#hopefully the final installment will be up this week!

[afewproblems]

These two live rent free in my head

Mean!Eddie WIP coming along, sneak peak treat Monday!

[justthatspiffy]

so much wanting to have the house back

[a-b-riddle]

Part Six

Can't stop thinking about reader finally giving the boys a taste of their own medicine. And hurting my own feelings in the process of it all. I wanted to make this a baddie reader chapter, but its just a saddie reader chapter. I played Down Bad by T.S on repeat while writing this. Y'all need to thank @blueladys-world for being my ventor for this part.

None of them came the next day to pick up the box of everything you had collected. By everything, quite literally everything. Birthday cards and gifts. Keepsakes from your time together they had given you. Even going as far as returning lingerie they had given you. You didn't want any trace of them in your home anymore. You were gonna have to work hard in rebuilding it to be your safe space once again.

You were surprised that someone from the expo had DM'd you. Renée was an author who had tried to stop by to your stand, but got too caught up in the day. She was in London, working on her next series installment and wanted to pick your brain. Writer to writer.

The two of you agreed on a time. She had mentioned wanting to try this restaurant the last time she visited and you already knew you would be putting that meal on a credit card. It was a bit of splurge, but after the past week you deserved it. You could even wear that sexy black number that had been collecting dust in your closet.

By the time you were done getting ready and squeezing into your dress, you looked more ready for a date than dinner with a colleague.

A colleague. You had a colleague!!!

The knock on the door pulled you from your girlish glee. You didn't need to guess who it was. Your friends knew to text you before they came over and Renée had agreed just to meet you at the restaurant.

It was one of them.

You didn't even t bother looking through your peephole before you opened the door to find Johnny standing there with a floral arrangement of your favorite flowers.

Johnny began to speak, afraid you were going to shut him down immediately no less. But no words came out. His eyes traveled up and down your body, taking you in.

A vision.

You wanted to snap at him that your eyes weren't located on your hips. But damn if it didn’t feel empowering seeing Johnny’s gaze gloss over.

"Fuck me." He swore, gathering his bearings before realizing you were dressed. In a sexy black dress and heels and makeup and oh, fuck you were going out. "Where are you going?"

"First off, none of your business," you said holding a finger up. "And secondly, what are you doing here?"

"Listen," "Bon-"

"The box is right there." You said pointing to a large cardboard box on the floor. "That's everything."

"If you just let me make it-"

"Up to me?" You cut him off again. "I'm over it. Really."

"Just give me a chance."

"Either you haven't spoken to the other two to know I am well and truly done with this situationship, or you’re hoping some half-ass apology and flowers will let you get a last fuck in and the skedaddle. So hopefully if it was latter, hopefully the former answered that for ya.”

So if that's all you came here for, I've got to get going. My reservation is at seven and it's rude to keep a friend waiting."

"It's been a week and you're already going on a date?" He accused.

"Who said anything about a date?" You didn't outright say it wasn't. Where would be the fun in that? “It's just dinner with a colleague.” You didn’t want to lie. It wasn’t a date. But you didn’t need to say it was a woman. “Hardly a date.”

“Look at the sight of ye!" He said, taking the opportunity to take a quick look at how deliciously your ass filled that dress. “A fookin’ dinner with a colleague. Like one of us would show up to a briefing like that.” You opened your compact. Not needed in the age of cellphones but loving the feminine touch.

There was something so... seductive about using a compact mirror to apply your lipstick.

“Kyle does have the legs for this dress.” You said, applying that lipstick he loves. That same shade that looked beautiful on your lips. The same lipstick you would mark all over Johnny’s body. “Believe what you want. Not my problem anymore.”

You put your compact back in your purse along with the lipstick in case you needed to reapply it after dinner.

Johnny's eyes zeroed in on your lips before his eyes met yours. That's when you felt it again. That undeniably spark of chemistry that you had with him. With all of them. That feeling that sucked the very breath from your lungs and for a moment all you could see was the man in front of you.

"Bonnie," he said placing his hands on your neck. His thumbs stroking your cheeks softly. "Just one more chance." He begged, his voice breaking. "I'm a fucking git, but I won't let you go again. I won't leave." You knew that when it came to promises, Johnny had proven that even if he didn't mean to break them, he had forgotten he made them in the first place.

But in that moment you didn't care. Even after everything, Meredith was right. You had loved them. Everything else had ended so shitty. John had blamed you. Kyle had only shown up until it was too late. And Simon. The last time you would ever hear his voice was after he said such cruel things to you.

No.

If you were done with Johnny, you won't let the last time he fucked you being a quick, rough fuck doggystyle before leaving you naked and alone in your bed.

No. The last time with Johnny needed to be good. It might make it harder to finally leave, but you needed this. You needed to know that he could still make love to you and not just fuck you like an animal in heat.

"Johnny?" You asked. Your mouth dangerously close to his. "I don't want you to fuck me."

"I don't have to," he said, starting to take a step back to give you some space before your hands reached his. Holding him in place.

He can't let you go. You couldn't let him go. Not yet. Just one more. You needed just one more time to get him out of your system. The closure you needed.

"Make love to me." You begged, your eyes pleading. "I need to know that I wasn't just something you wanted to fuck." You don't move as his eyes search yours, looking for reassurance. When you nod, his mouth softly touches your own.

His hands travel along your body, but never fully leave you. Sliding your neck to your back. Pulling your body closer to his. A hand placed on your hip so tightly he's afraid you might disappear.

There's no rush, no haste in his touch. His mouth not eager to devour you.

He's slow. With his hands, his tongue. Even when he picks you up and walks to your bedroom with your legs around his waist.

He doesn't throw you on the bed.

Not this time.

He lays you down. His body laying on top of yours. His hand skimming along your bare thighs, but not daring to travel any higher.

But damn you needed him. You wanted love making, but if he didn't get inside you soon, you weren't sure you could let him go after this. You weren't sure you would be able to leave.

"Johnny," you whimpered, pulling away from his mouth. "Please." You took his hand, putting it between your thigh. Aching for any friction.

He obeyed without hesitation. If you told him to get on his bark, he would in that moment. Anything to make you happy. Anything to keep you.

"Got to get you out of this dress first." He resting on his knees before he began to slide the black satin from your thighs to your stomach. You maneuvered, helping him undress you leaving you in nothing.

"I thought you liked the dress." You couldn't help, but tease. Your hand finding its home on the back of his neck, pulling you to him once more.

In a tone lacking any note of humor and in all seriousness, he looked at you. Really looking at you. Taking in how your smile reached your beautiful eyes before he said, "I want you bare to me when I take you."

You felt your stomach flutter at his words before he began to take off his clothes.

He joined you again. His body relaxing when they got between your legs again. His mouth traveled from your exposed neck to your nipples. Sucking and flicking them with his tongue until your back arched. Pressing harder into his mouth.

Your hands tangled in his soft brown hair before you boldly guided him to your already dripping core. He slid down your body before his hands began to push your knees apart until you were fully expose to him.

With your knees bent, Johnny settled on his stomach, placing soft kisses on your soft inner thighs. God, did he love seeing you squirm. He smiled at your tortured expression before looking down at your sex. "There she is." He said before placing a kiss on your pussy.

It wasn't sloppy. He wasn't diving in and licking at your center like so many times before. He was kissing it just as tenderly as he kissed your mouth. Slowly building it deeper and deeper. Adding tongue. Breaking away to readjust his head.

The delicious ache between your thighs began to become to unbearable. "Need you inside me." You panted. "Johnny-"

"Shhh." He soothed. "Got to warm you up first , Bonnie." He said before slipping his finger inside of you. One was all it took before your head settled against the pillows again. When your body relaxed, he added another. He would need to add three to make sure you were good and ready.

His digits stroked that spongy spot inside of you that made your toes curl. "You're barely fitting around my fingers." Johnny was a good 6 inches in length, but the girth is what always did you in. It hurt to take anything past his head into your mouth. If you fucked him without any preparation, especially after a week of no sex, he would tear you into too.

His tongue caressed your clit, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt your first orgasm creeping up on you.

"Johnny." You moaned, your fingers running through his soft brown hair.

"Give it to me, beauty." He panted. "Come on my face. Squeeze my fingers, Lass." He begged before his mouth went back to you.

It was like lightning. Your body now sensitive after being forsaken for so long. Your vision blurred and before you could process it, Johnny was sitting on his haunches between your legs, stroking his cock.

You could only nod, dazed and barely keeping a grip onto the reality of what this was.

The end.

He leaned forward, his cock nestling against you. You knew this was going to be nothing compared to his fingers. "Tell me if I need to stop."

You smiled, mockingly. Reminding him, "Not our first time together, Johnny." just our last.

"You were wrapped tight around my fingers." He gave a half smile before kissing your forehead. The gesture like a knife twisting in your heart. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"I'm ready." You brought your legs around his waist again. Pulling him to you, your arms wrapping around his neck as your mouths meet.

He presses into you. The head of his cock sliding inside just one or two inches. You body contracting around him in a small spasm. He swallows your moan and lets you adjust. He pulls away before looking down where the two of you meet.

"I could die like this, Lass." He said, his breath coming out unsteady as he tries his best to control himself. So close to just burying himself inside of you to the fucking hilt. "Seeing you like this is this first thing I want to see when I make it to the other side." You let out a choked cry as he pushes deeper inside you. Another inch. And another. And another until you're taking all of him.

He slurs something that sound like "fuck", but you are in too much of a daze to care. You arch into him, trying to get closer.

His thrusts are slow and deep. His pubic bone brushing against your clit making you whine and squirm. Begging for more.

You're not sure how long he had fucked you like that.

You needed it to stop.

You couldn't handle it. The softness. His words.

I could die like this, Lass.

Your lip quivered as you told him you wanted to be on top. You needed a moment. A chance to create a bit of space before he shattered your world yet again.

He pulled out. His absence already making you ache for him again before he settled beside you.

You squatted above his cock. Your feet flat against the mattress as you grabbed his hardness and slipping it inside of you. The sound you let out was pornographic. A high pitched, soft moan slipping from your lips as he buried himself inside of you again.

You placed you hands on his chest. Using the leverage to ride him. Your arms serving as barrier for you to get your bearings.

You used his body just as he had used yours. Throwing your head back, you moved faster and faster. Readjusting so your hands went from his chest to his stomach, giving him a better view of your connecting bodies.

His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing against your clit, and you tighten even more around. A needy whimper coming out of your throat. The sound mixing in with the sounds of his labored breathing and slapping skin as he begins to fuck up into you.

Even though he had been doing all the work for the last several minutes, you felt the tension start to creep into your calf.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You screech, barely able to hold yourself up any longer. "Ow." You hissed as the cramp took hold.

"Leg cramp?" He asked, not even faltering in his thrusts. You pathetically nod before he takes it upon himself to flip you on your back again.

"I'm going to do this every chance I can." He promises, pressing a searing kiss onto your exposed neck. "Any chance you'll give me." You can't take it. His words, his mouth, his fucking cock. It's too much. "I'm going to show you how much I want you. How much I want to fucking worship ye. Do anything to make you feel good. Not going to leave you again like that, Bonnie."

You reach for him again, pull him into a searing kiss just to shut him up. You need him to shut up. You couldn't take his false promises. You wouldn't survive it. Couldn't.

"Shit." His thrusts quicken, his thumb returning to your swollen bud. Flicking it in a way he had crafted into an art. He buries his face into your neck and you know he's getting close.

You weren't too far behind.

He didn't want to come, not yet, but this was fully out of his control. It was pathetic. A week without sex and you had him nearly coming in the first ten minutes.

But that's what you want. To see him lost in the idea that you would stay.

"Johnny." You groan out. "Please. Cum inside me."

He draws fast, beautiful circles around your clit that immediately push you over the edge. You shut your eyes tight, squeezing him like a vice as you come in strong waves, continuing to push inside you.

in out in out in out.

Deliciously clenching around him tighter and tighter until he can't take it anymore.

"Fuck," he says again, and you see it in his face, and you see it in his face, the second it's all over for him. You want to sear the image in your head. Keep it there forever. Knowing you'll never see it again. The way those enchanting blue eyes squint nearly shut before closing in complete ecstacy.

His mouth would open. A moan caught in his throat that he isn't ready to let go.

His hand closes around your hip, holding you to him while he presses as far as he can go, and it's only then do you feel his cock twitch in quick, jerky movements. He moans out your name before taking your mouth into a searing kiss.

"I fucking love you." He says. "So fucking much."

He was still under the blanket when you returned from the bathroom. You picked up your clothes up from the floor. Looking at the clock realizing you had less than five minutes to get out the door before you would be late for dinner.

"What are you doing?" he asked. You couldn't look at him. Hearing the panic in his voice almost made you stop. Tell him it really was just dinner with a colleague. A woman. That you would be back. Beg him to wait until you came home.

"I can't cancel on the dinner." You said slipping your feet into your heels. "This was a mistake."

You weren't sure why you said it. You weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. If you wanted to hurt him or make him think you regretted it when you would truthfully do it again. You would do it again and again. You would never stop.

Like Johnny, you could have died in that moment, but for a completely different. Where he would be content, you would be saved from the pain. The pain currently coursing throughout your very soul.

"Lock the door behind you." You say as you practically sprint out the bedroom. Only slowing in your stride to snatch your purse off the kitchen counter before running out. The door slamming behind you.

The restaurant was nicer than you expected. The wine alone was the price of an entree. You didn't seem to be phased at all and were relieved when Renée insisted on picking up the bill.

Your dinner had been delicious and the conversation even better. Renée wrote fantasy romance and wanted to pick your brain about a Why Choose. You had nearly spent out the over priced wine you weren't even really enjoying. Oh the irony.

"It's like all the rage now, but it's hard to make more than one appealing as the love interest. You should have seen the Goodreads comments on my last book. So many people bitched about my FMC not ending up with a character who was quite literally her adopted brother."

"So," you took a breath trying to find the words. "I'm going to be honest. I only read your latest book and I loved Luka. But I can't compare him to other MMCs you've written about so I don't know if they are similar or different. But what I can say is that I'm seeing like this trend of MMCs where they are all this dark-haired, brooding or mysterious character who dislikes mostly everyone and is only soft for either a select few or only the FMC."

"I think if you are going to write a Why Choose you need to think of guys you wouldn't mind falling in love with." You couldn't help, but think of what drew you to your boys. "One could be the leader. Someone who isn't afraid to have his neck on the line. To make sure everyone else is taken care of and being strong enough to handle the stress of that. He would be big on words of affirmation. Lifting the FMC up. For me, it would be someone that I know will take care of business. He's confident in his decision. That confidence would extend to me." You clear your throat. "If I was the FMC, that is."

"Okay." She nodded, pulling out a pen and notepad. "You don't mind if I-"

"I don't write about polygamy." Crossed that bridge. Currently trying to burn it. "So feel free."

"Another could be the one who it's so easy to fall in love with their charm. The one who falls to his knees. Wanting to worship every inch of her. The one who makes her laugh. That one to make her forget about the sadness that creeps into her bones. The one to hold her whenever he could. He's about quality time and physical touch."

"So different love languages." She said, her pen quickly scribbling.

"Yeah." You said, leaning forward. "Then there is the gift giver." Your mind went to Gaz. Most of the gifts and trinkets in the box sitting by your door had came from him. He had gotten you new earbuds when yours broke. When you were being harassed at your gym, he had bought you and him a membership at a different one. "The one who would give her the world if she asked for it. If you're going with a high fantasy then maybe the one to take note of something at a market that the FMC had been eyeing and he bought it for her. Just someone who takes notice like that."

"So acts of service would fall with all of them then you think?"

No. Simon had been the one who probably spent the least amount of money on you. He didn't praise you like John. He didn't even try to attach himself at your hip like Johnny.

But if you needed something fixed, he would come fix it himself. He'd be damned letting a strange man into your apartment. And alone? Fucking forget about it. The one who hated any sort of cardio activity outside of fucking you, but didn't hesitate in attempting to keep up with you when you wanted to go on a run and get some fresh air. If you needed something done, he didn't pay someone else to do it. He did it. If you wanted to do something, he made it happen. He made you safe.

You couldn't bring yourself to say explain it. Your eyes begin to itch. Warning you to think of something else.

So instead you just told her yeah. That they would all commit acts of service. And even in your hypothetical explanation of characters that haven't even been written yet, Simon was still the ghost among them.

"Lucky fucking girl." Renée said setting down her pen.

"Yeah." You said, downing the rest of your wine.

You walked home. The cool crisp wind feeling like it was whipping your exposed skin. It was soothing as the ghost of Johnny's touch still seemed to burn you.

You had hoped that you would get some closure, but you just felt hollow. You came twice and still manage to leave unsatisfied. Johnny wasn't malicious... he was Johnny. He wasn't like the others. Simon would never apologize and John and Kyle wouldn't try to keep reaching out after you told them know once.

Johnny couldn't stand you being mad at him. He never could. He would beg and beg for your forgiveness. You didn't regret fucking him one last time. He needed to know that you were well and truly done. There was no going back from this.

"Hey, Love!" You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a voice coming from a source you couldn't see. You perked up, quickly scanning the dimly lit street before your eyes settled on a cluster of shadows just across the street. "Yeah." The slurring voice said again. "Talking to you gorgeous!"

You resumed your trek home. Now picking up your pace. "Don't be like that! Where ya off to?" The voice followed you. You kept your gaze straight. You were three minutes away. Three minutes and you would be at your building.

Three minutes.

Three minutes.

"What's the rush?" Another voice joined the cacophony. "Just want to have a chat."

You turned. They were maybe twenty feet away. You kept your eyes glued to them as your started to make a run for it.

You had made it about ten feet before your body collided with someone. Firm hands gripped your upper arms, steading you as you threatened to fall back.

You sucked in a breath of air, ready to scream when you looked up. It was too dark to make out the man's facial features. He was tall. His head eclipsing the street lamp just behind him. You shook beneath his hands. The voices behind you now silent.

"Keep walking." You didn't need to see his face. You knew that deep timber voice anywhere. He released you from his grip before letting you pass him.

"Just wanted to have a chat." You heard one of them try to reason. "No harm done."

"No harm done yet." Was the last thing you heard Simon say before you broke out into a full fledged run.

[bellaxgiornata]

Seeking Forgiveness [Part Five]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.7k

[Full summary and installment list for this series can be found here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader

a/n: The part you've probably all been waiting for is finally here and I'm dying to see reactions to this one! Also, I have no idea why tags aren't working for a couple of you, I tried a few times to get them to work but I blame tumblr, I'm sorry! As always, Feedback is always appreciated!

Lying in bed with your sheets pulled up to your chin, it felt like the entire room around you was spinning. Even with your eyes clamped tightly shut, you could feel that uncomfortable churning in your stomach, that dizzying sensation making it feel like your bed was rocking back and forth on the ocean. You’d been lying there for at least a half an hour now, practically begging the higher powers above to give you just one night where you could fall straight to sleep without feeling like you were going to be sick.

Your morning sickness had only gotten worse now that you were entering the ninth week. And you absolutely hated the deceiving term of 'morning sickness' considering the fact that you’d thrown up a handful of times over the past few days now, and most of those times were not in the morning. It affected you on and off throughout the day, and almost always hitting you as you were relaxing and trying to fall asleep.

That telltale feeling quickly began to creep back up on you, your saliva pooling in your mouth. You winced, groaning and burying your face into your pillow as you swallowed, hoping to stop what was about to come. But the saliva only pooled more along your tongue as you felt your stomach give an uncomfortable lurch. The contents within it abruptly surged their way upwards with barely any warning.

Kicking your sheets off of yourself, you tossed your legs over the side of your bed. You threw a hand over your mouth as you hurried out of the bedroom, racing across the hall to your bathroom. You’d barely managed to flip the light on before dropping down to your knees in front of your toilet. Lifting the seat up and lowering your face above the bowl, you began to violently empty your stomach. 

By the time you’d finished retching, you pathetically slumped on the floor before the toilet, running a hand across your sweat-dampened forehead. Groaning miserably, your eyes closed as you cringed at the disgusting taste in your mouth. Though thankfully the longer you sat on the cool tile of your bathroom floor, the more your nausea and dizziness began to subside. 

“This is such bullshit,” you moaned to yourself. “Why does every part of this have to be so awful?”

It was a few minutes that you sat hunched on the floor in front of the toilet before you finally felt like you weren’t going to be sick again. Gradually you pushed yourself up from the bathroom floor, making your way over to your sink. Picking up your toothbrush from its holder, you got it wet and covered it in toothpaste before you began to vigorously brush the disgusting taste from your mouth. At least now that you’d gotten sick and gotten that out of your system, you could hopefully get comfortable in bed and fall asleep this time. That’s how things had gone the last few nights at least; the nausea seemed to disappear once you finally got sick.

Finished brushing your teeth, you rinsed off your toothbrush and put it away. After, you turned off the faucet and dried your face and hands on the nearby towel. Exhausted, you stepped out of the bathroom, flipping off the light as you went, but you’d barely reached your bedroom before you froze at the sound of your name being spoken through the silence of your apartment.

Fear shot through you immediately, the hair bristling on the back of your neck as you spun on your heel. A soft, surprised gasp slipped out of your lips when you spotted Daredevil standing just at the edge of your hallway, the faint light trickling past the curtain-covered windows in your living room casting dark shadows across his masked face.

You stood there in shock for a moment, trying to comprehend the fact that Matt was even here in your apartment. He’d called you again just earlier today, but you’d once again refused to answer your phone for him. And now here he was, just letting himself into your apartment like he always used to do. As if he was still welcome here. The thought of that had your anger soon reigniting within you, your hands curling into fists at your sides. You saw the way Matt stiffened in response, clearly picking up on the sudden shift in your mood.

“So you think you can just break into my apartment now, do you?” you hissed. “After everything?”

“I came here to talk,” he replied, an edge to his tone. “Because you certainly weren’t answering your phone. I’ve been trying to call you for weeks.”

A bitter laugh fell out of you, your arms coming to cross over your chest in agitation. You ignored the way your breasts ached at the gesture, too angry to care about that.

“Maybe I didn’t want to talk to you after the way you ended things,” you shot back. “Maybe that’s why I wasn’t answering your calls, Matthew .”

The corner of his lip curled back at your words and the way you’d shot his full name out at him, as if it had physically hurt him as he winced in pain. Good, you hoped the bite in your words hurt. He deserved it after how he’d hurt you.

He opened his mouth to respond, but you saw him close it again almost immediately. His head canted to the side, the gesture which you knew meant he’d picked up on something with his senses. A different kind of fear rippled through you next, wondering just what he’d noticed.

“Are you sick?” he asked, his tone softening.

You scoffed at the question, shaking your head. So he’d noticed you’d been throwing up. You hoped the smell of your sick lingering in the air would send him away. This wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have right now; all you wanted to do was go to sleep. You were exhausted from your work week on top of everything else, you didn’t need a vigilante ex-boyfriend breaking and entering on a Thursday night just to fight with you.

“No, I’m not sick,” you snapped. “Not that you’d care anyway.”

“Of course I’d care,” he immediately disagreed.

“Sure as shit didn’t care when you ended things,” you spat back. “Couldn’t care enough to give me a single evening of your time. So don't tell me you suddenly care now, Matthew .”

Matt’s body went rigid, something dark crossing his masked features. A bit of the Devil was peeking through right now, you could see that. Because you’d touched a nerve of some sort.

“I wasn’t the one who ended things,” he replied, his voice rough and low. “ You did that. I came here to apologize for how I’d treated you that night and for all those times I’d broken promises to you. That’s why I’m here.”

Your brows shot up onto your forehead in shock, your mouth falling open. He thought you had ended things? With everything he’d been doing, all the promises he’d broken and the way he’d slammed that door on his way out that night–he had the audacity to claim you broke up with him ? Your fury only coiled tighter as you glared back at Matt, shoulders squaring as you held your ground, desperate to unleash the pain you’d been holding back for weeks.

“ I didn’t end the relationship, Matt,” you retorted, tears brimming in your eyes. “That was entirely on you when you chose to walk out that goddamn door and put Hell’s Kitchen over me. Like you did night after fucking night. For weeks . Because that’s all you fucking care about, isn’t it? This goddamn city. When it comes right down to it, you’d choose this city over me. That’s what you proved to me, Matthew."

Inhaling a sharp breath as you saw his lips thin out along his face at your accusation, you realized you couldn’t stop the words that were about to come flying out of you. Because for weeks now you'd wanted to hurl them at him like knives, hoping they’d hit their mark and wound him.

“You did this, Matthew,” you growled, pointing a firm, accusatory finger at his chest as that rage and pain finally loosed itself on your tongue. “You abandoned me–abandoned us . That is on you.”

“I didn’t abandon–” he began, stopping almost instantly.

His head yet again canted to the side and you swore you could almost hear his thoughts suddenly racing. 

“What?” he asked sharply. “ Us ?”

There was a pause that followed his question, Matt’s entire body frozen on the spot–until his head abruptly shifted. You watched as his head tilted a few different times in confusion, his lips twisting beneath the hard line of his mask. And then the red lenses of his mask finally found their focus–fixed on your abdomen. His mouth fell open in shock as he stood there speechless, the tension quickly leaving his body as if he'd lost all of his fight in that instant.

"You're–you're pregnant?" he breathed out.

"Yes, I am," you answered.

As he continued to openly gawk, your arms lowered, wrapping protectively over your stomach. Matt took a cautious, hesitant step towards you, his gloved hand reaching out. Though he promptly stopped himself in his tracks, his hand frozen and left hovering between the pair of you.

"Why did you never say anything?" he asked softly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

A humorless bark of laughter flew out of you at that. What a ridiculous question to ask. As if you hadn't made an attempt to tell him.

"I tried to tell you," you said bitterly. "That night I practically begged you to stay with me, Matt. The night you walked out that door and chose Hell’s Kitchen instead. After that, I hadn't been able to bring myself to talk to you. Couldn’t look at you and tell you."

His hand that had been hovering in the space between you both continued its way up, pulling the mask from his head and revealing his stunned expression and mussed hair. There wasn't an ounce of anger anywhere on his features in the dark, his sightless eyes still fixed on your abdomen. Most likely tuned into the small, fast heartbeat there. 

"I–I didn't know," he choked out, shaking his head. "I am… so sorry, sweetheart."

"Don't," you warned him, eyes narrowing. "Don't call me that, Matt. I'm not your sweetheart ," you bit out. "I'm not any of that to you anymore."

