#because he was a breakfast fiend

[samayla]

Not me over here, speed-running all the stages of grief because I made eggs on toast like my dad's, only I tried frying the eggs in chili crisp this morning, and they're Amazing, and they're better than his, and he would Love them, but he's not around anymore, so I can't cook them for him, or call him to tell him about it, and no one else in my family loves breakfast quite like he did, so no one else will be as excited about these stupid, stupid eggs as he would...

[yandere-sins]

Angel Shot

This was just a quick warm up before breakfast after I doomscrolled social media :) If you don't know what an "Angel Shot" is, feel free to google it, it's actually a very nice concept.

Warning: Yandere, Fem!Reader, Non-Con Touches, Alcohol, Force Feeding Drinking, Refusal of assistance to a person in need, Humiliation

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"An 'Angel Shot', please."

The languid polishing of the beer glass came to a slow halt as the bartender processed your order. Your heart was beating so hard that your chest began to hurt from the pressure. The older gentleman looked up, staring straight into your soul with eyes that had lost all their sparkle and all the usual energy one possessed. Those were the eyes of someone who had seen too much in his life and fought too hard to survive.

He reminded you of the self you'd be in the future.

Curling your sweaty palms into fists on top of the counter, you opened your mouth again, repeating, "Angel Shot." Although it was much quieter this time, barely audible over the loud live music and talking patrons in the bar, you knew he heard you.

This was your only chance. You didn't care why that criminal took you to his favorite bar instead of letting you go. Didn't know why he'd care about going out to drink and socialize after you cried out all your anger. He'd just been sitting on the couch without so much of a reaction while you screamed and raged, pleaded, and sobbed, only to get up and announce you were going out, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you with him.

The bartender finally set down the glass, pulling the toothpick from between his lips before facing you, recognizing your presence with his attention. "No such thing here, Sweety."

You watched as his gaze fell over your shoulder, and he gave a short nod to someone behind you. Even though you didn't need to turn around to know it was that psycho who had forced you into his car and made you share his bed ever since, you still glanced back, catching his eyes on you, gaze never wavering. Even as he pushed a hand of party mix into his mouth, he kept staring, a knowing grin spreading as he wiped the crumbs from his lips.

"Nothing personal, Love," the bartender drew your attention back to him. The sound of glasses being set in front of you—a large one obviously filled with beer and a small shot glass with transparent fluids swiveling inside—was what made you focus on him again. Toothpick back in his mouth, the bartender held out a piece of paper towards you, nudging it for you to grab.

"Can't make the boss angry."

And with that, he left to tend to other people along the bar. Tears threatened to well up again in your eyes as you stared at the paper, folding it open to reveal a rankly written 'Angel Shot' on it. You stuffed it between your skin and waistband, not wanting the "boss" to know what it said.

Grabbing the two drinks, you had no choice but to bring them over to the table, his smirk widening at the sight of you serving him. You thought about dumping it all over his head, or at least his crotch, so it would look like he pissed himself and stir up a commotion. But if even the bartender, a savior of lost souls, refused to help you because he was too afraid of your captor, then you doubted anyone here would be on your side.

Setting down the drinks next to the criminal, you banged your hips into the table as his hand fell to the back of your thigh, not expecting the sudden touch. It roused some heads, but once they glanced in your direction and then at him, they all lowered again.

"Thanks for the drinks, Babe," he chuckled, hand driving ever higher on your leg, his pointer stretching away from the others to dig into your supple ass cheek before he ultimately grabbed it with his whole hand.

You swatted at his hand, pushing it down. Shame betraying your expression, you whipped around, ready to complain that you were in public, when this fiend hooked a finger under your waistband and pulled you roughly forward. Your feet threatened to stumble over themselves if not for another arm snaking around your midriff, catching you mid-air, and pulling you onto his lap.

But to your horror, the second you regained control of your body, you felt his finger curl beneath your waistband, the scrapping of paper against your skin unmistakably.

"No, wait!" you gasped, trying to push the note down and pull his hand out of your clothes, but he was quicker. Curling his pointer around the paper, he tugged it out and leaned back in the chair, causing you to go after him to retrieve the message by climbing entirely on top of him. Too late did you realize your mistake, his free arm tightening around your back and pressing you down with force so you couldn't escape, couldn't bring any distance between your bodies, rendering you caught.

"What do we have here?" he teased, and for some reason, you thought he already knew. With only one hand, your captor managed to unfold the piece of paper, leaning his head back to read it. "Ah~" he hummed, sounding almost satisfied. "Clever girl."

With that, he simply let go of the paper, allowing it to flutter to the ground without a care. You watched it sink, your feelings betraying you by shooting helpless tears into your eyes as you felt all your effort being in vain. The paper may have drifted down gently, but it was as if a ton of weight was crushed down on you simultaneously.

"Now, now. You're supposed to have fun. Drink, dance, enjoy some time away from home."

"How could I—"

"Ah, ah, no talking back. Have a drink and be merry."

Swatting his hand against your rear, you jolted, fingers curling into his shoulders where you had found hold. This situation was so infuriating, the way you could do nothing against that bastard. You watched him briefly turn away from you to grab one of the glasses, the cocky, self-assured smile never wavering while you felt your own face go through the first four stages of grief.

He held up the shot glass in front of you, the undefined liquid gently swaying inside, but you tightened your lips, refusing to take what he was giving you. "Angel Shot for you. That's what you wanted, right?"

The mockery wasn't lost on you, and it must have shown as the criminal's grin widened. Then, suddenly, he sighed, shaking his head. His next words were quieter, but the impact was tremendous. He'd not let you argue this.

"Don't be a party pooper," he mumbled. "Everyone's watching, enjoying the show. Let them welcome you to the gang in their own way."

Still, you refused. He held it up for a few more seconds before sighing again. Things happened quickly as he loosened his arm around your waist, only for his hand to shoot up to your head, fingers burying into your hair. With a swift chug, he poured the liquor into his mouth before crashing it against yours. There was no doubt what he wanted to do, the fluids burning against your lips as you tried hard to keep it outside.

But the next thing you knew was your nose being pinched, a gasp escaping you as the burning sensation spread all over your mouth. It hurt all the way down your throat, bitterly and angrily, as the alcohol raked against the sensitive skin of your mouth. You'd never tasted anything so foul, disgust twisting your gut.

It was only made worse by the probing tongue licking up the remnants of the alcohol, perhaps spreading it further. Your head was wrangled by the grip on your hair until your body was bent and bowed in a way that allowed your captor to thoroughly abuse the position you were in, never breaking the toxic kiss as long as he wanted. Breathing was hard; everything hurt. Tears streamed down your temples and forehead, following the gravity while your head was strung upside down.

You didn't enjoy a second of it while your captor only groped you harder with his free hand, letting a low groan rumble from his to your chest. You wished you could have thrown up in his mouth, but it was simply impossible to do anything. When he finally released you, with only one arm around you and gripping your ass to steady your body, you coughed and gagged while he peacefully sat back, picked up the beer, and took a few sips.

Stupidly, you didn't think twice when you were offered a random glass from somewhere, your mouth and nose burning with the aftermath of that shot. If there was no chance of immediately evacuating someone who asked for an Angel Shot, shouldn't the shot not at least have been water to not enhance the predicament of the poor person suffering from it? You didn't even know what it was that had assaulted you so, but it did seem to have amused the crowd, their cheering and applause finally catching your ears.

Eager to stop the pain, you took a swig of the drink that had been handed to you, the disgusting, volatile taste of beer spreading over your tongue. This time, you could stop and spit, not enough to throw up, but at least enough to cause some laughs and "Ew!"s to erupt from the bar patrons.

You pushed the glass back into your captor's hand, not caring if the fluids swapped onto his clothes or anything, as you pushed yourself away. From your excursion to the bar, you knew where the bathroom was, but all you heard were the whistles of the people around you and the laughter of your captor as you stormed off with more tears sullying your face.

This was only the beginning of the torture, you assumed. The lack of knowledge of why it was you that he kidnapped and why he was treating you so cruelly was slowly tearing apart your mental stability, but at least in the bathroom, you'd be able to cry in peace and regain some composure. And most importantly: wash out your mouth from the filth they served at this rundown bar.

"Don't take too long," you heard your captor shout after you, and you shot a glare back over your shoulder as you reached the bathroom door. He was grinning, watching you as he sipped his beer. There was a stain on his clothes, and although small, that victory soothed some of the fury you felt. But his eyes were burning embers. There was a fire in his gaze as he fixated on you, never looking away, barely blinking. You didn't understand how he could feel this passionate while being in a place so void of excitement, but it gave you goosebumps.

You said nothing as you slipped through the gap in the door, but the last thing you heard was, "Bartender! One round of "Angel Shots" for the bar!"

Followed by the roaring and cheers of the crowd, letting you know that no one here was on your side.

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Springtime Caresses

III. Angsty Dadstarion, but it's quite alright.

“Here, papa, here! You have to lie down right here! Don’t move!” 

Warm grass tickles the back of Astarion’s neck. With his eyes closed to the bright sun above him, he listens to his surroundings, takes in the bird song and wind dancing through the trees. The static buzz of honey bees. Children’s play. 

Life. 

He’s not asleep but pretends to be. It’s part of the game, or so he’s been told. 

“Sweet dreams, papa!” 

Most of his dreams are sweet these days, but he doesn’t mention that, just complies. 

The scents of sun-warmed soil and perfectly ripened strawberries carry a promise of summer to his nose, lulling Astarion into a twilight state of content drowsiness. Maybe he will allow himself to fall into reverie, after all. He’s tranced in worse places, and with worse company, too. 

But that was a long time ago.

Now, he enjoys ruining his silken shirts with grass stains. Fresh air filling his lungs all day long. The feeling of tiny hands weaving wildflowers into his silver curls. 

Even after all these years, this experience will never cease feeling novel to him—the warmth, the tranquillity. This deep sense of belonging.

Peace.

It’s not a sweet dream, but reality. It’s as real as the wild shrieks and laughter sweeping across the meadow. Children jumping over and around him, eager to slay this or that imaginary fiend. The hem of a skirt he mended only last night brushing against his legs. A young boy humming a song his mother sang over breakfast close to his ear. 

Astarion smiles, or tries not to, since he’s promised to be fast asleep—even when there’s a sudden tug at his hair. 

The humming stops; the laughter fades into displeased groans all around him. Astarion doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that the face eclipsing the sun above him is a much younger version of his own. 

“Careful, Miri, that hurts papa!” The boy scolds as he gently untangles his little sister’s hand from their father’s locks.

“Uh-oh!” the toddler mumbles before she helps the boy pick stray sticks from Astarion’s hair. “Bad!”  

“Yes, Miri—bad.” 

Astarion suppresses the urge to take his daughter’s clumsy hand in his and press a soothing kiss to her small fingers, telling her it’s quite alright. That no harm was done. There never is. Not here. Not with them. 

But all he has to do today is feign sleep, so he will reassure the child later when it’s his turn to braid her hair in time for bed.

“Sorry, papa,” another girl calls from near the treeline. “Miri didn’t mean to hurt you! But don’t worry, we’ll protect you from the true beast!” 

This time, Astarion cannot help the faint smile tugging at his lips. 

It’s a lovely promise, lisped through missing front teeth. And it’s true—most of the time, at least. 

These children, this family he helped create with nothing but love and devotion, distract him from the beast prowling the everlasting darkness far in the back of his mind.

Yet, sometimes, distraction alone isn’t enough… 

Astarion doesn’t like to dwell on the rare occasions when the beast eventually does find its way to him. It’s tamer now, the years have made it lazy enough, but every now and then, it will probe him. It can still sniff out the weakness he’ll never be able to shed, knows whenever he’s at his lowest. 

The beast only lunges at easy prey—it always has.

So, sometimes, when Astarion’s nights are tense with endless whining, misplaced toys and sharp words, the beast breathes down his neck, whispers in his ear.

On your back, boy, right here. Do not move. It will not hurt unless you let it. Your screams have always sounded the sweetest. Are you hurting, yet? Good, it’s because I want you to. It’s what you deserve, you insolent fool. Have you no respect for yourself? That’s why they hate you so, that’s why you’re but a pathetic little boy who’s never amounted to anything that’s why you’re nothing that’s why—

Once the older children perform their duty to scold the youngest among them, the laughter returns. Their faceless fiend is fair game again and all Astarion has to do is sleep, trust in his family’s sweet promise that holds his cure. 

Because, as exhausting as it is, he has learned to ignore the beast, become numb to its poison. It’s a thing of the past and he won’t let it taint his future. 

Astarion lets out a deep breath. He can feel himself grow tired under the little hands stroking his hair.

“No worry, papa.”

No worry, no. Not here. Not with them. Never with them…

There’s a gust of wind coming from up north. It carries the scents of sickly sweet strawberries and petrichor and, ever so slowly, Astarion can feel his mind slipping. 

