#distressed about the whole damn thing. Boys…

[ziracona]

Obsessed with the way Two-Face talks about Harvey in the Arkham games like do I like all the choices? Not at all. Is the “Harvey might feel bad about this Batman, but we'll bring him around,” line alone rotating in my head since I saw it and one of the pillars of how I see and write Two-Face? Ye baby.

[sectumsempraaa]

Send Him My Regards

Pairing: fem!reader x idk they’re all in love with you LOL, but Draco's down bad

Summary: You aren’t one to provoke the aggressive nature of your closest friend group (a bunch of reckless Slytherin boys) but when the new hire at your favorite bookstore makes you uncomfortable, you’re forced to ask for their… “help.”

Word Count: 2.5k

Featuring: The whole damn crew. Draco, Theo, Mattheo, Pansy, Blaise, Lorenzo

TW: Implied non-consensual touching/comments, implied violence, panic/mental distress, cursing, disgustingly fluffy

Notes: This is based on something I recently experienced, as many of you have, too. I tried my best to convey my very real thoughts on this matter. Avoiding threatening men is a constant, everyday struggle. If you can relate, this is for you.

“Love, you already own every book in the world.” Draco proclaims, staggering behind you with his pack of Slytherin watch dogs.

Whenever you go anywhere as a group, they always let you lead so they can keep an eye on your surroundings. You think it’s silly, but it’s their thing, and you secretly appreciate the protection, so you let them be. It makes them feel important, and you find it endearing.

“I most certainly do not! Only like… two hundred.” You respond, muttering the number under your breath.

“Then I’ll buy you every book in the world. Must we come here every weekend?” he groans. Of course, Mattheo interrupts, shooting Draco a furrowed brow.

“Mate, for the love of god, either stop coming on these trips, or use some of that fancy cash you love to go on about to take us elsewhere. Pick one.” Mattheo sneers. Naturally, he’s carrying your bag and coat, making sure you never lift a finger. His response earns a smirk from you.

You’re not really listening though, more so taking in the beauty of Hogsmeade. You love escaping the castle for the little town on perfect, brisk days like this one, hitting everyone’s favorite shops and downing a couple of butterbeers.

The boys continue arguing in the background as you make your way down the cobblestone street, your hair blowing softly in the chill of the November breeze. Blaise and Theo share an eye roll with each other before coming to your side, leaving the two to bicker as they trail behind. Theo steps in, heaving a dramatic sigh and throwing an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him. His words drip with that rich Italian accent.

“Ignore them, bella. We’ll wait for you outside.” You smile at him and he gives you a wink. A man of few words, but oozing with charm. He will occasionally act as a grounding force when the others get rowdy. You hear Draco drag on about how he “earned” his money or whatever.

“Oh wow, a real rags to riches story!” Mattheo shouts, lunging at Draco. You shake your head laughing with Blaise, sending you a look that reads as “I’ll take care of them.” You enter the bookshop, making the bell ring as the door opens.

The first thing you notice is the shiny new display of fantasy books you’ve been dying to get your hands on. You make your way towards it, not being able to contain the thrill on your face. You’ve been waiting for this series to restock and here they are, all of them, ready to be yours. You touch the smooth covers, tracing your fingers over the author’s name on each one.

The second thing you notice is… him. Your heart drops as your sheer excitement instantly morphs into dread.

Please, not again. 

The new hire at this bookstore has ruined the last couple of trips for you. You were hoping he would stop working weekends but… there he is. And he eyes you right away, like you’re on his radar.

The first time you came in, it was the comments. Calling you pet names, pointing out his favorite features on you, and it was relentless. You somehow got through it and attempted to shake it off, praying he would quit or just get fired before your next trip.

The second time, it was the touching. Brushing against your back when trying to “get through”, his hand grabbing your arm too tightly while he led you down an aisle. You tripped on your way out while trying to make a swift escape, and of course he was there to “catch you”, only giving him an excuse to grip both hands around your waist, hesitant to release you.

Your eyes go between the book display and his movements as he starts creeping his way out from behind the counter. You have to make a split-second decision to either stay and endure, or leave safely and empty handed. It pains you but your nerves heighten as he gets closer. Panic sets in as colors blur and sounds become muffled. Your brain and your body and your heart scream together in unison: “danger.”

You burst through the door back outside with a speed and force that could only be conjured by your anxiety. Facing the door, you stumble backwards and let out a gasp when you land in someone’s familiar arms. You recognize the brown suede material of Theo’s jacket as you attempt to catch your breath. It seems no amount of oxygen could suffice at the moment.

“Bella, bella, what’s wrong?” He asks urgently, hoisting you back up to your feet. The others notice the incident and immediately stride their way over. Draco, always leading the pack, puts his hands on your shoulders and lowers his eyes to your level.

“Hey, look at me,” he coos, forcing you out of your episode. He speaks with a tenderness that is almost heartbreaking. “What happened, love? Are you quite alright?”

There’s too many thoughts and feelings swimming around in your head to give an honest answer. Everything is moving in slow motion and you need time to regroup. Swallowing your fear, you decide to lie, at least for now. The last thing you want to do is impulsively encourage their hostility.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you respond, avoiding his gaze. He looks at you, deciding whether to believe you. “Really, I am.” You add. He glances down to your empty hands.

“You left without a book. You always buy a book.” He says, speaking with suspicion in his voice. The others stay back, knowing when to give Draco his space. They all adore you, but Draco would do things you’d rather not think about in order to keep you happy and safe. And he has. It’s been like this since you can remember. 

“Just didn’t have what I wanted, is all.” You explained. The doubt on his face is evident. He speaks just above a whisper.

“Y/N, you know we would take care of anyone that so much as breathes near you wrong, yeah? It’s important to me that you know this.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Mattheo ditching his cigarette and cracking his knuckles. You give a small nod and a shrug, releasing yourself from his hands and walking back in the direction of the castle. Your head is still reeling, but not enough to block out the boys’ debriefing behind you.

First, Mattheo. “She rarely ever gets like that.”

Then Theo. “Only when she panics.” And Blaise. “Her face was almost as pale as Malfoy’s.”

And Draco, but with a tinge of hurt in his voice. “She barely looked at me.” He glances in your direction, contemplating. “Give her time. We’ll look after her tonight. Someone tell Pansy.”

The rest you don’t hear, feeling embarrassment creeping in. You wish they’d just let it go and forget about it, cowering from the attention it’s bringing to you. Your pace quickens as the heat spreads across your cheeks, eager to be alone in your hideout at the castle.

Too focused on your path, you slam into someone’s chest as they’re coming out of the bakery you’re passing.

“Ugh, Lorenzo, I’m so sorry,” you say frantically, smoothing out his jacket and moving past him, never meeting his gaze. His face contorts with confusion and concern. He watches you take off then turns back to the group.

“Something off with that one...” The boys give him a knowing look.

“No shit, Berkshire.” Mattheo sneers.

—

After what felt like an eternity, you had reached the castle and darted to your hideout: a corner balcony high up in one of the towers facing the pitch. Leaning your elbows on the edge of the balcony, you watch the sun slowly descend into its eventual bed of twilight. Then, the spiraling begins.

Thinking back, you’ve never really dealt with something like this because of who your friends were. No one dared to even step too close to you, aware of what the consequences would be. But you weren’t on school grounds this time. You felt… unprepared. Lost. Violated. Guilty.

Does running away make me weak?

Why can’t I stand up for myself?

How did he gain control so quickly?

Did I ask for it? Did I do something wrong?

This is too much. It feels ridiculous and quite frankly enraging that you considered this being your fault. The stress is exhausting.

You let yourself relax, laying down on a stone bench and staring up at the black night sky. You start to mentally identify the stars in view, something Draco taught you to do when you’d get anxious. It always worked, as evident by the many hours you fell asleep. Upon awakening, you gasp as your watch reads 1AM.

You hear footsteps rustling around nearby, and echoing voices calling your name. Shit. They’re looking for me.

Sneaking around corners, you tiptoe around, trying not to get yourself noticed. Maybe, just maybe you can get back to the dungeons without getting caught. Until you hear the voice of your best friend, who admittedly, you could really use right now.

“Pans?” You whisper, catching a glimpse of her shadow down the corridor. Her head whips around before running to you urgently.

“Where the hell have you been?! The boys are going mad looking for-” She stops abruptly when you force yourself into her arms, hugging her tight and burying your face in her shoulder. Her tone softens to that of an older sister. “Oh, Y/N,” She rubs your back while your eyes well up.

“Fuck, Pans, I don’t know what to do.” You say through subtle sobs, holding back as much as you can for her sake. She looks at you with a questioning look before your words stumble out, caked in distress.

“There’s a boy at the bookstore, MY bookstore, and-and, and he’s there all the time now, following me around, and…”

“Y/N, calm down. You’re okay. It’s just me, sweetie.” She says, running a hand through your hair as her eyes shift to someone behind you; their voice deep, slow, and filled with angst.

“There’s… a… what?” He asks, the voice you recognize as Draco’s ringing off the walls. Mattheo, Theo, and Blaise walk into frame behind him when they realize he found you. The sight of them strikes you; your fiercely loyal group of friends that would go to the ends of the earth for you. To your surprise, you are relieved to see them.

But their anger is palpable. Draco’s jaws clenched tight. Theo’s heavy eyes claiming the darkness. Blaise’s hands rolled into fists. Lorenzo steps forward, eyes soft, holding out a gentle hand. 

“Let’s get you to the common room, and you can tell us-” he turns to the other boys before emphasizing his next words, “-what you’re comfortable with, if you want to talk at all.”

You nod in agreement, taking his hand while Pansy takes your other one. In your head, you’re thanking whatever higher power put Lorenzo on this planet. The voice of reason amidst all chaos.

—

It’s nearly 2AM now. You’re sat on the common room couch in front of the blazing fireplace under a mess of blankets, warming up after your frigid nap. Theo on your left, Lorenzo on your right holding your tea, Draco and Mattheo sitting on the coffee table facing you, with Blaise and Pansy on the floor. All with mixed looks of curiosity, empathy, and sheer rage.

After thinking it over, you decided to prioritize yourself for once. A lot of people don’t realize how hard a decision that can be. This is a risky favor to ask for. But there’s only a couple truly precious things in the world you can’t live without, and this is one of them. You want your fucking bookstore back.

So, you tell them. Everything.

As you recall the events of the last few weeks, you feel the air become tense. Blaise looks like he’s about to combust. Theo reaches for your hand, letting you fiddle with the bracelet on his wrist. You hear Pansy call this boy every name in the book under her breath, your favorite being “bastardly filth”. Draco and Mattheo listen, periodically looking at each other with knowing stares, having their own wordless conversation. You know those looks. Plotting looks.

When you finish, you’re briefly met with silence, temporarily paralyzing you. Do they believe me?

You break the stillness. “I suppose I’m making a big deal out of something quite trivial.” You say to them, diminishing your story, and for what?

Mattheo stands up, ushering Blaise and Pansy out of the way as he kneels in front of you. He rests a comforting hand on your knee, his eyes glowing with brutal honesty.

“It’s really very simple, little dove. You’re in danger, we take down the threat. I can assure you we all agree that your safety is anything but trivial.” He states. He gives your knee a squeeze. “Gonna be honest though, Y/N. It’s going to be ugly for him when he meets us.”

You look up to Draco, who’s been oddly quiet since you all got back. You hold his gaze as you respond.

“Good. Send him my regards.” You reply, earning a wicked grin from him, his eyes suddenly crinkled and brimming with pride. Everyone shifts a bit in their seats, wrapping up the late night discussion.

Draco strides over to you, taking the teacup from your hands and setting it down on a side table. He looks so handsome like this, facing you on the couch with his hair disheveled and the top of his shirt buttons undone. The glow from the fire accenting his features, so sharp yet yearning for sleep. He takes your face in his warm hands.

“I need you to hear me right now. Listening?” he asks. You give an unconvincing nod as his thumb caresses your cheek. Yes, but damn you make it hard to.

His stare intensifies, pulling you from your trance and forcing you to dial in to his statement.

“Never feel bad for wanting them to pay for the pain and discomfort they inflict on you. Their reasons were senseless, yours are justified.”

For the first time tonight, just for a moment, you feel sure of yourself. You wrap your arms around him, pulling yourself closer, his body becoming your safe haven. His hands nestle you to his chest as you feel him place a kiss on the top of your head.

He loves you and you know it. He’ll wait for this to pass, for things to be right. He’ll wait for you to feel whole and secure again. And he’ll do whatever it takes to help you get you there, even if that means giving you space.

As Pansy sees the two of you off to bed, you repeat his sentiment to her. “My god, that bloody boy is down bad, and I mean bad, for you Y/N.”

Ascending the staircase to your dorm, you faintly hear Draco informing the boys of the plan.

“Tomorrow. Noon.” He demands. The boys nod. He pauses before adding another instruction.

“Oh, and we’re gonna need a bag. We’ve got books to bring home.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 1

Or: a secret Admirer AU

Less than a month into the school year, and Steve’s already making use of the library. If Mrs. Click could see him now, she’d be proud–until she caught sight of the blank notebook page in front of him and the lack of textbooks on the table. 

He feels stupid; he’s hunched over his notebook, trying to make his thoughts transfer onto the page in any coherent form. But, he’s not like Eddie with his impassioned speeches and clever English papers.

Words flow through Eddie in fully-formed, concrete ideas. For Steve, it’s more of a drip. Each word has to be scaffolded onto the previous one with blood, sweat, and tears. Even then, it’s never quite right. Too abrupt, never what he was actually trying to say.

He’s just never been good with words.

By the time he gives up, there’s more crossed out than left written, so he gets a clean page of paper and transcribes it as best he can. He’s left with:

       Your hair is pretty. Do you use conditioner?

Steve tears it from his notebook and lays it flat atop his table in the library, smoothing out any crinkles in the page. It feels like the start to something, sure, but there’s more blank space on the page than words. By a lot.

He leans back over his work, adds a little wonky heart in his blue pen and signs the whole thing—

       ❤ your secret admirer

—the way all the girls who leave notes in his locker do. Their notes are usually on pretty paper, written in sparkly gel pen that smells like strawberries. The i’s are sometimes dotted with little hearts he’ll never admit to finding cute. And there’s envelopes involved, and usually more than eleven measly words.

His looks like something Eddie’ll toss out before opening, mistaking it for trash.

Steve grimaces. How do girls do this? Do they all take some sort of class on how to write pretty letters on pretty enough paper that boys will fall in love with them? Is that what they teach in Home Ec? He should have never let Tommy mock him into switching to shop class.

Should he ask a girl?

Under no conditions will he ever ask Carol. She’d have far too many uncomfortable questions and tell the whole school all of his embarrassing answers. He’d be run out of town within days, Carol holding the sharpest pitchfork.

Steve leans back in his chair with a groan too loud for the library and fists his hands to rub tired eyes.

“Are you okay?” Steve jerks, sending his pen and paper careening to the ground in his attempt to cover the compromising words upon the page. “Oh, sorry!”

Steve watches, horrified, as Chrissy Cunningham bends down to pick his supplies up off the carpet before he’s had time to scramble out of his chair. She’s in her cheer uniform, white zip-up Hawkins hoodie covering her arms. She looks perfect and preppy and just like all the girls who’ve ever left a note in his locker.

She’d be able to write something that Eddie would want to read.

“Steve?” Chrissy’s hovering over him, lips pursed, eyes big and worried. “Are you okay?”

“Shit, sorry,” he replies. She’s got his note clutched to her chest. He curls his fingers against the urge to reach out for it—that’ll just draw her attention, and that’s the last thing Steve wants right now. “Just got lost in my head.”

“Anything I can help with?”

He knows what she’s going to do before it happens. Chrissy’s sweet—if there’s a way to help, she’ll want to. So, she holds out the paper and begins to read, probably expecting an assignment she can tutor him on, and there they are: Steve’s damning words written in still-wet blue ink.

Her brow furrows as she takes an obscene amount of time mouthing out the words before she looks back up to meet his eyes. “Did someone give this to you?”

Her eyes are still big, but they look sad now, like just the thought of someone receiving the note he’d slaved over is enough to distress her. Unable to help himself, Steve snatches it from her hands and crumples it into a ball, damning words hidden in his fist.

Chrissy gasps at his abrupt movement and takes a halting step away.

“I wrote it,” he mutters, no longer able to meet her eyes.

She’s silent for long enough that he’d think she left, except the library’s quiet, and he hasn’t heard her take a step. He stares at the grains of the wood in the table, empty hand rubbing against the smudged top as he waits for her to do something.

“Are you…” she starts, trailing off for a moment before picking her thought back up, “…picking on someone?”

Steve clenches his fist tighter, note crinkling beyond repair beneath his nails as he mutters, “no.”

Chrissy’s quiet again. Steve doesn’t dare to look up, even as he hears the chair across from him pull out, the sound of her weight settling into the wood. The table’s just so interesting. Nothing has ever been as intriguing as the little chip out of its edge, the ring on the wood where someone had let their drink condensate against all the library’s rules.

“Who’s this for?” Chrissy’s voice is soft now, like he’s some sort of horse, prone to bolting when spooked. “Steve?”

Steve looks up. Her eyes aren’t sad anymore; they’re piercing.

He’s always liked Chrissy. She’s the nicest girl in the school, until someone does something she doesn’t like. Then, it’s all disappointed eyes, and pouty lips. It’s like disappointing his Mom, but worse, because his Mom’s never around to stare balefully at him.

The point is, Chrissy’s nice. She’s not like Carol. If he told her, there would be no lynch mob, or fleeing Hawkins in the dead of the night with nothing but the clothes on his back. Probably. Maybe.

Steve tries to smooth out the page, and scowls down at it when the wrinkles refuse to disappear. It’s even worse now, words made illegible by the deep creases his fingers have pressed into the paper. There’s no way Eddie’d ever want a note like this.

So, he says, “Munson,” looking up to try to watch his meaning land on her face.

It doesn’t. Her foreheads all scrunched up as she looks down at the note. Only then does Steve realize he’s caressing the wonky little heart. He pulls his hand back, curling his fingers in so she can’t see the smudge of blue on his pointer finger.

“And you aren’t making fun of him?”

Steve can feel his shoulders drooping. He wants to disappear into the floor, melt into the carpet and become one with all the other mysterious stains upon it. “No.”

“Oh,” Chrissy replies, drawn out and low as she peers down at the crinkled note with a confused frown. But something must click because she straightens, eyes wide beneath her bangs. “Oh!”

It’s loud enough that they both reflexively flinch. But, when no librarians come skulking around any corners, Chrissy turns back to him, gaze uncomfortably intent. Steve wonders, somewhat horrified by the turn his life has taken, if he’s about to get hate-crimed by a cheerleader half his size.

But Chrissy’s nice—always has been, always will be. So, she bites her lip and looks furtively around like she’s only just realized this is a conversation that shouldn’t have any witnesses. “But you like him?” she whispers.

Steve leans forward, matching her energy and pitch as he replies, “yeah,” quiet enough that it’s barely a breath. Chrissy smiles at him, warm and small, just like her hand as she reaches across the table to put it over his and squeeze comfortingly.

The note sits, damningly soiled beneath their linked hands, wrinkled, and smudged, and barely-legible handwriting. The weight that’d lifted with Chrissy’s smile sinks back into his gut.

“But it doesn’t matter,” Steve says, letting go of her hand so he can pull the note closer to himself. “I’m no good at this stuff.”

Steve crinkles the note back up. It’s unsalvageable—a stupid idea executed badly.

He’s in the middle of stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans to keep his keys company until he can toss it out in the comfort of his home when Chrissy says, “maybe I can help?” voice lilting up, like it’s a question.

Steve meets her eyes, hand still half-shoved in his pocket. She’s all earnest now, the way she usually is when there isn’t a sad boy infecting her with his own ineptitude. Eyes shining with conviction, bangs curling sweetly around her face. She’s no Carol, that’s for sure.

“How?” he asks, and when she smiles, it looks a bit like hope.

***

 “I can help you write a better letter,” Chrissy starts. He perks up like a dog the moment its owner gets home. “If you do something for me.”

She feels like scum when he curls back into himself, gaze forlorn.

When she’d caught sight of the note he’d spent what seemed like a full hour pouring over, this isn’t what she’d been expecting. And when she’d finally made out his chicken scratch scrawl, she’d been sure Steve was picking on someone, no matter how unlike him it would have been. But then his shoulders had curled in, and his ears had turned red, and his voice had gone all soft and squishy when he’d said Eddie Munson’s name.

And she’d just wanted to fix it.

So, even as he asks, “what?” all sad and droopy again, she knows she’s going to help him, no matter what he says.

“Date me,” she asserts. It’s only as Steve blinks stupidly at her that she realizes how that came out of her mouth. “No, wait, not really!”

Her hands are waving around wildly and she can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. In contrast, Steve seems to come back into himself, shoulders shoring up as he smirks across at her with his signature raised brow. The one he’d used while leaning on Nancy Wheeler’s locker last year, or holding her books as they walked to class, and all the other assortment of stereotypical boyfriend activities.

He’d worn it all the time, like it was part of the uniform. 

“I just meant, we could fake it?” His right eyebrow raises to meet his left, forehead scrunching up with his incredulity. “It’s just, Jason and I broke up? And he won’t leave me alone.”

It takes all her strength to keep meeting his eyes as the seconds tick away. But then Steve nods, swings his letterman jacket off, and tosses it across at her. Unprepared for his sudden movement, it hits her in the face and drops into her lap.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he says with a cheesy wink that somehow manages to feel more genuine than any of his actual flirting techniques. “Gotta sell it somehow.”

“What a romantic,” she replies, deadpan, but she pulls his jacket on anyway, something that feels an awful lot like relief steadying her heart rate as she smooths down the too-long sleeves.

Jason’s going to freak out. But after that, maybe he’ll stop calling her house, and trying to put his arm around her at lunch, and trying to pick her up for school every morning. She’d do almost anything to get it into his thick skull that she’s not interested.

So, here she is, hashing out the details of a secret admirer letter from Steve Harrington to Eddie Munson, of all the unlikely pairings.

“What’s wrong with what I wrote?” Steve whines, running his fingers through his hair until it’s all mussed up and falling into his face.

Chrissy snorts. “It sounds like you’re telling him his hair is frizzy and dry.”

“I said it was pretty!” He throws his hands in the air before crossing them and pouting his lower lip out.

Chrissy can’t help but laugh. She’s always liked Steve. He’s nicer than most of his friends, and he’s easy to talk to. But this is a side she’s never seen of him. She’s not sure anyone has; can’t imagine Carol or Tommy seeing him put his whole heart into something and not tearing it to shreds.

“Do you use conditioner?” she asks, throwing finger quotations around it as she reads it off the crumpled page.

Steve’s blushing again, cheeks all blotchy and red, rather unbecoming for the shoo-in for this year’s prom king. “Well, I thought you said you’d help!” he says, a little too loud for the library.

So, that’s how she ends up spending the next hour painfully turning Steve’s earnest thoughts into words on the pretty baby blue paper she’d carefully removed from the back of her daily planner.

In the end, they’re left with this:

       Eddie –

       I wish I could say this to your face, but I’ve never been good with words, and you’d probably think it was a joke.

       I can’t even get myself to talk to you, you’re so distracting.

       I like how pretty your hair is. How do you get your curls so shiny? I want to run my fingers through them.

       I hope this note brightens up your day. You deserve all the smiles you can get.

       Yours,

       Your Secret Admirer

It’s not what she would write, but still, it’s leagues better than what he’d started with. She slides it across to Steve, and he smiles down at it. He reaches his hand out, fingers almost brushing the page before he pulls his hand back, curling his fingers into a fist.

“What if someone sees me?” he asks, voice so quiet she can barely hear him even in the resounding silence of the library.

They’d managed not to talk about it, the dangers of Steve liking a boy. But it’d been present in the hesitancy by which he shared each of his thoughts, looking up at her like each remark would be the last straw before she recoils in disgust.

If someone finds out that Steve has a crush on a boy, it won’t take long until he’s getting beat up between classes or heckled straight out of school. Heck, even with all the rumors floating around about him, Eddie might be the one to throw the first punch.

“Do you want me to deliver it for you?” she asks.

“You’d do that?” he asks back, because apparently no one ever taught him not to answer a question with a question. “For me?”

“What else are fake girlfriends for?” she asks because they’re all questions now, no answers to be had between the pair of them.

Steve laughs, all tension leaving his shoulders as he throws his head back with amusement, eyes downright twinkling as he beams across at her.

“You’re the best, Chrissy,” Steve says, smiling even brighter as she replies, “I know.”

She leaves school that night after pushing Steve Harrington’s love note through the slats of Eddie’s locker, Steve’s letterman jacket keeping her warm from the cold.

