#but I don't know how to be charming in situations I already don't understand

[yvesette]

WE GOT MARRIED!

ִ ࣪𖤐 ۪ ݁ 𓈒 ── choi seungcheol

SUMMARY: ── the premise of the popular reality show, "we got married," was simple: you and another celebrity would pretend to be married for two weeks, navigating various romantic and domestic challenges together. when your partner turns out to be choi seungcheol however, feelings complicate your perception of reality.

PAIRING: [choi seungcheol (s.coups) x f!reader] GENRE: [eventual smut, domestic fluff, angst, idol!au, fake dating, one bed, all the good shit]

CW: afab!reader, nicknames (angel, babygirl, baby, good girl), arguing (it’s sorted out), soft!dom ?? + pussydrunk cheol, big!dick cheol, fingering, penetration, safe sex (ofc), possessive!cheol, hair pulling, light choking

      ℘　　◌　　﹒　⠀ ꢾ꣒⠀　 ׅ⠀ㅤ　⑅

── pre-show interview:

interviewer: "thank you for joining us today! can you tell us a little about yourself and what initially made you hesitant to join 'we got married'?"

you fiddle with your hands and compose yourself into a smile.

“of course. i’m y/n, and to be honest, when i was first approached about the show, i had a lot of reservations. being an idol, my life is already under constant scrutiny, and the idea of faking a marriage on national television was daunting. i was worried about how my fans would react and whether I'd be able to genuinely connect with my on-screen partner."

interviewer: "what eventually convinced you to participate?"

you think, “it was a mix of curiosity and encouragement from my friends and management. they believed it would be a good opportunity for me to show a different side of myself, one that isn't always visible on stage. plus, the idea of experiencing something as unique as a reality show marriage was too intriguing to pass up."

interviewer: "do you know who your partner will be yet?

you smile nervously, “no, i don't. it’s a complete surprise for me. all i know is that it's someone from a well-known group. i’m really curious to find out who it is!"

interviewer: "that must be exciting! can you share what your ideal type is for the camera?”

you grin thoughtfully, “my ideal type is someone who is kind-hearted and takes care of the people around them. they should have a strong sense of responsibility but also listen and understand. a good sense of humor is a must — oh and physically, i guess i find myself drawn to someone with a warm smile and expressive eyes. someone who can be both charismatic on stage and down-to-earth in everyday life."

interviewer: "finally, do you have any worries or concerns going into the show?"

you: "i’m a bit worried about how awkward it might be at first. there’s always that initial nervousness when meeting someone new, and this situation is quite intense. i hope we can get past that quickly and have a good time together.”

—

day 1:

you stood in front of the door to a luxurious townhome, hands fidgeting nervously at your sides. this would be your new home for the next two weeks. the camera crew gave you a nod, signaling it was time to head inside. taking a deep breath, you open the door and step into the living room, where a warm, cozy ambiance greets you. as you set your bag down, you hear the sound of the front door opening again. you turn, breath caught in your throat, and a man, looking slightly familiar to you, enters the room.

he was wearing a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, paired with dark jeans that accentuated his tall, athletic frame. his broad shoulders and well-defined chest were subtly outlined by the fabric of his shirt, hinting at the strength beneath. the open collar revealed a glimpse of his collarbones, which added an effortlessly sexy touch to his appearance and you thanked god you’d been paired with someone this attractive, as selfish as it sounded. his face was a perfect blend of boyish charm and mature masculinity and his dark hair was styled in a slightly tousled manner.

the man in front of you carried a polite smile. for a moment, you both stood there, slightly taken aback by the reality of the situation.then, as if on cue, you both bowed to each other in polite, awkward unison. "hello!" you said at the same time, voices overlapping. realizing what happened, you both laughed nervously and bowed again, this time with even more formality.

“hi, i’m y/n," you said, smiling despite your nerves.

“i’m seungcheol. it’s nice to meet you,” he said, returning your smile.

there was a brief pause as you both sized each other up, trying to gauge the other's reaction. something about him seemed familiar, but you couldn't quite place it.

your heart skipped a beat as recognition dawned on you and you remembered his face from music and award shows. you were almost certain the man in front of you was a member of seventeen and your mind was almost more eased you were paired with another idol.

as you shook his hand, your mind raced with a million thoughts. should you mention that you know who he is? would it be weird? awkward?

before you could decide, seungcheol spoke again, his voice cheerful and inviting, “i know this is a bit of an odd situation, but let's make these two weeks memorable, okay?”

you nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his face and your cheeks flushed slightly.

the first task was to explore the house together, finding little notes and hints left by the producers about upcoming challenges and activities. as you moved from room to room, seungcheol’s playful nature shined through. he made jokes about the odd decorations and even tried on an oversized apron in the kitchen, to which he realized how easily he could make you laugh.

in the living room, you found a note instructing you to cook your first meal together. seungcheol looked at you with genuine curiosity in his eyes. "do you cook often?"

you shook your head, “i try, but i’m not the best. how about you?”

he shrugged, “i can manage, could you hand me those eggs?”

working side by side in the kitchen, you both stumbled through the recipe, exchanging glances and giggles as you tried to make sense of the instructions. seungcheol’s presence was comforting; his easygoing demeanor made it feel less like a staged activity and you had to remind yourself of your situation every once in a while.

“careful!" you warned as he nearly knocked over a bowl of flour.

“oops," he laughed, catching it just in time. "oh my god, thanks for warning me.”

when the meal was finally ready, you both sat down at the coffee table, a sense of accomplishment and camaraderie settling in.

“you know," he says, his voice low and conspiratorial, "i have to admit, i was a bit of a fan of yours before this."

you almost spit out your food and your eyes widen in surprise, “you were?”

he nodded, a shy smirk playing on his lips. "yeah, i may or may not have listened to…a few, songs.”

you couldn't help but laugh, feeling a rush of disbelief, “well," you said, unable to hide the smile on your face, "i guess we both have some fangirling/fanboying to do then.”

seungcheol chuckled before taking a sip of his drink, “looks like we're off to a good start then."

later that evening, as you both settled on the couch to go over the day's events, you found yourself stealing glances at seungcheol when he wasn't looking. the cameras captured every moment, but by now, they had become background noise. seungcheol’s arm rested casually on the back of the couch, his presence reassuring.

"so what did you think of our first day together?" seungcheol asked, turning to you with a gentle smile.

you smiled back, feeling more at ease now. "honestly , it was fun. a bit overwhelming at first, but i think we handled it pretty well."

he nodded, his expression thoughtful. "yeah , i think so too. it’s all about getting comfortable with each other, right?"

you laughed softly, nodding in agreement. "exactly."

as the night continued, the two of you talked about your experiences in the industry, sharing stories and laughing over funny moments. the more you talked, the more you realized how much you had in common. it was easy to forget the cameras were even there.

—

day 5:

it had been a few days of filming and your arranged marriage with the charming seungcheol was off to an...interesting start. between the awkward getting-to-know-you interviews and staged "newlywed" activities for the cameras, you were still trying to find your footing in this bizarre situation.

one minute, you and seungcheol were bickering like an old married couple over whose turn it was to do the dishes, (it would always end with him insisting he did the chore.) the next, you'd catch him shooting you an ambiguous look from under those ridiculously long lashes, causing a fluttery feeling to erupt in your stomach. it was a constant back-and-forth of feeling flustered yet intrigued by your new husband.

today, the production crew had you and seungcheol participate in a silly pillow fight "challenge" meant to showcase your playful newlywed dynamic. what started off as an innocent, goofy bout of whacking each other with the plush objects quickly devolved into an all-out war.

giggling breathlessly, you launched another fluffy projectile at seungcheol’s head, who had now affectionately insisted you call him cheol.

he taunted with a roguish grin, deflecting your pillow attack.

you both scrambled for ammunition, whacking each other relentlessly. you shrieked as a particularly fierce blow sent you tumbling backwards onto the bed.

in a flash, seungcheol pounced - pinning your wrists above your head as he straddled your waist. his sculpted body pressed against yours, stealing your breath away.

"i win," he murmured huskily, drinking in your flushed, disheveled state. a few dark strands of hair had fallen over his forehead, making him look ridiculously pretty and you both froze as the heated tension reached a tipping point, chests heaving from the exertion of your pillow fight.

then, all at once, realization seemed to wash over both of you. this had crossed a line, strayed too far from the realm of pretend into something that felt a little too real for your comfort. seungcheol quickly released your wrists and rolled off you, running a flustered hand through his tousled hair as the cameras cut and the producers applaud your chemistry ‘played up’ for the show.

“i…sorry, i got a bit carried away there," he muttered gruffly, unable to meet your eyes.

you pushed yourself into a sitting position, clutching a pillow protectively to your chest. “no, it's...yeah, me too," you mumbled, cheeks burning.

as seungcheol swiftly excused himself, you couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper and more complicated had been irrevocably awakened on your end, you watched your fake husband’s broad back retreating towards the door, then he paused and glanced over his shoulder at you.

despite the flustered awkwardness of moments before, his gaze openly raked over your disheveled form in a way that made heat lick through your veins. you clutched the pillow tighter, suddenly feeling very exposed under his molten perusal.

as quickly as the blazing look had appeared, it faded to a neutral expression once more as he gave you a brisk nod. "i’ll...see you later," he murmured in a rough rasp before ducking out of the room, leaving you flushed and wondering what the hell had just happened.

—

day 9:

the sweltering summer heat had prompted the producers to film a scene with you and seungcheol enjoying some relaxation at the rooftop pool.

you tried not to stare too openly as seungcheol stripped off his shirt, revealing a toned, sculpted torso that made your mouth go dry. rivulets of glistening water trailed tantalizing paths down those firm abs as he sank into the cool pool with a contented sigh.

“you coming in or what, y/n?" he flashed you a lopsided grin, sending your pulse into an erratic stutter.

shaking yourself free of your momentary thirst, you made a big show of daintily dipping a toe in to test the temperature, “oh my god it’s freezing.” you step out of the water onto the poolside and shiver from the contact.

cheol arches an incredulous brow at your overly dramatic reaction. then without warning, he kicked up an arched wave that splashed you squarely in the face.

you sputtered in outraged shock as he cackled at your drenched, bedraggled state. you cursed at him and then tilted your head, “oh you’re gonna get it now…”

retaliating, you cannonballed directly towards him, prompting a yelp as he tried dodging the cascading wall of water.

what started as an innocent pool dip quickly devolved into an all-out splash fight, filled with laughter and shrieks, water spraying everywhere. at one point, seungcheol grabbed you around the waist from behind, holding you flush against his chest as you squealed and squirmed playfully...

as the sun dipped low on the horizon, it set the sky ablaze with vibrant shades of orange and red bled across the heavens, intermingling with streaks of brilliant pink and lavender. the surface of the rooftop pool shimmered like liquid amber, endlessly rippling and refracting the spectacular colors above.

as the playful battle subsided, you found yourselves standing chest-deep, catching your breath. seungcheol, hair plastered to his forehead, offered you a sheepish grin. his hand, reaching out to brush a stray strand from your eye, hesitated in mid-air.

the air crackled with a sudden tension, a shift from playful banter to something more intense. you held his gaze, unsure of where this unexpected touch might lead. the playful facade, for a moment, seemed to falter, revealing a vulnerability that sent a shiver down your spine.

as the camera crew wrapped their filming of the segment momentarily, cheol leaned against the pool deck, catching his breath, while you treaded water, a satisfied smile playing on your lips.

“you know," seungcheol said, his voice slightly breathless, "for someone who almost drowned me with pool water ten minutes ago - you’re pretty fun to do this whole fake marriage this with.”

his compliment caught you off guard, a blush creeping up your cheeks. you looked away, fiddling with the straps of your swimsuit and snorted, “you would have survived, trust.”

you bit your lip, “but you’re not…awful, to do this with. i’m glad it was you.”

his biceps flexed as he pushed himself off the wall, the water cascading down his toned arms. he smiled and ran a hand through his hair, which was now drying in messy waves.

you had to admit to yourself, in another situation, he was pretty close to your type. your mind took a sharp turn and a thrilling image of cheol, those big arms holding you close, pinning you down. he could easily manhandle you, and the thought sent a forbidden thrill through you.

taking a deep breath, you forced your gaze away from him, the delicious heat replaced by a cold wave of reality.

—

that evening, the producers insisted that as a "newly married couple," you and seungcheol needed to share the bedroom set for an authentic experience. your heart pounded as the camera crew ushered you both into the dimly lit bedroom, pulling the covers back invitingly.

"alright you two, get nice and cozy for us!" the director called out teasingly. "we’ll get some candid footage of your first night spent in the same room together as husband and wife."

you shot seungcheol an awkward look, but he just gave you a reassuring smile as he slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you close. the cameras rolled as you climbed stiffly into bed together, maintaining a prim distance at first.

however, as soon as the crew lights winked off and you were left in intimate shadows, cheol’s touch grew bolder. his arm snaked more fully around you, hand skimming along your curves as he tugged you flush against his solid frame and he watched your face for approval.

"just go with it for the cameras," he murmured in your ear, making you shiver at the feel of his warm breath fanning your neck.

you gave a shaky nod, trying to ignore the rampant spiraling spawning low in your belly from his nearness. but as the man next to you nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, letting out a contented sigh, you felt yourself instinctively relaxing into his embrace.

before long, the camera crew was dismissing themselves, leaving you and seungcheol tangled together intimately. you started to pull away, murmuring about giving him some space, but his arms only tightened around you.

“stay," he rumbled in that deep velvety tone that made heat curl low in your belly. "please. just for tonight."

you couldn't help but overthink the situation as you lay cocooned in seungcheol’s strong arms later that night. his slow, even breathing tickled the nape of your neck as he slumbered peacefully behind you.

this whole scenario - cuddling intimately, sharing a bed, his persistent insistence that you stay - it was quickly becoming difficult for you to differentiate reality and the fake of your friendship, or whatever you could call it.

realistically, there was no way seungcheol actually had romantic feelings for you, right? you were just some virtual stranger he'd been assigned to act affectionate towards for the sake of entertainment.

no, you reasoned to yourself, cheol was simply an incredibly dedicated performer who happened to be devastatingly good-looking. he was merely playing the role of an infatuated newlywed husband exceptionally well. all those lingering looks, the electrifying touches, the way he'd pulled you insistently into his embrace - it was just him staying committed to the act. you were just a tolerable person for him to pretend to be married to for the cameras. that’s all this was. if you started projecting more meaning onto your partner’s actions, reading into lingering touches and heated glances, you'd only end up getting your hopes up and complicating things.

chewing your lip, you willed yourself not to dwell on the intimacy of your current position - pressed snugly back against his toned chest, legs tangled together, breaths mingling. it didn’t mean anything. he was just...really, really good at making this fake marriage feel real.

you lay there for a long while, keenly aware of every rise and fall of seungcheol’s chest against your back, the whisper of his warm breath fanning your nape. his arm was a solid, heated band around your waist, anchoring you to his slumbering form.

carefully, you began extracting yourself from his arms, trying not to rouse him. he made a soft grumbling sound of protest as you slipped out of bed, his arm reflexively tightening for a moment before falling away. you froze, watching him with bated breath, but he merely rolled onto his back with a gusty sigh, face relaxing back into peaceful slumber.

for a long moment, you simply stood there drinking in the sight of him - all tousled ebony hair, chiseled features, lips slightly parted as he slumbered. your heart gave a powerful thud, desperate longing temporarily overwhelming rationality.

then, you wrenched your gaze away, wrapping your arms around yourself as you crept towards the door on soft feet and went to your separate bedroom. this was for the best. putting some distance between you before things inevitably became more tangled and awkward.

—

day 12:

"you’re burning it!" seungcheol suddenly exclaimed, pointing at the pan on the stove where the sauce was starting to smoke.

by late afternoon, you were both working on preparing dinner in the kitchen. the producers had given you a complex recipe to follow, and the pressure was mounting. seungcheol was chopping vegetables while you tried to manage the stove, but things weren't going as planned.

you glanced over, feeling flustered. "i know, i know! i’m trying to fix it!"

"well, you need to do it faster! we can't serve burnt food," he retorted, his tone sharper than you expected.

you felt a surge of irritation. "why don't you come over here and do it then if you're so concerned?"

seungcheol put down the knife he was holding, his jaw tightening. "i’m just trying to help. there’s no need to get defensive."

you turn off the stove and face him, your frustration boiling over. "it feels like you're criticizing everything i’m doing. this is supposed to be fun but—“ you sigh.

seungcheol’s expression softened slightly, but he didn't back down. "i’m not trying to criticize you. i’m just stressed because i want this to turn out well. we’re both under a lot of pressure.”

his words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. you felt a warmth bloom in your cheeks, a prickling awareness that transcended the confines of the tiny kitchen. it wasn't just the heat from the stove anymore; it was the sudden, electrifying tension that crackled between you.

whatever this "show marriage" was quickly becoming, it was growing increasingly difficult to remember it wasn't real.

his gaze held yours, a storm brewing in his dark eyes. was it just the stress of the competition, or was there something more? maybe it was the way his thumb brushed against yours as he reached for a spatula, a touch that lingered a beat too long. maybe it was the way his voice seemed to drop an octave whenever he spoke directly to you.

the air grew thick, the playful banter of the morning replaced by a charged silence. you weren't talking simply about cooking anymore. this felt like something more, something simmering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

suddenly, a loud clang from the living room shattered the spell. the cameraman had accidentally knocked over a vase, the sound breaking the intimate bubble you'd somehow created. seungcheol offered a grin of reconciliation, the tension momentarily broken.

as you both cleaned up the broken vase, a playful jab exchanged here and there, you couldn't shake the feeling that cheol’s feelings for you mirrored your own. maybe it was just wishful thinking, fueled by the close proximity and manufactured intimacy of the show. but a tiny, hopeful spark ignited within you. perhaps, just perhaps, this fake marriage could be a gateway into something else.

the air crackled with an unspoken apology after your argument in the kitchen. the rest of the day was filmed in a tense silence, punctuated only by the polite pleasantries expected for the cameras. seungcheol stole glances at you every now and then, his gaze laced with regret, but you studiously avoided his eyes.

dinner was a quiet affair, the weight of the fight hanging heavy between you. as the last crew member packed up their equipment and said their goodbyes, a heavy sigh escaped seungcheol’s lips. you remembered you only had two more days left with him before you parted ways and continued your daily, busy lives.

you lean against the doorframe of cheol’s assigned bedroom. he’s reading something foreign and doesn’t notice your presence at first. "hey," you started hesitantly, the artificiality of your fabricated married life suddenly feeling suffocating. he looked up, his eyes filled with a vulnerability you hadn't seen before.

"i shouldn't have snapped at you," he said, his voice rough. "this whole thing... the pressure, the cameras... it just — you know, gets to me sometimes.”

you understood. the world only saw the polished, perfect idols on stage, not the stress and anxieties that gnawed at them behind the scenes. partially this show felt like a risk of balance between speculation and approval. “i know," you admitted softly, surprised at the tremor in your voice. "it gets to me too."

silence settled again, but this time it wasn't tense. it was a comfortable quiet, an unspoken understanding blooming between you.

you took a seat on the mattress and asked him what he was reading.

“amour,” he says, flipping the book over to show you the cover.

“amour?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "isn’t that french for love?"

cheol rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "yeah, it is. found it at the airport bookstore. it’s about a journalist who travels around france asking people about love."

a playful glint sparked in your eyes. "funny," you said, tracing the title with your finger, “didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

a wry smile tugged at the corner of seungcheol's lips. "maybe i’m just curious," he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur that made you nervous. "especially after all this... 'pretend' marriage stuff." he paused, his gaze flickering from the book to your face. "maybe the line between pretending and feeling is a little more blurry than we thought."

he words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. the playful banter you'd used as a shield these past 2 weeks suddenly felt inadequate. you met his gaze, the air crackling with a new kind of tension.

