#but back then and currently it has failed to take the steps towards the actual 'second independence' of Argentina (socialism)

[elbiotipo]

Peronism isn't hard to understand when you see it as the Argentine expression of both "social democracy" (the New Deal Democrats in the US, the Social Democrats in European countries) and the anti-imperialist revolutionary movements in the Third World (Nasser in Egypt for example, many of the "Non-Alligned" leaders). I believe this is the best way to approach it from an outsider's prespective.

Yes, it has many unique things, but Argentines tend to exaggerate a bit when they joke it's unique and incomprehensible. The tug of war between right and left factions, a charismatic leadership that took, let's say, "pragmatic" decisions and ideologies, the sell-out during the neoliberal wave in the 90s... when you read about world history, and especially about countries in the Third World, you start to see the parallels.

[violetarks]

bump into things, like someone in love!

anime: jujutsu kaisen

character: gojo satoru

summary: shoko and geto have noticed that gojo has become more... clumsy around one of the underclassman, and take it into their own hands to solve that problem.

warnings: afab! reader, she/her pronouns used, y/n is a bit oblivious lmao

shoko lights her cigarette, eyes on her best friends playing basketball on their break. satoru's glasses lay on her nose, suguru's jacket next to her. suguru was currently up five points, but satoru was slowly closing in. they only had a few more minutes until their break ended and they would have to go to class, and satoru was dead set on winning.

after a successful lay-up, satoru begins to whistle, "ya' losin' it, suguru!"

suguru passes the ball to satoru passed the three-point line, rolling his eyes. "you're just lucky, satoru." he huffs out, smiling.

"good job, satoru!" shoko lazily calls, grinning at his boosted ego.

satoru dribbles the ball a few times, now only three points away. as the two play around, you walk up to shoko on the bench, carrying your weapon's case, greeting your friend, "good morning, shoko. what's up?"

she glances over to you, smile on her face again. "hey, y/n. nothin', just watching them play. you got training soon?"

"yeah, yaga asked see yuu, kento and i on the field. he wants to see how we've been progressing." you say, fixing your collar. you glance towards the boys. "they're pretty good, huh?"

she nods her head, taking the cigarette out of her mouth to blow smoke away from you. she then calls out, leg over her knee, "suguru, satoru! look who's here!"

suguru turns to you briefly, sporting his calming nature and smiling gently. "morning, y/n!" he calls, turning his attention back to satoru, who's turning his head hastily to you.

"hey..." he mumbles, giving suguru the chance to steal the ball and shoot a three, effectively winning the game. satoru glares at his best friend. "hey! cheap shot!"

"pay attention next time, satoru." suguru jokes, catching the ball as the bell rings. he collects himself, walking towards shoko and you. satoru dejectedly follows after, crossed arms.

shoko tosses the boys their things before standing up. you hum out, jutting a thumb to the field as satoru and suguru came closer, "actually, principal yaga asked me to bring you guys. somethin' about an examination?"

"oh right, thanks." suguru says, feeling satoru standing behind him, watching from over his shoulder. he steps to the side, raising a brow. "what are you doing?"

"n—nothin'..." satoru replies, hands in his pockets as he looks away, sunglasses over his eyes. "hey, uh, y/n, how was your break?"

you blink at him, offering your kindest smile that makes his heart pound. "it was good, i spent the whole time dragging kento with yuu and i around for lunch." you say, shrugging your shoulders, "thanks for asking, satoru."

"yeah." he replies, clearing his throat.

shoko amd you begin to walk towards the field, where both nanami and haibara are waiting with their weapons. yaga stood by, talking to them. meanwhile, suguru squints at his best friend.

"what's up with you?" he whispers out, elbowing satoru, "you're acting weird."

"no i'm not." satoru scoffs, rolling his eyes. he tries to look away all nonchalant, but fails.

"is it y/n?" suguru asks, watching how you and shoko talk amongst each other. satoru watches as well. "did you do something to her?"

"you think i did somethin'?" satoru gasps in disbelief. suguru smiles. "why is that your first guess?"

"oi, y/n!" suguru calls, making satoru punch his shoulder harshly. you turn to them. "did satoru do something to upset you?"

satoru wants to destroy suguru after he says that, feeling as if his world is coming crashing down. you raise a brow and shake your head slowly, unsure of why he was asking.

"'course not." you reply, falling into step beside satoru. shoko taps her cigarette as suguru nudges her elbow. "why do you ask?"

"satoru acting strange to you?" he goes on.

"well, he did smash the flower pot yuu gave me when he walked me to my dorm." you explain, "but its fine, i ended up getting a new one."

satoru cringes at the memory of last week, and how you looked upset at the plant you were growing. he hastily bought you more seeds and you accepted them gracefully.

"is that so?" suguru mumbles out quietly, side-eying his best friend. satoru looks at the ground.

it isn't long until you reach your destination and the lesson starts. when it's your turn to go up against nanami, satoru watches you intensely. he watches your every move, and how you maneuver around the field with your weapon. you and nanami are evenly matched at this point, just as you both are with haibara.

"what do you think of the them?" yaga asks his older students.

"they're so cute." shoko chuckles, watching how haibara cheers the both of you on from the sidelines.

"they'll start going on solo missions soon." suguru states, leaning back as he sits down on the step. he glances at satoru. "you're invested."

"yeah? so what?" the white-haired male scoffs, crossing his arms, "i'm just watching."

"watching y/n?" suguru giggles under his breath.

"i am not watching y/n!"

he says that a little too loud. so loud that you instinctively turn to look at them as your name is called, and nanami sees his opening.

the match ends with him getting the slip on you after that.

you sulk back to the seats with your opponent in front of you. satoru blinks and stands up, jogging to meet you halfway.

"y/n! i'm sorry, i didn't mean to, uh, distract you..." he tells you, waving his handswith his apology. you look back at him, pout still on your lips. he falters, dropping his hands. "you... were still great out there."

"ah, thanks, satoru." you sigh, rubbing your shoulder as you sit down beside him with suguru on his other side.

satoru is kicking himself for making you lose your match, but suguru can't help buck snicker at it.

later, class has ended and its time for missions. everyone gathers in one of the classrooms, yaga standing at the front.

"suguru and nanami." he reads out, "you two are heading to a construction site in the south. take these reports and head off as soon as possible."

nanami takes them from the teacher's hands and shows suguru. the older boy reads it, eyes suddenly looking towards his best friend.

"good luck on your mission, satoru!" he chimes, smirking at satoru's red face. his friend flips him off in return.

nanami follows after geto shortly, leaving the room.

yaga clears his throat, "haibara, you'll be visiting the kyoto school to check in with the teachers there. they've requested the help of our school to deal with some missing cursed weapons."

haibara nods his head, fixing his uniform as he stands up.

"take l/n with you." yaga adds on.

you stand up as well, smiling at haibara and reading the report together. satoru blinks, watching as haibara nudges against you to get closer, letting you see the papers easier. he clicks his tongue. 'bad luck...'

"shoko, satoru. you'll be going to visit a high school south of here. suspected of harbouring grade 1 curses and holding some students hostage." yaga explains, but satoru keeps looking at you, "we don't known how many have been injured. make haste."

satoru makes his way to the exit when shoko holds up her hand. "actually, can i go with haibara? utahime and i have some things to discuss." she explains.

yaga, not looking too bothered by the idea, responds, "that's fine by me. haibara and shoko go to kyoto, and l/n and satoru."

shoko sends a sly wink to her friend, making satoru look away with furrowed brows. those two were always scheming! but he couldn't help but feel grateful, now being able to sit beside you on the train.

"after this, do you want to get dinner?" you ask him, looking down at your phone. satoru blinks at you. "it shouldn't take long since you're here, right? so i say we go to that thai place shoko mentioned."

"you wanna go with me?" his voice cracks as he points at himself. he blinks behind his glasses and you chuckle, making his face burn with embarrassment.

"of course with you, satoru. shoko told me that you enjoyed that place, so we might as well go after we're done." you reply, tilting your head, "and you're my favourite senior, after all."

he swears he's unable to focus the rest of the day. he's sloppy when taking down that high-level curse, and you have to snap him out of it a few times by calling his name. hell, you saved him twice when he mindlessly attacking, his mind doing re-runs of you telling him he was your favourite senior.

"satoru!" you shout, deflecting an attack by the curse that was going to hit him, hard. you hold your weapon in one hand, and grasp satoru's uniform front with the other, keeping him from falling off the ledge. you turn your head back to him, breathless. "c'mon, man! focus!"

"ah, i'm... sorry." he says, tracing your features in the sunset, "right! i've got this!"

you pull him up and look over to the scared high school students you saved. they're on the football field, protected by your cursed technique from any fighting outside.

truthfully, you didn't understand why he was off his game today. you've seen him fight before, you've heard all the stories. the almighty gojo satoru. here he was, tripping over his feet.

you decide to talk to him about it after, when the mission is done and you've sent your report back to yaga through a jujutsu worker. at dinner, it's an all you can eat and you snd satoru reserve a booth for yourselves. you sit across from each other (satoru thinks that sitting next to you would cause his heart to burst).

"satoru..." you begin, looking down at your food. he glanced up from his. "do you have a problem with me?"

he stalls, tilting his head. the light above you both illuminates his blush. "no, why do you think that?"

"because suguru is right. you do act differently around me." you explain, "you're always nice to me, satoru. but if you don't like me, you can just say so."

satoru mentally curses at suguru. the guy was putting ideas in your head to get him to confess! how could he play so much with your (non-existent) relationship?

"no! no, i don't have any problem with you." he is quick to react, reaching out to place his hand gently on top of yours, "it's the opposite, y/n... i like you. a lot."

"yeah? that's a relief." you sigh out, smiling at him, "i thought that maybe—"

"y/n, i really like you." he states, gathering all the courage possible to express himself. you stop yourself, staring at him. "i have for a while now... and i promise i'm not making it up, i'm just really bad at saying what i want to say."

"satoru..." you say, feeling his hand shiver on top of yours. you smile, turning your palm and gently holding his hand. "it's okay, i understand. i like you too."

"y—yeah?" he mutters, unable to hide his smile.

"yeah. you're always kind to me. and you've always given me souveniers from your missions out of town." you explain, satoru's heart racing, "i know it's you who leaves them at my dorm."

he hides his face in his other hand, uncontrollable blush on his face. "ah, i knew i should've just told suguru to give 'em to you..." he groans, holding his head in now both of his hands on the table.

you chuckle, standing up and leaning forward, pushing his silky hair back and pressing a warm and gentle kiss to his forehead. he freezes once your pull away, looking back at you from the top of his glasses.

"you're sweet, satoru." you say, leaving to the cashier to pay for the both of you.

satoru leans his chin on his palm, his whole face burning. he'd have to thank his friends, they were helpful even though they were so so annoying.

and when he gets back to school, he does just that. he barges into suguru's room where he and shoko are playing on his gaming console, as its wednesday night and its tradition to go to his room to play a few rounds before they head to sleep.

"you two!" he shouts, pointing accusingly, "you two meddlers! you two... monsters!"

"i take it the date went well." suguru says, pausing the game.

"date! date! it was a date!" satoru claims, falling back onto the bed behind them. the two sit on their own bean bags, turning around to face him. he was blushing like crazy. "i can't believe you two set me up!"

"someone had to." shoko claims, putting out her cigarette, "god knows you weren't gonna do it yourself."

"so how did it go?" suguru asks, wanting to know all the details.

satoru tells them about the mission and the dinner and how the confession went. suguru gets a punch in the shoulder for his intrusion, and shoko gets a glare for mentioning the thai restaurant.

the way he smiles and stares at the ceiling as he speaks makes his friends grin as well. it was high time that he finally got with you.

"and i walked her to her room when we got home and i thanked her for dinner—"

"no way you let her pay when you've got ten thousand businesses—"

"and i kissed her 'goodnight' and she said she wanted to go out again, soon." satoru finishes off, a happy smile on his lips, "she's really amazing..."

"finally! make me your best man." suguru says, turning back to the game with shoko.

satoru chuckles, turning to watch the game they were playing after changing your contact name in his phone.

y/n 💙

so next week? that cat cafe close by?

he smiles.

satoru ♡

sure thing, pretty

nanmi and haibara can hear you squeal in your dorm.

[safination]

The Actual Competitor

|Masterlist| Ao3| Part 1: The Wrong Competitor Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader. Platonic!Rosie & Reader, Platonic! Alastor & Rosie Tags: fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, , Alastor is in hell for a reason, Reader is in hell for a reason, being a simp for your partner, husband! Alastor. demon!Alastor, ,flirting, flowers, feathers

The doors to Rosie’s Emporium open with the sound of a bell. It’s quite empty today. Not many Sinners stalk the halls of her shop. Rosie’s head snaps when she hears the bell, smile widening when she spots you with Alastor. You take a step forward and present the flowers to her with a small bow. “For you, Miss Rosie,” you say. “How I have absolutely missed you!” Rosie snatches you into a hug, pulling you flush against her into the tightest of hugs. There’s a sly smile on Rosie as she turns her eyes towards him, and hugs you tighter. Alastor’s eye twitch “Where has Alastor been keeping you cooped up?” Rosie pats the top of your feathers, stroking them gently. With each pat you snuggle deeper into her hold. “You hear that Alastor? She missed me!” TLDR: Why is Alastor competing with his wife for his best friend’s affection? Actually, why is he competing with his wife. What’s even weirder is that…it seems Alastor will also have to compete with his best friend for his wife’s affection. + a fluffy lazy morning because I say so.

Didn't mean to make a part 2 for The Wrong Competitor, but here it is anyway. Is the reader from PID...AL the same one from here? Answer: Don't think too deep about it.

If you guys want more from this competitor series you can try and suggest some parings cause I’m running out of ideas

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Alastor wakes up to a warm bed instead of a cold one.

Pillows scatter around, currently used next to him or discarded on the floor for space, instead of neatly tucked at the head of the bed. There’s breathy snoring taking up the air instead of the sound of his radio. It’s funny how soft snoring can fill the emptiness inside him more than the booming sound of morning broadcasts.

Actually, it’s the fact that Alastor’s even waking up at all. To wake up means to have been sleeping. He tries to blink awake, eyes heavy and drooping, as he stretches his limbs out. It doesn’t work. It seems that today will be a slow morning.

Days like these are rare.

Sand of time slips between his fingers whenever he’s around you. Everything flows so fast when it’s just you and him. Will time slow once more when it’s eventually time to leave?

Your head pops up from the whirlwind of feathers. A hand reaches out to pat the empty space, and a displeasure hum escapes as you chase the lingers of his warmth. Eventually, your hands end up finding one of his pillows, pulling it closer to your chest. Once more, your head retreats back into your bundle with closed eyes.

Alastor pulls the blanket up your shoulders when your snoring begins to shake the walls.

It’s him who’s in control. It’s Alastor who controls his body and his actions, and it’s not the other way around. Hmmm…maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to lose control for one, especially when you’re still searching the space he no longer occupies. Alastor should fall back into bed, trying but failing to blink away the heavy weight of sleep.

Instead, he runs his hands across the sheets, searching until he reaches your hand. The rings around your fingers clinks when he intertwines his fingers with yours.

You settle back into sleep—feathers on your head, four fingers attached to your hand, and currently holding the heart and hand of one of the most vicious Overlord in this realm.

There’s much to do today, but Alastor will hold your hand like this if it means this moment can last.

Eventually, Alastor releases your hand to go to your side of the bed. He smoothens some of the whirlwind of feathers that currently nest you. A hand snakes under your head as Alastor gently peels the blanket away from your shoulders. The hand supports your head as he sits you and hooks an arm underneath your knees.

You’re blinking awake as he carries you in his arms. Instead of complaining, it seems you’re just determined to sleep. So, your eyes close shut as he settles you in his arms.

It would be funny to drop you right now. Actually, it would be downright hilarious. Dropping you would certainly pull him out of this morning slump. Alastor wants to do it…but you’re settled into his arms…

Instead, he lands you gently on the vanity chair. You’re sitting up, trying to blink awake but still not fully out of the forest.

Groggily, Alastor grabs the brush from the table and runs the bristles between your feathers to preen it. Each pass of the brush serves to bring you deeper into a lull.

Your head nods off, even as Alastor preens your feathers. He has to gently pull on the ends to keep you from fully going back to sleep and falling over. A big and hearty yawn escapes you, and the absolute audacity of you to yawn when you should know that when you yawn, Alastor eventually yawns as well.

Alastor stifles a yawn, eyes half drooping as he brushes your feathers. “Now, now,” he says and despite his very best efforts, Alastor yawns. “What ever shall I do with you in this state?”

Your eyes flutter into a close, and Alastor has to tug you awake as you mumble out a small and sleepy. “Marry me?”

“I already did that.” Alastor’s eyes droop even lower, and he has to shake his head to bring himself out of the lull of the early morning.

A hum escapes you and you settle deeper into the chair. “Do it—yawn—again.”

“I also…,” Alastor begins, trying and failing to stifle another yawn, “…already did that as well.”

There’s a hum once more as you lean into the way Alastor brushes your feathers. Some of them puff up and expand as you sink into them like a comfortable bird. It looks quite soft to be buried underneath all those feathers.

It’s Alastor who is in control, not his body… but Alastor can also do whatever the hell he wants, and what he wants is to go back to sleep. And if he’s going back to sleep, well…he might as well take you back.

The brush gets discarded somewhere irrelevant to his mind, and Alastor carries you and him back on the bed. This time, he actually drops you, snickering as you bounce on the cushions. Apparently, you’re too sleepy and dazed to do anything about it.

Alastor crawls back under the blankets, and has enough sense to land his head on your chest. Every breath you take cranks his head up and down.

Finally, he allows his eyes to droop to a close.

You pat his head, half-heartedly trying to push him away. “…heavy… you’re heavy.”

“…rude…,” he mumbles and as punishment, Alastor presses deeper into you.

Quite the dangerous game he’s playing, indeed. Alastor’s gotten comfortable—too comfortable. As you draw circles on his back, Alastor can already predict how the rest of this morning will go. It was that easy to settle back into a routine with you.

He’ll have to re-brush all the feathers, and pick up the ones that scatters on the floor. After that, you’ll force him to brush his teeth and you’ll grab him by the ears if you have to. Once that certain battle is over, it’ll be time for breakfast. Alastor’s finally gotten you used to eating breakfast once more. So, skipping glossing over that habit won’t do.

Part of him wonders who will make sure you eat proper food once he returns to the hotel. And that thought plunges him into an even more dangerous game.

Because his mind wonders if he should get a car, and drive to the hotel everyday. Alastor can even drive you to work and drive you back. If he lives here, it will be like this every morning and every night and every afternoon and everything in-between.

The bed will hold two instead of one. All pillows will be used and scattered around the bed. The blanket will be spread wide instead of curled around a singular body that’s chasing a warmth that isn’t there.

What a cruel, cruel, dream for his mind to conjure up. Alastor really must be still asleep to be able to entertain such dreams.

You’re swatting his face, pulling him from the deep forest of sleep. “Al, get up,” you mumble, pulling his head closer to your body. The points of his antlers press into you. “We can’t stay here forever.”

Alastor wants to ask why not, instead he curls his hands around your shirt. “…okay…let’s wake up.”

“Come on, get off me.” Your arms lock themselves around his neck, smothering him as you curl closer “Alastor…we have to leave soon.”

The irony doesn’t escape him.

Eventually, the time comes where the day must begin. Sleep loses its hold on your bodies, and the lazy morning just turns into a morning. Despite that, Alastor still carries you to the vanity and brushes your feathers again.

Strands of feathers pass through his fingers. “They’re starting to look quite healthy again.”

“That’s because they’re being regularly preened,” you say, smiling at him from the reflection of the mirror. “It’s hard to reach the back on my own.”

Alastor hums, maybe he really should buy that car. “It’s getting longer.”

“It’s always been this long,” you tell him as feathers flutter when Alastor brushes over a particular sensitive spot. It has you sinking back into the puff. “I just tie them together to keep them from fluttering around everywhere.”

Alastor picks out a feather that sticks out of your scalp and plays with it a little. They tickle. “Does it need to be tied up today?”

There’s a small and shy smile on your face. “I’m not going to work today….So, no.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

There are flowers in your hand.

Alastor watches you tend to them with gentle touches, his hand pressed on the small of your back as you both walk down the street. There’s a small smile on your lips as you observe the flowers, giving it an occasional sniff here and there.

Feathers flutter behind him as he walks with you. Alastor summons a voodoo-doll to trail behind and pick up and discard any feathers that fall off. He knows how cautious you get about the feathers.

You bring the bouquet to his face. “Do you like them?”

“Are they for me to like?” Alastor takes a sniff. These are real flowers with proper stems and petals, and not something easily acquired in Hell.

“Not particularly.”

Alastor presses on the small of your back, bringing you closer to him to avoid the puddle of blood. “They’re lovely—but why do you have flowers?”

“They’re for Miss Rosie!” you say, sighing. “Do you think she’ll like it? I hope she will.”

Alastor tilts his head. Miss? “I’m sure she would love them,” he says, and steps over a piss puddle when you tug on the sleeves of his coat. “How come I never received such gifts from you.”

A flash of a frown. It’s replaced by a proud huff. “I’ll give you flowers when you give flowers.”

“The ones from last week are currently sitting in our vase,” Alastor says, and he can’t help how his ears press flat with annoyance. “They’re quite healthy, if I might add, considering I just watered them this morning.”

You press a quick kiss on his cheek that has his ears straightening. “Well, I haven’t gotten any flowers from you this week.”

“There’s no use trying to win Miss Rosie’s favor when I’m right here, dearest!” Alastor says, rolling his eyes into a squint. “Her and I are the oldest and closest of pals, and it’s only natural that she would favor me more—flowers or no flowers. It’s cute of you to try, though.”

You scowl at him, giving a small huff as you bring the flowers closer. “Do you seriously think that?”

“I cannot wait to see the absolute devastation on your face when your efforts fail in vain.” Alastor boops your nose, and presses a kiss on the edge of your lips. “It’s just the thing to make my day. How absolutely thoughtful of you to do this for me, my love.”

“You’re quite welcome,” you say, snickering as you give him a little showman bow. “Thank you, by the way…for such romantic words. Any wife would definitely swoon when hearing such a thing.”

