#how could anyone think this is okay? how could ANYONE think the answer is more death. just.

[downbad4sylus]

“Don’t you have other friends…?”

part 1

synopsis: Sylus goes on another business trip so you decided to spend the weekend in Skyhaven with Caleb. Everything is great, until it isn’t.

content: sylus x afab!reader; use of Y/N; established relationship; big caleb cameo; caleb acts like caleb; mentions of injuries; teeny tiny baby zayne cameo; angst; mostly proofread

tags: @miffysoo @pinky27freak @rcvcgers @worshipthecrow @aikonecrosis @blorbohunter @wandering-spirit-1383

word count: ~4.8k (sorry)

a/n: so this is a continuation/part 2 to “come to drug my girlfriend again” with a much bigger caleb cameo. not sure if i’ll be adding more to this or not, but in the meantime i’m working on a purely-sylus-nsfw fic bc this latest event has me feral lmao

Knocking softly on Sylus’s office door, you waited for his reply of “come in” before entering. He sat in his chair, as casual as always, glancing up from his papers to watch you approach.

“Why do you look so nervous?” he drawled, leaning back and crossing his arms.

You were nervous.

Sylus was leaving on another business trip tomorrow and would be gone the entire weekend. You really didn’t want to be alone the whole time, so you reached out to Caleb to see if he was free, and it just so happened that he had the weekend off.

But telling Sylus…well, you weren’t sure how he would take it.

Sylus had never gotten mad at you, had never so much as raised his voice. Even when you were fighting—which wasn’t often—he would remain calm and collected, not at all fazed if you were yelling. You didn’t think he’d yell at you now, but he wasn’t exactly happy when he found out your childhood best friend had drugged you.

“What’s the matter, kitten?” Sylus asked, pulling you from your swirling thoughts. He grabbed your hand between both of his and traced soothing patterns on your palm. “Talk to me.”

You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves. “I’m going to Skyhaven while you’re gone,” you said, “to hang out with Caleb.”

His fingers froze, and you caught the minute twitch of his brows. “Don’t you have other friends you can hang out with?”

“Tara and Greyson are away for a weekend together so Zayne is picking up the slack at the hospital. Xavier is out doing whatever sketchy shit he refuses to tell anyone about. Rafayel is in another country for an art exhibition. And Simone and Andrew are holed up at the Association working on modifying weapons.” With each friend listed, Sylus’s brows drew closer until there was a deep crease between them. “But Caleb has the weekend off and said I could come spend it with him in Skyhaven.”

Sylus closed his eyes, inhaling through his nose, and you stayed silent as he processed this information. He knew you would’ve already bought train tickets, not that he would be able to convince you stay in Linkon—or even at the base—regardless.

“Y/N,” he said finally, opening his eyes to fix you with a hard stare, “the thought of you alone with him for an entire weekend, while I’m gone, does not sit well with me.”

You opened your mouth to defend your decision, but pressed your lips together when he held up a hand.

“I wasn’t finished,” he admonished, but his tone was soft, gentle even. “I know how much it means to you to spend time with him, so I’d like to propose a compromise.”

“Okay,” you breathed. “What’s the compromise?”

“For the sake of my sanity, I can be agreeable to you going as long as you answer my texts or calls in a timely manner so I know you’re okay, and you let me know what you’re doing so I don’t think something’s wrong if you don’t answer me right away.”

Considering the circumstances, you didn’t think Sylus’s requests were unreasonable. In fact, you loved the idea that despite being busy with business, Sylus would still be texting and calling you.

So you nodded excitedly. “I can do that, absolutely.”

He visibly relaxed, squeezing your hand as he whispered, “Thank you.”

You pressed a kiss to his brow. “It’ll only be a few days.”

Sylus huffed. “It sounds like you aren’t going to miss me, sweetie.”

“Not one bit,” you teased with a wide grin.

His red eyes darkened with a dangerous glint. “No?” He rose from the chair, now towering over you. “Well,” he sighed, fingers grazing your cheek, “I guess I’ll just have to give you something to remember me by.”

—

Stepping off the train and onto the platform in Skyhaven, you adjusted the collar of your shirt, hoping it still covered the hickey Sylus had left on your neck. He was a biter, and last night was no different. You had to give him credit, he said he was going to give you something to remember him by and he delivered on that promise. You chuckled to yourself, trying and failing to ignore the delicious soreness between your legs.

You fired off a text to your boyfriend, letting him know you’d arrived at your destination. He replied within seconds, saying he was glad you had a safe trip and to let him know when you got to Caleb’s.

“Y/N!”

Your head snapped in the direction of your name, finding Caleb waving excitedly as he jogged to where you stood on the platform. You smiled at your childhood best friend and met him halfway.

Caleb pulled you into a tight hug, one you returned, happiness flooding through you at seeing him again.

“How was the ride?” Caleb asked, pushing you back by your shoulders. His gaze caught on your neck, his eyes narrowing slightly as sense of possessiveness flared in his chest.

“It was fine,” you said, oblivious to his reaction. “A normal train ride.”

Caleb smirked, his expression smoothing. “Good to hear. You hungry? We can grab somethin’ to eat on the way back to my place, unless you want me to cook for you.”

Your smile widened. “I want you to cook for me!”

“Yeah? Your boyfriend can’t cook as well for you?” he teased, cocking his head.

“Caleb!” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “Please don’t start, I just got here.”

He laughed, throwing his arm over your shoulders and tucking you against his side. “I’m kidding,” he insisted. “I know no one’s food is as good as mine.”

You shook your head, but did not disagree with him, something he noticed right away. “Can you make chicken wings? I haven’t had yours in so long.”

“Of course, pip-squeak. You mind if we stop at the store to get the stuff I need?” He started steering you away from the platform toward the exit.

“Not at all, it’s been a while since we last grocery shopped together,” you said. “Remember when we were little and I lost you and Gran in the store?”

Caleb chuckled. “Yeah and you started cryin’ so loud we heard you from a couple aisles over?”

You laughed too. “Hey, you probably wouldn’t have found me otherwise.”

He jostled your shoulders. “You know I wouldn’t have left that store without you.”

You peered up at him, finding him already staring down at you with such fondness it made your heart squeeze. “I know, Caleb.”

Caleb kept his arm around you until you reached his car where he finally released you in order to open the passenger side door. You gave an exaggerated curtsy before you got in, Caleb’s laugh still audible even after he shut the door. As he rounded the car toward the driver’s seat, you pulled out your phone and updated Sylus on your plans.

Going to the grocery store to grab some stuff for dinner. How’s business?

His reply came shortly after Caleb slid into, and started, the car.

Whats for dinner? and business is fine boring as always without you here.

“Who are you textin’?”

“Hm?” You looked over at Caleb. “What was that?”

“I asked who you’re texting,” he repeated. “You’re smilin’ at your phone all weird.”

“Weird?!” you exclaimed. “I am not!”

“Are too,” he taunted. “Are you gonna answer my question?”

You dropped the phone into your lap with a huff, Sylus’s text still unanswered. “If you must know, I’m talking to Sk—um, Sylus.”

It was still strange calling Sylus by his real name to someone who wasn’t a part of his inner circle, but you knew better than to use his alias in front of Caleb.

“Been apart for a couple hours and you’re already textin’?” Caleb asked.

“We text all the time, Caleb,” you said, lifting your phone again to respond to your boyfriend.

Caleb’s making me chicken wings. I’ll send you a picture when they’re done. I miss you.

Sylus sent an emoji of a dove cuddling a crow.

Miss you too sweetie. i look forward to seeing your dinner later.

As you texted, Caleb’s grip on the steering tightened until his knuckles were white. It hurt him to think that you wouldn’t be giving him your undivided attention during your visit, and well, he just couldn’t have that. He’d have to come up with a way to solve this little problem of his before the weekend was over.

��

You decided not to send Sylus the picture of your chicken wings until after dinner since Caleb seemed to tense up every time you so much as touched your phone.

Dinner was delicious though, and you were happy to have shared the meal with Caleb.

The day had gone well, the two of you reverting back to your old ways, teasing and joking with each other like no time had passed.

Your heart was warm as you strolled into the bedroom you called your own at Caleb’s house, the one that was once his. You unwrapped the towel around your body, having just gotten out of the shower, and changed into comfy clothes. Caleb was showering now, then the two of you would settle in for the night to watch a movie. You took this opportunity to give Sylus a call.

He picked up after the first ring.

“Sweetie.”

Your face split into a grin. “Hey Sy.”

“All done for the night?” he asked.

“No, Caleb and I are going to watch a movie but I’m waiting for him to finish up in the shower so I figured I’d check in on my super important, big bad businessman boyfriend.”

Sylus snorted. “Super important, huh? I would much rather hear about your day, sweetie.”

“No, uh uh, you first. You know you can’t get away with that anymore,” you admonished.

“Fine, fine,” Sylus sighed, though you could hear his amused smirk through the phone. “It wasn’t all that exciting. I sat through a day full of meetings, keeping myself entertained by texting my beautiful girlfriend. Then earlier tonight I went to an auction where I bought you a few pieces for your growing jewelry collection. And now I’m talking to you.”

“That all sounds exciting to me,” you said, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. “Are you tired? I know how meetings during the day can exhaust you.”

“I’m okay,” Sylus murmured. “I’ll sleep for a few hours before I’m back in more meetings.”

“Don’t overwork yourself, please.”

“I won’t, sweetie. Now, it’s your turn, tell me about your day.”

You inhaled through your nose. “Well, Caleb and I went grocery shopping after he picked me up from the train station. We hung around for a little once we got to his place before we started dinner.”

“Oh? And did you help make dinner?”

You giggled. “No, you know I didn’t.”

Sylus chuckled. “You are a terrible sous chef.”

“Hey! You love it when I’m your sous chef!“

Caleb knocked loudly on the bedroom door. “Pip-squeak! Are we gonna watch a movie or what? I already popped the popcorn.”

“I’ll be out in a minute!” you yelled.

“Go watch your movie,” Sylus said softly. “Text me before you go to bed, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I love you, Sy.”

“I love you too, sweetie. Thanks for calling.”

“Of course, I’ll text you later.”

Caleb was waiting for you in the hall, as if he had been standing there listening to your call with Sylus (he was).

“How’s your boyfriend?” he asked, the picture of innocence.

You rolled your eyes at him and headed to the living room. “He’s fine, thanks for asking.”

Caleb scoffed. “Yeah, nooo problem.”

You whirled around and punched his right shoulder.

Caleb, feigning hurt, gripped his shoulder. “Ow Y/N, I think you broke it. You’re gonna have to take me to the hospital now.”

You laughed and punched him again.

“Oh that’s it.”

You squealed as Caleb reached for you, barely dodging his fingers before breaking into a run to avoid being caught. He chased you around the living room and into the kitchen where you two got in a stand off on either side of the island.

“Caleb stop!” you cried as he mirrored your every move. “I thought we were watching a movie!”

“You’re the one who assaulted me, pip-squeak,” Caleb protested, smiling from ear to ear.

“I’m sorry okay?!”

Caleb crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re sorry?”

You raised your palms in surrender. “Yes, so sorry, I shouldn’t have done it. I take it all back.”

“Hmm.” Caleb tucked a contemplative hand under his chin. “I guess you seem sorry.”

You stretched your arm across the island, pinky first. “Pinky swear.”

Caleb flashed you a conspiratorial smirk and locked his pinky around yours. “Okay, you’re forgiven.”

“Yay! Can we go watch our movie now?”

“Yeah, come on pip-squeak.”

—

Sylus’s texts grew more infrequent the following day, and you knew it was because his worry was assuaged knowing your first night was without incident.

You were a little relieved, not because you didn’t want to talk to your boyfriend but because Caleb had made several comments about you being on your phone too much. He even went as far as to say Sylus was “breathing down your neck.”

“He’s just making sure I’m okay,” you had shot back at him. “You haven’t exactly given him reason to trust you, Caleb.”

Caleb couldn’t argue that. And maybe if he were in Sylus’s position, he’d be acting the same way. Worse, actually, he’d be acting much worse.

It was the only tiff you two had gotten in, and it far from ruined the nice weekend you were having.

Today, Caleb took you out to show you around Skyhaven. You went sightseeing and shopping, making Caleb carry your bags which he did enthusiastically and without complaint. And you decided to end the day with a nice dinner that Caleb paid for, the two of you now making the trek to the parking garage Caleb had parked in earlier that morning.

“I can take one of those bags, you know,” you said, eyeing the three bags hanging from Caleb’s right forearm.

“It’s no problem, I’m fine to carry them,” he insisted, shooting you a wide grin. “You really didn’t buy that much.”

“Can’t have a million bags to bring on the train with me tomorrow,” you quipped.

Caleb chuckled. “No of course not, that would be highly inconvenient.”

“I’d look like a lunatic!”

“Now that’s a little dramatic, pip-squeak.”

“I’ve never been dramatic a day in my life.”

Caleb abruptly stopped walking and just stared at you for a few seconds before bursting into hysterics. You followed suit, laughing so hard you doubled over.

“Okay, stop, stop,” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. “I can’t breathe.”

That only sent Caleb into another wave of laughter, clutching at your arm as if he needed to ground himself.

It took at least ten minutes for you and Caleb to calm down, both of you leaning against the wall of a nearby building, trying to catch your breath.

“Ah man, I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard,” said Caleb, wiping tears from under his eyes.

“Yeah me too,” you said, looking up at your childhood best friend. You grabbed his left hand and squeezed. “I’m really happy you’re back Caleb.”

“Y/N,” Caleb breathed. “I’m really happy I’m back too—“

Your Hunter’s Watch chose that exact moment to start frantically beeping. Your heads jerked toward the Metaflux fluctuation mere yards away.

Caleb dropped the bags he was holding and pulled out two guns from underneath his jacket.

“I didn’t bring any weapons, give me one of your guns,” you said, holding out a hand.

“I can handle this, just stay here,” Caleb retorted.

The Wanderer appeared, sending any nearby people scattering.

You grabbed his arm, stopping him from advancing any further. “Caleb, I’m a Hunter, now give me a gun.”

Caleb leveled you with a hard glare, looking more like the Colonel than your best friend. “Stay. Here.”

He wrenched his arm from your grip and strode toward the Wanderer.

“Caleb!” You moved to go after him only to have the weight of his Evol surround you, keeping you locked in place. “Caleb!”

He didn’t answer, didn’t so much as turn around and acknowledge you. You couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest. How could he do this? How could he, after everything, still treat you like a little girl he needed to protect? You were hurt and frustrated and regretting ever coming to Skyhaven in the first place.

And worst of all, you knew you could never tell Sylus about this.

A second fluctuation formed close beside you.

“Caleb!” you screamed, desperately trying to get his attention. Again, he didn’t even turn his head. “Shit. Shit.”

The Wanderer appeared, its focus zeroing in on you.

You struggled against Caleb’s Evol, crying out for his help, but your pleas went unanswered and the Wanderer attacked.

As Caleb sank the killing shot into the Wanderer he was facing, he heard it. The sickening crack followed by your agonized shriek.

He whirled around and the world slipped from under his feet.

There you were, your shoulder obviously dislocated, and the second Wanderer backing away from where it had slammed into your side. Pain twisted the expression on your face and Caleb felt it as though you had grabbed hold of his heart and crushed it in your fist.

This was his fault. You were hurt because of him.

“Caleb.” His name was a broken, desperate sob from your lips, begging for his help. Begging him to let you go.

He did, releasing the hold his Evol had on you and you collapsed to the ground, holding your ribs with your uninjured arm. Caleb made quick work of the Wanderer then rushed to your side.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, where does it hurt?” he asked, his hands hovering over you, not knowing where to start.

You resisted the urge to cringe away from him. He didn’t mean for you to get hurt, you knew that, but if Caleb had just let you fight then this would’ve never happened.

“Okay, okay, I’m going to pick you up and we’re going to get you better. Okay, pip-squeak?”

You bit your lip and nodded, not trusting your voice at the moment.

Caleb swept you into his arms with as much gentleness as he could manage, but it didn’t stop the wave of pain that crashed through you. Your bags were forgotten as Caleb made a break for the parking garage.

—

You ended up passing out in the car on the way to Caleb’s house, the pain just too much for you to handle.

Caleb, who luckily had some medic training under his belt, was able to assess your condition. Your shoulder was dislocated, and he was pretty sure your ribs were at least bruised, at worst cracked.

By the time you regained consciousness, you were laying in bed with Caleb sitting beside you. His eyes were full of guilt and concern, the two battling for dominance within the purple hues.

“Hey,” he murmured, brushing the hair from your face. “How are you feeling?”

You scrunched your eyes closed. “It hurts Caleb.”

“I know, pip-squeak, I’m so sorry.” When you didn’t respond, he sucked in a deep breath before saying, “I set your shoulder while you were unconscious, does it feel any better?”

You shifted your shoulder. It still hurt like a bitch, but it felt better now that it was back in the socket. “Yeah,” you managed with a nod. “Thank you.”

Caleb huffed a humorless laugh. “Don’t thank me, I’m the one who got you into this mess.”

