#avs please pick him up!

[qhughes43]

justice for tyson 😤

[bi-writes]

the knock at his door is a ferocious one. it rattles the hinges, shakes the doorway. it is not a kind knock. it is the knock of anger, of impending terror, of death at his door, but he knows that if he doesn't answer, he will be even more sorry. (ghoap x curvy!fem!reader, 18+, smidge of dark)

johnny isn't happy. he yanks the door open, glaring, knowing who is on the other side. his superior, his lieutenant, the fucking tart that started this whole thing in the first place, the bastard that stands a few inches too tall, is that what she sees in him, too tall, is that much bigger than me, the fucking--

"dinnae want t'talk to ye, ye fuckin'--"

"'f y'know wot's fuckin' good f'ya, you'll shut y'r fuckin' mouth," ghost snaps. his accent is thick and gravelly. he moves over the threshold, pushing johnny back, his eyes dulling over as he presses an accusing finger against johnny's chest. "y'r gonna pick up the bloody phone, 'n y'r gonna call 'er."

"she's a right--"

ghost hisses, a heady growl coming out roughly as he grips johnny around the throat and slams him against the nearest wall. the entirety of it shakes, and the pictures there nearly fall, and johnny chokes as he tries to scramble, but ghost is too strong, too rough, too overpowering. there is something behind his movements, some purpose, and it makes something acidic bubble in johnny's throat.

"don't you fuckin' dare finish that sentence," ghost snarls. "don't care wot it is y'think y'feel, do y'really wanna have tha' on your conscious, y'fuckin' bastard, yeah? want her t'know tha' is the last thing y'called her?"

johnny sputters. he's gasping for air, but it's hard, and his eyes water. even though johnny hates him, even though he loathes the man he used to admire, he knows ghost is right. his lip trembles. it wouldn't be right to say it, it wouldn't be right to call you anything other than what you are, and that is beautiful, bonnie, the stars in the sky and the water in the soil and the dream he always has but cannot remember but one he knows is all he wants and more.

"ye took 'er from me," johnny gasps. "took her from me, and she's all i've ever wanted..."

"took nothin' from ya. now call 'er," ghost growls. "pick up the phone, and y'call her. she's hysterical. 'n i won't 'av it."

"ye won't 'av it? fuck off with ye!"

ghost tilts his head to the side, using his forearm now and pinning johnny to the wall. they meet eyes, and even though johnny pulls a brave face, he is staring at a man who clawed his way out of his grave. a man that endured days of torture and inexplicable horror, that knew the taste of his own blood from another's. johnny is strong-willed, but this is a battle he will not win.

"won't tell ya again," ghost mutters. "i mean tha'."

johnny's tired. he loathes. he hates. he feels sick. he wants to claw and kill and blow something up, but then ghost is letting him go, he's taking in full breaths, and there's a voice in his ear suddenly, an unfamiliar sound of a beautiful voice that he knows. she's crying.

"johnny? j-johnny, i-is that you?"

"mmmph," he coughs. "mmm..."

even riddled with sadness, you sound as pretty as always.

"johnny, i'm sorry," you whimper. he can picture your face, probably a gorgeous pout, tears gathering along your cheeks that normally are from the brunt of his cock, but now they're the proper response from your panic. "johnny, i'm...i'm so sorry--"

"'s..." he hums. "'s a'right, lovey. shhh. quiet."

"johnny, please--please come home, i-i...i can't stand this, i don't want to...i-i--"

"told ye to quiet," he murmurs. "quiet."

and you do, but he knows there's tears, he knows you're probably still there on the other side, your cries muffled into your hand. you probably still look so beautiful, probably sitting there in one of his jackets and nothing else, perched on the bed he shares with you and looking like an entire meal.

"ye lied to me, bonnie," johnny tuts, and ghost steps closer, into his space. watch it, his eyes say, and johnny glares. "why did ye lie?"

you whine, "i didn't know what to say...i...i just thought--"

"ye thought what?" johnny prods. "ye thought i would nae find out about it all? what did ye think, what the bloody fuckin' hell did ye--"

ghost walks forward, enough that johnny is pressed flat against the wall. ghost leans down, tilting his head, close enough that he feels the warmth of johnny's breath as they stare down each other.

"say y'love 'er, johnny," ghost mumbles in his ear. he comes closer, one thick thigh fitting between johnny's legs. "say it."

johnny swallows. "i love ye, bonnie."

a quiet whine, and then your soft voice, "i-i love you so much, johnny--"

"say y'want her, johnny," ghost encourages him, in that low voice that is starting to make johnny's head a little lighter.

"i miss ye," johnny whispers. "sorry for not having me head on right, love..." he hisses when ghost pinches him. "ahh--i want ye. want yer bonnie face...yer bonnie cunt...got to know it. got to know how much i want ye."

ghost shuts his eyes when he hears your breaths. desperate, a little emotional, that beautiful lilt that drew him in the first time.

"tell 'er ye want to eat 'er, johnny," ghost hums. "tell 'er she tastes like sweets." ghost comes closer, his pelvis against johnny's, and there is no space between them. johnny's blue eyes are bright, pupils dilated, and when ghost opens his eyes, they stare at each other, some kind of understanding that they have never had before.

they've been to the same place. they've seen the same eden. the love of the same woman, the taste of the same forbidden fruit, the kind of thing that men like them dream of having but give up for the sake of their sanity--

"want to eat ye, love..." johnny sighs, and his eyes flutter when ghost reaches up and smooths a gloved hand along his throat. his adam's apple bobs, he is so alive, and ghost tuts lowly as he speaks. "taste so good...think about it all the time...about getting under yer skirt," he sighs deeply when ghost's hand moves lower, against his chest, "cum so nice, bonnie, when ye sit on m'face..."

"j-johnny--" ghost grits his teeth when he hears you. pretty baby girl, probably squeezing your thick thighs together, maybe leaning over to show off your soft hips to no one in particular, tits pressed together because your hand is drifting low and circling against you because he knows you probably aren't wearing any fucking knickers, "anything for you, baby...you know i would, you know i'd do anything..."

"i know, my pretty," johnny coos. "will ye wait for me? will ye wait before ye get ahead of yerself, love? ye will, yer a good girl..."

"y-yes--" you whine. "y-yes, i'll wait for you...please come back...please--"

"should i bring back yer keeper?" johnny asks. blue eyes on dark ones, the look of a thousand words, the look of newness, of acceptance, of the power of two being so much greater than one.

two gloved fingers make their way down his throat. petting johnny's pink tongue, stuffing him full, reminding him of his place, where he truly is, where he belongs and where he is always meant to be. he relaxes his throat, and ghost snarls, satisfied, when johnny takes the girth of it easily. he touches the back of johnny's throat, and ghost's eyes flash when he hears your sweet voice on the other end.

"simon...i know you're there. be nice. or we won't get to play."

[starboye]

pairing: dylan minette x male reader x ross lynch

request: what if yn works behind the scenes at coachella or a show like that where several singers perform, including ross lynch n dylan minnette, who end up fucking him that same day they meet him; before and after their perform. while ross is outside, dylan fucks him, ross comes back all sweaty and fucks yn while dylan sings on stage until he comes back sweaty too and they fuck him together (again)

warnings: smut, daddy kink, double penetration, unprotected sex, slight degrading, overstimulation

Working at Coachella wasn't the easiest job ever but the pay was good and seeing the singers come off the stage all hot and sweaty was definitely an added bonus especially when your two favorite boys Ross and Dylan were preforming there.

"Ross hi I'm a huge fan" you excitedly say as he walks past you before stopping in his tracks "well hey there sweet cheeks" he says holding out his large hand to shake yours and you eagerly shake his "I love your music so much" you say freaking out but keeping it together "how about we yo somewhere a little more quieter so we can talk" he says bringing you to his changing room and ordering everyone else out.

He closes the door behind you "can I get your autograph" you ask "I can give you something better" he says pulling you into a kiss, your inside quickly heating up as you melt into his kiss "yeah that's a lot better" you say hypnotized by him "now how about you get on that couch and bend over" ross orders smacking your ass "yes sir" you lowly say moving over to the couch.

You bend over and ross moves behind you before lowering your pants and underwear down to your knees and unbuttons his pants to let his cock out, you feel the heat radiating of his dick as it glides past your hole, he smears some lube he had hidden in the room on your hole and quickly thrusts in "shit" he huffs at the feeling as you moan.

He holds onto your hips and pounds into you relentlessly "Ross you in here" you hear Dylan knocks at the door before creaking it open "oh what do we ave here" dylan ask walking closer to the sight in front of him "desperate slut here is a big fan of mine so I decided to give him some of what he really wanted, isn't that right slut" he says smacking your ass harshly "yes ross" you whimper "that's mr lynch to you, now do you know who this fine gentleman is" he orders.

"yes mr lynch that's dylan minnette" you moan barely being able to make out his face but still recognizing him "good he's gonna keep you nice and stuffed while I go do my show okay" he says through grunts "really" you eagerly say "look at you already craving his dick" ross chuckles "fuckkk" he groans as he cums in you "use that as some lube" he huffs pulling out and zipping up his pants "will do" dylan says unzipping his pants and sliding into you "don't fuck him out dylan" ross warns sternly.

Dylan waves him away and admires how easily your hole sucks him up with ease "we're gonna fuck you so much" dylan grunts pulling you up, your back now firmly placed against his chest and his hand wrapped around your throat as you moan out "you like this dick" dylan asks "yes sir I love it" you whine with a hiccup "such a slut" he laughs as his hips pick up pace "mr minnette can I cum" you ask "I dont know can you" he smirks "please please" you whine longingly.

With those sweet moans how could he ever deny you with one more thrusts of his hips you both cum, your cum staining the leather couch and his cum now swooshing around in your hole simultaneously as Ross finishes his show and walks in all sweaty "how was it" Ross asks fist bumping Dylan "still so tight even after that fucking" Dylan says surprised "well I guess we'll have to change that" Ross chuckles before Dylan walks out to preform his part of the show.

"how did you like that slut" Ross asks pulling his pants down to let his now hard cock flop out and slide back into you "it was great mr lynch" you moan fucked out "don't pass out on me now baby boy you still have so much more work to do" Ross says pulling you up to his chest "you would wanna disappoint me now would you" he whispers in your ear "no sir" you whimper "good boy" he says thrusting into you roughly before pushing you into the couch and arching your back downwards.

"this pretty little hole was made for me" Ross says watching you turn into putty under his words and actions "thank you sir" you moan "wow your a real slut for this" he scoffs "we're gonna fill you up so much" he says before lifting you up and sitting on the couch and lowering you down onto him while facing the door as he continues to fuck you, you through your head back onto his shoulder and continue to moan "m-mr lynch" "yeah baby" "m'gonna cum" you moan "let it all out then" he growls in your ear making you spray your load all over your chest.

"fuck" you huff closing your eyes "nah keep those eyes open you still got one more task" Ross says as Dylan walks in "wow this room smells like so much sex" he laughs before noticing your hole and body on full display as Ross's dick slides in and out of you with ease "now let Dylan slide in too" Ross grunts out, you try and hide your face out of shame "no no don't be all embarrassed now you love this" Ross spits out pulling your hair back to show your face "please mr minnette I need it" you moan as tears drip down your face.

"don't have to ask me twice" Dylan says pulling his pants down and slowly but surely pushing his way into your stuffed hole but the cum making great lube "damn how is he still so tight" Dylan looks at you in disbelief before pounding into you hard as you blink in and out of consciousness "stay awake for us sugar" Ross huffs lightly slapping your face "yeah just a couple more seconds and we'll fill you up so good" Dylan says.

After a few more thrusts and grunts mixed with weak moans Dylan and Ross full you up with their cum once more before pulling out and watching their good work spill out you, Ross quickly finds a butt plug and stuffs it in you "you just got it all in here huh" Dylan asks "what can I say I've had my fair share of sluts here" he laughs is the last thing you hear before blacking out.

You wake up to find some water and snacks next to you with a note "call us sometime" it reads with their phone numbers on it, you sit up sore and barely remembering all the events that happened but still full.