Alastor laughs and pulls you closer to him.

Piss and blood puddles disappear as you both enter the borders of Cannibal Town. There’s still quite some mess as Sinners chomp down on their friends or family…sometimes both friends and family, actually. Intestines and guts are hurled and shared between the far and wide.

You catch your reflection on a window shop, stopping to fix your appearance. A hand goes through your feathers to smoothen the ones that stick out. It’s vibrant once more, considering someone is there to make sure they’re preened. (Maybe Alastor really should buy that car.)

“How do I look?”

Alastor tucks some feathers behind your ears, and curls them around his finger. Each word he speaks brushes your feathers with his lips. “Absolutely beautiful.”

The doors to Rosie’s Emporium open with the sound of a bell. It’s quite empty today. Not many Sinners stalk the halls of her shop. Rosie’s head snaps when she hears the bell, smile widening when she spots you with Alastor.

You take a step forward and present the flowers to her with a small bow. “For you, Miss Rosie,” you say. “How I have absolutely missed you!”

Rosie snatches you into a hug, pulling you flush against her into the tightest of hugs. There’s a sly smile on Rosie as she turns her eyes towards him, and hugs you tighter.

Alastor’s eye twitch

 “Where has Alastor been keeping you cooped up?” Rosie pats the top of your feathers, stroking them gently. With each pat you snuggle deeper into her hold. “You hear that Alastor? She missed me!”

“Of course I have!” you tell her with a wide smile. “There’s not a single person in this city who can match your class.”

Alastor trails his claws across his microphone. “What do I have, then?”

Rosie still hasn’t pulled away from the hug, and it seems you’re not going to be the one who steps away first. “Are you sure you’re not looking for a wife?” you ask, not bothering to answer Alastor. “Such a woman like you shouldn’t be alone.”

Rosie laughs, finally breaking the hug to pat your shoulders. “Know a gal?”

“I think I might just do,” you say and bark out a laugh.

More laughter erupts and Rosie snakes her arm around yours, pulling you deeper into the emporium. Alastor follows along, feeling like a third-wheel. Three sets of cups and a whole tower of snacks are arranged on the table. Rosie pulls a seat out for you, and you take it with a bright smile.

Hmmm…Alastor’s chair is scooted quite far away from yours.

Rosie pours you some tea, chatting about everything and anything. You listen intently, laughing occasionally at whatever Rosie mentions.

Alastor takes the tong, placing some lemon looking brownie into a plate, and slides them towards you.The yellower the treat, the better.

You flash him a smile when you notice the small plate.

Alastor turns to Rosie with his own sly smile.

As you take a bite of your brownie, your hand wraps itself under the base of his chair. Alastor gives you a questioning look, but you’re staring straight into Rosie’s hollowed eyes with fluttering eyes  “….I told him that there’s no way he can take his brother out through this door.”

Rosie laughs, loud and hearty as she slaps the table. “And let me guess—“

“He jumped through the window!” The both of you exclaim, crying out tears of laughter.

“Now that’s quite the dedication,” you say. The legs of his chair scrap the floor when you pull him closer. Alastor sits up straight, blinking as he’s forced closer by the strength of your pull. “The nurses had to wheel the both of them up, and we gave them a room with no windows this time.”

Still, you’re pulling on his chair. The effort of bringing your chair closer doesn’t hinder your speech or the enjoyment of your tea and brownie.

Rosie grabs a second metallic dispenser and pours what appears to be coffee into a teacup and slides the thing in Alastor’s new spot. “One of my clients got caught with his boyfriend’s sister,” she says, and has to reach further into the table to set the coffee cup in front of him. “He’s totally fine with it, apparently. Just wishes he’d stop smooching his sister.”

“What does the sister think?” You reach for some cold cuts and place it on a plate. That too gets presented to him.

“She didn’t know that him and her brother were a thing,” she says. “And she did quite the number on the boyfriend when she found out he cheated on her brother. She wasn’t too happy about it. Quite the sibling bond.”

Alastor’s smile turns a fraction softer as he enjoys his coffee.

Gossip continues to spread and be passed around. Usually, Alastor will have his own scandalous stories, but his mind plagues him. It forces him to continually re-play the events that transpired a few seconds ago.

Alastor wasn’t going to make a fuss about his chair being too far away, and he was content on drinking tea even if his preferred beverage happens to be coffee.

And…fuck.

Now, his mind drifts back to the car as he takes another sip of coffee. Alastor can pay for the whole thing right away. There would be no need for any down payments or loans, not when he can secure suitcases of cash with a snap of his fingers.

The drive from you to the Hazbin Hotel shouldn’t take too long. Traffic shouldn’t be too bad. And he can make it to you in time for dinner if he breaks each and every speed limit. And there’s also the idea of picking you up from work. And Alastor can always wait in the car if your shifts lasted too long. And mornings would last longer if he drove you to work as well….And…

And…

And Alastor decides that your chair is still too far off.

Tendrils wrap around the legs of your chair, a secure grip around the wood.

“She’s just been writing people up for pettiest reasons,” you say, picking up your plate and teacup. “Just the other day, I heard that Maggie got scolded for having a blue pen in her pocket because we’re only supposed to use black ink. Maggie wasn’t even using the blue pen.”

Alastor used the tendril to pull your chair, stopping when only inches of space separate him from you. The plate and teacup are gently placed down on the table, and it finally makes sense why you picked them up in the first place.

Rosie refills his coffee. “Ayeesh, that would be annoying.”

You reach under the table, searching until Alastor catches your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. The pads of your thumb go up and down the cool metal of his ring.

There’s a smudge of frosting on your lips that you don’t seem to notice.

Despite being closer, Rosie reaches across the table with a dashing smile as she slowly wipes the smudge off your lips.

Two sets of eyes turn to him with smug smiles.

Alastor takes one long sip of his coffee, and squeezes your hand.

You squeeze back, even as you bat your eyelashes at Rosie and thank her.

Alastor has to take another long sip of his coffee. What is he doing? Well, actually, he does know what he’s doing: He’s watching his best friend and his wife turn into putty at the sight of one another, and a low and defeated sigh escapes him.

(Should he just buy the fucking car?)

Alastor isn’t keen on losing. His best friend and his wife seem to enjoy each other’s affection even with him in the room. Now, whose attention should he focus on? Well…it’s obviously going to be his wife’s affection that he shouldn’t lose out on because there’s no way Alastor would lose you, even if that person happens to be one of his dearest friends.

As soon as your plate empties, Alastor snatches it faster than Rosie can. It was a close competition though, her fingers were right above your plate.

Alastor piles on more sugary treats on your plate before passing them back to you.

Rosie settles back into her chair, leaning on her palm. “Enough about other people,” she says. “How are you guys doing?”

Alastor’s smile widens as he puffs his chest. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Well,you know how it is,” you say instead. “Hard—especially being married to this one.”

Rosie gives you a look as the both of you seem to share a knowing glance that Alastor doesn’t understand. “Men.”

“Hard?” Alastor parrots, huffing a little with offense. “Our marriage isn’t hard wo—Excuse me I just need to attend to a little business.”

The table jerks from the way Alastor stood abruptly. Plates and glasses shake, and Rosie clutches the sides to steady the table. Eyes turn towards Alastor, but he’s already strutting out the door…

Except…uh…

Well, Alastor skids to a stop, turns right back to place a kiss on your forehead, and gives Rosie a pat on the shoulder and a smile before finally exiting the room.

You and Rosie bark out loud laughter, clutching your stomachs as you calm down.

Rosie wipes a tear from her hollowed eyes, and re-fills the teacups. “He’s been missing for several years,” she says. “I was beginning to think he bit the dust when news spread that he was back.”

There’s a sad smile on your face. “I understand the feeling,” you say. “But what’s seven years compared to the decades we’ve spent together and the decades we will spend together? That’s what I kept telling myself.”

“You’re happy he’s back?”

Thay sad smile morphs into a shu but definitely a happy one as you bring your fingers together. “It’s just nice to be able to be next to him once more.”

Rosie smiles at you. “Well, you certainly look happy.”

“I am…Oh…Oh!.” You stand up from the table as well, and Rosie has to clutch the sides. “I just…Give me…Um…Excuse me!”

Rosie shakes her head as you bolt out the door, waving you off as she takes another bite of her cupcake.

Two empty chairs, pressed against each other, stand before her. Has she just been abandoned?

Rosie is staring out the window when she spots you and Alastor.

With eager eyes, Rosie watches as the both of you walk up to each other, wide smiles painted on your lips. Laughter bounces around the room when she spots what’s hidden behind your backs. Well, that certainly explains why the both of you rushed out the room.

There are words Alastor says to you as he hides a bouquet of flowers behind his back. The window muffles his words. Alastor brings out the bouquet, presenting it to you with a boyish smile.

Even through the window, Rosie can clearly see your laughter as you bring out your own bouquet of flowers from behind your back. There’s a smile on your face when you present the flowers to Alastor.

Alastor runs a hand through his hair as he laughs.

You’re staring at everything and anything but Alastor with that same shy but happy smile.

Alastor tilts your chin with the tips of his fingers to force you to look at him as you exchange the flowers you bought for each other.

Two pairs of eyes notice Rosie staring out the window and she raises her teacup for a toast. She leans on her palms as she watches you and Alastor walk away, hand in hand with flowers around your arms.

Guess she’s the loser in today’s game.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

So, who is the winner of today’s game? Reader, always. Especially when she’s got two of Hell’s Overlords competing for her affection. Also, a big fan of buying men flowers. They too deserve flowers and gifts and soft soft love. Basically how the scene went: Reader: *pulls Alastor’s chair closer*  Alastor:  *ready to get down on his knees for the light of his life and air of his lungs like the fucking loser he is and ask her to marry him once again* Should I buy a car?

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-one of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

“Sure,” Tim says in a mostly-reasonable imitation of a normal person who is not in a good ten feet over their head, taking the seat Kon left him. Kon flashes him another grin and unzips his jeans. He is still wearing his suit underneath them. It still does not even slightly matter to Tim’s stupid idiot hormones. 

He tries not to stare at Kon stripping off his boots and jeans, but absolutely, undeniably fails. The situation is not improved when Kon turns his back towards him and smirks back over his shoulder at him. 

“Unzip me?” he asks, the bastard. Tim does not in any way believe he needs the help unzipping his suit, but also Tim is a stupid idiot with stupid idiot hormones and he does, in fact, lean forward on the bench and reach up to do so. He pulls Kon’s zipper down his spine and, miraculously, does not spontaneously combust in the process. 

New information: Kon doesn’t wear any kind of underlayer under his suit. At least not over his torso, anyway. Which Tim supposes shouldn’t be a surprise, but certainly is something he’s noticing right now. 

He can’t even decide if he’s hoping for him to be wearing underwear or not. He should be hoping for him to be wearing it, given they’re here to try on clothes and that’s therefore kind of necessary, but . . . 

Kon strips the rest of his suit off. He is, unfortunately, wearing boxer briefs. Very small and very tight boxer briefs, but boxer briefs all the same. Tim tries not to stare at Kon’s ass and then immediately encounters the larger problem of accidentally looking at Kon’s reflection in the changing room mirror, which offers the opportunity to stare at other things that belong to Kon. Like his chest. And his abs. And his Adonis belt and–

Fuck his life, Tim thinks feelingly, barely resisting the urge to cover his eyes before he can embarrass himself. He’s already embarrassing himself; it is way too damn late for anything like that to help. 

“What should I try on first?” Kon asks. Tim, in mute panic, grabs the first thing off the top of the pile and shoves it at him. Kon, unfortunately, accepts it. 

More unfortunately, it turns out to be a very clingy black T-shirt with a very deep V-neck. Kon doesn't have actual cleavage, obviously, but that T-shirt has not gotten the memo. 

And apparently neither have his pecs. 

Fuck, Tim thinks with great feeling, still barely resisting the urge to cover his eyes. Fuuuuuck. 

“Hmmm,” Kon says, tugging at the dip of the V-neck with a finger. “What do you think? My color or naw?” 

Tim is suffering. There is a hell and he is currently in it, right here and now. 

“Black isn’t a particularly daring color choice, most people look good in it,” he says, clearing his throat. “The fit’s nice, though.” 

“Fair enough,” Kon says, plucking at the collar again and then stripping the shirt off. While facing Tim. Directly. So Tim therefore has a front-row seat to his bare abs stretching and flexing and–

Jesus. Just–Jesus. 

“Next?” Kon asks, holding out an expectant hand and smirking at him. 

Bastard. 

Tim, in vengeance, hands over the leather pants. It immediately backfires, because Kon just smirks wider and steps right into them, and in fact the process of watching Kon get into leather pants is . . . well, it's a fucking process, alright. And then Tim is alone in a changing room with a shirtless Kon in very tight leather pants and absolutely no one else around to interrupt. Not a single convenient supervillain attack to be seen. 

Fuck, Tim reflects with great feeling. 

“Guess this still isn’t a very daring color choice, huh?” Kon asks, tugging casually at his own waistband. Tim's teeth would also like to do that, please. Like. He has never done that to anyone's waistband in his life, but he would like to start. Right now, ideally. “Maybe I should've gone for something else.” 

“They look alright,” Tim says, desperately trying not to choke and die. He may or may not have had to put one of the shopping bags in his lap. Kon seems unconcerned and just twists to check out his ass in the mirror. His ass which is in very tight black leather. With belts. And buckles. 

And straps. 

Tim is disproportionately fixated on the straps, maybe. 

“Take a picture, it'll last longer,” Kon tells him with a smug grin. 

“I . . . kinda want to?” Tim admits helplessly, then winces at himself. Oh, that was the literal opposite of smooth. Kon laughs anyway, though.

“Oh do you now,” he purrs teasingly. “Is that why you were so concerned about getting me a phone with a good camera, pretty boy?” 

“. . . technically it only matters if my phone has a good camera in that situation,” Tim points out, and Kon actually pouts at him. It’s clearly a put-on, since he’s still half-smirking, but it’s a pout all the same. 

“Aw, you don't want me to send you any pics, Tim?” he asks. 

Tim might be, like, dead now. That might be a thing. He might just be dead. 

“Uh,” he says, blinking rapidly a few times in a desperate attempt to make his brain do literally anything but go down that particular avenue.

“These are a little tight, though,” Kon muses casually as he looks back down to the pants in the mirror, and then smooths a hand down his thigh because he apparently wants Tim to die. The bright fluorescent lights glint across his earring and make those inhumanly blue eyes even more undeniably inhumanly blue, and also make all his muscle definition all very, very visible. 

Technically, Kon has muscles like these because he's a genetically-enhanced half-alien who's all jacked up on solar power. Tim is perfectly aware of that fact. A normal unenhanced human being built like this would probably need an assist from steroids and a ridiculously-specialized diet and to basically never leave the gym. And also probably they'd be at least a little bit dehydrated, to look this cut. 

Tim can tell himself all that all that he likes, but Kon still looks like the bodybuilder edition of Playgirl right now. 

“Since when do you mind tight?” he asks. 

“I don't,” Kon says, sparing him another smirk. “But if I didn't make sure to keep my TTK on them 24/7, they'd probably rip. Leather's a little less forgiving than spandex, you know?” 

Tim is fairly sure Kon said some words after “rip”, but fuck if he could tell anyone. He couldn't tell anyone with a gun to his head. He couldn't tell Batman. 

Fucking hell. 

“Then I'll buy you another pair,” he says reflexively. Kon laughs, ducking his head. He is still shirtless. Very, very shirtless. 

“Man, I don't care what you think you owe me, you cannot possibly wanna buy me this much stuff,” he says. 

Tim tries to figure out how to say “you're my teammate and ally and you deserve to be somewhere safe and taken care of and have everything you need” without actually saying “you're my teammate and ally and you deserve to be somewhere safe and taken care of and have everything you need”. It's difficult, mostly because the alternate and equally true answer is “I think I'm kind of getting off on this, actually”. Which is actually kind of weird and questionable of him even if Kon is flirting with him and acting kind of–

Yeah, he really needs to stop being weird about this. 

“I have the money,” he says reasonably. “It’s not any harder for me than using your powers is for you. And I like doing it.” 

“You like doing it?” Kon says, tilting his head. Possibly Tim should’ve phrased that differently. Or just not said it at all, more like. 

“Yeah,” he says, then quickly changes the subject in self-defense. “And you did me a favor. I want to pay it back.” 

“There’s ‘paying it back’ and there’s ‘signing a lease’, man,” Kon says, raising an eyebrow at him. “Like, you offered me an apartment.” 

“If you’d let me I’d give you a fully-furnished apartment, bills and expenses, and an allowance,” Tim says wryly, and belatedly realizes that last one maybe sounds a little bit patronizing or weird when Kon–pauses.

“An allowance?” he repeats, just barely frowning. 

“Yes,” Tim says, because fuck it, he’s committed now and trying to backtrack would just make it more awkward. If he acts like that was a normal offer to make, maybe Kon will buy it. It’s not like he doesn’t know his initial socialization and education came from a bunch of weird nerds in a lab. “You know, rent and bills and groceries and a little extra, so you don’t have to call me up every time you want something.” 

“Because I saved your life?” Kon says, fidgeting with the button of his pants for a moment. Tim pretends not to notice. Pretends very hard not to notice. It’s . . . arguably a success. Maybe. 

“Yes,” Tim lies. Kon’s saved his life plenty of times; it’s really not relevant to wanting to see him actually properly taken care of and not just ditched in a lab without any damn windows in it. 

Seriously. Kon is solar-powered and Cadmus is underground. What advantage-taking idiots thought he belonged there? 

“Just that?” Kon asks, biting his lip. Tim . . . pauses. 

That’s a weird question, he thinks. It is, right? 

He’s not sure how to answer it. He lies to Batman, so that’s not a concern, but . . .

But. 

“Not just that,” he says after a moment, and just . . . doesn’t elaborate. Kon reddens a little, and then, weirdly, smiles a little. Tim does his damnedest to deal with the sight of him half-in civilian clothes and looking very, very touchable. Just–very close and touchable. He could just . . . reach right out. And touch him. 

Kon’s just . . . very close right now, is all. Like . . . very, very close. 

Fuck. 

“Hi,” Kon says with a little smile, then steps forward right in-between Tim’s knees still half-dressed in black leather and belts and buckles and straps. Tim almost falls off the bench. 

“Hi?” he tries. He very suddenly feels like he might be cooking in his own skin and maybe needs a couple decades to recover before he actually does die here. Because he definitely feels like he's about to die right now, oh god. Did Ivy pollen the mall? Maybe Ivy pollened the mall. Maybe–

Kon leans down over him and into his personal space, and Tim ends up with his back pressed against the changing room wall. 

Nope, never mind. This is all him. This is exclusively a Tim problem. All Tim all the way. All Tim all the time. 

Fuuuuuck.

“Uh,” he chokes in mortification, feeling his face absolutely burn. Kon braces a hand against the wall and very literally bats his eyes at him, the fucking bastard. He is . . . so attractive. So, so attractive. Like every kind of attractive Tim can currently envision and then some. Why is he so attractive? Why is he this far up in Tim’s space? Why is he–

Oh, fuck, Tim thinks. 

“Oh my god, I in no way meant to make you think this was, like, a condition or–!” he starts to sputter in horror, and Kon cuts him off by putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing him up tighter against the wall with a very, very pleased smirk. 

“Shut up and kiss me, you weird little nerd,” he says, and then leans in close enough to be kissed, his eyes soft and half-lidded and mouth still curved into that same pleased smirk. Tim’s brain shorts out entirely. Tim’s brain effectively electrocutes itself, actually. 

Oh god, he thinks feebly. 

He can’t kiss Kon, obviously. That would be a very stupid thing to actually do. Flirting and joking around is one thing, but actually kissing him . . . 

Kon bites his lip, a little flicker of uncertainty reflecting in his eyes. Tim has been in literal death traps that were less upsetting than that little flicker. 

“Okay,” he manages, useless and breathless, and then–like an idiot–kisses him.

[chvoswxtch]

please don't be mad

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: matt’s run in with his ex has you questioning everything about your relationship, and he’s determined to prove himself to you.

warnings: cursing, lots of angst, fluffy ending, matty being a typical dumbass, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 7.2k

a/n: psa, I am not an elektra anti. I would happily fuck her too. this is once again purely selfish matty content I couldn’t get out of my head. a huge thank you to my darling @yourbucky084 for beta reading, helping edit & providing such helpful feedback.  also a big thank you to @pleasurebuttonwrites for helping me figure out what the fuck is behind matty’s bed for this fic lmao. I appreciate you both so much! as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[part two]

It felt like I had been staring at the wall in the darkness for hours. My body was aching, begging me to move from my current position lying on my side that I had been stubbornly stuck in for the past forty five minutes, but under absolutely no circumstances would I turn over. I would deal with my body’s stiffness tomorrow. I had tried, and failed, several times to get my brain to just shut off. I silently pleaded for the sweet blanket of unconsciousness to wash over me so that I could get a break from all the noise in my head. Tonight was the worst night to be an insomniac.

“Angel?”

I squeezed my eyes shut when I heard his low voice cut through the silence. Asshole. He knew the effect that his voice had on me, especially at that volume. I tried my hardest to get my aggravated breathing under control to a slow, steady pace. My heart was the one that wouldn’t cooperate. It was still thudding angrily against my chest. I heard a deep sigh cut through the darkness and a rustling of sheets behind me.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re not asleep.”

I felt the bed dip beside me as he turned onto his side to face my back. Despite the coldness of the bedroom, I could feel the heat radiating off his body. Normally, we’d be tangled up together. I always slept best with my head on his chest, leg slung lazily over his hips, completely wrapped up in his arms and warmth. But tonight, I wanted to be as far away from him as possible. 

“Honey, please.”

I grit my teeth and flung the covers off my body, shivering slightly as the awaiting cold nipped at my exposed skin and caused goosebumps to appear everywhere. I gripped onto my pillow and ripped it off the bed, hastily rounding the corner towards the refuge of the living room.

“Goodnight, Matthew.”

Before I had a chance to slide the door open, Matt was on his feet and in front of me in a flash. He gently wrapped his arm around my wrist to halt my movements and firmly grabbed onto my hip to hold me in place.

“Y/N…you’re not sleeping on the couch, come on.”

