#someone sent me the most wonderful inspiring ask about this fic

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

You Need Only Ask [professor!Marcus Pike x librarian!reader]

Read on Ao3

Pairing: History of Art professor Marcus Pike x art library reader/you (cishet female)

Tags/Warnings: Kind of pining idiots but only one is pining, everyone is being professional but it's clear that Marcus is a pining idiot, implied coworkers to lovers.

Summary: Professor Marcus Pike is one of those cliché absent-minded professors - or so you think, but maybe there's another reason why this brilliant academic is acting a dumb fool around you?

Words: 3,534

A/N: This was inspired by an ask sent to me by @just-here-for-the-moment for a fic ask game thingy. Here's the original ask and my reply. I didn't write it exactly like that (main difference is my fic is set in modern times), but I hope y'all still like it!

”Good morning.”

Your customer service smile in place, you look over your shoulder.

”Morning, Professor. Just give me a second and I will be right with you.”

He hums, and you turn back to the bookcase where you were just about to finish re-shelving returns. Once done, you join Marcus Pike, Professor of Art History, at the desk. He’s tapping his fingers, almost impercievably, against the surface of the old solid wood desk, and you stifle a sigh. He didn’t have to wait that long.

”What can I do for you?” you ask politely. Professor Pike is never rude, but he is the typical professor type: absent-minded, a little awkward, his research always the number one priority.

“I looked for this book in the online catalog, but as I suspected, you don’t have it. It’s probably sold out, too.” He gives you a piece of paper before both his hands disappear into his pockets.

“Another inter-library loan, then?” you state, looking at the title. It’s in French, and you know immediately that your library doesn’t have it. Professor Pike is not the most computer-skilled person, so you usually double-check every book he asks for in the database, but this one you know you don’t have.

“Might have to go international for this one,” you tell him. “Canada och Europe. That’s coming out of your department’s budget, you know that.”

“I’ll make room,” he shrugs, looking towards the door, like he can’t wait to get back to the comfort of his own office. “And could you please give me more time with the last one you got for me? I need it for a bit longer.”

“I’ll contact the lending library,” you nod. “I’ll let you know.”

“Great. Thank you.”

The “Sure thing” has barely left your mouth before Pike is out the door, the sound of his steps against the stone floor quickly disappearing down the hall. You shake your head before sitting down to look up the book for him.

As you work, you once again wonder how people like Marcus Pike get jobs at all. Someone as introverted as that would never have a real shot at getting a library job, which requires people skills, patience, and the ability to stand in front of people. But when it comes to academia, it seems like all you need is credentials and a good research profile, and you’re hired. Unlike you, who had to fight tooth and nail for this position. You have Master’s degrees in art and library science, educational and language studies, job experience, and it was still almost impossible to get this job. People who have these jobs never seem to retire but just sit there, year after year, until they eventually sprout roots that fasten them to their chairs.

But you’re here now, since five years, and while Pike’s predecessor never showed his face in the library but sometimes sent you cryptical emails requests that took you half a day to decipher, it’s nice to see that the much younger professor actually frequents the university’s special arts library.

Finally locating Pike’s book in a university library in France, you quickly find the instructions for ILL’s, and send a loan request. After that, you apply for more time for Pike’s previous book, and by afternoon, you have confirmation for both books: one will be mailed out later during the day in Europe, the other has been renewed. You let Pike know through an email, before performing closing duties in the library. Your computer pings just as you’re about to turn it off, and you see that it’s a reply from Pike. Clicking it up, you see the very unlikely response:

>>Amazing, what a service. Just bill the department, I’ve got it covered. Thank you so much 😊 <<

Shaking your head in disbelief at the informal tone, you turn off the computer, clock out, and go home.

Professor Pike is back two days later, now asking for a book that’s available. When you tell him so, he clears his throat, gaze flickering away from you.

“Could you maybe show me where it is?”

“Sure.” You’re curt, because this isn’t the first time. It’s an easy enough book to find, and every item in the library is labeled, and the database even has an interactive feature where you can click on the item’s call number to open up a layout of the stacks, showing the correct shelf in red. It has freed you up a lot now that most patrons can easily find their literature themselves, but some people just want you to do everything for them.

“You know, Professor, you could maybe my start of term library tour useful,” you dare to tease him as you walk before him to the right case. “Most freshmen find it very helpful, and they can usually manage their own information retrieval after.”

“I think maybe a little touch-up course would do me good,” he replies, voice a little tight. “But I like personal service.”

You find the book, pull it out, and hand it to him.

“That’s what I’m here for,” you tell him easily. “Anything else I can do for you?”

He swallows visibly.

“No, thank you.”

He uses the self check-out this time, and leaves quickly without saying goodbye. You shake your head, and catch the eye of Mandy, a Master’s student who works on her thesis in the library almost every day.

“Strange fellow, that one, isn’t he?”

She gives you a peculiar look. “I guess so.”

One thing that you appreciate a lot about your job is the building itself. The campus was built in Collegiate Gothic style in the middle of the 19th century, and compared to the nearby city library with its white surfaces, glass walls, and modern design furniture, the much quieter arts library still seems more alive. The library houses more books than one would think when first seeing it, and it has the charming nooks and crannies that are so common for old houses.

You’re standing in one of those nooks one day; an alcove that houses folios, a cart of tall books parked next to the step stool that you’re standing on. You hear someone enter the library, shout out a “Hello!” as you usually do to let patrons know that you’re in the stacks, and receive a low answer. Mindful not to hurt your wrists, you pick up another folio from the cart, and put it back in its place.

The sound of footsteps stops at the desk, and you pick up the next book.

“Be right with you!”

The patron moves again, slowly walking towards the corner where you are, as if looking for you. You turn your head just as you see Professor Pike come around the corner of a bookcase.

“Oh,” he clears his throat. “There you are.”

“Here I am,” you nod, picking up the next book. “Almost done.”

“I got your email about the book from France. They sent it rather fast.”

“I was surprised, too,” you admit. There’s one book left, and you really should get down from the stool, move it, and get up again, but you’re lazy. You reach, getting up on your toes, just barely getting the book into place when you feel the stool slip from under you. You gasp, a thousand thoughts rushing through your head during the split second you’re in free fall, and then you land softly, not on the floor, but against a corduroy chest, strong arms holding you.

“Shit, that was close!”

You’re tongue-tied, wide-eyed with shock, heart in your throat and going a mile a minute to make up for the missed beats.

“Are you okay?”

You slowly start to realize that you’re in the arms of Marcus Pike, who caught you when you fell from the stool. And he’s still holding you.

“Yeah, I, yeah, fine, I’m good.” You babble, moving uncomfortably to let him know to let you down, which he does with the utmost care. Your legs are wobbly, and Pike keeps a hand on your waist to make sure you won’t fall.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you now giggle, embarrassed but simultaneously exhilarated by the rush of adrenaline. “That wasn’t stupid at all, was it? I’ve been thinking about having that stool replaced, but I never got around to it, haha. I guess it takes an accident for me to get my thumb out of my a-, I mean, to get it done.”

Your cheeks are heating up, your hands are shaking as you grab the handles of the cart, kicking the accursed stool to the side.

“That was really scary, though,” Pike tells you in a low voice. “You could’ve really injured yourself.”

“Yeah, thanks, I mean, thanks for catching me.” You bite your lower lip and force yourself to look at him. “I’m so embarrassed. I should’ve been more careful.”

“Just glad I was here,” he shrugs, slowly following you as you march to the desk. “Although one could argue that had I not been here, you wouldn’t have tried to restack that heavy book without moving your stool. Sorry if I stressed you.”

“You didn’t,” you tell him lightly. “I sometimes cut corners like that. It’s fine, no harm done.”

You park the cart in its spot behind the desk, and turn to the shelf of reserved books.

“Here’s your inter-library loan. Due date four weeks from now, if you need it for longer, you know the drill.”

“I do,” he replies quietly and accepts the book from you. Holding it in one hand, he carefully opens it with the other, and thoughtfully browses through it. You sit down, flustered and still a little shaky, hoping that he’ll leave so that you can nurse your wounded pride, and maybe have a drink of water.

“It’s about these eighteenth-century art frauds in Europe – “

“I know. I read the title,” you cut him off, more curt than you meant to. Pike closes the book and nervously fingers the paper slip in it.

“You read French?”

“I even speak it.”

A smile breaks out on his face. “Of course you do.”

You stare at him, frowning as you try to understand what his deal is, and why he’s suddenly smiling like that. It’s never happened before.

And you’ve never noticed what a charming smile he has. It reveals a dimple in his right cheek that makes him look younger than he is – not that he’s old in any way, he must be around your age, somewhere between forty and fifty. The smile makes you even more shaky, and you can’t stop staring at him. He eventually notices, the smile dies down, and he lowers his eyes.

“Well, thanks,” he mumbles, turning around and walking away briskly, leaving you to stare after him, wondering what the hell happened.

Mandy comes in from her lunch break, waves a hello, then stops when she sees you.

“Is everything okay?”

You nod dismissively. “I’m fine, Mandy. I just… almost fell from a stool. But no harm done.”

She expresses her sympathies before going to the study area. You take a deep breath, and disappear into the back room for a glass of water.

There’s tittling in the stacks, but you don’t pay it any mind: it’s part of library life, especially on a campus filled with hormonal young adults. It’s not until your hear Professor Pike’s name mentioned that you stop writing on your keyboard, and strain to hear better.

“He’s the best lecturer here.”

“And he’s so fucking hot, don’t you think?”

“Cara! He’s a million years old!”

“No, he’s not, he’s like the youngest of the faculty, except for Langley, but she’s a woman.”

“Well, I’m bi, and she’s fine too.”

Shameless giggling ensues, and you have to stifle one as well.

“Wouldn’t mind doing some extra credit for Professor Pike…”

“That’s so tacky, Mindy.”

“Come on, like you haven’t thought about it.”

The girls appear from the stacks, carrying literature over to the self service check-out.

“I just think that his lectures are amazing. He can explain literally anything so that I get it. And he knows so much.”

You stare at your screen, but you’re listening to the students.

“He should lecture more, why doesn’t he have any classes?”

“Dug, because he’s a professor, he has other things to do.”

“I’d give him something to do…”

More giggling.

“I’m serious! I ended upw atching that Youtube lecture twice just because he’s so good!”

The girls borrow their books while talking, then nod good-bye to you as they leave. You nod back, then hit up Youtube, and type in Professor Marcus Pike.

You find a video of him giving a lecture on the history of art, and open it. And your jaw drops.

The man in the video is confident without being cocky, talkative, engaging, contact-seeking. He speaks clearly, even drops a couple of jokes, and he walks around the podium in the auditorium. If it wasn’t for that corduroy jacket with the leather patches at the shoulders, the one that you had enveloped around yourself last week, you wouldn’t have recognized the man.

You close the video and chew your lower lip. You always thought Pike was this nutty professor who didn’t know how to behave around people and preferred books to socializing. But the man in the video is nothing like that. So what is his problem when talking to you?

Navigating to Facebook, you search his name, finding him easily enough. He doesn’t seem to be very active, but his professional profile is listed.

His status is set to “single”, which surprises you, but you think no further of it. You click on to photos, finding only a few, most of them outdated.

“Good afternoon.”

You look up, startled at the familiar voice. Seeing Marcus Pike’s face, you close the browser window quickly.

“Sorry,” he quickly apologizes. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No worries, I was just… working.”

He clears his throat. “I’d like to return this.”

You accept the book from him, recognizing it as one of his previous ILL’s.

“Thank you.”

A couple of students come in, saying hello to both of you before disappearing into the stacks, phones in hand, library catalog probably open in their mobile browsers. Marcus looks after them, moving his weight from one foot to the other. You put the book to the side.

“Anything else I can do for you, Professor?”

He almost jumps at the sound of your voice.

“Um, no, thank you, I have to get back to work, grad student coming to see me, um, thanks, I’ll let your know if I need anything.”

He leaves the library, and you’re almost laughing. What the hell was that?

As soon as the students have found and borrowed their books, and you’re alone in the library with Mandy, she gets up and comes over to the desk. You smile your mild customer service smile at her, but she returns it with a wry grin.

“You know that he likes you right?”

You blink, not understanding. “Excuse me?”

“Professor Pike. He likes you.”

You shake your head to show her that you have no idea what she’s talking about, and she laughs.

“Oh, come on! The way he stutters and stumbles when he’s here. And he talks about you all the time, every chance he gets.”

“He what?” Your voice goes up, and you clamp your mouth shut. Mandy nods.

“He always tells us to use the library, and ask you for help. The librarian there is really competent, we’re lucky to have such a professional at our service, that sort of thing.”

“Why do you think that means he likes me?” you ask, cheeks heating up. This is stupid, this girl is half your age, and you’re talking like both of you are in middle school.

“Because he’s super confident in class, in meetings, whenever he talks to anyone, except you.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Hello!” Mandy rolls her eyes. “Earth to librarian lady! He’s like a flustered cinnamon bun whenever he’s around you – “

“Cinnamon bun?” you interrupt her, incredulously.

“Cutie patootie in old folk speech,” Mandy smirks at you, and you scoff.

“I know what a cinnamon bun is.”

“Whatever. He comes here constantly, doesn’t he? I sit here most days, and no other faculty member visits as much. He’s here practically every day, asking you the simplest questions. He’s into you.”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about, Mandy,” you mumble, hands fidgeting in your lap.

“Alright, if you say so,” she smirks. “But I know what I’d do if I were you.”

Later, when she leaves the library, wishing you a good weekend, you open up the browser window again, Pike smiling charmingly at you from his profile picture. You look at it for a long time before logging out, and getting up to reshelf returns.

Friday afternoon in the library makes for slow hours. It’s usually empty – even Mandy has left – and while it gives you the opportunity to prepare for next week, there are Fridays when you’d rather just close up, if you could, and go home early.

A quarter to four, when you’re impatiently tapping your foot for closing time, Marcus Pike shows up again. Mandy’s words echo in your head, making you nervous for the first time, but you manage to suppress that, instead turning on your professional persona.

“Back so soon?” you ask him lightly

“Yeah, I need a book.” He seems to understand himself how stupid that sounded.

“You’ve come to the right place.”

He tells you the title, and you look it up.

“It’s in, call number N5198-5299,” you inform him, then looking up at his hesitant expression. “It’s in the corner over there.”

“Um, could you show me? I’m not good at this.”

“Okay.” You get up and walk around the desk. “But it’s a class that you use a lot, Professor, you should be accustomed to it by now.”

“Marcus.”

“What’s that?”

“Call me Marcus. I don’t much like titles anyway.”

“Uh-huh.”

You take him to the right stacks, walking in between the heavy cases. It’s a tight squeeze, this one, and the book is located further in. You pick it out, and turn around, only to find Marcus standing right behind you.

You’ve been in this situation before, many times even. Worst times were when you worked in the city library, and creeps would crowd you between the stacks, not trying anything but coming closer than necessary.

Your heart misses a beat, but you’re not uncomfortable. Instead, you smell something familiar and comforting, something besides old paper, leather covers, and ink. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s Marcus’s cologne, the corduroy, his shampoo: earthy but fresh, a little like the forest after rain, but with an undertone of old leather armchair.

You wet your lips, and hold up the book he asked for.

“Your book.”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t take it, so you lower your hand. He clears his throat, but this time, he doesn’t look away, but straight into your eyes.

“I was wondering…”

“Yeah?” you breathe.

“There’s this classic movie festival this weekend, and I was wondering…”

“If I wanted to go with you?” you finish his sentence for him, as he takes too long for you to wait. He blinks, then smiles that sweet smile again.

“Exactly. Yes. Would you?”

“I’d like that.”

“Really?” The smile seems to broaden even more.

“Sure. Tomorrow?”

“Perfect. I can pick you up, if you want to. At six?”

“Perfect,” you echo, now smiling widely yourself. He exhales, like he’s been holding his breath this entirely time.

“Perfect.”

The desk phone rings, startling both of you. The book falls from your hand, and you look down at it, then up at Marcus.

“I need to get that.”

“Of course,” he nods. You make a little movement with your head.

“I need to get past you, Marcus?”

“Oh, yes, of course, sorry.”

He backs out from between the cases, letting you out as well. His cologne seems to rub off on your arm when you brush past him, hurrying to the desk. You answer the phone and try to focus on the person calling, take a couple of notes, and end the call just as Marcus comes walking to the desk, book in hand. You check it out for him, give him your number, and he smiles again as he thanks you. You follow him to the door so that you can close up after him.

“I’ll call,” he promises as he steps out. You nod, hand on the door handle.

“Looking forward to it.”

He raises the book as a farewell, then starts walking down the corridor. You’re about to close the door when you suddenly step out, calling his name.

“Marcus!”

He turns around immediately, and now that he’s standing with his back straight, instead of hunched over, you notice how tall and broad-shouldered he is.

“Yes?”

“For the record… you’re into me, right?”

He chuckles, his ears turning pink. “Yeah, I’m into you.”

“Just checking,” you grin. “See you tomorrow.”

[actuallysaiyan]

I Think You're Holding The Heart Of Mine(Part I)

warnings: fluff, mutual pining, office relationship, mommy and daddy relationship

word count: 1.1k

pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Sorcerer!Reader

summary: as you're lost in thought about your life as a sorcerer and teacher at Jujutsu High, your work husband comes by to surprise you with lunch. and he suggests going to that little pub you enjoy for dinner...only to have Itadori-kun ask such a shameless question

a/n: This is very much inspired by the thirst and fic that @carnal-lnstinct sent in and wrote! I didn't think this would be a multiple part fic, but here we are! I hope to update this little story regularly.

Part two!

Your mind is clouded as you sit at your desk, paperwork forgotten in front of you. Despite the fact that you’ve settled in well at Jujutsu High, you were wondering where this position may lead you. You were wondering if things would evolve into something more than this. Life as a Jujutsu sorcerer was tough enough as it is, but someone was always there to make you feel more at ease.

It started small too, just him being kind to you behind those stoic glances and authoritative words. You were beginning to tear down those walls and see the true Kento underneath it all. And all this because you had proclaimed he was your work husband. It wasn’t something he truly loved to hear at first, but as you continued to treat him kindly, Kento was beginning to love the special treatment.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock at your office door and you look up to see the man in question. He’s got a paper bag full of food for lunch and there is a tiny grin on his face as he sees you. Your heart skips a beat at the way he’s playing into this role more than you ever expected him to. You beckon him closer and he sits down on the chair that faces yours. The bag is placed on your desk and your stomach growls the moment you can smell the many scents of spices.

“I got your favorite, honey.” Nanami loves calling you pet names, but it’s always with that teasing tone.

“Awh I should have known my sweetheart would know just what to perk me up.”

He pulls out the boxes of take-out and hands you a set of disposable chopsticks. Your heart is full of love for a man who you know isn’t actually your husband. But damn, you can’t help but really be in love with him most days. You’d do just about anything for him to slide a beautiful diamond ring on your finger.

