#and how it affects you and its just hilariously out of touch.. like

[supahstarrr]

sometimes i think its hard for the fandom to have genuine deep conversations about veronika's character because of how much she's flanderized and reduced... but also i think its because of how people interpret her relationship with (horror) fiction being so drastically different from each other.

youll get "she'll be a murderer because she likes horror" (← she could be a murder but how fiction impacted her is way more complicated than that) and then "her character is a clear example of how fiction doesnt affect reality" (← really?) but also "she doesnt think fiction affects reality." (← that is a way more complicated statement than you think knowing we don't even know how she personally defines fiction, but also shes obviously aware of how much myths and lies has an affect on the cast and especially arturo but those things may not be defined as fiction in her eyes). But also due to jarring opinions even among people who tolerate or like her or understand her, unfortunately conversations might get devolved into debates about the relationship between humanity and fiction, but also about fiction itself.

i see the last two statements more often than the first when people comment about her ... i feel like people project how they personally define fiction and think of fiction's impact so much onto her that her character gets lost on them and dont think how much their statements about her lessen the depth of her character. thing is that whatever they will feel about the relation with humanity and fiction theyll need to get over it because its one of the main things that make veronika and arturo clear reflections of each other and contributes plus adds onto her depth

im saying this as someone who do think fiction itself and its impact on the person & society doesnt exist in an vacuum. But I am especially saying this as someone who finds her obnoxious, annoying and very cringe but tries to find her depth despite of my feelings about her.

[mischievousmoony]

hi, ok i have another idea for a fic which again totally up to you to write!! but i had an idea with dad!james and r where their kid is like equally obsessed with their mum as james is with r and one day james decides to prank their kid by saying something bad about the r while their kid is present and the baby just goes off. i feel like you would do an amazing job with this! feel free to ignore too. have a perfectly splendid day!!

-🪷

"the baby just goes off" painted a hilarious picture of an infant yelling at his dad in my mind lmao. ty for the request this warmed my heart to write + special thanks to @moonpascal for chatting a little about kids, gave me the reassurance & inspiration i needed

𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜

⟢ dad!james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.1k ⟢ warnings/tags: fluff, dad/husband!james, mom/wife!reader, no use of y/n, no name for the son, idk how to write a child's dialogue tbh son's supposed to sound 4 years old

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

James gladly goes out of his way to mention to anyone who will listen that his little one is unmistakably a Mummy's boy. From family to friends to the poor souls who bag his groceries, James will talk the ear off of anyone he can.

He finds it to be the most endearing thing in the world— the way that your son is as obsessed with you as James is. Always staying close and clinging to you, touching affection radiating from every hug and smile.

Today, as he watches his son run back and forth across the carpet, handing his mother block after block just to see her face light up after each gift, his awe and admiration are insurmountable.

Last night, James surprised you with a pair of earrings that you have been wishing for. When your face lit up upon receiving the little leatherette box, so did your son's. He didn't quite understand why you were so excited about some cube, but since then he's been trying to replicate your excitement with presents of his own.

"Oh my! Another one! Thank you, buddy," you beam, you're gratefulness and delight unwavering as he hands you the sixth block.

Your son giggles, bouncing in his spot as you inspect each side of the little wooden toy, telling him how much you adore the blue penguin painted on one of its faces.

That's another thing that touches James' heart: the tender nurture and care that you bestow upon your son with such unwavering devotion and warmth. It has James convinced that you must be the best mum in the entire world.

He might just melt at the sight of you now, kneeling happily in front of a growing pile of blocks as your son scurries back and forth, adding to your collection. James sits cross-legged to your right, resting his elbow on his knee and laying his head in his hand, watching the two he loves most in the world with hearts in his eyes.

You gasp, as if surprised when handed block number seven. "Oh, this is my favorite one yet. How did you know I love zebras?" you ask, your thumb tracing over the red acrylic paint on the side of the block.

By the time you have twelve, nearly half of his collection, you say, "I have a lot of blocks here, buddy, do you want to give some to Daddy?"

"No!" your son protests immediately, running off to his toy box for the thirteenth time.

You and James both chuckle, exchanging amused glances. Finding your son's reaction hilarious, James’s mischievous side has him dreaming up new ways to push his buttons. Your son thinks the world of you, and James is curious to see what the little guy will do if he claims otherwise.

"Well, what am I gonna do with all of this? Should I..."

You leave your son in suspense for a moment, and his hands hover over his toy box as looks at you, hanging onto your every word in anticipation.

"...build a castle!?"

“Yeah!” your son cheers, scooping three more blocks into his arms, thrilled to supply the bricks for your castle.

James nudges you, a sign of his upcoming playfulness. “You sure about that, bud? Mummy is absolutely rotten at building castles.”

Halfway across the carpet, your son stops in his tracks, glaring at his father as he tries to keep his blocks from falling out of his arms.

Stifling a laugh, you press your fingertips to your lips. By now, you’re used to James’ bursts of mischief, and you’re more than happy to sit back and let them play out. Unless you’re an active participant, of course.

You muster up a scandalized gasp as he reaches for your mountain of presents, claiming three blocks in one hand.

“No!” your little one complains, rushing to drop his three in your lap to replace the ones that James stole, “those are Mummy’s!”

“You sure Mummy deserves all these blocks?” James asks, starting to stack them into a tower, “You watch, I’ll build a castle that’ll make her’s look like rubbish.”

Your son hastily makes his way over to his dad, both arms extended as he collides with the tower and sends the blocks flying. "Stop it," he says as he scoops up the nearest block and runs it back over to you, shouting, "Mummy's castles are the best!"

He climbs into your lap, clutching onto the toy tightly as one of your arms wraps around him, and you feel your heart start to melt as you rub soothing circles into his back. You look over your son's head, your eyes sparkling with affection as you meet your husband's tender gaze.

Not having the heart to mess with him for very long, James concedes, "You're right, I'm not being very nice, am I?"

"Nuh-uh!" your son replies, shaking his head with exaggeratedly vigor, the curls he gets from his dad bouncing about.

"What can I do to make it up to her?" James asks, turning the ordeal into a subtle lesson as he dramatically feigns sorrow and despair over his actions.

"'Pologize," your son commands, his head swiveling to look at James expectantly over his shoulder.

James puts on his most sheepish, apologetic smile, looking from his son to you. "I'm very sorry. He's right, your castles are the best. Can you forgive me, love?"

"Aw, of course I forgive you," you say warmly, your amusement manifesting as a wide smile. You lean back so you can get a good view of your son's face when you tell him, "You know, I bet what Daddy really wants is to build a castle with us. I love your presents, bud, but we don't want to leave Daddy out do we?"

He looks down at the block in his little hand. "No," he replies shyly.

"So why don't you ask him to build a castle with us?" You give him a pat on the back before releasing him from your arms. "Go on," you coax.

He steps closer to James, holding the block close to his chest. "We can all build a castle," he offers.

"Yeah?" James' face lights up, and it's not for show. Genuine joy takes over his features as he ruffles your son's hair, responding, "I'd love nothing more, little man."

"But you have to be nice to Mummy!" he demands, his little voice firm and earnest as he looks up at James with wide, serious eyes.

"I promise, I will be on my best behavior," James assures him, his voice sincere as he gives a playful salute. That's enough for your son, because he finally awards James with his very first block, which he accepts with pride.

"Good!" your son cheers, already moving on to the pile of blocks to start stacking them as he proclaims, "Mummy is the best, and we have to show it!"

Your lips part as you suck in a breath, a quiet gasp. Receiving your son's affection never fails to make your heart swell.

You don't feel James' eyes on you, but he's watching— admiring, more like, as he takes in the way that you soften at your son's sweet words. A smitten smile plays at his lips as he agrees, "She is the best, isn't she?"

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[aennasan]

Jealous Papa to Baby Emi (Kenji Sato x Reader)

Synopsis: Yep. The title is basically the fic. I had so much fun with this that it became a bit longer than my usual drabbles and imagines.

🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷

Kenji Sato would never admit it but you know him well enough to say that he is a very jealous man.

However, right now, you are 100% sure that he would never admit it, especially because his number one source of jealousy is his very own kaiju daughter, Emi.

He is not even discreet in showing it. Watching him opening his secret fridge and pretending to count his coco water but his eyes and mind was never even tuned in on the task he had at hand.

His eyes kept straying to you and Emi while you're teaching her about human things. Scowling, lip pouting, and his body emitting a vibe yelling, “When’s me? I want to be next.”

You do your best not to notice or smile as his scowl deepens, he is so funny when he is like this.

At first, you thought he was jealous of Emi becoming a Mama’s girl.

The baby imitating the way you will put your hand on your hips if she’s being sassy, raising an eyebrow if his Papa overreacts about something, crosses her arm and rolls eyes if she's rebelling and the best of it all, is copying your crossed legs whenever you sit on the floor.

Yet, you found out that you were wrong when he suddenly wrapped his arm around your waist, nestled his face on the crook of your neck and asked, “How about Papa, Mama? When are you going to spend your time with me?”

It took you by surprise. And all his actions for the past few days are starting to make sense. His intense clinginess, to the point that he would find you wherever you are alone and wouldn't stop touching you. The way he wouldn't let go of a chance to have you sitting on his lap. Cuddling to the fullest before the baby wakes up crying. He would pout and grumble whenever you remove his hand from you.

Your mind goes “Ohhhhh” finally putting the puzzle pieces together, of his out of pocket intense change in showing his affection.

But before you could even answer, Emi is already throwing a tantrum because you turned your back on her while she was practicing and showing you her dance.

“Must be hard being so popular.” Professor Sato joked once when Kenji was busy scolding Emi for prying his arms away from you. She is scowling, head held high, as she crosses her arms, not looking at his Papa who is now yelling, “Bad girl! You don't act like that in front of your Papa!”

“It is harder knowing that the supposed to be eldest is the one who is acting like a kid.” You gave out a heartfelt chuckle and replied.

“Oh! For sure. He is used to having all the attention only to himself. He probably didn't expect that his competitor would be her own daughter.” He smiled as you two continued to watch their exchange which started to get hilarious the longer it takes.

“Baby, how about dinner, just the two of us, this weekend?” You asked the moment you caught his eyes, your hand resting on your hips, lips curved with a sly knowing smirk.

At first, he whipped his head down fast, immediately pretending to still be counting, while mouthing “Oooooh! I must have drunk a lot of augh….coco water.”

But when he heard the magic word, his head whipped up so fast and he started walking towards you like a dog being told “Do you want to go out?” by its owner.

“Really?” He asked. Purple eyes practically shining with hope and excitement.

“Yeah. I missed you. We haven't gone out together on a date for a while.” Your smile softened when he instinctively leaned forward on your hand when you reached for him to cup his face with pure longing and affection.

“Emi?”

“Professor Sato and Mina would take care of her for us.” You cannot help the way your heart flutters when you see his boyish grin which makes his whole face glow with happiness.

You swallowed the twinge of guilt in your heart when you realized how much he must have felt left out and neglected by you these past few days.

You promised that this weekend would just be about you two. The both of you will enjoy the time of your lives, alone together as you two watch the sun dips on the horizon, your head resting on his shoulder, back pressed comfortably on his chest, while his arms wrapped around you, and his hand playing with your palm. It will be relaxing and you melt just by imagining it.

Or so you two tried your best to compromise.

When Emi saw the both of you dressed to the nines— the plan was to just tell her to be a good girl and bid her goodbye before leaving, she probably felt something was wrong, and the moment the two of you stepped on the glass elevator, preparing to leave, she screamed and threw the biggest tantrum.

The whole building shook from her roar. Her feet kicked the floor so hard that you swore it felt like there was an earthquake.

You and Kenji tried to console her but she didn't stop until Kenji promised that you two are not going to leave and Mama and Papa are going to have a dinner date with Emi.

As if knowing she had won, the baby kaiju stopped immediately and gave out the biggest smile.

Yep, you had been fooled.

So now you found yourselves at the side of the beach. Sitting in front of each other with a candlelight dinner. The sky is a beautiful mix of red, orange, and yellow as it slowly dips on the horizon. The perfect color and atmosphere for a romantic dinner date by the beach.

Except, beside your table is Emi’s own table with her fish, who was happy and chirpy as she looked around. Just content to be with her Mama and Papa. Cheery to be included.

“Come on now. Stop scowling. You're going to age faster with those deep frowns on your forehead.” Joking, you cupped his cheek, reached out to his forehead, and ran your thumb to the lines formed from frustration wanting to smooth it out.

With a deep sigh, he leaned on your hand and his lips formed a long pout.

“But how about a dinner date with just the two of us?” He grumbled.

“Hmmm…I guess maybe we could do that once Emi grew a bit more.” You smiled.

“That will be too long.” He sighed. Exasperated.

“How about sneaking out whenever she is sleeping or busy watching your games?” You compromised.

“We can do that.” He hummed, grabbed your other hand resting on the table, squeezed and kissed the back of it.

Sensing that your attention is not on her, Emi stood up, and started clapping and dancing to the new dance she learned. Mina instantly played one of her favorite songs.

“Show off. Mama’s mine either way.” You let out a laugh when you heard Kenji speak in a hush tone not wanting the baby girl to hear it and had another of her tantrums.

[ayumip]

𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮…𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬?

boyfriend!rin x reader

wc: 0.6k

rin, your boyfriend, is jealous of the stray cat you recently adopted. so what's he going to do? get it away of course!

recently, rin's been wearing a permanent scowl on his face, not that he didn't scowl at everyone before, but now it was wayyy more obvious.

you, on the other hand, were living your best life. for the past month, you've been feeding this stray cat in your neighborhood, bringing it milk, cat food and water from the nearby connivence story everyday. it took you a while to confirm that it was indeed a stray, and not a cat roaming around using its cuteness to lure passersby to give it more food. nevertheless, you begged rin to allow you to adopt it into your shared apartment. using your puppy dog eyes, and some other forms of convincing, he relented with a "i don't care as long as it doesn't bother me"

little did he know, that cat would be the death of him.

"here kitty kitty~!" you would coo at your new pet with that bright smile of yours, showering it with love and affection. you cuddled with it on your chest every morning, every afternoon, every evening; even when your were working late at night, it was either on your lap or on your desk. (that was his privilege! though he would never admit it, he thrived off your touch. if he could, he would glue himself next to you, never letting go)

rin wasn't the best at voicing his emotions. this past week, you've been all over your cat! gushing about it, playing with it, taking care of it...how about him! he was itching for you to cuddle with him again, or lay his head on your lap as you gave him his head scratches that he oh so adored; even a quick touch would mean heaven for him at this point!

deprived of your touch, rin has begun to utterly despise your cat. oh, to him it was the definition of the devil itself —nuzzling up to you all the time, taking your attention away from him, your boyfriend, squishing itself in the middle of you two in the middle of your horror movie nights, or even worse, evicting him away from his spot in your arms. he was getting crankier, but he wouldn't say anything! he just gave you fleeting touches hoping you'd get the hint, which of course, you didn't.

tonight, it was the night. he wanted your touch back, no, he needed it back! it's been a week, a week away from you (not really, rin's exaggerating here.) the three of you were sitting on the shared couch, watching yet another horror movie. instead of you cuddling up to him, you were instead petting your cat! softly stroking it's fur and scratching just behind it's ears. it let out a content purr, satisfied with your ministrations. rin, could not focus on the movie at all, despite horror being his favorite genre.

when you momentarily left to grab some water. rin pounced on the chance to give your cat his signature death stare, it hissing back in response to rin's hostility. rin didn't falter, he cupped the cat's cheeks 'gently', glaring into it's eyes:

"get away from my girlfriend, you lukewarm creature." he muttered, only to be met with your cat's sharp paws smacking his face.

you were watching from afar, biting back your laughter at the hilarious exchange between your cat and your boyfriend. joining them back at the couch, you picked up your cat, prying it away from rin, who was moments away from god knows what, nuzzling into your arms as it glared rin down.

"...rin- are you picking a fight with my baby?"

"i'm your baby."

authors note: god i wish i had a cat too :( there may be some mischaracterization here but i had this idea and wrote it in like 30 mins...might write a pt 2 where rin gets along w ur cat at last!

[squiddy-god]

hsr men manhandling pt2

(Blade, sampo, loucha)

Once again here we are, lust in my heart. The other one is quite popular so here we go with a part two<3 i really liked the way the last one turned out so i decided to do more characters, i think the next one i'm doing is gonna be female characters. Maybe a little sampo slander (i love him i promise)��

♥︎REQUESTS ARE OPEN♥︎

Cw: smut, suggestive content to nsfw, manhandling, top! Characters, dom characters, no pronouns, gn! Reader, fem/ftm/masc/mtf friendly, established relationship, implied chubby reader, rough sex, penetration, oral (you and character receiving), fuzzy handcuffs (sampo), marking (blade), stupid/silly petnames (sampo), dare i say…a bit of switch sampo??face fucking,  as always everything is consensual (very sexy) and aftercare is always given even if not explicitly mentioned 

Blade 

AUGH 

Bladie is legitimately strong as hell, but the thing is that whether he's doing it on purpose or accident depends on the situation 

Blade manhandles you a lot, he tends to be a man of few words so if he needs you moved he is moving you, if he wants affection he is moving you

Sitting next to him and he wants you sat in his lap where you should be? Hes grabbing you, hands gripping your waist as he pulls you against him

Speaking of that his kisses are quite similar, grabbing your jaw and turning your face so he can kiss you

Or a hand on the back of your head that pushes your face together, 

Blade likes having you lay on top of him and he will actually drag you on top of him 

These are things he does unintentionally that end with you getting man handled 

But let's not forget that dear bladie is a bit (read: very) feral

He is the king of manhandling, im talking he throws you on the bed type manhandling

Picking you up and pinning you to the wall while holding the backs of your knees to keep you good and folded in half.

