtless and barefoot, blond hair not even combed yet as he ate while watching you.

Sex always made him hungry. And he knew you were still working from a caloric deficit anyway. He’d figured out already that you ate less and less the more stressed you were.

Like bringing home an exotic pet, he had to learn your environmental quirks. He had to force you to stay healthy enough to survive after all of his personal investment already in you.

And he’d known there’d be an adjustment period. Some violence surely if you were pushed too far, too fast.

But Crocodile had thrown fuel on that fire. And it’d nearly worked. Just like everything that reptile did. The plan was almost good enough, but fell short in the final leg. A stumble right at the finish line.

He hadn’t even called Crocodile yet either. Though Doflamingo’s mind had churned with so many thoughts of revenge and how close he’d really come to losing you. Painfully angry even long into last night as he’d lain awake holding you while thinking of how to fix this.

That sandy fucker had no right to toy with him now. And just like in Scylla, when Doflamingo had had to abruptly pivot, deciding to bring you home then and there after Crocodile’s attack, he’d felt his hand being forced yet again now.

He had to let his enemies know there was no indecisiveness in him. You weren’t just a new distraction they may be able to harm and thereby simply annoy him or force him to negotiate for.

This wasn’t him just taking a new mistress for fun. This was him setting up the future that he wanted. You were his family now.

And he was going to let the world know. Then if anyone still dared to come for you, they’d have to do so in full knowledge of the scorched earth that would bring them.

No one harmed his family.

“After we eat, I do have some more things to take care of this morning. But I need you dressed in your best marine garb for this afternoon. I’m taking you to the colosseum then. And I’m expecting practically every seat to be filled there. Diamante is quite the promoter for special events like this.”

The piece of potato omelette still on your fork held there for a moment as you glanced over to him. You so casual yourself in some faded marine training shirt, the material thinned enough that he had been enjoying you clearly being braless beneath it.

“To fight?” You asked surprisingly serious.

Enough so that he scoffed, rolling his uncovered eyes at you. You were still an idiot at times. Still a human after all. “To spectate, darling.” Not that the idea of you fully healed, running around the arena breaking jaws with your kicks and slitting throats with that rope dart of yours wasn’t a very strong turn on in its own right.

There weren’t many female gladiators. The public would eat that shit up if you could be flashy enough about it. You were a bit serious when you fought right now.

Maybe after the child came. You’d probably be itching by then for some postpartum violence and a return to form.

You were a warrior after all.

“We’ve fallen off of the front page again in the papers if you hadn’t noticed. I think it’s time for another public appearance.”

“Why would I want to be in the newspaper? Fuck that.” And you did start eating your omelette again then.

It was obvious the drugs were back out of your system at least. Those pills had dulled you so much yesterday. Your attitude was back in full force today.

But he was in a good mood now. Getting to penetrate you while you penetrated him was an itch he had not expected to be so thoroughly scratched this morning. That had been fucking paradise actually. “Because you want to help our dear mother, don’t you?” Doflamingo taunted, smirking in full knowledge of how much this was going to push your buttons.

And you stilled again, giving him a colder look immediately there. “Tsuru?” You still had to ask.

“Obviously.” He confirmed. “I mean, you’re not fully stupid I know.” He was just being a dick for the sake of it now. He was enjoying every additional interaction with you actually. “Haven’t you wondered why she’s been stationed on the same pitiful island chain for weeks upon weeks now? A strategist like her should have had that rebellion extinguished in days.”

“Have you had your hand in it?” You accused abruptly then.

And he was honestly a little surprised at that. But you were still learning him too. He could forgive it for now. He had obviously benefited by her being away there for so long too. Those circumstances alone had practically dropped you into his lap.

“I don’t interfere with Tsuru-san. Not as Joker, not as me. No, I cut all ties with Lyra as soon as she got assigned there. I’m not the one delaying her.” He said honestly, even through the remaining skepticism in your eyes.

“It’s the world government that decided to bury that place, long and slow with blockades she’s been ordered to maintain. And Big News Morgans has started snooping around about it. So many have died. He’ll drag Tsuru’s name through the mud too if he doesn’t have a better story to sell papers with soon. So you and I can be that story and save her the defamation.”

“How many have died?” You were starting to look more bothered. You were realizing you may actually believe him.

As you should, because he was telling the goddamn truth for once. “Probably a good thirty percent of the total population. But nearer fifty, even sixty percent in certain towns. Because the government is also using that rebellion as the perfect testing ground for some new lab grown diseases of theirs. With Tsuru maintaining their blockade, there’s no medical assistance in or out either. No one to tell on them of how unnatural that contagion really is.”

“Then how would you know?” You were still trying to hope he could be wrong.

And there he did grin again, smugly as his legs spread a little once more beneath the table.

“Lover, have you already forgotten what exactly it is I do for a living? I’m not just your personal cock toy…though I am enjoying the benefits of that new role.”

“Then is Tsuru okay…is my crew okay?”

Oh how sad. Like a puppy missing its littermates. “Of course she’s fine. The government didn’t allow the marines to enter any of the diseased towns either. They’ve got Cipher Pol quarantining those. Your little troop has been spending all their time stopping blockade runners and sniping the surviving rebels in the mountains.”

But he saw the way you still didn’t look satisfied. “Why didn’t she tell me…she never said it was that bad.”

“You know how she is. She probably thought you had enough on your plate. Namely…me.” He smiled again.

“I should be with them.” And it was like you were talking to yourself then. The new guilt in your expression was obvious.

But finally here, he did feel that bit of irritation trying to start in him again. Yes, he knew how attached you must still be to your crew. Tsuru had saved you. No different than him pulling Baby 5, Monet, and Sugar from poverty and what would have only been a life of sexual abuse mixed with the constant threat of starvation for those girls otherwise.

And had never touched them. He would never dream of it in that context. They were family.

He could do these things to you though, because he’d seen you as a potential mate even from first sight.

They were like little sisters to him. But you were not. Even if he may tease you as such, with Tsuru as the common maternal thread between you.

“They’re fine without you.” He said carefully. Actually trying not to let his jealousy fully burst out. He didn’t want this good mood ended already. “I need you here.”

And it was intentional, the way he moved with his long arm easily reaching out for his hand to close over yours on top of the table.

“Like I said, we can help Tsuru-san here by being a good distraction. So she doesn’t have to deal with public accusations of mass murder that she has zero control over. I know she’s still been letting some medicine and food get through in secret anyway. She’s doing the best she can while still playing by the government’s rules on the surface. That woman is incorruptible. As always.”

And you still looked sad. Annoying to him really when he was right here in front of you, giving you his full attention this way. He wanted your mind on this feeling between the two of you instead, thinking of him alone.

“(Y/N).” He said, relaxing his eyes as best he could. Emoting as best he could to regain your focus. “I need you.” He reiterated, even more intentional this time. Even more heartfelt he supposed it would be called. A skill that could be practiced and honed like any other tool in his manipulations of course. “This is your home now. With me.”

——————————

Your hands were in the pockets of your marine coat, intentionally so he could not hold either of them as your boot heels clicked on the stone streets.

What were you supposed to do? Doflamingo would have pulled you out here on his strings anyway if you hadn’t come willingly.

He wouldn’t have allowed their group to be humiliated by a no show when Diamante had already promised the public an appearance from you both this afternoon.

But you still didn’t buy any of his shit about this being a performance for Tsuru’s sake. Though you were now worrying for her and your crew still as you did your best to keep a neutral expression.

The Donquixote foot soldiers were keeping the curious onlookers at bay as you walked with Doflamingo towards the Corrida Colosseum.

Reporters had remained on the island, hoping for this very thing as cameras now flashed again and questions were yelled out to you both here and there.

For now the warlord was ignoring them though. Those red sunglasses rarely looked away from you.

“You know it’s a bit insulting for you to still be wearing that weapon when we’re out together.” Doflamingo said then, but that amusement so clear in his tone. “I’m all the weapon you need you know…”

Unless the civilians were excellent lip readers, they wouldn’t know what kind of small talk was really occurring here in the other noise of the crowd. And you were still so cognizant of everything you did with your own body language as you kept your eyes on the street ahead and where you were walking.

“If I’d had my weapon on in Scylla I wouldn’t have to still be dealing with this failed amputation.” You replied dryly. That swordsman never would have been so lucky if you just could have disarmed him with a haki infused rope and strangled him until he confessed who he was really working for.

“You left my side that night, darling. That was your own fault.” Doflamingo still chided though. Followed with a taunting, “But you’re barely limping today. Perhaps they won’t even notice with your legs covered this way. Does it still ache?”

You had chosen to wear leggings beneath your skirt this time. Covering the wound and all those bruises. “It hurts like fuck, you ass.” You said lowly.

And he almost cackled at the abruptness of that.

So much so that you finally did look up at him in mild surprise.

“Didn’t Tsuru ever try to wash out that filthy mouth?” He practically cooed afterward.

Only then as you saw some young women giggling and blushing in your peripheral vision did you realize that to everyone else’s eyes this must look like real flirting, like familiarity already.

His attention was so clearly on you, the tall man walking fully at your side to better interact. Not even in front of you this time to lead. And him then laughing and smiling as if you’d said something endearing.

Prince charming is who they somehow still thought he was, a fairytale come to life right before their eyes. They had no understanding of what lay behind it at all.

But you couldn’t judge their ignorance. Not when you knew so much more and were still right here beside him.

This very same man that had shown you the edge of death yesterday. And the same man you’d willingly climbed on top of this morning to briefly ride the cock of as he screamed out your name.

What a cursed pair the two of you were.

And he actually looked happy about it, proud even.

This bastard was out here living his best life while you were trying not to have another breakdown.

Yes, what a complete shitshow this really was.

———————————

There had been lines all the way down the street just for admittance today. And it was even more of a madhouse once they’d gotten inside. This former gladiator knew the corridors well here however, holding the young girl’s hand firmly as he hopped at her side.

“Please stay close. Keep your face covered.” He reminded her yet again as he saw her getting distracted in all the spectacle.

“It’s hot, and I don’t like this on my face.” She still complained though, looking back down at him with her small voice almost lost in all the boisterous conversations around them.

“We’re only staying long enough to see what all this fuss is about. Then we’ll be going home.” Home being only the latest abandoned hovel that no one would search for her in. He hadn’t been able to convince Rebecca to stay there today while he made this rarer trip to the city.

But, it also hadn’t taken much of her arguing with him either really. The little tin soldier was still afraid to leave his young daughter alone out there in the countryside for long.

The girl who didn’t even know she had a father any longer while he kept tightly with her on their way to the public seating.

The sheer number of people here made her being recognized rather unlikely. But it was always a risk. So he’d made her tie a scarf around her face. Just below her wide and anxious eyes as inconsiderate adults bumped her this way and that in the crowd.

Kyros had to restrain himself not to say anything on her behalf. Knowing a normal toy would never make such a spectacle against humans.

He needed to remain focused as well. All the top members of the Donquixote family were now in attendance.

His contact from the Tontattas had confirmed this. Even as the dwarves had been equally excitable with the fact that they had indeed still seen you alive this morning.

