#mm: my fics

[missmonsters2]

Mirror, Mirror | One

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: The thought of something more had never really crossed Wanda's mind when it came to you. Best friends for 10 years and there hasn't even been one instance of accidental sexual tension. You're her best friend, that's all—until someone points out that you obviously have a very specific type when it comes to dating.

Warnings: best friends to lovers. shenanigans. jealousy, jealousy. sexual tension. pining. yearning. sexual thoughts. spicy (tumblr's version). stupid steve. neurotic nat. brat & stinky. bug as in shutterbug.

*explicit version will only be available on Ao3 & will be posted there after series is completed*

Note: i'm back!!! Nothing like coming back and posting a mini series. Enjoy this superior trope. Updates will be on Tuesdays! As you can see, we're trying something new with explicit content lol 😬

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Count: ~4.1k

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It's strange how sometimes a single sentence can change someone's entire life. 

Wanda's thought about what sentences could change her life—usually, they're morbid and depressing.

'You have cancer.'

'Someone you love has died horrifically in an accident.'

'Your cat actually finds living with you miserable and would prefer the dangers of living in the streets.'

Never in a million years would Wanda ever think it'd be, 'Hey, have you ever noticed how your best friend exclusively only dates girls who look like you?'

And don't get Wanda wrong. It wasn't a morbid or depressing change; it was just...a change. An irrevocable change because now, Wanda couldn't stop thinking about it or noticing it. 

This was all Steve's fault. 

Because if someone like Stupid Steve could notice something like that, it had to mean something, right? But as Wanda remembers about the past girls you've hooked up with and brought around, she doesn't know what to make of it.

A part of Wanda wishes she had never talked to Steve that night at the bar. 

"Where's Vis?" Steve asked, looking around.

"With Tony playing pool, I think," Wanda shrugged. She doesn't particularly keep track of where her on-and-off boyfriend goes. She thinks they might be on an off-period right now, anyway. 

"And where's—oh, nevermind, there she is," Steve started to say but cut off when they both saw you across the bar talking with the bartender, flirting over drinks—which were probably free if Wanda could guess. 

Wanda's slightly annoyed because it's been a long week without seeing you, and Wanda's been used to seeing you almost every day for the past several years of her life. But you've been gone on a work trip this week for a wedding shoot and only came home just a little after lunch and needed an immediate long nap before tonight's get-together. 

That meant Wanda was sorely missing out on best-friend time, and now you were off flirting shamelessly with the hot bartender. Wanda's rooting for you, make no mistake. The bartender is definitely easy on the eyes, luscious hair, and lips—something Wanda knows you're weak for. 

Plus, Wanda's worried you're not anywhere near getting close to settling down. She wants you to be in a happy, fulfilling relationship. But she supposes she's in no position to talk herself. 

Wanda loves Vision without a doubt, but their relationship is definitely chaotic, and Vision keeps pushing for something more serious now that they've been dating (sporadically) for a long time. She's been considering it in her downtime and thinks it might make sense as the next step.

Best friends do everything together, right? So, maybe if Wanda decided to take the next step in a serious relationship, you'd find someone to commit to seriously as well. 

Then, both of you could get married at the same time. Then, they could buy a house in the same neighborhood right next to each other. There'd be endless double dates and vacations together. Wanda wouldn't have to miss you.

But first, Wanda needed to regain lost best-friend time, one-on-one style.  

"Hey, you know what I just noticed?" Steve said, breaking Wanda's drifting thoughts. 

"What?"

"Bug—" 

Wanda makes a face at your nickname. Granted, it was Wanda's fault you ended up with it back in your first year of university. You never let her forget it, especially now that you're a professional photographer.

"—over there has a very specific type she goes after for girls," Steve mused, sipping his whiskey before continuing. "I mean, they always have green eyes and brunette—wait, that's not true. She had two red-headed girlfriends in our last year of university. They still had green eyes, though." 

"Oh," Wanda said, unsure what to say since she's never paid attention to the girls you were dating. On average, they were a brief fling, and only a few lasted longer than half a year. "I guess so?"

Wanda distantly thinks about how she dyed her hair auburn in her last year of university because she was looking for a change that year and Natasha was insistent that she'd look amazing. Wanda recalls you were a fan of the look.

"Yeah," Steve nodded along. "Ironically, they always look like you in some way. Check out that bartender now—long, wavy-haired brunette with green eyes. She's got thick, long lips and even does that dark eye-shadow makeup thingy like you."

Steve just laughed it off, finishing his drink, thinking nothing more of it before he started talking about Bucky.

But it was like something clicked into place in Wanda's brain. A daunting realization that she was wholly unprepared for and not equipped to do anything about. 

Wanda watched as the bartender clocked off for the night and dragged you into a corner booth, drinks in hand. It gave Wanda the perfect view that the bartender wore many rings just like she did. 

In the poor privacy of the dimly lit corner booth, there was a staunch and needy kiss from the two of you, and Wanda swallowed roughly. 

From here, if you were none the wiser, Wanda could be easily mistaken for the girl in the booth with you. 

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Sometimes, Wanda believes she's just being absolutely ridiculous. So what if you go after girls who share the same features as her? That didn't have to mean anything. You've always told Wanda she was beautiful, and it was perfect how you said it. 

It didn't feel insincere or creepy. It felt good to know her best friend thought she was absolutely gorgeous. But just because you thought she was beautiful doesn't mean you harbored secret feelings for her. 

You'd be insulted if you knew Wanda had ever thought that. She'd just be another one of those girls Wanda's seen you humble on multiple occasions when they found out you dated women, and they were worried you might have a crush on them. 

But then, Wanda couldn't stop thinking she actually might be one of those girls because then she'd think about if you didn't consider her like that, it wasn't about her looks but something about her personality that wasn't your type. 

And what could that be?

Wanda thought long and hard, trying to remember the girls you've introduced her to. 

Sometimes they were funny, and Wanda was funny. She made you laugh all the time. She specifically remembered one time in high school when she made you laugh so hard you peed your pants just a little. 

Sometimes they were intellectual, and while Wanda didn't have an IQ of 160, she did fairly well academically and was on the right track in her career. 

Sometimes they were charming, and Wanda was the type where she got more charming the more you got to know her. 

So, Wanda just doesn't understand. She's nowhere further with her thinking ever since this weird information has been bestowed upon her.

Maybe it all just means nothing. You just didn't feel that way about Wanda despite the type of girls you dated suggesting otherwise. You didn't need a reason for it, and maybe the fact you only felt friendship for her was the reason. 

"Wanna order pizza in tonight?"

Wanda turns her head from the tv and notices you've put your book down. "Hm, not really. We had pizza last week," Wanda shakes her head. 

"How about that Greek place that just opened up on Willington Ave?" You suggest. "Pretty sure I heard you grumbling about wanting Greek food earlier this week."

"I was not grumbling!" Wanda scoffs but smiles when you raise your eyebrow at her. "Okay, I was grumbling a little."

You snicker as you pull out your phone to order delivery. "Oh, sweet golden best friend of mine, whatever shall you do when you get married to Vis, who hates Greek food. Do I foresee a life of Greekless cuisine? Oh, the suffering you'll go through!"

"I don't need him to like it," Wanda slaps your arm, sticking her tongue out before she cuddles you. "I have you to eat it with."

You laugh unabashedly, a sound that Wanda's accustomed to hearing the joyful sound. "Better hope the person I marry also hates Greek cuisine. I don't know if I can live a life of eating double the Greek food. I love tzatziki sauce, but if I grow to hate it from eating it too much, I will make you suffer the consequences of that."

Your voice trails off as you focus on ordering food, unable to see the cogs in Wanda's head turning. 

It's all so easy. There's no tension, no electric vibes happening. Just best friends enjoying the banter and making plans to eat. 

It was all in Wanda's head, right? You're her best friend, so of course you'd know everything about her. 

The right type of friendship is fulfilling and soul-connecting, and that's what Wanda has with you. When you have a one-in-a-million connection like that, the line between friendship and romance is thin, isn't it?

Wanda hates Steve. She'd never think about this if it wasn't for Stupid Steve. She can hear his dumb laugh, blissfully ignorant about the observation bomb he dropped upon her. 

"Do you wanna get ice cream after?" You ask, throwing your phone to the side. "I'll even treat you to the gelato despite knowing I'm going to suffer through your crazy farts later."

"Oh my god, I'm going to trap you under the blanket with it just for that!" 

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Within two months, Wanda forgets about it. Forgets, as in that she decides to drop it (let it linger in the deep depths of her brain that she refuses to acknowledge), and resolves that Steve has no brain cells and has no idea what he's saying. 

"Have you seen my strapless black top?" Wanda shouts from her room with the door open. "The one with the v-shaped front!"

"In your closet!" You yelled back from the living room, not taking your eyes off your phone. 

"I can't find it," Wanda whines, and she hears you sigh as you get up. The footsteps approach her room, and she finds you standing at the door with an unimpressed look.

"I don't want to hear it," Wanda sniffs. 

"Hear what, brat?" You say with a brow raised before you start rummaging through her closet. The nickname was a joke you started that Wanda was entirely a spoiled person, exhibiting bratty behavior at times. "That I'm not gonna be your roommate forever, so you need to learn to fold it yourself before putting it away?"

Wanda makes grumbling noises that are mostly nonsensical but smiles when you pull out the top she was looking for. 

"You are the apple of my eye, stinky," Wanda grabs the top from you before she runs into her washroom to briefly change into it. 

"A match made in heaven, yeah, yeah," you roll your eyes with good humor. "Hurry up, Natasha will kill us if we're late for Yelena's birthday. They're on an upwards mend in their relationship, so she's been so unbearably uptight lately to make sure nothing goes wrong."

"I know, I know," Wanda mutters, carefully pulling the top over her head to not ruin her makeup. 

"Alright, I'll hail us a cab, meet me outside."

"Wait, wait!" Wanda calls out. "I need help putting on my necklace."

You chuckle, walking back just as Wanda steps out of the bathroom with the delicate necklace she wants to wear. 

"Alright, alright, relax," you tell her. "Your accent gets really strong when you're stressed."

"You're stressing me out by rushing me," Wanda scrunches her nose even though you can't see it. "I'm also stressed knowing that you have to rush me, or I'll spend the party getting lectured by Natasha."

Wanda's voice comes out husked with the accent, something she's struggled between hating or loving, but mostly loving since you've expressed how lovely it is.

You grab the necklace from her hand, and Wanda moves her hair out of the way. The routine of it all starts to bleed the tension out of her shoulders. 

Then, that horrible Stupid Steve Sentence kicks into her brain. 

 It's only as you put your arms over, placing the necklace against Wanda's chest, and focusing on trying to get the clasp in. Wanda can feel your warm breath against her neck, summoning goosebumps along her arms. You're so close, and she can feel the heat of your body radiating onto her, your fingers just barely brushing against her.

The tension comes suddenly, squeezing inside her chest as her breathing slows and shakes. Her body warms in an unexpected way. 

"Ah, got it," you say, but Wanda can only focus on your voice and breath on the shell of her ear. "Cute necklace but the clasp is so annoying."

You pull away and start walking off. "C'mon, I bet if we tip our taxi driver an extra $20 bucks, they'll speed and we can pray we're on time."

Wanda's left standing there, knowing she probably sounds like she's fresh out of Sokovia with how stressed she is. Her right eye twitches.

Was that...Wanda gulps. Was that sexual tension?

And was she the only one who felt it?

Fuck.

She's going to kill Steve.

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Natasha's absolutely neurotic when they arrive. It's just a simple backyard party, but it almost looks like a wedding venue with all the catering and flowers. 

Wanda's pretty sure Natasha's only being like this because she's overthinking about whether to cling to Yelena or give her sister some space to mingle with others. She seems to be sizing up Kate, who Yelena might be seeing, but it hasn't been confirmed. 

Yelena looks between exasperated with Natasha and secretly happy about the entire thing. Wanda can sympathize with her. After all, she's also a little sister, and Pietro can also be way too overprotective. Sometimes she's glad he's abroad in Europe for work while she remains in New York, but she misses him more often than she admits. 

"Alright, alright, Natasha," you groan, and Wanda's mind slips back into the conversation. "We're 3 minutes late, relax, will you? Damn, are you always gonna be like this until you and Yelena get back into whatever sibling bond you had before? Hope you're just like this with us because otherwise, you're gonna scare away all her friends, and she's going to hate you."

"Oh my god, do you think she'll really hate me?" Natasha bites her bottom lip in worry while looking around at all the people that they can only assume she's nagged about being late or whatever mishap. 

"Oh, man," you sigh, putting your hand on her shoulders before pushing her towards the bar. "You need some drinks and maybe some desserts in you."

Wanda's about to follow you when you turn around and nod your head in a different direction. She looks over and sees you're nodding toward Vision.

"You should go say hi to him," you tell her. "You've been complaining about not seeing him all last week, even though I don't know why you guys won't just FaceTime, but I digress. Come find me later, or I'll find you after."

You look over at Natasha, who's peering on her tippy toes to see if she can find Yelena.

"And, hopefully, I'll have ditched this nutjob," you whisper conspiratorially and laugh when Natasha turns around to smack your arm. 

"I heard that!"

Wanda chuckles as you walk off with Natasha while she turns and heads toward Vision. Despite how she was complaining about not seeing Vision last week because she did miss him, her expression was sour as she made her way toward him. 

Vision spots her immediately and waves at her with a warm smile. Wanda feels herself somewhat loosened at his expression. They'd also been friends a long time before they started on-and-off dating, so at the very least, she does miss his easy friendship. 

"Hey," Vision hugs her, slightly rubbing her back before he pulls away but keeps his arm around her. "It's been a while; you look lovely."