His lower body pressed against you so you can feel how hard he his while he grinds into you 

And he KNOWS HE KNOWS what he's doing when he squishes handfuls of your soft fletch in his hands while he folds you however he likes, he knows how much it turns you on 

He's rough, rough hands and rough chipped edges that used to be smooth. Blade as a whole is a rough man and his bedroom habits are no different- his every touch and movement carries a strength and sort of force behind it 

There's a part of him that revels in the fact that his roughness turns you on, the little shudder that runs through your body when you feel his finger dig into your hips and waist 

I feel like marking plays a huge role in the manhandling actually because blade wants to see you so covered in his marks that they resemble the scars on his body 

He is covered in them, not an inch spared- and so neither will yours

Pinning you face down with his hips rutting against yours while he sucks hickeys and bites between your shoulder blades (im hilarious) and neck. 

Sampo

Him 

He is fully aware and it's on purpose 2000% 

He teases you about it relentlessly the second that he finds out, honestly he probably found out either by accident or because he was teasing you 

He runs up to you, picking you up while he kisses your stomach face buried it its softness- and when he looks up seeing how flustered you are hes already working overtime 

“Ohhhh ho ho! Now sweetcheeks don't tell me you like when ol’ sampo’s rough with ya” 

He's so mean! He bullies you honestly and he doesn't even feel bad! 

SHOVES HIS COLD HANDS UNDER YOUR SHIRT AND JUST HOLDS YOU THERE SO YOU CAN'T ESCAPE! The meanie! And it never lasts being cute either because it turns into him grabbing your tummy and waist, then hes going for your chest and oops his hands are in your pants and he's using you to the nearest secluded spot 

a lot of his manhandling comes from squishing and squeezing you 

He's a tummy and thigh man and i won't be taking criticism because im right- aha told me themselves 

He loves and adores your tummy and thighs, squeezing, groping, he really can't get enough and that leads to him manhandling you

Like i said lust in my heart- so im gonna need you to hear me out on this one guys i need, and i mean NEED sampo in one of those sexy cop costumes 

See it's funny because he is a criminal- 

But like he's pinning you down, the sound of clicking as he cuffs you with the fuzzy handcuffs before he is jerking your his back to slot oh so perfectly against his 

I feel like sampo kinda likes when you man handle him a bit too (i wanna grab his bewbs) and he wouldn't mind if YOU were the one in the sexy cop costume, the short shorts showing off the thighs he loves so much as he lets you pin and cuff him~ 

Sampo likes face fucking and its one of the ways he manhandles you. moving your head up and down on his length while he has the nerve to coo at you 

You can feel his hands cradle your head and you already know what's coming (him lmao) “come on love-bug wanna give poor sampo a treat?” and its the way he sounds almost desperate that has you always nodding your head as you feel his fingers tighten before he's pushing you all the way down 

I hate him <3 (i'm a big liar)

Loucha 

Now here me out this man is a gentleman

Wouldn't dream of manhandling you because he is oh so gentle, so sweet to you its almost- almost suspicious

That being said when he does it's on purpose

For all his gentlemanly acts there is something writhing just below the surface, the most miniscule glint in his eyes and the slight amount of extra pressure in his hand as he guides you with him through the streets 

But he is a man with seemingly infinite self control 

But thats only what it seems like

Even one with an abundance (haha) of patience can sometimes have said patience grow thin, its times like this that loucha takes it upon himself to remind you that things are often not as they appear

 Fear not however, most of his “frustration” comes when you try to squirm away or hide- loucha loves to see and hear you, watch your face twitch and your body write at the onslaught (abundance hahahaha) of pleasure that his hands bestow 

He keeps your hands pinned nicely above your head to make sure there is no hiding your lovely face from him, and it shows his slight sadistic streak because the way he looks down at you?

Those lovely olive green eyes looking down at you laced with something akin to condescension- as if you were so silly to attempt to hide away from his gaze,  

I think loucha is a big fan of you riding him, his hands able to grip fistfull of your plush hips and thighs when your legs start to burn and he can manhandle you up and down his length to his heart's content  

And he just coos up at you, voice rumbling as he holds you tight again him and all but slams his hips forward, the languid movement of his hips has stopped and been replaced with the deep bruising movements that have you clawing at his back and the sheets 

“Ah ah my sweet, my mercy has a limit when you have denied me the pleasure of seeing you like this” and you realize through the way his hands roughly grasp at every soft inch of you that it was indeed mercy, but the way he all but moans out his desire to simply see you writhe like this beneath him makes it all the sweeter to test the limits of said mercy 

[uzurakis]

Yess so glad to see more Sakamoto days fans 😏 may I request some Nagumo headcanons with him being in a relationship, kinda curious about how’d he be like in an argument with s/o

ೀ ׅ ۫ . YOICHI NAGUMO RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS ?

SFW and NSFW under the cut!

n. i just recycled and elaborate the sfw ones from the asked i got from my 🎲 anon, added other things also. i love writing my stinky rascal . . hope u enjoy ^3^

the dynamic in a relationship with nagumo will be natural & playful so it allows the relationship to develop organically. your relationship with him is built on a foundation of mutual understanding and subtle communication. instead of a formal confession, his consistent flirting and genuine expressions of affection serve as his way of showing his feelings.

his love languages would be heavy on physical touch, means that he expresses and receives love most profoundly through physical closeness and touch. accepts pda; in fact, he prefers to take the lead. never let him take his hands off of you, somehow. pulls you by the waist and gives you a nosy kiss. he enjoys spending quality time, although his profession occasionally prevents him from doing so. however, he will make the most of his time with you while it is available.

really clingy in private. won’t let you get out off the bed by hugging you from behind. he’s also the big spoon most of the time.

he talks in his sleep when he’s comfortable with you, murmuring about how much you mean to him and lazy smooches here and there. likes to pretend to be asleep as well so you continue to caress him in bed when he’s ‘asleep’.

traps you in a hug every single time. nagumo just comes out of nowhere to hug you, not letting you go, and says “caught youu” and carries you in bridal style around the house.

if you love his tattoos, he definitely walks around naked in the house. also, the sign that he truly trusts you with all his life is when he tells you the meaning of each tattoo he has.

put your belongings at the topmost shelf so you need to call him for help or hides your stuffs in the most random places ever.

you guys have board and card games around the house. monopoly? uno? guess who? snakes & ladders? just name it.

i’ve seen so many times others saying he loves to play pranks, i definitely agree. intentionally getting you on your nerves just for him to apologize with another set of pranks. he’s just silly like that.

contrarily to beliefs, he likes to mull over after you guys argue and gives you space as he rethinks and reflects his actions. when he apologizes after a big fight, he takes both of your hands and swings them left and right as he explains, still teases but with a nervous smile this time.

a flirt, teaser, prankster, drama queen, what else?

he MATCHES YOUR FREAK, did i tell you he’s a nasty in bed? one hell of an experimentalist, doesn’t mind doing anything with you. his rage is huge, i’ll tell you that. vanilla? roleplay? waxplay? pegging? all down, just name it.

quickies at inconvenient times. you guys have a meeting in 10 minutes? 4 minutes is enough to do your thing in the public bathroom together.

likes to steal glances to your tits when you guys talk. i believe he’s a tit guy rather than ass. though, in public, his hands tends to uncontrollably go down to your ass when he circles you by the waist.

too good at nipple play.

nagumo likes you make you squirt, his personal favorite. however, for him, he likes it when you give him a handjob.

talks & coos to your pussy likes its you!

in bed, he likes it when you go rough, i think it’s really going to turn him on. just ride him i swear. might be one of his best times in life.

crack jokes during it, he’s quite humorous doing sex. compliments you in a funny way and says hilarious things also. expect your sex won’t be too serious and just all laughs & giggles.

doesn’t give a fuck about bounds, so semi public and publix sex are often.

@uzurakis

[panic-at-the-fiction]

The death of you

Summary: You and your best friend have your usual movie night except he can’t seem to keep his cuddly hands to himself and your close to physical combusting. Just a bit of your usual order of slightly angsty desired filled romance with little touch starved reader on the side.

Warnings: doesn’t go any farther than kissing just very passionate, very suggestive, Maybe I’m biased as the author, but damn it’s hot.

A/N: So I’ve been out of practice for 10 months now. Haven’t even wrote more than a paragraph that I just turned around and delete 20 minutes later these past few months. But let’s just say I found some inspiration to use for our favorite fictional men and we’ll see how this goes.

Movie night with Eddie, that’s normal, done it a million times. With friends, just the two of you, late at night, middle of day, outside, inside, at the theater, at his house, thrillers, comedies, action, romance, anything and everywhere for years. So why was this time different?

Currently you were sitting on Eddie’s couch watching the most recently picked out tape from the family video store. Steve let you guys borrow them for free as long as you brought the tape back the very next day. You guys watched movies all the time, so why was your heart beating out of your chest like a race horse on its final stretch to the finish line? Was it because his arm was around you?

No it couldn’t be that, Eddie was a big cuddler, it didn’t mean anything. He loved hugs despite his scary image in the public eyes, and he was always finding weird ways to poke, prod, or touch you. He was the type of friend to bite your shoulder when he got bored, an absolutely feral mad man type guy. And he knew that despite your lack of experience with physical affection, you never mind when it came from him. He always got your free pass.

Maybe it was the slow circles you felt him drawing on your skin? Or how occasionally his hands would slip into your hair, playing with it? Much more intimate little things that were making you feel like you were going to jump out of your skin from just the hints at this new kind of physical touch.

Yep, that was definitely the issue.

You tried removing his arm from around your shoulder and instead brought it back down to his side. But when he looked at you with such confused puppy dog eyes, you caved and played it off as just repositioning yourself as you instead wrapped around his arm and leaned into his side, laying your head on his shoulder. You could never deny him anything, just another issue of being so damn in love with your best friend.

As the movie ticked on and you both stuck to your usual quiet with some slight hilarious commentary during the movie, Eddie eventually pulled you closer so that he could bury his head into the back of your neck. One of his hands came up to play with your hair some more.

You knew he wasn’t paying attention to the movie anymore. He couldn't possibly see it, the way he was laying his head into your neck. Of course, it wasn't a very intriguing movie either, just not a great pick this time. But now he was rubbing the same small circles right under your ear, this time, and every so often his hand would find itself tangled in your hair. You tried to keep yourself straight and breathing consistently without letting your mind wander too far. He had to know this! That HE was killing you slowly.

Your breath nearly hitched this time when you swear you felt him ever so lightly brush his lips against the side of your neck. Did you imagine that part? God, you hoped he would do it again.

You weren’t even questioning why he would do any of this, you just knew you had to get yourself out of there before he realized how much of a mess this was turning you into.

As the movie came to an end you swear he had brushed his lips against your neck at least twice more, and you still couldn’t tell if it was intentional.

“Eddie it’s getting late I’ll have to go home soon.”

“Yeah” he muttered into your hair, all the while holding you tighter.

You gave him, and even more importantly, yourself, another minute before attempting to pull away. “Eddie, I have to get home soon.” You sounded like a broken record as you once again tried half-heartedly to pull yourself free from him.

He only pulled you back in and buried his head into your other shoulder. His arm came around, this time drawing lines down the front of your neck, and you shook at the feeling. This time your hand came up, cupping his head and running your fingers through his hair. Which only caused him to brush his lips against your shoulder once more. That’s it, it had to be intentional.

You swore you would combust into flames if you stayed there any longer like this. As every trace down your throat made you stop breathing. “I'm going to have to be the bad guy. I have to go.” You said, completely pulling away from him this time, moving to the other side of the couch.

He groaned, but nodded as he let you move away from him this time. He ran a hand through his hair before staring at you, darker and more lovingly than you had ever seen before. “Man, you're pretty with your hair messed up.”

God, that was the final straw. You jumped up off the couch. “You can’t say shit like that, Eddie.” You ran your hands up and down your arms, trying to stop how shaken you felt. Your nerves were on high, and he was still looking at you with that same stare.

“Why not?”

“Because!”

“Because what?”

“You’re my best friend. You can’t sit here and hold me like that, and stare at me like that and kiss my neck softly like that and then expect me to just be able to functionally drive home like it was another normal movie night hangout.” You snapped. He had you wound up and your lack of dating experience left you mad for more touches from Eddie.

He sunk low and pain hit you in the gut. “I didn’t realize I was crossing any boundaries of our friendship.” He said, leaning back on the couch. “The last thing I ever wanted to do was make you uncomfortable.”

You sat back down next to him, panicking as you realized how he took your reaction. “No, god no, no that’s not what I meant. You never make me feel uncomfortable, Eddie. EVER! I mean, it wasn’t bad like that. It was good…horribly, terribly good. The kind of good you aren’t supposed to feel when watching a movie with your best friend.” You rambled.

So this was how you were going to confess to him your feelings. Man, he had you so on edge, you would admit anything to him right now if he asked.

That almost hungry stare returned to his eyes as he looked back down at you. You had read about that stare before, many times, and honestly, you thought it was an overused phrase in romance. The hungry stare, but honestly, what else could you call a look like that?

“God, you’ll be the death of me, Eddie Munson.” You laughed, not being able to look at him as long as he stared at you with those big brown eyes.

“You should stop taking the lord's name in vain. It’s a bad habit.” Eddie whispered as he leaned closer to you, getting inches away from you. Your foreheads were nearly touching, causing both of you to gently close your eyes at the feeling.

“It's funny, I didn’t have such a problem with it until now.”

You could feel his breath so close to you as your hands found their way back into his hair. He slowly dipped his head further down, leaving the same light kiss in his wake. He could feel you pull him closer and the kisses gained more pressure in a way you had been craving since he first came anywhere near you with his light touches.

As he kissed harder into your neck, your hands switched from running through his hair to almost pulling at it. You began leaning back further on the couch as you pulled him down with you until Eddie was over top of you. You wanted to give him the room to be fully on top of you, so you wrapped your legs around him as he put his whole force over you.

You felt engulfed and dazed in a way you never experienced before as he began to kiss you faster moving sporadically across your neck until he had kissed almost every square inch of you. You focused on keeping your breathing even, trying to spare yourself embarrassment from how simply he had you melting underneath him.

He pulled away from you, hovering over you with that same stare that was filled with so much adoration in it. “God, I would keep you here all night like this. Just right here, all mine, and with nowhere else to be. It’s just so satisfying to be able to wrap you up and hold you in a way I know no one else gets to.”

“You know, I think��� I don’t really have to get home tonight. No one’s going to miss me if I stay here.” You said breathlessly.

Eddie grinned like the devil looking over you. “Good,” he said as he finally bent down, capturing your lips. His hand came up to cup your chin, tilting your head up to meet him.

That was the last straw, you were a melted puddle that belonged to him now. If this was to be only the beginning of the evening, then surely Eddie Munson was going to be the death of you.

[yashirawr]

katsuki, shouto and izuku with a reader who is like giselle from enchanted !!

bnha main three x gn!giselle!reader.

type: headcanons, fluff (& a splash of angst if you squint reaaaally hard)

warnings: kissing, a bit of cursing bc bakugou is here but otherwise so much fluffy fluff ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ reader's quirk is not mentioned per se.

a/n: hi, sweet people !! i've been practicing my english skills to write and expand my vocabulary but i'm still not quite good, so i apologize if you see something misspelled :c i accept criticism !! ok, so, yesterday i saw enchanted and disenchanted and realized how much i wanna be like giselle haha and when i looked for fanfiction with a giselle-like reader i was left heartbroken since i didn't find any TT so i took it upon myself to write something, hope you like this <3

♡ ୭̥ ° bakugo katsuki

this boy is known for showing his hate for sweet things, yet no one – not even him – is able to comprehend why you're the exception.

since the first day of school he can tell you're going to be more annoying than all the other extras. randomly humming and singing, using smooth arm movements as if you came from a fairytale.

you look harmless, a stupid pushover. his only comfort is that you won't get in his way.

or that's what he thinks.

because with time, he starts seeing more of you. his gaze starts to linger whenever you're around, putting careful attention to your actions, your expressions. wide eyes and radiant smile, always trying to spread kindness and love, so genuine; you're like an open book.

katsuki's rough, katsuki's loud, katsuki's explosive.

so imagine his surprise when he realizes with time that the sight of you makes his eyes soften, his chest warm, his guard drop.

he wants to deny it, he wants to deny it very strongly. however, everyone can tell how, little by little, he starts to open up to you.

he lets you be closer, so vivid around him. you can do things that others would get yelled at for trying. when did anyone see somebody getting into bakugou's personal space – whether it is laying on his shoulder or playing with his hair – and leave unharmed? when did anyone see somebody using his stuff and not recieving any kind of ill treatment for doing so?

the two of you start spending time together, much to his dismay because of your classmates' teasing. yet it takes you being in danger during a villain attack for katsuki to realize how deep his feelings are.

oh, no– he's falling in love.

and he goes livid. he might seem like someone who already acts recklessly during combat but that's not the truth at all. the want, the need to take you into his arms and protect you is what leads him to take such impulsive decisions.

don't get him wrong, he knows you can defend yourself; you're just as much of a badass as you are of an optimist, after all.

but it's this side you bring out of him. this soft, tender side.

it drives him crazy.

so, once the horror passes and your class settles into its usual endeavors, he does what he knows best: he tries to push you. he tries to make you leave, to scare you off.

but why aren't you running away?

why are you cradling his face with a gentle, loving touch?

one thing leads to the other and your lips meet in a true love's kiss, as you would say.

after that, katsuki resigns to listening to your rambling about animals and love and flowers–

he's there to give you a reality check when it's needed, anyway.

"get out of that pretty little head of yours, dumbass, there's fucking homework to do"

yeah, he wouldn't have it any other way.

bonus: you're literally a grumpy x sunshine pairing !! it's hilarious to see you two in the common room because katsuki seems to hold back in showing physical affection or any state of flusteredness. you learned not to demand it from him, either, because he always gets red and would hate for anyone else other than you to see it. it's alright, though, because as soon as you're alone he turns into a clingy puppy. good luck trying to get rid of him to do something just as brief as going to the bathroom !!