Matt visibly shrunk back, wincing at your words. His gloved hands nervously fidgeted with the mask he held between them both as you saw his throat bob with a hard swallow. 

"I'm sorry," he breathed out, his face contorting with emotion. "I'm so sorry. I was–was such an asshole. You didn't deserve that. Any of it."

"No, I didn't," you agreed. "You turned into a different person, Matt. One I didn't recognize. But maybe that’s who you really are."

"I thought you were trying to give me an ultimatum," he confessed, his voice tight with emotion. "That night. That's what I thought. That you were going to tell me I had to pick you or Daredevil and I–I was hurt and angry. Because I thought you knew I couldn't give that part of myself up completely. I thought you’d accepted that side of me."

"I would never have done that," you told him. "You certainly need to learn how to compromise and how to figure out what is truly a priority, Matt, but I would never have forced you to choose one or the other. Because I loved you for all of you. I'd always told you that."

"I know, you're right," he said, nodding quickly as he took another step closer. "I never meant to hurt you, I swear. I fucked up, I know I did. And I'm sorry. So incredibly sorry. You deserve better and I want to make it up to you. To fix things."

You shook your head, taking a step back from Matt. His face fell instantly at the physical distance, his eyes pinching tight.

"You can't fix this, Matt," you told him, waving a hand between the pair of you. "You walked out on me–on us. You'd been breaking promise after promise to me for weeks. I don't trust you anymore, don't you get that?"

"What do you mean?" he whispered, his face twisting in pained confusion. "Of course you can trust me. I love you. I'd never hurt you. Either of you."

You grimaced at the way he said he loved you, your heart constricting in your chest. What you wouldn't give for the situation to be different, to be able to have those words not feel like shards of glass tearing you open as they came out of his mouth.

"I don't trust that you'll do what you say," you countered. "I don't trust that you'll be there for me when I need you. I don't trust that anything else could ever mean more to you than this city, Matt. We would only ever come second, and that's not enough."

In the dim light coming from your living room windows behind Matt, you could see the glisten of tears in his eyes. His face further scrunched up as he tried to fight back his tears, roughly shaking his head at you. 

"That's not true," he said softly, the words breaking. "That could never be true." 

He sniffled loudly, the sound shattering your heart even further. As angry as you'd been at him and as much as you'd wanted to hurt him for weeks now, actually seeing him so emotionally distraught didn't make you feel any better. If anything you just felt worse about this entire disappointing situation. His actions had only left you both broken and lonely.

"I'd never pick anything before you or my own child," he assured you. " Never ."

A few tears slipped down your cheeks, the warmth of them a noticeable contrast to the cool air of your apartment. Your arms hugged your abdomen tighter as your lips trembled.

"I don't believe you, Matt," you whispered. 

His face tightened further, a choked sob falling out of him. You grimaced at the sight, your own tears starting to fall faster. It felt like your heart was breaking all over again right now having this conversation. Having to tell him the things you knew you needed to. 

"I would never keep you from your child, Matt," you began slowly, trying to keep your voice steady, "but I'll be the one raising this baby. Alone."

"No," he disagreed quickly, shaking his head at you. "No, don't say that. You won't do this alone. I want to be here for you. I want to be a part of this. To do this together ."

Jaw tightening, your fingers gripped the fabric of your shirt like a lifeline. You wanted that, you really did, but not after what he’d put you through for the past few weeks. You couldn’t handle navigating pregnancy and raising a young child with a father who was unreliable, always in and out of the picture at their own leisure. That would only make things worse, and it would only hurt you and eventually this child more.

“We can’t, Matt,” you said, forcing the words out. “I can’t depend on you. And if I can’t depend on you–if I can’t trust that you’ll be there when we need you–then I don’t want that. Because you’ll only cause more pain.” 

You bit your lip, struggling to get the words out as you watched Matt crumple to his knees before you. He was openly weeping now, each strangled sob only causing your heart to ache further. There was no pleasure to be gained in watching how broken he looked right now, bent in half on his knees before you with tears streaming down his face, but you knew this was what you needed to do.

“If the responsibilities of a committed relationship were already too much for you,” you continued, voice cracking on a few words, “then I don’t think you’re ready to be a father, Matt. Not like that. Not now, at least.”

“Sweetheart, don’t,” he choked out. “Please.”

Eyes snapping shut at his plea, you couldn’t look at him as you forced yourself to finish what you knew you had to tell him. It was for the best in the end. 

“I’m nine weeks along,” you told him, eyes still clamped shut. “So there’s–there’s not really anything for you to be a part of at the moment, Matt.” Swallowing hard, you tried to ignore the way it felt like someone was squeezing your heart. “I don’t need your help with anything. And maybe–maybe farther along we can set something up for you to occasionally hear the baby or feel their movements, but until they’re born…there’s not really anything more for you here right now.”

“Don’t say that,” he begged. “Please don’t say that. I’ll fix this! I promise I’ll fix it!”

You swiftly turned around, burying your face in your hands. Telling Matt all of this pained you far more than you imagined it would. It didn’t help that there was a small part of you that felt like you might’ve been making a mistake. That somewhere in the back of your mind there was a small voice wanting you to turn back around and give him another chance. To let him try to prove himself. To see if he could fix things.

But you ignored that voice, shoving it far away. He’d walked out on you. What you were doing now was not the same.

“Please leave, Matt,” you whispered. 

You didn’t wait for a response before you stepped into your bedroom, closing the door behind you and hurrying over to your bed. Climbing into it, you threw the blankets over yourself, burying your face in the pillow and trying to muffle the sound of your crying. In the hallway you heard Matt slowly rise to his feet, his sobs still audible to you in the bedroom. But he didn’t follow after you. Instead, you heard him make his way out to your living room, sliding a window open as he stepped out onto your fire escape. Then you heard the soft thump of your window closing after him.

That’s when you let yourself openly weep, crying into your pillow until you eventually cried yourself to sleep.

Furious at himself, Matt slammed the door to his roof access behind himself with a sharp bang that echoed loudly throughout his apartment. Tearing his helmet from off of his head, he stormed over to the stairs before he stomped his way down them, his boots landing with a heavy thud along each step. At the bottom, overcome with sheer rage, he threw his helmet forcefully from his hands with a roar. He heard the way it flew across the room and skidded along the floor before slamming loudly into the radiator. 

Matt began to tear his gloves from his hands after, his chest heaving with fury and shame and despair. He threw each glove roughly onto the floor next beside his boots, pissed at himself. Pissed at Daredevil. Pissed at everything.

You were pregnant. That’s what you’d been wanting to tell him that night. And like the fucking piece of shit he was–self-sabotaging as Foggy always told him–he’d yelled at you. Pushed you away. Abandoned you. And all you’d wanted was him. For him to be there for you.

And he hadn’t even given you something so goddamn simple as that.

“Fuck!” he cursed loudly.

In his agitation, he began to pace the length of his apartment like a feral cat. His hands were in his hair, roughly tugging at the strands as more tears slipped down his cheeks. He had fucked things up far more than he’d realized. But knowing that you were carrying his child? How was he supposed to let that go?

He loved you. Truthfully he loved you more than the city he swore to protect, even if he’d been an absolute asshole when it came to showing that to you lately. Because you were right. His actions hadn’t shown that you were his priority. 

With an enraged growl Matt’s hands darted out, grabbing onto his kitchen table and violently flipping it over. Everything on it clattered noisily to the floor, but he couldn’t have cared less. He was fuming and too far gone in his thoughts. He could feel the Devil’s wrath inside of himself, begging him to be released. He could hear the Devil’s voice telling him that he did this to himself. That he got what he deserved. That he’d never be good enough for you or anyone. That he’d be a terrible father.

Gritting his teeth roughly together, his breathing came in sharp and hard. His hands landed on his hips as his eyes clamped shut, the muscles jumping in his cheeks as he tried to quiet that voice in his head.

Because no. That was wrong. 

Exhaling a rough breath, he tried to regain his composure. You deserved better, that was true. He hadn’t been treating you the way he should’ve been before things had ended. That was on him. But you and his unborn child deserved better. And he was going to give you both that.

So that’s what he would do. He’d find a way to fix things. To prove how wrong you were about him not wanting to be a father and about him not loving you more than Hell’s Kitchen. To find a way to get you to trust him again, feel capable of depending on him. And while he knew he couldn’t give up the Devil, he knew he could learn to compromise. To truly be there for you. And he’d do whatever it took for however long it took for you to trust him again. Because you and that baby were his family. 

You and that baby were his.

Tag List: @mattmurdocksstarlight @just-going-through-the-motions @paracosmic-murdock @yeonalie @auroraslibrary @1988-fiend @will-delete-this-later-probably @two-unbeatable-beaters @danzer8705 @ragamuffin285 @callmebrooklynbabes @spookyboogyuniverse @peachy-aisha @stevenknightmarc @nerdytreeflower @fucktthisworld @remuslupinwifee @kmc1989 @thychuvaluswife @mywellspringoflife @thornbushrose @yarrystyleeza @shiorimakibawrites @marvelcinematiquniverse @vallovesthedilfs @scoliobean @this--is--music @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @swissy23 @lilthbunny @that-girl-named-alex @warsaur @lareinaisabelle @pazii

[golbrocklovely]

careful what you wish for // sam and colby (pt. 4)

A/N: first off, terribly sorry this came out so late. i've had a hectic last couple days, and didn't get to finish this fic up until tonight. and sadly, this the last thing i'm posting for my 13 nights of halloween. it's crazy to think that this is finally over. to anyone curious i will be getting back to answering asks by tomorrow. i'll also be writing up my review of hell week, and any other random things i had planned to write about/review before my 13 nights. also, i know so many of you have been waiting eagerly for this next installment, so sorry for the long awaited update. but hopefully it's made better by this fic. happy belated halloween, and happy haunting !

prompt: sam and colby have left you high and dry, so now you've resorted to possibly hooking up with a coworker at an event. but sam and colby will be having NONE of that. || vampire!sam and demon!colby x fem!reader

trigger warning: SO MUCH SMUT, manipulation via powers (surprise! it's not you this time), fucking in a public, fucking with a crowd watching, the crowd is also all of your coworkers, dumb business shit that i know nothing about bc i went to school for theater and work in retail lol, fourth wall break (spooky), cursing, degrading language, being bit but no blood drawn), mentions of: princess, baby girl, baby, slut, whore, called a fleshlight once, unprotected sex (but no fear of getting pregnant bc they're supernatural), gets a bit dark and possessive towards the end, heavy use of MINE and OURs, snc own you so…. if you don't like that don't read,

