#this isn't even near half of all the things about him

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

33 / 1.8k / shark mermen Gaz and Soap for mermay :)

...

You emerge from the cold saltwater with a gasp and cling to the only thing you can—a metal buoy, just as freezing as the ocean.

Something brushes your leg. Again. Then you feel a jolt of pain.

A moment later, he surfaces—the mer who cut you off from the boat and pursued you here. He looms closer, curious eyes fixed on you.

"Don't come any closer!" you tell him, half-strangled by seawater. You wish you sounded stronger. Your throat burns raw and your voice is choked. You press yourself up closer to the tower-shaped navigation buoy in a vain attempt to pull yourself away from him.

Gaz cocks his head to the side at the command, his black eyes flickering to your mouth in recognition. He treads the rough water effortlessly, lazily, the shape of his body under the water rolling.

He understands you perfectly. Then he moves closer anyway.

You sputter, fingers slipping as you scrabble for a better hold to—you're not sure, pull yourself to safety? There's nowhere to go.

He looms over you. You turn your face away and press into the buoy as tightly as you can. He rests his hand against the metal near your head, claws digging into the rust. His eyes rake over your body. You’re cold. Wet. Scared. Gaz can’t keep his eyes from moving all over you. From your wild, dripping wet hair down to where you disappear into the sea, thin human skin flat against curved metal. All the soft, exposed flesh in between.

Tentatively—when he doesn’t grab you—you steal a glance at him. His broad shoulders are bare, skin dark and smooth. Scars mark the sculpted muscles of his chest and forearms. Saltwater in the open cuts on your arm force your attention back to the situation at hand. He spots the bloody rivulets running down your forearm at the same time you do. It’s not just a series of cuts—it’s a bite mark. He bit you.

Then something big brushes your leg. You jolt, kicking, your shin banging hard against the base of your safe buoy. You nearly jump out of your skin when a second mer surfaces right behind you.

Gaz follows your stare back to the second mer. It’s Soap.

Soap grins, razor-sharp teeth flashing in the dim light. His dark hair is drenched, swept back from his face and away from his eerie all-blue eyes. When you don’t react immediately, freezing up instead, his hands crawl up your waist. You shriek. Soap laughs at your reaction. He tightens his hands on your waist and pulls you so easily from the buoy into the cage of his arms.

You struggle to keep yourself aloft without anything to hold on to. Soap seems blasé about keeping you high enough above the surface to breathe. He's more interested in your peculiar human features—your gilless ears, your flat teeth, the soft skin that extends well past your waist and hips. Even Gaz moves closer, enthralled with the sight of you wrapped up in Soap’s arms, your comparatively tiny human hands gripping and splashing around in a way they’d consider rather cute. Like a kitten curling its paws around a toy rather than someone fighting just to stay afloat.

Your lungs still burn with salt and your sparse clothes cling to you as you twist in the waves. Desperate to escape, you shove your left hand against Gaz's chest and your right elbow against Soap's, trying to make room for yourself between them and lift yourself away from Soap's curious, clawed hands. But there isn't much you can do.

Gaz stares down at your hand lingering on his chest. You have such short, blunt, thin claws. How are humans supposed to protect themselves with those? He looks up to see Soap attempting to wrestle your squirming, slippery little human body more securely into his arms.

"I had her," Gaz says in their mer language.

You can't understand it. To you, it sounds strange and half-muted, but you can feel the depth of the vocalizations in Gaz's chest and snatch your hand away as if burned.

“And now I have her,” Soap says.

"You shouldn't have grabbed her. She’s riled up now."

 “You just want to be the only one to see her up close. You can share." Not to mention he knows how Gaz can be. If Gaz were to get his hands on you first, Soap would be lucky to see a damn thing, much less touch you. Soap, on the other hand, knows how to share. “Have a look at the skin. Like an eel’s, but with little hairs.”

Gaz glares at him but obliges, dipping under the waves as he moves closer. He can’t resist the temptation of that soft flesh, so different from his own. Especially when Soap’s already got his hands on you and is feeling you up as much as he likes.

He circles you slowly as his eyes adjust to see you better in the low light. The rest of you is just as interesting as what's above water, if not more. You've got knees. Feet, even. He skims a claw from your ankle to your thigh. You kick in response, and Soap's long tail twists in the water to keep hold of you. Your feet, your legs—they’re so tiny. All flesh, no fins at all. Even when you kick, they just slide through the water so uselessly.

Above the water, you cry out at the sudden feeling. Cold dread settles into your gut as you recognize these two for what they are—not just mer, but sharks. Their size and sharp teeth give them away. Not to mention their skin. It looks like human skin, but it's smooth when rubbed in one direction and sandpaper-rough in the other. Exactly like the skin of the creatures they mimic.

You push blindly against Soap's chest, ignoring the bite of his claws as he holds on to you. You're certain they're about to pull you underwater and drown you. Maybe eat you. You've already been bitten.

Then, over the roar of blood in your ears, you hear the distant sound of a boat's bell. You swivel your head to see a small rescue boat. Someone must have noticed you were snatched overboard. Instantly, energy pulses into your limbs again. You push yourself up as far as you can, nails digging into Soap's shoulder, and you wave your arms and shout for all you’re worth to get the rescue boat's attention.

Soap whips his head around to follow the sound of the boat. He knows exactly what it is, and he doesn't like it one bit. The more he tries to hold you still, though, the louder and shriller your cries get. There's no chance the boat will miss you like this. Humans have really good eyesight even without their little lights. He could just let you go. He wanted to see you up close, and he did. But with Gaz circling below the water, and with every little touch reinforcing his curiosity about you, and with the smell of your blood filling his senses, he decides he and Gaz haven't had nearly enough time to study you.

With a beat of his tail, Soap pushes away from you.

You sink instantly, gasping in a mouthful of saltwater as you struggle to right yourself. You break the surface of the water one more time, but all that comes out when you try to call for help again is a watery choke.

A clawed hand wraps around your ankle and pulls you down. Your head submerges. Everything goes muffled besides the sharp stinging in your nose, eyes, and the bite on your arm. Soap's grip is like steel, pulling you down, down, down until the surface is just a glittering ripple far away. Your wild thrashing just tires you out, which makes keeping you under easier. He can only imagine the kind of panic that’s taking hold. Humans are notoriously poor swimmers.

Your vision spots as you struggle. Soap knows exactly what he's doing. His blood sings in his veins, the thrill of the hunt overriding everything. The moment is perfect: you under his control even as you fight like good prey.

The pressure of the water grows immense. It presses in on your eardrums and your chest cavity. You fight against the urge to breathe, but you are well and truly running out of oxygen.

Soap feels your struggling grow weaker. There's no way you're getting away now. You’re all his.

Suspended in the water above you both, Gaz understands exactly what Soap's instincts are telling him to do. His are saying the same thing: to strike while you're vulnerable, disoriented, desperate.

Instead, he dives to Soap and stops him.

"What are you doing?" he snaps. "Humans can't survive in the water."

Soap blinks like he’s turning his brain back on. "Aye. Am only hiding her."

"For how long?"

"Til the boat leaves. Morning, maybe."

Gaz grits his teeth. Before Soap can protest, Gaz darts up and grabs you with a burst of speed, ripping you right out of Soap’s grasp. The way he hooks you into the inside of his elbow knocks the last of the air out of you.

Your head spins. Your body is wracked by a dry, painful cough, and your mouth opens as your body instinctively tries to find air. Water fills your lungs. Gaz feels you convulse. He clamps his hand around your mouth. But it doesn't do you any good.

He propels you both up toward the surface. But instead of breaking through, he swims parallel, leaving the rescue boat behind.

You’re clinging to the final frayed threads of consciousness when you finally break the surface of the water. Your back hits sand. The impact forces your diaphragm to push a mouthful of water loose. That gets you coughing again. You flip over and cough what feels like an unsurvivable volume of seawater out of your lungs.

You cough until every muscle in your stomach hurts. You keep coughing as you get to your hands and knees and drag yourself up the rocky beach. Gravel cuts and burrows into your hands and knees. You don't have the capacity to notice anything besides the air you're desperately swallowing.

As soon as you're not completely convinced you'll die here, you collapse onto your side, curling into a fetal position. You don't notice the two lambent pairs of eyes watching you from the shallows.

...

[part 1] / part 2

more Gaz / more Soap / masterlist tag

[vulpixisananimal]

(Self harm and dagger(ish) below the cut)

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

(You and Isabeau were standing outside the Defenders house, it was just you two. The others where to look around Jouvente for information on mind craft and how to undo it.)

"It's probably not." (You reply.) "But it's less suspicious if it's just you and me."

"I guess so. . ."

"Chin up, Isabeau." (You turn to him, smiling.) "I got your back, break a leg!"

(He nods, more confident.) "Right! Break a leg!"

(You two walk in, you've been here before. On cue, Ramos shows up.) "Isabeau?!?"

("Just pretend you know them, that's your script.")

". . Ramos?" (Isabeau tilts his head.) "Is that you?"

(Ramos pauses for a second, before giving a big smile back and walking over) "Isa! it's been, what, almost a year??"

("You're best friends, you helped eachother out, just play along, you got this Isabeau~")

"Yeah!! Sorry I was just surprised to uh, see you!"

(Ramos goes to put a hand on Isabeaus shoulder, as you practiced, Isabeau visibly flinches, giving Ramos a pause.)

". . . You alright, Isa?" (They ask.)

"Y-yeah just," (He rubs his shoulder.) "Uh, I'll, tell you later! Oh! Right! This is Siffrin! A really good friend of mine!"

(Isabeau gestured to you, and you gave a a half bow.) "Charmed~"

(Honestly? Isa isn't as bad an actor as you first thought. Maybe it was that nervousness? Either way, it looked like it was working. Ramos gave that half bow back.)

"Good to meet you Siffrin! Let me guess, helped save the country?"

"Of course, your trusty rougish traveler Siffrin." (You wink.)

(Ramos squints.) ". . . Are you two-"

"A-anyway!!" (Isa cuts them off.) "I-I wanted to come visit while we're in town! See how my old friend is doing!"

"Oh! Oh thank you!" (Ramos is absolutly beaming.) "Hey!! Let me show you my new room here! It's awesome!"

(Okay, things were going well so far. Ramos didn't touch Isa, and it didn't look like they were going to try. Perfect. You had predicted that if Isa sticks to the script, Ramos wouldn't try and use mind craft. I mean, Isa already knew Ramos' name, and was acting like they were good friends.)

(You keep walking, Isa and Ramos chatting as you did. You were really proud of him, honestly. He was sticking to topics that might get you good information while avoiding suspicion. You learned that Ramos was genuinly getting better with defender stuff, and they were more confident. They had started experimenting with their scissors craft more, which you didn't even know about! Ramos was scissors\rock type. Ramos didn't have family in town.)