"Thanks," Wanda smiles with a shrug. She looks around and sees he's standing with Tony and Pepper. "How are you guys?"

"Could be better," Tony sighs dramatically. "Natasha won't let me do any of my cool party tricks as if I'm going to ruin her little sister's party. If anything, I could make it the party of the century!"

Pepper rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "We were just talking about how we're thinking of going to the Bahamas for vacation in December and escaping the cold. We've invited you and Vision along since it's been awhile since we've all gone together. Of course, we can also invite Bug and Natasha."

"Oh," Wanda says for a lack of anything else to say. She doesn't know how to feel about it, but she peers over at Vision, who's just smiling at her and looking eager about it. 

"I need another drink if I'm going to suffer through this party," Tony sighs. "Maybe I can convince Yelena instead!" He grins, dragging Pepper along, and they walk off together. 

"So, what do you think?" Vision asks when they're alone. "I didn't want to reply on your behalf since I wasn't sure, but I think it'd be good for us. I've missed you," Vision pauses as if he's about his next words but then says, "a lot."

"Yeah, me too," Wanda starts to say, but then her brain gets all haywire because it feels like a lie. She did miss him, but did she miss him a lot? "I think."

"You think?"

Wanda wants to smack her forehead because she didn't mean to say that out loud. "I mean, I was complaining a lot that I haven't seen you in a while all last week."

"Yeah, work has just been overwhelming. I get so tired after work, I just can't keep up with the texting or calls."

But you can, Wanda thinks. Granted, you're her roommate, so it's easier. But even when you have to go on work trips, you regularly text her no matter what time and squeeze in a quick call, even if it's just to say goodnight. 

The entire thing makes Wanda bite her tongue because why was she even thinking about that? That was completely irrelevant to Vision. 

Then—because as if just thinking about you wasn't enough—her eyes trail across the room, and the scene before her makes Wanda even more confused about her feelings.

You're standing there with Natasha at the bar, but it looks like Natasha's calling someone over to introduce you to them.

Another brunette with long, wavy hair, like she just had a blowout done. Wanda's not 100% sure from this distance, but she has an inkling that the brunette also has green eyes. She's wearing a white halter top and wide-legged sage green pants. She wears a lot of rings, but her makeup is lighter and more summery compared to Wanda's darker, smokey eye makeup.

In short, this woman was the clean girl aesthetic version of Wanda. 

And you look interested. 

This was ridiculous, Wanda fumes, feeling her stomach sink and cheeks flare hot in anger. As quick as the anger came, it dissipated.

Why was she so angry?

She feels betrayed, and her thoughts are turning very ugly. Wanda is definitely not being a girl's girl right now with how much she's thinking she's better than the girl in front of you. 

But that just makes everything so much more confusing. 

"Wanda?"

Wanda turns her head back to Vision. He looks concerned, and even when his eyes trail toward what Wanda's staring at, there's no additional reaction. He's not upset that she's staring at you, and that has to mean something, right?

It must mean there was never a concern about how Wanda might've felt about you. Sure, there were a few things Wanda couldn't be without, and you were one of them, but nobody can't be without their best friend. 

No one had ever blinked twice about you and Wanda.

Except now.

And that person was Wanda herself. 

The more Wanda thought about the entire thing, the more she became curious. The idea of you dating people who looked like Wanda was intriguing. She wanted to ask questions but didn't know what to ask.

It might mean nothing, but it also might mean something. 

And if it does mean something, Wanda wants to know what exactly it is. 

Therefore, Wanda needs nothing in her way to find out the truth and exactly what she wants, regardless of the answer. 

This was insane, wasn't it? Wanda's always been ambivalent about dating women. She's never gone out of her way to try it since she had Vision. Never mind entertaining thoughts about dating her best (girl)friend. And now, she was giving everything up in the pursuit of finding out what it could mean that her best friend was dating her lookalikes—and why she cared.

Wanda doesn't even know what she'll want to do with that information. 

Wanda looks at Vision, peering at his features she's always found handsome. When she thinks back, she's not even sure why she complained to you about how she hasn't seen or heard from him lately. She hadn't even gone out of her own way to do something about it.

"I'm not going on the trip. I don't think I actually missed you like that."

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The girl introduced to you was named Raye, Natasha's coworker that recently moved from Nashville. It was also confirmed she has green eyes, though they had specks of brown in them. She was a southern belle with a bold attitude, witty, and a wicked sense of humor. All in all, undeniably charismatic. 

At least, that's what you told her in private because all Wanda could feel was unrestricted aggravation with the other girl. The southern twang made Wanda's eye twitch, mostly because she knew you were head over heels for accents.  

"And then before I knew it, I was panicked and more lost than a blindfolded turkey on thanksgiving!"

You burst out laughing while Wanda's expression is stony, but when you look at Wanda, she forces a smile on her lips.

"Hahaha," Wanda dryly let out. "So funny."

But it wasn't. What the fuck did that even mean?

Raye continues to talk while you listen with rapt interest, and Wanda takes the time to observe your features in a way she's done many times before but with a different mindset. 

Your lips are curved in a smile, glistening from your chapstick. They're shapely, and they look soft. It rivals her favorite feature of yours, which is your eyes. They've always been so expressive with her, and Wanda's been around long enough that she knows what every expression means. She can tell when they glint with mischievousness or are soft with immense compassion and empathy. 

"So, what did you think of Raye?" You ask Wanda as you leave the party.

"She's cool, I guess," Wanda answers nonchalantly. 

The rest of the party was excruciating between Raye constantly hanging around you and Wanda also being too nervous to be alone with you. 

"Really cool," you sigh with a grin. "Glad I got her number. It's been a while since I've met someone so funny."

Was she funny, though? Wanda wonders.

"Funnier than me?" Wanda finds herself asking.

"No one could be funnier than you, brat," you smirk. "I almost peed myself laughing again when you almost knocked off Yelena's cake. I thought Natasha was about to enter into a coma." You snicker while Wanda rolls her eyes with a smile. 

"Glad I can always give you the biggest laughs, stinky."

Wanda glances over at your face, recognizing the excitement by the brightness in them. It's just another reminder that, as your best friend, she knows you like the back of her hand. 

But lately, when Wanda watches you pick up girls, she can tell when they're heady with desire. That look hasn't been directed at her, and Wanda wants to know what it'd be like if it were.

Wanda recalls the night you kissed the bartender and imagines if it had been her instead. She pictures your hand sliding across her jaw and cheek while your other pulls her closer at the waist. 

It's horrifying when a slow pit of arousal builds in Wanda's gut and...other regions. It feels utterly frightening and wrong like she's betraying the friendship for having and then reacting to such thoughts about you. 

But there's another part—the part that tells Wanda there's nobody in this world that she loves more than you. The mere idea of ever being apart from you was unfathomable. Wanda could and has endured so many things, and it would always be okay as long as she had you. 

So, knowing that Southern Belle Raye has the potential to be more than a one-night stand to you, Wanda realizes that she has a very small window to not only come to terms with her newfound feelings but also act on them as well. 

If this didn't go well, Wanda would definitely murder Steve.

PART TWO

[kermittedfelony]

y’all i’m watching warrior nun. up to s2 ep 4 so pls no spoilers but HOLY FUCK the hurt comfort fics that my brain keeps creating…………

so fucken GOOD

if only i havé motivation to write 😭 bruh i havé like 3 solid WIPS that i need to finish goddamn. fics are straight up harder to write than uni essays i stg

someone hype me up and i might write tomorrow?!

[whatthefuxkkk]

For the tmnt fans that need to hear this 👍

[scarylarry376]

Tried something new? sorry it took so long omg Mutant Mayhem Leo high school burnout hc.. I have no regrets other than the fact this took me three days. Here's a comic I made for it

Side note! the first chapter of my fic is out! and trust me, I am NOT holding back the angst💗

You can read it here !

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Renegade

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: A rough night lands Matt on your doorstep, bleeding and overstimulated. It’s your job to remind him of his strengths and bring him back from the brink of despair. 

warnings: swearing, Matt’s depression, slight violence

a/n: This fic takes place in the Wake Up verse, but you do not need to have read all of that series for this one to make sense. @babygrlmurdock requested that I write a fic based on Taylor Swift’s Renegade so here is that! SO sorry for how long this took me, dear. I’ve had it written for over a month but I was waiting until Wake Up was all posted. I hope you like it!!

w/c: 2.8k

He’s not quite sure what triggered the fight or flight response, nor the spiral of doubt that followed. Maybe it was the stress of a week of cases with impenetrable prosecutors. Or maybe the way that the old man he’d nearly failed to save from a robbery gone wrong had used the same soap that Stick once used. Regardless, Matt was currently drowning in a series of flashbacks from his childhood. 

The rough voice of his old mentor pierced his ears, even though he was alone as he hurdled from roof to roof towards his apartment. You coward. You sniveling weakling. Get back out there and fight like a man. 

His breathing was rapid and his heart felt like it was going to fall out of his rib cage at any moment. Willing his brain to shut Stick up, he vaulted to the next building. 

Apparently this was not what Stick’s ghost wanted him to do. Quit your fucking whining and turn around, kid. Or are you too fucking soft to fight bumbling idiots now? Worthless sack of shit. 

As illogical as it would seem in the future, Matt could feel Stick gaining on him. Tears were pouring down his face as he begged the vision to leave him alone. 

A cruel laugh rang in his mind. I see the Devil still can’t handle the truth. Isn’t justice all about people taking accountability, Matty? Are you so useless that you can’t even own up to your stupid mistakes?

Feeling a withered hand on his wrist, his steps faltered and he careened into a gravel pit on the roof before him. Scrambling away from the intangible figure, he screamed. “NO! No, get away. Get away, Stick!” His back collided with concrete as he reached the perimeter of the surface he’d crash landed on. Fists clenching painfully, his head darted around wildly as he tried to find any sign of the man. 

The same mirthless laugh sounded again, booming like a pistol at an execution. Away from what, Matty? I’m part of you now. Your crazy ass will never be rid of me. 

Hobbling to his feet, Matt took a breath and tried to regain any sense of direction, hurling his wobbly body towards his apartment once again. 

His knees finally gave out when he reached the roof of his building. Stupid. Worthless. Crazy. Useless. The expanding list of insults circled his frazzled mind, adding to his frenzy. Scurrying inside and down the stairs, he ripped his face free of his mask. Panting, he sank back to the floor, trying to calm down. Yanking off his gloves and beginning to undo the suit, he was taunted once again. 

You think a pansy like you will be able to save the people you claim to love? You couldn’t save your father. You couldn’t save Elektra. And, when the day comes, you won’t save her. 

“Shut UP!” Matt roared, hurling his billy club in the direction of the voice. Glass shattered in the distance. Pressing his palms to the floor, he rested his head on the wood and tried to force the new wave of thoughts out of his mind—this time focused on the inevitability of your lifeless body in his arms. Fumbling with the suit's pockets, he grasped his burner phone for dear life. Shaking hands finding the buttons he needed, he held his breath as the phone rang once, twice. 

After four rings, when his heart was seconds from breaking, you answered. 

“Hey darling, you ok?” Your voice was hoarse with sleep and he cringed as he realized he’d woken you up at some sinful hour. Useless. You won’t save her. 

“Love?” You tried again, hesitant to use his real name when you had no idea who was on the other line. 

“Yah. I-I’m fine.” Matt stifled a sob poorly. “So—Sorry to wake you.” 

“That’s alright, baby. You can wake me whenever you need to, remember?” A brief memory of you consenting to his late night requests for medical help flashed through his mind at your prompting. “Where are you? Are you hurt?” 

“Not hurt. ‘M at home.” He answered shakily. “Need you, please.” 

“O-ok! Yep, I am coming right now. Give me a minute to get there, I have to get a cab—“ You thought aloud, but Matt interrupted you. 

“NO! No. It’s late. It’s not safe. I’ll come to you.” He cursed his lack of consideration for your safety. You won’t save her. Stupid. 

“Are you sure, love? It’s not a problem!” He could hear your growing concern and it filled his eyes with tears again. 

“I’m sure. Is that ok?” 

“Of course that’s ok. Always, my darling. Did you want me to stay on the phone with you?” He sobbed as you parroted the question he always asked you when you called him. 

“No. I’ll be there—be there soon.” He managed. 

“Ok, love. Get here safe, please.” 

After what felt like hours, a soft tapping on your window alerted you to your boyfriend’s whereabouts. 

Rushing to help him through the small frame, Matt collapsed into your arms, not exactly giving you the relief you’d optimistically hoped for. But, he was alive. 

“Hey, hey, I gotcha. You’re safe now, my love. Where are you hurt?” 

Matt gave a pitiful shake of his head. 

“You’re—you’re not hurt?” Your question was laced with your genuine confusion. 

Matt shook his head again, tears pooling in his haunted eyes. 

“Ok, well…let’s get you cleaned up and into comfier clothes.” You glanced at Matt’s rumpled Devil suit. He’d removed pieces but hadn’t changed out of it, apparently. 

Maneuvering the vigilante into your bathroom, you frowned at him. “Shower?” You asked, but Matt whimpered so you quickly pivoted. “Ok love, no shower. That’s alright.” 

Thinking for a moment, you gently set him down on the lid of the toilet and started the tap. Grabbing the softest cloth you could find, you soaked it in scalding water. Letting it cool for a moment, you began unclasping the body portion of his suit. Slipping the tight fabric off of his torso, you inspected the damage before getting to work. 

Swiping the cloth as tenderly as you could across his skin, you started by cleaning his face. Streaks of dirt, sweat, and blood mingled on his porcelain skin, but they quickly vanished under your touch. 

“If it’s too hot, or you want to stop, just give me a shove or something, ok?” You’d never seen Matt in such a state of distress and you wanted him to retain his power of choice as much as possible. 

