#marcy x eyes
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cherryys · 5 months ago
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holy fucking shit
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strawberry-seal77 · 1 year ago
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blorbo doodles from today!!
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I call em Y@ng because killgore had that cool bit with the % and I had to take the opportunity that arose with the @ symbol !! :3
anyways I'll maybe do more with this because putting characters in situations is GREAT!! :D
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bwabys-scenarios · 8 months ago
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Making you a mother
Laois x Fem!Reader
!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!
A/N: this is a request from AO3!! Short but sweet ^^
warnings: big breeding kink, reader gets pregnant, Laois is really insistent on filling you up with his cum, biting, overstimulation
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Laois held onto your hips, squeezing the soft flesh as he pulled you close to rub his bulge against your needy pussy. “You’re so pretty…”
His eyes were slightly hazy with lust, and you couldn’t help but whine, rubbing against him desperately. “P-please, Laois! I need it!”
The feeling of his calloused fingers tracing over your belly made you shiver in anticipation. Lately, you had noticed how focused on making sure you were well fed he was, along with fascinated with your tummy.
“Gonna…” he murmured, his fingers pressing down on the fatty part of your belly that protected your uterus. “gonna put a baby there, okay? Gonna…”
Your cheeks flushed with heat, the wet spot in your panties growing. Laois had never talked like that before, you didn’t even think he wanted children…
His thumb rubbed against your clothed clit as his lips pressed against your neck. “You want it? Want me to make you a mommy?”
“P-please…” you managed to choke out through your whimpers and panting. “Need it so bad!”
“Anything for you, sunshine…”
He pulled off your underwear, his cock rubbing against your dripping pussy. Usually he was insistent on eating you out, but today he desperately needed to fill you up with his cum. Laois needed to breed you more than he needed to breathe air.
He pushed in, groaning against your neck as your pussy clenched around him, eager to drain him of all his cum from the get go. “That’s my baby, gonna fill you up, promise…”
Laois fucked into you, biting down on your neck hard enough to have you yelp. But the pain ebbed away into pleasure, and his teeth were replaced with his lips, kissing away at the red mark.
“Sorry, love… can’t help it…”
He was hitting that special spot, making you cry out his name. “L-Laois, please don’t stop!”
Your nails dug into the soft flesh of his back, making him let out a sharp hiss. “Won’t, I promise…”
And he was right. Even hours later, when you were beyond exhausted and stuffed full of cum, he was still hitting that special spot, making you cum on his cock over and over.
“T-too much…” you were being fucked stupid, barely able to speak.
“Shh, you can take it. Gotta make sure it takes…”
He lightly pressed down on your belly, making his cum squirt out of you. Laois pouted a little.
“Looks like I’ll have to go again…”
———————
A few months later, you sat with Marcille as she fawned over your baby bump. “Oh, I can’t wait to be an Aunt! Do you think the baby will call me Auntie Marcille?”
You laughed, glancing at Laois as Falin and him watched the two of you through the doorway. “Probably. Marcille might be a mouthful for a baby though.”
“What about Marcy!?”
Laois and Falin cracked up, causing the blonde elf to blush. “W-what are you two laughing at?”
“Nothing… it just seems like you’re more eager for the baby to come than (Name) and I are.” Laois said, taking you into his arms. His hand brushed over your belly, his thumb rubbing against the bump softly.
Falin smiled warmly. “I think we’re all excited. Senshi has already started mapping out a meal plan for (Name)’s pregnancy.”
“Haha, he said he’ll teach the baby everything he knows, and Chilchuck is already giving me advice,” you said, laughing. “It’s sweet, you know they say raising a child takes a village… you guys are our village.”
Marcille started crying, hugging you. “Oh stop it, I’m going to cry!”
“Dear, you’re already crying.” Falin replied, kissing the top of her head.
You and Laois shared a kiss before he led you away by the hand. “Sorry ladies, but my wife needs a nap.”
Laois curled up next to you in bed, his face nuzzled into your neck. “Rest, my love.”
And you did, curled up with your beloved.
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miley1442111 · 6 months ago
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Heyyy!! Would you be interested in writing an angst aaron and bau!reader fic where they're in an established relationship for quite a while now and even have a kid together other than jack. they having relationship problems tho and maybe decided to take some time off their relationship temporarily. so reader takes her and aarons kid in their time off and jack is with aaron. angst where poor jack feels abandoned by reader and thinks she's leaving them cause both the adults are too prideful to talk everything out and make it work. (you can write it however like btw but hopefully with a happy ending 🤞����🤍🤍)
i love this idea, sorry i let it sit for so long! only realised i hadn't posted this now :0
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pinky promises-a.hotchner
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a/n: fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)
summary: how you and aaron worry jack, and how aaron finds something out 20 years later.
pairing: aaron hotchner x reader
warnings: angst, fighting, mentions of divorce, jack being upset, etc.
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It had been weeks and weeks of pointless fighting. You were exhausted. Aaron was exhausted. 
“What do you want me to say about it Aaron?” You sighed, exasperation running through your bones. 
“I want you to say anything!” He shouted. You felt a wire snap inside you. Aaron never shouted at you. He knew how horrible he was being. He knew how bad you felt. He knew that this was a stupid thing to be fighting about.
“I’m going to my brother’s house, how about that?” You sighed. “Is that what you wanted me to say?” 
Aaron rolled his eyes, irritated at your dramatics. When he came home from one of the worst cases he’d been on for a while, all he’d wanted was to wrap you up in his arms and not let you go. But of course, he had to ruin it by starting an argument. You were 7 months postpartum, he shouldn’t have been picking fights and he knew it. But he was just so irritated. He realised something, he was taking the worst parts of his job home with him again.
“I need a break from it Aaron, alright. I’ll take Marcy and you’ll get some real sleep for a weekend and we’ll calm down and talk on Monday, alright?” 
Some sleep sounded great. Calming down sounded great. Reconciling sounded great. “Alright,” he nodded curtly. 
“Alright,” you sighed. You had never wanted it to come to this. He promised you it wouldn’t come to this. 
Yet it had. 
“I’ll pack a bag for you,” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek as he started to walk off but you grabbed his hand and kissed it softly.
“I love you. Always,” you reminded him. His heart melted a little bit. 
“I love you too.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------ While you and Aaron were busy fighting, Jack was in his playroom down the hall. He was terrified, you were leaving? You were taking Marcy? 
What would happen to him? He’d already lost his mom, he couldn’t lose you too.
“Honey?” He whispered as you passed the playroom. He’d picked up the habit of calling you ‘honey’ the same way Aaron did. 
“Hey Jackers,” you smiled through the inner monologue running through your head. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” 
Jack thought this would be his last time with you tucking him in, so he got up immediately and hugged your legs. You chuckled at his antics, unaware of his anxieties, and picked him up in your arms. 
“Can I say goodnight to Marcy?” He asked and you nodded.
“Of course you can, I’ll get your dad as well, we can all say goodnight,” You smiled.
Jack, being the little profiler he was, noticed the way you’d said ‘his dad’ not just ‘dad’. His stomach dropped. He felt sick, the kind of sick he felt before he vomited.  Jack ran into Marcy’s nursery as you went to find Aaron.
“Ok Marcy, I love you, I don’t say it enough,” he whispered into her cot as she slept soundly. “I hope I was a good big brother, you were a great little sister-”
“What are you doing jack?” You asked, worried  and confused by his actions. Aaron stood behind you, his signature frown painted on his face. 
Jack started crying and both you and Aaron ran to him, wrapping him up in your arms. After a few minutes of calming him down, and calming Marcy down after she woke up with Jack crying, you sat on the floor of the nursery beside Aaron as Jack explained. 
“WellIheardyouguysfightingandIknowY/nisgoingawaynowandI’llmissher-” He rushed out but Aaron held up a hand to stop him. 
“Slowly Jack, slowly,” he reminded him and Jack crawled into Aaron’s lap and whispered it to him. 
“I heard you two fighting, and it was like when mom and you used to fight, so I know it means that Y/n and Marcy are going away now, like when you went away and I’m sad because I’ll miss them like I miss mommy,” he sniffled as Aaron’s heart broke. His eyes filled with tears that he forced himself to swallow, the task almost proving too difficult. He looked at you, your head in your hands, you’d heard him too. 
“Jack, your dad and I aren’t breaking up, we’re both just really stressed right now and we thought it would be a good idea to give each other some space. The only reason I’d take Marcy is because I have to breastfeed her,” you explained, your voice breaking. “I love your dad so much, and I love you so much, I could never leave you,” you smiled sadly and took his hand. “Remember the pinky promise I made to you on my wedding day? I meant that.”
Aaron’s ears peaked up as Jack nodded. There was something unspoken about the way that Jack seemed to relax at your words, his entire body lacking any and all tension in mere seconds. 
What was the pinky promise?
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Aaron walked out of Jack’s bedroom and leant against the door of your bedroom, watching you read your book. When you looked up, you were reminded of a younger Aaron, the one you'd met in college when he was with Haley. You felt awful having a massive crush on one of your friend’s boyfriend so you steered clear of him. Who knew you’d be here now? His wife. The mother to his children. 
“Hey handsome,” you smiled at him. 
“I don’t want space. Please don’t leave,” he asked, not meeting your eyes. 
“Let’s be honest, we both know I wasn’t getting over the threshold of my brother’s place before I ran back,” you smiled. Aaron plunked himself down beside you, lying down and pressing kisses against your neck. 
“I’m sorry I picked a fight,” he sighed.
“Sorry I kept it going,” you whispered, kissing his head. 
“So we're alright?” he asked hopefully.
“Yes, we’re ok,” you chuckled. His hands wrapped around you, pulling himself closer into your comforting embrace. For a few minutes, he tried to read your book alongside you, but his question still nagged, what was the promise?
“You want to know what the promise was, don’t you,” you chuckled.
“Yes,” he admitted, a shy smile on his face.
“Too bad,” you smirked, making him roll his eyes. 
------------------------------------------------------------------------------It was 20 years later that he found out what the promise was, on Jack’s wedding day.
“Now, probably 20 odd years or so, I made a promise to Jack on my wedding day,” you admitted in your speech. Aaron’s interest peaked once more. “I promised him that I would love him and his dad as long as they allowed me to. That as long as Jack wanted me there, I would be. I told him he could call it off at any time, if anything was ever too much for him or if he hated me when he became a teenager. I promised him I’d go without a word of his involvement. I swore that I’d love him until the minute he didn't want me there, and even then that I'd just love him from far away. But I’m so happy you let me stay around Jack, you’ve become quite the amazing person,” you smiled through tears as he held your hand in his, just like he had all those years ago. Aaron’s heart swelled. You’d thought about Jack since day one. When your speech was finished, Aaron pulled you away from the rest of the party to kiss you in the beautiful sunset, the same venue you two had gotten married in. 
He loved you.
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criminal minds masterlist :)
navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)
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thaoworra · 6 months ago
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The Science Fiction and Fantasy Poetry Association recently released the poems that made it to the finalist stage for consideration for the 2024 Rhysling Awards for Short and Long Speculative Poems of the year. Congratulations to all of the nominees! This will be the 46th year these awards have been conferred!
Short Poems (50 finalists)
Attn: Prime Real Estate Opportunity!, Emily Ruth Verona, Under Her Eye: A Women in Horror Poetry Collection Volume II
The Beauty of Monsters, Angela Liu, Small Wonders 1
The Blight of Kezia, Patricia Gomes, HWA Poetry Showcase X
The Day We All Died, A Little, Lisa Timpf, Radon 5
Deadweight, Jack Cooper, Propel 7
Dear Mars, Susan L. Lin, The Sprawl Mag 1.2
Dispatches from the Dragon's Den, Mary Soon Lee, Star*Line 46.2
Dr. Jekyll, West Ambrose, Thin Veil Press December
First Eclipse: Chang-O and the Jade Hare, Emily Jiang, Uncanny 53
Five of Cups Considers Forgiveness, Ali Trotta, The Deadlands 31
Gods of the Garden, Steven Withrow, Spectral Realms 19
The Goth Girls' Gun Gang, Marisca Pichette, The Dread Machine 3.2
Guiding Star, Tim Jones, Remains to be Told: Dark Tales of Aotearoa, ed. Lee Murray (Clan Destine Press)
Hallucinations Gifted to Me by Heatstroke, Morgan L. Ventura, Banshee 15
hemiplegic migraine as willing human sacrifice, Ennis Rook Bashe, Eternal Haunted Summer Winter Solstice
Hi! I am your Cortical Update!, Mahaila Smith, Star*Line 46.3
How to Make the Animal Perfect?, Linda D. Addison, Weird Tales 100
I Dreamt They Cast a Trans Girl to Give Birth to the Demon, Jennessa Hester, HAD October
Invasive, Marcie Lynn Tentchoff, Polar Starlight 9
kan-da-ka, Nadaa Hussein, Apparition Lit 23
Language as a Form of Breath, Angel Leal, Apparition Lit October
The Lantern of September, Scott Couturier, Spectral Realms 19
Let Us Dream, Myna Chang, Small Wonders 3
The Magician's Foundling, Angel Leal, Heartlines Spec 2
The Man with the Stone Flute, Joshua St. Claire, Abyss & Apex 87
Mass-Market Affair, Casey Aimer, Star*Line 46.4
Mom's Surprise, Francis W. Alexander, Tales from the Moonlit Path June
A Murder of Crows, Alicia Hilton, Ice Queen 11
No One Now Remembers, Geoffrey Landis, Fantasy and Science Fiction Nov./Dec.
orion conquers the sky, Maria Zoccula, On Spec 33.2
Pines in the Wind, Karen Greenbaum-Maya, The Beautiful Leaves (Bamboo Dart Press)
The Poet Responds to an Invitation from the AI on the Moon, T.D. Walker, Radon Journal 5
A Prayer for the Surviving, Marisca Pichette, Haven Speculative 9
Pre-Nuptial, F. J. Bergmann, The Vampiricon (Mind's Eye Publications)
The Problem of Pain, Anna Cates, Eye on the Telescope 49
The Return of the Sauceress, F. J. Bergmann, The Flying Saucer Poetry Review February
Sea Change, David C. Kopaska-Merkel and Ann K. Schwader, Scifaikuest May
Seed of Power, Linda D. Addison, The Book of Witches ed. Jonathan Strahan (Harper Collins)
Sleeping Beauties, Carina Bissett, HWA Poetry Showcase X
Solar Punks, J. D. Harlock, The Dread Machine 3.1
Song of the Last Hour, Samuel A. Betiku, The Deadlands 22
Sphinx, Mary Soon Lee, Asimov's September/October
Storm Watchers (a drabbun), Terrie Leigh Relf, Space & Time
Sunflower Astronaut, Charlie Espinosa, Strange Horizons July
Three Hearts as One, G. O. Clark, Asimov's May/June
Troy, Carolyn Clink, Polar Starlight 12
Twenty-Fifth Wedding Anniversary, John Grey, Medusa's Kitchen September
Under World, Jacqueline West, Carmina Magazine September
Walking in the Starry World, John Philip Johnson, Orion's Belt May
Whispers in Ink, Angela Yuriko Smith, Whispers from Beyond (Crystal Lake Publishing)
Long Poems (25 finalists)
Archivist of a Lost World, Gerri Leen, Eccentric Orbits 4
As the witch burns, Marisca Pichette, Fantasy 87
Brigid the Poet, Adele Gardner, Eternal Haunted Summer Summer Solstice
Coding a Demi-griot (An Olivian Measure), Armoni “Monihymn” Boone, Fiyah 26
Cradling Fish, Laura Ma, Strange Horizons May
Dream Visions, Melissa Ridley Elmes, Eccentric Orbits 4
Eight Dwarfs on Planet X, Avra Margariti, Radon Journal 3
The Giants of Kandahar, Anna Cates, Abyss & Apex 88
How to Haunt a Northern Lake, Lora Gray, Uncanny 55
Impostor Syndrome, Robert Borski, Dreams and Nightmares 124
The Incessant Rain, Rhiannon Owens, Evermore 3
Interrogation About A Monster During Sleep Paralysis, Angela Liu, Strange Horizons November
Little Brown Changeling, Lauren Scharhag, Aphelion 283
A Mere Million Miles from Earth, John C. Mannone, Altered Reality April
Pilot, Akua Lezli Hope, Black Joy Unbound eds. Stephanie Andrea Allen & Lauren Cherelle (BLF Press)
Protocol, Jamie Simpher, Small Wonders 5
Sleep Dragon, Herb Kauderer, The Book of Sleep (Written Image Press)
Slow Dreaming, Herb Kauderer, The Book of Sleep (Written Image Press)
St. Sebastian Goes To Confession, West Ambrose, Mouthfeel 1
Value Measure, Joseph Halden and Rhonda Parrish, Dreams and Nightmares 125
A Weather of My Own Making, Nnadi Samuel, Silver Blade 56
Welcoming the New Girl, Beth Cato, Penumbric October
What You Find at the Center, Elizabeth R McClellan, Haven Spec Magazine 12
The Witch Makes Her To-Do List, Theodora Goss, Uncanny 50
The Year It Changed, David C. Kopaska-Merkel, Star*Line 46.4
Voting for the Rhysling Award begins July 1; a link to the ballot will be sent with the Rhysling Anthology, as well as with the July issue of Star*Line. More information on the Rhysling Award can be found here.
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j4gm · 1 year ago
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SPOILERS!!! REFERENCES AND EASTER EGGS IN F&C ep. 1: FIONNA CAMPBELL
Here's a bunch of stuff I spotted. Feel free to add more.
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During the anime girl hero dream Fionna mentions Hans Brinker, a character from a novel which introduced speed skating to the United States.
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The BMO style alarm clock has BMO's voice.
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The ducks that steal Marshall Lee's money look like one-headed versions of the two-headed duck from the original Adventure Time title sequence.
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Cheers is a real sitcom. Simon previously sang its theme song in the episode Simon & Marcy, and now it seems to have manifested in the human AU due to his connection with it.
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Fionna says "stop acting crazy" to Cake with the same meter as Marceline said "stop acting crazy" to Ice King in the episode I Remember You.
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We all spotted this in the trailer but there's a Magic Man hat in this shot. Magic Man's hat was most recently seen being worn by Betty.