“Caleb, please, I know you didn’t mean it.”

He shook his head.

You really didn’t have the energy to fight with him right now, to convince him of the intentions behind his own actions. “Do you have my phone?”

Caleb went rigid, his gaze hardening. “Why? So you can call your boyfriend?”

“Yes, Caleb,” you hissed. “Unless you want Sylus to come break down your door.”

He laughed again, a chilling sound. “He isn’t going to break down my do—“

Caleb was quick to eat his own words at the sound of his door being broken down at that very moment.

“Y/N?!”

You couldn’t help the relief that flooded through you hearing Sylus call your name. You never doubted for a second that he wouldn’t stay true to his word in coming for you if he thought you were in trouble.

Caleb, however, looked like he could commit murder.

You tried and failed to grab Caleb’s sleeve as he rose from the bed and marched out of the room all together.

Caleb didn’t think the several missed calls and dozen unanswered texts on your phone would lead to the head of Onychinus busting down his front door. Though perhaps Caleb was naive to underestimate Sylus and the lengths he would go to for you. If he weren’t the obstacle keeping you from Caleb, he might have had some respect for the snowy haired man currently seething in his living room.

“Where is she?” Sylus growled, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

“She’s resting,” Caleb said simply.

Sylus huffed, unamused by the Colonel’s response. “Let’s not make this more difficult than it already is, Colonel.”

Caleb’s eye twitched. “What are you even doing here?”

“I’m here to take my girlfriend home because you clearly cannot be trusted to be around her,” was Sylus’s reply.

It only made Caleb angrier that Sylus wasn’t so much as raising his voice. As if Caleb wasn’t a threat but a mere nuisance getting in Sylus’s way.

The weight of Caleb’s Evol emanated from him like an aura as Sylus’s black-red mist swirled around his fists.

But before the two could break into an all-out brawl, you stumbled into the living room.

“Stop, both of you please stop,” you pleaded.

Sylus’s red eyes lit with fury upon seeing you. You hadn’t answered him because you were hurt. He was going to kill the Colonel for this.

“Y/N, what happened?” he asked, his tone noticeably softer when speaking to you.

“I’m fine, it’s fine, we just ran into some Wanderers on our way home from dinner. The fight got ugly,” you explained.

Sylus knew you better than anyone though, and he knew you weren’t telling him the whole truth.

“What did you do to her?” he snarled at Caleb, taking a step toward him.

Panic sluiced through your veins at that minute movement from Sylus, knowing he wouldn’t be letting Caleb off so easily this time.

So you did what any normal person would do in this situation.

You broke down in tears.

Sylus’s entire focus shifted to you and he was at your side in an instant. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his hands capturing your face so tenderly it made your heart ache. “Are you in pain? Where does it hurt?”

You shook your head. “I want you to stop fighting.”

His brow buckled. “Sweetie, you’re hurt because of him, you know I can’t just let that go.”

“Please!” you cried. “Please stop, Sy, I can’t have the two most important people in my life hating each other. I can’t handle it!”

Sylus tucked you into his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll stop, but you’re coming home with me.”

You nodded, your cheek rubbing against his shirt. “Okay.”

“I’ll go get your bag. Don’t move.”

Sylus pushed you back and sat you on the couch, kissing your forehead before striding for the room you’d been staying in, not sparing the Colonel a glance.

Caleb had stood stock-still during the entire exchange, staring with wide eyes and an aching heart. The way your body melted into Sylus’s with the simplest of touches, the way your expression eased when he kissed your head. It was awful. It was so unbearably awful.

When you were left alone, he stumbled over to you as if in a daze.

“Pip-squeak,” he muttered, “don’t go.”

Your eyes, full of anguish, met his. “I’m going Caleb,” you whispered. “It’s the only way to keep you both from killing each other.”

“I wasn’t going to do anything,” he protested, collapsing onto the floor in front of where you sat. “I promise I wasn’t.”

You hung your head, defeated. “It’s too late. What’s done is done.”

Caleb was desperate. If you left, would he ever see you again? Would your stupid boyfriend forbid you? Or would you not want to be near him?

He grabbed your hands. “Please tell me you’ll come back.”

“Caleb.”

He stared up you with such profound sorrow. “Please, Y/N, I don’t want to lose you.”

“You aren’t going to lose me,” you assured. “We just need to let things settle for a while, okay?”

Caleb was abruptly pulled away from you, Sylus having returned from gathering your things and dragging Caleb by the back of his collar.

“You lost the privilege of being near her,” Sylus said, matter of fact.

Caleb snapped to his feet and slapped Sylus’s hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t touch her,” Sylus hissed.

A fresh wave of tears poured down your cheeks. “I said stop fighting!” you wailed. “Sylus can we please just go?”

“Of course, sweetie. Can you walk?”

You nodded, holding onto his arm with our one good one for support as you stood.

You said nothing to Caleb and he said nothing to you as Sylus walked you out of his house. You didn’t know what to say, and neither did he. Sorry didn’t cut it, even if you assured him it was okay. All he wanted to do was protect you, to prevent you from getting hurt and yet it was his fault that you had. It was his fault you were led out of his house by your boyfriend, leaving him behind.

Maybe he deserved this. Maybe it was karma for leaving you and still expecting you to welcome him with open arms once he came back. How could he possibly make it up to you now? How could he possibly convince you to love him when it was Sylus swooping in to rescue you?

This wasn’t how this weekend was supposed to go, and Caleb had no idea what it meant for his future with you.

—

“I know you aren’t going to like it when I say this, but I don’t want you going back to Skyhaven.”

You sighed, fidgeting with Sylus’s fingers as you both lay in his bed. “I don’t like it, but I also can’t blame you for saying it.”

Before returning to the base, Sylus had first taken you to Akso Hospital where Zayne looked you over. The doctor ensured that your shoulder was properly set and put in a sling, as well as determined your ribs were in fact bruised, and not cracked or broken. He sent you off with a prescription for painkillers and a treatment plan, knowing full well that Sylus would take care of you.

“Next time I have a business trip, you’ll be taking time off and coming with me,” Sylus said, brushing his lips along your cheek. “It’s so much better when you’re there anyway.”

You smiled and leaned into his touch. “Then I can pick out my own jewelry at the auction.”

Sylus chuckled. “I’ll buy you anything you could ever desire.”

He’d also make you forget about your childhood best friend, who seemed to be far more trouble than he was worth. Though Sylus knew better than to say so aloud, but made his silent vow nonetheless.

You turned your head and placed a chaste kiss on Sylus’s lips. “Thank you.”

“For what, sweetie?”

You kissed him again, more earnestly this time. “For everything, Sy.”

He drew back, wanting to look you in the eye as he said, “I’ll always be here for you, Y/N.”

—

Caleb’s phone buzzed and it took every ounce of effort for him to pick it up.

I forgive you, Caleb. We’ll talk later this week, okay?

Your text nearly brought the Colonel to tears.

okay, pipsqueak :)

He gripped his necklace tight, and read your message over and over again until it was burned into his retinas so, even with his eyes closed, he could still see it.

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

A Super Soldier's Soft Spot

pairing: post tfatws!bucky barnes x fem!reader

genre: flufff

el's thoughts: first time writing for bucky!! it's probably a lil ooc, but i figured i'll post it anyway. hope yall like it!!

masterlist

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. Winter Soldier. Ex-Winter Soldier. Avenger. The-One-With-The-Metal-Arm.Uncle Bucky. Babe.

All are names Bucky answers to. Granted, the last one was the latest addition to the list. He met Y/N at a little backyard barbeque at the Willson’s, that Sarah had put together. Sam invited him and he was promptly introduced to Y/N—Sarah’s friend since middle school. Bucky hated to admit that Sam had finally found him a match but he couldn’t deny how quickly he fell for Y/N. 

She was a breath of fresh air in the storm that was his life. Cliche. He knows. 

“Hurry up! We’re going to be late!”

Bucky chuckled, “I’m the one closest to the door, Y/N/N.” He tugged his leather jacket on and grabbed his keys from the key hook by the door. “Plus, you know your family doesn’t start dinner at the time they say they would. We’ll still get there early.”

Y/N hopped on one shoe-clad foot as she slipped the other shoe on, clutching her canvas tote bag in her other hand. “Still.” She stood up straight in front of him with a bright, teasing smile and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Okay, let’s go, Super Soldier.”

Bucky rolled his eyes playfully and held the door open for her, followed her out, and locked it behind him. If anyone asked him just five years ago if he saw himself going to family dinners once a month he would have laughed in their face. Yet, here he was, helping his girl into his car to drive them to her monthly family dinner. 

Pulling into the large crowded driveway of Y/N’s family home, she reached across the center console and squeezed Bucky’s hand excitedly. Y/N’s older sister had texted her beforehand, letting her know that the kids would be joining them. Since Y/N’s nieces and nephews are in their early to mid-teen years, the kids seem to always have plans of their own on the weekend. The kids had grown incredibly fond of Bucky, already claiming him as their favorite. Y/N had tried to warn and prepare him for how overwhelming her nieces and nephews could be but Bucky surprised her the first time he met her family. 

Bucky didn’t realize how much he missed being in a family setting, having forgotten how his own mother and sister were. 

As soon as Bucky and Y/N stepped out of the car, the front door swung open hazardly. 

“Uncle Bucky!”

Bucky barely had time to register the title before a whirlwind of limbs tackled him. He allowed himself to stumble back playfully, wrapping his metal arm around Y/N’s youngest niece, Ava, who clung to him like a koala. 

“Hey, kid,” he chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Thought you had plans with your friends?”

Ava grinned. “Canceled. I had to be here. You promised to help me with my soccer drills.”

“Ah, right,” Bucky nodded while a smirk tugged at his lips. “You think you’re ready to take me on, huh?”

She crossed her arms, feigning confidence. “I’m faster than you.”

“Sure, kid,” he said, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm as he followed Y/N up the steps.

Inside, the house was alive with chatter, and the smell of something delicious and savory, simmered on the stove. Y/N’s mom greeted them first, pulling Bucky into a hug before she moved to kiss Y/N’s cheek. It had taken him a while to get used to the casual affection Y/N’s family showed him, but now? Now, it didn’t send him into fight mode. Now, he let himself melt into it.

“Bucky. Sweetie, you look too thin.” Y/N’s mom fussed, cupping his face. “Are you eating enough?”

“I–”

“He eats more than enough, Mom.” Y/N cut him off with a laugh. “Don’t let the super soldier metabolism fool you.”

Before Bucky could defend himself, Y/N’s two oldest nephews appeared, grinning as they exchanged knowing looks.

“You bringing the metal arm for football, or are you scared you’ll embarrass yourself?” Tyler, the eldest, challenged with a smirk.

Bucky raised a brow. “Kid, I fought aliens. You really think I’m scared of a game of backyard football?”

“Prove it then.”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head as Bucky let himself be dragged out to the backyard by the boys. “You’d think they’d stop testing him by now.”

Her older sister, Marie, smirked, handing Y/N a drink. “Please. They love him. He’s the first guy you’ve brought home who actually keeps up with them.”

Y/N smiled, watching Bucky as he jogged across the backyard, already intercepting a pass with an ease that left her nephews gaping. He looked so… happy. Like he belonged.

Like family.

Marie nudged her side. “He’s the one, huh?”

Y/N glanced at her sister before looking back at Bucky, who had just scooped up Ava onto his shoulders as she cheered. 

“Yeah,” she murmured, heart swelling at the thought of Bucky being a part of her family permanently. “Yeah, I think he is.”

[fanzou]

To Be Vigilant

✗ Pairing: Zoro Roronoa x GN!Reader

✗ Genre: Fluff

✗ Total WC: 0.8K

“‘N…. I don’t know, he’s just so… handsome and masculine and so great in all the right ways.” You say so dreamily, palm propping your head up.

Robin just takes it all in, not ‘cause she wants to. But because she has to. She really does love you. Truly. Had it been anyone else she’d probably grow just a smidge irritated. Well, not like she wasn’t right now. This, here, right now, her zen time? She’d likely pick up a book and enjoy her favorite drink and go to town, and that was the initial plan—but alas, here you were talking about Zoro like a schoolgirl in love.

So yeah, she was a smidge irritated but she’d tolerate it, for you.

“Do you want me to stop talking about him?” You smile, sheepishly while tracing the outline of the wooden table.

If Nami was here, she’d answer with the most blunt and straightforward, YES! ever. Pity for Robin that she wasn’t there to accompany the two of you.

She smiles back, just a little lighter. “I can’t promise I won’t cancel you out while you do.”

You whine her name, resting your head on her shoulder while she swirls her coffee around with a spoon, you have a light grip of her arm.

Like seriously, if it were anyone else.

“Why don’t you tell him how you feel?” Would be the logical approach, and she, by all means, is right. But you often defied logic, many times reaping the consequences. This was one of those times. “You never truly know what he might be thinking.”

“That’s just it. It could go so wrong!”

“It could also go right.” She peers down at your desperate figure, clinging onto her like she was your life-line.

Shit, couldn’t argue with that.

You sigh in a last effort of defiance, “I think I’m fine with liking him from a distance. It’s not doing me any harm right now,” you resume in your own activity—that being fiddling with your fingers, pulling away from the black-banged woman. “Yeah… I mean, watching him work out in the Crow’s Nest is kinda hot.” She giggles at your remark. Wow, that’s kinda surprising.

She’d probably regret it though, it grants you a chance to egg the topic on, “There’s something so charming about his attitude and personality, though. Like he could be such a good boyfriend—No, he’d be a great husband.”

Robin says nothing, a little hm, flipping to the next page over.

And this is where you kinda start feeling bad, it’s not the first she’s gotten an ear load about how dreamy and handsome you thought Zoro was. Probably wouldn’t be the last, either. You’ve yapped Nami’s ear off about it and she was not as generous when it came to your rambles. Partially because there was so much she could take and partially because she cringed at how highly you spoke of him. She couldn’t take it anymore, so… you moved onto your next victim. A voice of reason, (like you’d ever listen to reason anyways.) Robin.

Surprisingly she speaks, “You should be more careful with where you say things.”

…Okay? You look back up to her after your arms are crossed over the other with your cheek leaning on top for a little duration of time, and get a look at the woman as an effort to make her push a little further into her statement.

But she doesn’t. Abruptly Robin stands from her seat, she closes her book and brings her coffee with her. She looks over to the door, as if someone was there—then to you.

“I wish you the best of luck with the swordsman.”

You giggle, “You say that like he’s—”

Oh.

Oh.

And then your worst fears come true. You lose vision of her, and then it’s replaced with the thief of your heart.

Oh shit.

His tone is condescending, and he lifts his head up as if to mock you, “Like I’m?” His shoulder is leaning against the door frame of the room; you’re frozen in place. Eyes as wide as flying saucers, hands gripping the nearby surface. You whimper very slightly.

Shit, was this her plan all along? Was that why she giggled at what you said? She wasn’t really trying to egg you on to speak anymore but, it was so perfect. She did this on purpose, get you to spill in possibly the most convenient time possible. You should’ve known. She’s never taken interest like this before.

And how couldn’t you sense his presence?!

Your palms are sweaty, you’re hot all over, “Like… like…” But he only grins, and it’s so sadistic, he takes delight in your shocked state. He’s truly the devil.

“Guessin’ we’ve got lots to talk about, huh?”

[kwoniele]

his (favorite) cheerleader

synopsis: cheerleading practice seems to affect seungcheol a lot more than you expected.

genre: smut

pairing: seungcheol x cheerleader!reader

wc: 737

warnings: rough sex! clearly i have a kink.. creampie, unprotected sex (please do NOT do this! use protection always) overprotective cheol, praise, scratching 😝, BABE THIS ISNT PROOFREAD ☺️ none of my works are tbh. i think thats all? please lmk if there are more!

authors note: hiii im baackkk!! this was supposed to be a celebratory fic for from behind but unfortunately i got quite occupied with my assignments (ack?) and didn’t get to ginish but u can read this as a standalone haha also my requests are open! please request SOMETHING im in need of ideas.. ok bye enjoy

nervous.

thats how you made seungcheol feel.

honestly, he would have never felt this way if he had stopped you from wearing the skimpy skirt for cheerleading practice. you asked him permission before choosing to wear it for the day because one: you would hate to make him feel like you’re dressing like a slut for everyone to see and two: the girls in your crew are bringing their boyfriends.

you would never admit it, but the girls in your squad have terrible taste for men. all of them are either desperate for a quick fuck with anyone but their girlfriends, or theyre in denial and swear to like women but seem to enjoy having drinks with your boyfriend instead.

but seungcheol didn’t hold you back. he swore it was okay and that you looked amazing in the skirt. he explained that he was going to be right beside you the entire time and that things were going to be alright. because he was there.

he was concerned that the boys would be very much eyeing you for a minute too long, or your name would be the name they’d be chanting for the entire game rather than their girlfriend’s.

he was wrong.

he was the person he was worried about.

the way the skirt almost barely covered your ass, the way your hair stuck to your forehead sticky with sweat, how your chest heaved whenever you finished a routine; he felt like he was going absolutely insane.

regardless of the fact he promised you he’d behave, he wasn’t doing a good job of fulfilling it. he could feel his cock slowly growing in his pants and he was not trying to hide it.