This might be the best relationship she’s ever had, fake or not. Eat your heart out, Jason Carver.

PART 2

Welcome to my new AU! This will be posted in 21 parts. It is complete, so there will be a new update each morning until it's all posted. I've elected not to do a tag list, but it will be added to my pinned post each day as well. If that's not your speed, it will be added to Ao3 once it's all been posted here.

Special shoutout to @queenie-ofthe-void for not only their usual fabulous beta work, but also both the original idea and the writing of some of the secret admirer letters. You not only make me a better writer, but this work literally would not exist without you. <3<3

Title of the fic from the song Eyes in the Sun by Florist

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

BNHA Boys: 1st Time Noncon

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

Boys -> Hawks + Dabi + Bakugo

Warnings at each part (but the title is quite explicit, right?) + NSFW Link (be careful + on twitter (you need a account to see)

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback + Gimme ideas

–

Hawks

-> Manipulation

Keigo is a cunning guy, always looking out for a way to get things done his way. He’s used to tricking people, using his tactics to reach his desired goals. But honestly? You have to be the biggest chump he’s ever met in his life. 

Did you actually believe when he deeply sighed and pretended to relent to your begging, just before meekly offering you to walk away from him?

Did your ingenuous self really trust him when Keigo swore on his hero honor - what honor really? - that he’d let you go home, safe and sound?

But the reality is that you fell for it, like a bee attracted to honey. It’s moments like those that Keigo acknowledges how naive and kind-hearted you are. Too cute and good for this twisted, cruel world. 

So that’s why a minor part of him is almost satisfied at the reluctance and doubt that shades your pretty face when he tells you the inflated price for your freedom.  

You clearly don’t want to sleep with him. Your attempts to bargain are immediately turned down and it takes less than five minutes for you to crumble down. 

Keigo almost feels bad at your distressed teary face. But hey, a win is a win.

You try to relax when he starts kissing and touching you. To be calm when he slowly starts making love to you.

But it feels so dead wrong and the overwhelming realization that Hawks was lying about letting you go finally hits you like a brick and you try to push him away, pointlessly make him get off from you. 

But no point in that cause Keigo isn’t gonna let you go anywhere. 

“Deal’s off, babe. I mean, I was willing to let you go and all, but since you ruined the whole mood…there was no need to fight me, ya know? I wasn’t forcing you into anything, was I? But since you broke your promise, I suppose I’m gonna have to keep you here with me.”

(VISUAL)

Dabi

-> Noncon

Dabi isn’t one to shy away from what he wants.

He takes what he wants, when he wants and how he wants and you don’t get any say in it. 

So, if for a moment you actually believed you could argue or convince the black-haired villain to leave you alone, then you’re not up for a great start with him. 

Dabi doesn’t care when you start crying, spirit battered over the small burns he gives you for trying to fight back. He doesn’t care for your wails of pain when he fucks you in the way he wants to. 

Dabi is sadistic like that, he actually enjoys the terror that floods your entire face when he explains in extensive detail all the scary lustful needs he wants to fulfill by using you. 

He’s definitely one to use tight ropes to bend you in uncomfortable positions when fucking you - just because they allow him better access and less struggle from you.

Doesn’t give a crap about your wellbeing or if you get to cum, those are unnecessary thoughts for him. 

As long as Dabi gets to end his night with a few orgasms, he’s good. 

“Oh sweetheart, there’s no point in begging. That’s not gonna change my mind. And can you even blame me? Just look at you, such a pretty body you have. You’re just too tempting to let go and trust me, I’m not planning to.”

(VISUAL)

Bakugo

-> Forced Oral - (male receiving)

Bakugo has mild-anger issues and everyone knows that so, if anything, it was entirely your fault for provoking the anger out of him. 

You saw an opportunity to try an escape and you took it, even though it was meant to fail miserably.

Bakugo ends up wrestling you back inside the house, tightly clutching your hair as he angrily shouts at how much of an ungrateful brat you are.

He’s so damn pissed that you almost got away that he can’t control himself. All the adrenaline and anger mixing up in his blood and all he wants is to teach you a proper lesson. Scare you into submission. Make sure that you’ll never act up again.

His hands are cruel as he roughs you up a bit, ignoring your scared shrieks. 

But the real punishment is the way he fucks your mouth.

His pace is so insanely fast, demanding and brutal, and he carries on without caring for the numerous times you gag and choke around his length, unable to pull away because of the vice grip he has on your scalp.

The way he facefucks you is humiliating and brutal, and the cherry on top of the cake is when Bakugo shoots his sticky cum all over your face before leaving you bruised up and with a hurting throat.

Afterwards, Bakugo might feel a bit bad because that’s definitely not how he planned your first time doing something intimate together, but on the bright side - you get much more obedient and calm towards him. 

“The hell you giving me that pathetic look for, huh. You fuckin’ deserved that and you know that. Had you not acted all lunatic and none of this would’ve happened.”

(VISUAL)

[chaoticbardlady99]

Nobody's Fool (Astarion x GN! AFAB! Reader) Part 5, MDNI 18+

Synopsis: Finally out of the Underdark, the group takes a rest day. You and Astarion go swimming. Astarion shows you his scars. "No shoes, no shirt, no service" ends up working out pretty well for you.

CW: SMUT, virginity loss (not glorified), PiV, Oral (F! Receiving), Dead Dove

*can be read independently

Author Note: Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for all the love and support!

Part 4: Part 6 : Master list

 You could not be more grateful to be out of the Underdark and away from Minotaurs or to have a true rest day. 

On the other hand, you are borderline loopy if you are being entirely honest with yourself. Your entire body feels excruciatingly heavy and you kind of just want to sleep. 

 It’s been a really long and difficult trip. You are over it- mostly because you really don’t want to go to the crèche. Shadowheart and Lae’zel have been like two toddlers throwing tantrums back and forth regarding the whole thing and at one point you lost your marbles.

“You!” You pointed at Shadowheart, “STOP BEING A RACIST JACKASS!

 You turned to Lae’zel, “AND YOU! Stop threatening her with a good time!”

 You and Astarion went on the hunt for Blackberries. It was initially just you going, but he asked if he could go with. He was rather shy about the whole thing and you are still trying to figure out what his feelings towards you are- which is also very confusing and tiring.

  A hand wraps around your bicep, interrupting your thoughts, and Astarion just barely pulls you before you walk off a larger rock and go tumbling to the ground.

 The only one who has taken any real notice in your emotional distress is Astarion, but you don’t know he realizes that and that he is very hyper aware of your needs and potential stressors. It’s part survival technique and also part absolute obsession with how wonderful you are. He feels like a giddy school boy and it’s weird. 

“Darling,” he scolds you, “why didn’t you say you were dangerously tired?”

“I’m fine,” you fib, not wanting to inconvenience him with worry.. 

 Astarion rolls his eyes and takes his bow and arrow off his back. He straps them to you before guiding you up a rock. 

“Well?” He asks with a shrug.

 It takes you a moment and you blush extremely hard. You can’t keep doing this to yourself- it’s getting pathetic. 

“I am fine, really, I -“

“Says the person who damn near walked straight off the cliff,” he chastises you again, “besides, I drank our last elixir of giant hill strength so I might as well put it to use.”

 You eventually agree and you are grateful that he carries you on his back with ease. You wear mostly light armor- preferring to be able to move swiftly to support healing your companions or fellow selunite’s. 

 Astarion smells like his cologne with a hint of salt. You can hear his barely existing pulse thrumming through his skin. Sometimes it’s odd to realize your blood is what runs through his veins right now. 

 It feels oddly intimate and dare you say… special? 

 You had woken up this morning to a very frustrated Astarion. He had reported that his hunt didn’t go well so you offered your neck. 

  Astarion hasn’t fed from you in a while so when his teeth broke skin- he had to be very mindful of his every action. You, on the other hand, were fighting off the faint moans that you refuse to let escape your lips while he feeds.

 You have no desire to sexualize him- it’s the intimacy of the act itself. Nothing more, nothing less. You haven’t been touched in a while and you haven’t touched someone in a while- not in that way anyway.

 Your hands had tangled in his hair and you were about to let him bleed you dry. He thankfully had enough restraint for both of you. 

 You thought everything was black and white- unrequited love at its finest. 

 The kiss is confusing and you keep trying to convince yourself it’s merely because he was caught up in the heat of the moment or you imagined it. The proximity isn’t helping and all you want is to do it again.

“Star?” You murmur.

 Astarion perks his ears up, “hm?” 

 “I need a nap.”

 He rolls his eyes and smiles, “well, maybe someone wouldn’t be so sleepy if someone asked for help every once in a while.”

 “I-I… ask for help,” your voice going from indignant to a grumble. 

 “You are disgustingly selfless,” he remarks, “you should do something for yourself for once.”

 “Like what!?” You exclaim, “should I try mushrooms again? Is this what you are suggesting?”

“Absolutely not,” he tsks, “I prefer when there is a smile on that lovely face of yours and I saw far more of your frown than your smile during that whole debacAle.” 

 You are so grateful he can’t see you blush like a schoolgirl right now. You wouldn’t be able to explain yourself. 

 You look around in the environment and try to come up with something fun you can do to fill your cup- which, surprisingly enough- you do so rather quickly. 

“What if we went to that waterfall?” You offer, “the water was clear and the area was cool. It would be a great way to cool off.”

“You mean the water down the insanely large cliff?” 

  You nod and are suddenly being put down- Astarion puts both hands on his hips and leers at you- then shrugs.

“Fine, but no falling or drowning- please. I don’t need oxygen, but I have no idea if I can swim or not. “

 Your original excitement wanes and turns into a different kind of excitement entirely. You cast Feather Fall and are quickly leaping over the side of the cliff- you love your silly flying magic- both flying and feather fall. You are one of the few clerics you know that actually knows how to cast fly, but you typically prefer to use a potion to avoid having to concentrate on it. You have fallen a few times before because you forgot to keep focusing. 

 Before you know it, you have dragged him towards the shallow part of the pool of water below the waterfall. Astarion looks like he may be sick, but you are certain you can teach him how to swim if he doesn’t know how to. 

 However, what you didn’t think about was the lack of swimwear. 

 It can’t possibly be that big of a deal. You are both perfectly mature adults and it’s not like seeing your friend in his underwear is that weird.

 Sure he kissed you, but he hasn’t said anything else since or tried again. It was probably an accident- even after everything he said. You know he isn’t someone to shy away from what he wants.

Besides, you try to see this as a positive rather than the excruciating negative it actually is, he isn’t even attracted to you so you don’t even have to worry about how you look! Your hair can get as mussy as it needs to be!

 You begin to get rid of your armor and Astarion almost seems to get taller suddenly- you look over and raise an eyebrow at the obviously shell shocked man.

“What? You can’t swim in your armor- you would be stuck at the bottom,” you exclaim as if the man in front of you is gawking because you are using common logic, “and I would drown- which I certainly do not want to do.”

 He blinks several times- almost too fast to be human, if you are being entirely honest with yourself, before he snaps out of it and puts on his usual confident smirk.

“I am glad we can agree on something for once,” he teases, you don’t notice the amount of effort he is putting in to not looking further from your face, “but if you wouldn’t mind turning around while I strip into my un-“

“Oh! Duh!” You feel wildly embarrassed, “I am so sorry- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Gods I didn’t even think about that before I began- I will do better next time.”

 Flustered, you turn around and slowly submerge yourself in the water to get used to the coolness of it. It’s significantly colder than the water near Emerald Grove and you really miss it. You really liked the weird harpy beach (after the Harpy’s were removed) and the sand had been soft. 

 Maybe you should travel back some time. You are certain Karlach would be absolutely thrilled to go back after her and Wyll had their “epic cannonball” competition. Gale had cast feather fall, but it still didn’t stop the belly flop Wyll performed to hurt any less.

 That was a fun day, you think to yourself, I wish Astarion had been there, but still. I think these are the first people I feel like I belong around. 

 You smile to yourself and take a deep breath. 

 You are very proud of yourself for stepping up- you feel eons away from the person who woke up on the Nautiloid and significantly more confident in yourself. 

 You are a smart, funny, and charming individual. You are someone worthy of love and you are grateful to have boat loads of it now. 

  The water splashes from behind you and you wait for several moments. You begin to feel a bit worried when there is some silence and then teeth chattering begins. 

 You turn and Astarion is hugging himself- leering at you with his lips set in a pout.

“It is MISERABLE IN HERE!” 

 You giggle and cast a warming cantrip that Gale taught you. The water becomes significantly more comfortable, but Astarion still groans and complains. 

“What if I just watched you swim?”

 “That would be weird, Astarion.”

“Is it?” He questions, “mothers and fathers watch their children swim and don’t join them all the time- if my memory serves me correctly.”

“Are you saying you’re my mom?” You snort and relish in the way his entire face turns pink- his ears especially.

“I- NO!” You have never seen him this flabbergasted before, “I have no desire to be your mother.” 

“Oh, so you are my dad then?”

“Ye- NO!” 

 You throw your head back with mirth and laughter. It’s fun on the rare occasion that you catch him off guard first. Astarion is usually making you trip through sentences. 

You wipe away your tears and your face hurts from smiling. You feel like your face may split in half when you look at his face. He looks equally as happy and he is still embarrassed- it makes him look softer and he blinks very slowly. 

 His lips… look… so… kissable!!!!

Swimming! You scream at yourself, you came to teach him how to swim, not imagine making out with him!

 “Alright,” you submerge yourself until you are neck deep, turning to face him, “I believe in you peepaw!”

 Astarion glares at you and you give him a shit eating grin.

“I am going to fucking kill you,” he yells over the waterfall.

“PROMISE!?” 

 Astarion rolls his eyes at you before nervously looking down as he watches the rest of his upper torso disappear. Another drool worthy aspect of him that you, begrudgingly, will never get to see outside of this capacity again.

 Shadowheart saw him in that capacity. 

 It’s almost enough to derail you and want to run back to camp.

Almost.

  Where you are up to your neck, Astarion still has quite a lot water clearance. 

“Look at that!” You wipe away a fake tear, “they get older and older everyday.”

“Oh will you knock it off with that already!”

 Astarion splashes you in the face and you sputter- spitting the water that got into your mouth out. 

“EEWWWWWW!”

“HAH!” 

 It takes a few more childish splashes before you eventually get to the initial matter at hand. However, you didn’t anticipate it taking thirty minutes to convince him to even doggy paddle.

“Maybe Scratch would be a better swim teacher,” you scratch the back of your head, “maybe he would demonstrate better.”

 Astarion is tight lipped and you have noticed that he refuses to turn around in front of you or allow you to get behind him. 

 Does he have some kind of nasty mole or something?

 No, you shake your head, it’s not your place to ask. 

 “What if we tried a backstroke?” 

 Astarion takes to that very quickly-  becoming faster than you even. 

 Everything is going “swimmingly” (Astarion splashed you again for that one) and you are pretty bummed that you have to leave. You are getting tired and your stomach is growling so loudly he can hear it.

 “Wait,” Astarion pulls you back before you get out of the water- it is now just below your shoulders while Astarion almost has his entire torso above water.

 Don’t look. Don’t stare. Don’t look. Don’t stare.

“Yes, Star?”

 A ghost of a smile flickers on his face, “I- I want to show you something.”

 You are a bit confused, but nod anyway. Astarion grabs your hand this time- a shock to your system- and pulls you out while looking at both of your hands. He refuses to look your way and he seems to struggle with letting go. 

 He closes his eyes with a shaking breathe and turns around, his fists are in tight balls and you are beginning to worry there may be a creature that wishes to consume you coming out of his back at this rate.

 Thankfully, the situation isn’t that dire, but you still take a sharp breath. 

 You can see why he didn’t want to turn around earlier. The scars are so precise and deep- it looks horribly painful. You cannot imagine how long it took for this to occur- considering he has vampiric healing. 

 The skin has been healed over a thousand times, but your heart feels broken when you think about how many people have taken advantage of his situation and never stopped to ask how they could help. Those who dug their nails into his back or found beauty in his scars- only wanting to enjoy his body and chase their own pleasure.

 You aren’t sure what you should do. You want to touch them and soothe every emotional and physical wound- even the ghosts of them- but you aren’t sure that would be accepted considering the nature of the scars. You want to tell him you think the world of him- that you love him and nothing could ever change that. Hells- you would kill Cazador tomorrow if you could- but you don’t think that would help either.

 You have never felt this angry in your whole life.

“A gift,” he says solemnly before his voice is flooded with venom and embarrassment, “from Cazador.

“He composed it over the span of a night,” his shoulders slump, “he made many revisions as he went.” 

 You recognize the language and it makes your stomach turn. 

 This soul swears no oath by fire 

Nor words does he speak

In the realm of death

“Do you know what it is supposed to be?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “I have never seen it. A poem or something like that.”

 A poem? That isn’t right. It’s poetic, but it seems more of a contract or curse.

 You shake your head, “this is Infernal and while it reads like a poem- it’s certainly not a poem.”

“What!?” He turns around and looks at you with panic, “infernal?” 

  This leads to drawing the design out of the dirt on the beach.

“What in the hells did he do to me?” 

 Astarion’s fear and horror soaks into your bones. You look down at the looping design. 

 It makes your own skin crawl and the message itself worries you deeply. It makes you worry that Astarion will never ever be free, but it wouldn’t make sense. This is a devil’s contract- you aren’t sure people can use those to bind themselves to someone.

“Karlach and Wyll may-“

“No,” he interrupts, “let’s keep this between us for now.”  

 You erase the evidence quickly and you are admittedly a bit surprised by the statement. 

“Doesn’t Shadowheart know? She may-“

“Shadowheart hasn’t seen them.” 

“I think she- wait really?”

“Yes.”

“But you-“

“Barely- neither party was enjoying themselves.” 

 Oh.

 Your perplexed mind must be showing on your face because Astarion smirks at you with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh please- I may be a worthless elven whore, but I-“

“Do not say that,” you cross your arms and Astarion’s sentence stops in it’s tracks, “you are not ‘worthless’ and you are not a ‘whore’ either. Even if you were- of your own volition- there is nothing wrong with that. Sex work is a very valid form of work and as long as you are happy, I will be more than happy for you.

“However, that is not the reality of the situation.” You feel your frown settling further into your face, “what happened to you is cruel and horrific. No one deserves to be treated that way- especially not you- and I can assure you that the Priestess and I are going to have serious words about including vampire spawn and helping them when I return to the temple! I am embarrassed on the behalf of the entire damn clergy.” 

 Astarion’s eyes soften significantly with a bit of warmth and humor. He also looks authentically surprised by your passion regarding the subject. He nods and turns away- continuing to get dressed and you do the same. 

 You aren’t necessarily thrilled with yourself because you neglected to think about what you are going to wear to sleep. You have a few pairs of camp clothes, but now they are soaked adjacent and you still technically have a tent mate. 

 Unless he decides that this is all too much? It feels like there has been a lot more emotionally intimate moments between both of you and you worry from time to time. It helps that you don’t have the pressure of a romantic bond, but you don’t want to make him feel trapped. 

  You walk back in silence- stretching and yawning as you go. 

 There is so much to do tomorrow. Laundry- big time. Probably need to try to secure more food before we cross the border… at this rate, we never know when the next time to restock will be.

 Ugh- especially with the Shadow Cursed Lands. We probably need to secure more blood for Astarion too. Oh and finding a way to store it so it doesn’t become disgusting. Maybe a few Restoration scrolls. I know I will be the primary source of food for him. 

 “You are thinking awfully hard over there, Darling.”

“I am just thinking about my chores.”

“Chores?

“Well, for one, I need to wash my clothes. I didn’t think about that before we went swimming. I am also trying to figure out the food situation- we are going to need to figure out how to store blood for you and try to collect as much food as we can before entering the Shadow Cursed Lands. I want to begin preparing for that now so we don’t run into trouble later. Hungry bellies and life threatening circumstances never end well.”

“Y-you don’t need to worry about me, Darling,” he stammers, “I am sure I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, but I want to help. It will stress me the hells out if I know we don’t have something for you to eat or at least several potions so I can recover because you starving is not an option!” You exclaim, “and could you imagine Shadowheart and Lae’zel interacting while hangry? I like living, thank you very much.” 

 Astarion snorts and shakes his head, “I don’t know- I think it would make for a rather fun evening. My money would be on Lae’zel.”

“Really?” You are genuinely surprised, “my money would be on Shadowheart only because Karlach may get involved. Otherwise- Lae’zel all the way.”

“What if we made them ‘hangry’ on purpose,” Astarion offers, “we could see exactly how the situation goes? For research purposes, of course.”

“Of course,” you say, “just for research…”

 The two of you hatch a plan- the next day, you will refuse to take breaks and Astarion will throw a fit if you try. This means the two women won’t be allowed to snack throughout the day and Gale always takes forever to cook. 

 At some point, Astarion intertwined his fingers with yours and you notice, but you just hold on tightly. You really don’t want him to let go and it feels natural. You don’t notice the way he is looking at you or how he has to pay extra attention to the environment while he listens because he has almost tripped a couple times. 

 The walk home is calm and peaceful. You chatter back and forth about the various theories you have regarding Gith culture and the oddness of the crèche.

  Once you finally get back to camp- you practically skip to your tent to get out of your wet clothing. 

 It’s not until after that you realize you have made quite the error by getting caught up in your to-do list without informing Astarion that you don’t necessarily have clothes- your laundry situation is far more dire than you mentioned- and he may want to sleep in his own tent tonight. Your laundry didn’t just magically do itself in the last 10 minutes.

 You groan- thankful you have at least found a pair of underwear that are clean, but what are you supposed to do about a top? You also can’t go out to the campfire exposed. 

 “Darling- I think I may have left my-“ he coughs suddenly, “shirt.”

 Your arms cover your chest by instinct although you are turned around. 

“Oh- uh- ya um probably over there,” you sound even more awkward than you feel, “I am probably going to spend time here for the rest of the night. Didn’t really think about the laundry situation.

“I suppose that means I will see you tomorrow-“

 As if on cue- a shirt is pulled over the top of your head and you naturally put your arms through the holes. He spins you around with his delicate fingers leaving the ghost of his presence along your hips.  

  Blood is rushing through your ears. You feel far too warm and you just try to focus on the floor as he ties the laces up the front of his shirt. 

“There,” his voice is thick with an emotion you don’t know, “I suppose we are both stuck in here then. No shirt, no pants, no service, or whatever nonsense. It’s never stopped me though, but I can imagine you are no more ready to die than I am.” 

“What do you mean?”

 Astarion looks at you with a roll of his eyes and takes off his cloak.

“Oh please.”

“What!?” 

  Astarion guffaws at you, “Gale would explode if he had the opportunity to see you without any pants. It would be instantaneous.”

 Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. That’s nonsense and absolutely silly.

“Ha, ha, very funny,” you huff, walking to your pack to get your brush, “I think it would be more so him dying of shock that I have skin to show.” 

  More silence as you brush your hair- styling it the way you prefer and praying to Selune that it dries correctly. Also that you don’t fall asleep so prematurely that it dries weirdly. 

 You are distracted though. You very much like how you look in Astarion’s shirt and it is very nice of him to be lending it to you. 

“I’ll make sure to wash your shirt with my laund-“

“I would prefer you didn’t,” he muses, “I rather like it when my clothing smells like you in your natural state, Darling.”

 You run straight into him as you turn around in your confusion, his fingers tilting your chin up until your eyes meet his.

 Ruby eyes send a massive infernal wave through you- this is how you imagine Karlach feels after consuming a soul coin. 

 You burn for him- whether he lights you on fire or sends electricity through your body. Only, you feel powerful in the way he looks at you. 

 It’s a somewhat possessive look, but not in the way you would have anticipated. It’s lustful and wanting, protective and gentle, heartbreak and hopefulness. Maybe even a bit of a fear. 

“Would you be with Gale like this if he asked?” 

 You shake your head wordlessly. Your cheeks are flushed, your heart is thumping erratically against your chest, and blood is rushing in your ears. Your entire body is quivering in anticipation.

 Astarion pulls you to him, his hands lightly on your ass. You can feel his finger curling- wishing to leave fingerprint bruises on your hips and thighs. You want him to so terribly it hurts.

“And Wyll?”

“No,” you say breathlessly. 

“Halsin?”

“Not without you.”

 He stops and chuckles darkly, “don’t threaten me with a good time, Lover.”

 You try to hold still as he kisses along the curve of your jaw- his other hand has become tangled in your hair. You want him to feel in control and to feel like he can stop if needed.

“What about the others?” 

 Gods- you can hardly believe he is serious right now.

“I only want you, Astarion.”