[januaryembrs]

FIGHT TALK | Eddie Munson x Sunshine!Reader

Request: Hi! Can I request a Drabble with the character Eddie Munson, with the prompt “I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever.”. Imagine that Eddie being protective and acting as a bodyguard to the reader who is being bullied a lot, he feels sorry and guard her.

description: Eddie is not very happy when he finds his darling girlfriend stashed in the AV room after her first fight

word count: 1.1k

trigger warnings: swears, blood, mention of the f slur, broken nose? very quick dirty thought from Eds (it’s Eddie what can I say)

main masterlist

authors note: eddie x sunshine reader is about to be a thing around this neck of the woods since my beloved @palacearcaderadiostation demands more 💗

“He’s gonna fucking kill us,” Dustin held his hat scrunched tightly in his hands, as if he were in church or in mourning. “I never even got to say goodbye to Tews, my mom’s gonna be crushed,”

“Are you shitting me, he’s gonna make us wish we were dead,” Mike rubbed a hand over his tired face, “Do you remember what he did to Tommy H when he shook her soda can and it exploded in her face? My mom said the Hagen’s had to take him to a specialist in Chicago to get his nose fixed.”

Dustin paled even more, as Lucas returned with a sweat on his brow, the older boy hot on his heels.

“Move! Move out of my way- Out of my way,” Eddie cursed, shoving the other students hard enough they shot him dirty looks over their shoulders. Not that he cared, he had a sneer of his own as he looked down at the three boys that seemed to quiver in their place under his sable gaze, “Where is she?”

“Eddie, please understand- We tried to tell her-” Dustin spluttered as Mike seemed to biting the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from doing the same. Eddie simply put his hand in the kids face, glaring at him hard enough to silence him immediately.

The three of them would rather face the Wyvern they’d fought in their last campaign head on than have to deal with their dungeon master like this.

“Where is she, Henderson?” He growled, and the boys could do nothing but point to the AV room they’d stashed her in to keep her from the other student’s nosy gaze. Eddie didn’t need any other instruction, he was at the door in seconds, bursting through into the small, darkened room, his eyes falling on the girl sat on the table, legs swinging back and forth happily as if she wasn’t sporting a black eye and a bloodied nose. His breath hitched, his chest constricting tightly as he watched her own gaze flick to his. “Oh, baby,”

“Eds! Did you see? Did they tell you what I did?” She asked, her lips pulling into a smile as her boyfriend came closer, his hands grabbing the sides of her face, thumbs stroking over her cheeks.

“Mother of Christ, what did those shits do to you?” He snapped angrily, though his eyes were wide, the sadness written clear over them. Waving him off, she held onto his wrists with split knuckles, another factor that had him nearly clutching his pearls in aghast.

“It wasn’t their fault Eds, David Johnson was picking on Dustin for his lisp and calling them all-” She stopped, her nose scrunching in disgust when she thought of the word they’d used.

“Gay?” Eddie asked, to which she shook her head, though his eyes were quick to notice how the movement tugged on her split nose, “The other one?”

“The F one,” She muttered, hating that she even had to say it, “I dunno, I can take it when they say it about me. I just couldn’t stand to hear that about them, they’re good kids,”

He felt his expression soften, watching as she fiddled with her sleeve, another thing that had fallen casualty to her heroics as a thin tear trailed up her arm.

“You are just the bravest maiden there is, huh?” He asked, his chest butterflying when she looked up at him with the same happy smile she always had when he spoke like they were in one of his games, “And oh, your teeth! Those beautiful teeth, are they okay? Did they survive the warfare? Let me see,” Within seconds he had puckered her cheeks with one hand effortlessly, his other thumb lifting her lips up and down as if giving her an oral exam.

Her giggles vibrated on his palm that rested on throat as she tried to pull away from his grip, only partially succeeding as he took his finger out but held her still.

“-ds” She mumbled through her pursed lips, feeling him loosen on her jaw for just a moment before he gave her a gentle peck, careful not to bump her nose. Trying to pull away to tend to her ailments, he was stopped when he felt her fingers loop through his belt, tugging him forward for another longer kiss, her pretty lilac nails brushing against his tummy.

Chuckling as he pulled away, his hand moving from her jaw to cup her cheek sweetly, his eyes seemed to zero in on the cut on the bridge of her nose, the skin around it mottling into a bruise. He couldn’t miss the way it seemed to welt with fresh blood, the sight of it worrying him despite it being no bigger than his nail.

“You are just in luck, brave maiden, your medic has arrived prepared,” She smiled wryly as he dug through his bag until his face lit up as he brushed against the packet, “Ah, ha!”

Pulling out two from his collection, he held the bandaids up to her face so she could see for herself.

“Dangermouse or Ducktales?” He asked, the two brightly coloured cartoons staring back at her as she pointed to the three little ducklings.

“Ducktales, please,” She said, watching him peel the paper from the back, gently sticking it over the bridge of her sore nose, “I bet you do this for all your patients,”

“Only the most valiant of warriors,” He murmured, pecking the tip of her nose with soft eyes, “That’s just because you’re my favourite,”

She giggled again, as he picked up her scraped hand delicately, scanning over the small cuts attentively. Putting his hand to his mouth, he fake retched, covering his eyes in horror.

“Oh God,” He gasped, turning away from the sight, “Oh, god. I think we’re gonna have to amputate,”

Shoving him on his chest, she snickered at his dramatics, her fingers already scabbing over from their minor wounds. “Quit playin’. I was very brave today,”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, baby,” He said, giving her knuckles some tender kisses, not caring it seemed gross seeing as she was bleeding. “Did you get him good at least, honey?”

She perked up even more, eyes alight with a sick little delight he hadn’t seen in her before. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t have his boxers stirring.

“I split his lip, would have gotten his nose too if he hadn’t jumped on me,” She said, and Eddie couldn’t help the raucous laugh that left his throat.

Pressing more kisses to her hairline he smiled, down at her from her place still sat atop the table. “Don’t worry, you’re on the bench in round two, Balboa. I’ll give him something to cry about,” He smirked at her, his nose brushing against hers sweetly, “I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever.”

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[kadwrites]

unspoken | T.S

previous part | next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary; some confrontations cannot be avoided.

warnings; arranged marriage!trope, SLOW burn, tommy has trust issues, angst, typos probably.

a/n ; the next part is so good, i promise.

-

"what?" your eyes snap wide open. your heart starts beating out of your chest, not for the reason it was a moment ago

"i said , what are ya hiding from me?" he repeats, his breath fanning over your neck and ear

you pull away, both of you looking at eachother "what are ya talking about ?"

"stop lying to me" he mutters, his voice is still calm and collected and it makes the hair on your neck stand.

just like it used to do when you first met him.

"tommy" you try to speak but he cuts you off

"ya know who i am" you feel as if he's staring into your mind, reading your thoughts "there is no use lying to me, if ya won't tell me i will find out some other way."

you don't speak back this time, you try, you open your mouth and you shut it again

"i wanted ya to tell me first,"

"whatever you're thinking, it's not that."

"and what am i thinking? hm?" he tilts his head slightly

"i don't know but it's definitely not good." your brows knit together "do ya not trust me?"

"how can i trust you?"

your heart stops beating, it seems. "what?"

"how can i trust you if you're hiding things from me?"

"do ya not 'ave secrets yourself?" you feel as if your mouth is dry and a lump is lodged in your throat "can ya really say that you're completely honest with me?"

"what do ya want to know?" he asks, pulling away slightly too. "when 'ave i ever not told ya something that you've asked me about?"

"do ya think that i'm about to stab ya in the back?"

"are you?" his eyes never leave yours

"why-" why would i do that?, but you realize maybe to him, you had every reason to. or maybe , you should have a reason to "i wouldn't do that."

"then what is it you're hiding?"

you let out a bitter chuckle, your hands rubbing at your eyes. you step away.

"look" you turn to him , "if ya can't trust me to not stab ya in the back then maybe we shouldn't.... we shouldn't do this" you lick your lips, looking away

his hands grab at your jaw, turning your face to him. his touch is gentle, but his eyes make your breath hitch again "you're running away now?"

"no" you try to not let your voice crack "i just don't appreciate this, i don't appreciate ya thinking that i'm not to be trusted"

"what do ya expect me to think?" his voice is soft and low "i've already been betrayed before, i can't let it 'appen again."

"this isn't at all what ya think it is" you repeat "please just..... 'ave some faith in me."

he eyes dart between yours "do ya 'ave faith in me?"

"i do, but this is .... it's about me," you lick your lips again "it's something from my past, and it's something i 'ave to deal with myself."

"is someone trying to hurt ya?"

"no no no" you shake your head, closing your eyes for a moment before opening them again "it's nothing like that"

"mr shelby?" celest's eyes almost bulge out of her face, as her head peeks to see who was knocking at her door

"celest." he nods , taking off his hat. "may i come in?"

"oh , yes yes, please do come in." she stands back, pulling the door to let him come in. she leads him to the living room.

her children ran outside as soon as they saw him, taking rose with them.

"can i get ya anything?" she asks nervously as he sits down, she bends down to pick up the scattered toys "please excuse the mess, sir."

"it's tommy." he corrected her, he motions to the chair in front of the sofa "sit down, celest."

she sits down after putting the toys in the box. her hands clasped in her lap "how can i help ya, tommy?"

"your sister is hiding something from me" he leans back. he takes out his cigarette case, putting one in his mouth and offering one to her.

she takes one and lights it with his lighter before giving it back.

"and i 'ave a feeling ya know what it is?"

she takes a drag of the cigarette , her eyes looking away from him "what did she tell ya?"

"that's it's something from 'er past."

"i don't think.... it's my place to speak about it." she breathes out the smoke, tapping her cigarette against the ashtray "but i know that she's hiding it because she felt it was in the best interest of your... marriage." she mumbled, before taking another drag

"what did ya tell 'er?" he asks casually, crossing his legs

"i told 'er she shouldn't hide anything."

"is someone out to hurt 'er?"

she's not used to him speaking to her, let alone asking her questions such as those

"i don't think so no." she shakes her head, exhaling the smoke "she's worried it might hurt you"

"me?" he's almost amused. "why?"

she huffs a laugh "i don't know"

"well this was enlightening." he says with a small smile towards celest

"did ya expect to rat my sister out to 'er own fiancé ?"

"a little bit , yeah." he nodded

"well, i'm more loyal to 'er than ya thought"

"is she as loyal to me as i think she is?"

she stops talking , the cigarette is still between her fingers. she tilts her head, staring at him "why are ya marrying 'er if ya think so low of 'er?" her voice turns a little more serious, defensive.

"she takes after ya a lot , ya know?" he says with a small breath, "i just wanted to see something is all."

"mr shelby i understand what ya might be worrying about, maybe there are women who would do that to a man like yourself." she says with a calm voice, putting out her cigarette in the ashtray before staring him down "but my sister isn't one of them. she's as loyal as they come. the real question is , are you as loyal as she thinks ya are? are ya as good as she paints ya out to be?"

"she will not know about this, i will not tell 'er a word ya said." she gets up, looking him up and down " 'ave a good day, mr shelby."

-

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[simonrileysfavteacup]

Car Accidents

Paring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x wife!reader

Word count: 600 ish?

Warnings: car accidents, injuries, dad!simon, mom!reader, ambulances

Summary: When your eldest daughter's life is threatened, what will Simon do?

Simon liked James. He treated Emma well. He was polite. He came from a good single mother and he was kind. 

The boy was like him. 

A teenage boy stood at Simon’s door, holding a bouquet of roses in his hand. Emma had run down to answer the door the moment the doorbell rang. Simon had himself leaning against the stairs to make himself seem bigger. Even though he’s huge. 

“James!” Emma throws her arms around him. Simon tenses. You head over to the door, greeting the young boy.

That's when Simon realises the flowers in his hands for you, not Emma. He softens. James introduces himself, shaking his hand. Simon smiles, “Nice t’ meet ya. Keep ‘er safe. Be home by 10.”

***

Simon woke to his phone, not on silent, playing his basic ringtone. He groans, praying it didn’t wake you. When he feels your hand shove him, he knows it did. He reaches over, seeing James’ name on his screen. He picks it up, “What do ya want at this time of night?”

“Mr. Riley?”

“Kid, I’ve told ya. ‘S Simon.”

“Umm…I…Emma and I were at the movies and we were on our way to get ice cream, but this drunk driver hit us and totalled my car and Emma’s not waking up and I’m stuck in the car and-”

“Kid, kid, slow down. Where are ya?”

“50th ave…”

“Did ya call 911?”

“Yes…before I called you.”

“Okay, stay there. Try no’ to move. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay…please hurry…”

Simon hangs up, getting out of bed. Your hand pulls him back into bed. “What happened?”

