#wait but now I remembered about this other thing I thought I could try drawing!

[sweetteaanddragons]

B2MEM - "Competition"

@spring-into-arda (692 words; a long time ago I wrote a Hunger Games AU for the Silm; this takes place in a slightly different universe, but explores the same concept)

Maglor had won his Games by -

Well, it depended on which of the Games analysts you asked, naturally. He had seen them all, looping on reruns late at night as he paced, sleepless, through a living room with more chairs than he would ever need. Each of the analysts had their own theory on just what was most important about his Games, though which theory got the most screentime depended on just how happy the Capitol was with him at present.

He had won his Games by running away.

(True, of course. From the very first moment it was safe to run from the starting plate, to this moment, right now, when he was standing at the very last window on the very last car of the train rather than being anywhere remotely useful. He had long ago ceased trying to deny even to himself that it was what he had done, over and over again.)

He had won his Games by winning the crowd.

(If he had only kept his mouth shut. If he had run quietly, run alone, if he had never opened his mouth to sing . . . He had been dangerous. From a known family of rebels. If he had stayed quiet, he would probably be safely dead now. If he had won anyway, he would probably be safely obscure now.)

(But he never could just keep his mouth shut.)

He had won his Games by getting his competition to underestimate him.

(He thinks the president believes that one. He wishes he knew some way to convince him that no, he really did run. He really did mean it. All the flashes of anything else were just - remnants. Flashes of what his family had deserved for him to be.)

(But it hadn’t been enough to save them, and it wouldn’t be enough to disturb the Capitol, so please, please, please, stop trying to break what’s already ground to dust - )

None of them ever really bring up that he had won his Games by slitting three throats. 

(Four? Three and a half? He can never decide if the last one counts. He could look it up, of course, but the Capitol does not get to decide this. He is not even sure if he gets to decide this.)

It wasn’t worth mentioning, he supposed. It wasn’t anywhere near a record kill count for a Victor; it wasn’t a particularly memorable way of committing the kills. He was a Victor. Of course he had killed. 

So had a lot of others in the arena, and it hadn’t saved them. It had to have been something else that made him different.

Luck. Or running. Or acting. Or winning the crowd.

He had told each tribute had to mentor something different. Whatever he thought would fit best for their strategy.

See, this will work for you. I know, because it worked for me. Don’t you want to be like me?

(He left that last part out since the answer any sane person would give was too obviously “No,” and the last thing the tributes needed in there was doubting whether or not they really wanted to win this.)

Only now . . .

Now it was Elrond, waiting back in the dining car and no doubt comforting the other tribute, the tribute Maglor couldn’t even let himself think of, because it was down to him to mentor them both, but it couldn’t be both of them.

It couldn’t be her.

And he had to decide, here and now, in a train car that in a few weeks would hold a minimum of one coffin, exactly what it was he had done, exactly what it was he could teach, that would keep it from being two.

Luck. Or running. Or acting. Or winning the crowd.

The glass of the window felt very cold against his hands.

They had felt cold twenty years ago when they were wrapped around steel and drawing blood.

He was not what his family had been.

But perhaps the Capitol really should have done a better job of remembering that when it had come down to it, he had stopped running and started slitting throats.

[missdynamighttt]

i wholeheartedly BELIEVE that bf! katsuki would make you sit on his lap and help you do your eyeliner when you struggle with it sometimes.

you were sitting at your vanity, getting ready to go out with katsuki to meet some friends. but you were struggling with your holy grail: your eyeliner. normally you'd be able to do it perfectly but something just felt off about today.

no matter how many times you tried, the pen (or maybe your hand) just wouldn’t cooperate. the wing was either higher or thicker than the other, and it seemed noticeable.

you wipe what feels like the umpteenth failed attempt with a sigh, catching your boyfriend's attention as he lounged on your bed.

katsuki noticed the frustration on your face, silently watching as you rubbed your eye for a few seconds before finally speaking up.

"havin' trouble?" he asked, his voice monotone as usual. from his spot on the bed, he could see just how annoyed you were.

you let out a frustrated sigh as you glance at your reflection in the mirror. it morphs into a pout as you attempt your eyeliner again, determined to perfect it. "uh-huh..."

katsuki chuckled at your pouty face, getting up and approaching you from behind. he looked over you, watching the failed attempts closely as his hands brushed your shoulder.

with a sigh, he offers a hand to you. "give it here. let me do it."

you contemplated, but then you recall how katsuki's eyeliner always looked flawless. your thoughts drift back to your days in ua, remembering how he would wear his hero costume with his eyeliner to fill in the gaps of his mask.

it was always sharp, precise, you fawned over him whenever he chose to do a cat-eye that day. it didn't fail to make him look a hundred times hotter.

"alright," a soft smile spreads across your lips, handing the eyeliner pencil to him. you looked up at him, waiting for him to start tracing.

but he had other plans.

katsuki instructs you to stand up, squeezing your shoulder. "get up, sweetheart," he says, his tone gentle but firm. "i'll take the seat and you can sit on my lap."

"oh, is that so?" you grin with a hint of suspicion. "i'm starting to think you have an ulterior motive, katsuki."

despite your teasing, you comply and get up from the chair, crossing your arms as you watch him settle into the seat.

katsuki rolled his eyes, a frown on his face from your comment. "hmph. maybe i just wanna help my girl out. poor thing can't even do her eyeliner." he looks up at you, his expression softening, and pats his thigh.

"now... c'mere, sweets."

you bite your lip and nod, moving to settle, straddling him on his lap. you can feel the firmness of his thighs beneath you, his hand on your hips, steadying you as he holds your eyeliner in the other.

katsuki scoffs as a subtle blush appears on his face, watching as you settle yourself on top of him. he wraps one of his strong arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

he was pretty close to you, reaching up to brush some hair out of your face. he hummed, gently angling your head, positioning your chin to get a better look.

"so..." he mumbles, studying your face for a moment, as if imagining the art he would put in his canvas. "stay still. i need to focus."

"or what?" you'll get a boner?"

"shut it, brat. you want me to do this or not?"

he scoffs as you nodded up at him with a cheeky grin, taking hold of the pen and bringing it up to your eyes.

"tch. remember what i said. stay. still."

katsuki carefully starts drawing the line, using his free hand to gently hold the skin around your eye.

he really does try his best to keep his cool. but its hard when he can feel your breath on his face, the warmth of your body, and your gaze. it's distracting as hell, but he keeps himself focused on the task at hand.

he's determined to perfect your eyeliner.

you couldn't help but watch him. the experience felt oddly intimate, despite doing way more explicit stuff with him. he's so focused, a look of intense concentration on his face as the eyeliner glides across your eyelid. it was kind of cute.

katsuki bites his tongue as he moves onto the other eye. he notices you staring at him, but he tries his best to ignore it. he doesn't want to mess up this eyeliner because of a simple, silly distraction.

but he would be lying if he said his heart didnt skip a beat. he takes a deep breath and continues, trying to steady his hand.

"quit starin', sweetheart."

"i'm not! where am i even supposed to look?"

you scoff, but make a conscious effort to keep your face still, avoiding any sudden movements so katsuki wouldn't suddenly smudge his work.

he huffs, adjusting you in his lap, inadvertently pulling you closer. your scent was driving him crazy, and the feeling of you on his lap was starting to get him worked up. it was becoming difficult to focus.

"anywhere else. pay attention to somethin' else."

"likeeeee?"

katsuki lets out a sharp breath and tries to distract himself. but it wasn't working.

the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to bend you over on the vanity and do unspeakable things to you. but no, he couldn't. he needed to finish this damn eyeliner first. and go out with a few friends before he has you for the rest of the night.

"i don't know. the ceiling, the damn wall... just somethin' that isn't me."

"aww, how come? you're not getting distracted from this, are you?"

his breath hitches as you tease him again. damn it. damn this woman. he was doing good on keeping it together until you started talking, but now it was getting difficult.

katsuki doesn't respond right away, he's too focused on your goddamn eyeliner, trying to ignore the feeling of you in his lap. he focuses intently on getting it right. but he could feel the heat starting to pool in his pants. he's not sure how much more of this he can take.

a tiny smile tugged at the corners of your lips, but you suppressed it, holding back the urge to annoy katsuki further. you waited patiently as he continues to draw the line, the pen gliding smoothly on your eyelid. you were super eager to tease him more.

katsuki finally finishes the last stroke, his hand shaking slightly as he puts the pen down. he tries to keep a neutral expression, but the heat in his face betrays him. he lets out a shaky breath and looks up at you, his eyes darkening as he locks eyes with you.

"there," he mutters, his voice hoarse. "finished it."

your eyes twinkled with appreciation as you looked at yourself in the mirror, running your fingers through your hair as you looked at his handiwork.

his work never failed to amaze you. his hand always such precision that made it great for things like this. you spun around to face katsuki, a giddy smile on your lips.

"oh my god, katsuki! you did an amazing job. holy shit, i look like a million bucks!" you leaned in and planted a big, sloppy kiss on his cheek, grinning widely. "seriously, i'm like, ten times hotter now! you're a genius!"

katsuki lets out a soft gasp when you kiss him, his blush deepening. he was relieved to finally be done with the eyeliner so he could put his focus elsewhere. he was happy you're happy. but now he has an entirely different problem... "yeah... i know. you look gorgeous, sweetheart. always do."

he swallows hard, his eyes focused on yours. he doesn't say anything at first, letting out a shaky breath as he processes how hot you look right now. all he wants to do is fuck you right there, show you how much he likes your eyeliner, but he's trying to hold himself back. he's not sure how long he'll succeed, though.

you notice katsuki staring off into space, head titled as a hint of concern crosses your features. you called out his name gently, voice laced with a note of amusement. "katsuki? baby, you with me?"

katsuki hums in response, his hands gripping your hips a little harder. he can feel himself getting more heated, your voice making him feel almost dizzy with desire. "mhm?"

as katsuki shakes his head and snaps back to reality, your can't help but bite your lip, suppressing a smile.

"you okay? you looked like a deer in headlights."

he lets out a sharp breath, letting his head fall to the crook of your neck. he knows you've noticed how riled up he is right now.

this is going to be harder than he thought.

"m'fine. just... just give me a second.."

a soft chuckle escapes your lips as you brush your fingers through his hair, affectionately playing with the strands. you smirk at his question, a hint of playful sarcasm lacing your voice.

"okay... for what, though? what you thinking about, tough guy?"

katsuki lets out a shudder at your touch, his grip on your hips tightening a bit more. you're a wicked, wicked woman to him. he lifts his head up to look at you again, his eyes roaming your body.

he can't even form a coherent thought, your touch sending jolts of heat straight through his body. this was not the time for you to play coy.

"you.. god, you.. need to stop that."

"stop what?"

he can feel his patience thinning rapidly. you're driving him wild, he has to do something about this.

"stop.. touchin' me," he mutters, his hand moves to grip your wrist, gently pulling your hand away from his hair.

you feign disappointment, lower lip sticking out in an exaggerated pout. you looked at him with a feigned look of dejection, gently shifting your weight as if preparing to leave his lap. "aww, okay. i guess i could get off your lap... but i was getting comfortable, y'know..."

katsuki immediately grabs your hips, anchoring them underneath him, stopping you.

"no. stay."

he lets out a shaky breath, his eyes looking up at yours. he's desperately trying to keep his cool, but his eyes are practically filled with lust. his body is aching for you, the heat in his stomach is slowly becoming uncomfortable.

he buries his head back in the crook of your neck. his hands rub your hips, squeezing the flesh softly, but with a firm pressure.

"i just need a damn minute."

you let out a soft, playful chuckle, enjoying how flustered he looks as you shift your weight in his lap, grinding against his crotch a little.

"for what? for it to go down?"

katsuki lets out a low, guttural moan against your neck when you do that, his grip on your hips tightening as his body responds to your touch. his head is clouded with a fog of lust, and he honestly can't think straight.

"shit.. stop that, jesus..." he whimpers out, his hands grabbing at your hips and holding you in place so you can't move. "for the love of god, stop movin' like that or i'll.."

"c'mon, katsuki.." you giggle softly, your voice is soft and sultry as you lean in, hot breath tickling his ear. "can we have some fun?"

your hands trail down his thighs, your touch sending shivers down his spine as you rubs and caress his legs, hands dangerously near his crotch.

katsuki shivers from the touch, his thighs muscles tensing under your touch. he lets out a shaky breath, trying desperately to find the willpower to resist you. but he's losing the battle faster than he knows.

he's completely at your mercy.

"we... we can't.. we have to leave soon.." he groans, his hands slowly traveling up your side and to your chest, his fingers rubbing against the soft flesh. "sweets, we're gonna end up skippin' the whole damn thing if you don't cut it out.."

you look up at him, biting your lip in anticipation. your hand dips beneath his waistband, fingers teasing along the sensitive ache in between his legs.

"can we be a little late, katsuki? please...?" you purr, your other hand tracing lazy circles across his chest.

katsuki lets out a deep moan as you touch him, his hips bucking slightly into your hand. his head falls back as you trail kisses down his jaw, his self-control starting to break. this is torture. pure, blissful torture.

your hand moves lower, gently fondling his length through the fabric. "just a few minutes..."

katsuki's breath hitches at the contact, he lets out a loud gasp and throws his head back at the feeling. his fingers dig into your side slightly as his body tenses up. he can barely focus on anything else besides your touch.

"goddamnit... f-fine, but only... only for a few minutes."

that was what katsuki said before he bent you over your vanity. needless to say, it wasn't just "a few minutes".

you were 2 hours late.

but even with your sex hair™, your clothes wrinkled and your disheveled look: your eyeliner still looked flawless.

and you had your boyfriend to thank for that.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ���┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ super self-indulgent as an eyeliner girlie oml 😞😞 sorry for the lack of smut, been struggling with school lately and i wanted to feed you guys!! to the people requesting, pls read that i cant accept them rn 😭 tysm!!

[kajibunny]

you are my most favorite! ⋆⭒˚.⋆ w/ the wind breaker boys

✿ featuring: haruka sakura, hayato suo, ren kaji, hajime umemiya, jo togame, mitsuki kiryu ✿ contains: fluff, f!reader, established relationship ✿ a/n: this is quite near and dear to my heart! all of them have such unique personalities and interests, that i find myself reading their character profiles again and again hihi i hope you cuties like it~ (ㅅ´ ˘ `) ♡ ✿ wc: 1.7k

— your boyfriend definitely has his most beloved things and possessions, but his most favorite of them all? you, his favorite person.

ʚɞ sakura - 

you knew how much sakura loves omurice, and him sharing his food was definitely out of the question. however, he couldn’t resist how you lovingly stared at him while he ate the omurice you made for him like it was his last meal. 

“does it taste good, haru?” you asked, as he has not said a word since you handed over the special bento box you made for him. sakura nods, a small ‘hm’ escaping his mouth. you just love seeing him so happy and so full of life whenever food comes into the equation. 

“feed me too.” you murmured, pleading with puppy dog eyes. you hoped he'd catch on, sensing your wish to share a tender moment, just like those couples you’ve seen, sweetly feeding each other on their dates. 

sakura stops eating his omurice for a second, turning his attention to you and trying to absorb what you just said. “h-hah? you have hands, don’t you?” 

you pout and cross your arms at him. “it tastes better when it’s from you.” you put the spoon back in his hands, and open your mouth to say ‘ah’, waiting for him to give you a spoonful of his food.

he looks away with an evident blush on his cheeks. sakura found it difficult to say no to you, especially when you were being all cute like this. he scoops up some omurice with his spoon, and raises it up to your lips. “fine, but hurry up, it’s embarrassing…”

maybe sakura could make an exception and share his favorite food with his favorite person, after all.

ʚɞ kaji - 

kaji is generally quite protective of his things, his treasured headphones were a gift from the person he looks up to the most, his hoodie is among one of the few clothes he has in his closet, his lollipop was the only thing that kept him calm whenever he was close to throwing a fit of anger. 

that was until you came along and you became the thing he wanted to protect the most.

you and kaji were walking home together from your date, his headphones hanging around his neck the whole time, so he could listen to you talk. the night air was crisp, and kaji immediately noticed how chilly your hand was while he held it in his. he let go of your hand for a little while, much to your dismay.

“you’re cold, so stop whining.” kaji sighs, grabbing your hands and exhaling warm air on them, before taking off his hoodie and putting it on you, the softness of the fabric immediately making you feel warmer, making your cheeks heat up as well.

“thank you, ren.” you smiled, tiptoeing to kiss his cheek as you continued talking his ear off on the way home, fingers intertwined with his as you swayed them happily while walking. 

kaji couldn’t get enough of you like this - something in him just can’t resist how cute you look wearing his hoodie. maybe, he thought, this could be his new favorite thing.

as soon as the both of you arrived at your doorstep, you refused to let go of kaji’s hand. “i just want to be with you a little more, ren…” you said to him.

“we’ll see each other tomorrow. for now, here’s something for you to remember me by.” kaji pulls his lollipop out of his mouth, caressing your cheek with his thumb as he draws you in close, kissing you with so much want and need, making sure that he and the sweet taste of his lollipop flavored kisses are all you’ll ever think about for the whole entire night.

maybe, you thought, this could be your new favorite thing too.

ʚɞ umemiya - 

gardening is umemiya’s greatest passion, and when he found out you shared his love for it, he was over the moon. wanting to share something deeply personal, he decided to invite you to his most cherished place - his rooftop garden.

he takes your hand gently, leading you up the staircase until you two reach his garden. you were greeted by a breathtaking view of carefully arranged pots and planters, nurtured by umemiya’s own hands.

“wow, these are so pretty, haji!” you admire his plants with fascinated eyes, following him along into the plant beds where he kept his vegetables.

“these are my favorites!” he points at his lush and plump tomatoes, and he also shows you his other vegetables and sprouting seedlings. “they all have different needs, different personalities…they’re just like people, in a way.” he turns to you, with a look full of love and affection. you knew how much his little garden meant to him, as he always described it with such passion whenever he proudly showed you the images on his phone, updates here and there as well as his eyes sparkling with excitement while looking at them. 

kind of like the way he looks at you too.

“you know, you kind of remind me of this garden, sweet pea.” he smiles softly at you. 

“really, how so?” you tilt your head curiously.

he steps closer to you, as umemiya envelopes you in a soft embrace. “you make me want to take care of you, like i do with these plants.” he presses a kiss to the top of your head as you lean into him, feeling as cherished as the garden he so lovingly nurtured. 

ʚɞ togame - 

you’ve always been quite curious to try togame’s favorite drink, the one that’s always pressed to his lips - his beloved ramune. 

as you watched him, your eyes were locked onto the bottle in his hand, tracing every movement as he grasps it firmly, pressing down the plastic opener with his thumb, applying pressure to release the marble and all of the drink’s carbonation. he did all this with just one hand, the same hand that lifted the bottle to his lips for a sip.

you were too busy imagining those big, strong, calloused hands on you to realize that togame had started speaking.

“would you like a taste, angel?” he asks you, offering you the bottle of ramune. you were way too fixated on him and how attractive he is that you fumble slightly with your words. 

“a taste of you…r ramune, yes, of course!” you stammered, chuckling nervously as a blush crept up your cheeks, flustered by your own thoughts.

you didn’t miss the way he tried to cover up his smile by clearing his throat, handing you the drink, watching as you took a sip. “so? do you like it? or perhaps…” he trailed off, taking the ramune from your hands and setting it down on the table. 

“do you like this more?” in one smooth motion, he leans in close, his breath warm against your lips. togame’s mouth touches yours, a slow and gentle kiss that made your heart flutter, leaving a trace of his warmth on your lips even after he pulled away, his forehead resting gently against yours as you both smiled, breathless and content.

you had a feeling that togame wanted you more than he wanted the ramune.