(Stars, maybe you should have payed more attention the first time you were here.)

(Finally, after many halls and a few staircases, Ramos came to a room and let you both inside. The room was a decent size, about the size of the Head Housemaidens office. There was a desk, a bookshelf, a wardrobe, a window outside, a bed, and a mat in the center of the room. It looks like it was for training.)

"Sorry! I don't have extra chairs." (Says Ramos, offering the desk chair to you two.)

"I'll be fine on the bed!" (Isa says cheerily.)

"I'll stand." (You say.)

"Suit yourself!" (Ramos collapses onto the chair and sighs.) "It's, it's really great to see you, Isa."

"Yeah. . ." (Isa replies.)

(You tilt your head, your turn.) "Is Jouvente a rough place? Looks like you got hurt."

"Huh? Oh!" (Ramos lifts up their shoulder to look at the bandage.) "Well, no, it's real safe here, not had any issues in forever, but. . ."

"But. . ?"

"W-well, I, honestly have no idea, haha." (They laugh nervously,) "I got sliced pretty bad I guess, looks kinda like a sword? Deffinatly a pierce craft thing though, at least that's what I was told."

(Huh, Mirabelle's rapier would have done that. Hmm, then there's a way Ramos could blame HER for the near kidnapping. But still. . .) "You don't remember at all?"

"Nope!" (Ramos shakes their head.) "There was a lot of yesterday that's just a blur."

(Huh!)

(Do you believe them?)

(I'm starting to.)

"I can relate." (You say.)

(Ask about wishes.)

"Say, Ramos, have you heard of Wish Craft?"

"Huh?" (They tilt their head.) "Wish Craft?"

(You nod, Ramos starts thinking, and eventually replied,) "Wish Craft, Wish Craft. . . Oh maybe!"

(OH?)

(Interesting.)

"Yeah I think I heard about it from someone I met! Make a wish and-"

(You see them visibly wince, then shake their head before continuing.) "And. . . And. . ."

(You and Isa glance at each other. Clearly, something just happened. Isa speaks up.) "Make a wish and, what?"

(Ramos blinks, then smiles.) "Sorry, what where we just talking about?"

(What.)

(Isabeau stood up.) "Are you, alright? Rams?"

"Yeah just, just a bit dizzy." (They stand up too, using their desk to support themself.) "I just, need some air-"

(They trip getting up, and before you could stop him, Isabeau rushed forward to catch them before they hit the ground, and caught their hand.)

(There was a moment before Isa realized what he just did. He gasped, let Ramos down and backed away.) "Oh, o-ohcCrab Sif, Sif I'm s-"

"It's alright!" (You walk over to Isa and put a hand on his shoulder.) "Dizzy?"

"What are you two-" (Ramos says, getting up off the floor.)

(Isa nods, you could see him squinting, he put a hand to his head. Stars, mind craft in action. You pat his shoulder.) "You'll be alright, the plan, remember?"

"R-right." (Isabeau, still holding his head, rushed to the door and left. That was the plan B, after all. If Ramos touches you, run to the others.)

(Speaking of, Ramos was looking at you in bewilderment.) ". . . What the change!?!"

"You wished to be just as strong as Isabeau" (You grip your dagger.) "You were given a gift of Mind Craft so that everyone would believe you were as strong as him. You wanted to be everyones favorite, the best. "

(They're shocked, as to be expected.) "How do you know that!"

(You smile at them.) "You told me."

(Ramos is looking at you, backing up to their dresser.) "I-"

"Truth time, Ramos~" (You say, drawing your dagger and twirling it around.) "I'll start, I can repeat today as many times as I want~ We've actually met four times already."

"But that's. . ." (They were looking at you, and around the room, before sighing.) "No, that's perfectly possible, the King froze time after all."

"Tee hee~ the King was an amature. Your turn, do have a question for me?"

(Ramos scoffed.) "If you can repeat today as many times as you want, why should I tell the truth? I wont remember anything if time gets undone, right?"

(You keep smiling.) "Because the alternative is me coming back here every time, and each time finding out a new way to hurt you~"

(Ramos is staring at you.)

"You're trying to figure out if I'd do it, of course I would. To me, everyone here is an actor, including myself~"

(You twirl your dagger, then hold it right below your eyepatch.) "Time will just get turned back after all~"

". . . You're insane."

"Quite~" (Stars, Siffrin, please forgive me. You press the blade against your skin. It stings, you can feel the blood-)

"S-stop stop!!" (Ramos waves their hands.) "I get it! Alright! Fine! I just, fine!"

"Good~" (You put the knife down, ow ow ow. . .)

(And you call me a hypocrite.)

(. . . You keep talking.) "Now, truth time, did you try and kidnap a kid named Bonnie yesterday?"

"What?!?!" (Ramos seemes offended at the idea, scowling at you.) Of course not!!"

(Same reaction. Maybe it's not them, or they don't remember.)

"Good! Now, how about-"

"Hey! My turn!" (Ramos interupts.)

"Fine, fine, ask away."

(Ramos was glaring at you, they grunted.) "Did. . . Did Isabeau really remember me? Or was all that a carbbin' act."

(Hmmm.) "A bit of yes, a bit of no. He didn't bring you up on our grand adventure, but when I woke up this morning and told him all about you, well, he seemed so genuinly worried~"

(They look away, no response.)

"My turn~ Where did you get this Mind Craft, Rammy?"

"Don't call me that." (They're staring daggers at you.) "Ever."

(Your taken aback by that.) "Oh, sorry." (What kind of nerve did you hit?)

". . ." (They huff.) "I asked for it, and I got it, that's it."

"That's it? Aren't we having truth time Ramos~?"

"Shut the crab up!" (They bite back.) "What do you care anyway! Change, you could probably just kill me and get on with your life!"

(. . .)

"Yeah, you could, you could blame it on whoever you want I bet. So why don't you! It'd be easy! Just easy to get rid of me and move on!!"

(They rip open the door of their clausit and grab a weapon, a pair of tonfas. Looking back at you, there was murder in their eyes.)

(What in the stars did you SAY.)

"If you CAN go back in time, do it." (They were about to pounce.) "'Cause otherwise I'll make you forget your whole crabbing life."

(. . . . . . .)

(You open your mouth, you tell them to never touch your memory. Ever.)

(You rush forward with blinding speed, swiping at Ramos' neck with your dagger. They block. You recoil.)

(What are you doing?!?!!)

(You ignore Loop. Ramos counters, a one, two, three hit combo to try and get you off balance. You dodge each of them, and swipe back, catching Ramos' arm. Good.)

(GOOD?!? Are you even thinking right now! They could turn into a sadness again and we'd be stuck at square one!!!)

(So what.)

(They hold out a fist and strike a pose, as if on cue you can feel your feet get sluggish. Stars. They're smart. You're smart, too. You hold a palm, [PAPER])

(SO WHAT?!? We almost lost to that sadness! )

(You almost lost to that sadness. Besides. You wont let Ramos live long enough for that.)

(WHAT?!?)

(Ramos gets blasted into their desk, but got up quickly, wiping some blood off of their mouth and diving at you. You sidestep and-)

(NO!!!)

(They dive at you, this time you deflect the blow, leaving Ramos open. Hmm, did you loop on instinct? You saw at the last second that Ramos was about to hit you with their back foot? Strange. You swipe at them with your dagger. You connect.)

"Hrrk-" (They stumble back, gripping a wound in their chest.)

(You can't kill them! We can't kill them!)

(It's that or get our memory erased.)

(We can't-)

(Ramos glares at you, grabs something on their desk and throws it at you. You swipe it out of the air, Ramos took the chance and rushed at you and-)

(You dodge the thrown item and dance out of Ramos way, swiping at them again.)

(. . . . . . .Where is everyone?)

(Who, is everyone?)

(Your opponent is panting, and looks at you with anger in their eyes. They look so different. So wild. Who are you? Who am I. No time to think, just get ready to move again. Ramos, they gripped their wound and gritted their teeth, some healing craft rushing to the gash.)

(You ready your dagger, you breathe in, and out. Time is your plaything, you will try and try again untill you win. The question is, what role will you take?)

(You dash forwards, moving like water, like sand. You swipe at what seems to be their dominant arm.)

(Another block, and another counter attack. You try and parry this one-)

(Wont work, try again.)

(You feel the weight of time upon you back, but no, you will defy it.)

(You try and dodge this time. You rush to the side, Ramos strike going over your head as you-)

(No, try again. once more, action. You rush in. Not expecting it, Ramos overshoots you. You grip your dagger, now behind them.)

(You've won. In this moment, no matter what, you can repeat your script to this victory.)

(. . . You strike them on the back of the head with the hilt of your dagger. Today, mercy.)

(Ramos collapses to the floor. Your adversary, perhaps. The antagonist? For now, that's what they are all for now. You kneel down.)

(. . . . . . . . .)

(They're not dead.)

(You hold your head as a wave of mental exhaust rushes through you. Ok. You were back. Loop time. You terrible, terrible think! Stop taking over just at any time! You barely could remember the battle! What did you DO!?!)

(. . . Not here then? Fine! You get up, you needed to search the room, quickly.)

(Nothing around the bed, the dresser is full of clothes, of many different styles- wait you recognize that stitching. A vest that Isabeau must have made. Ok, ok what else. Drawers! You look through the drawers, nothing, random magazines, and- oh you wont check that one again. Nothing.)

(The desk. Check the desk. You look through the different cabbinets in the desk, anything- maybe something taped to the underside? No. Stars, wait. . .)

(Stuffed at the very back of the bottom drawer of the desk was a photo.)

(The back was signed. "Good luck, Azzy, and write home often.")

(You heared footsteps outside. No time- wait, one last thing. You go over to Ramos, and gently undo their bandana, taking care to not touch the skin. Sure, you had gloves, but just in case. . .)

(There it is. Damn star pendant. It glowed softly. Taking a snuff, it smelled of. . . Mint? Maybe, was it mint? No, wasn't there supposed to be a sugary smell? It was a wish after all, right?)

(. . . You have more questions for next time, but someone was banging on Ramos door.)

(You look out the window- Oh of course. You were what, three? Four stories up? If you jumped out from here, you'd likely die.)

(. . . Like that wasn't an issue, tee hee~ And if you don't die, you could check with the others.)

(. . . No time to dwell on it, you back up a few steps, take a breath, and take a running leap.)

(. . .It's like your flying!)

[fumiko-matsubara]

Class 3B - Fukiyose Eiji (OC)

Another goddamned redesign update with this bastard because my art style keeps changing.

He also appeared on my most recent calendar mark written short.

Fukiyose Eiji (吹寄 英二) ー causing trouble for others and himself because of his unpleasant tongue; an audacious prick indeed!