The both of you eat comfortably, Nanami inquiring about your day just as a good husband should. You ask about his day, smiling when he mentions Itadori-kun. The first years were so special this year. You knew that Gojo had asked Nanami specifically to take care of the young pink-haired teen, but when you saw just how much Nanami took the young man under his wing, you could tell that there was a strong bond forming there.

“So our little boy is doing well,” you tease the blond man in front of you. 

Nanami blushes slightly but keeps his composure, “Itadori-kun shows promise. Despite the brash way he charges into battle, he is a kindhearted young man.”

Just those words paint such a beautiful picture. You can’t help but fantasize about family movie nights with Itadori coming over and snuggling between you and your husband. You coo softly at the way Nanami is describing the young sorcerer.

You finish up your meal, thanking the blond sorcerer in front of you. Nanami smiles, and this one is a genuine smile. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to hear you thanking him for dinner as well. He was planning on asking you out, strictly as co-workers of course. He doesn’t want you finding out about the feelings that are building so deeply inside of him. If it were up to him, he would have married you quite some time ago.

“I’ve got this paperwork to finish up, then I’m training Kugisaki-san.” You explain to Nanami, and you watch as he wipes his hands on the wet wipe provided by the take-out place.

“I’ve got to get back to training as well with Itadori-kun.”

There’s a silence that falls between you both. Your heart is racing in this moment. You just want to jump over this desk and pin him to the ground. You want to press kisses all over his beautifully chiseled face until there’s red lipstick prints everywhere. But you do no such thing. The two of you exchange a smile and a glance, and it’s almost the kind that suggests you’re both part of an inside joke that the whole world is excluded from.

“How about after work we head to our favorite pub for dinner?” Nanami suggests, praying his tone isn’t too hopeful.

You smile, “That sounds nice. It would be good to get out. It’s been a little bit since we’ve been out.”

He nods, “Yes, I was just thinking that.”

The two of you get up, and Nanami throws the trash from your lunch into the garbage can that’s next to your desk. As you come around the desk, he wishes he could just take your hand in his and walk you outside to the training ground. Instead you both walk side by side and chat lightly about work. 

It’s a mundane feeling for the both of you, but it isn’t boring. It’s sweet and domestic, and everyone knows that you two are pretty much attached at the hip. But yet there always seems to be something keeping you held back from actually making this work relationship into a real one.

You spot Itadori and Kugisaki awaiting the two of you, the pair seem to be gossiping. You always loved the way those two had grown so close, and yet…you wondered if maybe they had something similar going on that mirrored your own relationship with Nanami. You looked at Kento, smirking playfully.

“You sure you won’t be too tired to take your poor wife out to dinner tonight?” You practically purr in his ear.

Nanami shudders, “Please, have a bit more faith in your sweetheart, dear.”

Just the sound of his voice calling you dear has you wondering if you should just confess right here and right now. You want to tell him how badly you have fallen head over heels for him, but you also wonder if that’s just not the right choice. You look at him once more, and you lean in the smooth the collar of his shirt and the lapels of his jacket. His heart skips a beat when you’re this close to him.

“Well, I suppose I have faith in an old man like you.” You rib him, laughing at his reaction.

“You’re three months older than me.” He says, a smirk spreading on his face.

You groan, “Please, don’t remind me.”

You two begin walking over to the first years you’re responsible for. With a final promise to go out for dinner, you part ways. It’s only then you hear Itadori asking your work husband.

“Nanamin, are you sure you and her aren’t actually married?”

[runnning-outof-time]

The first of a few :)

Tommy- (3 word sentence prompt) “Happy or Sad?”

Thanks for sending this in Liz! I’m sorry it took me a bit to get to writing it. This is a COMPLETE flip from the fic I shared earlier haha. Also I have to say that the bit at the end was inspired by the lovely Bri @there-goes-thefighter ‘s latest Tommy fic ‘Your Shadow Side’…it’s a bit different here, but the idea was stuck in the back of my mind nonetheless. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration - find other stories here!

Bedtime Stories

Tommy Shelby x Reader & Daughter

Warnings: none

Word Count: 797

Summary: Tommy gets asked a question that leaves him speechless while he’s telling his daughter a bedtime story.

“I want daddy to tell me a story tonight!” Isabella Shelby exclaimed, stamping her foot on the ground as she looked up at her mother. Her little hands were balled up into fists, and the glare on her face was one that could even rival her father’s. Wonder who she got it from?

(Y/N) sighed and looked away from her four year old daughter, at her wits end now. It had been a long day. Isabella woke up in a grumpy mood, so everything had been a fight with her. On top of that, Matthew, her two year old son, had just figured out how to get into things, so she’d been following him around the house to make sure he didn’t hurt himself or break anything.

“Dad’s busy with his work at the moment, darling,” she tried to reason with the child.

Isabella did not listen. “I’m going to go ask him,” she insisted, turning on her heel then so that she could make her way down the hall to the door of her father’s office.

(Y/N) stayed in the hallway, her arms crossed over her chest as she heard the muffled exchange between her husband and child. A look of surprise formed on her face when Isabella emerged triumphant from the office moments later with Tommy following behind her. She’s wrapped around his finger, (Y/N) thought to herself with soft laugh.

“Time for bed?” Tommy questioned as he approached (Y/N), chuckling at the fact that Isabella had walked right passed her without a word.

“It is,” (Y/N) responded with a nod, her eyes wide as she conveyed her exasperation to him. Tommy sent her a soft grin before he continued to follow his daughter to her room.

Once Isabella was settled, Tommy got into telling an elaborate story about a princess who had to go and save her darling dog from the grasps of an evil king — they’d just taken in Cyril and the little girl was obsessed with all things related to dogs. Isabella listened intently to the story, reacting to all of the twists and turns that it had. That was the thing she loved most about her dad’s bedtime stories: no one was the same. (Y/N) swore that he could have made a career in writing them…if he hadn’t went down other paths that is.

“We’re reaching the ending now, love,” Tommy warned his daughter as he took a moment’s pause. A pout formed on Isabella’s face; she didn’t want the story to be over yet. “I need to ask you about the ending…”

“What about it?” Isabella interrupted before he could get to the question, her eyebrows furrowing as she titled her head slightly.

“Happy or sad?” he asked, his brows raised as he waited for her answer.

“Happy,” the little girl answered without second thought. Tommy nodded and prepared to end the story. Isabella spoke again before he could get a word out, “who would ever choose sad?” she asked, her question one of the most genuine ones Tommy had ever heard.

“I…” he began to answer, but his words died in his throat as he really thought about the question she asked. He shook his head and ran his hand along his jaw, trying to think of a response that was worthy of such a question. “Someone who isn’t quite sure what happy is, I’d guess,” he finally responded, not sure if what he decided on was even good enough.

Isabella thought about it for a second, her pondering starkly present in her facial expression. “Well that isn’t us, right, daddy?” she then sweetly asked, her doe eyes finding his again.

In that moment, all the bad that Tommy Shelby had done was washed away. All the struggle and strife, the bad blood and the tunnels were the furthest thing from his mind. Now all that was present was the world that his darling daughter was imagining. One that only held good, one where everything ended happy. He was so thankful for her innocence, for the light that she brought into his life.

The slightest smile graced his lips as he shook his head ever so slightly. “No, love…that isn’t us,” he answered her as he sat a loving hand on her blanket covered knee. His smile grew with each second their eyes stayed connected, and he thanked whoever was mainf decisions in the sky for giving him this beautiful little girl.

“Are you gonna finish the story, dad?” Isabella asked, cutting through Tommy’s thoughts and bringing him back to reality.

Her expectant look made him laugh as he nodded his head. “Yeah, I’m gonna finish the story,” he answered her before going on with the happy ending she’d asked for.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @areyenotfondofmelobster @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[queenie-avenue]

Sent from Below, Fell from Above. [pt.1] [pt.2]

—> if angels can fall, demons can rise.

⤻ reader is a female, reader is a bunny-type angel(?), canon-typical cursing, very bad use of 1920s slang, heavily inspired by @jazjelspen 's angel baby fic, death, betrayal, mentions of racism, abuse of men against women and sexism, angst, spoilers for all of hazbin hotel season one, flashbacks

notes: a rather long one, and wrote another small verse for readers to sing. I wrote it while slowing down the melody in Emily and Charlie's parts.

💌 ⤻ archives.

You walked into the broadcasting room, your heels clacking against the clean floor as you looked about before acknowledging that someone was already there.

"Ah, are you my newest assistant?" The man seated there had the widest grin on his face as he sat there, legs slightly spread apart as you gulped, nodding your head so meekly. Ah, to be human again, when you were too scared to even raise your head. "Haha, that's wonderful, my dear. I was told you had quite the resume. Most impressive for a young lady." You nodded your head. "Very... very impressive indeed." He smiled at you.

"You are impressive too, sir." You quipped.

"Oh?" He tilted his head.

You blushed as he narrowed his eyes at you. "Both of us... we- we're not exactly what society deems as... correct."

"Is that why you're working here? You relate to me?" The creole man asked, leaning against his chair as he tapped a lanky finger on his desk.

"No." You shook your head, your wild hair shaking alongside you. "I admire you. I want to be like you. I imagine it must have been hard for to get to where you are now." You spilled your heart out to this man, because for years, you admired how someone that was meant to be pushed out of what society deemed 'right' managed to rise to the top, to become a striking star in the radio world. "So I'm here because I want to learn how to become a star, just like you."

His eyes widened as you faced him with that determined look on your face.

"What a bright young woman." He rose up from his seat, sauntering his way towards you as you stood there, waiting.

Alastor grabbed your hand, bowing down as he looked up at you, that sweet grin on his face. "Alastor, my dear, pleasure to meet you." He said, before sealing your fate with a kiss on your hand. "I hope that we can get along well." You gazed at him with wide eyes, your eyes raking over his bronzed skin and brown — almost red — hair. Glasses lined his gleaming eyes.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

"Hey, bitch! I'm talking to you over here!" Adam's voice rang throughout your head as your head snapped up to meet the first man on Earth. You frowned.

You never liked Adam. He was stuck-up, and you had heard the stories of how badly he treated Lilith and Eve, it reminded you of your high-school friends who unfortunately fell into the hands of those abusive men they had to marry. Adam had the same air as them, just less... smart.

"You want me to show up to the trial?" You repeated.

"Yes!" Adam yelled.

"I don't mind. That demon princess annoys me a little. I don't understand why she's trying to redeem a murderer like him." You hissed. The fact that girl — who probably knew of his sadistic nature — associated with him, left a bad taste in your mouth. Though wrath was a sin, you felt resentment and wrath for Alastor, and envy for how he did not seem to regret any of his actions that led him to hell in the first place. Meanwhile, you had to deal with the nightmares that came with being killed. For the first years in Heaven, you woke up in cold sweat as you remembered the knife that went through your heart.

"Well then, babe," you disliked Adam, but a temporary truce would be fine. "Let's start heading there, shall we?"

You nodded and unflapped your wings.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

You flew up to the seat beside Adam, eyes narrowed as you watched Alastor promenade in with the Princess of Hell and that girl you still had no idea about. The way he walked was still the same as it had been years ago.

You met eyes with Alastor, mustering all your courage to send a look of malice his way, as Sera announced the beginning of court.

"We are gathered here today to determine whether or not a soul in Hell can be redeemed to the Heavenly Realm by means of this Hazbin Hotel." Oh, you just knew Alastor named that Hotel, he always did have a sick sense of humour. You almost snorted at the name too, but refrained from doing so.

Adam nudged you. "Now." He practically hissed. Out of spite, you almost didn't stand up.

"Objection!" You said as you stared down at the Princess, then at Sera. "I apologise for interrupting you, your royal highness." You looked down at her, then up at Sera, who glared at Adam, instinctively knowing it was his idea to rope in the innocent you into his plans. "I understand that as a Winner, I typically have no say in how Heaven runs things." You summoned up all your might as you met Sera's eyes, utilising all that courage you had back as Alastor's assistant into your heavenly body. "But I must disagree on the type of people the Princess of Hell is trying to redeem." You pointed a finger at Alastor, his eyes widening in amusement as you accused him.

"This man, I knew him from when I was alive, my heavenly council." You looked at all the archangels and others that gathered around. "He was the man who killed me. A notorious serial murderer from when I was alive. More of his victims are no doubt here too, maybe some in hell. But what doesn't change the fact is that someone as dangerous as him," You pointed your finger at Alastor again, your face turning red as he simply tilted his head towards you, like a gentleman greeting a lady. The council gasped as they all whispered about, some glaring down at your murderer. For once, you felt like justice was being served for how abruptly your life had ended in Alastor's hands."Does not belong in Heaven after all the souls he has killed in his time in the living. No matter how much he repents, taking away another human's soul is an unforgivable crime!" You exclaimed.

The rest of the council agreed, as the Princess and the girl beside her looked about, frantic. Alastor simply smiled up at you, his little bunny.

"Order in the court." Sera said, attempting to calm everyone down after you riled them up with your voice.

"You've always been such a good public speaker, my little bunny." You saw red, he dared to call you that intimate nickname in front of the Heavenly Court? After you had revealed his crime to everyone to see?

It seems that Alastor's nerve had not died with him.

"Why is he even here?" You questioned Charlie, your fiery gaze never leaving the trio below you.

"I am the host of the hotel, my dear!" Alastor said, "I should be here to support my fellow colleagues in their endeavours. What kind of co-worker — let alone friend — would I be if I let them defend their case on their own?"

You were about to speak when you were interrupted by that Princess.

"In the Hazbin Hotel, we believe that everyone can be redeemed!" The Princess exclaimed despite the loud voices drowning her out. "Please, you have to listen!"

"You don't even have evidence that this Hotel can work. If you do, we'd be glad to see it!" Adam responded sarcastically, challenging Princess Morningstar.

"We have a patron that is showing incredible progress." She said.

"Who?"

"Don't tell me it's him." You glared at the Princess, daring her to confirm your doubts.

"Angel Dust!" What an odd name.

"Oh yeah! The porn demon, he's totally worth being redeemed." Adam blew a Raspberry at them. That was... immature. Still, your cheeks almost flamed scarlet as Adam gave you context for who and what this sinner the Princess referred to was.

"Well, if you know so much, what do you think it takes to get into heaven?" She pointed at Adam as your eyes widened. You had never thought about this before but... what did a person need to do to get into heaven? Did they need to be perfect? Because if so, you certainly belonged in Hell. Then, you remembered Alastor and your mood soured to think that you might have been in the same spot as him.

What was even more shocking was when Adam began to get flustered, flabbergasted by Charlie's question as Sera inquired as to whether Adam was okay. You watched even more shocked as Adam cursed at Sera and began to scribble nonsense onto a paper and sent it down to the girl. You caught a glimpse of the paper and your eyes widened.

"Are you fucking serious?" The ashen girl by the Princess' side asked, and honestly, that was your reaction too.

Adam snapped his fingers as Charlie challenged him, your eyes narrowing as an orb of light began to reflect, glowing bright before showcasing a bunch of sinners... partying? Was that how partying looked nowadays?

"Heavenly people, what more do you need to see? The pornstar chose a night of debauchery, that's not a soul worthy of being redeemed!" You side-eyed Adam. He had done way more debaucherous stuff than you cared to admit, and plus, if not partying was one of the factors for how you could get into heaven, the parties Alastor dragged you to would have caused you to plummet to Hell already.

"Are you telling me you never had a drink with friends after a hard day?" The Princess was right.

Thankfully, Sera was much more forgiving and less stupid than Adam, considering that she eventually allowed the Princess of Hell to continue. Still, you glared at Alastor, annoyed that you and Adam's ploy to get everyone so worked up over the serial killer in the room had not worked.

If the type of people the Princess of Hell, Charlotte Morningstar, wanted to redeem was a serial murderer, you would never accept the idea of redemption.

Alastor did not deserve such happiness.

You continued to watch, and the more you watched, the more you empathised with this Angel Dust... the more you felt inclined to care for him. You felt your heart — that you had assumed turned to stone for the sinners down in hell — slowly soften into clay for this sad man. Yet, despite how sad he clearly was, he was so strong. Stronger than anyone you had ever seen.

"See! He did everything on your list! He was selfless, he stopped Nifty from stealing and stuck it to that Moth man!" Charlie exclaimed, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

"Well, b- then why isn't he here then!" Adam sputtered out. "Hm?"

"Why isn't he here?" Emily and You said in unison.

"Wait, none of you know what gets someone into Heaven?"

The rest of the conversation was a blur to you as you struggled with the idea that you had no idea why you were in Heaven. If you had done one wrong thing... would that have condemned you to hell with Alastor?

You had not even comprehended the fact that they had started debating their ideas in song till Lute who was seated beside you, began to insult the sinner that all of you had been observing. Your eyes had solely been focused on Alastor the entire time, but theh quickly shot to Lute.

"What are we even talking about? Some crack whore who fucked up already! He blew his shot like the cocks in his mouth, this discussion is senseless and petty!" Lute sang, and you almost reached out for her, to not say such crude things in front of the Heavenly council and certainly to not insult a victim of abuse. Yet Lute and Adam flew away first and you frowned even deeper.

"Gotta say I can't wait to-"

"Adam." You turned to Sera.

"Come down and exterminate you!" Your eyes widened as you realised the severity of this situation. You now understood why this Princess was fighting so hard for this hotel.

Adam was killing the sinners.

He was no better than Alastor. No, even worse. Adam slaughtered an entire group of people without mercy. You felt bile rise up from your throat as they continued to sing, the tunes of their voice banging against your ears.

"Whoops!"

"Guess the cat's out of the bag!"

"What's the big deal?"

They didn't even see what was wrong with what they had said. You almost stumbled back thanks to shock and your absurdly long dress. Your entire world was sent into a frenzy as you felt so disgusted with yourself, for thinking that you could work with Adam, for siding with Sera and Adam — though briefly — for the idea of extermination. You felt yourself fall back, but someone was there to catch you.

Alastor's shadows manifested behind you, holding you close to his chest. "Be careful, Sweetheart." He said, helping you regain your balance as you felt too much anger with yourself to be angry at him.

"If Hell is forever, then Heaven must be a lie!"

"Emily-"

"If Angels can do whatever and remain in the sky! The rules are shades of grey, when you don't do as you say, when you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again!"

Their words resonated with you, and you found your heart thumping to the melody of the song.

"Don't look there." Alastor whispered as a red hand came up to your face, covering your eyes. "I don't like to see you stressed, my darling." The warmth of his hand felt like that time when he had surprised you on your birthday, covering your eyes before revealing the cake he had bought and the decorations he had put up for you.

Despite how he covered your ears, you could hear the court arguing amongst themselves.

That's when you heard it.

Sera's voice boomed throughout the entire court, facing the sinners with a verdict. "I'm sorry, but this court finds that there is no evidence souls in Hell can be redeemed."

"Oh fuck yes! I win, suck it, bitches!"

"You better save the date cunts, because we're coming to your hotel, first." That's when Alastor manifested in front of them, his shadows pushing Adam back, almost causing him to topple over.

"Not a very clever idea, chum, it's rude to curse at ladies." Alastor warned, the shadowy tentacles slithering about, ready to attack Adam.