ʚɞ suo -

suo’s love for tea is unmatched - he’s practically an expert who has a ritualistic passion for every step of the process. the only thing that can possibly surpass his love and devotion to tea? is his love and devotion to you.

he happily teaches you the art of perfectly steeping tea, but of course, knowing suo, he uses this as an excuse to get as close to you in proximity as he possibly can.

he hums contentedly as he embraces your form from behind, guiding your delicate hands as you grind the tea leaves, his breath tickling your ear as he whispers instructions.

yet his calm, soothing voice and the way he holds you makes it impossible to focus on anything other than the heat of his body and the intimate closeness you share. if anything, this proved to be more of a distraction than him being an effective teacher by any means.

who knew simply making tea could be this intimate?

“i can’t concentrate because of you, hayato.” you huff, feeling his body pressing against yours, trapping you against the kitchen counter.

he chuckles softly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “hm? i haven’t done anything.” he teases, his tone light but with a hint of mischief. “this is just what’s necessary if you want to make good tea.”

you can’t help but blush, your heart racing. “what’s necessary? you being clingy with me?”

suo’s arms tighten slightly around you, pulling you even closer.

“exactly. the best tea is supposed to be made with love.” he whispers, his voice low and velvety, leaving you wondering whether it’s the tea or suo behind you making your heart steep in warmth. 

ʚɞ kiryu - 

“aww, i have to log in again.” kiryu sighs, pouting at his phone screen while you two cuddled on his cat-shaped beanbag chair like you do every night. you glanced over at his phone, his favorite game blasting him with countless notifications, demanding his attention, just as the two of you were getting comfortable.

you sighed softly, opening your palm toward him. “hand it over.” you said, “i’ll do your daily login bonus for you.” it was best to get it out of the way quickly so you could get back to what really mattered - more cuddle time with your sweet boyfriend.

kiryu’s eyes lit up with gratitude as he handed you the phone. “really? thank you, princess! i love you~”

you paused, fingers hovering over the screen, heart skipping a beat at his words. “mitsuki… did you just say-”

“yep, i love you!” he repeated without hesitation, his eyes sparkling with sincerity.

a smile tugged at your lips, warmth spreading through your lightly flushed cheeks. “...i might have to do this for you every night, then. also, i love you too.” you cooed at him.

kiryu’s grin widened as he pulled you even closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “okay then, i might have to do this for you every night, too!” he declared, peppering your face with playful kisses.

“help, i won’t be able to log in for you if you do that!” your joyful giggles filling the room as kiryu continued his affectionate assault. his phone lay forgotten as the two of you continued to tumble into a fit of laughter, your smile being the biggest bonus he could ever achieve.

© kajibunny 2024 / all rights reserved

[yeagersss]

Sukuna after his defeat at Shinjuku — He ends up as your... pet... blob?

Like the last thing he remembers is proudly declaring to Yuuji's foolish requests of starting over that he's a curse and then he remembers just drifting away to what he believed would be an eternal slumber for him.

But then he's confused because suddenly it's dark, he's confined into a tight space and he could hear... muffled voices of someone singing...?

You had just moved into your new place, your grandfather's old home in the outskirts of a small town. A quiet and peaceful place especially far away from loud and terribly dangerous city that Tokyo had become.

You were an aspiring artist and you believed that you will draw so much inspiration from your new home.

You opened one of your boxes while humming a soft tune and jumped when you saw... something??? in it. A weird... blob looking—maybe it's some weird deformed one eyed frog? How did it end up in your box??

Sukuna squinted his eye at the sudden brightness and glared up at you. This is not... the afterlife, right? What the hell is this??

You curiously lifted your hand to touch the weird blob frog and then suddenly... it spoke.

"Touch me and I will slice your finger off, stupid woman."

Needless to say you screamed and flipped the entire box over. Before scrambling to the far side of the room.

Poor Sukuna is now buried helplessly under some books and other shit and that's when he realized he was still in that... weak and disgusting form Yuuji had reduced him to.

As he was wiggling out of the pile while thinking about the fact that this is probably hell, you are in the far corner, holding a pair of kitchen tongs and tense up when you see him before shouting "What the HELL are you???"

And before he could open his mouth to even threaten you further or maybe even cut you up, he gets pounced by a fluffy white... Cat.

"What the—get off of me! Unhand me this instant!! WOMAN, control your creature or I will end it's life!!" Sukuna demands as he wiggles away from the cat.

And Sukuna did try to end the cat's life. He really did but to his horror his cursed energy, that used to be as vast as the fucking ocean, was so, so low that he only managed a tiny shallow cut of the cat's paw that it dismissed with a swift lick.

Still you got your cat, Luna, away before that thing could hurt her.

And that is how the King of Curses comes into your life. You don't know that though because to you he's some weird mutated and helpless frog. You had considered tossing him outside but you kinda felt bad for the little guy. (he's so small. Like he can fit in your palm! Even if he does threaten you to die, he would be helpless outside.)

And Sukuna, on the other hand, had went from trying and failing to kill you (and your damn cat) to throwing every creative death threat he can think of to downright ignoring you as he stayed slumped on the floor with his eye closed, trying to tap into his depleted cursed energy. Anything to maybe help him gain his form back or atleast legs so he could walk but luck wasn't in his side at all.

He had stayed like that for a good two days. By that time you were done moving in and organising your stuff. For a second, you thought he was dead but a quick poke with a spatula confirmed he was very much alive when he suddenly threatened to eat your liver.

So anyway Sukuna is stubborn af. He refuses to acknowledged your presence and just stays on the floor meditating or spaced out, trying to figure out a way to get out of this predicament or wait until he has enough CE to actually do something.

But then you bring him food. You realized he hasn't eaten a thing ever since you found him.

"Here. I'm not sure what you eat but with the way you talk about eating my heart or whatever so I'm guessing it's meat." You say as you place a plate of cooked steak in front of him.

For a moment, his pride does not let him touch the food. But then you come back and see the plate completely empty, you smile.

"Can I atleast pick you up and place you by the window? I know you get bored sitting on the floor all day." You ask one day.

Sukuna doesn't say anything and simply glares at you before giving a simple "hmph".

You take that as a yes and carefully scoop him up before placing him on the window sill. The view of the beautiful countryside is incredible and you're sure the little guy will appreciate it.

And Sukuna does, somewhat. After being exposed to the bustling and overwhelming atmosphere of the modern world, he's glad this world still has... some places that remind him of his own era.

You gently place a plate of food next to him and this time, instead of eating when you go away, he eats it while you're still here. He slithers closer to the plate and using his tiny paws, he holds the meat down before taking a large bite.

He glares when you stifle a laugh.

"... What should I call you?" You ask.

Sukuna frowns at that question. It's the first time someone has asked for his own name. He doesn't have one, obviously since all his life, others were the ones who labelled him: demon, monster, god, the Fallen One, the Honored One, the King of Curses, Ryomen Sukuna.

"How does Poupou sound?" You suggested with a grin to which his blood red eye looked at you with nothing but pure hatred.

"Sukuna. Call me that one more time and I will feast on your eyes, you useless woman."

... Sukuna it is then.

[sincerelyneo]

sunflower vol 6 | l.hc

“i couldn’t want you anymore, kiss in the kitchen like it’s a dance floor”

💿now playing: sunflower vol 6 by harry styles

❯ summary: Let’s make dinner together, he said. I’ll behave, he said. Honestly, you should have known that was a lie because when it comes to you, Haechan is never on his best behaviour. That’s why he’s sneaking sly touches every time you complete a step in your recipe.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, fluff, suggestive content

❯ words: 1.4k

❯ tags: tooth rotting fluff, domesticated fluff, swearing, kissing, pet names, literally just hyuck being so boyfriend and them dancing in the kitchen together.

an: i’m a firm believer that harry styles wrote this song about haechan

Hyuck bursts through the front door with a sense of urgency, unable to contain his excitement. It's been months since he last saw you, his girlfriend whom he's more than just a little obsessed with, and the door feels like just another barrier in his way. He thought his job, which requires him to tour for half the year, was obstacle enough.

"Baby, I'm home!" he calls out eagerly, scanning the apartment for any sign of you. Disappointment flickers across his face when he doesn't immediately spot you waiting for him with open arms.

The honeyed tone of his voice instead echoes from the living room to your bedroom, drawing you to him like a magnet. Without wasting a moment, you rush down the stairs and wrap your arms around his neck.

You melt into each other effortlessly, as you always do. Your bodies seem custom-made for one another, fitting together perfectly. You've missed his touch, his warmth, in a way that FaceTime calls could never fulfil. Nothing compares to the physical presence of your Hyuck.

You plant a gentle kiss on the soft skin of his cheek before pulling back to meet his gaze. "You weren't supposed to be home for another four hours. What's going on?"

"I got an earlier flight because I missed you so much," he replies with a grin. 

You shake your head, but a smile still tugs at your lips. You've never encountered a man more smitten and in love than him. It's endearing, really. It's the kind of love his friends would tease him about if he didn't take so much pride in it.

You run a hand through your hair, trying to process the fact that he's here in your living room. You're happy, of course, but you had hoped to be all dolled up for his arrival, not standing in old pyjamas after months apart

"Well... are you hungry? We could order takeout if you want. You can tell me all about that tour that's kept you away from me for what feels like forever," you suggest with a smile, and his eyes soften at the invitation

"Babyyy," he whines, catching you off guard a little. His hands slide to your back, pulling you in by your waist as he plants a kiss on top of your head. "Can't we make dinner together?"

You raise an eyebrow, pulling away to look up at him, his hands still wrapped around you. "By 'we,' you mean me?"

"Of course not. You know I make an excellent sous chef. Restaurants should be grateful I chose music instead of culinary arts.” 

You shake your head, with a grin. "We never get anything done when we cook together. Remember last time?"

He smirks, recalling the memory. "It's not my fault you asked me to get something out of the fridge, and when I turned around, you were bent over the counter showing your ass to me. I couldn't help myself."

You give him a deadpan look but he only smirks more.

"And if we're being honest, I remember you loving it." His arms cross over his chest, the satisfaction in him beaming from knowing that you know he's right. You did enjoy those steamy cooking sessions, but not right now; you're hungry.

"Please, baby, I missed your cooking. Nothing any restaurant can make compares to your food," he pleads. "I'll be on my best behaviour."

And although you know better, and you know that there’s no such thing as "best behaviour" with Lee Donghyuck, you still can't resist. And so, you give in. 

Surprisingly, everything goes well. Hyuck isn’t too much of a distraction; instead, he follows your instructions without protest. He grabs ingredients, chops vegetables, and even compliments the head chef— and nothing catches fire.

Progress is being made.

That is until your boyfriend finishes the little tasks you assign him and wraps his arms around your waist while you chop ingredients.

“Hyuck… you promised—”

His plush lips melt against your neck so delicately that you nearly chop off your finger—though Hyuck won’t let that happen, gripping your hands to steady them. He chuckles softly, his lips quirking against your skin.

“I know what I said, Y/N,” he teases. “I’m just trying to help.”

“You’re not trying to help; you’re trying to distract.”

He laughs, “You know… I bought a new record while I was on tour. It has that one song you love.”

You pause, setting the knife down and pressing your hands against the counter as you turn to face him.

“Oh yeah?”

He nods, “I think we should play it while you cook.”

“I thought we were supposed to be cooking together?” 

Hyuck simply chuckles as he heads over to the record player in your kitchen and sets the record spinning. Soft guitar notes fill the space, and despite your need to focus, you can’t help but smile.

You watch as he dances across the cool kitchen tiles, a smirk on his lips, until he stands behind you. His hand finds your elbow, gently pulling you backwards.

The laugh that spills from you is warm and Hyuck matches it as his hands drift down your arms to your hands, fingers threading together before he pulls you back into his broad, solid chest. 

Strong arms cross your own chest, and the two of you start to sway against each other. The music is quiet and grainy and mixed with the sound of your feet creaking on the floor. 

The two of you float back and forth—a stream of sunlight streams in through the high window. You close your eyes and let the light shift across your eyelids. Hyuck’s lips find your ear, singing softly. The sound was gentle and sweet and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’ll never forget the moment I realised I love you.”

You sink further against him, your voice humming as you ask, “Yeah? When was that?”

“The minute I saw you,” he breathes. “You were dancing so carelessly, and I knew then—you were my person. You’ll always be my person.”

You’re grinning like an idiot despite rolling your eyes as you let go of Hyuck’s hands and turn around in his arms. You slide your palms up his chest to wind around the back of his neck, pressing your foreheads together. 

“You’re so cheesy.”

“And you love it,” he responds easily, smiling with his eyes closed as he continues to sway with you in the tiny kitchen of your tiny apartment. You nod, leaning forward to knock your noses together gently with an exaggerated sigh.

“I do. And I love you. I wouldn’t want to spend a minute loving anybody else.”

Hyuck hums, pulling you in closer and starts walking you backwards slowly until your hips rest against the counter. He dips down, curling his hands around the backs of your thighs and effortlessly hoists you up to sit on the edge. You open your eyes and run your fingers through his hair, twisting a perfect little strand around your finger just the way he likes it.

He looks back at you, eyes filled with patience and love. Then he leans in, drawing you into a soft, lazy kiss—because he’s finally home, because he can, because he loves doing it, because it’s all he ever wants to do from now until forever.  You melt against his chest, pressing up into the contact. When you break apart, Hyuck rests his lips against your temple, swaying gently with you in his arms.

“I’m so in love with you,” He says softly.

You rest your cheek against his shoulder and brush your nose back and forth against his neck as you close your eyes and smile.

“I love you too, Hyuck.”

You linger in the warmth of his touch until the sharp beeping of the oven interrupts the moment. You pull away slightly, frowning at the oven’s display.

“Ugh, I forgot I put that in there!” you exclaim, glancing over your shoulder to see smoke beginning to curl from the edges.

Hyuck chuckles, but there is no concern creeping into his voice. “Can’t believe my first meal home is going to be charcoal.” 

You rush to the oven, Hyuck close behind. As you open the door, a plume of smoke escapes, and you cough. 

“This is totally your fault! What happened to you not being distracting?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs, leaning down to plant another soft kiss on your lips. “What can I say? I’m obsessed with you.”

[pinkdaiisies]

Fred Weasley x Reader Favourite

summary: Late night common room cuddles lead to quite eventful mornings.

notes: anybody a fontaines d.c fan? I've had the line: "You've been my, favourite for a long time" stuck in my head for a while.

Fred glanced at you from across the couch in the common room. It was late, and the common room was nearly empty. Even George had gone upstairs because he was tired.

Fred had slowly started to inch closer to you on the couch. The spot that was once occupied by George was now empty, allowing Fred to sneakily sit closer to you. You paid no attention to him, your gaze followed the words within your potions textbook, preparing you for your exam later next week.

You and Fred have been playing this game for a while now. Lingering glances, legs touching on train rides, sitting too close in the great hall, and even late night common room cuddles.

It was tearing you apart.

You were best friends with Fred and George since the first train ride to Hogwarts. As the years progressed you realized how much Fred meant to you. Although it seemed like Fred felt the same way, it was too nerve-racking to have a conversation about it. Because what if you were imagining the stolen glances, or the hand holding that lasted too long for just friends? You'd rather just enjoy it than to put a label on it and ruin something great. Because at the end of the day he really was your best friend.

The heat from the fire comforted you as you tried to retain the information from the book. Eventually, you felt Fred at your side, still paying him no mind.

"Hey," he said while taking your chin into his hand, guiding your gaze from the pages to his freckled adorned face. You knew he could tell the exam was eating you up inside. "Take a break, would you?" He whispered softly. His voice sent butterflies to your stomach. You nodded reluctantly as you closed the book and tossed it to the ground.

Fred put his arm around you, and you rested your head on his shoulder. You two had spent many nights like this. Waiting for everyone in the common room to leave just to spend some time alone, rushing back to your dorms before anyone would suspect anything.

You two chatted about nothing important for a while. Fred occasionally tracing patterns onto your leg. The motions being extremely relaxing, made your eyelids feel heavier. The last thing you remember was Fred whispering in your ear about pretty you looked with the lighting from the fire.

Next thing you know, you're laying horizontal, Freds arms completely around you. Your back was to his chest, with your legs scrunched due to the size of the couch. Your hands were intermingled with his.

"Harry do you still have that muggle camera? I have got to remember this forever!" The voice of George made you wake up a bit.

"Merlins beard!" Ron's shout made both you and Fred jump up.

You both looked at each other. Realization setting in at the same time. With widened eyes, you separated from Fred, adjusting your clothes from the day before.

What felt like the entire Gryffindor class, was in the common room staring at you two.

With overlapped shouts trying to defend yourselves, you and Fred slowly backed into the dorm entrance to make your escape.

You got dressed and clean as quick as you could. Although you wish you could curl up into a ball and never leave your dorm ever, you grabbed your bag and descended toward the great hall for breakfast.

You entered the common room in a rush. Fred was waiting for you. The common room was empty besides the couple sitting on the couch you and Fred had fallen asleep on. The boy kissed his girlfriend on the cheek as she giggled.

You kept walking in a rush while Fred caught up with you. You turned towards him as you stopped walking.

"What are we going to say Fred! This wouldn't have happened if you had just let me keep studying!" You whisper shouted, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourselves.

"What do you mean! I thought you wanted this as badly as I do!" Fred shouted back.

"What do you mean?" You said as you looked up at him.

"Well, obviously I'm in love with you! I thought you were too, but if you want to pretend this never happened go ahead!" He turned for the common room exit, but before he could leave you grabbed his wrist.

"Are you sure?... that you're in love with me?" you asked nervously. Having this conversation was just as scary as you had imagined.

Fred said your name softly, "We fell asleep on the same couch together, what do you think?" This caused you to giggle.

"I love you too." You smiled up at Fred who pulled you into a hug.

"Let's get breakfast. I'm starving." Fred said as he grabbed your hand and guided you to the great hall.

[iamnotoriginalphil]

That Italicized Oh Feeling (Olivia Benson x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Once Babs points it out to her, Liv has a hard time denying what's staring her right in the face. Why does she seem to have all the symptoms of a crush around you?

Words: 5.9k

Warnings: Normal SVU cases, swearing, jealousy, alcohol

Olivia wouldn’t have even thought about it if Babs hadn’t said anything. If Elliot hadn’t fed into it. If you hadn’t laughed in that way of yours, your eyes sparkling with mirth at the whole thing. It would have been so easy to continue on and never investigate any of those things about herself. She could have lived in blissful ignorance.

But your existence wouldn’t let her.

Keep mentioning you

“You can just ask her, you know?”

Olivia’s mouth snapped shut.

“Ask who?” she asked.

Your name made her still. Elliot was looking at her with that expectant gaze that made her shift her weight from foot to foot.

“Why would I ask her?” she asked.

“You keep bringing her up,” he replied.

She blinked, mouth snapping shut. Any argument was gone from her lips. She hadn’t thought she was bringing you up that often. It wasn’t even a conscious thought. But maybe she had.

Shaking her head, she turned away from him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, El,” she said.

“You’re usually much more convincing,” he called after her retreating back.

Keep thinking about you

After a long day at work, Olivia knew that sinking down onto her couch with a large glass of wine might not be the cure to her thoughts, but it didn’t hurt. Her head fell back, a long sigh parting her lips before she took a long drink from her wine. Some cases ate at her more than others.

With her eyes closed, the image of you from that day flashed through her mind. The way she saw your heart break right there in front of her. Lips parting, eyebrows drawing together, eyes widening. The soft light hitting the tears gathering along your lower lids.

It was stupid how beautiful you were even when upset.

She took another long drink from her wine before standing up. Food was a good idea if she planned on drinking at the rate she was. Her mind flitted away from the task, wondering what you were eating tonight, if you were eating tonight, if you needed a drink as much as she did.