He doesn’t sleep; he hasn’t in a very long time. Sleep, true sleep, is vulgar and reminds him of death. Instead, Astarion drowns in memories, but even there he’s buried six feet under today. 

There are no strawberries in this freshly dug grave, only the stink of decay. The damp wood of his coffin presses uncomfortably into his back while worms and maggots tickle his neck. Eating at him. Consuming him. 

His broken fingernails hurt as he claws at the darkness surrounding him—this deep in the ground, all shades of grey are tainted black. Sometimes he wonders if his eyes are even open, but they must be because they burn with tears and blood and dust.

There’s laughter coming from somewhere above. It’s rumbling like far-away thunder; it hasn’t reached him, yet, but the threat of it is already stunning him with fear.

He cannot speak he cannot see he cannot be he cannot—

The laughter isn’t coming from above, nor is it coming from anywhere, really. It’s residing inside his head, this vile laughter that won’t let him in on the joke. And why would it? He is nothing, is he not? All he is is blood and screams and death. Bodies piled atop his aching shoulders, weighing him down.

So why is he moving? Why is he digging through wet soil until he can see moonlight illuminating his path to…

The beast eclipses the moon and the stars shining down on him. It has stopped laughing, though its maw is stretched into an unnatural grin, revealing a pair of sharp fangs—the key to the wounds on his neck. A promise of endless misery.

He cannot stop moving towards the beast. It holds its claws out to him, stroking his hair, scratching his scalp raw. There you are, boy, always crawling back to me. My good, prodigal son—look at you! Do you know why you’re here? With me? It’s because, after all these years, you’re still mine. And you will always be.

“Astarion?”

There’s a light drizzle soaking his skin. 

Astarion opens his eyes to a sun that’s crawled past its zenith, taking the music of children’s play with it. The silence feels oppressive, just like the calm before a great storm, and all he can feel are the small, warm bodies Astarion helped create press against him. They’re curled up against his side, lying draped over his legs, clutching his arm. Weighing him down.

No.

Grounding him, always ever grounding him. 

He needs to shield his sleeping children from the rain, he thinks, but his arms are still caged somewhere between nightmare and reality. 

Fuck, how long had he been out?

Astarion inhales deeply. He just needs a moment to come to his senses.

He can smell rain-soaked cotton, crisp air and that faint scent of magic he would recognise even if he were buried deep in the ground.

Oh, of course…

“Astarion.”

He allows himself a relieved half-smile as the rain above him is coming to a sudden halt a moment later. 

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, my heart,” Tav says as she steps into the meadow, one eyebrow raised at the sight in front of her. “But what in the nine hells are you doing out here?”

Astarion can only watch as little droplets of rain run down the magic dome enclosing him and the children, tear drops that can never reach them now. 

“I’m a sleeping princess, or so I’ve been told. But I’m rather afraid my knights in shining armour fell asleep before they got to wake me…” 

Tav joins her family under her shield of magic, strokes the head of the child closest to her as she smiles at her husband.

“I see. May I kiss you awake instead, then?” 

“You already have, darling,” Astarion whispers. “But do it again, yes? Just to be on the safe side…?” 

His hand brushes the swell of Tav’s stomach as she’s trying to settle comfortably against him. It’s getting rather crowded—the house, life, moments like this—but there’s always room for one more, Astarion thinks.

Tav grins as she sweetly kisses her way from his cheek to his mouth, where she finally lingers. 

To Astarion, Tav’s lips taste of freedom, of nightmares swiftly broken. Of home—the best distraction he never dared to hope for. One he never wants to end.

In the distance, there’s a gentle thunder rolling towards the meadow, but that’s quite alright. Astarion knows that it can’t do any harm. Not here. Not with them.

Never with his family around him.

@seaofdaydreams , my dear, I hope you do not mind me borrowing Miri's name for this one ♡

more Dadstarion content

tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @bardic-inspo @kawaiiusagichansan @darlingxdragon @herautumnmorningelegance

[sweetsaladpainterranch]

The Rival (Part 2)

(Summary: Alastor sought to possess one of the only does in Pentagram City for the rut season, however, you wanted a mate, not a master. But what happens when a handsome new buck shows up one day and tries to capture your attention away from the Radio Demon. Who will you choose?)

Hey, so here is part two as promised (I rewrote it like 40 times 😅) please continue keep in mind that it's just practice for a beginner's writing class

***

Alastor POV

GOD, DAMN HIM ALL OVER AGAIN! How dare this bastard come into HIS territory and make eyes at HIS adorable doe. And how could Charlie, the naïve ninny, allow this…this interloper into their hotel as a guest? Going as far as to prevent him from watering the front lawn with the other male’s blood (and perhaps impaling his head on the entrance gate) in warning for any other foolish would-be usurper. He felt that the spice garden could use some Canadian reindeer mulch.

 Alastor couldn’t help but feel he was behind the eight ball thanks to his agreement with the Princess to not lay a finger on any who sought the hotel’s services; however, she even placed the rake next to your room. It seemed like she expected you to show him around and ensure he acclimated to the new environment without issue. To be a friend to this new guest. Was there no end to Charlie’s flagrant disrespect?!

You had had to walk him down to breakfast once because he had gotten “lost” in the hallways and ended up “accidentally” darkening your door asking for assistance. However Alastor knew it was intentional on the misguided reindeer’s part. It was as if James thought he could capture your heart within the span of a five-minute walk to the lobby. Nonsense. But, Alastor noticed how you sported a slight blush when you rejoined the others, with the newest guest in tow by the hand, in response to whatever inane attempt at charm he had thrown your way.

If the flannel fiend wished for a duel, Alastor would gladly oblige.

He had made certain that his precious doe’s hotel door frame was properly marked with scoring from his antlers and his shadow insisted on being posted on guard at night in case of any “lost” reindeer. This didn’t seem to bother you, as your instincts most likely told you to let the males fight it out, so he continued his pissing contest. For instance, no matter where you were, so was Alastor. He continuously shirked his hotel duties in favor of gluing himself to you and if he wasn’t (very publicly) rubbing against your neck or hair to leave traces of his heavy musk, and attempting to jump-start your heat with his pheromones, he was feeding you from the same plate as himself or whispering sweet words into your sensitive ears.

Oh yes, he saw with satisfaction how your ears twitched in contact with his warm breath and how you shivered slightly at his honeyed words of love. He also didn’t miss the glare that the Canadian continuously shot towards him, and aimed a shit-eating grin of his own right back, as you once again unconsciously relaxed into Alastor’s side.

***

Oh yes, The Radio Demon was absolutely certain that HIS doe would choose HIM as the superior mating option like she did every season over the trash that begged for a mere glance from her direction. HE was the one who always provided protection for her during this fragile time. HE always saw to her meals and ensured her nutrition as is the responsibility of the courting male. And HE was the one who you harbored romantic feelings for.

…Those same warm feelings that slept within him as well…

Alastor tried to shut the thought down before his mind strangled itself in a black cloud of doubt. To say that he was wholly unfamiliar with genuine romance, even throughout his many decades in Hell, was an understatement.

He huffed heavily through his nose.

Carmilla better have a good reason for dragging him away from his territory at such a time. As he begrudgingly made his way to the overlord meeting, Couldn't look weak during a season now could he? Alastor reflected on the last time he had allowed his heart to open itself for another long ago. It ended in his technological "friend" nearly voiding him to make a quick buck.

 …Never again…

 It certainly didn’t help his mood that the start of the rut season was ever hot on Alastor’s heels, but he could only wait for his pheromones to trigger his doe’s heat so every second away from you felt frustratingly wasted. He wondered if your body was taking longer than usual in response to the multiple suitors.

…What if she’s with him…

He shook his head as if trying to forcefully repel the vision of you accepting the other male’s advances. Laughing at James’s crude sense of humor turning into allowing him to drift ever closer to you and eventually seizing his chance to- no, his doe would never betray him.

...She's not mine...

It felt like a stone had settled in the pit of Alastor’s stomach at the thought of you being moved even emotionally by another. Ok fine! He was not the most romantically inclined during the rest of the year, but it wasn’t like you weren’t well aware of this relationship's transaction.

…What if she throws me away too?...

Alastor’s grip nearly broke his cane in half, but he didn’t notice in his shock at such an intrusive thought. She’d never reject him. He remembered how it felt like the whole of Hell suddenly stopped spinning the moment he found you hunched and bloody from defending yourself after an entire herd of bucks had stalked and cornered you in an alleyway. He normally never went out during a rut (can’t let anyone see his body’s weakness) but, even from the hotel, he had smelled something too alluring to ignore. A doe in heat.

Alastor thought you were magnificent in your demon form; legs bent like an actual cervid, claws sharp as knives, and covered in the blood of those filthy bucks who tried to take you by force. Even now the image continues to take his breath away.  

…I know her heart needs more…what if I …

No, that is not what this agreement is. You used him and he used you. Just like every other lost soul in Hell, you were leveraging your Satan-given circumstance to better your situation under his powerful allowances. Romance was merely a tool at best and a distraction at worst (Alastor tried to convince himself).

…What if her body chooses the other male’s pheromones…

He stopped dead in his tracks, just a short distance from the Carmine compound, as the surrounding windows shattered, and nearby demons fled from the intensity of his sudden static outburst. He felt his antlers grow and his bones shift in the fury that overcame him at the image of you held under the other man. Keening and gasping James’s name in your desperation to find relief from your heat. A loud snarl escaped him. Dammit! He never should have left her!

…What if his name is on her lips right now??!...

 Alastor had never phased through the shadows so fast in his afterlife.

***

Your POV

The kiss ended as quickly as it had begun once you felt yourself suddenly pulled into a suffocating nothingness, you opened your eyes to see that James was being violently shaken around in the air like a ragdoll. Only then did the blood in your ears stop pounding long enough for you to hear the sharp screeching of a ruined record and the overwhelming sensation of staticky pinpricks uncomfortably all over your body. Your instincts kicked in and you immediately scanned the yard for the cause of the disruption though you already knew its source as Alastor’s shadow was winding around your body protectively, but also in a restraining manner.

Your eyes searched for Alastor and found him, standing in between you and the flailing reindeer, to be almost unrecognizable in the most demonic appearance you have ever seen him and it broke your heart. Shit, he must have seen James kiss you and maybe even heard what you two had discussed. His body was completely stretched out and bent at impossible angles as he laughed manically at his rough treatment of James and snarled wildly, “HOW DARE YOU LAY YOUR FILTHY HANDS ON MY MATE!!!!”.

“ALASTOR! STOP IT!”, you cried out in hopes of capturing his attention away from James, but it seemed as though your voice had only made things worse as Alastor flung his prey high into the air with another laugh before turning his attention towards you.

Heavy footsteps rumbled through the air as Alastor stomped towards you menacingly slow like a predator taking his sweet time in devouring its next meal and you pulled at his shadow with all you were worth to free yourself of its confining hold. “Please wait!”, you pleaded with the Radio Demon (this wasn’t Alastor anymore). Surely he was about to kill you just like every other demon who he felt had crossed him and their screams and lifeless eyes danced in your memory, but, until now, you had never felt fear of the same fate. You knew hot tears were pouring down your cheeks and you tried to look as small as possible as the giant deer finally made his way towards you with the most strained smile you had ever seen split his face. It seemed like the green stitches that lined the smile were about to pop and you saw the black void of The Radio Demon’s eyes that were pinpointed by fastmoving golden dials.

You could only continue to sob and whimper out pleas for your life, quickly losing your voice in desperation, as Alastor kneeled down and bent his neck to look into your eyes before growling fiercely in your face. It wasn’t really understandable, but it sounded like the accusation that you could see in his twisted face and your heart sank even further. Of course, he must be feeling betrayed and angry, however, he also looked a bit…hurt? It was only for a moment but you were sure of what you saw and it made you wonder if this was really because he felt mating competition from the other male. You couldn’t ponder this any further, though, because you were suddenly whisked away from the hold of Alastor’s shadow in a vice of muscled arms, a firm chest, and white fur.

The fuck?!

“GIVE HER BACK TO MEEE!!!!”, Alastor roared so loud that your ears began to bleed and tighten even further against your skull.

You were quickly placed onto the safety of the hotel’s nearby back porch and looked up to your new kidnapper, only for your mind to completely blank as you took in James’s transformed body and the eerily powerful aura that radiated from his very soul. He walked in a circling motion towards Alastor as the two sized each other up. James now had two sets of strong, bent deer-like legs that attached to the abdomen of, what you assumed to be, a huge reindeer. His humanoid torso connected to the deer body and his shoulders to his head was adorned with spikes of thick, black antlers that grew more massive and curved as they reached the crown of his hairline. You recognized this form.

Dude was a freaking cervitaur? Wait…are DxD characters actually real??!