♡ ୭̥ ° todoroki shouto

shouto's life has never been any sort of fairytale. all that love chitchat... yeah, pretty much false.

but then he meets you, and you're so eager to show him.

so you start sticking to him, following him around. it could look like pestering for some people, but to shouto?

oh, shouto's charmed by you.

it takes him some time. before the sports festival, he couldn't help but give you cold stares and dry replies. of course, your enthusiastic self would take all of that without complaining.

but it is after the event that he starts to open his eyes and contemplate a little more of you. especially after you compliment his quirk and express how happy you are for him, for truly giving his all during the fights and making use of his fire.

another element, you said, that was part of him and needed to be seen. you mentioned how you believed in him, warm smile painted on your lips as you beamed with joy.

there was no way he would get his eyes off of you after that.

although shouto is quiet, his gaze is intense. thankfully you're unaware of such things – trained to being accostumed to stares by your whole life experience – so you can't tell how the next days he's so entranced by you and the way you carry yourself so gracefully.

you see beauty everywhere, often even stopping in your tracks to observe your surroundings. you seem to shine, delighted.

too occupied by twirling around and interacting with everyone around you, you fail to notice how he's softly smiling at the sight.

as time passes, your conversations stop being one-sided. his replies show more interest, it's not only about his gaze anymore but also about the way he accepts all your affections; melting into your touch.

the way he's always there to protect you when villain attacks happen, when anyone looks at you the wrong way or tries to talk to you in as much as a slightly rude tone. the way he comforts you whenever you're sensitive about something, never questioning where did it come from.

you're his top priority.

so when you share a first kiss, he feels his heart pumping so hard it could jump right off his chest. this unknown feeling, leading him to be so attached to you, was love all this time.

you were right about showing him, he figures.

because now holding your hand gives him so much happiness that he now kind of gets why you're so enthusiastic about said concept.

when you go on one of your rambles about it and ask him, "right?" he smiles at you and responds:

"yes, my love, i think i know now"

you smile at him, so widely as you always do, and he leans in to leave a kiss on your forehead.

bonus: when he tells you his family story for the first time, you cry. you cry so much until you feel his strong arms wrap around you. yet shouto, despite trying to comfort you since you were the one crying, feels as if your embrace comforts him. you hug him by the waist, rubbing his back so gently and carefully that it brings tears to his eyes. everyday he feels more enamoured by you.

♡ ୭̥ ° midoriya izuku

you meet for the first time with izuku because of bumping into him during the quirk's test on the first day of class. he falls and you crouch along with him, soft-spokenly apologizing and asking if he's alright.

as he looks up at you, the boy can only think of how you look exactly like an angel.

you best believe our baby broccoli blushes furiously to his ears.

it doesn't take you anything to become friends and when you do he realizes that, despite both of you being pretty positive people, you have very different ways of thinking.

everything to you is magical, wonderful, exciting. izuku learned this from only the first few days of knowing you, and he found it really beautiful and encouraging. it was something to admire you for, and it never failed to impress him the way you would always be open to new opportunities, grateful for every single one you were given.

similarly, nothing to you was ever a problem! so when izuku rambled about his past, his difficulties with his quirk and worries you always found a way to make his point of view shift 180° and move on to positive thoughts.

in a world where he's exposed to so much pressure, you act as a beacon of life that peaks through the darkness.

and so, you're with him every step of the way.

he doesn't even know when his love for you starts blooming, especially since he has such a focus on heroics that doesn't usually let him think about anything else. but when he finds himself dreaming about your bright smile, mumbling as he watches you from afar sing to happy little animals you encountered, blushing to the tips of his ears by only hearing you say his name with so much care and glee–

he realizes too late he's down bad. in fact, he's the last one to realize, since the whole class watches in horror as you two interact so lovingly with each other as almost second nature.

mina has the theory that the two of you are secretly together, but it is obvious for everyone that if you two really were, you would be shouting it to the four winds. that's just who you are, and that's just how they know izuku loves you.

of course, you're the first one to make a move.

you go up to him before class one random morning and ask him if he would like to go out on friday afternoon. he accepts at first, smiling widely at you and you respond with a bubbly "alright then! it's a date!"

his face seemed to turn all shades of red and even go through some other colors before digesting that information.

"a-a d-date with me...?" he lifts a finger, you hum in amusement.

"of course, silly. i'd want no other prince for me but you."

needless to say, it goes amazingly and now the class has to deal with you giving him little pecks on his lips, cheeks and hands as he turns red because of the sudden affection.

bonus: in his notebook page about your quirk he has written a whole analysis of how you and your voice are appealing to animals and what does that have to do with it. he even tried talking about it to you, but your reply was: "i'm not quite sure, but i can only be grateful about them! they are my friends and i'm truly fortunate for their company!"

[suguru-getos]

Fluffcember with Satoru Gojo

Prompt: Reassurances

Summary: You are in the early phases of your relationship with Satoru where you haven't even kissed each other yet. Taking things comfortingly and achingly slow. Unfortunately for you, you’re reminded of his ‘Uncommitted Fuckboy’ & he reassures you through it. Warnings: None really, just extreme fluff and comfort and Satoru being a care-giver and a Daddy pro max!

Your brother came back from a gathering of sorts, it was all related to Jujutsu High and being a third-year there, he was privy to a lot of information you weren’t. Though now that you’re dating his Sensei without actually telling him, your questions & curiosities have increased a tenfold. “So, how was your day?”

Your brother came in, opened the fridge like a racoon in a dumpster & took out a Coke zero, clearly tired & a tad annoyed. “S’ good.” He chuckles, rolling his eyes. “Something very funny happened today.”

You irked a brow, mostly all the funny things are related to your now boyfriend. "What happened?" You asked, curiosity bubbling behind your eyes.

"There's this sorcerer- her name's Mei Mei, she flirts with Sensei so hard it's hilarious!" He cackled, manspreading on the dining table seat after microwaving the sandwich and sighed. "She was all like- 'of course Satoru kun, you can help me can't you?' because she was assigned a mission which was seemingly hard." You felt a pang of anxiety touch your chest at that, nodding with a faked smile. Can't show your brother you're affected by this after all.

"H-heh, funny… what did he say?" You inquired, and your brother shrugged. "Said he would help." You bite your lip, of course- Satoru is not someone to refuse his aid to anyone. Even you knew that about him… but clearly, did he not pick up the signals? "Shyeah- of course." You waved your hand dismissively. "I think they have done it definitely." Your brother snickers. "I mean- Sensei is so popular I'm sure all the female sorcerers would've wanted a piece of him." He groans, "So annoying to me though."

You smiled, not able to maintain this conversation without it affecting your core. Satoru was gorgeous, he could pick a finger at anything and would get that for himself. There was absolutely no doubt about it. Which is why… it's concerning as to why he is dating someone like you. Someone so normal, someone miles away from the Jujutsu world. Someone who had no place in his world. He was utterly sweet to you as well. So far you haven't had any arguments with him either. A defeated sigh escaped your parted lips as the thoughts multiplied and cluttered your mind. You went to your room to sulk. As if being a Corporate baddie wasn't enough. Now you also need to take account of what's happening in Jujutsu world with your boyfriend. Sickening…

As if to balm your insecurity with reassurance, Satoru's name flashed on your phone screen in a phone call. "Hello.." You answered the phone hesitantly.

"Oh hello Little One! How are ya? Just checkin' up on you. Hope you don't mind that mm?" "No, not at all, I've just come home from work. How are you?" You tried to sound as normal as you can, the lower octave of your voice not gone unnoticed despite you stiffening yourself up to sound as normal as you can. "Something the matter Princess?" The nickname slipped out of his lips so easily, right now you wonder if it's so easy because its meaningless. "Nah, nothing's the matter. My brother just came home you know? So I was just talking to him about er- school and stuff." You answered half-truth. Satoru's head tilted to the side, tongue clicking. "Something that pissed you off?" He asked softly, and you nodded your head yes, but your voice lied. "Nah, s' al good. Don't worry. Maybe I'm just really tired you know?" "Mhm, gotcha~ maybe, you are tired… you know what can help? A sugar rush." Satoru snickered over the phone and you sighed. There is no way you can escape this man's gaze if you were to meet him right now. "Nah, really tired. Headachey too…" You excuse yourself, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut at the silence on the other side. "Alright, take rest." Satoru sounded genial and soft, and with that you heard the beep of the call disconnecting.

You were starting to get angry at yourself, why does it even matter. You two haven't even been together for a month yet. This is truly pathetic…

You shoved all the thoughts off your head, journalling them off. Whatever… who cares. Yeah, whatever…

The next few days you tried your best to ignore Satoru, picking up his calls and answering in one-word sentences, declining his proposal to meet for dates or to just catch-up. Until you finally saw him one day at your home. You gasped, blinking when you opened the door and found him manspreading on the couch as if he owned the place.

"Sah- Satoru what`" "He's just here to be a nuisance." Your brother's voice chimed in from his room. "He needs something from me." You glanced at Satoru, who quickly removed his blindfold and made sure his eyes stared right into you. "Well, not my fault you can't search for the scroll I handed to you brats." He shrugged, of course an excuse… he wanted to come and see you. "Hello, Y/N san!" He chirped excitedly, and you waved him a Hello right back; gulping. "How have you been?" Satoru asked again, you nodded with a half-smile. "I'm good, Gojo San, are you good, too?" "No, I'm not… and you know why." His tone was soft, tender, as if he didn't want the pressure of his words to get to you.

"I- I see…" You looked down at your feet, looking back up at him. "You said you'll work late today." He almost whispered, shit- you completely forgot about that excuse you made for him,

"Oh yeah- ahem, well yeah… I will freshen up and login again." You grinned, trying to save your sorry ass.

"No" Satoru simply denied your statement.

"You are going to freshen up, and then utter why you're behaving this way." He didn't sound easy this time, you were hearing him speak to you sternly and seriously for the first time ever. You can't blame him though, he's worried… and it only warms your heart more that he is worried.

Before you could open your mouth, your brother came back to the drawing room. Stomping and giving him the damned scroll. Ugh- timing!

"Jaa- see you two!" He grinned, head-patting your brother and looking into your eyes.

Before you could say anything further, you found yourself back in your room. Answering his call…

"Are you getting out of the house or should I carry you out myself in front of your brother?" Satoru almost sung, and you knew there was a tad bit of a truth laced to that threat.

"I'm getting out." You rolled your eyes.

"Aw, that's a good girl."

The moment you were outside, Satoru teleported beside you, hand intertwining with yours and helping you walk in fucking air. You blinked, not registering how this is happening. It was like invisible stairs that take you to the breath-taking sky. Stars have just started to pop up as the night blanket wraps the city of Tokyo.

"What's bothering my baddie?" Satoru hums, and before you could answer, he interrupted again. "Don't say nothing else I'll start being really paranoid and restless, that's no good is it?" He coos, leaning in to make you feel more comfortable.

You finally decided to speak up, pouting and telling him everything about Mei Mei and what your brother told you. Then telling him how that made you feel truly.

He chuckles, rolling his eyes and cupping your face preciously. You blinked, taken aback by the sudden stance of affection but not leaning away. You wanted this… you wanted him to touch you, to soothe your worries away. "I can't believe my silly little girl would be so stressed about something like this It's nothing. Even if Mei Mei flirted, I would never return her affections or anyone else's." He smiled, "You know why? Cause I really want no one else but you Little One. I would never lose this." His eyes observed you once more, hands squeezing your face tenderly. "For something meaningless… I would never do anything to risk this, never. I promise you."

His words echoed in your ears and you couldn't help but nod a little with a smile. "Sorry- I just, you know it's not been a lot of time to us and-"

"So what!" Satoru giggles, "Time is a construct, and definitely not a measuring parameter when you're dating someone like me. Or if I am dating someone as amazing and kind and yet, fierce and firm as you." He winked.

"I promise you sweet Princess, I would never, ever… let anyone near me." His sincerity touches your heart, and you leaned in, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

"Aw! I get a hug! Good sign!" Satoru beams, kissing the crown of your head and rubbing your arms comfortingly.

"Let me show you now the skyline looks, neh?"

[elysiansparadise]

Their mind is a wonderful world, their personality charming and charismatic and a shy heart capable of helping and supporting those close to them.

Aquarius Rising: Unique and loyal friend

These people grew up with an idea, to be different from everything they got used to seeing in their day to day. They could have grown up seeing many things that they didn't like, which could lead them to do things their own way and they could have difficulties with some people of authority because of it. A feeling of not fitting in either with your family or with people your age, which led you to fully appreciate when you felt that click with someone, being one of the companies, the most constant, fun and accepting. Your autonomy and independence are the most important things to you, you are always looking to forge your own path and leave your mark on whatever you are passionate about.

Although money is necessary to survive in our world, people with Pisces in the 2nd house tend to have a different approach to economic issues. They will not hesitate to use that money to help other people, coming to show many altruistic touches from a young age. They should learn to balance what they give and what they receive, because it is likely that on occasions they sin out of kindness and lend or give money to people who they will never return. Many of them may have a tendency to spend their money on their hobbies, especially if these are linked to art or esotericism, and sometimes they may feel that they spend money as fast as it comes into their hands. Their creativity and originality is something that gives them that confidence boost, it's something they feel proud of themselves. Something I have noticed is that they seem to have a unique and very close appreciation of art, especially music. Feeling that they can do things their own way, that they are not tied to something or someone gives them a sense of security, as well as the power to create whatever their mind wants. As it is a house linked to self-esteem, it can tell us about a certain variability in it, a lot of modesty on the part of the native and not knowing how to react to compliments, and although they do not know how, they will treasure it with great affection. They value things that are a little deeper, they don't like superficialities of any kind and they will always look for what seems most sincere and significant to them.

The mind of those with Aries in the 3rd house is admirable. Independent and quick thinking, these natives are people who remain firm to their own ideals, opinions and do not seek to please others, they seek autonomy in its maximum splendor. They are excited by the idea of ​​connecting with people who, just like them, have a mind of their own, one that is not biased by pleasing people behaviors or attitudes. They easily fascinate others, because they say what they think without fear of what might happen, they are firm and blunt with what they say, with a quick intellect capable of quickly understanding ideas of any kind. They have a tendency to be easily distracted and lose interest after doing something for a long time, they constantly seek mental stimuli and that is precisely what makes them have very varied interests. They are very ingenious people when it comes to making comments, they stand out for their great sense of humor, since this is random and capable of seeming hilarious to anyone. A mixture of reasoning and humor. They love the idea of ​​constantly learning new things, and if possible, doing it on their own, as it is something they enjoy doing more independently. In the case of having siblings, the relationship can oscillate between being dynamic and fun and having many differences with them, they are not usually very attached or demonstrative to each other but they can support each other when necessary.

With Taurus in the 4th house it is very likely that the native sees his home as something monotonous in some sense, the same environment, the same discussions, everything seems to have been the same for the natives. Something that absolutely all these natives grow up with is the desire to have something stable in their lives, to finally have a home that gives them peace and conformity, and when they finally find something that gives them that stability and tranquility, they don't let go easily. Somehow their environment influenced that need to protect what is theirs, to keep the things that they consider important and not to show vulnerability so easily. And it's not that they aren't emotional, on the contrary, they are very emotional, it's just that they reserve a large part of their feelings. This Taurus overlay also indicates that they may feel closer to one of their parents than to the other, since with the latter they tend to feel some distance or even distrust in some cases. Those who really know them will know that they can be very stable people in their relationships, people who fill their loved ones with details and security, as well as being reliable people who will always try to be there for those they love, either to listen to them or advise them. In order for them to feel emotional comfort, closeness with those they love is crucial, even if their adventurous and inquisitive personality encourages them and makes them attract changes, they do not like changes as much as is often rumored, stability and trust are things that they treasure and irregular or inconstant displays of affection cause them disgust.

Mercury ruling the 5th house is something very fascinating that brings many interesting suitors to the natives. Having Gemini in the 5th house makes the native master the language of seduction, makes them very adept at flirting and realising the true intentions of the people who want them, they are very observant and attentive to the actions of those who say they have an interest in them and are not fooled by them. Many different people can be attracted to them, because there is a playful and jovial beauty in them. Despite this appearance, these natives do not mince words and games, they are looking for a mental connection, someone to talk to for hours and someone who knows how to keep their attention. In terms of hobbies, many of them may like to read romance or drama novels, they will enjoy movies of these genres and even comedy ones, and of course, they can be excellent writers, especially if they have a metaphorical or poetic way of writing. From a very young age they begin to consider whether or not they want to have children, and regardless of what they choose, these natives tend to connect very well with children and have that facility to understand and communicate with them.

Having Cancer in the 6th house, that is, the house of health, it is necessary for the native to work a lot in their emotional world, since many of them may have this tendency to get sick due to some emotional discomfort that is projected on a physical level. Many of them may not sleep due to stress or intrusive thoughts, just as they may have irregular eating periods due to their emotional state. Many of them seem to understand very well the needs and emotions of other beings, both human and animal. Since I mentioned it, you can feel very close to animals and they will always be kind, loving and helpful to them, even if they are not your pets. These people seek to work for a specific reason, often a cause or a goal, and it is unlikely that they decide to dedicate to something just because they will be paid well, they seek to feel comfortable with their work and do something that they really like, and feel that it is of some use to them and to others. It is likely that these natives get bored doing household chores and may procrastinate doing them, considering them very boring and monotonous. Something very common in them is constantly doing things they used to do as children, whether it's watching the same movies they loved so much or listening to songs that take them back to moments they treasure. They may have a tendency to melancholy and some mood swings.

These people do not seek to be like someone, they seek to be themselves and do things their way, which makes them stand out from the crowd and attract attention. Leo in the 7th house manifests itself as a charming and charismatic person even if the native himself does not perceive himself that way. Very protective and stable people in their relationships, this without neglecting the fun and joy that they seek to bring to those they love the most. Despite this, the natives could feel invisible to others who claimed to love them, therefore, what they seek in a relationship is attention, perseverance and a noble heart willing to love them as much and with the intensity with which they love themselves. They make clear that they don’t need someone to be happy, and they seem to be okay without any partner, but sometimes it can be due to the fear of becoming dependent or loving a person who will leave them. They give their partners that passion for living, reasons to smile and lots of love. They are capable of making their loved one feel the most attractive person in the world, as well as the luckiest. They will always look for the happiness of both as a couple, and they will seek to support their partner unconditionally. They tend to get carried away more by their emotions when they are in a relationship and they will always take care of that love that brings so much euphoria to their lives. Lucky to attract the attention of others. This placement indicates that the native can marry a passionate, ambitious person who will make their love for them very evident.