Placing the order for takeout, she sunk down again, cradling the glass in both hands, forearms resting against her thighs. Staring into the dark red liquid, she swirled it, trying to read what was to come in the future like it was tea leaves.

You’d done so well that day, fighting for the kids she hadn’t be able to be there for. Finding you in the precinct with a group of them, keeping them distracted and entertained as they waited for the parents to come find them, she’d let herself watch you. Even now she could see you. All soft smiles and patience, sweet voice and twinkling eyes. That image was burned in her head.

The knock on the door broke her form the replay of your actions that day. Standing, she opened the door, offering money to the delivery man before taking the food back inside. Sitting, she unpacked it, knowing she’d ordered more than she needed. But clutched in her hands was your favourite and she couldn’t even remember ordering it.

She ate the entire thing, working out why you loved it so much. It was almost like having you there with her. It was a surprisingly comforting thought.

Trying to impress you

Olivia wasn’t one to spend a lot of time in the gym. She’d done enough to always get through the physicals she had to, but it wasn’t her preferred hobby. That was, until she’d found out you liked to go down there when you were especially frustrated with a case to try and work it out of your system.

You were on the treadmill, steady pace as you glared. She could practically hear the gears turning in your head. Doing her best to act as if she wasn’t paying attention to you, she walked past, heading to the weight station.

She was strong. She knew she was. She wanted you to know it too.

Warming up, she glanced over her shoulder to find your head titled as you watched her. She shot you a small smile before she turned away, pretending to focus on her own workout.

She couldn’t understand the burning desire to show off in front of you. But she was willing to indulge it, if only to take the edge off so she could focus on the case too.

Taking her place at the bench press, she lay down. She focused on the weight in her hands, muscles working. It was easy to ignore your presence, even if she wanted to know if you were watching.

“Shouldn’t you have someone spotting you?”

She heaved the bar back onto the stand before sitting up. You were standing by her, sweat slicked skin and bright eyes, staring down at her.

“I’m fine,” she said, wiping the back of her hand over her forehead.

“Really? Because with weights like this you could do some serious damage,” you said, finger running along the bar her fingers has so recently been curled around.

“I can handle it,” she said.

“And as impressive as that is, I’ll just be wracked with guilt if I saw this and did nothing and you had an accident,” you said.

“You think I don’t have this?” she asked, a scoff of a question.

“Maybe.” You shrugged, “or maybe I just wanted an excuse to get a closer seat to the show.”

Heat spread over her skin. She lay back down, not having a smart remark, having gotten essentially what she wanted. You were completely focused on her as she showed off her strength. There was something addictive about doing it under your watchful gaze.

Gazing at you

Your head tipped back, the laugh on your lips light and airy. Your hair caught the morning light, shining like something out of a dream. Your lips were curled up in a delighted smile, all soft edges and sweet curves.

Olivia felt her heart constrict just looking at you, chin resting in the palm of her hand, pen clutched loosely in the other. She’d been watching long enough to know she was procrastinating her paperwork. You were a nice distraction.

You shook your hair back from your face. Leaning over, her eyes caught on the way the neckline of your shirt dipped. Shadows and light played over your skin and she found herself hypnotised. She couldn’t look away.

You were so beautiful.

Someone passed between you and her, breaking her gaze. Shaking her head, she looked back down at her report. It was hardly as captivating as you were.

A movement in her periphery, her eyes darted back up, finding you as you turned towards her. Your gaze landed on her and she watched as your lips pulled up on one side. She should have been embarrassed, being caught watching you. She would have.

But your eyes swept over her and she found herself preening. Leaning back, she offered more of herself to your gaze. She didn’t even think about it. She wanted you looking at her the way she looked at you.

A blaze of heat went through her.

Your smirk only made it worse. Turning away from her, she let the disappointment fade away, eyes lingering on you. There was no reason you should be so captivating, but she was finding it hard to look away.

She always seemed to find it hard to look away from you.

Seeking you out

Olivia was staring at the board, the faces of the victims staring back at her. Arms crossed over her chest, her lips pursed. Elliot was at his desk, watching her with that heavy gaze that always made her skin itch, like he could see more than she wanted him to.

You had taken the morning off. Something about an appointment you couldn’t get out of. Curiosity had been eating away at her all morning. Then, when you’d breezed in, it was with a cheery hello, nothing more. Now, sequestered upstairs, she could feel your presence even if she couldn’t see you.

“What’re you thinking?” Elliot asked.

Something he wouldn’t appreciate hearing.

“Didn’t someone have something on the fingerprints?” she asked.

“Yeah.” His eyes darted up to where she knew you were sitting.

It was all the excuse she needed.

You looked up from the food you were in the middle of consuming, a sub from the bodega down the street. Wiping your mouth on the back of your hand, you grinned. Something in her chest calmed, while butterflies erupted in her stomach.

“What’s up?” you asked, leaning back.

Something in her chest settled seeing you. She straddled the chair across from you, eyes sweeping over you. You let her without question.

“You had the report with the fingerprints, right?” she asked.

“Sure, it’s sitting on my desk,” you replied.

She watched you suck on your fingertip, tongue flicking over it to remove the sauce before you reached for a napkin. With your hollowed cheeks and your pretty eyes watching her, heat skittered over her skin.

“You need help finding it?” you asked.

“Your desk is a mess,” she said, letting herself smile at you.

“Organised chaos,” you shot back, “c’mon Benson. Surely you can find a measly file on your own.”

“Indulge me,” she said.

“I always do.” Your hand lingered on her shoulder as you passed by.

“Subtle,” Elliot said as she walked past, following you back to your desk.

She ignored him, the idiot, refusing to admit to what he was saying. Or implying. Wanting you to join them help put another predator behind bars wasn’t weird. It didn’t have to mean anything.

It didn’t.

Protective

The man shouldn’t have even managed to get into the building. Let alone with a gun. He should have been stopped before he could even enter the building. Someone was going to have their ass handed to them.

But he was practically foaming out the mouth, shouting for someone, his face a splotchy red.

Olivia had been standing with you, grabbing a cup of coffee, chatting about your plans for the weekend. She wouldn’t say she’d been fishing for information but she did keep prodding for answers. She was curious about what you got up to outside of work. There was no way she would admit to thinking about it as often as she did.

At first, she’d ignored the shouting, nudging you to keep talking. With her eyes on you, it was easy to block out the rest of the world. You smiled and she found herself leaning closer.

When the first shot rang out, she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

It was instinct, the way she reached out, forcing you down. Her body covered yours, eyes scanning over the precinct, trying to find where the shots were coming from. Your fingers curled around her forearm, digging in.

She crowded you back against the wall, hidden under the table. A roar punctured the air. She could feel the tremble in your body, keeping herself between you and the danger. She wasn’t about to let anything happen to you.

He crashed through the doors, huge and imposing, lunging forward as he screamed. Your sharp inhalation of breath was loud to her ears, even with the rage. The gun in his hand was being waved around indiscriminately.

It was Elliot who took him down. Of course it was. Testosterone meets testosterone.

She extended a hand to you, helping you to your feet once the man had been disarmed and thrown in lock up. She could feel the tremble in your hand. When your gaze met hers, it was wide eyed, the glisten of tears already receding.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” you said, hand hitting her bicep.

“Do what?” she asked.

“Put yourself in danger,” you said.

She might be able to tell your legs were shaking, but your lips were pressed together and you were fierce. It took her breath away.

“Reflex,” she said with a small shrug.

“I can’t have anything happen to you,” you said, “what would I do if it did?”

Something warm bloomed in her chest.

Butterflies

You laughed, bright and happy, fingers curling around the drink she’d just deposited in front of you. Closing a case always brought out this lighter side in you, like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders and you could breathe again. She slid into the booth beside you.

Your thigh was pressed against hers, shoulder brushing her. You were leaning over the table, uncaring of how sticky it was from spilled beer and drunken antics. Elliot was leaning back, debating you about the joys of living in a dorm at college.

“You’re coming at it from the perspective of a father,” you said.

“Well, I have to,” he said back.

“Consider how much growing your kids will go through. They’ll learn to be adults when they don’t have the crutch of you and Kathy to fall back on,” you said.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” he said.

“Wouldn’t it be nice not to do their laundry?”

He just raised an eyebrow at you.

“Liv, back me up here.”

You turned to her, grinning right in her face. It happened in a moment, the flutter of something exploding in her stomach. She blinked, looking down at you, not sure what to do with the feeling. You were still smiling. Each bump of your shoulder only made it worse.

You turned away, but your hand landed on her thigh as you tried to lean further over the table, using it to steady yourself. It was like a shot went off in her heart. It was making it impossible to follow the conversation.

“None of you are fun,” you said, falling back in your seat, reaching for your drink, letting her leg go.

“Or maybe we all appreciate not living in close quarters with other young people,” Munch said.

“I guess I’m the only one who had any fun in college,” you said.

Your hand landed back on her thigh as you shifted, the butterflies going crazy in her stomach. She lent into it, letting herself feel every flap of their wings. With you, it was a pleasant feeling.

Leaning closer

Sitting together in the car, Olivia was doing her best not to keep glancing over at you. Your gaze was trained out the windshield, staring at the front door of the building the both of you were watching. She’d found herself doing that a lot, stealing glances at you when you weren’t likely to look back.

“Who do I have to screw to get a place like this?” you asked, “sorry, that’s not appropriate. Ignore me. I’m tired.”

“Someone with a lotta money,” she replied.

You turned to look at her, lips already pulling up into a smile. She could see how tired you were, dark circles beneath your eyes. It was the early hours of the morning, still dark enough for the street lamps to be lit. She liked you like this, a little loose, a little less filtered than usual.

She liked seeing the inside of your brain.

“Know where I can find one of them?” you asked.

“If I knew that I wouldn’t be out here. I’d be in there, sleeping easy,” she said.

“No you wouldn’t,” you laughed.

She laughed too, finding herself tipping towards you. You were already leaning towards her, head bent like your conversation was intimate. Her eyes dipped down to your lips then back up. Your fingers brushed over the back of her hand.

“You could never give up this job,” you said, voice quiet, “you’ll never stop fighting for the victims.”

She found herself falling into the well of your gravity. You were looking at her like she was something impressive, something wonderful, and she found herself drawing closer. She wanted to feel the heat of your skin, the heat of your gaze, the heat of your admiration.

“That guy look shifty to you?” you said, breaking her out of her thoughts, your gaze having strayed over her shoulder.

She turned away, only just realising how close she’d grown to you. She hadn’t even noticed how far she’d lent towards you. And yet she had known she wanted to be closer.

It was probably for the best that the suspect decided then to try and sneak out. She didn’t have to investigate her feelings if she was distracted by the job.

At least that’s what she told herself.

Blushing

“Yeah yeah,” Olivia called to whoever was trying to hammer her door down.

She’d just closed a case, returning to her apartment to try and catch up on all the sleep she’d lost from her nights awake hunting the sick bastard who did that stuff to those women. Halfway to sleep, the knocking on her door was unappreciated. She was going to kick the ass of whoever had interrupted.

She pulled open the door, coming up short when it was you on the other side.

“Hey, sorry, I know it’s late,” you said.

It was the early hours of the morning but she wasn’t going to get pedantic with you.

“I just… I didn’t want to be alone tonight and so I came here,” you said, “I can go.”

“No, no.” She held the door open wider for you, “come in.”

You slipped past her into her apartment and she could see the heavy slump in your shoulders. You dropped onto her couch, a long sigh passing over your lips.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. We got the guy so I should be fine but every time I close my eyes I just see…” You passed a hand over your face.

“It happens. Some cases stick with us more than others,” she said, sitting beside you.

You fell towards her, head coming to rest on her shoulder. Your cheek pressed to the bare skin of her shoulder, warm and soft and lovely. The weight of it was comfortable. Her irritation dissipated, enjoying the feel of you there with her.

“You’re so good at this,” you sighed.

“Good at this?” she asked.

“Catching the bad guys, not letting it fuck you up,” you replied, “making me feel okay.”

“You are okay,” she replied, finding her fingers running through your hair.

You sat up, turning to look at her. Drawing your legs up, you rested your chin on your bent knees, your gaze sliding along her bare skin. She let you look your fill, not sure what you were seeing.

“How are you still so gorgeous even when you’re woken up in the middle of the night?” you asked, almost a sigh, a small laugh at the end, “it’s just not fair.”

She laughed, even as her cheeks heated. Shaking her head, she let her hair fall forward, hiding her blush from you. Your fingers ran along her forearm, more of a brush than a touch. Peeking up at you, she found you leaning closer.

“I bet you get told all the time, but you really are beautiful,” you said.

She felt herself blush harder.

“Sorry for coming here and waking you up,” you whispered, “you were the only one that was going to make me feel normal again.”

“You know you’re always welcome,” she said.

“Especially if I keep complimenting you?” you asked, lips pulling up into a small smile.

“Those don’t hurt,” she replied.

“Then I think you should know, this nightgown is making it hard to focus on your face,” you said.

Your fingers brushed the silk of her nightgown, right over the warmth of her thigh. Her face was on fire and your eyes were sparkling.

“It’s very pretty,” you murmured.

“Flatterer,” she scoffed.

You pulled back, curling up enough to rest your head on the back of the couch as you gazed at her.

“You mind if I crash on your couch? I know there’s not exactly a plethora of hours left tonight but… my place is too quiet,” you said.

“Let me get you a blanket.”

When she lay down in her own bed, the light from her living room chasing away the dark, she listened to the sound of you settling, wondering if her proximity gave you any comfort. She hoped it did.

Finding excuses to touch you

Olivia’s fingers were soft as they reached out, gently moving your hair out of your face. It had fallen as you’d lent forward, eyes scanning over the file she’d placed on your desk. You glanced up, lips quirking up into a smile. She snatched her hands away, clutching the edge of your desk as she lent against it.

Her fingers itched from the feeling of your soft skin against her fingertips. She was still close enough to feel your warmth. You weren’t even looking at her and she felt the impulse to reach out again.

You looked up at her again, from under your eyelashes.

“Good catch,” you said, “but look at this pattern.”

Her hand rested on your back as she lent forward, looking at the file with you. You lent into her touch, your cheek coming to rest on her bicep. Her heart stuttered in her chest, but you didn’t seem to even notice.

It was like the long nights when her head would drop onto your shoulder. She wouldn’t even think about it, tired and eyes itching, head heavy, sinking into you. When her defences came down she sought out your warmth, wanting to feel you breathe beneath her.

“Gonna go bring him in?” you asked.

You were gazing up at her, lips curling up in a small smile that had her head swimming. Her fingertips brushed over your cheek, brushing your hair away again. You lent into her touch, just until she snatched her fingers away again.

Something warm bloomed in her chest along with embarrassment.

“Good job,” she said before she swept out of the precinct to pick up the perp.

Feeling hot around you

A wolf-whistle rang out across the precinct. It was late enough that the place wasn’t busy. Olivia’s head snapped up, eyes darting from Elliot to the where his gaze was focused. He was leaning back in his seat, grinning as he turned his head towards her.

You were waving away the whistle, a shy smile on your face. In the floor length dress, clinging in all the right places, you were a thing of beauty. She found her breath tumbling over parted lips. A rush of heat went through her, leaving her reeling.

“I take it you’re not going to chase down our suspect,” Munch said.

“Not unless he happens to show up at the restaurant I’m going to. Or the show,” you said with a small shake of your head.

“Hot date?” Elliot asked.

“You offering?” you shot back.

You paused by Olivia’s chair, hip cocked, hand coming to rest on the back of it. You were close enough she could smell the scent of your perfume clinging to your skin. Her skin was heating just from having you so close dressed like that. Looking like that. Leaning forward just enough to draw her eyes to the shadow of the curve of your breast.

Heat washed over her. She felt sweat gather at the skin on the small of her back, climbing up the back of her neck, spreading across her chest. You weren’t even looking at her, resting against her desk as you talked to the boys. But she was so aware of you there, right in touching distance.

“Right, well, try not to have too much fun without me,” you said.

Your chin dipped down, catching her gaze. The wink you shot her went right through her, warmth spreading in her lower stomach.

“Have fun,” you said, voice lowering just for her.

Elliot was giving her another very knowing look once you’d disappeared into the Manhattan evening.

“What?” she snapped.

“You’re looking a little flushed there. Feeling hot under the collar?” he said, that self satisfied grin on his stupid mug.

“Go chase up the ME report.”

His laughter haunted her, cooling the fire you’d left in her veins.

Craving your attention

“And why would they do that?”

Olivia was watching you from her desk, pen clenched between her teeth. You were sitting on Munch’s desk, feet continually kicking at his chair as you stirred your coffee.

“To keep the masses from realising they hold the power to control their destiny in their hands,” Munch replied, “wake up to the group mind think they force us to live in.”

“Sure but… why?” you asked.

The curl of your lips told her you were teasing him, just feeding into his conspiracy theory riddled mind. Still, she would have liked for you to be playing with her instead. She could be just as fun.

“Mass control of the population lets them test experimental drugs for biowarfare in third world countries,” he replied.

“Right. So why did they kill JFK?” you asked.

You didn’t even look at her.

“He was going to shake things up. Watch the way people responded to him. They loved him. He was going to end the mass control before they could pump chemicals into our drinking water,” he replied.

Why weren’t you looking at her?

“Now I’m being poisoned too? When will the madness end?” You scrunched up your nose at him.

Why weren’t you asking her?

“When we can all see the truth they work so hard to obscure,” he said.

She watched you make eye contact with Fin, a shared eye roll she wasn’t invited to partake in. Why wasn’t she invited? Why were you ignoring her? Had she done something to piss you off?

“Keep making that face but you’ll wish you had your freedom soon,” Munch said.

She wanted you to look at her.

“And when I do, you’ll be my first port of call,” you said, patting him on the shoulder.

She wanted you to touch her.

“Now, I’m going out for lunch. If you need me, no you don’t,” you said.

She wanted to get lunch with you.

You left her disappointed. Sweeping out of the precinct, she felt herself stewing in her want. She felt itchy, a desperation clawing up her throat, choking her with want. She wasn’t used to this feeling, a craving she couldn’t seem to sate. No amount of your attention was ever enough, even when she gorged herself on it.

She wanted to drown in it. To revel in it. To let herself split apart from how much of it she received.

Being denied was a feeling she wasn’t able to reconcile. An ache in her bones, a pang in her gut, a twist in her heart.

She was driving herself mad.

Flirting

Sliding into the chair across from you, Olivia glanced down at the paper you were reading.

“Defenestrate. Three down.”

You glanced up, the smile ready on your face. Her foot nudged yours under the table.

“Smarty pants,” you said, but it was so soft it made her heart squeeze.

A flash of blue had her reaching out, grasping your hand. With a soft brush of her fingertip, she smeared the ink stain on your skin.

“Having fun there?” you asked, a slight prod, teasing her as her finger continued to trace over your skin.

“I can think of something more fun to do with you,” she replied.

Your gaze swept over her as she looked up at you from under her eyelashes. Your eyes were sparkling, badly hidden amusement on your face.

“Did you need something from me, detective?” you asked, voice lowering.

She lent closer, her fingertips finding the pulse in your wrist. She could feel it thrumming, fast enough to let her know you weren’t as cool as you appeared. You pressed your wrist more firmly into her touch.

“Am I making you nervous?” she asked, almost a whisper, forcing you to lean closer to catch her words.

“Beautiful women always make me nervous,” you replied.

You were so much better at this than she was.

Her fingers returned to your hand, threatening to intertwine with yours. Her foot nudged at yours again, a gratified purring in her chest when you let yours rest against hers. You were leaning closer, that small smile on your lips ruining her.

