#i am not going to be normal for several business days

[adarkenedforest]

Gwisjausjhshaha

Heabajabzhs

[constantvariations]

Why did they create such a useless character to show Cinder's backstory when Salem is literally right there AND the real question the audience wants answered???

Imagine if it had been Salem who stayed at the hotel and saw something of herself in the scrappy servant girl. She saw how the Madame treated little Cinder and offered a way out only if Cinder has the power to be useful to her. Maybe she put Cinder to a test of how far she was willing to go for freedom, or maybe Salem wanted something from the Madame that she wouldn't give so it was up to Cinder to provide

Either way, Salem gets a young disciple that's ruthlessly ambitious and easy to manipulate and Cinder gains the illusion of freedom under a new master

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Being a perpetual people-pleaser meant that you were constantly putting others before yourself--particularly your parents and the eccentric guests who stayed at their motel. But when a surly and mysterious musician checked in indefinitely, he flipped your whole world on its head. (3.1k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ A/N: Thank you to my numerous beta readers, including but not limited to @the-unforgivenn, @lofaewrites, @lokis-army-77, and @corroded-hellfire, and to @hellfire--cult for the divider. I am forever indebted to y'all.

chapter one: room for one more

It was always the quiet nights, wasn't it? The ones where the only sounds came from cars barreling down Queens Boulevard and splashing through puddles left by an earlier rainstorm, or from the clock ticking on the wall. 

The ones where your mind wandered until you’d thought yourself in circles, overanalyzing every last decision you had ever made.

The ones where you allowed your guard just down enough that the slightest oddity threw you off-balance—something or someone out of place. 

It was during the quiet nights like that night where you should have expected the unexpected, because New York City never stayed still for long. 

The evening’s sluggishness was normal; tourism always slowed in the springtime. The newest shows on Broadway were already months old, not to mention the warmer weather brought both an uptick in crime and pollen count. If out-of-towners were going to schlep to the East Coast, they’d prefer to see the cherry blossoms hours south in Washington, DC than to get mugged on the 1 train. 

Business picked up in the winter months when people flocked from around the world to witness the Thanksgiving Day Parade, the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, or Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve, even though they were several bus and subway transfers away. Outsiders to the tri-state area struggled to differentiate between boroughs; it was unfortunate for them, but you counted on it to keep business alive. 

The only guests who consistently frequented your family’s motel were junkies looking for a place to shoot up away from the NYPD’s watchful gaze or affair-havers who were considerate enough not to sully their marriage beds—just their vows. You were in no position to judge; their money was what kept the lights on, but it was impossible not to compare your clientele to the suits who stayed at the Marriott down the street. They wouldn‘t even allow homeless folks to sit within twenty-five feet of the building, let alone stay under their roof.

You leaned on the desk, wood grain pinching your elbows. You tapped your pencil against your textbook as you read, its margins cluttered with notes about different types of parent-child attachment styles. 

Sleep prickled at the corners of your eyes, blurring the words on the page in front of you. Focus. 

Secure attachment occurs when—no, you’d already read this line. Twice. 

“Dammit,” you muttered under your breath, gently slapping your cheeks in a futile attempt to stay awake. Taking a full course load instead of your usual part-time was your academic advisor’s ill-conceived idea, bolstered by the prospect of an earlier graduation. In your haste, you’d neglected to consider two important factors: all of your studying now had to be done during your night shifts, and graduating meant telling your parents a truth they were unready to hear. 

They were so proud of the motel, regardless of its reputation. It might as well have been The Plaza from the way your dad boasted about it. The three of you shared an unspoken understanding that you worked the front desk because paying an actual employee would put them under. Maybe if finances weren’t so tight, you could have freely admitted that your future plans didn’t involve taking over the business. 

Your eyelids fluttered shut as your head rested on your book, a small puddle of drool pooling atop Bowlby’s theories. 

Ping ping ping ping!

Time slowly stretched out before you, your conscious brain clawing its way out of its hazy fog. It took a beat for you to recognize that the incessant noise came from someone repeatedly smacking the tiny bell that sat on the desk. 

“Hey, hello?” an impatient voice called out, jolting you from your impromptu nap. You blinked away the residual sleepiness and took in the sight in front of you: a curly-haired man, likely not much older than you were, a cigarette that had been nearly smoked down to the filter tucked between his lips. He had a patched guitar case strapped to his back and clutched a black garbage bag filled with what you hoped was clothing.

“Sorry,” you grumbled, wiping the moisture from your chin. “Need a room?” 

“Mhm.” You could practically hear his eye roll: no, I just stopped by in the middle of the night for a quick chat. Fancy a cup of tea and a scone? 

He plopped the garbage bag on the ground; its soft landing and the way it wrinkled told you that whatever was inside was, thankfully, not a body.

You nodded and turned around to the wall of keys behind you. There was no shortage of rooms; the only occupied one was being rented by Phyllis, a sixty-year-old self-described ‘entertainer of gentleman’ who paid double her bill in exchange for your silence. 

He stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray on the countertop, grinding it into the base for good measure. “How much per night?” he asked, digging into his pants pocket and pulling out a wallet held together with duct tape. 

“Fifteen.”

The man breathed out, his bangs fanning over his forehead. “Jesus.” He fished two twenties and a five from the billfold and placed them in front of you. “This should cover me until Friday, yeah?”

Nodding, you folded the bills and tucked them into the register kept under the desk, only accessible by key because of a series of break-ins during the late ‘70s.

The man lit another cigarette as you pulled out the ledger and a pen. “Name and date here,” you said, pointing to the ‘check in’ column. He took a drag before scrawling his name on the line: Eddie Munson, 5-4-93. 

“All right, you’ll be in…” you scanned the assortment of keys dangling from their hooks. The walls were thin, and this guy seemed decent enough, so you decided to spare him the theatrical sound effects of Phyllis’s room 10 endeavors. “…room 4. Make a right down the hallway, and it’ll be the second door. Can’t miss it if you try.” 

Your attempt at humor fell flat, both of you too exhausted to laugh. You strode past it, clearing your throat as if dispelling the tension. When you placed the key in his calloused palm, you couldn’t help but notice that the base of each fingertip is a half-shade paler than the rest of his skin. 

“Thanks.” Eddie mumbled. He tapped the cigarette above the ashtray, the gray flakes falling into a neat pile. His right bicep flexed underneath his denim jacket as he heaved the garbage bag over his shoulder, careful not to bang it against the guitar. 

He scuttled out of the tiny room masquerading as a lobby, shoulders hunched from the weight of the bag and of the burdens he inevitably carried. No one shows up to a motel in the middle of the night without a story or two. 

After years of greeting guests at the front desk, you liked to think you had a decent read on them. Eddie was quiet, maybe even introspective, but not necessarily shy. He was tired; no, more than that: he was worn down, like so many other people who had come through these doors. 

Most importantly, Eddie didn’t seem like he'd be much trouble. He didn’t stumble in wasted and reeking of booze or fidgeting as he awaited a fix. He wasn’t shouting or poorly concealing a wandering eye or making lewd comments. He’d made pretty much no impression at all besides being a bit gruff, which was just fine with you. Your personality wasn't composed of rainbows and sunshine at this hour either.

You looked at the clock and sighed when it only read 2:17. It’s already tomorrow, you thought grimly. Just under four hours until you could walk ten feet to your room, curl up in your bed, and sleep until it was time for your afternoon class. After years of balancing school and work, you were in the last two weeks of your final semester, and then…what? You casually inform your parents that you were leaving the family business–essentially forcing them to close it–to pursue a career in social work? 

That was sure to go over well.  

To their knowledge, you were studying hotel management and hospitality in order to “improve the business.” That was why they’d relented when you’d asked to start taking classes, switching you over to the night shift to avoid having to hire a new employee.

What they didn’t know is that your school didn’t even offer that as a major. Nor were they aware of the acceptance letter into NYU’s Masters of Social Work program that was stashed inside your dresser drawer, hidden from sight. That was a conversation for another day when you found the strength to face their disappointment.

Chaos waited to strike until the end of your shift. 

Just as you packed your book back into your bag, a familiar, skunky odor wafted past your nostrils. 

Ignore it, you thought. Let it be Dad’s problem when he takes over in five minutes. But if you could smell it, so could any of the cops patrolling the boulevard. One more citation and the motel was in jeopardy of being permanently shut down, and you couldn’t take that risk.

With a frustrated sigh, you yanked open the desk drawer and reached in for a pen, instead pulling out an unopened box of crayons. A twenty-four pack of Crayola—the good kind. You plucked a waxy cornflower blue from its spot and scribbled Be back soon on a Post-It note, sticking it on the front of the desk. Grabbing the pepper spray canister from its spot next to the register, just in case, you started down the hall. Marijuana wasn’t Phyllis’s drug of choice, though it might have been one of her various gentleman suitors’, but the scent was too strong to be coming all the way from room 10.

Maybe this Eddie Munson was trouble, afterall.

You knocked on his door, firmly but without aggression. It certainly wasn’t the first time you interrupted someone’s buzz, and it wouldn’t be the last. You knew better than to go in guns a-blazing; it’s easier to catch flies with sugar than vinegar. 

Eddie opened it after a moment, cracking it halfway and revealing a lit joint pinched between his plush lips. One forearm was perched on the doorframe, showing off faded ink of a litter of flying bats and a dragon-esque creature. He was clad in only navy blue boxer briefs, but his lack of attire was no surprise. Many guests were shameless, not bothering to cover the holes in their Fruit of the Loom tighty-whities and showcasing faded yellow stains on the crotch. What confused you was the elastic waistband proudly proclaiming ‘Calvin Klein’ that cut off the soft hair trailing from his belly button. It seemed absurd that he would have been lugging around any designer clothes in that trash bag, but there was no other possibility. 

“Can I help you?” he asked, shaking his curly bangs out of his face. Half-lidded brown eyes scanned your form, trying to determine whether you were a narc or trying to bum some bud off of him. His window was cracked open enough to let in fresh air, which also meant that the acrid smell could easily be let out.

“You can’t smoke that here,” you reported matter-of-factly, just as you had a million times before. When he cocked a challenging brow, you continued. “Cigarettes are fine, but no weed. The police will come after us and you.”

He looked around the room, unbothered, and absentmindedly scratched at his bare chest. A demon’s head was sketched just above a sparse patch of hair. Under different circumstances, or maybe in another life altogether, you would’ve asked him about his tattoos; if they had some philosophical meaning or were the products of spur-of-the-moment decisions. You could have blathered on about the ideas you had for your own future tattoos, if you ever worked up the nerve to actually get one. 

“You mean to tell me that with all of the skeevy shit that goes on around here, the cops are gonna waste their time on a little pot?” He scoffed and took another defiant pull, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling away from you.

I guess chivalry isn’t dead, you mused, stifling an eye roll. “No, but they’re always looking for an excuse to ‘investigate,’’' you threw air-quotes around the last word, “so they can bust us for more serious things, and that is the perfect one.” You gestured to the joint only to be met with an eye roll. “Look, you can either put it out, smoke it somewhere else, or you can leave. Full refund, but you can’t stay here.”

His stare locked onto your steely eyes and clenched jaw, only breaking when you’d straightened your posture to stand your ground. “Whatever,” he huffed, but he snuffed it out. A glimmer of a smile danced on his lips, disappearing nearly as quickly as it arrived. Despite its fleeting nature, it managed to thaw you enough so that your arms weren’t held quite so tight to your body, your expression less rigid. “Just trying to relax and get some sleep, like you were while you were supposed to be ‘working.’” It’s his turn to supply the air-quotes, both in mockery and as a gotcha. A teasing lilt elevated his voice, smoothing out the edge he’d greeted you with earlier. 

“I wasn’t sleeping, just…resting my eyes,” you volleyed back, your smirk betraying any semblance of the tough façade you’d worn. 

Eddie crossed his arms and walked over to the garbage bag of clothes. He rummaged through it for a moment before procuring a pair of gray sweatpants, stepping into them hurriedly as though he just remembered his minimal attire. 

“Maybe if you chose more interesting reading material, you wouldn’t be sl—resting your eyes on the job,” he amended, gesturing to the textbook in your canvas tote bag. “Ever heard of Stephen King?”

“I live in a motel, not under a rock.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You live here?”

Shit. That wasn’t information you regularly divulged. Sure, this guy seemed harmless, but looks can be deceiving. Prime example: wearing designer underwear while using a trash bag in lieu of a suitcase. 

It was too late to double back, so you nodded. “Yeah,” you admitted reluctantly. The sole of your sneaker dug into the old carpet. 

Eddie looked like he wanted to say more, lips parted and eyes wide like there was a follow-up question sitting on the tip of his tongue. Before he could ask it, your gaze landed on the clock radio: six AM on the dot. 

“I need to go,” you said hurriedly. Shame at your sudden shyness burned a hole in your belly. Eddie Munson was a guest; for all intents and purposes, he was a total stranger. There was no reason to be intimidated by him. “Good luck falling asleep,” you added with a weak smile. 

The easy banter that had been building between you dissipated in an instant, taking his good mood with it. His goodbye was a sardonic salute, the mattress springs creaking wearily as soon as you closed the door behind you. 

Sure enough, your dad was in the tiny lobby, assessing some peeling wallpaper. “Gotta fix that,” he mumbled to himself, thumbnail picking at it aimlessly. He turned around when he heard the door open and smiled when he saw you. 

“Sorry, I was helping out a guest,” you rushed to explain, hoping he wasn't too anxious to find the desk left unattended. 

The wrinkles in your dad’s forehead became more pronounced. “Is everything alright?” The phrase ‘helping out a guest’ could range from unclogging a toilet to calling the police for a domestic dispute. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reassured him quickly, flashing an exaggerated thumbs-up. “No law enforcement necessary. Didn’t even need to use the pepper spray.” You waved the canister in your palm before placing it back. 

He beamed, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your scalp. “It’s times like this where I just know I’ll be leaving this place in good hands.” 

You swallowed the bile that crept up your throat and feigned a smile when  he pulled you in for a tight hug. The mingled scents of Irish Spring soap and drugstore aftershave tickled your nose, and tears stung along your lash line. 

If only you knew, you thought, giving him one last squeeze before you headed to your room. Disappointed wouldn’t even begin to cover it. 

Your parents would never say the word aloud; they’d look at each other and heave identical weighted sighs. Their lifelong goal of a long-standing family business would vanish in the blink of an eye. Dad would pretend there was a chance that they could afford a new hire, even going so far as to fumble through the years of financial statements before inevitably throwing in the towel; Mom would force a pained smile and hoarsely encourage you to follow your dreams, even at the expense of theirs.

You shook the thought away as you trudged towards your room, sneakered feet like sandbags below you.  Dwelling on this scenario had you teetering on the brink of insanity, so you’d willed yourself to focus on something else. Anything else.

Like the motel’s newest guest and his smile. The way it softened the hard lines on his face, offering you a glimpse of how he wore happiness. Something about it made you want to see him happy again. 

You can’t even figure out how to make yourself happy, you thought, peeling back the starchy sheets and finally crawling into bed, much less a stranger. For all you knew, he was just relaxed because his high was starting to kick in, and not from some warming presence you’d supplied. 

The sun cracked pink through the sky, visible through the paper-thin curtains hanging on the window. You had become accustomed to this backwards routine, able to fall asleep while daylight broke. It took a few extra moments this time; you were anticipating marijuana-tinged fumes to float through the vents when Eddie ignored your instructions. 

It was that flicker of a smile that had you almost certain he would spark up once you’d left. The smile of someone who so naturally flouted authority that he no longer bragged about it. Yet time ticked by without a hint of evidence that he was smoking again. 

Which begged the question: if the smile didn’t signify defiance, what did it mean?

Eddie Munson is definitely trouble, you surmised just before you drifted off, but nothing you can’t handle.

--

taglist:

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98 @squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @chrissymjstan @loves0phelia @kthomps914 @aysheashea @reidsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock @ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @bewitchedmunson @foreveranexpatsposts @mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank @sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl @fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

[anonymousangstmonster]

Prompt #34

Little three year old Danny Fenton died when he accidentally zapped himself with a live wire. The parents were devastated, and tried all that they could to bring him back, and they succeeded!

In a week they managed to resurrect their baby by making him half-ghost.

But ever since then he would have random and unpredictable fits of aggression and violence. Sometimes they would be mere days apart, other times they would be several months apart.

So unfortunately they had to keep him under control. To do that they put a padded shackle that he couldn’t phase out of around his ankle, chained to the wall with a rubber coated, lightweight, double-reinforced, long chain.