"These roses symbolize my undying devotion towards you, my dear Ryuunosuke! Please accept them!"

Birthday: August 3

Height: 178 cm

Weight: 65 kg

Blood Type: O

Favourite Subjects: Japanese and Biology

Worst Subjects: PE and Health

Interests and Special skills: Antagonizing people

Current Club: Light Music Club

Treasured Item(s): His old journal about flower languages

Favourite Food: Egg pie

Bento or Snacks: Snacks

Tall, good-looking, and gets good grades; he could have been considered as an ikemen if it weren't for his liking towards provoking people for fun.

He is un-athletic and hates sports with a burning passion. The kind of excuses he makes to avoid participating in any physically demanding event is an ongoing concern among the teachers.

He is, however, very diligent and gets the job done, but still has a lot to say. You can expect him to dutifully fulfil tasks given to him while loudly complaining about it at the same time. Chiba Ryuunosuke is usually on the receiving end of his passionate complaints, and it pisses him off.

Anybody in Kunugigaoka who had come across him either finds him annoying or might consider attempted murder.

He and Shimada Miho are the founding members of D.R.E.A.M, one of the bands formed in the school's light music club. But aside from writing lyrics, Eiji avoided being given any sort of responsibility within the band - band leadership was pushed onto Chiba, and club presidency was transferred to Miho.

Tsuchiya Kaho was initially mildly interested in him... until he opened his mouth. Since then, Eiji is usually on the receiving end of Kaho's wrath whenever he sets her off. He had no choice but to always cross paths with her since she is best friends with Miho.

He and Kanemoto Shiori are partners in crime. He is her frontsoldier while she exposes any Kunugigaoka student she has dirt on behind the scenes. If things go south, Eiji is there for a reason.

He is the easiest to blame for any slight inconvenience because he tends to dig his own grave even further.

By the 2nd semester, Chiba had temporarily kicked him out of the band for about 16 times.

Because of all the questionable things he had been doing the past three years, a good number of students believe that he might be gay.

At one point, Nakamura Rio was convinced that he is Chiba's secret boyfriend.

Chiba still hadn't forgiven him, and probably never will, for what he did in their 2nd year.

[moonsaver]

You were his sister's enemy.

Well, he rather assumes it.

Robin defends you whenever he scorns at you, and simply mentions you as someone who just has trouble communicating. Sunday, on the other hand, does not take to your mannerisms politely. Although distance and discord within branches of The Family have long shifted his attention from his sister and their once joint dream, it doesn't mean his protectiveness of it has vanished.

Your singing was nowhere near as perfect as his sister's, he believes. Robin defends you, saying you're great in your own way, and both of you have different styles of singing. He comments on your more mature look with disdain, thinly admonishing it as vulgar, while Robin tries to convince him you just work under a sultry concept. Everything you did, it was never as good as Robin's, and whenever even a single track of yours threatened Robin's on the chart, Sunday would be displeased. According to him, you were competing for fame with Robin, and even the audacity of you to go such lengths was disdainful.

Robin, however, has been trying to convince Sunday to be on better terms with her lover.

He isn't exactly unnoticing of Robin's new lipstick that's in a different shade than what she'd normally wear. A new perfume that's oddly charming, but expensive, not exactly what he sees her picking out. Hair accessories that he's never seen in her drawers, nail polish he's never seen her wear before, a new fresh change to her voice that's making it livelier as of late, which is suspicious, considering all of this takes place simultaneously after she leaves your room.

It's not long until Sunday manages to get a quiet moment with you. Confrontation isn't foreign to him, and neither are implied, cordial threats that are already schemed within the front of his mind as he gently turns the handle to your door.

You greet him politely, as expected, and both of you get talking. He gauges you out, asking you specific and roundabout questions, eyes scrutinizing the familiar color of nail polish on your fingers that were once on Robin's, the half-used bottle of perfume thats slightly peeking out of the poorly hidden drawer which he's sure is something Robin would pick, the glossy, sticky tissue which he assumes you used to wipe off some sheer gloss, which you obviously don't wear.

He's hostile, and he doesn't quite hide it. Warning, teetering on edge, observing and calculating his next question and your responses with every second. But alas, he finally leaves you alone, and silently takes his leave.

-

Sunday hates you. And that is a hill he will surely die on.

Or rather.. what else would you call this ugly, seething feeling inside his chest?

Seeing your eyes soften, your smile quirk up on your usually stoic face, your lazy, languid hands finding their usually hiding spot, tucked onto Robin's waist.

It makes him seethe seeing you do those things with his sister.

Or really, anything you do.

The laugh you share with an overly friendly employee, the side glance, silent communication with some of your audio-managing team, the playful pinching of your cheeks by another singer that's far too comfortable with you.

Your actions are.. despicable. Sure they are. And he starts questioning just why. He deludes himself with any reason that is clearly beyond rationale, and barely constrains a scoff when you try and ask him about his dampened mood.

Of course, he should find them despicable when they're done to him, too. But he doesn't.

And it's even more infuriating. He smiles softly and laughs at some of your words, playfully bumps you from time to time, and chuckles when you return the favor. He feels special when you make certain eye gestures, remember a few inside jokes, and wink at him to keep them a secret. And once he returns to his solitary confinement, it dawns on him, and he should be grinding his teeth to dust from the absolute fury you supposedly induce in him.

But he doesn't.

He's only left with a light feeling in his heart, which slightly, mournfully dampens when he sees you do the same with Robin.

They've shared a dream once. Surely, they can share a love, too?

[ridingthatd]

𝜗𝜚 ˖ ◜𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 ◜˖𝜗𝜚

˖𝜗𝜚 chosoxfem!reader, nsfw, heavy smut, masturbation, breastfeeding, squirting, filthy, kinky, horny ˖𝜗𝜚

you have always managed to make choso feel stuff he has never felt before, and by now he isn't surprised by the way you always manage to get him turned on by the smallest things you do.

choso wasn't the type to be sexually active, he never had any interest in any sexual activities, it got to the point where he thought he might be asexual not until he met you.

now every god damn second he's near you he's hard. it's concerning at this point the way his dick squeeze up his pants trying to get out free.

you smile at him. he's hard. you simply say his name. he's hard. you innocently wave at him. he's hard. you try to help him with his wounds. he's hard. just one touch from you and he thinks he could cum in his pants, it's driving him crazy why, how and when did he become like this, acting like a teenage pervert who never felt a touch of a woman. he hates himself no he despise himself for feeling like this, for feeling so helpless that he can't just have you, choso lost count from how many times he had dirty thoughts about you, daydreaming about ways he can make you whine his name, ways he can make you squirt all over his face, ways he can make his, fuck you, breed you, he wanna stuff you with his cum, he wanna see his cum squirting out of your pussy from being to stuffed, he wanna-

" choso?.." choso was snapped out of his thoughts by the one and only, the girl that has been driving him crazy, the girl that has him hard 24/7, the girl that is so innocent that she has no idea about how dirty choso was, about how dirty her boyfriends brother was- yes you were yujis little girlfriend, and this is what makes it more dirty.

"I'm sorry the door was slightly opened, I didn't mean to interrupt your privacy" you said in the sweet angelic voice of yours, the voice that always manage to make him whimper from how close it has him cumming in his pants.

he takes a look at you from his desk, and oh god he wish he didn't, here you are in causal clothes, a long skirt that reachs your knees and a buttoned up shirt- no a half buttoned up shirt since you decided to leave the upper half open to bless him with the view of your cleavage, full and round, he bets they would be warm and heavy around his mouth, lash on your nipples they would be so soft, his spit coating them, sucking and gripping on them after an exhausting day.

he snaps out of it and scoff "what brings you here..?" he says in a cold, stern voice lazily moving his eyes from you to the book he was readin- he was supposed to read. "uh.. well.. um yuji said that you haven't been to the hospital after your injury since you hate the place and.." you take a deep breath while fidgeting around with the medical box you have in your hands "i.. i thought maybe i could help you treat your wounds here instead" you nervously say while chewing on your lips avoiding his eyes, choso is speechless how do you always manage to make him feel this way tug on his heart

you start getting anxious by his silence maybe you over stepped his boundaries after all even if you are the girlfriend of his brother that doesn't mean you can act this way, "forget about this-" you were interrupted by choso standing up and making his way toward his bed just to have a seat on it while staring at you with his cold eyes that never failed to have you on your knees "get in and close the door behind you" says choso, yet you still remind standing, speechless "what? weren't you the one who suggested this? don't make me regret my decision." choso said in a soft voice scared that you will change your mind and leave, scared that he won't be able to feel your touch, treating his wounds, hes gone crazy he wants you to treat him just to feel your soft hands on his back where his wound laid, his hard on is already pressing on the zipper of his pants, plusing and waiting for your response luckily he had a blanket on his lap to hide his pervert side from you.

"i- okay." you said softly closing the door behind you, for some reason the idea of having you on his bed with him and you only, door closed, makes him even harder he wouldn't be surprised if his dick sprung out of his pants from how hard he is right now. you take a seat behind him "may I?..." you ask referring to his shirt that you're about to take off, he slowly nodes breathing hard he can feel his whole body getting hot just at the thought of you touching his skin, you slowly take off his shirt brushing your finger against his skin every so slightly, choso fight off the whimper he wanna let out from how good it feels to have your cold fingers brush against his warm body, once the shirt is off you start rubbing a cotton on his wound "does it hurt?.. " you softly whisper sadness filled in your voice, but choso was to drunk off being needy and horny to listen all he can think about right now is the feeling of your hands on him, so good so good he thought, he can feel the percum on his dick, he thinks he might go crazy, his mind is blank as you start gazing your finger tips against his wound whispering so sweetly against his ear he can feel your hot breath " choso? is this okay?" and he lost it he let's out a loud whine that throws you off you quickly push your hands off scared that the sound that left him was out of pain "I.. Im sorry I didn't mean to hurt-"

your words were cut off by choso hissing through his teeth "don't stop." he groaned out, placing your hand where it was you freeze you didn't realize what's happening not until you saw chosos hands under the blanket tugging on what seems like a hard on- no no there's no way choso, your boyfriends brother- you were cut off your thoughts when you hear choso stumbling over his words "I'm sorry shit- im sorry, please don't stop please please" he whines out hips buckling up to meet his hands, he's basically humping his dick in front you while pushing your hand into his back, choso never been the selfish type but this time he can be selfish when it comes to you.

[surftrips]

CROSS YOUR HEART AND HOPE TO DIE

pairing: young coriolanus snow x reader

word count: 600+

summary: based on "follow you" by bring me the horizon. young/slightly ooc coriolanus snow finds comfort in y/n's arms.

a/n: yeah, i can't believe i'm returing from my hiatus with a coriolanus snow x reader fic, but here we are. please feel free to send in prompts/requests with him though ;)

"Because I don't want to fucking hurt you.” Coriolanus snapped. "God, half the time, I'm scared I could break you, even though I'm doing everything I can to hold back."