“Must be difficult when you look in the mirror then,” she said.

You laughed, soft and beautiful and fond. Your hand moved forward, linking your fingers through hers. Her heart stuttered in her chest.

“How about you follow me home so you can find out?” you said.

You were definitely better at this than she was.

“Gonna protect me from all the big bad beautiful women?” you asked.

“How about some hands on exposure therapy?” she suggested.

“Careful, Liv, or I’ll think you’re serious,” you said.

You flipped your newspaper over to her as you drew your hand back. Standing, you shot her a wink before making your way down the stairs. She looked down at your half finished crossword.

Maybe she was beginning to be serious.

Getting jealous

The air of celebration was palpable. The sick pervert had been put away for a long time and the team had rolled into the usual bar. You were grinning from ear to ear, your laughter coming easy, shoulders loose and light.

And you were talking to Alex.

Olivia had been keeping half an eye on you through the night, the itch to monopolise your attention back. You were so beautiful when you were full of joy. She wanted to celebrate with you.

Instead, you’d ended up in a shadowy corner, Alex’s lips at your ear as she whispered something to you. Your smile was naughty, and when you laughed it was throaty.

Heat crept over Olivia’s skin and something in her stomach clenched. Her fingers tightened around the glass of her beer. You tipped your head closer to Alex, dragging your eyes up to meet hers as a smirk flirted with the corner of your lips.

Alex’s hand reached out, making contact with yours, sliding up, lingering longer than was appropriate. You shifted your weight, growing closer to her. When you took a sip from your own drink, she watched blue eyes focus on your mouth.

“That’s a sour look for someone who just took another perv off the street.”

It was a struggle to tear her eyes from you, focusing on Elliot again. The look he was giving her was so full of understanding it almost made her hit him. She didn’t like the clawing feeling in her chest. The whole thing was getting ridiculous.

“Mind your own damn business,” she said.

“Bet you wouldn’t be saying that to her,” he said, lifting his drink in your direction.

“You don’t know that,” she said.

You laughed again, stealing her attention and her gaze. Alex tucked your hair behind your ear, unaware of the daggers Olivia was glaring at her. You fluttered your eyelashes at her.

“Good thing looks can’t kill,” Elliot muttered, “although it looks like Alex might need witness projection again.”

“Keep talking like that and you’ll need it,” she snapped.

“Touchy,” he said, hiding his knowing smirk behind the neck of the bottle as he drank.

She drained the last of her beer then slammed the bottle down on the bar. Ignoring his continued prodding, she strode towards you. Your gaze was lazy as it dragged to her, your smirk deepening.

“I need to talk to you,” she said through gritted teeth.

“We’re in the middle of-“ Alex began to say before you cut her off.

“Sure.”

Olivia held Alex’s eye, a sense of triumph filling her. Your hand slipped into hers, tugging until she turned away, leading you somewhere more private. Somewhere you wouldn’t be interrupted. Somewhere she could be alone with you. The back corner of the bar. Away from prying eyes.

“What’s up?” you asked, leaning against the wall, looking up at her.

“You and Alex,” she said.

“What about me and Alex?” you asked.

She gave you a look, unimpressed, not playing games with you. She didn’t have the patience. Not as her heart began to tear itself apart just remembering the way the blonde had touched you.

“Am I not allowed to have other friends?” you asked, “or am I not allowed to flirt with other women?”

“So you were flirting?” she asked.

“I didn’t know I had a reason not to,” you said.

That shut her up pretty quickly.

“Liv.” Your voice softened, “what’s going on?”

She hated the pity, the softness, the uncertainty. It scrapped against the jagged edges of the sharp feeling in her chest. Shoving your shoulders against the wall, she looked down at you, really taking you in. She let herself feel it all, all the things she’d been pushing down for months, all the little things she’d begun to take notice within herself, all the things that led back to you. And all you did was look up at her with your pretty eyes and pretty lips, waiting, waiting so patiently.

So she kissed you.

Luckily for her, you kissed her back, hands sliding around her waist, pulling her closer. You didn’t try to stop her or question her. All she knew was that she’d been wondering what it would be like to kiss you for longer than she’d been able to admit to. And now she was.

You sighed into her mouth, such a nice sound it made her kiss you deeper. You were so soft against her, even as you kissed her with a mouth she hadn’t known you’d possessed. Dirty and hot, making her feel weak and desperate, even as you gave her what she wanted. She wanted more.

You made her greedy for things she couldn’t put into words.

She whimpered when you drew away, wanting more, ever more, from you. You were looking at her like she was something precious, like you were blowing her mind, like you understood her hunger.

“Liv,” you sighed.

“Can’t we just?” She lent forward to kiss you again.

You laughed, your hands on her shoulders keeping her back. The sharp sting of rejection bit at her skin until she saw the way you were gazing at her. Your fingers were soft as you tugged on the ends of her hair, fond and easy.

“I’m afraid I’m going to be annoying and ask you what’s going on again,” you said.

“I…” She didn’t have an easy answer.

“Is it maybe that you don’t want me flirting with anyone who isn’t you?” you prompted.

“No, you’re allowed to flirt with whoever you like,” she said.

“But you’d like it if it was you I wanted to flirt with,” you said, not asking, the confident tilt to your head both frustrating and endearing.

“You’re not making this easy on me,” she said.

“I really like you Liv, but I thought I wasn’t your… type,” you said.

“I’m beginning to think I don’t know what my type is,” she said.

Your fingertips brushed over the apple of her cheek, gentle in a way she wasn’t used to. With men, it wasn’t quite like this. It wasn’t so… soft.

It was hard to believe she’d been living without this for so long.

“All I know is that the way I feel about you can only mean one thing,” she said.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“Babs might have been right about some things.”

She muffled your laughter with her next kiss.

[doki-doki-imagines]

Not sure if you take requests but could you write about Shang Tsung (and others) with breeding kink?🙏

feat. Shang Tsung, Bi-Han, Liu Kang, Syzoth (aka the guy I think would be into it)

tw: smut, afab!reader

author note: requests are open! It's been a while since I wrote smut, I hope you'll like these.

Shang Tsung: -He is staining your soul, putting his seed of evil into you. -The thought gives him goosebumps, his right hand keeping your leg up and open wide, while to other play with your nipple and at the same time pushes your back against his front. -The hand that way playing with your chest slides lower, now drawing patterns on your tummy that in a few month will be round and full. -Shang Tsung bites his lower lip, and close tight his eyes, it's a sinful thought that is bringing him too fast to the end. -"Let me cum inside, you want it too right? You always tell me, don't you remember?" He whispers into your ear, voice weavering at each of his thrust in your core. -You seriously don't remember ever telling him that, but you nod, too fucked, too lost in the throes of pleasure to formulate a coherent thought. -"I knew it, you will be an excellent brood mare." He smirks, wide and wicked. -Shang Tsung almost hope he didn't impregnate you this time, the idea so good he wants to try again and again. -Not that he will stop anyway…

Bi-Han: -He is the Grandmaster, you know? He needs heirs! -But Bi-Han isn't doing this to follow orders, his eyes liquid lust while looking at your soft body, phrases way too broken and badly formulated to be of a man following his duty. -"I'll make you full of my cum, I'll fuck you so good-" The sudden grip of your core make Bi-Han stops in his track, lost in the pleasure of your pussy suiting his cock like a glove. -It's not like you are doing any better, legs up his shoulders, hands scratching his biceps the only stable thing to keep you anchored to this moment, mind wandering in the sea of bliss at each of his hard thrusts. -Bi-Han can't stop thinking of your chest, filled to the brim with milk, soft and round begging to be touched, nipples hard desperate for some attention, tummy full of yours and his child. -His mind plays a dirty trick and he cums with just one last thrust, falling on top of you, groaning into your neck, while he fills you with his cum. -"Keep it all in, don't make a single drop fall."

Liu Kang: -He waited his entire life to be in peace and in love. Now it's time to step up the game. -The idea of you carrying his baby, your entire body glowing of happiness make his brain vessels close really fast, blood flowing to his crotch pathetically fast. -That's why now you are on your hands and knees, taking him like a champ, his thrusts hard and fast, the fat of your ass red from the slaps you counted a minute ago, the sound you are both making obscenely lewd. -Liu Kang isn't a gentleman. He is a man with a goal that he needs to accomplish if he doesn't want to become crazy. -Something that you already are, tears running down your face, drool escaping your open mouth, moans escaping freely. -"Please, lemme cum-" You sob "I've been good." You gasp out. -Liu Kang whines after hearing your voice. You always sound so good, and he is too weak to you. -"Take it all, my darling, you can do it. I know it." He prompts you on, close to the end himself. -And you do, not even a sound escapes your mouth, too tired and desperate, total opposite of Liu Kang whom cum into you, an high pitched moan blessing your ears. -You lay down, knees and arms weak after the intense session, trying to stabilise your breath, while your lover stay behind you, pulling out and admiring his work. -Liu Kang notices some cum rolling down your core, so he scoop it up with his index and middle finger to plunge it inside you again, earning him a whine. -"Don't waste any of it, keep it inside. It's holy, you know?"

Syzoth: -He gets a bit insane thinking of you having his kids, honestly. -That's why for the longest time, Syzoth won't say anything and keep this thought for himself, ashamed you may get scared. -But then he finds out you share his kink and his wall drop. But he'll ask to repeat yourself because Syzoth thinks his intrusive thought pulled a bad joke on him. -Syzoth prefers to enjoy his kink when he isn't in "heat", when his mind is a bit more stable and he can control himself a bit more. You tell him he is fine either way, but please respect his decision one step at a time. -Doesn't mean Syzoth won't rock your world anyway; you should know how hot your shy boy is. -Syzoth would bite your neck, tell him if he is being too rough, he may not be in "heat," but the blood isn't pumping only in his brain right now. -Don't tap out! For lizards, it means you are being submissive, and it is like an okay sign to keep going, Syzoth didn't agree on a safe word with you just for fun. -"You are so fucking big-" You turn your head back as best as you can, face still pushed into the mattress, voice almost a little whine "Fill me up, please cum inside!" -Syzoth doesn't have to mind to reply, but he understands enough to act, filling you to the brim, the idea of your full tummy and soft glow the last push he needed.

[sharkie06]

Chat i think that we can all collectively agree that daryl would break down infront of you if he trusts you alot.. right? Right.

A cool fic idea would be the reader going on a run and failing to return on the day she left, but the rest of the group coming back the day of? And daryl gets real pissed, but when you return, he breaks down

Thank you! (Luv ur work) 🫶❤️🎀

A/N: AAAAAAAA HII, yes i definitely agree! i love that idea sm, and thank YOU 🫶🩵:) (also idk if responding to the ask tags you so i’ll tag just in case @livviewritess )

༄ Where is She?

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!Y/N

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings: mentions of violence, lots of gore, lots of cursing, Y/N has she/her pronouns, the lineup, mentions of deaths (Glenn & Abraham), gun use, motorcycle crash

Background info: It’s only been a short while since the line up with Negan, not long after Daryl finally was returned to Alexandria, and the community is still taking the loss pretty badly. He was still recovering from his time at Negan’s compound, so when it was time for the next supply run, Y/N offered to go on his bike and let Daryl stay home and rest.

A/N pt. 2: Most of the beginning of this will be written in Daryl’s POV; I apologize if he’s a bit ooc at times, I haven’t written for him much yet but hope to get better over time :)

Daryl had been restless all day waiting for the group to return from the run they had gone on that morning. It was the first run Y/N had gone on since he returned home from the compound, and being apart after being together every moment possible left them both deeply uneasy. If Daryl hadn’t been bedridden by Y/N’s own orders, he would’ve been pacing the damn gate waiting for a sign, anything to hint at her return. Sitting in their shared bed, Daryl finds his thoughts drifting off, remembering the night of the lineup vividly once again.

Daryl Dixon always thought he wasn’t scared of anything, that nothing could possibly rattle him now that the world had gone to hell. In fact, the only thing he ever worried about anymore was Y/N. So when Abraham’s body hit the ground, Y/N sitting stock still and shaking on her knees beside their friend, Daryl could only hear his blood rushing in his ears, his hands itching with the urge to go pull her into his arms. He wanted to take her away from the gruesome scene, take her back home where it was safe and let her find shelter in his embrace.

The whole group had watched in terror as Negan beat Glenn to death, the scene enough to make bile rise in Y/N’s throat, fighting hard not to puke and draw Negan’s attention to herself. The man could see her struggling and had started to mock her for it, bringing up his bloodied bat to her face, close enough that she could smell the parts of her friends that clung to the wood and wire. Daryl had instinctively reacted, sitting up and leaning back like he was about to try and stand but freezing when one of Negan’s men pressed the barrel of a gun to the back of his skull.

Negan had turned to Daryl then, the archer staring him down as the man had spoken to him. When Negan ended up taking Daryl, it was like a switch flipped in Y/N. She was suddenly kicking and screaming like her life depended on it, roaring with anger and thrashing wildly, trying to free herself of her restraints. Another of Negan’s saviors had simply come forward and knocked her unconscious with the butt of a gun to her temple, and when she awoke Negan, his men, and Daryl were nowhere to be found. Michonne had nearly had to drag her back to the RV, and Y/N hadn’t been allowed to go out and look for Daryl.

It had felt like a millennia had passed by the time Daryl had seen her again, nearly knocking his tired body to the ground just inside the gates of Alexandria as he returned home, Y/N almost just as much of a mess as he was, save for the black eye and other injuries sustained during his time at the compound. Now, Daryl couldn’t help but fear what could happen to her while he was stuck at home, unable to be there to protect her and watch her back. It’s not that he didn’t trust their people, but he felt he did a better job at it than anyone else.

Daryl’s torn from his thoughts as he hears the gates open, and suddenly he’s thinking damn with her orders, ‘m goin’ out there, standing up and limping his way down the stairs of their home, heading out onto the porch and gripping the railing as he heads down the front steps. His steps speed up and his anxiety grows as he doesn’t see her amongst the group that has returned from the run. Making his way through the group until he comes face-to-face with the now closed gate, Daryl can hear the now-familiar deafening sound of his heartbeat, thumping loudly in his ears, in his head as he turns and looks across the group once again.

He limps forward, grabbing Eugene by the collar of that damned jacket he always wore. That’s right; Eugene had gone out on the run with Y/N and the others, having wanted to start learning how to be more useful and Y/N had told the man she would help him learn to shoot on their run. Now, Daryl shakes him so hard by his collar that his own injured leg threatens to give out, Rick and Michonne running up to grab Daryl by the arms, being gentle but still trying to free Eugene from his grasp. “Where is she? I said where is she, asshole?!” Daryl’s visibly upset, tears pricking his eyes as he still reaches for Eugene, grunting and growling and trying to squirm out of Rick’s hold even as his friend is now partially supporting him, Daryl’s knee having buckled from the sudden weight he was putting on it.

Rick does his best to console Daryl, the archer eventually regaining his footing and shoving his friend, his found brother, off of him, stumbling back to Y/N’s and his house. Rick eventually comes into the house as well to see Daryl trying to load his crossbow and readying an overnight pack, grumbling softly to himself. “What are you doin’?” Rick asks his friend softly, sighing quietly when Daryl grunts and loads a bolt onto his crossbow. “What do ya think, genius? ‘m gonna go get my woman. Ain’t gonna let them leave ‘er out there like that. Ain’t no way in hell.” Daryl grumbles, standing up once again and trying to shove past his friend, who in turn steps back and in front of Daryl more directly.

The pair go back and forth for a while, Daryl getting increasingly frustrated and even starting to yell after a while. Eventually Michonne makes her way into the house and the three of them determine that Daryl will stay home and Michonne and Rick will go out and look for Y/N. They leave before the sun sets, with Daryl sitting and waiting on the front steps of his house, cleaning his crossbow while he keeps an eye on the gate and keeps an ear out for the sound of his bike or the sound of Rick and Michonne’s truck.

It’s nearly 6 in the morning the next day when Daryl’s woken up off his porch by the sound of the truck, then the gate opening. He rises quickly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he carefully stands up, limping over to the truck with his crossbow slung across his back. He doesn’t notice that instead of two people in the truck cab there’s three, not until he sees his motorcycle in the truck bed, looking pretty banged up with the arm of a walker stuck in the front wheel. He doesn’t even have it in him to question what the hell happened when he sees Michonne and Rick carefully but quickly help Y/N out of the truck cab, Daryl’s attention immediately caught by the blood dripping down her head and her side, covering almost her whole arm on that side.

She’s rushed to the infirmary, where she gets stitched up and wiped down mostly. Michonne helps Daryl bring her back to their house and she gives Y/N a bath while Daryl does his best to clean up their bedroom. It’s nearly noon when Y/N finally wakes up, in fresh clothing and laying on her uninjured side in her’s and Daryl’s bed. Daryl himself is perched in a chair right up alongside the bed, leaning forward in a way that’s definitely gonna hurt his back when he gets up after sitting that way for so long, one of his hands holding her’s with their fingers interlinked while his other hand has his fingers on her wrist, a constant reminder to himself of her pulse, of the fact that her heart is still beating.

Y/N blinks hazily a few times, coughing quietly as she tries to sit up before laying back down right away, her coughing waking Daryl up quickly, like he had barely been asleep. “Daryl?” Her voice sounds rough, like she had been yelling so much that she was starting to temporarily lose it, though Daryl could tell by the tear streaks that were breaking through the dirt on her face when she was brought in that she had simply been crying a lot. He’s there already but her voice is like an on-switch for him and he’s sitting up quickly, wincing slightly at the pain in his back before her rises to sit beside her on the bed, leaning down and gently cupping the back of her neck.

He tilts her head forward slightly and presses the gentlest of kisses against the bandaged gash along her temple, his thumb caressing the side of her neck softly as he lightly presses his forehead to hers. “‘m here, sugar. Right here. Ain’t never lettin’ ya outta my sight again, I swear.” He knows he’s probably laying it on a little thick, but he’d damn near had a heart attack when she was brought in all bloody and bruised. “The hell happened out there, doll?” Daryl questions her softly, gently releasing her head and sitting up to give her proper space to breathe while also not moving from his spot by her side.

Y/N lets out a pained chuckle, wincing slightly as she clutches her side where she had bruised a rib. “‘s pretty funny actually, I uh.. I told the group to go ahead without me; I was just down the road a few miles with the bike, and wanted to stop at the one convenience store down there. When we went out and passed through there yesterday, I saw this damn gun behind the counter that I really wanted, but told myself I’d pick it up on the way home. Told them to go ahead cause I figured I could also loot it real quick then head home, but when I broke into the back it was full of maybe… 8, 10 walkers? Anyway, I panicked a bit, and when I got back out on the bike I took off too fast. Hit a walker when I was going maybe 30 miles an hour, the damn thing exploded all over me and the bike. His arm got stuck in the wheel and broke the chain, and the damn bike sent me flying I don’t even know how far. Felt like I broke my leg, so I got up long enough to climb up onto the store roof and waited, figured they’d send someone out for me. Then I heard the truck last night and used my flare gun, Michonne and Rick found me—” Y/N pauses in her story as she sees the deep annoyance in Daryl’s expression.

“Yer tellin’ me, you damn near died because you wanted to loot a place by yerself?!” His voice lilts off into almost a yell at the end of his question, his face growing a bit flushed with his frustration. He almost starts going on a tangent about “How could you be so reckless—” until he sees how her eyes grow misty, her bottom lip wobbling slightly in that tell-tale sign that he had gotten a bit too rough with her in the state that she was in. Daryl pauses and takes a deep, shaky breath, reaching in to gently sit her up and pull her forward into him, tucking her face into the crook of his neck and cradling her softly, like he was scared she would break.

