#might just have to trickle them for today and hope that the rest of the days and going forward is better.

[hazelplaysgames]

unnecessary flaunting at the end is a must.

[whumpitisthen]

Too Much

alt.: How to Break a Defiant Whumpee 101, cws in tags!

When the lock clicks and the door opens once again, the foreboding light cascades down in the form of a person's shadow onto him and he cannot hold in a moan of distress.

He jerks his hands down against the cold floor in helpless, terrified frustration. His blood trickles from under the thick cable wire tying his wrists tightly together, collecting in a puddle with the rest of his spilled life force on the floor. Those cuts barely had time to close over, now torn open again. It cannot have been more than a couple hours since the last visit; what had he done to incur this unbearable punishment today? Who did he piss off this bad?

He listens to the familiar, heavy footsteps nearing him, hoping desperately that they aren't here for him. Unfortunately, those steel-toed boots enter his vision and do not leave, slowing to a stop right in front of his cell, peeking through the bars curiously. He wishes that just once, they would walk right past him; that he would be ignored and left alone. Alas, today has not been the luckiest.

"Oh, just look at you. Always such a sight for sore eyes."

"F-Fuck off."

Leaning up against the cell door, they trail their eyes along every inch of his skin. Of all his captors, this one might just be the worst, if only for their creepy fucking mannerisms. It's hard to forget about those intense, dark eyes and that impossibly smooth, gross voice that makes his skin crawl and keeps him company even in his nightmares. Among all the other things he was hoping for just a moment ago, not having to see them today was quite high up on his list.

They click their tongue. — "You still have your tongue then. Could've fooled me. You look awful."

Their grin made the insult sound more like a twisted compliment. He forces out another weak reply. — "Wow. Thanks."

They pause, tapping their index finger against one metal bar. They are just standing there, staring at him. Their expression is infuriatingly pleasant.

He fucking hates this. Why couldn't they just leave him alone today? Why does he have to be looking up at this terrifying motherfucker from the coldest, most uncomfortable corner of his cell, already exhausted, beaten halfway to death, and be forced to go through yet another round of pain? This just isn't fair.

They take a deep, content sigh, seemingly done with their sightseeing. — "Right."

They back up to stretch, then fit the key into the cell door, promptly sliding inside once it's open. His foreseeable future has swiftly become his near future, and he is anything but ready for it to become his present.

"W-Wait, wait, don't come in, you can't be ser— "

"How could I not when you look so lonely, cuddled up to the wall all by yourself?" — they sing, watching him struggle to push himself further into the corner he was left in by the one before them. From this close, it's even more apparent how rough he had it lately.

If the numerous black-purple pools of blood under his skin weren't enough, the fresh pool by his hand and the splatter of red across the walls would make it more than obvious. Everywhere they look they find another cut, another bruise, another mark and slash and burn. The ever present rings around his wrists are deeper, and now a new one resides around his throat like a collar. His eyes are dark and crimson, looking at them like he might just burst into tears.

He pushes his back into the wall with a cry. A new desperation has morphed his voice into something truly delicious. — "Just, leave, leave me alone!"

They smile innocently. — "Oh, should I? I'll consider it."

"No, stop, please — !" — his throat rasps and breaks his words, but that is nothing new. What is new, however, is the begging. This one has to be forced to beg usually, and now here he is, already close to sobbing for them to just let him be before they could even set a hand on him.

With something between a groan and a whimper, he twists his body to be hidden, curling up to the side and squeezing his eyes shut as he cowers, shaking, shielding his face with bound hands before they could even reach him. He looks utterly pathetic, and that melts their heart — but then they notice something truly surprising, something deviously intriguing.

"Don't tell me... Baby, are you crying? Already?" — They do not even try to hide the grin in their voice as they kneel in front of him. He only curls up tighter, sniffling. — "Now you're starting to worry me. This is very unlike you. I expect insults and swearing, not weeping."

He doesn't respond with anything but a huff of air. They try to peer behind those twitching fingers — a couple of them are definitely broken — but their curiosity isn't sated. The thought of finally having broken him crosses their mind. — "What happened?"

Their question goes unanswered. This guessing game is already starting to irritate them.

They take a light hold of one of those fractured fingers, leering; only a threat for now. — "You know I prefer screams to silence."

"Don't," — he half-wheezes.

"Talk to me then. What's troubling you, sweetheart?" — they cut him off entirely, cooing like they aren't the very reason he's like this.

"I'm... I'm scared."

"I can tell."

"I just — please, I-I just —"

They say nothing. He swallows dryly.

"I just don't want to be hurt again," — he whispers miserably, — "I can't, again, I can't — "

They still don't say anything. They still hold onto that damn finger. He almost wishes they would just get on with the torture instead of whatever this is.

"What, what do you want from me? Just fucking leave! Please!" — he yells, pleads, loses his mind a little more. — "Are you blind? Do you seriously want me to explain to you why I'm, why I'm having a-, a fucking meltdown?"

"I've barely had a, a single minute to myself today where I didn't have to en-entertain any of you pricks, and when I think it's finally over, when, when I get just a second, a m-, a moment to breathe," — he takes a strained couple inhales, almost hyperventilating before harshly gulping down his anxiety again, fighting sobs, — "y-you fucking show up. Like you always do. And, and now I'm here, yet again, left on the floor tired and, and hurt and bleeding — and you're, you're — it always g—, it never gets better. It never f-fffucking stops."

Nothing more is said for a while. They just watch him cry in his little corner coated in fresh blood, breaking apart in front of them. This is an incredible, rare sight. An important moment. They see a precious opportunity and they simply cannot resist seizing it.

They let go of his hand, gently laying their palm on his head instead. The gasp and the flinch are wonderfully unexpected, yet so beautiful to see. — "How many of us came today?" — they inquire softly, almost genuine.

His fragile throat lets out the most raw, wretched sounds they have ever heard him make. — "Y-You were the only one who hasn't. Eh-everyone and their mother came to visit me. I was really fucking hoping you wouldn't."

Ah. The others all took turns today, huh. They did a fine job at whittling him down. They don't even know how all of them managed to get their round in in such a short period of time.

"All five of us?"

"Yeah," — he mumbles. He's furiously wiping at his eyes, starting to lose all hope of getting any rest now that they are this close, and clearly not leaving any time soon. He hoped this embarrassing outbreak would at least deter them somehow, but none of his hopes today came true. They aren't exactly a bleeding heart who would change their mind about torturing him just because he's a little sad. If anything, he thinks, being this pathetic might have just spurred them on. — "But it doesn't, doesn't matter, does it? You sadistic freaks don't care about anything but, but beating the shit out of me any chance you get. I don't know why I thought that you of all people would understand."

This is perfect.

They lean in close. — "Me of all people? What's that supposed to mean? Am I special?"

"Especially annoying." — Now that's more like him. Retorts and insults flying out of his mouth like bullets. They really wish they could have him confess that he finds them the most intimidating out of everyone, that the ‘annoyance’, as he put it, comes from the fact that his backtalk doesn't have any effect on them, and that they know him on a deeper level than any of the others and that scares him more than anything — but they recognise when the moment allows for a play like that. He's already building up his walls again; they can't let this moment slip through their fingers.

"Mmm. Well, I have a proposal for you." — They dig their fingers under his great mess of locks, not unkind. — "Look at me."

"That's not a proposal."

"I'll tell you once you look at me."

"No."

They sink their hand in deeper, twisting into his hair like the claws of a beast. — "Come on. Don't you want to hear it?"

He only lifts his hands higher to hide behind, now muffling his tone. — "I know that, th-that you only want to see me cry."

They smile. — "Yes. And I know you want to avoid more pain."

This thinly veiled threat does two things: it pisses him off, and it brings back that foolish hope that they will take mercy on him if he behaves as they like.

Just one more push. A soft, light order. — "Look at me, baby."

Ordinarily, this would never work. He might even laugh in their face or spit at them for asking, especially so sweetly. This time, however, he is just a lonely, sad little guy in a cell, desperate for sweetness. They wait patiently. He shudders uncomfortably, snivelling.

Silently, with a deadly glare, he finally looks at them.

His eyes are red, puffy, and so, so tired. His lips are bitten bloody, cracked, pouting. The scar over his right cheek has been reopened, enlarged to run down the side of his neck. A gorgeous purple bruise has nestled under his left eye, running like paint in water across his skin. His tears drew clean streaks along his face, sliding down the length of his neck. It's beautiful, mesmerising. They are mesmerised for a little too long, though.

"I hate you so fucking much, you're so gross," — he hisses, done watching their eyes rake over him like an object while having the most adoring, fond smile doing so. It always sends a shiver down his spine when they do this, and having them be so close just makes it even more unbearable. He can clearly see their eyes refocus and return to make eye contact at his remark and it makes him nauseous.

It's fascinating how little bite his voice holds now, with the tears still flowing freely and his throat closed up. So many thoughts of torment run through their mind, images of taking advantage of this weakened state he is in and breaking him until there is nothing left, until he is like this all the time; crying and pitiful and obedient and lovely. None of that makes it to the surface.

"My proposal is this;" — they say instead, — "we could go on with what I had planned for today. This option includes this high voltage shock collar I brought with me."

As they turn to get the collar he assumes they must be bluffing, but horrifyingly enough, they turn back with a thick, black loop of leather with a box attached to it and a remote in their other hand, grinning excitedly. He remains silent in shock.

"Or," — they say after a pause to let him simmer in anticipation, setting their toy to the side, — "we could forget about that for now, and let you rest instead. How does that sound?"

He can barely believe his ears. They actually care? This is a trick, it must be.

"You're lying." — His splotchy face must have betrayed his bewilderment, because they murmur a chuckle before they respond.

"I am not. I can tell you are in a lot of pain."

They take a gamble as they take his head into their hand gingerly, turning him towards them by one shoulder and one cheek carefully, fully expecting him to struggle. There is resistance, as always, but quieter, just a small weight put behind pulling them forward which might as well just be his tired body refusing to cooperate. He says nothing. His lip wobbles. His expression is less cutting than usual, the edge replaced by worn flesh and agony.

They make an effort to remove all malice from their eyes, looking at him with sympathy and love instead. They give him exactly what he has been craving for the weeks he has been trapped here. Someone who can tell him they know he has been trying his best.

They look right into his eyes empathically, and sadly sigh; — "You're just tired, aren't you?"

Those are the magic words to open the gates to his true anguish. Something about this awfully simple, assuring sentence whispered so knowingly — it breaks something in him, and his eyes fill with fresh tears, and he cannot help the sobs bubbling to the surface. Because it is that simple, isn't it? He is so, so damn tired. All he wants is some rest. The assurance that someone sees him struggling, and understands how badly he hurts, and how little he really asks for. Coming from his torturer, it should not feel so liberating. But he is far past rationalism, his want for a single kind gesture has long become a burning need he would do anything for in this moment.

He may regret it later, but for now he leans into their hand as he lets every sob he ever swallowed down free, letting them see how broken he truly is already. From under all that grit and animosity comes pure childlike, innocent suffering, so potent he doesn't know what to do with it besides letting it envelop him. Just the right opportunity and a couple pokes, and he has crumbled under all this weight.

They lead him closer, pulling him out of his defensive position against the wall slowly to embrace him. He is all but powerless to stop his fragile form from moulding under their touch, gasping wretchedly in their arms. He is shivering like a leaf. It's intoxicating.

There they remain until his sobs weaken, and his exhausted body slumps against them like dead weight. Somewhere along the line they had let themself slide down to the ground, inviting him to lie on something soft for the first time in forever, even if it is only their own body. The floor isn't exactly clean — it's quite disgusting in fact — but it is well worth it to have this ball of resentment tamed for even a small bit, even if they have to lie on filth for it. This one instance of kindness will have lasting effects on their relationship and him as a person, even if he doesn't realise it, or even if he does. He will find it hard to look at them the same way, and will find it difficult to keep up his defiance in front of them when he knows they have seen him truly at his wits end.

He may let them touch him more often without a word. He may find it easier to do as they say without fighting. He may grow more attached to them through this, having a closer connection to them than to any of the others. He may even ask them again, once the time comes, to have mercy on him again, and they will give it to him, letting him fall deeper and deeper. He will have to swallow his pride, and he will only swallow it for them. This small moment will be crucial in the future. Maybe they could capitalise just a little more on this by telling the others they can't see him for a day. They will visit him tomorrow and ease his mind again, let him heal, see how he acts after this humiliating exchange.

The unconscious man in their arms will learn to be theirs with time; he has already made so much progress. This one is theirs, just as soon as it becomes too much to bear again.

...

He didn't even yell at them for calling him baby.

~

Taglist: @morning-star-whump

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

[fairytsuk1]

bachata baby | (s)

apart of the meet cute: gone wrong series, click here for more!

pairing: shigaraki tomura x reader

words: 8.7k

prompt: "getting paired up at a dance class"

warnings: enemies to lovers, cunnilingus, dom!shigaraki, sensual dancing, tit play, fingering, hand kink, doggystyle, protected sex, alcohol, frat party, complicated relationship

  You’d absolutely lost the class registration lottery. After days, even weeks of agonizing over what classes filled which requirements and yet still gave you enough wiggle room to have your off days, you were exhausted. Everything was planned to a tee, and your dismayed face was evident as you told your roommate the dreadful news.

“I have to take a dance class! A partner dancing class! I might as well drop out,” you cry forlornly, looking at Nejire’s baby blue rug in frustration.

“It can’t be that bad! I mean, at least the professor’s good, right? Nemuri Kayama, I think. She’s one of the best; you’re in good hands,” your friend pets your head softly before leaping onto her plush bed, “maybe you’ll even dance with someone cute! You should keep your head high.”

“...Well, I guess. If I’m with a creep, I’m gonna be so annoyed! How are you so positive?”

Nejire seems to think over her answer before giving you a teasing grin, “because I got the schedule I wanted.”

“Nejire!”

She’d reassured you she was just joking, but it was true. If you were in her position, you’re sure you’d be glad to have everything work out how you want it to. Sucking it up, you were determined not to let a stupid class ruin your well-earned GPA. You don your best comfy clothes and arrive ten minutes early at the studio. 

A couple of people are hanging out in the studio, and there’s a pleasant buzz of chatter while you sit. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. People continued trickling in, and before you could realize it, your professor clapped her hands.

“Good morning, everyone!”

Your face burns a bit hot, was she supposed to wear such tight (and revealing!) clothing? She quickly introduces herself even with all the muttering, “I hope today goes as well for you as it does for me, and I want you to all know that this class will excite you, will make you feel, and most importantly is a lot of fun!”

Everyone around you seems to be either drinking in your professor’s appearance or wondering if they should drop the class; you’re thinking the latter, too, until she drops a bomb on the students.

“You’re all too uptight! You know what? Partner up!”

It feels like you’re about to faint. Looking left, people are making eyes and nodding at each other. Looking right, it’s the same thing, and your heart stops at the realization that you don’t have a partner. There’s so much chatter and commotion as people enter the room to find a clear spot for this cruel icebreaker. 

“Does anyone not have a partner?”

You almost don’t raise your hand, but you have to. Red-hot shame is coursing through your veins. Could this get any worse?

Thankfully, a lanky and pale arm shoots into the sky alongside yours. Before you know it, Nemuri pushes you two toward each other and moves on to the assignment.

“First, say hello. These will be your partners for the rest of the semester, so make sure you like them! I know some of you are gonna date outside of class, and don’t get handsy over there!”

He’s very tall. You have to actually look up at his grumpy face to see him. His hair falls flat, looks damaged, and your cheek twitches. He’s not ugly! If he cared for his hair and maybe got more sleep… dare you say it, he could be cute.

Shigaraki towers over you easily, eyes raking your form (noting that he can see your perky tits in your bra from this advantage.) You look alright, but he’s getting the feeling that you think he’s weird, “you can stop looking at me like an animal.”

“I wasn’t! I really wasn’t,” you offer your hand and introduce yourself, “I really like your skull necklace!”

It feels like a ruse, and Shigaraki reluctantly takes your hand with a bored face, “I’m Shigaraki. Thanks.”

While others seemed to be faring better with their partners, it feels off-putting that he won’t even try to converse with you. If he’s going to have his hands on you, how could he act so cold!?

“Well, jeez. Don’t try to say it all at once,” you mumble sourly, to which your partner scoffs.

“It’s just a class. It’s not even important.”

“It’s important to me,” and you don’t like this guy.

“Then maybe you should find a different partner.”

You look like a kicked puppy when he says that, but he doesn’t take it back and mentally stews in his harshness. Maybe he should make a better effort… you were cute, he supposed. You had great tits, and you complimented his necklace.

Turning back to Nemuri, you can’t think of anything to say to that. Even though you don’t know him, it still stings a bit and your confidence leaks. Were you really that down on your luck?

Nemuri begins, telling each duo to get in a typical slow-dance pose for fun and to “get to know each other more.” It’s starting to get a little creepy, but you wind your arms around Shigaraki’s shoulders anyways. He rests his hands casually on your waist but doesn’t hold you like others. 

“Aren’t you supposed to hold my waist?”

He snickers, “do you want me to?”

Trying to talk to this man is pointless, but you almost smile at his response anyway.

“Just don’t be weird!”

“No promises,” and he’s glad to see you smile at his pervertedness.

Shigaraki decides to be nicer right then and there, in his own way.

Nemuri instructs you to casually slow dance and continue conversing; she even adds music to jazz up the class, which surprisingly works. Your nerves are melting away like butter, and Shigaraki seems to have mildly warmed up to you.

“So… Do you like to dance?”

“Fuck no.”

His bluntness makes you giggle, “yeah, me either. Except at, like, parties. But I wouldn’t really call it dancing!”

“You go to parties?”

“Sometimes! I have a lot of friends who go, so it’s like an outing every time! Do you go to parties?”

It feels kind of dumb to ask that question. No offense to him, but you’re already suspecting his answer before he gives it. He twirls you, and you feel a rush of butterflies.

“Not really. People don’t want a zombie dude at their parties,” his voice is gravelly but smooth, “but I’ve been to a few.”

“They’re fun!”

Before you can continue finding common ground, Nemuri is hollering about reading the syllabus and upcoming material you’ll cover. Shigaraki quickly gets his hands off you, and your heart aches.

“Hey, do you want to exchange social media?”

He’s already got his bag halfway on your shoulder, giving you an unimpressed look.

“I don’t use social media,” and he shuffles even closer to the parade of students exiting the lecture hall.

“Oh. Well, your number?”

You feel yourself grow hot when all he does is smirk and input your digits into his phone.

“There, do you need anything else?”

What happened to the Shigaraki from a few minutes ago? He seems to be in a rush, but you can’t help but feel hurt by his mood swings. Was he always going to be this irritable? Was he going to be someone you could count on in this class?

“...I guess not. Bye.”

He’s out of the room before you realize it, gingerly grabbing your stuff and worrying your lip. This class would be a piece of work, and you couldn’t find your footing so far. Maybe you should just drop it? But you really need that humanities credit and…

“It’s Nejire! Pick up the phone!” 

Nejire’s self-imposed ringtone is heard through your AirPods. The stress is already leaking out of your body just hearing her voice. If you had a girlfriend, she’d be it. You answer cheerily, “hey!”

“Hey! Are you coming back from class right now?”

“Yeah, I just got out. You have to hear about this; my partner sucks!”

Well… you’re embellishing. He doesn’t suck, but he’s not great.

“Aw man, really? I can’t believe it! I thought for sure it was gonna go okay….”

“It’s whatever! I’m over it,” you weren’t. “Why’d you call?”

“Oh! If you’re up for it, Phi Psi is having a party tonight! Do you wanna go?”

Hmm, ironic since you were just talking about parties. Maybe it’d be nice, and perhaps it’d be good to let loose for a couple of hours. The memory of Shigaraki telling you that he goes to some parties replays in your mind, but you try to ignore it.

“Sure! We can go. What’s the theme?”

Pajamas, she’d said. You know that your silk sleep set is more lingerie than anything else, but your nerves are buzzing with pre-gamed shots of vodka and the promise of attractive people buttering you up. Looking around, it’s a typical college party, and you’re already feeling warm from how guys eye you like you’re the hottest thing there.

Shigaraki thinks so and turns the corner, missing your flushed wandering eyes.

“We needa dance!”

Nejire babbles excitedly, Mirio accompanying her while she clutches your bicep.

“Mhm, mhm! Let me get another drink first!”

Mirio keeps Nejire’s legs from buckling and smiles, “we’ll be right here!”

You weave in and out of people, vision getting hazier and every touch feeling electric. A man starts pouring your drink, giving you a dazzling smile. He opens his mouth to talk, but you’re suddenly caged against the fence and face to face with Shigaraki’s chest.

“Wha?”

“Hey.”

He watches you search his eyes for a minute, teetering slightly as you sip the mix of alcohol and punch. Then, there’s remembrance, and you’re leaping joyfully into his chest. It feels… nice, and he gingerly pats your back before steadying you on the balls of your feet.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were going to be here. My friends are over there,” you point past his shoulder, and he sees a guy chasing a girl around, “hiii, Nejire!”

You’re pretty cute when you’re drunk, elongating words and joy coming out of you like a waterfall. A dainty hand grabs a bony one, and you’re about to drag Shigaraki toward your friends to “meet them!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” harsher than he meant to, he rips his hand away, “how drunk are you?”

You give an offended huff, “I’m not drunk! I only had a c-oop! A couple of shots! And this drink! It’s not even a lot….”

Shigaraki feels tempted to be childish and poke fun at you. Boop your nose and pull your hair, but you’re suddenly lost in thought and fascinated with your slippers.

“You look drunk.”

“Well, ’m not. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you right now,” and you’re suddenly invigorated and wanting to seek out your friends, but the first step sends you wobbling right into Shigaraki.

The boy yelps, hands gripping your shoulders and steadying you, “watch it!”

“Let go of me!”

Some onlookers look on, peering eyes, and boys puffing their chests out in case they need to step in. Shigaraki’s mind goes blank, and all he can think of is that you’re so fucking annoying, and why does he still want to help you?

Why did he think of you while fucking his fist in bed last night? He shushes you and crosses his arms.

“Do you want to walk home by yourself?”

You look like a child, happily saying” yes” and nodding proudly. Unfortunately, Shigaraki’s plan failed; you were too happy to wander off alone. He’s reminded of a time when people used to call him creepy when he was smaller and more bug-eyed.

“Oh, okay. Sure, get murdered. See if I care.”

This makes you react like you’re actually thinking about the consequences now. Mulling it over, you chew the inside of your lip and let your head roll back against the fence.

“...Well, I don’t wanna be murdered….”

“Then let me take you home.”

“Since when are you nice?!”

It may sting a bit, but he shows no emotion. He takes a calm breath and blows the air out through his nostrils. There are no words at first, and you’re looking at him with a glint in your eye, and he wonders what you look like when you laugh. When you cry or when you get really excited.

“You don’t even care about me.”

“... You’re my dance partner.”

He’s sure his heart overrode his brain. There’s no way he could say something so cheesy. It makes your heart pound; what did he mean by that? Your drunk brain couldn’t decipher how he presented his feelings, but then he was offering you a hand like a prince.

You never thought you’d call Shigaraki prince-like, and you’re worried that this might spiral out of control soon. Letting him lead you away, you figure that that’s definitely what will happen.

“Who’s room is…?”

Shigaraki has no idea and frankly can’t be bothered to care that he’s stumbling into a random frat guy’s room, “don’t know. Don’t really care?”

He tries to take your shoes off at least, but you’re unceremoniously dropping yourself onto the bed like a fish out of water. Shigaraki feels his cheek twitch in annoyance, and then you’re turning your head with a jutted lip.

“Are you gonna lie?”

“Am I going to what?”

He assures himself you’re too drunk to understand what you’re saying. There’s no reason for you to ask that other than the need to not be alone. You’d never ask that because you genuinely wanted, no, trusted Shigaraki to stay with you. He’d never believe it, but his feet carried him to the edge of the bed, and then he sank into the soft mattress.

