#i hope the exclamation marks made it clear enough

[arainesque]

in trust, i let you feel

authors note:

RAMBLES. this is the definition of a ramble. all in one, just out there, i've barely read it through, just posting for the person who may want it. ???? My new take on a writers-block. Tumblr allows rambles doesn't it. (Fluffy and mildly dramatic.)

word count: 895

Matty knew it was bad, he did. He didn’t need the constant nudges of reminder as if he’d slip up if didn’t remember. As if people thought he didn’t know. As much as he wished he wasn’t part of the collective conscious of the world, he was. He knew, and he was aware. And they weren’t even an entity in the first place, really, his addiction and his devotion. They were on two completely different planes, entirely separated. He couldn’t forget it no matter how hard he tried. He couldn’t stop, either. Because they weren’t the same and his brain wasn’t a simple mechanism. The human brain just isn’t.

Multiple things can be true at once, no matter how contradictory it seems. No matter how frustrating the notion is.

It’s sorted through so many algorithms that you get dizzy with it. Left to rely on the feeling instead of the thought. Because it becomes intrinsic at some point. The beauty of biology.

And he loves George.

And he loves the drugs.

It isn’t one or the other. Really.

How can you decide when there’s an infinite amount of opportunities. An infinite amount of right decisions. Because right isn’t objective, and everything is stupid.

But he loves George.

Oh, he loves George.

His heart wouldn’t forget how to beat around him if he didn’t.

It wouldn’t turn into this stupid, fragile, trembling thing inside of his chest. Stuttering and racing at the sound of his voice. Stopping completely at the mere sight of his dark eyes, just drinking them in as if in some sort of trance. Yet, he’d never been more thankful to be sober.

The more you know, the more you know that you know nothing.

But George’s chest is so smooth beneath the palm of his hand, and if nothing matters then how can that matter so much. It all matters just that bit too much.

“Here.” George says, pressing Matty’s hand firmer to his sternum. “It’s not beating right.”

It isn’t. It’s too quick, like the fluttering of a hummingbird's wings beneath Matty’s hand. But it’s George and it’s alive. A rabbit's heart. Rhythmical and forceful and fast.

“It’s perfect.” Matty found himself whispering against the skin of George’s chest, pushing his hand down even firmer just to feel the responding skip in the otherwise steady tempo. Causing chaos. Arrhythmia.

George let him. Unbelievably.

“It can’t behave around you.” George spoke, his voice lacing the air in a dreamlike texture that shouldn’t have been of this world, but it was, and it’s beautiful. George’s hand pressed his own even closer to his chest. The next inhale was deep and crisp beneath Matty’s ear. “It’s always been sensitive to you.”

Matty closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on each point where their bodies were connected, touching. His leg slung over George’s hip, his hipbone grazing George’s abdomen and the sheer weight of George’s hand on top of his own. Letting him feel things he couldn’t explain with words.

Words weren’t ever enough, were they?

“Mine too.” Matty whispered, sober, vulnerable.

“It doesn’t like being listened to.” George nearly-whispered. A quiet confession. The ghost of a breath making the curls on top of Matty’s head move just a little bit. Just enough for a crazy person to notice, and he noticed.

A heartbeat. Two. Speeding up. A staccato.

“I know.” Matty said, shifting a little so that the violent sloshing sounds of George’s blood rushing through the valves of his heart softened a little, so his ear landed a little closer to the bottom of his clavicle. “Why do you let me?”

It stuttered beneath Matty’s ear, beating even quicker. Sickly. If he didn’t know.

“It loves you.”

Thundering. Matty getting breathless along with the pace of it.

“Do you?” Matty questioned, slinging his leg just that bit further over George’s hip. Letting his lips graze over that one mole on his chest.

“Yes.” No room for objections in the conviction of his voice. “You know I do.”

“Yeah.” Matty said, against the ever-smooth skin of George’s chest. Against the heartbeat steadily pushing up against his sternum, threatening his line of sight. The proof of life he couldn’t stop himself from marveling at. The fundamental pace of the person he knew and loved and needed. The pace he had full control of no matter if he wanted to or not. But he did, want to. “I love you.”

George’s heart trembled beneath his palm, against the shell of his ear. Because he cared and the words did hit him where they needed to. Matty was aware of that. He never had to doubt George’s interpretations of his utterances. Never had to doubt George’s feelings for him, really. Not when his pulse had always stuttered nervously around him.

Mirroring his own.

“I love you.”

Not I love you more. I love you differently.

Loving drugs and loving George weren’t the same.

George loved him back.

George was so, so much better.

With his beating (pounding) heart. So obviously affected and there. Fluttery and fragile and vulnerable. A heart he trusted Matty with. Something to give him purpose.

Maybe it wasn’t so difficult at all. Anything. 

Maybe it was just George’s life beneath the palm of his hand.

His "I love you." Against the top of his head.

Maybe just his skin against his own.

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

Emoji, questionmark

Katya receives a special text from Natasha, who is very... appreciative of her muscles.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 3.1k • Warnings: suggestive • A/N: thank you so much for your patience as I took a bit of a break from writing! I hope to post more now :) Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

Katya

"Thanks again, Kat!"

The last of Katya's students left the training room, taking their water bottles and positive energy with them. 

It had been another good day at the women-only gym, and Katya lingered around to clean up, in no rush to get home. She looked up and smiled at the goodbye, giving a small wave to Sandra, who got more confident in her own skin every week. 

"Till next week!"

When the room was empty, Katya did a small lap around to look for any forgotten items or water spills, ending up where she started; at the portable speaker nestled in the corner. Her phone lay next to it, connected to the bluetooth device. 

Pulling the hair tie from her sweaty, oily hair, Katya picked it up. It unlocked to several missed messages from the last two hours—she rarely checked messages between classes, and not at all in classes. That's not the type of vibe she wanted to give off.

There were some notifications from her social media, a text from Laura thanking her for the flowers she sent for her and Clint's wedding anniversary, one from Maya saying she picked up cat food. 

And, of course, a text from her wife.

They were so… pathetically connected that they missed the other instantly when they were apart. 

Natasha had some errands to run in the city? Katya sat on the couch, sulking, anticipating her return. Katya was at work all day? Natasha texted her more often than usual about stuff that didn't matter in the slightest just because she was thinking about her the whole time. 

The only time they were ever fully at ease was when they were together. Maya made fun of them for it, but Katya was quick to point out that the past had given them enough reason to feel that way. Unexpectant time apart, years where they thought the other was dead. It left deep scars in their fragile hearts and separation anxiety in their stomachs.

For obvious reasons, Katya had message previews for Natasha's chats off, in case anyone needed to use her phone. She only saw what her wife texted her when she opened the chat. 

Katya snorted out loud in the empty room. Caught off guard by the embarrassed sound that came out of her own mouth, she quickly looked around, but the only one staring at her was the reflection of herself in the large mirror wall.

Smugness drew a smirk across her mouth, ego puffing out her chest. Natasha was the best hypewoman, even when her reasons were entirely selfish. Nobody loved Katya's physique more than her, and she made sure to let her know every chance she got, both verbal and non-verbal. The non-verbal worshipping was both their favorite. 

Natasha's message consisted of one emoji and one punctuation mark. Not an uncommon thing in itself. A food item with a question mark meant; can you pick this up, or can we have this for dinner? A cat or a ginger-haired girl with a question mark meant; where is the cat, and where is Maya? Any of those things with an exclamation mark meant; don't forget to pick it up. 

It was an important distinction. 

But there were no doubts on what Natasha meant this time. It was very, very clear what she wanted. Shamelessly too.

The flexed arm emoji combined with the question mark meant she was most probably horny, and most definitely mentally drifting.

Katya snickered as she locked and pocketed her phone, collecting the last of her stuff before closing the door of the training room behind her. Usually, she would head straight for the office or to the car, but now she took a detour to the machines. 

Smiling and greeting people, she did a few quick stretches before grabbing a set of weights. With no pre-workout taken, no warmup of any kind, she sat down and started a quick bicep and shoulder routine. 

The goal today wasn't to get a correct workout in. The goal was to pump her muscles so her wife could get her fix. 

She was barely sweaty by the time she stopped, but she had no patience to continue. By now, Natasha would have seen that she'd been left on delivered and would be waiting on what she asked for. The woman was a lot of things, but patient wasn't high up in that list. 

Katya was in and out of the machine room within fifteen minutes, hurrying to find a mirror before her hard work was lost. Luckily, there was another pro to an all-women gym: incredible bathroom lighting. None of that dark, mysterious stuff where you feel like you're in a cave. No, the mirrors on the walls were huge and lined with lights. 

Katya made sure the stalls were empty before propping her phone up on the sink, next to the gym-provided perfumes and deodorant. Quickly, she took her hoodie off and turned with her back to the camera, redoing her ponytail to ensure a maximal view of her shoulders and back.

It felt odd in the beginning to take pics like these, when Natasha first started asking for them. But Katya quickly found out that it wasn't very different from the nudes she sent her. Natasha found her sexy and hot no matter what pose or position she was in, as long as she could see what she wanted to see. Don't overthink it.

She snapped some pictures from different angles, capturing different muscle groups, and tried some new poses she found online from the fitgirls she followed. They didn't turn out amazing, but they would satiate Natasha for now. When footsteps approached the bathroom door, Katya hid the evidence of her activities by snatching her phone off the sink, but Brianna took one look at her and smiled knowingly.

"Documenting your progress?" She asked, picking the sink next to Katya's to wash her hands. Her hair wasn't in box braids this time, instead in a bun on the back of her head. She looked gorgeous whatever way she wore it. 

"They're not for me," Katya answered distractedly, flipping through the photos to pick the best ones, deleting some that were too mediocre. She had to admit, her body looked good.

"Ah." Brianna smirked, taking a quick peek at the phone screen. "What the wife wants, the wife gets."

"Exactly." Katya mirrored her expression and sent the three best pics off to Natasha without any context, then she pocketed her phone and turned to her boss. "I think this means I have to get home ASAP."

"Get some."

Katya snickered. "I think I will."

Natasha

Natasha had been feeling like this all day; clingy, needy. Usually, she was the first one out of bed in the mornings. Today, she wouldn't let Katya get up to go to work. It almost made her late.

These phases of hers came and went. One week, she followed Katya everywhere like a baby duck. The next, she sought out solitude in her office upstairs. 

They made it work no matter what mood she was in, but Natasha couldn't help but dread the moments she was alone when she felt clingy. With Maya at school, and no distractions, she started to think about stupid stuff, like if this was how it felt to be on your period. Emotional and needy. 

She just missed Katya. Like a dog misses its owner. She wanted hugs; a warm, strong body to nestle into. She wanted to be taken care of; for Katya to bring her tea and wrap a blanket around her. 

She would tell her all of this, but Natasha didn't like to bother her too much when she was at work. It was only eight hours, and she was a big girl. 

Nevertheless, after trying everything to put her mind off it, Natasha wound up looking through her camera roll for pictures of her wife. If anyone ever found or hacked her phone, they'd think she was a stalker. She had folders for everything, sorted alphabetically, and filled to the brim with pictures of Katya.

'Kat on holiday'. 'Family'. 'Kat doing stuff'. 'Kat candid pics'. Natasha even had a 'this is my wife'-folder, because she always managed to work Katya into any conversation and would then proudly show her off to anyone. This folder was filled with Katya's prettiest pictures. 

Natasha paused with her thumb hovering above the last folder, hidden at the bottom of the screen. Going into her camera roll, her goal was simply to daydream innocently and to fill that Katya-shaped hole in her day. But if she clicked on that folder, her brain was going to take a very aggressive U-turn onto a road that steered straight off a cliff.

Oh well, it'd give her something to do.

'Kat's muscle pics', was, obviously, filled with pictures of Katya's muscles; ones the brunette sent herself, posed, or quick snaps Natasha took. Most of them were lucky shots. Candid pics turned muscle pics. Katya's strong legs in shorts, her arms in a tank top, her abs in a bikini, her back in a strapless dress. Anything where her incredible muscles were highlighted.

If Maya didn't have the code to her phone, Natasha would have named the folder something more worthy. 'Muscle mommy', maybe. 

But the mediocre name didn't stop Natasha from enjoying the content thoroughly. She stopped at every pic, took her time, zoomed in, shifted in her seat if one really got to her. But they didn't seem to be hitting like they usually did. With a frown, she scrolled back to the most recent picture, finding the date to confirm her thoughts. 

It dated back 3 weeks. 3 weeks! Way too long. 

Upset—and a bit pissed—she backed out of the app and found her chat with Katya. It was truly outrageous that she hadn't been supplied with fresh content for twenty-one whole days. Shocking that she had to ask for it herself. Part of her was too proud to, but the bigger part needed new pics right now. 

Quickly, she found the arm emoji—which wasn't even in her recents anymore, unlike the peach and the scissors—and threw a big, fat question mark behind it. Only one, because she wanted to tell Katya in person how pissed she was. Then she sent the text.

Waiting was torture. Natasha even went on a run to pass the time, music blasting in her eardrums instead of the usual audiobook or podcast. But there were no notifications when she came back home, or showered, or made herself a snack. 

She was ready to throw her phone across the room and roll up into a blanket ball on the couch when the status of her text changed from 'delivered' to 'seen'. Hopeful and excited, Natasha sat up, intently staring at the screen. She wasn't disheartened when Katya went offline again without replying. Her wife never ignored her, so something must be coming soon.

She fumbled for her phone when it chimed, her heart racing as she opened the pictures Katya finally sent her. It wasn't just one. It wasn't two. It was three.

Saliva pooled in her mouth as she studied them. Closely. Every ridge, every rounding, every curve of Katya's upper body. Her phone was only inches away from her face, too scared to miss anything like she didn't have free access to those muscles 24/7.

The pictures were perfect. They were sexy, so sexy. They were feminine yet masculine. Elegant yet tough. The perfect combination. A woman who could rock a dress and be a gentlewoman, and strangle a man to protect her. 

The need to feel the muscles underneath her fingertips slowly grew. It was a weird mix of horniness and loneliness. To have those strong arms around her in a hug, or to desperately hold them as Katya ruined her? 

Liho meowed as she jumped on the couch, sniffing Natasha's phone as if she wanted a piece of Katya too.

"Look at your other mom," Natasha said to her in her baby-voice full of awe, showing the cat the pictures like Liho had any clue what she should be looking at. The animal just meowed again. "I agree, baby. So gorgeous. So sexy. And all mine."

Natasha's thumb drifted towards the call-button—she needed to hear Katya's voice. She couldn't keep staring at the pictures that were sent without any context. She needed more. Anything. But right before she tapped, three dots appeared at the bottom of her screen. 

Kat: Leaving now. See you soon x.

Katya

Katya walked into the house with caution like the spy she once was, dropping her shoes and bag along the way. 