"maybe it is," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

the glint in your eyes softened into something deeper, something that mirrored the sudden intensity in cheol’s gaze. he set his book down on the nightstand with a soft thud, the sound swallowed by the heavy silence that had descended upon the room.

he took a slow movement towards you across the bed, his eyes searching yours with a depth that made your breath catch. you could practically feel the unspoken question hanging in the air, a question your heart already knew the answer to. there was a palpable tension between you, an invisible thread pulling you closer.

without another word, seungcheol closed the remaining distance between you. his hand reached out to cup your cheek, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. his thumb brushed against your soft skin, a gentle caress that spoke volumes. it was as if he was trying to communicate everything he felt in that simple touch, the unspoken emotions and the growing connection between you.

his eyes flickered down to your lips before meeting your gaze again, asking for permission without uttering a single word. you gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, your heart pounding in your chest.

then, he leaned in. the kiss was hesitant at first, a soft exploration that tasted of unspoken longing and a newfound vulnerability. hips lips were warm and tender against yours, moving with a gentleness that made your heart ache and charged with the electricity of forbidden desire and the sweetness of a connection that transcended the cameras and the manufactured reality of your "marriage."

as the kiss deepened, seungcheol’s other hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer. you responded instinctively, your hands sliding up to rest on his broad shoulders. the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that moment. the kiss grew more passionate, an unspoken promise of the bond forming between you.

his fingers threaded through your hair, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss. the heat of his body pressed against yours, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart mirroring your own. every touch, every movement was filled with a mix of tenderness and urgency, a dance of emotions that neither of you could deny any longer.

in one swift movement, seungcheol lifted you onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around you securely. the sudden shift made you gasp, breaking the kiss momentarily. he took advantage of your parted lips, diving back in with a new intensity. his hand tangled in your hair, gripping it roughly as he deepened the kiss. the raw hunger in his actions satisfied a need you’d had since the moment you met him and ignited a new thirst in you for more than a kiss.

his lips left yours, trailing hot kisses down your jaw and neck. seungcheol’s breath was warm against your skin, each kiss sending shivers down your spine. "cheol-ie," you breathed out, your voice shaky with desire. "i’ve needed you so bad.”

he groaned against your neck, the sound vibrating through you and making your core tighten with need. "you have no idea how much I’ve wanted you babygirl,” he murmured, his voice rough with longing. the nickname makes you feel weak in his arms as they roam over your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

you began to move against him, grinding your hips down on his lap. the friction elicited a deep, guttural moan from his chest, his grip on your hair tightening. his lips continued their path along your neck, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin. each touch, each kiss, was driving you both closer to the edge.

your hands slid under his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours and see the body you’d thought about and fantasized about at the pool. his muscles tensed under your touch, and he let out another low groan. the sound sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, making you grind harder against him.

feeling the need for more, you reached for the hem of your top, and without hesitation, cheol’s hands followed suit, helping you remove the garment until it fell forgotten to the floor. his eyes drank in the sight before him, the intensity of his gaze sending a thrill through you. with a passion that matched your own, he leaned in to capture your lips in a feverish kiss, his movements urgent and commanding.

seungcheol’s hands moved to your breasts, his touch sending electric pulses of pleasure coursing through your body. his lips followed suit, trailing hot kisses down your neck and collarbone before finding their way to your exposed skin. the sensation of his warm mouth on your sensitive flesh made you gasp, a moan escaping your lips as you arched into his touch.

as he sucked and massaged your breasts with a hunger that bordered on desperation, you couldn't help but whine his name, the sound echoing in the room like a symphony of desire.

his only response was a deep, guttural groan, the sound vibrating through you.

cheol’s hands moved to your hips, guiding your movements and matching your rhythm. the sensation of his hardness pressing against you was intoxicating, heightening the desire coursing through your veins. “i need you," he whispered hoarsely against your neck, his breath hot and heavy.

you pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. the intensity you saw there took your breath away. "i need you too, cheol," you whispered back, your voice filled with the same raw need.

"show me," he commanded, his voice dropping to a low, authoritative tone. "show me how much you want me."

you bit your lip and your mind was urging you to shed the last remnants of clothing separating you from seungcheol’s touch. with a sense of urgency, you sat up, for just a moment to rid yourself of your pajama shorts and panties. he gently helped you slip out of the remainder of your clothes until you were completely bare in front of him.

as you returned to straddle him, seungcheol’s eyes darkened with possessiveness, his slightly dumbfounded gaze raking over your exposed form with undisguised lust. you reached for his hand, guiding it to where you needed him most.

his fingers moved in circles with a skill and reverence that bordered on worship. as he teased and caressed you with one hand, his other grabbed the back of your neck to pull you into his orbit.

"cheol," you gasped, your voice filled with need as his touch sent waves of pleasure crashing over you. "pl-please, want you inside of me..”

his response was a low, guttural growl, the sound sending shivers down your spine. he pressed his fingers against your throbbing center, the sensation driving you crazy, and leaned against your ear, “i know angel, i know, need to prep you.”

he slipped two long fingers inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. you couldn't help but arch impossibly back into his touch, a high pitched moan escaping your lips as he filled you completely. his fingers curled inside you and slipped in and out, stretching you and sending waves of pleasure over you that you could feel building closer and closer to your climax.

cheol pulled your face closer to his by your neck as he pumped his fingers in and out of you and whispered in his deep voice words of praise, “you’re so good for me.” his voice was rough in responsive to your obedience.

“such a good girl.”

the words sent a thrill through you, and your breathing that had gotten more quick by the second let all the air escape from your lungs as you completely gave in to the sensations in your body. you reached your peak screaming his name and collapsing onto the bed with your back. now on top of you, cheol guided you down from your high, and his movements became slower and more gentle until his fingers pulled out of you.

you felt his hand move to your lips, gently pressing against them. with a mix of hesitation and curiosity, you parted your lips, allowing cheol to guide his fingers inside your mouth so you could taste yourself.

“that’s it babygirl,” he said, a low groan escaping his lips. the sight of you, so willing and eager for his touch, only fueled the fire burning inside of him. he pulls his fingers from your mouth to press gentle kisses on your lips and your cheek - a sharp contrast from the intensity that had taken over him before.

as the passion of the moment continued to build, you couldn't help but notice the unmistakable hardness pressing against your thigh. seungcheol’s arousal was evident, his desire matching your own in its fervor. a surge of need washed over you, and you found yourself craving him in a way that was almost overwhelming.

desperation clawed at your insides, urging you to beg for him, to plead with him to take you in his arms and fuck you until you saw stars. but as you glanced into his eyes, you saw a flicker of uncertainty, a hint of fear lurking beneath the surface.

you reached for him, your fingers tracing the outline of his arousal through his pants. the intensity of his desire was palpable, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you. you wanted him, needed him, in a way that bordered on obsession. but as you moved to undo his pants, you felt him hesitate, his hands shaking slightly. "i…i don’t know if i can," he whispered hoarsely, his voice filled with a sigh.

you whispered, your voice soft and filled with sincerity. "i want this, with you."

a flicker of relief flashed across his features, his shoulders relaxing slightly at your words. but the worry still lingered in his eyes, the fear of causing you pain evident in every line of his expression. he reached down to free his member from the confines of his sweatpants, discarding the clothing with a swift movement. as his length sprang free, you couldn't help but gasp at the sight before you. he was almost comically big, his arousal standing proudly against his abdomen, thick and pulsing with desire.

a mix of excitement and nervousness coursed through you as you watched him, desire pooling low in your belly. you couldn't help but wonder how he was going to fit inside of you, the thought sending a thrill of anticipation racing through you. seungcheol reached for his wallet on the nightstand, retrieving a condom with practiced ease and slipped it on.

cheol lifted your legs over his head, moving himself between them, a gasp escaped your lips at the sudden change in position. you felt him slowly enter you, his size stretching you in a way that was both exhilarating and slightly painful. the stretch stung, sending a jolt of sensation coursing through your body, but it was unlike anything you had ever felt before. he had to be the biggest you'd ever had, filling you completely and leaving you breathless with desire.

“‘s-so big,” was all you could breathe out with awe in your voice.

“you’re so fucking tight,” he murmured with both hands holding your legs over his shoulder so he could stretch you out as much as possible. bottoming out, he studied your face for signs of discomfort and deciding he could move. as seungcheol began to thrust gently at first, you felt his movements cautious and tender, as if he were testing the waters. each slow push and pull sent waves of pleasure rippling through you, his size stretching you in ways that ignited a fire deep within.

“feels so fucking good, your perfect pussy…” he groans into your neck.

you couldn't help but vocalize how good you felt as well, “don’t stop baby, please.”

something about that nickname makes his movements became more urgent, more desperate, as he surrendered himself to the pleasure of being inside you. with each thrust, you felt yourself being pushed closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable crescendo. his thrusts became rougher, more dominant, as he took control of the rhythm. with a growl of desire, he reached for your throat, his grip firm but not constricting.

the sensation of his hand around your neck sent a shockwave of pleasure coursing through you, the combination of pleasure and pain driving you wild with desire. "who makes you feel this good?" he demanded, his voice rough with need.

you gasped at the sensation, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. "you," you screamed, your voice filled with rawness. "It's you, cheol."

he flipped you over onto your hands and knees, positioning you perfectly for him to take you from behind. you gasped at the sudden change in position, the feeling of vulnerability and excitement coursing through you. but before you could react, seungcheol’s hands were on you, grabbing your ass possessively as he pulled you towards him. the sensation of his grip on your flesh sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine, curved for him to hit your perfect angle.

as you thought you couldn't take any more, you felt his hand tangle in your hair, pulling you back towards him with a force that left you breathless. “want you to be mine..” he choked out, his words claiming you.

“‘m yours," you gasped, your voice surrendering yourself completely. with a final, desperate thrust, cheol buried himself deep inside you, sending you both hurtling over the edge into ecstasy. pleasure exploded through every nerve ending in your body as you both reached the peak together, your cries of passion mingling in the air as you rode out the waves of bliss together.

seungcheol slowly withdrew from you and as you caught your breathe, he removed the condom, discarding it thoughtfully before turning his attention back to you. his demeanor shifted, his previous intensity giving way to a tender concern. leaning in, he pressed soft kisses to your tired face, his touch gentle and reassuring. "are you okay?" he whispered, his voice filled with genuine concern as he traced a soothing hand along your sweaty cheek.

you nodded, a contented smile gracing your lips as you bask in the warmth of his affection.

he tenderly cleaned you with a warm, damp cloth that he quickly fetched from the bathroom, his movements gentle and careful as he ensured tour comfort. once satisfied, he disposed of the cloth and returned to your side, pulling the covers over the both of your naked bodies.

you lay in each other's arms, the quiet of the room enveloping them like a comforting embrace. the air was filled with a sense of contentment but also questions rang through your mind. unable to contain your curiosity any longer, you spoke up. "cheol, earlier... did you mean what you said?" you asked, her voice tentative yet filled with hope.

seungcheol turned to you, his gaze soft yet filled with meaning. “every word," he replied, his voice steady and sure. “if you want — then you’re mine, and i’m yours.”

your mind buzzed with uncertainty and you sigh, snuggling closer to him. the realization that your time together on the show was fleeting weighed heavily on your heart, casting a shadow over the intimacy you had shared.

"seungcheol," you begin, switching from the nickname you’d been using. “i can’t help but wonder...after filming ends, what happens to us? we haven't known each other for long, and...” you gnawed at your lip, “what if we’re just caught in the moment?”

his expression faltered, a flicker of hurt flashing across his features at your words. he had been so certain of your connection, so confident in the depth of your feelings for each other, that your doubts came as a painful blow.

he reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he gently cupped your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. "caught in the moment?" he repeated, his voice filled with an anxiety-ridden tone you had never heard before. "is that really what you think this is?"

your chest clenched at the anguish in seungcheol’s eyes, the weight of your words settling heavily between the two of you. you hadn't meant to hurt him, hadn't realized the impact your doubts would have on him.

"no, seungcheol, that's not what i meant," you hurried to explain, sitting up — your voice thick with regret. "i just... i’m scared. scared that what we have isn't enough to survive once the cameras stop rolling."

seungcheol sat up, shoulders slumped, the weight of your uncertainty pressing down on him like a boulder. "i need some time to think," he said, his voice strained. without another word, he stood up, dressed himself with the clothes he’d discarded on the floor as you protested, and left the room, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing through the silence.

you curled up under the covers, the emptiness of the room amplifying the loneliness you felt.

—

day 13:

the next morning dawned with a heavy sense of awkwardness hanging in the air. as you emerged from your room, the weight of last night’s conversation still pressed on your chest. cheol was already in the kitchen, his back turned to you as he prepared breakfast. the usual warmth and easy smiles were conspicuously absent.

"good morning," you said softly, trying to break the tension.

"morning," he replied flatly, not turning to face you. his tone was distant, a stark contrast to the intimate moments you had shared just hours before.

breakfast was a quiet affair, the silence between you filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. every clink of cutlery felt amplified, every glance avoided a reminder of the rift that had formed.

filming started shortly after, the crew bustling around to set up the day’s scenes. you and seungcheol went through the motions, but the chemistry that had once made your interactions effortless now felt forced. the cameras captured your strained smiles and awkward pauses, the tension between you palpable.

by the end of the day, the weight of the unspoken words and unresolved tension was nearly unbearable. as the crew packed up and the lights dimmed, you felt a deep sense of despair settle in. the connection that had once felt so strong now seemed fragile.

the newly familiar routine of brushing your teeth and changing into pajamas felt strangely hollow without seungcheol’s presence by your side. as you slipped under the covers, the cool sheets seemed to amplify the emptiness of the space beside you.

—

day 14:

the next day dawned with a sense of finality, the knowledge that it was the last day of filming adding a layer of bittersweet tension to the air. you went through your morning routine mechanically, each action feeling heavy with the weight of the unspoken words and unresolved emotions between you and your fake husband.

the filming started early, the crew bustling around to capture the last few scenes of your time together. you and seungcheol interacted politely, tension still lingering. you found yourself stealing glances at him, wishing for a moment alone to bridge the gap, but the demands of filming left little room for personal conversations. the day moved swiftly, and before you knew it, it was time for the post-show interview.

—

post-show interview:

you sat in the brightly lit room, the camera trained on you as the producer asked the final questions. the weight of the moment pressed on you, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves.

interviewer: "so, how do you feel now that the show is ending?”

her voice was gentle but probing.

you paused, considering your words carefully. "its been an amazing experience," you began, your voice trembling slightly. "i’ve learned so much about myself and about what i want in a relationship. and...i’ve come to care for seungcheol deeply. more than i expected."

the interviewer leaned in, sensing the depth of your emotions.

interviewer: “can you elaborate on that? how has your relationship with seungcheol evolved?"

you nodded, your heart pounding. "at first, it was just about getting to know each other, but as the days went by, i found myself feeling…a certain way about him. he’s kind, supportive, and has this way of making me feel seen and valued. i’ve realized that i fell for him and that my feelings were real.”

a pang of regret hit you, remembering your doubts and the hurt in cheol’s eyes. you wondered if you should share your feelings fully, fearing the consequences of the media. but then, you decided—if there was a chance that he would see this interview when the show aired, perhaps he would understand the depth of your feelings and know that you regretted your words.

“i’ve fallen for seungcheol," you confessed, your voice breaking slightly. "and i regret the doubts i voiced. i wish i could take them back. i hope... i hope he can see how much he means to me."

the interviewer smiled softly, sensing the raw emotion in your words and the scoop she had just gotten. “thank you for sharing that," she said gently. "it’s clear that this experience has been transformative for you."

—

the weeks after the show wrapped up were a whirlwind of activity as you dived back into your work. your agency had announced a comeback, and preparations were in full swing, leaving little time for anything else. yet, despite the hectic schedule, thoughts of seungcheol lingered in the back of your mind, a constant undercurrent to your busy days. you cherished the rare quiet moments in your dorm, where you could catch up with your girl friends or simply relax. even during these times, you found yourself checking your phone, hoping for a message from the person you longed for. as the days passed with no word, a sense of uncertainty grew, mingled with the hope that he would reach out once the show aired.

when the show finally did air, you watched your post-show interview with bated breath, wondering how seungcheol would react. the raw honesty of your confession, the vulnerability you had shown, left you feeling exposed but kept you waiting next to your phone.

then, the call came. hearing cheol’s voice, filled with emotion and understanding, was like a balm to your weary heart. his words of reconciliation and his desire to give your relationship a real chance were everything you had hoped for. the prospect of meeting him off-camera, to explore your connection without the pressures of the show, filled you with a renewed sense of excitement and somewhat worry.

the next day, you found yourself standing outside a small, cozy café, your heart racing with anticipation. the door opened, and there he was—your same old cheol, looking just as nervous and hopeful as you felt.

he smiled as he saw you, a genuine, heartfelt smile that made your heart flutter. "hey," he said softly, stepping closer.

"hey," you replied, your voice quiet and your eyes watery.

without another word, he pulled you into a hug, holding you close. the warmth of his embrace, the familiar scent of him, it all felt right.

you both sat down, ordering drinks and talking about everything and nothing. the conversation flowed easily, the tension from the show slowly melting away as you reconnected on a deeper, more personal level.

"i’ve been thinking about you every day," he confessed, his hand reaching out to cover yours. "i want to explore this, see where it leads. no cameras, no scripts—just us."

you nodded, tears of happiness glistening in your eyes. "i want that too, cheol. i want us to have a real chance."

as seungcheol and you left the café, a small crowd had gathered outside, eager to catch a glimpse of the two of you together. camera flashes illuminated the sidewalk as fan-sites and news networks alike snapped photos, their interest palpable in the air. reporters shouted questions, their voices blending into a cacophony of speculation about your relationship.

online, netizens dissected every detail, analyzing photos and videos from the show and your recent café outing. comments and posts flooded social media platforms, with hashtags trending worldwide. the public's curiosity and excitement seemed to know no bounds as they speculated about the nature of your relationship.

cheol took to his instagram, posting a photo of the two of you holding hands outside the café with a quote from “amour,” the novel he had read previously.

— “ there will come a time when you believe everything is finished; that will be the beginning. “

—

end.

[matt-murdockk]

Sweet Nothing

pairing: matt murdock x reader

words: 5.1k

warnings: cussing, slow-burn, angst if you really squint but it's just fluff mostly, lack of proofreading (rip), pretty descriptive making out

summary: This is the story of how Matt Murdock met the love of his life one fateful day at the NYPD precinct.

a/n: guess who finally learned out how to make emdashes on Mac— hehehehe. some fluffy slow-burn for you <3 (i tried not to use pronouns for the reader but I'm so sorry if i accidentally used she/her anywhere)

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While Matt was charming, romantic, and thoughtful, historically— he hasn't been the best at relationships. Flings were okay, short-term was fine, but a proper relationship? Matt didn't think he deserved to be in one until he met you.

To him, you were a breath of fresh air from all his previous exploits. Elektra was a rush of adrenaline, a thrill, certainly an experience, but he knew he didn't like the side of him that she brought out. Karen was too close a friend to lose over a relationship and Claire, well, he had way too much respect for her, he wouldn't do that to her.

You, on the other hand, were what he swore was the right person at the right time. The right amount of calm and the right amount of chaos. He didn’t go looking for you. But you found each other anyway— almost by accident, almost like it was fate.

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A regular phone call from Brett Mahoney about a possible case for Nelson & Murdock brought Foggy and Matt to the precinct one day. From outside, Matt quietly observed you before going in. You were in the holding cell, handcuffed, busted lip, and bruised knuckles. For all that you looked like you'd been through, Matt noticed that you were oddly calm.

Brett opened the door to let Matt and Foggy inside, the confusion in your face did not go unnoticed by the people in the room. "10 minutes, Foggy." The door shut behind him as he left, giving them a knowing look.

"You know it, Brett." Foggy helped Matt into his seat and took the empty seat beside him.

"Miss (Y/l/n), my name is Matt Murdock, this is my associate Foggy Nelson." Foggy gave you a half wave and smiled.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Before we begin, have you been assaulted while in custody?"

"No, I have not. Listen, I didn't ask for a lawyer."

"We understand that you have been accused of assaulting a police officer. You have opted not to seek legal representation, is that right?"

"First of all, there has been a huge misunderstanding. Secondly, I still don't know why you're here, Mr..."

"Murdock," he reminded you.

"Right. Murdock. Sorry."

"We run a practice at Hell's Kitchen. Our firm is interested in representing you. And please, call me Matt," he clarified, presenting a warm, genuine smile.

"Well, Matt, while I am certainly thankful for your interest in representing me, I'm sorry to disappoint you, I don't need a lawyer."

"Trust me, you're going to," he said, amused at your confidence that you'll be fine.

"Oh, I know, I just already have one."

"Well, our job here's done. No cigars for Bess next time," Foggy retorted, as he got up, ready to leave.

"Foggy, sit down. Miss (Y/l/n)—"

"(Y/n), please."

"Very well. (Y/n), I understand that you already have representation. Probably from a big-time firm with 5 times the number of defense attorneys than we do. But here’s the thing. Those firms? They see cases. Numbers. Profiles. Headlines. They’re already calculating how your situation fits into their win column. I don’t work like that. My firm doesn’t work like that. We don’t take every case. We don’t chase the press. What we do is show up— completely. We sit down, we listen, and we fight like hell for the people who trust us. No fluff. No posturing. Just the work, and the truth, and someone in your corner who actually gives a damn about what happens to you next. So if you want the machine— fine. But if you want someone who’s going to look past the charges, past the headlines, and actually see you? Then you want Nelson and Murdock."

"Wow, okay, so, great sales pitch, love the energy, I really do. There's just one problem."

"What is it?"

"My boss is already on his way to represent me."

"I'm sorry— Boss?" " Yeah, what is it you do, exactly?" enquired Foggy.

"I'm a senior associate at Pearson Hardman."

"Well, that crashed and burned splendidly. Happy now, Matthew? We're poaching clients now. Oh and not just from any firm. No, sir. From Pearson fucking Hardman, Unbelievable."

"Foggy, it's okay. So, (Y/n), is your boss any good? Or..."

"I work for Harvey Specter."

"And that's our cue to leave."

Matt finally admitted defeat and got up to leave, following Foggy who was already at the door. While he was certainly ambitious, he knew he couldn't compete with that.