His new room was a little corner of the lab sectioned off by a semicircle of glass with toggle-able fogginess. You might have thought that it was plain and sterile like the rest of the lab, and you’d be wrong, it was pretty cozy. The space was bigger than his old room, and the ceiling was twice as high. He had a desk and chair, three bird nest-like hammocks(one of which was more like a hidy-hole), his old bed, a couch and tv with a wii console, a mini-fridge for juice and water, a shelf for snacks, little model spaceships hanging from the ceiling, and monkey bars. The hammocks and monkey bars were attached to the wall, though that wasn’t a problem for him since he could fly. The wall was painted with a mural of the night sky and there were NASA posters plastered everywhere.

Even with the parents busy schedules they took the time to homeschool him, and encouraged his love of astronomy.

The Fentons hired a whole team devoted to his wellbeing, a doctor, a therapist, a tutor for when neither of them had the time, a lawyer, and even a specific CPS agent came to visit him every once in a while to bring him his favorite tea.

The FentonWorks lab was heavily secured, with voice activated and handprint required entry, so many firewalls that the place was harder to hack into than the Pentagon.

Fortunately for Sam, her best friend has had plenty of experience hacking into the Pentagon. So she brought him along to break her in when she heard that there was human experimentation going on in FentonWorks.

What she didn’t expect to see was a healthy looking(if a bit pale) boy, lounging on a couch playing video games on a large tv while snacking on a bag of Doritos at three AM.

A boy that would soon be let outside the lab for the first time in eleven years to attend high school.

Man, I really like making Danny grow up thinking that being the product of your parents lab experiment is normal.

[wasteddmoondust]

pineapple || james potter

pairing: james potter x reader 1,219 words, teacher and james go on their first date! what could go wrong? a/n: can you tell i am horrible at titling my fics... somehow i just need it to relate to what happens. so uh. enjoy!

prev. chapter

You feel your heart going absolutely crazy. You know it's first-date jitters, but somehow it feels worse this time. It's nothing special, really. You try to tell yourself. Just another first date. Just like other first dates (that has turned to nothing...) And now this first date is the father of one of the children you teach. Yeah, nothing special.

After several attempts to make yourself busy by looking at your phone, you hear your name. It's James and he's walking up to you.

"First name basis already?" you ask smugly.

He chuckles, "What? Sorry, I guess I'll just call you-"

"Please don't, I hate being called that outside of work."

"Got it."

The two of you walk together and he leads you to a quaint coffee shop, James swears by the coffee made here. When the orders are made you find a seat and sit down.

"It's been a while since I've been on a date," he says, hands fidgeting with the receipt.

"Same here," you admit.

He stops playing with the receipt and furrows his brows. "Really? But I'm the parent."

"And I'm the one taking care of your kid for a whole day, 20 kids, actually."

"Huh... and you don't even meet people in the industry?"

You snort. "Unfortunately no, a lot of them are older and married with kids. There's no one to date there. Trust me, even the older teachers try to make me get on dating apps. If anything, you're doing them a favour."

He grins that grin that makes your heart do a little flip. Oh god, it's happening, huh?

"I'm happy to do that."

You continue your conversation, keeping it light with small talk. Then, a waiter comes by to give you your meal and you both thank him. James' phone dings, he checks the message and he replies to it while you patiently wait for him.

He looks back up at you and keeps his phone. "Sorry, my best friend is taking care of Harry today, he was just sending an update."

"That's alright. Is he doing okay?"

"Harry?" he asks, looking a little nervous. His arms are resting crossed on the table. "Uh- yeah. He's fine. Not so sure about Sirius. He just said he's letting Harry use his tattoos as a colouring book."

You laugh. "Yeah, I can see that. He does love to colour. Have you always wanted to be a father?"

James looks stunned, but laughs it off. "Not a normal question for the first date, is it?"

"Well since you already are one," you shrug.

James thinks for a while before answering. "Yeah... I've always wanted kids... Well I'm sure you've seen from the documents I sent to the school when Harry enrolled. I'm widowed..."

You nod, you do in fact know this, you had read through those documents for every child. Understanding their family structure and dynamics can be a big help in understanding the child and improving their development in school and at home.

"She uh- had complications at birth and didn't make it." He let out a sigh and shrugged. "So now it's just me and Harry. And I wouldn't trade him for the world.

"You really love him, don't you?"

"I do."

"You know you can talk about him, right?"

James looks down and purses his lips. "It's just that... other people I've dated weren't really... keen on the fact that I have a kid. You know, another person's child and all."

You tilt your head down to try and make eye contact with him. Somehow, your hand reaches out to his. "You know that doesn't matter to me, right? I already knew you had a son, hell, I even taught him for a whole year, and I still accepted your date."

His mouth forms a small frown, but his hand grabs yours anyway. "I just didn't want to seem weird."

"You're not. Promise," you give his hand a squeeze.

"Is it too early to want to kiss you?"

You both stare at each other for a second before you burst out laughing, making him laugh too.

James starts to tell you about Harry, and visibly gets more comfortable the more he does it. He tells stories from his first words to potty fails. He shows videos and pictures. From there, the both of you fall into an easy rhythm of branching from topic to topic in your conversation. You exchange bites of your food. Before you know it, you're laughing while your meal is long done and you're both on your second cup of coffee.

For some reason, you feel an itch in your throat.

Nonchalantly, you ask, "Did your pasta have pineapple?"

"Yes, why?"

"Firstly, who the hell puts pineapple in pasta? Secondly, I think I'm having an allergic reaction."

James sits up in a panic. "Oh god- I'm so sorry-"

You cough into your first. "It's fine, it usually doesn't react as bad as it used to but I like to stay away from pineapples anyway. I'm not gonna die. Can you get me some cold water, please?"

He immediately stands up and gets you a glass from the counter. You down the glass in seconds and you feel better.

"I'm so sorry that was embarrassing-"

"You're sorry? I gave you a bite!"

"I forgot to ask, it's my fault."

He gently places a hand on your shoulder. "I'm so sorry, let me make it up to you"

"James, trust me, it's fine-"

"I'll bring you on a second date."

You furrow your brows. "You just saw me cough my lungs out from an allergic reaction and you still want to bring me out?" you can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness.

"I mean... I still find you attractive after all that so if you find me attractive after I rambled about my own child to you though you have taught him for this past year I don't see why not."

At this point, you're pretty sure your cheeks hurt from all the smiling you've been doing the entire time.

Despite your protests, James insists on driving you home. When you reach the entrance to your apartment building, he tells you to wait before rushing out of the car to open the door to the passenger's side. You giggle and take the hand he holds out to you as you step out of his car.

He tugs the hand that is holding yours to make you face him. He's so close, you're desperately hoping your cheeks don't show how flushed you are.

"So... same time next week?" you suggest.

He nods. "No pineapples this time, guaranteed."

"And you're allowed to talk about Harry."

He beams at that, looking down and letting out a sigh before looking back at you. "Is it still too early to kiss you?"

"Yes, but for now I'll give you this," you press a kiss to his cheek. You slowly walk towards your building, your arms stretching until you gently let go when you're too far away. "I'll see you next week!"

And like that, you disappear into the building. James is left standing there, still in disbelief of the entire day.

He lets out a sigh, smiling, and gets into his car. He 's so excited to tell Sirius when he gets home.

a/n: if i'm being so honest i have zero idea how most allergies work so please don't get technical with me... also!!!! thank you so much for the love on part one eek i am on a roll i'm so happy to be writing this series.

taglist: @willows-lane @celosiastarr @nsr-15

[writingoddess1125]

Bless you for your perfect Mihawk writing, I am dying <3 if you're still taking requests, may I please request some angst with lots of fluff? Mihawk gets word that his wife was badly injured on a mission, she almost dies, but she's strong so she survives with a deep battle wound? Soft Mihawk gives me life ;-;

I gotcha My Dear!

⚠️ Warning: ⚠️ Mention of Death, Disfigurement

Angst and some fluff

My Heart Lies with You

Ah the Dracule Couple- The best power couple of the ages by most people's standards. Mihawk who was the best swordsmen and you his wife the best stealth killers there was, a couple to be taken incredibly seriously. While you were no Warlord you were the wife of one so got the same privileges as your Husband. Paired with your skill it was a bonus for the world goverment to have you on their side.

It had been a normal mission like all the rest, you two rarely got mission together after getting caught being a little too friendly with each other on a assassination mission. So you went off 4 days ago to do a intel and assassination while Mihawk was sent to cause havoc and destroy a pirate base.

Mihawk was currently mid battle, ripping apart the base with his sword and fighting the worthless goons with ease. He heard the transponder snail go off in his ear and he sighed as he answered.

"I'm a little busy here Garp-" He says in a nonchalant way, cutting down several more people as the base behind him exploded.

"Hawkeye, you need to get here as quickly as possible-" Garp said I'm a rather sharp tone that wasn't fitting of the Vice- Admiral.

Mihawk felt a peg of annoyance go through his body at hearing such a tone from the man- Something was wrong very wrong..

"Fine.. I'll be there with the tide" Mihawk said disconnecting the call, sighing as he decided to stop having fun and get this over with so he could meet with the Garp.

The following morning Garp sat at his desk, nervously tapping his finger on the desk knowing this was not going to be pleasant. He heard the heavy footsteps of the Warlords and pulled out the whiskey, knowing it would be needed. Mihawk walked in, Stepping forward with a deep frown as he watched Garp pour the whiskey.

"You called me here Garp?" Mihawk asked with his normal stoic tone, The Vice-Admiral nodded and held out the whiskey to Mihawk who took it and took a hefty sip.

"Hawkeye- (Y/N) is MIA, there was a surprisingly large battle during her stealth mission and after she informed us she was injured transmission cut and we lost her" Garp said evenly, his eyes trained on Mihawk whose whole body seemed to lock up. The Warlord setting down the glass of whiskey quickly as his mind focused on one thing- his wife.

"Where was her mission?" He demanded, His breathing seeming shallow and unsheathed rage behind his eyes as Garp drank his glass of whiskey.

"Just off Summer Island, a boat has already been prepared to take you within the next hour" Garp said calmly, however Mihawk was already out the door at hearing this. His heart beating in his ears as he heard of this- His wife MIA after being injured.. scared him? He wasn't used to feeling scared like this- You were so skilled and careful, a perfect stealth killer as well as a Pirate he saw equal to himself.

As promised, within the hour Mihawk was sailing to Summer Island. The Marines with him scared as he looked like a pacing tiger, Walking up and down the main docks as his eyes locked onto the direction of his destination. By nightfall they had arrived, seeing a search party was already there. Never having been so greatful that Garp had let their mission be semi close to each other (usually a 2 day boat ride to one another max).

Mihawk looked around at the clear battle that had taken place on the island, anger bubbling in his chest as his mind racing with all the possibilities. He saw the search party still moving through the clearing. They wouldn't find her unless she wanted to be found- she was too good.

Stepping forward he cupped his hand over his lips and gave out two loud whistles sounding like a birds call, he held up a hand to the research party to stop which they did. The forest falling silent for a few moments, Mihawk closing his eyes to focus... after a moment or two a weakened call returned. Mihawk feet moving faster then his brain as he followed the bird call.

The search party backed away as Mihawk trudged forward repeating the bird call again following its echoed call.

Finally he made it to a large pile of fallen trees still scorched from what seemed to he a fire. Without care he began to throw off the glowing logs like they weighed nothing, finally seeing your arm wriggling under a large log he tossed it with all of his strength and fell to his knees quickly.

"I got you My Heart.. I got you" He said softly, his arm sliding under you and he felt the dampness from blood as he slowly lifted you into his arms. You managed to open an eye to see your husband, the taste of ash and dirt on your lips as you tried to give him a soft smile.

"D-Dont look so sa.." You croaked out, but the pain keep you from finishing your words. Mihawk pulling you closer to him and holding your face in his hand, his thumb pushing the dried blood and dirt from your face. Panic filling his features and- he froze. Fear filling his whole body that practically immobilized him-

"Medics Now!" Mihawk ordered loudly, a rush of Marine medics rushing forward to exact you and take you to the boat for attention. The Warlord finally seeing the large open wound on your chest which made his stomach churn- it went from your naval up to the left of your body shredding your skin across your left breast and past your shoulder. If it hadn't been for the grace of whatever Gods were out there or the dirt packed into the wound you would have died for sure.

Mihawk felt his body go cold- watching as the Marines take his wife. At first frozen in his spot before he quickly followed behind quickly, he was silent as they loaded you onto the boat. The medics quick to take you to the infirmary of the ship to provide emergency treatment- Mihawk standing in your room as he watched with unwaving eyes as they gave you oxygen and more to keep you breathing.

As fast as the boat could move it landed on a near by Marine Base to get you into its established hospital. The nurses and medical staff taking you as top priority as they got you into a proper room, Garp meeting Mihawk there as he saw them loading you into a room.

Once several machines were placed on you the loud sirens of the heart monitor sounded which shattered Mihawk- Hearing your heart jump in shock of whatever they were doing before it suddently stopped and flattened. He shoved past the doctors at this and grabbed your hand feeling it turn cold before a doctor could yank him off.

"Code Blue Code Blue we have lost the heart beat" a nurse announced, Another young nurse pushing Mihawk out of the room fully as they began emergency treatment for you. Mihawk had tried to resist at first ready to mow down the nurses but Garp pulled him back into the hallway before he could.

"They have to keep you out to give her the best treatment Hawkeye-" He tried to reason with the Warlord who looked ready to rip Garp apart, but he nodded silently as the older man lead him to a bench to sit down. Hours passed and Mihawk heard nothing... his nerves shot as he sat there trying to mentally figure out what to do- You could take die.. he would be lost if you did.. he mentally couldn't not comprehend the idea.. His face found his hands as he sat there letting his own imagination get the absolute worse of him.

"Mr. Dracule sir?.." The old doctor said softly, pulling the man from his hands as he looked up at the man. His eyes red from either stress or crying- no one was going to ask which, Mihawk stood up fully staring at the doctor.

"So we have your wife stable and alive, she will be making a recovery. While we are unsure of the damage done from the blood loss I can say she is very fortunate" Mihawk gave a sigh in relief, like he could finally take a breath for the first time.

"However there was some... damage due to the injuries" The doctor spoke gently, Mihawks relief was short lived as the doctor went into detail over your injuries. It seemed whatever had caused your injury had shredded the left side of your chest- due to the extent of the injuries they had to give a mastectomy to your left breast as well as remove lots of skin from around the whole wound that could have caused infections heaving what was going to be one hell of a scar.

His heart sank to his stomach at hearing this, but nodded in understanding. Greatful you were just alive. The doctor lead him inside still trying to brace him to see you.

When he saw you- he crumbled.. his heart shattered into tiny peices as he saw you. You were swollen and pale, the machine beeping loudly and monitoring every rise and fall of your chest which was shallow. He shuffled over to the little plastic seat next to your bed and sat there, he looked lost. Like the idea of you like this had never crossed his mind and he couldn't handle it now- he stared at the doctor, pity in the older man's eyes as he saw the devastated Warlord.

"How long will she be like this?.." Mihawk finally said. The doctor swallowing thickly and shook his head.

"Now that is something I can't tell you..." He said, before leaving the room to let Mihawk be with you. The Warlord reaching forward and touching your face softly, his hands shaking as he stared at the cuts and bruises on your face. Pulling away finally as he sat by your side, caressing your free hand carefully.

Hours turned to days.. days turned to weeks and after a month Mihawk had still not left your side, others even trying to convince the man to at least get fresh air but he refused. Unmoving and too stubborn to leave you alone as you recovered in your coma. Till one day-

You opened your eyes, you felt truly awful- your eyes burning at the harsh light. You blinked several times as your eyes adjusted and saw you were in a hospital, the beeping of machines around you finally took notice of them- flowers. So many flowers of every color and stage of wilting were scattered in the room like someone had set them in whatever space was available. A heavy feeling on your chest and hand caught your attention. Lifting your head slightly you could feel heavy gauze around your chest that made it hard to breath- however you assumed the pain medicine thay was for sure in your IV was keeping you from feeling whatever was happening there. However your gaze went to your side to the pressure on your hand, your gaze softening at the sight.

There was you husband, he looked as bad as you felt. His hair was a mess on his head and clearly hadnt been washed in some time, a deep stubble was blending in with his natural facial hair making him look like he was growing a full rugged beard instead of his usual clean look and even though he was passed out with his face pressed into your hand like a puppy waiting for its owner the insane bags under his closed eyes clued you in that he had been exhausted in waiting for you.

Carefully you reach around with your free hand and touch his hair, despite it being a greasy mess you stroke his hair softly. After a few moments of messing with his hair Mihawk head shoots up, his bright yellow eyes as wide as saucers as he stared at you.