word count: 7077

~~~~~~~~~

It was Halloween night, and while you usually looked forward to Halloween, this night was a bit different. The company you worked at was having their annual 'Final Fiscal Quarter Party'. The higher ups agreed that it would be easier to throw it during October, rather than in December. Individual offices could throw their own then, but the main, big event was happening tonight.

Your company rented out a huge hotel ballroom. There was catering, a local DJ playing some family friendly tunes, and a stage where awards were going to be given out. You had been to a couple of these events over the years, but they were always very... boring. You would much rather be at home, snuggled up, watching a scary movie.

Or maybe getting fucked by your... boyfriends? It was hard to describe the relationship you had with Sam and Colby. They used you, but you used them. It was a very symbiotic relationship in that way. But currently, you weren't really too keen on them.

You considered hitting up your old friend, Jess. She was the one, after all, that magically brought Sam and Colby into your life. You hadn't talked to her in a long time. It could be because she still blamed you for the book permanently shutting and ruining her dating life forever.

She could bitch all she wanted, but she wasn't the one being stalked and fucked by a demon and a vampire.

You had grown a bit tired of Sam and Colby, their antics, and their overall ability to flip your world upside down. The sex was great, obviously. But at what cost?

Not to mention, they hadn't spoken to you, or showed up, in months. You were going through a bit of a dry spell, and hated the fact that they hadn't answered your calls. So, it did cross your mind to get rid of them. Permanently.

But that was an issue for another time. Right now, all you had to focus on was getting just drunk enough to enjoy this stuffy party, but not too drunk that you get messy.

And that came a bit easy for you. Across the bar, a handsome man smiled at you, giving you a nod as you accepted his drink. You could see his paper nametag said Brian, and you hadn't recognized him from your own office - so he was a safe bet. God knows you weren't the only one trying to hook up with someone tonight. Plenty of colleagues from different divisions were going to be getting crazy tonight. It was an inside joke amongst the company that this night was usually a fuckfest.

You gazed over at Brian, admiring his silky quaffed hair and great suit. He had a lovely smile; one he shot your way over the glass of whiskey he had in his hand.

A man like Brian seemed... dependable. A good choice for a significant other. Boring, basic, Brian. Maybe that's exactly what you needed. Something steady and settled. Not... supernatural.

Yeah, but could you ever fuck a man like Brian? A man like him could never fulfill your needs. You could hear Colby's voice in the back of your head.

You rolled your eyes, taking a long sip from your wine glass. No. Brian might seem a bit basic on the surface, but who knows? Deep down he could be a sex god. Maybe he was packing some serious heat, and just knew all the right ways to eat a woman out. Yeah, that's what's you would be focusing on. Not the imagine that Sam and Colby would surely try to paint in your head.

You were brought out of your thoughts as the lights dimmed up and down, signaling everyone to get to their seats, as the speeches and award ceremony was going to start soon. You shot a look at Brian one more time and found your seat quickly.

The head of the company sauntered up on stage as applause erupted throughout the room. He nodded his head, shooting a couple people smiles and finger guns. Eventually as the room quieted down, he stepped up to the podium, beginning his speech.

"Good evening, everyone. I'm so happy you all could make it here tonight. Happy Halloween by the way. Isn't this much better than a Christmas party?" He let out a solid laugh, swatting at the crowd jokingly. "But as I was saying, tonight we are all here to celebrate. This company might be big, but it's the little guys - the individuals - that deserve the praise the most. Sure, I'm the head and face of this place, but you guys are what make it possible."

Another round of claps came from the room. You glanced around and noticed that the chair next to you was empty. There was a name tag on the plate, designating this spot for a "Colson Brock".... whoever that was.

"Now before the awards begin, I would like to introduce you all to someone remarkable. This man has helped shape this company in many ways. And, he's incredibly sexy. So let's all give a round of applause for Samson Golbach." The CEO grinned brightly, gesturing to the side of the stage.

You raised an eyebrow, Sexy? That's a strange word to use at a business party. Not to mention, The CEO was married to a woman so... this was all a bit confusing. You awkwardly clapped as the light shined on a man with light blonde hair. He was in an all-black suit, his hair gelled in a sleek look. He waved at the crowd, smirking mischievously. He smiled once he got to the podium, his fangs glistening in the light.

Was that... Sam?

You gasped in your seat, staring up with wide eyes at the stage. It looked like him, but you had never seen him in a suit. Plus he wasn't exuding the same energy he usually would so, maybe this wasn't him. Maybe this was his doppelganger, or someone that looked extremely like him. You sat back in your chair, narrowing your eyes up at the man.

"Thank you all for having me here today. I know many of you don't know who I am, but that's by design. I purposefully like to stay in the shadows, remain almost anonymous. It's a system I built to keep this company running at breakneck speed, and so far... this has been our most successful year to date!" Samson cheered.

You could feel the room clap again, happy with Sam... Samson's words. You took a deep breath, your anger rising. This can't be Sam. Sure, it looked like him and even sounded like him. But Sam and Colby had never taken this... thing, with you outside of your own house. There was no way they would do this to you in front of all of your coworkers and colleagues.

"It's nice to finally be appreciated and received so well. I'm sure you've all had some crazy days and night working here. I usually work all hours of the night and barely get to see the sun. You would think I was some sort of a vampire or something." Samson chuckled, some members of the crowd following suit. He turned, catching your eye, and gave you a wink.

Did he just...

The chair next to you pulled back, a man sat down hastily. He cleared his throat, catching his breath. He unbuttoned his dark blue suit jacket, the silver pinstripes reflecting in the light. Your eyes traveled up the man's form, taking him in until finally stopping on his face. Everything about him was familiar, but his hair was pushed back, exposing his forehead. He took his glasses off, cleaning the lenses and sliding them back on.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me.” You growled.

The man, Colby, turned to look at you suddenly. “I'm... sorry?”

You crossed your arms tightly, sitting back in your chair. “I can't believe that you and Sam would do this.”

He gave a weary smile. “I'm so sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else.”

“Right, Colby.” You huffed.

“Colby? That's a silly name,” he chuckled. “My name is Colson.”

“Of course it is.” You turned to him sharply, “You know you two have a lot of audacity to do this.”

He shook his head awkwardly. “Again, I'm not sure what you're talking about, Miss.”

“You guys haven't spoken to me in months. I've called out to yall and got nothing back. And now you show up and want to play dress up?!” You whispered harshly. “You guys are sick.”

“I'm not entirely sure what to say. I'm not who you think I am,” he dissented. “I'm Colson Brock, not Colby, and I've never met that man on stage before in my life. But I am about to get an award from him so... if you could just stop talking to me, that would be for the best.”

You scoffed. “I swear to God, Colby-!”

You were cut off as Sam’s voice grew louder, “This award is given out to individuals that show inspiring traits and work countlessly day in and day out for us. The award for Best Dedication, Integrity, Creativity, and Knowledge goes to... Colson Brock!”

You scowled as Colby stood up, patting down his suit softly. He walked towards the stage, shooting you a smug look over his shoulder. He stepped on stage, shaking Sam's hand, and a photo was taken of the two of them holding the award.

You grabbed your purse, sneaking off to the bathroom quickly. You stumbled in, rushing to the sink and leaning against it. The bathroom was empty, just you alone. You breathed deeply, shaking your head.

That had to be Sam and Colby. There's no way that wasn't them.

But a part of you imagined, for just a moment, that maybe... it wasn't them. How could they have manipulated everyone into thinking they were real workers at this company? The CEO introduced Sam, or Samson. Colby's name, or Colson's name, was on the nametag and award.

You felt yourself flush at the thought. Oh my God, if that isn't Colby, that man out there thinks I'm absolutely insane. How the fuck am I supposed to go back to my table, sit there and eat an under seasoned chicken parm, and pretend I didn't just berate a man?

You groaned, bending down, and resting your head against the sink counter. Even when Sam and Colby weren't around, they still fucked with you.

You heard the bathroom door squeak open, your body jolting up. You didn't need another person thinking you were losing it.

Heavy footsteps crept into the bathroom, a man. A deep voice sighed, snickering lightly. You glanced up through the mirror, your eyes widening. Colby swayed in, leaning against the wall. His suit jacket was gone, now just in his button up and slacks. He rolled up his sleeves, running a hand through his hair.

“Surprise, Princess. Did ya miss us?” He teased.   

You glared, “What the fuck, Colby?”

“What?” He gestured outside the bathroom, “A bit too dramatic?”

“This is my livelihood! How dare you and Sam come and fuck this up for me!” You exclaimed, anger coursing through your veins.

“Relax, baby. We would never do anything too bad. No need to worry. Everyone will forget any of this happened. Honestly.” He put his hands up defensively. “This was all meant to be a bit of fun. We just wanted to get a rise out of you.”

“Well, you succeeded. Congratulations.” You retorted, crossing your arms.

“You should be congratulating me on my award. I have the best dedication, integrity, creativity, and knowledge.... D-I-C-K. Dick? Best dick, get it?” He bit his lip cockily, “Came up with it myself.”

“You're a fucking genius,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes. “God, I knew I should have talked to Jess sooner.”

“Jess... why does that name sound familiar?” He questioned, feigning curiosity.

“She's the one that gave me the book that made the two of you.” You explained bitterly.

“Oh, she is? I'm gonna have write her a thank you card,” he winked. “But why exactly do you need to talk to her?”

“You two... I want you gone.” You admitted.

His face dropped, “What?”

You stepped up to Colby, getting in his face. “Aren't you tired of fucking around with me? Coming and going as you please? Why am I not allowed a normal life with a normal guy?!”

The lights flickered in the bathroom, Colby's eyes turning black for a split second, his horns visible. You shuttered, pressing yourself against the counter. The lights stopped flickering, and Colby was back to normal.

He cleared his throat, loosening his tie a bit. “Because... you're ours. You belong to us.”

“Fuck you.” You spat.

“You have... multiple times,” Colby pointed out in a snarky tone. “Even last year around this time, too.”

“Last Halloween?” You thought back, and a bunch of images started popping into your mind. Sam snapped Colby's neck but was also somehow terrorizing trick-or-treaters. Colby took control of your body but was also somehow dead while you and Sam fucked in your kitchen. It was all very confusing and didn't make quite sense.

“Wait, how the hell did you both fuck me and simultaneously not?” You puzzled, aggravated.

“I guess it just depends on what you picked.” Colby smirked, “Right, reader?”

“What are you talking about?” You replied.

“Don't worry about it.” He leaned against the counter next to you, “Back to what you were saying though. So, you want a normal guy so you can live a normal life... why? Isn't it more exciting to get fucked by a demon and a vampire?”

“Yeah, but there's more to life than sex.” You argued.

He feigned shock, “Take that back.”

You jeered, “You're extra fucking annoying, you know that?”

“And you clearly need the brattiness fucked out of you. But for some reason you don't want me or Sam to do it. Why? Did you have someone else in mind?” He took a couple steps, facing you again, “Like, say... Brian.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “How do you-“

He interjected. “I'm a demon. I know a lot of things. Not to mention I saw him and you eye-fucking each other by the bar. You're lucky I saw it and not Sam. Because Brian would be drained dry by now. Still probably will be.”

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, fine. I was eye-fucking Brian. And why am I not allowed to? Yall have been gone for months.”

“But you've been putting that toy of yours to such good use,” Colby taunted.

“You're an asshole.” You shot back.

“Thank you. I appreciate the love,” he smiled genuinely. “But I gotta ask, do you really think a man named 'Brian' can make you come like we can? Be honest with yourself on that.”

“That's not the only reason I want him,” you responded sassily. “Plus, he could be really good at sex.”

“Okay then. Let's find out.” Colby stomped over to the door, yelling out, "Brian! Get in here!"

You furrowed your brow, confused as to what Colby had up his sleeve. What the hell was he bringing Brian in here for?

Brian stepped in, glancing between the two of you. He had a dazed look on his face, clearly entranced.

“Colby, don-“ You started.

He cut you off again, “Look, princess. You wanted to know if he's a good fuck. So, I'm giving you the chance to find out. See what a normal fucking will bring to your life.”

“You can't force him to fuck me!” You fumed.

“I mean, I definitely could, but I'm not going to.” He turned to Brian, patting his shoulder, “Brian, my guy, do you want to fuck Y/N?”

Brian nodded. “Yes.”

“That's why you were buying her drinks tonight, right?” Colby asked.

“Yeah.” Brian’s voice was dull, almost like there were no thoughts behind his eyes.

“Such an honest man,” Colby commented. “Do you find her attractive?”

“Of course.” Brian agreed.

“Would you sleep with her if she said yes?” He continued.

Brian blinked, “Yes.”

Colby looked at you, “There we go. Happy?”

“I'm not fucking him in here, or in front of you.” You retorted, leaning back against the counter.

“Don't you want to prove me wrong? Don't you want to wipe the smug look off my face when he makes you come with his tongue? Or his totally, not average sized, dick?” Colby stepped up to you, his voice low, “The moment I walked in here, you got wet.”

A rush of blood came to your cheeks, your breath hitching.

“No amount of blushing can hide that deep down, you're a slut that wants to be fucked - pretty much - anywhere. And you're only giving me lip because we left you cold and alone for a couple months. I'm sorry about that. I truly wished I listened to your pleads...” he leaned in, kissing your cheek. “And cries...” he moved to the other cheek, giving it a quick kiss. “And screams,” he kissed your forehead gently. “Begging me to come fuck you. But absence makes the heart grow fonder. And this, right here, is my apology to you.”

You stood still, unsure what to do. Part of you did want to fuck Brian, just because you did find him hot. But with Colby standing next to him... it was no contest.

“Here. I'll sweeten the deal,” Colby offered. “If he makes you come, we'll leave. Forever.”

You froze, “Really?”

“No, probably not. The whole magical book kinda forbids that. But we will leave here, and you and Brian can go on your merry way and you two can go have beautifully... vanilla, sex.” He smiled dryly.

“Lucky for Brian, I'm already wet.” You quipped, glaring.

“Perfect. Brian, give the lady what she wants.” He gasped, “Ooh, can I choose what he does? Pleaseeeee?”

You blinked, giving the slightest nod.

“You are so generous.” Colby spun to him, “Brian, do you want to eat her out?”

“I would... but I don't do that.” Brian spoke monotone.

Colby’s face dropped, almost mimicking yours. “You don't give head? Sloppy toppy? None of that?”

“No.” Brian replied.

“This is the man you want, huh? Absolute loser,” Colby pointed at him, rolling his eyes. “Well, Brian, now you do. So, go crazy.”

Brian turned to you, a lustful look overcoming him. He dropped to his knees, crawling towards you. Your heart raced, watching his every move. His hands wrapped around your ankle, slowly kissing up your leg gently. The sensation sent a shiver up your spine, your head falling back a bit.

Colby leaned against the wall, studying you. His face was blank, almost uninterested. You glared at him, trying to ignore his presence. He smiled, giving a little wave.

Brian nibbled on your inner thigh, his fingers stroking up and down the center of your underwear. He brushed against your clit, your knees almost buckling.

“You're wet, Y/N.” Brian hummed in awe.

“Yeah, that's what happens when you turn a woman on.” He leaned in, whispering to you, “Is he new around here or...?”

“Shut up, Colby!” You groaned. “Keep going Brian, please. I need you.”

“Don't take it too personally, Brian. She says that to everyone. Especially me.” Colby grinned.

“Drop dead.” You hissed.

He remarked, “I'm not really alive so...”

Brian pulled down your underwear, letting them fall down your legs and to the floor. The cool air hit your hot sex, making your body tense up. Brian leaned in, his mouth connecting with your clit.

You closed your eyes tightly, allowing the sensation of his tongue to arouse you more. It was a slow build, that was for sure. Nothing like Sam and Colby and the way they did things. But it was still nice.

But maybe not what you needed.

You placed your hand on the back of Brian's head, pushing him more into your heat. He grunted, the vibrations feeling fantastic against your clit. You amped up your moans, hoping it was believable to Colby.

He yawned, gazing at you bored. You shook your head, deciding to ignore Colby. You were determined to come, to make them leave. But Brian was not helping you, which was upsetting.

“Brian, baby... go a little faster please.” You begged, annoyed.

He nodded, moving his tongue hastily. You could feel the pleasure build more, but it was still a long way away from being close to an orgasm. He slid a finger in, pumping in and out sloppily. You groaned, feeling even less turned on suddenly.

“I guess I know why you don't give head.” Colby swatted at Brian, “Move.”

Your eyes widened, “What? No! Brian, st-”

“I know you want to come so we leave, but that ain't gonna happen with Brian over here.” Colby mentioned.

"Well, maybe he could fuck me!" You argued, gesturing to his dick.

“But I'm not hard.” Brian stated.

Colby raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Eating pussy isn't really a turn on for me.” Brian informed.

“God, Y/N, you really know how to pick them.” Colby pulled him up by his arm, smiling sinisterly. “Brian, why don't you leave and go find Sam? I think he can teach you a valuable lesson on what happens to men that don't please their women.”

Brian turned and left, not saying another word. You huffed, glaring harshly at Colby. “Your little glares aren't going to do anything to me, sweetheart. If anything, they just make me hard.”

Colby's hand slid down and cupped your sex, palming your clit gingerly. You gasped, back arching as you pressed yourself against the counter. Colby barricaded you in, his hand beginning to make small circles on your clit.

“This is how a man fucks a woman like you.” He uttered, staring at you intensely.

“But you're not eating me out.” You challenged.

Colby cocked his head. “If you wanted my tongue, you could have just asked.”

You suddenly felt a tongue licking at your entrance, your body shuttering in ecstasy. “Fuck, h-how-?”

"Did you forget I have abilities? Is it because the horns aren't here?" The lights flickered, and when they turned back on, his horns were out. “How about now? Do you remember what I am now?”

"Yeaahhh, I remember." You whined, your head falling back in pleasure.

“You are so sexy when you get close to coming. God, it makes me hard just thinking about it.” Colby pushed his clothed, growing dick against your thigh, “Do you feel me?”

You nodded mindlessly, your hands gripping his forearms.

“Princess?” He asked innocently.

“Uh-huh?" You murmured.

“I think that's enough for you." All the sensations stopped, Colby pulling away from you.

“Wha-? No. No! Colby, please.” You grumbled.

He asserted, “It's time for you to be punished.”  

“What did I do?” You questioned, your mouth a gape.

"I'm sorry, was Brian that forgetful or do you like playing dumb?" Colby spun you around, making you face the mirror. He rolled your dress up a bit, pressing his bulge against your bare ass. "Here's what's going to happen. I'm gonna start fucking you, and you have to remain quiet. Just like you were with Brian."

You lowered your voice, “Why do I have to be silent?”

“Because otherwise, you'll get caught.” He whispered cheekily.

The door busted open, and a gaggle of women came in, chit chatting like there wasn't a demon about to fuck you right against the sink.

You gulped; your voice even quieter. “What the fuck, Colby?!”

"Don't worry, princess. If you remain silent, they won't see you. But once you make a single noise, they'll know. They'll know that you are a dirty slut that likes to get fucked in the bathroom. That you're so desperate for dick that you'd let a demon fuck you. And a vampire." He tsked sassily, "Double greedy."

Colby unbuttoned his pants, giving your ass a slap as his cock sprang free. You bit your lip, holding back a gasp.

"You ready for me, baby?" He lined himself up with your entrance, sliding along your lips. Then finally, he glided his cock in.

You trembled from the sensations, direly wanting to moan along with him. But you didn't want to get caught. Being fucked while others were around, whether they could see you or not, was embarrassing enough.

But also incredibly thrilling.

Colby thrusted deeply, his cock hitting the right spot over and over again. You felt overwhelmed, but in the best way. Your body already felt like it was building rapidly, your legs shaking under your weight. You felt like your skin was on fire, burning against the cool air.

A lady walked up to the sink next to you, washing her hands and looking at herself in the mirror. You shuttered out a breath, Colby picking up his pace.

“Don't look at her, Y/N. Look at yourself in the mirror. Watch yourself get fucked.” He commanded breathlessly.

You turned your head, staring straight. He smirked at you in the mirror, keeping his pace the same while lazily pulling off his tie.

"This is what you deserve, sweetheart. You're such a slut for me." He yanked your hands behind your back, tying them easily with his tie. He gripped your connected hands, bucking his hips harder and faster now.

Your body buzzed erotically, your hips gyrating in time with Colby's. You could feel your edge building; all you had to do was stay quiet.

Colby slid one hand down between your legs, finding your swollen clit instantly. He rubbed it faster than his thrusts, causing your whole body to jolt. You sucked in a harsh breath, knowing you shouldn't have. But God... the sensation was too much for you to stay quiet.

The women in the bathroom looked around, confused.

"Baby, do you want to get caught or something? Because you are being awfully loud. Maybe you need something in your mouth to quiet you down." He snaked his other hand up towards your face, his two fingers rubbing along your lips. You parted your mouth, allowing his fingers inside.

He cursed, “That's fucking it baby. Be a good girl and suck them for me.”

You sucked his fingers like your life depended on it. He finger-fucked your mouth in time with his dick, both speeding up as the minutes passed. You could feel yourself getting close, knowing that your orgasm was imminent.

“It's been too long since the last time you sucked my cock.” He chuckled darkly, “Maybe later you do that for me. Wouldn't you want that, princess?”

You nodded desperately, bucking your hips wildly against his cock and hands. You were about to explode, your edge hitting its peak. This is all you wanted for the last couple months: to be fucked hard and well. And that's what Colby was doing.

“You almost ready to come? Build up baby. Suck my fingers dry. Suck them like you would my dick.” You took his fingers deeper, gagging around them. You pumped yourself on his cock, whimpering. "There you go, baby. What a good girl." Colby leaned in, his horns grazing your cheek as he uttered, "My good girl... Come for me."

Your body spasmed around Colby's cock, bouncing on it helplessly. You moaned loudly around his fingers, not caring if anyone heard. You had been so focused on staring in the mirror at yourself getting fucked that didn't see that you and Colby were all alone in the bathroom once more. His eyes bore at you in the mirror, flashing to black.

Relaxing your hips, his cock pulled out of you for a moment, letting you relax. You felt your juices run down your inner thigh, your body still running high. You leaned down, placing your head against the counter as you took some deep breaths.

“Hi there, baby girl. “A familiar voice came from behind you, but it wasn't Colby's. You looked up quickly, Sam now behind you, and Colby was nowhere to be seen. Sam waved back at you in the mirror, smirking. "You ready for me now?"

“W-Where is Colby?” You stuttered, your pussy twitching at the thought of Sam's hard cock.

"Oh, you don't need to worry about him. He'll be back soon enough." Sam traced a finger along your sex, gasping. "God baby, you are so wet. Completely soaking yourself."

He took his finger into his mouth, tasting you. "Fuck, I missed that."

Your mouth hung open, watching him through lustful eyes. His hand snaked around to the front of your body, grabbing your neck firmly. He pulled you flush against his partially exposed body, his cock hard against your ass. "We give you everything you could ask for, and you still wanted someone like Brian? How pathetic."

He forced your head to look at yourself in the mirror, "You are a desperate slut just begging to be fucked. But we're the only ones that can make you feel this good."

Sam slammed his hips into yours, his cock taking you deeply. You grunted loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. He took advantage of your still tied up hands, holding them tightly. His other hand raced up your back, lowering you down to the sink. He placed you flat against the counter, fucking you harshly. You shook with each of his thrusts, mewling at every in and out.

“You think you get to choose who fucks you now? You think you can move on from us?” He fumed, his cocking hitting your spot repeatedly.

You panted, “Noooo.”

“There is no one other than us. Let me make that abundantly clear: you're ours.” Sam's fangs sunk into your skin, your eyes widening. He continued to bite you all over, barely drawing any blood, but marking you; letting everyone know you were taken.

Your second orgasm was close. You needed this second one badly, itching to come sooner rather than later. You could feel how desperate and hot and slutty it was turning you.

“Baby girl, do you deserve to come? Have you been good?” Sam questioned.

You nodded, your whole body shaking, “Yessss. Yes I have. Please Sam! Please!”

He pulled you up again, locking eyes with you in the mirror. His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing tightly. “Ride my dick, baby. Make yourself come on my dick.”

You uncontrollably bucked your hips, whining on his cock. His hold on your neck tightened just enough, making it hard to breath and your vision blurring. The lack of oxygen made your orgasm hit twice as hard. You soaked his member, moving mindlessly on it until you finally finished. Your legs gave out a bit, Sam catching you. He snickered, his red eyes taking you in through the mirror.

The doors to the bathroom busted open again, a random lady coming in. She turned and looked at the two of you, not even acknowledging what she had to be seeing. "Y/N, you need to come out there quick."

You were taken aback by this woman, unsure of who she was or what the hell she wanted you for. "W-what are you talking about?" You rushed, shimmying your dress down, trying to cover yourself back up.

“They're calling your name. You won an award!” She exclaimed, leaving the bathroom happily.

You furrowed your brow, turning to Sam. But he was gone. Those powers of their really do come in handy for moments like these.

You shuffled out of the bathroom, even more confused as you glanced around at everyone from your company. They were all looking at you, smiling brightly and being congratulatory. You walked towards the stage, the people directing you, and as you got closer, you saw Sam and Colby on it, holding a plaque of some sort.

Sam pulled you on stage, kissing your cheek sweetly. Colby handed you the award, shaking your hand dramatically. You took the award in your hand, turning it to see what it said.

“Give it up for Y/N everyone. The biggest slut of the year!” Sam yelled into the microphone. “Congratulations baby, you deserve it.”  

You gawked at Sam and Colby, the reality of what they did hitting you. You threw the award on the ground, glaring at them harshly.

“Hey now, we worked really hard on that.” Sam pouted.

“Fuck you, how dare you make me a fool in front of everyone!” You ranted, getting in their faces.

"Princess, no one is gonna remember this. And luckily, no one will remember this either." Colby smiled devilishly.

Sam and Colby grabbed at your dress, tearing it off your body like it was made of cheap fabric. The crowd cheered, your body heating up immediately as you were suddenly naked in front of everyone.

“Now, don't argue with us, plaything. You can bitch and moan all you want to but being fucked in front of everyone... turns you on.” Colby wrapped his arms around you, whispering in your ear, “No matter how much you want to deny it, you can't deny how drenched you are right now.”

Your body quivered as Colby's fingers slipped easily into your cunt. You fell back against him; his suddenly naked body cool against your hot skin. Sam sauntered up to you, rubbing his hands up and down your torso. His hands kneaded your breasts, nipples aching to be touched.

Sam laughed, “Look at her, Colby. She can't even argue with us. She knows that we're right. She is the biggest slut of the year. She's our slut, our toy, our plaything. Ours. Forever.”

The room erupted in applause, some even screaming out your name.

“Let's give them a show, princess,” Colby gestured to the eager crowd. Let the people see the real slut you are. Isn’t that what you want? To be fucked in front of everyone.”

You couldn't think anymore. Every sensation was overpowering your thoughts. You knew deep down that Sam and Colby were right, and all you could think of was how badly you wanted to come again.

You nodded feverishly, your hands automatically pawing at both of their bodies. The air around you changed once you said yes, your body being positioned graphically. Forced down onto your knees, Colby stood in front of you, while Sam was behind you.

“Aww, baby. Look, it's your favorite positions: on your hands and knees, getting railed by us.” Sam jested playfully.

Your sex throbbed, direly needing them inside of you. You whined, looking up at Colby. “Please, just fuck me. No more teasing.”

Colby stared into your eyes, jerking himself off right in front of your face. “You want this, huh? You want me in your mouth. Say it.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “I want you in my mouth.”

“And what about me, toy?” Sam slapped your ass, making you look back at him.

“Fuck, I need it. I need the both of you so bad!” You cried, grinding your hips back against Sam.

Hoots and hollers sounded off around the room. You glanced at the crowd, their hungry eyes taking your desperate form in.

“Fine then, since you asked so nicely,” Colby cupped your face, turning your head back to his cock. The tip pushed against your mouth, sliding in easily. He moaned lowly, almost animalistically. Sam teased his cock along your entrance, slipping in effortlessly.

Once they were in you, you sighed deeply. It felt so good to be surrounded by Sam and Colby, to be filled by them. They had you right where they wanted you, and you loved every second of it.

And the crowd seemed to love it even more.

They started off slow, taking their time to build your pleasure up. There was nothing else on your mind. All you could think about was their cock and how much you wanted them to come deep inside of you.

Colby gaped, “Oh princess, you have the filthiest mind. Maybe even dirtier than ours.”

“That's why she's our slut. We are just innocent people being used by this whore of a woman,” Sam shuttered, lulling his head back as he fucked you. “And God, I love every second of it.”

“I could fuck this mouth for hours. How does that sound, sweetheart? You love that idea, don't you?” Colby breathed, biting his lip, staring down at you.

You nodded enthusiastically, taking his shaft deeper. He grunted, hips twitching. His hand rested on your head lightly, pulling your hair softly. His grip tightened, causing you to gag around him.

Sam cursed, “Fuuuuck, she clenched around me when gagged. Keep doing that, baby girl. That felt so good.”

“Y/N, how can you get all of this, all of us, and still want something else? Especially Brian. What a fucking loser.” Colby groaned, disgusted.

Sam agreed, grimacing. “Dude didn't even know how to eat pussy. He didn't even like eating pussy.”

The crowd booed, screaming expletives at the sound of Brian's name.

“See, everyone knows that Brian sucks. How could you ever settle for something like that when you have the best right here?” Sam inquired. “Two men willing to do anything to make you come.”

"Let me make this perfectly clear, darling," Colby pulled himself out of you, raising you up so you were eye level with him. He held your face firmly, his voice low and calm. “While I'm never the type to get jealous, and watching you get eaten out by that joke of a man was entertaining and kinda sexy, let me be honest with you.”

His face dropped, his eyes darkening with each word. "If you ever go after another man again, I will personally make sure to rip his heart out in front of you, and then I’ll breed your cunt so deeply you will feel me for days. Because there is no one else for you, princess. Just. Us. Forever. That means for eternity, you are ours. You are mine."