“seungcheol-ah, if you’re in need of relief, we’d really appreciate it if you could do it somewhere else and not on the freshly cleaned bleachers.” irene’s boyfriend lightly elbowed seungcheol,

cheol shot him a glare before his eyes slowly rested on you again. you were hot. if male ovulation was a thing, cheol was the epitome of it. all he heard was ringing and inaudible chatter as his attention was focused on you. his eyes were in the shape of hearts as he watched you perform.

he couldn't wait to go home. he just knew what he’d do to you as soon as you step foot into your house.

—

“haa~ cheol!” if he had asked you to count how many times you’ve come tonight, you wouldn’t be able to answer him. your cum had made a creamy white ring around his cock, slowly growing thicker and thicker as his thrusts began to pick up rhythm faster than the one before.

your voice began to strain, sweat started to trickle down the back of your neck, your hips were burning red as seungcheol showed no mercy at all. it was as if his dick had a mind of its own. his tip kisses your g-spot, making you arch from the bed as cheol’s hand pushed you down.

“you were so fucking pretty out there. did you know that? i was worried the boys would be a fucking idiot around you— fuck.” he threw his head back in a moan. “but it turns out, i was the one going insane.”

his lips traveled to your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses beside the bruises he had made earlier. his thumb rubbed your clit, causing you to whine controllably as your gripped onto his shoulders. “pleaaase, let me cum!”

“yeah? my baby wants to cum?” seungcheol rapidly thrusted into you—if that was even possible—even more, making you slip out incoherent words as your eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“yes! yes! yes! please let me cum please!” your nails clawed his back, leaving dark red marks as he winces in pain.

“fuck, cum with me okay?” you nodded in agreement, not caring about the neighbours who were probably wide awake, or the open windows that seungcheol didn’t bother to shut, or your cheerleading outfit that you definitely needed the following day.

“you can cum, beautiful.” he painted your walls with white ribbons as you breathed heavily—cumming right after him. you came so hard that you saw stars. as soon as you finally caught your breath, seungcheol was already rubbing you with a warm cloth, cleaning up his mess.

“you’re so responsible, you know?”

“mhm, i am. just not when you’re at cheerleading practice.” you giggle.

“you should come more often.”

[eclipixels]

Payback

Sylus x reader

Content: You don't like Sylus allowing other girls to flirt with him, so you take matters into your own hands to get back at him

A/N: pt.1 pt.2

[2,911 words]

      You sat with Sylus at the bar, your head resting against his shoulder, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the air around you. The two of you had arrived earlier than most, and now, as you watched the slow trickle of people filtering in, you couldn’t help but think that maybe Sylus had been right, you should have waited a little longer before coming.

      With a soft sigh, you sat up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I’m gonna go use the bathroom, okay?" you murmured, your fingers lightly squeezing his arm before you slipped away toward the restroom.

      The momentary break was meant to be nothing, just a quick trip before returning to his side. But when you emerged, your heart nearly stopped.

      A woman stood dangerously close to him, tilting her head in that familiar, flirtatious way as she batted her lashes. The dim lighting of the bar only made the moment more intimate, more insufferable. Then, as if to twist the knife deeper, she leaned in, her lips close to his ear as she whispered something you weren’t meant to hear, something that sent a searing pang of jealousy straight through you.

      Did you really believe him when he told you that you were the only woman he wanted? That he never entertained temptation? That he never strayed, even when countless women threw themselves at him?

      You wanted to believe him. You truly did. But watching this unfold, watching him stand there and allow her to linger, to bask in his presence without a single sign of dismissal—it gnawed at you. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t flirting back or even paying her much attention. The fact that he didn’t push her away, that he allowed these moments to exist at all, was what truly got under your skin.

      And who could blame her for being drawn to him? Sylus looked effortlessly breathtaking in his tailored black Versace suit, the sleek fabric clinging to him in all the right ways. He exuded confidence, mystery, an untouchable charm that made heads turn the moment he stepped into a room. If you were in her position, wouldn’t you want a man like him to look at you the way you wished he only looked at you?

      But why? Why couldn’t he make it clear that he was unavailable, that there was no room for anyone else in his orbit? The questions burned in your mind, threatening to spill over into words you weren’t sure you were ready to say aloud.

      Because no matter how much you trusted him, doubt had a way of creeping in like a shadow in the night. And right now, standing there, watching her linger in his space… that shadow felt all-consuming.

      "You okay?" a voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you turned to find yourself looking at some guy. Tall, effortlessly good-looking, with a broody, mysterious air that made him stand out.

      "I'm completely awesome. Just having the time of my life," you replied with a smirk, the sarcasm practically dripping from your words. "I mean, you agree, right? I am awesome. You know what? Don't even answer that."

      He gave you a small smile, the kind that was just barely there but still managed to be annoyingly charming. "As much as I’ve heard about you, you're more than just awesome."

      Your drunken mind barely registered the comment or who exactly had been talking about you. But if he had heard things, well, hopefully, they were good things. He had this whole mysterious, darkly intriguing vibe, and if you weren’t so hopelessly in love with Sylus, maybe—just maybe—something could have happened.

      "Do you wanna dance?" you asked impulsively, tilting your head at him.

      His eyes widened slightly, as if the question had caught him off guard. "I don't think that would be appropriate," he said, his voice polite yet firm.

      Seriously, what was it with men not wanting to dance with you today? You were an amazing dancer.

      "And why exactly wouldn't it be appropriate?" you teased, grabbing his arm before he could protest and pulling him toward the dance floor. Not that you were trying to make Sylus jealous or anything. But, you know, if it happened organically, you wouldn’t be opposed.

      "Just relax. It's just a dance," you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him a little closer. You giggled as he let out a small breath, clearly debating whether to just go with it or keep resisting.

      Then, as if the universe had a twisted sense of humor, the music shifted into something slow and romantic, one of those songs you'd never heard before but could already tell was meant for lovers lost in each other’s arms.

      Perfect. Just perfect.

      You didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see if that woman was still talking to Sylus.

      "You know," your dance partner said after a moment, "I learned how to waltz once. It’s been a few years, though."

      You chuckled, tilting your head at him. "Oh yeah? Think you still got it?"

      He smirked slightly. "Guess we’re about to find out."

      For a fleeting second, you felt Sylus’s gaze burning into you from across the room. You could almost hear the unspoken words in his stare. But you ignored it. To hell with him.

      The two of you danced so flawlessly, so effortlessly, that the energy in the room shifted. People took notice. Whispers spread, eyes turned. But you didn’t care. For the first time tonight, you were simply having fun.

      Then, with a fluid motion, he twirled you around, sending a rush of exhilaration through your veins before pulling you back into his arms. And finally, the grand finish—a dip, deep and dramatic. The moment lingered as you locked eyes with him, your breath slightly ragged from the movement.

      A slow smile spread across your face as you straightened up. “I’ve always wanted to do that,” you admitted, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

      "I'm glad I could make that happen," he replied, his own smile warm and genuine.

      Before you could say anything else, the sound of clapping caught your attention. You turned to see Wanda and Tara grinning at you, their faces full of approval and amusement.

      “You were amazing!” Tara cheered, her excitement practically radiating off her.

      Your dance partner chuckled, then took a small step back. “You should go join your friends,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Besides, I wouldn’t want any trouble for you.”

      And just like that, he turned to leave.

      A frown crept onto your face. His words confused you. What kind of trouble? He was fun to be around, easy to talk to. You had a feeling that if nothing else, the two of you could have been good friends. But he was gone before you could ask.

      The thrill of dancing, the lightness of the moment—it all started to fade as the weight of reality crashed back down. For a little while, the music, the movement, the laughter had made you forget. Forget about Sylus. Forget about the ache in your chest.

      But now? Now, it all came rushing back.

      You forced a smile as you said goodnight to Tara and your other hunter friends. They wanted you to stay, to shake off the sadness, but you were drained. Completely and utterly exhausted.

      All you wanted was to be alone. To cry in peace.

      And you didn’t care how you got home.

      Stepping outside, the cool night air did little to soothe the fire burning inside you. But as if the universe hadn’t tormented you enough tonight, there he was—Sylus, leaning against his motorcycle, waiting.

      The last person you wanted to see right now.

      At least he wasn’t with her.

      "What are you doing here?" you asked, voice sharper than intended.

      At the sound of your voice, he turned his head, his expression unreadable—until his eyes met yours. Then, just like that, his gaze hardened.

      "The real question is, what the hell were you doing in there? With that guy?" His tone was sharp, laced with something that almost sounded like jealousy.

      God. The sheer audacity.

      You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "It's called dancing, Sylus. You know, that thing people do when they're having fun?" You crossed your arms, eyes narrowing. "And honestly? The hypocrisy is commendable. Really."

      His brows furrowed. "The hypocrisy? What’s gotten into you, Y/N?"

      Maybe it was the drinks. Maybe it was the adrenaline crashing. Maybe it was the way your heart still ached from watching him with her. But something inside you cracked.

      "You know what? You’re right. I knew what I was getting into with you," you admitted, voice shaking, "but I can’t do it anymore."

      His expression faltered for the first time, but you didn’t let him speak.

      "Is this even a relationship to you, Sylus? Or am I just someone you’re fooling around with until you get bored?" The words came out harsher than you expected, but you didn’t care.

      For a moment, silence hung between you like a storm waiting to break.

      Then, something in his face changed. The sharpness faded, replaced with something else, something you couldn’t quite place.

      Hurt?

      "Is that what you really think of me?" he asked, voice quieter now, almost disbelieving. "Of us?"

      You swallowed hard, but he didn’t stop.

      "Is that what you think I’m doing?" He took a step forward, his usual cocky demeanor nowhere to be seen. "Just stringing you along until I get bored?"

      The way he said it made your chest tighten, but you wouldn’t let him turn this around on you.

      You stepped back, refusing to let your resolve waver.

      "That’s how you made me feel today, Sylus," you snapped, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you had held in. "You made me feel used. You made me feel small—like I was nothing compared to her. Like she mattered to you, and I didn’t."

      Your lips quivered as you tried to hold back the lump forming in your throat, but the words wouldn’t stop now.

      "You can’t let the most gorgeous woman in the room flirt with you, throw it in my face, and then expect me to just stand there and not care," you choked out, barely recognizing your own voice—raw, broken, angry.

      Sylus exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t trying to hurt you. You knew that. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. And maybe he hadn’t been ready for this confrontation, but neither were you—you hadn’t asked for this heartbreak.

      "She means nothing to me, Y/N," he said, his voice quieter now. "And she wasn’t the most gorgeous woman in the room."

      You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah? That’s funny, considering how easily you let her hang all over you."

      His jaw tightened. "Don’t use that tone with me, Y/N."

      And that—that—set you off completely.

      "Fuck off, Sylus," you spat, stepping back, fire burning behind your eyes. "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to act jealous then get mad when I get the same way."

      As soon as the words left your mouth, Sylus closed the distance between you in an instant, crashing his lips against yours in a kiss that was rough, desperate, and possessive. He had heard enough. He couldn’t lose you like this. He wouldn’t let it happen.

      You wanted to fight back, wanted to push him away, wanted to scream at him for how much he had hurt you tonight—but you didn’t. Instead, you gave in. You kissed him back with just as much fire, all the jealousy, anger, and pain pouring into the way your lips moved against his. You wanted to rip his hair out, but at the same time, you wanted to fuck him senseless.

      His hands gripped your waist as he lifted you effortlessly, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around him. He walked forward until your back hit the wall, trapping you between the cool surface and the warmth of his body. A sharp gasp left your lips as he tangled his fingers in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back, exposing your neck to him. His mouth was on you in an instant, lips and teeth marking you, sucking deep enough to leave bruises. His marks.

      He wasn’t the only jealous one tonight.

      Watching you dance, hearing you laugh so freely with that guy—it had made something primal snap inside him. He wanted to be the one spinning you around, holding you in his arms, making you smile like that. He wanted to be the man who made you happy.

      His hands slid under your dress, gripping your ass roughly as he pressed his hips forward, grinding against you. You gasped at the friction, a moan slipping from your lips as you felt how hard he was through his jeans. You wrapped your legs around him tighter, rolling your hips against his, desperate for something to ease the ache between your legs. You were frustrated, upset, and so fucking turned on all at once.

      Then, before you could stop it, a single tear slipped down your cheek.

      Sylus stilled.

      He heard the soft, broken sob escape your lips, and his chest tightened. His hands, which had been gripping you so possessively just moments ago, suddenly softened their hold. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as his breathing evened out.

      His thumb brushed the tear from your cheek before he pressed a tender kiss there, his lips lingering. And then, slowly, he set you back down onto your feet.

      The loss of contact made you shiver, but you weren’t ready for this moment to end—not like this.

      “I'm so absolutely sorry for how I made you feel tonight.”

      “I just wish you would push those women away, why don’t you do that?” Your lips quivered. His heart broke, how could he make you feel this way? He was mad at himself.

      “I didn’t think it mattered. I thought you already knew I loved you.” He admits, feeling stupid for not realizing sooner how much it hurt you.

      “Still, it hurts seeing them flirt with you and you do nothing.”

      “I am sincerely sorry my love, I promise, I won’t let it happen anymore.” He closes the distance between you two. He wraps his arms around you tightly "you're my weakness y/n, I never wanted to have one but then you came along.”

      “You’re mine, okay?” You say firmly.

      "I am yours. So beautiful you are, the prettiest. I love the dress princess" he kisses your forehead

      "Thank you love, I got it in your color" you smile.

      "I know but It would look better on the floor” He grins wickedly. Oh my god, you really are stuck with him now.

      “Don’t think I’m forgiving you that easily, though,” you said, your voice firm, your expression stern.

      Sylus paused, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, but he masked it quickly. “What do I have to do?”

      You took a step closer to him, a sly smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Beg.”

      His brows furrowed, and he blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What? You can’t be serious.”

      You leaned in, your gaze locking with his, a challenge in your eyes. “You heard me. On your knees. Beg me to forgive you.”

      His lips parted, but he didn’t immediately comply. “Y/n–”

      Before he could say anything else, you shoved him gently but firmly, guiding him to the ground. The sudden action had his breath hitching, but he quickly found his footing, settling on his knees in front of you. He looked up at you, his gaze filled with something between defiance and desperation.

      His thighs flexed as he kneaded his jaw, eyes narrowing in thought. Then, he finally spoke, his voice low and sincere. “Please forgive me, darling. I am so fucking sorry.”

      You raised an eyebrow, not satisfied with the apology.

      Sylus let out a soft groan, his hands resting on his thighs, looking up at you with a vulnerability that made your chest tighten. “I’m so, so sorry.” His voice dropped an octave, heavy with regret.

      And still, something in you wanted more.

      The sincerity in his eyes pulled at something deep inside you, but you weren’t ready to let him off that easy. "I want to hear you say it. I want to hear how much I mean to you. I want to know that you won't let this happen again."

      His breath hitched as his hands moved to the floor for support, his body leaning slightly toward you as if instinctively reaching for you, aching for you. “I won’t let it happen again, I swear to you. I won’t make the same mistake. Please, Y/n, forgive me. I can’t lose you. You mean everything to me.”

      You could see the desperation in his eyes now, the plea for you to believe him.

      "That’s better," you said, nodding slowly. "But words are just that. Show me."

      He lowered his gaze for a moment, then looked back up at you, his posture shifting as if he was preparing to give you all of him. And he did just that, all night long. You drained the life out of him, not stopping until you were satisfied.

[scoupsakakitty]

Could you do svt finding out reader has been skipping meals while they were away on tour? Like they come back from tour and notices how the s/o is looking?? Lmk if you’re uncomfortable with that

SVT reacting to s/o losing weight/skipping meals

tw: weight loss, skipping meals

S.Coups:

His heart drops the moment he sees you. You look smaller, weaker—your usual glow dimmed. He pulls you into a tight hug, resting his chin on your head. "Did you wait until I was gone to do this to yourself?" His voice is strained, a mix of frustration and worry. He pulls back to look into your eyes. "You think I wouldn’t notice? You’re already perfect. Stop trying to fit into something that will never love you back the way I do."

Jeonghan:

He eyes you up and down, his usual playful smirk nowhere to be seen. Instead, there’s a cold seriousness in his gaze. "Y/N, be honest with me." He crosses his arms. "Did you stop eating just so you could fit some beauty standard?" His voice is sharp, but his hands are gentle when he reaches for yours. "I know how bad this industry can get, but I won’t let you do this to yourself. Not while I’m here."

Joshua:

Joshua sighs, shaking his head as he cups your face. His thumbs brush against your cheekbones, now more defined than before. "This isn't healthy, Y/N." His voice is calm but filled with concern. "You don't have to do this to be beautiful. You already are. The people who make you feel like you aren't? They’re wrong." He pulls you into his arms. "Next time, talk to me, okay? You don’t have to do this alone."