“Look, ‘m sorry, doll. Just… ya jus’ had me so worried, thought I lost ya—” Daryl starts, and though Y/N can’t see his face on the account of her own being shoved into his neck, she can hear how his breath hitches at the end, can feel the tense shaking in his torso as he lets out another shaky breath. Y/N leans back carefully, bringing her hands up to cup his cheeks softly. He’s crying, something she hadn’t seen since long before this all started, and just like she had done back then, Y/N leans in and kisses away his tears, his hands wrapping gently around her wrists where she cups his face but he doesn’t pull her away, just holding her there softly as she comforts him. His eyes close as she leans in and he leans into her when she pulls him in.

Soft sobs wrack his body as he cries against her, finding comfort in her warmth and she lets him hide in her shoulder and then her chest, her fingers trailing loosely through the hair at the back of his head and her heartbeat drumming quietly against his ear. Slowly, it begins to rain outside and she continues to just hold him, knowing that at times like this something as simple as being there and holding him is enough for Daryl.

[goodlucktai]

raised on little light (1/3)

rise of the tmnt word count: 2k pairing: leo & oc i've had this idea rattling around since the rise farewell comic earlier this year made it canon that the turtles had another brother and a sister floating around somewhere. we know who their sister is, so this is my take on that 5th brother. i hope you enjoy meeting him <3 big thank you to @soldrawss and @mykimouser for enabling my insane behavior (and thank you again to sol for drawing the art i included in this chapter!!!) title borrowed from northern attitude by noah kahan read on ao3

x

2020

Leo regretted his last words as soon as they left his mouth.

“Hero moves are totally your style”? As if Raph doesn’t have enough issues already.

But what he meant—what he would have tried to explain if there was time—was that Raph is his hero. He’s always been Leo’s hero. And if Leo could be anything like him, even for a second, even if it was the last thing he ever did, then he could be satisfied with that. 

It’s a silly thing to be stuck thinking about, laying on a torn up chunk of earth with a monster ominously lumbering somewhere below, looking for where it threw its toy. Laying there, feeling every bruise and broken bone, and hoping that he didn’t hurt his big brother’s feelings.

They’ll be okay, Leo thinks, trying to make it be the thing that gives him courage instead of just more homesickness. They’ll miss me, maybe for a long time, but they’ll be okay.

Leo’s supposed to be fighting for his life, but it’s all he can do to keep a grip on the photo in his hand, the only thing in this entire dimension worth holding onto. It’s all he can do to keep his eyes open when every blink is longer than the last. 

It feels like enough of a rebellion. The Krang looked annoyed that he was still breathing the last time it batted him through the void like a fly, which gives Leo the idea that he should probably be dead by now. He feels a detached sort of pride at how grown-up he’s being about all this. Better late than never

Leo waits for the Krang to come for him, dripping his blood and sneering his daddy’s nickname for him hatefully as it does, and hopes he made his family proud. 

Leo hopes he’ll go wherever Gram-gram is. It would be nice to know someone when he gets there. 

Movement in his periphery snags Leo’s attention. His brain starts throwing up warning flags, signaling danger—anything moving around in here is another parasite, or a Krang hound, nothing he’ll want to be sprawled out on a silver platter for—but he can’t summon any urgency. 

He turns his head and finds himself looking up at another turtle. 

It’s the very last thing he expected to see. They both just stare at each other for a moment. 

The newcomer appears to be a few years older than Leo, based on the broadness of their shoulders, and half a head taller. Their skin is more gray than green and their plastron is so pale it’s closer to white than yellow. Their carapace, what Leo can see of it, is a deep blue-black and they’re covered, skin and shell both, in white spots. Two of the spots on their face give the impression of eyebrows lowered in a glare, but they don’t seem angry at him.

The turtle is completely unfamiliar to Leo, which is saying something. He thought he and his family had the monopoly on… this whole situation. 

Disquieted, Leo remembers that he’s supposed to be the only turtle here. That was a very significant part of the decision he’d made. 

It must be a hallucination, he decides, instantly comforted by his own reasoning. That makes sense. He just wished that if his mind was going to conjure him some dying company it could at least be someone he knows. An imaginary Mikey or Donnie or Raphie for one last hug. One last affectionate forehead bonk. An “I still love you,” if that wasn’t asking too much. 

Don’t you cry now, he scolds himself sternly when his eyes start to blur and burn. It’s not about you. 

With a resounding crash of metal against stone, the Krang finds them at last. He’s snarling something that Leo is too slow to piece together before he cuts himself off—surprising the hell out of Leonardo by acknowledging the hallucination. That’s not how that works. 

“Another pest ,” the Krang hisses. His serrated teeth glint when he draws his gummy lips back in an ugly smile. His tone is oily and unpleasant when he adds, “You’re less colorful than those other ones. I would have remembered seeing you. Where were you when your accomplices were fumbling about in my Technodrome like the stupid creatures they are?”

“We won,” Leo reminds the alien, even though it makes him cough. His lips are warm and wet now but he won’t think about why. “Blew up your ugly ship. Who looks stupid now?” 

“Shut your mouth!” the Krang roars, going from slimy to homicidal in about three seconds. Leo cringes, every ounce of animal instinct in his body urging him to hide in his shell and ride the rest of this nightmare out. 

The spotted turtle snaps, “Don’t talk to him.” 

It would have made sense if he was looking at Leo when he said it. Don’t engage, don’t bait the big monster that could kill you with as much effort as it takes you to blink, et cetera ad nauseum. If only he’d had a nickel for every time he heard that. 

But instead the turtle is looking at the Krang, and he’s radiating the kind of cold-blooded murder that you mostly only see in movies. He has one arm flung out in front of Leo like he actually means to use it to stop the Krang from getting any closer. 

“Don’t even look at him,” he goes on, sounding seconds away from baring his teeth. 

This guy is significantly unaware of the danger he’s facing, and Leo ought to warn him about what enormous clusterfuck he’d just wandered into. Leo ought to say he appreciates the reptile solidarity, but you should definitely run, new guy. 

But this probably isn’t actually happening outside of his own head. And besides, Leo has to focus really hard on his numb fingers so he doesn’t drop his photo. 

“I’ll look where I please,” the Krang says, as unbothered by the hallucination as he was by Leo’s entire family. “Starting with that fool head of yours. I’m interested in whatever backdoor led you here. If it’s my way out, well —”

Adrenaline surges through Leo, and he’s hardly aware of moving before he’s lurching up and shouting out, “No!” 

He can’t get out, he can’t. Leonardo won’t be able to trick him again. He won’t be there to help this time. 

“I do have one thing for you,” the spotted turtle interrupts to say, reaching over his shoulder for what turns out to be a compound crossbow strapped to his back. 

Leo doesn’t know a lot about archery so it’s weird his fictional turtle does, crank-cocking the weapon like it’s an extension of his arm. He watches cluelessly as the turtle slides something very purple out of his jacket pocket and notches it into the groove where the bolts are supposed to go. It’s definitely not a bolt, but it’s a piercing-type projectile of some kind, and it fits in the crossbow like it was designed with crossbows in mind. 

The turtle aims the bow at the Krang, who clicks the claws of his metal suit on the ground the way Splinter would drum his fingers on the kitchen counter when he was waiting on the microwave. The Krang looks condescending and mildly curious, like he’s watching dumb little animals do something they’re not trained to do. 

“He told me to tell you he’s sorry he couldn’t be here to see this part,” the spotted turtle says, and then shoots without a second of hesitation or unnecessary dramatics. 

The Krang bats the projectile away, or tries to, but it explodes on contact with his armor, and suddenly all Leo can smell is burning metal. Then burning meat. 

The Krang begins to scream, clawing at something defiantly purple with a mind of its own that eats straight through him the effortless, immediate way corrosive acid chews through soft tissue. It moves like nanotech, covering as much of the Krang as possible in a manner of seconds and clearly designed to consume whatever it touches like a school of cartoon piranhas. 

Donnie would love it, color scheme and all. 

The Krang stumbles drunkenly, howling like a creature possessed, and Leo and his turtle companion both watch silently until he tips over the edge of the hunk of torn earth they’re on. Gravity is nonexistent in this dimension, so he doesn’t so much fall as sort of drift in another direction while he’s distracted with the purple stuff that’s doing its best to eat him alive. 

The last handful of minutes have been so bizarre that it’s actually going pretty far in convincing Leo that none of it happened for real. The Krang hasn’t actually found him yet. This is clearly a dream. Or a pre-death electrical storm as the neurons in his brain fire up to fizzle out.  

He tips his head to the side again to stare up at the archer, who is putting his bow away with perfect confidence that whatever that purple thing was, it will do the job. 

“Who are you?” Leo asks stupidly. 

“Gio,” the probably imaginary turtle replies.

Leo’s mouth runs off before he can stop it. “Just Gio? Like Cher?”

God, he thinks. That was stupid, Leo. Not the time or place, Leo. You’re in the prison dimension. You’re dying here and you can’t even cut the jokes now? Raph was so right about you.

But the imaginary turtle surprises him by smiling slightly, the corners of his mouth pulling just barely upwards in a way that somehow completely transforms him. Not the time or place for jokes or smiling at them but here they are. Like company.

“Giorgio Hamato,” ‘Gio’ says. That lands in Leo’s ears as something remarkably worth making a lot of noise over, but he can’t begin to unpack it. And after a second, he forgets what the remarkable part was. His mind is a deck of cards that got shuffled too enthusiastically and ended up scattered all over the floor. Gio doesn’t seem to mind when Leo just blinks at him, adding, “I’m here to take you home.”  

“Pretty sure Uber doesn’t come out this far,” Leo mumbles, the words a paint smear, all thick and wet and muddy. One of his teeth feels broken and it’s keeping him awake, a blistering ache that cracks through the back of his mouth like lightning. “And I’ve got, like, zero bars.”

This is how I cope, he thinks, watching the bigger turtle absorb the second bad joke in as many minutes. Leo’s blinking fast so he doesn’t cry. He’s trying to focus on anything but the pain radiating through his whole body, and the swallowing darkness all around him, and the ruins of ancient metal ships looming where they float unrestricted by gravity, and the ballistic howls of a pissed-off pink alien still dealing with whatever the heck this Gio guy did to him.

He can’t focus on any of that because all of that is scary and he’s already terrified. He needs to not be terrified because he doesn’t want to be that kind of ghost when he haunts his family. He wants to be the friendly, funny kind, the kind that gets to stay at the end of the movie, the kind that will make silly faces at Mikey so he doesn’t get scared, and leave sticky notes for Donnie to remember to charge his phone and drink enough water, and cover Raphie with an extra blanket while he’s asleep because it gets cold at night but he always leaves his bedroom door open for them.

If Leo’s friendly and funny, if he helps, he’ll get to stay. He didn’t get to stay the first time, so this time he has to make it stick.

Larger hands wrap around his. It doesn’t register for a second, and then it does in a big way.

Leo jerks his head up. Moving just that much hurts like his ribs are broken all the way down and the bones in his leg have all melted into liquid agony, but it clears some of the fog away.

Someone is holding his hands in the prison dimension.

An alien like the Krang wouldn’t know the first thing about the human gesture, the togetherness of it, so it’s not some mean trick that’s being played. And it can’t be an imaginary turtle that Leo dreamed up, after all, because kindness would be the last thing he’d give himself.

Possibly very real Gio says, “Fuck Uber. Whatever that is. And don’t repeat that word.”

The punchy breath Leo chokes in is going to punch out again as a laugh or a sob. Leo squeezes the bigger turtle’s hands, photo crinkling between them, suddenly tethered to something in this void and hysterically certain that he’ll die for real if Gio lets go.

“I’m sixteen.” Leo’s voice wobbles. He doesn’t know what to react to first. He doesn’t understand how this is happening. He holds on. “I can say the fuck word if I want to, I’m practically an adult.”

Gio’s face does something it hurts to look at. His eyes are dark and sincere, the shape of them entirely familiar. There’s a warmth inside him that permeates the gloom. A star belonging to a much larger galaxy, but more significantly, belonging to the same crooked constellation Leo belongs to.

I know you, he thinks, surprised by the truth of it. I do. Where have you been?

“We’re going home,” Gio says, the certainty in his voice like one of those huge stones a river parts around, unmoved by the currents and crashing water. “I know the way out. Don’t worry about it. Close your eyes.”   

The worst thing that could happen has already happened, Leo thinks. There’s no reason not to trust him. There’s nothing left to lose. He closes his eyes.

He feels himself drawn in, tucked against the built-in armor of a turtle chest, head resting on a broad shoulder. He’s been carried like this a million times before. He didn’t think it would happen again. Somewhere along the line, he’d been picked up for the last time and put down for the last time, and now he’s here, where no one who loves him can reach him, to scoop him up when he falls asleep on the sofa and take him to bed.

But Gio lifts him up like he’s still a kid. The Krang is bellowing hateful promises in between the grating shrieks of pain, promises of what he’ll do when he gets his hands on Leo, but all of that is far away. 

Leo isn’t afraid anymore. He isn’t going to be a ghost.

He’s pretty sure he’s going home.   

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 2]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1

words: 6.3k

tag list:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen

"Mommy, look!" 

Minnie calls out from the living room and you look up from finishing up an invoice. She is plopped on the ground, surrounded by a sea of crayons, proudly holding up her latest masterpiece: a series of different colored overlapping circles. You, as usual, have no idea what you are supposed to be looking at, but that doesn't stop the support you give your daughter.

"That's so good, Mouse. You picked such pretty colors." She beams at you and you return the smile, your heart feeling so full. You love her so much and you want only the best for her and you hope - pray - bringing her father into her life is the right choice. 

Your meeting with Matt went so much better than you ever thought it could go. He wants to be in Minnie's life and that makes you nervously excited. You have absolutely no inkling of how things are going to change moving forward, and a huge part of you is terrified but another part can't wait for Minnie and Matt to get to know each other. You keep going over your admittedly short conversation trying to remember all the little tics you saw that reminded you of Minnie. You want to know what else she inherited from him. 

You tell yourself those thoughts are for later and force them away so you can get back to work. It is getting close to bedtime and you have a few things to tidy up before you can clock out. 

Luckily, Minnie has gone back to her drawing, scribbling away while Scooby Doo plays silently on the television and you are able to work in peace. Ten minutes later, you close out your VPN and leisurely stretch out in your chair, watching your little angel do her thing. 

You are worried about her reactions to the change. Unfortunately, one of the things she got from you is your anxiety - your little one's nickname is Mouse for a reason. She is a quiet timid little thing who loves to watch and observe - like a little church mouse. You joke you need to put a bell on her because she can walk right by you without making a single noise. Her quiet nature doesn't mesh well with strangers. 

You've been taking her to daycare more, hoping socializing will help, and it has, but that is worth other kids. You don't know how she'll react to a new adult in her life who she would have a more casual relationship with. You have no family and the few friends you have have known her since she was a baby. 

Minnie knows what a dad is but she's never asked where hers is and you certainly haven’t brought it up to her.

But now you have to. 

You need to figure out what the best approach would be. You know it has to be slow and steady, but you don't know if you should introduce Matt to her as her father or not. The biggest change she's been through is going to daycare and that took ages. She hated it.

She hates being around strangers for extended periods. 

Out and about? She is okay. She's shy and likes to hide behind your leg instead of talking to people, but she doesn't complain.

But when she has to sit and interact with someone new? She can get fussy. It's not just her being shy, she gets physically uncomfortable. 

She has no problems if it's just the two of you or someone she knows, but strangers? It can turn into a tantrum, depending on her mood. 

You've discovered a few methods to make her more comfortable. You have about fifteen pairs of child sized noise canceling headphones, your bag is full of little things to distract her, and she has her Pig. 

You think introducing her to Matt where she can sit and color and block him out if she wants is the best course of action and to achieve that, you don't think you can tell her the truth right away. She might feel some pressure to Behave because Dad is an authority figure. Not to mention what she would feel if she started asking questions; like why he hasn’t been around.

She's curious but she's also three and unpredictable. 

She could immediately go into tantrum mode. 

She could not care at all and want to color instead. 

You hope Matt understands all of this and doesn't want to jump right into being a Father.

Whatever that entails. 

A change in colors and tones on the television catches your attention and you push yourself away from your desk.

"Okay, sweetie, Scooby is over, time to get ready for bed." 

Minnie finishes her scribble then drops the crayon on the ground. You wait as she climbs up onto her feet and starts to pick up her mess - her crayons go into a pail one at a time. You don't know what goes on in her mind, but as long as she's doing what she is supposed to be, you don't rush her. 

There's no lollygagging with your sweet girl, anyways. Once the crayons are in their bucket, she puts that under the coffee table, then picks up her drawing pad and brings it to you. You scoop her up and start towards the bedroom, as she admires her drawings. 

"What do you want to read tonight?" You ask. 

"Spot!" is the instant reply and you should have guessed that. You've been reading the same book for over a week now, but you don't mind. You'd rather read the same thing over and over than hunt for something she does want to read for an hour. 

Getting ready for bed is something that usually goes smoothly and you are lucky tonight is no different. Minnie is already in her pajamas, so it's just turning down the sheets and getting her all tucked in before you start to read. You keep an eye on the time as you do - you have a half hour before Matt said he would call. 

If he does call. 

He said he would and you are trying to be hopeful that he will. You've been disappointed so many times in the past - not just by lovers but everyone. People promise to call, to text, to follow up and they never do. They say you can do something together then cancel at the last minute. You are used to that disappointment, but you don't want Minnie to experience that. You want her to feel loved and wanted.

You know it's not fair to Matt, but to you the call is a sort of test he doesn't know he is taking. 

Will he call? Will he call on time? 

The more you think about the call, the more anxious you get. There's too many thoughts starting to gather. 

The meeting could have been a fluke and now that he's thought it over, he doesn't want to be a dad.

Or he wants to be a dad but not with You. What if you are the problem? 

"Mommy," Minnie shakes you out of your thoughts, looking up at you with big brown eyes. "Next page!" 

You nod and force your focus back to the book, turning the next page and letting your daughter open and close all the flaps that hide different elements to the story while you read. It's hard to get lost in the simple words and story, but Minnie is used to her routine and by the time you reach the last page, she's leaning heavier into your side.

You place the book on her nightstand, trading it for her sleep headband. She tilts her head forward and you help get the band on and snuggly over her ears. 

"How's that feel, Mouse?"

"Quiet," Minnie replies, like she does every night, sliding down under her blankets. Her little hands tug at the band so the sleep mask part is over her eyes. You smile, forever grateful your little one likes to sleep. You wait while she settles, then kiss both of her cheeks. 

"Sweet dreams, my little angel." 

"Sweet dreams, Mommy," she replies, voice full of sleep. You triple check she's tucked in nice and snug and that Pig is within reach, then turn off the light. You leave the door open a crack, just in case, then return to the living room. 

There's a small mess leftover from dinner and you start cleaning that up. Usually, after you put Minnie down for bed, you'd enjoy a few hours of television or catching up on whatever you needed to, but after finishing the dishes, you don't know what to do. 

There's only a handful of minutes until the promised call time and all you can do is just stand in the kitchen. You debate going to get a notebook so you can keep notes, but you don't want to have the whole conversation about how you want to move forward over the phone. Maybe you jot down ideas of what you two want to cover in person? Matt might have questions you haven't even thought of yet. 

You should find a pen and paper. It's better to be prepared than not. You tell yourself that but you still don't move. You just stare at your phone.

As the seconds creep by your throat starts to get tight.

What are you going to do if he doesn't call? 

Would it be awkward to call him instead? Or is that overbearing? You don't want to come off as overbearing - that might make Matt view you in a negative light and that would definitely have consequences in his relationship with Minnie. You desperately want that relationship to be good and not be influenced by any issues the two of you might have. You would hate yourself if the reason Matt didn't want to be around Minnie was you. 

