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bellaxgiornata · 9 months

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The Devil at Your Window |1: Snowed In|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 8k

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

Series summary: In the middle of a New York City blizzard, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen accidentally lands himself on your fire escape–quite literally. When he accepts your invitation to warm up inside your apartment, you're surprised at how well the conversation flows all night with the curious and attractive masked vigilante. He's intriguing, though what you find even more intriguing is his unexpected returns to your window after that night–and his flirting. But when it seems like you're not the only one beginning to develop real feelings, he pulls back and you're left wondering two things: Why did he disappear and who really is the mysterious Devil that you've inevitably fallen for?

a/n: Just a short collection of one shots that I'll update whenever the ideas strike. It'll be told in a style like Falling for the Devil but it won't get nearly as long (unless y'all end up loving it, too). I just couldn't deny giving us all the fantasy of black suit Matt reappearing at your apartment window and all the flirting, sexual tension, feelings, and naughty things that might ensue... The installment list for this little series can be found here and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer

Picking up the steaming mug of tea you’d just finished making from off the kitchen counter, you cradled your other hand around the warmth of the ceramic and drew it towards your chest as you turned and headed back towards your living room. The small spot of heat against the front of your sweatshirt caused a shiver to run down your spine as your sock-clad feet padded along the cold hardwood floor and back towards your couch.

It was freezing inside your apartment tonight and the blustering snow storm raging outside in Hell’s Kitchen wasn't helping. Thankfully your office had already announced its closure for tomorrow before you'd finished work earlier this evening. The snow had already started to dump from the sky before you’d even left the office, falling heavy and wild as it accumulated in a cover of white that blanketed everything in the city. It would have been beautiful if you hadn’t needed to walk home afterwards in the frigid mess–especially with the way the large clumps of snowflakes pelted and battered you in the face over and over, the cold stinging at your skin.

The city was expected to get a whopping eighteen inches of snowfall minimum over the next twenty-four hours, so you were grateful that your boss wanted as little to do with making it into work tomorrow as you did, especially because you couldn’t afford to do anything but walk to the office. The last thing you wanted to do was trudge through all of that mess and slip on a patch of ice, inevitably falling in a massive pile of snow and leaving you stuck in damp dress clothes all day.

No, you'd rather stay dry and cozy at home enjoying a lazy day off of work.

You were just hoping the power in your apartment building remained intact throughout the fury of the winter storm. You didn’t want to think about losing the heat in your building in the middle of all of this. Another shiver ran through you as you pushed the thought away–hopefully not something you’d need to worry about tonight.

But since you didn’t have work first thing in the morning, you had every intention of enjoying your night. You’d immediately come home and thrown off your dress clothes before settling on something comfortable–soft sweatpants and a cozy sweatshirt sans bra underneath. Then you’d made dinner and cleaned it up fast before claiming your ‘spot’ for the evening on your couch. Which consisted of both of your blankets and the television remote while you binged a guilty pleasure show that you hadn’t had time to catch up on for the past few weeks. Tonight you were intending to stay up a bit late, cozy up beneath your blankets, drink some hot tea, and lose yourself in the plot and romance of the show before eventually dragging your tired ass to bed in the hopes of sleeping in tomorrow to make up for staying up late.

Eyes focused on the paused television screen as you moved, you rounded the side of your couch while drawing your steaming mug up to your lips. You sipped at the warm liquid, reveling in it for a moment before you swallowed it down. You could feel it heat you from the inside out as a pleasant sensation washed over you. Your eyes closed briefly for a moment–it was the first time you’d actually felt warm today.

Opening your eyes, you continued towards the couch and began to lower yourself down onto the cushions while trying not to spill any of your tea from the mug. Just as you were about to sit back down on the couch and cocoon yourself in both of your blankets, ready to settle in for more of your show, something outside the window to your right caught your attention. Your head spun in the direction just as a flash of black dashed past the window and a loud bang reverberated through your apartment.

A frightened yelp slipped out of you at the sound and you clutched your mug tight to your chest, your heart thudding heavily in terror. Whatever had just literally dropped onto your fire escape had been large, especially with the sound of that impact. Sucking in a breath, you held it as you stared transfixed at the window, almost ridiculously terrified it would be some sort of wild animal–like a bear or a wolf–on your fire escape.

Though, more realistically considering you were in New York City, you knew it was probably a burglar. Who else would be traversing fire escapes late at night? Especially dressed in all dark clothes? Except…that also seemed a little ridiculous, too. There was a literal blizzard happening outside, meaning everyone would be home. In their apartments. Making it impossible for a burglar to break into anyone’s place unseen. Plus, it was insane outside, what criminal would risk dealing with that right now?

So what the hell had just fallen onto your fire escape?

Another thought struck you soon after and your lips parted in shock at the idea as you blew out the breath you’d been holding. With trembling hands, you very slowly reached out, carefully placing your mug of tea onto the coffee table before you without taking your eyes off of your window. Gradually, almost nervously, you rose to your feet before taking hesitant step after hesitant step forward. Another sharp, surprised gasp flew out of you when you saw the dark figure sit upright on your fire escape, bent in half as if they were in pain. Which made sense, considering the fall they’d just taken.

But your body froze up instantly at the sight of the man dressed in all black bent in half and dusted in white patches of snow. He wasn’t a burglar at all. With the black cloth tied over his head and the form fitting shirt he was wearing, there was absolutely no mistaking who he was. You'd certainly seen enough images of him plastered across the media.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had just fallen onto your fire escape.

Eyes widening in shock at the infamous vigilante attempting to pull himself up to his feet, one of his gloved hands holding onto the metal railing of your fire escape, you were suddenly overcome with the urge to check on him. To make sure he wasn’t seriously injured from that fall.

Without thinking your actions through, you crossed the last few steps to the window and unlatched the locks before pushing it up. The masked figure immediately spun towards you at the sound as a bitter gust of wind burst its way into your apartment, chilling you instantly while those thick snowflakes once again assailed your face. For a moment you locked eyes with him–or at least, it seemed like you did despite the fabric covering half of his face–as your mouth hung open. You suddenly found yourself at a loss of what to say in the moment. And considering the way his lips thinned out along his face and the way he remained silent, he clearly wasn’t going to strike up a conversation with you, either.

Eyes darting down, you saw he had one gloved hand clutching at his right side as if it hurt him. His shoulders were hunched in on himself as his back faced the violent winds blowing snow relentlessly. Seeing him in person for the first time ever–something you’d never expected in your life considering how elusive the media made him out to be–you realized just how thin and unprotective his clothes really were. Especially tonight considering the cold weather. He had to be freezing.

An icy wind whistled loudly, another flurry of heavy snowflakes pelting you right in the face and breaking you from your thoughts. Blinking the snow from your lashes, you finally found your voice.

“Are you alright?” you asked hesitantly, unsure how one should approach the masked man. “I just–just saw you fall. It looked like it hurt.”

He gave a curt shake of his head, wincing before he turned more towards the railing. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he replied.

Something warm flooded your veins at the gravelly tone of his voice. It suited him somehow, even if it sounded fake. Like he was pitching his voice lower to sound like someone else in order to hide his identity. Not that you'd probably have recognized him anyway.

With his back partially to you now, especially this close when there was barely a few feet of space between the pair of you, you could see just how incredibly muscular this man was. His black shirt clung to him like a second skin, the toned abdominal muscles on his upper body clearly visible even from just his profile. Even the pectoral muscles of his chest were well defined and visible beneath the sheen of black. His arms were thick–far too big for just one of your hands to wrap around. And as your gaze lingered lower, you fought back the thoughts that entered your mind at the sight of how large his thighs were in those tight pants–and how pleasant a profile his ass also had. You wondered briefly if he'd gained all that from working out or if it had more to do with his nightly activities.

Though when you saw him grab onto the metal railing of your fire escape with both of his gloved hands, the movement drawing your attention away from observing him as he attempted to swing himself over it, you nearly screamed as you lurched forward. You lived on the fifth floor, was this man really about to fling himself off of the fire escape from all the way up here?

But the scream died in your throat the moment he cried out in pain, his feet slipping from off of the railing as he fell back onto your fire escape. He let out a hiss of pain as he clutched at his clearly injured side.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out, shoving the window open wider despite the cold and snow and leaning further forward. “You’re clearly not okay. Do you need something? An ambulance or something? Is there someone I can call? Or–or something I can do to help?”

The man rolled off his injured side and onto his back, gradually turning towards you as he lay on the fire escape. You hadn’t expected the amused and pained chuckle he emitted while the snow accumulated on the entire front of him, lightly covering the thin layer of his black shirt. Which you’d noticed had ridden up, revealing a small sliver of skin just above the dark, form fitting pants he was wearing. You tried hard to not keep glancing back at that patch of skin as it slowly rose higher and higher, unsure why you were so distracted by it.

The sound of his amusement soon drew you back to the moment and you cringed. Why the hell was he laughing?

“Are you alright? Did you…hit your head?” you asked him cautiously. “Maybe you have a concussion…”

Another amused sound slipped out of him, but that was quickly followed by a pained groan as he tried to once again rise up onto his feet. “I don’t have a concussion,” he assured you.

“You sure?” you asked, an eyebrow arching onto your forehead as you crossed your arms over your chest to stay warm when you began to shiver from the cold. “Because this doesn’t seem like a funny situation to me.”

“Well,” he grunted out, wincing as he drew back up to his full height, “normally I’m the one offering assistance, not the other way around. So yeah,” he continued with a faint shrug, your eyes once again catching the way he was holding his side, “it’s kind of amusing. In an…irritating sort of way.”

Your heart sank to your stomach at his words. “Oh, sorry,” you muttered, heat rushing up to your face instantly. “I didn’t mean to be annoying. I was just concerned–”

He took a half step forward, cutting you off as he waved a hand between the pair of you. He shook his head, letting out a slight huff of laughter. “No, I didn’t mean you were irritating. Just…this situation. The–the snow and the falling part.” In a quieter voice he added, “And having an audience for it.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you stood there studying him for a moment. He was injured and wearing barely anything at all in the middle of a blizzard. He looked like he needed help even if he seemed like the type not to ask for it.

“Do you want to come inside?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself. “I mean, to get warm and maybe sit down for a moment? I could call an ambulance or–or a taxi or something to bring you to a hospital.”

Another amused huff of laughter slipped out of him as he shook his head. “No hospitals, please. I’ll be alright. But…if you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind a moment to warm up.” His gloved hand lowered, pinching a bit of fabric from his shirt as he glanced down at it. “Admittedly this doesn’t offer much protection from the elements.”

You eyed the thin material between his gloves doubtfully. “Doesn’t look like it offers much protection from anything,” you told him.

A surprised bark of laughter peeled out of him, the sound drawing a smile onto your face. You’d made the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen laugh. Now that was something you weren’t going to forget anytime soon. He didn’t seem like the type to break character easily.

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” he agreed, his laughter subsiding.

Taking a step back from the window, you waved a hand towards him, gesturing for him to come inside. “How about you come in so I can close this window and we both can stop freezing?” you suggested, surprised at how bold you sounded considering who it was you were speaking with. “I’m shivering already so I can only imagine how cold you must be.”

You watched as his lips curled up into a charming grin at the corners, just beneath the black fabric of his mask. It was impossible to deny that he had a handsome face–at least, from what you could see of it. You imagined the rest of it to be just as attractive beneath that cloth and a sudden intense curiosity to know what the rest of it looked like overtook you as you watched him carefully climb through your opened window. He moved slowly, wincing in pain as he made his way inside. Despite his tough act, that fall must’ve really hurt his side and you frowned, wishing he’d accept your offer to help. There was no way he was as fine as he claimed to be, surely he needed medical attention.

“Takes a special kind of person to just invite me into their home so readily,” the Devil’s rough tone came out as he turned his back to you, shutting the window after himself. “Normally people prefer to avoid me.”

“You’re not dangerous,” you replied almost instantly.

The window closed with a sharp clack before his masked face turned over his snow-dusted shoulder, his attention fixed on you. “Oh?” he asked curiously, a smirk growing over his lips. “I’m not?”

Your eyes were drawn to his mouth, though it wasn’t like there was anywhere else to look when you spoke to him with that mask covering most of his face. The smirk appeared teasing, and for some reason that had the hair on the back of your neck bristling. You suddenly became very aware of the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra beneath your loose sweatshirt and it was now cold in your apartment. Quickly your arms wrapped over your chest, hugging yourself tight. His lips almost seemed to curl ever higher in response.

“I mean, you are ,” you amended, “but to, you know, criminals.”

You swallowed hard when he remained still, gazing at you over his shoulder wordlessly.There was something almost predatory in the way he was studying you. It was easy to see how this lone man terrified the criminals on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, striking fear into them. He certainly had a presence. Goosebumps rippled beneath the sleeves of your sweatshirt at his continued silent stare.

“Right?” you asked tentatively, voice softer.

His smirk vanished as the other corner of his mouth curled upwards into what felt like a warm smile despite you being unable to see if it reached his eyes. He nodded gently, turning slowly back towards you as he did.

“That's correct,” he agreed, brushing the snow from his broad shoulders. “I’m only dangerous to criminals. So unless you’re hiding any dead bodies or have some outstanding charges…?”

You laughed, though abruptly you snatched your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to quiet the noise instantly. He was witty and funny. You weren’t anticipating that. Or the way your reaction to his quips seemed to please him, like he was trying to charm you. Which seemed even more curious, considering who he was and what he spent his nights doing.

“Can't say that I do,” you said. “I'm probably the most boring person in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Well now,” he replied teasingly, “don't sell yourself short. I'm sure you're not taking that title all by yourself.”

That charming smile was back on his face and it had your stomach fluttering. Tearing your eyes away from him, you noticed the television was still paused on your show. Paused on a scene where the two actors on screen were clearly about to kiss. Cheeks burning, you hurried over and grabbed the remote from the couch and turned it off.

“You can make yourself comfortable if you want,” you told him, trying to keep the embarrassment out of your tone. “I've got a couple of blankets you can use to help warm you up.”