"Thank you for your time, (Y/n)."

As Matt turned toward the door, he caught the subtle quickening of your heartbeat— hesitant, uncertain, like you were rethinking your decision. His hand was just about on the doorknob, ready to leave but not quite gone, when your voice stopped him.

“Wait.”

Out of your line of sight, he let the faintest smirk curl at his lips. He just loved being right.

“What is it?” Matt asked, turning back to face you.

You hesitated for a beat, eyes flicking between him and Foggy, then down to your bruised hands in your lap. “I... I want you guys to represent me.”

Foggy blinked, taken off guard. “Really? Just like that?”

You exhaled slowly, the edge of defiance in your tone softening into something a little more tired. “Let’s just say… I’ve worked long enough at firms that care more about damage control than people. I don’t want a firm that’s already prepping their PR statement. I want someone who’ll actually give a shit.”

Matt nodded once, quietly. His expression didn’t change, but there was something solid behind it. Something settled.

Foggy let out a low whistle, then grinned. “Well… welcome to Nelson & Murdock.”

Cut to a little while later— Nelson & Murdock office. You, Matt, and Foggy sat around the table, the arrest report open in front of you. The air buzzed faintly from the overhead light, the hum of late-night tension settling over the room.

Foggy skimmed through the statement again, frowning. “Okay. Walk us through it. From the top.”

You leaned forward, elbows on the table, tone clipped but calm. “I was on the subway platform. Late. Waiting on the C train. There were maybe three other people around, none of them close.”

Matt tilted his head slightly, tuning in. Not just to what you were saying, but how you said it— measured, unflinching. No panic. No dramatics. Just facts.

“This guy comes over, starts making small talk. I make it clear I’m not interested. He doesn’t take the hint. Gets closer. I step back, tell him to stop. He grabs my wrist.”

“Forcefully?” Matt asked.

“Firm enough that I couldn’t just shake him off,” you replied. “So I pulled away. He grabbed me again. That time, I reacted. Hit him once, hard, in the face.”

The rhythm of your pulse didn’t spike when you said it. No guilt. Just certainty.

Foggy nodded slowly. “And then?”

“He goes down, pulls out a badge. Says he’s NYPD. I get cuffed.”

“He never identified himself before that?” Matt asked.

“No. Not verbally, not visually. No badge, no warning. He was in plainclothes, no backup, no indication he was on duty.”

Matt exchanged a look with Foggy, then turned his attention back to her. That steady confidence. The way you answered questions like you were already anticipating the next three.

“That’s a serious problem for their case,” Matt said, flipping through the paperwork. “Use of force in response to a perceived threat is protected— especially when there’s no identification of authority.”

You shrugged. “It won’t stop the department from backing him, though.”

Matt’s brows lifted just slightly. YOu knew exactly how this would play out— too many steps ahead for someone just hoping to walk out clean. You were smart. He liked that. Maybe more than he should.

“No,” Foggy agreed. “But it gives us a strong narrative, especially if we can get security footage or eyewitness statements from the other people on the platform.”

There was a beat as Matt closed the folder and set it aside.

“You’re sharp,” he said, more thoughtful now. “You know the statute, you know your rights, and you’re quoting case law off the top of your head.”

You looked at him, just a little amused. “That’s because I’ve spent years doing the same thing you do.”

A flicker of something moved across Matt’s face. He leaned forward just slightly.

“Why exactly are you not representing yourself?”

You smirked. “Because representing yourself while you’re the one in custody is a logistical nightmare. And because even good lawyers know when to bring in reinforcements.”

Foggy shook his head, amused. “Okay. That was... a good answer.”

You smiled, leaning back in your chair. “Now let’s go win my case.”

Matt smiled slightly. “Glad you picked us.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They won.

Not easily, and not without a few uphill battles, but the charges didn’t stick. Between the platform security footage, two credible eyewitness statements, and some rather unflattering internal complaints about the arresting officer, the case quietly unravelled in court. Matt made his arguments clean and precise. Foggy handled the media brushback with that classic Nelson charm. You? You sat through the whole trial stone-faced and unshakable— until the verdict came in, and Matt swore he could hear the way your shoulders finally loosened.

You kept in touch after that.

Not constantly, no regular meetings or phone calls— just the occasional email. A few sarcastic text exchanges. One time, you sent Matt a voicemail of you laughing because Foggy had apparently called you "the one that got away." Matt saved it. He never said that part out loud.

It was about six months later when Foggy floated the idea.

“We could use another good lawyer,” he told Matt, over a plate of lukewarm takeout. “She’s smart, she’s sharp, and she gets us.”

Matt didn’t disagree. He didn’t say much at all, really. But the next morning, you got a call from him— short, polite, a little too formal— inviting you to "grab a coffee and talk opportunities."

You left Pearson Hardman three weeks later.

Karen was the first to greet you when you walked through the door on your first official day. She had already cleared space on the shared bookshelf, left a fresh legal pad on your desk, and warned you not to get caught in any of Foggy’s snack traps. You settled in like you were always meant to be there.

The four of you fell into rhythm faster than expected— late nights, tight wins, inside jokes. Karen became one of your closest friends before your second week was out. Matt had a habit of lingering in your doorway on the days he claimed he "wasn’t eavesdropping," but his smile always gave him away. You pretended not to notice. He pretended not to care."

The firm did better that year than anyone had predicted.

And you? You’d finally stopped feeling like just another cog in someone else’s machine. You felt like you were home.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was late.

Most of the lights in the office were off except for the one at Matt’s desk, and the faint glow of your screen across from him. Karen had bailed with a yawn and a pointed “Don’t stay too long, you two.” Foggy left not long after with a granola bar and a salute.

Now, just you and Matt.

A few open case files, cold takeout, empty coffee cups.

“Your typing slows down when you’re annoyed,” Matt said, breaking the silence without looking up.

You didn’t even pause. “Your voice gets smug when you’re fishing for attention.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Because it’s not flattering?”

“Because I don’t need to fish for attention,” he said. “Not when you give it up so easily.”

You looked up, unimpressed. “Oh no. You have caught me.”

“Seriously, that's how you respond to my flirting?”

You closed your file and leaned your elbows on the desk. “I didn’t realize ‘mild workplace bullying’ counted as flirting now.”

Matt tilted his head, listening closely. “That wasn’t a no.”

You smiled. “Murdock, if I were flirting, you’d know.”

“Oh?” he leaned forward, just slightly. “Go on, then.”

You mirrored the movement. “You sure you want to start something you can’t finish?”

His smile flickered into something smaller, quieter. “I’m not worried.”

“You should be.”

The banter fizzled for a second into silence, but it wasn’t awkward. Just... full. Like both of you were waiting to see who would blink first. Then you reached for the leftover fries between you.

“See, this is where you should’ve swooped in and offered to share,” you said, picking one up.

“I was being polite.”

“You’re full of it.”

Matt chuckled, leaning back in his chair again. “You make work a lot harder than it should be.”

You smirked. “If you’re blaming me for your lack of focus, I feel like that’s a you problem.”

He tapped a knuckle against the folder in front of him. “Pretty sure you’re a walking conflict of interest.”

“Oh, I am,” you said, popping a fry into your mouth. “But you already knew that.”

Matt bit back a smile, quiet again. Listening. After a moment, he said, “You know you could’ve gone back to a hundred bigger firms. Why stay?”

You glanced at him, surprised by the shift in tone. “Because this place feels like... me. Like it's mine, you know?”

Matt nodded slowly. “Feels like mine, too.”

There was something honest in his voice when he said it. Something unguarded. And for a beat— just a beat— you weren’t just two coworkers trading late-night barbs. You were something else. Something that lived in the space between laughter and hesitation. He broke the silence first.

“If you keep looking at me like that, Karen’s going to start planning our engagement party.”

“She already has,” you said. “She’s terrifying.”

He laughed, bright and real. You laughed too, leaning forward again, close without touching. And that was it. Just a moment. Not a confession. Not a move. But later, walking home, you’d think about it again— about how easy it felt, how his voice softened just for you, how neither of you pulled away.

Matt sat at his desk long after you left.

The city hummed outside the windows, faint and familiar— footsteps, traffic, a distant siren splitting the air somewhere on the west side. The kind of night New York never ran out of. But his attention was still in the office. Still in that moment.

You’d laughed. That real kind of laugh that started in the chest and softened everything around it. And for a second, he wasn’t Daredevil or Matt Murdock, the guy with a double life and a thousand reasons to keep people at arm’s length. He was just a man sitting across from someone who made him forget about all of it.

He hadn’t expected you. Not just the sharpness, or the way you fit in so seamlessly, or how you never once treated him like he needed to be handled. It was the way you challenged him. Matched him. Made the air feel lighter, even when the work was heavy.

And tonight— he’d heard it in your heartbeat. That shift. That hesitation. The quiet hope. It mirrored something in his chest he didn’t want to name. Because if he named it, it would be real. And real things could break.

He ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly. He’d been careful. Always careful. With you, maybe too careful. Always toeing the line between professional and personal, between harmless teasing and something far messier.

But tonight? Tonight, the line blurred. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way you said this place felt like yours. Like you’d claimed it. Like you belonged here— next to Karen, Foggy... and him.

Matt had spent most of his life believing that the things he loved either left or got hurt. And yet, here you were. And he was terrified. Because the thought of you staying scared him more than the thought of you leaving.

Because for the first time in a long time, he wanted something he couldn’t fight for in court. Couldn’t earn by bleeding for it.

He just... wanted you.

And wanting had never ended well.

He leaned back in his chair and turned his head toward where you’d been sitting hours ago, the ghost of your laughter still echoing softly in the corners of the room.

He didn’t know what came next. But for the first time in a very long time, he hoped. And that was dangerous.

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Matt had been trained to keep things close to the chest. To be quiet. Composed. Measured. He’d made a whole life out of it— knowing exactly how much to say, how much to feel, and how much to hide. But lately? He was starting to slip.

It started with small things. Lingering a second too long outside your office. Finding reasons to walk the long way around the building just so he wouldn’t pass you in the hallway. Not looking up when you said his name. Not teasing you like he used to. It was subtle. Barely noticeable to anyone else. But Foggy? Foggy clocked it immediately.

“Are you avoiding (Y/n),” he asked one day, without even looking up from his sandwich, “or just trying to die alone with dignity?”

Matt didn’t dignify that with a response. Which, of course, was the response.

He tried to get a handle on it. He really did. But every time you walked into the room, something short-circuited in his chest. It wasn’t just the way your laugh stuck with him hours later, or the way you challenged him in court, or how you always saved the last of the coffee for him without saying a word. It was everything.

It was the way being near you made him feel like maybe he was allowed to want more. And that terrified him. So he did what Matt Murdock always did when he felt too much— he shut down. Smiled less. Talked less. Pulled back.

From your side, it made no sense. One minute, Matt was your closest friend at the firm— bantering with you over contracts and flirting shamelessly during late nights at the office. And then suddenly, he was stiff. Cautious. Civil, but distant. Like someone had flipped a switch and now you were radioactive.

You asked Karen once if you’d done something. She blinked, confused, then immediately said no. Foggy just smirked and shook his head like he knew something he wasn’t telling.

It wasn’t until the case came in that everything started to unravel.

A mugging gone wrong. Client said Daredevil saved her. That wasn’t unusual, not in Hell’s Kitchen. But Matt had disappeared halfway through the intake. No explanation, no warning.

When he came back, he looked… off.

There was a stiffness in his step. His jacket was damp. You noticed a bruise blooming along the edge of his jaw, half-hidden beneath his collar. And the excuse he gave? It was nothing. Too easy. Too rehearsed.

That was the first moment you really looked at him. And from that moment on, it didn’t stop. You started noticing everything.

It started small. A scrape on Matt’s knuckles one morning when he swore he just "bumped into a railing." A bruise along his jaw two days later that hadn’t been there the night before. The fact that he always knew when sirens were about to pass. That he sometimes winced at conversations happening across the street and flinched when someone behind him opened a soda can too loud.

The way his hands sometimes trembled when he thought no one was watching. The bruises that never quite added up. The way his hearing— his attention— seemed to stretch too far, too focused. His absences. His silences.

You weren’t stupid. You were a lawyer, after all-- your entire job revolved around reading people, noticing what others missed. So you paid attention. Not obsessively. Not yet. But enough. Enough to clock that he disappeared some nights without explanation, always coming back the next day with a carefully worded excuse and that same “don’t ask” look in his eye.

And then came the clincher.

A client— a woman being threatened by her landlord— was suddenly protected. Completely. No restraining order had gone through. No legal intervention. But the man stopped showing up. Cold turkey. When you asked, she just said, “That guy in the mask. The Devil. He said I’d be okay.”

You stared at her.

Later that night, while Matt was in his office pretending not to eavesdrop, you walked in and dropped the case file on his desk.

“She said ‘the Devil.’ Not a devil. The one. Hell’s Kitchen’s own.”

Matt didn’t look up. “Lot of people throw that name around.”

“She also said he was calm. Polite. Knew her name. Said she had nothing to be afraid of anymore.”

He was quiet.

You folded your arms. “She said he didn’t sound scary. Said his voice was warm.”

That made him pause.

“You’re not even going to deny it?”

Matt finally leaned back in his chair and sighed. “...hi?”

You blinked. “Hi?”

He shrugged. “It’s concise.”

You just stared at him.

“Matthew,” you said flatly. “What the fuck.”

“I was going to tell you.”

“When? When I saw you parkour off a fire escape in a three-piece suit?”

“I— look, I didn’t want this to change anything. I didn’t want you to change how you looked at me.”

“Look, I’ve been working beside you for over a year. And you didn’t think, at any point, to maybe mention that you moonlight as a one-man SWAT team?”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“Well, good job, Matt. Really nailed it.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then leaned forward slightly, voice lower. “Listen, I know you're upset. I would be too. I didn’t tell you only because I care about you. Because this thing, what I do— it’s brutal. And if anyone ever found out how much you mean to me...”

You blinked. That shut you up. For a second.

“Oh, so I mean something to you now?”

“I think that’s been fairly obvious.”

Matt noticed the way your heartbeat changed when he said you meant something to him. He figured this was a bad time to bring it up, although he smiled to himself at what that meant.

“I’m not mad that you’re Daredevil.”

That made him pause.

You went on. “I’m mad that you didn’t tell me. That you didn’t trust me enough to know. But... I get it. I really do.”

Matt didn’t say anything. Just listened. Really listened.

“You protect people. That’s who you are. And I don’t mean the mask or the fists or any of that— I mean you. The guy who goes to court for tenants getting pushed out of rent-stabilized apartments. The guy who sits through paperwork and trials and still somehow finds time to help people when the system doesn’t. So yeah, I get why you kept it quiet. I would’ve done the same.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Whatever he expected, it wasn’t this.

You stepped a little closer. “Would it have been easier to hear it from you directly? Sure. But I also understand why you didn’t. You’re trying to keep people safe. That’s kind of your whole thing.”

“I didn’t want to put you in danger.”

You gave him a look. “Matt. I’m a defence attorney in Hell’s Kitchen. I’m already in danger.”

He huffed a laugh, tension slipping just slightly.

“And besides,” you added, “it’s not like you told everybody.”

Matt winced. “Karen and Foggy know.”

“Splendid,” you muttered. “I’m last to know. That feels great.”

He opened his mouth to explain, but you waved him off.

“It’s okay. Really. I get it. You didn’t think I could handle it, or maybe you were just scared of what it would mean. Either way, I want you to know I still look at you the same way. Hell, I think I respect you more now."

His expression softened— like something in him untangled all at once.

“And Matt?” you said, quieter now. “I'm still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

That undid him more than any kiss could have. Matt Murdock was already in love with you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Weeks passed. Then months.

You slipped into the parts of his life he never thought he'd share with you— quiet nights on the couch with cold tea and warmer glances, half-finished cases strewn between your desks, your voice low and steady on the phone as you helped him stitch up a gash at 2AM because Claire was out of town. You didn’t flinch at the bruises anymore. You stopped asking where they came from. Not because you didn’t care— because you knew he’d tell you if he could.

You joked that you were his unofficial dispatcher. He joked that you were the only one keeping him alive. It was good. Better than good, most nights. You were steady, sharp, present in a way that grounded him even on the worst days. You kept him tethered.

But even the strongest anchor can’t keep something from drifting if the pull is strong enough. It had been building.

After a particularly brutal stretch— three back-to-back nights of Daredevil coming home bleeding and bruised, a botched sting, a kid who didn’t make it— Matt changed.

He got quieter. Tense. He stopped calling when he was out late. Stopped dropping by your place after patrols. Stopped letting you patch him up. When you showed up with food one night and found his apartment dark, he didn’t even text to say thanks. You let it go. Once. Twice. Then you stopped letting it go.

It was almost midnight. The city was soft and silver around you, the streetlamps humming like old secrets. You’d waited for him— on the pavement outside the office, case files abandoned inside, takeout cold and forgotten. When he finally turned the corner, hoodie up, bruised along the cheekbone, your blood was already simmering.

You stood before he could say anything.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?”

Matt paused. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Bullshit,” you said. “You’ve been dodging me for weeks. You come back barely stitched together, and suddenly I’m a stranger? What, I only exist when you need to be sewn back together?”

“You knew what you were getting into.”

That hit harder than it should’ve.

You crossed your arms. “I told you I could handle this. That I was here because I wanted to be. You don’t get to push me out every time things get hard.”

Matt’s jaw tightened. “I never asked for your help.”

You stared at him. “Wow.”

“I didn’t,” he said, voice lower now. “You inserted yourself. You wanted this. You stayed.”

“Because I care about you, you idiot,” you said incredulously.

He looked away. “If this isn’t working for you—”

“Don’t,” you warned. “Don’t turn this around on me.”

“You don’t have to stay.”

You flinched. “So that’s it? You’re just giving me an out?”

“I’m saying,” he said, sharp now, “if you don’t want to keep doing this, you can stop. I’m not going to hold you here.”

Your chest burned. “Right. Got it. Loud and clear, Murdock.”

“Good. Glad we're on the same page.”

"Fine."

“Fine.”

You turned. He turned. The silence between your retreating footsteps felt louder than anything either of you had said.

You made it maybe ten steps before you turned on your heel. At the same time, Matt doubled back from the other end of the block. You both stopped mid-step.

“This is stupid,” you said.

“I know,” he echoed.

You walked back to each other like it hurt to be apart even for that long. Stopped just a few feet shy of touching.

Matt ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. Then, after a second— calmer now, but still visibly unraveling— he said, “You do realize what’s going on, right?”

You tilted your head. “You mean us shouting at each other in the middle of the street like deranged theatre kids?”

He gave you that small, crooked smile, the one he only let slip when it was just you. “I mean this,” he said, gesturing to the space in between you.

A beat. Then you laughed, soft and breathless. “Oh yeah. For two Ivy-educated lawyers, we are extremely oblivious people.”

“Painfully,” Matt said, taking one slow step closer. “Embarrassingly.”

You looked up at him, heart thudding. “Do we keep pretending? Or...”

“I don’t want to.”

“Oh, thank god,” you whispered.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t hesitant. Wasn’t cautious. It was months of built-up tension, late nights, shared space, quiet devotion, and almosts finally snapping into something real. His hands cupped your face. Yours gripped the front of his jacket. He kissed you like he’d been waiting for permission— and now that he had it, he wasn’t wasting time.

Before you could breathe, your back hit the wall. The brick was cool, sharp against your spine— nothing compared to the heat of him. His mouth crashed into yours, rough and hungry, all the restraint he’d held onto suddenly gone.

You gasped, and that was all he needed. His body pressed flush against yours, arm braced beside your head. One hand slid down, catching your waist and holding you there like he wasn’t letting go anytime soon. You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers threading into his hair, tugging. That made him groan— low and quiet and right against your lips.

The kiss deepened— messier, more desperate. He was everywhere. Warm mouth, steady grip, chest rising hard against yours. You barely registered the moment your hand slipped beneath his jacket, over the fabric of his shirt, just needing to feel something more. When you finally pulled back— barely— your forehead rested against his.

“That was…” you started, still catching your breath.

Matt laughed, voice rough and low. “Yeah. That was.”

You smiled, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “We are going to be so annoying now.”

He grinned, thumb brushing along your jaw. “We already were.”

[juleswritesstuff]

Starving

Basically, just Theo being the munch that he is.

theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings: smut

Enjoy💗

You had always hated Herbology with a deep passion.

Not the plants per se, those were rather fascinating to observe, but did they really need to have such a vast variety of species ? Was it actually necessary ?

Apparently it was, or Mrs Sprout wouldn't have given you a whole 600 words essay to write on every type of mandrake known to man.

Those screaming little things got on your nerves, and you could barely understand what the professor was talking about while tending to them. Hence, you were finding it extremely difficult to complete that paper.

The door of your dorm room suddenly opened and you had to restrain a curse from slipping through gritted teeth.

You had really hoped to not get interrupted.

Apparently your prayers weren't heard.

“You busy, dolcezza ?” (sweetie)

A more than familiar voice reached your ears. You lifted your eyes from your paper and they landed on none other than Theodore Nott, who was standing right in front of your door, now closed again, with a faint smirk plastered on his face. 