It’s quiet, maybe too quiet. The music’s bass thrums through the floors, but all Shigaraki can hear is your soft breath. He doesn’t even realize you’re looking at him in the dimness of his room until he turns his head. His breath catches in his throat. Have you always been so pretty?

The alcohol makes you too sleepy too fast, and it feels like this moment is slipping away from you like you’re trying to cup water in your hands. It’s leaking out of you, and then his red eyes lock onto yours. 

“Why don’t you like me?”

“What do you mean,” and it comes out almost wounded.

“I-hic. I mean, like, when you suddenly act so… mean.”

For the first time in a long time, Shigaraki feels rendered speechless. He wants to jump up and run out of the room like the child he once was, but he can’t find the strength to pull away from your gaze.

“...I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“I just don’t,” and he finally breaks eye contact to look through the window behind you, “you don’t have to pity me, then.”

“I don’t!” 

The end of your words slurs, and you know you’ll lose yourself to the intoxicating feelings of sleep soon.

“I just… I want to like you.”

“Like me?”

You smile widely before you lean forward and press a kiss to his nose. He even goes cross-eyed to try and follow your movements.

“You’re kinda… cute. But, you’re mean. So just be nice! Okay?”

He’s not even sure why he goes along with it.

“Okay.”

Your eyes close, and for a second, he thinks he’s finally free from this impromptu analysis of… well, him. But, you beat him to the chase and whisper quietly.

“I meant it.”

“What?”

“That you’re cute.”

One eye peeks open when he doesn’t respond, and the embarrassment that should be there is only replaced with pure elatedness. His eyes sparkled a bit more. It makes you think that you should compliment him more. You shut your eyes.

“You’re going to be embarrassed tomorrow.”

Maybe he waited too long, but all he knows is that your soft snores escape you quickly, and his heart warms at the sound. It shouldn’t, but it does. He falls asleep shortly after and dreams of a faceless girl who dances with him all night. The girl always keeps smiling at him no matter how stiff he is.

It’s a beautiful dream.

-

Shigaraki’s kind enough to shake you awake just past dawn, and the splitting headache doesn’t make the visual of him leaning over you with a gentle hand easier to see. 

“Hey. Wake up. Some frat dude is gonna yell at you.”

The idea of someone barging in makes you move to sit up and groan, “do you have any water?”

“No. Get up, hurry,” and he’s tugging you off the bed.

It was a bad idea, your sleep-addled brain lagging and causing you to flop directly into a firm chest, “watch out!”

“I’m sorry! I’m barely awake,” and it comes out like a whine, “can we get water?”

You almost think he’ll say no, tell you to fuck off and get water yourself. But, he makes a move you would’ve never expected, calmly lacing his hand with yours and steadying you on your feet.

“Fine, let’s just get going already.”

Was this the Shigaraki you’d met? Had he been replaced by a clone that happened to be identical to the tone of voice? The feeling of a bony hand in yours is unreal. You can hardly take your eyes off the entanglement while Shigaraki urges you to come down the stairs faster than you are.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Did I say something weird last night?”

It comes out in a whisper, and Shigaraki feels like going to college was a huge mistake when he pulls his hand away and holds it close to himself like you’re injured. Like he injured you.

So, be nice! Okay?

“Shigaraki?”

“You said I was cute.”

He’s blushing as he blurts it out like it’s a defense mechanism to keep you from getting closer. You rack your brain for the precise wording, but you can only remember bits and pieces of lying down to look at each other.

Did you really call him cute? You gnaw on your lip and look away, but as you glance at him again, you know you definitely did say that. Your lips turn upwards, the hilarity of you having to double-check while sober if you meant what you’d said...

Shigaraki was even hot now that you really looked at him, even with the tsundere thing going on.

“Well… well! I was drunk! Besides, you can’t tell me you didn’t like hearing it.”

“No, I didn’t. You’re mistaken.”

“What’s that, huh? Why do you look like a tomato, hm?”

He wants to throttle you, wagging your finger in his face and poking his cheek like he’s a zoo animal. 

“I should’ve just left you up there, let you get eaten by wolves.”

“But you didn’t.”

You’re right. Somehow in the mix of pushing you away and being pulled closer, he still stayed there the whole night to keep you safe. He still woke you early enough to escape the wolves lurking in the nearly destroyed frat house. He could’ve let you be eaten by wolves, but he didn’t.

“...Well, whatever. Let’s go.”

“Mkay.”

It’s surprising how you decide to drop the subject. This strange attraction thrummed in your bones, urging you to do something about this little… crush. You let him guide you out the door and towards his car, a beat-up little Toyota. It’s red, too, like his eyes. Maybe it was on purpose.

“You’re okay to drive?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Shigaraki drives recklessly, you note. The way his hands grip the wheel, tires screeching as he swerves out into the abandoned street and takes off. It should make you scared, want to yell, and demand he let you out. Only he gives you a quick glance and smirks. 

You really should talk to Nejire before you decide to fuck him. His music taste blares out of old speakers, a mix of rock and metal that wakes you like a good cup of coffee. You’re about to lose yourself to the Foo Fighters song, but then he snaps the knob down to zero and clears his throat. 

“You owe me.”

“I owe you what? I don’t owe you,” you even cross your arms for effect.

How cute.

“For taking care of you, ruined my night,” he’s lying, and he knows he’s lying, but he can’t help but take a chance.

Take a chance and see if you really mean it, if he’s not just making things up because you want to be nice. The part that runs deep in his blood tells him it can’t be true, and he hopes that, for once, he’s wrong.

“Psh, ruined. You love being around me. That’s why you get like that,” you push it even further, “you just don’t know how to tell me you want me.”

He doesn’t know what to say, and you’re carelessly whistling a tune while picking at your nails. 

“We have to practice our dance for class,” smooth, peaceful transition.

“Right! Tomorrow evening, in one of the practice rooms, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for walking me home.”

Shigaraki repeats his reply, and you note that he seems distracted. You wonder if you also seem distracted; you had a lot to think about!...

And all Shigaraki could think about was holding your waist in his hands. It made his heart thump in his chest. God.

The walk to the practice room was cold, and you were thankful for your quick thinking of wearing leg warmers like a ballerina. You’re unsure if Shigaraki is already there, but you’re shaking off the cold as quickly as possible while storming into the building.

He is there! His phone’s hooked up to a small speaker, and the pale blue walls make him shine even in dark clothing. His hair shakes when he gives you a blithe wave, “hey. Took you long enough.”

“Hey! I came as fast as I could. Is that your speaker?”

“Mm, no. My roommate’s, uh… Dabi? You don’t know him.”

Oh, you’ve heard of him. Frankly, this should be an even bigger red flag, but you pay it no mind and shrug, “I might’ve heard of him.”

He chuckles at that. So you have heard of him.

“Well, anyway. He never uses it, so I took it.”

“Wow, evil.”

You drop your bag next to his, a frumpy black backpack with suspicious stains. You sidle close to him, peering at his Spotify while he scrolls for the correct song.

“You should show me your Spotify account!”

“God no, you’ll never see it. C’mon, we need to get this over with.”

“Whaaaat? You don’t want to hang out and stall practicing with me?”

He’s gotten warmer since your first meeting, lips quirked up as he drops his phone and crosses his lazy arms, “nope.”

“Fine! We can practice, and maybe later, I can steal your phone for your Spotify.”

“Yeah, yeah,” his voice dips a bit lower, “c’mere.”

Something inside of you ignites, but you force yourself to ignore it while wrapping your arms around his shoulders; he slumps a bit to accommodate you, making the fire even hotter. You melt like butter into him. The two of you fit perfectly. You could feel it.

The melody is something from an old movie, gentle and sweet with a romantic vibe. It’s causing tension between you and Shigaraki.

It’s making you want to kiss him.

“You stepped on my foot,” he whispers while twirling you in a half-circle.

Squeaking a quiet apology, he rolls his eyes and dips you a tad, “you seem distracted.”

You can hardly hear him over “Easy Lovers” playing in the background. It’s consuming you whole like you might not ever breathe again.

“Do I?”

“Maybe I just don’t know you that well enough,” and you twirl again.

It’s just practicing for class, for a dumb class that wouldn’t even matter in four years. But you didn’t think of anything at that moment, just that you were pressing soft lips against chapped ones with a feeling of passion behind it. Even if he lacked lip balm, the sensation of him gripping your shirt made everything seem so much hotter. Sweeter.

He even has the gall to swipe his tongue over your lip like he’s the one who took the leap and kissed you first. You know that Shigaraki was too shy to kiss you first. 

“...”

It’s dead silent, his Spotify queue echoing automatically and filling the room with music you don’t think you’ve ever heard. Shigaraki nearly shivers at the confused gleam in your eyes.

“It’s called shoegaze.”

“Shoegaze?”

“Yeah,” and he’s barely finishing the word before taking your cheek in hand and bringing you back to him.

Your breath hitches and you want to get so close the two of you nearly fuse together. Dainty hands tangled in his hair, all raggedy and muted like his skin or clothes. Something about how his bony fingers dig into the curve of your waist keeps your head spinning, and you don’t even realize he owns you by pressing you against the wall and licking the inside of your mouth.

“Sh-aah.”

The moan wasn’t too loud, but it echoed in his head. Shigaraki has never been the type to be so openly carnal and animalistic, and yet it was coming out with every kiss he dotted on the skin of your neck. He could fuck you here if he was so pleased, and briefly, he worried when he felt his cock stir in his pants.

You bring him back to you, grasping like a lifeline and laving over the slickness of his mouth and how he was strong enough to carry you just off the ground. It was stupidly hot; when did he get all this power? It’s like it overtook him, and the two of you part; neither of you wanted to.

“We need to stop.”

“But can’t we–”

“No. Not here,” he mulls over his following words with an annoyed look, “and I don’t have a condom.”

You nearly burst out laughing in his face, dry heaving and keeling over. But it’ll upset him, and that’s the last thing you want. “Oh, well, I’m on birth control?”

“Stop.”

He seems firm in his decision, but you can’t help but wiggle your hips toward him enticingly. Maybe he’ll cave, let you give him a handjob or something. I mean, that’s not that bad, right?

“Please?”

Shigaraki would usually feel irritation rise quickly and overwhelm him, but his eyes flicker down to your wandering hands and wiggling hips. Well, he was serious about not wanting to fuck here, but…

“I’m only doing this so you’ll be quiet!”

He sinks to his knees. You salivate at sight, brimming with joy and confidence. His thumbs hook in your belt loops, and he tenderly runs his hands over your thighs, “grab onto the ballet bar.”

You don’t think you’ll collapse to your knees, but you’re shaking in anticipation because he looks like he knows what he’s doing. The way he swiftly tugs your leggings and panties down in one go, you can feel your arousal smearing your thighs; you were already horny just from kissing him.

Finally, he looks relaxed, parting your puffy lips and admiring your dripping hole.

“It’s cute.”

“Shut up,” you’re breathless already with how you can feel his breath right where you need him.

Then, he’s licking from your clenching hole to the nub of your clit, the glide slick with spit as he gets to work.

“Shigaraki!”

You nearly scream, legs angling in too close, but his surprisingly firm grip keeps you how he wants you. Your hands wrench around the ballet bar as he licks every fold so he can taste as much of you as possible. 

It’s wonderful, and you know now that he does in fact, know what he’s doing, especially with how his nose and cheeks are beginning to shine with arousal. He’s eating you like a man starved like he can’t get enough from fucking you on his tongue; he needs more and more. He licks into your hole, savoring every drop with a clench on your ass that’ll leave bruises for days.

He sucks your clit between his lips before pulling away with a pop, “you’re such a fucking brat.”

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry! Just keep,” and you tilt your hips towards his shiny lips again, “please? Feels so good….”

It’s rewarding how he flattens his tongue to grind up your slit, devouring you like he had too much time to practice. The way he toys with your pussy; makes your legs shake and your back arch off the mirror displaying your debauchedness.

Shigaraki mumbles something, but you’re too busy tilting your hips into his face and making him nearly unable to breathe as you tremble on his tongue. He tonguefucks you, digging deep with obscene slurping noises echoing around you, “oh, fuuuuck.”

Your hands entangle in his white strands, grounding you while you speed towards your orgasm like a rocket setting into space. Shigaraki seems to sense your quickened breaths and gyrating hips; his hands grip your ass cheeks to pull you closer as he makes you creamy. He holds you in place, forcing you to feel his tongue grinding flat circles over your clit before dipping down to lap over your pussy. He acts as if it’s a dessert. Like it’s a real treat to eat you out.

He pulls away, mildly huffing out of breath, “stop moving.”

Soft pecks are placed on your inner thighs as he lets you grow needier and needier through pussy neglect, “Shigaraki, please.”

“Please, what? You’re so selfish,” and he gives a hard suck to your clit, “I should just leave you here.”

 “No! No, don’t!” 

His rough treatment of you makes you jump, but he doesn’t leave you like he threatened. Instead, he kissed the mound of soft curls in the apex of your thighs, nose curving down the slope of your thigh as his breath barely ghosted over your slick lips.

“I want you to be the one that makes me feel good,” maybe if you lay it on thick, he’ll be forced to listen to you!

Instead, all he rewards you with is an unreadable look, but then he’s diving back in between your legs, and you can’t focus on what that look means because Shigaraki will make you cum.

“Yes, yes! Keep going, hah… your tongue’s so deep!”

The wet sounds make you flush, and his intensity makes you jump to your tip-toes and tilt away from the warm, wet mouth that chases you no matter how you tilt your hips.

Your legs are shaking, threatening to close, and the stretched coil snap could happen anytime you’re barely saying, “feel like I’m gonna, gonna c-ungh. Gonna cum…!”

He keeps going. Determined and sloppy with how he’s not even taking a second to breathe. You’re nearly there, humping his face with moans of his name that turn his ears pink. A hand snakes up your leg, and there’s a wet squelch as he easily slips two fingers inside. The stretch is delicious torture, and you cum while crying out.

“Shigaraki!”

His fingers help you ride out your orgasm, the remnants glistening on his fingers as your cream sticks to them lewdly before he sucks the essence off. He stands once you’ve regained yourself. 

“Pretty good,” and he gives his hand one last lick; he can’t even stop the snark from appearing.

“Shut up! You’re so embarrassing.”

“Yeah, yeah, didn’t I just make you cum? All whiny, ‘ah, ah! Shigaraki mmph!’ right?”

“No! Not even right at all,” and he casually leans over you with his hands on the ballet bar as if you two were dating as if he was actually your boyfriend, “...but thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“Well, well, I mean! Thank you for… indulging me.”

You had trailed off, not even realizing how close he was to your ear until he whispered a gravelly, “you’re so very welcome for making you cum, if that’s what you mean.”

Neither of you speaks. You can’t help but look down and notice the bulge in his pants. He seems unbothered, but leaving him high and dry feels unfair.

“Do you want me to…?”

He gives a quick glance down but shakes his head, “Nah. We should just wrap all of this up, though.” 

“Right,” and yet you don’t stop thinking about it while both of you make the practice room look neat again.

Even while walking you back home, his second time, Shigaraki knows that there’s something secretive on your mind.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing! Just tired.”

“...Right.”

He stares at you for too long before you head into your dorm. You know what’s coming but don’t make the first move. He’s quick about it, but he does kiss you. It’s so fast, sweet, and low stakes that you smile warmly at him.

“Goodnight, Shigaraki.”

The boy nods, pulling up his hoodie, “night.”

You can’t wait to tell Nejire all about it.

“You what?! You had sex with Shigaraki?!”

Nejire’s in disbelief, nearly falling off her bed as she bolts towards your side of the room, “you really did?”

“Other people can probably hear you! But, well, yeah. It wasn’t like we went all the way or anything! He just went down on me,” the pink in your cheeks is evident while you begin to unravel the story.

“Wait, where was this again?”

“Oh. The, well, the practice room?”

“The practice room?!.”

She suddenly bursts into laughter, and you feel your cheeks twitching as you squeeze her hands, “c’mon, it’s not funny!”

“No, no, it’s not. I didn’t think Shigaraki would eat pussy in the practice room!”

Sometimes you regret telling your roommate anything, but it took the edge off thinking about how he hadn’t texted you. Should you expect a text? You figured it would be something lighthearted, but he just went radio-silent. Just like that, it hurt, you had to admit. But, you weren’t gonna let him get away with it. You’ll get your payback soon, finally get him to realize what he’s really feeling.

You hope it’s the same as what you’re really feeling.

Then, the day of your presentation is like the sunrise. Knowing everyone would be watching you didn’t ease your nerves. Considering Shigaraki had been ignoring your texts since the last time you met, it felt like he was contributing to your anxiety just as much as the actual dance! You could hardly get dressed, shrugging on your comfiest yet presentable clothes. 

Maybe he thought it was a mistake, and your fingers were itching to send a text. Nejire had advised you to send something short and sweet before leaving for the day, and you finally cave while brushing your teeth.

[Dance Partner]: Do you want to meet up before class?

Shigaraki lay in bed, still in pajamas and debating whether to drop out. His heartbeat spikes at the message, and it feels so dumb to get excited over a mere text. He’d been practicing, unbeknownst to you, spending so much time in the bathroom with the door locked to practice his footwork that he’d gotten an angry text from his roommate.

[Shigaraki]: I think it’s fine

Part of you wonders if he’ll show up at all.

[Dance Partner]: I’m nervous.

He doesn’t reply, but he feels the same. Eventually, he meandered his way to his closet to pick his outfit. Yeah, he was nervous too. 

You spot him first, and part of you wants to wave him over but he seems to hardly look up. This was all fruitless. You should’ve never done anything in that practice room. Tears prickle your vision at the sudden emotion of it, a test, and knowing a guy wants nothing to do with you? It sucks much more than you thought it would.

“Hey.”

He’s calm, voice smooth and honeyed as he sits next to you. Hopefully, he doesn’t notice your glassy eyes.

“Hey.”

The silence passes between you as more people file in, and Nemuri sets up the class materials. 

“I don’t think you should be nervous,” he pauses to side-eye you, “I’ve been practicing.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to give you a bad grade, and I need to pass.”

He put you first, and maybe it’s dumb to analyze his order of priorities, but it makes you feel special, “I think we’ll do well.”

You finally turn to look at him, and he’s already looking at you.

“Stop acting weird.”

“I-I’m not! I’m just nervous!”

“Yeah, right,” and a gentle hand settles on your knee, “I know what you’re thinking. About the practice room.”

“You’re the one that didn’t text me back.”

He doesn’t reply right away, but you know he feels terrible. The way he swallows and clenches his free fist, the regret is a bit palpable.

“...I know, and I’m sorry.”

He squeezes your knee for emphasis, “genuinely.”

You suppose it’s okay, mumbling that you forgive him and relishing in the burn that his hand leaves on your leg. Nejire clears her throat, and you listen to her instructions. His hand doesn’t leave your knee.

She calls your names about halfway into class, and suddenly the lights seem too bright once you’re on stage. You can feel your leg shaking as you stand interlocked with Shigaraki. He looks calm and collected. If anything, he seems to be more worried about you. 

Indeed he can feel your anxiety shakes, and then his thumb rubs the space between your collarbones. It suddenly feels like everything will be alright.

“Are you two ready?”

You squeak out a “yes!” and Shigaraki merely nods; the music follows, and you retreat into your mind to remember every step.

“Don’t be nervous,” he whispers softly, and you feel like you could do anything.

The two of you dance to the same song in the practice room while you swim across the floor with grace, the type of grace that’s only there because you have a connection. It comes effortlessly, Shigaraki leading with you following as he steadily guides you by your waist. 

You remember to make eye contact, and your breath is stolen because your biggest fears have been confirmed. You like Shigaraki. You want him carnally. More than anything in the world, you move like two souls on the same plane. Everything about it is perfect.

He stops the momentum, your upper half steadily supported by a hand that shows so much tenderness between your shoulder blades. The two of you were breathing softly, near exhaustion with the way your bodies swirled together into one.

“Excellent! Very nice. Any critiques?”

The spell is broken, and you’re collecting your breath while smoothing your clothes. Whew, that was something. Your eyes track toward Shigaraki’s, and he’s looking at you again.

“I thought you guys looked very clean,” said a meek girl desperate to escape the room’s silence.

You offer a “thanks” and note the critique of better posture, among other surface criticism. Nemuri writes on her clipboard, smiling and nodding, “excellent, thank you, you two.”

“I have to go, excuse me.”

He leaves you alone on the stage to race up the stairs to collect his backpack. You’re knocked out of a trance and thrown into deep waters, and Nemuri begins to call the next names.

“Hiroshi, is your partner not here? Oh, and,” she turns back to you, “you can take a seat now.”

You do.

It’s time to settle this, Shigaraki decides. There’s a three-day break coming up, and his mind has been looping back to it every passing class. He couldn’t keep running away from you anymore after you were assigned different partners for the next dance. If he doesn’t act, he’ll completely lose you.

And for the record, Nemuri was a liar. Could she not see the connection between you two? Even he could see it, and he wished he couldn’t.

It felt like you were slipping away, partnered with someone else, and Shigaraki had been conversing with you sparsely. It was torture, Hell on Earth if he had to imagine it. You’re getting lost in the waves, and he’s losing his grip.

Meanwhile, you’ve been getting on top of your classwork and contacting your new dance partner, Eijirou. It doesn’t feel the same of course, not when you can feel Shigaraki’s eyes on you every time you’re in the arms of the redhead.

You don’t expect anything from him anymore; you pretend not to. The ding sounds from your phone, and you just know.

[Shigaraki]: hey

It makes your heart race, and you can feel your pulse thrumming in your neck.

[Her]: Hey

[Shigaraki]: wyd

[Her]: I’m not doing this

[Shigaraki]: come over

[Her]: No

[Shigaraki]: i wanna see you

You want to slap yourself. Tell him there’s no way you can deal with his hot and cold nature. That even if you like him, he’s not good for you. You can’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t, won’t.

[Her]: Come to my dorm and walk with me, it’s too dark and cold

[Shigaraki]: omw

Waiting feels painful. You spend a minute making sure you are moisturized and smelling good, and then eventually, he’s at the sliding door of the dorm. You’re wearing a simple long-sleeve, and you’re keen to pick up on the fact that he really brought you a coat.

“Hey,” you smile and eagerly embrace him the tiniest bit.

“Hey, take it. ‘M tired of holding it,” and your hands are brushing when you take the black hoodie to slip over your head.

The walk is quiet, and you can feel anticipation climbing up your spine as the two of you grow closer and closer. The cold is nonexistent, not with the warmth you feel because of the boy beside you.

“Is your roommate home?”

He shakes his head, hand steady as he slips the key into the lock and brings you into his space. The lights flicker on, and you’re smiling at his side of the room. Dark, a bit punk, and he’s totally unashamed of it. He drops the keys in the bowl, turning his head first before fully facing you.

“So–”

You’re rushing to jump into his arms, connecting your lips effortlessly in a kiss that soothes all aches you’d ever had about him. You knew he would catch you, and you fit like the sun and moon. The connection makes you heave into the kisses, leaning into the slickness of saliva coating your lips while he pushes you against the nearest wall. 

It feels like dancing, the way your tongues slide against each other with a fierceness while he shrugs off his jacket. You’re already wet, impossibly wet, and the mewls come out despite you trying to swallow them. The need for him is so strong you’re dropping your legs to move things along.

“You’re so fucking hot,” pressing his forehead against yours, “holy shit.”

“You wanna see more?”

Peeling off the sweatshirt to catch your curves worn under the fitted long-sleeve. His hand circles your lower back, eyes locked onto how your tits nearly spill out of its v-neck. They’re so easy to hold; his hand is already sliding up your side to the underside of your breasts. 

“Can I?”

“Of course,” you whisper while tugging his hand to squeeze your tits, sighing at the contact.

“No bra?”

“What, you, ah! You want it to get in the way?”