"(Y/N).." He breathed out and his cupped your cheek quickly, you can see his eyes watering at seeing you awake. He stood up to place a kiss on your forehead, feeling a tear fall onto your cheek realizing it was from your husband. He pressed the call nurse button quickly.

"They need to check you first okay?..." Mihawk said, almost like he was convincing himself just as much as you. Soon a flood of nurses came in, giving every checkup and look around possible. If you weren't sure before that your situation had been bad then you knew by the end.

It had been a few days since you woke up from the hospital. To say it had been a roller coaster was a understatement, your husband had taken control of your care and recovery almost possessivly. Then his colleges and friends of the past visited the both of you- Even catching who had been assisting in bringing in flowers for you.

From Vice Admiral Garp who brought in a large strawberry cake and some adorable white flowers, Zoro with lovely blue hydrangeas, Perona bring in every type of rose imaginable, Shanks with whatever he could find and even Buggy who would shyly bring sunflowers and leave before getting the ire of Mihawk if the clown tried any stupid jokes.

It took Shanks and Zoro to convince Mihawk to finally go shower and change clothes agreeing to watch over you while he did so. You never did tell him he smelt like ripe ass sitting next to you.

Upon returning in fresh clothes that Perona had brought back you smiled.

"There is my handsome husband" You said with a grin, he smirked at this and took his seat next to you. Shanks and Zoro also glad to see at least most of Mihawk back to his former self- you reaches forward and touched the full beard that graced his features and giggled.

"I never knew you could grow a beard like this" You chimed, he rolled his eyes at your words and gently took your hand from his beard and held it instead.

"Don't get uses to it- once back home I'm shaving" You see Shanks and Zoro smirk at this, Clearly finding it amusing.

You look at the two of them and smile.

"Guys, could you get us something to eat?.. and some tea?" You ask sweetly, Zoro looked confused over this clearly about to question why not call the nurses button bit Shanks got it and patted Zoro shoulder. "Come with me" He said calmly as he lead the green haired man out the room and closing the door behind them. There was a few moments of silence, your hand finding its way to your own gauzed up chest.

"They told you?... right?" You asked softly, wanting to know of he knew about the amputation and the heavy scars on your body. He nodded calmly. You winced at this, feeling... ashamed at this and uncomforble, Giving a forced chuckle-

"Well... no more bikini seasons for me.." You try to make light, even if your bottom lip quivered. Touching that spot on your chest again. Mihawks eyes hardened at this and he gently pulled your hand from your chest and held it tightly. He knew what you were insinuating and it broke his heart all over again.

"(Y/N).. never say that- You are beautiful in every way imaginable. No matter what has been added or taken away... you're beautiful cause.. just cause your here with me" He admitted, staring at you. You felt your eyes grow warm with fresh tears at such thoughtful words.

"Honey.." You whisper softly, giving his hand a gentle tug to come closer to you which he obediently did and kissed you on the lips which you savored. Tears running down your cheeks at his sweet words-

"I love you Mihawk" You whisper softly again his lips, he pulled back ever so slightly and smiled.

"I love you too My Heart"

[angelltheninth]

There is More in You

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, struggles with self-worth, kissing/making out, words of affirmation, grinding, suggestive towards the end

Word count: 1.1k

Flufftober Day 30: Self-Worth / Self-Love

A/N: Have to have one last bit of angst with this flufftober and who better to have it with then Miguel. Also... should I make a spicy version of this?

For the past few months you've seen Miguel go from normal sleep, to few hours of sleep to you not even seeing him sleep at all. He claims he does sleep, but it's always a few hours he gets in his office chair, which isn't the most comfortable even for him with his powers. Worst then that his injuries have been getting more severe, from little scratches to bruises to his hands trembling when he'd put them in ice to stop the bleeding. It was self-destructive, dangerous, reckless, you knew it and so did all of his friends. But he doesn't listen to them.

"He'll listen to you, he always does." Lyla droned on as she hovered around you. "I tried talking to him and he shut me off, can you believe that guy? Me! His best ever assistant!" You've never seen a hologram so offended before.

"You don't think I tried? He tells me not to worry, that he's got this, that he's fine." Frustration kept building inside you for all those times when be brushed your concerns off with a smile and kiss. "Where is he anyway?" You've only seen him briefly when you ate together and even then he didn't say much to you, not like he used to.

"Where do you think?" Lyla pointed in the direction of his home office, where Miguel spent a lot of his time lately.

With a heavy sigh you thanked her, "I'll go and talk to him. Thanks Lyla."

"Any time. Good luck sweetheart." At least she still called you that. You missed hearing it from Miguel's mouth.

Opening the door you didn't find him at his desk, but on the floor doing push-ups, his hands wrapped up, still healing, same with his ribs, "Oh hey. Time to eat yet? I'll be out soon, I just got to-"

"No Miguel, it's still noon. Do you even know how long you've been in here?" His quick glance at the clock told you he had no idea, "Since dinner. You didn't even come out for breakfast. You… for gods sake Miguel, you spend more time in here then you do anywhere else." You wrapped your arms around yourself and looked at him, "Then you do with me." Your voice came out small, hurt, insecure.

He jumped up, ran his hand through his hair and looked at the mission reports on the desk, "Ah, I know I've been busy lately. But you… it's important that this… I really need to make sure everything is perfect."

"Perfect for who? Because I can tell you that everyone is worried about you. You don't sleep, you don't eat, you're throwing yourself into dangerous situations all the time and then you expect me not to worry. In case you for got, I'm your wife, so I don't get to stop worrying about you." He briefly looked at the wedding ring and photos on his desk, then back at you.

"You don't get it. I have to-" He paused, lips pressed together in frustration.

"Then help me understand. You hardly even talk to me anymore. I know your work is important and I don't have crazy superpowers like you and your friends, but I'm always here for you." The look in your eyes softened when you stepped closer to him and pressed your hands gently against his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat.

Miguel shook his head, frowning, "I know, and it's because of that… I need to do better. If I can't keep you safe, if I can't keep my team safe, if I send them on the wrong track, if I can't protect them…. if I can't do that then… what is all this for?" He gestured around the room, the inventions, the pictures, at himself, the bruises he has, "What am I for if I can't make sure you're safe?"

Rarely did you see him on the verge of tears. Frustration yes, stress, but not this distraught. "You work hard." You kissed the right side of his jaw, "You take care of your friends." The other side, a bit longer of a kiss, "You make sure to give them time with their loved ones." One kiss on his shoulder, "You're there if they wanna talk." Then the other shoulder, "You make sure to leave me messages when you leave." A very long kiss on his neck, "You can be such a romantic." You needed to raise up on your toes to place a kiss under his ear, "There is so much more to you then being a leader." Another kiss on his chin.

Miguel's eyes fluttered, big hands grasping at your hips, pulling you close. He all but melted against your affections. "I love you. I'm so sorry I haven't been showing it like I should have. You're right, and I can do better. I promise to do better."

"Haven't you been listening? You have to relax more, lean on other people, why not let Peter do a few things? Or that detective guy? Or… I don't know the one with the cool cowboy hat? You don't have to do anything alone. You can rely on me too." He half huffed, half chuckled before he kisses your lips, "And you know what else you're really good at?" You leaned in close, "Something that you've been neglecting lately…" His eyes dropped to your lips, no, even lower, "You're a damn good kisser, Mr. O'Hara."

"I am? I'm afraid I don't remember that? Could you please remind me, Mrs. O'Hara?" The grins disappeared off both your lips when they came together, pushing, pressing against each other like it's been years since they touched. Miguel's hands went up your body, against your smaller shoulders, holding you close to him while you pressed yourself further up, hands around his neck.

Changing the angle you sought to deepen the kiss, licking past his lips, against his fangs. Miguel groaned into your mouth, a sound that you haven't heard in this context for a while. You found yourself walking backwards, hitting the door, trapped against him. His lips left yours, but not your body, seeking the skin of your neck to latch onto as he hoisted you up, your legs hooking around his hips.

It's been so long since you felt him like this you couldn't stop yourself from moaning, seeking friction, rolling your hips against him, kissing every inch of him that could. How long has it been since you've had this? According to the ache between your legs, way too long. At least this time he was ready to do something about it.

[ellephlox]

Head Over Heels

Summary: It's technically not your fault that you sprained your ankle, but Matt's annoyed with you anyway (at least, he pretends to be annoyed with you — but you know better).

Pairing: Matt x Fem!Reader

Warnings: A few swears, but otherwise just a whole lot of whumptober fluff!

"You're going to hurt yourself."

"I am not."

"I just heard you nearly fall over in the bathroom—"

"Because I'm rushing, Matt, that's what happens when your partner holds you captive for too long in bed and makes you late for work!"

Matt was in the process of buttoning his work shirt, a task that you noticed was taking him nearly triple the time it usually took, because his attention was entirely on you. "No one at the presentation will care if you're not wearing heels, sweetheart."

"I care!" You jangled your keys, checked your pockets again for your wallet, and slipped on a jacket. "It's a fashion thing. High heels equal professionalism."

"I like to think that I'm a professional lawyer, and not once in my life have I ever had to wear high heels to court."

"You're overreacting. I'm like a gymnast in heels. Ready? Watch this."

Your stilettos clacking against the floor, you performed several twirls, rotating as though you were a ballerina. For the first few, Matt said nothing, but then he reached out and stopped you with a firm hand on your shoulder.

"The heels sound like precarious twigs," he said.

"They're not precarious and they're not twigs. They're pretty." For added effect you started to skip by him towards your purse.

"Just — please stop," Matt said, finishing with his last button and gesturing downward. "Walk like a normal person, at least?"

"Don't worry. I wasn't planning on skipping into the office," you assured him. "Look, I'll see you for lunch, okay? I've got to split."

"Twelve o'clock. And also promise me you won't twirl like that during your presentation," he said, and leaned in to kiss you before you left.

It was another of those impossibly busy days when you and Matt wouldn't be able to spend much time together. He was going to be in court the entire afternoon, and you had a major annual presentation for work, meaning that you'd both be out overtime and wouldn't get home until late. The bright side was that you both had an opening at noon to meet at a small diner in Hell's Kitchen and catch up over lunch.

You cursed your high heels as you tried to speed down the stairs of Matt's apartment. They really weren't conducive for someone who was running late. Halfway down, you lost your footing; the stem of the heel missed the edge of the step and you jolted downward.

And, mercifully, caught yourself on the railing.

Knowing for certain that Matt was listening to you and likely heard your misstep — as well as the way your heart was hammering from the adrenaline of nearly falling down a flight of stairs — you muttered aloud, "See? Everything's fine," and continued on your way. Shortly after, your phone vibrated with a text from Matt:

Are you trying to give me a heart attack?

Laughing to yourself, you stowed your phone back in your purse.

And the high heels did work out, for most of the morning. You gave your presentation and then buried yourself at your desk in paperwork, confined to work for the rest of the day on everything you'd fallen behind in while prepping for the presentation. You couldn't help but glance at the clock every ten minutes; noon was going to be the breath of fresh air in an otherwise stressful day.

Fifteen minutes to noon you got up from your desk and made your way out onto the street. The sun was shining, a soft balmy breeze carried the fragrance of blooming lilacs as you passed a small garden, and plush clouds drifted overhead idly.

And then, just as you were hurrying to crossing the street — technically the pedestrian light was red, but you had a solid seven seconds before the approaching car would actually reach you — there was an ominous snap, and you found yourself falling onto the pavement, your ankle rolling in the process.

Well, not just rolling. It felt more like your ankle was jerked down into a direction it definitely shouldn't have been in, accompanied by a soft pop and a flaring of sharp, throbbing pain.

The car that you would have easily made it past had to brake, honking angrily at you, and you waved vehemently in apology as you struggled to your feet — shit shit shit that hurts — and hobbled out of the street.

"Bitch!" the man shouted from his window as he accelerated by you, tossing a middle finger at you.

Usually that would probably be enough to ruin your day, being yelled at by a stranger, but you were much more preoccupied with the stabbing pain in your ankle. Did I break it? Should sprains hurt this much? You stared, stunned, at the broken stiletto that was half-dangling from your shoe. It had simply snapped in half, for no reason at all.

"Traitor," you muttered to it, taking shelter in the shade of a building to assess your ankle. Gingerly you tried touching it, but it flashed with pain as you pressed on it. Inhaling deeply and tilting your head backwards — do NOT cry don't cry don't cry don't cry— you began to continue your way to the diner.

Matt wasn't going to be happy about this. And you already knew there was no way you could hide it from him. You were limping so badly that it was difficult to walk; each movement felt as though you were tearing your ankle again. If you could arrive at the diner first and get yourself seated, then maybe you had a small chance of the injury going unnoticed, but your limping must have delayed you just enough, because you could see Matt through the window of the restaurant — he'd already arrived.

And his head was already tilted in a way that meant, yep, he's definitely onto me, he can already hear me.

"Hi," you greeted him weakly as you walked in, ignoring the fact that tears were spiking in your eyes. Matt was already on his feet, grabbing his cane almost as an afterthought and approaching you quickly.

"I didn't think it was you at first," he said, quietly so that other patrons in the diner wouldn't hear. "Your gait was so different. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's not so bad," you said, knowing he'd hear right through the lie, but not caring much in the moment.

"Let me feel it."

There was no sense in objecting; Matt, you knew, wouldn't be satisfied until he'd done his radar scanning of it so that he could know precisely what was going on in your ankle. "Okay," you agreed. "But let's use the bathroom. These people trying to enjoy their meals don't need to see you feeling up my ankle."

It was a single-user bathroom, fortunately. Matt entered first and held the door open for you, and only once it was shut and locked did he abandon his cane and stoop by your feet. You leaned against the sink as his fingers grazed your ankle.

"What's my diagnosis, Mr. X-Ray?" you asked, trying to come off as playful, but it was hard hiding the pain in your voice. It didn't help that Matt wasn't having it. He stood up, hands on his hips, jaw twitching.

"You fully tore the ligament," he said. "I told you that those heels would get you hurt."

"Whoa, excuse me. This was not my fault. I didn't trip. The heel just happened to snap on me, so it is one hundred percent, completely, utterly, not my fault."

"You knowingly wore dangerous shoes," Matt insisted.

"Stilettos aren't inherently dangerous, Matt! They're shoes! I just got a bit unlucky—"

"Unlucky? You can hardly walk."

"I'm fine," you said, a bit more firmly, and tried, recklessly, to do the twirl you had done that morning to prove it, but had to stop immediately because it sent a rocketing flare of pain through your leg. "Ow. Shit."

Matt steadied you instinctively. "You should take the rest of the day off and go to the doctor."

"No way. I'm so far behind in work. Besides, I'm good once I'm sitting, it's just walking that's hard."

Matt said nothing at first, but helped you get from the bathroom to the booth, one hand loosely holding his cane and the other supporting you as you leaned on him. You were grateful for his strength practically holding you up; already your ankle was swelling and walking alone would have made a scene. Still, it earned a few stares from several of the other people eating in the diner, but you ignored them.

"I guess I should clarify," Matt said, only once you were seated. "You are taking the rest of the day off."

You furrowed your brow, outraged. "You can't tell me what to do."

"And I'd really recommend seeing a doctor," he continued, "because—"

"Last week you—" You realized your voice was loud and lowered it to a whisper. "Last month you came flopping onto the bed at three in the morning, gasping for breath because you fractured a rib, and when I begged you to see a doctor, you said, 'I'm fine. Don't worry about me so much.' Don't you see how much of a hypocrite you are?"

"I don't care whether or not I'm a hypocrite, I care that you go to the doctor," he said, then added, "But if you don't, you're at least not going back to work. You need to rest, elevate the ankle, and ice it."

You bit your lip. "What if I simply refuse?"

"Then I'll call Claire and make her come pay us a visit tonight to check on you."

The thought of burdening Claire with having to make a trip out to Matt's apartment just for your sake was enough to make your cheeks burn. "You wouldn't."

"I would," he said. "Unless you at the very least stay home the rest of the day and ice your ankle."

"I can't believe you." You fell into silence, punctuated only by the waitress coming to take your beverage orders. Once she left, you tried to brighten things a bit, because Matt's mouth was curved in such an unhappy frown that it was beginning to stress you out. "At least it wasn't my favorite pair of stilettos. If it had been, I might be tempted to try super-gluing the heel back on."

It didn't seem to improve his mood, because Matt didn't smile. "I'd prefer if you just stuck to flats from now on."

"That's a lie. I know you love my heels," you said, impetuously leaning across the table to grab his hands. "You may not be able to see my legs, but I know you can sense them, and I know that stilettos make them, like, ten times sexier."

"You know what's not sexy? A sprained ankle."