When Natasha didn't reply to the pictures, she knew what time it was. Actually, she knew what time it was when she asked for muscle pictures. Only a needy Natasha would do that. And Katya knew, based on the millions of Instagram Reels her wife had also sent her today, that it wasn't just a regular horny episode either. Natasha was lonely.

The thought made her heart swell. They'd been together for most of their lives, yet Natasha still wanted to spend all of their time together if they could. Only then did she feel completely content and happy. She wasn't very good at verbally telling Katya that, but there were huge signs if you knew where to look. Like her behavior today.

Just in time, Katya stopped herself from chuckling when she stepped into the living room. Natasha sat on the couch like an angry child, scowling pettily and refusing to look away from the TV. She clearly wasn't happy with Katya's lack of attention today and wanted to teach her a lesson for it. Silent treatment was therein her lesson of choice.

"Привет, милая (Hello, honey)," Katya said slowly, crossing her arms as she leaned against the doorpost. The Russian was on purpose and came as a complete surprise to Natasha, who stiffened slightly. The words always hit just a little deeper if Katya switched back to their first language. "Почему ты дуешься (Why are you pouting)?"

Natasha looked conflicted, not sure what emotion to act on. One, anger; two, horniness; three, clinginess. She thought long and hard about her answer, not moving an inch as she did, pretending her wife was air. 

"I've been neglected," she accused Katya coldly. A good answer. It covered all three of her emotions.

Katya pushed away from the doorpost, slowly approaching her frozen wife. Like one would a scared cat. "I'm sorry, baby. That was never my intention." If Natasha listened closely—and Katya knew she did—then she could hear the amusement in her voice. That's probably the reason for the side-eye Natasha gave her when she sat down next to her. "How can I make it up to you?"

It didn't appear as if Natasha was going to answer. She stayed silent for so long, her steel expression directed at the TV, that Katya nearly gave up. A minute longer and she'd have stood up to prepare some sweet gesture. But then Natasha slowly leaned into her. 

It was barely noticeable if Katya wasn't hyper aware of her to begin with. But slowly, very slowly, her wife's body tilted her way. When Katya opened her arms, it went faster, until Natasha was fully resting against her chest. Eagerly, Katya wrapped her arms around her body. Natasha didn't fully relax; silent protest.

"For now," she said warningly, before Katya got too happy.

The brunette frowned. She was still happy, don't get her wrong, but hugs weren't exactly what she expected when she drove home. "Does—"

"Sex later."

Of course, Natasha read her mind. 

Katya hummed in acknowledgement, like it didn't make her incredibly excited. Natasha would push her off the couch if she set one foot wrong. Instead, she rubbed her shoulder carefully while Natasha kept pretending to watch the TV. If the redhead wanted to be stubborn a little longer, then Katya was going to let her. She could contain her own neediness for a long, long time.

Natasha's phone was safely tucked between her thighs, anxiously. How big were the chances that Katya's pictures would pop up if she unlocked it? She was too scared for her hand to find out. 

"Did you like them?" She asked, failing to hide the smugness in her voice. The thin ice she tread on cracked beneath her feet.

"They'll do," Natasha answered, uninterested.

Katya nearly snorted, but she settled for a half smirk Natasha couldn't even see. "You know, there's nothing wrong with admitting that you like them.''

"I said, they'll do," the redhead corrected sharply.

"Okay."

Natasha's scowl deepened when she heard how sarcastic that answer was. Anyone walking in would think the TV personally offended her. "Stop being so cocky."

"You don't think I have a reason to be?"

"I didn't say that."

"You don't like it?"

"You're putting words in my mouth."

"I wish I was putting something else in—" Natasha's death glare cut her off. It was brief, but powerful, and the woman settled right back into Katya's chest afterwards.

"You have the right to be cocky, but you still irritate me," Natasha mumbled through gritted teeth. 

Katya dared to smile after the fear left her system. "Why?"

"Because you know damn well what it does to me, and it's unfair to have so much power over me."

It took all her willpower not to chuckle. Katya magically managed to keep her body still too. But it was going to be her words that would trigger Natasha. "Aw, is this your power struggle-struggle again?"

It was finally too much. With an angry huff, the woman pushed away from her, a dangerous fire flickering behind her eyes that matched the fiery color of her hair. She was absolutely stunning. "I would be very careful if I were you. What you say or do next could determine your near future and if you'll still have one."

This would be terrifying for anybody else in Katya's position. Even Clint would think this was a good time to shut up, but it was Katya's goal to rile her up as much as she could. Because the only way Natasha was going to let it out was by destroying her later. In a good way. Upstairs. 

She shrugged indifferently, scooting to the edge of her seat. "You want to live the rest of your life alone? Okay.'' Before she could lift her butt off the couch, she was yanked down by the front of her shirt. One blink of her eyes and Natasha was on top of her, her fingers digging into the tight muscles of her arms. Katya bit back a smirk. She knew the pictures hit her hard.

''You're not going anywhere.''

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

just get to me in time, okay?

a/n: just reminiscing about 2019 when I was in my hardcore frank era...

warnings: frank castle x nurse!reader, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, patching up frank's wounds, blood and gore, kissing, reader has a cat

word count: 1660

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As your cat suddenly jumped off his comfy spot on your belly with his head smooshed beneath the cliche romance novel you were unwinding with this evening, his sudden alertness and the loud meows that accompanied it caused you to put your book down, “hey, what’s up, baby?” you slowly got up from the couch and followed after him though the dim apartment, “we talked about this, Cosmo,” you gently warned the loud exclamations that he released in one of the shadowy corners of your living room, “you talking to the air just makes me think there are ghosts here.”

When he then began to purr, the soothing sound emanating from the darkness was accompanied by a familiar voice, “sorry to interrupt your thrilling Friday night, Y/n.”

“Jesus christ, Frank!” you exclaimed, nearly jumping out of your skin, “you almost gave me a heart attack! Don’t you know how to knock? Or even just use the front door?”

“Sorry,” he stepped into the light, supporting some of his weight on one of your dining room chairs as Cosmo happily rubbed his fluffy body against his heavy boots. 

As the soft light emanating from the tall lamp in the corner illuminated your friend's form, the blood soaking his dark clothes and the bruises across his cheekbone made his intentions for this late-night visit crystal clear, the smile fell from your lips at once.

“And here I was hoping you just felt lonely,” you joked, trying to hide your heavy sigh, “wanted to come by for a game of scrabbled or something,” your feet already carrying you towards your kitchen, you called over your shoulder, “I’ll go get the first aid kit, you know where the bathroom is,” a sentence you had probably said to him about a dozen times by now. 

After retrieving the first aid kit, or more like first aid box with the way you had expanded the contents out of precaution after you began to help Frank, it now no longer fit in the small neat cross marked container, but a bigger clear plastic box you used to store old mementoes in, one that conveniently didn’t fit under your bathroom sink anymore. 

“So, what is it tonight, huh?” you sat it down on the edge of the sink and glanced over at your wounded friend, now situated on the side of the tub. 

Your cat still glued to his side, one of his hands tangled in the soft grey fur behind Cosmo’s ears as the other one worked at shredding his black jacket, “just some idiot with a knife that got a bit lucky,” his breathing got heavy as he struggled with the other sleeve. 

Kneeling down in front of him, you swiftly took over his actions, removing his outerwear the rest of the way for him, “where?”

“Shoulder and a few down here,” he motioned towards the large red stain on his midsection, his fingers already beginning to lift up his t-shirt. 

“Don’t,” you swatted his hand away and lifted yourself up enough to fish a pair of scissors out of the box.

“Oh, come on,” his head tilted to the side as he tried to argue, “I am barely hurt, I can take my shirt off just fine.”

“I know you can,” your face stayed stony, “you can do so many very impressive things, just not right now, tough guy,” as you from the bottom hem began to cut open the black cotton that clung to his skin, “besides, I got you some spare clothes just in case.”

“You didn’t have to do that-”

“Frank, just say thanks,” you sighed, taking the last snip on your journey from the bottom up to the collar, “I basically got them for free anyway with how cheap they were.”

Lifting yourself up more, being momentarily at eye level with him as he watched you slice open the shoulders and peel the fabric off, “thank you, ma'am.”

After thoroughly washing your hands and sliding on a pair of gloves, you took a closer look at his gnarly cuts, gently inspecting his bruised cheek as well to make sure it wasn’t anything else. 

“I don’t have any more of the fun stuff,” you spoke as you fished out the rest of the supplies needed, “but I can offer you some aspirin if you want.” 

“Nah,” his low voice rumbled as you wetted a cotton ball with some saline, “just do it.”

“Alright,” you exhaled and began to dap and clean his wounds, the only indication of pain you received being the uncontrollable twitch his eyes occasionally did as they tracked your movements, washing over his tender flesh and wiping the crimson away. 

“I see this one’s healing quite nicely,” you commented as you caught sight of the newly scabbed over bullet wound that you’d patched up not too long ago, “at least you didn’t go and get yourself shot again, so that’s always something,” you tossed the last of the stained cotton rounds into the sink as your gloved fingers then began to thread the curved needle already clasped in the cold metal of your forceps. 

“Wasn’t hard to mess it up when you patched it up so good,” he watched you, both of his hands now simply resting on the porcelain of the tub, his novelty haven worn off slightly, so Cosmo had freed his good hand and moved on to curling up on the bathmat by the door. 

“You ready?” you asked out of habit before you let the needle pierce his flesh. 

“Yep,” he replied, a series of heavy breaths and low grunts followed suit as you closed up the cuts tainting his already scared abdomen, the muscles tensing slightly underneath your fingers as you did. 

Stoic as ever, Frank took every stitch like the brick wall that he was, not complaining once as his wounds one by one got closed up and then covered with large white bandages. 

As you worked on the last one that luckily missed his collarbone, your sutures slowed down as the storm within your mind grew. Now situated beside him on the edge of the bathtub, it was hard for him not to notice how your bottom lip had begun to tremble. 

“Please don’t-…” he spoke, averting his usually unwavering gaze as you tied off the last knot and cut the thread, “you already know that you can’t tell me anything that will make me stop, so please don’t ask me.”

“Frank, I would never-…” you set the tools down and blinked back at him, honestly slightly offended that he’d even ask you after all of this time, “you know me well enough to be certain that I’d never ask you to change, to stop before-…” shutting your eyes a second, you said, “look, I can do a lot, but I can’t do everything. What happens the day when you stumble in here with something that I can’t just fix, that I don’t have the right means to-…” you let your head momentarily slumped down against the mass of his shoulder, “and if you refuse to let me call an ambulance? Or even worse, if you don’t get here in time, if you don’t get to me, if you go and die on me in some ally somewhere, I just-…” your voice broke as your forehead softly collided with his own, “just get to me in time, okay?” you felt sharp tears sting the corners of your eyes, “come to me even if it’s just a scratch, because as brilliant as you are, I don’t trust those crappy first aid skills of yours one bit,” the essence of a smile accompanied that teasing comment as you blinked up at him once more with glossy eyes, “come to me, because if you don’t, if you get hurt, if you die, and I could have prevented that, then I don’t know how-… how-…” 

Your broken words trailed off as your eyes unintentionally flickered down towards his full lips and before you had time to think, you’d leaned in and crashed your lips against his own. 

He still tasted of blood, though that fact didn’t bother you as much as you’d imagined it would. You felt one of his large palms find the side of your face as his mind eventually caught up and he began to reciprocate the unexpected kiss. As you realised what you were doing, your anxious mind feared the worst and you swiftly tried to back up to apologise for your sudden actions, though the fingers that had travelled to the back of your head and kept you there long enough to let his lightened pecks upon your lips be enough of an answer to soothe your worries. 

“So,” his fingers lingered in your hair a moment longer as you parted ways, “I’m guessing that might have something to do with why you don’t want me dying in an ally somewhere, huh?” 

“Why?” you breathed, biting down on the soft smile that bloomed, “you got a problem with it?”

Disappearing completely in your eyes, he simply shook his head, beaming back at you as if he hadn’t just been through a meat grinder earlier tonight. 

“You know,” you eventually opened your mouth again as his intense gaze sent a shy tingle down your spine, “some patient's mom dropped off a bunch of cookies today,” you stared down at your nervous fingers as they fiddled with the fabric of one of the bulky pockets on the leg of his dark pants, “they were like insanely good, so I kinda smuggled a bunch of them home with me…”

“Oh, yeah?” a small chuckle bubbled within his throat. 

“Yeah…” you kept your gaze away from his as your thumb nervously drummed against his meaty thigh, “just thought that maybe you would like one, just since, you know, you had kinda a rough night, so it only seems fair for you to get a cookie…” 

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[iris0gardens]

〄"The thought behind those eyes"〄Wd2 Wrench x MALE!Reader

"You know, I thought dedsec was stupid until I met you."

Requested by the lovely @motorwrenchyy enjoy!

TW/Tags: Romance Male reader, slowburn, past rivalry

description: With Reader being in a rival group called The Foxes, they attempted a heist on one of dedsecs servers but got quickly busted. He was on the run but was quickly caught up to by someone with..a hammer?

"LEONA I THOUGHT WE WERE IN THE CLEAR" Y/N yelled into his coms as he ran through a alleyway. His mission was simple, retrieve the data drive and escape. However a certain Hacker group was one step ahead of him and his crew, ambushing the young male and him being forced to run off.

"We were! I double checked and everything but they seemed to have got a backdoor on us!"The female yelled back as she hysterically tried to retrieve Dedsecs current location. "Y/N, I'm trying to find out where they are now so you can plan a good escape route. dont worry" she explained as the male took a sharp turn towards another exit.

"good. I don't want to become dedshits next meal." he said as he sprinted towards a random location, in hopes to escape whatever could be after him. As soon as he left the alleyway, he looked around for an escape vehicle as he had high hopes that none of his rivals could be near. It was a typical night in San Francisco, cars everywhere, people walking and some drunkly laughing towards their friends. The young male fit in perfectly with his grey hoodie and black jeans as he put a hand in his H/C hair, looking for the perfect vehicle to take before he heard a low voice call out to him.

"hey rat! You think you can get out of this that easy?"

Y/N cursed under his breath as he slowly turned around towards the alleyway, his hand on his stungun as he expected a troupe of people. To his surprise as he turned around, he saw a singular man standing there with what seems to be a...hammer? "First of all, I am not a rat, we are foxes, dedshit. What do you need off of us?"he called out as a reply towards the man standing under an alleyway light.

"and what's with the LED mask?..kinda creepy, isn't it?" Y/N smirked with confidence behind his expression as he roasted the other male. Surprisingly enough, the LED Mask he mentioned turned into Question marks before turning into exclamation marks. "OI, I ask the questions here!" The masked man called out as he got closer.

