#how to install a kitchen sink

[essco-bathware]

How to Change or Install Kitchen Sink Faucets: A Step-by-Step Guide

How to Install Faucet: This step-by-step guide will walk you through everything you need to know to change or install kitchen sink faucets.

[kitchenkosmos]

How To Install Vintage Kitchen Sinks With Drainboards?

Vintage Kitchen Sinks with Drainboards: Embrace Nostalgic Functionality and Style

In the world of interior design, vintage elements hold a certain charm and nostalgia. When it comes to kitchens, vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards have become a popular choice among homeowners. These sinks not only add a touch of elegance and character to a kitchen but also offer practical functionality. In this article, we will explore the features, benefits, and tips for incorporating vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards into your home.

Introduction

Vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards offer a unique blend of aesthetics and functionality. These sinks harken back to a time when craftsmanship and durability were valued in household fixtures. Whether you’re renovating your kitchen or simply adding a touch of vintage charm, these sinks can be an excellent choice.

The Charm of Vintage Kitchen Sinks

Vintage kitchen sinks have a certain allure that is hard to replicate with modern designs. The intricate details, ornate patterns, and elegant curves evoke a sense of nostalgia. They can serve as a focal point in your kitchen, creating a conversation piece that showcases your personal style and appreciation for the past.

What Are Drainboards?

Drainboards are an integral part of vintage kitchen sinks. These are flat, slightly sloped surfaces adjacent to the sink basin. Their purpose is to provide a designated space for drying dishes or food preparation. The water from the dishes flows directly into the drainboard, keeping the countertop clean and dry.

Advantages of Vintage Kitchen Sinks With Drainboards

Increased Counter Space

One of the primary advantages of vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards is the extra counter space they provide. Instead of cluttering your countertop with a separate drying rack, the drainboard offers a convenient area to air-dry dishes or place freshly washed produce.

Efficient Water Management

With a built-in drainboard, water from washed dishes or produce can flow directly into the sink, preventing spills and messes on the countertop. This efficient water management system ensures that your kitchen remains clean and organized.

Easy Cleanup

The smooth surface of vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards makes cleaning a breeze. The porcelain or stainless steel finishes are resistant to stains and can be easily wiped clean. Additionally, the sloped design of the drainboard allows water to flow directly into the sink, preventing the accumulation of standing water.

Types of Vintage Kitchen Sinks With Drainboards

Vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards come in various materials, each with its own unique characteristics. Let’s explore some of the popular options:

Cast Iron Sinks

Cast iron sinks are renowned for their durability and classic appeal. They are coated with a layer of enamel, which not only provides a glossy finish but also protects the sink from scratches and stains. Cast iron sinks can withstand heavy daily use and retain their charm for years to come.

Porcelain Sinks

Porcelain sinks exude elegance and sophistication. Their smooth, non-porous surface is resistant to stains and easy to clean. Porcelain sinks are available in a wide range of colors, allowing you to choose a shade that complements your kitchen’s overall aesthetic.

Stainless Steel Sinks

Stainless steel sinks are known for their sleek, modern look and excellent durability. They are resistant to corrosion, heat, and stains, making them a practical choice for busy kitchens. Stainless steel sinks are also easy to maintain and can withstand the test of time.

Restoring Vintage Kitchen Sinks

If you come across a vintage kitchen sink with drainboards that needs some love, restoration can bring it back to its former glory. Here are some tips for restoring vintage sinks:

Cleaning and Maintenance

Start by thoroughly cleaning the sink and drainboard using gentle cleansers and non-abrasive scrub brushes. Remove any rust or mineral deposits with a mixture of vinegar and water. Regular maintenance, such as wiping the sink dry after use and avoiding abrasive cleaners, will help preserve its condition.

Repairing Chips and Cracks

If the sink has any chips or cracks, there are repair kits available that can help you fix them. Follow the instructions carefully and take your time to ensure a seamless repair. Remember to match the color of the repair material with the original sink color for a cohesive look.

Refinishing and Reglazing

For sinks with worn-out finishes, refinishing or reglazing can breathe new life into them. This process involves removing the old finish, repairing any imperfections, and applying a new coating. Hiring a professional for this task ensures a high-quality result.

Where to Find Vintage Kitchen Sinks With Drainboards

If you’re on the hunt for a vintage kitchen sink with a drainboard, here are some places to explore:

Architectural Salvage Yards

Architectural salvage yards often have a wide selection of vintage fixtures, including kitchen sinks. These establishments specialize in reclaiming and reselling architectural elements from old buildings, making them a treasure trove for unique and authentic pieces.

Antique Stores

Antique stores are another excellent source of vintage kitchen sinks. Visit local antique shops or browse online platforms to discover hidden gems from the past. Be prepared to invest time and effort into finding the perfect sink that matches your preferences.

Online Marketplaces

Online marketplaces like eBay, Etsy, and specialized vintage websites offer a vast selection of vintage kitchen sinks. These platforms allow you to search by specific criteria, such as size, material, and style, making it easier to find the sink that suits your needs.

Incorporating Vintage Kitchen Sinks Into Your Design

Vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards can be integrated into various design styles. Here are a few ideas to inspire you:

Classic Farmhouse Style

In a farmhouse-style kitchen, a vintage sink with a drainboard fits perfectly. Pair it with rustic wooden cabinets, open shelves, and vintage-inspired accessories to create a warm and inviting ambiance.

Retro and Mid-Century Modern

For a retro or mid-century modern aesthetic, consider a colorful porcelain sink with a bold pattern. Combine it with vibrant tiles, sleek appliances, and retro-inspired furniture for a playful and nostalgic vibe.

Industrial Chic

In an industrial-style kitchen, a stainless steel vintage sink with a drainboard adds an element of functionality and raw appeal. Combine it with exposed brick walls, concrete countertops, and metal accents for an edgy and modern look.

Installation and Maintenance Tips

Proper installation and maintenance are essential for preserving the beauty and functionality of your vintage kitchen sink with a drainboard. Keep the following tips in mind:

Proper Installation

Ensure that the sink is properly installed and sealed to prevent leaks and water damage. Seek professional help if needed to ensure a secure and sturdy installation.

Regular Cleaning and Care

Clean the sink and drainboard regularly to prevent the buildup of grime and stains. Use non-abrasive cleaners and soft cloths to avoid scratching the surface. Wipe the sink dry after each use to prevent water spots and maintain its shine.

Avoiding Common Mistakes

Avoid using harsh chemicals or abrasive materials that can damage the sink’s finish. Be cautious with heavy and sharp objects to prevent chips and scratches. Additionally, do not let standing water accumulate in the drainboard for an extended period.

Conclusion

Vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards offer a delightful combination of timeless charm and practical functionality. Whether you’re drawn to the elegance of porcelain or the durability of stainless steel, these sinks can elevate the style of your kitchen while providing additional counter space and efficient water management. With proper care and maintenance, a vintage sink can become a cherished centerpiece in your home.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

1. Are vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards difficult to find?

Vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards can be found through various sources, such as architectural salvage yards, antique stores, and online marketplaces. While they may require some effort to locate, the search can be rewarding.

2. Can I use vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards in a modern kitchen?

Absolutely! Vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards can add a unique touch to a modern kitchen design. Their timeless appeal and practicality make them a versatile choice for any style.

3. How do I restore the original beauty of a vintage sink?

Restoring a vintage sink involves a thorough cleaning, repairing any damage, and refinishing or reglazing if necessary. Follow the appropriate restoration techniques or consult a professional for the best results.

4. Are vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards durable?

Yes, vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards, particularly those made of cast iron or stainless steel, are known for their durability. With proper care and maintenance, they can last for many years.

5. What are some alternatives to vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards?

If vintage sinks are not readily available or don’t fit your style, there are alternative options. Consider installing a separate drying rack or choosing a modern sink with built-in accessories for efficient water management. Explore different sink designs to find one that suits your preferences and needs.

6. Can I customize the size of a vintage kitchen sink with a drainboard?

In most cases, vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards are available in standard sizes. However, you may come across custom options or have the sink resized by a professional to fit your specific requirements.

7. How do I maintain the shine of a stainless steel vintage sink?

To maintain the shine of a stainless steel vintage sink, regularly clean it with mild dish soap and warm water. Avoid abrasive cleaners that can scratch the surface. For added shine, you can use stainless steel cleaner or polish specifically designed for kitchen fixtures.

8. Can I use vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards in outdoor kitchens?

While vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards are primarily designed for indoor use, some models can be suitable for outdoor kitchens as well. Ensure the sink is made of durable materials like stainless steel or cast iron that can withstand outdoor conditions.

9. What is the average lifespan of a vintage kitchen sink with a drainboard?

The lifespan of a vintage kitchen sink with a drainboard can vary depending on the material, quality, and level of maintenance. With proper care and regular upkeep, these sinks can last for several decades or even longer.

10. Are vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards a practical choice for small kitchens?

Yes, vintage kitchen sinks with drainboards can be a practical choice for small kitchens. The built-in drainboard provides an additional workspace for food preparation and drying dishes, eliminating the need for a separate countertop drying rack and optimizing space utilization.

You may like to know more about:

How Long Does Primal Kitchen Mayo Last?

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The Best Kitchen Storage Furniture For Small Spaces

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[yandere-daydreams]

Not-So-Scary Moments With The Yan. Genshin Boys (Sumeru + Fontaine Edition).

Characters: Alhaitham, Neuvillette, Kaveh, Tighnari, Cyno, and Wriothesley.

Word Count: 2.7k.

TW: Borderline Shitposting, Prolonged Imprisonment, Varying Levels of Emotional and Physical Abuse, Codependency, Mentions of Stalking, and Unhealthy Relationships.

Alhaitham

It took Alhaitham about ten minutes to drag himself out of bed, his staggered footsteps audible through the thin walls of his apartment.

It took twenty for him to haul himself through his morning routine – water running somewhere in the distance and porcelain clattering against marble countertops as he washed his face and tried to work some life into himself. Alhaitham usually wasn’t so lethargic, but he’d had a rough week. There’d been a sudden influx of paperwork for the Akademiya’s sole scribe, and every second he didn’t spend buried under new legislation and requests for increased budging was, instead, dedicated to one of his many personal research projects. By the time he’d gotten home last night, it’d been all he could do to make sure you hadn’t starved to death and drag himself to bed.

He usually would’ve kept you waiting for a few more minutes, but an agitated grunt marked an end to his normal patterns. In a moment, he was braced against the doorway to his own study, his eyes narrowed half-hearted towards where you sat in his leather-padded chair, your feet propped on his desk. There was an book open in your lap – one of his, something about metaphysics and ley line abnormalities and how both tied into the Inazuman politics. He eyed it wearily before speaking, his voice still deep with exhaustion. “Where did you put my hearing aids?”

His tone was accusatory, his irritation visible. You put on your sweetest smile. “Where did you put my novellas?” you signed, thinking for a moment before adding, “Bitch?”

“They aren’t ‘novellas’, they’re—” He cut himself off with a scoff. “They’re filth. I don’t want you rotting your brain with smut.”

“The plots are very—”

“The plots are half-baked excuses for paper-thin characters to fondle each other in locations you can tell the author didn’t take the time to properly research and—” His gaze flickered to you, his frown deepening. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“You’ve read them?”

There was a long beat of silence.

Finally, he let out a labored sigh. “The dozen or so I couldn’t be bothered to throw away are in a cabinet underneath the kitchen sink. It’s locked – the code is your birthday. Now, where are my aids?”

“You fell asleep with them on last night,” you said aloud, abandoning his glorified textbook and pushing yourself to your feet. His hand shot to the side of his head, finding the metallic cuff only slightly displaced by having spent the better half of the night on his head. As you passed him, you paused, pressing a kiss into the corner of his scowl and pretending to ignore the muffled groan he let out in response.

Neuvillette

Of all the sights you thought you might see after arriving in your wonderous new nation, the Iudex of Fontaine standing over your drained bathtub with a look of potent remorse written across his expression was not one of them.

You’d imagined yourself strolling through the walls of the Opera Epiclese in vivid detail, been able to picture exactly what you might’ve seen standing below the Tower of Ipsissimus or above the bottomless pit that was the entrance to the Fortress of Meropide, but even after you’d found yourself in the smothering care of Monsieur Neuvillette, you never would’ve been able to conjure this sight. He usually insisted that you bathe together, going so far as to have an in-ground tub that could’ve easily been mistaken for a hot spring installed in his (until recently neglected) personal residence to better indulge the habit. Thankfully, the trial he’d been presiding over had run long today, and you’d been able to save yourself an hour of his calloused hands running over your body, of his eyes burning into your skin with a nearly inhuman focus. You knew he’d be disappointed. Irate, even, depending on how his trial swung.

You hadn’t expected him to be so… sulky about it.

Half-lidded eyes, a slight pout tugging at the corner of his lips as he lingered idly in the doorway between your shared bedroom and the in-suite bathroom. Steam and silence laid heavy in the air – the latter you were eventually forced to break as you fiddled with the hem of your robe. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, hoping more to break the tension than to make him think you were genuinely apologetic. “It was getting late, and I didn’t know when you were coming home. I didn’t think you’d take it so personally.” When he didn’t respond, you braced yourself for the worst. “If you’re angry, please say so. I… I’d rather get this over with now, if it’s all the same to you.”

His expression softened. He let out an airy sigh and, with only a moment of hesitation, closed the space between you. “I’m not angry.” A pair of lean arms wrapped around your waist, his face soon buried in the crook of your neck. You heard him inhale, and did what you could to suppress the shudder that ran up your spine at the thought of him basking in your scent. “I’ve just been… looking forward to it, I suppose. Your taste relaxes me.”

Immediately, you went rigid. “My… taste?”

“Mhm.”

“Neuvillette,” you started, very slowly, giving your own mind time to catch up to the dread slowly building in the pit of your stomach. “Have you been drinking my bathwater?”

He was quiet for a not inconsiderable amount of time.

Finally, he pulled away from you just far enough to speak. “…no?”

For your own sake, you decided to believe him.

Kaveh

“Kaveh.”

“Not now, treasure.”

“Go to bed.”

“I will, in another hour.”

“You need to get some sleep.”

“I’ve already told you – I’m fine.” He narrowed his eyes, expression contorted by concentration. “Knight to B4.”

“Kaveh,” you repeated, leaning across the table. “You were showing me your blueprints.”

“Oh.” He blinked several times, looking over the sheet of blue paper marked with chalk drawings and near indecipherable hand-writing. “Were you impressed?”

Your frown irked, but you swallowed back your exasperation and pushed yourself to your feet. Slowly, you took him by the hand and, when he failed to protest, guided him out of his own seat and towards the room you were usually restrained to, when he wasn’t home. He’d kept himself awake for the past two nights, every moment of the past forty-eight hours devoted to finishing his proposal for a wealthy commissioner’s summer mansion before its upcoming deadline and, now that the coffee had been drained from his system and his adrenaline had been given time to fade, he was practically a shell of a man – all dark circles and hunched posture and disheveled blonde hair.

Sleep deprivation was, by far, the worst thing he could inflict on himself. At least he was happy after he drunk himself into oblivion. This was just depressing; as miserable for him as it was for you.

With a dutifulness you shouldn’t have had to show to your lover-turned-stalker-turned-captor, you brought him to his bed and watched as he collapsed onto it, what little strength he had to hold himself up immediately dissolving. With a sigh, a roll of your eyes, you turned to leave, but a hand lashed out from the crumpled heap and caught you by the wrist. “Stay with me?” His voice was muffled by layers of sheets and blankets, but clear enough. “Please?”

Usually, his bids for affection were met with bitter neutrality or, on your worse days, spiteful condensation. Usually, you would’ve torn yourself out of his hold and made sure he knew that he’d ruined any chance of living out his little domestic fantasy the second he decided his obsession was worth more than your happiness. Usually, you would’ve hated him that much more for daring to ask.

But, he could barely hold his eyes open and when you failed to immediately recoil, the sloppiest, most lovesick smile you’d ever seen plastered itself across his lips. It was his turn to pull you forward, this time; to drag you onto his bed and into his chest. With a satisfied sigh, he slotted his chin against the dip of your shoulder and draped his arms around your waist – an old position. A relic of better times you’d never been strong enough to completely dicard. “When it’s time to draw up the plans for our home,” he mumbled, only half-audible. “I won’t so much as breathe until its perfect.”

You opened your mouth, but didn’t say anything.

He’d already fallen asleep.

Tighnari

He glanced once at the thick packet of ink-marked parchment you’d slammed in front of him before looking back to you, his expression disparaging. “And this is supposed to be…?”

“A custody agreement,” you answered, grinning. “Alhaitham put it together during his last visit.”

“We don’t have any kids.”

“It’s for Collei. If I ever leave you,” and, to be clear, you would be leaving him, as soon as you figured out how to get away from a man who poisoned your tea whenever you so much as suggested entertaining a future that didn’t include him, “I want weekends and summers.”

“She’s nineteen.”

“Which is why we’re letting her pick who she wants to spend holidays with.” You tapped the front page with your knuckles. “Honestly, dear, if you weren’t going to so much as read the documents, we could’ve scheduled this for another day.”

His ears twitched, his tail sweeping across the floor in irritation. “Even if this was legally binding – which, by the way, something assembled by a scribe would not be – I would never give you weekends. That’d be too much travelling for a girl in her condition, and I don’t want her to feel like she comes from a broken home. Moreover, according to Regulation #531 as passed by the Grand Sage last year, you would have to get Collei’s signature before—”

“Check page twenty-seven.”

You watched him scowl as he thumbed through the pages. A second later, his ears flattened against his scalp, and he took to muttering under his breath. “Traitor.”

“If you don’t want your aggression towards the dependent party used against you in court, I’d suggest you sign on page four, seventeen, and thirty-two.”

You left his villa half an hour later with a with a new imprint of his fangs on the side of your throat and a signed document in-hand.

Cyno

“You have kidnapped me.”

“Technically, I was only—”

“You’ve blackmailed me, imprisoned me, and tortured me.”

“You can’t still be hung up on—”

“You’ve branded me with your name, forced me into your bed, and made me play out all your delusional, fucked-up fantasies—” You took a deep breath, pursed your lips. “—but if you show up to a black-tie event wearing that, it will be the worst thing you’ve ever done to me.”

He looked down, as if considering his attire for the first time. He was in his usual uniform – which was to say, shirtless and barefoot, his hair windblown and a fine layer of sand still coating what little he was wearing. You could only be thankful his polearm wasn’t slung across his back, but you knew he’d make it past the door without it. “The way I dress has never been a problem before.”

“There’s a difference between hunting down rouge scholars and going to a banquet being held by a literal god. Archons, Lesser Lord Kusanali herself might be there.” You gasped, dragged your hands over your face. “Everyone who’s ever gone to the Akademiya will absolutely be there.”

For all his many faults, he could never stand to see you in pain. There was a brief delay, a moment of unsure shuffling, then his arms were wrapping around you, his chest slotting against your back has he pulled you against him. “It’ll be alright,” he muttered, speaking into your shoulder. “If anyone so much as attempts to insult you—no, if anyone tries to talk to you at all, I’ll strike them down in the blink of an eyes.”

His comfort was stale, but you forced yourself to relax. At least enough to speak. “You know,” you mumbled, letting your hands drift to your temples. “Dehya was hired by an up-and-coming scholar, a few weeks ago. I’m not sure how long her contract was, but there’s a chance we’ll see her tonight.”

There was a beat of silence, then another.

“Cyno?”

“I’ll change.”

Wriothesley

You could hear him trudging up the metallic stairs to his office; his footsteps heavy enough to drown out the soft music flowing out of his century-old gramophone. His head emerged from the curving staircase, first – his hair somehow more disheveled than its usual state of barely-tamed chaos – then his chest, his tie undone and his collar terribly mangled, as if he’d spent all day indulging the worst of his nervous habits. He was baring his teeth, his pale cheeks flushed with anger and his eyes narrowed into a pointed glare. It wasn’t quite the reaction you’d hoped for (in your wildest dreams, he would’ve managed to sink his beloved fortress before he ever reached you), but it was close enough.

You moved to stand, to greet him with the warm embrace he usually demanded, but he was already in front of you, already pinning you to the back of the lounge you’d been splayed across with a single fist planted less than a hair’s width above your shoulder. “You,” he growled, leaning in close enough for his breath to fan over your skin. “Do you know how many journalistsI had to deal with today? They were everywhere. I couldn’t go a step without tripping over some— over some glorified tabloid.”

“So, your meeting with Monsieur Neuvillette went well?” His scowl deepened, and you let out your most faux innocent laugh – a chiming, bubbling thing he’d never been able to stand. “You shouldn’t scowl like that, love. All those photographers will have to find a new model if you manage to give yourself frown lines.”

He jolted, but forced himself to shut his eyes, to let out a long, ragged breath. When he did face you again, he’d regained a degree of his composure – just enough to meet your smile with his own tight-lipped grin, more teeth than anything. “I’ll let you off easy if you tell me how you did it now. Before I decide it’d be faster to strangle an explanation out of you.”

“I didn’t break any rules, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You paused, folded your hands over your lap. “It was all thanks to our great and benevolent duke. Contacting people outside of the fortress has gotten so much more efficient ever since you decided prisoners should be able to send letters without administrative vetting.”

He buckled visibly, his shoulders falling as he lean towards you, his face soon buried in the dip of your shoulder. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.” There was a raspy chuckle, a hand on your thigh, squeezing just hard enough for his anger to shine through the playfulness of the gesture. “I think I’ve earned the rest of the day off, and I think you’ve earned—”

The door to his office swung open before he could finish, a masculine voice calling up from the voice below only a moment later. “Your grace, t-there’s a reporter here to see you! She says she’s been told not to leave until she speaks to your partner!”

“That’ll be Charlotte,” you half-sung. “She seemed like such a nice girl in her letters. It’d be a shame to keep her waiting.”

When he failed to answer, you brought up both hands and cupped his face, cooing as you used your thumbs to quirk the corners of his mouth upward.

“Just remember to smile for the camera this time, alright?”

[stvolanis]

Stepbro! Rafe prods his finger at your entrance, playing with your folds as he gives you your daily pussy inspection! At first, you were confused cause it’s your most private area n you were too embarrassed to show him. “Jus’ wanna make sure she’s okay, baby. Gotta know when she’s ready for me to break her in.” He’d say, knuckles deep in you. You didn’t know what he meant by that, but it felt really good so you let him!

Stepbro! Rafe who chases away any thoughts of you ever having a boyfriend. Rafes big n’ scary, n’ he doesn’t understand how you think some little boys could make you feel the way he does! So when he finds out you got asked to go on a date with some random kook and said yes, obviously he takes that as a sign of you begging to be punished by him! “Stupid girl. Thought I fuckin’ told you, you’re not supposed to have any boyfriends. yr’too little.” He’d mock as his hand came down to spank your ass, watching as you whimpered and tried to get away from the pain he was inflicting upon you.

Stepbro! Rafe finally has you bent over the edge of the kitchen sink, after long nights of fingering you enough to get you to loosen up for him. His tip, bulbous and leaking intimidatingly, drug through your folds as your slick helped as lube. When he finally decided to take you, his mind couldn’t fathom how someone could still be so damn tight after all the work he put in trying to make this comfortable for you. He kissed your shoulder and neck, lightly biting to take your mind off of the stinging sensation between your thighs.

Stepbro! Rafe who wasted no time in pounding at your sloppy cunt. His balls, hung and full of his seed, slapped at your clit deliciously with each harsh thrust. Your mouth hung in a desperate plea of mercy as the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the wide kitchen, along with a mix of moans. “Little pussy feels so good ‘round my cock. She’s takin’ me like a fuckin’ champ, yeah?” He muttered in your ear. “That’s my girl. Look so pretty like this f’me.” He praised when you squirted all over him after his fingers found your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Good thing you guys were home alone, right? Too bad Ward installed cameras throughout the house—including the kitchen.

don’t be shy, ask to be a part of the tag list and request things!

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[indulgentdaydream]

protective!jason hcs or blurb 🥰

Ok so I kinda touched on these in my latest fic but anyways i WILL elaborate bc those were just background

We all know that man is touch starved. We ALL know it.