You noticed that thin vines lined his antlers with small, colorful flowers growing on them and that with each powerful step he took new plants sprouted from the contact of his hooves with the ground. James’s expression was marred with a threatening look towards Alastor and he began to kick out his back legs into the dirt as he twisted his, now thicc neck, from side to side in a warning display of his impressive but deadly rack.

The Radio Demon didn’t back down, however, returning the gesture as he coiled his body before both demons sprinted directly at each other as two harsh cervid howls rang out through the air like a thunderclap.

***

I really hope that you liked reading this! I enjoyed focusing on Alastor's side of things and James's demon transformation that is actually inspired by a DxD character. The cervidtaur, though James's powers will differ a bit, I believe that the fight of the next part will show off how awesome of a character design it is. 😊(See the pic below) I think I spent like a week researching reindeer aggression signs and how to write in a dude's pov 😂

Taglist: I hope I did this right!

@Xalygatorx , @songbirdpond , @bitter-rabittt, @sakuraluna2468, @cinnamon-galaxies, @speedycoffeedelight, @diffidentphantom, @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this, @eris-norwega, @anngray1369, @ladyadrasteia666, @wends, @prime-in-time-and-space, @supeersimpeer, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @type-ink, @fantasyhopperhea, @martinys-world, @apad-ravya, @galaxywolf3, @thoughfullovercreator, @Boogiemansbitch, @helluva-simper, @alastorsgirl48, @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog, @need-a-life-or-grass, @michi-keinz, @milkissesx, @ari42, @valerie-is-in-the-cupboard, @lil-glum, @amariskygal, @strawberryoverlord1893, @cherry-cola-100, @noellebellq, @lettuce-frog16, @junieshohoho, @phoephan-123, @dreamraven13

[bellaxgiornata]

Sweet of You

Pairing: Frank Castle x Mom!Reader Word Count: 1.6k [Collection Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: just fluff and a soft dad!Frank

Summary: Waking up in the hospital the morning after giving birth, you find Frank missing from his makeshift bed. But when you learn the reason for his disappearance, you're even more grateful that he's part of your life.

a/n: I've said it before and I'll say it again: I love a soft Frank. Especially a soft dad!Frank. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Collection Tag List: @danzer8705 @glowstick-lesbian @flowher @geminadeckerwritesstuff @shiorimakibawrites @beezusvreeland @ebathory997 @maryyymothhh @4happilyeverafter @sleepysleepymom @kezibear @charmedkim @midnightramble @carolinaxvz @1988-fiend @marcysbear

Sunlight beat against the backs of your eyelids, the brightness of it pulling you straight from sleep. Gradually opening your eyes, you immediately squinted at the warm light shining in through the hospital room’s windows. Blinking hard as you attempted to adjust to the unexpected morning light, you began to wonder exactly when the blinds had been opened; you knew Frank had certainly closed them last night while you’d still been in labor.

The thought of Frank had your eyes shifting away from the windows that overlooked the back of the hospital’s parking lot, your gaze instead lowering to the couch that folded out into a bed. It sat in front of the windows, the blankets a mess from having been tossed to the side. Frank’s pillow was still indented from where he’d been curled up with it last night, but Frank himself was missing from the makeshift bed, no longer buried beneath the blankets. 

A frown settled onto your lips as you carefully pushed yourself upright in the hospital bed, wincing slightly at the soreness in your body as you did. But as you moved, a soft, contented sigh caught your attention, the noise quickly distracting you. 

Your little baby girl was sound asleep in the hospital bassinet next to your bed, her small body bundled neatly in her purple swaddle and matching tiny hat. Her head was turned in your direction, her chest rising and falling with each breath. She looked so peaceful sleeping there–a complete change from the screaming and crying she’d done when she’d first come into the world just a few hours ago.

Staring down at your daughter, who’s mouth you already swore was the same as Frank’s, you found yourself entirely forgetting that he was missing from the hospital room. Instead, you'd become entranced by her tiny little face, watching the faint twitches along her lips as she slept. She was already a perfect mix of you and him.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been lost in thought just staring at the swaddled bundle before you heard the hospital room door open behind you. The noise pulled your attention away from your daughter as you turned around on the bed, expecting to see one of the many nurses coming into your room–because they’d certainly popped in and out of your room plenty of times throughout the night. But instead you spotted Frank carefully closing the door behind himself with his shoulder, a bag in one hand and a drink tray unmistakably holding two coffees in his other. 

“Where'd you go?” you asked.

At the sound of your voice, Frank’s eyes darted up from the drink tray in his hand that he'd been focused on balancing before they landed on you. A small smile pulled at his lips when he saw you sitting there awake before he strode across the room, making his way around your hospital bed as he walked. As you watched him, you saw how his gaze shifted to your sleeping baby girl, noticing how the smile on his face had grown somehow brighter, lighting it up in a way you'd never seen before. Though your stomach growled at the scent of food when he passed by you, and that had your attention switching curiously to the bag in his hand.

“Woke up early. You were still asleep so I thought I'd grab us breakfast,” he told you, placing the coffees and bag onto the little table near your bed. “Figured you deserved somethin’ better than hospital food after what you just went through. And,” he said, pulling one of the massive to-go cups from the drink tray and holding it out to you, “I figured you deserved a large coffee. Know how excited you've been about not needing to watch your caffeine anymore.”

Your eyes lit up at the sight of the coffee cup he held out towards you, your hands already eagerly reaching for it. “You're my hero,” you gushed, accepting the hot cup from his hands. “Forget knights in shining armor or superheroes, all I need is you bringing me coffee.”

He chuckled lightly as he turned and began untying the knot on the bag he'd carried in. As you took a long drink from your cup, relishing the coffee you didn't feel guilty for drinking since you were no longer pregnant, your mind began to race at what might be in the bag.

“Don't know about that, honey,” Frank muttered, undoing the knot. “But I did get you somethin’ else.”

Your eyes narrowed curiously as Frank reached into the bag, pulling out a styrofoam container. He leaned over and set it onto the hospital tray beside your bed before rolling that over closer to you. Setting your coffee onto the tray beside the container, you opened the lid and were hit with the delicious scent of food. 

And then you realized what he'd actually brought you. A vegetable egg benedict that you recognized from the brunch place you both frequented. Your favorite item to order whenever you went there, but something you'd been unable to have despite craving it for nine long months.

Eyes growing wide, your head darted over your shoulder towards Frank. He was grinning proudly back at you.

“You got my favorite from Buttermilk?” you asked in awe.

“Knew how much you've been missing it,” he replied with a shrug. “Figured it'd go perfect with your coffee. You know, now that you don't need to avoid runny yolk, either.”

“Marry me,” you blurted with a straight face.

Frank's grin grew wider. “Thought I was s’posed to be the one asking you that?” he teased. Gesturing a hand at the container of food, he ordered, “Eat. Before it’s cold.”

“Thank you, Frank,” you replied, pushing the button to more comfortably raise your hospital bed upright so you could eat. “This was sweet of you. Now I feel like I owe you.”

“Don't owe me nothin’, sweetheart,” Frank assured you, settling down onto his makeshift bed with his own food. “You and our girl there are all I need. Don't need anything else.”

Pausing with your fork hovering above your food, your gaze returned to him. Frank sat there on the fold out couch staring at your sleeping daughter in the bassinet. The corners of his lips were curled into a warm, gentle smile, one of the rare ones that truly reached his eyes. And his eyes–those soft brown eyes of his that you loved so much–were visibly full of emotion.

Sitting there watching him, your coffee and breakfast both temporarily forgotten, you found yourself growing emotional, too. You damn well knew what that little girl meant to him, long before she'd even taken her first breath in this world. And right now it was written all over his face.

The purple little bundle beside your bed suddenly moved, your little girl gradually beginning to fight against the confines of her swaddle. Her face scrunched up in discontent as she let out a grunt. You reached out to push the hospital tray off to the side, prepared to check her diaper or offer her a bottle, but Frank's soft voice stopped you.

“Don't,” he said. “I got her. Just eat your breakfast.”

Your eyes darted up to Frank, watching as he set his container of breakfast off to the side. He rose to his feet, his eyes on your little newborn as he stepped over to the bassinet. 

“C'mere, baby girl,” he cooed softly, his large hands gently sliding underneath her body. “That's it, I got ya.”

He gradually pulled her up and into his arms, carefully cradling her against his chest. Her tiny eyes slowly blinked open, focusing somewhere near Frank’s chin. The look of discontent she’d had was gone as she continued to quietly stare up at him.

“Had a rough introduction to this world, huh?” he asked her softly, sitting back down on the bed with her. “Don't blame you for crying about it. But let me tell you something. You've got the best mom over there,” he said. Frank glanced up, shooting you a wink that quickly had a warmth spreading through you. “We're both lucky she’s ours.”

Biting back the smile threatening to overtake your face, you focused back down on your container of food. Stabbing your fork into the top of one of the eggs, you watched as the delicious yolk you'd had to avoid for months oozed out over the english muffin beneath it. 

“And I'll tell you somethin’ else, baby girl,” Frank continued on, his voice a soft, soothing rumble as he spoke. “If anyone ever hurts you, I can promise they'll have me to deal with. Especially any future assholes thinkin’ they can take you out.”

Eyes going wide in surprise at what he'd said, your head darted over your shoulder towards him once more. “ Frank !” you scolded, though you couldn't stop the laughter that slipped out of you. 

Frank looked up at you, cocking his head to the side as one of his brows slowly rose up onto his forehead. “What?” he asked. 

You shook your head, trying to stifle your laughter. “She's not even twenty-four hours old,” you pointed out. “Can’t you hold off a little longer before you start threatening her future significant others?”

“Why?” he asked back. 

“Because she's only just a baby and–” you stopped short before shaking your head and focusing back on your breakfast. “You know what? Nevermind,” you said. “But I fear for her future dates because you're probably going to have them pissing their pants.”

“Good,” he stated. “Should be scared. ‘Cause no one's gonna hurt either of my girls. Ever.”

Grinning, you speared a vegetable with your fork before bringing it to your mouth. There wasn't a doubt in your mind that Frank would keep his word, making sure to take damn good care of the both of you for as long as he was a part of your lives.

[wzrd-wheezes]

Coffee, Cake and a Gossip - James Potter x Reader

AN - this is entirely based off of a scenario where my boyfriend took me for coffee and cake so we could gossip.

warnings: mentions of alcohol briefly but that’s about it. james potter loving a gossip

Y/N pushed the scrambled eggs around with her fork as she spoke, her eyes trained on the fading pattern of the plate as the words tumbled out of her mouth.

“-And it’s just like, I don’t know, I don’t know how many more times I have to tell her before it gets through.” she huffed, setting her fork down with a clatter, “I’m sorry. I know you probably don’t want to hear me moaning about my friend drama again.”

James laughed, taking a slurp of coffee from his mug, “You’re not moaning, my love.” he smiled, “You’re just venting and, in the nicest way possible, I am loving the drama.”

Y/N chuckled, looking up for the first time in a good few minutes. James was sat, patient as ever, staring lovingly at her as she recounted the events from the previous night.

“Yeah, I know but it must be getting old now,” she smiled weakly, standing up. She crossed the kitchen to scrape her plate clean before setting it in the sink.

Light on his feet, James appeared behind her, his big arms wrapping around her shoulders, his chin resting on the top of her head. He pressed a kiss to her temple, one hand sliding down to rest on her waist. He pushed the fabric of her pyjama top upwards, forever a fiend for skin on skin contact.

“I have an idea.” he mumbled into her hair.

“Yeah?” Y/N hummed in response, sudsing up the sponge and beginning to wash the pots from that morning’s breakfast.

“How about we go and get ready, then we can drive to a cute little cafe somewhere and we can go for coffee, cake and a gossip.” he spun her around so that she was facing him, taking her soapy hands in his, “Then, you can tell me all about your friend drama because, to be honest, ever since you went out with them last night I’ve been dying to hear about what happened.”

“Really?” Y/N slipped her hands from his and wiped them dry on a tea towel that was tucked into a drawer, “You’re sure that you actually-”

“Baby. I cannot explain to you how much I would love to hear it. Besides, I’m a sucker for a little sweet treat.” He grinned, “Why don’t you go and get ready and I’ll finish cleaning up down here, yeah?”

James drove them to a café on the outskirts of their town. It was a quiet little place where sunlight streamed in through the windows and the walls were adorned with quirky paintings. Y/N went to find a table while James ordered. She found them a spot tucked away in the corner, two overstuffed armchairs and a small table between them.

Their coffee was served in mismatched mugs, steam rising from the surface as James set them down on the scrubbed wooden table. He disappeared for a moment and returned with two large slices of cake.

“I didn’t know which to get so I just got a slice of each and thought we could share.” he explained, hacking into a slice with his fork.

“Good thinking.” Y/N smiled, picking up the hot mug and clasping it in her hands.

“Okay. Coffee and sweet treats acquired… time to gossip.” he wiped the crumbs from his lips and turned to face her properly, giving her his full attention.