“Dove and James got into an accident. I’m gone go take care of them,” he presses a kiss to your cheek before heading into the closet. 

“Wait, what? I’m coming with you!”

“No, lovie, you stay here, ‘kay?”

“I”m coming. That’s my daughter too.”

“Lovie…”

“Simon.”

“Fine, get ya clothes on.”

***

Simon pulls over, recognizing one of the cars in the wreck. James’. 

The boy sits leaning against it, his head in his hands. You run over, taking him into your arms. “Are you okay? Where’s Em? Is she okay?”

“She woke up a few minutes ago. The ambulance is checking on her. I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Riley.”

“Kid, ya got nothin’ to be sorry for,” Simon says, still looking around to spot Emma.

“I shouldn’t have taken her out so late…”

“KId, listen to me, it’s not ya fault.”

“But-”

“It’s not. Now, what ambulance did they take Dove to?”

James points to the one where she is. Simon walks towards the truck while you take James’ hand. “Did you call your mom?”

“No, she’d kill me if she had to leave work for something this dumb.”

“It’s not dumb. You’re hurt.” 

“She won’t come anyways.” 

“He can come home with us. Spend the night with Dove,” Simon interrupts, hearing the conversation you two were having. 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you smile at Simon. He heads over to Emma, where she holds an icepack to her head. Her eyes spot her father and she lights up, falling towards him and into his arms. 

James stands behind Simon, a guilty look on his face. “Em?”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare,” Emma sighs. “This wasn’t your fault. I’m fine. I promise.” 

Simon caresses her head, holding her tightly against him. “‘ts nobodys faul’. We’re gone go home. Both o’ ya gonna be fine.”

James looks down at his feet. “Thank you, Mr. Ri-Simon…”

Simon smiles internally. 

He won’t ever admit it but he has 3 sons now.

[kentoberry]

SING IT TO ME — toji fushiguro.

pairings ⭒ dilf ! toji x babysitter ! reader.

about ⭒ toji didn't pick his son's babysitter purely on her résumé.

content ⭒ [ 18+ ; minors do not interact ] ⭒ f reader ⭒ age gap (toji in his 40s, reader in their 20s) ⭒ sp@nking ⭒ dd/lg themes ⭒ f!ngering ⭒ daddy k-nk ⭒ many pet names.

"ya like that, princess?" toji growled. "not so bad for an old man, eh?"

he spat on your cunt once again, smirking as his fingers resumed stretching out your pretty hole. your back was arching off of the mattress as your body had endured countless orgasms on toji's hand, throat feeling dry from the amount that you'd begged for him to give in and stuff his cock inside of you. 

"daddy. . ." you drawled, crawling closer to exhaustion and coming down from yet another high. 

"you okay there, doll? need ta stop?"

you immediately shook your head, toji chuckling at how desperate you were for him. slowly, he slid his fingers out of you, placing a tender kiss to your clit as he praised you for being a good girl for him. you couldn't help the wanton mewl that slid past your puffy lips, mentally cursing your oversensitive cunt.

"t-touch me," you mumbled lazily.

"what's that, sweetheart? i 'av been touchin' ya, silly thing," toji wasn't above teasing you despite your vulnerable state, knowing that you were aware that it was all in good fun.

"no, no," your babbles continued, "need you… need your cock in me," you trailed off.

toji tutted. "where are yer manners, princess? i thought ya were being good f'me; do i need to punish yer bratty ass?" 

"no!" you yelped, even though his punishments were always quite enjoyable. "'m so- i'm sorry, daddy! p- please, wan' you s'bad…" 

you were cute, toji would give you that. a sweet young thing, half his age, grovelling to him and begging for his fat cock. he definitely had chosen the perfect babysitter to take care of his little megumi. yeah, the kid liked you and you practically treated him as your own, but what the man truly adored was the way your ass looked in those skinny jeans, the way your tits looked in that swimsuit when you had accompanied both fushiguros to the beach. it was certainly unprofessional of him to hire you for such superficial reasons, but every time that you were pinned down under him, crying for him, he didn't have the slightest regret. and considering your sugary sweet tone as you called him "daddy", he didn't think you regretted anything either. 

toji perched on the edge of his bed, patting his lap for you to come and lay across it. you always did your best to be the best doll he could ever dream of, but there were occasions where the innocent guise slipped and you accidentally disobeyed one of his rules. toji was never one for brats, and you were certain that if you gave him a reason to, he could break you.

"don't make it any worse f'r yourself, princess," he threatened, although his words retained a slight saccharine flavour. 

you did precisely as he said, crawling across to his lap like a lost little puppy. although it was almost demeaning the way that you so willingly laid across his meaty thighs, you couldn't deny the sparks that it sent to your cunt. 

"count." he commanded, tone sharp. you yelped as he brought his hand down on your bare ass, unable to halt your squirming as the pain overwhelmed you for a brief moment. 

"what did i fuckin' say?" toji spat, ignoring the tears brimming on your waterline. "c'mon, say sorry 'nd i'll keep it nice."

you mustered up every last bit of composure that you could, and rambled out: "'m s-sorry, daddy… 'll be good… i promise!"

toji took pity on how pathetic you looked, yet was also somewhat enthralled that you allowed yourself to let your guard down with him. consequently, he mumbled a soft "good girl" and massaged your sore skin before spanking you with equally as much force once again. 

"t-two!" you whimpered, trying to ensure that your quivering voice was loud enough that toji would hear it. this back and forth continued until you'd counted to eleven before uttering your safe word. at that point, tears were cascading down your puffy cheeks and your pussy was dripping. 

"shhh," toji cooed, using his extraordinary strength to lift you up to straddle his lap. you instinctively curled into his chest and let him spout all the praises under the sun in an attempt to calm you down a little. "princess, yer so wet," he stated. "how's about ya take my cock as a reward, yeah? daddy's gonna fuck his precious girl and make ya feel better? make ya cream all over m'cock?"

you nodded.

"big girl words, love,"

"please… daddy, i need you s'bad… please, please, please," you chanted, donning your best puppy dog eyes to meet his piercing emerald ones. 

"good girl, daddy's gonna treat you so well,"

[luveline]

Hi don’t know if you’re taking requests (if not please ignore!) just wondering how Halloween would look like in the KBD universe or even a masquerade ball for prince Steve and reader?

thank you for requesting angel ♡ kbd mom!reader, 2k

"I think we should paint her orange," Avery says. 

Steve pushes the wand of his bubbles back into the container, coating it in solution. "What for, honey?" 

"For Halloween! We'll paint her orange and she can be a pumpkin." 

"Oh." 

Steve purses his lips, blowing bubbles over the green grass of the garden. It's alive despite it being late October, mildly crisp underfoot. He can hear leaves crunching under Bethie's boots where she runs around toward the back gate. 

Wren sees the bubbles and giggles wildly. Steve grins. "You like those, sweetheart?" 

"What if we make her green like a witch?" 

"Who, Ave?" 

"Wren." 

"Oh. Well, Wren can't use face paint yet, babe, she's too little," Steve explains, dipping the wand in solution again. "But they're very good ideas. Do you know what you want to be?" 

Avery throws her hands out. She's getting older than he ever imagined her, but she's still so small at the end of the day with delicate little hands and facial expressions cute enough to make a grown man cry. Steve would know, he's cried a ton of times just looking at her. 

"I already told you." 

Steve pretends to remember to spare her feelings as he blows more bubbles. He knows you'll know, and so it's a white lie. Better for everyone. "I remember! You're gonna be awesome." 

She smiles for the first time in ten whole minutes and sits down next to Steve. He offers her the bubbles and the wand, freeing his hands to give her a loving squeeze from either side. "Very good ideas," he repeats, patting her arm.

Bethie comes running with two cupped hands. Steve can picture her find before she shows him, and still he's horrified to see a slug in her palm. It's not big but neither is she, lavishing across the breadth of her hand. 

Ew, Steve thinks. "Wow, Beth! What did you find?" 

"There's snails, too!" she says excitedly, her eyes bright as her attention flickers between the slug and her dad. "They're sleeping, I think. They're stuck to the slide." 

"Beth, listen to me really quickly?" 

"Yeah, dad," she says, nodding. 

"I like that you're being gentle with the slugs, you're being nice, but as soon as you put him down, don't touch your face, okay? In fact, when you put him down, we're gonna go inside and wash our hands." 

Beth looks down at her slug in alarm. "What?" 

"He's not dangerous!" Steve reassures her. "But he might have germs. Germs don't hurt our skin, but they can't go in your mouth, okay? Good girl." 

"He can't hurt my skin?" 

"No, bub. Some bugs can, but not the plain black slugs. How about next time you want to pick one up, you come and get me and we'll pick it up together?" 

Steve doesn't want to kill her fearlessness in this sole area, not when she's usually timid around everything else, but he also doesn't want to kill her full stop. All these random bugs, Steve doesn't know what's what. 

"Okay. I picked this one up because he's got a yellow stripe," she says. Beth speaks in full words and makes sense the majority of the time, but her delivery is clumsy, heavy in places. Steve can still remember her first word. He's a firm believer in taking your time (please. please, let her take her time). 

"You're super brave," he praises.

"Mom says bugs are more 'fraid of us than we are of them." 

"She's right. Think if something this much bigger than you picked you up one day, you'd want them to put you down gently, right?" 

Determination fills her eyes. "Yes." 

She starts to run off but then slows, holding her hand aloft in front of her. 

Closer by, Avery blows bubbles near Wren's soft chair, the youngest baby giggling like a tinkling bell. You and Steve have emphasised to Avery that Wren isn't her responsibility. Look after her as you would your other sisters, but don't feel like being the biggest sister makes you in charge. Avery sort of listened, but now she's planning Halloween costumes in her head, Steve's worried she's putting too much on her little shoulders, as she tends to do. 

"Come here, my big girl," he demands, opening his arms. 

Avery grins and jumps into his lap. Steve groans playfully, happy to be trampled, and just glad she had the foresight to screw the cap on her bubbles before she pounced. 

"Hello. So, do I need to go to the store for this costume?" he asks. 

"Probably."

"Okay. Are you coming with me to choose?" 

"Mom said we're all going after lunch." 

Steve waves her arms back and forth. "I guess we better get ready, then." 

Easier said than done. Steve marches the girls back inside to find you've already dressed Dove and sat her in her chair with her lunch in front of her. Feeding young kids is tough because you're always trying to rotate things to keep their tastes big, but you've given in today to an easy solution; everybody's having pizza subs and halved grapes. So long as they're fed, who minds? 

"Give me the babies!" you say, jumping up from your seat to grab Wren, chair and all, "Hi. Something tells me it's time for a bottle." 

"I'll get them dressed–" 

"Go get yourself dressed. They can eat first." You kiss his cheek. "I put some stuff out for you already." 

"I can do it," he insists. 

"Take a break," you insist back, your tone gentle as velveteen.

His turn to kiss your cheek. "Do you know what Avery wants to be for her costume?" he asks in your ear. 

"She wants to be Belle, she told us weeks ago." He remembers as soon as you say it. "But I don't think finding a costume for her is going to be very easy this close to Halloween." 

Steve doesn't blame either of you for your busy October, but he hates himself watching Avery grow more and more disappointed with every store you drive to. There are no yellow princess dresses to be found, only store brand pinks. Bethie is ecstatic to choose one of those ones and Dove insists on a white fairy costume with sugar paper wings, but Avery's frown grows heartbreaking when it's clear there aren't any Belle dresses to buy. 

"I'm sorry," you're saying, Wren strapped to your chest, Beth and Dove knee to knee in the shopping cart in front of you. "It's my fault, baby, I left it last minute." 

"No, it's my fault," Steve says. 

Avery glares for a while, standing in front of all the dresses. Steve bends down to speak with her. "I'm sorry, Ave. Don't be mad at mom, okay? It's not her fault even when she says it is, she was busy working and I forgot about costumes because I had all that stuff with Wren and the doctors and my glasses and–" He winces. "I'm sorry. Really, really sorry. So be mad at me if you want, I was supposed to remember, but I'll make it up to you, promise."

"I told you ages ago," she says morosely. 

"I know. You did. I didn't think about them running out of costumes, Avery. Sometimes when you're a grown up you have so much stuff to think of you don't have room for all of it, but that's not fair, huh? Now you don't get the costume you wanted." 