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The Betty statue also suggests that Simon's psyche has significant influence over this world. The fountain includes frogs, a symbol of change that was previously also used in Temple of Mars. And Fionna mentions the statue underwent renovation twelve years ago, which is the same amount of time that's passed in the prime universe since Betty's amalgamation with GOLB.
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It would seem Mrs. Abadeer runs a vacuum cleaner company as well as being Fionna's landlady. And Queenie runs an accounting business as well as the tour bus.
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The stickers on Marshall Lee's guitar case are all references to real life punk rock bands. X-Ray Pex = X-Ray Spex, Daikini Kill = Bikini Kill, PM might be a reference to AM as in the Arctic Monkeys. I'm not sure what Las Crudas and Dark Eyes are references to. Perhaps someone more familiar with punk rock can let me know?
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In case you were wondering, the credits confirm that this is human genderswapped Fern. It's a bit more obvious now that we can see all her green clothes and backpack, and given what she said about her dreams being super messed up. I'm not gonna go through the rest of the cameo characters in this episode because most of them are pretty obvious or already got figured out when the trailer dropped. That said, if anyone knows who the bus driver is meant to be please let me know.
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The sword in the window of this games shop looks very similar to Fionna's sword from the original comic series.
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The latte that Gumball - ahem I mean Gary - makes in this scene features PB's swan.
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Okay one more cameo mention because I feel like it might become significant later. This is Ice Queen.
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Fionna and Cake are dreaming about their apartment block in the credits of this episode, but it has a roof like the Tree Fort and the same little boat with a telescope and parasol.
Episode 2 to follow!
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bellaxgiornata · 9 months ago
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If We're Being Honest [1/2]
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 6.8k [Part 2]
Summary: Already having an awful week, you're a bit out of it while at Josie's with your friends, too busy sulking and drinking down your feelings to keep up with conversation. The sight of Matt wandering off with a beautiful woman yet again certainly doesn't help. But when you stay behind by yourself to finish your drink and wallow a bit more, you're surprised when Matt reappears and offers to let you stay the night at his place. Eventually, the night takes a turn you weren't anticipating.
Warnings/Tags: Angst with a happy ending, confession of feelings (with a twist), delayed comfort, anxious/depressed inebriated Reader
a/n: This is a two part little fic with angst in this first half and the comfort y'all want in the second half. I was craving angst and a twist on the typical confession of feelings fic, so here y'all go! Feedback is always appreciated!
Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia
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Absently spinning your bottle of beer on the table with one hand, your eyes were fixed on the little droplets of condensation along the side of it. Your chin rested in the palm of your other hand as you watched one of the droplets begin to snake its way down the side of the brown glass, moving as if it was in slow motion. Outside of the bar, the downpour of summer rain battered against the window to your left.
Foggy’s hand loudly and abruptly slapping the table broke through your daze, causing you to jump in your seat. Eyes flying over towards him beside you, you watched as he let out a boisterous laugh, throwing his head back over his shoulders. Karen and Matt both quickly followed after, breaking into a fit of laughter along with him. Meanwhile you sat in your seat with absolutely no idea what had them laughing so hard because you hadn't been paying attention to the conversation for the past few minutes. 
You'd been having a rough week, both emotionally and mentally, and were currently trying your hardest not to sit and wallow in self-pity tonight–but you weren't doing a great job of that so far. Not only had you received a wedding invitation to your cousin's wedding the other day, but last night Marci had asked you to be a bridesmaid at her and Foggy’s upcoming wedding. Which of course you'd said yes to, ecstatic for your friends to finally be getting married and having an actual date set for their big day. But all of that had made you increasingly aware of your own single-ness this week in particular, especially after Karen had spent the first part of tonight gushing about the new guy she'd been seeing. 
You were happy for your friends, honestly. They were amazing people who deserved nothing but the best. You absolutely couldn't wait for all of the wedding festivities coming up that you'd be celebrating with everyone, either–for Marci and Fog's wedding and your cousin. You even thought the guy Karen was seeing sounded like an actual great catch for her for once. 
But you just couldn't help but feel like there was something wrong with you tonight. It had been far too long since you'd last had a date, and even longer than that since you'd been in a relationship. It didn't help that you certainly didn’t feel like you fit in with this group of friends you’d somehow found yourself a part of for the past almost year now. 
It had been by sheer accident that you’d met Foggy and Karen one morning all those months ago. And it was only because the three of you had had a coffee mishap at a coffee shop near the office where they worked. It was Foggy who’d chased you out of that shop for the drink you'd accidentally grabbed by mistake. Apparently it had been for his law firm partner Matt, who happened to be very particular about his coffee. They needed to be at the courthouse in time for a court case that morning so he didn't have time to get back in line to reorder the coffee. Having not had a chance to drink from the cup in the time you'd managed to grab it and make your way out the door, you'd readily swapped Matt's drink with your actual coffee that Foggy had grabbed. You’d apologized profusely for the mistake, but you'd formed the opinion that his firm partner sounded like an ass to be that particular about his coffee.
And for the next few mornings before work after that, you kept noticing Karen and Foggy at the same coffee shop. The pair of them were always excited to greet you, jokingly dubbing you the ‘coffee thief’ from that moment forward. It wasn’t long before the morning small talk in the line for coffee eventually led to them inviting you out to this little dive bar at Josie’s where you had finally met him .
Matthew Michael Murdock.
As the laughter subsided at the table, your eyes shifted over to Matt as if they were magnetically drawn to him. There was a broad smile stretched wide across his face, displaying his perfect, white teeth. The adorable, lone dimple in his right cheek was visible tonight just beneath the stubble that was a bit darker and thicker than he usually kept it. His dark hair was partially windswept but now finally dry from the rain that had dampened it earlier. Somehow that had just made his hair look messy in a way that seemed intentional. His tie was partially undone, loose around the collar of his light blue dress shirt; and as usual by the time he’d reached Josie’s, his sleeves had been rolled up exactly two times to reveal those muscular forearms of his covered in that smattering of little dark hairs you’d always longed to touch. 
He looked good– so good. But he always did. 
And of course, you were aware that you weren't the only one who ever noticed that.
The tall brunette you’d caught eyeing Matt all night finally appeared just over his shoulder and you released a sigh, already knowing what was coming next. Matt always attracted attention from beautiful women wherever he went because he was handsome and charismatic and sweet. He was impossible to miss in a room full of people. Which was honestly true of Karen, Marci, and Foggy, too. They were all attractive, successful, and exceptionally well-spoken individuals with big personalities that you couldn’t help but be drawn to.
But not you. You stood out like a painting on a hotel wall wherever you went–common, bland, and not remotely out of the ordinary. 
“Excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt,” the brunette began as she stopped beside the table. Her eyes landed on Matt as she flashed a stunning smile his way. “I couldn't help but keep stealing glances at you all night and I figured I'd finally just say hello.”
Matt turned in his chair towards the woman, a charming smile already prepared on his face for her. “Well I'm flattered,” he told her. “I only wish I could say the same about stealing glances at you in return all night, but well–”
Matt gestured at his red glasses as the woman laughed, the sound itself somehow even perfect and attractive. That dark feeling of jealousy and despair began knotting together, swirling in your gut and mixing with the beers you'd already downed. Movement across the table from you caught your attention and you glanced over, catching the sight of Karen playfully but discreetly rolling her eyes at you and Foggy. Foggy chuckled lightly in response, nodding a little. Your attention returned back to the condensation on your beer bottle, not interested in having a front row seat to watching another one of Matt's hook-ups pan out.
“Would it be alright if I bought you a drink?” you overheard the brunette ask. “I mean, if I'm not interrupting?”
“I can assure you that you’re absolutely not interrupting anything,” Matt told her, already sliding his chair back and rising to his feet. “I think these three have endured my company long enough for this evening anyway, and it isn't often a woman offers to buy me a drink.”
Matt said a quick round of goodbyes to the three of you as that beautiful brunette’s perfect laugh trilled over the sound of the rock music playing on the bar’s speakers. You muttered something back half-heartedly, not even bothering to glance up from your beer. It wasn’t like he’d have noticed anyway.
“Well maybe it’s about that time,” Foggy said, pulling the sleeve of his dress shirt back to check the time on his watch. “Marci had appointments for cake tastings tomorrow morning and I do not want to miss out on that.” 
Across the table, Karen raised her bottle up to her lips, downing the rest of her beer before setting the empty bottle back onto the table. “I might see if Alex wants to stop over tonight, actually,” she told you both. “Since it’s Friday and I don’t need to show up at the office for once on a Saturday morning.”
As both of them began sliding their chairs back, gathering their things from the table, you remained seated. Fingers tapping against the beer bottle, you watched as a droplet of condensation raced another over the curve of the glass. Out of your peripheral, you caught the way both Foggy and Karen’s movements slowed, the two of them exchanging an uncertain look with each other. Then you heard the way Karen said your name softly in question. Eyes shifting upwards, you focused on her on the other side of the table.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked. “You’ve been oddly quiet all night.”
You forced a tired smile onto your face, nodding as you continued to rest your chin in your hand. “I’m fine,” you lied. “Just going to finish my drink before I leave, I think. Been a rough week at work and I just need to relax a little.”
“Do you…want us to stay?” Foggy asked.
You shook your head, releasing the bottle from your grip long enough to wave the pair of them off. “I’m fine drinking by myself, don’t worry about me,” you told him. “Go on. You both have someone to get back to tonight anyway, I’ll be alright.”
Karen hesitated beside the table, her concerned eyes landing back on Foggy still standing next to you. It looked like they were having a silent conversation with each other, but the thought of them staying here to keep you company when you knew there was somewhere they’d rather be–some one who’d they’d rather be with–only made that uncomfortable and sickening feeling of jealousy in your gut worse. 
Forcing that smile back on your face, you sat upright in your chair, ignoring the way the bar around you briefly spun in your vision from the beers you'd drank. Attempting to play the part of being just fine, you hoped that neither of them could see the truth behind the mask you’d thrown on. You just wanted to sulk back for a few minutes and finish your beer while you unhealthily forced yourself to acknowledge the fact that Matt looked far better next to a woman like the one he was currently laughing with at the bar than someone like you. Then you’d go home, throw on your stained and worn pajamas that weren’t remotely sexy, and probably watch a bit of mindless television before going to bed. Alone. Like every other night.
“Alright, well…hopefully you enjoy your drink,” Karen replied hesitantly, still looking uncertain.
“Make sure you call for a ride, too,” Foggy said, pointing a finger at the window beside you. “Still raining cats and dogs out there. You don’t want to step in a poodle–I mean, puddle–on your way home.”
You laughed lightly at his joke, though not as much as you would’ve done any other night. Exchanging goodbyes with both of them afterwards, you sighed in relief when they finally turned and headed towards the exit. Slumping back down in your seat, you focused on the window to your left as you drew your bottle of beer back up to your lips, watching as the rain continued to come down hard. 
Maybe Melissa at work was right. Maybe it was time you tried downloading one of those stupid dating apps, even though the thought of weeding out so many assholes who just wanted sex was the last thing you wanted to do. But maybe it would beat being alone all the time. It wasn’t like you were having any luck trying to meet someone the old fashioned way–in person.
Taking another drink from your beer, your attention returned to Matt's back as he sat at the bar beside the attractive woman. Drinking down a few deep gulps, you wondered what it would be like to ever have his undivided attention like that. To have him throw jokes your way because he was trying to win you over, not because you were just one of his friends. To have his hand linger on your thigh while he spoke to you because he wanted you and he wanted you to know that. Or to have him lean in towards your ear and whisper literally anything to you. 
Swallowing your beer down, you tore your eyes away from the sight of Matt at the bar. He'd never once flirted with you like that, the thought only increasing the lingering pain of jealousy now spreading to your chest, feeling like it was sucking your heart into a blackhole of nothingness. You just weren't good enough were you?
Ducking your head, you tried to hide the emotion on your face even if the only person left at this bar to notice and comment would be Josie herself. Still, you'd rather not be asked to explain why you looked quite so miserable. But it hurt to realize that every single one of your friends had someone else to go home to tonight, and here you were drinking alone. Going home to an empty apartment after.
Figuring it was time you just downed the rest of your drink and headed home, you grabbed your beer and quickly drained the rest of its contents. Maybe being drenched in the summer rain on your walk back home would make you feel something tonight besides the growing ache of loneliness. 
Setting the finished bottle of beer back onto the table, you clumsily pushed your chair back. Rising to your feet, you nearly lost your balance when you slid out of the chair. Your hands darted out, grabbing onto the table to steady yourself for a moment. Maybe you'd drank those beers back faster than you'd realized, clearly a little more buzzed than you'd expected.
“Not a big deal,” you mumbled to yourself, maneuvering around the chair, “I can still manage to walk back inebriated in the rain.”
Slipping your purse from off the back of the chair, you tossed the strap over your head and readjusted it on yourself. Then you pushed the chair forward so as not to trip over it before turning. 
Immediately you stopped when you saw you weren't alone, a surprised gasp coming from you. You would’ve stumbled backwards if it hadn't been for your hand that flew out, grabbing onto the back of the chair you'd just pushed in. Matt was standing at the edge of the table, his cane unfolded and in both of his hands.
“Hey,” he said, his attention clearly fixed on you. “Josie said you were still here by yourself.”
Brows knitting together in confusion at him suddenly appearing over here when he had just been at the bar, you glanced back over to where you'd last seen him. The brunette he'd been talking to had disappeared entirely, no longer sitting on the bar stool. 
“Yeah, I was just…finishing my drink,” you replied, still scanning the bar for the woman. “Weren't you with someone just a minute ago?”
“Well I was,” he answered, “until Josie pointed out how you were sitting here all by yourself after Fog and Karen had already gone home. Had me worried. Are you doing alright?”
Your gaze returned back to him, taking in the look of concern etched across his handsome face. The same look Karen and Foggy had shared tonight. 
“I'm fine,” you said, repeating the same lie. 
Matt's head tilted curiously to the side, a mannerism of his that you always found adorable. Except for right now, because it felt like he was analyzing what you'd said far more closely than your other friends had.
“If you're heading out, I can call you a car,” Matt suggested. “I can even wait with you if you'd like.”
You shook your head, beginning to make your way past him. “I'm fine, Matt,” you told him. “I was just going to walk back.”
“In the rain?” he asked. “I might be blind but I'm not deaf. It's pouring outside. And you've had quite a few drinks tonight, let me just call you a car. You shouldn’t be walking home in that.”
“Maybe I want to take a walk in the rain,” you countered, coming to a stop beside him. “Something wrong with that? It's just rain.”
His brows drew up onto his forehead behind his glasses as he shifted on his feet. “You really want to walk almost two blocks in the pouring rain right now? Stumbling down the sidewalk alone?” he asked. “You sure about that?”
A frown settled onto your face. When he put it like that, no, you sort of didn't. But you also didn't feel like waiting to grab a cab, either. Especially if it meant waiting with Matt and being the cause of further ruining his evening.
“Alright, how about this,” he continued when you hadn’t answered. “You come back and stay at my place tonight. I think we can both manage a walk around the corner in the rain. I'll let you borrow something dry to sleep in and you can take the bed. That way I won't have to worry if you made it home alright and you can still have your walk in the rain.”
As his offer made its way past the alcoholic fog in your brain, your body stiffened. Had Matt really just invited you to stay the night at his place? Because he was worried about you getting home? And he'd walked away from what was clearly going to be an obvious hook-up? For you ?
You could feel your heart beating a little faster in your chest as all these things gradually began to register in your mind. Why would he do that? He’d never invited you to stay at his place before.
“I–” you began.
You could barely find the words to reply, your brain too muddled by the alcohol to think clearly. Was this just an invitation as a friend, or was it something more? 
“Is that a yes?” he questioned. “Because it sounds like the rain has eased up a bit, now would be the perfect time to head out before it downpours again.”
Slowly you nodded, the ‘yes’ coming out of you before you even realized you’d agreed. Because could you really pass up the chance to stay over at Matt’s place? You knew you’d always be left wondering what might’ve happened if you didn’t go. 
His hand extended out towards you, the movement drawing your gaze downwards. It hovered there in the space between both of your bodies, your eyes lingering on it. 
“Should we go then?” he asked.
Swallowing hard, you hesitantly reached your hand out, slipping it with uncertainty into his. But when his fingers curled around your hand in return, you realized that’s what he’d been silently asking. For you to hold his hand as you walked back with him in the rain.
��Probably will make it easier to keep either of us from tripping,” he told you, turning the pair of you around in the bar until you were both facing the exit. “Though I suppose now if one of us falls down, we both do.”
His head turned towards you, a cheeky grin on his mouth directed solely at you. You could feel the way your heart skipped in your chest at the sight, the cold, miserable feeling that you’d been experiencing all night easing its way out of you just a little. 
“So, do you care to lead the way or…?”
Snapping out of your daze staring at him–something you were grateful he couldn’t see–you quickly nodded. “Right, sorry,” you muttered, beginning to lead the pair of you towards the door.
The moment you’d led the pair of you out of Josie’s and out from beneath the little overhang at the entrance, the warm rain had already begun to soak your hair and your clothes. It had felt good though, especially with Matt’s warm, calloused hand wrapped around yours. As you sidestepped a puddle, you found yourself surprised at the unexpected turn that your evening had taken. Though there was still something on your mind and your inebriated brain just couldn’t resist finding out the answer as the pair of you neared the corner of the block.
“So…how much did I ruin your night tonight?” you asked Matt cautiously.
He glanced over his shoulder towards you, his cane tapping along the sidewalk and occasionally splashing up water each time it hit a puddle. Your bottom lip rolled back between your teeth as you began nervously gnawing on it, afraid of his answer.
“You didn’t ruin my night,” he replied easily. “Though I’ve been a bit worried about you. You’ve been quieter more than usual tonight. Is something on your mind?”
Yeah, you , you thought.
But of course, you couldn’t say that aloud.
You shrugged, your gaze dropping to the pavement ahead of you. “Just feeling a little down on myself, I guess,” you muttered. 
Hearing the words aloud had you cringing as you walked. You hadn't exactly meant to be honest and tell him that. 
“Feeling down on yourself about what, exactly?” he asked.
The pair of you rounded the corner, your blouse already drenched and sticking to your skin. Glancing up at Matt from beneath your lashes beside you, you couldn't help but notice the way his dress shirt was soaked and clinging to his muscular torso. It was physically painful how attractive he was. 
“It's stupid,” you mumbled, focusing back down on the pavement. 