His heavy boots thudded with each of his steps as he crossed the room and made his way to the couch. You bent over, grabbing both blankets from your place on the couch where you'd previously been curled up as he passed behind you. The moment one of his cold gloves brushed against your back, you froze.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“No it's–it's fine,” you replied.

He passed behind you before settling onto the opposite end of the couch from where you had clearly taken residence. You forced a smile onto your face as you turned and leaned over, holding out the blankets towards him.

Pull yourself together , you internally chastised yourself. Just because it's been a while since you've had a man here doesn't mean you need to react to every little thing. That's not what this is, obviously.

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the blankets from your outstretched hand.

You nodded before sitting back down on the opposite end of the couch, keeping space between you and him. Curling your legs up under yourself, you watched as the Devil wasted no time throwing both blankets around himself, beginning to visibly shiver beneath them as he tried to warm up.

“Are you sure you don't want me to call anyone?” you asked him.

“No one to call,” he answered. “And a hospital would defeat the purpose of trying to remain anonymous.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” you muttered, glancing away and spotting the forgotten tea on your coffee table. “Would you like something to drink at least? Some water or some hot tea, maybe?”

His masked head tilted curiously to the side at your question, a grin returning to his plush lips. “Playing hostess?” he asked.

“Well I'm sure you've got to be thirsty running around Hell’s Kitchen and fighting criminals all the time,” you explained. “I always sort of wondered if you stashed water bottles around the city or stopped for water breaks somewhere–not where you live, I imagine. Since you're trying to keep your identity hidden.” Your eyes narrowed as you added, “Or do you just let yourself get dehydrated every time you're out? Because that's not good for you, you know.”

The Devil's grin grew wider as he shifted on the couch, facing you even more from his place on the cushions. “Oh?” he asked, curiosity in his tone. “You've thought about me before, have you?”

Eyes dropping down to your lap, you smiled sheepishly as you shrugged. “I mean, I've had some theories circulating about you ever since you kept reappearing in the news,” you admitted awkwardly. “Sort of hard not to.”

“Well now you have to indulge me,” he teased. “Enlighten me on some of these theories of yours.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you continued to avoid his covered stare. “I mean, they're not that interesting…”

“Oh come on,” he tried again. “It's not like we don't have the time. And maybe I can confirm or deny some of them for you. Besides, I admit I’m curious to know what you think of me. Especially being so willing to offer help like you did.”

Chewing your bottom lip, you glanced up at him from beneath your lashes. He looked far less intimidating beneath your blush pink blanket now. What would it hurt if you told him a few of your ideas about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? Maybe he might laugh at them, but would hearing that sound again be all that bad? And it truly would be interesting to learn more about the mysterious vigilante, something you'd probably never have the opportunity to do again.

“Okay,” you agreed with a nod. Straightening up on the couch, you turned to face him more fully. “So I've always thought with the way that you fight that you were trained by some sort of secret ninja assassin organization.”

A hearty chuckle filled your living room at your first theory. The pleasant and resonant noise left you grinning as your stomach fluttered in response. You briefly wondered how often the Devil actually laughed when he was out.

“I cannot confirm nor deny that,” he responded.

The playful smile that kept appearing on his face was beginning to further disarm you. You found yourself enjoying his company, soon becoming used to the way half his face was hidden from sight with that ridiculous fabric. And for some reason your unexplainable attraction to him was only growing.

“Next theory,” he prodded, the smile on his face apparent even in his voice.

“You're not wealthy,” you stated, leaning forward and grabbing your tea from the coffee table.

“Oh, ow,” he joked, playfully recoiling back from you on the couch. “What makes you say that?”

You waved a hand at him across from you as you settled back into the cushions, mug in hand. “Because you wear clothing that is obviously not meant to protect you very well in a fight,” you answered. “I imagine if you had money you'd have something…nicer. Meant for what you do. And,” you continued, pausing long enough to drink down some of your now barely warm tea, aware of him focused on you, “you protect Hell’s Kitchen. Only Hell’s Kitchen. This part of the city isn't exactly filled with the wealthiest people. And with how dedicated you are to everyone here, I assume it's because you probably grew up here yourself. Most likely still reside here, too.”

The Devil hummed appreciatively when you'd quieted, his masked gaze still on you. You swore you could feel it as you drank down more of your tea.

“You're observant,” he mused. “Maybe I need to watch myself around you.”

A surge of pride swelled in your chest; you hadn't expected his praise. Or the way it would make you feel. And apparently, you'd guessed something right about him.

“You're also not married or in a serious relationship,” you blurted before you could help yourself, wondering what more you could learn about him.

“Poor and unlovable?” the Devil asked with a surprised laugh. “That's what you think of me?”

“No,” you disagreed, laughing a little with him as you shook your head. “No, but I mean, I imagine you don't have time for someone else. And I figure most people wouldn’t like their partner going out and doing what you do. Putting yourself in danger.”

“Mmm,” he hummed out, shifting on the couch and making himself more comfortable. “A partner would certainly be…a distraction. A liability. One I couldn't really afford to have. So no, you're not wrong, I don't have one.”

You glanced down at your lap, your fingers fidgeting with the mug in your hands. Half of you was hoping to hear that he wasn't with anyone–though you refused to admit to yourself why that mattered–but the other half of you had heard the way he'd said that a partner would be a distracting liability and you’d felt a sad pang hit you in the chest. Considering how much he seemed to be enjoying your company when he didn't even know you had you guessing that the Devil was a lonely man deep down.

But that wasn't a theory you felt comfortable sharing.

“Any others?” he asked, breaking through your thoughts.

Clearing your throat, you focused back on him across the couch from you. His smile had disappeared, his lips now downturned at the corners just a bit. His posture had changed in your silence, the same as his mood, as if he'd picked up on the subtle change in yours somehow.

Strange.

“I imagine you're the kind of guy who's fridge is always empty,” you answered.

A ghost of a smile reappeared on his face as he huffed out an amused breath. You couldn't fight the smile returning to your own lips at the sight of his again.

“Well hey now,” he countered lightly, “there's usually beer. Sometimes orange juice and eggs.”

You giggled, unable to stop yourself. “Who'd have guessed the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is just your average bachelor?”

“Average?” he repeated in mock offense, his head tilting to the side. “I'm just average now?”

Quirking a brow at him in a challenging manner, your own head cocked to the side. “Maybe tell me more about yourself and I could say otherwise,” you boldly teased back.

“Well obviously,” he began, grinning at you in a way that had your body heating, “I can't exactly do that now can I? Defeats the purpose–

“Of remaining anonymous,” you finished for him. “I've picked up on the importance of that.”

A silence soon settled between the pair of you, one that slowly began to cause your nerves to grow with the way he kept smiling at you. Once again you desperately found yourself wanting to see the rest of his face, curious to know just how handsome he really was under that black mask. Though you settled for studying what you could see, your eyes tracing the soft curves of his pink lips, noticing the way they very minutely twitched under your scrutiny. Eventually your gaze dropped down, following the hard lines of his stubbled jaw. As your eyes trailed further down, they lingered on the part of his neck that wasn't covered by the blankets he’d wrapped around himself for warmth. A heat burned in you as the urge to reach out and just touch him, just to see if he was real, suddenly grew within you. It didn't help that it almost felt like you could feel the weight of his own eyes fixed on you beneath the mask, once again making you very aware of your lack of bra beneath your sweatshirt.

Catching your lip between your teeth, you noticed the way his throat bobbed with a hard swallow. Had he been having similar thoughts? Observing you, too?

Inhaling a sharp breath through your nose at the idea, you knew you needed to stop this line of thinking and stop it fast. There was absolutely no way the Devil would be interested in you. Certainly not like that. That was absurd.

“Would you like something to eat?” you asked, trying to calm your pulse. “If your fridge is empty all the time I'm guessing you could use something to eat.”

“I mean, I suppose if you’re–”

He stopped short the exact moment that the lights died, throwing the pair of you into almost complete darkness. You sucked in a breath, turning to look out the window just to your right. It was eerily dark outside, a sight that was rare in the city. Even the buildings across the street had been thrown into darkness. There was nothing but the howling wind and snow outside.

“Guess it was too much to hope the power wouldn’t go out in this mess,” you breathed out.

“I suppose so,” he replied, his tone just as soft.

Reaching blindly forward, you set your almost empty mug onto the coffee table before you. For a moment you reached around on the surface until your fingers brushed against your phone. You picked it up and unlocked the screen, grateful for the bit of light it shed in the dark as you turned on the flashlight function.

“So I can’t offer you a nice cooked meal without power,” you told him, rising to your feet, “but I can get you an apple and a couple of protein bars? If you’d…like?”

“You don’t have to, but I’d appreciate it,” he said.

“It’s the least I can do for the man who does so much for the rest of us,” you told him, maneuvering around the couch and navigating your way to the kitchen by the light of your phone. “I’d feel awful leaving you hungry and dehydrated.”

Wrapping one arm around your chest to try to fight the chill that had been steadily creeping into you, you headed towards a cabinet near the sink. Reaching up, you grabbed a glass from out of it before taking a moment to fill it beneath the faucet before setting it along the countertop. Then you plucked an apple out of a fruit bowl on your counter, taking a moment to rinse it off first. The moment you’d turned off the faucet you heard his voice from across the apartment.

“You’re cold.”

For a moment you found it odd how his words hadn’t come out as a question but more of an observation, though you quickly shrugged the strangeness of that aside. You set the apple down on the counter beside the glass of water before sliding a step to your right and opening up another cabinet.

“It’s alright, I’m fine,” you answered, trying to shine the light from your phone into the cabinet to read the labels on the boxes. “I wasn’t the one out in that snowstorm wearing barely anything at all.”

“You say that like I was out there naked.”

His voice had unexpectedly come from just behind you this time and it jolted your heart in your chest instantly. His sudden proximity mixed with his word choice had you startling on the spot. Your hand that had been about to pull the box of protein bars out of the cabinet accidentally bumped it instead, causing the entire box to slip off of the shelf. But before it could tumble to the floor and spill its contents, a black gloved hand darted out beside your face, catching it before it had barely fallen six inches.

You stood there rooted to the spot, his hand just brushing your arm as his held the box of protein bars. The hair on the back of your neck had risen, aware that he was standing barely a foot behind you now. Slowly, you turned over your shoulder to look at him. Your pulse quickened further at how close his face was to yours. He was looking at you, too. Or at least, he was facing you. Eyes dropping down, you couldn’t help but notice that mouth of his again.

“I apologize,” he said, your eyes watching as his lips moved. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Sometimes I forget how quiet I can be. I just wanted to give you one of the blankets. No sense in me using both when you’re cold.”

“Oh,” you whispered, unable to form any other response.

With his attention still on you, he reached up and slid the box back onto the shelf. Then he seemed to take a purposeful step back from you, his lips set in a straight line. You wondered what was going on in his mind right now, because you were sure there had to be something. Had he felt the tension you’d just felt? Or were you just ridiculous and overly hopeful?

And why did it even matter? You were never going to see this man again after tonight anyway.

Blinking a few times, you returned your attention to the shelf. Reaching up, you slid your hand into the box that had nearly taken a nosedive to your kitchen floor and pulled out two protein bars. Keeping your eyes actively focused away from the Devil nearby, you closed the cabinet and slid a step back to your left, grabbing the glass of water in your hand with your phone and the apple in the same hand as the bars. Though before you could turn around, you felt something gently drape over your shoulders. Looking down, you noticed it was the pink blanket he’d been wearing.

“Like I said,” he repeated, “there’s no sense in me using both.”

“Right,” you whispered, pulse pounding in your throat.

Turning on your heel, you stepped past him and made your way back to the living room by the light of your phone. This time you heard the heavy steps of him following after you. You assumed that was intentional.

“So why were you out in this blizzard tonight anyway?” you asked him, making your way around the couch. You hoped having something to talk about would distract you from whatever it was he kept stirring inside of you. “Surely there aren’t a lot of crimes being committed in this weather?”

The Devil let out a light laugh as he accepted the offered glass of water and food from you. One of your brows quirked curiously onto your forehead at his reaction as you sat back down in your original spot on the couch. Though you noticed as he took a large drink from the cup while lowering himself onto the cushions that he’d sat closer to you than before. You watched as he ripped open a protein bar and tore off a large bite next, but he didn't answer until a moment later when he’d swallowed the bite down. Internally you noted he must’ve been hungrier than he let on with the way he was devouring that bar and you’d wished you’d had more food to offer him with the power out.

“You’d be correct,” he told you. “And yet I still stupidly made my way out into this storm tonight in the hopes of catching a lead on something. Instead all I got was my ass frozen and my side bruised.”

You watched as he took another large bite of the protein bar, chewing it almost contemplatively as his head canted to the side. You could still see him in the beam of light from your phone which you were still clutching in your hand. Somehow this lighting made him even more appealing as it cast sharp shadows along his jaw.

“Though I suppose unexpectedly meeting you was a highlight,” he added, causing your cheeks to flush. “But you know, you never did give me your name.”

“Well you never exactly gave me yours,” you immediately quipped back.

Those beautiful lips of his curved upwards yet again as he chewed the last bite of the first protein bar. What you wouldn’t give to see if that smile had reached his eyes.

“Alright, point taken,” he replied.

Tearing your gaze away from him, you focused on your phone. If you kept the flashlight running the battery would die in no time. And who knew how long the power might be out for, you might need it later. You supposed you didn't need it on just for a conversation.

“I’m going to turn the flashlight off on my phone for now, if that's alright?” you told him, fingers darting across the screen to do just that. “Might need the battery on this later.”

“That’s alright,” he replied, sounding as if he was chewing another bite of food. “I don’t need it.”

He’d made the comment just as you’d leaned forward to set your phone back onto the coffee table, but you’d paused as the words processed in your mind. Your eyes narrowed again as your mind raced. Something about the way he’d said that sounded as if it had another meaning to it. But before you could put too much thought into it, he’d changed the topic.

“You’re still cold,” he pointed out. “That blanket alone isn't helping.”

Brows furrowing together as you slowly sat back, you wondered how he could possibly know that. The pair of you were in almost pitch black again with your phone flashlight off. It wasn't like he could see you and you hadn't been shivering, though there were definitely goosebumps dotting your skin. How could he possibly know?