There is too much going on in their internal world, and that is what we will explore through Virgo in the 8th house. Many of them struggle with this tendency to overthink things, from why what happens in their lives happens, to why people have certain attitudes towards them [whether good or bad]. These people may have felt that at some point in their life they were being asked to be perfect, whether it was their family, friends or even themselves who wanted to achieve perfection because they felt that there was something wrong with themselves. Being ruled by Mercury, it enhances the curiosity of the native, who will love to talk and discover all those topics that seem interesting to him. They tend to be very interested in things that many others find strange, taboo or very complex. They tend to be attracted to intelligent and mysterious people with a cunning sense of humor. Since we are talking about attraction, we must say that these people may seem aloof or indifferent, but they carry a great sexual desire that is simply subtle in the eyes of others. This independent personality that anyone would notice about them is what is often seen as irresistible to others. The subject of domination can be something very attractive for them [either dominating or being dominated], in addition, they seek to satisfy all the fantasies of their partner in various ways and find pleasure through the pleasure of their partner.

Sometimes what seems different or very distant to us can be terrifying, but it is not the case of these natives, who are fascinated and enchanted even with the small details of other cultures or countries. Libra in the 9th house gives them the ability to appreciate different types of beauty and to connect harmoniously with many kinds of people regardless of their origin. They are enchanted by the idea of ​​knowing the unknown, of being able to have the opportunity to travel and see those places that have always caught their attention. Art is something very beautiful to them, they are in awe of art and it would not be surprising that many of them do some kind of art as a hobby. They are interested in social issues around the globe, and have a strong belief that we are all and should be treated equally. Justice is something very important to them and they always stand up when witnessing situations of injustice. This placement can indicate studying something related to humanities, design, art or even law. The union is something crucial for them, and although they have a strong individuality, they understand that unity is strong and necessary on many occasions, they will be willing to help people who need it. They teach other people the beauty and joy that sharing time or thoughts with someone can bring, likewise many people may feel that these natives are experts in connecting and understanding others no matter how different they may be.

There is something fascinating running through the aura of these natives and the person responsible for this is Scorpio in the 10th house. There is something about them that makes them fascinating in the public eye, something magnetic that makes you unable to take your eyes off them and the more you see their look, the more reasons it gives you to keep watching. They draw attention quite easily, as they are a mix of mystery and sexyness, standing a few feet from you but feeling so far away at the same time. These natives can have somewhat of a mixed reputation, while some view them as unapproachable, others may describe them as controversial, whether due to their unconventional ideals, actions, or simply labelling them. These natives seek to project themselves as strong and unbreakable people, they dislike feeling that they have revealed a lot about themselves or that they have shown themselves to be vulnerable in some way. Mars and Pluto rule this house, the career house, so you are blessed with the ambition of both planets, as well as perseverance and leadership skills. You can suggest that they will work on something in which they have a leadership position, where they make important decisions or that allows them to transform or make big changes in some area.

Sagittarius in the 11th house can give us many interesting interpretations. The first is that once conversing with them, these natives can seem more sociable than they really are. Many of them know how to have fun, and have that unique ability to light up the atmosphere of the site and the mood of others, however they give a very special meaning to the term "friendship" and that is that although it is crucial for them to know someone with whom they share points of view and a sense of humour, they seek loyal and deep company, with whom they can ask to talk about many topics no matter how deep or personal they are. This house is ruled by Jupiter, so it augurs charisma, charm and popularity [whether in real life or on the internet], likewise, it also indicates that through their work they can make a lot of profit [especially if Jupiter it's here or in earth houses]. The person can get a lot of luck through working with others. They can have that facility to create friends through the internet or with whom there is a lot of physical distance. They are very visionary people with many long-term plans, it is likely that they work on many things or projects simultaneously, we must mention that there is a probability that some of these natives procrastinate.

With Capricorn in the 12th house there is friction between you and the world around you, very subtle for them, but one that presses on your chest and hits your mind every time you interact with someone. A part of you wants to connect with others and forge lasting bonds with lots of people, but memories of a lonely past where attempts were crushed by feelings of not fitting in and being judged have made you shut down and forget the idea, that dream of clicking with people. Showing yourself in control of the situation, even of yourself but deep down you fear. Fears, it's something we all have... but what about you? What can a being as sublime as you fear? Falling into a routine, doing what others tell you to do, or feeling like you can't forge your path seems terrifying. But if there is something that you fear more often than this, it’s having even the slightest proof of failure, the fear of taking a wrong step that will bring down your efforts, feeling that there is no reward for working hard. You want to stand out and feel like you are successful, being just yourself, you could be compared a lot in the past either by others or by your younger self, so you developed the need to do things on your own, the way that you want and of course, being someone unique. Burdened with guilt, emotions and a negative perception of yourself that you try to supply and alleviate by achieving great things and living up to the high expectations you set for yourself. If you only knew that your mere presence, that your actions, your dreamy side, your ambitions and how you pursue them are truly inspiring to those around you. "Be the person you would have liked to have by your side." Many times you felt alone, especially when things fell apart, but you know that you don't want to be that for others. The people who are with you feel capable of achieving whatever they want to achieve because they have your support, they have your vision, and most importantly, you are there. You do not need to prove yourself to anyone, not even to yourself, you are a person deserving of good things and good company. Future doesn’t have to be the way your past was, it’s going to be alright, love.

[pastafossa]

Haunted (Matt Murdock x TRT!Reader, Fic, SFW)🌧️

Right, so close to 3 years ago, I had an ask in my box: 'what would happen if TRT!Reader/Jane Hind lost her memory just before returning to Matt after her three months away', aka: just before point where they both confessed their love and got together in mainline TRT. So I wrote up a fairly angsty, no happy ending sort of fic about it, which you can find here. But there just felt like there was more to the story, and the idea of a sequel wouldn't leave me alone, so I've worked on it in little bits and pieces over the past few years and I'm finally ready to unleash that into the world now that it's been edited to my satisfaction.

This will have a happy ending and hurt/comfort, once we swim through a lot of Matt Suffering. <3 Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

Leaving him like that shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. You didn’t know him. This man should have been nothing more than a stranger on the street, one you wouldn’t glance twice at, much less feel some ridiculous sense of attachment or obligation to. Yet the memory of walking out of his apartment still left you shaken whenever you allowed yourself to think too long on it.  He… shouldn’t have been alone. That was wrong, somehow.  There was no memory attached to the thought, no blinking sign you could point to that would justify your growing unease. You just knew it. You knew it in the way you knew how to breathe, how to blink, knowledge etched into your very bones over and over by an unfamiliar hand. And no matter what you did, no matter where you went, you were unable to escape the feeling that… that you’d made a terrible mistake, broken something good, tilted the world on its axis until the whole of the city, the earth, the very sky hung just a little crooked like an off-center painting.  Matt was alone.  You’d left him alone.  It was the right choice, one you’d made dozens if not hundreds of times before. Hell, it should have been even easier this time since there were no memories to hold you back. So… why did you feel so very sick?

Wordcount: 11, 805 words so, hilariously, about 3 times the length of Part 1

Warnings for this chapter: angst, alcohol, matt spiraling fairly badly, he throws some things, LOTS of TRT references and spoilers so I wouldn't do this one unless you've finished the Miami arc in TRT.

Sad Matt gif as a reminder that the angst is pretty heavy here because I'm really going to emotionally beat on this poor man for a bit.

At Ciro’s insistence, you gave yourself one month in Hell’s Kitchen. 

A month wasn’t much time, granted, but it would hopefully be enough to see if there was a chance of bringing back the memories you’d lost: memories of friends, of your life here, and of… of whatever it was that you’d had with Matt Murdock. Based on his grief over the loss of Jane Hind—not you, but her surely, the role, the mask you’d worn while here—his attachment to her had been deep and fervent, and those feelings appeared to have been at least partly reciprocated. The dangerously intimate photo you’d found in your memory box was all the proof you needed of that. 

Your past self had already been accustomed to his touch when the photo was taken, based on the way she’d allowed him to press his head tenderly to her temple, his dark eyes warm and fond as he'd smiled in her direction even if he couldn't see her, his arm draped over her shoulders. She should have been put off by the proximity, by such a blatant show of physical intimacy, but instead of looking distressed, she’d been relaxed and comfortable where she’d confidently tucked herself up against his side. Try as you might, you hadn’t been able to find any hint of discomfort, any clue that signaled the obvious affection she’d felt was an act, her shoulder angled in a way that made you think she’d wrapped her arm comfortably around his waist, her grin bright and so very real.

This couldn’t be you.

When was the last time you'd looked that happy?

When was the last time you’d let someone hold you close? 

And when was the last time someone had looked at you like… like they might… 

“Did I… love him, Ciro?”

“I believe that… you might have, yes. Him, and this city. That is why I encourage you to stay, for a time at least. See if the memories return to you. Even should you leave, it would be wise to know of the life you led here.”

Ciro had sent a check to your office, booking you for the month and clearing your schedule. Just like that, you were free to focus on looking for something that might trigger the return of your memories. Though what that something might be, you weren’t really sure. A more thorough examination of the apartment had been your first step. Unfortunately, there’d been nothing there that seemed familiar beyond the same cheap decor and calculated set pieces you’d always used. You’d quickly ruled those out. They were meaningless distractions meant to reinforce the lie of whatever pre-planned identity you’d taken on. In this case, that identity was Jane Hind—practical, professional, detached, likes sailboat paintings and the color grey. Based on the fine layer of dust you'd found coating everything but the kitchen counter and a neat stack of mail, no one else had spent much time here during your months away. That, at least, fit your pattern. You weren’t in the habit of making friends or putting down roots. There was no point in doing so when you’d just wind up cutting them loose and running again. 

What had unsettled you far more were the hints of connection you’d found quietly tucked away:

A fleecy stuffed bear holding a plush crystal ball, the threads connecting the two uneven as if hand-stitched. That kind of time and effort wouldn’t have been spent on anyone but a friend, and the bear’s prominent position on the counter lent it far more importance than any of the other decorations.

A tacky ‘Handsome Devil’ coffee mug, the curling red script and clichéd devil horns design bizarrely out of place amongst the rest of the plain white mugs in the cupboard. An identity like Jane Hind wouldn’t have been caught dead drinking from it, which meant someone else was here with enough regularity to have a mug of their own. Further digging revealed a second decorated mug, this one adorned with the name of the law firm co-run by Matt. You could have written off one mug, but two? Two was a pattern.

An entire drawer in the dresser devoted solely to a pile of dangerously soft shirts that clearly didn’t belong to Jane Hind, the fabric threadbare and worn. They looked about the right size to be Matt’s, though, the faint traces of scent a match for him. The fact that they took up an entire drawer indicated he’d visited often enough to need a space for his clothes. 

You’d… made space for him in your false life. That wasn’t something you did.

Or had you been the one wearing them? 

Maybe…?

You’d spent a long moment holding one of the shirts in your hand, rubbing at the fabric in hopes of stirring something. When that hadn’t worked, you’d even brought it up to your nose to inhale slowly, just in case the traces of scent brought some memory back. 

Clean soap. Salt. Copper. Faint cinnamon. 

All it had done was remind you of holding a grieving Matt in his kitchen after he’d realized your memories weren’t coming back. It was a gloomy enough memory, but ultimately unhelpful.

You'd tossed the old shirt on top of the dresser and moved on. 

While you didn’t know who exactly you’d been here in New York, the longer you searched, the more it became clear what had happened. You’d started to slip, your years of isolation forming a crack in your layers of armor. That fracture had allowed an attachment to form, an insidious connection worming its way in through the open gap like poisonous roots through crumbling pavement. You’d grown weak, and careless. There was no other explanation for why you’d broken so many of your rules, dominoes tipping one by one until it cascaded into a waterfall of mistakes. You’d slipped before, of course—loneliness was natural and expected, which was why you had so many contingencies—but you’d never let yourself get in this deep. Not until now. 

What you didn’t know was… 

Why?

Why here? 

Why these people? 

And why the fuck hadn’t you followed your rules and run? 

If there was an answer to be found in Jane Hind’s apartment, you couldn’t seem to find it, no matter how hard you look, no matter how many of her belongings you dug through. Even your memory box had failed you, the photo of you and Matt at the back of your stack of pictures an outlier you couldn’t explain, this fruit of an as-yet unidentified poisonous tree. You had no real leads, no faint ringing of memory to guide you beyond a vague sense that, somehow, this started with Matt. You didn’t even know where to begin. 

At least, not until some shaggy-haired guy named Foggy—what the fuck kind of nickname was that?—showed up entirely and rudely unannounced at your front door, dressed in a cheap suit and wearing a bizarrely determined look. Despite your doubts, you reluctantly allowed him in. He made it pretty clear he knew you, and if you were lucky he could tell you more about your life here.

“So I know you usually skedaddle when things get uncomfortable, which I imagine they are at the moment. How long are you trying to stay?” 

“One month.” You shrugged casually, a cover for just how warily you were watching him as he paced in your—in Jane Hind’s living area. He knew far more about you than you knew about him, a reversal you were uncomfortably aware of. That vulnerability was almost enough to trigger a retreat beneath that cold, brittle shell you’d used long ago, though you quickly caught hold of that instinct and buried it back down deep where it belonged. Still, you couldn’t quite hide the cool clip to your voice, your walls firmly in place. “Leaving after that. Don’t see the point in staying if the memories are gone. Truthfully I’m not sure why I stayed in the first place, especially once it was clear I was getting attached. No offense.” 

“None taken, my hopefully-still-friend-when-your-memories-come-back.” He abruptly swiveled on his feet to face you, squinting at you thoughtfully. “How badly do you want your memories back?” 

You thought of out-of-place mugs and hand-stitched psychic teddy bears; of faint cinnamon and a worn photo frame; of the way you’d held a broken Matt in his kitchen until he’d carefully pushed you away and asked you to leave, his face closed off and distant despite the tears on his cheeks and yours. 

You’d… been someone here. Someone cared for. Someone whose loss was mourned.  

Even if you left, you needed to know just who that someone had been, if only so you could make sure this never happened again. Not until you reached your island in the sun. 

“Badly enough to stay for the month,” you said quietly. 

“Then put some shoes on. We’re going on a memory hunt.”

Over the next few weeks, Foggy took you all over Hell’s Kitchen. 

You visited Jane Hind’s office, abandoned warehouses, and empty rooftops covered in thick blankets of snow. He reintroduced you to Karen, to your upstairs neighbors, and to a bartender who didn’t seem all that inclined to be introduced to anyone. You drank crappy beer and slightly less crappy vodka, played pool, and went to the zoo to stare for far too long at penguins, which Foggy refused to explain no matter how much you pressed. He had you focus on sights, on smells, on sounds that might trigger a memory. He joked with you in between, and he was just funny enough, friendly and clever enough, that for the first week or so, you were consistently cracking a smile. Hell, you even laughed now and then, much to your surprise. He really did know you, enough so that you gradually began to relax around him, just a little. He was likely hoping the addition of a friend’s voice would bring back what you’d lost, especially when paired with all the other sensations. 

But no matter how much you both tried, your memories remained lost. 

God, you hadn’t thought this would… would hurt as much as it did. Yet with every day that you failed to find your way back to who you’d been, the more that fierce ache, that old longing inside you grew. Your smiles became brittle, your laughter fading, until both finally dried up like withered, crumbling leaves beneath a bitter frost. You couldn't help pulling away really, not when your soul curling up in the dark might protect you from the agony of knowing that maybe, just maybe, you’d finally found what you'd always wanted. How fitting that it had been ripped away from your bloodied, desperate hands like so many times before, one more square for the filthy patchwork quilt of shredded lives and possibilities you’d been forced to leave behind. What was worse: even your memories of that seeming joy had been stolen, too, leaving you with nothing left to carry but the tattered scraps of a ghost and the photograph of a stranger wearing your skin.

It shouldn’t have been possible to miss what you couldn’t remember. Yet here you were missing it all the same. 

It didn’t help that Matt was avoiding you in every way that mattered. You’d thought about calling him if only to ask him questions about your life here, but you could never quite work up the courage to do it. He must have felt the same since he hadn’t reached out to you, either. And why would he? He knew as well as you did that your memories likely weren’t coming back. It made sense to cut that connection, tear it away like a weed before the roots could do more damage—something you should have done sooner, for both your sakes. What you hadn’t expected was just how good he was at dodging you, somehow absent no matter how many places Foggy took you to, places he swore Matt frequented with you when you’d lived here, as if Matt’s mere presence might be enough to trigger some memory in you. Had he been that important? Either way, it didn’t matter. You hadn’t seen Matt once since you’d walked out, doing your best to ignore his hitched breath as you’d opened the door. You’d forced yourself to ignore, too, the broken, agonized sound of grief that he’d let out as you quietly shut the door behind you, leaving him alone. 

Leaving him like that shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. You didn’t know him. This man should have been nothing more than a stranger on the street, one you wouldn’t glance twice at, much less feel some ridiculous sense of attachment or obligation to. Yet the memory of walking out of his apartment still left you shaken whenever you allowed yourself to think too long on it. 

He… shouldn’t have been alone. That was wrong, somehow. 

There was no memory attached to the thought, no blinking sign you could point to that would justify your growing unease. You just knew it. You knew it in the way you knew how to breathe, how to blink, knowledge etched into your very bones over and over by an unfamiliar hand. And no matter what you did, no matter where you went, you were unable to escape the feeling that… that you’d made a terrible mistake, broken something good, tilted the world on its axis until the whole of the city, the earth, the very sky hung just a little crooked like an off-center painting. 

Matt was alone. 

You’d left him alone. 

It was the right choice, one you’d made dozens if not hundreds of times before. Hell, it should have been even easier this time since there were no memories to hold you back.

So… why did you feel so very sick? 

Sympathy. 