Matt's hand squeezed yours, your heart practically slamming into your ribcage in shock at the gesture. You hoped he didn't notice the way your palm was gradually beginning to dampen with nervous sweat.
“Tell me what's on your mind,” he urged. “You know I won't judge you.”
The pair of you were quickly approaching Matt's apartment building as his words hung in the air between you. It was true though, in all your time knowing Matt he'd never once been mean to you. Never once had he made you feel bad about yourself. If anything he'd always been sweet and supportive, which only made you like him that much more. You sighed, and then suddenly you felt your drunk thoughts spilling out of your mouth faster than you could stop them. 
“I feel like I'm not good enough,” you confessed, the words spewing from you. “I haven't had a date in a long time. And then there's Marci and Fog who're getting married soon–and that's great. They're perfect for each other. And Karen, well, she might usually have poor luck with men, but she gets dates left and right. And she's gorgeous and smart so I get it. And then you–” you continued, wincing at the memory of him next to that brunette at Josie’s, his hand on her thigh, “–you could have a new fling for every night of the week in this damn city. But me?” You roughly shook your head, a tear managing to slip out of your eye and camouflaging itself with the drops of rain on your cheeks. “No one looks twice at me. I'm not special and I'm certainly not Karen or Marci. I don't even remember the last time a guy showed up to my place with flowers. It's been a long time since someone actually asked me on a date. And–”
You stopped short, your brain finally catching up and realizing all the things you'd just said aloud. You sucked in a breath as the wave of embarrassment hit you, your mouth promptly closing. How could you have possibly just admitted all that to Matt of all people?
“You know that's not true, right?” Matt said gently, his hand once again squeezing yours. “I'm sure plenty of guys have given you second or third looks. You're an incredibly smart and talented woman and you're being far too hard on yourself.”
You scoffed loudly, rolling your eyes as heat burned at your cheeks. But at the sound of your disbelief, Matt's hand gave a sharp pull on yours, drawing you both to a stop in front of his building. 
“Hey,” he said, tugging your hand and pulling you towards himself. “You should stop thinking about yourself like that. Stop being so critical of yourself. You're so much more than you give yourself credit for.”
Hearing his kind words, you couldn't bear to look him in the face. Feeling awkward, your gaze fixed down on your wet dress flats. “Easy for you to say,” you muttered, the alcohol once more loosening your tongue, “because you're successful and don't remotely have an issue attracting the opposite sex. It's not like that for the rest of us.”
Matt said your name firmly, the tone of his voice practically commanding you to focus back on him. His expression was serious despite the red glasses he wore obscuring his eyes, making it impossible to see the entirety of his face. His hair was soaked and clinging to his head from the rain, a few droplets streaming down his handsome face as he fixed his attention solely on you. Your hands instantly began to grow clammier under his undivided attention and you hoped he thought it was just from the rain.
“You're an amazing person and some lucky guy is going to come and sweep you off your feet,” he told you. “You'll find him, I can assure you of that.”
As you gazed back at him on the sidewalk, the rain still falling over the pair of you, your buzzed brain tried to understand if there was something else hidden in Matt's words, some other thing that he was trying to tell you. Because just like he'd never invited you to stay at his place, he'd never said anything like that to you before. He'd certainly never looked at you like he currently was before, either. 
“Please try to be kinder to yourself,” Matt nearly begged. “Okay?”
Unsure what to make of his behavior tonight, you nodded slightly. “Okay,” you agreed quietly.
He smiled back at you, the sight nearly knocking you off your feet. It was quickly becoming far too difficult to just stand here trying to look at him as only a friend. And it was getting harder and harder to keep your mouth from blurting out how you felt with that stunning smile on his perfect mouth. Thankfully he continued on towards the entrance of his building, breaking you from your thoughts and leading you into the small lobby and over towards the elevators.
The entire way up to Matt's apartment had been silent after that. You were too busy trying to analyze everything he had been doing and saying tonight to even remotely think of conversation. Because it was supposed to have been that pretty woman at the bar coming up to his apartment tonight, not you. Yet here you were, still holding Matt's hand as he led you down the hallway to his place.
And while this certainly wasn't the first time you'd been here before, it was the first time you'd been here alone at night with him. The thought of staying here overnight in his bed still had your insides buzzing along with the beer you'd downed this evening. 
Was there something more you were missing? Every step closer to his apartment had you feeling like there was.
Matt eventually pulled you to a stop in front of his door, fishing his keys from out of his dress pant pockets. You watched in silence as he unlocked the door, your nerves only growing as you stood there. 
“You can come on in,” Matt told you, swinging his door open and gesturing for you to step inside. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Chewing the inside of your cheek, you hesitantly stepped forward and made your way past Matt into the apartment. Your shoulder gently and accidentally brushed against his damp chest as you tried to squeeze past him. Immediately you wrapped your arms over your chest, feeling your heart beat a little harder from the brief touch. His chest was so incredibly solid, you'd never understood how he was so in shape.
Glancing down as you paused in his entryway, you noticed the damp patch you were making on his floor as he shut and locked the door behind you. 
“I'm sorry, I'm dripping water everywhere,” you told Matt. “Do you have a towel or something?”
“How about I grab some dry clothes for you to change into,” he replied, slipping out of his dress shoes. “Then we can worry about the mess we're making.”
As he made his way down the short entryway, you stood awkwardly in place, arms still wrapped around yourself. When Matt reached the end of the little hall, he paused, glancing back at you with a charming smile on his face.
“It's just water, it's fine,” he assured you. “You can come in.”
Slowly you began to make your way into his apartment, cautiously making your way over to the side of his leather couch. Matt once again assured you he would grab some dry clothes for you to change into before disappearing into his bedroom, leaving you alone.
The lights were off in his apartment, but truthfully you didn't even need them. Looking out the window to your right, your eyes landed on the eyesore of a billboard just across the street. It had been awhile since you'd been here at night with your friends and you'd forgotten just how bright it was. Currently it was advertising a nearby hospital, the blue light shining through Matt's windows and coating the room in a navy glow. In a way it was beautiful, but you could absolutely understand why he’d gotten such a great deal on the place. 
“Hopefully these will work,” Matt said.
Tearing your eyes away from the window, your attention returned to Matt as he was leaving his bedroom. But your breath immediately caught in your throat at the unexpected sight of him sauntering his way towards you with some neatly folded clothes in his hands. It felt like you suddenly couldn't breathe as you watched each of his casual steps towards you.
He'd taken his damp shirt off and removed his glasses when he'd gone into his bedroom to grab you some clothes. The sight of which had left you damn near speechless because you'd never seen him shirtless before. It was impossible not to just blankly stare at the sight, taking in all of the defined muscle along his chest along with the girth of his muscular arms. You curiously noted the scars on his chest, but you were too busy trying to control your now violently beating heart at the view before you to think much more of them.
Matthew Murdock looked far too good to actually exist in real life. 
But why hadn't he thrown a shirt on before he'd come out to hand you the clothes? It would’ve taken him barely any time to do so. Had it been intentional that he'd done that? Was it…possible that Matt might’ve been trying to make some sort of move on you tonight? Was that why he’d invited you back here this evening instead of the other woman at the bar?
He stopped just before you, a smile on his face as his eyes fixed somewhere along your chest. You always loved when he took his glasses off around you, but unfortunately it wasn't often. He always seemed far more vulnerable, which was probably why it was a rare sight. But he’d removed them now, and as you watched him, you noticed the faintest twitch to the corner of his eyes. You wondered what that was about as he extended the clothes in his hands out towards you. 
“Here,” he said softly. “Hopefully they're comfortable, but if not, I can always get you a towel to dry off. Though really you can sleep however you're comfortable.” His smile turned cheeky–a smile he didn’t often flash your way–as the corners of his eyes creased. “Not like I can see anything anyway.”
Your fingers tightened around your damp blouse at the implication of his words. Had he just said he didn't care if you slept in nothing? In his bed?
Swallowing hard, your eyes dropped down and focused on the shirt and sweatpants that were neatly folded in his outstretched hands. His clothes. He was offering you his clothes to sleep in. Nervously you unwrapped your arms from over your chest as you took a step towards him, your trembling hands carefully reaching out and accepting the clothing from him.
“Thanks,” you whispered.
Glancing up, you realized how close the pair of you were now standing to each other. Barely any distance was left between you two. Had he even managed to move closer or were you imagining that?
“Of course,” he whispered back.
He was still smiling down at you as you drew the clothes in towards your chest. His head had tilted ever so faintly to the side as you observed him, the heat of his body warming you in your damp clothes. Why hadn’t he moved? Why was he still standing so close? 
A thought struck you as you stood there, your attention turning towards his lips. Was he…wanting to kiss you? No, that couldn’t be it.
…could it?
He had invited you back to his place after all. He’d walked you home with him in the rain hand in hand–which had been his idea. That had been far more intimate than anything the pair of you had ever done before. And now he was letting you stay the night in his bed, offering you his own clothes to change into. Saying such nice things about you. And he was just standing there, gazing down at you in nothing but a pair of damp dress pants because he’d removed his shirt without bothering to put on another one. 
This had to all be intentional, right? He could’ve easily gone home with the brunette from the bar, but he chose you, didn’t he? Maybe what he’d been saying earlier outside the building in the rain had meant something more. Could he have been talking about himself being the guy to come along and sweep you off your feet? Had that been what he’d meant all along?
Hope instantly sparked in your chest at the thought. Everything seemed to make sense, everything seemed to point at the fact that Matt might possibly view you as more than just a friend. So was this your moment then? Your chance to tell Matt how you felt and to hear he felt the same in return? Because he was still just standing there, so close you could kiss him. Why else hadn’t he moved?
Without even thinking–most likely due to the alcohol in your system–you leaned forward and boldly closed the rest of the distance between your mouths. It was a hesitant kiss, your lips ever so gently pressing against Matt’s in an uncertain connection. You couldn’t believe how incredibly soft his were, how warm they felt against your own. Your stomach began somersaulting inside of you because you were kissing Matt. It was everything you’d wanted for almost a year now.
Until he gently but abruptly pulled away from you.
Your eyes fluttered open as you drew back from him, taking in the look of utter confusion on Matt’s face. Panic immediately set in, your hands tightening around the bundle of clothing in your hands. 
“What–what are you doing?” he asked.
“I–I thought–” you stammered, struggling to form a sentence. “Was that–is this not…?”
Matt’s head only tilted further to the side, his dark brows furrowing further together on his forehead until there was a deep crease between them. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or your nerves at this point, but you felt on the verge of vomiting now.
What the hell had you just done?
“Did you think I was inviting you here to sleep with you?” he asked in disbelief. He said your name, the sound like a stab to your chest as he shook his head. “I had no intention of that. You’re drunk and you’re my friend. I wanted to make sure you got to somewhere safe tonight. I wasn’t trying to take advantage of you. That’s not–that’s not what I was doing.”
“Oh my God,” you breathed out, taking a step back from him. “Oh my God, I thought that–that you…”
Your words trailed off, eyes growing wide as the urge to bolt quickly took over you. You could feel the sting of tears burning in your eyes already, absolutely mortified at what you’d done and how you’d wildly misread the entire situation. How could you have been so incredibly stupid?
“I’m sorry,” you apologized, vision blurring from the tears welling up in your eyes. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have–that wasn’t okay. I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve had too much to drink and–and I wasn’t thinking,” you blabbered on. “I absolutely misread things, I just thought that–that maybe you liked me, too and–”
Matt said your name softly, as if he was trying to calm a panicked animal. “You’re my friend,” he told you. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression at all this evening but–”
You practically threw the bundle of clothes back at Matt’s bare chest. His hands flew up, somehow catching them, but the gesture had cut him clean off. That spark of hope that had formed in your chest moments ago quickly sizzled out. A roiling, churning instead grew in your stomach, making you certain that you’d throw up soon if you didn’t get the hell out of here. 
“I need to go,” you blurted.
Turning abruptly, you hurried through Matt’s living room and down the entryway hall. Behind you, you heard him calling your name, but you didn’t dare stop. You couldn’t face him, not after what you’d just idiotically done. Especially not now as the tears were finally falling down your cheeks in hot spurts, embarrassment and rejection both burning inside of you. You just needed to get out of here, needed to get away from this entire horrible situation. You couldn’t believe you’d just gone and kissed him like that.
Your frantic hands fumbled with the lock on his door, but you managed to undo it and wrench it open in a rush. Continuing to ignore him calling after you, you pulled the door shut after yourself before you darted across the hall and straight to the door leading to the stairwell. Throwing it open, you began racing down the stairs as fast as you could, a hand covering your mouth as you tried to muffle your pathetic sobs. Your heart slammed away against your ribcage as the tears began to fall faster down your cheeks. As you descended the stairs, your vision blurred from tears and the alcohol you'd drank, causing you to stumble a few times on your way all the way down to the main floor. 
Ignoring the looks from the few people you sprinted past in the lobby, you headed straight towards the building’s exit. Forcefully pushing the doors open, you made your way back out onto the sidewalk and into the rain. A choked sob slipped past your fingers as you continued to hurry down the pavement and back towards your own apartment, your flats quickly becoming soaked as you stepped through a few puddles, splashing water up onto your dress pants. 
You’d just gone and kissed Matt like an absolute idiot. Of course he’d told you that he only saw you as a friend. Why would Matt ever be interested in someone like you? Someone awkward and average, nothing special. 
You’d absolutely ruined that friendship now, too. There was no way in hell you could ever face him again. You weren’t sure how you were going to survive Marci’s wedding months from now. Maybe if you were lucky you could try to ignore him all day. He’d probably be more than happy to do the same after tonight.
“ Why did I kiss him?” you lamented to yourself. “How stupid !”
Your tears continued to fall, mixing with the heavy rain drops pelting your cheeks as you rushed back to your place. All you wanted to do was get up to your apartment and crawl beneath the blankets in your bed and hide. You just wanted to forget this entire nightmare of an evening. There was no way to salvage what you’d done, to take it back. 
You should have never gone out tonight.
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romanarose · 10 months ago
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Misunderstanding
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Marc Spector x fem!reader
Join my taglist! Masterlist Read on ao3
Summary: When the boys come home early and see boxes all packed and furniture on the street, Marc jumps to the worst option. Clearly, you're leaving him.
Warnings: PIV sex, wall sex, oral f!recieving, manhandling, rough needy smut but loving and passionate, anxiety attack, Marc's self loathing but reader adores him. Calling Marc all kinda of cute nick names.
Immersability: Reader is fem, afab. Reader can be largly supported against the wall by Marc's strong arms <3
A/N: Commission done for @minigirl87 thank you SOOOOOOO much for your patience!!! Next time I do commissions i need to not do them right before moving. Left me quite behind. Anyway appreciate you so much!
Support creators! Reblog!
2.2k words
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Chaos made Marc anxious.
So, that’s why you decided to do spring cleaning while he and the boys were at work, hoping to get most of it done before the boys returned from work. What threw all your plans out of whack was a chance spotting on facebook marketplace. The prettiest furniture you’ve ever seen in your life was for fucking free. The owners were cleaning out the house from their mom who just passed, and just wanted the furniture to go to someone who’d love it like their mom did. And boy did you love it. The style was French Louis XVI. Fucking beautiful. So, you were making room. 
A lot was going to be given away with permission from your boys, and you’d be doing a lot of reorganizing of Steven’s books. A lot of trash, oh my god so much trash. Marc sure did love take out, even if it drove Jakey crazy. Then your old furniture was hauled out into the street for the garbage on tuesday, or some desperate soul. You hadn’t quite gotten to organizing Steven’s books and papers, but the trash was picked up, floors swept and mopped, and the old furniture was out. You needed to pick up your dream furniture, so you hopped into your car.
Steven was elated he got to go home early. It was only an hour, but that’s an hour more with you!!! You loved extra time with you!! There was a spring in his step, happily humming along to some song on Jake’s playlist on their phone. 
Until he saw it.
‘Aye, ¿que es?’ Jak asked, interrupting Steven’s happy thoughts.
Marc. ‘Is that… our furniture?’ 
“Oh my god…” Steven murmurs, slowing his steps. All their things were on the street.
‘She’s leaving us.’
“Oh, will you calm the hell down.” But Steven was a little nervous. He walks up the apartment stairs, ready to find you and get it all sorted out but… you weren’t there. The place looked so bare, so empty… The pictures on the walls were taken down, all the memories together, clothes were half-sorted in the bedroom and sheets off the bed…
You were gone. You didn’t want them anymore.
Marc took the body, pulling out his phone and calling you multiple times, but you went straight to voicemail.
“She’s done with us” Marc groans, backing against the wall. “I knew it was too good to be true.”
‘Mate, you need to calm down’ Steven tried to assure Marc, but he was nervous too.
Marc slid down the wall, beginning to panic. “Not this again…”
Jake and Steven attempted to tell him there’s another reason, logically.
‘She wouldn't just us… leave us’ Jake insisted. ‘She’s not like that. She’d tell us if there was an issue.’
None of this helped calm Marc, and he mentally checked out, sitting against the wall on the floor staring out the window.
That’s how you found Marc, dissociating and mentally checked out when you got home.
“Marcy Marc? Baby? Are you okay?” You toss your keys onto the counter and approach him, but stop when he suddenly jerks towards you like a scared animal.
Marc looks up, eyes wide and mouth agape as he scrambles to stand up. “Holy shit, you’re here…” He mutters, dashing over to you. “Baby, whatever it is, I swear to god I’ll fix it-” Marc hugs you so tightly it knocks the breath out of you with the force of him, strong arms wrapped tightly around you. Normally, you loved his bear hugs, they made you feel safe and oh-so loved, but right now his actions warned you he was upset. You always knew when your man was in distress, even when he tried to hide it. He wasn’t as slick as he thought he was. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry-”
You hug him right back. “Marc, honey, what’s going on? You didn’t do anything wrong.” That you know of, but honestly you couldn’t foresee Marc, Jake or Steven doing anything bad enough for you to be upset about. Only thing would be… Gently, so he knows you aren’t rejecting his affection, you nudge him away so you can look in his eyes. However, you keep hold on his arms. Marc’s love language was physical touch, so you always showed your love to him this way.
“Baby…” You look into his eyes, keeping your tone and facial expressions soft. “Have you heard from Khonshu lately?”
Confusion spreads on Marc’s face, his already large eyes widening. “No! Nonononono is that what this is about? You thought I was with Khonshu again?”