"Ugh, son of a bitch!" Adam cursed as he grabbed out his guitar. "Or maybe, I can just kill you fuckers now." He took out his guitar-axe and in a flash of light, you flew towards them, shielding the trio from Adam's strikes with your wings. Adam flew back when his guitar-axe made contact with your angelic wings, enchanted by a spell that slammed Adam and Lute back, crashing into the wall.

"Just because you're a winner, does not give you the privilege to harm someone else!" You yelled, never having such a fit of rage in your life as you spread out your wings. You were a bunny; prey, never the predator. But as you spread out your Enchanted wings, you felt yourself grow angrier as you thought of how Adam — that sadistic motherfucker — no doubt killed multiple sinners. Sinners who were just like Angel Dust, misguided, but deserving of redemption.

"Are you seriously defending them right now, you crazy bitch?" Adam grunted as he glared at you.

"I'm defending the principle of it." You hissed.

Sera and Emily looked down at you. Sera, in particular, had a sour look on her face.

"You say that demons cannot be redeemed to Heaven, but why can Angels fall?" You questioned. "Lucifer himself, was once an angel, God's favourite angel!"

"If angels can fall, then why can't demons rise?" You looked towards the Heavenly council as you sang. "After this, will you really believe all their lies?" You questioned through song as Adam got up, knowing you had little time to convince the court. "The rules aren't black and white, who decides what's wrong and right? Can you say that this is justice when you kill them again?" You sang, pleading for the court to just look past their prejudices.

Just then, you heard a snap of Adam's fingers as a portal emerged from behind all of you. "No!" You yelled when you noticed how the portal was leading to a red fiery pit you assumed was hell, but before you could even protest, you had been pushed in by Lute, causing the rest of the four of you to stumble back down into hell.

tags: @duckydinglers @ghostdoodlen @belletifeshyl

[blackshadowswriter]

Kneel At The Altar┃Matt Murdock

Summary: The one in which the Devil fucks you at the altar.

Warnings: blasphemy? (because I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to fuck in church), reader (me) having very unholy thoughts about Matt in church and Matt acting on those unholy thoughts, little bit of exhibitionism, smut: dom!Matt, kinda rough p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), teasing, edging, praying while Matt eats you out AND fingers you (???), choking kink, praise kink, spanking, some degradation, marking, multiple orgasms, some overstimulation, dirty talk (not particularly in that order)

God, if you're reading this, stop here, it isn't for you bby 😘

Words: 7,691

AN: Would you believe me if I said that this fic idea formed in my head WHILE I was in church? I'm not even kidding, I got dragged to church, and I literally thought up this fic while sitting in church, half-listening to a sermon. This fic has been sitting in my drafts for a while now, and I guess the wait was worth it because I bring you 7k words of pure sin. My content warnings have never been this long before, and that's probably not a good sign (or it's a very, very good sign)

Tagging my wonderful @farfromstrange because you also inspired me to finish this, and our horny enthusiasm for this fic kept me going, ily sm girl 🖤

As you knelt in front of the altar on your hands on knees with tears in your eyes and the Devil himself between your legs, you wondered how you had gotten yourself into this predicament. 

It had started out so innocent: dear Matthew asking you to go to mass with him, swaying you with his plea of "I don't want to go alone, sweetheart, please" and that drowned puppy look in his eyes. For someone who couldn't see out of them, Matt could express a great deal of emotion in his eyes. 

You agreed to accompany him to Sunday morning mass and returned the victorious grin that had spread across his face with a fond one of your own. You weren't usually one for religious settings like this, but it was worth it to see Matt in that black suit with the white dress shirt—one of your favorite outfits on Matt. 

Half of the sermon fell on your deaf ears as most of your attention was on Matt, studying his gorgeous side profile and that stubbled jawline that you loved kissing when he fucked you. God, it felt even better between your legs. The thought of that sent heat flaring across your body as you squeezed your thighs together. 

Besides you, Matt cleared his throat quietly, nudging you in your side, undoubtedly guessing where your thoughts had gone. A faint blush rose to your cheeks when you saw that Matt's jaw was clenched tightly, a sign you had come to know meant that he was trying to control himself. The sight of that only spurred on further thoughts of Matt losing control and fucking you right there. 

Matt let out a quiet but ragged breath, and you knew he could smell the arousal between your thighs. His grip on his cane was so tense that his knuckles had turned white, his scars visible against his trembling fist. Your mouth went dry as you remembered those knuckles buried inside of you as you moaned for him just a few nights ago. Thighs clenching even tighter together, you bit back a grin at Matt's low hiss of your name. 

Subtly, Matt adjusted his pants next to you, and the discomfort on his face made you stifle a laugh. The quiet growl Matt rumbled in warning did nothing to dissuade you. You could feel the heat of Matt's body pressed against yours and bit your lip, recalling how it felt against your bare skin. 

Your fingers started to creep towards Matt's thigh, lightly skimming up and down the side of those muscular thighs that always caged you in when he knelt on top of you in bed. Faster than you could blink, Matt's hand flew towards you and caught your wrist in his tight grip. 

"Not here, for God's sake," he hissed in your ear. 

"Funny you'd phrase it like that," you murmured in amusement. 

Matt turned to glare at you behind his opaque red glasses, but the way he had to fold his hands across his lap to maintain some semblance of his Good Catholic Boy image in church (which you had come to realize was a total façade) told you he wanted it as much as you did. 

You should probably listen to him and stop before anything happened. What was the punishment for getting handsy in God's house again? You had a feeling you didn't want to know. 

But there was the slight thrill of excitement shooting through you at the risk of doing this in pubic. A sly grin slid across your lips as you tilted your head towards Matt's ear, letting your hair fall forward in a way that would seem to onlookers as though you were merely whispering something to him. Instead, you nipped at his neck right below his ear where you knew he was sensitive. Matt's entire form, every inch of thick muscle and power stiffened at the contact, and you heard him give the smallest, tinniest groan that no one other than you would be able to hear.  

Matt growled your name in warning, but there was no denying the lust burning in his dark eyes. His blank gaze had landed somewhere around your lips, and you wondered if he really was going to give into desire and kiss your right there. 

But then everyone started to rise around them to sing the closing songs, and the sudden movement snapped both of you out of whatever horny haze you had been in. You stood like everyone else, shoulders pressed together, forced to ignore the blatant lust coiling in both of you.

For now.

═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ ═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ ════════ 

"I'm going out," Matt whispered to you sometime late at night as you laid curled in bed with a book in hand while the shadow of the Devil stood behind you. 

At his words, you shut your book and rolled over to face him, eyes roving over the skin-tight black suit through which you could practically see every single ab. His black mask was held in one hand while the other came up to cradle your face gently. As much was you enjoyed Matt in his black lawyer suit, you decided that you enjoyed Matt even more in his black Devil suit when you could run your fingers across his broad chest and feel the almost burning heat of his skin underneath. 

You tilted your head up to study Matt's face. Whenever his mask was on, cloaking so much of his face in black, he felt like a phantom shadow that could disappear if you closed your eyes for a second too long. There was something sharp and fiery and dangerous about him.

You didn't mind of course. In actuality, you enjoyed it—enjoyed the danger of dancing with the Devil. 

"Okay," you said, sitting up to press a kiss to his soft lips. "Stay safe." 

"I will," he murmured, brushing his calloused fingers across your temple. "Stay in the apartment. Wait for me when I get back." 

You knew that voice—that low, possessive tone that dripped with promise for what was to come. A knowing smirk flitted across your lips as you hooked your legs around his waist to pull him nearer. "Yeah?" you challenged. "And what are you going to do when you get back?" 

Matt chuckled softly, and even though the mask was off, that sound right there was purely the Devil speaking. "Oh sweetheart," he purred. "That's only for me to know, isn't it?" 

That low, raspy voice he used rekindled that fiery want that had burned so dangerously in you hours earlier. By the time Sunday morning mass had been over, Foggy and Karen had called you both over for lunch in the office. The rest of the day had went by as normal with neither of you acknowledging what had transpired in the church outside of his promising smirks and your light, teasing touches ghosting across his body. 

Now, however, with the Devil ready to be unleashed, there was nothing stopping that eager, burning desire rearing its head in both of you.

Nothing except Matt's duty to the city. 

Fucking morals. You could just stay with me in bed, you thought about telling him. You might even be able to cajole him into staying if you could rile him up enough.

But no. You understood Matt's commitment to Hell's Kitchen even if you weren't too fond of the fact he got beat up every night. Still, it would be cruel to ask him to stop what he did just for you, just so he could hear the cries of those who needed him going unanswered in the merciless shadow of the night.

You weren't above asking for a little taste of his promise, however. "Tell me," you begged softly. "Tell me what you want to do to me."

That sharp grin was still on his face. "When I come back," Matt whispered in your ear, "I am going to fuck you into this mattress so hard that you won't be able to keep quiet." His fingers danced down the nape of your neck lightly, and you shivered. "And you're going to be screaming my name so loud, so everyone can hear who you belong to." 

"Oh my God," you whimpered, eyes rolling back at the promise. That heat coiling in your stomach lashed out across your body, spreading through you like a wildfire. It pooled between your thighs, making you clench them tightly together with a soft moan. "Matthew." 

The devilish smile that spread across his lips was absolutely sinful, a promise of the night to come. "But," he rumbled in your ear, his hand reaching down to grasp your wrist as he had in church. "You are not to touch yourself until I come back. Do you understand?" 

You whimpered again. 

"I said," Matt growled, "do you understand me?" 

"Yes," you whined. "But God, Matt, please...I can't wait that long, Matt, please—" 

"You will," he said sharply, "or you'll be punished." He released his harsh hold on your wrist and brought his hand up to trail lightly across your cheek, his tenderness a stark contrast to his rough dominance a few seconds ago. "You can do that for me, can't you, sweetheart? Can't you be a good girl for me? Can't you be a good girl and wait for me to get back to fuck you?" 

Fuck, not the praise. 

Your head fell backwards with a small shuddering moan, eyes falling shut as your thighs squeezed tightly together, a desperate motion to ease the ache in your core. "Matt," you whimpered. "Please." 

His low laugh breezed across your cheek, and Matt's hand disappeared from your cheek. "Be good," came his stern order, and then the radiant heat from Matt's body vanished, leaving you panting and desperate.

By the time your eyes had snapped open, the Devil was gone, melting back into the shadows into the night. 

═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ ═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ ════════ 

You tried. 

Oh God, you truly tried. 

You laid there in bed, body burning with desperate need as you tried not to think about what Matt was planning to do to you lest your predicament worsen. 

You tried to read. You rolled onto your stomach and flipped your book back open, trying to pick up where you left off. It did no good—the words wouldn't permeate the fog of sinful thoughts swarming in your head that screamed Matt, Matt, Matt. 

You thought about disobeying Matt and touching yourself, just to relieve some of that pressure building between your legs but quickly dismissed the idea. Matt would know if you did—he would smell the scent of your arousal on your fingers and instantly know what you had done. Even though the prospect of his punishment was excitement, tonight you didn't think you could stand his merciless teasing. You needed him desperately. 

Eventually, after nearly an hour of lying there, you got out of bed and slipped your shoes on. You would go for a walk around the neighborhood, you decided. The fresh air would help clear your head and calm yourself down. 

At least that's what you told yourself you would say if a certain Devil caught your scent and chased you down. 

And if you were really just hoping that said Devil really would catch your scent...well, that was no one's business, was that? 

═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ ═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ ════════ 

In an interesting twist of irony, you made it as far as the gates of Clinton Church before he caught up with you. 

You thought you had heard him behind you several times as you walked, and you knew he must have been letting you hear his small footsteps and scuffles on purpose. If he wanted to, Matt could move like a giant Devilish cat, leaping across rooftops thought the dark in absolute silence. 

But then you paused in front of the church, staring at the stained glass windows through which you could see the dark interior as you thought about that morning. You didn't even noticed the church doors slowly creeping open in front of your, too caught up in your thoughts. 

Suddenly, a strong arm snaked around your waist and yanked you through the doors into the dark church. The startled gasp that flew from your lips at the quick movement was quickly stifled by a large hand over your mouth, but you weren't afraid. You could feel the familiar, broad line of muscle pressed against your back, his body heat that always burned so warm a comforting feeling after the cold New York air. 

"I told you to wait for me," a low voice hissed in your ear. 

You bit back a grin, the tingle of excitement in your stomach growing stronger. "I was just going out for a walk," you said innocently. 

He growled behind you and dragged you towards the altar through the rows of empty pews. As your feet stumbled along, your eyes darted around the dark interior, sweeping for any sign of company. You shouldn't have been worried though—Matt had far more effectively scoped out the inside already to make sure no one else was there. 

"Kneel," Matt ordered when they reached the altar. 

You obeyed, dropping to your knees in front of the wooden table. The cloth that usually draped across it was absent tonight—perhaps being cleaned or for some other reason. It didn't matter. All that mattered right now was the man pressed against your back. 

"You've been a bad girl tonight," Matt mused, his chest vibrating against your back when he spoke. 

"Well, you were taking so long, so I thought I'd come find you," you replied sweetly, unable to keep the grin off your face this time. 

Matt hadn't told you that you could move, so you kept still in the position he had ordered you in—kneeling in front of the altar facing forward away from the warm frame of muscle and power at your back. Your eyes turned, almost automatically, up towards the massive statue of Jesus hanging from the cross as you silently wondered if Matt really was planning on taking your right in front of that statue. You decided you wouldn't mind if he did. 

Behind you, you could hear Matt pacing quietly, purposefully keeping out of your line of sight. He made a tsking noise. "So impatient," he tutted. "Perhaps I need to teach you the virtue of patience, don't you think, sweetheart?" 

You licked your lips slowly. "What does this lesson on patience include, sir?" you asked, emphasizing the last word with a smirk. 

His sharp inhale carried to your ears, and your grin widened. Your goal tonight was to rile Matt up enough that he would either forget about your disobedience or not care. So far, the plan was going great.

Then, his hand fisted in your hair and yanked your head back. Matt's burning form reappeared, pressed flushed against your back. His hot breath was in your ear suddenly, growling, "I want you to take these off—" his finger curled in the waistband of your pants and snapped them against your waist "—and get on your hands and knees."

When you didn't move at first, he landed a sharp hit to your clothed ass. You yelped, and his hand darted up to cover your mouth.

"Move, sweetheart," he ordered lowly. "And keep quiet. We don't want anyone hearing us here, do we?"

"No," you panted even though you weren't sure if you were telling the truth. His hand released your hair, and you scrambled to obey him, peeling off your jeans and tossing them aside before kneeling how he told you to. The position felt oddly exposed—you could feel cold air breezing across your naked legs and shivered.

"That's better," Matt murmured behind you. His bare hand—when had he taken off the gloves?—brushed against the back of your thigh, and you whimpered, instinctively pressing back against him. This time, when his hand came down your ass, you didn't have the denim of your jeans to protect you. The sound of his hand against the thin material of your panties echoed with a sharp crack through the church. You had to bring a hand up to fist in your mouth to keep quiet from the sting.

"So." He trailed a finger across the back of your thighs lazily, occasionally dipping them down to slide along the soaked fabric of your panties, taking pleasure in each of your hitched breathes. "You want to explain what that was about earlier?"

"I was just going for a walk," you whimpered, desperately arching back into him, but his fingers disappeared the moment you did. The next second, another sharp smack landed on your ass, jolting you forward with a small gasp.

"That's not what I was asking, and you know it," Matt said calmly. "I was talking about this morning."

A feeling of something—you didn't know what that was—ran down your spine, and you shivered, heart rate picking up at the memory of your little dalliance during mass.

"I don't know," you breathed.

Your heart skipped. Lie.

Another harsh strike landed on your ass. "You do."

"Fuck, Matt," you nearly cried, "please!"

"What are you asking for, hm?" Matt murmured, running a large palm over your stinging ass. "Tell me, sweetheart."

"Touch me, fuck me, anything," you begged. "Please, Matt, I've waited so long."

"Then you can wait a little more, can't you?"

"No," you panted, trying not to move, your body on fire. "Matt, please!"

He gave a thoughtful hum, fingers teasing you lightly through the thin fabric of your panties. Your hips bucked back instantly, a sharp whine leaving your throat at the touch. You tried to grind against his hand, but he yanked it away with a low, almost mocking chuckle.

"You've been naughty today, sweetheart," Matt purred. "Having such unholy thoughts in church—don't think I didn't know what you were thinking about. Tell me what were you imagining, hmm?"

Heat rose to your face, melting right along with the fire raging across the rest of your body. "I don't know," you stammered.

"Lie," Matt said, his voice darkly amused. His hand slid underneath your jaw and tilted your head back, so he could press his lips to the shell of your ear. "Were you thinking about me fucking you, sweetheart?"

A ragged moan fell from your mouth, a pulse of heat running across your spine. You let your head fall back against Matt's shoulder, arching back against him. The hand gripping your jaw stroked your cheek gently, a glimpse of softness underneath his dominating exterior.

"Please," you begged quietly. "I need it, Matt. I'll do anything, please..."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

He let out a quiet, considering noise, his fingers absently stroking your jaw with a gentleness that you had come to know precede the roughness. You whimpered quietly, begging him in your head to hurry up and do whatever the fuck he wanted to do so he could just fuck you already. Your body was aching with need, that fire in your raging to be satisfied.

"How well do you remember the Lord's Prayer?" Matt asked you abruptly.

You blinked in surprise. "T-the Lord's Prayer?"

"Yes."

"Um...kind of?" you said uncertainly. "Haven't done it since middle school." You felt the breath from his quiet laughter skate across your earlobe and twitched in anticipation of whatever he had planned.

"Here's what's going to happen," he said slowly, his tone dipping back down into the low timber of his Devil voice, the one that always sent shivers down your spine. "You're going to recite it for me as penance for your sins."

"I didn't—"

"Thinking about the Devil fucking you in church is a sin, sweetheart," Matt cooed. "You're going to need to repent if you want to get what you want."

"Y-you want me to pray."

"Yes."

"Right here. Kneeling in my panties. With you at my back, half grinding on my ass."

A sharp swat landed on your ass. "Hmm, it seems more like you were the one grinding on me," he chuckled lowly, dragging his finger along the seam of your underwear. "As for the panties, God might mind, but I don't think the Devil does. In fact, he prefers you praying like this. Go on, sweetheart. Say your prayer, and maybe I'll think about giving you what you want."

You drew in a shaky breath, trying to clear your head away from thoughts of Matt, fuck me already and remember the words of the prayer. This actually wasn't so bad, you decided. It was a bit of a weird request to pray, kneeling at the altar in soaked panties, but it was fine. All you had to do was recite the prayer, and then hopefully, Matt would be satisfied and finally give in to you.

Oh, how wrong you were.

"Okay," you started to say, the vaguely remembered words coming to the tip of your tongue. "Um...Our Father...who art in heaven...hallowed be...thy name?"