The thought makes your stomach twist. 

You're definitely not going to call him tonight if he doesn't call you. You can send a text in the morning - something with no pressure.

But he said he preferred calls instead of text. 

Would a call be accusatory? You feel like a morning call would be accusatory. 

You can push it to the afternoon, that would give him time to call in the morning, as well.

You're ripped from your paranoid thoughts as your phone screen lights up with Matt's name. Shock overtakes your system and it takes a moment before you scramble to answer.

You state your name as your greeting, totally trying to pretend you weren't just spiraling.

"Hey, it's Matt.. Matt Murdock." 

His words are soft spoken, on the edge of shy, and it throws you. You understand why his nerves would be rattled but you didn't think he'd advertise that. Your brain screams at you to comfort him and you focus on that instead of your own panic.

"Hey…um, how are you doing?" 

Matt chuckles into your ear, low and throaty, making the knot your stomach has become loosen a bit, "Adjusting." He pauses a beat, then adds, "I can't stop thinking about you and Winifred…Minnie."

Your cheeks burn.

You can't tell him you haven't stopped thinking about him either - that feels like a very weird thing to admit, even if it is the truth. 

You don't know what to say, so your mouth decides for you, blurting out, "I didn't think you'd call…"

"You didn't…?" The undercurrent of hurt in his voice makes you feel like you've kicked a puppy. You quickly backtrack.

"I have a tendency to overthink and get in my head," you say, hoping you aren't coming off like an idiot. "I worked myself up." 

You turn your back to the kitchen counter, then slide down the cabinets until you are sitting on the ground. You bring your knees up, using them to prop up your elbows. 

"I'm glad you did call," you admit, asking your mind to please stop, "I'm sorry, this is awkward, can we start over?"

"Of course," Matt's voice is soft in your ear, but you can hear him smiling, "Should I hang up and call back?"

"No, no, not that far back," you practically mumble, biting your lip. "How about…was your meeting okay? Can I ask that or is it attorney - client privilege?"

Matt hums, sounding like he's thinking over the answer, before answering, "No, that's not covered. It was pretty standard for that client - whether that means it went okay is up for interpretation. No one is in jail, so I would consider it a win." 

You aren't sure what that means, but you want to be supportive. "That sounds like a win." 

"What about you, how was your evening?"

The question makes you laugh a little, only because you think you live a very boring life, "Very quiet and calm. No one ended up in jail on this end either."

"So not a family of trouble makers?" Matt asks, a slight tease in his voice. 

You smile into your knees, replying with a shy, "No, I'm afraid we're rather boring. I hope that is okay."

"I think it's a win."

Oh, you forgot how charming he was. 

He carries on, voice dropping back to a softer tone, "What does a quiet and calm night mean for the two of you?"

You consider the question with a little smile before answering, "We usually start with a nice walk to the park. Minnie likes to play in the afternoon, there's less kids to hog the see-saw."

"She likes the see-saw?" 

"She loves the see-saw," you say, smiling at the memory of your daughter on the playground. "She likes to…bounce? The see-saw lets her go high. She's too small for bounce houses, so she gets her fix where she can." Matt huffs a laugh into your ear and you continue on, "After the park, it's standard toddler afternoon stuff. Dinner and a bath. Playtime and television before bed. I work from home, so I usually get a few hours in before Minnie gets put down for bed. Then, um, more work for me. Or paying bills. Online shopping. Adult things I can do from the couch." 

"You work from home?" Matt asks and you can't remember if you had previously mentioned that. Your whole previous conversation is now suddenly a total question mark. 

"Yeah, um, I work in billing. The company is in international shipping, so time zones aren't really an issue. As long as I log forty hours a week, I can break it up as I want. It makes being a working mom a lot easier." You nibble your lip, unsure about what to really say, so you say the obvious, "You have your own law firm?" 

"I do. You met my partners earlier, Foggy and Karen," he sounds proud, just a little bit, and that warms your heart. 

"I read about a few of your cases last night," you admit, "The papers said you help a lot of people."

Matt doesn't respond right away, but when he does, you find yourself smiling more. "We try to. People here are getting by paycheck to paycheck, they can't afford a lawyer when their landlords try to push them out so they can get someone in to pay higher rent. They need someone to fight for them, and this is our community - Foggy and I grew up here. This is our city." He pauses and you can picture him scrunching up his brow, "You said you saw the interview last night. You had time to read over our cases?"

Embarrassment courses through you. 

"Only what was in the news and I didn't read in depth. I just…" You shrug, even though you are talking over the phone, "I wanted to make sure it was in Minnie's best interest to reach out." You bite your lip again then, wanting to be honest with Matt, you add, "I mean, we only spent one night together and we didn't really discuss…much. I knew you were a lawyer, but you could have been like…a lawyer for some awful celebrity or something. If you were out there and the papers were saying you were vile I wouldn't have just…shown up at your doorstep. Metaphorically. I only have your work address." 

"That makes sense," Matt replies and you have the feeling he really does get it, "you want to keep her safe, to keep both of you safe. I'd do the same in your position. Actually…I guess I do need to do the same, because we don't really know anything about each other." He pauses, then teases, "Unless there's news articles about you I need to catch up on?"

You huff at the thought, "No, nothing that I am aware of." 

"Then we will have to do it the old fashion way."

"Lunch." The words tumble out of your mouth and you resist the urge to bang your head against the cabinets. "We, uh, mentioned lunch. We could use that as a starting point? Give each other our People Resumes."

Matt laughs a little and it's warm, not mocking. You still bury your face into your knees. 

"People Resumes - I like that. I have some pretty good references, if you need."

"I only have the one," you mumble, keeping your face hidden despite being alone. He laughs again.

"I think it's a pretty good one, though."

That makes you smile, "The best one around."

There's a beat where neither of you talk and you wonder what else to add.

"Will she be coming to lunch?" He asks, voice switching from confident and charming to slightly timid. Once again you are reminded of a kicked puppy and it makes your heart ache.

"I would like that," you start slowly and Matt seems to sense you have more to say, as he waits for you to continue. "I wanted to discuss it with you, first."

"Of course," his reply is so eager. "Anything."

"I was thinking…I think it would be best if Minnie gets to know you first before we tell her who you are. It's been the two of us for so long, I don't know how she'll react to a big change. I can introduce the idea to her over time, start talking to her about family and stuff while you two bond?" As you talk, the words start coming out a little faster as your nerves start to come back. "I think telling her up front might make her uncomfortable because like, you'll have a Title and Authority and that would override other things. I don't want to push her into anything she's not ready for yet." 

You press your face into your knees and wait for Matt's reaction. You can hear him breathing and the slight clinking of what sounds like ice in a glass and you hope he understands your concerns. 

He says your name so very softly and a shiver goes through you. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip and wait for the ax to fall.

 "I think that would be a really good way to do things," Matt practically breathes into the receiver. 

You squeeze your eyes shut tightly and relief just washes over you. "I…don't want to scare her." He hesitates, then starts in a stronger voice, "did your articles mention that I grew up in an orphanage?" They did and you say as much. "I was older than a lot of the kids and the little ones were scared of that. Scared of being adopted by strangers. I remember being scared of that. I got placed in a few foster homes and I hated being around people I didn't know." He takes a breath and it's a little shaky, "I want her to want me as her father." 

Your heart skips in your chest and you bury your face into your knees more. "I don't think you have anything to worry about, Matt. You have a good heart, that's what matters. You just have to get to know each other, spend time together."

Matt hums softly into your ear, "Not just her, you as well."

"Me?" You ask, confused. 

"You," he repeats. "I want to know the mother of my child. Of course I want to get to know you. You're the most important person in her life."

You just hadn't thought of that at all - your concern has been over Minnie. It completely makes sense that he would want to get to know you. He isn't just now in Minnie's life, but in your life.

You chew on your lips in thought, "Is…um.. Is there anything you'd like to know?" 

"How about," he says, after a moment of thought, "the equivalent of what you read about me? That way we are on an even footing."

That wasn't the answer you expected but it makes a bit of sense in your head. You think about what you learned in the papers about Matt Murdock.

You start off by saying where you were born then move onto simple facts, "We moved to Long Island when I was about five and I lived there until I was eighteen. I moved into the city for school - Empire State University. I didn't know what I wanted to do so I got a degree in business. I figured I'd have a good foundation with that, you know? I got a pretty decent job in accounting - I'm still there actually. I uh…am a billing administrator…"

"Your parents?" Matt asks tentatively, like he already knows the answer.

"Gone." You say quietly, but firmly. Your parents aren't something you want to talk about and you hope he understands that. "It is just Minnie and I. And now you..."

"And now me…"

You can hear the smile in his voice and it makes you start to smile. 

"I have no idea how to be a father," he admits after a beat.

"It's okay, I didn't know how to be a mother. I'm still learning - I've read stuff and some things don't apply to Minnie. Or the opposite, she does something and I can't find anything that applies? And it's not like I'm just gonna drop her on you and disappear. It's…I want you to be comfortable as well? That's why I think just meeting each other will be a good start. We can go from there? Do little hang outs and stuff and build up, if that's what you want," you know you're starting to ramble but you keep going. "I think somewhere she is comfortable would be good? There's a diner in Hell's Kitchen she really likes - we could meet there for lunch? If she gets too overwhelmed, I can give her something to distract her, but you can still interact with her? She's a bit shy around new people and pressuring her to really…um.. engage might be a lot? A big thing for her is parallel play, so I'm hoping maybe just hanging out around you if she's nervous might help until she's more comfortable?"

You close your eyes tightly, a little embarrassed at your dumping of ideas, but Matt takes it all in stride, giving a curious, "What is parallel play?"

You lick your lips before answering, "Being in the same space, but doing your own thing? Like two kids coloring together but not talking."

"Ah, I got it. I didn't know there was an actual name for that." There's another pause and you can hear ice clinking against glass again. You wonder if you should get up off your kitchen floor and get yourself a drink, but you decide against it. The only thing you should be drinking is water. "What is the diner?"

You tell him the name of the diner and to your surprise, he chuckles, "I know the place. It's on the same block as Foggy's parents' butcher shop. She has good taste."

"When she gets fussy and doesn't want to eat anything, it's something I know she'll always eat. She'll have her own booth by the time she's five."

Matt laughs again and you can feel all the anxiety you had before the call bleeding away. He's been open to everything you've had to say so far and there's been no hint of negative feelings. 

Maybe things will be okay.

"She can share Foggy's booth," Matt says, no idea your mind keeps trying to freak out over nothing. "We went there for lunch almost every day when we were working out of the shop."

"You worked out of a butcher's shop?" You ask,  thinking you must be misinterpreting something. 

"We did," he says, sounding a little sheepish, "I took a hiatus from…everything really and Foggy went to work for another firm. While we were reestablishing, his parents graciously allowed us to work out of their shop."

Part of you wants to ask about his hiatus, but the way he says it gives you a feeling you should leave it alone, so you do. You focus on another aspect instead. "So we've been going to the same diner, we just kept missing each other."

It is sobering to say - the father of your child was always right there, but fate let you skirt around each other for years. It hurts to think about, your mind whispering at you if you had just tried harder to look for him, you would have found Matt. If you had just seen him earlier, how different would things be? What if you had been there at the same time, but you just hadn't been paying attention to your surroundings? It isn't like he knew to be on the lookout for a fling from years ago - how would he have even noticed you? 

You wonder if he is thinking the same thing - that you probably missed each other because you weren't paying attention.

"Don't do that," your attention is yanked away from your guilt by Matt's strong voice, "I can hear you thinking, blaming yourself."

"Is it that obvious?" You ask quietly, cringing just a little bit. Are you really such a mess he can tell over the phone?

"You said you overthink and work yourself up. You got quiet, so I assumed and I guess I was right. There's no way you could have known and why would you have been looking there?" He sounds so sure you feel guilty over feeling guilty. 

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. There's nothing to apologize for."

You bite your lip then force your head up and away from your knees. You should get up and get a drink - change how your body is. Maybe it will help in keeping your mood from dipping back down. You take a breath and start to get up.

"Thank you…um.. What day would you want to meet?" You ask, trying to push past the awkwardness and into another direction. You hear him take a drink and decide you do want some water. You start to look around your living space, trying to locate your water bottle.

You spy it across the room in all its rainbow sticker glory and make your way across the room as Matt starts to speak, "I wish I could say tomorrow, but we have to meet with the D.A. tomorrow and I can't miss it. I hate that I can't miss it. But Saturday? Can we meet Saturday?"

You'd have a day to prepare. You would definitely need a day to prepare. "Saturday is perfect. Is 11:30 okay? That's when we try to have lunch."

"That is perfect," Matt replies, mirroring your own. "Saturday at 11:30." 

A giddy little shock goes through you - it's not just an idea anymore. Minnie will be meeting her father and he wants to be in her life. He's eager to be in her life. 

You never thought that would be the case. 

"Saturday at 11:30," you repeat, just to confirm and because you can. It feels good to say. 

"I feel like I should dress to impress," he says with a chuckle and you wonder if he is feeling giddy as well. 

"I don't think she will care, unless you have a shirt with a cartoon character she likes on it." 

There's a few seconds of silence, then Matt's soft curious voice is back, "What characters does she like?"

The question makes you laugh a little because your little girl changes her preferences at the flip of a hat, like any other kid.

"Right now? Scooby Doo and Oscar the Grouch."

"I don't think I have anything with those characters," he says with an amused huff, "but I'll see what I have."

You bite your lip, then let yourself be a bit teasing, "Do you have a lot of graphic tees?"

There's a long moment of quiet before Matt laughs. It's a deep rumble and you find yourself grinning as you grab your water bottle.

"I actually don't know. I don't wear a lot of t-shirts. I think a few have designs on them - at least a few Columbia ones. I wouldn't put it past Foggy to give me something with a cartoon on it, though," he muses. 

"I'm sure she will not judge you on your fashion choices," you point out, "She's three and doesn't understand what fashion is. If she did, I would be in trouble."

"Do you have a lot of graphic tees?" Matt asks, throwing the question back at you. It is your turn to laugh.

"I'm the proud owner of many graphic tees. It's practically the only thing in my wardrobe, top wise. The benefits of working from home."

"Unfortunately, court has a dress code. Or so I'm told. I don't think I've ever read it."

"Jury duty has a dress code," you point out, "It was mostly show up clean and not in athletic wear. I didn't get a good look at the lawyers, but I'm pretty sure I remember suits."

"Would you trust a lawyer in a graphic tee?" He asks and you have to pause to think it over.

"Going into their office? I don't think so, unless it was like casual Fridays. But if I met a lawyer in the street on their off day and they had on a graphic tee? I suppose so. Depending on what they are telling me."

"Do you often get your legal advice from random lawyers on the street?" You can practically hear his eyebrows raising up and your cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling.

"Of course not. I get it from Google. I can't afford a lawyer."

That earns you another bark of laughter. "I don't think that will be an issue any longer."

That sets off a little anxiety in your stomach. You don't want to think about needing a lawyer, whether it be Matt as your lawyer or a lawyer against Matt.

He doesn't seem to notice your dip in mood, not that it is particularly obvious, and moves to the next topic. 

"Speaking of, I haven't gotten the chance to look at the packet you gave me. It's there anything I need to get done before Saturday?"

You turn your mind away from the thoughts of lawyers and legal battles to something much more manageable: medical history.

"No, no, there's nothing that urgent. It's mostly just medical information - she's got some sensitivities and I want to make sure I'm prepared for anything in the future. The rest is just information for you."

Matt doesn't respond right away and you chance taking a swig of your water. 

"Sensitivities…?" There is a thick undercurrent of concern in his voice and you feel a little guilty for making him worry. 

"Fabrics and dyes and scents, that kind of thing? I haven't gotten her tested, but certain things just make her itch. Some foods, too. I try to stick to organic stuff and it seems to help a little. It isn't anything major, just a few changes when she lets me know there's something bothering her." You set your water bottle down as you talk, starting to walk around your small living room. "I read it's becoming more common in kids, because all the chemicals and stuff used in everything now. Some of the other moms at daycare have given me tips - laundry soap was the best one." 

You are reminded you actually need to do some laundry and as you walk, you grab the various throw blankets littering your apartment. 

"I see," Matt says slowly, still sounding concerned. "I actually prefer organic myself, I have some sensitivities as well."

"Any allergies?" You ask. You didn't have any yourself so it has always left you guessing what your little girl might react to.

"No, nothing that I know of. I'm not completely sure about family history, but it is something I can look into."

"I would appreciate it. I'd rather be overly cautious than not have anything," you say casually like you aren't completely obsessive about keeping your daughter healthy. 

As you make your way to the bathroom to grab dirty towels, phone between your shoulder and ear, he hums into your ear. "I think that is a good way to do things. I'll try to get the information back to you as soon as possible."

You don't want to chide him, but you can't help but frown a little, "Matt, you don't need to rush. I…was worried you wouldn't be…interested. That is why I put the packet together. I thought you'd want to deal with that instead of going to a doctor's office?"

"I'll go with you to the doctor's," he says instantly, "And I'll fill out the paperwork. It's something I want to do." 

You can't argue with that because you would be the same way. Still, you push, "I don't need it by Saturday. Please take your time?"

"Ok," he concedes but it feels like he is only doing so to appease you. But you will take it. 

You dump your laundry into the basket stored in the hallway with a little grunt. Almost immediately Matt is saying your name and asking if you are okay.

"Yup, yup, just trying to get some cleaning done while I can. Sorry for doing that in your ear."

"Do you need to go?" 

Your heart pangs with guilt at the question. You can feel the disappointment through the phone and you're quickly reassuring him, "No, I'm just picking up a few things, tidying up, you know. I will try to not -"

You are cut off as the door to the bedroom pushes open and Minnie shuffles out. Her headband is pulled down around her neck and she's rubbing at her eyes with one hand, the other limply holding Pig. You only just put her down so you are instantly concerned.

"Mouse? Is everything okay?" 

Matt says your name again, "what's going on?" 

You ignore him in favor of going to your daughter. She holds up her arms and you scoop her up, cradling her to your chest. 

"There's a monster outside," Minnie mumbles, burying her face in your neck. 

"There's a monster outside?" You confirm with her, still speaking into your phone.

"A monster?" Matt repeats, clearly confused, as your little one nods against you. 

"Okay, let's go check," you tell her, before finally answering the questions coming through the speaker, "Something woke Minnie up. I'm sorry, I do think I need to go now." 

"Is everything okay?" Matt sounds worried and something stirs in your chest at his concern. 

"It will be, we just need to go tell a monster to go home," you say, gently bouncing Minnie in your arms to soothe her, "Isn't that right, baby? We gotta tell him to go home."

She nods against you again, parroting in a sleepy little voice, "Go home."

You hear some rustling on the other end of the phone, the clicking of a door opening and the rush of wind. Matt must have stepped outside.

"Are you sure?"

His distress is sweet, in a way. You remember being terrified of every little upset when Minnie was a baby, but now you have gotten your groove.

"Yeah, we will be okay. It's just gonna take a bit to get her back to sleep," you say, carrying her into the bedroom. "I'll…um..we'll see you on Saturday? At 11:30?"

"Saturday at 11:30," Matt confirms. "I…" he trails off, then clears his throat. "Have a good rest of your night."

"Good night, Matt."

Minnie mimics you again, mumbling, "Good night, Matt" just as you hang up. You wonder if he heard it, or if it was cut off. 

You hope he did. 

You drop your phone off on the bedside table and bring Minnie over to the window. You are a few stories up and your bedroom overlooks an alleyway, as most do in the city. You hold your toddler with one arm and carefully unlock the window to open it about halfway. On the windowsill, there is a yellow mini spray bottle, covered in stickers like everything you own - you pick it up and offer it to Minnie.