Moving down his pummeled body, you carefully cleaned his neck and torso. Gently turning him to clean his back, you bit back a gasp, only just now registering the scrapes and bruises along his side. It almost looked like road rash. What did you get yourself into, darling?

Taking extra caution to not aggravate the injured space, you cleaned every inch of skin currently exposed to you. 

“Ok. The top half of you is clean. I’m going to treat the scrapes on your side then we can finish washing up. That ok?” You waited for his small nod before grabbing the neosporin from the first aid kit. 

Once Matt was cleaned and his wounds were treated, you guided him to your bedroom where you provided him with a set of fresh clothes that he’d purposefully left there. Sliding the sleeves of the sweatshirt over his trembling fists, you let out a breath. 

“All done, my darling. Did you want to get into bed?” 

Matt nodded and you obediently began to tuck him in, sliding in next to him once he was settled. Stiffly, he repositioned himself so that he was laying across your chest, one ear over your heart. Finally, he gave a sigh, going limp across your torso. 

“There’s my sweet boy.” You murmured, scratching at his scalp in the way he adored. “It’s just us. We’re both safe.” 

The two of you were wrapped in silence for a bit before Matt’s demons reared their ugly heads once more. 

Coward. Weakling. Fuck up. Matt whined, burrowing his face into your chest as fresh tears cascaded down his cheeks. 

“Hey, what happened, Matty? Where does it hurt? What’s wrong?” Your hand stilled against his head and he felt the tears come faster. Grasping the hand in his hair, he begged.  

“Please don’t stop.” 

Immediately, you began running your fingers through his fluffy hair again. “Ok love. I won’t stop. What hurts?” 

“Head. Too loud.” 

“I’m being too loud?” Your voice softened before he could respond. 

Shaking his head, he took a stuttering breath. “My thoughts. Too loud.” 

It was starting to click for you. Matt had offhandedly mentioned that this could happen after his nighttime activities. Sometimes, he bottled up so much that it all came pouring out unexpectedly and overwhelmed him. You weren’t a stranger to the feeling, so you offered a way forward. 

“I’m sorry they’re too loud, my love. Would you like to tell me what they’re saying?” 

Matt shook his head miserably. “Can you—“ He stuttered, taking a deep breath before attempting to finish the thought. “Do you remember when we talked about me not being enough?” 

You hummed in affirmation, waiting for him to continue. 

“Can you…can you tell me again? That I’m…good?” 

“Oh Matty, of course I can!” Your own eyes threatened to well up at his impossibly quiet request. Your poor boy was suffering so intensely and all he had needed was a few kind words? 

You tugged him upwards just a touch so that he could bury his face in your neck. He’d told you once that feeling you talk while being wrapped in your scent was comforting. You were hoping that would be the case tonight. 

“You are good, my beloved Matthew Michael Murdock. So so good. You amaze me every single day. You are so compassionate and you save lives every single day. Not just as the Devil, but as Matt Murdock the phenomenal defense attorney too.” You poked his chest and he nuzzled further into your neck, sniffling still. 

“And you’re smart. The smartest person I’ve ever known, truly. The ways that you craft arguments and problem solve are unmatched. Like, a few weeks ago when you won that manslaughter case by showing that the woman had CPTSD. That was fucking incredible, darling, and you spared her children from losing their mother. Your intelligence is life changing, my love.” 

Matt’s tears had slowed, but you could still feel his shaky breathing against your throat. You pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose before continuing. 

“You are so brave. In and out of the suit, honey. The number of times you’ve put yourself at risk to better the city is innumerable. You’ve faced threats that even the Avengers refused to take on. You’re a hero, Matt. A fantastic one.” Shifting so that you were face to face, you pressed your forehead to his. 

“You are good and sweet and smart and brave and also the best boyfriend a girl could ever ask for. I’ve never met someone who loves so passionately. You make me feel like I’m a priority and your devotion is inspiring, love. I know you worry about splitting your time between me and your firm and the city but I promise you’re the best partner I’ve ever had. I love you so much, darling.” 

Matt was trembling in your arms, fighting back more sobs. You pulled him impossibly closer, placing gentle kisses on his cheeks, jaw, and forehead. “I love you, Matthew Murdock. You are magnificent and I will tell you over and over until you believe it.” 

“Thank you.” Matt murmured against your neck as he nestled into your embrace. “I’m sorry, I—“

You pressed a gentle kiss at the corner of his mouth to interrupt his self-loathing. “No need to thank me or apologize, my love. I’m here for you, good days and bad.” 

Wrapped in your embrace, Matt felt the ghosts of his past failures dissipate. He let his tired eyes fall closed as you massaged his scalp, swallowing to ease the pain in his dry throat. You shifted underneath him and he moaned subconsciously, tightening his grip on your waist. Chuckling beneath him, you brushed a hand over the hair on his forehead. 

“I know you want to be glued to my side until we both pass out, but you need water and painkillers. And, given what I know about your nightly routine, probably a snack?” Your reasonable tone did nothing to appease the Matt-shaped octopus latched onto you, who growled and held you closer. 

“You’re a cute little devil, you know that? Did you want to stay here or come with me to the kitchen?” In lieu of a response, Matt shifted so that his leg was hooked over your hips, smiling at the resulting jolt of arousal from you. “Matthew, you know I adore this weighted blanket position, but you need water. At the bare fucking minimum. Drink a glass or two for me and I’ll let you cuddle me for hours.” With another low growl, Matt rolled off of you, giving you the opportunity to slide off of the bed. Taking his hand, you carefully pulled him to the kitchen. 

Filling a glass with cool water you handed him a couple of painkillers and narrowed your eyes, “Drink all of that, please. I see your stage sips, you goon.” Matt’s lips quirked up and he dutifully switched to actually drinking the water. 

Winding yourself around his waist, you nuzzled into his cheek with a quick kiss. “Thank you. Are you hungry at all?” Matt pondered for a moment before giving a shrug so you handed him a granola bar, taking the now empty glass from him. With your arm still hooked around his waist, you drew soft patterns on his hip while he ate. Gracefully tossing the wrapper into the trash, Matt pulled you into an unyielding embrace. 

“I love you.” He whispered into your hair. You squeezed your arms around his waist. 

“I love you too. Now let’s get some sleep or I’ll be unbearable tomorrow.” Matt huffed a laugh and clasped your hand firmly as you padded back into the bedroom. 

Drawing in a breath, Matt shuddered awake as the lack of your warmth finally became too much for his subconscious to bear. Whining involuntarily, he let his eyelids slide open as he searched for your presence. Thankfully, it didn’t take more than a moment for him to realize that you were in the kitchen. Your steady heartbeat was surrounded by the soft scraping of a whisk and the smell of brown sugar. 

Scrubbing at his irritated eyes, he sighed, debating his next move. While he always craved your touch, he really was not ready to start his day yet. As if you had his superhuman senses, you set down whatever you were cooking in the kitchen and retreated to the sanctuary of his room. He heard your breath hitch as your eyes landed on him and it squeezed his heart in a way he was not overly familiar with. 

“Mornin’ sleepyhead. Feeling ok?” Your voice was soft as you sat on the mattress inches from his hip. Hand sliding into his hair, you leaned back onto the pillows gazing at his pretty face. 

Submitting to your hair petting happily, Matt made a noise akin to a purr. Giggling, you pressed closer, kneading at his scalp with a bit more vigor. “Mmm feeling fine, I guess.” His voice was rough from his breakdown the night before, forcing him to clear his throat before continuing. “Head hurts a bit.” 

Clucking in sympathetic disapproval, you lessened the pressure you were applying to his crown. “I’ll grab you some water and Advil. I was about to make some pancakes, would you like a plate?” Matt nodded, burying himself in your chest and placing sweet kisses along your collarbone. 

“If I have time. I should probably get dressed. I’m guessing it’s about time for us to leave?” 

Pressing a kiss to his temple, you shifted uneasily. “About that…I may have called Foggy and asked if you could have a day off? Before you get upset, I told him that I had a bad week and wanted you to stay with me today.” 

Matt felt the pressure in his chest lift and he smiled. “I’m not upset, sweetness. Do you have the day off too?” 

You nodded against his hair, heart still jogging with anxiety about his reaction. Matt shifted so that his forehead could fall against yours. Pressing a kiss to your nose, he cupped your cheek with his hand. “Thank you, angel. I’d be honored to spend the day with you. Since you need me so much.” He pinched your side and you squealed. 

The rest of the morning flowed by slowly, complete with stacks of incredible pancakes and syrupy kisses. Matt’s intrusive thought had quieted, for now, replaced with your beautiful laugh and steady pulse. 

[good--merits-accumulated]

shoutout to Dead Poets Society (1989) for taking the intensely British genre of boys' boarding school drama and making it unerringly American

[the-peak-tmnt]

OK HERE WE GO BROSKIS, CHAPTER 14

[astrobei]

he’s fine, he’s just in his sam winchester era

day 3 of @bylerween2023: demons, devils, and exorcisms. nooooo will don’t drink the demongorgon blood noooo

[slightlyunconventional]

hi snz squad (Sorry. Not funny.) i got some food for the h/awks fans FINALLY sorry for the wait i had writers block for like a month straight 😜 love that. anyway heres about 1.7k of allergic h/awks and some really badly written fighting/sparring LMAO enjoy!!

“You ready, birdie?” Dabi says, his lopsided grin wicked as usual.

“As I’ll ever be,” replies Hawks. The villain’s left hand is swallowed by bright cerulean flames, so hot there’s already faint plumes of smoke puffing out around it. In turn, Hawks draws his two longest feathers and sharpens them with ease, and raises them into a defensive position. He wonders, briefly, who’ll make the first move, then decides that these sparring sessions are for him to improve against fire; Dabi’s skills are perfectly fine as they are (Perhaps. He does sometimes think the man could do with some extra precision training, but he’s here to incinerate, not sauté, so who’s Hawks to judge?). Hawks lunges forward, feather-blades brandished, aiming straight for Dabi. Don’t hold back runs through his head over and over as he moves, the words Dabi keeps having to say to him every time they do this. It’s not Hawks’ fault he’s got such a hero complex. 

“Don’t hold back,” Dabi had said, flexing his wrists after their spar, “There’s no point in doing this if you aren’t gonna show me your full potential.”

Hawks had sighed. “Easier said than done, hot stuff.”

Dabi raised an eyebrow. “Is it?” he said, “You seem to be just fine facing off against any other villain when you’re on fuckin’ hero patrol.”

“That’s different, and you know it,” Hawks had replied, “This is training. I can’t just- make myself fight you properly without good reason.” He let out another long breath and drank from his water bottle.

“It’s cause we fucked, isn’t it?” Dabi had said, smirking. That had made Hawks splutter on his water. He glared indignantly at Dabi.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he declared. “You wish that was why.”

“Relax, I’m just messing,” said Dabi, with that shit-eating smirk still on his face. “Just fight harder next time, or whatever. Ain’t gonna learn anything if you don’t try.” He left the room, and Hawks had frowned after him.

Dabi sidesteps Hawks, but only just. Had he moved a millisecond later, Hawks’ blades would probably have been stuck in him. Whether that’s for the worse or the better, Hawks can’t decide - Dabi’ll probably chastise him for it later, but there’s only so much potential you can exhibit before stepping the boundary of actual murder. The villain’s blue flames have caught on the very edge of Hawks’ feather, and are creeping down its lengths with some pace, threatening to reduce the entire thing to ash. He quickly shakes it out and lifts the blades once again. If he can convince Dabi he’s planning on sticking this whole spar out melee-style, then maybe he can discreetly send some feathers behind for an ambush. He just needs to find the right moment. 

Then, Dabi raises his own hand and throws a stripe of glowing blue fire straight at Hawks. Right as he does so, Hawks takes his chance and releases a few medium-sized feathers, sending them to hover in position behind Dabi, ready to make their move from the rear. He ducks down, and just in time, too, as he feels the searing heat of Dabi’s attack barely inches from the top of his head. He does his best to ignore the sting in his eyes and how every blink threatens to send irritated tears sliding down his face, but it’s unexpected… that doesn’t tend to happen, and there’s normally a whole lot more fire involved in their fights than there is now. But, Dabi’s unrelenting nature doesn’t allow Hawks more than a moment of thought, and he’s almost instantly back upright, sharpened feathers pointing outwards, stalking Dabi back towards the wall. He keeps having to blink against his blurring vision, though, and it’s affecting his focus. If Dabi picks up on it, he doesn’t say anything. There’s still a thin plume of smoke issuing from his feather, too; those flames are no joke. Hawks crosses the feathers in his hands, preparing to drive forward and strike - if all goes to plan, Dabi will assume that’s all he’s going to do, and counterattack accordingly, then Hawks can compromise him with the feathers he has poised behind the villain. If all goes to plan.

And thankfully, it does, if you look past the single tiny snag. As predicted, Dabi releases a billowing explosion of fire straight forwards. Hawks’ blades are both ignited, but that’s neither here nor there, since he’s focused on bringing his other feathers back from behind Dabi, and up to his throat, mere millimetres away from his skin. They aren’t sharpened, but he doesn’t need to know that. Hawks knows he daren’t step into them to test. 

Dabi’s eyebrows lift up, his expression a mix of amused and impressed. “Not bad,” he says, glancing down towards the feathers at his throat. “Not exactly a technique that’ll work every time, but I didn’t see it coming, so that’s gotta count for something.”

Then comes that tiny snag. Hawks stops listening halfway through Dabi’s sentence when his sinuses start stinging like crazy, with such sharpness that it makes his eyes water even more than they already are. He sniffs, half testing the waters, half hoping it’ll make the sting go away, but unfortunately it only makes it worse. Just as Dabi lifts his hands up to incinerate the feathers in front of his neck so they can begin another round of sparring, Hawks sends said feathers rapidly towards the villain’s arms and pins him against the wall.