"Keep going," Matt purred in your ear, his hands sliding down from your face to lightly grip your throat for a brief moment, enjoying your shaky groan at the contact. He pushed you back down onto your hands and knees, hand running down to your waist and dragging sensually across your hips.

Whimpering at the touch, you bit your lip and forced the next words out. "Y-your kingdom come....and, um....your will be done—Matt, what are you—?"

For he had just hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and started to slide them down your hips. Your breath caught in your throat at the way the fabric slid against your most sensitive areas. "Don't worry about me," he murmured. "Just lift your legs up for me—there you go. Continue."

What the actual fuck? Did he honestly expect you to be even close to okay after that? He slid your panties completely free of your legs, leaving your soaked heat bare to him. You whimpered at the barely there brush of his fingers against your inner thigh, just a few inches away from where you ached for him most.

"Continue, sweetheart," Matt ordered.

You tried to take another deep breath and continue where you'd left off. "Okay, um...will be done...on—on Earth as it is in Heaven. Uh...give us this day our—fucking hell, Matthew—oh my God, fuck!"

You lurched forward, a strangled cry falling from your lips when you felt Matt's mouth suddenly close around your dripping cunt, tongue lashing mercilessly against your clit so fast and so sharp it nearly hurt. He kept up the torturous pace for a few seconds while you writhed and moaned, pleasure striking like lightning between your legs and arcing up to your back and across your legs. His mouth on you was both a remedy and fuel to the desperate need that had been kindling there all night. Your hands clawed at the carpet underneath you, fire burning across every nerve in your body as you shuddered and cried out for him.

Then, as suddenly as it came, his mouth vanished from your cunt in a heartbeat, and you were left just as empty and desperate as you were a few seconds ago.

"No!" you choked out, voice thick with fading pleasure and need as you tried to grind back against him uselessly. "Matt, please!"

He didn't answer your plea for a few moments, instead dragging his tongue across his lips and moaning softly as the taste of you. God, you were perfection to him, you always were. Matt wanted nothing more than to dive back between your legs and drink from you until you had nothing left to give him.

But half the enjoyment of the catch was the chase, and Matt was not done teasing you yet. He laughed darkly, landing another slap to your ass, gentler this time but no less firm. "I told you to pray, sweetheart," he reminded you. "I told you to pray and repent for your sins. And what do you do? Be a filthy little girl and start moaning for me? In God's house? What a dirty little girl you are."

Your mouth fell open at the sheer audacity of this man to accuse you of such a thing when he just fucking ate you out right in front of the altar. Still, there was no hiding the shudder that rolled through you at his words, and Matt gripped your hips firmer.

"You're going to finish your prayer," Matt ordered. "No matter what happens, and then we'll see if you deserve to get fucked."

"'No matter what happens?'" you repeated in a choked whisper. "Are you—you're not actually going to—"

Another hard hit landed on your ass, the sting only feeding the fire threatening to consume you. "Pray, sweetheart," Matt ordered. "Can't you follow a simple command?"

You swallowed thickly. "Y-yes, I can."

"Good. Then continue."

You whimpered softly, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to ignore the burning, aching need for him between your legs. Where had you even left off on the prayer?

"Give us this day our daily bread," you stammered out. "And—um—forgive us our— oh God!"

Because fuck, his mouth was on you again, hungrily lapping at your cunt as you bucked against him desperately. His hot tongue dragged across your clit, and burning pleasure was scorching every inch of your skin. You threw back your head with a wanton moan when Matt circled the sensitive bud with a quick swipe of tongue that had you writhing in his firm grip.

"Matt!" you cried, molten heat rolling across every nerve in your body. Your hands curled against the carpet, desperately grasping for something to hold on to, to brace you against the raging fire licking at your insides.

Matt paused in his motions, pulling his mouth away for a second, but his finger came to replace his tongue, drawing languid circles on your clit that had you rolling your hips in desperation.

"I told you to pray," he told you again, quiet warning in his voice. "Don't make me remind you again."

A strangled noise fell from your lips. "Y-you keep eating me out, and you want me to pray?" you squeaked.

You didn't have to look back to know he had that feral grin on his lips, the one that always drove you insane. "Oh sweetheart, that was the plan from the beginning."

And his deliciously thick finger plunged into you with a sinfully slick noise that seemed to echo through the empty church like a reminder of the blasphemy taking place at the altar, and then you were writhing, whining, whimpering as Matt fucked you slowly with his middle finger. His purposefully slow, deliberate strokes had you moaning so loud, you thought anyone passing by the church might hear you. Each thrust of his finger inside of you stoked that deep, festering pleasure that burned in your very core, making you arch and cry out to a God too ashamed to answer you.

That was okay, you thought through a thick haze of pleasure. You didn't need God to answer you. You needed the Devil to fuck you.

Matt groaned, his eyes rolling back at the smell of your arousal. He dragged his tongue over his lips, bringing the delicious taste of you from the air into his mouth, heat rippling through him at that new sensation. Painfully hard and throbbing in his pants, Matt panted, desperately drawing another breath in just to drag more of your taste into him. You were exquisite. You were perfect, his good little girl, making such pretty noises for him. You were everything he needed and so much more.

His thumb dragged across your sensitive clit, sending jolts of fiery pleasure stabbing through you as that pressure started to build in your lower abdomen, fire coiling into a tight rope, ready to snap. And oh, there it was, sweet orgasm dancing within reach, so close but so far away. Half sobbing, you arched against him, desperately trying to get him to fuck you faster.

But then Matt's fingers withdrew suddenly, leaving you empty and aching, slick dripping down your thighs as a harsh sob left your chest. The burning edge of orgasm was already fading away. "Matt," you cried, "please! Please, Matt, please, you've been teasing me for so long—"

"Isn't that what you wanted?" he snarled, his hand fisting in your hair to yank your head back, so his lips were right against your ear. "Don't act like you didn't want this, you dirty little girl."

A wanton moan slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, before you could register the embarrassment. "I wanted you to fuck me," you groaned. "I need it, Matt, please."

Abruptly, he released his grip on your hair but not before delivering another harsh swat to your ass. "You want me to fuck you? Then do as I say," he commanded. "I gave you an order, sweetheart, and you still haven't followed it. You better finish that prayer before I decide to give you another punishment for not listening."

"I—I don't—"

Another hit to your ass. "Did you not hear me?" Matt growled, his voice all rough edges and heated ash drifting across your skin. "Or do you just enjoy being a brat?"

This, you thought vaguely, this should be embarrassing. The way he degraded you, the way he called you his dirty little girl, his brat—if it had been any other man, you would've beat the shit out of him. But oh, it was him, it was your Matt, it was your Devil whispering filthy words to you, and every single syllable sent another pulse of heat rolling through you like molten lava.

"This is your last warning," Matt said lowly. "Finish your prayer now, or I'll give you another punishment."

Your brain scrambled to comprehend what he was saying, or at least some part of your brain that hadn't shut down, that wasn't giving in to primal instinct to beg Matt to fuck you. Where the fuck had you even left off?

"...F-forgive us our trespasses as we forgive...our—no, uh, those who trespass against us. And, um, lead us not into temptatio—ah, Matt!"

God, this time it was two of his wonderfully thick fingers pushing into you abruptly, thick heat pulsing through you. Your hips bucked against him instinctively, seeking moremoremore. The words of the prayer died on your tongue, replaced by shameless whimpers and moans as Matt dragged them out slowly and then shoved them back in a harsh thrust, the tips of his fingers barely grazing that spot, deep inside of you. Desperate, keening cries tumbled from your mouth as you threw your head back, gasping and whining.

You—oh God—you needed more. Hot pleasure wormed its way through your body, consuming every other thought until you were left with nothing but primal, wanton need. Your arms trembled as you barely held yourself up, cunt throbbing around Matt's fingers achingly.

This time, when Matt pulled your hair back and snarled in your ear, his fingers didn't leave you. Instead, they continued their torturously slow pace even as he purred, "Finish the goddamn prayer, sweetheart, and don't make me ask again."

You knew better than to protest the unfairness of him making you recite a prayer while he fucked you on his fingers in front of the altar. You could barely summon a thought that wasn't fuck me, Matt, please, but you managed to choke out the next line.

"Deliver us from evil," you sobbed even as Matt brushed his thumb across your clit again, making you jolt at the sharp pleasure racing along the bud of sensitive nerves. "I—ah!—don't know the rest—" you stammered, desperate to reach the end.

"Lie," he chuckled in your ear. "Lie one more time, and that prayer is going to be the least of your problems, sweetheart."

Your head fell back against his hand, eyes falling shut as your needy whimpers echoed along the church walls. His fingers had picked up pace, and now Matt pressed them deep enough to just ever so slightly brush against your g-spot. Even that brief, barely there contact was enough to have you dripping and throbbing on his fingers.

"Finish it," Matt cooed in your ear. "Come on, honey, you're so close."

In both ways, you thought distantly in your muddled mind. "Please!" you cried.

"Finish the last bit, and you can come," he promised.

Well, that changed things. Spurred on by his vow, you blinked harshly, trying to put aside the scorching pleasure arcing through your body for a second.

"For the—the kingdom and—uh something about power and glory—is yours, uh, nowandforeveramen," you rushed out, squeezing your eyes shut, and begging, begging that it was good enough for Matt.

"Hmm," he hummed, considering. Should he make you redo that last bit? Technically it wasn't correct, and how he would love to hear you cry for him if he made you repeat it. But then you ground your hips back, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers with a strangled cry of "please, sir!" And oh, how he could deny that?

Matt didn't reply, but you heard him shifting behind you, the rhythm of his fingers pausing for a second. A half sobbed plea was forming on your lips, but it was chased away in a heartbeat when the glorious wet heat of Matt's mouth closed around your cunt again.

Sinfully loud moans and gasps tore from your throat, your head falling forward. Fiery pleasure almost too much to handle burned between your legs, coursing up through your entire body until your toes were curling and your hands gripping the carpet. Matt lapped at your clit like a man starved, all while his fingers resumed their motions, finally picking up pace, settling into a fast rhythm you so desperately needed.

You were racing towards your climax at a speed that would've been embarrassing if Matt hadn't been edging you all night. "Please," you choked out, tears streaming down your face from the sheer intensity of it all. "Please, Matt, you said I could come, I need it, please—"

And his hand that was holding on to you squeezed your hip, and that was all the confirmation you needed. Wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, Matt curled his fingers inside of you just right, pressing down on that spot, and then you just fell. Off that high cliff you had been dancing to and from for the entire night.

The plummet was truly something else: your back arched, and a ragged cry—almost scream—was falling from your mouth, incoherent noises and words reaching Matt's ears as orgasm surged over you like a tidal wave, knocking you off your feet and dragging you under into a blanket of blissful oblivion. You swore you saw stars popping in the corners of your blurry vision, so much white-hot pleasure burning through you, it was almost incomprehensible.

Matt slowed the drag of his fingers but kept up soft little kitten licks on your clit as you came down until you were twitching and whimpering from the oversensitivity. But he didn't wait for you to fully recover before continuing.

In one swift move, he flipped you over into your back, and you got a glimpse of his powerful form leaning over you, his flushed face, his straining bulge in his pants, his lust-filled eyes burning into you before his mouth crashed against yours in a fiery kiss.

You could practically feel his hunger devouring you from that kiss from the way he claimed your lips, hot tongue pressing into your mouth the second you opened to him. His teeth lightly nipped your bottom lip, and your moan was swallowed by his tongue sliding against yours. Matt groaned into your mouth, his hips grinding down against you.

"Matt," you whined when he broke the kiss to let you come up for air. "Please, I need you."

He growled, the hungry sound nothing short of feral as he dipped his head to suck at your neck. The hot embrace of his mouth at your throat had you keening, tilting your head back for more, which he gave you, his teeth grazed the delicate, vulnerable skin. A low hum rippled through his form before he suddenly sank his teeth into your neck, nipping you hard enough to leave a mark. You gasped, body involuntarily arching up into him as Matt dragged his tongue over the spot he had bit as if soothing it.

"Wanna mark you, sweetheart," he moaned into your neck. "So they know who you belong to."

Jesus fucking Christ. This man was going to be the death of you.

"Fuck me," you begged. "I want it, Matt, please. Mark me, fuck me, make me yours."

Another feral snarl rumbled deep in his chest, and then suddenly, you were lifted up into the air before your back hit a cold, stone table.

Did he just put you on the fucking altar?

You didn't have time to think about that, however, because Matt was hurriedly unbuckling his pants, and the only thought left in your head was finally. Eagerly, you helped him shove those goddamn pants off his hips, licking your lips at the sight of his straining cock in his boxers before you yanked those down too, reveling in Matt's soft whimper. His cock was painfully hard, the tip bright red and slick with his precum that dripped down his throbbing length. The mere sight of his gorgeous cock had you clenching your thighs together as you wrapped your hand around his thigh girth, stroking him softly. The throaty moan of your name he let out sent shivers racing down your spine.

"Sweetheart," he groaned, eyes falling shut.

"Please," you whined, "I need you, Matt. I need you inside me."

"Fuck," he breathed, and his fingers curled around your hips, yanking you forward suddenly. With a gasp, you were dragged across the altar until your legs could wrap around Matt, who was standing right between between thighs, all that thick, powerful muscle cradled between your legs. Matt lined his cock up with your entrance and brought his hand out to cradle your face. "I want to hear you scream for me," he ordered. "I want everyone to hear who you belong to."

You whimpered, nodding frantically. "I—yes, Matt, yes, just please—just fuck me, Matt."

Even like this, flushed, panting, and as obviously needy as you were, he could still manage that cocky smirk as his finger brushed across your lips. "You asked for it," he chuckled and finally, finally pushed himself into you, inch by burning inch.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, your mouth falling open as slowly, he slid his thick length into you, the stretch of him in your cunt welcome after the emptiness of so long. "Matt," you moaned when he finally bottomed out, his ragged groan matching your own. God, he was so big, so thick, seated deep inside of you. His burning body molded perfectly against you, the endless expanse of lean muscle and soft skin glorious underneath your roaming hands.

"You feel so good, sweetheart," he panted, dragging his cock out slowly and sliding back in, his leisure pace driving you mad. "Ah!—fuck—you're so tight, baby."

"Want you," you moaned, arching into him. "Want you to fuck me. Fuck me the way I know you want to, Matt, please."

He let out another ragged groan, the hand cradling your cheek moving down to wrap around your throat, not squeezing but just holding for the time being. "Y-yeah?" he stuttered, trying to sound rough and in control but failing as he swallowed down another eager moan. You loved watching him like this, watching the way he fell apart in front of you, all because of you. "And what's that?"

You wrapped your legs around Matt's hips to let him grind deeper into your cunt, matching his heady pant with a needy whimper of your own. "Y-you wanna fuck me hard," you moaned out. "Could feel it, Matt, could feel the way you want it. Please, I—I can take it, I need you to—oh fuck!—fuck me rough. Take me, Matt, please."

His growl rumbled deep in his throat, and the large hand gripping your throat squeezed just once. Matt dipped his head down to place a kiss on your lips, sweet and gentle one last time as he purred against your mouth.

Then, he braced his other hand next to your head on the altar, and when he dragged his hips back, this time he returned to you with a vicious snap of his hips, slamming his cock back into you. A strangled gasp flew from your mouth as your hands scrambled against the altar surface beneath you, trying to find something to hold onto.

But there was nothing, nothing other than you and Matt and the fast, rough, almost brutal pace he set as he drove himself into you again and again. This pleasure was so much deeper and stronger than before, each delicious drag of his cock against your slick cunt sending sparks careening through your body until your brain felt overloaded with bliss. The sounds you two were making were nothing short of downright filthy: the slap of skin on skin as Matt's hips collided with your thighs, the slick noise of his cock gliding through your obscene wet cunt, the sinfully loud moans falling from both of your lips.

Matt's grip on your throat tightened when you clenched around his cock, and he growled, the sound thick and hazy with lust and need. He picked up his pace even more, fucking you so hard you knew you were going to feel it tomorrow, but you didn't give a shit. Worth it, in your opinion, if it came from Matt Murdock railing you like this.

"Matt," you slurred, half drunk on the pleasure he gave you. He stroked your jaw with his thumb, his blank eyes, dark with arousal and lust, focused somewhere around your lips.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he panted, his hips driving into you with animal-like need. "Y-you feel so good. So wet, so tight just for me. You sound so—fucking pretty getting fucked on my cock."

You whined, writhing beneath him even as his hand not gripping your throat pressed against your waist to hold you down. Every goddamn nerve in your body was screaming, burning, scorching with the pleasure that rolled across your body in throbbing waves. Matt adjusted his grip on your waist, lifting you up every so slightly but oh at that perfect angle that let him hit your g-spot with each thrust of his hips.

Your high moan, pitched almost at a scream, was the result as mind numbing pleasure sparked between your thighs with each harsh thrust. You clenched tighter around Matt, spurring his frantic thrusts on until he was pounding into you at a pace close to brutal, the obscene squelch of his cock diving into your soaked cunt echoing around you like an unholy melody, the chorus being your screams.

Matt leaned over you, panting roughly. You could smell the sweet scent of musk and sex in the air and see the way his pink mouth parted with each heavy breath against your throat. He lowered his head to drag along your cheek until his lips were pressed against your ear.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he groaned. "I can feel you, you're almost there." And you were for the second time that night, you could feel the cloud of your orgasm hovering right above you, pushed closer and closer by each brutal stroke of his cock inside of you.

"Come on, honey, come on my cock," Matt ordered, and you whined. "You're taking my cock so well, all you have to do is come for me. Be my good little girl and come all over my fucking cock."

That was all you needed. Your back arched off the altar, your hands shot out to grab desperately at Matt, your eyes squeezed shut, and your head was thrown back in absolute bliss. This time, orgasm rolled over you slower than the first time but even more intense. It scorched its way through every nerve ending in your body, consuming you like a blanket of fiery heat, making your vision go white. Distantly, you heard yourself scream—actually scream—as you descended into a blank state of pure, utter pleasure.

You could feel Matt's pace growing sloppy and frantic, short, desperate thrusts as he panted and groaned louder and louder until his hips stuttered against yours, and the most beautiful moan you had ever heard left his lips. He emptied himself into you, and you felt his hot seed spilling deep inside of your cunt even as Matt continued to grind into your tightness until every last drop of his spent was buried inside of you. He slumped over your body on the altar, both of your chests heaving in sync as you came down from your highs together.

Finally, Matt lifted his head from your chest and peered at you with his lovely dark eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked uncertainly. "Was that too much?"

You cradled his face in your hands, marveling how this wonderful, wonderful man was yours. "It was perfect," you promised, kissing him sweetly. "It's never too much. I love you, Matt."

"Hmm," he hummed contently into your mouth. "I love you so much, sweetheart. You're sure you're okay?"

"Oh I am absolutely glowing, Matthew. If I had known this is what you meant when you said you wanted me to come to church with you, I would've came ages ago."