Details of yesterday had been rather spotty with the dwarves intense fear of Doflamingo making them rather unwilling to visit the palace for long. And certainly never letting themselves become trapped in the same room with him.

But Kyros understood there had been some sort of fight yesterday. That you had stood up to Trebol to break his nose even. A wound that executive still had bandaged today in fact.

It was truly unheard of.

So of course the dwarves and their optimistic hearts were already whispering of miracles.

They said Doflamingo had spared you out of affection.

Everything was always face value to them until brutally proven otherwise.

But Kyros had been in the throne room that first night of the invasion. He’d seen the truly pleasured smile on that animal’s face as King Riku had kneeled broken before him. While the former king had begged before that monster for mercy that Dressrosa would never see.

The little tin soldier could not fathom any love ever existing within such a wicked man.

Doflamingo was but a conqueror thirsting for more every moment, every second. More power, more control, more blood, and more suffering.

He was a beast that must be slayed for any of them to ever know freedom again.

So Kyros had come to witness this new lie with his own metal eyes. Because the Tontattas were surely misconstruing it somehow.

They thought you must have some special power over even Doflamingo’s missing heart. They wanted to believe in you so badly.

They hoped that a kind queen may soon rise to free them.

But Kyros had begged them to wait, to not make contact with you yet.

Even if you had wished to help them, it didn’t mean that you could. It could be only another elaborate trap, you but another puppet on that demon’s strings.

And the Tontattas weren’t alone in their immediate emotional investment in you either. That was clear in the excitement of the crowd as the tin soldier and Rebecca finally found an empty space they could cram into between other spectators.

Like every other toy now in this stadium though, the war for this country had never ended for Kyros. His anguish and hatred were still the only real feelings he could muster as the humans beside him cheered when their king did finally appear. A blond devil grinning wide within the royal viewing box.

The very root of all that was wrong with their home. Their captor and tormentor, now with you at his side.

—————————

Diamante had truly outdone himself today. It was perfect really. Only even furthering Doflamingo’s excellent mood as he heard the crowd now cheering his name.

He reached out, his fingers catching briefly over your hip as he guided you to sit beside him in the open air box.

You tensed at even that small of a touch though. You were still wishing to remain so proper in public.

That time was about to be ending though. And he already was broadcasting that to anyone paying attention. Which was everyone of course as he extended his long arm over the stone seat back just behind you once you had sat at his side.

Gatz’s voice was already loud over the stadium’s speakers, welcoming the crowd to this afternoon of special exhibition matches put on by request of his majesty who was now gracing them with his rare presence.

Because it really had been a while since he’d been to the colosseum in person. He’d been too busy with his responsibilities as Joker, too busy with chasing you.

But now you were here and so was he. And you’d just noticed the large projection screen. Normally meant to showcase the highlights of the battles below to the crowd. But those visual transponder snails were focused on the royal booth in this moment to the people’s further delight as you quickly looked away.

“Don’t be so cold.” Doflamingo spoke to you with that continued amusement. “You’re still representing your precious marines here too you know. Don’t you care about this island’s citizens? They’re dying to get a chance to catch your eye…”

Quite literally perhaps.

On Doflamingo’s orders, Diamante had already let his prisoner gladiators know of today’s special rules.

With you as his official guest, whichever fighter was judged as performing the best in the matches to come would earn the unheard of right of a full pardon. Not that unattainable thousand match bullshit that Diamante normally tortured them with.

But that pardon would come from none other than you. Just for today, Doflamingo would be granting you that authority, though you didn’t know it yet.

He wanted them to love you. He couldn’t show much mercy, even when used as a tactic with ulterior motives. Because he had to maintain full control here. But you could. You could be the facade of the softer hand when he needed one.

Doflamingo could have you secure the trust of even the ones that already knew enough to fear him. And you could help him weed out more of the traitors then when they’d inevitably come to you for help.

He was smiling, you making his life better in every way in this moment as he got comfortable. Legs spread again, his knee against yours as one of the servants brought the first tray of drinks by.

And he knew there was a diamond ring in his pocket as well. The one he’d picked out from the jeweler’s tray Monet and Sugar had presented him with earlier today when he’d told you he had a few things to take care of before getting ready to come here.

By this time tomorrow every piece of trash that had ever tried to cross him would be seeing a picture of that ring on your hand in the newspaper.

It was a fucking beautiful day to be king. A beautiful day to have everything back under his control, including you.

———————————

T⨂ BE

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

Author’s note: The song that Viola sings in the beginning is just my own English bastardization/loose translation for story purposes of the Spanish song “¡Ay Pena, Penita, Pena!”. Please go listen to the real thing.

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dfortrafalgar · 9 months ago

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Special Delivery

(Sanji x Fem!Reader- Offscreen)

Sanji reaches out to Zeff for the first time in years.

I wrote this many, many months ago now, and it was the first fic i posted anonymously on AO3. I got a few requests after it was originally posted to write a second part, which I eventually did!

You can read Part 2 here! Original AO3 link

(I figured I should let my blog breathe a little in between the really heavy and emotional Law fic im writing, and what better way to cool down than some sanji fluff <3)

A sharp squawk awoke Red-Leg Zeff from his daze. With a grumpy expression and a low grunt, he peered towards the direction of the sound.

A messenger coo was seated on the railing of the Baratie's upper deck next to where Zeff stood slouched over with his forearms leaning against the wooden support. It cocked its head to the side as if it was deconstructing Zeff's appearance before reaching into its pouch and procuring a parchment envelope. Zeff found it strange. Messenger coos only usually delivered the newspapers or the latest bounty reports, very rarely were they put in charge of personalized letters. It must have been paid off by whoever wanted this delivered.

The gruff man took the parchment from the beak of the bird and watched as it took back off into the air, leaving a few molted white feathers behind in its wake. He looked at the envelope.

All it said on the front, in very elegant handwriting, was "Captain Zeff." He flipped the paper around, revealing a wax stamp holding the opening down, which he peeled off with a calloused thumb.

Tucked neatly inside the envelope was a white piece of paper, tri-folded over itself. Zeff slipped the paper out, unfolding it to reveal the written contents of the letter. The penmanship was impeccable, and the ink was very sleek. He knew immediately it was from Sanji, not many other pirates had handwriting as good as his. He had completely lost track of how many years it had been since the curly-browed boy left with that ragtag group of pirates to sail to the Grand Line, but Zeff had every single one of his bounty posters. He'd never admit it, but they were tacked up on the wall of his sleeping quarters. Every time Sanji's bounty increased, Zeff felt pride swell in his heart.

"How are you doing, you old geezer. It's been a little too long since we've had any contact, so I thought I'd write to you just to see how you've been. You're no slouch, I'm sure you've been keeping up with the world's events over the past however-many years. Do the Marines even bother to keep sending our bounty posters to the Baratie anymore? Well, regardless, I'm sure you can read right through me. I can't deny it, I miss you, old man. I'm happier than I've ever been in my life, and such a huge part of that is thanks to you and the guys back on that old cruiser. Every recipe I try to make, I imagine you screaming in my ear and telling me that it tastes like shit. Some days I really wish I could be back there, but most of the time I'm joyful. Life has been really, really good. A few years ago, I met someone. Last year, we got married, and soon after our lives changed so drastically. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, and she's as sweet as an angel. I mean it, too. I know you'd probably think something along the lines of me playing up my affections again just because she's a pretty woman, but I mean it. You'd love her, Zeff. Living as a pirate is the most stressful thing anyone could ever do, but she makes every day worth it. The crew was discussing the possibility of returning to the East Blue a bit ago, and when we do, I'm going to introduce you to her. I've spent the last years talking all about you, how you taught me everything I know about cooking, and I can tell she's just as excited as I am to finally see you. This letter's gone on long enough and I don't want to use up all of Nami's paper.

-- Sanji"

Zeff felt a lump in the back of his throat. Sanji had grown into such a fine young man, eloquent with his words and his feelings. He knew how big of a deal it was for the boy to be so honest and open. But one thing in the letter caught him off guard. What did he mean by, "Soon after our lives changed drastically."?

Zeff peered into the envelope, where another, smaller envelope was tucked inside. He almost didn't see it. Pulling it out, he held the letter and original envelope in between his fingers while he opened the second. Sanji was thorough with his packaging, that's for sure.

Inside, there were three photographs printed on thin, matted paper. The first was of Sanji and you, the wife he wrote about in his letter, taken by someone else holding the camera. Sanji had his arm around you, holding you against him, and you had your face nuzzled into his neck. His other hand held a cigarette away from the two of you, like he was in the middle of telling a story. The two of you were smiling brighter than the sun, Sanji's eyes completely closed with the motion of laughter, and yours creased, your irises looking up towards him.

The second photo made Zeff's eyes water. A photo of you and Sanji on the deck of the Sunny, exchanging rings. Sanji was wearing a sleek navy blue tuxedo, while you were wearing a gorgeous white ballgown. For pirates, you cleaned up phenomenally. He could just make out tears in Sanji's eyes as the photo displayed you sliding a band onto his finger. A skeleton with poofy hair stood between the two of you, which Zeff found a little odd, but he chuckled at the absurdity of it all.

Zeff flipped to the last photo.

The tears that were welling in his eyes from the previous image finally slid down his cheeks in heavy, salty droplets. His lip quivered.

Sanji sat in a chair, beaming down at a bundle of cloth held gently in his arm. He was crying in this photo as well, and was reaching a finger over the top of the bundle, where a smaller hand was reaching outwards to grab onto it. A small glimpse of blonde hair could be made out from under the cloth securing the baby tightly. On the back of the film, Sanji wrote the birth date and the name of the baby.

Zeff used a sleeve to wipe his blubbering eyes. His lips quivered, but he couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face.

Was he allowed to call himself a grandfather now? He figured it was only appropriate.

#fem reader #reader insert #x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #special delivery

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intimacyequalsdeath · 3 months ago

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Bubz's Slasher Fictober Day 1: (Caramel Apple) Vincent Sinclair

Welcomer everyone to day 1! There's not much to say that I haven't already so I hope you all enjoy day 1 as well as the other fics I have prepared for this month! <3 Notes: Minors DNI, Canon typical violence if any. Vincent used sign language in this, the sign language will be in Italics. Support me: KO-FI

The half rotted door to Vincent's basement workshop groaned out a long winded squeak when you pushed it open. You grabbed it before it could slam against the wall at the top of the stairs. It was about 2am and you could never be to sure if Vincent had fallen asleep down in the workshop or not.

You stepped on each stair one at a time. You had been down to the basement so many times in the middle of the night you had the spots that creaked memorized and you knew how to meticulously step around them or at least cause the least noise. You counted each stair in your head until you reach the bottom step, you peered around the dimly lit workshop before your eyes landed on your target.

"Vince"

A soft, near whisper cut through the silence. A white masked face shot up from where he was sitting. His shoulders untensed and he quickly rose from his seat, wax project quickly forgotten on the table in front of him as he made his way over to where you were standing.

"I came to get you, It's like 2:30 in the morning Vin."