“God, no,” His other hand meets your other tit, fully groping you, and his eyes nearly crimson with need.

His hardness is apparent, the bulge nudging against your thigh while his knee applies delicious pressure to your aching clit; you can’t stop your hips from grinding up against his leg.

“Kiss me,” and he’s quick to shut you up, hands raking under your shirt to feel skin on skin.

“Shigaraki!”

He could listen to you say that all day, but he can’t stand how the two of you are still so tightly clothed. Your shirt comes up, and you’re quick to immediately tug it off and grind on his leg again. It’s sticky, hot, and heady as the two of you dry-hump against the only space on the wall. 

“Wait, we should…we should move to the bed,” and he doesn’t seem to hear you with how he lurches forward to lick into your mouth, “Sh-Shigaraki.”

The kisses only stop for a moment, but then he’s pushing away from the wall and guiding you by the hands to the bed. He slips off his sweatpants, leaving his boxers on, and you mirror him. It almost feels too intimate when he stares at you once settled on top of you, and you can’t take it.

His hand circles your nipple slowly, making you arch at the feeling of him toying with your chest, “mm!”

Resting on his left hand, you watch as the bony hand travels downwards, swooping under your tit to glide past your belly button and reach the black band of your panties, “may I?”

You’ve never been so turned on, and you’re sure it’ll be smeared all over your thighs by the end of this tryst. Lifting your hips, he tosses the panties onto the floor, and your face burns with how your wetness immediately soaks his fingers when he runs them through your slit.

“You’re so wet, you’re that needy?”

“I just need you to touch me…!”

He gives a low hum, digits circling your clit so slowly that your legs jump closed, “keep them open.”

You’re getting desperate, eager to feel him slip his fingers inside and crook them up, but he’s so calm and attentive. Taking his time, he looks at every inch of your pussy with fire in his eyes. You’re dripping, and the slick sounds when he just barely slips his middle finger into your hole nearly echo.

Finally, he indulges you by slipping it in deep and rubbing your clit with his thumb. You can hardly breathe, toes curling as you hold his wrist to keep fingering you, “fuck, feels so good!”

He can only chuckle, curling his fingers and hitting that gooey spongy spot that arches your back and leaves muffled cries spilling through your fingers. It feels so good, too good, and you’re soaring as he finally starts to thrust his hand.

“Come on, let me hear what you have to say. Do you like it? Do you want more?”

“I wan, I want…!”

He forces his hand, adjusting to a steady rhythm that you can practically hear yourself getting close from the stimulation of being finger-fucked. Looking down at you, he’s keyed into every movement. Every noise and body twitch. It’s like he’s been possessed to make you cum, and you’re nearly there.

“Gonna cum, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you grappled for your tit like a lifeline, and it was like a show with how he watched you tug at your chest.

It’s so desperate, and it feels perfect to finally be connected and feel the heat of his breath while he makes you cream on his hand. You’re at his mercy, and he knows it, “go on and cum. Wanna fuck you.”

You nearly black out, the tension snapping like a rubber band as you gyrate your hips. It’s debauched, but you hardly care when Shigaraki rubs a tight circle on your clit, “heh.”

“You’re,” you’re still panting, and he grins.

“I’m what?”

He’s shrugging his boxers off while you recover, and your clit throbs once he exposes his cock, lean and long like his fingers. 

“Nothing!”

“Cat got your tongue?”

You circle closer to him, watching eagerly as he slips the condom on with ease. Your mouth’s watering and you want to go down on him badly, but he has other plans. 

“Wanna do doggy?”

“Yeah,” and it’s the hottest sight he’s ever seen when you bend over, exposing your clenching hole waiting to be filled. Your ass is up in the air, and you look perfectly spread out for him. 

The slap on your ass makes you jump, but Shigaraki seems happy with the way he kneads the fat of your ass. His cock bumps into your pussy as he maneuvers himself, and the slickness of it sliding between your folds and bumping your clit makes you shake.

“God, I could fuckin’ tease you forever,” and he grips the base of his cock with a groan, “I don’t know why I waited so long.”

“I know! Why don’t you–”

He slides home, he’s not too girthy, but the length makes your arms shake while supporting your body, “oh god.”

“Yeah, fuckkk, yeah.”

It’s a slow rhythm, clearly reveling in the wet warmth and tightness of your hole; he’s got a death grip on your hip as he shallowly thrusts into you, “amazing pussy.”

You can only moan a “thanks” as he moves a bit more, cockhead dragging against your walls and then filling you back up till you feel like you can’t breathe. The bed creaks, and he starts pounding you so hard it cries. Jolting you forward, you can’t even lean away from how he plows himself into you, balls slapping against your clit, giving you aftershocks.

It’s messy, and he’s barely holding his rhythm because you’re squeezing around him so tight and he feels like he might shoot his load any second. He slows down for a mere second to rub your clit, lean body resting on yours as he moves his hips in tandem with yours.

He’s panting and is too stuck on your eyes rolling back to notice he’s inching closer and closer to his orgasm. The coil is hot in his tummy as he ravages you and makes you take all of him. The connection drives you wild, and soon you’re pushed face-first into the pillows as he fucks you like a fleshlight. 

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god,” and he fucking whimpers inside of you.

It sends your head spinning as he reaches his peak, a hand slapping your ass as the two of you move together. Your ass smacks against his lower abs, and the slick that coats the top of the hair around his base makes him heave, “I’m gonna cum. Fuck, gonna milk this sweet pussy.”

You barely crane your head to catch a view, and he looks heavenly, and his eyes draw shut. He’s barely even thrusting, just mashing into you deeper and harder. He opens his eyes, and the red in them turns nearly burgundy as he grunts.

“Shiga-Shigaraki…!”

One, two, and then he’s pinning you down with his body weight as his hips jerk up into you. You know he’s wearing a condom, but part of you wants to imagine the heat filling your insides and breeding you. The thought of it makes you squeeze around him, and his fingers leave bruises on tender parts of your flesh.

It takes a minute for your breath to calm. The feeling of satiation with Shigaraki still buried to the hilt in you feels so comforting that you could fall asleep. You’re barely there, thoroughly fucked and floating in space. He has enough strength to interlock your hands on top of you, and the two of you bask in the post-coital glow.

“You gonna get off me any time soon?”

He offers a steady deep breath before replying.

“Nope. It’s my reward for looking after you at that party.”

“Really? You’re still on that?”

Sidelining you again, you remember why he frustrates you so much once again. But it doesn’t hurt this time; it just feels good.

“Go on a date with me.”

“You can’t just change the subject like that!”

“Then go on a date with me, and I won’t have to.”

Your mouth flattens into a straight line, “you’re lame.”

Small kisses dot the curve of your neck as he finally pulls himself out of you. You leave in a flash to use the bathroom and return to the covers being pulled up just for you.

The two of you settle on meeting up next Monday.

[Shigaraki]: See you at the ice skating rink

You never knew Shigaraki would be one to skate between you two? He didn’t, either. He supposed you just bring out that side of him.

The side that likes dancing, ice skating, and you.

[tht0nesimp]

Cold- Yan!Feitan

tw: Mentions of torture, feitan is a warning in himself, you really like peaches

This wasn’t fair. But then again, life isn’t fair? Is it? You questioned for the millionth time as your arms laid limp in the metal chains holding them just a bit too far up to the ceiling to be comfortable

When you’d first gotten here, prayers and promises were all that could pass through your already fragile mind struggling to believe that this experience is truly real. But alas, no matter how hard you screamed, pinched, or cried, the reality of your Situation never changed

you were still hanging by your wrists just barely above the cold concrete floor instead of being on your couch listening to music or poems or sleeping, doing anything that Didn’t cause as much pain, Albeit the only thing that kept you from thinking this was the worst possible outcome was the bloody screams coming faintly from the other side of the small area you were in, the only thing keeping you from the rest of the concrete basement was a few thick dividers somewhat resembling what you would see dividing patients at a hospital

there was a small cot next to you with a thin blanket on it, worn out and as much as you would love to lay down on it, it looks like it’s barely 10 pounds from falling in on itself. The only other thing with you in this small corner of the-Barely-closed off room was a rusted sink covered in all sorts of liquids as well as unidentifiable stains

He rarely talked to you, he either came to hurt you to watch you (Sometimes the latter), More than likely a cruel tactic to break down your “tough” psyche which hadn’t quite crumbled down on itself yet. He was asking someone questions, the screams were somewhat faint to your delight as it Meant you wouldn’t have to hear the man plead for his life today

The noises eventually come to a stop, And footsteps slowly make stop infront of the divider. His shoes visible for a moment before the divider moves and suddenly your body hits the freezing grey floor

“Up.” He speaks with slight annoyance, adrenaline seemed to let your tired legs shakily stand. “Hm” he stared at the cot and held his hand out for a moment, doing something you couldn’t see, “Lay down” he points to the cot and seems rather pleased that you wearily lay on it

It doesn’t collapse but it creaks “I’ll get a new one tomorrow” his monotone voice barely reaches you “Thank you” the feeling of laying down even if it was just with a thin blanket was refreshing beyond belief. “Don’t try anything, or you’ll get to see first hand what happens” He warns

“Yes sir” the words come out dry from days without water or food “It’s feitan” he moves the divider quickly and suddenly hes gone. It takes a few hours for you to even be able to get up and stretch your legs, you approach the old sink attached to the wall at the bottom of the cot-The thought would have made you sick before this last week or so but it barely even made your mind in the desperate mood you were in

you put your hand under the weak stream of water trickling from the leaky faucet, taking a gulp of the cold water was pure bliss. After a few more rabid gulps you were able to turn off the sink before sitting back down on the cot

you were so focused on the water that you neglected to realize feitan stood behind you, watching the animalistic behavior with a surprised look hiding behind his cowl. You immediately look down in slight shame, mixed with fear of how he might react

“hmm, thirsty, huh?” He teased while looking at the sink for a moment “Uh…yeah” your voice comes out weaker than you hoped it would “I might replace the sink eventually” if you were delusional than you might have actually believed him

You spared him your seeming belief in the form of a thin smile, your mind much more worried about how your going to get out of this hellhole. Feitan stared for what felt like an eternity before he walks away once more into the surrounding room- The only difference was that the divider was not returned to its closed off form and instead is open

You clumsily stumbled out, Looking around the rest of the room, There was someone shaking in the corner as if they were freezing but you ran past them and towards the wooden steps that creaked when you ran up them to reach the upstairs of his house. Your greeted by feitan sitting at a table next to a small kitchen, on the other side of the table is a living room with a small old couch sitting facing a small TV

“Brave one…” he mutters just loud enough for you to hear from the top step, the dusty glass goor closed behind you as your feet meet the near freezing wooden floors of the dining room. “Sit, Hungry?” He calmly asks with a slight hint of pity at seeing your shaky steps towards the chair across from him

“Yeah…” you look down at your lap but it just makes him chuckle and get up, placing a peach in front of you with surprising gentleness. “Thank you” it takes all of your effort not to immediately sink your teeth into the soft fruit in-front of you until he sits down across from you, the little self control you managed to uphold tore to pieces when you looked down at the fruit again

It wasn’t peach season, but the thought barely crossed your mind as the fruit was gone in mere seconds. Feitan laughed at the once more ravenous behavior in a way that made your cheeks light up pink from shame

“Your as pink as the peach was” he mumbles before throwing the pit in the trash without even looking, watching the slight amazement on your face with pride.

He propped his elbows up on the table and held his head in his hand “I’m gonna ask you questions, your gonna answer honestly” out of some small confidence you had the curiosity to ask “If I don’t?” feitan sighs and his eyes narrow at you

“then you can say goodbye to the cot, for a long,long, time”

[afatallovesong]

Dear Diary

An Ashton Irwin one shot

18+, Smut, NSFW

Super short overstimulation fic bc I could

Word Count: 1024

You took a mental picture of the situation. You could see the note already scrawled out underneath it, like the entry to a diary. It was a confession, a shocking event worth documenting. Your body had never reacted to him like this. Where your legs usually split like an open invitation for his love, today you found them fighting to close. To force him out. To take a breather from his torture. You’d ached around his fingers. You’d given him the best that you could. Your hips no longer wished to shake. Your core no longer enjoyed the burn of a coming orgasm. You were spent. Nothing left to give but the twitching of your hips, the involuntary clenching around his already soaked digits.

“Come on, open up for me.” He beckons you. He toys with you. Both your thighs were tightened around his arm and yet he had enough strength to remain in place. “Feel you pulsing.” His other hand trickles up your thigh, toward your hip. Chills run across your scorching hot skin. “Know you can give me more.” Despite his threats before he’d softened to reel you in. “Just let me in.” He’s caressing your hip, grabbing, and releasing, kneading into you with his soft hands. Your legs loosen their grip against your will. He’d smile but the battle wasn’t over yet.

“I can’t, I can’t.” You’re panting, writhing as his fingers curl inside you. Your head is spinning, you’re thrashing around, and he just used his spare hand to fasten you into the mattress. You’re enthralled at the strength he’s shown. You’d appreciate it if he wasn’t overstimulating you. You hoped you’d go numb. He’d worked you so hard you broke and couldn’t be used anymore. You wouldn’t have to fight against your next orgasm and the toll it took on your body. The absolute wreckage of them.

“You wanted this; you wanted me to use you.” You blocked that conversation from your mind 3 orgasms ago. You’d said something vaguely along those lines, you couldn’t quite recall it at this moment in time, but he’d certainly help you with that. “Need you so bad,” he mimics, leaning down, his face lowering to the crook of your neck where he kissed between sentences. “Need you to fuck me. Need your cock.” You’re shaking your head, you refused to acknowledge it even if that was the truth. “Want you to use me baby please.” He whines and pouts towards the end and your legs are loosening again, letting him fuck a little deeper. Did you have any power at all?

“Well, I’m going to use you, and you’re going to like it.” The breath fluttering over your earlobe has your cunt clenching. You feel his smirk against your skin, and he thinks he’s won but he’s not there yet. You didn’t have it in you. You thought you’d never cum again for the rest of your life. You just throbbed and burned, maybe even stung from the constant pounding. You were soaked for sure, no doubt about that, but the consistent motion and friction, you’d be sore for days, limping too probably. “Thought you were there, weren’t you there sweetheart?” You shake your head with a sob. When he pulls back, sitting up again, you think he too, might be ready to cry.

“You want me to fuck you all night but don’t have the decency to cum on my fingers? Hmm. How will I know you can take this cock if you can’t even take these. So, fucking ungrateful baby, that hurts.” You let out a choked sob at the thought of him fucking you even after all this. Never mind aching for days, it’ll be weeks, months, and years. You could say goodbye to walking ever again. There was no way you’d see the outside of this room for at least 3 years at this rate.

He’s bending them gorgeous fingers inside again and your pulse skyrockets before your back arches from the bed beneath his grasp. “There it is, let it out baby.” You’re trying to squeeze your thighs again but it’s no use. Its hurtling towards you and there’s no signs of stopping it. “Come on baby that’s it, good girl, cum for me.” You’re crying, tears burning down your cheeks as you feel your whole body burst before disintegrating into nothingness. It’s as if you pushed yourself over the edge of a cliff, to fall and not acknowledge the trip down. You were in your subconscious. Here but not here. Floating away from him. You saw him but couldn’t register his voice, just this ringing in your ears, the blurry noise of the images before you. Your lover stroking your cheek, no longer talking, just looking at you with nothing but kindness and concern.

You’re drifting away. You hadn’t felt your rapid breaths, your panicked expression, nor the way your hips were cracking as you dropped them to the mattress. You’re so faded you took a while to notice he’d slipped from the room to grab a hot flannel for you. He’s cleaning you up, rubbing over your bruised cunt, your soaked thighs. He’s swapping the flannel for a cooler one, tackling the sweat coating your chest, just dabbing it away before moving it towards your brow, then to pat your nose as you stir back round.

He’s ogling at you, but you feel like a sick patient with a nurse here to tend to your every need instead of a cared for girlfriend. “I love you.” Is what you try to say but with the coarseness of your dehydrated throat, you hardly say a word at all. He’s already hopping off the bed to grab a glass of water before you even attempt to request one. He’s slipping his hand under your neck, lifting it toward the glass he leant softly against your lips before tilting it, allowing the water to flow between your puffy pink lips.

Your eyes roll back at the sharpness of the cool beverage. The water soothed the scratchiness in your throat and the dryness of your tongue, proving a hero for your oral needs but God there was so much it couldn’t do for you. You could scarcely move, feel your limbs at all actually. Not to mention you couldn’t focus on anything but the stray curls sticking to his forehead as if they were glued there purposefully. “I love you.” You croak again. He’s fighting a smile at your poor attempt. “I love you.” He says sweetly, eyes raking over your face, memorising each feature exactly as it was now, natural. He’d also be taking an image for his diary entry. “I’d love you more if you were hydrated.” 

[zablife]

Aurora Meets Rose

Rose Solomons x Aurora Sabini Changretta

Author's Note: Written for @raincoffeeandfandoms birthday event celebrating the Peaky fandoms' female OCs! Happy birthday, darling 🎈These lovely OCs are the brain child of @raincoffeeandfandoms (Rose Solomons) and myself (Aurora Changretta). I'm sorry it's so angsty, Flor, but Rose is the heroine here rescuing Aurora from a life of misery so I thought this was a nice tribute to your OC! I hope you agree. This will be part of a larger work titled My Sun, My Moon and All My Stars coming soon! (Based on this moodboard with a few changes.)

Warnings: mention of terminal illness, mention of domestic abuse, mention of blood

Rose expected someone quite different from the woman she was meeting today. She’d heard Aurora Changretta was a tigress, someone who never gave an inch to her enemies. However, the woman who stood before her bloodied and broken was not in a position to argue. She might listen to the plea on Rose’s lips so she began in earnest.

As Rose handed over a flannel dipped in cool water, she admitted what she wanted. “I’ll be blunt, Mrs. Changretta. My Alfie has cancer. He’s riddled with it. The doctors say it’s probably from the gas during the war,” she explained with furrowed brow as though she didn’t understand or believe the words that came from her lips. However, Aurora knew them to be true. They were the admission of someone who loved deeply and had not yet come to terms with an imminent loss. 

“I’m sorry,” Aurora responded. “But I don’t see how I can help,” she admitted.

Rose cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, rising to her full height. “You can get that man out there to go home. Leave us in peace for the days we have left,” she asserted.

Aurora bit her lip to keep a bitter laugh from escaping. Instead she just shook her head. Taking a deep breath she turned to Rose and spoke slowly to make the other woman realize her predicament. “You think I tell him the ways of the world? No, he doesn’t listen to me anymore,” she admitted, dabbing at her wounds. “He has very little use for me these days,” Aurora admitted in a soft whisper.

“You’d die by his hand? Because that’s where you’re headed, love,” Rose warned, recalling her own difficult past. “Won’t you try?”

Aurora paused for a moment, a trickle of bloody water running down her elbow. This went against everything Aurora had ever been taught. You never spoke against your family, no matter what happened. Her parents ingrained that in her at an early age. However, her parents’ marriage had been one based on love and respect.

As she sat in the damp distillery, listening to the distant sound of machinery, she thought of her future with Luca and his intention to crush her beneath him became abundantly clear. He didn’t care for her as he once did. When the money and the resources were gone, he would dispose of her.

Finally Aurora mumbled one word into the darkness of the small room, keeping her voice low in case Luca was nearby. “How?”

Rose inhaled a sharp breath, chin rising suddenly with renewed hope to meet Aurora’s wide hazel eyes, full of questions and doubt. She knew how hard it would be to ask this of kind of trust from a stranger, but if she could convince her to take the first step, the rest would fall into place.

“We get you to Tommy Shelby,” Rose said confidently.

Aurora shook her head violently. “No, please. He’ll kill me.”

“He won’t. He’s not Luca,” Rose promised, rushing the rest of her speech for fear Aurora might bolt in fear. “This vendetta was started by the Changrettas and your husband is using your family to fund his war. Now he’s asking my husband to help. It won’t stop unless we say so. We can stop him, Aurora. Will you join me?” Rose asked, reaching for Aurora’s bloodied hand.

Aurora’s lip trembled thinking of crossing Luca, but she had had enough. If there was one thing her father taught her it was to fight for her own interests and she knew she still had fight within her. 

“Yes, I’ll help you,” Aurora agreed on a shaky breath, reaching for Rose.

“We’ll protect you, I promise,” Rose said, intertwining her fingers with Aurora’s stained fingertips. The blood that tainted her would soon be washed clean.

[banisheed]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Siobhan’s house PARTIES: Siobhan (@banisheed) & Manuel, Ángel, Rubi and Yiri of Los Sombras Del Sur (written by @muertarte) CONTENT: Eye trauma tw SUMMARY: Siobhan has some visitors.

“We’re just gonna hit up this bitch’s house and then call it a night. Saw the fucker speed their damn way over here the other night.” Manuel was in charge of the group for the night. He’d hoped it would’ve been Efrain or Aracely, but neither would take the bait. Taking lead was just so much work. Sticking to the background was what he preferred, but Master wouldn’t have it. 

With Manuel’s unmatched skill to observe and track, he was one of the first names tossed in for leaders. It was supposed to be an honor. That’s what everyone told him. Having Master see you was the peak of any clan member’s career, but Manuel could care less, honestly. He just wanted to go home and not waste time tracking a nobody. Why the hell was this Metzli important anyway? Why did Master want them returned to him, alive? 

Whatever, he thought. At least they were allowed to kill and feed on anyone else in their way. That included the lady that lived in the giant ass home they were standing in front of. After killing her, stealing everything inside was next on Manuel’s to-do list. She had to be loaded. It wasn’t like Master paid them very much even though they did all the work. He’d take what he could get. 

Knock, knock, knock. He breathed idly, rolling his weight from front to back as he put on his most charming smile. No need to blow their cover before the big reveal. They just had to lure her out or get themselves invited in. Neither should be too difficult to pull off. 

Siobhan groaned, rubbing crust from the corner of her red eyes. Apparently, worrying about her friend didn’t make for a good night’s sleep, and when she tried to remind herself that she was an uncaring instrument of Fate, all she could do was stare up at her ceiling, thinking about nothing. When Metzli told her that they’d be out with a friend today, she thought it was the perfect time to nap on the couch. And then, the knocking. She thought about ignoring it but the dog started up, barking wildly at the door. She groaned again, rolling off the bed and tugging her silk robe tighter around her body. She wanted to keep herself decent, even if she was still largely nude. At least nothing was dangling out. 

“Coming,” she called out, shooing the dog away. When she pulled the door open, a sharp chill trickled down her skin and she pulled her body close to the door, making sure none of her was sticking out beyond the threshold of her house. For a moment, Siobhan scowled and then, the expression morphed into a pleasant but thin smile. The only thing that stopped her from popping the undead from where she stood was the thought that this man might have been Chuy; she didn’t ask Metzli what he looked like. But it was within reason that if her friend was being chased by an evil vampire cult and now an undead showed up at her door, it was probably a vampire from said cult. 

“Hello,” Siobhan said, wondering why her religion of Fate didn’t exactly have any iconography. She thought she could remember her mother saying it was improper to apply symbols to Fate, a nebulous force beyond mortal comprehension, but she couldn’t be sure if the sentiment wasn’t one born out of her own musings instead. Anything that might have applied under the concept of religion was lost to her anyway, as she stumbled out of Saol Eile with nothing but tattered clothes. Regardless, she did have some garlic in the kitchen… somewhere. “Did you need something?”

Manuel sent the rest of the posse into their hiding spots. Ángel all but leapt into a bush, Rubi quietly made her way up the side of the house, and Yiri literally just…stepped behind a tree. Manuel rubbed at his face with frustration and slipped a piece of gum into his mouth to give himself something to do to appear normal. The icy sensation filled his mouth, and he chewed annoyingly loud as he grinned when the door finally opened.  

Que chido. 