We also all know he’s hesitant with sharing touch

It’s only once you both have been dating for a bit already, maybe three months in, that he really starts to show his protectiveness through his touch

Or at least when you notice it

He’s always at least holding your hand as you guys walk around Gotham. Depending on exactly whereabouts in Gotham is when he changes whether he’s between you and the road, or you and the alleyways.

You watched him change it up one time halfway through your shared walk, him letting go of your left hand, stepping behind you and around to grab your right instead.

“Oh? So you want me to get hit by a car and die?”

Jason only keeps his eyes on the passing buildings and the ones coming up, “The chance of that is much lower than somebody trying to mug you in this area, love.”

One day you’re both out at the bar together. He’s sitting on a stool behind you as you babble to oke of yours friends.

From over their shoulder, you see a man approaching, but don’t think anything of it.

Suddenly, you see the man stop in his tracks, freezing. You glance over at him. He looks terrified. He glances at you, his original target, then behind you again. He spins on his heel and walks back the way he came.

You look behind you, feeling Jason’s hand still resting on your hip. You almost feel a little scared yourself, seeing that killer glare that Jason’s pointing at the guy’s back.

He switches immediately the second he looks down to you, a soft smile and kind eyes, not a hint of the previous bloodlust a mere second ago. “What?” He asks, like watching his expression change wasn’t the biggest turn on in the world.

You’re sitting in your apartment at your desk typing away on your laptop. You’re trying to file your taxes, and Jason had come over to help you with it (surprisingly he knows how even though he’s still legally dead at this point and hasn’t had to pay any taxes. Ever.)

He had stood and was wondering around your room a bit while he waited for you to fill the next part out. You can hear shuffling, but you’re too focused to tune into it.

“Jay? What does this line mean?”

Jason grunts for a moment and you hear your window slide open.

You turn back around, “Jay?”

“One second.” He shuts your window again. You watch as he fiddles with the lock before easily sliding the window back open. He throws his hands in the air and looks at you. “How long have you lived here?”

You shrug, confused, “You helped me move in.”

Jason waves his hand through the air, “When?”

“Almost a year? Last November.”

Jason fiddles with the window again, slamming it back down, “This lock doesn’t work. You been sleeping in here and anyone could’ve just broken in?”

You shrug again, “I didn’t know it was broken! I don’t really lock my window often.”

Jason looks like he almost broke his neck by how fast his head whipped back to you, “You don’t lock your window????”

He finishes your taxes for you before he leaves, saying he’ll be back. Within the hour he’s knocking on your door again, a duffle bag in hand full of power tools, screws, and different assortments of heavy duty locks. He spends the rest of the night installing them.

A new one on your bedroom window that actually consisted of two different locks. A similar two on your kitchen window. Another three on your bedroom door itself. Then four on your front door.

As he leaned over your kitchen sink, screwing in the lock and blocking your way as you tried to make you both dinner.

“Is this really necessary?”

“I’m not having you practically open to every bad thing the city has to offer, love.”

“Then how are you going to come in through my window now?”

“I’ll learn to knock.”

That’s all I can think of right now okay byeee

[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

Slap a Bow on It

 "Contrary to popular belief, Danny wasn’t stupid. He could be a bit oblivious, but he always got there in the end. So when Danny woke up the next morning and realized that last night wasn’t a dream, he had an epiphany. He was being courted by the super hot and apparently undead crime lord who ran the haunt on the other side of the street."

@deadonmayn Day 1: Courting Rituals | Flickering | Dinner is interrupted by a rogue/gang fight | "Are they gone yet?"

TW: Danny is thirsty as hell, mentions/allusions to nsfw but nothing explicit

AO3 Link

   Danny blinked.

   He could only assume that the crime lord, illuminated purely by the light of the fridge in the otherwise dark apartment, blinked back. The helmet didn't give anything away, red plating and slanted eye whites impassive. Good for being sexy menacing. Not so good for reading emotions.

   Danny blinked again, wiping the rheum from his eyes with pinched fingers. He squinted once more at Red Hood, who for some reason was in his apartment at - Danny glanced at the clock - three in the morning. He seemed perfectly content to be digging through Danny’s fridge, if a little sheepish at being caught.

    He should probably be more angry that his apartment was broken into. He absolutely was when he first woke to the uncomfortable feeling of an uninvited guest in his lair, but after seeing the vigilante’s arms laden with food his metaphorical hackles relaxed. The apartment was shitty anyway. 

   If anything, Danny was confused as to why he was here judging his fridge’s contents and playing Tetris with tupperware. It wasn’t like they knew each other. 

   Danny blinked a third time just to really make sure he was seeing what he was seeing, "...Hi?" 

   "Hey,"  Red Hood unfroze, seemingly recovered from being caught, and resumed stuffing what looked like a container of tamales into his fridge. 

   Danny couldn’t help but feel sullen at the dismissal. He'd woken up only for the admittedly hot trespasser with thick thighs to barely glance at him. Unacceptable. 

   "Do you want anything to drink?"  Danny must have been momentarily possessed by the ghost of Midwestern manners with how urgent the offer seemed. 

   "Nah," Red Hood stuffed another container into the fridge, turning to look back at Danny, "You don't have any allergies, do you?"

   "Nah."

   Red Hood nodded, pulling out a bag of rotten lettuce. He held it away from himself like it might try to bite him. In Danny’s experience, it very well could. 

   “Do you ever clean out your fridge?”

   Danny shrugged, “It’s finals week. I’ve got to keep my GPA above 3.5 if I want to keep my scholarship. No chores. Only study.”

   Red Hood nodded solemnly as he threw the lettuce into the trash, “No chores. Only study.”

   They fell into silence. Danny watched as the crime lord sifted through his fridge, pulling out rotten food as he went. “Is this because I decked that mugger? Cause’ he deserved it.”

   Red Hood very pointedly threw the expired milk carton into the trash can.

   “Okay then…” Danny yawned, “Well if that's all I’m going back to bed.”

   “Kay.”

   Danny shrugged, turned on his heel, and left the crime lord to rifle through his kitchen.

___👻___

   When Danny awoke the next day, he was greeted by a clean apartment. The absence of crumbs on the freshly swept floor felt odd on his feet, although it was certainly much more pleasant. The trash had been taken out and a new bag had already been installed. He passed by the sink on the way to make coffee, the dishes that had been filling it suspiciously absent. 

   Danny would deny to the ancients and back that his knees went weak when he found the coffee maker already set and filled with grounds... his sister must never know. 

   As he waited for the cup to brew, he opened his fridge for creamer only to come face to face with more home cooked food than he’d ever seen in his life. Danny pulled the food out plastic container by plastic container to stare at in disbelief. Tamales, chicken mole, Mexican rice, enchiladas, and carne asada… It was only a handful of containers, but still. It wasn’t as if his parents had done much in the way of cooking with all their time spent in the lab. Jazz could throw together something basic but nothing like this.

   The local hot crime lord slash vigilante had broken in at three in the morning to feed him and clean his apartment. Huh.

  No time to think about that. He has a final on differential equations in five hours and minimal time to cram. Danny stirs the creamer into his coffee, heats up some Mexican rice, and sits down at the untouched mess of notebooks, paper, and textbooks on his kitchen table. 

   He studies until he has to leave for the exam, only getting up to refill his coffee and get more food. The tamales are pretty fricken good, but they make it hard to focus on the numbers scribbled across his notebook. It’s like each bite is urging him to go back into the kitchen and cook, which is odd considering that Danny can’t cook and he already has enough food to last him through the next day or two (courtesy of the sexy crime lord). 

   He leaves the exam room feeling good only for his mood to immediately crumble when he remembers that he has an aerodynamics final at eight the next morning followed by gasdynamics at one. He takes a brief break to faceplant on the table, scream, refill his coffee for the umpteenth time, and eat some more food but inevitably resigns himself to pulling an all-nighter. Time becomes liquid after that. It’s all just a blur of numbers and properties and instructional videos. 

   At some point, he registers another presence in the apartment. Danny recognizes the ecto signature from the night before so he pays it no mind. Let Hood poke around, Danny has to read more about Newton’s Third Law. What was he going to do? Feed him again?

   The answer was apparently yes. 

   The background noise of shuffling in the fridge and washing empty containers stops and is replaced by soft, mechanical-sounding breaths. Hood is standing next to him, plastic container in hand as he watches Danny run through the Quizlet on his laptop. 

   Danny’s got around eighty percent of the terms memorized. Just another twenty percent to go. He types in the answer for a new blank. 

   Red Hood pokes his shoulder.

   Danny grumbles. His response came back wrong.

   His shoulder is poked again.

   Danny ignores it and moves on to the next blank.

   He continues unbothered for an uncertain amount of time. The words on the screen are blurry like he is trying to read underwater. His mouth splits into an entirely too wide, jaw-cracking yawn. His uninvited guest coos at him as Danny rubs at his eyes. The next thing he knows, his laptop is shut closed and moved away. It feels like any and all visual processing is delayed. Danny stares blankly at the spot the computer used to sit.

   Something slides in front of him to replace the laptop. His core chirps when he realizes it's food. Hood’s answering chirp as he guides a fork into his hand is deep and rumbly with the faint stutterings of a purr. Danny starts to purr in return as he sleepily munches on the casserole.

    Before long the empty plate is taken away. Danny slumps down on the newfound table space and tries to fight off sleep. 

   “I think it's time for you to go to bed.”

   “Noooooo! I’v gotta study fr' aero’namics.”

   “You’re slurring your words there, handsome.”

   Danny’s sleep-deprived brain screeched to a halt. His core chirped to attention, “Flat’ry ain’t gettin’ you nowhere.”

   “It was worth a shot.”

    Danny smushed his face further into the wood to hide his blush and distracted himself by blindly reaching for his coffee mug. Upon noticing, the vigilante moved it out of reach. Danny whined into the table.

   “You can’t overwork yourself like this, Danny,” Red Hood carried the mug to the sink and poured it down the drain. Cruel, cruel man. “I know you’ve got exams but your scores won’t be any good if you go into them like this. You've got to take care of yourself,”  He lightly squeezed Danny’s shoulder. Danny hadn’t even heard him move across the kitchen. “Can you do that, darlin’? For me?”

    Danny groaned, “F’ne. But only cause’ ur hot.”

   The vigilante snorted. It sounded odd through the helmet but not bad. “I’m happy to hear it! Now let's get you to bed.”

___👻___

   Contrary to popular belief, Danny wasn’t stupid.

   He had been helping his parents in the lab since he was four, and he was nearly a straight-A student before the accident. He was an aerospace engineering major with a hefty GPA of 3.8, and most importantly, he’s had extensive lessons on ghosts, the Infinite Realms, and their culture. 

   He could be a bit oblivious, but he always got there in the end. 

   So when Danny woke up the next morning and realized that last night wasn’t a dream, he had an epiphany. The thought kept running through his head as he stared at the food in the fridge, the clean apartment, and the prepped coffee maker. 

   He was being courted. 

   He was being courted by the super hot and apparently undead crime lord who ran the haunt on the other side of the street. 

   Danny had never been courted before! 

   Sure, occasionally there was someone who tried to shoot their shot, but it always fell flat in the end. It was an unfortunate side effect of being undead. Every human relationship he had felt… lacking. Like it was missing something. 

   Val had come pretty close. All the fighting and shooting felt like a mimicry of ghostly courtship behavior. It's what had drawn Danny to her in the first place, but Val wasn’t fighting him in a display of power and capability. She had genuinely wanted to end him. 

   There was also the incident with Kitty, but she was overshadowing Paulina and mimicking human behaviors. There was never any ghostly courtship involved, and besides, she was only dating him to make Johnny jealous. 

   This is Danny’s first time being properly courted!

   What is he going to do about it?

   He decided that the question could wait until after finals.

   The next few days pass by much the same as before: a tortuous cycle of studying, caffeine, minimal sleep, screaming, and exams. Red Hood continues to stop by and deliver food. Danny has got to figure out the dude’s actual name or a nickname or something. He refuses to keep calling his potential partner Red Hood. When you take away the scary crime lord persona it just sounds like a condom brand. He could always use a pet name, but it feels wrong given that Danny hasn’t shown much reciprocation outside of allowing Hood into his lair. Instead, Danny settles on greeting him with a trill and a series of chirps. 

   As soon as he finishes his last final he flops face down into bed. Tomorrow he’ll get to work on reciprocating Red Hood’s efforts. His kitchen is blessedly clean of any ecto contamination. Without the food fighting back, he should be able to whip up something presentable. How hard could following a recipe be?

___👻___

   Danny was wrong.  

   Staring at the stove which was somehow on fire, Danny couldn’t help but finally understand why Jazz had never allowed him in the kitchen. He quickly rushes to turn off the heat. Danny doesn’t have a fire extinguisher. He’s a broke college student with just enough money to live on the outskirts of Crime Alley. Why would he ever be able to afford a fire extinguisher? 

   Danny slams a lid over the pot to smother the flames erupting from it and wacks the stovetop with a damp towel. As the fire dies down he glares at the somehow burnt gnocchi sitting ever so innocently in boiling water. He probably could have just iced it. The ice would melt into water and put out the fire, right? 

   He takes another look at the ruined food as the bubbles die down and decides he’s probably just cursed. Not all hope is lost though, Danny reasons as he dumps the ruined gnocchi down the garbage disposal. So Italian cuisine was not his forte. That’s okay! He’ll just try a different recipe!

___👻___

   The recipe said quick and easy. 

   This was neither quick nor easy.

   He dumped the carbonized remains of food into the trash with a sigh. It was French toast! How could someone go so wrong with French toast? The kitchen looked like something had exploded in it for ancients’ sake! 

   Danny thunked his head onto the counter, uncaring of the milk and eggs coating it. An entire loaf of bread gone and not a single edible piece of toast to show for it! He groaned. Maybe he just… wasn’t cut out for this whole courting thing. 

   Dejectedly, he lifted his head and began to wipe down the counter with paper towels. He really liked Hood.

   He was funny! While he mostly left Danny alone during his study sessions, Danny had seen the viral videos. Hood knew how to crack a good death joke, and the compilations of him ragging on Batman were something to aspire to. 

   He cared for people! The sponsored soup kitchens and homeless programs were an open secret in Crime Alley, and the working girls were paid well. The street kids knew they were safe in the Alley because anyone who tried to touch them would end up with their head in a duffle bag. Red Hood protected them.

   And ancients was he hot! Thick thighs for days and strong arms that could probably lift Danny like a couple of grapes. Danny wouldn’t mind being thrown around by a guy like that. He would happily let him pin him to a wall and box him in and then Danny could sink his fangs into his shoulder and then- 

   Okay! Stop! Too far! That’s awfully ambitious for someone who can’t even cook a proper courting gift. Think, Danny, Think! 

  Okay… okay. So he can’t cook. That’s fine because Danny can build. He’s been building things since he was practically a toddler. He can make something easy peasy!

   What about a gun? Red Hood seemed to like guns. Danny’s core purred at the idea. If he had to guess, the vigilante had a protection obsession of some sort. A gun was something that could protect Red Hood but also be used to protect others in his haunt and directly feed into his obsession. Yes! The gun idea was good.

   But then again, Hood had been working with Batman more and more frequently, and with that had been using guns less and less. How often could the gun be used? No, no. This courting gift should be usable in all scenarios. 

   What about a knife? Yes! A knife could work! As far as Danny knew, Batman didn't have anything against knives. Surely a knife paled in comparison to Robin's katana. A knife was sneaky and quiet, good for stealth missions unlike a gun, and easier to carry for everyday use. 

   Danny hummed, nodding to himself. He’d do the knife first and save the gun for later. He was going to need supplies. 

   Danny wiped the dripping egg away from his forehead before it could get into his eyes. But first, he was going to need a shower.

___👻___

   So…

   It could’ve gone worse.

   Despite basically being raised reverse-engineering his parents’ inventions, Danny had never tried to make a knife. He could gut a microwave from the local back alley dumpster and Macgyver it into a functioning weapon, but building a makeshift forge on short notice and hammering steel down into a smooth curve was a whole different ballpark. Luckily the local trade school had a forge, and after some good old-fashioned bribery, they allowed Danny access. That was the first problem out of the way. Unfortunately, the second problem remained. It was fine. Danny was used to thinking on his feet. 

  After many YouTube videos and failed attempts Danny had a somewhat presentable blade. With a saw edge on the top and a sharp curve similar to a khukuri on the bottom, it certainly didn’t look like a beginner's design.

   He probably shouldn’t have skipped straight to a more advanced shape. Danny hadn’t managed to fix the slight warp of the blade, and maybe the practice beforehand would have done him some good. Regardless, it was too late to fix it after the ecto wash, and he didn’t think the warp would affect the performance too negatively. Besides, with the ectoplasm infused into it the knife should cut through ghosts with no problem. 

  Danny had spent entirely too long trying to find the perfect shade of red leather for the handle, but in the end, he accurately matched it to Red Hood’s helmet. He had wanted to incorporate some protective runes into the leather, but he had no idea how to make a lasting pattern that wouldn’t affect the user’s comfort. Eventually, he decided it was an idea to be saved for another project. 

   With his courting gift complete, all that was left to do was break into Red Hood’s lair and give it to him…

   That sounded wrong. Give the knife to him. It’s not an innuendo! Great. Now he’s thinking about those thick thighs again. Stop! Bad Danny!

   He shook himself to dispel the train of thought. Danny had a different, more pressing problem to deal with: How could he present a knife to a vigilante without it coming across as a threat? He didn’t have a box for it, and the knife didn’t have a sheath yet. He could always make himself the box and store it in his chest, but watching someone pull random items out of their body was apparently gross and disturbing, or so he’d been told. What if he just-

   Danny yanked open the kitchen junk drawer and began to root around. After a few seconds of sifting, he pulled out his prize and ever so gently stuck it to the knife. The green gift bow was squished on one end but remained comically large on the blade. He bounced up and down on his toes. It was so stupid that it just might work. 

   Feeling the cool rush of invisibility, Danny phased through the wall of his apartment to greet the early morning light beginning to peak over the buildings. Floating in the air for a minute, he absently fiddled with the bow on his courting gift. With the city starting to wake, Hood should be returning to his lair. 

   It didn’t take long for him to fly past the unseen territory lines and into Crime Alley. Danny had crossed through Hood’s haunt before. It had never felt aggressive like some in the Ghost Zone. Red Hood's haunt was more curious, probing with a warning to behave himself. The haunt felt different this time around. Now it felt welcoming rather than wary, warm. If Danny closed his eyes, he could almost imagine being held in a protective embrace. His core hummed in response, seeking out the other’s resonance. 

   Danny had never been to Hood’s lair. He hadn’t even been given directions, but he didn’t need them. He'd simply follow Hood’s ecto signature to where the haunt’s energy was most concentrated. Like the dead equivalent of a bloodhound. 

   Danny took his time meandering toward the heart of the haunt. He’d never been this far into Crime Alley before, and he didn’t want to get turned around. That was a lie. Danny was nervous and stalling. Doubts flew unbridled through his head.

   What if the knife wasn’t good enough? What if the bow didn’t work? What if Red Hood thought he was threatening him? What if Danny blew his shot? Danny had already screwed up so many other things in his life, he didn’t want to screw this up too!

   There was only so long he could stall. Jittery with nerves, Danny floated outside a decrepit apartment building. The entire structure was practically drenched in Red Hood’s ecto signature, but it radiated in waves from a unit on the top floor. Danny took a breath to steady his racing heart and struggled to quiet his core. It was now or never. 

   He cautiously phased halfway through the wall, chirping in greeting. The apartment was clean and orderly. The fireplace and full bookshelves gave it a homey feel that sharply contrasted with the worn and weathered bricks on the outer wall. The lack of weapons was a surprise. Even if he couldn't see them Danny figured they were still there, well hidden in the otherwise normal apartment. 

   A surprised sound draws his attention to the man on the couch. He’s built like a quarterback, lounging on one side as he struggles to stitch a laceration across his ribcage with a needle in one hand and a handheld mirror in the other. It's hard not to get distracted by the autopsy scar running cleanly across his collarbone and down to his pelvis. Danny wants to lick it.

   Piercing blue eyes search the apartment, arm lowering the mirror. Danny is thankful that he's still invisible. With the heat flooding to his ears, he’s sure he’s as red as a tomato. Danny’s practically drooling at tousled black and white hair and the long scar reaching up from under his jaw to his hairline like a flower stretching for the sun. His crooked nose, clearly broken and healed many times over, only adds to his beauty. Red Hood is truly a modern-day Adonis.

    Hood’s wounded side finally registers in Danny’s brain, rearranging his priorities and catapulting his obsession to the front. Immediately he lets his invisibility drop, absently shoving the knife into his chest for safekeeping. Hood makes a distressed sound as he does so which urges Danny forward. His hands hover worriedly over the man as he pushes as much help/comfort/safety/concern into his aura as possible. 

   He reaches to take the threaded needle from Red Hood’s hand only to be nudged away.

   “It’s fine. I can do it myself.”

   "Hood, let me help."

   "Jason,” he licks his lips, “My name is Jason."

   "Jason," Danny gently cups Jason’s face in his hands, "Please let me help, Jason."

   Blue eyes gaze into his own. The ever-so-faint hints of green within them are captivating, swirling in a hypnotic dance that leaves Danny in a daze. Finally, Jason looks away and nods, breaking the trance between them and passing the needle over.

   Danny allows himself to revert to the mindset of his vigilante days. He stitches the wound with a single-minded focus, practiced hands falling back into a familiar rhythm. Jason watches the entire time, staring intently at his face as he works. Danny struggles to keep his core quiet and pretends not to notice, taping a bandage over the cut. His fingers graze over Jason's body, checking it over for any other injuries. Jason allows it to happen with a distinct feeling of affection/amusement. 

   “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

   “Nah. The kevlar usually prevents stuff like this. I was just unlucky.”

   “Good.” 

   Danny runs his fingers through the white tuft in Jason’s hair, pushing the strands out of his face. His core kickstarts like an engine with a vengeance, humming and searching for Jason’s core song in anticipation. Danny squeaks, stumbling backward. He smothers the sound and quiets his core, but with the look on Jason’s face, he hadn’t been quick enough.

   “Sorry!” Danny stutters out, flushing. 

    Jason’s expression shifts to confusion, “Why are you apologizing?”

   “I’m being way too forward,” Danny drags his hands down his face in embarrassment, “We haven’t had a spar yet and fuck! I haven’t even given you your courting gift yet, but here I am! Invading your space and trying to harmonize! I’m so sorry.”

    “Lucky for you I like forward,” Jason gently grasped his hands, lowering them away from his face. His palms felt warm against Danny’s skin, “Is that what you shoved into your chest earlier? A courting gift?” Jason punctuated the sentence with a gentle kiss to Danny's slow pulse.

   Danny nodded, stunned. Tearing his gaze away from Jason’s lips, he reached into his chest and pulled out the knife. Jason chuckles, his eyes crinkling in mirth, “You put a bow on it?”

   Danny grinned, his fangs on full display, “Well I had to make it presentable, didn’t I?” 

   He gets down on one knee, head bowed and knife held upwards in offering as if he were a knight presenting a sword to a king. Jason gingerly lifts it out of his hands, cradling it like a precious gem. Danny watches as his fingers trace the edge. 

   “It feels like you,” Jason looks to Danny for answers, eyes wide with wonder and a beautiful flush on his face.

   “I wanted to make sure it was effective against ghosts, but it's hard to find enough clean ectoplasm around here. I sorta just… used my own?” Danny rubs the back of his neck with a wince, “Do you like it?”

   He waits in anxious anticipation as Jason stands from the couch. Jason sets the blade gently down on the coffee table behind Danny before tugging him into his arms, “I love it, baby,” his words vibrate over a purr that Danny can feel in his bones, “Just don’t go hurting yourself for courting gifts anymore.”

   Danny groaned, tucking his face under Jason’s chin. “You have no idea how much that narrows my options down.” 

   Jason laughs. 

   Danny pulls away to look up at him, lightly batting at Jason’s peck “I’m serious, Jason! I can’t cook for shit! You’re gonna need to wait a long ass time until I can get my hands on more ecto. I hope you’re ready to wait because it’s going to take me months to build that gun now!”

   “You wanted to make me a gun?” 