“Sorry, what–” he begins, startled.

Hawks lifts the fur-lined collar of his jacket and ducks down into it. For a moment, nothing happens, but–

“heHt’sSHHhue!”

Dabi pulls a face. “I swear to God, if you’re doing this and you’ve got a fucking c–”

“ah’hAH-! eH’SHHhyu! No, you cock, I don’t have a cold. I’m not that stupid.”

“You are, but okay,” Dabi says flatly, “Why do I have to be pinned to the fuckin’ wall?”

“‘Cause your psycho ass would probably attack me while I waahhs s-sn-hahh! hheh’sHHh’hiew!”

He pitches forward into his collar again, cutting himself off mid-sentence with a third desperate sneeze. They’re already getting harder to keep in check; and what the fuck is itching this badly? Sure, it’s mid-spring, and his hayfever’s probably acting up a bit, but no way in hell is it this bad. Maybe he’s just… sensitive today. He didn’t bother checking the pollen count this morning, so…

“You think I would do such a thing?” says Dabi dramatically in mock offence, “Sweet, innocent me?”

“Shut up. Yes, you absolutely woul- Jesus– h-haHh!...” Hawks’ breath catches sharply in his throat, but he’s exhaling shakily a moment later. 

“Lost it,” he says, only a little breathlessly, “You are the furthest thing from innocent and we both know that.”

The need to sneeze hasn’t left Hawks, despite the last one having eluded him. It’s laying dormant (for now), an incessant buzzing high in his nose that seems to also be accompanied by profusely watering eyes. He tries scrunching his nose to quell the feeling - it doesn’t help but rather slightly the opposite. Dabi arches an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You gonna let me go or what?”

“Uhh… oh! Right, sorry. Instinct, I guess,” Hawks says. He withdraws the feathers holding Dabi in place and the villain subsequently takes a few steps towards him. There’s still smoke rolling off of his arms, where he’d used his quirk, and it floats lazily upwards in greyish plumes. That smoke has always been mesmerising to Hawks, the way it curls and twists, almost as gracefully as Dabi’s flames themselves. It seems different to regular smoke, though, realistically it probably isn’t, and Hawks has just convinced himself it is so he has something else about Dabi to admire with childish adoration. The smell of it often clings to Dabi, though, fainter, obviously, but it’s still distinct if you’re up close. It’s filling the air now, the bitter scent comforting, strong, but stinging, and–

“-ah’hHahH-?!” Caught completely off guard, Hawks desperately draws in a staggered breath before he’s truly able to comprehend it. 

“hh’heHSHHh-iihHSCHHh’ue! Huuhh… fucking Jesus–” The double volleys through him with unexpected force, leaving him more than a little winded (but almost certainly not finished).

Dabi’s staring at him now, his expression half concerned, half incredulous. Can’t exactly blame him. He opens his mouth to say something, but Hawks is already cutting him off with another sneeze.

“haH’iihtTSHHhyu!”

“So, about that cold you don’t have?” Dabi says, after Hawks has recovered - for now - with a series of pitiful sniffles and a less than kind rub at his nose with one gloved hand. 

“No, it’s–” his voice wavers slightly as he speaks, “it’s not that, I think it’s, ihh-it’s–”

Dabi shakes his head. “Sneeze first, speak after.”

“Rihhh– right, yeah I– hah-hhaHH’sSHHuuhh! ehHISHHhue! Jeez, okay, done now..” Hawks isn’t one to sneeze loudly per se - they’re usually softer, fairly subdued - but these ones are well on their way there. They’ve got the same intonation as usual, but with the intensity amped up a shocking degree. He’s not quite used to it.

“Done, done?” 

“Yeah, whatever– ‘m not sick, I think it’s your-” Hawks gestures vaguely at Dabi with one hand, and the latter’s eyebrow raises again, “-yourhhHehHTSChhnn!”

“What did I just say?” Dabi says, exasperated, and maybe a little fond.

“Leave me alone, that one didn’t give me any warning-!” whines Hawks in response, “You are so mean to me.”

“I know. Now spit it out, you’ve got me on the edge of my seat,” replies the villain dryly. 

Hawks rolls his still-watery eyes. “Shut up. It’s your smoke, I think,” he finally gets out.

Dabi looks slightly perplexed by this, and he voices it, “Never bothered you before.”

“No, I know, but,” He needs desperately to sneeze again. It’s all-consuming, but he’s determined to at least get a sentence out; “spring allergies’re making me s-sensitive to it.. I think that’s it, anyway–hhah sorry, I reahhllyneedto-hhiihSHHh-ehhH’shHHuue! Ugh.”

“Oh. Okay,” says Dabi, “so probably best we take a break for today, then?”

“Mm, yeah,” Hawks replies, knuckling at his nose. 

“Postmature bless you, by the way,” Dabi says with a funny look. Hawks nearly laughs.

“...Postmature?” 

“Yeah, like the opposite of premature. Is that the opposite of premature? Screw off, you’ve got me questioning myself now,” he replies, trying and failing to hide a stupid smile.

“It is now, I s’pose,” says Hawks, not at all fondly, “Thanks.”

[bubblyhearts87-14]

How to Fall in Love in 5 Snacks

notes: so i super love theater and i came up with this idea while I was at one. My main account has other asks so I thought it would be fun to post here instead. Don't expect future fics to be this long, they normally aren't lol. Also I may or may not write a fic about Mikey and his person in this fic 🤷 who knows 🙈 This was written by Hearts (you can tell my the notes being green and the divider being green!)

Popcorn and one water

Leo saw her almost as soon as he entered the theater. She was at the counter, across the busy lobby, wearing a name tag. Leo suddenly wished he had supervision so he could out her name from all the way over here.

“I'm gonna go get a snack.” Leo informed Donnie who likely gave a snarky reply but Leo was far too invested in getting closer to her. He was surprised that he hadn't seen her around before, since she looked like she was in his grade.

 She had a sour expression on her face, looking dull and monotonous. Not fully a frown but definitely not a smile, her eyes darting away before they could meet anyone else's. It made Leo nervous that she was uncomfortable.

Either way, he was determined to swallow his anxiety and get a snack (or rather use getting a snack as a guise to learn her name.) 

Leo patiently waited in line, tapping his fingers against the fabric of his jeans. His heart beat erratically in his chest, sweat collecting in his hands. He tried to wipe it away just as it was his turn to get concessions. 

“Hi, what can I get you?” She said, her voice surprisingly friendly for such an….unpleasant expression. 

“Can I get a……” Leo faltered, realizing he hadn't thought of what to get yet. He glanced at the menu trying to figure out what to get before he frustrates you or the people in line. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Can I get popcorn and a bottle of water?” Leo finally said, hoping you wouldn't think his choice was dumb. Was it dumb? Should he have gotten a candy bar? Or maybe he should have gotten a soda instead? 

“Alright, coming right up.” She said cheerfully, turning around to grab a water bottle from the fridge. She leaned over the counter, standing on her tip-toes (Leo couldn't help but find that adorable) to hand the water to him. Leo shivered when your fingers brushed against his, his green skin gaining a pinkish tint. 

Leo finally glanced at her nametag, the sound of her name repeating over and over again in his head. It sounded so nice, so pretty, so lovely. He wanted to keep it locked up in his brain, place it on a shelf and make sure your name never gets forgotten and left to the dust. 

Finally he got his popcorn, yet again his heart fluttered when your hand touched his. Was it normal to have heart palpitations over minor touch? 

“Enjoy the show!” She said, giving Leo a small smile. He felt like the luckiest turtle in the world.

“You too, [Name]!” Leo said, taking a moment to process. Then he proceeded to die of cringes. She wasn't even watching the show since she was working! 

Leo quickly walked away before he could see your reaction to his absolute idiocy. 

How was he already so far gone?

2. Two hershey bars and one bag of gummies

“Leeeeoooooooo, can you please get me a snack?” Mikey whined, not even five seconds after Leo had returned with his own snacks. Not that he was complaining, since his brain was still on the counter where you handed him his popcorn and water.

Leo's hands still tingled, like all the atoms inside his body were doing a little dance right where your skin has brushed up against his. God, he felt ridiculous. (Donnie would most certainly label him a simp if he could hear Leo's thoughts.) 

“Alright fine, I'll get your snack.” Leo conceded, acting as if he wasn't ecstatic to see you again. Even with his last moment with you making Leo crumple up with cringe, he still likes you. 

[Name.] 

He wondered if you could tell how much you already make his heart pound and make his head feel like it's underwater. Like he's drowning quick and fast but Leo found he doesn't mind if this is his death. He liked the way you made him feel.

Leo put his own stuff down in his chair, using his ninja skills to avoid getting trapped in the crowd. Normally this sort of event wasn't for Leo, it's crowded and busy and Leo doesn't know this musical. But Mikey begged for them all to go so they could support his friend.  

He had never been happier to do something Mikey wants. 

Leo weaved his way through the hoard of people, making sure to avoid getting stuck in the monstrously long bathroom line. Finally, he made it out into the lobby eyes darting around until they spotted you.

She seemed to notice Leo too, as time slowed down. Her lips quirked into a smile, eyes crinkling like just made an inside joke with him. 

The blue clad turtle got into line, trying not to seem impatient even though he really really wanted to shove everyone out of line. That would be rude of him. 

He couldn't help wanting to see her! But he could control his…aggressive urges. (Maybe Raph was rubbing off on Leo a little bit.) 

After what felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds, it was finally Leo's turn. He approached the counter trying to suppress the dorky grin on his face.

"Hello again." She said, her eyes watching his face carefully. His skin itched like her sight was physically touching him.

"Hi, again. My brother wanted some snacks so I'm back." Leo explained, although almost immediately regretting it. Was it too much information? Was he rambling? Did she think he is a weirdo?

"If my sister was here she would make me get her snacks too." She replied, gifting Leo the chance to hear her delightful laugh. It was soft and quiet, repeating itself in his brain like a record that never stops turning.

He wanted to keep talking to you, maybe bond over having siblings, but there were people behind hin who were growing impatient. Leo only hopes to see you after the show.

"Can I have two hershey bars and some gummies?" Leo asked, feeling light and airy. Although disappointed he has to go as soon as you give him the food. She handed it to him, her gentle fingers wrapped around the packages as they brushed against his calloused skin.

"Enjoy the snacks." She said, with a small smile. Leo returned the smile, not saying anything yet in fear of saying something cringe again. He can't control the things he says around you.

As he turned around he could have sworn he heard you mutter, "See you soon, cutie."

Leo really hoped his brothers wanted more snacks soon.

3. One pack of cookies and a Sprite

The musical was a lot better than Leo had anticipated. The story was interesting and the songs weren't obnoxious. Plus Leo could see how much Mikey was enjoying seeing his friend up stage.

"Ughh, I need some soda. Dude go get me some and a snack too." Raph said, shoving some money in Leo's hands just as the lights started coming back on. It was intermission, or rather the little break in between acts so the actors can have a break. At least that's how Mikey explained it to Leo.

Leo was grateful for the intermission since it meant he had another chance to see [Name]. It seemed things were going very well with her! Even if he's only know her for about an hour. And most of that hour has been watching high schoolers kill other high schoolers. Very fascinating stuff.

"You're lucky I'm a good big brother." Leo replied in a snippy tone as though to mask his excitement Which doesn't seem to work because Donnie glances away from Mikey and gives Leo a suspicious look.

"Uh huh and you aren't excited to see Miss.....[Last Name]?" Donnie added, glancing at his phone. Leo blushed, more embarrassed by the teasing than the fact Donnie probably just got all of [Name]'s personal information.

"W-whatever!" Leo squeaked, face burning even more as his brothers laughed at him. How would Donnie even know Leo already had a major minor crush on [Name]? How obvious was he about it?

Leo doesn't have much time to think about it because he quickly had to weave himself through the lines forming to the bathrooms and concession stands. Yet again he was feeling grateful for Splinter teaching him the skills he needed to not get trapped between the parents of the actors and the other kids forced to come. A...unique crowd.

How many times was he going to be stuck in this line, waiting to see the face that had been plaguing his thoughts for the first half of the show? It was frustrating certainly but he had to remain patient and hope [Name] won't be sick of seeing him.

"Hi, what can I...oh it's you again!" She said, her smile brightening instead of falling thankfully. Leo laughed, although it sounded slightly awkward.

"Yeah, my brothers always seem to want me to get them something." Leo rolled his eyes, pretending as though he wasn't insanely excited to come back to the concession stand and see her.

She snorted and muttered a, "Real." as she gave Leo a wry smile. "And what do your brothers want this time?"

"A pack of cookies and a Sprite, please."

[Name] grabbed the stuff, her skirt flowing around her. She was dressed so elegantly, making Leo feel slightly under dressed. But she was utterly stunning, so much so it made Leo's tongue feel like an iron weight on top.

"Here you go, Blue." She said with a grin, making Leo startle slightly. Oh, oh. He hasn't even told her his name yet! How stupid can he be?

"My name's Leo." He explained, a slight influx in his pitch making him blush yet again. (Why must every bone in his body be cursed with awkwardness?!)

"Well, it's nice to meet you. I hope to see you soon, Leo." She said, waving Leo off. He smiled a little dopey as he walked away, almost under a trance.

He was unable to be saved from the thing called love.

4. Two granola bars

"Donnie, you are such a weirdo! Granola bars?" Mikey complained, leaning back in his chair as he watched Donnie hand Leo his money.

"Yes! I'm not wanting sugary treats right now. Granola bars are a perfectly acceptable snack." Donnie huffed, handing his blue masked brother a five dollar bill.