  This is not a confession you wanted to share ever again, but it’s out there now and you suppose it’s better to get your second rejection over with now than later. He’s probably just teasing anyway. 

 Only, it never comes- in fact- his fingers only seem to become more fidgety as they glide across your skin, sending shockwaves to your core. 

 You are in a trance and his grin is beautiful. Astarion is certainly a predator and you have quickly turned into helpless prey. You are right in his trap. 

 The whole world seems to just… stop. Your heart beat is thundering in your chest and blood roars through your ears. You wonder if he feels this way too- is this a universal experience or one sided? 

 His fingers travel along the curves of your face as if he is painting you, but his eyes are intense- it almost feels like he is trying to memorize you and your features. 

 Your breath hitches when his thumb swipes across your bottom lips, parting them ever so slightly. 

 You allow your eyes to meet his, and you have never wanted to be kissed more in your entire life. Something in the way he looks at you tells you that he feels the same. 

 It’s a silent consent- he watches your every move as he leans in and your eyes flutter shut the closer he gets to you. 

 The anticipation is killing you and you try to contain your huff of frustration, but you are desperate. This feels like a dream. 

 Astarion’s lips send shockwaves through you when he finally makes contact. 

 Every movement is slow and tender- your face is still cradled in his hands, but you aren’t sure where to put yours. Astarion seems to read your mind and his hands travel south, gently guiding your hands to rest on his chest before returning to your face. 

 You have kissed people before, but not a single soul could hold a candle to Astarion. Not that they could anyway, but this is just… incredible. 

 His lips like honey and wine are dizzying, you feel like a delicate work of art in his hands, and his skin feels like porcelain underneath your fingertips. 

 Astarion guides you to the ground, your hips straddling his, and one of his hands tangles itself in your hair, pulling you into a bruising kiss. The other remains firmly on your hip and you feel exhilarated by the idea of the fingerprint bruises that are certain to be left behind. 

 One of your arms is propped up next to his head- helping you keep balance so you don’t fall on top of him by accident. The other slides in between both of you and rubs along the outline of his cock- you swipe your tongue along his lower lip when he moans, taking advantage of the temporary dominance. 

 It’s short lived- he pulls you back by your hair and you have to put your hands on his chest to keep from embarrassing yourself. The last thing you want is to topple over on accident and have the, “yeah so I have a dirty V-Card and haven’t gone all the way, but it’s no biggie! I am sure this whole position thing will make sense eventually!” Because that seems to just scare off men. 

 The hand that had been gripping your hair is now paying an artfully close amount of attention to your clothed clit, pushing away the fabric, and one finger slides inside you with ease. 

 You bite your lip so hard you draw blood and you basically growl- you don’t want to alert the entire camp to your activities. This is meant to be a private moment and yet, you could not be more embarrassed.

“I-“ you are blushing red, his finger still moving slowly inside you, “I’m- sor- just wanted-“

 Astarion has you on your back- sucking, nipping, and lapping at the blood on your lower lip. He reinserts his lithe finger inside of you- his thumb taking it’s sweet time to hit every single nerve followed by a second finger that makes you briefly see stars.

“I don’t want to hear you ever apologize to me over something like that- it’s a noise I would rather like to hear from you again,” he nips your lower lip and you groan, “you are absolutely divine.” 

 You are a moaning mess against his doll like lips and your core is tightening so much it’s bittersweet. You want your release so terribly and you are lost in the way his fingers feel inside of you. Astarion curls and scissors his fingers- eventually adding a third that makes your toes curl in pleasure.

 He begins to make his descent down your body- kissing along the vein in your throat and along your collarbones. 

 Every inch of your skin is littered in kisses or has been love bitten by the time his cold tongue circles your sensitive clit. His fingers continue their rhythm- occasionally changing speeds to either tease or ruin you. His other hand is holding your hips down- your thighs are holding his head in place and you have no idea how much he is enjoying being buried between your legs. 

 He really, really made a mistake going with Shadowheart. You are incredible- exceptional even. The way you are fighting to keep your moans quiet as the camp begins to stir to life makes his cock twitch painfully against the already strained clothing. It doesn’t seem to matter how much friction he provides himself with- all he can think about is being inside you, filling you to the brim, taking you and making you his once and for all. 

 When you finally have the wherewithal to look at him- you are taken away with the way he looks at you. It’s the same way a priest looks talking about his God. 

 You guide his face back up to yours by weakly grabbing his hair- evidently your mind is in the same space and wanting to feel entirely consumed by him. You bite his lower lip and the growl he releases tips you over the edge- stars explode behind your eyes and you feel the rush of bliss numb your entire body. 

 A low pitched whine leaves your throat when he removes his fingers. He chuckles, but you feel so incredibly empty. It feels wrong. You are desperate to know him in every way, if he wants that.

 His eyes are still blown with lust, but you can see the adoration for you that Karlach so often talks about. You are smiling like a schoolgirl as he slots himself between your legs and begins to kiss you again. 

 Astarion’s cock is hard against the inside of your thigh and your breath hitches- the implication of the next act suddenly hitting you. 

 It’s happening and with someone you care about. Only, it makes you freeze, because it’s happening and it’s with someone you care about. 

“Is everything alright, Darling?”

 Astarion is looking at you with concern and you are quick to assuage him- gently guiding his face down to yours and kissing him deeply.

“I haven’t quite- reached this step yet- if that makes sense, but I PROMISE I WANT TO,” you are trying to save it before it crashes and dies on the floor, “if you want to- that is. 

 Astarion looks a bit surprised- maybe even a little shell shocked. What do you mean you haven’t quite gotten to this step? Are you trying to tell him you are a virgin?

 It makes sense, but a part of him is worried he may be opening the proverbial Pandora’s box and you will only want him for sex now. 

 But this is you and… he can trust you. He can enjoy you. He can indulge safely.

“I very much want to,” his voice is low and thick with lust, “I want you so terribly it hurts.” 

 The act is far more beautiful than you could have ever expected- it feels like putting together two pieces of the same beautiful vase as if it wasn’t fixed or reunited until this exact moment. 

 His movements are slow and careful- he takes his time to ready you completely. Astarion kisses your whimpering lips and his hands are intertwined with yours. 

 It’s odd for him to be entirely in control, but he also loves every second of it. He loves how consumed with you he is.

 Astarion’s eyes are boring into yours with every movement of his hips and every time you blink- he is still watching you with hooded, lustful eyes.

 His own eyelashes flutter and Astarion’s eyes are fighting not to roll back- he wants to see every single second. Astarion wants to enjoy every moment of you.

 You are technically his first too- to an extent. You are the first person he feels something for and wants to be with. 

 Your pulse thrums through his cock and his chest- it’s intoxicating and enduring. You are so real- so undeniably wonderfully alive and it allows him, even if for a moment, to feel like he is alive too.

 You mewl against his mouth, you weren’t expecting so much pinching at the start, but you found it went away quickly- your arms are now wrapped around his neck and he rocks inside of you with a slightly faster pace. His lips coax even more sighs and gasps- his own becoming intermingled as you continue to indulge in one another. 

 You feel utterly full- disgustingly, beautifully, perfectly full. You are on cloud 9 or you may have died and gone to heaven. 

 This feels right- exactly what you had been waiting for. 

 Astarion is experiencing the same emotions- he can barely keep his composure as you kiss him. The mewls and keens that leave your lips are some of the most melodic sounds he has ever heard and you are all his. 

 You feel perfect- he likes the feelings of your hands on him, even if it’s still a complicated feeling. 

 Sex has never felt sacred or safe- he has never been able to forget himself in a way that wasn’t dissociative and here he is, entirely lost in the moment.

 Entirely lost in you.

 He is gasping and sighing shamelessly into your ear with each thrust of his hips. Astarion is fighting to keep is release at bay and it’s a lot harder than he thought it would be. It usually isn’t, but you are a lovely wonderful treat. 

“A-Astarion,” you murmur his name like a prayer with every moan, as if he isn’t the one worshiping you right now. 

 Your heels are digging into his back and your heart beat is erratic. He kisses and nips your neck- struggling with his self control. You smell incredible. 

 When he goes to move away from your neck- one of your hands holds his head in place and he growls in response. Astarion means it more of a warning than anything else- he will end up biting you if you keep him here any longer. You are far, far too tempting.

 You seem to read his mind.

“I-you can- if you want,” 

 It happens so fast, neither one of you really expects it when he sinks his teeth into your neck- his body responds for him and begins to thrust into you erratically. Astarion has both of your hands pinned above your head again and you- in all your inexperience- are trusting him.

 The sounds that leave his mouth as he feeds and ruts inside you are animalistic and oddly enduring- your adrenaline and lust flows through your body. 

 Astarion’s mouth begins to feel warmer as you grow colder and his movements seem almost even more fast and distant with each second he takes from you, but you find you don’t mind. You should, but you don’t. 

 Your cries are guttural, hushed, and filled with pleasure- your legs are shaking around his waist and he can feel your life essence getting weaker and weaker. 

 It is becoming harder and harder to move away with each gulp of blood he takes, but he knows he needs to stop before he kills you on accident. 

 It feels physically painful to do so- not even necessarily because he is hungry, but because it made him feel truly connected to you on every single level. Astarion has never been given the pleasure of doing that before. 

“You,” he kisses all over your face as you look up at him lazily, “are so lovely and you have been exceptionally good for me, my Dear.”

 Astarion rolls so you are on top of him again- he knows you need a second to recover and he thinks you may rather enjoy this. 

 He props you up with his core and legs- using his hand to help himself get back inside you while you weakly keep yourself upright. You are a blissed out, wanting, whimpering mess when you finally are sinking back down on him and your hands are on either side of his head.

 Your eyes are blown wide with lust, blood drips down your throat and down your chest, and Astarion wants to remember this moment forever. You look euphoric and your eyes are glossed over from the haze of blood loss and pleasure. 

  Astarion moves his core up and done- thrusting up into you while one of his hands keeps you from moving and the other is tangled in your hair. He wants to see you orgasm- he wants to watch your face when bliss takes you again. 

 It’s beautiful when it does. 

 Your face is peaceful with pleasure, but your eyes are filled with adoration for him, not just lust and hunger-sated. 

 There is no boredom or false infatuation. No Cazador or  looming death right now- just the two of you in your little sanctuary together. 

 A mixture of your rush and his seed coats his navel and it may be the most delicious feeling in the whole world. The sound of your bodies is positively filthy and he is thankful you are still caught up in your haze because there is no way no one didn’t hear the events that have transpired in your tent.

 He pulls you down to his chest, your legs are shaking around his waist and he’s slightly worried he may have done too much for your first time. However, you are lazily kissing his cheek and along his jaw so you certainly don’t seem displeased.

 “Thank you,” you whisper, “this is what I envisioned my first time being like.”

“What do you mean?” He whispers back, unsure of why that is. Did you envision being with someone experienced? Beautiful? Easy to manipulate into sex?

“Being with someone I care about,” you lay your head on his chest and yawn, “with someone I consider my closest and most favorite companion. My friend and…”

 It surprises him immensely and he honestly has no idea how to express his gratefulness, but he is able to respond in a somewhat normal way.

“One and Only Lover?” He offers flirtatiously, “exceptionally charming Vampire? Your deviously handsome rogue?” 

 You sit up weakly, rolling your eyes and place a kiss on his chin before curling back up.

“All of the above.”

“Thank the Gods- I was worried I was going to have to kill Wyll after all.”

 You snort and just shake your head. Your breathing evens out and his hands are playing with your hair- as is the normal routine. 

 The normal routine. 

 Astarion’s smile is massive- he feels happy tears begin to stream down his face and he wipes them away with his free hand. 

 This is his new normal- having sex with you, a person he wants to be with, and cuddling afterwards. He even gets to drink from you.   And he already can’t wait to be with you in such an intimate way again.

Tag list: @preciouslittlebhaalbae @xxgrimripp3rxx @alice4wonderland2812 @therobishow @m1ster1e @tragicdruid @katsutoria @aristenfromwarsaw @avabjorna36 @frankie-mercury @golden-baby

[r0-boat]

Thank you for coming to this dream and God damn it was terrible...

Thank you for sitting through the whole thing 😭

Anyways I streamed a date with death again Loved it! And I got bit by inspiration

So here we go!

Adwd

Casper really likes your hands...

Cw: masturbation (solo), ruined orgasm (sorry Grimmy), dirty boy thinks dirty thoughts.

Warm and soft.

Warm and soft.

Warm and soft.

Three words echoing in his head ike a mantra. Ever since your late night visit on that full moon night your fingers grazing against his gloves as you take the flowers that bright beautiful smile on your face.

Laying in his own bed even his soft axolotl plushie that he desperately holds tight can't sue them to sleep. Even as Casper tries to glue his eyes shut he just can't keep that vivid vision of those hands grazing against his glove out of his head.

So small, so gentle.

It was almost hard to believe that this hand belong to the person causing him so much distress and happiness. Letting out a sigh awaking from his fake slumber he stretches his hand out.

"I wonder how small your hands will look against mine." He mutters.

'fuck What am I doing? And daydreaming about a mortal.' Casper clenches his teeth placing Azrael aside he puts his head in his hands. As much as he doesn't want to, He couldn't stop.

If he intertwines his fingers with yours, would you feel heavy or light? Would you squeeze him or pull him along with your carefree and delightful smile? Your thumb rubbing against the back of of his hand.

Speaking of, You did say you wanted to touch him, And when he did touch you through the soul experience explain he was cold.

And from how warm you felt it it was good. Other worldly good. He wonders how it feel for your fingers to touch him. Your warm body pressing fully against-

Fuck...

The tightness in his pants there was no mistake in it.

Oh Gods if you were to know there was no telling what you would do, what you would say. And that thought just made him throb.

There was no way he was going to sleep now.... And the cold shower before didn't help at all.

Cussing under his breath He pouted looking at Azrael, using his free hand to turn him around before finally sliding his pajama bottoms down.

His cock springs free, any waste no time wrapping his hand around it's shaft. Living humans were much warmer than he expected, which makes sense, because He never experienced a warm body like this, normally humans would be already cold when he got to the body before harvesting the soul.

His thoughts running free his eyes squeezed shut imagining you were here with him, That cheeky smile as you wrap your hand around his cock.

That made him buck his hips.

Oh what he wouldn't give to feel that warmth around him. He has to know, he simply must know how soft and gentle that hand would be.

Would you go slow? Or fast?

No you would go slow. His hand moves slowly rubbing up and down making sure his fingers brush against the tip of his cock.

You would get a feel for him first... Perhaps you'll be amazed at how big he was.

Understandable for you to feel so shy he was pretty big... Oh, he would give anything to hear that from your lips.

But then you'd give him that signature cheeky look before going faster. Those beautiful gorgeous eyes full of life and lust and other dirty things you think about gazing into his as you speed up drinking in every reaction he makes.

He arches his back letting out a silent moan as hand getting faster making sure to give himself a little squeeze.

And before he gets close you will stop. Leaving him with nothing, leaving him wanting more.

Casper was getting close He could feel it but then he stops his hand, letting out a little whimper as his hand cups his balls. As his cock twitching and throbbing from a ruined orgasm calms down. He has never done this before, He's only ever vaguely heard of something like this but it was just something he knew you would do. And god damn he loved it.

[turtleybeachin]

The Boys Trying to Help with a Menstrual Cycle

Has this been done? Sure. Am I writing it anyway at 2:30am with a mug of mulled wine? Hell yes I am.

(content warning: discussion of menstrual cycle products. MC has a menstrual cycle and vagina but no gender assigned. involves demon men being pretty oblivious but honestly not worse than human cis men.) *edited, thank you to the anon who pointed out my mistake. ♥

Mammon's the one texting to ask "yo human what size is. ... hey what size your ... ... ya know. ... how big is your ... ... it's cool no matter what size ya know all sizes are great you're perfect no judgement just. .... small medium or large????"

Satan is like "You can't ask a person what size their vagina is you moron." He's read enough about the issue at hand to know these are flow levels not vagina sizes anyway. Still not sure which to get though. Buys one of everything better safe than sorry.

Lucifer rolls his eyes confidently picks up the most expensive package of regular pads and regular tampons. Looks like he knows what he's doing. Is 100% faking it.

Beelzebub's worried about the flavor of the tampons. Won't lemon be unpleasant when they're already in pain? Those look like probably key-lime pie which sounds good. He'll buy two packs, one to sample on the way home. (he's distressed to report they don't taste like anything the colors are lies.)

Asmodeus goes straight for whatever has been popping up the most ads or getting the most discussion on DevilGram. Only the cutest and trendiest for his favorite human!!! Also gets you some cute underwear gotta dress up your time of the month~

Leviathan's just having a complete panic attack feels like other people are staring and judging him THESE AREN'T FOR ME, THEY'RE FOR MY-- errr, I mean, not my r-really, but... m-maybe sorta my-- OH MY DIAVOLO I'M BEING SUCH A NORMIE I'M BUYING PADS FOR SOMEONE THIS IS LIKE IN THAT ONE ANIME--

(Don't worry, after a text from them cheering him on and thanking him for being the perfect Lord of Shadows to their Henry he Demons Up and buys five of everything because DAMN STRAIGHT HE'S TAKING CARE OF HIS HENRY BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE.)

Belphegor just picked up the squishiest package and that's what they're getting. If these don't work for them, at least it'll be a decent pillow in a pinch.

Bonus:

Solomon is the one competent man in the whole gaggle. He actually knows what menstrual flows are and whether MC prefers pads or tampons, because he asked, because he knows these things. Is the only one to actually know what he's buying.

Diavolo has Barbatos send them a year's supply of absolutely every menstrual product either of them could find anywhere in both the Devildom and Human Realm. Congratulations on the storage facility now in their name that has two lifetimes' worth of menstrual supplies.

Simeon just asks. That's it that's the whole shtick. He just asks specifically which they need and admits he doesn't know much about these products but is willing to learn. He'll text them photos from the store but also offer to go somewhere else if none of that looks right.

[changbinsboobs]

haii can you do skz ideal types? like physique and personality. thank youu

Hi:) since i want to do those readings properly im gonna do them one by one and since i already have some for individual members i'll use this ask to start with chan:)

So, i originally started doing an Ideal Type reading but it got hijacked😅 so i guess im reading on his current energy. I'll try to still add something about his ideal type if i manage getting past the bitter energy but i think ill have to redo it some other time since i believe his opinion would be very influenced by his current feelings right now.

Take it with a grain of salt!!!

Chan's current energy / Ideal Typ

For his physical type i got pretty weird cards ngl, 3 of them are the tower, 5 of cups and 5 of wands, the 4th one's queen of pentacles. Tbh i didn't really get any hints about anything physical. He seems angry and bitter.

I think this reading is gonna be hijacked by something else he wants to talk about. I sense he has had a bitter experience thats still fresh in his mind, i think he got dumped tbh!

Like im seeing a situation with lots of bickering. Ogmg ok wait i have so much to say about it this situation has so many layers!

He feels like he lost something great and regrets his stupid actions.

At the same time tho he thinks its that persons fault and if they were better he wouldn't have acted in a way that would get him dumped.

But then again he feels like he's at fault and regrets it a lot.

But he's also so angry cuz they kept having fights, and she kept exhausting him and he kept not being enough. He feels horrible when he's not enough! He doesn't want to feel like that. He wants to live up to her expectations, to peoples expectations. But he just couldn't in this situation with that person.

It seems like he actually got himself a high quality girl - the he couldn't keep obviously. And he's in so much distress with all his conflicting feelings and thoughts. Im sry but im getting a bit angry at him here🙄 its that male stupidity with lack of accountability whatsoever! You cant expect to give the bare minimum, to be an excuse of a "man" and except to get all the perks real man and masculinity gets you! Deal with the consequences bro🙄 -> not necessarily meaning him, im just seeing the picture from his view, so idk how "horrible" he actually was, i was rather talking about the general population of useless men that just have the audacity to expect the best when they themselves aren't worthy of it and then get mad when they can't keep it.

Anyways back to chan - im also getting mommy's boy vibes here omg its getting worse😩😭 i feel like with this situation he's like "forget her bro, she's not worth it. Your mom used to cook and clean, and take care of 3 children and do everything by herself and she didn't whine and was always so giving. I want a woman like that! This girl wasn't lie my mother - she's not worth it, get over her and stop feeling guilty." Don't take that monologue word for word i was rather training to paint the feeling behind his thoughts.

So yeah we have that...tbh i didn't expect him to have a reaction like that like with the comparison to his mom. The rest i expected, but this? Damn🥲

Also this whole situation seems very dramatic, but what I've noticed in the male population overall is that they tend to blow things way put of proportion, and so knowing chan and his tendencies for a victim-complex, pick me, delulu and stuff - im pretty sure this situation might've been not dramatic at all. Just 2-3 little discussions (not full blown arguments and fights as he depicts it) or even just opposing opinions, where he just felt attacked in some way just by her disagreeing or something...and then after a few dates or weeks of dating she politely told him she doesn't want to see him anymore cuz they don't see compatiable and he broke down.

Again idk how things are for real cuz i haven read the other girls energy nor have i read just the energy itself, im just reading HIS energy and perception, but it feels really needy and excagerated so thats whats leading me to believe that it might not be nearly as bad.

So i managed to get some cards on his ideal types personality only and i got those: 3 of cups, 6 of pentacles, page of cups & king of wands.

His types a younger, more innocent and inexperienced girl he can take care of and teach and lead.

She likes a girl that's social but shy. Someone he can take with when meeting his friends and show of. But as i said - social enough for him to be able to do that - but but also shy so he stays sure that theres no risk of her "going wild" (goddamn bro u forreal?🫠)

Im actually getting something about physical appearance - slender, middle hight, like just a bit shorter than him, prefferably forreign with lighter skin and ginger or light brown or dark blonde hair. Im also seeing big head? Like yk this type of body with very slender narrow shoulders, long lanky arms and legs, but a bigger head where it also seems disproportionate to the body? Its so specific i almost think thats what his last girl looked like.

And he also wants a girl thats submissive and will see up to him and make him feel like a boss or a king or a ...daddy (🤢 im sry i just cant hold in the cringe)

In conclusion - i think this ideal type i got from the cards isn't his true ideal type but rather something that came out of spite. Like if i had to guess he's describing the girl he lost, but without her empowering qualities so that he doesn't get hurt.

Judging on the energy of this reading and previous ones ive done i think he has had a think for strong dominant women because he's fascinated with inner strength and power and always wanted to conquer a woman like that because in his head it meant he has that amount of power and strength the said woman had and even more - since he has managed to tame and conquer her. Now that he's tried tho he got met with the cold reality and got a slap in the face realizing he might not be fit for the task just yet and is just sour about it😃

As weird and unexpected this reading was i really enjoyed it cuz it was really shocking to me actually and even gave me a bit of a slap in the face, reminding me how he's just a man...and that he apparently does stupid things like any other guy too.

[the-nysh]

Rewatching Trigun's 98anime (subs this time, being used to the eng dub) since I was curious to note the characters' shifting pronoun usage.

For reference, Stampede Vash always uses the softer, more humble, modest, boyish 'boku' - as expected (like Trimax Vash), even after his glow up in ep12, he still regards himself the same way. While Knives (Nai) exclusively uses the harder, more assertive, masculine 'ore'...ever since he was a little baby, which immediately differentiates them apart, but is...extremely (lmao) edgy of him.

But in the 98anime? Oh my god, it's all flipped around and completely different! Which quite interestingly reveals a lot of contextual nuances to many characters, and quite frankly rewatching in Japanese trying to catch all these things only thoroughly kicked my ass throwing in so many difficult-to-understand, unexpected curveballs; I'm both shook and humbled by what I've heard!

Because 98 Knives refers to himself as 'boku' O____O;; even during his most 'villainous' lines yelling at Vash too. Him having that casual but 'polite' poised dissonance in his voice comes off extremely unnerving;;; when he speaks of horrible things thru such an 'innocent' self-perception like that. (Even Legato uses 'boku' like him! Same in Stampede.) Damn I'm disturbed. He and Vash notably both used 'boku' when they were kids, but Knives in particular never really stopped saying that from their childhoods, so that says a lot about him. (His "did you just shoot me [boku]!?" comes off very uncannily childlike. No wonder Vash freaked out in guilt.)