“Fine. You are.”

I shoved the pillow roughly against Matt’s bare chest, grabbing the handle on the door and sliding it back so hard into the track it nearly made the entire apartment shake. Matt winced at the sound, squinting his eyes and turning his head away from the door. Normally I would have felt bad about the noise considering his sensitive hearing, but tonight I didn’t really give a fuck about his comfort. He sighed deeply as he tossed the pillow onto the bed and took a step towards me.

“Sweetheart, I really don’t want to go to bed angry. Please.”

“Well maybe you should’ve thought of that earlier Matthew, before you hooked up with your ex at a fucking party and tried to lie about it.”

“Y/N that’s...that’s not what happened. I told you, we just kissed…and I explained why.”

“Right, and I’m supposed to just take your word for it? After you’ve told me how many lies tonight Matthew?”

“I didn’t-”

“You blew me and Foggy off because you said you had an ‘important meeting’ with your special ‘client’. And then you come through that door, wearing a disheveled tux, with the collar covered in red lipstick I might add, and I find out you actually went to a gala with her.”

“Because she had a lead about information that could help take down the Yakuza!”

I had been seeing violent shades of red ever since Matt walked through the front door. I was pissed when I saw that he was wearing a tux, which was not what he had left Foggy and I’s company in, but the second I spotted the lipstick on his collar, I was fucking livid. Matt must have sensed the shift in my emotions because he immediately pulled off his glasses and raised his hands up slowly in surrender, quickly spitting out an “I can explain”.

My blood only began to boil at the mention of her name. Elektra. Matt had reluctantly, and very briefly, told me about her one night when we had first started dating. The gaps that he left, Foggy unenthusiastically filled in later on. He very clearly had not been a fan of hers, and I grew to understand why.

The more I learned about her, the more my disdain grew for the way she treated Matt. The way she left him..and what she had tried to do to him..what she had tried to make him do before she disappeared. I couldn’t believe he would actually want to be around her again after everything she had put him through. She had almost ruined his life, and after that night, he said he never wanted to speak about her again. I didn’t press it. I didn’t want to upset him, and honestly I didn’t care if I ever heard her name again. All I wanted to do was make up for her faults, and show Matt how much he deserved to be loved. I promised him that I would always accept him for exactly who he was. I never once tried to change him. Not like her.

I was beyond incandescent when her name so easily rolled off his tongue. I had been seething all night since his earlier confession. I was pissed she’d had the audacity to show up after all these years just to torment him all over again. But mainly, I was outraged at Matt for letting her, and for lying to me about it. When he finally came clean about being Daredevil, he swore he would never lie again, no matter what. While anger coursed through my veins, there were hints of hurt and betrayal that made every rush sting even more.

“And that makes it all okay?”

“No, of course it doesn’t. I just..I need you to understand that’s all it was, okay? A mission. That’s it. The last thing I ever wanted was to see her again, but she had something I needed. Something that could help me actually get rid of them, for good this time. I couldn’t pass that up. They’re too dangerous.”

“Then why did you lie about it? If that’s all it was, why couldn’t you tell me the truth? Why couldn’t you tell Foggy the truth?”

Matt averted his head downwards, placing both of his hands on his hips as he stood there silently. His lips parted slightly, taking in a deep breath as if the words he was searching for would be laced within the oxygen hitting his lungs.

“I don’t know. I just..I didn’t want to start a fight. I’m sorry. Please…don’t be mad.”

That rage that had been brewing inside me ever since he walked through that door was suddenly bubbling like molten lava, and I was about to fucking erupt. I grabbed the closest thing on the nightstand and flung it directly at Matt’s head. I knew it wouldn’t actually hit him, not that I really wanted to, but I couldn’t think straight through all my fury. He dodged the vase just in time as the ceramic shattered in cataclysmic pieces against the wall, shock written evidently all over his features by my uncharacteristic outburst.

“Mad? You think I’m mad? I’m fucking furious, Matthew! There aren’t words strong enough for how I feel right now. You lied. Again. And I’m supposed to, what, just be okay with it? Just be okay with the fact that you’re dressing up and running around New York with your ex to lavish galas because it’s for the greater fucking good?”

“Sweetheart, it was just for information, okay? I swear. Look by the time we found the ledger, they already knew we were there. We snuck a floor down and pretended to be a lost drunk couple so that we didn’t get shot. It was strictly a distraction. If they had found us and figured out what we were actually doing, they would’ve killed us.”

“Well if she’s so fucking impressive, why didn’t she go by herself? She didn’t need you there, she wanted you there. And you willingly went. You could have said no.”

Matt ran a hand through his messy brown hair, clearly annoyed that I wasn’t seeing things his way, and rubbed his palm across the stubble on his right cheek. He dropped his hands to place them on his hips once again and shook his head slowly, pointing his chin in my direction.

“You’re right. I should’ve said no. I should’ve let her go alone, and I should’ve told you the truth from the beginning. I just…I really didn’t want to start a fight.”

“I’m done fighting with you, Matthew.”

I felt completely drained, like all the life had been sucked out of me steadily ever since he walked through that door. Our fight earlier was explosive, definitely the worst one we’ve ever had. One of the only ones we’ve ever had. I thought it had depleted all of my energy, but the way he kept trying to justify his actions kept fueling the fire. I was tired of being lied to. I was tired of him disregarding my feelings about this whole situation, and not even trying to understand why I felt the way I did. I was tired of feeling like I had to fight to keep my place in his life. I don’t even remember why I agreed to stay over at his place tonight. I should’ve just gone home.

“Don’t...don’t say that. Please. Your voice makes it sound like you’re giving up.”

“Maybe I am Matthew. This was a mistake. I’m going home.”

“No…no no no. Don’t say things like that, please. Look don’t…don’t go. Please, Y/N. It’s late and you’re upset and I...I don’t want you out walking the streets alone right now-”

“I don’t really care what you want right now.”

Matt quickly snatched my overnight bag out of my hands as soon as I reached for it and tossed it across the room with annoying accuracy. I futilely shoved at his chest when he grabbed onto my arms and pulled me in close, but it was no use. He was a lot stronger than I was, and on top of that I was exhausted. I didn’t have any fight left in me for tonight, and there was no escaping the cage of his embrace.

“Please let go.”

“I can’t. I can’t, sweetheart. I need you, please. Look I fucked up, okay? I know that. I fucked up and I’m so sorry. I know you’re probably sick of hearing me say that, but I am. Just...please don’t leave. I love you, Y/N. Let me..let me make it up to you. Let me show you how much I love you.”

My eyes widened as the words dripping with suggestion left his mouth. I tilted my head back and stared up at him dumbfounded, a humorless laugh leaving my lips as I managed to find a surge of strength to push as hard as I could at Matt’s chest and finally shove him backwards.

“Are you fucking joking? You have some goddamn balls, Matthew Murdock. Are you seriously asking me for sex right now? You think that’s gonna fix this?”

“I’m not asking, I’m offering. I know you need it.”

“You don’t know anything. What the hell makes you think I want anything to do with you right now? Why would I even want to kiss you, knowing all I’m going to be able to taste is her.”

Matthew Murdock was one cocky son of a bitch, and his audacity never ceased to amaze me. He clenched his jaw slightly as spite flowed from my lips, hands balling up into tight fists at his sides as he let out a controlled deep breath. His features morphed into an expression of distress as he took slow calculated steps closer towards me and inhaled, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. His eyes were a shade darker when they opened and his tongue quickly darted out to swipe across his bottom lip as he squared his shoulders. I knew that look, and it caused a shiver to cascade down my spine. 

“Then why don’t you let me have a taste, hm? I don’t want you to taste anything else on my tongue except yourself. I don’t want to taste anything else but you.”

Matt tilted his head to the side slightly, his blank honey eyes fixated right in my direction, trying to sense anything that would give me away. He waited silently to taste the effect of his words in the air as they began to seep from my core, and feel the rise of heat that flushed across my chest and the tops of my cheeks. He waited for the anger to dissipate into desire. Matt Murdock was not a very patient man, but the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was when it came to outsmarting his prey. He set the trap, and waited for me to fall into it. He knew I would. It had been too long, and he knew me too damn well. Matt always knew how to melt the icy barrier I hid beneath, rendering me a needy puddle in his capable hands. The twitch of his jaw and fleeting uptick of his lips let me know he had gotten exactly what he was waiting for.

“I can smell you, sweetheart. Your need...your want. It’s palpable. I can feel it in my own veins. I can practically taste you from here. It’s been what…two weeks? Two weeks since I’ve touched you. I haven’t been paying attention to you like I should have been. I haven’t been very good to you lately. I’ve been neglecting you, and I’m so sorry for that. Please...let me make up for it. Use me.”

Use me.

My mouth suddenly felt dry as it clicked in my brain exactly what he meant. Matt knew what he was doing. I was a sucker for his voice, especially when he used his “devil” voice on me, and he never hesitated to use it to his advantage. He knew it would make me crumble. It always did. He knew exactly how to get what he wanted, how to win. He masked every single one of his sinful words behind that velvet voice, and I loved it. Matt took my silence as an invitation to move even closer, his voice becoming dangerously low as he spoke.

“You don’t have to touch me. You can have my fingers, my mouth, whatever you want. I can feel how frustrated you are. I know how badly you need this. So let me help. Take it all out on me. Use me, sweetheart.”

I felt like I was being pulled in a million different directions in my head. A tiny, logical piece of my brain wanted me to smack him. It was yelling at me to not give in. To instead tell him to fuck off, get my things, and just go. The other part of my brain wanted me to just call it a night. Just let go of all the anger, try to get some sleep, and discuss the future of our relationship in the morning when we were both level headed. But both of those thoughts were completely drowned out by the ache beginning to throb uncomfortably between my thighs.

I was just as sexually frustrated as I was...well...regularly frustrated. I couldn’t remember the last time Matt had kissed me, or touched me, or even told me he loved me. He had been so busy lately, I felt like we only saw each other in passing like forgotten ships in the night. My body yearned for him. He knew it better than anyone, sometimes even better than I did. He always knew what I needed. 

My renegade eyes traveled over Matt’s exposed muscular chest as I got lost in my inner turmoil, paying extra attention to how his sweatpants and briefs hung treacherously low on his hips. I had spent so many moments mapping out every inch of his skin and every visible scar with my fingers and tongue. If I focused really hard, I could feel the tautness of his abs on my fingertips from whenever he got close to releasing in my mouth. I could hear the gravel in his voice as he whispered vivid dirty details of his plans for me into my ear. I could taste the tanginess of my own release on his lips as he kissed me after bringing me to climax with his skilled tongue.

I felt a warm rush of arousal pool between my thighs. The soft groan that exuded from Matt’s lips let me know he had noticed it. He always knew when I was wet for him. I could never hide from him. His tongue swiped along his bottom lip as he stared just above me, his fists tightening at his sides so hard his bruised knuckles were stark white. I know he wanted nothing more than to rush forward and take me, fuck it all out, and beg for forgiveness when he finally sent me over the edge...but he stayed still. Matt had always been the dominant one in our relationship, and I liked it that way. I never knew I could find so much freedom in completely giving myself over to someone. I trusted Matt. I loved when he took control. I craved being submissive to him, so much so that it would have been embarrassing if it weren’t so fucking satisfying. I didn’t know if I had it in me to be the one in control, especially not with the headspace I was in. I was desperately grasping at the frayed edges of my anger, but the way he was staring at me with those ravenous wild eyes had me letting go without a second thought.

“I..I don’t..I’m not sure if I..”

Matt reached out to gently take my hand into his, brushing his thumb over the back of my knuckles and giving it a soft squeeze. Somehow he always understood me, even when I couldn’t get the words out. He just knew. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you. I got you, sweetheart.”

Matt slowly sunk down onto his knees in front of me, head tilted back to keep his gaze up towards my face. I felt my breath hitch in my throat as he hooked his index fingers under the seam of my panties, pulling them down my legs carefully as he brushed his fingers tenderly along the back of my knee and the side of my calf. He turned his head slightly to place a chaste kiss to my inner thigh and I felt him smile against my skin when I let out an involuntary whine. He tapped my ankle lightly to signal for me to step out of my panties, balling them up into his hand and shoving them into the pocket of his sweatpants. 

Matt placed several more scorching kisses up the expanse of my legs and over my thighs as he slowly rose up from his knees, towering over me once he stood to his full height. He gestured his head towards the bed and began to walk backwards.

“Come here.”

I watched him in confusion as he took his place on the bed, glancing down at the spot on the floor in front of me where he had just been.

“What…what um...”

“You’re gonna ride my face.”

I nearly choked on my own spit, my eyes widening in shock as I watched Matt move to lay flat on his back on the mattress. Matt Murdock was no stranger to eating me out. Sometimes I think he enjoyed it almost as much as I did. There were times I had to practically pry him away, nearly in tears from overstimulation because he just kept going and going and going. He’d had his face buried between my thighs countless times, but never like that.

“W-What?”

“You’re gonna sit on my face, you’re gonna ride my tongue until you come, and you’re gonna keep going until you feel satisfied. If you wanna go all fucking night, we will. You don’t stop until you get what you need.”

Even though he was offering to let me take control, there was still a dominant edge to his voice that made my knees weak. Matt reached his hand out for me to take, his eyes blankly moving back and forth as he waited to sense my presence come near. I was frozen with apprehension. I wanted it, God did I want it, but I was nervous. I had seen a picture of Elektra once. We looked nothing alike, figure wise. I had a very curvy figure. I had wider hips and thick thighs, and while I knew Matt was very strong, I also knew I would die of embarrassment if I had to explain how I nearly suffocated my boyfriend from trying to ride his face for the first time.

“Don’t.”

“What?”

I blinked a few times as I stared over at Matt, taking a few cautious steps forward until I stood next to the bed. I reached out slowly to grab onto his hand and swallowed thickly when he tugged me closer, pressing a reassuring kiss to each of my knuckles.

“Don’t think so hard. Just come here and let me make you feel better, please.”

I tried to let go of all my trepidation with a deep exhale, capturing my bottom lip between my teeth as I climbed up onto the bed. I let go of Matt’s hand momentarily to pull my oversized sleep shirt over my head so that it wouldn’t get in the way. I swung my leg over Matt’s waist and straddled his chest. He quickly grabbed onto my hips and pulled me up further with impressive speed, causing me to gasp and brace my hands against the wall.

“Jesus, Matt. Slow down.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I just...fuck...can you get up here? Please, baby?”

I wasn’t used to Matt sounding so needy. That was usually my role. I was always the one begging for him…begging for more. Hearing how desperately he wanted to taste me sent a tidal wave of lust dripping down my thighs, and Matt growled lowly in his throat at that. His fingertips dug roughly into the soft flesh of my thighs and his hips bucked upwards slightly. I stared down at him in awe, feeling an overwhelming sense of pride and confidence from the way he was reacting. 

“Sweetheart...please...I’m begging you. Let me make you come until you can’t walk. Come on angel...be a good girl for me and come ride my face, yeah? Let me show you how much I want you. Only want you.”

Between his strained begging and the way he moved his head to get closer to where I was soaked, I couldn’t take it anymore. My pussy seemed to have a mind of its own because before I could stop myself, I was settling my knees on either side of Matt’s head and bracing my hands onto the wall to steady myself, preparing to lower myself languidly. Matt however had other plans. In an instant, Matt had a bruising iron grip on my thighs and had roughly pulled my soaking cunt down on his face. One of my hands immediately flew down to grip at his hair as I moaned loudly when I felt his tongue slip inside me. Matthew Murdock was extremely talented with his mouth, which made him an exceptional lawyer, but an even more sensational lover. 

His mouth was so warm as he ravaged me, and I felt myself already having a difficult time staying upright. Matt’s large hand came down hard against my ass and I cried out as it surged me forward, the action causing his nose to bump divinely against my clit as his tongue explored my pussy like it was the first time all over again. It took one more slap for me to get the hint and I slowly started to move my hips against his face. The muffled moan of approval that sounded beneath me only spurred me on to roll my hips back and forth delicately like an easy tide. I gripped tightly onto Matt’s hair and tugged hard which caused a groan to reverberate enticingly against my clit. 

I could feel him moving slightly around on the bed behind me and glanced over my shoulder to see him rolling his hips upwards into the air in time with my own pace. I could see the perfect outline of his impressive cock as it strained against the barrier of his sweatpants. There was already a wet patch forming which drove me even more crazy. He was really fucking enjoying this. It never failed to turn me on even further seeing how much Matt got off to getting me off.

My breaths became more jagged and struggled to be released from my chest the closer I got to the edge. I should’ve felt pathetic about being so close to coming undone so quickly, but it had been weeks. I whined loudly as I began to grind my hips down back and forth on his tongue, welcoming the burn of his facial hair rubbing roughly against my inner thighs. I had gotten so used to his touch that I felt like I was completely starving after two weeks without it. I hadn’t even bothered trying to get myself off because I knew it would be no use. I couldn’t come without Matt, not since the first night I let him touch me and make himself at home between my thighs. Nothing compared to him.

“M-Matty...oh god...please...”

Matt clamped both of his large hands down on my thighs to hold me in place, wrapping his plump lips around my swollen clit to suck on it feverishly. I could feel him moaning against my core and it only brought me closer and closer to where I wanted to be. It was so close...so fucking close. My entire body felt tense with anticipation as I waited impatiently to be tossed over the edge into pure ecstasy. It felt like a rubber band within me was being stretched impossibly thin, and I just needed it to fucking snap already. 

“Maaaatty…please please please..”

I don’t even know what I was asking for, but he knew. He always knew. Matt granted me mercy as he quickened the pace of his tongue, flickering over my clit like a flame trying to withstand the wind. He gently bit down on my sensitive nub, causing me to explode with pure bliss. I rocked my hips against his face messily as I kept my tight grip on his hair. A high pitched whine left my lips when I felt a growl rip through his chest as I finally came into his mouth. I glanced down just in time to see his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head from my taste hitting his tongue, a satisfied primal groan resonating against my core. Matt wouldn’t let me budge until he greedily lapped up every drop of nectar my body had to offer. My thighs shook aggressively as I tried to ride out one of the most powerful orgasms I’d ever had. My body felt entirely too heavy, and the only reason I hadn’t collapsed was because Matt was still holding me up. He detached his lips just for a split second, baring his teeth in menacing snarl.

“Go for another one, sweetheart. I told you…we can stay here all fucking night.”

I glanced down to see the lower half of Matt’s face completely coated in my glimmering wetness. His lips were swollen and red, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead, panting as he tried desperately to catch his own breath. His hair was sticking up in odd directions from my hazardous gripping and his eyes were blown open so wide, I could see the devil in them, waiting for me to unlock his chains. I whimpered as I felt his tongue teasing at my folds, trying my hardest to pull away from his eager mouth.

“I..I c-can’t..ah fuck Matty…please…let me down...please...”

Matt grabbed onto my hips and lifted me up gently, helping me onto my back on the spot right beside him. My body was still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure when I felt the warm weight of his body on top of mine. His lips left a burning trail of kisses down the column of my neck, between the valley of my breasts, and along my lower stomach. I whined when I felt his warm breath wavering against my clit.

“Shh...let me take care of you, sweetheart. I’ll do all the work. Just lay back and let me make it better.”

“Matty...please. I just want you, please.”

I hadn’t forgiven him. I was still hurt and angry, and there was so much we needed to talk about. But right now, I just needed him. I needed to feel him. I needed to feel our bodies connected together, like they belonged to one another. I needed him to tell me everything would be okay as he held my hand and made love to me. I needed to know he was still mine. 

I could feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as he hovered over me and I grabbed onto his face to pull him down in a searing kiss. I could feel him sigh in content and relief against my mouth, sliding his hand under my back to pull me up closer so that could press our chests together. I could feel his heartbeat thundering against my own in a perfect symphony. As I pushed at the waistband of his sweatpants, he gently grabbed onto my wrist and broke the kiss to lean his forehead against mine.

“Sweetheart, I told you…you don’t have to touch me.”

“I need to, Matty. I need it, please. I need you.”

Matt stilled at my sobbing plea and brought one of his large hands up to brush the scattered tears away with his thumb, cupping my cheek in his hand as he gazed down at me in pure concern.

“Angel, what’s wrong? Talk to me. Was it too much? Do I need to stop?”

“No...no please don’t. I just...I need you, Matty. I need you here.”

“I am here, sweetheart.”

“I need you to stay here. You can’t...you can’t just ignore me for two weeks and then run off with someone else, Matt. You can’t do that to me...especially not with her. So...if this is it, then I want-”

“Hey, no. This is not it. Don’t talk like that. Listen to me...I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. I’ll never do that again, I swear. You mean everything to me, alright? I’m not going anywhere, sweet girl. I’m right here. And I don’t want you to worry about her. She’s on the first flight out of New York in the morning, okay? She’s not coming back. It’s just you and me, my love. I’m right here. I love you.”

“Then show me.”

I didn’t wait for him as I braced my palms against his broad chest and pushed with all the strength I had left, rising up onto my knees as I pushed him down onto his back. I ignored his faint protests, grabbing at the waistband of his briefs and sweatpants to tug them down in one swift motion as quickly as possible. I pressed my palm hard against his chest to keep him down when he tried to sit up, climbing onto his lap and positioning myself over his impatient cock. The tip was swollen with lust and weeping with need, standing proudly at attention above his stomach, waiting for me. I didn’t take my time to slowly lower myself down like I normally did. No matter how many times Matt had been inside me, ruined me, I always had to adjust to his size. 

We both cried out in unison when I sank down completely, and his hands flew up to seize my hips. Being on top always required the most accommodation, but I loved having him like this. I could feel him everywhere. All I wanted was to be completely filled to the brim and consumed entirely by him. I winced as the sting of my walls being stretched to their limits pierced through my lower half. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. Easy easy…don’t hurt yourself. We can take it slow-fuck!”

I ignored every single one of Matt’s words as I sat up straight and began to swivel my hips in purposeful circles. It burned, God did it burn, but I wanted it. I wanted it all. I didn’t know if I believed Matt’s words. I didn’t know if the love he had for me would ever compare to what he had felt for her, what he might still feel for her. I didn’t know that I believed tonight wasn’t it for us. But all that I wanted was a reminder, that this had been real. That Matt had been real, and he had been mine. I would take the pain willingly if it meant I’d be able to feel him for the next few days. I’d happily be haunted by the ache he left between my thighs to remind myself that this was real.