“I’m fine,” you said, pulling the blanket you had on tighter around yourself. “It’s bound to get colder here with the power out now.”

“And with how long you had your window open earlier,” he added. “The temperature is going to drop in here faster than it would have if you hadn’t helped me.”

You sighed, frowning in his general direction. “So much for being able to help you warm up,” you muttered. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” he assured you.

It felt as if he was shifting on the couch nearby. Your brows knitted further together as you tried to make out what he was doing through the dark. All you could see was a faint mass of black that seemed darker than the rest of the blackness. Then moments later you felt a blanket being draped over your lap.

“No, uh uh,” you said, shaking your head and immediately grabbing the blanket. “There’s two blankets, we can clearly share.”

“You’re freezing,” he countered.

“And you’re not cold?” you shot back.

“Doesn’t matter, you’ve already been far kinder than I deserved this evening,” he replied.

You grabbed the blanket in your hands and stubbornly tossed it back in his general direction. An audible sigh sounded through the darkness to your left.

“You know I can just leave, right?” he told you. “Which would leave you with no reason to not use both blankets.”

Your eyes narrowed in the direction of the sound of his voice. “But then you’d be allowing more cold air into my apartment, which would only make the temperature drop faster in here,” you argued back. “Then I'd really be cold.”

He breathed out a laugh and you imagined the smile on his lips at the sound. You smiled triumphantly back at the dark shape of him because you knew you had a good point. Even though really, you could just layer on more clothes.

“Okay,” he relented. “That’s true. So how about…we share?”

The smile on your face quickly disappeared at his suggestion. Mouth dropping open, you felt your heart skip a beat in your chest. It took you a few seconds to regain the ability to respond.

“Share?” you asked.

“Body heat would certainly keep us both warmer,” he answered. “So would sharing two blankets instead of using only one.”

“Oh, uh, well,” you stammered, your mind racing at the thought of your body pressed up against his. “I–I–”

His deep laugh rumbled towards you through the darkness, the sound causing your lips to clamp shut.

“I’m not suggesting anything immoral,” he assured you. “Simply a possible solution to the very real problem of us freezing in here. Unless, of course, you’d prefer me to leave?”

“No!” you exclaimed.

Immediately your eyes widened in horror at how quickly you’d responded to that. And judging by his chuckle, he’d also noticed, too. Your face scrunched up as you mentally scolded yourself for sounding so eager to keep him here in your apartment.

“Well in that case, we could share the blankets and our body heat,” he suggested again. “Because the temperature has definitely dropped a few degrees already and it's only going to continue if the power stays out.”

Nervously your tongue slid out, licking your lips. You were trying hard to control the racing of your heart, positive he could hear it with how hard it was beating now. Of course you weren’t going to pass up a chance to basically cuddle the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen for warmth during a snowstorm. You just needed to find a way to not sound so eager to accept his offer first.

“I suppose you…have a point there,” you said slowly, trying to keep your voice even. “That’s–that’s usually what people do in survival situations. Use their body heat to keep warm.”

An amused huff came from him and you realized he’d scooted even closer to you on the couch. Your breath caught in your throat the moment you felt his thigh bump against yours.

“So are we in agreement with sharing both blankets, then?” he asked.

“That–that appears to be the most logical solution to the problem,” you answered. “So yeah, I guess we…share the blankets.”

Despite the lack of light, the Devil seemed to move with ease and fluidity through the darkness, something you were paying close attention to as he gently sidled his way up against the side of you, managing to wrap both blankets around the pair of you. All the while you’d sat pin straight on the couch, aware that he was flush to your side from your shoulder all the way down to your knee. You clasped your hands in your lap, unsure of where else to place them. Truthfully, you had to admit you were already much warmer like this, with his body heat enveloping you beneath both blankets.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked, his tone far gentler than it had been all evening. “Because that's not my intention.”

“No,” you answered with a light shake of your head. “You're not.”

He chuckled softly, his body shaking yours slightly with the movement. Your head turned towards him and you wished you could see at least the part of his face that was visible right now.

“Then why are you so tense?” he questioned.

“I'm not tense!” you lied.

He laughed again, this time louder. The movement jostled you somehow further into his side, though your hand flew out and landed flat on his very solid chest as you tried to stop yourself from falling further into him. Your eyes widened in horror yet again, but before you could push yourself away you felt his arm wrapping around your shoulders and allowing you to sink even more into him. Heat was very much creeping up your neck and reaching your cheeks now in embarrassment.

“You're very tense actually,” he teased. “If you're uncomfortable I can move, but we aren't going to be sharing much body heat if you don't actually sit next to me.”

Slowly you removed your hand from his chest, lowering it to your lap. Though with the way you were sitting facing partially towards him now, your knuckles were brushing against his thigh.

“I am not tense,” you grumbled. “And you aren't making me uncomfortable. This is just…awkward. I barely know you and you don't know me.”

“Okay,” he conceded. “How about since you've guessed a few things about me, I think it's only fair you tell me a few things about yourself now.”

“I told you I'm not very interesting,” you reminded him.

“Ah, well,” he replied with a shrug, “I think I'd like to decide that for myself.”

Biting your lip, you turned your burning face and buried it into his shoulder, glad he couldn't see how nervous he'd suddenly made you. It was hard to tell if he was flirting with you or if that was just his vigilante persona–when he wasn't beating people, of course.

With your nose pressed against the fabric of his shirt, you noticed he smelled surprisingly good. There was the hint of his sweat, but there was also a faint clean detergent scent. You closed your eyes and tried to relax, inhaling a deep breath in. Even though he was still a stranger and a vigilante, he seemed kind and safe so far. And he also hadn't thrown you off of himself for getting even closer to him, either. Maybe you should just do what he seemed to be doing: relax and enjoy the unexpected cuddles tonight with an unexpected acquaintance.

“Alright, what do you want to know?” you whispered, eyes still closed as you focused on his scent.

Eyes fluttering open, you felt yourself waking from a deep, comfortable sleep. Though your eyes instantly snapped closed against the bright light that immediately assaulted them. Slowly you blinked them back open, trying to adjust to the surprising sunshine pouring through your living room window. Gradually you began to push yourself upright, realizing you were laying with your head on a couch pillow, both of your blankets snuggly wrapped around you. For a moment your face twisted into a look of confusion as you hesitated, staring down at the two blankets. Why had you been asleep on your couch?

But then flashes of last night came back to you. The masked man falling onto your fire escape. The joking and constant banter between the pair of you. Darkness when the power went out and the feel of his warm, muscular body wrapped around yours as he tried to keep you warm. The scent of clean detergent and his sweat. The feel of his spandex shirt against your fingertips and your cheek as you rested your head against his shoulder.

Had that all really happened? Or had you just fallen asleep on your couch and dreamt it?

Your attention shifted towards your coffee table and your sluggish brain processed the sight of your almost empty mug of tea, left abandoned all night, and an empty glass of water. Pushing yourself the rest of the way upright on the couch, your head turned over your shoulder. The lock on your living room window was undone.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen really had been in your apartment last night. Which meant the pair of you really had cuddled together for warmth when your power had gone out. And you really did meet him. At least, somewhat.

“Oh my God,” you breathed out in awe. “He was really here.”

But just as the rush of excitement at meeting someone you’d always secretly admired filled you, it quickly vanished. Because you must have fallen asleep on him sometime last night when the pair of you were talking, and then he must’ve slipped out of your apartment before the sun came up, probably when the power had come back on. Which made sense, considering he wouldn’t want to be seen sneaking back to his own apartment in such a conspicuous outfit.

But what was upsetting you was the growing realization that it wasn’t just the first time you’d met him, but it would most likely be the last. And you’d gone and fallen asleep through part of that meeting.

Stupid stupid stupid.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #matt murdock series #matt murdock #daredevil

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stylesloveclub · 2 years

Text

Pleasing (grumpy h blurb)

In which Harry's acting kinda grumpy, and y/n helps him... destress. :)

+++

Harry’s hand slams onto his phone, muting the blaring chimes of his 6 AM alarm. His head hurts and his eyes are heavy, and the thought of having to get out of bed, get dressed, and go to a business meeting when it’s still dark outside makes his feel physically ill.

He’s tired… beyond tired. Last night had been another one of his annual “In-Chef nights.” He’d been up on his feet, cooking meal after meal from 6 PM all the way until midnight, and had then spent an additional two hours with his staff cleaning up. He’d driven home in the cold rain, and didn’t even have enough energy to change into his pajamas when he got home. He just stripped down to his briefs, and collapsed into his bed.

Running on barely four hours of sleep, he’s feeling cranky and miserable and irritable. The sound of his alarm has been nagging at him through three snooze cycles, and he knows if he stays in bed any longer, he’s going to be running late.

He forces himself to blink his eyes open. He feels gross and sluggish, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, and letting out a loud groan. The early morning meeting he has today isn’t even one that he’s excited for… he hates the constructors that are helping him open a new Pleasing location in New York. They’re bad communicators, and always make mistakes in the plans that they’ve made. Harry’s a very particular man, he’s picky about the way his food is cooked, a neat freak in his home, and has an organized schedule that he never strays from. So working with these incompetent people, who somehow always manage to royally fuck something up… god it really gets Harry frustrated.

He yanks the blanket off of himself and swings his legs over the side of the bed. His feet meet the floor, and it’s ice cold. Great.

This is just fucking great.

+++

“Jesus fucking christ.”

Harry takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes to calm himself. It doesn’t work. His nostrils are flaring and his eyes have turned a dark, angry shade of green. “I fuckin’ said last week that I wanted gas stoves. So why is there an order for six electric stove tops?”

Ian, the contractor, fumbles in front of Mr. Styles, cheeks turning red. “Uh-um, t-the installation of the electric stoves was cheaper.”

“What did I explicitly ask for,” Harry seethes.

“Err– t-the gas–”

“So what in your right mind made you think that I’d be okay with this?”

“I– well, sir, we just wanted to go with the option that was more affordable–”

“Do you think I give a fuck which one is cheaper?” Harry yells. “For fuck’s sake, I’m running a multi-million business!” He slams the papers he’d been holding onto the desk in front of him and stands up angrily, his chair scratching loudly against the hardwood floors. “Get this fixed, today,” he says before storming out of the conference room and slamming the door behind him.

He locks himself into his office, and sits in his chair, rubbing his red-veined eyes. He’s too tired to have to deal with all this shit today. How hard is it for people to follow instructions? His life would be so much easier if everyone else didn’t fuck up so much.

He sits there for a few minutes with his head in his hands, fingers still rubbing at his eyes to try and soothe away the burning feeling he feels every time he opens them. His head is starting to hurt, a pounding migraine so intense that he can feel his heartbeat in his ears, and his stomach hurts. All he had to eat today was a black coffee before he went into that horrific meeting five hours ago.

Yes, the one hour meeting they had planned had ended up taking five hours instead. He literally had to clear his schedule to fix all the fucking mistakes that they were making. They’d chosen the wrong tiles for the floor, ordered the wrong stove tops for the kitchen, and had designed all of the countertops to be one inch too low… it literally pained him to be working with such incompetent designers.

And now he was behind on his work.

He lets out a tired sigh and turns on his desktop, opening his emails. The bright screen makes his eyes sting, and he has to squint to read the tiny word on the screen. He scrambles around in his drawers and finds his reading glasses, but still, the words blur together and make his head hurt. He bares with the pain, and spends an hour or so responding to emails and filling out paperwork, until there’s a knock at his door.

“What is it?” he calls out a bit snappily, not looking up from his paperwork.

He hears the door jiggle, trying to open but struggling against the lock. “It’s me, Mr. Styles!”

Immediately, he puts his pen down and unlocks the door for his sweet y/n to come in. She’s holding a plate of food for him, and looks up at him with her pretty smile, cheeks warm and dimpled with kindness.

“Hey puppy,” he murmurs, surprised. She hadn’t come in for the majority of this week because she had finals. In fact, she just had her physics final just this morning.

“Hi!” she says enthusiastically, entering his office. “Teddy told me that you’ve been here since 8, n’that you haven’t eaten anything all day.” She looks up at him with her adorable bambi eyes, “How come you’re allowed to scold me for not eating enough at work when you’re skipping meals too?”

He smiles lightly, “you’re right puppy, that’s hypocritical of me.”

“Very hypocritical,” she nods resolutely. “So, I brought you some food! I had Teddy make it, ‘cos I know he’s your favorite.”

His stomach growls at the sight of the fettuccini alfredo in front of him. He’s starving but he’d been way too caught up in his work to think about getting up to get himself any food. “Thank you,” he says, taking the plate from her and picking up her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles.

“It smells yummy, so I want some too,” she says, sitting down on the chair behind his desk. “But we gotta eat it quick, ‘cos I’m supposed to get back out there in five minutes.”

“Thought you weren’t meant to come in today?” he says, sitting down next to her.

“I wasn’t scheduled,” she says, shoving a forkful of the pasta into her mouth, “but then Grace texted me asking if I could cover for her. She got the flu.”

Harry hums, grabbing a tissue from his desk, and wipes off the little bit of white sauce clinging onto y/n’s lips, her mouth full of deliciously creamy and garlicky pasta. “How were your exams?”

She rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Don’t talk about it. So hard, but everyone else said it was super hard too, so hopefully there’s a fat curve.” She claps her hands excitedly, “But at least I’m done! No more school for the rest of the month!!!”

Despite his initial grumpy mood, he can’t help the smile that graces his face. His girlfriend is literally the cutest thing in the world, especially when she gets all giddy and excited like this. She’d been really stressed out and MIA all week because of her exams, so it’s refreshing to see his lively and happy y/n again.

“So proud of you puppy,” he says, cupping her cheek and giving her a kiss.

She twirls a forkful of pasta for Harry and feeds it to him. “Are we gonna hang out tonight?” she asks.

“Of course. Need t’cuddle tonight, you’ve been so busy I feel neglected.” Just sitting with y/n for a few minutes has already calmed Harry down, the stress in his body fizzling away.

She giggles cutely. “Okay baby. We can spend alllll night together.”