“So, obviously I haven’t seen the girls for a while, y’know, with us all working and whatnot,” Y/N began. She picked up a sugar cube from the bowl and dropped into into her coffee with a plop, “And I thought it would be nice for us all to go for a drink somewhere so I booked us in at this cute little wine bar in town.”

“Ooh, was it good? We should go there next date night.”

“It was so good! We get there and we all get our drinks and one of the girls says that Alice is running late and I’m like, ‘okay no worries’,” she stopped for a moment to take a bite of cake before continuing, “And you’ll never guess what…!”

“What?” James leaned forward in anticipation, his elbows resting on his knees.

“She turns up an hour late with Jackson.”

“She never!” James gasped, “But it was girls night!?”

“I know!” Y/N huffed. She swilled the coffee around in her mug before taking a swig.

“Wait.” James held a finger up, “Wasn’t Jackson the one that cheated on her?”

“Yes!”

“Wow.” James let out a bemused laugh, “No wonder you’re annoyed.”

“It’s just so frustrating.” Y/N sighed through a mouthful of spongecake, “No matter how many times we tell her he’s a piece of shit she won’t listen.”

“Well, not everyone can have boyfriends as lovely as yours.” James teased, slipping the last bite of cake onto her plate.

“Very true.”

“So, what did you say to her when Jackson turned up?”. he pressed, his eyes twinkling.

[sanjisboyfie]

day in the life as a strawhat pirate

-> very messy, very cute, very fluffy.

-> i don't think any pronouns are used except for "you" but i had a male reader in mind when i was writing it...SHOUTOUT

you wake up - luffy's foot is in your mouth, but also at the same time, his other foot is wrapped around your legs??? he stretched in his sleep and has trapped you in some very odd body trap...it takes you yelling at him to even wake him up.

sanji is the first to wake up, usually, and when you get to the kitchen the breakfast is waiting for you. now you have to sleepily fight for your share of the food because luffy is hangry (his default mood when he wakes up is hangry because he hasn't eaten yet...since he just woke up...) and then also there are 9 other hands that are fiending for all the dishes on the table.

after surviving a war in the dining room, you hope to take some time to relax. but that doesn't exist on the thousand sunny since chopper and usopp are quick to get into their shenanigans. they call you over, wanting to show you a creation that the sniper made, only for you to get a pie of whip cream to the face. they called you over so that they could prank you and now were rolling on the deck laughing about it.

instead of skewering them alive, you decide to take the peaceful route in going to the bathroom to wash your face off. oh, but franky is already in the bathroom taking his morning shower.

you get a face full of cyborg and a very girlish scream escapes his mouth when he realizes that you are standing at the entrance, watching him sing into the shower bottles - naked and all. he then screams out for how he can get no privacy, but you're just too determined to clean your face of the whip cream that you don't really pay him any mind.

when you get out of the bathroom, now having peace in mind, there is a rabid sanji and zoro fighting each other. they're at each other's throats for whatver reason and when they catch you walking down the hallway, they involve you in their fight...for whatever reason.

they're asking you to take a side, who was right in their idiotic fight, but they're both shouting so loud and at the same time you can't even process what either of them are saying. you can only blanky stare back at them as their huffing and puffying to regain their breaths from their nonstop yelling.

and then their expressions go back to being angry, but not at each other - at you, for seemingly being too neutral and not staking a claim to one of their sides. it's all just their adrenaline ramped up to a thousand (even though it's barely been an hour since they've woken up) and now they're trying to make your reaction the same.

you can only sigh, shoving your palms into their faces, and making them clear a path for you to leave the hallway. this makes their bickering turn back to each other instead, their shouts echoing all over the thousand sunny.

just when you finally think, maybe robin or jinbe could offer you comfort in peace, no! brook and nami are actually fighting about something on deck. as you listen in you hear about how brook is the one stealing their undergarments at night - that's enough for you to step in and deal with the perverted skeleton. a punch to his skull is enough to knock some sense into him (nami laid out a couple of her own on his head before you arrived)

nami thanks you in a sigh of exasperation. she offers you a slice of the tnagerine she had peeled, which she gingerly feeds you when you accept. and her face mimics that of an angel, eyes closed as she smiles kindly at you...before she barks at brook to make up for his odd, perverted actions by playing her her favorite song.

and even though you do enjoy brook's violin playing, that is just not your definition of peace right now. maybe any other day, but just not right now.

so you go below deck and finally find your favorite people: robin and jinbe. you practically collapse on jinbe, murmuring about how tired you were despite the day just starting, and robin laughs at your fatigue. she begins to read aloud for the three of you whilst jinbe's hand comfortingly goes up and down your back. she looks at your figure, observing your peaceful expression, before fluidly going back to reading aloud the history book she picked up.

jinbe is laid out against the cushioned seats so really, he's acting as a big bed for you and you definitely do not pass up the chance to catch a quick cat nap. and hopefully this time when you wake up, your captain's foot won't be in your mouth <3

(tags are platonic - its just to reach the audiences)

[aeonmnei]

i had to share more filipino haji from this 😭

hajime is a tapsilog FIEND. if tapsilog has one million fans he is one of them. if tapsilog has zero fans he is dead. to him it is the MOST balance you can get from a meal, especially for breakfast

indulges in karaoke and line dancing, of course! not very good at line dancing (kinda stiff) but is generally proficient in following everyone else. average at karaoke. isn’t the type of guy to bang on his ukulele and start singing lemonade or something but he gets around the 80 score

WILL court you. insists it’s not– no it’s literally courting. he’s going around giving you gifts and helping your family out (while also giving them gifts, may i add). it’s because he thinks courting is just singing and poems and writing letters…spoiler...it's not

has visions of your wedding, your kids, and the house situation the two of you will have 60 years down the road when you guys sing a duet

so yeah he’s a hopeless romantic. doesn’t seem like the type at all but ohhhhh there are a lot of things about him. every gift he gives you has a secret underlying affectionate meaning (no gift is meaningless with hajime) and will he tell you? probably dies on the inside, but NO he won’t fucking tell you because that ruins the romanticism of it all 🙄 

TSISMOSO OHHHH biggest fattest tsismoso. you cannot tell me that he’s besties with tooru and DOESN’T know the tea. not a gossip mongerer obviously but is nosy in a casual way. knows how to recount everything he just heard and WILL tell you if you mention a person he has dirt on

TANNNNN he’s beautiful he’s golden in the sun

points with his lips…obviously

has a plastic cup in the bathroom that tooru took “back” to the kitchen…darling no…that’s the tabo (and yeah they probably have a bidet but it’s also for the tub)

[cloudlessly-light]

Can you do a hotchniss smut where Emily fake her orgasm because she struggles to finish sometimes and hotch notices so he confronts her about it and they try different positions and stuff

Title: Want your body like a fiend Summary: Aaron is not a quitter, so when Emily has a problem, he’s more than happy to help Word count: 3k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, rough (ish), Aaron is a pleasure dom no one can tell me differently

”Do you want to go to dinner with me?”

That’s how it starts, how they start. It had been years of attraction, years of longing and yearning and then he just asks, like it’s not a big deal. And she couldn’t have been happier about it. With that question everything changes.

“Yes.” She smiles, and it’s big and bright and everything she hadn’t been since Paris. But she was back now and Aaron didn’t want to even think about losing her again.

So they go to dinner and in the beginning it’s tense and awkward, both of them having some trouble letting go of Hotch and Prentiss. But as the night carries on, Aaron relaxes and as he does, Emily does too. By the time dessert is placed on the table they’re teasing and talking, something about being together apart from the team and Quantico enough to let them simply be themselves.

“I had a nice time.” She says as he walks her to her door.

“Me too.” He’s smiling, the smile that makes his dimple show and she resists pressing her finger against it. “Would you like to do this again?”

“I’d love to.” She tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear and then he’s leaning forward and presses a kiss to her cheek. It’s soft and careful and when he pulls back she feels her cheek tingling from where his lips had touched her skin.

“See you at work.” His voice is just above a whisper, low and slightly raspy and she knows she needs to hear it like that again.

“See you tomorrow.” She unlocks her door and when she turns around, he’s smiling at her.

Their second date doesn’t happen until almost two weeks later, work and Jack and life quickly getting in the way. But he surprises her, knocks on her door with a bouquet of flowers and breakfast on a Sunday morning.

“You said that you didn’t have plans.” He offers before she can ask what he’s doing at her doorstep. “And I wanted to surprise you, since our second date has taken a backseat.”

“T-thank you.” She stutters, feeling slightly embarrassed to stand in front of him without make-up in her sweats and a loose shirt.

“You look beautiful.” He says like he can read her mind and she smiles at him. “These are for you.” He hands her the flowers and watches as she takes them, her smile getting even bigger as she smells them.

“How did you know peonies are my favorite?” She looks from the bouquet of white, pink and purple to him and he winks at her.

“That’s for me to know, for now.” He pushes past her and into her kitchen and places the bag he’s carrying onto the counter. “I brought pancakes, coffee and fruit.”

As Emily watches him unpack boxes and carefully places take away cups down she feels her entire body warm. He was it for her, she knew it.

It gets easier after that morning, coffee dates before work and dinners if they aren’t away on cases. And all of a sudden it’s been close to two months and Emily is pressing him back against her front door, her tongue in his mouth and hands grabbing at his clothes.

They had waited, neither of them wanted their first time to be something rushed and tonight it was finally the time. His hands were on her waist, pushing her further into him, fingers moving under her shirt to feel her warm skin against his palms.

“I want you.” He gets out through heated kisses and she nods into a breathless kiss, only pulling back when the need for air becomes too much.

They move to the bedroom, hands roaming and lips searching as clothes fall onto the floor in a mess and when he pushes her against the bed she’s already flushed, her body feeling like it was on fire from him.

“You’re sure right?” He asks, eyes so soft that she wants to look away as he hovers above her. But she doesn’t, instead she cups his cheek as she nods.

“I’m sure.” She pulls him into another kiss as her legs wrap around his hips. His hand moves down her body, his lips move from hers to taste the skin of her neck, his tongue licking a stripe down the column of it and further down until he can lick over her nipple. Her back arches into him, offering more of herself to his searching lips and when his lips wrap around her nipple, she feels two fingers push inside of her and she moans softly.

His groan is muffled against her chest when he feels the heat of her around his fingers. When he curls them his eyes flicker up to her face, watches the way her eyelids drift closed and how her cheeks flush pink. He can feel the want and something they haven’t said out loud yet growing by every second and then she’s pulling him up to kiss him.

“Fuck me.” She whispers against his lips, a smirk on hers and eyes so dark they look black. The sound of her breathless gasp when he pulls his fingers out of her and tastes her makes him rut against her thigh, something close to needy behind the sound.

“Delicious.” He mutters and she arches an eyebrow in return.

“Filthy.” The teasing tone is immediately replaced by another moan when he spreads her legs wide, the tip of his cock hot against her clit. He’s big, pushing inside of her slowly as he keeps his eyes on hers and when his hips are flush against her he swallows down a groan as his forehead leans on her shoulder.

“Jesus Christ, you feel good.” He gets out through clenched teeth as he waits for her to adjust, The second she’s pushing up against him he starts to move, pulling out almost entirely before thrusting forward. The sounds of his name and jumbled moans coming from her only encourage him as he moves with heavy pushes of his hips.

It feels good, it feels so good and Emily is sure that her nails that she’s digging into his sides are breaking skin, but he doesn’t seem to care so she doesn’t either. It feels so good, but it’s not enough and the familiar feeling of stress comes over her out of nowhere. She didn’t think it would with him, didn’t think that she’d get into her own head like she usually did. But it was too late.

She had always had trouble finishing, especially with someone else. She would feel rushed or overthink what was happening and even if she really enjoyed what her partner was doing, more often than not she’d never fall over the edge. It was normal, she knew that, but she hadn’t thought it would happen with Aaron.

But as she lies there she can feel her own mind taking over and she knew that no matter how good it felt she wouldn’t get there. She didn’t really mind, she was used to it being this way, so when she fell back into what she was used to, moaning louder and clenching her muscles as she faked her orgasm she didn’t think much of it. Until she felt Aaron stopping and looking down at her with furrowed eyebrows.

“What was that?” He asked, dark eyes intent on hers.

“What was what?” She offers him a smile that he doesn’t return.

“You just faked it.”

“I-I didn’t” The way her voices raise just slightly in pitch gives her away.

“You did.” He rolls off her and grabs the cover to cover them both before propping his head up on his arm, staying close to her. “Why?”

She sighs heavily, never had anybody noticed, never had she had to tell someone, and of course it would have to be him that noticed. In hindsight she shouldn’t have been surprised, he’s the most perceptive person she’d ever met.

“Sometimes I can’t.” She starts slowly as she looks up at the ceiling. “Sometimes I can’t come and it’s just easier to fake it.”

“Sweetheart,” The nickname makes her relax slightly. “it’s not your job to make me feel good about my sexual performance.”