"Wow. Thanks for really bulldozing my self-esteem." You paused. "If my ankle makes me so un-sexy, then maybe I'll just... sleep on the couch tonight instead. Wouldn't want you to be near me if I'm all sprained-ankle-ish."

"You're impossible."

"I have a better idea. I can be bait," you said, watching Matt's expression carefully. "I'll stumble out onto the streets tonight — you know, all 'Woe is me, I've got a sprained ankle' — and that'll attract every mugger in the vicinity, seeing a vulnerable girl alone. They won't be able to help themselves, they'll just be dying to come over and rob me. And then, lo and behold! Daredevil dives in and catches all of Hell's Kitchen's criminals in one fell swoop."

Sure enough, you could see an irritated amusement in Matt's mouth, the type that meant he was torn between smiling and getting annoyed. "I'll agree to that plan when Foggy learns how to meditate for more than five minutes at a time."

The waitress arrived and took your orders. You sipped on the water she had delivered, your eyes not leaving Matt's face.

"What is it?" he said, finally. "You're dying to say something."

"Yeah. I want you to admit that it's not my poor high heels you're angry with. You're just worried about me."

"Can't it be both?"

"Leave my high heels out of this and admit it, Matt."

"Fine. I'm worried about you. Does that make you happy?"

"Sure does," you said, squeezing his hands and smiling. "By the way... did I ever mention that I'm head over heels in love with you?"

"Oh, my God."

A/N: This was just a short piece inspired by two separate asks I received that fit together quite well:

Prompt 1: hi!!! could you do a hurt/comfort where reader breaks her heel and sprains her ankle while walking home and matt finds her??

Prompt 2: May I request a Matt fic? I've been seeing girls on YouTube that test their heels out by running around in front of their s/o, and I thought it would be really funny with a clumsy reader and Matt having an absolute heart attack. Thanks!

Just realized that I completely altered the first prompt by having them meet at a diner rather than Matt finding her, so I apologize! I hope it was still alright to read :) happy whumptober, everyone!

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

In A Rut (Monster!Hawks x Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Keigo “Hawks” Takami x Black!Fem!Reader (Coworkers to Lovers)

Synopsis: You haven't seen your boss around the office in a while ever since he started feeling "under the weather", but when you decide to visit him one day to cheer him up with some soup, you realize that this isn't a normal spring cold. Your boss is in heat and you, his good little assistant, are the only one who can help him cure it.

Warnings: Monsterfucking; Monsterfucker!Reader; Mild Power Play; Boss x Assistant; Mild BDSM; MDom/fsub; Marking; Heat Symptoms; Hawks Has a Big ol’ Dick; Deepthroat; Cunnilingus; Sloppy, Rough Sex; Scent Play; Overstimulation; Ownership; Multiple Orgasms; Multiple Creampies; Multiple Positions; Cum Play; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Happy spring, y'all!! 💐💐🌼🌼🌻🌻 Fucking FINALLY winter & the cold is gone! Now that the weather is heating up, I wanted to write something about my favorite birdman suffering from heat. Enjoy! -Jazz

********

You’re worried about Mr. Takami. 

Or “Hawks” as he’s told several of his employees, staff, and interns to call him around his agency time and time again. But as his personal assistant for over a year, you take respect and professionalism very seriously. 

Hawks is one of the most laidback bosses you’ve had in your professional career. He doesn’t make you fetch coffee unless you’re getting some for yourself, he’s flexible with deadlines, he lets you go home early despite the workload, and has all of his employees take off on Fridays…which he also pays for. 

Though it’s a nice change, you also can’t help but be wary of Hawks. It isn’t that he’s a bad guy. He is considerably nice––always greeting you in the mornings; checking up on you in the afternoons; letting you use his office when he isn’t in it, etc.

But he is also extremely cocky. It comes with the territory of being pro hero #2, you suppose, but the way he saunters into the office every Monday through Thursday in his designer clothes and Rolex watch always rubs you the wrong way. 

Not to mention he’s a humongous flirt. Your friend calls it being “overly friendly”. She also says he doesn’t flirt with any other woman at his agency like he does you. He always gives you those charming smiles that seem to irk you to no end and puts that flirty lilt in his voice when he speaks to you. Not to mention the constant compliments on your outfits and work that stick with you until the end of your shifts. 

Last week on Monday, the last day you saw him, was no different. You were sitting with your friend at your desk that morning, sipping on your iced coffee before the 9 AM meeting. Your friend was giving you the latest gossip on two employees hooking up in the stairwell during lunch last week when you both saw Hawks sauntering into the office. 

“Shh, shh!” she hushes you even though you didn’t say anything. She straightened up and smiled at your boss, bowing. “Good morning, Mr. Takami,” she chirps. The blonde, in his navy blue suit and red bottoms, gave you each a smile that lingered on you for too long. “Ladies,” he greets. 

You looked away, busying yourself by checking your email. “I’ve got your schedule and plans for today’s meeting for you,” your friend said, passing him a folder. “And your coffee, made by yours truly.” She nudged you, making you narrow your eyes at her. 

“Ah, thank you!” Hawks happily sighed. “And I told you before: just call me Hawks. I don’t need all of that ‘Mr’ shit.” His golden eyes then trailed down to you, his stare making you feel uncomfortable in your long-sleeve blouse. “Thank you, Ms. L/N,” he purrs. “See you at the meeting?” 

He gave you a wink, a hint at his joking manner, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. He was always picking on you like this. “I’m required to be there as your assistant so, yes,” you replied, blandly so.

He didn’t think anything of it. “Good,” he hummed happily. “I’ll need my right hand when I get tired of talking or my coffee doesn’t kick in fast enough. Carry on.” 

He gave you a flitting wink before walking off to his office for some time alone. Once gone, your friend fanned herself. “Oh, my God, he’s so fucking fine!” she groaned. You shushed her, hitting her arm. “Come on, his office is right there!” you hissed. “He might hear you!” 

“But isn’t he so fine?” your friend went on, ignoring your warning. “You have to admit that he’s fine!” You chose your words carefully, stirring your straw around in your coffee. “He’s…okay,” you weakly replied. “But he’s our boss! Whatever I think of him doesn’t matter.” At least you told yourself that. 

The meeting was about new anti-discrimination policies in workplaces and merging with UA High and Indeed to create a special job website for aspiring pro heroes and those with quirks. 

You sat across from Hawks and Rumi, his friend and co-owner of the agency, who sipped on her coffee free of cream and sugar. “Took you long enough,” she grumbled to Hawks. “What, you forget to fluff your feathers this mornin’ or somethin’?” 

You giggled to yourself at her joke before the meeting started. You met with Principal Nezu who happily bowed in front of the laptop personally set up to meet his eye level. “Good morning, everyone!” he exclaimed. “I appreciate all of you for your time today, including the Indeed associates, and for Hawks for allowing me to take you away from work for a moment. Now, Hawks, if you would like to share your opinion first?” 

The pro sat back in his chair, legs crossed and glasses perched on his eyes. You secretly liked it when he wore glasses. “I think it’s a perfect idea,” he said with a shrug. “As I’m sure all of you know, my agency is open to all new talent, whether they graduated from UA or not. We don’t discriminate against anyone with a particular quirk or education. As long as they are willing to learn, respect our rules, and participate in training, we will hire them.” 

“But what if the public has concerns about who we hire and whether they will be able to effectively do their jobs with no UA education or license?” one of the Indeed associates asked. Hawks smiled. “I’m glad you asked that.” He nodded at you, smiling warmly. “Y/N, would you mind answering this question? After all, it’s your wonderful brain that came out with such a well-thought-out plan for this.” 

Though you flushed at the compliment, you pushed those butterflies away and stood. “This agency is not new to the scrutiny of the public,” you explain, poised and calm. “Hawks and Nezu-san are proposing the opening of a new pro hero license program for those who cannot afford UA or are over the age of 18. This program would include…” You continued just as you rehearsed, not looking at Hawks who looked dead at you, almost as if he was staring through your clothes. 

When you finally finished, you sat and Nezu thanked you for your well-spoken words. “What is your opinion on that, Hawks?” he asked. The pro didn’t answer, too busy staring at you. Now his eyes were hooded and looked slightly sharper than they were before. You squirmed uncomfortably in your seat, mostly because of how warm his stare made you. 

“Hawks!” Rumi hisses in his ear. The blonde blinked, snapping out of it. “Huh?” he dumbly asked, looking up at the screen. “Are you alright?” Nezu worriedly asked. Everyone was staring at him, including you. He had never acted like this before. “Yeah, just…” He paused, clearing his throat as a flush appeared on his cheeks. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” 

Nezu repeated himself, asking for Hawks’ opinion on the internship program and when he’d prefer to announce it. “It is the spring already, but I believe the summer is when most of my student body will be looking to do internships,” he explained. 

You watched as Hawks’ eyes grew wide at the mention of spring, but he did his best to keep it lowkey. But you noticed. “U-Uh, yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll do it in April.” You also noticed his body language for the rest of the meeting: his knee bouncing anxiously; his eyes flicking from yours to back at the screen or down at his papers; his cheeks flushed red. 

Was he sick? Was it the coffee you made? After the meeting, Rumi confronted him on it, grabbing his elbow. “Hey, what the hell happened in there?” she asked. “You looked like you were about to deck Y/N!” 

“I…sorry,” he huffed. “I just…” He paused, seeing you and his eyes roamed over your lower body in your pencil skirt. “I need to go to the bathroom,” he quickly replied before rushing off to his office. You followed him. You don’t know why you did. Maybe you felt obligated to do so as if his assistant. Maybe you just needed to make sure he was okay. 

So you knocked on his door, tentatively so. “Come in,” he raggedly said. You opened the door and automatically closed it behind you. Hawks leaned against his desk, his back to you, breathing concerningly hard like he just got off the treadmill. 

“Mr. Takami?” you questioned. Your heels clicked against the hardwood floor as you walked farther into his spacious, high-rise office. “Hawks, is everything alright?” Hawks didn’t look at you as he spoke: “Y-Yeah,” he replied, still sounding winded. “What’s up?” 

You stood two feet away from him, afraid to get near. You didn’t want to spook him or cross any boundaries. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be writing a ‘thank you’ email on your behalf to Nezu-san and the Indeed associates,” you lied though you were planning on doing that anyway.

But Hawks shook his head. “Don’t bother. You did a good job today, Y/N.” His voice sounded so off. It was usually light and syrupy, but now it sounded deep and raspy. It did things to you. 

“Did I do something wrong?” you blurted, confused at his strange behavior. The blonde quickly shook his head, turning slightly towards you. His sleeves were rolled up, showing off his forearms and the feather tattoo on the inside of his left wrist. “No, no, of course not!” he protested. “I’m just…not feeling well.” 

“Well, you know you can always go home,” you said. “We can hold down the fort here like we always do.” Finally, Hawks turned around and you saw how flushed he looked, his cheeks a rouge hue. He gave a smile that felt too intimate. Too adoring. “Thank you,” he sighed. “That’s so like you. Always so professional. Always so sweet.” 

He took a step toward you and instinctively, you took a step back. “M-Mr. Takami?” you weakly asked. He continued to walk to you until you finally stood with your back to the wall, unable to escape him. His cologne clouded your senses, the scent of sweet and spicy invading your nostrils as he stopped in front of you. 

“Y/N,” he began, his voice breathlessly and soft. “I…” He stopped, raising his hand to touch you. And then he stopped, dropping his hand and using it to cover his mouth instead. “I-I’m sorry,” he muffingly said. “You should go. I don’t wanna get you sick.” 

Quickly, he reached beside you with his free hand and opened the door. The sound of chatter, coffee machines, and ringing phones smacked you back to reality. “You should go,” he said, his eyes willing you to do so. So you did and he shut the door in your face, leaving you feeling breathlessly and hot. 

That was over a week ago. After the work day, Hawks headed home and sent out a staff meeting the next morning about being out because of a “spring cold”, but he’d be back soon. “Soon” hasn’t come yet. You haven’t heard anything from him in days! 

It’s starting to worry you. A spring cold can’t last this long. Is it the flu? Is it something else? Plus, no one can seem to get in contact with him. What if something bad happened to him? 

These worrying thoughts swim in your head all week every time you see Hawks’ empty office. 

Finally, you reach your breaking point. You’re not going to call, text, or email him. You’re going to be a good assistant and instead, bring him something to let him know that you’re checking on him. Something to make him feel better. So on Friday, you leave work after your shift and stop by your favorite cafe to buy a bowl of their best chicken noodle soup.

You then drive to Hawks’ penthouse on the Upper East side of the city having kept his address to deliver things from work to his house if need be. When you park your car, you walk to the front door and click a button to buzz to his room. At first, nothing happens, so you press it again. Finally, on the third buzz, someone answers. 

“Yeah?” a deep, raspy, growly voice barks. It startles you. “Uh…I’m sorry, do I have the wrong room?” you ask. “I’m looking for Keigo Takami.” The other end of the line pauses and you think that they left. “Y/N?” they ask, sounding shocked. “Why are you here?” 

You blink at the speaker, shocked that this is your boss talking to you. Why does he sound like that? Is he that hoarse? “I came to give you some soup,” you say, suddenly shy. “I haven’t heard from you in days, so I bought this just to let up your spirits. That must be some cold.” 

You wait for a response, but when he never gives it to you, you begin to feel stupid. This was a mistake. “Well, I’m gonna go now, but I’ll give it to your doorman so he can–” 

“Don’t,” Hawks interrupts though he still sounds strained. “Come up.” You scowl in confusion, wondering if you misheard that, but then his doorman is meeting you at the front door to guide you to the elevator up to Hawks’ penthouse with the soup. 

You take the elevator up, your heart pounding and your hands shaking slightly as they hold the soup. You almost explode from your nerves when you finally make it upstairs and the doors open, revealing Hawks’ beautiful, luxurious, and empty penthouse with an included gameroom, private gym, balcony, pool, mini bar, and expensive-looking kitchen. But he is nowhere to be found. 

You walk further into the living room, your heels clicking across the hardwood floor. “Hawks?” you call. You don’t get any answer right away. The home is uncomfortably silent, making you feel paranoid. “Hawks!” you call again, louder this time. “Where are you?” 

“Upstairs!” he rasps from the staircase leading to the upper floor. “Don’t come up here!” He sounds so pained. In such agony. You place the soup on the counter, confused and worried. What’s going on? Why does he sound like he’s in trouble? 

Not listening at all to your boss’ warning, you slowly head up the steps, taking each tentative step further up in your heels. The hallway is dark when you finally make it upstairs, the only door open being the one at the end of the hallway. It is cracked and through it, you hear the sound of your boss’ soft pants and grunts of pain. Hawks’ bedroom. 

Though something inside of you is telling you to turn around, you persevere and walk towards the bedroom. Slowly, you push the door open, revealing a dark masterbedroom with drawn curtains blocking out the outside world. “Hawks?” you tentatively question. “It’s just me. I just came to–” 

“Go away!” he bellows from inside. “I told you not to come up here!” You jump, startled by the volume of his voice. He’s never yelled at you in such a way. You poke your head inside and gasp at the absolute mess of his bedroom: furniture askew; clothes and empty water bottles discarded on the floor; a rumbled mess of red sheets on the bed.

The smell in the air is thick with sweat and something else. Something tropical. Coconut oil? You look towards the king-sized bed where a heap sits hunched under the sheets which move up and down as it pants heavily. You thought it was just a pile of clothes at first, but no. There’s something under there. 

“Hawks?” you question, your voice wavering in fear. The strange heap stirs, reacting to your voice. It breathes raggedly, almost as if it can’t get enough air in its lungs. “Hawks, what’s going on?” you demand. “Tell me. I want to help you.” 

But he turns away, the sheets shifting as he does. “You can’t,” he whines. “You can’t.” Not being able to take how he sounds anymore, you storm over to the bed and snatch the sheets off of him. There, under the covers, you see your boss with your own two eyes. “H-Hawks?” you whisper. “Is that you?” 

You almost can’t believe it. He has gotten much bigger in the past couple of days since you’ve last seen him, his muscles almost bulging. His pecs are ridiculously big, his nipples hard and perky, and veins protrude from his forearms and hands. Speaking of hands, they barely resemble human hands anymore. Red feathers sprout from his skin and long, sharp talons have grown out of his fingernails like knives. 

When he looks at you, his face is flushed and his eyes are nothing more than red slits, those warm, golden irises gone. But all of those things aren’t even the most shocking to you. You are more shocked by the size of his wings. They have doubled in size, nearly taking up the entirety of the bed, and are red as the purest blood. His feathers shake and ruffle as if someone has run their fingers through them, disturbing their peace. 