That was all you were feeling. Matt was grieving a woman he’d cared about, one who’d died and left a cold stranger in her place. It was normal to feel for someone in that much pain, and no one should be alone while grieving. Maybe this was for the best. The sooner you were fully out of his life, the sooner all his friends and family could step in, and the sooner he could move on. He wouldn’t be alone, then. And even if he was, his loneliness wasn’t your goddamn problem. You had more than enough troubles of your own.

Protect yourself. 

Protect what you might one day have. 

All else was irrelevant.

You just… hoped he was doing alright. 

He did his best to avoid you, but that only grew more difficult once your ghost began to haunt his every step.

Even Josie’s quickly became off-limits—something he discovered one night when he stepped through the front door where he was promptly met with the familiar, comforting scent of you floating like a haze beneath the smell of cheap beer and sour sweat. His body went rigid the moment he recognized it, your presence across the room a sharpened knife that only widened the wound carved into him by your death. And if the scent of you was a knife, then your bark of laughter was a cruel twist of the blade, one that left him gutted and shaking there in the doorway. He drank in his apartment after that, waiting for that blessed moment when he would feel nothing, waiting for the very second the glorious shroud of night fell. Only then could he finally escape to the streets and drown himself in a far better kind of pain, taking his rage and his grief out on whatever piece of shit had the misfortune of falling into the Devil’s path. 

But Foggy seemed determined to shove the specter of you directly into his face. 

“You need to talk to her!” Foggy snapped, his voice only just shy of a shout. Matt ignored him as he headed for his office, desperate to retreat from your scent lingering on Foggy’s clothes. Foggy had taken you to a coffee shop that morning, one you’d frequented when you’d lived here, and now each inhalation was a vicious torment. It felt like breathing in shards of glass, the sharp pain of it throbbing with every stuttered, choked breath he drew in. If Foggy noticed, he didn’t seem to care. “Christ, Matt! You love her and we both know it. If you talk to her, it might trigger something—”

“Stop,” Matt grit out, reaching up to scrub his hand angrily over his face. He stalked his way over to his desk, still desperate to escape somehow, even if it was into his work. “Just stop, Foggy. I did talk to her, and you know what happened? Nothing. She didn’t remember anything at all. She’s gone, and you dragging this out is just making everything worse for all of us.” 

“So what, you’re just gonna roll over?” Foggy scoffed, crossing his arms as he planted his feet in Matt’s doorway. “Are you sure you actually loved her? Because I’m pretty sure she loved y—”

Matt slammed his fist down on his desk, the furious crack of it echoing through the office like a gunshot as he shouted, “Don’t you fucking dare!” 

Tension hung thick in the air as Matt’s chest heaved, his teeth bared, blood and adrenaline running hot in his veins as if Foggy were some sort of-of threat. Everything in him shook with rage, or maybe unshed grief, the burden of them both impossibly twisted and tangled beneath the sea of his guilt and his self-loathing until he couldn’t tell which was which. He just couldn’t—how was he supposed to force it all down when Foggy had just come so close, so dangerously close to shattering what few pieces remained of Matt’s crumbling armor?

It was bad enough loving you the way he did only for you to slip through his bloodied, desperate grasp like whispering grains of sand. What was worse, this entire disaster was one of his own making, a series of mistakes whose snarled, winding paths led inevitably back to him just like they had so many times before in his life. This loss of someone who’d truly understood him, accepted him, cared for him had already broken something inside him he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to repair. But that fracturing inside him would surely rise up to consume him if Foggy were right, if you’d truly cared for him that deeply before your memories were taken, so deeply that you might even have…

I miss you, sweetheart.

…loved him the way he loved you. 

Abruptly Matt’s surge of rage drained away and his head fell, leaving him feeling all the more empty and broken. He braced his arms weakly against his desk, drawing in a shaky breath as he forced himself to confess, his voice gone hoarse and ragged with grief. “I loved her, Foggy.” He lifted one shaking hand to his face. “God, I loved her so, so much. I can’t… I don’t know what to do without her now that she’s gone.” “I know, Matt,” Foggy said gently. “I know.” “I loved how she always smelled a little like coffee, and the way she always managed to wind up climbing into the oddest places for a case. She had one of the foulest mouths I’ve ever heard, but I swear she could use it to talk her way out of almost anything or to bring someone up out of whatever dark hole they were trapped in. She was… far kinder than she’d ever admit.” His lips quirked, but there was no humor in it, the expression miserable and gutted. You’d have likely argued with him about how kind you were if you’d been here. But there was no chance of that now, no matter how much the scent of you on the air told him otherwise. “Some days it felt like she was the only thing holding me together, like the only time I could breathe was when she held me in her arms. She was always there when I fell apart, or when it all… when it all started to hurt too much. And I tried to give her whatever pieces of me the Kitchen hadn’t already taken, to be there for her like she was for me, to keep her safe. We were finally going to make our relationship official when she came back, her and me, even if there’d… already been something there for a while now if I’m honest.” 

And it had, it had been there, this soft, tender thing that had developed slowly but surely between the two of you, a tangling that came by degrees rather than all at once. It had sprouted, grown, and blossomed so gradually that even now he struggled to point to any one moment where it had truly begun—the night he found you in the warehouse, maybe, or that first game of Devil Hunt, or when you’d both almost taken the leap before he’d realized you were drunk. But the question of where it began didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it was there, something nameless yet still so good and warm and perfect, a connection nurtured in the low light and the blood-soaked soil of the Kitchen. You’d felt it just like he had, and you’d been willing to take that chance with him despite the baggage he carried behind him like an anchor destined to drag him down. You never would have agreed to kiss him when you came back otherwise. Now that chance was gone. 

“How much did she know before she left?” Foggy asked quietly, leaning against the doorframe. 

”She knew that I-that I wanted to be with her, but I never told her that I loved her.” Matt blew out a slow, heavy breath. “I was too scared of chasing her away, I guess. I thought maybe when she came back, if she still wanted me, I would… I decided that I would tell her. But I waited too long. Now she’s gone and I’ll never be able to tell her. All because of me.” 

He finally lifted his head, tipping it at Foggy. Neither of them dared mention the wetness on Matt’s cheeks. Even speaking about this—about how much he’d loved you only for him to ruin it—was almost more than he could bear, the edges of the wound still fresh and raw. Then again, maybe he deserved that pain after how miserably he’d failed you, just like everyone else in his life. “I miss her. And what’s worse is even when she’s right there in front of me, she’s not. She’s not, Foggy. Because I-I fucked up. I’m the reason the woman I knew, the woman I loved, died. I’m the reason she’ll never remember what we had, why I’ll never hold her again, and why she’ll leave New York at the end of the month like she does whenever she’s afraid of forming a connection.” He let out a bitter laugh, waving towards the windows, towards the place you’d once held dear. “I couldn’t even keep her here before. She almost ran last summer and the only thing that stopped her was being kidnapped. That was what slowed her down long enough for our thread to turn red, not me. She won’t let that happen a second time, not now that she’s seen what happens to people I care about. Do you understand?” 

The door to Nelson and Murdock creaked open, Karen’s voice making its way in first. Her voice was followed only a moment later by another’s, one still so familiar. 

“—I mean, winding up in a pool while chasing a kid sounds about right for me, so even if I don’t remember, I won’t argue—”

“I had to keep you here somehow.” Foggy’s voice remained quiet, but there was no disguising the ferocity in it now, the fervent belief. “Get out of your own head and talk to her, Matt. Fight for her. She would want you to.” 

No. 

No, no, no.

Your body may have been here, whole and real, but the woman who’d known him wasn’t. The song of your voice, your sweet scent, the flames of heat and stirred air currents around you flaring into a familiar shape: all of it was nothing but a lie, a snare for his senses, a ghost of his own making, and he wasn’t about to be caught by it again. 

He darted back around his desk, shoving his way past Foggy on the way toward the front door, his heart racing. If he was quick, if he just put up enough of a front, he could get out before they trapped you here with him like they’d planned. He wouldn’t relive this grief again, he couldn’t, not without falling apart. The moment he’d had with you in his apartment had been enough agony for one lifetime. 

“Hey, Matt.” You cleared your throat, shifting awkwardly on your feet where you’d stopped by the front door. Your stance was cautious and guarded, almost wary of him. It was just one more reminder of how uncomfortable he made you now. “Are you—”

“Heading out,” he said stiffly, only belatedly remembering to trace one hand along the wall as if his heightened senses hadn’t given him a clear map of the room the moment his adrenaline spiked. That spike was a curse all its own. It made the scent of you so much stronger, the lie of it fresh and present as it twined around him. His chest hitched just once before he forced himself to breathe his mouth. But that route of escape had been cut off, too. All it did was shift his focus to the taste of you on the air, and the taste of familiar fabric once so tenderly given. 

You were wearing one of his shirts. 

He fumbled for his cane, his hands starting to shake before he finally found it where he’d left it against the wall. He couldn’t let you see him like this. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t remember him, nor was it your fault that he’d lost you. He’d done enough damage without adding a layer of guilt to what you were dealing with, too. But despite his attempts to hide what he was feeling, his face a hard mask, your fingers still brushed gently against his arm a moment later. It was an offer of help, or maybe an attempt to reach out, to slow him down, to connect. It was a kindness, a sympathy he didn’t deserve. Even now, you read him far too well, this touch the same as it had been that first night he’d met you when you’d gently brushed your hand against his arm. “Hey, do you need… I could walk you home.”

He shied away from your touch, finally managing to roughly unsnap his cane before going for the door. “I’m fine. I just—I have things to take care of. Excuse me.”  

He went straight home and showered, but no matter how many times he scrubbed, he couldn’t seem to wash the ghost of your scent away.

You slowly wandered around Matt’s office, taking it in. This was another place you’d supposedly frequented, a place that should have been familiar, and one you'd avoided until now.

Even though Foggy had assured you it was alright, it felt… almost wrong to explore a stranger’s space like this without them present. But you couldn’t help but brush your fingers across the battered desk and the small labels in braille you couldn’t read, run your hands along the chair for clients that you might have sat in once, and trace curiously the small seashell next to Matt’s laptop. The base scents of Matt were stronger here where he spent so much time, only partly erased by the smell of coffee and paper. The room was clean, cared for, and well-organized despite how rundown the office was. Important to him. You could tell that much, even if the scents and sights had failed to spark any memories.

Maybe… knowing his space wasn’t enough. 

This was about more than just figuring out who you were, now. For some reason, you needed to know who Matt was, too: this man Jane Hind had cared so much about and who’d cared so much about her. You told yourself it was practical. Matt was your best bet when it came to remembering who you’d been. But some part of you deep down recognized the lie. No, there was something in you inescapably drawn to him, a pull you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe that strange, unnatural gravity was what had started this whole mess in the first place. What was it about him that was so different, that had driven you to break every last rule you’d lived your life by for over a decade? 

And why… did you spend so long wondering if he’d ever climbed out his office window?

It had been twenty-nine days, and not a single memory had returned. 

Oh, there were beats now and then when you thought that maybe, just maybe something was coming back, but those moments were painfully few and far between. Even in those moments, you couldn’t say remembered anything, exactly. It was more a frustrating sense of deja vu, a fleeting little itch at the back of your mind like you’d forgotten something important, flashing road markers to warn you of the dark, empty gaps in your memory. That sense was probably driven at least in part by Foggy’s growing desperation as he frantically hunted for something that might trigger a return of your memories. 

But the rest of that feeling… the rest was all you. 

There was no denying a traitorous part of you wanted to remember no matter how ill-advised it might be. You wanted to remember this bizarre little family you’d stumbled into and then lost, just like in Los Angeles. You wanted to remember the love you’d had for this place, this city, this taste of mutual affection that had grown up around you after going so long without. After endless ages and ages of drought, of starvation, you hungered for even these bare crumbs of connection, something to tide you over until you found safe haven on the distant horizon. What a tempting thought it was to slither back into the life of this woman who’d been so cruelly murdered and replaced by a stranger wearing her skin.

Was this what a demon felt like when it took over a body? To walk around with someone else’s face, to speak with the unnatural voice of the dead, tormenting the loved ones that remained? 

That, ultimately, was why it didn’t matter what you wanted. Your presence in this city only spread rot and suffering. It would be better for everyone involved if you left like you should have long before now. Then they could all grieve without you tainting the very soil around them. 

Especially Matt. 

You’d seen him once or twice in passing as your time in New York wound down. Even at a distance, you’d marked the growing circles under his eyes, dark enough to be visible despite the glasses he always wore. The rest of him wasn’t doing much better. It seemed like every time he crossed your path, there was another bruise, another cut across his face or knuckles, a shifting canvas of pain painted across skin grown pale and drawn. He didn’t just look tired—that wasn’t what this was. This was something far worse, a haggard exhaustion, a weariness that couldn’t be solved with sleep, if he slept at all. This was someone being haunted. 

Probably because the ghost of Jane Hind kept crossing his path. But that would be solved soon enough. 

You’d already packed up your things, not that you had much to take. Just your bag and your memory box. You’d be leaving the next day. Foggy was still convinced he had a few more days, but you had other plans. You couldn’t give Matt back the woman he’d lost, nor could you give him a body to bury, a grave to lay flowers across, but you could give him what Jane Hind had carried with her until her dying breath. 

“I thought you might… want these before I left tomorrow,” you said quietly. “I… sorry, it’s… it’s a bag with my—with her things.” 

Matt took it carefully from you, the motion mechanical and stiff. He hadn’t really invited you the rest of the way into his apartment, the two of you now stalled out in the hallway just beyond the closed front door. He hadn’t taken his glasses off, either. It made it harder to read him, his face closed off and impassive, a wall of red glass placed firmly between you. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen his eyes even once since that day you’d first come back, and you didn’t blame him. You didn’t like feeling vulnerable, either, though that was just a guess when it came to what he might be feeling. 

“It’s the shirts from her apartment, which I think are yours. And the stuffed bear.” You bit your lip and released it slowly, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. “And the… the mug, which Nelson said was yours, too. The one you used at her place. I also put the hoodie in there, the one she had with her while she was traveling. And…” You reached into your pocket, fumbling for a moment. God, you were bad at this, unsure of just how to do this without hurting him any more than was absolutely necessary. It wasn’t a concern you usually dealt with since your goal was almost always the exact opposite, a precaution meant to destroy any threads of connection they held with you. Unfortunately, he wasn’t giving you much to work with, though you didn’t miss his subtle flinch when you drew the key from your pocket. “I thought you might want this, too.”

You cautiously edged forward, daring to breach the ring of radiant heat that surrounded him, the closest you’d come to him in almost a month. He went stiff as you approached, his jaw growing tight as the gap between you both closed. Another step, and his head cocked as if he were listening to your footsteps, or maybe… maybe he was just waiting to find out what you had to give him. But he wasn’t telling you to fuck off or just set your gift aside, which was a good sign. So you hesitantly reached out and brushed your fingers lightly against his bicep, a signal so he knew you were about to pass him something. 

A breath.

He remained absolutely still amidst the sudden, crackling tension in the air as your fingertips skated gently down and around his forearm, stirring all the little hairs, his skin shockingly warm. All you’d intended to do to take his arm and guide it up so you could place the key in his hand, but you quickly found yourself distracted by a ragged scar along the back of his forearm, one your fingers seemingly made their way to on instinct. It was a deep scar, the original cut likely made by some sort of blade, the edges of it rough and uneven from messy stitching. Your curiosity got the better of you, so much so that you missed the way Matt had begun to hold his breath.

“Who fucked up the sutures on that?” You furrowed your brow, your thumb smoothly marking out the jagged line of it. “They did a terrible job. No offense.” 

Matt’s face fell and you only realized too late just who it was that must have patched him up. 

Before you could blink, he’d yanked his arm out of your grip as if your touch had burned him. “Don’t,” he grit out, his chest heaving as he put a few steps distance between you both. “You can—just put your key on the bench.” 

“How did you know—” “Because there’s only one thing left it could be.” 

You nodded weakly, taking a few steps back towards the little bench beside the door. That unfamiliar ache, that sense of wrongness was back, the weight of it settling uneasily in your chest like a stone until you almost wanted to retch. It didn’t help that Matt was just barely holding himself together while you were here. 

Best to say what you’d come to say and leave him be. 

You gently set the key down, and the quiet click of the brass against the wood seemed to echo in the hallway, a graveyard bell tolling with a looming sense of finality. What you were about to tell him would hurt, you knew it would, but maybe one day he’d find comfort in it. This—a sign of what she’d felt—was the real gift you’d truly come to give, the only true token of her you could offer. Your words, when you spoke, were almost as hoarse as his. “I thought you should know I… she wore it. The key. I asked them. She wore your key and she never took it off. Not once. Whatever you both had, she treasured it, and all she wanted was to get back to you. She didn’t leave you by choice, Matt. I hope that… that helps.” 

Of all the things you’d said and done, it was this that finally seemed to break him. His face twisted in a sudden wave of grief, and regret hit you all at once. You quickly took a step towards him, one hand out, though you weren’t sure what you’d do if he reached back—it wasn’t like you knew how to comfort him, and you sure as hell didn’t know if he’d tolerate you holding him again, nor whether he was someone that needed some sort of touch when he was hurting. But before you could take another step he’d flinched away from you, retreating quickly back into the darkness of his apartment, his voice ragged. “Just go. Get out.” 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, backing away towards the door. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”  

It shouldn’t have hurt as you closed that door one last time. But you cried all the same. 

Somewhere within the apartment came the sound of splintering furniture and a hoarse scream wracked with grief.

“Look, Nelson.” You tiredly adjusted the strap of your duffle bag over your shoulder, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of your nose as if it would stem your growing headache. “I know it’s a day early. But another twenty-four hours isn’t going to make a fucking difference.” 

“I don’t need another day!” he pleaded, his arms spread wide where he’d blocked your front door, ensuring you couldn’t leave your apartment until you’d heard him out. You’d had no idea he even had a key until today and, not for the first time, you cursed Jane Hind’s apparent lack of common sense. You did not give out keys, or at least, you hadn’t before coming here to this ridiculous fucking city. “Just five minutes. That’s all. I’ve got one last thing to try.”

