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phoward89 · 2 months

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This is based on this ask.

Coryo is a hands on dad in this. (Thank God, since he was a real piece of shit in the last daddy!Coriolanus one shot)

Everyone says that pregnancy is a beautiful experience. Women are supposed to look radiant and glowing as they're round with the new life they're growing inside of them.

What nobody tells you is that your feet and ankles swell, your back aches, you pee more than a race horse, you balloon into the size of a beluga whale, and your mood swings are all over the place because of the pregnancy hormones. Oh, and you crave the weirdest things.

Nope, people don't tell you that. You had to learn that the hard way. At least you had your husband by your side during everything.

Coriolanus is a very busy man, being the youngest President of Panem, but he always made time in his busy schedule for you. To check in on you and make sure you were okay. After all, it's his fault you're in the condition you're in.

Okay…

Well…

You both agreed to try for a baby during the honeymoon, so it technically wasn't his fault you're big and miserable right now.

Honestly, Coriolanus had baby fever and replaced your birth control pills with sugar pills a month or so before the wedding, so you were bound to get pregnant right away.

Anyways, you're currently so big that you can't do anything by yourself. Hell, you can barely even walk anymore. You're practically waddling like a duck.

And you're so emotional. You've been crying at the drop of a hat lately. Anything, literally anything, can put you into a crying drag. It was emotionally exhausting.

Your husband, the president, was surprisingly supportive of you. He doted on you. Even when you were complaining about being uncomfortable or crying your eyes out for the umpteenth time, Coryo was right by your side trying to comfort you.

Despite his cold, calculated, stoic nature that everyone saw, he was soft and loving towards you. But only you.

Because he loves you more than anything in this world.

Despite vowing to never let himself fall in love again, when you became his personal secretary when he was Senator Snow he fell for you.

It was hard not to. Your beauty paired with your personality was hard for him to resist.

So, he broke a promise to himself that he made at 18 or 19 years old. But, when it comes to love it just happens. Vowing to never fall in love's a foolish notion because one can't control who they fall in love with.

It just happens.

But, unfortunately, when he fell in love with you it wasn't when you were available. You had a long time boyfriend. And since Coriolanus wanted you to be his, he got rid of your boyfriend.

Permanently.

With poison.

And then a few months after your boyfriend was out of the picture, Coriolanus wooed you. He asked you out with pretty words and a single white rose. Of course you accepted.

Then, when he was campaigning to become Panem's youngest president, he proposed. And after he won the election, becoming President Snow, he married you; made you his First Lady Snow.

And now you're about to become a mother, another thing he had a hand in the making of.

The only problem was that your due date’s come and gone.

And you feel absolutely miserable.

“Darling, I just got off the phone with Dr. Wellock about your situation of being overdue.” Your husband, Coryo, announced as he walked into the sunroom room you were lounging in.

“What did he say?” You asked as the platinum blonde made his way over to your side.

“He says that an induction isn't done until the expecting mother is anywhere between 10-12 days overdue.” He said, taking a seat next to you on the sofa.

“So that means I have at least 5 more days of feeling miserable?” You asked, feeling tears begin to well up.

“Unfortunately, yes, my darling rose.” Coryo told you while wrapping an arm around you. Pulling you into his chest, he said, “The doctor gave me a list of things that can help to induce you naturally.” Rubbing your lower back, knowing that it was bothering you lately, you husband told you, “I'm having the kitchen staff cook the foods that'll help naturally induce you, Y/N.”

Coryo was a godsend. He was looking after you when he should be busy running the country. He didn't have an easy job.

He was the President of Panem.

And here he was catering to you. Offering you comfort and gentle reassurances during your difficult time of being overdue and feeling uncomfortable.

Suddenly, you felt overwhelmed. Felt like a burdened. And, before you could even control yourself, you started to cry into your husband's chest.

“What's wrong, little dove?” Coriolanus asked, threading his long fingers thru your hair, trying to soothe you.

“I feel bad that you're here with me instead of running the country. You’re the president, you should be working, not by my side giving me backrubs and helping me get from point A to point B all the time.”

“Y/N, darling, I might be the president, but I'm also your husband. As your husband, I put you and our unborn child before anything, including work. The wellbeing of my family will always come first, Panem second.”

“How did I get so lucky to have you?” You asked between sobs.

Because he whacked your Academy Sweetheart.

But, Coriolanus couldn't tell you that. No, that's a secret he'll take with him to the grave. Along with all the other various murders he's committed and will keep on committing in order to be all powerful and filthy rich.

No, instead the president just presses a kiss to your head and tells you, “Dumb luck, I suppose.” Rubbing circles into your lower back, causing soft moans to fall from your lips, Coriolanus smiled, “But I consider myself the lucky one for being your husband. There's no other woman in all of Panem that I could ever see myself loving as deeply as I love you.”

Sniffing and wiping at your eyes, you say, “Don't tell me sweet stuff like that or I'll never stop crying.”

Unfortunately, labor inducing foods didn't work. So, Coryo told you that the doctor told him that sex, nipple stimulation, and orgasms could help induce labor. You laughed at him, saying that had to be a lie since, despite your huge size, you were still very sexually active with him. Coriolanus just shrugged, claiming that's what the doctor told him.

You don't know if it was from sex or just your time to go into labor, but in the middle of the night (after having late night sex with your husband) you woke up with labor pains and a soaked nightgown. When you woke up Coriolanus, telling him that it was (finally) time and that you were in labor, he quickly grabbed your baby bag and rushed you to the hospital.

The man, being a very devoted husband and father to be, drove you himself. You feared that Coryo would drag you to the hospital in his pajamas, but much to your relief he did toss on some clothes before taking you.

Once at the hospital, since you're the First Lady of Panem, you were put on VIP status and given a private room with a window view of the Rockies. You didn't really care since you were in the worst pain of your entire life, but it was a nice gesture. Coriolanus sure did enjoy the special treatment you were getting. Remarking how only the best for his love would do.

The president never left your side during your labor. He wiped your sweaty forehead with a cool cloth, buzzed the nurses for ice chips and pain meds for you, and he let you squeeze his hand to the point he thought his bones would break whenever you had a particularly painful contraction.

The hospital staff just melted at the sight of President Coriolanus Snow doting on his First Lady Y/N Snow. The nurses were swooning everytime they heard Coryo tell you, “You’re doing so well, darling.”, “I know it hurts, little dove, but soon we'll have our baby and it'll be well worth it.”, “Squeeze my hand as hard as you need to, my darling rose. I served as a peacekeeper once, I can handle you breaking my hand while in labor pains.”

You were sitting up, pushing hard every 5 seconds, around 3 times per contraction. Coryo was right by your side, holding your hand and telling you, “You're doing wonderful, darling. Just a few more pushes and we'll be parents.”

The nurse in the room fought back the urge to swoon at the president’s words while the doctor just assured you that Coriolanus was right, that he could see the baby's head and after another push the baby would be born.

So, gathering all of the strength you could muster after pushing for what felt like hours, you did one last, hard push.

Your baby came out with a healthy set of lungs. Crying before even needing a spank to the butt.

Dr. Wellock held the baby up in the air, only to announce, “It's a girl!”

A girl. You and Coryo had a baby girl.

Tears of love welled up in your eyes as Coriolanus’ baby blues shines with pride as he whispered, “A baby girl.”, before pressing a soft kiss to your chapped lips.

“Mister President, Sir, would you like to cut the cord?” Dr. Wellock asked your husband as a nurse helped you deliver the placenta.

“Yes, I would like to.” Coriolanus replied before standing up and going over to the doctor. Silently, the doctor passed him the scissors and he cut the cord. After cutting the cord, your husband returned to your side while the doctor passed the baby over to the nurse to be cleaned and wrapped in a blanket.

“She's beautiful, darling.” Coriolanus told you as the doctor quickly cleaned you up.

“Does she have your platinum blonde hair?” You asked, a curious smile splitting your face wide open.

“Yes.” The president nodded. “She has both my light blonde hair and blue eyes.”

“You're going to be beating all the boys off with a stick in about, eh, 13 or so years.” You knowingly giggled right as the nurse appeared with your bundle of joy wrapped in a soft pink blanket and matching hat.

Handing you your daughter, the nurse asked, “What's her name?”

“Cersei.” You and Coryo answered at the same time, looking at your daughter with nothing but love.

Honestly, you were a bit nervous about how Coryo would be as a father since, after all, he had a lot on his plate as the president of the country. But it turns out that you didn't have anything to worry about. Coriolanus was a great father. He was very hands-on despite his strenuous and busy job being President of Panem.

The president always made time for his daughter and, of course, for you.

And when you went out in public, he was always by your side when wheeling your baby in the stroller. So many paparazzis would hide and flash pictures of President Snow with your daughter because it was the only way to get a picture of them together. Coryo never used Cersei for photo ops or publicity stunts. In fact he rarely talked about her at all interviews other then the general and polite answers of, “Oh, she's doing well.”, “Cersei's a happy girl.”, and “She’s hitting all of her milestones.”

Honestly, Coryo didn't like to talk too much about his daughter because he didn't want her in the limelight. He chose to become the president and you chose to become his first lady. You both knew the fame that came with it. But Cersei was born into it and your husband, President Coriolanus Snow, wanted her to have as normal of a childhood as possible.

And then, when your daughter was 3, you got pregnant again. Well, you and Coriolanus weren't trying, but weren't preventing either.

You were too far along yet, just nearing your 4th month. You knew that soon you'd be blowing into the size of a balloon tho.

But you weren't thinking about that right now.

Right now, you were just smiling at the sight of your daughter curled up on your husband's lap as he read her a book during one of his breaks from his office in the presidential wing of the mansion.

“Daddy?” Your daughter, whose platinum blonde hair was in little piggy tales, asked- causing your husband to pause in his reading.

It was cute how Coriolanus melted the first time he was called Dada and decided to let his daughter call him Daddy as she grew despite telling you over and over again during your pregnancy with her that he was going to be called father or nothing at all.

She's like Cersei has your husband wrapped around her finger.

“Yes, princess?” Coryo asked your daughter, looking at her with a genuine smile.

“Mama’s here.” She excitedly told your husband with a big smile on her face.

Coryo looked up, only to tell your daughter, “Oh, so she is.” Waving you into the room, your husband said, “Come in and sit down, darling. You don't need to stand in the doorway.”

“Oh, don't mind me, I was just walking down the hall and thought that I'd just check in on my favorite people while on my way to get a snack.” You told your husband, shrugging off his offer of you joining him and your daughter in the sun room.

“Mama, I want a snack!” Cersei exclaimed.

Coryo chuckled, only to close the book he was reading and place it onto the side table by his sitting chair. Standing up, with your daughter slung on his hip, the president announced, “Looks like a family snack time’s in order before I get back to work being the President Panem.”

When Cersei was almost 4, you had your son, Cassian Xandros. Then when she was 5 you had another son, Caspian Xenos and when she was 7 you had your last child. Another son, who was named Caelestis Xanthias.

Even tho Coriolanus had not 1 but 3 boys to carry on the mighty and magnificent Snow name, it was your daughter, Cersei, that was his favorite child.

Coriolanus was a good father to all 4 of your children, but it was your daughter that had him wrapped around his finger. She was daddy's little princess. She could do no wrong in his eyes.

But your boys…oh boy…Your son's had to be perfect unless they wanted to hear Coriolanus lecture them. He expected straight A’s and top marks in school from his 3 boys. Expected them to be involved in school politics, chess club, and the debate team. And when it came time for them to be mentors in the Hunger Games for a district that didn't have a Victor to act as a mentor, well you better believe that they had to be perfect at that too.

But not Cersei. Oh no… Coryo let Cersei get away with shit that he'd never let Cassian Xandros, Caspian Xenos, and Caelestis Xanthias get away with.

Cersei didn't want to be a mentor, so guess what? Her daddy, President Snow, let her stay home sick during the games so her mentor spot had to be given to somebody else. If she wanted to quit ballet lessons after just one lesson, saying it wasn't fun, then she could. She could get away with anything she wanted to, because your husband let her.

Coriolanus spoiled his daughter rotten.

And one day, as a young woman, when Cersei went running to her daddy saying that she was in trouble (knocked up) and that the Peacekeeper that got her in that condition didn't want the responsibility of a family, you know what Coriolanus did? He just told your daughter that he'd take care of everything.

And boy did he ever…

He had tea with that peacekeeper, where only one of them walked away from the garden tea table alive, and scattered the man's family all over the districts. Making sure that his younger siblings, nieces, nephews, cousins, etc were reaped when eligible.

Coriolanus also assured your daughter that you and him would help her raise her baby. That she'd have your support and wouldn't be alone.

So, when Cersei gave birth to her daughter, Celeste Snow, as a single mother you and Coryo were by her side. Assuring her that everything was fine, that she was going to be a great mother.

You had a sense of deja vu whenever the nurses all gossiped and giggled about how President Snow was such a good father and grandfather to be for staying by his daughter's side and supporting her despite her being an unwed mother.