   “Yeah? I was going to have one ready in the next few weeks but-”

   Jason’s smile is dazzling as he leans down to press his lips to Danny’s. Danny forgets to breathe as he melts into the kiss. He’s tugged forward until they are chest-to-chest on the couch, cores close together. Danny’s not sure whose core starts to hum first, but the sound is unmistakable as they waver between pitches. Danny bites at Jason’s lips, making a pleased sound when they part for him.

   It’s weird to be doing this before a spar. It’s backward, unconventional. Danny can’t find it in himself to care.

   It’s a wondrous thing when their cores synchronize. Something finally clicks, like a lock snapping into place, and suddenly Danny can feel so much. The humming harmony of their cores permeates every single one of Danny’s nerves. The rush of giddy happiness is unlike anything he’s felt before. He can feel Jason, too. The rampant emotions fling between them until it's hard to tell whose is whose. In Jason’s arms with a core bond in place, Danny has never felt so secure in his life. 

   This. This is what he's been missing. 

   Danny breaks away from their kiss to nip at Jason’s jawline, paying special attention to the scar. Jason makes a pleased sound, tugging lightly at his hair.

   “Your teeth are sharp as fuck.”

   “Aren’t yours?”

   Jason nuzzles under Danny’s shirt collar and into his shoulder. Danny shudders as he feels canines dig into his skin. They’re sharp, but not as sharp as his. 

   Danny giggles, pressing a kiss to Jason’s hair. “I want to see how skilled you actually are with those teeth. Once you’ve healed we can have a proper spar.”

   “I’ll show you a proper spar,” Jason grumbles. 

  Suddenly Danny is pinned, lying on the couch with Jason’s weight on top of him. Jason kisses his cheek, tucking his head back into the crook of his neck with a contented sigh. It's like the world's best weighted blanket, Danny thinks as his eyes droop shut in relaxation.

   They remain like that in silence, basking in the positive emotions and comfort of their new bond. It’s about ten minutes later that Danny finally breaks it.

   “Why me?”

   “Hmm?”

   “Just… why court me? I know I pass through your haunt now and then but we’ve only actually seen each other like… once. What could I have possibly done to catch your attention?”

   “You punched a mugger.”

   “Yeah… so?”

   “You knocked the fucker out in one blow before I could even lift a finger.”

   “And?”

   Jason lifted his head to give him a pointed look.

   Danny stared back.

   Oh…

   Oh!

   “Do you have a competency kink!?”

   Jason flushed, ducking his head back down with a groan. 

[philbridges]

How To Install Kitchen Sink Measuring Countertop

How To Install Kitchen Sink Measuring Countertop

Phil shows you how to measure for kitchen sink when installing a new counter top. ⏱️⏱️Chapters⏱️⏱️00:00 Intro00:22 Now to measure for the sink00:39 Want to find your center02:00 You want to make sure of the measurements before you cut the counter02:15 Even after 30+ years Phil checks himself03:00 Follow us 🙏 Subscribe, 👍, it helps a lot!!➤❓/ 💬: ask@straightarrowrepair.com➤ Follow…

[bellaxgiornata]

The Devil at Your Window |7: In Denial|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 5.2k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

a/n: I think this installment should prove to be very interesting... Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer @keepingitlokiii @kezibear @dorothleah @sarahskywalker-amidala @1988-fiend @haruari @sleepysleepymom @marveious @sunflower-tia @fizanotfeeza @cloudroomblog @babygirlmurdock @writtenbyred @idontevenknow1359 @scriptedmoon @sarraa-26 @barnes21cz @loves0phelia @3sriracha

You stood in front of the small mirror above your dresser in the bedroom, awkwardly angling your body to get a better view of the shirt you’d just thrown on. It was the second one you’d tried to pair with these jeans, but this was the fourth outfit you’d thrown on for tonight because you'd already over-thought the first three. And staring at your reflection now, you were starting to question this one, too.

After telling your co-worker, Stephanie, to give Dylan your number the other day, he'd called you almost immediately and asked you out on a date far more promptly than you had anticipated. His enthusiasm had taken you by surprise, though nevertheless you had agreed. But even as you’d accepted the invitation, you found yourself having to actively ignore the sinking feeling in your gut when the Devil’s masked face inevitably flashed through your mind. But it didn’t seem likely that he was ever going to ask you on a date–whoever the hell he was. 

Granted, you didn’t exactly expect him to, either. After all, he was a masked vigilante who made it a priority to keep himself anonymous while he went out and dealt with criminals in the city. It wasn’t like he spent his evenings out looking for romantic prospects in the process, too. 

So now tonight, just days after making the decision to finally give Dylan a chance and to stop waiting around for the masked man, you had your date. You were nervous despite both of you deciding to keep the evening very casual. Instead of heading out somewhere for a fancy meal at a restaurant or sitting through a movie where neither of you could hold a conversation, the pair of you had decided to go out for a few drinks. Something light and informal. Admittedly you were also hoping that being able to have a couple of drinks would help to ease your nerves, especially because it had been awhile since you'd last even gone on a date. 

But even though the date was meant to be something relaxed, you'd still spent every minute after you'd arrived home from work trying to get ready for it. You'd brushed your teeth at least three times in the hopes to avoid repelling him with bad breath, and then you’d even anxiously reapplied your deodorant just as many times. You had gone so far as to shave ahead of time, too–just in case. Afterwards, you'd spent far too long contemplating which perfume you'd wear for the evening before landing in your current predicament of trying to find something to wear.

Tearing your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror, you grabbed your phone from off the end of your bed to check the time. You groaned in defeat when you saw how late it had already become. With one final look back at yourself in your mirror, you decided to just settle on what you already were wearing. You didn't have time to change again if you were going to meet Dylan at the bar on time.

Leaving your bedroom in a rush, you made your way down the short hallway and through your living room towards your kitchen. Slipping your phone into the purse you had sitting on the kitchen counter, you picked it up and were about to head straight towards your front door, but before you could make your way there to put on your winter coat and boots, the sight of the lilies the Devil had gifted you stopped you in your tracks.

Pausing to observe them, you noticed that they looked more wilted than they even had this morning, drooping over the side of the glass they sat inside. Most of them had also lost a few petals, though some of the remaining ones still held a few dried drops of the Devil’s blood from the other night. Despite their obvious withered state, you’d still kept them on display on your counter ever since.

As you stared at the flowers, you noticed that the glass the bouquet was sitting in was almost out of water. With a frown you slipped the strap of your purse over your shoulder before reaching out and picking it up. You brought the glass over to your sink and pulled the flowers out before dumping the remnants of the makeshift vase's water down the drain. Setting the glass down on the counter, you turned around with every intention of tossing out the old flowers, but after taking a single step towards your garbage can, you hesitated. Glancing down at the lilies in your hand, you noticed that they had certainly lost most of their beauty, but somehow throwing them in the garbage just didn’t feel quite right. 

For a moment you stood there, eyeing the specks of red on a few white and pink petals. Gnawing on your bottom lip, you decided that you still weren't quite ready to part with them. Turning back towards your sink, you set the flowers back in the large glass before holding it under your faucet and filling it with fresh water. As you set the makeshift vase back onto your counter, you mentally promised yourself that you’d finally toss them tomorrow. You couldn’t exactly keep them forever.

Without a backwards glance, you left your kitchen and headed towards your apartment door. Beginning to slip on your boots, your mind quickly shifted to your growing first date nerves, and your thoughts about the Devil soon faded to the back of your mind.

Matt’s elbows rested along the bar counter he was sitting at, one finger tapping against the side of his beer bottle. One of his dress shoes was also fidgeting along the floor, his mind currently elsewhere tonight. He was focused on issues in the city that had absolutely nothing to do with Nelson and Murdock, yet here he was accompanying Foggy to Josie’s tonight, pretending like he was here to commiserate over their lack of paying customers and to figure out how they were going to cover the firm’s growing expenses. But really he was counting down the minutes before he could reasonably leave and deal with what Matt deemed to be more pressing problems.

“Maybe we could sell the baked goods for extra cash,” Foggy joked from his place on the barstool beside Matt’s. “I bet Mrs. Gonzalez’s pies alone would make us a fortune.”

“We’d need a permit for that,” Matt said off-handedly. “Can’t just open a shop and sell food on a whim, Fog.”

Matt registered the movement beside him, hearing the way Foggy readjusted his position on the barstool. Focusing closer on his friend, Matt noticed the pull of muscles along his face as Foggy frowned. Matt’s finger tapped a little faster against his beer bottle in agitation; he really wished he was doing more important things right now. Like finding the owner of that seemingly abandoned warehouse he’d stumbled on last night. He’d been itching to throw on the mask all day, but he had promised Fog they’d have this conversation tonight.

“I know, Matt,” Foggy told him. “I wasn’t being serious. But we do need to start figuring out how we’re going to pay all the bills that are piling up. And I think Karen had some good ideas on ways to save on some of our costs. That’s one of the things I was hoping to run by you tonight.”

Matt sighed, his hand wrapping around the neck of his beer bottle. “Alright,” he said, not really interested in the conversation at all. “Hit me with them.”

“Okay, so,” Foggy began enthusiastically, swiveling further towards Matt in his stool, “I think the first idea she had was completely genius.”

Matt drew his beer bottle up to his lips, taking a long pull from it as he only half-listened to Foggy tell him about one of Karen’s ideas. With how uninterested in the subject matter he currently was this evening, Matt’s attention soon began to wander around the bar, picking up on the sound of other patrons playing pool or catching snippets of various conversations. But as Matt had gone to swallow a drink of his beer, one voice in particular captured his full attention in the bar. Pausing with the alcohol still sitting in his mouth, Matt tilted his head slightly over his right shoulder, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he focused on it more closely. 

“Oh, I’ve really never been a fan of the winter here. It’s too cold and there’s far too much snow for my liking.”

Why had that woman’s voice sounded so familiar? 

Matt sat there for a moment, listening to the woman continue to explain how she preferred the summer months as he tried to place where he'd heard that voice before. And then it hit him.

You. It was you . 

Matt’s hand slowly lowered the bottle back to the bar counter as he swallowed his beer, surprise washing over him. He certainly hadn’t expected to hear you here tonight, and now he found himself wondering how long you'd been sitting over there without him noticing. Out of all the times he’d come here with Fog, he’d never once recognized your voice among the crowd at Josie’s, so hearing it now had completely thrown him. Though he knew it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility that you might ever come here. Since Matt lived near Josie’s, and you lived practically just across the street from Matt, that also meant you lived near this bar, too. 

But still. Here you were sitting at a table in the far corner of Josie’s bar. His bar.

But you weren’t alone. You were sitting at a table with someone else. Curious as to who you were here with and why, Matt shifted in his barstool a little more towards your table, angling himself better as he focused in on who you were talking to. It was only a matter of seconds before Matt heard your companion speak and he realized you were here with a man. His head canting a bit to the side as Foggy still continued on about ways to save money to his left, Matt began to focus on your body. 

It didn’t sound like it should have and that had caught his attention immediately. Your heart was beating faster than what constituted a normal rhythm–currently it was beating similarly to how it often did whenever the Devil appeared at your window. Matt could also smell the adrenaline mixed with cortisol wafting off of you, but those hormones were paired with another scent of yours he’d long grown familiar with on his nightly visits to your apartment.

Pheromones.

Realization dawned on Matt as he pieced it all together. You were here on a date. Possibly a first or second one judging by your stress levels and the nervous fidgeting your hands were doing under the table. But you were certainly here on a date. And you were quite obviously attracted to whoever your date was, that much was obvious to him as he observed your body.

Matt’s hand gripped his beer bottle almost to the point of shattering the glass. His jaw tightened as he sat there smelling your attraction to someone that wasn’t the Devil. For some reason sitting here and experiencing your body reacting the way it currently was to someone else bothered him.

He didn’t like it at all.

A hand on Matt’s shoulder abruptly drew him from his thoughts and he startled in his stool at Foggy’s touch. Matt's head darted back in the direction of his friend beside him, feeling a little disoriented as he tried to properly focus his senses. 

“You okay, buddy?” Foggy asked in concern. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“I’ll be right back,” Matt heard you say. “I’m just going to use the restroom.”

“Yeah,” Matt answered distractedly. “I'm fine.”

Half of Matt's attention was still on you, listening as you'd gotten out of your chair and began to make your way across the bar and towards the bathrooms. When you passed behind the barstools where he and Foggy sat, the familiar scent of you instantly engulfed him. Matt's eyes closed, his body relaxing as the memory of your own warm body wrapped around his almost naked one beneath that blanket surfaced in his mind. Lips parting of their own accord, the taste of your pheromones landed sweetly on his tongue. 

An idea struck Matt once he'd heard the women's restroom door open and close. Sitting straighter in his chair, his attention returned to Foggy who'd already resumed discussing his original topic. Matt knew what he was about to do was ridiculous–and honestly incredibly dangerous considering how observant you'd proven to be–but he found himself speaking without first taking a moment to process what had come over him. Because truthfully he wasn't quite sure why he felt compelled to do what he was about to do. 

“Actually, you know what?” Matt said, cutting Foggy off as he swiveled in the bar stool. “I don’t think I’m feeling that great after all. Maybe it was that casserole Mrs. Canneli dropped off for lunch,” Matt lied. “I’m just going to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“You going to be alright, buddy?” Foggy asked. “Do you need me to help get you home instead?”

“Let me just see how I feel in a few minutes,” he said in a rush. 

Matt slid off of his stool, grabbing his folded cane from off the top of the bar counter as he caught the sound of the faucet running in the women’s restroom. Opening his cane in a rush with one hand, he lightly clapped Foggy on the back with his other. Without wasting another moment, he navigated his own way through the crowd at Josie’s and over towards the bathrooms, his cane running back and forth along the floor as he walked.

When he reached the short hallway where the bathrooms were located, Matt already heard your unmistakeable footsteps making their way towards the bathroom door. Timing things precisely, he stepped directly in front of it just as you stepped out of it. You solidly bumped straight into his chest before stumbling backwards a step. Unable to help himself, Matt’s left hand darted out and lightly grasped your bicep, attempting to keep you from entirely falling over.

“Oh, shit!” you exclaimed, rubbing a hand across your forehead. “I'm so sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Matt said, turning up the charm and fighting down his growing grin. “It was my fault.”

“No, no,” you said, shaking your head as your hand lowered back to your side, “I should have been–”

Matt caught the moment you’d really noticed him as he released your arm. Your breath had briefly hitched, the sound only loud enough for him to catch it. Your heart had begun to beat a little quicker–slightly faster than it had been when you’d been sitting with your date, he noted with pride. A light bit of sweat had begun on your palms which you were now wiping along your jeans.

You thought he was attractive even out of the black suit, even if you didn’t realize you were standing in front of the very same Devil who often so easily got your pulse racing. 

“I should have been watching where I was going,” you finished lamely. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to walk right into you.”

“It’s alright, really,” Matt replied, struggling to resist calling you ‘angel’ as he spoke. That would’ve certainly given him away. “I can’t exactly see where I’m going, so you’re not entirely to blame.”

He flashed another smile at you, enjoying the way your heart hammered a little harder in your chest. Even when he wasn’t the Devil he realized he still liked the sound of that.

But then something strange happened.

He felt your body’s reaction to him suddenly shift, something so incredibly immediate that it had taken him off guard. Your eyes had widened, your brows arching up a bit as your head tilted just the tiniest fraction to the side. Your breathing briefly paused as the scent of your cortisol and adrenaline grew heavy in Matt’s nose for a moment. But then your body just as swiftly switched back to frazzled and attracted to him. You lightly shook your head, as if whatever that feeling was had been fleeting, before Matt could even try to make sense of it. 

Matt’s smile faltered as he tried to place what had just happened. Was that panic that he’d just picked up from you? Or was it…recognition? Had you somehow figured everything out so easily? Were you really that observant?

Strange.

“I should uh, let you get to the bathrooms then,” you said awkwardly. 

“I was just going to make a phone call, actually,” Matt lied quickly, speaking before he could think. “But what if I bought you an apology drink instead? For the headache I’m sure I just gave you.”

You laughed lightly, your hand running across your forehead again. “Thank you but I’m actually here on a date right now. And I should probably get back to them,” you told him. “But again, I’m really sorry for running into you like that. I hope the rest of your night continues with far less injury.”

Matt's smile became tight, his mind reaching for something to say to keep you longer, but then you were maneuvering around him before he could say another word. He listened as you made your way back to your date in the bar while internally kicking himself for having lost the opportunity to try and ask for your name. He’d hoped at the very least he might've gotten it out of you as Matt Murdock tonight once he’d realized you were here.

Standing in the short hallway a minute longer, Matt heard your cheerful voice greet the man you were here with once you returned to your table. His hand gripped around the handle of his cane, squeezing it tight in his fist. 

Humming softly to yourself, you placed the clean stack of bowls up into your cabinet. Too preoccupied with getting ready for your date earlier this evening, you’d left your dishwasher full of clean dishes instead of taking a few minutes to put them away. But now that you’d returned home from meeting Dylan at Josie’s, you found yourself full of far too much energy to brush your teeth and crawl into bed and go to sleep despite the late hour.

Turning back towards your dishwasher, you bent down and pulled two glasses out of the bottom rack. As you made your way towards the cabinet where they belonged, you couldn’t fight the smile from growing on your face.

You’d had a shockingly good time with Dylan tonight. He’d been funny and sweet and the conversation between you both had never really dulled for the duration of the night. He was attractive, too. Maybe not as attractive as the Devil in his black suit with his chiseled six pack, but still a handsome man–and one whose face you’d actually been able to see.

All in all, tonight had been a success instead of a failure. You’d even set up a second date for later this week and you found yourself looking forward to it. Stephanie had been more than right thinking the pair of you would get along well because you certainly had.

Reaching up into your cabinet, you set both of the glass cups on the shelf. But before you could even turn around, you heard a deep voice unexpectedly come from behind you.

“You should really lock that window.”

Spinning around on the spot in surprise, you stumbled back into the countertop behind you when you saw you weren't alone. The Devil was standing near your living room window and dressed in his usual tight-fitting black. There was no smile on his face to greet you tonight, but rather a tension you could see in his shoulders and a stern set to his lips. He looked agitated and you found yourself wondering if he’d had a bad night.

“Considering you’re the only one who uses it,” you teasingly began, hoping to lighten his mood as your startled heart gradually calmed, “I figured it only made sense that I leave it unlocked. I mean at this point it’s basically a pet door for a particular favorite stray of mine.”

The Devil’s reaction had been almost instantaneous at your jest. A tentative smile spread its way across his mouth, all traces of the tension in his jaw and shoulders beginning to melt away. He took a few steps towards you, coming to rest both of his gloved hands flat across your countertop. You noticed his masked face briefly fix on the vase of now dying flowers that he’d brought you for just a second before it focused back on you.

“You seem in a particularly good mood this evening, angel,” the Devil commented. “Are you just that excited to see me?”

A flush steadily began to creep up your neck at the fact that he’d noticed your mood. Truthfully, his unexpected appearance in your apartment tonight had increased your happiness this evening, but there was no way you were going to admit that to him. More than likely it would send him right back to jumping straight off your fire escape. So instead you decided on telling him only part of the truth.

“Actually,” you replied, “I had a date tonight.”

His lips twitched at the corners briefly, a gesture so small you’d probably never have noticed if his mouth wasn’t the only thing you could ever completely see on his face. What had that been about?

“A date?” the Devil asked, sounding surprised. 

Your eyes flickered over to the side of him, your gaze landing on the vase of wilted lilies. You probably should have tossed those earlier tonight considering how awful they really looked now. Knowing he’d noticed them, you wondered if he might’ve read more into the reason why you still had them on display.

“Yeah,” you answered, your attention returning to him. “A date.”

The Devil’s hands curled into fists along your countertop, that agitated demeanor rapidly returning to him. A tenseness had settled in his smile as he gazed back at you beneath his mask.

“That’s nice,” he replied. “I imagine your date behaved themselves tonight then. Or am I mistaken?” he asked. There was something almost predatory in the way his smile suddenly curved a little more as he continued. “Does the Devil need to pay someone a visit this evening?”

Your brows jumped up onto your forehead in shock. Had he just offered to assault your date? But as he continued to stand there on the other side of your kitchen counter with that menacing smile on his beautiful mouth, you realized he’d been joking. 

With a laugh, you shook your head as you made your way back over towards your dishwasher. Bending down, you retrieved a few clean plates that still needed to be put away. 

“No, he was a complete gentleman,” you informed him, carrying the stacked plates back to the cabinet you’d put the cups in moments ago. “We just had a few drinks at some bar nearby. I think it was called Josie’s. Have you heard of it?”

Closing the cabinet door, you turned back around to face the masked man. The predatory smile had vanished and was currently replaced with a faint frown. As you eyed him curiously, you wondered where his usual joking demeanor had disappeared to tonight.

“Yeah, I know of it,” his deep voice responded. “Not the most romantic choice for a date if you ask me. Sure you don’t want me to hit him for you?”

Laughing again, you bent over and grabbed a couple of coffee mugs from your dishwasher next. “It was just a first date,” you explained, “and we both agreed on doing something really informal to take the pressure off.” You shrugged, carrying the mugs over to the cabinet above your coffee maker. “And I don’t know, I kind of liked the place, personally.”

Setting the mugs on the shelf, you heard the Devil release a noise behind you that you could only classify as an irritated grunt. The sound caused you to curiously pause, attempting to make sense of it.

“So you never said how the date went,” he pointed out. “Did it go well?”

A flutter of something flickered in your stomach at the question as you slowly turned back around towards him. It didn't help that it felt like his eyes were boring a hole into you beneath that black mask. Why was he so curious about your date this evening? He seemed to be asking quite a few questions about it.

You shrugged a shoulder. “It went well,” you replied. “He seemed nice.”

The Devil’s lips curved up into a sarcastic smirk beneath his mask, his head nodding lightly. “Nice, huh? Good for him.”

Your eyes tightened further at him, studying the way his muscles seemed to tense once more beneath his black clothes. Your gaze lowered, catching the way his left hand continued to open and close into a fist repeatedly along your countertop like a nervous fidget.

Or an angry one.

Wait, you thought, your eyes still glued to the fist he continued to clench and unclench. Is the Devil…jealous? 

But no, that couldn’t have been. He’d already come here in an off mood, that was probably all it was. Why would he care that you'd gone on a date? He'd have to have feelings for you for that to have bothered him. And you didn't want to hope too hard for something so unlikely.

“So did anything else interesting happen?” the Devil pried. “While you were on your date?”

Your attention returned to his masked face at the odd question. One of your brows arched back at him, your eyes narrowing even further. You definitely weren’t imagining it, though, he was unusually curious this evening.

“Interesting like what?” you asked.

“Well,” he began, turning around towards your kitchen table and lightly rapping his knuckles along the surface of it. “Did you witness any bar fights maybe? I mean the guy took you to a dive bar as a first date after all. I’m sure you must've at least met some curious people there, angel. At least one.”

Opening your mouth, you tried to ignore his uncharacteristic bitter tone as you were about to remind him that you'd been there on a date and that you hadn’t been trying to meet anyone else. But then you remembered the handsome blind man in the suit that you'd quite literally run into by the bathrooms and you immediately stopped short. With his back towards you, you noticed the way the Devil’s spine had straightened, his fist momentarily pausing its repeated movement against your table before it continued a second later.

The guy at Josie’s had been intriguing to say the least. And it almost seemed like he'd been flirting with you. Had you not been there with Dylan you might have accepted his offer to have a drink with him, especially considering that weird feeling you'd strangely gotten hit by when you’d been talking to him. Almost like you knew him somehow, like you could trust him. And you had really wanted to make more sense of that feeling.

But logically you knew you'd most likely never see that guy again. 

“No,” you lied. “I only met my date. Because I was, you know, there on a date , Devil.”

The Devil’s gloved hand uncurled from its tight fist, his head tilting marginally over his shoulder back towards you. For a moment he stayed like that in complete silence as you curiously watched him in return. Then very slowly, he turned around towards you, his hidden gaze seemingly on you beneath the mask. A very faint, almost satisfied smile crossed his lips as he stared at you–and then it disappeared just as fast as you'd seen it.

How strange , you thought. He's acting more unusual than normal.

“So I’m your favorite stray then, am I?” he teased, changing the subject.