Your boyfriend was having a hard time lately. The anniversary of his father's death was creeping up and you knew he was having those thoughts again.

He had confided in you early on in your relationship his two biggest fears: losing you, and turning into his father. Now, he was spiraling with thoughts of both happening.

"Talk to me," you said, trying to reassure him. The two of you were by the lake, entangled in each other's arms on a blanket.

"I- I just..." he was trying to catch his breath. "I'm so angry all the time and you, you're an angel. You've never done anything wrong in your life. I don't deserve you, I don't know how to not fuck this up."

You couldn't help but smile at his name for you, reaching out to caress his cheek. He leaned into your familiar touch, one of the few things that could calm him down when he was like this.

It was true, he did get mad at the smallest things. Just last week, he got jealous of Sejanus for holding up your skirt as you went down the stairs, even though the two of you were clearly just friends.

And yesterday, he was frustrated with something that happened during training and came back to the cabin furious. You had asked him how his day was, like usual, and he had snapped at you.

"It was bad. Do you have to ask me that everyday?" he retorted, knocking over the items on the shelf closest to him.

But even though he got jealous or angry sometimes, you knew that he was working on it. He always felt awful afterward, and always made sure that you knew how sorry he was. That night, he had drawn a bath for you and even added some wild lavender he found near the water.

"Hey, you know I love you, right?" you said.

He sat up slightly to make better eye contact with you, "I do. But what if that's not enough?"

You frowned, "My love isn't?"

"No, no. I meant what if love, in general, is not enough? What if that's not enough to change my fate? Y/N, you know about my father, he was awful."

"I know, Coryo," you sighed. "But I also know you, and you're a good person. You love me, you love the Covey. You care about me, and your family. You want to be good, and I think that is enough."

Still, he didn't seem convinced. "I hate that I can barely remember him anymore, but he's still haunting me. The rebels that killed him haunt me. What if that happens to me?"

"Stop. No one here is going to do that, they know you're on our side. Don't you see? You're trying so hard to not be like your father, but you don't have to try to be good. You just are, deep-down in here," you pointed to where his heart is. "You are."

He leaned down now to pull you into a kiss. "Angel, can you promise me something?"

"What is it?"

"Promise me you'll never leave my side."

"Coryo, you could drag me through hell if it meant I could hold your hand. I will follow you to the ends of the earth. We're in this together."

That seemed to please him, finally. He wrapped his arms tighter around you and pulled you to lay back down with him. The two of you stared up at the stars, each silently wishing for this to work out.

[radiance1]

Gimmie a Danny and Damian twins au, but not one where they're all gushy gushy and huggy huggy about the fact that they're reunited.

I want one, where they HATE and try to KILL EACH OTHER. Where they're extremely fucked up in their relationship with one another, but can't kill the other because Taila hoped that they could get along.

They spew poison at each other, inflict pain on each other as easy as BREATHING and would leave the other while heavily injured while saying that they could take care of themselves.

I want them to be near mortal-enemies wrapped up in the bodies of two highly-competent and powerful 14 year olds who cannot give a fuck about each other, has a fleeting thought of killing the other on the best of days but doesn't because of their dear mommy Taila.

Then force them to interact with each other after a long period of separation. I don't give a flying FUCK how you manage to do it, perhaps Danny has to run because his parents vivisected him, perhaps the Nasty Burger explosion couldn't be reversed because Clockwork said no and Danny is torn or perhaps Vlad brings him to Gotham for a gala (either redeemed or not redeemed Vlad), etc, etc.

Force these two children who fucking HATE each other under the same roof, make them interact, make them watch each other interact and make comments about it. Maybe even make an unstable Danny try and KILL Damian, but is stopped by the batfam, or maybe make it that Danny can't even bring himself to kill Damian because he's (discounting Talia) the only family he has left.

Maybe even (if you go the Nasty Burger/Dead Fenton fam au) make Danny hate Bruce Wayne's fucking GUTS because this man is trying to replace his dead father (even though Bruce IS his biological father) and hates him even MORE because he looks so similar to Jack's face that he's literally torn whenever he sees him. Make it that he never stays in the same room as Bruce whenever he's not in mask, make it that he tells Bruce TO HIS FACE that he hates the man for trying to replace his dead FUCKING dad and that he will NEVER accept him as one, biologically related or not.

Maybe even make him not like the batfam either just for the fact that they associate with both Bruce and Damian.

(I just remembered about that one post I saw, but BOY is this ramble gonna get even WORSE for dear old Danny. Though this part isn't really necessary could just read the on top bit lol)

Maybe they even find a way to take away his ghost side, and Bruce (With or without Talia) say that it's for the best for him, and Danny? Danny just fucking BREAKS. DOWN. He's full-on crying and screaming at Bruce and maybe has to be held back by the other batkids or not, or maybe he's just fulling on trying to hit Bruce and Bruce either dodges or just takes it.

Saying how fucking DARE he take away his ghost side, that was apart of him and he had NO FUCKING RIGHT to take away something so precious from him. Then Bruce could say that he doesn't need powers, he could be fully if not even more capable as a human.

And Danny just goes "You don't even get it, do you?" And Danny just cries harder because technically that was one the LAST things linking him to his parents. His DEAD parents. Sure, the accident was his fault, but phantom was created because of their portal, in their lab, in their basement.

Even worse if the reveal went RIGHT and they starting accepting how he was half ghost and trying to change their views on ghosts as a whole, only to die. Then, for some guy to just, take away something like that from him?

Maybe Danny would even say that, rip into him about how that was one of the only things linking him to his parents and even if it wasn't he didn't have the fucking right to decide what to do with HIS body.

"You never had to fucking worry about your parents not accepting you, I did. They still loved me regardless, they tried to change for me. But you wouldn't even know what that feels like, would you, you stupid fucking rich boy."

[idk why I typed that part out but just role with it.]

Maybe Bruce tries to sympathize with Danny about his parents, but Danny just doesn't have any fucks left to give about Bruce's life, or anyone else life in Bruce's life at all and just shuts it down or steamrolls over it. At the end of it all Danny is just a crying, shivering wreck and stares down Bruce with eyes full of HATE that tells Bruce one step closer, and he would KILL him.

Maybe then Damian (Either walks in or was there the entire time.) insults Danny over his weakness and depending on his ghost form or something, and Danny just sees fucking RED and jumps on him. No care that he's no longer half ghost, so that he means he could die more easily, no care to anyone else in that room, no care that Talia wanted both of them to get along and not kill each other.

He tries to kill Damian.

He fails miserably, of course, but he still tries. Then tries again and a fucking gain.

Then after all that he just, doesn't come out of his room, or tries to escape and leave Gotham every chance he gets. He never gets far, but he keeps trying, and he never opens up to anyone in the batfam, not even Alfred.

He's just a kid who lost everything he worked so hard for, everything he tried to hide from his biological mother and her assassin league who tried to keep whatever he had left. Now that kid is fueled by nothing but pure, revolting hatred for the people who took even that from him.

Basically like Dark Danny, but way more powerless and fully human.

[Okay that's enough of me rambling.]

[luveline]

would you ever be willing to write the day spencer and stripper!reader met in the grocery store? i’ve always loved the concept when you’ve referenced it in the story, i would love to read it👀 you’re absolutely incredible and i can never say anything not anon to you because my blog is flooding you with notes constantly and i’m embarrassed😅

thank you for your request ❤️ fem!reader, 1.5k

cw for domestic violence and workplace abuse

There's this weird organic grocery store by Spencer's place that's far too expensive, but it's a ten minute walk, so that's where he goes. (Weird in separation to organic.) 

He needs a lot of groceries now he's home for the week. Bread, vegetables, rice, flour if he wants to try and make pancakes, which he does. He also needs a new pen to write a letter for his mom, but Leaven is slightly too small for a stationery section. 

He doesn't know what he'll say to her in this one. Maybe that the cases he's going on are easy, or that he's been reading about crows. She's not feeling well lately. It might help her to know he's doing gentle things, even if it isn't true. 

No, he thinks. Can't lie to her. He never lies to his mom. 

Eggs. Sugar. Coffee grounds. He fills his cart. It'll be a lot to carry on the way home, but better to do it in one go. He likes keeping busy but he's a human being, too, and he's looking forward to spending at least sixteen hours in bed after dinner tonight. 

You look tired, too. 

Your back is turned, but Spencer knows it's you. You must live close by, he's been seeing you duck in and out for months. Usually with a loaf of bread or a single box of painkillers tucked in your pocket. You don't steal, he'd be able to tell, and he wouldn't say anything if you did, anyways. All he knows about you is that you have a nice smile when you have the energy, and your voice is like silk. Purposeful or by nature, he's yet to guess. 

You're standing by the end of the aisle near the checkouts with a basket hanging from your fingers. All you're buying today is a box of pancake mix and a bag of peas. 

Weird, he thinks with a smile. Spencer likes weird stuff. It's quirky. 

You turn to see which checkout is empty and Spencer's smile abruptly drops. 

You have a bruise across half of your face. It isn't strictly fresh —he can see the split skin on your cheek starting to close in on itself, and your purpled eye is open (though barely). You're frowning. Spencer knows how bad it hurts to get hurt like that. For a split second he can't believe someone could do that to another person, and then he remembers the hundreds of women he's had the privilege to meet at their most vulnerable, who trusted him, and he thinks maybe he's capable of helping another one. 

“Hey,” he says. 

You meet his eyes with a funny smile. “Hey. Sorry, am I in the way?” you ask, your voice stretched, thin but not weak. 

“No, you're not, it's… I see you here all the time.” 

You hold your breath. When you talk, it rushes out. “So?” you ask wearily.

“Are you okay?” 

Your funny smile fades as Spencer's had. He supposes that's the talent of cruelty. Even when it's over, it's not truly over. Your bruise still hurts, and Spencer still needs to know you'll be okay when you go home tonight. 

“I see you all the time too. We've… we've actually spoken before, haven't we?” you ask after a moment. 

“Yeah, about spirometry. I was out of breath running and–” It doesn't matter. You asked him if he was okay, and he explained that he was, just that his lungs don't hold much air on account of his own laziness, and it doesn't matter. “Are you? Alright? It's a bad bruise.” 

“It's getting better.” 