Coriolanus was a great father to all of your children, but his favorite was your daughter Cersei. So, naturally, his favorite grandchild was her only daughter Celeste. He dotes on your granddaughter Celeste. She was the apple of his eye, even when the boys started getting married and having children of their own.

Coriolanus loved all his grandchildren, but Celeste was his favorite.

You on the other hand didn't have favorites. You loved all of your children and grandchildren equally.

But Coryo wasn't like you. No, your husband was the type to love obsessively, so he had to pick favorites.

So, it didn't surprise you when one day, before the games started, you walked into the sunroom to see your granddaughter and your husband having brunch. It reminded you of how he used to read to her mother all those years ago.

He might be older now with pure white hair, a distinguished white beard framing his face, and a bit more weight on his bones, but he was the same man in spirit he was all those years ago when he used to cut time out of his day just for your daughter. Now he just does it for his granddaughter.

“Grandpa, Grandma just walked in.” Celeste announced, peeling little shell pieces off of her soft boiled egg.

“I see that, darling.” Coryo told your granddaughter. Looking at you, he gestured to the empty seat next to him at the table and suggested, “Why don't you join me, my darling rose.”

“Well, I wasn't planning to, but if you insist.” You smiled, walking further into the room.

Your eyes saw the way Celeste had her hair done in a braid, that looked like the one that Victor from 12 Katniss Everdeen wore and you secretly hoped that your husband wouldn't yell at her for it. You knew how much he couldn't stand the Everdeen girl and feared that he'd be upset with Celeste for wearing her hair like the victor's.

As you sat down, you heard your husband say, “Your hair looks lovely darling, when did you start wearing it like that?”

“Everybody at school wears it like this now, grandpa.” Celeste said with a little devious smile on her face.

And the backlash never came. He just nodded his head and went on to eat his egg.

And that's when you knew that Celeste had the same power over him that Cersei did. That you had as well.

Coriolanus Snow might be a cold, evil, dictator of a president, but to his granddaughter, daughter, and wife he's just a man that loves them unconditionally to the point where it might be considered a weakness if anyone knew.

And perhaps that's why he never speaks much about his girls in interviews. He'll speak about his boys, but not his girls.

Because if anything ever happened to his girls, well…the president wouldn't know what to do with him.

That's how much he loves his darling girls.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22, @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503 @shari-berri, @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak, @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons, @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1, @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88, @v-love

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just-j-really · 4 months

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While I'm on the subject of Dreamling-does-tropes-wrong:

Hanahaki au where Hob's the one with hanahaki. Because I think however you set it up Hob refuses to play by the rules of the genre and the potential there is like catnip to me.

"The cure is confessing your love" variant? Hob's just like "Well fuck this actually" and tells Dream he loves him the moment he starts coughing up flowers. And there's so much potential there!

-Poor Hob tries to confess to Dream every time they interact and something keeps getting in his way- he falls in love in 1689, in 1789 they get interrupted, in 1889 he gets halfway through a confession and Dream YOU DAREs him, in 1989 he gets stood up. In 2022 Dream shows up at his table in the New Inn and Hob just blurts out "I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU" before Dream has the chance to actually say anything.

-Modern day, post-reunion, Dream doesn't want to intrude on Hob's life but he does want to see him more so he decides to go for the totally rational move of using his Dream-powers to spy on Hob- which means he gets a front-row seat to Hob slowly succumbing to hanahaki the second their meeting ends. All of Hob's friends/coworkers/acquaintances are REAL worried for him, but he's just like "it's seriously nbd I'll just tell him next time I see him." Dream is also REAL worried while spying from afar, but eventually goes to Hob in person to beg him to confess to whoever he's in love with. (Could be very serious and emotional, could play like that one "just tell them you love them" "alright. hey, I love you." "yes, like that!" meme.)

-Hob blurts out a love confession at... literally any of their canonical meetings, and the rest of the fic is dealing with the fallout. I think the simplest way to do this is 1889, with the confession standing in for "I think you're lonely." I think the most interesting way to do this is 1489, because so much would change. I think the FUNNIEST way to do this is 1589, yes Hob is still married.

But then you can also do the "the cure is having your love requited" variant, where Hob suffers through several centuries with an incurable lung disease. One of his most treasured dreams is that someone will come up with a cure (but for Plot reasons it keeps just not happening, like someone does come up with a cure but the side effects just aren't worth it if you can technically survive having flowers in your lungs. And/or he's never found a doctor he trusted not to freak out if he died and came back on the operating table).

And then you've got options such as:

-Dream falls in love in 1689, and either they start up a relationship right then, or they spend several centuries where Hob thinks they're in a relationship (his feelings were returned, of course they are!) and Dream thinks he's pining hopelessly for Hob, who could never love him

-Dream Does Not realize that Hob is in love with him (and in fact thinks Hob just keeps getting hanahaki, over and over, for different people, and wonders why Death saddled him with the world's Messiest human). And then he falls in love with Hob.

-Dream DOES realize Hob is in love with him. Unfortunately, he falls in love with Hob (or more realizes that what he was feeling WAS love) while fishbowled. Fortunately, Hob notices the lack of flowers, gets worried about what that means (because if his Stranger returns his feelings then why isn't he here? the flowers can't be gone because he's dead, Hob refuses to believe it). Cue a fishbowl rescue!

-Dream falls in love with Hob post-fishbowl, but is in denial about his ow feelings and assumes Hob found a workable cure sometime while he was fishbowled, or got over him. He's VERY SAD about this and can't figure out why. Hob is busy googling 'how to ask out a guy who i empirically know likes me back but only looks at me mournfully when i try to flirt'

Like I want to write this fic so bad but there are so many directions i want to go with it...

#dreamling #my fic #hanahaki au

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flowercrowngods · 1 year

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in which steve is sick, eddie is in love, and floor time is being had

Eddie is in the kitchen when he hears the sound of footsteps approaching him. The smile is on his face before he even turns around to catch a glimpse of Steve, gloriously disheveled from all that sleep he’s been catching up on. He’s wearing one of Eddie’s big, fuzzy sweaters that Steve always hogs when he’s sick — which, thankfully, isn’t all that often —, a thick pair of sweats and mismatched socks.

Sickness is the time to wear mismatched socks without judgment, Edwin Munswin, Steve had huffed the first time Eddie saw him with a runny nose and ridiculous socks that definitely didn’t belong together. It had been the first time he admitted to himself that he was absolutely gone for Steve Runny Nose Harrington.

And so it doesn’t come as a surprise to him that his heart stumbles in his chest and the smile on his lips widens. Steve might hate being sick, but Eddie can’t really help but love him even more when he gets like this. When Steve allows himself to be a little weak and for Eddie to take care of him.

“Hi, sunshine,” Eddie says, turning down the heat on the stove to go over to his Stevie, wrapping his arms around the blanket Steve still has around his shoulders. “Sleep well?”

“Mmh.” It’s nothing more than a raspy grunt, a pathetic little noise as Steve cuddles further into Eddie, seeking out his warmth and comfort so freely that Eddie presses a kiss to his slightly sweaty forehead. “Missed you.”

“I’m right here,” he promises, running a hand up and down Steve’s back. “Just made you tea while the soup is warming up. Because you’re gonna have to eat.”

“Okay,” Steve nods, sounding solemn as he does, and Eddie wants to laugh. Gods, he’s so in love, it’s disgusting. Ridiculous. Absolutely laughable. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” A whisper, another promise, another kiss. He unwinds his arms and looks back at the giant pot of soup he made yesterday. “Do you wanna go back to bed or stay here?”

“Here,” Steve sighs and promptly sinks down the counter until he’s sitting on the floor, looking up at Eddie with those beautiful brown eyes, so big and and full of love that Eddie can’t resist ruffling his hair, which earns him a little giggle from Steve.

Oh, right, he’s had the good stuff prescribed from the doctor. This is going to be fun in a few hours.

“You ridiculous man,” Eddie murmurs, trailing his hand from the crown of Steve’s head down across his cheek all the way to his chin in a gentle caress.

“Go back to your soup, you most ridiculous of men,” Steve says in retaliation, but he reaches for his hand to hold as Eddie returns to the stove.

“Technically it’s your soup.”

“That’s what I said.” Eddie looks down to see the most adorable of frowns on Steve’s head, and his heart explodes a little in his chest.

He snorts and squeezes Steve’s hand. “Sure is, baby.”

“See? I’m smart sometimes.”

“No argument from me there,” Eddie says, and he means it.

A hum comes from Steve and then he leans his head against Eddie’s leg. “You’re so nice to me, Eds. I like that you’re nice to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then it’s quiet, and the weight of Steve against his leg becomes heavier by the second to the point where Eddie is pretty sure Steve’s fallen asleep again. He doesn’t dare to move, but dear God he wants to laugh, he wants to cry, wants to scream at the world how much he loves this ridiculous, adorable, possibly delirious and high on cold medication man who is wrapped in his blanket on their kitchen floor.

“Stevie,” he whispers at last, the soup hot, the tea just cool enough, and cards his hand through Steve’s hair to wake him. “Sunshine, wake up, I have soup for you.”

“Soup?”

“Soup.”

“But I love soup.”

“Then I have great news for you,” Eddie laughs and tilts Steve’s head up so he’ll meet his eyes. “It’s plenty, it’s warm, and you can have some. It’s right here.”

“You made me soup?”

“Yeah, babe,” Eddie chuckles, his heart tearing itself apart at the way Stevie looks up at him with such wonder and awe and love. “I made you so much soup. All for you.”

Steve nods, thinks for a moment and then looks up at Eddie again. “Can we share?”

“You wanna share your soup with me?” Eddie says, crouching down so he’s on eye level with Steve and can brush a kiss to his forehead again.

Steve nods again and reaches for him, clinging to Eddie’s sweater — well, it’s Steve’s technically. “Wanna share everything with you.“

“Even your blanket?”

Steve smiles and nods again, lifting one arm to invite Eddie in, which earns him a laugh. “Alright, let me just…”

He grabs two bowls of soup, Steve’s large mug of tea, two spoons and two pillows from their chairs so they can eat the soup on the floor without uncomfortable heat in their laps.

Later, when soup is but a distant memory of half an hour ago, Steve lets himself fall to the side and slumps into Eddie, head nestled on his shoulder.

“Sleep time again?” Eddie asks.

“No,” Steve slurs, definitely already on his way to half asleep. “Just. Just love you.”

Eddie hums and leans into Steve in return, warm underneath their blanket, surprisingly comfortable on the floor, backs against the counter. “Just love you, too, sunshine.”

And if Eddie closes his eyes, too, lulled into a sleepy state of comfort and warmth, then that’s just one more thing that happens with a sick Steve around.

In sickness and in health, he thinks with that same smile on his lips.

for @seidenbros, i besmooch your forehead with this 🌷🤍

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #y’all wick MediMait has like 600mg paracetamol and 18% alcohol and idk if y’all ever had it but it can leave you In A State #so here you have some ridiculous delirious ‘high’ steve and an eddie who couldn’t be more in love #i had meant to write more floor time but it felt forced so i left it where it is #dio words #this is my first sickfic ever idk how this works but them being ridiculously sweet is okay right?#my brother used to be ridiculously sweet on me when i was sick. and i on him. idk there’s just love all around when anyone’s sick #idk how else do deal with this??

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 3 months

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we're in love - m. murdock

a/n: hi guys not dead just played a LOT of baldurs gate over break and now im back ay college with matt murdock brainrot this ones been floating around the old noggin a while. sorry. likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3 warnings: DEAD DOVE with a happy ending, hard of hearing reader, cannon typical marvel violence, probably badly written violence, matt being upset, once again im tired and sleepy and bad at doing warnings, reader gets kidnapped TWICE, reader has superpowers, reader is TECHNICALLY a hybrid but literally just in the way that she has small antlers and deer like abilities (strength, jump height), fucked up experiments, ANGST ANGST ANGST, memory loss trope but like... the one from the hunger games. matt is hopelessly in love with reader, reader wants to kill matt, kissing, implied sexual ideas, cursing. SHAMELESS USE OF REAL OR NOT REAL FROM THG, reader having anxiety, and allusions of sex. word count: 7.1k summary: when your past finally catches up to you, matt truly learns what 'in sickness and in health' means. pairing: matt murdock x hoh!wife!reader now playing: we're in love - boygenius "will you still love me if it turns out I'm insane?/i know what you'll say/but it helps to hear you say it anyway."

Falling in love with Matt Murdock was the easy part.

Falling back in love with him was the tough bit.

You had spent the years leading up to meeting him as a boxer turned vigilante— Your dad had taught you how to fight young, which led to a lot of trouble at school until he eventually started helping you enter teenage fights against your mom’s wishes.

It’s how you paid for college.

And then, after your college experience, you lose control. It was never supposed to happen the way it did. You had lost a fight and stole the guy’s motorcycle in defiance. But the roads were wet from an early snow and people of New York never knew how to drive.

Just like that, the nerves in your hands were shot. The accident got your hearing too since you got sick from the cold after your accident. The infection got so bad that it took the hearing from your left ear—And half from your right.

For months, you thought you’d never gain control of your hands again, snapping from a promising young fighter to a deaf and shaky temp. You were miserable. Fighting was your everything for so long.