You rolled your eyes. You knew that little grin all too well.

“Kind of, yeah” you replied, your attention going back to the paper in front of you as you started scribbling again with your quill “Aren't you ? Have you already finished your essay ?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Just turned it in, so I have some time to kill” he said with that cocky attitude of his.

Infuriating and charming at the same time, truly unfair.

“Good for you, then. I don't, so if you could leave me to it, it would be much appreciated” you said as a forced smile curved your lips.

“Oh, come on. You don't even have a little time ? Per me ?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side with the most innocent expression he could master. (For me ?)

Which didn't work because his eyes screamed trouble.

Theo looked like an angel with his brown hair curled in soft locks and eyes as blue as the ocean, although dead and emotionless looking.

Actually, he was the devil in disguise. Especially when he acted all coy like this.

“No Theo, I really don't have time for your little antics today” you said huffing.

‘His little antics’ being eating you out till tears rolled down your cheeks and your mascara was smudged and unsalvageable. 

You and Theo were ‘friends’. You got along just fine, you talked, and you bickered like there was no tomorrow. It was part of your friendship, the teasing, the little harmless jokes. It was routine for the two of you.

What was also routine was the flirting. 

Shameless and obvious flirting.

You never thought it would lead anywhere. You were so used to the little Italian endearments he gave you and the ever present smirk on his lips that you didn't really think anything of it.

Until one night, after one of the biggest parties that Slytherin had ever thrown, you ended up in his bed, with him between your legs eating you out like his life depended on it.

You didn't even know how you found yourself in that situation, you just knew that you hadn't minded one bit.

You ended up with shaky legs and a dizzy brain just by his tongue alone.

Saying that you didn't mind it would've been an understatement.

The day after was awkward as hell, but you both were too direct and honest to not deal with the weird atmosphere immediately.

So you decided to add some…privileges to your relationship. 

You discovered Theo had quite an oral fixation. 

He needed to keep his mouth occupied with something.

Cigarettes were a great way to keep his mouth busy, but they were extremely damaging for his health.

You didn't mean to make him stop smoking, you knew it would've been basically impossible, and, if you had to be completely honest with yourself, he looked so damn hot with those death traps between his lips, but you wanted to at least try to reduce the amount of nicotine that went into his body.

And what better way than to bribe him with the second thing he loved the most in the world ?

Eating you out seemed to be his favorite hobby.

Anytime he felt the need to light one cigarette more than necessary he came to you, with that sinful smirk on his lips and the hottest ‘fuck me’ eyes he could master.

And who were you to say no ? 

You had proposed the deal in the first place.

Plus, he was amazing at it too. The way his tongue worked on your cunt definitely felt like ascending to heaven.

But now you really didn't have the time.

“I'm not here because I feel like smoking, Y/n” he said walking up to you and stopping in front of the desk, leaning forward a little as he supported his weight with his hands on the table. 

You made the mistake of lifting your eyes from the parchment and locking them with his. His gaze was magnetic. Once those pools of stormy sea caught you, you couldn't escape.

“Then why are you here ?” you asked, raising your eyebrows.

“Cause I'm starving, bambolina” he uttered with the calmest and most unaffected tone in his voice. (babydoll)

You narrowed your eyes.

“Then you should be in the kitchen to solve that little problem, don't you think ?” you asked rhetorically, eyes going back to focus on the parchment in front of you.

You heard him scoff, and suddenly he was leaning so much closer.

Your head was still hung low, trying to write that damn essay, but his presence was distracting as hell and you couldn't help but shiver when he leaned to whisper in your ear.

“You're right, that would be the perfect solution if I was hungry for food” he stopped and you could feel the teasing smile plastered on his face.

“But all I'm craving is you and that pretty little cunt of yours, so I don't think the kitchen elves could really help me with that”

You wished you could say his words didn't affect you, you really wished.

But the sudden warmth on your cheeks and the unconscious clench of your legs told another story.

You really didn't have time for this, but your body was craving him and his touch like crazy, and you weren't sure you would've been able to focus if you didn't feel his tongue working its wonders on you.

So you sighed and pushed the chair you were sitting on a bit farther away from the desk, enough to take your knickers off and throw them somewhere behind you, then you sat back, your skirt still covering you up until your mid thighs.

His eyes darkened with lust.

“Make it quick, I have an essay to finish” you said, faking indifference.

On the inside you were burning alive.

“Quick ? It's like you don't know me at all, dolcezza” he said with a scoff as he sank to his knees, crawling until he was right in front of you.

His gaze locked in yours as his hands made contact with the bare skin of your legs, caressing them gently, tenderly.

“I'll take my sweet time with you. Ora fai la brava and open those gorgeous legs for me” you hated how fast you complied, but with the way he was looking at you you really couldn’t help yourself. (Now be good) 

He lifted your skirt and he leaned forward.

As soon as his tongue made contact with your folds you melted.

You choked out a whimper, and you could feel him smirk right against your groin.

"Wipe that grin off your face, Nott, I'm only -ah fuck, I'm only doing it because you begged me” you said as he kept lapping at your core with his tongue, wrapping his lips around your clit to give it a gentle suck.

The moan that rippled out of you was almost pornographic.

“Piccola bugiarda, you know that's not true. You're doing it because you want it too” he moved his mouth from your cunt to your thighs, giving feather light kisses on the sensitive skin. (Little liar)

“You're so wet, you didn't think I would notice ?” he asked with that fucking cocky attitude that made you go crazy.

“Shut up and put that mouth to a better use” you said, but the bite in your voice was definitely toned down by the urgency and neediness of having his mouth back where you needed him the most.

His head tilted to the side as he leaned back just the tiniest bit.

“What's with the attitude, uh ?”

“No, no, no, -shit Theo. Come back here” you said, almost whining.

He was too far, and you needed him.

You needed him closer, way fucking closer.

“E come si dice ?” he teased, his eyes were dark and fogged up by lust and hunger. (And what do you say ?)

“Fuck, why do you always want me to beg ?” you asked, defeated. He leaned forward again, his breath hovering right above the tender skin as you clenched around nothing, feeling the loss of his tongue.

“Because it's fun, I love it when you beg me with that sweet mouth of yours. Plus I like seeing you flustered” he said as he started to kiss every inch and nook of your most sensitive area, avoiding where you really wanted him to.

You wanted to curse so bad, but you knew that was not what he wanted, what he needed.

“Theo -fuck. Please Theo, just touch me. Please” you surrendered, your voice whiny and broken, until a melody of moans and whimpers started to ripple out of your lips as soon as his mouth met your folds again.

And this time he didn’t stop.

He lapped at your juices like a starved man enjoying his meal for the first time in days.

He licked, and sucked, and kissed every centimeter, every inch of tender skin like he was born to do that.

Your hands buried in his soft brown locks and you tugged at them unconsciously after a particularly good roll of his tongue made you see stars.

“Cazzo, se continui così verrò nei pantaloni porca puttana” he said, hissing. His mouth kept working wonders on your cunt, his groans creating delicious vibrations on your clit. (Fuck, if you keep this up I'll come in my pants, holy shit)

“Ancora” he said between ravenous licks and delicate, teasing sucks, guttural moans leaving his lips. (Again)

“What ?” you asked, lost in pleasure. Your little knowledge of the Italian language became nonexistent when he was busy making you cry on his tongue.

“Again, baby. You know i fucking love it” he says, mouthing the words right against your core.

And so you obeyed, tugging at his hair again, a little rougher, a little harder.

A low groan left his lips.

You were close, you were so fucking close.

“Shit, Theo, baby” you moaned out loud, the term of endearment completely slipping out.

Theo seemed to notice, because he started to go faster, tongue flicking desperately at your folds.

Your breath got caught in your lungs, your ears rang and your sight turned black as you got hit by pleasure.

The hand on his hair kept Theo close as you rode your orgasm on his tongue.

He lapped at your juices carefully, to not overstimulate you, leaving sweet butterfly kisses on your thighs, worshiping the skin with his lips.

Once your breathing started to go back to normal and your sight was not blurry from the pleasure anymore you looked at him.

He was still kneeling in front of you, a teasing smile tugging at his lips as his eyes focused on your face.

“You look quite disheveled, principessa” he said with a chuckle, pride oozing from his features for reducing you in that state. All fucked out and breathless. (princess)

“Oh, yeah ? And whose fault is that ?” you asked in mocking shock, but you couldn't help a chuckle from escaping your lips.

“And you're one to talk” you added as you took in his appearance. His eyes were still quite foggy and unfocused, his hair a mess from all the tugging, and his lips.

Oh, his lips. Red and shiny with your essence and the tiniest bit swollen.

He looked too fucking good to be true.

You knew you folded too easily when Theo was involved, but you couldn’t help it.

“I told you I was starving, you underestimated my eagerness to fucking devour you” he said with a shrug, wetting his lips to savor your taste once again, like his words didn’t make you feel like you were catching fire.

That mouth of his was a menace, physically and metaphorically.

“I’m never gonna be able to finish this stupid essay now” you said almost desperately.

He laughed at your pathetic whining, but it was a warm laugh, not one made to mock you but one that was closer to endearment.

“Was it so good that it melted your brain off ?” he asked with that cocky grin of his.

You looked at him with a deadpan expression.

“Your overly confident attitude never fails to amaze me, Theodore Nott '' you said with a chuckle. You straightened your posture on the chair, smoothing out all the wrinkles that he had left from fisting your skirt and holding on for dear life to keep your hips still.

“Now I don’t want to kick you out, but I really need to finish this”

“No need for that, tesoro, I’ll leave you to it. Wouldn’t want to distract you too much” he said, getting back up on his feet and tucking a rebellious strand of your hair behind your ear.

“See you at dinner ?” he asked. 

You simply nodded your head yes.

His hand was still gently caressing your cheek, the pads of his fingers were as light as a feather as they danced on your skin.

His eyes were locked in yours, and you had no idea of what was happening.

Until his fingers reached your chin, tilting your head up the slightest bit. 

Then he leaned in.

For the first time since you had started this ‘arrangement’ his lips met yours.

And they were sweeter than you thought, gentle, but there was an undertone of hunger, of neediness that you couldn’t ignore.

He tasted of nicotine and butter beer, bittersweet and addicting.

His lips were slightly chapped but you couldn’t care less about it as his tongue swiped on your bottom lip, his teeth grazing at it gently right after as he carefully bit the plump skin.

He pulled back slowly and you were left speechless.

He just chuckled at your wide eyes and agape mouth.

“Good luck on your essay, ok ? I’ll see you tonight” he left a quick kiss on your cheek before storming out of the door with a smile on his face.

Your thoughts were all over the place, because what the hell had just happened ?

Did Theodore Nott just kiss you ?

Something a little different from my usual marauders content, but he's been stuck in my brain for weeks now, and I couldn't help myself 😔

And honestly, as an Italian girl, I really think Lorenzo Zurzolo should be classified as a national treasure, thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[marsprincess889]

Intuitive messages

Timeless, better for Spring and Summertime. 🌸🌿

Do not force the message if it feels wrong or innacurate, but if you were drawn to this and chose a pile, then maybe there is something here for you.

Group 1

Signs: Trees, forest, branches, "hollow", "hasty", "great", Berlin, Central Europe, Gloucestershire (England, UK), town/city/place initials W or P or H, wide meadows, dark places in nature, detective books, mystery books, pears, Worcestershire (England, UK), Barbie, feeling overwhelmed, stone trails, "Emma" by Jane Austen and the titular character_ Emma Woodhouse.

Nakshatras: Jyeshta, Anuradha, Krittika, Swati, Ashlesha.

MBTI: ENFJ

Disclaimer: apologies if my language comes across as harsh in this one. I tried ro edit it milultiple times but I keep deleting and leaving it like I wrote it the first time. Maybe it's meant to be that way. You can stop reading anytime if you think that it's definitely not for you.

You need to stop making everyone else's lives your problem.

This was straight to the point. I've never gotten to the gist of the message immediately before.

There are layers to what I'm thinking is your situation, and it's not looking good.

I think you already know that this is the case, but you can't change yourself, so you keep doing what you do.

It seems kind of obsessive and compulsive, and it might not have felt like this all the time, but at least it feels like that now, as if things going how you think they should go is a life or death situation. You also feel this deep, mostly subconcious responsibility.

For those of you who don't understand what I'm talking about, what I'm getting might be one of the following scenarios: having a deep emotional and/or psychological crisis because you feel like everything is going wrong and everyone around you keeps making things hard, feeling abandoned and angry because your friends and/or family and maybe even some other people refuse to listen to you, feeling betrayed because of the same thing, trying desparately to find answers as to why all of this is happening but missing the obvious.

The important thing that I should point out is that whatever you're trying to force on people mainly concerns them, not you.

I think that all of this is tied to the morals that you refuse to change. Maybe it's because you think that helping people is your purpose and calling, because you'll be a failure and the blame will be on you if you do not do so, or that you know better, so that means that you should be a guide and a mentor to others, even if they do not want it, because you think that they cannot recognize when things should be otherwise, or this or that way.

If so, then not only are you making your life harder by taking on all of that, you are also robbing people of the right to make their own decisions.

Let's unpack the possible missteps. First of all, thinking that you know better than others, especially when it concerns their own lives, is, in my opinion, arrogance. Maybe unintentional, but arrogance nontheless. Secondly, even if you think that, acting on that thought and meddling in people's lives, whether directly or indirectly (I think it's indirect and subtle for most of you, accompanied by charm and friendliness, passed off as care), is a bit cruel. I know that you don't see it that way, especially because you think you're helping and doing something kind. Care is all well and good but sometimes there is an extremely thin line between that and manipulation.

And that's what you don't see_ the line, where your life starts and others' end, or vice versa. You need those other people more than you let on and maybe even admit to yourself, maybe just as much as you think they need you. I see you as social, so, seeing as you also like to be an active part of others' lives, I'm guessing that you lack privacy and alone time. Maybe, at this point, you don't even have a life that does not involve advice to and attention from others, and that is what truly scares you.

To say that you need to set boundaries would be too obvious. If others have come to count on you and you do not feel like it, it's your responsibility to kindly explain to them why you cannot do so, and try to not make them feel like they are being unreasonable by expecting your help, because, based on what I'm feeling, you made that bed, you set that trend.

The feeling of chaos and paranoia(on some level) that you have is valid, but who's to say that it's others who created that? Life is not simplistic, at least it does not always feel that way, and if you find that you disagree with others, do not take it personally. Your views are right for your life, and if you genuinely want to help others, know that your effect might be different than what you intended it to be. Acceptance is a great thing. You obviously do not have to accept anything that you don't want to accept, but accepting how other people are is just accptance of the truth.

If you feel like others are making your life difficult, do not be afraid to set boundaries. You should know where your life ends and the others' lives begin, that's the main thing here. And I also think that you feel like you have control everything. There are bound to be surprises and unintentional consequences in life, it's never the end of the world. Do not feel guilty for making a mistake, but accept that you did so and try to learn from it.

I hope I was not too harsh on this, but this was not meant to scold you, just to make you realize some things.

🤍 best of luck

Group 2

Signs: biting, health, slipping on ground and falling, cash (might be a name), frozen ground, gray scarf, straight dark hair, curtain bangs, bangs, baby pink, dancer, living with your father, small town, gum, prominent mole on the face, USA, Canada, pale skin, natural pink(cool) undertones to the skin, had to get up very early in the past few days, 13, 22, 58, "Brokeback Mountain", at least one of the parents has/had a job related to finances, had a minor injury recently, name Lily (or similar names), name Heather, name Cynthia, name Zoya/Zoe, "Angel" (anything), a cafe/diner with the word "Breakfast" in its name/written on it, name Fallon, name Jerry, cherry trees, Glinda from "The Wizard of Oz"/ Galinda from "Wicked", dance classes, "Uptown Girls".

Nakshatras: Uttara Ashadha, Magha, Dhanishta, Bharani, Anuradha, Pushya, Uttara Bhadrapada, Ashlesha, Swati.

Very specific: Ketu in Virgo (sidereal), especially in Uttara Phalguni.

MBTI: INTP, INTJ, ISFJ, ENFP, ISTJ, ESFP.

Hello there 🤍 felt like writing a sweet little message at the beginning of your group after getting the message. You deserve to get this wothout overthinking. Don't overthink this, just, take it ok? Here 💕💕💕

This post has been in the drafts for months because your group was the last one to reveal itself to me, or it was just harder for me to understand it, or it became hard on purpose.

Ok I'm getting something about local drama and you being just over it. Just, so tired, so ready to leave and be done with it.

I support you!

Ok, but besides you being justly fed up with the unnecessary drama, I think there is a little habit or a tendency of yours that is not exactly helping it, or rather, helping you.

Even if there is no major drama around you now, you might feel like people overcomplicate things and consequently, frequently incovenience you.

"Be a mother in disguise."

I do not know what that means. I channel random sentences and then get ideas.

I think you have a thing/relevance with your inner child??? Or a young woman/girl who you have found yourself with.

A lot of things related to spiritual/psychological/inner nurturing are coming up. There is a need to be a mother to yourself, but more specifically, I am getting that you need to be a "mother" to a younger girl, really similar to the movie "Uptown Girls" regarding how I see the dynamic.

Hmmm yeah. I think this period is going to teach you a lot.

Interesting thing about your group: I have a pretty long list of signs, as you can see, and I got the imagery/associations pretty quickly, but I was just uninterested??? Not uninterested but just hesitant to talk about it, as if it's not worth talking about?? That does not sound right either, but I was just sitting with those signs, waiting for "the thing" to come through. I think that's how you are. That might just be how you feel about life: overwhelmed by details, but, bored. Very bored, in general.

I see you going through everyday life, thinking: "man this is so unnecessary... that too, and what even is worthy/necessary lately?" It's like everything that is taking your time up is pointless and boring and the same old unintersting thing. But, you keep doing them. I see you not knowing where else to go.

Dissatisfaction, annoyance, boredom, overwhelm, a need for repetition/stability/solidity/something real but also a desperate need to break free from mental/spiritual/environmemtal/circumstantial shackles. Everyday life is familiar and the same, and it's comforting, annoying, and terrifying at the same time.

"Stay."

This is the sentence I got for you. Yes it's a full sentence. So, if you were contemplating whether you should stay or go, here's your answer. But don't let me stop you if you truly know otherwise. I do think that you need to stay, at least for now. How long "for now" is, I can't say.

I also have a sentence addressed to me: "let them stay". Why do I need to let you stay? 😭

I am just extremely uninclined to and against giving you any advice, maybe that's what it is. I just need to let you be how you are, but then, this message still came through. Idk what it is in my text that you need/needed to read, but here it is.

I am still waiting for "the thing". I still feel there is more to this. I guess you feel like that too, mainly about your own life.

The song "Uptown Girl" by Billy Joel keeps playing in my head.

If you keep waiting, there must be a reason. It keeps coming slowly, as if it's not coming at all, but you feel it don't you? I don't know what it is, but it seems real.

What are you waiting for? Maybe you really need to stay. There will be a time to go, but there is something you should know. It's different for each of you, but that's what I think. Wait for something, maybe.

Let's also elaborate on that younger girl that many of you have come to know or will get to know: she might not be "you" exactly, but she has her own important role to play in your life. Look at that relationship with ease and curiosity and with an open heart. Remember that you still have your own life and your own problems, but she is also there.

"Keep dreaming"

"Toot" (what?????? Let me know if this is relevant for some of you😭)

"Angel"

I'm getting something about staying and then going. Stay, take the gift/find out/realize/free yourself/heal/remember/complete something, and then go.

🤍

Group 3

Signs: Drums, halo sticks, bones, teeth accessories? (So specific...), red or hot pink bedroom walls/mainly red or hot pink colored bedroom, marches/marching, name Patrick, name Cillian, mint gum/candy, Ireland, feeling lonely, feeling a bit angry or impatient, guns, orange and/or pink, you picked number three in my last reading, sharing fruits, walls, small flowers, fangs/vampire teeth, sharing gum or candies/snacks, small round flowers.

Nakshatras: Mrigashira, Chitra, Shravana, Revati, Purva Ashadha, Punarvasu, Ardra.

MBTI: ISTP, INFJ, ESFJ, INFP, ENTP, ESFP.

"Forgive your friend"

This is for you I think, and then I heard

"They have a problem with forgetting".

And it was about you.

There is a focus here on your energy and the inner struggle with it. Before I go any further, I want to say that there is absolutely nothing wrong with you, you do not need to fix anything about yourself and your emotions are completely valid. The messages are not so much messages here as they're things you already kind of know but are sort of out of focus.

I would've said that your pain or anger is clouding your vision but they're not. If they are, you are aware of it and you're aware of yourself. That might even cause you to overthink and repress your true nudges or emotions just because something made you believe that they're wrong or inappropriate, only to later explode.

Anger "issues", in your case, come from feeling ignored or shut down.

As far as I understand, this message is about finding peace and gentleness inside yourself while not compromising your values or repressing your passion. I think the first step towards that is accepting yourself radically and not overanalyzing your natural urges. I also get a sense that you feel shameful about certain things, like that shame comes and goes as you fight with it.