She sighs, but the thing about Avery is that if you understand her point, she runs out of anger, just like her mom. She wants to make up, burying her face in Steve's thigh for a hug. 

"What am I going to be now?" she asks. 

"How about Belle's blue dress, babe?" you suggest. 

"They don't have any Belle costumes!" 

"I know, but we can make one. That's what me and dad did growing up, right?" you ask. 

"All my costumes were homemade," he seconds, "that was the fun part." 

So Avery marches you guys to the normal dresses and together you look for something nice and long enough for her tall stature. It's in the middle of this searching when she gasps, jumping up to grab Steve by the elbows. 

Delighted at being forgiven, he bends down at her whim. "What?" he asks excitedly. 

"Wren can be a bumblebee, like me!" 

"You remember that?" he asks. 

"No, but you have the photo in the car. Do you still have the costume?" 

It's Steve. Of course he kept the costume, he keeps everything, an attic stuffed to bursting with the offcuts of your lives. You giggle from the landing underneath him, the baby in one arm and a spooky drink made special by Dove in the other hand. "I wish you could drink more than milk." 

"Don't poison her!" Steve says, covered in cobwebs and knees white with dust as he climbs down the rickety ladder back onto solid ground. You wolf whistle as he reaches up to close everything safely, and cheer when you see the bee costume in his hand.

"You're the best. Think we should let Avery put it on her?" you ask. 

"Maybe. Think she can be gentle enough?"

Your little girl, so preoccupied with her sister's costume that she forgot about her own? Yes, Avery can be gentle enough. She sews Wren's small arms into the costume's sleeves like she's handling a girl made of glass, and she doesn't attempt to lift her, quick to say, "Dad, can you pick her up for me?" 

Steve lifts her and Wren does her scrunch, legs pulled up high and face a little startled. She's just old enough to giggle, prompting Bethie to join in as she races across the living room rug, the skirts of her dress fluttering against the floor. 

"She looks like a bee!" Dove says, following after, her fairy wings jittering with her movements. 

"She is!" Avery says, buttoning Wren's last button. 

Finally, after an exhausting afternoon (both of energy and your wallets), the four girls are dressed in their Halloween costumes. Avery as Belle in her original blue dress and white apron, not the costume she wanted but clearly her favourite character nonetheless. Bethie wears her pink princess dress and one of Avery's big plastic tiaras, her hair done as you would style your own for date night. Dove twirls in her white fairy dress, silver corset ribbons shiny in the light. Wren gurgles in his arms, her soft wings folded between her and Steve's chest. And you, uncostumed, stand beautiful and tired in the doorway, sparkly eyeshadow in a stripe up your cheek. 

The girls smile at him and their eyes glimmer. 

"Wow," he says, leaning back against the couch. "You guys look amazing." 

"It's about an hour until we're gonna leave," you say, "so please do mommy a favour and watch some TV, okay?" 

You set them up in a line with a bowl of chips each —you can vacuum them clean. Steve cleans as quickly as he can while you wipe your face and put aside some stuff for tonight in case the girls come home hungry, and eventually, eventually, you and Steve make your way to the kitchen table for a quiet minute together. 

"Wren's–" 

"In her bassinet," Steve says. "You're–" 

"Fine." You reach for his hand. "And you're–" 

"Perfect." He rubs the back of your fingers with his thumb. "I've missed you today. I know we were together, but…" 

You slouch into the table, resting your cheek on a placemat and closing your eyes. "Me too, sweetheart." 

He shuffles closer and leans in. "Tired, huh?" he asks gently, pressing similarly soft kisses to your cheek. "Love you," he says. "Don't fall asleep." 

"I'm not. Just resting my eyes." 

He doesn't rub your back, worried it'll send you to sleep. Instead, he kisses all over your face, sloe at first and faster when he realises it'll take a while to cover every inch. You smile and let him do as he pleases, laughing under your breath as he kisses your eyelid, squirming when he pecks under your nose. "Freak," you mumble. 

"That's what I'm being for Halloween."

"What am I gonna be?" you ask.

"Same as every year, I thought. Most beautiful girl this side of the Mississippi river." 

You like the sound of it, pulling your joined hands to your face to nuzzle his knuckles. 

"Or you can be Frankentstein," he suggests. "I'll be the monster." 

"We can just be the two tiredest parents ever." 

"That's not super creative, babe, we kinda do that every day." 

"So I'm not beautiful every day," you say quickly, having set him up. "Knew it." 

"You tricked me." 

"Did not. Make it up to me?" 

"What do you want?" he asks. 

"Just a hug, Stevie." You raise your head to smile at him sleepily. "A really nice hug, please." 

He saves the line about every hug being nice when it's with you and cuddles you, stroking your back for countless minutes, murmuring nothings to you until baby Wren shriek-cries from the living room. Steve soothes her upset, and you start the impossible task of getting everyone in their shoes for a night of trick-or-treating.

[koenigsbleachedshirt]

Please I need some emotions...I need how all three would react to finding YN beat up or something. The emotions, the angst, the possessive and protectiveness....PLS I BEG OF YOU

Bet 🙏🏻

TW: graphic violence, fighting, shooting

y/cs = your callsign

initial situation -> you were out on a mission with your team to deal with a no-name terrorist group. Everything had gone well until the last standing member managed to slam the butt of his gun against the back of your head. You toppled to the ground in pain, vision peppered with black spots. "Fuck... you piece of shit." You hiss when he gets you on your back and starts beating down on you.

Ghost

He hadn't seen or heard of you after calling through the comms, so he grew worried. "Cap', y/cs hasn't responded to my inquiries, I'mma go 'ave a look." Ghost informs Price, who nods in return.

He was decently close with you, so it left a bitter taste in his mouth when you didn't respond. What if someone had managed to mortally injure you and you were laying somewhere and bleeding out?

Ghost hurried through the rooms of the mostly cleared building and came to a stop when he spotted one of the terrorists on top of you, his fists continuously beating down on your, by now unconscious, body. Then he saw red.

Simon ran towards the fucker who dared to touch you yanked him up by his vest, literally throwing him a few feet away from you before proceeding to punch his living daylights out. "Ya fuckin' dare to hurt one of our mates?! I'm gonna fuckin' kill ya, damn cunt!"

He doesn't stop bashing his face in until it's a bloody mess, his fists dripping with the man's blood. He doesn't spare him another glance before going to check on you, blood running cold when he sees the state you're in. Simon's heart is beating out of his chest at the sight; your lip is busted and still slightly bleeding. There's also a laceration on your cheekbone and a nasty bruise forming around it, and not to forget the black eye you're starting to get.

Ghost exhales a shaky breath and gently scoops you up into his arms, careful not to hurt you any further. That bastard has probably beaten more places than just your face.

And he's going to kill them all by himself if he has to.

König

He had just finished absolutely obliterating five of the terrorists in another room and was about to check up on his team when he heard your pained cries from across the hall. König didn't waste any time, running to the source of the sound and kicking open the slightly ajar door.

The man was sitting on your stomach, violently beating you up; you try your best to kick him off, but he's too big. All you can do is try to shield your face, but it doesn't do much because he still got a few good hits on you.

But then you see your Colonel behind your attacker, distracting you enough to catch a fist to the jaw, and suddenly, you're out cold.

The giant colonel did not enjoy that. He picks the asshole up by the back of his collar and puts him in a chokehold. "You made a giant mistake here, du kleiner Bastard." König says into the terrorist's ear, sounding almost demonic, before he manhandles him around.

And then he breaks his back, like a stick that's being snapped over his knee. The man screams bloody murder, but König isn't done. Next, he breaks the arm he used to beat you up with, snapping it so hard the bone broke through the skin. And then the man went limp, either fell unconscious due to the pain, or straight up died.

He couldn't care less, though, as he tossed him aside and moved to kneel down next to your knocked out form. A pang of panic went through him as he hurriedly picked you up to evacuate and get you to a medic as soon as possible.

König is not going to lose you. Not when he finally found a new purpose.

Keegan

He witnessed it all through the scope of his sniper rifle, jaw clenched tightly. How dare this terrorist scum hurt you?

"Sergeant Russ here, I'm going in." He says into the comms before quickly making his way to where this man decided to touch something that wasn't his.

When Keegan arrived, you were already knocked out, his blood running cold. "You dare hurt my y/cs? Oh, you've made a grave mistake there." He says, voice dangerously low as he raises his assault rifle.

The terrorist on top of you freezes, arm raised back for another punch, but not plowing down again. "Get the fuck off of them, hands in the air."

The man does what he's told, but right when he's back on his feet, he moves to take out his gun, probably trying to shoot Keegan.

But instead, he aims it at you. Keegan's eyes widen, and without thinking, he shoots the terrorist straight through the forehead. The man's aim falters but still pulls the trigger, and the bullet lands inches from your face on the ground.

Keegan drops his rifle from the shock; that fucking man almost killed you right in front of him. His whole body is shaking as he flops down next to you, one hand gently caressing your cheek. "You're safe now. Let's go back to base." He says before slinging his rifle around himself and then picking you up and carrying you out of the building.

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

supermarket run-ins (the start of something new)

summary: nathan mackinnon x f!reader // the supermarket meeting...eventually they'll get married (from this)

warnings: nate being adorably awkward

word count: 3.2k

< i'm gonna link this to a series called 'funny how life works out' (in the works) on my main masterlist and if there's anything you want to see from this universe, please shoot me an ask, my requests are open! >

Nate knew there was always going to be a risk of running into someone he went to school with when he came back to Cole Harbour: the place was pretty small, and nearly every time he’d gone out he’d see a familiar face hiding around the corner, but he wasn’t sure if he could take another awkward conversation, least of all when he was grocery shopping. 

It was early May, and the second round loss in the playoffs against the Sharks was still a remarkably sore ache, and the last thing he wanted was for someone to offer their condolences for it: he knew people meant well, but sometimes it did just rub salt in the wound – and for that reason, he decided the best course of action was to do his grocery shopping a little way out of town and at the strangest time possible, i.e. seven A.M on a Thursday morning, because who the fuck else would be insane enough to go grocery shopping that early in the morning?

Or, at least, that was part of his strategy. The other part involved wearing his sweatpants and zip up (it was chilly that early in the morning) and a baseball cap inside to make himself seem as glum and as unapproachable as possible. He wasn’t necessarily trying to hide his identity – it never worked with a baseball cap in those superhero movies – nor did he actually believe that people in Halifax would genuinely care who he was, because he wasn’t the only person to have made it to the NHL in these parts, and he certainly wasn’t the most famous, either. In fact, people were more blase about it than not.

Still, that didn’t stop him from keeping his head down when he walked through the doors as soon as the store opened, nor did it stop him from keeping his eyes on the floor as he navigated his way through the aisles, listening rather closely to the faint music playing over the intercom as he picked up a basket and made his way for the fresh fruit and veg aisle. 

Despite having only been back home for a few days, he already had plans, and those plans consisted largely of cooking, eating, working out, and then walking the short distance from his house to Sid’s so they could mourn the devastating loss of their Stanley Cup for this year. Though, Nate did feel as though he had more of a reason to mourn this time: Sid had won it three times already, and this season the Penguins didn’t even make it to play-off contention, whereas the Avs had. Second round. Still bitter. And Nate had yet to get his hands on Lord Stanley.

Even the mere thought of it made his jaw clench. He wondered what he must look like to an onlooker: murderous glares at the carrots usually weren’t a good sign for anyone. In fact, even that thought had him swiping a bag of carrots and looking both ways down the aisle as a precaution, as though he was guilty of doing something – yet, as far as he was aware, the only thing he was guilty of was being this miserable sore loser at seven-ten in the morning. 

He reckoned that was a new personal record – he could usually hold it off until half past the hour, but it seemed the early morning pining had gotten to him exceptionally early.

He took a step to the right, reaching for the bag of lettuce, when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Usually he wouldn’t have bothered looking: he was in a supermarket, and people were expected to walk through pretty often, but he’d been the only person sad and mad enough to wait outside the doors until they opened up, and he knew for a fact that no one else had followed him in immediately after.

Only, when he turned his attention to the end of the aisle, he saw someone. A woman. She was walking down towards the back of the store, the aisle directly in line with his. He didn’t know if she’d seen him, but she had headphones on and was wearing athletic gear: shorts, trainers, a long-sleeved top under a short-sleeved one. Nate knew that because he recognised the logo on her shoulder and he had one of his own, only it a different colour, and it was much bigger.

He blinked, turning back to his own list. 