You were confused too. “I didn’t think anything was happening until I came home and you were against the wall. Marc, sweetheart.” You search his face for answers. “Can you just tell me what’s going on? I’m confused.”
He sputters a bit, trying to find the words. “Y-you’re leaving! You’re leaving us…”
You blink at him. “Huh? I’m not leaving you, god Marc, whatever got you this worked up? Sweetie, I’ve never been happier than with you three…”
“The furniture is on the street… Things are packed up… And, and and- the pictures! The pictures, they’re are taken down, our whole life together is off the walls-”
Ah. “Marc…” You realize what happened now. “Oh sweetheart, sweetie pie… I’m not leaving you. I’m doing spring cleaning. Remember, last week we went over what I could give away?”
The recognition slowly starts to spread across his face. “But… the pictures…”
“I took them down to wash the walls.”
“Oh… and the furniture?” It was beginning to click for him. This was all a misunderstanding.
You smile softly. “I found the coolest furniture. Steven will love it.”
He blinked. And again. “So… you don’t hate me?”
Your heart nearly broke at his words. “Oh Marc, no!” You gather him up in your arms again. “My sweet, sweet man I could never!”
You see his lip quiver a bit, but instead of crying Marc crashes his mouth into yours, large hands groping at your body with a fevur, like he couldn't believe you were real, that you were still here, still wanted him.
And he needed you.
“C’mere-” He grunted, gripping your asscheeks and pulling you towards him as he kisses you, mouth claiming yours in desperation.
Instantly you were filled with desire; Marc tended to do that to you. He was so handsome, so kind, so gentle you couldn’t help giving your all to him right away. Marc backed you up against the wall, the hand behind your head preventing you from smacking it against the plaster. He always looked out for you like that. You could feel his hardness as his wide hips ground into you, his plump pressed stomach against yours. You love how he’s softened, still so strong, but the safety of your home and the very idea that he wasn’t on the run and living in storage units… His body felt as safe as his mind did.
Marc’s mouth consumed you, licking into your mouth as his knee rid up between your legs. In loose, thin basketball shorts you felt his thick, manly thighs and sigh and pleasure.
“Marc…” You moan for him, unable to control the sounds of pleasure from escaping your mouth as you work yourself on his body. Hitching a leg up against his side, you cling to Marc for stability as he uses his grip on your ass for leverage, dragging you up and down on him. Marc’s kisses are insatiable, you feel as if he is attempting to breathe you in with heavy pants, kissing your lips and neck. Your face is wet from the open-mouth kisses.
Suddenly, and without warning, just as you are approaching the precipice humping his thigh, Marc pulls away and for a moment you think he got in his own head again, but then you are turned, face pressed against the wall but not painfully. Marc pulls your hips out, bends down to pull down your shorts and fucking picks you up by your pressed together legs to pull the shorts away. If that wasn’t sexy enough, he then kicks apart your ankles forcing your legs open. You aren’t even sure when Marc undid his pants, but before you know it, he is thrusting into your pliant and waiting body.
“M-Marc…” You repeat, his name the only thing on your mind is his name and his cock. Okay and maybe his hand wrapping around your front and snaking up your body. He plays with your grunts, grunting with his breaths hot against your ear and in time to the slamming thrusts of his hips. You brace against the wall, pushing your ass out more to take more of his length inside you.
“Thought I lost you…” He mutters, face tucked into your neck. 
“Never, never Ma- AH!” You cry out when he  squeezes a tit hard, pressing bruises through your shirt. “You-mmmph-you’re stuck with me.”
He pounds your core, rough thrusts mixed with soft kisses. You tilt your head back, desperate for his mouth, his love, his affection yours. He obliges, always knowing what you need and meeting your mouth to sloppily make out with you like horny teenagers. It was needy, it was desperate, it was Marc’s complete and utter relief that he was not going to be left shattered. He filled you over and over and again, the fat tip of his cock pressing up against that beautiful spot inside you. When you came, it was hard, pulsing on his cock again and again and again. Marc wrapped his arm under your middle as your legs began to feel like jell-o. 
“Mine.” He growls, spilling his cum inside you. “Fucking mine. Don’t every fucking scare me like that again.”
You want to tell him you didn’t that he jumped to his own conclusions but you were barely standing when he twirled you around again. Dropping to his knees, Marc looked up at you, large and wet brown eyes gazing at you in adoration. He was beautiful, so fucking beautiful…
“I won’t…” You whisper down to his hopeful face. “I promise. I love you so much.”
With a relieved look on his face, Marc smiles at you and god is it nice to see him smile. “I love you too, baby.” With that, he hitches a leg over his shoulder and dives into your pussy. Between his cum and yours, it’s a mess down there and that’s further evidenced by the absolutely obscene sounds coming from his mouth as he sluuuurped up the evidence of your time together. Marc was eager, eating his own cum out of you while keeping your supported against the wall. You knew he wouldn’t let you fall. His tongue swirled against your clit, making you buck against him so one hand pinned your hips to the wall. He ate like this was his last meal, like his salvation came from your pleasure.
When he sucked on the sensitive nub, you cry out his name and dig your fingers into Marc’s dark curls, keeping him close to you. As if he’d ever leave. You were close again, the whirling swirling feeling deep inside you continuing to build like a twister into a tornado as you chant Marc, Marc, Marc like the repetition of a Rosary. His tongue flicked inside you, one hand keeping you upright against the wall and the other playing with your clit, making you come apart directly into his mouth.
You pull on his hair so hard you worry you’re hurting him but the way Marc shoves his face into you even harder spurs you on. You can hear and feel him moaning into you as he laps up your release, a soft mmmmmm reverbating against your pussy and prolonging it as you ride his face. Your left leg is so tired, so sore, starting to wobble and Marc notices as he finally pulls away. Marc helps you slide down the wall, landing you safely on your bottom.
On his hands and knees, Marc Spector crawls to you, kissing your lips tenderly but you can see his own exhaustion too. Cupping his face in both your hands, you kiss Marc as you lay him down on your naked lap. You’re surprised with how quickly Marc’s full lashes flutter closed, his head resting between the crux of your thigh and stomach.
You play with his hair. He seems so tired, today must’ve taken it out of him. After a whole day of work, coming home to thinking you were gone. You know how anxiety can physically drain you.
“That really scared you, huh?” You say, petting him like a cat. You swear you can hear him pur.
Marc talks soft, sleepy, eyes never opening. “Yeah. Thought I lost you… I can’t do that.”
“I’ll never leave you, sweetie. And I’d certainly never leave like that… But I know how anxiety can be.”
His voice was groggy with sleep, quiet and muttered. “Yeah, it fuck’n sucks.” 
You can’t help but chuckle. “It does, baby, it does. But I’m here, and I ain’t going nowhere. Can’t get rid of me if you tried, Spector.”
He hums constantly, and in another moment, Marc is snoring softly. He’s so cute.
Then, he’s snoring loudly.
Why didn’t Steven and Jake snore? Made no fucking sense.
Sighing, you settle back against the wall and maneuver enough to grab your shorts without waking your sleeping, tuckered out little boyfriend. You pull out your phone, take a few cute pictures (some with flowery or silly snapchat filters) then go play Candy Crush. He needed to rest.
Mostly, because he had a long day and was so so adorable when he was sleeping even if he was loud as all goddamn hell.
But also, you still had several pieces of furniture sitting in your car and there was no way you were going to move all of them yourself.
*************
We love a reader who can take care of an anxious baby <3
Thank you so much for reading!!!! This is my first marc, or any moon knight in a few months. I MISSED HIIIIIIMMMMMMMM
My beloved one <3
MY MOON KNIGHT RETURN IS HERE!!!!!!
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921 notes · View notes
moonstruckme · 10 months ago
Note
Just Remus Lupin who has a crybaby girlfriend that overthinks everything.
Thanks for requesting!
modern au
Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 872 words
You knock on the door, and Remus reminds himself for the third time this week that he really needs to get you a copy of the key. He groans, rolling his neck as he stands from the reading position that had gotten uncomfortable at some point while he wasn’t paying attention, an apology on the tip of his tongue as he opens the door. 
“Sorry, dove, I keep forgetting—hey.” You’re biting down on your bottom lip, face red and eyes glassy. “Sweetheart,” the endearment comes out slow and heavy-hearted, “what’s happened?” 
It’s like you were waiting for permission. You crumple, mouth twisting awfully as a quiet whine tears from the back of your throat. Remus coos, stepping outside to wrap you up in his arms. You’re ready for him, and your arms come around his neck, your sniffles wet and pitiful next to his ear. 
“I thought you were just meeting up with Marcy,” he murmurs, a question embedded in the statement. 
“I was,” you choke out. “She’s mad at me.” 
Remus’ heart contracts painfully. He pets the back of your head. “Come here, love, come inside.” He starts walking backwards in the door, and you follow. “Do you want a cup of tea?” 
“No thank you,” you warble. 
He closes the door behind you, guiding you into a seat at the table. “I’ll make us hot chocolate, then.” 
This is somewhat routine. You’re a sensitive thing, with a delicate spirit. You feel what others feel keenly, and it’s not rare for small things throughout your day to work you into a tizzy for reasons Remus can’t always wrap his head around. A warm drink usually helps. 
“So,” he says cautiously, the gurgling of the kettle cutting through the quiet of his flat, “did you and Marcy have a fight?” 
You shake your head, sniffling. Remus makes a mental note to bring you some tissues. “No, I don’t think so.” Your voice is weak and broken up by little breaths as you try to calm yourself. “She just—” Your lip wobbles, and you bite down on it cruelly. “I could tell she was irritated with me,” you say miserably. 
Remus feels his brow pinch in sympathy. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. What did she say?” 
“It’s not—she wasn’t mean.” You palm some wetness away from your cheeks. “It was just her tone.” 
He hums, mixing the hot chocolate in two mugs. “What was her tone like?” 
You shake your head, more tears slipping past your lashes. “She just seemed so annoyed with me,” you weep, covering your mouth with your hand to muffle the sounds. “I think I talked for too long.” 
“Wait, dove,” Remus tucks a box of tissues under his arm as he brings over the mugs, setting yours in front of you, “you think she was cross with you because you talked too much?” 
You nod heartbrokenly, reaching for the tissues. “I was telling a story, and I could tell by the end that she was getting irritated so I stopped, but then when I asked if she was free to hang out again next week—” you hiccup out a tiny sob “—she just said ‘we’ll see’.” 
“Darling,” there’s a bit of relieved laughter in Remus’ tone, but you look up at him, crestfallen, and he shoves it right back down where it belongs, “I don’t know if she was quite so upset as you think, sweetheart. Maybe she just said that because she wasn’t sure if she’d be free next week.” 
You shake your head, sniffling. “Rem, you weren’t there. She looked so—so done with me.” A fresh wave of tears falls, and Remus decides to take matters into his own hands, leaning across the table to thumb them away. You lean into his touch, love-deprived. “I don’t think she’s going to want to be friends anymore,” you barely murmur. Your tone is heavy with resignation. 
Remus makes a soft, pitying sound. “I’m sure she still wants to be friends,” he says quietly, stroking at your damp cheek. “Even if she was upset, I doubt it’s enough that—”
Your phone chimes, and he goes quiet, both your eyes flying to where it sits face-down on the table. 
“Who is it?” 
You turn it over, an exhale rattling out of you. “It’s Marcy.” 
Remus retracts his hand, picking up his hot chocolate to take a sip. “And what did she say?” he asks, already smug. 
Your face is tensed with anxiety as you open the message, but then it slackens. “She wants…she’s free to meet up again on Tuesday.” 
Remus doesn’t try to suppress his grin. He shakes his head at you, taking a long, satisfied sip of his hot chocolate. “What did I tell you?” 
“I…I’m sorry,” you say slowly, clearly struggling to switch gears. He doesn’t rush you, half enjoying his front-row seat to your realization. “I thought…wow.” You sniffle, looking at Remus through your lashes, sheepish. “I’m sorry I came home and ugly cried to you. I thought she was really upset.” 
He chuckles, reaching across the table to thumb a residual tear from your jaw. “That’s alright, dove. And you don’t ugly cry.” He chucks you gently under the chin. “You could never be capable of ugliness.” 
763 notes · View notes
ghoststyles · 5 months ago
Text
Missed Connections
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Harry X YN WC: 6K
No smut in this one. Didn't feel right! Hopefully you like this as much as I do :)
______________________________________________________________
New York City, 1998
This dive bar is abysmal. 
Your Coach shoulder bag is sticking to the bar top while a ZZ Top-esque biker gang member chain smokes in the corner, blowing the smoke straight into your face, as One Headlight by the Wallflowers plays at a volume far too loud for your liking. 
The bartender places a poorly laminated menu, riddled with ring stains from the thousands of beers and simple cocktails poured over them. You’d be shocked if the vinyl seats don’t carry some sort of venereal disease, making you pull your jean skirt down, minimizing the direct contact with your skin. 
It’s a Thursday, your long days in the office, and the start of your best friend, Marcie’s, bachelorette party weekend. When did bachelorette parties turn into a weekend affair, anyway?
You suppose it’s because you’re the only single girl in the group; the only one to actually leave your suburban, central New Jersey upbringing to attend college and build a career in New York City. 
This is how you found yourself hosting 4 girls in your 550 square foot apartment for 3 days. Chickie’s the one with the fabulous life in Manhattan, why don’t we visit her! And who are you to say no? If it weren’t for her sister, you’d be Marcie’s Maid of Honor, so an unmitigated amount of guilt fell on your shoulders as the long distance bridesmaid. 
“Smile, Chickie, you look miserable. That’s not gonna get you a boyfriend any time soon,” Jenny teases you as she sits on the stool between you and the biker, her nose crinkling as she smells the vapor of the Marlboro reds. 
Jenny is the powerhouse of the group; the loud mouthed, opinionated friend who takes pleasure in picking on the other girls. You never pay her any mind. You thought for sure she’d eventually phase out after high school, but here she is nagging you, as usual. Even worse, she used your childhood nickname.
“I’m good, Jen. It’s not looking like my husband is going to walk through the door, anyway,” you laugh exasperatedly, looking around at the empty bar room illuminated by red lights and tons of novelty beer branded mirrors. The biker man leans back on his stool, furrowing his brows at you.
Jen laughs, lighting up her own cigarette and taking a long inhale. “You know, Andrew and I can set you up with any of his colleagues. Most of them are divorced once or twice, but, still good looking.”
Your lips purse out in preparation of a smart comeback, but your eyes divert to the door, where a group of late twenty and thirty something men walk through the door, taking seats at the corner of the bar. They huddle around one another, blocking your view of their faces. 
By this point, your girlfriends have changed the music and begin to dance on the tiny checkerboard dance floor, garnering the looks of everyone in the crowded space. Marcie is sloshing her drink around, the miniature veil in her hair slipping down as she moves. 
The biker man, your only ally for the evening, is now on a stool by the dartboard, dozing off as he nurses his umpteenth Budweiser. The bartender has refilled your gin & tonic a few times already, to which you place a few bills in his jar to your left. 
Marcie and Grace are now twirling around to You’re Still the One by Shania Twain, narrowly bumping into the group of men who walked in earlier. Marcie’s veil is barely grappling onto the top of her head, sending the two into a laughing fit.
You smile gently, still feeling the wave of exhaustion from your day in the office. In your own little bubble, your pocket of peace is disturbed when the stool next to you scrapes across the cement floors, sending an unstoppable shiver up your spine. 
“I’ll have a Budweiser, and whatever she’s having,” the new character quietly says to the bartender. Your head whips around to the gentle, but domineering tone, to find he’s not even looking at you. He fishes a twenty dollar bill from his wallet, sliding it in the direction of the barman. His brown, curly hair is unkempt, slightly hanging in his eyes as he looks down at you. 
“Thanks, but I can take care of it myself,” you brush him off, immediately turned off by the lack of eye contact.
“You’re the only one in here matching my energy tonight,” he chuckles, before turning his head to the biker in the corner. “Well, except for that guy.”
“I’m sure he’d love a drink,” you smirk, thumb picking at the laminated drink menu in front of you.
The stranger takes a swig of his beer, before placing it gently on the coaster. He finally turns to look at you, and you have to stop yourself from gawking. His striking eyes and perfectly chiseled jaw is the first thing to stand out. Looking down, his sleeves are rolled up to reveal a few sparse tattoos around his wrist and forearm.
“You’re the most miserable bridesmaid, and I’m the most miserable Best Man.”
You scoff, taking a sip of your cocktail before meeting his eyes over the rim of your glass. You place the cup down, jiggling the ice with it. 
“Bold of you to make any assumptions about me. I’m just here minding my own business.”
He purses his lips, now fully turning to face you on the stool next to him. “I’ve been here 30 minutes. You’ve only given blank stares to everyone in here, and exchanged glances with the motorcycle guy over there in whatever morse code you two have developed.”
About ready to hop off the stool and storm out, you’re intrigued at the next sentence out of his mouth. 
“I’m serious. We might as well get through this night together," he leans on the bar top, fist now supporting his chin. "How about we play 20 questions while your girls take shots and my boys stand there awkwardly watching.”
You scoff indignantly, unbelieving whether or not this twenty-something (thirty something?) man really wants to play 20 questions in the middle of a dive bar on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Laughing to yourself, you turn to face him.
“I’ll go first. Break the ice a little,” he licks his lips, placing his bottle down on the disintegrating coaster on the worn bar top. “Most traumatic childhood memory?”
As the question pours out of his mouth, you take a sip of your watery G&T, eyes bulging at the blatant bold question. 
“That—That, is what you start with? What about the name of my first pet? Name of my elementary school?”
“Who am I, your bank?” 
A smile finally— finally, makes its way to your lips. The tattooed stranger you met 35 minutes ago doesn’t seem so scary anymore.
From the dance floor, Marcie shoots you a knowing smile before pursing her lips and gyrating, taunting you, since you’re the notoriously modest friend.
You roll your eyes before meeting his — Blue? Green? You can’t really tell in the dim lighting. The Rolling Rocks neon sign is casting a hue over the left side of his face, a smile makes its way onto his face while he awaits your answer.
“My mom left me at a Walmart and didn’t realize for about thirty minutes. I stood with the old man who greets everyone at the door until she came back. Then he bought me a bouncy ball out of the machine in the vestibule so I’d stop hyperventilating.”