He looks shocked to see you and then embarrassed. “I didn’t want you comin’ up here,” he pants. “Didn’t want you seein’ me like…this.” He shifts and sits up so the sheet falls off of him, revealing his naked body to you. He is flushed and coated in sweat all over his tan skin and toned muscles. Your eyes trail down his abs and V-line to his cock which is way too obvious to look away from. 

He is big and throbbing, the head a blush red and dripping in precum. One mouth-watering, angry vein trails from his shaft up to the head of his cock that twitches. Hawks winces, not looking like he is enjoying this at all. In fact, he looks like he’s in complete agony. You can’t be embarrassed or mortified by this when he looks so awful. “W-What happened to you?” you softly gasp. 

He covers his throbbing dick with the sheet, but it’s no use. You can still see it protruding from underneath it, creating an obvious tent. “I’m in heat,” he sighs. “It’s what us mammals go through around this time. A spring thing.”

He wipes the sweat off of his forehead, his blonde hair soaked in it. “That’s why I’ve been hiding,” he explains. “I’ve been here tryna get through this, but I just…can’t!” 

He grabs at his hair, running his hands through it. Now you understand it: his absence; the transformation; the smell of coconut oil in the air. You feel yourself blush, feeling hot in your clothes. All of this because he’s horny?

“How long does it last?” you curiously ask, but you’re not even sure you want to know. Hawks sighs, looking doomed. “Either a day or months depending on if my heat is satisfied.” 

“Months?” you gasp. “Are you in pain?” 

Hawks’ face screws up, triggering something in your core. “Terrible, baby,” he groans, wrapping a hand around his cock, his talons long enough to curl around the entire thing...and he’s at least 12 inches. “I can’t even sleep. I’ve been up for days, sweatin’ through my sheets and tryin’ to cum as many times as I can.” He releases himself and looks down at his hands, clenching them. “But my hands don’t do it for me anymore and I broke my fuckin’ toy.” 

He nods at the fleshlight you didn’t even notice lying near his nightstand, completely broken in half. He completely tore that pussy out the frame, you realize in shock. What the fuck could he do to a real one? “O-Oh,” you exhale. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, running his hand down his sweaty face. “I’m sorry about this, Y/N, really. I didn’t want anyone seein’ me like this.” He looks away from you, appearing so utterly humiliated and ashamed that it pains you. You find yourself not liking him like this: so utterly downtrodden and hopeless. “What can I do?” you blurt. 

He faces you, his slitted eyes widening. “What?” he gasps. “What do you–” 

“I wanna help you, Hawks,” you cut in, already taking off your cardigan to reveal your pretty, pink blouse underneath that you paired with a skirt. “What can I do to help you get through this?” 

He watches you, looking completely stunned and mortified, but his cock also twitches at the sight of your outfit. “No, no, baby, no,” he protests. “Y-You can’t…you don’t need to do this.” But you stand firm on your decision, refusing to leave him like this. “I know I don’t need to,” you firmly respond. “I want to. Just look at you! I can’t let you go on like this.” 

Hawks still doesn’t move, but his cock begins to leak pre for you, dripping down his thick thighs and onto the mattress. The sight is so lewd but so arousing, making your pussy throb indeciently in your panties. You shouldn’t be doing this. There are so many consequences you could face from this…but you also find that you don’t care right now. “Let me help you, Hawks,” you whisper. “Just tell me what I need to do to help you. I’m your assistant, after all.” 

A fire explodes behind Hawks’ eyes, lit with lust and need. A low growl leaves his chest and you find that he has fangs in his mouth. The sight scares and thrills you. “You wanna help me?” he asks in his low, deep voice. “Then take off your clothes.” 

You swallow hard, feeling like you just dry-swallowed a gigantic pill. You start with your blouse, your painted fingernails teasing the buttons before you begin to pop them open one by one. You expose your lacy bra to him, one of your favorites because of how it makes your breasts look: pretty, juicy, and appetizing with the lace trim of the cups adorning them. 

You peel off the blouse and let it fall to your feet. Hawks barely notices it, too busy staring dead at your chest. He slowly begins to pump his cock with his hand, lewd, wet sounds of his pre and coconut oil acting as lubricants drifting to your ears. Under his laser-eyed gaze, you feel like an animal being watched behind a cage. A specimen. It makes you feel slightly uncomfortable, but also hot and bothered to see that you’re affecting him so deeply. 

You then move to your skirt and begin to unzip it, but Hawks puts a hand out to stop you. “Slowly, mama,” he raggedly says. “Don’t rush this.” Biting your lip, you slowly drag the zipper down and then slide the skirt off of your waist, leaving you in just your matching bra and panties. You go to take off your stockings and heels, but he stops you. “Leave ‘em on,” he demands. 

So you stand there, arms at your sides and trembling like a leaf. “Turn around,” he orders, his pink lips parted as he continues to fuck his hand nice and slow. You listen and turn, exposing your ass to him. “Ah, shit,” he hisses, soft pants leaving his lips. “I knew you had a nice ass.” 

You bite your lip, feeling your pussy flutter and throb impatiently. “Sit on the bed and bend over for me,” he orders. “I’m not gonna touch you. I just wanna see you rub that pussy for me, okay?” 

You turn around, staring down at your shoes. “Yes, sir,” you whisper and flush at your words. They just came out of you, as naturally as breathing. 

Hawks shudders, affected by your reply. “Such a good girl,” he sighs dreamily. “I’ll definitely take that over just ‘Hawks’ right now. But ‘Keigo’ works too.” Your face grows hot with a blush, having never referred to him by his first name before. Not wanting to waste his time, you slowly get on the bed and face away from him, your feet tucked under your butt. 

Then you bend over for him, your back arched. “Yes, that’s it,” he encourages, softly panting and the move bouncing slightly from his ministrations on himself. “Pull those panties to the side, baby. Let me see you.” Biting your lip so hard that you’re sure to draw blood, you pull the thin strip of cotton covering your sodden, wet, puffy pussy to the side and expose all of you to him. 

Hawks shudderingly moans at the sight of the wet strand of your arousal connected from your pussy lips to your panties. “God, mama,” he groans. “You have the prettiest pussy. Look how wet you are!” He growls once more, sounding so much like an animal. “You like what you’re doin’ to me?” You can tell he’s started to stroke himself harder, faster, his pants and heavy breaths becoming more intense. “Keigo,” you softly whimper. 

You’ve never been this horny before. Your pussy is about to slide off the bone with how wet it is. 

“That’s right, say my name,” he groans. “Play with your pussy, baby. Don’t let me do this alone.” 

So you do. You sneak your hand down your ass, teasing him before you begin to rub your cunt for him in time with his strokes. A weak moan leaves your lips as you rub your clit in tiny, firm circles, your ministrations impassioned by the sounds leaving Hawks’ lips. He sounds so desperate. So slutty as he pumps his cock, imagining that he’s doing so to your pretty, little pussy. “So fuckin’ cute,” he says, agonized at your beauty and sexiness. “How the fuck are you this adorable?” 

You want to look back and see him, but you get the feeling that he doesn’t want to be watched, so you instead close your eyes and drift away at the sounds of his moans and his lubed cock fucking his hand, making the bed bounce slightly underneath you. You imagine that he’s fucking you like that, his big hands gripping your ass and talons digging into the fleshy part of your ass cheeks. You can almost feel his cock stretching you out, pumping you full again and again as he uses you, doing his best to not break you like he did his fleshlight. 

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. “K-Keigo!” you whine. “Fuck, I’m about to cum!” Hawks groans at your warning, happy to hear this. “Uh-huh,” he pants. “Do it for me, baby. Cum all over those fingers for me.” 

And you do. You rub and flick your clit until it can’t take any more stimulation and explodes all over your hand. Your sweet moans of release push Hawks over the edge. “Fuck!” he bellows, his voice bouncing off of the walls as he cums in his hand, shooting warm cum all over his thighs and stomach. Your moans and whines mix with one another, creating a symphony of pleasure as you both cum together. 

When the high of your orgasms finally fades, you both sit there for a moment, panting and sitting in the reality of your situation. “I…I’m sorry,” Hawks awkwardly huffs.

You don’t answer, unsure of what to say until you turn around and find that he’s still hard. “Keigo!” you gasp. “Y-You’re still–” 

“I know,” he sighs, frustration evident in his handsome face. “Like I said, my hands ain’t doin’ it for me at this point. I need more.”

His slitted eyes, red as crimson blood, narrow at you, a deeper meaning in his words. You gulp, weighing your options but only briefly. You realize you’re thinking more with your pussy than with your head, but the curiosity of feeling Hawks’ wings wrapped around you while he fucks you is too tempting. 

“Keigo, it’s okay,” you softly purr, putting a hand on his thigh. He flinches as if your touch burns him. “We can do more if you need it.” You then dip your fingers between your thighs and come back with them dripping in your cum. His cock twitches at the sight, but he doesn’t have to imagine how you taste for too long. 

You lean forward and put your fingers to his lips. “Use me,” you say, a plea in your voice. “I’m all yours.”

Right then, something in Hawks snaps the moment he wraps his lips around your fingers and greedily sucks your cum off of them. He is no longer entirely human, his animal instincts taking over. He snatches you up and places you in his lap, emitting a small gasp from you at being yanked up so forcefully. “Just tell me ‘no’ if you want me to stop,” he orders. “And tap my thigh three times if I got my cock in that mouth. Understand me?” 

Unable to reply, you wordlessly nod. That’s enough for him. Immediately, he’s on you, pressing a rough yet passionate kiss to your lips, nibbling on your bottom lip and swirling his tongue with yours. His kiss is brutal yet hot; forceful yet careful as he wraps you up in his arms and soft wings. It’s the best kiss you’ve had in your life. 

And the sex he gives you by far trumps all of the other bedroom adventures you’ve had. You’re so glad he gave you a non-verbal safety precaution because Hawks takes the “use” thing literally when he finally gets his dick down your throat. He is as big and thick as he looks, your fingers barely being able to wrap around his girty, throbbing shaft. 

You have to cover his cock in copious amounts of spit and coconut oil just to make it easier to stroke him, Hawks’ crimson, lustful eyes and soft moans encouraging you. “That’s it, baby bird,” he growls, one clawed hand in your hair. “Take me nice and easy.” Though he allows you to slowly take his cock down your throat, it doesn’t do much to ease the stretch of your jaw. 

Unfortunately for you, Hawks’ heat gets the best of him and his impatience rises, making your time to adjust to his size shorter. When he grabs your hair and begins to fuck your face, you have no choice but to take it. He shoves his cock so deep down your throat that your eyes burn with tears and embarrassing, wet gagging sounds leave your mouth as you gurgle around his cock that throbs and pulses in your mouth. 

“Thaaat’s my girl,” Hawks grunts, staring down at you throating his dick. “You’re takin’ this dick like a champ, baby bird, y’know. You could make this a profession if workin’ as an assistant don’t work out.” He takes his cock out and taps it against your tongue, loving how slutty you look for him with your tongue hanging out and makeup a mess. 

“Or you could add this to your duties of bein’ my little assistant,” he hums, smearing his cockhead across your plump lips. “You could fetch my coffee and take this dick over my desk every workday. How would that sound?” He doesn’t allow you to answer as he grabs you again and forces you down onto his cock, groaning at how amazing your wet tongue and soft mouth feel. “God!” he groans. “I hope your pussy is this fuckin’ tight.” 

His curiosity gets the best of him. After a few minutes of fucking your throat like it’s a toy, he pulls out with a moan, giving you heart eyes at the image of your messy hair and sloppy mouth dripping in spit. He holds your face in his big hands, his talons gently caressing your cheeks. “On your back,” he orders. You must go too slow for him because he tosses you down onto your backside himself and quickly ducks between your thighs, his big, feathered hands parting them. 

“K-Keigo,” you stammer, but that’s all you can get out before he’s cutting the waistband of your panties off with his teeth and sliding his big, fat, wet tongue all over your slit.

All words cease to exist as pleasure washes over you which only builds the more his tongue swirls against your clit and inside of you. Your eyes widen and your hands dig into the skin of his muscular back that flexes as he dips his head low to eat you out. His soft wings caress your skin as they wrap around you, making you feel like you’re being pampered from all ends. 

Hawks knows how to run his mouth, but also knows how to work it. His tongue moves magically inside of you, slurping up your juices as his nose and soft lips bump against your clit. You grind your hips up into him, meeting his tongue thrusts while his talons dig into the fleshy parts of your ass.

You can’t keep quiet, too enveloped in the ecstasy you’re feeling. “God, yes, Keigo!” you whine, bucking your hips up. “That feels so fuckin’ good! Keep going, please, ooooh, shit!” 

Hawks gladly takes all of those lovely sounds, moaning into your cunt. He is a rapid, ravenous animal, slurping up your pussy like he’s yearning for it. “So good,” he whines into your clit. “So fuckin’ good.” 

Your orgasm comes rather quickly, that knot in your core threatening to snap as he continues to work his tongue in and out of you. “Fuck, Kei!” you sob. “I’m gonna fuckin’ cum! Please let me cum, sir please!” 

“Mmm-hmm,” Keigo hums, sucking gently on your pussy lips. “Do it for me, baby bird. Cum all over my fucking face.” He goes back to eating you out, moving his tongue against that little spot up and inside of you that makes you see stars. “Do it,” he growls in his deep, gravelly voice. “Fuckin’ cum for me. Give it to me now!” 

A scream erupts from you–”Oh, shit!”–as you explode all over Hawks’ tongue. He moans in release with you as he slurps and laps you up, drinking in all that give him while you buck and writhe under his hands. Even when the orgasm high fades, he doesn’t stop. He continues to eat you out even as your pussy and body twitches. “O-Okay, Hawks,” you stammer. “Please, ah, please stop. I-I can’t…oh, my God!” 

Tears prick your eyes as the agonizing pleasure continues, swallowing you whole. His crimson eyes stare up into yours between your thighs, loving how desperate and pathetically horny you look as you writhe against his tongue. But as good as you taste, he needs to know how you feel. So he hikes himself up on top of you, his big body covering your smaller one, and his wings creating a curtain around you. 

“I’m gonna be honest with you, baby,” he pants. “I need to fuck you now and when I do, I ain’t gonna be nice. I need to cum as many times as it takes to ease this heat and that could be hours. You sure you’re okay with that?” Despite his obvious need, he is holding back, his cock throbbing against your thigh. 

Knowing that, you nod and press a kiss to his lips. “Yes, Keigo,” you purr. “I want this too.” You give him a smile, pretty and seductive. “So fuck me.”

The pro doesn’t need to be told twice. He starts by fucking you on your back, your knees tucked up into your chest. You’re happy for the lubricant and orgasm because it is a stretch. His cock stretches your pussy out in a way it didn’t do to your jaw, making your mouth go slack and your eyes widen. “Relax, mama,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your face while he rubs your clit. “You’re doin’ so well takin’ me.” 

After a few minutes of adjusting and slow strokes, Hawks feels you relax around him and finally begins to pound you like he needs to. He fucks you into the mattress that shakes and bounces beneath you, making your tits bounce in time with his thrusts. Each pump of his thick cock sends sparks of pleasure throughout your body as your soft, spongy pussy walls stretch and mold into his shape. 

“O-Oh, my God!” you cry, grasping his shoulders as he takes you straight to poundtown. “Fuck, Keigo, yes, baby! Fuck me just like that!” 

The winged pro grips your thighs and pins them down to the bed, giving you a stretch that yoga couldn’t even do. “Just like that?” he teasingly asks, smirking down at you. “Look at you takin’ this dick like a champ, baby bird. Bet you couldn’t wait for your boss to fuck you, huh?” 

You whine in response, earning a tongue shoved in your mouth as Hawks gives you a wet French kiss while he pounds into you. He nuzzles his nose into your neck next, covering himself in your scent and you in his.

You’re so deep in the pleasure that you don’t even realize that Hawks’ feathers, sharpened to the touch, cut off your bra until you feel the cool air on your nipples and then pleasure as he stimulates them with his feathers. 

When he begins to get closer, his crimson eyes glow red and the black rimming his eyes grows sharper like a hawk’s. You feel scared yet aroused at the same time, your pussy clenching around his cock. “I’m gonna cum, baby,” he grunts. “Gonna fill you up. Want you to fuckin’ cum with me too!” 

“Fuck, Hawks!” you whine, tossing your head back against the pillow. Your second orgasm erupts and sends you on a trip while Keigo fucks you like he’s trying to hit a home run. When he cums, he does so with an animalistic grunt and grips your hips so hard that they bruise. He tosses his blonde hair back, every muscle in his body tense from the pleasure. You gasp as he fills you up with his cum, feeling warmth flooding inside of you. It feels good to be full, you realize. 

But even when the orgasm fades and he has successfully filled you up, Hawks looks down at you with an increased level of need and lust that shakes you. “I ain’t done with you yet,” he growls. 