He didn’t make it through another five seconds before giving in and looking back at her. He couldn’t quite shake the air of familiarity she encompassed. Even though he hadn’t seen her face, there was something undoubtedly recognisable in the way she moved and stood.

He’d seen that woman before. Knew her, even. He didn’t know who she was, but he knew that much. He just had a feeling, the kind that settles so delicately in your bones and has your heart pounding just that little bit faster – he couldn’t quite ignore it.

Still, he continued on with the rest of his shopping, even going so far as to treat himself with some cake mix (that he was probably going to just bake and give to his parents, because he’d have one slice and get bored and before he’d know it, he’d have to throw the entire thing away because it’d gone stale), and it was as he was making his way back up to the tills, walking straight through the ready meals aisle, that he saw her again.

She was standing in front of the refrigerated section, her basket on the floor as she held two boxes in her hands, seemingly undecided on something. A small part of him hoped that she’d see someone coming and look at them (him, really), so he could deduce who she was. In fact, a large part of him wanted that. It was all he wanted at that moment. He wasn’t sure if he could leave the supermarket without figuring it out before he left – and he immediately shut that thought down because he sounded like an absolute creep.

He kept his steps mildly loud and purposeful, not moving too fast or too slow to rouse suspicion, and he kept to the centre of the aisle. At some point his hands seemed to have made the decision to take his cap off his head, because when he briefly looked down at his basket it was sitting on top of the cat food (probably for the better, because it’d be weird if he ended up saying he didn’t actually own a cat even though he had cat food – that was guessing he’d even end up saying something anyway: it was all rather a large question mark in that sense), and he ran an anxious hand through his hair, fluffing it up from where it had been squashed, before looking up.

The woman reached down, dropping a box into her basket, the other one nestled safely back on the shelf, and whether he’d timed the entire thing impeccably well, or whether she’d actually seen him, she looked up. Right at him. And, before he could even do anything consciously, his legs had slowed to a stop.

He was right. He definitely knew her. In fact, the very woman standing in front of him was the exact same one he’d had a crush on in school from the age of ten to…well, he wasn’t quite sure when it stopped because he left shortly after that, but now she was standing in front of him, smiling politely, and Nate instantly felt like a giddy ten-year old again.

It was you.

You, who upon seeing he’d stopped in his utterly bewitched stupor, had taken the headphones off from over your ears and had turned to face him.

All because he stopped in his tracks.

“Hi.” You said, picking up your basket on the floor and regarding him with some sense of confusion.

He blinked, his mouth falling open dumbly, the words sitting right there on the top of his tongue, but he seemed suddenly incapable of even stringing anything together. 

He shut his mouth almost immediately after that realisation, and the flush in his cheeks almost seemed inevitable — as did your curious quirk of an eyebrow, because even the people that didn’t know him well knew it was never a good sign for someone who was so used to being in the public eye, to stutter and make a fool of themselves simply trying to have a polite conversation.

“Is everything okay?” 

He didn’t know it was possible to blush even harder, but he felt it tingle in his toes and the tips of his ears. 

“Sorry, I—” he cleared his throat, heart hammering in his chest like there was no tomorrow, “You just took me by surprise, I guess. Haven’t seen you in years.” He managed, tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. He’d never struggled so much before, but old habits do die hard and he’d never been completely normal talking to you when he was ten.

A look of pleasant surprise crossed your features, and only then did it occur to him that it might be weird of him to say something like that, because you two hadn’t really known each other at all. A few weeks sitting at the same table didn’t exactly constitute the kind of friendship that’d be so profound you’d shock him.

“Would that surprise also have something to do with the fact that we’re apparently the only two people with the thought to go shopping at this time?” You ignored the latter half of his bumbling ramble, probably for the better, and instead seemed to find some relief in the fact that he had regained his ability to talk.

He didn’t quite know which was worse.

Nevertheless, he stuck on a smile and tugged awkwardly at his earlobe for a moment, “It might, yeah.”

You hummed, rocking back on your heels with the faint trace of an amused smile on your face.

It was only then that he noticed the old, slightly worn in Halifax Mooseheads logo printed squarely on the front of your t-shirt, and he very quickly averted his eyes — only the more he seemed to look at your face, the more obvious it became that you were every bit still as beautiful as you had been to his ten year old self, if not more. 

“So, where are you, how are you these days?” He asked, once again the words tumbling straight from his mouth with little thought, but you seemed to appreciate the question, if he read the look on your face correctly.

“I went to college in Montreal, and I’m still there. I work for a law firm as a legal translator…And I guess I’m doing well.” You shrugged, “What about you?”

Nathan swallowed nervously, the crushing weight of the loss almost crashing into him full force, and he knew he froze for a good couple of seconds, trying to get his head back into the present moment. He didn’t know if you could tell just where his mind had gone, or if you were just that patient, but you didn’t say anything or do anything to indicate his lack of immediate response.

“I’m good, yeah. I mean, I’m still reeling from the play-off loss, but it’s nice to come home and recharge.” He inhaled, “But other than that, Denver’s treating me well.”

“That’s good.” 

“As good as it can get to say I got absolutely no choice as to where I had to live when I was eighteen? I’d say so, yeah.” He agreed, feeling himself ease up a little.

He couldn’t get his mind to quieten, and he felt jittery; he didn’t know what to do with his hands and he knew all of that would be solved if he just stopped thinking so hard about a simple conversation, but all he could think about was his poor younger self, who, upon finding out he had to move to Minnesota, did wonder what happened to you.

If his younger self could see him now…

You laughed softly at his sarcasm, and he felt the clouds part for a moment – a laugh meant he wasn’t completely making a fool of himself.

“What are you doing here now anyway?” You asked, wandering across the aisle, your basket still on the floor, and he watched, one hand stuffed in his hoodie pocket, as you picked some cheese off the shelf and made your way back to the basket.

“I’m restocking my fridge and avoiding any possible run-ins with people–well, with people I went to school with, actually.” 

You just grinned, and for some reason he had an idea of what your next words would be before you even said them, “How’s that working out for you?”

Nate shrugged lamely, “There are worse people to run into.”

And from the comical look on your face Nate had an awful feeling that you knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Is that why you’re here too?” He continued, acutely aware of the fact that you were mid-shopping trip, and he knew for a fact that even if he did want to keep standing there and chatting to you for a little while longer, he couldn’t. Not really. Still, it hadn’t been quite long enough yet to end it now.

If he did, he knew he’d regret it if it was the last time he’d ever see you again for the rest of his life.

You shrugged, showing no signs of his presence or conversation either dulling or pissing you off, and answered without hesitation, your basket now in your arms again, “Yeah, but I’m also busy for the rest of the day so I couldn’t go at any other time.”

“Oh, anything nice planned?” 

“It’s my Dad’s birthday, so there’s some family coming over and then we’re all going out for dinner.” There was a pause, and for a brief second Nathan felt himself get hot with panic at the mere thought of that brief pause turning into an awkward silence, but you spoke again, and his heart rate dwindled and his body temperature lowered with the help from the fridges, “You got any plans for today?”

Nate felt himself begin to nod before he could spew the words out, “Yeah.” He said, “I’m seeing Sid tonight.” It was only after he finished talking and had the chance to double-check that he hadn’t said anything wrong accidentally, that he realised that you might not know who Sid is.

He had no clue if you even liked hockey. In fact, he knew little to nothing about you apart from that fact that you were clever, played soccer quite violently from what he’d heard from some of his friends, and that you went to college in Montreal, and both lived and worked there now. And it was your Dad’s birthday today.

In fact, now that he thought about it, you hadn’t actually given him any indication that you knew who he was. You’d not said his name, how would he know you weren’t faking it to be polite?

He didn’t voice any of that, though. If he did, it wouldn't matter if you knew who he was or not, because the second he voiced exactly what was running through his head, this entire thing would turn into a car crash.

“Kind of crazy how that works out, huh?” You asked rhetorically, and Nate raised a brow, waiting for you to elaborate, “I remember you talking about him in class, and now…”

Nate grinned, only just resisting the urge to sigh in relief, and all at once his mind seemed to clear. It quietened; he could think properly now. All because you remembered him. 

He felt a little bit pathetic, actually, at how easy it was for him to physically brighten because of one vague thing from fourteen or so years ago (fourteen!), that he probably told everyone who would listen – but he had a strong visual in his mind, then, of everyone else on that school table tuning out his Crosby-rambling, and you were the only one listening. He remembered you’d ask him questions, and…you liked hockey, he remembered that now.

It was funny how a moment so insignificant in the past could feel like a tectonic plate shifting under his feet. 

“Oh, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. God, he really did chat hockey a lot, didn’t he? “And they say don’t meet your idol.”

You fucking remembered him!

You breathed a laugh, and Nate felt something in his chest splinter at the sound, only when he seemed to really look at you next, you shivered, teeth pressed together and shoulders trembling. He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it before, considering you were standing in a cold aisle with shorts on, and him with full length sweatpants and a hoodie, but it was freezing. Really cold, and the guilt that came with that observation had him immediately stepping away slightly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should let you get back to your shopping.” He rambled nervously.

“It’s okay, I’m not really in a rush.”

What was he supposed to say to that? What did it mean? Was it an invitation to stay longer? To keep chatting? He had no fucking clue, and he was sure the chaos of his thoughts was unfortunately also mirrored on his face judging from the way you were now looking at him (or was he overthinking that, too?); yet, the only thing that came out of his mouth was: “It was nice catching up with you–”

“I have three days left before I go back to Montreal.” You interrupted, and Nate blinked.

He blinked again. His heart was in his throat. What–Oh. 

“Do you maybe want to get drinks before you go?” He asked, heart pounding so very painfully against his ribs. He didn’t know why asking that question was so nerve-racking, especially considering you’d half fone the job for him anyway, but there was something tugging at him that had his hands trembling slightly as he put his number in your phone. He looked over to see you doing the same on his phone, and though your fingers were shaking too he couldn’t say for certain if it was because of the cold or your own nerves.

“Tell your Dad happy birthday from me.” He muttered once he’d repocketed his phone and managed to make eye contact with you without a) smiling too hard and looking like a crazy person, or b) looking like he was constipated.

“I will.” You promised, “Have fun tonight, too.”

“I’ll try.” He managed a normal smile, “See you later.”

“See you.”

And he spent the entire walk back to his car trying not to scream out of excitement. He’d never been so giddy for later.

[1caru]

Please! Can you give us more LU in twilight’s hyrule?

More ancestor and descendant relationship between time and twilight! 🥹 *cries*

hehe I'm honored that you like my work so much and want more <3

unfortunately I already have a ton of other projects lined up, so I can't promise anything yet, but you did remind me that I wanted to write a bit of a second part to my Time and Skull Kid comic, so I whipped this up for you. it's not really edited or anything but hopefully you enjoy it anyway~

(here's the link to the comic that comes before this for anyone who hasn't seen it yet, please read it for context:

"Hold on, where's the old man?"

Twilight turned around sharply, drawing a surprised yelp from the sailor sitting on his shoulders. "What?"

"He was just here," said Four, "Did he just... wander off? That's not like him."

"Maybe he got grabbed by something!" Wind exclaimed, searching the dense foliage for any signs of monsters.

"We haven't seen any monsters since we arrived here, though," Hyrule said thoughtfully, “And we would have heard him put up a fight.”

Dread began to build in Twilight's chest as his wolfish senses caught the faintest sound of an ocarina. He lowered Wind from his back and approached Legend, pulling his map out and offering it to the veteran. "I'll go look for him. There's a Spirit Spring not far from here, wait for us there," he explained, tracing the path with his finger, "The tunnel up ahead is dark, so you'll need a lantern, but the tunnel after that is well lit and leads right to the spring. I'll be back soon."

"Hold your horses, rancher," Legend said, grabbing Twilight's shoulder with his free hand before the man could run off into the woods, "Shouldn't one of us come with you, just in case?"

"I... I think I know where he went," Twilight said softly, "Don't worry, I know every corner of these woods. Trust me."

Legend released Twilight's shoulder and watched as he almost immediately shifted into wolf form and darted back down the trail they had been following. He sighed and motioned to the rest of the group, glancing back at the map in his hand. "Well, come on then, guys."

*

Twilight raced along the scent trail, muscle memory carrying him effortlessly over tree roots and through small tunnels left by local wildlife. His ears flattened against his head in panic when he picked up Time's trail, heading in the exact direction he had predicted. Would he reach his mentor in time? Or had the man already discovered that which he should not see?