But 98 Vash? Whoa, he requires a whole damn essay flips around ALL the time, interchangeably using BOTH! :O Often switching pronouns between 'ore' & 'boku' within the same episode, or even as quickly as every other sentence, even towards the same person. Depending on the immediate context/topic of what he's saying and the emphasis on how he's saying it. Via all his posturing, which 'persona' he switches into, his familiarity/humbleness/honesty/trust--even hostility towards certain people, and his mood's silly vs seriousness levels. Often reflective of how determined/confrontational/casual he is vs being walled off (masking) to openly repentant, lost or distressed too - but not always! It's Extremely inconsistent fascinating but confusing!!! Because there's no....fixed 'rules' to his usage. For ex he'll often use 'ore' casually within his own internal monologues to his more bombastic public self-introductions, or even when he's at his most serious in private moments about grave matters, like settling his past during his scar scene with Meryl. Even Eriks!Vash still uses 'ore' when confessing his guilt to Wolfwood about the Fifth Moon! So there feels to be a general preference for using 'ore' when he (internally and externally, both in casual and serious contexts) needs to show his 'determination' - aka being the man (the ideal 'Vash'?) he wants to become.

But then he'll flip around using 'boku' for some of his most exasperatingly fake ✨playful✨ bits when he's kidding and messing around in mock courtesy (bonus: he even uses 'watashi' as a joke for his ridiculously long 'formal' name introduction to Wolfwood).....AND 'boku' will be used for his most sincere humble (polite) conversations back with family members he knows at Home, and when he connects back to his childhood with Rem in his dreams. The Diablo ep is a good example: he uses 'ore' throughout the ep until he reverts to 'boku' after speaking to Rem deciding not to kill, and that humbling shift, like to that of a lost younger boy, makes so much sense. The shift happens again when Eriks!Vash thinks about Rem feeling just as lost: "what should I [boku] do?" And after the tragic incident at Home when he's depressed and masking himself behind his glasses, while quietly reflecting to Wolfwood with a reproachful, "Everyone who touches me [boku] dies." ...Before immediately changing back to 'ore' in the next sentence firming his resolve to face Knives.

But in general it really depends and you have to listen hard (pay close attention) to hear how much contextual teasing, sincerity, irony, genuine respect, or...humbling self-reproach and self-depreciation he uses. Indicative towards how much (or how poorly) he internally regards himself and how he externally presents himself to others, because it changes. All the time. His personal pronouns aren't fixed! ...Basically, I'm just as confused as Meryl (and it really makes narrative sense why she's so confused by him), not knowing which 'persona' is the real him! x'D

...Oh but a really good moment, in ep24 when Meryl pleads at him to be honest with her for once about all the tragedies, he uses 'boku' explaining everything to her about Knives. That's....really good. :O Like umm...him using 'ore' before with her (in the scar scene) kind of erected a subtle barrier when he refused to elaborate further, but using 'boku' so sincerely for her request.....like it..extends her the same humble level of courtesy/trust he'd use towards the 'family' he loves back at Home (+Rem)....but it's so loaded, cause he's being honest but still...distant telling her why he's better off alone. :')) Man...(the aaangst) Oooooh, but then ep25 is very telling too, cause he's mentally lost for the whole ep, always using 'boku' so anguished and self-deprecatingly....until Meryl saves him and he gives her his softest genuine 'boku' yet, after he recovers back to himself donning the red coat again, thanking and assuring her he'll be alright. :'D (Hooray~) Before internally switching back to 'ore' on his final quest setting out alone for Knives. Ep26: he still keeps that distinct assertive 'ore' in front of Knives "I [ore] will survive!" and 'boku' for Rem: "I [boku] will continue to believe in you, but will look to my own [jibun] words for guidance." :')) (Bonus: 'jibun' is added when he philosophically thinks in terms of 'oneself'/'myself' from now on.)

Bonus nuance: while younger Vash may have dependently followed Knives' lead around--back when they both used 'boku' together, older (current) Vash--using 'ore' with him, feels like he's grown to assume the role as the more independent, responsible older brother now, when he finally understands how to put Rem's last words to 'take care of Knives' into practice. :'))

So tl;dr: Vash tends to have a casual leaning preference for using 'ore' in most situations both private and public, but especially for whenever he asserts his determination involving Knives with a confrontational edge. 'Boku' is used exclusively (politely, with genuine deference & care) towards extended family members he loves (like Rem, Brad, Doc, and eventually.....Meryl; using the softest 'boku' towards her I've ever heard. ;.;) And for whenever he humbles himself in distress, feeling lost in turmoil or self-reproach. But it's not set in stone! Since both pronouns can be used sincerely or ironically in jest, for whenever he's feeling silly or playing a bit (donning a mask), easily switching depending on presentation or context too. 98 Vash simply does what he wants! While Meryl screams in confused exasperation!

As for 98 Meryl, she often uses the book-standard, more formal/professional 'watashi' when introducing herself (Stampede Meryl too), and her speech patterns are typically very polite and pleasant to listen to (with many lovely 'desu-wa' sentence finishers.) ...Until she changes to the informal, more feminine 'atashi.' Ex: when screaming at Milly to let her go (to Vash) as the city blew up during the Fifth Moon incident. The raw sincerity in her voice for that change is so...🥺 of her. Note, cause most other girls - from Rem, Milly, younger kids like Lina, to older (but youthful) grandma characters all informally use 'atashi.' So for Meryl to drop her usual formalities when her honest feelings come out ("I [atashi] need to go there!" - to the epicenter where Vash is) means a lot. :')) ...Ah! Cause she slips to 'atashi' again in ep25, in front of Vash (while he uses 'boku' at his most mentally lost and openly wounded state) at his bedside. o///o Oh my... Using 'atashi' again while crying to Milly in regret that she couldn't confess anything yet to Vash on his sendoff. So yes, Meryl's feminine 'atashi' side shows whenever she expresses her honest feelings. :'3

Now 98 Wolfwood is a special case, cause he speaks primarily in Kansai dialect, which is extremely hard for me to understand what he's saying in modified/shortened slang all the time. (Compared to say, Meryl who speaks very cleanly and polite.) I've heard him use 'ore' when offering kids food, the more rural/casual form 'oira' when confessing his turmoil to Milly at his most vulnerable, 'uchi' when talking about 'our orphanage,' 'washi' (the 'old man' form of watashi) when speaking in more formal/aged terms of 'God', to the slang form 'wai' (he casually prefers this one a lot, and Stampede Wolfwood uses 'wai' too, esp when introducing himself to new people, for most of the few eps he's even in, and it makes him sound like...way older than he actually is?) to even 'jibun' when talking about himself with distance in flashbacks. The impression he gives off is like that of someone who's come from a rural/street kid (orphan) background...but who speaks like a chill elder now?? who's aged far too soon for his years. That's my best interpretation of what's happening. (His slang 'wai' even slurs to sound like 'oira,' almost like 'wai-ra' sometimes; gah it's really hard for me to discern, I'm sorry.) Bonus: he teasingly calls Milly 'my honey' in english, while she playfully answers him back with the pronounced 'a-na-ta' (dear), so they def have an inside thing going on. Bottom line, he's very complicated *bangs head on desk* and his accent is too unfamiliar/beyond my meager course level to fully grasp! :'D

To sum up (to the best of my hearing comprehension):

Stampede Vash: always boku, modest and unassuming towards everyone 98 Vash: BOTH ore & boku; not fixed. Casual preference for ore vs more humble courtesy using boku, but it's extremely context/mood/persona dependent, since he can mask & switch for jokes. Has a serious confrontational/determined edge using ore vs Knives--as if Vash becomes the older brother here, but always reserves the softer boku towards Rem and the found family he loves Stampede Knives: always ore, ever since he was a baby; so much edge 98 Knives: boku, coming off unnervingly childlike vs Vash's ore Meryl (both): watashi, but changes to atashi (98) when her honest feelings towards Vash show Wolfwood (both, Kansai dialect): primarily wai, but can use many other forms Legato (both): boku Roberto: ore Milly: atashi, but can mask using watashi when she's not fine Rem: atashi (98) & watashi (Stampede) Stampede Luida: watashi, but atashi when casual with teen Vash Brad (both): ore Dr. Conrad: watashi Stampede Elendira: watashi Stampede Zazie: boku

Now besides the animes, since Trimax is a whole other overwhelming complicated beast, and since I don't have access to check (nor would I even be able to easily read/understand) the Japanese raws, I'd be VERY interested in someone's investigation and breakdown into the manga's pronouns, especially for Trimax Vash, since I've heard that beyond 'boku,' he shifts and evolves throughout his journey too, possibly ending on a very soft wizened, matured 'watashi' that I'd love to hear more!

[kiarastromboli]

Teach me 5 (Chris Sturniolo x y/n)

Part.1 Part.2 Part.3 Part.4

Masterlist.

Warning: angst, mention of selfharm, arguing.

Summary: After a challenging party and a disagreement with her mother, Y/N finds herself alone, confronted by her darkest thoughts. She hits rock bottom, but something prevents her from taking irreversible actions.

Note: This part will address sensitive subjects such as depression and self-harm. If you're not comfortable with these topics, please do not read. I want to emphasize that my intention is not to romanticize distress or depression. If you're struggling and need help, there are people around you. My DMs are open for anyone who feels the need to talk. You are not alone. 🫶🏻

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

How could I be so stupid, even though my parents warned me about boys like Chris?

Liars, manipulators who can't control their desires and needs.

And I, like the naive and innocent little virgin I was, fell for it.

I fell for it, and I believed it for two years, believed it to the point of tearing my fucking heart out of my chest.

I can't believe I could be so damn foolish.

Is this what being blinded by love is like? Is this what it's supposed to mean?

Is that why they keep lecturing us teenagers that we don't know what real love is?

If he lied to me that night, then it means he lied to me every other night.

If he truly loved me as he claimed, he would never have dared to do such a thing to me.

How could he look me in the eyes and tell me all those bullshit while he was already dating another girl?

I thought he was honest and sincere; he had the same look as the first time he said 'I love you,' and now it all seemed like a fucking lie.

I knew that sleeping with him that night wasn't supposed to mean anything, and since we were supposed to remain friends, it's not the fact that he's with another girl that hurts me.

It's the fact that he lied to me, making me believe I was the only one in his heart.

I was warned about him; Julia told me to be careful, and even my father told me it was better if I went to the other end of the country to cut contact with him.

But I didn't want to believe all that because I was charmed by a few kisses and conversations that I thought were meaningful until now.

I wish it were just a lie, but that night, just before leaving Julia's party, I saw Tess and Chris kissing in the middle of the crowd, and I felt like I was going to die of heartbreak.

He was kissing her right here in front of everyone, which means he didn't even bother hiding it from me anymore.

Was it a way of getting back at me for what i did ?

Why did he make me believe he didn't hold a grudge against me? Why did he play with my fucking heart like that?

I was so ashamed that I didn't even bother explaining the situation to Julia; I went home and locked myself in my room.

Waking up this morning, I saw a ton of missed messages and calls from Julia. Shit, I didn't think to tell her I was leaving; she must have been worried...

In addition to feeling like shit because of Chris, I naturally had to wake up with a hangover.

I'm pathetic, this whole story is ridiculous.

"You came home very late last night; I thought you'd be back today," my mother said, arms crossed, upon seeing me enter the kitchen.

Great, now I'll have to face her, and judging by the expression on her face, I suspect our conversation won't be pleasant. That's just what was missing!

"I didn't feel very well last night; I preferred to come home," I told her, opening the kitchen cupboard to take a mug.

"Did you drink?" she asked, exhaling.

"Mom, I told you it was a party for my return, and-" I barely had time to finish justifying myself; she had already resumed speaking.

"I thought you had changed, that you had improved, but I see it's worse. How do you think your father will react to this, y/n?" she said, distressed.

I sighed before she could speak again. "Seriously, y/n, do you think it's an appropriate way for a young woman like you to behave? Have you thought about what people will think of us seeing you like this?"

"Damn, don't you ever get tired of bringing everything back to you?" I snapped, and she jumped at the sound of my raised voice.

"My whole fucking life, I played the role you wanted me to play, and I never complained!" I said, furious.

"You sent me to the other end of the country without even giving me a choice, forcing me to rebuild my life and leave the people I love!"

"Do you have any idea how challenging it is to be your daughter, Mom? Do you know what it's like to have this kind of education when you grow up around normal parents and teenagers?"

"Yes, I made some mistakes, and you never-" I paused, letting out a fake laugh. "Never failed to remind me!"

"But all the good things I've done, all the good grades, all the people I've helped, everything I've done to please you and help you, you've never commented on that," I said, disgusted.

"You never congratulated me; you never said you were proud of me. And no matter how much effort I put into it, I was never enough for you or Dad!"

"I hid behind this role of the perfect little girl. I hid all my pain and kept my head high, hoping that one day you would be proud. But the truth is, you'll never be because you don't love me. You love the girl I pretend to be, but you hate the girl I am!" I said before leaving the kitchen in tears to lock myself in my room again.

This day couldn't get any more horrible than it already was.

My mother tried knocking on my door, but I stayed there in my bed.

I didn't want to face her anymore; I didn't want to talk to her. It was already hard enough.

Why was my life so chaotic? Why don't I deserve happiness?

Why do things always have to get worse?

What did I do wrong to deserve this?

I didn't even know who I was and what I was supposed to be.

At that moment, I would have given anything to go back to the other end of the country, far from my parents.

But I knew that there, I would have given anything to come back to Boston, close to those I love.

I was lost and alone.

I had no one to share my pain with and no one to hug.

It turns out the only person I might have wanted to embrace was just a liar and an opportunist.

I wrapped myself in my blanket, closed the curtains, and turned off the lights.

I spent the day like that without moving a muscle.

Night came, bringing darkness with it.

Activity on the street outside my house diminished, giving way to silence.

My mother had given up and stopped knocking on my door.

My tears flowed and rested on my face until they turned cold.

I didn't know how long I had stayed like that, but I knew it was a long time.

I kept thinking about all the things I might have done wrong in my life.

I searched for the reason why everything was going so wrong.

Was it because I wasn't grateful enough to have a roof over my head?

Was it because I had been a spoiled child?

Was it because I didn't make enough effort?

Was it because I wasn't a good enough friend? Or a good enough daughter?

Was it because I am a bad person?

Am I a bad person?

Is it legitimate for me to feel this bad?

Am I not exaggerating?

After all, there are worse things in life, right?

People are dying out there, losing their loved ones, and I'm crying because a boy lied to me?

I'm crying because I'm just an unloved child?

A child who only wants to be recognized and appreciated.

What did I do wrong, damn it?

The more my thoughts chained together, the harder it became to breathe.

I had a weight in my chest, and I could feel it deep inside me.

I had cried so much that my sinuses hurt, and my eyes were swollen.

It was hard, so hard. What was I supposed to do?

How was I going to be able to continue living with this weight on my chest?

Dark and obscure thoughts took over my mind.

Thoughts that I was ashamed of, thoughts so awful that I couldn't bring myself to recount them to you.

I wanted to do something bad; I got up and grabbed the blade from my pencil sharpener on my desk.

And before I could reach my bed again, I was interrupted by my window opening.

I turned around in shock, falling face to face with Chris. Damn it, why did he always have to do that?

The blade slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor at that moment.

"Shit," I whispered, quickly bending down to retrieve it.

"What's this?" Chris asked, eyebrows furrowed, pointing at my closed hand.

"Chris, get out of my room right now," I told him sharply.

He scrutinized my face for a moment before speaking again. "Were you crying? Y/n, what's wrong? What are you hiding in your hand?" he asked, concerned.

"It's none of your fucking business. Just leave; I don't want you here!" I said, feeling anger rise again.

"Wow, I haven't done anything. Why are you talking to me like this? Seriously, I'm getting worried. What's going on?" he asked, confused, approaching me.

On reflex, I put the hand holding the blade behind my back when he reached my level, only making him more worried.

"Chris, I'm warning you; I'll call my parents if you don't leave my room now!" I panicked before he grabbed my arm.

"What are you hiding, Y/n? Open your hand!" he said, getting angrier and trying to open my hand.

"Chris, stop – let go of me, stop!" I said, succumbing and crying when he started overpowering me.

I tried to struggle, but he had much more strength than me. It didn't take him long to open my hand and find the blade.

His expression changed; he furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at me.

"What were you doing when I came into your room?" he asked, well aware of what my answer would be.

Tears started flowing again, and this time, I was filled with shame. I couldn't even bring myself to speak, so I just stood there, looking at him with teary eyes.

"Y/n," he said in a fragile voice.

"Why?" he asked, his gaze sad.

"Chris, I want you to leave," I told him amid my sobs.

"No, not until you explain why," he said, shaking his head.

I lifted my head before taking a deep breath to try and stop my tears.

"And why don't you explain your little story with Tess then!" I told him, changing the subject.

"Wait, are you serious, y/n? Don't change the subject," he said, completely confused.

"Chris, what I was about to do is none of your business anymore, not since the moment you lied to my face, making me believe I was special to you," I said, pushing him away.

"But what are you talking about, y/n? I never lied to you," he said, shaking his head.

"Then why didn't you tell me you were with her!" I raised my voice.

"What?" he said, even more confused.

"Chris, I want you to leave; I don't want to deal with this shit right now," I said, turning my back to him.

"Y/n, I'm not fucking dating her. Where did you get that idea?" he said, placing his hand on my shoulder, trying to turn me around.

"Why do you keep lying, Chris? She came to ask me to keep my distance from you, emphasizing that you two are together!" I told him, turning around and brushing his hand off my shoulder.

"Do you really believe that nonsense?" he said, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I saw you kissing her," I said, clenching my jaw and trying to hold back my tears.

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, taking a step back.

I sighed. "Damn it, Chris, you're such a jerk," I said, shaking my head.

"Y/n, it's not like that. It's really not what you think," he began to try and justify himself before I cut him off again.

"It's not what I think?" I said, raising my voice and eyebrows.

"Oh, so your tongue wasn't in her mouth?" I said, crossing my arms.

"Y/n, I know it can be misleading, but..." he began to try and explain before I cut him off again with a laugh.

"Misleading?! Chris, seriously?" I said, biting my lip.

"Please, let me explain, y/n," he said, grabbing my hands, but I didn't let him. I pulled back.

"I don't need you to explain, Chris; it's very fucking clear," I said, nodding my head.

"Y/n, please," he said desperately.

"Get out, Chris," I told him sharply.

He looked at me with furrowed eyebrows, not moving.

"For God's sake, just get the fuck out; I want you to leave!" I screamed, pushing him.

"I'm not going to leave you alone when you were about to hurt yourself, y/n. You can be as mad at me as you want, but I won't leave this room until I know you're safe," he said, standing his ground.

"Oh, now you're worried about me?!" I said, laughing.

"You're getting yourself worked up over nothing. I haven't done anything wrong, y/n," he said, looking me in the eyes.

"You'd rather believe some girl you don't even know over me. You won't even give me a chance to explain!" he said, waving his hands.

"Because I don't want to listen to another one of your lies, Chris. I'm too tired for that!" I told him, breaking into tears.

"But I'm not lying to you, y/n. Trust me!" he said, advancing towards me.

"I can't. I can't. I'm not strong enough for that. I don't want to take the risk of sinking even lower!" I confessed.

"Is it because of me that you were going to do that?" he said, pointing to the blade that now rested on my bedside table.

I looked at him, eyes soaked and throat tightened.

"Oh god," he whispered, running his hand over his face.

"I'm so sorry, y/n, if I made you believe I wasn't sincere, but all this is just a mistake. I'm not dating Tess," he said, taking my hands.

"I slept with her for a long time, okay, I won't lie to you. I was sleeping with her before we got together, and when you left, I turned to her right away," he began to explain, and I just listened.

"I was a jerk to her. I made her believe it could work between us to keep her under my control, even though I knew we would never be together," he said, and I could hear the disgust in his voice.

"When I got myself together, I stopped everything with her and tried to apologize, but she kept resenting me. She knew what you meant to me; that's why she didn't waste a second to come and tell you those lies," he said, and I sank down, sitting on my bed.

"Y/n, I'm not proud of what I did. She didn't deserve that, and it's not an excuse, but when you left, I was in such a bad place that I hurt anyone who came near me," he said, sitting next to me.

"I haven't lied to you once," he said, placing his hand on mine.

"I'm sorry, y/n, believe me, I really am. I didn't want you to end up like this. I should have told you that night, but I was too ashamed," he said, looking into my eyes.

"And why did you kiss her then?" I asked, wiping my tears.

"Because she threw herself at me; I was completely wasted. By the time I understood what was happening and detached her from my lips, there might have been enough time for you to see us. She probably waited until you were around to do it," he told me.

I looked at him without answering; I was hesitant. I didn't know if I should trust him or not.

"Y/n, I know it sounds far-fetched, but I swear it's true. You can ask anyone; I never dated her," he said, trying to be as convincing and reassuring as possible.

"Chris," I said, lowering my head, "I don't know if I'm supposed to believe you. I don't know if I should trust you or not."

"It's the truth, y/n, I swear. You can ask anyone. I would never do anything to hurt you," he said, squeezing my hand.

"I need time; I don't know what to think. I don't know if I should believe you or not,"

"I'll give you all the time you need," he said, nodding.

"You should rest; it's late, and you really look tired," he said, getting up.

"I'll take this with me," he said, picking up the blade from my bedside table before heading to my window.

"Chris!" I said before he left my room, and he turned around.

"Yes?" he replied.

"I don't want to be alone," I said, letting a tear fall, "Can you stay with me until I fall asleep, please?"

He took a deep breath, "Y-yeah, of course," he said, moving closer to me.

He grabbed the chair from my desk and placed it next to my bed before sitting down.

I slipped under the sheets of my bed, whispering to him, "Thank you, Chris."

"Don't thank me; it's the least I can do for you," he said with a weak smile.

Silence filled the room for a few seconds before I spoke again.

"It wasn't just because of you, you know?" I said in a weak voice.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, leaning towards me.

"I had a fight with my mom," I told him, and he nodded, signaling me to continue.

"And for the first time, I told her what I really had on my mind," I continued, sitting up against my headboard.

"I said things to her that I had never had the courage to say before, and when I went back to my room, everything hit me," I said, unable to control my voice, which occasionally broke.

"I found myself alone with my thoughts, and I started to wonder why all this was happening to me," I continued, waving my hands.

"I got lost in my own head; grief took over, and I felt this horrible weight on my chest," I said, letting a tear fall and placing my hand on my chest.

"It hurt, and I didn't know what I was supposed to do. My thoughts were screaming awful things at me, and I struggled to breathe; I felt suffocated," I said, shaking my head, and more tears began to stream down my cheeks.

"And for a brief moment, I thought that by inflicting physical pain on myself, it would get rid of all these bad thoughts," I said before biting my lip.

"I just wanted it to stop; I wanted to distract my mind. I didn't want to hurt myself, but it felt like the only solution," I said, trying to wipe away my tears.

"And now, looking back, I realize how stupid and awful it was. I don't know what came over me; it was like it was stronger than me," I added, hitting my mattress with my arm.

"I just wanted it to stop; I wanted to feel better," I said, shaking my head, and he took me into his arms.

I was so carried away by my emotions that I didn't even notice he was also crying.

"It's over now, y/n; I'm here, okay?" he said, holding me tightly.

"I'll chase away all those bad thoughts of your head for you if you want," he continued to say.

"It's going to be okay, I promise you," he said, gently stroking my head.

"I can't figure out what the hell is wrong with me," I told him, crying against his chest.

"I played a role for so long that I don't even know who I'm supposed to be," I said, clinging to his shirt.

"You're allowed to be lost; we all go through that. You'll eventually figure out who you really are; you just need to give yourself time," he reassured me.

"I know who you are, and I assure you that the person you are doesn't deserve to inflict so much pain on themselves," he continued to say.

"I just wanted to please them," I said, crying.

"Your parents?" he asked, and I nodded.

"If your parents don't love you for who you are, then they're really assholes. You deserve better than that," he said. I left his arms, wiping my tears.

"You're an amazing person, y/n, and it breaks my heart to hear you say that because you shouldn't have to beg for your parents' love, and it's just not fair," he said, caressing my cheek.

"In their place, I'd give you all the love in the world; in their place, I'd constantly tell you how proud I am of you because that's what you deserve," he said, looking into my eyes, and I couldn't help but cry.

"Thank you, Chris," I said, lowering my head.

"I'm sorry that life throws so much crap at you. If I could take away all the pain from your heart, believe me, I would," he said.

"But right now, what you need is to rest," he added.

"And I won't leave your room until you fall asleep, I promise. I'm here; you're not alone. I'm watching over you," he said, yawning.

"You're tired too," I said, smiling slightly.

"Yes, but I can wait," he said, returning a smile.

"You can sleep with me if you want," I told him.

"I don't know; won't your parents freak out?" he said, furrowing his brow.

"Not if you leave before they wake up tomorrow," I said, shrugging.

"Please, let me do this at least for you; you need to rest as much as I do," I added.

"Okay, um, do you want us to sleep in the same bed?" he asked timidly.

"You can sleep on the floor if you want, but it wouldn't be the first time you and I share a bed," I said, scratching my neck.