He sucks his lip in, clearly trying to stifle a laugh. Hesitating, he speaks again. Reaching for your hands folded neatly in your lap, he places his grotesquely large ones over them, staring into your eyes earnestly. 
“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” his voice dripping with sarcasm and mirth. 
Balling up your fists, you shake his hands off of yours. “You asked! I was only 7. It took me months to go back to Walmart, let alone look that poor 75-year old greeter in the eye.” 
He chuckles, taking another swig of his beer. “Okay, next question—” he starts, before you interrupt.
“Wait, I don’t get to ask a question?”
He hums, pretending to ponder it. 
“Mmmm, nope. I got some good ones,” he replies, gently tapping his temple with his middle finger. He sighs, taking another drink of his beer.
“Is the hokey pokey really what it’s all about?” He slightly tilts his head in your direction, shrugging. 
You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry. What higher power above sent this creature over to talk to you? Your lip juts out into a pout as your eye contact cuts over to your safe haven — biker man. He seems to have more to worry about, like not falling asleep in the bar. 
Recognizing the shock that washes over your face, the man recoups, “Shit, I know — I know, that was so bad.”
It’s the gin. The giggles pour out of you, sending a sharp pain to your stomach. You grab his bicep so you don’t fall off the stool, squeezing the solid muscle there. He snorts, tilting his head back. Your kitten heels scrape the metal bar at the foot of the counter, barely giving you anything to grip on to.
“I’m gonna pee my pants,” tears are fully flowing from your eyes at this point. “I can’t, I can’t.” 
The man cackles, placing a hand on your lower back. Now, your group of girls gravitate to your corner of the bar, bumping into one another and spilling their cosmos. His boys have now gained their liquid courage to morph the two groups together. You’re the only single one, but you won’t ruin anyone’s fun.
“And I don’t wanna miss a thing! Even when I dream of you…” Marcie belts out Aerosmith into her pretend microphone. “The sweetest dream will never do, cause I miss you, babe, and I don’t wanna miss a thing!”
In that moment, Christina strides over to the two of you with her disposable camera, ushering you to get in frame with him. He smiles down at you — how tall is this guy? Even sitting down he has at least a foot on you. You smile gently, leaning into him as the disposable’s flash goes off.
“So cute!”
You break the tension by latching onto his built body. He’s standing now, making sure not to block you from view of your friends. With just a few minutes from midnight, you finally feel loose and that you could actually have a good time with this guy. His hand hasn’t left your lower back, so he presses you into him before staring down at you. 
“Chickie! Come to the bathroom with me,” Grace slurs, grabbing your hand. “It’s upstairs and I don’t think my legs will carry me.”
You inhale through your nose, trying to find a moment of patience for your friend and her unpleasant interruption to the moment you’re sharing with this stranger. You glance up at him, unsure if you should go. The comfort his large frame is intoxicating on its own. 
“It’s okay, Chickie. I’ll be here,” he gently touches your lower back. 
You nod, smiling up at him gently, allowing Grace to pull you toward the small staircase leading to the bathrooms. The walls of the corridor are riddled with graffiti, old dollar bills and questionable amounts of gum.
Grace pulls you past and inconspicuous second bar (what kind of dive bar has a second floor? Who do they think they are, Le Cirque?) and through the crowd to the bathroom. 
The alcohol never feels like it hits until you come face to face with yourself in the dingy bathroom mirror. Despite your long history with drinking, (hellloooo football games in 10th grade drinking Burnett’s from the bottle) every heavy drinking night feels like the first time. You wait for Grace to finish up before hovering yourself over the toilet, unwilling to touch skin to porcelain. 
You both wash up, taking a moment to sniff each other’s pits, fluff each other’s hair and dab a damp paper towel on the backs of your necks to cool you off.
The burst of hot air upon opening the bathroom door is enough to knock you out, but, nevertheless, the two of you persist through the throng of bodies that appeared out of nowhere. You’re the blind leading the blind at this point, but you drag Grace’s half-limp body to the top of the steps, peering out over the crowd in hopes of spotting your guy.
You trudge down the stairs, the pounding of the wood reverberating straight to your brain, heartbeat picking up when you don’t spot him towering over the group anymore. You situate Grace on a stool next to biker man, silently nodding at him to watch over your friend before finding Jen, Christina and Marcie. 
“Jen, where did that group of guys go?” You tried to keep cool, not wanting to fall victim to her taunting, even if she’s inebriated. 
“Mmmm, who? OH! The bachelor party. They left.”
Your heart drops, cursing yourself for letting your guard down. Of course it was only a love connection on your end. As a last ditch effort, you look over the crowd, only to find biker man exiting the bar into the night.
“O-oh, um, did the — did the taller guy say anything before they went?”
“No, the groom was pretty fucked up. They basically carried him out. Sorry, Chickie.” 
Marcie suddenly bursts between the two of them, placing her arms around their shoulders.
“I’m ready for some McDonald’s!”
~
Why the fuck are you at the internet cafe? 
It’s 1:30 PM on a Wednesday, and your boss thinks you’re on a lunch break. After being talked off the ledge by your girlfriends while flipping through the Sunday Times after draining a bottle of cabernet, you decided to take matters into your own hands. 
Your mystery man from the bar hasn’t left your mind all week. Replaying the initial interaction — a bit cold, on both of your parts. But, the way he so easily opened you up and turned your night around kept you hooked. 
In a city of 7 million, the odds of finding him again were slim to none, so you assessed your options:
Going back to Mick’s.
Recruiting biker man to scour the city with you Ghostbusters style. He gave you his business card for exactly that purpose. 
Or writing a missed connections ad on Craigslist.
So, here you are, sat between a high schooler instant messaging on AOL and an old man using Ask Jeeves to diagnose a very personal medical issue. Taking a deep breath, you start the ad.
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Every stroke of the keyboard was painful. This is so insanely out of your comfort zone, but the longing in your chest is too strong to ignore. The ad is the perfect mixture of nondescript and casual, but gives enough context that even if he were as dense as his friend group, he’d know it was him. 
Pressing post, you immediately exit the window, paying your $0.75 for internet time and a print out and fly out the door, a bell jingling in the path of your haste. You shove the ad in in the book in your purse and stomp down the street. The old man makes eye contact with you through the window, snarling a bit at your startling movement. It makes you want to yell at him through the window to go see a fucking doctor!
The heels you have on were not made for walking; exactly the opposite of what that insufferable Carrie Bradshaw promotes on that new show. It’ll be off the air soon enough. Reluctantly, you call a cab and head back to the office in hopes of taking your mind off the possibilities — a happy ending, or heartbreak.
~
The nervous tapping of your foot echos across the marble floor of Effie’s Café. Arriving 20 minutes early, you rotated back and forth between the wicker chairs at this clearly 4 person table. Should you face the door? He’ll see you in the daylight and make a run for it. How about your back to the door? No, he could actually be a murderer and attack you from behind. From the side? No, these are standing jeans only. 
Sigh. You decide to push your anxieties aside and order a glass of white wine, sitting with your back to the door to play up the mystery a bit more. One glass turns into two, and now you’re slightly sloshed for a Thursday at lunch time, hoping and praying you unlock the sweet, cool-girl personality you left him a taste of. 
The café starts to pick up for the lunch rush, so you don’t immediately recognize the familiar deep voice of someone is trying to get your attention from behind you. 
“Ladybug, is that you?”
Ladybug?
Slowly shifting your head to look over your right shoulder, your heart flutters at the tattooed forearm attached to the hand gripping the back of your chair. Only this time, the arm is attached to a tall, clean-shaven, blonde man. 
You look up, making contact with his blue eyes. Now you’re certain that mystery man had green eyes. The man in front of you smiles down at you as he pulls his chair out to sit. It’s like he’s not even recognizing everything wrong about this situation. 
He’s the wrong guy. You’re the wrong girl. Ladybug is the wrong nickname. 
“Um, hi. I’m no—
“It’s nice to meet you, officially. I’m Garrett,” he extends his hand to shake yours. You stare at it, dumbfounded and scheming your next move. 
“I think there may be a misunderstanding. I was trying to contact someone —.” 
“No misunderstanding. You sounded like a sweet girl in the ad. I’m just lucky my impression matches you physically. You’re stunning” 
No. Nope. Absolutely not. It’s not an honest mistake. He didn’t happen to speak to a girl in a dive bar with a silly nickname and tell stupid jokes just to get them to smile. This is the epitome of all of the warnings your parents gave you on computer safety. Sucking in a sharp breath, you locate the nearest exit, and look around in the most subtle way possible to flag down an employee. 
“So, tell me about yourself. What do you do for work?”
“I think I need to leave, this was a mistake —.”
“Mm, I don’t think so,” Garrett fakes interest in your unsettled body language. “You asked for this.”
You finally spot your server, grabbing crumpled bills from your purse to give to her on your way out. Garrett grabs your wrist firmly, preventing you from reaching your wallet. “I’d like to get to know you. We just got here.”
Panic. A feeling you’ve felt everyday since you could remember. Whether it’s being forgotten at a superstore, or sending an incorrect document, destroying the contract for your largest client, panic claws its way out of your central nervous system at any opportunity. 
You look down at your shaking hands, trying to conjure up a plan. Do you run? Scream? Throw your wine at him as a distraction? This man, while he hasn’t intimidated you physically, he’s loud and clear with his intentions. 
“Hi! Welcome to Effie’s. I’m Alannah. Can I start you off with any drinks?”
Garrett smiles up at the young girl sweetly, opening his mouth to speak. You decide to play it cool for another few minutes to minimize the risk of retaliation.
“I’ll have an iced coffee — black. and the lady will have a green tea with lemon.”
You scowl, as if you’re more concerned about what he ordered for you than the fact that you feel threatened by his presence all together. Luckily, you still had your glass of wine from when you thought you would find mystery man. 
“Great, I’ll be right back. Let me know if you have any questions about the menu,” Alannah smiles at both of you before spinning on her heel, ponytail flinging over her shoulder. 
Your jaw is tight, unwilling to make eye contact with your dining partner. Your heartbeat has steadies out tremendously as more people filter into the café. Remaining casual, you begin to unroll the silverware placed neatly on the teal plate. You place the napkin on your lap, lining up the two forks and knife on the table. 
Garrett has been talking this entire time, unbeknownst to you as you gather the courage to carry out your plan. You smile tightly, nodding to give some semblance that everything this okay. Glancing at your fork, you lock your eyes on his left hand sitting limply on the table, moving every so often as he drones on. 
You send him one last sickeningly sweet smile before grabbing the fork nonchalantly. Twisting it around in your fingers, you inhale deeply and swiftly sink the salad fork into the flesh of his hand and shoot out of your chair, purse in hand. The chair scoots across the floor and ultimately tumbles to the side of you bringing on some stares from other diners. Alannah screams, dropping the drinks and covering her mouth, staring at the fork sticking out of his forehand. Adrenaline pumping through your blood stream, you waste no time taking your platform sandals off and making a run for it. Disgusting New York City streets be damned.
Garrett is red in the face, gritting his teeth as he screams after you, a death grip on his now injured hand. Diners and workers of the café gather around him, giving you an extra few seconds to escape. 
Flying down 96th street, you expertly weave through the Upper West Side lunch crowd, feeling every wad of gum and broken beer bottle under your feet. Eventually, as your adrenaline-induced track meet is quickly dying out, so you stop on the corner between the flower shop and laundromat. 
The street looks familiar. The bodega with the yellow awning illuminated by the red ‘Bar’ sign to its right.  The sounds of the city are drowned out by your heavy breathing, but you’re certain your heart stops beating for a moment.
Mick’s Bar.
Look at it this way — a full circle moment. You can wash away the utter shit show of a day and raise one last glass to close the chapter of pining over the mystery man. Somber mood and slightly sweating, you bow your head and head down the clump of 3 steps to the street-level establishment. 
The smell of stale beer and popcorn infiltrate your senses, sending you straight back to that night. Retracing your steps to the end stool, you sigh, pulling it toward you with your still bare feet. You’ll find a way to soak them in acid later.
The same bartender acknowledges you, most likely not even remembering your previous interactions. You're glad he doesn’t think you’re some pathetic woman trying to chase after a man. You are, but he doesn’t need to know that. 
The barman places a coaster in front of you, silently waiting for your order. 
“Gin and tonic, please. A double. With lime.” 
He nods, ducking down to tend to his well, filling up a pint glass with ice and heavy-pouring the gin. You sigh again, gently grabbing the back of your neck and rubbing the muscle, willing away the inevitable tension headache coming later. 
There aren’t many people in here; Just a few couriers and other non-office workers. You’re slightly envious of them being able to spend their days outside of a beige and cold office building. Quiet chatter amongst them stops when the bell chimes above the door. 
Like straight out of a movie, Biker man stumbles through the door, his leather vest swiping the handle of the door. The bartender snickers and shakes his head as he pushes your drink towards you, indicating he wants your credit card. You nod, handing over your MasterCard, expecting no other interactions in return. 
He looks at Biker man. Then you. Then back to Biker man, nodding his head knowingly. You’re not sure what this means, but you're trying to erase the last 2 hours from your memory.
Biker man’s thick, heavy boots thunder across the wood plank floors, sending the rickety stools into a rattling chorus of squeaks. He coughs up what sounds like a lung and waits for his beer, not even acknowledging the bartender. He’s now a stool over from you, staring at the screen portraying some sort of horse race. 
Taking one long gulp of your drink, you turn to face him, the liquid courage hitting you immediately. 
“Sir? Hi, I’m so sorry to interrupt. I’m not sure if you remember me—” you trail off when he doesn’t even face you, his salt and pepper beard making it hard to read his face.
Waving slightly, you confirm you’re in fact talking to him, so now his bloodshot eyes make contact with yours over the frame of his sunglasses. 
“I, um, I was here with a few of my girlfriends, um, the other night. A-and I met a man—”
“Tall fella? Came in with a group of guys and they drug one out of here like a corpse?”
“Yes! Yes, oh my goodness, I can’t believe you remember.”
“My bar sweetie, I need to remember who comes in.”
“You’re Mick?” you choke out in disbelief. You want to laugh, because the imaginary life you made up for biker man did not live up to reality.
For your whole life, you tended to grasp onto little moments with strangers that others wouldn’t think twice about.
You still remember the Walmart greeter that waited with you until your mom came back to get you. You remember your sixth grade bus driver who pulled you aside to give you a pep talk when the older girls picked on you. You remember the woman next to you on a plane who held your hand during turbulence. You grow attached, dreaming up scenarios that are probably so far from the truth. It's harmless fun for you.
It’s why you’re clinging onto your mystery man. There are alarm bells going off in your brain you've never felt before, refusing to let it be a fleeting moment. 
“I’ve owned this place for 35 years. Seen everything you can imagine happen here. Celebrations of life, death, marriage. Lots of heartbreak.”
You’re not sure if you’re too tipsy, but his words make you want to cry. What is he trying to say?
“Teddy, two rounds here, please,” Mick signals the barman who promptly whips up four… lemon drop shots? Biker man — Mick— didn’t strike you as the type to take shots like a sorority girl.
He shrugs, pushing two shots over to you. You clink your tiny shot glasses together, tossing your head back and licking the sugar on the rim. 
Both of you push your glasses toward Teddy and reach for the second, as the bell jingles above the door. With the bar being street level, the sun reflects off the cars outside, slightly blinding you as someone walks in, footsteps thumping.
You and Mick continue on, throwing back your next shot. You wince, this one slightly more lemony than the previous. Mick exhales loudly, shaking his head.
“Careful, Chickie. It’s too early to be having this much fun.”
You freeze, unwilling to believe this is happening. It has to be an alcohol induced hallucination.
“Uhm, ah, hi,” you stutter, looking between the three men staring at you. You feel like you’re on an episode of Maury. 
“Sweetheart, he’s been in here every day at the same time to ask Teddy if you’ve stopped in to try and find him, too. The shots were just to ease your anxiety since I knew he’d be in on his lunch hour.”
Due to a short circuit in your brain, you can’t decide who you’re more mad at — Mick, or Teddy. They could’ve told you mystery man has been searching for you, too.
The mystery man blushes, sticking his hands in the pockets of his pleated khakis, staring down at his worn Dockers loafers. His striped rugby shirt reminds you of Steve from Blue’s Clues, but you're willing to over look that.
“We’ll leave you to it,” Teddy smiles gently, ushering Mick to the office. 
The man sits on the stool previously occupied by Mick, and as he sits, he uses his ankle to pull your stool closer to him.
“I’m Harry. Nice to officially meet you,” he smiles, making two dimples you didn’t previously notice appear. 
“Chick—Y/N. I’m Y/N,” you giddily grab his massive hand, shaking it gently.
He sighs, taking a swig of his Budweiser, “So, let’s get this out in the open. How pathetic am I for coming back here every day for a week straight to ask about you?” 
Cackling softly, you shake your head, ducking down to retrieve your bag from the hook under the bar. You pull out your copy of A Beautiful Mind, pulling the slip of paper out from the slightly worn pages. 
“Not as pathetic as this,” You hand it to him, waiting for him to open it. “You ever read the Missed Connections ads on Craigslist?”
Harry smiles, reading the ad. He’s glad you remember the small details of that night like he does. He’s not making it up in his head. 
“I don’t have a computer. But, they usually print these in the Times on Sundays. I would’ve seen it, but about a week late,” he giggles, his green eyes meeting yours when he looks up. 
“Well, I’m glad this nightmare has a happy ending. I went to the café, and a random man showed up pretending he was you! I ran out of there so fast. I’m scared to think about what would’ve happened if I stayed.”
Harry grabs your lower back, the light touch comforting you as you recount the horrors.
“Chickie, I’m so sorry that happened. The internet is scary. I’m honestly terrified of what it’ll be like in 30 years.”
“And to make it worse, he called me Ladybug. Ladybug! I’m clearly a Chickie,” you giggle. “I’ve been dying to hear another one of your terrible jokes.”
Instead of opening his mouth, he leans in to place a chaste kiss on your dried lips. 
The alcohol is hitting you much harder than it should be, so you kiss back, forgetting about the entire audience in the bar. You can’t even begin to care that you’ll be two hours late returning to work, drunk as a skunk.
You’ll blame it on fate.