The plaintive whistle of the ocarina, which had been gradually increasing in volume, came to an abrupt halt, and Twilight's heart jumped in his chest as if to mimic it.

He was too late.

His paws slowed to a defeated trot as he approached the quiet clearing. He shifted back into his Hylian form, then silently crept through the bushes, bracing himself for what he would find.

Time knelt in the clearing with his back to Twilight, his arms wrapped around a very familiar little spirit. Just beyond them, a simple gravestone sat nestled in the mossy ground, the inscription on it as clear as the day it was chiseled:

Link, Hero and Mentor.

The spirit in Time's arms lifted his face from where it had been buried in the man's shoulder. Little yellow eyes met Twilight's pale blue ones, and the spirit gasped. “Link! Doggy Link is here too!”

Time turned in surprise, as if just remembering who he had been traveling with until ten minutes ago. He smiled at Twilight for a moment, but suddenly found it hard to make eye contact when he noticed the expression on his protege's face.

“Um, Skull Kid, would you give us a moment?” he asked softly, looking down at the spirit that was still clinging to him.

Skull Kid held on tighter, suddenly looking very scared that Time might simply vanish if he let go.

“I'm not going anywhere, I promise,” Time soothed, “I just need to talk to him. I'll stay right here, okay?”

Twilight nodded behind him.

Skull Kid studied Twilight for a moment, then looked up at Time. “...Okay,” he murmured. He picked up the ocarina he had dropped earlier and pressed it into Time's hand. “Play this when you are done, okay? You better play it!”

Time smiled. “I will.”

He watched Skull Kid hop off into the trees, then rose to his feet, cradling the little tan ocarina in his hand. His thumb ran over the polished surface, the texture so familiar yet such a distant memory. He looked back at the gravestone, suddenly regretting that time their little group had taught each other how to read their different Hylian scripts.

“Seems I've wandered somewhere I should not have gone, haven't I?” he sighed.

Twilight walked into the clearing and stood by Time's side, somberly following his mentor's gaze. “Did Skull Kid tell you anything?”

“No,” Time replied, “But actions often say more than words can.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, unsure how to approach the subject at hand.

Twilight opened his mouth to speak, but Time quickly raised a hand to stop him. “Pup, I will not ask for an explanation if you do not want to give it. The flow of time is all too easily altered after all, one little word can completely change the course of history. However,” he continued, turning towards the young man, “I've seen the way you look at me, especially when our journey began. Someone your age should not have to look so sad. If telling me about this will ease some of the burden you carry, then I am more than happy to listen.”

Twilight looked up at him, his thoughts tripping over themselves in an effort to reach a decision. He desperately wanted to tell Time everything, how he had met him, what he knew of his mentor's fate. He wanted to tell him that changing the flow of time was his greatest desire, that he wished every day for a way to save Time from a death filled with regret and sorrow. And yet, his mind always wandered to that moment, when he had dealt the final blow to Ganondorf. The blow that Time's spirit had taught him. Would he had been able to defeat the Demon King if his ancestor had not been there to guide him? Would “saving” Time ultimately mean dooming Hyrule? Would it mean dooming more young heroes after him to take up the sword and attempt what he could not accomplish?

The rancher closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his forehead on Time's breastplate as his shoulders sagged and tears threatened to form. Time held him close, rubbing gentle circles on his arm with one hand and wrapping the other around his upper back, still clutching the ocarina.

“It's more of a memorial than a grave,” Twilight eventually spoke, "I met your spirit during my journey. You taught me your sword techniques. I suppose I just wanted to thank you by honoring your memory."

Time hummed in response. “I must have been a good teacher then. Your skills are amazing to watch in action.”

Twilight let out a watery chuckle. “They saved my life more times than I can count.” He rested in Time's arms for a moment more, then pulled away with a small smile. “I think that's all I can say for now. Go ahead and spend some time with Skull Kid, I'll tell the others you'll catch up later. Ask Skull Kid to lead you to Ordon Village when you're done.”

“Thank you,” Time said gratefully.

Twilight nodded and headed back out of the clearing.

“...You know,” Time continued, looking at the ocarina thoughtfully, “That song he was playing, it's not from Hyrule.”

Twilight paused.

“It holds a very powerful magic, one said to put the sorrows of the departed who hear it to rest and allow them to pass on peacefully.”

Pale blue eyes widened as another memory floated to the surface. A stone sitting on a mountain path, howling a song that he had mimicked without wondering what it meant. A song that had been answered by a golden wolf with a single eye. A Shade, uttering words that Twilight had almost forgotten in his worry over Time.

At last, I have eased my regrets.

Perhaps things would turn out all right in the end after all.

[peterman-spideyparker]

my tears ricochet (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader) 1/5

Author’s Note: Hi! This is technically a combination of two ideas--one that I've had for a bit written in my idea notebook, and another I got about a week ago (mildly induced by me watching Gossip Girl for the first time despite knowing all of the major plot points). I don't usually do angst, but boy is it here in this series. Enjoy, and I apologize in advance if I make anyone sad.

Summary: You and Matt Murdock come from different worlds: Matt, the son of a prize boxer from Hell’s Kitchen, you the daughter of a clothing designer and doctor on Park Ave. Meeting in law school was just chance, just was much as you falling for your friend. But fate had different paths for the two of you that pulled you apart, and you felt pain with each tear. Now, just over ten years later, you two meet again by chance, and everything and nothing has changed.

Warnings: Angst, unresolved feelings, lingering love and fondness, canon-typical arguments, language, mentions of death (reader is a widow)

Other Characters: Elektra Natchios

Word Count: 1,807

To say that Matt was annoyed with Elektra was an understatement. Pulling him away from a date was one thing, but pulling him away from a date to go to a ritzy gala? He was pissed. Maybe he wouldn’t mind it if he liked that kind of stuff, but he absolutely hates large crowds, people pretending to be things they’re not to look better than others. It’s just a place for the upper crust to brag. One of these things was the reason that he met Elektra in the first place; while their relationship had its moments in college, that is a moment he repeatedly visits in his mind with regret. There was absolutely no reason for Foggy and him to be there at that event—they were just two stupid college kids crashing a party, and it changed the course of his life. 

Even though Elektra made sure to get him a soft tux, it still felt like it was suffocating him. It was too much, and it was only adding to his discomfort and annoyance. He knows there’s a mission to focus on, but he can’t keep his mind on track. Matt half-listens to the plan Elektra is talking at him about as they stand with champagne flutes in hand, and just as she slips away into the crowd, he hones in on something that has to be a mistake. He puts down his untouched drink on a tray, slowly tapping over toward what has to be an anger-endured hallucination. But as he gets closer had he picks up a familiar scent, he knows he’s not imagining anything. Oh God, he’d never forget that smell. How could he the it’s attached to every memory he has of you?

“Angel,” he breathes. 

He can tell that it catches you off guard by how your posture changes, how your heart skips, and how your breathing increases. You turn slowly and Matt can sense how your eyes widen softly in surprise and something more. Matt listens to your heart flutter like a hummingbird’s as you try to keep calm and dull your buzzing senses.

“Matty,” you breathes, color rushing to your cheeks. His name sounds like honey dripping from your lips. He’s missed that sound. He’s missed you. So, so much. You clear your throat to regain your composure. “What a surprise. It’s lovely to see you here.”

“(Y/N/N),” he murmurs. Matt is simply shocked by meeting you here after ten years—he doesn’t believe his senses that it’s actually you. But it is. 

“Please,” you whisper, mildly embarrassed and suddenly very conscious of yourself as you dip your head and smooth your gown. “No one has called me that in years. (Y/N) is fine.” You sound as if you’re going to cry from nerves—definitely not how you had been just a minute earlier speaking with someone in the crowd. It might slip past someone else, but not Matt. He knows you, no matter how long you’ve been apart.

Matt’s face shifts from surprise to something he can tell you can’t quite put your finger on. “You . . . How have you been? I mean, I’d assume well judging by the scale of tonight and your role in it all.”

“‘Well’ isn’t the word I’d use to describe it.”

His brows furrow. “C’mon, (Y/N/N). Everyone that’s here is because of you and the work you’ve done. This . . . This is more than you could’ve ever dreamed of when we were at Columbia. You’re doing more than Foggy and I could hope to achieve in our entire career.”

“‘Well’ isn’t happy.”

“You’re not happy?”

You give him a sad smile. “I fit into the mold of the perfect Upper East Side darling: went to private schools, society debut, got my degree, worked to established a successful career, got married. Unlike my fellow wives of the Upper East Side, though, my marriage ended in death instead of divorce. Besides, this isn’t anywhere near the work I hoped I’d be doing. ‘Well’ is just a mask I have the burden of putting on everyday.”

Matt’s eyebrows pull down, his heart sinking to his stomach. “You’re not happy,” he breathes softly, pain and sadness painted all over his face.

“I’m not,” you admit, holding back tears to save face. “I haven’t been in years. We talked about it at Columbia—this life wasn’t what I wanted. I was naive to think I could have anything different. But at some point . . . My happiness stopped mattering. It wasn’t important. I just needed to become the woman I was expected to be, and I did.”

“Angel.” He moistens his lips. “Your happiness does matter. When you’re happy . . . (Y/N/N), it lights up the people around you. It’s infectious, it’s like sunshine, it’s . . . It’s why I fell in love with you in law school.”

That sentence is a knife to the heart, and the slight shift in your stance tells Matt that he knows what he just did was not the best move.

“It’s a shame it wasn’t enough to keep us together, then.”

Your words kill him, but no matter how they hurt, he knows they’re true. “(Y/N/N)—.”

“Do you know when I first fell in love with you, Matt?” He just looks at you as he holds on to his cane. Nervous. Fragile, even. “Two weeks in, fall semester, first year of Columbia. We were studying in the library, and it was late. You could tell I was losing steam and giving up, and you took my mind off things and cheered me up by balancing a ruler on that huge, beautiful nose of yours like a goddamn otter. The way you smiled when I laughed . . . That man who had a passion for the law, wanted to help those that needed it most, fiercely loyal, he’s who I fell in love with. He’s who I thought would stand beside me through anything. He just never felt the same, no matter much I wished he did.” That salt Matt tastes in the air tells him that you desperately want to cry right there in the middle of the party no matter who is around, but you catch the eye of someone else in the room—a silent savior in the conversation. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go mingle with guests. It was lovely to see you tonight, Matthew.”

“(Y/N/N), wait, please—.”

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

Matt’s frozen as he listens to you walk away, interacting with the people at the party as if your conversation never happened. He feels a hand rest on his shoulder before it slowly runs down his arm and hooks in the crook of his elbow. 

“We need to go,” Elektra whispers. “Now.”

Gently tugging him along, Matt feels like he’s having an out of body experience. He doesn’t want to leave, not with you here, not when every fiber in his being is telling him to stay and catch up, talk, try and fix what was lost—what he broke—during your last year at Columbia. Unfortunately, his shock and awe at seeing you again is perfect for Elektra to use to drag him out of the building and into the car waiting for them, giving the driver a new address. 

“Well, I was only able to recover part of the files, thanks to someone getting distracted. But, I read some notes on a desk calendar, and the portion of the files that we really need are—.”

“Did you know this was (Y/N)’s company’s party? Did—.” His blood runs cold at the thought that crosses his mind. “Does she know what she’s involved in?”

“She’s not involved at all. One of the charities that her company supports is involved—someone higher than her has their signature all over the paperwork. She is in the dark.”

“Then we need to protect her. We—.”

“The best way to protect her is to take down the Hand. She’s fine, Matthew.”

“No, she’s not. (Y/N/N) . . . Tonight, she was like a ghost of the woman I knew in law school,” Matt tells Elektra. 

“She’s fine.”

“She’s not.”

“She made choices and is living with them. She’s fine.”

He feels shell shocked. Everything is telling him that that couldn’t have been you, even though all signs point to yes. “Those weren’t her choices. I could’ve been there for her—I should’ve been there for her to tell her that what she wanted was important and mattered more than what her parents thought. I . . .” He hangs his head in shame. “I let myself get distracted by something that didn’t matter.”

“Matthew—.”

“Her life could’ve been so different if I stayed with her. My life could’ve been different.”

“It would have been a life you hate. When you have someone like that . . . it doesn’t matter what you do. Their status will take precedence. Any life different than that that tries to mesh with it . . . It would go up in flames, no matter how hard one tries.”