+++

The ache in his stomach fades away after finishing the pasta that y/n brought for him, and after popping an advil, he feels his headache start to slowly go away as well. He’d gotten an email that the electric stove tops had been returned and that an order for the gas ones had been put in, so he’s feeling more relaxed about that as well.

He lounges around in his office until y/n is done with her shift, and they sneak out the back exit to head home together. He’s got a one hand feel on the steering wheel, the other on her thigh, and he’s feeling much better than he was this morning when he’d been all grumpy and stressed out.

When they get to a stop light, his phone rings. He thinks nothing of it when he picks up, not even looking at the caller id. “Hello?” he answers casually.

“Er– Hi, Mr. Styles.”

Harry rolls his eyes. It’s Ian on the phone. “What’s going on?” he says tersely.

“Um… so we figured out the stove issue, which is great…”

The light turns green. “Okay…?” Harry says, slightly annoyed.

“So… well– the stove company said that the shipment is gonna take a few weeks, which is gonna put the construction schedule behind since we can’t install the countertops until we put the stoves in, which means…” Harry sighs in disappointment, already knowing what’s coming. “Well, it means that the restaurant might not be ready for the opening date that we’d set.”

“Ian,” Harry’s knuckles are turning white around the steering wheel, and he’s using every cell in his body to keep his voice steady so that he doesn’t start yelling in front of y/n. “When I signed that contract with you, didn’t we agree it would be done in three months?”

“I– yes, it’s really unfortunate–” Ian stammers, but Harry cuts him off.

“I don’t want to hear fuckin’ excuses,” Harry bites. “We signed a contract.”

“Sir, I don’t know what to tell you,” Ian says casually.

“How about we start with the fact that this issue could’ve been completely avoided had you simply followed the plan that we had agreed upon?” Harry’s voice is steadily rising, an angry fire to his tone. “Or how much money you’ve already cost me from all the mistakes you’ve made? I signed a contract and I expect the deadline to be met. It’s far too late to push back the opening of the restaurant.”

“It’s out of my control–” Ian tries to explain, but Harry won’t hear it.

“Jesus christ, do I need to do everything for you?” Harry bursts. “Call the company and tell them the delivery is for Harry Styles! Figure it out with the investors, pay them extra! We will not be pushing the date back, not when we’ve already invested so much into it.” Harry hangs up the phone angrily and throws it into his lap. “Fucking hell,” he breathes angrily.

Y/n sits next to him quietly, her eyes wide. “Everything okay?” she asks timidly.

“S’fine,” he bristles tersely, pulling into his parking spot. He puts the car in park and gets out of the car, slamming the door behind him with such aggression that y/n winces for the car.

Scrambling behind him like a little puppy, she follows him into his penthouse. There’s an angry furrow in his brow as they ride up the elevator, and his lips are pressed together in a frustrated line as he types out a message on his phone. He storms into the kitchen without even glancing at y/n, and pours himself a glass of ice cold water to maybe help himself calm down.

Y/n stands shyly behind the kitchen counter, not saying anything but watching him quietly.

“Just a second, puppy,” he says, his tone impatient and clipped, pushing past her to head into his home office. He dials the number of one of his restaurant’s business partners on the phone, and spends nearly half an hour figuring out what they were going to do.

“I want a new fuckin’ contractor,” Harry rants.

His partner. Niall, gives out a hearty laugh, “I know mate, but don’t worry. I’ll figure it out for ya. I know the guys over there, I’ll give ‘em a ring and see if they can get your appliances sent over any quicker.”

“Thank you,” he mutters gratefully. Finally, there was someone who knew how to get shit done. He hangs up the phone and runs his fingers through his hair frustratedly. His headache is back and his neck and shoulders hurt from being so tense.

Y/n knocks on his office door, and he sighs heavily. “Not now, puppy, v’got to send some emails.”

She steps in, despite the fact that he’s dismissed her, with sad eyes and a pout on her lips. “If this is how it’s gonna be all night then… I’m just gonna go home.”

His eyes snap up. “What?”

“You’re working and being all… grumpy,” she says quietly. “So I’m gonna get an uber.”

“Y/n, don’t be like that.” He looks at her with an exasperated look. “Something important came up, v’got to deal with it.”

“I’m not trying to be like anything,” she shrugs. “You’re stressed out and you don’t wanna talk, so I feel like I’m just annoying you by being here.”

“Baby…” he sighs, rolling away from his desk and getting up to go stand in front of her. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest in a shy, almost protective manner, and she has her bag hanging off of her shoulder, fully prepared to leave. Standing in front of her, he can see the sadness in her eyes. “Don’t go, m’sorry.”

“I know you’re upset…” she whispers, looking down at the floor, “but that doesn’t give you the right to be snappy with me. It hurts my feelings.”

Oh, his precious girl, so sweet and sensitive. His heart breaks a little bit, knowing that he’d made her sad… he’d been so caught up in his own stress that he’d neglected her feelings. He knows that she was probably so excited to come over after having finished all her exams… and he knows that she’s sensitive. She gets teary eyed whenever someone uses a stern voice with her, cries for days if she ever gets yelled at. Of course it would hurt her when he pushes her aside and snaps at her to leave him alone.

He pulls her into his chest, “Sweetheart, you’re right, m’sorry. I shouldn’t be takin’ it out on you, you’ve done nothing but been sweet t’me all day.” She’d brought food for him when he was hungry, was cheerful and lovely on the car ride home, and had tried to talk to him when he was upset… only to get pushed away at the end of the night.

“I wanna stay, but not if you’re gonna be mean,” she says into his chest.

He presses a kiss to her hair, “no, m’done puppy. Not gonna be mean, promise. Please, stay?”

She looks up at him and smiles softly. “Okay,” she puckers her lips and leans up for a quick kiss. “Thank you.”

He smooths his hand over her hair, and rests his head atop her cheek, still hugging her close. She’s warm and smells sweet… holding her in his arms is all he wants to do for the rest of his life.

“How about I go take a shower while you send your emails, and then we can go to bed?” she suggests, pulling away.

He shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. No more emails tonight, I can send them in the morning.” It’s late at night anyways, it wouldn’t make a difference if he sent them now or tomorrow.

“M’getting in that shower with you.”

+++

In the shower, y/n washes away all of Harry’s stress and worries. She lathers up the loofah with the rose scented body wash that she keeps in his shower, and rubbed it all over his chest and back and biceps. She even went so far as to lift his arms above his head and scrub his armpits for him, making Harry cackle at how silly she was.

Then, she took his yummy smelling shampoo and had him bend down so that she could wash his hair for him. She threaded her fingers through his hair and scratched at his scalp deliciously, scrubbing his hair as though he were getting spoiled at the salon. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as the foamy shampoo dripped down his forehead, but she always made sure to rinse the bubbles away before they got into his eyes.

They got out and dried themselves together, standing in front of Harry’s heater in their towels for a few minutes while y/n brushed her hair. He changed himself into only a pair of boxers, while y/n opted to skip on undergarments (it’s very important to let ur pussy breathe!!!), putting on only a pair of thin sleep shorts and one of Harry’s huge t-shirts.

“M’gonna give you a massage,” she tells Harry once they’re both changed, shoving him onto the bed. He chuckles to himself at her weak attempt to manhandle him, but complies easily, settling onto his stomach so that she could straddle his back. She squirts some lotion onto her hands and warms it up between her palms, then rubs it smoothly onto Harry’s broad and muscular back.

“Mm, thank you baby,” he groans. “So good t’me.”

It’s all innocent at first – y/n knows that Harry was stressed out and probably super tense, so she thought giving him a nice massage to work out the knots in his shoulders would be nice. But, of course, with Harry shirtless underneath her, it’s hard for her thoughts to stay completely pure.

Harry’s so strong and muscled… it’s so hot. He feels firm underneath her hands, her palms smoothing over the ridges and curves of the muscles in his toned back. His shoulders are broad and his biceps look huge, even without being flexed or anything. The skin of his back is warm and smooth… so soft and tan. Her mouth waters as she rubs her hands up and down his back.

Her fingers find his shoulders and she kneads them deeply, which makes Harry let out a loud groan. His shoulders are particularly tense, and her little fingers are rubbing the tight knots in them so nicely. “Harder baby,” he grunts, and she obliges. Her thumbs dig deep into the meat of his shoulders and rub in slow, painful circles.

She uses all her strength to massage him. He’s so built, every inch of his back covered with hard muscles, that it takes a lot of energy to really get in there. She has to put her entire weight into her hands and press deep onto his back. Luckily, the lotion made it easy for her to glide over his skin and knead his sore muscles. The groans that he lets out tell her which spots to focus on.

His eyes are shut, eyebrows furrowed with pleasure. It hurts so good. His cock has started to plump up a bit, twitching every time her delicate fingers knead a particularly painful knot in his back. She keeps rubbing him, digging her fingers into his muscles, and the pressure in his cock grows unbearable.

He flips himself around, unable to deal with it any longer. Y/n gasps at his sudden movement, then finds herself short of breath when she settles herself back down on his lap and feels how hard he is underneath her. Straddling his hips in nothing but her little, thin pair of sleep shorts, she can feel him… feels the curve of his cock, restrained in his boxers, and feels the ridge of his tip nudging against her clit. She’s sure that he can probably feel her pussy too, feel every fold and the tiny bud of her clit.

He smirks up at her when her little pussy flutters around nothing, twitching so delicately against his clothed cock. Her center feels hot, keeping him warm while she sits prettily atop him. “Keep going baby…” he says, voice low and dangerous. “M’arms hurt so much, can you rub ‘em for me?”

He pouts up at her, but it’s a mocking pout. He knows exactly what she’s thinking about, and it’s much more filthy than his innocent request for an arm massage.

Nonetheless, she squirts some more lotion on her hands and brings them down to his strong biceps. He’d been to the gym yesterday for arms, so he wasn’t lying when he said they were sore. But also, that means they’re particularly pumped today, firm and delicious… y/n just wants to bite them.

His hands rest on her hips while she rubs her palms up and down his arms, his thumbs tracing soft circles onto the skin of thigh where her shorts have ridden up. She looks like she’s intently focused on rubbing his arms, but really, she can’t stop thinking about the way his cock feels underneath her. He subtly grips her hips and presses her down harder onto the hard bulge in his pants, and lets out a strained breath through his nose. Y/n similarly feels her breath catch in her throat, her hands pausing momentarily as she flutters her eyes shut.

“Feels so good baby,” he murmurs when her hands migrate up to massage his chest, rubbing circles over his swallows and tracing over his butterfly delicately. It’s a not-so subtle innuendo to fuel the fire of the sexual tension burning between the two of them right now.

The hands on her hips start to slide upwards, under her shirt to rest on her warm tummy. He can see the soft peaks of her nipples poking through the shirt she’s wearing. “Baby… show me y’pretty tits, please?” he begs. He slides his hands even higher until his fingers graze the undersides of her breasts. “Had such a long day, I deserve a treat don’ I?”

“Y-yeah,” she agrees softly, taking her shirt off and throwing it onto the floor. She’s left topless, her perky nipple peaking in the cold air of Harry’s bedroom, and her wet pussy pressed firmly to his hard cock.

She continues rubbing his chest with her tits out, and Harry takes it upon himself to do the same to her. He plays with her tits, holds them in his palms and rubs his thumbs over her hard nipples. Still, it’s not enough.

“Come closer, baby,” he murmurs lowly, guiding her forward. She inches forward slowly, back arching while holding herself up with her arms, until her boobs are hanging in front of Harry’s face.

He sticks his tongue out and leans up, attaching himself to her nipple and sucking it into his mouth gently. His tongue licks the soft bud gently, and he hums happily. “Mmm, baby, so nice to me,” he mutters, switching to her other nipple, “Lettin’ daddy play with your pretty tits ‘cos I had a long day.” Hand engulfs the breast that he’d just hand in his mouth, palming it gently while his tongue plays with the other. His teeth skim her soft skin gently, and he starts sucking. Each purse of his lip and pass of his tongue sends a shock straight down to y/n’s center, and she’s absolutely, totally drenched. Her heart is beating erratically in her chest, and she can’t help herself before grinding herself down.

Since she’s lifted herself up to align her tits with Harry’s face, she’s no longer sitting on his bulge, but instead now sitting on the butterfly painted on his abdomen. She presses herself onto his abs, soothing the dull ache that comes each time he hums around her breast.

Her boobs are so plump and plushy, dangling in front of his mouth and covered in his spit. His hands grope her chest sensually, pushing her breasts into his face and letting himself indulge like a teenage boy. He lets them bounce on his face, skimming his lips against them then pulling himself back, teasing himself. He nudges his nose against them, and they jiggle prettily right in front of his face. God, he’s making himself so hard, playing with her tits like this, having them all up in his face. All he can see is her skin, the roundness of her breasts, the soft bud of her nipples. No matter which way he turns his head, he makes contact with her, her nipples skimming his cheeks or his lips dancing against her sideboob.

“Jus-” she gasps when he takes her boob back between his lips and sucks, tongue curling around her nipple, “Jus’ wanna make you happy daddy.”

“Doing so good baby, taking caring of me so well,” he murmurs, barely moving his lips from her skin before reattaching to her areola. “You know what would make daddy so happy?”

“W-what?” she whimpers, pushing her clit down against his hard abs.

“If you got on my cock and got yourself off. Could you do that for me, puppy?”

She nods eagerly and shuffles herself down, shoving Harry’s briefs down. His cock bounces up and slaps against his stomach, the tip completely slick with his own precum and arousal. She doesn’t even bother warming herself or Harry up – the massage and his little play session had gotten both of them 100% ready.

She doesn’t take her sleep shorts off, genuinely too excited to stuff herself full of his cock. Grabbing him by the shaft, she hovers right over his hips and slowly guides him into her dripping cunt. The slide in is easy, absolutely no resistance from how wet she is, and she’s able to bottom out on the first go.

Her hands rest on his chest to support herself, and she starts to lift her hips, up and down, skin meeting skin with every drop down. Her nails dig into his flesh, and it hurts just as good as her massage had. She’s riding him like she never has before – usually she’s a bit of a princess, mostly grinding her clit down and rubbing herself on his cock slowly until her thighs start to burn and she whines for Harry to take over.