It might be, but there's something so raw about seeing you standing there in your sweatpants too big for you and a hoodie with a hole in it, purple and yellow contusion across your eyes and nose like the clumsy stroke of a paintbrush. Spencer will admit to feeling sorry for you.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks, knowing this isn't the right place. “There's the cafe at the front? Let me pay for my stuff and–” 

“I'm really okay–” 

“You had a cast on your wrist two weeks ago and now you're here with a limp and a really bad bruise,” he says softly, imploringly, “I just wanna talk to you about it. You don't have to say yes, I'm not trying to be weird, but I–” 

You cut off his mile a minute speech with a small smile. “Okay. I'm not, you know, doing anything anyways. It'll be nice to sit down.” 

Spencer knows it's dumb, but he wants to show he has good intentions. He takes your basket out of your hands and nods toward the cafe past the checkouts. “I'll come and meet you.” 

“You don't have to,” you say, gesturing at the basket. 

“The damage is done, right? This place is ridiculous.” He doesn't like the way you're holding your hip. It makes him feel sick, even though there's no proof one way or another to say you've been hurt beyond your bruising.

He pays for his things and yours and meets you at the cafe. He's half expecting you to have bolted, but you sit at a table near the entrance, completely still. 

Spencer puts his two bags under the table and offers you your pancake mix and peas in their own bag. 

“Thanks.” 

“Yeah, no problem.” 

“It was my boss.” You look at your fingers, spreading them slowly over the table top. “I’m a dancer. Sorry. I know you’re going to ask.” 

“And he hit you?” 

“Yeah.” 

Spencer knows the number for every women’s shelter in every state, but he doubts it would matter to you. He can tell already that you’d say no. He can tell you’re scared, even if you don’t realise it yourself. “Is it getting worse?”

You can’t offer him anything else. He understands how that feels. There have been moments where he desperately wanted to tell someone, anyone, what was going on in his life, but he always holds his secrets like a perpetual ache in his throat. It’s like he can’t tell someone, even if they ask. 

Sometimes he just wishes they’d ask twice. 

“You can tell me. It won’t sound stupid,” he promises. He’s in some odd place between Agent Reid and young, terrified Spencer, determined to help you, but not sure how. “It’s getting worse, right?” 

“Yeah,” you say, the weight of tears on your tongue. 

“You’re a dancer. Is he just a boss– Does he… abuse you financially?” 

You laugh wetly. “He’s not my pimp.” 

He can feel his face heating up.’“No, but do you get paid on time? Everything you earn?” 

You shake your head. “No, I don’t get paid on time. He takes a percentage, and somehow there’s always another percentage, and then discipline. And now…” 

“Now he’s hitting you.” Very badly. 

“I’m not stupid.” 

Spencer frowns gently, talks softly, “I didn’t mean to imply that you were.” 

“No, I know, but I need you to know I’m not stupid. When we talked before, you– you’re so smart, I bet you know so many smart people.” 

He’s not sure where you’re going with this. Perhaps you don’t want to talk about being hurt anymore. It must be a kind of torture to be hurting and know that that hurting will come again. There isn’t an end in sight for you, just right now. 

“Can I buy you something to eat?” 

“I have money,” you say, taking your small purse from your pocket. There are a few notes wedged inside. 

“You can’t take painkillers on an empty stomach, and you should take painkillers again soon. You had some before you came, and they’re wearing off.” He meets your confused frown with a frown of his own. “Your hands are twitching like you want to move away from yourself.” 

“You’re very perceptive,” you say in that smooth murmur. Power clawed back, he thinks. You’re protecting one of the things you can control about how you’re seen when everything else is far from it. 

“I’m a profiler. Do you,” —he tries not to sound hoity toity— “know what that is?” 

“No.” 

“I’m an FBI agent.” You’re laughing as he takes out his badge. He joins you. “I know it sounds like I’m making it up.” Spencer offers you his identification passport slowly, so you know he isn’t wielding it around to be an asshole. “I’m in the behavioural analysis unit. We analyse the way people act. That’s why I know you’re in pain.” 

You take his badge, looking between his photo and his real face with a growing smile. “If you need all that to know I’m in pain, you’re not as smart as you think,” you tease, gesturing to the mottled skin of your bruise sweetly. 

Spencer buys you both cold sandwiches from the front of the shop and a drink to wash down your aspirin. It’s awkward, he guesses, but he’s used to that by now, and under it he can feel your palpable relief. You trust him to not hurt you, if nothing else, and he can work with that. 

[stave-writes]

Scruffy! (Various Dungeon Meshi Men x GN!Reader)

Summary: Your boyfriend really needs a trim of his stubble, and he's asked for your help :)

Word Count: 1711

Laios Touden

We all know Laios does NOT like being scruffy, especially when Falin tells him he looks like their father. So, it's a lovely thing when he asks you to look after him and help him shave.

Laios had been a little finicky lately, ever since leaving the dungeon he was a lot more conscious about himself. Mainly, his appearance. Rubbing at his new stubble and brushing his blonde hair that had grown out in places. Irritation was plainly visible each time he felt the slight scratch of stubble against his fingers, even a slight huff to his tone afterwards. "Hey, could I ask a favour?" was his innocuous question, head tilting back over the edge of your sofa. After an inquisitive sound of acknowledgement from you, a slight smile rose on Laios's face. "Mind helping me shave? I also want to cut my hair but can't see the back."

This is how you ended up sitting on the edge of your tub, scissors working away at the tufts of hair against the nape of his neck. Each little brush of your fingers against his skin caused a small giggle or shuffle from Laios, if he were a dog, his tail would be smacking against your leg so hard it'd hurt a little. A smile was visible on his lips every time you'd lean over to peek at him, and he'd look up at you eyes full of love.

"Did you know that tons of monster species use grooming as a form of intimacy?" Of course, you did, you're dating Laios Touden, if you didn't you'd have amnesia. Instead of an eye roll, you gave a little smile and nod.

Reaching his hand up, a pat against your leg was a signal he hadn't just passed out between your knees while you worked at giving him the cut he liked. A quick kiss pressed to your lips was a thankful gesture, nuzzling into your face before moving to work on shaving his stubble to save you from the beard scratches.

Chilchuck Tims

I see Chilchuck as the type of guy to have some time dedicated to a little self-care, although shaving isn't a big problem considering the half-footer's ageing span. But! His hair does still grow, so some help may be needed there.

It'd been a week since Chilchuck asked you to remind him to go get a haircut, and he still hadn't gone despite your near-constant reminders. Post-its on the counter, on his lockpicking tools, hell you once stuck one on his face for him to see in the mirror. At this point, it was getting ridiculous that he hadn't even gone to try and get it done.

"You're going to cut my hair...? I can just go get it done in town-" He huffed a little at you, rubbing at the back of his neck with a small frown. Your adamance had his stubbornness outweighed almost tenfold, so you rolled up a stool behind his chair and began to figure out how to trim his hair.

Hair was scattered everywhere by the time you were done, and Chilchuck's ego was only a little bruised by the number of grey hairs you saw while trimming it. He didn't seem to mind it too much though, the presence of a wagging tail that was usually hidden away under his clothing batting at your leg. At least his hair was finally trimmed, and a thankful kiss was pressed to your knuckles as you got up to sweep away the leftover hair.

Senshi of Izganda

Senshi doesn't particularly care for shaving or even washing his beard but knowing the kind of bacteria facial hair can carry (and after a lecture from Marcille) he's willing to have you help him with that beard the size of Cousin It from the Addams Family.

"Ah, I suppose Marcille's nagging finally got to me, that's all. I hope you don't mind helping me wash my beard, it'll take a while." Senshi muttered slightly, looking aside as he asked you for just a little favour. It was hard to ask such a thing from you, especially with how much you'd done already for him by just being with him. He felt absurdly lucky when you agreed, setting his helmet and upper armour aside to clean off his beard and hair.

It was a nicer experience than usual having a loving touch working at his hair first to wet it, then lather it and working slowly to get all the dirt out. It took a long long time to finish the first round of washing the hair and beard, alongside the several other scrubbing and washing rounds. It was an intensive process, but being able to smell clearly the soap in his hair was a good bonus, alongside the lack of a helmet.

Letting him dry for a few hours was the best idea you'd had this entire time, able to bury your face against the wall of fluff you called Senshi for a long while. The smell was great and the warmth was greater, you could've honestly slept there if you wanted. But, you had a plan! Readying a comb, boar bristle brush and your sanity, you began braiding Senshi's hair into long thick plaits and tying them off once you were done. It was tenuous but an enjoyable closeness, as you pressed your face into his back slightly. You couldn't help but marvel at your work when you were all done. The happy expression on your face made it hard for Senshi to resist placing a kiss on the crown of your head, a soft look in his eyes.

Toshiro Nakamoto

A large part of the teachings Toshiro lives by is to exist as a convenience to others, not asking much and not putting his needs in the forefront. So, when Toshiro comes to you asking for help looking after himself? It's a sign of trust. He knows you.

"You...would you help me?" Toshiro's voice is quiet and soft as he addresses you, a slight crease in his brow as he looks towards you. It's hard to be vulnerable around you even if you're adamant in your love for him. Even as you assure him it's not a bother to help him and that you're here for him, it's still... nerve-wracking. It's hard for him to settle himself as he eventually moves first to sit down on your bed, having you brush out his hair and praise the length and colour of his locks, he's still worried.

He's guided towards your bath and urged to get into the warm water, leaning his head back so you can scrub away any remaining dirt and eventually, he peeks an eye open to see your face as you work at making sure he's sparkling clean. The slight furrow in your brow, your intense posture and a huff finally as you finish cleaning his hair. He can't help but smile at your effort to look after him especially as Toshiro can feel the exhaustion melt away at your careful consideration of him.

Before he knew it, he was basically asleep in your tub, head leant back with your fingers working at his hair and scalp. The feeling of safety was all he needed from you. When it was done, he dried off and changed into some comfortable clothes he'd left with you before curling up beneath your duvet, head resting into the crook of your neck.

Mithrun of the House of Kerensil

Mithrun struggles with self-care due to his lack of desires and is used to being looked after by others. With you, though, it was different. Your touch was imbued with love, and you didn't choose to look after him because someone ordered you to, just...because you wanted to see him cared for.

Looking after Mithrun sometimes could be a lot, making sure he ate and bathed and slept all while making sure he kept his mana up enough for his work with the canaries. So, it'd been easier to devise a schedule for all the things that would need to be done by day and then by week. Three baths a week, each one day apart. Three meals a day, four hours apart except for dinner which was at 6pm on the dot. A good schedule helped you and Mithrun look after yourselves, but you hadn't quite yet accounted for trimming his hair.

It had gotten longer than you had thought before you remembered to check the length of his hair, playing with the silver locks that framed his face and moved to cover his false eye a little. With a slight curl at the ends and parted just along the side, it was an easy style to maintain, especially for someone so consistently fatigued. So, when it came time to trim it down, an afternoon was allocated and Mithrun was given a book to entertain him while you worked.