And then The Doctor found you.

No, not the alien from the British television show, but a man who promised you your old life back. He found you while you were at your lowest and realized that you would do anything for your old life back.

He said in exchange for your old life, all you would have to do would be a test subject for a harmless new drug he was testing out.

You were so enamored by the idea of your old life that you had decided to take him up on his offer, so you were whisked away upstate with a group of other people desperate enough to try this experiment out.

Every morning you were given a shot of blue liquid into your arm, and then, you were to preform a series of tasks to record your progress. After three weeks you grew frustrated that you had seen no progress. You spent most of your time asking people to talk into your right ear and becoming mad at The Doctor.

About a month in, you started growing antlers.

At first, you freaked out. Like, truly, screamed and yelled, wanting an explanation. The Doctor celebrated, telling you this was great news—And to prove it, he had you pick up a pen and write a sentence out. Your hands didn’t shake and did everything you told them to do.

On top of the antlers and the newfound control of your nerves, you were strong—Fast, too. You could jump twelve-foot walls. The Doctor was obsessed with you. While other patients died off from whatever drugs you were being given, you were thriving.

At the end of your three-month stay, you were excited to leave and head back to your life. You’d just have to wear beanies everywhere to hide your antlers, you told yourself. A small price to pay.

But The Doctor wouldn’t let you leave.

How could he, he asked you, when you were his best test subject?

Being a prisoner was a lot worse than you thought it would be. Day in and day out, you were trained to be a soldier, you think. Fighting various guards, doing different athletic tests. The serum hadn’t fixed your hearing, but it had given you all of these gifts.

Until The Doctor became cruel.

He gave the guards these batons that had shock currents at the end of them, instructing them to use it whenever you talked back or underperformed. For months you struggled through days of electric shocks and experiments.

One night, a guard slipped into your cell, expecting you to be an easy target. You quickly showed him differently, knocking him out and stealing his weapons. And then, you ran. You ran until your feet bled—No shoes.

An old woman who had retired upstate welcomed you into her small cabin and fed you, never asking about the small antlers growing out of your head. She simply gave you a warm knit cap and a pair of boots for the cold.

You remember eating chili with her as she told you about her deceased husband. You changed your last name to theirs, knowing The Doctor would find you if you kept going by your name. You stayed with her for a weekend, coming back from gathering firewood to The Doctor’s men there, having killed the kind old woman and on the hunt for you. You stole her car and never looked back.

The next few weeks after that had been full of killing various soldiers and armies that The Doctor had sent after you, until you eventually pushed The Doctor off a building, believing to have killed him for good.

And that was that.

You went on with your life as usual, finding a permanent job as a secretary. In a law office.

Which, of course, is where you met Matt.

With Matt, you never felt the need to hide who you were. Of course, it was a lot easier to tell him that some mad scientist had infected you with a drug that turned you into a deer hybrid when he told you that he was Daredevil.

And with time, some of the effects of the serum began to fizzle out. Strength, Agility, Antlers—Those stayed. The control over your hands didn’t. But you made peace with that. Physical Therapy twice a week and hearing aids helped.

Especially because early Sunday mornings were filled with Matt running his fingers through your hair, running his pointer finger along the curves of your antlers. He takes your hands and kisses your fingertips as they shake, hushing you softly when you start crying as he does.

He spars with you and spends nights running around New York City with you, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.

He tells you about Elektra, Stick, his dad, and Fisk.

One day, when you feel safe enough, wrapped up in his arms and a layer of blankets as snow falls against the windows, you tell him about The Doctor. You explain to him your nightmares, and why they will never go away.

He kisses away your tears and promises he’ll never let anything happen to you.

When he asks you to marry him, you don’t hesitate to say yes. There’s not a moment where you regret that decision. You insist to get married in the summer, during the short month where your antlers shed before they grow back. He agrees happily, just wanting you to be happy.

You’ve been married for about five months when you start to think about kids. You’ve been married six when you realize the worst possible scenario is your reality—When vials of blue serum show up at your front door with a note scribbled out—

‘My Best Test Subject,

I cannot wait to catch up with you soon.

-The Doctor’

You call Matt in a panic, begging him to come home and be with you. He obliges and holds you as you calm down. He promised to love you in sickness and in health, and that is what he fully intends to do.

This is the story of the greatest challenge that your marriage would face.

• • •

After the note you had received, you almost exclusively traveled with Matt. Even for just a casual stroll, a walk to the deli or home from work, He was there with you. He knew you could handle yourself, but you felt safer with him close by.

But Matt’s senses were never as focused when it rained, especially on nights like today. The rain pours, it almost stings against his skin. And it’s loud. You don’t have your hearing aids in, so they catch you both by surprise.

It all happens too fast—

In an instant, Matt is being pulled off your arm and slammed against the closest brick alley, and when he hears the click of a gun behind him, he realizes what’s happening. He tries to fight, but before he can make any process, someone is swinging that gun against his head, and when he wakes up, he’s all alone.

He calls out to you and gets no response other than thunder rumbling from miles away. He is filled with nothing but a rage, a determination to find you.

He scrambles for his phone and uses it to call Karen.

“I need you to get Frank.” He tells her, “Please. I.. I don’t know what happened, but.. He took her, I need.. Karen, I need to find her.” He tells her.

Frank is on his way to New York within the hour.

• • •

When you wake up, your arms are strapped behind your back in some sort of metal contraption. You can feel the ache in your hands, indicating that you had fought against whoever brought you here. The room is quiet. A small cot in one corner, but the rest of the room is barren.

You’re wearing white pants and a gray muscle tee, with no shoes. You’re suddenly thankful you left your wedding ring at home, so that it might not end up in his hands.

You wait a while, and then the door opens. The Doctor, flanked by two men in heavy armor, holding those batons you’re all too acquainted with, steps into the room. You simply stare, but The Doctor looks like a child on Christmas morning.

But there’s something else to his appearance. His left eye is this bright yellow, and his pupil is a different shape. Green scales travel up his neck and coat the bottom right half of his face, and down his arms, reaching his fingertips. He looks like a monster, but you quickly realize what has happened.

Whatever serum gave you your abilities, was given to him. Only, his was made from that of snakes, not deer.

“My beautiful creation!” He gasps and takes your face in his hand, planting a kiss to your head, right between your antlers. “It’s been too long, you know.” His ‘s’ sounds are elongated, and his teeth are sharper. He has become destroyed by his own mad endeavors. When you don’t respond to his greeting, he continues to speak. “It’s been an eventful few years for you, huh?” When this doesn’t get a response from you, he stands up straight and backs up just a foot. “New job, new name… New husband.” Your head snaps up at that. “What? You think I haven’t been keeping tabs on you and the boy? What do you call him, then? Matthew or Daredevil?”

Your eyes grow wide, unsure how he knows about your husband’s secret hobby.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spit, your gaze hardening into a glare.

“Don’t I? You make quite the couple. The little deaf doe and her crime fighting blind husband.” He laughs, “And they say I like a project.”

“You won’t touch him or I swear to god—”

“Little doe, you misunderstand. I want nothing to do with your husband. I just want you to be the good subject I know you can be.” He tells you. “You and I are the only of our kind. I want to study you, replicate you.”

“You’re going to kidnap more people.”

“You weren’t kidnapped, you volunteered.”

“I won’t do whatever it is you want me to do.” You tell him. “I don’t care, I will escape, I will kill you.”

He shakes his head, taking one of the batons from the guards, before hitting you across the face with it. You groan in pain, turning your head back to glare at him. He sighs.

“I didn’t want to have to do this. But I did anticipate that Husband of yours interrupting things.” He hands the baton back to the guard before telling him. “Take her down the hall and get her ready, alright?”

You struggle your way down the hall, refusing to do whatever is coming to you without a fight. When the guards uncuff you to strap you to this big dentist looking chair, you manage to get out of the grasp of the guard, swinging a punch on him but this newfound advantage is short lived, as the other guard quickly grabs your arms and pushes you against the chair. You’re yelling and thrashing but they manage to get your arms and legs strapped down to the chair.

Your heartbeat is racing, and quietly, only in your mind, you beg. But not for mercy. Not from The Doctor. You beg Matt to come find you. Because you know that you do not stand a chance on your own, but maybe he could find you. He had to find you.

The Doctor sits in a chair next to you and holds up a small purple vial.

“This is hallucinogenic snake venom, mixed with a duller version of the serum we gave you. What this will do is allow me to go into your memories and alter them.” He explains as if you’re getting a simple procedure done. Tears fill your eyes.

“You’re going to make me forget him?” You ask, your voice breaking.

The Doctor hushes you softly, wiping your tears softly.

“Oh, no, little doe. I’m going to change what you do remember about him to make you hate him.”

• • •

Six months is a long time to be without your wife. For anyone, no matter who it is.

For Matt Murdock, it’s absolute torture. He spends all day half paying attention to his work while trying to research who The Doctor is. He spends all night trying to find you.

Frank lives, breathes, eats and sleeps to find you. He’s still technically a wanted man, so he pretty much stays under the radar as he looks for you. You remind him of a lot of guys he knew in the army, of himself.

Karen busies herself with research, looking through cases of old files at The Bulletin to try and see if there are any tips or stories that could maybe be connected to where you are. She gets about as little sleep as Matt.

And Foggy has the most important job of all.

Making sure Matt doesn’t kill himself in the process of trying to find you. Because for the first two months Matt didn’t sleep, hardly ate. And as he deteriorated, Foggy reminded him that to find you, he’d need to stay alive. He needs to shower, he needs to keep going to church, he needs to keep eating. The thought of hearing your heartbeat again keeps him going.

It’s as they’re packing up to go home one night that Frank comes into the office with blood-stained hands. They all know he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have something, so Karen asks first.

“What? What is it?”

“Buddy of mine found a file. Some private medicinal corporation funding a project for some sort of doctor doing cancer research, upstate.”

The location peaks Matt’s interest, because one of the few things he knows of your first experience is that the lab was in upstate New York.

“Okay, but—” Karen starts, but Frank hands her the file.

“Report shows the guy had scales.” He told her. “And I don’t know what you guys make of that but sounds to me like a side effect similar to the serum that was given to her.”

“Where?” Matt asks.

“Red, just—”

“Give me a god damn address, Frank.” He demands.

“I’ll drive you. Come on, things are probably gonna get wild and I don’t want you going alone.” He told him. Matt agrees, but only because he knows he can’t drive and would wind up walking to you.

“Then let’s go.” Before Frank can argue, Matt is walking out the door and going to get suited up for the journey ahead.

• • •

Daredevil is my enemy.

Matt Murdock hates me.

I hate him.

We were never really in love with each other.

These are the thoughts that echo through your mind as you wait for your next round of testing. The six-month mark is pivotal, The Doctor tells you time and time again.

Overall, you’ve made tremendous progress. He tells you that within weeks, other serums will be ready to test on new subjects. Maybe then, he tells you, he’ll promote you from just being a soldier.

Maybe.

You almost don’t hear the alarm going off somewhere in the distance. Of course, you don’t. The serum has never helped your hearing.

The way you remember it, Daredevil, a man who once claimed to love you, fought you to the point that he destroyed the nerves in your hands, destroyed your hearing. It’s fuzzy now, but you know this: The Doctor helped you. He put you back together.

But you do hear the alarm, eventually. It concerns you; it means someone has broken into the building. Your thoughts linger on the masked vigilante that haunts your nightmare. You’re getting stronger to defeat him, The Doctor says.

It’s a cool summer night when whoever it is broke in, breaks down your door. You immediately stand, quickly identifying Frank Castle, a grin breaking across your face. Closely behind, you identify a man in red.

Your heartbeat races, but you just stare at the pair.

Matt strips off his helmet and approaches you, wanting to make sure this was real. That you were real. His hands find your cheeks, and tears fill his eyes. He says your name gently.

“I found you, I’ve got you…”

You blink, unsure of what sort of cruel teasing that was.

Because in an instant, your glare hardens and you’re pushing him against a wall, starting to throw punches at him. He’s too far in shock to react, but Frank is pulling you off of him, and you’re struggling against him.

“Let me go! I need to kill him! He’s evil, he needs to die!” You cry, and Matt is just saying your name softly, in absolute disarray. What had they done to you, his sweet girl?

Frank pins you down to the ground, unsure of why you, a woman he had perceived to be so in love with the man behind him, are so adamant that he dies.

“Enough, Enough!” He barks, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at Matt. “That is your husband, girl. Stop acting like he’s torturing you when he is not the one whose been experimenting on you for six months!”

“Let me go, I need him gone! He’s cruel, He’s a monster!” You cry, and Matt has started crying. Putting you both out of your misery, Frank hits you in a way that knocks you right out. Matt goes over to your now unconscious form and pets your hair.

“Why was she—”

“I don’t know.. I just don’t know, red. Let’s get her out of here to figure it out, okay?” Matt just nods and grabs his helmet, slipping it on so Frank can’t see him crying anymore.

• • •

If you had a nickel for every time you woke up tied to a chair, you’d have more nickels than you had fingers.

Today is no different.