Now though, with the way he’d teased her all nice, she’s bouncing on his cock properly, using all her strength to pull herself all the way up, then drop back down. She sets a messy pace for herself, but it doesn’t matter. He’s hitting all the right spots in her, and that’s all she care about.

Harry lies on his back in bliss, her pussy absolute heaven around his cock. Her messy pace and high bounces have her tits jiggling, and Harry pushes himself up onto his elbows to get a better view. “Fuck, puppy, you’re an angel.”

He brings a hand down to rub her at her clit, fingers rubbing tight circles as she grinds herself on him. “Gonna cum baby,” he groans, “Are you close?”

She whines out, and nods messily, eyes shut as she keeps herself going.

Harry throws his head back, and shuts his eyes, rubbing her clit faster and faster until she’s cumming, clenching around his cock and squeezing him so tightly. His vision goes white his ears start to ring, and he’s in absolute heaven.

Y/n collapses onto his chest, and he spurts out long streaks of cum into her warm pussy, balls clenching with every release and his hips twitching upwards, trying to get as deep into her as he possibly can. She lays on top of him heavily, breathing hard with rosy cheeks and a glistening forehead from how hard she’d worked to get them both to their end.

He pulls her up for a kiss. What had he even been stressed about, again?

+++

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#harry smut #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry fic #harry writing #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #daddy harry #daddy!harry #daddy!harrystyles #harry styles daddy #dom harry #dom!harry

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miracleonice87 · 1 year

Text

from uncle trav to killa dad

part of the kissing kelce universe

a/n: apparently she writes NFL fic now. no one is shocked. the first installment in the kissing kelce miniseries / universe! sharing the first 3,400ish words of the 8,100ish I already have written... "alright nah" 😈 hope y'all enjoy! (also, will make a masterlist for this universe specifically -- until then just use the "kissing kelce" tag)

warnings: swearing, sickness / vomiting, alcohol, mentions of menstrual cycles / unprotected sex / pregnancy / babies, allusions to not keeping a pregnancy / not being ready to have kids, basically don't read if pregnancy / having kids is triggering for you

word count: ~3,400+

___

February 2023

It was only the end of its second month, but 2023 was already one of the best years of Travis’s life.

First off, this was the first calendar year he had ever begun as your husband, not your boyfriend or your fiancé, which still delighted him to no end, hence why he was constantly referring to you as “Mrs. Kelce,” both publicly and, his favorite, privately. Two weeks ago, he’d won his second Super Bowl after competing against his big brother and best friend, Jason – a literal childhood dream come true. And in one week’s time, he’d be hosting Saturday Night Live. Saturday. Night. Live. As in, “Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night.” As in 30 Rockefeller Plaza. As in who in the fuck was about to let him do that?!

Travis Kelce had the world on a string, you by his side, and he could not ask for more.

Except for you to shake the illness that had been plaguing you for the last several days.

You’d always been an expert napper, but usually for no more than an hour or so; this week you’d been going to bed early, sleeping late, and napping for two or three hours at a time, and Travis was highly concerned. He didn’t like seeing you stub your toe, let alone seeing you struggle with such low energy. He had a growing feeling this was more than just you catching up on your rest after a jam-packed week of team festivities and visitors.

This especially worried him knowing that the two of you needed to leave for New York City first thing tomorrow morning. For a normal event appearance, he’d be moving flights or changing dates, making any adjustments necessary to tend to you and make you as comfortable as possible, but he didn’t exactly have that flexibility with SNL, and he was beginning to panic a bit.

After a Zoom call with his agents and the SNL producers walking Travis through the schedule for his upcoming rehearsal week, he flipped his laptop shut and immediately hustled up the steps to the primary bedroom, where he assumed you must still be sleeping, as he hadn’t heard any movement upstairs during his call – not even that of the dogs, who usually found their way downstairs to him when they heard his voice as he was taking calls.

Your husband couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something was off.

Travis made quick work of striding down the long hallway and sneaking into your bedroom, trying not to make the hardwood floor creak beneath his large frame as he sidled up to your side of the bed. Sure enough, he found both Rambo and Chauncey snuggled at your feet, popping their heads up when he entered the room, clearly on guard and ready to defend their sleeping mama should the need arise. He ruffled their fur upon his approach and made a mental note to reward them with treats for that later, then focused his attention back on you.

Usually, you rested serenely on your back or side, with a single pillow beneath your head; today, you obviously couldn’t get comfortable, because you were curled into the fetal position with an arm flung between two pillows messily folded under your head, another pillow shoved between your chest and your knees. Even in your sleep, your brows were drawn together in discomfort. He hated to wake you, but his intuition was nagging at him to ensure that you were okay. As he slowly lowered himself to the edge of the bed and traced your bottom lip tenderly with his thumb, you stirred, blinking bleary eyes.

“Hey, sweetness,” Travis whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “How’s my girl doin’?”

With his lips still resting against your skin, his hand cradling the back of your head, you groaned. You weren’t one to complain, but whatever this sickness was that you’d been dealing with was kicking your ass, and he knew it.

“Mm, I’ve been better,” you admitted, grasping his forearm with both hands to keep him close, ever comforted by his presence and touch. “It is flu season — must just be some bug going around.”

Travis hummed contemplatively, then broke away to peer down at you carefully.

“Maybe, but if you’re not feeling better by tomorrow, we’re gettin’ you to a doctor, even if it’s in New York,” he announced, gently palming your stomach which had been uncharacteristically sour all day. The warmth of his touch soothed your whole abdomen like a heating pad. “Capisce?”

“Yes, captain,” you muttered, hiding your face in his sizable bicep as he snickered. “I’m due for my period soon so that’s probably not helping either,” you added, a throwaway comment on any other day…

But not today.

Though you couldn’t see it, Travis’s eyes narrowed at that remark, flickering around the room wildly as his mind began to race.

Nah, he mused silently. Couldn’t be.

But it seemed you arrived at the same possibility on your own, because seconds later, you gasped, exclaimed “oh, my fucking god!” and sat up straight, leaning your arms against his thigh for strength as the room seemed to spin around you, the dogs hopping off the bed, annoyed at the interruption of their own naps.

“Travis, what’s today’s date?”

He bit the inside of his cheek. “It’s the 28th, baby,” he said evenly.

And with that, you flung the covers off and ran for the bathroom once again, dropping to your knees on the marble and leaning over the toilet just in time.

As Travis followed closely after you, he knew. He couldn’t believe that, in all of the Super Bowl hype and hysteria, he had missed it up until now. It was so obvious. Your monthly visitor always arrived on the 20th of the month – when you’d asked once how he remembered to bring home Diet Cokes and chocolate-covered pretzels, items you purposely didn’t keep in the house and only indulged in when you were PMSing, on the correct day, month in and month out, Travis often teased that you were so regular, he could set his watch to you.

He hadn’t purchased those items this month, though. Hadn’t even thought of it due to all of the post-win, postseason pandemonium.

And apparently, neither had you.

He hastily did the math. Today was February 28th, which meant that you were now eight days late. His pulse quickened at the realization, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The Chiefs had won the Super Bowl on February 12th, and unsurprisingly, the two of you had taken every single available opportunity since then to celebrate his big win behind closed doors – even if they were occasionally car or coat closet doors. And though the chances of getting you pregnant during that window were not exceedingly high, it was certainly far from impossible – plus, he thought immediately of the many times he had teased his brother Jason about his “super sperm,” having gotten his wife Kylie pregnant every other year since they’d been married. And it was a well-known fact that the two brothers shared many genetic characteristics, including their size and their athleticism.

Maybe this particular trait was no different.

Though you were busy actively being sick, you were doing the same calculations in your head.

Shit. Shit shit shit. You were always so careful, so meticulous, so diligent about timing your intimacy with Travis, taking extra precautions during those prime times and consistently warning him verbally when you were ovulating, as you never wanted him to feel like you were trying to “trap” him, even though you’d now been married for nearly a year. He gently poked fun at you and playfully rolled his eyes in those instances, assuring you that he, first of all, would never question your intentions regarding your relationship and, second, would be absolutely thrilled if and when that time came for the two of you.

But in other conversations, outside the bedroom and the heat of the moment, the two of you had mutually agreed that since you yourself weren’t 100% ready to start a family just yet, you would wait. You respected Travis endlessly for that, because anyone who knew him knew how desperately he longed to become a father. But if you didn’t want that right now, that was the end of the discussion – Travis was adamant that nothing was happening in that department until you made the call.

But these past couple of weeks… there had been so much emotion, so much energy, and so much alcohol involved that admittedly, neither of the two of you had given timing or protection a second thought. All that each of you wanted was the other, and nothing – not the calendar nor visiting parents nor the prospect of arriving late to the celebratory parade nor being in Travis’s Range Rover when the desire arose – was going to keep you apart physically. You’d thrown caution to the wind as you enjoyed being in your little fantasyland bubble together, and now, reality was sinking in.

As you finally finished coughing and sputtering, Travis broke from holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail in order to pour a small cup of mouthwash and offer it to you. You graciously accepted and swished it around generously before flushing it away. As you leaned back from the bowl, he gathered you into his arms with a quiet but firm “come ‘ere.” You both sat on the tile, backs against the glass wall of the shower beside you, and he rested his cheek atop your head, looping his long arms around your waist.

“Better?” Travis inquired simply.

You groaned, eyes falling closed as the now-familiar weariness enveloped you again.

“Yeah…” he answered himself with a sigh, sensing your utter exhaustion.

The two of you sat in wordless contemplation for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, you broke the deafening silence.

“Trav?” you croaked.

“Yeah?”

“I think I need to take a pregnancy test…”

He tipped his head backward against the glass, guilt wracking his every cell.

“I think so, too,” he echoed.

After a long debate on the bathroom floor about how to go about obtaining the home tests – with Travis arguing “you wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for me, so it should really be on me” against your “I’m way less likely to be recognized in the aisle of the drugstore” – you finally reached a compromise, which was to DoorDash a wide variety of tests straight to your door, avoiding the need for either of you to be seen out in public. Kansas City was a larger city with a small town feel, and most of the time, you loved that about your adopted hometown, but today, the prospect of being recognized sent your anxiety into overdrive. Photos of either of you purchasing pregnancy tests being splashed all over social media two weeks after the Super Bowl was truly the last thing you both needed, especially if it turned out to be all for nothing, a false alarm.

So, instead, you had waited the fifteen long minutes until the bag full of tests arrived at your doorstep, peering through the blinds until the driver was completely out of sight before opening the door and retrieving the delivery. You grabbed a Solo cup from the pantry and quickly climbed the steps back up to your bedroom, where you found Travis sitting in a lounge chair, hands folded together, elbows on knees, chin to chest – obviously deep in thought. He didn’t seem to hear you coming until you purposely rustled the plastic bag. As you held it up weakly, his eyes met yours, and he offered a soft smile which seemed forced.

Travis Kelce forcing a smile. A rarity.

“Secured the bag,” you said quietly, attempting to lighten the mood. “Literally.”

He nodded and slowly stood as you extended a hand, which he grasped in his as you headed into the bathroom together. When you reached the counter, you climbed atop it and shook out the contents of the bag, revealing half a dozen boxes of all shapes, sizes, types, and colors; contained in them were sixteen tests in total. You gazed down at them with pursed lips for a few quiet moments, then Travis cleared his throat, causing you to look up at him.

“Honey, before we do this, I just need to…” he swallowed thickly as his hands found the tops of your thighs, and you could tell that whatever he was about to say was weighing painfully heavy on him. You weren’t used to seeing him so serious, and you reached out a hand to rub his shoulder in support. “Listen… you know I’ve always been excited about the prospect of… well, not just having a baby, but having a baby with you, but… it’s really important to me that you know that we do not have to do this. Not now, not ever. Not if you don’t want to.”

The sincerity in his icy blue eyes was enough to make your heart skip a beat, and you hummed appreciatively, cupping his stubbly cheek in your hand.

“Thank you,” you whispered as he turned your wrist to press a featherlight kiss to the inside of it. “And I can’t tell you how much I love you for that. But… one thing at a time, okay? Let me go take care of this, and we’ll go from there.”

Travis nodded, concern etched on his brow. It wasn’t an expression he commonly wore, and it certainly didn’t suit him.

“Yeah… yeah, alright,” he said, sniffing. “You, um, you want me to stay in here with you, or…”

You shook your head, a small smile at play on your lips.

“No, I’ve been peeing on my own since I was about two, so I’ll do that part myself and report back, captain,” you teased, and Travis offered a shy smirk. You rested your forehead against his. “Okay?”

He nodded, head still pressed to yours.

“Okay,” he said, caressing your jaw before standing up straight to allow you to shimmy down from the counter. He took a few steps toward the door leading into the bedroom, then turned back.

“Hey, one more thing?” he said solemnly. You stared at him expectantly. “No matter what the test says… doesn’t change how bad I fuckin’ love you.”

You stood floored, forcing back tears. “I fuckin’ love you so bad,” you softly concurred.

Then, your normal playful Travis was back at least for a moment as he winked at you, clucked his tongue, and pulled the door closed as he encouraged, “Do your thing, girl.”

You rolled your eyes, then “did your thing” as instructed. You returned to the counter with the plastic cup sufficiently full and opened different tests from four of the boxes that looked the most promising, meticulously following the instructions for each. You turned them all so that the windows were face-down on the counter, washed your hands, then took a deep, shaky breath before opening the door with trembling fingers to find a pacing Travis burning a hole through your bedroom floor. You said his name softly, then tilted your head in the direction of the tests, inviting him back into the bathroom with you while you waited. He met you at the edge of the tub, where he wordlessly pulled you into himself and held you there. You closed your eyes and breathed him in, more grateful than ever that you’d chosen this man as your life partner, and that he had chosen you.

“How long we lookin’ at, sweetness?” Travis asked, resting his chin atop your head, gently swaying the two of you back and forth.

“Longest one takes three minutes,” you answered. “Figured we’d just wait until then and check them all at once.”