“But it’s not like I’m not enjoying it!” She huffs in frustration and brushes some hair out of her face. “It feels amazing and yet I just… can’t. Like my body is broken.” When he pulls her into his arms she doesn’t fight it, his lips against her forehead is calming, his even heartbeat soothing. “I just didn’t think this would be a problem with you.”

“I don’t see this as a problem.” His words makes her look up at him with pursed lips. “All this means is that we’ll try different things, and there’s always toys, and it’s our first time sweetheart, it’ll take some time getting to know each other like this.” He smiles at her and she bites her bottom lip to keep her own smile at bay. “Besides, getting to spend time with you, explore every inch of your body, how is that not a win for me?”

When she laughs and swats his chest he rolls her back onto the bed.

“Do you think you can let me do that?” He whispers and when she nods he leans down to stamp a kiss to her lips. “Just promise me that you won’t fake it?”

She looks up at him for a moment, for some reason feeling nervous but in the end she trusts him with everything, including this.

“Okay.”

He kisses her again, kisses her for so long that she forgets about everything that wasn’t him. His hands are slow as they move down her body, caressing skin with teasing touches. By the time he’s moving down the bed, her chest is heaving, her clit pulsing as he slowly kisses from her neck to her chest and further down until he’s between her thighs. But he surprises her, and instead of feeling his tongue against her center, he’s trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her thighs, moving from one to the other.

“Aaron…” She gasps, feeling like she’ll go insane but he shushes her gently.

“Let’s not rush.” He mumbles, his eyes heated and dark and her breathing hitches at the sight.

She isn’t sure how long he spends kissing the sensitive skin of her thighs while his hands are moving over her body, but by the time he’s licking through her, she’s keening and writhing, needing more. His tongue is strong, pushing inside of her and then licking broad stripes through her folds until he’s sucking on her clit.

“Fuck!” Her back arches at the sudden pressure on her clit, the feeling intense. Somewhere through hazy pleasure she can tell that he’s smirking, satisfied with her reaction. But she doesn’t get the chance to give it much thought because his fingers are inside of her, moving, curling, twisting and her entire body reacts to it.

Aaron can feel her start to clench his fingers and he knows that she’s getting close. He focuses on what he’s doing, pushing his fingers against the same spot and sucks and licks over her clit and when smooth thighs start to squeeze around his head he only doubles his effort.

“I- I’m gonna- fuck Aaron, I’m coming!” She cries out as she falls over the edge, muscles tense as she rides out her pleasure. Her body felt like it was weightless, and as she starts to come down from her high, she can feel Aaron kiss slowly up her body. The laugh that erupts from her is unexpected, and the second he’s face to face with her again she pulls him into a kiss.

“Thank you.” She mumbles against his lips and he only smiles, something predatory in his eyes.

“That was one, let’s see if we can get you to two.” He flips her around and then takes a pillow and pushes it underneath her hips. “What do you like?” His voice is low as he leans over her back, lips by her ear and she shivers.

“Don’t be afraid to get rough.” She turns her head to look at him and he smirks.

“What else?” He licks along her spine and she gasps at the heat of him against her.

“I’ve never come without clit stimulation.” Her hips push back against his and when the hot smear of him stains her thigh she swallows down a moan. “A-and talking helps.”

“Dirty talk?” He rubs his cock through her folds and waits for her answer.

“Yeah, especially your voice.” Her cheeks burn from her admission and she’s happy that he can’t see her face.

“My voice huh?” He grabs her hip with one hand, keeping her still as he slowly pushes forward. “Good to know.”

“Oh my God.” She whimpers, the breathy sounds quickly turning into louder moans when he immediately sets a fast pace behind her.

“Fuck you feel good.” He straddles the back of her thighs and leans back over her as he mutters against the back of her ear. “Like you were made for me, perfect for me. My perfect thing.”

She bites down on her own hand to keep the wanton moan from erupting, something about his voice and his possessiveness driving her wild. She pushes her hip back against him, the groans coming making her flush with want.

They stay like that, Aaron grunting filth in her ear as Emily moans and whimpers, but he can tell that it isn’t enough, even when he gets his hand underneath her to toy with her clit. But he lets her take charge, enjoys the way she feels, the softness of her skin, the taste of sweat on her body until he can tell she’s getting frustrated and he slows.

“Can I ride you?” She asks, voice close to desperate and he growls at the sound. He lays on his back and watches with heated eyes as she moves to straddle him.

“You look so good like this.” He marvels at the sight of her above him, his hands landing on her waist as she sinks down on him with a low gasp. She supports herself on his chest, her nails digging into him as she starts moving. He watches her for a while, enjoys the way her tight walls cling to his shaft and the visual of Emily riding him. Then he bends his legs and starts to push up against her and she whines at the sudden movement.

“A-again.” She begs as she leans back, one hand supporting herself on his thigh while the other moves down to rub her clit. He takes notice of how she does it, stores that information for later and continues to thrust up into her. He moves one hand to her chest, pulls one nipple and then moves to the other when she nods.

“God you’re gorgeous, soaking my lap.” His words make her hips buckle and her hand speed up between her legs.

“C-close.” The heat in her stomach was building, her body chasing her release and if she wasn’t so focused on the way he made her feel she would have been astounded that she was close to coming for a second time, something that had never happened to her before.

“Do it, come for me.” He grits out as she start to spasm on top of him, jaw slacked and eyes rolling back in her head. She grunts as she comes, her fingers rubbing quickly and Aaron moving underneath her keeping her from coming down completely until she slumps in blissful exhaustion.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe that just happened.” She smiles lazily and doesn’t stop him when he lays her back on the bed on her side. When he spoons her from behind she sighs happily, her leg coming to rest over his hip as she slides back inside of her.

“How does that feel?” He husks against her neck, one arm sneaking underneath her to cup her breast while the other hand grips her thigh.

“So good, you feel so good.” She mumbles as her own hand moving to gently grasp at his neck, her fingers pulling on his hair. “Keep going.”

Aaron bit down on the back of her shoulder as he started to pump his hips against hers. He’s getting close to his own orgasm, can feel it growing by every thrust and when Emily squeezes around him he knows she can tell.

“I want you to come inside of me.” She turns just enough to kiss him, her tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “I want to feel all of it.”

“Fuck Em.” He grabs her harder, keeps her tight against him as he ruts against her, his movements becoming sloppy. “I’m going to make you come every which way, going to make you come until you’re begging me to stop.” The words are mumbles and hushed, words he wasn’t even sure he was saying falling from his lips as Emily let out needy whimpers and moans.

She feels him stilling behind her not much later, the sound of her name muffled against her neck as he bites a bruise into her skin, the heat of his release inside of her soon making her squirm. Only when his grip on her loosened did she turn, breathless and dazed as he hugged her close to his chest.

 “Was that too much?” He asks after their breathing had returned to normal, Emily drawing random patterns on his chest as he slowly stroked her back.

“No, it was amazing.” She lifted her head and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“And tonight was just the beginning.” He grabbed the back of her neck to keep her from pulling away. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

[dxndjxrin]

Seventeen, Performance Unit: how they’d eat you out

Hello I’m back with another set for this little :) been a minute, but I’m getting back in my writing groove. If you enjoyed, pls check out my AO3 linked in my masterlist, and the other versions of this series <3

Vocal unit ver.

NSFW under the cut. 18+ only!!

Hoshi: buckle in and get ready for the ride of your life. Soonyoung IS gonna worship the ground you walk on, therefore he IS worshiping your pussy. He’s not stopping if you just cum once (unless you want to ofc), but it’s a whole ordeal and he loves it like that. When he can have some uninterrupted time with you, he wants to really focus on you because he just loves you so fucking much (and is also obsessed with seeing you cum). Honestly sometimes you have to check in on him to see if he’s still down to earth, man gets lost in the sauce but he lives for it.

Jun: y’all see that clip from his drama where he’s like “I’m hungry, but I don’t want breakfast, I want to eat.” That’s what he’s gonna do. Man is a pussy eating fiend. It’s messy, he has to hold your hips down to keep you from writhing everywhere, and he just gets into this trance of you. Your scent and taste, the noises you make. Jun’s obsessed w/eating u out, one of his favorite things to do. At this point he can sense when you want it too. He sees you get antsy, touchy with him, squeezing your thighs together and he’ll just put a gentle hand on your thigh to part them and say “oh baby, all u have to do is ask.”

Minghao: bro is elegant, majestic, and somehow he eats pussy like it too? He likes to warm you up for it though. Starts just by touching and touching and kissing, and finally when you have your clothes off and you think he’s gonna just dive in, no. He’s got patience too, he’ll go as slow as he damn pleases to just watch you lose your mind over him. He knows you like his hands too, so they’ll wander; his fingers will play with your clit a little if he takes a second to talk to you, they’ll grab at your chest, waist, hips, anywhere, which just increases the stimulation and the way he’s got you drowning in him.

Dino: Dear Channie is so eager to please. The first few times he’s not all that experienced, and although you assure him that you still enjoyed it, he is DETERMINED to get better and make you lose your mind. He gets competitive with himself kinda; he listens to all of your queues and anything you verbally tell him as well. He even asks Soonyoung (a little embarrassingly) for any tips but his hyung is MORE than happy to provide his wealth of knowledge. Once he puts that to practice, and you react oh so well, he gets confident. When he gets confident, he starts to get mouthy with you. “Oh, you liked that didn’t you? There you go sweet baby.” Like DAMN.

Divider by @cafekitsune

[howlingday]

Ruby, up and coming hero blessed with the Silver Eyes, has heard terrible news! A horrible fiend has invaded the lands! A demon, hailing from a long and cursed line, master of sorcery and steel, a silver tongued trickster, a slave master, a depraved incubus, foul crafts hiding under welcoming illusions, a keen mind of gears and schemes and plots within plots, stronger than iron and quicker than quicksilver, all this and more, has taken control of an abandoned fortress! Determined to boldly rid the lands of this foul taint, (and to prove to Yang she’s a big girl!) she sets off to confront the monster alone! (Bad girl! That’s the first rule of adventuring: don’t go it solo!)

Except, no???????? Jaune has never seen or heard of any ‘demon’ around here. He just moved in, trying to strike out on his own, but nothing seems to be cursed from what he can see. He seems nice enough too. He’s fixing up the old ruin, disabling traps, healing folks when they wander into his place, and all that. Strong, smart, endlessly kind. Talks about his family a lot, they look so happy in the photo. That crest looks familiar, but it’s probably nothing. Surely he’s not the monster, but she can sure use his help to slay the monster when she finds him!

You see, the Arcs are only labeled villains because they refused to kowtow to the government way back when. Their views on life, other races, virtues, and such also puts them at odds with the narrative. The Arcs also have higher standards before they allow their kids to go on adventures, so even the weakest is very strong even to other adventurers. Slightly inspired by the Mind Reaver comic strips by Edd Lai.

So, I decided to have a look into Mind Reaver by Edd Lai, and I have to say I love the idea. A Mind Flayer that's actually a good guy and helps people who wander into his house. It's cute, especially when his niece and... servant, I think? Anyway, it's all so cute, and I highly recommend y'all check it out. Anyway, on to the story.

===========================

WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE

JAUNE "SALEM'S PALADIN" ARC

REWARD ON APREHENSION

===========================

Ruby looked down at the wanted poster in her hand, carefully examining the features in the mugshot. She'd heard many stories about the Arc family, though much of it was told in the darkest of night as a warning to not stray too far from home, or to not stay up too late, or to file your taxes on time. His jawline was coated in thick hair, and his blue eyes gazed death into the soul of those who view them. There were many other tales, too, like how he'd sway any woman into being his slave, take cannon fire with his bare body, and would even subject whole armies with his sorceries.

Ruby looked up from the poster to see the baby-faced man sitting across from her at the table. She'd found him, demanding to engage in honorable combat between warriors! His response was, "Can we get coffee first?" Ruby agreed and watched as he sipped from his mug after waiting for to cool.

"Ooh!" He winced. "Still kinda hot."

"Uh..."

"Oh, sorry!" He then handed her a napkin. "I think I forgot to split our share."

"No, you already did." Ruby shook her head. "Besides, there's more important stuff going on here!"

"More important how?"

"I mean like this!" She slapped the wanted poster onto the table, earning a groan from him.

"Not another one." He shook his head. "Can we finish our coffee first?"

"I... I guess?" Ruby shrugged. "But why aren't you all... Y'know, big and scary and trying to mind-break me?"

"...Because I can't?" He asked more than he said. He then took the poster in his massive, clawed hands. Each finger was about the size of a breakfast sausage. "I really wish they would get a new picture. They make me look like a monster in this."

"Aren't you?" Ruby asked.