Vincent froze for a split second, his eyes darting to the usually wrong digital clock he kept by his work space. Years prior Vincent didn't care when he finished work, most nights sleeping in his workshop for lack of having any real reason to go back to the house. It all changed when you fell into his lap, his muse, his reason.

"Sorry, Clock never works right, meant to come home hours ago."

One of the greatest things about you, Vincent had decided, was that you had taught him sign language. When the two of you had first met Vincent hated not having a way to communicate besides writing messy, barley legible scribbles on a piece of paper. Though to be fair you didn't want to talk much to the man who was once your captor when you had first ventured into Ambrose all those years ago.

Bo had sworn to him you were only getting close to try and escape. Bo had yelled, screamed and bitched about how much time Vincent was spending with you, how every time Vincent would let you out, or go to see you that he was putting Ambrose at risk.

Vincent didn't really care though, having grown up with it his entire life he was used to Bo's incessant yelling about nothing of any real substance. Eventually and very, very begrudgingly, Bo relented and you were integrated into daily life in Ambrose.

"Vince?"

Vincent jolted, realizing his mind had wandered. He signed you an apology and then motioned for your hand.

"Wow your actually listening and coming to bed? I'm honored Vince"

Vincent rolled his eyes, and you could tell his face under his mask held something akin to a "Really?" expression. You drag him along by his hand, leading him up the stairs and out of the wax museum into the cold Louisiana night.

"I saved you a plate of dinner I can heat up when we get to the house"

"You don't have to do that"

"Why wouldn't I? You haven't eaten like all day"

"I've eaten"

"A granola bar that was probably expired from the gas station doesn't count"

Vincent shrugged again, He had a terrible habit of taking care of not taking care of himself and he knew you knew as well as he did. You shot him a smile and weaved your fingers together as the two of you walked home. Vincent pulled his hand away to sign something quickly.

"You're such a mother hen"

"If wanting you to be taken care of makes me a mother hen, then a mother hand I shall be"

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as Vincent slotted his hand back into yours and walked the rest of the way home. He knew you'd heat up his dinner plate, tsk at him for not eating and tell him to start taking better care of himself. He knew that he would nod but wouldn't listen and he knew that you knew he would do exactly that but at the end of the day you would never really mind.

Vincent liked being taking care of, you knew he liked being taken care of. If he wanted to call you a mother hen, then a mother hen you would be.

#slasher x reader #slasher fandom #house of wax 2005 #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #halloween #fictober #fictober 2024

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sirwow · 7 months ago

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More AvA/AvM thoughts and a longer rambling under the cut to get my thoughts out

Admittedly this is all going to come out of the blue but that is my fault for saying nothing about a year old hyperfixation till now. Anywho!

The color gang coming from the online world where all the other sticks live has been in my head since we saw the outside world. Yes they’re way more vibrant then most there but purple and their parents are also a very vibrant trio. So I have my thoughts on the four. Obviously don’t have any parents around (wasn’t my fault for once shocker /lh) and are most definitely not related really. So it gives me the thought of the 4 always being friends since they were small and fighting/playing is just what they usually did with no parents figures other then a care taker.

But then how’d they get on the stick fight site? Well considering it was not until AvA 4 when we saw them they most definitely saw other famous stick fights that wanted to make them be part of it. Hell in AvYT we see at the end they all just wanted to watch epic stick fights. So yeah thought I’d they basically ganged together to make their own site to show off their epic fights together while also living in said site together. Worked well.

Then a certain someone broke down the wall one day and they were like damn this is kinda neat. Kept the site of course it is their literal home but after more and more or AvM they considered the PC, TSC and Alan more as their home and so started staying there more. The little Minecraft houses, finding interests outside of just fighting, and living out their fantasies with the power of minecraft.

They’re still all identical looking for a long time though. I think the accessories I draw them with were drawn by TSC as gifts but not until after AvM 30. They’ve learned so much more at that point about themselves I could imagine being identical as each other and just being “them sticks that fight” still gets a bit old. Course’ they can take off the accessories when they feel so but kept them in the back pocket. TSC hasn’t felt any feeling to change their looks so he hasn’t.

Well then anywho it’s very late and though I have more AvA thoughts I need to contain them for when it’s not 3 in the morning ! So instead some smaller stuff Iv noticed while obsessively observing episodes and shorts (mostly Blue because I heart blue)

Blue unlike the rest of the color gang is very… plain. And I don’t mean this in a negative sense. It’s more a lesser degree of creativity from him on most accounts. He’s not very creative in his solutions most the time and has very straightforward solutions to issues that in his mind are straightforward. Break an axe? Make a new one. Gotta go fast? Drugs Potions that make you faster. Yeah there’s cooking but he never really does anything creative with it outside of adding nether warts like the lil freak /pos he is. Follows a written recipe and taught lesson.

It’s a quiet aspect of him I only really noticed a few days ago. Not that this is a negative aspect again but something that makes him stand out more!

Now then uhh smaller random stuff I just always like. Lush Caves ep, Red realizing oh god he can’t win this fight Vs TSC and started running from them instead. Always makes me boowomp a little thinking about it since Red is kinda the younger usual happy go lucky prankster. TSC I know you’re also young and stressed but continuing to get his ass was NOT the way man,,

Last thought, King just trying to avenge his son only to come out of the situation with like 6 new adoptive kids is very funny to me. They say vengeance is a life well lived so I guess he got vengeance 6 times over. Ok gn (ecplodes)

#ava #AvM #animation vs animator #animation vs minecraft #avm red #avm tsc #avm yellow #avm green #ava the chosen one #I should find better times to write instead of 3 am maybe

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iwillnotdieamonster · 8 months ago

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"This is a beautiful letter from Fiona Apple explaining to her fans why she must postpone a concert date. I am impressed at the way she was instantly able to make the decision to choose love over her career. Indeed, the world needs more of this.

It's 6pm on Friday, and I'm writing to a few thousand friends I have not met yet. I'm writing to ask them to change our plans and meet a little while later.

Here's the thing.

I have a dog, Janet, and she's been ill for about 2 years now, as a tumor has been idling in her chest, growing ever so slowly. She's almost 14 years old now. I got her when she was 4 months old. I was 21 then — an adult, officially — and she was my kid.

She is a pitbull, and was found in Echo Park, with a rope around her neck, and bites all over her ears and face.

She was the one the dogfighters use to puff up the confidence of the contenders.

She's almost 14 and I've never seen her start a fight, or bite, or even growl, so I can understand why they chose her for that awful role. She's a pacifist.

Janet has been the most consistent relationship of my adult life, and that is just a fact. We've lived in numerous houses, and joined a few makeshift families, but it's always really been just the two of us.

She slept in bed with me, her head on the pillow, and she accepted my hysterical, tearful face into her chest, with her paws around me, every time I was heartbroken, or spirit-broken, or just lost, and as years went by, she let me take the role of her child, as I fell asleep, with her chin resting above my head.

She was under the piano when I wrote songs, barked any time I tried to record anything, and she was in the studio with me, all the time we recorded the last album.

The last time I came back from tour, she was spry as ever, and she's used to me being gone for a few weeks, every 6 or 7 years.

She has Addison's Disease, which makes it more dangerous for her to travel, since she needs regular injections of Cortisol, because she reacts to stress and excitement without the physiological tools which keep most of us from literally panicking to death.

Despite all this, she's effortlessly joyful & playful, and only stopped acting like a puppy about 3 years ago. She is my best friend, and my mother, and my daughter, my benefactor, and she's the one who taught me what love is.

I can't come to South America. Not now. When I got back from the last leg of the US tour, there was a big, big difference.

She doesn't even want to go for walks anymore.

I know that she's not sad about aging or dying. Animals have a survival instinct, but a sense of mortality and vanity, they do not. That's why they are so much more present than people.

But I know she is coming close to the time where she will stop being a dog, and start instead to be part of everything. She'll be in the wind, and in the soil, and the snow, and in me, wherever I go.

I just can't leave her now, please understand. If I go away again, I'm afraid she'll die and I won't have the honor of singing her to sleep, of escorting her out.

Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes just to decide what socks to wear to bed.

But this decision is instant.

These are the choices we make, which define us. I will not be the woman who puts her career ahead of love & friendship.

I am the woman who stays home, baking Tilapia for my dearest, oldest friend. And helps her be comfortable & comforted & safe & important.

Many of us these days, we dread the death of a loved one. It is the ugly truth of Life that keeps us feeling terrified & alone. I wish we could also appreciate the time that lies right beside the end of time. I know that I will feel the most overwhelming knowledge of her, and of her life and of my love for her, in the last moments.

I need to do my damnedest, to be there for that.

Because it will be the most beautiful, the most intense, the most enriching experience of life I've ever known.

When she dies.

So I am staying home, and I am listening to her snore and wheeze, and I am revelling in the swampiest, most awful breath that ever emanated from an angel. And I'm asking for your blessing.

I'll be seeing you.

Love,

Fiona"

Credit goes to the respective owners.

#love #caring #animals #family #loss

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stitched-mouth-vs-the-world · 1 year ago

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Green Mommy

Summary: Your girlfriend's new power has made your sex life a whole lot more interesting.

Pairing: Jennifer Walters / She-Hulk x Fem! Reader.

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Lesbian smut, Girl on Girl, Monster fucking, Oral sex (fem giving and receiving), Cum eating, Established relationship, Mommy kink, Use of Vibrator, Use of Strap-On, Anal sex (fem). Reader is tipsy and She-Hulk is sober during the sex.

I use the word 'minge' once.

Writing Time: 2 hours.

Word Count: 1,857.

Format: Kinktober Fic, Day 24.

A/N:

I was super excited for this fic, I've been wanting to write for She-Hulk for ages and I'm super into monster fucking so this was bound to be great. Hope you enjoy!

I wrote this slightly weirdly. I was trying to keep Jennifer and She-Hulk completely separate in the beginning but towards the end it sort of becomes, Jennifer-in-She-Hulk's-body, but it's still clear to read.

Here are my other Kinktober 2023 works.

—///—

You and Jennifer had been dating long before she became She-Hulk.

But sadly it wasn't as perfect as you thought it would be. Yes, you and Jennifer were definitely in love and spent a lot of time together. But your issues were not so much to do with your relationship.

It was your sex life. It practically didn't exist.

You and Jennifer had had sex twice since you started dating, 3 years ago. You knew Jennifer had some serious body issues that put her off the subject, but also that she wanted it just as badly as you did.

Jennifer spent a lot of her time before her transformation thinking of ways to have sex with you, she never thought of anything she was happy with and willing to start with you.

But that changed with She-Hulk.

Jennifer felt a newfound confidence in her body as She-Hulk, and a spike in her sex drive.

As did you. Seeing your girlfriend so big, proud and confident made you so hot and wet. You could almost hear the squelching in between your thighs as She-Hulk handled Titania in the court room.

She may have lost the case because of it but she absolutely taught you and Titania something. That she couldn't be physically brought down.

At the bar later you gripped your girlfriend's arm tightly and drunkenly whispered to her how wet you was, just from her little take down as She-Hulk. Jennifer, now back in her She-Hulk form, grinned back at you.