"Yeah, but the other times we shared a bed, y/n, it wasn't for sleeping," he said, rolling his eyes and chuckling.

"Do you think we wouldn't be able to share a bed without getting intimate?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"No, that's not what I meant. I—," he said, embarrassed, before I cut him off.

"It's okay; I'm joking. Stop being silly; come here," I said, lifting the blanket to signal him to lie down next to me, which he eventually did.

Silence filled the room, and it was a bit awkward. Chris kept tossing and turning, so I eventually spoke up, "Are you going to stop fidgeting around anytime soon?" I chuckled.

"Sorry, it's just really warm," he said, chuckling as well.

"Well, you can take off your sweater," I replied.

"Yeah, but I'm not wearing anything underneath," he said, embarrassed.

"Oh," I responded, "um, it doesn't bother me; you can take it off if you're more comfortable that way," I said, trying to play it cool.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking into my eyes.

"Yeah, and besides, it's nothing new. I've seen you like this before," I said, feeling awkward, and he couldn't help but laugh as he took off his sweater.

"Why are you laughing ?" I asked, confused.

"Nothing; I just find this situation funny," he said, stopping his laughter.

"Oh, shut up!" I said, giving him a punch on the shoulder, and we both burst into laughter.

"I never told you, but I really love your laugh, you know?" he said without thinking, making me blush.

"Ah yeah?" I responded, embarrassed, but this time not for the same reason.

"Yeah, I find it soothing," he said, smiling.

Another silence fell. We were face to face, looking at each other without touching, as if there was a vast space between us, almost like we were afraid to make contact.

"I love your eyes," I said without really knowing where I was going with it.

"Why?" he whispered.

"When I look into them, I feel like I'm the only person on Earth," I replied, letting my heart speak.

"It's because you are the only person who truly exists in my eyes," he replied shyly.

Another silence.

"I love your lips," he said.

"I love your nose," I replied.

"I love your hips," he continued, and I could feel the tension building.

"I love your arms," I responded, quickening my breath.

"I love your hands," he replied, placing his hand on mine.

"I love your back," I said, gradually moving closer to him.

"Y/n..." he whispered, his lips just a few millimeters from mine.

"Chris," I responded, my eyes fixed on his lips.

"I love you entirely," he said in an almost inaudible voice before closing the distance between our lips.

I grabbed his collar, pulling him closer without parting our lips. Our kiss deepened, our breaths mingling, and the room's temperature became unbearable.

"Y/n, we can't," he said, separating our lips, my right hand still on his cheek.

"I know," I whispered.

He laid back next to me.

"I love you entirely too," I said, turning my head toward him, tears in my eyes.

Silence, again.

"Maybe in another universe, we got to have our story," he said, staring at the ceiling.

"I wish we were in another universe," I responded, gazing at the ceiling as well.

"Do you think in the one we are, we'll never get to have our story?" I asked him, and he turned his head to look at me.

"I don't know," he said, sighing. "All I know is that in this universe, the girl I love leaves at the end of the vacation," he added.

"I wish things were different," I said.

"I know, me too," he replied.

"Can I fall asleep in your arms?" I asked, letting a tear fall.

He didn't respond, just opened his arms for me to snuggle against his chest, which I did.

"Good night, my angel," he whispered.

"Good night, my love," I replied.

I couldn't help but shed a few tears before closing my eyes and finally managing to find sleep.

Taglist: @chrisloyalgf @christopherscamopants @blahbel668 @thematthewlover @mattsturnioloarchive @carolinalikesthings @bernardsgf @whicked-hazlatwhore @hearts4chris @mattybsbitch @sara2233445

[amymbona]

Pls make a blurb about Reader forcing Patrick to help build a house for calico critters made with real wood and anything and this big man with big hands is just sewing tiny curtains, it sounds tew cute 🥹

It's not you who forces him but your baby girl Eleanor who doesn't like any of the houses displayed on the website. She has this particular idea about a princess looking three storey house with flowers and hearts, having provided Patrick with multiple sketches and thorough instructions on where the furtniture must be located.

"She's gonna be the death of me, I swear. Are you sure we can't find anything like this online?" Patrick mutters in partial annoyance, that is present mainly to find his distress, because - apart from tennis - he's not used to working with his hands at all.

You have a hard time focusing, unable to tear your eyes away from the typical dad stance - feet apart, balled fists resting on his hips - a belt with all the necessary tools ha going loosely around Patrick's hips. Damn, he looks really hot.

You rub his exposed arm, glad for the summer heat that made Patrick wear one of his sleeveless tops, and you thank god that Eleanor has currently gone to the local swimming pool with Lily and the Donaldsons. At least you don't have to control your primal urges.

"Oh, don't be so fussy babe. You're gonna nail it," you coo, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

The sight is a mix of both arousing and comical. Patrick's muscles flex as he cuts the wood planks with a hand saw, the motion reminding you of multiple different things. He's grunting and mumbling under his breath - Why did I agree to this? Goddamn, this is ridiculous. - eyes rolling onto the back of his head when he sees that one piece is smaller than the remaining three.

"Are you having any issues, darling?" you mock with a laugh from where you're sitting in the garden chair, legs crossed comfortably, glancing up from your book. His reaction makes you giggle.

Patrick shoots you a glance, brows furrowed, and a drop of sweat rolls down his cheek. "You wanna try it yourself, sweetheart?"

This is the peak dad performance in your eyes, with you lounging under the sun while your gorgeous husband looks absolutely stunning, sweat covered, with little insults leaving his mouth. He manages to get all the essential pieces before putting them all together, drilling screws into the wood to form the main box shape, and finally putting in the planks make for the storeys.

When the outline is finally done and painted all white, Patrick lets it dry outside and moves into the living now, now fighting with your sewing machine. Unfortunately, the little windows must have curtains.

"This is fucking devil's work. How do you even use that?" he's sitting there like a school boy about to cry over his math homework, completely lost.

You lean over him, your arms on either side of his head as you take one of the pink fabric squares. Patrick's breath hirches completely as you begin explaining the basics. "It's easy, just work slowly. First, you took the thread - yup, here - then just place it there, under the needle."

Your husband has a fucking hard time focusing on the instructions, lips parting hungrily as the soft inside of your arm brushes over his cheek. He really can't resist, pressing a few kisses to your soft skin, for which he earns a gentle slap on the back of his head.

"Focus," you command, earning a sigh in response. He really just wanted to kiss you, to feel you. "Foot on the pedal - good - it begins moving when you step on it. Just let the fabric run through the whole way, and be careful about your fingers. C'mon, try it."

It takes Patrick a few tries - okay, a bit more than just a few - but eventually, he ends up with four squares that resemble curtains at least a bit. That is, unfortunately, all he can deliver. Being a good wife, you do the rest for him, sewing little beddings for the beds, a table cloth and the two remaining curtains.

The rest of the afternoon consists of Patrick painting messy details on the wooden walls and bringing some boxes from your old home down from the attic - thank god you kept all of your Barbie house equipment - and attempting to fit the pieces into the wooden house. He steals a few mint leaves from the garden and makes tiny makeshift house flowers with them, knowing he'd have to swap those every two or three days, but whatever makes his darling daughter happy, right?

And when Eleanor comes back home, her hair damp and a thin layer of sunburn on her freckled cheeks, she can't contain her excitement.

"Daddy!" she squeaks, throwing her short arms around your husband's neck. He picks her up, literally blushing when she peppers his fave with sloppy baby kisses.

"D'you like it, princess?" he asks with excitement shining in his own eyes. He'd be really fucking disappointed if she didn't.

And she nods eagerly, immediately squirming to hop down and examine the small house thoroughly. "It's so cute daddy, they're all gonna fit rhere! The bed's too big but that's okay. They can have a sleepover!"

Later that day, when Eleanor is playing in her room and moving the animal figures into their new accomodation, you take Patrick in your arms. He seems to be exhausted, even though this whole process can't come even close to what he experiences on court, but he's more than happy to snuggle in your arms.

"She really loves it," you whispers, gently threading fingers through his curly hair. Patrick hums in response, digging his face deeper into your chest. "I'm so lucky to have such a handy husband at home. All for me."

At that, Patrick perks up, lifting himself on his elbows to hover over you, mischief glowing in his eyes. "Yeah?

You nod, humming as you begin rubbing his arms, gently squeezing the muscles that flex as Patrick's holds his weight above you. God, you could bite into that flesh. "Yeah. And he's really fucking hot as well."

"Is he?" Patrick echoes, leaning closer to nudge your nose with his own, chuckling at your smugness. You're so pretty.

And you nod again, now wrapping your arms around his shoulders to bring him in for a kiss. His caloused palms move under your shoulders to scoop you into him, fully settling between your legs and pushing you into the mattress. You're so warm and soft for him, a perfect pillow to rest on, cheeky and smug when you compliment him. He supposes that's good enough of a reward for his hard work.

But unfortunately, a high pitched daddy! fills the house before he could move further, and all the appetite is lost when Eleanor asks for yet another home made house.

[suzyandthefox]

Golden King

Help I'm running out of motivation and ideas

Anyway, Soft safe Sfw M/M G/t vore story, Unwilling prey.

Tag list: @pineappleparfaitie

Tailor has served the Golden king for as long as he knows, he had always looked upon the golden titan with admiration, more than admiration,even.

But the problem was, he was a small,frail human, who barely does anything of importance without collapsing, and He,The Golden King,Midas, was a titan.

A behemoth of sixty feet, who, despite being generous and gentle with Tailor,has never appeared to be truly… present in the moment.

Poor Tailor assumed that His highness, Midas, had so many things on his mind, the last thing he would care about was an insignificant being like himself.

It was even more accentuated by the fact that he never saw what's underneath his golden armour, save for the occasional glimpse of two pools of gold that he feared to look at, no matter how inviting they were,in fear of being swallowed by their beauty, and forgetting whom they belonged to.

However, all of this changed one fateful night.

=============

Ever since the Cursed King has met Tailor, he has made the human his -he would say servant, but the rest of those in his domain only saw a pet-

It wasn't out of pity, quite the opposite, he loved the boy, he loved him in the way a king loves his servant, and in the way a father loves his son, and in-between these two was a special kind of love he could not name, but it made for the desire to protect the little one from anything and everything.

So from then on,Tailor has always been by the side of the king, in the literal sense, for the boy has not known a moment without Midas in his vicinity, holding him in the palm of his gold-coated hand or on his shoulder, and when Midas does leave him, if even for a few moments, he becomes filled with great distress, and the crushing weight of dread and vulnerability.

That night, it was one of these moments.

The boy’s legs could not carry him, as if he was going to collapse at any moment, exhaustion eating at his frail body.

 And yet, he refused even the idea of leaving his king, insisting that he could still be of use, that the fatigue was only a mere hindrance.

“Rest.” Midas ordered, as gently as a father would order his son, but it still had the firmness that proved he was king.

“I can't rest when you haven't rested yourself, your highness.”

“Boy, you would be the first to know there's no rest for me.”

“Exactly, your highness”

The Cursed King sighed deeply, and contemplated his next words, he knew how distressed -frightened even- the boy felt when he wasn't around, and he also knew that he had to choose his words carefully, or else he would cause even more fear within Tailor.

Words be damned then, if Tailor wouldn't rest by demand,then he would rest by force.

He narrowed his eyes and thought for a moment if what he was going to do was the right choice, it made sense in his mind, but it was the execution and the consequences of said action that made him hesitate for a second.

His hand rested idly on his armored torso as he thought a bit more about the idea of swallowing his small servant whole.

Meanwhile, the servant was equal parts confused and worried about his master's sudden silence. His highness was thinking for sure, but about what? What it is that made him silent all of a sudden?

“Tailor”

The sudden calling of his name shocked him.

“I order you to go to your own bed and rest there, and if you dare disobey…”

“I will have to take drastic measures.”

Tailor swallowed, Midas was… threatening him? He who was always obedient and never dared to defy? But after a moment he realized, yes, this is what he gets for daring to defy the Golden King, and between his desire to stay by Midas’ side, and to be the good servant he was always meant to be, he chose to defy.

“I'm sorry… I'm so very very sorry…” The boy said between bated breaths.

“But no, I have to disobey you this one time, I don't have it in me to leave your side…”

Midas narrowed his eyes again, and even if the helmet had obscured his face, Tailor could just feel the anger forming underneath it.

“You have left me no choice then.”

In a quick but careful motion, Midas plucked the boy in a firm grip, and brought him close to his face.

He waited another moment, for it was the first time he observed Tailor from such a close distance.

The boy was a frail,soft thing. Big, frightful eyes staring into his own and welling with tears, and now that he held him in his hand and looked at him with all attention, he realized just how small he was.

It felt even more right to devour the sweet little thing, to swallow him whole and make him his own, whether that was his instincts as a Titan or a dark desire that he only acknowledged now, he did not know.

“Your …highness?”

It was too late to go back.

He winced when he heard the faint sobs, but still brought Tailor to his mouth, despite the protests and the begging.

He made it as quick as it could be, constantly reminding himself that it was Tailor that he is swallowing whole, and it was for a good cause.

He had not spent a moment tasting the human, instead he went with it as if he was swallowing a pill, despite his instincts screaming at him to do the opposite. 

It scared him, how easy it was, how  natural it felt, to be doing this, like he was always meant to do this, barely a single swallow and the poor little thing vanished.

He couldn't help but rest his now empty hand on his abdomen, as if he wanted to feel Tailor within his depths-No, it was as if he feared that he will lose the boy inside him and be unable to sense him.

But the feelings of fear and sorrow that stirred in his heart, feelings that weren't his own, has proved to him that the boy was still alive and awake.

He sighed again, as to adjust himself mentally to the reality of what he had just done.

He should be up and going now, but he couldn't move until he was fully sure that Tailor was completely safe and trusting of the new environment, or at least until he was trusting enough to rest in there.

=============

Tailor was sure this is the end.

He knew there was going to be consequences to his disobedience, but as soon as he was held like  that , he wasn't sure if he was ready anymore.

For the first time in his life he found the courage to stare directly at the King’s golden eyes, and a wave of awe washed over him as he saw his own reflection in Midas' eyes.

Everything soon turned into a horrible nightmare as he realized what was going to happen, he broke into tears as the titan’s warm breath  sent shivers down his spine.

He closed his eyes and tried to deny what is happening to him, but it was far too much for him to ignore.

Tailor couldn't take it, and he sobbed in pain, not even able to find the strength in himself to fight against the titan’s overwhelming strength, so he let himself be carried to the final destination.

It, at first,felt like it lasted forever, and in that forever, Tailor had went deep in thoughts, a thousand why’s came to him.

Soft, slick flesh held him in the strangest type of embrace, and yet Tailor was far too lost in his own mind, why has His Highness done this? And if the intention was to devour all along, Why not earlier? Why have he not chewed, and opted to swallow his frail form whole instead?

The long journey ended faster than he thought, when he felt himself slip into a larger room, and finally he could breathe and move his limbs.

Between his fear, sorrow, and the tiniest bit of curiosity, Tailor was completely lost, both mentally and physically.

He felt that the innards of the titan were a maze, so he chose to stay where he is, where His Highness would want him to be, as a good little morsel.

He couldn't stop crying, however, and he constantly mumbled “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm very sorry…” over and over, as he shivered weakly.

=============

Midas bit at his lip, deep guilt clawing at his heart, he couldn't handle Tailor’s crying in normal circumstances, and now he was the very reason he was crying.

He wished there was an easier way, but he reminded himself that it was all for a good cause, and that his own body was the safest place on earth when he made his mind to it.

“Little one…” He first spoke in a whisper, fearing that he may be too loud for the boy deep within him.

But he soon realised that the latter was not listening to him.

He repeated, but only received frightful, regretful mumbles.

“Tailor!” He finally demanded, and as if the boy wasn't small enough, he shrunk in size, which caused Midas to feel even more protective of him.

“Y…Yes, Your highness?”

Midas took a deep breath, and gently spoke:

“Look around you, child, and listen, do you truly know where are you?”

Tailor listened as Midas ordered him to, he heard a powerful heart, steadily beating, every single beat shook him to his core.

He heard the breathing, now hitched and shallower than it was as it reflected Midas' emotions at that moment.

Tailor wanted to speak, but whatever he was going to say wasn't important at that moment.

“You are within me,closer than any being could ever be, safe and hidden within an impenetrable fortress of gold.”

“And you have always known, little one, I have never hurt you, I never will, and tonight is no exception.”

The servant was even more confused, yes, he always trusted his master, but how in the world is being eaten alive safe?! And if Midas' intention wasn't to hurt him, then what was it?

“It's… not a punishment?”

“Because I… Disobeyed you?” The boy squeaked.

“Well, it's both a punishment and a reward.” 

“You have been stubborn as a bull, you weren't going to be convinced to go to your chambers, and I knew you will refuse to leave my side, I had to keep you close somehow, while also giving you somewhere to rest,”

“It made sense to me then that I carry you in my stomach, for you will both be with me and within a safe, comfortable place”

“I…apologize for putting you through such an experience, I should have warned you about what I was going to do first, but…”

“I may have been eager, desperate,or impatient.” Midas finished, and got up to walk to his own chamber.

“You are dear to me,Tailor, the dearest. For you to be here right now, under my heart and within my ribcage, for me to hold you not unlike how a mother holds her child, it's a testament of my love for you, and how important you are to me.”

“It's something only I can only give to you, and only you can receive from me.”

His eyes teared as he said these words, for he only now realised how much he cherished the human, and yet never took the time to tell him that, or to tell him anything besides demands.

Meanwhile, Tailor began to acquaint himself with the new environment as he attentively listened to Midas.

He placed his hands on the soft inner walls of the stomach, reassuring himself that it was, as Midas said,safe.

That he himself was safe and sound.

He let out an understanding hum as he adjusted himself, now laying on his back instead of curling into a small ball.

But it was when Midas drew the comparison between himself and a mother, that Tailor couldn't control his tears and began sobbing again.

“No… Boy, what made you cry again?” His Highness asked with worry.

“It's just… You have been my family, your highness, before I met you, I never felt loved by anyone…”

“But it all changed when I met you, even when you haven't told me that you cared for me,I knew that you did…”

“And now…now that I'm here, with you, within you, I just…”

“I don't deserve any of this…”

The boy said as he turned to the walls and hugged them.

“But it already happened, Boy…”

“You may as well cherish it while it lasts” Midas said, in an uncharacteristic, tender tone that made the boy heavily blush.

“Yes, Your highness… And thank you.”

“Now rest as I told you, I shall let you out in the morning.”

“Yes…Your highness…”

Tailor wiped his tears, the darkness and humidity of the area around him made him realize just how exhausted he is, it was impossible to resist the gentle lulling of the organ.

“This is between us,Got it, Little one?” There was the slightest hint of playfulness in his voice, which made the servant giggle.

“Got it.” Indeed, this was their little, special secret.

[perfectfangirl]

notes after rewatching fallout s1 ep1

so once again like a crazy person [i've done this with star wars sequels before] i've decided to take three and half pages of notes over the course of an hour. i've been a fan of the games for at least a decade and i'm actually always watching lore content between the installments though so while i do know some minute details, within the show, there was some things i was interested in and curious about that i just decided to jot down. some of this may be things discussed already and some of it might be something i wasn't sure if anyone brought up before but anyways! maybe i'll do the whole season, but here's my ramblings • them titling the episode "the end" was when i knew i'd love the show • ok but i really wonder if cooper can still do those party tricks? he was really good at them and lucy would probably love them too 🥺 • thinking back, the radio in the first scene mentions not knowing where the president is--- beginning to wonder if he was the guy sitting in on the vault tec meeting • just realized they introduced the mr. handy robot in some of the first scenes • ten years of nuclear threat according to anchor but the show is careful not to give away all the cards because why does the weather anchor make it seem like they know when the bomb will drop? idk but birthday boy mother turns off tv real "head in the sand" like • the nat king cole song that's playing though [wondering if the song is mirroring specifically cooper's feelings about barb despite everything hmm] • horse's name is sugarfoot 🥹 • him having to pay alimony... wonder what the prenup? was like... [still think he probably loves barb 😞]

• them calling him a pinko despite him being an architect of vault boy's persona, a quintessential presentation of a "man's man" acting as a cowboy, a real cowboy, a former marine--- wondering if there was a smear campaign after his situation with barb and vault tec, him working children's parties leads me to believe... • did the kid's say the birthday boy's name was boyd? [if so, there's another character in the games with this name and this is also the name of a character walton has played in another series, funny] • weather man show's up again distressed, wondering if we'll get more info about that day • everyone ignoring, cognitive dissonancing their own nuclear annihilation is so prescient if not disturbing and damning

• him teaching janey the thumb thing ☹️ • cooper's voice when he says "let me see if i can't rustle you up a piece" 😩 • janey being the only one to notice the first bomb • the fear in cooper's eyes • cooper being in denial one last time before realization sets in • people becoming animals the moment they realize what's happening--- one guy punches his friend not letting his family into the fallout shelter • people getting into their cars and cooper onto his horse to escape--- wonder how fast they could be since it doesn't seem you could outrun nuclear annihilation

• lucy being raised so well under the circumstances 😔 [hope she never becomes her father] • i haven't trusted steph since episode one • lucy being a teacher [amongst other things] and asking maximus about what happened after the bombs fell makes so much sense [and also much like another person suggested is an interesting juxtaposition to cooper's pre war knowledge] • lucy showing how skilled she is for being a marriage candidate when in reality we are seeing someone fit for the wasteland is crazy on second watch • is lucy not watching a cooper howard movie with her dad? hello??

• them reading "war and peace" in the family book club is rich • lucy [thinking] she's not good at guns, ironic • steph having to step in like a sisterly type because lucy's mom isn't there 😞 • the wedding dress on lucy being ill fitting, tight as symbolism for lucy not truly "fitting in there" and being constrained [foreshadowing] oof • the vault boy sign in the back saying "don't lose your head" lmao • didn't catch the "cousin stuff" until someone mentioned it on tumblr and twitter 💀

• the flashback we see of lucy ending up being almost a false memory, a misrepresentation of her actual memories, that she has been on the surface, in the sun • norm taunting lucy about her future husband being "anybody" and a "cannibal, crammed full of tumours" 😭 unfortunately for ghoulcy, this was some of the heaviest foreshadowing [the raider also could have been one too] • why didn't hank recognize moldaver? • so many things i still don't understand about vaults 31, 32, 33 • the growing realization they are raiders was pretty funny to me lmao

• moldaver having to sit through the disingenuous lies of hank ugh • norm going into vault 32 like they wanted them to know what was up? or is that just how vault doors work? they used lucy's mom's pip boy [that hank lied about burying] • lucy putting norm in a storage vault, she really is so strong • the handed down wedding dress getting messed up • i am curious if the raiders [shady sands survivors?] only mostly harmed vault tec aligners but maybe not • the way hank and steph retaliating a little too well • hank acting like he doesn't know moldaver when everyone really does know moldaver • moldaver telling lucy she looks like her mother is really such a tipoff

• realizing maximus is getting bullied 😭 • dane... might love maximus a little idk • from latrine duty to basically ruling over the brotherhood of steel • they really showed some dude jacking it lmao it's just normal i guess 💀 • maximus being defeated and having a rightful outburst of emotion, poor guy • the poster saying "the outside world can never harm you"--- funny • chet would've died up there 😭 • them not opening the vault back up for her, wondering if the vapourized bodies are from the initial bomb drop or the subsequent shady sands ones • dane almost gets maximus killed three times tbh • maximus joined the brotherhood of steel to get back at what vault tec did, essentially hank's doing, hank has many enemies • knowing the enclave, it makes sense why siggi is hunted • cooper the ghoul's introduction though • the bounty hunter saying his captors dig cooper up every once in a while to cut pieces of flesh off him 😞 no wonder cooper acts the way he does 😔 he's been taken advantage of, no wonder he doesn't trust anybody and is horrible to everyone • "why is this an amish production of "the count of monte cristo" or the weirdest circle jerk i've ever been invited to?" why would he say this 😭 • cooper's... been invited to circle jerks 👀 • does the bounty hunter know the ghoul is cooper howard?