You’re surrounded by people you don’t recognize. And one you do. Your angry glare stays on him, and he looks upset by it.

You’re unsure why. You’re so sure he just wanted you dead.

The blonde woman in front of you says your name softly. When your gaze shifts to her, you notice her soft eyes.

“How do you know my name?” You ask.

She frowns.

“It—Because we’re good friends.”

“I don’t know you.”

“You don’t… My name is Karen.” She says softly. She goes over to a nearby shelf, pulling out a picture frame and showing it to you. “Here, that’s you and me. At your wedding.”

“My wedding? The one that he set up just to hurt me?”

Matt remembers you telling him that you had never been happier than when you were getting ready for your wedding.

There’s two other men, one held you down while you were meant to kill Matt, but the other one.. You vaguely remember him standing next to Matt when you got married.

He speaks next.

“Matt and Frank, they found these vials in one of the labs. We think the man that took you used it to... to alter your memories.”

“Why would The Doctor do that? He helped me.” You tell them, unsure what to make of this whole situation. Matt is growing extremely frustrated because he knows just how scared you were of that monster.

“Untie her.” Matt tells Frank, and everyone looks at him like he’s crazy. Including you because you know that you’ll just try and kill him. “Do it,” he tells him again and very hesitantly, Frank does untie you. When you’re free from the rope, you step forward to go towards Matt, but Frank grabs your arm.

“Don’t,” he says. But then, Matt reaches for Frank’s gun on the nearby table and hands it to you. Odd choice for a man you want to kill.

“Go ahead.” He tells you, facing you now. “Shoot me, kill me if that’s what you really want to do.” He says. You stare at the gun in your hand for a second, before holding it properly and aiming it at Matt. Everyone waits with bated breath to see what you’ll do.

Pull the trigger, you tell yourself, The Doctor’s voice echoing around your head. He hurt you, the voice says. He needs to die.

And yet, you just stare at the man on the other end of the gun, trying to build up the courage to kill him. To kill the man that for months you have been taught needs to die. That you have memories of hurting you, of maiming you.

Your hand tremors as tears fill your eyes, until you eventually drop your arm, so the gun isn’t pointing at him anymore.

“Look at the photo of you and Karen,” Matt tells you, “You have hearing aids in the photo. I didn’t do that to you, you got into a bad accident, you got sick and that’s how you lost your hearing. I had nothing to do with that. You even had your powers before me, you didn’t just get them in the past six months. The Doctor is an evil man who just wanted to torture people and turn them into science experiments.” He tells you, and you want to tell him to stop, that it’s not true. But something in you tells you not to. “I love you,” he says gently, and you flinch away from him when he says this.

It breaks his heart into a million pieces. Absolutely shatters it.

“I don’t know you.” You tell him.

Sensing that Matt doesn’t know what to say to that, Frank steps forward.

“Hey. I’m Frank, you remember me?”

“You pinned me down when you found me.” He sighs softly.

“Yeah, well.. You have memories of when the two of you got married, right? So those are real memories… What about the ones of him hurting you? Do they look any different?”

You take a moment to close your eyes and really focus on the memory you have so closely attached to the man in red. They’re.. Filmy. Like they have a filter on them or like glass shimmering in the sun.

Tears fall from your eyes as you open them, your hand quickly coming up to wipe your tears.

“I think we did enough for now.. She needs to rest.” The man whose name you don’t know, but he has this shaggy blonde hair. Then this question comes up in everyone’s mind—Where will you stay?

“I’ll take the couch,” Matt says, “You take the bed.” You don’t know how comfortable you are with being alone with Matt in this apartment, even if the memories are fake. They feel pretty real.

“I don’t know if—” Karen starts.

“I.. It’s fine..” you say softly, and that fills Matt with a fraction of hope. “It’s just over night.”

Frank sighs softly, taking his gun off the table and glancing at Matt.

“We’re only a phone call away, alright?” Karen tells him.

It feels sort of awkward that they only talk to him as if you can’t hear them. Well, you can’t hear them very well, but you can hear.

“There’s clothes for you in the bedroom,” Matt tells you, “Go take a shower and I’ll walk them to the door.” Very reluctant to turn your back on Matt, you make your way to the bedroom to gather your clothes and go to shower.

You really haven’t had a good shower in six months, so it’s nice to wash the dirt off your skin and from beneath your fingernails. You spend a long time under the hot shower, letting it burn your skin. Your whole life has been turned upside down because you’re slowly coming to terms with the fact that Matt Murdock isn’t your sworn enemy, and that maybe.. he just.. does like you..

Meanwhile, Matt walks the others out, or at least to the door, hesitant to go too far from you.

Foggy glances back to him before he leaves, curiously.

“How did you know she wouldn’t shoot you?”

He hesitates.

“I didn’t.” he says softly. “I just trusted that somewhere within her, my wife still loves me.”

• • •

Later that night, you stare out the window of his apartment at that bright billboard. You gaze at it curiously, and hear Matt call your name gently behind you. In his hands, he holds your hearing aids.

You put them on, and just look at him for a few minutes.

“You kept them?”

“I never stopped looking for you..” He told you. “I prayed every night hoping to hear your heartbeat again.” He tells you, and you don’t know what to make of it. He seems so devoted to you, yet you have these memories of him beating you until you’re close to death.

“I’m sorry I can’t be in love with you the way you want me to be.”

He shrugs gently.

“In sickness and in health, right?”

“And in torture and memory alteration.”

“Same thing.”

For the first time in six months, you smile.

Maybe your husband isn’t such a bad guy.

You can only hope he’ll love you long enough for you to get your shit together and not want to kill him anymore.

• • •

Memories are a tricky thing.

You decide to spend your days with Frank, hunting down various people who worked with The Doctor. You talk a lot about your memories with him. And no matter what, at the end of the day, you have dinner with Matt.

One night, he brings home Thai Food.

“We had this for our first date,” he recalls. “You got pad Thai, your favorite.” You try to recall the memory.

“You wore a nice blue button up, right?” You say softly. He smiles gently and nods.

“Yeah. I did.” He says gently.

“Can..” You hesitate. “Can you tell me more about it? Our life together? I can’t.. discern between what’s real and fabricated.” You’re making new memories, sure, but you know he misses the life the two of you had together.

But he’s caught off guard by your request. For the past few weeks, you’ve been hesitant to indulge in any memories you think might be real.

“You used to work for me.” He tells you. “Not in a weird way, but our office is small. We fell in love over Thai food and opening statements.”

“Why did you want to marry me?”

He hesitates for a second, not wanting to scare you off.

“Because I love you.” He tells you. “Because when you were with me, it was the closest thing I’d ever knew to peace.” He confesses.

“Oh..”

“Yeah.” He takes another bite of his food. “You know if you have a memory and you don’t know if it’s real, you can always ask.”

You smile softly.

“Thanks.” There’s a soft silence that fills the room before you ask, “I have this memory of us in bed, with you running your hand through my hair.. Your fingers tracing these antlers I have.. Is that real?”

“Yeah, it is..” He promised. “I have a thing about textures and your hair is soft.”

“I’m glad.” You smile. This is nice. This gentleness that’s between you. It’s a softness you aren’t used to, one that you don’t know if you’d ever quite get used to.

Later that night, when you were meant to be fast asleep, you wake up with a startling gasp in bed. You look around panicked. You don’t quite know who you’re looking for..

Until Matt comes into the room, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and this calmness washes over you.

“Yeah..”

“Okay. Okay, good, I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He says softly. He’s been so good to you, sleeping on the couch for so many weeks. He goes to leave, but you call out to him. He turns back to you.

“Can you stay with me?” You ask.

“Yeah, of course.” He says softly, climbing into bed with you. You think for a second, before shifting a bit, resting your head against his chest. You listen to the gentle thud of his heartbeat, as his hand finds your back, gently rubbing up and down. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He isn’t dumb—He knows you have nightmares. And that on the nights that you do, you’re quieter and more avoidant of him. It’s a bad habit, one you want to break. Because you recognize that your dreams aren’t real.

Matt has never done anything to you, and you’re sure of this.. For the most part. Sometimes when you wake up, you must reorient yourself and remind yourself that Matt has no malicious intent towards you and no reason to hurt you.

But it takes you a few minutes to accomplish this. On those mornings, you tend to keep your distance from him, and because Matt wants nothing but your happiness, he stays away from you. But tea is always placed in front of you, and he never strays far from you.

“Not really.” You finally answer. There’s another beat of silence. “We went as the couple from The Princess Bride for our first Halloween together.. Real or not real?”

“Real.” He confirms.

“You broke my nose once during an argument. Real or not real?”

“Not real.” He tells you. “I would never hurt you. Even when we used to fight at the gym, it was always for practice, never to do actual damage. And when we would spar, it would always end with us going home and taking a hot bath.”

You close your eyes, trying to recall that particular memory. When you find it, your face flushes with this unfamiliar heat.

“You’re still trying to protect me even though I wanted you dead... Real or not real?”

“Real.” He doesn’t even hesitate. He’s not sure if you’ve realized it yet, but he’d rather die than put you anywhere close to being in danger. His hand continues to trace patterns into your skin, as you think about his response.

You fall asleep like this, close to the man who you’re realizing has never intended to hurt you a day in your life.

• • •

The day you realize you’re in love with your husband is horrifying.

Which seems like a crazy accusation to make, and yet, you feel nothing but horror when you realize that you are desperate for him. Which is insane, because you’ve been living with him for two months when you realize you are desperate to kiss him like you’re drowning and need air.

It happens at the office. You decided to cook, because you remember really liking it, and to say thank you for all he’s done for you, you want to bring lunch to Matt at work. So you make this really delicious chicken pesto pasta, and you pick up sodas to go along with it. Matt gets the following text:

‘Your favorite soda is Dr. Pepper. Real or not real?’

Five minutes later, you get a response.

‘Real. Yours is sprite.’

You pick up a bottle of each and head over to his office. You’ve been there a few times before, but mostly it was because Frank needed to talk to Karen about something, but lately you’ve found yourself wanting to go to the office just to see Matt.

Matt is surprised when he hears the familiar beat of your heart on the other side of the door. He can also hear the slight buzz of your hearing aids.

“Sweetheart, you can come in.” He calls, but you hesitate even further. Not because you’re confused as to why he knows it’s you, but because your brain sort of short circuits when he calls you the pet name. But after a few minutes, you walk into the room and place lunch on his desk, as well with your drinks.

“Do you like pesto?”

“We had pesto pasta at our wedding.” Oh.

“So you do?”

“Yeah, I do. Especially the way you make it.”

“Oh, good.” You smile and sit at the chair on the other side of the desk. “Because I made chicken pesto pasta for lunch and figured you might want some.”

“Well, thank you for thinking of me.”

There’s a quiet calm between the two of you.

“This is a pretty killer first date, huh?” This makes Matt laugh, because in his mind, your first date was eating Thai food and listening to music. But this isn’t bad either.

“Well, Chivalry must be dead then, because I didn’t even buy you flowers.” He hums, and you tilt your head.

“I don’t remember you ever buying me flowers.” He frowns at this.

“Well, I’m going to have to fix that.”

And that’s how the afternoon goes. You sit with Matt in his office, eating a homemade chicken pasta and falling in love with him. As you go to leave, he asks you what you have planned for the day.

“I have some errands to run, but I should be home to make dinner.” And for a moment, Matt forgets all that’s happened, and he lets himself believe that you have all your memories of him perfectly intact and no one’s ever made you think otherwise.

You get back to the apartment a few hours later, and just as you’re unpacking your groceries, there’s a knock at the door. When you open it, a delivery man stands with a bouquet of flowers. Your face is warm as you sign off on them.

As you put them in their vase, you notice a note attached to it. You catch yourself grinning as you read his little note, that reads ‘I’ll buy you flowers until I’m old and wrinkly. Real.’

The urge to run back to the office and kiss him overwhelms you.

So you call Frank.

This leads to the pair of you, sitting at a booth in a diner, nursing coffees and toast.

“I hope you didn’t call me here just to complain about married life.” He tells you, making a joke out of the thing that terrifies you.

“No, I just wanted you to sit here talking to a chick with antlers so you can look like more of a freak than you already are.” You tease.

It gets you both laughing. These moments, in between all the nightmares and all of the filmy memories, fill you with a light you can’t quite describe.

“So, why’d you really call me to meet up?” He asks. “I have to assume you don’t just want to chitchat.”

“I think I’m in love with Matt.” You tell him. He raises an eyebrow.

“What? Why does that sound like you think it’s a problem?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” You confess. “It’s like I don’t want to love him, like a part of me still believes he’s the bad guy. I know he does.. Besides, I was so awful to him for so long. I pointed a gun at him and he still comforts me every night. What if I don’t deserve this?” You ask. “What if I don’t deserve him?”

Frank actually laughs—Okay, not like a giggle or a belly laugh, but it gets a good chuckle out of him.

“You and Red with that shit—Questioning if you’ve done enough for something good to happen to you. With the ‘Do I deserve this?’ and the ‘Am I worthy of this?” He shakes his head. “All that shit is irrelevant. Do you want it? Do you want to be with him?”

Tears fill your eyes as you realize what that means.