Before you knew it you were both home and in the bedroom.

You were undeniably a little scared to sex with a giantess, but more excited. She-Hulk was the same, a little scared to have sex for the first time in this form and about hurting you, but her excitement was bleeding into her core and making her burn.

She laid you down gently on the bed and kissed you sweetly. She kissed all the way down your tiny body till she reached your hips, then she was ripping off your clothes like they meant nothing.

Jennifer had never been rough with you before and usually she cared a lot about clothes, so this was completely new from her.

Your panties stayed on though. She-Hulk ripped a hole in them, it was clearly a calculated move to keep them on but still expose your pussy to her.

The green giantess looking down at your pussy first and smiled, patting it gently with two fingers before slowly pushing in one finger. She looked up at your face to see you moan and shiver.

Of course She-Hulk knew her finger was radically different in size from say Jennifer's or your own, but she knew you could take it. You was her good girl.

So she started fingering you, in and out, painfully slowly.

After only a minute or two, you was begging her for more. No matter how big, just one finger wasn't enough.

She-Hulk giggled and added two more fingers, and quickly leaned down to catch your loud moans in her mouth and swallow them.

You moved your legs up onto the bed, knees bent and feet flat against the bed. And wrapped your arms around your green lover and pulled her in close, a silent beg for more.

Which She-Hulk understood, she pushed you up further on the bed and leaned back down to your pussy. Whilst she started carefully and slowly with the fingering, she began vicious and ruthless with the pussy eating.

Your moaned turned into screamed as She-Hulk lapped you up like a man woman, still finger-fucking you with three fingers. You had barely started and you already felt your head getting dizzy.

Maybe it was the wine from earlier, it couldn't just be your pending hard orgasm, so it had to be both.

You came onto She-Hulk's face with a cry, but she didn't stop them. She wouldn't stop until she was satisfied, so she ate you through your orgasm. Her mouth and fingers swapped positions, her fingers now rubbing and pinching your clit and her tongue reaching deep inside of you for your next orgasm.

You were crying and screaming now, you felt your second orgasm approaching and overstimulation not far behind it. Your thighs were squeezing your girlfriend's head tightly, surely without her size and strength you would of crushed her by now.

But you didn't feel bad. Not when she suddenly stopped and lifted her head up. You whined and glared down at her, She-Hulk only giggled again at your frustration.

She stood up and wiped her face and licked your cum off her lips. The look was beyond erotic and was almost enough to make you cum.

She-Hulk stuck her giant fingers just used for fingering you, into your mouth. You almost choked at first but quickly got the hang of suck on them as if they were a dick. You closed your eyes as you are your own cum of the new superhero's fingers.

She-Hulk smiled at the sight and pulled her fingers away when you was done.

"Such a good sweet girl, Mommy is gonna have to reward you."

You was shocked to hear her refer to herself as 'Mommy', but you was more than all for it.

Your 'Mommy' stripped completely naked in front of you and slowly crawled onto the bed next you.

You felt yourself becoming wet again at the sight of the She-Hulk completely naked. She gently stroked your stomach and spoke in a sultry voice,

"Would you like Mommy to give you your reward now, Baby?"

"Yes Mommy..."

She-Hulk grinned and made herself comfortable on your face. Her giant green thighs and pussy completely blocked your vision, and if she wasn't being careful you would of started suffocating too.

"Now, Mommy—- Ah!"

You got to work immediately, licking and sucking your Mommy's cunt. She-Hulk's head fell back and she moaned, your small pink tongue reached every detail of her green kitty. It made She-Hulk cry and grind herself against your face.

You was having the time of your life, down there. Seeing nothing but your beautiful giant girlfriend's cunt and having a mission to make her cum as hard as possible, seemed like the kind of life you wanted to live forever.

"Oh Baby, oh Fuck!"

She-Hulk's moans and curses were whispers and you could hear them with her big thighs covering your ears. But you knew she was loving it from how she moved against your face and occasionally grabs of your breasts from behind her.

Once She-Hulk came on your face, she moved off of you. You had close your eyes when she came, due to the sheer amount it could of easily gone in your eyes and blinded you. And if you were blind, you'd never see your hot girlfriend naked again.

She-Hulk smiled down at you as you cleaned your face of her cum, eating most of it. She kissed your cheek, then licked her cum off the corners of your mouth. Before sticking her tongue down your throat, again, nearly making you choke.

"Mommy..." You whispered to her in between kisses, "I need more..."

"I know Baby, and Mommy is going to give you more."

She-Hulk picked you up with ease and moved you onto the bed properly, with your head on the pillows.

"Turn over Baby."

She told you whilst reaching into her bottom side drawer. You gladly obeyed and turned over onto your front and pulled your ass up.

"Aw, what a good girl!"

She-Hulk praised you when she saw how good you followed orders. You felt her slide a finger up and down your minge and you shivered, still sensitive from your first and almost orgasm.

You could hear She-Hulk moving on the bed behind you as well as hear and feel the bed squeaking from her weight. Surely Jennifer knew already she needed to invest in a bigger stronger bed for She-Hulk, so you didn't bother saying anything.

You felt your girlfriend straddle your hips from behind and insert something in your hole, you breathed in carefully, comfortable with the new foreign object due to being more than soaked.

Until it started vibrating.

Then you started to moan and struggle, so much so She-Hulk held you down by your shoulder and laughed at your reaction.

"Oh Princess, you like that don't you?"

"You'll like this as well."

You didn't really know what she meant by that. But you found out rather quickly, when she pushed something harder and bigger into your ass.

Now, whilst you and Jennifer had never engaged in anything anally, you had in the past made it clear to her that it was something you wanted to try. Jennifer would never shove something up your asshole without your consent, nor would She-Hulk.

You screamed at the dildo making it way into your not used before hole.

"Oh Mommy!"

"I knew you'd like this!"

She-Hulk fucked you into the bed with her strap-on. And the vibrator brought you even further down into the bed. You quickly welcomed your second orgasm of the night... then your third, and finally your fourth.

By the time She-Hulk was done with you, your voice was hoarse from screaming and moaning, your face was red and completely covered in tears and leftover cum, your cunt was used and abused and your pussy lips and asshole were covered in fresh cum.

You gasped and shivered as She-Hulk pulled out of you and turned off the vibrator. You were shaking now and curling into a ball on your girlfriend's bed, no care in the World for the ruined sheets beneath you.

She-Hulk placed her strap on on her nightstand and turned back into Jennifer. Your girlfriend now once again smaller and whiter, pulled you into her arms and cuddled you tightly.

"You did really well my Love. I hope you enjoyed it."

You slowly looked up at her and nodded, too tired to even speak. Jennifer figured she'd let you relax a bit before she dragged you into the bathroom for some proper aftercare. Or she could turn into She-Hulk again and carry you there. But you didn't care what happened next, just as long as you got to stay in your girlfriend's arms.

#stitched #stitched talks #stitched mouth #stitched writes #stitched’s kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #she hulk attorney at law #she hulk #jennifer walters #she hulk x reader #she hulk x female reader #she hulk smut #jennifer walters x reader #jennifer walters x female reader #jennifer walters smut

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souliebird · 1 year ago

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[[and then I met you || ch. 8]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Words: 3.9k

There is a pigeon perched on the streetlamp that sits on the north corner of the block. It's got some sort of stick, most likely, and has been unsuccessfully trying to make a nest for the past hour. Given that the streetlamp is curved, this is a very bad idea, but the bird doesn't know that. The poor things weren't meant to be in the wild and a single stick is not going to save its egg from falling off if it chooses to lay it there. But it keeps at it, picking up the stick and putting it back down at different angles.

Matt very much understands the dumb bird's struggles. He has no idea what the hell he is doing, either. He felt, finally, after many a year, he actually had his shit together. And sure, maybe it was held together with duct tape, a lot of ibuprofen, and multiple prayers, but it was stable and balanced. He had a handle on things, for the most part.

He was doing what he loved, in all aspects of his life - defending people with the law and with his fists. He had Foggy and Karen, and he was working more with the Defenders, and he could be in Frank's presence without a fist fight happening. There was a drop in crime in Hell's Kitchen - he'd stopped the last two crime families who had tried to set up shop here before they even had a foot hold.

Then everything in his universe changed and Matt is now the human equivalent of a pigeon trying to lay an egg on a streetlamp.

He never thought he would be a father. It was something he dreamed about, in the deep recesses of his mind, but he never thought it would be a reality. Not with Daredevil. But, oh did God love to yank on his chain and remind Matt he had no clue what His plans were for him.

Matt wouldn't change it for the world, though. Something fundamental in him changed the moment the words had left your mouth and when he met Minnie for the first time, he knew he was a goner.

He would happily throw himself into the pits of Hell if it would make his daughter smile.

He wants so much to be a good father. Everything in him aches to be half as good as his own father was to him, but he doesn't know how, and he is terrified of fucking it up.

Because if there is one thing Matthew Murdock is good at its fucking things up. Especially when he thinks he means well.

So, Matt is taking in all the lessons God has taught him over the last few years and going against his instincts and he is going to ask for help.

Foggy and Karen should be at his door any minute, if they stop pausing to talk on the stairs, and Matt is going to tell them everything.

He hasn't been this nervous in years and he can't stop pacing. He's pretty sure he's going to wear his path into his floor if he keeps going, but he just adds it to all the other damage the apartment has incurred over the years. It's not like he's getting his security deposit back anyways.

He wants to open his front door and yell at his friends to hurry up, but he doesn't want to alarm them. They know something is up with him, Matt apparently wears his emotions on his sleeve, but they don't know what. He suspects Karen might have an inkling because Karen has an extra sense when it comes to detecting secrets, but Foggy is clueless and Matt doesn't want to worry him.

He allows himself to stop pacing once they reach his landing and tells himself to walk calmly once they knock on the door.

He prides himself in not wrenching the thing off its hinges from his nerves and gives his friends a beaming smile, "I thought you'd never make it up the stairs."

"Oh good," Foggy chimes, clapping Matt on the shoulder as he walks by, "He's still being weird."

"I'm not being weird," Matt counters quickly, only for Karen to pat his cheek when she passes him.

"You're being weird."

He shuts and locks the door before following them into his main living area. Foggy goes straight for the fridge, browsing his beer options while Karen takes residence on the couch. He doesn't need to be able to see to know she's staring at the two big binders sitting on the coffee table.

"Buddy," Foggy starts, popping three beers open with a hiss of the bottles, "the past few weeks you have been Grade A weird. You keep getting this dopey look on your face and spacing out. And usually," he continues, walking leisurely to the couch and handing Karen her beer first, before giving Matt his, "I would suspect a woman, or a man, because the heart wants what the heart or dick wants, but I know Matt Murdock falling for a girl weird. This isn't that type of weird. And this isn't Daredevil weird, because you get broody when it's that. This weird? I don't know this weird. So, spill Murdock, why are you being weird."

"And don't tell us it's nothing," Karen adds. Her beer sloshes in the bottle, indicating she's pointing it at him. "Because I agree with Foggy. We don't know this weird."

Matt deflates just slightly. He guesses he's been way less subtle than he thought he was being.