The lady was gorgeous. Did beauty have any correlation with how tasty someone is? That was a theory Manuel needed to test out, as soon as possible. “Buenos días, señora.” He said with a notable accent, still chewing loudly with a smug look on his face. “We are looking for our friend. Very tall, very weird.” More chewing, more grinning. “Got an arm missing.” That’s when he chuckled, finding it particularly funny thinking about how stupid a person could be to have their master rip off their arm. How could anyone who had that happen be special? Whatever. He had a job to do and there was no way he’d end up with a similar fate. 

“Now, mira, señora,” Leaning onto the doorframe, Manuel’s smile turned wicked and his eyes went dark. “All’s you gotta do is let me and my friends inside.” He whistled, and two vampires joined him from their respective places. Rubi remained in place. A precautionary measure. She’d leap down if they needed her. “We’ll look for them and if we find anything, take them back home. Safe and sound. Well…” Manuel bounced his head side to side, taunting. “Depending on how much they fight. But they’ll be alive!” The rest of the crew laughed and nodded along, red flashing in their eyes. 

“Let us in. Or we can wait. You gotta come out sometime, and listen, we’re not the only group. Choose wisely.”

The description sent a shock through Siobhan’s spine, forcing her to straighten herself. Her grip tightened on the doorknob, hidden on the other side of the door. They were looking for Metzli, and they didn’t seem to have a high opinion of them if they were so brazen. Two more vampires joined in and the chill Siobhan had been feeling turned into a freeze. She wanted to yell that she wasn’t letting them anywhere near Metzli, she wasn’t going to let them take her friend; it all felt a little too dramatic for her tastes, and far too heroic. Instead, she settled back into a pleasant smile. Glancing down at her feet, she made sure her body was safe inside her house, all tucked in. “Sorry.” Siobhan looked at the vampire and his friends again. “I’m not entirely sure I know who you’re talking about, but I can let you in for a chat. Just…oh, what are your names? You and your friends? I’m not in the habit of inviting strangers in, but if you told me your names, I could reconsider. I—do you promise you’ll be honest with me? You need to promise you’ll be honest; there’s been a string of men coming to homes saying one thing and then doing another.” Her finger traced the edge of her door. 

She had no holy water; it was hubris, she never thought she needed it. Maybe there was a cross somewhere, but that was doubtful. She did have a rather sharp axe that wanted playtime. Siobhan sighed; the first bout of fun she’d have in this cursed town and she wasn’t even prepared for it. She’d have to scream and screaming was just so basic. It didn’t occur to her then that Metzli wasn’t safe here, that if these fools knew where they were, then the rest did. The thing about vampires was that there were always so many of them; more would come. Her mind flashed with images of vampires turning to dust; she’d remember to be concerned about her friend later. 

“You want a promise, vieja?” Manuel chuckled, it quickly turning into a collection of laughter as the others joined in. “Esta loca esta.” The group laughed harder, and Rubi had to hold back her laughter with a slap of her hand to her face. “Fine, we promise we’ll be honest with you. Just hurry up and reconsider now.” He waved at the woman, irritation mixing with Manuel’s humor enough to not get the better of him. There were so many things he wanted to do, which included tearing into that beautiful neck of hers and finding every valuable thing in her house.

“So,” Manuel squeezed the trim on the side of the doorframe, splintering it with his strength. “You gonna let us in?” Eyes flashed red, and he whistled sharply to signal to Rubi. She jumped down, landing with a dull thud next to Manuel. Her smile was too wide and crazed, and she snapped her teeth wildly at the woman they were going to eat soon. 

“Yeah. Córrale.”

“So, eager.” Siobhan clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth. “I bet you don’t last very long, do you?” The grin that split her face was almost inhumanly wide, curving up her cheeks and pushing at the corners of her clear, brown eyes. The binds of the promise clamped down; the vampire couldn’t make a promise on behalf of someone else, the ‘we’ in his sentence applied to just him, but it applied. “So what’s your name?” She asked. “And what are their names?” The vampires were confident; they weren’t used to losing. She ducked into her house for a moment, leaving the door open in a brazen display of confidence; they couldn’t get in anyway. When she came back, she held the axe firmly in her two hands. “None of you are Chuy, right?” She asked. “I hope you’ve had a fun unlife but that handsome one-armed person you’re looking for is my friend and I’d really like to be their friend for a few hundred years more.”

She stepped past the threshold of her house with one foot, grinning. “You lot better make it fun or I’m asking for a refund.” Siobhan loosened the hinge of her jaw and screamed. Birds flew off from the distant trees and her house shuddered, though, no glass broke. Siobhan had a skill for aiming, she’d always been good at it:  screams, knives, axes, insults. She could have popped one of the vampires, brushing dead organs from the inside, and leave the rest intact without ever splitting a single vase or mirror in her house, if she wanted to. She didn’t want to. What she wanted was to play.

Siobhan stepped out, closing the door behind her. She spun the axe around in her hands and stared at the group. “Why don’t you all be good little vampries and start trying to kill me—I want to work for it.” 

“¡Cállate, vieja! ¡No me hables aha si!” Anger seethed out of Manuel’s mouth, and Rubi snapped her teeth ferally, like some guard dog. She’d do the same for Master, for any person he deemed worthy to be a leader. That was her place as a pawn, just like everyone else that was his. She looked to Manuel, and then back to the woman, waiting for his response and any orders he’d give. Instead, he just let his anger keep slipping. “You got some fucking nerve.” The trim splintered further, and if he couldn’t go inside, he’d bring the outside world to the puta. 

“You’re gonna—” But before he could throw the wood into the home, Manuel’s lips moved and his tongue danced without his permission. It started out as a small tug. He fought against it, knowing if he spilled any details, he’d be royally fucked, but it happened anyway. “I’m Manuel,” Rubi hit him on the shoulder, along with Ángel and Yiri. “That’s Ángel, that’s Rubi, and that’s Yiri.” He paused, swallowing and slapping his hand to his mouth in hopes of preventing anything else from spilling. His eyes widened as this nobody dared speak of their Master so candidly. Chuy was a nickname, and no one called him that besides his friends, and they were nothing close to that. “None of us are him, and you will not refer to him as that! Master Jesus is above you, you stupid bitch!” Anger tipped over, and Manuel punched the house with enough force to break the siding. 

When the woman walked away, the whole group convened, badgering the team leader for what he’d done. Try as he might to explain, they weren’t listening, already making plans to report him to Master, much to Manuel’s chagrin. “You’re not listening! She did some…thing…” He trailed off, seeing their opponent bring back a fucking axe before her face contorted like a demon and a scream bursted everyone’s eardrums. 

What the fuck was she?

Fuck…fuck! All sound muffled, a ring piercing through while Manuel’s body went into autopilot. He was the first to spring into action, sprinting toward the woman with his knife. She swung once, then twice, and when she readied her next attack, that’s when Manuel took his chance with a tackle.

Siobhan wasn’t done testing the weight of the axe when her body tumbled down to the ground, the back of her skull knocked against one of the stone steps by her door and a sharp pain lightninged around her head. For a moment her vision popped with black dots and she felt alive; the last forty years had been all empty walls and memories that stacked on top of eachother like wet fish, flopping and slipping away. This was tangible, this was real and it hurt and in that pain, Siobhan felt more like herself than anything else. Pain she knew. Pain she liked. Pain was her kingdom. Her mouth cracked into a grin and she tightened her grip around the axe in one hand and with the other, jabbed the butt of her palm under Manuel’s chin, knocking his teeth together. When his grip slackened for just a moment, she rolled out from under him and pulled her axe up. 

“Some poetry,” Siobhan said and brought her axe down. The sharp, heavy metal easily cleaved through Manuel’s arm; bone snapped and a chunk of his humerus jutted out of his severed arm. “Aw, I missed.” She’d been trying to get it just like Metzli’s—an homage she thought the vampire would either appreciate or really hate—but she’d aimed too far up; his new stump was smaller than theirs. She swung the axe over her head to try on the other arm when her body plummeted to the ground again. This time, her axe slipped from her fingers and landed unceremoniously in the soft ground. 

“Ow.” She groaned, pins and needles shooting across her arm as she landed. Her shoulder popped—she thought that was funny, there was a literal ‘pop’ sound—and an aching warmth blanketed her. Bone grinded against bone. “You lot really love a tackle. Have you considered rugby?” Her voice was chipper and clear; whatever was happening inside of her body didn’t exist outside of it. Her smile never wavered. 

If Manuel had been whatever that crazy woman was, he was sure his scream would’ve blown hers out of the water. He wailed in agony, rolling from side to side and only catching a glimpse of his arm for a brief moment before it turned to dust. Eyes widened in abject horror, death the closest it had been since Manuel was turned. That woman was fucking nuts. What was she? Could she be stopped? Given how she landed with an audible pop with Yiri’s impact, he deduced that, yes, she probably could be. Manuel’s pain was just making him catastrophize any good strategy out of his mind before it could settle. 

“Rubi!” He barked, groaning as he let Yiri continue her barrage of blows to the screamer. Ángel joined soon after, crawling for the axe while blood trickled out of his ears. He was shaky and fell over before he could get to it, but given how shaky la gritona was, Manuel was confident his two subordinates could manage. His main concern, for the moment, was Rubi. She hadn’t so much as moved since the shockwave that ravaged their ear drums. “Rubi!” He called out again, her body unmoving. Chest tightened as anxiety coiled around Manuel, and he shuddered at the icy sensation trickling down his spine. Rubi was so eerily still. 

“Come on, you idiot.” Shaking her, he forced her body to roll over. That’s when she finally blinked, expression turning into horror. “Manuel! Manuel! No puedo oír! No puedo…!” She screamed, making Manuel’s ears ache and his shoulders drop. The motherfucker had ruptured her eardrums. Fuck! He rose rapidly to his feet, leaving Rubi behind to scream into the void while he made another attack. Grabbing the axe, Manuel swung it up into air and slammed it toward la gritona, not caring if he hurt anyone else on the way.

Siobhan grinned as the flesh of her cheeks pressed into the sharp corners of her teeth and she felt it: the hard ridges of a fist against the bones of her face. She’d always loved the inexplicable and sudden awareness of her inner anatomy. Each strike stirred pain from its long dormant slumber in her body and carried reminders of the pieces of herself that were too often numb; her rows of perfect teeth slicing the pink insides of her cheek with each punch; the muscles of her abdomen that contracted reflexively and all of their silly, Latin names rushing into her mind; the sweet, metallic taste of her blood, which filled her mouth and poured from her nose, otherwise pumping thanklessly through her body. It felt good to be alive. 

Her vision, blurred at the edges, wasn’t wholly useless yet. Siobhan saw the glint of her axe’s blade and the reflection of her bruised face with its twisted grin. Metal was a hungry substance; she thought of the standard kitchen knife and how greedily it chopped and how it begged to be sharpened so it could chop again and again. Metal was always like that, it always wanted to be used; when it was spent, dripping with filth, how readily it could be cleaned. She stabbed her good arm forward and shoved her assailant back, feeding her body to the hungry axe that Manuel held. The metal cracked through her vertebrae and pushed her sternum out the other end. It couldn’t pass all the way through the body but Siobhan knew it wanted to, she saw it in the way it pushed Yiri’s body, her sternum hanging out of her like a flip switch. Siobhan rolled out of the way as the vampire crashed down with an unsatisfied axe in her back. Bringing her a leg up to her chest, Siobhan clasped her arms around her knee and pulled back, sliding her bone back into its socket. As she rose, it still dangled limply at her side, and she felt herself missing the acute sense of misalignment, but at least she had two arms--one more than Manuel. 

Her body was a series of fires; her face was a burning swell of meat. Giddy, Siobhan skipped over to the wailing woman; a creature after her own heart. “Do you want to see something beautiful?” she asked through swollen lips. She pressed her palms to either side of the woman’s head, curling her fingers into her face. “Mind the ears.” She stabbed the tips of her fingers into the woman’s eyes. Any normal person would have ran now, which is why Siobhan didn’t give her time to: she screamed again. 

The pressure of Siobhan’s voice, directly mostly at Rubi, boiled and popped the insides of her body in a rushing chorus like faucet. Her skin bulged and tore open, expelling shards of bone and thick, blackened globs of viscera. Rubi’s head didn’t so much pop off her ruined body as her body just lacked the will to stay together. For a moment--a glorious expanse of time--Siobhan held her decapitated head in her hands, bloated and unrecognizable, and then she was dust. For another moment--a less glorious session--Siobhan considered that it wasn’t very feminist of her to have dealt with the women first. For that, she was sincerely sorry. 

What Manuel was witnessing was pure madness. Worse than anything Master Jesus could inflict, worse than anything he’d ever seen Master Eloy execute. He shuddered at the sight of the woman rising despite the very real pain she should’ve been in. She wasn’t human, and she almost certainly wasn’t a vampire. Manuel was inclined to believe that she was something else entirely; maybe even a demon. The way her jaw unhinged and her scream tore apart flesh and eardrums was enough evidence, even if his answer might be wrong. She was dangerous, and they all needed to run. 

“Rubi!” He called out, looking every which way to find his partner. Blood was in the air, twisting all thoughts into urges, hunger constricting both stomach and throat. Manuel groaned, searching and searching through the spots of black in his vision, until he landed on a sight he wished he hadn’t. Pangs of hunger ceased, overtaken with nausea. 

Rubi was being torn apart, with only the woman’s violent shriek as her weapon. “No! Stop!” But it was too late. The sound ripped through the air, dust swaying in the wind and meeting Manuel’s  tongue until he was in a coughing fit. There was nothing left of his Rubi, and Yiri and Ángel were looking to him for direction. They were surprised to be abandoned, quickly following suit and realizing the disadvantage they were in. Even with an axe in the gritona’s back, she proved dangerous, and they weren’t strong enough to handle her. 

“Fuck this!” Manuel burst into a sprint, charging away and abandoning his position as the leader. He never wanted the position in the first place, and if the rest wanted to die for a damn traitor, then so fucking be it, but not Manuel. He had some sort of self-preservation left in him, fighting for control from the thrall Master had over him. From the distance they were at, Manuel was confident he could get away and return with an explanation that Master Jesus would accept. Surely death wasn’t the only answer he’d take. At least, that was what he hoped. 

They always ran; that was why Siobhan didn’t like revealing the exploding trick too early, it always made people run away. Siobhan sighed, strutting towards the man she hadn’t harmed yet, as he ran--more like a drunk horse galloping across tar--she aimed a short, tight scream at him and watched as he tumbled down into an unconscious heap. She did the same to the woman, though she wasn’t getting far with the axe stamped into her like a flag on a mountain. She let Manuel run across her acres of lush green fields, fantasizing about the speech he’d deliver to his master. What words would he use to describe her? Though it was unlikely, she hoped ‘sexy’ fell somewhere in the mess of adjectives he’d use. 

The part of her mind that was critical--smart, intentional and strategic--had taken a long sabbatical with her common sense, her manners and, strangely, her ability to cook an egg. Siobhan missed eggs. Manuel’s body was a dot on the horizon, quickening away like a fly on a mission. He could bring more people; Siobhan thought that would be fun. He could out her as a banshee; and wouldn’t that be interesting? He could hire someone to come into the night and slit her throat and oh, she wanted someone to try it just so she could remind herself of why her strategic mind could afford a vacation. 

Instead, she reminded herself with the bodies of Yiri and Ángel, who she chained up and dismembered bone by bone--at least, she got through the phalanges and into the metacarpals and then realized it was boring and with a yawn, popped their bodies into unrecognizable particles that carried across the air and scattered into the fields. Siobhan wished Manuel would come back, preferably with more bodies and ones that didn’t turn into disappointing dust at the end of their pathetic unlife. 

Mostly, though, Siobhan couldn’t wait to tell Metzli about all the fun she’d had. 

[set-phasers-to-whump]

breathe easier

prompt: seeing double, working to exhaustion, "you look awful"

whumpee: sakari nurmi

fandom: karppi/deadwind

hiii managed to get all three in here today! hope you like it :)

It has been several days since he’s had a proper night’s sleep. He finds himself continually jolting awake every time he finally closes his eyes, and these interrupted fractions of rest make him more tired than simply not trying to sleep at all. 

It’s this case. He knows that. A husband and wife have been killed, and opinions in the department range from a double murder on one hand to a murder-suicide on the other. 

Sofia believes it’s murder-suicide. She keeps looking at him, has been doing it all week, like she thinks she’s being sneaky about it. He wonders why she doesn’t say anything. He’s sure she wants to. 

He himself hasn’t given his opinion. He does not want to - cannot let himself - be wrong. And so he’s poured all of his energy into the investigation, sacrificing his bed for his desk chair and ingesting truly horrific amounts of espresso in pursuit of the truth. 

It is Thursday morning, and he has been working for twenty-four hours straight. Not officially, of course, but still. It’s around the time when the early birds start trickling into the building. 

Sakari heads for the bathroom, splashes some water on his face, fixes his hair, then steps into the hallway amidst several of his coworkers as though he, too, has just arrived. 

He makes himself a cup of espresso. His hands shake, just a little. He ignores them. He’s exhausted, but at the same time the arrival of morning, of other people, has given him some energy. 

He sits down at his desk, sets down the espresso, and opens the file he’d been looking at a few minutes before. He thinks it might be the key, but he’s only halfway through it and cannot be sure. He needs to be sure. 

Sofia arrives a few minutes past the hour. She says good morning to him, snatches the espresso off of his desk, and sits at her own desk, folding her legs into the chair. 

Sakari looks at her. Part of him wants to laugh and part of him wants to shout. She holds the cup out to him, raises her eyebrows. 

He stands to retrieve it, and suddenly his vision blurs and doubles. He grabs onto the edge of his desk and sinks back into his chair, shutting his eyes. Fuck, he’s dizzy. 

“Nurmi?”

He opens his eyes and looks up at Sofia, or rather, at the pair of Sofias standing over him. He quickly shuts his eyes again. 

Her hand is on his shoulder, then her cold fingers touch his cheek.

“You look awful.”

He cracks one eye open. “Thanks.”

“I mean it. Are you sick? You don’t feel warm.”

He shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

“Can we not talk about this?”

“You mean, about whatever’s wrong with you?”

He opens his eyes and there is only one of Sofia. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

Sofia opens her mouth to say something else, and Sakari can’t - he can’t. 

He stands up, pushing past her and resolutely ignoring the way his head spins and his vision once again goes to shit. He’s fine, and he’s going somewhere else. Somewhere she isn’t. 

He finds himself on the break room couch, elbows resting on his knees, head buried in his hands. He feels like absolute shit. The lack of sleep has finally caught up with him, not to mention the guilt steadily building at how he’d treated Sofia. She’d been trying to help. He just - he isn’t used to that, doesn’t like it. But that’s hardly her fault. 

He should apologize. Explain himself. But he’s so tired, and the thought of standing up again seems all but impossible. 

He doesn’t have to stand up. Perhaps ten minutes pass, and then Sofia is standing in front of him with her arms crossed. He cannot read the expression on her face. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, before she can say anything. 

She blinks. “Okay. What’s going on with you? It’ll be better if you tell me.”

He shrugs, takes a breath. “I haven’t been sleeping. I just can’t.”

Sofia sits beside him. “Because of the case?”

He nods, not looking at her. “I have to - we have to find out what exactly happened.”

“Yes.”

“And I have to, be sure. Really sure.”

“Okay," she replies, and that is that.

He feels a little lighter for having told her. Like some of the weight has been removed from his shoulders. 

“I need to sleep.”

“But you can’t?”

He shakes his head. “I keep thinking.”

“Couldn’t you at least lie down?”

He shrugs. “I guess. But I keep getting back up.”

“Hm.”

It’s a problem. He does not see any way to solve it, except to solve their case. But he cannot go on like this for much longer, and the investigation still has a long way to go. 

“Would it be better if someone was with you?” Sofia asks. 

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to try something?”

“Okay.”

Sofia gets up. He thinks she means for him to follow her, but when he attempts to stand she shakes her head. “Just a second.”

He leans back against the cushions and waits. 

Sofia returns after a few minutes with her box of files and laptop, sitting beside him again. “I’ll work here, and you can rest. Then, you know someone is still looking at the case.”

He nods. This is okay. He trusts Sofia, knows how dedicated she is. Anything he’d be able to do with those files, he’s sure she’s just as capable of. It’ll be fine if he doesn’t work for a short while. It’ll be fine. 

He folds himself up on the couch and closes his eyes. He doesn’t sleep, exactly, but he lies there and listens to the keys clacking, feels Sofia’s hand absentmindedly play with his hair, and breathes a little easier. 

thanks for reading!!!! love u all <3

[my-own-walker]

Someone You've Never Seen Before

A Kyle Spencer Fan Fiction

frat!kyle AU, fem!main character, sexual themes, mature language, use of drugs and alcohol, frat boy antics

4.

The rest of the weekend went fine. I spent the majority of it dreading class on Monday. For one, I did not want to see how badly I failed Friday's quiz. Also, I especially didn't want to see Kyle. Or Kyle to see me, for that matter. It was weird that he had gone from "just some guy" to someone I couldn't stand in a matter of a day. 

When I sat in the nearly empty lecture hall, I said a silent prayer that Kyle would find himself running early today. He could find a seat next to Archie and I would have a break from him. Instead, though, I sat through an excruciating fifteen minutes of watching people trickle in, filling up the classroom in the usual arrangement. I couldn't even look at the door any longer, for fear of Kyle thinking I might be looking for him. I began doodling in my notebook, idly drawing little faces and flowers while awaiting my impending social doom.

Within seconds, it seemed, a figure slid down into the chair next to mine, landing with a thunk. I didn't dare move a muscle. As if the universe were trying to reward me, our professor began the lecture quickly. I avoided any confrontation with Kyle, at least for the time being.

I took notes rather diligently. There was no way I could stoop as low as to cheat again. Each figure, equation, and concept got hastily scribbled into my notebook. I even threw on my glasses part-way through to see the board better. I didn't wear them often, instead opting to simply sit where I could see well enough. But I meant business.

The class started to go by quickly. The professor began to speak faster in order to cram the content in before the hour was up. I could hardly keep up with the break-neck pace. While flipping my pencil over to erase something I had written, it flew out of my hand and clattered to the ground. Before I could even react, a blonde mop of hair dipped into my periphery.

"Here," Kyle whispered, presenting me with the catapulted writing utensil. 

"Thanks," I replied simply, taking the pencil so I could return to trying to not fail calculus. He smiled genuinely at me, his gaze lingering for longer than I could believe. I returned to writing, but suddenly, it was hard to focus on the task at hand. My stupid brain kept replaying his smile. The way his eyes crinkled, their deep brown color striking me. Stop, Hannah, I scolded myself.

Professor Edwards finally finished lecturing and opened up the room to questions, with just minutes until we were due to leave. I looked at my handiwork in my notebook and found that I hadn't written anything down since dropping my pencil. I covered my face with my hands and rubbed my eyes. How could I let a boy, let alone Kyle Spencer, distract me like that?

I felt Kyle turn his attention to me. In my periphery, I could see that he was looking at me periodically. I tried my best to focus on the last seconds of class time, but it was to no avail. I started packing my things up in defeat.

Kyle was up and out of his seat as soon as our professor said we could leave. I was thankful for it. If he didn't want to chance speaking to me, I sure as hell didn't want to chance it either.

+

The apartment was eerily quiet. I couldn't stand it. 

I was up late, trying to finish a piece for my poetry class. Inspiration hadn't struck me yet and I grew frustrated. It wasn't due until Friday, but if I wanted to pass a calc quiz, I'd have to finish the poem as soon as possible to focus on math for the rest of the week. I stood and stretched, padding over to my bed. The old mattress springs protested as I laid my weary body upon them. 

I stared up at the ceiling, hoping some divine intervention would give me an idea. The poetry prompt was essentially to write about love. It was the first piece that would be due in class, so the professor started with an easy assignment. Well, at least, it was supposed to be. Love is perhaps the easiest, most cliche thing to write about. I think that's why I struggled so much with it.