"well, considering our circumstances, bud...neither of us have the right here." Y/N said as he pointed a finger up and made a circular motion as to mention the various people around them that were blissfully unaware of their status. "We don't want a commotion here, do we?" he asked, keeping up the confidence and the other hand on his stun gun that was in his back pocket. The masked male took a moment to think, relaxing the hammer that was leaning against his shoulder before putting it down completely with his mask turning into " _ _ ". "I hate it when the enemy makes a good point."

The guy let his hammer strive along the ground as he now stood before the other male. "look, you tried taking our data and we don't appreciate that kind of shit. Before I think about if I rather take your shins. Explain the shit you wanted to do." He growled out towards Y/N as he let go of the hammer to cross his arms. "well...how about we get some coffee and go from there?" Y/N asked, his laced with slight uncertainty of how to get out of the situation. He wasn't anticipating that his opponent wouldn't fight. "you know what? sure! Haven't had a good coffee in a second." His enemy shrugged and his masked turned into a happy expression before proceeding to walk past Y/N, taking his arm and dragging him along forcefully.

As they walked or rather the masked stranger dragging Y/N, he went through every different scenario and escape plan in his head. None of them seemed realistic enough so he let the situation happen to see how it will play out with mild curiosity behind his decision. "The name is Wrench. Fox. Wanna tell me what name you hide behind or?" That sentence snapped Y/N out of his thoughts as surprise took over his body. He definitely did not expect to hear this mans name anytime soon.

"uh..lets keep it at fox, shall we?" Y/N stated, still not believing that this mans name was Wrench.

Wrench didnt give any response as they both now walked in silence before he came to a complete stop, the young male crashing into his back as they now arrived at a coffee shop. "Here we are! you should try one of their donuts while you are here. they are the bomb!" the masked man excitedly blurred out as he walked into the store, still dragging Y/N along. "sup! your favourite customer is here!! i want two matcha lattes with a pump of vanilla and cinnamon". Y/N didn't question the strange request his masked enemy had and proceeded to look around. It definitely was an ordinary coffee shop, prints plastered around the wall, booths and even seats at the window. Wrench seemed to let Y/Ns arm go as he talked to the clerk about the weather and other topicy.

+I could run. However gaining dedshits trust might be a good play.+ Y/N thought as he proceeded to take a seat at one of the corner booths, his gaze still fixated on the masked men happily explaining some game lore to the poor clerk. "yo, Y/N I see you are at a shop...are you okay?" Leona's voice worried came through the coms he forgot he still was connected to. "dedshits man got me...however i got him to go get a coffee with me..maybe I can gain their trust and go from there.." The H/C male explained in a whisper to his teammate who simply gave him a sign and signed out of coms.

With that, Wrench got to the booth with two cups of coffee in hand as they proceeded to talk about random things at first. Noticing the similarities in their preferences, they got focused on it and had a lovely evening of laughter. "well. you arent too bad, Wrench. How about we leave the bad in the past and let my crew help yours out?" Y/N offered with a soft smile plastered onto his face.

Wrench taken aback by the reminder that the Y/N was the enemy shook his head and sighed. "no. I have no idea if we could trust you but how about this..I talk to dedsec and we get into contact with you guys? see what we could agree on so we arent in eachothers asses all the time. You are pretty nice and seem to have the smarts Fox-" "Y/N. you can call me Y/N. Thats my name" "o-oh" Did Y/N pick up a fluster in his oh?

Either way they parted for the night and soon as Wrench had said, dedsec reached out to the Foxes about a deal. So began a trade deal, dedsec helped the foxes and they did it in return. With time Y/N seemed to forgot his original plan of betraying them and started enjoying the time he spend with Wrench. They also slowly started spending time outside of dedfox missions and hung around in parks or the coffee shop they originally met in.

Here they were on the small look out point of the San Fran sign that was plastered on the mountain, having had a couple of beers, they let loose of their frustrations of society and the current government. "man fuck everyone! Why cant we just..delete the government?" Wrench slurred out as he put an arm around Y/N shoulder, putting his weight against the male who just let out a laugh.

"Wrenchiee, it isn't that easy! but don't worry. I'm sure we will fuck em up!" The H/C male replied as he put his own hand around Wrench to support him who seemingly was drunker than himself. "mmm true but I cant wait that long to tell you thissss" The blonde male blurred out, he suddenly stood up, pushing Y/N against the stone fence keeping them from falling down the mountain. "I...suck at emotions but...i like you. ever since we started hanging out more." he explained, stumbling in his words, swaving side to side as he tried to look to Y/N for a reaction.

Y/N was taken aback by that confession and looked down for a second. "I..."He muttered out as he took a second to think, his mind blinded by the alcohol couldn't muster anything sober. So with that realisation, he slowly put his hands onto Wrenchs mask who seemingly tensed up and lifted it up to his nose to expose his lips.

Wrench suddenly understood what the other male wanted to do and beat him to it by crashing his lips onto his first. They shared a passionate kiss as the night sky fell upon them. After a minute of kissing, Y/N pulled away as their lungs screamed for air, he leaned back against the fence as he let his head fall back, a big smile forming on his lips as he breathed. The other male couldn't help his smile and pushed down his mask to see his others response.

"You know, I thought dedsec was stupid until I met you." Y/N said before pulling Wrench into a hug.

There they enjoyed the night and drink happily to their hearts extend. Now knowing they have each other in this awful fight against technology.

-Wrench our beloved. I hope yall enjoyed this! i very much had fun writing it and thanks for requesting it! See yall on the next fic :3-

-not keen on constructive critism as I do this as a way to enjoy myself and share it, so PLEASE NO COMMENT ON MY WRITING STYLE UNLESS ITS A GRAMMER ERROR. THAMK YOUU-

[blackjackkent]

Karlach has an exclamation mark over her head now that she didn't have before; seems a little odd that this didn't pop earlier, since it's in response to the whole Gortash business.

"He looks the exact same as he did ten years ago. Fancier coat, I suppose. The Archduke of Baldur's Gate. What a sham. You don't *really* intend to be his ally, do you?"

Given the way things have played out, this definitely feels like Karlach having been sitting in camp brooding for the last two days and thinking about Jaheira stopping her from attacking Rakha, and then making a very deliberate decision to try and clear the air rather than letting her anger continue to fester.

She's probably really hoping for an enthusiastic denial from Rakha, which she doesn't exactly get. With Lae'zel's kidnapping, Rakha's attention is now squarely on Orin, and anyway her feelings about Gortash are complicated.

Intellectually she knows that this alliance can't last, that Gortash must die in order to save the city and stop the brain - Wyll and Jaheira have both already made that clear. But, uncomfortably, that is what the beast wants, also - to see him bleeding and smeared on the walls. And added to that... he knew her and he looked at her with happiness and did not see her as broken. And somehow that still sits as an unpleasantly inescapable little buzz in the back of her head. She is so tired of being broken.

It doesn't matter. Gortash is an afterthought at present. Orin's death comes first.

She breathes out heavily and shakes her head. "No," she mutters. "But he doesn't need to know that."

Karlach relaxes. "Fair enough," she says. "Now that he's within reach, I don't intend to let him slip away."

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 24 February 1955

We're back down to one song, and it's Teresa Brewer this time, who I know of vaguely, but who hasn't charted yet. Generally I've been finding these early female pop stars quite engaging, though - even at their worst, they're generally fun enough and they don't tend to mangle songs by adding on a Big Old Ending. There are exceptions, but they're a generally quite reliable bunch, your Kay Starrs and Rosemary Clooneys.

Let Me Go, Lover! - Teresa Brewer (peaked at No. 9)

I like the title of this one. The exclamation mark gives it a certain vigour, plus the idea of appealing to your lover to let you go is an interesting one. It's counter to how pop songs usually work - normally, it's about wanting your lover to be yours, not wanting them to let you go. Is this a break-up song? I kind of hope so...

We start with some almost-yodell-y male backing singers - and hey, we're waltzing! It's a soft, gentle vibe all round, all the better to contrast with the strident first note that Teresa sings, once she comes in. Because boy does Teresa have some pipes on her! Thankfully, she calms it down after the first line, and the result is a performance that stands out from everything else in the song, and that gets emotion across effectively, but that isn't ever overblown. I like it a lot.

Unfortunately, it's not quite the angry break-up song that the title implied, though there is still a pretty damning critique buried somewhere in here. You see, Teresa's fallen for a particular somebody, and is begging futilely for them to "Set me free / From your spell". It's not that she's in a relationship she wants out of - she just wants out of loving this person.

Normally, I'd be annoyed by this sort of overblown rhetoric and use of slightly overdramatic metaphors (see Dickie Valentine with The Finger of Suspicion). Normally being the operative word. Because here, I quite like it. I think it's because Teresa punctuates it with some nice little realistic details that really paint a clear picture of what's really going on. In particular I love the painfully specific remark that "You don't want me / But you want me / To go on wanting you". It's a situation that feels real - she's in love with somebody who doesn't love her, but rather than do the kind thing and let her down gently, they're stringing her along, enjoying the feeling of being wanted. There's a very realistic cruelty to it.

In light of that, I can see why Teresa feels like she's under a curse of some kind, and I feel for her when she says that "Now I pray that / You will say that / We're through". Because that's what she really wants here. She knows her love doesn't want her, but she wants them to stop stringing her along and kill off her hope for good. Rationally, she knows there's no hope, but she needs it confirmed. Something in the futility of "Turn me loose / What's the use?" really drives that home - she's fully aware how pointless it is, and she still can't do anything about it.

Interestingly, the song was apparently based on a song called "Let Me Go, Devil" that was about alcoholism, which I think possibly adds another layer to it. Certainly, it brings out the self-destructive, desperate, harmful quality of it all, just like an addiction.

Musically, it's fine, if nothing stunning. That said, I do like the harmonies on the "Let me go" lines, right at the end, where the backing singers harmonise beautifully. It's a pretty end to a pretty - if surprisingly sad - song.

Well, I enjoyed that more than I thought I would on the first listen through. The lyrics were simple enough, but I really did start empathising for Teresa, and knowing the song's backstory made me see it in a new light. Cool stuff!

Favourite not-quite-a-breakup-song of the bunch: Let Me Go, Lover!

[radicalrascals]

Quinn scratched the back of his head and flustered he laughed a little, before he put up his finger to signal Gabi to wait. "Not without cake. How does that sound?" He hurried back inside to slip into the kitchen where he got out a worn-down little book full of handwritten notes. It was the opposite of a grimoire; a manual to the mundane, a recipe book for everyday life. He flipped through his book to a page labelled 'Hot Milk' with the vague but helpful instructions of using a pan and to not, under any circumstances, use the electric kettle – as made double and triple clear by the warnings being underlined in red with multiple exclamation marks. That definitely was a story he was not going to share.

But despite the unfamiliar approaches, Quinn managed to heat up the milk with a cinnamon stick and some pieces of chocolate, and transferred it to two mugs he’s probably had his whole life. Broken a dozen times and magically fixed after. Only then did he realise he forgot to get the cake out of the freezer, and so he had to serve two rock hard, frozen solid pieces, that he hoped Gabi would defrost.

"Well," Quinn had been stalling for long enough now, "His name is Cris and he’s incredibly charming, handsome and kind. We met in town, actually. It was pouring and he helped me tame my umbrella. We just… I don’t know. It’s nothing serious." But he wouldn’t complain if it turned out to be. "We had a coffee and I think we’ll meet again. No, I hope we do. I feel like a teenager again because of him. Can you imagine?"

"Ok, well... that's a terrifying thought." She was mostly teasing as she nudged her father in response to the hair scruff. "Hey, come on now, I learned from the best. You and mom? You're the best out there. I'm just glad I could help." Gabi grinned, wrapping her arm around Quinn's shoulders in a half-hug.

When he mentioned having met someone, the young woman froze to the spot and grabbed his arm. "Um, excuse me? You certainly have not mentioned anything. Come on! Spill!"

[nevarrhoe]

mea culpa - four (m.m)

SUMMARY: "mea culpa" (exclamation - noun/legal term)

used as an acknowledgement of one's fault or error.

↪ in which matt murdock accidentally falls in love with the district attorney's daughter. (masterlist + playlist)

warnings: afab reader/fem pronouns, age gap, swearing, no explicit smut in this chapter, but arguing & angst

MINORS DNI - this has been clearly marked as having explicit content and with these clear warnings in place, you are reading this whilst being aware of said content and i bare no responsibility for what you to choose to consume. with that in mind, if someone who a) does not have their age in their bio or b) does so and is a minor, you will be blocked.

this took me far too long i'm sorry!! deadline week really hit me lmaooo and also writer's block. anyways, i hope you enjoy. and also sorry again for the end :)

-jazz xx

What was meant to be one night with Matt Murdock quickly turned into two, and then three, and then four. And then it was a week, and before you knew it, an entire month had passed. Twenty-eight days of nothing but bliss and what Matt was sure was the closest thing he had ever experienced to heaven. It was like you existed in a bubble: just you and him, locked away in his apartment, eating Chinese or fucking on every viable surface. It was nirvana in a way you had never thought existed.

He was everything you needed, in every sense: grounding and warm in conversation, with a sharp wit and dry humour. He also made you feel things you hadn’t thought possible. You figured that was the difference between the college boys you used to fuck around with, compared to a weathered man in his thirties. That fact had worried you at first - the age difference, the class difference, the everything difference - but none of it mattered when you were together. You and Matt matched each other in a weird way. 

He’d spent his entire life searching for the next thing: the next case, the next bad guy to take down, the next adventure. When he was with you, he felt satisfied. There was no scratch to itch. No thirst to find something greater. He was content. 

And for you, your focus was always pissing off your father. Matthew was just old enough and just enough of a good man and a good lawyer to do that. Not that you ever planned on your old man finding out about your relationship, but he provided an opportunity that felt just sexy enough to fulfil your rebellious side.

Maybe it was more than that. Maybe there was a connection. Maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to give it too much thought. Thinking ruined everything. 

“Good morning.”

Matt woke you as usual; strong arms wrapped around your waist and coarse hands roaming over your stomach. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of your neck and pulled you towards him. It was clear what his intentions were - the same as they had been last night and every night before that. 

“Morning,” you rolled over and pressed a kiss to his jaw. “I would love to stay, Matthew, but my dad needs me in the courthouse at nine.”

He let out a low grumble. “I didn’t realise that you worked for him.”

“I don’t,” you grinned at his expression. “But in order for him to keep paying off my credit card, I gotta run a few errands for him every now and then. That way, I don’t have to work and…” you leant in a little closer, pressing a kiss to his ear. “You get me all to yourself, all the time.”

“Okay, yeah,” Matt huffed, pressing a hungry kiss to your lips. “I can deal with that.”

“Good,” you smiled. “So you’ll let me go?”

“What choice do I have?”

“None,” you replied. 

Rolling out of bed, you scooped up the clothes that had been discarded the night before. Matt had taken you to Josie’s, and then you’d stumbled back here and resumed your usual activities. It was rare that you went out to drink in public; anywhere past Midtown was out of the question because of your friends, and Josie’s because of his. Last night, however, Foggy and Karen had both been working late so you’d had the chance to hang out there for a few hours without being seen. 