On the floor, resting on a pillow was the middle-aged elf who you were looking after. Tilting his head forward a little, you brushed through those light-coloured locks and parted them into smaller sections before taking them between your middle and pointer finger, working to even it out and take a little length off. This process was repeated for each section of hair, fingers lightly brushing his face at one point which caused a little startled jump to come from Mithrun, looking at you with his good eye almost inquisitively. In the end, though, you finished off trimming it all quite quickly, evening it all out and even taking some longer strands from the front and braiding them like he'd done when he was much younger...before the dungeon.

Even if it was hard to see, a little smile played on his lips as he embraced your touches, leaning back after you proudly announced you were done. His face squished into your thigh, a little bump of his against you like a cat trying to get their owner's attention. Taking advantage of your curiosity at this action, your hand was brought to his face and he snuggled into it slightly, enjoying the reaction it spurred from you. He may not desire much, but he knows how to love you.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Any ideas on the Bad Boys reactions to MC dressing up for a date?

Horror isn't one for dressing up. He feels like putting nice clothes on him is like putting lipstick on a pig. But... he likes when you dress up. He really really likes it; he hovers near you, breathing heavily and intently staring at every detail. You're eye candy to him, and when you dress up you look even more sweet, colours and smells that make him the good kind of dizzy. He could stare for hours. He does stare for hours. He's fighting the urge to bite you - he's also fighting the urge to attack anyone who looks at you too long. This is HIS pretty little human, anyone who gawks is losing their eyes.

Dust is normally such a tough nut to crack reaction-wise. It's always hard to tell what he thinks of things. His reactions are entirely internal, as minute as minute can get; unless you're like Nightmare and can literally read his emotions, it's very hard to know what's going on in his head. That being said. When he sees that you dressed up for a date with him? He blushes very hard. He looks away, flustered, pulling his hood down over his face - for a moment there's a break in the seemingly endless clouds of his mood, and the sky is visible.

Although he acts like he's embarrassed, he really likes when you tease him about blushing. He doesn't always enjoy being so blank, so hard to read it drives away people he deeply cares for. It makes him feel better when you get little victories like that, moments where you 'broke' him; little reminders of how much he really loves you.

Killer, as mentioned in a previous ask, would delight in a partner who dresses up. He has a lot of fun putting together fashionable (slutty) outfits, and if you have something very nice for a date, he's absolutely going to coordinate with you. It's the perfect way to tell the world that you're together. Who needs bite marks? Give him a colour palette, some simple accessories, and half an hour. Everyone will see who you belong to.

Nightmare would love it. He might not say it aloud, but you'll see it in the way his eyelight rakes up and down your body and his voice gets significantly silkier. He sees you dressing up for a date as a high compliment; you thought about your date with him so much you decided to put in that extra effort. He doesn't get many gifts - all this is for him? You shouldn't have...

You'd expect him to want his partner to dress similarly to him. Though he does take great pleasure in you matching his refined tastes, he also just likes seeing you wear things that make you happy. Of course his beloved consort should wear whatever they please. You're his, and that makes you royalty. Royalty do what they like.

[nerinefy]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A LIFE WITH HIM ; FT. some OVERBLOT BOYS .𖥔 ݁ ˖

★ synopsis: how will they be like as your partner?

★ details: you/yours | headcanon | too much fluff | 1,000+ words

✦ ┊RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

PHYSICAL AFFECTION (GIVING & RECEIVING)

★ not too big on PDA, so expect that the most skin-to-skin contact you two can have outside is the occasional hand-holding. he likes it when he's the one initiating the gesture whenever you two are out and about since he still can't help but have the need to be in control even after his overblot (like leading you to places and making sure ur still by his side).

★ he doesn't admit it but he loves when you link your arm with his and nuzzle your face into his shoulder (although he will still scold you if you do it) ESPECIALLY when he's in a mood and is almost about to off the heads of some rule-breakers OR maybe when you're giving too much attention to a rando because he may not admit it but he's greedy and wants your eyes on him only (but he's a gentleman and will never speak about it, only dismissing his inappropriate thoughts.)

★ in private though he's just a snuggly little cuddle bug, even more so if he's tired or stressed or most likely both. so many responsibilities are piled up on his plate just in his second year so the only thing that keeps his shit together is your warm and loving embrace. HE'S A SMALL SPOON. NO BACKSIES, okay maybe he's a big spoon if you're the one who needs a little more loving.

GIFT-GIVING

★ i mean from the name itself ROSEHEARTS, roses are his go-to (he's corny but we love him like that), but if you have a different favorite flower then he'll get those, and if you're allergic he'll try to make those handmade ones! although a little sloppy, pretty successful for his first try. overall he likes giving the traditional gifts like bouquets, stuffed animals, and chocolates :) but if he gets to know you more it might be more personal and intimate stuff that fits your tastes, and of course, should be of use to you too.

THE SIMPLE THINGS

★ whenever you're stuck on a study session late at night he likes inviting you to take a break and brew some tea for you. he'll even share some sweets that Trey gave him. although he won't leave you alone after he finds you like that, instead he pulls out some reviewers he has and helps you work on whatever you find difficult to understand.

WORD AFFIRMATIONS

★ "Our race is nowhere near finished, so please my rose, stay strong, I know you can and want to do so. I am always by your side okay?"

✦ ┊LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

PHYSICAL AFFECTION (GIVING & RECEIVING)

★ hugs, hugs, and MORE HUGS. just lots of hugs! doesn't matter if he's a big spoon or small spoon, he needs you by his side 24/7, 365. he just has to have his scent all over you u know, half-breed things. this man is just lazing around anywhere so might as well bring his favorite pillow with him. and no, he doesn't care if you have class and need to take a test worth half your grade, he needs you more! ★ of course, he doesn't have long-ass hair for nothing, go be his peasant and brush it, most preferably with your fingers if he's having a good hair day. your soft fingers massaging his scalp are quite literally going to take him to heaven, and he'll have no regrets tho so go pocket something if that happens. ★ he doesn't pick favorites when it comes to giving and receiving physical affection, he just wants his hands all over you and if the job is done then he's good.

GIFT-GIVING

★ honestly man, i don't know with him. he's raised right so of course he gives you stuff like flowers and so on. on the other hand tho he isn't the type to know what you like and will most likely just ask you what you want him to give you. maybe he'll just take you to go fetch them at the store itself if he isn't sure. but on special days like your birthday or your anniversary (assuming ya'll would last more than a week), he actually tries and it's pretty sweet and more elaborate.

THE SIMPLE THINGS

★ whenever he's forcibly on a call with his brother, which surprisingly is turning into a regular thing, if Farena asks about how he's doing, Leona likely ends up only yapping about you. i mean yeah he missed his last test and he spent his allowance for the month in a week but does Farena know about the time you were mumbling Leona's name in your sleep? he will deny it if he's called out for doing so. NO, HE DID NOT PERIOD. *hangs up*

WORD AFFIRMATIONS

★ "Whatever you're thinking of, don't. It's stupid. As much as I don't like admitting this, you're strong, and even more than most beastmen if you set your mind to your goals."

✦ ┊AZUL ASHENGROTTO

PHYSICAL AFFECTION (GIVING & RECEIVING)

★ man's busy all the time so it's hard to get your hands on him. even if he's not busy, he will sprint for his life just to get away from you. not that he dislikes your affection, the concept is just a little foreign to him. give him time to adjust, then you'll find out how soft his tentacles are! ★ when he's actually busy and working on stuff in his office (when the time comes and he's comfortable) he likes it when you flop yourself on his lap and nuzzle into his chest. he feels guilty that he can't give full focus to you since his schedule truly is packed but you inviting yourself into his office at late hours of the day just to snuggle comforts and assures him in some way. he'll definitely find more time for you, he's trying his best lol! ★ overall he isn't one to initiate the touching even if he's fully vulnerable for you. idk too ask him about it. he's just happy you like him enough that you cling unto him. but if you ask him he may favor hand-holding the most, it may be the least contact but feeling your hand on his is enough for him.

GIFT-GIVING

★ HE KNOWS EVERYTHING. i'm not even kidding, even when it's no special day he'd likely buy stuff just because it reminded him of you or when you coincidentally need it which is pretty cute but can be a little creepy.

THE SIMPLE THINGS

★ i saw a fic back then that said he gives you some coupons and by some i mean a TON in hopes that you visit the Lounge and that is absolutely true. though he forgets you two are together and he can ask you nicely to come over but who can say no to 30% off all menu items?

WORD AFFIRMATIONS

★ "My, how could I ever deny what that cute head of yours and those strong arms of yours can do! You are a valuable asset to me...what kind of asset? Well...it's up to you to decide."

✦ ┊JAMIL VIPER

PHYSICAL AFFECTION (GIVING & RECIEVING)

★ he's also busy, honestly might be one of the, or if not the busiest of all of these guys. when you two have time to be together tho, even if he's knocked out and drained, he'll never show it. but i can say that's only during the early stages of your relationship with him and depending on how you two met. he likes to present himself in his best state and he really can't do so with his schedule so eventually he just melts and the next thing you know he's hugging you from the back any chance he gets and you feel his heartbeat turn slower by the minute. ★ for those moments that he sees you out and about though he likes patting your cute lil head, no matter what your height is. though he is trying to be a little adventurous with you so he leans in to caress your hair gently and suddenly you're met with a quick smooch. (only when there's no one else in sight so yeah adventurous my ass) ★ like leona, he loves it when you play with his hair, and he does not like to admit it. just remember to keep it neat and use a brush while you're at it, plus a facial and maybe a massage because i know those muscles are TIGHT.

GIFT-GIVING

★ his gifts reek of HANDMADE. idk he has those vibes. handmade flowers, or some origami of cute animals, but he likes giving you handwritten letters the most. it can be hard to communicate his real feelings to you so writing is a way for him to freely and easily express those feelings.

THE SIMPLE THINGS

★ whenever he cooks for Kalim or just whenever he cooks, he suddenly has some leftovers that he decided he'd pack up for you. can't bring himself up to say that excuse so he just gives it to you and walks away.

WORD AFFIRMATIONS

★ "Whining is useless. Do the things you're good at, stop worrying about the things you can't. Oh, I'm sorry...did that come off too harsh?"

★ author's note: congratulate me for coming back. BASK IN MY GLORIOUS PRESCENCE. (i missed u guys too ig)

©nerinefy 2023-2024 all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate.