~ New York City, 2000
“I wish I could travel back in time to prevent us from signing a lease on a 5th floor walk-up,” you sigh, plopping down with your boyfriend on the red bean bag he got from Sears. He’s out of breath, having just carried up 3 boxes while you followed behind him clutching lamps, hangers and basically anything you could get your small hands on.
Harry kisses your slightly sweaty hair, petting any of the strays out of your eyes.
“You’ll have a really toned butt by Christmas. Not a bad investment on my end,” Harry laughs as he dodges your sharp elbow digging into his side.
“I can’t even fathom getting groceries and making dinner. Okay if we order in?”
“You don’t want to meet our new bodega guy?”
“He’ll see me at my worst soon enough. Let’s leave him wondering a little longer. I do love a bacon, egg and cheese on a bagel when I’m hungover,” you giggle, inhaling Harry’s natural scent. If you weren’t so exhausted, you’d hop into bed (your bare mattress on the floor of your 800 square foot apartment) right now. 
“Sure, baby. We can order in,” he pats your thigh, signaling you to let him stand up. He stretches, examining the room.
His heart swells at the perfect mix of the two of of you in your first apartment together. Your excessive shoe collection. His beloved Gibson guitar that he serenaded you with your favorite song on one of your early dates. He sang Lady by the Styx, not realizing you meant Lady by the Commodores. But, you didn’t have the heart to tell him until your first anniversary. 
Now you’re here, two years later and stronger than ever. He spots a film strip hanging on the fridge from Marcie’s wedding. You hogged the booth for well over 15 minutes, kissing, touching, exploring.
You begged for a plus one at the last second, forcing her to tell her uncle he can’t bring a date. Neither of you feel bad. Next to that film strip is the photo Christina took of the two of you the night you met, held up by a Mick's Bar magnet. She didn't get the film developed until weeks after the bachelorette.
The photo would've helped your search efforts!
The empty walls are begging to be filled with canvases, knick knacks and music posters. You learned Harry works at a music recording studio as a fill-in guitarist and a part-time artist. His art style itches something in your brain you can’t describe — falling in love with every piece he comes home with. 
The boxes will consume you for a few weeks, but he’s excited to be taking this next step with you. 
Harry tosses the Sunday Times at you, “Why don’t you read me the missed connections from this week while I put some stuff away. You did a lot to organize the closet this morning, so I don’t want you to move for the rest of the night.”
Harry putters with the dishes, praying they’re clean enough to go in the cupboard. He's haphazardly putting things away, trying to calm his nerves.
“Ooh, yes. I missed last week,” you flip to the section, adjusting the paper in your hands so you can see better. Clearing your throat, you read aloud.
“I was reading a book on the Q train, you were the cute woman sitting next to whom I assume was your mom, but you get kept sending glances my way when she wasn’t looking. I get it, no matter what your age, it’s weird to flirt with your mom next to you. I got off at Atlantic and you shot me a smile. Dunno why I’m even posting here lol almost zero chance of you seeing this. Oh well, gotta try at least.”
Harry smiles, glancing at you as you peruse the page. He can’t pretend to be busy for much longer. You giggle before starting the next one.
“Did you lose an entire ham? It's a bone-in ham, not sure it's obvious from the photo. It's been eaten on some parts, but there's definitely some serious meat left on it. Looks like it was pretty tasty in its day.”
He laughs, his leg anxiously bouncing against the lower cabinet. He leans on the counter for support, gently swiping over his sweat pant pocket. Closing his eyes, he waits.
Scanning the page, you gasp.
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You drop the paper in your lap, watching your boyfriend leave your tiny kitchen with the black and white checker floor tile to kneel in front of you on your ratty bean bag chair. Your hands cover your mouth as some tears threaten to spill over your eyes. It’s like everything is in slow motion. 
Harry’s tearing up, too, as he pulls a velvet box from his pocket, opening it slowly to reveal an emerald cut diamond ring on a simple gold band. Elegant and timeless, like you.
He swallows thickly, finding the courage to speak.
“I could’ve gone on and on in the ad, but I figured I’d save it for now,” he laughs nervously. You still have your hands in front of your face, scared to move them in case this is a dream.
“Since the night we met, I knew we were meant for each other. I haven’t had many moments in life where I’ve made the right decision, but I can say with my whole heart that I love you and want you to be my wife.”
You sob slightly, still donning a wide grin. You let him finish.
“I would’ve married you the day we found each other again at Mick’s. But, I didn’t want to scare you,” he laughs again, a small tear escaping.
“Chickie, will you marry me?”
“Oh, Harry,” you blubber, jumping to your knees to wrap your arms around his neck. “Of course! Yes, yes, please.”
Pushing him to the ground, you lay across him, peppering kisses on his face and neck.
When you’ve both calmed down, you’re laying in between his legs, leaned back against the bean bag, basking in the moment. You haven’t even called any friends or family, yet. There’s an uncorked bottle of wine on the floor that you’ve been taking swigs of, absolutely over the moon and tipsy.
"Why did you let me read the one about a ham before asking me the most important question of your life?"
He kisses you to shut you up. You sigh contently, thinking about your future.
After some silence, Harry quietly asks, “Do you think we can force Mick to become an ordained minister?”
You cackle, turning your head to look back at him.
“That was the first thing that came to my mind.”
________________
EEEEEE! I HOPE YOU LIKED IT :))))))) IT WAS SO FUN TO WRITE ABOUT OLD REFERENCES EVEN THO I WAS A BB DURING THAT TIME
Pls let me know what you think <3
ALSO BIKER MAN IS THE REAL MVP I WAS SO HYPE TO KEEP REFERENCING HIM LOL
215 notes · View notes
kotoku · 4 months ago
Note
Request for hurt/comfort with the reader comforting Laios. Like maybe someone said something rude to his face, or he's having doubts about saving Falin, or he's just having a moment of feeling extra self-conscious. I just need to HUG THAT MAN
laios x reader - what are friends for
synopsis - laios is having some doubts, but you’re there to support him. after all, what are friends for, dear reader?
pairings - laios touden x reader
warnings - unintentionally left the ending with a little angst.. sorry reader, but it seems you are stuck in the friend zone for now…
word count - 1.2k 
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“Laios! I told you that you can’t be embarrassed about these things!”
Marcille scolded the blond tall-man, pointing a stern finger at him with her other hand on her hip.
She was in the process of having Laios execute his healing knowledge. After testing it out on both her and Senshi, she directed him towards you who had a nasty cut on your stomach. Yet before he could chant the incantation, the embarrassment he felt quickly caught up to him and he choked on his words.
“If you say it wrong, who knows what could happen! Try again, and this time, don’t be ashamed because it’s just _____!” She huffed, turning towards the door with Senshi and Chilchuck.
“We’re gonna go see the dungeon rearrange itself, have fun _____!” Chilchuck snickered, shutting the door with a ‘thunk!’. 
Rolling your eyes at his teasing, you refocused your gaze back to Laios whose hands hovered over your stomach. You could tell he was nervous by the slight twitching his hand would do every couple of seconds.
“..You don’t have to heal me if you don’t want to, I can have Marci—“ “No! I can’t just throw away this opportunity, it’ll be a waste! I can do this.”
‘That’s right, I can do this. IcandothisIcandothisIcan—‘ Laois took in a deep inhale before exhaling, readying himself for his second attempt.
Your brows rose in amusement, a smile playing on your lips. “Alright, show me what you’ve got.” Resting your head against the cushion beneath you, you patiently waited for Laios to start.
You heard his breathing even out, falling in rhythm with yours as he started to chant. 
“YAOIWWW!!” 
Startled, Laios jumped back, a look of surprise and fear on his face. You, on the other hand, had leaped into a seated position, arms clutching over the injured area. Despite it being healed, that didn’t account for the tremendous amount of pain and itchiness you felt afterward. 
“_____! Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?” Laios rushed to your side, hands frantically waving around in the air as he didn’t know what to do.
“I-I’m fine, just a bit itchy is all…” You grunted, the pain subsiding but the itchiness remaining. You moved to scratch the area before Laios stopped you, his hand gently holding your wrist.
“Marcille said that you should avoid scratching it…” He mumbled, still concerned about your well-being.
“Ah.. ok.” You hummed, retracting your hand even though you so badly wanted to scratch the scar that was left behind. Moving to unwrap the bandage that was around your abdomen, Laios turned away, eyes avoiding you. 
“I-I’ll just look over here…” 
“It’s just my abdomen, Laios. You’re acting like a Victorian man who just saw a lady’s ankle for the first time.” You laughed, bundling the bandage and tucking it away. Slipping on your top, Laios turned back to look at you with a pink flush on his cheeks.
“I’m so not!” 
“You so are.” 
“Am not!”
“Mhm, whatever you say.” With a smug grin, you leaned your head against the wall, listening as the dungeon continued repairing and rearranging itself.
There was a brief silence before Laios keeled over, clutching his stomach in pain as he lay on his side on the floor. 
“L-Laios!? Are you alright?!” You panicked, scurrying over to him. 
“I’m fine.. it’s just that I’m seeing all kinds of colors and shapes… What’s happening to me..?” He groaned, sweat dotting his brow. 
“Oh.. you have mana sickness. You used too much and now—“ you gestured at his state, “—this happened.”
“End me now…”
Huffing a breath, you adjusted him so that he was sitting up. “Don’t be silly, you’ll be fine. You just need to eat something.” Digging through your bag, you found a snack Senshi had packed for you the other day. “Here, eat this.”
Laios sluggishly grabbed the snack from your hand, immediately chewing on it as he leaned against the wall. “Thanks, _____. I’m starting to feel a little bit better already.” “I should be thanking you for healing me.” 
The brief silence from before enveloped the two of you once more, the sound of Laios chewing away at the snack being an exception. You were lost in your own thoughts before Laios sighed, your eyes darting to his slouched form.
“Hey.. _____?” 
“Yes?”
“…Do you think.. we’ll be able to defeat the Mad Mage and turn Falin back..?”
You paused, watching as Laios held his knees close to his chest, his head resting on them. For the first time throughout this entire journey of rescuing Falin, Laios had seemed so small, fragile. You felt your stomach drop, both hesitation and fear gripping onto you with its ugly hands as you tried to speak. Laios was your party leader, if he felt this way then… You shook your head. No, no matter what, you were all going to get his sister back, even if it meant eating monsters, getting your ass beat, or staking your life. Having said that, you knew what you needed to tell him. What he needed to hear. 
“Laios.” You finally spoke after a long drawn silence. His head didn’t move from his spot, eyes glued to the ground. You breathed in a deep inhale before exhaling. “..The path that lies ahead of us is a difficult one, and I can’t say for certain what will happen. None of us can.” His shoulders drooped. “But what I can say for certain, is that no matter what we face, we’ll try our damn hardest to get there.” 
You gave him a determined smile, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “After all, we still need to eat dinner with Falin— and introduce her to Senshi’s cooking again.” Laios smiled at your words, his spirit slowly regaining its flame. 
“You’re right.. thank you, _____.”
“No problem, Laios.” Realizing that you still had your hand placed on his shoulder, you quickly retracted it with flushed cheeks. He was looking at you with such soft and gentle eyes that you couldn’t help but feel warm inside. Then again, whenever you were with Laios, you always felt a little warm or fuzzy. Something about him just made you feel so nervous and vulnerable— as much as you tried denying your feelings for him you knew for a fact that you were falling in deep for your party leader.
As you were trying to regain your composure, you suddenly felt a warmth enveloping you, blond hair tickling your cheek. Strong yet soft arms circled around your shoulders and you felt your efforts go to waste. Laios, the man you had a crush on, was hugging you so tenderly it felt intimate— like a lover’s embrace. You felt the heat rise up to your eyes.
“L-Laios..?”
“I’m so grateful to have you. Thank you for comforting me,” he murmured, hugging you tighter. You slowly reciprocated the hug, closing your eyes as you rested your head on his bicep. 
“Of course,” You hummed, “What are friends for…”
168 notes · View notes
amberlynnmurdock · 11 months ago
Text
Neighbor Pt. 4 - Christmas Edition
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Matt Murdock x Reader
Summary: Matt Murdock dreaded Christmas until she gave him a new meaning to it.
Words: about 2.3k
Genres: FLUFF, light angst
A/N: Merry Christmas Eve!!! <3
Part 3
The holidays were finally here, and Matt Murdock was dreading them.
He used to love Christmas. Before his accident, he remembered waking up at three in the morning to the sound of his father wrapping gifts under the tree on Christmas Eve. Yeah, his father had a match on Christmas Eve one year, and Matt was disappointed when he told him he had to stay home. He watched the match on their old TV, lights on the Christmas tree twinkling behind him, blood splattering on the camera as Battlin’ Jack Murdock knocked out his foe. Matt sauntered off to bed after that, passing the tree with missing presents, not giving a damn because the greatest gift he could have was watching his father win on TV. But Matt remembers that crinkling noise of tape on wrapping paper and the growing excitement in his chest that his father did get him a present. 
After the accident, and after his father was murdered, Christmas started to feel less warm and more of a thing to get by. The only time he ever felt anything close to how he did before was going to mass. Even mass started to lose its lure as he got older and understood the heartache that came with Christmas, mostly from prayers—prayers only he could hear because of his senses. Parents prayed to God for a Christmas miracle to afford gifts, and orphaned children prayed for someone to adopt them in time for the holiday. 
Christmas hasn’t been the same for Matt for a long time. He still attended mass at his old church, said hello to Father Lantom and the sisters who practically raised him, and continued to carry that heaviness in his heart that’d been growing since he was a kid. It will never go away. 
It was worse living in Hell’s Kitchen alone. But at least in recent years, he had Karen and Foggy to celebrate Christmas with. Except, this year was different. After years and years of space her father needed, Karen’s dad was finally ready to reconcile with his daughter. She left work early Friday to drive up to Vermont. Foggy was spending Christmas with Marci’s family this year, all the way in South Jersey. This left Matt on his own for Christmas for the first time in years. He didn’t know what he would do. 
Come Christmas, the entire apartment was nearly empty. Everyone had left to go to the country to visit family. Everyone but her. She was alone today as well…soft classical music played from her apartment—she never played music too loud, unlike other tenants. The movie How the Grinch Stole Christmas played in the background, too. And Matt’s mouth started to water and his stomach growled when he smelt gingerbread cookies from her oven. 
To feel closer to her, Matt reached for the latest book in braille she brought him. She said it was one of her favorites: The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway. Matt was never a big fan of literature, but for her, he could be. While he couldn’t make sense of some metaphors (he blames law school for teaching him to take things very literally) he still appreciated the way authors could write beautifully. And he loved reading what she loved. 
When she tried to explain the allegories and metaphors in the book, Matt joked to her about a book his father used to read to him all the time: The Giving Tree. That was the last book he ever read for pleasure, juvenile and silly as it was. His father read it to him before bed every night. And there it was again, that familiar ache and break in his soul whenever he thought of his father. 
He closed the book and closed his eyes as he let the sounds of the smell of her apartment fill his senses. He longed to be there with her. He longed to say hello. Eventually, he would work up the courage. Eventually, he fell asleep instead.
***
Matt woke up to a gentle knocking on his door. He shot up on the couch, disoriented, and clicked his phone for the time. It is 6 PM, the automated voice read. Matt felt his heart drop as panic set in. He fell asleep for that long?!
When he listened for the knocks again, he realized it was her at his door. Matt panicked again and ran his hand through his chocolate brown hair, hoping he wouldn’t look like a mess when he answered his door. He cracked his neck and adjusted his shirt as he walked over to answer. He didn’t bother to hone in on his senses to get a feel for what she had with her if there was anything at all. Matt opened the door. 
“Hi Matt,” she said, her voice an octave higher out of nervousness. “Is now a bad time?”
“Oh no,” Matt answered quickly, running a hand through his hair again. “I just—was… I accidentally fell asleep,” he ended up admitting sheepishly. There was no use in lying. 
“No plans either today, huh?” She asked a hint of irony in her tone. Matt huffed out a laugh, ignoring that tugging feeling in his heart. 
“Well, I might attend mass later, since I at least didn’t sleep through that,” Matt answered. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”
“Merry Christmas!” She exclaimed, and it was then that Matt finally noticed she was holding a plate of gingerbread cookies in her hands. “I baked some cookies and thought you’d like some. Some have frosting and some don’t. I wasn’t sure what you preferred.”
“Are you kidding? I don’t discriminate cookies,” Matt smiled, taking the plate from her hands graciously. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” He suddenly felt guilty—he didn’t have anything to offer her. 
“I wanted to,” she shrugged. “You’re the only person here I can share this day with, so why not?” 
Matt smiled softly, wondering why she was celebrating Christmas alone. No family, like him? 
He wasn’t sure what to say now. Well, he knew what he wanted to say… he knew what he wanted to ask. But he wasn’t sure if he had the courage to. 
“Well,” she said, “I’ll leave you to it. I hope you like them,” there was a hint of urgency in her voice like she too was holding something back. Uncertainty. He wasn’t a stranger to it. 
“Hey,” Matt suddenly said, swallowing his pride, his lonesome, his fear. “Would you—if you’re up to it, would you want to join me for Christmas mass? It’s at my old Catholic Church a few blocks down. I could—use some company.”
“Really?” She jumped at the opportunity. Matt’s heart skipped a beat. “Even though I’m not that religious, I could go?”
“Of course,” Matt answered, “they always welcome strangers. It starts at 7:30.”
“Well, okay,” she answered happily, “I'd love to join you.”
“Alright then,” Matt said. “I’ll come by your door at 7. Until then, I might finish this plate of cookies.”
She laughed. He wanted to tell another joke just to hear it again. 
***
The walk home from Mass was quieter than the way there if that were possible. Perhaps, neither of them was used to being with the other outside the apartment—or maybe, both of them had a lot to say but no idea how to say it. What did Matt want to say?
It’s been a while since he went to mass with anyone. For her to accompany him to something important to him meant the world. She didn’t know how much it meant to him for her to join. Most people groaned at the idea of going to church—but her? She nearly leaped at it. It made him even more curious as to why she was alone on this day, but he would save that question for another time. Right now, he was just grateful. 
She reached in her pocket for the keys to the building. Matt listened closely to her. Her heart was beating slightly faster than normal from walking. She was taking shaky breaths from the cold. When the door finally opened, Matt held it for her to walk in first. He was thankful they didn’t run into any trouble on the way home. 
“I’m not used to the building being this quiet,” she said on the way up the stairs, in an attempt to make conversation. 