You felt him nod and check his Apple watch. He grew quiet again for a few moments, then he heaved a sigh.

“I’m sorry for putting you – us – in this position, baby,” he apologized, immediately breaking your heart. “I should’ve been more responsible and mindful in the moment. I just got caught up in you and I… I just, I’m sorry.”

You stood up straight, holding him at arm’s length, your brow creased ruefully as you realized how badly he was beating himself up over this.

“Trav, honey, don’t,” you pleaded. “You did nothing wrong,” you assured, reaching your hand up to rest against his neck. “We both got us into this situation, and to be honest, I wouldn’t change how we got here. We could have been more careful, yeah, but… all I was focused on was being as close to you as possible. I mean, these past couple of weeks with you have been some of the best of my life. I feel closer to you than ever.”

He studied you diligently, rubbing his hands up and down your sides.

“Yeah?”

You nodded, sliding your hand to the nape of his neck and bringing his lips to your level to kiss him softly.

“Yeah,” you whispered in reply.

He drew in a deep breath and squeezed your waist.

“‘Bout ready to check?” he asked timidly.

You nodded, arms falling back to your sides.

“Do it together?” you requested hopefully.

He nodded, too.

“Just like we do everything else,” he replied with conviction, taking your hand in his and pressing a firm kiss to your knuckles. “Let’s go.”

Hand in hand, you approached the counter, four eyes boring into the upside-down test sticks.

“You take two, I take two?” he suggested. You nodded, biting your lip and grasping the two sticks closest to you as he did the same.

“Ready? One…”

“Two…”

“Three…”

Both of you flipped the cheap plastic tests at once, gaping silently down at the counter.

For the past hour since you’d realized you’d missed a period, anxiety, nerves, and even dread had been coursing through your body at the speed of light.

But as soon as you saw those test results, inexplicably, the fear, the worry, the anxiety, the anticipation… it all melted away. The little blue plus sign and the pink double lines and the blinking “YES +” and the word “Pregnant” all laid out in front of you unmistakably brought an unexpected swell of peace and joy to your soul.

Travis’s hand flew to his mouth as he processed the results himself, and his fingers didn’t leave his lips as his eyes stayed fixed on you in quiet anticipation, refusing to react in the way that came naturally to him until he allowed you to react in your own authentic way.

So, when you looked up at him with your chin quivering, eyes rimmed red, tears threatening to spill over at any moment, his heart flipped inside his chest, then sank into his stomach…

But then you smiled.

“Looks like we’re having a Super Bowl baby,” you told him decidedly, starting to giggle.

His brows shot to the top of his forehead, his hand slowly falling away from his mouth.

“Really? You want to?” he asked softly, and you could tell by his tone that he was still focusing all his energy on suppressing his pure, unadulterated excitement. You nodded. “You’re sure this is what you want?” he confirmed, cocking his head as he surveyed you closely. You nodded again and stepped closer so that your feet were planted between his, leaning your body into him.

“I’m sure, Trav,” you promised as he tenderly combed some of your hair behind your ear. “I honestly wasn’t sure until we flipped the tests over, but… I’m sure. I’m ready for this with you, Travis. It feels right. Let’s have a baby.”

At that, he allowed the floodgates to open. His broad shoulders began to wrack with quiet sobs as his arms folded you against his chest. You cried along with him, sharing in his relief, his elation, his bliss.

“I love you so much,” he choked out between shuddering breaths. “Fuck, I love you so much. You’re everything to me. You always have been, but this… this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Thank you.”

You smiled into his pecs, sniffling. “I love you, too,” you replied, pulling away just far enough so that you could meet his eyes. He wiped away your tears with the pads of his thumbs as you continued. “Thank you for the way you handled this. There’s nobody I’d rather do this with than you.”

Travis beamed and leaned in for a kiss, certain that he’d never received a more meaningful compliment, and certain that he had never been more in love with you.

#travis kelce #kissing kelce #my writing #travis kelce fic #travis kelce fanfiction #travis kelce fanfic #nfl fic #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction

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annwrites · 3 months

Text

preacher's daughter. part one.

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: after months of being away from your daddy's church, billy & his family—minus one elusive member—return. he seems somewhat changed, somehow. he's still just as cocky and headstrong as ever, but far more a man than boy now. one thing has remained steadfast, though: him having an unwavering want for you.

— tags: church, preacher's daughter trope, corrupting bad-boy trope, the south

— tw: religion

— word count: 1,112

— a/n: mm, i think i'm excited for this new series.

"Is that Billy Hargrove?"

Your brows furrow as you look over your shoulder, clutching your well-loved Bible more tightly to your chest as you watch the young man in-question stroll through the open front doors of your daddy's church, his step-mom and sister trailing along behind him.

At least he's dressed properly for service today, if nothing else, even if no one has seen him in a pew in months now.

He dons a crisp white button-up, a pair of freshly-starched jeans, and polished biker boots.

You turn abruptly back to Kathy as soon as his piercing blue eyes meet your own, a smirk immediately sliding across his lips at the sight of you dressed in a pure white sundress—small sunflowers printed across it—and a light-yellow cardigan, dainty flats on your feet, your curled hair pulled conservatively out of your face, showing off the small pearl earrings you have pinned to your ears, your small signature cross necklace hanging from your neck, the charm resting between your soft breasts.

He thinks for just a moment about how he'd love nothing more than to have you laid out in the middle aisle, legs spread, praying to God for more than absolution as his rough hands slide up and under that dress as he explores every inch of your innocent body—corrupting you, while you sanctify him with soft touches and silent prayers from your perfect lips.

"He hasn't been to service in months," you say. "Not since his dad disappeared."

She gives you a skeptical look. "I think 'disappeared' is a bit strong of a term to use, Y/N. He probably just...ran off. Hit the road. He and Susan seemed to have been... I don't know. Struggling in their marriage for awhile, it seemed like."

Even you can recall the big blow-up they'd had in the church parking lot some time ago, before Billy had filly stepped in—Neil immediately quieting as Billy stared down at him, words spilling from his lips that you couldn't make out from across the way; the both of them clearly seething—before they all piled into Neil's car, Max crying in the backseat while Billy held her.

You tuck your dress under you, sitting with your legs crossed properly at the ankles as you rest your Bible in your lap, fingers gently gripping the gilded edges.

"Daddy offered them counseling," you whisper.

You pause then, knowing it's not polite to gossip.

You sigh, admiring the new stained-glass window that was recently installed—the shards casting various shades of turquoise, purple, white, and orange across the hardwood floor—before continuing. "I feel sorry for her: that she has to raise the both of them all alone now. But maybe not, since they've finally come back to church... I assume, at least. Either way, all she needs to do is ask for help and we'll give it. You know what the Bible says: love thy neighbor," you state with a smile.

Kathy raises a brow at your pragmatism. Always glass half-full.

"I don't know. Billy doesn't really seem like a kid anymore—much more the type to ever ask for help, or take it," she replies, watching as he rests a muscled arm along the back of the pew he seats himself heavily upon, his eyes finding their way—as always—to you, even if he's only getting to stare at the back of your head for the moment being.

She turns to face toward the front. "Looks like a man to me now."

Your head itches to turn in the other direction then, feeling a pair of eyes on you, but you refrain, continuing to look forward as well as you turn your Bible open to a random book, and you feel a bead of sweat slip down the back of your neck when you see just which one—and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him—to which you quickly slam it back shut.

You blame your sweat on the languid summer heat, which wafts into the church through the open door and windows, settling onto your body like a second skin—the slowly turning over-head fans do little to aid in cooling the space. Your nerves on the one book in the Bible's entirety which has always unsettled you more than any other. And the uncertain feeling which envelops you on any other excuse you can find, except the familiar, yet changed presence, which sits across the way, watching you with an unwavering gaze.

"And that concludes our services for today," your daddy drawls in a deep southern accent.

The soft smile on your lips quickly disappears when you hear a deep voice mutter 'finally' from somewhere behind you.

You turn your head, glancing around, and find Billy already looking at you with a raised brow, just waiting for you to speak up about his comment. Challenging you to do so.

You turn frontward again instead, refusing to respond to his rudeness, which he finds to be predictable.

Church mouse, he thinks snidely.

And after your daddy—the whole of the congregation—had graciously welcomed he and his family back with open arms after such a prolonged absence, at that, you think.

Some people are just truly ungrateful.

You stand quietly beside Kathy as she chats with Timmy, her boyfriend.

"You comin' with us?"

"Oh. I don't know... I'd have to ask daddy."

You hear someone snort from behind you. "You still have to ask him permission for everything? What, haven't put on your big-girl panties yet?"

Billy Hargrove steps around the side of you, coming to lean back against Timmy's S-10. "He still wipe your nose for you, too, sweetheart, or did you finally figure that one out all on your own?"

You glower at him.

"You comin'?" Timmy asks him.

He nods, licking his lips. "Mhm. Just need to get the two of them home first," he says, nodding toward Susan and Max, who stand across the way near his Camaro, chatting. "Then I'll be out."

Kathy looks at you. "Pretty please?"

You shift from one foot to the other, gravel crunching under your shoes, Billy crossing his arms as he watches you.

"I'll go ask," you say quietly, walking away.

Billy shakes his head, watching your dress sway around your thighs. "See preacher's daughter still has that stick up her ass. Guess some things never change," he states, going to head over to his car, Kathy calling after him "don't talk about her like that!".

He pretends not to hear her as he lowers himself into the driver's seat, revving the engine in the hope of pissing you off, before peeling out of the lot.

#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader)#billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

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swappingbryn · 1 year

Text

I Wasn’t Subtle

When I first saw him, he was narcissistic and arrogant. He knew he was hot and he wanted you to notice and admire him. And I did notice and I became obsessed, but can you blame me?

I was obsessed, but I never intended to do anything about it. He was just some TikTok “celebrity” that I followed and I was resigned to have that be the end of it.

However, I recognized the background of one of his newest posts, it was only 10 minutes away, I was the one who installed that hardwood floor in the hotel gym. I remember because I told them how bad of an idea it was to put that floor in a space with heavy objects that would be dropped. I knew I’d never have a chance like this again, I got in my truck and just drove. All the way there I was thinking of reasons to give management of why I had to go into the gym.

But luck was on my side. When I pulled in the garage, he was just standing there posing, oblivious and ignorant of everything around him. I tried to act normal, but once I got close, I attacked. He was younger, bigger, stronger, in much better shape, but I was determined and he was still tired from the gym. After what felt like hours, but was only a few seconds, I was in control.

I went back into the hotel, acting as if I hadn’t just attacked an internet celebrity, stolen their body, and went back to my room. I could feel him inside of me, still fighting but unable to do anything. He was locked away securely, never to escape again.

I got changed and decided to test out my new body. Heading back to the gym, I know he had just completed a long session, but I wanted to try it too. I was able to easily do more sets and reps at higher weights than I ever did in my old life, and even though this body was tired and sore, it felt amazing.

I went back to my room, got changed again, and went out to get food. After two long, arduous gym sessions and a fight for ownership and control of this body, I was starving. I might have been a little sexual with my snap story as I ate, but I knew from experience my followers loved that stuff.

I loved showing off this body, it’s long (hairy) legs, golden hair, prominent bulge, and flaunting the money and influence I now had. That night I continued my exhibition of showing off my body. Maybe not wearing boxers under my bathing suit was a bold choice, maybe wearing a sheer bathing suit that clung to my bulge when wet was a bit over the top, and perhaps showing my ass in posts was slightly (but only SLIGHTLY) out of the ordinary.

But like I said, I was not acting subtle.

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djhardwoodflooring · 1 year

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leighsartworks216 · 5 months

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We'll Figure It Out

Harvey x gn!Farmer

Been really going through it with finals and now that I'm sick and feeling like garbage, this just wanted to come outta me. I'm working on a sweeter one to balance this one out. Not proofread at all

Warnings: hurt/comfort, anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts (not explicit), crying, brief reference to alcoholism, drugs and suicide

Word Count: 1,013

Masterlist

AO3

The farmer grumbled. The blankets were too warm, but the thought of pushing them off and starting the day was even more unpleasant. From the window of Harvey’s room, they could see the sunlight streaming through. But it was too bright, and promised a long day ahead. Again.

They sighed as they shuffled further into the too-warm blankets, pressing their face into their too-warm pillow, grappling with how uncomfortable their too-warm pajamas were. They had to tamp down their emotions so they didn’t frustratedly try ripping it all off at once, no matter how tempting it sounded.

“Honey?”

Two knocks sounded from the door frame. Robin hadn’t bothered to install doors. When it was just them living there in the dingy one-room cabin, it was fine. Now it only served to irritate them as Harvey’s shoes switched from padding on carpet to crossing the hardwood floor of the bedroom.

The edge of the bed sunk down with his weight as he sat down. His hand naturally found its way to their leg, rubbing mindless patterns through the blanket onto their thigh. The familiar scent of coffee reached their nose. No doubt his other hand was occupied with a freshly brewed cup of their farm-grown beans. He always said Gus couldn’t make a cup this good, though you insisted Gus probably used the beans you sold to Pierre to make his own saloon goods.

“What’s wrong? You’re usually up by now.”

He waited patiently as they sighed into their pillow, before turning their head until their mouth was uncovered. “What time is it?” they mumbled.

He glanced at the clock on their side table. “8:30, just about.”

“Hmmph.”

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

They heaved a long, drawn out sigh. “Which Harvey am I talking to?”

His ministrations paused for a moment, before he began rubbing circles against them. “Which would you prefer?”

“... Husband Harvey.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “Can you tell me, as your husband, what’s wrong today?”

Time stretched on. He began to doubt they’d answer at all, or maybe they’d chosen to lapse back into the selective muteness they’d arrived to the valley relying on. He still remembers how shocked he was when they first spoke. By that time, over a year had gone by, and he’d long accepted this stranger as an odd new addition, running into the clinic with jars of pickles and hot coffee before leaving just as soon as they came.

Ever since they’d presented him that bouquet from Pierre’s, they’d opened up more. Some days were harder than others for them to speak, but he never held it against them. Now, though, some bitter part of him wished they’d give his frayed nerves a break. He ignored it in favor of giving them time.