“You and him, you love each other like breathing, and I know you don’t quite get that yet, but it’s the same reason you didn’t shoot him that day. Something in you knows that you love him and deserve his love.” Frank is speaking from experience, because he knows that no matter what he’s done, he knows he deserves one more kiss from his wife.

But he’ll never get that chance.

He hopes Matt does.

• • •

It takes you a long time to make your way back to the apartment. When you get there, Matt immediately stands from his place on the couch and has this look of concern etched across his face.

“Is everything okay?” he asks gently, “Your heart is racing, I just want to make sure you’re safe and—"

“I’m fine.” You smile gently. “Really, I… Thank you for the flowers.” You tell him. His face softens.

“You like them?”

“I love them, Matt.” You confess. “I’ve spent.. So long trying to rationalize everything, sort out the real things from the things that aren’t..” You’re not too sure what you’re trying to say. “I just.. I want.. I want to try. I want to try and be with you, I’m ready for that. I’m ready to be happy with you..”

He hesitates. Not because he doesn’t want to, because he doesn’t want you, but he is worried that you’re only saying these things because you feel like you might owe him. You don’t. You don’t owe him anything other than what you want to give him, and he is desperate for you to know that.

“Sweetheart, You don’t.. I don’t need.. I don’t need you to pretend like you want me just because I’ve taken care of you. It’s more than enough to just—”

Matt is cut off by his first kiss from you in eight months. Your hands rest on the sides of his cheeks, and his arms are quickly around your torso. The kiss is passionate but soft at first—Until you push deeper, desperate to be as close as you can to him. Your hand even comes up to pull off his glasses to see his eyes.

Without thinking, you pull away from him only for your hand to come down to the hem of his shirt, going to pull it off.

“Off, off, off, off—” You softly request, and he just laughs, taking your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Stop. Wait.” He says gently. “I just.. I want to make sure you actually want this.. That you really want me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’ve been reserved for the past two months, rightfully so, but now you want to sleep with me.. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. Or something you do just because you feel lonely or bad that I—” You cut him off with another kiss, breaking it shortly after.

“I want you. I want to rebuild my life with you. I want to create new, untainted memories.. It won’t be easy, but I want to be with you.” You confess. “I want countless summer nights, I want you to be there for all the nightmares, I.. I want to give you the same peace you’ve been trying to give me.”

You’re both crying and you don’t quite know why. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold band. He slips it onto your fingers and kisses you again. He holds the hand with your wedding ring on it as he leads you into the bedroom. Into your life together. Into your arms. Where you were meant to be.

The next morning, you lay in the quiet of your apartment, the silk sheets tickling your skin. You focus on Matt’s breathing. He traces patterns into your skin.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, and he takes a moment to answer.

“You.” He says gently. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about for three years.” He says gently. Then, when you don’t say anything, “Our anniversary was two months ago..” You know he misses the life you could have had together.

The life that he had planned out for the pair of you in his head. The life that oh so quietly, he longs for. The one without nightmares, supplemented by the laughter of any potential children you might have.

“I could get used to thinking about you, too, you know.” And it makes him laugh, as you lean up and bite his shoulder gently, before placing a kiss to that same patch of skin. He swats your arm gently before the pair of you break down into giggles.

“In the future, if you ever.. don’t want to do that, you don’t have to.”

“I know.” You tell him.

A comfortable silence fills the air again.

“I’m so happy you came back to me.” He says gently. “I was.. I spent so long worried that.. that we’d spend years just trying to find our footing again. That you wouldn’t get better..” For the second time tonight, you cut off his overthinking with a kiss.

“I love you.” You tell him when you’re finally ready to pull away. The morning light shines into the apartment, giving Matt this glowing effect. He practically shimmers in the golden light, and you just take a moment to commit the look of him to memory.

You try and take your time, studying him. He’s so beautiful this time of day.

“Real or not real?” He asks you softly, as one hand snakes up to your hair, his fingers gently running through it.

You lean forward and place a soft kiss to his lips.

“Real.”

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pinkeoni · 10 months

Text

Oh. “Zombie Boy” is a homophobic nickname

I guess this should’ve been pretty obvious. I mean, Will is a confirmed gay character, who is walking around town and having a mean nickname constantly hurled at him. Clearly there is some queercoding in that.

But does that mean that the nickname is homophobic in universe? If that were the case, why not just call him homophobic slurs in the first place?

The nickname Zombie Boy always was kind of strange to me as well. Why make fun of a kid for coming back to life? Wouldn’t that be a cool thing? Maybe it’s a little odd, but why be so mean about it?

Unless it’s not the only thing they’re making fun of him for

TW for discussion of rape below cut

To understand the intent behind the Zombie Boy nickname, we need to go back to Will’s dissapearance in season one. Our boy Troy lays it out pretty plainly what everyone in town thinks happened to Will.

Not just that Will was killed, but clarified as “killed by some other queer.” The emphasis on sexuality adding an implication to his statement. What Troy is really trying to say is that Will was raped and then killed by a gay man, otherwise why bring up sexuality at all?

And to be fair to Troy, that is kind of what happened.

But of course the town doesn’t know this. The story that was told is that Will only got lost in the woods. That was the story published in the Hawkins Post, so that’s what everyone believes, right?

This is the version of events that Lucas tells Max, and he is immediately met with skepticism from her. Lucas then tells Max not to ask Will about it because he’s very sensitive about it.

I’m not saying that the town believes that there is something supernatural going on, but rather I’m thinking that the people of Hawkins at least suspect that there is something about Will’s disappearance that is not being talked about openly. Let’s not forget that the “Zombie Boy” note that Will receives in his locker is a desecration of the news article sharing his story.

So here’s what the town initially believed happened: Will was kidnapped and raped by a gay man before being thrown into the quarry.

And here’s what the town knows: Will went missing and was found in the woods before being hospitalized. He is very sensitive about the topic and doesn’t like to talk about it. After being released from the hospital, he is now occasionally pulled out of school early for doctor’s appointments—

Oh.

I mean, it is any coincidence that all of this is happening while Reagan’s name is plastered all over town? Is it just a coincidence that the anniversary of Will’s disappearance falls right on Reagan’s reelection day?

And just to cut through all the shit and stop being vague, I’m talking about the AIDS epidemic of the 80’s, and yes I think that part of the town believes that Will has it.

I recently read a post from @emblazons that struck me with just how laden the AIDS metaphor is in season. To quote the post as best I can, there is something described like a disease attacking Will’s body and slowly killing him, and the Reagan administration government scientists are trying their best to prevent the truth from spreading and view the possible death of a queer person as a non-issue.

Starting to think about it through this lens, a “zombie” is the perfect metaphor for how Hawkins now views Will. He isn’t technically dead, but they suspect he has a disease with an incredibly low life-expectancy at the time, so he’s essentially a walking corpse.

The nickname doesn’t start and end at simply making fun of Will for having a disease. What do zombies do? They try to bite and turn other people into zombies.

The town doesn’t just see Will as someone who has been infected by someone else with an illness, but as someone who has been infected and is going to spread his illness around.

The rhetoric regarding queers as people who spread disease and kill continues in season 4, when we see Eddie reading the article that links sodomy with satanic practices, violence and murder. We then go on to see the entire town blame Eddie and his group of “satanic” outcasts for spreading death in the town. This attitude is certainly not lost on Hawkins, and the show doesn’t shy away from showing it.

The way that characters in the show use and react to Zombie Boy match this as well. There is a certain level of vitriol that comes with Zombie Boy, and the nickname is what leads Jonathan and Will into their extremely coded conversation about being a freak.

If Zombie Boy is an intentionally homophobic nickname, then does that mean that in this scene she's actually saying...?

So I actually don’t think that Snowball Girl is being intentionally homophobic here (although, saying what is essentially “Hey f*****, wanna dance?” is still CRAZY)

I think it’s less realistic if the entire town is in on this conspiracy and more believable if say, the nickname was started intentionally as a homophobic jab by some of the townsfolk, but is ambiguous enough to be picked up by more naïve kids like Snowball Girl who may not realize the actual meaning behind it. It may seem like it’s only about his ressurection on the surface, but when you peel back the layers you see just how offensive it really is.

Using a vague nickname is also very intentional by the Duffers as well. If they wanted to be subtle about Will’s sexuality before later confirming it, then having a more ambiguous moniker rather than just having the entire town call him an evil queer.

Even if the town really is just making fun of him for coming back to life and nothing else, and there isn’t actually this rampant rumor spreading across Hawkins about Will spreading disease, the heavy coding and intention from the writers is still be there.

#also not mentioned but note: those girls staring at Will as he is leaving for his doctors appointment #even if it is purely metaphor #its still a metaphor for homophobia!#will byers #stranger things #byler #<- target audience #tw rape

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t0rturedangel · 3 months

Note

if it's not much, some yandere jekyll and/or hyde hc's? can be both sfw and/or nsfw 🤭 anyways take care

╭ . . . 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 ੭

𝐃𝐑 𝐉𝐄𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐑 𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐄 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ➤ 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘴

❏ warnings : love-sick ('yandere') themes, dark themes, a Victorian doctor, mentions of torture, mentions of blood, murder, Hyde.

I have SOOOO many requests LOL, and i got so much homework- this shit is more important- ILY MY LOVELIES

✩ ⊱ Jekyll likes to think that he's the gentler, sweeter and more loving version of the two (technically one) men obsessed with you. he's not.

✩ ⊱ He's manipulative, and knows how to get his way with you- you try to leave? Why? do you hate him, do you want to see Hyde take control of him and never let the face of Jekyll be shown to the world ever again? You're the only thing that's keeping him in power.

✩ ⊱ He also, sometimes, has a brutal side to him too- if someone he doesn't approve of gets a bit to close to his lovely dear spouse (Either your parents arranged a marriage with Jekyll, for money obviously, or Jekyll had manipulated you to marry him) well he's just gained a new test subject- how sweet right? right?

✩ ⊱ Don't worry though, he'll save you from watching- he doesn't want to ruin your little head (anymore than he already has.)

✩ ⊱ Jekyll likes to believe that you're a pure little thing, how could you not be? He could only love someone as pure as you- dont even thing about how he's a terrible man- you dont need to at all! Just keep being you're little angelic self

✩ ⊱ unfortunately for you, Jekyll is a Victorian man (a doctor no less) so therefore he has the mentality of one too, i hope you can see what I'm trying to say

✩ ⊱ Jekyll views you as his property is what I'm trying to say, right? I know it sounds horrible and it is, but that's his mentality- I am not going to sugar coat this for you, my lovelies

✩ ⊱ Don't worry though! Jekyll does have his sweet moments, on some occasions he'll let you roam the house! Though the servants will either be busy or away from you, after all who needs to see them, hm? all you need is him!

✩ ⊱ The doctor is deadly scared of loosing you, to either death, or someone else so therefore, he locks you up in a lovely little room he had made and decorated for you- the walls are your favorite colours, he got all the decorations he knew you would love, makes sure the room is constantly clean and you have a lovely large bed the two of you sleep in (whenever Jekyll is not busy, and is not Hyde- though Hyde will also visit you) though you are shackled, again he doesnt want you to leave

✩ ⊱ Hyde, on the other hand, is some how more gentler- though he's a monster, he's artificially made his soul is full of nothing but hate and rage but somehow he never lays a hand on you

✩ ⊱ He, actually doesn't to much to you. Sometimes he'll only sit on a chair in your room and just stare at you- sometimes he smiles at you (or what seems to be a smile) which is either more horrific or sweeter than what Jekyll does.

✩ ⊱ Sometimes Hyde loves to sit next to you, and let you rest against him, he'll also play with your hand or hair, if it's your hand it will be near the shackle so your aching skin could have at least some relief- you're the only person he will ever be gentle with.

✩ ⊱ Whenever he knows Jekyll is not mentally there, he'll let you out of your room and take you outside (in the night of course- there's less people, and much like Jekyll, Hyde hates having people any closer to you than at least a street away) and show you around, sometimes you'll be lucky and he'll take you to his house.

✩ ⊱ Hyde can cook, shocking I know- but he loves to cook for you whenever he can, and hey- it keeps you full and Jekyll never knows.

✩ ⊱ Unlike Jekyll, Hyde (despite loving you so much) does not really care if you saw something horrific, it just means you'll see what he's capable of, how much he's willing to protect you and how much blood he can shed.

✩ ⊱ though don't you EVER think, EVERRRRR that he'll lay a hand on you, he may be evil but he'll never do that, no Jekyll does that (sometimes, after he's sob and beg for your forgiveness)

✩ ⊱ Overall, yeah no, I beg- do not fall for this man (men?) your life will not look so pretty but they'll love you, at least they'll tell you that they do.

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graysonswonder · 7 months

Text

Say My Name

pairing: dick grayson x fem!reader

word count: 1,417

warnings: slight angst if you squint? mentions of sex

summary: where dick is the reader’s ex and they went on a date with Jason that ended rather awkwardly…

minors dni !!

“Go away, Dick!”

Her demand is followed by the harsh slam of her bedroom door, which stops the young man in his tracks. Dick lets out an exasperated sigh before resting his head against the door and giving it three light knocks.

