#I'm a sucker for rainy kisses anyway

[moldycantaloupe]

I'm such a sucker for hair stuff. Here's some Rain/Phantom hair braiding for today

Phantom twirled the strand of hair between their fingers, eyeing Dewdrop through the mirror in front of them. He had just finished putting his hair up moments prior and was now working on getting the rest of his gear on. Phantom was near ready, their outfit on and makeup smeared on. The only thing left was to put their hair up and get their masks on.

They shifted their gaze back to themselves in the mirror with a frown. Their hair had gotten longer since their summoning, the ends now brushing their collarbone. Before they could get away with doing nothing but to push their hair back so it wasn’t in their face, but now it was a little more challenging. If they left it alone, it got caught up in the balaclava and risked spilling out. If they put it up in a simple ponytail, it made an obvious bump and the pressure against their skull and mask gave them a headache.

But watching Dewdrop put his hair into a simple braid made them want to try; the only problem was that they didn’t know how to braid. They chewed the inside of their cheek. Dew was already gone from the dressing room, now only leaving them and Rain alone. 

They heaved a sigh and leaned back into their chair, eyes landing on the water ghoul as he was finishing zipping up his boots.

“Rainy?” They called out.

He looked up from his boots with an inquisitive chirp. “What’s up, Starshine?”

They pursed their lips inward at the nickname and hesitated. Rain tilted his head as he waited, ever the patient one.

“Do, um…” they sat back up in their chair and turned to fully face him, “do you know how to braid? Hair, I mean.”

Rain stood up with a smile. “Yeah, I used to braid Dew’s hair all the time before he decided to be mister ‘independent.’” He sauntered over with a quiet chuckle, now by their side. “What’s up?”

Phantom took in a deep breath and looked back in the mirror, his eyes darting between the two. “Could you braid mine? Is it long enough?” 

Rain’s smile warmed up; it was subtle, almost too subtle to notice, but it made the tension in their shoulders deflate at the sight. 

“I would love to, Star.”

Rain opened Dewdrop’s haircare pouch with a quiet, “he won’t mind,” when Phantom whined with nerves. He immediately started work, combing his fingers through their hair to find an even part. They started a low purr when he brought a comb out to start properly dividing the sections, the scratch on their head near immaculate.

“Your hair’s not long enough to do what Dew does,” he explained in a hush tone, “so I’m going to do something called a ‘french braid.’ It will feel better, anyway.”

Phantom watched in content and awe as his nimble fingers worked through their hair, questioning every now and then asking if it hurt, if he was pulling too hard. They very lightly shook their head at each question and he continued with a hum. He began to lean a little once he got closer to the end, his tongue just barely poking out of his mouth. They found it so endearing, how they could tell when Rain was truly focused on a task. 

Finally he leaned over them to grab the hair tie and tied their hair off with a smile and jazz hands. “Done.”

They leaned towards the mirror and tilted their head side to side, their hand going to feel the soft curves and bumps in the braid. Their smile grew big and they turned to look up at Rain, eyes wide.

“Thank you!” They exclaimed.

He laughed and leaned down to capture them in a quick but soft kiss. “Anytime, Phantom. Now, let’s get going!” He spun around and lifted his balaclava up to finish getting ready.

Phantom turned in their seat to stare at their reflection one last time. There was a flyaway at the top of their head that curved inward, but otherwise they thought his work was perfect. They smoothed their hand down their hair one last time when a chuff before lifting up their own balaclava, already shooting out of their seat to go meet with the rest of them.

[serendipitioussurvival]

Of Rain and Confessions - Steter

When she pulled out of the parking garage Derek had converted the basement floor too the pitter-patter of rain greeted him. It wasn’t a full-on storm, no wind was blowing the trees in wild abandon and no thunder was rocking the heavens. No, the clouds in the sky were a dull grey and the rain came down in fat dollops with the briefest flicker of lightning glistening off the raindrops like diamonds. It reflected her calm fury so well he faintly wondered if she were responsible for it

“That’s it.” came the cold, calm exclamation from the young woman brewing in her own fury. Peter was surprised that the pack had let her last as long as she had been without anyone asking her what was wrong - then again her gaze had centered mostly on him so of course they didn’t ask. “Derek, postpone the rest of the meeting.” bold little thing she was, though she was allowed such a reaction. Being a pack’s Emissary had special privileges, the fact that she had come back to Beacon Hills before she could be an official FBI Agent had also granted her certain privileges. 

No longer was she an ADD spaz kid wonder with too bright brains and a loyalty that defied death for those she loved and cared for. No, Stiles Stilinski had gone away a teenager and had come back a weapon. She was toned muscle hidden deceptively with her plaids - though they were now women's plaids and fit her better, not men's as she had once worn - and had a grace in her movements that only came from someone who knew they could hold their own, no matter the threat they came across. 