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

LOML BABY CUTIE PIE SNOOKUMS 💕🦋

SO THAT YOUR SEXY LIL BRAIN DOESN'T FORGET :

The lover boys ( Percy, Leo, Jason, Conner, Luke , Frank) overhearing reader talking about them and afterwards realising that reader is THE ONE for them

Mhuaw Mhuaw 💋

⋆⭒˚.⋆ can't have a conversation if it's not all about you! hcs

content: hcs for leo valdez, frank zhang, luke castellan, percy jackson & jason grace warning: some language but that's it!! author's note: ta daaaaa! i like doing matching stories to one's ive already written!! and love love love how these match the other group hcs i did, probs gonna put it as a part two on the masterlist even tho i kinda isn't, ya know??? whatever it's my blog lmao-

𝜗𝜚 leo valdez

leo had no shame

originally, he had no intentions of eavesdropping

but then he heard you talking as he passed by the window of your cabin and couldn't help but stand nearby

and, boy, was he glad that he did

his smile was a mile wide as he heard you talk so passionately about him

that's right, you've been yapping away about leo for at least an hour

"and you should see the way he looks at me when he makes me laugh. it's just- it's just this wide smile and he can't seem to take his eyes off me."

leo blushed slightly at that comment, completely unaware that you had caught onto that look, the one he only reserved for you

"and he's the sweetest, always looking out for me. oh! and the gifts are never ending and he's the best cuddler i've like ever met. and, so, so funny."

leo was certain he was short circuiting, the wires of his heart fraying and twisting in unnatural ways. in ways that would make his mechanic father disappointed

"you must really love him," one of your siblings mused and leo waited with baited breath, leaning slightly closer to the window to hear you better

"more than i could put into words. i'm...i'm lucky the fates gave him to me - more than lucky."

that was the day leo started working on your engagement ring, determined to never spend another day without you by his side

𝜗𝜚 frank zhang

frank was a good boy, be it either his roman bones or his canadian heritage, he made sure to always follow rules and respect peoples privacy

...except for today

he allowed himself this exception as he stood in one of the many hallways new rome had to offer, leaning against the wall as he heard your voice drift through the corridor

you couldn't have been more than a few yards away, your voice easily carrying to frank's ears

"he gives the best hugs!"

"bear hugs?" your friend laughed and frank's lips twitched upwards at the comment

"shut up! he's sweet, too! so, so sweet! and gentle. for a son of mars, he holds me so softly."

frank stood a little taller at the comments, pride filling his body in a way it never had before

sure, lots of people have told him similar things, but something about it coming from you left the boy reeling with pride

"cmon, be honest. is he, ya know, the one?" your friend whispered but frank still heard it

he paled at the connotation, his fingers crossed as he counted the seconds in between your response.

"honestly? he's the other half of my soul. we're tied together and he's not getting rid of me anytime soon."

that afternoon, frank signed up for a wedding magazine subscription, wanting to keep up to date on the wedding scene, as he figured it would become very important to him and you in the near future

𝜗𝜚 luke castellan

luke had taken a break from practice with his sword, laying on the ground all sweaty and grimy

his water bottle had long since been emptied but he was far too tired to get up and refill it

after a few minutes of rest, he'd finally decided the water would be worth the pain of his taunt muscles

as he made his way to the water fountain, he paused as his eyes caught sight of you and a wood nymph talking

he smirked to himself, moving closer with the full intentions of stealing a kiss but he paused as your words started to reach his ears

he then hid behind a tree, only peeking out every now and then when he knew you weren't looking

"gods, i've never met a guy so romantic. did i tell you that he stole all of my favorite bags of chips from the camp store? and you wanna know why? mind you, this is a direct quote, he said 'because no one but my girl deserves these chips to grace her lips.' like...bro."

the wood nymph cooed, the flowers in her hair brightening in color at the romantic thoughts

in fact, the red tulips were matching the shade of luke's cheeks pretty well

and that's quite the feat as the boy wasn't a big blusher

"and watching him train will always leave me drooling. you hear that olivia rodrigo leaked song, prison for life?? like, that's literally him!! he's so protective but in a good way, ya know??"

luke shook his head despite knowing the fact you couldn't see him

you've brought that song up so many times since you heard it, telling luke that it always reminded you of him

and luke would never admit it, but he listened to the song on his own time

and he couldn't help but agree with you

he'd kill for you and you didn't even need to ask him to

he'd just do it because you were worth any consequence he'd face after

"so, you love him?" the wood nymph questioned eagerly

and luke was just as eager to hear the answer

"...i'd kill for him, too. i'd do anything to keep him close, hurt anyone. hell, i'd tear down olympus for that boy."

and that you would, eventually.

all with a shiny ring on your finger, put there by the boy who'd lost his way

and you were more than happy to get lost with him, too, as long as it meant his hand in yours

𝜗𝜚 percy jackson

percy knew better than to listen to rumors

especially from sea flora and fauna

but, when the shark swam up to him with naiads in tow, percy couldn't help but listen

"lord! lord! you'll never believe what we just heard!" the shark cried, swimming circles around percy in his excitement

"go on," percy encouraged, briefly passing his hand over the shark's fin before the shark was mentally gasping in a big breath to do a long ramble

"okay okay okay! so, your lady in waiting had been talking with a few of the river naiads up stream. and she was talking about you, my lord!"

percy was silently waiting for the new information to come

he was well aware of the fact that you struggled to have conversations that didn't revolve around him

and he would know as he struggled with a similar issue when it came to you

"and she was talking about your hair and your eyes and your smile! oh, and she also mentioned that she thought you were the funniest boy she'd ever met, my lord! then she was talking about how good you looked in some shirt the other day-"

"wait, wait, which shirt??? did she say, like, a color or something??" percy cut in, leaning forwards as this information was important to him

"umm, i think she said navy blue?"

"yes! alright, go on," percy cheered, making a mental note to wear that shirt more

anything to keep her eyes on him

not that he had to try super hard but still

"and she talked about rings! ones made of diamonds or something!! oh, and your mother being at some ceremony and something about father's giving away their daughters?? and white dresses. does she like white dresses? the story get's a little confusing here, i'll admit, my lord."

percy could have drown right then and there from excitement

you were talking about weddings while talking about percy

he took that as a good sign

and he'd go home later that summer and shyly ask his mother to walk him through the process of getting married

for, uh, unrelated reasons, of course

𝜗𝜚 jason grace

jason was a nervous fella, not one to eavesdrop or listen to conversations that didn't involve him

nonetheless, he couldn't seem to pull himself from the cracked doorway

every alarm was ringing in his roman mind, telling him that it was wrong and that he shouldn't be listening in on your conversation

but you were saying such lovely things!

"he treats me like im gold, like im something to be valued and taken care of. gods, he's so good to me."

it was like a little benchmark report on how he was as a boyfriend

and you know this guy loves reports and numbers and spreadsheets lmao

pros and cons list's best friend

but at the moment, you were struggling to list even a single con

"and he's such a gentleman. i don't think i've touched a door handle the whole time that we've been dating. or opened my car door, let alone drove."

jason smirked, pride oozing from him at the comments

he worked hard to make sure that you never saw another cloudy day in your life and he couldn't help but be a little proud that you took notice of those things

"what would you do if he asked you to marry him right now?" your sibling asked, with a wiggle of their eyebrows and a taunt in their voice

jason's muscles tightened at the comment and they jolted to run off, but his need to know kept him right where he was

"i'd say yes without a second of hesitation. i'm sure we've been married in past lives and we will be in future ones. so why delay the inevitable?"

jason was shocked, a rare feeling for the son of jupiter

but, once he recovered, he went running to piper, desperately asking her what the best way to find out your ring size would be

and not for just any finger, if you know what i mean.

[sugoi-writes]

I feel like Alastor would never walk in while you're indecent/in disarray physically... he knows how to knock, afterall... BUT--

I can see Alastor playing things off well enough. He's a gentleman, so he avoids eye contact. You feel his coat drapping over your shoulders as he rambles about something.

An incoming meeting, the next group activity, or simply what he had for breakfast that day. Mundane things that can absolutely wait... but he's such a Chatty Cathy! If Rosie isn't around or too busy, then you simply MUST hear him out about his struggles. Your clothing be damned, it's simply TOO important.

Much like with Charlie, he sits or lays directly across your bed, like a tween girl at a sleep over, his feet kicking in the air. He's relaxed. His eyes are half lidded. Your room may as well be his second bedroom. He doesn't mind making himself at home even while you're frantically trying to cover yourself or throwing things his way.

A classic case of "Hello dear, I was meaning to ask you about-- yes, I'm aware that you're undressed, why are you screaming? *covers you in his jacket* AHEM. Anyway--"

---

However, if you're closer than friends...

Alastor lets himself in, unprompted. Usually via shadow. Unlike before, eye contact is intentionally made, lest you get the idea his eyes are wondering. And if you relax enough, you may actually catch them doing so. He'd help himself to your closet, picking something out for you to wear.

"Oh Heavens, no, you are not going out like that! Here, why don't you try this instead? Red is positively RADIANT on you!"

Alastor would tut and force you to do little poses and spins, shifting you through multiple outfits until he's satisfied. But, of course, if you put your foot down, he won't stop you. That just means that tearing it OFF of you will be much more satisfying.

Alastor will, more than likely, forget why he entered in the first place. Or, better yet, he may not even have a reason to! He just wants to be near you, or he wants to kill time before he has to be productive. You are his one and only source of rest and relaxation. You help his brain disconnect with the world, and help him let his hair down (metaphorically).

Though Rosie and others are more than capable of helping him pass the time, he'd like to spend it with you, especially if your own time is limited. And, if you have no where to be... he may just find a way for you to keep your clothes off a little longer.

Don't mind him if there's a lingering touch here, or if your laces are tied a little too loose... he can't help himself. He'd much rather see you with nothing at all. For your sake, you better hope he isn't feeling too frisky... Because once something comes off by his hands... it make be hard or straight up impossible to be worn again.

[hiddenonyx]

Obey Me! Characters Walking in on MC Showering

Notes: fem MC!, suggestive content, nudity

Word count: 3.4K - about 290 per character

A/N: You'll probably be able to tell, but this was written over the course of like...3 months? So it's a little disjointed and you can most certainly tell who I was more inspired for. Thank to Pen for giving me ideas for Simeon and Solomon. -------------

After a little planning mishap, you end up sharing a hotel room (and bed) with them. It’s a little awkward, but you’re too tired to truly care. Right now, you really just want a shower. Any other thoughts be damned.

—

"Yeah, yeah, I'm not gonna take forever, calm down," you answer back to your temporary roommate. "It's just a shower to refresh a little."

You shift your half folded clothes in your arms so you can close the bathroom door.  You don't bother to lock it - after all they'll have to know that you're still in the bathroom if you're not out in the room, right? You set your clothes on the oversized countertop, before going over to the shower. It's a simple rectangle shower with a glass door, but isn't so horrible small that you're crowding yourself inside of it. After a few minutes of trying to figure out how to even turn the damn thing on, you get the water running and turn away to strip as the water warms up. But before you step in, you grab your phone and set the all important music. You turn it up so it's just loud enough to contend with the noise of the shower, set it on the counter nearby and step in. A sigh escapes you as the warm water sprays on your skin. Maybe you'll take a little longer than you said...