“Maybe I don’t want to try one more thing!” you snapped bitterly, dropping your hand. That anger was a good cover for the way something sharp and prickly had begun to catch in your throat, the incident with Matt still fresh in your mind. “I’ve tried for a month, and it’s gotten me nothing. Fucking-fucking bars and random rooftops and a shitty little duck, goddamn penguins and keys, and none of it did shit! Jane’s gone, ok? She’s dead. And I’m sorry, I know you all cared about her, but I’m done—”

“Have you climbed inside a thread?” 

“...What?” you asked in sudden bewilderment, your rage abruptly faltering in the face of pure confusion. “What the fuck does that even me—”

He let out a whoop, practically dancing on his feet. “Yes! I knew it! I can’t believe no one told you!” 

“Told me what?!” You chucked your bag back onto your couch in sudden exasperation. If this was thread-related, at the very least you could stay long enough to listen. “There’s nothing to climb!”

“Ok, so stick with me.” He rubbed his palms together eagerly, a bright light in his eyes. “Because I’m about to get really metaphysical.”

It took you what felt like hours to climb inside the shimmering honey-colored thread that lay between you and Matt—a thread that sang with his sorrow and your reluctant sympathy. 

It wasn’t right having your soul constricted like this, all of who you were narrowing down into something so small as you squirmed through a barrier that tasted and felt like dirt and earth, chasing after the sound of trickling water. There wasn’t supposed to be anything on the other side. It was an emotional connection, nothing more.

And yet here you were, standing in a place that had no reason to exist.

“Holy shit,” you whispered in amazement, spinning on your heels to examine your surroundings. “Holy shit, he was right.”

Despite the late hour, the air was full of a muted light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, tinting the world a hazy, eerie green. High up above you roiled thick, sullen black storm clouds, silent flashes of red lightning carving their way between swirls of charred smoke. It wasn’t much light, but it was enough to see by.

And what you saw was heartbreaking. 

You stood in a dry, stony riverbed. The ground beneath you was cracked and brittle where the water had receded, leaving behind nothing but dust and broken branches. The river itself remained though just barely, the thin trickle of flowing water down the center of the riverbed a far cry from whatever immense force had carved its way through the landscape until the banks were a good ten paces from one side to the other. The terrain beyond the river didn’t look much better, wilted, drooping cattails dotted up the bank before giving way to endless forest that stretched farther than your eye could see. Like the cattails and scrub, the pine and fir trees stood withered and brown, casting their empty branches up toward the sky. 

If it had been beautiful here once, whatever had happened to you had destroyed that beauty. 

“Jesus,” you whispered. 

“Can you hear me?” Foggy’s voice sounded distant and far away, tinny like he was talking through a long tunnel. 

“Yeah. Can you hear me?”

“...Ok, if you’re trying to respond, I can’t hear you. But according to Matt, whenever you were here, it felt like memories. So poke around, see what you can find.”

You sighed and started down the riverbed. “Not super helpful, but ok. Let’s give it a shot.” 

The water was the most obvious place to start, and you made your way over to the thin stream that ran raggedly across the parched soil. Much to your fascination, you quickly discovered that what you’d thought was one current was actually two, one layered over the top of the other, each flowing in the opposite direction. The first of those currents hiding on the bottom was fairly calm, steady if a little restless, swirls of pale color that almost felt like curiosity, though how you understood that translation was a mystery. The second current seemed far rougher where it roiled atop the first, its section of the stream cloudy and thick with swirls of black and the red of an open wound. You hovered over the second current for a long moment, working up your courage, before you finally knelt and hesitantly brushed against it with one finger. It was just water. How bad could it be? 

The moment your skin made contact, your chest seized on a sudden swell of agony. Your mouth filled with the taste of grief, with the sound of an empty home, the lack of some familiar scent that meant affection and warmth and softness and safety, the ache of an old wound reopened just when it had started to heal. Alone, always alone, I deserve it, so many gone, he was right, when will I learn? There was no hope for comfort from that pain, no escape from the darkness into tender arms that could hold you just right when it all hurt. All you had to look forward to was more— 

You threw yourself backward, scrambling away from that terrible current as if what you’d felt might rise up and chase after you, snapping its teeth the whole way. You didn’t stop retreating until your back slammed against the dry soil of the riverbank. Only then did you stop, panting, your eyes wide in shock as you cradled your hand against your heaving chest. 

Emotion. It’s emotion.

That was what the water was. Matt’s emotion. Which meant the other current—one now shifting back to yellow despite a momentary surge of twisting, roiling black—was… yours. 

Right. So you could rule the water out. But if that was emotion, where was memory? 

Examining the rest of the river was the most obvious next step now that you’d ruled out the water. Based on what you could see, the original riverbed had been a mix of silt and stones of varying sizes, a firm foundation beneath a once-powerful river. Now, though, the grey, dried-out silt was covered in a strange sea of divots and dips, as if something—a lot of somethings—had been plucked up and removed. You traced one of the indents in the soil curiously, lifting your hand back up to consider the grit as you rubbed it between your fingers. Another glance around revealed the answer. 

The stones. 

There were still plenty of stones remaining in the riverbed, but the divots in the dry silt told you there’d once been far more. If that was what you’d lost, then maybe…  

You rocked up eagerly to your feet, pacing around breathlessly as you searched for a promising stone to start with. Eventually you made your pick, plucking up a stone just small enough to fit in your palm, flat and smooth save for a little groove in it as if someone had run their fingers over it endlessly. Strangely, it smelled like honey and herbs, the surface oddly warm against your hand like the brush of a thumb against your mouth. You waited for a long, impatient moment, and when nothing else happened, you tapped it a few times. 

Still nothing. 

And something inside you… cracked. 

“Fuck!” you screamed, hurling the stone back down the river in a sudden rage. The pain and the loneliness you’d been suppressing for the last month, the last year, the horrible, endless eternity since leaving your family in Los Angeles began to claw its way up your throat, the clouds churning wildly above you in response. A wild rain came next, each droplet sharp and cold and edged like the blade of a knife, bitter and biting as it beat against your skin. You grabbed another stone, one that tasted like shitty beer—Josie’s beer. You threw that rock, too, then another and another, throwing stones that smelled and tasted and felt like your shriek of laughter as he grinned and caught you against his chest, like torn flesh and a needle held by tender hands, like your face nuzzling fearlessly against Matt’s throat as he whispered comfort into your hair and held you close, like synced breathing and hearts and dances between binary stars as you both fell into sleep, fell into safety, fell into one another, phantom sensations that only made the fierce ache in you grow stronger because with every stone you snatched up it became clear that… 

You’d been loved. 

Not your identity.

Not the image you showed to the world. 

Not the walls you’d put up in front of him before he’d found some way past them. 

You. 

And he’d loved you with every part of him. 

You weren’t sure when you started crying, a violent, vicious stream of tears that was just as much a product of rage as grief. Here was someone who’d loved you fully, loved you despite every asterisk and bit of baggage and sharpened edge that came with being a broken hound, with being a former experiment still on the run. But you barely noticed your tears, spitting up at the unforgiving clouds and the howling wind, because you could howl, too, just as violent, just as much a threat as any storm in this place. “I want my fucking life back! I want him back!” 

You hadn’t wanted it before, or maybe you had and you’d just been too afraid to ask for it. But now? Oh, oh, now you were furious, furious and hurting and screaming, because you’d denied yourself connection all these years only to find it in the last place you’d expected. That was what this had been—home, family, love. That had to be why you’d stayed in New York, why you’d risked everything for these people, for Matt. You weren’t an idiot. You’d have run the numbers and the math, made your calculations.

You couldn’t bear to lose this. Not… not again. 

You threw stone after stone, hunting frantically as your fingers bled dry, desperate fury into the air, reddened drops disappearing before they ever hit the ground. The trickle of water in the center of the riverbed had churned itself into a frenzy, but you ignored it. There had to be something here that would trigger a memory, something that would let you remember being loved again, something big enough, important enough, so you grabbed and you grabbed and grabbed and grabbed and grabbed until at last, you found a stone the size of your fist. You snatched it up with a ragged sob, cradling it greedily against your chest as if doing so might let you carry it out of here, because you wanted it, you wanted him, wanted to remember more than anything in the world. 

“Let me have it!” you snarled, snapping your teeth at the howling winds of the storm as if you might catch this place between your jaws and tear it open until you at last found what belonged to you. “Give it back!” 

And with a blink—

He tore one of his bloodied gloves off, his hand shaking as he reached out to you.

You stilled the moment his fingertips brushed tenderly against your cheek, so very gentle, affection layered over blood and earth and hurt. And god, your skin was so terribly dry and cold, the beat of your heart uneven as it struggled to pump blood through your body, but he could feel you react to him, the barest parting of your lips as you dragged in a startled breath. He didn’t want to startle you further or risk you fighting him, so he let his voice drop into a whisper, soft as the brush of a feather.

“It’s me. I’m here.”

‘I heard you,’ he tried to say. ‘I heard you. I’m here.’

And your weakened heart… skipped.

He wasn’t sure if he reached for you or if you reached for him. All he knew was it was the sign he’d been looking for. In a heartbeat, he scooped you up off the floor, stealing you back from that dry, filthy cement and crusted blood that had tried to take you from him. He cradled your cold body against his chest, then, held you there where it was warm and where you were safe. You made the softest little noise, the sound choked and dry, but there was no disguising the heartbreaking relief in it. He pulled you in further, pulled you up until you were curled up in his lap, not an ounce of air left between your bodies, your head laying against his shoulder.

He would never let you touch the floor of this place again.

“D…” you mumbled, not one hint of fear in you despite what he’d just done, the blood on his hands and the burning heat of violence that still lingered in his bones. You wearily slid your head over, inch by inch, until you’d buried your face against the sweat-slick line of his throat, nuzzling in against him with a hoarse sigh that only made him hold you tighter. You inhaled slowly then, heedless of the blood and dirt and sweat that coated his skin, your fingers coming up to hook weakly in the collar of his shirt. “You came.”

And you… smiled.

He buried his face against your hair and let out a shaky breath. As he did, he dug down past blood and dust and dirt, dug and dug until he found the sweet, familiar scent of you, a scent he never wanted to leave him again.

The stone fell from your limp hands, a ringing in your ears you could barely hear beneath the sound of the water nearby, frothing and wild. 

The increased sensory feedback had been bizarre, and there was… there was no reason he should have been covered in so much blood, his body burning as if he’d been fighting before coming to you. But…  

“Hey, you in there?” Foggy called. 

“D.” The letter felt strange, and yet… natural, as you cradled it on your tongue. “D?”

And you knew what came after that letter, shaping the word again in your mind. 

You knew. 

You… remembered. 

“Always,” he’d said. 

“Always,” you whispered, casting your eyes up the riverbed towards another large stone. “Always, D.”

He didn’t know what you were doing or why you’d climbed inside the thread. 

“Always, D.”

All he knew was that it hurt. 

“You’re stuck with me, unfortunately for you.”

He’d thought catching your scent, hearing your laugh, being forced to take back the key he’d given to you had been the worst of it. But no. It was far, far worse having to relive these memories of your time with him over and over and over without pause, his senses filled with you: with your touch, with your scent, with the taste of you on the air. He heard you whisper, laugh, and sigh; felt the brush of your fingers in his hair and your body shaking with laughter when he snatched you up during a game of Devil Hunt and the safety of you as you’d held him so tenderly after his fight with Foggy. All of it was a reminder of what he’d lost, what he’d never get back. 

“Don’t you give up on me, Matt. Ok?”

He was in agony. There was no blocking you out like this, no escaping your memory no matter how much he tried to push back or retreat, until he wound up trapped and spiraling in his kitchen. 

“Kiss me when you come back.”

On and on it went, memories snapping at his heels until all he had left to hide behind was rage. He swept his arm across the counter, glass shattering as he screamed himself hoarse. Eventually he found himself backed up against the wall, sinking down as he hitched out something like an agonized groan, his hands over his ears, his eyes shut tight. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, please—”

“Adoringly yours, because I do adore you, you ridiculous man...”

“Leave me alone,” he whispered. “Just leave me alone.”

“...Remember that. if nothing else.” 

In hindsight, it was a really bad idea to give back your key.

“Matt!” you shouted, pounding frantically on his front door. “Matt, let me in! It’s me, I swear, I can-I can—”

Silence. 

And you weren’t willing to wait any longer. This wasn’t something you could explain through the door, out here in the hall where the neighbors could hear. You needed to get inside. You knew he was in there somewhere. 

Red threads never lied.  

You wiped the blood away from your nose and took off for the stairs. It was only one flight up to the roof, and sometimes he left the rooftop door unlocked. Even if it wasn’t unlocked, you’d use the key under the mat. You didn’t remember everything. But you remembered that. And if the key wasn’t there? You’d break that fucking door down.

He sat unmoving in his meditation pose on the floor, the sound of your attempts to get into the apartment distant and far away. Meditation had been the only thing left he could think of that would allow him to escape the pain and the memories of you that had flooded his thoughts. Like this, with his mind and his focus withdrawn until it lay deep within himself, he’d hoped he’d be far enough away from the world that the ghost of you couldn’t reach. 

Yet even deep in meditation, his instincts were set off by the crack! of his rooftop door slamming open.

He was on his feet in a heartbeat, his heart racing as he bared his teeth, his body prepared to face whatever threat had just broken in. The sensations of you, at the very least, had quieted during his meditation, which should have left him enough space for some small margin of peace as he threw himself into a fight. But that peace was nowhere to be found, because you were here again. 

He recoiled from that thought the second it crossed his mind. This wasn’t you, that much had become painfully clear. You’d passed away somewhere far beyond his reach, away from the home, the life you’d lived here. The woman that stood on his landing now was nothing but a ghost, a fading memory and a terrible reminder of what he’d had and lost, what he’d earned by daring to reach for something good. There was no undoing it, no washing away the blood on his hands. If anything, how he felt for you had doomed any hopes of you staying long enough for him to reform that connection with you. He knew how you operated—hell, you’d tried to run on that hot summer night so many months ago after seeing just how much he’d cared, even if you’d ultimately changed your mind. At the time, he’d thought it was Destiny, the hand of God ensuring you remained in the Kitchen where Matt could keep you safe from the Man in the White Coat, here in this place where you both might… might shape something good out of all the broken pieces you’d both been left with. He knew better, now. Even the hand of God couldn’t break the curse Matt placed on those he loved. You would leave, leave like all the others, and he deserved it. 

The only question that remained was why you seemed so, so fucking determined to make him suffer. 

“Matt.” Your voice cracked as you stumbled down the stairs. “Matt, I—”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone, sweetheart?” he grit out, reaching up to fist his hands tightly in his hair. He’d never known you to be unnecessarily cruel, but there was no other explanation. “God, I-I can’t—you can’t keep doing this to me.”

“Matt, just let me—”

“Do you even care how much you’re hurting me?” He hitched out a broken laugh, something bitter and tormented, the sound absent all humor as you made it down the stairs. “All those months, all I wanted was for you to come back. I begged. I prayed to God, over and over again, that he would bring you back to me. And now that you’re gone, you just won’t leave. I can’t get away from you no matter what I do. Do you know what that’s like? To lose someone you love only for their ghost to haunt you every time you turn around?”

A soft intake of breath. 

There it was. Now that he’d said it, you’d leave. There would be nothing more frightening to the You he’d first known than a word like love. 

“I just…” His breath hitched again, something thick building in his throat. It was just another sign of his weakness, the same weakness that had gotten you killed. 

‘I warned you, kid,’ came Stick’s voice, so smug that Matt bared his teeth. ‘I fuckin’ warned you the night I opened up her eye. But you didn’t listen.’

He started to pace wildly, ignoring your voice as he hunted for some opening through which he could escape, flee from Stick’s voice hiding in the corners of his thoughts, from your ghost. With every step his movements grew more frantic, more furious as his rage built like a rising wave: rage at himself, at God, at the monster who’d taken your memories and the possibility of a life for you here with Matt, and at you, too, because you just didn’t get it. “I just want to grieve, and God can’t even give me that much, can he? Is that what this is? Punishment? Revenge? Congratulations. Job well done. You can go.” 

You tilted your head as you watched him pace, the same cock of your head you got when considering your potential routes forward. As far as he was concerned, the only route he’d give was a route out the door.  

“I don’t know why you came back, and at this point, I don’t fucking care,” he told you hotly, nothing but burning smoke and thick venom in each word. “We don’t have a red thread anymore. There’s nothing to keep you here. Leave. Now. I’m not asking.”

Your soft response was a single letter, one that struck directly at the open wound inside his chest. 

“...D.” 

He snatched up an empty beer bottle from the kitchen counter in a sudden rage, turned, and hurled it past you. 

You didn’t so much as flinch as the bottle came within inches of your head. Nor did you react to the distant shattering of glass, the sound of it barely audible over his anguished roar. 

“Leave me alone!”  

And then he froze in sudden horror at what he’d done, his heartbeat almost drowning out the soft sound of your steps. All he’d wanted to do was scare you away, frighten you away so he could break where you couldn’t see, because it had hurt, it had hurt to hear you call him—

Wait. 

You’d… you’d called him…

“My Devil Man, my Saint Matthew,” you whispered, the touch of your hands cool and endlessly gentle as you cupped his face. His skin was wet, damp beneath your thumbs as you swiped them across his cheeks, when had he started crying? You brought his head down until you could lay your forehead against his, the taste of salt hanging in the air. Your voice grew achingly tender, so longed for that he swayed helplessly on his feet, wanting nothing more than to be held like you’d held him so often before when he was hurting. “I’m so sorry, D. I’m so sorry I left you alone, sweetheart.” 