She had always been his favorite human, now she was even more of a wonder he wanted to explore. 

He just wasn’t expecting the tart to march up to his spot on the staircase and drag him from it with a strength he had not been expecting. “You’re coming with me,” was the only explanation he was granted as he was led out of the apartment complex. Truthfully he wanted to snap at her and belittle her so she’d leave him alone, more than that he didn’t want to be around his nephew and the pack he was part of/not part of. “Get in.” 

He didn’t snark her as he normally would, didn’t remark that he sure as shit did not want to be trapped in the tiny confines of her jeep with her burning cinnamon fury that was mounting by the moment. No, all Peter Hale did was get in the passenger seat out of mild curiosity and wry contempt. 

When she pulled out of the parking garage Derek had converted the basement floor too the pitter-patter of rain greeted him. It wasn’t a full-on storm, no wind was blowing the trees in wild abandon and no thunder was rocking the heavens. No, the clouds in the sky were a dull grey and the rain came down in fat dollops with the briefest flicker of lightning glistening off the raindrops like diamonds. It reflected her calm fury so well he faintly wondered if she were responsible for it. 

He had thought she were a witchling or Spark so long ago only to be wrong, Stiles Stilinski was completely human. The weather, nature, hell magic even responded to her in ways that made it seem like she had an affinity for them. She drew him in too, just as effortlessly as the rest of the world was drawn to her. 

The only reassurance he had was that she seemed just as attuned to him as he was to her. The relationship that had sprouted between them had been strange and completely uncommon, relying on mostly snark and defensive barriers consisting of disappointment that neither was what they desired the other to be. Then the Ghost Riders had happened and something had changed. The strained bond he had with her grew stronger than any of the others he had, she saw in him something that had urged her camaraderie. 

He had made her push him through the portal, knowing full well it would be painful and would most likely result in his death, but she had surprised him more when she sent him through with a chaste kiss. He had known that Stiles was important to the pack even if they themselves didn’t, it still amazed him how much of a difference she actually made. 

Not only was she Malia’s Anchor, but she was the anchor for Erica, Boyd, she was the driving force of plan-making and willingness to look at every aspect - ‘Your plan is to rescue Stiles so she can come up with a plan?’. Perhaps the most heartbreaking was seeing her father, the one she loved so unconditionally, be so inherently happy without her and the fake specter that was his wife. He had been forgotten too, but her being forgotten infuriated him like no other. 

When she graduated he had her Jeep repaired without ever telling her who was responsible, that way she could have her beloved companion and have absolutely no reason to stay. He kept tabs on her, of course, and felt a strange sense of pride every time he saw her accomplishments. 

Then Scott, True Alpha McCall called every former pack member and told them they needed to reform, that the Ghost riders were back. Of course everyone returned, the Ghost Riders were too great a threat to ignore. 

He has a video somewhere in his suite of Stiles absolutely fucking wrecking Scott when he admitted that he had jumped the gun and it wasn’t the Ghost Riders but instead a Headless Horseman. That was when he had first noticed how different she was, hard not to when she’s literally shoulder tossing a werewolf that’s at least six inches taller than her. Stiles was no longer the skinny teen who had brains she couldn’t put into thought, she was now a twenty-something young woman with a body trained for confrontation.

The fact that everyone ended up staying in Beacon Hills is part of the reason why he was so frustrated and annoyed lately. Everyone was changed and yet they were pretty much the same. All aside from himself, Lydia Martin, and Stiles. 

He was brought out of his reverie by Stiles opening her door and sliding out of the jeep without a word. They were at the Preserve and heading for a popular hiking path but…

He followed after her, curious and annoyed. She was going to get sick, walking about in the rain - refreshing though it was - and he couldn’t stand the smell of a sick human. 

“Shift.” and now he was side-eyeing her, curious how much she truly knew and unwilling to give an inch if she didn’t already know everything. “Peter,” his defenses broke down with the compassion in her tone, with the way her scent - even in this downpour - was steady in its vanilla and honey. “I can run with you like this, but your wolf is anxious. Just shift, please.” 

“You going to watch me undress then, sweetheart?” not that he wouldn’t mind, definitely not, but that would be heading in a direction their current relationship hadn’t gone in. To his delight she simply raised her brow at him and began putting her hair up in a ponytail. 

“Since when have you ever been shy, Peter? Get naked or shred your clothes.” and then she burst forward, charging through the brush with a wicked gleam in her eye that challenged and enticed him all at the same time. Gods, but he did adore her, especially when she knew just what he and his wolf were needing. He barely shucked his pants off in time before his full shit hit him and he was chasing after her in a flurry of soaked leaves and wet underbrush. 