Every drawn out moan of my name that rang in my ears, every breathless pant, every plea of oh my god and every praise of fuck sweetheart kept me moving even though I felt like my legs were seconds away from giving up. I threw my head back towards the heavens, hoping God would understand my prayers and what I needed through the form of Matt’s name. On my knees above him, I prayed. And I prayed and I prayed and I prayed. 

I didn’t know if the tears falling freely down my cheeks were from being pushed to my limit physically, or mentally, but I cried out when Matt sat up fully to wipe them away from my cheeks, reaching farther inside me than I ever thought possible. I whined when I felt his hand wrap delicately around my throat, his thumb and index finger holding my chin in a firm grasp as he captured my lips. 

“Shh…it’s alright sweetheart. I’m here. I’m right here. Doing so well for me, angel. Always so good to me. Let me take care of you.”

Matt brought my arms up to wrap around his neck, grabbing my hips gently to flip our bodies over and lay me down into the sanctuary of silk covered pillows. He pulled my legs tightly around his waist, locking his own hips in place against mine. One hand came up to intertwine our fingers together, squeezing my hand in reassurance as he placed his other forearm directly beside my head. Pressing our foreheads together, brushing his nose and lips against mine, Matt began to oscillate his hips at a tender speed, allowing me to feel every detailed stroke of him against my tight walls.

“My perfect girl. Can’t you feel how perfect we fit together, Y/N? Can’t you feel how perfect you are for me?”

I couldn’t handle the vulnerability in his featherlight whispers. It tugged so hard on the strings of my heart, I thought they might snap. I tried to whisper his name, respond with something coherent, but all I could manage was a needy whimper. Matt let go of my hand for just a second, slipping his own between our bodies to press down on the bulge in my lower stomach.

“You can feel me here, can’t you sweetheart?”

I grabbed onto the back of his neck urgently, digging my nails into the muscle of his upper back to anchor him in place. I tried to nod, tried to hide my face into the refuge of his neck to escape his inexorable gaze, but he wasn’t having any of that. Matt’s hand was quickly covering my throat again, his hold on my chin a little tighter this time, forcing my eyes to meet his.

“I am not going anywhere. Nothing could ever take me away from you. Not her, not Fisk, no one. Not even God himself could keep me from you.”

His caramel coated eyes were staring so hard down into mine, it knocked the breath out of me. For a second, I felt like Matt could actually see me. His stare only grew in intensity as his thrusts became more precise. 

“Listen to me, sweetheart. You are mine. And I am yours. We belong to no one else, but each other. I’m gonna marry you someday, Y/N. Someday soon. I want nothing more than for you to be my wife, my perfect girl. My angel. There’s no one else I want by my side for the rest of my life. No one else who understands me better than you do. No one else that accepts me like you do. No one else that’s as good to me as you are. I will do whatever it takes to prove that to you. I will put a ring on your finger tomorrow. I will put a baby in you tonight.”

A sharp gasp mixed with a breathless moan echoed from my lips at Matt’s words. I knew Matt wanted to get married someday, and I always hoped it would be to me. We had very briefly had a conversation about kids once. He knew that I wanted them, and said that he did too. Someday. While marriage I knew we could make work, I wasn’t sure about the kids part. I didn’t know if I could handle having a child with him when he still needed the other side of him, and I didn’t know if he would ever know when he wouldn’t need that side of him anymore. It was a tricky conversation I wasn’t ready to try and navigate. I didn’t want to risk losing Matt, and I would never ask him to give up something that was so important to him. But the conviction in his voice, the certainty of his words, made me lightheaded. Matt tilted his head to the side slightly, a sense of recognition softening his gaze as a light smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“That what you want, sweetheart? Hm? That what you need? Taking my last name and growing our baby inside you to remind you every day that I’m yours?”

“Matty…”

“You want all of me, don’t you angel? C’mon, tell me. Tell me you want all of me.”

“I…God, Matty…want all of you, please.”

“I love you, Y/N. You love me, don’t you? C’mon baby, tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Matty. I, oh God, love you so much…”

“Say you’ll marry me. Gonna ask properly, I promise, but I need to hear you say it. Tell me, sweetheart.”

“Yes Matty…yes I’ll marry you.”

I knew Matt was listening intently to my heartbeat with every answer that spilled from me, searching for any falter in rhythm that would tell him I wasn’t telling the truth. That I was just obeying his orders. But I wasn’t lying. I meant every word. I knew that Matt knew that from the mouth splitting grin that took over his entire face.

“That’s my girl. My perfect girl. Now, tell me I can come inside. We can start our family tonight, sweetheart. C’mon, tell me you want it, and you’ll be pregnant before the sun comes up. Let me hear it, angel.”

“Please Matty, please. Please come inside me. I want our family. I want it all. Please Matty, make me yours.”

Matt tightened his grip slightly on my throat, silencing my cries of pleasure with his lips. His pace remained gentle and loving, but his thrusts were powerful and meticulous, relentlessly hitting that spot inside me that had me swimming in constellations that appeared behind my eyelids every single time. It didn’t take much longer for me to plunge from the peak of exhilaration, free falling into uninhibited gratification below that was completely and irrevocably Matt.

I felt tingles sparking throughout my extremities as my body spasmed in rolling blackouts of delectation, causing my walls to clench unforgivably around Matt’s cock. I could feel the rhythm of his hips stuttering into short, staccato bursts as he finally reached his own crescendo. The pure satisfaction entangled in the legato moans of his climax wrapped around me like a warm blanket, lulling me into a state of ease. For the first time all night, joy buzzed in my bloodstream, and I was able to silence the roaring of my insecurity.

Matt was here. Matt loved me. Matt was mine.

I hugged him as close and tightly to my chest as I could, refusing to unlock my legs from around his waist when I felt him start to pull back.

“Don’t, please. Just stay. Just wanna stay like this.”

Matt pressed a soft kiss to my forehead and allowed his lips to linger there for a moment before marking my nose, cheeks, and lips in his adoration. He nuzzled his head into my neck and I felt him inhale my scent deeply before sighing in content.

“Alright, sweetheart. We can stay like this.”

I basked in the comfortable silence for a moment, allowing my brain to process every single one of Matt’s words. I felt a childlike sense of giddiness, like when you were a kid and you knew you were getting the exact gift you wanted for Christmas. You had peeked, and spoiled it for yourself, but still felt unfiltered excitement anyway. The gift itself didn’t matter as much as the feeling of knowing that it was what you wanted and it was yours. 

Matt Murdock was my gift. The one thing I always wanted, the only thing that mattered, that was all mine.

I threaded my fingers lightly through his hair, occasionally massaging at his scalp and smiling at the hums of gratitude that vibrated against my neck. 

“Matty?”

“Hm?”

“You know I’m still on birth control, right?”

“I know, sweetheart. It doesn’t hurt to start practicing though, does it?”

I could feel his smile against my skin. If I closed my eyes, I could see it. I knew exactly which one it was. I couldn’t help but giggle at his response, tightening my arms around his back.

“Well, if that’s the case, then we’ve been practicing for over a year Matty. Sometimes several times a day.”

Matt pulled his head back just enough so that he could face me, bumping his nose against my own as a devilish grin stretched across his soft lips.

“I like to be prepared.”

[biniminisblog]

easy | lee minho oneshot

pairing: lee minho x reader

prompt: “did i do something? why are you suddenly acting so distant?” “just… because.” link to post here

genre: angst, fluff at the end, nonidol!au, kinda grumpy x sunshine, friends to lovers

word count: 1.6k

a/n: …idk what i wrote lmao. this is what happens when im in my missing minho hours. anw as always if you liked it pls reblog, comment, or send an ask and share your thoughts and feedback! also thank you to @dumplingsjinson for the prompt that inspired me to write this!

minho hates you. he hates you for making him fall in love with you. this wasn’t supposed to happen. this was all your fault. yes, your stupid smile and your stupid laugh and the way your eyes twinkle every time you look at him is the reason why he’s currently spiralling from his emotions.

despite his aloof attitude towards you, there was never a day where you failed to annoy him, even in the slightest. before, it was easy to just brush you off every time you try to get his attention. so easy to ignore the members whenever they talk about you. everything was easy back then. why couldn’t you just take the hint?

when you greet him enthusiastically so early in the morning, which he would usually just roll his eyes at, now makes his heart beat faster than it should have. and unlike before, his attention would instantly be diverted to the person who so much as just mentions your name.

he’s actually starting to think he likes spending more time with you, and not just as friends anymore. which is why he stopped hanging out with you. so when you suddenly appear before him outside of his apartment at eight pm on a friday, he knew he was fucked.

“hey…” you greeted him, and minho notices you slightly shiver from the cold. he gently grabs your arm and pulls you inside so you both don’t suffer from the harsh weather. after he closes the door, he turns to see that you were already sitting comfortably on his couch. another reason why he hates you is because of all the fond memories you both shared on that same damn couch. movie nights and cuddling were only some of the things he despised, recalling those memories where his heart fluttered the most.

“so, uhm, it’s been a while huh?” you lightly chuckle, but it was different to the usual joyful tone it had. now it seem more dejected. “you haven't been answering my calls lately, is there something wrong?”

he didn’t know how to answer that because yes something was wrong, but not in the way you think. he just settled with a simple shake of his head and plops down on the couch next to the one you were sitting on. it was hard not to notice the amount of space between the two of you, however the both of you don’t mention it.

“don’t worry about it, i was just busy so i couldn’t answer your calls.” to further prove his claim, he points to the copious amounts of paperwork stacked on top of each other on the coffee table. it was true that he was busy with work, but he always made time for you despite that. though he didn’t know that his feelings for you would be deeper than just a friend he would occasionally be annoyed at.

“minho, i’m not stupid. i know you’re ignoring me.” of course you’d catch on immediately, it was you after all.

“well if you knew that, then why are you here?” minho’s words come out a lot meaner than he expected, and he immediately regrets it once he sees the look of hurt flash in your eyes.

“sorry, it’s just that a lot has been going on lately and i—”

“did I do something? why are you suddenly acting so distant?” you cut him off, feeling frustrated at your friend’s lack of communication. you start to stand up from the couch to get closer to him, but minho was two steps ahead as he gets up first and heads to his kitchen. you follow him there and see that he took out a glass and poured himself some water to drink. you’re not sure why, but you think it’s just to prolong him from answering your question.

“minho please, i miss you! i miss hanging out with my friend, don’t you miss me too?” you plead, and minho’s facade breaks. his eyes soften and he puts the glass down so could walk closer to you. he stops right in front of you and moves his hand to caress your hair. you lean in to his touch, already missing the way his fingers would comb your hair soothingly. minho just smiles at your reaction before pulling away slowly.

“of course i miss you yn,”

“everything was fine so why are you doing this? why are you avoiding me?” yes, everything was fine and easy until you decided to mess with his heart. but you didn’t know that.

“just… because.” you scoff at his explanation, resisting the urge to smack him for not giving you a clear answer.

“because what minho? am i too annoying for you? do i talk too loudly? what is it minho!? i can’t take this any more, i thought we were friends—”

“and that’s exactly why!” you stop, and minho takes this as an opportunity to finally let it out.

“the reason why i stopped hanging out with you is because i don’t want to be friends anymore! don’t you see yn? i like you! hell, i’m in love with you! but i don’t want to be because i know you don't feel the same way. i mean, why would you? all i do is just say mean things to you.” minho breathes out a sigh and watches as you take in all the words he just said. however, he was too scared of your rejection, so he moved past you and headed towards the living room. you were still too stunned to move so you stay rooted in the kitchen.

“please just forget everything i just told you and i promise i won't ignore you anymore.” minho almost raps as he maneuvers his way towards the coffee table and he distracts himself by arranging his paperwork. some part of him wants you to just accept that and go home, but the other, more hopeful side, wishes for you not to forget and return his feelings too.

when you arrive at the living room, you see minho crouched down beside the coffee table. you quickly grab his arm, startling him from the sudden contact. you pull him up and give him time to regain his balance before giving your side.

“what if i don’t wanna forget?” minho only looks confused, so you elaborate further. “what if i don’t wanna forget that you like me? what if i like you too, have you ever considered that?”

you almost laugh at the comedic look on minho’s face as his eyes suddenly widen in shock. you don’t, instead you grab his chin and pull him down towards you. your lips touched and it was still for a moment before he finally kissed you back. only then do you both pull away from lack of oxygen. your arms wrap around his neck to pull him closer and you rest your forehead against each other’s.

“so… does this mean we’re dating now?”

“do friends go around kissing each other like that?” you quirk an eyebrow and minho shakes his head at your sarcasm. it seems like he’s finally rubbing off on you.

“no they don’t.”

“good, ‘cause i don’t want you kissing your friends like that.” you both laugh and minho lifts you off the ground to spin you around, causing you to squeal in surprise.

“for the record, i don’t want you kissing your friends like that either.” after putting you down, minho gives you his signature smirk before kissing you once more and wrapping you up in a hug.

“and to answer your question, i’m in love with you too. so yes, we are dating.” you can’t stop grinning as minho continues to hug you, but he abruptly pulls away, causing you to look at him with confusion written in your features. he suddenly seems anxious, but he collects himself and takes a deep breath before talking.

“i’m just going to have to warn you that i may not be the best boyfriend in the world. i get moody a lot and say a lot of sarcastic things that may come off as rude. there are also times where i—“ he stops rambling after he hears laughter coming from you. he gives you a look that resembles an offended cat and you all but acknowledge it as you wipe away the tear that came out of your eye.

you cradle minho’s face with both of your hands, and he looks at you with such pureness in his big eyes that you can’t help but fall in love with him more.

“minho, i already know that you are all of those things, yet i still stuck around because i love you despite all of that, and i will continue to do so until you run out of snarky things to say,” you tease, and it gets a small smile from him.

“you’re right. if you were tired of me, you would’ve already dropped me while we were still friends.” minho jokes and you hum in response, giving him a peck to his cheek. you intertwine your fingers with his and with your other hand, run your fingers through his hair. “yes now stop worrying about that, you still owe me all the movie nights we missed because you’re an idiot.”

minho only replies with a laugh, silently agreeing that he is indeed an idiot. it surprises him how easily you break him free of his worries. and that despite everything that just happened, you still manage to crack his walls. but he guesses that’s how love works, it makes everything so much easier.

[geminiwritten]

hot dream ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you fall asleep in butcher’s sweater and have a rather steamy dream, not realising that everyone heard you moaning butcher’s name in your sleep

notes: this is so bad, and it makes me so sad because i was so excited to write it, but work has been so blegh that i just feel like i failed??? i don’t know, it’s definitely not my best writing, but it’s something! hope y’all can still enjoy!

warnings: swearing, google-translated french, some very incorrect chemistry, and a tiny bit of smut (i’m working myself up to actually writing it, i promise!)

^ the sweater

word count: 4691

“It’s fucking cold in here,” you say, rubbing your arms as you step into the living room.

Frenchie and Kimiko are curled up under a blanket on the couch, and Butcher is lounging on the single seat sofa with his feet propped on top of the coffee table. You know MM is on his way back from Monique’s house with spare clothes and comforters, but you also know how caught up he can get when he spends time with Janine.

“You do not have a jumper?” Frenchie asks.

You shake your head, “The last sweatshirt I had was burnt to a crisp two weeks ago.”

New York City is quickly falling into winter, the air turning crisp and heavy clouds rolling overhead as news channels warn about impending snow within the week.

Kimiko looks up at you and wriggles her arms out of the blanket to sign an apology, gesturing to the jumper she wears as the only one she has.

Butcher sighs and pushes himself off the sofa, “I’ve got somethin’.”

The tiny butterflies in your stomach flitter to life, bouncing around excitedly at the thought of wearing Butcher’s clothing. You move a hand from your arm to your stomach and curse the stupid giddiness that this man aroused within you. It’s ridiculous, really, and just a stupid crush, but he never fails to elicit some sort of irritating physical reaction within your body every time he speaks.

He disappears into the main bedroom for a moment before remerging with a black garment in hand. “Here,” he says, handing it to you, “don’t get it burnt though, it’s my favourite.”

You give him a cheeky smile, “I make no promises.”

Your fingers brush his as you take the sweater from his hand, and his eyes capture yours in a stare you cannot break. His lip quirks into that gorgeous smirk you’ve come to enjoy so much, sending those stupid butterflies into a frenzy before he turns back toward the sofa.

You release a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding and with numb fingers, find the bottom of the sweatshirt before pulling it over your head. His scent hits you like a truck, rushing through your nose and burning all the way to your lungs. Your chest squeezes around your erratic heart, your ribs aching as they struggle to contain the throbbing muscle. It feels like you’ve been punched in the sternum, and your limbs feel like jelly wrapped in the soft material saturated by his scent.

You know this sweater almost too well, having admired him in it countless times. It’s a little too big on you, but on him, it’s perfect. The thick material hugs his shoulders and fits his torso in the most delicious way. It’s ridiculous that he can make something as plain as this sweater look downright sinful.

“Better?” Butcher asks, his eyes sparkling with a mischief that makes you wonder what he knows.

You nod, “Much.”

Kimiko shuffles over on the couch so that you can squeeze between her and the arm, the side closest to Butcher. You try to focus on the lame action film playing on the television, but the smell of the jumper clouds your mind, and you can feel Butcher’s gaze wandering over to you every few seconds. You want to say something, but every string of words that come to mind are laced with innuendo and teasing, and although you’re very fond of flirting with this man, you’re not sure you can handle it in your current state.

The sun is well below the horizon by the time MM arrives back, his arms full of blankets and second-hand clothing. Kimiko takes two jumpers and a blanket before seeing herself off to bed, and MM does the same shortly after. Frenchie throws another blanket over himself and invites you to share his warmth while Butcher remains on the single sofa with nothing but his trench coat. After almost three movies, your eyelids begin to droop, and you let your head fall onto Frenchie’s shoulder as sleep slowly consumes you.

You startle awake, your mind swirling with images of Butcher. You can still see him hovering over you, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, and his wicked grin as he settles between your thighs. Heat pulses between your legs at the fading memory, and your skin feels like it’s on fire, phantom touches lingering in the shape of Butcher’s hands on your hips, your breasts, your throat.

You have to blink a few times before the living room comes into focus, bright light flooding the space through the drawn curtains as dust mites float through the air. The blankets covering you suddenly feel like they weigh a tonne, and you have to throw them off your sweaty body before you pass out.

“Good morning, mon petit rayon de soleil,” Frenchie greets you, sitting in the sofa where you last consciously saw Butcher.

“Hey,” you mumble as you sit up.

His grin is wide and cheeky, “Did you have a good sleep?”

“It was okay,” you reply, rubbing your neck, “as good as it gets on this old couch.”

“I did not have the heart to wake you,” he says, “you looked so peaceful and were… humming so contently.”

You frown sceptically, “Okay…”

MM is in the kitchen, standing at the stove with a goofy smile as he watches the eggs in the pan cook.

“What time is it?”

“Almost ten,” Frenchie responds.

“What?” you demand, “You let me sleep for that long? Don’t we have things to do today?”

MM chuckles, “We didn’t want to wake you, as Frenchie said, you were so content.”

Spikes of panic begin prickling your skin and your eyes dart from Frenchie to MM, searching their impish faces for any sign of what could be making them so smug.

“Where’s Butcher?”

“Monsieur Charcutier had to excuse himself,” Frenchie says, “but he is awake.”

MM serves the eggs onto two plates and carries them over to the table where Kimiko is sat. She grins at him before digging in to her breakfast, and your own stomach begins to rumble.

“I suppose I will get my own,” Frenchie sighs, pushing himself off the sofa and walking toward the kitchen.

“I’ll have some too,” you call after him, “thanks, Frenchie.”

He smirks at you with the carton of eggs in hand, “Anything for you, mon amour. How do you like your eggs?”

“Hard boiled,” MM replies before you can, snickering as he takes a bite of toast.

Frenchie giggles too, and he quickly turns toward the stove to avoid your dubious stare.

“What the fuck are you two on this morning?”

They don’t respond as their laughter continues to bubble. Frenchie waves a hand dismissively, still refusing to look at you, before placing a pot and a pan on top of the stove.

“I prefer fried,” you mutter, still frowning.

He nods and moves the pot back into the cupboard just as the doors to the main bedroom creak open. Butcher steps out in faded jeans and yet another hideous Hawaiian shirt with only three of the lower buttons fastened. His hair is a complete mess and his cheeks flushed red; he looks as if he’d just sprinted several blocks.

“You’re awake,” he states.

You nod, “So are you.”

He chuckles, “Been awake for a couple’a hours, love.”

MM is struggling with his breakfast, his laughter refusing to subside though he does his best to quell it, his whole face turning red. Frenchie has turned his back to you completely now, but you can still see his shoulders shaking as he giggles into his hand.

“Did I miss something?” you ask Butcher as he falls into the single sofa.

His smirk just as devilish as Frenchie’s, “Nothin’ at all, in fact, I think it’s me who missed somethin’.”

“Okay,” you sigh, “you’re all being weird, and I’m incredibly sweaty, so I’m going to shower.”

“Breakfast will be ready for you when you return, mon amour,” Frenchie says, “take your time cleaning your- uh, humidité.”

Butcher chuckles as another wave of mirth hits MM, and he begins to choke on his mouthful of food. You roll your eyes before turning on your heel and stomping toward the bathroom, leaving them to their stupidity.

The cold air nips at your bare skin as you strip in the bathroom, carefully laying Butcher’s sweater on the vanity before stepping under the warm shower spray. You take your time washing your hair and scrubbing your body, hazy flashes of hot touches and wet kisses invading your mind as you close your eyes and let the water soak your skin. By the time you shut the shower off, you’re thoroughly clean and a little dizzy with desire. You dry off before wrapping the towel around your body and gathering your clothes to dash across the hall toward your bedroom.

You can’t help glancing in the direction of the living room when you step out, your eyes locking with Butcher’s dark gaze for the split second it takes you to reach your room. Your pulse is thrumming at a ridiculous pace as you unwrap the towel and turn toward your dresser. You slip on a fresh pair of panties and jeans, and turn to the sweater you’d tossed on your bed. Your stomach grumbles impatiently while you procrastinate, and you curse quietly to yourself before slipping the sweater over your head without anything underneath.