You watched as his usual easy smile slipped onto his mouth beneath the mask as if it had been there this entire time. His sudden mood changes tonight were beginning to give you emotional whiplash at this point. Because now he was standing there by your table, all traces of his agitation having seemingly disappeared.

“Yes,” you answered, choosing to let his weird behavior go this evening. Heading back over to your dishwasher, you bent down to grab another coffee mug out of it. “Granted, you're also the only one using my window like a pet door,” you pointed out. “So that sort of makes you–”

Your sentence died in your throat. When you'd stood up and turned around to go and put the coffee mug away, you'd noticed the Devil had quietly closed the distance between you both. Now he was standing so close to you that when you'd gasped in surprise at his proximity, his hips had brushed against your body. 

You couldn't breathe, not with his masked face hovering so close in front of your own. A surge of desire hit you strong and hard, everything about your date this evening fading from your mind as your eyes remained fixed on his parted lips. There was absolutely something undeniable happening right now; the tension between you both hung too heavy in the air to believe otherwise.

Breath coming in shallow, you'd forgotten that you were even holding something in your hand. Without warning you lost your grip, the coffee mug slipping from your loose fingers. But instead of it tumbling towards the ground, the Devil’s hand snapped forward and caught it half an inch from your hand. Wordlessly he reached around you, simultaneously trapping you further between himself and the kitchen counter as he set the mug down.

And then he stayed there, with the front of himself pushing you back into your counter so hard that you felt it biting into your lower back. His hand rose up in the minimal space between you both before lightly landing along your cheek. His gloved thumb brushed back and forth over your cheekbone so tenderly that your eyes fluttered shut beneath it. 

Exhaling a shuddering breath, you willed him to just put you out of your misery and kiss you already. The suspense and the back and forth were killing you. He had to be feeling something for you. His attitude tonight could only be attributed to jealousy, nothing else made sense. So this had to be the moment he just finally kissed you. It had to be.

An agonizing minute passed and all he'd done was remove his hand from your cheek. Your own hands still had a death grip on the counter behind you, keeping you steady as you desperately waited for something more to finally happen. But when nothing did, you released a defeated sigh and opened your eyes, wondering what was going through his mind right now.

But he was gone. 

[ma1dita]

love me dry

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.5k

summary: (post-TLT) The one where he meets you at his mother’s house, though both of you didn’t expect the other to be there. A glimpse into May Castellan’s perfect day (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: sorry for the hiatus! been on the study grind and didn’t even notice, but i’ve been working on this for a bit! macbeth references (comment if you catch them/or ask and i’ll yap) and slight suggestive stuff under the cut—but anyways let’s just say the prophecy by taylor swift came out at the right time.

(posted 4/19/24, semi-edited)

—

The drive to Westport has become almost an afterthought in these past few years— in the way you unconsciously reach for your favorite hoodie on the way out the door or tuck in your chair before you leave a table, almost automatic but ingrained with a touch of care.

With letters to May Castellan occupying your passenger seat instead of the boy who wrote them, you’d make the drive multiple times but stop short just before the property line. It took months of parking at the bottom of the hill and just watching the sun set on the little house, so clearly being able to imagine a smaller version of him running around and wreaking havoc. 

Little Luke, with bandaged knees and feet that move as fast as his motor mouth, amber eyes glinting like windchimes in the summer breeze. His mom must’ve watched him play by himself through the bay window before calling him home when the clouds covered the horizon, wispy tendrils stretching over the rain gutter like how lovers hold hands. It must’ve reminded her a lot of his father, leaving nothing but the open air in his wake. Still, all of this was familiar to you too—despite having never stepped foot in the white house.

But knowing Luke meant knowing his home like it was a part of you.

The old hatchback’s engine gently rumbled against the quiet of the property each time you visited, and May would wait for you to come near— waiting for you to be ready to walk into a mausoleum of the boy you both once knew. You were familiar to her too, even as a blurry figure hunched over the steering wheel. She’s seen your face in the small glimpses between the shattering earth of her reality and the hazy foresight she lets herself succumb to remember what her son looks like. In every vision of him since he’s left, you’ve been there; and something about that quells the pain and anguish that it brings to her body when she sees it. But May Castellan is ever an observant woman, gift of prophecy aside. A mother always knows.

It also turns out that she makes excellent conversation over a plate of slightly singed chocolate chip cookies.

—

Luke Castellan is years older than the version of him that last sat at this kitchen table. He doesn’t know if he’s any wiser for it—wondering if he’s made a mistake in coming back here after all this time as he watches his mom hustle around the kitchen that’s suspiciously sparkling clean. A silver spoon clinks against the glass pitcher that May stirs mixed berry Kool-Aid in, his favorite, he remembers, and it makes him squint against the light that filters through the gauzy curtains of the windowpane above the sink. Luke could’ve sworn that there used to be badly patched rips in the fabric, but he attributes it to the dark corner of his memory he still hides away like a secret. Sitting there and taking it all in, he wonders what it would’ve been like to actually grow up here—to stay, for once. 

But that’s something he doesn’t have the privilege of knowing. When his mom turns to hand him a glass with her shaking hands, wrinkles and laugh lines are mapped across the expanse of her face. He’ll never know how they got there. The wooden chair creaks under him, groaning under the weight that he carries and Luke once again feels uncomfortable in a place he once called home. 

“Knew you’d come back. A mother always knows,” May mutters, voice disembodied like she’s floating just out of reach. Her hands clasped over his, rubbing her thumbs over the veins as if she’s checking his pulse (or the possibility of him being an apparition) and the crack in her smile mirrors his. But this isn’t the home he remembers—his frontal lobe was underdeveloped back then and the only plan it could form was the one to get him the hell out of Westport, there’s something different in the details. Tiny things, like the patio swing chain reattached to its post, a mended table leg, and ceramic tiles on the countertop unbroken and smooth. This is a home and a mother he once longed for as a kid, along with the feeling of comfort and safety you can only attribute to a place like this.

Calculating eyes scan the perimeter of the kitchen, but no one knows he’s made the trip to Westport, not even his own crew. Surely nothing could mess this up for him, not here. This was his last step before his quest for redemption eats away at his physical body, and then it will all be out of his hands. 

There’s not much left for me here, he thinks— there’s not much of me left here, either.

Then Luke hears you before he sees you—the sound of you humming under your breath mixed with the jingle of keys turning in the front door. With bags of groceries leaving marks on your arms and a soft smile he hasn’t seen you wear in ages, for once you look lighter again. For a moment, the thought crosses his mind that this must be what you look like when he’s not around. Nonetheless, he breathes easier when you’re near. Of course, you’re here, and the irony grips him by the neck almost as if to make it known why his home feels like home again.

“Yeah hon, I’ll have to call you back,” you laugh into your headphones before tapping them with one free finger to end the call. In a split second, your eyes meet. Staggering back at the sight of him sitting at the table and the absolute grin on May’s face, you decide to continue into the space ahead and start putting the groceries away like nothing is out of sorts. 

“I see you have a visitor, Miss May. Is he staying long?”

Luke sips at his glass, juice extra tart just how he likes it. His lips pucker at the taste it leaves in his mouth and when he opens his mouth there’s a hint of blue. You try not to look too long.

“For the night,” he answers, even if you weren’t talking to him, but it makes May so vibrant with the notion of him not running again that she instantly hops to her feet and rushes to make the bed in his old room. “I won’t be in your way,” he swallows. You gravitate towards him like a moth to a flame, but move around his chair without touching him—further proving that Luke is, in fact, an obstacle you must overcome. He’s a stranger in his own home and you’ve found yourself at ease in it. You wonder if any of that will make a difference in the long run.

“She’s…”

“More peaceful. I’ve been practicing with my dad, so I do what I can to ease her fits but I’m not exactly equipped to lift a curse from Hades,” you mutter through a bitten lip. Luke stares at you but it feels nostalgic, like someone on the outside looking in. Well, shit. He’s been leading demigods to their deaths every summer and you’ve been trying to cure his mentally ill mother in the time you don’t spend trying to stop him.

“I don’t think I even remember the last time she made sense while talking to me,” he laughs hollowly. You purse your lips and shrug, “I visit her every two weeks. She still has her triggers, and she gets confused but she’s not in pain. Your letters helped.”

“Is that why you came here then?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” you joke feebly. It falls flat and yet he still smiles, even when you say, “They weren’t for me.”

“They were about you. All of them were.”

You know that too. May makes you read them to her before bedtime as you stroke her hair and send her off to Hypnos. You’ve relived your relationship with Luke a million little times, and he’s written about you and all of your yesterdays like it was the only glimpse of Elysium he’d ever reach. In those letters, you get to remember the good parts of being in love—laughing in the empty amphitheater, holding hands under the dining table, sneaking kisses in the strawberry fields. 

You used to understand each other so well: every dream, every feeling. But there is nothing you understand about the man sitting across from you now. The both of you sit at the kitchen table and there is nothing more to say.

Luke doesn’t have to stay. While you were at the supermarket, he spent an hour trying to explain to his mother that he needed her blessing to swim in the River Styx. Through nuances and veiled simplicity in the words he weaved to convince her, there wasn’t much opposition in her half-empty, half-prophetic mind. May always knew that Luke loved to swim when she took him to the beach, and that was that.

There was nothing more to say.

—

He knows it’s too good to be true when moments later May’s screams carry through the halls of the little house, down the stairway you’re currently clambering up to reach her. By the time his boots reach the second landing, he finds the two women he loves most in a huddle against the linen closet, his mother’s glowing green eyes and empty groans rattling him to the bone. If he were any smaller, he’d be shaking. Even now he doesn’t know what to do— feet frozen as he watches you brush her curls away from her face and lull her to solace.

“Can’t find Luke’s sheets—he needs the Toy Story ones…” May mutters as she rocks on her heels, “My boy needs to be home… He’s meant to be home!” Her fingernails are cutting into your wrists and then she silences with a wave of your hand.

“He’s home, Miss May. He’s right there,” you whisper. When your eyes look at Luke, you watch him crumble—the cracks in his fortitude tumbling like fallen rocks at the sight of the two of you and then you see him. The boy you met at 14 who was angry at the world for making him run away from his mother and the hands of fate until it crept up to snuff him out for the sake of a prophecy foretold by deities who will never understand what it’s like to be human. But there are no second chances, and there is nowhere left to run. “He’s here for you. I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.”

“I see it, the two of you together. The worst will be over soon, and then it’ll all make sense,” she says breathily, licking her lips and straightening herself like nothing happened. Even after you send her off to prepare a basket for the beach, Luke doesn’t move when his mother pats his arm and walks around his body and towards the stairs. Neither of you speak until your fingers touch his jaw lightly, and Luke doesn’t know if you’re trying to help him or inspect him. He tilts down to look at you anyway.

“She thinks we’re still together.”

He blinks. Somehow that’s the most shocking thing he’s heard today. Fate is most definitely cruel and fucked up because he never expected it to be like this—once upon a time he hoped he could take you home to meet his mother when everything was said and done; no shackles from Titans or pressure from the gods.

It was supposed to be different.

“The letters probably didn’t help as much as you thought they would then,” he mumbles, calloused hands guiding your hands over to his swiftly beating heart. You scoff, “Neither does bringing up my boyfriend. She thinks it’s you.” He’d believe anyone who’d say they watched you yank his heart out of his chest with that statement, everything bloody in your hands. It’s still yours, even if you don’t want it.

“Kit?”

You shake your head and shrug, “That was forever ago. But he treats me well.”

Luke wants to ask more but by the tension in your shoulders, he knows not to push. He’s not entitled to know anything more than what you give him. It’s not his place anymore. So his brow furrows at your next suggestion.

“Just pretend, Luke. For the day, so your mom doesn’t get agitated. I’m not asking for much here.”

It’s a terrible, terrible idea—even you know that. But you both have always been good pretenders. Liars, a voice corrects in the back of your mind. You reason that it’s for May and insist upon that fact, even if the heartbroken girl you left at Camp Half-Blood is raging at you from deep inside the recesses of your mind that you hide her in. What’s one day with him compared to the many you’ve gone without? You don’t need to know the rest of why he’s here, or what more he’s going to do— and you don’t ask. 

Not knowing has always hurt less.

—

You’ve forgotten how good Luke is at playing the part of a good boyfriend. He offers to drive to the beach, carries the picnic basket and blanket for you all to sit on, and listens intently when May asks about your college classes. There’s no discomfort in the way he holds your hand as you walk in the sand or dusts your feet off before laying them across his lap. It’s easy to laugh at his bad jokes, it’s easy to act like the boyfriend you describe is anything like him (even if he’s the complete opposite), and it’s too damn easy to fall into the familiar rhythm that is you and Luke. The three of you lay down as the spring breeze covers you from the rest of reality, hiding away from the truth of a broken woman and two ex-lovers. By late afternoon, you find yourself enjoying it, and it’s cruel how the guilt isn’t rolling off you in waves, instead longing for him to follow you anywhere. 

He meets you by the shoreline with both of you waist-deep in the water. May’s collecting seashells but she turns to look at you two every so often like she’s framing this memory in her fragile mind. Without saying it out loud, the both of you hope it will hold. 

“She always talks about you, you know? Even without trying,” you mutter as saltwater pours from your fingers to the valleys made by the veins in his forearms. It’s like initiating touch without the consequences of actually doing it, and he immerses himself in the feeling as it spills over him, feet rocking against the tide. 

“I do too. Can’t help it.”

When the sea ripples once more pushing you against the wall of his body, you end up holding on, and he doesn’t let go. You both smell like salt and sunshine, pressed together and nothing has made more sense. The silence goes on for a beat too long—he whispers, “You still talk about me? Your boyfriend must hate that.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk about you? For anyone to get to know me, they have to know you.”

Your shirt is stuck to your skin in the surf and Luke’s hands brush over the waistline of your underwear, daring to reacquaint himself with your touch and spur a reaction from you. You may be the best actress he’s ever known but anything is better than watching you be complacent with the false niceties of the day.

“There isn’t much worth knowing.”

“I’d never say that, Luke,” jaw tensing, you let out a breath when his hands encircle your hips, hidden in plain sight in the deep of the ocean. He chuckles and the sound tickles your brain to remind you it's the type of laugh he spits out when he’s hiding his anger, “There’s a lot we’re both not saying.” Your name slips past his lips, sneaking past your defenses and hitting you head-on like a bullet.

“Why?”

Why are you doing this? Why are you helping his mother, why aren’t you actively fighting and turning him in, why are you letting him hold you if he’s only going to leave again—there are too many questions and only one clear answer.

“Because it’s out of our hands, isn’t it, Luke? You love your mother but you wouldn’t have come here unless it’s too late. Annie told me you went to see her in San Francisco.”

He was never here to make amends or save face. There was no version of him that was going to ask you to run away with him because he knows you deserve more than always running from fate. He’d do it all over again as long as you got this— the life you’re living with your college degree, your boyfriend, and your happy family— and Luke has no place in that.

A dry laugh bubbles from his throat, sticking like seafoam when he says, “You hate San Francisco.” 

You wouldn’t have come, anyway. 

—

By the time you get home for dinner, your skin is sensitive and tingly from the heat of the sun. May’s tracing circles into the back of your hand as she leads you up the patio steps. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that makes you sway against the doorway.

“Too much time having fun,” she mumbles, patting your cheek, “Take a cold shower dear. Join us when you’re ready?” Luke’s eyes follow you all the way up the stairs and then again, he’s left to his own devices.

Most of the said shower was spent thinking about what your friends would say about you for playing house with the enemy. The guilt felt like ice along your spine, paralyzing you for wanting to be selfish, to choose what makes you happy even if it fucks the rest of the world. But looking in the mirror afterward was scarier—you recognized the girl that stared back at you as someone you thought you’d never see again. A version you left behind years ago, with her head held high and so sure of herself with your Luke by your side. 

Surely, there’s no harm in indulging in this vice for the rest of the night. Not when you haven’t felt this relaxed in years.

Dinner is being served by the time you make your way back downstairs. It’s a simple dish you taught Luke how to make back at camp when you raided the kitchens at midnight. Nothing special, reminding you of your own home—but the fact that he remembered makes your smile widen as you take a seat and promise to wash the dishes. Luke chuckles the type that makes his eyes crinkle in mirth once he watches you dig into your meal, knees brushing under the table like old times. 

Everything feels easier after that.

“Today was the best day,” his mother mutters as you tuck the covers under her chin. May kisses both of your cheeks before she shuts her eyes and you gently fold the letter she chose tonight back into her nightstand for safekeeping. This time, you read her the story of your first kiss with Luke sitting at the foot of her bed in the dim light of her room. It’s less scary here than he remembers, but maybe it’s because this time there’s no screaming and him running to hide in the closet. Your voice is much more pleasant than those suppressed memories, immersing you all in a more pleasant one— the both of you in the amphitheater kissing on the stage with his hands in your belt loops. Luke could recite every word on that page if it meant he could go back in time, not with Backbiter but with you, just to live through that moment again. I think I’m falling in love with her, is how the letter ended but by then he already knew. Writing it down to tell his mother always made it real. 

This, you, right here—everything is real.

He’s silent even as he watches you smoke through the cracked window of his childhood bedroom, and you’re surprised when he steals a puff. His hands are shaking under the moonlight and suddenly it’s clear that he’s scared. Everyone feels fear, but in all the years that you’ve known him, Luke Castellan has never let you see it.

“Those things will kill you one day,” you mumble, watching him lean against the windowpane. It’s what he used to always tell you so that you’d quit, but old habits die screaming. It’s another vice you refuse to let go of.

“Wanted to try something new before I…” his voice drops off. 

Lose myself. 

Lose you. 

Luke coughs as the smoke enters his lungs, a momentary rush hitting him brought by the nicotine. Your hands go to cup his jaw as you set your forehead against his, a silent plea for him to just be honest if there’s truly nothing left to lose.

“I’m out of time, Trouble. It’s out of my hands.”

Shuddering at the feeling of him tracing every ridge of your spine, you think the way he says your nickname sounds like the way he used to say I love you. It’s raining outside now, the harsh pitter-patter of wet drops drowning out the sound of your voice, “What can I do? Is there anything left for me to do?” When his head shakes, your noses brush, and your breaths intermingle, almost magnetic. Perhaps the rain is getting in from the open window and you feel it hitting your cheek until you see the shine of his eyes.

“You think I did this because of you. I know you do, but you need to know I did all of this for you, trouble. I choose you and me. Every time,” Luke gasps, intertwining his fingers with yours, the both of you pushing and pulling in this embrace like the moon with the tide.

“Luke…” 

You’re pressing yourself against him, face hidden in his shirt as your brain catches up to your heart, hasty breaths and every atom of your being screaming to be held together by him and then you’re on him, through tears and clenched fists tumbling towards the tiny twin bed. The only way he likens himself to his father is his yearning to be a true traveler, but what he knows best out of anything in this entire world is you. He knew this body once too— every birthmark, scar, and dimple. Who else has had the privilege to navigate the ridges of your spine, to know the pressure of your kiss? A tattoo peeks out to say hello at your hip bone. There are new stories and new marks, there are parts of you unknown to him now. Luke thinks that must be what hurts most about each time he leaves you. 

But then gods, why does this feel so good?

Warm palms caress your waist, nudging your shirt up in the hopes that this will be enough compensation for all his misdoings—the tears you’ve cried, the anger you’ve felt, the things you had to do and will have to do because of him. Luke is someone who’s gotten comfortable with manipulating time, but time has manipulated him and all of his plans for the both of you. Sleepy setback bedroom eyes meet his own that glow in the gentle light of the lamp on the nightstand. Maybe if you pretend again his childhood bedroom can turn into the star-speckled darkness of cabin 12. You can just lay down and tuck underneath his arms waiting for him to fall asleep. But he stays up this time, making you hiss at the feeling of his lips against your neck.

 “We can’t… Angelface,” you say breathily, still leaning into the trail he marks across the valley of your collarbone, “We’re not together anymore.” 

A kiss is placed on your pulsepoint, knocking against the cord of your necklace.

“We shouldn’t… I have a boyfriend.”

Another kiss rests against the warmth of your forehead.

“We’re on opposite sides of a war… You’re my enemy.”

Finally, his lips meet yours, for a moment as if to test the waters.

“Not tonight,” he says, and there is no other option but to agree. There is a lifetime to make up for in a night, and fuck it—they’ll crucify you anyway. You were never meant to be a hero, that’s what he always wanted. You just wanted him. Your head hits the pillow and he looms over you until you’re pulling him in for more than what’s necessary to accept an apology.

There’s nothing left to lose.

—

Before your mind can wake up dreading the consequences of last night, your socked feet take you to the kitchen to clean up the mess you’ve both left behind. The old floorboards creak underfoot and there’s a method in the way you’re washing the dishes, hot water and soap starting to seep through your shirt sleeve but you choose not to notice. Scrubbing at the dirt and grime left behind on the porcelain until your fingers start to prune, a lump forms in your throat before you can stop it. Maybe if you scrub hard enough at the glass that Luke drank out of last night it can eventually be clean. But it’s taking you longer than you thought, jaw tensing and fingers turning white at how hard you’re holding on. May appears behind you, guiding your hands away from the scalding water, and though you resist— the glass drops into the sink and shatters with a loud crack.

“Damn spot wouldn’t get out,” you sniff, turning away to look out the window and think of anything but him, but he’s everywhere even when he’s not here, so much so that it suffocates you. Guilt lines every shaking breath you take until lavender eyes meet amber at the sensation of her clasping your red and raw palms with a dishtowel. 

You see him in her too.

“His fate is greater than the cards he’s been dealt with. You know that.” 

It’s the clearest and most sensible May’s spoken in days. Perhaps when it comes to Luke, she’ll always know better. Eyes darting elsewhere to fight the tears that brim at your lash line, you look down at your swollen hands, palm up towards the heavens almost imploring, “Why couldn’t it be me?” 

The question’s direction is unclear and you don’t expect to get an answer, turning away to grab some ice from the freezer and she remains standing there—staring at the windowsill at a compass that’s now found its home next to the faded picture of a man who’s left more times than there are reasons to stay. Just like his father, she thinks, a small smile quirking at the side of her lip where a scar would meet her son’s. Clicking it open delicately like how she used to hold his hand, there’s a photo of you and Luke resting against the cover ripped away from a memory frozen in time.

“It is you,” May says quietly, though you’ve already left the room.

A mother always knows, after all.

—

“Aphrodite,” I pleaded to the moon-drenched night sky. “Tell me; if love is meant to heal, then why does it destroy those who choose it?” From somewhere beyond the clouds, I heard the Goddess laugh. And I knew. -Nikita Gill

[fishfission-dc]

Batfamily Powerpoint Night! (Part 5: Cass)

<<Part 4: Jason    |    Part 6: Steph >>

[Masterlist]

Cass: (signs) My turn :)

Steph: Before we begin, I want to clarify that I only wrote the words on the slide and they are exactly as Cass told me to write them. Everything else is alllllll her.

Bruce (stressed): If you are denying responsibility I can’t imagine what I’m about to see.

Dick: Favorite colors? Steph what’s so bad about that?

Steph: It’s... you’ll see.

Cass: :)

Jason: Shocking from a vigilante who called herself “Black Bat”

Tim: Steph this seems fine?

Steph (sweating): Guys just wait

Cass: :)

Barbara: Specific...

Steph: I do love those shorts :)

Duke: Steph was that your big surprise?

Steph: Oh, no. No it’s not.

Dick: Um so when did you take that photo of my bed? And why have you been in there enough to know my multiple sets of bedsheets?

Cass: :)

Tim: I mean they are a nice color

Dick: Aw thanks Tim

Jason: UM? THAT IS A PHOTO OF MY KITCHEN?

Tim: We already established that we regularly break into your apartment

Jason: ROY INSTALLED THOSE TILES YESTERDAY.

Cass: :)

Jason: I hate all of you. But I’ll tell Roy that you like it or whatever

Damian: Brown, I believe I am beginning to recognize the pattern that worried you.

[Stephanie sinks into her chair]

Duke: Oh no. Flattered, but oh no

Tim: Duke. Duke what is that

Barbara: Oh my god that’s like... iOS -5

Duke: LOOK I like my phone :(

Jason: So you haven’t updated it since 2010?