I'm getting something about small round flowers. Maybe they have symbolic or some kind of other meaning for you.

I heard "tell them to be safe in their own mind". (Addressed to me)

You need to stop feeling guilty for whatever process is going on inside you. Anger is a valid thing to experience and sometimes it is not imagined or perpetrated by your internal self. Trying to find the place in yourself to put a blame on for feeling angry is torture. Yes, sometimes it is not fair, not fair at all. Sometimes you just don't deserve to feel like that, but you do feel it. Great things can happen when you accept yourself and make peace with it.

There's also a need to be gentle with yourself.

I am actually getting that a lot of it has to do with politics, history and political views, and that it mostly affected you directly, as in, you're not just angry for not winning an argument. You've witnessed the effects in real time, and/or are experiencing them now.

I think you have nurtured your own thoughts but what you have not nurtured are your instincts. Your feelings need to be felt completely, deeply, thoroughly. I think there's a pressure to think, overanalyze, rationalize and act too soon in you, but you're going to have to let it go.

There might be an unconcious battle, some obstacle in your psyche that you're trying to overcome. I think it's self-invalidation and a feeling akin to imposter syndrome, where you feel like you're pretending. I think you ARE pretending, but not in the way that you think: you are repressing the truth within you because you conciously or unconciously feel like it's too hard to express or not deny it around others, too exhausting, too tedious and saddenning.

Again, sometimes life IS unfair. Realize that and make peace with whatever you're feeling, because you I don't think that you can keep going like this for much longer.

Even when you think that life is fair because of some cosmic universal law that humans cannot comprehend, sometimes life feels unfair, and it's completely valid.

It's the truth that when you repress something, it'll come out even stronger later. You can use that to your advantage by waiting to express, or, you can feel it right now and let it go with peace, whether you express it or not. It's up to you, whatever you think or feel is the correct thimg to do is the correct thing to do, just do not blame yourself for simply living.

There's no rush to make sense of your feelings, there's no benefit in forcing things upon yourself just to be palatable to others.

That thing that you care about so much, it's not going to go away if you take a slower approach, if you wait for a while to be more clear in your feelings. Time weeds out the wrong things sometimes, and even when it seems like the outside world is not letting you be free, do the thing anyway, but wait until you're ready.

There is psychological pressure in you, probably from the environments/people you've found yourself in/among for most of your life. You're still young, you have a bright spark in you, a fire that is repressed. It's not my place to dictate to you, to tell you things you've thought about, or to try to "fix" you. Nobody should. It's easy to forget that when everyone else seems to obey, conform and comply. You are not that. You are not obedient by nature. (I was just reminded of "Ella Enchanted" after I wrote that. It fits you reading so well. Please look it up 🤍)

You have it in you to be yourself in a way that is the most truthful to you.

I would really appreciate confirmation in the comments or reblogs, especially because all of these groups were more difficult to channel and/or extremely specific.

Wishing you love and peace 🤍

[fevers-and-emeto-oh-my]

Throwing my hat in the ring here bc I've honestly weighed in on far more volatile discourse and i also feel like yammering about this.

Coming into 9-1-1, almost everyone I spoke to and everything I saw told me I would NOT like Tommy. He was rude, he was terrible to Buck, he called Buck "Evan," he walked out on a date, he made mean comments, etc.

I did take this with a grain of salt, because I rarely conform to fandom consensus on characters, pairings, plot lines, etc. (Destiel was my NOTP in SPN and I do not like Ada at all in RE, for example). I'm perfectly happy to have opinions that don't line up with everyone else's because I'm here to have fun for myself, not for anyone else. (Putting this under a cut because it got LONGGGG)

Then I get to 7x03 and see Tommy again for the first time since s2. and he is a BLAST. He's grown, he's not posturing or repressing himself. He oozes confidence off the bat and is INCREDIBLY fun (the MOUTH STATIC??? HELLO???). He has this dry wit that I fall in love with immediately ("well, unless you feel like swimming back, that's all we've got." "because we're flying into a hurricane. probably all gonna die anyway.") i am EXCITED. i am also reallyyyy confused, because THIS Tommy would have to do a complete 180 in personality or how he treats Buck for me to suddenly have the vitriol for him that's so common across the fandom.

7x04. I am smitten with how Tommy acts through the tour of Harbor--leaning reallyyyyyy close to Buck, the charming teasing lilt to his voice, his little smile. Eddie shows up and Eddie and Tommy become besties. I love this too--they would absolutely get along like a house on fire, and there's INSANE chemistry between Tommy and Eddie immediately. I don't personally like them taking a chopper to Vegas (my Eddie would never set foot in a helicopter willingly unless it was for someone he loved, like Bobby and Athena the episode prior) BUT they 110% fucked on that trip and I will not hear any arguments otherwise.

We're skipping over the buddie of it all bc this post is about Tommy. The kiss???? The fingers under Buck's chin???? (THANKS LOU) The SOFT look on his face the entire time???? I'm immediately sold. Bucktommy is immediately a new fave and I'm excited to see if I like Tommy more than or just as much as I liked Taylor.

7x05! The date. AKA instant desire to douse myself in bleach from second-hand embarrassment. I know this is where a lot of people soured on Tommy, but when I reached the end of the episode I honestly couldn't understand WHY it soured people so intensely and immediately. That date was a DISASTER for multiple reasons, but I don't think Tommy was WRONG for leaving. Buck was nervous the entire way through (implied by Tommy's line assuring him nobody was looking at them) and it's his first date with a guy, so who can blame him? His line about being an ally was uh. Yikes. But they had already eaten and were getting the check, so obviously dinner as a whole went pretty well considering the scene opens with them both content and joking around a little bit. Obviously Buck couldn't have foreseen Eddie showing up. And I don't BLAME Buck for losing his head and overcompensating--he's not even out to Eddie yet, not even sure what his sexuality means for him himself yet, it's totally in character for him to panic and stick his foot in his mouth.

I don't blame Buck, really, I have empathy for him. BUT I also don't blame Tommy. Tommy is comfortably out, we don't know what his last relationship was like, and no matter how much he UNDERSTANDS what Buck did, it still had to hurt to be there and basically be outright friendzoned in an effort to be hidden. I don't care how you spin it, the situation absolutely sucked for both of them. People get really really mad about the closet comment, and it's not a moment I particularly enjoy from Tommy, but I understand why he said it. That kind of dry poking is in character, and I truly don't think he MEANS to OUT Buck, I think he's just hurt and lashing out a little bit (which, for what it's worth, we have seen EVERY character lash out WORSE than that). If I was Tommy, I would have left after dinner instead of going to the movies too.

People get really mad about Tommy leaving Buck alone on the street. When I first heard that he did that and how MAD people were about it, I was picturing Tommy pulling over in the middle of nowhere somewhere and leaving Buck stranded. That would have also made ME mad, so it was what made sense to me as what had to have happened.

And then.....Tommy just.....got his own Uber? And left Buck on the well-lit, populated street literally in front of the doors to the restaurant? After being really honest with Buck that he likes him, but he's not sure Buck's ready to be out with a guy yet. People also didn't like that but I thought it was fair? It wasn't Tommy telling Buck Buck's feelings. It came across more to me as Tommy looking out for Buck and speaking from a place of experience as a gay man much further along into his own journey. He doesn't say it but from what he said about being under Gerrard and coming out when he went to Harbor, I'm sure TOMMY had his own growing pains just like that.

Honestly, I think a lot of the anger about leaving Buck on the street comes from the fanbase having a lot of women. If Buck was a woman and Tommy left him there, then yes, I would not trust Tommy as a love interest at all because it would mean he wasn't at all concerned for fem!Buck's safety. But if I take me being a woman out of how I look at it, it's not really an issue? Buck is a cis white male, he's broad, he's 6'2". It's not impossible for him to get attacked, of course, but it's significantly less likely, and he's standing on the sidewalk directly in front of the restaurant doors. Buck's also a perfectly capable adult; it was their first date. Tommy had truthfully no obligation to take care of Buck, and Buck has a phone and his own agency. He can get himself his own Uber.

At this point, I'm more intrigued than anything by fandom's gung-ho hatred of him, because Tommy hasn't done anything black-and-white undeniably egregious. I watch the rest of season 7 and I love him the whole time. He genuinely cares for Buck and while I had anticipated hating that he called Buck "Evan," I actually loved it. Lou gave it such an affectionate inflection that it's very endearing, and his use of "Evan" feels natural and sweet, not the forced-intimacy awkward that I was expecting considering that's how it felt with Ana calling Eddie "Edmundo."

I get to 7x09/7x10. People don't like the "enjoy it while it lasts" comment at the awards ceremony. I get to the dinner scene where they talk about fathers and the 118 as a family and Tommy says "god, I hope so" to the idea of Buck having daddy issues. Both of these things have been pointed out to me as horrible moments.

Neither line makes me hate Tommy. The daddy issues one I find exceptionally fun. At this point, and as I watch s8, I am more or less convinced that fandom hates Tommy for three different reasons: he's not Eddie, they don't understand his sense of humor, and they don't trust Buck to look out for himself.

I will be the first to say i ADORE buddie. AND bucktommy. And buddietommy is the FIRST OT3 that has INSANE chemistry and subtextual backing in canon. Every scene where the three of them are together, the three-way chemistry is off the charts and they fall naturally into what really feels like a poly dynamic, PARTICULARLY in Masks where they're two boyfriends tag-teaming teasing and taking care of their third boyfriend, Buck.

But like I said, I think fandom's hatred of Tommy comes from the fact that he's NOT Eddie. Buck is bi in canon, hooray! Except....they give him a boyfriend that's not Eddie, disappointing buddie shippers. Buck has romantic scenes with someone that's not Eddie. Buck kisses someone that's not Eddie. Etc. To me, people hate Tommy so much the exact same that they hate Taylor and Ana (every love interest tbh, but Taylor, Ana, and Tommy get the most hate and bashing), because none of them are EDDIE.

I also think the fandom doesn't understand Tommy's sense of humor or how he shows affection. It's fanon that Tommy is Italian. I totally adopt that headcanon, because in MY Italian-American family (AND on my Irish/Scottish/French-Canadian/Portuguese family on my mom's side) do you know how we show love? We break each other's balls. We tease the shit out of each other. I tell my dad he's so full of shit his eyes are brown. There's a written list on the inside of the cabinet of the words I have pronounced horrifically wrong. My dad's cousins have the SAME dry, deadpan delivery that Tommy does.

My friends and I ALSO have this kind of humor. It's ALSO how we show love to one another. I have never read a single line of Tommy's as being malicious or rude or as him not liking Buck, because to me it's CLEAR that he's joking and being affectionate. (And also, the fandom puts words in his mouth....Tommy did NOT call Buck gross in Masks. Buck SAID he knew Tommy THOUGHT he was gross, and Tommy DENIED that and tried to explain himself. Also Buck's line "my own boyfriend won't even kiss me" is followed immediately by Tommy saying "that's not true.")

The dinner scene after Bobby's heart attack made sense to me. Tommy gave Buck space to say how he felt (and i think the "your dad is alive" line came more from a place of Tommy NOT having a parental figure in a captain. I don't think that was meant to be dismissive, I think that was a misunderstanding) and honestly, if MY boyfriend made a joke about daddy issues during that conversation I would have loved it. Sometimes humor is the best medicine.

That also rolls into my last point--people don't trust Buck to look out for himself. The fandom loves Buck, for good reason, but they also baby him. Buck is a grown man. Yes, he has abandonment issues and PTSD. He probably has anxiety and he definitely has ADHD. But...none of those things mean he can't speak up when people do things he doesn't like? People get so annoyed with the daddy issues line and with Tommy telling Buck to put the screen away like it's dismissive or infantilizing.

First of all, I have (undiagnosed) ADHD. Sometimes having someone outright tell you "okay that's enough of that, go [do a task or transition to something else]" is HELPFUL. Tommy was literally sleeping on that stupid most-uncomfortable-looking couch just to be downstairs with Buck, he clearly cares about him. When you care about people, sometimes it means a little tough love. It wasn't infantilizing when MY irl friends would be like "you've had enough to drink" or "i'm making you dinner." Sometimes we ALL need some of that decision-making taken away from us. And also? Buck doesn't listen to Tommy. In the morning they talk about Buck staying up too late. It's not like Tommy got mad and took the laptop and FORCED Buck to bed.

Second of all, with the daddy issues joke. I love Buck. I do. He's one of my favorites. And yes, Buck can successfully hide SOME of what he feels. But that man is an open book 90% of the time. His heart is on both sleeves and his pants legs. If you say or do something he doesn't like, he's NOT shy about showing it (which we just had confirmed AGAIN in 8x09). If the daddy issues joke BOTHERED BUCK, his face would have fallen. He would have gone quiet. He would have left the table. Even if he didn't say it to Tommy in the moment, there would have been some indication that HE PERSONALLY had an issue with what was said. Instead he's giving Tommy a little smirk and intense heart eyes the whole time.

Not to mention, BUCK BRINGS UP DADDY ISSUES. He STARTS IT by saying "So maybe we both have daddy issues," while one of his eyebrows quirks and he gives this little almost shit-eating grin. If you're going to be MAD at the daddy issues joke, you should be mad at BUCK if you're gonna be mad at anyone, because he STARTED IT.

I won't get into how I feel about the breakup bc it's not relevant to this post really, but yea. I personally love Tommy, Bucktommy was Buck's strongest relationship imo (only a touch stronger than Bucktaylor), and my personal belief is that Tommy gets far more hatred than he deserves. (Talking about his growth from the Begins episodes is also a different post, but he grows DURING those episodes and also is clearly a better person from what we see in s7/8)

[c0n-fus3d]

𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝙰 𝙱𝚘𝚢.

(Older!Powder x fem!reader)

I'm sorry but I finished ep 1 of act 3 and had to write this to get my emotions out about ekko and powder being a thing in an alternative reality bcz just RAHHHFHSHEHSHHS my gay ass is crying (no offense to the timebomb shippers, you do you!! If you like this that's cool💪💪) ENGLISH ISN'T MY NATIVE LANGUAGE, IF I MADE SOME SPELLING MISTAKES I'M SORRY ALSO SPOILERS FOR ACT 3!!

Warnings: uhhh just angst, mostly angst, this is for my girlies who might be feeling the same

༺ღ༒ ༺ღ༒ ༺ღ༒ ༒ღ༻

You've always liked Powder, every since you were kids, and still when you are teenagers.

Their was always something about her. The way she made the most creative inventions, the way she always seemed to have some sort of spark in her eyes. Her laugh, her hair, her eyes, it's hard for you to explain the feelings you have towards her.

You knew the way Vi's death was heavy on her, you could see that with the days, and soon years that came after. You we're always trying to be there to support her, make her feel a little better. You gave her space when she needed it, and we're there for her when she needed you the most.

And then there was Ekko.

You never hated Ekko, you 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 hate Ekko. he was a good guy, you got along with him. He was around Powder nearly just as much as you we're, maybe even a little more. When you were around Powder, he wouldn't take long to show up as well. You didn't mind.

But you couldn't deny that you we're jealous of him, of Ekko. The way he charmed his way into Powder's heart over the years. With his sketches, ideas, personality, kindness and understanding. You wanted what him and Powder had as if what you already had wasn't enough for you. You could see the way she looked at him, how 𝙝𝙚 looked at her the same way.

You often wished it was you instead of him. You try to forget about your jealousy, push it asside. You try to push your jealousy and selfishness asside, keep everything natural between you three. But it got harder and harder the more time went on.

Ekko has been acting strange recently, or at least that's what Powder told you. How he 'seems not to remember anything' and how he says these things about how in a dream her and Vi we're completely different. You noticed yourself too, how he was more around then usual. You assumed it was because of his project or whatever.

Now you find yourself here, on the dance floor in the last drop. Inventions around you everywhere as music and colorful lights fill the bar. You look into the crowd, trying to spot Powder. It took you a whole 5 minutes to finally spot her, but to no suprise, Ekko was there. On the dance floor, with her. Dancing together to the beat of the music like it was just the two of them. You tried to move your eyes away from the sight, let them be happy and together. But the jealousy ate you from the inside out, this all just left a bitter taste on your tongue. It all got so overwhelming so quickly, so you decide to leave the place before you explode and do something stupid.

So you decide to go out to Powder's little Hideout for now and go back once you've cooled down. You look at the massive invention across the room, stunned as fuck how they made this. You don't want to pay too much attention to it though, so you continue walking through the massive space before sitting down in front of the small memorial that Powder made for Vi.

You lighten the place up before just.. Sitting there. You sigh, looking at the picture sat on the desk. Vi always knew you had a thing for Powder, she always encouraged you to tell her how you felt. Whenever the situation was on your mind, you'd go here. You'd talk, like she was still there. Because to you, she was. To everyone, she still was. Now wasn't any different, you talked about what has been going on recently. With Ekko, Powder, and everything else.

"I just.. Don't know what to do, I know I'm supposed to be happy for them.. Ekko is a great guy, a-and if they become a thing, I'll be fine with it but.. Theirs this voice in the back of my mind that just doesn't seem to go away.." You groan, your head in your hands as you thought for a moment.

You knew you couldn't hide your feelings forever. If Powder wasn't going to feel the same way towards you, you might as well tell her what you've been feeling all this time. Just for an answer, a yes or a no. Anything. If she didn't feel anything as well then at least she'd know.

"I'll tell her, tonight. Like you always wanted me to do.. I'll.. I'll get this over with, okay? For you."

You found yourself walking back towards the last drop, but then you see Powder, going in the direction of what you knew to be the place where Vi always took her to. So you decided to follow.

If only you weren't blind enough to see Ekko walking along with her.

You climbed up to the place, heart racing in your chest as you tried to think about the things you could say. Your mind was running a million miles and you tried desperately to calm your nerves.

You we're finally gonna do it, you we're gonna tell her how you feel.

But just as you nearly reach the top, you see her. And Ekko.

Their kissing.

In front of your eyes.

Your heart dropped, hope that you knew was useless in the end shattered as you saw the image.

Wrong fucking timing. You stood there, frozen in time before quickly getting out of there. Trying to hold back the tears that we're threatening to fall.

She likes Ekko. She only likes Ekko. It was never you. Not in childhood, not in teenage years.

She likes a boy. That boy.

Your not that boy, and for now, you had to live with that.

You we're never going to being the one kissing her. It was always going to be him in the end.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

OHH okay! Thank you for answering my question! Then, if you can, how would bat boys(or kyle lol) flirting with Mc, who at the end of the convo reveals that they have a kid(like 5yo) and would completely understand if they didn't wanted to take this further?

OR! OR OR OROR-

Imagine Mc is Bruce's daughter who was not involved in bat business and went abroad, hiding from the media with their partner, living their best life when all of the sudden, batfam visits and they both look at Mc and the baby in their arms and everyone's like "WDYM YOU HAVE A BABY AND WE NEVER KNEW- WDYM IT'S BEEN 3 MONTHS???" (basically the case that, you never showed the sighs of Pregnant went to labor and suddenly you have a kid you didn't even know existed til last minute. And in your panic and stress forgot to inform them but this is just what I think would happen you don't have to use it lol)

you don't have to do this lol, ty for taking time to read this<3 HAVE A GREAT DQYY!!

BATBOYS REACTING TO YOU HAVING A KID

pairing: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake x Reader (seperated) summary: Batboys flirt with you until they realise you have a small child warnings: none a/n: I didn't put Damian Wayne in here, I thought it felt a bit off, so I added Bruce to it! Thank you for the request, I chose the first option you described, but I'll maybe consider writing something for the second option. This is a little different from my usual format, but I made sure this still looks pretty and can be understandable. Thank you again and also have a great day!!!

BRUCE WAYNE

He saw you before, once, when he was Damian's dog out for a walk at the park nearby. At first, he didn't plan on flirting with you when Titus walked over and sniffed at your bag.

At first he was afraid you'd get scared when a Great Dane came your way and curiously sniffed at your handbag, but you didn't budge a muscle at him.

So, of course, Bruce came over to pick up the dog and hopefully not make you freak out. With a light jog, he quickly put the leash back on Titus, already looking sheepish at the situation.

"Sorry about him, he didn't scare you, did he?", but you seemed even amused at this. Maybe he underestimated you.

Soon enough, you got into a conversation, petted Titus gently, becoming even more fund of this big animal.

Bruce sat down beside you on the bench and kept talking to you, thinking you have a charming and kind personality. He'd be damned soon enough, he knows it.

That's how he started flirting with you; it started with subtle compliments until he couldn't help himself anymore. His nice words became progressively more direct, but still respectful as ever. All in all, he was sure he already got your heart.

That was until a small kid came up to you with a big smile, hands a bit dirty from the playing in the mud. That small human couldn't be older than five years old. He was confused for a moment as he watched the interaction between the two of you, eventually realising that is your kid.

God, he felt guilty. You were probably happily married with someone way better than him and just kept up with his flirting so you wouldn't come off as rude. Once the child went back to playing with the other group of kids on the playground, he tried his best to keep his embarrassment aside.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you had a kid. Well... I have four of my own, so..." He really doesn't know what to say. But you still remain kind and sweet, even though he was shamelessly flirting wtih you a second ago.