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AN: It's been a hot second since I've written full blown smut, so forgive me if it's kinda rusty. Although I feel like I should be asking forgiveness for this whole fic soooo 🤷‍♀️ I wanna say I need to go to church after writing this, but the last time I was in church, I came up with the most unholy smut fic idea ever, so maybe not a good idea (maybe it'll inspire another one though)

If you enjoyed, please remember to like, comment, and reblog! 🖤

My Matt Murdock Masterlist

[e-dubbc11]

LAST ANGST, I SWEAR.

"am I too late?" + "I did care, I used to care" with this hoe:

After this it'll all be sunshine and rainbows 😭😭😭

Hello my lovely friend!

Ok so I know you didn’t ask for this but the prompts you sent in finally inspired me to write a second part to another Matt fic I did called Unforgiven so I’ll leave it linked HERE.

Thank you for sending in a request for this hoe 🤣 I hope it’s ok and thank you for being a part of my follower celebration. You’re a wonderful friend and I love you to pieces.

Unforgiven Part 2

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F! Reader

Warnings: Angst, couple of swear words, mentions of smexy time (18+ please)

Word Count: 3.2K

Summary: Matt had vowed to win you back after you had told him to leave. A new man is one of the obstacles in his way.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Your body temperature had immediately risen when you uttered those four words. “I don’t forgive you.” Matt could feel the heat radiating off of your body and your heart forcefully beating inside your chest. You weren’t sure you had ever been that angry, that hurt, or had your heart broken that badly.

He knew he had hurt you with his lies and secrets but in his heart, he was just protecting you, keeping you safe, and making sure that his nighttime activities weren’t spilling into his everyday life as an attorney, a friend, and a boyfriend.

Although you made it very clear to him that you didn’t want to see him anymore; he was no longer your boyfriend and he could continue to be The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen without having you as a distraction but his secret would be safe with you.

When you told him to go, you tried your best to hold it together, to not let your voice crack or have your tears fall but as soon as he disappeared that night, your tears spilled over and streaked down your cheeks as fresh sobs fled from your throat. Remembering how acute Matt’s hearing was, you knew that he had probably heard you crying while trying to keep your balance as you carefully walked over to close the window Matt had left open.

Your knees gave out just as you reached your bed, you could already feel your eyes start to swell from the tears as you buried your face into your pillow and cried yourself to sleep. You saw Matt in your dreams that night. The man with the kind hazel eyes, soft brown hair, the adorable dimple on his cheek, and red tinted glasses suddenly morphed into the masked vigilante they called The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. His face was close to yours, a black leather glove caressed your cheek as he apologized over and over again for lying to you but even in your dreams you didn’t forgive him.

However, in both the waking world and the dreaming one, it broke your heart to tell him goodbye. You loved him too but some mistakes are not that easy to forgive and you wondered if you ever could forgive Matt or trust him again.

**********

Each day that had passed and you didn’t think about Matt was better than the ones where he rudely invaded your headspace but as the weeks passed, you had more good days than bad ones, and you even started seeing someone new.

But anytime The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was in the news, you wondered if Matt was ok, how many scrapes and bruises did he go home with this time, and probably the one question that had been on your mind the most…Was he seeing anyone new?

It wasn’t supposed to matter. You were seeing someone else so why shouldn’t he? Was he honest with them about his little “side job?” Why were you still thinking about him?

Finally, enough time had passed to where you barely thought about him even if the Devil was mentioned on the news. It passed quickly and you were able to go about your day without Matt lingering among your thoughts. Your relationship with your boyfriend, Nathan, was going well; you were…happy.

At least you thought you were.

And not only did the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen keep his city safe, Matt was keeping you safe also. He never stopped worrying about you walking around the city at night even though you had grown up in Hell’s Kitchen, just like he did. He followed you, listened to your phone conversations, and it broke his heart to hear you were seeing someone else.

The night you made him leave your apartment, he told himself that he didn’t care how long it was going to take because he needed you back in his life. Matt never got the chance to explain to you that no one in his life knew he was the masked vigilante, not even his closest friends.

Every time a criminal was put behind bars whether it be from following the law or breaking it, Matt thought it was one step closer to everyone he loved being safe in the city he cared so much about.

But he quickly realized that when you cut the head off of a snake, two more grow back in its place and he sometimes questioned if it was all worth it or he wrestled with his conscience about the moral obligation and that if he could help, he should help.

Matt continued to do everything he could to ensure your safety and just like every weeknight, he waited patiently for you to get home from work. Nathan had a key so he let himself in so he could wait for you too. Matt could hear your boyfriend on the phone telling the person on the other end that he was going to…propose.

Completely shocked, Matt gripped the fire escape tightly so he wouldn’t fall over. He continued to listen to Nathan’s conversation.

“Yeah, I’m meeting her after work for dinner tomorrow night. I was gonna do it then…of course I’ll let you know how it goes. Plan on being my best man…alright, yeah I’ll talk to you soon. Later.” He said.

Matt drew in a sharp breath and a frown darkened his expression as he choked out the only word he could manage to get out, “No…”

It killed him to know that someone else was the object of your affection, that Nathan made you laugh, and your pulse quickened when you saw him. It also made Matt’s blood boil knowing that Nathan was the one who was kissing you, touching you, and pulling sinful noises from you when he wanted to be the one doing those things.

Nathan said he was meeting you for dinner tomorrow night so Matt decided he would meet you first and it would be the first time that he was on time for a date.

**********

Nathan was meeting you at the same restaurant where Matt had stood you up for the final time. It felt a little strange being there again and you thought the restaurant patrons and wait staff were staring at you like last time, even though they weren’t.

As you sat at the table enjoying your wine, you were looking over the menu when the server told you that Nathan was running a little late but he would be there soon. He texted too in case the server forgot to let you know. He was always very thorough.

Continuing to stare down at the menu, you felt someone sit down across from you. Without looking up from the menu, a slight smile stretched across your lips and you said, “Thank god, I’m starving, I ordered you a glass of wine.”

A voice you hadn’t heard in a long time replied, “Well I prefer whiskey but wine will do.”

You knew that low gravelly voice anywhere. When you glanced up from your menu, Matt had a slight smirk on his face.

“Hello, angel.” He said.

Narrowing your eyes, you clenched your teeth together and replied, “Oh now you decide to show up for dinner, Matthew? What the hell are you doing here?”

“It’s nice to see you too, sweetheart.” Said Matt.

As you angrily sipped your wine, you forcefully closed your menu, and wished Matt could see how furious you were but he knew without seeing your face. He detected changes in your breathing, how your pulse quickened, he was even close enough to inhale your scent but it wasn’t your perfume.

Seeing him again brought back a flood of emotions…anger, humiliation, sadness but also you were reminded of how attractive he is, the soft sexy tone to his voice, and just the way he made you feel inside.

How could he still have this hold over you? Maybe you never really gave up that hold in the first place.

“You know you can’t just flash that dimple at me and I’ll fall at your feet, Murdock. It doesn’t work that way. Besides…I’m with someone else now.” You said, sternly.

Looking quite nervous, Matt adjusted his glasses, licked his bottom lip and finally asked, “Am I too late?”

“Matty, I just said I’m with someone else now.” You replied, immediately regretting calling him by his nickname.

It took a long time for you to become emotionally stable after Matt left. There were a lot of tears and sleepless nights and it wasn’t because you didn’t love him.

You loved Matt more than anything but he was the one person that you trusted the most and he had been lying to you from the very beginning of your relationship so how could you be sure he wouldn’t do it again?

“But he didn’t ask you yet.” Matt said assertively.

Confused, you replied, “Ask me what? And how do you know Nathan is gonna ask me something? Have you been spying on me?!!”

The tone of your voice went from confused to angry.

“You can’t marry him, sweetheart.” Said Matt in barely more than a whisper as to not draw any attention to your table.

Again, confused, you replied, “Ok first of all, I’m not marrying anyone and second, I know you know something Matt because you wouldn’t have said that, otherwise. You weren’t honest with me before so you either answer my questions truthfully NOW or get the hell outta here. Understand?”

Firmly, Matt said, “I understand, y/n.”

You started your interrogation.

“Have you been following me, Matthew?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you spy on me with your bionic hearing when I’m at home?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever been listening during any…intimate moments?”

Matt’s body tensed and bit back what he wanted to say.

“Do you need me to repeat the question, counselor?” You asked.

“Only once and as soon as I heard what was going on, I left, ok?” He finally said.

You tried to stop yourself from smiling and enjoying yourself but you couldn’t.

“And in your opinion, what did you determine based on what you heard?”

A devilish smirk stretched across his lips and he leaned in closer so you could hear him better.

“That he doesn’t make you come nearly as hard as I do.”

Forcefully clenching your thighs together, you bit back a strangled moan as you remembered seeing stars each time Matt pulled an orgasm from you. He had never been selfish in bed;you would give him that.

You had to pull yourself together as you still had more questions for him.

“Why did you feel like you couldn’t tell me about your extracurricular activities?” You asked.

“I thought it would be best if you didn’t know and I could keep you out of harm’s way. I thought I could keep it separate from my regular life. No one knew about it, sweetheart…not Foggy, not Karen, no one.” Matt said.

You said, “Is that supposed to make me feel better? That no one else knew? People care about you, Matt. You shouldn’t keep secrets from your friends, that’s why they’re your friends. Or from the person you love.”

“That’s why I came to you that night because I wanted to tell you first. I did care, I used to care about keeping everyone out of that life. I didn’t want anyone else to carry that secret but it kept getting harder to separate the two and I didn’t want to push anyone else away.” He said.

“You can only walk into a wall so many times before we start to question things, Matt.” You said.

He smirked again and replied, “Well I am blind, angel.”

One side of your mouth curled into a slight smile. Matt always knew how to get you to smile.

Over the past several months, you learned holding onto the anger and hurt you felt after Matt left wasn’t good for you, mentally or physically. You had to forgive him and let it go. You would never forget what he did but you could forgive him for it and understand why he did it.

“I am sorry, y/n. I tried to prevent you from getting hurt but I hurt you anyway.” Said Matt.

He turned and tilted his head slightly, listening intently at something only he could hear.

“What? What is it?” You asked.

“Your boyfriend is coming; I hear him talking to the host and yes he is going to ask you to marry him. I heard him on the phone yesterday telling someone about it.” Matt said, quickly.

There were so many thoughts overwhelming your brain. Obviously you still had feelings for Matt and they never truly went away to begin with. This was also the first time you had thought about Nathan since Matt sat down at your table and now he’s telling you about a proposal.

What were you going to do?

“All I ask sweetheart is that you really think about it. Shit, he’s coming. I gotta go. I love you.” Matt said as he grabbed his cane and walked away before you could respond.

“Who was that?” Asked Nathan.

You shrugged and replied. “I don’t know. But he’s blind and was asking for help back to his table.”

**********

You could never go back to that restaurant again after what you’ve experienced there.

The first time was when Matt had left you to sit alone waiting for him to show up but never did and the second time was telling Nathan that you couldn’t marry him.

Overstimulated was an understatement compared to what you were feeling and didn’t feel like walking home so you called an Uber. The ride home let you decompress a little which left you emotionally and physically drained. The stairs up to your apartment seemed to multiply with each step you took and all you wanted to do was take your shoes off and drink a glass of bourbon.

As soon as you opened the door, a gentle breeze pushed the curtains away from the windows and hit your cheeks as you dropped your keys into the bowl by the door.

You didn’t remember leaving the window open or leaving all of the lights off.

“Matty?” You called out, holding your can of pepper spray.

His unmistakable gravelly voice answered you.

“Hey sweetheart. You can put your pepper spray away.” He joked.

Matt removed the black hood from his face as you flicked on the lamp and he walked over to the couch to sit down.

“You wanna drink? Or are you ‘on duty?’” You asked.

Matt smirked in your direction.

“Can I just have a sip of yours?” He asked.

“Very funny, Matthew. I need a whole glass tonight so you either have your own or none. What’s it gonna be?” You asked in a semi-scolding tone.

He chuckled.

“Ok, then pour me one too, angel.” He said.

Hearing him call you “sweetheart” and “angel” again gave you butterflies like it always did to hear him say those words.

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I said yes?” You asked.

Matt chuckled again.

“Well, if you had said yes, I don’t think you would be here…alone.” He said.

Matt always knew how to make you smile and frustrate you at the same time.

You grazed his fingers as you handed him his glass of whiskey. The same thick talented fingers he used tirelessly to work you into a frenzy, that had you begging him to fuck you until your vision went white and you couldn’t see straight.

Matt wasn’t wrong when he said that Nathan didn’t make you come as hard as he did. And what he didn’t know was that Nathan never did. Sure, he got the job done but it was never the way it was when you were with Matt.

Obviously, it wasn’t just about the sex. And it wasn’t that Nathan was a bad guy; he just wasn’t…Matt.

“Then you would be correct, counselor.” You said, taking a sip of your bourbon as you pulled your feet up into the chair you were sitting in.

Matt’s eyes were wide and you could hear the trace of desperation in his voice when he asked, “I want another chance, sweetheart. I know I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“But you did, Matt! You’ve been lying to everyone!” You shouted.

Matt pressed his lips together and shook his head.

“And what would you have me do, y/n?! I didn’t want you to get hurt.” He snapped back.

“And maybe you should let me make my own decisions, Matthew.” You replied. “Everyone seems to want to make my decisions for me! Just let me choose! I know what I want.”

“And what do you want, y/n? You want to have to look over your shoulder when you walk down the street?!” Asked Matt.

“I’ve done that my whole life! All I want is YOU!” You blurted out. “It took me a long time to try and get over you and I don’t think I could do it again. I love you, Matt. I never stopped.”

Matt’s hand gripped the glass tightly and his breathing became rapid. He licked his bottom lip, searching for the words he wanted to say but you didn’t give him the chance to say anything.

All in one motion, you set your glass on the coffee table, the amber liquid moved from one side of the glass to the other and back again, and you walked from your chair, over to him. You removed the glass from Matt’s hand, set it down on the table behind you, and crawled into his lap.

His body was a warm cradle for yours as he snaked his arms around your waist and buried his face into your chest. A long exhale escaped his mouth as his warm breath hit your bare skin and your fingers tangled in his soft brown hair.

Being in his embrace again felt like you had never been apart, his fingers danced up and down your back sending restless shivers down your spine just like they had always done, and he pressed his full lips to your throat like he had a thousand times before.

“I love you too, angel.” Said Matt, gently wrapping his fingers around your throat like a necklace.

Inching your face closer to his, you brushed his stubble with your thumbs and softly planted your lips on his as your eyes closed in relief, a blur of a smile stretched across your mouth as he continued to kiss you, and his name fell from your lips over and over again.

Matt covered your mouth with his own while gently winding strands of your hair in his fingers, his tongue stroking against yours as he told you he loved you over and over again.

There was a lot of uncertainty at the moment but the one thing you were sure of was that you loved each other and you never wanted to be without him again.

One way or another you would figure it out but tonight he was yours and all was forgiven.

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @chezagnes @elgrandeavocados @freshabogados @matt-erialgirl

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @k-marzolf @hellskitchens-whore @jvanilly @she-likesorchids

Thank you for reading, I appreciate it! I’ve only tagged a handful of people. If you liked it, you can tell me, I don’t bite. I know I haven’t written for Matt in awhile, no pressure

[starry-hughes]

need you now

mat barzal x reader

summary: mat is injured and stuck at home with the memories of your relationship

warnings: angst, mention of a breakup

inspired by the song need you now by lady a

italicized portions of this fic indicate flashbacks

Picture perfect memories Scattered all around the floor Reaching for the phone cause I can't fight it anymore

“Mat? Honey, do you want us to take this box of stuff back home with us?” his mom, Nadia, asked. His parents were in town when he got hurt at the game the other night. It was technically just the Dad's trip, but his mom had also come to see her son. “No, mom, I gotta have Noah drop it off at (Y/N)’s place,” Mat spoke quietly. His mom gave him a soft look. Both of his parents knew how hard he took the break up.

His parents left soon after that, taking a taxi to the airport since they didn’t want Mat to strain his knee more. His parents were departing since he wouldn’t be playing for a little bit now. Mat glanced at the shoe box his mom had asked about. He knew he shouldn’t open it, but what else was he doing tonight besides reminiscing on memories? The shoe box lid was flipped open as Mat sat on the couch. He was met with multiple photos of the two of you and random trinkets you left at his place. It was weird calling it his place. “Our place” always fell off his tongue better. 

Combing through the box, he felt his mood saddened as he found more photos and little things that used to belong to you. Random photo booth photo strips from Coney Island and polaroids from house parties. Your house key and the ring box. Mat felt like he had forgotten what you looked like, but it was all coming back to him. 

“Where do you want this box?” Mat questioned. “I think that’s more of my clothes, so in the bedroom,” you said. “You would think you would have enough clothes, eh?” Mat teased as he walked in the direction of the bedroom. He had asked you three weeks ago to move in with him, and now you were. “Really Mathew?” you laughed as you followed him into the bedroom. “I’m just saying, babe. We both know that you usually just end up wearing my clothes most of the time,” Mat placed the box down on the ground. 

“You’re just upset you’re losing closet space,” you leaned against his dresser. Mat moved in front of you, slotting himself between your legs. “But now I have you next to me all the time,” his head dipped down, his lips finding your neck. You sighed happily before remembering you still had boxes to move in. “Mat, we still have boxes from your car to move into the house,” you said. 

Mat groaned, “Do you really need more stuff?” You playfully pushed him back, “The faster we get the boxes into the house, the faster we can finally shower and get all this sweat from moving off of us in the shower.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Mat glanced at his phone. He thought about calling you. He craved to hear your voice. He could use the excuse as a butt dial or a stupid question like the name of those sleep aid gummies he liked to steal from you. He felt like he hadn’t heard your voice in so long. In reality, it had only been three months. Three months since the two of you broke up. 

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind. For me it happens all the time

Mat was on your mind more often than you would like to admit. You tried to get over him. You really tried. Tinder hookups, Bumble dates, Hinge likes. But you just couldn’t seem to get him off your mind. Over the last three months, there had been multiple nights when your friends had to rip the phone out of your hand to make sure you didn’t drunk text Mat. 

The closest contact to Mat you had was when someone from the team would drop off boxes at your apartment. It was always awkward. Not to mention the text you sent to Anthony Beauvillier when he was traded and moving off to Vancouver. You had almost texted Mat just to check up on him that night, but you decided not to. 

You weren’t watching the game when Mat got injured on his first shift in Boston. Only getting wind of it on social media the next day, seeing the headlines that he was injured. You had a text drafted for him, just a simple, “hope you feel better” text. But you never got the courage up to send it. Multiple times since your break up, you were questioning yourself if Mat was thinking about you. Was he back out on the dating market? Was he missing you like you were missing him? 

“When we get married, we should have it in Vancouver,” Mat simply stated one night. The two of you were laid up in bed together. “Thinking about our wedding Barzy?” you questioned with a smile on your face, propping your head up on your hand to look at him. “Just thinking about the future in general.” 

“Well, if we are going to talk about marriage, then you have to buy a ring since my hand is missing one,” you teased him. “Already on my mind,” Mat cupped your face before leaning in and kissing you. “What colors are we thinking for our wedding? It’s going to have to be in the summer for the off-season,” you pondered. 