He howled the moment he caught sight of her, ethereal white fair skin flickering through the soaked dark material of her shirt and hair, then howled once more when she threw her head back and let out a loud laugh he felt in his bones. They ran together, side by side, slowing down and pushing forward, teasing and relaxing in ways that only made sense to them. Stiles had always been an important member to the wolves, if not the pack itself, but it was moments like these that made her impossibly invaluable to him. 

They ran for an hour until she could run no more and collapsed against a tree trunk, pants soaking into the muddy ground. 

“You know, Peter,” he tried not to think of how breathless and relaxed she sounded as he zipped his pants back up from behind a tree a little ways away. “I never did get to thank you for repairing Roscoe instead of just buying a completely similar car.” there she was, shocking him still again. 

“You knew it was me?” he tried to distract himself with re-buckling his belt instead of the hummingbird heartbeat. 

“Of course I did, just like how I knew you were the one telling me to get out of Beacon Hills.” she sighed and when he turned had her head tilted back against the tree trunk with her eyes closed, letting some of the raindrops filters in from the canopy above them drop onto her face. “Some,” he was not paying acute attention to the way her throat looked wet with the rain, slick strands of hair and the beautiful kisses of moles decorating her flesh. No, Peter was paying attention to how kissable she looked, how in tune with her surroundings and how… how at peace she seemed with him being near her, like this. “Some would say that it was a courting gift, if people still did such a thing.” 

“You’re worth more than the repair bill I got for it.” it was this murmur of admission that had her lashes parting to strike him with her champagne eyes. In truth, it startled him how well and sincere it had come out, yet when he found himself looking at the woman before him he found he didn’t care. “Using money as a courting gift is cheap anyway.” a test then, to see if she was as sincere about furthering this as he was. 

“It wasn’t the money you spent,” it didn’t seem possible that the forest could become so quiet, “it was the sentiment behind it. You didn’t just give me a car back, you gave me back something I loved.” he watched as she lowered one bent leg to the forest floor, still assessing him the way he was assessing her. “If you were to give me a courting gift I’d tell you to not bother.” before he could be hurt, before he could get infuriated she floored him. “ ‘cause I’ve been yours since I was seventeen.” 

“What?” she rolled her eyes and stood, approaching him much like she had earlier. 

“I’ve waited years for you, Peter Hale.” his heart soared, his gut hardened and rolled, he was pretty sure he was both freezing and having a hot flash, and then his nerves sang the moment her cold, plush lips pressed firm against his. It didn’t require thought when he wound his arms around her waist and pulled her against his chest, nor when he kissed her back and let go of every reason why they shouldn’t. She had just admitted interest in him, interest in something serious and long-lasting - and gods if that didn’t make him love her more. 

“That wasn’t exactly a declaration of love,” he sniffed dramatically, watching in admiration as a drop of rain fell down the bridge of her nose and trail down her jaw. “But it’ll do, I suppose.” her smile was like watching a sunrise after a stormy night, slow and beautiful and breathtaking. Their next kiss was slow and sweet and everything he’d rarely gotten in life, most importantly of all it was a memory he’d hold close to his heart for years to come. 

Who would’ve thought that rain could bring such clarity?

[userm3rc]

HII!!! can u do Dee fluff? :D anything is fine!

AHHH Dee fluff >>> anyways continuing!!

Dee Fluff headcannons -

• I can just tell he's touch starved like- just look at him :(

• That being said , he's probably flustered super easily . Hand holding ? Hugs ? kisses ? Leaves that poor boy a mess

• doesn't mean he doesn't like it . so continue to feed him with affection he eats it right UP.

• can you just imagine the nights he sneaks out and you get a text of "open the window it's cold outside"

• probably a daily thing tbh

• as nonchalant and know-it-all he acts , he melts like putty the second you give him any sort of affection

• just imagine those rainy days where you both are inside , a movie or music on in the back & you're brushing your hands through his hair

• or the times he's playing games and you're cuddled up on his lap enjoying the afternoon together

• even those windy afternoons where you both are walking through the park holding hands & carrying light hearted conversations

• can't forget you both studying together and enjoying eachothers presence

• all in all he's a sucker for physical affection :)

(i'm so sorry if you genuinely wanted a whole fic- i can do that as well i just got carried away- 🧍)

[returnsandreturns]

I'm a huge sucker for like, accidental daddy kink, so if you could write something where Foggy calls Matt "daddy" kind of as a joke and Matt has Feelings about it but tries to pretend he doesn't, I'd love that. (Also I feel like you've definitely already written something like this but... I'm just really here for your fics so yeah...)