Sam yanked your hair, pulling you out of Colby's grip for a moment. He grunted harshly, "That goes for me too, baby girl. If you ever even breathe near another man again, I might have to drain your sexy little body dry and turn you into our immortal plaything for forever. And don't think for a second I'm bluffing."

Colby took you by the neck, pulling you back towards him, choking you lightly. All the while, Sam was still fucking you. "There is no escaping us, Y/N. We will never let you go. No matter what you do for the rest of your life, we will always be there, in the shadows, watching. We own you. And nothing will change that."

His face relaxed, going back into his casual, smug look. "So... in the meantime, enjoy yourself, princess. And open your mouth again."

He pushed you down, his cock still hard and leaking, ready to fuck your mouth. Their words sank deeply into your mind, arousing and frightening you all at the same time.

Colby thrusted himself back in, gagging you. “There you go, baby. But now, I think it's time we give the people what they want. Right, everybody?!”

The room screamed in approval, lustful energy shooting through you from the sound. Suddenly, Sam and Colby began fucking you passionately, the sheer brutal force alone bouncing you back and forth on their cocks. You whined around them, feeling yourself get lost in the feeling of being their toy.

Sam groaned a breathy sound, “God, you're basically just a fleshlight, Y/N. Don't you love being used by us?”

“You know she does, Sam. Just a set of holes for us to use.” Colby’s voice was husky and low, “God, her mouth feels incredible.”

“She's so pathetic, really. She squeezed around me so tightly when we called her names. Maybe we should do that more often.” Sam taunted.

“Of course. There are so many more names we could come up with for her. But right now, all I'm concerned about is coming down her throat and fucking her until she chokes.” Colby's hips sped up as he face-fucked you. You didn't even have time to react, your jaw becoming slack and just allowing him to take over and use it like a toy. Tears welled up and rolled down your cheeks and drool dribbled down your chin from his harsh actions.

Sam's hand went between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts. Your thighs shook from the feeling, the pleasure overwhelming.

“You're so close, aren't you, princess?” Colby panted.

Sam chimed in; his voice depraved. “Build up for us. Come with us, baby girl.”

They pounded into you in unison, almost taking the breath out of you with each thrust. The room began getting louder, chants of "Come for us" came from the crowd, building up in time with your orgasm.

Every part of this was spectacular and you couldn't get enough.

Your breathing hitched as your orgasm hit the edge, ready to fall over once they said you could. Sam and Colby kept going, kept using you, until they were ready. You begged them to let you come, your pleas muffled by Colby’s cock. Both thrusted with abandonment, needing to come just as badly as you.

Colby grunted, pulling your hair, “Fuck, fuck! Y/N, come! Come for us now!”

“Do it baby! That's fucking it, YES!” Sam growled, his fingers bruising your hips as he held them tightly.

All three of you exploded in euphoric pleasure, bellowing out in ecstasy. The crowd roared as Sam and Colby filled you up with their cum. You released around Sam's cock, soaking him. You swallowed as much of Colby's cum as you could, gagging as he hit the back of your throat repeatedly until finally slowing his hips down. Sam slammed inside of you once more, grunting out a strained cry. Your body was spent, exhausted from being fucked so many times. You felt yourself black out, unable to stay awake a moment longer.

When you came to, you were in your hotel room, inside the same hotel the event had taken place at. You felt sore everywhere, knowing that wasn’t a dream. You sighed happily, snuggling into bed. You noticed a note on the side of your pillow. You picked it up, reading it quickly.

Ours.

- Sam and Colby

<< Part 3B || Part 5 >>

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest & @steddie-spooktober.

My Own Version of You

CCF Prompt: Pride & Spooktober Prompt: Frankenstein Friday | Word Count: 1313 | Rating: M | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | CW: Mild Gore, Body Parts, Consent/Ethics (it is a take on Frankenstein) | Tags: Monster AU, Mad Scientist Eddie, His Henchmen, Reanimation, Steve Was Dead and Now This?, Crack Taken Seriously, Spooky Season Fun

Eddie leaves another morgue, another monastery, his bag full of perfect body parts growing fuller every stop. He's going to do this. He can do it. He knows it. 

Eddie hands his spoils off to his assistant.

"Carry this, Igor," Eddie says, slinging the heavy bag over his hunchback.

"Gareth," Igor says, and Eddie sighs.

"Igor Gareth," Eddie says. Yes, yes, always with the full name, but Eddie's not really paying attention to him. He never is. Eddie's too blinded by his own brilliance. Only his own thoughts matter. Not whatever Igor thinks. If he can think. 

This is going to be an innovation unlike any other ever known to mankind. And it has come from his own outstanding brain. Some may call him a freak for even trying, but they'd be wrong.

Because he's a genius, mastering this. 

Well, to be honest, he's never done anything like it before. But he's still certain he's more than capable. He knows his brilliant mind has been stifled by the lack of advancement of technology. That's the only reason he's had an inability to bring things to fruition.

Well, he'll just have to force the world to get up to speed with his brain. He's been working on his contraption for years. Eddie's Ladder. The staff of the castle, working to meet his every whim.

Jefferson and The Freak. Igor Gareth. He's gathered a band of henchmen, and they're there to follow his orders, to bend to his every whim.

If they'll only follow his instructions, precisely and perfectly, Eddie can bring someone to life. Someone that feels as he feels.

They've had so many dry runs that haven't met Eddie's standards. Dead animals, brought back feral. A heart kept beating for weeks. And they've produced at least a dozen inarticulate, snarling monsters that Jefferson, Freak and Igor Gareth have had to put down and bury on the grounds. It's quite unfortunate that their failings have snuffed out Eddie's dreams before they've become a reality.

He's certain he can create a full-fledged reanimated human. Not just an electrified corpse.

Eddie pets the hair of the head he's chosen as his, hopefully, final subject. He's handsome, this one. A rich kid that died of dysentery. Or something. Eddie doesn't know, or particularly care. But Eddie was careful this time. He didn't just grab any old corpse from the boneyard as he'd done before. No, he selected the best parts from all over the countryside. Because this time, it'll be perfect. 

Eddie will be perfect.

He threads the large needle, and slides it through the skin, carefully stitching together his creation, his monster, his masterpiece. 

He looks perfect. This one, a man.

"Igor, the cap," Eddie demands, holding out his hand.

"Gareth," is the response, and Eddie rolls his eyes, snatching the metal contraption.

"Igor Gareth, yes," Eddie replies. Jesus Christ. Eddie doesn't understand why this kid always needs to be referred to by his full name.

Eddie attaches the electrodes, the cap, and stands back, ready to pull the lever that will control all the electricity that he's certain will be able to jumpstart his, hopefully final, creation to life.

Freak has installed a lightning rod on the tower, and now Eddie must wait for the storm to roll in, reach a crescendo, and then he'll get to finish his life's work this time.

The storm is finally blowing in, and Igor Gareth is stationed in the tower, waiting near the bell. He's to be the final alarm. The go ahead.

Then, it's finally happening. 

Eddie hears the thunder. The rain. The lightning cracking across the sky. 

And then the bell rings out, the loud clanging from the tower his notification to pull, and Eddie yanks down the lever, sending the current through the wires, creating the arc, the spark, to jumpstart his creation, his invention, his monster.

The body jolts, and shakes, and shimmies against its leather restraints. Bucking wildly as Eddie watches, eyes wide, enthralled. 

Finally his eyes open. Golden flecks over brown, and Eddie wonders if he's all there. If he's been able to finally bring back actual consciousness, or if this one's just another in a long line of reanimated corpses destined to exist in a zombie-like state until they're dealt with.

Eddie snaps his fingers in front of its face, and its eyes dart towards Eddie's hand, then Eddie's face. An improvement from the last one at least, for sure.

"What the fuck?! Ow!" his creation yells, and Eddie claps his hands in delight. He's done it. He's really done it. It's alive! It's a real man. 

Of course, he had no doubt he could do it.

His henchmen gather, and look at the naked, strapped down man, who seems very rudely ungrateful. 

"What shall I name him?" Eddie ponders aloud, stroking his chin.

"I'm Steve," his creation says.

"What does he look like to you, Igor?" Eddie asks.

"Gareth," he answers.

"I'm not naming it after you, Igor Gareth," Eddie answers, and Igor raises his hands to his head, pulling at his curls. He's an odd boy. 

"Hmm, other thoughts? Jefferson? Freak?" Eddie asks.

"Jeff," Jefferson says.

"Goodie," Freak replies.

And Eddie shakes his head. It's like these fools only know one word each.

"Perhaps Wayne. I always adored my uncle," Eddie says.

"I'm Steve. You're not naming me anything else, you asshole," his creation snaps, and Eddie just laughs.

"You're a bossy one," Eddie declares with delight, then concedes, "Fine. Steve."

"Great. Now untie me."

Eddie really doesn't want to do that until he can run more tests. Make sure he hasn't made something homicidal. That has happened a time or two. Maybe three.

Four, tops.

"Well, Steve, let's just put a pin in that," Eddie says, and Steve clearly doesn't like that, as he lunges, rattling the restraints. He's a strong one. This one is not feeble of body, or mind.

Or cock, from the looks of it. 

Eddie could work with this, as long as he can tame this pissy creature he's formed with his own two ultra-talented hands. 

"If I release you, are you gonna run?"

"From the mad scientist that's chained me up? Um, yes," Steve snaps, and Eddie laughs. He picked a good brain this time. Feisty.

"Then, I guess you'll stay tied up," Eddie insists, and if looks could kill, Eddie'd be dead. Luckily they cannot, and Steve can't move.

Too bad for him.

Eddie keeps watch for days, feeding him, taking care of him. Talking to him. Getting to know him. Trying to convince him to stay. To be Eddie's. His companion. His second. His lover.

Finally, after days, Steve agrees.

So, Eddie undoes the buckles, one at a time, the straps falling loose, and once the last one around Steve's ankle comes loose, he does just as he'd promised days ago. He runs. 

And Eddie watches in disbelief.

His henchmen will capture him.

They don't. He was too fast, too athletic, for those nincompoops, and now he's gone. 

Eddie rages. He cannot believe his own masterpiece would be so ungrateful. He was dead. And now he's not, because of Eddie. 

What an asshole he made.

He'll just have to try again. Tomorrow. 

When he leaves the castle, his body part collection bag slung over his shoulder, he sees Steve sitting against the gate.

He's relieved. He doesn't want another, he wants Steve. 

"You're still here."

"Where else was I gonna go? I'm naked."

Eddie laughs, he likes this creation. He likes Steve.

"Where're you going?" Steve asks.

"Nowhere," Eddie says, tossing the bag aside, sitting down next to Steve. He shrugs off his cloak, handing it over. "Here. Now you're not naked. You can leave, if you want."

Steve looks at him. Then says, "I think I might stay."

Eddie smiles. He made a masterpiece, the perfect man. 

The perfect Steve.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to read takes on all the Seven Deadly Sins, or to offer up your own!

For more Spooktober, pop on over to @steddie-spooktober to follow along with the fun!

Notes: The title and inspo come from the Bob Dylan song of the same name, My Own Version of You.

Eddie's Ladder is a play on Jacob's Ladder. If you've seen old horror/sci-fi flicks, you know what this is. It's that arc of electricity we've all seen a billions times on screen. It wouldn't reanimate anyone, but it sure looks like it could.

The Poor Corroded Coffin boys. Eddie didn't know any of their names, lol.

[irisintheafterglow]

Hiii! Im obsessed with your coparenting megumi series. You write all the characters so well!! Are you planning on writing more for it? No pressure just curious! <3

hi anon, thank you for the love !!! and i absolutely will continue writing coparenting megumi, so here's a new little installment :)) hopefully it's not too late in the winter for ice skating <3

cw: swearing, fluff

in hindsight, you didn't expect them to get so invested in the winter olympics. you'd turned on the channel for megumi and tsumiki to watch while you made dinner, unaware of tsumiki's sudden fascination with the world of ice skating. megumi, ever the little brother he was, begrudgingly watched with his sister but took note of how her face lit up as the skaters danced across the ice. when she burst into the kitchen, slipping and sliding across the floorboards with her fuzzy snowman socks, she could barely sputter out what she wanted this weekend's adventure to be.

"i want to go ice skating," she declared after she caught her breath, grinning so widely that it'd probably hurt her cheekbones. "please." a moment later, megumi slides into the kitchen with half as much grace as his sister but still nodding as enthusiastically.

"where'd this come from?" you smile and tap the wooden spoon against the edge of the pot. "you wanna go to the olympics like the people on tv?"

"that's in the future," tsumiki says matter-of-factly. "first, i need to get more comfortable with balancing on one foot, like a ballerina."

"ballerinas also take classes," you point out. "do you wanna start taking skating lessons? i can talk to satoru and see if-" you're immediately cut off by frantic shouts of please! and i'll do the dishes for a year! that echo off of the cupboards and disturb the peace of your neighbors.

so here you were, freezing your ass off and crisscrossing your laces over the front of your ankle, tying it into a tight bow before checking on the kids. it'd been a few weeks since tsumiki started her lessons, and you were finally able to line up you and satoru's schedules for a free day to take the whole 'family' skating. tsumiki, as expected, is practically bouncing from excitement with her skates already laced and ready to go; megumi, on the other hand, stares at the supposed shoes of death and looks as apprehensive as an emperor penguin hiking an active volcano. though he was willing to watch skating with his sister, you found that getting him to step onto any uneven surface was nearly impossible. your boyfriend is nowhere to be found after mumbling something about dinner not sitting right in his stomach and racing to the bathroom, leaving you to help tsumiki drag her little brother onto the ice.

but, she's gone as soon as her blades hit the ice and it's like you threw a caught tuna back into the ocean. there's no hesitation in the flow of her feet as they propel her forward, carefully crossing over one another around a tight turn. she'd improved astronomically since the first lesson you brought her to, even going so far as to lift one of her legs slightly off the ground and continue to glide.

"are we sure this is safe?" megumi's mumbles are barely audible as he white-knuckle grips the edge of the walls, his feet slowly making unsteady progress. you skate alongside him, not as confidently as tsumiki but not as shakily as megumi. "how many people have died while ice skating?"

"i don't know, but i guarantee you will not be one of them," you reassure him while his left hand finds a home in your right glove. a quick glance around the rink reveals satoru nowhere to be found and tsumiki cautiously practicing a spin in the middle of the ice. "you're doing great, bud. just focus on yourself and don't worry about anyone else."

"what if they knock me over?"

"i won't let them knock you over."

"but what if they try?"

"megumi, you have survived scarier things than assholes at an ice rink. just-"

a whoosh! of cold air flies past your left shoulder and you're about to curse out whoever sped past you when you catch tsumiki with her hands raised in celebration, cheering. your eyes adjust and finally recognize the shape of your boyfriend speeding around the rink, weaving between couples and eventually coming to a hockey-stop right next to you. you're shocked, to say the least, and the first thing that comes out of your mouth after you laugh surprises him.

"what the hell are you wearing?"

"it's my skating gear," he replies, giving you a lopsided smile. "surprised?"

"incredibly," you snort, taking note of the way the long-sleeved compression shirt hugged his muscles and highlighted the shoulders you ever-so-lovingly liked to bite. you knew he'd skated when he could during high school, saying something about wanting his aesthetic to match his hair, but you'd dismissed the idea without a second thought. you guessed he was counting on you to doubt his skating ability. "i can't say i don't like it, though."

"ew," megumi mutters from behind you and satoru peeks over your shoulder to find his unofficial son continue to struggle on the ice.

"hey, bud! you doing okay?" satoru's question is met with another grumble and he shrugs, undeterred. "want me to give you a little bit of help?"

"absolutely not," megumi says adamantly, tightening his hold on your hand as one of his skates veers backward for a split second. satoru disappears without another word, finding tsumiki in the middle and bending down to whisper something in her ear.

you can't hear what they're saying, but whatever satoru says makes her gasp and race over to you and megumi. she hurriedly pries megumi's fingers from your hand and replaces it with hers, quickly saying something about taking over for you. before you can question it, satoru's hand is grabbing yours and lurching you forward, faster than you had ever skated before.

"holy shit! what are you doing?" you half-laugh, half-panic with no choice but to hold on to your boyfriend for dear life. it was exhilarating, moving so quickly with such ease, but you couldn't negate the dread of what would happen if you fell. "i can't skate this fast!"

"i'm making you skate with me, so we're gonna go as fast as i want us to," he replies with a smirk over his shoulder.

"i'm going to kill you if i trip," you swear, but he laughs it off immediately. "brutally."

"like i would ever let you fall," he murmurs. he positions himself at your side while you steady your shaking skates, slowing to a halt in the middle of the ice. with no wall of safety to be found, you maintain your death grip on satoru and hesitantly push yourself forward. "look at you go, pushing off all on your own." the tease in his voice was evident, but you were too busy trying not to eat shit to scold your boyfriend.

"shut up, satoru. i'm focusing." you let go of his hand and feel his patronizing gaze burn into the back of your neck, flinching when he suddenly cuts right in front of you. your flinch throws you off balance and you jolt forward, but he immediately grabs your forearms and sets you back on your feet.

"see? told you i'd never let you fall," he says quietly with a tiny smile that breaks through your frown of concentration. your expression softens and he notices, like he always does. "there you are. think you can forgive me for pulling you out on the ice?"

"as long as we don't go as fast as last time." he grins and locks his fingers in yours. "speed up and i'm gonna hide all your favorite compression shirts."

"oh, so it's serious," he chuckles, pulling you forward and letting you mirror the glide of his skates back and out, side to side. "that's okay," he concludes, leaning over briefly to peck your cheek. "i love you more than my compression shirts."

"what a statement," you deadpan lightheartedly and he shrugs.

"honestly, it's a pretty close competition-"

"alright, that's enough. shut up and skate," you interject and start to move a little faster, his hand in yours warm and safe. "we have to get good at this if tsumiki's headed to the olympics."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[turquoizxe]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Hobart “Hobie” Brown x Spider!Fem!Reader

Author’s Note: I just want to sincerely apologize for the delay in this post, as I have been traveling out of my hometown the past few days. However, my favorite punk is still my current brain rot lmao. The second installation is already in progress, and hopefully as I have planned, it will be out by the date I posted below( after the conclusion of the first chapter). Thank you all for for love you showed on the series announcement! As I have stated in my earlier post, I haven’t written a fan fiction in over two years, dealing with school and other things in life. Please express your thoughts throughout the series and comment! I was a little nervous because I’ve never written anyone from the UK, especially with such a thick accent. Please, share your thoughts. Thank you for your understanding, and you may begin reading.

With Love,

— Turquoizxe.

Installation (1/5) : ‘Dodgy’ 

Rating ― Mature (17+)

➝ Hobie has been distancing himself quite a bit lately. You feel froggy enough to follow him and enter the world, to what is known to be the Spiderverse. He seems to enjoy your brave gesture, but he quickly realizes why you weren’t invited to join the club.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ―fluff, heavily plot based, meeting existing ATSV Characters…

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ― ATSV SPOILERS! Minor use of language and swearing, romantic tension, minor acts of violence, Hobie’s teasing, Miguel being himself, Beef w/ Jessica Drew…

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 ― 3.6k

Dodgy;  can be a synonym for dangerous, bad or untrustworthy

As much as you kept to yourself, it was hard to imagine that you would make any friends outside of your suite mates. Your eyes were always harassing a piece of literature, involved in extracurricular activities, and keeping track of random facts no one would need in their everyday lives. Nothing short of the perfect student.

"[Name], this is the fifth time you’ve been in my office in two weeks-”

“Okay, four if you don’t count the rant about my psychology professor.”

You were always an academic achiever, graduating with honors and holding the title of salutatorian in your class. Being accepted into your dream school, earning enough scholarships to cover most of your tuition.

Yet, here you were, looking for ways to save your grades with finals around the corner. Had it been a year ago, you wouldn’t have to worry. That was until you were bit by a radioactive spider the one time you decided to skip studying and attend the most underwhelming frat party that your suite was raving about.

“You’re on the verge of losing your scholarships. $25,000 a year on the line, and you tell me all the time about how hard to your parents are working to cover the rest of your tuition.”

And you knew you couldn’t afford to stay if you didn’t work your ass off to pull through. You didn’t think being spider-woman could be so stressful. Patrols have gotten more hectic, and the late nights have been affecting your attention span in class, and even less energy to do your work. It felt so easy in the beginning, and everything was good until it wasn’t.

You felt a sting on your cheek, your tears sliding past your injury from patrol, and you felt yourself become small as you placed your face in your hands, wondering how something you’ve worked so hard for is a letter grade away from being lost.

Your counselor heaves a heavy sigh, sliding tissues across their desk to you. In just a few weeks you went from acquaintances to friends.

“Look, you’re a great kid, we didn’t have this issue your freshmen year. I know it only gets tougher from here, but you can’t fight this on your own. It’s never too late to accept help.” They started typing on their computer, ringing up your transcript and current grades for the semester. A sudden swish of wind flows through the office, following the trills of birds off in the distance your counselor scoffs at the noise and walks over to close the window. They return back to their seat, muttering intelligible, the only word you could pick up, ‘spiderwoman’.

“What about spiderwoman?”

“Oh! I just kinda thought how weird it was for another spiderman to show up when we already have a hero. Funny, I didn’t know there could be multip-”

“There’s a spider-man?”

You stammered. You felt a heat in your body, another superhero here that you weren’t even sure about.

“As much as you know about everything, I thought you would hear about the spotting of a spider-man in the city. They seem to stick close to campus.”

“Any proof?”

“No. Just words, but if there’s one spider-person, why not two?”

You could feel your blood course through your veins from the new information. It was just you, unless your old mentor, Peter, came to visit. You were knocked out of your thoughts when your name was called.

“As of now, you have a 2.0,″ your counselor stated. “Your classes seem more work oriented, and out of your five classes, you only have two finals.”

You slowly looked up from your lap.

“I’ve read the syllabus, taken notes of what to study for and what to work on. It’s just-”, you stammer, not able to give them the honest truth.

“See? You already took the steps to better yourself, don’t stress, and pace yourself, you have a month left kid.”

You let out a small chuckle. More than 20 missing assignments shouldn’t be too bad to juggle, right?

You were lying to yourself, you were going to suffer, but for a positive outcome, you didn’t mind. You got yourself together, sniffling softly as you packed your things.

“I don’t wanna kick you out, but I do have to meet with the Dean-”

“You mean your lov-”

You were cut short by a small stuffed animal flying towards you, your reflexes doing you justice before the soft material made contact with your face, slamming the door, gaining a small audience as eyes turned to you.

“Sorry everyone.”

Now, for the real fun to begin, you can at least spend some time with a special someone before your academic weapon tendencies are in full force.

The night you met him, it felt like one of those nightmares that would be impossible to wake from. To you, it was a dream.

His aura, and appearance on that stage. You were enamored with his attitude. His thick accent, strumming his guitar as his eyes bored into yours. This was one of the few times you didn’t mind that you skipped class for.

After the concert, you went to refill your water bottle before your walk back to your apartment in the damning heat. You saw him, drenched in sweat, guitar on his back, hunched over, and visibly upset that the water fountain was not doing it’s job. He looks in your direction, his expression making you anxious. Yet, you were still willing to help. You essentially escorted him to your dorm, where the water system was in a decent condition. He had pretty strong opinions about the education system and society in general, though you did appreciate his intellect.

“It’s a load of tosh for ya’ to pay so much for a piece of rubbish.” 

The ways he seemed so sure of himself more often than not made you intrigued, and he was more than happy to indulge you, being nearly distracted from the fact that Satan decided to sit his bare ass cheeks on the Earth that day. He gave you his number, and from then on, he would come see you whenever you both had the time, which was rough, considering the current mess that was your life. He was the only person you felt cared enough to step you out of your comfort zone. 

The night walks on campus, your medusa piercing that he compliments all the time.

“It accentuates your features. Peng ting you are, yeah?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, a deep chuckle erupting from his throat

“Means you’re hot.”

He gets it. He gets you. And sometimes, you thought that maybe what you were feeling would never go away when you’re with him. Your hangouts were more often casual, leading to more intimate moments, mentioning him to your family, and him teaching you how to play his guitar. You began to feel it linger, when you knew you both didn’t want to say goodnight.

The immediate thought of it also breaks you.

You’ve felt that he’s been dodging you and your attempts to reach out as of late. It’s been weeks since you’ve last seen Hobie, and this time, he initiates to meet. It’s late in the night, and he’s late. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this mad at him, or if you ever got upset with him at all. You didn’t like how he started to drift away with no explanation, and instead of anger, you were filled with worry, wondering if the time you were spending together was beginning to put a strain on him. You paced around your living room, muttering words and contemplating sending an annoyingly long paragraph of a text that would make it seem like you were dumping him.

“S’mitten for me, are you love?”

You looked up at your window, the tall brit leaning on the emergency stairs, making himself at home as you pulled away.

“In your dreams, Brown.”

He walks up to you, his lanky frame hovering over you so expectantly. You looked down at your feet, almost embarrassed of your newfound feelings, and you feel even more giddy when he stands close to you. He knew that you liked him, but teasing you was his second favorite pastime besides hanging out with you. You walked away to your kitchen, grabbing an energy drink for the both of you. Silence did not exist when you were together, and the awkwardness of it all was not helping. He bit his lip, his teeth caught in his piercing. He knew he was in trouble.

“I know you’re upset.”

“Hobs, you were supposed to be here 2 hours ago, I understand being busy but I thought you were seriously hurt or something”, you exclaimed, turning away from him. Showing up late was a recurring issue with him, and you’ve had just about enough.

“Oh don’t get cheeky now. You’ve been neglectin’ your studies. A bit daft if you ask me.”

You’re eye twitched at his use of his slang, sometimes you didn’t always need him to explain to know that what he was saying had negative connotations.

“That’s none of your concern, it’s you I’m worried about.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he smirks. There wouldn’t be a point in arguing with him about this, handing him his drink, turning on your television, starting the episode of your favorite series where you had both left off.

You sat farther away from him than usual, occasionally glancing in his direction, and unfortunately, he was staring right back at you, even more intense.

“I don’t bite, unless ya’ ask,” he teases, softly patting a seat closer to him, and you oblige. It wasn’t like you weren’t happy to see him, and he chuckles at your annoyed compliance. It was becoming an awkward staring contest, and you quickly lost track of the media playing on your screen. You open your mouth, just out of curiosity.

“So, how’s life treating you?”

“Fighting fascists, new piercings, performin’, ” he looks over to you, taking another sip of his drink, awaiting for a life update on your part. You bit your lip, anxiety getting the best of you. Despite the closer proximity, you still felt to far away from him. He sighs, using his leg to move your body to face him. You quiver, tears threatening to spill from your face once again, but you still looked up.

He looked at you, seeming nonchalant, but you still felt the worry in his aura.

“I know you want me to squash it, but it’s obvious s’omething bigger is bothering you,” he softly speaks, his thumb circling into your knee. “You act as if you’re scared of somethin’— of someone.”

Hobie scoots closer to you, using guiding your chin to make you look at him directly for the first time tonight.

“Talk t’me.”

You shake away from him, that feeling in the pit of your stomach only becoming more intense.

“I can’t tell you everything, Hobs.”

“But you can tell me anythin’, yeah?”

You look up, his face was close to you now, not realizing that you were nothing leaning into each other the more you spoke. His hand, slowly sliding to your hips, slowly stroking your stretch marks that your shirt wasn’t covering. You looked into his eyes, a small smile showing.

“There she is,” he exaggerates, giving you a soft squeeze, and you let out a giggle. The moment was yet again, cut short by that annoying ass beep from his wristwatch, that has interrupted your meaningful conversations countless times. Hobie curses from under his breath, backing away from you, the light illuminating his flawless features. And just like that, the moment has passed. His eyes look up to you, disproval in your expression, and you knew what was coming next, so you did it for him.

“Just go.”

Hobie let out a deep sigh before apologizing for what felt like the thousandth time, knowing he would do this the next time you make an attempt to make time for each other.

But this time, you were going to figure out why.

—

As soon as he had left, your senses went off. And this was the last time you were going to ignore them.

You had quickly went off into your room after he left, frantically throwing around your belongings to find your suit before Hobie got too far from you. You had followed him, all the way to an one of the abandoned buildings on campus that was currently under renovation. You stood behind a slab of concrete, peeking from the side, watching as he walked through a portal as if it were just another day.

But you saw, and now you knew. Your suspicions proved you right once again.

You flicked your wrist, webbing into the portal before it closed in on you.

And now, there you were, caught by Hobie after catching your ankle so you wouldn’t plunge to certain death after following him through his portal, seeking nothing but a dark abyss before you, seeming bottomless.

You turned towards him, a smirk plastered across his face.

“I fuckin’ knew it.”

You webbed free from his grip, finding ground. You looked at his appearance, and now you knew why he wore such familiar colors. Your suit hugged your body, adorned in your favorite colors, riddled with black accents. Hobie looked you up and down, whistling in admiration, while you took in your surroundings. HQ did not look like this at all when you first arrived.