With a kind smile, you wave him off; "Oh, don't you worry. It was nice talking to you anyway. And you have kids of your own? How old are they?"

And that's how he continued talking to you, getting back to good terms and his embarrassment long forgotten. Seems like you both do have more in common than it seemed. Bruce couldn't be more happy than to keep talking to you and spend time, but you eventually parted ways after a longer while, with each other's phone numbers exchanged.

DICK GRAYSON

He was out with Damian to get ice cream when he saw you in the line, hoping he can get some quick excuse to talk with you alone. Yeah, Damian will annoy him for days about it and tell on him, but who cares? That's a one chance oppurtunity he's got there and he will use it.

Dick got Damian away by getting him into a cool book and supply store nearby, making his own way to you.

He didn't want to come off as too desperate or obvious, 'accidently' cutting you in line so he can strike a conversation with you in that way. You responded kindly to his small accident, waving him off politely.

The conversation started with him introducing himself shortly after, getting to know the basics about each other before he starts basically showering you with compliments. But he was trying to come off as subtle and charming as possible, which came naturally for him.

His light-hearted jokes and loving words seemed to work on you, so he didn't mind keeping this up while getting to know you more. Now with ice cream cones in your hands, you settled onto a table inside the cool shop and continued talking.

You got into more conversation once you sat down together and enjoyed the ice cream together, getting to know the other a little more once he stopped overflowing you with compliments.

But he got a bit confused when you got up to get another portion of ice cream, in a small cup with a sweet waffle in it. Curiously, he just had to ask you about it.

"Another ice cream?" It was more of a mutter to himself, but you still heard it when you sat down across from him again. "Oh, just for my son. He's playing there right now, but he told me to get him some ice cream aswell." You gesture towards the playground next to the ice cream shop, making him search for a small kid that could be yours.

Why didn't he notice earlier? It was so obvious now that he knows, why would someone get ice cream next to a playground anyway? He really tries to not think too much of it and get back on track, but he also didn't want to get into such a situation at all. But of course nothing ever goes his way.

Damian is next to him out of nowhere, asking him to go home. He probably got some books from that store he was just now, judging by the plastic bag in his hand.

"Is that your kid? You guys have the same nose. Cute." You smile sweetly at them, completely unaware of them being brothers. Dick shoots a pleading look to Damian, hoping he'll play along.

"Uh, yeah... that's Damian." Dick chuckles nervously and gets up from the chair, putting his hand on his shoulder. Damian looks more awkward than before, keeping his glare on you.

With the final excuse of Damian being tired, he gets out of the shop and hurries home, ignoring all the questions and annoyed remarks from Damian. He knows he probably should've been more careful, but now he just feels guilty for leaving so quickly and lying.

Eventually, he thought more about the situation. A kid doesn't sound so bad after all. So, without wasting any more time he made his way to the shop again, hoping you'll be there again, even when a few days have passed already.

JASON TODD

In all honesty, he wasn't fond of kids at the start. But it quickly changed when he was patrolling as Red Hood and just had to protect the kids in Crime Alley and at the area where he grew up in.

He met you in the local library, having spotted you at the romance section and he really didn't want to disturb you searching for a book at the moment.

He eventually got his courage and walked to the same section, trying to not come off as intimidating. It didn't work, you almost immediately got to the section next to it to search for... 'children books'? Whatever, he doesn't judge.

Jason tries to ignore you as he searches a book for himself, keeping his eyes on the shelf.

Days have passed and he spots you in the same section more often. It was interesting to him, how you just appeared there out of nowhere a few days back and now he wants to get to know you. Something like this never happened before, maybe he should just ignore it as well.

Finally, he got his courage up and decided to talk to you. With a book of his own in hand, he gets up to you, hoping he won't scare you away or become awkward all of a sudden in front of you.

He asks you about what books you recommend to him in the romance section and he is actually surprised to see how kindly you respond to him. But ignoring the small surprise, he just listens and nods along. Phrases as, "Oh, really? Yeah, I've also heard that one's good.", or "I've read that actually...", and a lot of "Okay, I'll keep that in mind."

He was really sweet to you as well, actually hoping you'll see him here more often whenever you visit the library for more books to read for your kid. And of course, Jason made sure to visit the place more often just to see you and read the books you recommended to him.

Eventually, he got to ask you out for a coffee date. But you declined, explaining you can't leave you kid alone for a longer time and apologise sincerely to him over and over again.

A kid? He was speechless for a moment before his heartbeat speeds up again. What the hell should he do? Is he even allowed to ask you out? After a brief explanation of your situation with your child, he relaxes and feels more hopeful again. In reality, he wants to keep seeing you and meet the kid. He's been told he is good with them after all.

And the day came when you introduced Jason to your daughter. It was a peaceful evening spent at your apartment with you three spending time together with some board games. Your daughter soon grew on him and she was actually more than sad when he had to leave for the night.

So, basically it's hard to tell who Jason is more fond of. Of course he adores you for who you are but your kid is just another ray of sunshine.

TIM DRAKE

Tim rarely got out for his own enjoyment but he is glad he did so that one time, because now he has someone to crush on. As stupid as it sounds, it's also true.

When he first saw you, he didn't think much about it. Just a regular person who also likes comics and other 'nerdy' stuff. But when he saw you reach for the same comic he actually wanted for a longer while, that's when he had to go up to you and talk. Not that he'd do that to every other person, but it seemeed like a good idea at the time.

You were so sweet to him, you even offered to let him have it, but he quickly declined and instead settled on a casual date to show you his collection. But there was this problem...

After a week of texting together and even sharing a few flirty comments, he was sure this could work out. Until you mentioned your son.

At first, he thought you might be joking, but he soon found out that you were honest and he tried to not come off as a total douche since he has no idea about kids.

You both settled on just going for walks for now and you even went with your sweet little kid together. Tim was unsure of the situation and made sure to set boundaries and find out if you even want to keep seeing each other. Of course, for once, whatever God there is, listened to him.

He got more comfortable around your son and found out that most comics are for him. A six-year-old reading comics about aliens and complex alien-politics? Well... he wasn't better at his age.

Soon, they both became really good friends and even better friends with you. Although he was still hesitant to make a move on you.

Either way, he is also happy with just helping you out and being close friends, even when the kid manages to impress him with his immense knoweledge about comics.

←MASTERLIST

[yanderes-galore]

For one piece request what about platonic shank with his daughter, that was obsessed by the whole pirate world because of her beauty now shank has to keep an eye on her so she doesn't get kidnapped

What a strange... predicament to be in.

Yandere! Platonic! Shanks with Daughter! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Violence, Blood, Murder, Isolation, Attempted kidnapping mentioned, Dubious companionship.

Honestly, I just pity you in this situation.

Any plans or dreams of having a normal life are shattered due to your charm.

You're well known in the pirate world... but not for the reasons you wish.

Many know you for being part of the Red Haired Pirates.

You're the daughter of Shanks, yet...

Many, unfortunately, know you for how pretty you are.

Being the daughter of an Emperor of the Sea already makes you quite the target.

Being pretty makes you an even bigger target.

After all, imagine the power someone would be given if they married the daughter of Shanks?

Safe to say, most of your life has been under the protection of your father's crew.

Shanks knows he isn't the best father at times... Yet he tries to do what he feels is right.

You're just so damn... vulnerable in this pirate world.

Shanks doesn't like how you're practically targeted by everyone.

Maybe he adopted you when you were older?

He didn't take you in just because you're pretty.

In fact he probably did it because he felt bad you were targeted by people like, oh I don't know...

Other Emperors or even Warlords?

Then of course he doesn't like how Marines target you too.

Even less so when you officially join Shanks' crew.

Shanks being an overprotective helicopter parent is understandable in this situation.

You're like Boa Hancock and sometimes Shanks wonders if you came from the same island....

The red haired pirates and many who are associated with them usually leave you be or protect you.

Anyone else... tends to be a threat.

I don't imagine you make many friends due to how the world ends up forcing your father to act.

You're both big targets due to status and Shanks constantly has to deal with people trying to be your suitor.

Shanks sees you as his sweet little girl... even if he adopted you as a teen.

He has such an intimidating aura when others try to talk to you.

You could be trying to have an innocent conversation with someone only for Shanks to be nearby... Haki practically radiating off him.

If Shanks' mere presence doesn't drive someone off and they seem to be a threat, he'll remove them by force.

He's even hesitant about friends unless they've shown they're an ally of Shanks.

He even trusts Luffy to a degree around you because... well... he knows Luffy wouldn't harm you.

The rest of the Straw Hats? Ehhh....

Shanks is used to people making moves against him.

Poor you no doubt has trauma due to past abduction attempts.

Be that for ransom, marriage, whatever...

You'd probably be too scared to leave your father's side, much to his relief.

After all, he was the one who saved you.

As long as you're by his side... You feel safe.

It's ironic as normally one would not feel safe around a yandere.

Yet when the entire pirate world wants you for one reason or another... you need someone to be there for you.

Shanks offered to be that help... Now he doesn't have to worry about abducting you because you trust him.

You need him...

How could he not help his beloved daughter?

It's unsurprising that Shanks murders for you.

After all... Pirates will not leave after a stern talking to.

Shanks already has to deal with other Emperors trying to get you for forced alliances or genuine desire....

It's safe to say he'll turn to bloodshed at times despite being a pacifist most of the time.

After all, if he doesn't show he can back up his bark with a bite...

No one will leave you alone.

It's scary to see Shanks covered in blood.

Yet afterwards he's always by your side, putting down his sword while he checks you over.

He always sees if you're okay, apologizing for what he had to do before ushering you back to your own room.

He loves you... but he also has to show the world he isn't an Emperor to be messed with.

He doesn't want you to be a bride of Kaido or married off to one of Big Mom's kids... or even worse be near Blackbeard...

Let alone be a marine pet....

Shanks wants you to be happy.

To make you happy, he needs to protect you.

You don't seem bothered to be on the ship all day as long as Shanks takes you places....

Not only that, but you believe every word he says.

Shanks promises keeping you in isolation is to protect you...

He'll try to limit his bloodshed, but sometimes it's necessary.

Shanks will do anything for his precious little girl...

Even if it means a bit of blood to keep the world away from you.

[eightmakesonebraincell]

how do you think bf!ateez would be like with a shy gf? :o

the ones who silently take care of you: seonghwa, san

nobody can convince me otherwise that hwa and san would not lay down their lives to make sure that you feel comfortable so long as you are with them. they are both extremely perceptive and know what you want or need before you even do. you want a tissue from the box but you're too shy to ask the strangers on the table beside you for one? he's already asked and placed the tissues in your hand. you're meeting his friends for the first time and you're nervous to talk to them? he's already told his friends in advance to make you feel welcome without overwhelming you with questions. they thrive off being able to protect and care for you in all these little ways, and the cute smiles, appreciative hugs and bashful pecks you give them in return? anything you ask for and don't ask for, they will move heaven and earth to give to you

the ones who make sure you are okay: hongjoong, mingi

honestly, i think both joong and mingi would wonder at first if you being quiet and withdrawn has something to do with them. are they doing or saying something that is making you feel uncomfortable? or they might wonder if something is going on in your life, like with your friends or family. they probably ask you every now and then just to check in and make sure you're okay and that nothing is wrong. but they come to understand that it's just your personality and you're naturally shy, so you need time to feel confident or warm up to settings and situations. they might take a more proactive approach to help you with your shyness–not in the sense that they want you to overcome it, but more in the sense to help you feel more at ease and less nervous, especially when they are not there for you. they encourage you in small ways to step outside of your comfort zone, but of course the moment they see that it might be too much for you, joong and mingi are stepping right in to help you. no matter what, you know that they are always watching you and have your back

the ones who are just as shy as you are: yeosang, jongho

it's probably a constant back and forth of finding each other endearing LOL. i feel like with yeo and jongho, because they are both also quite shy, a relatively new relationship would give such puppy love vibes. there are a lot of bashful giggles and awkward eye contact when you catch each other stealing glances at one another. in situations that might require confrontation, like the waiting staff confirming the wrong order when you're on a date at a restaurant, you would look at him and he would look at you and neither of you would correct the staff. that's the charm of your relationship though. you both go with the flow that doesn't make either of you uncomfortable, and it's very relaxed and easy-going. and let's be real, you both probably go home afterwards and laugh about (and shit-talk) the situations that neither of you were going to speak up about. introversion and shyness is just a part of the relationship and it works for you all

the ones who bring you out of your shell: yunho, wooyoung

their infectious energy and easy banter just makes it impossible for you to be shy around them. it does take a while at first, but once you're comfortable with them? shy girl who??? i feel like yun and woo just have a way of drawing out your hidden mischief and occasional brattiness, and god do they feel a sense of giddiness to know that they are one of the only people you show this side of yourself to. at the same time though, they are able to reign themselves in when a situation calls for it and they are extremely dependable. they make sure that you know you can rely on them in situations you aren't comfortable with, like if you're in an unfamiliar setting or a situation that requires confrontation. all in all, shyness doesn't exist when you are with yunho or wooyoung, but when certain people or environments bring that shyness back, they're right there for you to lean on

[itsnesss]

i’m so happy your reqs are open again omgomgomg !! can you please write a hwang jun ho x reader where he meets her while on duty as an officer, maybe her friends got caught speeding and they try to flirt with him but reader doesn’t flirt and has a very spacey she aloof personality and is kind of an outcast because people think she’s strange so she’s just polite to jun ho and it catches his attention ? tysm !!

𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | fluff, brief mention of traffic violations, social anxiety themes, reader with an aloof/distant personality, mutual intrigue

word count | 1.0 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The car sped down the road, the sound of the engine filling the space. Your friends laughed and chatted non-stop about anything that crossed their minds, but you only heard them as a distant murmur. You were used to that disconnection, to being there without really participating, lost in your thoughts while the world moved on around you.

You sat in the passenger seat, gazing out the window with your head slightly tilted. The scenery blurred past quickly, but you weren’t really paying attention. Every now and then, a random thought would float into your mind, making you ponder things even you didn’t fully understand. But the sharp sound of a siren pulled you back to reality.

“Oh no!” one of your friends exclaimed from the back seat, nervously glancing at the rearview mirror. “We’re getting pulled over!”

The car began to slow down as your friend at the wheel tried to stay calm, though you could tell she was flustered. You, however, felt nothing in particular—just the usual distance you always felt. You were used to letting things unfold without much drama.

The car came to a complete stop, and you heard the door of the patrol car open. One of your friends immediately perked up, smiling flirtatiously as she adjusted her hair.

“Let’s see what happens, girls,” she said in an exaggeratedly sweet tone. You could see the excitement in her eyes, as if this were just another chance to impress a guy.

You sighed quietly, already knowing what she was up to. She was preparing to flirt with the officer who was about to approach. The other girls started whispering, clearly hoping the situation would go smoothly thanks to their charms.

And then, you saw him. The officer walked up to the driver’s side window, and for a moment, you found yourself watching him. He was tall, with a firm and professional demeanor, but there was something in his expression that felt different. It wasn’t like the other cops you’d seen before. There was something in his gaze that made you take notice, though in your self-contained world, you tried to avoid unnecessary interactions.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” he greeted in a clear, serious voice. He didn’t seem impressed by the smiles your friends offered, which gave you a slight sense of relief. “Do you know you were speeding?”

“Oh, officer!” one of your friends cooed, her tone overly sweet. “The traffic’s just been awful today, don’t you think? I’m sure we could work something out... if you know what I mean,” she added, making no effort to hide her playful tone.

You watched the interaction with mild disinterest, your eyes briefly flicking to the officer. While your friends kept flashing him their best smiles, you simply sat still, relaxed but distant. Flirting wasn’t your thing. It wasn’t how you operated. You simply waited for everything to be over so you could get on with your day.

The officer looked at your friends for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, his eyes shifted toward you. That’s when you finally lifted your head, meeting his gaze. Although he had barely noticed you before, now it felt like his attention was focused on you. There was no surprise, no superficial interest—just a subtle curiosity that made you feel both uncomfortable and intrigued.

“Any particular reason for the speeding?” he asked you directly this time, his tone serious but not harsh, as if he genuinely wanted to understand the situation.

“No,” you replied calmly, your voice even and soft. “I wasn’t paying attention to the speed.

There was a brief pause, and you felt his gaze linger on you longer than expected. Something about his demeanor unsettled you. He wasn’t looking at you the way others often did—there was no empty fascination, no surface-level interest. There was something more, something that made you feel seen in a way you weren’t used to.

Finally, he gave a slow nod. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time, but I suggest you be more careful next time.” His tone remained firm, but there was no trace of annoyance. He seemed to be simply doing his job, yet there was something about the way he addressed you that felt... different.

“Thank you, officer,” you murmured politely—not overly enthusiastic, but not rude either. Just enough to acknowledge his words.

Before turning away, he cast one last glance at you. This time, it wasn’t about the speeding or the formalities—it felt more personal. The interaction wasn’t like the others you’d had, where people either ignored you or found you strange. He hadn’t fallen for your friends’ charms, nor had he treated you like you were invisible. Instead, he’d noticed you.

The car started up again, and your friends burst into laughter, clearly thrilled with how things had turned out. “God, he was so hot! Did you see him? I totally would’ve said something more,” one of them giggled.

Your mind, however, was elsewhere. You didn’t care if he was hot or not. What stayed with you was how he had treated you—not like the others, not like someone trying to impress or be impressed, but like someone who saw people for who they really were. At least, that’s what it felt like.

You stayed quiet as the car continued down the road. Your friends kept talking, but you couldn’t stop thinking about him. About his gaze. About how, for once, someone hadn’t tried to win you over with empty words, but had simply done his job. And for some reason, that intrigued you more than any smile ever could.

[neosexuals]

( pay attention ) — ₊ ⊹ ! Part 2

Synopsis : Mark is by every account the most popular teacher in your university. He was just that good, he was funny, charming, a good teacher and most of all he was drop dead gorgeous.

Warnings/pairings : smut (‼️) , english teacher! Mark , University au , reader is 20 mark is 27 , dom! Mark , sub ! Reader , mark uses fancy language cuz go figure english prof, mark is a meanie, makeshift tie gag??, pet names, reader has feelings towards mark? maybe?. use of the word slut, squirting.

A/n : 🤕 I didn't want to write big age gap tall I'm sorry 💔 maybe some other day. Also marks kind of a bitch (and I love it) not proof read :P @n4nam1i

Pt 1 pay attention

_

When it had reached the end of the day you had sprinted your way to marks office, he was sitting there. Suited up, his collar untidy along with his loose tie. "Sir?" You knocked on his wide open door you could tell it had been a rough day for him.

"yes?" His messy hair made it all the more worse, not only did you touch yourself to the thought of your English professor yesterday but it left you longing for him. "Oh y/n come in please" and so you did, closing the door behind you.

Before commenting on his fatigued look you helped yourself to the seat infront of him. "Tough day sir?" To say mark was one of those uptight teachers was a complete lie, being the youngest amongst them, he's always been one to talk casually to his students. "Sorry does it look bad?" He rushed in to fix his hair combing it down with his fingers.

"no it's okay" you pouted your lips at him, that was pretty assuring to him. "Fine uh let's get with it hm" with that you dropped your bag onto the floor before mark got up, you weren't sure what he was up to before he grabbed his chalk. Oh my god he actually started teaching you, repeating what he had taught to the class today since again you werent paying attention. Sighing once again, this was not what you signed up for.

He was confused when he turned back at you, why were you not paying attention? To him you were free of being distracted by him since it's a one on one class. But to you all you could look at was his fat ass and his crooked glasses.

"y/n I'm genuinely confused now" your eyes were already on him, just the wrong parts of him. "What happened now?" He stared at you sighing, taking his glasses off "sir... it's nothing Serious honestly-"

Cut off by his words "listen y/n I really didn't wanna do this but"a lie, blatant at that, another sigh escaped his lips "strip"

"what?"

"I said strip."

"but-"

"say no, and noone has to speak about this"

You weren't all apposed to the idea. Honestly you wanted it as much as he demanded, but it was quite embarrassing considering the situation, but it got you soaked. "Now. Are you going to strip or no darling?" That nickname. Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared him down from the chair, trying to understand the situation laid before you.

“Don't act dumb, you’ve wanted me..” he lets out a dry chuckle, your insides turning at how forward he was being. His glasses quickly being moved from resting on his face to on the desk, he moved closer to you, his breath tickling your ear “I’ve seen how you rub those pretty thighs under your desk, I’m not stupid you know" stepping back; sitting back down.

You started with your jacket, then your top. You couldn't bear him seeing you full naked "don't be so shy" he paused moving towards you "I won't look elsewhere" his eyebrows cocked at you along with a fake pout forming on his face, Pulling your arms away from your body.

God you forgot how hot the English language can be, his figure now towering over you as he tugs on the hem of your shirt before throwing it over your head. "Fuck" and other curses left him as he stares sinfully at the mere sight of your bra clad chest , borderline drooling at this point.