“I don’t care what colors we have, the flowers, or anything. As long as you’re there, that’s all I need.” 

It's a quarter after one I'm all alone and I need you now. Said I wouldn't call, but I lost all control

Mat was dying in the house alone. He was tired of watching hockey highlights on the TV and ordering crappy pizza to the house. He hated going to the arena to have the trainers look at his injury since he couldn’t get onto the ice. He was itching to call you. Being stuck in the house was killing him. 

He could only swipe through social media so many times before getting tired. Mat’s thumb hovered over your contact name once more that afternoon. He was trying to guess what you were doing at the moment. He assumed you were at work, talking to your coworkers and smiling. God, he missed your smile. Mat was envious of how other people got to see you every day. 

Mat thinks he must be holding himself back from calling you because of the words he spoke the day he left. He knew he was at fault for the reason you left. You begged him when you were packing a bag not to call you or ask you to come back. 

“I can’t do this anymore!” you shouted at Mat as you yanked out a duffle bag from under the bed. “C’mon! We can talk about this!” Mat begged. You were pacing around the room, your hands running through your hair out of anger. “No! We can’t fix this. You’re always going to choose hockey above me!” 

You shoved as many clothes into the bag as you could. Mat was following you around, “It’s my career. You need to realize how important my job is, how hard I worked for this!” You scoffed, “Your job is more important than starting a family? Getting married? You can’t even say that you love me in front of your friends.” 

Mat followed you out to your car. He was still begging you to stay. Stay with him. “No, don’t call me. Please. I’m not coming back no matter what you say,” you were taking off the house key from your key ring and placing it into his hand. Mat silently watched your car roll away from the house. He didn’t know how long he stood there before walking back into the house. He clutched the key in his hand, walked into the bedroom, and slid it into his nightstand drawer, right next to the blue velvet ring box he was saving. 

And I need you now. 

You were tired from work, kicking off your shoes as soon as you got home. You didn’t know what you were doing as you put on the sports channel. Maybe it was out of habit from being with Mat for so long. They were talking about his injury, no one knowing how long he would be out. You bit your lip, unlocking your phone. Your friends would kill you if they saw you on the verge of texting him. You missed Mat so much. You missed how he would tuck his face into the nape of your neck when he was needy and cuddly. You missed that he would leave random drawings around the house when he was out of town, just a reminder that he was thinking of you. You missed the way his lips felt on yours. You needed him so much. 

Mat was staring at his phone. Your contact photo is still a photo of you and him in the car. He was leaning over and kissing your cheek when you took the selfie. He loved the photo. Mat had called Anders out in need of advice from his captain. “I want to call her. I need her,” Mat admitted. 

“If you need her, call her.” 

Mat was still hemming and hawing over whether or not to call you. You were pouring yourself a glass of wine when your phone buzzed with a call on the counter. Intuition told you it was him before you even looked at the name. When Mat finally decided, he picked up his phone, eventually finding the courage to hit the call button. 

“Hello?” you answered. 

“Hi.” It was a voice you missed so much and didn’t even know it until that moment.

[amethystfairy1]

hi I'm back again already lol, bc u really ought to know all the great things about ttsbc that I was too lazy to write out last time lmao.

Also! totally fine that ur not doing skizzpulse, you should write what inspires/motivates you (personally very motivated by them xD I've written ~90k words of skizzpulse myself rip)

Anyways, good things! You! you're the good things! I honestly can't remember when I last sent an ask in for the lil guys, so I'm just gonna say something I loved about each of their recent arcs.

First, Treebark. There's been so many identity reveals but I think this has been my favorite thus far. Ren going all protective boyfriend and fighting over Martyn was SO GOOD, plus soft kisses and they can just hold hands now without Ren being afraid he'll figure it out. Also loved Martyn seducing his entire family while being terrified out of his mind by big dog people with knives, like, I'd be a little out of it too. but the fam doesn't even notice but Ren did and is all supportive and comforts him, offers to take him home. I love how well they can read each other, like they're just in tune. they're soulmates, your honor. and, AND this means we can have double dates where they all know now! so excited :)))))

Zedango. this is what started me reading your stuff (the first fic I ever wrote was actually my own tt zedango ficlet, btw. that feels like an eternity ago now) I love how they've simultaneously progressed and devolved into slightly unhealthy relationship territory. something about not everything being perfect all the time just adds so much depth and realism to their relationship, as well as keeping the plot tense without feeling like you're making up problems just to have something to write about. AND THEN Tango doing the blazeborn courtship rituals was just so aaaaaaaa (THEY"RE SO ADORBSABLEEE) Tango setting aside his disgust with his claws to take care of Zed even tho its uncomfortable for him, and then Zed recognizing that and having all the warm fuzzy fondness for his bf was so sweet. Doc's notes about the rituals were on point, with how he reassures Tango that they're normal, healthy things and saying he's always open to having a conversation about it. (tho, i doubt Tango's ever taken him up on that offer lmao)

The other fic that's been in my head is ur most recent one, Handshakes and Headaches. I highly doubt we'll get a cub reveal in this next chapter, but ig we'll see soon enough. I loved how Cub just knew instantly that Grian was a hybrid and was just going in spirals putting it together that he was cuteguy, then him coming to the wrong conclusion about whether Scar knew, too, was just perfect. Tho, if he did think Scar knew and was cool with it, I wonder what he'd do first? Tell Scar his own secret, guess Grian's secret in front of them? I feel like he would think the safe thing would be to confront Scar about Grian being Cuteguy, and then if/when Scar admits it and says he's cool with it, Cub would feel safe(r) revealing his own identity. Maybe not right away, but sometime. Also, that would mean everyone in Hot Cave knows about hybrids and undercity, so he wouldn't have to glamor while he works (tho, that would also require revealing to Zed... they don't seem super close, but it's kinda obvious that Zed's chill w/ the undercity people, considering he's dating Tango and Cub knows that).

Also! now that Hypno knows G and Scar are safe, I really wanna see him revealing to Scar and Scar being all supportive and stuff :)))) Hypno wasn't someone I knew I needed in this world, but I'd die for him now. (ALSO the casual mention that his scales are dry and flaky rather than smooth and taken care of??? Hello?????? Someone get him some proper self-care ASAP, maybe take him swimming at a private pool or something idk. I feel like the moment Scar knows, he's going to be on it with the cookies and love and support. so excited hehehe)

anyways, I'm probably forgetting something, but whatever. I'll be back with more art soon (maybe I draw Hypno, since I've never done that before and electric eel hybrid sounds cool. Actually, I've decided, I'm gonna do it now. remind me what that looks like pls? or I go reread, whichever happens faster lol)

Ok that's all, have a good day!

I LOVE THE RAMBLESSSSS

Petition to get Hypno a private pool 😆

I'm so glad you love the slightly unhealthy but also very loving Zedango situation we have going on!

I LOVED YOUR TT ZEDANGO FIC! I'M STILL WAITING FOR THE SEQUEL!!!! 😭 /j you don't have to write one if you don't wanna BUT KNOW THAT I LOVED IT!

Ren being a protective boyfriend is all I need sometimes! It's just good fun! Thank you so much for telling all about everything!!!

I would actually LOVE to see how you would design Hypno if you do feel like drawing him! That sounds amazing! Electric Eel hybrid time!!!! 💖

[kaizenkhaos]

Over the Airwaves: A Harringrove Xmas Fic

Okay so you know how it goes. You see a post reblogged from a fellow Harringrover (if that's the term...hmmm...I'm not sure but hey ho XD) and all of a sudden the mind gremlins go yes....do it. Write a nearly 4K fic inspired by it. Or kinda. It's more adjacent to it. In this case, I saw a post reblogged by @avalonlights about Michael Buble and that sent me down a rabbit hole of Robin and Steve hosting a radio show and a certain someone or someones ringing in with requests. Though it does give me ideas for another fic for later or maybe next year now XD So Merry Christmas everyone! ^^ Wherever you are and whatever you're doing, have fun, stay safe and for those of you who struggle during this time of year, my thoughts are with you. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Four Days before Christmas Day...

"And that was 'So This is Christmas' by John Lennon. Coming up, we have the much beloved listeners' request section. But now, here's a few words from our sponsors." It was the run up to Christmas and Steve was working. Like every god darn Christmas he could remember since finishing at Hawkins High. Sure, the money wasn't bad and it stopped him from sitting alone in a big house, wishing that he could just chill in the pool and forget about the rest of the world, but….there was just somethin' about this time of year that set his teeth on edge. Maybe it was cos his parents had once again gone away from the holidays, leaving him with a Christmas tree laden with presents but no one to see him open them. Maybe it was the fridge full of food which they'd left for him which he'd stuff in the oven and try and not forget about. Or maybe it was the fact that each and every year, someone had actually asked him over to their place. And he lied about having somewhere already to go. Cos he didn't wanna be a burden, ruin a good time. If he was gonna be miserable, he'd be miserable alone. He was so tired of putting a brave face on things. But maybe what he really needed to do was bite the bullet and say yes. Being alone the past years had sucked.

Four days until the day of the most wonderful time of the year. According to many and that one song which they kept being asked to play most days. Christmas songs were the bread and butter of the airwaves for Radio Hawkins in December, most DJs chosing to play different varieties but some of the songs remained the same. The staple diet of a nation ready for the holidays and to eat and drink more in the name of good old Saint Nic. Steve and Robin had been given the afternoon slot, just before the prime time DJ, and so were kinda the warm up act before the main event. It meant that they could get away with playing some obscurities but overall, it was more the popular stuff, both classic and modern as well as the old curveball to keep them on their toes.

"Line one dingus, you're up to bat." It didn't matter that they were no longer the sailors hauling scoops at Scoops Ahoy, dingus had stuck. But it wasn't in the manner in which he'd been labelled at first. Now it was more affection than insult, just one of the many insider jokes and banter the pair now had.

Nodding, Steve looked over at the producers, giving the good old thumbs up and it was time for his sultry (and apparently sexy according to some listeners) tones to smooth over the airwaves.

"And we're back with more holidays hits right over the air waves at Radio Hawkins. And the section, as Robin said before the break, we all know and love. It's time to hand over to the listeners and the recommendations for your Christmas tunes." Looking at the board, he selected the button nearest to him and with a smile, started with, "Hello there dear listener, who do we have on line 1 today?"

"Hello. Can I request a song for all of the Hawkins Life guards out there? " "Sure thing, and what can we play you today?" Oh wasn't that a oh so familiar voice and a glance over at Robin told him that yep, she'd cottoned onto who it was too. They didn't even have to leave a name and they knew it. Steve wondered how red Robin was gonna get before the song would end, even before the voice continued and sealed the deal. "Could we have 'Santa baby' please Mr DJ." "That we can, thanks for your call." As the line went dead, Steve leaned over to the console to locate the song in question. Now he knew it was one which had been covered a hell of a lot; apparently one of the most covered Christmas songs ever. But no doubt the main DJ of the night would play some up-beat version and what was wrong with a bit of Eartha Kitt? "We're going with the original version?" Pulling her headset off, Robin was getting a raised eyebrow, as if this was something unexpected. She knew his leaning to the classics for these sorts of things but maybe she thought their audience would beg to differ. Although, that did make him think of…. "Yeah 'course. Why, should I have gone for the sexy Michael Buble version?" "No. Steve. Why do you…" Bingo. Deep, deep red is the result to his poking, as he made kissing noises at her and she looked like she'd have thrown a pillow at him if she had one at her disposal. Instead she just leaned over and nearly set him off his chair. An act that had the producers snorting and Steve grinning from ear to ear. Once he was straight and level back on his chair. Last year, Robin may have dragged him onto the stage for karaoke on their second work's night out together. It had been a small town bar, pretty cosy and most locals but they seemed to have known the radio station folk, so there was no hostile staring. Santa Baby had been the song Robin had chosen but not for the reasons he thought at first. Both a bit drunk, he'd just thought it was an updated upbeat version for them to stumble through. Then Robin had done a 180. No longer as shy as before but like a shot of confidence had come over here. Sassy, confident and damn…. If she'd not come out to him a couple of years previous and let her feeling about him known, that would have a time which he had gotten him paying attention. But as it was, he worked out real quickly what had caused the change, or rather who. Turned out a certain life guard had shown up, on their own work's do and yeah. Robin had already scoped her out and the song? It had been for her. It had turned out, as they'd found out later that night, the feelings had been mutual. Steve had slipped away to give them some privacy and the rest….well. They'd been dating for a year now, but every time that version of the song came on, Steve wouldn't let her live it down and Robin didn't let him get away with it.

"You're such a….." The song finished and a smirk is what Robin is faced with as she gives him that face and took over hosting duties. Whilst making it so very very clear that he was gonna pay for this later. Or one day. Who knew when, but she'd seek her revenge and he'd pay his due.

Three days until Christmas Day…

He was surprised they were both not hung over. A night out with Heather and her swim team, and member of his old swim team and many, many drinks later had left both him and Robin going home late and just about getting ready enough to be able to be coherent on the air. It had taken Steve an embarrassingly amount of time to work out their set lists and he swore at times he was getting the shakes for some reason but they were working through it. Him and Robin, the dynamic duo. They'd made the bad days work at Scoops and here, as tight as ever, they'd carry each other through it. Just as they had each other on the way home. "So, we have another caller on line two. What's your name and what can we play for you this afternoon?" They'd admittedly had some banging tunes already this slot. Some golden oldies; some Slade, some Wizard. Some modern ones and some not so Christmassy tunes too. Probably from someone who either didn't like Christmas all that much or just wanted to give others a breather for a moment. After playing a bit of T-Rex and Prince, the songs had morphed back into the season and Steve was now ready to hear what the last request of the session was gonna be. A pause on a line. This happened from time to time. When there was a bad line, a disconnect or when people just didn't know what to say, or how to start. It happened more often than he'd thought when he'd started here three years ago. Nerves on the airwaves, the thought of so many ears hearing your every word. Steve got it. He'd been the same when he'd started. Now it felt as natural as breathing. Steve patiently waited for the caller to say a word or hang up. "Santa's little helpers." Giggling floated over the line and yet another familiar sound reached Steve's ears. A sigh away from the microphone as he rolled his eyes at Robin to just get a grin back. Eyes carrrying as much mischief as the kids on the line. Well, it had only been a matter of time before one of the little shits got through. He was kinda surprised at who it was though. "Hello there Santa's little helpers. Hope you're keeping warm up there in the North Pole. What can we play for you?" "What's the North Pole?"

"Can we have 'Driving Home for Christmas'. Please."

Yep it was them and Steve just smiled, Robin shaking her head but still with that mischief in her eyes. Had she set them up to this? He had no idea if she actually had; he knew she wouldn't reveal her hand yet if she had. Or maybe it was the other who had spoken who'd decided to do it. Those two were thick as thieves after all. Either way, Steve leaned back to his microphone, the song now lined up to play.

"Sure thing. Here's 'Driving Home for Christmas' for Santa's Little Helpers. Thanks for calling."

Two days….. It had been a mistake. Two nights out in a row? He should have been able to handle it. Drink never used to be a problem. But today both him and Robin were definitely paying for it. She called it the hangover from hell but worth it. He was just wondering when the hell he'd turned his headset up. Every sound felt like it was echoing inside of his head. The only saving grace was that some of the staff on the other side of the glass had also been out, what with it being the works do, so they were all collectively on the bus together. Just trying to get through another shift before their beds came a-calling. "Line number three, thanks for calling. What's your name and what can we play for you this afternoon?" This time the voice was clearly using some sort of changer. Subtle but there seemed to be a distortion on the line which felt neither like the phone line or signal and clearly wasn't caused by a human voice. Catching Steve's glance, he hovered his finger over to the line button, just in case it turned out to be some prank caller who they'd have to boot off the air pretty quickly. Wouldn't be the first one, sadly probably wouldn't be the last. "Hi, name's "Christmas Princess" and I'd like "Last Christmas" by Wham please. Love your show, thanks for taking my call." "No problem at all Christmas Princess." He knew Robin was looking over now and he knew how; he didn't have to see it. If it wasn't written all over his face in clear sight, then it was that she knew him and his history well enough that she could feel what he was going through. This song….stung. A lot, and he knew it wasn't aimed at him or anything, but it was…such a shitty Christmas song in his opinion. Full of heartache and sorrow and memories of Christmas past. Memories of her and the special someone he wished he could have given his heart to. And the word Princess….god it remembered him so much of that asshole. Not even in town no more, could be a thousands miles. To Steve, he never was away. He was always there in his head, in his heart and he felt the whole thing stumble.That tell tale of a rip occuring again, and the feel of a soft hand under the table. Steve blinked out of his thoughts and daydreaming, looking over at Robin and the producers who were pointing at the blinking "Live" sign. Smiling at everyone, Steve hoped nothing he'd been thinking had shown on his face. One look at Robin, and he saw that it had. Damn. Him and Robin had spent so much time talking about their crushes that he was so relieved when one of them got lucky. She wanted it for him too, even if she shared his opinion on his crush (being an asshole). She wanted Steve to be happy and he wanted to be finally too.

"And that was Last Christmas. Sorry to all of you trying to avoid Whamhalla. Better luck next time folks. Now who'd we have on line six."

Christmas Eve It was Christmas eve, one last shift until Christmas Day, which turns out this year, he actually wasn't gonna be spending alone after all. He'd not realised until this morning that there were several voice messages for him at home. All of which had come from the Hendersons. Mrs Henderson had happened to bump into his mom in the supermarket or some place, and she'd let on that not only would they be out of town but Steve would be staying behind. Something about work and a boring business meeting his dad had which they didn't wanna drag him along to. So of course, the first phone call had from Mrs Henderson, asking him if he'd like to come over for xmas. The second had been just a check in and polite check in. A "It's okay if you'd rather be alone but if you could let me and Dusty know, that would be appreciated." The final one had been Dustin telling him that if he didn't come around to his on Christmas Day, then his mom was gonna bring them around. Apparently his mom must have had a change of heart; Steve not finding out the why until much later on. Outwardly he'd been annoyed, rung back. Got Henderson on the phone and huffed a "Fine Henderson. Let your mom know we already have a turkey," before putting the phone down. But as Robin started to work out which lines they were gonna to be taking calls from first and he worked through the playlist they'd already arranged for the session, Steve realised that really, now the day was actually nearly here, he was relieved. So god damn relieved that it wouldn't be another meaningless Christmas. He even felt a little bad about his tone on the phone. He should have sounded grateful, not like he was doing them a favour. Something to apologise for when he saw them in person. No more time to dwell on that though as he was on main host duties today and so it was his turn to man the lines. Nodding to Robin, she hit a button and put the caller through. Steve wondering what the next Christmas 'masterpiece' in which they would be asked/forced to play would be. "Over to line four. Hi there, what's your name and what can we play you this Merry Christmas Eve?" "Yeah, hi. This is that guy with the Camaro. I want to request a song for someone special. It's that Mariah Carey song. You know, the popular one." No……no no no. It couldn't be. It had to be….someone else right? But no. He'd know that voice anywhere in the world. The inflexion in his words, his choices, his tone. Of all the god damn people to phone in and all of the times too. And of all of the god damn shitting songs he could pick. Why this one and why this. God Damn. Station. Maybe to be fair he didn't know. He'd been gone since Starcourt. Whisked away as soon as he was well enough. Had gone to catch some sun and never come back. At times Steve wished he would have stayed like Max had done. Maybe he'd have at least had the chance to say he was sorry. Maybe he could have made things right between them. "You there amigo?" The words echoed around in his head, before a little nudge from Robin brought him back around. Concentrate….he had to just treat this as another caller. Them as anyone else who wanted a song. It didn't matter how he felt about it; he had a job to do. "Yes, sorry that guy with the Camaro. All I want for Christmas is you right?" "That's the one."