"Half." He answered. "Well, kinda sorta. You see, my great-great-great-"

Ruby whirled her fingers in a wheel as he rounded off each great in his ancestor's name. She'd heard a lot of tales about monsters and humans and faunus getting together, except for the Grimm, who were mindless beasts of destruction. What usually came from these unions was either monster or human or faunus, but on rare occasions, half-monsters would be born. These creatures were then cast out of the village upon their discovery, usually ending with their own demise. It was sad and cruel, but terribly not uncommon.

"-great-grandma Salem, the mother of all Grimm."

"Wait, I thought Grimm couldn't reproduce."

"They can't, but she can. Or could, since she hasn't had any kids since The Great Tear." Open in dimensions from a huge magical clash, brought monsters into Remnant, new age of war, magic, and adventure for everyone. Ruby knew it well enough from the stories. "Ooh! Still hot." He chuckled, after wincing from another sip of hot coffee.

"Okay, so then why is everyone after you? Half-monsters don't usually have posters, unless they commit a crime."

"Well, I didn't."

"You didn't?"

"He did." Ruby whirled in her seat to find a young woman standing in the doorway to the coffee shop. She stepped in with guards trailing behind her, all heavily armored, while she herself wore an elegant officer's jacket. "Jaune Arc, I am placing you under arrest in the name of the Schnee Dust Queendom."

"What did I do?" Jaune asked.

"Yeah, what did he do?" Ruby asked.

Snapping her fingers, a heavy, white book was brought to her hands. Opening it, the pages fluttered until they landed on a pair of pages with Jaune's name and mugshot on them. Clearing her throat, she began.

"Corrupting the minds of the youth."

"Hey, Mr. Whitley asked me to tutor him!"

"Silence!" She barked, her face growing a bit red. "Seducing a high ranking officer of the Schnee Dust Queendom."

"Your mother was a nice woman! She kissed me first!"

"I said shut up!" Her face grew even more red. "And public indecency while resisting Queendom duties."

"You fired a cannon at me!"

"And stripped yourself bare in an attempt to intimidate us."

"MY CLOTHES WERE BURNED OFF!"

"AND I SAID SHUT UP!" Face completely red, she tossed the book behind her in a fury. "You will surrender yourself at once, Salem's Paladin!"

"Oh, come- I don't even know Salem!" He defended. "I've never even met my great-great-great-great-"

"Great." Ruby groaned. "You got him started again."

"And who are you?"

"Ruby Rose, bounty hunter." She smiled. "Who are you?"

"Queen-Heiress-Apparent Weiss Schnee," she huffed, "and I'm taking this criminal in."

"Nuh-uh."

"What do you mean, 'nuh-uh'?"

"I mean nuh-uh."

"-great-great-great-grandma Salem!"

"Did you add two greats on there?" Ruby asked.

"Enough!" Weiss snarled. "You are both being brought into custody!"

"Aw, really? But couldn't we have... coffee?" Ruby winked at Jaune.

"No, we can't." Weiss answered.

"Jaune!" Ruby whined. "You were supposed to throw coffee on her!"

"Excuse me?!" Weiss screeched.

"Yeah, excuse you?!" Jaune reeled back. "Why would I do that?!"

"Because it'd be totally cool, like in an action comic!" Ruby reasoned.

"But it would hurt her!"

"THAT'S THE POINT!"

"ENOUGH!"

The cafe rumbled as white circles covered the walls and floors. An angry Schnee huffed in and out of her nose as she pulled out her rapier. Behind her, soldiers readied their guns on the two. Ruby glanced to Jaune, who gulped at the sight. Looks like she was going to do this alone.

"Are you sure you don't want coffee? It's really good~!" Ruby sang.

"Oh, please," Weiss rolled her eyes, "do you really think you can throw coffee on me now that I'm aware that's your- ARGH! BIG NICHOLAS FUCK!" She held her face as very, very, very, very, very warm coffee splashed onto her face.

Ruby took the cue and grabbed Jaune. Together, the two weaved through gunfire as yellow and red petals fluttered to the floor. The two had successfully made their escape, and it seemed the soldiers inside were easily distracted, too, as they began barking orders at one another. One of them actually barked like a dog, too, which was weird.

"AFTER THEM!" The barking died as the Schnee roared over them all.

Weiss used a blanket of napkins to wrap around ice dust and held it to her face. One guard remained behind, holding her book. Through her anger, she gave him an order that would turn the world upside down for Ruby and Jaune.

"I want wanted posters in every kingdom," she seethed, "and I want that Demon Couple locked up YESTERDAY!"

[karniss-bg3]

The cult of the absolute doesn't strike me as necessarily caring about the quality of life of its followers given they can just-- brain wash them into thinking it's the best. What kind of living situation do you think Kar'niss was put into? After all-- they made an ogre stay in the same rooms as other races.

Without a doubt, the Absolute are dogshit at cultist accommodations. If they had a Yelp page it'd be one stars down the line. Although I hear the continental breakfasts have their perks; If you don't mind tadpoles in your oatmeal, that is.

When it comes to our dear baby boy I fear he may have it the worst out of anyone, or the best depending on how you look at it. I don't believe he lives at the tower full time. Driders are bloodthirsty and are required to consume blood at least every four days, otherwise their bodies begin to break down and they can die. Unless Ketheric Thorm had a steady system to meet these dietary needs it would require Kar'niss to go out on the hunt for meals. And if there is one thing driders are biologically wired to do, it's hunt...and often.

I believe Kar'niss spends most of his time at the camp where you first encounter him.

This area is large enough to handle his size and secluded enough to where he's rarely bothered. Stationed so close to the mountain pass it also affords him the jump on any foolish enough to enter the Shadowlands. If you enter through the doorway at the back you also find a lot of evidence that this could be his primary feeding nest.

Bloody drag marks, bodies in trees and rock faces and skeletal remains piling up in the cavern below, it's the perfect spot for a hungry drider to enjoy his meal in peace. He likely drags his victims to the tree, drinks them dry and discards the remains for scavengers or fiends to clean up.

I also believe this is the real reason he was given the moon lantern. Not because the Absolute actually favored him, but because out of anyone he would be required to venture into the Shadowlands most often. This elected him as the impromptu guide for any True Souls that wandered to Moonrise.

As for where he sleeps, I doubt he does much if at all. Drow only require four hours of rest with their trance ability, and Kar'niss is still labeled as a drow in his profile. Rest wouldn't come easy to him with so many voices bombarding his mind, vying for attention. So when he's not being tasked by the Absolute to act as a guide or some other side venture, he's either hunting or looming at the top of Moonrise tower to be closer to "Majesty". I have an idea as to how Kar'niss became so thoroughly mind fucked by them, but that's for another post.

If he does stay at the tower primarily it would be just as lonely as the pseudo campsite. Kar'niss is the Ned Flanders of the Absolute (with more murder), and everyone else is Reverend Lovejoy. Sure, they believe and follow faithfully, but Kar'niss is a bit too extra even for them. His constant ramblings, his fanatic devotion and how temperamental he can be make him an unpopular option to hang around. He's likely dismissed or outright ignored. In fact now that I think about it, I don't think a single NPC addresses him by name. The guard at Moonrise calls him 'drider' and that's it. Perhaps Minthara does but I can't recall to save my life. Sad.

Overall I think regardless of where he chooses to hang his web, it's a very isolated existence. The Absolute don't care about him, non-cultists don't care about him, and he has an invisible timer ticking down toward his expiration date. The poor creature is simply too brainwashed and broken to know it.

Thanks for the ask!

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 17: "Bridging the Distance"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 3.8k

a/n: This installment is mostly some sweet fluff, but there's a bit of angst, because this is ATY and there's still that physical distance between these two. Enjoy some charming Matty though! Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine @harperdoodle @hollandorks @mattmurdocksstarlight @yeonalie

Taking a sip of coffee from the mug in your hand, you shuffled through your kitchen and over to your fridge, pulling the door open. You stood there for a moment, eyeing the contents of what was inside and trying to decide on what to make for breakfast. Eventually your eyes landed on the carton of eggs on the top shelf and you grabbed them before sluggishly making your way over to the kitchen counter. 

You set your coffee mug and the eggs down beside your phone before bending over and pulling out a pan from the cabinet below you. As you made your way over to the stove, you heard the telltale vibration of your phone receiving a text coming from behind you. An excited buzz of nerves struck you as you hurriedly set the pan down on the stove top before turning back around. You rushed back over to your phone, desperately hoping the text message you'd just received was from who you thought it was from. When you opened the notification on your screen, your face only further lit up at the sight of Matt's name. 

It was exactly who you'd hoped had messaged you this morning.

It had been a couple of weeks since Karen had left after her week-long stay with you. Ever since that first text Matt had sent when Karen had left for the airport, he had been texting you more frequently. He often sent you messages on and off throughout the week, but on Saturday and Sunday mornings he had started sending you a text around the time he’d come to learn you woke up at. And every weekend morning now you had come to look forward to that text of his greeting you for the day. Usually you’d both message each other on and off as the day wore on, clearly wanting to feel connected to each other despite the physical distance.

You'd inevitably begun looking forward to your weekends even more ever since this had started. 

Though you didn't exactly know what any of it meant. You'd both confessed feelings for each other months ago now, and while that hadn't been discussed yet, it seemed like he still felt the same way. As did you. You weren't sure what to make of that, especially being on the opposite side of the country from him now. 

But for the moment, you pushed those thoughts to the side. All you wanted to do was bask in that giddy feeling because Matt had yet again texted you. Because he was still thinking of you.

8:35 AM  MATT: Good morning, sweetheart. I hope the weather by you is vastly warmer than it is here. It's snowing again. Temperature is in the single digits.

You internally melted at the term of endearment he'd once again slipped in. On occasion he'd seemed to work that into the texts more and more frequently you’d noticed. As you reread the message, you imagined him making a coffee in his apartment, dictating the text to his phone as he hovered around his laptop working on something for the law firm. Possibly with a smile on his face as he thought about you. 

Grinning yourself, you were quick to type up a response to his message.

8:36 AM  It's going to be sunny and sixty degrees here today. Far better than snow.

Still smiling to yourself, you set your phone back down and reached up into another cabinet. You pulled down a bowl and began to crack a couple of eggs into it, washing your hands in the sink afterwards. Pulling out a fork from a nearby drawer to whisk them together for some scrambled eggs, you heard the buzz of your phone come minutes later on the counter beside you. Immediately you dropped the fork and picked up your phone, eager to read Matt’s next text. 

8:42 AM  MATT: Sounds like a perfect day. Maybe if you come back to visit Hell’s Kitchen you can bring that warmth and sunshine with you. 

Before you had a chance to even respond to that message, you saw another text from him come through.

8:42 AM  MATT: Though if I'm being honest, you always brought warmth and light to my life without the help of LA.

For a moment all you could do was stare at his last text, your jaw dropping as you reread it over and over. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, the feeling of those nervous butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Your fingers hovered over your phone as you tried to think of a way to reciprocate the sentiment back to Matt, but you were so stunned that you were drawing a blank. You were not remotely as smooth as he was.

Something that had quickly surprised you over your texting back and forth with Matt these past couple of weeks was how incredibly sweet he had been. He had always been a good friend to you–outside of the big lie about him being dead when he wasn’t, which was meant to protect you, and anything involving Elektra. He’d often said nice things to you over the years that you assumed were never meant as anything more than friendly. But now you’d often found him being charming towards you. And it only made you want him physically here with you even more despite how incredibly nervous you would feel with him saying these things to your face.

Drawn out of your thoughts by the vibrating of your phone in your hand, you saw that Matt was actually calling you now. Your eyes widened in shock–besides the two video calls with Karen the other week, neither of you had talked on the phone in months. He’d always only sent texts. Why was he calling you now? 

For a moment all you could do was stare at his name on your screen and internally panic, but then you reminded yourself that if you didn’t answer, you wouldn’t get to talk to him. Nervously you swiped your finger across the screen, answering the call before you lost it. Holding the phone up to your ear, you did your best to push down your nerves.

"Hey, Matty," you greeted him shyly. "What's–what’s going on?"

"Hey, sweetheart," he greeted warmly, your stomach somersaulting at his voice and that term again. "I just figured I'd call and see if you'd rather chat this way. Dictating texts is a little difficult for me. And also, if I’m being honest, I missed hearing your voice.”

Heat crept into your cheeks, your lip slipping between your teeth as you tried to fight back the giant, stupid grin forming on your face. He’d missed hearing your voice? He was too smooth, it truly wasn’t fair.

“I uh, I missed hearing your voice, too,” you admitted, trying to sound bolder than you felt.

Because honestly, it was hard to feel bold with Matt. The thought of flirting with him still had your stomach nervously twisting into knots and your palms sweating. The times you’d been interested in literally anyone else, you were able to at least moderately navigate your way through a few flirtatious comments. But with Matthew Murdock? In a situation outside of just being friendly with him? It was a miracle you could even breathe while you talked to him. Flirting was something you couldn’t fathom succeeding at when it came to him.

"How's your morning coming along?" he asked.