• him not harming the chicken, him healing dogmeat, there's something there, folks • people only digging him up to use him again 😞 • what a coincidence he's dug up just as lucy leaves the vault • "i do this shit for the love of the game" he's a character, he's playing a character, real theatre kid • hence why cooper is introduced as "the ghoul", cooper is long gone • "us cowpokes, we take it as it comes" something about this lineee

[bucknastysbabe]

My puppy man is trained,,,

Rating: Explicit what’s new

Word Count: 1,544

Tags: 40’s au continued, BIG OLE SUB BUCKY, chubby!bucky, dom!afab!reader, lots of name calling and teasing, Degredation, ye olde butt stuff (m!receiving), begging, man tears, oral (m!receiving), he’s the whiniest of babies in this bad boy

A/N: I told y’all thoughts were incoming about those Bucky pics from CW I found also this gets kinda weird as in The Other Kink bleeds thru at times but hey I write smut for fun so LICK IT UP

Bucky was whining and whining for her attention, eyes shot red and glassy from tears. She turned a page in her book with a manicured hand. His wife was clad in only her undergarments, perfect body on display. The Sargeant eyed her legs, gasping in strung out pleasure.

Her red lips moved. Bucky had to really focus to understand, especially with his hips jerking into the pillow. “Horny puppy,” she laughed. He frowned in distress, a sad noise crawling up a raw throat. Bucky could barely think straight, even fucking his cock against the pillow was hard.

His frantic rocks against the silky thing were disjointed and sporadic— Bucky would stop to beg some more and fail. His balls hurt and the damn thing Buck’s pretty wife had shoved up his ass didn’t help. It grazed against his prostate on the right move, but the needy brunette really just wished it was something he could bounce on.

Bucky swallowed the drool in his mouth at the thought of having something heavy sitting on his sweet spot, crying out in a surprised manner. Her eyes flicked up at that, a questioning look on stern features. She asked, “Did something come up? Dumb puppy have a thought?”

He nodded desperately, lips unable to form anything besides another whine. Bucky’s mind was growing more scrambled by the second. She put down the book carefully, sitting up to peer at her mess of a husband. Oh fucking please, please, Buck thought.

Her victory red lips curled into a smirk as she crawled forward off the chaise lounge— slinking towards Bucky. His wife cooed, “What were you wanting sweet boy?” She watched him grab harder onto the pillow, shoving it firm between his trembling thighs.

The sargeant mewled, “Ah- hngh- I wan’!”

He couldn’t finish the rest of the sentence, too overcome and fuck dumb to talk. She giggled softly, pressing a thumb between his bite-swollen lips. Bucky sucked at the intruding digit eagerly, eyes peering wide up at his wife. She hummed, “Poor pup, can’t even talk, only good to hump and look pretty.” His eyes slid shut quickly, a frustrated moan echoing in the room.

“Let me guess, you want more up your greedy ass,” she said to Bucky’s excitement. He nodded and sucked harder on her thumb to show, yes, he really really really wanted that. She grabbed at the soft flesh on his side, teasing, “Always gotta have more huh sweetheart? Glutton.” Bucky blushed in hot shame, making his dick throb worse.

His wife had a point, he did over-do most things in life. His eyes flicked away as she continued in a low purr, “Never know when enough is enough. More work, more food, more sex.” He frowned deeper. Bucky’s currently very mean wife tutted and said, “C’mon then pup, turn around so I can fuck you.”

He peered up at her in confusion, her thumb sliding out from puffy lips, a thin string of drool connecting the two. “God, you’re clueless,” she patted a full cheek attentively, “On your back.” Bucky blushed in embarrassment. He truly was brain dead right now. The man’s wife always liked him to be exposed. He discarded the pillow slowly, rolling back to lay down.

Bucky was acutely aware of his flushed cock, soft belly, and stretched ass on display. He felt his whole body heat up at her predatory look, a hand planting on his hip with a rough squeeze. Bucky whined through his nose and shut his eyes tight. God- he was a mess but she made it feel so damn good.

“Spread em’ babydoll.”

He did so with a broken pant of her name, eyes still closed. The sargeant’s cheeks were flaming and probably matching her lipstick by now. Her other hand thumbed his nipple before sliding down to his belly. She mused, “Chubby pup.” Bucky trembled when she grabbed a handful of his softened tummy, nails digging in just so.

“F-fuck, god, please n-no,” he begged breathlessly.

She gave another possessive squeeze and let go. Bucky could breathe again, slightly. He’d get so overwhelmed when she’d tease about the extra weight, but he never made an attempt to work it off, because Bucky was apparently masochistic like that. Insanity really.

“You’re so pretty like this,” she commented, squeezing at a thigh, leaning forward to loom over him. Bucky couldn’t catch his breath, sounding like he’d run across the entirety of Brooklyn. She cooed, “Relax sweetheart, shh, I’ve got you, shh.” He laid his head back down and sucked in a breath to steady himself, focusing on her hand rubbing methodical circles on the softer inner thigh, dangerously close.

“You want me to open you now sweet pup? Such a good boy.”

Good boy. He was being good.

Bucky’s eyes pricked with tears, again. He whimpered uselessly, “P-pluh-ease.”

She pressed a kiss to Bucky’s knee, smiling real gentle and sweet at him. He stuttered on a breath, chest heaving when his wife eased the plug out of his ass. The tears ran down his full cheeks at the aching feeling of being empty, the sargeant blubbering about the horrid sensation. “I know, just a second baby,” she promised. Two of her fingers slid into the heat of his ass, moaning under her breath.

Bucky’s cock twitched at the sensation, mouth falling open on a weary cry. She scissored him for a bit before sliding in her ring finger with a soft coo, “So wet for me baby, lookit’ you.” He whined her name, spreading his legs wider and dragging fingertips into the wood floor. Bucky’s absent mind tittered about him making claw marks.

He definitely made scratches with his metal hand at the feeling of his wife’s hot mouth around his cock. Bucky arched into her touch, shouting when she found his swollen prostate. Her fingers rubbed slow circles into the sensitive gland while the woman’s tongue assaulted his tip. The brunette begged in a pitch that hurt his throat, “Ohh, baby, ohmygod, oh it feels s’good s’good please pl-please!”

He had no clue what he was begging for. Only that this felt like heaven and she was the angel. His wife bobbed her head along, fingers still making the maddening circles. Her free hand groped at Bucky’s thigh before cupping his sac and rolling. He arched painfully and shook, noises getting higher and higher, louder and louder. She pulled off his dick, Bucky choking on a breath.

She laughed, “Sound so damn cute. Put you behind a curtain and those SSR boys would think I was the one getting fucked.” Bucky brokenly whined again, sweet shame licking up his spine. Her hand lifted from his sac to jerk him off firmly, rambling in a raspy tone, “Yeah? You like that pup? Big strong Barnes is a whiny little slut when he gets something up his ass huh?”

His baby curled her fingers up harder with a grin. Bucky wailed, shaking his head to deny her words. Even if he was proving the point to be correct. She quickened her fist around his achy cock, purring, “Why are you lying baby? You can’t go more than two days without something in there.” Bucky sobbed softly, coming extremely close to that breaking point.

“Slut. That’s what you are,” she breathed over his sobbing lips, “You’re gonna cum from me telling you that.” Bucky rode her fingers in earnest, more of a jerky movement as he couldn’t figure out the hand and fingers thing. He moaned deep in his chest, “M’a slut, oh god, yes!” She pecked his wet lips and slid her thumb across his weeping slit.

“There we go. My greedy, soft, pretty slut. Wanna see you let go now sweetheart.”

The missus didn’t have to tell him twice, Bucky wailing again and painting his tummy and her hand with his spend. His thighs trembled and fingers scraped feverishly. The brunette couldn’t stop crying, his ass squeezing her fingers like a vice. She kept up the movement of her digits, hand sliding slick over his dick overwhelmingly.

“Fuck, Bucky, so precious,” she gasped in awe.

He finally sobbed from overstimulation, “S’too much s‘ much I’ve been good- hngh! N-no more!”

Her hands cleared from Bucky’s throughly used body, relocating to his belly and thigh. She whispered, “Such a good boy, came on my fingers like you were made for it.” Bucky could only respond with a breathless warble of nonsense, blue eyes lidded with exhaustion. He couldn’t even manage to bitch about his wife’s slim hand rubbing his pudgy belly. Bucky blinked away more tears, nuzzling her neck, panting.

“Do you want some water? Maybe I can draw a bath after huh baby?,” she asked slowly. Bucky held onto the words and finally nodded, his scrambled brain was still offline. His wife smiled and let him pull her flush on top of him, chiding him for getting her dirty. She said that with no heat, instead laying featherlight kisses and praises in Bucky’s ear.

She sighed, “I love you, my sweet Buck.”

Bucky clenched her closer and tapped back ‘I love you’ in Morse code, earning a delighted laugh from the woman. The Sargeant could truly say, he has it good, for once.

[silvermaplealder]

Star always confused me to her purpose in the movie. She never really struck me as "damsel in distress" because she never really seemed distressed. I wanted to look more into her character and figure out why she acted the way she did. And you know what? She had the perfect set up to be one of the antagonists...

My new theory: Star is actually one of the antagonists trying to manipulate Michael with David's help.

Star and David are platonic friends who are mutually benefiting from each other. However, she is also a minor antagonist who was manipulating Michael to get what she wanted: her own freedom. Michael was probably not the first one that she lured to the vampire den, though he was the last.

Star manipulates Michael to get protection against becoming a vampire. She doesn’t want to live as a vampire, and Michael is giving her an out. The reason David doesn’t seem to care is it benefits him too. Star brings home men who would “save her” and it would lead to the Lost Boys either getting a meal, or Star being freed. David wouldn’t care if she’s “freed” because the only way for her to really become free is if someone kills Max, which would benefit him. Either way works, and David doesn’t seem to be that attached to her as he is the rest of the boys. So David’s using Star as a lure for finding someone to kill Max and in return Star gets a roof (if you want to call it that…) over her head and support from the boys. It would make sense that David couldn’t give less of a crap when she sleeps with other men because he’s in a platonic relationship with her. This would also help make sense of the line “David wanted you to be my first.” David either 1) never said such a thing and it was a line Star made up to create tension between Michael and David or 2) was something David said to get Max pissed off and use Star as a scapegoat if she killed Michael. Either way, both benefit David. 

Whether David was into Michael (I believe he was hella thirsty, but I digress) would not have mattered because the events that took place were supposed to have been calculated: either David getting Michael as a vampire or Michael being killed. The biggest flaw of the plan was also the most important though- Star couldn’t know of Max and vice versa. If Star knew that Max existed, it would have jeopardized David’s plans. And if Max knew that Star existed, he’d know David was behind the whole thing. 

Star has some other lines within the movie that cover her if Michael ever became suspicious. Such when after David brought Michael to the bonfire, Star says she "tried to warn" Michael about the blood in the bottle, but everyone knew damn well that wasn't enough to stop him from drinking it. She also claims that it is "all her fault" and guilts Michael into helping her and Laddie in the end.

Another thing that always seemed odd to me was that Star knew where Michael lived... so did the boys. The boys must have told her. David knew where Michael lived at the very least because he brought Michael home after the bridge. Star also knew everything that was happening between Michael and the boys making it very plausible that she was working with David the whole time. There's also a fair chance that since she had decent control of her powers that she was able to stalk Michael in the house as well.

When it comes to the final battle, I find a couple things interesting. First, during the cave scene where they go to rescue Star and Laddie, Star is woken up when she's spoken to in a quiet voice. Earlier in the movie Michael is also woken up when spoken to. But when the vampires are in the cave upside down, none of them appear to wake up to voices or Sam's little scream. They only wake up at Marko's scream, which is... I mean loud but so are the kiddos. Y'all know my other head cannons about how I don't think that the boys really died... but I digress.

In the end, Star was just another antagonist who gained her freedom. We do know that they stayed together after the movie, so it would be that she ended up having feelings for Michael in the end.  The classic "went in without feelings and fell for the person" trope.

Tagging: @misslavenderlady @ria-coolgirl

[skyfallslayer]

The Darkness In Me || Story 3: Kingpin & Daredevil

-Kingpin!Matt Murdock x Vigilante!Reader-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🖤 Series Summary: You were shocked to find out your childhood friend turned out to be the Kingpin of the underworld, but you had to put those thoughts aside to bring him down. You were Hell’s Kitchen vigilante, its protector. There's no valid reason not to stop him. However, when your hidden feelings for him start to surface once more, how will you be able to even think about bringing him down?

🖤 Story Summary: Your night trying to save a kid takes a dangerous turn. Now fighting to stay alive after a possible life threatening injury, you soon find yourself face-to-face with the man that runs this city’s underworld: The Kingpin. Aka… your childhood friend.

🖤 Date: 12/06/23

🖤 Rating: Mature

🖤 Word Count: 12, 842 (Damn o-0)

🖤 Warning: Blood; Gore; Talks of Child Abuse; Child Death(s); Child Manipulation; Mental Break; Murdering and Allusion to Murder; Non Consensual Touching(?) Looks like it but its not); Seductive Talk; Implied Seductive Manipulation; Slight Karedevil; Implied Frank/Karen: Past Killing of a Love One; Talks of Betrayal; Death of a Love One; Dark!Matt; Yeah, Matt gets a fucking warning in this one (I mean, he ain't the Kingpin for nothing); Russian & Japanese Via Google Translate (not super accurate, I apologize). READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

-Let me know if I missed anything-

🖤 A/N: Oh boy, this was tough but fun to write! Hopefully nothing is too overwhelming for y'all. Alrighty then… we're finally getting to Matt's POV of things, which I honestly think I enjoyed writing more than reader's (*le gasp*). But yeah, here's a bit of the flirty and charming Matt Murdock we all know and love with a dash of darkness. Enjoy!

There’s no fucking way this was real. Was the first thing you thought. Maybe it was the next one. Or the next one, or– Oh, geez. You really didn’t know what to think. 

Here you are thinking the whole time that he’s the same as you; That despite your rough childhoods, you both managed to put the nightmares aside and build the life you guys wanted. You both had your hopes and dreams, you both got the jobs you desired, you both made a friend that had your back. But now…

You don’t know when or where or how this even happened. You don’t know why he’s on this route. You don’t know why you just watched him kill a man for screwing up his ‘responsibility’. You don’t even know what to think of this situation, what to think of…

Him.

Matthew Murdock, Your childhood friend; The person you were starting to feel more for. The person that was none other than–

.

.

.

The King of Darkness himself.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| Four Days Ago || 

The doors slammed simultaneously, the both of you sighing as you laid back in the chair as your partner, Frank, rests his forehead against the steering wheel before lightly tapping it a few times. Your mornings had started off with a call of distress from an elderly man claiming that he had been robbed. Turns out, the poor man just had dementia. So after a talk with his son who stepped out to run an errand, they ended up back her with slight annoyance. 

Frank sighs again, finally bringing his head up. “I know he has health problems, but still… you think your stuff’s gone and you call 911?” 

“Yeah…” You rub your eyes, dark circles dusting them. “This is going to be a long day.”

“Of course it will be.” He starts the car, sitting up straighter. “Breakfast?”

“Please.” Like you could turn that down after not eating anything for a few hours straight.

He pulls away from the curb, driving in the direction of a local diner that he’s mentioned a few times. “So, Y/N… how are you adjusting to the move?” He said at his attempt at small talk (he didn’t speak much if he didn’t need to, you noticed, so I guess you could say this was a good sign).

“Me? I’m actually doing pretty good. I know how Hell’s Kitchen ticks so–” You shrugged. “Except for when some of the places I’ve been to have disappeared, I didn’t really need to adjust to anything.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been to Hell’s Kitchen before?”

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Oh, shit. I guess I didn’t tell you. I was born here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I lived here till I was eight.”

“Damn. So it’s been awhile.”

“Yep.”

“What made you move away in the first place?” Frank asked, making you pale. But he didn’t seem to notice since his eyes were on the road. “Y/N?”

“Uh, well…” You frown thinking about that day. You sigh, trying not to play with your hands like you were a kid. “My parents passed. Car accident, uh– Truck ran a red light and hit up straight on.”

“Oh, my god.” He begins, and you hold your hand up.

“Before you apologize for asking, don’t. You didn’t know.” 

“Yeah, but still.” He frowns worriedly. “You were… eight? That’s rough.”

“It was, but I had to accept it pretty quickly when I moved to California with my Aunt and Uncle.” You explain, feeling your heart clench at one of the names.

“Quickly?”

“My Aunt wasn’t the nicest woman.”

Frank scoffed, but not at you, but at everything else. “I got to hand it to you, Y/N, you turned out pretty well. To me, your story sounds like the makings of a villain’s origin.”

You chuckled. “So I’m not the only one to have that thought.” You reply, half joking as the car pulled into an open spot.

“I mean it though.” Frank says, turning the engine off. “You’re strong. Stronger than you think. I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost my family like that.” He opens his door. “Alright. Enough depressing shit. Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

You snort. “What? Did you not eat before your shift last night?” 

“You think I know how to cook?” He smirks. “I leave the cooking to someone else.”

“I could see that.” You teased, following him inside.

“Well it’ll be dinner when our shifts are over. We should get burgers.”

“I wish I could. Unfortunately I got dinner plans with friends.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Oh, Y/N!” Foggy shouts as soon as he spots you, standing up and waving you over. “So glad you could make it.”

“Well thanks for the invite.” You said, with a smile, hoping the makeup you put on hid how tired you were (Seriously, why did you talk yourself into being a vigilante and a cop at the same time?).

“Y/N, this is Marci.” He said, gesturing to his lovely wife, who shakes your hand.

“Hello, Marci. It’s finally nice to meet you.” 

“Likewise.” Marci said as you guys took a seat. “I swear, he talks about you more than Matthew does.”

“Hey, she gives me all the juicy details my dear friend leaves out. That’s all.” Foggy defends, making her roll her eyes playfully.

You chuckle. “So, speaking of the devil. Where is he?”

He frowns, almost feeling like it was somehow his fault. “Unfortunately, poor Matty can’t make it tonight.”

“No?” You copy his expression. “How come?”

“Says he’s got something important to do.” He sighs dramatically. “I swear he’s got some weird night time hobby. He’s always disappearing.”

“Sounds like something he would do.” You smirk as the joke rolls off your tongue. “You think he’s a secret mob boss or something?”

“Honestly, I was thinking more like Batman, but wouldn’t be surprised with that either.” Foggy said with a shrug, before picking up his menu. “Now, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

“Never heard that one before.” Marci said, hiding her laugh.

“Hey.”

This was nice. You finally made some acquaintances that you could now call your friends. Although this dinner would be a bit bittersweet without Matt, you couldn’t complain, you were just glad you were here, living the moment.

However…

Deep down…

.

.

.

You still wonder what he’s doing.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Punch. Punch.

.

“Is something going on with you? You know you can always talk to me.” Foggy said, clasping his friendly hand onto his shoulder with a warm smile.

.

Punch. Punch.

.

“I thought you were supposed to help me.” Wilson Fisk said as he stared in disbelief from across the table; his hands were aching to strangle his lawyer as they stayed handcuffed to the metal flat top.

“But I am helping you.” Matt replies, his calm complexion suddenly morphed into something wicked that even made the ex-mob boss shiver in his seat. “The Defense is just doing a better job than me.”

.

Punch. Crack. Punch.

.

“You’ve done a wonderful job, Matthew.” The older woman, who happened to be the leader of assaination group that took him in, Alexandra Reid, smile so proudly at him as she grasps his shoulders. “You… are the most perfect soldier I’ve seen in a long time.” She chuckles. “Go spread chaos, my love.”

.

Punch. Crack. Pain. Whine. Punch.

.

“You fight well, kid.” His old and blind mentor said, making his heart skip with pride until… “But not well enough. You disappointment.”

.

Punch. Pain. Pain. Whine. Pain. Punch.

.

“Is Mama really gone?” Matt croaked as held his father’s hand, laying in bed as his head started to go numb from the medicine. But he didn’t need sight to know what expression his dad was making.

“Yeah, Matty. She is.”

.

Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch. Crack. Punch. Punch.

.

“You really are leaving?” He asked, watching his best friend’s face morph into hurt and sadness.

“Yeah. I am.” You could feel yourself starting to cry. “But I don’t want to.”

He grabs your hand, holding it tight. “Then don’t. I don’t want to lose you. Don’t go.”

“Matty, I don’t have a choice. I have to go.”

.

Matt lets out a low growl as keeps pounding his fists over and over into his ‘sparring’ partner. In the boxing ring he had the man backed into one of the corners, flat on his bottom as blood sprayed everywhere; small bone fragments starting to stick out of his bruised flesh too, But he didn’t care. This was just someone he could easily replace, so he picked up the speed, turning the dial full. Striking over, and over, and over, and over again. And again. And again. And again. And–

“If you don’t stop you’ll cripple him. Or worse.” The blond Karen Page, his advisor, said as she entered the room, making him pause for a second.

“Should I care?” Matt snipped, voice sounding like acid that could melt anything it touches.

Karen’s jaw clenched, but she kept her composure. “You should care, seeing that our number of men is declining. Fast.”

Matt groans and punches the man again, surely KO-ing him this time. “I turn my head away for one second, and my men just disappear in a blink of an fucking eye. They’re all ending up on police departments’ doors so fast, It’s not even safe enough to let them go without some suspicion. Fuck!” He kicks him in the shin, getting a crack. “It’s all because of that fucking asshole in a mask! Do you have any idea where he came from?”

“No, sir. I asked around. Nobody knows. And the reports I… ‘borrowed’ shows that there’s no reports of a mutant, or superpowered individual other than Ghost-Spider in the last ten years or so.”

Matt pauses, thinking. “You think they come from out of state?” 

“It’s a possibility.” Karen quickly notices his silence. “Someone comes to mind, sir?”

“No. I was over stepping.” He sighs, holding out his hand as he’s thrown a towel. “Did the delivery arrive smoothly like I asked?”

“It’s on its way. Should be there soon.”

“Good.” He throws the towel around his neck. “I need a shower, and send someone to bandage him.”

“Shall I tell the driver the penthouse or regular?”

Matt pauses again for another second. “Regular. I need to go to work tomorrow.”

“Very well then. I’ll call him now.” Karen bows his head. “Goodnight, Sir.”

“Likewise.” He says, while exiting the ring and into the locker room, still burning with rage that keeps on growing. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Stretching out in your new pajamas, you casually let yourself float around your apartment, excitement (or I guess pride) ran through your veins as you read the next article about your alter ego ‘Daredevil’. The local news lately has been flooded with nothing but articles about you. The next one made you grin, some twenty year old blogger was geeking out how fast you were in some reports and sightings.

You chuckle, lips curling in a smirk. “Damn right, I’m fast.” You didn’t have enhanced speed for nothing. Besides that, you were also cursed gifted with levitation, superhuman reflexes and stamina, and lastly, psionics; Something that you can manipulate in many different ways. It wasn’t as glorious as when your mother would do it, but you were trying.

I wonder how Uncle Pietro would have felt if he knew I had his speed. You frown, shaking your head when a gruesome memory crosses your mind.

Gosh. Why am I living so much in the past all of sudden? Why is everything flooding in quickly? You’ve been pretty good about not reliving your past over the years, but now… you can’t seem to get away from it.

I wonder why? You perk up when a knock comes from your door. You rotated slowly and gently landed on your bare feet, trekking across the room.

“Coming!” You call out, fixing your top before opening the door. You were met with a familiar sight, just like when you had moved in you saw the white vase at your feet filled with the same color and number of Roses. Looking around with caution again, you saw no one before picking it up, plucking the note off one of the stems. This time it just had a single word which was–

‘Sorry.’

You furrow your brows. “What the fuck?” Did whoever sent them know that you were down to your last rose? Did this person know that getting these was intriguing to you? Did they know that this was secretly creeping you out as well?

You scoffed out loud.

Hell…

Why the fuck were you hanging onto the roses if they were driving you crazy anyway?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Matt does his best the next day to hide the cuts on his hands, and bruises lingering on his body. Although he’s grown used to the smell of blood staining his flesh, he knows everyone else around him is not (And being a blind man certainly didn’t help his cause). He got dressed like usual, skipping the red suit for his normal, freshly pressed, black one. He slips on his shades, grabbing his cane and briefcase by the door before stepping outside; One of his men standing there just like always. Dressed in what looked like a ‘caretaker’ outfit, he puts on the bubbly personality he was instructed to do.

“Morning, Mr. Murdock.” 

“Morning, Anthony.” 

“Taxi’s here like you requested.” 

“Perfect.” Matt starts walking with his men a quarter step behind. Now since they’re out in public, it’s time to start speaking in code. “Still having dinner with the family later?”

“That’s the plan, but you know Brently and his boys are. They’re probably out adventuring around here, waiting to give me a scare.” His response made Matt mentally smile. 

His bodyguards were in their posts like they should be. “Well, we wouldn’t want that for you.” He plays along, feeling for the door handle before pushing it open to the outside world.

“Oh, and don’t forget, you have a doctor’s appointment tonight. A follow up.”

A meeting. He almost forgot about the meeting he set up weeks prior. “Ah, almost slipped my mind.” Matt admits, opening the taxi door to get in but—

The smell is what threw him off. This scent was completely different than what he was used to.