Duke: i get it i need to change my password can we please move on

Tim: CASSANDRA.

Jason: Oh my god

Tim: WERE YOU IN THE CEILING? CASS WHAT IS THIS

Cass: :)

Damian: All of your inabilities to detect Cassandra’s presence is rather sad. I would know immediately if someone entered my space or tampered with my possessions.

Jason: So I assume you knew all about this “tampering” then, Gremlin?

Damian: move forward move forward move forward

Dick: Aw, Damian! You never show us your art!

Damian: it’s not even finished please god stop looking at it Cassandra progress with the presentation

Bruce: That is very nice, son.

Damian: ...thank you Father.

Cass: :)

Tim: IS THAT BRUCE SLEEPING

Jason: HOW DID YOU...?

Dick: Oh my god...

Bruce: I don’t even... okay. Yeah, sure. Thank you Cassandra.

Cass: :)

Duke: Cass, I hope you know you terrify me.

Damian: This was... educational.

Steph: I thought that would go worse honestly

Tim: I mean we already know she’s kinda creepy like that, at least the intentions are good?

Jason: Or she’s totally messing with us. And I don’t think we’ll ever know that answer.

Cass: :)

Steph: Alright well I can go next :)

<<Part 4: Jason    |    Part 6: Steph >>

[Masterlist]

[kitchenkosmos]

How To Replace Sprayer on Kitchen Sink?

Upgrade Your Kitchen: Learn How to Replace Sprayer on Kitchen Sink?

In a busy kitchen, the sprayer on your sink is an essential tool that makes daily tasks such as washing dishes and cleaning vegetables much easier. However, over time, sprayers can become worn out or develop leaks, requiring replacement. If you’re facing such an issue, don’t worry! This comprehensive guide will walk you through the process of replacing a sprayer on a kitchen sink. From gathering the necessary tools to step-by-step instructions, we’ve got you covered. So, let’s dive in and learn how to replace the sprayer on your kitchen sink like a pro!

Introduction

Welcome to this comprehensive guide on how to replace the sprayer on a kitchen sink. Over time, the sprayer may wear out or become faulty, requiring replacement. By following the step-by-step instructions in this article, you’ll learn how to replace the sprayer yourself and restore the functionality of your kitchen sink.

Understanding the Sprayer on a Kitchen Sink

The sprayer is an essential component of a kitchen sink that allows for targeted water flow and increased flexibility in cleaning dishes, fruits, and vegetables. It typically consists of a hose, a spray head, and a trigger mechanism. Understanding the basic anatomy of a sprayer will help you navigate the replacement process effectively.

Signs that Indicate the Need for Sprayer Replacement

Before diving into the replacement process, it’s important to identify signs that indicate the sprayer needs to be replaced. These signs may include reduced water pressure, leaks from the hose or spray head, or a malfunctioning trigger. If you notice any of these issues, it’s time to replace your kitchen sink sprayer.

Tools and Materials Required

To successfully replace the sprayer on your kitchen sink, gather the following tools and materials:

Adjustable wrench

Slip-joint pliers

Teflon tape

Replacement sprayer kit

Having these items ready will ensure a smooth and efficient replacement process.

Step-by-Step Guide to Replacing the Sprayer

Turn off the water supply: Locate the shut-off valve underneath the sink and turn it off to prevent water flow.

Disconnect the old sprayer: Use slip-joint pliers to loosen the nut connecting the sprayer hose to the water supply line. Then, detach the sprayer hose from the faucet.

Remove the old sprayer: Unscrew the sprayer head counterclockwise to detach it from the hose.

Prepare the new sprayer: Wrap Teflon tape around the threads of the new sprayer head to ensure a watertight seal.

Attach the new sprayer: Screw the new sprayer head onto the hose clockwise until it is securely fastened.

Connect the new sprayer: Attach the sprayer hose to the water supply line and tighten the nut with slip-joint pliers.

Turn on the water supply: Slowly open the shut-off valve to allow water to flow back into the sink.

Test the new sprayer: Press the trigger on the sprayer to check if the water flows smoothly without any leaks.

Common Mistakes to Avoid

When replacing the sprayer on your kitchen sink, it’s crucial to avoid common mistakes that can lead to complications. Some common mistakes to avoid include overtightening the connections, failing to use Teflon tape for sealing, or neglecting to turn off the water supply before starting the replacement process. Taking care to avoid these mistakes will ensure a successful sprayer replacement.

Maintenance Tips for a Long-Lasting Sprayer

To prolong the lifespan of your newly replaced sprayer, follow these maintenance tips:

Regularly clean the sprayer head to remove mineral deposits and debris.

Check for any leaks or drips and promptly address them.

Avoid using harsh chemicals or abrasive materials that may damage the sprayer.

Inspect the hose and connections periodically for signs of wear or damage.

By incorporating these maintenance practices into your routine, you can enjoy a long-lasting and efficient sprayer for your kitchen sink.

Conclusion

In conclusion, replacing the sprayer on a kitchen sink is a manageable task that can be done by following the step-by-step instructions outlined in this article. By understanding the basics of a kitchen sink sprayer, identifying signs for replacement, and using the appropriate tools and materials, you can successfully replace the sprayer and restore the functionality of your sink.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

1. Can I replace the sprayer on my kitchen sink myself?

Yes, replacing the sprayer is a DIY task that can be done with basic tools and materials.

2. How often should I replace the sprayer on my kitchen sink?

The lifespan of a sprayer can vary depending on usage and maintenance. However, if you notice signs of wear or functionality issues, it’s a good idea to replace it.

3. Can I use any replacement sprayer kit for my kitchen sink?

It is recommended to use a replacement sprayer kit specifically designed for your kitchen sink model to ensure compatibility.

4. Do I need to hire a professional plumber for the sprayer replacement?

Hiring a professional plumber is not necessary for sprayer replacement unless you feel uncomfortable performing the task yourself.

5. How long does it take to replace the sprayer on a kitchen sink?

The replacement process can typically be completed within 30 minutes to an hour, depending on your familiarity with the task.

6. Is it necessary to turn off the main water supply before replacing the sprayer?

Yes, it is essential to turn off the main water supply before replacing the sprayer. This ensures that no water flows during the replacement process and prevents any potential leaks or water damage.

7. What should I do if the new sprayer is leaking after installation?

If you notice a leak after installing the new sprayer, check the connections to ensure they are tight. If the leak persists, try reapplying Teflon tape to the threads to create a better seal. If the issue continues, it may be necessary to consult a professional plumber for further assistance.

8. Can I replace the sprayer without removing the entire faucet?

In most cases, it is not necessary to remove the entire faucet to replace the sprayer. The sprayer is typically connected to the faucet with a separate hose, allowing for independent replacement. However, the specific design of your faucet may require different steps, so refer to the manufacturer’s instructions for guidance.

9. Are all kitchen sink sprayers universal?

Kitchen sink sprayers come in various styles and designs, and not all sprayers are universal. It’s crucial to check the compatibility of the replacement sprayer with your specific sink and faucet model. This information can usually be found in the product description or by contacting the manufacturer.

10. What can I do if the sprayer hose is too short?

If the replacement sprayer hose is shorter than the previous one, you may need to purchase an extension hose. Extension hoses are available in different lengths and can be easily connected to the existing hose to provide the necessary reach for your sprayer.

You may like to know more about:

How To Install Vintage Kitchen Sinks With Drainboards?

How Long Does Primal Kitchen Mayo Last?

Modern White Cabinet Kitchen Backsplash Ideas

If you like reading our articles, you can check our social media or our website for more page links.

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Connect Us Visit My Website: Kitchenkosmos - Equipment

[littlemssam]

New Mods & Mod Updates

As always delete old Mods Files and the localthumbcache, when updating my Mods!

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New small Mod & new Bug Fix

Small Lactose Intolerant Overhaul This small Mod edits the Plant Milk so it is useable for more Recipes, and it changes how Sims with the Lactose Intolerant Trait react to Food a bit.

Vampire Run Fix This Mod fixes Vampires not using the Vampiric Run, and played Vampires changing their preferred Walkstyle, when switching Households.

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Mod Updates

Foster Family Various Tweaks:

Increased the Duration potential Adoptives are visiting from 4 to 8 hrs.

Added Greeting Status to potential Adoptives, so you won't have to invite them in. They will more likely come in and interact with Foster Kids/Pets now.

Added a Send Home Interaction to potential Adoptives, since they now stay longer. This way you can send them Home with one Click.

Adopted Foster Kids will get the Son/Daughter Relationship added now and should show up in the Family Tree.

Mod Setting Option via Phone is only available, when a Sim has registered for the Foster Family Network.

Added new Cheat Menu (Shift Click) to Sims (Sims who registered for the Foster Family Network), where you can trigger the Foster Family Network Notifications to get Foster Kids/Pets.

Added new Cheat Menu (Shift Click) to all Kids/Pets ingame, where you can add already existing Kids/Pets in the World to become your Foster Kid/Pet.

Fixed an Issue with Foster Family Network Notifications for Cats, when you did not enable all Ages for them.

Vampire Powers | “Be able to eat Human Food”, “Enable own Mirror Reflection”, “Stop Hissing” and more Addon NPC Disable Special Walkstyle removes hidden Walkstyle Traits only from never played NPCs.

No Auto Food Grab after Cooking Fixed a small Issue with the Icon on the custom Get Leftover Interaction not showing up, when Choose Leftover is not installed.

Sul Sul Weather App Added Support for Ciudad Enamorada. Reworked Icons a bit. Script File is obsolete now. Pls remove.

Send Sims to Bed Added Support for Sleeping Bags

Social Activities (Visit Friends, Family and more) Fixed an Issue, where the Interactions got cancelled, when your Sim was on a Business Lot they own.

Random Small Mod Updates

Auto Brush Teeth Reworked Mod to make it compatible with EA's Bathroom/Kitchen Settings for Sinks. The Addon File "DisabledBrushTeethSinksWillAllowWashDishesOnly.ts4script" is obsolete because of that now, pls remove that File. I did keep my own "Allow/Disallow Brush Teeth" Options though, which you can still set via Cheat Debug Menu (Shift Click) in case the EA Settings don't work well for you. When you don't use EA's Settings or my Mod Settings, Sims will be allowed to use all Sinks however they like. The Addon "AfterEatingToo.ts4script" is changed to be compatible with the XML Injector now, and is changed into a Package File. Remove the Script File pls.

Auto Use Picnic Table when Eating Added Support for two new Picnic Tables from Lovestruck and Growing Together. Added an extra Addon File for "Umbrella Tables" from Base Game and various Packs.

Claim All The Things Added "Frying Pan", "Collectible Other/Treasure Map", "Canvas", and "SackLunch" to be supported

Prefer Leftover Added Addon for Bread to be blocked from autonomously Eating/Grabbing a Plate.

Release all Ghosts & Get Urn for Added the Interactions to Mailboxes (Shift Click), so you don't need to get Urns via Debug etc first.

Craft More Nectar Bottles and more When Crafting 5 Bottles, the Dynamic Skill loot for Nectar Making is multiplied by 1,5.

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Translations

Advanced Birth Certificate - Update of Dutch by Willowtree My Pets - Update of Dutch by Willowtree Online Learning System - Added Finnish by MaijaEllen

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[veraghost]

𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙄 𝙇𝙊𝙊𝙆 𝙊𝙉 𝙔𝘼 ! - 𝙅𝙐𝙅𝙐𝙏𝙎𝙐 𝙆𝘼𝙄𝙎𝙀𝙉

an upcoming exam can be stressful, especially when you have a hard time with memorization. lucky for you, your boyfriend seems to have a solution.

𝙋𝘼𝙄𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂: camboy!choso x innocent gf!reader

𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂!! 𝙈𝘿𝙉𝙄: fem!reader, established relationship, piercings, choking, overstimulation, detailed body descriptions, dirty talk, pet names, recording

𝙒𝙊𝙍𝘿 𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏: 3.5k

a/n: installation one of my first series, loosely based (aka one lyric) off of this song by Ariana Grande. i wrote this after a 7 hour shift + a nap, so i apologized if i missed anything proofreading, happy reading xoxo, lex

SERIES MASTERLIST

𝙇𝙀𝙎𝙎𝙊𝙉-𝙊𝙉𝙀.𝙈𝙋4

there are often times at university when you have questioned why you chose to become a nurse, especially when it comes to studying for biology exams. in the past, you've found ways to memorize the majority of what's given to you, walking into each assessment prepped and prepared, knowing you've done your best and you'll most likely receive an amazing grade. however, as you walk into your apartment, you don't even know where to begin. biology was never your strong suit, especially when it came to navigating people's bodies, finding small veins and understanding certain placements. the silver lining of your current situation, you had just under a month to prepare before the exam day, which meant time to create study sheets and cue cards to practice with.

as you set your bags down on the kitchen island with a deep sigh, you begin to piece together everything you need to do, the list slowly piling up in your head. "everything okay?" your boyfriend asks you, walking into the kitchen. you assume he was filming content in his room while you were gone to class, seeing as though he walks out of the bedroom in nothing but sweats, and judging by the look of it, his fans will be happy with what he's recorded. "yeah, no, i don't know choso, i forgot how killer biology was" you respond, utterly confused on how you should feel. sitting down on the barstools surrounding the table, head in your hands, you grab your ipad from your bag and begin writing your to-do list.

the list is extensive and almost all-consuming, as you take in everything. leaning over your frame, choso is reading the list, eyes trailing down the screen, brows slowly rising as he realizes just how much you have to deal with. "damn, that's... a lot", he says, looking down softly at you, "what do you think you're gonna start with?". you debate in your head, genuinely wondering what to do. "probably start with the bigger stuff, that seems smart right? begin with broad topics and slowly get more specific as i understand the content." you decide, finding a starting point to your dilemma. choso hands you a plate with apple slices, yogurt and granola, with a simple smile, before settling himself on the couch a few feet away from you.

"so, what're you starting with then? i mean there's a bunch of large topics, might as well pick one and start as soon as possible" you hear him say, taking a bite out of his own food. glancing at you hunched over the island. "probably mapping the body for veins, where's safe to place needles is iv's," you say, tracing your own arms as you speak, "and then i'll move onto bodily reactions to certain things, mostly if the body rejects a needle or medication, and how it'll affect the patient."

placing your plate in the sink, satiated for now, you saunter over to the couch, sitting in the spot next to choso. "were you filming while i was gone?" you ask, eyeing him up and down before he nods. "at least i was trying to, i have no ideas and don't wanna just show me jerking off and that's it you know, i got popular for doing more than that, but i'm running out of ideas." he replies, looking just as defeated as you did a second ago. it's understandable tho, he's been at it nonstop for months, and the fruits of his labour have been nothing but rich, being able to pay for rent while also saving for his own degree.

the room falls silent for awhile, a comfortable silence as you begin to trace your arms, struggling to find your own veins. choso is watching you, following your finger up and down your arms. you catch notice of this, and also of how pale your boyfriend is, an idea popping into your head.

"choso... could i use you to study?" you ask him, innocent eyes looking into his. "i mean, look at your arms, i can see almost every vein without having to even squint, your the perfect candidate to help me ace this exam" you continue, basically pleading with him to agree. you can tell he's debating in, listing the pros and cons in his head. you know he doesn't like physical affection much, especially when dealing with his own assignments, but he'd be doing you such a big favour. he shrugs before putting his plate on the coffee table next to him, before pulling you onto his lap.

"i'm assuming this is a yes, baby?" you say, shifting a bit in his lap to get comfortable. a light sigh is heard from your boyfriend, before he agrees, letting your fingers go up and down his arms. you move the short sleeves of his t-shirt exposing his shoulders to you, letting you see more of him. "can you take this off, it keeps falling back off your shoulder, plus then i can use my supplies to make little marks to show where i could put needles and everything into a patient" you say, slightly tugging at the bottom of his shirt, before he pulls it off completely.

fuck, you thought, forgetting just how strong your boyfriend was. although he doesn't look it choso was built. big arms that help you carry groceries into the apartment, big shoulders hiding under every shirt he owns, and a perfect set of abs to top everything off. blushing lightly, you thank him quietly before getting up and grabbing your bag, pulling out a handful of markers to begin mapping his body out. choso is sitting there silently, watching you work meticulously. this was one of his favourite parts about you, the way you fall silent in focus, looking so innocent compared to him.

it wasn't that choso was bad per say, he just looked so different from you. other than the size difference between you both, he was also into different things, his arms adorned in tattoos, a tongue piercing hiding in his mouth, and nipple piercings, his smudged eyeliner, his dark, wild hair, normally worn in ponytails or buns, let loose in the comfort of his home. in comparison to you, he looked like someone who belonged elsewhere.

the amount of moving you're doing on his lap, the friction between your bodies, the heat the proximity creates, becomes unbearable. you're so deep in thought, making sure every mark on his body is placed so perfectly, you don't even notice the growing erection in your boyfriends pants until you hear a small groan. looking at him, he grounds his hips into yours, making a red blush appear on your face.

"i'm sorry baby, i know but you're just so pretty on top of me, i couldn't help it." choso says, sounding so honest, as if he wasn't the one who pulled you onto his lap a half hour ago. "please just give me a kiss, i promise i'll let you go back to work afterwards" he says, tilting your chin before leaning in, a small peck on your lips. one turns into two, then three, and before you know it, the marker has fallen into his lap, choso's holding your waist, and there's not a thought in your head.

breaking the contact between your lips with a sigh, you try and find your marker, lifting off choso's lap just enough to hunt for it. looking around frantically, you feel a pulse between your legs, then another, and another. you realize this feeling isn't going away any time soon, and neither is choso's fully grown erection, still painfully stuck in his sweats. giving up on your hunt, you place all your weight back onto your boyfriend, hearing him suck in a breath.

"baby, remember how you said you needed to study bodily reactions?" he asks you curiously, moving you slightly, hands gently on your helps. you nod silently, knowing if you open your mouth it'll only be moans from how sinful he feels underneath you. "do you think - just maybe - some reactions are like this?" he says, before pushing you further into his lap, letting you feel every inch that's hiding under layers of clothing. you let out a light moan, wanting nothing but more, more of him, more of this.

"i mean probably, right?" you respond, before feeling another grind into your core, riling you up even more. choso smiles, so kindly at you while giving you another drag against his lap. lifting you up, he starts walking you both to the bedroom, placing you down gently on the bed, standing between your legs.

"cho, i..." you start, not knowing how to bring this up to him. even though you and choso have known each other since freshman year of uni, you started dating after becoming roommates. originally, you lived with a few of other friends, before moving in together a handful of months after getting together.

"what baby, if you don't want this we don't have to-"

"i'm a virgin", you tell him hiding your face from his gaze, "actually i haven't done... anything with anyone," you say. god you wanted to die in this moment, basically ruining the entire mood. if only you had kept your mouth shut. choso is silent, making you even more nervous.

"oh baby, why didn't you tell me sooner? we've been dating for months and yet this is the first time you've bothered to say something." he replies after a few beats, grabbing both your cheeks so delicately, wiping the tears that started to well in your eyes from panic. you breathe a sigh of relief, thankful you chose someone so soft and loving. "i didn't want you to look at me differently, i mean, all of our friends have done it, except for me. as much as they love me i know they probably judge me for it, and i didn't want that to be you." you say, tears coming back just as quickly as they were wiped away.

"no, no, sweetheart, never. i chose you as you are, no matter the past, you have or the things that i still don't know, you're my baby." he says, bringing your head to his stomach, your arms wrapping around his waist. you can still feel his erection to your surprise, thinking the moment was over. "i don't mean to ruin this moment, but did you want to..?" he trails off, looking at you with something in his eyes, something dark and almost primal. and truthfully you do, you trust choso so much, he would never hurt you.

"baby i need to hear you say it, i need to know you fully want this" he says, voice sounding so raw, like he's holding himself back from just pouncing on you.

"yes choso, i want to, wanna feel good. but can we go... slow?" you reply, still feeling a bit jittery. it's not that you didn't want to fuck choso, you knew he was good in bed, the hundreds of fans he has on twitter speaks for itself, but this was different, this was personal.

"of course baby, anything for you." and then it's back on like nothing ever happened in the first place, he's leaning over to capture your lips in a kiss, gentle yet consuming, making all thoughts wander out of your head. pushing you further onto the bed, leaning you back against the pillows, his weight a comforting, before something shifts. the kisses become more frantic, and then animalistic, both of you just tongue and teeth, hands roaming everywhere, his hands on your waist, then to your hips before moving to the hem of your shirt, slightly tugging to up.

breaking the kiss, you throw your shirt somewhere on the floor before pulling him back to you, hungry for more of this, more of him. choso is just as hungry as you, grabbing and groping every inch of skin he can get to, before moving his kisses to your jawline and down your neck, kissing every square inch of you. the kisses turn into nips, and then he's sucking a hickey into your neck, one that's sure to come out dark and pretty, adorning your beautiful skin. upon feeling the slight sting, you let out a gasp, learning something new about your body.

"fuck baby, you bruise so easily, so simple to mark you as mine." he mumbles mindlessly, before making a second further down near your collarbone, and another right on top of one of your breasts. he seals each mark with a kiss before sitting up and unbuttoning your jeans, throwing them on the floor to join your shirt. "is this ok? do you wanna stop at all?" he asks, making sure your still set on this.

instead of answering, you grab his face before pulling him down for another kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist, letting him feel the heat thats coming from your core. his hands start to play with your panties, before slowly slipping them off your legs along with your bra.

he sits up, taking in you, completely naked, so fucking pretty.

"hey, don't stare for too long, but thank you, cho" you say, a sheepish smile on your face before your arms start to try and hide yourself from him, getting embarrassed from his stare. "don't you dare hide yourself from me baby, not when i'm gonna make you feel so good." he says, pulling your arms away and pinning them down by your head. he fits both your wrists into one of his hands before lightly tracing your body before reaching your pussy.

"oh baby, look at her, she's basically begging for me to touch her." he says, basically to himself, before putting one finger to your entrance, feeling just how wet and messy you are, hours worth of teasing finally building up to this. "you better pay attention, this is how to body reacts to pleasure", reminding you on what got you into this position, before taking his finger and tracing around your clit, making you gasp. "oh so sensitive, haven't even touched you properly yet" he notes, before finally rubbing your clit, slowly, watching your reaction.

your so quiet, almost shy to show him your pleasure, not wanting to sound slutty. he's treating you so carefully, a drastic change to how he was kissing you just a few minutes ago. he's tracing your entrance again now, gaging how you react to his slow push past the first rings of muscle, and your gasping again, back arching up in pleasure as your eyes close. it doesn't hurt, but feels weird. his middle figure fully sat in you before it pulls back, leaving you empty.

he watches your face, before plunging his finger back in again, eliciting a small moan from your lips, before getting another, and another. you understand now why your friends won't shut up about sex, it feels so different, and yet so fucking good. you can feel something in your stomach, feeling so good and warm, and as choso continues his magic, the feeling slowly builds.

choso isn't even doing that much, he doesn't even say anything, so in awe of your reactions to the simplest ministrations. when you seem comfortable with one, he adds a second, and that's when he sees your body react so wholly, a louder moan coming from you, he speeds up, allowing you to feel everything. and god, you look gorgeous, eyes tightly shut, back slightly arched from the bed, mouth open, moans and sighs of pleasure falling from your lips. his other hand has long since discarded you wrists, allowing you to claw at his shoulders and back as he decides to test the waters a bit more.

he lets his hand wander a bit, not wanting to make his actions to obvious, before speeding up a little more and stopping his hand on your neck, thumb and fingers resting lightly on your pulse points. you don't even notice when he tightens his grip on your neck a bit, so caught up in the pleasure, his thumb finding your clit, and that's when you wake from your trace. eyes opening wide, a loud gasp coming from your mouth.

"feels good, doesn't it baby? didn't even notice me choking your pretty little neck. my pretty girl, so overwhelmed she doesn't even know what to do" he says, a small pout on his face before tightening his grip a bit more.

"feels so g- good, wanna feel like this forever cho, just y- you and me never leaving this room." you moan, dumb off his fingers "can you go even tighter? feels so goooood" eyes rolling into the back of your head when he fulfills your request. he's so focused on you, completely forgetting about his own erection, you just look so angelic. he adds a third finger, noting the little twinge of pain that shows up on your face, keeping his pace nonetheless. the strange sensation thats your stomach becomes so much more prominent, and you can feel yourself losing control.