"Good," you replied. Shouldering your phone, you continued to work on making your breakfast, trying to ignore the nervous trembling of your hands. "I'm just waking up and making some eggs. How's your morning, Matty?"

"Cold," he answered with a chuckle. "You know I’ve always hated winter.”

You laughed lightly, remembering every single time Matt used to complain about walking around on campus when it snowed. Foggy used to tease him about it whenever you met up with them to go to the dining hall or to the bar near campus. 

“Is the cold that much worse with your senses?” you asked him curiously, heading towards the frying pan and getting it ready. “I guess I never thought about that.”

“I don’t quite remember what the winters felt like before my senses became what they are,” Matt told you. “That was far too long ago to recall something that particular. But I do feel like it’s vastly more uncomfortable for me than it is for others, considering I’m more sensitive to minor temperature differences.”

“Mmm, true,” you mused, grabbing the bowl of eggs from the counter and bringing it over to the pan. “Suppose you need to bundle up and bury yourself in a pile of blankets more than others do in the winter.”

Matt hummed out a noise over the phone that almost sounded like a throaty purr. It had the hair along your forearms raising and your eyes momentarily closing. You’d almost poured the eggs out of the bowl and onto your stove top instead of into the pan with the effect it had on you, the noise rumbling directly into your ear. Eyelids fluttering back open to pay attention to the breakfast you were making, you were grateful Matt wasn’t here to pick up on anything your body was doing just now. Especially with what he said next.

“I’d much prefer to curl up with you to keep warm,” he said, tone teasing.

Your mouth fell open as you straightened in surprise at the implication of his words, a tiny surprised gasp slipping out of you. Had he meant something innocent by that? Because with Matt and his history of women, you had a feeling he might not have.

Unfortunately in your shock, your phone had slipped off of your shoulder and began its inevitable descent to the floor. With a yelp, you rushed to set the empty bowl still in your hands onto the counter beside the stove as your phone clattered loudly to the floor. Swiftly bending over and picking it back up, you held it back beside your ear. Instantly you were hit with the resonate sound of Matt’s amused laughter and you flushed.

“Don’t laugh at me, Matt,” you pouted.

You grabbed a spatula out of a nearby drawer, focusing on cooking the eggs in the pan. Over the line, Matt was clearly trying to fight down his laughter. Your cheeks only further flamed in embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, a smile apparent in his tone. “I’ve just never had the opportunity to flirt with you–and believe me I’ve always wanted to,” he confessed. “But I wasn’t expecting it to fluster you so easily. Truly makes me wish I wasn’t missing out on all of your reactions to me right now.”

“I’m sort of glad you are,” you grumbled. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I think it’s cute,” he countered. “I've always thought you were cute.”

You frowned, your eyes glued to the eggs cooking in the pan before you. He thought you were cute ? You'd always wanted him to think you were far more than that. Frustratedly you poked at the eggs, scrambling them further in your silence.

“Did I…say the wrong thing?” Matt asked hesitantly when you didn’t respond.

“It’s nothing,” you muttered.

“Okay,” he said slowly, “Well, I know I can’t hear your heartbeat over the phone–my ears unfortunately aren’t that good–but I can still tell that was a lie. What’s wrong? Am I not allowed to say things like that?”

You sighed, running a hand across your forehead. Truthfully it seemed ridiculous to be upset about Matt calling you cute. He’d never said that before. It should have given you some warm, fuzzy feelings in return, but in reality, it had only made your heart drop into your stomach. And the reasoning felt stupid. But still, you felt how you felt and you couldn’t control that.

Matt said your name over the line, concern in his voice. “Can you talk to me?” he asked, almost pleadingly. “I’m sorry if I said something out of line, I can–can stop flirting if you want.”

“No!” you replied instantly, wincing at how desperate and pathetic you sounded. 

“Well, I can’t read minds,” Matt stated. “I need a little help here, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”

“I just–” you broke off, feeling awkward as you tried to figure out how to word what you were feeling. “I’ve had feelings for you for a long time, Matt,” you eventually began. “And I’ve–I’ve had to watch you with countless women.” You paused, inhaling a deep breath as Matt remained silent on the line while you spoke. “And for years all I wanted was for you to see me as something other than your friend. To, you know, be attracted to me,” you confessed shyly, embarrassment flooding you. “And I just–I don’t–” you fumbled for words, “–don’t want to just be cute to you. Puppies are cute. I don’t want to be on par with puppies, Matt.”

Matt said your name lightly, a small chuckle coming from him when you’d finished. Frowning at his response, you roughly scrambled the eggs in the pan even more.

“I assure you, you’re far from being on par with a puppy to me,” he told you. “I find you very attractive. And I do, in fact, find you sexy.”

Your eyes went wide and you immediately froze at his words. You had not been expecting him to say that.

“Please don’t drop the phone this time, either,” he continued cheekily, a smile once again apparent in his tone. “Because I want to make sure you hear me. I’ve wanted you for a long time. Longer than you even knew I existed. And I think you’re adorable when you get flustered or when you crack a joke. But I also think you’re beautiful. And incredibly sexy. Do you know how many times I had to refrain from making a move on you over the years?” he asked. “How many times we’d gone to that bar by campus and I had to hear the way your body moved when you drank enough to actually dance and I had to fight to keep my hands to myself? Or how many times I'd wanted to grab you and kiss you all those Saturday nights when Foggy fell asleep and it was just you and I on my bed?"

Your breath felt like it was coming in sharp and shallow. Because no, you did not know any of that.

"I–I had no idea," you answered breathily. 

"I have wanted you in more ways than one for years," he admitted softly. 

You felt dizzy at his admission as you reached out a hand to turn off the burner, your eggs finally finished cooking. Exhaling a long breath, you turned and leaned against the kitchen counter, a hand landing on your chest just over your racing heart.

For years that was all you'd wanted to hear from Matt. You’d always wanted to hear that he had feelings for you. That he wanted you. That he’d felt all these things for you all those times you were feeling them for him. And now here he was saying everything you'd ever wanted, but he was all the way on the other side of the country. He was over two thousand miles away. This was not the way you'd always pictured this happening–over the phone and with him out of reach.

"Matt," you whispered, feeling tears abruptly stinging at your eyes. "What are we doing?"

You heard his heavy sigh loud over the phone. The sound didn't help alleviate the burn of tears welling in your eyes.

"What do you mean exactly?" he asked.

"I mean," you began, wiping a hand at your watery eyes, "we–we care about each other. That's been established. But Matt, you're in New York and I'm in LA. Why are you always texting me? Calling me now because you miss the sound of my voice? Why are you flirting with me? What's the point of it all?"

"The point is that I'd like to give things a chance between us," he answered earnestly. "I have wanted you for so long. Literal years . I don't want to lose you. I–I can’t,” he said, his voice breaking on his words. “I can’t just ignore these feelings I have for you anymore. They won’t go away, no matter how far you are from me. Especially now that I know you feel the same. So I'm open to seeing if–if things could work. If you want that, too?" he asked nervously.

"But what about the distance, Matt?" you asked back.

"I'm hoping things will calm down at the firm in a few weeks," he told you. "I've been looking into flights and planning things with Fog so that he will be fine without me when I leave for a bit. I wanted to come out and visit you.” He paused, nervously adding, “If you still wanted me to, of course."

Your eyebrows shot up onto your forehead in surprise. Matt wanted to come out to LA? For you ? He'd been making plans to do that already? 

"I–I would love you to come visit," you replied immediately, still stunned. "Of course I would, Matty. But I–I thought you'd never left Hell’s Kitchen before? I thought you said you never would?"

"I haven't," he said. "And I have said that. But I'd leave it to come see you."

"But–but what about what you do at night?" you asked. "I thought you refused to leave the city unprotected?"

"It'll be fine without me for a few days," he assured you. "There’s others here who can look after it for just a few days. I want to come see you. I just wish I was capable of heading out there sooner, but I can probably work on maneuvering my schedule around in the future so that I can occasionally make time to come visit you out there." He laughed lightly over the line. "I suppose that’s the bonus of working for yourself."

Running a hand through your hair, you nervously gnawed on your lip. There was something you hadn't told him yet because you hadn’t finalized things, but now felt like a good time to bring it up.

"I–I was planning a trip soon, too," you confessed. 

"You were?" he asked, his tone full of restrained excitement which had you smiling. "When? You never told me that."

"Well I need to finish out the rest of this month at work because there's a lot going on now that it's the end of the year," you explained. "But some of my time off is rolling over to next year and I was thinking about taking a few days off for a longer weekend in Hell’s Kitchen. I'd briefly mentioned it to Karen, but since it wasn't a definite thing yet I hadn't mentioned it to you or Fog."

"So I might see you in a few weeks?" he asked, that excitement creeping further into his voice.

"Yeah, maybe," you answered, your smile growing. 

"Can I take you to dinner?" he asked immediately. "Or lunch? Or–or out for coffee? Or all of the above?"

You couldn’t fight the giggle that escaped you. He'd sounded so eager to take you out already. You'd never heard him like that with anyone before, not even Elektra. And you'd certainly never had someone so excited to take you out before, either. 

"I'd like that, Matt," you told him. “I still need to finalize everything with my boss first. Make sure they can spare me for a few days in January. And as much as I want to see Karen and Foggy, I’d…really like some time with you, too.”

“I want that, too,” he assured you. “I want to take you out. And I mean that as in a date. Just so–so we’re clear this time. Unlike the time I tried to ask you out before in unclear terms the night you came to my dorm. I’m not letting that happen again.”

You laughed, unable to help yourself. Matt’s own laughter soon joined yours, the sound filling you with so much joy. You wished he was standing beside you right now so you would be able to see the bright smile that was surely lighting up his face at the moment. 

You definitely missed him.

Eventually the laughter slowly subsided between the pair of you, your eyes gradually glancing back at the pan on your stove. Your breakfast was now most likely cold, but truthfully you didn’t care.

“I should let you have your breakfast,” Matt said, almost as if he was reading your mind. “I’ve got to finish some things for Fog before he gets mad at me. I promised they’d be done before this afternoon and I’m admittedly running out of time. I just really wanted to talk to you. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” you whispered, wishing he didn’t have to go already.

“Maybe I’ll call you later tonight?” he asked hopefully. “Or tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you told him, a small smile on your lips.

“Great,” he replied. “So I’ll talk to you later, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to you later, Matty,” you told him.

Both of you hung up and for a long moment afterwards you just stared at your phone, your shoulders sagging. You were torn between feeling excited at the prospect of an actual date with Matt coming up in a few weeks, and that sad, lonely feeling that hit you like a ton of bricks the moment you’d hung up. You wished he was here.

Ignoring your pan of eggs for a moment, you set your phone onto the kitchen counter before you turned, exiting the kitchen. You made your way down the hall and towards your bedroom. Heading straight to your dresser, you opened the top left drawer and reached inside. Your hands landed on the lone shirt of Matt’s that you’d taken from his place so long ago, back when you were paying his bills hoping he wasn’t dead. You’d never given it back to him, too embarrassed to admit you’d stolen it, but also too attached to it to give it up. 

The material was so familiarly soft as you ran your fingers along it. Bringing it up to your nose, you inhaled the scent of it, eyes closing. But unfortunately after all that time of it sitting in your dresser beside your clothes, it now smelled exactly like your own fresh laundry instead of Matt’s distinct, clean scent. That hollow ache hit you right in the chest as you lowered the shirt from your face, your fingers still running along the fabric. But at least this time the ache was markedly less painful than it had been in the past.

[END NOTES]

Yes, more end notes. Because I really enjoy them 😅

So in this installment we find out that Matt has been texting Reader ever since Karen left, but now he finally called her!! And he was finally flirting with her which got her all flustered!! Though we did see Reader was feeling a little insecure when he called her cute, especially with the knowledge of the plethora of women he's slept with, but Matt was quick to make sure she knew just how much he's attracted to her. And ohhh! He was apparently thinking of heading out to LA? And Reader might be flying to Hell's Kitchen in a couple of weeks? Does that smell like the next installment or what? Because it is. It is the next installment and it's tentatively titled "A Series of Firsts." I haven't decided if it'll get broken up into two different installments or not yet, but I have started writing it. And there will be more sweet Matty in it when they finally reunite!

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Note of credit to my babies @stylespresleyhearted & @eliseinmemphis -much and many of these thots originate from their juicy little brains and the chats we have on our unhinged discord, they magnanimously agreed that it was worth sharing with any of y’all who might get a kick out of it.

Main Fic Masterlist

“Biopic”

Sofia makes her Priscilla Film.

But despite this, somehow, Gigi becomes friends with Jacob. So instead of the pitting Austin and Jacob against each other because of Elvis portrayals -and, as Gigi likes to call it “Miss Beaulieu’s Latest” -we get pap pics of Austin, Gigi,

and Jacob out for breakfast/dinner dates. Jacob may entertain petty notions of stealing Gigi from Austin due to Kaia Revenge Syndrome. Gigi assures him she likes him just fine, even if he’s too tall and pinched faced to play her man and much too skinny to really carry any real gravitas. ☺️

she just collects Elvises. it’s what she does.