"Yeah, yeah. Just hand me the money so I can buy it before intermission hands." Leo complained, exaggerating his annoyance so he doesn't seem terribly down bad for [Name]. He's known her for barely any time at all and he's already dying to see her again, taking any chance really.

"Shut up, Nardo. You aren't fooling anyone. Now hurry up and get my food." Donnie replied, pulling out his phone to watch the newest episode of whatever anime he is currently obsessed with. Leo scoffed but walked away, heart flurrying with excitment.

Would [Name] think he is pathetic for his thoughts? Or would she call him a romantic? Oh god, if only he knew whether she liked him even a fraction of the same way.

"Bye-bye birdie~" Mikey sang, giggling after. Leo rolled his eyes, finding the musical reference not very funny at all. His brothers were such dorks.

Leo walked into line yet again, although grateful to see it isn't as long as before. She seemed to be working fast, waltzing from behind the counter to give everyone the things they bought.

"Here you go, sir! I hope you're enjoying the show!" She said to the man in front of Leo, finally making it his turn. How Leo so nervous? Gah, he's scared the money will be damp from how much he is nervous sweating!

"Wow, I feel like I haven't seen you in centuries." She said with a dry smile, Leo awkwardly laughing. Damn, she's so cool! And he's so....not!

"Hehe yeah. My other brother decided to get two granola bars." Leo explained, her eyes lighting up with amusement. His stomach clenched at that look. She was so effortlessly beautiful.

"Ooh, interesting choice." She hummed grabbing said items. Leo nodded, still feeling his nerves like a tightly pressed spring waiting to be unleashed.

They exchanged the money and granola bars, luckily with her seeming to notice the copious amounts of sweat on Leo's palms. Why must he be so embarrassing?

"Better get going." She said, jutting her chin towards the door, "Show is about to start."

Leo sighed, his heart fracturing dramatically at what seemed like rejection. Maybe she hasn't been flirting with him and Leo is too delusional to read the signs. Of course she doesn't like him! He's a cringy, dorky mutant who can barely speak without saying something so awkward.

"Yeah, that's true." Leo replied, wishing he could suck the disheartened tone out of his words. His very existence is embarrassing! She frowned a little, like she was surprised to see Leo disappointed.

Either way, Leo turned away and headed back to the audience with a heavy heart. He shouldn't be surprised she doesn't like him the way he liked her.

Who would like a freak like him?

5. ?????

Leo was....impressed by how much he enjoyed the show. He had never been one for musicals or any of that stuff but he can appreciate it. Especially since Mikey was head over heels for the lead in the show. (Although Mikey keeps saying they are "just friends")

He grabbed his trash and threw it out, waiting for his brothers to finish talking to the cast in the lobby so they can head home. He was exhausted.

Leo couldn't help but feel heartbroken over [Name] even if they did nothing more than be friendly while working. He sighed and leaned against the wall, watching Donnie bond with another audience member who liked anime. All of his brothers had a chance with someone except for him! Maybe it was less to do with him being a mutant and more of the fact he was so awkward and annoying and stupid and emb-

"Hey, Leo."

He stiffened at the sound of her voice, his heart yet again being sent into overdrive. He tried to stay calm as he turned around to see [Name]'s curious but tired expression. She was pretty enough to frustrate him.

She gave him a smile that put Leo slightly to ease, even if he was wary. And for little reason since she did nothing but her job! Leo was a pathetic lovesick fool.

"You forgot your last snack." She said, a slight glint in her eyes. Leo's curiosity was intrigued. She held out her arms and showed Leo what she was holding....a box of dates.

"Umm, what?" Leo asked confused, trying to figure out whatever the hell she meant by that. Dates? What teenager in their right mind eats those? And does their school even sell them?

She flustered (how cute Leo thought it was) and looked away, still holding the box of dates in her hands. Leo wasn't sure what was going on.

"It was a stupid pun. Like a date for a date? And multiple because I want to go on multiple dates with you?" She explained, an embarrassed laugh coming from her, "Sorry, I must have misunderstood some signals. I thought you were cute and I wanted to ask you out but I chickened out earlier."

Leo could have sworn his face was going to explode from how much blood rushed to it quickly. She thought he was cute? And she was dorky enough to ask him out using a pun? Leo must have died and gone to heaven because someone this perfect can't exist and like him.

"You don't need to say anything. Sorry fir bothering you, Leo." She shyly stammered, attempting to walk away but Leo grabbed her wrist before he could second guess himself.

"I'd love to go on a date with you. And I would make a pun but nothing can top yours." Leo replied, shoving the words out of his throat before he can be too shy. She brightened immediately, her smile widening.

"Really?" She asked, turning to face him. Leo nodded and smiled, finding her happiness contagious.

She leaned in and so did Leo, the rest of the world fading to black. He was about to get his first kiss! With an awesome girl too! Maybe they should wait for their first date? Or do people normally kiss this soon? Maybe Leo should have watched more romance movies when he had the chance.

"Bleh, can you stop giving each other the lovey dovey eyes?" Donnie complained, all three of Leo's brothers appearing at the most inopportune time. Leo pulled away the same time she did, both looking like guilty kids.

"Time to go?" Leo asked, cringing at the way his voice squeaked. All of his brothers snorted and [Name] gave Leo a sympathetic smile.

"Yeah, lets go!" Mikey said, still looking far too hyper for it to be 10 pm. Raph rested his arm on Mikey's head, almost like it was his way to wrangle the younger boy.

Before they left, Leo and [Name] swapped phone numbers so they can plan a date and talk. Leo waved goodbye to her, smile spreading across his lips like invisible hands were forcing the joy on his face.

"You're such a dork, Nardo." Raph snorted, bit Leo was far too happy to even care about rebutting him. He may be a dork but he did get the girl.

[sugarpasteltmnt]

a perk i 100% exploit is the fact that i get to hear my sister's plans for her fic 'Reciprocity' and let me tell you folks. you're in for some fun treats ( •̀ ω •́ )

[missmonsters2]

🥶

WandaNat

Pairing: WandaNat x Fem!Reader

Warnings: awkward!reader. clint slander. WandaNat no mercy.

Note: i miss them

Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Count: 999 (🧍‍♀️)

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

This was your worst nightmare—trapped between the bodies of two incredibly hot, kind, and funny women. 

And no, it wasn't in the sexy way—your brain refused to even let you go down that route. You'd implode at even the slightest thought of it. 

This was Clint's fault, you quietly seethed, plotting his gruesome murder that could later be turned into a true crime podcast. Laura will have to be a widowed single mother, and the children will have to grow up fatherless, but surely it was for the best. 

"Come down to visit us!" Clint said to you, your mind mimicking his voice unflatteringly. "It's been way too long since you guys came to stay with us."

It was a normal occurrence; you thought nothing of it. You, Wanda, and Natasha often went to stay with Clint and his family quarterly. Natasha visited more with her girlfriend, Wanda, and they invited you every time, but you settled that four times a year was enough. 

It was usually fun, and the time spent was enjoyable, so you really had thought nothing about it.

Until Clint decided he was actually the incarnate of the devil and condemned you for some undisclosed sin. 

"Oh, you three are cool sharing a room, right? The other spare bedroom is under renovation. I mean, one of you can take the couch but I highly don't recommend it with what the kids have spilled on it over the years."

No, it wasn't okay, you wanted to say at the time, but Wanda and Natasha nonchalantly waved Clint off and told him it was fine, and the conversation breezed on, never to be returned to again. 

Why would he invite all three of you if there wasn't enough space!? You tried to tell Wanda and Natasha that you could drive to the nearest hotel at night, but they looked at you strangely and asked if you hated them. It was jokingly, but you could hear a tinge of hurt in their voice, which silenced you from offering to leave again. 

But now you were suffering. 

The bed was way too small for three people but left enough room for just a couple of inches to keep you from coming into skin-to-skin contact with either redhead.

You stared at the ceiling, despite being unable to make out any details of the room in the darkness. 

Why the fuck were you in the middle?

You should've been on the edge. At least then, you could hang half your body off it to keep some distance. 

You started at the edge of the bed—make no mistake. But then Natasha came to your side and asked you to scootch over. You assumed she preferred sleeping on the right side, so you started to make your way down to the other side. But then, to your horror, Wanda climbed in from the other end, effectively trapping you in the middle. 

The words were caught in your throat as you tried to force them out and ask if you could have the edge, but Natasha and Wanda mumbled their goodnights before promptly falling asleep. 

This was unacceptable; you mentally cried. This was—weird. You know that Wanda and Natasha have been together for ages, and they probably didn't care, but it was strange to be in the middle of them like this. You're way too awkward for this. 

It brought up the unwanted feelings you've been trying to get rid of for months. 

The worst part was that it was winter, and this room was so fucking cold. Was Clint going through financial hardship? Why isn't there any heat in this room?

You wished him ill, you wished him ill, you wished bad things upon Clint Barton. 

You shifted, trying to pull the blanket up higher and shrink yourself to retain some of the heat. You turned on your side, facing Wanda's back, and frowned. You could practically feel the heat radiating off her and wanted to scoot away from her. But you couldn't. You'd scoot right into Natasha, who was also radiating heat as she faced your back.

At this moment, you hated them for being so unaware of their temptations. 

You swallowed. Moving a little closer to Wanda wouldn't be too bad, right? Just to steal a bit more of her warmth, so you could fall asleep and wake up early to get out of bed. 

You scooted a little closer, your nose just inches away from her back since there wasn't much wiggle room. Her heat emitted off her like a goddamn fireplace, and you sighed a little at the warmth on your nose and the parts of your cheeks. 

It was still pretty cold, and you shivered a little. 

Your movement seemed to wake Wanda as she lifted her head to look around at you. You looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Turning back, Wanda lay her head back down and shut her eyes with a yawn. 

You started to scoot back to where you were, but Wanda grabbed your wrist from under the blanket and pulled it over her waist as she shuffled back into you.

The warmth pressed against your front jolted you, and you were stiff, despite how good it felt. 

"любимая, she's cold," Wanda mumbled in the dark as she threaded her fingers through yours.

Wanda was clearly speaking to Natasha because the redhead behind you shifted and moved closer until she was pressed against your back snuggly. Her arms wrapped around your midsection as she tangled her legs through yours. 

You wanted to die. 

You wanted to kill Clint Barton and then run into oncoming traffic. 

"Um," you croaked. 

"Is this better?" Natasha mumbled sleepily, and she was so close you felt her lips move against your shoulder. 

No.

Yes.

No.

"Uh," you dragged out before finally deciding with an awkward stiff, "Yes."

It was warm—almost too warm now. You closed your eyes with a silent groan. 

You weren't getting any sleep tonight.

[moossings]

drawn in

the f1 mafia au that no one asked for and won't leave my brain at all. mainly charlos, but featuring most of the grid and ex drivers. i've been worldbuilding with @5ainz (bless for bearing with me) and in between drawings and character sheets, i ventured to write this tiny snippet to hype myself (and be less scared of writing). if you read this, thank you and enjoy! ✨

-

“You shouldn't be here.”

Carlos’ eyes don’t move from the painting. The Death of the Virgin, by Caravaggio. He smiles to himself, shaking his head. He wouldn’t expect less from the Rosso Corsa, always proud and ready to show off their legacy. Come to think about it, everything in his life was linked to red somehow. And at the same time, inevitably, to the wounds it left.

“Are you going to kick me out, altezza reale? Like a bad behaved dog?” He does turn his head then. His tone is supposed to be mocking, but the moment brown eyes meet green, his resolution falters.

Charles Leclerc, composed as ever, stands on the door, as if he had just closed it. Carlos swears he hears the lock turn as well, but his mind is rather busy tracking every single hair out of place, from the top of his head to the strands scattering on his forehead. His gun feels heavy where it rests in its holster under his jacket.

“And aren’t you the most loyal one? Fernando must be proud.” Charles leaves the door to stand next to Carlos, shoulders almost brushing but not close enough. It’s their thing, throw knives and dodge, push and pull. The Inspector’s little prince and the right hand of the Spanish Samurai.

The silence between them is not awkward, but it feels tense in the same way the air is charged right before a storm. They look at the painting, but the details they recollect are not the brushstrokes or perspective of the piece. It’s the subtle hints of cologne coming off Charles’ skin when he tilts his head, following the lines of the old wood on the frame instead of the ones of Carlos’ perfectly tailored suit. It’s the flex on Carlos’ clenched fists as his mind repeats over and over how very not good it would be to reach and find out how Charles’ hands feel with their fingers laced.

“Did you know,” Carlos says, his voice almost a whisper. “This painting was rejected by the patron who commissioned it. No one had ever painted the actual death of the Virgin, it was a dogma, and Caravaggio depicted her as mortal: pale, bloated and devoid of spirit.” He sighs and looks sideways at Charles, from under his lashes. “It is also said that Caravggio painted her after a prostitute, so maybe that was the real reason.”

Charles tries to school his features, to stop the smile from being evident, but those sweet dimples betray him. Time to stop pretending, it seems. “I didn’t know you were interested in art.” He turns to face Carlos fully, carefully studying the strong features he usually only catches in glimpses. He is setting the ground for truce, building the bridge.

Carlos chuckles, and it sounds tired. “Really? Don’t tell me Sebastian didn’t include it in my file. He used to be more thorough with his research, he is starting to slip.” But he still faces Charles, willing to meet him halfway. “There is a lot more that you couldn’t possibly know.”

“What if I wanted to find out? What would it take?” Charles takes a step forward. Carlos lets him.

“Stupidity. Recklessness. Naivety.” He counts with his fingers, brows furrowed but playful smirk. Charles can’t really tell which one he actually means. “Trust.”

“That sounds like a challenge, Sainz.” And Charles has never backed up from one. Today is not the day he’ll start.

He extends his hand and, in seconds, a warm bigger one takes it in a firm but soft grip.