"Fine, I've been weird, BUT," he says with emphasis, "It's for a very good reason and I want it on the record that I was not hiding anything or keeping it secret. I was confirming all the facts before presenting my case. I.." he pauses to choose his words carefully, "didn't want to get ahead of myself."

"You didn't want to get ahead of yourself?" Foggy confirms and he gives a nod.

The response is for both Karen and Foggy to take long sips of their respective beers. Matt's nerves are too riled up to drink his, yet so he starts to scratch at the label to get the energy out.

"So, this is Devil related?" Foggy asks. There's a hint of disappointment and exhaustion in his voice and it makes Matt's heart hurt. He has really put his best friend through it, hasn't he?

"No. Well, yes, but no. It's complicated." Because the Devil is involved by default because it is Matt and it will be something that needs to be addressed down the road, but for right now, no. Not Devil related.

"That's not very reassuring," Karen points out.

"Just tell us, buddy. Whatever it is, we're here for you."

That makes Matt's lips turn down, "It isn't a bad thing, Fog."

"Well, we wouldn't know that because you've told us nothing," Foggy counters.

His instinct is to keep bantering with Foggy and he knows they can go at it for another hour, but he reminds himself of his resolve and settles back into the couch.

He's practiced his speech about a dozen times but all of it dies in his throat and the truth comes out on its own, blunt and to the point.

"I am a father."

Foggy has the more intense reaction, confirming Matt's suspension that Karen had an idea at the truth. His best friend inhales sharply, heart starting to beat harder in his chest. His body is sending all sorts of signals, and this is one of the times Matt wishes he could see - just to know what expression Foggy has.

It feels like hours before Fog finally says something.

"You're going to be a father?"

"No," Matt corrects, "I AM a father. I already am."

Karen leans forward, her spine creaking and her hair swishing, "The little girl. From last week. That's her, isn't it?"

Matt nods, feeling a smile start to pull at his cheeks, "Yeah. That was her."

"Oh my God, Matt!" He hears her weight shift as she pushes herself across the couch and right into Matt, loosely throwing her arms around his shoulders. He leans into it, hugging her back with the arm not holding his beer. "She is adorable!"

"She is, isn't she?" He preens.

Foggy's brain finally seems to process the information and he sits on the arm of one of the chairs, like he needs the support, "Wait, no, that was a toddler, wasn't it? That child was like five."

"She's three. And a half." Matt says as Karen pulls away from him to go back to her spot.

Foggy's bottle of beer sloshes and Matt imagines he's holding up his hands in a mock surrender. "Sorry, three and a half. Plus, nine months that would…Jesus, Matt, that's before we started the firm. The first time."

"Blasphemy, Foggy. And.. Yeah, the Christmas before we started the firm. When we were still at L and Z," he allows himself a sip of beer before diving into his explanation, "That Christmas party we went to, the one good one we ditched the L and Z one for."

Foggy shakes his head, "I was with you that whole night, Matt."

"Until you ditched me for the French woman," he gently reminds his best friend.

Foggy goes quiet and he must be trying to remember. Matt can tell Karen is watching like a hawk, keen eyes and ears trying to unravel the whole story.

"I forgot about the French woman. She ditched me and I guess I assumed you left and…" Fog trails off.

"Well, I did leave, to be fair," he reminds them. "Just not alone."

"Jesus, Matt," Foggy repeats and he lets it slide this time. He'll say an extra Hail Mary for him. "Did you not wrap it up?"

Both Karen and Matt give a bark of laughter.

"Of course, I did. And she was on the pill, but you know that is not a guarantee."

"Why come forward now?" Karen asks, redirecting the conversation.

"She didn't know who I was. She says she tried to find me, and she wasn't lying. Then she saw that interview we did and recognized me," he tells them.

He hears Foggy rub at his jaw and Matt just knows his brain is going into lawyer mode.

"But why did she tell you," Karen pushes, and he can tell she's looking for an angle that isn't there.

He ducks his chin just slightly and goes back to playing with the beer label, "It's not like that. It's not. She wants what is best for Minnie. She wanted me to be aware and have the option to get to know her. She was fully prepared for me to turn her away. She had already signed the forms waiving her right to ask for child support. The only thing she wanted was to know my family medical history."

"Her name is Minnie?" Karen cooes and that warms Matt's heart. He suddenly very much understands your need to gush over your daughter.

"It is. Winifred Love. She goes by Minnie or Mouse," he knows he's smiling like an idiot, but he can't help it.

"That is such a sweet name," Karen hums and he can hear her smile.

"It is," he agrees, then he tilts his head towards Foggy, his voice dropping to something almost apologetic. "I didn't tell you because I wanted to be sure. She wasn't lying when she said I was the father, but that could have been because she believed I was. And I am. We got a paternity test and I wanted…I wanted it to be official. Real. Before I told you. And now it is. My name is going to be added to her birth certificate. I filed the paperwork and everything."

He can't nail down how Foggy is reacting and that scares him. He doesn't want his best friend to be upset with him, again. He was really, really trying to do the right thing this time.

Foggy finally, finally pushes himself off the chair and steps around the coffee table before enveloping Matt in a tight hug. Matt hugs him back, just as tightly.

"I'm so happy for you, buddy," Fog breathes against him. The corners of his eyes start to sting, and Matt tells himself he is Not going to cry.

Foggy holds him for a good thirty seconds before letting go and stepping away, "Okay, before we jump into the whole Daredevil -"

"I'm going to tell her," Matt cuts his friend off. He puts his beer down and leans forward to put his elbows on his knees, "Not right now, but I completely intend to. If I can trust her. I think I can, but we've only just really met again. But I've learned. From both of you. I want to do this right. I want to tell her about my senses, first, and then we can build up to the other stuff. Once I am completely sure I can trust her."

Neither Karen nor Foggy respond to him right away and he has the feeling they are having a complete conversation with just their eyes. He waits. He doesn't want to rush them either. Matt wants to go into this with all of them on the same page. It's important to him.

They are his family, too.

"Tell us about them," Karen finally says and Matt doesn't even try to fight the grin that spreads across his face.

He tells them your name, then reaches for the first of the binders - the one that is twice the size of the other.

"She's…she's Good. You'll like her. She, uh, made me this, kind of big guide to our daughter. Everything I need to know and it's…in Braille. She knew I couldn't read print, so uh, all of Minnie's life she's been requesting copies of documents in Braille for when she found me." He pushes the binder towards Karen, and she picks it up in a flash, starting to flip through the pages.

"This is pretty detailed," she hums, before cooing again, "There's pictures. Look, Fog."

Foggy walks around the couch to stand behind Karen. Matt can tell that even though they are both Happy for him, they are worried, and he more than understands. He knows once he tells them more, that worry will fade.

He just needs to drop the final off the bombshells.

He licks his lips, clears his throat, then throws himself into the open, "Minnie is like me. She has my senses."

They both go as still as they can, taking identical sharp inhales.

"Not as…intense as mine, I don't think, but she has them. I.. Confirmed it. She could hear an ice cream truck four city blocks away."

"Matt…" Foggy starts and Matt shakes his head.

"We had a conversation, Fog. Clear across the park. I was whispering. She's…she's like me. She was born with it, but she's adapted, for the most part. Her mom just thinks she's sensitive, and she is, and she…she.." he motions with his hand, trying to convey what he wants to say, "Her mom helps. She gets her these headphones to block out sounds and all these things to help her. She just does it, she's doesn't question the why. All those little stupid things that make my life more annoying - the smell of cleaning supplies and how food tastes like the sewer or that certain fibers feel like sandpaper - Minnie deals with those and her Mom does her best so that she doesn't have to suffer. And that's…I need your help." He taps the second, smaller binder. "She made me a guide, so I want to make her one. I just…I don't know how."

He deflates a little. Over the past two weeks, he's done his best to type things up, things he thinks will help, but he has no clue if any of it makes sense to anyone but him.

"Oh, Matt," Karen hands the big binder off to Foggy, then leans forward to take Matt's hand in her own, squeezing it tightly, "Of course we will help you."

"We will make the best how to deal with your bat radar guide that has ever existed, bud. You can count on us," Foggy adds, starting to flip through the binder himself.

That evaporates Matt's doubt, and he huffs out a laugh, "I don't think there is another guide, Fog."

"Then we will set the standard for human bat radar guides," Karen counters with mirth.

"I'll drink to that," his best friend says, once again moving so he can grab his drink. He raises the bottle in a toast, "To the best damn bat radar guide there will ever be, and to Matt, whose man whore ways have blessed us with another him!"

Matt scoops up with beer with a laugh and clinks his bottle against Foggy's, Karen's joining a moment later.

"To Minnie," Karen adds and that makes Matt beam.

"To Minnie!"

They all take long pulls on their beers then set them down on the table.

Matt can practically feel Karen grinning at him, "What?"

"I want stories," she says, reaching over to shake his arm, "You've told us the big picture, I want to know about this little pumpkin. How many times have you gotten to meet her?"

"A few times," he says, unable to hide his own smile. "She calls me Mister Matt. We haven't told her who I am yet. We want her to be comfortable and I…want her to want me to be her father, you know?" He hears both of them nod and he keeps barreling on. "She's…she's perfect. She's so sweet - she loves to use her manners, you know? Please and Thank yous. And she just wants to help, with anything. She's pretty good for a three year old at being a Guide. I'm learning a lot about what she thinks is important."

"What is important?" Foggy asks, and Matt can hear the underlying happiness in his voice and that makes Matt giddy.

"Colors. How soft something looks. If it has a name and how it's feeling." He grins and adds, "At the park she was telling me how we can't walk in the grass because it's rude and hurts the grass' feelings. And that we can't pick flowers because it takes them away from their families and makes them sad."

Karen cooes, "That's the sweetest thing."

Foggy huffs fondly, "She wanted to pick flowers with you?"

He shrugs and ducks his head a little, "Kinda? She was talking about how to make flower crowns and bracelets."

"Is she going to make you a flower crown?" Karen asks, and Matt can sense her leaning towards him. The teasing in her voice has him guessing she's got her Mischievous look on.

"Maybe."

"That's so sweet."

"It's so 2014," Foggy adds with his own teasing.

Karen throws one of the throw pillows he's somehow accumulated at Foggy, "She's a baby, leave her alone."

Both he and Foggy laugh and Matt can't help but get his own dig in, "Like you would deny a flower crown from her."

"Damn right, I wouldn't," his best friend bites back. "I'm accepting all flower crowns, hair braiding, nail painting, and tea parties. I am going to be the best uncle she could ever dream of - wait, does she already have an uncle? Do I need to do research? I'll out Uncle anyone."

Matt shakes his head, "No, it's just the two of them. No other family. It seems like a sensitive topic, so I haven't.. Pushed. She hasn't either, but my background is a little more…public? I haven't told her about Maggie, yet."

The couch groans as Karen leans back into it, sipping again at her beer before humming, "Well, it will be easier to keep your late night activities under wrap. Less people to question things?"

"That's a way to put it," is the response from his other friend. Matt shakes his head at both their words.