Eventually, they unburied their face and stared across the bed into his room. His radio receiver sat untouched, waiting for a rainy day to be used again. A half-built model airplane rested on the table amidst paint and glue. A book on the floor he kept forgetting to pick up, fallen from his shelf of other miniature models of planes. He wondered what they were looking at, or for.

“I…” They swallowed. They began picking at a string on the corner of their pillowcase. “I wish I hadn’t woken up.”

He hm’d. “Were you having a good dream?”

Their fingers twirled the string around them, tugging futilely on the stubborn fiber. “No, I, um…” They pulled until their fingertips changed color. “I wish I hadn’t woken up, at all…”

Everything in Harvey’s body shot to high alert. Memories of checking teenage patients in Zuzu City who didn’t look him in the eyes as he tried explaining how the stuff they were putting into their bodies was slowly killing them. Adults who’d come in reeking of liquor, claiming they’d only had one or two drinks that week, who scoffed when he tried advising them against drinking. One patient who had already decided what they would do that night, regardless of what he said.

His hand stilled entirely on their leg, tense. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind, all spiraling from bad to worse.

As a husband. As a husband. They don’t want a doctor right now. What would a husband do?

The dip in the bed lifted as he stood. The farmer, his dear farmer, curled in on themself, burying their face in the pillow again. Succumbed to their thoughts. Accepting that he would not help.

They jolted when they felt the bed shift as he crawled in from his side. His shoes were abandoned on the floor, jacket removed and laid over the foot of the bed where their cat liked to sleep. They watched, lost on what to do, as he laid before them, scooched down so he was eye-level despite his height. He brushed a hand over their cheek, knuckles pushing away loose hair and spare dirt from the day before.

He looked them in the eye.

“Talk to me, honey.”

His eyes flickered across their face as they stared at him. A slight tremor in their lower lip, their eyes becoming glossy, the hesitation melting away as they sighed shakily and leaned their head closer to him. He gladly closed the gap, resting their foreheads together. They closed it further, dragging their too-warm body away from the too-warm imprint they’d created last night, wrapping their arms around him, not caring how warm he was against them, just needing him close.

He watched their face crumple as the tears finally flooded to the corners of their eyes. Their body shook with the sob that ripped its way from their throat. He shushed them softly as he pulled away to place a kiss to their temple. They pressed forward into his neck, tucking their head under his chin and finding the bare skin there despite the shirt collar blocking it. He wrapped his arm around their shoulder and supported the back of their neck, keeping them close.

“We’ll figure it out, dear. We’ll figure it out. I promise.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #harvey x reader #harvey x farmer #sdv harvey x reader #sdv harvey x farmer #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley x farmer #sdv harvey #stardew valley harvey #stardew valley #hurt/comfort #depression #anxiety

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beautyandlifestyleblog86 · 11 months

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Ways to practice eco-friendly living in your home

1. Reduce energy consumption:

- Install energy-efficient appliances and LED light bulbs.

- Turn off lights and unplug electronics when not in use.

- Use natural light as much as possible.

- Set your thermostat to a lower temperature in winter and higher in summer.

- Insulate your home properly to reduce heating and cooling needs.

2. Save water:

- Fix any leaks in faucets and toilets promptly.

- Install low-flow showerheads and faucets.

- Collect rainwater for watering plants.

- Only run the dishwasher and washing machine with full loads.

- Use a broom instead of a hose to clean outdoor spaces.

3. Practice waste reduction:

- Recycle paper, plastic, glass, and metal.

- Compost kitchen scraps and yard waste.

- Opt for reusable products instead of disposable ones (e.g., cloth napkins, rechargeable batteries).

- Avoid single-use plastics, such as plastic bags and water bottles.

- Use a reusable shopping bag.

4. Use eco-friendly cleaning products:

- Choose natural, non-toxic cleaning products or make your own using ingredients like vinegar, baking soda, and lemon juice.

- Avoid products containing harmful chemicals that can harm the environment and your health.

5. Grow your own food:

- Plant a garden to grow vegetables, fruits, and herbs.

- Use organic and natural fertilizers instead of synthetic ones.

- Compost food scraps to enrich the soil.

6. Opt for sustainable materials:

- Choose furniture made from sustainable materials like bamboo or reclaimed wood.

- Use eco-friendly flooring options like bamboo, cork, or reclaimed hardwood.

- Select paint and other finishes that have low or no volatile organic compounds (VOCs).

7. Reduce plastic waste in the kitchen:

- Use glass or stainless-steel containers for food storage instead of plastic.

- Replace plastic wrap with beeswax wraps or reusable silicone covers.

- Use refillable water bottles and avoid buying bottled water.

8. Conserve energy in the kitchen:

- Use energy-efficient appliances.

- Cook with lids on pots and pans to retain heat and reduce cooking time.

- Opt for smaller appliances like toaster ovens instead of full-sized ovens when possible.

9. Encourage sustainable transportation:

- Use public transportation, walk, or bike whenever possible.

- Carpool or arrange a car-sharing service with neighbors or colleagues.

- Transition to an electric or hybrid vehicle if feasible.

10. Educate and involve your family:

- Teach your family about the importance of eco-friendly practices and involve them in the decision-making process.

- Encourage everyone to adopt sustainable habits and lead by example.

- Discuss environmental issues and brainstorm new ideas for greener living.

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mattmurdocksscars · 10 months

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Back From The Dead Epilogue

I know you guys waited a long time for this and I'm sorry it's so short. But the good news is, I've left it open for future installments and potentially requests. This won't be the last we see of Sweetheart and Matt, I promise 💖

So, without further ado, here's our temporary goodbye.

Word Count: 841

Pairing: Matt x Mom!Reader

“Matt! Is Michael almost ready?” You called from the kitchen. Matt had been tasked with getting your two year old son ready for his birthday party while you finished getting everything set up. A herculean task given that the toddler had much to say about his outfit choices nowadays.

“Incoming!” Was all you heard before the sound of little feet running across the hardwood floors reached your ears. You had just enough time to turn around before Michael was launching himself into your arms.

“Mama!”

“Hello, my love! Look at you!” You exclaimed. Michael was dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that said “Two Rex” with a T-Rex below the writing. Michael grinned then made a face like he was growling.

“Rawr!”

“That's right, baby. The T-Rex says rawr!” You heard a chuckle coming from your room and smiled, looking up to see Matt walking into the room. He was dressed down for the day, jeans and a simple blue shirt. He walked over to the two of you and wrapped his arms around you both, kissing first your head then Michael's.

“Is he dressed to your satisfaction?” Matt teased.

“Yes, he is. How'd you convince him to wear this shirt. He was so against it this morning.”

“I may have promised him extra cake if he wore it.”

“Matthew!” His deep chuckle rumbled through you as he grinned.

“Come on, it's his birthday. Let him have the extra cake.”

“Alright, but when he's all hopped up on sugar and doesn't want to sleep tonight, that's on you.” You giggled. Your joking was interrupted by a knock on the front door and Michael immediately began wiggling to get down.

“Uncy Foggy! Aunty Karen! Grammy Maggie! They're here!” You laughed as Michael ran for the front door, little hands reaching for the door knob but not quite able to turn it. Matt followed him over and opened the door, letting everyone in with a cheerful greeting. You put the finishing touches on the cupcakes you'd made just as everyone came around the corner.

“Hey! Thanks so much for coming. We really appreciate it.”

Foggy, who was currently holding Michael, shook his head.

“Like we'd miss this little guy's birthday for anything!”

Everyone nodded their agreement and you and Matt smiled, glad for the little family the two of you had. It hadn't been easy, raising a baby, but the help you'd gotten from the three individuals in the room had been absolutely critical in the two of you making it through.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you guided everyone back into the living room where you all began to play and spend time focusing on Michael. The day passed by in a whirlwind of fun and before you knew it, everyone was heading home and you were putting a worn out toddler to bed.

Heading to the kitchen, you quietly called out to Matt.

“I think I'm gonna have a glass of wine, do you want anything?” You were just reaching for the glass when arms wrapped around your middle and a warm body pressed against your back. Matt settled his head on yours and began to sway the two of you back and forth.

“I don't think that's a good idea.” Your brows furrowed and you lowered your hand.

“Why's that?” You could feel his face shift and you assumed he was grinning. His hands shifted so one was on your hip and the other rested on your lower belly.

“We're pregnant.” He breathed out. You froze, eyes going wide with shock. “You'll need to take a test to be sure but… I'd recognize that sound anywhere.”

“Oh my God, Matt…” You felt tears well up, your hands coming up to cover your mouth. Anyone else would assume you were panicking but Matt, knowing you so well and knowing your body, knew you were excited.

“Oops again?” He said, with a small laugh. It brought out your own laughter and soon the two of you were giggling like crazy. It took a few minutes for the two of you to calm down. You wiped your eyes.

“Oh, Matt. I'll get a test tomorrow and we'll check but I trust your ears. I can't believe it. How long have you known?”

“Just a couple of days. I wasn't sure at first but then we were laying together the other night and I had my head on your stomach. It was pretty obvious then.”

“Why'd you wait to say something?”

“I wanted to wait until after Michael's party. In case you reacted differently.” You hummed and nodded. That was fair. If you had reacted badly, it would have affected Michael's party and that wouldn't have been fair to the child.

You turned in Matt's arms and faced him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“A lot of things are gonna change. You and I are gonna be evenly matched. Are you ready for this?” You asked him.

“Sweetheart, with you by my side, I am ready for anything.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x mom!reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x fem!reader #back from the dead

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plasticfangtastic · 1 year

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American Royalty. Ch. 4

A Homelander X F! Reader and Dadlander fanfic.

A/N: if ya like to be taglisted plz leave a comment to be notified on the next release. got the writers block and too many wips so here is an early chapter. hope y'all like it. plz check my pin post for prev. chapters.

Tags: mild gore, angst, lots of angst, slow burn, fluff, oc characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance.

Chapter Four

Seeing Stars

You had him agree to you working three days as his personal chef, and he couldn’t have you Sundays no matter how much he asked.

Within the week you had gotten a letter from your bank telling you that the pending investigation on your account had been closed and now you could access it, it had even accrue significant interest after being untouched for seven years it was better than an early christmas miracle as you sobbed in your bedroom with the letter in hand, you cried in the kitchen after calling a realtor to see an apartment, by the time you seen a couple of apartments you had come home to find an enveloped taped to your door. Inside paperwork and some keys– seeing red for a moment, but as Helena tugged at your shirt, your anger tucked itself away, you held her crying into her shoulder as you finished reading the letter.

Before the month ended, you had moved into a large, renovated and well located 2 bedroom, 1 office, 2 bathrooms apartment in the ground floor of a duplex, it had to be at least eighteen to twenty thousand dollars in rent but he had simply purchase it– writing in his letter that he wouldn’t allow you to continue raising his daughter in the projects or some refurbished new york closet, he had even collected information on local schools in your new neighborhood for you consider, informing you that he would take care of tuition cost.

As you settled in a space so big you had nothing to fill it with, as you watched your daughter actually behave like a seven year old for once, you laid on the floor by the open concept kitchen, feeling the rich wood underneath your skin, staring at the black granite benches and hardwood cabinetry– the floor was even heated! You heard a landing in one of the two thin yards, you knew your daughter was exploring the bathroom, so it felt safe to do this now.

“I’ll have my interior designer come by this week to help you select furniture and stuff.” He said upon entering, distubed by how barren it was, all your belonings in a a dozen boxes total, tucked in a corner of the living room.

“You are a bastard making me indebted to you.” You grumbled.

“I can’t have her live in a broom closet infested with rats. Kids need yards and space.” He looked at the cherry wood panels lining the outdoors, the vines and trees growing in a decent sized yard, extra big by New York standards– you could get her a puppy, a kitten or…?”

“She likes fish.”

“I could have a pond installed.” he said with a smirk crainign his back as he tried to look less imposing as you refused to lift your head from the heated hardwoods– you should be okay with utility bills, I left them on credit for your convenience. Have you had a chance to look at schools?”

“What are you actually planning, John.” You sat back up, switching names had taken him off-guard wondering what angle you were going at him from– haven’t even started work with you and now you are showering me with presents? This is beyond just wanting to see your kid is not like you actually seen her.”

“You said to take things slow.” He didn’t try hiding that devious grin– Ryan… needs a story.”

“Jesus Christ you are sick.” you now had to stand up for real– you want me to play mom to your kid? I don’t even look like him.”

“Genetics are weird. Helena looks like you and Ryan looks like me, like those dogs from ‘Beauty and the Tramp’."He touched your cheek with a bare hand– Can’t wait to see you next Thursday, mom.”

“Oh god…” You chuckle, losing your mind as his hand hurts without a scratch– How are you going to tell this to Helena?”

“Is in early development but the team will take care of it. I need Ryan to attend the same school as Helena so please hurry up.”

He left not before telling you to take Helena to MOMA this saturday at 2 pm, it wasn’t a suggestion or invitation, it was an order

You did as you were told that evening, one of the best schools in the city was under a half hour walk from this cell, knowing Helena had to be enrolled soon didn’t help, and your commute to Lucci had increased but now you could pay for gas and not cry. Sending him a texts about schools to the number he had given you in his many many notes seemed anticlimactic but that was it.

Helana had grown suspicious, but she played dumb and you knew it too, so you both played stupid when you headed to MOMA that weekend.

You just casually came the same day and the same time as Homelander and Ryan were about to have the whole museum closed off as they received a private tour, but he asked you to join them not giving any real explanation for why but nobody questioned, neither kid spoke to each other much if any, Helena simply enjoying the silence, she looked at you as she asked about the pieces but it was Homelander who had the most to say about the works, leaving you left out but happy, you knew that face of his so well, to see it on your daughter’s face made your day.

He had taken the opportunity to discuss your employment not your relationship, giving you list of things Ryan should eat, would not eat, wanted to try and things he wanted to try himself, then your hours and some odd request about handling Ryan’s school lunches being instagram worthy, handing you socials to research for such task.