“It’s Carlos.” A smirk draws up the corners of his full lips. “You are in for a ride, cariño.”

[sunsetsandsunshine]

~ 𝙶𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙, 𝚋𝚛𝚘! ~

💜🐢🧡 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @savemeafruitjuice💜🐢🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙷𝚘𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚕𝚎…𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝…𝚘𝚑 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕. 𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜, 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚎!!!˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟹,𝟺𝟼𝟸

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚗…𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 (𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕), 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚠 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛.

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚃*𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝙳𝙽𝙸. 𝙱𝚞𝚑-𝚋𝚢𝚎. 𝙰𝚍𝚒𝚘𝚜. 𝚂𝚊𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚊. 𝙵𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕…)

𝙾𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚐𝚜𝚜𝚜𝚜: @tiggleebug @what-youd-expect @veryblushyswitch @someone1348 @titters-and-tingles

@odder-outlet @itzsana-kiddingmenow @kanene-yaaay @turtletimewriting @mysteriouslee

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐…𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 😖. 𝚂𝚘, 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚙𝚕𝚣 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 💞✨‼️

𝙰𝙻𝚂𝙾 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙻𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙼𝙽𝚃 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟸 𝚂𝟸 𝙸𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴𝙽’𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝚃𝙲𝙷𝙴𝙳 𝙸𝚃‼️‼️‼️

𝚃𝚆: 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜/𝚓𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

It was currently 2:00 in the morning. And the only things keeping Donatello Hamato alive at the moment were cans of Red Bull, Dr. Pepper and a slice of pizza. And by ‘slice’, he means the entire box.

Which…the more and more Donnie thought about it, that was a hell of a combination to consume for the rest of the night. Also super duper concerning. But it kept him 101% awake, so he couldn’t really complain all that much.

But why was the young scientist staying up so late you may ask? The second youngest was currently working on the de-mutagen mutagen to un-mutagize Mr. O’Neil (try saying that 10 times fast). The tallest turtle has been engrossed in the project for weeks; his eyes have been stuck to his computer as if someone glued them there.

But…why would Mr. O’Neil need ‘de-mutagen mutagen?’ Well…you, my friend, ask the good questions at the wrong time. You see, Donatello and his brothers kinda…maybe…accidentally…spilled mutagen on April’s Dad…

Accidentally! Accidentally. It wasn’t really as bad as it sounded. I mean, how would you react if you saw your Dad turn into a mutant and start flying all over New York? Pretty cool, right?

…Alright. Maybe it was as bad as it sounded.

Turning April’s Dad into a bat…creature-like…thing wasn’t a part of the plan in all honesty. Which was why the tallest turtle of the four was so stubborn on getting this freaking blob of green slime disgustingness finished.

I mean…it was him and his brother’s fault that the scientist got mutated in the first place. And as well as Donnie knows, that’s April’s only family she has as of right now. And that just makes this whole mutation situation (<- hey that rhymes) even worse.

Donnie knows all too well what it’s like for a family member to go missing out of his control. I mean, have you met him? Or literally anyone in his household? It wasn’t out of the ordinary that they would (or could) get kidnapped, captured, or held hostage from time to time.

I mean, the sky’s blue. The grass is green. They get taken from away each other on a daily basis. Duh.

…Anyways; steering away from that sad but true fact, Donnie’s family was, well, his family at the end of the day. His comfort.

And so to just…take that comfort outlet April once had and not do anything about it seemed…inhuman.

I mean, he wasn’t human…not human in the slightest, really. But you get his point.

Huh. And…speaking of family, if Leo was in the second youngest’s room right now, the young leader would’ve said some statements along the lines of: ‘Donnie! Sit up! Your backs built like a shrimp!’ or ‘Don! Stop typing and sit up straight before your back looks like a crooked tree!’

And in all honesty? He should probably fix his posture. But Leo reminding him every millisecond of the day makes him not want to…

Besides, it’s not like he was using the computer for shits and giggles. He was using it because he needed to use it. Because he had to use it.

I mean, the more and more he thought about it, wasn’t it really his fault in the first place? He was the genius. He was the scientist. He was supposed to know the answer to every. single. problem.

Even if the problem was…well, himself.

But what could he even do at this point??? April cut all contacts with him, Mr. O’Neil could be who knows where, and Donnie just ran out of pizza!

Triple. kill!

Well…perhaps using that kind of phrasing isn’t appropriate at the moment, but your picking up what’s he’s putting down, right?

…oh God, he’s starting to sound like Leo…that’s how tired he was.

The scientist groaned, resting his head on the table and rubbing his arm in irritation.

My gosh did he miss sleep.

Even if he got, like, 3 hours on a daily basis…it was 3 hours of sleep! Which is something he rarely got anymore since everything has happened.

He rubbed his arm a tad bit harder, glaring at his computer screen as if it was the most disgusting thing to ever make way on this planet.

And that’s saying a lot. I mean, have you met Raph?

The purple banded turtle sighed in pure annoyance, tapping his other finger on the desk in a repetitive motion.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

At least this he can do without screwing it up. Like he’s done with absolutely everything.

Donnie tapped faster.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

“You look like absolute sugar honey iced tea, broski.” Donnie jumped at the sudden voice, stumbling out of the spinny chair he was sitting on as he grabbed his bō staff which was planted on the floor. He drawed the staff, only to find his baby brother with his hands slightly up in a surrendering position.

“Oh. Hi, Mikey…” The taller turtle relaxed, dropping his staff in complete exhaustion and sinking into his chair like he wasn’t about to chop the other into pieces.

God, did he want sleep...

“Why are you up so early, Dee? It’s, like, 3 a.m. now…” The youngest turtle asked as he walked over to his older brother, pulling up another spinny chair as he sat next to him.

“Late. Why am I up so late. Morning technically starts after midnight. However, 3 a.m. is way too early to be considered part of the daytime. For most of the world, it is still dark outside at this time. And so, 3 a.m. is considered night.” The purple banded turtle rambled. Mikey blinked in confusion at his brother’s rebuttal, rolling his eyes playfully, “Nerd emoji…”

Donnie didn’t even counter the remark. He wanted to, obviously. Sibling bickering is a thing, y’know.

But he had to finish this cure even if it killed him. And how the way things were going, he would have to be revived 14-15 times in order to complete it.

Mikey looked at his older brother worriedly, seeing how focused and entranced he was on the computer. And usually? That would’ve been an amazing thing. Like Mikey here, Donnie would tend to hyperfixate on certain things and spend hours upon hours researching and de-coding and…

Well, you get the idea.

But ever since April stopped talking to them completely, Donnie’s been so…prone to figuring out a way to cure her Dad.

If there even was one…

And the youngest couldn’t even remember the last time he saw his immediate older brother in a bed. Sleeping. And that made the youngest worry. Worry beyond repair. And if you didn’t already know, he doesn’t do worry. That’s Master Splinter’s job…if you weren’t able to tell by all the grey/gray hairs.

“You're doing the tappy-tap thing; you only do that when you're nervous or stressed about something...” Mikey randomly said out loud.

Well…not entirely randomly.

Anytime the second oldest would do that, he would usually end up moving his hand down to tap onto his thigh, and then the light feeling would be overwhelming for him and so he would start scratching…

It was a domino effect that Mikey really didn’t want to go down if he didn’t have to.

The taller teen looked down at his left hand and…sure enough, yep. He was rubbing and scratching and tapping his arm like some crazy crack addict. He adjusted them so they were in his lap, trying not to fidget with any part of his body but soon started bouncing his right leg. “Sorry…” He mumbled.

“Wha-? No…you don’t need to apologize. I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself, Dee. That’s the only reason why I pointed it out.” Mikey rambled comfortingly, frowning a little bit as he saw Donnie’s face in a scowl. The elder’s hands tapped on the desk again, his nails gripping onto the table as he did so.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Mikey glanced at his brother sadly. He’s never seen Donnie this upset before…and that made Mikey worry. And again, Mikey didn’t do worry.

The blue eyed teen went into his pajama pants pockets and grabbed a rubix cube. He honestly completely forgot he had it in there and just happened to remember in this exact moment, but perhaps it was a good thing he forgot.

Because it was obvious his big brother needed it right now.

Mikey gave the other the cube, which he gladly accepted. The taller turtle frustratingly solved the cube…not because solving the cube was frustrating, but because he was frustrated with himself.

“You…wanna talk about it…?” The youngest asked gently. “No…no not really…” The older said as he looked at his computer blankly, solving the cube.

My gosh he needed sleep. And he knew he said that a couple times already but being tired was starting to get…well, tiring!

And you know what the worst part of all of this was?

He did the best he could.

The best he could muster wasn’t enough but at least he tried. Saving the world every day and night sometimes didn’t always go as planned.

But was that good enough? No. Of course it wasn’t. But at least he tried. He always tries. There hasn’t been one mission he hasn’t at least tried to do his part.

It's just kinda hard when you’re a 5'8 mutant turtle that the whole world is afraid of and yet you save their asses each and every day.

The irony…

And on top of it all, he hasn’t been making a smidge of process.

The mutagen still looks the exact same as it did a week ago. And the week before that. And the weeks and weeks and weeks before that…

“Dee…” Mikey started, looking at his older brother with sad, pleading eyes. “No. Stop. Don’t look at me like that.” Donnie scowled, “I’m not in the mood to be pitied.” Mikey returned the cold stare slightly, crossing his arms loosely, “Well, you should be in the mood to sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Like hell you’re not.” The smaller turtle laughed bitterly, although nothing at the matter was truly ‘haha’ funny. More so ‘what the actual fuck— go to bed’ funny. “Your eyebags literally have a whole story arc right now. A plot and everything. You can’t tell me your not even a smidge sleepy.”

“That’s hilarious. It’s almost like I just did.” Donnie spat, glaring at the rubix cube as he continued to solve it.

The freckle faced turtle sighed, “Just…look. Listen to me for a sec, okay?” Donnie solved the cube, putting it on the table as Mikey held his hand.

“I know that your work is important to you. And I know you feel responsible for Mr. O’Neil’s mutation.” He started, squeezing Donnie’s hands comfortingly, which caused the elder’s hands to untense a bit, relaxing in the other’s hold. The smaller turtle smiled at the small but impactful motion.

He started up again, “We all do. But we’re not gonna get any step closer to figuring out the cure if our #1 scientist bro keeps working himself to death...”

“And by the looks of it? You’re 50% there…” The younger said as he let go of the other’s hand, getting a better look at his face. “How would you feel if I stayed up working on this all week? Wouldn’t you be worried?”

“You’re not smart enough for that.” Donnie mumbled, a small smug smile on his face.

Mikey gave his brother a playful punch to the shoulder, rolling his eyes playfully as his older brother laughed, tears welling up in his eyes. The blue eyed teen’s eyes widened in surprise, looking up at him.

“Are those…happy or sad tears…?” Mikey asked. “Probably both.” Donnie snickered, wiping away his tears, “Sorry. You know how emotional I get when I’m tired…”

The smaller teen hummed in acknowledgement, resting his head on the taller teen’s shoulder. “How about this: I’ll stay with you in you’re lab to help you go to sleep.” He offered, a small reassuring smile on his face as he looked up at Donnie once again.

“Okay…but what do I get in return?”

“A good night sleep.” The younger deadpanned.

“Touché…” Donnie hummed, now too tired and too emotionally drained to argue at this point. He yawned, standing up from the chair as the action was soon being followed by the other turtle in the room.

“Do not kick me while we’re lying down, got it?”

“Nooooo promises, bro-bro…”

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Okay…I feel utterly ridiculous.” Donnie mumbled as he crossed his arms in Mikey’s hold. Since Donnie couldn’t sleep, the youngest thought it would be a great idea to give him a hug just like their Dad did when they were turtle tots. Which, was to basically hug them from behind while the turtle being hugged was lying down slightly.

It helped them sleep on hard nights…and it seemed like Donnie was having a hard night.

“Don’t be. It’s alright.” The youngest smiled reassuringly, giving his brother another tight squeeze. “Dad did it exactly like this! You’ll fall asleep in no time!”

“Well, Dad’s a 6'2 mutant, Mike. You’re 4'6 while I’m 5'7. This hug is nothing but just pure awkwardness...”

“I’m 4'10!” The smaller mutant corrected, obviously offended by the false statement.

“Then I’m 6 feet tall.” Donnie chuckled.

“Okay, Mr. Wise Guy! Do you want this hug or not?!”

The elder chuckled, making no further comments as Mikey hugged him. The two sat in comfortable silence, enjoying each other’s company as the quietness overtook the room.

“I’m…sorry for being such a dick earlier…” Donnie murmured sadly, “I wasn’t being bitchy on purpose…I was just…” He paused, trying to figure out what he was going to say before suddenly losing the train of thought. “Stop thinking so hard. You’re gonna hurt your big brain.” Mikey pouted, poking Donnie in the cheek a couple times.

“And don’t worry about it. I didn’t take it personally. You were really agitated and tired so you had to let your Alpha male come out. No shame in that.”

“Still. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. So I’m sorry.” Donnie simply mumbled, before blinking in confusion a couple of times, “Wait. Did…Did you just call me an…Alpha male?”

“I sure did.” Mikey beamed proudly.

“Ugh…I hate you so freaking much, y'know that?”

“Suuuure you do. I’m the Alpha, I’m the leader, I’m the one to trust…” The youngest started to sing, rocking himself and Donnie side to side as the eldest tried to get out of the hug. “Ihi rehefuse to get comforted by ahan individual thahat knows thahat atrohocity by heart.” He snickered.

“Oh come on! I think I’m a pretty good singer!” The purple banded turtle only rolled his eyes at the comment, scoffing lightly, “Meehee and yohou hahave different definitions ohof thehehe word good…”

“Fine then! I’m a great singer!” Mikey challenged.