Jun:

Jun doesn’t speak right away. Instead, he sets down his bag and slowly approaches you, his gaze scanning over you carefully. "Did someone tell you to do this?" His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it. When you don’t answer, he exhales sharply. "I get it. I really do. But hurting yourself like this… it won’t make you happy." He squeezes your hand. "Please, Y/N. Let’s eat together, okay?"

Hoshi:

Hoshi pouts dramatically at first, pinching your cheek. "Where did all your energy go, huh? You look so tired…" But then, his expression shifts, eyes darkening with worry. "You were waiting for me to leave, weren’t you?" He sighs, shaking his head. "I know what it’s like to be told you have to lose weight to be accepted. But you’re not an idol, Y/N. You don’t have to go through this." He takes your hands in his. "Even if you were… I’d still tell you the same thing: you don’t have to change for anyone."

Wonwoo:

Wonwoo is quiet. Too quiet. He studies you carefully, his sharp gaze missing nothing. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft but firm. "Y/N… why?" He exhales deeply, shaking his head. "I get it. I know why you’d feel this way. But I also know it won’t bring you the happiness you’re searching for." He pulls you into his embrace. "Let me take care of you. You don’t have to do this alone."

Woozi:

Woozi’s jaw clenches the moment he sees you. His hands curl into fists at his sides before he forces himself to relax. "You think I don’t know what it’s like?" His voice is bitter. "To be told you’re not enough unless you fit a mold that someone else decided for you?" He steps closer, his gaze locking onto yours. "I won’t let you go through this alone, Y/N. I know how hard it is to fight it, but you don’t have to fight alone."

DK:

DK’s smile falters the second he takes a good look at you. His usual warmth turns into concern. "Y/N… have you been eating properly?" He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it. When you look away, he gently lifts your chin. "Please don’t do this to yourself. I love you just the way you are." His voice cracks slightly. "I don’t want to see you hurting yourself over something so meaningless."

Mingyu:

Mingyu’s excitement from coming home quickly fades when he sees you. His hands instinctively reach out, brushing against your arms. "You… lost weight." His tone is careful, but his eyes are full of worry. "Did you stop eating while I was gone?" When you don’t answer, he exhales sharply. "Y/N, I love you, but I won’t pretend this is okay. You’re beautiful just the way you are. Please don’t hurt yourself like this."

The8:

His expression is unreadable, but his voice is laced with quiet disappointment. "You’re trying to fit into their beauty standards, aren’t you?" He sighs, shaking his head. "I won’t tell you that it’s easy to ignore them. But I will tell you that it’s not worth it." He gently cups your face. "You’re more than just the way you look, Y/N. Please don’t forget that."

Seungkwan:

Seungkwan is visibly upset, his usual bright energy completely gone. "Did you really wait until I was gone to do this?" His voice is uncharacteristically quiet. He swallows hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. "You think being skinnier will make you happier? That it’ll make you prettier?" He grips your hands. "You’re already the most beautiful person I know. Please don’t do this to yourself."

Vernon:

Vernon furrows his brows, staring at you for a long moment before finally speaking. "You think being thinner will make you fit in more?" He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "I get it. I really do. But I also know that it’s not worth losing yourself over." He steps closer, resting a hand on your shoulder. "You’re enough, Y/N. You always have been."

Dino:

Dino immediately frowns when he sees you, his expression unreadable. "You didn’t have to do this." His voice is filled with frustration, but not at you—at the world that made you feel like you had to change. "I know how hard it is to ignore the pressure. But I wish you had talked to me before doing this to yourself." He squeezes your hand. "I don’t care what anyone else says. You’re already perfect to me."

[apomaro-mellow]

Hawkins Confidential 8

Part 7

Steve ignored Dustin’s protests as he scented him in the car. He’d done so every morning this week now that his pup was back in school. It still felt like a dream come true that he got to see his son off, bookbag bouncing as he hopped, skipped, and stepped to his class. But that left him completely alone. He sighed, rubbed his face with his hands and then drove off to distract himself with random errands. Of course, the thoughts came to him anyway. As he went shopping, as he visited the club, even as he tried to drown his thoughts out with the chaotic sounds of a playground, they found him.

How he was in a loveless marriage, how his parents still ruled over him, even though one was dead. He was just like his parents, right down to his husband having a mistress. Steve got back home, hours wasted and it was barely two in the afternoon. Steve wandered to the kitchen. He got through two glasses before giving up and just taking the bottle up to his room. 

But there was one difference between his life and his mother’s. One aspect he nearly forgot about.

He nearly jolted off the bed and threatened to tip the bottle over when the phone rang. He groaned, not up to talking with anyone. But it continued to ring and that just frayed his nerves even more.

“Hello?”, he answered.

“Hey, so what should I bring to dinner tonight? Wine? A cheese plate? Some other rich person thing I can’t think of?”

Shit. Shit, the weekly dinner. Steve set the bottle down on the floor and tried to right himself. He sniffed, not realizing how close to tears he had been.

“Hey? Stevie, are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m just, yeah I…yeah”, Steve said, words feeling too heavy all of a sudden. He just wanted Eddie here. To hold him, scent him, comfort him the way he used to. And just like before, Eddie could tell there was a lot weighing on him even though he had hardly said anything.

“Are you home? I can be there in ten.”

“Eddie no, I..I couldn’t. You don’t need to-”

“I’m coming. You can turn me away once I’m there but I’m on my way.”

Eddie got there in nine minutes and Steve didn’t turn him away. He was almost petty enough to bring Eddie up to the bedroom. Let Tommy catch the scent of another alpha on their bedspread. But Steve wasn’t that bold yet. Not ready to fully confront it all. So he took Eddie up to one of the guest rooms instead. They fell into bed as easily as if nothing had changed. Steve scented him, rubbing their cheeks together, nuzzling his neck. Eddie let it all happen, silent until a rumble rolled through him.

“What are we doin’, baby?”, he asked, voice low.

“I know, I’m sorry”, Steve said, suddenly sitting up. “I just…needed you.”

“I get that. But why? What happened? Is something wrong with Dustin?”

“No”, Steve shook his head. “Dustin’s as healthy as ever. It’s…”

Eddie propped himself onto his elbows, gazing at Steve’s profile. “It’s Tommy”, he surmised correctly.

“Not just him. It’s Carol too.”

Eddie shot up at that. “No…”

Steve nodded, then got up from the bed to stare out the window. “It’s true.”

“I’ll fucking kill him. How could he-”

“Eddie, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine! Steve, you were about to fall into rejection sickness!”

Steve wrapped his arms around himself and refused to look at Eddie. That’s what he’d been feeling. Eddie must have smelled it on him the minute he arrived. And he still let Steve rub all over him.

“Do you love him?”, Eddie asked, his voice soft.

“No!”, Steve whipped around. “I don’t love him. He’s slime. He’s a parasite. He’s-ugh, fuck! I can’t believe I’m sick over him! Eddie, I swear I don’t love him. It’s just…I never wanted…this life”, he sighed, then fell back against the bed. “And it’s not just me anymore, it’s Dustin too. He’s growing up in this cold, loveless house just like I did. I should’ve run away with you.”

“It’s not loveless. He’s got you. And me now”, Eddie said, kneeling before Steve. “And I’m done looking back. I just wanna think about the future I have with you two. What’s it matter if Hagan’s shacking up with Carol anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter all that much. At least not on Tommy’s end.” Steve played with Eddie’s hair. “But Carol’s never in it just for the fun. She’s probably after his money.”

“Your money”, Eddie corrected. “She’s trying to push you out. Push our pup out.”

Steve bristled at that. Carol wasn’t any old floozy. Eddie was right, she was making a play for the Harrington fortune. She was a threat to him. A threat to his pup. But even so…

“I don’t know what to do, Eddie. Carol won’t back off just because I say I figured out their game.”

Eddie grinned and stood up, bringing Steve along with him. “You must have mellowed out from the way you used to be back in the day. I remember you dressing a guy down because he bumped into me and refused to apologize. I remember you making that cheerleader cry in less than ten words. I remember you making the mayor speechless! Sweetheart, you could end Carol’s life if you wanted to. The question is, do you want to?”

Steve nodded. “I wanna ruin her for good. But that’s not the only thing I want.” He swallowed as he met Eddie’s gaze, only to find the alpha looking just as intensely at him.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

Steve’s hands smoothed up Eddie’s chest and suddenly they were sixteen again, hiding away in a guest room while his parents were out for the night. Gone were the titles and roles that had been piled up on him in the past decade. He was just Eddie’s. And Eddie was his.

“I want you”, Steve whispered before capturing his lips.

Eddie melted into it, arms coming around Steve. He had missed this. Getting to kiss him and hold him, and have him. He moaned when Steve’s hand went into his hair. A move that was so familiar, it had him forgetting where he was. But they both heard the heavy front door open and close and broke apart from each other.

By the time Dustin came bounding up the stairs, Steve was able to greet him, door to the guest room closed behind him. Dustin smelled Eddie on him of course but came to the conclusion that he must be somewhere in the house - not that his two dads had just been making out. 

Steve went to keep Dustin occupied, giving Eddie a chance to escape the guest room and pretend he’d been in another part of the house. The three of them caught up in the living room while dinner was being prepared. When it was served, the only other newcomer was Bianca. Tommy would be working late again.

Bianca was only just barely civil to Eddie. It helped that she had a soft spot for her grandson. It also helped that Dustin was such a chatterbox that he dominated the conversation. It gave Steve time to think. About how to handle Carol, about what he wanted from Eddie. Because try as they might, things couldn’t just go back to how they were before. He had a child now. Any scandal involving him would hurt Dustin too. Dustin got Eddie to stay through dessert but after that, Eddie had to go.

“Come on! It’s basically the weekend! Can’t you stay the night?”

Every adult froze, including his mother who was on her way upstairs. Eddie recovered first, smiling as he bent over to get on Dustin’s level.

“Wish I could, bud. You and I can pull all-nighters when you’re at my place, deal?”

“Only if those all-nighters include movie marathons and junk food”, Dustin made him swear.

“I promise.”

“Go ahead upstairs and start getting ready for bed. And that includes brushing your teeth”, Steve said as he walked Eddie to the door. He closed the door and they were both alone in the quiet of the night. “Look, Eddie-”

“I already know what you’re gonna say. And I understand. It was the heat of the moment. You don’t wanna do this.”

“No! Shut up! I do!”, Steve hissed. “I mean, I do, just, not like this. Not when things are so complicated.”

Eddie stuck his hands into his pockets. “Haven’t they always been like that?”

Steve shook his head. “Not in the beginning. It only got messed up when my parents meddled and-” His brain suddenly decided to bring up a similar scene to this. It was night, Steve was on his front porch, telling Eddie to go away. He could blame his parents for that, but Steve was responsible too. “I meant that. I want you Eddie, I do. That hasn’t changed. But can’t I have some time? To think about how it’s gonna be? To deal with Carol and Tommy?”

Eddie took out a cigarette and lit it as Steve spoke. He didn’t reply until he’d taken a drag and breathed it out. “I’ve waited ten years. I can wait a little longer. You’ll call if you need me, right?”

Steve’s shoulders sagged in relief. “There’s no one else I’d rather call.”

Part 9 coming soon

[lesmiix]

Hiii, Can I request a Hyun-juu x smoking reader? But only when he has anxiety and she encourages him/she to quit? THANK YOU :33

ONE SHOT: Smoker

Hyun-ju x g/n reader.

Summary: You usually smoke when you get anxious, so Hyun-ju tries to make you quit.

Warnings: Smoke, slight smut mention

a/n: Omg I loved this request SO MUCH 😭

Hope you like it!!!🫶

💗HYUN-JU REQUESTS ARE OPEN💗

You haven't smoked for a while now. You tried to quit, you don't smoke as much as you used to, but there were times when you couldn't resist, especially when you were anxious. Still, you made great progress.

One of your friends, Hyun-ju, knew about it and she was always really supportive.

She was always so sweet with you, she treats you better than anyone else ever had. You appreciated it a lot.

Every time you relapsed, she was there to calm you down and help you cope. She didn't mind having to wake up at 2 in the morning to go to your house to keep you company, because sometimes you felt very lonely and that distressed you, making you want to smoke again.

She recently bought you a fidget toy, so you could keep your hands and mind busy, releasing the stress and anxiety.

And it actually worked! You were much calmer now, you stopped thinking so much about smoking and you felt more relaxed, more free, sober.

Those little details made you start feeling different about her. Anytime you saw her your heart started to beat faster, when you spoke to her you used to stutter a little and you could notice how red your face gets.

You really hoped she didn't notice all of those things, but in fact, she did.

She knew you too well. And the worst of all is that she loved to take advantage of it; She usually teased you with dirty jokes, which made things way worse for you, but you always tried to hide your nervousness with a laugh.

"Hyunnie, do I look good?"

"You'd look better underneath me."

You have been these past few days kinda anxious, since you had to prepare a presentation for work. It was getting dark and you were outside the building where Hyun-ju worked.You wanted to spend some time with her to clear your mind. But the minutes dragged on forever and you couldn't hold back the urge. So you pulled out the box of cigarettes from your bag. Lighting one and putting it in your mouth.

A few minutes passed by and you saw the door get open. It was Hyun-ju. She approached you with a smile.

You both walked to your car, getting inside, but not before throwing the cigarette on the ground.

"I thought you quit smoking?" She joked.

"This presentation is going to kill me." You answered. You didn't get an answer though, just a soft "mhm".

You looked at her, just to see her staring at you with... desire? No, no, it couldn't be. She was probably just tired from work.

"Is it okay if I stay at your place tonight?" You asked, trying to break the awkward silence.

"Just if you promise to quit this addiction of yours." She firmly said.

You stared at her. Eyes traveling from her eyes to her lips involuntarily.

"Is not that easy, Cho." You muttered, returning your look to your lap.

Silence.

Your hands started sweating a little, afraid of her getting tired of helping you.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your thigh, softly caressing and squeezing it.

You looked at her, face red as a tomato.

"Shit..." You thought. Her face was 2 inches away from yours.

She slowly leaned in, her lips caressing yours, nearly touching them. She was looking for consent.

You looked at her, eyes full with lust. You close the small distance between you both.

The kiss was slow, soft and full of love... At first.

It became hungry, passionate and desperate. You felt like you couldn't breathe.

Her strong arms grabbed your hips, pulling you towards her, with little effort, placing you on her lap.

Every place where she touched you felt like it burnt, The butterflies in your stomach growing more and more intense. The clothes began to disappear little by little, replacing them with marks and hickeys.

You softly pulled apart to talk.

"I am not responsible if this becomes another addiction."

Definitely the best night of your life.

a/n: STOP I LOVE THIS 😭

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

MAKE ME WRITE ASK

@inell I accidentally copied the wrong answer into your 1k for 🔼 - SORRY! Here is a panicked 900 words instead.

---

“I have to go actually. Um, if you could… I mean, this doesn’t need to go beyond us, right?” 

“Maddie, you’re putting me in a really weird position,” Shannon says.

“Okay, uh…” There’s genuine panic in Maddie’s voice. “I’ll talk to you later, Shannon.” 

The call ends. 

“What the hell?” Shannon whispers at her phone. 

▶️

After their shift, Eddie heads home. Buck heads to Maddie and Chim’s. 

To tell the truth, Eddie is nervous about it. He doesn’t know if he sees the point of Buck enduring a second dinner with those people. If Buck’s account is accurate, they didn’t even give him a chance. They treated Jane like she was something shameful. Which, honestly? Eddie doesn’t give a single fuck about what Buck’s parents - strangers to him and to Buck - think about his daughter. But he cares that, if Buck actually did have a baby of his own, that’s how they’d treat their own grandchild. That’s pretty fucked up. 

Overall, Eddie’s just worried. He doesn’t think Buck needs this, and he’s protective. That’s all. 

He picks Chris up from school on his way back to the house. Chris is fascinated by Eddie’s story of the guy who wanted to blow up an office building today. Kind of a crazy thing to find entertaining, but Eddie supposes it’s his fault for telling him. 

When they walk through the front door, Shannon is waiting for him. She looks stressed. Eddie wonders if the application process didn’t go well. She says hi to Chris, then he goes off to unpack his bag. Once he’s gone, she looks to Eddie.

“Buck went to dinner?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Not sure why, but he did.”

“Damn,” Shannon whispers. 

“What? Why?” Eddie asks. 

“Maddie called me earlier,” Shannon says. “Uh, I don’t really know what’s going on, but… But I have some concerns.”

🔼

Dinner, take two, is actually worse. Maybe all the fuss about Jane had been a good shield. 

Buck is already frustrated. He’s already been assured, by Shannon and Eddie, that the way they treated him wasn’t fair. That he deserves better. That he doesn’t owe anyone anything, if he can’t be treated with basic decency. The point is, he’s already sort of worked up by the time his father says something fucking stupid. 

“It still seems risky. I mean, from what I hear, Evan has spent quite a lot of time in hospitals,” Phillip says, about their jobs. 

And yeah, okay. It is a risky job. But it’s also the thing that makes Buck feel like he matters. Like he does something good. And they’ve never expressed any concerns before…

“From what you hear?” Buck echoes. 