"awh baby, are you gonna cum? gonna cum all over my fingers like a good girl? yeah c'mon, cum for me, get my fingers all messy" he ebbs you on, watching as pleasure consumes you completely, body spasming and exhaustion paints your face. when you open your eyes, you see choso sitting up between your legs, fingers in his mouth. "you're so sweet baby, it's fucking intoxicating, wanna taste you" he says, licking every inch of his fingers clean.

"can i taste you baby? i'll be extra gentle with how sensitive you must be. came so prettily on my fingers for me" he says, slowly moving his lips to yours, letting you taste yourself slightly on his tongue, before he's trailing his lips down again, taking a your nipple into his mouth. you gasp, body jolting upwards from his piercing, cold on your skin.

his lips trail down, down down, until his head is right between your thighs, looking up at you so innocently, silently asking if he can taste you, and you silently respond.

everything is so much more enhanced, if you weren't sensitive before, you definitely are now. as his tongue circles your clit, piercing creating such a strange sensation, your hands fly straight to his hair, moaning. "oh cho, feels so good, makin' me feel so good fu- fuck!"

you can feel him smile before he takes your clit fully into his mouth, letting a finger circle your entrance yet again. everything is so hazy, your eyes blurry, mind foggy, and yet you wouldn't have it any other way. he's so loud, sucking and licking at you so obscenely making such a fucking mess. he's so obsessed on you and your release, he doesn't even notice his hips rutting into the bed beneath him, solely focused on making you cum on his tongue.

it takes you a fraction of the time to cum again, and has he tastes you fully for the first time, he moans, groaning when your release coats his tongue, and it's good that he cums, right in his pants. he's so drunk off your pussy, you have to push his heaad away from your pussy, wanting more, wanting to memorize how good you taste on his tongue. it's only when he's finally straight in the head he feels so sticky his pants feel, silently cursing under his breath.

"fuck baby, why didn't we do this sooner?" he asks you with a laugh, pulling you onto his chest after finding you a shirt to put on, and new pants for him. everything is so calm now, hearing his heartbeat, the faint lub-dup echoing in his chest. you shrug, genuinely not knowing why you didn't let anything to further than kissing if you knew it would be like that.

you both sit in comfortable silence for a bit, before an idea comes to your boyfriends head. "baby, why don't we record ourselves when we do this?" he asks you, eyes bright and brows raised.

"why the fuck would we do that?" you say, sounding a bit meaner than you meant to. i mean, the boy in front of you just made you cum, twice, and now wants to make porn to post to his twitter of it?

"no baby, so that you can use it to study" he says, and you come to the realization you said that aloud. you ponder. it for a bit, not a horrible idea. you'd have a visual to study off of, and could use the videos to draw diagrams of the body for different tests and assignments, while also leaving timestamps at certain points to describe how something felt for your upcoming exam.

"sure, why the fuck not? we're young, and it's not like anyone else is gonna see these" you say, looking at him for approval. "right, it's a win-win, i get to make you cum, and you get to learn about the human body and all of it's amazing sensations." he replies, reaching out a hand for you to shake. sealing the deal with a firm handshake, you both grow silent before falling asleep, still on choso's chest.

surely these videos will be for educational purposes only... right?

© veraghost 2024. All work belongs to @veraghost. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms. This includes themes and pinned.

[honeekyuu]

take the edge off. [suna rintarou x f!reader] chapter five.

>>You struggle with your weight and body image, but Suna extensively and thoroughly undoes all the damage done by other guys.

or

You haven't gotten laid in over a year, and your best friend takes it upon himself to fix that for you.<<

series status: [complete]

previous. || masterlist.

a/n: welcome to the last installment of this fic!!!! i hope you all enjoyed the fic <3 and i will CERTAINLY be writing for sunarin again, as he is in fact my entire world :')

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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“Where are you going-”

“You have to leave-”

“Y/n, come back -”

“My plans are all ruined!” 

You slide around the bar in the kitchen, barely managing to evade Suna’s grasp. He smacks his hands down on the counter, laughing as he watches you slip and slide across the tile, just out of reach.

“Why are you running!” He yells through his laughter. You just scowl at him.

“I can’t believe you’ve done this, Rin – I had a plan!” You gesture at yourself in exasperation. “I look stupid!”

“I’m a fan, personally,” He says, beaming at you. You make to escape, but he matches you, trapping you behind the bar. You stomp a foot.

“I had everything figured out! I was gonna dress up real pretty and surprise you – I look like someone’s grandmother-”

“Maybe I’m into sexy grandmothers-” He cuts off, barking out a laugh when you cut him a glare.

“I’m leaving you.”

“ Don’t even- ” He reaches across the counter for you, giving up and chasing you through the kitchen when you jump away. “- joke about that, you fuck -”

You scream, making a beeline through the living room and down the hall. You slide into the bathroom, reaching for the door and trying to throw it shut, but Suna just slams a hand on it and pushes his way into the room, trapping you. You scream helplessly, flailing when he catches you around the waist and lifts you off your feet.

“My beautiful lingerie! All of my plans!”

When he laughs in your ear, warm and close, your resolution cracks, and you slump in his arms. He hums, pleased, when you wrap your arms and legs around him and cling tight.

“Did you go out and buy lingerie, baby?”

“Yes.” You scowl, letting him walk you over to the sink to set you down on the edge.

“And you wanted to surprise me with it?”

“Yes,” You say, leaning away to glare up at him. “And now I’m gonna return it all. Jerk.”

“What’s this attitude for, huh?” He clicks his teeth at you, shaking his head with a grin. “You must have really missed me.”

You melt a little when he leans in close, his green eyes flicking between yours and then down to your mouth.

“Right?”

You warm and nod quietly, unable to tear your eyes away. 

“ Right. ”

His lips are wonderfully familiar on yours.

You sigh, cupping his face with both hands and breathing him in. When he sets his hands on your waist, his grip is tight, seeking. He pulls you flush to his chest, tilting his head and slotting himself perfectly against you.

“ Missed you ,” He whispers, nipping lightly at your bottom lip. The cold of his lip ring steals a bit of your breath away.

“ I missed you, too, ” You breathe, sliding your hands down his chest to curl under the hem of his t-shirt. And then you pull away with a grimace. “But you are incredibly airport-dirty.”

He lifts a brow, pushing the palms of his hands against your bare thighs and under your bathrobe. You shiver, and he scans you with a knowing smile. “And you’re so incredibly clean?”

“Of course I am,” You argue, barely holding out. “Don’t you see my stupid outfit? I’m bed-ready.”

“Bed-ready,” He repeats with a nod and a smile that causes molten heat to pool just under your navel. “Can I make you more bed-ready?”

You roll your eyes, tugging at his shirt and pulling it clean over his head. “That was corny.” Your voice shakes, betraying how nervous he makes you, after all this time.

Suna says nothing, just leaning down and pushing his lips hard against yours.

You really did miss him.

“Take this off,” He says, pulling the knot on your robe free and shoving it off of your shoulders. You shed it without a single ounce of resistance, simply too desperate to be close to him.

The cold air makes you shudder, your old camisole and pajama shorts not nearly enough coverage for the air-conditioned apartment. Suna pulls back, scanning you. And then he sighs, lifting his eyes to the ceiling with a pained smile.

“ This is torture ,” He breathes, and his gaze is heated when he meets your eyes again. “You’re torture.”

“You chose me.” You give him a shallow shrug. “You deal with the consequences.”

He grins easily, backing away to turn the shower on. “With pleasure.” He nods at your clothes before reaching for his belt. “Off.”

With only a bit of hesitation, you pull your cami over your head and toss it on the floor. Suna watches with great attention as you hop off the sink and drop your shorts slowly. When you look back, he’s made no move to undress himself, hands stilled on his belt as his gaze locks on the length of your legs, teeth tugging harshly on his lip ring.

“Distracted?” You tease, stepping free of your clothes and reaching for him. He blinks, swallowing hard as you tug on his belt loops.

“I genuinely can’t remember what I was just doing.”

You giggle to yourself, the clink of his belt echoing in the bathroom as you undo his jeans. “Don’t worry,” You breathe, shivering when his cold hands land on the heated skin of your waist. “I remember enough for both of us.”

His jeans and boxers fall to his ankles, and his head falls back when you wrap your hand very carefully around his cock, already half-hard.

“ Fuck, I missed you,” He groans, head leaned on the wall.

You lean up, pressing your lips to his throat and smiling when a quiet moan falls past his lips.

“ Get in the shower, Rintarou ,” You whisper, stroking him once before stepping away from him.

He shudders and stares up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly to regain his bearings.

“Yes, ma’am,” He mumbles, stepping shakily into the glass booth. You follow after, grinning smugly up at him. 

“I think I like when you listen to me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Noted, asshole.”

You giggle together, the moment gentle under the water.

You wash his hair in silence, only sputtering playfully when soap gets in your mouth and laughing into his ear when he drags you close and shoves his shampoo-covered head into your face.

Suna Rintarou makes it as far as combing conditioner through his hair before he stops trying to keep his hands to himself.

You’re scrubbing your body when you feel his fingers dancing across the underside of your breasts.

“Can I help you?” You ask, depositing your loofa back on its hook.

He says nothing, gaze simply tracking the line of soap that falls between your breasts. His eyes flick to yours, green and heated, and it warms something dangerous in you.

He presses you back harshly against the tile, mouth urgent on yours, and you blame the week of  distance for how easily you give in to him.

“Rin,” You whisper, relishing the taste of him after so long apart.

He shivers at the way his name rolls off your tongue, pressed against his.

“ Missed you ,” He mumbles, nudging your thighs apart with his knee. You whimper when he wraps his fingers around the back of your leg, lifting it so he can drag it around his hip. He traps you against the wall, rolling his tongue across yours and moaning in time with you when his cock brushes against your folds.

“ Please, Rin, ” You swallow, latching your fingers into his hair and holding him close.

The sigh he breathes into your mouth when the head of his cock slips past your entrance is depraved, desperate. Your eyes roll into the back of your head when he bottoms out, his hips pressed tight against yours.

Quiet envelops you, only your shared, ragged breaths heard under the rush of water. Suna drops his forehead to your shoulder, and you cling to him, fingers tight in his hair. 

“ I love you ,” He murmurs against your throat, sucking the air clean from your lungs.

“I love you, too,” You croak, gasping when he pulls away to press his forehead to yours and draws his hips back. He snaps them forward, and your stomach lurches with pleasure. “Oh, my God, Rin-”

“I love you.” He’s relentless, surging his hips against yours and slamming you back against the wall. You barely manage to hold his gaze, every nerve ending in your body drawn to him. “I think I’ve been in love with you an embarrassingly long time.” 

You swallow a whimper, digging your nails into his back and watching when he shivers. “I love you, Rintarou. I’m yours.”

“Yeah?” He laughs breathily, eyes searching you. “Promise?”

“‘m not goin’ anywhere, Rin.” Your voice takes on a whiny edge, needy and wanton. “I’ve been yours a long, long time.” 

You keep his eyes on yours, your meaning trapped in the sliver of space between your lips.

That you’ve been his longer than he’d realized. Longer than you’d realized.

That the start of this thing between you had never been the start at all, but the end of something that had been building for longer than either of you had thought.

Suna’s eyes drop to your lips as he sucks in a breath, the next drag of his hips drawing a quiet moan out of you, his mouth brushing against yours as he whispers-

“ Move in with me .”

Your eyes fly open, and the laugh that rips from your throat is full of surprise.

“ What? ” 

His eyes glint with excitement, and he rails his cock into you, pinning your hips to the wall.

“You heard me.”

You throw your head against the wall, laughing gleefully. “You’re fucking insane, Suna Rintarou.”

“Come on, Y/n-” He grunts when your nails scratch against his scalp, cock twitching inside you. “You basically already live here-”

“That’s different-”

“How?” He pants over you, his breath growing shallow and his pace becoming irregular. “What’s so different?”

“You really want to have this conversation right now-”

He grips your face, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers, and you fall for him that much more.

“I already have you,” He breathes, eyes glazing over briefly when he drives his cock into you. “I have your clothes in my closet-”

You shudder at the force he’s using, the coil in your navel forming urgently and all at once.

“-I have your shit all over my apartment -”

You think of everything you have here – your paperwork on his dining table, your groceries in his fridge – and realize he’s right.

“-I have you in my bed every night, Y/n,” He gasps when you clench around him, your name coming out in a desperate groan. “I want you here. I want you everywhere. I told you.” 

“ Rin ,” You cry, pulling him close and burying your face in his neck. “Rin, I-”

“Move in with me. Let’s make it official.” He breathes it into your ear, shaky and vulnerable, and you’re dragged to the very edge of oblivion. His hands slide up your spine, drawing you up into him as he whispers against your skin. 

“ Come for me, baby .” 

Oblivion feels a lot like Suna Rintarou.

When you finally come down, minutes later, the shower’s starting to run cold. Suna’s forehead rests against yours, breath mingling in ragged gasps in the space between you. You realize when his shoulders sag with relief that he’d come soon after you had, warm and familiar inside you.

You reach up, cupping his face and bringing him in for a kiss. He smiles against you.

“ Is that a yes? ” He murmurs into your mouth, breathing out a laugh when you nip at his lip ring.

Suna Rintarou has always made everything so easy.

“I suppose it is,” You beam up at him. “I guess I can start using my old rent money to buy more lingerie.”

His smile feels like home.

“Oh, yes,” He nods, reaching back blindly to shut the water off. “Yes, I think I like this idea.”

“Wait-” You laugh, letting him drag you out of the shower. “We’re not done showering-”

He hoists you up with little issue, carrying you down the hall to the bedroom. 

“We’re gonna need another one in a few hours, anyway.”

It becomes quite apparent over the course of the night that Suna likes the lingerie you picked out for him very much . 

–

A week later, you and Osamu close the shop for the entire day in order to set up for Haru’s party. The boy in question tries very hard to help with the organization, but you lock him out just as he’s arriving. He stands at the door like a creep while the two of you and Mayuri run around putting up streamers and decorating tables.

Finally, it’s Osamu who has the bright idea to send Mayuri out there with him.

“Just keep him busy, I’m beggin’ here,” The twin says, ushering the girl out the back entrance so that Haru doesn’t try to elbow his way in through the front. She flushes, and you’re quick to meet Osamu’s eyes, the two of you nothing more than a couple of nosy aunties at heart.

You watch as Mayuri appears behind Haru and awkwardly beckons him out to the street, but it’s Haru’s nervous blush that has you and Osamu scheming about how to get them to admit their feelings almost an hour after they’re gone.

“We could always just lock them in the storage room,” He suggests eventually, and you laugh while unloading bottles of champagne at a table by the window.

“I’m pretty sure that’s considered employer harassment, Samu.”

“Damn.” He shakes his head. “These labor laws are gonna keep them from their happy ending, I swear.”

You cackle, moving to the storage room to find the boxes of champagne flutes he’d ordered. “We should leave them be. They’ll figure it out in their own time.”

“ Ew- ” He calls from the other side of the wall. “ What have you done with my scheming Y/n?”

“She found love and companionship?” You try, digging through packages absentmindedly.

“ Ew! ” 

“Now, now, Samu – be nice or I’ll tell Y/n all of the disgusting, lovesick things you’ve ever said about Yachi. ”

You perk up, Suna’s voice drawing you in like a moth to a flame. 

He’s standing at the front door, fending off Osamu’s attack of streamer rolls and party cups.

“Rin,” You breathe, flushing warmly. 

He winks, immediately hit in the side of the head by a rolled up tablecloth. Osamu laughs, reaching for more projectiles while evading the swing Suna’s aimed at him.

“What are you even doing here? Don’t you have a job?”

“I took the afternoon off to help you fucks set up for the party, but instead I find myself being attacked-” He catches Osamu around the neck, and the two almost knock over a few tables on their way to the ground.

You type out a quick text before moving to stack champagne flutes calmly on the other side of the room.

[1:35 PM]

You : our boyfriends are brawling in the store and ruining all the decor

Hitoka : on it

It’s mere moments before the bell above the door is jingling, a tiny blonde there with one hand on her hip and a fiery look in her eye.

“Miya Osamu.”

Osamu rolls off of Suna with the speed of a former athlete, standing at attention. “Hi, babe.” He smiles breathlessly, reaching up to fix his clothes and hair. 

Yachi smiles dangerously back at him. “Are you letting Y/n do all the work for the party?”

He swallows, shaking his head. Suna stands lazily behind him, snickering.

“ Someone’s obedient. ”

You call out from the table without turning back, a smile tugging at your lips as you stack flutes. “Rintarou-”

He’s at your side in an instant. “Hello, my sweet, lovely, perfect girlfriend. How can I help?”

You hand him a pack of tablecloths without a single word, and he rushes off to work. Yachi has Osamu doing the same on the other side of the shop, and you join her at the door with a side hug.

“Thanks for the backup,” You shoot her a stage-whisper, and she giggles back.

“I like being in charge of tall men. They’re afraid of us.”

The boys each groan in despair but continue to decorate nonetheless.

–

The shop is ready a few hours later, catered food set out along the wall and the cafe tables converted into standing cocktail tables. You and Osamu man your individual bars, thankful for the bartending elective you’d taken together in college.

The Black Jackals all pile through the door together, bringing with them some of their own friends. Their manager and coach come, too, smiling at the tasteful MSBY merchandise hanging around the shop.

Under yours and Osamu’s constant updates, Mayuri ensures she and Haru are the last through the door, everyone cheering and clapping for the new MSBY hire as he blushes a deep scarlet. Mayuri starts to move away from him so that the floor is all his, but Haru’s quick to latch onto her hand, dragging her back to him with a shy flick of his eyes to hers.

You meet Osamu’s eyes across the room, and he just nods in approval. Suna materializes behind the bar with you, one hand on your waist.

“He’s really growing up.”

You smile at the pair, watching Haru pull Mayuri around the room with him while he greets people. You remember the day he interviewed for you, freshly 18 and a nervous bounce in his knee. He’s not all that different now. “He’s still a kid, though, don’t you think?”

“Aren’t we all?”

You hum fondly, attention caught by the flash of orange that’s bounding up to the bar.

“Hey, Heartbreaker,” Hinata says, smiling sweetly down at you and leaning across the counter for a hug.

“Shou,” You greet him, squeezing him before pulling back. “Want something to drink?”

“Well,” He laughs. “I was going to ask for a cocktail, but I think I’ll just pour myself some champagne over there.” He gestures back toward the table you’d set up earlier. You blink, confused, and the ginger is glancing with amusement over your shoulder.

You look back, finding Suna leaning conspicuously against the wall and scrolling on his phone. He glances suspiciously at you and then at Hinata, clearly trying not to seem like a possessive boyfriend.

You laugh, rolling your eyes and turning back to your friend. “He’s a grown man, Shou – I promise he’ll be fine.” You take his order and get to making his drink, Hinata walking up and down the bar with you to make conversation.

“Are you upset that we’re stealing Haru from you?”

“Why? You got another part-timer I can hire?”

“Well, uh – I do know someone moving here soon to finish up school.” His flush is bright like his hair, and it gives you pause.

“ Who ?” You ask, a smile tugging at your lips knowingly.

Hinata rolls his eyes. “You know who. There’s a team that wants him, but the coach wants him to get his degree first.”

You furrow a brow. “I’ve never heard of that happening before.”

He nods, taking the drink from you with a smile. “It’s rare, but it happens sometimes. He’s not too happy about it, but…”

“But…” Your smile is back. “I’m guessing his choice of school had a little something to do with one of the current Black Jackals?”

Hinata sips nervously from his drink. “Somethin’ like that.”

You nod, wiping down the bar with feigned disinterest. “And I’m guessing he wouldn’t mind a part-time job across from their home gym?”

The ginger swallows, staring down into his cup as he murmurs again. “ Somethin’ like that .”

You beam at him. “Send him our application.”

He wanders off not long after that, mumbling ‘ Later, Heartbreaker ’ as he goes.

Suna’s at your side instantly. “What was that about?”

You nudge him, leaning up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “That, my sweet, jealous boy-” You grin when he scowls. “-was about Kageyama Tobio.”

Realization dawns on him, and he breathes out a sigh. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” You laugh. “ Oh . Dumbass.”

He flushes in that way you love so much and gestures across the room to where the twins are bickering at the other bar. “I feel that I am suddenly needed in that general area…”

“Oh, I’m sure,” You laugh, full of endearment as you watch him go.

Your moment of peace lasts about three minutes, interrupted by a flushed, excited Haru.

“Hey, Boss!” He beams at you, only a little shy when you level him with a fond smile.

“Hi, Haru. Enjoying the party?” Your eyes flick to the death grip he still has on Mayuri, their fingers interlocked now. He doesn’t notice, but she does, her ears burning a bright red. You just smile knowingly and turn back to the oblivious boy between you.

“This is completely insane, Boss – The entire team is here! The manager and coach, too! And a bunch of random people who keep saying hi to me!”

You laugh brightly, making them both a cocktail of your choice and watching as they sip at it with enjoyment. “Welcome to the inner circle, Haru.” You cut a glance to the girl at his side. “You know, everyone gets a plus-one…”

Mayuri warms, and Haru sees it now, but only because she’s starting to slip her hand out of his shyly. He turns to her, holding tight and bringing her back.

“You heard her,” He says, looking Mayuri straight in the eye. She stares up at him, caught off guard, and you turn away, giving them a moment while you wipe some clean glasses dry. 

When you turn back, they’re gone again, hands clasped more naturally between them. You shake your head, grinning to yourself while you wash a few more dishes. 

“That was pretty sweet of you.” 

You glance up at the voice, finding an unfamiliar man on the other end of it. He smiles down at you, handsome in a classy way.

“Aw, it’s nothing,” You smile, waving him off. “They’ve been dancing around each other a while – driving me and my co-owner insane.” 

The man laughs, picking up the makeshift cocktail menus you and Osamu had created for the event. He scans it, humming. “Can I get…” He laughs. “Isn’t it supposed to be called a ‘ Sex on the Beach ’?”

You grin, grabbing bottles for the shop’s spinoff – Sex on the Boardwalk – with very little explanation.

“That one was Atsumu’s idea, unfortunately. It’s got about three more types of alcohol than usual.”

The guy nods understandingly. “I’ve only talked to him a few times, but that seems about right.”

“How’d you meet him?”

“Oh, I’m a friend of Bokuto’s,” He says, shrugging. “He saw me struggling at the gym and decided to take me under his wing.”

You glance at the mountain that is Bokuto Koutarou and nod simply. “I would expect nothing less of him.” You see the look he’s giving you, one of intrigue, so you explain. “I grew up with Atsumu and his brother – my co-owner.”

He hums, thanking you as you slide the drink to him. He winces on the first sip. “That’s painful.”

You point at the glass. “Finish that and you won’t remember having sex on a boardwalk, either.”

His laugh is full, warm.

It’s only when he meets your eyes that you realize there’s an odd glint in them. One you’re not used to seeing so genuinely from someone who’s not Suna.

“So, uh…” He starts, taking another sip. “I hope it’s not too forward, but I was wondering-”

Oh.

“-ou’re single…? Or…” 

You blink, surprised. “Oh.”

He blinks back. “Oh?”

“Oh-” You laugh. “Sorry, shit. You caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting that.”

You’re not sure if you should be laughing at the irony of Suna not hovering behind you for the singular time that he really should be, or if you should be cursing Bokuto for continuing to invite random people to these events.

The guy smiles in disbelief. “I’m sure you get it all the time.”

You stare. “Not… really, no?”

“Really?” He furrows a brow. “You’re beautiful.” 

You smile, warm. “Thank you, that’s really kind of you.”

He hears the meaning in what you don’t say – that you don’t flirt back. “Ah, I see-”

“Yeah, that’s-” You look across the room to Suna, finding that he’s already watching you. His eyes are dark, and you realize belatedly that it had taken too long for you to notice this man’s advances.

You give him a look that you hope conveys your innocence and continue to point him out. “That’s my boyfriend right there.”

He follows your gaze, and you watch the glower Suna’s giving you pass over to this poor, unsuspecting man.