“I could’ve made her happy, Elektra. I could have at least made sure that she was okay all these years, something. But I abandoned her. And I never told her why.”

“It’s not like she didn’t land on her feet. Besides, it never would have worked between you two.”

There’s something different in her voice that Matt can’t quite put his finger on, but it fills him with rage.

“You don’t know her like I do—did. We would have made it work, we could have done it. Status be damned, she—.”

“Your big heart is blinding you more than you already are. You don’t get it. It’s not just her social standing. You’re too different personality wise. Do you really think she could handle what you do in your spare time? Don’t you think that would shatter her, tear you two apart?”

“She’s part of the reason I started doing this!” Matt snaps. “She . . . Having any kind of relationship doing what I do is difficult. It wouldn’t matter if she was completely in the dark or out with me every night. (Y/N) would stay. It would work with us. I know it. She wouldn’t give up on me.”

He senses Elektra’s 180 shift in her demeanor. “Fine. You can have your movie moment with her, but you finish this with me first.“ She shifts in her seat. “I’m telling you it won’t last. You say I don’t know her, but I do, Matthew. And she will leave you broken because she never will be able to accept all of you.”

“You know, maybe she wouldn't. Maybe it wouldn’t last. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I never tried to repair that bridge.”

“Your heart will always be your Kryptonite, Matthew. Mark my words.”

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[scrompsautobotsrchives]

Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee

Part 1 of the many more rewrites to come, This will allow me to make them the very best that they can be. Word count:1.5K

It's official !! You walked out of the DMV as proud as you can, you had officially gotten your license to drive. Your dad was super duper proud of you. He knew you would ace it after a few goes. Soon the day after your 16th birthday, he kept a deal with you, If you managed to get good grades before the summer started. He would help you get your first car.

You made it to the used car dealership. God, there are so many options to choose from. What do you pick first?

"Hello welcome to mirage automotives !!" The dealer greeted you and your dad.

"Hi, What would be the best starter car for a kiddo that had just gotten their license ??" He smirked at you playfully.

"Dad" You grumbled, turning slight pink.

"That's perfect. We do have some very good Toyota Corolla's..." The dealer tried to sweeten the deal.

But they didn't quite scream take me home, They were all pretty av. But as you walked by, you came across a bright yellow colour. It pierced the side of your eye. Looking over your eyes were in a little state of wonder, A 1977 Chevrolet Camaro.

You went over and got a proper look on the inside, this was almost practically in mint condition, How long has it been in here ??

Your dad saw you and slightly grimaced, he would know these types of cars would be super expensive.

"Y/n ?? You sure you don't want to look at some of the Ford's ??"

"Could we take a look at this ??" You looked up at him with soft pleading eyes.

"You sure ?? I know you kids want cool cars but... Don't you want something sturdy ??"

"I know But it's just a look"

So he let you do your own thing, Wow the being inside the car was even better than the outside. Oh this was talking your language.

The dealer saw you two and strutted over. "She's a beaut ain't it ??"

"She is" You smiled

"Tell you what, cause you gotten your license, $2000" He offered.

You looked at the dealer and your dad, Please !!!!!!

Your dad could only chuckle, oh alright, for his kiddo.

Once the paperwork was all sorted, he happily handed you the keys and you were officially on your way.

"Thank you Dad... thank you so much !!" You had a beaming smile.

"You better not ding this car up" He playfully chuckled and ruffled your head.

"I won't"

You soon began the drive out of the parking lot, making your way back home. The drive was as smooth as butter. You then reached over and tried to turn on the radio, but it started to act strange... it whirred and scratched, jumping stations.

"Weird" You turned it off.

"If that guy ripped me off..." Your dad frowned slightly.

"I'm sure he didn't, It might just need to be upgraded. Besides the car works is what matters the most" You smiled, trying to reassure him.

He smiled a little. "You're right, it is, thank goodness for that"

And so over the summer, you began to perform various upgrades and much-needed maintenance to the car. It was honestly so much fun. Your whole summer was practically this car, and soon you put the final piece to the puzzle. A brand new radio, hopefully, it'll work... But even when school finally started, you were puzzled by the radio still scratching and whirring all over the place. Not only that, new problems started to arise, The pedals would sometimes not work, gears would change, and even the speedometer was all over the place.

So before school, you took it back to the dealership to ask some questions.

"Hey hi, umm I bought this car last summer and I've done a good amount of upgrades to it, but it seems to be having some issues ??"

"What seems to be the issue ??" The mechanic wiped his hand and looked over the car.

"The radio is just jumping without me turning the dial, The pedals get stuck, Gears change and the speedometer just goes..." You mimicked how it went.

"I'll take a look at it"

You handed him the keys and waited outside the shop, about half an hour later he came back to you with your car.

"Everything looks fine on our end." he handed you back the keys.

Over time, you were just getting more and more frustrated, more problems were starting to arise and you were on the brink, One afternoon, you came back to the car after school and turned the ignition to start it. Nothing... again... nothing, third times a charm, it worked but the speedometer was wonky yet again.

You groaned and began to bang on the dashboard in frustration. "What's wrong with you !!!" You shouted at the top of your lungs.

But then... the engine stopped.

Wait... hang on... cars were not meant to do that.

You frowned as you watched the radio begin to flick a few stations before playing a snippet of a song. "It's nothing wrong with me..."

"What the..." Your car was haunted.

The radio scratched again, playing more strung-together dialogue. Was it... Trying to talk to you ??

Not bad kid..." It said once you figured it out.

You tried to calm yourself and looked around, before back at the radio. "What are you ??" You spoke hesitantly.

"I am... from space !!" It scratched again.

"An alien ??"

An audio of applause was playing. Holy shit... an alien car.

"Why are you here..."

But before the alien car could answer that, you jolted at the sound of something hitting the windscreen, a cup of not-so-nice liquid. Courtesy of your bully.

"Missed a spot L/n" He laughed as he fist bumped his friends.

You growled and flipped him off before the radio began to scratch and play an audio from over the summer, it was your voice telling them off... what in the Ai is this !!

But this riled the bully up, and he walked over to try and get you out, before the car soon began to start and drive on its own, revving out of the parking lot and on the road.

"Shit shit !!!!!!" You tried to hang on from all the drifts and turns as the bully and his friends chased you. Ok, you were gonna be sick. Soon you arrived at an abandoned building after making a different turn, hopefully, they wouldn't find you... oh, come on !!

His friends quickly got you out before you could do anything and sealed off any exits. "You think you're a tough one aren't you l/n ??" Your bully smirked before punching you in the gut.

This went on for a little while, and the alien car saw this time after time after time since school started, he was saddened that no one stood up for you, hence why he did what he did earlier.

So It revved its engine super loudly, scaring the bullies. He went over to the car and ripped the door open, only to find no one inside it... then how...

Suddenly the door slammed shut on his fingers, making him scream out. "Goddamn it !!"

You watched as his friends tried to get his fingers out of the door but it didn't seem to budge until the door swung open knocking them back. But then came the most strange thing of all. The car soon began to shift and transform, massive hands pushing against the ground, it's body rearranging and coupling to stand tall in a new format.

Your bullies friends soon bolted, fuck this shit, they didn't sign up for it.

The alien soon then shifted his arm into what looked like an arm canon. Aiming it at the bully who was now crying.

"Leave... them... alone..." It talked through the radio.

"Screw you !!" It yelled at the alien before it revved up, the arm cannon soon began to hum and glow. "Alright alright !! I'll leave them alone !!"

The arm cannon soon stopped and shifted back into a hand, But just for good measure, you saw the oil filter lid open up and pop out, soon spraying oil all over your bully. He had enough, soon he ran back to his car and drove off.

"Hasta lavista baby" The radio scratched the familiar Arnie dialogue.

You got up slowly and looked up at it... this was crazy... and it stood up for you... It soon looked at you, making you stand back... but it was a more soft look, like it was happy to see you.

"Who are you ??"

It's radio scratched. "My name... is... bumblebee" He whirred softly after.

"Bumblebee..." You started to twitch a smile.

He then did a few boxing punches while the radio scratched "I float like a butterfly and sting like a bee" He smiled at you again.

"Thank you..."

You reached out your hand, to which he responded by placing his palm over your hand, In this moment... a friendship was secured.

Taglist: @callofdudes

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Snake Eyes 2

Warnings: noncon coercion, manipulation. Proceed with caution.

Note: thanks all for reading and I hope you’re excited for this one. All feedback is more than welcome and loved and appreciated. Reblogs are most helpful.

Part of The Club AU

You go up to the Cobra Lounge, a large bottle of top shelf vodka in hand. It’s one night. You can handle dealing with rich pricks and carrying around liquor. It’s only really demeaning to put your bar training to waste. Worst, you know it won’t make the night easy for Thor.

In the private room, with its full wall of windows looking down onto the dance floor, you find three men. One sits on the leather couch, knees wide as he strokes the hair along his upper lip; another reclines on the armchair, his feet up on the ottoman as he scrolls on his phone, combing his fingers through his short hair over and over; and the third stands by the windows, like a villain at the apex of Gotham, about to unleash his sinister plot.

“Ah, there she is,” the mustachioed one on the couch sits forward and smirks. His shirt is unbuttoned low on his chest, enough to give a generous view of his pecs.

“She’s new,” the one on his phone comments, not even looking up.

“Disappointing,” the third says to the window, “I rather liked Danica.”

“Was that her name?” The second one scoffs.

“What are you even doing here, Drysdale?” The man on the couch clucks, “you can watch porn at home.”

“I’m doing important business,” he second, Drysdale snarls and blackens the screen of his phone, “market doesn’t stop.”

“Not tonight,” the third warns, “Hansen, what do you think?”

Hansen, in his satin shirt, stands and struts over to the window to gaze out with the other man. You find glasses along the private bar and go about your task. Rich men are rarely easy to serve or please. Nor do they bother to return the favour, in your experience.

“Well, Pine, I don’t see any tens. Maybe a few eights…. Eight and a half tops,” Hansen snickers.

You hide your discomfort as you serve the man still sitting. He accepts his drink with a terse point to the coaster at his elbow. You put the glass there and approach the other. The taller of the two, with the lilt in his voice, thanks you, as the other, Hansen, barely looks at you.

“Gentlemen,” Loki enters as you leave the vodka on the bar. The men paid for the bottle. “Shall we begin?”

“You know, you promised us the pick of the lot,” Hansen pivots and crosses an arm over his chest, his other bent as upward as he smooths his mustache, “not much to pick from if you ask me.”

“Don’t pretend you’re so picky,” Drysdale spouts from his seat, lighting up his phone to check the notifications.

You don’t say a word. You’re not there to tell the douchebags to shut up. You move towards the door but Loki stays in your path. He points you backward.

“Darling, stay,” he demands, lowering his voice as he brushes by, “and do put a smile on.”

You turn and remain by the door as he strides inside. He fits easily among the group. He nears the man at the window, Pine, you think, and scans the crowd below.

“It is early,” Loki insists, “be patient. As it were, you did say there were matters of import to discuss.”

“Matters of import,” Hansen snorts, “this one always sounds like he’s giving a speech from the throne.”

“Ah yes, however I may sound,” Loki spins, “at least I haven’t a broom upon my lip.”

The men sneer at each other. A tension thickens in the air but cracks in an instant as both of the issues manufactured laughter. Ugh, you would much rather be working behind the bar.

“Darling,” Loki gestures to you demandingly. Shit.

You get him a glass of vodka, on the rocks with soda, as you were instructed before you came up. You bring it to him as he lets himself down onto the couch. His eyes meet yours as he does. Hansen rounds the other end of the couch.

“At least she has nice tits,” he picks up his glass, doffing it towards you.

“Mm, always so eloquent,” Loki remarks, but you don’t miss how his eyes drift down before averting completely. You retreat to wait for your next demand.

“Ugh, is this Smirnoff?” Drysdale whines.

“It is on the house,” Loki girds.

“I have money,” he retorts but drinks the vodka without further complaint.

“Otherwise you’d not be here for the big boy talk,” Lloyd retorts, “so let’s get into it. Is this about LA or Miami?”

Loki hums as he sips from his glass. Pine comes to stand behind the couch, tearing his attention from his inspection of the dancers below. Drysdale wiggles his phone between his fingers impatiently.

“Not so far as that,” Loki affirms, “these very walls. An expansion.”