Everyone looks at him. Maddie sighs, like she knows dinner is ruined now. Like Buck has spoiled everything. 

“‘Cause you could have come,” he adds. “Seen for yourself.”

But they don’t care. They do not care at all. 

His mother takes offense to this suggestion, though. Like it’s a personal attack on her. 

“Evan, I’ve told you-”

“You, uh, you’re not good with hospitals,” he finishes for her. “I got it.”

“I’m not good at seeing my children in them.” She rebuts, eyes watering. “You don’t know.”

Uh, no? He doesn’t? Because she never comes? 

“Mom, mom,” Maddie shakes her head. 

Buck looks between them. Some sort of understanding occurs in their look. Something that leaves Buck on the outside. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t trust it. And more importantly, it’s not what he and Maddie agreed on. 

“I’m fine,” Margaret says, taking a shaky breath. “I’m ready for dessert.”

Buck’s jaw tenses. He’s suspicious. 

“Oh, Howard,” Phillip interjects. “Where’d you put that box we brought?”

“Dad, more gifts?” Maddie bemoans. 

“Not exactly,” Phillip assures her. 

“It’s over by the couch,” Chim says, hopping out of his chair. “Let me grab it.”

He hurries out of the kitchen to fetch whatever Buck’s parents brought. 

“I like him, Maddie,” Margaret says once Chim is out of earshot. 

“Me too,” Maddie smiles. 

“You picked a good one this time,” their mother continues. 

“Mom,” Buck glares at her. 

“It was a compliment, Evan. Maybe if you bothered to introduce us to the woman you’re seeing, we’d compliment her, too.”

Yeah. Not going to happen.

“Oh, I’m good,” Buck says.

“Ugh,” she sighs, exasperated.

Chim returns with a beautiful, handcrafted wooden box and sets it down on the dinner table. Maddie’s name is carved on the lid.

“Your baby box,” their mother explains. 

Wow. That’s sort of sweet actually. 

“I thought you might wanna pass on some of these things to your little girl someday,” she continues as Maddie opens the box. 

“Aw,” Chim beams. 

Buck moves to look at the contents. All the little mementos of Maddie’s infancy and childhood. As though she had kind and attentive parents. 

“Oh, this is so cool,” Buck says, pleasantly surprised.  “I didn’t know you made these for us.”

He wonders if Shannon and Eddie - or, Shannon, he supposes - did this for Chris. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything like it for Jane.

“When do I get mine?” Buck asks.

His parents look at each other. They look nervous. Uncomfortable. Neither of them answers. 

Oh.

They only did this for Maddie. 

“Hey, you’re not even a grown up yet,” Chim teases, clapping him on the back. “They’re probably still adding stuff to it.”

But they’re not. Buck knows they’re not. 

[luckypunklemonade]

2/14

“Second guess these words of mine, I always thought that I’d be fine with you. But ever since we crossed that line…”

[Implied smut MDNI 18+; friends to lovers; mutual first time; 2k words] You made a decision with your best friend, Stiles Stilinski, that it was logical to be each other's first time. After all, you trusted each other, and, well, it made you both safer.

an: I love this concept, but I wanted to get this out today, so It's sort of rushed, sorry :( Happy Valentine's Day :)

This work belongs to me, luckypunklemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

It started just so we could both get out of the victim pool. Another supernatural event killing off virgins. Shocker. So, naturally, I proposed the idea to Stiles. One of my closest friends who also happened to be a virgin. I trusted him, had known him for years, and knew he’d also hopefully see the logic in it. It’s not like he could make fun of me. I’ve seen him say and do much more embarrassing things. I won most debates because of that. It was starting to become a problem now that it had happened, though.

“Do you remember what this hieroglyphic is?”

Studying a new round of killings in Beacon Hills, the category was Egyptian, and the suspect was a Sphinx demon. Having had a bit of a fixation as a child, I could be of help. 

“What does it look like?” 

“A bird–a stork.” 

I leaned over his shoulder to look at the computer, my hand pulling his shoulder back toward me so I could get a better look. I got the answer out, “Amenophus,” but his cologne cut me off after that. The scent only reminded me of him in my bed, softly and awkwardly humming to try and make it less awkward as he tried to figure out how to take my bra off. He was sort of hugging me, his head next to mine as he peered over my shoulder at his own hands, fiddling with the clasp. He laughed, “I can’t figure this shit out. I don’t know how this is allowed. It’s like a Chinese finger trap.”

I laughed into his shoulder, glad he could tell I was nervous and that he wasn’t making it a big deal. “It’s nothing like that. Here, I can–”

My heart seemed to drop with the weight of anxiety as I felt him finally succeed. He noticed, holding the bra together between my shoulder blades. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just nervous.”

“Hey, me too.” I scoffed. He was more likely excited or just wanting this to be over. Stiles tilted his head and brought it back to look at me. “I’m serious. You couldn’t feel my hand shaking? Why do you think I had so much trouble undoing this freaking restraint?”

“Oh, so you’re otherwise an expert?”

“I can figure out a Rubix cube, puzzle boxes, secret Celtic runes; I think I can figure out how to take off a bra.” “You saw it in porn.” Stiles leaned his forehead onto your shoulder, an embarrassed frown audible in his answer, “Yup.”

Now, all I could notice were things that made me think about him above me in my bed. The way he sat down on Scott’s couch, getting comfortable by pushing his hips up to settle back down into the seat. I realized just how determined he was in his endeavor with me when I noticed his ‘focused’ face the other day and matched it to the one he was making as he stared down at me. He would scratch his forearm, and I’d think of him sliding it beneath me to help me get comfortable, and then his voice as we talked each other through the nerves.

We’ve been close for forever, but I never realized how often I touch him mindlessly until it felt like static every time I did it. My hand twitched as it rested on his back, for the first time, wanting to ease up to the back of his head and play with his hair. A lot of things were the same, and it just felt like I was the problem. I felt like I was reading too far into my own emotions. Of course, I’d be a little frazzled and attached to my first time, but I had to remind myself I see him every day. He’s one of my best friends. This confusion will blow over.

Valentine’s Day was coming up. He should get you something, right? I mean, yeah, you guys aren’t dating, but you were each other’s first time. You were best friends. Does this qualify as friends with benefits? He wished he had asked before things settled back into normalcy–when he woke up with your head on his chest. It’s the week of. He could use a conversation with you about this. Friends for seven years, he knew Valentine’s Day was your second favorite holiday behind Halloween. Not because you’d ever had a valentine, but because you loved the definition you gave it. You did that to everything. Even if there was a preconceived understanding, you defined everything. He might’ve been the only one to notice.  He loved your version of Valentine’s Day. You dress up, you curl your hair, do your makeup.

You take the morning to get yourself coffee, listen to music, and be with yourself. You always came back with donuts for your friends because the day was about love in every aspect. 

He needed to do something. Love in every aspect, right? Even in the weird, unsure, sort-of-still-stuck-on-you-when-he-shouldn’t-be way? He was a little late to be planning too much. You weren’t really a candy or chocolates girl; seven years of friendship, and you only had a select few stuffed animals; you liked to read, but the only thing he knew about the romance genre was that you didn’t read it often because it was getting more and more difficult to execute correctly. So, you stuck to the books you both needed to blow dust from, certain classics, banned books, and miscellaneous genres on your “To Be Read” list.  Whatever he did, he was going to try and be cool about it.

He spent the day before Valentine’s Day in his kitchen practicing. The sheriff came home to his son washing a sink full of dishes and trying to force-feed him his dish. When his critique was satisfactory, Stiles let his dad go to bed and kept washing dishes. He set his alarm a little earlier than usual and went to bed, reassuring himself that he should show you he was thankful. You kind of made sure he wasn’t brutally sacrificed and, of course, that he got laid. And he did learn a few things about sex. Everything real so far, actually. Now that he thought about it, everything he knew was applicable to you. It wasn’t just girls in general who liked it when he made sure their hair was out of their face, it was you, and he did it because he knew you didn’t like your hair in your face. He was going to have trouble associating sex with anyone else for a while, at least. Or thinking about much else around you. 

Of course, you took a late start form school, which left Stiles to think about you and what he should do for you more. When you showed up, he was in the hallway talking to Scott, walking down the stairs. He stopped talking, not at all helping Scott’s already unbearably correct assumption that you and him slept together. He stared at you as you glowed your way through the hallway. He stared at your red lipstick and the ribbon tying your hair out of your face, a job he wanted to do instead at that moment. How satisfying would it be if he walked down that hall and slung his arm around you? How good would it make him feel to walk around that day with a red kiss print on his cheek? On his neck. All over his goddamn face if you felt like it. 

You saw him and grinned, holding up a bag of donut holes. He nodded, swallowing the urge to call you “honey” down. Partly because that was weird and partly because “Sunshine” fit you better at that moment. Before you reached him and Scott, you handed out the respective treats to Lydia and Allison, checking in on them once again after the latest test to the pack’s mental health. By the time you turned back to them, he was already following Scott to meet you. 

His hands kept waking me up. On the sides of my arms, on my hips, my shoulders. I kept sitting up in bed and missing the feeling by milliseconds. It wasn’t ceremonious by any means, but it meant a lot to me. Not just because he did it, but because of how he did it. He made sure it felt right. He didn’t lose me in awkward silence, he encouraged me to speak up. After a while, I did the same. It was awkward, but I knew it would be. We just laughed it off. His fingers didn’t go through my hair smoothly at first, but he took the time to brush them out. I didn’t quite know how to lie down for him, but he had made me comfortable enough so that I felt okay asking. “Here,” he said as his hands guided my shoulders down, cradling my head before it hit the pillows. I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn’t ask for it. I wanted to pull him down by the back of his neck and feel him kiss my head deeper into the pillows. His hands would wander further and get distracted, and he’d let go and forget why we were doing it. We were holding hands. He was mumbling questions for me as he lined himself up. Why shouldn’t I know what he tastes like? 

You’re wearing the smile you always have when you do something nice. A little flustered as you hand people gifts or compliment them. The smile that kept distracting him when you walked up the bleachers with his number painted on your cheek. It was only the second game he was starting in, but he had your full support, even in the freezing weather. Lacrosse season is in winter, which is also sick season. You got sick this year, of course, and you showed up to two games with a cold. He met you after the game, trying not to cough on any proud parents. He was sweating, and you were shivering. With a congested cough, you gave him a thumbs up, and he sent you home to get some rest.

Now, you had a content look on your face, sort of like how you looked when you slept, watching your friends dig into your gifts. Stiles started walking, tapping your shoulder and nodding his head toward an empty classroom. You followed, not without hearing your friends giggle. When you both got away into the classroom, he turned quickly.

“Come to my house tonight. I don’t know if it’d be weird, but I sort of have this whole thing planned. If you think it’s weird, you don’t have to come, I just wanted to find a way to- to thank you, but if today wasn’t the right move–” “You planned something?” “I know just because we had sex doesn’t mean we’re dating. I know we didn’t do it because of that, but I keep getting this feeling like I…”

He stared at you, not worried about ruining the friendship, but terrified you didn’t feel how he felt. “I feel like I want us to be dating after. I know it’s probably because it was my first time and I feel attached or whatever.”

“You feel that, too? I thought it was just– well, yeah.”

“You–” He watched you nervously stare at the ground. 

“You know we never kissed? You were my first time and we never kissed.”

“I wanted to. I really, really wanted to. I didn’t think you’d want that.”

“Me neither.”

Stiles leaned in and you knew. He kissed you gently, just pressing his lips against yours before you pulled away, eyes widening. “Oh, shit.” You wiped his mouth off with your sleeve, your red lipstick nearly staining his chin. You made sure to wipe as much as you could off without smudging it. Stiles flinched away and stopped you, “I want it.”

“I got it all. You can’t walk around like that. Am I good?”

He checked for smudging and softly wiped the side of your lip, “You’re great. I can walk around like that and proudly, too. Watch.”

You stopped him before he could kiss you again, laughing away the flush in your cheeks. He saw it regardless. “Uhm…Here. This’ll be more managable.” 

You brought his hand up to your lips and kissed it, leaving your red kiss print on the back of his hand. Stiles admired it for a good thirty seconds before beaming up at you. When you promised to kiss him the right way at his house that night, he finally nodded and followed you back out into the hallway. 

I opened the door and took my shoes off, hearing a small sound of panic from within the house. Stiles had heard me come in, running around the kitchen on a mission. Sitting where he told me, I was faced with two generic three-wick candles. He doesn’t exactly own a candelabra, I smiled to myself. Stiles had the food plated, he was just cleaning the area before bringing it out. I stood up to help, laughing when he whipped around and ordered me to stop, but continued into the kitchen. I didn’t stop laughing as I slipped past him to grab a few miscellaneous things off of the counter or when he took them out of my hands and backed me against the counter. “Stay there,” He said as he turned to put more utensils in the sink. He turned back to hold my shoulders because I was moving again. I smiled and caught him off guard, pressing my lips to his. 

Admittedly, I should have been more considerate and wiped my lipstick off, but I liked the idea of how he’d look. His hands went slack on my shoulders, dropping to my waist. My nerves surged when I felt him hum into my lips. My heart rushed when he took the chance to deepen the kiss, the enthusiasm he put into it pushing my head back into his hand. I mirrored his movements as I slid my hand up to his shoulders. His face was tight with eagerness when I pulled away. He swallowed, lips pressing together. I then noticed my lipstick smudged across his mouth. It strayed above his lips in a hazy pink. I could only imagine what I looked like. I held in a laugh, which he met until we couldn’t. My laugh lasted longer while he focused on the red smeared on my chin. He pulled out his phone, holding it up to his face to take a picture. 

“C’mere,” He mumbled, pressing his cheek to yours and snapping a picture of your mouths both messy with your lipstick. You hid your face until he led you to your seat again, taking away your napkin so you knew he wanted to sit together and eat with both of your mouths covered in smudged lipstick.

[pandalandalopalis]

Devil May Cry Wolf - Matt Murdock x Mutant Reader [Chapter Seventeen]

Masterlist Previous Chapter

Story Synopsis: The first time you jumped, it was 2014 and you were nine years old. You were in the back of your parents’ car — then you were in New York, standing on the street … and it was 1992.

The second time you jumped, it was 1998 and you were fifteen years old. You were heading back home to Saint Agnes after school had ended — and then you were knee-deep in snow, in Russia, in 1970. Outside a Red Room facility.

The third time you jumped, you were twenty-five and had spent ten years training as a Red Room agent. Ten years training your body to use your mutation. Jumping in space was easy — jumping in time was not. But you did it. After ten years, you did it. Now you have to live with the trauma.

Five years later, killing is still the only thing you know how to do, and the only thing you do best. In 2016, a vigilante named Daredevil stops you from killing a man who attacked you. He tells you that you can do better. You think maybe he’s right. But in 2017, Matt Murdock is in the darkest place in his life. When you show up to save him, he’s not exactly grateful. And when he finds out that you’re the best friend he grew up with in Saint Agnes that disappeared almost 20 years ago — things get even more complicated.

You’ll have to drag Matt out of the dark while being jaw-deep in it yourself. And you’ll have to try your best to do better — when Matt is trying his best to do worse.

Chapter Synopsis: You help Matt through his panic attack. You get answers about who sent Russo to kill you.

Part 2 - Chapter Seventeen: In the Crook of Your Shoulder, the Horror Cannot Reach Me A/N: WE ARE SO BACK BABY Turns out I have no idea how to write normal-length chapters anymore. This chapter is over 9k words. Enjoy :) And Happy Valentine's Day!!!

When the sun finally came up that morning, you decided that sleep was for the best. Matt was injured and needed the rest and God knows you had a traumatic time of it last night.

So you took Matt back to his apartment and put him to sleep in his bed. Then you laid on Matt’s couch, pulled his blanket to your chin, inhaled his smell, and slept better than you had in weeks.

It was the afternoon when you got back to Avengers Tower. You prepared yourself to speak to Steve, but were surprised to see Natasha on the couch in the living room instead. She stood when she saw you enter.

“Hey,” she greeted. There was worry clear on her face. “Steve mentioned something about your friend being hurt? Is he—?”

“He’s okay,” you said. You weighed how much to say. It always felt strange getting close to Natasha — you figured if anyone could see through your lies, it would be her. Her who knew the Red Room just as you did. Her who was taught how to lie just as you were. And yet, with the memory of last night still clear in your mind, you could not stop the words from leaving your mouth, “It was pretty bad, though. He had a collapsed lung. He. . .” The memory of it stole your breath for a moment — Foggy calling you; believing Matt could die with those horrible words being the last thing you said to him; showing up in Matt’s apartment with him gasping for air and Foggy telling you to do something— “. . .He wasn’t breathing.” 

You closed your eyes, your breath coming out in shallow gasps, just trying to remember that Matt’s alive Matt’s okay Matt’s alive Matt’s okay

Those horrible words were not the last thing you said to him.

And then something unexpected happened.

Natasha hugged you.

You opened your eyes as you felt her arms around you. Trying to comfort you. Knowing what you knew about both your pasts . . . it felt odd. 