“Oh-” He says, laughing nervously. “Damn. I was kinda hoping it wasn’t the scariest guy in the room.”

“Tough luck on that one,” You grin sheepishly. “Maybe if you finish that drink, you won’t remember this moment.”

He throws back half of the drink good-naturedly and then joins your laughter. “Well, please excuse any overstep I might have made. And please tell him not to beat me up.”

“You’re fine,” You wave him off. “It was good to meet you.”

“You, too,” He smiles politely, and then he nods carefully at Suna, who’s starting to make his way over. “He’s a real lucky guy.”

You warm. “I’ll be sure to let him know.”

Suna’s in the newly emptied spot before you’re done speaking, his eyes burning holes into the man’s back.

“Hi, my sweet, jealous boy.”

Suna’s eyes are sharp when they find yours.

“Was that also about Kageyama Tobio?”

You throw your head back, laughing, and lean toward him with a grin.

“Would you believe me if I said I had absolutely no idea he was flirting until it was too late?”

He watches you for a moment before sighing, dropping his head with a groan.

“Yes, of course I would. I already knew that.”

You beam up at him. “He said you were a very lucky man, Suna Rintarou.”

His eyes glint with something wicked when he looks at you. “Yeah? Want me to show him how lucky?”

You roll your eyes, leaning away to make him a drink, and Suna watches you for a moment.

“He wasn’t rude or anything, right?”

You glance at him with lifted brows. “Not at all, why?”

“Just checking.” He looks away, and you see him meeting Atsumu and Osamu’s eyes across the room. He nods once, and the twins relax, each returning to their respective partners.

You watch with amazement. “Have you three always been that way?”

“You don’t notice much, do you?”

You suppose you don’t.

–

The next day, you linger outside Suna’s shop nervously, holding a bag of Thai food. You tug nervously at the hem of your dress, adjusting it over and over again while you stand there. 

Suna had bought it for you while on his trip –  a deep green thing that’s silky and snug against your body. It complements his eyes, the color. And, although this is technically your first date with him, this dress is not for the date between the two of you. There’s another one tonight, the triple date organized with all your friends.

Still, you want to look good for Suna on your first date. You want him to think you’re pretty in the dress that he bought you. But as you stand there in it, staring at yourself in the reflection of the window, you still can’t decide if you love how it looks on you – because it’s objectively beautiful and suits you well – or if you hate how it looks, because it’s something you’ve never had the confidence to wear before.

You shift back and forth a few more times, staring at your reflection and tugging at the silk. After a moment, your phone buzzes in your clutch.

[12:54 PM]

Sunarin : you gonna keep standing out there, scaredycat?

Sunarin : or are you gonna let me see you properly

You look at the window in a panic, seeing through it for the first time and realizing that Suna’s perched on the edge of the reception desk, watching you with a fond smile. You swallow, storing your phone away and approaching the shop. You push through the door, the jingle of the bell echoing in the silence around you.

Suna had closed out the shop, giving his artists a paid day off on the condition that they’ll stay far away from the place the whole day. As you walk in, you realize why.

He’d cut all the overhead lights, bathing the room in darkness, and had lit just a few candles around his own station. There’s a table near the client’s chair, two glasses set up next to a chilled bottle of white wine.

Suna’s still seated on the reception desk, dressed in classy black slacks with a black button down tucked into them, sleeves rolled past his elbows. His tattoos, piercings, and that little bracelet of yours all stand out on his skin.

“Hi,” You breathe, wobbling once in your heels as you make your way to him.

“Hi, beautiful.” His eyes trail down the length of your dress, twinkling with amazement. “You look…” 

You smooth out the silk again nervously. “Is it okay?”

“Okay…?” He breathes out a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

You warm, holding out the bag of food. “I’m a little scared we’re gonna get food on our clothes.”

He grins, setting it on the desk. “Luckily, you have a boyfriend who thinks of everything.”

“Do I?” You joke, looking around. “Is he here with us?”

Suna just takes your hand, leading you to his office. There are a couple pairs of sweats and some t-shirts on his couch, things that you know he wouldn’t mind getting dirty. You stare down at them, impressed. And then you look down at yourself.

“I won’t lie to you – I’m not sure I’ll be able to get this back on if I take it off right now.”

He just rolls his eyes and helps you undress, hanging the dress carefully behind the door before following suit. You kick off the heels and pull on his spare clothes, careful not to mess up your hair or makeup. 

Suna looks at you just as he had when you’d walked in.

“What?” You laugh, eyeing him.

“Nothing,” He starts, shaking his head. “Just wondering how you’re still the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, shut up,” You roll your eyes with a giddy smile. “Are you gonna tattoo me or not?”

That catches his attention, and he throws his own shirt on haphazardly before dragging you out to his station. You settle in while he grabs the food and brings it back, setting it up and dropping a container of food down into your lap.

“I thought it would be good if you watched me do mine first, so you know what to expect,” He starts, taking a seat and wheeling to his cart of ink and needles. “But that means you’re on lunch duty.”

“Is that right?” You laugh, uncapping the plate in your lap and preparing a spoonful of curry for him. “Better get started then. I’ve got my job down perfectly.” You spoon it into his mouth, but a bit falls to his knee. He just glares up at you while you eye him sheepishly. 

“Yeah. Real perfect.”

You laugh, settling in to watch him do what he does every day.

You eat quietly while he lays the stencil of the Inarizaki fox over a blank spot on his inner wrist. It’s a very simple line tattoo – he hadn’t wanted to do anything complicated for your first, so it’s very much just a small sketch of a fox, similar to the one he’d done on that napkin at the convention.

“Shouldn’t take more than an hour each,” He mumbles, peering at the stencil in the reflection of a nearby mirror, making sure it’s lined up where he wants it. “Should also hurt less, since there’s no shading or extended time under the needle.”

You nod, feeding him carefully as he draws his tools out and gets to work.

It’s amazing, watching him get lost in his own art.

He’d always been good at it, always talented. But you’d only really witnessed a handful of times when he would bow his head and refuse to come up for air, too focused on what he’s doing to speak more than a few words. He glances up every few moments, but only to look at the mirror, only to check his own work.

He’s done with his own tattoo in just over 20 minutes. 

You stare down at the ink, freshly etched and surrounded by a thin layer of red, the irritation in his skin minimal after years of practice.

“How’s that?” He asks, staring down at it directly and then again in the mirror.

“That’s so cool,” You whisper, leaning toward it. “You just created that from nothing.” When he doesn’t respond, you glance up, finding a hint of embarrassment in his eyes. “You created something that’ll be on your skin forever.”

He smiles down at you, genuine and small. “I s’pose so.” He looks you over, looks at the twinkle in your eye. “Still wanna do this?”

You laugh, nodding. “Of course I do. I want you to create something for me, too.”

He rolls his eyes, cheeks warm, and leans forward to plant a kiss on your head as he stands to clean up. “Let’s finish eating first.”

You watch him wrap his tattoo carefully, a small square of plastic taped meticulously around his wrist. And then he settles back next to you, sighing as you feed him. He reaches for the two wine glasses, pouring small portions. 

“Just a little. ‘s not good to drink before getting tattooed.”

You nod, only taking a few sips before setting it down. “Have you wanted to tattoo me a long time?”

He smiles, breathing out a laugh as he eats. “Since college.”

“Really? You never told me.”

He shrugs. “Figured if you wanted one, you’d come to me.”

You smile teasingly. “What if I’d gone to someone else?”

He narrows his eyes at you. “You would never. That’s against the rules.”

You laugh, combing your fingers through his hair.

“I’d never thought about getting one before you brought it up.” You prod carefully at his lip ring and the multitude of ear piercings. “I’ve never thought about getting any of this done.”

“Why?”

“I dunno,” You shrug. “I always thought those were things that would look bad on me. Because they only look good on pretty people.”

He lifts a brow. “Seriously?”

“Well, yeah-” You gesture to him. “-I always had the evidence right next to me.”

“I think you’d look great with piercings,” He argues. “You’d look really hot with a nose piercing.” He straightens and claps his hands. “Let me pierce you.”

You laugh, pushing him away. “Maybe for our second date-” You level him with a stern look when he starts to get excited. “ Maybe , Rintarou.”

“Alright, alright,” He sighs, giving in. And then he looks you over, glancing behind him at the second stencil. “Shall we?”

A shock of nerves runs through you, but you’re more excited than anything else. Excited to have Suna’s art on your body, proud that everyone will see it.

“I’m ready.”

He cleans up lunch while you examine your body, trying to decide where to get it.

“And I can’t get it on my wrist, too?”

“ No ,” He calls from the back. “ It’ll hurt too much. ”

“But you got it on your wrist!”

“ One of us has twenty-two tattoos, my love, and it’s not you. ”

“Hm,” You respond stubbornly, examining other places. “What about here?” You ask when he returns. You point at your left forearm, just under your elbow.

Suna hums, weighing the decision. “I suppose that’s not the worst spot.”

You beam up at him. “I’ve decided.”

“I think it’s me who decided.”

“ We’ve decided.”

Suna just laughs, settling down into the chair with the stencil. “Okay, baby – we decided. Hold out your arm.”

You watch him work, careful and quiet like he’d been with his own. He lays the stencil flat, spreading the little fox drawing over your forearm before pulling away so you can see. You investigate the little purple sketch, loving how it looks on you already.

“Perfect,” You breathe, smiling lovingly down at him. He grins back before turning to his station. He sets up a needle, testing it quickly before turning back to you. 

“It’s gonna hurt, so just tell me when you want to take a break, okay? Breaks are completely normal.”

“You didn’t take any breaks,” You argue.

“Do you want to count my tattoos, babe?” He smiles innocently when you scowl at him, and then he bows his head low, eyes serious.

It’s not the worst pain you’ve ever experienced, but you ask for a break after five minutes. You sigh when the buzz of the needle quiets.

“That was pretty good – look how much I got done.” 

You stare down at the half-done fox on your arm, seeing that he’d gotten a large portion of the outside drawn. There’s significantly more red skin than he’d had, but you know he’ll just obnoxiously start counting his many tattoos if you point it out.

“Feelin’ alright?” He asks, gauging your pain levels by the pinch of your brows. You nod, staring down at the half-purple fox. That tinge of excitement is back – the one that’s ready to show the world how much of a mark Suna Rintarou has left on your life.

“I’m ready to start again.”

Suna smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek before bowing his head again.

You end up taking just one more break, ten minutes later, and then – before you realize it – he’s pressing cold plastic against your arm, wrapping the tattoo with care.

“Not so bad, huh?” He asks, taping it down gently. You lift your arm to your face, examining the black ink in your skin. 

You beam up at him, overwhelmed by the permanence of it. “It’s so pretty.”

Suna blinks down at you, surprised. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Will you do more?”

He laughs, nodding. “Of course I will. I’ll do anything you want.”

You pass a finger over the plastic, noting that it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. When you glance up at him again, you take him in properly – this man with his striking piercings and countless tattoos, years of dedication to his work present on his own body.

Present on your body, now, too.

You look him over, suddenly entranced by him. 

“Anything?”

He narrows his eyes, looking you over with suspicion. “...Yes?”

You glance toward the shop windows, deciding that they’re simply too close. You stand from the chair, taking him by the hand and leading him to his office.

It’s only when you shut the door that he speaks again.

“Why do I get the feeling that this has nothing to do with the tattoo?”

You walk him to the couch and promptly shove at his chest, watching him fall to the cushion with a light ‘ oof ’.

“It has everything to do with the tattoo.”

And then you drop to your knees in front of him.

Suna’s eyes go wide, and he sits up a bit straighter. “Y/n-”

“Can I thank you? For the tattoo?” You spread your fingers out over his thighs, sliding them carefully toward his hips.

He swallows, watching the path you take. “Would this be a really bad time to tell you that this was one of my college fantasies, too…?”

You stop short, staring up at him with parted lips. “Really?”

“I had a very active imagination in college.”

You laugh in disbelief, the sound growing into something much larger as you lean your head on his knee. “You’re insane-”

“Is the moment gone? Have I lost my chance?” He’s clearly joking, but you can hear the slight disappointment in his tone, so you shake your head.

“Never.” You hook your fingers into his waistband. “Now take these off before I lose my nerve.”

“ Yes, ma’am ,” He breathes, lifting his hips. You smile up at him.

“So obedient lately.”

“I’ve always been obedient – you’re just oblivious.” He laughs nervously, but you hear the truth in it once more. That he’d always been beside you, always been yours – just as you’d always been his.

You only get his sweats down to his knees, losing your patience. 

Sitting up, you take his cock in your hand, stroking gently while Suna lets his head fall back against the couch.

“ Shit ,” He breathes, laughing quietly. “I’m never gonna get used to this.”

“Good,” You laugh, leaning forward and licking a slow stripe up the shaft. “I like you like this.” You take the head of it into your mouth, sucking carefully. Suna moans loudly, tangling his fingers in your hair and gripping tight at the back of your head.

You bring him close to the edge just like that, taking him slowly to the back of your throat before pulling off, your hands stroking the rest of him with ease. He twitches and groans under you, the muscles in his arm straining as he holds the back of your head. Your name falls from his lips repeatedly, a breathy whisper for some and a needy moan for others.

Finally, he tightens his hold on your hair and pulls you off of him with a shaky groan. You blink up at him, teary-eyed, and give him a noise of confusion. He heaves out a sigh, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I don’t wanna come in your mouth,” He breathes heavily, eyes screwed shut. “I’ll mess up your makeup.”

You smile fondly up at him, already feeling your mascara smear on your cheeks. “I think it’s a little late for that, baby.”

He peers down at you, a choked laugh in his throat when he sees the state of you. “Still. I don’t wanna make it worse.”

You give him a shy grin, already crafting a better way to do this.

“That’s alright,” You say, rising just long enough to shed your sweats and underwear. He watches your panties slide down your thighs with rapt interest. “I have an idea.”

“Yeah?” He smiles, still distracted. “So do I, suddenly.”

When you clamber into his lap, straddling both sides of his thighs, he groans quietly. His hands find your waist, guiding you carefully to him. He lets his fingers find their way back into your hair, tangled and drawing you in for a kiss as you’re sinking down onto him.

“ Fuck, ” He murmurs into your mouth, rocking his hips back and forth. You shiver at the feeling but put your hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“I got it,” You whisper when he blinks up at you in confusion. It turns to surprise in an instant, and his eyes track your expression. 

“You sure?”

You’ve been in this position before, countless times. You’ve occupied his lap more than you’re probably comfortable with, but you’d never once taken control here. You’d always left it in his eager hands, burying your face in his neck and letting him do as he pleased. You’d never been ready to ride him, not really – you’d been worried about too much.

Yet here you are, not a single question lingering in your eyes.

You just smile down at him, nodding as you lift up onto your knees. Suna’s eyelashes flutter when you do.

“Yeah, Rin,” You breathe, sinking back down onto him. A needy whine falls past his lips, his hold on your waist tightening. You beam, overwhelmed with satisfaction that you’re the one to make him like this.

“ I got it .” 

Suna Rintarou doesn’t last long like this, you realize.

His hands shake on your skin, fingers dancing from your waist to your thighs and back without reserve. His eyes are locked tight on yours, lips parted as broken moans build in his throat. His chest heaves with every drop of your thighs back onto his, and your name pushes from his mouth into yours with every desperate kiss.

“ Y/n, I’m -” He breathes after only a few minutes, fingertips digging into your thighs. “ I’m gonna -”

You drop your mouth to his throat, sucking lightly and panting a response into his ear.

“ Thank you for the tattoo, Rin. ”

Suna’s groan echoes off the walls of his office, arms curled tight around you as his back arches up into yours. You feel him twitch and spill into you, and you follow soon after, whining into the crook of his neck as the world goes white.

His fingers are combing gently through your hair and his mouth is pressing careful kisses into your skin when you come back to him. 

“ Hi, beautiful ,” He murmurs against your shoulder, and you lift your head slowly to look down at him.

“Was that okay?” You ask, breathless. He just grins back, eyes crinkling with amusement.

“That was-” He shakes his head, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes while he laughs. “That was the most intense orgasm of my entire life.”

“Really?” You giggle, shifting slightly on top of him and smiling when he tenses.

“I don’t even think I have words to describe what that was like.”

“Good,” You say, leaning down to kiss him. But his hands tighten around you when you move to lean away.

“What time is it?” He asks.

You furrow a brow, straining to glance at the clock on the wall. “3:30.”

“And what time is dinner?”

You turn to look at him with suspicion. “6. Why ?”

He just shoots you a wicked grin. “No reason.”

He’s climbing between your legs before you can even realize he’d flipped you onto your back.

–

When you arrive at the restaurant a few hours later – an upscale spot that Atsumu and Sakusa frequent – your reapplied makeup is still setting and your skin is still warm from making extensive use of Suna’s office couch.

He leads you by the waist into the restaurant, holding you close while the hostess leads you to a private room in the back. Both twins and their partners are already there, making your arrival of 6:03 PM so much more suspicious than it should.

“First date went well, I take it?” Atsumu asks immediately, and you take the seat next to him with a subtle glare.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“I think he’s talking about your tattoos!” Yachi exclaims, pointing with wonder to the plastic wrapped around both of your arms.

You breathe a laugh, nodding and showing the art to Osamu and Sakusa. Atsumu just sips at his wine, mumbling under his breath.

“Your skin’s glowing, babe. New bronzer?”

You nudge him hard, smiling shyly when Suna catches your eye across the table. He’s talking quietly with Osamu, pointing at different items on the menu, but his eyes stay on yours.

You look away, smiling to yourself, and find both Sakusa and Atsumu staring at you with knowing eyes.

“Oh, shut up,” You grumble, flipping pages in the menu.

The dinner passes with no more mention of it, the six of you enjoying good food and good wine while you talk about upcoming games and different life events.

“So, uhm-” Suna clears his throat finally, tapping a finger almost nervously on the side of his glass. “I have a slight announcement.”

You blink at him, confused. He hadn’t mentioned making any announcements to you.

Atsumu claps obnoxiously. “You’re proposing!”

Your stomach flips dangerously, and you meet Suna’s eyes across the table.

He laughs, shaking his head. “Not yet.”

Your nerves flutter at the implication.

“And when I do propose,” He argues, pointing between Atsumu and his brother. “It’ll be nowhere near the two of you.”

Osamu gives him an irritating wink while Atsumu whines about trustworthiness, but they both sober quickly when Suna clears his throat again.

“Well, we talked about this already- you and me-” He meets your eyes before letting them fall again to his lap. “But I thought it’d be good to uh…”

He reaches into his pocket, extracting a small box. You know now not to expect a ring box – though the thought of eventually getting one makes your heart swell with love – but you don’t expect it to be a flat, rectangular thing.

He passes it across the table to you, and you take it with slightly trembling fingers. 

“We talked about…” You have a feeling you know what this is now, but the weight of the moment makes it almost feel like more than it had before. It feels real, like there’s no room for doubt or concern left anywhere in what you have with him.

Here, at a table full of all your closest friends – at a table with the twins, who had been with you since the very beginning – Suna Rintarou makes it official.

There’s a key inside, attached to a key ring with a charm in the shape of a cup of coffee.

You meet Suna’s eyes, your own prickling slightly with tears.

Yachi smacks Osamu on the shoulder a few times. “Oh, I love this-”

Atsumu leans back toward Sakusa, whispering annoyingly. “ You’re next, fucker. ”

“Rin,” You say, smiling brightly at him. He sighs in relief, rubbing at his brow.

“Is that a yes?”

You laugh. “I already said yes last time.”

“I know but,” He laughs sheepishly to himself. “That wasn’t exactly, uh… a clear-headed agreement.”

You laugh loudly, Osamu’s noise of disgust and Atsumu’s cheerful ‘ Woo! ’ echoing through the room. Yachi comes around the table to tackle you in a tight hug, and Sakusa pours drinks for the group to celebrate.

These people here now – celebrating this milestone of your relationship with Suna Rintarou – are the same who help carry your boxes through the door of his apartment two months from now. The same who stand at your wedding, two years from now (Atsumu stubbornly in a bridesmaid’s dress and Osamu just beside Suna – brothers chosen, not born). The same who bicker quietly outside your hospital room, not too many years after that – Sakusa just inside, crying softly into his sleeve as he stares down at a baby boy named Kiyoomi, a baby boy that has positively no clue he’s about to be raised by six of the most unruly humans to ever meet.

By two parents who, once upon a time, were nothing more than a boy and a girl walking silently to school together.

[bambi-slxt]

lovelanguage!triplets:

✨a concept✨

🍊𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤🍊

acts of service

he's a problem solver. “chris i can't get the dishwasher to work, can you-” and he's already ordered a new one, set up the installation, and made sure you'll be home for it. he hates the idea of you floundering alone, and is always quick to take on whatever tasks he can, even if it's as small as running a bath for you before you get home.

words of affirmation

chris is the type to look for things about you that other people don’t seem to notice and compliment you on them. “you’re so well-spoken, like the way you word shit, it's just incredible.” he also likes to hear about your goals and how you're achieving them, and enjoys affirming your choices in life.

quality time

he's SO BIG on quality time. chris loves to be near creativity and one of the ways that manifests is with music. lil skies drops a new album? chris is gonna call you first so you guys can listen to the whole thing together and yap about it.

gift giving

he has such a squirrel brain. chris will see something at the store that reminds him of you and put it in the cart, forget about it, do another lap around the store, see it again, and put it in the cart. he just wants to make you happy.

physical touch

chris doesn't feel the need to be possessive. he shows his physical touch kind of love through soft touches on your back when he's walking behind you (“i'm here, don't get startled”), tapping your thigh in the car to the beat of his music, and standing so close to you when y'all brush your teeth that your hips graze each other.

🦋𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕥🦋

acts of service

matt doesn’t like showing off the things he does for you, so often you’ll find that things get fixed or chores get done in the quiet background of your day. he fixes the leaking sink when you’re out shopping, and cleans up the kitchen before you get back so he can help you put groceries away, all without bringing it up once. he enjoys helping you out and taking some of the mental load off of you, but hates the idea of being appreciated for it - matt feels that it’s just his job as a partner.

words of affirmation

he’s big on writing notes. since he doesn’t have a typical 9-5, he’ll make your lunches and put a little post-it note on the inside. “i’m so proud of you, you’re gonna have an amazing day.” on your birthday or anniversary, he always has a hand-written letter for you along with any gifts or celebratory activities.

quality time

matt likes to body double, which means that the two of you don’t necessarily have to be doing the same thing to be engaging in quality time. he’s perfectly content to work on his personal brand or account while you read or play his games while you’re doing homework. he also loves teaching you Fortnite and other FPS’s, or trying new things together like cooking or making crafts.

gift giving

he enjoys giving practical gifts, things that will help make your life easier. it’s his way of saying he notices you’re struggling and he wants to help however he can. this also connects back to his words of affirmation - matt knows that words are powerful, and many of his gifts involve written sentiments of love, pride, vulnerability, or compassion towards you.

physical touch

matt was never big on physical touch. he’s always very aware of his body and someone else coming into contact with it only exacerbated the problem. but soon he came up with a solution for the two of you - ‘three taps means i love you’. soon he taps you all the time, even in his sleep.