The living room wreaks of burnt toast when you remerge from your bedroom, and Frenchie is swearing at the toaster in such fast French, you can’t possibly try to understand it.

“Did you ruin my breakfast?” you ask, walking past Butcher and leaning your hip on the kitchen bench.

“I did not ruin anything,” Frenchie says with a frown, “this good for nothing piece of shit machine did.”

You can feel a pair of eyes burning into the back of your head and you know it’s Butcher, but you refuse to turn around, instead joining Frenchie in the kitchen to take over the toaster. After a few minutes of patience, the toast pops perfectly grilled and you place two pieces on each of your plates before Frenchie tops it with eggs.

“So,” MM says when you and Frenchie join him at the table, “what’s today’s plan?”

“We need to go back to the old safe house,” Frenchie replies.

“The basement,” you note between bites of toast.

He nods, “We need to gather anything we left behind that might be useful. I am running out of materials and I know we left a stash of ammunition there.”

“Who’s to say it isn’t already gone?” MM queries.

Frenchie shrugs, “We do not know, but it is worth a try.”

You want to point out that it isn’t really necessary for all of you to go, but you know that will only end in an argument, so you focus on finishing your breakfast. Once you’re all done, MM collects the empty plates and begins washing up while the rest of you go to gather your things.

You pack a small crossbody bag with your phone and keys before tucking a sheathed dagger into the back of your jeans, just in case. When you step back into the living room, Frenchie and MM are waiting by the door, whispering and giggling about something until they see you approach. You want to demand they let you in on whatever stupid joke you’d missed out on this morning, but Butcher’s heavy footsteps capture your attention before you can speak.

“Righ’ then, lads,” he says, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat, “let’s get on with it.”

Your gaze lingers on his lips as he speaks before trailing down his neck and bare chest, finding a mere two more buttons fastened than before. Heat rises to your cheeks, creeping all the way up to the tips of your ears as your mouth begins to water and another blurry image of Butcher fills your mind. You see him on his knees before you, looking up with hungry eyes and parted lips, murmuring something filthy that doesn’t quite reach your ears.

You gasp, blinking rapidly to return to reality and finding three curious faces staring back at you.

“Are you okay?” Frenchie asks.

You nod, “I’m good, let’s go.”

You step between him and MM and walk out the door first, turning down the hall without bothering to wait. They’re giggling again by the time they catch up to you in the lobby, and even Butcher is wearing an amused smirk. He winks as he walks past you, pulling his car keys from his pocket before holding the front door open for the rest of you. Unlike every other time you’ve all been walking toward the car, no one calls shot gun. Frenchie simply opens the back door for Kimiko to slide in before he does, and MM follows without a single complaint.

You look at Butcher, “What the fuck?”

He shrugs, but his smirk is still saturated with amusement and the glint in his eyes tells you that this has something to do with whatever they were all being so smug about.

“You’re all pissing me off today,” you sigh, before walking around the car to the passenger’s side.

You’re not upset about getting the front seat, nor are you annoyed that you get to sit beside Butcher and practically drool over him while he has to pay attention to the road. You are, however, beginning to panic about what it is that they’re not telling you.

The drive isn’t long, and you spend most of it watching Butcher’s hands on the wheel, fantasising about how they would feel caressing every inch of your skin. It almost feels like a memory as you picture his fingers digging into your hips or wrapped gently around your throat, and you can feel your body growing hot within the thick material of his sweater. You practically fall out of the car when it finally stops, gasping for cool air and willing your mind to focus on the task at hand.

Frenchie leads the way down a narrow alley and pushes open the familiar metal door before the rest of you follow him into the dark, damp corridor of what used to be your hide out. You all stay silent for a few minutes, creeping around and checking for any unusual activity or signs that the place might be bugged or trapped. It’s definitely been ransacked, but there are thin films of dust blanketing almost every surface which indicates that whoever was looking in here had given up a long time ago.

“Okay,” Frenchie speaks up once deciding that you’re safe, “let’s see what we’ve got left.”

You split up and wander around the huge, open basement. There are two curtain dividers sectioning the space into what you used as ‘bedrooms’, and a single chipped, wooden door leading to the tiny bathroom at the very back. MM goes in there first, rummaging around for half a minute before declaring it empty.

“Is there anything in particular that we’re looking for?” you ask, turning to Frenchie, “Because there’s a lot of crap in here, and as much as I’d love for you all to rummage through my old underwear drawer, maybe we should-”

Before you can finish your sentence, Frenchie and Butcher take off, abandoning the shelves they were searching and knocking one of the curtain dividers over as they scramble toward the old dresser you used to use.

“Hey!” you shout, your eyes growing wide as you hurry after them.

They’re giggling like maniacs as they wrench the drawers open one by one, tossing out the few items of clothing that still remained in there before realising that there was, in fact, no underwear left behind.

“I was joking,” you say, “fucking pervs.”

Frenchie chuckles, “Can you blame us, mon amour?”

“Yes!”

MM is snickering in the small kitchenette as he picks through the lower cupboards one by one. As much as you want to enjoy the rare light-heartedness within the group right now, you can’t stop wondering why the hell they were all in such a giddy mood. Are they all high?

“Alrigh’ you lot,” Butcher says, running a hand through his dishevelled hair as his laughter subsides, “stop messin’ about, we’ve got a job to do.”

You roll your eyes and trudge toward where MM is, starting on the top cupboards of the small kitchen while they begin opening old crates and suitcases. Frenchie starts a pile by the stairs, stacking up anything he finds that might be useful or too valuable to abandon. There isn’t much, but there are still a couple of cases of ammunition and packets of powders that you know are combustible in some way.

“Wait!” Frenchie shouts suddenly, crouching beside an electrical socket. “Be careful. Somebody has shorted the wiring, intentionally or not, I do not know, but do not touch the outlets or anything still plugged in.”

You slowly retract your hand from beside the rusty old microwave. “What will happen?”

“You will probably be electrocuted.”

“Good to know,” Butcher sighs.

You all return to your ransacking with cautious hands and watchful eyes, skirting around anything electrical or made of metal. When you approach the refrigerator, you can hear a soft, crackling hum, and MM looks at you with wide eyes. It was never a reliable machine, but now it is most definitely a death trap.

You continue your search through the cupboards, knocking half-full packets of rice and flour off the shelves as you stretch up onto your toes to see inside. This job is probably better suited to someone with more of a height advantage, but you’ve always been stubborn, so you don’t bother asking for help.

The cupboard above the sink, adjacent to the stove – you always thought it was stupid to put the sink right beside the stove – reveals a cluster of cleaning products. You reach as far as you can, straining your arms to reach the bottles on the top shelf and groaning at the tension in your body.

Behind you, MM mimics the noise, only louder, “Ungh.”

You hear Frenchie snicker, “No, no, it was more like, mmmh.”

Your fingertips scrape the bottle closest to the front of the cupboard and you huff in frustration.

“Nngh,” MM groans again.

“Ahhh,” Frenchie moans loudly, before dissolving into another fit of giggles.

Determined to ignore them, you try to stretch up even further. Your back aches but your fingers find the bottle once again, scratching at it in an attempt to get it to move.

MM sighs seductively, “Ohh, yeah.”

“Mmm, Butcher,” Frenchie gasps.

Your stomach drops and you lose your balance, stumbling as you whirl around to face them. “What the fuck?”

Frenchie giggles as he meets your stare, “Oops.”

The bottle from the top shelf of the cupboard falls forward and knocks your shoulder, popping the cap off. The liquid inside spills all over your chest just as realisation hits you.

“That’s what all this has been about?!” you exclaim, “you heard me having a fucking sex dream and instead of waking me up, you listened?”

MM can’t stop laughing, with one hand holding his stomach while the other supports his body against the old dining room table. You’ve never seen this man so flustered, and if you weren’t so embarrassed, you might have enjoyed seeing him so overwhelmed with laughter.

Frenchie, however, has gone completely pale, stepping forward with a petrified expression. “Y/N, listen-”

“No,” you snap, “I won’t listen! You are such a-”

“Y/N!” he shouts, “do not move.”

The room falls silent and panic ripples through your body.

“Please, mon amour, stay still,” he pleads as he hurries toward you.

He steps carefully around the puddles on the floor before reaching down to pick up the now empty bottle. He studies the label for less than a second before looking back at you with panicked eyes.

“You need to take off your jumper, now.”

You frown, “What? Why?”

“This is isopropyl alcohol,” he says, “it is highly flammable. If anything in this place so much as sparks, it will catch fire and if the vapours ignite, this whole building could explode.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, looking down at the soaked front of Butcher’s sweater.

Frenchie turns to MM, “Get something, get a bag, and get ready to go.”

You remain still as your pulse quickens, “Frenchie.”

“Butcher,” he says, “you and Kimiko start taking things up the stairs, do not come over here.”

Butcher frowns, “Like hell I’m leavin’ her.”

“Frenchie,” you repeat.

“I will get her out, okay? Just take what we’ve got and let’s get out.”

“I don’t give a fuck about this crap,” Butcher argues, “I care about her, and I’m not leavin’ ‘til I know she’s safe.”

“Frenchie!” you exclaim, “I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

The room falls quiet once again, and you can feel blood rushing to your cheeks as each of them turn to you with curious eyes.

“Nothin’?” Butcher asks, fighting the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Nothing,” you reply.

Despite the situation, Frenchie is the first to snicker.

“Come ‘ere,” Butcher says, “slowly.”

You step carefully out of the kitchen, avoiding every surface as your boots squelch against the wet floor. Once you’re in front of him, he shrugs off his coat and gestures for you to remove the sweater. Your heart pounds as you turn your back to him, and he holds his jacket up to shield you, though not quite high enough to block his own view. You hold your breath and pull the sweater up, squeezing your eyes shut as it slips over your head. You can feel his breath on your back as soon as it’s bare, and a whole different kind of heat rushes through you.

He drops his coat around your shoulders and you quickly hug it against your chest. His scent envelops you, even more so than it had with the sweater, and your nerves begin to ease almost immediately.

“Give it to me,” Frenchie says, holding a plastic bag open toward you.

You drop the sweater in and he ties it off.

“Let’s go.”

MM, Kimiko, and Butcher grab what they can before you all ascend the stairs. You hurry through the corridor and out into the alley, not stopping until you’re all safe inside the car.

“Did you get any on your pants, mon amour?” Frenchie asks.

You push the bottom of Butcher’s jacket off your legs to inspect. “Only a little.”

“It will not damage the clothing, but we should wash everything right away.”

You nod before glancing toward Butcher. His face is a mixture of concern and mischief, his eyes struggling to watch the road instead of you, sitting beside him and wrapped in his favourite coat.

“Should we tell someone about that situation back there?” MM pipes up.

“I will call somebody to clean it up,” Frenchie replies.

It isn’t long before you’re all quietly climbing out of the car and carrying your finds up to the apartment. Everyone kicks their shoes off at the door, per Frenchie’s instructions, and begins sorting through the bags and boxes of old materials and equipment.

Frenchie turns to you, “Give me your jeans.”

“Right now?”

He nods and you sigh, deciding not to argue. You turn away from them and open the coat, quickly unbuttoning your jeans and slipping them off before wrapping yourself back up. When you turn back around, he’s adorning that same silly grin that he’d been wearing all morning.

“Is this how it started in your dream?”

You roll your eyes and shove your jeans into his outstretched hand. “Just because you kind of saved my life, doesn’t mean I’m not still annoyed at you.”

He giggles as he takes your clothes and walks down the hall to the laundry.

“In his defence,” Butcher smirks, “I told ‘em not to wake you.”

“You what?”

He steps toward you and shrugs, “I liked hearin’ those pretty little noises you were makin’.”

The butterflies in your stomach burst to life and your pulse begins to race.

He leans forward as he whispers, “Liked it a little too much.”

You suddenly remember what Frenchie had said this morning when you asked where Butcher was: ‘Monsieur Charcutier had to excuse himself’.

“Now,” Butcher clears his throat, “you gon’a give me my coat back before you spill somethin’ else on it?”

You raise your brows, “You want it back right now? Right here?”

He glances over his shoulder toward MM and Kimiko before turning back to you, “Maybe not righ’ here.”

You step around him and walk through the kitchen toward the main bedroom, avoiding MM’s eyes as you pass the dining room table. You don’t bother closing the doors behind you, because sure enough, a pair of heavy footsteps follow closely behind. The door clicks shut and you turn around to look at Butcher. You let your eyes wander over his body, your mouth watering as you follow the collar of his shirt down his bare chest where the top buttons lay open.

“I’m not gon’a lie,” he says, his hungry gaze pinning you to the floor, “as much as I fuckin’ loved hearin’ you whisper my name… I can’t wait to make you scream it.”

His words punch you in the chest, knocking all the air from your legs as heat pools between your legs.

“Now, love,” he steps forward, “can I ‘ave my coat back?”

Your fingers tremble as you grip the lapels of the jacket, moving your shoulders so the material falls off before you open it up and let it drop to the floor. He draws one sharp breath, his eyes growing wide as they move up and down your body, devouring every inch of it as if he’s never seen anything so perfect.

He closes the distance between you and wraps his hands around your waist, fingertips digging into the flesh of your back with bruising pressure.

“D’you know how hard I came to the thought of you this morning?” he murmurs.

You can’t do anything but stare back at him, your lips aching to taste him, all of him.

“So fuckin’ hard,” he whispers before capturing your mouth with his.

You moan as you melt against him, your arms wrapping around his neck and your fingers tangling through his hair as he claims your mouth. His hands squeeze your waist and pull you closer, pressing your naked body against him. The friction of his shirt against your nipples makes you gasp, and he takes advantage of your open mouth, sliding his tongue past your lips.

“Can’t fuckin’ imagine,” he mumbles against your mouth, “how hard I’m gon’a come with you on my cock.”

The ball of tension throbbing below your stomach explodes, and you use all of your strength to push him back toward the bed. He chuckles as he falls back, his hand catching your wrist to pull you down on top of him.

“Tell me ‘bout your dream, love,” he says as you hover over him, “where was I?”

You plant an open-mouthed kiss on his collarbone before biting down and making him groan.

“You were everywhere,” you whisper against his skin, “marking me, claiming me.”

He moans again as you grind your hips down, the friction of his jeans sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

“I don’t fuckin’ need to claim you,” he growls, his hands holding your hips as he thrusts up, “you’re already mine.”

He lifts you up enough to flip you onto your back, his body moving with yours and settling between your legs as he hovers over you. He dips down, his lips finding your neck and sucking on the sensitive skin before biting down hard. You moan loudly, and quickly smack a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise.

“I don’t think so, love,” he murmurs, taking your hand and pinning it to the bed, “I said, I wan’a hear you fuckin’ scream.”

END.

[eelnoise]

seraphim

roronoa zoro x afab!reader c/w: bloodlust, consensual bloodplay, zoro bites, you scratch, religious themes, body worship, slight breeding kink, piv sex, creampie, manhandling, praise, post-murder sex (reader and zoro just killed a bunch of marines), public sex a/n: ? idk what even to say. i like my men bloody and i like when they bloody me. this is a rewrite of a previous fic which you can find here so if ur like "ive read this b4..." its because you kinda have banner by the lovely @buggyandthebartoclub!

Zoro isn’t a religious man.

No, he finds the very notion of reverence visceral.

Though as he turns back toward you, he’s dumbstruck. You face away from him, pulling the blade of your sword deep from the torso of a fallen naval officer and watching as the light fades from his eyes. Both of you had emerged victorious after a merciless and surprise assault from a group of marines in the middle of an open town square on some island that neither of you can remember the name of, where a large statue stands tall in honor of some long-forgotten hero at its center.

The scene is heavenly, you there - surrounded by the wages of spilled blood that pools beneath your feet, the remnants of singing steel permeating the now hallowed ground upon which you stand. There’s a certain beauty in chaos, and never has Zoro felt it quite as clearly as when he watches you tear into your foes with reckless abandon. The image makes him shiver - not in fear or revulsion, but something far more primal, deep within his gut.

He’s speechless as he observes you wiping the excess carnage from your blade, a sensation akin to delight igniting in his veins and fixated on you like a hawk. It’s beautiful, truly, a stunning vision that he couldn’t even dream up. 

“Well, we took care of that little rat problem, hm?” Your words are heavy with pride and exertion, but the sound of your voice only spurs him from a daze that he didn’t even realize he was in.

Then you turn to him, visage tattered and torn and stained with crimson. Zoro’s mouth goes dry, and words fail him, tongue tied tightly in a knot that he can’t seem to unravel. You’re immaculate, and for the first time in his life he’s fighting the urge to exalt, to sing your praise, to deify you.

He mutters something that’s beyond your field of hearing as he continues to stare at you like a starved man would a feast. Zoro’s seen you wield that blade countless times, watched on as you cut down enemy by enemy without effort or ailment, but never have you looked as angelic as you do now. Standing amid a symphony of battle and gore, covered from head to toe in splattered blood that’s both yours and that of the deceased around you, the look of delight and self-satisfaction twinkling in your eyes as you grin at him from across the square, fuck, it’s all too much. 

You’re right, of course, the two of you can and did handle these sin and sinew wrapped rats with ease, but the more pressing matter is the effect that you’re currently having on his heart. Zoro takes a step forward, taking in the beauty of your face, bloodied and bruised but not conquered.

Curiously, you leer at him, head tilted in question as you sheath your sword along your back, taking note of the lack of the usual snarky remark from the swordsman. “Zoro?”

His eye flickers to yours, lips parted in what could only be described as awe. He looks at you as if you’re a muse, descended from on high to grace him with your presence, one that’s stunned him into near silence. “Yeah?” Zoro manages to reply quietly, tone raspy and voice a barely audible whisper against the breeze - a timbre you only hear from him when he’s injured or exhausted, a weak and feeble inflection that almost has you questioning if the man was actually hurt.

Zoro’s jaw visibly tightens, his one open eye alight with the same burn that he eyes an opponent with, expression twisting into one that you know all too well. The face he only makes when -

He wants you.

Your war-torn, bloodthirsty appearance has overwhelmed Zoro, the innate desire etched on his expression like a fool in a daze. Lips twisting into a devious smirk, you’re keen on taking advantage of this rare opportunity of power that you’ve been given over him, and you know exactly how to proceed. With a step toward him, you do something he doesn’t expect, something that has his nails digging into his palms.

You lick blood from your lips.

Zoro’s blood blazes, a carnal, raw emotion swells in his throat with urges he cannot fight - will not fight. Ever a man of action, he’s upon you faster than you can react. Large, calloused fingers envelop your waist, pulling you close in an instant and slamming his lips onto yours in a starved, feverish, messy kiss. The metallic tang of blood on his tongue mixed with the taste of you drives him increasingly wilder each second you stay locked together in the embrace, hastening him further into devoted bliss.

You writhe as he leaves your lips to trail down your neck, lapping up the viscous liquid that coats your flesh in his wake. Zoro is fully prepared to kneel at your altar, to partake of and rejoice in each beautiful proverb that befalls from your sweet tongue, to bathe in every hymn you bestow.

Zoro's hands roam over your body, feeling the contours of your curves beneath the fabric of your torn clothing, tracing the delicate lines of your collarbone and shoulders before coming to rest on the small of your back, holding you firm against him. He feels like he could drown in this moment, in the warmth and passion that courses through his entire being.

Zoro grins wildly, a feral expression on his face as he feels the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips, the heat of your breath against his neck, and the sound of your voice washing over in melodic harmony. He wants nothing more than to revel in this moment, to lose himself completely in the intensity of the connection that you share.

“You wouldn’t believe how good ya look like this,” He growls into your skin, his chapped lips dancing across your collarbone and up to your shoulder. “I feel like I shouldn’t even be allowed to see ya. Feels…” words wane into a series of open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder and into the crook of your neck, deeply inhaling the intoxicating scent of blood, sweat, and battle on your flesh, “...wrong.”

“Doesn’t seem to be stopping you,” You purr, allowing a soft, pleased sigh to slide from your throat when he adds his teeth to the wet assault upon your skin, gently nibbling and grazing at you in a manner that grows hungrier and more sporadic with every passing moment. 

“We both know I ain’t much of a rule follower.” Zoro’s husky voice is hot on your ear, his warm breath sending a jolt of longing right through your nervous system. The hand low on your back begins to wriggle its way through tattered tendrils of threads that once made up your shirt, fingers spread wide as it skims up your pliant softness, tracing along your waist and up between your shoulder blades.

Zoro's touch isn’t quite tender, a clear indication of his burgeoning lust you suspect, but there's honesty, sincerity in his newfound charge. He knows that you aren't fragile, the evidence fresh and red around you speaking well enough on its own, so why stay the hand that plys the sword? 

Men fall to their hands and knees in prayer to gods they’ve never seen, begging for mercy and crying out for deliverance that will not come.

But you - he can see you, he can hear you. 

He can touch you.

Taste you.

You're divine. A paragon of a twisted and bloodied form of justice. It's you that's stupefied him, luring him into a deistic high that has Zoro practically foaming at the mouth with innate desire.

His painfully hard cock strains against his thigh with means to worship you wholly, to partake in his own ideals of perverse, distorted devotion. He breathes in your salty-sweet scent once more and groans in longing, the taste of your crimson essence on his lips makes him feel like an offering to an idol., and every drop that drips down his chin only serves to heighten his senses even more.

He looks up at you through an eye glazed over with depraved adoration, and all he can think of is how good you look, how delicious you are on his tongue, how much he wants to please you, be consumed in your immaculate presence, and to offer himself up as a sacrifice to the darker and more nefarious desire within him.

The urge to claim, to take what he wants from you and find salvation surrounded by your benevolent hold. To act upon the impure aspiration that pulsates in his mind in ways that would make even the most vileindividuals gawk. He yearns to clean the blood from your sacred, championed skin, a lust filled ritual to send you both into sacramental euphoria. 

He’s in a frenzy, feeling and touching each curve and crevice across your body while pulling you impossibly closer to him. Before Zoro can even think, he’s sinking his teeth into your shoulder, overcome with enlightened debauchery and biting down until that deathly addictive taste of your blood is fresh on his tongue once more - a testament to the depth of his obsession and the power of your shared experience.