“Which has what to do with us?” Hansen swirls his ice noisily.

“Well, there was some previous talk of investment and I would need a contractor as well,” he looks between the two men sat nearest to him, “and of course, PR.”

The men nod and each sink into a thoughtful lull. You watch dully, unconcerned with the venture, wishing only to be done with listening to their ego stroking.

As you hold back a yawn, your eyes meet a pair of green ones. Loki watches you, tilting his head as you force a smile. He returns his attention to the others.

“This isn’t a funeral,” Loki chides, “it should be a celebration, no?”

[callsignspark]

soft-tober | 05 | Jake Seresin

soft-tober is about experiencing the joys of October with loved ones. each day is a fall-related one-shot for one of the couples from my Dagger, Sword & Shield universe, plus a few extras! today is Jake and Flora with “Trick or treat?” “…Depends on if you’re the treat or not.” from this prompt list.

If you’d like to be tagged for soft-tober, please send an ask!

word count: 1.4k

soft-tober masterlist | main masterlist | divider credit here

warnings: extreme fluff, Jake being a sweetheart, lots of kissing

callsignspark disclaimer: my blog is an 18+ space; minors do not interact - you will be blocked. I do not consent to my work being copied, run through an AI generator, translated, or posted elsewhere. I do have an AO3, where I eventually will be cross-posting my works.

05. “Trick or treat?” “…Depends on if you’re the treat or not.”

“A little to the left… no, right. Left. Right. Don’t you know how to center something, Jake?!”

The blonde man turns on the ladder, eyebrows raised in amusement. “It is centered, Flora. You’re just standing at an angle.”

Her heart drops as she looks around, realizing she is off-center. A couple scoots to the left tells her that Jake does have the wreath perfectly centered on the balcony.

“I’m sorry.” The apology is muffled as she rubs at her eyes. Flora knows she’s being ridiculous, putting way too much effort into decorating for the shop-or-treat the business of Madison Ave are hosting during the fall block party. Staying open later than usual to hand out candy to costumed children while their parents patronize the shops.

She’s trying her hardest to appeal to kids so they’ll drag their parents inside. A florist isn’t exciting to little ones, not when there’s a bakery three doors down and a comic book store across the street. So the décor - a strategic blend of fall and Halloween - is going to be doing the heavy lifting to get people to stay for longer than it takes to put a Snickers in a pumpkin bucket.

Jake climbs down the ladder after securing the wreath in place, wrapping his arms around Flora and pulling her into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” She apologizes again, her face pressed against his strong chest.

“It’s okay.” He reassures her, his warm hands rubbing her back. “I know you’re stressed, but you don’t have to worry about Studio Cacti taking over.”

Studio Cacti. Another florist shop that opened up over the summer only two blocks away. Owned by some snobby girl who was paying the bills with Daddy’s money. Flora felt hypocritical saying that, considering how she paid for the shop’s remodel and the new flower cooler, but she had started all on her own. Scrimping and saving, pouring every available cent into her shop. During that first year, she had even slept on an air mattress in her office, unable to afford the store mortgage and her apartment rent at the same time.

“Yes, I do, Jake. She’s got more money at her disposal than I’ll make in my entire life. When push comes to shove, she’ll win because she can afford it.”

“Trust me, I have a few ideas, and if I can get everything into place, you’ll be the most successful florist in the city, maybe even the county.”

Flora pulls away, tucking her hair behind her ears as she stares at Jake. The smug look on his face should make her wary - should turn her off - but it doesn’t. It makes her feel giddy whenever she sees it; she’s pretty sure he Pavloved her with his bright smile.

“And am I allowed to know about these plans?”

“Nope, just worry about shop-or-treat for now.”

“It’s my shop, Jacob.”

“God, I love when you call me that.”

“Focus.”

The undignified noise that escapes as he squats down and wraps her legs around his waist makes her cheeks burn. Usually, she hates when men try to pick her up, but she never hates when Jake does it. Flora is taken off guard again when he plops her on the counter next to the register, using the distraction to ignore the voice telling her it’s okay when Jake does it because she likes him.

“I am focused, Phillips. C’mere.”

He kisses her just like he did the first time, like he’s done every time. Gentle at first, simply pressing their lips together as he cups her neck, then he tugs her closer, intensity increasing as he tests the waters to see if she wants to go further.

Normally, she’s all in for a good makeout session, one where his big hands will roam and caress her body in just the right way that will lead to them being naked later on, but tonight, she pulls back.

“Can we do a test run?”

“A test- of what?”

“Of shop-or-treat. You go out and come in pretending to be a kid. Use fresh eyes; look for anything that needs improving.”

“You want me to pretend to be a ten-year-old boy?”

“It should be easy; that’s how mature you are.” She regrets the snipe as soon as it leaves her mouth, Jake immediately attacking her sides. Flora holds out for about five seconds, laughter bubbling out as she gives in. “Uncle! Uncle!”

“I just want to put it on record that I think this is a dumb idea because everything is already great, but I’m doing this anyway. For you.”

She hates the way her heart flutters at his wink. They had agreed to be friends-with-benefits, nothing more. Heart thumping was definitely not within the bounds of their agreement. Maybe it was time to end the arrangement.

The bells ring as Jake walks back in, doing exactly what she asked and interrupting her thoughts. Green eyes big and round as he looks around the store like a kid in a candy shop. His eyebrows furrow slightly at different points in the room, and Flora knows he’s making mental notes on what needs to be changed.

She lets him go on for a few minutes, swinging her legs and admiring how his gray t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders. Shoulders that probably still have marks where her nails dug into him a few days ago.

“Aren’t you going to say it?”

“Say what?” He asks as he finishes his examination, standing a few feet in front of her.

“Trick or treat?”

“Well… depends on if you’re the treat or not.” He laughs as she whines his name. “Everything is great. The only thing that’s going to make it better is us finishing what you already had planned.”

“Really?”

“Even the most sticky, snotty-nose brat will want to come into the flower shop with the pretty lady behind the counter.”

Flora’s breath hitches as he crowds into her space, hands tugging her hips closer as their lips meet. She melts into the kiss, sinking her hands into his hair. It’s getting a bit long; he’ll need to get a trim soon so he’s up to regulations, but she loves how it feels between her fingers. He’s the only man she didn’t have to introduce to conditioner, his sisters taking care of that lesson back in high school.

“Excuse me, are you open?”

Her internal debate about whether to hook her legs around him here or pull him up to her office and put the couch to good use is interrupted as they break apart.

“What?” Flora pants, brain still scrambled from how Jake was grabbing at her thighs.

“Are you open?”

“No, ma’am; I’m sorry, we’re not open right now.”

“Oh, that’s too bad! I wanted to get flowers for my daughter, she just gave birth! Lilies are her favorite, and I saw your case through the window. You have the most beautiful options.”

“I’m sorry if you want to come back-”

“Is it your first grandchild?” Jake interrupts, sliding Flora off the counter.

“It is! A little girl!”

“Congratulations!” He smiles, turning to Flora. “Take the sale; I’ll finish decorating.”

A kiss on her forehead, and he’s making his way up the stairs, unraveling leaf garland to wrap around the banister.

She’s only slightly distracted as she puts together a bouquet filled with white lilies, baby’s breath, and eucalyptus for the new grandmother, Jake constantly on her mind. And after cashing out her newest customer and locking the door, Flora makes her way upstairs. Her heart soft as she watches Jake carefully string twinkle lights along the railing he just finished decorating, his tongue poking out in concentration.

“Hey, Jake?”

“Yeah, darlin'?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” His pretty green eyes blink up at her in confusion, and she realizes she’s not quite sure how to answer.

Thank you for helping decorate.

Thank you for understanding about how much I work.

Thank you for accepting that I can only do friends-with-benefits with you.

“Just… for everything.”

“Of course, whatever you need, Flora. You know that.”

She feels herself weakening as he stands up and saunters over to her, his smile so big that his eyes crinkle and his dimples show. This time, Flora doesn’t make a noise when he lifts her; just wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him. The two of them giggling when Jake drops her onto the couch and climbs on top of her, hooking her legs over his hips.

The decorating is so not getting finished tonight… oh well.

@gretagerwigsmuse | @hangmanapologist | @hangmanbrainrot | @princessphilly | @hangmanssunnies | @thesewordsareallihavetogive | @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby | @katieshook02 | @hellojameshowyadoin | @aristotles-butthole | @atarmychick007 | @whatislovevavy | @kmc1989 | @sometimesanalice | @laracrofted | @yuckosworld | @mika-darling | @bradshawsbaddie | @bobblebobsbae | @ohtobeleah | @withahappyrefrain

[mikkomacko]

blurb with nate mack, make it soooo sweet please ❤️🥰☺️

His eyes had been following you all night long. From the moment you met him outside the locker room of Ball Arena, tucked into your white Avs hoodie and leather jacket ready to face the Colorado cold, Nate had stars in his eyes.

He’d put his game-day suit back on, but the top buttons of his shirt were undone and he now wore a wool coat instead of the suit jacket. A beanie that always got left in his car was pulled over his head but his damp blond hair was peeking out from under it, curling up towards his ears like wings.

“Hey,” he simply greeted, right hand coming up to straighten out your necklace. It was a thin gold chain with his number, the 29 now resting comfortably between your collar bones.

You slipped your arms around his waist, stepping into his chest and that right hand now found your lower back, holding you closer.

“Hi,” you replied, tip toeing in your boots to peck a kiss to his lips. “Think you can score that goal a little earlier next time?”

A teasing smirk lifted your lips and you watched the way his eyes followed it, the comforting blue of them lighting up with your smile. “Lucky I didn’t make you wait until a shoot-out.” He replied, knowing how you couldn’t stand the anxiety of watching them.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his little chuckle as he took you by the hand and led you back through the arena to the players parking lot. Most of the guys had left by then, already heading to the roof top bar one of the wives picked for tonight’s celebration. Nate always took the longest to leave after a game, following his diligent and relaxing recovery routine.

By the time the two of you joined the rest of the team downtown, they’d already established a large string of tall tables together and Mikko was drinking champagne straight out of the bottle. He saved two seats for you and Nate, sitting your boyfriend right next to him and letting you sit by the end so you could chat with Mel and Gabe. Of course Gabe and Mikko flittered around, squishing between other chattering teammates or delivering drinks from the bar.

Nate only got up once, kissing the top of your head before heading to the bar. He returned with an espresso martini for you and some light calorie beer for himself. Other than that, he was stuck to his seat with an arm stretched out behind you.

Throughout the night he sipped on his one beer, still sticking to his in-season diet. Even when you needed another martini, he’d send Bo with instructions to put it on his tab, not even sparing the younger boy a glance as he did so.

No he kept his eyes on you. You could feel his gaze on your mouth when you raised your voice over the music to answer Mel or when you laughed along with Susana at the expense of her drunk boyfriend. He watched you fiddle with the number on your necklace, straightening it out or simply rubbing your fingers over the cool metal. But his gaze was never heated, at least not with lust.

It was warm with love.

A glow of morning sun across your cheeks, the rays waking you up after a long night.

“You ok?” You asked him after Susana disappeared to the bathroom with Mel, turning your body towards him until your knees pressed into his spread thighs.

Nate hummed, turning to face you as his eyes flickered over your face like he couldn’t decide where to look. He rested his left elbow on the back of his chair, his foot locking around the leg of yours and he drug you closer.

“Perfect,” he finally replied, fingers finding the loose strands of your hair. He twirled his finger around a lock of curled hair, twisting it around his fingers mindlessly. “You?”

Cheeks flushing with heat, you leaned forward until your nose met his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“You’re being sweet tonight,” you comment, pleasant goosebumps rising on your arms as he continued to play with your hair.

“I’m always sweet.”

You laughed. “Extra sweet, then.”

His chest fumbled with laughter, the breath of his chuckle hot on the crown of your head. Nate stayed quiet and you left him to his thoughts, closing your eyes to simply enjoy the feeling of his body against yours.

You don’t how much time had passed before he pulled you back by the collar of your leather jacket, nudging you to look up at him. Compliant, you met the warmth of his gaze and noticed the way he just seemed to glow extra tonight.

“I love you,” he said, lips curling with a smile. “I don’t think I say it enough but yeah. Love ya kid.”

Giggling, you cupped your hand behind his neck and drug his mouth down to yours.

“Love you more, kid.”

Sealing your lips together, you decided that he does say he loves you enough. But you’ll never complain for him saying it extra.