He closed his eyes tight, his breath growing shaky. You couldn’t know that he was two steps away from crumbling in your arms, fractures widening with every breath. He had no energy left to fight your touch, your misplaced mercy, but giving into the lie was another thing entirely. He couldn’t bear to hope again, not when it would crush him if he were wrong. “Foggy told you to… he told you to call me that, didn’t he? To see if you’d remember. But I can’t—you’re going to leave me, you’ll—” “Do you remember what I said before I left? Because I do.” You swiped your thumb gently against his cheek, your uneven breathing skipping and falling into rhythm with his as his hands shakily rose. They hovered hesitantly a few inches away from your face, terrified that you might vanish beneath his hands like a ghost. “I don’t leave my box behind, and I won’t leave you behind, either. I told you that you were stuck with me after Nobu. I meant it. It’s really me. I know you’re tired and hurting, sweetheart, but listen to my heart. What does it say? Truth or lie?”

…Steady. 

Truth.

Could it really be you?  

He held his breath as he dared at last to touch your cheek, stirring the fine hairs as he stroked his way along the familiar shape of your face, one he’d traced so often in his dreams. Your skin was damp with tears just like his, another sliding down to bump against his thumb as your lips quirked up into a brilliant smile. And the moment his trembling fingers passed your lips, you kissed the tip of each with a warm fondness, a mirror of that night you’d held his broken, torn body and he’d kissed your fingers and palm. 

“How much do you… do you remember?” There was a ringing in his ears as the world beneath him seemed to roll beneath him. “Everything?” “Not everything. Some pieces are still missing, with Foggy and Karen and my job, but I-I remember enough. I remember you, and what I had with you.” Your voice grew fierce and fervent then as you drew in a sharp breath, preparing yourself. “I remember you, D. And I remember that I love you. I love you, Matt Murdock, all of you, so, so much. And I will never leave you alone again.” You loved him. 

You loved him. 

The weight of it—being forced to let you leave the city, the ensuing months alone, the agony of the past few weeks thinking he’d lost you entirely, and now this, this, knowing you loved him like he loved you—hit him all at once, and with a sudden groan he started to drop. You caught him in your arms, the two of you sinking to your knees as you held him tight and he wound desperately around you in return. Only then did he start to fall apart in your arms, shaking in your hold, his grief, his hurt, his relief spilling out in choked gasps where you’d tucked his head down against your neck. He fisted his hands in your shirt as you both rocked, and a ragged moan tore free from him, spilling against your skin when you lifted your hands to trail your fingers lovingly through his hair. You knew, you remembered just how to hold him when he was hurting, a balm across every last wound. His shivering, touch-starved body remembered your touch, too, drowning beneath the sudden surge of good, warm, safe, soft after months of nothing but pain, so much so he couldn’t help but gasp out your name. 

“I’ve got you now, D,” you whispered, burying your face against his shoulder until he could feel the heat of your tears against his shirt, too. “I’m here, now. You’re not alone. I’ve got you, Matt.” 

“I thought you were gone.” There was no way for him to truly sync his breathing with yours, not with the way you were both crying, but still his body tried on instinct, tried and failed over and over again. He closed his eyes tighter, burying his face deeper against your throat as he pulled you in even closer, until there wasn’t an inch of space between your body and his, where he could feel every beat of your heart against his skin, as if to make up for the way he’d almost… almost chased you away. “I thought you’d left me and I was alone. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder, and that I didn’t-I didn’t go with you, but I couldn’t—I’m so, so—” 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” You kissed shakily at his hair, his shoulder, and whatever other parts of him you could reach, your breath, your tears, your absolution washing over him like rain. “It’s not your fault, D. It’s not your fault sweetheart. None of this was your fault.” 

“But—” “Hey. Listen to me, before you get any further down in that hole.” You lifted his head from your shoulder, cupping his tear-stained face in your hands again. For a moment you both simply breathed with one another, your forehead to his, soaking in the contact, the affection that you’d both dearly missed and needed. “What happened to me outside New York, my memory loss… all of that is not your fault. It never was, D. There are-there are a lot of things we’ll have to deal with in the future, things I need to tell you. Consequences of what we’ve done, and—but this isn’t one of them. Never this. You’re what helped bring me back.” “How? I didn’t…” He let out a breathless, watery little laugh. “I didn’t do anything but try to chase you away.” “Some part of me couldn’t help but be drawn to you. I remembered, deep down, I think.” You gave an amused little huff. “And once Foggy showed me how to get into our thread, all your memories are what brought me back, helped me remember, because I could feel it, how you loved me. That was the key. Speaking of which…” You leaned in to nuzzle up against his cheek, your voice lowering to a whisper. “I think I made you a promise, you ridiculous man. And it’s one I intend to keep.” 

And with one small tip of your head, and a single slow breath… 

“Kiss me when you come back.” 

…your lips brushed against his for the very first time, tender and achingly soft, and so full of love that it would have stolen his breath away if he’d had any left at all. 

It wasn’t the first kiss he’d envisioned months ago just before you left, something triumphant and wild. Nor was it anything like the first kisses he’d imagined before that, the first kiss he’d thought this journey with you might lead to. And God only knew he’d considered kissing you for the first time more than was healthy.

Your first kiss with him was, instead, shaky and gentle, tasting of salt and tears and the fading shades of grief retreating like streamers of night before a welcome sunrise. Slowly, and then more surely, his lips began to move against yours, finally allowing himself to truly taste you for the first time, his eyes slowly falling closed as your fingers ran fondly through his hair, you, it was really you, you remembered. With a quiet moan, he breathed you in deep, calling your grace, your love deep into him until it settled there against his heart, knowing that, no matter what else might come, he would never lose it again, one of his hands rising to tenderly wind around your throat, his other hand finding yours so he could lace his battered fingers tightly with yours.

It wasn’t the first kiss he’d expected, but it felt perfect all the same. 

Because all that was left was him… 

And you. 

[valentine-writes]

hii!! i was wondering if you could write headcanons for like the main four spider-kids (miles, gwen, pavitr and hobie) with a reader who like smacks people when they laugh really hard? preferably w/ a reader thats a spider-person but its up to you! :3

aggressive affection!

「 tws + notes: no tws, unedited, dude used once in a gender neutral way, mentions of bruising and minor injuries (but nothing crazy), spider-person reader, reader forgetting that being a spider-person makes them stronger,,, um. (°ー°〃) oops!!! 」

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

↳ ft. gwen stacy, hobie brown/spider-punk, miles morales, and pavitr prabhakar

author's note: YES I CAN YES I CAN!! this prompt iz so funny AUWWUDH I HOPE I DID IT JUSTICE!!! つ﹏⊂ also super excited 2 get to write more of them becuz AWUDGWAAHWGHWAGUAGH I LOVE THESE CHARACTERZ SMM,,, also excuse me if there's more repetition or typos than usual,,, im eepy ( つ᷄ ‸･ )

GWEN STACY headcanons

▸ the first one to fall victim to your little habit. she doesn't mind in the slightest, mainly because she's generally pretty welcome to friendly touches- even if it is slightly more aggressive than she had expected. frankly, you could've literally bitten her and she probably would've reacted the same.

she's a little awkward about it at first, pausing mid laughter as you deliver playful hits to her shoulder and bicep. she playfully shoves you away at first, like, "haha– what– what are you doing–" but quickly warms up to it

▸ here's the thing though. she 100% will do it back. if you're both joking around and losing it over something, you end up hitting each other through laughter. and it'll INTENSIFY. at some points, everyone's wondering if you two are actually beefing or not ur not. itz the way u show affection 2 one another,,, in the strangest manner

when you're assigned on missions with her, you usually end up chatting– and then you find something hilarious to giggle abt and everything goes off the rails

y'all will return to HQ bruised asf like "nah man the anomaly didn't even touch us."

jessica and miguel DEF pick up the fact y'all goof off and beat each other up before even locating the anomaly HWJEJNDNE

unfortunately– gwen is slowly paired less with you on missions becuz of this. they can't have you distracting one another a girl can never have fun fr </3

nothing that some good behaviour can't fix! just try not to give each other a complete smackdown while on duty and you'll be paired together again in no time! hopefully...

▸ both you and gwen forget that being spider-people involves super strength. and though you're both used to taking a blow or two, it stands plain and obvious that the two of you can get carried away. gwen especially. she's just a little rough sometimes– not like she means to be.

sometimes, the dull ache from the bruises she left leave you wondering if you're both a little too funny for your own good. at least she makes sure to take care of it and hold back,, when she can.

when it's your turn to get carried away, she sees your eyes widen as you splutter a million apologies to her. but every time you deliver one hit too hard, she insists it never hurts much as you think.

"dude, it's okay. you can chill out." gwen reassures. "besides, i'm built tougher than that."

she flashes a grin at you, and it's almost convincing. like she didn't even feel a thing. you know better though– gwen definitely has days where she's more sore than she'd like to be because of you. not like she'd ever admit. she likes the random play fights between the two of you.

though, you will admit that the amount of trips to the infirmary in search of ice packs is getting just the teeniest bit absurd. people are starting to ask questions at HQ-- which is fine. the frozen bag of peas gwen offers to you for your injuries works just as good as any ice pack ...it's been sitting in the bottom of her freezer for God Knows How Long but you don't need to know that

HOBIE BROWN headcanons:

▸ you see how this guy interacts with people???

hobie's used to friendly touches, and initiates physical contact without overthinking it. that little shoulder shake he does w/ miles makes me smile everytime i heart hobie. ALSO AAUWHEHWH LEBRON AND DWAYNE'S HANDSHAKE BEING HOBIE'S AND PAV'S?? I ADORE.

you really think something as little as a few friendly punches and hits bothers hobie "forehead-kissing-the-homies-goodnight" brown??? /lh + /hj but man platonic physical affection hobie. like. hear me on this one.

▸ he's 100% cool with it– actually initiated it before you did. nothing crazy, a light smack on your back or arm as he laughed with

eventually, while joking around with you, realized you had the same habit

you end up hitting each other quite a bit– but he's not as accidentally aggressive as gwen is. laughing with hobie won't get you hospitalized, he's cognizant enough with his strength to know how much to hold back.

▸ then again, there are times where you get carried away. hobie's quick to shake it off, not feeling the effect of the hit until later– if you notice and apologize, he'll just shake his head and shrug

"nah, nah– it's fine." he insists, chuckling a bit as he rubs the spot where you smacked him. "there's been worse."

and yes, objectively, you know that's true– but you both fight villains in your everyday life. of course there's going to be worse than just a hit too hard. he won't accept an ice pack– but will joke that you could just kiss it better instead

that earns a groan from you, smacking him again in the arm for good measure as he snickers

MILES MORALES headcanons:

▸ doesn't hate it!! not against it!!! find it surprising at first. he didn't expect a playful punch to his arm in response to his little joke, but watching as you giggled uncontrollably, hitting him lightly– he decided that he didn't mind too much

he knows you don't mean any harm, so it's cool with him! he's rolling with the punches literally every time you two are losing it

▸ if you land a smack on him that ends up being a little too hard, he'll definitely try to play it off awkwardly, rubbing it and nervously laughing when you ask if he's okay

"oh sh–" you promptly stop, your smile fading as concern floods your face. he winced slightly at your last hit and it was much to obvious to ignore. "you good, miles? i am so sorry–"

"me? yeah, yeah– it's cool!" he replies dismissively, giving you the lightest punch back. miles laughs nervously at your completely unconvinced expression.

"bro. cmon. be real."

"that? hah– nahh. barely felt it." spoilers!!! he felt it

you keep it in mind to dial it back a bit when with miles, because he barely hits back and hates admitting when it actually hurts.

you'll get an occasional "ow–" with a little chuckle, but he refuses to acknowledge that you might be a bit too rough. he jus doesn't wanna hurt feelings man :(

you're his friend who gets a little too carried away sometimes– and that's fine!!! besides, he can't let gwen and hobie have all the fun.

"you holding back on me?" he asks you, noticing your hits have gotten weaker.

"what's it to you?"

"i can handle it. 's fine!! really!" miles says. there's a beat of silence as you stare at him incredulously.

"and you didn't bruise last time?." you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"yeah."

"...say swear."

miles raises his hands, sighing. "ok, look–" HE WANTZ 2 ROUGHHOUSE W/ HIS FRIEND TOO OK (*ﾉε｀*) besides. u and gwen and hobie seem to have so much fun w/ it,,

▸ because of his stubbornness, you oblige, pulling your punches just a little less when having a little laughing fit with him.

as a result, miles develops a habit deflecting your hits while absolutely losing it. gently shoving your hands away as you smack him, both of you doubling over laughter

miles will say sumn he knows you'll find a lil too funny and just,,, *cue continuous hitting and blocking as he predicts literally Every Movement you make* he's literally learned to parry becuz of u HAJWBDKDNEN

PAVITR PRABHAKAR headcanons:

▸ the type to pretend to beat up his friends while making punching noises when he's bored

he's just lightly tapping u with his knuckles going "pow– pow pow– bam–" under his breath HANWJENDN IM SORRY I FIND THIS FUNNY. i also. do this. (｡･･｡).

and ur like "...uh. ok."

he's def not opposed to it!! when he has the energy, he's all for it!!! pavitr's playfully hitting, shoving you away, gasping for air as the two of you giggle over something that's only really funny to the two of you.

he's pretty energetic most of the time, and it manifests as you "brawl" with each other as you laugh over some stupid joke.

▸ when you hit him a little too hard, most of the time, he doesn't even notice until the aftermath manifests as a bruise or two on his arms– but even then he doesn't care.

however,,, there are occasions where he initiates it, laughing and smacking you– and when you're laughing with him, raising your hand to hit back, he'll gasp dramatically, recoil instantly and get all dramatic about it i'm projecting all the things i do onto pav i bet u cant tell /sarc

pav the minute you decide to try and get him back– bar for bar, word for word:

he's just a little guy,, a little guyy,,, nooo,,, itz also his birthday,, he's a little birthday boy– HWJWBDN SORRY THIS IS SO UNSERIOUS

this is a bit that he drags on FOREVERRR like itz the funniest thing in the world

▸ ALL of his hits are a little too hard. he does the fake beat up thing a lot but when you two are roughhousing, you're the one reminding him to chill out through stifled laughs

he'll immediately soften the blows quickly at your request, knowing it's probably best for you to remain as uninjured as possible when not doing mission. can't have your shit rocked before you even face a villain!!! his hits end up somewhere between hobie's and gwen's– an almost perfect middle (*´꒳`*)

almost.

occasionally, he'll literally just... take the hits. not like miles where he's deflecting. he's jus standing there laughing while you smack him. which is a concerning sight for anyone who isn't used to your antics!!!

this happened in hq once and peter b, who happened to be walking by, lowkey thought you were straight up attacking pav

upon hearing the two of you giggling though, he figured that he wasn't witnessing an act of violence and didn't have to step in

[mazeinthemiroh]

Heyy there! I just love your ateez reactions so much and I saw that requests were open, so here is mine, I hope that's ok.

So, I've seen this concept a bit with other groups but I never found an ateez one, when they give the reader gf privileges, like the reader kiss them on the cheek and they don't have a problem with that (looking at you, hongjoong) and other things like that they don't let the others members do at all. I just imagine the others being so dramatic about it too lol.

ateez giving their s/o partner privileges

genre: crack, fluff, everything in between

word count: 1.7k

warnings: cursing, wooyoung acting like... wooyoung, sanho bromance, idk its all very chaotic ok??

a/n: there is a LOT of wooyoung in this like he's in most of them because idk he's an icon and i felt like he fit the criteria for most of these so that's that. tysm for your request, this is such a cute and fun idea i love it! sorry it took like 10,000 years for me to do 🧑‍🦯

hongjoong

wooyoung had his hands on his hips when he found hongjoong cuddled up with you on the sofa. legs folded over yours, arms wrapped around you tightly; he had never seen his leader show this much physical affection before. it was a weird sight to see.

"what do you want," hongjoong peered over your head, which currently lay on his chest, to see wooyoung still watching you both.

"oh," wooyoung said bluntly, "i see how it is."

"what are you on about," hongjoong rolled his eyes.

"i can't even poke your cheek without you squeaming away, but then they are all over you," wooyoung gestures to the cuddling session taking place, his tone exasperated.

hongjoong rolled his eyes and grinned slightly.

"yeah well, they're just better than you," hongjoong stated before placing his chin atop your head as you snuggled down further into his arms.

"why are you acting all jealous, you weirdo" hongjoong added as wooyoung continued to glare.

"disgusting behaviour," wooyoung fake gagged at the two of you being cute together. he'd have to get used to this side of hongjoong because you couldn't help but bring it out of him.

seonghwa

seonghwa had a thing about his hair. in the sense that... he didn't want anyone touching it.

stylists can, sure. but when his members came close to it seonghwa would throw hands. they would always mess it up, especially woosan, who were both rough with him in general and liked pulling on his hair to tease him.

but you're his partner. who was he to deny you of such a pleasure? playing with his hair brought you great joy.

so you sat on the couch, his head in your lap and eyes fluttered closed as he was telling you about his day in his usual calm, low voice. your hands folded through his hair, fingers lacing in between the fibres.

"oh i see how it is" wooyoung and san collectively joined the room to ruin the peaceful atmosphere, "you let them touch your hair but not us?"

you just grinned as you watched your boyfriend's eyes roll dramatically at his friends.

"go away" he mumbled, closing his eyes once more.

before you could stop them, the pair came over and messed up his hair quickly and not-so-gently, making him gasp and sit upright.

"little shits" seonghwa snarled as they ran away chuckling to themselves.

"you love them really," you said with a smile, pulling his head back down gently to your lap as he closed his eyes once more.

yunho

you had many benefits from dating yunho. he was handsome, kind, hilarious... you loved everything about him. but a privilege you have with him is helping him pick out his clothes.

"maybe try this colour tie instead," you handed him a burgundy tie, which seemed to please him.

hongjoong leaned against the door frame, watching yunho slide the tie around his collared neck.

"is this why you don't ask me for fashion advice anymore?" hongjoong pursed his lips as you smirked and winked over at him.

"that," yunho had elegantly twisted his fingers and folded his tie expertly quick, "and the fact that you have a very radical style. too noisy for me, i like things simple."

hongjoong shrugged a bit, "why be boring when you can be bold?"

"why where black when you can wear yellow?" yunho remarked back, grinning at you in the mirror as you stifled a laugh.

"fine, i get it" hongjoong pushed himself off the door frame, "have fun dressing your doll, y/n."