“Y/n—”

He’s cut off by a soft thud from what he can only assume is a pillow that she has thrown at the door. Dick rolls his eyes.

“I said go away. I don’t want to talk about it,” she yells from where she lays in her bed, hoping for it to swallow her whole.

“Y/n, we’re friends. You can talk to me about this.”

But that’s the very thing. She can’t talk to him about this. Or rather she won’t. Having a discussion with her ex boyfriend about her failed date with his brother certainly was not on her bingo card for this year. She’s not at all surprised that he wants to know the details. For her to explain what went wrong. She can practically hear the smug look on his face as he pleas for her to open the door.

She wants to vomit.

“I’m not telling you how my date with Jason went.”

“It’s obvious that you’re upset. If you just—”

Y/n groans loudly over the rest of his words. She’s in no mood to hear them, nor does she want to pretend to be. “Yes, I’m upset. Which is why I’d like for you to drop it, and please leave.”

She doesn’t enjoy being so short with him. He’s right. They are friends. Best friends even. At least they were before they became a couple, and to this day she still feels like Dick’s the only person in the world who truly understands her. Who truly sees her. Faults and all.

It was actually her idea to stay friends after things ended, and even though Dick agreed, she could tell he was still torn up over everything. The split was relatively mutual but completely amicable. There weren’t really any hard feelings. They both had a lot on their plate that seemed to be getting in the way of the two of them moving their relationship forward. Dick had started a new Titans team on top of still being the one trying to hold his family together, and Y/n was starting her doctorate program.

The timing just wasn’t right. And why she decided to go on a date with Jason? She has no idea. Maybe it was a lame attempt at trying to move on and get out there and see other people. Granted, other people probably shouldn’t have been Dick’s brother. Or maybe she was trying to mask residual feelings that she still has.

Either way, it didn’t go well for her.

“I’m fine, Dick. You don’t have to worry about me,” she says after she can still hear him breathing on the other side of her door.

She stares up at her ceiling. She watches as the blades of her ceiling fan spin around and around, and she counts the seconds it takes until Dick says something again.

“Y/n?”

It’s twenty.

“Dick,” she sighs.

“Baby, I—” he begins, but immediately stops as he catches himself calling her the pet name he’d use whenever he was being gentle with her. It still slips out so easily. “Listen, I’m not trying to pry. It’s just…this could be my fault, and I want to explain and apologize.”

Her door suddenly flies open, and she stands right in front of him frowning. “What do you mean this is your fault?”

She studies him for a second, waiting to hear his response. What happened with Jason wasn’t his fault. Not technically anyway, but Dick still doesn’t have any of the blame to shoulder. Still, she’s curious as to what he has to say.

“Well…um…you see…the thing is…”

Oh my god, Richard. Please just spit it out, she thinks.

“I might have intentionally given Jason bad advice to ruin your date.”

Y/n quirks a brow. “Like what?”

Dick’s eyes shift around. “Um, like telling him not to take you anywhere nice because you don’t like fancy places. And I told him to be mean because that turns you on,” he confesses, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. He can barely look at her.

Y/n starts to grin, then she’s tilting her head back and full on laughing. Loudly. Uncontrollably. She’s clutching her stomach while Dick is looking at her like she’s crazy.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh,” she says between hiccups of laughter. “I really don’t. That’s just the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Dick smirks a little too, but conceals his laughter. He shoves his hands in his pockets and waits for her to collect herself. Y/n can tell he’s been beating himself up over that. She doesn’t mean to laugh so crudely in his face, but she does find it cute that he was jealous.

“Dick, Jason took me to that little French restaurant downtown,” she tells him once she catches a breath.

“He did?”

She nods. “Yeah, he did. He wore a suit and everything. He wasn’t mean to me at all either, so it’s safe to say he didn’t take your advice.”

Dick’s brows knit together, and Y/n can see the gears beginning to grind in his head. “So you two had a good time then?” He asks, but Y/n knows that isn’t what he really wants an answer about.

“It went alright until…”

“Until?” Dick coaxes.

Y/n shrugs, leaning her weight against the doorframe. “Until things moved to the bedroom.”

There’s a pinched expression on Dick’s face. It’s clear he wants to ask but also isn’t sure he actually wants to know.

“So—”

“We didn’t have sex,” she quickly tells him, and she visibly sees him relax a little. “We were going to. We probably would have if we hadn’t been making out and he said “Mmm, Y/n” and I said “Mmm, Dick” when I was supposed to say his name.”

Dick’s pupils become the size of the moon. “Wait you what?”

“You heard me.”

Dick starts to smirk, and a part of Y/n wants to slam the door in his face again. “Stop it,” she says.

“Stop what?” He feigns innocence.

“It’s not what you think.”

Actually, it’s probably exactly what he thinks. But she isn’t going to so easily admit that.

“Oh, so what am I supposed to think then? That you obviously aren’t still in love with me?”

She folds her arms across her chest, rolling her eyes at him in the process. “Get out of my apartment, Richard.”

“No, no, no. I’m not leaving until you admit that you’re still in love with me,” he says, mirroring the way she’s standing.

She looks at him. Really looks at him. Allows herself a moment to drink all of him in. There’s something swimming in those gorgeous blue eyes of his as he’s looking right back at her, and she recognizes that it’s hope. He’s hoping that she’ll tell him how she truly feels because maybe then he can finally be happy like he was.

She takes a deep breath. “Isn’t it obvious? In the heat of the moment, I said your name.”

“Uh-uh,” Dick tuts. “I wanna hear you say it.”

She desperately wants to slap that smirk off his face. “Fine,” she huffs, “Dick Grayson, after all these miserable months apart, I am still in love with you.”

“Thank you. That’s all I needed to hear,” he says, before he suddenly walks right past her. He grabs hold of her wrist and leads her back into her bedroom.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

Dick guides the two of them over to her bed where he takes a seat and pulls her onto his lap. She straddles him and wraps her arms around his neck while his hands rest on her waist, giving both sides a subtle squeeze.

He can feel wisps of her breath across his cheeks as he says, “I’m still in love with you too.”

“Okay,” she says, nudging his nose with her own, “but what are you doing?”

Dick then flips the two of them over, catching her by surprise as he leans down to leave a trail of kisses up the side of her neck and jaw. A small moan betrays her mouth, and it’s music to Dick’s ears as he slips a hand under her shirt, his fingers dancing lightly over her soft skin.

God he’s missed her.

“We are getting back together,” he tells her, then leans in close to her ear, “and I am going to make you say my name again.”

#my writing #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #nightwing #dick grayson fic #nightwing x reader #nightwing fic #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson imagine

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nat-20s · 3 months

Text

mini-fic time!!!

(all of these r also posted on ao3 lol)

Donna and The Doctor share a discussion about Christmas

~*~

It’s during one of their many little late night chats that the subject comes up. It even happens organically, Donna noting the soft glow of the fairy lights pinned about that were, technically speaking, Christmas lights, and how the entire family had apparently conceded to this being a year round fixture. Of course, instead of focusing on the noble-temple-mott-doctor clan’s terrible consistency with interior decorating, the Doctor throws on a downright cheeky grin and asks, “So. You still hate Christmas?”

She knows the answer he’s expecting. After all, this year’s event was, perhaps, ‘lovely” and ‘joyful’ and ‘bringing tears to her eyes a few times, don’t mention it’. But. Still. Eh?She grimaces and sucks in a breath through her teeth, which is enough for The Doctor to throw the non-mug holding arm in the air and ask slightly too loud, “Seriously?”

Donna shrugs and hides her face behind her mug. “I mean…”

The Doctor blinks at her a few times, and as she has no desire to provide further details, he replies, “Huh. Really? Ialways sort of assumed that, well. You didn’t like Christmas because you had mostly bad ones?”

“What, no.I had loadsof happy Christmases. Hell, there was a good ten years where it was the only day me and mum were actually nice to each other. I just don’t really care for it. I mean, sure, there’s...parts I like, I guess. I like the lights, some of the songs are okayish, and don’t get me wrong, I have loads of fun getting to spoil Rose rotten each year but. I dunno, it’s all a bit, ugh,you know?”

When she gets a downright agog expression in exchange for her statement, she can’t help but snort. “Why the hell do you even care? I can’t imagine that Time Lords are all that arsed about Christianity, and, by the way, if you tell me that you were Christ, I’m gonna tell you fuck off, no you weren’t.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Obviously.”

“Was one of the disciples though.”

“Fuck off, no you weren’t.”

The Doctor stares at her very, very intensely, giving away nothing. For all of about 3 seconds, when his nose wrinkles up in amusement and he waves a hand. “No, I wasn’t. I’m not sure I even know all their names. Think I have some reindeer mixed up with them. On Dasher, on Dancer, on Donny, on Simon, or something like that.”

Donna manages to just roll her eyes rather than enjoy the goof, because he is derailing the conversation, again. “So my point stands. What’s your big thing about Christmas?”

After a hum and a shrug, The Doctor replies, “Oh, it’s not just Christmas. Purim, Holi, Lunar New Year, hell, I adore a good Arbor Day.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s..”

The Doctor looks to the side for a second, in that non-targeted way that Donna knows means he’s trying to remember something. She takes a sip from her cocoa and practices some of her hard won patience.

With a soft hum, The Doctor finally comes back to the present and tells her, “It’s not that Gallifrey never had holidays, of sorts. But they were all very traditional and very serious and very dour. It was all ceremony and diligence and respect, not,” he nods towards the Christmas tree, “fairy lights and colored powders and silly costumes.”

Grinning now, he continues, “You know, in all the lifetimes I’ve lived and all the species I’ve met, humans are utterly unparalleled in their ability to have fun. For all your lots’ faults, of which there are many-”

“-yes, thank you-”

“-nobody celebrates like a human. Any excuse, even the basic, or, ah, often not so basic, act of survival, and you’ll start singing and eating and dancing. You have such a capacity for joy it will leak from you. Happy crying, who the hell does that?”

“Hold on, I’ve seen you do that. Three times in as many days when you first got here.”

Tilting his head in acknowledgment, he counters, “Ah, but that’s only because of the company I keep. Your laughter is infectious, literally, in the year 16,000 it gets classified as a dangerous contagion.I mean, honestly, you lot could make a Dalek snicker. It’s...it’s incredible. There’s genuinely like nothing else in the universe, and, well, I can’t help but be charmed by Christmas as a small sliver of all that relentless joy.”

After a half second pause, he adds, “Plus, yes, the lights are quite pretty.”

Donna can’t quite contain a smile, replying, “I suppose I could see the appeal of it. Through that lens.”

The Doctor grins back at her, and they let themselves sit in a companionable silence. After a minute of simply letting themselves be, and polishing off the last dregs of their cocoa, Donna tells him, “Still can’t fucking stand ‘Wonderful Christmastime’ though.”

Hearing the burst of laughter that comes from The Doctor, Donna can’t help but silently agree with him. She thinks it’s not so bad being infectious, when that infection is joy.

#doctor who #tennant doctor #fourteenth doctor #donna noble #my fic #EHEHEHEHE #this isn't a christmas fic it's just. talking about it lmao

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jessicas-pi · 5 months

Text

ok look i need to elaborate on the Satine Accidentally Creates A Mandalorian Empire (also adopts people) AU because once i start talking i can't stop.

This all starts because Satine isn't searched thoroughly enough when she's captured by Death Watch. Because a pacifist Duchess wouldn't carry any weapons, right?

Wrong! Just because she's a pacifist doesn't mean she won't defend herself, remember? It just so happens that she carries a deactivator pistol, which shoots energy blasts capable of taking out droids, and it also just so happens that Death Watch's new leader is part droid.

Satine disables Maul's legs moments before she would have been impaled.

Bo-Katan tries not to cackle as she informs Satine that she is technically the new owner of the Darksaber. In any other situation, Bo would be furious, but the irony of it is just too much.

Anyway, time skip ahead. Satine is trying to maintain Mandalore's neutrality in the war while also keeping the Nite Owls on a metaphorical backpack leash and negotiating with the remaining Mauldalorians. She refuses to carry the Darksaber, so Bo puts it in storage with Satine's old armor. (The Ahsoka-on-Mandalore arc doesn't happen, FYI.) Then, they get news of the whole Empire deal. The Death Watch Mandalorians try to throw a party at the news of Order 66.

Then Obi-Wan shows up on their doorstep with a heavily pregnant senator and a little girl.

Padme is brought to a medcenter for treatment, and with better care, she survives the birth of her children.

But more important than that is Reva Sevander.

Because in this universe, Obi-Wan sensed one single light in the darkness of the temple, and lifted the trembling girl from the pile of bodies she'd hidden herself in. Obi-Wan takes her to Mandalore along with Padme. A Mandalorian doctor treats her wounds as she breaks down, sobbing out the truth of what happened.

Soon enough, rumors are flying from Mandalorian to Mandalorian, murmuring that the Jedi children were slaughtered too.

Some warrior Mandalorians hate Jedi more than they love children. Most of them love children more than they hate Jedi.