You shoved your blouse into your bag and picked up a shirt of Matt’s, pulling it over your head. He didn’t protest, instead laid back in bed with his arms folded behind his head as you pitter-pattered about. It was nice to listen to. 

“I’ll see you later,” you softly pushed back some of his hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

Things had never been this intimate in the beginning. The first few times you’d stayed over, there was no hanging about in the morning. You would normally just up and leave - sometimes before Matt had even woken up. Then, you’d started staying for coffee, and then breakfast, and now…you never left without saying goodbye. It felt wrong. 

“Or,” Matt grabbed you by the waist, pulling you back into bed. “You could just stay.”

He pressed a kiss to your lips, purposefully centring your core on top of - as it was often so eloquently put - his morning wood. You couldn’t help but let out a soft moan, tangling your hand in his hair. It felt impossible to get enough of him. Every time you thought he’d given it his all, he gave more. That had been why you’d kept coming back - at first, at least. 

“Matthew,” you grumbled. “I can’t. I have to go, I have to shower before I get to my dad’s office-”

“- shower here,” he cut you off, lips momentarily straying from your neck. “Wear my clothes. I’m sure I have a suit that will fit you.”

“Mmm,” you hummed. “Because that won’t be a dead giveaway, will it?”

Matt paused, juniper eyes seemingly finding yours for just a split second. It was a tense subject -you and him, and…well, everyone else. Your relationship would be a little more than just frowned upon. You’d probably get a bollocking from your dad and maybe a limit on your credit card but it was more than that for him. His entire career would be blown up. 

“I wish…” Matt spoke, but then stopped. 

“What is it, Matt?” you asked. 

“I wish we didn’t have to hide,” he murmured. 

That was the first time he’d ever said anything that implied your relationship was more than just a fuck: if you were just sleeping around, what was there to hide? Obviously, you hung out at his apartment but what if he wanted…more. Like dinner, and dates, and things that normal couples did. All things that were elements of a relationship built on something other than mere craving. 

“Yeah,” you softly sighed. “I mean…what we can do? Sneaking around might get old but I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, it’s alright for now,” Matt replied.

For now. 

–

You made it to the courtroom just after 9AM. 

The weather was warm that day, so you’d opted for a little black dress (Gucci, of course) and some black heels (Chanel, stolen from your mother). All eyes were on you as soon as you entered the courtroom: that was natural, given your relation to the District Attorney, but also because you were the nicest thing to look at in a ten-mile radius. There was nothing but old men, stretched out down the corridor with their brief-cases and creepy smiles. 

And then, hanging out by the vending machines, was Matt Murdock. He dared not acknowledge your presence but even just seeing him made you feel better. 

“Darling!” 

“Dad,” you spun around on your heel. “Good morning.”

“You’re late,” your father replied. “Where have you been? You’re late.”

“It’s 9:03.”

“Traffic,” you shrugged. “You’re lucky I’m here at all so I suggest you do not talk down to me-”

“- don’t get mouthy,” he cut you off. “Not here.”

“Fine,” you huffed. “What do you want me doing?”

He shoved a pile of folders into your hand with a fake smile. “I need you to look at the alibis for the Thomspon case. There are holes everywhere and it’s well below my pay grade to find them.” 

“Holes?” you frowned. 

“Yes. Holes. The defendant’s alibi is about as reliable as you after a few martinis,” he explained. “You have a law degree. I’m sure you can figure it out, sweetheart.”

“Right,” you muttered. 

“Take them to my office,” he said. “One of Thompson’s attorneys will be around this afternoon to come and collect them. Tread lightly with them. They haven’t been happy with me since they realised I’ve basically got this one in the bag.”

“Another unfair win for the DA?” you innocently asked. 

 “A very fair win,” your father shot back. “I’m surprised they’re letting him go to court at all with the lack of evidence that they have. It’s not going to be a good day when they lose.”

Your father’s office was situated at the back of the courthouse. The man had overhauled as much as he could without the city kicking up a fuss about it being a protected landmark. The walls had been stripped and painted white, and all the furniture replaced with black leather chairs and glass desks. There was no art - no books, no pictures, nothing. He’d spent millions on it and it was somehow still alarmingly more boring than the grey rooms the attorneys, defendants and witnesses had to sit in down the hall.

That was telling, wasn’t it? Maybe your dad wasn’t in charge of funding for every last room in this place but hell. He didn’t exactly look out for the little guys. It was a wonder he kept getting voted back in. That was probably another matter of money. 

Your task made for a very boring morning in a very boring place. There were hundreds and hundreds of papers to look through; testaments from witnesses, alibis from the defendant, CCTV footage that had him confirmed in what felt like twenty places at once. You didn’t have much time to go through them either, not when his attorneys were due to collect the evidence at midday. 

“There’s no fucking case here at all,” you quietly muttered to yourself. Your dad had been right - for once. His lawyers were doing him dirty by letting him go to trial with every piece of evidence pointing against him. 

And it wasn’t until you got to the last page that you saw his lawyer’s signature and realised who exactly those lawyers were: an M.Murdock and F. Nelson.

Fuck.

Leaning back in your chair, you glanced up at the clock: 11:58. Either Matt or Foggy would be here any second to collect the files, and you could only hope it wasn’t the one you’d been sleeping with for the last month. That would have been an awkward conversation. 

But fate was a bitch, right? And you knew the second that you heard the tapping of a cane that Matt was right outside your door. 

He knocked twice. Matt always knocked twice. 

You stood up, brushing off your skirt and pulling open the door. “Mr Murdock - please, come in.”

Matt had you pushed up against the door the second it was closed, large hands gripping your waist and lips attacking your neck. Normally, you would have been completely there for it - there was an expensive sofa that you could fuck on right there. It was just that your mind was a little…preoccupied. And he picked up on it right away. 

“Hey,” Matt frowned, hand ghosting over your cheek. “What’s up?”

“It’s uh…” you pulled back and pushed his hands off of you, moving to lean against the desk. 

“Is it the way your dad spoke to you earlier?” he asked. His face was etched with concern - and maybe a little with overprotectiveness. “Because I overheard that and I didn’t like it one bit-”

“- it’s your case, Matt,” you cut him off. “I just signed off on the evidence on behalf of my dad. We’re - I mean he’s happy to take it to court but I feel like I should tell you that it’s a guaranteed win for his office.”

Matt frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The evidence in those files isn’t going to help your client one bit,” you quietly explained. “And we have a legal duty to deliver it to the courts.” 

“Thomspon is innocent.”

“You might think so but his entire defence is hearsay. The victim’s statement is pretty much bulletproof and there’s CCTV footage that places him at the crime scene,” you continued. “If you want my advice, I’d get him a plea deal and call it a day.”

Matt’s body language changed in a second. He took a step back from you, dark features etched with an entirely new type of frown that you were yet to see on him. You didn’t like it. 

“Are you giving me legal advice-”

“- no!” you snapped. “I’m just trying to help you. I know you put your heart and soul into this case-”

“- and you’re about to blow it apart!” he cut you off. “Where did you even get all this?”

“This evidence was delivered to the office. I’ve signed it and I’m sending it off once you’ve signed it too. I was just trying to prewarn you.”

You’d come this far without your differences getting between you. Now, it felt like they’d hit like a bullet. 

“Thomspon is an innocent man,” Matt lowly repeated. “And you’ve just assisted in providing evidence that’s going to send him to prison -”

“- why are you acting like I’ve done this on purpose?” you cut him off. “Like I said, I’m just doing my job and you’re just doing yours. It’s not that deep.”

“Not that deep?” he scoffed. “Maybe not to you. This is all just money to you and your father, isn’t it? Just a throwaway case, maybe.” 

“No!” you exclaimed. “Not at all. I didn’t mean to get involved. I’m just the messenger, Matt-”

“- no, it’s more than that.”

Matt paused for a second - though it felt much longer. He seemed angry at you but you were pissed at him. Not only for kicking off at you, but for putting you on the same level as your father when you had tried so hard not to let that happen. How many hours had he spent convincing you that you were your own person? Encouraging you to stand up for yourself?

“We’ll never see things the same way,” Matt continued. “At the end of the day, I’m me, and you’re just…you’re a spoilt little rich girl.” 

You froze. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“I…” he trailed off. “It was easy to ignore at first but I think this has shown me. We’re from different worlds and no matter how hard you try, you’re never going to understand-”

“- you should watch your mouth, Matthew Murdock,” you took a step towards him, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I might be a spoilt little rich girl but I would much rather be that than a man who runs his fucking mouth and kicks off without even listening to what I have to say.”

“Maybe I didn’t word it the best,” he calmed down for a second, trying to gather himself. “What I meant was-”

“- oh, I know what you meant!” you laughed incredulously. “Just take the files and get the fuck out. This was never going to work anyways.”

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

The Book - Satan x Reader (Explicit)

***

Springtime cleaning is never easy for Satan; this year might be a little different.

Made for my 800 followers celebration ❤! I wanted to thank all my Obey Me stans who have stuck around, even if I haven't written for the fandom in a while. This one is for you sweethearts, I hope you all enjoy 💕💕💕

***

When you had offered to help Satan clean his room, it was under the assumption that you would actually be able to clean anything.  

"Don't touch that! It's a first edition !"  

You sighed, putting the book back down on a dangerously growing tower of paper.  

"Satan, I need to touch the books to be able to store them."  

A light blush covered the blonde's cheeks as he frowned, moue partially hidden by the enormous pile of books in his arms.   

"I know that," he mumbled. "I'm just… protective of them." He placed them down gently, taking the tome on top with near reverence before placing it on one of his shelves. "I've had some of these for millennia."  

You tried to imitate his gesture, grabbing a book of the floor as delicately as you could, almost dropping it when Satan made an outraged exclamation: "No, no, not that one !"  

He was at your side in an instant, removing the book from your grip and caressing it like a hurt child. "You can't just grab any book you see. This is an opus of dark magic, just opening it could have killed you."  

You backed away a little, eyeing the book cautiously: "Got it."  

You stood unsurely as he placed it in another bookshelf, fidgeting. "Why did you tell me to come if I can't even touch half of what's in here ?" you asked.  

The blush came back to his pale cheeks, and he looked at the floor in embarrassment: "I just thought you would make good company."  

"I see," you commented pensively, sitting down on his work chair. "And, pray tell, what kind of company did you have in mind ?"  

His face went scarlet as he garbled indignantly: "What- I had no such thing in mind! My intentions were as pure as they could have been !"  

You laughed and he honest to God pouted, looking like the world's tallest angry kitten.  

"Funny thing for a demon to say, don't you think ?"  

"You shouldn't tease me like that," he scowled, leaning against your chair. "I can get pretty mean, you know? I'm not the Avatar of Wrath for nothing."  

You tugged on his tie playfully, bringing his lips a hair away from yours.  

"I could use a reminder."  

His eyes glowed with something dark, and he stayed silent for a moment before pulling a book from behind you, laying it in your lap.  

"This one. This one you can touch."  

You took it, unsure of what he wanted you to do, caressing the spine gently. It was ancient, the corner of each page marked by time and wear, faded stains imprinted into the hardened leather. The title was hard to decipher, the golden calligraphy almost entirely washed off. You knew very little demonish, but it was clear the language it was written in wasn't from this realm. It was a human book.  

"Be careful with it," Satan whispered against your ear, giving a warm kiss to your nape. "I could sell Mammon online and it wouldn't even come close to covering its cost."  

You hummed, holding the book tightly as he gently sucked on your neck, teeth sinking into the skin. "Page 134," he said simply, breath warm against the bruise he had just left.  

You let out a low moan as you tentatively opened the book, his mouth back on your pulse. Your fingers trembled slightly against the pages as his hands went down your shirt and into your bra, cupping your chest possessively. You glanced down at the book as it sat almost forgotten in your lap, focusing on it long enough to realize something. "Satan," you started, breath hitching as his fingers pinched your nipples playfully, "I can't read this."  

"You can't read Latin? A little disappointing," he smirked, hands nimbly detaching your bra. He hummed appreciatively as your breasts were freed, sinking to his knees to get on their level. "How about now ?"  

You looked down, finding the letters morphing into English right under your fingers. "Better," you breathed out.  

You quickly found the page as his warm mouth sucked on your right breast, bitting down a moan. His tongue moved with purpose around your nipple, its sandpaper-like texture between painful and impossibly pleasurable.  

"Wrath," you started reading in a shaky voice, "from Latin ira, also known as rage or fury, is described as an uncontrollable feeling of anger towards the self or others. I-It was birthed from the bleeding heart of the fallen angel Lucifer as he… tore apart his own wings, enraged with his Father."  

Mouth still on you, he pulled down your pants, fingers lightly pushing your underwear to the side in the same loving way he handled his books. You hissed when he fondled your clit, not missing the pleased look in his eyes. "You're doing great," he said against your breast, his breath teasing your sensitive nipple.  

You tried to focus on the words, but your sight was getting hazy as his fingers worked your pussy with practiced ease.  

"The raw… the raw energy of that hatred took physical form, materializing into the tangible world….as a creature of pure fury. Satan."  

He pulled off your chest with a loud pop, emerald eyes watching you playfully: "You called?"  

You smiled down at him, one of your hands going to his hair to pet it, and he leaned hungrily into the touch. While he was distracted, you kept going:  

"For centuries, the demonic child ran wild, feeding off Lucifer's hate and devouring the faith of humankind, plunging many into despair."  

"'Despair'?" he almost grinned, his fingers toying with the growing wetness between your legs. "Tell me, does this make you feel despair ?"  

Two fingers were suddenly shoved into you, and you cried out in surprise, almost dropping the book. You melted into the chair as he started moving them, fast and sharp. He licked a patch of skin inside your thigh, and you trembled, moaning wantonly.  

"Keep reading."  

"Satan…" you complained, your legs weakly crossing around him. He added a third finger, accelerating the pace, and your eyes fluttered close.  

"Darling," came the low voice from under you in a warning tone, "the book won't finish reading itself."  

You could have thrown the damn book out the window. You tried your best to get the next words out, the tip of his fingers finding the perfect spot and interrupting you every few seconds.  

"It was said -ah- that… one look from his many eyes… w-would burn your skin, destroying y-your very flesh."   

Your nails dug into your thighs as you felt your orgasm coming, heat pooling into your stomach.  

"Look at me."  

And you did. He looked so perfect like this, hair messy, between your legs, and yet so very much in control. His eyes were dark, bottomless, the pupils slanted like an animal's as he roughly worked in fingers into you, and you remembered in that moment what he truly was.  

You came, hard, riding the wave of pleasure on his hand. You panted as you slowly came down the high, his digits gently pulling out of you. He lapped at them seductively, making sure you watched him lick off your juices. You made a whining sound, and he laughed.