And he’s not. He fucks you in every single position imaginable. He fucks you doggy style, his cock pumping into you again and again while he yanks on your hair and dirty talks in your ear.

“You my little slut?” he pants, his hand grabbing and smacking your ass. “You love gettin’ fucked by me? You love this number 2 pro hero dick, don’t you, baby?” You can only whine in response, words and logical thoughts completely gone as he turns your pussy into mush. 

He fucks you on your side, his big body spooning yours and red wings wrapped around you as his throbbing cock drives inside of you. In this position, it’s easier to rub your clit and tilt your head back to kiss him, the two of you sharing breath as you hotly pant and moan into each other’s mouths. 

He fucks you with your head hanging off the bed and your leg pinned up to get a better angle at your G-spot and to drive himself deeper into you. 

He fucks you in mating press, his feet on the bed as he mounts you and drives himself inside of you like he’s trying hard to breed you. 

He fucks you in full nelson. 

In prone bone, his hands massaging your ass. 

While standing up, you bouncing like a cute little fuck bunny in his arms on his dick. 

From the bottom while you ride him, both from the front and the back, his hands groping your bouncing tits and jiggling ass. 

“Mine,” he growls to you in every position known to bed that he puts you in. “You’re fuckin’ mine, baby bird. Only mine.” 

And in every single position, he makes you and himself cum. He seems to always know how to trigger your orgasm so you cum again and again. He then uses your tight walls to chase his orgasms, cumming inside of you and filling up over and over again. He makes you sweat out your hair and your makeup, making you look like the sexiest Goddess to him as you take his cock like it’s your job. 

By the time he finally finishes, hours have passed and you are spent. Your body aches. You are wet with sweat and cum. Your pussy twitches and is sloppy with his and your cum mixed together, all of it dripping down your thighs and through the crack of your ass. 

Hawks, finally back to his normal self, lies down next to you and snuggles you into his chest. “Thank you for doin’ that,” he sighs, pecking you on the forehead. “You did so, so well for me, honey. I hope a dinner date can make up for that workout.” 

You only mewl tiredly in response, but you wrap your arms around him and snuggle into his chest. He chuckles, the sound pleasant to your ear pressed against his heart. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he sighs.

And then you sleep, satisfied and comfortable finally. 

THE END. 

[foreingersgod]

Can I request a Caitlin Clark x taller Fem Hockey Player Reader who dresses masculine (Reader is extremely clumsy/looks like she has fawn legs when Reader is on normal ground, but when the reader is on the ice she is a force to be reckoned with)

(And the reader has a short and curly ‘burly touching her shoulders’ artist bob hairstyle)

Plot:

-Reader clumsily ran into Caitlin and managed to spill Caitlin’s coffee/hot tea drink on the reader

Reader is embarrassed and just sorta starts rambling out apologizes (I imagine Robin Buckley style rambling) completely ignoring the hot drink that was spilled on her (the readers used to getting injured by her own fawn legs at this point so it doesn’t even faze her)

Reader offers to buy Caitlin a new drink and Caitlin offers to get the taller girl a new shirt

(After that they began dating)

The reader is extremely vocal in her support of Caitlin and the Basketball team when it’s basketball season

So when it’s time for the readers hockey season to begin Caitlin and the team surprise the reader at game in support of reader — but the team is so used to the readers clumsiness that they are shock at how amazing the reader plays on the ice almost like reader is Jack Frost

Maybe at the end Caitlin tells the reader she loves the taller readers clumsiness and finds It endearing how reader is hard core hockey player on the ice and a clumsy goofball on regular ground but no matter either or the reader is always the softness person for her/caitlin

(Sorry This is long I’m kinda sleepy and I can’t find the energy to simplify this 🫤🫠😭😞🥱🥱😪)

— LadyBatSuperKing 🏳️‍🌈🦇🦸‍♂️👑

She’s a force to be reckoned with . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: *refer to request

NOT PROOF READ !!

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

the alarm clock on your bedside table wailed throughout your bedroom. waking up for practice at 5:30 in the morning should be a crime. you were in no mood to lace up your skates and throw on your gear at all today, especially this early. despite your body pleading to stay in bed for 5 more minutes, you forced yourself to get up and get ready for the day.

you fumbled around your bathroom, trying to quickly tame your hair and brush your teeth, knocking down numerous toiletries in the process. you whispered a few curses under your breathe as you knocked over your bottle of hair product, half of its contents emptying into the sink.

eventually, and certainly not without clumsily cluttering half of your apartment, you managed to make your way out of the door and on your way to practice.

you tried to enjoy the early hours of the morning as you meandered down the street, dipping into your favorite coffee shop to wash away the 6:00 am drowsiness. it wasn’t busy like it normally was. only a few business men with their eyes glued to their phones and a completely exhausted college student stood around the shop.

glancing at your phone, you realized that you were going to be late if you didn’t hurry up and order so you made haste to order your drink and leave. grabbing your cup from the barista, you swiftly turned around and headed for the door. before you could even wrap your fingers around the handle, a woman, surprisingly just as tall as you were, pushed the door open. the door pushed right into you, the girl running straight into your chest and spilling your coffee all over the front of your clothes.

“fuck” you cursed, feeling the steaming drink seep through your shirt and onto your skin.

“holy shit, i’m so sorry! i didn’t see you there at all i swear to god!” the girl said, cheeks burning up in embarrassment. she ran over to the counter and returned with several napkins, trying to dab up the coffee that was still dripping onto the floor.

“no no you’re…you’re fine it’s not a biggie” you tried to say, not wanting to make a big deal of it all. you could tell she felt horrible about it and you didn’t want to make her feel any worse, even if she did just destroy one of the only shirts that actually fit your tall figure. “this happens all the time! like don’t even-don’t even worry about it it’s totally cool! i should be sorry, i was totally in your way, completely my fault really!”

“what? no! of course it’s a big deal, i just destroyed your shirt dude” completely unfazed by your rambling. her gaze finally met yours and you could now get a clear look of her face. and damn was she smoking hot. not to mention she was tall enough that she didn’t have to strain her neck to see you like everyone else did. “is there…is there anything i can do? i feel like shit, i shouldn’t have rushed through the door like that without paying attention.”

“you’re really fine, don’t worry about it” you gave her a genuine smile.

“can i at least buy you a new shirt? a new drink?” it came out more like a beg than an offer.

“well,” you shrugged “since this was one of my only shirts that fit, i think a replacement would be very generous, thank you”

“definitely, yea no problem” she stuttered out “um, i’m caitlin, sorry we had to meet in such a shitty situation”

you both laughed “i’m YN, nice to meet you caitlin”

and the rest was history, she bought you a new shirt, you bought you both two cups of coffee, and she offered to walk with you the rest of the way to your practice. before parting ways, you exchanged contacts and made plans to hangout later that night. scorching hot coffee spilling on your shirt was probably the best thing that had happened to you in a long time.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

it had been several months since you met cait at the coffee shop, and now you both were happily dating. you originally thought she wanted to be just friends, aware that your clumsiness and tall figure wasn’t typically something that someone looked for in a woman. but she was very adamant that she loved you for you, finding the beauty and originality in your clumsy nature and being incredibly grateful to have a girlfriend that understands what it’s like to have to duck to fit through some doors. to her, you were funny and original and you both had so much in common, she couldn’t fathom a world in which you stayed friends.

your relationship so far has been absolute bliss. hockey season eventually ended as you started getting to know each other, so there was a lot of night spent watching her practice and even more evenings watching her play. you’ll admit, basketball was never your thing, the rink was the only place you were comfortable, but falling in love with caitlin really made you fall in love with the sport too. you were like her ‘personal cheerleader’ she told you, always shouting her name and repping a #22 jersey. the team became your family at this point and you loved nothing more than supporting them from the stadium seats.

the basketball season eventually came to an end and it was truly a privilege to watch your girlfriend blow everyone away. watching her and her team win, take home titles and awards made you explode with joy. but you were even more excited to share the coming hockey season for the first time with caitlin and the rest of the team.

they all knew you to be the klutz in your relationship, so you were anticipating the looks on their faces when they saw you on the ice.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

“alright, baby, we’ll be watching” caitlin said, rubbing your arm through your jersey and padding. she had met you in the hallway, outside the locker room, to wish you luck one more time before your game started.

“i love so much, thanks for being here” you pulled her in for a kiss.

“i wouldn’t miss it for the world”

she made her way back out to where the team was sitting, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before she left. you could see them laugh and smile with each other and it made you so happy that they were all here to support you.

your coach hollered for you from inside the locker room not long after and you quickly hustled back to lace up. after you were completely geared up, stretched, and given a sturdy team pep talk by coach, you were ready to head out onto the rink.

the announcers called out everyone’s names, including yours, and you could practically feel caitlin’s smile from down there. then before you knew it, the whistle was blown and the game started.

it was going incredibly well. you had your stick poised and ready to to move effortlessly across the ice. every one of your movements was deliberate and precise, you felt as though you were gliding on air. when the puck was hurtled toward you, you reacted with lightning reflexes, intercepting it with a graceful flick of your stick.

this was your moment, you thought, time for everyone to see that you weren’t as clumsy on the ice.

you skated down the rink, charging forward to drive the puck into the opponents goal. you were up against girls almost twice your size. and yet, when everyone was sure that you would slip up when the girls came at you, you slid around them with unwavering speed and focus. you were past them in mere seconds, shocking the crowd. finally, you reached the goal and you took your shot, sending it flying right into the net of the goal.

the crowd erupted with applause, hollering your number and screaming for your team. but you were only focused on finding caitlin and the girls. you spotted her almost immediately, locking eyes, and laughing under your breathe when you saw the looks on all of their faces. their eyes were wide and their mouths hanging open with shock, totally dumbfounded by your change in coordination.

after your astounding goal that put your team ahead of your opponents, the game felt like it was over in seconds. your team was incredibly happy that you had won your first game of the season. you all made your way off the rink and into the locker room again, signing posters and shirts as you walked down the tunnel. everyone was changing into their post-game clothes, congratulating one another, and hugging everyone goodbye until tomorrow’s practice.

you hurriedly pulled your gear off and put on your team hoodie and watching sweats, trying to make it out to see caitlin and girls as fast as you could. sure enough, the second you stepped out those doors, they all stood with posters and flowers, excited to shower you and praise and congratulate you on the game.

“you guys are so sweet, thanks for coming!” you beamed, hugging everyone one by one.

“oh of course!” kate smiled at you.

“wouldn’t miss it,” hannah followed “we wouldn’t want to miss those killer moves! who knew you could move like that you klutz” she nudged your shoulder, playfully.

you all laughed with her, making jokes about how your long legs made you almost invincible out on the rink and how they were all worried you’d slip and fall. but you loved that they all cared about you and were proud of what you accomplished tonight.

after the team was finished catching up with you, they retired for the night and headed their separate ways. of course caitlin stayed behind, ready to walk you to her car and head back to her place to further “celebrate”

“you know i love you, and i think you were fantastic tonight, right?” she said from the drivers side of her car.

“of course, why? is everything ok?”

“yea no, no, everything’s fine” she smiled, glancing between you and the road. “i know me and you and the team…we’ll all joke about your clumsiness sometimes, but…i don’t know i just wanted to make sure you knew that i genuinely love that about you”

“cait” you blushed

“seriously, i love everything about you, from your clumsiness and your rambling, to your precision in your games…i love that you’re just as tall as me, if not more, even if you feel insecure about it. i love that your goofy when it’s just me and you. i’m seriously so in love with everything about you, it’s crazy”

“you’re so sweet to me, caitlin, i love you so much” you reached over the console to hold her hand “more than you know” all she did was smile back at you, rubbing her thumb over yours as you sped down the road to her apartment.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

A/N: again, i’m sorry if there are an inaccuracies with the hockey terminology, but i hope you love it nonetheless! i loved this request, thanks so much anon, enjoy! <3

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for playing music in my shared apartment?

🎵🎧 so I can find it

I live in a shared apartment with two other girls (L and S). It is a student apartment because we are all university students, but it's not provided by the school. Just an apartment complex that markets to students.

I've been with my boyfriend for almost a year, and he comes over on weekends sometimes and we hang out or go to dinner, do homework, and yes, have sex. I have tried to be the ideal roommate. I never use my speakers to play music, only headphones. I have shushed my boyfriend when he laughs super loud during TV shows. Meanwhile, both of my roommates have a habit of playing loud music, burning candles and incense, having half a dozen people over and doing karaoke super loud and late at night with the only warning "having some friends over later."

Last weekend, my roommate L allowed her friend over to work on their small business stuff in the common area (L was not at the apartment, she let the friend in and then went to work). The friend had the TV playing in the living room, and my boyfriend and I keep pretty quiet when we're having sex. I guess we were louder than we thought, because I got a text later from L basically reading me the riot act for making her friend uncomfortable and being inconsiderate. The friend seems nice, I didn't intend to make him uncomfortable. L also said that there have been several times that she or S have heard my boyfriend and I, and that it's "fucking nasty" and I need to be more considerate of the fact that we share a living space. I thought this was pretty hypocritical given that I am almost always super quiet because the walls are thin, and neither of them bothers to keep the noise down.

But I'm not trying to start a fight, so I told her I didn't realize we could be heard and I would make an effort to prevent it in the future.

So. Last night was Valentine's. (Wrote this when the ask box was closed lol) My boyfriend and I went out to dinner, spent some time playing a board game in my room, and then I turned on some music on my speakers, turned it up loud enough that it would have masked normal conversation volume, and we had sex. The music was loud enough that, unless we spoke directly into one another's ears or raised our voices, my boyfriend and I couldn't hear each other.

I got a furious text this morning because I only played music when it was obvious that we were banging, so that made it gross to L, like I was broadcasting what I was doing to the rest of the apartment. I told her that she should do what I did and buy some headphones, and otherwise she could decide whether she preferred to hear my music or to hear me getting laid.

She said I'm disgusting and to grow up.

On the one hand, it WAS obvious that I was playing the music to mask the sounds. I don't like music during sex, but I was trying to be considerate (even if I was pissed). I don't think that I should have to stop having sex in my own home that I pay for, especially when I am already making efforts to keep it pretty quiet. L seems to think that I shouldn't do it at all while someone is home, but S is almost ALWAYS home, and tbh, I don't think it's unreasonable to want to have some intimacy with my boyfriend in my own home, especially on Valentine's Day. But I'll admit, part of me felt pretty spiteful & vindicated when I started the music, so AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[obeymematches]

Hi! How about hc of mc getting pursued by another demon to be with them instead since the demon brothers ignores them and doesn't treat them that well connected to their avatar (like how belphie ignores you 24/7 for sleep) I just wanna see possessive demon brothers please! 🥺

ahhh i remember the guy who i was _just_ talking to on tinder say i needed to have his name painted on my nails... what a funny guy he was

also i'm having this in several parts, it's gonna be that long.

Possessive.

Prolouge;

You supposed you and him had a special chemistry between the two of you. It is hard to describe what it was like but you felt it everytime you looked into his eyes, heard their voice, felt their touch. To your best knowledge the feeling was mutual, he did ask you out on a couple of dates. Until he stopped texting you (if you texted him he didn’t even open your messages) and sometimes you didn’t even see him for a day or two despite living in the same house. You didn’t want to make the situation more awkward than it already was , so from your point of view you made the most realistic decision. Catching another fish from the sea seem like a great idea.

Lucifer: He saw you from a distance as you were having a chat with Lord Diavolo himself. At the time he preferred not to think much of it. Not that the idea of you falling madly in love with the prince didn’t cross his mind; of course he did consider that a possibility. He knows Diavolo the best and he also knows he’d adore you if he got a chance to. The next day you and Diavolo walk by, completely unnoticing him. He didn’t eavesdrop; what would be the point of that? But he, or to be more specific, this side of the RAD building could hear Diavolo joking about and laughing with you. It was most unusual! Especially in public like this, Diavolo would normally keep it lowkey, it would be too risky to let anyone know he enjoys your company.

That’s when The Avatar of Pride had the idea to check the message you sent him ….. almost 3 weeks ago.

Was telling you he was busy be good enough? Would you buy that? Most likely not. It was a shame he let the situation escalate like this, however it’s been decades or maybe even a century since he felt chemistry with anyone the way he did with you. Of course he can’t tell you like it is, otherwise he wouldn’t be the Avatar if Pride but the Avatar of Bluntness.

As much as it hurt his ego to admit it, he did grow fond of you.

„Meet me in my office, 3PM today.”

As you read his message your little human heart almost skipped a beat. It’s going to be awkward assisting him after you started growing feelings for him, feelings which he pretty clearly never reciprocated. You don’t really feel like meeting him, quite honestly.