“Where ya heading to, sir?” The driver spoke, which was another unfamiliar thing. 

He frowns, hiding his worriedness. “Mr. Richards?”

“Mr. Richards’ sick. I’m taking his place today.”

And that makes Matt grow quiet, letting his other senses kick in. Other than the scent, he could hear the steady heartbeat slowly start to spike, the knuckles tightening their hold on the steering wheel, and the smell of ink lingering on the man’s neck. Now he’s realized what’s going on.

Sliding back outside, sensing his bodyguard looking at him with concern. “It’s a shame, Mr. Richards is sick.” Matt said, acting like he was scratching his neck but in reality was a signal. His bodyguard trails his eyes subtly inside, confirming what Matt thought the tattoo was. 

A logo for a rebel gang in the area. A real pain in his side, always gutting for him. I guess he should have seen this coming sooner.

“It is. I hope he feels better.” His bodyguard said, still with a smile. “Will you be taking a stroll instead?”

“I will.” Matt pushes away from the vehicle, heading in the direction he needed to go. “Just make sure you take out the trash for me.”

“Of course. I’ll see you later Mr. Murdock.”

Matt listened as his bodyguard shut the back door before getting in the passenger, and took out his side arm, politely telling him to drive. He wishes he could go back and laugh in his ‘kidnapper’s’ face. He’s been in this business long enough to know who he trusts and who he can gut. Even though it can be tiring…

The monster inside him sometimes enjoys the thrill of it all.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

He sighs when the knob doesn’t turn, and starts fishing around for his keys; His pocket was like a void sometimes. He brushes off your scent and footsteps as being part of his tired mind, so it still surprised him when you suddenly appeared next to him.

“Wow, look who’s late.” You say, with a cheeky look.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” He asked, pausing his actions (guess he should stop brushing the thought of you off).

“Thought I stopped by on my patrol of the neighbourhood. I brought bagels.” You hold the piping hot food up. “And if you’re wondering why the door’s still locked, Foggy had… lots to drink last night.”

He raises an eyebrow. “How hungover is he?”

“Well, not sure on that, but he did call me three times in the middle of the night to talk about the Yankees and how Darth Vader would be great at the sport.”

He chuckles. “Oh. So he’s that drunk.” He finally unlocks and opens the door. “I’ll make coffee.”

You smiled. “Sounds good to me.” 

He started the machine and you walked around again, being nosy as usual. The office still had its characteristics about it, enough to know what side was Matt’s and what side was Foggy.

God, I’ve spent too much time around them. You spotted a stack of papers nearby, printed on it is what looks like an ad and you let your curiosity get the best of you on this one.

“You going to start standing on street corners and pass these out?” You asked, before realizing you didn’t phrase it right. “Sorry. The fliers, I mean?”

He smiles. “I thought that’s what you meant. No, Foggy thought it’d be a good idea to get the word out more.”

“Is business not good or something?” You asked, worriedly. For being in a building like this you thought they had to be doing good. 

“Don’t worry, we are. But we want to branch out more. Marci’s job allows her to travel around New York City, so we’re going to have her put some up whenever she gets the chance.”

“Well that’s good.” You look back at it, admiring the work until something catches your eye. You noticed that each of the men had signed their names on the bottom right above the printed version of it, a nice warm idea to show how ‘cozy’ this place was. But that’s not what was stopping you; There was something… oddly familiar about Matt’s penmanship. 

Where have I–

“Coffee’s ready.” Matt announces, coming out from the kitchenette with two cups.

You smile, subconsciously folding the paper and tucking it away. “Thanks.” You take a sip, the cheap coffee actually tasting pretty good this time around. Then, you noticed something else about him, something more troubling as you jump into action. “You’re bleeding.” 

That catches him off guard. “What?”

“You’re bleeding.” You set your cup down before he could speak and roll up his sleeve. You noticed the deep gash on his forearm, not too big, just deep. You furrow your brows concernedly. “How’d you get this cut?”

Matt keeps his cool, the lie he tells rolls off his tongue with ease. “Curse of a blind man. Can’t see where I’m going.”

“Let me fix you up. Where’s the first aid kit?”

“Y/N, you don’t have to.”

“I want to. Where is it?”

“Y/N–”

“Don’t be a brat, Matty.” You slap him in the shoulder, holding back a laugh. “Where is it?”

Now he seems like he was trying to do the same thing. “Really? You’re bringing that name back?” He asked as you hum and nod. “Well… peaches, it’s under the sink.”

“Pfft.” You slap him again as you pass and mumble, “Can’t believe that name is still haunting me.” You grab the kit and examine his arm again, taking a better look. “Looks deep. I could stitch it up?”

“Nah, don’t bother. It’ll heal.” Matt says, trying to calm the nerves he could hear in your voice.

“But it’s deep. I really should.”

“Y/N, it’ll heal. Trust me. Just bandage it.” 

You comply against your better judgment, and start cleaning it up first. “You got some superpower I don’t know about?” You asked, ironically.

“Hmm, maybe, I don’t know.” He grins. “Wouldn’t little peaches like to know that.”

“Oh, my god. Stop.” You blush a bit. “You’re never going to let that go.”

“What? Like I said the last time, I think it’s adorable.”

“No, it’s not.” You shake your head, all embarrassed as you start applying the bandages. “What would you think if I started calling you ‘Bratty-Matty’ again?”

He chuckles, making your heart flutter. “You already did a few times.”

“In public.”

“Oh, well—”

“See? You’ll hate it.”

“No, not necessarily.”

You pause. “Huh?”

“Well, you know, in today’s environment it’s kind of–” His free hand tugs on your badge around your neck, getting closer. “Kinky.”

“Kinky?” You said, with a flush face and slightly intrigued (completely unaware that he could hear your heart racing with excitement). “I didn’t think little… Catholic Matthew Murdock would be into those things.”

His pulse skipped a beat, feeling your hand gently brush the injured one. “Well, we were just children so… we wouldn’t talk about adult stuff now, would we?”

“Oh, certainly not.” You feel his chest press against yours as he closes the gap. “You… like to talk about that stuff?”

“Only with the people I really admire.”

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” His hand creeps up to the back of your neck, gently bracing you. 

You couldn’t help but moan a little from it, drawing a seductive smile from him. “Matty…”

“I kind of want to share that with you.” He whispers, trying to lock his lips to yours and–

Your walkie suddenly crackles, an order coming through.

You blush. “Sorry.” You reply, trying to unclip from your belt as he steps away to give you space.

“It���s okay.” He says, listening to you ask the operator to repeat and you to take it.

You sigh. “Geez, I’m sorry, Matt. I’ve got to go.”

“No, no. It’s okay. You’re still on duty.” 

“Okay. Thanks.” You start to leave, until you feel him get close to you again (and looking flustered once more).

Matt rubs the back of his neck like a nervous tick. “Hey, uh… would you like to… catch up some more? Just the two of us? Like… over dinner?”

Now it was your turn to be caught off guard. “Dinner?” You asked, making sure you heard that correctly. “Like uh… like a date?”

“I was thinking more of a play-date, maybe?” He replies with a half shrug.

“A play-date, huh?” You raise your eyebrow, grinning. “And where would this play-date partake?”

“Oh, I was thinking maybe that Sicilian place in that hotel off 5th?”

“That’s quite the restaurant. You sure?”

“My treat.”

“Alrighty then, hot shot. I’ll see you seven. I’ll wear something nice.”

“You could wear pajamas and I wouldn’t care.” He listens to you laugh a wave goodbye, standing in the doorframe of his office until he hears you no more. His expression fades away into something more serious now. “Brently.”

The office across the way, which was ‘up for lease’, opened up to one of his bodyguards who was awaiting a task. “You called, Boss?”

“Call Karen and tell her to move the meeting I have tonight to tomorrow.”

Brently’s face stays the same, but his tone shifts to concern. “Sir, would that be wise? I mean, they’ve been waiting weeks to have a word from you. You sure they won’t lash out?”

“They should know enough to not even try that. If not, handle it. Understood?”

“Understood.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Did Castle disappear again?” You asked an officer as you entered the office, noticing that he was not lounging around where his desk was. 

“Probably. I haven’t seen him all morning.”

“Figures.”

Seriously, where does he run off too? You should probably ask him, I mean he trusts you enough to tell you, right? You head into the women’s locker room, heading to the row in the back. You quickly examine to see if your lock has been tampered with before putting your bag inside. It’s kind of sad you had to watch you back here, a place you should feel the safest but you don’t. You lock it back up as you hear the door being opened, sounding like two officers coming inside, chatting.

“-surprised she’s not dead yet.”

“I know, right? I’m still amazed.”

You roll your eyes at the gossip and how they sounded like they were teenagers in high school. “Oh, boy…” You whisper, and start to leave, but–

“I wonder what Lieutenant Y/N did to the Boss for him to spare her so far.”

You froze, breath caught in your throat.

Wait, what? 

“I mean, how long has she been here with us? A month? Two?”

“That sounds about right.”

“I mean, she’s survived a lot longer than we expected. Remember Captain Trevor? He refused to follow the program and guess what? A day and a half later he was dead. Bullet embedded in his skull and they ruled it a suicide, but we all know what it is.”

“Yeah.” A sigh, and the next words were like a knife to your heart. “I feel bad for Castle. A hardened soldier like him still felt guilty about doing it. You could see it in his eyes.”

“Yeah. Poor Trevor too. He was young. Castle probably saw his own son in him.”

“Man, this sucks. How has the Lieutenant been living this long?”

“That’s what I’m saying. There’s got to be something to it.”

“I believe it.”

You continue to listen as they talk about something else before grabbing something out of their lockers and leaving. The whole time you had your hand cupped over your mouth, your face went pale. Frank had told you briefly about his ‘program’ kill but…

You didn’t think it would hit so deep. Now all you could think about now was–

.

.

.

Why were you still alive?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You wore a cap sleeve red dress for your date, accompanied with black heels and a purse. You kept your makeup kind of light, and decided to style your hair long today with an exception of a clip for looks. Just as you finished putting some perfume on, you were surprised when you found Matt already at your door.

“Matty?” You said, taken back.

“The one and only.” Was his response, hold out his arm for you to take. “Ready to go?”

You knock yourself out of your trance (that of shock and how good he looked tonight) and lock the door. “Yeah, of course.” You take his arm and you both guide each other around down the apartment stairs.

“You smell good, by the way.” 

You blush. “Thanks.” Then you mentally slap yourself. “I just realize you can’t see what I’m wearing.”

“I can feel.” He fingers brush the fabric. “Silk?”

“I got it years ago when my precinct was doing this charity-gala event, and haven’t worn it since. It’s red by the way.”

“Ah. I always liked that color on you. Cherry?”

“Apple.” You answered as you get to the last step when the thought from earlier comes back. “Hey, how did you know where I lived?”

“You told me one time.” Matt replies, masking his panic pretty well (God, how did he forget that?).

“I did?” 

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” Maybe it was all those third shifts you’ve been doing lately. “You must have a better memory than I do, ‘cause I don’t.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The restaurant was… way more fancy than you thought it was going to be. I know Matt said he’d treat you but Jesus H. Christ this place was way above your pay grade. The materials they used and decorations you could see knew they were attached to triple digits, and when a menu doesn’t bother showing you the price for something, you knew you were out of your league.

Now I feel kind of guilty mooching off of him. You thought, knowing he was a lawyer but still. Could he really afford this?

“Here’s some glasses for the wine.” Your server said, gently placing them on the table. You quickly now noticed the the brace on his forearm and out curiosity, you asked,

“Your hand okay?” 

“Oh, this? Yeah I’m fine. Lucky actually. I was getting mugged the other day.” He says, and you suddenly realize why he looked so familiar. 

“That’s awful. Sorry to hear that.” Matt replies, as the waiter shrugs.

“Like I said, I was lucky. Thank god that vigilante was nearby. Saved my ass. Just wished I could have thanked him.” You couldn’t help but smile a little while Matt mumbled something incoherent as he continued tracing his fingers over the braille menu.

What’s up with him? You wondered, before tuning back into what your waiter was saying.

“-So, have we decided what we’re eating tonight?” He asked, and the two of you placed your orders before handing the menus back. “I’ll have that out for you shortly.”

“Still not sold on Daredevil?” You asked, pouring a glass of wine for the both of you. 

He thanks you before answering, “Like I said, I just want the right guy to pay.”

“And you think he’s not doing a good job?”

“Well the media thinks he is. I’m not so sure myself sometimes. But I’ll admit, I admire how persistent he is.”

You pause before tilting your head, confused. “Persistent? What do you mean by that?” You took note how he looked like a deer in a headlight just as your waiter came out with the appetizers. By then the subject was changed, something less ‘intense’ and more lighthearted. And by the time your main courses came the two of you were laughing and enjoying yourself, feeling like you two were kids again. 

“Oh, man. I can’t believe you guys actually did that.” You said, mixing around your carbonara with your fork. “How did you and Foggy not get expelled?”

“Good…” He chuckles. “Good question. We really should have, to be honest.”

You hum, staring at him for a minute before feeling a twinge of guilt. You wanted to ask him something that’s been bugging you for a while, and you were not sure if it was the appropriate time or not. You set your utensil down, nervously. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“It’s… kind of a debbie-downer.”

“You know I’ll answer it, Y/N.” He says, reassuring. “Shoot.”

Backing out crosses your mind, but you managed to encourage yourself to finally ask, “Why did you stop writing letters to me?” And then you saw his expression again, one that you didn’t know how to place. Why was he so surprised you were asking him certain things tonight? 

You watch him set his own fork down, eternally debating with himself as he takes a deep breath.

“Listen… Y/N, I–”

The sound of something shattering caught both of your attentions, followed by hush voices before it got really loud.

“I know he’s in here! I recognized his cars outside! His people!” A man shouted, his thick accent lingering. A worker shouted at him to get back as he entered the dining hall, catching everyone’s eye now.

“What’s going on?” You said, missing the way the brunette clenches his fists (‘Cause unlike you, he knew exactly who this was).

“I know you’re in here! Тащи сюда свою задницу, ублюдок!” (*Get your ass over here, Bastard!)

“What the hell is babbling about?” You asked, recognizing it was Russian, but didn’t understand it. You watched him get pulled away by a few people, still shouting and kicking like a child throwing a fit. “What do you think that was all about?”

Matt’s hands twitched and ached in his lap, unbeknownst to you. “Um… I don’t–” But then his phone rings, this time you could see the bit of annoyance on his features as he pulls it out.

[‘Brently. Brently. Brently.’]

The automatic voice chimed over and over until he picked it up.

“Sorry. Let me take this.” He says, before you have any say. “Hello?” You watch him talk, the annoyance on his face seemed to progress that was starting to rub off on you. “Alright, then.” He hangs up with a sigh.

“Who’s Brently?” You asked, slightly irritated (and you would be more if he knew he was going to lie next).

“Uh, client. Um, he’s in some legal trouble, I, uh… gotta go bail him out.” Matt replies, scooting his chair back.

You blink in surprise. “What?” 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I gotta take responsibility for this.”

“To bail your client out?” He shakes his head, causing you more confusion. “Doesn’t he have a family? Why did you call you to bail him out?”

“Well, I’m… his lawyer, and he calls me so it falls on me.”

Now that just sounded like a load of bull to you. You frown. “So? Make him wait, or call Foggy then. We’re–”

“Foggy’s out with Marci. Don’t want to bother him.” Matt says, cutting you off.

“And we’re not… out? Together? Like him and his wife?”

“Y/N, I’m really sorry, I’ll make it up to you, but this is important.”

Now that got your blood boiling. “And this is not?” You asked, standing up yourself and walking away with him calling out your name like a broken record.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Matt was really surprised that you let him even open the taxi door for you, but he knew you weren’t looking his way with your arms cross and head down with rage (he honestly couldn’t fucking blame you for acting like this). He then walked around and told the driver your address, and told him to drive safe which he complied.

“You Mr. Richards son?” He asked in a low tone that you couldn’t hear.

“Yes, I am.”

“Is he doing better?”

“A little banged up, but he’s alright. Should be back in a few days, Sir.”

“Good.” Then he made a face that makes anyone’s skin crawl. “You make sure nothing happens to her, or I’ll gut inside out and mail it to your dad as a ‘get well’ gift. Understood?”

The driver pales and nods before driving away. Matt then gets in a black tinted SUV, fuming in his seat as his bodyguard rolls the privacy screen down to talk.

“Page has Mr. Anatoly, Boss.” 

“Where are they heading?” He asked, hands aching again as he bounces his leg to confine his anger inside. 

“Usual spot. Shall I drive you over there?”

“Yes.” A grin. “Please.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Here’s a twenty.” You said, as the taxi pulled up to your apartment. “Just keep the change.”

“Uh, no need, uh… Your date paid for it.” The driver explained, waving it off.

You roll your eyes. “Of course he did.” You mumbled, getting out of the vehicle quickly as he bid you goodnight. Well…

That had to be one of the worst dates you’ve ever been on (and you’ve been on a lot). You threw your purse on the kitchen counter, kicking off your heels somewhere in the dark hall before sliding down to a sitting position against the wall. You get that he had an important client, but did he really have to take priority over him rather than spending a nice evening with you? Or better question… Why did he look like you caught off guard so many times tonight? 

What are you hiding, Matt? And that was a question that was burning like candle light.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Karen was sitting in the back of another SUV listening to how Anatoly, the Russian mob member, went on and on about something (to be frank, she was only half listening).

“You were right to reach out to us, although, since we’re being truthful, a call would have been more appropriate.” Karen explains, feeling slightly sorry about what was going to happen to this man.

“Look, I… I wanted to speak with him in person. Try to put the past behind us.” The Russian said, getting a hum which was right on cue for the vehicle to stop. “Why are we stopping?”

“They say the past is etched in stone, but it isn’t. It’s… smoke trapped in a closed room, swirling, changing. Buffeted by the passing of years and wishful thinking.” Karen starts poetically saying. “But even though our perception of it changes, one thing remains constant. The past can… never be completely erased. It lingers. Like the scent of burning wood. And it’s my job as his advisor to make sure everything just… lingers.”

Anatoly gives her a strange look, which Karen ignored to answer a call.

“Sir?” She said, listening closely. “Yes, passenger side.”

“Was that him?” The Russian asked, hopeful.

“Yes. He’d like to have a word with you.”

Anatoly nods and mumbles something in his native tongue seconds before the door flies wide open. To his shock, an angry Matt Murdock reaches inside and yanks him out, throwing him viciously on the ground. 

“You embarrassed me.” Matt snarls, even with his shades on you knew there was bloodlust in those blind pupils. “You fucking embarassed me infront of her!” And throws a punch.

They both exchange some hits, equally spilling some blood, however, at one point, Anatoly pulls out a knife, swinging it defensively. What thought could do some damage, he ends up seeing the Kingpin’s suit was barely touched by the blade.

Surprising him again, Matt had him pinned against the vehicle, breaking his wrist the weapon was in. “Мне бы хотелось, чтобы ты просто позвонил. Я бы дал тебе пропуск. Но нет…” He hisses, cradling the sides of the Russian’s head (*I wish you had just fucking called. I would have given you a pass. But no…). “Ты только что выкопал себе чертову могилу.” (*You just had dug your own fucking grave.)

He then starts banging his head on the side of the car a few times before tossing him back at the ground. Anatoly desperately tries to crawl to the car, begging Karen to help in Russian, but Matt’s advisor made no movements that she would at all. Instead, Matt drags Anatoly by his hair, laying him between the floor and the door…

Then slams it hard.

And over.

And over.

And over.

And over.

And over again.

As blood bathed the concrete with its glorious red color, Matt never stopped until his enemy’s head was completely taken off. 

Inhaling heavily, body still tense as Karen walks over carefully, offering her Boss her handkerchief.

“Tell Mr. Potter, I’ll need a new suit.” Matt said after a moment, and wiped his face clean.

Karen nods with a hum. “What about this?” She asked, gesturing to the body behind them.

“Keep it. Freeze it. Let his brother worry for a few days, and will pull the cards if we have to.”

“Which cards, if I may ask?” 

“Send it to Vladimir to show who really runs this city, or…”

.

.

.

“We blame it on Daredevil.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Alright, listen up. Last night, a father was driving home with his son until they were surrounded by unidentified men.” Your police chief said as you all were gathered around the office. You knew by how tense he was this was going to be some tough news to swallow. “Those men beat the poor dad and kidnapped the kid. Griffin Banks. Eight years old, he has curly brown hair and brown eyes; about 5 feet tall, 86 pounds, and was last seen wearing his little league uniform. Your jobs are to find him quickly and bring him home safe. Understood? – Great. Off you all go!”

And then all of you scattered like ants, hopefully to get some kind of lead, some kind of evidence of where he was but… 

“This shit’s going nowhere.” Frank complained, after a few hours of tiredly searching. You couldn’t blame him for complaining about this, because you too were feeling the same way.

If only I had heard about this last night when I was on the street. I could have been looking already. You went out as Daredevil last night to clear your head after that disastrous date and didn’t come across any crime or hear anything to spark your interest. You thought that was a good thing, you thought maybe the criminals finally understood that you weren’t leaving, but now you realize that the reason was entirely different. 

Did everyone in the underworld know about this kid? Was this an act of war or treason? You still weren’t a hundred percent sure how everything ran, but you did know that not everyone in the shadows worked or agreed with the Kingpin, so maybe this was a way to get back at him.

But why an innocent kid of all things? 

“Let’s try around the park again.” You said, heading back for the car.

“Again? Y/N we just came from there.” Frank said, as you shake your head.

“Maybe we missed something. I want to check.”

“Y/N. Hey, wait. Y/N–” He grabs you by the shoulder to stop you from entering his car. “Wait. Look, I know you want to catch this guy, I get it, but we can’t keep going back to the same place over and over again, it’s not doing us any good.”

“Yeah, but what if we’re missing something?” You asked, forming a look of desperation in your eyes that means so much more. So much more that he actually understands it.

His face softens. “Y/N, I know that look, you’ve been through this before haven’t you?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, breaking eye contact. “I just want him to be alright. I couldn’t save the last one.” You explain, voice quivering at the end.

“Hey, I get it. We all have a similar case every once and while, and it gets to us. I understand how you feel. However, if you keep running in circles, and getting inside your head, you’re not going to be able to do much. You’re going to make the same mistakes.”

“I know, but–”

“Go take a break. Go clear your head, then come back to the precinct.”

“Frank–”

“There are a hundred or so other officers looking for this kid. You can take a rest.”

“Frank–”

“Please.”

And how could you say ‘no’ when Frank reminded you of your old partner Max here? He was making the same thoughtful, worried expression that made you want to break and asked for a hug. 

You wanted to say ‘no’, to show them both that you could handle it, to show that you’ve grown but… You can’t.

You haven’t grown one bit since then.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

You take your face out of your hands, looking up from your spot in the waiting area. You decided on getting a quick bite before you head back. “Foggy?”

“Thought I get some grub myself.” He said, sitting down next to you, waiting as well. “Rough morning?”

I guess he could tell how messed up you felt. “You could say that.”

“Is it because of that missing kid?”

“Yeah.” You said, as you laid your head against the wall. “Guess word got around quickly.”

“You guys will find him.” He gives you a reassuring look. “I have faith.”

You scoffed. “You have more faith than I do.”

He looks proud of himself while replying, “Hey, It’s what I do best.” 

“What about you?” You cast him a glance. “Did you and Matt sort out that client issue?”

Foggy tilts his head, eyebrows scrunched together. “Issue? What issue?”

“The client issue.” You realize he didn’t know what you were talking about and continue trying to specify. “Matt and I went out last night but he cut it short; Told me he had to leave because of work. An issue with a client.”

“Issue with a client? I don’t recall a current issue with anybody.” Foggy says, honestly, as he scratches his head to think. “Are you sure that’s what he told you?”

“I’m dead serious.” You sit up straighter. “You seriously have no idea what I’m talking about?”

“No, I’m sorry, Y/N. I would know if we had an issue, I mean, we’re partners; Fifty-Fifty, you know? But if he comes into the office later I’ll ask him about it.”

You let his words sink as he excused himself to grab his food. You were… baffled. Completely fucking baffled. Did Matt really lie to you last night? And for what? He didn’t want to be there with you anymore? Did he think you were being nosy? Did he not like you in the way you thought he did? Whatever the reason was, it didn’t matter…

You were going to be pissed off anyway.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Take the bag off.” Matt snarls as he enters the freezer. His bodyguard complied, showing their enemy off for him to ‘see’. “If you’re smart you’ll make this quick. Where’s the kid you took?”