"See? Aren't I mean ?"

You laughed breathlessly, pulling him back up to kiss him. His lips met yours, tongues interlocking lazily. You pulled away first, still spent, a sting of saliva sloppily connecting his lips to yours.

"I dunno," you objected teasingly, "I thought that was pretty nice of you."

His eyes glowed at the challenge, and you yelped as he took you in his arms, sitting on the chair himself and planting you on his lap.  

"Page 135."

You stared at him incredulously, and he nodded pointedly to the book still held tightly against your chest.  

"You're not serious."  

"Why, I do believe I am," he smirked, making it a point of undoing his belt noisily. "Don't you think it's a riveting story? We might as well finish it." He pulled out his pants slightly, letting his clothed cock spring out under the fabric of his boxers. You swallowed with difficulty.

"He became so powerful," you croaked out as he stroked himself, "he surpassed his now fallen angel brothers in pure force, until one faithful day, h-his anger turned from humankind to the dark prince of hell."

You eyed him disbelievingly and he only smiled smugly, long fingers working his length rhythmically.  

"You fought Diavolo ?"

He breathed out a laugh, flashing his pointed canines, and you felt your insides throb: "Water under the bridge now." 

He pulled his cock, the thick tip of the member covered in pre-cum, and your hips moved almost automatically at the sight.  

"Back in the day," he said, and something beneath the obvious lust sounded nostalgic in his voice, "most of my emotions weren't really mine. I only attacked humans because Lucifer blamed them for what happened to Lilith." His hands gently went to your sides, stroking the skin there absentmindedly. "When Lucifer was forced to become Diavolo's pet, his anger shifted towards him. And so I came to kill Diavolo."

Your expression softened, and you brought your fingers to his cheeks, caressing them softly.  

"I'm sor-"  

"Shh, don't apologize. It's why my feelings for you mean so much to me," he smiled, bringing you up to line your warmth with his dick. "Are you ready ?"

You nodded, giving him a sweet kiss, and he pushed into you, groaning. You bit your lips at his size, but his hands held you firmly in place, clutching your hips even as you finally took all of him. You could see he was trying to regain control of himself, his breathing labored as little desperate sounds came out of his mouth.

"K-keep reading."

You took the book smushed between the two of you with shaky hands.

"The battle t-that ensued shook the e-earth and the heavens..."

He lifted you up, slowly, before bringing you back down on his cock, and you almost cried out at the feeling.

"S-satan, maddened with power-ah-, fought the prince of hell like a rabid d-dog."

He picked up the pace, moving you with inhuman strength as you could do nothing but stand like a ragdoll. You felt him pulsate inside you with each thrust, the words getting harder and harder to read.

"B-but his efforts were in vain -please, please fuck me- and h-he was slain right -ah- where he stood-!" you stammered incoherently, spreading your legs wider so he'd reach even deeper.

His hips pistoned into you one last time, hitting your most sensitive spot, and you came undone, tears welling up in your eyes. Somewhere you registered the book falling onto the floor, but you couldn't care less, eyes shutting close in the ripple of pleasure. A few more thrusts into your tightened pussy and Satan came, muffling a loud whine by harshly biting your shoulder. You felt him fill you as you slumped against him, drained. He kissed the reddened spot in apology before whispering in your ear.

"You did great."

You let out a tired sound of agreement, lights still flashing inside your eyes. He bent down slightly, holding your limp body with a firm hand as he picked up the book off the carpet.

"I do wish you had taken better care of this though."

You glared at him as he handed it back to you with a small laugh: "I'm joking."

You hoisted yourself up on weak legs, cum immediately running down your thighs. "You're lucky you're better at sex than at jokes."

He winced playfully in mock hurt, grabbing a tissue to gently wipe your legs. "You had a sentence left," he reminded you gently.

You opened the book again, finding the line where you had left off as he pulled his pants back up. 

"But our Sins can never truly die," you read, "and so he came back to hell as a demon, finding a place as one of the prince's hellish generals alongside his six sinful brothers, forever keeping humanity... from true happiness."

He got up, leaving a praising kiss on your forehead before closing the book and putting it back on its shelf. "That's the story," he finally said with his back to you. "What did you think ?"

You stayed pensive for a moment, silent, mind stuck on those last few words. True happiness. "I think," you started, "that they were wrong about that last part."

He looked back at you, something surprised in his verdant eyes.

"How so?"

You smiled at him.

"You make me truly happy."

[cuchufletapl]

Free! (2013) is a sports anime that (while not being an actual shojo) caters to teenage girls, and one of the main draws of the show is what I like to call fujo-bait: the main cast is all attractive teenage boys whose relationships with each other are very easily read as gay.

And that's not just fandom doing fandom things, it's very obviously intentional. I guess it's a sort of queerbaiting, except, unlike western media, there's no "will they, won't they" aspect to it — the anime isn't marked as a BL (probably because it allows it to be aired during daytime[1: edit below] and to be marketed with further reach), so everyone who watches it knows that none of the ships are gonna be canon. The almost "kisses" and the pushing against a wall and the ambiguous dialogue and such are meant as fanservice to inspire doujinshis and other fanworks in Japanese fujoshi fandom.

Here's a pretty good video on this subject in general, if you're interested.

Anyway.

Enter Yuri!!! On Ice in 2016.

A sports anime. Not marketed as a Boys' Love anime. If I remember correctly, it also aired at daytime[2: edit below].

Both the Japanese fujoshis and western otakus thought that we knew what to expect. Something along the lines of Free! and any other anime that had decided to lean into queer fandoms as a marketing tactic.

I remember when in episode one Victor stood up from the bath completely naked and people where like, "Holy shit, okay, they're starting really strong with the fanservice." The couple episodes that followed it, when Victor was still coming very strong onto Yuuri, there were jokes about how the amount of exclamation marks in the title seemed to correlate with how gay and fujo-baity an anime was gonna be. That's all we thought YoI was ever going to be, like its predecessors in the genre had been.

And then they kiss in episode seven. And actual, honest-to-god kiss.

People lost their shit.

Tumblr's servers collapsed.

The censorship of the kiss gave way to heated discussions on whether it had been a hug instead, but their faces' angle and the audience at the rink's reaction made it clear that it hadn't been — particularly when the show kept going and things like Yuuri and Victor getting engaged in front of the Sagrada Familia happened, further cementing that their relationship was textually, explicitly romantic.

It also reframed every interaction they had had up until that point, because then, oh, it's not just fanservice for the fujoshi watchers, it's build-up to an actual romance.

Obviously I can't speak for everyone who watched YoI, but in my corner of fandom and what I saw outside of it, everyone was shipping victuuri but no one was hoping for them to be canon. I can't emphasize enough how unexpected it was.

I believe that was the point, also. I think (I'm not sure, maybe I'm misremembering, I can't find the statement, take it with a grain of salt) that Kubo said something to that effect — she wanted to make a sports anime that wasn't (strictly speaking) a BL and that had an m/m couple as endgame.

A lot of people getting into Yuri!!! On Ice after that go in with the knowledge that victuuri is canon, so I think some of that "cultural reset" feeling may be lost? Particularly if they're not familiar with other sports anime and manga like Haikyuu!!, Kuroko no Basket or the aforementioned most egregious example, Free! — because they haven't experienced what the fandoms of not-canonically-gay-but-still-very-gay animes are like. (On the other hand, it allows y'all to view and enjoy the anime as an actual romance from the get-go, which is cool.)

[1] edit: so I recently learned that it's a myth that BL/yuri can't be aired during daytime. Actually, most anime except really popular series (or kids' television) is broadcast late at night anyway, even if they're not considered to be 18+. That probably included Free!, given that it first aired on Tokyo MX, which is known for late-night anime according to Wikipedia. Sorry, I should've fact-checked that before posting!

[2] edit: no, it didn't and I wasn't remembering correctly. YoI airing during daytime as an explanation for why the kiss was censored is a rumour that's been going around in the fandom since the beginning (see above for limited broadcasting of yuri/BL not even being a thing). I've taken it at face value for years, but it's patently not true. dragonaeve set me straight in the replies: Yuri!!! On Ice aired past 2am. Sorry again!

I don't think anyone should be permitted to watch Yuri On ICE and judge it unless they have not watched the first two seasons and one movie of Free! before. You just cannot understand the cultural impact without.

[dracowars]

Hi could you write something where the reader is on the place of Hermione on the manor during DH1. And Narcissa sees her memories and finds out she's with Draco and how happy he looks with her. Happy ending please🥺 also Hufflepuff reader

daffodil | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x hufflepuff!reader

word count: 2,3k

summary: where narcissa is y/n's last hope

a/n: rip helen mccrory <3

warnings: angst, torture, mentions of blood

universe: harry potter

Trying to suppress your tears, you have to helplessly watch as your close friends Harry, Ron and Hermione are pushed away from the large, dark room to the basement, leaving you alone. Not actually alone, but in the sense of everyone who remains in this room now, will not help you out of here. It all began so well and was going smoothly.

Your plan was almost perfect, it should not have failed. Nevertheless, you were caught by Death Eaters and taken to Malfoy Manor, the mansion of the Malfoy family, which ironically also includes your boyfriend. Draco, of course, did not know about your plan, otherwise he might have accidentally given something away. You wanted to tell him, but you could not bring yourself to do it. You did not want to disappoint your friends and risk your plan. Anyway, it seems like Draco does not know what his own family is up to either.

“So, you are the pathetic little Hufflepuff girl who sniffed around in my dungeon in Gringotts and stole, huh?”, Bellatrix directs her sharp words at you after she made sure that her sister safely locked your friends in the cellar. “Speak!”

“I do not know what you are talking about”, you lie to her, your whole body visibly shaking in fear. You have heard numerous stories about Bellatrix Lestrange, and one was worse than the other. She is merciless and will not stop until she gets what she wants and that is exactly why you are not quite sure yourself why you suddenly have the audacity to lie directly into her face in this moment when it is obvious that you definitely know what she is talking about.

“Do not lie to me, you cheeky brat! How did you get my sword!?”, she furiously screams at you all of a sudden, anger in her eyes, making you shrink back a little. With her crazy sparkling eyes, she takes another step towards you until you retreated so far back against the wall that you have no way out, no way to escape her.

Before you can answer, however, you already feel the tip of her wand against your throat and you have to swallow hard as she drills it deeper, an insane smile on her pale lips.

“Well, if you do not want to speak, I will gladly force you to speak”, she giggles wickedly and before you know it, she harshly grabs you by the arm and forces you onto the cold wooden floor. You can intercept your fall with your hands in the last moment. Scared, you turn around to face her, your gaze falling on Narcissa, who watches the scene unfold in front of her without a word, just like her husband.

Nobody in Draco’s family knows about your relationship and so far, it has always been better that way. Even so, you do not come around wondering what if they did know about it right now. What if his mother knew about your undying love for each other? What if you would tell her right here, right now that you were the one who was always on her son’s side when he felt bad, that you cheered him up in his darkest times and supported him when no one else did. You were with him after he was declared a Death Eater and you were there when he decided against murdering your headmaster. You were there for him all this time when his family was not.

You can’t continue your thoughts when Bellatrix suddenly kicks you in the abdomen and you softly groan in pain, curling up on the floor.

“I will not ask you a second time: Where did you get the Gryffindor sword from?”, Bellatrix interrogates you again and harshly turns you on your back with her foot, using all her strength to prevent you from moving. Slowly she makes it hard for you to breathe and you desperately try to free yourself from her grip – without any success.

Since you still have not answered her question, she ends up pointing her wand at you threateningly again and before you even have the chance to admit anything, she puts an unforgivable curse on you.

“Crucio!”

Your body writhes in pain on the floor, screams escaping your mouth louder and stronger every second. You try to defy the curse, but you are too weak and can’t defend yourself, having to suffer the worst pain you have ever felt in your entire life.

And despite all of this, your thoughts go back to Draco. His smiling face appears in your mind and his gentle laughter echoes in your ears.

“D-Draco”, you gasp in pain and suddenly all of the pain disappears at once. Bellatrix has now lowered her wand and looks at you in confusion. But not only does she, but Draco’s parents as well.

“I did not ask about Draco!”, Bellatrix freaks out again in a matter of seconds and finally crawls over your weakened body, your faces so close to each other that you can feel her breath on your skin. “You have played enough games.”

At her words, you feel this unendurable pain again, but this time it feels different. It does not come from within you, you can still feel your body as a whole, and it feels a lot more realistic until you suddenly feel her rip open your arm with a sharp dagger inch by inch. Screeching in pain, you try to throw her off you, but she presses you onto the hard ground with all of her might and strength.

Exhausted, your head falls to one side, your body twitching at every painful touch on your arm. Tears flow down your already damp cheeks and you look at Draco’s mother through your blurry vision. She has averted her gaze from the terrible scenario.

“D-Draco.. I-“, you stutter out, the feeling of weightlessness from being on the verge of passing out obfuscating your words and thoughts. Still, you know that there is only one last chance that may get you out of here alive, even though you may regret it in the end.

“I love him”, you cry out in a heartbreaking voice which Bellatrix does not seem to mind at all. Narcissa, however, lifts her head in an instant and looks directly at you, her eyes full of sadness as far as you can tell by your restricted vision. Your eyelids are getting heavier by the second and just when you are about to pass out completely, you notice how Narcissa finally comes closer and thus puts an abrupt end to your unbearable pain.

“Legilmens”, her soft broken voice whispers and the world around you begins to spin, to transform.

And suddenly you are peacefully lying in a bed that is all too familiar to you, your gaze focused on the door that is opening at this very moment, revealing none other than Draco himself. You feel strange, weird, as if you have experienced all of this before. As soon as Draco enters the room with his head hanging low, you uncontrollably run into his arms. You speak to him with calming words until everything starts blurring in front of your eyes and you find yourself in a different place.

You are in a flooded bathroom, a slim and fragile figure trembling from crying from the bitter sobs at the sink in front of you.

“Draco”, you hear your own voice softly speak up and he jolts, turning around to you, his eyes red and swollen, his face completely dejected. Not another second goes by and you lie in his arms again, comforting him.

“I can’t do this anymore, Y/N. It hurts so much”, Draco’s echoing sobs ring in your ear as he rolls up the sleeve of his white shirt, revealing the Dark Mark. “Please help me.”

However, you are not able to help him because you are forcibly torn away from the moment again and land in a large, wide meadow of flowers. Warmth created by the burning sunlight flows through you and the exclamation of your name from the distance brings a happy smile to your face immediately. Not far from you Draco runs up the hill towards you, a smile as bright and wide as yours decorating his beautiful facial features. Quickly, you get up from the soft picnic blanket that you have placed in the meadow and greet him with a firm hug.

The next moment, you lie on the blanket, hugging and looking up at the clear starry sky after the sun has already set hours ago. Draco repeatedly points to different shining stars which form a constellation, telling you everything he learned in astronomy, while you can’t take your eyes off him.