They nearly start another civil war over which one of the clans should be allowed to adopt the jet'ika girl. Finally, Satine steps in, proclaiming that this fighting is only hurting Initiate Sevander, and that the child will be Satine's personal ward.

Word gets out.

Vader sends his first Inquisitor on a mission to kill the Initiate and any Mandalorians who dare to defy the Empire's orders.

Bo-Katan sends the Inquisitor back in several pieces.

(The Empire decides to hold off on attacking Mandalore just yet.)

Anyway, Vader isn't the only one to hear about Satine adopting a Jedi girl. Word spreads to others.

Ahsoka comes first, dragging a tied-up clone Captain and demanding the use of a medcenter immediately. A few weeks later, Kelleran Beq and Grogu arrive. Caleb Dume follows, too weary to be afraid of what could happen to him.

Mandalore--which is nearly next door to Dathomir--picks up a distress signal that nobody else could have. Bo-Katan and squad of Nite Owls (including their newest recruit, Ahsoka) investigate, and they bring home a ragged Jedi and a little girl. Satine, who will never regret helping the Jedi but has been getting severe stress headaches at the number of floating objects in her life, nearly breaks down in tears when she hears the Dathomirian child excitedly discussing the undead with their newest Jedi rescue, a redhead boy who won't explain why he refuses to take off his gloves. She didn't sign up for this she didn't sign up for this she didn't sign up for this--

It doesn't stop her from taking in each new Jet'ika they find. The Sundari palace is full of younglings, and while Bo-Katan complains about it frequently, she's having so much fun as the wine aunt to two dozen miniature Jedi (and she even encourages her Nite Owls to listen for rumors of surviving Jedi and rescue them).

(Ahsoka becomes the unofficial go-to babysitter for Sabine and Tristan, and while I'm not a fan of Force-sensitive Sabine in canon, the hilarity of it in this AU is too much to pass up because imagine Ursa's face when Ahsoka breaks it to her that so um just FYI your daughter has space magic.)

Okay, enough about the Jedi (for now.) On to the war against the Empire!

So, Satine has been facing a lot of moral dilemmas, including what do you do when your enemies are evil and they're attacking your borders and they really can't be reasoned with? and she's solved most of them by giving Bo-Katan begrudging permission to "handle it." She's made it very clear that civilian casualties are absolutely unacceptable, and Bo-Katan huffs and says fiiiiine.

But then a nearby planet besieged by the Empire sends a plea for help. What can Satine do? Refusing goes against everything she stands for, but this would be a counterattack by Mandalore, not just self-defense!

In the end, there's no other answer. She sends the Nite Owls (and a Jedi who volunteered) to help the people and hopes that will be the end of it. She has her hands full already just trying to protect Mandalore!

But it happens again. And again. Satine still refuses to start a war against the Empire.

That changes when Sundari itself is full-on attacked.

Now, here's the thing about Satine.

She wasn't always peaceful.

It was the aftermath of the civil war--the destruction, the death, the needless suffering without a purpose, the fighting that she had been a part of--that made her a pacifist.

But when she runs to the palace window to look out at the city, listens to the bombs falling and the frantic comms from Bo-Katan's forces about the losing battle and the dying civilians, sees the Jedi rushing to shelter their children because one reason the Empire is here is to kill them, Satine remembers why she fought.

She spent fifteen years rebuilding Mandalore to be a peaceful, thriving society that no longer destroyed itself, and now someone else has come to burn it to the ground.

"Bring me my armor," she commands in a low, cold voice. "And the Darksaber."

The Empire is about to find out what happens when a pacifist goes to war.

#i will elaborate even further later as I didn't even get to the mandalorian empire part of this au #but i gotta go to work now so this will have to do for now #unwilling mand'alor satine AU #star wars #star wars au #satine kryze

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capcavan · 5 months

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If Riko hadn't been killed off, but he still had his broken arm, how do you feel his recovery and road (if possible) back onto the playing field would have been? How would Tetsuji have reacted to it?

Boy this really went in a direction as I wrote it

Considering the rules of aftg universe [Kevin whose hand been through meat grinder but could use it after few months without any physical therapy and being held together by duct tape ] Riko shouldn't have any issue healing from clean spot breaking of 2 bones in arm. Add to that the fact that Riko got professional care right after the breaking and as resident of cult i mean Nest he will have access to all resources needed to make safe and successful recovery. So depending if we want to use aftg law or real life law i think his recovery is possible it's just difference of ,, will he play in 2 months or in 6 months" With good diet and listening to his doctor, recovery and coming back to health won't be issue and assuming Tetsuji would not pit him against ravens and allow him to train with a coach he wouldn't loose more than 3-4 months [during which he can still do cardio and train other muscle groups, improve his footwork as well as study exy from more technical standpoint, research read books watch old games and THINK i think he would easily went back to play with his team in second half of the next season in games and bit earlier in trainings. But being separated form them for so long to allow for his healing and injury care would put a big rift between him and his team. They would be resentful and not at all sympathetic ravens are competitive Riko is star but he is also their captain, and i assume while Riko is decommissioned someone else took that position- temporarily as Riko would hope. But what if the Second Captain turned out to be better? What if ravens decided the new guy deserves their respect more than Riko does? I think Tetsuji would not extend his protection to Riko any more, Rikos little outburst on the court was embarrassing and illegal There would be no way for Riko to play exy after attack on another player, in best case scenario Moriyamas might keep him out of prison but I don't think any of them would care, I think Riko's most likely future is being murdered in prison depending if anyone who hates the family is behind the same bars.

#riko moriyama #aftg #all for the game

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fandoms--fluff · 6 months

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I was thinking Hope x Reader. Where Reader is a siren and she was swimming around in the lake and Hope saw her.

Down at the Lake

Flufftober, October 22nd

Warnings: mind control, idk?

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

You've been going to the lake deeper in the forest every day or so. It calms your nerves and allows you to have an outlet to sing without hurting anyone, especially Hope. You haven't told her yet.

I mean, how are you supposed to tell your tribrid girlfriend that you're a siren and the only one left of your kind. You got away before Cade could kill you once and for all, and Bonnie, Stefan, and Damon officially killed him.

You are right now in the water, a black bikini on. Does it cover you very well? No, but it's cute. And it's not like anyone is going to see you.

That's at least what you thought.

Unknowingly to you, Hope had followed you down to the lake. She's been curious about where you'd be missing for a couple hours in the evening every other day.

What she wasn't expecting is to see her girlfriend swimming in the lake, but singing at the same time.

Your voice is beautiful and mesmerizing, and now that she thinks about it, doesn't sound like normal. If that makes sense. It's high pitch and almost reminds her of the stories of mermaids and how their singing can control humans from the stories her mom used to tell her before bed.

"Your voice is amazing" Hope makes her presence known, sitting on the big rock next to the water.

You freeze, stop singing, and look over to your girlfriend. You swear under your breath. "Hope. What are you doing here?" You swipe your damp hair away from your face.

"Oh, uh, I wanted to know where you were going and doing. And not cause I don't trust you or anything, but I was curious, and" She starts rambling, seeing your stern expression.

"Hey, it's okay, don't work yourself up. Just breathe. In and out" You walk over to her, water splashing with each movement.

She breathes in and out, her breath becoming even again. You're standing in front of her, the water up to your mid-thighs.

"Ya know, your singing reminds me of the mermaid people, oh sirens! From the stories my mom would tell me," Hope tells you, remembering the proper name for them.

You look down to the glistening water before looking back up with your lips pressed against each other. "What?" Hope tilts her head, wondering why you have that facial expression.

"Well, technically you're not wrong," You tell her, why not just tell her right? It's not like she couldn't figure it out soon enough by this interaction alone.

"What do you mean?" Hope's eyebrows furrow. "I'm a siren. The only one left. I would be dead if Cade hadn't been killed by Bon Bon and the other two idiots" You tell her.

"You're being serious?" Hope's face lights up at the new information. "Yep, can't be more. When I sing, when I want to at least, I can easily manipulate anyone's mind and basically control them" You tell her.

She takes in the information, before looking back up at your face. "That's scary. But cool at the same time. I'm surprised you haven't used it on Doctor Saltzman" Hope reaches her hand out and starts playing with strands of your hair, curling the damp tresses around her fingers.

"Who says I haven't?" You smirk. "Do I even want to know?"

"Nope," You pop the p.

"Oh yeah, you look hot. You should wear this more often" Her eyes run over your body and the tiny black swimsuit. "I'll take that into consideration" You press your lips to hers.

#hope mikaelson #hope mikaelson x female reader #hope mikaelson x reader #hope mikaelson x fem reader #siren reader #hope mikaelson x siren reader #hope #hope marshall #cute #fluff #imagines #thevampirediaries #fanfic #writing #theoriginals #legacies

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quitealotofsodapop · 3 months

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In the alternative version, because of Wukong's pregnancy the Demon Bull family basically give up any plans of world domination very early, so the first Macaque learns of the Monkey King returning is when he hears that rumors of PIF training the M9nkey King's heir in his stead. Now, that brings all sorts of confusing questions to Macaque, like why the hell is his sister who swore vengeance on Wukong training his heir, who is this heir, and why the hell is Wukong not training his own successor!? The fact that there are no signs of the king himself only adds to the confusion since Wukong most certainly isn't allowed out of the Demon Bull Palace's grounds while pregnant, meaning nobody else but the Demon Bull Family and the Noodle Gang even know Sun Wukong is back outside of the fact that he obviously is around somewhere if he has an heir!

Now, because PIF and DBK are helping in the training, MK is actually getting stronger faster than in the show and the base Slow Boiled au. He also knows more about demons and Demon succession, meaning he knows that Wukong hadn't just randomly selected him to take over hero work but had actually claimed him as his Heir, technically making him a prince. He still doesn't know what to think of that.

referencing this alternate Slow Boiled route.

Macaque (and the mortals who thought DBK was back to take over) is very confused. XD

This could also be how they react when they find out during New Years in the base Slow Boiled au. After DBK and PIF (with noodle fam assistance) kidnap convince Wukong to see a doctor for his energy draining, the IronBull couple pretty much insist that they take over MK's mentorship.

Wukong, bed-bound: "He has my powers! I can still teach him!" Pigsy, providing endless bedside meals: "No! You heard what Guanyin said! No exerting yourself after that Spider mech business!" PIF: "Brother-in-law, you can barely get up from that bed at this moment. Leave the training to us for now." MK: "I'm actually gonna get my butt whooped, right?" PIF & DBK: "Yes." MK, excited to have supplementary training: "Woo-hoo!" Wukong: "HEY! You're still joining me for yoga, bud!" MK, disappointed: "Aww..." Macaque, listening in: "What the...?"

#slow boiled stone egg au #lmk aus #pregnancy tw #sun wukong #lmk demon bull family #qi xiaotian #lmk pif #lmk dbk #lmk princess iron fan #lmk demon bull king #lmk pigsy

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rowretro · 4 months

Text

✧𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓✧

WARNINGS: a baby getting hurt (not badly and not on purpose), kissing (?), mentions of abuse, a crying riki I wrote this on sleep deprivation

✧CHAPTER 5✧

✧tag list✧: @chlorinecake @nikisdubblchococake @enhypensccstarlight @strwberrydinosaur @sunghoonsbeautymark

"Relax babe, you don't need to be so tense 24/7" y/n reassured as she rocked the baby, Riki on the other hand was wrapping the corners of the table, and cupboards, or any sharp object that was within the baby's reach or could possibly end up hurting the baby, in clingfilm and tape.

"you don't understand! some teen parents actually do raise good kids, while the rest end up messing up their child you know?! just last week, Jaemin's baby ended up having a nose bleed because he shoved a pencil in his nose, speaking of which we need to lock away all the pens and pencils!" Riki warned, as he continued to baby proof the building.

Y/n sighed as she softly pulled Riki up "You need to relax, here take our baby, and just calm down for a little, I mean he's a Nishimura now, why don't you show him what Nishimura's do best?" Y/n said with a smile as she went through her phone "I thought you said you don't want the baby getting into our gang work..." Riki trailed off as he stared at his girlfriend who was frowning.

"No stupid- I meant dancing-" Y/n sighed as Riki noded, the girl played one of his favourite songs as Riki danced with the baby. "You know what, you're right- I love this song... so does junior Rikiii, yeah who's the dancing king hmm?" Riki cooed at the baby as he gently carried him.

thud

Riki's eyes widen as he realized that he had hurt the baby, the poor little one's head, hitting the side of a cupboard "Oh god- d-do you think it wasn't actually the baby?" Y/n asked, given that the baby didn't exactly cry "w-well he's not cryi-" before he could even finish his sentence. Y/n turned off the music as she made her way to the 2, Riki gently rocked her as y/n tried to sing him a little song.

He still continued to cry, no matter how hard the duo tried "Babe I think we should just go to the doctors... just to be safe" Riki trailed off as he gently rocked the teary eyed baby. "Definitely..." The girl replied as she slipped on her heels and strapped the baby, safely into his carrycot.