“Me either,” Matt said. “I could get used to it, though.”
“I hope I’m not too loud,” she laughed lightly.
“You?” Matt scoffed. “You’re a dream of a neighbor. You drop me off books and now cookies.”
She laughed again, “You save me from bad dates. I guess you’re not bad of a neighbor either.”
When they finally reached their floor, Matt walked her to her door and listened from the outside, just in case. It was quiet, and still. Safe. Safe for her to walk in. She paused at the door, that familiar uncertainty filling her voice again as she spoke. 
“That was beautiful,” she said softly, “the service. It’s been a while since I’ve been to something like that. I forgot how fulfilling it was.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Matt said. “Most people find it boring—which I suppose it can be, but on days like today, I could really use it. It…gets lonely during the holidays.”
“I understand,” she whispered, leaning against her door. She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want this to be the end of their night. “I feel the same.” 
“Yeah,” Matt spoke gently. “Thank you for joining me. It means a lot to me.”
“You’re welcome,” she sighed. “Before you go, I do have one last thing for you. Do you want to come inside real quick, before we say goodnight?”
Matt was stunned by her question—it was at that moment he realized he’d been waiting for her to ask it.
“Sure,” Matt tried to sound as calm as possible. She smiled and unlocked her door. 
Matt tapped his cane in front of him to walk inside. If her apartment wasn’t intoxicating enough, being inside was downright exhilarating. A soft vanilla scent wafted through her apartment. There was a suede couch in the living room and a velvet carpet. Matt took a seat on her couch as she sauntered off to her bedroom. Her bedroom…
“Okay,” she softly announced, reappearing in the living room. “Hold out your hands.”
Matt rested his cane on the floor and held out his hands smiling. She sat down next to him, her knee touching his. She placed what felt like a thin rectangle, wrapped in paper, in his hands. 
“You can open it,” she giggled.
Matt began to slowly rip at the present, careful to not completely rip it apart. Whatever he held, it was upside down. Matt flipped it in his hands. It was a book, of course. When he ran his fingers over the cover, his heart nearly dropped in his stomach. 
⠞⠓⠑ ⠛⠊⠧⠊⠝⠛ ⠞⠗⠑⠑
The Giving Tree
Translated in Braille 
The Giving Tree. His childhood book. The last book his father ever read to him. A book he hasn’t picked up in years. 
“I know it’s juvenile,” she began to explain as she saw the utter surprise on Matt’s face, even behind his dark glasses. “But there’s something special about revisiting childhood books. They shaped us. I remember you told me your dad used to read this to you all the time. I thought maybe you’d like to have a new copy in braille.”
Matt was overcome by so many emotions—the thoughtfulness behind her gift, the memories it brought him, the feelings he hadn’t felt since he was a kid—it was all too much, too much for him to pretend like this didn’t impact him. It did. So many things made sense for him at this moment. From being the only two left in this apartment on Christmas, to the book she’s gifted him.
He whispered her name, placing the book in his lap. He didn’t care if his next actions were too forward, it was the only way he could convey what he felt. He took both her hands in his and rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles, feeling each bone slowly and the way her fingers melted in his palms. 
“Thank you,” he uttered, choked on emotion. His heart felt too big in his chest. “This means a lot to me. I wish… I wish I could explain it better,” Matt whispered. “I love it. Thank you.”
“Of course,” she whispered in return, surprised at his sudden vulnerability. “I’m happy you like it.”
Suddenly, Matt pulls his hands away from hers, placing them on the cover of the book. A dark expression fell over his face. “I didn’t get you anything. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Matt,” she laughed, “it’s not about that for me. Your reaction alone was more than I could ever want. And spending this dreadful day not alone for once was the best gift of all.”
She walked Matt to the door. It was getting late and she felt ready to go to sleep. It was an emotionally exhausting day but fulfilling. She only wished it didn’t have to end with her alone. Spending Christmas with Matt was a treat. She didn’t know how badly she needed it. 
Before he was completely outside her door, he turned around and offered a small smile. 
“If you ever get lonely,” Matt began in a voice above a whisper, “Christmas or not… I’m only across the hall.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she smiled, “the same sentiment applies to you, too.”
When she shut her door, Matt waited to hear the click of the lock. He stood for a moment, book in hand, cane in the other, heart on his sleeve. He left a part of himself with her. He wanted her to keep it forever. 
For once, Christmas didn’t feel lonely and it didn’t feel like something he once longed for. There he was, holding a part of his childhood in his hands carefully, while perhaps a glimmer of a future waited on the other side of the door. 
TAGS: @mattmurdocksstarlight @yentroucnagol @danzer8705 @allllium @i-marvel-bitch @mattsgirlsworld @babygrlmurdock @writtenbyred @uncle-eggy
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pupsmailbox · 7 months ago
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SCENE︰EMO ID PACK
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NAMES ⌇ acid. adder. adrian. aisling. alex. alice. alix. amethyst. annabelle. aqua. ash. ashlee. ashley. aspen. astley. avril. awe. axe. ayesha. bates. bell. bella. belladonna. bellatrix. billy. blade. blair. blitz. bloodie. bloodscene. blythe. bow. bree. butterfly. callie. candi. candy. celeste. chase. checkerz. clarity. click. coraline. couture. crow. cyril. cyrus. dakota. demi. demonia. devin. dino. dizzy. doge. dom. dominic. ebony. electra. elliot. emery. emmett. emo. epic. erin. evan. flash. fred. galaxy. gavin. gerard. ghostie. gif. gloom. gray. grayson. grim.���gutz. happy. havoc. hazel. heyley. hunter. hyde. indigo. ink. iris. ivory. ivy. jack. jade. jason. jasper. jax. jeff. jet. jett. julie. kai kandi. kandiz. kat. kayden. killer. kit. kitt. kobi. kyler. lady. lapis. lee. lexie. liam. luna. lurk. lynx. lyric. lyxzen. mace. maddox. madeline. mae. malice. marceline. marcie. mars. mavis. meow. mia. midnight. mika. mill. nana. neo. net. nick. nina. noah. noob. nora. nyan. nyx. obscene. octavia. olivia. onix. onyx. opal. orange. orchid. pearl. phantom. phoenix. pierce, pierce. pitch. pixie. pop. punk. pusheen. rain. rainbow. raine. rainer. rave. raven. raver. rawr. razorz. reaper. ripley. river. rogue. ronnie. rose. rouge. roux. rubi. ruby ruby. sable. salem. sally. sapphire. sash. sasha. scythe. silvi. silvia. smiley. smoke. smokey. snap. snow. sonya. soot. sparrow. spike. splatter. spook. stella. steve. stripe. sunny. suzi. suzie. suzy. taffi. taffy. tag. tech. tempest. travis. trend. tyler. vesper. vine. vista. vivi. waffle. wave. web. wentz. wesley. wild. willow. wound. xander. z!m. zach. zack. zade. zaire. zak. zander. zara. zero. ziggy. zim. zircon. zoe. zoom. zyair.
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PRONOUNS ⌇ awesome/awesome. ay/aym. bark/bark. bi/bim. bite/bite. black/black. bling/blingee. blood/blood. bone/bone. bow/bow. brace/bracelet. bright/bright. bright/colour. byte/byte. cat/cat. cata/catatonic. ce/cer. check/checkered. chem/chem. cir/circut. color/color. computer/computer. cool/cool. cos/cos. creepy/pasta. cringe/cringe. cry/cry. cut/cut. dead/dead. death/death. die/die. dino/dino. emo/emo. emoticon/emoticon. epic/epic. ev/ev. exe/exe. ey/em. eye/strain. fang/fang. fringe/fringe. game/game. gamer/gamer. ghost/ghost. gir/gir. girr/girr. glit/glitter. glitter/glitter. gloom/gloom. glow/glow. glow/stick. gore/gore. grr/grr. gun/gun. gut/gut. hor/horror. hx/hxm. hyper/hyper. hyperpop/hyperpop. internet/internet. it/it. ix/ix. kan/kandi. kand/kandi. kandi/kandi. kill/kill. kit/kit. knife/knife. lix/lix. loud/loud. luv/luv. mask/mask. meme/meme. meow/meow. mew/mew. mlp/mlp. mon/monster. mspaint/mspaint. music/music. neo/neon. neon/neon. net/net. nostalgia/nostalgia. nya/nya. nya/nyan. nyan/cat. old/old. online/online. pika/pikachu. pix/pix. pixel/pixel. plur/plur. pony/pony. pop/pop. pop/tart. queen/queen. quiet/quiet. rain/rain. rainbow/rainbow. random/random. rave/rave. rawr/rawr. raz/razor. red/red. rei/reina. scene/scene. scene/scenester. scenecore/scenecore. scream/scream. shx/hxr. si/silent. silly/silly. skull/skull. slash/slash. slice/slice. sound/sound. spi/spider. spook/spook. stab/stab. stick/sticker. sticker/sticker. stud/stud. swag/swags/swagself. thxy/thxm. troll/troll. tutu/tutu. txt/txt. vamp/vamp. video/game. virtual/virtual. vocaloid/vocaloid. web/web. windows/window. x3/x3. x]/x]. xD/xD. xe/xem. xey/xem. xP/xP. xy/xyr. youtube/youtube. ze/zem. ze/zer. ze/zero. zi/zim. zim/zim. zom/zombie. zomb/zomb.
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mermaidgirl30 · 7 months ago
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✨Javi’s Playground✨
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A/N: Ahhh I’ve been wanting to write a Javi one shot for a while, and I finally got the inspiration after listening to “Sex & Candy” by Marcy Playground. Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me come up with a name and beta read so I didn’t chicken out and not post 😘 This is my first time writing Javi, so I’d like as much feedback as I can get 🥰 I tried my best with the Spanish translations.
Summary: Javi decides to blow off some steam at the strip club, but he doesn’t intend to attempt to take one of the dancers home with him.
Pairing: Javier Pena x fem! reader
Word Count: 3.2k
Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)
Tags: smut, flirting, Javi goes to a strip club, alcohol, smoking, unprotected p in v, oral, Narcos era, reader is a stripper, reader has long hair, switching POVs, some Spanish (translations at bottom of doc)
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
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The glow of the amber lights swirl above his head as a crystal disco ball spins slowly, throwing its sparkly essence into the crowded strip club. This isn’t his normal place, Paradise Cove. It’s only a distraction, a secret alcove to let go of any thoughts of drug lords, innocent bloodshed, Pablo Escobar, or any traces of misery he’s been holding on to over the past treacherous year. This was a place for forgetting, relaxing the mind, indulging in mere fantasies he could only wish to grasp his torn hands around. So he’d drink, smoke, and indulge in beautiful women in peace on this lonely Friday evening. 
   The red walls are smeared with flecks of sparkles, and the atmosphere is bursting with energy and dim lighting. The cool glass of amber whiskey sits in his hand as he gulps down another swig, letting the burn coat his insides as he flicks the small lighter and lights up another Marlboro cigarette. He lets the smoke surround him, fogging his vision as he inhales the nicotine and lets it sit there dwindling around him in a blur. Just for a couple of seconds, just enough to take the edge off of his growing migraine. 
   He throws his head back and exhales, blowing the smoke out as the music changes over to a tune he knows. “Sex & Candy” by Marcy Playground starts to play from the blaring speakers, the song slowly slipping through his ears as he sits up just a little straighter in the black leather chair. 
   The crowd hollers when the next girl takes the stage, low whistles reverberating off the side mahogany tables as the volume of the music picks up. He doesn’t realize what they’re all making a fuss about until he looks up and sees you. The most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. Esplendida. 
   You’re so radiant, the way you strut across the stage in your crystal clear stiletto high heels as you spin in slow motion, running your fingers through your thick, long curls as you look over your shoulder and flirt with the crowd. Your legs are so long, the curve of your thighs begging to be touched as you sway your hips side to side and get lost in the song.
   And then there she was, in platform double suede. Yeah, there she was. Like disco lemonade.
   He can’t help but grip the damp glass in his hands a little too tight as he spreads his legs wide and relaxes into the plush leather, his eyes glued to you as you slide down the pole gracefully. He wets his lips as his tongue glides across his bottom lip, his cigarette burning his flared nostrils as he oogles the way you please the crowd with every single move you make across the reflective stage. 
   He watches the way you push the swell of your breasts up with your delicate hands, eyes the tiny black lingerie set that barely covers your porcelain skin, assesses the way the lacy thong skims across the curve of your hips, and nearly drowns on his sip of bubbling whiskey as you bend down and show off the thick globes of your ass. 
   Javi sets the half empty glass of alcohol down beside him on the little sturdy table and grabs his denim clad knee as he sinks his nails into the fabric, trying to hold himself together as he listens to the track play through the massive club, watching the way you keep turning and finding his searing gaze. 
   I smell sex and candy here. Who’s that lounging in my chair? Who’s that casting devious stares in my direction? Mama, this surely is a dream. 
   His brown eyes blow wide every time you turn and wink his way, casually flirting as you flip your hair and bite your lower lip, sending him spiraling as he feels the blood rush to his cock in his tight jeans, feeling just how hard he is now as his thick cock presses into the metal of the zipper. It’s like you know what you’re doing, sparkling eyes penetrating his gaze as you flirtatiously bat your long mascara coated eyelashes and eye fuck him from the glowing stage, making sure he’s getting exactly what he came her for. To feel good, to indulge in his fantasies, to make him think you want him. But customers don’t get to take strippers home. That’s not how this business works, not how it’s supposed to run, unless… 
   You slide slowly down the metal pole, ending up on the floor of the lit up stage as you spread your legs wide and tease him just a little as you play with the straps of your panties and press your heels into the floor, giving him a view that just about takes him out. He leans his elbows against his knees, rakes a hand through his thick mustache as he groans into the palm of his hand while sweat sticks to his tanned forehead. 
   He loves the view that’s on display, loves the outline of your pussy as he swears he can see wetness pooling there in between your legs while you sit there and tease him with the biggest smirk on your face he’s ever seen in his life. Those red, plump lips, those glistening thighs that deserve to be kissed, that pulsing core that begs to be lapped up. He can see it now, you splayed out on his bed while he fucks you deep, bottoming out as you scream his name, claw at his tanned skin as you beg for more. He’d take care of you. God he would. And fuck does he want to. Desesperadamente. 
   He can feel the precum sliding against his thick length, can feel just how badly he wants to palm himself through his tight denim as he watches you fall apart on the stage before him. At this point he has no restraint, can barely sit here and watch as you start to crawl on your hands and knees toward him, hypnotizing eyes that lock on his as he leans forward and unfastens the black tie that clings to his button-up white collared shirt. 
   His eyebrows furrow, lips parting unbelievably as you curl your finger and beckon him to come to the side of the stage, your gaze flicking over his figure as he prays you don’t see the erection that’s begging for some kind of release that’d involve hands, or maybe a mouth, a warm tongue…
   He takes another drag of the sweet nicotine and pushes himself out of the leather chair, slowly trudging up to you as he lets his eyes trail generously over your perfect body. When he finally makes it over to the end of the glossy stage, he sees just how beautiful your eyes really are, eyes that were just eye fucking him seconds ago, eyes he’d love to gaze into while he cants his hips against yours roughly. Eyes he could lost in, swim in.
   You smirk his way, letting your hands run through your tousled curls as you flutter thick eyelashes up at him. He digs into the pit of his denim pocket and pulls out a crisp twenty dollar bill as he cautiously slides it inside the lace of your push-up bra, his fingertips grazing the edge of one of your perky breasts as he groans in response. Your skin is so soft, he thinks what you have underneath the lace will be even softer, divine, delicious. 
   You bite your bottom lip flirtatiously and play with the end of his loose tie, letting the silk slip through your fingertips as he watches in a blissed out daze. You could’ve chosen anyone to target, could’ve had attention from any of the sleazy men in this nightclub, but you chose him. The one with the flecks of honey eyes, the one that couldn’t keep his eyes off you for one second, the handsome stranger who must’ve been new to this place. 
   “You new here?” you ask curiously as you eye his stance, watching the way his eyes seem to light with burning fire every time he even dares to look your way. 
   “Been here once or twice before, but this is the first time I’m seeing you, hermosa.” He lets his dark eyes slide down your body, a smirk curling across his plush lips as he leans in closer, until you can smell the tinge of nicotine lacing through his taste buds. “You sure look good up on that stage, amar. Prettiest thing I’ve seen in a city like San Francisco.”
   “Oh? You like what you see?” you blush as you hang your legs off the end of the stage, just enough to brush his thighs as you feel how strong they are. 
   “Oh, I like what I see alright. Jodidamente perfecta.”
   You feel your cheeks burn bright red, feel your thighs clench up as you see how thick his fingers are, how dark and ravenous his eyes look, how hard he is underneath the fabric of his tight jeans. You don’t ever get this wound up about customers, but something about well dressed, smoldering men makes you want to lose all dignity and throw yourself at him. He must be so good in bed. With the way he’s staring at you, all hot and bothered, he may as well just carry you out of this club. Even if it’s technically against the rules. 
   “What’s your name, handsome?” you ask as you brush your heels against the side of his ankles and watch him tense up under your touch. 
   “Javier. Just call me Javi for short, though. And yours, hermosa?” You tell him your name, your real name, not your stripper name, even if that’s against the rules, too. You clearly don’t care about any fucking rules at this point. 
   “Ahh, that’s a gorgeous name. Telling me your real name, yeah? Aren’t you a little rule breaker,” he teases as he cocks up a thick eyebrow and slides his thumb over his lips as he brushes against his thick mustache. You wonder what it’d feel like with his mouth covering your core, his mustache brushing over your swollen clit as he licks and licks until you come apart on his large tongue. 
   You pull yourself out of ridiculous wet fantasies and watch the smoke fall off his tongue. “I live to break rules,” you tease as you pull him closer, catching the end of his black tie as he’s so close now that you can see the embers of brown flecks scatter across his dark eyes. He’s so handsome, you think you want to go home with him. 
   “That right, hermosa?” he asks as he takes another long drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke away from your face as that smug smirk still encases his playful teasing. 
   “That’s right,” you giggle as you gently curl your fingers over the wrist that holds the burning cigarette. 
   He watches you carefully, eyes full of trouble as he puffs out a breath and fills your nostrils with the stench of whiskey and nicotine. “What do you say, hermosa? Wanna take a tour of my bedroom tonight?”