When he finally notices your gaze, he turns his head towards you so that the tips of your nose are almost touching. Neither of you say a word and you just stare into each other’s eyes lovingly.

“I love you”, your voice carefully confesses and your heart hammers against your chest.

“I love you too”, Draco replies, connecting your lips in a gentle kiss.

The safe and happy feeling suddenly gets teared away from you and you find yourself back in the dark room of the Malfoy Manor. Shocked and not so sure about what has just happened, you straighten up. Only now do you realize that Bellatrix had let go of you in the meantime and is now looking down at you with widened eyes, standing closely behind her sister.

It hits you like a train when you realize that Narcissa has just used Legilimency on you, which caused you to be subjected to a rapid succession of passing memory scenes and in some cases even made you briefly lose consciousness. Thus, not only your expressed thoughts or perceptible feelings were revealed to her, but also your hidden feelings and experiences as well as your most secret desires.

An extremely uncomfortable silence arises in the room while all eyes are on you and only you. Lucius and Bellatrix seem rather angry at something, with Narcissa looking at you with pity and sadness.

“Take my hand”, Narcissa breaks the silence first, but because of her words you only look at her in confusion when she extends her hand to you. Looking back and forth between her outstretched hand and her face, for some inexplicable reason, you realize that she actually wants to help you.

As soon as your hands touch, everything around you blurs again and the next thing you know everything goes black. You feel pressure on your body from all directions and you find it difficult to breathe until everything around you takes on its usual color again, allowing you to breathe in deeply.

You feel the ground beneath your feet and notice that you are standing upright. And you notice that your and Narcissa’s hand are still connected. Startled, you pull your hand out of her grasp and look around.

“Where did you take me?!”, you angrily ask her, the place where you are now not seeming familiar to you and the fact that she just kidnapped you after invading your privacy makes you feel even more confused.

“To safety”, Narcissa replies shortly and it seems she wants to add something when her gaze suddenly slides past you, to something hat has now apparently appeared behind you.

“Mum?”

“Draco?”, you breathe out in relief when you hear his voice behind you and immediately turn around to him. Tears well up in your eyes and you run into Draco’s arms at lightning speed, but Draco seems to be quite perplexed. After all, he does not know what happened.

“W-What?”, he tries to form meaningful words while still not returning your hug, standing there rigid and tense.

“She knows about us”, you whisper in his ear while sobbing and his posture relaxes from one second to the other and he wraps his arms tightly around your trembling body without hesitation, his face disappearing in the crook of your neck.

“What happened?”, Draco asks you worried as he gently loosens the hug and takes your face between in his hands, not understanding why you are crying. With a shake of your head, you indicate that you do not want to talk about it and he understands, giving you the space you need, before his gaze falls back on his mother, who is watching you two silently.

“I am sorry”, Narcissa finally clears her throat, causing you to look at her as well. Tears have now also formed in her eyes, but her lips are adorned by a gentle smile as she looks at you. “It should never have come to this.”

“Why did you do that? Why did you help me?”, you want to know and step closer to her, your hand intertwined with Draco’s.

“I was inside of your head and saw all of your memories”, she explains and while she nervously plays with the long black sleeves of her beautiful dress, she looks up from the ground again. “I have seen how happy you make my son. I could not let them harm you or it would break him. You- You are too important to Draco.”

You are speechless at her words and Draco seems pretty stunned by what his mother said as well. Before either of you can comment on it though, she speaks up again.

“I will make sure that your friends get free”, she adds, letting her inner conflict reflect in her soft voice. “Stay with Draco. You are safe here until I have clarified everything. I will come back.”

“Mum-“

“I promise you that everything will be fine”, she gently smile at him, giving both of you a loving hug, before she disapparates into thin air and probably reappears where she has just saved your life moments ago.

[thatweeboverthereisthirsty]

Can I call you mine?

A commission from the lovely @carlottastudios who I absolutely adore after only having a few conversations with. These were jealousy scenarios with a bit of spice! I went over my word limit on Jamil’s but that’s just cause I love him so much! Please enjoy! And commissions are open still! This one cost $3

Warnings: slight spice, fem!reader, jealousy, protectiveness, possessive behavior, light light LIGHT angst, marking kink (is that a thing? oh well. Basically a love bite that displays their claim.)

   “In the jungle, the botanical jungle, a lion sleeps all the time~!” you sang out teasingly. Leona huffed and his tail thumped against the ground once in irritation. Giggling, you slid closer and poked said tail, which retracted swiftly, prickling in annoyance.

   “Scram herbivore.” Leona’s tone was mildly annoyed but had no bite to it. Truthfully he hoped you would inch just a bit closer so he could grab you and hold you hostage as his pillow. 

   You hummed and stood, much to his displeasure, and grabbed your school stuff. Quietly you packed everything away and threw out your lunch trash before returning to Leona’s spot one more time.

   “I have class now, Leona. I’ll see you later, kay?” he grunted in agreement and watched you walk away, nose twitching as he inhaled your fresh scent one last time before it began to fade. The down side of the botanical garden was that any smell other than flowers was quickly dispersed by the sickeningly sweet perfume of nectar.

   The lion sighed and stared up at one such flower with distaste. How dare they try to outdo his beloved? He would never appreciate their scent more than hers. He rolled his eyes at the ridiculous thoughts and fell back asleep. He hummed as he did so, mimicking the tune you had sang to him. He missed you already.

----------

   5:48 P.M. You were 18 minutes late. 18 minutes had passed since you were supposed to be in Leona’s bed, curled up next to him, petting his ears, and doting on him like the king he was. 18 minutes where Leona gradually became more worried, as well.

   It wasn’t like you to be late. Especially not late to a night with him. It set his instincts off and he was on high alert, tensed, ready to pounce on anything that dared touch his mate. Finally when the clock turned 5:20 he sprang out of bed and strode down the hall with power that sent the message “don’t mess with me”.

   In the Savanaclaw lounge you were seated next to the decorative pool, chatting amidly with a fellow student. Leona glared and growled when he spotted you, far too close to the other man for his liking. He watched in anger, as the student slid even closer to you so that your hips touched briefly.

   Rage flashed in Leona’s eyes and his expression darkened into something dangerous. He stalked over behind you and the student, who seemingly didn’t notice his presence and hastily picked you up before throwing you over his shoulder. 

   “Hey! Put me down!” you cried out and he snarled at you. “Quiet, herbivore!” Recognizing your boyfriend's voice you stilled and relaxed a bit. At least it wasn’t some stranger. 

   He mentally gave you points for fighting back when you didn’t know who it was. “That’s right, only I get to touch you.”

   Looking down at the student who had been sitting with you, he noticed your homework was on his lap and realized he had just been helping you. He growled and turned walking away, a bit upset that he didn’t have a good reason to turn them to dust. Not that he needed one, but he couldn’t imagine upsetting you by harming one of your classmates, no matter how much he wanted to.

   Soon he reached his room and threw you on the bed. You landed with a gasp and looked up at him in confusion and slight annoyance. “Leona! What was that-MPH!”

   He silenced you quickly by shoving you down on the bed and sliding his tongue into your mouth. Immediately your body relaxed underneath him and he smirked when you brought your hands up to weave into his hair. 

   Only he got to touch you like this. Only he got to kiss you. Only he got to say that you were his. His and his alone! 

   You panted when he pulled back and started to ask why but he kissed you again so you couldn’t. “Jealous. Protective. Possessive. Mine” He said between kisses and soon trailed them along your jaw and down to your neck.

   A breathy moan slipped from your lips as he sucked on the sensitive skin near your collar. He kissed up until he was right over the junction between your neck and shoulders. Then he bit down hard, drawing a loud cry from you. 

   The taste of your blood only just barely appeared before he pulled back and began to kiss the wound. He knew that licking it would irritate it further due to his cat-like tongue, but he still attempted to soothe it as much as possible.

   Finally he pulled back completely and gazed down at you with a smirk. Several different bruises and love bites littered your neck, shoulders, and collar. Only one had been deep enough to break the skin. It would scar he was sure and the thought of you always wearing a symbol of his claim made him purr.

   He stopped though when he realized he could have hurt you. “I’m sorry. Princess, I didn’t mean to get so upset, it’s just instincts.” he sighed. 

   You smiled at him and pulled him down for another kiss. “Don’t worry. I find it super sexy when you get possessive.” His eyes widened in surprise and he took in your mild blush. “Hmmm…” he purred with a smirk. “Well in that case you don’t mind if I mark you up a bit more… and while I’m at it you can use that pretty voice of yours to remind the whole dorm that you’re mine and mine alone!”

   Jamil gritted his teeth and turned away from the lounge. He made his way to the kitchen and immediately began to prepare more horderves. Kalim’s party was going wonderfully, of course all due to his hard work. Although he supposed he appreciated a week's notice and Kalim did help magically with some of the decorations.

    He was still stressed, but not quite as much as he could have been, had Kalim not given him a warning. In fact he was looking forward to actually trying to enjoy one of Kalim’s parties for the first time since he was born. 

   It was a very nice party and since everything was going smoothly, Jamil found time to sit down and sip some juice. Alcohol wasn’t allowed on school premises but grape juice mimicked the taste nicely depending on what brand you bought. Kalim was partial to the sweeter stuff, while Jamil preferred it to be more sour.

   However, he found that the sour taste in his mouth wasn’t from the juice at all when he spotted you dancing joyously with some other student. His smile fell into a frown and he watched angrily as the student pulled you close and said something that made you laugh.

   You had a beautiful laugh, it was the kind that made everyone in the room sigh in content when they heard it. Jamil fell in love with it almost as hard as he had fallen in love with you. Especially because you rarely laughed for anyone but him.

   To hear you generously sharing that sound with some nobody sent flashes of anger through him.  He clenched his fists and dug his nails into his palms a bit. Just remembering it made him pissed.

   Shaking his head to clear it, Jamil got to work cutting up some more vegetables at a fast speed that would intimidate anyone who tried to approach him. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone so he glared darkly at the food in front of him in an attempt to send off silent go away signals.

   Kalim, who entered the room to find Jamil after seeing him storm off, caught sight of the frustrated man and paused to observe his body language. Ever since Jamil’s overblot, Kalim had been trying to read his friend's emotions better. Luckily he caught on quickly and left the room.

    Jamil sighed in relief and set the knife down. Why the hell would you wanna hang out with anyone but him! You were his and his alone! The only thing he had claim over, or ownership of. Mentally he berated himself for thinking that way. You weren’t an object, you were a person and you should be allowed to do whatever you want. He would be a hypocrite if he tried to restrict your choices and behaviors.

   “Jamil?” The man spun around and found you standing behind him with a concerned look on your face. “Kalim told me you looked upset, is everything alright?” Your tone was soft and worried. It eased Jamil’s emotions in the way it always had. You always put him first, a habit he both loved and hated. On one hand he adored being pampered for once, on the other he knew what it was like to ignore your own wants and needs for another person.

   He sighed and put on a smile, taking your hands in his own. “Just tired that’s all.” you frowned and glared up at him in the way you always did when he lied.

   “Now, I know that’s not true. I’m not gonna force you to tell me, but I also want you to know that you can be honest with me. That’s why I’m here.” Jamil bit his lip and turned away, a flush rising on his cheeks.

   “The truth…” he hesitated. “The truth is I don’t want you hanging out with that other student!” The sudden exclamation took you aback and you blinked in surprise. “I don’t want to control you or tell you what to do and who to hang out with, but I also want you all to myself. No one else should be able to touch you or whisper in your ears, or dance with you, or make you laugh and smile. That’s my job, because your mine, not theirs!”

   At this point you were blushing as well, but noticed he was beginning to get upset. “And I’m so sorry for saying that like you’re some object, cause you’re not. You’re a person who deserved to make their own choices and decisions, but goddamnit I can’t help wanting you all to myself. You’re- you’re…” he paused and looked at you. “You’re special… to me. I don’t want anyone taking you away from me. I know i’m being a hypocrite but don’t go back out there. Stay here and be mine-”

   Jamil was cut off by you kissing him passionately on the lips. His eyes widened before they fell closed and he snaked his arms around your waist, tugging you flush against him with a growl. 

   His tongue swiped at your lips and you parted them obediently. He smirked and chuckled lowly before slipping it into your mouth. “Good girl.” You moaned through the kiss and felt your knees weaken. He pulled you around and lifted you effortlessly onto the counter. His kisses moved from your lips to your neck where he simultaneously worshipped and abused your skin.

   Love bites and dark bruises displayed his rough treatment, but the sighs that fell from your lips told him that you were enjoying it greatly. Silently he pulled back to observe his handiwork and smirked at the amount of marks he had left behind. Some would be easy to hide, whereas others he had left strategically in places that would be impossible to cover up. He felt a little guilty, knowing that you would be slightly upset later for making it so hard to hide the fact that he had been kissing you, but seeing something almost like a name tag, or a brand, that signified you were his and his alone, stirred something in him and he was tempted to never let you leave his sight without a mark warning people off about advancing on you.

   “Jamil…” you spoke shakily. He looked at you and how wrecked you were just from some kisses and his gaze darkened with lust. His tongue licked his lips subconsciously and he watched you shiver in reaction. “I have something important to tell you…”

   He raised an eyebrow and moved his head to the other side of your neck, placing kisses and marks there as well. It made it very hard to think so you momentarily pushed him away, making him growl in displeasure. “Don’t feel bad about being possessive over me, okay? Because when you are…” you hesitated, “it’s really freaking hot.”

   His eyes widened and an almost evil smile drew up on his lips. “That so… well, then I guess you don’t mind me leaving a few more marks over here,” he licked a stripe up your neck drawing a gasp from you, “to show the whole world that you belong to me!” He snarled it out before biting lightly at your skin and relishing in the way you tilted your head to the side with a moan. Yeah, he could get used to you hanging out with other boys so long as he got to do this to you before and after.

[kakashiswilloffire]

Hello Ari! Hope you're doing well!

I was reading Cold Brew for the umpteenth time today *cue lovesick giggles* and it made me so happy that it led me to think if you'd be open to doing a part 2 :)

I know that some stories are probably left best as it is, so if a the idea of a sequel doesn't appeal to you, would you like to write a fluffy scenario where this time, it's Kakashi coming to the reader's place of work and both of them are just in denial of their feelings?

I know it seems like a very vague ask haha, but I do hope you're able to make something out of it!

Thanks a lot, and have a wonderful day/night!

hi po!!! thank you so much, and i hope you enjoy this!!

cupcake of the week

ao3

wc: 1583

no tw! bakery au, college au

***

“Hatake, I’m not saying it again—let’s go.”