He snakes his hands down to your waist, finally inching towards the place you need him the most. His thumb slowly caress your hips, drawing circles atop it. "The skirt stays on pretty" the nickname combined with the stern tone causes your already weak knees to bend as you nod shakily.

He mumbled a little 'good girl' before slowly running his fingers up your thigh, his free hand moving to your nape, pushing your head closer to his. Too focused on the sensation of lips pressed against yours you miss when his singular had had slipped your panties down to your ankles. Sighing out a cracked 'sir' against his lips when two of his fingers press against your clit, His hand moving from your nape to your back, slipping down just enough to unclasp your bra.

he takes a step back as he relishes your body, eyes gleaming, his hands reach out once again cupping your cunt. "Sir.." you finally find it in you to look at hm in the eye, shooting a confused glance at him "call me mark darling" his breath hot against your ear ".....sir is...." - he mumbles- "odd" his words fish a giggle out of you, not to say you didn't find it hot but the contrast in tone makes your heart skip a beat.

Before he could earn a proper response out of you his fingers press onto your clit. "you shouldnt be laughing when your drenched down here...now should you?" you never missed the smug tone and smirk he threw at you.

"dirty girl " his lips latched onto your neck, soft and small pecks,You'd orgasm right then and there just by his words alone. His agonizingly slow strokes against your clit don't help either, letting out whimpers when he pressed the digits against your core. Small pleas leave your mouth over and over, his teasing topping you off.

"p-please sir" his eyes shoot up at you, removing his lips from your collar bone fingers still going back and forth along your slit "what did I say..? Hm Darling?" That was the final straw for him, one digit followed by another until it's a complete trio stuffed up your cunt.

“N-Not— MARK!”

that was all you could get out before going slack, dumb and cumming all over his fingers all way too quick. “That’s it….” His raspy voice fills your senses while all you can do is smile back at him, falling back down on the leather chair. You rest your head back as you feel your skirt and skin stick to each-other , you felt wet all over. “So good for me…think you could take my cock like this?” His tone sincere with a tinge of sarcasm.

“Hm? Think you could handle it darling…?” He lets out a soft chuckle watching your dumb state nodding like an idiot “yeah? You’re so dumb already” you open your eyes for a moment only to be met with a sulky pout. It’s not about weather or not you could handle anything at this point, to you, you just needed his cock. Letting out a string of pleas begging for even just the tip.

And after 2 or 3 tries he starts take of his own pants, completely naked other than the flimsy white shirt that lays atop him. “Shit i dont have a condom...” he muttered just loud enough for you to hear "I do..." He smiles at you and let's out yet another chuckle, you grab the condom out of your bag and hand it over to him. "Ofcourse you do...slut" the last word you could bearly hear but you could read his lips so clearly. It made you feel all sticky inside, the way he'd say the word so endearingly your heart had jumped right into your throat.

You had gotten into position by now, your thighs spread out sitting on his messy desk. Papers all over the floor and pens rattling around, you felt exposed. "Sir…..” you could only breath out the honorific "mark." His voice Stern once again before you could blink you heard the sound of a packet ripping. The condom, you knew it was the condom. "Now say please for me darling" you were melting right in front of him, arousal dripping onto his desk already exposed "please.....please mark" leaning in he kissed your cheek before pushing you flush against the desk legs dangling off the desk.

his cock sliding up and down your folds teasingly, his cock felt like everything you thought it would. thick just enough to have you holding onto him for dear life, begging to feel just a bit more of him.

"m-mark" his eyes bore into where you had intertwined , "yeah?" fuck his voice was so tantalizing "k-kiss..." a whine-like noise came out of you when he slapped your face as a response, cupping your flushed cheeks before kissing you silly "stay quiet now would you"

he so conveniently grabs his tie from behind you, would he tie your hands?

all thoughts fizzle out once he brought the bunched up fabric to you wide open mouth, muffling your whines and pleas as each thrust shook you right to the core, more things falling off the desk as he made you see heaven.

you tightened each time, the teacher who would always stay so pure and sweet was fucking you into oblivion, "shit- loosen up for me darling - fuck" you physically couldn't, his thrust erraticly pushing you closer and close "what is it? cock too big for your sweet lil' pussy?" you nodded slowly "yeah? you close baby" hearing him speak so casually was a dream nodding became rapid as you let out one last guttural whine, still muffled, as you came all over.

did you....it was a new feeling to say the least, leaking everywhere, you fucking squirted mark finally came riding out his and your orgasm "fuck- didn't know you were a squirter" he spoke as if he gave you the most midcore experience of your life ruffling the back of his head before removing the spit clad tie from your mouth, drool sticking to the tie "m' not..." Mark had never made someone squirt before, it was unbelievable , his eyes wide with shock "I've never.....squirted before"

"so i did that?" you nodded, still out of it. "fuck- you felt amazing darling i-" you could barely move so you'd hope you were a good experience "I'm glad, but could you help me sir?" his smile quickly faded "mark. or do i have to fuck it back into you?" he joked, as much as you would very much like that you wouldn't want it now, here. he helped you up grabbing your waist and wrapping your arm around his shoulders "there you go..." he mumbled.

you'd dress up as quickly as you could, as so did he, "y/n" he had called out as you tried to get as much of shit you'd thrown on the floor back on his desk, catching your attention you looked up at him, "i mean it, you were amazing, and i wouldn't mind doing this again" you felt as if you could burst. all you could do was smile and nod "you were amazing too....if you hadn't noticed"

after cleaning up finally, you had left his room, a dopey smile spreading across your face as it all sits in.

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

Random whb characters when MC is stressed about exams

In honor of my exams this year

Satan

He could feel you being a bit on edge every once in a while and whenever Ppyong left for the human world you would ask he got you some notebooks, which he found absurd

Why are you studying at a time like this? We're in a middle of a war! Why are you reading Morometii?!

Satan yanks your book from your hands

Mc: I need that! Give it back!

Satan: No! Mc! You understand that if you die in this war you're not going to take any exam!

Mc: Don't threaten me with a fun time

Satan: Suicide is not an option I'm ever giving you.

Gamigin

He can sense you're worrying about something, his nurse senses tingling

You can't hide anything from him, especially when it comes to your health

He'll lightly scold you for putting your wellbeing on the line for an exam, but he tries to understand the feeling better

If it's something to do with anatomy he'll help! And if he doesn't understand something he just takes it to Lucifer.

If it's about anything else, he'll listen to you. He's quite a swift learner, so he makes for the perfect student

MC: It's a story about loneliness and being crushed by the expectations of a grim capitalist society

Gamigin: Damn... why do you have to learn such things?

MC: So we're prepared for adulthood

Gamigin: You should move to Paradise Lost. We don't have this capitalism you speak of. I'll ask big brother Lucifer if he's ok with us sharing a bed!

Mammon

His master is stressed and now his protective insticts are kicking in

When you explain to him you're scared about exams, he'll be more confused than anything

Why are you even studying? He already owns everything and you own him. Why even bother learning to get a job

You try to explain that you need the diploma and that's when he gets it

You're greedy for grades and knowledge. Got it!

He hires the best tutors in the whole of hell to come mentor you. He also asks Buer to help relax you with massages and yoga. He's not entirely sure how they work, but they seem affective

He'll make sure that you don't just bury yourself in your studies and actually go outside and socialise every day

He is not combating the sugar daddy allegations

Mammon: How was your tutoring today, master?

MC: Really nice, but I'm exhausted...

Mammon: It's alright, I hired the best relaxation professionals to help you out. Something about taking away dark spirits.

MC: I think you got scamed by a cult...

Mammon: That's silly! I know Buer and he's very trustworthy. Should I carry you to your appoitment?

MC: Yes, please!

Asmodeus

Ah, yes, school, he forgot you had to do that

Well, he's a believer in learning by doing

If it's something practicle, he'll just put you in a situation where you have to deal with the problem discribed in your notebook

If it's something theoretical he's actually quite a smart guy, he'll help you out.

He'll play the devils advocate in every situation or try to confuse you. If you can outwit a skeptic you trully know what you're doing

He's surprisingly unsexual in these situations. Sure, he gropes you and insists on either cuddling or sitting on his lap, but he doesn't activate his charm until you're done

After all, he needs to show you he's the best mate you'll ever have by showcasing his vast knowledge of humanitarian studies

After he feels you've finished your lesson, he'll gladly take his pay and teach your virgin body knew pleasures. But he can be patient if it's for his mate

Asmodeus: So? What answer did you get for 57?

MC: It's B

Asmodeus: Are you sure?

MC: Yeah. Because if we take the oportunity cost only takes into account the most desirable choice we didn't take

Asmodeus: If you say so~

MC: I mean... let me check the answer sheet

Asmodeus: Nah nah nah, no cheating. I'm just asking, darling. Don't get impatient. If I can wait, so can you

MC: I hate you

Asmodeus: Such mean words from such a cute mouth. Now, let's do number 58

[carto0ncritter]

I'm sorry but I genuinely can't understand how people can look at Stolitz and Catradora and think these ships are healthy in any way, shape or form.

Stolas r*ped Blitzø. No, consent given in a life-or-death situation doesn't count

Stolas is racist towards imps, and this didn't change even when he "fell in love" with Blitzø

Stolas doesn't appreciate or respect Moxxie and Millie in the slightest (and was disappointed that his "Prince Charming" wasn't the one to rescue him)

He looks down on Blitzø and calls him things like "impish little plaything" and "his big dicked Blitzy" and doesn't stop treating him like shit even when Blitzø says loud and clear that he hates being talked down on like this (DUH)

The only thing Stolas knows about Blitzø is that he hates books and the only thing Blitzø knows about Stolas is that he's a boring bookworm. Keep in mind, the two figured this out about each other while they were kids, 25 YEARS AGO, after Blitzø was bought so that he could be Stolas' "friend" for ONE DAY

Stolas doesn't love Blitzø for Blitzø. Stolas loves the *idea* of Blitzø. The bird man wants to live a romance that is just like the romances in his cheesy novels. He wants to ride into the sunset with his one true love. He wants grand romantic gestures. He wants his "Prince Charming". Except, Blitzø isn't the type of guy for such sappy displays of affection, he never was. Especially combined with his trauma. And as soon as that other imp guy asked him to dance, Stolas not only accepted the offer, but Blitzø was no longer on his mind. And no, I don't think being drunk is proof that Stolas didn't mean what he had told Blitzø. Drunk people find it easier to say what's really on their mind after all

Blitzø fell in love with his abuser. This makes sense, actually. The guy always pushed everyone away and never got to experience true love, and now that he has the chance to be "wanted," even if the "relationship" is toxic, he finds it hard to let it go

As for Catradora, the things I wanna say about this ship have already been said throughout the years, but it all boils down to these things:

Catra mentally, emotionally and physically abused Adora

Catra had no problem ending the whole entire universe if it meant she'd finally be better than Adora

Catra was a war criminal and a fascist

Catra was responsible for what happened to Glimmer's mom and never apologized, let alone faced consequences

Their relationship was toxic even when they were kids

They were both raised by Shadow Weaver and were the only ones in the Horde who saw her as a mother figure, thus making the ship straight up incest, with even the official source material calling them sisters (adoptive siblings ARE REAL SIBLINGS!!!)

Catra got exactly what she wanted in the end (the girl she's always been obsessed with and dependent on) and, once again, faced 0 consequences for her actions

The show (and C//A stans) fetishizes abuse. As a SA survivor, I felt physically sick during the final episode, where the abuser ends up with her victim/sister and they kiss

In short, these ships are disgusting and the lgbt community deserves better representation

[spectrumos]

I have to say I love miquella. I adore his aspirations and desire to relieve the suffering of others.

but he has suicide bomb soldiers in the Haligtree!

I aint TRUSTING someone who can charm people and has fucking SUICIDE BOMBERS. No matter what justification you have for that! Whether they figured out how to do that on their own, or Miquella just intended to give them a blessing, or whatever you can think of.

A leader who commands that level of belief and fanaticism, whether intentional or not, NEEDS to look in a fucking mirror.

LIKE, HOLY FUCK

Soldiers shouldn't WANT to sacrifice their lives! A kind leader would want them to try to fucking survive, yeah?

I know I couldn't stand the idea that someone, BECAUSE of their belief in our cause, or worse, their belief in ME!? would choose to MARTYR themselves rather than run!

Edit: I've taken a closer look at the haligtree soldier ashes and it says they only started exploding after he'd been gone for a long time.

But it still reflects on Miquella's existing pattern of leadership.

Idolatry.

I understand that he likely views this as completely normal, due to what culture he was raised in, but you shouldn't be a ruler and literally a subject of worship at the same time. If Miquella never came back, and his charm broke, the people there would still worship him.

Soldiers who decide to blow themselves up just to get you back home rather than organize and work together to improve their situation is highly reflective on you as a leader.

acting like Shadow of the Erdtree was a straight up lie, a retcon, and betrayal of the previous writing on Miquella is honestly very fucking irritating.

It's a consistent expansion on his character. Someone who's so desperate to do the right thing that they're utterly blind to the folly of the actions they've taken along the way, or FAR worse, rationalizes and justifies them?

Someone who's childhood taught him that nobody could be trusted to help him if they're not loyal to his cause. maybe too loyal.

Somebody who refuses to shed blood as sacrifice and instead sheds himself. But dooms the world in doing so (Were the tarnished not there to stop him) with the fucking strongest man in the world at the vanguard?

How is he going to spread his order? Hugs?

I find it disturbing he seems to accept the necessity of war but would rather sacrifice his own judgement than sacrifice lives for godhood.

I don't know of that's weird of me but whatever.

screaming

Additionally, the defense of Miquella's charm being "he used it in an ethical way" is fucking laughable and I utterly despise it.

That power is unethical.

Full. Stop.

Coercion is already evil. (Yes, our society does it all the time. It may effectively be a natural part of life, but it's still used to oppress.)

And directly influencing someone's mind in a way they literally cannot resist (the only person who could resist it was the tarnished because we got his great rune) is far worse!

No person, god, or BEING can just use a power like that ethically. The power to do that is a temptation in and of itself.

Try to look at things from an angle of power imbalance, will yah? There's a reason power corrupts etc. is a saying.

Whenever a person holds great power, no matter how pure their intentions, they will misuse it and cause suffering.

Which is why I could never willingly let Miquella become a god. I'd sooner see him dead than that, because there's no way he could possibly make himself "pure" enough by removing fucking pieces of his very self!

A god who never feels doubt, indecision, fear, and love?

That's just a tyrant with even more tyranny than before!

A leader HAS to doubt their actions! If they cannot doubt, there's no room for anyone to protest their decisions!

The options, given his powers, are coercion, literally either killing those who resist, or fucking brainwashing them!

in the end, this game, and this dlc, are

A FUCKING.

TRAGEDY.

ALWAYS HAS BEEN!

Rant over. Sorry if this hurt anyone's feelings, I'm just so irritated it's turned to anger, and I NEEDED to let it out.

[eu-nicola]

arranged marriage part 2

sinopsis: after the death of his girlfriend in an accident, Rafe falls into a severe depression. His family offers him a family friend, Arabella, with whom he has always had a bad relationship, to marry him for the good of the family.

warnings: arranged marriage, barely named violence, etc

author's note: this story is very long, english is not my first language, the tags are not correct so don't tell me anything cause I ALREADY KNOW, then I'm going to correct

word count: 5375

mention: @cwufst @constantsadness @urbrunettebombshell @pinkpoetrycrown

The next morning, Arabella woke up in the same large, empty bed she had spent the night in. The chill of the empty sheets beside her reminded her of the reality of the previous night. The silence of the room was overwhelming, interrupted only by the faint sound of the wind filtering through the windows. Daylight streamed in timidly, making the opulent decor of the room look even grander and, somehow, more suffocating.

It wasn't long until the door slowly opened, and Sarah poked her head in with a smile on her face. She was dressed in a light robe, her hair still somewhat messy from the night before, but her eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Good morning, Mrs. Cameron!" she said in a playful tone, stepping fully into the room. She sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Arabella expectantly. "So? How did your first night as a married woman go?"

Arabella slowly stood up, stretching a little and letting a long sigh fall from her lips before answering. There was no emotion on her face, just a cool calm that reflected what had happened the night before.

"Well, if you're expecting to hear stories of romance and lit candles... you're going to be disappointed," Arabella said with a small, wry smile. "Rafe didn't even touch me. He made it clear to me that... well, that I disgust him and he wants nothing to do with me."

Sarah's eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting that answer. Although she knew that Rafe hadn't been the most charming man in the weeks leading up to the wedding, she hadn't imagined things would be so tense between them.

"What?" Sarah exclaimed, a mix of surprise and concern in her voice. "Did he tell you that? It can't be! Rafe was upset, yes, but... I thought that with time, things between you two would calm down."

Arabella gave a bitter laugh. "Yes, that's what he said. He made it very clear to me that this is just a farce for him. So, honestly, I'd rather he didn't speak to me while he could. Everything will be fine as long as he doesn't do something stupid that would jeopardize our 'perfect marriage'." She paused, and then, with a spark of dark humor in her eyes, she added, "Because if he does, believe me, Sarah, I could kill him."

Sarah laughed out loud, understanding that her friend was joking, although there was a grain of truth in those words. She knew that Arabella was frustrated, but she also recognized that resilience that characterized her, that way of facing difficult situations with sarcastic humor.

"Well, if you decide to kill him, let me know first. Maybe I can help you hide the body," Sarah joked, but then her expression became more serious as she took Arabella's hand. "But seriously, Belle, Rafe is angry, and I understand. This whole thing has been crazy, especially after what happened. I'm not justifying his behavior, but I think with time... things can get easier."

Arabella pressed her lips together, feeling the weight of Sarah's concern. She knew her friend only wanted to help, but there was something about the way Rafe had rejected her that hurt her more than she was willing to admit. Still, she didn't want Sarah to worry too much.

"I know, I know," she replied, shaking her head slightly. "And as long as I stay out of his way and he stays out of mine, everything will be okay. I just need time to find a way to... bear it."

Sarah gave her hand a squeeze before letting go. "I'll always be here for you, you know that, right? If you need to talk, vent, or even get away for a while, just tell me. We'll get through this together."

Arabella smiled at her gratefully. "Thank you, Sar. Knowing I have you by my side is the only thing that helps me stay sane in this mess."

The two of them were silent for a moment. Despite everything that was happening, knowing that Sarah had her back gave her a small spark of hope.

"Well," Arabella finally said, with a sigh. "It seems I have to get used to living in this house, and in this marriage..."

Sarah nodded, but before she could say anything else, a light laugh escaped from Arabella.

"I just... hope he doesn't do anything that will make me lose my temper, because then there will be no turning back." Sarah looked at her, surprised by the joke. "I'm serious! Of all the things I've endured... I don't know how much more I can take before I do something radical."

They both laughed, relieved by that small respite of humor.

After a few minutes of laughter, Arabella lay back down on the bed and let out a long sigh. Silence settled between the two of them again, until she looked at Sarah, a mix of resignation and nervousness on her face.

"Well, I think it's time for me to get ready for breakfast," she finally said, getting out of bed and stretching her arms out. "And also pray that Rafe decides to show up."

Sarah nodded, a crooked smile on her lips. “Yes, that would be the smart thing to do… although you know what he is like.”

Arabella snorted as she walked to the dressing room to find something to wear. “Of course I do. In fact, that’s exactly what worries me. You never know what to expect from him, especially now.”

As she pulled out a white linen dress, Arabella felt tense. Despite how awkward the wedding had been and how Rafe had left her alone the night before, she knew she had to keep up the facade.

“What if he doesn’t show up?” Sarah asked, helping Arabella adjust the blouse. “What are you going to do?”

Arabella paused, her eyes meeting Sarah’s in the mirror. “If he doesn’t show up, I guess I’ll have to make something up.” The worry on her face was evident, but she tried to hide it with a forced smile. “The last thing I want is for them to start asking questions.”

Sarah put a hand on Arabella’s shoulder and gave her a small, supportive squeeze. "Don't worry, he'll show up for sure, I don't think he wants dad to bother him."

Arabella nodded and finished getting ready. When she was ready, they both walked down the stairs to the dining room.

"I just hope this morning doesn't turn into another disaster," Arabella murmured as they walked down the hall.

Sarah laughed softly. "Disaster? In this house? Impossible," she joked.

As they approached the dining room, Arabella took a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever might happen.

When Arabella and Sarah arrived in the dining room, the first thing Arabella noticed was the figure of Rafe already sitting at the table. Her heart skipped a beat immediately, and tension ran through her body like lightning. She hadn't expected to see him there so early, much less ready for breakfast. The mere sight of him sitting there, with that expression of indifference on his face, made her nerves soar.

Rafe looked up as soon as he saw them enter, and for a second, Arabella felt the atmosphere become even more charged. There was no trace of the man who had rejected her so coldly the night before, but that only confused her more. However, to her surprise, Rafe got up from the table.

With a calmness she didn't recognize in him, he walked towards her and, without saying a word, pulled out a chair so Arabella could sit. The polite gesture caught her off guard, but she tried to hide it and settled into the seat he offered her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, barely meeting Rafe’s eyes. He just nodded and returned to his spot, taking a seat next to her. Arabella could sense the tension between the two, but they were both clearly making an effort to keep up appearances, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Sarah, who sat across the table from her with a smile that tried to lighten the mood.