You started work that following week, the Vought kitchens were top of the line, your job was to meet all of his requirements, some of the chefs that recognized you looked at you with relief and curiosity, wanting to know what had happened to you but you were unwilling to share. That first breakfast was returned with clean plates, even the waiter was shocked when he saw empty plates come out of his penthouse.

It had been so long since you could play with such new equipment, this was it, this was the place you belong in, him or not involved this was your happy place now.

Two weeks had passed.

As you headed for the staff elevator you met Homelander, who had honestly just been waiting for you.

“I got the paperwork sorted… you just have to sign and fill stuff. Nice school! Great stem program not that Helena will find it hard.” he said politely, his posture extra stiff.

“Did you do a background check on her?” you looked around for witnesses.

“Hard not to. Our kid is the captain of the math club… her school team has won most of the math competitions in the last four years. Not to mention the piano recitals, and science competitions” He looked so proud– her grades are perfect. She might be the smartest little girl in the city.”

“She’s the smartest little girl in the world.”

“And her new school would let the whole world know just that.” He said matching your smug.

You watched him carefully waiting for him to spit out what he wanted to say, either about her schooling or something else.

Helena was allowed to continue attending her old school until you were ready for transfer, he had only briefly talked to you for school discussions, and with great disinterest on what made each school good or not, if anything you found yourself doing this for his son as well, thinking of what this school would do for his well being, and if it was the best choice for a homeschooled kid, and how would this new school commute affect Helena’s after school routine.

On the days you didn’t work in Vought’s towers she was still babysat or stayed at Lucci’s, she was too young to be left at home, even if you knew she was perfectly safe, but no matter what she was still little.

During the days you worked in the tower she was kept in the company daycare in the 20th floor, most of the kids there were normal but there was at least one other super-abled child her age, it made you happy to see her interact with a similar kid even if said kid abilities involved phasing thru objects all willy-nilly and make objects phase thru other objects, making you worry of what would happen if he lost focus and Helena got caught inside a wall.

“By the way our kid escaped the daycare.” He held the elevator open for you as he entered, before you could panic he shot you a charming smile– is okay she’s at the gym…”

Your eyes had welled up regardless, you jumped into the metal box pressing the bottom frantically.

“She’s perfectly safe… A-Train is there and so it's that… Noir… her and the only little Supe kid decided to do some mischief, but I kept my ears on her all day.”

Forcing yourself to take deep breaths as the elevator smoothly traveled to the lower floors.

“Is it not her that I am worried for.” you said firmly.

You followed him as he guided you through an unfamiliar floor, inside the large colosseum gym that had been fitted to test somebody’s athletic skills you found your daughter floating in her wavy bubble, but all you saw was your kid swaying in the air.

“Helena get down here immediately!!!” You ran after her reaching for the kid as her bored expression was replaced with embarrassment as she descended into your arms– you cannot run away from daycare!”

“I don’t want to be surrounded by babies.”

“Helena you are a baby!” you squeezed her against yourself, just glad she was still in one piece, you noticed the other small kid in the room– jesus…”

Carrying your kid you reached for the other one, taking his hand.

“Hey sweetie… let me take you back to daycare before your mommy or daddy gets worried.

“Am I in trouble?” he asked meekly.

“No, but Helena is so grounded.”

“Mom!”

“Don’t mom me! You have any idea how dangerous that was!”

“Oh don’t get mad at the kid, she was just acting like a kid. Don’t be such a buzzkill” he mocked you.

“I don’t want or need your opinion– now you got two seconds to explain yourself!”

You began to gently drag yourself and your kid’s victim out of the gym, A-Train absolutely shocked to see anybody talk to Homelander like that.

“Look I had A-Train and Noir come check them out, they were safe!” He chased after you.

“Oh that was your doing.” Helena said– "I really wanted to meet A-Train” she waved innocently at the Supe, who returned the gesture as a true professional– and... Mom… I wanted to see the building, that’s all… sorry I used Elmo to escape… but his powers were just too useful”

“You cannot use people like that.” you said in shock.

“People like being used.” Her words were just cold as she wriggled herself out of your arms, falling without touching the ground, she took Elmo’s hand taking the small kid towards the exit– some people are born serfs.” She mumbled to herself.

Homelander's heart beat violently– oh his daughter was a brat and had a questionable attitude, he hadn’t even interacted much with her, but he was proud. His whole body went light and his smile couldn’t be contained as he saw the small girl with true love in his eyes, this was the moment he saw her as truly his own.

Ryan was still reluctant to accept his father’s philosophy, but this little one understood that she was born better from the start on her own.

She turned around to face you again, little Elmo sucked on his thumb as her eyes glowed pale blue.

“Is it alright if I come to the training gym if I ask permission first?”

“I…”

“Of course all Supe’s should know to keep their powers top notch. You are more than welcome to use the facilities.” Homelander had cut you off, petting the little girl’s head as he approached the duo– Just ask your mother so she doesn’t have a heart attack. Then again this is one of the safest places in all of New York and little Helena over here is perfectly safe, after all I am here.” He said while staring at you.

His voice was sweet, you were defeated as Helena tried to contain that cheshire grin of hers while staring at you– he was your boss , and the Homelander so could you really go against him so publicly?

“You had a terrorist attack in this building… but I guess…” She ignored him again then looked straight at you– I learned something new today.”

A-Train and Noir exchanged concerned looks taking a few step backs, Homelander seemed intrigued to watch your reaction, you gave way, unable to speak, just frustrated as your ex looked just as smug as his kid.

Little Elmo scoot behind her– in the round gymnasium a cement boulder hanged in chains, her eyes glowed the brightest you’ve ever seen, lifting her hand with one quick swipe the boulder broke in half, the dust showing the invisible blade bending light, it gain a blue color as it was touched before fading, she looked so proud of herself, you stared at Homelander and now you understood why nobody had informed you that your daughter was missing. It didn’t sit well with you.

“you’re still grounded for a whole week.”

“But Mom!!”

You had walked into a trap, one you did so willingly, jailed in a nice house, any hope of Homelander being driven away or losing interest in her was gone as he looked at her with pure adoration in his eyes.

You got used to it… this prison was lovely, it was nice to come back to a spacious cell. Homelander had indeed brought his decorator to your house but you didn’t want designer furniture and high end stuff, you kept it simple and cheap, most of your stuff second hand and from Ikea, only relenting to agree with the poor designer over the kitchen, his budget was absurd for the task, only taking advantage to purchase all the appliances of your dreams, you indeed needed a air fryer that matched your splashback.

Helena was happy to have a room that felt like a bedroom, large bookcases that could be filled with her own books, a small courtyard facing her doors, where she now could sit down and read with the breeze in her hair. She seemed happy, euphoric when she began her new school, making you forget what was happening in the background at times.

Homelander would come from time to time to speak to you about mundane stuff and work, his patience saintly as he allowed you to get used to his company once more, just so you could be okay with him entering her life, but then again he was your jailer.

He himself had begun forcing himself into her life when you weren’t around, it was all a matter of timing and perception.

Homelander watched the daycare center, from afar, a much needed service, it occupied a whole floor, the tower employed thousands of people in its 99th floor so there had to be help for those mothers and fathers who needed to work but had children with no babysitters, it was one of the many appealing things about being employed by Vought, and the center offered a variety of activities for all age groups.

Helena saw it as a jungle, all these children just a bunch of savages, keeping Elmo around not because she liked his company but because he was the only other Supe child in her age group, he was a sweet kid, afraid of bugs and that liked to talk about cartoons, frankly it was a challenge to figure out what to do with him. Homelander watched as she taught the kid to play chess, taking hours to explain the basics as the seven year old had very little clue what was happening, but in its own way it was nice to talk to another kid like himself.

Homelander even bothered to do a background check on the child– both of his dad’s both worked at Vought one in hero management and the other in marketing, both very busy bees it seems… he had done the same with all of Ryan’s new classmates, he knew their entire families before his kid even stepped foot and said hello to any of them, all done before he started school the same week as Helena– there was the big issue of her being on the 10th grade while her older brother just began the 6th grade, so he couldn’t enjoy seeing the both of them interacting, it was hard to witness for he wanted both kids to become closer so desperately.

Hence why he was standing on the foyer of the daycare center, a young lady that looked too cheerful for her own good, welcomed Homelander.

“Hi! How can I help you today, Homelander? Are you looking to enroll little Ryan?” She swayed side to side trying to see if the kid was behind him by any chance.

“Actually… am here to speak to one of the kids… hmm… Helena L/N.” He said with a firm tone– I believe her mother left a message.”

Homelander texted you an hour before cominf down, not even asking you that he was going to take her for training, you were stuck in the kitchen helping with some work function taking place tonite, a thousand canapes had to be made and you were stuck with the pistachio and lemon layer cakes.

You had no time to argue, taking your precious break time to make phone calls and try not to use your knife on the nearest asshole who pissed you off afterwards.

She hopped on the desk seeking for any notes, and he was indeed correct.

Now he had her all for himself, you prayed he wasn’t going to drop the news on her, but you couldn’t leave and abandoned your team, she was safe, you had to believe she was safe, she was smart, she was so smart and she could escape him, you just had to trust her.

“Can I bring Elmo?” Helena looked up at Homelander, a slight ache building on her neck as she looked up at the man– he might get lonely.”

“He’s not a dog.” He didn’t even try putting on a soft babied voice with her– and I wanted to talk to you.”

“But he’s always ‘The Dog’ when we play house.” She faked the most innocent voice she could muster, turning around to look at the glass doors dividing the friends– … He will probably sneak out to the gym if he gets lonely, they got his favorite snacks today… he told me liked five times and I think they’re playing Bluey on the tv.”

“Oh! and you play mommy?” He grimaces so hard his eyebrows touch.

“No, the robber.”

He led the way and she was more than happy to explore the building as they headed downstairs.

“What do you think of them?”

“Elaborate.”

“Those without powers.” she wished she could see his expression– and be honest. None of this ‘Wednesday Addams’ crap.”

He looked around at the sea of smart casual fits and stress on the floors above, the world moving so fast paced, nothing but monkeys hurling shiny rocks while playing dress-up.

“They can be useful, if they are not… then they don’t matter to me.”

He smiled, his heart fluttering and his stomach filled with butterflies as he heard her speak– why did Ryan struggle so much to understand this? He thought.

“When you are born with such gifts–

“I might be a kid but I am very familiar with your Compound V, I already had this talk with my mother. Fascinating stuff… I am still trying to understand the whole dosage thing… How does your company decide which kid to give more versus others? Did they just look at who could provide the best backstory before deciding between 10 mils versus the whole vial.”

She stared at the glass walls where the kids were housed, the tone of her voice still flat.

“Why you say that?”

“I’m a poor kid from the projects, with a single mom, formerly homeless and now with enough powers to make Athena envious. Not to mention how 92% of supes are white but the percentage below middle class to poor is almost the same as with the 6% blacks, while the percentage of upper class white supes is closer to the same percentage of 2% asians and latino supes… if anything a good chunk of latino and asian supes are upper class… something-something model minority yadah-yadah.” she pressed the elevator door– I’d make a good story. Shame that I can’t be a Supe.”

Homelander stared at her, placing his hand on the back of her head.

“You can be anything you want, Helena. You have been blessed beyond belief with powers… if you want to be Supe then you are ready for major leagues.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Only the 1% of superheroes ever make it to the major leagues, most supes never achieve anything beside D-list status and everybody is fighting for the crumbs left behind by your posse of clowns– is not a fiscally responsible decision. A career that can only exist on extreme gambling is not one that can make money. Not to mention am not cute or tall." She took the first step into the elevator– I never want my mother to worry about money. I want to buy her a mansion on top of a cliff staring at the ocean, have a dozen maids care for the house and she can just spend the rest of her life in luxury”

She turns to see him crossing her arms with a serious look on her tiny face.

“My goal is to take your job.”

“The Seven?” He grinned.

“Vought.”

“I can wait to see you try.” he grinned.

“It won’t be that hard… At least when I am in charge security will be tighter.”

Bottles of V dropped from above Homelander’s head, he caught most of them but a few were lost, those were hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of drops staining his pants and shoes, Helena caught one bottle, sliding it between nimble fingers back and forth.

“Don’t look so surprised, it seems this is a common occurence… Here's an unwanted tip: use biometrics and only allow lab techs to enter the 67th floor, not just rely on good will, clown.” sections of her body and clothes flicked back and forth between visible and invisible, taunting him about how easy it had been to steal them using her superpowers.

As his eyes took an extra tinge of red, he saw a brief flash of pale blue encasing her, he followed her to the entrance of the Gym, where she expected to be left alone with Homelander not to find another kid.

“The prodigal son.” she mumbles.

Ryan sat on top of some raised stepping stones in the recently established obstacle course, Helena imagined she needed to know parkour in lieu of flying abilities, which seemed redundant for the kid who could fly.

“Thought you two could practice together.” He shouted while placing the V on the nearest bench.

“Guess there are ways to successfully murder a child and get away with it.” She raised an eyebrow– and here I thought you wouldn’t be irked by the words of a little girl… like I said you’re a maladjusted person.”

“I don’t hurt children. I have no idea…” he said calmly while a little bit angry, as he returned to her side.

“I dunno– it would look really bad if the press found out that you’re a deadbeat.”

His expression dropped as the little girl's eyes glowed.

“Smartest little girl in the world… or...?” She said dryly, as she headed towards Ryan to save him the walk– my bubble refracts light, easy to spot if you notice images are wavering without the heat.”

The little boy ran cheerfully after his father, who for the first time ignored him, his eyes transfixed on the little girl, who had been playing stupid all along.

taglist-- @fromforeigntofamiliarity , @demodemo909 and @immyowndefender

here's the house:

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander x f!reader #the boys oc #homelander fanfiction #personal #my fic tag #my writers block is criminal but thx god i had this chapter and 2 more ready #new york city rentals are fucking insane y'all paying too much-- had to look at them for reference for this fic so am more than glad to pos #a link to the 18K a month house that homelander bought for you dear reader #btw am living in australia so i might not know how yall pay utilities over there #took inspo from the diabolical first ep where they ahd an adoption centre as one of the floors of the tower to make the daycare #american royalty

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