The silver-haired man felt his stomach remain on the couch as he was dragged to his feet. “We really don’t have to do this, it’s not a big deal, they probably don’t even know who I am—”

The chorus of “bullshit” that rang around the apartment living room indicated otherwise. Asuma lay across the whole dingy, torn couch, preventing anyone else from taking a seat. Yamato, at the desk in the corner, had split away from drafting his architecture midterm long enough to chime in. Then there was Genma, hand wrapped firmly around the sophomore’s wrist, forcing him to stand.

“You have gone to this stupid shop every Tuesday for the past six weeks. You get an assortment pack of pastries and whatever the cupcake of the week is every time. Last time, Bakery Babe wrote ‘Enjoy!’ with a little smiley face and an exclamation mark on the box,” Genma recounted, reaching for Kakashi’s jacket and throwing it at him before grabbing at his own. “I’d say they definitely know who you are.”

Asuma shuffled, digging in his back pocket. “And the pastries aren’t even good.”

Genma snapped his fingers, pointing at his roommate. “Exactly! They burn the cinnamon rolls half the time!”

“Okay, fair, but the weekly cupcake is always good,” Kakashi protested, bending to scoop his wallet off the low coffee table.

Asuma thumped the back of his head with a pack of cigarettes as he egged him on. “Go get ‘em, hotshot.”

***

It was a lovely day outside, and you had been at work since before the sun had risen. Despite the sun pouring in through the glass doors, the winter chill had still set in and claimed its hold on the air around you, leaving you to fight a shiver and a rash of goosebumps every time the door opened to welcome in a customer.

In a few months, it would be two years at this bakery, and another year’s savings set aside to open your own. The only thing that could be sweeter is if Tuesday Assortment Guy would finally take a hint, or at least give you his name.

He was so kind and intelligent, his mask always pulled diligently over his nose. He never complained about the high prices or wait times, never was upset if what he was looking for was out of stock. A few weeks ago, had had come in with his puppy on a leash, and the tiny vest he had gotten custom-made for the pug had melted your heart. You slipped him a cup of whipped cream that day and had made a point every week after to ring in a discount, or pack an extra baked good or two into his package.

Over each visit, he had spoken about college, his career goals, his hobbies, and his roommates. Four weeks in, and no red flags to be seen. You were cautiously optimistic.

You felt the chill wash over you as the door swung open for the five hundredth time that day as you wiped down the sales counter. “Welcome in, let me know if you need anything,” you recited cheerfully before looking up.

Tuesday Assortment Guy, right on time.

His shoulders slumped more than usual, and he checked over his shoulder at the man in the hoodie standing just outside, who flashed him a thumbs up followed by a shooing motion. Assortment Guy refused to move, and his friend pulled the toothpick from his mouth and pointed it threateningly through the glass.

You cleared your throat, hoping to prevent whatever violence could possibly take place. “Ah! It’s cold out there, huh?”

What the hell? Of course it’s cold. Everyone knows it’s cold. Why would you--?

He nodded viciously, taking a fumbling step toward the counter without making eye contact. “Yeah! Like, super chilly. So weird.”

Crisis averted.

You laughed, then leaned forward across the counter. “So, are we doing the usual today?”

Once again, he glanced back at the door, then let his hand find a place to rest on the back of his neck. “Yeah, just the assorted twelve-pack. Um, whatever you think would be good. And then, you know, the, uh—” He struggled for a moment, searching for the words.

“The cupcake of the week?”

“Yes, that.” A faint blush crept toward his temples. “Thank you.”

“No worries!” You unfolded and built the thin white cardboard box, scanning over the display in front of you. He had never stated a preference for what he liked, so you tried to give him as wide a variety as you could.

As you selected the best from each category, you caught up. His dog was doing well, and he was thinking about getting a second. His best friend’s birthday was coming up, and he had no idea what to get a man who only owned exercise equipment and protein powder. You suggested a journal for tracking goals, and he cocked his head to the side, took a beat, and thanked you for solving the problem.

In no time, you had packed the box and was tabbing it closed, placing it next to the register. You then went behind yourself for the single-serving box, reaching for a sheet of deli paper.

He took another step toward the counter, now just a tiny bit closer than a customer needed to be. “So, how do you… choose the cupcake? Like, what’s the process?”

“For cupcake of the week?” He nodded, and you shrugged as you picked up one of this week’s winner, a coconut cream inspired creation with a meringue buttercream frosting. “We just kind of throw out ideas, and then I pull something together. Like a couple weeks ago, the strawberry basil? That was the first two things my boss saw at the farmer’s market. It’s good practice for when I’ll make my own menu someday.”

Assortment Guy nodded, clearly impressed. “That’s so interesting! Like, you’ll just experiment with flavors until something works?”

“Yeah! That’s why they don’t end up part of the permanent menu very often—it’s just something for me to play with.”

You set the box with the cupcake down next to the larger box, and his hand ghosted over yours as he slid it towards himself.

“I, uh… I think that’s really great.”

You swallowed, suddenly aware of every nerve ending in your body and the ambient sounds in the room. “Thanks. I, um, I work really hard on them.”

A heavy silence settled as you rang in his order, adding your employee discount at the end. You gave him his total and he fumbled with his wallet, pulling out his card and passing it off to you. You swiped it through the till’s scanner, waiting for the annoying tone that let you know it was approved.

“Did you need a bag?”

He blinked. Before he could reply, you continued your train of thought.

“I’m going to get you a bag.”

You ducked under the counter, pulling a marker from your apron pocket and snagging a sheet of wax paper. Quickly, you scrawled down your name and phone number, then folded the sheet up roughly and shoving it to the bottle of the plastic bag you stood up with. Hands shaking with adrenaline, you lowered the two boxes on top of the note, then handed the sack off to the man on the other side of the counter.

“Have a great day,” you managed to get out before the internal panic took over. He nodded, said something back to you, then raised the bag in a farewell before heading to the door.

He got a single step outside, the door just barely closed behind him, before the friend who had been waiting smacked him upside the head and yanked the bag away from him. You could hear some vague shouting, then he re-entered, alone.

“Could I, um, ask you a question? If you have a minute?” He tripped over the words, and you froze, heart racing. Had you misread the situation? Did he have a partner he hadn’t mentioned? Was Toothpick Boy his partner?

You took a deep breath, trying desperately to stay casual. “Yeah, what’s up?”

He appeared equally as nervous as he tentatively approached the register. “Would you, maybe, outside of work, be interested in, um, maybe going on a date? With me?”

The world shut down for a moment, but when it came back online, he was still standing in front of you, waiting for an answer.

“I—yeah! That’d be great!” Despite yourself, you giggled, and he visibly relaxed into himself before springing back up.

“Great! So it’s a date!”

“Yeah! It’s a date!”

“Awesome!” His hand found its way behind his neck again, and you both sat in the silence that followed for a moment. He then cleared his throat and threw a look to the glass door, pointing to his friend who had already broken into the box of treats.

“I’ll call you later?” He asked, backing out of the store.

You grinned, nodding firmly. “Sounds perfect!”

***

“Did you do it? I’ve been working on a pickup line around ‘cupcake of the week’, but I don’t have one yet that isn’t creepy or like, implying you only want to be together short-term, but I’ll get there.”

Kakashi shoved him, scoffing as he took the bag back. “Don’t need your help, Genma. I could clearly handle it all on my own.”

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Waking Comfort (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence (in a flashback), implied/referenced trauma (unspecified) Warnings: N/A Summary: Unable to sleep on a cold day, Bela Dimitrescu tries to find comfort in her favorite servant... only to end up being the one doing the comforting. Notes: This is super self indulgent, because my dreams have been murdering me recently. Reader is a selective mute/partially nonverbal, implied neurodivergent (unspecified), gender neutral but written with a non-binary person in mind, with non-specific past trauma. Basically this is somewhat of a self-insert fic but I've smudged some lines to make it more relatable for other people.

----------------

In the early hours of the day, when the sun had yet to reach its peak, a cold quiet fell over Castle Dimitrescu. Most inhabitants were of a nocturnal persuasion, and lay sleeping soundly at this hour. Those few that thrived in the sun moved softly, with caution, daring not to awaken their masters. Oh, if only they knew that one Lady of the house was awake, prowling the corridors with marked intent. What a chill it would send down their spines- what lovely fear would permeate the household.

Ah, but that was not what Bela Dimitrescu desired, at least not for now. No, what she needed was something she would never admit out loud. It was a “base” need, one that all humans felt, and so she feared that it was beneath her. There was only one person that she could trust for this: A servant, experienced in all matters needed of them, level-headed, compassionate… and, most importantly, selectively mute.

Over the past year, Bela had found herself growing closer to you, much to her own surprise. The two of you had started to bond through reading, after you had helped her reorganize a mess in the library (left by none other than Lady Daniela). Since then, you had proven to be a valuable ally, always finding creative solutions to the family’s problems. From jury-rigging a set of climbing gear for repairs, to proof-reading all formal letters, there was hardly any part of Bela’s life that you hadn’t assisted with. All while only ever saying two or three sentences- short ones, at that.

Neither of you would ever forget the first (and only) time you spoke out loud. A would-be hunter had infiltrated the estate, through a damaged skylight (which you later repaired), intending to prove his worth by killing the nobility inside. By the time Bela arrived, after being notified by a terrified maiden, she found the situation had already been aptly handled. There you had stood, clutching an ornate, bloodied cane like a club. In front of you had been the unconscious hunter.

“You could have been hurt!” Bela had snapped, unable to stop herself, glad that her sisters hadn’t arrived yet. Then you had glanced at the man, then her, then back to the man. Something uncharacteristically dark had danced in your eyes.

“He said he was going to save me… from you. Called me defenseless,” you had snarled, poking the man with your cane as you did. “Rude.” Before Bela even had a chance to react, her sisters had appeared, disappointed to find the fight already over. They had fought over who would get to kill the hunter, and somewhere in that chaos you had slipped away without another word.

That day had replayed itself in Bela’s mind hundreds of times in her mind. Though she would not readily admit it, that had been the day that her casual affection for you had started to turn into something more serious. These days she didn’t even know how to describe your relationship- after all, you had never told her how you felt. But you had held her, closely, fingers running through her hair while she fought off memories from someone else’s life. Held her in your arms, as she held you, staving off the cold like it was all you had ever known.

This was what she wanted. Your touch, your comfort. All that stood in her way was a familiar question: Where were you? Master of your environment, schedule constantly in flux, you were rarely where anyone expected you to be, especially when you were prone to taking on whatever tasks others hadn’t had time to finish. So Bela searches, quickly, around places the day-shift tends to gather. She’s careful not to be seen, even though she knows the maidens aren’t likely to gossip where her family might hear. In the end she catches a hint of your scent near the servants’ quarters, and curses herself for not checking there sooner.

Your room is one of the only single-occupancy rooms in this wing. Only senior staff were allowed within these places, most of them rotating out as they “lost their usefulness”. The fact that you had slept in the same bed every night for six months was a testament to your skill. It’s the kind of thought that brings Bela some semblance of warmth in her chest. Still, the thought alone is not enough, so she slowly eases your door open.

Her ears strain against the silence, listening for the pattern of your breathing, or the telltale murmurs that would announce your awakening. Instead, the first things she hears are little gasps, then the shifting of fabric. Dreams of some sort have you turning and tossing, lungs getting hungry in their pursuit of air. It’s not immediately clear whether or not you are enjoying the dream. Were these good gasps, like those that Daniela often cooed about when she praised her maiden? Or were these the same kind that sometimes haunted Bela herself?...

A whimper cuts through the air, and suddenly Bela loses all patience. Practically running, she crosses the room in an instant, concern etched into her brow. One hand cautiously reaches for your blanket, pulling it back enough for her to slide in next to you. It’s a risk, one that could make you wake up with a panic, but it’s one she’s willing to take. After all, she had asked you about this sort of thing before. Though you couldn’t form full sentences, you had experience “miming” things, and Bela was quite clever with her “yes or no” questions.

When she carefully wraps an arm around your waist, she does so with confidence. Beneath her touch you stiffen, back going as tense as possible, but you stop shaking. A few more gasps leave you, and Bela wonders whether or not she should wake you up. Less than a minute later the decision is made for her. All the sudden your gasping turns to a sharp exclamation, body jerking hard, eyes snapping open. Tension coils through your muscles, driving your already overstimulated brain overboard.

Before Bela can even try to comfort you, you sit up, quickly turning so your legs dangle off the edge of the bed. Muffled sobs pass your lips as you hold your face in your hands. Memories struggle against each other behind your eyes, blocking out every other sensation. Your jaw is clenched, hard, and you struggle to breathe between shakes. A hand touches your back, but quickly moves when you flinch in response. It takes a minute for you to even process who else is with you. Once you do, some of the tension bleeds from your body.

“If you’d rather be alone right now, I understand,” Bela says, quietly, as soon as she thinks you’ll be able to understand her. For a moment you can’t bring yourself to respond, and you can feel her side of the mattress shifting, like she’s getting ready to leave. Panic springs up in your chest again, so you quickly reach a hand out in her direction. Thankfully she knows what to expect at this point, easily finding your hand in the dark, gently taking it within her own. “One squeeze for yes, two for no?”

You squeeze, once.

“Do you want me to hold you?” Bela asks, trying to hide the hopefulness in her voice. It makes you pause, considering, even though you’re still overwhelmed by your sensory inputs. In the end you squeeze her hand twice. “No worries, my dear. Don’t be tempted to push yourself just for my sake.” Somehow she always knew how to read you like an open book. Even with the… difficulty of communicating with you. Not that she had ever complained, or even thought about it. Knowing you, and caring for you, made any effort feel as easy as breathing.

A few minutes pass without another word being said. Sometimes Bela gives your hand a little squeeze, just to check in, and you always return it. Soon enough your brain starts to relax, loosening its vice-like grip on your motor controls. Once again you can ease the tension in your muscles. Then you find yourself rubbing your thumb against Bela’s hand, moving in soft circular motions, head turning so you can smile at her. Even if it’s too dark for you to see much, you know that her eyes see you just fine.

“Feeling any better?” She asks, donning a smile of her own. One squeeze. “Is there anything more I can do to help?” A pause, then one squeeze. Now that your limbs don’t feel as staticky, there’s only one thing on your mind: Cuddling. You’re moving before you know it, briefly letting go of Bela’s hand so you can get closer to her, pressing your face into her neck and giving her a soft kiss. Then you’re falling against the bed, on your side, looking up at your partner with a grin. It doesn’t take her long to get the message, shifting back onto her side so she can hold you for real this time. One of your hands goes to rest on her back, to serve as your translator for the rest of the night. “I love you,” Bela says, without even thinking.

She freezes up afterwards, realizing that this is the first time she’s ever said the words out loud to you. For a moment she’s scared, a feeling alien to her, but she refuses to back down. It pays off a few seconds later, incredibly so, when you return the words the best way you can: One squeeze.

[mysticprofessoralienhumanoid]

A Daminette Penpal AU - Continuation

Continuation  of this post

@ab-unreachablevoice @startouchedqueen1318 @lovemidnighteclipse12 you asked, I deliver.