“Lihihike hell yohou are, yohohou bihig oaf.”

“I’m shorter than you, Einstein!”

“Doesn’t mehean your nohohot bihig…” Donnie mumbled giggly but smugly.

The youngest glared, jabbing Donnie in the side, causing the russet eyed turtle to shriek loudly in surprise. Mikey giggled, poking Donnie in the sides repeatedly. “The Boo scream from Monster’s Inc goes crazy, bro.”

“M—Mihihichael!”

“That’s my name~! What’s up? You need something?” The orange banded turtle asked teasingly, peering down at his brother who was now squirming uncontrollably.

“No? Well okay then…” The youngest mused as he continued to wreck his brother. “W—Wahait! Wahait! Ihihi’m gohonna wahahake eheveryone uhuhup!” Donnie squealed, leaning against his little brother’s chest as he squirmed in the hold.

“Then stop laughing then.” The younger one huffed, smiling even more as Donnie’s blush increased in volume and size. “Buhut you’re tihihickling me!”

“I think that sounds like a you problem, dear brother of mine. Maybe you should try being less ticklish and it wouldn’t happen to you!”

Donnie’s giggles became more frantic, turning his face to hide in Mikey’s side. The younger smiled at the shy gesture, ceasing his tickling for a moment.

“I promise I’ll stop when you want me to, okay?” Mikey said with a soft smile on his face; which, was nice and all but at the same time why did he have to be so nice about it???

Donnie nodded embarrassed, preparing himself physically and mentally. “Oh! And thanks for opening this spot for me, Dee.” The smaller mutant giggled as he scribbled his fingers against the crook of Donnie’s neck, which made the taller turtle flail around and try to hit him. “Hehey! Hey! That's not very nice!”

He pulled one of Donnie’s arms up and wiggled his fingers directly in his underarm. “NAHA— *hic* NOHOH!” The older cackled as he desperately tried to pull his arm back down as he hid his face deeper in Mikey’s side. The blue eyed mutant awed teasingly at the sight, chuckling to himself as his big brother laughed his heart out.

“NAHAT *hic* THEHERE! PLEHEASE!” 

“Nahat thehere?” Mikey faked gasped, “What about…right here~?” He giggled, squeezing right above the other turtle’s hip bone. Donnie kicked and squirmed as more hiccups followed.

“Awh…is my big brother tickwish~?” Mikey said as he buried his face into the crook of Donnie’s neck, giggling as the older’s cackles began to increase in volume at the teases. “ShuhuHUT yohOUR’E *hic* TRAHAP!” The purple banded turtle shrieked, trying to push at his baby brother’s face to try and stop him.  

“You’re hiccups are adorable, big bro~!” Mikey cooed, now noticing how red Donnie’s face have gotten due to all the laughing and teasing. Mikey stopped tickling Donnie but his face still remained in the crook of his neck, smiling at the giggly mess he made of his older brother. Donnie glared while laughing, pushing on his baby brother’s face.

“StaHAP!!! Stohop…”

“I’m not even doing anything!” The other laughed as he hugged Donnie, rocking him back and forth again.

“Lihiterallty dihihie…” Donnie giggly grumbled, trying to wipe off the grin happy smile his brother plasteed on his face. “Yohohou’re. the. absolute wohorst…” He giggled tiredly, curling in on himself as he swatted his baby brother away from him. 

“Now…do you wanna go to bed or should we…” The orange banded turtle trailed off of his sentence, looking down to his elder brother whom’s eyes started to droop.

“Pff. 'Night, Dee.”

“Mhm…”

Donnie relaxed in Mikey’s hold, which made the younger one’s eyes soften greatly. He pulled out his phone, taking a picture quickly and going into the family’s group chat:

👁💀👺💥Teenagers who are Mutants who are Ninja’s who are also Turtle’s🍕🌝🧫👼

Yo 😼😼😼

Mikey???

What are you doing up so early?

>:3

Ur lucky Don isn’t online here Leo

He would go on a full on RANT abt the ‘late’ and ‘early’ bs

I’m aware…

So what’s up, Mikey? You okay?

Yeah💕💥!!! I’m fine!!!

Just wanted to tell you guys that I’m in Don’s room catching some ax’s ✨✨✨

WJAT??

BAHAH EXCUSE ME

CAN I JOIN

NONO STUPID AUTOCORRXT

Z’S I MEANT Z’S. AS IN SLEEP

S L E E P I N G

LIKE SNOK MIMIMI TYPE STUFF

Jesus…

Mikey. Never do that again.

IT WASNT WVEN MY FAULTT

SO DOES THAT MWAN NO AXES???

SHUT UP, RAPHAEL

🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕!!!

Oh grow up, Raph

Yeaaaaah Raaaaaaph, grow up 🙄🙄🙄

🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕‼️‼️‼️

Anyway 😾

I came into his room bc he was working on the mutagen thing

Oh…

Poor Don.

He’s been working on that thing for ages

Thanks for doing that, Mikey.

I’m sure he appreciates it.

He better

My shell hurts from supporting his big ass

DAMN

Just go to bed, Mikey— b4 Leo kills the both of us

Love ya bro

See u when u and Don wake up

Love you guys too 💝💘💖💗💓

Mikey smiled as he turned off his phone, putting it on Donnie’s nightstand as he relaxed against the bed frame. He rubbed his brother’s shell comfortingly, humming a small tune softly.

“Hey, Mike?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for this. I…didn’t know how much I needed it…thank you. I love you.”

Mikey smiled brightly, squeezing Donnie a tad bit tigther, “Love you too, Don. Now go to sleep before you become more wrinkly than you already are.”

“Oh, fuck you…” Donnie chuckled, drifting off to sleep along with his little brother.

Things weren’t perfect. I mean, they never will be. They never would be.

But being apart of a team means your never alone.

And being apart of a family means you’re never alone.

And as long as Donnie had his…he’d be quite alright.

He can finish the mutagen later…as of right now, he needed to go the fuck. to. bed.

And thanks to Mikey, he can finally do that.

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚FIN˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

(P.S.: If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging!!!)

[scarylarry376]

My Mutant Mayhem Casey Jones design for my fic!

I'm going to do his lil vigilantly getup next, may or not be totally goth coded.

By the way the actual canon Casey Jones design part is a joke 💔I have no hate in my heart I stan everything tmnt. anyways yall have seen the new ad thing? I might go feral when it comes out😍

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Heaven Help the Fool

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 5

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: swearing, angsty matthew, hints of matt's jealousy, cuddling? idk this one is relatively tame (especially compared to Ch 4)

a/n: This chapter is pure sugary fluff. I ended up cutting this chapter in half because it was approaching 10k. This is the 1st half :) I hope you enjoy!! Thank you to @madschiavelique for helping me rewrite this multiple times!

Side note: I will probably wait a month or so before updating this again. I'm trying to get 5-7 chapters written so that I can post biweekly for the rest of the year to keep y'all fed!

w/c: 4.2k

Despite the brief hiccup in your friendship–courtesy of one douchebag boyfriend–you, Matt, and Foggy had been getting along swimmingly recently; so well, in fact, that Foggy would only refer to you as “The Three Musketeers”, complete with embarrassingly clumsy fake sword swishing, of course. The thought of the two of you air-fencing as you giggled to each other never failed to make him smile. 

By some miracle, the conversation he’d initiated with you about your growing distance had actually gone well and sparked a positive change. You’d apologized profusely, asking a number of questions, about how Matt was feeling and why, to guarantee your understanding. And, thankfully, he’d been able to answer them without exposing his feelings for you. In the end, you’d promised to return to your original schedule of study sessions, as well as give Matt and Foggy notice if you would need to cancel. Nothing outrageous, just being more mindful about communication and the time you were spending with your friends. 

Unfortunately for Matt, and Foggy who was slowly stepping aboard the “Everett Sucks” train alongside his roommate, you’d also suggested that the two of them hang out with you and Everett in order to get to know him better. The idea was harmless, even adorable if you asked the love-sick part of Matt’s brain, but the outcome was hellish. 

About a week ago, Matt and Foggy had accompanied you and Everett to a haunted house–listening to the macho third year “protect” you from strobe lights and masked actors despite you not being all that scared. Though he had brought a date himself, Matt had barely even smiled at the poor girl, preoccupied with Everett’s fingers brushing over a patch of exposed skin on your waist at every opportunity. Clearly, he hadn’t been inconspicuous about his attention being elsewhere, given that the night had ended with him getting a face full of hot chocolate from his snubbed date. The sticky droplets soaking into his clothes were nothing compared to the irritation he felt when Everett slapped him on the back—shaking his head as he imparted his wisdom to the first year. “Sorry man. Girls will be girls.” 

Then, of course, there’d been last night. The three of you had attended a halloween party at Everett’s place, and the guy had refused to walk you home even though it was cold, dark, and dangerous considering how tipsy you'd been. If Matt and Foggy hadn't been there, who knows what harm could have befallen you? Even before that, Matt had been clenching his fists all night, hearing Everett blabber over you and swat your hands away in front of his peers, claiming he wasn’t in the mood to hold you. If Matt was in his place, he’d–

No. These were the exact thought patterns he needed to avoid to prevent another…mistake like the night at Fogwell’s. He'd been doing a decent job not falling down the same rabbit holes–that would all be for nothing if he started fantasizing again now. 

But how could he not? You were so thoughtful, and intelligent, and adorable, and goddamn magnetic. Every action you took reeled him further into the treacherous web he was trapped in–unwittingly intoxicating him with your kindness. You were unlike anyone he’d ever met, that fact had only been highlighted since he’d embarrassed himself at Clinton Church. 

Shuddering against a gust of wind, Matt continued his brisk pace down the sidewalk as his fingers grew numb around his cane. He was quickly regretting his decision to leave his jacket behind. Hopefully, the bookstore was willing to shell out the extra bucks for a decent amount of heat and he wouldn’t find you as a popsicle when he took shelter.

Huffing out an irritated breath, Matt rounded the corner towards your place of work. It had become almost a habit for him to accompany you during your shifts, keeping you company and working through assignments together. Honestly, it was the best part of his day. 

Matt frowned as he closed in on the bookstore. He was having a difficult time hearing your heartbeat, which was usually pattering away, steady as rain, a few feet from the entrance of the store. As he pushed open the glass door, he could finally make out a steady thump accompanied by your familiar scent in the far corner of the shop. 

The constant smell of ink and stale paper, now mingling with the slightly acrid smell of dust burning in the vents, stuck in his nostrils—as it always did when he arrived here. It was comforting, in a way, reminiscent of both you and the library at the orphanage, where he’d spent much of his freetime as a child.

Smiling to himself as he approached you, he folded up his cane and let his body relax in the warm bubble of generated heat. You were asleep, curled up around whatever project you’d been working on like a cat on a sunlit patch of carpet. Settling on the floor beside you, Matt propped himself up against a bookshelf before unzipping his backpack as silently as he could. It wasn’t the most organized set up to work with, laying his textbook on the floor and holding his computer in his lap, but after the late night you’d had, there was no doubt you needed the rest. 

Body twisting in sudden discomfort, you whimpered beside him, unwinding from your bent shape and towards his body. Readjusting so that your nose was pressed against his thigh, you sighed, brow unfurrowing. Even unconscious, you appreciated his presence. 

The denim of his jeans couldn’t have been comfortable for the delicate skin of your nose, but he was hesitant to move an inch if it meant waking you. Besides, the small pinpoint of heat against his thigh was rather pleasant. 

Listening to your slumbering breaths, Matt was reminded of his childhood meditation sessions–the sound acting as a barrier between him and the rest of the world, clearing his mind without any effort on his end. He matched his breathing to yours, heart rate slowing to mirror yours as he ran his fingers along the lines of braille in his textbook. 

As Matt worked his way through two separate reading assignments, you slept peacefully, nuzzling into his leg every so often with a soft puff of an exhale. It felt like Matt had only spent mere seconds in this unintentional paradise when you began to stir. 

With a stuttering breath, you stretched, the sound of your muscles tightening akin to plucking a guitar string rapidly. As you regained awareness, Matt could hear the spike in your pulse–you must have noticed him, then. 

“Morning, bug.” He murmured. On a whim, he ran a hand over your shoulder gently, not wanting you to feel unwelcome or embarrassed for lingering in his personal space. “Have a good nap?”

Beneath his palm, you relaxed, your lashes fluttering as you hummed appreciatively. “Hi. Sorry for using you as a pillow.”

“No apology necessary. You ok?” He squeezed your shoulder as you sat up, pulling at your clothes to unfurl the wrinkles from them. 

“Yah, just tired after last night.” You laughed, but the sound was a step too high in pitch to be genuine. 

“Ugh, I feel you. I think both Foggy and I spent more time in the bathroom than in our beds last night.” Matt chuckled, trying to quiet the devil inside him with a reminder that you’d come to him if something was actually wrong. 

Grimacing, you knocked your shoulder against his. “God, Murdock–” You giggled, pressing a palm to your stomach. “My hangover is much too present for that image. Warn a girl next time.”

Shooting you a bashful smile, he nodded dutifully. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok, trouble. No harm done. Well, not much.” With a heavy sigh, you rubbed at your eyes, leaning to grab something that had slid beneath the bookshelf Matt was seated against. “Damn, this manual must have been more boring than I originally thought. It knocked me right out.” 

“Learning astrophysics on the side?” Matt jested, smirking at you.

“Oh yah. Astronaut is my backup career.” You laughed, the sound beautiful, and real, this time around. “No, um, setting up a new printer, actually.” 

Confusion pooled in Matt’s stomach, for some reason you were embarrassed by the machine behind you, if the heat flooding your cheeks was any indication. 

“Oh, did the old one break?” He asked, tilting his head.