The sound of a smirk in his voice made Steve want to throw up.Throw down his headset and go cry in the staff room.He'd not felt like this in so long and it was really darn hard for him to keep it together right now.But he had to. ON with the show and then he could let it all hang out when he got home. Away from the peering eyes, away from anyone's expectations of him. Then he'd be fine for when Mrs Henderson picked him up. None the wiser. "Sure man, we'll put that right on for you. Hope that special someone likes it." "Thanks man, I know they'll be listening."

Another gut punch and it was like the Byers House all over again. All he needed was a plate smashing over his head. A squeeze of his hand and Steve takes a deep breath before slipping the headset off again. Robin quickly joining him and gently putting his and hers down on the console. "Steve….." "It's okay Robin. He's probably come back to see Max for Christmas" And this special person of his. A tight lump was gripping his throat. He hated this. All of it. Most of the staff here knew about him and Robin and it didn't bother them. It hadn't stopped them from rising up the ranks, given them their own show. Some people in Hawkins would still be reviled if they knew about the pairs' sexualities but here they were safe. And he was pretty sure some of them knew about the golden haired Cali boy that he held such a torch for. Hell, one of them had even found his mixtape in the car once. Asked him about it and then reassured him that he was okay. That it was fine. He had a friend who was gay and he was going to their wedding. That had been several months back, the first person at work Steve had even told. It still didn't make this any easier. He'd gotten worse at hiding his emotions. The dam was breaking and he was struggling to stop the water now. Luckily though, the caller was gone before the song played out and Steve managed to say a hurried thanks before Robin skillfully took over the air for the last song. Gestured for him to go and take a breather. The producers nodded and let him go, didn't mind the fact he'd had to head off early. He'd wanted to say thank you to all their listeners, to wish them a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year as they wouldn't be back on the air until after the first, but he just couldn't right now. And they all knew that. Smoking hadn't been on his mind for a while, but now he fished around the bag he brought out from his locker to find the packet, slightly crumpled in a side pocket. God he needed this. God he needed….apparently a lot of things. A hug, a smile, reassuring words. A good turkey dinner and a warm fire, and family and laughter and….. At first, he ignored the buzzing of his phone. Probably just a message or a spam call or somethin'. It rang off fast enough to be either so he just stood there. Leaned against the wall and took the longest drag that he had in a real long time. Before off went his phone again, pulling against his jeans. Maybe it was Mrs Henderson. Maybe there'd been a change of plan or she needed to make sure she had the right gravy. She did like to make a fuss and always made him feel so welcome. The thought of which is what made him pull his phone out eventually. It wasn't right to keep her waiting. He'd already missed her calls and not rang her back, something else he really needed to say sorry for. But it wasn't her name that had flashed up on his screen. It was Max. Okay, that….didn't make the most sense but maybe she just wanted to wish him a Merry Christmas or….shit no, something hadn't happened had it? He'd….he'd better pick up. "Max?" "No need to sound so worried pretty boy. She's fine. Snuck out with Lucas somewhere. Probably the arcade. Dead romantic like that." Holy….shit. He couldn't stop himself from sliding down the wall, only feeling over the back of his jacket once his ass had hurt the floor. Hargrove…what the shit. He really was back in Hawkins and apparently had Max's phone on him. "Also before you lecture me, yes she has my phone. Didn't think you'd pick up if it was a strange number or anything. So, you like the song choices?"

"Song choices?" Wait choices….. Steve's face must have done a whole range of different motions as emotions rode from pillar to post. He'd rang in before. Several times. But when and…. how many times? What had he requested, other than that damn song today. The voice changer….so he'd been the shit requesting freaking Last Christmas. Now another emotion straddled the rest of them. So, was this some kinda sick joke, a wind up, a play to get him on air? He couldn't think straight. He never could around Hargrove but wasn't this typical of him? Wasn't this the usual hair playing behaviour he should have expected? Wasn't this why he liked him? Shit…. This could not be happening.

"Ah come on man? Santa baby, Driving Home for Christmas….George Michael and freaking Mariah Carey. You know how much cred I've lost just requesting that song man." "Ah great. Yeah, it totally makes sense now. You putting others up to ring mine and Robin's show and make me feel like a complete ass" "Woah woah woah amigo. No no no." A snort and then that lower tone that always made him feel like he was about to split in half. "Did you even listen to what I said to you? Listen to the lyrics of any of those songs. And here was me thinking you were a fellow music lover Harrington." Listen to the lyrics? About wanting someone, coming home to them, the whole giving someone their heart and shit and…..but it was for a special someone. All I want for Christmas is…..oh. "Get the hint yet?" His eyes darted upwards as the shadows crept over him. A familiar smile now above him. Shining ocean eyes which he thought he'd never see again. And the sound of an engine in the background and playful chatter. Max and Lucas at the arcade his ass.

"Hi there pretty boy. Look whose come back for Christmas." ……….

[jerzwriter]

Thank you to the brilliant anon who sent this ask from this list! Pairing one Trystan Thorne with one Tobias Carrick may be the most inspired idea in the history of ideas! Since this is before they met their perspective C's (as you put it! lol) I swear this should be my canon. I've wanted to do a Trystan x Carolina end up in Edenbrook's ER when Tobias x Casey are on duty forever - and this would make it even better! I am LOVING that idea!!!! Thanks so much for the ask!

Books: Crimes of Passion/Open Heart Crossover Pairing: Trystan Thorne x Tobias Carrick Rating: Teen Words: 1,032 Summary: It must have been a wild party... because when Trystan and Tobias woke up in the same bed... neither had any idea how they got there. Can they figure it out? A/N: This fic takes place approximately 2 years before the start of Open Heart Book 1. Participating in @choicesjunechallenge2024 - June (for Pride month) and "In or Out?" The original prompt was for scenario number 12 from this list by @creativepromptsforwriting

There’s something about the morning sun that commands respect. Its power is undeniable, rousing people from slumber, no matter how much the prior evening’s choices have them desiring a full day spent in bed.

That’s where Tobias Carrick found himself... cursing the morning sun that blazed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. His eyes had barely opened when he felt the pounding in his head. The throbbing pain would typically be unwelcome, but today, it brought a clarity he desperately needed.

He knew his head was pounding—of that was certain. But as for everything else—where he was, what he did—he had no recollection. When he felt someone stirring in the bed behind him, his eyes jolted open wide. Another mystery unsolved... who was he with?

An audible groan filled the air—one that didn’t belong to him - and Tobias’s eyes darted around the well-appointed bedroom, desperately seeking anything that might jog his memory. Something that would make the upcoming conversation a little less awkward, but there was nothing. Not a single memory was stirred and he wondered, just how much did he have to drink?

Conceding that discomfort was inevitable, Tobias decided to bite the bullet. Ignoring the queasiness rising within him, he sat up and turned to his side, finding an incredibly handsome—if somewhat worse for wear—man seated on the edge of the bed. Even with long locks obscuring most of his face, it was clear this specimen was genetically blessed. And his torso indicated countless trips to the gym made up for whatever genetics may have denied him, only adding to his allure.

“Hey,” Tobias said with a graveled voice, causing the stranger to jump. “Sorry... didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s all right,” the man replied with a foreign accent Tobias tried to place. “I was just hoping you’d stay asleep a little longer.”

“Really?” Tobias replied. “Why’s that?”

The man turned with a sheepish grin and a delicate blush creeping onto his cheeks as his hazel eyes met Tobias's aqua-blue ones. “I was hoping you’d stay asleep so I could try to remember who you were.... perhaps take a photo to do a Google search.”

Tobias erupted into his trademark raucous laughter, only to halt when he realized it was causing immense pain—not only to himself but to his handsome bedmate as well.

“Would it be disappointing if I told you I was glad to hear that?” He replied with a slight grimace.

“Really?” The stranger responded with a raised brow. “And why is that?”

“Because I'm still trying to figure out who you are,” Tobias chuckled. He extended his hand with a disarming grin. “Tobias, Tobias Carrick. And you are?”

“Trystan,” the man replied with relief. “Trystan Thorne. It’s lovely to... uh... meet you?”

“So, Trystan, do you know where we are? Because if you do, you’re already one up on me.”

Trystan squinted as he looked around. “We’re at my place,” he confirmed. “Although... this is the guestroom.”

Tobias appeared shocked, given the size and opulence of the quarters. “Damn! If this is the spare room, what does your bedroom look like?"

Trystan peeked out from under his bangs with a sly grin. “Do you expect an invitation?”

Tobias barked out a laugh. It was rare for him to meet anyone he considered a match in the art of flirtation, and he was impressed.

“Slow down there, big boy! First, I’d just like to figure out how I got into this bedroom... we can take the rest from there.”

“I don't quite recall," Trystan chuckled. "I think I'll need a heavy dose of caffeine before I figure that out... but the last thing I remember was being at the Pride parade...”

“New York!” Tobias snapped his fingers. “I'm visiting New York for the weekend.”

“Wow,” Trystan astounded, “You hadn’t even remembered that much?”

“Hey, I’m just waking up!” Tobias assured. “Pride parade... pride parade...” he mumbled. “I remember. After I went to Marie’s Crisis to get a drink...”

“Yes! I was there... and I told everyone I was hosting a post-Pride party at my place.”

“Ah!” Tobias realized. “That explains how I ended up here. Well, at your apartment, that is not necessarily how I would up in your guest bed with you.”

“I’m not sure either,” Trystan continued. “I’ve never slept in this room. The only reason I can think of would be...” he stopped with a gasp, his eyes filled with horror. “Oh, no!”

“What?” Tobias asked anxiously.

“I was absolutely done for the night... too much partying, too much drink... I told the butler to oversee things until all the guests had left. I needed to retire for the evening.”

“And?”

“I stumbled to my room and opened the door to find my sister, Astrid, and her latest girlfriend in flagrante delicto...in my bed!” Trystan winced. “I’m going to have to purchase a new mattress!”

“Or, you could just wash the sheets,” Tobias laughed.

“You, sir, have never met my sister, Astrid, or you’d understand. The sheets will be dissolved in acid, and a new mattress is a must.”

“Damn. I’m not sure if I should be impressed with or scared of your sister,” he smirked.

“Perhaps a little of both. Anyway, I was so intoxicated even that horror didn’t fully rouse me, so I stumbled to this room and found you snoring.”

Tobias was appalled. "Hey! I don’t snore!”

Trystan found that endearing and immediately decided to let him off the hook.

“To be honest, I was in no condition to be a reliable witness. You may well be right. I tried to wake you... but you were out cold... wouldn’t budge an inch. So I pushed you to the side, put a blanket over us, and passed out myself.”

“So... we didn’t...”

“Since our pants are still on, I’m pretty sure we didn’t.”

“There’s no pretty sure here,” Tobias said with a cocky grin. “If we had... you would have remembered. Trust me.”

Trystan shook his head with a smile. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to exit this room at once. Your ego appears to be at least as enormous as mine, and having them both in a room of this size must be a fire hazard, according to the NYPD."

Tobias threw his legs over the side of the bed, recovering his shirt from the floor as Trystan carefully surveyed the sculpted contours of his unexpected guest's back, chest, and arms. Would it be wrong to ask him to remove the shirt again?

"So," he cleared his throat. "I'd normally offer to make breakfast, but I have no idea what condition I'll find this place in. But there is a lovely cafe down the street, they do a lovely brunch on Sundays - would you care to join me?"

Tobias leaned over the bed with a playful smirk. "Trystan, are you asking me out on a date?"

The normally unflappable prince appeared flustered, words hard to come by. "I'm asking you to brunch," he finally grinned. "And perhaps to Macy's to mattress shop once I'm assured Astrid has vacated the premises. Are you in or out?"

"You had me at Brunch," Tobias chuckled. "But throw in mattress shopping, and how can I say no."

"Good," Trystan grinned. "I think we're at the start of a memorable day."

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[tangerinepot]

hello {natsuo todoroki x reader}

A/N: This is my first fic on tumblr! Wahoo!! I haven't written in a WHILE so please feel free to critique :3. This fic is inspired by the song Hello by Hawk Nelson!

Warnings: small make-out sesh

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NATSUO'S POV:

I'm sitting in the school cafeteria when I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I pull it out to see a message from her.

"Huh?" I ask myself.

"She sent me a Spotify link," my curiosity gets the better of me as I click the link and open Spotify. "Oh, it's a playlist." I click on the first song.

"You never ever leave my mind,"

"Not bad," I think as start walking to my next class. The song keeps playing as I pass her dorm hall. "We've been friends for a while now. I haven't thought much about it but I wonder if she's trying to ask me out by sending me this." thoughts wrestle in my head as I walk a little faster.

I eventually get to class where I pull out my laptop. "Wait, she's in this class.." I remember. Now I'm nervous. Just as she walks in the next part of the song begins to play.

"Wish I could some how let you know,"

"Hey, Y/N!" I say, getting her attention. I motion her to sit next to me. She looks excited. I pause the song and put my headphones away so I can talk to her.

"Hi, Natsu," she says as she sits next to me. Her voice is smooth, like honey. "How've you been? Did you get my text?" She's beautiful too...

"I did! I started listening, though I only got through half of the first song," I say, sounding a little bummed. "Listen.. it looks like these are all love songs. Did you mean something by that..?" I ask, feeling a blush creep up my face.

"Uhm.." she starts "Actually yeah, I was thinking of a way to ask you out but was too scared to ask you straight up haha." "So she does like me..." I think to myself. I can tell she's nervous to admit that.

"So.. do you feel the same?" she asks as I realize I left her hanging. "Oh! Y-yeah. Sorry," I say as I start to blush harder. "Did you wanna... plan something?"

"I'd love that," she says excitedly. "I'm free tomorrow, this weekend, and all of next week!" I think about my plans for the rest of the week. Dinner with Shoto and Fuyumi has gotten kind of boring lately, unless dad's there. But, that just turns into a mess most of the time. I don't think Fuyumi is planning on going to see Mom this weekend either. "Tomorrow sounds great," I tell her. "What time should I come pick you up?"

"Pick me up?" she asks, giggling. "How romantic. What about 7:00?" she says as she starts to blush. "Sounds perfect," I say with a smile. Our professor walks in and begins class before we can say anything else, but we exchange smiles when he isn't looking.

After class I walk with Y/N back to her dorm. Making small talk along the way.

"So, why did you think a playlist was the best way to ask someone out?" I ask. "I'm not sure haha. I've always been a huge music nerd.. that's why I'm studying it here," she replies. "What's your favorite color?" she asks in return. "Blue, like the sea." I say, trying not to give her a dry answer. We talk about classes and professors and homework all the way to her dorm hall, where I drop her off at her dorm.

"See you tomorrow," she winks at me. I start to feel hot as I reply "Y-yeah.. see you then!" "Man, she really gets to me... I don't know how I didn't notice until now," I think as I start to walk out of the building. As I walk back to my dorm room I put my headphones in and press play on the last song that was playing.

"Every time I want to say hello, every time I want to stay, I go."

"Is this really how she feels about me?" I think as I listen. This is a nice feeling. I think I could get used to it. I walk up to my room, open the door, and fall in my bed. For the next hour or two I spend my time looking up at the ceiling thinking about her and what tomorrow will be like. I eventually fall asleep listening to the playlist she sent me.

When 6:00 rolls around, I'm too excited to sit down. I've been ready for hours so now I'm just pacing. I make my way to the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror for the fourth time. It's so weird how one moment we were just friends and now I'm getting nervous about going on a date with her. I'm not even sure where to take her. I guess I'll figure that out by the time I get to her dorm. I grab my wallet, keys, and a jacket before heading out the door.

When I pick her up at her dorm, she looks incredible. My breath hitches for a moment when I see her. She's in a blue dress. "Hi Natsuo," she says seductively. She noticed my reaction. I start to blush. "Are you ready for our date? I was thinking we could go to the restaurant across campus." "That sounds great." I tell her as I take her hand.

We get to the restaurant, get seated and order our food. We share a few plates of sushi and talk about how our classes are going. I pay for our meal before leaving the restaurant.

It's cool outside compared to the warmth of the restaurant. We walk a few blocks before Y/N stops and looks up at me. I've never seen more beautiful eyes than her's. She looks at me like she's waiting to tell me something, but she's too scared to say it. "What's wrong?" I ask her, curious. "Natsu.. can I kiss you?" Huh? Earlier she sounded so confident, like she could have taken me at any moment. Now she's nervous about kissing me? My eyes widen as I quietly say "Sure."

She practically dives on me as her lips press against mine. I catch her instinctively. Wait.. am I holding her? I open an eye to see if her feet are on the ground and sure enough, they aren't. Her lips are soft and taste like strawberry. I don't want to be the one to break the kiss so I hold her until she backs off for air. "You're really good at kissing," she giggles. "Thanks.. that was my first." I say, slowly turning red.

When I drop her off at her dorm she looks up at me again. "Tonight was nice," she said softly. "Wanna do it again sometime?" she winks at me. "Of course," I say. As she goes in for another kiss i grab her by her waist, lifting her up and holding her again. My tongue slides in her mouth and she giggles while kissing me. I bite her bottom lip and she moans. We stay like this for a minute or two before I eventually put her down to let her open her door and go inside for the night. Before she closes the door she whispers to me...

"I love you, Natsuo, goodnight."

[altfire]

WELCOME TO AERMAINH

Book One: RAPTORA

tag: #aermainh status: planning/in progress genre: high fantasy/romance

Summary

One hundred years ago, the people of Aermainh waged war against their own gods and sent them back to the realm from which they came in an event known as the Godsend. Since then, magic has been a finite resource - the blood of the gods' only casualty, metered out slowly, and this precious ichor is running out.

The spoiled youngest son of a governor, Velius Mattia could not care less about the ichor running through his own veins when he drops out of Laryce Academy for Mages. Frustrated with his lack of innate talent and the grueling coursework, he runs away to the capital city of Elaboros to celebrate the first centennial of the Godsend and avoid the wrath of his demanding family.

Ortag Garrok has never left the arid northern desert of Aermainh or, indeed, his own village before he's banished. Accused of a crime he didn't commit and far out of his depth, he travels deep into human territory looking for somewhere new to belong.