The pain burns hot, but brief - quickly dissipating away into a cry of raw pleasure, a moan so salacious and so absolute that Zoro feels the very last of his will slipping through his fingers. He laps over the decently deep mark, his saliva mixing into the cuts like kindle to flame and earning him another woefully delightful wail of exasperation.

He thinks himself safe for the interim, that he’s pulled some sense back from the brink - until you say the one thing that shatters him to pieces.

“Do that again.”

He doesn’t deny you, and without hesitation he obliges by drowning his teeth back into your shoulder, pressing deeper into the wound and savoring the way your blood flows across his lips and into his mouth, painting his face red in the process. He grinds his hips against yours in a primitive display of dominance, while his fingers dig into your flesh with bruising force as you dig your nails into his back through his sweat and blood damped shirt.

Despite the danger posed by your actions amidst the threat of more marines, there is something undeniably beautiful about this dance of life and death. In this fleeting moment, Zoro and you find a kind of transcendence - a place where boundaries blur and limits vanish, leaving only pure, unadulterated passion in its wake.

His lips return to yours, and soon enough you feel yourself being whisked off your feet. The open air of the square leaves little room for privacy, but you know he doesn't care. Zoro walks with you in his arms, lips locked together in a messy, bloody, passionate kiss, your legs tight around his waist before he eases you down onto the lip of nameless hero's memorial upon which he plans to ravish you.

Zoro releases his hungry attack on your lips and rips the remnants of your shirt in two, leaving you bare to him as if an offering of communion. To feast upon your body, to drink upon your wine.

You gasp, wincing just a little from the shock of the fresh air upon your chest. “Zoro-” you begin, his name emanating from your breathless lungs as you watch the fabric fall to the ground around you. 

“Y’can have mine,” He replies, leaning forward to pull one of your nipples into his mouth. “After I’m done with ya.” Zoro’s mouth suckles greedily, teasing your sensitive nub with his tongue before biting down hard enough to make you squeal and arch your back, but not draw blood.

His free hand traces down your side, finding respite upon your inner thigh and squeezing tightly onto it, growling as the fresh wound on your shoulder trickles down your chest and right onto his lips and eliciting an absolutely lewd groan from Zoro as he laps it up.

He gazes up at you with an intensity that borders on madness, his eyes burning with an unbridled lust that has you keening. “Ya taste so fuckin’ good,” he growls between his assault on your chest, “God, I can’t get enough.”

“Then take as much as you want.”

And fuck, he does. In an instant does he pop his lips from you to slide your pants away, somehow careful enough to not rip them to shreds - something you’d have to thank him for later. Without even removing his swords from his hip, let alone his own pants - Zoro simply rushes to undo the clasps and push the waistband down enough to free his length, thick and leaking, to bounce out against your pelvis. 

You can feel it even through your underwear, warm heat radiating from what you desire most in this world at this moment. Zoro looks at you, gaze lingering on yours as he slides the fabric shielding your sex to the side and grips your hip with one hand and his cock in the other. He teases it over your slickness tantalizingly while sliding it between your folds and inch by inch are you filled so wonderfully, stretched and stuffed so marvelously full that each tense or twitch of him inside you makes the edges of your vision blur and has you wailing in pleasure.

As soon as your hips are flushed against one another, he gives you but a moment of adjustment before rutting his hips into you quickly, a rhythm so ruthless and wild that leaves you able to do little more aside from gasp out breathlessly and brave his savage ruin. You’re not even sure when your nails crept up his shirt, or when they burrow sharply into his shoulder blades until they’re etching down his back, the crescent shaped lines running his skin raw and bloody, scathing scores fueled by ferocious, crude passion.

He folds you then, one of his hands coming to grip over both of your wrists to pin them above your head as an arm forces your thigh downward. Zoro leans over you, your ankle now bouncing wildly next to his ear while he plows into you at a newer, deeper, more luscious angle. 

Skin slaps against skin in company with brazen indulgence, a foul yet righteous lament for the fallen mere feet from you. From this more cramped position, you’re all but forced to keep eye contact with him - and he’s looking nowhere else but at your face, enraptured by every sound and move you make as you squirm in his hold.

Your desperate pants mix, leaving patches of sweat to pool between your chests. Zoro’s increasing gasps and snarls of ecstasy ring loud in your ear, the sounds echoing through you like a quake and causing you to flutter around his cock. He hisses, harsh and shrill in your ear and with a throaty grunt he pulls out of you, letting your legs fall to the stone pavement and releasing his grasp on your wrists to firmly twist you by the shoulders, spinning you around and sprawling his hand on your lower back to shift you forward into an arch.

He’s sinking into you again, fingers tight and stinging at your waist and burying himself fully inside of you once more. There isn’t even a moment given for reprieve, the man continuing to fuck you as if he hadn’t even left your dripping heat and making you cry out in hypnotizing delight. 

Zoro smacks your ass, relishing in the ripple effect in your pliable flesh left in the wake of his blow. “Shit,” he exhales, adjusting his machinations of impurity to wrap his arms around your waist and lifting you from the ground, holding you in place mid-air and thrusting into you with less and less fluidity by the second. “Feel so fuckin’ amazin’, always do but god damn do you feel so fuckin’ incredible right now.”

You reach back to lock an arm around his neck seeking any leverage to keep yourself upright amidst his onslaught. You’re moaning something incoherent, words neither of you recognize due to the lust-filled haze that fills your minds, feeling the pull of release pit low in your belly as his balls slap against your clit at a rapid pace. 

Delirium bids its toll upon you, tears prickling at your eyes as the climb to your closely approaching high reaches its limit. Drool slides down your chin and onto your neck, and in an instant Zoro catches it with his mouth, once again dissenting on your flesh and gnawing his incisors into your neck - sucking and biting with brutal obsession and marking your angelic skin in devout defiance. The growing familiarity of the warm flow of blood trickling from the bruised indents in your skin makes you crack, flying over the edge with a scream of his name.

He doesn’t slow as you ride out the waves of pleasure coursing through your body, still slamming into you a breakneck speed. You twitch and twist in his arms, the hard beating of his cock keeping a state of hyperstimulation over you, the whimpers and cries of weak will and breathless joy beginning to tip him over the edge. 

The only thing in Zoro’s fogged head is his need to flood you with his spend, to pack you to the brim with his cum until it drips out of you and onto the stone below. He doesn’t even care if you’re bred full of his brats after this - if anything it would show just how he reveres you, claiming you as his own personal magnificence. 

His jaw tenses, still attached securely on your neck, as he cums. Loud groans and grunts and sighs of relief vibrate against your skin, Zoro’s dick leaking and draining into you as your walls milk him for all that you can manage. 

A few final, slow motions and he slides out of you, gently placing you on the ground and instantly rolling his shirt from his shoulders to hand it to you. “As promised,” Zoro says, a deviously weak grin on his face, moving to wipe his brow after you’ve taken the clothing from his outstretched hand. “Want me to patch ya up when we get back?”

“If you don’t mind, yeah.” You reply as you toss the shirt over yourself gently, minding the wounds that line your body as you do so.” Would rather not be asked any questions I don’t want to answer.” Zoro nods, chuckling softly before helping you clean up, using scraps of your ruined shirt as makeshift bandages and rags before he lifts you into his arms for a third time, though this one with the intention of carrying you safely back to the others - a soft apology for his brutality on your flesh, but one he knows he doesn’t need to say.

[eggluverz]

Operation: Dog Food

PAIRING. dan heng x reader

WORD COUNT. 1.0k 

SUMMARY. modern au. neighbor au. dan heng sees his new neighbor sneaking around his front porch. he hopes it’s for a good reason. 

NOTE. my coworker told me how she’s been taking care of a stray dog for the past 4 years and it was so wholesome… then this idea came !! dan heng is my current obsession and modern au’s r my passion <3 pls enjoy :3

Through the small crack between his slightly opened blinds, Dan Heng noticed some unusual movement near his front porch. Not unusual as in suspicious or worrisome. It simply wasn’t something he was used to seeing. 

The apartment next door had been vacant for almost a month now and he had gotten accustomed to the welcomed silence he had experienced while living at home in that time. But just a few days ago, someone had moved in and interrupted the solitude Dan Heng was living in. As much solitude as one could experience in an apartment complex that is. 

Despite what may seem like his complaining, he actually didn’t mind too much. You weren’t a loud or obnoxious neighbor. You didn’t have your television or music blasting loud enough for the entire building to hear like the previous tenant. Thuds and bangs of crashing into walls or dropping items were occasionally heard, but he attributed that more to the almost flimsy build of the apartment rather than you attempting to be loud. 

This, however, was the first time he had seen you so close to his own unit. He wondered what called for this invasion of privacy as he pushed open his curtains to see what you were up to. It seemed rather odd to peer at you through the slivers of his blinds so he figured peering at you through a wide open window must be less strange.

Dan Heng paused, concerned at his thoughts. But you were the one on his porch in the first place— So perhaps he wasn’t the strange one here anyway. 

He sighed, rubbing his temples. You’re coping, as Caelus would say. 

Shaking his head, he decided to focus on the task at hand: To see what you were up to. As Den Heng looked out the window again, he saw you crouching close to the ground, hand out as if holding an offering. What exactly you were offering something to, he did not know. 

He had two options running through his mind. The first was to go back to shut the blinds and go back to reading, leaving you to sort out whatever you were doing in peace. The second option, the one he ended up going with, was to open the door and ask what was going on.

“Is everything okay out here?” he asked, voice gentle as to not startle you. 

Still, you flinched in surprise. “Oh! Yes, but— Don’t make sudden movements or noises right now please I’m trying to help this little baby…”

Dan Heng was only confused for a short while before he laid eyes on the creature you were extending a hand out to. There was small, fluffy dog with disheveled fur and a wide-eyed look on its face standing right beside his porch. 

“A stray?” he concluded. 

You nodded. “I saw him when I first moved in but I figured he had an owner and was just wandering around the neighborhood. But I kept seeing him wander around and he just looks messier and hungrier each day… Realized he probably has no owner after all.”

He hummed. That did seem like a reasonable conclusion to reach.

“So I’m trying to feed him and take him to the vet and maybe take him home with me if he wants,” you explained, taking a small step towards the dog in front of you. At the forward movement, the dog whimpered and dashed away. You let out a groan, frustrated at the failed attempt. 

“Not working out for you?”

You shook your head, finally turning to face him once you accepted that the dog was gone for today. 

Dan Heng considered the situation. The dog looked quite frightened at the prospect of human contact. He wouldn’t be surprised if it had some past trauma and didn’t trust the help of another human. In this case, starting with a more hands off approach would probably be for the best. 

“Have you tried putting a food and water bowl out yet?” 

“No…” you replied, hanging your head in shame. “Should I? I haven’t even bought proper dog food, I just asked someone at work to bring a dog treat for me. I thought he would follow it to my car and I could take him to the vet.”

The corner of his lips raised in amusement. “And that’s okay. You did the best you could do with your current knowledge of the situation. But the dog does seem a bit too frightened by humans to accept your help without feeling safe in this space first.”

“You’re right,” you said with a nod. “I just hope it’s not too late and that I didn’t scare him away forever…” 

“You didn’t,” he said with confidence. “I hear dogs are a good judge of character and I’m sure deep down he can sense you have a great one. You should feel proud for trying to help him in the first place.”

You slowly lifted your head back up, a pouty yet hopeful look on your face. “I do want to help him and not scare him away,” you said with conviction. “Then, I suppose need to get dog bowls and food right now! Wait here, okay?” 

Dan Heng stood there as a few minutes ticked by, unsure why he listened. 

He watched as you ran into your apartment and ran out with a phone and keys in hand. 

“The pet store nearby doesn’t close for another 30 minutes! If we go now we can make it in time,” you said breathlessly, eyes lighting up with determination.

We?, he mused. 

Dan Heng wasn’t sure how he got himself roped into this dog-saving mission but he had no urge to back out of it now. He wanted to help the stray. And you. 

You ran a few steps ahead before realizing he hadn’t moved yet. You looked back at him with a hesitate smile. “Coming?” 

Without missing a beat, he followed after you this time. “I’m right behind you,” Dan Heng promised. “Let’s go rescue that dog.”

[hansolmates]

[teaser] fly to my room

banner made by @eerieedits

summary; with a super huge crush on the super student jeon jungkook, you can't help but feel inferior with your subpar abilities when he's the literal hercules on campus. however, with a potential group of super villain students on the loose, you might have to tamp down your feelings to save your school pairing; superhero!jungkook x superhero support!reader (f) genre/warnings; sky high!au, university!au, mha!au, self deprecation lol, hero elitism, sidekicks can get bullied :(, strong man!jk, jk is a lil cocky and flirty, one lil sexy thing BUT that's it >:D w/c; preview is 561 a/n; no words just AAAAA

“Hey, watch out!” 

A metal discus is being blown through the wind, the cause being Jungkook who’s training on the hero’s side of the stadium. You can only stare wide-eyed, focusing on Jungkook’s arms, still poised mid-air from the throw. The discus is shiny and looks like it’s barely moving from the amount of speed Jungkook has curved onto it, but you close your eyes and push your hands out towards the hurling force. 

Bing! 

You feel the heavy hunk pass through your void, a wink in time that has you feeling dizzy as you try to refocus the exit portal. The speed is what gets you, and has you immediately sweating from your forehead as you force the object to rip back into the current dimension, the discus landing right at Jungkook’s feet. 

“That—was great!” Namjoon teleports right in your face, mouth huge with praise. He is grabbing your shoulders, shaking you frantically in his excitement. “Wow, did you see how fast that thing was going? Maybe it was a fight or flight response—obviously, Jungkook would’ve cut your neck open—” 

“Great visual, Namjoon—” 

“But you teleported it! Aren’t you proud?” 

There’s no time to be proud when Jungkook is bounding across the field to meet you in the sidekick section. It causes all the other Superhero Supports to stop a fraction in their training, wondering how this conversation will go. Namjoon continues to stick by you however, knowing how absolutely abysmal you are in the presence of the famed hero. Having talked to Jungkook once or twice in class, Namjoon begrudgingly understands what’s so charming about the guy. 

You’re too focused on the gilded appearance Jungkook brings to the stadium. His blond hair gleams in the sun, and the lightweight metal that protects his arms wraps around his muscles like liquid gold. He’s absolutely blinding. 

“We meet again,” Jungkook grins, “are you okay?” 

“I-I’m sorry?” you fight the urge to wince when Namjoon pinches your waist. 

“You’re a teleporter, right? Your reaction time was insane!” Jungkook is smiling at you, prattling off your stats with a fervor you fail to understand. “Maybe they can bump you up to Hero-Class next exam, I’m sure you’re not far from the cutoff.” 

“No, actually. I’m just trying to stay afloat,” you force a shaky laugh, running a hand through your hair, “thanks though.” 

“I’ll put in a good word to Professor Luna,” Jungkook winks, turning away to return to his training session. 

“Jungkook’s right,” Namjoon squeezes your body again, trying to keep you in this dimension. “Your reaction time was insane. Can you imagine the power you’ll have when you finally gain control? Let’s go to the shooting range right now, test it out!” 

“Oh my god, he talked to me,” you whisper to yourself, replaying the conversation over and over in your head. Namjoon is but a spirit in your vision. 

“I mean, he had to. Like I said, he almost decapitated you,” he waves a hand in front of your face, “c’mon, stop thinking about Jungkook!”

“You're asking for the impossible, Joonie,” you frown, picking up your backpack. 

You take one step at a time, still feeling numb from the interaction. Namjoon insists that you should ride off this high, and train a little more. The only high you’re focusing on is the beating of your heart, and Jungkook’s gleaming grin. 

[baeshijima]

— in these quiet nights

whenever you're stuck in solitude, ayato somehow manages to find a way to be by your side without fail.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 900+ wc, fluff, established relationship

A/N : its 1 am, currently using this as an escape from my project, and writing a very late ayato piece for his bday ;w; life stop making me have no time for my fictional men pls and ty <//3

There’s a solemn chill hanging overhead. The air stills, the stars dull, and the moonlight glimmers.

It’s not often you find a moment of peace, what with your busy schedule interfering time and time again, though you could argue it’s more solitary than it is tranquil. Perhaps this escapade would have been better suited in the early hours of dawn as opposed to the steadily approaching midnight you’re currently stuck in.

A whisper of a sigh slips through your lips. Pulling the thin blanket closer around your shoulders, you lift your gaze upwards, paying half a mind to the feather-light footsteps approaching from behind. You have no reason to turn to be able to identify the new presence, for who else would be mad enough to be up this late after the busy day which transpired?

“A fine evening, is it not?” comes that oh-so familiar intonation, the footsteps coming to a halt behind your seated form. Strands of baby blue obstruct your view of the bleak stars, a pair of lavender eyes twinkling with fond mischief follow in pursuit. Despite his towering form shielding you from the pale lighting, his face glows all the same — a testament to the sheer elegance instilled within. His gaze drifts down your shadowed form, a light hum trailing close behind. “Are you cold?”

You blink at his question. It takes a few seconds for you to realise the main focus of his concern; the blanket tugged over your shoulders. “How can I be when there’s no wind?”

As soon as the question is uttered, you immediately sense a foreboding shiver trickle down your spine. Maybe it’s the hairs along the back of your neck rising, or it could be the puffs of air Ayato is relentlessly blowing towards your dumbfounded figure.

“Do you feel the wind now?” he has the gall to ask. Unsurprisingly, the impish grin splayed across his lips becomes increasingly more tempting to slap off the longer he persists. Unfortunately, your hands are occupied, making it near impossible to move them. 

(Archons forbid you actually exert unneeded energy when you’re already spent.)

“Yes,” you deadpan, “I’m so cold my teeth are chattering. Can you hear it?”

He hums in faux contemplation, a gloved hand raised to rest under his chin in an attempt to further support his charade. “Not quite. Perhaps I ought to bring out the fan.”

“Please don’t. My teeth will really chatter then.”

Your shoulders relax upon hearing his gleeful laugh. In a fluid motion he steps away from you, exposing you to the stark moonlight, before plopping himself on the veranda beside you. Before you have the time to process the string of movements, your left arm is promptly lifted up (with the blanket following suit) as a bundle of warmth dives into the newly opened space, your arm tugged down and around the intruder of your personal space.

Well, at least he’s warm.

“If you’re tired then go to bed.” As soon as the words are uttered, a displeased whine escapes him. Much to your bemusement, a ticklish sensation occurs at the crook of your neck, and you belatedly realise the act akin to nuzzling currently being performed by the bane of your existence, his arms wrapping around your torso in protest. Like a child.

“Why should I?” he mutters into your skin, tone bitter and laced with indignance someone of his standing should most definitely not have. Well, you can’t say you’re not used to it.

“Because you need proper sleep.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll get sick again if you keep this up.”

“...”

“...”

“But why?”

Archons have mercy on your poor soul.

“I’d rather not be known as your personal pillow,” you state monotonously, positively done with his antics. “I have some dignity left in me.”

“And if I were to say you’re warmer than my bed and comfier than my pillow?”

(You’re not. You can attest to that fact as someone who has actually slept in his bed — which is unfairly warm and comfortable, if you may add.)

Gaze narrowing at the smug expression beaming up at you, you merely retort, “Do you want me to drag you to bed myself?”

“If it’s you then I would happily obli— mmrph.” Swiftly, your palms smother his words before he has the chance to finish. And no, you will not be swayed by the doe eyes batting up at you, nor by the fluttering of his long eyelashes brushing along the apples of his cheeks.

What an unfairly pretty lover you have in your palms. Literally.

Seeing how he’s more than happy with the skin contact being made, you take it upon yourself to swiftly remove your hands and return your gaze to the night’s canvas, his theatrical bemoans of your “cold shoulder” and “[Name] doesn’t love me anymore” going ignored.

It stays quiet between you for a while, the only sounds being the faint breaths and rhythmic heartbeats steadily falling in sync. Oddly enough, you find yourself forgetting the previous solitude you were trapped in only moments prior, focusing instead on Ayato’s fingers entwined with yours and basking in his familiarity.

Your shoulder dips slightly when a weight drops atop it. When you glance down to identify the source of permeating warmth, you can’t help the smile alighting your features.

“Thank you for loving me as much as I love you, Ayato,” you murmur against the crown of his head as you place a chaste kiss, before pulling the thin blanket around the two of you in an effort to cage your shared warmth.

(How strange, you silently muse to yourself, suddenly finding yourself overcome with drowsiness. The air feels warmer now.)

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[sunlightmurdock]

Operation Apollo | 2.1 | Jake Seresin x Reader au

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synopsis: After a threat is made against her life, the President’s grown up daughter gets her security tripled. Her long term detail is about to retire and needs replacing, only — she isn’t the easiest to work with. Ex-Navy and current Secret Service, Jake Seresin is devoted to being the best at everything he does. He isn’t going to let a bratty little girl cost him this job.

warnings: age gap, power imbalance, enemies to lovers, danger and angst, mentions of sex, mentions of plotted kidnapping, dark themes to follow, arguing, lack of communication on both sides. Smut (pinv) briefly at the end. 4k words

…

Awake long enough to see the full range of the sky’s gradient, an almost grey Steele colour to a powder blue brightened by the morning sun, Jake rubs a hand tiredly over his aching eyes. They hurt when he closes them, so he tries not to.

“I’m a busy man, Seresin, I can’t keep having this conversation with you.”

Matthew’s voice is stern on the line, there’s a monotony to it, like he’s already bored of speaking about this. They have had this conversation before, four times already actually. But Jake hasn’t grown bored of it. In fact, he can’t think of anything else.

Sleep-deprived and out of sorts, Jake’s heart aches in his chest.

“There’s just — there has to be another way,” Jake says gently.

Fiddling with a pen, taking it’s intricate insides apart and piecing it back together, Matthew stifles a sigh. He rubs a hand over his eyes and shoots a look towards his assistant, then shakes his head. The pause tells Jake what he needs to know.

“She’s never going to trust any of us again.” Jake insists, his voice quieter now than it had been before. Matthew barely notices, frowning as the pen bursts and ink spills out onto his fingertips.