Out of sheer desperation, I pulled out my phone to scroll through Instagram. Maybe getting the instant dopamine rush of social media would help me feel "love" somehow. I mainly followed other kids from school. My feed was full of party photos, quotes from famous authors, and some indie "aesthetic" accounts' posts.

While scrolling, a quote from Virginia Woolf came up. I was relieved, hoping her great, old words would give me inspiration. "Just in case you ever foolishly forget; I'm never not thinking of you."   I scrolled down, kind of unsatisfied with the quote. The next photo was one posted by my friend Leon. It was a group shot of him and his frat brothers at the TKE party on Friday. In the center of the shot, stood an unmistakable blonde boy. Kyle Spencer.

I threw my phone down onto the bed next to me and groaned aloud. Why can I not get rid of this guy? Why do I see him everywhere now? I thought. I sat up and stared off, wide-eyed, at the corner of my room. I knew what I needed.

Hopping off my bed, I was careful to not make too much noise. I grabbed my laptop and shoved it into my leather messenger bag. I slid the first pair of shoes I could find on, plugged my headphones into my phone, and slipped quietly out of my room. 

My plan was to hit up my favorite late-night coffee shop on campus. The night was dark and humid, smacking me in the face as I stepped out into it. After shoving my headphones into my ears, I put the hood up on my sweatshirt and set off to my insomniac paradise. It was aptly called "Sleepwalker Coffee Co." They knew their audience well. College students need caffeine at all hours of the day.

The walk was short. We lived rather close to the shop. I discovered the place my freshman year and fell in love. When Lily and I were searching for an apartment, I practically begged her, on my hands and knees, to move into the place closest to Sleepwalker. In three years, I essentially ate and drank my way through their entire menu. I walked along the campus streets until I reached the familiar brick exterior of the shop. The door was painted a dark evergreen and held a beautiful wreath of dried flowers. When I stepped in, the warm smell of cinnamon and freshly ground coffee beans calmed my senses.

I nestled into a small booth in the corner of the place. It was unsurprisingly packed in there. Tons of students sat getting work done while fraying their nerves with cups of liquid energy. It was dark and plush in the shop. Velvet seating and dark looming bookshelves surrounded me.  Royal purple drapes hung on the windows. I took the first sip of my chai latte and sighed, smiling softly. 

The world was better at hours like this, I found. No one bothers you. The coffee shop, as busy as it was, felt like my own personal haven. I could sit in peaceful bliss, working away steadily on my laptop. At hours like this, the sky is dark, sparkling with the ethereal promise of a new day. 

Sparkling. The word hung in my mind like how low smoke hangs and swirls around your head in a dark dive bar. What sparkles? I thought. How does love sparkle? It doesn't. But someone can. Someone you love.

That was all the inspiration I needed to get my poem done.

Previous Part | Next Part

[pbandjesse]

It was super nice to have a feildtrip today. It was just so nice to not be at the desk being so bored. I had a good time. It wasn't the best day but it was still nice.

I slept a little better. I still woke up in the middle of the night but I had an easier time falling asleep. I was not feeling great physically though. My hair dried weird and I was just feeling self conscious. The outfit I chose didn't work out and I changed into something better but I was still a bit awkward feeling. I also messed up my eyeliner and was just not feeling amazing.

James gave me big hugs and helped me carry some stuff to the car. And then they said goodbye and headed to the museum. I took a minute to gather myself and then was off.

It wasn't a bad drive. James has made me a grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwich and it was good food for eating and driving. And I pulled up to camp at 8.

I would stop at the art building first. To get the staffs and the rest of my art materials. And then down to the office to warm up and work on sewing my mice.

I would get all the mice I brought finished. But I might redo how their ears are attached because I don't like how it looks. But they are super cute though and I'm very excited to have a new critter.

The group was set to arrive at 10. And everyone else slowly trickled in. I would go and set up my table and Elizabeth said I could just go wait at the amphitheater. Don't have to tell me twice.

I wandered down there and got to meet some of the donors that Alexi, Heather, and Lou were taking on a tour. They had a very sweet dog with them. And it was just nice sitting outside waiting for the group.

I heard them before I saw them. And they were so nice. The indigo group made me anxious at first but now I really enjoy them. And it's a really nice change of pace because they want everything to be built around free choice. And because of the relationships they have built with these kids it actually works pretty well. Which is great.

I would stay for the intro but it started drizzling when they started breaking into groups so Elizabeth told me I could bounce. And I would join them again after lunch.

They went on a hike and did a worksheet about seeing things in nature. And while they were all doing that I was in the office. Printing my journals for our upcoming feildtrips and learning how to change the toner in the printer.

It would take me a while to print and then fold everything. But once that was done I worked on reaching out to schools who have Native American field trips in the next few weeks. And printed those schedules for those who got back to me so that Sarah won't have trouble leading the programs while me and James are in Africa.

I had my veggie hot dog for lunch and once it was closer to 1230 I walked up to the hacienda to gather the group.

But there was a slight change and we were directed to just go straight to the field. Honestly I preferred that. I would head to the trading post and eventually Adam from indigo would join me and I showed him how to sue the printing press and it went so good!

They had planned two other projects but everyone loved my lead prints so much that that was the only thing we did. And it was messy but exciting and everyone loved using the press and the brayers and it was awesome.

When we had a little lull in the kids who were coming over Adam agreed I could go get a smore. And it was very good. He would go down next and get his own and helped them out over there. And I continued to encourage the kids to find interesting things to print. I was hoping for a feather but we would try flowers and that was fun.

A little after 2 it started drizzling so I packed up everything. The last couple kids who were printing were super into it so I waited until they were done and then put everything in my box and walked it to the car. I had to navigate around running children and I was struggling to carry the heavy bin but I did not drop it and I made it to the car without falling.

I would head to the office to answer some emails and had the rest of my lunch. Since I had set up the hacienda myself I decided I didn't have to help put it away. And would just chill at my desk and played on my phone and did some research about nonsense.

It was Celia's last feildtrips before she starts her new job next week. And she was a little emotional and I was very uncomfortable because if she cried I would cry!! I am so happy for her and this new job but man. I am going to miss working together but if I think about it to much I get very sad in a selfish way. We have talked about that a lot. How it's really sad we aren't working together anymore. But we will make a big effort to hang out more since we can't just rely on being at camp together.

I would finish up and leave not long after Celia did. And I was just really excited to go home. I was tired.

And when I got home James was right there! Hello my love! They were making me dumplings and we chatted and they would come sit upstairs with me. We would cuddle a little while they talked about their day. And eventually they went to do their podcast and I headed to my studio to sew.

I finished the second wave of mice and will do all their finishing work tomorrow. I also made all the ears I will need for them. But it was a nice hour just working.

I would come up here and went through some packing stuff. I think I have the shoes I'm going to wear picked but also I may cut one pair still. I also decided I was going to wear my backpack rather then my tote. I may change my mind again but for now I moved everything over and I'm happy about that. And it was fun just sorting my stuff. I always like that. I also chose a robe to bring as pajamas and put soms stuff in my suitcase like slips for the dresses. I can't wait to pack for real.

Now I think I'm going to go take a shower and chill for the rest of the night. James is still doing their podcast but hopefully they will be done soon.

Tomorrow is a day of getting ready for the open house on Sunday. And I am just hoping for a chill time. I hope you all have a great night. And have a fun day tomorrow. I love you all. Good night!!

[unseededtoast]

Rectify | Bucky Barnes

Part 7/37 | Part Six, Part Eight

Summary: I've lived every day for the past five years looking over my shoulder. I knew they'd come for me, it was inevitable. I was foolish to think I could outrun my past. It's followed me everywhere I go, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Never would I have anticipated that the shadows would lead me to the light.

Bucky Barnes x OC

Series Warnings: Discussion of human trafficking, alcohol consumption, graphic depictions of violence, sexual content, discussion of suicidal thoughts.

a/n: Hi everyone, thank you for checking this out, I appreciate any and all support! This series is also posted on Ao3 and Wattpad if you prefer those formats/platforms! This is a completed series, and it's going to take some time for me to transfer it to Tumblr, so please bear with me!

"You know, she was the only one at Hydra to ever tell me they were sorry, she treated me like a human, not a weapon."

The water stops trickling down the drain as I shut off the faucet and pat my mouth dry. Today's the day and I know Steve is more excited than I am. I hear him knocking on the door and go to open it for him. He walks in and I return to the bathroom, untangling my hair from last night's restless sleep. I've been eager for this day to come, I couldn't get my mind to rest very well.

"Do you think it'll go well?" Steve asks anxiously, picking at the skin on his thumb. I look at him through the mirror, poor guy has been stressed out for two weeks over this. If I had a hard time resting last night I bet he didn't even sleep. I turn to face him,

"If I didn't think he could handle it I wouldn't go through with this. He's done exceptionally well up to this point, it'll be okay Steve. I'll be there for you both. It's going to be emotional just remember to let yourself feel the emotions." I say and lay my hairbrush down on the vanity. I go to put my shoes on as Steve sighs,

"I just hope he remembers." His voice tapers at the end, worry clearly evident in his voice. I lace up my boot and look to Steve as I put the other one on.

"I'm fairly confident he will remember. It might not happen all at once, it may take some time. Just have patience." I say, hoping to ease some of his nerves and bring his high hopes down to something that is more realistic. I don't want Steve's hope to be crushed if things don't go exactly the way he wants them to. 

He starts tapping a foot on the floor and runs a hand through his hair. I can't imagine what thoughts are going through his head right now. He's about to be reunited with his best friend who he thought was dead for the past sixty or so years.  It has to feel unreal.

I lace my other boot and Steve goes to open the door, eager to get to Bucky's room. I follow Steve into the hall and down to the room we spend the majority of our time in now.

Things have smoothed out over the past two weeks for the most part. Bucky isn't as apprehensive as he first was and I think that's because we have a similar experience we can relate to each other with, along with the fact that he knows he's not in any imminent danger. Steve and I are practically joined at the hip most days, he's been one of the most welcoming and supportive people since I've arrived and I'm most grateful for him. Tony still isn't fond of me, but he tolerates me better than he first did, so I can't complain too much.

Steve stays in the hall as I walk into Bucky's room to explain what's going to happen today. Bucky sets the book he's reading aside as he sees me walk into the room, a smile on his face.

"Good morning." I smile and greet him back, not sitting in my usual spot. He looks confused as to why I don't have coffee cups in my hands and why I'm not settling in like I usually do for our morning talks.

"I have someone with me that I want you to meet. I think you two will have a lot to talk about. If it gets to be too much or you need a break, I'll be just outside the door and you can call for me." I say and take some steps backwards as Bucky nods. I walk out of the room to observe from the hall, and Steve is standing right by the door. I give him permission to go into the room and he takes one big breath before he enters. I shut the door behind Steve and cross my arms as I watch from behind the one-way glass.

Bucky stares at Steve, a mixture of emotions on his face. Steve walks slowly, approaching the grey armchair that's been placed next to the couch in Bucky's room. After Bucky was freed from the cage, Steve made sure that he had a bed and some other furniture placed in his room to make sure Bucky was comfortable.

Steve sits in the chair, the two are silent as they study one another. Steve looks nervous and Bucky looks like he's seen a ghost. I see Bucky blink a few times and tilt his head to one side.

"Steve?" Bucky asks and Steve nods his head,

"It's me, Buck." I can hear the smile in Steve's voice, and I know he's beyond ecstatic. Bucky takes a few moments, he's probably remembering something. Bucky gets a certain look on his face when he remembers things, it's a mix of confusion, anger, sadness, and sometimes, happiness. Bucky licks his lips and looks Steve over.

"You used to be small. I remember you used to put old newspapers in your shoes." Steve laughs and nods his head,

"Yeah, I used to be small. You'd have to bail me out every time I picked a fight." Steve says and I see Bucky's eyes light up, a smile on his face,

"In the alleyway at the movie theater." I see the humor between the two, their chemistry is natural. They continue sharing small moments here and there, Bucky sharing what he remembers though I can tell he's having trouble remembering some details. Steve laughs a few times, and then the room falls silent.

"You were there when I fell off the train." Bucky states and Steve somberly nods his head, running a hand over his face.

"Yeah, I was there. I thought I had lost you for good. I tried to save you, Buck." Steve says, looking down at the ground. The silence stays in the room, neither of them knew what to say. I watch as Bucky shifts around on the couch,

"Have you been out there while Adalyn comes?" Bucky asks.

"I've been out there every day." Steve confirms and Bucky nods his head.

"I have to admit, seeing her again was weird, especially at first. I really thought she had been killed, I never found out what happened to her once she escaped. You know, she was the only one at Hydra to ever tell me they were sorry, she treated me like a human, not a weapon." Bucky looks towards the glass, knowing I can hear what they're saying. It hasn't been easy for Bucky to open up about his feelings, he sometimes has a tendency to bottle it up, so hearing him say this is profound and heartwarming to me.

"She's been on the run ever since she left." Steve says. I haven't told Bucky everything that happened after I left, but I figure we'll get there in time. Besides, the mission is to get Bucky back, not recount my nomad days.

"When I first started remembering things, the first thing I remembered about her was that she put my brain in a blender. I didn't remember everything else she did for me, but when I did, it was like everything came flooding back all at once." Bucky says, and I listen intently to what he's saying, trying to understand how his memories are coming back more in depth, even though I have a pretty solid understanding already. No piece of information is too small.

"She was worried you would never forgive her, she has a hard time forgiving herself." Steve says, glancing at the glass. I chew on my bottom lip as they talk about me. Bucky shakes his head,

"It's hard to forgive yourself when you do bad things against your will." His voice is soft. Steve reaches over and places a hand on Bucky's shoulder, to which Bucky makes eye contact with Steve,

"Neither of you should blame yourself." Bucky looks at the glass I'm standing behind and just shakes his head. Not blaming ourselves is easier said than done, I'm afraid. But if anyone should be blameless for their actions, it's Bucky, not myself. Silence fills the room once again, and I decide to go in there with them. The door shuts behind me and I sit next to Bucky on the couch.

"You know, I'm really glad you two are able to reconnect. It warms my heart knowing you have this chance." I say, feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness for the two of them. Bucky smiles shyly and Steve nods his head. Steve stands from his seat as I see the watch on his wrist light up with a message.

"Adalyn, I'll catch up with you this evening. Bucky, I'll be back tomorrow morning. There's something I have to go do." I nod my head as Steve exits the room. I wonder what that's all about.

I turn my focus to Bucky who's watching Steve leave. Bucky and I look at each other, and I feel tears of joy fill my lashline, one of them running down my cheek. The moment between the two of them was beautiful, they both deserve this reunification. In those moments they were who they were back in the '40s. Two best friends with undying loyalty and love for one another. Never did I think a day would come when this would be possible. 

Bucky looks frazzled and panicked as I wipe away the stray tear and sniffle. I smile slightly, 

"I am so happy that you're able to remember, you have no idea." I say and the worry fades from his face. 

"I remember something new each day." Bucky says quietly as our eyes meet one another. 

Bucky and I have kept our conversations fairly light over the past few weeks, I've been letting him guide the conversation and talk about the things he's remembered if he wants to. I don't want to pressure him into talking about things that might be hard to process, and I don't want him to feel like he's being forced into therapy. My goal is to make our interactions beneficial and comfortable for him so that he feels confident confiding in me. 

I turn my body so I'm fully facing him and decide to give him some insight about my past. He knows relatively nothing about what my personal life was like in Hydra. He has a general understanding about my family and the dynamics there, but I've held off on speaking about my tasking related to him. 

However, I think he's strong enough to know the truth, and it's what he deserves. He deserves transparency. Plus, by telling him more and opening up I think it helps establish more trust between the two of us. I already trust him, I have no reason not to. On the other hand, he has hundreds of reasons why he shouldn't trust me and I need, and want, to erase each and every one of those reasons.

"When I was tasked with perfecting the programming in your mind I was told to make you a blank canvas. Apparently Zola had left too many holes in his programming and it wasn't enough for my father. He wanted me to wipe your mind of everything but the basic functions of life. I couldn't bring myself to do it, I couldn't erase who you are, who you were. I saw the look in your eyes and when I pressed that button on stage that night, I knew I had done something awful. I saw how they treated you and it was all because of me. And now seeing you remember things from the past is just so surreal to me, I am so grateful you have this opportunity." I see him process the information. It can't be easy hearing these things, and truth be told they aren't any easier to say out loud.

"You didn't have a choice. Please, don't blame yourself for what they made you do. It's because of you and the choice you made that I can remember." He says, looking into my eyes with his baby blue ones. I let the silence take over, though it's a comfortable silence. I don't know what to say to that, I'm not sure the words exist to convey what I feel. 

He's told me I shouldn't blame myself for what I did on more than one occasion but it never gets easier to accept those words or forgive myself. The hatred I have for my past actions runs far too deep for me to be able to forgive myself. 

"What records did they bring you?" I break the silence after a few minutes and walk over to the record player that sits on the table. 

Steve requested that it be put there, saying it helped him adjust to modern life while still having a piece of the old days. Bucky follows me over and places the needle on the record that's already in place. There's a light crackling sound that fills the space as the record rotates. I hear the guitar and piano start, followed by a man's low voice that fills the room. It's a slow, rhythmic song. Bucky takes my hand and leads me to the middle of the room. I look at him confused, not understanding what he's doing.

"Back in my day I loved going out to dance." He places his right hand on my waist and intertwines my fingers with his metal ones, though I can tell he's being cautious about grabbing my hand with his metal one.

"I've never danced a day in my life." I admit, feeling nervous about this. Bucky and I had grown closer over the past couple weeks, but not physically. He smiles as he places my left hand on his shoulder.

"Just follow my lead, I promise it's easy." He says and I have no choice but to listen to him. He begins stepping in time to the music. He steps left, keeping a firm, yet gentle, grasp on my waist as he leads me with him. The music plays comfortingly in the background as I focus on not stepping on his toes, knowing I would embarrass myself.

"Relax, you're doing just fine." His raspy voice says quietly as the next song starts playing. I look up at his face, and see that his eyes are closed, he looks at peace. I've never seen him truly at peace until now, his features are soft and relaxed. I follow his steps, becoming more comfortable and confident with each stride. We continue dancing until the record stops, and Bucky untangles our fingers from one another and takes a step back.

"That was nice, I've missed dancing." He says and lifts the needle off the record. He turns to face me,

"You know when Steve and I went dancing together, sometimes I'd end up dancing with his date. Poor guy, he was always so polite to them." He shakes his head, recalling the memory. I smile,

"So you stole your best friend's dancing date?" I ask playfully and he shrugs.

"I wouldn't say I stole them, it was more of a brief borrowing." He tries to justify it and I roll my eyes,

"I'm sure Steve saw it differently." I say, trying to envision Bucky back in the '40s sweeping Steve's date off her feet. Bucky starts flipping through a few different records, and I remember I have to meet Bruce in the lab.

"Hey Bucky, I'll be back tomorrow, I have some lab work I need to do." I say and he nods, giving a small wave.

"See ya tomorrow, bring your dancing shoes." He smirks and I shake my head,

"We'll see about that." I walk out of the room, content with how the day went. I make my way to the lab, and wonder where Steve went off to. I open the door to the lab and see Bruce sitting there, working on a pair of sunglasses.

"Hey Adalyn." Bruce pauses from his work and I sit down across from him.

"Hey Bruce, any luck?" I ask and he shakes his head. He places his glasses on top of his head and rubs his eyes.

"No, to be honest I don't know if it will work. We've been trying for the past week and a half, but Tony won't give up." I glance at the glasses that Tony has named BARF, which stands for binarily augmented retro-framing. 

The idea was to take control of one's hippocampus to alter aspects of a memory. I successfully discouraged Tony from replacing his traumatic memories, and after days of convincing, he finally agreed to not try to wipe out his memories and settle for alteration instead. I agreed to help them with this project on those terms and thankfully Tony hasn't tried to steer away from them.

"Let me see." I say and walk over to where the glasses are. I look at where the lasers are pointed, and try the glasses on. I look at the computer that the glasses are synced to, and notice that the measurement is off. I place the glasses on the counter and look at Bruce.

"Well, the issue here is that these are aimed at the amygdala, not the hippocampus. If you tweak the lasers to aim half an inch back, I think you'll be right on the money." I say and Bruce looks at me incredulously.

"But we checked and double checked that it was aimed at the hippocampus." He says, joining my side and picking up some tools to adjust the lasers. I shrug, not knowing what else I can offer,

"I don't know Bruce, maybe you need to take a break." I suggest, knowing he's been working tirelessly on this project. Since Tony and I are on better terms, he's agreed to let me use this project for my use as well. I think once Bucky's free from the room it can help him work through some of the more difficult memories and emotions, but only if he wants to try it.

"Maybe you're right. I'll make the adjustment and then call it a night." Bruce says and I nod my head, deciding to head out for the night. I walk back to my room and take my boots off. Today went better than I had anticipated, I'm glad Steve and Bucky were able to reconnect. I'm happy that Bucky's memories are coming back with ease, I can't say as though I anticipated it happening as easily as it is.

I get ready for bed and turn the light off in my room. In the morning I'll meet with Steve before we go to see Bucky since he never got around to meeting me this evening. I think we can start talking about bringing Bucky out of the room. 

I think he's stable enough to be out, there have been no instances of him phasing to the Winter Soldier or even showing Soldier tendencies. He's doing a phenomenal job at handling the memories that come back and I don't think he poses any sort of threat. However, I know that convincing Fury of this is going to be a daunting task, and I'll need Steve's support in it.

[whispersafterdusk]

Heart of Stone - ch 9

Finding anything in a sandstorm was like...trying to find something in a sandstorm -- more or less a fruitless endeavor, so it was a good thing Unsuur hadn't yet decided on what to use in place of the heart knot as the chances of him actually locating it would have been very slim while the sand was flying around like this. And one thing he'd promised himself today, as he'd walked and thought and walked some more, was that he wasn't going to say anything to Dawn about his crush on her until he had that knot replacement in hand and was ready to bare his soul and hope for the best. It was going to be hard to keep quiet but he didn't want to ruin his chances by being unprepared. ((Continued below cut))

Unless...what if she brought it up first? If she'd noticed the effect she had on him with just her smile or a touch (or that kiss to the cheek - that was something he couldn't think about unless he was alone because he started grinning like an idiot when he did) would she say something? And if she did, would it be something positive? It would have to be...right? She'd kissed him, after all. If she admitted she had a crush on him first that would be the best day ever -- oh, wait, would Arvio refuse to sell her a heart knot too? You didn't NEED a heart knot to tell someone you liked them but it was a lot easier to offer one and know without a doubt the recipient knew what you meant. Guess he'd better keep that in mind when he was picking what to use in place of the knot...

The sandstorm had died down by early evening which left a narrow window of time between the weather clearing and when they were having dinner at Dawn's. Unsuur was able to squeeze in a quick shower and put on a clean shirt (that he covered up with his uniform jacket anyway) then met Justice outside his house and walked with him to the saloon. Owen was behind the bar leaning against the bar top chatting with Grace, who was sitting on one of the stools on the other side, when they walked in. Both greeted them and Grace excused herself to the kitchen to pack up whatever Justice had ordered for tonight.

"You know, with the storm passed I don't necessarily need to close early -- usual evening crowd might trickle in," Owen said as Justice sat down at the counter.

"Appreciate it but I'd hate to change plans again - especially this close to them. Plus, smells like you already have everything made," Justice replied.

Unsuur dropped onto an empty stool to wait; Justice had insisted tonight would be his treat and he had no idea what he'd ordered. He could smell something tangy and meaty wafting from the kitchen and as he'd (unintentionally) skipped lunch his stomach growled quietly, even though he usually didn't care much for meat-heavy dishes.

"Has word spread about the moisture farm yet?" Justice asked.