She takes it, turning her little body to face the window. She aims it at the window screen and squeezes the trigger, sending out a little stream of Monster Repellent. 

"Go home, Monster," you say together. She gives another squirt before looking up at you.

"Is it gone?"

"Give him a few minutes and he'll be gone," you promise, taking the spray bottle and putting it back in its spot, "He's gotta pack up his Monster Suitcase before he goes home, but he won't bother you." 

She flops her head back down on your shoulder as you turn to bring her back to bed. 

"Do you want me to stay until you're asleep?" She makes an affirmative little noise 

You start the process of tucking her back into bed with Pig, kissing her forehead before helping to pull up her noise canceling headband. 

"Good night, Mouse."

"Good night. I love you, Mommy."

"I love you, too, baby. Sweet dreams."

[mishaapocalypsse]

|| i'm sorry you were forgotten// things left behind ||

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Description: You weren't anyone's favorite in Spider Society. You weren't even sure anyone knew who you were. Everyone overlooked your universe; everyone except Peter B. Parker...or so you thought.

Warning's: Language, Mentions of Mental Illness, Su*c*de.

You have been warned.

Everything under the cut.

In the cold and desolate Spider Society, you were nothing more than a nameless anomaly, an insignificant cog in the grand machine. Everyone overlooked you, but there was one who didn't. Peter B. Parker, the grizzled veteran of the Spider-Verse, the wise and wizened father figure, the one man who you could always count on for a kind word and a friendly ear. But even he didn't know who you really were, he didn't see the pain and the suffering that you hide behind a mask of confidence and strength. He only saw what you wanted him to see.

No one knew.

Miguel, on the other hand, is a towering figure, a wall of muscle and sinew wrapped around a heart of steel. He's not the type of man to offer comfort or sympathy, he's more likely to shoot first and ask questions later. And yet, there's something about him that draws you in, a raw magnetism that you can't resist. You tell yourself that it's just curiosity, but the truth is, you want him. You want him to see you, to know you, to understand you.

But he never will, because you make sure of it. You hide your true feelings, you mask your doubts and fears behind a veneer of self-assurance and confidence. You tell yourself it's for the best, because there's no way you can be with him. The man is a force of nature, a hurricane of passion and emotion, and you're just a blip, a speck on the radar.

What could he possibly want with you?

Yet you can't help but want him, you can't help but imagine what it would be like to feel those strong arms around you, to hear his whispered words in your ear, to feel his touch against your skin. And so you wait and you wait, hoping against hope that one day he will see you for who you really are, for all that you can be.

But that will never happen. You were only…nothing. Not even the friends you made along the way at the Spider Society remembered you…you sat by yourself at the end of the hallway alone, tucked in a corner, your lunch resting on your lap.

You sigh and lean your head back against the wall, closing your eyes. You're so tired of this, you just want it to end. You want them to see you, to know you, to understand you. You've tried so hard to fit in, to be a part of the group, but it's never enough. There's nothing you can do, no matter how hard you try. They just don't see you. You're alone.

You open your eyes, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the world crushing down upon you.

The sound of footsteps draws you from your thoughts, and you turn your head to see Peter B. Parker walking toward you. He gives you a warm smile, and your heart leaps in your chest.

"Hey kiddo," Peter says, taking a seat beside you. "How you doing?"

"I'm fine," you lie, forcing a smile onto your face. "Just enjoying my lunch."

"You sure?" Peter asks, studying you closely. "Because to me, it looks like you're feeling pretty down."

"It's nothing…" you answered , eyes flicking to the lunch not eaten in your lap.

"Oh, come on now," Peter chided. "I know exactly what you're feeling. I know that look. It's the look of someone who's been alone for a long time."

"I'm fine," you repeated, glancing away.

Peter sighed and put a hand on your shoulder. "You don't have to pretend with me, you know. And you're not alone."

You stiffen, not wanting to break down in front of him, not wanting to let him see how truly broken and alone you really were.

"Please," Peter said softly, "Just let it out. I won't judge you."

You stood up, a mixture of hate and sadness spreading across your face. You threw your tray into the garbage and walked in any direction but Peter's way.

You make it a few feet before Peter catches up to you, and catches your arm.

"Hey, hey, calm down," he says, holding you with firm but gentle hands. "Talk to me."

You shake your head, but Peter persists. He grips your arms tighter, forcing you to look at him.

"Tell me what's wrong," he says, his voice pleading. "I can't help you if you don't let me in."

You start to cry, and then the words come rushing out, in an unstoppable torrent of emotion and pain. You tell him everything, all the things that you've kept hidden for so long. You tell him about how lonely you are, how no one understands you, how no one ever sees you, how you just can't stand all the pain and the suffering.

You stop when you're out of air, gasping and sobbing, staring into Peter's eyes. He's still holding your arms, still looking at you, still listening.

"It's okay," he says, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I'm here. Let it out."

The two of you stand there for what feels like an eternity, and finally you pull away. You give him a final hug, and turn to leave.

"Thank you," you say, tears still rolling down your cheeks. "You're the first person I've spoken to in months."

Peter watches as you walk away, a look of sadness on his face. "You're welcome," he calls after you. "And I'll be here, if ever you need me."

A couple weeks go by since that incident, and with everything that went on then…its like everyone is split from each other. Your friends ended up not being you're friends, even worse, when you tried to talk to Miguel, he barely even knew who you were, and he had given you a mission not even two days prior…

You were devastated, confused and hurt. You thought that everything was going so well, that things were on the upswing for you. You thought that you were finally a part of the group.

But then Miguel, the man that you'd admired and respected for so long, the man that you'd fallen for, brushed you aside like you were nothing. He didn't even recognize you. It was like all of your efforts, all of your struggles, had been for nothing.

"I can't believe it. After all I've done, he still doesn't notice me. What am I doing wrong?"

You slump down in your chair, your heart feeling like it's been shattered into a thousand pieces.

All of your hard work, and for what?

You've put in so much effort, and this is how it ends?

You feel like you've been cheated.

How can this be fair?

You feel like giving up, just throwing in the towel right then and there, and saying "to hell with everything."

Your room was cold, yet, you weren't cold. Standing up, you left to go to the place where no one would bother you.

You're bathroom.

You climb up the ladder, up the narrow shaft, and finally, you reach the top. The night sky is spread out before you, with the glittering stars shining above. The wind is blowing, and the cool night air is like a balm to your aching heart. You just want to curl up here and never go back. Peter B. Parker blew through the doors of Miguel's lab, his angry footsteps approaching the large platform. "Miguel!" He hollered trying to get his attention.

"What?!" Miguel answers back, hissing. The pedestal lowers as Miguel turns to face the other spider with a look Peter recognized as annoyance.

"This prank with Y/N has gone on for too long..." Peter spat. Miguel raised a brow, confused. "Who? And what prank?" Miguel asked, concerned.

"You know, Y/N...the one you gave that recon mission for Colten?" Miguel pondered for a moment. "Oh yeah...them...I just gave them something so that they'd leave well enough alone." He confessed.

Peter was beyond horrified.

"They've been by your side for longer than many of those here at the Society. This is how you repay them? What is wrong with you..." Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly not wanting to even remotely think about anything other than what he was before. "Look, I do not care...we need room for those who actually want to be here... and Y/N...seems like someone who will end up getting their universe destroyed." Peter continued to stare at the other man in front of him in disbelief.

"What happened to you finally telling them Miguel?" Peter questioned, getting defensive. Miguel rolled his eyes and chuckled. "I don't have time for that right now...maybe another time. But I can't do this right now. So Y/N is going to have to wait." Peter stomped his foot. "You need to do that now...do you have any idea what they've been through? Everyone has been actively ignoring her, her friends are treating her like garbage and left her high and dry and now you? What happened to this community?"

"Peter, this isn't the time nor the place..."

More time had passed and it seemed as if the game was over. Your friends came to your room, finally finished with their prank. They thought it would have been funny to see how long it would take you to realize they were gone...but you thought they just abandoned you. When they reached your room, one thing after another unraveled. Your door opened, and it was exactly how you left it.

Empty.

You were gone.

When Peter B. found out, it seemed to break him more than ever, not only did he lose a friend, he felt like he lost a child.

Miles felt emptier, Pav and Hobie sat in disbelief, and Gwen... couldn't fathom her mentor ever doing what they did.

And Miguel...

It wasn't what anyone would have expected to happen. He locked himself up in his lab trying to pinpoint exactly where you had run off too. Maybe you would have went home...or better yet to one of the other universes. Seemingly, it was as if you fell off into the abyss. Even he asked your friends to call you, yet your number was disconnected. Your watch had been left on the table.

You didn't exist.

That was how you wanted it.

{to be continued...}

[starkwlkr]

hii! maybe it's y/n's birthday charles and their kids are having an argument about who will get the best gift

a rock? thanks! | charles leclerc

yes, it’s another vine reference but instead of an avocado it’s a rock 🙃

Y/n’s birthday was coming up and everyone in the Leclerc household was each getting her something. Ruby had asked her grand-mère to take her to a store to buy her maman a gift. Charles had been planning his gift to his wife for weeks. He was convinced Y/n would love this year’s gift.

While his sister and father did their own thing, little Mathéo Leclerc thought that his mother would like something handmade so he wandered around the house looking for supplies to make his gift. He settled on making her a picture of her.

He kept his gift a secret until a day before his mother’s birthday. It was dinner time and Mathéo was trying to find his mother’s drawing, but it was no where to be found. He lost the most important gift. But he wasn’t going to end up being the only one without a gift. He didn’t want to be embarrassed.

One thing Charles never thought would happen was that he would argue with his children about who had the better gift. It was there next day and Charles got up early to make his wife her birthday breakfast. When he got to the kitchen he was surprised to see his mother and daughter already making waffles and freshly squeezed orange juice.

Ruby had on a little smirk on her face, sitting on the counter with her legs crossed one over the other. “Hi papa.” She knew that her papa would make her maman a special birthday breakfast each year and this year, she had asked her grand-mère to help.

“I never thought that my own daughter would betray me.” Charles walked towards his mother.

“You’re so dramatic, hand me the plate.” Pascale rolled her eyes.

“Just letting my wife know that this was my idea since we’ve met.” Charles stated as he walked to the cabinet to get a plate thrown handed it to his mother.

“You were snoring really loud like I think uncle pierre heard you and he lives in italy so grand-mère and i made maman’s special birthday breakfast.” Ruby said with a smile.

“Yeah, well when your maman sees my gift, she’s going to forget about her special birthday breakfast.” Charles ruffled Ruby’s hair since he knew how much she hated her hair being messed up.

“She better not! Ruby called me at five in the morning to make sure I didn’t forget!” Pascale said.

“Wait, you never got up that early to make me a birthday breakfast.” Charles suddenly remembered.

“That’s because grand-mère loves me and maman more.” Ruby teased.

“Stop it, you two! Now, Ruby, my little beautiful girl, you take this and give it to your maman, okay?” Pascale gave Ruby a small gift bag that contained Ruby’s present to Y/n. “And don’t forget to show your lovely smile, oh! You look so pretty!” Pascale placed a kiss on the girl’s cheek.

She then turned to Charles, who was more than ready to receive compliments from his mother. “Here.” She handed him the tray that had the special birthday breakfast.

“I have a lovely smile too. Ruby got it from me, aren’t you going to compliment my smile?”

“You have a nice smile.” Pascale said and practically shoved him out the kitchen so they could surprise Y/n.

On the way to the bedroom, Ruby giggled. “See? Grand-mère looooooovessss me.”

When the father and daughter got to the already opened door, they heard Y/n talking with Mathéo.

“Happy birthday maman!” Ruby ran to her mother’s side and gave her a hug. “Look! I bought you something!” She gave Y/n the gift bag.

“Aw, you didn’t have to get me anything because you and Théo are my greatest gifts.”

“Say that again, I don’t think papa heard you.” Ruby continued her teasing.

“Okay, okay, you win Ruby Jules,” Charles rolled his eyes. He then placed the special birthday breakfast infront of Y/n and gave her a kiss. “Happy birthday, Mon amour.”

“Thank you, all of you.” Y/n smiled.

“Maman, open my gift!” Ruby exclaimed.

So Y/n did and when she opened the bag, she found a teddy bear with a smaller teddy bear attached to it. “This is adorable! Thank you, Ruby.” Y/n hugged her daughter.

“Yeah, well this is from me and no one else,”Charles continued with his teasing. He handed her a small box that contained a ring. “It’s those rings that have the picture inside when you look. It’s a picture of all of us.”

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” Y/n gave him a kiss.

“Maman, I got you something too.” Little Mathéo shyly spoke.

“You do, my beautiful boy? Let’s see what it is,”Y/n sat up. From behind his back, Mathéo brought out a rock that was just the same size as his hand.

“I named it rock.” Mathéo smiled proudly.

“Rock the rock?” Ruby wondered. “I like Steve better. Steve the rock is better.”

“This is a wonderful rock, Théo. I love it.” Y/n placed a kiss on her son’s forehead.

“It’s a rock?”

“And I love it.”

[slut4thebroken]

Until Next Time

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Neil Lewis x reader

Summary | The second time Neil sees the stranger, he gets a little bolder.

Warnings | Smut, non con, 18+, sexual content, non consensual everything lol, Neil being a creep once again, in public, groping, grinding, thigh fucking, kissing, blackmail, pervy needy Neil.

Words | 2.4 k

Notes | And yes you horny bastards, there will be a part 3 🙄

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Part 1

Every single time he took the subway he was constantly looking around, seeing if you were there. After a couple weeks he started losing hope. He still jerked off to the pictures he took of you, but he accepted that he wasn’t going to see you again. 

That was one week ago. 

He was standing in the subway car looking at his phone when he heard it. “Sorry about that.” He would recognize your sweet voice anywhere. His head snapped up and he looked around until he found you. 

You looked even prettier than he remembered. Your makeup was still subtle, but this time for the day rather than for a club or wherever it was you went, and your hair looked just as soft as last time. He couldn’t see past your neck though. 

He started subtly moving toward you, trying not to draw attention or make it look like he was walking closer. When the doors opened and people were going in and out, he walked quickly, blending in with the movement. You stepped back to give people more room and he was almost behind you now. He could see that you were wearing a tank top— which makes sense given that it’s the middle of summer. But he couldn’t see anything else yet. 

His cock was already fattening up in his pants just staring at you. He waited a tortuously long time for the doors to open again, then he was moving quickly until he was behind you. He saw now that you were wearing a skirt. A pleated one that was just the right length to make you look unintentionally slutty. You were shorter than him now that you weren’t in heels and he stepped a little closer to get a view of your tits again. Were you even wearing a bra? If you were, it must've been strapless. 

He ignored the painful tightness of his pants and focused on you. Were you wearing shorts this time? He prayed the answer was no. Pushing down his nerves, he tentatively raised his hand to lightly grab your hip, making you turn around. Before you could say anything he was shushing you. 

“Before you yell, I want to show you something.” He said quietly, releasing your hip to grab his phone. You seemed to recognize him now, especially when he pulled up a picture and showed it to you. “These have been really useful personally… but I’m sure a lot of other men would love to see it. I’d hate for them to get spread around…” You stood there frozen, staring at the picture of your panties. “I hope you don’t have an important job… This kind of thing will set you off on a completely different path.” He frowned mockingly. 

“M-my face isn’t even in it… There’s no way to know that’s me.”

“Yeah but employers don’t really care about technicalities. One accusation and you’re done.” He shrugged. “So,” he pocketed his phone and placed his hand back on your hip, “are you gonna yell? Or are you gonna be a good little girl and not fuck up your reputation?” He waited for you to respond, but you just stared at him with teary eyes, silently begging him not to. “Smart choice. Turn around.” He said quietly. 

Once you obeyed, he placed both hands on your hips and slid them up to your waist, then back down. He stood closer so he could look down at your tits, hearing your breath hitch when his bulge brushed your ass. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered. “I’ve thought about you every day since then.” You tried to step forward but he just pulled you back, keeping you planted firmly in front of him. One of his hands slid down to grope your ass and it was better than he could’ve imagined. 

“I’ve thought about coming on this ass again every single fucking day.” He groaned, placing a kiss on the back of your neck. When he suddenly turned you around, you gasped and placed your hands on his chest to steady yourself. He snaked his hands up your waist, then up even more until he was groping your tits over the tank top. He bit back a moan once he realized that you weren’t wearing a bra. 

“Jesus Christ.” He murmured, massaging them in his hands. 

“S-stop… Someone will see.” You whispered, trying to push him back by his chest. 

“Someone will see if you draw attention to us. Stay nice and quiet and we’ll be fine, baby.” He looked around behind you and when he was sure no one was watching, he brought his hands down to your thighs and slipped them under your skirt. You gasped when he roughly cupped your ass and pulled you closer. 

With his bulge pressed to your pelvis, he groaned quietly and started rubbing it against you. Under his hands, he could feel the lacy panties you were wearing and he ached to find out what they looked like, but he had to be patient. 

His back was only inches away from the wall and everyone in front of you was facing away, toward the doors. It was practically perfect. Keeping one hand on your ass to hold you still, he moved the other one up to grope your tits again. He was focused on your nipples just barely poking through the fabric, but when he heard a low whimper, his eyes snapped up to your face. There were still tears in your eyes, but your cheeks were flushed and you were biting your bottom lip, holding in any sounds. 

“I fucking knew you wanted this. You’re probably already wet too, huh?” He chuckled quietly and you shook your head with a quiet whine. “No?” He cooed mockingly, tilting his head like a confused puppy. “I think you’re lying to me.” 

“I- I’m not,” you started, but cut off with a gasp when he suddenly pulled your tank top down, exposing your tits. “Wait-” You whispered, panicking. 

“If you make a scene, you’ll draw attention. So go ahead, baby. Make a scene.” He dared and you looked around nervously, trying to see if anyone had noticed what was happening. When you finished examining everyone, you closed your eyes and a tear rolled down your cheek, making his cock throb in his pants. He cursed under his breath and tightened his grip on your ass, then started rubbing up against you even harder. With your tits now out, he used his free hand to grope them, roughly pinching and pulling on your nipples, making you hiss in pain. Once he was satisfied with touching them, he grabbed his phone again. 

“Wait,” You tried to stop him, but he gave you a warning glare and grabbed your ass hard enough to force a whimper out of you. So you shut your mouth and let your arms hang limply by your sides. He took a few pictures, then lifted the front of your skirt to take a few more, this time getting your tits and panties in frame. Before putting his phone away, he righted your clothes, then turned you around and lifted your skirt, getting more pictures of your ass that was barely covered by the slutty lace panties you were wearing. 

“Take them off.” He ordered, pocketing his phone again and turning you back around to face him. 

“What?” You choked out. 

“Take off your fucking underwear. Now.” When you heard his tone, you used shaky hands to slowly push them down your legs, then step out of them. You placed them in his open palm and he immediately lifted them up to his face and inhaled deeply. “Fuck.” He hissed and you let out an embarrassed whine. “God you smell fucking incredible.” He groaned quietly, already getting excited at just the thought of being able to smell your cunt when he jerks off at home. 

Unable to take it anymore, he stuffed your underwear in his pocket, pulled your tank top back down to expose your tits, then grabbed your ass under your skirt and continued grinding his bulge against you. His movements were desperate and far too obvious for their current setting, but he didn’t care. All he could focus on was how soft your ass was, how pretty and perfect your tits were, and how beautiful you looked trying to hold back tears from his assault. 

“You drive me fucking crazy.” He whispered with a small smile. Suddenly leaning forward, he kissed across your neck, making you whimper quietly. He bit and licked, but mostly focused on sucking the skin into his mouth, leaving as many marks as possible. He wanted everyone to see how much of a pathetic slut you are for him— for a stranger. As the intoxicating smell of your perfume invaded his senses, he groaned and his kisses got sloppier. 