Now, I want all of you to know this AU was made in a spur of moment. I’m totally winging it rn.

So obviously before the akuma class goes to Gotham, the months of texting have to have passed.

For Damian, those months are hell, because not only does he have to hear Jon’s gushing about his awesome penpal, but he has to endure Lila’s lies and her stories that keep only getting more ridiculous as the time passes too.

And it better be fucking worth it, because you have no idea how close he’s to flying to Paris and finally putting his assassin’s skills into use.

I mean, look at this!

Lila: HI Damian!!!! ❤💖💕💋💞

Damian, cringing at his phone: Yes?

Lila: How r u????

Damian, who absolutely hates when someone types like that: Have been better

Lila: Would u like to maybe video chat???? I could tell u about my trip to Achu !!!!!

Damian, a little shit™: Did “u” know that using more than three (3) exclamation (!) and question (?) marks means “u” may have a personality disorder? Maybe that’d explain the amount of lies “u” like to spew so much.

(Oof-)

[Message read. This user is offline.]

I’m convinced that if Damian knew how to use gifs, he would 100% use a lot, and I mean a lot, of cat gifs (honestly, animal gifs in general).

Lila: Hi Dami!!!! (She doesn’t learn, okay.)

Damian: I hope you can understand the message.

She can.

Lila: Hi dami. Can I call u Dami???

Damian: No.

Lila: I had so much fun this weekend Dami!!!! I went to Brazil Turns out Chris Pratt is filming a new movie there. Anyway, he recognized me and we started  talking. His so much fun!!!!!! 🥰🤩😍😍🎉🎉

Damian: Fascinating. Please do not  tell  me more.

Damian: And it’s “he’s”, not “his”.

Heh.

Lila: Hiii Damiii

Damian: I literally hate you so much-

[Message not sent]

Lila: Dami????

Lila: ....

Lila: Um, Damian? U there????

[Message not read]

You have no idea how, much fun making these is-

Oh, and imagine, just imagine, if Lila told him about situation in Paris.

Lila: Sorry for texting you so late, damiboo. Got caught up in an akuma attack.

Damian, who by now is replying just to humor her (plus his father forced him): A what?

And then Lila starts explaining the situation in Paris. Of course, she adds a few stories about how she was akumas’ target or how she helped Chat Noir (weirdly she doesn’t talk much about Ladybug). It’s that one of really rare times she’s not lying (well, not that much). And how Damian reacts to it?

Damian, Done with Lies™: Do you ever stop lying? Because this, all of this, is absolutely and utterly ridiculous.

Cue Lila wishing she didn’t bullshit as much as she did Damian was just a little more gullible

Anyway.

I don’t know if you remember, but in the first part I said Damian ditched Lila for Marinette (but let’s be honest, wouldn’t we all?).

To clear things up, I kinda wanted the GA students to accompany their penpals throughout their time at school. It’d be nice, right?

So the scene is:

The principal has just announced that GA students have to keep company their penpals while they’re at the GA establishment. Lila’s feeling victorious, this is her chance to get her claws in Damian and his money- I mean, to get to know her lovely penpal. Yeah...

Lila, walking up to Damian, while trying to appear sexy and shy at the same time, and failing at both: So, shall we?

Damian, ostentatiously glancing at her before going to Marinette: Bye

Now, to spice things up, I decided imma get them caught up in a rouge attack/attacked by a rouge.

So somewhere a week in their stay, akuma class is held hostage by one of the Gotham’s criminals.

Because this is Gotham, y’all. You can’t be in Gotham and NOT get attacked some way or another. It’s impossible.

[Choose your villain. I have badass Marinette though, so we all know the winner here]

The moment it starts, Damian slips away and changes into Robin.

Meanwhile:

The class is screaming and panicking.

Lila is probably in the middle of a panic attack.

Marinette’s assessing the situation before striking.

The moment Robin arrives, he gets to witness Marinette, the sweet cinnamon roll Marinette, kicking ass and taking names. Adorable. He thinks he’s in love (and he so is).

Bats come. And they’re met with the dude dealt with and trembling in fear of a petite girl with pigtails, who’s standing next to him and a lovestruck Robin staring at said girl.

A sight to behold, truly.

Also, what if Damian accidentally texts Lila instead of Marinette after the attack? And Lila is so happy, because she thinks her plan’s finally working. But ohoho, does Damian have surprise for her.

Damian: Are you sure you’re okay? The attack was really dangerous, You’re sure you’re fine?

Lila, thinking ‘yes, fucking finally. Almost thought you have no feelings’ : Oh, it was so scary !!!!!! 😱😰😨😨😨 [just hella lot of emojis. She seems like that kind to me] I was absolutely terrified!!!! I’m just glad that it’s all over. After the attack Robin came up to check up on me. He even flirted with me, i think he likes me... Too bad I already like someone else 😘😘😘😘😘😘

Lila: But don’t worry, dami!!!! I’m a little shaken up, but overall okay.  But if you want to we can facetime so you can make sure I’m not injured ;*

Damian, having to physically restrain himself fro throwing his phone against the wall: ...

Damian: Fuck.

Damian: Wrong number.

Lila: ಠ_ಠ

---------

And of course I’m involving Twitter. Who do you think I am?

At first it was one of of his siblings who posted a post about how he’s seething at his phone, probably his penpal texted him something again.

But do you seriously thing Damian would pass such an amazing opportunity?

Haha.

No.

He immediately posts his follow up and it goes downhill from here. He adds shit ton of tweets about her, making Lila famous (and she doesn’t even know she is).

People don’t know whom to pity more; Damian, for having a horrible and lying penpal, or said penpal, for having an enemy in the Ice Prince of Gotham?

The hashtags #IcePrince’sPenpal #PenpalNightmare #MenaceOfAPenpal are created and are trending every day.

Many say it’s the most active he’s ever been.

---------

Lila is not stupid in this, okay? A pathological liar and a manipulator, yes, but for that you need brain and she has one. Much to Damian’s surprise. And yeah, sometimes she lets her imagination get the best of her, but she’s cautious enough and has proof to often back her up. 

She knows she screwed up. Her penpal doesn’t believe her and isn’t scared to call her out.

Due to him bluntly uncovering her lies, some of the classmates see through the blinds she’d put on their eyes and get suspicious of her.

If you have mercy on them, make them come to Marinette and apologize.

...

Yeah, I’m not doing that.

The class sticks to Lila’s version of every story and they don’t believe Damian is THE Damian Wayne, even when a fricking limousine drives up to the school and a butler comes out of it.

---------

Random notes and ideas that don’t really have any sense or anything tbh, but I had them so there you go

About the attack, obviously the school has to inform the parents, right? But, if you're salty enough, you can, oh i don't know, make bustier and/or Damocles not inform them thus creating even more problems for them in the near future. (Yes, i hate bustier and damocles with passion, they’re enablers and Damocles is a gold digger tbh)

*

One day the french class is at a random restaurant (I’m honestly tempted to put them in Red Robin just for my own entertainment) when the Wayne brothers come in. They recognize them and Lila sees the opportunity, so she goes up to them.

Lila: Hiii Damiii!!!! [Yes, I know this is a real life conversation]

Damian, just done with her: Ugh, not you again.

Tim just kinda glances at her and decides she’s not worth his time.

Jason: What the fuck do you have on your head?

Dick: Oh, Damian, is this your crush or the penpal you despise so much?

Damian: The latter. And i do not have a crush

Lila, who totally stopped listening after she heard “crush”: That’s me!!!!

[Silence]

Damian: Marinette’s over there. Let’s go.

Lila:  ;_;

Yeah, it sucks to be Lila.

[I thought I posted this a month ago. I didn’t. What the hell]

[savethelastdan]

loving leads to bleeding (and your beauty is a blessing)

SessKagu off-shoot of this one except Akinori lives :) 

originally written for @sweepingtree 

When fourteen-year-old Akinori returns from the fortune teller’s home, he is ashen and quiet. 

This is not like his son, so Sesshomaru waits until the sky is dark and everyone else has retired, before going to the witch’s home himself. 

He hears of a future where he once again wanders alone; where hope sleeps away the years under a blanket of ice and snow; and Kagura screams curses at his back as she folds herself over their child’s corpse. 

Beneath his choking grip, the fortune-teller croaks a curse, if he is to intervene in fate’s design once again. “Your wife, your human daughter - when will it be enough? You must learn to accept grief, instead of forcing it’s hand.”  

But of all things, this is not one that Sesshomaru will accept. 

The Panther King dies the next morning, and Akinori turns fifteen.

-

Seed

“Mama, when will I have a spider mark like yours?” 

Kagura stills. From the hot spring’s shallow end, Akinori’s bright eyes watch her lips curve down. 

His mother is pretty, and thus so is her frown; but he feels guilty all the same. After all, the rare times she frowns are usually because of Papa, not because of him. 

“You won’t.” Dipping her hands in the water, Kagura scrubs at her neck as she answers. “The man who put this mark on Mama is gone now.” 

“Gone?”

“Dead.” When she says it, her lip curls, and since it’s halfway to a smile Akinori feels a bit better. 

He’s five years old, so he knows what death is, of course. Death is the time his big sister burst into tears because a bird flew into the side of the door during a storm; the thing that means he has only a sword waiting for him to grow up, no grandfather to go with it; the girl named Kanna his mother talks about when he sits on her lap by the looking-glass.

Death is sad, most of the time. But from the way his mother smiles as she wades over to wash his hair, maybe it isn’t always. 

-

Bud

“You’re sulking.” It is a statement, not a scolding. And yet, Akinori shrinks when he hears his father’s voice come up behind him. 

Pouting, he pokes his head around the trunk of the tree. Sesshomaru stands there, arms loose at his sides, and waits. 

“It’s not fair.” He points one claw towards the bottom of the hill, where his favorite cousin is still playing with the annoying boy from the demon slayer tribe. “She’s younger than me, how come she’s taller?” 

Sesshomaru scoffs in the back of his throat. “What a thing to fuss about.” 

Akinori is only eight years old, but he burns with what someday will be dubbed a righteous adolescent rage at his father’s refusal to take this seriously. “Papaaaaaa. I’m the strongest one, I should be the leader. But Minako said it had to be the tallest - “

“She’s taller because you have more demon blood. It will take longer for you to grow up.” Sesshomaru’s gold eyes glance over his son; Akinori doesn’t notice, but his wife or even his sister in law could hear the admittance beneath his words that this is not something he dislikes. When Akinori only pouts further, he moves to let a hand rest on his son’s head. “Let her be the leader for now.”

“But - “ 

“Akinori.” Sesshomaru’s thumb grazes the half-moon on the boy’s forehead; the mark of their family. “Let her.” 

The unfairness of it all puts the exclamation out of his chest, as he shoves his father’s hand away. “Ugh, why?” 

Sesshomaru sighs; his hands return to his sides. “Because you will outlive her.” 

Later, Kagura will scold him for saying it like that (as though she is anything other than blunt, herself). Because Akinori is eight, and hearing his father speak so calmly of his family passing away is scary. Scary enough that, when it is time to leave, he wraps his arms around Minako’s neck and shrieks. 

I’ll save you like Papa saved Big Sister Rin! 

Four parents discuss it in hushed (and extremely frustrated) tones that night; Akinori never finds out exactly what they say. 

So death, he thinks, half-asleep on Jaken’s shoulder as he’s carried out of his aunt and uncle’s hut, isn’t only something that happens to people he’s never met. 

It’s something to be feared. 

-

Bloom 

Pulling the blanket over his shoulder, Kagura sits on the side of her son’s bed. Though she’s watched Akinori sleep his whole life, since becoming a teenager he’s found it creepy. Whenever he complains, she just laughs and admits that she can’t help it. 

“It’s like my heart is outside of my chest again, only this time it’s wandering the world and getting into trouble,”  she says to Sesshomaru once. At the time, he hadn’t said a word. But the slight dip in his chin made it clear he’d understood. 

Now, her husband stands in the door, head held high. Some might think it means he’s proud; but Kagura’s spent too many years by his side to be fooled. 

“She said that he was fated to die.” 

Air rips away from her lungs, ready to fasten itself into a sharp weapon; Kagura forces it back, not willing to wake her child. “When?”

“His birthday.” Sesshomaru unfolds the mokomoko from his shoulders as he speaks. When it drops to the floor, out of the corner of her eye Kagura marks spots of blood staining the white. “It has been prevented.”

She thinks of Kohaku, showing off his latest successful hunt to a line of nieces and nephews; Rin, smiling and laughing within a huge crowd of villagers; her own reflection, growing older in the mirror. “Good. I wouldn’t let you come back here otherwise.” 

The statement is an unspoken allowance for him to come closer, and he does. Their sleeves brush as Sesshomaru settles beside her. “The witch spoke of consequences.” 

She says it without thinking. “Whatever they are, they’re worth it.”

For a moment, they are silent; both entirely focused on the sleeping boy. Kagura regains focus first, turning to look her husband full in the face. A speck of blood marks his brow, and she brushes it away with her finger. 

“It’s quite a lot of trouble, loving something this much.” She tries to keep her tone light; it doesn’t quite work, with the weariness in Sesshomaru’s eyes. Kagura lets one hand rest on his shoulder, and the other on the slight swell hidden beneath her robes. “Do you think your heart can handle another?” 

-

Akinori turns fifteen. He is gifted the sword that fights death, and a fan that makes corpses dance. His confidence in wielding each makes his sister shake her head in disbelief, and his mother show all her teeth in a smile. 

His father’s servant, Jaken, drinks too much and tells him the story of his birth. How he, the spawn of a wind demon, had no air in his lungs. How it was only the sword now hanging at his hip that saved him. 

“And now he’s gone and messed with things again! Oh, please try not to worry Lord Sesshomaru anymore, Akinori,” Jaken wails, wobbling back and forth as his eyes roll back. “I don’t think any of us could survive it if you do.” 

Akinori goes to his father, that night, and cries in his chest like a child. Because whether it scares him or saddens him, love is a bigger part of his story than death will ever be.

ALTERNATE (DARK) ENDING:

“It’s quite a lot of trouble, loving something this much.” She tries to keep her tone light; it doesn’t quite work, with the weariness in Sesshomaru’s eyes. Kagura lets one hand rest on his shoulder, and the other on the slight swell hidden beneath her robes. “Do you think your heart can handle another?” 

Sesshomaru’s lips part, but whatever he plans to say never makes it out; instead, he freezes, chest expanding in an inhale. 

“What is it?” Alarm sends her heart pounding hard against her ribcage as her husband’s yokai energy heats and expands, turning the edges of her vision red. 

He reaches over, clearly fighting to be gentle, and pulls the blanket down. Kagura swears under her breath, blood running cold.

On the back of one shoulder, a brown spider’s mark stains Akinori’s skin.