“She’ll trust who I tell her to trust,” Matthew answers back, discarding the pen with little thought to the damage that it causes. Black ink seeping out onto hundred year old wood. Caring more for the mess on his hand, he reaches for a tissue and swipes the ink from his fingers. “Now, if you don’t mind, kid — I’ve got an important meeting to get to.”

The line clicks dead before Jake’s got an opportunity to respond. You hum softly and press closer to him, your cheek smushed into his abdomen and your arms draped loosely around his hips. He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he soaks in the image of you like this, sleeping so peacefully against him.

He follows the curve of your back as his fingers trail, featherlight, along the length of your spine. Ten days of knowing what he knows.

At first, he tried to take it in his stride. There’s no certainty in missions like these, there is almost always another way. Options exhausted and the gala fast approaching, he can barely bring himself to look you in the eye these days.

This is easier. Just this moment. Your bare chest lying against his front, sheets just covering your bottom half.

He knows that you’re on to him. He hasn’t exactly been subtle about his withdrawal. Yet, you’ve come sneaking into his bed for the last ten days straight without fail. Even if he hasn’t touched you since you left San Diego.

Almost certainly, that’s what last night’s display was about. Him standing by the balcony door, letting the fresh air soothe the strain in his chest, when you pulled open your balcony door. Wearing nothing but a skimpy pair of underwear, you had strolled right past him, looking him dead in the eye, and then slipped into his bed without a word.

Still nothing. Jake had stepped out onto the balcony to continue his conversation without fear of you hearing. When he had returned, you were already asleep. He can’t pretend that he wasn’t glad that you were.

His lips quirk softly as you hike your leg around his, shifting closer. He smooths his hand over the subtle v-shape your underwear makes, stretched out over your hips when you lie like this. It’s cute that you need his affection the way that you do. He likes giving it to you.

It just doesn’t feel right now. It won’t again until he knows that he has done everything in his power to keep you safe. As many options as he has exhausted, he can’t stop trying just yet. Two more days until he’s supposed to take you to the airport and let you attend that gala.

Jake smooths the backs of his fingers across your cheek softly. The action tickles your skin and makes you stir. Still deep in sleep, sprawled out across white sheets, one of your hands presses to his stomach like you’re checking that he’s still there. He exhales slowly, finding peace in watching you sleep.

He wishes he could join you, the two of you tangled peacefully in pleasant dreams. He hasn’t been sleeping much lately. Too busy trying to fix it. Hundreds of phone calls, emails, freedom of information requests and accessing confidential documents. And still, the man at the top says that his plan is the best.

Jake remembers starting this job and knowing that the danger you were in was so grave that it had to be kept from you. He remembers reading the letter that was on your pillow, his stomach churning at the lines and lines of detailed threats.

Reaching for fabric to unconsciously tug him closer, your fingers extend against the ridges on his stomach and your brows furrow slightly. Never one to deny you, even when you’re not awake to make the request, he knows you well enough to know what you want. Shifting down the bed slightly, he presses himself against your side and drapes an arm around you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

As you settle into this new position, Jake holds you a little closer, resting his cheek against the top of your head. Your heart beats steadily against his, the soothing rhythm almost enough to drag him into the sleep that he has been fighting. Still fighting now, he keeps himself awake by massaging your back, gently kneading and stroking your skin under his warm palm.

“Mm, feels nice.” You hum softly into his chest.

He damn near flinches at the sudden sound of your voice, even with its half-awake cadence and muffled start. Eyes widening, he pulls back to find you smiling sleepily with your eyes still closed. You scrunch your features, preparing for the morning light, beginning with a few soft blinks to adjust before you really look at him.

“Morning.” You smile, stretching your arms above your head. With Jake’s sudden change in attitude this past week, this affection is a welcome surprise. Almost ten days of downright glacial treatment from the blonde haired agent. He’s been working hard so you’ve given him a pass.

You’re not too sure with what but the elections are picking up speed now and things always get a little tricky around this time. That, and you’re going to be back in classes from next month.

“Morning.” Jake says quietly, like he’s ashamed to have been caught being so affectionate. The look on his face is hard to ignore. He has already withdrawn from this exchange before he moves to get up from the bed. You reach out and catch his dog tags, knowing that he won’t pull back hard enough to risk you breaking them.

He turns his head, glancing down at your fingers curled around the metal, slowly lifting his gaze to look at your face again.

“Stay in bed.” It’s neither a request or an order. It’s the first thing you’ve asked of him in a while. Releasing the metal, you smooth your fingers along the inside of his arm. Trailing along each inch of warm skin, following the veins on his forearm down until you can entwine your fingers with his and give a gentle tug.

“I’ve got a phone call to make.” Jake answers, giving a soft shake of his head. He squeezes your hand and moves to drop it. Pushing yourself up and supporting your weight against your palms, your face doesn’t give much away about what you’re wanting to say to him. But he knows anyway.

“Jake,” It’s quiet, almost like a warning — the look in your eyes tells him that it’s more of a plea. “Just stay for a little bit longer.”

His eyes trail downwards, his shoulder casting a shadow across the morning glow that has managed to soak the rest of your body. Wearing nothing but a white cotton thong, giving the excuse of last night’s lingering heat even with the sound of the air conditioning in the room muffling your words. The manufactured chill covers your body even now, his absence making it all the worse. Your nipples perked and goosebumps covering your arms. Jake trails his fingers over them, feeling your eyes on him. Waiting for his decision.

“This… it’s an important call.” He offers you no other consolation, no excuse, as he pushes himself up from the bed and turns his back on you. He can’t bring himself to touch you with such a weight on his mind. Until he has fixed this, he doesn’t deserve to.

“Jake.” You repeat. He doesn’t look at you, grabbing some shorts from beside the bed and pulling them up his legs. He has been showering in the downstairs gym so that there’s no chance of him bumping into you while you’re still laying in his bed. Exhaling heavily, he grabs his phone and moves for the door.

“Jake, if you don’t look at me right now, I swear to god, I’m going to start screaming.” Right back where you started, fighting fire with fire. It works and you’re met with an endearingly serious jade-coloured gaze. A silent warning from the man at the foot of the bed. He stares back at you. The almost naked girl in his bed with his heart in the palm of her hand.

Exhausted and already at his whit’s end with the careless decisions that your family seem prone to making, he shakes his head.

“Do what you want, honey.” Jake replies, tone calm and calculated. Knowing that you care for him too much follow through with your threat. He slips his phone into the pocket of his gym shorts and cranes his neck to the left. He’s wound so tight these days that it feels like his head might roll right off of his shoulders if he dares to stretch further.

Your gaze burns into his back as he curls his fingers around the door handle and tugs it open.

“What is the matter with you, you fucking asshole?”

Jake goes to ignore you. It’s his every intention. It’s even in motion, the door swinging shut behind him as he starts down the hallway. It’s only when he hears it bump into the wall as you swing it back open that he can’t call your bluff any further.

“I’m talking to you!” You insist.

Jake spins, green eyes blown exceptionally wide at the sight of you in the doorway. Two steps forward and you’ll be in the frame of the hallway camera.

“Don’t you dare.” Jake warns, squinting as he takes a step back in your direction. Immediately, he knows this was the wrong thing to do. There’s a glint in your eye that tells him he just played right into your hands. Either he comes to you or you go to him. “Put some fucking clothes on or something, anyone could—“

“I don’t care if the entire secret service sees! I said: I’m talking to you. Don’t walk away from me!” Your voice carries and the open-planned house doesn’t do much to stifle the noise.

Jake walks forwards so swiftly that instinct carries you a couple of steps back. Far enough into the room for him to slam the door shut and corner you against his dresser.

“Keep your fucking voice down.” He warns you, deadly serious now.

“I’ll let this whole neighborhood know what a dick you’re being if you don’t start giving me answers, Seresin.” You poke a finger into his chest and square your shoulders. Even with him hulking over you, there’s not a chance that you’re going to budge on this.

“It’s not my job to give you answers.” Jake answers back. The words spill from the inside of his mouth, cold and sharp. You squint at him.

“I don’t think it’s in your job description to fuck me either, and yet here we are.”

He inhales slowly and exhales even slower. You study his face, trying to find the answers you need between the furrows and creases in his features.

“Something happened in San Diego, and you’re going to tell me what it was.” You insist, standing up straighter so that he has no choice but to take a step back and give you room.

“I don’t take orders from you.” Jake replies swiftly, green eyes on yours without faltering in the slightest.

“If you want me to go over your head on this, Jake, then—“

He scoffs and pulls back, pinching the bridge of his nose. The idea is almost laughable, he truly has to stop himself from laughing at you. Something seethes through him, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he paces back. “Try it. Be my fucking guest. Call your dad.”

At least then it’ll be on him to explain this fucked up bet he has made, with you as the wager. In fact, Jake would enjoy that. The plan would fall through, you’d realise everything that Jake has been doing to keep you safe and he’d be able to start sleeping again.

Seeing him almost laugh at you changes the tone of the conversation entirely. You’ve been here before, and this feeling certainly isn’t unfamiliar. The only one who doesn’t know.

Such a bright girl. So clever. Such a bright future. Beautiful and smart. All of those compliments, all of those good grades — and there’s always still a man standing in front of you, trying not to laugh.

“Maybe I will call him,” You bite back, straightening up again like something will change and suddenly you’ll be the one towering over him. It sure feels that way with this anger surging through you. “I’m sure it would do wonders for your career if I were to speak to my dad today.”

“Did you just threaten me?” Jake’s brows knit together and he presses forwards. Your back bumps into his dresser before you even realize that you’ve stepped back. He gives you a quick glance up and down, then steps out of your space. “Put some fucking clothes on. Keep yourself busy today, I don’t want you bugging me for anything.”

This time when he goes for the door, you let him. You let it slam shut behind you and pretend that it doesn’t make you flinch.

Jake pretends that he doesn’t hear you screaming ‘asshole’ as he continues downstairs. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, several eyes are on him.

“Don’t you idiots have something you should be doing?” Jake bites, shaking his head as he continues past the living room and towards the gym. He spends the rest of the morning carefully maneuvering the house, making sure there’s not a chance that he’s going to run into you.

“I was surprised that you called! — it’s been forever.” Blake’s face is turned towards the sun as her long, slender legs sprawl along the lounger. Her martini glass rests against her stomach, droplets of condensation trailing along the stem and onto her fair, freckled skin.

Your posture attempts to mimic hers. Only, your fingers drum against the side of your hi-ball glass and the inside of your cheek has gone numb from all of the nervous chewing. It’s a while afternoon by this point, the sun is high and there’s a breeze soft enough to make the heat deceptively mild.

“Mm, well, I missed you.” You reply gently.

She doesn’t move, squaring her shoulders and adjusting her tanning position just slightly, “I missed you too. But you sounded kind of upset on the phone.”

Closing your eyes for a moment, your thankful that your sunglasses mask the realisation. All of those years of media training and your runway model friend can see right through it. You’re letting your guard slip. Your brows scrunch softly at the pain in your head.

“Just kind of a crappy week, nothing big. How’ve you been anyway?”

“I just got back from Italy actually,” “You know, the girls and I are going to Belize at the end of the month. You should come. I was going to invite you, but you’re kind of hard to reach sometimes.”

“I don’t think that would fly.” You shake your head quickly, shooting a quick glance to the rookie sitting up on the deck. He might as well have a pair of binoculars for how intently he’s watching the two of you.

“I’m sure you could strike up a deal with one of the men in black, right? — Get them to pull some strings for you?” She pulls her sunglasses down and winks. It’s just a lighthearted joke, she doesn’t mean anything by it. Until she sees the look on your face.

You have had classes on this since you were a kid. Someone stepping on a nerve and you not flinching in the slightest. Yet, she barely even nudges the cover of your secret and your demeanor changes.

Turning your head, your gaze focuses on the pool as you shift. Pretending that it’s just to find a comfier spot rather than fidgeting with nerves.

“Oh my god,” Blake turns, setting her glass down on the table between the two of you, then propping herself up on her palm. Every fibre of her attention is on you — which is a rare occurrence from Blake. “Are you fucking one of them?”

The intrigue in her voice should be a dead giveaway. On a day where your head was a little clearer, you would’ve taken time to analyze exactly what it was about her tone that didn’t feel quite right.

Today, you’re alone and you’re wounded, and she’s looking at you waiting for her answer.

“Jake.” You nod quietly.

“The one who came to my party?”

You nod sheepishly at her, lifting your sunglasses off of your face so that you can study her reaction a little more closely. She grins wolfishly and leans forwards. Up close, it appears as intrigue.

“Girl, tell me everything.” She sounds giddy as she smiles across at you, reaching for her glass again. And the floodgates open. You start from the beginning and it’s hard to slow down from there. The first gala, the party, the break-in, and then Texas.

“This is the best posting I’ve ever had,” The voice is hushed just the slightest amount, no real effort is being made to. A couple of chuckles follow it. “God, look at that. God bless America.” More chuckles follow.

Jake rounds the corner, fresh off of a phone call with the head of security at the White House and not in the mood to be fucked with. Three of the rookies standing around the kitchen, staring out of the window, focused on the pool. They take no notice of Jake as he strolls past them to check the view.

You’re lying on your stomach, in a black bikini that’s more strings and ties than it is real fabric. Standing from where he is, he’s got just about the perfect view. The swell of your ass covered by the skimpy black material and the curve of your breast peeking out from the side of the top, too deep in conversation to notice that you’re being watched.

“God, I’d fuck her into the next century, man.”

Jake turns his head slowly and his gaze locks on the kid who just made the mistake of speaking. He stares calmly. He’s a little too still, just watching in a way that’s unnerving enough to have the young man fidgeting on his feet.

“What? — Like you wouldn’t?” The boy tries, swallowing and glancing around to the others for help. Jake’s lips quirk softly. He glances back towards the pool and the girl that he loves, and back at the shithead that was drooling over her.

“I catch you doing that again, and I’ll drown you in that pool.” Jake warns calmly. He takes his time to look between the young agents and nods, just to confirm that he meant what he said. “Now, move.”

They scuttle away like bugs. Jake sighs softly, leaning against the kitchen island and resting his head in his hands. His temples throb when he closes his eyes, that can’t mean anything good.

“Have you heard those little perverts?”

Not a moment’s peace, Jake lifts his head as Manny strolls into the kitchen. He hums a tired agreement. Manny rolls his eyes at their behavior and leans against the other side of the island.

“So?”

“So, what?” Jake mumbles, rubbing softly at his eyes, hoping that it’ll make the pain stop long enough for him to keep his eyes going.

“So what’s up with you and Apollo?”

Jake looks up, struggling through the pain behind his eyes, brows furrowed. He waits for Manny to elaborate before he dares to attempt at an explanation.

“You two screaming at each other this morning?” Manny prompts. Jake closes his eyes again and stifles a sigh. It’s hard to care about keeping a low profile when someone knows how to step on his nerves like you do.

“Told her to put some damn clothes on. She can’t keep walking around here half naked.”

“Yeah, not with those little vultures hanging around. Her dad’s gonna kill us if she winds up sleeping with one of them, you know that, right?” Manny breathed out, shaking his head softly as he checks out of the window to make sure you’re still where you’re meant to be.

Jake hums and pinches the bridge of his nose. He isn’t trying to avoid you that afternoon. Not like he was this morning. It just so happens that you don’t run into him again until the evening.

He closes the door to his room and almost frowns when he sees that you aren’t in his bed. Before he has time, he registers the sound of the water running. Locking his bedroom door behind him, he gently twists the bathroom door handle and lets himself inside.

You’re silent, aware of his presence but not looking at him. You lather soap over your legs as he rids himself wordlessly of his clothes. Your breath catches in your throat as his chest presses into your back.

Jake drapes one arm around your waist and pulls you back against him. He turns his face into the crook of your neck and leaves soft kisses against your damp skin.

“I love you.” He reminds you, working a string of kisses along the ridge of your shoulder. You lean back into his touch, silent. He wouldn’t be saying that if he knew.

Telling Blake had never been part of the plan. You hadn’t realised quite how much you had been holding in until you had started to let it out. It had felt so good to finally talk about it, to finally say it out loud. Such a relief, each word truly a weight off of your chest.

Now, a new weight presses heavy on you. Knowing that it’s only a matter of time. That you could’ve screwed it all up. That he’ll never trust you again. You whimper softly as he nips at the column of your throat. He snakes both arms around your torso and squeezes you tight in his arms.

Options exhausted, every box checked and each one of them a dud, there’s nothing that Jake can do but revel in the time he has left where you’ll believe in him.

You lean forwards and arch your back away from his chest as he sucks softly at your throat, squeezing his arms around your middle. Catching hold of his thigh for leverage, a small whimper slips your lips as you grind back.

Jake’s hand nudges between your legs, mouth working expertly against your neck. After ten days without his touch, you’re soaking his fingers in a matter of minutes, shivering against his hold even under the steamy water.

“You want it?” Jake breathes out as you grind yourself back against him. He kisses every part of skin that he can reach, keeping you pressed into his chest. You nod feverishly, humming a quick please that’s lost somewhere between the running stream of water and the soft groan that vibrates from his lips and onto your neck.

You gasp softly as he withdraws his fingers and presses the tip of his cock into you, a contented moan falling from your lips. Jake exhales slowly against your skin as he sinks in deeper until he’s buried in you completely.

“Missed you.” You breathe out quietly, trying to rock your hips. Jake presses a palm into the wall in front of you and grabs your hip with the other, nodding as he settles his forehead against the back of your shoulder.

“Missed you too, darlin’.” He murmurs.

…

@alanadetigy @thedroneranger @momc95 @basicchelsea @perpetuelledaydreaming @cherrycola27 @eviesaurusrex @xoxabs88xox @desert-fern @fuckyeahhangman @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @khaylin27 @cowboybarbie @someinsanefangirl @marchingicenotes7 @marantha @lgg5989 @herladyshipxx @chaoticweirdogeek @mak-32 @obiwankenobis-lap @diamond-3 @wolvesofthewinter @shawnsblue @itsmytimetoodream

[bruce-wayne-simp]

Based off of this ask for @gabessquishytum

Wanting, Kneading

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.7k

Pairing: Dreamling (human au)

Characters: Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless, Orpheus (mentioned)

Tagging: @valeriianz, @chaosheadspace, and @tj-dragonblade ❤️❤️

-> Ao3 Link <-

Dream thought hiring a private chef was a good idea. And it was. At first.

He had just gotten full custody of Orpheus and, after a few weeks of disastrous attempts at making dinner– which resulted in burnt food, dishes in the sink, and, ordering out– he had finally decided on a chef named Robert Gadling, or Hob, as he had enthusiastically insisted Dream call him upon their first meeting.

Dream had realized he was screwed when Hob's warm, brown eyes lit up the minute he saw Orpheus. Taking the four year old's tiny hand in his own to shake, and hanging on to every word that came out of his mouth, few that they were.

The fact that he was handsome, too, didn't help Dream's plight in the slightest.

Which is how he has currently found himself standing over the kitchen island with Hob, Orpheus at preschool, brownies cooling on the counter, learning how to knead bread dough.

"It's really quite simple actually." Hob starts as he clears the island. "A lot of people use stand mixers for it. Which is nice if you're in a rush, but I mean, people have been doing it this way for thousands of years, you know? Why change it up now? Besides, I like using my hands."

Hob directs Dream to stand across from him and starts explaining how to work the dough, but Dream is distracted. The other man's sleeves are pushed up, exposing his hairy, thick forearms. His muscles flex and move deliciously under the skin as he kneads the dough, his instructing voice weirdly soothing.

Dream startles as Hob plops the dough ball down in front of Dream. "Your turn."

Dream covers his hands in flour and tries desperately to scrounge up some recollection of what Hob had been doing, and clumsily tries to replicate it. Hob, for his part, is very patient with him, coaching him through it.

Dream huffs after his third failed attempt. "I can't do it."

"Nonsense. Of course you can." Hob smiles and steps around the table toward him.

Dream's breath hitches and he tenses, but forces himself to relax as Hob moves to stand behind him.

The other man gets close. Warm, strong hands grasp his, moving them in order to properly knead the dough.

"Don't be so gentle. You can be rough with it, it will be fine." Hob's breath is hot on his ear, sending chills down his spine, arousal starting to simmer in his belly.

Hob keeps moving their hands, pressing them together, his fingers interlocked with Dream's. He can feel Hob's calluses, rough on the back of his own hand.

Hob presses in even closer– oh fuck– nearly forcing Dream's body into the counter, Hob's chest meeting his back. He can feel the warmth of him through his shirt. His eyes flutter.

On the next downward motion, Dream pushes himself back and feels Hob's prick grind against his ass. He's hard. He hears a stuttering breath against his ear. Hob grinds back against him a bit.

"Dream." He breathes.

"Hob." It comes out as a whine.

"Fuck. Hold on." He lets go of one of Dream's hands to grab the kneaded dough off the counter and slam it back into the bowl with a metallic clang. "It needs to rest."

In one swift motion, Hob turns him around and slots their lips together, crowding him up against the counter. Dream feels dizzy as Hob's tongue enters his mouth. He moans, flour-covered hands moving up into Hob's hair, leaving streaks of white.

"Fuck, Dream." Hob gasps.

Dream grinds his hips against Hob's, making him groan. Hob's hands move to grab the underside of his thighs, hoisting him up so they can grind against each other. Dream's arousal turns sharper at the display of strength.

Dream pulls away and looks him in the eye. "Fuck me."

From his spot on the counter, he watches Hob's eyes darken. The fingers gripping his thighs tighten the slightest bit.

"Yes." Hob leans in and kisses him again, hands petting Dream's sides and hips. Hob tastes sweet, their tongues sliding against each other. Hob's hands slide up to slip underneath his shirt, Dream shudders as his hands stroke the sensitive skin of his belly.

"You're gorgeous." Hob's fingers are carding through his hair now. He tilts his head back and groans.

As Hob kisses him, he reaches around the other man's back to untie his apron. Hob pulls away from his mouth briefly to pull the strap over his head, and Dream tosses it across the kitchen. He returns to kissing Hob with a vengeance, pulling the other man close by his belt loops. Dream rolls his hips sharply, pulling a low groan from him. A thrill shudders through his spine at the sound.

Hob’s hands are under his shirt now, gripping his waist. His hands are slightly sticky from the dough, but Dream could not care less. He pushes his tongue into Hob’s mouth, tasting him.