Anyone who looked back would just see a couple being slightly perverted in public, with him grabbing your ass and kissing your neck. But they wouldn’t know that you were bare under your skirt, letting him mark you and claim you as he got himself off with your body. They wouldn’t be able to see the way your tits were out, your hard nipples pressing against his chest. And they wouldn’t be able to see the way you were crying silently. 

When he pulled away from your neck, he kept his face only inches from yours, feeling your breath fanning his lips. Unable to hold back, he moved one hand to fist your hair and hold your still as he surged forward, pressing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. You whimpered and tried to push him back, but he was unmoving. Wanting to deepen it, he forced his tongue in your mouth, licking into the kiss, making you whine and try even harder to pull back. He couldn’t really decipher the taste of your mouth but it was something sweet. After another moment, he pulled back, a trail of saliva connecting your lips. 

“Fuck, baby.” He rasped, voice thick with arousal. His orgasm was nearing quickly and he looked around once more, then released you to open his pants and free his cock, making you stiffen. 

“W-wait,” Your breathing grew shallow as your eyes widened. He shushed you and grabbed your ass again, pulling you closer until his cock was between your thighs, pressed up against your heat. 

“Kiss my neck, baby. C’mon.” He all but whined, desperately bucking his hips and fucking your thighs. “You know what I’ll do if you don’t.” He said through a breath, making you stiffen, but lean forward. He held his breath until your lips pressed against his neck. “Oh my god.” He whimpered. “Leave some marks.” He practically begged. 

Reluctantly, you sucked and licked and kissed and bit all over his neck. Leaving a few marks and making him even needier. Through heavy lidded eyes, he looked around the crowded subway car, finding everyone still either facing away from them, or focused on something. This was so fucking perfect. 

“Good girl. Keep going… Put your hands in my hair.” With a silent sob, you lifted your hands and gently grabbed his hair. “God— you’re gonna make me come.” He said through a breathy laugh. “Squeeze your thighs together.” You obeyed and he had to bite down on your shoulder to stifle a moan. 

His hips started bucking more frantically now. If anyone looked over, it wouldn’t take them long to figure out that something inappropriate was going on. But he was so fucking horny and drunk on you that he didn’t even care. He wouldn’t care if every single person turned around and started watching. They wouldn’t see your tits or feel your ass like he could, they couldn’t feel your lips or the softness of your thighs. So he didn’t give two shits if people wanted a free show. It didn’t change the fact that you were his.  

“You’re so good at this.” He whined, enjoying the feeling of your lips on his neck and your body against his. He was able to smell your perfume and your hair so clearly and it was making his brain practically go blank. 

When the subway stopped, he paused and held you close to make sure no one could see your tits. He waited until the subway started moving again before continuing, listening to the automated voice call out the next stop— his stop. Tightening his grip on your ass, he started rutting his hips faster as he chased his orgasm. You continued kissing over his neck and lightly pulling on his hair, getting him so worked up that his dick almost hurt with how hard it was. 

“Don’t stop… don’t stop, baby.” He whispered breathily, moving one hand from your ass to squeeze and grope your tits. You whined quietly and it was like everything inside him just snapped. He bit down on your shoulder and pulled his hips back to jerk himself off quickly until he finally fell over the edge. Each rope of come that shot out his cock landed between your legs, covering your cunt in his seed— marking you. He grunted quietly as he panted, riding it out and savoring it as much as possible. When his orgasm finally faded, he tucked himself back in his pants, then pulled back to look at you with a smile. 

“You’re such a good girl.” He chuckled, taking out his phone. “Lift your skirt for me.” You let out a silent sob, but took the bottom of it in your shaky hands and slowly pulled it up. He took a few close up pictures of your pussy and some wider shots when his come started dripping down your thighs, then pulled back even more to get your tits in it too. “Smile.” He chuckled, getting once of just your face and your tits. That’ll probably be the one he uses the most. He put his phone away and bit his lip as he stared at you, reaching out to feel your tits one last time. 

“Goddamn…” He muttered to himself. The subway slowing down snapped him out of the trance he was in. “This is my stop. Thanks again.” He smiled, moving his gaze up to look into your glossy eyes. “Until next time.” The way he said it was as if you both had your own inside joke now. You didn’t respond as you fixed your tank top and wiped the tears and mascara tracks from under your eyes, but he wasn’t exactly expecting you to. When the subway finally stopped and the doors opened, he walked out, already imagining what would happen the next time he saw you. 

Part 3

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @theoraekenslover @kaorisakamotofan @scorpiussage @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @aviamulier @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @xxorazz @halleysc6met @crunchsworld @babaohhhriley @deceitfuldevout @gentyleman @lorelais-world @shroombloom-rry @pinguwrites @thatonesinglefriend @bernelflo @milktert @nyxxie.pooh @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @milkytomura @bigbossbabysworld @sheisthedxrkness @hanawrites404 @ll4n4 @madeinuk

[birdbaddie]

I promise

yooooo

literally my first post ever so yippeeeee.

I got inspired by another post on here so I decided to make some glop of my own 😈. Reader's technique is basically just wings and healing, I will go in more depth in future oneshots.

ft. Satoru x f!Reader, mostly platonic!Megumi x f.Reader

Both Satoru and reader are around 20 and Megumi is around 8.

-discusses- violence, injuries, hurt+Comfort, poor baby Megumi needs a hug :( and Satoru being Satoru. Enjoy!

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‘That worthless Tatsuya!’

Megumi kicked a stone as he stomped out of the school gates. Usually he wouldn’t care less when Tatsuya or any of his other goons picked on him but things just kept going wrong for him the past week and to top it off- that rat decided to start talking about you and Satoru and how weird it was that you were his guardians.

“Did you see that tall guy rolling around yesterday because he dropped his ice-cream?”

“Yeah my mom says to avoid them because they are dangerous to everyone”

Megumi didn’t understand when Tatsuya said dangerous. He understood the strength both of his guardians had but he couldn’t have meant that.

“No wonder Megumi is so strange, Do you think he’s as dangerous as his guardians?”

“Let’s not go near him, he can’t hurt anyone if he’s alone”

Megumi would’ve punched those bullies without hesitation but he made a promise with you last week after the 7th home call about his fighting.

“Megumi, you can’t keep doing this. You know that right?” 

He remembers your soft voice and your equally soft hands cleaning the cuts on his hands. He kept quiet though because he knew if he spoke he might’ve either cried or became angry again and that would only make you worry more.

“Listen, I just don’t want you getting hurt. I know you have a good heart and have the right reasons but hitting others is never the right option no matter how right your reason is”

You quickly healed his cuts with your technique and he felt a rush of calmness envelop him, the way it always does when you have to use your technique on him.

“Promise me you will stop doing this, It makes me upset whenever I see even one scratch on you. I know we’re only your guardians but we love you and only want what's best for you, please Megumi….”

He looked at your face for the first time since coming back from school. You had tears ready to fall as you gently gripped his hands. He didn’t know if it was your technique or not but your emotions were always obvious, and with the way your eyebrows were as furrowed as they could be and you biting your lip to stop you from sobbing told him all he needed to know how you were feeling.

And it was all because of him.

“I promise”

Megumi sits on the sidewalk as he waits for you to pick him up. 

It’s been 2 years since you and Gojo took him in and he hates to admit that he’s started getting attached to both of you. Attached enough now that if something happened to you or Gojo and it resulted in both him and Tsumiki getting separated from you two, he would give up on trying altogether. 

Gojo was meant to pick him up today but with a surprise mission all the way in Osaka, it was your job. Tsumiki has been ill all week too so it was just him. 

He sighs and rests his head on his hand as he pretends to draw pictures on the road with his feet. He contemplates releasing his divine dogs to play with or just to keep him company as he waits for you but he decides against it because he thinks you will be there soon anyway. 

You were never late.

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It’s been twenty minutes, where were you?

The sky was beginning to turn orange and he was the only one there.

Did she forget?........ No she never does when it comes to him and Tsumiki.

What if she just left him on purpose?

It wouldn’t have been the first time it's happened. Not with her specifically, but what if she’s just realised she can leave him just like his parents?

Megumi begins to curl in on himself as these thoughts keep coming.

‘What if that fight I was in last week was the final straw?’

His breathing started to become heavy as he willed himself not to cry.

What if that fight last week just revealed other things you didn’t like about him? What if you hated the way he’s only been cold and despondent since you took him in? What if you hated the fact you not only had to look after him but his sister too? What if you wanted to get rid of him because he took the rest of yours and Gojo’s childhood? What if-

“Megumi?”

He didn’t even realise when there was a large shadow blocking him from the harsh rays of the setting sun. And he especially didn’t realise the familiar comforting hand smoothing his hair.

He looks up to see your enormous white wings shielding him from the sun and your concerned eyes as you try and figure out what happened by not so subtly checking him for any injuries.

You reach for his face and he flinches. Your concern only grows as you reach again and wipe his tears away. Another thing he didn’t realise that happened.

“Are you okay?”

Megumi just stares as he once again couldn’t get the words out of his mouth, worried he might say too much.

“Did something happen in school?”

“He can’t hurt anyone if he’s alone”

He felt soft feathers surround him as he heard loud sobs and wailing. The hand that was in his hair went to his back and started rubbing small circles. As heard quiet comforting words come from the woman hugging him.

‘Is that me crying?’

The woman tightens her hug as she feels tiny arms wrap around her.

Megumi mumbled something in your neck so you strained back to hear him.

“What did you say?”

“I'm sorry” 

His voice was so quiet you almost didn’t hear him.

“Sorry for what gumi?” At this point you were on the verge of calling Satoru to help you with this as you have never seen such a visceral reaction come from this eight year old.

“Please don’t leave us! I promise we’ll be good! I promise we’ll never do anything bad ever again! I promise!-”

“Megumi slow down! No ones leaving you, don’t you remember what I promised you last week?”

Megumi started to calm down as he remembered the rest of your conversation.

“I promise”

You sigh as you both get quiet, with you rubbing his now perfectly healed hands.

“Could you promise me something?”

You look into his eyes with surprise as he asks this. Megumi never asks for anything so it came as a shock, especially when it was as big as a promise.

You smile as you let go of his hands to put the baby wipes back away.

“I guess it’s only fair after I asked you to promise something”

Megumi watches your movements and waits for you to sit back down at the table beside him.

“Could you promise………that you’ll always be here for me and Tsumiki?”

Surprised at his bluntness, you didn’t realise how open Megumi would be tonight. But you just showed him a reassuring smile as you affectionately ruffled his hair.

“Well you’re in luck Gumi, that’s a promise I made to myself the day I met you”

The corners of his lips started to turn up into a smile before the front door burst open with the freak strutting in with the goofiest smile.

A scowl quickly made its way onto his face as he turned away from the idiot making his way over.

“Were you having a family bonding moment without me??? For shame!” satoru quickly threw the medicine for Tsumiki onto the table and decided to plop himself onto Megumi's chair, with Megumi still in it.

“Get off you overgrown lint-roller!” Megumi tries to hit him as Satoru faces you.

“So how was your day Sweets?” Satoru completely ignores the squirming Megumi trying to breathe. 

And as you tried and failed to get Satoru off the complaining Megumi, Megumi realised although right now he’d rather be anywhere else- He also wishes to stay right here with them for as long as the universe would let him.

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By now, Megumi has fully calmed down as you helped him to his feet.

“Satoru will be home tonight and Tsumiki has been looking much better today, so why don’t we go and get some ice cream for later, hm?”

And as Megumi grabs your hand to start walking to the convenience store he realises he’ll never be alone as long as you, Satoru and Tsumiki were always with him. He doesn’t have to worry about any of you guys leaving him because you want him as much as he wants you. Screw what everyone else thinks, your little family works and no one could change that.

“Thank you, mom”

[chessboredom]

Can we please get a rant on PV's characterization ? Asking both to hear your thoughts and to see if I need to reevaluate my own idea of it because accidentally mischaracterizing favourite characters is my biggest fear ":)

So I'm having the thing where "opening your favorite character's tag only to see mischaracterizations" That makes me go "Oh I can't wait to look at fanart of my blorbos in tumblr dot com!" only to remember that people play the English version(scum of the earth) and not the Korean version(literal Cookie Run Bible to me) and then feel like I directly get shotgunned at the face and I never open the tags ever again.

This is Not to say that "Your characterization is wrong!!" or me trying to discourage anyone. It's just not for me, das all. Go do whatever you want forever.

ANYWAYYYY

(I'm still continuin this LMAO)(NOT DONE YET UUGGHHHHHHH)(still isn't done but I'll just make a new post lol)

This also extends to Shadow Milk characterization because I cannot characterize one without the other as a compliment. (I have the Chronic Narrative Foil illness from being a dirkjohn shipper. That god forsaken ship rewires your brain. I've made people like them and I clearly see the impact.)

PV is not nice, he is kind. His actions take effort with no exchange. He could impact a group of people one day, they love him, but they disappear. This is the part where he lies. PV is self-sacrificial, and he says anything that would benefit his subjects happiness over himself. It's important for him that they be happy for their whole life because they are all fleeting but he isn't. He is immortal.

(This is because I see people draw him hugging Smilk, which is something Smilk would HATE SO MUCH.)

He also changed from a patriarchic kingdom into a democratic kingdom.

And he isn't above violence, he just chooses to not participate in it until he didn't have a choice when they were fighting against Dark Enchantress. He protected his friends then stepped forward to attack her with everything he's got, and it's DARK MOON MAGIC. NO SOUL JAM. (I should mention that he USED TO be in the Middle position. This is a Smilk parallel.) Then gets SUCKED into a singularity she made which EXPLODED EVERYTHING AROUND THE KINGDOM TURNING IT INTO A BARREN WASTELAND, still manages to trap her in the Moonstone. He even enclosed the Vanilla Kingdom IN A TIME STASIS and IT FLOATS IN THE SKY. <-ALSO MADE WITH DARK MOON MAGIC, which is similar to SMILK'S DIMENSION but Smilk's has the future of the past and the present coexist.

(I correct my past assumptions about Healer Cookie now too.)

This so comes with the price of losing his memories, but his miraculous healing stayed. THIS was another parallel to him becoming "Truthless Recluse" (The Hermit of Truth in Korean) when Dark Enchantress said that he was "falling deeper and deeper into the abyss." PV's self was hidden in the dark side of the moon with the Light of Truth who was always calling out to him, until Gingerbrave came and changed everything, and then it made the voice louder. That's why his eyes were open majority of the time when he was Healer Cookie nearing the end of the Timeless Kingdom adventure, because he wasn't *full* Pure Vanilla yet. (PLURALITY MENTION!!) Healer Cookie is another personality who is taking place for Pure Vanilla's arrival. Until PV finally comes back, then reuniting once more with Healer Cookie, who is also himself.

Then he just sends Gingerbrave and Friends™️ into a quest to send letters to the other Ancients' kingdoms because he had to stay in the Vanilla kingdom, and the possible survivor's guilt he holds in that Dark Flour War and also to avoid the shock of having to meet them in person because you know he's understanding the situations they're possibly in since it's been decades since they met.

One Ancient who deeply cares for him as a friend is Hollyberry Cookie. Friendship gang's first meeting with Hollyberry Cookie was her PRETENDING to be a different cookie because of the CRUSHING GUILT she had of not being able to protect her friend that she abandoned her kingdom and her role as queen(sloth moment). And in one of PV's kingdom interactions with her is HB asking if he ate. 😭(I LOVE THEIR FRIENDSHIP SO MCUH)

(I WILL STILL NEED TO WATCH BEAST YEAST EP 1 - 2 AGAIN TO ADD TO THIS I SWAER. TO GO.D)

Skip to EP 7 - 8....

PV went to the Spire after they just found some totally (not) legit info about "Beast Binding Ritual," he met Fortune Teller Cookie, who was also himself(I cannot read tarot card. Might do that later), and then he was separated from the Friendship Gang because Smilk couldn't care less about them. Smilk wants Pv to focus on HIM. Main Character of the show. Not PV, the half-penny(fool or idiot). He literally puts himself into PV's memories, and then proceeds to tell PV that "I've been with you your WHOLE LIFE." "You need me." Okay projecting bitch. Shut up. That's bullshit.

PV doesn't need Smilk. PV has lived with no Smilk. It's the other way around. Smilk NEEDS PV. He's obsessed with him. Very obsessed that he is PROJECTING. In En he called PV his "other-half," but in Kr he called Pv his "lesser half." He is still in control. He does NOT want to see others authority over him, despite their theme of King and Jester.

Historically is that jesters where actually an incredibly valued part of royal family’s almost treated like a noble and were the closest to the king outside of his family. They where just silly goofy guys that they kept around. Jesters where so respected they would stand next to kings and help them make important decisions. A lot of jesters WERE scholars. They had to be diplomats in place of their kings.

At the time of Tr!PV, he wanted to push him to the BRINK OF BREAK DOWN. (Take a look at this freaky shit here.) But good thing Friendship Gang was there making him remember who he is, or else he would've actually became a Cookie of Lies, and remembers that his role and purpose, just like Healer Cookie, was to ACT like a different person until PV wakes up and becomes one again. This is a parallel to how Smilk has different identities in different times and ages, which are also himself.

Tr!PV's WORDS(in Korean) are so perfect, that he even manage to fool Smilk himself through making him think that HE has the upper hand. He even mentions it later when he was awakened. (I have to look for that part again.)

With his new awakened form making Smilk crash out for lying and being a traitor, and then he literally beats the shit out of Smilk 2-3 consecutive times because he's a stubborn child who doesn't want to. (Seeing fanart of PV hugging Smilk is so ??? to me. Smilk would rather DIE.)

DON'T GET ME STARTED WITH THIS. ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS DO NOT SHOW THIS LEVEL OF UNDERSTANDING IN HIS WORDS.

Smilk wanted to end it all!!! He doesn't need PV. He doesn't need the Soul Jam. HE WANTS TO DESTROY IT ALL. (Goofy ahh tantrum.)

Now the part about Shadow Milk and touching, and being "touch-starved." But people seem to forget he is a CONTROL FREAK. He's gonna have some tantrum if the narrative isn't in his control. Yes, he would love the sense of touching PV, as long as he leads. He NEEDS to be in control. He NEEDS to be in the spot light or else he'll be weak and he doesn't want to be seen weak. Like, he's already accustomed to being starved of touch. And receiving it makes him feel sick. >> I answered an ask here.

And about ShadowVanilla; I keep seeing the joke "friendzone" and then seeing Smilk be disappointed which is... something... Like... The kind "relationship" Smilk made for them wasn't getting married, (but they are Metaphorically as Narrative Foils) it was FORCED through TORTURE because THAT'S ALL HE KNEW HOW TO MAKE A RELATIONSHIP. He wanted to share a soul with PV because it was his fear of being alone that he rather drown himself than face that Truth, and that was the ONLY TIME Smilk made himself vulnerable. Do you think he had a choice when the Witches created him with the other Virtues? They immediately had sentience with no young adult stage to meet naturally like how the Ancients slowly melded into a friend group, and they had no kingdoms to attend to back then. And the Virtues need to work together while being entrusted with a bunch of cookies, which for them is equivalent to taking care of ants.

And that being said, with the consideration Smilk is a literal cookie god who never felt a touch of another cookie in millennium, being invited into a friendship (with another cookie who he was not baked with in the dawn of time) is the most intimate shit he's going to get. He may Know everything(LITERAL NERD OVER HERE), but he never had Any EXPERIENCE. As slutty as he looks and acts, he is one. VIRGIN. LOSER. (TO ME!!)

To end this rant. Control Freak character weakness: Getting dicked down by some guy with a kind heart(who is unexpectedly freakier than Control Freak).