👾𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕜👾

acts of service

nick is never afraid to confront your problems head on, and he feels no apprehension taking time out of his day to do things for you. one of his favorite ways to perform an act of service is to help you manage your days and be as productive as you can be - he wants nothing more than to see you succeed and achieve your dreams.

words of affirmation

he doesn’t always show love this way, but when he does, nick could talk about you for hours. he calls attention to all of your wonderful traits, cute quirks, and special interests, making sure to bring up how amazed he is by all of what makes you, you.

quality time

quality time with nick can look like a lot of different things depending on his mood. some days he wants to go get aćai bowls, thrift, go on a walk by the harbor, and visit the farmers market and some days he wants to stay in bed and talk or watch movies until 3pm.

gift giving

nick is incredibly good at getting gifts. he tries his best to pay attention to everything you like and all the hobbies and interests you have so he can go look them up later and find you presents based on that. he also really enjoys diamond paintings, crafting, or any other artsy, homemade gift he can give you, because to nick, those feel the most authentic.

physical touch

he’s always been a bit jumpy when other people touch him and he’s not expecting it, but once nick knows it’s you, he doesn’t mind at all. when he’s in the mood for it, he loves detangling your hair, hiding his hands in your hoodie pocket, or just brushing up on you as much as he can. 

thanks for reading!

bambi <3

request to be on the taglist under this post right here

tags: @pinksturniolo @malirosee @st7rnioioss @nonat-111 @cindylcuwho @evie-sturns @h3arts4harry @fanficsbymia @dazednmatthews @sturniolo-rat @mattsmad @sturniolo04 @bellasturn @blahbel668 @yomamaslays4lyfe @stasiesturn @pleasantlycrazyworld @solarsturniolo

[bellaxgiornata]

The Devil at Your Window |8: Interruptions|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 5.3k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

a/n: The installment featuring the Devil’s ass. Yes, you read that right. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer @keepingitlokiii @kezibear @dorothleah @sarahskywalker-amidala @1988-fiend @haruari @sleepysleepymom @marveious @sunflower-tia @fizanotfeeza @cloudroomblog @babygirlmurdock @writtenbyred @idontevenknow1359 @scriptedmoon @sarraa-26 @barnes21cz @loves0phelia @3sriracha @kmc1989 @midnightramble @marissamejia19

Reaching into the laundry basket, you withdrew another pair of your clean panties. Placing it atop the growing pile of the others on your bed, you continued to sort and fold your clothes. But as your hands mechanically worked, sorting everything into the correct piles quickly overtaking your bed, your mind wandered to the second date you’d had with Dylan last night.

The pair of you had gone out for sushi. You’d enjoyed the dinner with him and were excited to have found a new restaurant you'd considered visiting again. You’d also been happy to see that the conversation between you both had still flowed just as easily as the last time you'd met him at Josie’s. There hadn't been a single awkward moment and he'd even gotten you laughing hard a handful of times.

The second date with Dylan had truly gone well last night. So well in fact that Dylan had even asked about setting up a third date with you before you both had parted ways for the evening. But the only thing you couldn’t seem to shake, which was the reason you’d hesitated on finalizing those third date plans, was how you’d felt when Dylan had kissed you last night.

He'd asked you for permission before actually going in for the kiss and you’d readily given it to him, having admittedly felt a little giddy at the prospect of someone wanting to actually follow through with kissing you. Plus it was sweet that he had asked because you'd personally never experienced anyone asking permission before. You'd thought it was a bit romantic–until he’d actually leaned in and kissed you. Because you’d felt nothing. You might as well have been kissing the sushi you’d eaten for dinner for all the sexual chemistry you’d felt in that moment because there hadn’t been any. 

The lack of that spark between you both had been bothering you ever since last night. So when you’d been at lunch earlier at work and received a cute text from Dylan about how much fun he’d had last night, you’d been hit with a sinking feeling in your stomach instead of butterflies. All because of that kiss. In the end, you’d managed to once more skirt around the topic of a third date when you’d replied to him, feeling like you needed more time to make sense of your jumbled feelings, but you’d still felt guilty for doing so. Because Dylan was admittedly a good guy. You didn’t want to lead him on, but you also wanted to make sure this relationship was right for you, too. 

And right now, you weren’t entirely certain it was.

Was it enough that Dylan seemed like a level-headed guy with a stable job and good manners? Someone who treated you well and had a lot in common with you? Maybe the kiss had only felt off because it was a first kiss and you were both nervous. Surely he deserved a third date and a second chance to redeem himself with his kissing, right?

But if you were being honest with yourself, a big part of you knew it was because the sexual chemistry between you and Dylan was nothing like how it was between you and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen–who you still hadn’t seen since the other night when he’d shown up after your first date. Though you'd noticed that he’d certainly still been visiting your Devil’s Pantry a few times this week.

Was it ridiculous and foolish to hope for a relationship that had the same level of chemistry that you felt with the Devil? Could you even find that sort of a spark so easily with someone else? Because you certainly never had before. The man could get your heart racing with just a smile, you couldn’t even imagine how it would feel if he ever actually kissed you. Or how you’d feel if his hands ever lost those gloves and touched you in far less friendly ways than you were used to, especially hearing that smokey voice of his whispering ‘angel’ into your ear as he did.

Pausing with a shirt in your hands, you found yourself growing heated at just your line of thinking. Feeling a little warm, you cleared your throat and shook your head, trying to shake those thoughts from your mind. But your thoughts alone had proven your point–just thinking about the Devil had you hot and bothered. Unfortunately for Dylan, you couldn’t quite say the same for him. 

It appeared that you had your answer then. Maybe if the Devil wasn’t in your life in whatever capacity he was lately, things might’ve been able to progress further with Dylan. You might’ve been open to giving him more of a chance. But you were still so hopelessly attracted to the Devil that it seemed as if no one else currently stood a chance against him. And that wasn’t fair for Dylan to have to compete against the masked man. He was a good guy, he deserved someone who was really putting themselves fully into a relationship with him. You supposed you’d have to reach out to him and let him know that you weren’t feeling up to a third date tomorrow. 

Three loud knocks from the other room broke through your train of thoughts. Setting down the bra in your hands on your bed, you glanced over your shoulder as a hopeful smile spread across your lips. Had the Devil decided to actually visit you tonight? You’d been dying to see him again ever since he’d abruptly disappeared in the middle of what you were certain had almost been a kiss between you both for what would’ve been the second time now. Ever since that moment, you’d been questioning whether or not he’d been acting jealous because of your date when he’d shown up.

Was it possible he may not have even realized his own feelings? Or that he was intentionally trying to ignore them? You’d been wondering if there was some way that you could help him acknowledge those feelings if they existed, some way to nudge him a bit closer to you and further out of his head. You’d eventually come to the conclusion that maybe if you flirted more openly in return with him instead of letting him so easily fluster you all the time, then you’d possibly get a clearer answer for yourself. Maybe then you could see how he reacted and get a better idea if there was something more going on between you both.

You’d also wondered if there was a chance he might actually kiss you the next time you saw him. After all, he’d been so close to doing it twice now, was it so hard to think you might find yourself in the situation for a third time? Though you tried hard to not get your hopes so high because the disappointment from the previous two times he’d pulled away from you still stung. 

Rushing out of your bedroom without a care for the laundry still lying sorted on your bed, you made your way down the short hall and immediately spotted the Devil standing outside of your window. As you hurried over, the memory of your second almost kiss still fresh in your mind, you felt your heart accelerate at the smile on his masked face. 

Wasting no time, you flung the window open once you’d reached it before stepping aside and allowing him to enter your apartment. Mentally you reminded yourself to keep your thoughts in check now that he was actually here–especially if you didn't want to get flustered attempting to flirt with him. You needed a fairly clear head to focus on how he reacted.

“You know, it still wasn’t locked,” you told him.

“Well,” the Devil replied, lips twisting into a faint grimace as he slipped through the opening, “it seems rude to just barge into your place uninvited.”

“Hasn’t stopped you from doing it a few times already,” you pointed out.

With him finally inside, you closed the window and shut the cold of the night back out of your apartment once more. Eyeing the thin material of his black shirt as you turned back around, you yet again wondered how he survived running around the rooftops in the freezing cold dressed in so little. Even with spring drawing nearer, it was still far too cold for his wardrobe choice. You wished you could give the man a coat, but you figured you’d have to settle on offering him a blanket and a chance to warm up inside.

But as you’d been surveying his outfit, you noticed how he’d immediately taken a step backwards to lean up against the wall behind himself. He was breathing hard, his chest visibly heaving in that tight black shirt. Concern hit you at the sight despite the strange smile currently drawing itself across his mouth.

“Are you okay?” you asked him. “You look like you’re favoring your right side. Did something happen to you tonight?”

“Something generally happens to me every night I go out like this,” he joked, sounding partially out of breath. “But to answer your question–yes.”

You took a step towards him, becoming entirely serious despite his weird habit of continually making light of his injuries. Eyes darting around his body, you tried hard to find one. But as you openly searched him, you couldn’t see a single wound. 

And that’s when you heard him laugh.

The sound drew your eyes up to his masked face, your lips curving into a frown. There was an amused smile on his mouth now, one that had your eyes narrowing. Why did he always react so abnormally to being hurt? Usually when people were in pain they didn't laugh about it.

“It’s nothing quite so serious as the last time,” he assured you, still leaning against the wall. “Though it’s…perhaps a bit embarrassing. Which was partly why I was hoping to stop by your place, and why I’m uh…hopeful that you might be willing to help me once again, angel.”

“Help you how?” you asked cautiously. “As in you need a bandaid? Or would you like me to finally call you an ambulance?”

He chuckled again, shifting a little against the wall as he did. But you caught how he winced at the movement and your frown deepened. 

“Something more along the lines of the first one,” he answered. “But uh…there’s a bit of a catch.”

Head immediately turning curiously to the side at his comment, your eyes narrowed further. “What do you mean?” you asked. “What sort of catch?”

The Devil ducked his head, the amused smile on his lips remaining. “Well, besides being in need of a rather large bandage, I was wondering if perhaps you might have…a needle and thread? Or possibly some duct tape?” 

“What?” you asked in disbelief. “Wait, you’re not asking me to stitch you up are you? Because I’m absolutely not qualified to do that. And you know what?” you continued. “I don’t think duct tape works in the place of stitches. Honestly, it sounds like I should just call–”

While you’d been speaking, the Devil had pushed his body off of the wall. The amused grin had never left his mouth, even as his head had remained ducked almost sheepishly towards his chest. But as you’d continued talking, about to remind him of his friend that was a nurse and far better suited to help with an injury that needed stitches, you saw him begin to turn around. And that was when you spotted his injury, the sight of it instantly stopping anymore words from falling out of your mouth. Truthfully, the unexpected and surprising sight of his bare left ass cheek had left your brain entirely devoid of all thoughts for a moment.

The back of his dark pants had been sliced wide open across his ass, and whatever had done the slicing had also managed to tear through not just his boxers, but his skin as well. There was a few inch long bloody gash diagonally across his left cheek, which had at first caused you to gasp in surprise. But admittedly you’d grown silent soon after because you could see one entire round, firm ass cheek on full display. The blood and the cut hardly mattered when you were staring at half of his bare ass right now.

And goddamn did it look perky and tight.

The Devil’s head spun over his shoulder, a grin still on his lips. You could see it from the corner of your eye, but your attention was still very much focused on his ass. Though when you heard his amused laughter again, you at least had the grace to feel a little embarrassed before your gaze returned to his masked face.

“Did you notice the actual reason I asked for a bandage and tape while you were staring at my ass?” he teased. “Or have you forgotten why you were even looking at it in the first place, angel?”

Clearing your throat, you shook your head and tried to clear your thoughts. But when you spoke again, it honestly took all of your willpower not to stare back down at his ass.

“I’m sorry,” you replied, still trying to gather your thoughts, “I wasn’t exactly expecting half of your ass to greet me when you spun around, Devil. You could have at least warned me first.”

“Oh?” he asked, his head tilting to the side. “My ass needs a warning now does it?”

Remembering how you’d wanted to try to flirt more openly with him to see if he’d stop holding himself back, you figured he’d just now presented you with the perfect opportunity to start. 

“You know what? Yes, yes it does,” you stated boldly. “I mean have you seen your ass, Devil? Did you have to sell your soul for that thing? Because that’s definitely not your average ass.”

He barked out a loud, surprised laugh at your response. Your attention brazenly returned to his bare cheek, admiring it despite the injury. It truly was unfair the body the masked man had beneath his clothes. Especially considering how often you found yourself getting private viewings of it without being able to actually appreciate any part of him.

“Wasn’t expecting that response out of you this evening,” he confessed once his laughter had subsided. “But I was hoping you’d have some way to help me temporarily mend my pants. Strong tape would suffice until I got home. Admittedly it’s quite breezy on the rooftops like this.”

The Devil turned back around towards you as he spoke, ruining your unobstructed view of his ass. Though you had a feeling you’d be helping him with it soon enough.

“I would say it’s probably embarrassing to have a criminal catch you running around like that,” you began, “but honestly I feel like it’s somehow more intimidating.”

His head tilted to the side, the corner of his lips tugging up into a smirk beneath his mask. “You think I’m somehow more intimidating being caught quite literally with my ass out?” he asked. “How do you possibly figure that?”

“Because,” you answered, “that thing is impressive. And now you have me wondering…if you’ve got those yoga healing powers of yours, does that mean you could stop a bullet with that?”

Another amused laugh spilled forth out of the Devil as you pointed to his ass. You couldn’t resist smiling at the warm sound of his laughter filling your apartment. You'd missed him over the past few days and were glad to have him back here and in a good mood this time. Tonight he was acting like he usually did when he stopped by instead of the sour mood he’d been in last time.

“Did you really just ask me if I could stop a bullet with my ass, angel?” he asked, grinning wide.

“Yeah, I did,” you confidently teased back. “Considering what else you can do, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“I can’t say that I’ve ever tried,” he told you, “but I’m thinking the answer is ‘no’.” He jutted his chin out towards you, the smile never leaving his mouth. “You seem in a good mood tonight,” he observed. “More forward than I remember you being, too. Any reason for that?”

You shrugged in response. Of course you weren’t going to tell him the newest theory you had made about the Devil. The one where you believed he might actually have developed feelings for you. 

“Just happy to see my favorite stray,” you answered. “Even if you showed up a little worse for wear tonight. Speaking of,” you continued, the smile slipping off your face, “did you actually need stitches? Because in all seriousness, I cannot give you stitches. I have no idea how to do that.”

The Devil shook his head, a small smile still lingering along his lips. “No,” he told you. “No stitches tonight. Though I wouldn’t mind a giant bandage if you have one. Maybe something for the cut because I’d like to avoid an infection.”

“Certainly wouldn’t want to ruin your ass,” you muttered under your breath, noticing the way his smile curved a bit higher. “But I did buy some other first aid supplies the other week, so you’re in luck, Devil,” you told him. “I might actually have an adhesive bandage big enough to cover that. And I may have some packing tape somewhere in the kitchen that could temporarily fix your torn pants problem, too.”

“I’d very much appreciate that,” he replied.

“Let me just grab my first aid kit then,” you said.

Stepping past him, you made your way towards your bathroom and refrained from peeking over your shoulder to get a glimpse of his bare ass. Something told you that he’d know if you did.

Entering your bathroom, you bent down and opened the bottom of your vanity in search of the navy towel you’d used the last time you cleaned his blood off of him. As you grabbed it from among the stack of towels under your sink, the thought of using it now to wash off his ass had you once again feeling a little warm. You didn’t doubt that you’d be thinking about touching it later in a far less innocent way than just helping him with a cut. 

You grabbed the first aid kit from beneath your sink next before standing back up and taking a moment to wet the towel under the bathroom faucet. Afterwards, you made your way back out of the bathroom with both items in hand. 

In your living room you found the Devil still leaning against your wall where you'd left him. He silently watched you make your way past him through the room, tracking your steps with his masked face just as he’d done the time he’d been here sitting on your couch not that long ago. 

Licking your lips, you couldn’t shake the nerves you felt under his attention despite your boldness with him this evening. Somehow it never took much for him to fluster you, even when you’d been actively trying not to be so easily flustered tonight. But knowing you'd be rubbing blood off of his ass before applying ointment and a bandage in a few minutes certainly wasn't helping your heart rate. 

“So,” you said, clearing your throat as you stopped at your little kitchen table, setting down and opening the first aid kit, “before I bandage your cut, I should…probably clean the blood off of it first. Sort of defeats the purpose of using Neosporin and a bandage otherwise.”

“Makes sense,” he easily agreed.

You glanced over at him, chewing your lip as you tried to figure out the best way to accomplish your task. He couldn't exactly sit down, which sort of left you the only option of kneeling at ass height to see what you were doing. Biting down particularly hard on your lip, you tried to control your body’s reaction to that realization, but as the Devil continued silently watching you from across the room, you saw the smile on his mouth grow visibly cocky. 

He was enjoying this.

“Alright, well I'm going to need you to come here if you want help,” you told him, trying to disregard that smile on his face. 

Slowly he pushed off the wall in one fluid movement, that self-satisfied smile permanently taking residence on his mouth. Swallowing hard, you tried to push down the nervous energy within you that threatened to grow with every one of his approaching steps. If you were going to be successful in your attempts to be more bold with him this evening while trying to gauge his reaction to you, this situation would be yet another opportunity. You just needed to try to play it cool.

The Devil came to a stop just a foot before you, his head tilting to the side in silent question when he did. Summoning all of your confidence, you squared your shoulders and arched a brow at him before gesturing to your table with a hand. 

“Well, what are you waiting for? Bend over, Devil,” you ordered.

His lips parted in something almost like surprise for a brief moment, though he didn’t actually respond. Instead, his mouth closed once more as he recovered and that cocky smile returned to it before he turned away from you. You watched as he placed both of his gloved hands flat along your small dining table before he bent over, sticking his wounded and partially visible ass out towards you. 

Once more wishing you were in a vastly different situation with him in which you weren't offering him some form of medical assistance, you lowered down to your knees behind him. But you hesitated with the damp towel in your hand because you were quite literally face to face with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchens’ ass. The ass you’d certainly observed a time or two in grainy photographs–especially after having met him. And now it was so close you could realistically lean forward and bite it.

Not that you were going to do that right now, of course.

You hadn’t even begun wiping the blood from his wounded ass before you heard him release an amused huff. You frowned in response, eyes flickering up to the back of his head before returning to his exposed left cheek.

“What?” you asked.

Bringing the towel finally down to his skin, you began to wash off the blood. But you also couldn’t help impressively noting that his ass–even through the damp cloth–felt as firm as it looked.

“Nothing,” he replied lightly. “Just seems like you’re a little distracted back there.”

You rolled your eyes, trying hard to remain focused on cleaning the blood and not the way the tip of one of your fingers had just grazed his bare skin. His ass was quite smooth.

“How’d you manage to get this, by the way?” you asked, trying to distract yourself. “Dodging a knife?”

He let out a chuckle, shaking his masked head above you. You caught the movement out of the corner of your eye, but your attention remained on the last few traces of blood that you were cleaning off of him. As you did, you noticed that he was right, this cut didn’t look remotely that bad now that it wasn't smeared in blood.

“No, actually,” he confessed. “I was trying to climb up a building. Lost my footing and fell down one floor before quite unfortunately landing on my ass on something sharp. Tore right through my pants, as you can see.”

You winced as you reached over, setting the damp, bloodied towel down on your table. “Ouch.”

Picking up the tube of Neosporin from your first aid kit, you twisted the cap off of it before focusing back on his ass. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you realized you’d have to apply it with your fingertip. Which meant touching his ass. His very, very tight, muscular ass.

Above you the Devil shifted, gazing down at you from over his shoulder. A shudder ran up your spine when he grinned knowingly beneath that mask. As if he'd somehow been able to read your mind.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“No,” you answered far too quickly.

Blinking hard a few times, you tore your eyes away from his ass which was still just half a foot away from your face and began to squeeze some of the ointment out of the tube and onto your finger. Internally you cursed the masked man for not getting flustered nearly as easily as you. And for somehow always seemingly reading your mind–particularly when you were having inappropriate thoughts.

“Almost done back here,” you informed him, trying to sound more calm than you felt. “Then I can find the packing tape for your pants.”

Sucking in a breath as your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you reached your index finger out towards the cut on his ass. Trying hard to prevent your hand from noticeably trembling, you very gently applied the ointment along the length of the gash. But halfway through the application you hesitated, your eyes flickering upwards when you noticed the Devil's entire body had stiffened at your touch. Quirking a brow at him curiously, you wondered what that had been about.

With the ointment applied, you reached over and grabbed the damp towel from off of your table. Rising to your feet, you wiped the Neosporin off your finger and onto the cloth before setting it back down. Then you plucked a rather large bandage out of your first aid kit and began to open the packaging.

“How’s that guy you’re seeing?”

Your hands paused what they were doing at the unexpected question, your eyes slowly rising from the half-opened bandage in your hand to the Devil still bent in half in front of you. His hands had curled into fists along your kitchen table, his masked face focused straight ahead at the window. His jaw was set firm, a muscle jumping in the part of his cheek that you could see. You certainly hadn’t thought he'd be asking about Dylan right now.

And there's your answer , you thought. He’s jealous. It's obvious. Use that to your advantage.

Clearing your throat, your attention returned to the bandage in your hands. You finished tearing it open before reaching your hands out and lining it up with his wound.

“He’s good,” you replied. “We actually had a second date last night.”

The Devil grew tense beneath your touch as your hand lightly smoothed the bandage over his ass. You could feel your pulse quickening at his reaction. Had that been due to your touch? Or to the fact that you’d gone on another date? You weren’t entirely certain.

“I hope he took you somewhere better than a dive bar this time,” the Devil retorted.

“We went out for sushi,” you told him. 

With his cut now bandaged, you turned and made your way into the kitchen. You were certain you still had packing tape in your junk drawer by the sink from when you'd moved in here months ago.

“I take it that your second date went well, too?” he asked.

You pulled the junk drawer open and paused, your hand hovering over it. That had certainly sounded a lot like jealousy. Especially because you'd heard the way he had asked the question through very obviously gritted teeth.

“It did,” you answered slowly, finally grabbing the packing tape out of the drawer. “We even kissed.”

Something like a soft hiss came from between his teeth from across the room. You fought to keep the smile off of your mouth, your teeth biting down on your lip once more at the sound. If you were being honest, you sort of liked his jealousy. Certainly far too much to want to tell him the actual truth about that kiss and how you weren’t planning to continue things with Dylan. You found yourself wanting to enjoy his jealousy just a bit longer.

“So it turns out I do have some tape,” you told him, returning to where the Devil remained bent at your table. “I can use it to fix your pants. I imagine it should hold long enough for you to get back home.”

“Thank you,” he replied, voice tight.

You pulled a large strip of tape out from the dispenser in your hand, the sound sharp and loud in your apartment. Tearing off the length of tape with one hand, your other began to gently draw both pieces of his torn pants back together. 

“So how was it?” he asked.

Brows furrowing together, you very carefully began adhering the tape up the length of his torn pants, slowly sealing them somewhat back together. “What?” you asked, distracted.

“The kiss?” he prompted. “With that guy?”

Your eyes darted up to the back of his head, briefly staring at the dark brown hair that was noticeable beneath his mask. You’d often tried to imagine what it might feel like to pull the mask from off of his head and run your fingers through those dark strands.

“It uh, it wasn’t like any other kiss I’ve had before,” you answered. “I can say that.”

The Devil ducked his head, but as he did you caught how his nostrils flared sharply. You'd barely finished taping his pants together before he roughly pushed off of your kitchen table, turning around to face you. That tension in his body was back along with the same hardness that he’d had when you’d encountered him after your first date. Feeling entirely validated in that moment, you’d opened your mouth to finish your thought. You figured maybe now you should tell him the truth–that the kiss hadn’t been any good. That you’d immediately thought of him afterwards. How you wished he’d just kissed you the other night when he’d had the chance.

But before you could make a sound, your phone’s ringtone went off on the counter behind you. Startled at the noise, you jumped on the spot before glancing over your shoulder. The caller ID showed Dylan’s name on the screen and your heart pounded a little unevenly at the sight. Of course he’d somehow call late and ruin this moment.

“I shouldn’t take up anymore of your time this evening,” the Devil said.

Your head darted back towards him in time to see him making his way over to your window. You reached a hand out after him, ignoring the phone still ringing behind you.

“Wait!” you called out.

He stopped only when he reached your window, his head gesturing towards your ringing phone. “That him?” he asked.

You pulled a face, glancing back at your phone behind you before focusing back on the Devil. “Yes, but what’s that–”

“Thank you for helping me tonight,” he said in a clipped tone. “I’ll leave so that you can take his call.”

He roughly shoved your window up before slipping through it with a cat-like grace that you’d long come to admire. But just as quickly as he’d opened it, he was slamming it shut behind himself with a sharp bang . Your mind barely had a chance to register anything before he was already throwing himself over the railing of your fire escape, leaving you standing confused in your kitchen.

Frustration hit you instantly once your ringtone stopped, silence now settling around you in the apartment. You shouldn’t have been toying with the Devil like that, no matter how much you’d enjoyed his jealousy. Because now you’d just lost the chance to clear the air with him and you weren’t exactly sure when you’d have the opportunity again. 

Because what if he never came back?