“Place look familiar?”

You had brushed yourself off, taking in the countless people that had suits similar to yours. The unique design of the interior, and many, many, familiar faces.

“The Spiderverse.”

“Hey I call it the same thing!”

You turned in the direction of the speaker, a young boy standing in front of you. He had a black suit, red accents riddled across, two other spider men following behind you, staring at you in admiration.

“I’m Miles!”

You were still floored by all that had occurred in just a few moments. Slowly, you raised your hand, waving to the kid, smiling at him.

“Hi Miles, I’m [Name].”

“Oh, Hobie! Did we get a new recruit?”

A spider woman in a white suit walked up behind him, her pink hair flowing, and eyes that could manipulate a way to your heart.

“I’m Gwen, and this one here Is Pavitr!” Both greet themselves which such joy to see you. You almost felt as if you were back home, introducing yourself to who seemed to be Hobie’s colleagues. You expected him to be upset with you for following him, or keeping your identity as spiderwoman a secret, or vice versa. Yet, he’s seeing you in a new light, a personality that didn’t exist in your world. You would only ever smile like this if it was truly something or someone you cared about. You both would know that.

“Alright kids, follow me!”

The voice felt all too familiar, the oozing confidence in her demands making you cringe instantly, and you turn to see no other than Jessica Drew herself. You stared blankly, a sigh of irritation, your bubbly personality disappearing almost instantly.

“Jessica..”

She started at you, her face turning into a small scowl before turning back around, motioning the group of teens to follow her, but not before throwing a day pass in your direction. It was hard for them to pay attention when they were too focused on your sudden change of demeanor. Hobie walked beside you, brushing against your hand to catch your attention.

“What’s the tea with you two, ey?”

Your side eye is critical when you look towards him, signaling that you didn’t want to talk about it. He grunts before shrugging it off, still walking close to you. You watched Miles as he introduced himself to everyone, completely enamored with his surroundings. All that you could conclude from this, is that he was new. But while he was looking at everyone else, they were all looking at you. You heard the mutters and whispers amongst them as the HQ went into a deafening silence. You could feel Hobie’s gaze on you, sliding his arm around your waist for comfort.

“Piss off. Go back to what you were doin’.”

Quickly, they did what they were told, but you could still hear the voices of some conversing about you. And Hobie could hear it too.

“I didn’t think they’d let her come back.”

“Maybe they caught her sneaking in, they did say she never gave her watch back.”

He looks to your side, still silent as he watches your body tense up from their words. Maybe he wasn’t the only one acting dodgy.

You look ahead, looking at the lair that belongs to the man you used to call your boss. You felt Hobie release his grip from you to catch up with Miles, watching closely as he walked around him, fidgeting with materials and grabbing small objects. The young teen seemed stressed about something, making you just as anxious. You heard him expressing his frustrations about not having a watch, Hobie suggesting to Miles that he make his own.

You had forgotten how big this room was, and you wished it was longer by the time you got to the main event. He descended from his pad, multiple screens could be seen, one of which you could see showed your last conversation with Hobie at your apartment. Miles and Gwen walked up to him, Miles eager to introduce himself, holding a small box of food. Hobie held you back, watching you stare at the sight before you in amazement.

The moment quickly dissipated once you saw the Miguel everyone knew, his violence showing its face rather quickly, throwing an item in Miles direction. With quick reaction, your web caught onto the object, throwing it to a forgotten corner, showing yourself to him. He chuckled, his expression gleamed with frustrations and anger.

“I knew you would be here.”

“Your favorite disappointment could never miss out on a good time.”

Glaring at one another, everyone could feel the tension, so thick it was possible to cut it with a knife. Hobie watched from afar, reading for whatever should come next. That is until you felt the joyous cries of a child, turning to see a grown man in a pink robe. Instantly, you felt a wave of tears washing over you, Peter calling your name as soon as you ran into his arms.

“I missed you kid.”

Miles shared the excitement, walking up to Peter, also capturing him in an embrace. Miles looked at you in awe once more, wondering how you knew him.

“He was my mentor.”

“That’s crazy, me too!”

You heard Miguel groan, echoing throughout the room, Peter ignoring him, and telling you and Miles to do the same. You once again here the coos of a child, looking in the direction, a baby crawling across the wall. You excitedly exclaim with Miles, “You had a baby!”

Peter laughs sheepishly, yelling for his daughter, telling her to make sure she kept her day pass on, clearly in her own world.

Once again, the atmosphere changed dramatically, Miguel stepping down from his pad, Miles following, both engaging in a rather lengthy conversation about canon events. That’s when you started to shake, Gwen and Hobie looking at you with worry. Still, you held your ground, listening to Miguel explain the Spiderverse to Miles, the timelines, and the unfortunate events that occurs to just about every Spider-person. You saw the young teen grow anxious, beginning to mention his dad, and how he becomes captain in just a few days. Miles grows impatient and restless, and arguing that he shouldn’t sit here and let his father die. Miles looked to his colleagues, searching for confirmation. They all looked away, proving the timeline to be correct. Miguel turns toward you, motioning Miles to look in your direction.

“Your friend here believed the same thing.”

You felt everyone’s eyes on you, feeling as small as Miguel once made you feel. You looked at Miles, ready to hang onto every word you as you began to open your mouth to speak, but you looked away.

“Go on, tell him, [Name].”

You sucked up your sniffles, having to relive that memory constantly felt dehumanizing.

“I….I had a friend, who believed the same thing you did. She wanted to be able to save her parents, to be able to do both, and live the perfect life.”

You felt your chest tighten, yet urged yourself to continue.

“I ended up getting her killed, and destroyed her Universe.”

You heard Miles let out a gasp, you looked to Hobie, his eyes wide, and you couldn’t decipher his emotion. Miles turned back to Miguel, demanding that he be returned home. He refused, locking him in. They had all began to walk away, apologizing that it had to end like this. Well, not on your watch, but it seems that Hobie beat you to it.

A flash of light, knocking everything and everyone on their ass, you chuckled at the gesture. Miles was still in shock, quickly recovering, running off into the headquarters. Miguel runs after the kid, everyone following behind. You felt a arm wrap around your waist, a portal opening. Before pulling you both through, Hobie declaring his standing with the league.

“And for the record, I quit.”

—

You were back in the comfort of your own home, dressed in your lounge clothes, while your suit in the washer. Hobie had flew you home, as there was no reason to hide it anymore. Now, it was an uncomfortable silence, the two of you haven’t spoke since you left the headquarters. Hobie was getting ready to head out, his back turned to you, but not until you made yourself clear.

“We can’t come back from this.”

You looked up, his eyes staring back at you as he turned to you. The moon illuminated his smile, responding casually.

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

And then he was gone, and you didn’t know when he would be back.

Or if he ever would be.

Installation (2/5) : ‘Piss Off’ — Released!

‘Just For You’ Masterlist for previous/future installations

-

ᴛᴀɢꜱ!

@darkphantommagazine

@von-studios

@vickyzangels​

@roseluxxx​

@cupcakekiss

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Pack Play

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Commissioned by an anonymous user. Dabi has been a wolf all his life and he has never had a good time with his rut, always ending up somewhere unsafe, underfunded, and unpleasant for each cycle. So when they take over the PLF and they get the funds to make a good, proper rut room, Dabi is absolutely going to take the opportunity to get himself everything he could possibly want for it. If Duster is gonna get to enjoy it too when his rut hits, then that's fine, it just means that hopefully, he won't complain about the excess that Dabi's put into the place. He really was not expecting their cycles to sync though.

Contents: Werewolves, pack dynamics, mating cycles, sex toys, knotting, multiple orgasms, scenting, supernatural AU

Word Count: 6564

Finally getting to have a real home for the first time in months is a blessing and a curse. It's good to have the PLF and know where they're sleeping, where their next meal is coming from, and that they have a minute to breathe without having to be terrified that the police or heroes are going to be on their ass constantly. It's bad because without the constant stress that's been on them keeping their instincts at bay, all of them are struggling to make sure they have what they need as their bodies go out of survival mode. Compress, a fang, has access to as much blood as he wants given their numbers now, and so does Toga, though her needs are related to her quirk rather than biology. Twice is still grappling with his curse of a quirk and how violent being around doubles of himself can make him as a doppelgänger. And he and Shigaraki, both werewolves, though Dabi thinks Duster was turned instead of born, suddenly have their own territory, packmates, space to transform and run, and plenty of food. And unlike the others who are just settling in and getting comfortable once the hard work is done, Dabi is preparing himself for a week-long frustration that he can feel rapidly approaching. 

It's been three months since his last rut, which is the longest he's gone since joining the League, because at least back in Kamino they had regular meals and the safety of a rut room. But when they ended up back on the streets, his body had plunged right back into survival mode and had left him exhausted and unable to even think about sex, so he hadn't had a rut. But he knows as soon as he sleeps in a real bed for the first time in months that the next one he has is going to absolutely ruin him. 

He gets Shigaraki to approve his plans to renovate one of the guest houses into a proper rut room. The guest houses around the villa are small single room studios with a kitchenette, bathroom, and not much else, but that's more than good enough for his purposes since no other wolves lived at this site before. And perhaps knowing he'll eventually be spending time in it as well, Shigaraki gives him a hell of a budget for the place. So Dabi looks up real rut rooms. Good ones, not just chains attached to radiators and dirty mattresses on floors, usually in a room so small that he can barely move as he goes desperate for a mate. 

He spends a week getting the place renovated. The building gets shutters installed over the windows that can't be broken, the door is reinforced, only opening for someone with claws like theirs so that no humans or other creatures accidentally stumble inside and put themselves in danger while they're feral, and a similar keypad inside that can only be opened when their claws are retracted so that they can't get out during their rut once they're inside. He gets furniture that is bolted to the ground and floors, an array of ready to go meals and non-perishable items, sinks and other appliances that have handles that will be easier to use when he's out of his mind with hormones and unable to retract his claws, and an air conditioning unit that he knows he's going to be grateful for when he's dying of his quirk as his body tries to get him to his completion as many times as it can possibly go. 

He also picks out cleaning systems for the entire room. Most werewolves don't have a full rut room in their homes that is rated appropriately for public safety, and getting a room in a private residence licensed is hard, so most wolves are used to having to share them in mating houses. Usually there are fully different wings, if not entirely separate buildings for wolves who go into rut and heat respectively, but there's always the knowledge that whatever toys or amenities are in the room, have been used a hundred times before. In good mating houses, they're cleaned so meticulously that the chemical burn of the detergent is the only thing that can be smelled, and in less savory ones, well, those are the ones he's spent most of his life in. But he does not want to deal with that when it comes to him and Duster so he puts in the effort and research to figure out exactly what he needs to make sure that the entire room can be cleaned as efficiently as possible, even making sure to have a drain installed into the floor so that the entire room can be hosed down to eliminate pheromones.   

And then he gets to pick out the fun stuff. He's never had a rut bed before and he's nearly vibrating as he gets to pick it out. It's a big square bed that is low to the floor, maybe only an inch or two from it, and it's made with a waterproof material and soft, thick covers that can be removed to be washed. He also buys every pillow, blanket, and other accessory that goes with it so that he will have it as cozy as possible. He gets pheromone air fresheners that will pump in the smell of heat, and lube treated with them to make the rut feel better even without having a real partner with him. And he gets toys. Not just sex toys, though he does, of course get those. He gets chew toys for werewolves, something that some wolves consider with a fair amount of derision, believing only pups need something to put in their mouths when they're in rut, but Dabi doesn't care. He likes to have his mouth full and he's very excited for the bit that is supposed to feel as soft as skin that can release different flavors as it's gnawed on. The reviews for the one that say it tastes like slick and the ones that advocate for the taste of blood all seem very positive, so he gets one of each. The breeding bench with a slot where different fleshlights and strokers can be swapped out on a whim is pricey, but Dabi doesn't give a shit. Detnerat is bankrolling this whole thing and he wants his next rut to be enjoyable for the first time in his fucking life. He gets a few of the different toys and a few dildos as well. He'll let Shigaraki think that's just in case any wolves who go into heat end up staying at this base too, but in all honesty, he's just always wanted to have both during his rut, and he gets toys with knots so thick he's almost jealous, and suction cups on the bases so that he'll be able to pin himself between the wall and breeding bench when the mood strikes him. 

Dabi finishes designing the rut room, makes sure that everything inside is ready, and goes back to his work. He can't make his hormones surge through him, so this will just have to wait until they do. 

///

They've been at base for five and a half weeks before Dabi starts to feel the first stirring threads of his need. It starts off in the middle of their morning meeting, Shigaraki still away for his last check-up now that his leg should be completely healed, and the rest of them are healed themselves and settling into their work more comfortably. Dabi feels his temperature starting to creep up a bit and he tries to lower his quirk, confused because he's not feeling particularly emotional looking at budget spreadsheets or quarterly reports on the book sales. When he can't make his temperature lower, he knows already that he's creeping towards his pre-rut. And he doesn't have to be terrified this time. Scared that he'll end up getting caught by police while he's out of his head, worried he might wake up with blood on his teeth that he didn't mean to take, either from a victim or a mate he wasn't looking for. He has a safe place to go, and towards the end of the meeting he says he'll be out of the building for the rest of the week, if not most of next given how long it's been since his cycle hit, and no one questions that. 

He goes back to his room and packs a bag full of soft loose clothes, if he bothers to dress at all, and then he heads out to the rut room. Going inside he finishes setting up some things, making sure the bed has all of the blankets arranged the way he wants them, making sure all of the toys are out of their cases and cleaned, that the lube doesn't have its seal on it anymore, little things that will make him feel better when his cycle hits him completely. And then he strips out of his clothes, only putting on a pair of loose pajama bottoms, and lets himself half transform. He's been careful to not do this in front of anyone else so that they wouldn't see his white ears and tail, but he'll like being comfortable when he wakes. 

Dabi climbs into the bed, circling around a few times, and then gives a content sigh before he curls up again. This is going to be the easiest, most comfortable rut that he's ever had. 

///

He wakes with a soft chuff, immediately noticing his cock is straining his pajama bottoms and that the room is starting to fill with the sweetness from the air fresheners. Dabi moans softly, grinding himself into the pillows when he hears a sharp inhale and a distinctive click as the door shuts. 

A growl tears out of his chest as he wakes all the way, getting onto his hands and knees, claws out and fangs bared as he tries to find what is disturbing him in his territory. It was the worst thing he could have done because Shigaraki is the only other person that would care about visiting this room and of course it's him standing in the doorway. Of course that defensive sound triggers his instincts too. The other man is across the room in an instant, his tail tearing through his clothes, his ears pinned back against his hair, and his own claws and fangs bared as he gets right into Dabi's face with a snarl. Dabi whimpers. His wolf accepted Shigaraki as his leader a long time ago, and he shouldn't have displayed that kind of open aggression against him without expecting a fight. Dabi is even more humiliated when he whines softly and automatically puts his head low and rolls onto his stomach in submission. 

Submission that puts his aching cock on display, erection unmoved from the embarrassment that heats his veins as his rut claws across his nerves. Shigaraki growls at him softly, leaning in to nip at Dabi's throat to ensure he knows his place and Dabi has to bite his lip and try not to squirm as that makes him even harder. Then Shig chuffs at him, letting him know that the transgression is forgiven. Dabi quickly rolls back onto his stomach and mumbles, 

"What are you doing in here?" His face flushed as his body wars with the want to submit and the desire to fight Shigaraki into submission so that he can mount him as his rut hormones soak his veins.

"...Same as you."

Dabi groans, hiding his face in his arms. "Go away," he whines. It's not uncommon for packs to sync their cycles, but he really, really had hoped that the fact that he mostly wandered away from Shigaraki when they were on the streets would mean that this wouldn't be an issue. And he had really wanted to enjoy his first rut somewhere good and safe by himself. Duster goes and grabs the backpack that he dropped by the door on his way in and starts to strip out of his villain shit, the same way Dabi had when he'd come in.

"I couldn't open the door if I wanted to." And yeah, that was the point. Keep them in here in case they go totally feral. But it doesn't mean that Dabi isn't pouting a little. "Scooch." He instructs as he comes back, now also just in pajama pants, and smelling of spice and thunder, but not overwhelmingly so yet. He's not hard as he climbs into the bed and licks Dabi's hot cheek just above his scars. It's a soothing action, something to tell Dabi that it's alright, that he's still safe here with the alpha of his pack. It's something Shigaraki has only done for him once before, when he was hurt after Kamino. These kinds of things are confusing to people who aren't like them, and he doesn't think that Toga or the others would ever let them live it down if they cuddled and groomed each other the way Dabi sometimes craves from his pack leader. Humans, even other preternaturals, often misconstrue the things wolves do as romantic when their intimacy usually comes without those ties. Dabi shifts over in the bed so that Shigaraki can curl up with him. 

But the encouragement and affection makes his body feel even warmer, and he pulses out his scent involuntarily to show his alpha that his need is so high. Shigaraki lets out a low, rumbling churr and gives him another little lick. 

"Do you want to be mounted, puppy?" 

His cock aches, his instincts screaming that mounting or being mounted would feel so good, but he doesn't know if he really wants that. "'Puppy'? I'm older than you." 

"Maybe, but you're my pack," his only biological pack until they bring more wolves into the PLF. "And I take care of you." That sentiment really does not help with the arousal suffusing his body. 

It makes Dabi swallow back some of his nerves and admit, "... I don't know..." 

"That's alright, Dabi. I'm not going anywhere. Go make yourself feel good, puppy." 

Dabi nearly whimpers. He knows this isn't uncommon for made packs, but it still feels embarrassing to want to touch himself in front of the other wolf. But he was given an order, and his need is so insistent that he pulls himself from the bed and over to the toys nearby, shakily removing his pajama bottoms. When he chances a glance over his shoulder, he finds that Shigaraki has curled up facing the opposite direction from him and that's really all he can stand. He fumbles to open the candy-like lube and wraps his hand around his cock with a moan.

Dabi manages to make himself knot once, though he shouldn't have done it in the open air, because that made it sting like crazy, and clean up a little before he climbs back into the bed. Shigaraki pulls him close when he does, and Dabi would have laughed at him if he were awake, but he's still out, his body pushing him to sleep while he can until his rut hits completely. He's too restless to sleep, but it is nice to be close like this. He's a little shameless as he tucks his nose into Shigaraki's neck so he can soak up his thunderstorm smell as he sleeps. 

///

By the time his next wave of need hits, Dabi does not give a single shit about being exposed. He slips Shigaraki's embrace and fumbles to find the fleshlight he'd picked out that was specifically made for wolves. It doesn't look that different from the ones that are made for humans and other species, but the inside was modeled off of a werewolf's body, and the false vagina has ridges inside that mimic the muscles wolves have to keep a knot locked in tight. He gets the toy into place on the breeding bench and snags the lube off of the floor, squirting a generous amount inside and along the outer lips of the toy until it's dripping wet like a real cunt would be for a wolf in heat. Fuck just seeing the toy looking so much like flesh makes Dabi's whole body tense with his need and he gets onto the bench without hesitation. 

His cock is already aching and dripping when he rubs it against the toy, feeling the soft silicone against him, cool against his burning heat and that has him growling. It's not a mate's body though, and that means he doesn't need to worry about anything else but chasing his own pleasure, so he only rubs himself against it enough times to make sure there's lube smeared along his sensitive piercings before he's sinking in deep with a groan. The toy clutches his length, nearly sucking him inside, and massaging every inch of him with soft ridges that feel so good he doesn't care that they're not real. He fucks his hips as deep as he can go on the first thrust and his claws scrape against the bench as his whole body trembles. His knot hasn't even formed yet, but he can feel those special ridges touching where it will and the tease of them has him panting harshly. 

And then he hears Shigaraki growl softly. Dabi whimpers, not turning to look at him, his tail drooping between his legs as he worries the other will want this now that he's woken, now that the smell of his arousal is pulsing hot through the air and making it abundantly clear that he's in his rut proper too. He won't fight the other for any of this, but it doesn't mean that Dabi won't miss it if he has to give it up. He's pretty sure if the other makes him stop fucking the toy so that he can have his turn, Dabi will be back inside of it the moment that Shig's knot unlocks, squelching through his cum just to find his own pleasure. 

But Shigaraki doesn't make him stop. He chuffs at him and moves closer, getting the discarded lube and then moving away again. Dabi chances looking back at him, trembling from how badly he wants to move, but his instincts force him still until he has his alpha's approval. And Shigaraki is leaning back against the pillows, red eyes half-lidded and watching him, his hand slick and wrapped around his cock. His massive cock, Jesus fucking Christ, Dabi whimpers as he sees him, as he immediately wonders how big his knot must be when he's already so thick and long. Duster makes him even more needy when the other is shameless, stroking himself with long, sure movements, as his eyes drag over every exposed inch of Dabi's body. 

"Did you change your mind, puppy?" 

He's damn fucking close to it now that he's seen the other's cock. But he doesn't have words for it, just soft animal whines as his head goes foggy from the heady smell of the two of them and the false heat hanging around in the air. Duster shifts, letting go of himself and coming back over so that he's so close to Dabi's body. 

"Let me help you feel good, Dabi." he murmurs, dipping his head to his neck and scenting his nearly broken glands. 

He's never had someone with him during a rut, and he's already drowning in the sensation of having toys, having somewhere safe, having his pack with him. "Duster," he moans and can't help it. His hips move forward again, fucking into the toy that puts sparks under his skin as his tail stands up and tilts to the side to make his ass open and exposed for his alpha to use in the same manner. 

"Need you to use your words, puppy, or I can't touch you." 

"Want it, Duster." He whines.

"Good boy," And Shig's mouth moves to his neck, his teeth nipping at his skin and making Dabi's whole body shiver as he is torn between fucking into the toy hard and trying to grind back to get Shigaraki's cock inside of him as fast as possible. Shigaraki has his gloves on, and he wraps his hands around Dabi's hips as he licks and sucks along his neck, forcing him still as his slick cock rubs against his hole. Dabi can't help the needy little moans that come out of him as he's forced to stay with that delicious pressure around his own cock as the other starts to tease at the ring of muscles with his head, trying to get Dabi's body to loosen for him without hurting so that he can have the more he's craving without them having to open him up when it will be nearly impossible for either of them to retract their claws. 

He rocks his hips against Dabi, rubbing and grinding, and putting that good sensation there even though he must be as desperate as he is to have more. And he lets Dabi move his hips at that same rhythm. It’s much slower than he would prefer, but he doesn’t care when it means he gets to rut into the toy beneath him. The fleshlight swallows up his cock on each thrust, gushing around him and squeezing deliciously, making animal sounds of pleasure spill from his lips as he fucks it at the pace his alpha sets. 

“You’re doing such a good job, puppy. Does that feel good?” 

He whines, nodding weakly. He feels like a puppy. Like this is the first time he’s ever had his rut from how small and fragile everything feels when he knows his pack leader can take it away whenever he wants. No matter how good it feels, until he’s locked inside, Shigaraki could just make him stop. He could make him sit on the floor instead of in the bed and watch him as he knots the toys and enjoys his rut instead, making Dabi endure his arousal without ever getting off the way some packs choose to when they aren’t looking to have a whole litter of pups to take care of. 

But Shigaraki doesn’t make him stop. He kisses and licks his neck as his hands guide his hips so that he’s fucking the toy a little harder, a little deeper, until his head is touching that final barrier at the tip and that extra sensation there has him whimpering and yipping, begging Duster without words to let him keep doing it, trying to show the other how good it feels, how much he wants to cum. The other keeps teasing against his rim, but lets him continue, his tongue laving over Dabi’s scent glands like he’d mate him right now, without even asking. That should turn him off sharply, but instead Dabi moans loudly, fucking the toy a little rougher, a lot rougher when Duster doesn’t stop him, letting him find the fast pace that he wanted before the other woke and saw him trying to satisfy himself. 

Moans and whines leave his lips, as he starts to feel his knot swelling, his legs shaking and his toes scraping against the floor as he chases his completion. 

“That’s it, show me your pretty knot, baby boy.” Shigaraki’s voice is slurred around his growls and that’s what sends him over the edge, nearly biting through his lip as his fangs sink into it as he fucks as hard as he can into the toy as he swells rapidly. Duster pushes the tip of his cock into his hole at the same time as Dabi’s orgasm surges through his skin and he howls his pleasure as the toy squeezes his cock, those perfect ridges locking his knot inside as he pumps it full of so much cum that the special pressure release at the back has to open so that it can spill out the mixture of cum and lube that can’t fit inside. He keeps letting out gasps and pants as his entire body shudders as his pleasure racks him, pulsing through his full knot and at his hole as those muscles are made to accommodate his alpha’s cock. He feels even bigger than he looked and Dabi had been looking forward to pinning himself between his knot and a fake one, but this is better. 

So much better when Duster smells the blood on his teeth, even though the wound heals rapidly, and he chuffs against his neck. “Is my puppy teething?” He’d have snarled at him any other time, but right now, Dabi’s body is too wracked with pleasure to do anything but whine. “That’s alright, baby boy. Open wide and I’ll give you what you need.” 

Dabi does as he’s told in a haze and his tail wags a bit as the other brings one of the chew toys to his mouth. He can smell blood beneath the false silicone skin and he is so eager to have that behind his teeth– and Shigaraki feeds it to him as he feeds inch after inch of his cock into Dabi’s pliant body. His legs twitch uselessly, claws digging into the floor as he’s suspended on the breeding bench, his ass held high for his alpha and his knot trapped in the toy, as his mouth and hole are both filled. His teeth sinking into the silicone is the only thing that keeps him from blowing out his throat on a fresh moan, and even then, he can’t stop the tears that prick at his eyes and roll down his cheeks as he’s filled so much fuller than he ever has been before. 

Shig only gives him a few seconds to adjust before he rolls his hips into his body. It’s so much, but his pack leader has already been so patient even though he must be feeling the same insatiable need Dabi has been. And Dabi’s entire body goes limp with his submission. He wants his alpha to feel good. He wants to be used by him through his rut. He wants to show the other that he can be a good packmate after spending so much time running away from him and the bond their instincts kept asking them for. 

Shigaraki stiffens over him, his breath catching in the back of his throat as Dabi gives himself up completely. It’s a reprieve of seconds before the other is growling loudly and fucking into his body hard. Dabi’s teeth sink into the bit in his mouth and muffles his moans as every inch of his insides is made to feel as good as his cock, still being held tight by the wet warmth of the toy. Shigaraki’s cock is so big inside of him as he fucks into his body, setting his thrusts to the same hard, unrelenting pace as Dabi had used when he’d been allowed. It is all instinct and need and he trembles when he hears his alpha starting to make those same desperate, animal noises as Dabi had been. Duster is always so composed nowadays that Dabi can hardly tell what he’s thinking, hearing him falling apart, hearing him enjoying himself and knowing it’s because of him, makes his whole body thrum with fresh pleasure. 

He can smell, through the glands on his thighs that are still strong, how warm the air goes with his contentment, and that has Duster’s claws biting into his skin as he holds his hip with one hand. The other reaches for his chin and he forces Dabi to turn his head back as much as he’s able. He moans through his toy as Shigaraki leans over his body, hips moving even harder and faster, and the angle ensures that he is rubbing against Dabi’s prostate on each thrust. He looks at the other blearily and whines, trying to fuck his hips into the toy again as Shigaraki bites down on the other end of the bit, his fangs sinking in deep and filling their space with their tangles scents, false heat, and false blood. It’s a lie and Shigaraki’s teeth aren’t anywhere near his skin, but Dabi swears he can feel them inside. He swears, for a moment, that it feels like the other mated him. 

He thinks it must feel like that for him too, because he lets out a feral growl as he fucks him hard enough to put bruises under his skin a few more times before his knot is swelling. It’s massive as it pushes against his rim, but Duster doesn’t slow down, doesn’t let Dabi adjust, he forces his body to accept it and the complete domination has Dabi’s knot starting to shrink. It’s not because it feels bad, no, he’s unlocking so quickly because it feels too good to be claimed so completely as Shigaraki slams into him twice more before his knot is filled and his cum is pouring into Dabi’s body, leaving him completely soaked as the other growls around the toy in their mouths so fiercely that Dabi can feel the vibration of it between his teeth. His knot is shrinking because his body is so aroused it wants him to be able to do this again as quickly as possible and he’s not about to try and fight that. 