Owen walked the length of the bar to collect a tray of clean glasses. "Couldn't tell you -- not sure who heard about it yesterday and then that storm did a good job at keeping everyone home. I imagine after today it'll be all folks'll be talking about. Dawn - and Mi-an too! - did an amazing job."

"Yeah, that they did," Justice agreed.

Unsuur rested an elbow on the bar and put his chin in his hand; Dawn HAD done an amazing job, and had almost worked herself to death to do it. He really hoped she'd have time to rest and recover, and get proper recognition for all she'd done. "Amazing" described her so well...

He quickly steered himself away from that particular line of thought. "What did you order for us, sheriff?"

"Some sweet and sour tenderloin, Highwind fried rice-"

"-hopefully Dawn finds my take on it acceptable," Owen interrupted with a laugh as he began to put the glasses away behind the bar.

Justice snickered. "Scared of falling short in front of a Highwind native?"

"Hey, it's not often someone from there travels all the way to Sandrock. If I'm going to be serving one of their signature dishes I'd like it to be, well, of their liking!"

"And," Justice went on, shooting Owen a smirk, "some potato salad. Dawn and Mi-an both said they'd provide drinks and Heidi wanted to bring something sweet."

That all sounded ok, though it wasn't yellow soup with lemons. ...he wondered if Dawn had ever tried it.

"Here you go, guys," Grace announced as she came out of the kitchen with two bags in hand. "And try not to tilt them -- not unless you want to leave a trail of sauce from here to Dawn's."

"Now that would just be a waste," Justice said, standing to take the bags. "Thanks, you two. See ya."

He was careful to scoot his stool back in close to the bar as he stood to follow Justice out. "Bye."

As they headed for the tracks Unsuur spied Cooper over on his front porch unpacking a large crate; the brightly colored canvas coming out of it was very familiar -- he'd almost forgotten about the Running of the Yakmel. With the storms causing delays, Logan holding up the train, and then the moisture farm being attacked the event had been pushed out to the next season so it was going to be a chilly festival this year. Unsuur didn't participate in the riding part (he preferred his horse, yakmel were too temperamental for his liking) but he enjoyed watching the controlled chaos in the ring. Did Highwind have anything like that? He should ask Dawn.

Oh, wait. Seeing Cooper had reminded him. "Did you ever find the missing horses?" he asked Justice.

The sheriff shook his head. "Neither hair nor hide of them. My best guess is either one of the villages around here has 'mysteriously' acquired some new horses, or they wandered off and got eaten by something. Ranch is right by the Valley, lots of rockyenarolls out that way and it wouldn't be the first time Cooper lost an animal to one of their packs."

"That's true. And unfortunate. I bet Elsie is upset."

"Not much we can do, pardner. Just a part of life living out here," Justice sighed.

Unsuur nodded; they were almost to Dawn's gate now. The yard was quiet (it was weird seeing everything off after days of constant use) and he spotted movement at the window as they stepped into the yard. The front door opened as they reached it and they both had to quickly step back as Amirah came out of it.

"Hello Justice, Unsuur," was her simple greeting.

"Hey Amirah. Not chasing you off, are we?" Justice asked.

She shook her head. "No, not at all. I knew you were all coming - Mi-an is already here. I was just dropping something off anyway. Enjoy your dinner date."

Date. Unsuur looked down at his boots and mumbled a goodbye as Amirah slipped between him and Justice and walked across the yard. It took a moment to notice Justice had headed inside and the door was still standing open; he hurried in and was careful to shut the door gently behind him.

Mi-an was at the kitchen table; along with the two chairs that matched the table he recognized the two stools Dawn had had at her jewelry workbench, and there was another smaller, armless chair that he didn't recognize -- they were currently clustered around the little table and as he wondered how they'd all fit he noticed the couch had been turned around and almost pushed up against the bookshelf, the low table usually in front of the couch was now over near the bed, and the makeshift work table from outside had been brought inside and covered with a white sheet (it WAS just a flat panel on legs, no reason why a work table couldn't also be a food table).

On the kitchen table was an open canvas sack with what looked like marbles spilling out of it, if the marbles had been cut in half. Mi-an was admiring a handful of them but as Justice approached with the food she quickly switched to sweeping them all back into the sack to give him room to set the bags down.

"Hi you two! Heidi is running a bit late -- the plan is to put the food on this table and we'll all have room to eat at the other," Mi-an said with a smile.

"Where's Dawn at?" Justice asked as he set the bags down.

"She had to run something over to Mabel. Should be back really soo- ha, see," Mi-an cut herself off with a giggle as the door opened and Dawn swept in.

She looked a lot less tired than when he'd last seen her but not entirely rested; she had a large, serrated kitchen knife in hand that was missing the handle and she gingerly moved passed them to set it on the counter.

"Hi guys - sorry, Mabel broke a knife and asked to borrow one of mine until I can get a new handle put on the one she broke. Hopefully you didn't bring anything tonight that needs carving," she laughed, looking at the bags sitting on the table.

"Nothing a regular ol' steak knife can't handle. What's in the sack?" Justice asked, untying the first bag. The meaty smell wafted out in full force.

Dawn reached around Mi-an to grab the aforementioned sack. "Amirah and I came to an agreement that I'd use broken bits and cast offs from her work to create some unique pieces of jewelry to sell. We'll start off by splitting the profits but when we both have the time to spare we'll switch over to teaching each other our respective crafts." She dipped her hand in and pulled out a handful of the half-marble looking things then dropped them into Justice's open hand. "First up: glaze drips. I can turn them into earrings, or set them into a pendant or on a ring like I would a gem."

Justice held one up to the light; blue and white were swirled together like a sky with wispy clouds. "Huh. Look at that."

Unsuur plucked one from his hand and looked at it; if it was a fired gloop of glaze that explained why it looked like half a marble. This one was a bright orange flecked with green, about the size of the tip of his pinky finger; he could picture it set into a simple gold band. If he were in Amirah or Dawn's place he probably wouldn't think much about the drips or the pieces that broke... Dawn could see even sand's worth and now she'd have something new to turn into something beautiful. He really admired that.

Her fingers brushed against his as she took the glaze bit back, dropping it back inside the sack before tying it shut and tossing it onto her bed. "Heidi should be along shortly. Have a seat, make yourselves at home. Would you guys prefer some tea, juice, water?"

Justice grabbed one of the chairs and turned it to face the makeshift table before dropping into it. "Water for me, thanks."

Mi-an went to move the other chairs and stools to the makeshift table; Dawn opened up her fridge and took out two pitchers, with a large glass jar with a spigot toward its bottom also visible inside. The jar held a dark liquid that Unsuur assumed was the tea, and he knew that water pitcher from before.

He took a few steps forward, being careful not to get in her way or bump her. "Want some help?"

His stomach did a little flip at her smile as she handed him the two pitchers. "Thanks. We can keep these on the table with us but the tea will have to sit on the counter."

After setting the water and sandberry juice pitchers on the table he went back and helped her carry the glasses, plates, and cutlery to the table as well. Right as he'd placed the last fork there was a knock at the door; Dawn let Heidi in, directing her to leave her plate of sand jujube cakes on the kitchen table with the rest of the food.

"Well, now that we're all here, dig in!" Dawn laughed, lowering herself onto a stool with a glass of tea.

It seemed like she was going to let everyone else go first; Unsuur didn't think that was especially fair considering all the work she'd done lately and remained in his seat. When it was down to just the two of them he and Dawn both gestured at the other at the same time, drawing a small laugh out of her.

"Go on. Guests go first."

"But you've done a ton of work lately."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "So have you. Don't think I can't see how tired you look, or that I don't notice how often you pass by on your patrols."

Unsuur was suddenly aware of attention on him; out of the corner of his eyes he could see Justice grinning at him, and Mi-an and Heidi both sharing a knowing look.

Dawn must have noticed as well as her face tinged pink. "I-I mean that for both you and Justice. With the hydrogel fixed I can finally sleep in a little but you two are still burning the candle at both ends."

"Luckily, not for much longer," Justice said with a quick chuckle. "A subject I'll get to when we've all eaten."

When Unsuur still didn't budge Dawn sighed in defeat and stood, leaving her glass on the table and picking up her empty plate instead; she didn't take much - almost like she wanted to sit back down as quickly as possible - but he didn't go to fill his own plate until she had.

He wasn't the biggest fan of the tenderloin but the fried rice was something he'd not had a reason or chance to try before and it was pretty good (so was the potato salad). It was a leisurely dinner and once they'd finished the meal and had some of the jujube cake Unsuur helped Dawn clear away the dishes; she scraped them clean (all the bits went into a compost bucket) and then stacked them all neatly in the sink, and once they had sat back down Justice nodded to Heidi.

At the nod Heidi pulled out a packet of folded blue paper from an inner pocket of her blazer and began to spread it across the cleared table.

"So, here's the situation," Justice started. "The geeglers are holed up in Gecko Station, when they aren't hassling Sandrock. I was going to get a group together to go flush them out and drive them away but the other day I spotted a geegler prying a piece of Shonash Bridge loose and running off with it! Had Heidi here do a quick assessment and there's more than just that one piece gone, and no telling how recent the damage is either since I only just caught one in the act -- the thought of walking over that bridge now gives me the willies. I don't think it's very stable right now, so I needed a plan B."

Mi-an leaned forward, eyes wide. "They're stealing parts of the bridge?! Why? What'll happen if the train goes over it now?"

"No idea. I already let Jensen know - luckily we haven't had any trains from that direction this week, and until we figure out the extent of the damage we can't risk any trains going over that bridge. It'll delay pretty much everything rail-related but I'd rather we have to wait an extra week or two for our water shipment than risk a derailment into that canyon."

This was the first Unsuur was hearing of the missing bridge bits and a sense of dread hit him; it would be unimaginably bad to lose a train like that. What could the geeglers want with the parts? "So how do we get across?"

Heidi laid her hands, palms flat, over the blueprints to smooth them out and hold the top corners down. The blueprints were sideways from Unsuur's perspective but he could see what looked like a suspended cart sketched out and some measurements written all around it.

"There's a tram system left over from the early days of Sandrock," she explained. "The cables are still there and looked to be in serviceable condition when Justice and I checked them. We do have a couple of problems though: first, there's no tram carts. Second, the engine to move them is broken AND on the other side of the canyon."

Dawn pointed from herself to a blueprint and Heidi lifted her hands to let her tug one toward her, where the builder then flipped it upright and disappeared behind the paper. "So first we'll need the tram carts... With everything left over from the hydrogel I could probably knock one out in a day, two tops."

"Me too," Mi-an chirped, leaning over to look at the page Dawn held. "Are these the original plans?"

"Copies of them," Heidi answered. "Qi still had them in his collection but didn't want to give me the originals. I had him alter them a bit so we can hand crank the carts over the canyon, and these other plans here are for the engine repairs when you're across."

Mi-an sorted through the blueprints and took half of them, then began folding them back up while Dawn remained hidden behind the one she was studying.

"Thanks pardners, just let me know when you're done," Justice said. "I'd hate to rush you but I don't know how long our water will last if we have to ration it on such short notice."

"I definitely think we can get it done in two days, howabout you?" Mi-an grinned, nudging the still-hidden Dawn gently with an elbow.

"Absolutely. But, once we get the carts done did you have the other half of this plan thought out?" Dawn asked, peering at Justice from over the top of the blueprint a breath later; it was unbearably cute. Unsuur drained his glass of water and turned his attention to Justice before his face gave anything away.

"The other half of the plan is while you two builders get the engines fixed Unsuur and I are going to scout around for an ideal entry point. Then, we head back into town, grab Pen and whoever else is feeling up for a fight, and run those geeglers off."

"And then afterward we repair the bridge," Dawn said into the pause that followed, with Mi-an nodding beside her. "Easy peasy."

"That's the pl- er, the idea," Justice laughed. He got up with a groan. "-I think I hear bed calling - been a long...however long. Y'all have a good night."

"I guess it is kind of late," Mi-an said. "If we get a nice and early start on these carts it might not even take a day." She stood and after tucking her blueprints into the front of her overalls she went to pick up the jar of tea, carrying it in the crook of her elbow.

Dawn quickly threw back the last gulp of tea in her glass, moved her copies of the blueprints to the couch, and got up as well. "Well, thank you Justice and Heidi for bringing the food and dessert. Oh, and before you go, Unsuur - over on the coffee table are some paint samples. Could you have a look and let me know if any of them are what you were wanting?"

"Sure," he answered.

Dawn scooted around the table to go open the door for the others; as they said their goodbyes Unsuur moved over to the coffee table where eight painted strips of paper were sitting pinned under tiny glass pots of paint. Five were darker, three were lighter; there wasn't a ton of difference between the darker ones if he was just comparing them in the pots but he could pick out the hues better in the dried samples. He chose the second-lightest color as well as the darkest and set them aside. As he turned around he started in surprise as Dawn was right there -- he almost walked into her.

She jumped a bit too. "Sorry! I guess I walk too quietly."

"That's ok. It's your house - you can walk as quietly as you want."

She laughed at that and leaned around him to pick up the pots he'd chosen. "I'm sorry to keep having to push the paints out. It'd be nice to go at least a week without something dire happening."

"I'm in no rush, so you don't have to apologize."

"I still feel bad though."

"Don't," he said softly. "It's really not a big deal."

She smiled shyly up at him, then hurried to set the pots on the counter. "Are you able to go to bed at a reasonable hour tonight or do you have to complete your rounds still?"

...he actually wasn't sure. Justice hadn't said anything about what they'd be doing AFTER dinner but if he was going home to go to bed, surely that meant Unsuur could too? "I think I can just go home." Doesn't mean I want to at the moment. "Would you like help with the dishes before I go?"

"It's not a lot and won't take me long, don't worry. You need some rest," she giggled. "I wasn't lying when I said I could tell how tired you are."

"...I am. But I don't mind helping, or staying if you want the company."

"H-haha. Well... Any other time I-I wouldn't say no to your company but...you can't take care of Sandrock if you're not taking care of yourself. I would much rather you get some rest than waste what little time you have on me."

"Spending time with you isn't a waste," he replied - perhaps a bit too quickly. "I enjoy it."

Her face tinged red. "I'm glad to hear it, and that was probably a poor way to have worded that. Anyway, um...sentiment still stands. It's too easy to make mistakes if you're tired."

"Didn't you tell Yan you went-"

Dawn rubbed her hands down her face as she turned a deeper shade of red. "-ok, ok, yes, I'm a hypocrite," she laughed. Her voice was muffled behind her hands. "But the difference here is I'm not marching off to fight giant lizards! A slip up on a machine might lose me a finger but if a geegler gets the best of you..." She trailed off and then slowly let her hands fall away. That look of earnest concern made him melt a little inside. "I don't even want to think about it. Please go get some rest?"

"...all right." He didn't know what else to say.

Well, no, there were things he wanted to say, but he'd promised himself.

The concern gave way to relief. "We'll have time once these dumb geeglers are gone... Time for your paint, time for combat lessons, and I still have to show you those stretches."

"I'm looking forward to it." Smiling, Unsuur wove his way around the chairs and the kitchen table and headed for the door with her padding along beside him. Inside him was an odd sensation that was hard describe; her being worried, caring about him, wanting to spend time with him, it made him feel...lighter. Combined with that familiar fuzziness where he'd felt made of lead earlier now he didn't feel so weighed down with exhaustion, and there were words that wanted to bubble up and burst out of him if he wasn't careful.

What would be better than a heart knot...? He needed an answer.

She unexpectedly caught his arm as he stepped through the doorway, gently tugging him to a stop. Had she changed her mind about wanting company?

"Um, t-thank you. For your jacket the other night - that was really kind of you," she said quietly. She was looking down at their feet but her hand remained wrapped around his bicep. "It was a... a nice surprise to wake up to." After a moment she glanced up to him with a teasing look. "Seems I'm not the only one who walks around quietly. I didn't hear you at all."

It took every ounce of willpower he had to not rest his hand over hers. "I did think about waking you so you could go to bed in an actual bed but with how tired you looked and how hard you were working... I thought you'd be mad at me if I did."

The little laugh she let out was quiet, warm; that teasing look turned tender and he was ready to melt straight into his boots. "Not mad, exactly...probably crabby, but not at you. Just from a lack of sleep in general." She squeezed his arm and let go. "Speaking of which, I hope you sleep well."

"I'll try." He backed away a few steps and turned to go, then turned back around almost immediately. "How did you know it was my jacket?"

That bottom lip went between her teeth again and it was several breaths before she answered. "...Justice doesn't patrol this area, and if it wasn't his then it had to be yours."

That was true; his and Justice's patrol routes overlapped in some places, just not on that side of the tracks. And, really, she had a 50/50 chance of getting it right too...and yet...she looked like she'd wanted to say more but had thought better of it. Was that really it? He COULD press for more detail... But perhaps now wasn't the time for that. He simply said goodnight and didn't hear her front door close until he was through the gate.

---------------------------------

Dawn had her tram cart completed by early evening, and Mi-an was done soon after as well; throughout the day each time Unsuur passed by her yard there were more pieces completed and stacked on a flatbed cart to be toted over to the cables - far fewer pieces than the hydrogel had required so they wouldn't need a big group to get them moved. After he'd been notified of their completion Justice gave both himself and Unsuur the rest of the evening off so they could get to bed early, to be better rested for their scouting (and possibly combat) mission in the morning.

Though he was technically off the clock Unsuur did one final pass along the tracks and Cooper's ranch (he'd spotted some roosters that needed shooing) and as he paused at the train station he could see Dawn in her yard working on -- that was the jewelry workbench she was sitting at. Was she already using those glaze drips? He was actually curious about what she was going to do with those.

The jewelry work station was closer to the back fence line so rather than coming in unannounced through her gate he walked around to the rear of the fence. She was hunched over whatever she was doing until he got close, when she sat up straight and looked around; when she spotted him she smiled and waved at him with a tool in hand.

"Hello! Done for the day?"

He nodded as he came up to the fence near her, resting his elbows on the top and leaning. "Justice wants us all in bed early tonight so we'll be ready for tomorrow. What are you making? Are you using those glaze drips?"

She shook her head. "No, not yet. Just a few simple pendants and brooches -- Amirah mentioned my old pal 'the Mysterious Man' should be back in town in a week or so. Before I really throw myself into making new pieces I want to get an agreement in place with him again."

"Again?" he repeated.

"Yeah...again. It's...a bit of story."

Unsuur never really paid the man much attention; the few times he'd looked at the man's wares he'd never found anything of interest but now he was wondering if he'd seen Dawn's work in the past before they ever met. "I like stories. You don't have to share if you don't want to though." That got him a quiet chuckle and a smile that he could see didn't quite reach her eyes in the second before she looked down at her lap. "-I mean that literally, not in some reverse-psychology-trick sort of way," he added quickly.

Her laugh was much more genuine. "Well I didn't think you did, so no worries there. No, it's more -- you could say he's the reason I was able to attend the builder's school. He helped me raise the funds, so to speak."

Now Unsuur was wracking his brain, trying to remember if he'd ever taken note of any jewelry. "He bought your jewelry? I think he buys Amirah's pottery too since I see him carrying it sometimes."

"He bought my jewelry and everything else I brought him," Dawn replied quietly. "He didn't have to, but he did. And that gave me enough gols to afford the ticket to Atara and my first year at school."

Based on her tone there was definitely more to that story, but he again wasn't certain if he should ask about it or just let it go. He chose the safer option. "He comes by every month so if you don't catch him this month there's always next, and the months after that."

"Yeah, he did the same in Atara. It hasn't been THAT long since I last saw or sold anything to him so hopefully he won't be against picking up where we left off." She rubbed the back of her wrist across an eyebrow; he could spy a glint of pink held in her hand - maybe that opal he'd seen before? "I just need to have a decent stock built up before he gets here. He always liked to hem and haw and pick through things even when he bought everything I had..."

"Be careful not to overwork yourself again. Nights can get dangerously cold here in autumn and winter so if you fall asleep outside again at best you can expect to get sick."

"Well, then, I guess you'll just have to wake me up next time and make me go to bed," she teased.

He smiled and straightened. "If you promise you won't be crabby. Or I could leave you my jacket again."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I can't give any promises on expected levels of crabbiness but I'll try to keep it in mind. What time is it anyway...?"

"Not very late but we should probably head to bed."

Dawn blinked at him and quickly turned back to her work bench, her face a bright red; for a moment he didn't understand why, but then replayed his words in his head and-

"I mean- uh. To our beds."

"Y-yes. We do have a uh, an early day tomorrow," she mumbled. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah. Good night. Bye," he said, spinning on his heel and marching off at a quick pace.

Dang it...he hadn't meant it like that. Or hadn't purposely meant it like that. Now all he could think about was cold desert nights and warm bodies under a blanket-- His bed wasn't even big enough for two people, he didn't need to be imagining things.

...her reaction definitely hadn't been his imagination though, so maybe she was thinking about it too.

When he got home he set his alarm for an hour earlier than usual and after he'd put his sword by the door he crawled into bed. Life should get a lot easier once the geeglers were gone and he could put his energy toward finding something suitable to use in place of a heart knot.

----------------------------------

"All right, we all ready to go?"

Unsuur and Justice had gotten up before sunrise and had helped first Mi-an then Dawn move the tram cart pieces over to the cables, then had provided muscle or an extra hand as needed while the two builders got the carts assembled and installed. They looked pretty nice hanging there - shiny and new, almost sparkling in the early morning sun.

"I think we are," Mi-an answered, dusting her hands off and returning a screwdriver to the tool box she'd brought. "Everything looks good from this side."

Dawn had worn a tool belt instead of bringing a box, and had strapped her sword across her back. "My only concern at the moment is how windy the ride might be. We won't tip over but depending on how hard the wind is blowing it might not be the smoothest of rides."

"It just has to get us across," Justice laughed. "Right, now - one thing Heidi suggested, just out of an abundance of caution, is to keep the weight even between the two carts. Based on the engine parts we've got, the tools you're carrying, and our weapons along with ourselves, that puts Unsuur and Mi-an in one cart and Dawn and I in the other."

Over the top of Dawn's head Justice mouthed 'sorry' at him, and he did look appropriately apologetic; Unsuur frowned but the sheriff was probably right -- Justice preferred a large and heavy hammer as his melee weapon of choice. That thing alone probably weighed more than the tool box and engine parts combined, and Dawn was smaller than Mi-an was. No matter how disappointed he was with the facts it did make sense to put her with Justice.

They filed into their respective carts and Unsuur began to crank the handle; the tram lurched forward and did start to sway quite a bit as they got away from the platform and out over the canyon into the wind. He could hear a soft grinding noise and some clicking coming from the gears as he worked the crank; Mi-an didn't seem concerned by any of the mechanical noises he was hearing so he kept turning it until he heard a high-pitched 'ting!' noise, and an odd metallic twang -- it made him think of Cooper plucking a wrong note on his guitar but it rapidly changed from one twang to several in quick succession along with a shrieking noise and then an incredibly loud snap, and with a dawning sense of horror he realized those noises weren't coming from the tram cart he and Mi-an were in.

Across from them - right in front of them - the second tram cart shuddered in mid-air for a split instant as the cable it was hanging from gave way from the other side of the canyon and came whipping toward the cart as it began to plummet; it collided with the front panel of the cart with a thundering thud that was drowned out by the startled screams of both Justice and Dawn as it fell, followed by the sound of glass shattering and stone and metal busting apart beneath the cart's weight as it slammed into the corner of the roof of a ruined building about twenty feet down from the canyon's lip and disappeared into the darkness inside.

"No... Oh no..." he whispered. At some point he'd taken his hands off the crank and stepped to the tram cart's side, where he was gripping the top of the side panel so tightly his fingers were actually hurting. He didn't even remember moving.

The tram listed slightly to that side as Mi-an stepped up beside him. "What do we do? What do we do?!"