   You carefully snag his lit cigarette from his outstretched hand and slide it in between your crimson lips, taking a slow drag of the cigarette as he watches you with dark, wide eyes and parted lips that shine with the gleam of amber colored whiskey. You gently blow out the smoke in his face and lean forward as you wrap your manicured fingers around his loosened tie. “You can give me money, yes, but what else? I have plenty of money. What is it that you want, handsome?”
   He grabs the cigarette from your open hand and takes a whiff of the nicotine, letting it blow right back into your face as you smell whiskey, smoke, and trouble fill your lungs.
   “Te deseo…” He says it slowly, meticulously like it’s the most sensual thing he’s ever said to a woman before. You don’t know what it means, but it damn sure sounds like you need to say yes. 
   Your eyebrows raise as you smile wide his way. “I don’t speak Spanish, handsome. But I think I want to say yes. Wanna indulge me in what exactly it is you want?”
   He takes another slow drag of his cigarette as he smirks your way. “I want you, hermosa. In my bed, underneath my body, so I can fuck you fast and hard. Wanna rip off that lace and devour your sweet pussy until I have you coming apart on my tongue. Wanna make love to the beauty that stole my heart away tonight.”
   Your breath hitches as you gasp out of breath, not realizing you clutched onto his leather belt and clenched your sticky thighs together as slick pools warmly in your lace. You should’ve known he was a handsome menace the first moment you saw him sitting there with his glass of cold whiskey and lit up cigarette. You should’ve fucking guessed. 
   His body is now too close to yours, chest pressed against yours as you stand shakily off the stage and feel just how bad he wants you through the fabric of his tight jeans. You can see that way his dark eyes flick over yours, feel the heavy breaths coming from his broad chest, smell the stench of trouble and nicotine lacing around your wrists as he slowly grabs a strand of hair and whispers your name into the shell of your ear. 
   It’s almost too much, almost enough to get you fired right on the spot until the music suddenly changes to a Rhianna song, signaling it was time for the next dancer to come out. You abruptly pull away from him as you feel the tension sit thick in the air, almost like a fog takes over and you can’t see anything clearly anymore. 
   It’s your time to go, to mingle with other clients, and he knows that, you can see it in the understanding of those big chocolate eyes that stare adamantly at you. You give him a flirtatious wave and brush up against his large arm as you whisper up to him, “I get off in an hour. Meet me in the back.”
   He watches you saunter off, half smiling as he realizes he got the girl. He never misses, almost never gets turned down, but this one he might want to see again. He can already tell he’ll want you to stick around, maybe even make you his. Maybe he won’t have to walk this lonely, overbearing life alone anymore. Maybe…. just maybe you’ll stay. Maybe he’ll let you stay. Maybe for a night, a month, a year, forever. 
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   The smell of sweat covered bodies, vanilla scents of sensual movements and whiskey clad tongues fill the room as you move at a slow, passionate pace. His meaty hands and smooth tongue are everywhere, sliding down your neck, pulling your pebbled nipples into his warm mouth, and lapping thoroughly at the slick between your sticky thighs. 
   Your moans come in sync. Elated, deafening, ravenous every time he licks a thick stripe over your dripping core. He groans each time you rake your fingers through his mess of dark locks, your pleasurable moans filling the room every time he pulls your puffy clit into his mouth as his thick fingers curl up into the spongy walls that make you see blinding stars in your vision. He doesn’t stop even after the first time you come for him, spilling all your pent up slick as he laps up every single drop between your thighs. 
   He pulls out another mind blowing orgasm with his experienced tongue alone, and he doesn’t even give you a minute to breathe before he’s splitting you in two with the slick cock that fills you to the brim, bottoming out in you time and time again until you feel him everywhere in your system, like the nicotine and whiskey that fill his lungs night after lonely night. He licks into your mouth, his smooth tongue dancing along with yours until you can’t taste anything but the tang of neat whiskey and toxic nicotine that bleed into your bloodstream, tasting like sweet addiction and danger, a lover in disguise. 
   You’re already close again, almost spilling yourself around his thick cock as he bends your knees back and folds you like an acrobatic so you can feel him deep, rough every single time he snaps his hips against yours and buries his face into your neck with furrowed eyebrows as he sucks and bites against the base of your neck. 
   “Come for me again, hermosa. There you go, such a good fucking girl. Let me feel you again. Squeezing so tight around my fucking cock,” he growls as he guides his thumb down to your clit and starts to circle nice and slow, the pressure building in your spine as you start to let go. 
   “Javi,” you moan as you scratch your long nails down his bare back, clawing at his tanned skin every time he guides his slick cocks inside you, reaching that spongy spot that makes you plead and moan with every thrust of his hips. 
   “Attagirl, hermosa. Tan encantadora,” he pants as sweat covers his glistening forehead. Once, twice, three more tight circles on your bundle of nerves and you’re squeezing his cock, spilling yourself all over him as you moan loudly into his ear as he comes seconds after, throwing his head back as he groans with pleasure as thick ropes of white come paint your insides. 
   He topples over next to you in the damp, twisted sheets and pulls you against his broad chest while his free hand lights a cigarette up while he gets lost in the thick cloud of nicotine and musty sex. While he sucks on the addictive stick of nicotine, his dark eyes wade over you as his lips graze warmly over your sweat covered forehead. 
   “Did so good for me, hermosa. You wanna stay the night? I can get you all cleaned up in the morning, and we can go for breakfast. Maybe eat you out on the kitchen counter while I make you coffee. What do you say, hermosa?”
   You shift closer against his side, sliding your fingers over his glistening chest as his deep breaths fill the void in the spacious room. You flick your eyes up to him and study him, watching the way he inhales smoke and stares warmly down your way, like he’s in a lucid dream just watching the girl of his dreams. “You mean like… you want to keep seeing me? This wasn’t a one time thing?”
   His jaw goes slack as his lips parts open, putting the burning cigarette out on the pale blue ash tray on the edge of his mahogany nightstand. “That’s right, hermosa. A sweet, beautiful, gorgeous girl like you deserves more, and I want to give you that. If you’ll let me.”
   You take in his offer, your fingers threading through his as you crawl over him and graze your swollen red lips against his. “Okay then, Javi. Show me your world.”
   He cups the back of your neck and brings you down to his lips as he slots his tongue between your lipstick smeared lips, pulling you deep into him as you taste every shade of red he can paint you, coating you in desire you’ve only ever dreamed of. 
   He tasted like sex and candy, and you were just getting started. 
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If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging or commenting or leaving me asks 🩷
Spanish Translations:
Hermosa - beautiful
Esplendida - gorgeous
desesperadamente - desperately
jodidamente perfecta - fucking perfect
Tan Encantadora - so lovely
Tags: @keylimebeag @sawymredfox @littlevenicebitch69 @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape
@vivian-pascal @msjarvis @amyispxnk @jasminedragoon @burntheedges
@akah565 @princesatracionera @rav3n-pascal22 @604to647 @pedrostories
@syd-djarin @tuquoquebrute @r3dheadedwitch
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fuumiku · 8 months ago
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Chilcille huh... ngl I was a little suspicious. like why would you do that, huh... hope youre not mischaracterizing anyone in your weird and wacky ship. a little weird. but then you said they both had flat asses and you know what? I salute you and your perfect characterization
The fact you seem to think you managed to not make this ask insulting is baffling. What the hell. Fuck off.
If you actually care to be open minded about the ship, I talk about marchil on my sideblog 24/7. Funnily enough I’m currently 4k words deep into an analysis of their character arc together in canon, but that’ll take some more days to get done. Some notable posts:
Of course without counting the analyses of Chilchuck on his own I’ve made, like my masterpost on his family situation. Or better yet you could also read my fics for them, see how weird and wacky they are here.
Wanna talk about mischaracterisation? They’re literally a comedic duo who interacts 24/7. Marchil is crazy bc ppl are like "did those shipper read with their eyes CLOSED?? They have no chemistry!" Meanwhile canon is like: "She’s obsessed with knowing everything she can about him and she reads him like a book." In her eyes he’s like that extra rare and hard and shiny unlockable dating sim character, that brooding mysterious character trope that’s thrilling to crack open and typically is at the center of the plot. The wife roleplay???? "Hey, did you know his type is blondes. Hey did you know he likes his women pretty and blonde. Hey did you know he likes her hair. Hey did you know that he teases her 24/7 and it’s one of the few things that consistently gets him grinning because he finds her reactions cute." Like a schoolyard bully pulling on the pigtails of the girl he likes.
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It’s not like they have any thematic narratives or relevance. It’s not like she’ll live to 1000 and has existential dread about it while he’s logically gonna be her next friend to die at 50 and wether it’s romantic or platonic it’ll terrify her to lose him. It’s not like it’s fear of death x fear of rejection so they’re both obsessed with the thought of loss looming, past and ongoing. It’s not like it’s half-elf x half-foot and there’s an inherent journey that was and still is to dispel prejudices and truly come to see each other. It’s not like he’s painfully real and raw and flawed but still a good man, that he’s not the figure of prince charming that she’s always dreamed of while still being virtuous and worth fighting for. Or you know, her hair being golden and it being the epitome of beauty to him, and his hair turning silver and it being Marcille’s worst nightmare.
Just a weird wacky ship who means nothing but shallow things to people who have weirdo reasons for liking it. Like can you not. If you’re not imaginative enough to think of reasons why this ship may have an appealing dynamic that’s not my issue. But yes, yes, they’re both flat asses to me, thanks.
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cyyfics · 1 year ago
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hi! do you write for evil marcy? hcs about her would be nice :D
————-
Evil Marcy Dating Hc’s
Pairing: Evil! Marcy x reader
Warning(s): NSFW! At end. Kindve toxic?? She’s kinda obsessed w u but also not rly ?? Idk
Note: I totally forgot she existed oh my glob yuh I write for her ^_^
Second Note: I didn’t know wether or not to make the reader a human or a vampire ?? But I ultimately chose human in the end..
Gender stuff: mainly gn, some afab and some amab terms at end. Each bit seperate!
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———-
Sfw
- she teases you. Just for a bit of playful fun, maybe she will go and say something just to fluster you, or she will find some other way to turn your cheeks red.
- she loves it when you blush, finds it cute, but sort’ve in a demeaning way. ‘It’s so cute when the blood of a human rushes to their face.’ Marceline thinks to herself often when she teases you.
- she is super duper protective of you, you and her both know that yes she’s super powerful and rules over practically everyone- but she can’t help but be just a tad bit worried that some greedy underling would possibly eat her plaything if she let it out of her sight. (Same thing that happened to her fries. /j)
- she will keep you in her bedroom most of the time, just not wanting you to get hurt out there. Of course she will still let you out though, as long as she’s with you, if you went alone who knows what would happen? You’d probably get eaten.
- she pampers you heaps, maybe like one would do to their pet however. She would find food for you to eat, obviously you can’t eat the same things as her so she has to go out often to find stuff for you. In any other universe you’d find the food she gives you to be disgusting and revolting, but since you were used to the harsh (and alternate) world you were in- it was actually like eating a meal at a five star restaurant.
- In that universe food for everyone is scarce and what food that’s left for humans is normally rotted or doesn’t exist anymore. The food that exists in that universe now is stuff like rats/mice that you were lucky to find, and water which you’d have to manually filter the gross stuff out of. If you didn’t, you’d get sick, and with the universe being the way it was- there’d be no medicine to help if you got sick. And you’d probably die.
- speaking on that- Marceline also forces lowly vampires to get you food as well, she will check that it is not suspicious in any way before letting you eat it though. And if she finds something that looks somewhat off? Like maybe a bruise on some fruit, or a slight discolouration to meat, they will be met with an instant death. A snap to the neck before she rips their head off. No one will harm you.
- the king doesn’t love your relationship all that much, finds that you’re a nuisance. In all honesty he’s very worried that you may soften Marceline too much, but that’s actually not true at all. In fact you’d brought something new out of her, with the way she would instantly kill anyone and anything for you.
- the two of you fell in love one day by accident actually, the two of you were just around the same area at the same time. She was soaring above the skies and spotted you, flying down at you like a hawk and about to quickly eat you.
- somehow she didn’t, you don’t really know for sure why she didn’t but when she finally came down to bite you she just couldn’t. Her eyes met yours, and she hissed right in your face just before she left.
- you saw her again, because this time you just had to. You had to know why she let you go that one time, especially with a reputation of killing every single human she comes into contact with.
- she saw you too, not coming out to talk to you but just letting you stay alive out there. She was getting ready in her mirror, thinking to herself about you as a vein pulsed just above her eyebrow in annoyance. ‘Stupid human, what do they think they’re doing?’
- but again. She found herself letting you live.
- and that’s what kept happening, you’d find ways to run into her and talk with her and she’d actually respond sometimes. Other times she’d hiss and fly away, but the times that she did respond just made your relationship stronger.
- she likes kissing you, everywhere and any time. She likes kissing your lips, your flushed cheeks, your neck- you know you probably shouldn’t let her kiss there. But she adores it. She finds it oh so cute how you’d trust your puny little human life in her hands, oh how easy it’d be to just kill you.. but she doesn’t, she simply pecks the area as she hugs your waist
- most of her minions and just people in general that she just rules over have respect for you, I know I said that a lot would try to eat you but that’s because her people are starving. Some of them can’t help it. But the ones who can show respect to you just as they would for their queen.
- Marceline wishes you were meaner to people, but instead you’re just soft- but whenever you get angry or annoyed at something- oh she’s just fawning over you.
- “you stupid thing! Don’t you ever knock?! Get out before I stake you!” You hiss as a henchman turns the doorknob, catching you together with Marceline. Marceline’s face softens as she looks at you with adoration, right before she gives you a mischievous smirk.
- “didn’t know you had it in you to be so mean.” She giggles to herself “was that mean?” You ask dumbfounded not even realising that you had just chewed out that man- “very. And I loved it.” And she pulls you into a kiss in her arms.
- she likes to dress you up, likes to doll you up in her clothes and have you sit there looking pretty for her. She likes to stare at you when you’re just doing things, her darkened eyes just curious with what you’re doing constantly.
- if you ever try to jump scare her, she will find it cute and laugh at you. If you succeed? She will be so proud of you.
Nsfw
Warning(s): biting, blood, period blood talk AT END so avoid that if ur not into that at all, there’s also talks abt her being into scaring you and u being like scared idk what kinda kink that is
- she teases you. Degrades you.
- she loves degrading you actually, but more in a teasing and humiliating way than a mean way.
- on the other hand though, she also likes to praise you. It depends on how she feels at the time.
- Again. (She likes kissing your lips, your flushed cheeks, your neck- you know you probably shouldn’t let her kiss there. But she adores it. She finds it oh so cute how you’d trust your puny little human life in her hands, oh how easy it’d be to just kill you..) but in a lewd way.
- she plays with your fear, it excites her and it excites you- every time her fangs hover over your neck it makes a shiver go down your spine. She can feel that you’re scared and she loves it.
- has a prey/predator kink, she likes to let you run outside and then she likes to chase after you. Maybe some other vampires will occasionally wanna chase after you too, but she will easily kill them before ‘capturing’ you and returning you to her sweet bed.
- she will ravage you. In a good way.
- she WILL pounce on you.
- she’s the kind of girl to push you on the bed roughly and take you whenever she wishes. (And you too obviously)
- if you don’t wanna have sex and she roughly pushes you onto the bed, you just say so, and she understands and instead just lays there with you then. She will play with your hair, your shirt, just hanging out with you.
- if you let her peg you, she will do it any chance she gets. She loves to have you below her, looking up at her with those pretty glossy eyes as she just takes you on the bed.
- speaking of, she also likes having you ride her. She thinks it’s so cute when you sit on top of her grinding your hips against the strap.
- she will bite you, if you let her. Her teeth will just gently graze at your skin as she’s kissing you, licking up your neck, her fangs just slightly brushing over the most dangerous parts.. one wrong move and you’d be dead, and that fact sends her head spinning- as well as yours.
- she likes to tie you up, having you be so submissive to her is so adorable. She loves having you be so vulnerable to her every move.
- she will happily sit on your face, and not even just a light hover but actually putting a bit of weight down onto you. Her thighs crush the side of your head only a little, the slight asphyxiation from the situation amusing both her and you.
- she likes to nip at your thighs, if she’s down there teasing your sex she will also like to kiss at your soft thighs- before her teeth very gently sink into the skin. Leaving bite marks on the inside of your thighs, leaving cute reminders of what happened later on.
NSFW (if you have a vagina + period, some words are fem leaning in some of the hc’s)
- she likes to eat you out, wether you’re on your back or riding her face. She likes how scared you can get sometimes, knowing how close her very sharp teeth are down there.
- when you get your period, every vampire will know about it. No one will dare come near you nor Marceline when you are though, because if they do they know Marceline will murder them instantly.
- Marceline likes it when you’re on your period, she will eat you out when you are too. “That’s so gross though-“ you protest, and yet she’s there looking at you through her eyelashes as she enjoys this meal. After all, it’s the only time she can actually enjoy enough of your blood without actually harming you.
- she doesn’t care if blood gets onto her clothes or bed or anything, she will just lick it up or wash it later. It’s not uncommon for a vampire to be covered in blood so.
- (she loves degrading you actually, but more in a teasing and humiliating way than a mean way.) saying things like “you’re already so wet.. I barely even did anything” as she slips your panties to the side.
- she loves to praise you too though sometimes. “That’s my good girl, taking the strap so well..” she kisses your cheek. And a “You look real pretty when I touch here.” She says as she’s curling her fingers inside you.
NSFW (if you have a penis, some words are male leaning in some of the hc’s)
- She likes how much you trust her with letting her suck you off, she doesn’t normally put the whole thing in her mouth because the two of you are afraid of her teeth- but when she does do it? It feels so so good.
- she’d probably be into cock and ball torture I’m sorry.
- just like how she likes it when you blush because of the blood rushing to your face- she also likes giving you random boners. She teases you because she loves the way the blood runs to the head of your cock, making an uncomfortable situation in your pants.
- loves degrading… whenever you get hard she pretends she didn’t do anything, “you’re such a pervert.”
- she will (if ur into it) call you a gross little man thing, telling you that you’re very very lucky that a woman like her is even near your filthy cock.
- loves praise too though.
- she- if she feels like it- will worship your cock too. As she’s praising you of course. “So pretty for me, let me help you..”
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