It takes a long minute for Shig to fill him, and he thinks that he’ll be forced to hold still for a while even as his cock, still hard and sticky, is able to slip out of the fleshlight as his knot shrinks. The mess he made inside of the silicone pussy drips out in rivers along the fake lips and if he wasn’t already full and aching, Dabi thinks the sight of that alone would have made him ready to go again. 

He thinks he’ll just fuck back into it again after it drains a little more so that it can take him a second time. He’s not expecting Duster to wrap an arm around his waist, let go of the toy in their mouths, and pull Dabi off of the bench. He lets out a muffled yip in surprise and then keens as the other pulls out. He doesn’t have the muscles in his hole that are inside of a wolf’s vagina to keep their mate locked inside by their knot, and he whimpers as that massive intrusion is taken out of him, when it feels so good to be full and wet, keeping his alpha’s cock warm. Then the world shifts sharply and Dabi’s back is hitting the soft nest that they shared before, kicking up more of their tangled scents. 

Shig’s hands wrap around the backs of his thighs and he pushes his legs up to his chest before he is re-entering his body, his swollen knot pushing back inside in one smooth movement that has Dabi arching with a moan as he nearly bites through the toy. Oh, oh! He didn’t know other wolves did this, but Duster starts to fuck him again with his knot still full. And if feels so good, as that swollen section reaches the perfect depth to always have pressure against Dabi’s prostate as he fucks him hard again. 

There are stars exploding behind his eyes as he scrapes his claws down the other’s back, holding onto him as he nearly chokes on his toy, spit trickling out from between his lips, but he’s scared that if he lets go he’ll say something embarrassing, that if he lets himself open his mouth, it will be to beg for his alpha to mate him and they’re barely a day into their cycle. Shigaraki fucks him with his knot, leaning down to lick away his spit and the tears trickling across his cheeks, words lost to the growls, barks, snarls, and groans that his wolf knows are all good, good, good. Sounds that tell him he’s being so good for his pack. He’s being good, giving him what he needs, and that makes Dabi’s body even hotter. 

Duster’s hair is falling around them as he leans over him, eyes drinking him in like the sight of Dabi alone is enough to make him feel so good, and seeing that affection, that want on his face has Dabi whimpering, trying to buck his hips up to show his alpha how much he likes it. How good he’s feeling as he’s used. Too good. His cock hasn’t been touched, but he’s drooling fresh pre all over his stomach. And, he whimpers as it stings, his knot is starting to form again in the open air. 

But he doesn’t try to touch himself. He doesn’t reach for any of the other toys he got to make him feel like he was mounting a mate to sate his needs. No, this kind of release can be something different, something special, because it’s another form of submission to not try and find the heights of his pleasure and let his body be used by his alpha instead. He yips and whines through the bit and Tomura chuffs soothingly, licking his cheek again in a far contrast to how hard he’s fucking into his body. He watches as Dabi creeps closer and closer, the sharpness of knotting in the open air stinging and aching, but never letting him come away from the edge of his pleasure when he feels so full of the other’s cock and so wanted as he watches his body give itself to everything he’s doing to him. 

Dabi moans loudly, a sob on its heels, as his knot fills and he pumps his spend all up his chest and across his stomach in thick spurts as he cums again. He is beyond bliss as he lays completely limp beneath the other, his eyes heavy and his head swimming through the pleasure that just keeps coming as Duster fucks him through his orgasm, one hand only coming to stroke and rub at his swollen knot after cum stops dribbling out of him. It prolongs that bliss, but Dabi doesn’t think he could ever possibly float so high he wouldn’t notice Shig’s knot inside of him. 

Which makes it particularly notable that Duster’s knot doesn’t shrink as he keeps fucking him. He stays swollen. Oh fuck. Dabi moans weakly, his jaw aching from biting the toy so hard, and it finally falls from his mouth. The second it does, Shigaraki is leaning in and kissing him, licking out that false flavor of blood from behind his teeth as his thrusts grow harder again. Being able to keep his knot like that means he’s an alpha alpha. Not just one because he leads their little pack, but because he is a holdover from history back when wolves had secondary sexes. His rut will be longer, harder than Dabi’s. He’ll cum so much more, and be so territorial that if anyone comes near the rut room he’ll tear them apart without blinking. 

Dabi doesn’t mean to pulse out the scent of warmth that he does. A scent that tells Duster how safe and good he feels knowing that he’s even more dangerous, even better suited to be his leader, than he thought he was before this started. But he can’t hide from those feelings as he’s fucked so deeply through his rut. 

It’s Shigaraki who howls this time, having to bite the pillow just beneath Dabi’s neck to keep from mating him, and making Dabi’s whole body go tight with delight as he makes Shig lose his control so completely as he pumps him full of his cum again. 

And he loses track of time completely after that. 

///

According to his phone, when he manages to find it after they wake up without either of them aching for it again, it’s been two weeks, by the time their cycle ends. The rut room is in a state, the blankets and pillows shredded and stained, some of their toys broken from how much they used them, and his body humming with satisfaction as Duster licks at his skin to clean him up after such an intense and prolonged cycle. 

But tongues alone can’t clean them up completely, and they do end up having to shower before they re-enter the main room and take in the full carnage. 

“I’ll–” he starts to propose how to clean up after themselves, but Duster cuts him off. 

“We can deal with it tomorrow, come on, I want to go eat something and see the rest of our pack.” 

Dabi nearly goes boneless. His instincts were screaming for food and comfort too after something so intense and he can’t help it when his tail wags as his leader gives him permission for that. 

They leave most of their shit in the room, just pulling on pajamas before they unlock the door and head back across to the main villa. It’s after sundown and a fresh weekend, which fills them with delight when they don’t have to go find the others, they’re already in their common room, Compress in the middle of making dinner for everyone. 

“Welcome back,” they’re greeted with some enthusiasm, though the others try to go back to what they’re doing like he and Duster can’t smell how curious they are about what they are guessing must have happened between them while they were both gone for their rut. But food is already being made and their pack is around, so Dabi just chuffs at Shig and he pulls him over to the unoccupied armchair, sitting down and pulling him into his lap. Dabi’s tail immediately starts to wag as he cuddles into his chest, licking at Shig’s neck as the other starts to groom his ears in return. 

Dabi doesn’t think his wolf has ever felt so happy and comfortable after his rut. 

Not a surprise though when he has to be human again as Toga can’t contain herself any longer, “Are you two dating now?!” 

He opens his mouth to snap at her, but Shig beats him to the punch. “No, we’re not. These are things that wolves do to reinforce pack bonds. If any of you were wolves too, we would be doing the same thing with you.” Well, not entirely. Toga would still be a pup if they turned her, but yeah, the sentiment stands. 

“Oh…” she says, not quite able to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “So it’s totally platonic cuddling, and licking, and fucking?” 

Duster doesn’t hide his amusement. “Yes.” 

“Mind your own business, human,” Dabi mocks lightly before nuzzling back in to shamelessly scent Tomura’s neck. “Hey Duster?” 

“What is it, puppy?” 

He licks his scent gland again, nipping at it lightly too, just to hear the other growl. “Date me?” 

He feels it when Tomura’s tail starts to wag too. “I’d be happy to, Dabi.” And he presses a kiss between his ears, his scent overwhelming him with how sweet and content it goes. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” 

“You two are insufferable.” Compress informs them. “Do you want your steaks bloody?” 

“Yes please.” Tomura answers for both of them and Dabi stays tucked into his embrace for the rest of the night. He has a sneaking suspicion he’s never going to want to let go. 

[loslentesdepedrito]

I'm Your Wife- Chapter Seven

Javi gif by: @skyshipper Jack gif by: @javier-pena My Masterlist

Pairing: Jack Daniels ‘Agent Whiskey’x Spanish-speaking f!reader and Javier Peña x Spanish-speaking f!reader (Spanish translations are provided.)

Previous Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Six

Word count: 9.2k+

Chapter summary: It's time for Ángel's surgery and the transplant preparation. Following the procedure, Jack visits his son, providing some closure regarding your marriage.

A/N: This chapter concludes the final installment of the series and stands as my penultimate post on this blog. Next week, hopefully, I'll be sharing one more post—a Din piece—officially wrapping up this blog. I intend to maintain my writing for another two weeks before ultimately closing my account. Thank you to everyone who has supported me!

Rating: 18+ No explicit content, but this is an 18+ page. Warning contains spoilers, but please read if you'd like!!! They are below the cut, but if you don't want to read them, the story starts after the Whiskey bottles. Also, Jack's texts are in bold.

CW: angst is back again, but a happy ending is guaranteed, some science, mentions of surgery, chemotherapy, and stem cell transplant, Jack cannot use an iPhone, Javi and Jack tension, jealousy, pregnancy, divorce, and childhood disease.

Your conversation with Jack three hours ago left you drained and exhausted, and now you're perched on the chair in the corner of your son's hospital room. You're engrossed in watching Ángel and Javi talk about an upcoming soccer game and the probability of their favorite team winning the match when your phone vibrates underneath your thigh. With a subtle shift, you reach for it and once it’s in your hand, you flip it over. Your phone is illuminated with a family picture of you with your husband and son in the background and there’s a message on your Notification Center. 

Jack Daniels: HI. TEXTING YOU FROM MY NEW PHONE.

Another vibration follows, prompting a second message.

Jack Daniels: WHY DID THE TEXT SEND IN UPPERCASE?

The sequence of messages from Jack continues, each notification accompanied by a vibration.

Jack Daniels: HOW DO I TURN THIS OFF?

Jack Daniels: HELP me. Wait, I figured it out. Sorry.

You haven’t clicked on the messages to take you to the chat. Instead, you hold and press, sending him a brief response:

Hi, Jack.

He doesn’t send anything back, and you turn off your phone. As soon as the screen is black, it lights up again.

Jack Daniels: I went to the store and picked up a new phone.

A second later, an image comes through.

You hover over the message once more, and it’s a front selfie Jack took. Well, it’s not quite a full-face selfie. It only captures just beneath his eyes, and his eyes and face are not looking directly at the camera, so you guess he was looking down trying to take a picture of something else.

You’re proven correct when a second picture comes through. This time it’s a box of an iPhone.

There’s a bubble on your text chain, and this time you fully click, opening the message thread with Jack.

Sorry, I don’t know how this phone works. I just didn’t want my phone to fail, and you didn’t have a way to contact me, so I got a new one. Did I miss anything?

You reply back with:

Ángel is already ready to go, we’re just waiting for a room to open up in the OR. Could take hours, though.

How did he take the news?

Very well, actually. Saying he’s excited to go home is an understatement. He sensed that we were worried about his surgery and he kind of gave us a lecture on how important it is to listen to doctors and gave us a small list of the benefits of chemo ports. When we asked him how he knew about the port, he said, and I quote, "some light reading."

Jack doesn’t take long to reply:

Smart boy. He definitely got that from you.

A smile graces your lips at his message, but you decide to shift the conversation:

We never talked about it, but do you want us to tell Ángel that you’re his donor?

Your nerves are on edge, and waiting for Jack’s response heightens your anxiety. Glancing up from your phone, you see Ángel still in deep conversation with Javi. Your phone vibrates again, and you look down at Jack’s response:

No. I don’t want him to want a relationship with me because of the donation. If he wants a relationship with me, I want it to be because he truly wants it, not because he feels any obligation.

You exhale, relieved, and reply:

Okay, we won’t tell him.

Thank you.

A text bubble appears:

How do I send the accent on his name?

Suppressing a laugh, your fingers glide over the keyboard:

Press the letter A for a good two seconds, and a whole lot of options should appear. Click on the third one.

It doesn’t take Jack very long to send a single:

Á

He follows with:

Be honest, does it sound a bit funny when I pronounce his name?

You weigh your options, lie or be honest. You decide to go with the latter:

A little bit.

I remember when you used to make fun of my accent…

Liar. I didn’t make fun of you.

I miss that...

Oh, God, not again.

You’re about to reprimand him when, by some divine intervention, a fist knocks on the door, followed by a man in a polo and khakis. Quickly, you turn your phone off, redirecting your full attention to the man.

You’re about to reprimand him when, by some divine intervention, a fist knocks on the door, followed by a man in a polo and khakis. Quickly, you turn your phone off, redirecting your full attention to the man.

“Hi, I’m Will. I’m with patient transport services, and I’m here to take Ángel down to the OR,” he says.

“Come in,” you invite.

Javi stands up and retrieves your thick to-go bag from underneath the sofa. It's filled with water bottles, a variety of snacks, sweaters, sweatpants, and a few changes of clothes—because, as Javi says, uno nunca sabe (one never knows).

Will walks over to Ángel and looks at his hospital bracelet. He takes out a phone with a bulky blue case and scans the ID barcode. Will asks to no one in particular, “Can you please confirm his full name and date of birth.”

Javi does that for you.

Will nods and types something onto the phone. After a moment, he looks at Ángel, “Hey, little man, how are you doing?”

Ángel smiles, “I’m good, sir. I'm just waiting to get my chemo port. After that, I can get chemo and then a transplant so I can go home.”

Will chuckles, “That's a great plan, buddy. We’ll get you down to the OR, and they’ll take good care of you so you can go home soon. Ready to go to the sixth floor?”

Ángel nods enthusiastically, his eyes filled with trust.

“Great,” Will says, glancing at you and Javi. “If you guys are ready, we can head downstairs.”

Javi, lifting the heavy bag over his shoulder, nods in agreement. He glances at Ángel, a mix of tenderness and concern in his eyes, and then turns to Will.

“He’ll be under anesthesia, right?” Javi asks, his voice a bit gruffer than usual.

Will offers a reassuring smile, “Yes, sir. That's what his chart says.”

Javi nods, visibly swallowing some of his worry. “Okay, let’s get him down there.” He moves to help his son get up from the bed. Will positions the wheelchair closer to Ángel's bed, and together, they carefully lower Ángel onto the wheelchair. You reach for one of the blankets—a gift from your father-in-law—and drape it over Ángel. Will takes the IV wire and secures it on the designated hook at the back of the wheelchair.

"Are we all set?" Will asks.

"Yes," you affirm, and then Will wheels Ángel toward the door. Javi, anticipating the need, beats them to the exit, opens the door, and holds it wide open to let them pass. Stepping into the corridor, Javi instinctively reaches for your hands, intertwining fingers not just for your comfort but for his own solace as well. Together, you trail behind your son as Will expertly steers Ángel's wheelchair through the hallway. 

Descending from the tenth floor via the patient elevators, you and Javi follow Will, who scans his badge to usher you through the double doors into the pre-op room. 

Guiding Ángel to the left side of the room, Will selects a quiet corner and draws back a side of the arctic blue diamond-print curtains, revealing an unoccupied bed. Positioning the wheelchair beside the bed, he assists Ángel in transitioning onto the soft mattress.

"Alright, good luck, buddy. You'll do great in there," Will encourages, raising a fist. Ángel meets it with his own, and as their fists connect, they both playfully mimic the sound of an explosion.

"Thanks, sir," Ángel replies, his voice carrying gratitude. Then, in a quiet and unsure tone, he adds, "I'll see you after?"

Will's smile is reassuring. "Absolutely. I'll be the one taking you back up."

With that, Will takes a step back, giving Ángel some space. He turns to you and your husband, saying, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Peña, Mrs. Peña. Someone should be with you shortly."

"Thanks for everything, Will," you say, watching as Will, with a warm smile, exits and closes the curtain, providing you with some privacy with your son.

With only one chair in the room, Javi insists you take a seat, not wanting you on your feet.

"¿Y tú? (what about you?)" you ask, concern etched in your voice and face. Maybe it's because you went so long without a partner prioritizing you, or because in the time your son has been in the hospital, Javier has really taken care of almost everything. Sometimes you can't help but feel guilty that he always puts your comfort above his own.

"Me paro (I’ll stand)," Javi shrugs his shoulders as if it's the most obvious choice in the world.

"Papi, you can sit here," Ángel offers, patting the mattress.

"Está bien (it's okay), mijo, I can stand for a while," he smiles, loving that his son is always considerate.

"Baja ese bolso (put down that bag), at least," you plead with him.

"I'm good, someone should be here soon," Javi reassures.

"Pero, Javi- (but, Javi-)" You're interrupted when you hear a woman asking if she can come in.

He smirks and whispers, "Ves (see)." Dropping his cocky look, Javi opens the curtain to let the woman in.

"Hello, my name is Dr. Gaddi. I'll be Angel's anesthesiologist. Can I please get a full name and a birthday?"

Your son happily responds to the doctor's requests while she verifies the information on the computer.

"Great, thank you, sweetheart. Mom or Dad, I'll need your signature on the consent forms. If one of you will please follow me," she says.

"I'll go," Javi says, and to your relief, he finally drops the bag from his shoulder.

"It's just straight this way," the anesthesiologist says, motioning past the curtain where the nurse station is in the middle of the big room.

Javier nods and follows the doctor. "Ya vengo mis amores (I’ll be back my loves)," he says with a big smile before closing the curtain.

Once on the other side of the curtain, where you and his son can't see him, he exhales a shaky breath. The fear is there, gnawing at him, although he doesn't want to show it. He wishes he could share it with you, as he normally would, but you're pregnant. The stress is already too much, and he doesn't want it to affect the baby. That thought terrifies him, and he can't risk it. Through the course of your marriage, he's come to understand that sometimes, marriage isn't a perfect fifty-fifty. There are moments when one partner has to carry more, and right now, he knows it's one of those moments. He must bear the fear and shoulder some of yours. While he wants to share these worries with you, a deep-seated commitment to putting family first holds him back. His protective nature takes precedence, always prioritizing his family.

Javier raises his head back up and quickly turns around to follow the doctor, who is waiting for him.

Once he catches up to her, she tells him the forms are for consent of treatment. The doctor reads the online document, informing Javi about the procedure, the benefits, and the risks it entails.

Dr. Gaddi must have seen the look on Javier's face after she listed the risks and the way he nearly crumbled when she said "or death" because she stopped and turned to him.

"But... everything will be okay, right? He’s in good hands?” Javi asks, his voice cracking as if he's on the verge of tears; even speaking those words makes his throat ache, causing a noticeable strain in his voice.

"Sir, I can't make any promises. Every surgery does come with risks, but my team and I have successfully done this procedure multiple times.” 

Javi tries his best to remind himself that everyone in the OR is experienced and has done this procedure before.

"Where do I sign?" he manages to ask, his voice slowly regaining its composure.

While Javi is with Ángel's anesthesiologist, a nurse, and another doctor come in to check on Ángel. He had only managed a short nap, so now, as he rests, you take out your phone and send a text to Jack. 

Hey. We're in the Pre-op area. There's a room in the OR now, and I've met his doctors. As soon as the anesthesiologist comes back, they'll take him.

Jack replies instantly as if he's been sitting by, waiting for his phone to ring:

Thank you for letting me know.

He sends a follow-up: 

His surgery is only supposed to take an hour, right?

That's what the doctors said. I'm sure he won't be in there for too long.

As Javi, Dr. Gaddi, and a nurse approach, you text Jack:

The anesthesiologist will be here soon. I'll send you any updates I get, and I'm going to send you Javi's contact info just in case.

After adding Javi's phone number and hitting send, your husband and the surgical team arrive.

Dr. Gaddi approaches, “Hi, Mom, everything is ready on our end to take the patient to the OR."

“Okay,” you say, rising to your feet. The staff gathers around the bed and begins to move it. Ángel stirs at the movement, calling for you and Javi before opening his eyes.

Javi quickly rushes to your side, closer to your son, and reassures him, "It's okay."

"Oh, am I going to surgery?" Ángel asks.

"Yes, you are, Angel," the nurse responds as he releases the brakes on the left side.

"Oh, okay, yay," Ángel smiles.

The nurse chuckles at his excitement, "You know, not many kids are excited for surgery."

"I'm excited because chemo ports look more comfortable than the IV. It gets in my way when I do, like, anything," Ángel explains with a huff.

"Well, I've heard from other patients that they prefer the port, so hopefully you will too," says Dr. Gaddi as she stands to the side, waiting to wheel Ángel out of the room.

She turns to you and your husband, saying, "You guys can follow us until that red line, and then you'll be taken to the waiting room."

You start feeling more anxious, and Javier senses it. He begins to rub your lower back, his warm hand moving up and down, offering comfort.

"Okay, ready," says the nurse.

With the curtain open, they go through first, and you and Javi are right next to your son’s bed.

You're so hyper-focused on your son that you don't realize you've made it right before the line that you can't cross.

"Love you, Mommy, love you, Daddy," Ángel says, reaching out for your hand.

You take his little hand in yours, and Javi covers both of your hands with his.

"Te amamos más, mi niño (we love you more)," Javi tells him in a soft voice. Everyone can hear the love pouring out of his words.

Ángel knows this and doesn't try to contradict his dad because he knows it would be in vain. Instead, he simply says, "Nos vemos en un ratito (We’ll see each other in a little bit)."

"Okay, mijo," you say, fighting back tears.

The doors open, and Ángel is wheeled in. You think the tears are coming, but when you hear the light sound of your son's laughter, you're able to compose yourself.

"Would you like to be taken to the waiting room now?" a non-surgical nurse asks.

Thirty minutes pass, and you and Javier are seated in the waiting room, the only occupants at the moment. Purple chairs surround you, and you're on a blue seat cushion against the wall, your attention fixed on the TV opposite. It's a modest 35-inch screen designed to keep you informed about the ongoing surgery. Your son's name is displayed in green, and the message changes from ‘Surgery in progress: Incision and Pocket Creation’ to ‘Surgery in progress: Port Implantation.’

"They're placing the port-disk-chamber thingy inside the incision they made on his chest," Javi says matter-of-factly, pointing at the text.

You turn your head toward him, an amused smile playing on your lips. "'Port-disk-chamber thingy'—is that what the doctor said, Jav?"

He bursts out laughing, placing his right hand over his chest, realizing he was mimicking the tone doctors use when imparting information: authoritative. "Casi me cago del miedo (I almost shitted myself from fear) when the doctor told me step by step what they would do, so I don't remember exactly what he said," he chuckles.

Javier's laugh is contagious, and you can't help but laugh too. Your laughter fuels his, and vice versa. The only thing that interrupts your laughter is when you feel the baby kick.

"Ay, me pateó (oh, he kicked me)," you exclaim happily.

Javi instantly stops laughing too and shifts his hand to rest on your bump. As soon as you feel the weight of his hand on your stomach, your son responds with another kick, right where Javi's palm is placed.

A boyish look crosses your husband's face. He always loves feeling the baby kick, reminiscent of the first time he felt his first son kick.

"¿Hola, mijo, ya te despertaste? (Hi, my boy, have you woken up yet?)" he hums softly.

In response, the baby kicks again.

"He loves your voice so much. I swear he only kicks so you could talk to him. A mi no me quiere, nomas le gusta que le cantes y le leas (He doesn’t love me, he just likes it when you sing and read to him),” you huff out in fake annoyance.

"That's not true. The second-born is always the momma's boy. So the baby loves you the most," Javi says.

"And the youngest loves daddy the most, so no," you refute.

"He won't be the youngest for long," he grins suggestively.

You gasp, “ya me embarazaste, sinverguenza! (You already impregnated me!)"

"But if it was scientifically possible..."

"Shut up," you playfully scold him.

With Javi's hand still over your stomach, your son kicks again, this time much lighter.

"He's upset you told me to shut up," his gaze shifts from looking at you to your stomach as if he could see the baby, and he lowers his voice, “¿verdad, mijo? Dile a tu mami que no sea mala conmigo (right, mijo? Tell your mom to stop being mean to me).”

He looks back up at you, "te acuerdas cuando Ángel hizo eso por primera vez? (Do you remember when Ángel did that for the first time?).”

“Jesus Christ, he scared me, and he made you cry,” you laugh, a smile on your face remembering.

"Oh shit! I forgot to update Jack," you realize and scramble to get your phone. As you start typing to let him know what's going on in the OR, you tell Javi, "By the way, I gave him your phone number."

Javier lets out an unenthusiastic and dry, "Yay."

“Mira (look),” he says while you’re still typing. You look up to where Javi is pointing, and the TV changes to Surgery in progress: Catheter Insertion.

You wince, "They're in his vein now."

"The catheter is the tube that delivers the medicine to his body, right?"

"Yeah," you mumble, typing the next update to Jack.

Javi reaches for one of your hands and rubs soothing circles, “Deja de pensar en eso. Él está bien con ellos (stop thinking about it. He’s safe with them).”

He removes his hand and turns his body to the to-go bag. Javi reaches for the zipper and undoes it. He digs in the back, and you see him pull something out. "Do you need a blanket?" he asks, with a large fuzzy blue blanket in his hand and his soft brown eyes looking at you tenderly. Before you can reply, he places it in your lap and goes back to the bag. Javi fights a little and finally tugs a pillow out of the bag, "a pillow?" he asks with the same puppy eyes.

“I- thank you," you accept both items. You put the pillow behind you so you won't rest your back against the hard and cold wall. You take the blue blanket from your lap and extend it to drape it over the both of you.

"¿Tienes hambre? (are you hungry?)" Javi asks adjusting the blanket.

"Sí" 

He goes back to the bag and pulls out some snacks: Goldfish, Chips Ahoy, granola bars, fruit snacks, dry plantain chips, and a pack of assorted nuts.

"Sorry, I don't have any actual food," he looks at what he's offered you and feels guilty at the limited options. Javi gets up quickly, "I can go get you real food. Are you craving anything?"

"Hey," you wrap your fingers around his wrist and grip somewhat tightly. You look up at him and push him to sit back down. "No. I don't want you to leave."

"Okay. I'll stay," he says softly, kissing where your hair and forehead meet.

A knock reverberates in the room, and a nurse comes in. "Hi," she says, closing the door to come closer to you. "Everything went well. There were no complications. They're ready to transfer Ángel to the Post-op room if you guys would like to follow me."

Both of you look relieved at the news, and you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

"Thank you," you tell her, and Javi can't get any words out. His eyes are watering, and he tries his best to not let them fall.

He starts hurriedly putting away the snacks, just keeping the bag of nuts, while you fold the blanket back up into the neat roll Javi had it in. After the snacks, blanket, and pillow are in the bag again, Javi helps you get up. You send Jack a quick text informing him that everything went well, and you're on your way to see Ángel. Javi puts the bag over his shoulder, and you both follow the nurse to go see your son.

Next morning - Day 1 of Chemo:

Hey, Jack. Ángel is awake and doing well. He asked about having visitors and hoped you would come see him. We explained that it's not possible right now. He understood but wanted to call. Would you like to FaceTime?

That's great. What’s FaceTime?

It's a video call.

Yes. How do I do that?

Instead of texting him back, you initiate a FaceTime call and hand the phone off to Ángel when it starts to ring.

As soon as Jack accepts the call and his face takes over your screen, Ángel's little face lights up. "Mr. Jack!"

Jack's face mirrors Ángel's: a smile so wide, eyes so soft looking at his son.

"I just started chemotherapy," Ángel blurts out just before Jack greets him.

Jack's heart glows watching his son's face. "How are ya feeling?"

"Mmm... I feel okay. Oh! I got the surgery last night, and look at my chemo port." Your son takes one hand off your phone and pulls his hospital gown just enough to show Jack his port. "Look! You can see the bump of the port under my skin. Eww, it looks gross. It's so cool."

Jack laughs, and that makes Ángel move the phone back to his face.

"Does it hurt?" Jack asks.

"Nope. It was a little bit like... sore when I woke up, but it doesn’t hurt now. I had chemo in the morning, and it pinched for a second, but it's wayyy better than the IV."

"It's not a pain to use the restroom, huh?"

"It's easier and faster to go now," his brows pinch in the middle, "I almost peed myself once 'cus I had to wait for the wires to detangle from the bed." Ángel trails off, tilts his head to the side, and squints. "What do you have behind you? Is that a needle?"

Jack turns his head behind to see what his son saw. He had picked up the prescription he needed to be Ángel's donor from the pharmacy the previous night. Jack opened the box out of curiosity and took out a needle to look at, but then he got caught up texting you in the morning and forgot to put the small vial and needle back in the pharmacy bag.

"Umm... yeah?" Jack says uncertainly, not knowing how to explain it to his son. He doesn't want him to know that he's his donor, at least not yet. "That is some medicine I have to take in two days," Jack says, trying to keep it vague.

When the words come out of Jack's mouth, Ángel's eyes show pure concern, "Oh, are you sick?"

"No, buddy," Jack blurts out immediately, "I'm not sick. I'm just takin' them for... to... Just takin' them to stay healthy. They're like vitamins."

"Maybe I should take some so I could be healthy. What's the name of the medicine?"

Jack's heart drops at his son's words. His mind starts spinning, but he takes a deep breath. He'll be healthy soon, he tries to remind himself. "You can't take this one, buddy. It's for adults."

"Oh," he sounds disappointed, but his voice goes back to normal, "Well, that's okay. I can't take vitamins on chemo either way. I think. Vitamins can affect chemo because of cancer cells, but I don't have any so I don't know. I can ask later. How are the horses?"

Donation Day - Day 7 of Chemo:

Jack sat comfortably in a green chair, his right hand extended over a pillow, squeezing a small blue ball as his blood cycled through the machine. Two hours had passed since he settled into the chair. He arrived at the hospital early in the morning with the last dose of his five-day filgrastim prescription, and for the first time, someone other than him administered the injection. Throughout the morning, he had been texting you, checking in on his son, and, though he wouldn't admit it, checking in on you.  Of course, he cared about his son and wanted to know every detail of what he was going through, but this had been the only line of communication he had with you for years, and he wanted to take advantage of the opportunity while you were willing to entertain his conversations. From you, he learned that Ángel's last day of chemo had gone smoothly.

Jack's head spun when he heard a knock against the door. His heart thumped wildly in his chest at the thought of seeing you. When the door opened, a wave of disappointment washed over him. It wasn't you who set foot in the room; it was fucking Javier.

Jack instantly tenses and clears his throat as Javier walks over to him.

"Hi."

"Hi."

Javi crosses his hands over his thick biceps, "How's the donation coming along?"

"It's goin' well. They think in 30 minutes we'll have enough for Ángel," Jack fills Javi in.