“Er,” You paused, looking between him and the plastic box beside you. “No, well not yet, but…just promise me you won't be mad. Well, you’re entitled to anger, I guess, because I may have overstepped?”

Thoroughly bewildered now, Matt swiveled his chin so that his attention could focus on your general area. “Overstepped how?” 

“I sort of badgered my boss into buying a braille printer?” The sentence was phrased as a question, but the thing was there, beside you. It's existence evidence that you had definitively obtained one. 

Matt was silent for a moment, processing the new information. It suddenly felt like he had swallowed a golf ball. He could barely make out the pounding of your heart over the blood rushing in his own ears. “Um...”

“Shit, Matt, I'm sorry. I should have asked you before I did it. I meant to, I just—” Your nervous ramble was punctuating with small wisps of heat emanating from your gesturing hands. 

“Sweetheart,“ He interrupted, snatching one of your dancing hands out of mid air and holding it delicately. ”Please breathe. I'm not angry with you.“ 

”Oh thank god.“ Your body slammed into his, nearly bowling him over, as you tackled him with a hug. Your nose was chilled as it bobbed up and down the skin of his neck. ”I don't know what I'd do if you were mad at me. I care about you a hell of a lot, trouble.“ Your lips tickled his throat, breath ghosting over his shoulder as you murmured. 

”I care about you too, sweetheart.“ His voice was strained, his thoughts consumed with surprise and adoration. He didn't deserve you. 

”Hey, don't say that!“ Shit, he must have said that out loud. ”Of course you deserve me, Matt. And you deserve Foggy, and anyone else who you enjoy being around. You're a good person, Matt. You deserve happiness.“ You spoke firmly, not leaving room for his internal doubt. 

Constricting your arms, it seemed like you were trying to meld your body with his. One of his hands pressed into the grimy carpet as he held the two of you up, the other rested around your shoulders, his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric of your shirt. 

”Shut up.“ He muttered, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he turned his focus to the rough threads of the stiff carpeting beneath his hand. 

”Never.“ You giggled meekly, squishing him to your body one final time before releasing your grip. ”Now I should probably get back to building this printer, if you ever want to be able to use it.“ 

”Did you want a hand?“ He offered, sniffling discreetly. 

”I'd love one! Will you read me these while I reorganize? I got to step 7 already.“ Handing him the packet of braille instructions out of the manual, Matt skimmed the bumps until he found the proper section. 

”You attached the paper tray?“ He asked, waiting for you to confirm before reading the next step aloud.

A few days after painstakingly building a new printer together, you found yourself sprinting for the door to Matt’s building, which was rapidly closing and just out of your reach; you stifled a victory squeal when you were able to step into the threshold of the dorm before the door locked on you. Now you wouldn’t have to ask Matt to let you in the building, and that was pretty fortunate given how on edge the poor kid seemed already this morning. 

You tended to rise early, given your rigid schedule of classes and work shifts, preferring to start your day just after the sun rose and have as much time to accomplish things as possible. Matt wasn't as much of an early bird as you were, but he tended to wake up before 9am on weekends, while his blond roommate would sleep well past noon if he had the option. Because of your similar schedules, you weren't surprised that Matt had called you; you were surprised, however, that he sounded so miserable before 9am on a Friday. 

The conversation hadn't been long, just Matt asking if you'd like to come over and a small warning that he'd ”woken up on the wrong side of the bed“, but you weren't phased. While the handsome law student tended to be on the more reserved and sarcastic side, he was rarely noticeably irritated—tending to play it off with quips to keep his cool around anyone he didn't know too well. There had been a handful of days where you had witnessed his anger slipping through the metaphorical mask that he wore, but he never aimed it at you. Every once and a while, his tone would get a bit snappish, but it never went further than that, and you trusted him to keep his wits intact when he was upset. 

So you came quickly with hot breakfast as a peace offering to provide the help he'd asked for, in his own non-descriptive way. Taking the cement steps two at a time, and deftly avoiding the perpetually damp spots on the landing (ew), you were able to make it from your place and to Matt's door in under 30 minutes. 

Raising a fist to knock on the thick door, you jumped in surprise—nearly spilling the coffees—when Matt yanked the door open before your knuckles had even skimmed the surface. 

”Christ, Matt!“ You squeaked, shaking off the residual adrenaline as he beckoned you inside and shut the door behind you. 

If he hadn't already informed you that he was feeling out of it, his lack of opaque lenses would've immediately alerted you of the fact. Matt was very averse to interacting with people without his glasses covering his eyes, even when the only people around were you and Foggy. You'd never brought it up before, not wanting to add to his clear discomfort about the topic, but you assumed he was self-conscious of the way he looked without them.

Regardless, seeing his hazel eyes darting ambiguously around you made you catch your breath. You'd only caught glimpses in the past, but uncovered? They were stunning. The brown of his irises was flecked with green and the reflection of sunlight made them look like pools of honey. 

Hearing your choked inhale, a peach-colored blush bloomed across Matt's cheeks. “Shit, hold on, let me find my glasses. I set them down last night and I—” Pacing around you, Matt began to frantically rummage around on his bed, where he'd dumped a pile of what looked to be most, if not all, of his belongings. “They're here somewhere, I know it.“ 

Setting the paper cups on Foggy's nightstand, you walked a wide arc around the anxious boy as if he were a startled animal, gently laying your hand on his wrist. ”Matt,“ 

Looking up dolefully, Matt's eyes were glassy as he rambled. ”I'm sorry. I misplaced them. I should've warned you—“ 

”Matty, stop for a minute please.“ You encouraged, waiting for the boy to pause and take a breath before you continued. ”You don't need to wear your glasses around me, trouble. I'm sorry if I seemed thrown off, I was admiring your eyes.“

”You were...admiring them?“ Matt's voice broke around the question and your heart squeezed. 

”Yah, Matty, you have beautiful eyes. I've never seen them up close before.“ Taking his hands, you ran a thumb over his knuckles as he processed your words. 

After a minute of silence, you tugged him towards his desk chair. “Why don't we sit for a minute and have breakfast before sorting through your stuff.” 

Letting you maneuver him into the threadbare seat, he tilted his head as you placed a paper bag and disposable cup on the desk next to him. “You brought me breakfast?”

Chuckling at his genuine confusion, you nodded. “I did. It would help me feel better if I 'woke up on the wrong side of the bed', so I figured it couldn't hurt. It's just a muffin and a latte from Blue Java, nothing special.“ 

Matt didn't say anything, his lips still pursed as he opened the bag and began unwrapping the pastry. After breaking off a few pieces to eat, his frown ebbed. ”Thank you.“ 

”Anytime! So, doing some reorganizing this weekend?“ You sipped your own coffee, trying not to laugh as he wolfed the rest of his muffin down. 

”Something like that,“ Matt grumbled, tossing his balled up trash into the plastic bin across the room with ease. ”Our room was just, I don't know...gross, I guess? It needed to be cleaned and when I realized I couldn't find my glasses, I just freaked. I woke Foggy up, and neither of us could find them, so I started putting everything on the bed.“ 

Matt's lips quirked into a tiny smile. ”I think I scared him because he said he had to study and just disappeared. He's probably asleep in the library by now.“ 

You chuckled, picturing the blond passed out in the rows of old books. ”Well, his loss. I'm a hoot to clean with.“ 

”Is that so?“ Matt remarked, grinning fully now.

“Just you wait, Murdock. I have been told I am a fun AND efficient cleaning partner. Let's get this party started.” Standing up and brushing your hands together, you turned towards the items haphazardly stacked on Matt's bed. “How can I help?” 

Retreating into his shell a bit, Matt scratched at his neck. “Um, are you sure you want to? I mean, Foggy isn't here to confirm, but I have a really specific method for organizing my belongings, and I would understand if you didn't want to be bossed around.”

“Matt, it's your stuff that we are straightening up. You're allowed to be bossy.” You assured, silently cursing everyone who had planted seeds of doubt in this wonderful man’s brain. 

“Ok, just tell me if you want to leave.” Matt ordered. You mock saluted in response.

“Yes, sir!” You giggled as he shuddered with a scoff.

“You asked for it, sweetheart.” 

The next several hours were spent sorting through the deceptively small pile on Matt's bed. Matt tasked you with sorting things into categories, which mostly meant separating clothes from school supplies, while he put things back in their designated areas. After finding his headphones tangled, one of his binders broken, and still having no clue where his glasses were, Matt was sliding back to the edge of his rope. 

His jaw tensed as he grit his teeth, running his fingers along the sleeves of the sweater he was trying to fold in an attempt to straighten them. Growling in frustration he tossed the sweater back onto the bed and ran a hand over his face. 

“C'mere, trouble.” You extended your arms to him and he gratefully collapsed against you. Rubbing small circles into his tight shoulders, you felt a burst of pride as he relaxed against you. “You getting fed up again?” 

Matt nodded, face still buried against your neck. You frowned understandingly, untangling the tousled hair along his nape. “Hmmm, I guess we could take a break, what do you think?” 

Matt whined, tugging your hips toward his bed. 

Laughing at his reaction, you scratched at his scalp. “Ok, Matty. Why don’t we stop for a bit, then? Sound good?” 

“Mmmhmm.” Matt murmured, legs turning to jelly as you massaged his pounding head. 

Using one hand to shove aside the remaining items on his bed, you crawled up to the headboard and positioned yourself against the wall, letting Matt cuddle up to your side. 

You immediately ran a hand back up to his nape, resuming the rhythmic touches that you knew would calm him down. Matt shuddered, rubbing his face into your shoulder as he stifled a yawn. Chuckling at his oddly adorable actions, you wondered if he’d slept at all last night. “You tired, bubs?” You asked softly, grinning knowingly at his affirmative groan. 

“Go to sleep, bubba. I don’t mind.” 

He must’ve been exhausted because his mouth stayed closed, though you had fully expected an argument. After a few minutes of deep breathing, his body began to slacken against your side. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you adjusted the covers as best you could, given that they were covered in a couple dozen pounds of stuff, and tucked him in. And, with Matt dozing at your side, you continued sorting through the pile spilling across your lap. 

Matt didn’t dream much. Occasionally, he’d have a nightmare; his body experiencing phantom sensations like being hit or feeling someone’s pulse slowly fade, but that was the extent—until he’d met you. It was like you knew you had a direct line to his brain. Your soft touches lingered for hours after the contact ended, his frayed nerves still firing rapidly, replaying the feeling of your fingers in his hair, your lips on his forehead. 

He wasn’t meant to feel the kiss. Not that it meant anything more than platonic affection—he was fairly certain it didn’t—but that didn’t mean it didn’t electrocute every cell in his body, vaporizing the immense heap of irritation that had been building since he’d started his day off so poorly. 

You had that power over him. Haunting his every waking moment and chasing his subconscious while he slept. You were his constant. 

Wedged against you and his headboard, he felt safe, and fatigue had quickly overtaken him. He slept more peacefully than he had in weeks because of you, though the lack of Foggy’s sleep apnea definitely helped. Wading through a field of mental static, he rested, until your subtle movements beneath him popped his bubble of solace. 

“Matt?” You murmured, stroking a finger along his cheek. 

“Hngh?” He uttered, blearily. Was that a word? He was pretty sure that was a word. 

It must not have been a word because you shook with a giggle. Rubbing his cheek with your thumb, he could hear you nibble on your lip. “I gotta leave, trouble. I’m sorry, I’m meeting Evs soon.” 

The mention of your obnoxious paramour drew him fully out of slumber. He dug the heel of his hand into his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them. “Shit, I’m up.” 

“I’m really sorry to wake you up. Did you sleep ok?” Your voice wobbled with guilt and he tried to give a convincing smile. 

“Yah I did. Thank you for staying.” 

“Of course! It’s almost 3:00 pm. I texted Foggy and asked him to bring you food, he’ll be here with it soon.” As you spoke, you slid off of his thin mattress, adjusting your clothes and hair. 

“Crap. I didn't mean to hold you hostage.” Matt grumbled. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be! I enjoyed being your pillow.” You chuckled, but the statement held nothing but honesty, and that knowledge made his heart flutter. “I, um, I finished sorting your things. I didn’t put away anything unless I was certain of where it went, but…” You trailed off excitedly, snatching his hand from the mattress and placing a lightweight item in his semi-open palm. 

“I found your glasses! They were behind your mattress, I almost missed them.” 

Tracing the metal frames slowly, Matt choked on a breath. “Thank you, sweetheart.” 

“Oh you don’t need to thank me, Matt. We take care of each other, remember?” Your smile was evident in your voice. 

He stayed silent, far too concerned with preventing a voice crack to speak. 

Realizing that you may have overwhelmed him, you hovered in front of the bed. “Sorry to throw all of that at you right after you woke up. Did you want me to show you where I put everything?” 

“No,” He spoke raggedly. Clearing his throat, he started again. “No, I can figure it out. Thanks, sweetheart. For everything. Have fun on your date.” 

Your heart stuttered as he mentioned your date. “Thank you, Matty. I will. Call me if you can’t find something?” 

“I will, bubs.” With that final promise, he slid on his lenses and jumped out of bed to walk you out. Waving his final goodbye, he closed the door, falling against it as he gathered his thoughts. 

Striding back to his bed, he let his fingers waltz over the meticulous stacks of his belongings. You’d straightened up his notebooks, folded his clothes, even arranged his textbooks in alphabetical order. All just because he’d been frustrated and asked for your help?

Running his fingers over the sweater at the top of the column of clothes, his throat constricted as wet trails formed down his cheeks. Pulling the garment to his face, he inhaled faint traces of your soap and natural fragrance, the scent embedded in the fabric. As the warmth from your body faded from his sheets, Matt crumpled to the floor, still clutching the woven sweater in his fist. 

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