"I told you I want to tell her, once it's safe. I need your help with that, too," Matt pushes himself up and starts to pace behind his couch, "With everything we've been through, all the things we've been working on as a team - and I know most of that is me with all my bullshit and issues." He stops his walking to rub at his jaw, "I know…I know I'm going to be bad at this. I know I'm going to fuck something up. I've done it to both of you countless times. And I can't give up on being the Devil, we've seen how it goes when I try to go either way, so I need to find the balance quick but I can't.." He trails off slightly as the emotions swell in his chest at his self sabotaging this and he has to inhale deeply to keep himself from getting too worked up. "I can't lose them. I can't."

"Oh, Matt," Karen whispers.

He's so caught up in his own emotions he doesn't hear Foggy get up and actually starts when he's clapped on the shoulder, "Matt, let me say this with my full heart, and I know Karen will one hundred percent agree, and I'm pre-facing this with I love you and you are my brother and best friend, and I think this is exactly what you need me to tell you. If you pull any of the bullshit you did with us with them or anything similar, I will personally drop you into the Hudson. After Karen is through with you."

It catches him off guard, but his best friend is right and it is exactly what he needs to hear.

"There would not be anything left to dispose of," Karen cheerily adds and Matt doesn't need super human hearing to know she's telling the truth.

He nods in understanding to both of them, "Thank you." He needs to properly thank them for so many things, but he doesn't know how and all he can do is repeat the words.

"So," Foggy starts again, squeezing Matt's shoulder before shaking him a few times. "When do I get to meet my newest niece?"

"Once we tell her the truth about who I am to her. I'm going over for dinner tomorrow, to try and be in more everyday things to get her used to it all." He wonders if his excitement about the dinner is showing through. He gets to visit where you and his daughter live and that always says so much about a person. He wants to be let into that bubble.

"Wait!" Karen gasps, turning more in her seat so she is facing towards the two of them, "If Foggy gets to be Uncle, does that mean I'm an Aunt?"

"Do you want to be?" He asks, because it is obviously a 'yes' in his mind.

Karen considers this, Foggy narrating, "She's debating on her head, doing the whole tilting it one way and then the next."

"Oh, hush, Fog! Of course, I want to be!"

This quickly dissolves into playful bickering.

"Aunt Karen has a good ring to it."

"Oh, like Uncle Foggy is much better?"

Matt grins and finds his way back to his seat and his beer. He grabs the bottle and takes a long sip, listening to two of the most important people in his life bask in the glow of their little family getting bigger.

Maybe, just maybe, he isn't as helpless and lost as he thinks he is.

Maybe it will all be okay.

He just needs to have faith.

taglist:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

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@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then I met you

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sequinsmile-x · 4 months ago

Text

Our Field of Dreams, Engulfed in Fire

She tells herself that she’ll get used to it, that the pain she feels over her friend's happy news will fade, but it only gets worse.

-x-

Hi friends,

This is truly up there with one of the saddest things I think I've ever written, so please take heed of the tags/warnings.

As always, please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 4k

Warnings: pregnancy, miscarriage, stillbirth

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She laughs as her husband shepherds her into the conference room, his eyebrow raised as he passes her a cup of coffee as she sits down, her eyes narrowed when she eyes him playfully, “What are we doing in here? I have work to do upstairs you know.”

“I don’t know,” he replies, sitting next to her, “JJ called the meeting. I’m sure Counterterrorism can live without their Unit Chief for 30 minutes.”

She rolls her eyes and sips her coffee, “I’ll remind you that you said that next time I try and steal you away for lunch.”

She’d moved departments just before they let everyone know about their relationship, not wanting any technicalities or rules to get in the way of them being happy and together. Aaron had asked her several times if she was sure, as if he was forcing her out of her job, and she’d assured him she was more than sure. A change had been what she’d needed, her desire to pretend everything was as it always had been when she came back from Paris wearing thin. She’d worked her way up in Counterterrorism quickly and often made fun of her husband for the fact she’d made it to his level so fast, a quip that he was clearly the troublemaker out of the two of them always on the tip of her tongue.

Any response he may have, his smile full of mirth as he looks at her, is cut off as the rest of the team filters in all together, JJ rounding them up before she pulls the door closed behind them, nervous excitement written all over her face.

“What’s going on, JJ?” Derek asks, sinking into a chair on Emily’s other side, “Can’t be work-related if Mrs Hotch is here.”

Emily rolls her eyes, shaking her head as he hides his smirk behind his mug, “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

“Always at least once more, Princess,” he says, winking at her, and she can’t fight her smile. JJ clears her throat and they all look at her, her amused smile tinged with an edge of nervousness, “Sorry JJ.”

“It’s okay,” she says, “I wanted to tell you all something and it’s almost impossible to get us all into one room these days.”

Penelope sits forward, “We’re all listening.”

Emily watches her friend carefully, the way she smiles widely, how her hand twitches at her side, almost touching her lower belly before she stops herself. Emily feels the ground beneath her disappear, her stomach rolling as she realises what her friend is about to say. It’s like her senses disappear all at once, the happiness and lightheartedness she’d been feeling just moments ago long gone as she reaches for the small pendant around her neck, a disc with an E carved delicately into it that Aaron had bought her close to two years ago now. She presses her thumb against it, feels the curve of the letter pressing into her skin, the sensation something she focuses on as JJ’s announcement rings around them.

“I’m pregnant!”

She’s grateful no one is paying attention to her, because the joyful cheer from their friends makes her jump, the sound of it drawing her back into herself as she looks around the room. Aaron is still next to her, his hand now on her thigh, and she looks at him, their eyes only briefly meeting before she looks away, sure she’d fall apart if she let him look at her too long.

She forces herself up, grateful for once for her upbringing, that she’d been taught the language of good manners before anything else when she was young. She congratulates her friend, hoping she doesn’t see past her smile that was only half fake, her genuine happiness for JJ clouded by the grief she could never quite pull herself away from.

No one knows. She has to remind herself of it, that no one knew, that it was her decision that they didn’t, and it’s the only thing that keeps her in one piece. She manages to stay in the conference room for 10 minutes until she feels like she could drown in the happiness, the taste of it bitter as it washes into her lungs, and she excuses herself, hugging JJ one more time before she leaves.

She knows Aaron will follow her so she doesn’t go far, sneaking into his office and sinking onto the couch as she waits for him, her eyes fixed on the floor. She isn’t there long before she hears his footsteps followed by the sound of the door to his office closing. He joins her on the couch and he purposely keeps a distance from her, always keen to make sure he takes her lead.

“Em-”

“Don’t. Please,” she says, shaking her head, her gaze still fixed on the ground, “I just need a minute,” she begs and she’s grateful when he obliges, the room silent other than the clock on the wall. She reaches for his hand and squeezes it, grateful for the press of his ring against her skin, a reminder that no matter what she’d lost she still had this. “I wasn’t expecting that to…” she chokes on a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh, “That felt like a gut punch.”

“I know,” he says, lifting their joint hands to kiss her knuckles, “Same for me.”

She turns to look at him, not surprised to find his eyes shining with tears too, “It’s been nearly two years. I thought…I don’t know what I thought.”

The grief of it, of the babies she’d lost, that she’d never get to know, was something she was strangely used to. An old friend that lingered in every corner and had a seat at every table. A part of their daily lives she thought she had built herself back up around, but this had pulled the rug from under her, her friend's happy news leaving her unsteady.

They’d tried for a baby for a long time. When she fell pregnant the first time, a sense of finally in the air around her as the test she was staring at had two lines on it for once, she’d felt nothing but happiness. It had been short-lived, a moment of joy brought to an end by familiar cramping in her back and bleeding that stained her thighs. She still remembered the look on the doctor’s face, a strange type of kindness in her smile as she told them they could try again.

They did, and the second time she fell pregnant quicker, something she tried to tell herself was a sign things were going to work out this time. Her anxiety had lingered, all the fears she couldn’t outrun from losing her first baby still in the back of her mind, but as she entered her second trimester she relaxed. It was something she now cursed herself for, anger that she’d let herself believe she was finally going to have everything she’d ever wanted the very thing that made what was to come even more painful.

No one knew she was pregnant either time, only Aaron and her doctor, and when she had nothing to show for either of them except for a broken heart and a box full of ultrasound pictures and tests with faded lines, she was grateful for it. Aaron had tried to encourage her at first to talk to someone else if she wanted to, but she’d only ever wanted to talk to him. To share it with someone who understood, and who already shared in the loss. The thought of having sympathy and well-meaning but empty words from other people enough to make her want to scream.

“Want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head, “Not here,” she says, smiling tightly at him, “Otherwise I think I’ll start crying and never stop.”

He nods in understanding, “Later? I can ask Jess to take Jack. We can sit in bed and cry whilst we eat all the candy from the pantry.”

She laughs, the sound wet and thick as it catches in her chest, “You know me so well.”

“You’re my wife,” he says, reaching out and tucking some of her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger on her cheek, wiping away a tear he otherwise doesn’t acknowledge, “If I didn’t know you it would be pretty sad.”

___

She tells herself that she’ll get used to it, that the pain she feels over her friend's happy news will fade, but it only gets worse. JJ stops trying to hide it now she’s told them, the clothes she now wears to the office show off her small bump, her smile wide and happy whenever someone congratulates her. Emily talks about to Aaron about it and decides she needs to talk to JJ, to give her some context on why she was suddenly avoiding her, and why she’d come up with an excuse that sounded lame even to her ears when Penelope mentioned a baby shower.

When she’s standing on JJ’s porch less than two weeks after her announcement in the conference room, Emily doubts herself. A moment of anxiety flaring in her gut before she forces herself to ring the bell, bravery she knows is fake washing over her as she waits for someone to answer the door. She paints a smile on her face when JJ pulls the door open, her surprise obvious as she finds Emily standing on the other side of it.

“Emily,” she says, standing back to let her in, “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” she replies, her gaze drifting to JJ’s stomach, the t-shirt she’s wearing gathering around her small bump. Emily forces herself to look away, sadness and envy and so many emotions she isn’t proud of burning in her chest, “If that’s okay.”

“Of course,” JJ replies, furrowing her brow as she leads Emily towards the living room, “Will is on bedtime duty tonight so you’re not interrupting anything. Do you want a drink?”

Emily shakes her head, “No, that’s okay.” She sits down on the couch and waits for JJ to join her, but when she opens her mouth no words come out, everything she’d rehearsed on the drive over stuck somewhere in her throat, threatening to choke her as she tries to figure out how to talk about something she’d only ever discussed with her husband.

“Are you okay?” JJ asks, beating her to it, “You haven’t been acting like yourself lately.”

Emily chokes on a laugh at that, unsure when she had last been herself. She felt adrift these days. Aaron and Jack and her routine the only things that kept her above water. She clasps her hands in her lap, putting more pressure on her own knuckles than necessary so she can feel something, anything, other than the empty ache low in her belly, “I…I don’t know where to start.”

“Wherever feels right,” JJ says, her voice so kind it makes Emily want to scream, everything she’d been suppressing for days just below the surface.