He starts to unbutton Hob’s shirt, revealing thick, glorious, coarse, brown chest hair that he wants to bury his face in, though he settles for dragging his nails through it. Hob tugs at the edge of his shirt and Dream quickly pulls away to let him pull it up over his head, letting it fall to the floor.

Dream pushes his chest into Hob’s, rough hair tickling his own bare chest. They stay like that for a little bit, grinding slightly, teasing each other, breathing the same air. His eyes are warm, and fond.

God, he’s fucked.

Dream reaches up, slowly pushing the shirt off of Hob’s shoulders. They're broad, strong, dwarfing his own slight build. Hob kisses him again, this time trailing down to start kissing his neck. He tilts his head to the side, sighing at the rough feel of his stubble.

“You said you wanted me to fuck you, darling?” Hob gusts, breath hot against his neck.

“Yes, please.” Dream huffs a breath as Hob steps away for a second, opening a cabinet and grabbing the olive oil.

He sets it down on the counter, yanking Dream off, spinning him around and guiding him to bend over the counter with one strong hand on his back. The show of strength sets his stomach aflutter, anticipation and arousal melding together.

Strong arms encircle his waist as Hob reaches around him to undo his jeans, pulling them down to his thighs. He settles himself against the table as he hears Hob open the oil, soon feeling blunt, slick fingers at his hole.

Hob takes his time fingering him open, kissing anywhere he can reach and driving Dream crazy by switching between ignoring his prostate and steadily rubbing it until he’s begging.

“Fuck, Hob- please, please.” Hob gives him one final hard pass over his prostate, the pleasure zinging up his spine, making his eyes roll a little, before he pulls his fingers out. He strokes a soothing hand along Dream’s spine as he slicks himself up.

Dream groans out a, “Fuck.” As the head of Hob’s cock presses against his hole. Slowly, slowly, Hob slides in. The oil isn't quite as good as the lube he has upstairs, the stretch burning a bit, but it feels incredible, his legs trembling with it.

When Hob finally bottoms out, Dream is breathing hard, his every exhale tinged with a whine. He feels warm lips press against the nape of his neck, a quiet ‘shhh’ soothing him.

They stay like that for a while, Hob running his fingers through Dream's hair and whispering something that Dream can't focus enough to catch.

“Hob-” Dream whines. Hob runs his hands down Dream’s thighs, coming back up to settle at his waist.

“I’ve got you, love.” He pulls out slowly, cock dragging along his inner walls, before thrusting back in again, holding him in place, hips digging slightly into the counter’s edge.

Dream moans, breath hitching with every hard thrust. Hob’s cock is constantly sliding against his prostate, sending pleasure radiating throughout his body, through his abdomen, down to his toes.

Hob starts a fast rhythm, sending Dream higher and higher, the heat building in his belly at a fast pace.

A chocolatey scent fills his nose, and something small and warm is being pushed against his lips, “Open up, love.”

He does, and suddenly his senses are overwhelmed with rich chocolate. The overstimulation of his taste buds, mixed with the pleasure coursing through his body is nearly too much, he doesn't know which to focus on.

“Please, please.” He begs. Hob grabs his hips and somehow starts fucking him even faster.

“Come for me, darling. You can do it.” He pants, his thrusts starting to get erratic.

Dream keens, back arching. He scrabbles to grab ahold of something, anything. Hob’s hand finds his and he squeezes, surely nearly breaking it, as he screams his pleasure.

He feels the warmth of Hob spilling into him a few moments later. Hob leans heavily onto the counter over top of Dream as they come down.

After a few minutes, Hob starts to straighten up. Dream hisses as he pulls out, and Hob breathes a, “Sorry, love.”

They both stand and silently fix themselves up as best they can. Which isn't much, at least in Dream’s case, he has flour covering his chest and face. Irritatingly enough, Hob looks more put together, if a bit flushed. He chuckles at Dream’s scowl.

“Here.” Hob grabs a dish towel, wets it, and gets to work wiping Dream’s face. His index finger is curled under his chin, tilting it up, and Dream can't stop staring at his eyes, focused on his task.

Hob finishes wiping the flour off of his face, and moves down to his chest before he catches Dream staring at him, seeming to realize he may have overstepped. He freezes, face flushing.

“Uh- I. I think you've got that covered, I'll just- uh. Bathroom! I'll go wash and then, uh, start cleaning up in here.” He rushes off, muttering something about, ‘Going to have to bin those brownies.’

Then Dream is left standing dumbly in the middle of his kitchen, the memory of strong hands and warmth all over his body, holding a damp dish towel.

Shit.

Fin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonus:

“Bin the ass brownies” - @seiya-starsniper 2024

[xandermatthews2290]

The Final Secrets Theory

With Chapter 2 starting back up again in about..8 hours, I’m gonna make my last prediction with the information currently available

So just taking the entire motive and murder at face value, we have 14 secrets, and if somebody isn’t dead in 4 days they are getting revealed

The logical step is then gonna be that the culprit must be among the group that still hasn’t had their secrets revealed, gonna include some visual aids

So far: Arei, Ace, Nico, Eden, David, Charles, Rose, J, Whit, and Arturo have had their secrets outed at the point we’ve left off at

that’s 10 people hypothetically out of contention, but as Rose never checked her secret, Whit actually cannot be included in that group of 10 leaving us with just Levi, Teruko, Veronika Whit, and Hu as potential culprits

Also it is worth noting that prior to the trial being started: Eden, Ace, David, and Arturo’s secrets were not public knowledge

Ace and Eden’s get revealed with very little fanfare

And one of the last points of contention, the dead students secrets, outside of Xander’s depression and potentially suicidal thoughts , the only thing we learn about Min is that she may have killed someone to earn the title of Ultimate Student

The 5 of them at the start of the case, Levi and Teruko are cooperating and reveal they got Arei and Rose’s secrets

Veronika, Levi, David, Hu, and potentially are all looking suspicious now but really what secrets are left

“You’re a murderer and you hold no remorse”

“You only took on your talent to distract from your incessant need to harm yourself for fun.”

“You were quite the hopeless child, dying once wasn’t enough, so you attempted suicide 3 times”

“How could I even select what secret to be your motive? Just about everything you’ve done in your life is worth killing for. This killing game is your fault”

The above secret was credited to Xander, however it is not clear if the dead students were included in the swap, along with another secret mentioning survivor’s guilt, however it is still possible that Levi or Hu’s family could be dead

“Your mom is dead. You always omit that truth”

So just looking at them, I’d say Teruko not being able to tell which is hers is pretty messed up.

But otherwise which of these is worth killing for? The murderer one is of course terrible, but killing someone now will just reinforce that point, this secret seems most likely to be Levi’s given the limited suspect pool, Teruko and Hu are far from emotionless though it is possible it’s Veronikas though 1 other fits her better

Only took your talent to distract yourself from self harm? The most popular theory is that this is Veronika’s following her scene in the movie theater

Though it is possible that Hu could have this secret, Veronika is much more likely, by extension Levi is also out for this secret as we can actually see most of him, and Teruko didn’t take up her talent at all

Hopeless Child, 3 suicide attempts, I lean towards this being Hu’s out of the secrets remaining, she seems to be a bit of an outsider, going by a different name to fit in.

This could easily be Teruko’s as she openly knows she can’t die and that failed hanging attempts are extremely painful, however David has also been openly more suspicious of her this chapter so it’s most likely he has Teruko’s secret, that being her being the reason the killing game exists, likely to test the ultimate luck

The mom one is probably Whit’s, which kinda undermines the theory that he’s lying about it but really? This doesn’t fit Teruko who’s an orphan and would recognize it immediately , Veronika has never acknowledged her life outside of the academy

Looking at Levi, he isn’t close to his family at all making this secret less likely to be his, it could be Hu’s but I’d still say it’s a reach

So now onto the meat of this theory, the culprit is most likely Eden or Levi based on the information available

The motive doesn’t end at your secret being revealed and while some people have claimed that certain secrets are not worth a murder, we’ve seen Charles and Arturo do complete face turns and Arturo himself nearly slit Eden’s throat in a moment of panic

Charles nearly had a breakdown and is now questioning his entire life’s view, he might not kill for what he hears but he might kill to find out what really happened with Elliot, unlikely this chapter since he’s the most active trial investigator but Arei’s bloodless death is certainly unnerving

So take Eden’s innocuous secret: “Ever since you kissed her, you were afraid your sexuality would ruin your friendships”

her secret is basically that she is a lesbian, or bi, who am I to say. Everyone’s else’s secret dives into deep trauma and fear, their crimes, their deteriorating mental states. Not that her secret isn’t valid but it’s also extremely mild, it also could be the first time we hear of Mai Akasaki, she’s hasn’t shown up at all and her role is still unclear.

Having her be related to Eden’s secret and subsequent murder would be a way to semi-naturally introduce her to the story

Now onto Levi the other most likely culprit, he’s been shown to snap relatively easily threatening Ace’s life the first trial after just being an arrogant annoyance

So the main trigger for this was Ace calling Levi a coward something he openly isn’t able to take nearly as calmly. He also barely acknowledges Mom’s violent execution, claiming it was simply “too absurd for words”

Yeah does anybody really think that Arei could have had a talk with Levi about his secret and not have brought up something similar

it’s also why several pieces of evidence don’t seem to go anywhere, the rope under the carousel, the milk jugs, the fish

It wasn’t used for anything, Levi was strong enough to break her neck, something Eden likely wouldn’t be able to do, and strong enough to hang her with no assistance however with Xander now dead it’s important to make it seem like somebody that wasn’t jacked could have killed Arei

So it it’s with that that I conclude my last pre CH2 part 2 theory, the culprit is Eden or Levi, though I lean towards Levi as he was my first suspect when I watched it so I’m committed.

Whit is also my crackhead theory but I’m at the point where I feel the evidence stacks up nicely but still leaves a lot to desire, though I would still like to be right so here a mini theory to go with this brick of text

In the words of Charles they fucked up, Whit is somebody to not only have an alibi with Charles but to also have taken credit for a secret that can’t be validated

He also did something a fair bit more damning:

He’s the reason David went to the relaxation room, Arei does say that she snuck a peek at Whit’s secret but isn’t it also possible that Whit simply told her and coordinated their meetup that night?

He’s not overly suspicious but sometimes there’s beauty is simplicity

Now for the short wait and to hope all these theories don’t get nuked the second part 2 starts

[inkedobsidian]

~ It doesn't mean shit S.R ~

summary: While on a case an officer hits on you, even though you're with Spencer.

pairing: Spencer ReidxReader

warnings: creepy men ofc

word count: 793

a/n: Requests are open! Prompt list is there if you guys want extra ideas!

Master-List - Prompts

The doors to the disgustingly damp police department open and the whole team steps inside trying to ignore the sweat building up in places they don't appreciate. They were guided into an open room full of blank boards and a water machine. As Y/N walked over to the machine she could feel her trousers slowly start to itch at her thighs. As she grabbed a plastic cup she felt someone stood behind her, spinning around and coming face to Spencer she smiles and offers him her cup.

"Hey sweetie, how you feeling?" Spencer says taking a sip of the water he was just handed. Y/N wipes the back of her neck with her hand and cringes as she feels the disgusting amount of sweat that has built up.

"I'd be better if this room was cooler in all honesty. I feel like I'm dying is there no AC or anything here." Y/N pouts as she takes another sip of her water trying to cool down. Scanning around the room to find only her team Y/N tries to find the sheriff, once again having no luck.

"I think we'd all work better if the AC was on, just go ask one of the deputies it will be okay." Spencer kisses Y/N on the forehead as she walks out the door towards one of the deputies, as she taps them on the shoulder trying to attract his attention. As the deputy spins around he smirks as he sees Y/N stood in front of him.

"What can I do for you, pretty lady?" The deputy asks still smirking.

"I was just wondering if you guys had any AC in the room the rest of my team are in. If not do you guys have any fans?" Attempting to be polite to the creepy deputy was hard but Y/N had to be professional and she was going to start ugly sweating soon.

"Our AC is broken right now if you couldn't tell but I mean I could take you out for a drink if you would like." As the deputy placed his hand on Y/N's lower back she took a step away and politely smiled at the deputy.

"Actually I'm spoken for sorry, thanks for your help." She says pointing at Spencer and smiling at the goofy genius who is currently attempting to find a working pen, with not much luck. As he spots Y/N looking at him and he smiles and waves.

"Seriously the nerd got you? You are way out of his league." Spencer hears the deputy and frowns and as Y/N turns back to face the deputy she gives him the stare from hell. Y/N bites her tongue to stop her from saying something she probably should, it doesn't work too well.

"It is none of your concern who 'got me' deputy. Your office may have requested my team here to help with an investigation you have failed to solve, but I imagine your Sherriff would take great interest to know how his deputy talks to the agents here to help. What do you think?" As Y/N stares more and more at the deputy she could see him falling into himself more and more out of embarrassment.

As she turns around she sees Spencer has dissipated but she can see all the team looking at her and the, now very uncomfortable, deputy. As Y/N walks off to try and find Spencer she sees Aaron start to walk towards the deputy. Spencer stood in the corner of the room looking out the window not hearing Y/N enter the room.

"Spence?" Y/N says trying not to freak him out by her sudden presence.

"He's right though, you're perfect and I'm just nerdy Dr. Spencer Reid," Refusing to turn around Spencer keeps staring out the window. Y/N walks towards the broken boy stood in front of her. Someone she loved with all her heart no matter what. "I've heard plenty of people say I don't deserve you and you could do better."

"I don't care what they said, it doesn't mean shit! You are the love of my life Spencer nobody else. Excuse my language but screw what anyone else thinks. You can't see you how I do, frankly, nobody else matters to me. If I wanted them I'd leave you. I'm still stood here saying I love you. Now actually look at me!"

As soon as Spencer turned around Y/N grabbed his face and attached her lips to his. As if in slow motion Spencer let out a massive breath and let himself relax into the arms of the woman he loved. All they needed was each-other and together in perfect harmony, they were reminded of how powerful love and how much they love each other.

[nburkhardt]

Somebody Loves You, You Got A Friend. (Part 8)

Other parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

Seeing as all my current WIPs are making me mad, I nearly forgot about this. Since it’s already written out and in my notes app, I thought I should post it lol.

Quick note: a few POV changes happen, there’s a bit of plot and I kinda bash Nancy a bit. (picks up right after part 7)

Gareth watches as Eddie falls asleep and he only knows because of how relaxed his friend looks and he pulls his eyes away to find the freshmen looking so confused.

They don’t ask anything, thankfully, but they’re not at all sneaky with their glances towards Eddie. Or the completely silent conversation they have with each other.

He just hopes whatever it’s about doesn’t involve Eddie.

Eddie’s dragging the rest of the day and Gareth is about ready to explode at how dumb his friend is being, “dude, you should’ve stayed home”

“I had to take tests, that effects my final grades” he says, “I- Ms. Click fucking hates me dude”

And unfortunately, his friend is right and he has to watch as he suffers finding his work and everything else. The rest of the day is pretty boring, the only weird thing was catching Nancy Wheeler eye Eddie during their shared class. He only noticed because he’s trying and failing at not laughing at Eddie, who’s nodding off during Mr. Smith’s lecture.

Once the final bell rings, he’s trying to find Eddie since their last class isn’t shared.

He turns the corner and nearly falls on his ass, “fuck” he mumbles and looks to see the person he ran into, “dude my bad.”

Jonathan Byers nods and helps him up, “sorry, I wasn’t paying attention either”

He’s about to say something else, when he hears an all too familiar laugh. Looking around he finds Eddie with a nasty glare aimed at Nancy Wheeler, he looks at Jonathan and wordlessly they both move towards the other two.

“I don’t fucking sell shit anymore, Wheeler and it wouldn’t be any of your business if I did!”

She crossed her arms and glares up at Eddie, “but you did sell! And it is my business!”

He can just see Eddie’s anger, before anything else happens, he steps closer to his friend and quickly grabs his arm, “Eddie let’s go, cool off before you get home, yeah?”

Eddie doesn’t answer, just glares at Nancy, “it’s not your business, he told you to stay away! That means, stay away from me too.”

He doesn’t say more, simply because Gareth punches his arm and leads him back out, “dude what the fuck?”

Eddie shakes his head and makes a beeline to the van, “Nancy is a bitch, dude.”

“I noticed, who were you talking about?”

“Stevie. Nancy believes she can get him to help her with some shit. Been like this for a year now, when Stevie and I were only just starting out with our friendship” Eddie explains with a glare aimed at nothing and his hands clutching and unclutching from frustration, “When he was only a few months pregnant, there was one morning where his mom answered the door to find her standing there and wanted her to wake him up to fucking talk about whatever”

That’s, really fucking confusing to Gareth. He looks towards the school and sees Jonathan and Nancy walk out with their brothers, “didn’t Nancy break up with Steve?”

Eddie let out a near hysterical laugh, a cigarette dangling from his mouth now, “She nearly fucking broke him, actually.”

“What?”

Eddie jumps into the drivers seat, pointing a finger to his passenger seat and he doesn’t need to be told twice. Once inside the van and Eddie starts it up, “Stevie told me that she blamed him for Barb’s death and his mom told me about how she found him sobbing about it. He said Nancy called him bullshit, that their whole relationship was bullshit.”

“Fuck dude”

He’ll never be able to look at Nancy the same, “and now she’s pushing you to what?”

Eddie scruffs and turns down his street, “Fuck, I don’t even know. She came up to me demanding to know if I knew why Stevie left school or where he is, then when I wouldn’t answer, tried saying I’m a bad influence”

He laughed, “I mean you are but not like that”

“Fuck you dude” he smiles and shakes his head, “I haven’t sold anything since I found about Ellie. Wayne pulled me aside after we told him, to tell me that I needed to stop- I mean, I already was thinking it.” He shrugs, “I don’t know why Nancy would think like that”

Gareth doesn’t either and he tells this to Eddie, the van comes to a stop in front of his home, “I don’t know either, she sounds like she’s a little obsessed with Steve.”

“I know and it’s weird, right?”

The Next Day

Eddie is woken up by Eleanor’s cry and he groans, he feels Steve stir next to him and he shushes him, “stay, I’ll grab her” he gets a hum in return and he sits up before dragging himself over to her crib.

She’s kicking her legs and wiggling trying to get out of the blanket, “hey baby” he whispers to catch her attention, she blinks up at him and whines.

Smiling, he lifts her up and rocks her, “come on, cranky.” He looks over and sees Steve smiling at him, it makes his heart beat a little faster.

Steve moves up a bit and pulls his shirt off, before he can even sit down next to him. Eleanor is no longer crying, thankfully, but Steve still makes grabby hands at him.

Laughing, he hands her over and then pulls the covers back over them before wrapping his arm around Steve. They sit in silence as Eleanor drinks and Steve drops his head onto his shoulder, “I guess it’s another long day”

Laughing softly he pressed a kiss to his head, “want me to stay home?”

“Maybe? She was so fussy yesterday, Eds.” He whispers, a hand patting her back, “even mom couldn’t get her to settle”

Later on Janet finds all three of them in bed asleep, Eleanor in Steve’s arms and Steve against Eddie. She shakes her head before going over and shaking Eddie, “Honey, don’t you have school today?”

He blinks back sleep and looks up to find her standing there, “nah, I’m skipping today. Gotta help Stevie”

She smiles, nodding before placing a kiss on their foreheads, “I’ll call the school, have one of your friends pick up your schoolwork later, okay?”

He nods and she smiles before walking out of the room and he looks down to find Steve still asleep with Eleanor snuggled against him. Sighing, he relaxes back down and decides they don’t need to get up anytime soon.

Steve is humming along to the mixtape Eddie put on to fill the kitchen as they make breakfast/lunch.

It’s currently noon and Eleanor is having tummy time in the living room with Eddie, while he’s busy making breakfast sandwiches. They slept in until nearly eleven and when they made their way downstairs, Steve found a note from his mom telling them she had several appointments today.

He can hear Eddie encouraging Eleanor to move around as he makes his way towards them with their food, when the doorbell rings. Confused, he sets the plates down and goes to the front door and through the peephole finds Nancy and Jonathan.

Even more confused and a little frustrated, he opens the door with, “Isn’t today a school day? Why are you guys here?”

They both look shocked to see him, which is weird since they’re the one’s knocking on his door.

“I’ve been trying to find you!” Nancy starts with and there’s her angry determination, “you’ve been locked up in your house?!”

Jonathan just looks uncomfortable.

Raising an eyebrow at her, he shakes his head, “uh, yes? I live here. Just because we don’t run into each other doesn’t mean I left town. Just my asshole father, now you should go back to school. Isn’t this your senior year?”

“Shouldn’t you be there with us?”

Rolling his eyes, he leans against the wall. Giving the impression of indifference, “I graduated earlier this year, through a different school. Not that it concerns you, I’ve told you before, Nancy. I’m not your boyfriend, and I’m definitely not your friend.” He then looks At Jonathan then back at her, “he’s your boyfriend, now leave me alone. Leave Eddie alone while you’re at it”

Nancy narrows her eyes at him and he can just barely smell the annoyance in the air from her scent, “So you are still friends with him? Is he the reason you dropped out? Why you won’t help with the upside down?”

“I have much more important things in life,” he thinks of carrying Eleanor for nine months, holding her and feeding her, thinks of being with Eddie and the alpha holding him like he’s the whole world, “like I said before, I was there to apologize. I stepped in when you needed help, but afterwards? We were told it was over. Will was found and is fine and safe. Shouldn’t you guys be over this?”

Neither person in front of him can give him an answer because he hears Eddie shout, “Oh Stevie! The little missy and I miss you!”

He sees the confusion on their faces and before they can ask, he slams the door in their faces. Which if he’s being honest, he should’ve done sooner. He locks the door and turns around to the ones that actually deserve his attention.

He knows, Nancy won’t give up though.

~

Yikes I completely forgot how I wrote Nancy in this 🫣 oops. Please know I DO love her but she’s just a stubborn person and can’t understand that Steve’s not involved and refuses to be involved.

I can’t believe I added plot to this lol anyway, we’ll get to more slice of life again 🥰

If you see any typos or mistakes, let me know!! Also if you have any ideas that you’d like to see, send me an ask or message! Same goes for if you want to be added to the tag list!

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