So you didn’t meet him. He could call you if it was so urgent anyway.

The next day he made sure to run into you when you weren’t in the company of his friend.

„We must talk. Are you free now?”

„I am, for now. I have a class in 20 minutes.”

„I am sorry I did not talk to you about it sooner. Our last date was everything I could ask for. It would be a shame if you were seeing anyone else now. Are you free this afternoon?”

„Oh…um…how should I put this… if you really enjoyed it that much how come you were avoiding me for weeks?”

„I will tell you everything later. I promise.”

• It is up to you to accept or decline him now, however his possessivenes will get the best of him in the following days. He’ll be waiting for you after classes just to talk to you. Sometimes he even gives you a rose. Why is he being so desperate now? Thankfully his pride doesn’t allow him to talk to Diavolo about the situation.

Mammon:

There you are, in his favourite pub, playing pool with two attractive demons plus a duo who appears to be a couple. He knows you can’t play pool very well; it was most definitely not your idea to come here and play. Then who’s? Are you on a date? That cannot be happening.

Yes, he stopped spending time with you but it hasn’t been that long, has it??

He checked your message which you sent about 4 days ago. Surely not much time has passed since!

He ordered himself AND YOU a drink and didn’t hesitate to go up to you.

„Heyy, watcha up to? This ones for ya.”

„Thanks Mammon-„

„So who’re ya here with?”

„I’m with my friend” you look at one of the members of the couple.

„And who’re these losers? Lemme join ya!” he said as he put his arm around your waist.

„Well actually we don’t know them. They were just here, playing.”

The night went by, Mammon did provide you support in the game, although he is not much of a pro himself either. He did his best.

„Sorry I didn’t text ya. I was hustlin at Hell’s Kitchen ya know, givin me sweet money for working nightshift.”

You didn’t really reply as it was still a bit hard to believe him.

„And I also got me a second hustle for the day. I needa get more money! I wanna take ya on some nice ass dates, not a stupid coffe from the machine again.”

• Even if you tell him so he won’t leave you alone for the night. • Which is nice as the unknown demons left already! Now you are for sure for him only!

Part 1.

Tumblr is out there making me fight for my life as I'm trying to edit this post

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(H:SR) Natasha, Bronya, and Seele's S/O getting scared by a movie

No one requested this, I just wanna be held by the pretty Nurse.

Amazingly, Natasha had the next few days off instead of having to bend over backwards at the clinic, or watching over the kids.

She had several reliable people doing so, which meant she could finally relax with her S/O.

(S/O) "After dinner, what do you want to do?"

(Natasha) "Hm...I think for tonight maybe just staying home, if that's okay."

(S/O) "Oh! It'd give us an excuse to watch a movie together!"

Natasha's eyes widened in surprise.

(Natasha) "You found a device that can play movies?"

(S/O) "Yeah, I bought it for cheap, and it came with a movie inside already. I think it was a...horror one?"

Natasha smiled as she thought about the idea, it wasn't grand, but it sounded absolutely perfect.

...Wait, horror? Didn't S/O hate horror?

(S/O) "I know that look you're giving me. I'll be fine, it's probably some super old slasher flick."

(Natasha) "You don't even know what it is?"

(S/O) "How bad could it be?"

...

Natasha's smile couldn't get any bigger as she watched the terrified expression on S/O's face.

Their eyes were glued to the screen and arms holding on tightly to Natasha.

(Natasha) "Dear, are you doing alright?"

(S/O) "J-JUST FINE..."

She chuckled, putting her full weight and relaxing onto S/O, who in contrast felt as stiff as a rock.

(Natasha) "I can cure a lot of things, S/O, but I can't cure getting the life scared out of you."

(S/O) "V-Very funny, Natasha...!"

Natasha enjoyed having S/O hold her so tightly. Admittedly, it made her feel a little sleepy, despite the horrific scenes she was watching on the screen.

(Natasha) "I feel like I could go to bed, how about you?"

(S/O) "Not for a week..."

(Natasha) "I think even the kids have more resilience-"

(S/O) "LOOK! Ghosts freak me out, okay?! And you better not tell them that, I don't want them terrorizing me with that knowledge!"

Natasha giggled before rubbing a hand on their back, attempting to calm them down.

(Natasha) "Full patient confidentiality with me, dear."

During the next few nights, she felt like an oversized plush with how tightly S/O hugged her.

Bronya was extremely busy in her duties, so much so that she felt terrible about leaving S/O alone for so many days.

When they approached her for an offer to spend the night together, she couldn't refuse.

Not that she wanted to, of course.

(Bronya) "What did you have in mind?"

S/O reached into their pocket and pulled out a small disc.

(S/O) "I was handed this movie by Seele, she said we should watch it together for a date."

(Bronya) "By Seele? Hm, what is it?"

(S/O) "...Eh? A Horror movie?!"

Bronya recoiled as well before putting some thought into it.

(Bronya) "I have never gotten to watch a movie for fun, much less a horror film...Let's do it!"

S/O slightly hesitated, but seeing the gleam in her eye, they couldn't refuse.

Not that they wanted to, of course.

...

As much as some scenes freaked her the hell out, she was actually having a lot of fun!

Bronya didn't have many opportunities to enjoy her time doing something so normal, so this was a new experience for her.

Especially getting to share it with the one she loved, it couldn't get much better than this.

...Well, maybe if it weren't for the fact S/O was practically in her lap, shivering as they held her tightly.

(Bronya) "If the movie is too much, S/O, we can always just-"

(S/O) "N-NO! I'll be fine, you're enjoying it, so I am too!"

Bronya raised an eyebrow, watching them tremble.

(Bronya) Obviously, that's a lie.

But at the same time, she was flattered. They wanted to make sure that she was enjoying herself, despite the fact she meant this time spent together to be an apology to S/O.

She smiled, oblivious to the blood curdling scream emerging from the screen that made S/O yelp.

Bronya quietly laughed to herself before wrapping her arms around S/O, watching the screen with a smile.

Before getting jumpscared in sync with S/O, both of them latching onto each other.

Seele threw her shoes off in her apartment, sitting down on the couch with her S/O.

(Seele) "Ugh, finally. I can rest..."

(S/O) "Busy as always?"

(Seele) "Trouble's always brewing, but...things have been getting a bit easier now."

She put her head on their lap, mindlessly playing with their hair as her arm lifted to touch their face.

(Seele) "Got some time off for a little while. Wanna do anything?"

(S/O) "Hm...Oh, isn't there a movie you said you wanted to watch?"

It took a moment before Seele remembered what they were talking about, shooting upright.

(Seele) "Right! Yeah, Caelus gave me a horror movie that he said a friend gave him. Plug in that little box below the TV, that plays the movie."

She quickly went to grab a snack from the pantry before hopping onto the couch with S/O, noting the worried look on their face.

Seele knew they didn't like that genre, but maybe it'd be fine because she was here?

...

S/O was lifelessly still, fitting given the movie.

Seele lazily munched on some chips as she watched the screen, unphased by the gruesome sights.

(Seele) "Hm. This plot's kinda dumb. What do you thi-"

Seele noticed S/O was shaking, their attention glued onto the screen, which made a smirk grow across her lips.

(Seele) "...Boo!"

(S/O) "GAH!"

She laughed at how far S/O had jumped on the couch.

(Seele) "Jeez, didn't realize this flick would freak you out so bad."

(S/O) "You absolutely did!"

Seele didn't deny that, and instead just cuddled closer to S/O.

(Seele) "Don't worry, I'll protect you from whatever big bad is out to getcha."

(S/O) "Y-You better!"

Seele let one hand cusp their cheek, which she felt them relax into, seemingly calming them down.

It made her heart skip a beat that she could be such a calming presence for someone, despite how she normally was.

And then a loud noise startled S/O, making them almost drop Seele, which she was slightly annoyed but highly amused by.

She has to resist the urge to scare the hell out of them when they're going to sleep since S/O had Seele in a near death grip.

[greycaelum]

Hi! I love how you capture Gojo's character in your series. I was wondering if you could write a scenario where the high and mighty Gojo Satoru felt insecure and undeserving of reader at any point in their relationship through the Kaleidoscope Series? I wanna see Toru be sad and then comforted mehehe. Hope this ask finds you well!

Kaleidoscope Series—Clouds and Mochi Chapters { Lose }

—Gojo Satoru X Wife Reader

𑁍 Synopsis: Y/n left for a few days and Satoru has to handle the kids.

𑁍 Genre: family theme, fluff, angst to comfort

𑁍 CW/TW: (2.8k)— arguments, insecurities, regrets, Satoru doing his job (overboard manner), not proofread

𑁍 Grey ✒️☕: Hi sweetheart thank you for the wonderful ask, I hope I managed to make it well this time

Being married to Gojo Satoru has meant that you will have more work than you anticipated. Contrary to the eyes of the mass that Gojo Satoru's existence is the entire Gojo Clan itself there's so much that runs behind what people see.

In the absence of Gojo Satoru, his wife, The Madame of the Gojo Clan, Gojo Y/n controls everything.

"I have to leave for a business trip in Kyushu 'Toru. Can you handle the kids for three days?"

You asked after tucking Saika into bed.

Satoru shot up from the bed, removed his glasses, and look at you with a confused face.

"What do you mean? You're pregnant Honey. It's not safe for you or our babies to travel long distances." Satoru walked over to you and held your hands to his lips, pressing kisses to your knuckles. "I cannot let you go with your delicate situation Baby."

"I'm okay Satoru, besides I consulted my ob-gyne and she said it's alright." You chuckled at the sudden protectiveness, not that Satoru isn't normally protective of you already.

Satoru ran his hand over his hair. Good grace. He's not letting you outside of this house or even letting you get in that piece of flying metal, that who knows might fall just because life is a bitch.

"No. You're not going anywhere, Honey." Satoru was sentenced with finality. The frown on your brows slowly curled and retrieved your hand from his lips.

His heart fell at your withdrawal as you looked at him and sighed.

"Love, this is my job. Alright? This is my duty as your wife, my duty to the Gojo Clan because I'm the Madame. I won't go if I think I'm unfit to." You tried to be understanding yet firm as you explain this logic to him.

Years of marriage certainly taught you better than to enter an argument head straight. Instead, you calmly laid out your facts.

"No means no. Honey, you can ditch all your work if you want to. You're with our child. To be exact you don't even have to work with your state." Satoru put his hands on his waist, assuming an authoritative stance.

The room dropped several degrees as Y/n raise her brows and narrowed her eyes at the imposing tone of his words.

"I understand you're concerned—"

"Oh, believe me, Honey, I'm beyond concerned I'm fervid." Satoru cut you off with a frown.

"But you're not changing my decision Satoru." The softness of the way you call his name was gone. It was cemented with stubbornness. "I'm pregnant, not invalid."

You could be such an angel at times but that stubbornness of yours... Satoru blew out a sigh.

"I'm not saying you're invalid. I'm looking out for you and our children. What if something happens? The stress of work, or just simply going out there, away from what's supposed safe for you and the children. Can't you send someone else?" Satoru's voice was an octave higher, trying so hard to find the right words without sounding rude.

"Satoru, I know you are concerned, but again, I won't put myself or our child at risk if I'm unsure that I can do this safely. I am pregnant, but that doesn't mean I can forego my duties. That's not how this works. I have my responsibilities, and those responsibilities I'm doing not just for myself, but for this family as well." Your voice constricted, not wanting to shout or even raise your voice at him, marking the end of the discussion as you turn your back to pack your luggage leaving Satoru standing where he was.

The next day, sure enough, the car that will send you to the airport arrived. Kouki and Saika knew something was up with the perfunctory kiss you gave to their father, and Satoru's sad eyes as he loaded your luggage to the bag. The kids watched from the doorstep, a worried look on Saika's face while Kouki had his usual emotionless expression on.

"Call me if anything ever happens no matter how minuscule it is." Satoru pulled you into his arms before you could enter the car. Damn, you feel so soft his heart is being pricked to let you go. He hates disagreeing with you. It throws him off.

"I will be back sooner than you expected, I promise." You nod, cupping his cheeks noticing he's pale. Price of a sleepless night...

Satoru watch the car drive off until it was out of sight. The sinking feeling like his feet is being shackled to the ground slowly started creeping in. An unpleasant feeling swirled inside his gut.

Kouki watched his sister bite her lip. Anxious with the sudden cloudy mood between their parents. She is after all a four years old girl who is learning how to sense her surroundings.

"Mama and Papa just had a fuss, but they're going to be fine." Kouki's blank face soften and pat his little sister's head. "They love each other after all."

What's so special about that trip? Satoru pondered as he do his work, taking in more jobs than he usually does. Using it as a distraction but ultimately ends up pondering over you while he fights off curses.

He remembers your words. Somehow he understands what lies beneath those lines. The cold truth behind it, even if you won't say it out loud.

 This is my duty as your wife, my duty to the Gojo Clan because I'm the Madame.

It's the price of marrying him. The burden of being his wife.

Satoru grits his teeth.

"G-Gojo-san?" Ijichi flinched at the vivid way the poor level 3 curse was exterminated. The force was more than necessary. It was like bringing out a bazooka for a mosquito. Raw and brutal as that.

He thought he was already aware having been married to you for almost 10 years. But he is still so witless.

The hole in his heart couldn't be filled. It's like something inside him was gnawing him alive. Like there's sand inside his gut. Unsettling the cold sweat in his spine. Do you feel this way whenever he heads out to battle every time?

It's a dreadful sensation.

He couldn't imagine this happening to you. Especially since he heads out to battle almost every day.

Because this is his duty, as the strongest, as Gojo Satoru...

"Fuck!"

He never wanted you to face any difficulties that will ever endanger you. That's why he built a home away from the Gojo Estate. He doesn't want you to be subjected in the eyes of his clan. Not the hostility, and not the burden... He never wanted you to carry any of it.

But it seems like every time, he fails.

"Do you regret me?" 

You once asked him, lying on the hospital bed after being attacked by Tachibana's daughter, barely escaping the preemptive danger.

Since then and until now, his answer is the same.

"No, I never. I regret putting you in this kind of situation."

It's his biggest regret. To put you in such peril because he loves you. He loves you so much that he pulled you into his rotten world. He wants to protect you, but then he cannot stop you from doing what you want, what you could to grow. Because deep down the thing he never wishes to see is your eyes filled with hatred looking towards him. 

It would break the cracked heart you pieced together. He could never leash you, nor cage you no matter how much he loves you.

 "There is no curse more twisted than love." He said that to Yuta because he knows it more than anyone... Probably because his love is as twisted as it could be just to have you. 

Ringggg

His phone vibrated and he answers it without saying 'hello'. His mind is too clouded to form the right words without using the usual cheery masks he uses in public. 

"..." The other line doesn't answer as well.

There was only their breathing. A steady one and the other one breathed quietly to listen as closely as possible. They didn't speak for a good moment, simply staying in that silence, listening. Satoru hid his lips in the high neck of his uniform.

"Satoru?" You finally spoke.

"...Mnn?" He swallowed a huge lump in his throat. "You called Honey, did something happen?"

"..." He could see you shaking your head on the other line even if he cannot see you. "I just wanted to hear you, that's all."

He faintly chuckled. "Are you going to sleep?"

"Hmmm." You answered. "The business deal is going smoothly. They'll sponsor the orphaned children's education in exchange for them as working students for the company."

"You're... working so hard." Satoru bit the walls of his mouth. "My wife is so hardworking." Did the praise have to be this bittersweet to his tongue?

"You should reward me when I come home. Lately, I've been craving some orange juice and baklava."

"Mnnn, I will."

Silence ensued over the two of them again... Soon your breathing slowed down. Satoru sensing you're probably asleep, just opened his phone until your call dropped, most probably because of low battery.

You have always loved kids. Probably that is why Kouki and Saika turned out to be such angels despite him being a menace. You're such a good wife and caring mother it puts him to shame always being away. So what right did he even have to stop you from doing your duties when he's the one who's often away to do his own?

Satoru closed the book, and look at his daughter who is fast asleep by his side. She has white hair and blue eyes from him but she looks just like you. He can already see the riot she will make when she grows older.

The door opened with Kouki holding his cinnamoroll plushie.

"Hey Buddy, can't sleep?"

The little guy walks over and climbs into the bed on Satoru's side.

"Are you and Mama upset, Papa?" Kouki settled quietly and held his plushie.

Satoru carefully lifted the blanket to Kouki's chest while making sure Saika doesn't wake up.

"Kind of, but we're gonna be okay. Coz I love Mama so much." Satoru kissed Kouki's forehead, reassuring his son. 

"Mnn, I know. I love Mama too." Kouki nodded and blinked at his Papa. "Papa?"