She nods and sighs, “A few years ago, just after Aaron and I got married, I was pregnant,” she says, clearing her throat when her voice catches on the word that makes JJ’s face fall, “Twice actually,” she hates the silence as JJ stares at her, so she carries on, “And I lost both of them.”

It’s an unnecessary addition, she knows that. JJ knows she doesn’t have any children other than Jack, and Emily wonders if her friend is replaying interactions they’d had together and as a group from the last few years. How Emily’s smile and shoulders would tighten if one of the team mentioned little Hotchner babies, how Aaron would throw daggers at anyone who brought it up. Emily had always assumed they thought she either couldn’t have kids or had chosen not to, their curiosity slowly petering off as the years drifted by. Their friend's thoughts of them having more children disappearing, the hope and possibilities nothing more than flecks of dust in the wind.

“Oh, Em,” JJ says, her voice hollow, like all the joy had been mined out of it, empathy rushing into it’s place like flood water that Emily does her best to ignore. “Em, I’m so sorry. You never said anything.”

“We…I mostly, decided we didn’t want to,” she says, “The first time we knew for a handful of weeks,” she smiles wistfully as she thinks of it, of a time of innocence she’d burn the world down to get back, “But then I lost it, I was about 8 weeks along. We told everyone we had the flu and took a week off work. The second time I was almost 18 weeks along,” she says, ignoring the shake in her voice and the gasp JJ can’t hold back. Emily is glad she’s sitting down, that she can’t be physically knocked off her feet by the wave of grief that threatens to take her under, “We were waiting until I hit 20 weeks to tell anyone. I woke up in pain and I was bleeding…and I just knew before the doctor even spoke to us.”

“How did you keep it a secret?” JJ asks, her curiosity winning out as she finally speaks, and Emily shrugs half-heartedly.

“It was winter and baggy sweaters hide a lot,” she sighs, “When I…after I had the baby we took time off work again. Close to a month that time. I can’t even really remember what Aaron said we were doing. We went to Europe for a little while. I don’t remember much about it.”

“He told us you both had leave Strauss was making you use,” JJ says, filling in a gap for her that she’d never quite been able to ask Aaron to fill, aware that she’d let him deal with a lot of the practicalities during that time, his own grief at their loss pushed down in favour of looking after her.

“Afterwards, my OBGYN said she thinks the losses were because of my injuries from Ian. I had no issue getting pregnant, but staying pregnant until viability seemed unlikely. We decided to stop trying then,” she sucks in a breath, the air burning her lungs, “I couldn’t go through that again,” she laughs bitterly, the sound strange and wrong but she can’t help it, the thought she’d never been able to entirely shake off chasing it out of her chest, “I can see the irony in it. I took Ian’s son from him and he took mine from me.”

“You had a boy?” JJ asks, her gaze a mix of shocked and sad that makes Emily’s stomach twist, a strange sense of anger she knows her friend doesn’t deserve rolling in her gut.

“Yeah,” she replies, “I had a boy.” She looks down at her hands, her focus on her wedding rings as she twists them back and forth, “Sometimes…sometimes I feel guilty that we’ve never told anyone else about him. But most of the time I’m glad we didn’t,” she looks up at JJ, her smile tight as she sees the devastation on her friend’s face. She doesn’t reach out, doesn’t try and comfort her, finding no room in her chest to take on someone else's emotions about it, “It makes him just ours, you know? Mine and Aaron’s,” she wipes a stray tear from her cheek, pushing it away with the heel of her hand as she turns away for just a second, “He’s just ours.”

“What was his name?” JJ asks, the question slipping free before she thinks about it, her eyes going wide as Emily looks up at her in surprise, “You don’t have to-”

“Elliot,” Emily says, smiling as she says her son's name. A name she’d never call out in a park or hear as he crossed a stage at graduation, but she could say it here, her smile soft and sad as she grips the disc-shaped charm on her necklace, her thumb pressed against the engraved E. “We called him Elliot,” she feels her smile tremble as she looks away from her friend, the empathy in JJ’s eyes almost too much for her to bear, “Thank you for asking.”

“Thank you for telling me,” JJ replies, resisting the urge to press her hand against her small bump, desperate not to draw attention to the very thing that had started this conversation in the first place, “Elliot’s a lovely name.”

Emily sighs, the breath catching on all her ribs on the way out, the space in her chest that was left empty the day she lost her son aching in a way she knows would never go away, nor would she want it to. It was one of the few reminders she had that he’d existed. A hollowed-out part of her that would always be that way but that she’d learnt to live with.

“I just wanted to tell you why…” she closes her eyes and shakes her head, her tongue peeking out to lick at her lower lip, “Why I’ll struggle to be involved with parts of this,” she swallows thickly, “Maybe all of it. And I’m so sorry-”

“No, Em,” JJ says, finally closing the gap between them and reaching for Emily’s hand, squeezing it tightly as she encourages her to look at her, “You have nothing to apologise for. Thank you for telling me. I won’t tell anyone, not even Will, if you don’t want me to. If I had known, I would have told you separately, not in front of everyone.”

“Thank you, and I know you would have. I guess I didn’t realise how much something like this would impact me until it happened. I am sorry though,” she squeezes JJ’s hand, “I’m sorry that I can’t be a better friend for a while.”

JJ pulls her into a hug, careful to make sure she doesn’t press her bump against her, desperate to make sure she doesn’t upset her friend any more than she needs to, “No matter what, you’re still one of the best friend’s I’ve ever had, okay?”

Emily laughs humourlessly and pulls back, “Okay,” she smiles tightly, her gaze drifting to the pile of toys in the corner, brightly coloured bits of plastic she’d only ever bought for her friend’s children, and she blows out a shaky breath, “I should go home, Aaron will be waiting for me.”

They exchange hugs and goodbyes, both of them aware this would be the last time they’d be together like this for a while. Something that weighed heavily on both of them, but was the right decision, neither one of them wanting to hurt the other with things out of their control. Emily texts Aaron to say she’s on her way back, and she’s proud of herself for making it back to her car before she bursts into tears.

___

He’s waiting for her when she gets home, the house silent apart from the quiet of the TV that he switches off the moment he hears the front door open and close. She slips off her jacket and her boots and walks into the living room, her shaking smile doing nothing to distract him from her red eyes and puffy face.

Aaron lays down, already knowing what she needs, and she crawls on top of him, wedged partially between him and the back of the couch as she presses her cheek on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat a comfort she’d never get enough of. He wraps his arms around her and one of his hands cups the back of her head, holding her in place as if anything could pull her away from him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, his hand running up and down her back, the other still tangled in her hair, “Or do you just want to lay here.”

She knew that what they’d gone through could have easily broken them apart. Both of them so weighed down by grief, so busy drowning in it, that they could have forgotten to reach for each other. But he’d been her rock, and somehow she’d found it in herself to be his. They’d held on tight and weathered the storm and come out stronger, her love for him now ten times what it was when she married him, something she would have at the time said was impossible.

“She understood. I..I told her about Elliot,” she says, instead of answering “I didn’t know if I would but I did,” she feels him hold her even tighter, his kiss against her forehead firm, “It felt nice talking about him.”

He kisses the top of her head again, “It always does,” he says, scratching at her scalp, something he’d done for her since those long nights at the start when she’d cried herself to sleep, “How does it feel to have told your best friend?”

She smiles sadly and shifts so her chin is resting on his chest so she’s looking at him, “You’re my best friend,” she says softly, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair, “So my best friend has always known.”

He turns his head and kisses her palm, “You’re my best friend too, sweetheart,” he kisses her palm again, “I’d ask how you’re feeling, but I guess that’s a stupid question.”

She shakes her head at him, “Never stupid,” she says, her smile tinged with sadness, “It’s strange to think in another life we’d have an almost two-year-old.”

It was a thought she could never outrun. A ghost of another life walking in tandem with her, forever tapping her on the shoulder and reminding her of what she’d lost, as if she could forget even for a second, whenever she saw a little boy who would be around Elliot’s age. A child’s loud laughter in public that would stop her in her tracks and remind her she’d never know her own son’s laugh or even his cry. A gap in her knowledge of him that could never be filled, the possibilities of what he could have been neverending.

“I think about that too,” he says, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, “I wonder what he’d be into. What gift we’d get him for his birthday and what theme the cake Penelope would make for him would have.”

She laughs, the sound weak and sad as it settles into her hollowed out chest, “When I picture him, I just see a tiny version of you. Right down to his eyes.”

“I always imagine him with yours.”

It’s a conversation they’d had countless times since the day they met and lost their son, and one she knows they’ll have for the rest of their lives. The what could have beens and what should have beens as painful as they were happy. Wistful and full of sorrow, as deep and full of unknowns as the sea.

“I wish things could have been different,” she says, not even attempting to stop her tears, smiling shakily at Aaron as he immediately wipes them away, “I…” she drifts off, not sure that she could ever put it into words, and he nods, encouraging her closer so she can press her face into his neck, his tears splashing into her hair.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, because he did, he understood the loss because it was something they shared, something that was theirs, “I know.”

“I’ll always remember what the nurse said,” she whispers, thinking of the kind woman who’d looked after them before they were sent home with a memory box they kept safe in their bedroom, “Clara. She told me that he’d only ever known love and warmth. That this world hadn’t had a chance to hurt him and never would,” she sucks in a breath and reaches for his hand, linking their fingers together, “I like to think that’s true.”

He rests his cheek against the top of her head, damp with the tears he’d shed, and he holds her close, providing her with an anchor as he uses her just the same.

“Me too sweetheart,” he whispers, “Me too.”

#aaron hotchner #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss #hotchniss fan fic #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron x emily #hotchniss

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crowleysgirl56 · 5 months ago

Text

Wildest dreams wishes for Good Omens Season 3 which will probably not come true but I can still hope hey!

Number 35.

This wildest dream fanfic drabble is dedicated to @fellshish and @phoen1xr0se for a conversation I saw you have a little while ago. You posed the question what if Crowley taught Muriel to hug because he needed a hug, and what if Muriel pretended they didn’t know how to hug because they knew Crowley needed one? Enjoy!

For years now, every time Crowley had crossed the threshold of the bookshop, there were certain things he’d come to expect. Finding a certain angel perched at his desk busying himself with papers, or lost in thought amongst his many bookshelves. Or even simply sat on the couch enjoying a book, glass of wine in hand, and listening to a song not popular for decades play on the gramophone. The last 6 months however, had been different. His The angel was gone and another stood in his place, messing up the papers, incorrectly re-shelving the books, and worst of all attempting to play anything released later than the 1940’s on said gramophone. Of course Crowley, chief mischief maker and numero-uno in annoyance, had attempted all of this for decades. But when he did it, it was endearing! This angel didn’t even have the sense to drink wine. The audacity!

…and yet, the little absolutely-100%-definitely-not-an-angel Inspector Constable had become somewhat of a comfort in these lonely difficult times. And Crowley found them to be far less irritating than what he had previously assumed. He was loath to admit it, and he would certainly give anyone a good kick if they dared to say it out loud, but he was glad of the company.

There were many things Crowley now came to expect upon entering the bookshop. The sight of Muriel facing away from him, arms wrapped around their own body in some weird self embrace, was not one of them.