Upon arriving at the doctors, the Doctor ran a few tests "So he bumped his head hmm? exactly how hard was it? can you show me?" Doctor Jaemin asked, turning to Riki as he blinked. "yeah it was like this-" Riki said, hitting his head on the side of the wall, feeling a little awkward at the suggestion. "And did you feel any pain?" He asked as Riki frowned "No- of course not-" He said as if it was the most obvious thing, which it technically was.

"Exactly, you see, babies are built to survive new parents, and well, you and your wife are good parents, so you have nothing to worry about. These things happen okay?" Doctor Jaemin reassuringly smiled, as the 2 left the hospital room.

As they walked outside, Riki was going on and on about something to the baby, while y/n silently walked beside him. She didn't know why, but when Jaemin called her Riki's wife, she couldn't help but feel her heart flutter at the phrase, she turned to her side to see Riki, messing about with the baby, as he gently rubbed his nose with the baby's.

"Did you hear what the doctor called us?" Y/n asked, wondering if maybe he may have felt the same, as Riki smiled back at her warmly "Yeah... he said we were good parents... thank god, it feels nice to hear that from a doctor you know?" Riki said, he was pretty genuine, he wasn't one bit phased by the fact Jaemin assumed Y/n was his wife. "Yeah... good parents."

It was finally night, the baby won't stop crying when being held by Riki, and Sunghoon came by to see how the couple, and the baby were doing. "He still crying?" Sunghoon asked, seeing how tired y/n was "Yeah... I tried feeding him and snuggling him but he just wont' eat or stop crying..." y/n trailed off as the male pat her head. "Don't worry, you go sleep, I'll take care of him uhkay?" Sunghoon asked as y/n smiled, going up the stairs, but feeling to lazy to sleep on her bed, she fell asleep on the floor instead.

Sunghoon sighed and went to the couch, where there was the crying baby. "There there little one, its ok, these things happen~" Sunghoon assured as he pat Riki's back. "It's just, all I've been doing to this child is hurting him, first I kill his parents, then I keep swearing at him, and accidentally leaving him behind in places, and now i accidentally hurt him... Oh my god what if I become abusive?!" Riki spiralled as he cried more.

Sunghoon sighed, hugging him "Listen bro, that baby is lucky, I mean from what I heard both his birth parents barely even knew he existed, and seeing you cry for this baby that isn't even your blood says enough. Riki you're like this baby's guardian angel, you saved him from a lifetime of trauma... although you killed his parents... plus anyway, it's totally normal to feel this way, it means you really care. Like that time you cried about getting y/n a cheap birthday present... " Sunghoon trailed off as he pat his head.

"The baby's asleep now so you can go get so shut eye rest... oh and y/n fell asleep on the floor-" Sunghoon added as Riki sighed "I have two babies..." Riki groaned as he carried the girl to his room, placing her on his bed as he watched her snuggle up "Two adorable babies" he smiled to himself giving his love a goodnight kiss, turning the lights off and wrapping his arms around her waist, lovingly.

✧𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓✧

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writingbyshiloh · 11 months

Text

I Love as Madly as I Hate

CW: JW universe (blood, reader kills and gets stabbed), ANGST!, Reader wears a dress, verbal fighting, dead marrage, Vincent being a dick and no beta (and Grammarly gave up halfway through), One sentence in French which means “leave us alone”, implied smut

AN: I hope this is angst, I don't really read angst myself. I overthought the tense this is in so much that words don't make sense anymore. FUN FACT! The title is from Les Fleurs du Mal which I want to have made an appearance in the other Marquis fic but I thought the title was fitting.

The bounty amount is in the sweet spot. High enough that it’s worth the effort, but not too high that half the world would also be trying to bag them with you. The only problem was with who set the bounty. That would be your ex, of six months. Well technically he's still considered your husband, and you were still legally married.

That was your fault, bringing up the idea of a divorce, and waiting for him to sign. Wanting to get one last dig in while still married, you act surprised, reminding him he can’t get a second marriage, second changes are for men who failed the first time, remember? He took the papers from your hand, never for you to see again. Sometimes you think he burned them.

The hit was for a mob member - Lukas Matthews, young and new to the underworld, not sure how things worked. He stole from one of his bosses, an acquaintance of Vincent. The younger mob man was distracted by all things flashy, expensive, and pretty.

You didn’t have any trouble donning a sparkly dress, paying admittance to some dive club to stalk the man. As long as you push down the feeling that you were really just doing this to get a glimpse of Vincent, it was okay. Great even. Maybe if you were a normal person you could just call him.

You watch the target for a while, sipping on soda from the bar so you could blend in. The man was still with his friends, and you figured it would be easier to take him when he was alone, probably outside, away from the other members of his group or innocent partygoers.

—.

Lukas ultimately lost, but he fought nasty. Maybe you were still rusty. The rest of your night now consisted of trying to patch up yourself or trying to find a black market doctor to fix you, depending on how bad your shoulder gets.

You were littered with scrapes, small cuts and sore muscles, but your shoulder got the worst of the battle. Lukas managed to cut quite deep with a broken beer bottle. Once it heals it will be a reminder of all the things you do to try and convince yourself that you’re over your husband.

Pain flared every time you moved your shoulder, the wound being an inch or two below your collarbone left you trying to keep half your body still. You settle on taking Lukas’s hand, with the mob tattoo. You and Vincent know members of that mob would rather die than cut off their symbol.

With the body shoved against a trash can, you place a few garbage bags to cover the mess. The hardest part of the evening was still to come. With your good hand, you fish out your phone from your bag.

—

You assume he is attending some ballet dance or performance. You felt a bitter twist of jealousy. Was he there with someone? Has he moved on that fast? You think mind racing. When you texted the Accountants that you completed the bounty, you received a call from Chidi.

“I hear you collected the bounty. Do you have proof of death?” he questioned.

“I do. I have the hand with the tattoos, but the body’s here I can get something else” you rambled down the line, suddenly much more nervous than before.

“Please hold.”

The line was quiet, you watched people come and go from the club, secluded from the side street you were in. Backtracking into the club, hand in your bag you returned your coat check ticket. At least the jacket will cover up the bleeding, you can get the bounty and go home.

“Hello?” Chidis's voice returned.

“Yeah, I'm here.”

“Tell me your address, the Marquis de Gramont will be sending a car.”

—

The Marquis de Gramont looked amazing. He tried to always look his best in his suits, complete with an incredibly complicated knot, chains, and his signature pin. You still have your pin, hidden in a shoe box in your closet. Tonight was no exception to his looks.

His suit was reflecting the lights in his mansion. You knew from the glitter, this was a suit he would were at a cultural outing. Bitter jealousy bites at your insides. Was he there with someone? Did he move on that fast? Is it a mistress? You think. The jealousy dies when you still see his wedding ring on his left hand. Your wedding ring feels heavier on your right.

You both look at each other, his gaze lingering on your exposed legs, no doubt covered in blood. You felt exposed standing in the center of the large room.

Vincent was the one to break the silence first “Did I buy you that dress?”

“No. I’ve had it for a while”

He nods, stepping closer.

“Proof?”

You frown thinking he was asking about the dress, before remembering the severed hand.

“It's here. Tattoos and all.” you struggle to get the appendage out of your bag without moving your bad shoulder. At least you had the sense to wrap the hand in a plastic bag.

“Come to my office. We can talk in there”

You do not want to “talk in his office”. The last time, you went to “talk in his office” about a bounty it ended up with you naked on his desk, the cold chain from his suit vest and his ring pressed against you.

“I should go. You can just wire me the money or something” You reject.

You can tell you surprised him before his face shifts back to a more neutral expression.

“I have a nasty scratch so…” you trail off, hoping he leaves the issue.

His gaze almost softens. The separation was less than a year ago, you guess that he still cares for you. He still keeps tabs on you, your neighbour works for him you’re almost certain of it.

“Where?”

You gesture with your chin to your shoulder.

The pressure from his stare makes you break down and shrug off your jacket, the inside sticky with blood.

Already he is in front of you, pressing a cloth against your wound.

“You need to see the doctor, mon amour.”

You hate yourself for leaning into his touch, but at least he has good contacts for an underground doctor. It won’t be that hard to get in and out right?

—

The doctor arrived fast, not wanting to piss off the Marquis. You knew him from your early days of dating, long before your marriage, when Vincent insisted you quit. You wonder if the doctor remembers you. If he does, he doesn’t show it.

You just didn’t think Vincent was going to join you. He watches the doctor tend to your shoulder first, sewing neat rows of stitches to hold your flesh in place. You stare at your jacket on a spare chair, no doubt forever stained in blood. The good doctor already gave a warning about closing your eyes, so you keep your gaze on the jacket, your nails on your good hand leaving imprints on the chair arm from the tension between you and Vincent.

The doctor moves on to more minor wounds, mostly cleaning them, and patching them up if needed. Ignoring your soft hiss when the cleaner he is using hurts more than you expected.

Vincent is watching the doctor, scowling when you flinch in pain.

The instant the doctor pushed the tray with his tools and bloody tissues away, Vincent speaks for the first time since the three of you sat down.

“Laissez-nous seuls”

The doctor protests, wanting to give you instructions on caring for his work, making sure you don’t rip anything open.

Vincent glares at the doctor, who places down some gause for you to take home and leaves without another word, closing the door behind him.

The Marquis drops to his knees for a better look at your injury. One hand cups the back of your shoulder blade to keep you still, as he inspects you. You’re sure you smell disgusting, the smell of the bar soaked into your dress and your hair. The doctor cleaned up most of the blood, but Vincent never really cared about literally getting his hands bloody if the time was right. He would just wipe them on a cloth and toss it aside for one of his housekeepers to pick up.

You turn your whole face away, as much as your shoulder will let you, sure he can feel how hot your face is across the distance. The feel of his eyes is heavy, and almost magnetic, pulling you to look at him. His other hand is on the armrest of your chair.

“Don’t,” you said softly, trying to preserve any of the dignity that you had left.

“Don’t what, mon amour” he whispered, still looking at your shoulder.

“This.” You were mostly saying this to yourself, knowing that you only had seconds to get out of his personal space before you give in. You’re tired and hurt and he's right there, acting how he did when you first fell in love with him.

You tilt your head back almost automatically to give him more access to your throat. He moved slowly, pressing kisses against your jaw like it would be the last time, before working his way to your mouth and kissing you properly.

—

It’s like a bomb waiting to go off, not only having sex with him but also having to navigate yourself out of his bed without one of you making a gripe at the other.

Well, not technically his bed. This was yours, in a guest room you made your own while being married, now empty. You moved your stuff out during the separation. Sometimes you regret not taking the bedclothes with you, but now you’re thankful you can feel them, cool and soft against your skin.

You had no choice but to stay lying on your back, trying to keep your injury still. He was next to you in the same fashion.

“You are still wearing your ring.” He speaks quietly. As if to prove his point, he toys with your wedding band.

“I helped design it, of course, I’m going to show it off,” you reply not being able to look him in the eye.

He kissed the back of your hand.

“I believe I designed it, you just suggested the stones.”

Hand flexed to fully show off the stones, you had to agree.

The stones were suggested by you, on a date to le Musée de Minéralogie. It was just the two of you, and you had been taken with the rubies. Vincent walked alongside you, filling you in on information you might not have known. It was an off-handed comment from you, how red is a colour for both blood and love, very fitting in your line of work.

“You have good taste,” he says while you think had instead.

His hand skimmed your bare side, nimble fingers finding a small bump that was not there before your flight with Lukas.

You flinched at the dull pain, not surprised if he “accidentally” poked it.

“You should let me take care of you, mon amour.”

That was it. The same words that started and ended your marriage. Being taken care of by Vincent made you feel like a doll, sitting on a shelf, never allowed to do anything.

“Vincent,” You spoke with caution, the pain slowly seeping back into your body.

He held your chin gently, commanding your gaze to look at him. You softened looking at him.

“It is true. Do you think I like seeing you like this?” he asks.

“I don’t know what you like” you retort, steeling yourself for the argument to come.

“I like you.”

“Oh, you do? Is that why you made me quit bounty work?” you snap.

“I asked you to stop because you're not very good at it and I did not want a dead fiancé.”

Ouch.

“If you were a better fighter, you would take higher bounties.”

You don’t look at him as you leave the bed. You know he's sneering at you.

But you’re not going to shrink away even though you’re naked. You know you have to get dressed in front of him but you can put on a brave face.

“Thanks for this lovely reminder of why our marriage failed.” You spit out. You know the failed comment will piss him off.

You leave without a second look, cheap shoes squeaking against the floor.

—

You felt the lock slide open under the key, your apartment slightly cold and quiet. You still smelled like his cologne, only now the smell reminds you of the recent bitter memories. You discard your bag as you make your way to your bed in your apartment. Away from Vincent.

As you take off your dress for the second time you feel your phone buzz.

[Unknown number: Wire Transfer Sent. Deposit for Lukas is confirmed.]

Seeing him mixed with the rush of adrenaline after the fighting was too much, especially with the separation so fresh. Maybe he was right. Maybe you should go after higher bounties, especially not those set by him.

Taglist: @heartrot666, @soraya-daydreams

#I will add nice dividers later but for now #I can finally grocery shop #marquis de gramont x reader #marquis vincent de gramont x reader #john wick movie x reader

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