“I’m sorry about your friend,” she said.

Briefly, memories of the other girls in the Red Room flashed behind your eyes. And killing. Enemies. Each other.

If you had gone to the Red Room in your present (your present with Matt, that is, in 1998, not the present you grew up in, in 2014 — fucking time travel for the love of fucking God—), instead of 1970, if you had been in the Red Room with Natasha . . . Would you have been friends? Rivals? Would you have killed her in the tundra like you killed Nina? Would she have killed you? Or would you have told her about Matt . . . Would she have comforted you like this after the worst of it . . . after the red room. . .

You felt a connection to her like you hadn’t let yourself feel before. And so you let her hug you, let her rub your back, even wrapped your arms around her, and for a moment . . . you even pretended like she knew everything. 

Widow to widow.

But the moment ended when Steve entered the room. The steel trap separating your two lives slammed back down. Maybe Natasha would understand it all but Steve certainly wouldn’t. There was too much bad there. Too much that you had done — you didn’t want him to see you that way. You wanted to start over. You wanted to be seen as someone good. Someone who could be loved by someone good. Steve was good. Steve was safe. 

This was what you wanted. So you put the mask back on.

“Y/N,” Steve said with a concerned look on his face as he approached you, and Natasha pulled away from your hug. “How’s Matt, is he okay?”

You nodded, but the memory of it was choking your words again. You took a moment to compose yourself, rubbing your hands over your face as the scene replayed over your eyes.

It was Natasha who took over, “She said he had a collapsed lung, but he’s going to be okay.”

You felt her squeeze your arm, and you opened your eyes again to see Natasha’s sympathetic smile.

Natasha’s phone suddenly buzzed, and she checked it. “Fury wants me; I gotta go.” She looked up at you again. “Hey, you ever need to talk, I’m here, okay?”

You nodded again, feeling oddly warm by her sentiment, and watched her get into the elevator.

Steve gently ushered you to sit down. “What happened?” Something shifted on his face. “Matt didn’t try to. . . Did he?” You understood his question: Did Matt try to kill himself? And again you felt the flash of guilt for having blurted out to the Avengers that Matt was suicidal. 

“No, no,” you reassured Steve. “To be honest, Matt’s too Catholic to actually try anything.” Again. “No, it. . .” You built up a lie on the spot. “It was a car accident. Matt was in a taxi . . . Some guy ran a red light. Both drivers were okay but Matt was . . . in pretty bad shape.” You could feel the emotion beginning to overwhelm you again. “I didn’t know if he was gonna be okay.”

Steve hugged you then, and you let him. 

After a few moments, you pulled back and said, “I’m sorry I left in the middle of our date.”

Steve shook his head. “You had a good reason. But I’d . . . like to take you out again. If you want.”

You smiled and nodded. “I’d like that.”

You woke in Matt’s apartment.

It had been a couple weeks since that night, the awful night with the awful phone call from Foggy. A couple weeks since you and Matt finally reconciled. 

You’d made a habit of sleeping on his couch whenever you got nightmares. The first week, it was every night. You couldn’t escape the sound of Foggy’s voice (“Matt’s not breathing”), the sound of Matt’s short gasps, the image of him lying on the floor trying to take what could have been his last breaths.

The first night after, when the nightmare of him dying had been so real you couldn’t stand it, you’d found yourself in his apartment, your teleportation taking you where you needed to go. You’d laid on his couch and watched the bright billboard outside change colours. Red, yellow, blue. Red again. You’d held Matt’s blanket tightly in your hands, brought it to your nose and inhaled his scent, and reminded yourself that things were okay.

Matt is alive. Matt is alive. Matt is alive.

After however long of staring at the changing colours, Matt came out from his room. 

“Y/N?”

Your head turned to him when he said your name, and you sat up on your elbows. “Did I wake you?” You didn’t mean to. You didn’t come here for him to comfort you — you wanted him to get some rest. To heal.

“No,” Matt said softly, padding over to you with some cringing in his face as he did so. He kneeled next to the couch. “Are you okay?”

Rather than answering, you looked outside to the changing lights again. “Do you know that there’s a huge, bright billboard outside your place?”

“I do, that’s why rent is so cheap,” he answered.

“When you bring women back here, how do they sleep with the brightest light in the entire world shining into their eyes?” 

“Well, they typically don’t sleep on the couch.” There was a suggestive lit to his tone.

“Touché.”

“Y/N,” Matt breathed, and you finally looked at him again.

You sighed. There was no running from your pain anymore. No avoiding how you were feeling and leaning on drugs and alcohol instead. You had to face it, head on. As hard as that was. You sat up into a sitting position. “I had a nightmare. About what happened,” you admitted.

Gently, Matt took one of your hands and pressed it against his bare chest, over his heart, his hand covering yours. You could feel his heart beating under your palm.

“I’m okay,” he had reminded you.

After a week of sleeping on Matt’s couch every night, it became every other night, then only every few nights. Matt didn’t say anything about it. He’d make the two of you breakfast if you were still around by morning, and a few times the two of you stayed up in the night talking about nothing.

You spent more downtime with Steve over the past couple weeks, and even went on another date with him. It was nice. It made things feel normal. He’d even kissed you at the end of the date. It was . . . nice. Just nice. But maybe that’s what you needed right now.

“When are you going to let me go back out as Daredevil?” Matt’s voice cut through your thoughts. You hadn’t noticed him in the kitchen as you were waking up from sleeping on his couch once again. 

After his injuries, you’d made him sit out vigilantism for the next couple weeks while he healed, not unlike the time-out he gave you after you’d been tortured in that parking lot.

Truthfully, if it had been anyone else who’d asked him to take time off from Daredevil, if it had been Karen or Foggy, Matt probably wouldn’t have listened. He was a big boy, and a little injury wasn’t going to stop him from going out and helping people. But he agreed, because it was Y/N who asked. Because he’d once asked her to do the same thing to keep his own sanity, and now he was returning the favour. Because he knew she was still working through being sober and staying sober and he didn’t want to make things more difficult for her.

And it helped that she was still going out and helping people even if he couldn’t. 

But it had been long enough now. He’d given her much longer than he took off the last time he had a collapsed lung. He couldn’t sit around and heal forever.

You sat up and rubbed stars into your eyes, trying to clear the awful memory that was brought up once again. “When I stop seeing you almost die every time I close my eyes.”

You heard Matt approach you, then hands closed around your wrists to bring your hands from your eyes. The stars faded after a moment, and you could look at Matt kneeling in front of you.

“Look, I get it,” he said softly. “Do you know what it was like to find you in that parking lot, when all I could smell was your blood, when all I could hear was you trying to breathe through a broken rib?”

You didn’t like to think about how he must have felt, because it made you feel guilty about keeping up appearances. At the time, you didn’t want him to feel worried, because you didn’t think there was anything to worry about. You’d had much worse injuries, you’d gone through much worse things. But after what happened that night . . . you suddenly understood. 

“I know you’re scared,” Matt continued. “But this is what we do, right? We get injured like this all the time. Can’t let it stop us.”

You knew he was right. It was just your sobriety that was making it difficult. Your unfiltered eidetic memory that made you relive that night again and again. You sighed. Matt let go of your wrists as you leaned back. “I know.”

“So you’re going to let me come out tonight?”

You slowly loosed another breath. “I got a lead last night. Could use the back-up.” You paused like you were thinking about it. “Wonder if Castle’s available. . .”

“Y/N.”

“Fine,” you gave in. “Daredevil can come.”

Matt gave you a small smile. But before he could stand, you made yourself admit,

“It’s not just that you were injured, you know. Or that you could have died. I know you’ve dealt with worse — I have, too. Close calls are part of the job. I know I can’t make you stop being Daredevil every time it happens. ‘Cause it’s gonna happen.” You paused, trying not to let emotion creep into your voice. You knew you would fail as soon as you opened your mouth again, “It’s that you could have died when the last thing I said to you. . .” 

You couldn’t even continue, the sadness and guilt of it cutting off your voice.

“I know,” Matt said gently.

You sniffed and wiped away a stray tear, opting to change the subject. The two of you had spoken enough about it already. “There’s a cargo shipment going down at the docks again tonight.”

“You’re thinking it’s—?”

“Yeah.” Kids. It was the first tip you’d gotten on the child traffickers in the past few weeks. Whoever their boss was, they must’ve been making an effort to be more careful now that you and Matt were looking into it.

“Okay,” Matt said with a definitive nod. “Then we’ll go take care of it.”

You were outnumbered.

You didn’t expect the ambush that awaited you at the docks. It wasn’t a trap exactly — you didn’t think they knew you were coming, but it was a heavily fortified operation. Designed to protect against any vigilantes coming along.

You used one of Daredevil’s batons to knock out a goon who had Matt pinned in a slog of punches, and helped support him to his feet.

“Still think you missed doing this?” you quipped to him.

He gave you a bloody grin. “Definitely.”

“We need to switch tactics,” you said as you fought a guy off.

Matt kneed another in the face. “What do you suggest?”

“The shipping container with the kids, can you hear them?”

You protected Matt as he took a moment to tilt his head, listening. Then his head turned. “Left.”

You grabbed Matt and teleported in that direction, tugging him along as you began to run. After a moment, Matt began leading the way — You had to pause and fight off some goons as they kept popping up — But eventually Matt stopped at a padlocked container.

“This one.”

You held onto him and teleported the both of you inside. It was pitch black, but the scuffling and crying around you told you you were in the right place.

“How many?” you asked Matt.

“Must be about fifty or so.”

Fuck. 

The crying was starting to get to you, too. Memories of trafficking children for the Red Room began flashing behind your eyes—

You took a breath. Another. You were here to save them, not take them away. You weren’t the villain here.

And you never would be again.

Voices outside. You had to hurry.

“I’m going to start teleporting them out,” you said to Matt. “If they open that door, you need to buy me some time, alright?”

“Do it. Go.”

You unfortunately didn’t have time to comfort or prepare any of the children for what was about to happen. You felt your way in the dark, picking up the first child you came into contact with, then teleported to the nearest police station.

You didn’t have time to pay attention to the surprise on the cops’ faces before you were gone again, back in the shipping container, feeling for the next child, picking them up and teleporting them out. And again. And again. By the sixth or seventh child, there was a crack of light in the container as the men had unlocked the doors but Matt struggled to keep them closed. You teleported in and out as fast as you could manage — but by the time half of the kids were saved, the doors were wide open and Matt was fighting to keep the goons out of the container. 

But this was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen they were fighting against. He wouldn’t go down so easily.

The last child was finally out and at the police station and you teleported back to the container to help Matt — The effort of teleporting so many others at once had your ears ringing but you needed one last jump — You reached for Matt to teleport the both of you out in retreat—

And nothing.

The pause allowed a goon to kick you in the stomach — you slammed back into the metal wall of the shipping container, then onto the ground, where the teleportation exhaustion overtook you and black encased your vision.

Matt’s whole body hurt.

He slowly swam back to consciousness after the beating he took. They were outnumbered a ridiculous amount, and after Y/N got knocked out, he soon followed. 

At least all of the kids were safe.

Y/N’s scent filled his nose. His head was next to hers — was he lying on top of her?

Matt pushed himself up to get off — and banged his head on something above him. Panic struck him suddenly as his senses got a sharp wake-up call — The sounds he was making were confined around him — He put out his hands to the sides to find walls— Walls— Box— They were trapped in a box.

Matt’s breathing quickened, memories of the Midland Circle building collapsing on him filling his mind—

He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t be here, he couldn’t be in such a tiny confined space again— He had to get out, he had to get out—

He couldn’t breathe—

You woke with a heavy weight on top of you, the sounds of heavy, quick breathing filling your ears. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself in a small, enclosed rectangle, barely big enough for two people — and Matt was above you, panicking, pressing on the walls at your sides and above your head.

“Matt.”

“Get us out of here!” 

“I can’t; I’m all out of juice.” You just needed to wait. Wait until your powers returned to you. You’d done this before. Lying in a small box and digging yourself out of a grave was one of the many fun exercises the Red Room made you practice. Any sense of claustrophobia was drilled out of you — But not him. “Matt, you have to calm down.”

“I can’t—” His breathing was too quick. “I can’t — breathe—”

You took off your helmet-mask, then took off Matt’s. You held his face in your hands, as if you could will away his panic-stricken expression. “Yes you can. Yes you can. Just — listen to my voice, okay? Focus on my voice. Focus on my breathing. Try to breathe with me.” You made a show of breathing through your nose and out your mouth a few times. “Remember the breathing you taught me? In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. C’mon, one, two. . .”

He tried to follow her counting, he tried — but the panic overtook him, was overwhelming him— He banged violently against the wall of the box as if he could break through it but it wasn’t working—

You wished you could just tell him to close his eyes and pretend like he wasn’t here but that could never work for him. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t see where they were, he knew it — all of his senses were telling him he was trapped and you knew he couldn’t just turn them off.

“Matt,” you breathed. “Focus on me. Just focus on me.” You pulled his head forward, urging him to press his face into the crook of your shoulder. You felt his stubble at your neck as you threaded your fingers into his hair; you pulled his arm from where his hand pressed against the wall and instead put it by your side; you gripped his shoulder and squeezed his body where he was lying between your thighs — you tried to engage all his senses, to distract him from this nightmare he had no way to escape.

And although he was a heavy weight on top of you, you didn’t mind. You had plenty of experience learning how to breathe this way — and it was Matt. The pressure was more comforting than it was suffocating.

“I’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.”

Pressing his face to Y/N’s neck, Matt tried to do what she said. He focused on her voice. On her breathing. He listened to her heart beat. He inhaled her scent — sweat and blood and something so distinctly her underneath all of that. He felt her fingers tangle into his hair, the slight scrap of her fingernails over his scalp, the grip of it; he felt the pressure of her hand on his shoulder and her thighs squeezing against his sides. He breathed hot breaths against her neck and felt her body shiver. She spoke, telling a story, something about a thing that happened when they were kids — he couldn’t pay attention to the details, only to the cadence of her voice and the vibrations coming from her throat.

(He always did like the sound of her voice. He used to think it was his favourite sound.)

(Maybe it still was.)

And Matt narrowed all his senses to her, just her. The sound of her voice, breath, heartbeat. The feel of her body wrapped around his. The scent of her at the crook of her neck. Even the taste of her skin — his mouth close enough that his heightened senses could pick it up. Salty. Metallic. Sweet.

You were glad when Matt’s breath began to slow. Although the tension did not leave his body, at least he wasn’t having a full-blown panic attack anymore. You continued to talk, just saying whatever, first telling him a shared story about your time together at Saint Agnes, then moving on to some embellished tales of historical figures and events you meddled with. And every minute you kept checking back to your power.

You weren’t sure how long it took, but finally something in you was recharged. You made sure to grab hold of both helmets, then you teleported the both of you out.

Familiar.

This scent is familiar.

The air around Matt was suddenly less heavy; the material below him, below Y/N, was no longer hard metal but now squishy leather.

“Matt,” Y/N breathed, her voice still at a whisper. “We’re home; we’re in your apartment.”

He lifted the top half of his body, angling his head. He gave an experimental push upwards, and found nothing restricting him. When he pushed to the left, he found more squishy leather. The couch. He squeezed it with his hand. She was right. They were back in his apartment.

Matt felt Y/N’s hands cup his face. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

And the relief Matt felt suddenly was overwhelming — all the adrenaline from the panic had exhausted his strength, and his body felt so very heavy and tired. 

He exhaled and let his body press onto Y/N’s again, tucking his face back in her neck. He just needed a moment. He just needed a moment to breathe.

You let Matt rest his heavy weight on top of you again, his body relaxing of tension. This time, he wrapped his arms under you, holding you as he breathed into your neck.

You felt goosebumps raise on your skin. When did you become this . . . sensitive to touch? It hadn’t always felt this way, had it? Like your mind was zeroed in on every movement of him against you.

You had spent years mentally numbing yourself to touch. And then years physically numbing yourself with any substance you could get your hands on. Did touch ever feel this . . . good? You’d had plenty of sex over the years, even sex that you wanted and enjoyed, but when was the last time that you were touched like this? Physical intimacy without sex. You’d been physical with Matt and never given it a second thought before. Touching his face, touching his chest, even sitting in his lap — nothing. 

But now.

There was nothing numbing you now.

It felt. . .

It felt.

Ringing.

Y/N’s phone.

Matt lifted his body from Y/N’s embrace and leaned back on the couch to allow her to answer her phone. Only sitting back did he realize . . . how physically intimate that was.

Probably best not to think about that too hard.

“Castle?” Y/N spoke into the phone. That must have been the name on the Caller ID.

“I’ve got Russo,” came Frank’s voice from the other end. 

“Where?”

He said an address. “You should get here if you want your answers.”

Matt could tell Y/N’s attention was on him. He heard her mouth, Round Two?

He nodded.

“We’ll be there.” Then Y/N hung up the phone. “. . .Are you sure you’re okay to go?”

“Yeah,” Matt breathed. “. . .Thank you.”

She nodded with a small smile on her face. Then she leaned down and grabbed his helmet from the floor. Handed it to him.