I LOVED THIS. 

“I hate you for having no morning classes,” Foggy says, sounding too sleepy to actually be angry as he shoves stuff into his backpack. Matt burrows deeper into his bed and smiles.

“You have to register early,” he says, yawning. “I keep telling you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Foggy says. “You’ll teach me to be a productive member of society some day, Murdock, but today—have you seen the kitten?”

Matt fishes her out from where she was hiding in his sheets, laughing when she meows her protest and wriggles out of his hand to sink her claws into his t-shirt.

“I’m so jealous of both of you,” Foggy says, sighing, “but that’s adorable.”

Foggy came home with Goodie on a rainy afternoon, after Matt had been fighting off a shitty mood and spent the last two days in bed, and said, “Someone was giving them away on the corner and I looked into her eyes and knew that we belonged together and, also, I named her after Thurgood Marshall because I really want to see you smile, buddy.”

Matt smiled. Goodie was small enough to fit in his hand and she was warm and purred as soon as he touched her. When Matt falls in love, he falls in love instantly and fully—it happened with this scruffy kitten and it happened with Foggy.

“Skip class,” Matt says, now, reaching a hand out for him.

“Temptress,” Foggy says, but he takes his hand anyway, lets Matt tug him down and kiss him. “You’ll judge me once you’re not all cuddle drunk.”

“Maybe,” Matt says. “She won’t, though.”

He holds up Goodie so she’s close to Foggy’s face and Foggy sighs.

“Unfair,” he says, taking her and crawling into bed next to Matt, sitting her back down on his chest where she pads around contemplatively before she tangles herself in Foggy’s hair and curls up close to his neck.

“Well, you can’t move now,” Matt says, happily, turning on his side so Foggy can settle in more comfortably and he can rest his head on Foggy’s shoulder.

“You shouldn’t use our daughter against me,” Foggy says.

“Our daughter?” Matt asks, laughing.

“Yes,” Foggy says, seriously. “You were agreeing to be a daddy by not making me take back our illegal dorm kitten.”

“A daddy,” Matt echoes, feeling a confusing rush of nerves.

“Yeah, daddy,” Foggy says, yawning. “C’mon, let’s go back to sleep.”

Matt tries to—he really does, but—

Daddy.

*

“Max down the hall’s using Goodie as a therapy animal,” Foggy says, slamming the door behind him as he comes in, “and I’m about to get naked. How do you want to contribute to this scenario?”

Matt finishes the sentence he was typing and turns around in his desk chair.

“You know we don’t have to get a babysitter if we want to mess around, right?” he asks, smiling.

“What kind of parents would we be if we exposed our child to our—our sordid past times?”

“Speaking of parents—”

“Take off your pants while you talk.”

“Sure, but—you know how you used that word—”

It’s hard to say, even though Matt wants to hear Foggy say it again so badly.

“I use a lot of words,” Foggy says, when Matt falters, kicking his jeans away and grabbing Matt to kiss him while his sweats are around his ankles, fierce and messy, running fingers through his hair.

“Daddy,” Matt says, panting. “You said that I was a daddy.”

Foggy goes still.

“Was that weird for you?” he asks, dropping his hand and taking a step back.

“I. . .liked hearing you say it,” Matt says. “I thought maybe you’d want to do it again.”

Foggy’s mouth opens but he doesn’t speak.

“Oh, god,” Matt says, immediately laughing and stumbling over his pants as he steps away. “Never mind, I’ll leave forever—we’ll discuss custody later.”

“Matty,” Foggy says, so fondly that Matt knows he wasn’t completely off-base. “Of course I do.”

Matt lets himself be pulled forward into a hug, raising his arms after they let go so Foggy can pull his shirt over his head and rest warm hands on Matt’s sides.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Let me try something,” Foggy says, leaning in close and lowering his voice when he says, “Hi, daddy.”

Matt lets out a sharp breath.

“Okay, I’d be into it just because of the face you made, but I think this fits in nicely with--oh, hi, I can also feel how horny that made you--with the thing where I get off on you being all tough and strong and you get off on me getting off on you being all tough and strong,” Foggy says, quickly, probably because Matt’s basically given up on shame and pressed close enough to grind against him. “Okay, you’re being very straight-forward right now--what do you want to do, Matty?” 

Matt smiles at him.

“I want to fuck you,” he says. “Do you want that?” 

Foggy kisses him softly, warm breath on Matt’s mouth when he murmurs, “Yes, daddy. Please.”   

Fuck.

“God, you think Max’ll babysit over night?” he asks, pulling Foggy towards his bed. 

“I already texted him,” Foggy says.