"Mnn?" Satoru removed the blindfold from his eyes and replaced it with his sunglasses.

"I love you too." Kouki yawned and closed his eyes.

Satoru let out a deep breath and chuckled. Biting his lips as he leaned down to kiss his son one more time.

"I love you most Kikufuku."

The business deals went smoother than you expected, the three-day trip you thought became a two-day trip and before you knew it, you are on board the plane back to Tokyo, leaving your assistant to clean up behind as you did your best to come back early and surprise your family.

You won't say quarrels with Satoru are unusual. It's normal in marriage to have it. You have some quarrels with him, but most of those are solved within that day and the two of you talk about it as civilized as possible. It's a very rare thing for the two of you to shout or snarl at each other. It was only two or three times in the duration of your marriage that the argument reached the point of screaming.

With Satoru's line of work, the two of you decided to always work on the problem as soon as possible so no one walks out the door, angry. The one you had recently is one of those civilized quarrels but deep down you knew Satoru was still against it even the moment he hugged you in the car, he just let you go against his will... Because that's the person he is. He will never hold you back against your will.

That business deal was very important for you, perhaps being a mother makes you really soft and empathetic that you cannot turn your eyes away from those children that have lost their parents. The least you could do for them is make sure that their future will be taken care of.

You opened the door and everyone was already out of the house. The kids are in school and Satoru is at work. The house is spotless...

"Y/n?!" The door burst open and Satoru stood there with his blindfold falling down his neck, his breathing id ragged, probably from the hurry. His strides were quick as he cross the hallway and reach to pull you in his arms.

He smells so good... Like baby soap and powder... You inhaled his scent and returned the hug, it's not so tight because he was afraid to squish the baby bump but it was still warm...

"I was supposed to surprise you, but you surprised me first 'Toru." You chuckled and smiled.

Satoru was silent as you brush the underside of his eyes and stare at him with those eyes of yours that were filled with love. He could never get tired of the way your fingers caress him like he's the most fragile thing in the world. It feels so soft, so precious, so warm.

"Are you hungry? I'll cook." There was something stuck in his throat that was so hard to swallow.

"I'll take a shower first." You move and went upstairs leaving him in the kitchen. He was probably alerted by the guards that you're back that's why he looked as if he ran. When you came down, the sliding door to the backyard garden was open. Satoru was also there and so are your food.

The garden is blooming full of hydrangeas with butterflies fluttering around and the faint scent of the drizzle this morning wafted the air. It's a soft scene with the silence between you and your husband. You silently ate while Satoru simply stared at you, sometimes offering you more food which you accepted, not shying away when you're eating for three persons now.

"You know—"

"I'm sorry—"

You both spoke at the same time making you laugh a little and gestured for him to go first.

Satoru sighed, rubbing the back of his head, and awkwardly smirked.

"You know, I realized I was stupid for asking you not to go... For almost stopping you to do your duties. I didn't realize how unfair I was when I'm often away doing my obligations too. I was just really scared... for you, for our children that I didn't think how one-sided it was on your part for me to stop you from going when you've always been there to support me whenever I go." Satoru looked at you and his eyes finally softened. "I guess, the next time I will just tag along with you wherever you go. I won't stop you, and I'll make sure you're extra, extra safe with me by your side, won't you like that Baby?" His teasing tone was back.

But before he could see your reaction he was enveloped in a hug.

"I'm sorry... I know I can get really stubborn. And that will be the last trip for now." You pulled back and smiled. "So, this one..." You touched his heart and look at his eyes. "...will never worry that you'll lose me or our children."

You know how much he has already lost, and you will never be one of those.

Satoru pulled you onto his lap, making you sit sideways as he tuck his nose against your neck, his hand protectively splayed over your growing bump like a snug protection. You hugged him back, peppering kisses on his temples, whispering assurance as you run your fingers through his hair feeling him slightly whine at the tenderness you are showering him.

"You will never lose me Satoru, not me nor our children. So you have to always come back home because we are waiting for you."

Satoru nodded, nuzzling into your kisses.

Many of his elders said that he needs an obedient and submissive wife. But he knew that while you've always been nice, you still have that stubbornness rooted inside you, and yet... You may never be as obedient as per standard but he knew your understanding made you stand out the most. The heart to love him and to compromise was something you have given home boundlessly. You loved him enough to understand and compromise. He never needed a submissive wife. He needed an understanding spouse. Someone who understands it's hard to be with him and yet still stayed. And that was you, with the stubbornness that made him love you more.

"I won't say that is the last trip you'll take." Satoru grinned making you frown and look at him. "It's going to be autumn soon, and you know what that means?" Satoru already made arrangements for this.

Then it clicked on you. Ah... yes, Kouki and Saika have been looking forward to this every year. The annual vacation to their favorite place.

"How does a babymoon in Switzerland sound?" Satoru kissed your lips and grinned.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld

[dyns33]

A Silly Dream

Another idiots in love with Morpheus and female reader.

"… What did you just say ?"

Sometimes Y/N forgot that Dream of the Endless wasn't human, and therefore didn't think like a human. He had great difficulty communicating and understanding that there were things he shouldn't say or do if he didn't want to hurt people.

The problem was that even when she remembered that, she also remembered that he was an old being, so normally experienced and wise, the prince of stories and words, who yet kept behaving like a selfish, spoiled child who never learned from his mistakes.

"I just said I couldn't stay long for our meeting."

"No, after that. And, what 'meeting' ? We didn't have an meeting, it was you who came to my place."

"As with Hob Gabling every hundred years, I meet with you once a year, for you to give me your impression of the new dreams and nightmares, and in exchange I let you read an unfinished book from my library. But I am very busy and it will be difficult for me to stay more than an hour today."

He was really telling her that for all this time, more than a hundred years, their relationship was not at all friendly, but hardly professional, a simple obligation, which annoyed him but that he had the kindness to fill in each time ? Oh, Y/N felt really honored at that moment.

"… You're a jerk."

"I beg your pardon ?" wondered Morpheus, visibly very offended.

"I said you're a jerk. It's because of the kiss, right ? It's your way of telling me that I shouldn't have, and that I'm very lucky that you keep coming to see me instead of punishing me ?"

"You know I have to come see you."

"You're a real jerk. Go away, since you're so busy."

His face still impassive, Morpheus stared at her for a long time, as if he still didn't know what he should do, before standing up without saying anything and leaving.

The kiss had been stupid, Y/N agreed to admit it.

It had happened two years ago now, when she had just finished her review of the last nightmare he had created, and Dream was trying to explain to her why she was wrong in her reasoning.

It could have happened much sooner, because her heart had been beating for him and only for him for decades already, but before that day, she had always known how to keep her feelings buried deep inside her.

But this time, without her being able to explain why, while she admired his eyes deep as the ocean, his skin pale as the moon, listening to his lulling voice, Y/N had not thought, and she had kissed him.

Dream of the endless went silent. He had looked at her as if she had just stabbed him, and of course he had left without listening to her excuses, not finishing his sentence, but leaving her a book, because he had only one word.

She had strange dreams after that, where she was in a labyrinth, then in a castle, then in corridors, and always she had the feeling that she was looking for something without really knowing what.

Sometimes she saw Dream, sometimes a cat, and she began to follow him, never being able to catch up with him.

The following year he came back, they didn't talk about what happened, and everything seemed to be back to normal.

It hurt to think that all of this was actually just an obligation for him. Y/N had met Hob several times. She knew that Morpheus was really bad with people, since it had taken him more than half a millennium to admit he had a friend, but she had also heard of his lovers, and so she knew that he was not incapable of feelings.

There had been the secret hope then that he liked her, at least a little. It was over now.

The next year, when he showed up on her doorstep with a book, Y/N wondered if he was more mean than stupid, or the other way around.

"I thought I told you to leave. I know you're terribly busy."

"The competition is indeed quite exhausting, but everyone else has given up for the day."

"Oh, you have a moment for me in your schedule ? Too kind. No, wait, we have a meeting, I forgot. Well, I'm busy. Goodbye."

"You do not want…"

"Bye." she repeated, closing the door in his face without taking the book.

It was the first time she hadn't taken the book. If he wanted to, Dream could have appeared in her apartment, or in her dreams, to scold her and throw the book at her, but he didn't.

Y/N didn't know if she was happy or disappointed.

Meanwhile, the bizarre dreams continued.

This time, she was in the gardens of his castle, in the Dreaming. She knew it, because she had already been there. It was because of this stuff that she felt she was more than an obligation.

There were a lot of people in the gardens, some looking human, some not, and they were all looking for something.

Tired, Y/N decided that this time she didn't feel like running, and she sat down on a bench. A wing sound told her that a little spy had decided to join her.

"They all look ridiculous, don't you think ?"

"I don't know who they are or what they do, but I guess."

"They participate in the competition, of course." Matthew said with a desperate tone. "It's been so long now, what's it been, four years ? Five ? I don't know. Some like you have a point, others are starting to despair a bit. I wish they all despair and stop. The boss is tired."

"… What do you mean by 'I have a point' ?"

"The rules are simple, one kiss, one point. Two kisses, two points. Three kisses, the hand of the Master of dreams. None of them asked for his consent, wicked ones. Neither do you, I'm a bit disappointed, young lady. You're the least bad, but still. He was hurt, that was not good manners."

"Matthew… Matthew, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

The raven looked at her like she was stupid. Then he realized she must be really stupid.

"No… That can't be true ! You two are really the same. Two idiots, you deserve each other ! Idiots ! He was hurt, but happy ! He was waiting for the other kisses during your little dates in the Waking !"

"You're talking about our more or less professional and obligatory meetings that he doesn't have time to go to ?"

"What ? What do you mean by… He said something stupid, right ? Of course he said something stupid. You do stupid things, he says stupid things, when you could just kiss. God damn it ! He was grumpy last year, and sad this year, because he thinks you don't want to compete anymore. But you don't know there's a competition ! And you don't want to see him anymore, not because you don't like him, but because you think he doesn't like you ! Boss ! Boss, you really kill me sometimes !"

Y/N woke up not sure if she had dreamed or not. Of course, she had dreamed, and all dreams were real, but she didn't know if she had talked to Matthew, or if she had dreamed that she was talking to Matthew, which was not the same thing.

In one case, she could continue to hope stupidly. In the other, she was just plain stupid.

She got her answer when she came home from work one evening and found Morpheus on her couch. He looked smaller and more fragile than usual. Tired, as his raven said.

"I thought we already had our meeting this year." she said taking out her jacket, not knowing what she should do, or what he was going to do.

"We didn't. You were busy."

"Ah, yes. That's right. Tea ?"

"No, thank you."

Usually things were very simple. They greeted each other, talked quickly about the past year, then Y/N talked about her dreams and nightmares, saying why she liked them or not.

This time, they said nothing, sitting next to each other. Of course, he had brought a book, placed between them. She didn't know if she should talk about those weird dreams.

It was a new surprise when he spoke first.

"You're near my sister's realm lately."

"Which one ?"

"Despair."

"Oh. How is she ?"

"What do you think ?"

"I don't know, you are not really dreamy yourself. I mean, you are, just when you are not talking. The talking you is a real nightmare. But I meant, how is she, as in is she alright ?"

"I must say that I don't know."

"You should call her to ask, she's your sister. Except if she's a bad sister. I guess it's not my business. How are you ?"

"You never kissed me again. Why ?"

He was back, the child with his big deep eyes, his innocent look and his dangerous words. How could he say such important things without the slightest hesitation ?

Y/N found the courage to meet his gaze after taking a deep breath.

"I don't know. Maybe because you have to come see me, and you clearly didn't like the first time I kissed you."

"I appreciated that. I would have fully appreciated it under other circumstances, but at that moment I thought you were acting like the others, in order to win the competition."

Matthew wasn't wrong, they were both a bit stupid, and mostly unlucky. All of this was mainly a problem of bad timing, and communication. If Y/N had acted sooner, and if Morpheus had known how to talk, there would never have been any problems.

"Following your entry into the competition, I am obliged to join you, in order to give you a chance to steal two more kisses from me, under the same conditions as the first. All the others who succeeded having it done in the Dreaming, I do not have to meet them elsewhere."

"… So you've been obliged for two years. But before too, since you impose one meeting per year."

"I told you, I'm very busy. I wanted to make sure I can see you at least once, as much as possible, so it seemed safer to set a specific date."

Damn, he was a jerk. A lovely jerk, a sweet idiot, a pleasant fool.

"And so… You want to kiss me ?"

"I'm not allowed to give kisses, you have to take them. It's the rule."

"I don't like that rule. I didn't kiss you for that, I should have asked your permission, and I'm not going to do it again, that's wrong."

"So you don't want to kiss me." he whispered, looking disappointed.

"I don't wish to force you. I won't steal another kiss."

"You could ask me."

"And would that change anything ?"

"I can't give kisses, but I can give you permission."

During their little conversation, Matthew had been very clear, clear as he always was and much more than his boss who gave him a headache. Silently, for three years, Morpheus had been patiently waiting for Y/N to kiss him again, silently giving her his consent.

He had been too proud or too stupid to understand that he had to verbalize such things.

"Morpheus, I love you very much and I don't care about this competition, can I kiss you ?"

"You can." he sighed with relief and what looked like a smile.

This kiss was much nicer than the first. Probably because it had been desired for more than two years now. Y/N would have liked it to last forever.

"And… For the third one ? Do I have to wait until next year ?" she asked nervously, keeping her hands on his shoulders, thinking he would leave as soon as she let go.

"You can take as many kisses as you want, my love. You can take everything you want."

"Dream… My Dream…"

It was difficult to know what happened in the Dreaming at this moment. No doubt that Lucienne and Matthew announced to the other participants that they could leave because they had lost. Then the wedding planning began.

Y/N hadn't thought about marriage. She had only thought about Morpheus, silly Morpheus, and all the love she had for him. They would need to discuss all of this. But right now, she was too busy kissing him again and again, and him not devouring her with his endless passion.

"I'm glad it's you." he whispered against her lips. "I have to go now. We'll see each other tonight, I'll wait for you."

Being a man of his word, he left a book on the sofa before disappearing. A love story with a happy ending, maybe because he knew they would be fine, or just because he hoped they would.

Y/N read it before going to sleep to join her future kingdom, and her stupid prince of dreams.

[borderlinereminders]

I just finished helping with my best friend’s wedding. I spent two different days running around Vancouver area (which is a large city and something I find draining) in a rush. It was exhausting. It was emotional. It was overwhelming at times.

And that’s okay.

My personal share here is that sometimes, it’s normal to inconvenience ourselves and sacrifice for our relationships. I see a lot of posts worded in black and white ways telling us not to do things like that and it’s not that simple.

I faced my anxiety and gave a speech at her wedding because it was important to her. I was shaken even afterwards and it took me time to calm down.

I pushed myself to help her as much as I could even though I was running out of energy. I used spoons and borrowed from other areas of my life to temporarily help her.

I was exhausted interacting with a bunch of new people just to be present at her wedding for several hours and to get help in the preparations.

In each of these situations, I made the choice myself. I wasn’t pressured. It was very safe to say “no” to her. She would have been understanding and not at all upset with me. But I still made the choice to do these things. And it was all worth it. It was all worth it because I love her. And I am so beyond happy I pushed myself. I’m so happy I did it. And I’m so happy that she trusted me to help her. I’m at home now thinking about how happy I am for everything and how it turned out and no part of me regrets any of it.

We’re so often told not to sacrifice for others and that can be true in a lot of cases. But it is normal to give in relationships. It becomes a problem when it’s one-sided or we don’t respect our own boundaries.

She has sacrificed for me, too.

She drove me during a busy traffic time yesterday when she hates that because I was anxious and it helped me for her to bring me where I needed to go.

She’s taken a ferry and time off work to come see me and help me when I needed a ride from a minor surgery because she didn’t want me to have to rely on someone whose presence stressed me out and came with strings attached. (I never even asked her to do this one - I’d told her I had a ride but she knew the emotional consequences for me even though I hadn’t brought it up.)

She’s taken the time to do something for me even though her plate is full and she is overwhelmed because she knew I was so anxious about the thing that needed done.

And even if it hasn’t been easy sometimes, she has weighed the importance and decided that it meant more to her to help me and it was a decision that was hers to make. She made the choice to inconvenience herself. And I’ve done the same.

It is so normal to inconvenience yourself for your loved ones at times. But I also hope this serves as a reminder that it is okay that YOU inconvenience your loved ones sometimes. It’s their decision and if they want to help, then that’s okay and their choice.

Because as someone who was inconvenienced at several times during this week, I made the decision to do it and I am so happy I did. It was worth it to me. She was worth every bit of it and I’d do it all over again and more.