He took it and put it on. “Let’s go get some answers.”

Russo was bloody and tied to a chair by the time you and Matt arrived. It was on the rooftop of an empty building. Secluded. No one around to hear him scream.

You didn’t hesitate to approach and grab the back of Russo’s hair, pulling his face up to look at you. “You look like shit.”

He stared daggers at you, unfazed by your grip. “Ditto.”

“Who hired you to kill me?”

The daggers remained. “Go fuck yourself.”

You met his hard stare, then you reached for one of your knives and plunged it into his leg.

Russo cried in pain and doubled over — You pulled out your knife and gripped the back of his head once again. “Do you know how many languages I speak?” you asked, your tone on the edge of a snarl, dragging the tip of your knife over his chest. The material of his shirt was the only thing separating steel from skin. “Because English doesn’t have to be the only language carved into your chest. And I’ve just been looking for an excuse to hear those screams again. Oh, I’m beggin’ you, Russo. I’m beggin’ you to stay silent.”

The anger you felt here was different from before. It had always been strong, but there was no numbness now. Now the anger felt like a righteous burning pyre and it felt good, it felt good to burn and burn and burn everything with you — You’d understood why Matt did this, but now you really understood why he fed his anger and let it fuel him. There was an energy about it, and intensity, a purity. If I must consume, then I will consume everything in my path. And those in my path will be the ones that deserve it.

There was a flicker of fear in Russo’s eyes, and you knew what he was seeing. Not you who had made the promise not to kill. You the soldier, you the monster covered in blood, you who killed and liked it, you who put the laughter in slaughter and did so with sharp teeth. 

“I don’t know who hired me,” Russo answered slowly. But before you could threaten him again, he added, “He wore a mask and used a voice-changer. He wasn’t stupid.”

That description itched something in the back of your mind. Something like dread gnawed on the back of your neck. “What. Kind of mask.”

“Some kind of animal.”

The dread bit down hard but you refused to flinch, not until you knew for sure. “What. Animal.”

Russo paused like he was thinking about it. Then he finally said, “Fox.”

The floor dropped out beneath you.

Your knife clattered to the ground as you stumbled back, the little word having pulled all the air out of your lungs.

Fox.

Fox.

The Fox sent Russo to kill you. For going after the trafficking ring? No. This was much more personal than that. 

The Fox had your knife.

The knife you lost months before you and Matt discovered the ring. 

The Fox has been following you.

The Fox has been following you.

You didn’t realize you were doubled over, heaving sharp breaths into your lungs, until you felt Matt’s hands on your shoulders and heard Russo’s loud bark of laughter.

You turned your head to look at him, his form blurred with tears.

“I’ve never seen you scared before,” Russo sneered.

Then Castle kicked Russo square in the chest, knocking the chair over and leaving Russo to laugh on the ground.

You felt Castle usher you and Matt inside to the stairwell. Your vision swam with tears and panic and you couldn’t get enough air down—

“Hey, hey.” You felt Matt’s hands cupping your face. He had taken off his helmet in the hall, his expression pleading with you. “Breathe.”

You responded with a hiccupping sob, the fear overwhelming you too much—

There’s a fox following you

There’s a fox following you

There’s a fox following you

Matt slid his hand to cup the back of your neck and brought your face into the crook of his shoulder, keeping you there. You wrapped your arms around him and found purchase in the grooves of his suit, holding so tightly it hurt your hands but fearing you’d be swept away if you let go. You inhaled the leather of his suit covering his shoulder, but when you turned your head, you could nose the bareness of his neck under his ear. Press your cheek against his. His stubble was prickly but not uncomfortable, and his mouth was right next to your ear to reassure you, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

You let the touch anchor you as your sobs subsided and your breath became yours again.

You finally felt secure enough to pull back, and Matt’s hand slid down to hold your wrist, a silent reminder of his presence and support. You looked over at Castle, who seemed to be uncomfortably looking away, but looked back when you calmed.

“I’m getting you know the guy he’s talking about?” he asked.

“Not exactly,” you admitted. “But this . . . Fox Mask guy is the same guy heading the child trafficking ring.”

Something like anger and absolution flickered over Castle’s face. This was no longer just about you, and you knew he wanted the trafficking ring taken down as much as you did. “You think that’s why he wants you dead?”

“I don’t think so,” you said, slowly, still trying to process all of this. “Something about this is personal. If he sent Russo after me, it’s ‘cause he knows our relationship.”

“Guys like this make it personal when you fuck with their business,” Castle reasoned.

You shook your head. “This is different. He gave Russo my knife to kill me. My knife. The one that I lost months before we found out about the ring. This isn’t about us fucking with him, this . . . this is something else.”

“You think it could be one of the guys in our unit?”

“I don’t know. It’s one thing to want me dead — lots of people do, I’m sure you had your fair share of wanting to kill me as well.” Castle’s expression twitched and you continued, “It’s another thing to run a fucking child trafficking ring. I’m not sure any of the guys in Cerberus Squad are capable of that.”

“I didn’t think Russo was capable of killing my family but he still did it,” Castle argued. You had to give him that. “I’ll look into the guys. See what I can pull up.”

You nodded. “Thank you.” You looked to the door, planning on heading back outside to interrogate the fuck out of Russo and see what else you could find out about the Fox Mask — when Castle interrupted,

“What are you not telling me?”

You looked back at him.

“Russo was right,” Castle said. “I’ve never seen you that scared before. Shit, Wolf, I didn’t even know you could feel fear.”

You gave him a look like Hardy har.

“What’s going on?”

You weighed telling him the truth. While you decided, you began with, “Well, I’m sober. I’m sober now when I haven’t been sober in a long time. And it’s harder to be brave without a swig of whiskey and a side of Percocet.”

 Castle took this in, nodding. “Good for you.”

“Thank you.” You studied his face. And you decided, if Castle was going to help you take down this guy, then you needed to let him in on what was going on. Which also meant telling him the truth about you. You took a breath. “Look, I know you think I’m a pathological liar — which, actually, probably a little bit. But for the most part, the majority of the things I said while we were serving together . . . were true.”

Castle chuckled a bit. “Even the part about you being KGB?”

“. . .Yeah, especially that part.”

His amused expression dropped. “What the fuck, Wolf? What do you mean? You were working for the Russians?”

“I got out before I joined the military, don’t worry, okay, relax,” you said evenly. “And if you want to ask me more about that time in my life, then maybe we can talk about it later, but for now— The point is, the reason I was telling the truth about all that crazy shit is because I’m a mutant. One with a particular set of skills. I can teleport . . . and I can time travel.”

You watched the gears turning in his mind as the words left your mouth. Watched the realization hit him.

You speak before he can, “Don’t ask me. I can’t.”

“Wolf—”

“You don’t know what will change if I go back and save your family,” you told him slowly. “You wouldn’t have become the Punisher. All those people you saved? Wouldn’t be saved.”

There was something wild in Castle’s expression. Desperate. “I’d trade all of that to get them back. Hell, Red said he could do a better job saving all those people without killing, right?” He glanced at Matt, then back to you. “Let him save them. If you can give me my family back, I want them back.” 

You took a step closer to him, meeting his eyes, needing him to understand. “One of the people you saved was Matt, Frank,” you said slowly, clearly. Matt had told you about Frank saving him on that rooftop with Elektra. “He is someone that I care about. He is my family. And I won’t trade his life to save yours, I’m sorry.”

Suddenly Frank’s hands are on Y/N, shoving her into the wall. Matt didn’t hesitate — he wrapped his arms around Frank’s neck from behind, putting him in a chokehold and pulling him from Y/N.

“Let go of me, Red!” Frank shouted, anguish clear in the gravel of his voice.

Matt knew Frank would never stop. If it was about his family, if it was a chance to get them back, only a grave six feet under would stop him. Maybe not even then. But he also knew Y/N. Knew how stubborn she was. Knew the lengths she had gone to keep him alive, whether or not Matt deserved it.

An unstoppable force and an immovable object. This wouldn’t end without blood.

But as luck would have it, Matt also knew exactly what button to press. “Think of all the times you saved Karen,” he gritted out as Frank fought against his hold. “She’d be dead if it wasn’t for you.”

Frank spit out a growl, not giving up. “She was in a lot of those situations because of me. She’d be just fine if she had never met me.”

“Are you willing to bet her life on that?”

You didn’t know that Karen had some kind of relationship with Frank. But clearly it meant something to him — you watched the war within his mind, the fight between the family he’d lost and this person in his life that still lived. 

He stopped struggling against Matt’s hold, and Matt let go. Frank took a few steps down the stairs.

He shouted, something painful and broken that dug at your heart. He slammed his fist into the wall, then slid down and held his head in his hands.

You got it. What an impossible choice this was. You wondered what you would do if you were put in a comparable position. What if your parents had died instead of losing them to time? What if saving them meant losing Matt? Family against family. What a terrible choice to make.

After a few moments, Frank finally looked up again. “What does this have to do with the Fox Mask guy?”

“When I was a kid,” you began to explain, “I was walking home when I saw two people in the alley next to Saint Agnes. I don’t know if they were arguing or fighting or what. But one of them wore a fox mask. And the other one?” You reached to your side, where your wolf helmet-mask was clipped to your belt. You unclipped and handed Frank the helmet. “Wore this mask.”

He took the helmet from your hands. Studied it. “A wolf.” He looked up at you again.

“At some point in my future, I am going to travel back in time to that moment with Fox Mask,” you said slowly. “I don’t know why. I don’t know who he is, or what he wants with me. And that—” You cut yourself off, struggling against the open vulnerability of those words. It felt uncomfortable, letting anyone else other than Matt see it. The chinks in your armour. The truth that the fearless, bloody beast was only a front. But you took a breath anyway, fought through the discomfort, and let yourself continue, “That scares me. The not knowing.”

Frank sighed, like he didn’t expect the vulnerability from you, either. He was quiet for a moment, then said, “We can’t let this guy get away with hurting these kids. I’ll help you. But understand. If I find him before you do, I’m not putting him in jail.”

You looked to Matt. He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t say anything, either. So you looked back at Frank, and nodded.

You took another moment or two to collect yourself, then headed back outside. Matt put his helmet back on and headed out behind you.

Back on the roof, Castle wrenched Russo’s chair back on its legs. Russo’s eyes held you unflinchingly, his smile smug.

“Look at you, Wolf,” he sneered. “Not so scary anymore. Like a fox took out your teeth.”

Like the flip of a switch, the Matt who had comforted you and whispered gentle words into your ear was gone, and in his place was the Devil and his rage. Daredevil grabbed the back of Russo’s chair and pulled it until it was at the edge of the roof, hauled the chair up so the legs would straddle the edge wall, then tipped Russo back. Only Daredevil’s fists gripping Russo’s clothes kept him from falling into the abyss below.

Like so many times before, Matt let his anger loose. Let the Devil out — let Daredevil take the reins. 

This Russo had hurt his friend. His family. Tried to kill her. And what Matt knew was worse, Russo betrayed the closest thing Y/N could give to trust. He knew what that meant to her. Daredevil wasn’t going to let that slide.

“You’re going to tell me everything you know about the man who hired you,” Daredevil said slowly, evenly, with a voice like ice. “If you lie to me, I will know. And I will drop you.”

Russo seemed unphased by his threat. “You’re Daredevil, right? I heard you don’t kill.”

“Lying in a coma, breathing through a tube? Isn’t dead,” Daredevil continued in his icy calm.

He sensed Russo’s expression falter. There was a pause of silence, then, “I don’t know anything.”

Daredevil punched Russo hard in the face. 

Blood spurted from his nose and a roar of pain and anger ripped from his mouth. “I wasn’t lying!”

And in that quiet, rageful calm, Daredevil said, “I know.” He punched Russo again. “But you hurt my friend—” This time, anger dripped into his voice, and again he bloodied his fist with Russo’s face. “You betrayed her trust—” Each punch was more satisfying than the last. “You tried to kill her.” 

The violence was a different kind of comfort. Watching Daredevil, watching Matt, beat Russo’s face into a pulp, for you, was. . .

There was something you liked about it. There was something you liked about it a lot.

To be defended mercilessly. . . To have blood drawn in your name. . . It should have felt wrong but it didn’t. 

Russo’s scarred face was barely recognizable now through the blood and swelling. Daredevil, breathing hard, gripped Russo with two hands once more, bringing his face to his. “You’ll find no forgiveness from the Devil.”

And he let go.

You knew Matt had weighed the odds. The fall wouldn’t kill Russo. But it was satisfying as hell knowing Russo would suffer that much more for everything he’d done, not just to you but to Frank and his family. His kids.

Matt finally stalked back over to you, his body still tense with anger. He took your hand in his, and it didn’t bother you that his hand stained yours with blood. “Let’s go home.”

“I’m guessin’ he’s not dead,” Frank said, sounding disappointed.

Matt’s head tilted. Listening. “No.”

“You expect me to clean that up?”

“He’s no use to us now,” you said. Russo didn’t have any more information about Fox Mask. “You decide what you want to do with him.”

Frank took a deep breath through his nose and looked thoroughly annoyed but didn’t say anything else.

“See you around, Frank,” you said as way of goodbye.

“Yeah. . . I’ll tell Liebermann to keep an eye out for the Fox Mask.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded. “I’ll see you around, Y/N. Red.”

Matt nodded back. “Frank.”

You gave Frank a parting grin. “You wanna see a magic trick?” And you snapped your fingers, and for the first time before Frank Castle’s eyes, you disappeared.

As soon as you were back in Matt’s apartment, you collapsed into his couch and leaned your head back. You stared up into his ceiling. You felt defeated. You felt terrified. You wanted to scream, cry, hit something. But exhaustion weighed down your body. You didn’t know what to do.

You felt hands on your thighs and lifted your head to find Matt kneeling between your legs. You leaned forward into his space.

“I’m tired, Matt.”

“I know,” Matt breathed. He knew because he felt it, too. He was scared of what this meant. Why Fox Mask was after her — why he wanted her dead. Why Y/N took them back in time. He wasn’t sure how they were going to fix this. But what he did know was that one of them needed to be strong enough to hold them both up. When Matt was in the darkest place of his life, Y/N did that for him. And he could do that for her, now. “We’ll find a way to take him down; we will.”

“How?” 

A small smile crossed Matt’s face. “You trust me?”

You sighed through your nose. “You know that I do.”

“Then it’ll work out.”

That wasn’t the answer you wanted. You leaned back again on the couch, dimly aware of Matt’s thumbs stroking comforting patterns into the insides of your thighs. “Boundless optimism? That’s what you’ve got?”

His smile widened. “Well it could always be worse.”

“Yeah?”

“You could be blind.”

You shook your head, tampering amusement on your face and refusing to laugh at his dumb joke. You leaned forward again as you said, “Y’know you think you're cute when you make your little jokes but really you’re just annoying.”

He just continued to smile at you, and so you sighed and let your head fall forward onto his shoulder. Your groan was muffled by the fabric of his suit.

“It’s been a long night,” Matt said. “For both of us.”

Getting trapped in that box felt like forever ago now. Shit. With all the adrenaline from the panic, you’d forgotten how much your body hurt from the fight earlier. 

And it occurred to you now that Matt was probably in worse shape than you. You lifted your head. “Take off your suit.”

His eyebrows pulled together for a second in confusion. “You take off yours.” Like a child saying, No you.

“Buy me a drink fir— Ah. That joke doesn’t work anymore.” You backtracked. “I mean I need to check your injuries. You took a pretty bad beating back there; I need to make sure you don’t need stitches.”

Matt complied. He stood, then peeled off his suit, leaving him in only his boxers.

Nakedness didn’t bother you anymore. It hadn’t for years. You had drilled into your mind that they were only bodies. There was nothing special about looking at someone naked and there was nothing special about being naked in front of someone. If Matt hadn’t been wearing boxers, you don’t think you would have even blinked.

You stood and began scanning over Matt’s body. He was covered in new red splotches that complimented fading bruises of purple and yellow amongst old scars cutting lines into his canvas. 

There was beauty in it. It wasn’t the first time you had had this thought. 

A violent beauty, yes, but beauty nonetheless. 

Your hand ghosted over the nasty bruise on his side. You pressed it gingerly and heard Matt stifle a groan. “No broken ribs,” you reported, something like relief washing over you. It had been a broken rib that had caused his collapsed lung the last time. You knew something like this could happen again, and indeed it had been Matt’s second time getting one, but you just . . . Not this time. Not his first night back. Just for your own sanity . . . you were thankful. 

Maybe it was weird that it didn’t feel weird that Y/N was looking over Matt like this, half naked in his apartment. This was just the nature of their relationship now. Vigilante to vigilante. Old friend to old friend. He used to get Claire to do this kind of thing, anyway, and that wasn’t weird. It wasn’t about anything else other than making sure he was patched up. Ready to go out the next night.

“Your hands are cold,” Matt commented after Y/N had finished pressing his side.

Not a second later, Matt could feel two cold hands pressing flat onto his abdomen. He inhaled a sharp breath at the sensation, and was reminded of a memory of her doing something similar when they were kids. Although that had been her hands on his bare arm and not her hands on his bare torso, which was a slightly more . . . adult choice of real estate for her cold hands.