In fact, older MILF Gigi, who has come out of her long reclusion and is now wreaking havoc on the world with her pretty toy boy actor boyfriend, is now a fiend to Young Hollywood. I mean, this is the woman who Elvis bought Vogue Mag for, just to feature her more often. Now sharing rights with Lovey, she retakes an interest in those editorials and in art and fashion in general. Our world suffers benefits from it. She has a group chat with just about every eligible young man clique, a girls gossip one and a very messy and lurching one of Baron (her son’s) exs.

Then, imagine who might tackle a Gigi Biopic?

Uncensored and unrestrained, a fuckfest of unapologetic love and insanity between a twenty year old and a man over twice her senior who she loved without boundaries all his life? Hmm.

Maybe Emerald Fennel. We do already have tub slurping, c’mon now.

A scene of Gigi practicing on a random truck driver makes it onto the film. Casting difficulties arise when Baron objects to anyone who he’s had relations with playing his mother. That nixes 89% of the blondes in Hollywood.

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[heartfullofleeches]

general hcs on our new edible couple? 🤍

[Original Post of said couple here]

Cinnabar and Izzy are a fun pair and have a pretty comedic origin to begin with. Both are dream fiends, being created from the dreams of humans, and looked close enough to their creators that they were able to pick up where those left off in life. (One's death was an accident, the other way murdered). Their creators were dating and through various notes and journals the two found out they had a date scheduled and were too afraid of raising suspicion to cancel it. The pair found out they were the same breed after Izzy nearly melted due to a fondue station and the rest was history.

Background out of the way, onto the headcanons

-

Cinnabar and Izzy are a package deal. Neither would take on another darling if their spouse didn't love them as well, and there are things Cinnabar can do that Izzy can't. Cinnabar is a sweet, compassionate person. Izzy is cold and distant - both personalities taking a step back in the right scene. While she is not the one who killed her creator, Cinnabar is more likely to kill/distance you from a rival that her spouse. Izzy stays in the background because he doesn't have control of his own body and prone to melting when he loses control of his emotions or stands near something warm for too long.

Riding off that last sentence, Izzy is incredible touch starved and a tad bit overprotective. He refuses to allow you to leave the house without pepper spray and your location tracker on, but if you give him a hug and a kiss that'll be enough of a distraction for you to get away... until you return home. Photography is his favorite hobby and his study is painted in pictures of you and Cinnabar. He normally sleeps there to avoid disturbing you both with his body heat or lack thereof.

While Cinnabar encourages him to embrace you, she's more than happy to give you all the hugs she can provide. She lives by the motto of food being the way to a person's heart and tries to lure you into their home with the promise of three meals a day and dessert if you stay with them. She runs an in home bakery and appears close to human that her spouse from the dreams of her customers, but inside she's still all cinnamon and sugar. Breakfast always has a bit of that spice mixed in, but she tries to give leeway with lunch and dinner.

Izzy isn't left out when she makes her special desserts for you, and can even alter the flavor of his ice cream temporarily depending on what he consumes before hand. It's easier for him to regenerate than his wife so he doesn't mind giving up an arm or a leg for you, but Cinnabar usually tries to convince him to give up blood or.... other fluids.

Summertime is when you get the most physical affection out of your partners. Izzy is still reluctant on going outside, but if it's warm enough he'll join the cuddle pile to keep you cool throughout the night. Since he doesn't go out much, he doesn't have all the social knowledge Cinnabar does and sometimes just drags you away from whatever task you're invested in to put your head against his icy chest. Cinnabar steals his Polaroid to snap as many pictures as she can before he notices and nearly melts on the spot.

Cinnabar's prized dessert is cinnamon rolls crafted into bowls and filled with fresh ice cream. The best of both worlds, as she says. Nothing makes either of them happier than when you find comfort in the things they do for you. Your happiness and safety is all they could ever dream of in this world, and they'll do anything to put a smile on your face

[hb-writes]

Family

Characters: Frank Castle & Teen Reader/OC (she/ her pronouns)

Prompt: heyyy so I was wondering if u could do a platonic lil Drabble for The punisher/frank castle with a teen reader with #60 for the one hundred compliments maybe like where he sees her as a daughter and she sees him as a father figure-sorry if that don’t make sense

Summary: Even after all these years and all the bad things that have come to happen in Frank Castle's life, he still maintains a connection with his army buddy's orphaned daughter, a relationship that has kept both of them a little more sane while wading through the grief of loss because they're family and that's what family does.

Content Warnings: Mention of death/ loss/ grief

The Punisher Masterlist

Frank’s eyes slid to the clock on the wall as she slumped into the booth across from him at the diner. She was seventeen minutes late, but that was nothing new. Frank had come to expect that she would arrive anywhere between 3 to 20 minutes late no matter what.

The kid was never on time. Her parents had been the same way—to the point that it was a running joke between the two families—and Frank sometimes wondered if she held onto that trait only because she knew it was something that tied her to them, to her mother and father. 

He’d offered to hold their regular meet up later in the day—a late breakfast or lunch, even—but she insisted on keeping the Sunday early morning time slot despite never arriving on time. Frank didn’t really mind. There was a certain bit of nostalgia to it, painful as that could be sometimes. Sad as that could be... 

Once upon a time, their group had occupied one of the corner booths, her and Frank and their families, but with Maria and the kids gone and her parents gone, too, Frank and the girl were all that was left.

Frank had already ordered her breakfast, knowing her preferences well-enough to ask the waitress for an order of french toast with bacon and—

“Mmmm Coffee,” she nearly moaned, reaching out for the steaming mug before she even finished getting settled in the booth. Frank figured it was his bad influence that had the girl craving it with that sort of vigor—enjoying it black, only—unlike most of the kids her age who seemed to prefer the near-religious consumption of Starbucks-branded sugar and cream with a splash of coffee rather than the other way around. 

Her mother would probably have killed Frank for encouraging the habit. He didn’t imagine she’d be drinking it if her parents were still alive, but there were plenty of things that fit that category. Coffee was probably the least concerning of them, but the only role models she had in her life these days—Frank and her Aunt—were both caffeine fiends, so he didn't fault the girl one bit in that regard. 

“You look like shit,” she said, an eyebrow quirked as she eyed Frank over the top of her cup.

It was the truth—Frank was sporting a nasty bruise on his face that looked like it hurt, but he didn’t take the bait, scrutinizing her from across the table instead.

Frank reached out for his own coffee cup. “And you look like you never made it home last night.” 

She glanced down at her outfit—a sweatshirt, sweatpants, and slides that all very clearly didn’t belong to her. Her options had been limited when she’d reluctantly pulled herself from her short slumber. Her choices had been to either force herself back into last night’s homecoming dress and heels or to raid her date’s drawers, and she hadn’t been too interested in getting back into the dress to ride the train before 6 am. 

She stayed quiet as Frank sipped from his coffee.

“So uh…Vic knows about your little sleepover?” Frank asked into the quiet between them.

She shrugged, reaching for the maple syrup and drowning her french toast. Her Aunt Victoria was an ER nurse and she was working a double this weekend so she wouldn’t be home until mid-afternoon. She had texted with her throughout the dance the night before and after, sending a text that said ‘Night. I’m going to sleep xoxo.’ It technically hadn’t been a lie. She just hadn’t been going to sleep in her own bed.

She focused on cutting her food into bite sized pieces, well-aware that Frank was watching her every move, trying to figure something out about her without having to ask. He leaned back against the booth suddenly and cleared his throat.

“So are you dating this kid?”

She had a feeling Frank already knew the answer and just wanted to hear it from her mouth.

“So, uh…” she started, with no intention of confirming or denying anything. “What happened to your face, Frank?” She pointed at him with a forkful of french toast. “Looks like it hurts.” 

Frank snorted as she chewed on a bite. It did hurt, but that was beside the point.

“What’s the kid’s name?” 

“Who?” she asked, spearing another bite with her fork. “The guy that hit you?" She took a bite, shrugging. "I don’t know, Frank. You tell me.”

“Don’t try to be cute, kid.” 

“I don’t need to try to be cute,” she answered. “It comes quite naturally.” 

“Alright, enough. Just tell me your…” Frank paused for a moment, thinking. Boyfriend? Girlfriend? She’d never really expressed any sort of preference one way or another. Or at least, she hadn’t expressed it to him, and Frank knew better than to assume. “Tell me your... special friend’s name,” he said.

She resisted the urge to laugh at the term, closing her eyes to fight the smile tugging at her lips. “No,” she said before shoveling another bite in her mouth.

“So you are dating, then? There is someone special?” 

“No…” she started, holding out the word, her cheeks heating as she realized he’d caught her. “I—It’s not—Why does it even matter?” 

“Because you’re not supposed to be dating.” 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “According to who?” 

Her aunt didn’t have rules about that type of thing. The woman barely had any rules at all. She kept her grades up and she stayed out of trouble, and there was very little guidance given to her outside of that. Frank tried to guide her from afar, to put in his two cents when he could, but his sphere of influence was a bit limited these days, considering most of the world thought he was dead. Their connection was somewhat confined to occasional phone calls and these semi-regular breakfasts. It wasn’t like he could enforce much from that standpoint. 

“I thought your stance was no dating until sixteen?” She raised her eyebrows in question. 

She didn’t just think that was his stance. She knew it because Frank and Maria had said it often enough about Lisa and Frank Jr., and her parents had been what she considered way more strict than the two of them.

Her dad had always said she could date after she had her high school diploma in hand and not a moment sooner. She’d always thought Maria and Frank seemed like cooler parents because of it…much more reasonable, not that the matter of her dating was anything more than theoretical back then. The idea of dating hadn’t even really been on her mind at the time. She had been just a kid when her parents passed away.  

“I’m seventeen now, in case you’ve forgotten,” she added, though Frank couldn’t forget. He remembered her birth because she’d been born shortly before him and her dad returned from a tour. The guys had all been nearly as excited to meet the new kid as they had been to see their own families. 

“Yeah, well, I owe it to your dad to at least try and honor his wishes,” Frank answered. 

How many of their conversations over the last five years had been because of that, an attempt to honor her parents and their wishes? Because they weren't here to ask the questions, or enforce their rules? Because they weren't here to encourage her to be patient, to make sure she was being smart and safe and all of the things Frank imagined a parent of a teenager was meant to do?

And over the last three years, how much of what he said and did where she was involved was because Lisa and Frank Jr. weren’t here, too? For years, she’d called him Uncle Frank, thought of him just the same way she did all of her dad’s army buddies. She wasn’t technically his kid, but at the same time, she was... 

“And it’s my…duty…to make sure you’re being safe.”

She choked on her coffee, struggling to keep it in her mouth as she sensed where the conversation was going.

“To make sure—”

“No,” she shook her head, heat blazing in her cheeks at the mere thought of discussing the birds and the bees with Frank. It was too early in the morning for this. “No, no, no, no, no. We are not having this conversation. Aunt Vic is a nurse and I’m not an idiot, okay? End of discussion.” 

Frank snorted, his body shaking with a bit of laughter. “Glad to hear it, though that wasn’t what I meant.” 

She grabbed for her coffee, just to have something to do, pulling it towards her lips though she waited to take a sip, not knowing where the conversation was going and not wanting to risk spitting coffee across the table.

“I just meant you have to be careful with who you trust,” he said. “I wouldn’t want something to happen to you, is all. For you to get hurt…"

Frank fiddled with his untouched silverware, straightening it on the placemat before meeting her eye. “They’re a good person?” 

She sighed, leaning back into the cushions as she finally took the sip she’d been delaying. The waitress came to offer a refill and they both accepted, silent as she poured their coffees. 

“Yes,” she allowed once the woman stepped away, her voice softening. “He’s a good person, Frank.” 

Frank nodded. “Good. That’s good.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Your aunt has met this kid?” 

She nodded. “We’ve already done all the awkward ‘meet the family’ stuff. Aunt Vic was a menace as I’m sure you can imagine. Dad would’ve been pleased.” 

"Good." Frank smiled. “Someone’s gotta be.” 

They both sipped at their coffees in silence and she watched as Frank became occupied looking out the window, tracking the movements of passersby in their surroundings. 

“I wish I could introduce him to you.” 

Frank turned his gaze to her, a bit surprised by the words. It wouldn’t ever happen—it couldn’t because of everything that had gone down. Technically, Frank Castle didn’t exist. Not even Vic knew that he was alive and having breakfast with her niece. "Really?"

“Of course I wish you could meet him. You’re family, Frank.” The way she said it made it sound like an obligation and seeing that fact settle on Frank’s face, she added, “I’m happy to have you as my family. Lucky.” 

Frank nodded, the hint of a smile there on his face. “I'm lucky to have you too, kid.”

The Punisher Masterlist