As the servants began to bring breakfast, the dining room slowly filled up. Ward and Rose arrived shortly after, and the questions began almost immediately.

“Well, how are you feeling after your first day as husband and wife?” Ward asked with a smile that, to Arabella, seemed to have a sharper edge than usual.

Arabella pursed her lips slightly, but Rafe was the one who answered first, his voice surprisingly calm. “All very well, sir. We are settling in.”

His tone was neutral, and Arabella knew he was making an effort to sound convincing. For her part, she forced a smile and nodded, hoping she wouldn't have to say much more on the subject. The questions kept coming, but she and Rafe navigated the conversation carefully, answering just what was necessary without revealing anything about themselves.

Rose, ever observant, noticed the silence in the interactions between Arabella and Rafe, but didn't comment on it. Ward, on the other hand, seemed to be pleased with how they were handling the situation. Arabella, though uncomfortable, remained composed, feigning interest in the breakfast and the conversation, while her mind was elsewhere.

On more than one occasion, she felt Rafe's gaze on her, and though she knew he was making an effort to act like an attentive husband, she couldn't help but wonder what was really going on in his head.

As breakfast progressed, the questions continued, from trivial matters to questions about the future of the marriage. "And when will we be given the joy of a grandchild?" Rose joked, but the comment made Arabella tense even more. It was too early to even think about such things, and the words caught in her throat. Before she could say anything, Rafe intervened again.

"In time," he replied, in a dry but controlled tone, nipping any further jokes or awkward questions on the subject in the bud.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, breakfast came to an end.

As the others began to disperse, Rafe rose from the table without a word and left the room without a glance at Arabella. She sat there, still, with the bitter taste of the perfect performance they had both just given.

Sarah, who had remained silent for most of breakfast, walked over to Arabella and put a hand on her shoulder, as if trying to comfort her without saying anything.

The day passed slowly for Arabella. After the awkward breakfast, Rafe disappeared without a word, leaving her alone. As the hours passed, her frustration grew. She knew that her marriage was not one based on love, but she at least expected Rafe to make the effort to keep up appearances. After all, they were both caught up in this.

Arabella spent the afternoon between small tasks, trying to distract herself with Sarah, who encouraged her not to think too much about the situation. But Rafe's absence, his indifference, was driving her crazy. Where was he? What was he doing? And most importantly, why was he acting as if this marriage didn't matter to him one bit? They were supposed to, at least publicly, keep up the facade of being a happy couple, or at least committed to the union.

When night came and Rafe still didn't show up, Arabella felt rage take over her. The hours passed, and the silence in her room only made her anger grow. The lights in the house were already off, and there was still no sign of him.

Finally, close to midnight, she heard the bedroom door open. Rafe walked in as if nothing had happened, his expression cold and impassive. Arabella, who had been waiting for him, got out of bed with her fists clenched. She wasn't going to let this go by without saying something. Not tonight.

“Where the hell have you been?” she blurted, her voice sharp as she crossed her arms in front of him.

Rafe, taken aback by her tone, glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t stop. He made his way to the dressing room, ignoring her anger, and began unbuttoning his shirt as if nothing had happened.

“Rafe, I’m talking to you. It’s our first day married and you’re already being a jerk,” Arabella continued, her voice rising with each word.

He let out a heavy sigh, as if her words were wearing him out. “Don’t bother me, Arabella. I’m not in the mood.”

That only fueled his anger further. She stepped closer to him, challenging his indifference. “I didn’t marry you so you could ruin this whole thing from the start. I don’t care if you don’t love me, but you could at least behave like a good husband.”

Rafe quickly turned to her, his face now filled with irritation. “I told you not to bother me,” he growled, gripping her arm tightly. His fingers dug into her skin, but Arabella was undaunted.

“No!” she screamed, wrenching herself from his hold. She glared at him, her heart pounding. “As long as you’re married to me, you’re going to behave. If you want to go off with other women, do it. But in front of people, you’ll be the perfect husband. I’m not going to let you ruin this.”

Rafe fell silent, his eyes fixed on her. He’d never seen Arabella so determined, so full of fire. Despite his anger, there was something about her attitude that unnerved him. This wasn’t the shy girl he’d known for years; this was a woman who wasn’t going to let herself be trampled on. Something inside him stirred, a mix of frustration and unexpected attraction.

Arabella, without waiting for a response, turned on her heel and walked out of the room. The slam of the door echoed down the hall, leaving him alone in the silence of the room.

Rafe stood in the same spot, still bewildered by the fight. He looked down at his hands, still remembering the feel of Arabella's skin under his fingers, and realized how strong the fight had been. He never expected her to stand up to him like that, let alone with such determination.

He slumped down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He knew she was right. If they were to survive this marriage, he would have to do more than disappear and drink himself to forget. He would have to do his part, or at least pretend.

Rafe closed his eyes, trying to calm the storm of thoughts in his mind, but Arabella's words kept echoing in his head.

A few weeks passed, with Rafe trying hard to stay within the role of "good husband," keeping up appearances at family meals, accompanying Arabella to social events, and exchanging a few kind words when they were in public. But every night, when the rest of the house was asleep, Rafe would disappear. He would leave without warning, and even though he tried to be discreet, Arabella always noticed. The sound of the door closing softly but firmly woke her up every time, and even though she didn't say anything, she felt how this nightly routine was feeding a silent anger inside her.

Arabella wasn't entirely sure where Rafe went or who he met, but she sensed it. This marriage had already put her in a difficult position, and now she added the fact that he would disappear at night, making it clear that he didn't care what she thought or felt. Even though she didn't tell anyone, the situation made her angrier than she wanted to admit.

One Saturday, however, was an important day: Arabella's 19th birthday. The Cameron family had planned a party in her honor. It would be a big party, with friends and acquaintances. There was a theme for the celebration: a white party, where all the guests had to wear white, except Arabella.

From early on, the house was already in full swing. The staff was running around, preparing every detail: lights, flowers, music, drinks. White decorations hung all over the place, while the glass tables sparkled under the afternoon sun. Sarah, who was more excited than Arabella about the party, had spent the whole morning helping her choose her dress.

"You're going to look stunning tonight," Sarah had told her with a mischievous smile as she handed her the bright red dress she had chosen for the occasion. It was a long, form-fitting dress with delicate embroidery that reflected the light with every movement. It contrasted perfectly with the wedding ring Arabella wore on her hand.

Amidst all the whiteness of the party, she would be the only one standing out.

Sarah was also excited that her boyfriend, John B, would be attending the party. Rafe didn't like the idea at all. In fact, the presence of John B and his group of friends, the Pogues, bothered him deeply, but he couldn't do anything about it.

When night came, the Cameron mansion was sparkling clean, illuminated by the warm lights and the vibrant music coming out of the speakers. Guests began to arrive one by one, all dressed impeccably in white. Sarah, wearing a tight white dress like the rest of the guests, was happy to welcome her friends. John B arrived with a big smile, greeting Arabella with an affectionate hug, while his friends stood close by, looking around. Despite their relaxed attitude, it was clear that they knew they weren't entirely welcomed by some of the attendees.

Arabella, in her red dress, walked among the guests, accepting congratulations and smiles.

Rafe, meanwhile, stood across the courtyard, keeping his distance. Though he did his best to maintain a present husbandly facade, Arabella noticed the way his eyes kept wandering in other directions. Right now, though, she wasn’t going to let that get to her. It was her birthday, and she wanted to enjoy it.

As the night progressed, the guests began to dance, and the mood became more relaxed. John B and the Pogues joined the dance floor, dancing carefreely, while Sarah laughed at the scene and pulled Arabella along to join them. For a moment, Arabella let herself go, laughing alongside Sarah as they twirled under the lights.

The night had progressed. The music was still thumping throughout the house, the laughter and the hustle and bustle of the party continued at its pace, but Arabella was already feeling exhausted. Sitting on one side of the patio, with a glass of wine in her hand, she watched as the guests continued to dance and laugh. Everything seemed to happen around her as if she were in a dream, but she couldn’t help but feel out of place. Rafe had disappeared, as usual, and although that bothered her, she felt more irritated by the fake smile he had maintained for hours.

Suddenly, JJ, one of Sarah’s friends, approached with his usual carefree smile. He seemed to have noticed her boredom from across the patio.

“Everything okay, birthday girl?” he asked with a mischievous smile as he sat down next to her.

Arabella raised an eyebrow, surprised by his presence.

“It could be better,” she replied, sketching a small smile. “But thanks for asking.”

“You know, you’re way too serious to be hosting a party,” JJ commented, leaning in a little closer. “What’s wrong? Don’t rich people know how to have fun?”

Arabella laughed softly, a laugh she hadn’t felt all night. There was something about the way JJ carried himself, that relaxed, disinterested attitude, that made her feel more comfortable. He told her a couple of jokes, jokes without much depth but that managed to distract her, making her laugh for real. It was a respite from all the chaos.

What Arabella didn’t notice was that, across the courtyard, Rafe was watching her. Although he had been absent for most of the night, when he returned to the party his eyes immediately fell on his wife, and he didn’t like what he saw at all. Arabella was laughing with JJ, a laugh that she hadn’t directed at him at any point in the night. A feeling of anger began to grow inside her.

Without thinking twice, Rafe strode across the room, jaw clenched and fists clenched. JJ’s eyes widened slightly as she saw him approach, but she didn’t move, maintaining her relaxed posture.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Rafe blurted out, interrupting the conversation with his harsh voice.

Arabella, surprised by the tone, looked at Rafe with wide eyes.

“We’re just talking, Rafe,” JJ said calmly, holding up her hands in a sign of peace. “Relax.”

But that response only fueled Rafe’s fury further. Without another word, he threw a punch that landed squarely on JJ’s jaw, sending him reeling back. Arabella screamed in surprise as she tried to get between them.

“Rafe, stop it!” she yelled, trying to push him back.

JJ’s friends quickly intervened as well, separating the two before things got out of hand. JJ, his face full of rage, shouted something at Rafe, but didn’t get to finish before Sarah dragged him out of the place, along with John B and the others.

The party, which had been in full swing, paused momentarily as the guests watched the scene uncomfortably. Rafe was breathing heavily, his face still full of fury, while Arabella looked at him with a mix of disbelief and anger.

“You’re an idiot,” she whispered to him, her face hardened before turning and heading to her room.

Arabella didn't want to stay there for a second longer. Anger and shame mixed inside her. She didn't want to see anyone, much less Rafe. She headed for the stairs, wanting to get to her room to lock herself in and be alone.

“Arabella!” Rafe shouted from behind, following her with hurried steps.

She didn't answer. She quickly climbed the stairs, ignoring his shouts. The music had started again, and the murmurs of the guests as well, as if the party was trying to continue despite the recent chaos. But Arabella had only one goal: to get away from Rafe.

When she finally reached her room, she closed the door behind her, breathing hard, trying to calm herself. However, a few seconds later, the door slammed open. Rafe burst in furiously, his eyes still burning with anger.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he blurted, slamming the door behind him hard. “You're my wife! What were you doing with him?”

Arabella stared at him in disbelief, the anger that had been building up all night finally bursting forth.

“What was I doing?” she replied, her voice full of sarcasm. “Nothing! I was talking to someone, Rafe. Talking! Because you, my dear husband, have been missing all night, as usual.”

Rafe took a step towards her, his expression hardening.

“It’s none of your business what I do. You’re my wife, and if I don’t want to be around, it’s my damn right.”

Arabella let out a bitter laugh.

“Right?” she repeated. “And what about my rights, Rafe? You disappear every night! You don’t even bother to give me an excuse. The least I can do is have a conversation with someone. Or are you going to forbid me from that too?”

“You’re not going to get anything,” he growled, moving even closer, until he was face to face with her. “I’m your husband, and that should be enough. I don’t need to explain my actions to you.”

Arabella pushed him away, her rage overcoming any fear.

“That’s bullshit, Rafe! You can disappear every night, satisfy your ‘needs,’ but I can’t even laugh with anyone? It’s unfair, and I hate it!”

Arabella tried to pull away, wanting to get out of the room, but before she could reach the door, Rafe grabbed her arm tightly.

“Don’t you dare leave here,” he said, his voice low and menacing.

Arabella tried to pull away, but Rafe’s strength held her in place. Their breaths were rapid, and they were both wrapped in a storm of emotions.

“What are you going to do, Rafe?” she snapped, looking at him defiantly. “Keep treating me like an object?” Like I’m nothing more than a fucking decoration in your life?”

Rafe’s eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and something else, something Arabella couldn’t quite put her finger on until, without warning, he pulled her close and kissed her hard. It was an abrupt kiss, full of tension and fury, almost as if he were trying to silence her. But Arabella, still filled with anger, initially resisted, pushing him away with her hands, though the force of the moment caught up with her. Her tense body finally gave in to the intensity of the kiss as the emotional conflict between them consumed them.

They were both caught in a tangle of conflicting feelings, hatred, attraction, and unspoken desire.

Arabella stood there, standing in the center of the room, her breathing still labored after that kiss that had left her more bewildered than ever. It wasn’t the kiss itself that confused her, but everything behind it: the rage, the desire, and the frustration. Rafe had abruptly pulled away from her, almost as if the physical contact had been more than he could bear, and without saying a single word, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Arabella in an internal storm.

Arabella couldn't take this constant back and forth of emotions anymore. She felt like everything was falling apart around her. Rafe's mix of rejection and desire made her feel small, vulnerable, as if every action of hers could cause a new disaster.

"Not this time," she thought determinedly, feeling the rage begin to boil inside her. She wasn't going to let him humiliate her and leave again, not without facing him once more. So, without thinking too much, she ran out of the room.

She quickly descended the stairs, ignoring the murmurs of the party that continued below, the lights flickering, the music blaring, as she desperately searched for Rafe. She found him in the front yard, just in time to see him climb into his Jeep. Fury mixed with desperation pushed her forward.

“Rafe!” she screamed, her voice sharp, making him stop.

He turned, his hand already on the car door handle, his eyes meeting hers. Arabella walked towards him, taking deep breaths to calm herself, but she couldn’t stop her voice from sounding broken inside.

“Don’t go,” she said, almost pleading. “Not tonight. Stay with me, at least today.”

Rafe watched her silently, his eyes analyzing her as she stood motionless by the car. Arabella had never felt so vulnerable. It was like everything she felt was being laid out before him, and that simple act of asking him to stay made her feel weak, but she couldn’t take it anymore. She didn’t know how to handle all of this, she didn’t know how to handle him.

“I don’t want things to go on like this,” she admitted, almost with a lump in her throat. “I want… I want everything to be easier, Rafe. I’m tired of fighting with you, of feeling like we’re enemies.” Her voice cracked slightly at the end. “I don’t know what else to do.”

Rafe, still silent, clenched his jaw, clearly struggling with his own thoughts. Arabella was watching him, waiting for some sign, anything to indicate that he was willing to do something different as well. After a few seconds of hesitation, however, he looked away, as if he couldn’t bear the pressure of the conversation.

Arabella understood. He was between a rock and a hard place, and he probably wouldn’t know how to deal with her or his own feelings. She let out a tired sigh, slumping her shoulders as if the weight of the entire day had suddenly fallen on her.

“Forget it,” she finally muttered, giving up, feeling completely defeated. “It doesn’t matter. Do what you want.”

She simply turned around, walking back to the house, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. The pain in her chest was unbearable, as if all her effort to make this marriage work was useless. She didn’t want to cry, not tonight. She just wanted to forget everything, sleep, and have the world disappear for a few hours.

Back in her room, she closed the door behind her, letting the silence envelop her. She began to undress slowly, as if each piece of clothing she removed would ease a little of the weight she carried. First her shoes, which she tossed aside carelessly, then the jewelry she was wearing, leaving only her wedding ring on her finger, a cruel irony. Finally, she unbuttoned the sparkly dress she had worn that night, the same dress that had drawn so many glances, but which now seemed like a prison of fabric. She carefully removed it, letting it fall to the floor, leaving her there in her underwear, the cold of the room enveloping her exposed skin.

As she stared into the mirror, seeing her nearly naked reflection and feeling more vulnerable than ever, she heard the door softly open behind her. She turned quickly, surprised to see Rafe standing there, his face impassive but his eyes fixed on her.

Arabella stood stock still, not knowing what to do or say. She had expected him to leave, to leave her alone like he always did. But this time it was different. He closed the door behind him and began to walk slowly towards her, his eyes scanning her body intently, as if he were really seeing her for the first time.

The air grew heavy in the room, and for a moment, Arabella thought about saying something, but her voice caught in her throat. Rafe reached her without a word, standing just inches away. His closeness enveloped her, and before she could process what was happening, he grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her. This time it wasn't like before. Although there was still an undeniable intensity in the contact, it wasn't driven by anger or frustration. There was something else, something she couldn't understand.

Arabella closed her eyes and kissed him back, letting her body respond automatically. She felt a mix of emotions, between pain, desire and emptiness. She didn't know if she hated Rafe or if, at that moment, she desperately needed him.

Rafe's hands ran over her body with a firmness that made her shudder, and when he lifted her into his arms, she couldn't resist. He carried her to the bed, and without saying a single word, he laid her down gently, his lips never leaving her kiss.

That was their first night together, a night filled with mixed feelings. There was no love in their gestures, but no hate either. Just a physical connection that they both needed at that moment. Arabella gave herself to him, but at the same time, deep inside, she felt a deep sadness that she couldn't fully explain. It was as if, even though their bodies were together, their souls were in completely different worlds.

When it was all over, Rafe just stood there beside her, breathing heavily in the darkness. Arabella, on the other hand, turned away, staring at the window, letting the tears she had held back all night finally fall.

[keaganz]

In response to this post, enjoy 689 word salad of how Max could have potentially told Billy about the Demodogs.

Billy clenches and unclenches his fists around the steering wheel of his Camaro. He'd been on edge the last couple of days since his altercation with Harrington on the court, and subsequent stand off in the showers. Neil getting up in his face about the shit bird missing had flayed him wide open and left him open and raw. He really gives five shits about the girl he had a date with.

All of the dating served the sole purpose of reinforcing his womanising reputation that Neil could ride the coattails off, and lord bragging rights to his ‘friends’. All of his dates ended the same, with them riding his face, at the end of the day, eating pussy wasn't any different than eating ass as far as Billy is concerned. Sometimes he would have her choking on his cock or a shy awkward handjob, but he never fucked them.

Hunting down Maxine had him driving all over town, putting on his most charming face as he politely butter upd the parents of his whiny friends. Everything was normal until he drove up to the Wheeler's house. His interaction with Mrs Wheeler left him feeling incredibly grimy and dirty. The predatory look in her eyes set his teeth on edge and made him want to take a long shower in the hopes of washing her look off.

So pulling up the dirt road to the delapited and crumbling Byers house and seeing Harrington's expansive Bimmer in the driveway makes him snap and itching for a fight or good fuck. But seeing as Harrington's straight as a pole that's not on the table. He takes his leather coat off before lighting up a cigarette as the man on the hour walks out the door.

“Am I dreaming, or is that you, Harrington?”

“Yeah, it's me. Don't cream your pants”

Billy slams his car door closed as he takes a drag from his cigarette and look at Harrington putting his hands on his hips, the way his eyes dart back and forth across the driveway is at odds with his calm body language.

“What are you doing here, amigo?”

“I could ask you the same thing ….. amigo”

Billy licks his teeth and pushes away from his car.

“Looking for my stepsister. A little birdie told me she was here”

He blows out smoke through his nose as he bites his cigarette. As he watches Harrington shifting weight before descending the small steps.

“Huh, that's weird. I don't know her”

“Small? Redhead? Bit of a bitch”

Billy chews the end on his cigarette as he closely watches Harrington. His posture is getting more tense and he tries to hide a flinch as they hear a rustling sound from the forest.

“Doesn't ring a bell. Sorry, buddy”

Billy sighs loudly and rolls his shoulders.

“You know, I don't know, this …..”

Billy clicks his tongue.

“This whole situation, Harrington, I don't know. It's giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

As they step closer towards each other, Billy keeps his posture loose and open as he flicks away his cigarette.

“Oh yeah? Why's that?”

They both turn their heads at the sound of the door slamming open, revealing Max. He hears Harrington swearing under his breath.

“Max! What did I tell you? I would handle this! Get back inside now!”

“ NO! He can help us in the tunnels. I've seen him giving as good as he gets.”

“Absolutely not! I already told you we are benched and I'm supposed to keep you safe”

Billy looks between them, with a deep set frown; he doesn't understand what's going on and doesn't like it. He's about to tell them both to shut up when her three friends push themselves past her onto the porch.

“She’s right! We can use him to destroy the hive and pull the Demodogs aways from Ell”

“Yeah Steve, look at him. He's built like a berserker”

Harrington sighs loudly and places his hands on his hips.

“Mike I already told you No! And Dustin I don't know what a berserker is, but this isn't your Dragons game for the hundreds time”