The Russian grinned, his teeth stained red with lips full of blisters. “Like hell I’ll tell you. Not until you agree to meet with Vladimir like you promised!”

“Where’s the kid?” He tried again, patience thinning out already.

“Fuck. Off. 3асранец.” (*Asshole)

Matt hums. “So not smart? Not a shocker.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who backed out at the last minute. I don’t know what was so important last night that you just had to miss it.”

“Well, all of us have lives, you know.”

He laughs. “A leech like you? Have a life? I find that hard to believe.” Another chuckle. “We know you so well that Vladimir had us on standby to take a kid.” And another. “We know you have a little soft spot for them.”

But Matt stays calm, eerily calm that could make anyone’s skin crawl. “Just Vladimir? So did his brother not have any say in that?”

“What?”

“You know, Anatoly paid me a visit last night. He actually interrupted my important event. If your bosses had such a… grand plan, how come one of them came looking for me?”

He scoffed under his breath, mumbling, “Цифры. Анатолий всегда был нетерпеливым.” (*Figures. Anatoly was always the impatient one.)

This makes Matt grinned. “Ah, so you guys have no idea? Do you?”

“Know what?”

“Что я тоже нетерпелив.” Matt says while snapping his fingers (*That I am also impatient). The meat hooks were shifted around until it was a headless body that appeared, but that didn’t shake the Russian too much until someone pulled out the body’s severed head from a box of ice. 

The man paled. “O Боже…” (*Oh God…)

“Понимаете?” Matt asked, the same expression staying (*You see?). “Мне плевать, какой у тебя статус. Ты меня злишь, я убью тебя.” (*I don’t care what status you are. You make me angry, I’ll kill you)

“You really are a monster.” He says, trying to keep it together.

“Yeah, I know. And with no regrets too. Now…” Matt’s face falls. “Where’s the kid?”

“Like I’d ever tell you after what you just did! 3асранец!” He snaps before spatting in his face. (*Asshole!)

Matt stays quiet, and calmly wipes the red spite from his face. “Otomo.” He calls out to the deepest part of the freezer, a person dressed in an all black ninja outfit. “Kare o korose.” (*Kill him). The assassin nods, unsheathing his blade which was enough to get the Russian to wiggle in his restraints and start begging.

“W-Wait! Wait! Wait! What about– No. No–”

“Dispose the body anyway you can.” Matt orders as he turns to leave the cold, until…

“Ты хочешь остановить Сорвиголову, верно?!” (*You want to stop Daredevil right?!)

As soon as those words were spoken, the Kingpin stopped in his tracks. It was only until he turned back around, the Russian started laughing with hysteria and joy.

“I know you do. We all do.” He pants and swallows. “Этот парень... он поможет любому. И я гарантирую, что он захочет спасти ребенка. Пусть все это ускользнет…” (*This guy... he’ll help anyone. And I guarantee he’ll want to save the child. Let this all slide…) He chuckles with a painful smile. “Я-я упущу это, и вместе мы сможем поймать Сорвиголову. Разве это не было бы красиво?” (*I-I let this slide, and together, we could trap Daredevil. Wouldn’t that be beautiful?)

The man prayed that this would work, and his spirits seemed to be lifted when the King of Darkness smiled.

“No one else saw you take him?” Matt asked one of the guards who shook his head. “Huh. You know…” He shifted the weight on his cane. “I like that idea. It is beautiful. Slightly risky, but beautiful.” Then he flickered his blind gaze back to his assassin. “Kare o korose.” (*Kill him)

Then he spun on his heels again and left, the door shutting behind the screams that his sensitive ears could still hear. He maneuvered around the place, listening to his adivisor’s heels click around behind him at the pace he told her to as he finds a sink to clean his soured face.

“So you’re going forward with his suggestion?” Karen asked, hands behind her back, waiting.

“It’s a little far-fetched, but if Daredevil catches wind of the kid, we actually can kill two birds with one stone.” He said, running the very idea over and over in his head. “Any updates?”

“Your phone’s been blowing up. The personal one.”

“Calls?”

“Texts mostly.”

“Who’s it from?” He asked her, as she pulled it out of her pocket and reread it over.

“Foggy.” She replies, watching him stop drying his face.

“Is it important?”

“Might be.”

“Might be?”

“He wants to know what client issue you had last night, and says you should contact Y/N.” She frowns. “Apparently she’s pissed at you for leaving last night.” He mutters something under his breath that she didn’t hear before she decided to take a step forward. “Forgive me if I’m stepping over a line, and I know she’s a long time friend, but she’s also a cop; A cop that hasn’t been linked with your program yet, and has been begging for you to tell her yourself, which I know you won’t.”

“Your point is, Karen? Matt asked, throwing the towel aside.

“What if this works out like you hope, and you reveal to her that you’re the Kingpin, then what? You expect her to be okay with it? Expect her to accept it without a little blackmail on the line?”

A brief pause. “No.”

“Exactly. She’ll try to take your ass to court, better yet she’ll try to shoot you dead. I just don’t want a repeat of last time.”

And the haunting memory flashed before him. He didn’t think it could still hurt so much. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ll figure that out later. But what about you? How’s your task going?”

“Still growing strong like you asked.” Karen said as he cups her jaw with a smile. “He trusts me a lot.”

“Good. Good. I’m glad to hear that.” He says, while slowly tracing her red lips with his thumb. “Even if, and that’s a big if, Castle ever thinks that he’s out of my control, he’s not, not if you’re on him like a thorn in his side. Right?”

“Right.” 

He hums, and lightly ghosts her arm with his fingertips drawing a small sound from her. “Bet you’re imagining me as him. Hmm?” He pulls her head down closer, his lips right next to her ear. “Keep seducing Castle for me, okay? I don’t care if you catch any feelings either, as long as you know he’ll still be between my fingertips, then I’ll let that slide. Understood?”

She makes a sound again, eyes half lid. “Understood.”

“Good.” Then he gently bites the side of her lower lip, kitty licking the bruise before pulling away. “Tell the driver to bring the car around while I make a call.”

With a shaky breath she says, “Yes, sir.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The voicemail still buzzed in the back of your head as you came bursting through your window, barely having the mental strength to lock as you started shedding your DD suit as you walked towards your bathroom.

*Beep*

[ ‘Hey, Y/N. Look, I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be, but please just… Can you just call me back and just listen to what I have to say? Please? I just… I know I messed up. I’m sorry. Please call me back when you get the chance.’ ]

*Beep*

You kicked off the last pair of clothing as you crawled into the shower turning the hot water on, letting it run on your hunched over back with your forehead against the tiles.

These few days have sucked. First your date leaves you high and dry, then you find out he lied, and now you can’t even find a missing kid whether your Daredevil or Detective L/N. It…

It really hurts.

This task… hits… close to home.

You hold back the tears you felt, and hold back the urge to sob as you let your fingers trace the scar on the base of your neck, remembering how it got there. 

.

It was stupid mistake. 

You should have waited for your partner instead of running off on your own. 

You’re an idiot. You’re an idiot. You should have waited. You should have waited. You–

You honestly thought the universe would grant you this. To grant you a chance to catch the man you’ve been hunting for weeks; To catch the man that’s been stealing those kids and doing heinous things with them. You needed to catch him, you begged to catch him but…

No.

No you can’t.

As soon as you spotted him you ran like hell after him, ignoring as your partner Max yelled your name. You had blinders on, you’ll admit, but you don’t want that man to take another kid, to steal yet another kid’s future. No.

Not on your fucking watch. However–

He catches you by surprise, and suddenly your whole world is on its side as you free fall, hitting something sharp and painful on the way down. Now you’re laying on the ground, your spine feeling funny as you feel the pool of blood grow around your head, your ears ringing like they’re dying out.

Damn it. You thought. You really thought you had this one in the bag as you started to fade to black just as your partner’s voice broke out into a scream. A scream that you know was–

.

“Fuck!” You yelled, and swiped off all the bottles off the shelf and let it rattled to the tub floor (you know you probably just woke up your downstairs neighbour but you couldn’t care less). You sigh heavily, holding the sides of your head.

.

.

.

Tonight was going to be a long night for you.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Frank’s fingers glided over his phone for the millionth time this morning. You haven’t arrived at all this morning which was so not like you (Especially since you were so desperate to solve this case). He waited a few minutes before texting again:

[ Forget what precinct you work at or something? Where are you? ]

He just wants something from you, even if you respond with an emoji that he’ll have to decipher.

Come on, Y/N. At least tell me you’re staying home. One of his fears right now was you doing something drastic. After his conversation with you yesterday he decided to look up what was scaring you, and that was the case you took just a few years out of the academy, the same year you became a detective. A criminal that had been taunting you and your partner for months, and when you finally had him, the night ended with you getting a near death injury… and another kid getting killed.

Poor girl. I just wish you didn’t have to get demoted here. You’re too good for this place. His thoughts were interrupted when his phone finally dinged with a message from you.

[ Detective Stubborn: Ate something bad last night. Stomach’s killing me. ]

He sighs with relief, whether that was true or not, he’s just glad to know you’re away from here.

[ Feel better. ]

He just really, really hopes you stay home and clear your mind.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

But of course… why would you?

After planning all day and looking over very little evidence you had you decided to go out as soon as the sun started to set. You had to rough up a couple of street thugs to get some more solid evidence, but eventually it was enough for you to figure out where they took the boy.

The warehouse district.

You floated through one of the skyline landing without a sound, and the rest  of your mission honestly became a bit of a blur. Why? Well… as you rushed around through each warehouse undetected until you actually found the kid, your enemies, when they finally noticed you, didn’t seem very fond of you poking your nose in their business. Now you’re running like hell, a kid in your arms as you tried shielding him from every bullet that came your way. You tried levitating a few times when you found yourself up high and trying to cross a beam or a walkway, but you’ve never actually flown with someone in your arms so you’re out of practice.

Come on, Y/N. Remember bootcamp, Remember your first rescue mission, you know how to carry someone to safety. Which was true, but all those other times weren’t with you being pelted with bullets from an angry mob.

You felt the kid grip your outfit tighter making you say, “It’s okay. It’s okay. Everything will be okay.” You just kept repeating that comfortingly as you made three small crates float and fly to knock the men out of your path. You kicked one of the guys in the head when he tried to get up, sprinting again. If you can just get to the edge of the building, you’ll be home free.

Trekking across a catwalk, you used your abilities to conjure up a quick shield to block before surging the power outwards, knocking the gunmen off his feet and over the railing, plummeting into the overly packed room of wooden crates from overseas (you’re not sure if you really wanted to know what the Russian mafia was importing). You fought a few more guys that dared to intervene, dared you to stop and surrender and be killed.

You could see the finish line, you could feel the boy relaxing your arms as he sees it too; You were finally going to complete the mission that’s been haunting you for so–

You heard something rattle and roll behind you.

You just had enough time to look at what it was before putting a shield up, the tiny thing exploding your whole world.

.

.

.

.

When you came back around, an excruciating pain ran through your body, a pain that was so unbearable that you didn’t want to move. The explosive you managed to shield took out the catwalk you were on and everything close by. You fell all the way down with debris dusting your face, still holding onto the kid before blacking out. Now… you laid on the floor, your head shaking as you urged yourself to look down, finding what was causing the pain.

 A metal bar was sticking out from your abdomen.

You somehow didn’t scream, maybe because you felt like you were going into shock, or maybe you were shouting and haven’t noticed yet.

Oh, god, I’ve– wait… the boy… Trying not to black out when you turn your head to look, and about a foot away was the boy who had bounced off your body during the fall. Your heart would have caught in your throat if he didn’t see his chest moving, but it was.

He’s alive. You sighed with relief, but here comes the tricky part. How are you going to move and save him with this pole in your stomach? You groaned loudly as you tried to move, arm reaching out in the attempt to at least shake him awake, trying to tell him to run if you’re truly stuck.

“Uh, Gr-Griffin… g-get up. W-Wake… up. Please…” You croaked, yet it doesn’t seem like the sleeping boy can hear you… but someone else could.

But as you shifted again, pain shooting out as the metal shifted with you, that’s when you noticed someone coming over in the corner of your eye. One of the Russians had come over, checking if you were still alive which was plain as day now. You watch his eyes go between you and the child for a few seconds before grinning like a maniac. 

Your eyes widened when you saw the gun in his hands. “No.” You whimpered with your fingertips glowing red, right as he shot a bullet into the kid’s head. “No!!!” You couldn’t believe what you had just witnessed. Would this have happened if it didn’t–

Then he pointed the weapon at you, out instinct or adrenaline your abilities shifted the gun towards him, firing his own bullet into his own skull.

His body dropped like it was made of bricks, the gun sliding inches away from him, causing you to nearly throw up in your mouth. I mean, you were a cop after all, so of course you’ve had to shoot a person or two but this was…

Messing with your fucking head.

You could hear shouting in the distance, which was enough for you to kick it high gear again and try to move. First things first was trying to get this damn bar out of your stomach. 

How the fuck– wait– let’s see– You concertrated the best you could as you redirected all the energy you had into yanking it out (doing it quickly probably was the best idea but you didn’t have much time). The bar rattled next to you, a pool of red oozing out as you rolled to your side feeling the blood rise to your throat. You quickly moved to all four, pulling your mask down to cough up the rest of the red. Sweating and heaving, you felt like you had no energy left to move, but you needed to. You could hear them coming.

As you got up to your feet, your knees nearly buckled but yourself forward where you noticed some stairs going up. Ripping and pushing your hood against your wound as you started to climb, hoping you weren’t leaving too much of a blood trail. 

Just as you got to the top you heard the voice grow near, and you managed to slide yourself into a place that no one could see from below. You just needed to stay hidden long enough for them to leave to make your escape (whenever that was). However, you never thought after searching for a few months that you would actually get to see the man they call ‘Kingpin’.

You peaked out watching two very different groups of people arrive. The Russians looked slightly surprised when the Underworld’s Ruler showed up, dressed in the red suit that you’ve heard about on the street. He walked like he owned the place, his black cane with gold trim was like the piece that tied his whole look together. He stopped with his back towards you, with many of his men standing around as, what you tell was, the Russian mob’s leader came face-to-face with Kingpin.

“3асранец. Now you show your face.” The leader, Vladimir snaps (*Asshole). 

“Well, seeing how this is my turf now, I have to show my face.” Kingpin said, making you perk up with confusion.

Why does his voice sound–? But your thought trails off as you watch Vladimir scoffing in disbelief.

“Your turf? You think we just… ‘mess up’ and you take over?”

“Well, I certainly don’t need to see that–” Matt points to the mess the explosion made. “You pretty much destroyed most of your cargo.”

Vladimir frowns, shifting his weight. “I’ll admit, I wish my men didn’t blow up half the warehouse. But I will give him a pass because he was trying to stop our rat.”

He raises an eyebrow. “A rat?”

“Yeah, a rat.” Vladimir smiles a little. “I had a feeling Daredevil would come for the kid. Why wouldn’t you if it makes you feel good?”

Matt clenches the top of his cane, keeping his composure from the neck up. “Daredevil was here?”

“Still here, I think.” The Russian points to the bloody puddle on the floor. “There’s a pipe laying next to a large amount of blood. In my experience, getting impaled you don’t get very far.”

His frown deepens, grip tightening. “And the kid? I smell two bodies with no heartbeats.” Then his whole aura changed into something darker, suffocating. “Tell me, are those your men?”

Vladimir paled, and tried to keep the discomfort off his face. He didn’t want to answer, even he knew staying silent wouldn’t be a good idea. “One of them.”

“One of them?” 

“Why do you care? It could have been Daredevil! She could have pulled the trigger!”

Matt didn’t say anything as he cast his blind gaze at the corpses before saying, “No. His scent is the only one on the gun and its bullets. So the kid’s death is in your hands.” But then he pauses, realizing something. “Wait. She?”

“Yes. My men said they saw Daredevil upclose, says the stature’s too small and not burly enough to be a man.” Vladimir replies, making Matt hum in response. “I guess something good did come out of this after all. We finally have more evidence of what we’re up against.”

And those words were his signature for his own death. 

The room got really cold, and energy felt suffocating. Everyone present began praying that they’ll be spared.

Matt grits his teeth, shaded eyes growing hungrier. “First you embarrassed me, now you insult me? I’m not even sure what to say anymore.” He says, snapping his fingers as his bodyguards shoved Vladimir to his knees, the end of a barrel being pressed in his face. The other Russians tried to make an advance, but they were outnumbered, making them slowly raise their hands over their heads.

“Давай, мужик.” Vladimir said, as Matt made a tsking news (*Come on, Man).

“Don’t ‘come on, man’ me. You brought this upon yourself. I mean–” Matt chuckled dryly, lowly, scary. “All you and your brother had to do was just wait the next day for our meeting. But no, you had to go out and throw a tantrum, you had to go out and kidnap a kid that has no meaning to any of us.”

Vladimir scoffs. “No meaning? It always has some meaning to you. Don’t act like you haven’t kidnapped someone’s kid before.”

“And I’m not. I know what I’ve done. But unlike you, when I kidnap someone there’s meaning to it, a purpose. Like when I… ‘picked up’ our DA’s lovely daughter after soccer practice, and said we were good friends. And like any child, she believed it.” Matt smiled just a little before it faded in an instant. “However… she never ended up like that.” He gestures to the body on the floor. “You get what I mean?”

The Russian growls. “3асранец.” (*Asshole)

“You can keep calling me an asshole all you want, but you know I’m right.” Matt sighs. “I just wish your brother was like you.”

Vladimir’s breath caught in his throat. “What did you do?”

“Nothing that your brother didn’t deserve. He did interrupt a very important date I really care about. I’m honestly surprised he found the restaurant I was in.”

Brother? Interrupted? Restaurant? You thought, wondering why this sounds so familiar. 

“What. Did. You. Do?!” Vladimir shouted, baring his teeth as the King of Darkness lips curled into a mischievous grin.

“Like I said, nothing he didn’t deserve.” Matt snaps his fingers again, this time summoning someone over who was holding up a duffle bag. He reaches inside and pulls the brother’s head out by his hair (You had to hold back from gasping loudly at the sight).

Vladimir nearly broke down on the spot. “Anatoly…”

“I really wished he had just called, I wouldn’t have resorted to such manners.” Another sigh. “I even had to lie to my date that I had to go bail him out.”

And that’s when your whole world collapsed.

No. You thought, shaking your head as everything started to click in place.

No. No. This has to be fake. I have to be sleeping. This can’t– But you can’t deny what was plain as day. You didn’t have to see his face to know it was him. I mean, he had a cane you thought was just for fashion, he had shades on that you thought was just part of his look, but you can’t deny that his voice is the same, you can’t deny that the missing pieces had formed a whole. 

But then his name rolled off your lips as you stared with disbelief.

“Matt…” You whispered, and as soon as you did, his head snapped your way. 

Tensing up and pushing yourself further into the shadows, you slapped your hand over your mouth as your heart pounded in your ears.

There’s no way he heard me… right? However, that couldn’t be a coincidence. There’s no way you just mutter his name and then look your way. It’s too much of a coincidence for it not to be true. But does that mean–

Can Matt… hear anything? Does he have abilities like me? You didn’t know what to think as he went back to his conversation with the Russian mob leader.

His perplexed expression changed back to the grin as he continued to taunt the man before him. “Now do you understand why people don’t cross me?”

“You’re a monster.” Vladimir replies, voice filled with venom. “You’re a fucking monster.” 

“I know.”

“You won’t get away with this. When people hear about what you’ve done, there’s no way the others are going to let this go.” The Russian clenched his fists. “My people, even if I’m gone, they’re not going to put up with this. Same with the Doctors, S.I.L.K., the Chinese, the Japanese–”

“The Japanese?” Matt said with a laugh. “Oh, they work for me.” And he almost laughed again when he saw his prey’s face pale again in shock. “Yeah. You see, they raised me. The Hand taught me everything I know, and helped me rise to this position.”

What does he mean he was raised by the Japanese? You managed to think after slowly coming over your shock. You knew his mother died in the accident that blinded him, and he mentioned his dad pasted as well, and–

Wait…

Matt never told me when his father died. Does that mean he was young enough to be taken in by someone? Someone like… You couldn’t even finish the sentence. You’ve heard bits and pieces about The Hand on the street. You knew they were hardcore, highly skilled and basically an assassination group; People you didn’t want to mess with.

So does that make Matt… an assassin? 

“You really have power in everything.” Vladimir said, head hanging low.

“Pretty much.” Matt said, proudly.

“Then I guess… I’ve got nothing else to do than follow you.” 

“Follow me?” The blind man scoffed. “Oh, Vladimir, you lost your chance at that. You’ve already proven to me that you have no loyalty, that you only think about yourself.”

“Mr. Murdock–”

Matt cut him off by holding his hand up, and staying quiet for just a moment. “I really wanted to like you Vladimir, that hard head of yours I could have used for so many things but…” He sighs and stays silent again. 

.

.

.

And then you watch him plunge his sword into the side of Vladimir’s head.

Your pupils shrunk and you felt all the air get sucked out of you. You–

Matt slowly pulls his weapon out, letting his bodyguards drop the body to the floor. He just stares again, almost like he was basking in what he just did.

Oh, my god… he just… Then you watched him sheath the blade back into his cane and says,

“Kill the rest.” 

And that’s when you knew you had to move. Using all the strength you had left to bolt away as Matt’s men started firing at whoever was left of the Russian mob.

You’re not sure how you’re even going to get home, but fuck…

.

.

.

There’s no way in hell you’re going to stick around here.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You practically crawled to the bathroom when you got back to the apartment, black spots started dancing as you ripped open the first aid kit. You shake off your top, turning the shower on for a few seconds to remove the excess blood.

.

“Matty… would you still be friends with me if I was a freak?” You asked him as the two of you sat on the fire escape of his apartment. The question has been gnawing at you for quite some time, and you weren’t sure how to express it so.

“A freak?” Matt said, confused. “Why would you ask me that?”

.

The pole didn’t go all the way through, which was good, but damn… that was going to leave a nasty scar when it did heal. You had to bite on a rolled up magazine as you started sewing up the wound, the pain keeping you awake.

.

“Well…” You nervously shifted your weight, looking in his direction. “What if I told you… that my parents are special?”

“Special? In what way?

.

You placed the gauze over the wound, then bandaging it up. You then cursed as you pushed yourself to a stand, running your blood soaked hands under the water, watching it swirl down the drain.

.

“Like… what if they had abilities? Like superheroes?” 

“Like superheroes?” Matt perked up a little. “Do they?”

“It’s just a question.” You shrug and look away. “Would you be okay if I was a freak too?” 

.

Your eyes shifted from the bathroom to your kitchen, remembering something. You flicked off the faucet, wobbly walking towards the very thing that’s been peaking your curiosity for the longest time.

The vase of roses.

With a shaky hand you grabbed the note, opening up to reread the one sentence on the paper.

.

“I wouldn’t mind.” Matt said, with a smile. “I’d think it’d be cool.” 

You blink in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. You would be like an actual superhero. Like the ones you see in the comic books. I’ll admit though, I’d be kind of jealous if you did.”

“How come?”

.

Now you were back in your room, rummaging around for the outfit you wore to work the other day. You know you still have it, you have to. You needed the chance to compare the two.

.

“Because–” Now it was his turn to shift in his seat. “My best friend has powers and I don’t. Everyone would be in awe with you but with me? Nothing.”

You frown at his words. “Don’t say that. I think it would be nice to have someone different than me.” Then smiles. “Keeps me from not going completely crazy.”

He chuckles. “Well it would be my job to keep you from going nuts. I wouldn’t want you to be the villain of the story.”

You smirk a little at that, scooting closer. “Is that a promise?”

.

Your (Y/E/C) eyes widened with disbelief for the millionth time tonight. In one hand you had the note from the vase, the other? It was the ad from Nelson and Murdock, the ones they were going to pass out, spread the word. 

The one that had their penmanship on the very bottom.

A perfect–

Perfect–

Match.

.

You held out your pinky. “Promise me. Promise me that as long as we’re together, we won’t become villains in this world. Will always be each other’s light.”

He stays quiet for a second, like he’s thinking. Then he raises an eyebrow, saying, “Superpowered or not?”

“Superpowered or not.”

“Okay. Deal.” He interlocks his pinky with yours. “I promise I won’t do anything crazy while you’re here.”

“Thank you, Matty. I’ll hold you to it.”

.

You snagged everything that was off the counter, marching over to the window, ripping it open. Without even looking you just tossed it out, letting it drop and shattered on the dumpster lid below.

You just couldn’t believe it as you sank to your knees.

You just couldn’t believe it.

You just couldn’t believe it.

You just couldn’t believe it.

You just…

.

.

.

.

Couldn’t believe your whole life was in a lie.

(TBC)

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