"We-" Come on, think...think... Dawn, Dawn was- and Justice, too-- No, don't think about THAT, think about-- What COULD they do? Even if they got across the ca- oh man, they NEEDED to get across before this cable had the chance to fail too; there wasn't a roof or building underneath his and Mi-an's cart. Unsuur seized the handle and began to crank it as fast as he dared. "We need to get across. And-" And then what? "-and, and find a way down. Or inside. Both. That's part of Gecko Station down there. If we can find a way inside we can find them."

Mi-an looked white as a sheet but nodded at him and moved more toward the middle of the tram cart to even out the weight; they got across without a sound -- not from each other, not from the tram cart, and not from the cable. Mi-an was shaking as they both hopped out of the tram cart and onto the far platform.

The platform looked well-weathered and had piles of sand and dust all over, which made the fresh geegler tracks everywhere all the more apparent.

"Someone cut the cables...or tried to. Look-"

Unsuur tore his attention away from the tracks and followed Mi-an's finger as she pointed over his head to where two sets of two gigantic iron pulley wheels were mounted high up on the walls of the building that housed the broken tram cart engine; the one on Dawn's side was... Without a cable. And the one that had managed to hold him and Mi-an up looked like a frayed rope -- the cable was made of lots of thinner metal cable twisted together and someone, or someTHINGS, had attempted to cut through it but had either given up or thought they'd done a good enough job.

Geeglers. They somehow figured out the plan, though HOW they'd figured it out wasn't important right now.

"We need to look for a way inside," Unsuur said, trying to keep the dread and panic out of his voice.

Mi-an nodded, but then shook her head a breath later. "I should fix the cable before it completely breaks or else we'll be trapped over here with no way to get help."

...that was a good point. "All right. But be careful. Yell for me if you see any geeglers."

With that he took off running down the nearby stairs; he doubted he'd find a safe way inside this high up on the building but kept his eye out for any obvious openings as he went. The stairs and walkways he was sprinting along wound back and forth along the eastern side of the station all the way down to what had once been the entrance to the ruins but had been boarded up and blocked off for ages now by the geeglers. He could...probably break his way through. He had to, or else they would have to figure out how to scale the cliff down to where the tram cart had busted through the roof, and then down however far it had fallen after that, and--

His breath was burning in his lungs as he leapt over the railing and hit the ground, throwing himself into a roll to break his momentum. He was down at ground level. There HAD to be some way inside from here. There...there had to be. Please let there be some way inside...

[lifesfeelings]

The Actual Birthday

So I feel like after last nights little freak out, I should update on the actual day itself…. So the whole day was just stressful because of course I got myself worked up about not getting to actually fulfill my plan and like kinda sad I only was there for the party. But so I show up, and I’m the only one there so far (other than one of his roommates). He takes my gifts and is like “I know it’s awkward to open gifts so do you want me to save them?” And I told him he had to open the bigger one around me because I needed to explain. So he opens it, and it’s a print in a frame. His favorite movie is “Blue Velvet” and so I got a print of the opening images of the roses which he said he has wanted months ago. I thought it would be it, but he said he might as well do it all. He opened the other two, a pack of vape pods which he was ecstatic about, and a James Baldwin book which is his favorite author (also he’s an English major so kinda both our things). He’s like, “stand up for me” and I do and he rushes me for a hug which like… Jesus Christ… he’s like “I don’t even know know. You have me so flustered” and he said he’d save the letter which thank god. The rest of the night was pretty uneventful. Like four people showed up, we took some shots, we went to Buffalo Wild Wings and had a few drinks and then went back to his house to play smash. Everyone slowly trickled out, and his roommates agreed they were going to bed soon so I told them I’d head out soon too. We watch an episode of Clarence, I told him one more, and when it ended I get up to leave and he says, “are you sure? I have a good episode for you! Also it’s always hard to see you go. Is this my abandonment issues talking? Or I just don’t want my birthday to end” so I tell him of course I’ll watch one more. I leave, and he tells me to text him when I get home per usual. I text him something like “I got home. And thanks for letting me celebrate with you. Im happy I could be there with you today, and I hope your birthday was everything you wanted it to be! For old times sake, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” And he just texted me, “it really was-truly. Thank you so much for coming. You’ve been an amazing friend”. And like I’m about to start crying lol

11.15.22

[spiderispunk]

catharsis

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.1k

Rating: E |18+ only|

Warnings: Friends to…FWB. Drinking (both parties). Banter. Makeout Sessions. Oral (m + f receiving). Biting. PinV. Fluff towards the end. 

Summary: The night before a major court case you seek Matt out for some much needed relief. 

A/N: Honestly intended for this to be more in the vein of hatefucking, but it turned into something a little sweeter with a lot more longing and I’m not mad at it. Hope you all enjoy! Edit made by @saradika

You walk down the dark street, heels clacking against the semi-wet concrete. 

Not even the buckets of rain the skies hammered on the city today can stop the nightlife. As soon as the sun dips below the horizon it starts to stir around you. Hell’s Kitchen might be crazy, but at least it was consistent. 

 There’s a bar on your right and noisy rock music filters out of it, along with day drunks now trying to sober up on their way home. A group of bikers lean against the wall. They leave you be, but you can feel the weight of their stares on your body as you pass them. 

It sends a trickle of cold revulsion down your spine, but you roll your shoulders back, clutch your purse a little tighter, and continue on. You keep your head up and your sharp eyes forward: this wasn’t the best part of town, and you were keen on making it to your destination in one piece. 

The place in question looms ahead of you. A dreary red brick building, even worse now in the dark. There’s a light on in one of the dirty windows on the second floor. Somebody’s home. You really hope it’s the person you’re looking for. 

You push the squealing front door open and climb the rickety stairs. The light flickers, bouncing off of the peeling paint and dripping pipes. A roach scuttles away out of the corner of your eye and you accidentally kick what has to be the fourth plastic water bottle littering the small hallway. 

Great. Your hand gingerly rests against the doorknob. Gotta be truly desperate coming here. 

You stare at the words gracing the office window for an ungodly amount of time. Spend what feels like five minutes tracing the block letters over and over again. Just two names–sixteen letters–but it must have cost them a fortune. It’s cute. Official. 

Now if only they could do something about the state of the rest of the building.  

You take a deep breath, swallow your pride and turn the knob. 

“Hello?” You call. “Matt? Foggy? Anybody in here?” You hold your breath, hoping the voice that answers is the one you want to hear. It would be mortifying having to explain to Foggy what you were doing here. 

But soon comes the telltale click-clack of the metal cane, and the doorway to one of the “offices” is no longer empty. Matt walks into the hallway, head tilted to the side. He says your name softly, face alight as if he’s happy you’re there. 

He looks infuriatingly handsome, dressed in a plain grey suit that wouldn’t warrant a second glance on any other guy. His tie is uncharacteristically missing and the top two buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned, exposing a smattering of hair as dark as the stubble that dots his jaw. So this is what Matt looked like after hours. 

You stop short. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Lucky guess.” He shrugs. “I still know how your voice sounds.”  

Your eyebrows furrow. Matt has always been freakily perceptive, sure, but you hadn’t seen him in almost a year, let alone spoken to him. You don’t quite buy the excuse, but you shrug it off anyways.    

“So, counselor.” Matt grins. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” 

“Cut the shit, Murdock.” You brush past him into what passes for his office. “We’re well past formalities.”  

It’s not much bigger than a walk-in closet and sparse. There’s a desk by the window, complete with a shitty Dell computer, a big pile of papers and a couple ratty chairs. 

Matt chuckles and follows you into the office. “Never thought I’d see you here. Didn’t think you knew where our office was.” He closes the door and sits on the edge of his desk. 

You throw your coat over the back of one of the chairs and slump into it. “Don’t flatter yourself. I had to look it up. But I love what you’ve done with the place. Feels…quaint.” 

He smirks, taking the insult in stride. “Thought you and your partner would be busy preparing for your big trial tomorrow.” 

“My associate is an idiot. I’m completely on my own with this one.” 

“You’re with Jensen now, right? I remember him, he wasn’t that bad.” 

“He thought a ‘hung jury’ was some kind of compliment.” You groan, dropping your head into your hands. 

Matt snorts. “Jesus, how did he pass the bar?” 

“Idiots pass the bar all the time. You don’t need to be a lawyer, just a decent test taker with unearned white male confidence.” You sigh. “And trust me, Jensen has plenty of that to spare.” You rub your temples. “Biggest case of my career and I’ve got a fucking trust fund baby riding shotgun.”

He nudges your foot. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. You can handle whatever faceless court-appointed nobody they throw your way. You were always Columbia’s brightest.” 

“So were you, and look where it got you.” You dig your manicured nail into a flap of chipped paint. 

Matt shrugs. “I’ve got a good practice. I’m helping people with a partner I can actually stand. Can you say the same?” 

You press your lips together, the glare you shoot him falls on blind eyes. “Finally getting right with God then, huh? Or are you just taking charity cases out of the kindness of your heart?” You raise your eyebrows. “You and Foggy deserved better than a rat-infested building, Matty.” 

“They exterminated the rats.” He shakes his head. “Haven’t seen one in days.”  

“Ha-ha.” You roll your eyes. “It could be like the good old days again. You, me and Foggy were the dream team. I mean you could have an office with a view of the city by now. Everyone would know you guys’ names.”  

Matt tilts his head to the side, those red glasses of his glint off the warm light. Impenetrable. “What are you really doing here? I know it’s not for a trip down memory lane,” he asks, voice clipped. “Or to offer me a job. I already said no once.”  

“Can’t old friends catch up and have a drink?” You ask. 

“Old friends?” The corner of his lips lift into a smile. “Cut the shit. You know we’re well past formalities,” he parrots your words back at you. 

You bite your bottom lip, heartbeat flitting in your chest. Yes, you were well past formalities and you were well past friendship. 

“Well if you don’t want to, then I guess I’ll just go home.” You stand, draping your purse back over your shoulder. “Goodbye, Matty.” 

He grabs your wrist. “Wait.”

“Yes?” 

Matt pauses for a while. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was studying you. For a moment you stand there in the fading twilight, frozen chest to chest and breathing the same air. Finally, he speaks. 

“I don’t have anything…to drink I mean. We’d have to go to a bar– that is if you can stand to be seen in such a seedy part of town,” Matt teases. “What would Jensen and all your pretentious friends at L and Z say?” 

You ignore the dig. “We don’t have to go anywhere.” You pull the brown liquor bottle from your purse. “I brought my own. It’s Macallan, your favorite.” 

Matt takes the bottle from you and runs his fingers over the front of it. “That’s an expensive bottle.” 

“I have expensive clients.” You grin. “Guess it would be too much to expect you guys to have actual glasses?” 

“Mugs are in the kitchen.” He points towards the door. “Though if I remember correctly, you were more of a drink-from-the-bottle kind of gal.” 

“Oh don’t be so barbaric, Matthew.” You pull your arm from his grip. “A scotch this fine is made to be savored.” 

You find the chipped mugs on a drying rack in their sorry excuse for a kitchen and bring them back. 

Matt’s completely ditched his suit jacket and his sleeves have been rolled up, exposing his forearms. He’s pulled his office chair out from behind the desk and sits in it with an ankle draped over his knee. The bottle is open, the foil and lid dropped haphazardly onto the desk. The trash looks at home amongst all the other clutter.  

You toe your heels off and settle into the chair across from him, pouring a healthy amount of scotch into the ceramic mug. Matt swirls his offered drink around a few times before taking a sip. 

“Expensive clients indeed.” He visibly relaxes as the warmth spreads through his body. 

“Certainly packs more of a punch than chickens.” 

“You heard about the chickens?” 

“People talk. Couple more animals and you and Foggy can build a farm.” 

Matt takes another drink of scotch in lieu of arguing. “How’s the case coming?” 

“You know I can’t talk about it.” 

“You don’t have to give me specifics.” He rests his chin in his hand. “Just tell me how you feel about it? Confident?” 

You take a deep breath. “I think I’m gonna win.” 

“Even with your crappy associate?” 

“Even with my crappy associate,” you confirm. “Our case is solid. I’ll probably be up against a newbie. All I need is for Jensen to keep his mouth shut and we’re golden.” 

Matt holds his drink up in a toast. “And you’ll have that office with a view in no time. Do you think they’ll give you your own, or will you have to share?”   

You finish your drink and pour another. “You think you’re better than me, just cuz you do pro bono work out of some hovel?”

“You think you’re better than me because you work for expensive clients out of a skyscraper downtown?” He counters, reaching for the bottle but you hold it away from him. 

“Charity doesn’t pay student loans, Matty,” you reply sullenly. “Not all of us could get scholarships, some of us had to sell our souls to the devil.”

“You could quit and work here. Do something that actually makes a difference in the world. Foggy and I could really use you.” 

“You know I can’t do that.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

You clench your jaw. “Can’t.” 

Matt leans forward. “Let me ask you a question.” 

“Shoot,” you try really hard to keep your voice nonchalant, but his barbed words still sting.  

“Why come here? Why not go out with Jensen or any of your new friends at Landman and Zack?” He asks.

“Feel like I’m on the stand.” 

“That’s not an answer.” 

You take a drink to avoid the question for a moment. “Maybe I just wanted to see a familiar face.” 

He hums something that almost sounds like the Cheers theme song. “Didn’t think you were the sentimental type.” 

“I’m not,” you snap. “And if you’re gonna be an asshole then I’ll call myself a cab.” 

“Don’t. I’m sorry.” Matt holds his hands up. “Pour me another drink?” 

You do, watching the amber liquid slosh against the dark green paint of his mug. 

“Remember the semester me, you and Foggy won moot court?” You ask. 

“You mean the bender we went on after that had us stumbling down Broadway at 3 am?” Matt smiles fondly. “Yeah, I remember. I’m surprised you remember anything about that night. I had to drag you home.”

You almost laugh at the memory. You and Foggy singing show tunes as you passed the closed theaters. Matt wedged between the two of you, holding you steady with an arm wrapped tightly around your waist. Not only had he dragged you home that night, but he tucked you in and slept on your couch to make sure you were alright. 

“I remember you.” You scrape your nail against the chip on the mug’s lip. “You were shockingly alert, even after three drinks.” 

“Yeah well, who else was going to keep you and Foggy out of trouble?” 

“It started raining and you gave me your jacket.” It smelled like cologne–spiced and woody–if you breathe deeply enough, you can almost smell it. You wonder if the same scent still clings to his dress shirt now. “I never gave it back to you.” 

“I didn’t want it back,” Matt says quietly. “Or I would have asked.” 

Your breath catches in the back of your throat. “I..I don’t have it anymore.” 

“That’s a shame. It looked really good on you.” There’s no sarcasm in his tone anymore.

“Wanna know why I really came here?” You set the mug onto the floor beside the mostly-full bottle.

Matt nods. 

“I came.” You pause, gathering up the courage to really speak your mind. “I came because I had a shitty day, and I knew, very, very deep down, that seeing you would make it better.” 

“Really?” Matt raises his eyebrows. 

You scoff. “Don’t let it go to your head.” 

“You missed me.” 

“A teeny tiny bit.” 

“C’mooon.” 

“Matt,” you say as a warning. “Don’t be a dick. Not right now.” 

He tips the rest of the contents of his mug down his throat and sets it aside. “Alright.” He rubs his hands on his thighs. “You came here because you thought I could make you feel better. How do you want me to do that? Some friendly legal advice? A pep talk?” 

You shake your head reflexively. “Remember those long nights during finals week? After Foggy called it and went back to your place?” You’re venturing into dangerous territory now, the alcohol making you bolder. 

Matt rubs his jaw. “Another trip down memory lane?” 

“A more eventful one.” You play with your fingers. 

Matt scoots to the edge of his chair, gently pressing into your space. “There were a lot of long nights. You’ll have to be specific.” His breath fans over cheek and you have to stop yourself from shivering.

“The ones that happened during our senior year.” You’re drawn forward towards him like a comet. “Tended to happen on nights like these.” You poke at his empty mug. “When you and I were alone and a little intoxicated.” 

He presses his lips together and slowly shakes his head. “I’m having trouble recalling.” He brushes his thumb against the back of your hand. “Think you should remind me.” 

Your muscles tense up and heat floods your body. You stare at him, catching a glimpse of yourself reflected in the red lenses of your glasses. Here you were, so close to getting what you came here for in the first place and you couldn’t fucking move. You sit frozen, lips mere inches away from Matt’s, unable to close the cavernous distance between you. 

He makes the choice for you, bumping his nose against yours clumsily before he can finally slot his lips over yours. Your hands curl into the collar of his shirt instantly, sealing him in place. He grabs the leg of your chair and pulls you even closer as your lips dance a tango. It’s messy and off-beat, but God is it electrifying. 

You can taste the scotch on him, and your tongue licks out greedily in search of more. Matt moans against your lips, tilting his head to kiss you deeper. You’re lightheaded now, unsure if this weightless sensation was from Matt’s syrupy kisses, the alcohol or some combination of both. 

He kisses you until your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest, and then, as if he knows the effect he has on your body, Matt pulls away and gives you a moment to breathe.

“I thought you didn’t remember.” You press your forehead to his, and though he’s right there even this meager distance is too far. 

“Couldn’t forget that if I tried.” Matt pulls his glasses off and leans back to set them on the desk behind him. 

“Did you try?” You follow him and Matt shakes his head with a quiet laugh. 

He pulls you onto his lap. “No,” he whispers, and then he’s kissing the life out of you once again. 

Your fingers slide up his firm chest, fumbling to undo the small buttons of his dress shirt. It takes even more time to accomplish the task now that you’re under the influence. Matt has an easier time undoing the buttons of your silk blouse. He’s pushing the shirt off your shoulders and squeezing your breasts through your lacy bra in no time. 

You press a sigh into his mouth as your fingers come in contact with his chest. You run your fingers through the curly hair that resides there and Matt all but purrs. His hands slide up and under the cami you wear and pull it off of you.  

Suddenly you feel entirely vulnerable. 

Matt’s already reaching for the clasp of your bra, but you push his hands away. 

“What?” His eyebrows furrow. 

“Shush.” You climb out of his lap and drop onto your knees in front of him. “Sit back.” You undo his belt buckle with slightly steadier fingers.

“Wait,” Matt cocks his head to the side. “Are you sure? About all of this?” 

“Yes,” you breathe, mouth already dry and lips longing to be wrapped around him. “I want you. Do you want me?”    

He gently cups your chin. “I always wanted you.” Matt says and leans back in his office chair and spreads his legs. 

 You palm the very noticeable imprint of his cock as your mouth slowly follows the trail of hair down to the waistband of his dress pants and Matt groans, lifting his hips in search of more pressure. The button of his pants is a little easier to work with, and you manage to get them and his boxers down and around his ankles with little resistance. 

Matt’s cock rests against his chiseled stomach, hard and lean just like him. You spit into your palm and the curse he lets out is colored by a chuckle at your shamelessness. That all changes to a choked moan when your fingers wrap around him. 

“Shit,” he huffs, head tilting back as you stroke him. “Yeah. Just like that.” 

You hum under your breath, squeezing him a little tighter. Your lips sweep across the expanse of his muscled thigh, higher and higher until they brush against the base of his dick. You mouth at it with little licks until Matt’s all but squirming beneath you. 

Slowly, oh so achingly slowly, you leave opened mouthed kisses up the shaft, tracing each ridge and vein with your tongue. The taste of him is one still etched deep within you; soap and sweat. It brings memories of tipsy nights long ago, the taste of cheap beer and greasy food. The fumble of clothes and the slide of sweaty skin as the two of you tried to find catharsis through each other. 

Translucent pearls of cum bead on the tip of his cock. You lick them off with a quiet moan. 

Matt fights for control above you. His shaky fingers dig into the plastic chair, knuckles so taut they turn white from exertion. It’s a losing battle, you can see that in the way his hips lift towards your face. When you look up, you find his face is a mask hard and dark with lust. 

“Something you want, Matty?” 

“Don’t make me beg, sweetheart,” Matt wiggles in the seat.

A sinful smile creeps over your face and you lean forward to lap at the head of his cock once more. Matt clenches his jaw. He swears you could make Adam fall again. 

“What if I want you to beg?” You pair the words with another twist of your wrist. 

“Then we’re in for a long night.” His voice rumbles deep in his chest. 

You purse your lips. “Think you could outlast me?”

Matt scoffss. “I’ve been told I’m very stubborn.” He spreads his legs a little wider. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while.” 

“Yeah?” You bite your bottom lip. .  

“Yeah.” He presses a gentle hand against the back of your neck and guides you forward. 

Your lips part around the tip of his cock taking him into the warm confines of your mouth. The broken noise that falls from his chapped lips lights a fire inside of you. You swallow down more and more of him hoping for more of those sweet jagged sounds.

“Ah.” Matt lifts his unseeing eyes to the ceiling. Harsh breaths fall from his nose. “That’s it.” 

He’s heavy on your tongue, stretching your lips open. Your tongue swirls along the underside of him, hands still stroking him slowly. It’s a lethal combination, the kind that makes his toes curl up in his dress shoes. Matt’s chest rises and falls quickly, those intoxicating noises coming faster and faster. Each one makes your clit ache, and soon you’re pressing your thighs together for some kind of relief. 

It’s almost ridiculous just how much sucking him off turns you on.

You press down further onto him, ignoring the ache in your jaw and the dribbles of spit that collect at the corner of your mouth. Greed twists in your gut like a leaping flame. You want as much of him as you can take and then some. You want the taste of him on your tongue, coating the back of your throat.

A hand sneaks it’s way between his thighs, gently squeezing his balls and a moan rips out of his throat. 

“Fuck.” Matt’s eyes roll into the back of his head. His hips snap up into your mouth, and you gag as his cock hits the back of your throat. “Oh shit.”

You’ve always loved the effect you have on him. Love the way that sweet altar boy composure comes tumbling down the moment you fall to your knees for him. He’s scrambling now, muttering curses under his breath as he fumbles to regain restraint. His cock twitches dangerously between your lips, spurts of come leak onto your tongue.

Matt only lasts another ten seconds before he’s ripping you away from him. 

You suck in unrestricted breaths with a cough and wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand. “Why’d you make me stop?” You ask innocently, as if he wasn’t just about to come down the back of your throat. 

“You’re trouble,” he says breathlessly. And then after a beat and with a much steadier voice. “Sit on my desk.” Matt pulls his pants back up around his waist but leaves them undone. 

You take his hands and guide him back towards the desk. It squeals and rocks as you climb onto it, but Matt shows no worry. His hand cups your face and he pulls you back into a searing kiss, wasting no time in pushing his tongue into your mouth so he can taste himself. His hands roam again, intent to finish his mission of getting you completely naked. 

Matt undoes your bra and tosses it somewhere behind him. His lips leave yours to trail across your jaw and down your neck, leaving sloppy kisses and nips in their wake. He buries his nose into your shoulder, pausing to deeply inhale the scent of your perfume. 

Jasmine. His favorite. 

“Did you wear that for me?” He mumbles, tucking a kiss against your pulse. 

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.” You play coy, but the truth is you absolutely did.  

 Matt grins against your shoulder. He cups your breasts, thumb teasing your peaked nipple. “Mmm. I’m gonna say you did,” he mumbles, and then his lips latch onto the side of your breast.

You let out a quiet huff of his name. Matt buries his face between your breasts, alternating between licking and sucking. Every once in a while he delivers a bite that makes you gasp. 

“You’re gonna leave a mark,” you scold.

“Good,” he whispers cheekily and his teeth dig into your skin a little harsher. 

You bite your bottom lip, legs spreading a bit when Matt finally pulls himself away from your chest and tugs at the waistband of your slacks. He pulls them down and leaves them in a heap under the desk. 

Matt’s a bit frantic as he shoves the papers to the side and pushes you back onto your elbows. His lips are hurried, not the reverent pace he was using before. They sweep down your stomach and wrap themselves around your clothed clit before you can even ask for it. 