Crowley paused nonchalantly behind them. “Should I come back and give you some privacy?”

Muriel spun around in surprise. “Oh, Mr Crowley! I didn’t hear you come in!”

He began to wander over to his usual chair, stared at it for a moment then, hands shoved in pockets, changed his mind and sauntered back over in front of Muriel. “Interrupting something, was I?”

“No! I mean, yes! I mean, I’ve been trying to figure something out.”

Intrigued, Crowley raised an eyebrow. “About what exactly?”

“It’s this thing humans do. It’s really quite strange.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up slightly. “That’s humans for you. Pretty strange if you ask me.”

“Oh can I?! Ask you that is. Cause I was really hoping you could help me!” Muriel started to flap their hands around excitedly.

Crowley narrowed his eyes at their sudden exuberance. “Er…with what exactly?”

Taking a hesitant step forward, Muriel clearly showed they were unsure how to begin. “We-ell, it’s about how humans are constantly-” and here they conspiratorially lowered their voice as they leaned in closer to Crowley. “…Touching.”

Crowley froze. He stared at Muriel’s wide and earnest expression. Surely they’re not talking about what I think they’re talking about? he thought to himself.

“…touching?”

“Yes! And how happy it seems to make them!”

Crowley swallowed hard, his mind whirring. Stay perfectly still and maybe they’ll forget you’re here.

Muriel continued, “Why do you think that is?”

Crowley’s face began to pale as he huffed out a dry laugh. “I really couldn’t say.”

“Oh nonsense! We both know you’re the expert about these sorts of things.”

What little blood was left in Crowley’s face drained away entirely. “Sorry?!” His voice raised about two octaves.

“Well you’ve been on Earth for so long, I assumed you’ve done it loads of times!”

Crowley’s mouth worked overdrive, spluttering, “Huh! Well sure- I, guess…loads.. but not like- I, I mean hgnr -I wouldn’t say…I wouldn’t say expert!”

Muriel continued as they crossed over to the study desk. “I’ve done a tonne of research! Watched heaps of TV and films. And read loads about it too!” They had been shuffling around the table as they spoke, then triumphantly held up a copy of Lady Chatterly’s Lover. At this point, although Crowley’s heart was purely decorative, he was pretty sure it had stopped beating.

“NGK!” He wanted to back away but found the function of his legs had also long ago left him.

“But like, there’s only so much that you can watch and read. So I was kind of hoping you could maybe…teach me?”

“Teach you?!” His brain had definitely left the building. Scales began to break out on the back of his neck.

“I mean I can’t very well do it on my own now can I?”

If Crowley didn’t already know what it felt like, he’d be sure he was having an out of body experience. He tried to protest, No no no no no no no! his mind begged. The signals failed to reach his mouth.

Muriel perched on the edge of the desk, clutching the book to their chest, their eyes dewy and wistful, “And some days when I’m here all along-”

Stop engaging. Stop engaging! Must find the exit! Crowley was grateful for his sunglasses, at least Muriel wouldn’t see his wild eyes looking for the nearest egress.

“-and I’m just staring out the window into the street-”

Window! Good plan. Jump out the window! Come on legs, move!

“-and just watching the humans do it right there in front of me-”

I’ll just start my life over again, in France maybe, I hear it’s quite nice there this time of yea- Crowley’s mind came to a screeching halt. Wait, WHAT?! “Wait. What?” He repeated out loud.

“When they hug. They always look so happy. Why do you think that is?”

Crowley stared at Muriel while his brain clicked back into place. The scales on his neck receded. He let the silence stretch out as he searched for human words again. “…hugging?”

Muriel looked so placid, smiling and innocent, “Well yes. What did you think we were talking about?”

Crowley finally found the power to control his legs again and began pacing back and forth, gesturing wildly and rushed out, “Yeah, no, of course, hugging! Right…right! Obviously! Yep, big expert me, know all about it! The….hugging” He paused and gave an over exaggerated grin. Just a simple demon trying to keep cool and casual. He looked expectantly at Muriel, “So what did you want to know?”

“I suppose, how to do it really.”

Crowley used every bit of willpower to resume the nonchalant attitude he had had when he first entered the bookshop, “Well! So! I mean…like you said, you’ve seen them. Seen it happen that is. You just kind of-” He began making awkward gestures with his arms and body, “…press your bodies together and then…put your arms around each other. Not much to it really.”

“But why does that work?” Muriel’s face always so exuberant, crumpled in confused thought. For the first time in their brief acquaintance Crowley realised Muriel looked troubled.

“How does what work?” His tone softened as he joined Muriel at the table and, arms crossed, leaned against it.

Muriel looked down, deep in thought, and hugged the book closer to their chest, “How does hugging someone…stop them from being sad?”

For the second time that morning Crowley was grateful for his glasses and pushed them harder against his face, and cleared his throat, “Well…I suppose it depends on what was making them sad in the first place.”

Muriel seemed to consider this, then appeared to brace for what they were about to say next. “Like maybe…missing something that was gone?” They peaked a side eye over at Crowley.

Crowley suddenly feeling very exposed and agitated pushed off from the desk and paced the floor, raking a hand through his hair, “Yeah look maybe I’m not the best person to be talking to you about this kind of stuff after all!”

Apologetically Muriel leaped to their feet, “Of course! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you with this. I should probably go talk to Nina and Maggie!”

As Muriel made to leave, the book still clutched in their arms caught Crowley’s attention. He grabbed their wrist, imploring them to stay, “No no no no no! No. Look, probably not the greatest of ideas, worrying them with…ethereal consternation.” Crowley led Muriel over to the couch. They both sat down gingerly, a small distance between them. Muriel placed the book on the cushion next to them. Crowley meanwhile looked like a dad attempting to psyche himself up to have an awkward and out of depth conversation with their teenager. He plunged ahead anyway. “What’s really bothering you about this kiddo?”

Muriel gave a small smile at Crowley’s term of endearment. They had only been acquainted a short time, but Muriel felt glad that they had been able to gain Crowley’s trust in such a familiar way. He wasn’t like other demons. They knew there was nothing to fear by opening up to him. After all if Aziraphale the Supreme Archangel could do it, so could they!

They took a deep breath then very deliberately looking away from Crowley began in a small voice, “All my existence I thought only Heaven and its Light could bring joy and happiness. I’ve felt that ever since I first came into being. Love and light. I mean that’s what Heaven is there for, right? How else would one reach such divine happiness if not for Heaven?…Then when I came to Earth I found there was so much joy here too. Everywhere! And I thought maybe Heaven was giving that to them. To the humans. But it wasn’t Heaven giving them anything at all. Heaven had nothing to do with it! Ask anyone what they think of Heaven and most wouldn’t be able to give you an answer. Heaven has nothing to do with their happiness. Which means, it’s the humans giving it to each other. And if they can obtain happiness just from each other, without Heaven, without its Light, then what is the point of Heaven?!” Breathing hard, Muriel clamped their hands over their month and squeezed their eyes shut tight.

Crowley had remained quiet and still throughout their passionate outburst. Something of a shadow passed over his face and he had the strong sense of déjà vu. Another angel long ago looking forlorn and confused, lamenting their displeasure with Heaven. He remembered comforting that angel. Demons really shouldn’t be in the business of comforting angels. But Crowley wasn’t like other demons.

“Sounds to me like you’re feeling a little envious.”

Muriel’s eyes shot open again. “But that’s a sin!” they exclaimed.

Crowley gave a wry smile, “Actually it’s just an emotion.”

“But it’s a bad emotion!” Muriel’s eyes began to mist over.

Perturbed, Crowley leaped from the couch, and once again paced back and forth waving his arms for emphasis, “What is it with you lot, always wanting to put emotions into little black and white boxes. Always making each other feel bad for daring to feel something, anything, that just so happens to fall into anything other than the “good” category! They’re just emotions! They’re not “good” or “bad”. They just are. Yeah sure, sometimes they make you feel pretty terrible, but that’s the point isn’t it! The point is to feel. It lets you know that you’re alive. Because if you can feel this bad and you’re still alive, then you know you can keep going. Keep fighting. Fighting for what actually makes you-” He stopped for a moment staring at Muriel, their eyes round and full and transfixed on him. He drew a deep breath, “-happy.” he concluded.

They stayed in the silence for a few moments, not quite looking at one another. Muriel finally spoke first, “You look sad Mr Crowley.”

He turned away and answered gruffly, “Yeah, well, I’m a demon…We’re supposed to look sad”.

Muriel left the couch and, like approaching a skittish bird, tentatively reached towards Crowley. “I think I know of something that could make you happy.”

“Muriel no. Absolutely not!” Crowley held up his hands and backed away slightly.

Muriel clasped thier hands together imploringly, “Please! You did say you’d help teach me.”

“Technically I said no such thing…but-” Crowley sighed audibly, “Fine!” He shuffled towards Muriel, then suddenly held a hand in front of their face, “BUT! If you tell anyone, and I mean anyone, I swear I will throw you into a lake of sulphur”.

“I promise not to tell anyone.”

“Mmm good then.”

Slowly and awkwardly, Muriel and Crowley approached each other. Even more awkwardly they reached out and wrapped their arms around each other. They didn’t quite press their bodies together. Mostly just the top half lightly held against the other whilst the bottom half maintained a modest distance, the type you could drive a freight train through. The perfect platonic hug. They maintained the hug for a good few long moments, then eventually broke apart as Crowley genially patted Muriel on the back a few times.

“So. Mission accomplished?” Muriel looked slightly shocked at Crowley’s question for a moment, then seemed to come back to themself.

“As long you’re happy.” They smiled as radiantly as angel of Heaven would.

“Nhg, not really about me kiddo. As long as you don’t go around hugging yourself in public I think you got the hang of it.” Crowley crossed back over to the couch and grabbed Lady Chatterly’s Lover. “How much of this have you actually read?”

“Oh not that much. Just the first couple chapters. Actually I did have some questions-”

“Absolutely not. And I’m taking this!” Crowley put the book in his inside jacket pocket then made to leave. “Anyway, I’m very busy and important you know. Places to be, people to temp, discontent to sow.”

Muriel waved to Crowley as they walked by them. “Of course! Thank you again for helping me today Mr Crowley!”

Crowley headed for the door as he called over his shoulder, “Don’t mention it. Literally. I mean it. Don’t mention it!” And with that, he exited out into the busy footpath of Whickber Street.

Muriel smiled to themself as they watched the demon pass by the window. It didn’t go past their notice during the embrace how Crowley had subtly softened into the hug, his fingers tightening slightly at Muriel’s back, and head resting just for a moment on their shoulder. They were sure that Crowley needed that hug just as much as they did.

“Mission accomplished indeed” they murmured.

#good omens #good omens fanfic #good omens ficlet #good omens fandom #Crowley #Muriel #Crowley and Muriel hug #hugging #fluff #good omens fluff #wildest dreams #good omens season 3 #hey I can dream can’t I #this is teeth rotting fluff that I worked really hard on #good omens headcanons #good omens season 3 headcanon #headcanons

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