“You’re a child,” he said with a staggered exhale.

He heard her laugh, so at odds with the sobbing panic attack she’d had not even half an hour earlier. It relaxed something in him. And it . . . stirred up a vivid memory for him. Of her laugh when they were young.

It sounded the same. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard her laugh like that. Not since before she disappeared. She’d come close these past weeks, since getting sober, but this was the first time Matt heard her laugh and was suddenly thrown back into a younger version of himself, goofing around with his best friend. 

He’d missed her. He’d missed her so badly it hurt. For a long, long time.

It didn’t hurt anymore.

Matt felt Y/N’s hands leave him. “No stitches needed. Although those bruises are gonna hurt you worse in the morning.”

“Always do.” Matt tugged gently on her shirt. “Your turn.”

“You know you’re always welcome to use your unseeing eyes to look at my frankly ridonculous body, but I don’t think it’s going to accomplish much here.”

Her use of the word ‘ridonculous’ told Matt that she was spending far too much time with Foggy. “I have hands,” he reminded her.

Mm, yes you do.

You were surprised when the comment came to your mind but did not leave your mouth. You’d never stopped yourself from saying such comments before. They never meant anything. But your eyes had dipped down to his hands, admired their size, the long slender fingers, the red bruises atop his knuckles with the same beauty as his chest and abdomen and back — and the thought came but was unvoiced. 

You tried not to think too hard about that.

So you complied with Matt’s request and you stripped down to your underwear and sports bra. Again, it meant nothing. You were just a body. You weren’t even fully naked. You were unfazed.

Matt’s hands (warm, unlike yours) began sliding over your abdomen, gently feeling for injuries. One hand brushed your side and—

Oh. An involuntary shiver. That was— You were just ticklish there, that’s all.

His hands slid up between the valley of your covered breasts, moving over your chest and collarbone and neck and—

Your eyes fluttered closed. Maybe not as unfazed as you thought.

It was that sensation again, like what you’d felt before when Matt was on top of you, recovering from his panic attack. It had been a long time since you’d been touched unnumbed. It— Had you ever? Been touched like this unnumbed? 

Maybe there was something to this whole sobriety thing. A secret perk no one had ever thought to tell you. You wondered if sex would feel different now. More intense. And a small part of that idea was . . . kind of scary. Maybe intimidating was a better word.

Matt heard Y/N’s breath hitch slightly as his hands brushed over her neck. His mouth quirked in amusement. “What are you, ticklish?”

He felt her pause. “No, uh. . . Touch feels different, now that I’m sober. Is that weird?”

The amusement faded from Matt’s face and he pulled his hands back, somewhat concerned. “Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not. . . No. It’s okay. You can keep going.”

But Matt paused, thinking over what she said. “Different how?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. She thought about it for a moment. “Less numb, I guess.”

“That’s good, right?”

“It’ll certainly make sex more interesting.”

Matt blew a laugh through his nose, then reached up to continue checking the back of her head for injuries. “I get it, kind of. You know after my accident all my other senses got turned up to eleven. Touch was one of the things I had to get used to. I mean, it’s not the same, but. . .”

“Yeah.”

A comfortable silence followed. After checking the back of your head, Matt moved onto your back — but instead of walking around to your back, he stayed at your front and felt your back from there, flushing your bodies chest to chest. You lifted your arms and rested your hands on his shoulders to give him better access. Pain spiked from his gentle prodding and you winced. You knew there’d be a nasty bruise from slamming into the metal wall of the shipping container.

He suddenly pressed harder than before and you gasped, digging your nails into his skin and pressing your face into his bare shoulder.

“Sorry,” he breathed. “I thought there might be a fracture.”

Matt felt her open mouth on his shoulder as she breathed through the slight shock of pain he’d given her.

“Good news is you don’t need stitches,” he told her. “Bad news is you might want to sleep on your stomach the next few days. Oh, one last thing.” He braced his hands on her sides, over her ribs. “Take a deep breath for me?”

His hands on your sides elicited a sensitive sensation, but you took a deep breath as told. This time, there was no sharp pain in your side. No broken ribs for you, either.

“Good.”

The word was a dismissal, but you didn’t move. Some of the fear from before was leaking back in. You just needed something. Something to hold on to when everything else was so uncertain. 

“Promise me we’ll find this guy,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. You wrapped your arms around his back and pressed your cheek against his neck. “Promise me we’ll beat him. Even if it’s a lie. Promise me.”

You heard Matt take a breath. Hesitating. Then,

“I promise.”

And Matt silently promised something else.

For her he’d make it not a lie.

The figure observed the lot of children through the window of a viewing room up above. Their head tilted.

“There are fifty missing.”

The minion next to them fidgeted. “Is there?”

“Are you insulting my memory?”

The minion cleared his throat. “It was Daredevil and that Wolf of Hell’s Kitchen again. But don’t worry, boss, we got ‘em. Put ‘em in a box and buried ‘em six feet under. They won’t be bothering us no more.”

Daredevil. Such a nuisance. The figure would kill him, but they simply couldn’t be bothered. Maybe if there was a good reason to. 

There would always be more kids.

“Did you check if they’re still there?” the figure asked.

The minion gave them a confused look. “What?”

Then the figure swiftly took the gun from the minion’s holster and unloaded a single round into his head. The BANG reverberated in the small viewing room, blood splattering the window.

The figure handed the smoking gun to the minion standing at their other side. “Congratulations, you’ve been promoted. Don’t fuck it up.”

The door to the viewing room suddenly slammed open and there was a little shriek of fear that followed it. The figure looked over to find a small girl frozen at the entrance, staring at the dead man on the floor. A minion soon followed behind her and roughly grabbed her by the collar of her shirt.

“There you are, you little—”

“I’ll handle it.” The figure approached the little girl.

The minion blanched a little. “Sorry, boss, she just got away from me, I can—”

“Just go clean that up.”

“Yes, sir.” The minion let go of the girl and passed the figure to take care of the bloody mess behind them.

The little girl stayed frozen in place, staring up at the figure. The figure knew what frightened her. The mask they wore was very intimidating.

The figure led the girl out into the hall and shut the door behind them. Then the figure took off their mask and crouched next to her.

“What’s your name?”

The little girl relaxed a bit at the sight of the figure’s real face and the sound of the figure’s real voice. “Amelia,” she answered. She rubbed tears from her eyes. “I want to go home.”

“I know,” the figure said. They reached out and curled a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’ll be okay.”

Tag List: @stupidiout100 @coff3e-and-biscuits @caswinchester2000 @waywardsister1111 @ummvengers @asongofmarvelanddc @1971marauders @krazy-katt-lady @flowercrowns3438 @takethee @lov3vivian @burn-crash-rqmance @readers-posts

[deepspacepunk]

[[ Okay! Compiling everything here so all answers can be found easily! ]]

XAVIER

Okay the love I have for Xavier is all Madi and Rori's fault, we'll start there and it only grows with his recent branch story. I was going to bite through solid steel when he actually started to open up! He's good! I love him!

Initially he was someone I struggled with. Him, Rafayel, and Caleb are characters I see having their feelings deeply linked to MC that it was hard to envision a relationship with anyone who wasn't MC for them, but it's starting to come into focus.

A lot of it has to do with Oliver's admiration for Xavier, initially as a very accomplished, but subdued Hunter. Does Xavier know how effortlessly cool he comes off as? Like he's out here doing insane missions, cutting down Wanderers with ease, Ollie is a little starstruck, yet he's been nothing but nice to Oliver. Distant, but nice.

This might be the calmest of the ships to start with until Oliver starts to notice bits of Xavier's stories don't match up and hey, wasn't that a photo of him? It was from 20 years ago, how is that possible? Suddenly Oliver is neck deep in another mystery and his infatuation is broken because he doesn't know who exactly he's talking to.

If Xavier trusts him enough to open up, they can start to mend their relationship and Oliver would fall hard. How could he not? Xavier's got a good sense of humor, they share a lot of common interests, he makes Oliver feel special, and Oliver is also just a big gay dork who wants nothing more than a sweet boyfriend to help look after him. Xavier's like a warm security blanket.

Of course, Xavier might be astonished by the sheer amount of trouble Oliver is in and he might become immensely protective of him, but hey, Oliver can sleep at night a bit better. Ever's going to have a very hard time touching a single hair on Oliver's head with Xavier there.

I also know this is a couple where the afternoon after-work nap is sacred. They've yet to miss a single session. They're cute! They're like an unspoken favorite of mine. <3

RAFAYEL

Woof. Rafayel is on a mission to eliminate folks who hurt Lemurians, Oliver is in the nexus of both having hurt a Lemurian and also having saved a Lemurian, so there are complicated feelings there. I was talking with Rori about a comic idea touching upon this. I have 0 drive to get it started, so let me post the outline here so you can kind of grock where I was going.

Text is available upon request. (I know it says Haydes, I use Oliver here for clarity so Oliver is the muse, Haydes is the mun, I use both names. It's complicated, I know)

So yeah on the surface, it can be very cutesy. Both are the type to tease each other and to have fun being little drama queens to each other, but Rafayel has a lot of complex emotions towards Oliver and once Oliver knows who Rafayel is, he is going to feel a bit out of sorts. Not quite betrayed as he knows why Rafayel would keep that hidden but more as a "Oh god, I don't know what to do with this information and I'm so sorry about my involvement with hurting someone you care about".

If they can work past it, that's a bond stronger than steel and Oliver could learn a lot about survival and working under the table from Rafayel. Ultimate spy couple truly. Otherwise, it's a romance that is doomed for tragedy. Rafayel likely really did love Oliver, but he can't stop his goals part way. He'll be taking that heart, dearest, and I don't think Oliver would refuse him.

However, it's the universes where Rafayel and Oliver work together that interest me. They would be the type of folks who are overlooked together. An eccentric artists picks up a weird hunter, yeah that's usually how these things go. Oliver is Rafayel's more buff arm candy to keep him company at these long galleries Thomas has put together. They work in tandem, so don't mind them when they're in place they shouldn't be. When they know a little too much about you. When they're sticking the knife to you. Everything is exactly as it should be.

ZAYNE

Originally Oliver was written with Zayne in mind which is why their stories echo each other in a way.

Both ended up generating research that they ultimately destroyed because the implications of the results were troublesome. However, Zayne had much more stable backing and was able to leave and resume his life as a cardiac surgeon. Of course, there are consequences now with Carter hounding him, and there are the lingering consequences, like his trauma with killing William.

Oliver is more complex because he is more entrenched in Ever. His backstabbing was more direct and his consequences are more severe. It caused him to have to uproot his life and stay on the run. As a result, Oliver is a very paranoid man, but it also gave him a goal to work towards of trying to destroy Ever. It is an impossible goal solo, so he's learn how to ally himself with more powerful structures to try and achieve that goal, hence him becoming a hunter to get in with the Association.

At first, of course, their meeting and their relationship is that of a patient and a doctor. Oliver's Evol is suspected to be causing him heart issues, but it more likely the man is so stressed it's making his heart freak out. Eventually Zayne would be tipped off to this and he has to ask himself why?

Zayne is not a snooping man, but he knows when there is greater trouble than what he can see on the surface, so he would eventually dig his way in, which would freak Oliver out because hey! Zayne is nice! He's cute! But people who get too close have a habit of winding up dead, so maybe step back a bit.

Zayne doesn't listen to that kind of warning and once he gets the whole picture, he grows protective of Oliver. He won't do anything rash, he knows he cannot stop Oliver because he is right that if he stops he may very well be a dead man, but he can at least cover for him and provide him sanctuary. He agrees with his goals and wants to make sure Oliver can finally breathe.

Zayne, ultimately, is a safe haven for Oliver. Here, he doesn't have to perform. He doesn't have to be brave, he can just be Ollie in the purest sense. In return, Oliver helps Zayne explore new things, new worlds around Linkon. Not all of them are Zayne's thing, but he has a greater perspective on the art and music scene in Linkon. He also finds himself trying new things that he never would have guessed he liked, such as his new hair cut. It's nice to have someone who knows how to push you just right!

SYLUS

Oliver would hate that he's fallen for someone like Sylus, and yet it works so well.

Listen, Sylus is a new pathway for Oliver. He is someone who is very stuck in his morals and what he views as right versus wrong, Sylus doesn't work within that paradigm. He exists outside of the law and he does work that Oliver ultimately would consider good, just perhaps the wrong way to go about it.

The biggest thing though is that Oliver already has a foot in that door, whether he views it that way or not. He works with folks in the Nest when necessary to get information, he steals, he lies, he does things he would normally consider to be "bad" actions because the end justifies the means. He can be forgiven for these actions because ultimately Ever shouldn't exist and be allowed to hurt people and if he eliminates Ever, then it was all worth it.

Sylus is someone who can directly challenge that notion and get Oliver to relent and in a way even forgive himself now. He also is a deeply powerful man who has more means of challenging Ever directly, a contact that Oliver really needs.

And then there is the fact that Sylus is smooth, he's charming, he knows exactly what Oliver desires. Sylus likes a lot of the same things that Oliver does. He is the perfect man to orchestrate Oliver's downfall here. He's going to be lying awake in his bed looking at gifts that Sylus gave him and realize that not only is he ready to break away from life in Linkon for this man, but that he actually likes if not loves Sylus.

It's messy and I fucking love it.

CALEB

Asking about the guy I'm currently super unwell about is such a dangerous game, I hope you understand you're getting an essay here.

Okay so like, no matter what, there is no way Oliver has any chance of knowing Caleb prior to him being Colonel. He's not MC but make her trans (though believe me, I have thought about this as an AU for Oliver and I have so many brainworms on that too), so he didn't grow up with Caleb. This actually makes it very difficult for him to have a good in with Caleb.

Difficult, but not impossible.

The way I see it, Oliver at this point is likely to go rogue if we follow the in game story. He's going to quickly come to terms with the fact that the Association is not going to be able to make any direct moves against Ever and now he's starting to hit walls and that makes him nervous, so he's going to start making more desperate moves and associate himself with shadier and shadier people to get things does - again, while Oliver is very strict with his morals, he's an "ends justify the means" kind of guy.

Viper has already shown his hand in game as someone who is willing to double deal, so he makes a very lovely in for Oliver to start getting information on Ever. Some legit, some... not so much. His snooping will eventually catch the eyes of one Colonel who is definitely not going to take kindly to someone playing spy directly under his nose. (You can see this idea kind of playing out with the rp I had planned with apple-caleb).

Now, based off my read of the situation, I see Caleb as someone who is still resisting Ever, albeit in a more subdued way. They have him on a leash, there is only so much he can do and most of his actions revolve around keeping MC away from Ever's hands. This means Caleb and Oliver are more or less on the same side.

I think Caleb would see Oliver as someone who is trying too hard and is going to get himself killed. He may push him away, try to convince him to go a different route, but Oliver isn't going to stop because he doesn't want to wind up dead because, well, he's in too deep. If he shares what he knows, he's a dead man and he can't stay quiet. That's just not who he is.

Now here is where I'm going to be jumping off of the deep end and I apologize in advanced because there are two ways I can see this playing out and it really depends on how I read Caleb and how he views gender specifically.

If we view him as someone who buys more heavily into gender roles, then he doesn't need to protect Oliver. He's a man, he can stand on his own two feet, so it's more working together and finding convenient ins to let Oliver sabotage work here and there and find ways to get to higher members of Ever. Very high risk, Caleb is much colder here, but he still looks out for Oliver. This is a much more comradery based relationship and I'd argue this one is probably more platonic than romantic because well, I mean Caleb's not gonna let MC go and Oliver has 0 chance with him and he can accept that.

Now, if we go with more of Caleb viewing himself as a sole protector for those he grows to care about, then Oliver is going to find himself in similar situations to MC where Caleb's going to do whatever he can to get Oliver out of trouble. He doesn't need to be in this fight, he doesn't need to risk his neck, everyone he knew from his time with Ever is gone and he'll only lose so much more if he keeps going. He needs to keep Oliver safe, he needs to lock him away, too so he doesn't get himself killed, if he would just let Caleb look after him, everything would be fine, right? This is more romantic but watch out!

In short, I've become deeply unwell about Caleb and have thought about this in great length. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[[ Does anyone want to hear the way I see ships with the LIs going down Oliver?? ]]

[theintelligentfool]

im so sick of embarrassment and anxiety being kind of in control of ?my entire life? at this point

[hibernating-stag]

I got to yap about Venom in a call yesterday, and you'd think that would get all my nervous energy about that guy out of my system but it Has Not :)

Peace and Love :)

[loverboybrightsideghost]

"reblog for something lgbt to happen to you" at this point i'd be grateful if something straight happened to me

[crossbackpoke-check]

about to be sooo nosy so. my apologies. but. morgan frost? girlfriend? do share (or don’t! again this is so nosy i’m sorry)

for legal purposes i can neither confirm nor deny anything about morgan and his girlfriend but afaik i think he’s single right now? at one point (within the past four years 😭) he did for sure have a girlfriend and that is the extent of my wag knowledge