Your back arches, and you rock your hips up against his mouth. Matt shushes you and pulls your panties to the side, exposing yourself to his tongue. He licks at you like a man starved, tongue tracing up and down your dripping cunt until you are dizzy with pleasure. 

Matt slurps your clit into his mouth, working at it with his lips and tongue. Your arms give out from underneath you and you fall flat onto the piles of folders. His name drips from your lips in broken pleas and shattered whimpers, intoxicating as the scotch that now sits abandoned in the corner of the room. 

The intensity with which he feasts on you is blinding. Matt uses your twisted panties to pull you flush against his mouth. He’s all over you. Hot, wet and relentless. The slide of his lips and tongue steal the breath from your lungs, the burn of his stubble provokes reedy cries from your throat.  

Your chest heaves and your thighs shake, wrapped around Matt’s head like a vice. You’re gushing all over his face and still he presses even closer to you. 

“Yes, Matty, please.” You tangle your fingers into his hair, holding him against you as you chase the orgasm you’re so desperately close to. 

“Want you to watch,” he mumbles. “Are you looking?”

You muster up all your available strength and lift your head. “Y-yeah.” 

“Tell me what you see.” The smirk on Matt’s face looks like it was delivered by the Devil himself.

He sucks your clit back into his mouth, tongue flicking against it. When you don’t speak, too choked up by the sensations, Matt bites your inner thigh in warning. 

“Look so hot,” you stutter out. “Your–ah– your face is all wet. Like you’ve been drowning in me.”

Matt groans, lips still wrapped around your clit and you jump. 

“Can barely see you, my thighs are wrapped around your head so tight.” You pinch your nipples.

He hums and hooks your leg over his shoulder, still trying to get closer. His nails dig crescents into your thigh. Matt flattens his tongue against you in broad strokes that make you see stars. You’re almost to that glorious edge, you can feel it coming, spreading slowly through your veins.  

“Oh, don’t stop,” you shout. “Feels so good. I’m gonna come.” 

Matt mumbles something against you that you can’t understand, could be encouragement, could be praise, but it doesn’t matter. The dam has broken and you’re already coming with a sharp cry of his name. You give and give and Matt eagerly takes, lips smacking against your pussy. 

He’s crazy with the taste of you, tucking sated moans between sloppy kisses. They only heighten the waves of pleasure that ripple through you. Clumsy, repeated cries of his name tumble from your lips and into the air. You really, really hope the building is truly empty. How embarrassing would it be for someone else to hear you right now. Utterly shattered and near tears as your orgasm rips through you.  

Matt pulls away from you with one last kiss to your sensitive clit. You fall limp onto the desk, suddenly very aware of the way your sweaty skin prickles in the stuffy air. 

“Always sound so pretty when you let go for me,” Matt whispers against your inner thigh. 

You roll your head to the side, limbs heavy as you slowly drift back down to earth. Matt grins smugly, wearing your slick on his face like a badge of honor. You cup his chin and sweep your thumb over his face. His lips part, sucking the digit into his mouth. Another hot spike of desire races through your body when his tongue cleans your finger off. 

“Gonna fuck me now or what?” You ask, voice still a little raw from shouting. 

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Thinking about it.” He rests his chin on your thigh and his thumb rubs circles into your calf. 

“What’s stopping you?” You brush his hair out of his face. “Don’t tell me you’re getting tired on me.”  

He curls his fingers into the waistband of your panties and lets them snap back against your skin. “These, for one thing.”  

“So take ‘em off and fuck me.” 

Matt hooks his pointer finger into the ruined lace and tugs it down slightly. “What color are they?” He whispers against your hip.

“Red.” 

He smirks, and his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “‘Course they are.” He slides them off of you and stands between your legs. 

The press of his lips against yours almost distracts you from the fact that your underwear mysteriously disappears. Almost. 

Matt’s shirt joins the haphazard collection of clothes on the floor and his pants fall around his ankles once again. “You got a condom?”

“In my purse.” You slide off the rickety desk and root around in your fallen purse for the foil packet. “Got it.” You climb back onto your perch and tear the wrapper open with your teeth. 

Matt hisses through his teeth when you roll the condom onto his stiff cock. You stroke him a few times and guide the head of his cock to rest against the seam of your cunt. 

He hooks your legs around his waist and groans at the warmth of your pussy. “You sure?” He nudges his nose against yours.  

“I’m sure.” You wrap your arms around his neck. “Fuck me, Matty,” you breathe against his lips. 

Matt grips your hip tightly and thrusts into you slowly. Your lips drop open in a breathless gasp as he fills you inch by aching inch. He feels incredible inside of you, cock spreading you with a gentle burn that you can feel in the soles of your feet. Matt groans again as his hips meet yours. 

“Shit.” His head falls against your chest, hand falling to curl around your knee. “Gimme a sec. It’s been a while.” 

You stay tightly pressed together, just breathing each other in. Your fingertips skate across his slender shoulders, down the broad expanse of his back and back up again. You’re intending for the touch to be soothing, but judging from the hammer of his heart against your chest you’re having the opposite effect. 

Slowly, and with what seems like a lot of willpower, Matt drags his hips back and pushes them forward again. Thus begins the teasing rhythm he sets– a slow back and forth. All the way in. All the way out. 

He’s savoring you. The hug of your walls. The filthy noise of your cunt as he fills you over and over. Each and every one of your sharp inhales and exhales. The scrape of your nails against his lower back. He indulges in all of it. 

But it’s not enough for you, this languid drag of his cock within you. You want more. And you let him know as much by digging your heel into the small of his back and rocking forward to meet his next thrust. 

“Faster,” you whine. “Harder.” 

Matt sucks in a harsh breath. He yanks you to the edge of the desk and snaps his hips against yours. His arms snake around your waist, lifting your hips slightly to change the angle. 

The sudden change leaves you scrambling for something to hold on. Your hands leave his body and wrap around the edge of the desk. You’re dangerously close to losing your balance and falling flat on your back once more. 

“Fuck yeah, Matt. Just like that, baby. Yes!” You cry. 

“How’s it feel?” His jaw ticks with effort, but his pace doesn’t falter. 

You stare up at the ceiling with heavy-lidded eyes. “So fucking good. 

“Yeah?” Matt kisses your chin. 

“You always fuck me so good.” Your heartbeat thuds in your ear, your thighs quiver with the impending weight of your orgasm. 

He grunts, nose buried right against your pulse. “Music to my ears, honey.” One of his hands sneaks between your joined bodies and rubs messily at your clit. “Want you to come for me now. Can you do that for me?” 

You nod, so lost in the pleasure you forget that Matt can’t see you. 

He grins against your neck. “I’m gonna assume that was a yes.” The pressure between your legs grows. “Don’t hold back on me, honey. Wanna hear all those pretty sounds you make.” 

You gasp when he bites your neck, sure to leave a bruise behind. The pain sends you over the edge and you come with a choked yelp. You give Matt what he wants; all the sighs and hoarse cries of pleasure he so desperately craved. 

Your legs lock around Matt’s waist, trapping him in the heat of your cunt and triggering his own release. He spills into the condom with breathy moans.  

Matt collapses against you, pressing you down onto the desk. His lips sweep up and down your neck and over the teeth marks dug into your skin. Ones you’ll have to cover before trial tomorrow. You’d tell him off if you were in your right mind. But after he’d just fucked you within an inch of your life, you were inclined to forgive him for the hassle. 

You run your fingers through his sweaty hair, listening to his harsh breaths as he gains his bearings. 

You’re the first one to break the comfortable silence some minutes later. “Just like old times?”

“Just like old times.” Matt presses his forehead against your collarbone.

He slips his softening dick from inside you and pulls the condom off. You watch him search for the metal trash can beside his desk. His movements are surprisingly smooth, even with his pants dropped around his ankles. You chalk it up to his familiarity of the space.  

You set to the task of getting dressed. First your slacks, sans panties– you had a sneaking suspicion Matt had those tucked away in his back pocket. 

“I need my underwear back.” You tell him, pulling your bra off of the desktop where it had landed. 

Matt feigns innocence. “I’ll let you know if I see ‘em.” 

“Hardy-har.” You roll your eyes. “C’mon, Matt, those were my favorite pair.” You pull your bra straps up over your shoulder and start smoothing out your wrinkled shirt.

“Your favorite pair, huh?” He pulls his pants back up and buckles his belt. “That’s a shame. Guess you’ll just have to come back and get them another time.” 

You cross your arms over your chest. “And what happens when Foggy or Karen finds a pair of lacy red panties in your office? How are you gonna explain that one?” 

“I’ll say they’re a very generous gift from a client,” he jokes. “A good luck charm.”  

You snort. “You’re a fiend.” You button up your shirt. “I want them back.” 

Matt shoves a hand in his pocket, presumably fondling the panties he just pocketed. “You’ll get them back.” 

Eventually. 

Now dressed, you locate Matt’s shirt and help him into it. You stand in front of him as you slowly fasten the buttons. He wraps his arms around your waist, stealing kisses every so often as you help him. 

“Just like old times.” You smooth down the collar and step back. 

You pause, the two of you poised and waiting for…something. Some cosmic sign, maybe a voice from the heavens urging you to stay together. It never comes, and eventually you turn away from Matt. 

“I should go.” You shrug on your coat. “Gotta be up early for court tomorrow.” 

 “Don’t worry. You’ve got this.” Matt holds up the bottle of scotch. “And when you win, you can come back here and we’ll finish this bottle.”

You smile. His faith in you blooms warm in your chest like the sun. “Goodnight, Matt.” 

“Get home safe.” 

“I will.” You throw your purse over your shoulder and walk out the door. 

Once outside, you pause and look back up at the second floor. The light’s still on in the office and Matt’s silhouette frames the window. You swear, as impossible as it is, that he’s watching you. The thought, though ludicrous, brings you a sense of comfort and security. 

You wrap that warmth around you and let it guide you home.

[Tags]

@saradika​ @denisovan​ @rae-gar-targaryen​ @luxurybeskar​

[your-average-genshin-enjoyer]

- O v e r w o r k -

CHARACTERS: Kazuha x reader

WARNINGS: Might be OOC(Out of character), may have grammar mistakes, I may use different pronounce accidentally for the reader qwq and this is just a random 3 am idea so sorry if it sucks TvT

"Kazu I'm back." You greeted, taking off your shoes after another overtime session on your work.

"Oh, welcome back Dove. Do you want me to make you dinner or something else?" Kazuha asked softly, moving his arms wide open for you. A laugh emits from his mouth as it echoes in the serene room when you slumped onto his porcelain white arms.

You two sit down on the floor in silence, you start to breath in his scent while basking in his gentle warmth as the smell of sea salt and maple leaves fills your nose. His bandaged hand pets your head so softly it almost lulls you to slumber.

"Thank you Kazu, but I think I'll go finish the last few of my paperwork for now." You replied, forcing yourself to drift away from his hold. Even though you still want to linger in his soothing warmth at least a little longer.

He frowns in your reply, both of his hands on your shoulder as he shook his head.

"Dove, you've been overworking for almost two weeks now. Isn't time for you to rest at least a bit longer? You've been skipping meals too these days, you need to rest for at least a day and catch up on yourself." Kazuha argued, concerns lingering in his fine red eyes while he speaks his disagreement to your statement.

"I know Kazu, but I'm fine really. I'll go shower and then get some rest, how does that sound?" You asked in hopes that he'll accept your offer.

"*Sigh* as you wish Dove, I guess I can't drive your statement further." Kazuha sighed in defeat.

You got into the shower while Kazuha prepared dinner for both of you. The sound of trickling water and sizzles of pans in contact with oil start to loosen you up from the strict work atmosphere your workspace has left you with.

You went to get your towel on the door but before you could get it, a sharp headache hits your head as your visions began to go blurry, your eyesight and hearing starts to blend in into nothing.

- Kazuha's Pov -

"Ok, now the soy sauce and- *Thud* " My train of thoughts we're cut off by a sudden thud from what seems to be the bathroom.

"Dove? Did you drop something?" I asked from the kitchen, then going to the bathroom not long after. knocking the door slowly. But when all I get was silence, I start to knock louder and then decide to go in to check on them.

"Dove I'm so sorry for intruding." I apologized quickly and opened the door to see Y/n unconscious on the bathroom floor.

"Y/N?! Dove, D-Dove are you there???" I asked, frantically wrapping them with a towel and carrying them to the bedroom. Their body was pale and cold, and this look of. . . Pain is in their face.

I checked up on them and was relieved to see that they are still breathing and seem stable.

"I guess I'll make some soup instead of chicken teriyaki for today, I hope you're ok with that." I mumbled while kissing their forehead as gently as possible to not startle them, and tuck them in bed with a blanket.

. . .

When the soup was ready, I served it into 2 bowls and bring them to Y/n's room so that we can eat it together. And coincidentally, Y/n start to stir from their unconscious state when I came into the room after getting some water.

"Dove? You're awake! phew, thank the archons. Are you ok? is there any pain or discomfort? any headaches? are you seeing something?" I rambled but then stops when I realized I asked too much and start apologizing to Y/n, only for them to chuckle at my behavior.

"Don't worry kazuha, I'm ok. I just felt dizzy before but now I'm fine." Y/n replied, caressing my hands that are in their grasp softly yet weakly.

"*Sigh*, that's good to know. You better get some rest now ok? I made some soup if you want to eat, or we could just rest if you're tired." I offered.

"I think I'll eat first, can you hand me a spoon?" Y/n asked with her hands open, asking for the spoon and bowl of soup.

"I know you want to eat by yourself but please allow me to feed you this time Dove." I said, placing the spoon full of soup in front of their face.

"I-I can eat by myself Kazu, besides it's sort of troublesome to feed me to be honest." Y/n said sheepishly, which makes me shake my head and differ with their statement. They finally agree to be feed by me after a few minutes, we ate our food in a serene silence that is exchanged with lingering eye contacts that somehow speaks more than usual.

"Is it fine if I wanna cuddle you?" I asked, realizing I've been feeling touch starved because of them working overtime which actually manage to make me feel embarrassed.

"Of course you can Kazu, come here." Y/n giggled with their arms wide open, which of course I respond right away at their gesture by laying on their side and hugging them.

"I miss you, Kazu. . ." Y/n said sleepily with their hands and face buried in my chest. Soft snores start to emit from their mouth, I would be lying if I said it didn't make me laugh a little.

"I miss you too Dove, rest well." I whispered, hugging them closer as I joined them into the realm of peaceful dreams and slumber that is lulled by the subtle breeze of the wind.

[yoonlattesworld]

Fussy babies

Yoongi masterlist

Main masterlist

Hellooo @teluki ! Here you go! I hope you like it! And i loved both of you ideas so i kind of combined them together hehe. Enjoy ~

Summary: Just a day to day life of Min yoongi taking care of his wife and two fussy babies.

This is kind of a part two of His pretty girls but it can be readed alone!

Genre: fluffy fluff with our protective husband yoongi ☺️

Author's pov

"Unnie! give that to me and go and sit" you smiled softly as Jungkook's girlfriend Aera rushed towards you and took the tray from your hands "but i have been doing nothing other than sitting around. I can do this much" you said with a pout causing Aera to giggle as you both walked towards the dining table "you are supposed to rest all the time now unnie. The doctor has told you not to put too much pressure on your spine" she said placing the tray on the table as you huffed knowing she was right. But you were just bored okay! You know that being 8 and a half months pregnant is really hard and yoongi doesn't let you do any work also because the doctor had said that there might be some complications in the second pregnancy . But today is yoongi's birthday and all the members along with their partners have gathered in your house to celebrate his 28th birthday and ever since they arrived, everyone is telling you to sit and rest everytime you try to do something. You know that they are all doing this for you own health but you couldn't stop the pout forming on your lips while caressing your large belly. Suddenly, you felt large hands wrapping around your hips as he pulled you close to him. Your pout increasing hearing him chuckling "what's wrong babygirl " "nothing " you mumbled watching all the girls placing all the food on the table except for Taehyung's fiancee Gina who was playing with Ae cha and jin's daughter Yuri. He hummed caressing your bump softly and murmured "tell me love" you let out a dramatic sigh causing yoongi to smile "nobody is letting me do anything " yoongi knows how you feel. You have always been an independent woman. Always doing your own work plus you loved when everyone visited your house. And you always cooked for everyone but this time,yoongi and jin have done all the cooking leaving you to sit on the couch with Ae cha and since then you have been pouty.

So knowing your stubborn nature he nuzzled his nose against your cheek earning a giggle from you which you tried to stifle and said "alright baby you can help but don't lift anything heavy and sit down if your legs hurt okay?" You nodded immediately and smiled brightly waddling towards the kitchen. Yoongi smiled when he heard "you can't stop me now i have permission from yoongi!" Aera laughed and nodded leaving you in the kitchen to go towards her boyfriend who was busy doing arm wrestling with jimin while hoseok joined Gina making funny faces towards the little girls. After you placed the wine bottle on the table, you waddled towards the kitchen again while yoongi and Namjoon engaged in a silent conversation but ofcourse your over protective husband looked at you from time to time. As you lifted the plate of kimbap, your eyebrows furrowed as you a slight pain in your lower belly and you breathed shakily as the pain increased. slightly but then it was gone as soon as it came.

Taking a few deep breaths you waited for a few seconds but then relaxed not feeling any pain. It might be cramps. You thought to yourself and started walking towards the table but then suddenly you gasped feeling it again and this time it was much more intense. Grabbing the wall to support yourself you tried to take deep breaths but tears filled your eyes when the pain didn't reduce and a second later, your eyes widened when you felt something trickling down your legs. No no no not now! A piercing pain ripped through your stomach causing you to drop the plate on the floor as you tried to support yourself and a scream escaped your lips "y-yoongi!" Everyone's attention was diverted towards the sound the moment the crashing was heard. Yoongi was on his feet in a second, cursing under his breath he ran towards the kitchen and his eyes widened seeing you standing in a pool of blood. Rushing towards you he held you before your body could hit the floor and looked at you worriedly. He has experienced this situation before when Ae cha was born but nothing can prepare him to see you in this much pain"fuck baby okay calm down we are going to the hospital yeah? Shh" he mumbled and picked your crying form effortlessly and rushed towards the door stopping for a second to look at Ae cha "hyung don't worry we will take care of her!" Jungkook said and yoongi nodded already walking out of the door while you sobbed clutching his shirt "i will go with them" said jin and his wife Ina nodded whispering "call us" jin nodded and rushed out of the door opening the door of the back seat and shutting it once yoongi and you sat inside. Starting the car he started driving towards the nearest hospital "fuck hyung drive faster" yoongi said holding you close to him whispering you to take deep breaths.

While Taehyung couldn't help the grin breaking on his face and he held his fiancee "wow we are finally going to see the second baby min " everyone smiled despite being worried about you while jungkook cradled a crying Ae cha in his arms "w-what happened to mommy?" She asked looking scared while jungkook shushed her "nothing sweetheart. Your little sibling is going to come in this world today " She blinked twice before her eyes widened in excitement "she is going to come today?!" Chuckling he said "yes today but how do you know it's a girl?" "I just do" she said proudly causing everyone to laugh fondly before she said something that doubled Everyone's excitement "then dadda and baby min are going to have the same birthday!" "Wah i didn't thought of that" jimin said ruffling her hair.

While yoongi anxiously waited outside the hospital room, his heart clenching every time your scream was heard. He legs bouncing as jin forcefully made him sit. He took a shaky breath remembering your teary and fearful eyes when you whispered "yoongi I'm scared " before you were taken away from his arms. Jin placed a hand on his shoulder saying "don't worry both of them will be fine" yoongi nodded taking deep breaths and after a few moments, your screams stopped making yoongi more anxious but then,a crywas heard. He was on his feet the second a doctor came out of your room "congratulations sir it's a girl" he couldn't be happier. Seeing you holding your second daughter tears filled his eyes and he immediately held you close to him whispering comforting words as you leaned your weak body against him. He held his daughter's tiny body gingerly, overflowed with love and adoration when her tiny nose twitched in her sleep."you gave me the best present " he whispered pecking your forehead softly as you slept.All the members and the girls were really happy and baby Ae cha was saying something about being right but you didn't really understood it.

It's been a month since you gave birth to your second daughter A yeong. And safe to say both you and yoongi are more than exhausted especially you. Your body needed more time to recover resulting in getting bad cramps every time you moved. But yoongi was there with you all the time. Making things a little easier. You were sitting on the couch at around 11 pm while breastfeeding A yeong with Ae cha sleeping on your lap. He worked from home since your pregnancy but tonight after eating dinner he was called by the company urgently and he apologized millions of time to which you replied that you will be fine with a reassuring smile and he promised to come home soon. Hearing the front door open you smiled as your husband came into view looking at you with a tired smile "hey babygirl " "hi" you whispered as he leaned down to kiss your lips,being careful of the two babies in your lap. After he pulled back you asked "is everything okay?" He kissed both of his daughters head and nodded "don't worry love. Everything's fine. Now let's get these two to bed yeah?" You nodded and yoongi gently picked up Ae cha who mumbling something incoherent before snuggling in his shoulder. He carried her upstairs and tucked her in her bed properly before coming down to see you struggling to keep your eyes open. Chuckling fondly he kissed your forehead and took the sleeping baby from your arms who whined being away from her mother's warmth but then settled quickly when yoongi patted her back. After he was done with A yeong he picked you up too despite your protests and carried you towards your shared bedroom. Making sure to be gentle he laid you on the bed and covered you with the duvet. Changing his clothes he laid besides you and you immediately snuggled in his chest while he caressed your waist softly "did you take your medicines? " you mumbled a small yes and drifted off to dreamland. Kissing your head he fell asleep too.

Around 2 am, you both were woken up by the sound of baby monitor. Rubbing your eyes you supported yourself on your elbows and squinted at it to see A yeong crying and immediately went to get up. But yoongi stopped you with a grunt and made you lay down again "I'll go. Sleep" he mumbled and sat up but you grabbed his sleeve "but you are tired " "I'm fine baby. Now go to sleep" despite mumbling small protests, your eyes fell shut and your hand slipped from yoongi's sleeve. Covering you properly,he stood up and walked towards his daughter's room. Opening the door he smiled seeing Ae cha sitting up with a pout "why does she cry so much?" Chuckling raspily he picked A yeong up and replied "because she is just a baby. You did the same thing too sweetheart " Ae cha mumbled something about not crying all the time and slumped on her bed again while yoongi walked towards the kitchen to warm your milk which you have kept for times like this. After she burped,he walked around the living room patting her bum and in no time,she fell asleep causing yoongi to sigh in relief and he tucked her to her bed again. After making sure both of his girls are sleeping soundly he slipped besides you again and wrapped his arms around your waist with your back pressed against his chest.

The next morning you woke up sighing softly feeling the warmth of your bed but soon you frowned when you were met with an empty space besides you where your husband was supposed to be. You stretched slightly immediately regretting it when a pain shoot through your body. Getting up, you brushed your teeth and made your way downstairs and you felt a giddy feeling inside you seeing your husband sitting on the chair of the dining table with A yeong cradled to his bare chest and Ae cha sitting on her high chair as yoongi fed her. Walking towards them Ae cha was the first one to notice you "good morning mommy!" "Good morning baby" you smiled and kissed her head then smiling at yoongi when he pulled you towards him. You pressed a small kiss on his lips feeling him relaxing in your touch as you carassed his cheek. Pulling back you whispered "good morning yoon" his strong arm was wrapped your waist as he carassed your hips and raspily murmured " morning babygirl . Did you sleep well?" You nodded humming and took A yeong in your arms kissing her head too with black hair already growing healthily. "Mommy can we have a movie day today?" Ae cha asked after swallowing her food while yoongi wiped her mouth "can we?" You looked at yoongi with a pout who nodded immediately "of course we can " both you and Ae cha smiled brightly and you hugged your youngest close while discussing which movie to watch not noticing yoongi looking at you three with a fond smile as you stayed in your own little world.

God he was so lucky to have you three in his life.