On the beach of the Elaborate Sound, these unlikely companions are enlisted to aid a forgotten minor god, Raptora, who has been trapped on Aermainh for a hundred years with no way home. They resolve to help the Lord of Oaths open the gate to the Aviarium in exchange for all that they dream - but Vel and Garrok will soon discover that there's good reason Raptora's otherworldly kin were banished.

(Character list + some notes/thoughts/additional info below cut!)

From left to right: Lioren Florianus, Hermiscia "Miscia" Mattia, Velius "Vel" Mattia, Ortag Garrok, Adaric "Daric" Mattia III, Adaric Mattia II, Caysin Rea. Right click + open in new tab to take a closer look - the image is huge and took me forever lmao. Also the bird represents Raptora :3c

I'm not really a writeblr bc I barely write and also barely -blr, but I follow a couple and I'm super inspired by their passion and posting so I'm. Trying it out. Idk I'm nervous but whatever.

I've been working and thinking about Aermainh forever - I first thought of the name and gods in 2018, and this iteration has been in progress (though on a backburner) since late 2022. I wanted to create my own fantasy world for a couple reasons:

Firstly, I've been writing Elder Scrolls fic with OC focus since 2016 and wanted my own world to play with since I was basically writing original fiction without having to do any worldbuilding, but using someone else's world has its own drawbacks

And second, I want to create the kind of book I want to read, in the most self-indulgent sense possible. M/M romance, maybe explicit smut (still deciding lol), but all alongside the sweeping, immersive world and wonder of my favorite paperback fantasy novels. I'm especially inspired by Scott Lynch's Gentlemen Bastard Sequence and the Nightrunner series by Lynn Flewelling.

Also, I just think big lizard people are neat. Maybe that's my TES-brain disease. I love Argonians so much.

ANYWAY this post is super long and if anyone actually read this far, thank you!!!! If you have any questions about any of this - the story itself, the characters, the world (I have a map!) - feel free to send me asks!!!!

[gaywizardzone]

deliriously in love with your dgm fanart. i stumbled into a full course buffet. exquisite, splendid, 10/10 no notes. do you have any DGM fic recs, bc i have suitcases full of DGM recs,

ok first of all thank you so much!! dgm is i think the thing i've drawn the most fanart for in my life cumulatively? in many bursts of insanity over the years. lol. so i have a lot of fun drawing it and i'm very honored that you like what i've made so much. also re: your other ask my worstie and collaborator ozwuv and i are working on it together since you sent it to both of us (we made a joint google doc to combine our perspectives lol) so the answer might not come from me but you'll get one!

second of all i am kind of an old livejournal era hag in terms of my taste in fanfiction in general and my history with this series in particular, so there are exactly three things in here that are less than a decade old and two of them are from 2016. naturally this means that a lot of it is now divergent with some details of how the plot and characterization and etc has actually gone (sorry to everyone back in the day who thought kanda was looking for some missing sister or something. one truly could not have possibly seen all of that coming). that said they still hold up to me in terms of general character dynamics and being fun and well written and such. recommendations also depend on what you like! i will generally not put that much shipping in here because there aren't that many of those i've read and would recommend in the first place (no hate to our strong and beautiful yaoi warriors, i used to read nearly anything back in the day, it's just that not too much of it has stuck with me) but there are some things that are so iconic to me that i could not in good conscience not include them. lots of this is kanda-centric because i like him :) putting it all below the cut

Hard Living by metisket - the aforementioned ship fic that's too iconic not to include. changed my brain chemistry when i first read it many many years ago. i seriously considered making it the only thing i put on here for a second just for the bit. To Me this is actually such a classic that it transcends shipping. the humor is very sharp and funny and i'm so in love with the concept of dying young for them meaning getting old early first and having to deal with it all together. they're so damn hilarious. it should happen to them. it does in my dreams. it never will but in my head there will always be a world where it does <3 i love to draw fanart of them as old decrepit men at 35 and maybe i'll post some of it someday. obviously it was written pre-alma so you just have to accept that it's wildly inaccurate in that regard. anyway pretty much anything this author has written for dgm is really good, i will put a few more metisket favorites on this list but check it all out even if i didn't include it. also this particular one is the inspiration for my most favoritest kanda fic <3 below

Blooming From the Mud by zarinthel - this is not just me shilling fic by someone i know. i am an absolute kanda diehard and this is really THE fic for me in terms of like hitting all the things i love about him. zar number one kanda understander. incredibly funny and compelling i don't care if you don't know anything about bleach (i don't either i haven't read it since middle school) or that you haven't read the fic it's inspired by (though you should) or that it's unfinished. you all should and in fact must read it. kanda's life is both so sad and so hilarious because of how sad it is and his pov here is just so excellently funny because he really is such a funny individual. also not a slash fic though it does really highlight how close and kind of insane his and allen's relationship is in a way that i find extremely delightful and accurate and just wonderful. they make me sick (positive). really good. so if you're a non shipper but you care about them you should read it and if you're a shipper you will also certainly enjoy it anyway so you should read it. truly for everyone!

Chimera Obscurant by moonsheen - i tend to struggle with most kanda/alma fix-it fanwork i've encountered despite loving them dearly because i rarely feel like anyone evokes the way their relationship is both strong and a bit unsettling (at least to me) without swinging around into being too edgy (i fully admit i have not explored super deeply because i get frustrated easily so i'm sure there are things that would appeal to me that i'm missing). this is one of the very few things i've read for them that i've been like yes i think this is beginning to get at the kind of atmosphere i want to see. if i remember correctly this was written before kanda came back to drag allen into accepting support and friendship so i'm just like "oh whatever" about its incompatibility with that. fanwork for ongoing stuff truly creates divergent timelines in my head. anyway this is the most nsfw thing that will end up in here and it's not particularly explicit, but heads up that it is there in case you're averse to that

In his Heart by harukami - another kanda/alma but just kanda technically. i read this and was so delighted that i made a :D face in real life. i've assimilated this into my worldview like i think this is something he would do. he's crazy like that.

Economies of Scale by liketolaugh - last kanda and alma one but this one's here less for the romantic aspect and more because i'm so endeared by the idea of fresh out of the lab kanda being so angry and miserable but also completely blindsided by all the stuff there is in the world. ten year old who is learning about so many new animals. really funny and cute and sad.

siblings, probably by scarlet666 - this one's for the kanda and lenalee enthusiasts. the best friends lovers. i love them so dearly i put the level of energy people usually put into shipping into their bestie-isms so naturally this was for me. huge shoutout to this person for writing 20k words about them if nobody else in the world has my back i know they do. i have the memory of a goldfish and this is long enough that i can't really scan quickly to refresh my memory and make more detailed comments but i know it deserves a spot on here. my note from when i bookmarked it just reads AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH but i never leave a comment in that field at all usually so that speaks volumes i think. life is so beautiful sometimes. peace and love on planet earth <3

Welcome Home by metisket - for the rest of this list i am about to hit you with the metisket beam. the author whose work i most fondly remember from my youth by far, which means that's what's stuck with me and what half of my recs will be. i love this one dearly because i love a normal person perspective in insane anime settings type of fic and reever is so delightfully normal and longsuffering and also funny as hell. love how his relationship with komui is in this. not a ship fic and am not recommending it as such but it did make me in the back of my head go "komui/reever is almost like roy/riza without the war crimes for people who are cringefail mad scientist enthusiasts." sane responsible second in command type slash babysitter who is devotedly loyal to crazy irresponsible boss but also wants to kill him a little bit. they're so great to me

Growing Up by Accident by metisket - just so kanda and allen and the way their relationship is. having the exact same feelings about something but approaching it so differently that they want to attack each other. love them 4ever. the way metisket writes allen's internal voice is also delightful to me (like not JUST here but in general). he's so jaded and funny. probably my favorite allen to read out of anyone who writes him ever. and kanda is always just so...kanda.......<3

Sand Castle by metisket - (smiles and blood leaks from the side of my mouth) i love you allen walker. i love this look at allen's growth pre-series from cross' perspective and how he managed to become the hilarious twisted convoluted wonderful little freak that he is. allen is so.....everything to me truly i would never have it any other way. really kind of darkly funny but also like agonizingly emotional. delightful

Mask and Mirror by metisket - love this take on what the inside of lavi's head is like, and also the way all the character dynamics shine through even in such a short thing, they're all so wonderfully cute and funny. the sense of humor is really great. lenalee didn't even make a real appearance but even the brief mention of how she and kanda are had me giggling.

in the circus series by metisket - certified classic. i love timcanpy pov and this whole thing is just so emblematic of my fond memories of old dgm fanworks. i love anything that highlights the way they're all just so immensely fucked up to the point that it's actually incredibly absurd and funny. i'm pretty sure metisket's LJ has more mini outtakes from this series but i'm too lazy to dig through the dgm tag right now so i'll just link it so you can do it yourself if you're interested.

lastly if you're looking for someone to share your recs with you're free to! i am on a personal level picky as hell and my taste in styles and approaches to fanwork was forged in the livejournal mines and has not evolved with the times LOL but i also don't judge <3

[seijorhi]

Hey, god it’s me again. 😔 LOL

I think that at this point of my life your beautiful and flawless fic ‘means to an end’ has physical intertwined with me. It is a part of my mind, soul, and body. 😩 Everything about it is chefs kiss.

I wish I could just kiss that beautiful big brain of yours for coming up with such delicious ideas. The way it’s on my mind daily since the moment I read it is SICKENING (in a good way obvi 😏).

I will go through my day and out of nowhere something will remind me of it and along will come a question. You did this to me Rhi 🫵.

NOW I know you’re very busy with getting your new fic ready (absolutely excited btw, I love Gojo and knowing your beautiful mind , anything you write will be to die for!!!!) but I wanted to ask a couple questions (I know, shocker right?). Since I know you’re busy, don’t feel obligated to answer these questions. In fact, I’ll be very happy if you even reply with a heart. (I simply just wanted to let you know deeply I appreciate/admire your work.)

But here are my troublesome questions:

- Did the guys on their volleyball team know about their obsession with the reader?

- I know you mentioned Atsumu having girlfriends through highschool but did that apply to Osamu too? (Especially since he liked the reader first?)

- This is sort of like my first question but did the girlfriends know as well? And if they did, did they feel any jealousy? (Jealousy from their boyfriend giving his attention to someone else.)

- Since there was a long period of time of not seeing the reader, did they have hopes of seeing her again? (before Atsumu found ame)

- While in that period of time did the twins still date around?

That’s all but please if you have anything else to add , it’s definitely welcomed. 🫶 (also I’m sorry if these questions sound silly or stupid but they’ve been taking up my mind for awhile and I’m sorry to everyone for constantly bringing up ‘means to an end’ but that fic has a strong grip on me yall. Like I’m down bad on my knees for this version/fic of the Miya twins 😔.)

OFF TOPIC: I’ve been trying very hard to be more active with my favorite writers to show love and support but still find the idea to be very scary. I still get nervous sending in messages or asks but I’m trying to take baby steps. I also want to gain the confidence of not having to press the anonymous button because I want you to know who I am but as a second baby step , I will now be signing my post with my nickname since I want you to (sort of) know who I am ☺️ (and not just some crazed fan lol.)

-🌬️🌫️ katia

(I keep on forgetting which emojis I used on the previous questions I sent but I hope I got it right this time 🥲)

(Edit: you’ll probably see the same message again but that’s because I’m sending it to you again because I forgot to mention this in the pervious one 😰.

You’ve inspired me to start taking a more darker route in my writing. I began writing maybe a month ago and it’s a romance novel. (So far I’ve got two chapters 🫠).

But these past couple days I’ve been REALL REALLY wanting to write more darker content (like the kind you write, you’ve inspired me a great deal with your writing technique).

But the problem is I don’t know how to write yandere/horror/gore. So I was wondering if it wasn’t to much of a bother, if you could give me some tips or advice. (Im very new to writing and I have my struggles but I want to branch out to more darker themes, like you and fairy.) Still learning the ropes but I hope with your guidance, I’ll get there 🫡. )

hello my love!

okay so first of all if ur gonna keep being so cute and complimentary i will melt into a soft gooey puddle and be of no use to anybody so be warned.

as for your questions:

i would say that most people who spent a decent amount of time around the twins, i.e. their teammates and classmates, would have at least an inkling about their interest in bullying her. the miyas are many things, subtle isn't one of them. having said that, i think out of everyone, suna was probably the only one who saw it for what it was

hookups yes, 'girlfriends' no

again, anyone who spent a significant amount of time around the twins was bound to eventually put two and two together. which isn't to say that they were all blind going in – some undoubtedly thought they could snag his attention once they were officially dating, only to find themselves bitterly disappointed

they 100% both kept tabs on the reader, it was more a case of biding their time and waiting for the right moment

yes. not serious, long term relationships (aside from ame) as neither one of them would be capable of faking it for more than a few months but relationships all the same

advice wise, i dug up this old post which hopefully will be at least a little helpful??

beyond that, all i can really say is that for me, good yandere/horror fics balance emotion with tension, and the build up of both. the characterisation is also really important – what makes you love to loathe them, or alternatively, not see them coming until it's entirely too late. nothing bores me more in a yan fic than when the writer hasn't bothered to give their yan a personality beyond a cookie cutter obsession.

but congrats on getting started with writing! i'm proud of you bby <33

[aranarumei]

was offline most of today building a bookshelf but I saw the ask game was back and if you're still feeling it can I hear about that villainess au =D

ask me about my wips | wip list

this one's almost embarrassing to answer... but I won't be embarrassed! i want to say like, back in 2020...? ish? I started running into like, a bunch of isekai webcomics where it's like... oh no! i've become the villainess??? or it's like, even if it's not an isekai it's about like, this maligned woman getting together with someone unconventional... I don't know if I can describe them well. anyways my experience with them has been "oh this is fun but i want this to be pushed harder"? by and large.

now that's my like... inspiration, in some regards, to this fic. hence the title. it is not the fic. this fic is hualian (from tgcf / heaven's official blessing)

uh and ultimately all of this rambling is unrelated because this fic is actually just. a hualian sort of like. fake-arranged marriage thing. hua cheng is basically this like... noble who's known as this cursed figure. and he and xie lian are faking an engagement for like. Reasons. my reason being that i wanted to write hualian where they have a much more tumultuous relationship but it still like Works. there's fun stuff with like mistaken identities, misunderstandings, shenanigans between the noble families, i live out my yushi huang and hua cheng friendship dreams. eventually. dunno if this makes any sense so i will just put a bit under the cut...?

When he wakes up, he can’t get the crown prince’s voice out of his head. It lingers in his thoughts like the imprint of the floor against his cheek, overshadowing the soft, golden light of the morning. He’s always woken up early, ever since he crept out of his room one night and watched in amazement as the stars glittered in the night and were overtaken by the warm expanse of the rising sun. That sense of wonder eclipsed any fears he might’ve had about being caught, and now that Hua Cheng is well into adulthood, there’s nothing stopping him. 

Today, the sunrise feels dark and unappealing, a reflection of his own self-worth. He holds the weight of the mask in his hand and debates whether he should wear it. Eventually he sighs and affixes it to his face. He’s not an idiot. He knows that something has happened. There is no universe where the crown prince visits their manor and nothing happens. 

If they had more servants, maybe someone would spot him perched up on the roof of the manor, but most of them have left, and the ones that are left don’t like to concern themselves with Hua Cheng’s whereabouts. Besides, some of them actually like him. 

(Like would be an exaggeration. Hua Cheng has one attendant who is brave enough to withstand his presence, and even he seems vaguely uncomfortable at all times.)

Something shifts beneath him, and Hua Cheng presses down to the ground. The house is bustling in a way it hasn’t in many years, and it’s this which startles him out of his quiet contemplation. He slips back into his room, skin electrified with nerves in a way it hasn’t been in forever. Something about the house feels radically alive, like the way it had been when he was too young to be hit or sent to fend for himself. Noise seeps in through the walls, and Hua Cheng shakes a little at the enormity of it, trembling on a precipice of the most dangerous feeling there is—hope. 

[the-writer1988]

Hey there! 🌟 I've been absolutely obsessed with your Tangled fanfiction, and I couldn't help but notice your incredible talent for capturing Eugene's character so perfectly! 📖💕 Your stories have become my go-to whenever I need my daily fix of Eugene Fitzherbert goodness. ✨

I've got to know, what inspired you to dive into the world of Eugene-centric fanfiction? Are there any particular moments or aspects of his character that you find most intriguing? And, of course, I'd love to hear if you have any personal headcanons about Eugene that you've woven into your stories! 🤔💭

Thanks for sharing your amazing talent with the Tangled fandom! Your stories truly bring the magic of Rapunzel and Eugene's world to life, and I can't wait to see where your imagination takes us next. Keep being awesome! 🌸💜

Eugene is my favourite Tangled character! Wow, I feel honoured you read my stories a lot for your fix of Eugene goodness!

What inspired me to delve into the world of Eugene-centric fanfiction? Honestly, the lack of good Eugene fanfiction when I first started reading Tangled fanfiction. A lot of the fics focus on Varian, and though I like him, he's not a favourite, and there was so much Varian content, I found finding fics for what I wanted to read really hard to do. Which is why I decided to start writing Eugene-centric fiction! He's a primary Tangled character and deserves to shine in fanfiction!

I love his character arc in Tangled. That is what drew him to me in the first place. He's an orphan who has had it rough growing up, ended up stealing to survive when all he really wanted to do was be an adventurer, though I think deep down he wanted a family. That really resonated for me as family is very important to me. I love how he saw Rapunzel and didn't take advantage of her. He could have done but he didn't. He did the honourable thing, even if it meant he'd be imprisoned again by returning her to her parents. He has honour, and he is capable of love. He didn't hesitate to sacrifice his own life for Rapunzel's freedom. And, I absolutely adore his relationship with Rapunzel. They compliment each other, they love one another and honestly, it is the best on-screen romance of a realistic romance Disney have done.

With the inclusion of the series, I find it intriguing that he was sent away by his own father for his safety, yet Eugene would probably have been safer raised in the Dark Kingdom! He's very brave and willing to do anything to protect Rapunzel. He has a defensive mechanism where he can hide behind humour or a fake personae to avoid being hurt, and yet meeting Rapunzel, putting her in danger, and her breaking down, was enough for him to be open with her, and when she did show an interest in the real him, something that no one had really done so before, he responded and told her his story!

I think, for me, Eugene always wanted to be loved, and it wasn't until Rapunzel that he felt he could open up, let the facade of Flynn Rider fall. For me, that is the most intriguing part about him. He pretended to be someone he was not, until he found the right person who could love him for who he really is, who gave him a reason to change, who gave him a reason to be Eugene Fitzherbert again instead of Flynn Rider.

Headcanons about Eugene? Erm. Well. This is probably more evident in my current fics at the moment. But I always believed Eugene had more of a reason to be connected to the Moonstone than Varian. He's the Prince of the Kingdom! There is something symbolic about the Princess of the Sun Kingdom and the Prince of the Moon Kingdom ending up together. I'm deep into writing MoonEugene stories at the moment - an idea that hasn't fully been explored by a lot of fanfic writers! It's about time we had more MoonEugene! Right?

Thank you so much for this wonderful ask!