"oh i will~" you hummed, slipping your hands over the shoulders of his suit once he turned around to face you, a small grin still on his lips.

"perfect."

yeosang

"oh look it's mister 'don't touch me'" jongho mused as he came in to find yeosang spread out on the sofa with you hanging onto him like a koala.

"oh hello," yeosang vaguely looked over in his friend's direction "what's your name again?"

"oh you think you're so funny," jongho shook his head as yeosang snuggled into you gently. "i was gonna watch the football game in here."

"go ahead" you piped up, your voice sounding muffled because your face was buried in yeosang's neck. the vibrations of your voice tickled his neck, making him giggle. yeah, you guys weren't going to move anytime soon.

jongho's blank expression didn't change; public displays of affection were not his thing.

"nah forget it," jongho said, "i'll leave you lovebirds in peace."

"good, bye-bye" yeosang yawned and you hit him lightly for being rude, giving him a little glare

"i mean 'nooo, stay with us'" yeosang was so unserious he literally can't go 2 seconds without being sarcastic.

jongho shook his head "i couldn't possibly think of anything worse. having fun!" and he walked out with no other words said.

san

san is quite handsy with everyone he is close to so there's not much he wouldn't do to his members than he does to you.

but he would just concentrate his affection on you a lot more. you'd get all the kisses and cuddles you'll ever need to last you the rest of the year!

and the members noticed this.

"no goodnight kiss?" yunho would ask san in a teasing voice.

"not for you," san grinned sleepily, making his way towards his room, where you were waiting for him.

"wow, you've changed" yunho hummed before going back to his video game. of course, he didn't care, he just wanted to get under san's skin.

and he did. san pouted slightly, feeling guilty that he hadn't shown his friend much affection recently.

"you're just jealous because you don't have a partner" san would say, folding his arms over his chest.

when yunho didn't reply san rushed to him and placed a kiss on his cheek "goodnight" he grumbled and yunho grimaced in disgust, leaning away.

"ewww save that for your partner, lover-boy" yunho grimaced in disgust, leaning away from his affectionate roommate, who looked at him in defeat.

mingi

"stop biting me, wooyoung"

this was the third time mingi had scolded the younger member. yes, wooyoung had the tendency to bite the other members. this did not come as a surprise to you at all. in fact, you found it hilarious.

"you let y/n do it," wooyoung said matter-of-factly as your face flushed. mingi rubbed the back of his head and chuckled shyly.

"yeah, don't think i don't notice the love bites you come home like every other day," wooyoung raised and eyebrow and shrugged. mingi did in fact have one of these love bites laying perfectly on the skin of his neck as he spoke.

"well, that's different, we're dating" mingi protested after his initial embarrassment about being exposed, "you bite me because you... hell, i don't even know why you bite me."

"it's my way of saying i love you" wooyoung gave mingi big wide eyes while you giggled at this, wrapping an arm around your boyfriend.

"i don't care why you do it, and that's gross" mingi's face screwed up into disgust. you hid your face in the crook of his neck as you hid the laughter into his skin.

"why are you in his neck, y/n? wanna bite him again?" wooyoung interrogated as you raised a leg to kick him.

"find someone else to bite, this one's mine" you finally decided to fight back, giving as much attitude as wooyoung was coming out with.

"i don't why anyone has to be me at all, really..." mingi stared at the ceiling, wondering what he had done to deserve this affectionate abuse.

wooyoung

wooyoung was another affectionate member. in fact, he was so affectionate that he broke the physical boundaries the members found normal, to begin with.

"you're all my partners, in a way" wooyoung would gesture to the entire room as the other members groaned, and you sat up next to him with an amused look on your face. it was always fun to see your boyfriend interact with the others the way he did.

"san is my wife, for instance" wooyoung laughed at himself, earning a punch in the shoulder from san, who shook his head, clearly offended. this was the usual behaviour he had to deal with.

"but i love you the most" wooyoung leaned on your shoulder and fluttered his eyebrows as seonghwa let out a little 'aww', the other members rolling their eyes.

"thank goodness. now we don't have to deal with the snoring anymore," jongho remarked as the boys started laughing. wooyoung glared at the younger member playfully.

"what an honour and a privilege," you said in a non-impressed, monotone voice. wooyoung glided an arm over your shoulder.

"it is, isn't it?" wooyoung beamed while you stared at him with the same blank expression.

"i need more wine."

"i'll have some more too~"

"no, alcohol makes you snore louder!"

jongho

jongho is another member who isn't as affectionate as the rest. but he finds himself being different nowadays, because he is dating you. you've definitely softened him, he usually initiates most of the physical affection between you both!

"look at you two," mingi teased, playfully, grinning at the two as you walked arm in arm. you were currently on a walk with all the other members and they all couldn't help but notice how jongho was so open with his affection for you.

"what are you looking at?" jongho whined at his hyung, but his grip tightened on your arm. you blushed lightly at this warm gesture.

"you guys being desperately in love with each other," mingi teased and jongho stared at him with a blank expression. you laughed at this simple exchange.

the 99' liners kept going 'aww' and taking sneaky photos of you two because their precious maknae has found the one.

"leave them alone, guys" seognhwa scolded, but smiled dreamily at the sight of you two. he couldn't help it, you both looked so cute.

"it's nice to see jongho like this," he remarked to hongjoong, who nodded along with him.

you both looked like an exceptionally perfect couple, and the members couldn't get enough of how adorable it all was.

[naomijoestar]

SWAG okay I was just asking if like. La Squadra with a goth reader but the Stand is like one of those little cute clown dolls???

Kinda like one of these if that makes sense??

Masterlist here <3

I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed writing this, I’ve been wanting to give La Squadra something for so long!

You didn’t specify whether this is platonic or they’re dating so I made it platonic, I hope you don’t mind. 💕

(Stand side nots: it’s small in size but not as small as the sex pistols, stand abilities: cartoon physics type of stuff, you’ll understand what I mean when you read)

La Squadra with a goth intimidating reader who’s stand is a cute clown

(Bucci Gang version)

Risotto Nero

Risotto eyes you from the shadows, his gaze a piercing mix of curiosity and wariness. He’s used to assessing threats at a glance, and your dark, gothic aura suggests you’re someone worth watching. Expecting a deadly stand to match your look, he’s caught off guard when a colorful, plushy clown appears at your side, giving him a cheerful wave. Risotto’s eyebrow twitches in confusion. “That…is your stand?”

You merely nod, unbothered by his judgmental tone, and watch as the clown suddenly pulls out a giant anvil from behind its back. Without a moment’s hesitation, it hoists the heavy object above its head and slams it down toward Risotto. He dodges just in time, but a massive crater forms where he’d been standing. Now, his interest is piqued.

The battle is intense, with Risotto using Metallica to manipulate nearby iron objects, while your stand counters with cartoonish props that make no sense. When Risotto sends sharp metal scalpels flying your way, the clown produces a comically large pair of scissors, snipping each projectile mid-air before any can touch you. He clenches his teeth, frustrated but impressed, realizing your stand’s unpredictability is a dangerous advantage.

As the fight progresses, Risotto attempts to corner you, but your clown keeps pulling off unexpected tricks: an endless rope to trip him up, a cartoonish boxing glove that launches itself from its body to land a powerful blow, and even a giant magnet that affects his own stand. Despite his usual stoicism, you catch a slight twitch of a smile at the edge of his mouth, a rare acknowledgment of respect.

Formaggio

The moment Formaggio sees your stand, he bursts into laughter. “A clown? For you?” he teases, clearly amused by the contrast. He underestimates both you and the clown, finding the sight of it bouncing around in its colorful, knitted outfit hilarious. “Oh, this is too rich! What’s it gonna do? Tell me a joke?”

But as he’s busy laughing, the clown’s wide grin turns mischievous. With a snap of its fingers, it pulls out an oversized mousetrap and sets it right near his feet. Just as he takes a step forward, SNAP! Formaggio yelps, his foot caught in the trap as the clown cackles, its high-pitched laughter echoing.

Annoyed, he shrinks himself down, hoping to slip away undetected, but your stand has other plans. Suddenly, a tiny circus tent appears around him, trapping him inside with exaggerated cartoon walls that stretch and contract whenever he tries to push against them. He scrambles around, bumping into props like juggling pins and rubber balls, each one oversized and ridiculous. Every escape attempt is thwarted by the clown stand, which gleefully watches from outside, tapping its nose as if to say ‘Nice try!’

Frustrated, Formaggio finally escapes, only to be greeted by a pie to the face courtesy of your stand. You can’t help but smirk as he stumbles, wiping cream from his eyes. Lesson learned: don’t judge a stand by its appearance.

Illuso

Illuso sneers, confident he can handle whatever your stand throws at him. He’s unimpressed by the clown’s playful antics, crossing his arms with a smug grin. “That thing can’t possibly stand a chance in the Mirror World,” he scoffs. He reaches out, attempting to drag the clown into his dimension. But as he tries, the clown’s face smashes against the mirror like it’s in a slapstick cartoon, flattening with a loud ‘SMACK!’

Irritated, Illuso tries again, but the clown wiggles its finger at him in a mocking gesture. Then, with a flourish, it pulls out a comically large mallet and begins pounding the mirror. Each hit causes cracks to form in the reflective surface, sending Illuso scrambling to repair it from his side.

Realizing he’s losing control of the situation, he attempts to flee, but the clown is relentless, conjuring up ridiculous items: a huge pair of pliers that it uses to tug on his jacket from the real world, a tube of glue that it splatters across the mirror to trap him, and even a giant, inflatable hammer that bounces him around when he tries to escape. By the end, Illuso is fuming, his pride wounded as he’s bested by what he initially thought was a “harmless joke.”

Prosciutto

Prosciutto gives your clown stand a cold, judgmental look. “How ridiculous,” he mutters, activating The Grateful Dead to age it immediately. He expects the clown to crumble like any other target, but instead, the clown’s cheerful expression only morphs into an exaggerated elderly one, complete with a fake beard and comically oversized glasses. It hobbles around, leaning on an imaginary cane, but still manages to wave cheekily at Prosciutto.

Annoyed, he increases the aging effect, but the clown retaliates by pulling out a huge spray bottle labeled “Youth Juice” and spritzing itself. With a little shake, it reverts to its original state, completely unaffected by Prosciutto’s stand. He grits his teeth, realizing this is going to be more complicated than he anticipated.

As the fight goes on, your clown stand begins to toy with him, pulling absurd stunts to dodge his attacks. At one point, it stretches out its arm impossibly long to reach around him, delivering a surprise slap across his cheek. When he lunges at it, the clown conjures up a banana peel, sending him sliding across the floor in a rare moment of humiliation. By the end, Prosciutto’s usual calm demeanor is shattered, replaced with a barely restrained fury as he realizes he’s been made a fool of.

Pesci

Pesci is intimidated by your dark, gothic look, but the clown stand’s cheerful demeanor throws him off balance. He chuckles nervously, finding its antics strangely endearing. He reaches out, almost wanting to pat it, but that’s when the clown’s eyes glint with mischief. Suddenly, it pulls out a gigantic fishing pole, casting the line straight at Pesci’s Beach Boy.

To his horror, it hooks onto Beach Boy and starts reeling it in, dragging him along with it. He panics, trying to regain control, but your clown stand is relentless, pulling out one absurdly oversized object after another: a big rubber chicken that smacks him across the face, a fake tunnel painted on the wall that he crashes into, and even a gigantic fishbowl that it briefly traps Beach Boy inside.

Pesci ends up sprawled on the ground, out of breath and utterly bewildered, realizing that the “cute” clown was anything but harmless.

Melone

Melone’s analytical mind goes into overdrive the moment he sees your stand. He’s immediately intrigued, trying to understand how something so cute could pack such a punch. He releases Baby Face, expecting the creation to take care of the clown stand quickly. But your clown is ready. It pulls out an enormous vacuum cleaner and begins sucking up Baby Face’s cubes as they approach, each one vanishing with a satisfying “pop.”

“Fascinating,” Melone mutters, momentarily captivated. But his awe turns to frustration as the clown pulls out more absurd props: a giant fly swatter to smack down any cubes that regenerate, a massive cartoonish rubber band that it snaps at Baby Face, sending it flying back, and even a bucket of water it throws in Baby Face’s direction, which somehow shorts out its pieces temporarily.

Melone watches in frustrated fascination, torn between admiration and irritation as your clown completely disrupts his plans. His usual calm is nowhere to be found as he finally realizes that no amount of calculation could prepare him for your stand’s chaotic nature.

Ghiaccio

Ghiaccio scoffs the moment he sees your stand, launching into a furious rant about how impractical it is. “A clown? Are you serious? How can you take this fight seriously with something like that?!” he shouts, his icy rage fueling White Album’s powers. He expects you to be intimidated, but your clown merely giggles and pulls out an enormous fan, blowing back his freezing attacks with ease.

As Ghiaccio’s temper flares, the clown pulls out a barrage of comedic props: rubber chickens, cream pies, and a mallet that’s almost as big as he is. Each item hits him with perfect comedic timing, making him look increasingly ridiculous as he stumbles, rants, and struggles to stay upright. His face flushes with frustration as he realizes he’s being outmaneuvered by a “stupid clown.”

His final attempt to attack is thwarted when the clown produces a firecracker, tossing it at his feet with a cheeky wink. The explosion leaves him covered in soot, looking like a classic cartoon character after a mishap. Seething, he roars, “STOP LAUGHING!” as your clown grins back, unfazed.

I hope you enjoyed this! If you’d like anything fixed or anything specific don’t be shy to message me and tell me!

If you liked this make sure to check out my other work, and if you’d like anything specific for any jjba character/squad from parts 1-7 don’t be shy to request it!

[munsonthings86]

forever imprinted

you and steve carve your initials in a tree ₊˚⊹♡

warnings: fluff, soft!steve, 0.5k words

an outtake from this fic

romance took a human form in steve harrington. sure, you were well aware that he was charming and a total dreamboat, but you would've never guessed that he was so open and loud with his affection. everything steve did, he did to woo you, or at the very least, to see that smile that he desperately wanted to tattoo on his mind.

that’s why you were currently sitting in a tree, watching as your boyfriend struggled to climb its length.

"just don't fall, you idiot," you laughed from where you sat, auburn leaves tickling your dangling legs. “me? fall? don’t insult me,” he scoffed, adjusting his feet on a branch that swung gently in the night breeze. steve rested his arm in your lap, patting at his back pockets with the other.

“this is so corny,” you snorted, fingers finding your boyfriends tousled brown hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. he hummed under your touch, finally finding his keychain. “nothing corny about it. gestures like these date back to the caveman era, babe,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, not a hint of irony in his voice.

the folding knife on his keychain finally had some use, he thought, using its sharpness to etch into the bark of the tree. his eyebrows scrunched and so did his nose and lips when the knife proved to not be the best tool for this little art project. this was a lot harder than it looked. “need some help there, caveman?”

steve tried not to laugh but the smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth gave him away. he stole a glance at the smug grin on your face, diverting his eyes back to the sloppy heart he managed to carve, “you’re hilarious.”

you giggled that sweet giggle that you always did and steve swears it’s the cutest sound he’s ever heard. you adore the way his tongue juts out a little when his focus intensifies, carefully marking the tree with the first letter to your oh-so beautiful name. his fingers resting on your thigh rub light circles to your soft skin, humming a tune that, though you don’t recognize, you sway to anyway.

“ta-da!” he whispers, so proud of himself, a smile that’s wide and bright and glittering adorning his features. “do you like it?” he looked at you with big brown, puppy eyes that glimmered in the moonlight. he was so pretty.

steve’s usual penmanship wasn’t the best, and it wasn’t much better here either, but it still managed to look so perfect. both of your initials imprinted into nature, forever. and you hoped that it was just how long you and steve would last. “i love it.”

he smiled, cupping your cheek and running his thumb along your jaw. “i love you, sunshine,” a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “so much,” a kiss to your plump lips that he could never get enough of.

“i love you too, stevie. forever”

“now look who’s being corny this time,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. you roll your eyes, and steve’s lucky that he’s quite literally balancing on a tree branch, or else you would’ve given a shove to his shoulder.

💌 1 new message from jojo: had a dream abt steve last night and couldn’t not write this. sobbing. inbox is open!

[zalrb]

I love how utterly boyish and ravenous his attraction to Cuddy is. He got so excited when he had to search her house in S2 and he spent the day rummaging through her underwear drawer and bouncing on her bed. He outright tells her that he touches himself using her pictures. And Cuddy KNOWS. She's unfazed. His sheer panic when Wilson and Cuddy go on a "date" is hilarious. House makes lewd comments about every woman in the show. But the writers make it clear that the lion's share of House's lust belongs to Cuddy.

Horniness aside, House remembering a castle that used to be on Cuddy's laptop screen and wanting to go there with her as soon as they started dating is swoon-worthy. He's so sentimental inside.

He's so sentimental inside.

Yes! And that's why I'm so preoccupied with his physical attraction to her because obviously, he just finds her really hot but it's fuelled by affection. Because like you said, he makes lewd comments to every woman on the show but when he checks out Cuddy, it's because of this

so it's like this second-nature reaction no matter the situation, he doesn't even have to be himself and say something lewd to her to get under her skin, the point may not BE her attractiveness but he's aware of her presence and how it makes him feel all the time

he's always pining so he's always checking her out

he's always aware of her and how she makes him feel so he'll call attention to her presence

because even if at times it's more passive than acute, it's ever-present on his mind, which is how come we get this

because it's all actually, at its core, sentimental.

His sheer panic when Wilson and Cuddy go on a "date" is hilarious.

That is DEFINITELY one of my favourite Huddy scenes because it's hilarious but his heart is also breaking

he would not be able to handle that and has so much pride in the fact that Cuddy doesn't feel "safe" i.e. that boundaries wouldn't be crossed with him

Horniness aside, House remembering a castle that used to be on Cuddy's laptop screen and wanting to go there with her as soon as they started dating is swoon-worthy.

Or getting her the desk from medical school. Or holding onto her great grandfather's book for years and then going through so much shit trying to get it back just to gift it to her.