"H-how are umm... how are you feeling?" Javi gets the words out, although with much effort. He sounds physically pained asking a simple question to Jack.

"You sound very concerned for my well-being," Jack quips sarcastically.

Not really, Javi wants to say. Instead, he tells Jack, "I’m trying really hard to not hate you.”

It doesn't faze Jack one bit. "Same."

"So just don't do anything to piss me off. More like don't do anything else to piss me off even more," Javi lowers his voice more, "She's my wife; she tells me things. Don't you ever dare call her ‘baby’ again. You're lucky she's not that uncomfortable with ‘sugar’, but if she ever shows one ounce of discomfort, you will stop."

"She never minded all those names before," Jack challenges, glaring at Javi."

Javi smirks, wearing a shit-eating grin as he nonchalantly shrugs. "Yeah, she never did lots of things before me."

Jack is furious. All he sees is red, and just as he begins to rise from his chair to get up, the nurse walks in.

"Oh! A visitor," she exclaims.

"Hello," Javi greets the redheaded nurse in blue scrubs with ducks all over them.

Seeing the nurse enter, Jack comes to his senses and sits back down. Subconsciously, he squeezes the ball so tight in his hands that his knuckles turn white.

"Mr. Daniels, are you okay?" the nurse questions with concern. All she sees is her patient gripping the ball so tightly that his nails are about to rupture through the material. She moves to him and checks his arm to see if there are any signs the needle is causing pain.

Jack's glare tears from Javi and shifts to the nurse. "I'm okay, thank you for checkin’ in on me," he tells her and moves his hand to signal for the nurse to release his arm. "Nothin’ hurts," he smiles up at her.

The nurse understands and checks the progress of the donation. While looking at the machine, she decides to make small talk with her patient and his visitor. "Are you Mr. Daniels' brother?" She turns to ask Javi innocently.

"No," Jack's words drip with disgust.

Javi smiles at how fast Jack denies the nurse's initial thought and says "Not related," under his breath, mumbling, "Thank God."

The nurse doesn't seem to pick up on their animosity and comments, "You two look alike, what a coincidence. Best friends then?"

"No, nothing like that. My wife and I know him, and he's giving our son a gift," Javi says 'our' while looking at Jack.

Suddenly, Ángel crosses their minds, and they both feel some shame for their earlier behavior. They know they can't go on still hating each other because it'll eventually turn into a fight. They just don't know how to set aside their differences.

"I'll call the doctor to get her thoughts, but it looks like we have what we need for the donation," the nurse says, taking note of the blood volume. "In a few hours, one lucky little boy will receive the cells, and he’ll be one step closer to being healthy."

After Jack was hooked up to the machine for two and a half hours, the staff deemed the collection enough and sent the blood bag to the lab to confirm that Jack’s procedure had collected enough stem cells. Four hours later, it was confirmed that there were the desired amount of stem cells, and the team took the cells to Ángel’s room. Due to your son being immunocompromised, he isn't allowed to have visitors other than legal guardians. So, you and Javi update Jack on the transplant.

Day 11 post-transplant:

Remember how I told you he started grafting on the tenth day?

Yes! How his body was accepting the stem cells, and the cells were growing and making new cells.

Mhm. Well, if everything keeps going at the speed it’s been going, Ángel gets to go home in four days!!

Oh, wow! It’s just day 11 after the transplant, and the doctors estimated it wouldn't happen until closer to day 25! Can I go see him then? I know I was cleared to go five days ago, but because I wasn’t feeling well, I didn’t go. My fever’s still here, but I’ll continue to monitor myself.

Sure! You need to be cleared of a fever for 24 hours and have absolutely NO symptoms.

You have my word, sugar.

Day 14 post-transplant:

You're packing all of Ángel's belongings to take home. It's been 14 days since your son's transplant, and he's cleared to go home. You don't know who's happier— you, your husband, or your son. But that doesn't really matter; all that matters is that your family is together. Just as you're collecting your son's toys and getting them ready to shove into the white personal belongings bag, someone knocks on the door. Javi stops placing Ángel's books into a box and hurriedly opens the door. He was expecting the doctor to come in with discharge papers, but it was Jack waiting on the other side.

"Oh, right, you said you'd stop by," Javi remembered.

When you saw Jack standing there not quite stepping inside the room with a red gift bag, you gasped. "Sorry, we forgot you were going to stop by." You turned your neck and saw Ángel reading the book Jack had gifted him, One Hundred Fun Facts About Horses.

"Come in," you usher Jack in. "Mijo," you call, and Ángel looks up from the book he's got his nose buried in.

"Mr. Jack!" Ángel's face lights up like a Christmas tree. He pats a spot in his bed as he tells Jack to sit down next to him. "I want to show you something," Ángel puts the book aside and lowers his shirt to show Jack that the port is gone. "They took my port out!"

Jack almost reaches out and touches his son's scar but settles for examining it with his eyes. "Are you sore?"

"Not really. I'm just excited to go to my house. Did my mom tell you I'm leaving the hospital today?"

"Yeah," Jack chuckles, "she mentioned it. And here I brought you this," he lifts the gift bag onto the bed.

Ángel tears it open and begins to pull the items out. The first gift he reaches is a book, Her Right Foot. "Oh, my God!"

You see the title and direct your question to Jack, "He's wanted that book for a while, how did you know?"

"Really?" Jack's smiling ear to ear. "I just went to the bookstore and thought he'd like that one." His heart feels like it could rip right through his chest because he feels like he knows his son. Jack had browsed many children's books and read the synopsis of every last book. The one he had purchased was the one he felt his son would love, the book his son is currently holding, and Jack was right.

The little boy takes out the next item, which is a box. "A Lego set!" Ángel flips the black box to the front, and he sees that this particular set is one of horses. The horse in the center looked similar to Andor, one of Jack's horses his son loved the most. "Is this an Andalusian?" Ángel looks to Jack, his eyes sparkling."

Jack nods his head, "It is, buddy. It's like a mini Andor."

Ángel seems pleased with Jack's answer and moves on to the last gift. It was another box, but this one was a shoebox. The little boy lifted the top off, and he was met with boots—dark brown leather boots with beautiful and intricate stitching all throughout.

“Is that a longhorn?” Ángel points at the center of the boots. He doesn’t wait for an answer before speaking again, “My grandpa has longhorns on his ranch. Do you have them on your ranch, Mr. Daniels?”

"I don’t have any longhorns, but umm... I have the same boots," Jack looks down at the floor like he’s suddenly interested in the simple pattern of the hospital floor. He wasn’t sure what reaction he expected, but when his son's sweet voice reached his ears, Jack looked up.

"You do?" Ángel was beaming, a smile brighter than the sun. He leaps to move sideways so his legs would hang from the bed. He took his left boot and put it on his baby blue non-slip sock-clothed feet and did the same for the right boot. When both boots are on, he pinches the tip to feel where his toes are. Ángel drops to the floor and begins to walk, showing all three of you his new footwear. 

"How did you get his shoe size?" You're amazed at how they seem to fit perfectly.

"I asked him," Jack nods his head towards your husband, who is smiling broadly, showing his perfect teeth. Javi squats down to Ángel's level and presses his fingers on his son's boot toe box to feel if they're pinching Ángel's feet. "Perfect fit," Javi smiles up at his son, dimple on display, still on the floor.

Once Javi's hands are removed from Ángel's boots, he runs to Jack, "Thank you so much, Mr. Jack," he says, jumping up and down. Ángel runs back to Javi, who is now standing up straight, "¡Papi, quiero una foto! (Daddy, I want a picture!)" Javi complies and takes out his phone from his back pocket.

You turn to Jack, and your voice falls to a whisper, "We're hosting a dinner in a few nights to celebrate Ángel coming home, and we'd love it if you'd join us."

Jack's head reels at the prospect of seeing you and Ángel in a few days, but beneath that excitement, there is fear, "Is your family going to be there?" he asks.

"Yes, and Javi's too."

"It's your family I'm worried about," he confesses, looking into your eyes.

You take in the way his face pales slightly, his eyes widen, and his eyebrows shoot near his hairline. "No. You're more than worried; you look genuinely scared, but you'll be fine."

"'Course I'll be there, Sugar," he says, looking at his son laughing while Javi takes his pictures. If Ángel was a happy and giddy boy before the transplant, Jack now sees how his innocence is amplified now that he's healthy, and Jack can't wait to see more of his son's childhood joy outside the hospital.

"Hey, can I talk with you alone before you leave?" Jack asks you, hoping you'll agree.

"Um, yeah, we can go outside," you agree, noting his urgent tone.

"Javi, Ángel, I'll be back soon. I'm just going to walk Jack out," you say, moving to the door with Jack on your heels.

"Okay, we'll keep packing, amor," Javi tells you, brushing his hand with yours. You lean into your husband for a while until Ángel and Jack say their goodbyes, promising they'll see each other at the dinner.

You and Jack exit the room, and you take him to a little corner further down the hall.

"What did you want to discuss?" you ask resting your back on the wall with brown and cream diamond wallpaper.

Jack's nervous to tell you what he wants: a father-and-son relationship with Ángel. You two never went into detail on how you would tell Ángel the truth about Jack and he's terrified of asking you for something this big so soon after a big weight of stress has been lifted off you. 

"Jack?" 

"Sorry," he clears his throat, "I wanted to talk to you about telling Ángel that I'm his dad- biological."

"Oh," you sound surprised. "Yeah. We didn't really discuss that, did we? I haven't thought about it in so long, I'm sorry. Maybe we can get some pointers from Ángels counselor?" You suggest. "Javi and I thought about making an appointment with a child therapist because of this entire hospital stay. We were hoping to get your opinion on that actually."

It's Jack's turn to be surprised. "I think that's wonderful, Sugar. Thank you for including me in the decision." 

"Of course. I think it would be great if we could get the counselor's opinion on how to best handle the situation. And we too can figure out how this new dynamic would work. For example, medical decisions moving forward. We'll tell Ángel about you and I have no doubt he'll want to have the relationship you want to have with him. We can talk more about the appointment in a few days. We haven't set an exact date for the dinner but it will probably be this upcoming Sunday." 

"I'll clear out my entire schedule," Jack says sincerely 

"We'll have food for you that won't send you into a choking fit," you tease. 

Jack covers his eyes with his hands, "God, 'M so sorry." 

You laugh at his embarrassment, "No, it's okay. I understand the food we serve can take some getting used to."  You continue to tell him about the plans for the dinner that is slowly turning into a party and he just stares at you while you keep talking he gets lost in the moment. He thinks about your laugh and the consideration you still have for him and suddenly Jack blurts out, “I love you."

The smile you had vanishes.

“Jack,” you warn dangerously. “We were doing so good, Jack.” You don't want to—can't see him now, so you close your eyes. The words only needed to be said once for them to threaten tears to spill. "How dare you say those words to me now?” You hiss, your tone now angry but more than anything, filled with frustration and pain. You thought you could handle seeing him, so you open your eyes. "What do you expect me to do with that? I won’t leave Javi if that’s what you’re hoping for.

"S-" Jack opens his mouth, but you cut him off immediately. "No, Jack, let me speak."

"Once, those three words would have made me the happiest person in the world, but now? They’re only causing pain,” you pause, exhaling a shaky breath. “You humiliated me, Jack. Time and time again. Even if I didn’t have Javi, I wouldn’t go back to you.” You sound defeated, your voice carrying the pain of past wounds, and it crushes you to keep thinking about the past.

“I did love you, through everything,” Jack whispers, his eyes searching yours. They are watery and dazed.

“I think…” you run your tongue over your lips and then purse them, “I think you loved me in your own way. But that’s not how I wanted to be loved. During our engagement, and more so during our marriage, I never really felt loved by you. Can you blame me for that if I can count with my fingers the amount of 'I love yous' you gave me?” Your words are like shards of glass, cutting through the air with the sharpness of your pain.

“When you did show me your love, I was so happy, Jack. So happy that I thought, hoped, you would give me more love, so I stayed with you. I longed for the morning you woke up and things would be different, better. Because that’s exactly what happened. You woke up after the night of our engagement, and you were a completely different person, and I couldn't comprehend what I did wrong. I was willing to stay with you forever for the odd chance one day you would feel for me how I felt for you.”

“And I stayed because I always hoped you would go back to your old self. Sometimes there were indications that you were going to become the old Jack. Well, I don’t know if I fooled myself, but sometimes I thought you were happy. Like right before I told you I was pregnant, you had this smile on your face….” Your voice trembles with the weight of those memories.

“Other times I genuinely thought you hated me, and then I thought that’s not possible. ‘Why would he ask me to marry him if he couldn’t stand me?’” 

“Did you always think that?” He sounds sad, a quiet plea for understanding. But your heart, scarred by the past, struggles to find solace in his remorseful gaze.

“Yeah. When… when we were together, it was rare you would look at me in my face. The majority of times you had me face down. How do you think that made me feel? You made me feel used and disposable.” 

“I wanted to be loved by you," you continue, your tone a mix of vulnerability and strength, "and you always made me feel like I was the other woman. Then I decided I should stop trying and let you go.” 

“What changed?” Jack's question hangs in the air. Everything you’ve revealed up to this point has felt like glass shards embedded in his heart. He knows you still have a lot left to say, and it will continue to hurt him, but he owes it to you to hear everything you went through.

“I was at a park one day after you didn’t come home," you recall, emotion tinging your words. "I came across this older man, and he showed me pictures of his family. When he talked about his wife…” you pause, emotion catching up with you. “It was beautiful. And I realized that would never be you. You wouldn’t talk about me that way. Since that day, I took off my rose-colored lenses and thought everything through."

"I thought about your behavior but also about mine. I hated who I was because it sounds ridiculous, but I was jealous of someone who wasn't here anymore. And I swear I never wanted to replace her or erase her from your life, I just wanted you to love me too. I loved you so much; I would've settled for half the love you had for Allison, but you couldn't even give me that. I never told you you couldn't love or mourn Allison. She was your wife, I get that... but I was your wife too, and knowing you would never love me like you did her was slowly killing me.” 

"I thought about one night, which I don't know if you remember," you confess, the vulnerability in your voice palpable. "But one night on her birthday, you got extremely drunk, and you kept slurring your words. I couldn't understand half of what you were saying, but I heard loud and clear when you yelled at me that you didn’t choose to stop loving her; you were forced to. And you said that you would’ve never looked at me otherwise. That you wish she came back and I disappeared… That we s- switched places,” you confess, exposing the scars engraved into your heart, and the pain of that night that is still etched in your memory—a wound that refused to fully heal. You were surprised that you weren't sobbing, because the night he told you those words, you felt your world had ended.

Jack was appalled, his face reflecting the shock and guilt that surged through him as he listened to your words. The heaviness of the past, the pain inflicted, all rushed back to him as a floodgate of memories suddenly opened, each carrying the weight of its own hurt.

"I always felt I was the third person in our marriage. You made me feel things I hated, and maybe even worse, I became someone I didn't recognize. After that day in the park, I was going to ask you for a divorce because I didn't want to be the person you settled for… then I found out I was pregnant. I wanted to give us one last try, and well, you remember what happened after I told you the news,” you say, the bitterness of the past lingering in your words.

"You kept hurting me, and you're smart, Jack. Did you not think I would leave you?" 

Jack exhales, the reminder of his own mistakes heavy on him. "I think I couldn’t let ya go, so a part of me hoped you would leave me if I treated you horribly. Every day I fought with myself to treat you like you deserve, but I wasn’t strong enough to open up to you."

The silence lingers, and Jack takes the opportunity to share a piece of his truth. "The night after I proposed, I had a dream about Allison. She told me I was replacing her, and I dunno, instead of working out through my issues, I took it out on ya.”

“Over a dream? You... you let our relationship go to waste because of a dream,” you say, a mix of disbelief and frustration in your voice. You want to be angry at him because such a trivial thing ruined the chance of happiness, but then you put yourself in his shoes. "Oh, Jack," you add, this time with a tone of understanding and sadness. 

“Have you been to therapy?” you ask him, your tone a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Yeah…” Jack admits with a small, self-deprecating laugh.

“Can I be honest?” you tilt your head, your fingers playing with the collar of your shirt.

He nods.

“I don’t think it helped.”

Jack smiles, a sheepish expression on his face, “If we’re being honest, I went in for two sessions and never saw my shrink again.”

“Well, your therapist probably knew what they were doing,” you playfully scold, but then your voice softens, "Please see a therapist so Ángel can get to know the best version of you. When I knew that Jack, he was amazing, and that's the man I want my son to know."

A sad smile greets Jack's face, "Yes, Sugar."

There's another thing you've always been curious to know but never had the stomach to ask, and this seems to be your window. "Can I ask, did you, um, did you ever sleep with someone else while we were married?"

"God no," the words tumble out of his mouth.

"Well, that's something, I guess," you say, a sense of relief evident in your voice.

"I'm really sorry about everything, sweetheart. I can't believe I ever hurt you. I just miss you so much. I’ve never regretted anything in my life as much as I do not telling you I loved you when we had a chance," Jack confesses, the weight of regret heavy in his words.

"It’s okay, Jack. I’m not your wife anymore, but we had some good times. Sometimes love doesn’t work out how we thought,” you tell Jack, your gaze turning when you hear footsteps that are familiar to you. 

And Jack would forever kick himself for driving you away and not accepting your love. The only piece of solace is that Ángel will have a happy and full life, and you finally got the love you deserved and dreamed of.

Javi starts calling your name, and you answer him so he can walk over to where you are. Once Javi comes into view, he tells you that Ángel’s been discharged and that they're ready to go home.

Jack looks at you once more, his gaze lingering, as if trying to capture every detail to hold onto. He sees the love in your eyes for your husband, a love he once had the chance to cherish but let slip away. It hurts, but at the mention of his son, it gives him the slightest glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he has learned from his mistakes, and he'll find a way to be a part of your lives, even if it's not in the way he once dreamed. The love of his life and his son are happy and healthy, and that will have to be enough for him.

"Bye, Jack. I'll let you know what time we're having the dinner," you say, while Javi wraps his arms around you—a protective gesture that Jack once held the privilege of doing, but did so sparingly.

"Take care," Javi tells Jack over his shoulder, his voice firm but not unkind. He then leads you to Ángel's room, leaving Jack standing alone in the corridor, grappling with the ache of what could have been.

You both start heading down the hallway, and Javi pauses halfway. His eyes search yours, concern written all over his features. 

"Are you okay?"

"I am now," you lean into him and smile. "Jack and I were talking about when we were married," you begin, and Javi tenses involuntarily.

"Hey, no, you don’t have anything to worry about," you reassure him, cupping his face with both of your hands. "Our talk was more about what went wrong, and the bottom line was that I‘m okay with the fact that he wasn’t the one for me."

Javi takes a deep breath, visibly trying to control the surge of emotions within him. "It’s just- me cae mal ese - (I don’t like that-)” You can't help but chuckle lightly at your husband's choice of words.

"As stupid as it sounds, I wanted to make it work when we were married. I saw it in his eyes, I felt it in his words and actions; he didn’t love me, and I couldn’t stay in a marriage like that. I wanted a life with him... It didn't work out, and it's okay. Everything I dreamed of having, I found it with you. I'm the happiest I've ever been at your side. You’re the love of my life and I love being your wife, don't ever doubt that, okay?" Since the beginning of your relationship, you always repeated your love to Javier, not because he was insecure, but because you knew how it felt to be second place, second best, a consolation prize, and you never wanted Javier to think that you settled for him after Jack.

"Say it again," Javi requests, a genuine smile softening his features as he looks down at you.

"What?" 

“That you’re my wife," Jack wants you to repeat the words that make his heart flutter.

“I’m your wife," you say.

Javi, still reveling in the warmth of the words, spins his finger in a playful circle, silently requesting you to say the words again.

“I’m your wife," you repeat, the pride evident in your tone. You take Javi's hand and begin walking to your son’s room.

"Again," Javi insists, stopping you in your tracks.

“I’m your wife.” 

“Otra vez," he requests, this time in Spanish.

You comply, “Soy tu esposa," you tell him and drag him further down the hall to your son's room.

When Javi playfully asks you to say it once more, this time it's you who stops. “Por dios, Javi, ¿en cuántos lenguajes quieres que te lo diga? (My God, Javi, how many languages do you want me to say it in?)” you feign annoyance.

He shrugs, answering with a mischievous grin, “En todos (in all of them).”

Amused, you grab him by the collar of his blue button-down shirt and bring him to a level where you can whisper into his ear, “Ay, Jav, apenas y hablas español (Oh, Jav, you barely speak Spanish).” You kiss his cheek and pull back, leaving him slightly offended but oddly proud. He had hoped for a different outcome when he saw you pull him down; the glint in your eyes made him believe you were going to kiss him on the lips. But, to his dismay, you chose to tease him instead.

"Take it back!" he demands as you stand right outside the door.

“Si lo dices en español (if you say it in Spanish),” you tease with a grin. Javier contemplates for a moment, and in the brief silence, Ángel's laughter and Dr. Navarro's voice echo from inside the room.

"Please?" Javi implores, wanting to savor one more of those heart-skipping phrases before joining his son. Unable to resist his pleading eyes any longer and mindful of the precious moments with Ángel, you relent.

“I’m your wife.”

END

Extended Note: The end! Thank you, everyone, for your kindness throughout the series. I truly appreciate every interaction 🥹.

As for my departure, I'm unsure whether I should deactivate my account or just private my writing. There's one post I received only positive comments on, especially from people with SPD who found it relatable. Apparently, there's a shortage of such stories, so I'm conflicted. Hopefully, I'll have a definitive decision next week.

I'm planning to post the Din story next Thursday; it's just one part, a sex pollen with Virgin!Din, titled 'Paleta.' I'm a fan of El Alfa, and I recently discovered that a song in his new album was sampled from the one I used for the Din story. It got me thinking about what I had written, and I wanted to share it with y’all before I bow out.

Thank you for reading 🫶🏽!

Taglist: @kchavez666 @ttupelohoneyy @mishasminion360 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @stileslvr @pedrostories

[rvbrarepairweekdos]

And so RVB RPW Dos.0 comes to a close

As the final posts come in whether late or in different time zones, I will continue to reblog and share your amazing works. But alas, November 2nd has gone, and so too does the first RVB RarePair Week Dos.0. Thank you so much to everyone who participated, reblogged, and shared your love of these amazing ships.

But wait! This isn't the end. I will be tallying up the ship counts and putting them into nice little charts (hopefully) for you viewing pleasure. This should be posted sometime this month!

Also, if there is a want for it, I would gladly host more fan events on this blog! I know there was talk of gift exchanges and prompt challenges that I think could be super fun! Please keep dming and asking, and I just know we can come up with something for everyone!

Again, thank you, thank you, thank you for making this first installment of rvb rpw dos.0 an amazing experience. This fandom means the world to me and events like these make it feel like home. Please keep participating in fan events and supporting the fan artists, writers, theorists, editors, and all other creators! It just wouldn't be the same without you all!

♥️💙♥️💙

[lurkingshan]

Breaking Down the I Feel You Linger in the Air Finale

Okay pals, I got some sleep and I'm ready to dig into this finale and all its beautiful messiness. I love this show and I'm frankly a little frustrated that we got such an incomplete resolution to the (hopefully) first season when there was ample time to do it right. As ever, pacing and time and information management continue to be major weaknesses for Tee Bundit. As I said last week, the writing for this show has been undeniably messy but it's still holding together on the strength of the production and the performances and the success of some of its big themes and character arcs; that take held firm through the finale and some of the baffling choices made about where to spend our time in this final installment. So, let's dig into it!

The Long Goodbye

I'll say upfront that this is my biggest beef with the pacing of the finale. We spent all of last week on a long and painful goodbye for Yai and Jom, perfectly executed, but for some reason we did another 45 minutes of it this week, not so perfectly executed. While I loved the covering of the mirrors, the saddest sex scene ever (complete with sex moans running as the audio over a memory montage how dare you show!), and the pain of Yai realizing he drew the final picture and watching Jom disappear, we didn't need to retread them saying goodbye to each other over and over again for two entire hours of story time, and we didn't need a long, sappy, on the nose speech from Jom saying things we already knew. As I told @neuroticbookworm, this might be my aro showing but I found the series of repetitive emotional goodbye conversations and memory montages exhausting and not in a good way. If I were the script doctor, I would have kept the mirrors, sad sex, and Yai drawing as the start of the episode and cut the rest, moving much more quickly into the next phase of the story.

Back to the Future

Jom returning to his present day life, trying to cope with his anguish and loneliness and adjust back into things, and further investigating the time travel mystery to figure out a way to reconnect with Yai should have been the main narrative of this episode. Instead, we got a truncated version of it that didn't have time to breath because we'd used up so much time on the above mentioned retread. For my money, Jom's devastation upon finding Yai's letter to him was the most emotionally resonant moment of the finale and the first part of the episode where I almost cried. But we had barely sunk into that feeling before it was abruptly cut short because we were out of time and Tee needed to wrap this baby up.

Eyebrow Scar Yai

Here’s where I get actually kind of peeved, because this final (pre-credits) scene was so poorly set up and executed that to even call it a resolution is a stretch. A modern version of Yai walks into the room, asks Jom why he's crying, tells him he's been waiting for him, kisses him, and then the credits roll!

Now I've been in the tags so I know this caused confusion for anyone who has not read the novel (me too, fam!). And that's because the show had not bothered to establish:

That Yai does in fact have a modern doppelgänger

Who the heck that doppelgänger is and how he’s connected to 1928 Yai

How that doppelgänger would be able to remember Jom when no other doppelgängers in the story can remember their past lives

Based on what we know, could we piece together a reasonable theory about who this man is, how he got there, and the final pieces of the mythology that make sense of it? Sure. In fact, bookworm and I pretty much guessed exactly what the explanation for this was after watching the show, and many of the elements at play here were theorized in conversations we had last week. Book readers like @tipsyjaehyun have now confirmed the full explanation for anyone who cares to go read it.

But the show did not tell us any of this information. If you have to read the novel or have novel readers spoil you on aspects of the story that the show didn't bother to cover in order to understand the ending of the story, the execution has failed. And given the pacing notes above, there is really no reason we couldn't have gotten a better set up for this ending with Eyebrow Scar Yai (yes I know his name but no I'm not using it because the show didn't bother telling me; I am petty like that). Jom could have found this descendant during his time of processing and the ending could have hinged on us realizing this modern Yai is a reincarnation who has his past life memories intact; had we gone into a final kiss between them feeling grounded in all of that knowledge, it would have landed so much better.

Hello Commander

And now on to the post-credits scene, where Tee puts a plea into the universe to give him a second season so he can play around in another time period and explore what is evidently the origin of this soul tie between Jom and Yai. I chose to read this episode tag as separate from the actual season 1 narrative, and I think that was the intention given its placement. If they secure funding for a second season, this tag scene becomes the beginning of that next story, with Eyebrow Scar Yai's kiss sending Jom into another time travel adventure. If they don't we can just ignore it and pretend the pre-credits scene was the end (which is why I'm not happy it was so poorly done). I, for one, would love to see a second season to explore another time period and give Tee a chance to clean up some of this mess he has made of the mythology and season 1 resolution. Shouts to @clairedaring for reporting back from the live showing of the finale on what the possibilities are looking like there. Fingers crossed we get a continuation of this story some day!

Tagging in @waitmyturtles and @twig-tea who also have linked posts above. And shouts to @blmpff @cankersoregirl @pharawee @wanderlust-in-my-soul @italianpersonwithashippersheart @bengiyo @dragonsareawesome123 @wen-kexing-apologist @junghaesin @stuffnonsenseandotherthings @slayerkitty @respectthepetty @chickenstrangers @sunshinechay @btwinlines for posting about this show every week and making it such a fun watch despite having a small audience on here. It was a pleasure watching this with you all!

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 21: "The Sound of Your Voice"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.7k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut [Comfort now exists in this series!!]

a/n: It has be SO LONG since this series got a much needed update!! But here we are with yet another little bittersweet installment. Though I'm working on a happier next part already tentatively titled "Declarations and Desire." And hopefully the tags at the bottom of the post worked, tumblr was giving me issues with the tag list for a few days. Feedback is always appreciated!

Lowering yourself down onto your couch, your eyes focused on the show you'd thrown on to watch while you ate, you felt your tired body relax into the cushions. Adjusting the plate of food in your lap, you made yourself comfortable for the evening. 

You'd had a meeting at work which had run late with your boss tonight and that was the reason behind you sitting down to eat takeout for dinner at almost seven tonight. You were tired and ready to just relax for the evening, looking forward to the phone call later that you’d come to expect from Matt just before you went to bed. It was usually when he’d return from his night out as Daredevil, giving the three hour time difference between you both at least one positive advantage because it meant that you could go to bed at a reasonable hour and still know he’d gotten back home safe.

You’d be lying if you said it hadn’t been difficult trying to navigate your new relationship with Matt ever since you’d come back from your brief visit to Hell’s Kitchen a month ago, though. The pair of you still talked everyday, whether it was via phone calls or texts periodically throughout the day. Matt had even begun leaving you sweet voicemails some mornings when he first got to work, knowing that shortly afterwards you’d be waking up on the other side of the country getting to hear his voice first thing. It always managed to make you smile starting off your day with one of those messages from him, and you’d quickly come to realize just how incredibly sweet and thoughtful he really was every time he left one. Which unfortunately also made you only miss him just that much more, desperate to be able to wake up beside him and hear him say all those things straight to you instead of over a voice message.

You’d also quickly come to realize that Karen had been right. You’d found yourself regretting not taking the opportunity to be more physically intimate with Matt while you’d been in New York and had the chance. You found yourself frequently thinking about Matt in sexual scenarios more often than not since you’d returned to L.A., which often resulted in you being quite sexually frustrated most of the time. His outright flirting with you over the phone hadn’t helped, either. Sometimes once you’d finished a phone call with him before bed, you’d found yourself needing a few minutes with your vibrator just to ease the ache he’d–sometimes intentionally–created between your legs. And often as you’d gotten off, you’d wondered if he was back in his own apartment in New York taking care of himself, too. And that thought only equally further frustrated you and turned you on more every time.

Without a doubt in your mind, when Matt came to visit you in Los Angeles in a matter of weeks, you were certainly not taking sex off of the table. Especially now that you both were officially a couple and with how many years you’d both been waiting for and wanting the other. Because who knew how soon you’d have another opportunity to see him again afterwards for that chance? You’d certainly spent enough years trying to imagine what it would be like to sleep with him, and you were without a doubt tired of only imagining it.

You also knew you wanted to tell him how you felt when you finally got the chance to see him in a few weeks. Of course the word ‘love’ had been mentioned between you both quite a few months ago when you'd first discovered your feelings had been reciprocated for each other, but neither of you had ever actually said it to the other since. Many times you'd found yourself biting your tongue when you were on the phone with Matt, struggling to not blurt it out to him. Often you found yourself overcome with the urge to tell him those three words at the end of a phone call, or to call him up after hearing one of his morning voicemails just so he knew exactly how you truly felt without a question of a doubt after the years of misunderstandings. But it was something you wanted to say to him in person when the moment felt right, not something you wanted to blurt out when he was too far for you to hold in your arms. Though you were dying to finally say it to his face after all these years, and you were even more anxious to hear him hopefully say it back to you in return.

As you were halfway through eating your sandwich wrap, your attention focused on the mindless show you’d thrown on, you heard your phone begin to loudly ring from across your apartment. Chewing the bite of food you'd just taken, you glanced over your shoulder towards your kitchen where you’d left your phone on the countertop once you’d gotten home. Curiously you eyed the device and its lit screen from a distance, wondering who would be calling you right now. Normally Matt didn’t call for another couple of hours; it should have been far too early for it to have been him. But then the fear that something might be wrong hit you and you quickly swallowed down the bite of food, feeling a little sick to your stomach at the thought. Especially with you being too far away to do anything to help.

Leaning forward, you set your plate down onto your coffee table and rose to your feet. You quickly made your way towards your kitchen, your phone still ringing loudly from its place on the countertop as nerves swirled in your stomach, mixing with your dinner. When you were near enough to your phone to see the name displayed on the screen, you were surprised to see it was in fact Matt calling you. Brows furrowing at the sight of his name, you felt worry and concern further fill you as your hand darted out, picking the phone up in a rush before frantically sliding the button over to answer the call.

“Matt?” you asked, feeling slightly panicked. “Is everything alright? Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“What?” he asked, sounding confused. “Yeah, of course everything is okay, sweetheart. Why would you think something was wrong?”

You sighed in relief, the tension easing from your shoulders as you leaned back against the counter behind you. You didn’t even know what you’d do if he’d called because he was bleeding out in his apartment right now.

“Because it's a bit early for your usual phone call,” you pointed out. “Normally you’re out later than this so you call me later. I just figured something was wrong.”

“Ahh, I see,” he answered. “I’m sorry to have scared you, sweetheart. I didn’t think calling you early would have you thinking something was wrong. But I actually wasn’t planning to go out tonight, which was why I figured I’d call sooner.”

“Not going out as Daredevil?” you questioned curiously. “Because you have too much work to deal with?”

Matt laughed, the sound sweet and soothing as it came through the line. You couldn’t help but relax even more at the sound of it, a smile sliding onto your own face as your racing heart began to slow. You longed to hear him laugh in person again, to be able to actually see the way his eyes lit up when he did.

“If that was the case,” he began, “calling you would be a far bigger distraction than just running out as Daredevil for a bit tonight.”

That usual warmth you felt whenever you spoke to Matt soon flooded you, your body sinking down into one of the nearby breakfast bar stools behind you at your counter. Your dinner and the show you’d been watching were quickly forgotten in the other room as you focused on your conversation and the sound of his voice instead.

“How am I the bigger distraction?” you asked him.

“Well for starters, if there isn’t any crime, there’s no need for Daredevil,” Matt explained. “So if the city is quiet, which it thankfully is tonight, there isn’t much need for me and therefore there’s nothing for me to do. But you on the other hand are always there for me to call. And most importantly, sweetheart,” he continued, his voice dropping to that sultry register he often used to flirt with you over the phone–the one he somehow knew had an effect on you, “I could sit and listen to you on the other line doing literally anything, even just snoring, until the sun came up. Whereas eventually I have to come back home and be Matt Murdock again when I go out in the suit. Therefore you’re the bigger distraction to me.” He paused briefly before adding, “But no, that’s not the reason I'm staying in tonight, either.”

You crossed your legs in your chair, curiously noting the sudden shift in his tone. He almost sounded…sad? Like something was bothering him. You’d certainly known Matt long enough to know when he sounded off, even over a phone.

“Sounds like something is wrong, though,” you gently pointed out. “What’s on your mind, Matty? Did something happen?”

Matt expelled a long, drawn out sigh over the line. The noise had your lips curving into a frown, especially with how exhausted he had already sounded when you’d first answered. You wished you were there with him in his apartment now, wished you could pull him into a hug because it sounded like he needed one. You'd happily sit there and hold him, comforting him as long as he needed it.

In that moment you found yourself missing the way you’d always had such easy access to each other in college; all you’d had to do back then was walk over to his residence hall and take the elevator up to his dorm. If you wanted to stay up all night talking and drinking, you really could have just skipped a class in the morning. Things had certainly been much simpler back then in some ways more than they were now, though you definitely didn’t miss the heartache you had always carried around not knowing Matt had been within your reach in more than one way that entire time.

“Nothing really,” he told you, his voice sounding a little dejected and worn. “It was just a really difficult week this week and I was having a…bad day, I suppose. I just missed the sound of your voice, if I’m being honest.”

You felt the ghost of a smile cross your lips at his words. You knew that feeling all too well. Truthfully you felt it every single day when you thought about him, but even more on the days that were long and draining. Days like today.

���I’m always just a phone call away, Matty,” you assured him. “But I miss you, too. I’ve been missing you more than usual lately myself.”

“Little less than three weeks and I’ll be right there with you, sweetheart,” he reminded you softly.

There was a smile in his voice, you could hear it in the way it had coated each and every word of his. Matt was not alone in counting down the days until you could pick him up from the airport and have him all to yourself in L.A. for a little while. You’d already been trying to plan things out, wondering what he might enjoy doing with you the most while he was here.

“I’m excited to show you around out here,” you told him, a small smile making its way back onto your lips. “Take you away from that cold New York winter for a bit. Maybe I can bring you to a beach out here, one not filled with tourists. My coworker showed me a good place shortly after I moved here.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, a brightness returning to his voice already. “I’ve never been to the ocean before. Or a beach.”

“I know,” you told him. “Figured it might be a fun experience. Or at least…I’m hoping it is for you, considering your, you know, heightened senses.”

“Anything I get to do with you while I’m out there will be amazing, sweetheart,” he assured you. “I'm just going to be happy to be with you again. It's already been far too long.”

You ducked your head, your nails nervously toying with the hem of your cotton shorts you’d thrown on after work. He always knew the right thing to say to you, but you could also hear the truth to his words. Honestly you felt the same. You’d easily be content to never leave your apartment for a single minute over the few days he’d be staying with you. If you could curl up with him on your couch for the entire duration of his visit, you’d be blissfully happy.

“Plus,” he continued, his coy tone breaking through your thoughts, “a beach date most likely means you’d be in a swimsuit, right?”

Heat began to creep up your neck and into your cheeks. You’d certainly thought about the implication of a beach date meaning Matt would most likely be shirtless and splayed out on a towel with you, cuddling under the warm California sun. Giving you ample opportunity to appreciate his body and the muscles that his clothing always hinted at, something you’d never once been able to do before as his friend.

“I mean, yes,” you answered softly. “But what does that matter, exactly?”

“Ohh trust me, sweetheart,” Matt began with a deep, amused chuckle, “there’s plenty of ways for me to appreciate you partially dressed on a beach. Where my eyes might fail me, my hands certainly won’t.”

Your cheeks began to flame at the thought of what he might mean by that, your eyes slowly closing. Once more you found yourself mentally kicking yourself for not sleeping with Matt when you’d had the chance last month. Because once again you were beginning to feel that all too familiar dull ache between your legs that was begging to be relieved by him and him alone. 

Clearing your throat, you tried to change the topic before you found yourself too worked up. Something you weren’t entirely sure wasn't intentional even now.

“So what exactly was on the agenda for you tonight then?” you asked him. “If you weren't going out?”

“Ahh, well,” he began, sounding a little sheepish, “truthfully I was just going over some documents and counting down the minutes until I could realistically call you after work. But I eventually caved because I couldn’t make myself wait any longer.”

You sighed, spinning around in the breakfast bar stool towards your counter. Leaning forward, you rested your chin in your hand. “Why couldn't you have gotten the ability to fly with those heightened senses of yours, too?” you joked. “Or like, the ability to teleport? Then you could just show up here whenever you want.” 

Matt laughed lightly over the line and you closed your eyes, trying to pretend he was here sitting beside you. You would’ve given anything for that. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't exactly get a choice in what those chemicals did to me as a kid,” he joked back. “Nor could I have foreseen the usefulness of that for a long distance relationship in the future.”

“I know, I know,” you murmured. “I just wish you weren't so far. I miss you.”

“Me too, sweetheart,” he whispered back, the mirth disappearing from his voice. 

A silence fell over the line, the only sound being Matt’s quiet and even breaths. Those three words once more rose to the surface in your mind, dancing on the tip of your tongue. You wanted so badly to just say them already as you sat there, but you knew now wasn't the right time. Thumbnail slipping between your teeth, you began to half-heartedly chew it as you fought to shove the urge to tell Matt how you felt about him back down. That ache in your chest returned as you did, reminding you that even though you finally had Matt, you didn’t have him how you’d always wanted him. Not exactly. Not yet.

“So how’s work been for you this week?” he asked, voice breaking through your thoughts.

“Eh,” you said, shrugging a shoulder. “Busy, even though nothing much exciting is happening at the office. Still certainly a lot less stressful than your week sounded with that big trial you were dealing with.”

A sigh slipped out of your lips as you continued to distractedly chew your thumbnail. If only you had a way to leave L.A. and realistically move back to Hell’s Kitchen. If only things could be different between you two now that you were finally together. If only you could just decide that you wanted to stop by his apartment and then just go there. Like how things used to be back in college.

“Something on your mind?” Matt asked.

“Not really,” you answered. “Was sort of just…missing how it was easier for us to get together back when we were at Columbia. All those Saturday nights I could just show up with a pack of beer at your guys’ dorm and lose track of time. Go grab breakfast together at the dining hall the next morning with you two while we were all still hungover.”

Matt laughed lightly on the other end of the line. “If only I wouldn’t have been an idiot and just told you how I felt, maybe we wouldn’t have wasted so much time. And maybe you wouldn’t be…”

His voice trailed off, his thought left hanging unfinished over the line. Though you knew what he’d been about to say without him having to say it. Maybe if he’d told you how he felt, you might not have been so far away in L.A. right now. If you’d known how he felt, you might never have left in the first place.

But there was no way to change the past now.

“Hey, do you remember that one night at the bar?” you asked Matt, sitting up straighter in the stool as a memory came back to you. “Back at Columbia, when you called me a female version of Foggy?”

Matt groaned loudly over the line, a grin growing wide over your lips at the sound of it. You could just picture him throwing his head back as he sat on his couch, remembering that moment from all those years ago. 

“Yes, I remember,” he told you. “Though I don’t think I’d thought about that night in a long time. That was the real reason why you left crying that night though, wasn’t it? Because I’d called you a female Foggy?”

“Yeah,” you answered. “Definitely not the thing you want to hear your crush tell you. That you’re basically the equivalent of their best friend.”

“Shit,” Matt cursed, laughing a little. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t truly know just how hurtful that comment was. I hadn’t meant it to be. But what has you bringing that up?”

You shrugged, aware he couldn’t see the gesture. Slipping your nail out from between your teeth, you began to trace the patterns in the quartz of your countertop.

“I’ve always wondered why you’d said that,” you confessed. 

“Because I’m an idiot, clearly,” Matt replied, causing you to giggle. “But honestly I’d meant it as a compliment. And I think when I’d picked up on how awful you’d felt thinking you weren’t good enough for Fog at the time–because that’s who I’d suspected you might be talking about–I was hoping it would help your situation. As much as I didn’t want to see you two together, in that moment it pained me to feel how bad you were hurting sitting there next to me. I was hoping that if you’d possibly meant Fog, that the comment would get him to see just how much you both had in common.” Matt exhaled a deep breath, pausing for a moment. “Though it was…clearly a stupid comment to make at the time. And it killed me to know how much it upset you that night after the fact. I’d never meant to make you feel like that.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, finger still tracing the stone of your counter, “I know.”

“Suppose I wasn’t always as smooth as I thought I was back then,” he muttered.

“As long as you don’t feel that way about me now,” you teased back. “I’m certainly hoping you view me a little differently than a female Foggy.”

“Oh trust me,” Matt said, his voice dropping back down to that sultry tone, the one now raising the hair along your forearms as it rumbled right into your ear, “there’s only one of you that I’d like to crawl into bed with and do all sorts of things to, and it’s certainly not Foggy.”

You felt the heat not just creeping back into your cheeks at his words, but now flooding your entire body and sending your blood rushing south. Raising your hand from the cold stone, you pressed the back of it against your burning cheek. Tongue slipping out, you nervously wet your lips.

“Well maybe in a few more weeks you can finally do a few of those things,” you shyly whispered back.

Matt made a pleased noise in his throat, the sound only causing your thighs to press together on the stool. Swallowing hard, your eyelids dropped closed. You could feel your pulse beginning to race, your heart pounding hard in your chest.

“I was certainly planning on it, sweetheart,” he whispered back. “Now you’re only making me look forward to my visit even more.”

“You’re not the only one,” you replied. “I uh, don’t exactly want to waste anymore time when it comes to that.”

“I think we’ve already wasted enough time,” Matt agreed.

And just like that, you knew tonight would inevitably be another night spent with your vibrator when this call finally ended. But you knew you’d be lying in your bed wishing you had Matt between your legs instead, and that only made you more desperate to somehow find your way back to Hell’s Kitchen and back to him.

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine @harperdoodle @hollandorks @mattmurdocksstarlight @yeonalie @will-delete-this-later-probably @darkened-writer @kmc1989 @yomamasitsaroundthehouse @sumo-b98 @mrs-bellingham @shouldbestudying41 @midnightreids @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @pazii @littlenosoul @haydensith @anehkael @kezibear @dorothleah

[michi-hawkeye]

*chin hands* Tell me about the stickynote

Ooh you’re gonna love this it’s a alternate first meeting and it takes place 2 years pre canon, where Tommy and Buck meet at a book signing of their favorite author. Also the sticky note mentioned in the title is plot relevant I just don’t wanna spoil why

Here’s a snippet (unfortunately I haven’t written Buck and Tommy actually talking to eachother yet 😂) (cause you know why I have too many plot bunnies)

Tommy had been reading Chasing Starlight by Savino C. Zambrano in the bunkroom for a good chunk of his shift after getting his usual tasks done, to make up for the fact he couldn’t go to the signing event for the latest installment that was being held today. Sure he could have asked for the day off weeks ago but he’s pretty sure Captain Gerrad would have laughed in his face and deny the time off if he had, he’s pretty sure the only books his captain had read were the textbooks at his time in academy if the old man’s ability to be obtuse and a asshole were anything to go by.

The novel was the first book in the series and if he had his way he would have had the 4th book today, but for now he’ll be content to reread the book that got him into Sci-Fi in the first place, with the cracked spine and age worn, tea and coffee stained pages that are threatening to fall out. He had finally gotten to his favorite scene where the sweet but jaded bounty hunter turned hermit finally admits to the optimistic hero of the series that he sees him as a friend, when the alarm bell started to blare throughout the firehouse. He tries not to groan but he can’t help it he hates getting interrupted even though its work. He goes to hide his copy underneath the mattress of the bottom bunk that he had unintentionally claimed as his during A shift, so long ago.

Its not like he’s ashamed of his favorite series or his love for reading but he would rather not have to deal with the less than kind ribbing the team tends to do being aimed at him if they find out that he likes reading what could be seen as softer but dramatic character driven books, but its also not like he’s any better than them if him not stepping in to help Hen or Chim when they had been the targets was a sign, he’s gotten used to laying low at best and humoring the team at worst. There’s a reason Eli would rather keep to himself or take Chim under his wing when he had worked at the firehouse.

——-

He tries not to look too interested when he hears Captain Gerrad rattle out the address for Lavender Sprig Bookstore where the signing event was taking place, he would think the universe was trying to mock him or something if it hadn’t been for the fact that Gerrad had stated that the emergency was that a bookshelf had collapsed on top of a group of civilians, hopefully it wasn’t as bad as it sounded.

When they arrive they’re greeted by a bookseller who’s hiding her worry surprisingly well for someone’s shop dealing with a pretty sizable event telling by the line at the signing table they passed that he tried not to eye to long, regular flow of customers, on top of possible several medical emergencies. “A Good Samaritan seemed to have the bookshelf handled, he’s been holding it up and when others tired to move the injured from under the shelf he told them not to and to wait until the proper medical professionals have it handled” the bookseller, Mara said as they weaved through bookshelves and people which explained why she was more calm than frantic which isn’t a reaction that’s seen very often on the job.

“Sounds like a dumb kid trying to play firefighter who’s just going to be more of a hindrance” Captain Gerrad grumbled out as they finally got to the collapsed shelves.

“More like he’s just trying to help and he clearly has look around you” he hears hen snip back as she and Chim brush past the crew. Tommy does give a quick courtesy glance at that and notices that despite how close this area of the bookstore is to the signing, the front of the store and registers it’s clearly deserted instead of being filled with the typical nosy bystanders.

He hears captain Gerrad angrily retort “Kinard, De Luca secure the shelves and make sure that kid is out of the way” he gives Gerard a nod in response as he says to Sal “you take the left side I’ll take the right” Sal gives him a thumbs up as he hands Sal the other cord to secure the shelf. As they follow Hen and chim, Tommy taps on the stranger’s shoulder to get his attention since he was clearly crouched in a way that was easier to bare the weight of the bookcase as one person instead of what should be two at minimum which was made harder since the stranger was also being careful to not be in the way of the injured civilians

[flyingwargle]

the sendai frogs are in the studio, dressed in their uniforms and gear, as if they’re headed for a match, except the adversaries they face are hair and make-up, interns that direct their poses, and camera flashes bright enough to make anyone go blind.

tsukishima watches his teammates while leaning against the wall. kyoutani is beneath the spotlight, uniform blending into the green screen, looking more and more aggravated as interns move him to test different poses and angles. when he’s finally ready, a blinding shutter encapsulates the studio. kyoutani remains stiff as the photographer reviews the shot, then gives him a thumbs-up. he slouches away, and koganegawa takes his place.

“this is a waste of time.” he grabs his water bottle and squeezes the life out of it. “why do we need to do this?” tsukishima shrugs in reply. even though they’re a div. 2 team, they aren’t immune to publicity, especially if they were asked by the city museum to help promote the volleyball exhibition starting next month. tsukishima would’ve convinced his seniors otherwise, but as a junior, his words barely have any influence.

koganegawa is posed to be in mid-set, hands over his head, fingers wrapped in sports tape. he has a wide grin on his face, eyes sparkling like the camera flash that threatens to blind them. the photographer only needs a few shots before he’s done, and soon, it’s tsukishima’s turn.

he loops his sport glasses around his head and follows the intern to the green screen. all his teammates were posed in accordance with their positions, and he expects the same treatment as his fellow middle blocker: arms over his head, pretending to loom over an imaginary net. instead, he’s given a book – more specifically, the exhibition guide printed for patrons, the same one that he put together at work. “tsukishima-san, my idea for you is to read this while you’re positioned to block a volleyball,” the photographer tells him. “you don’t even need to look at the camera, just look at the text.”

well, that’s easy enough. he lets the interns angle him and position his arms. the guide just happens to be open to the introductory paragraph to the sendai frogs. he pretends to read, tries not to blink as the camera shutters go off. the photographer snaps a few more before he’s done, and he rejoins koganegawa and kyoutani.

“i wish i got a cool pose like yours,” koganegawa grumbles. “they said they’ll photoshop a volleyball in. why not just let me set an actual one?”

“you’ll break their equipment.” tsukishima slides his regular glasses back on. “i hope they don’t put it around where i live. i don’t want to see my face in public.” kyoutani nods in agreement.

“they’ll definitely put it around the museum,” koganegawa points out. “you’ll see it there.”

“i’ll pretend not to notice.”

their captain calls for them, and they gather to thank the studio for their help before changing into casual wear. the team heads out for food, and tsukishima is more than happy to put the studio behind him – hopefully for good.

--

the advertisements appear around sendai a week later, and the team’s group chat is filled with pictures of them. many depict their captain, nishimura, or their ace, kato. a crew installs banners and other promotional art inside the museum’s lobby and exterior, and by the month’s end, the exhibition is open to the public.

tsukishima trails behind yamaguchi and yachi, unamused that he has to visit his workplace on a rare day off. old banners for the v. league hang from the ceiling, with players like miya, kageyama, and bokuto appearing on more than one. the display cases have donated memorabilia from various teams and athletes, such as trophies and plaques, court shoes and volleyballs, and old uniforms.

“tsukki! come take a look at this!”

he already knows what yamaguchi is referring to. the hallway leading to the main exhibition is decorated with advertisements that feature the sendai frogs, starting with their captain and ace. kyoutani is depicted in mid-spike, volleyball photoshopped in. koganegawa is in mid-set, eyes fierce and long fingers curved around the ball. then, there’s tsukishima.

the editing was done well, he must admit. the net is phased out in front of his face, volleyball glancing off his outstretched arm, the museum guide opened in the other. the caption reads, “read blocking is key to any victory!” no, tsukishima didn’t come up with it, or he would’ve gone with something else.

yamaguchi has his phone out. “you’re famous!”

“shut up, yamaguchi.”

“sorry, tsukki! yachi, can you help me take a photo?”

she happily obliges and tsukishima rolls his eyes. he ducks his head when he hears whispers behind him, notices a few glances in his direction. why did he agree to come, again? damn hinata and kageyama for not being able to make it because of practice.

“what part of the exhibit were you in charge of?” yachi asks him.

“i just helped put everything together.” tsukishima pauses. “well, there is one section that i did work on. it’s near the back.”

away from the crowds around the v. league displays, tucked in the corner, is a small display for local high school volleyball teams. team photos for aoba johsai and niiyama girls, the most recent miyagi representatives for the spring tournament, are shown, along with a collage of photos of other teams – karasuno in action against shiratorizawa; dateko’s iron wall against jouzenji; wakunan against kakugawa, and so on. inside the display case is a medal and team photo. his friends recognize it instantly.

“wow,” yamaguchi breaths. “is that…?”

tsukishima nods. “i’ll get it back after the exhibition ends. thought it’d save my coworker the trouble of calling alumni to ask for donations when i could do it.”

“we have to call everyone to come!” yachi says excitedly. “they’ll be so excited to see it!”

tsukishima turns away from them, looking down at the medal. he isn’t sure if he should be offended that it’s considered an antique now, when the match against shiratorizawa in their first year still feels fresh in his mind. it’s both a symbol of growth and determination – growth for how far he’s come, determination for anyone who walks by and sees it, fueled with strength to stand on the orange court for themselves.

he can only imagine how much further he’ll grow, somewhat eager to see where the future will take him.

--

inspiration: this fanart of tsukki's read block <3

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

Kaiju Weeks in Review (March 31-April 13, 2024)

It took forever (maybe they were waiting on the returns for Godzilla x Kong), but Apple TV+ has finally greenlit season 2 of Monarch: Legacy of Monsters. According to its listing on the WGA site, it'll run from 2024 to 2025. Multiple spinoffs are also in development at Apple; no details on those yet.

Speaking of Godzilla x Kong, it continues to do well, staying #1 at the domestic box office in its second weekend and falling to #2 (behind Civil War) in its third. Current totals are $158 million domestic and $437 million worldwide. It'll soon pass the domestic gross of Kong: Skull Island and the total gross of Godzilla vs. Kong.

Godzilla vs. The Mighty Morphin Power Rangers II #1 promises more of everything: more heroes (the White Ranger joins our heroes from the first comic), more villains (including Psycho Ranger Ghidora up there), and more alternate universes. Godzilla gets a bit buried in all the Ranger antics though.

A couple of kaiju series debuted on TV too: Kaiju No. 8 and Season 2 of Chibi Godzilla Raids Again. The former followed the manga very closely, and as such didn't really keep my attention; hopefully it innovates a bit more going forward. Chibi Godzilla's as irreverent as ever.

Tsuburaya Productions has released preliminary information on the next installment of the Ultra Series, Ultraman Arc. The logline:

A town called Hoshimoto City... On Mt. Shishio, there is a gigantic object towering above the city. Named "Monohorn," (モノホーン, Monohōn) it is actually a kaiju’s horn stuck in the ground since an incident 16 years ago. After the incident known as "K-DAY" in which kaiju appeared all over the world at the same time, monster disasters have become commonplace. In Japan, the Global Defense Force (GDF) uses force to deal with them, while SKIP works closely with the community in scientific investigations and evacuation guidance to prevent the occurrence and aggravation of kaiju disasters. SKIP has also been investigating the Monohorn, the horn of the galactic beast Monogelos (モノゲロス, Monogerosu) that appeared on K-DAY. Yuma, then only 7 years old, was camping with his parents in Mt. Shishio when Monogelos attacked. After miraculously surviving unscathed, he decided to pursue research into monster biology. Despite his traumatic past, he has not lost his “power of imagination” to dream. As a rookie investigator, Yuma joined SKIP and was assigned to the Hoshimoto City Branch. Not long after, another large-scale monster disaster occurs in Hoshimoto City. As Yuma sees the desperate people in front of him, a strong will springs into his mind — “I want to protect them!” At the moment when this strong and straightforward desire welled up from the bottom of his heart, Yuma hears the voice of Rution  (ルティオン,  Rution) a being of light that he once saw as a child: “You and I are one and the same… Unleash your imagination!” When a mysterious light appears in Yuma's hand and envelops his body, the unleashed power of imagination unites light and man and he transforms into Ultraman Arc, the Giant of Light who protects the future! Alongside his precious friends, Yuma, as well as Ultraman Arc, races towards his everlasting dream!

Yuma is played by Yuki Totsuka, while Takanori Tsujimoto is the lead director. He's directed for the series since Ultraman X, but this is his biggest assignment to date.

After beginning to release select Movie Monster Series figures in the States, Bandai America is now fully back in the Godzilla game, with articulated figures, 5-inch vinyls, blind box figures, and transforming eggs all up for preorder at the Godzilla Store and other toy sites. The eggs come from the 2014 Godzilla-E.G. line and the rest is all-new. Not much of a selection so far, but with how big Godzilla is right now, I'm sure there'll be more to come.

SRS Cinema has opened preorders for its War of the Ninja Monsters: Jaron vs. Goura Blu-ray, due in late July or August. Shinpei Hayashiya's latest epic, it'll come with behind-the-scenes footage and maybe a commentary track, which would be nice given how little information is available about his films online.