—

Lucifer

     He watches you disappear into the bathroom, not believing you when you told him it'll be a "quick" shower (40 minutes is not quick, MC). He goes back to reading through the tourist pamphlet for a factory, allowing the soft noise of the shower and distant music lull him into a feeling of soft relaxation. It's not until nearly an hour later that he realizes that you're still in the shower. Mild concern paints his face as he stands up and makes his way over to the closed bathroom door. The sound of your music is a little louder now and he can hear you humming along.

    "MC?" he asks softly, gently tapping his knuckles against the door. He repeats the actions a little louder when you don't answer. When you still don't answer, Lucifer hesitates, before giving a resigned sigh and opening the door. 

     His question of if you're alright dies on his tongue as he's greeted with the image of your perfect naked body partially obscured by condensation on the glass door. Your back is towards him as you hum along to a song, hands busy washing your hair, completely unaware that Lucifer's walked in on you. He's frozen to the spot for a few moments, his mind screaming at him to close the door and walk away like nothing's happened, but his body simply won't respond. He's stuck staring at your gorgeous form for what seems like an eternity.

    Then you start to turn around. Lucifer's body suddenly wakes up and he damn near slams the door off its hinges as he hurries to close it. You startle and call after him, confused and so blissfully unaware, "Lucifer? Was that you? Is something wrong?"

—

Mammon

     He grumbles as he watches you disappear into the bathroom. He knows that you'll take forever, and there's nothing to do in this tiny shoe box-excuse of a room. He pouts a little more - how dare you leave the Great Mammon bored?! When he hears the shower start and the music kick up, he knows you're not going to come back right away (a small part of him hoped that you would forget something and have to come back out so that he could see you again). 

    Mammon looks around the room, eyes falling on your open bag. His eyes dart back to the closed door before he shrugs and starts to go through it. He's mildly interested by all the little knick-knacks and souvenirs that you've kept  from him and his brothers. He's just about to go through your wallet when a loud "thud" followed by your muffled cursing startles him. He bolts up from your stuff and looks to the bathroom, a guilty look painted on his face. But the door remains closed. Confused and a little concerned, Mammon approaches. 

    "MC? W-what was that?" he calls, but unbeknown to him, you can't hear him over the shower and your music. He pauses at the door and strains his ears to try and hear a response. When none comes, he starts to get nervous. Did you fall? Is that what the loud noise was? Are you injured?

    More than a little panicked, Mammon hurriedly opens the door, "MC-!" His voice dies on his tongue as you lock eyes. You're putting some kind of product on your hand (presumably to spread somewhere else), and fully naked. The condensation on the glass does a poor job of censoring your breasts and the curves of your waist. You look at him, surprised and confused, and perhaps a little embarrassed - he however, is bright red and stuck staring. It isn't until you start to say something that Mammon lets out a pathetic yelp and slams the door closed.

—

Levi

    Levi gives you a disbelieving look at your “I’ll be quick” claim, but shrugs it off; after all he has to do some daily tasks in “Ruri-Chan Flowers vs. Devils: Dance Dance Battle!”. He hears you start your shower just as the game loads. He cracks his knuckles before curling into his best gamer posture.

     Levi glances at the time as he closes the app - almost 2 hours later. He winces; he hadn’t intended to spend longer than 30 minutes doing his tasks, but a new event had started and he just had to get the ice queen skin for Ruri-Chan (it looks so elegant on her!). He listens for a second and doesn’t hear the shower running anymore. He looks around for you in the room (perhaps you entered the room when he was in the “zone” and didn’t notice), and is confused when he doesn’t see you. Curiously, he makes his way to the bathroom door and listens again: silence.

    “M-MC?” Levi asks nervously. When you don’t answer he opens the door tentatively. He’s greeted with the lovely embarrassing view of you mid change; wearing only your underwear.  He’s frozen to the spot, staring at how your bra barely contains your breasts, at how your panties accent and clings to your natural curves. 

     “L-Levi?” You ask, slightly embarrassed by his staring. His face is so red you’re worried he’ll pass out. After a few more seconds his brain seems to catch up and he covers his face and practically runs back to the bed, screaming apologies.

—

Satan

     He gives you a hum of acknowledgement at your announcement and turns the page of his new book. He hears the bathroom door click closed. He lets out a soft sigh of relaxation before settling fully in the chair. He knows that he'll have plenty of time to read in peace and quiet while you shower.

     Satan is fully immersed in his book when you call his name from the bathroom. He startles and almost bends the page. He looks over at the door, answering you back, "Yes?"

   "I forgot my pajamas on my bed. Could you bring them here, please?" Your voice is timid and embarrassed. He sighs softly - you make him do things that he wouldn't do for anyone else.

    "Yes. Just a second." He gently (and carefully) sets his book down on the table before standing up and going over to your bed. Your cute sleeping clothes are folded nicely in a single space (which he appreciates the neatness of). He picks them up just as gently as he had put his book down before walking over to the bathroom.

    He raps his knuckle gently against the door and waits for your answer. He doesn't hear the music or the water running, so he tries again slightly louder. When you fail to answer again, he gently opens the door and steps inside. 

    He's greeted with the view of you wrapped in a towel that just barely covers the important parts. Your breasts are nearly spilling over the top of the white towel (how the towel even remains wrapped around in the first place is a wonder). And the towel just barely covers the upper most part of your thighs. You scroll absently on your phone while you wait, unaware of Satan's presence. He stares for a few seconds, struggling to collect himself (how dare you be this nonchalant), before he softly clears his throat.

    You look over and give him an apologetic smile before reaching out to take the offered clothes. Satan closes the door and does his best to muffle the sigh he lets out. This is going to be a long trip.

—

Asmodeus

    He really wants to ask you if he can join you, but he figures that if you wanted him to join you, you would've extended an invitation. Perhaps you simply need a little bit to sort through your thoughts and memories of the day (which he understands - he does that too). Instead, he busies himself doing his skincare routine out in front of his travel mirror. It's far from the best, but it'll do for the night.

    Asmo hums idly to your muffled playlist, enjoying the odd domestic tone of the night. The situation is odd, with having to share a bed, he muses, but at least he can fall asleep right next to your cute self. It isn't until he's about to complete his last step in his extensive routine that he notices that your music has stopped. When did it stop? How long has the room been silent? Asmo strains his ears, but can't hear any other sounds.

    "Little dove? Are you done?" he calls softly. When you don't answer him, he gets up, and goes over to the bathroom door. He knocks, calling again, "Dove?"

    "Huh? Oh yeah, I'm done....hey, umm...could you help me? T-there's this knot in my hair."

    Asmo smiles softly before opening the door. He pays little mind to the fact that you've somehow managed to wrap and tie the hotel towel around your body (maybe you used a little magic), and instead focus on this knot of wet hair you're struggling to untangle. He gently takes the brush from you, his fingers ever so softly grazing your's, and gently pulls it from your hair. He hums as he begins to gently brush your hair out.

—

Beelzebub

    He nods in acknowledgement before popping another piece of candy in his mouth. It's some human world candy; some of the pieces are sweet and some of them are tart, and Beel never quite knows which kind he'll get. He sits on the bed, simply enjoying the snack and thinking - thinking about the day you've spent together.

    He's content for the time, but a loud "bampoof" followed by language Beel's only ever heard come from an angry Levi makes him pause mid chew. He swallows hard before rising from the bed.

    "MC? Are you okay?" His voice is soft but urgent. He rests his hand on the door, listening. He can still hear the water running, your music playing and...your mumbled curses. He breathes a sigh of relief; at least you're not unconscious. But still...

    He opens the door gently, eyes cast to the tiled floor trying to respect your privacy. "MC? A-are you okay? What happened?"

    You huff and rise to your feet, grabbing the offending soap bar that had slipped from your grip and caused you to fall after it. "Yeah, I'm fine...more or less. Hit my head slightly, " you mumble before looking over at Beel. His face, even staring at the title, is dusted pink. You can't help but smile and giggle. He blushes harder, before glancing at you.

    "Yeah, Beel, I'm fine. I'll be out in a few, okay?" you give him your biggest, most convincing smile. He nods, his face even redder now, before closing the door.

—

Belphegor

    He makes a half-assed noise to acknowledge you before covering his eyes with his arm. As long as he wakes up next to you, he doesn't really care how long you take. As he drifts off, he hears your music start playing. Despite the peppy-upbeatness it lulls him to sleep all the same.

     Belphie has no idea how much time has passed when he wakes up, but he does know that you're not in bed with him. Grumbling, he practically slides himself out of bed and stumbles to the bathroom door. He grumbles, some sort of half asleep noise, before unceremoniously opening the door.

     "Belphie!" You squeak, scrambling to wrap yourself in a towel, smearing lotion on the white cloth. He sleepily sways towards you - too asleep to notice your state of undress. He wraps his arms around you and sleepily nuzzles your neck, mumbling something about you being late. You're frozen to place, one hand gently touching on Belphie's shoulder. 

    "Belphie." you say again, holding your breath. He makes a noise of some kind but continues to lean into you. You both stand there for a few minutes before Belphie raises his face to look at you. His eyes seem a little clear and he gives you a questioning look, "What? You weren't in bed," he pouts. 

    "Belphie...I'm naked."

    He stares at you and blinks dumbly for a second before his sleepy brain catches up. His face turns red and he bites his lip. Reluctantly he pulls away and looks at the floor.

    "S-sorry. I-I'll go." You giggle and smile, "It's okay. I'll be out in a few more minutes okay? And then I'll give you all the cuddles you want."

—

Diavolo

     He watches you disappear into the bathroom with a soft hum and smile. He turns his attention to the small smattering of various important documents that need his attention and signature (even on "vacation" the poor prince can never seem to escape his work). He sighs and silently debates if Barbatos's lecture would be worth ignoring his work for the time being. Diavolo glances back at the bathroom door before picking up his pen - it's not like he had anything else to do while he waited.

    He's almost finished with his paperwork - actively in the process of signing the last document - when he's startled by a unusually loud "FUCK" from the bathroom. Diavolo spares only a half a second to frown in annoyance at the smeared lettering before setting the pen down and getting up.

    "MC? Are you-?" he starts as he approaches the door. He strains his ears to listen, hearing movement from inside and more importantly your grumbles of irritation. "MC?" he calls again, waiting by the shut door, concern worming its way into his expression. You don't answer, but he can still hear you moving.

     Carefully he turns the door handle and slowly opens the door just enough so that he can look in and see what's happened.  He sucks in a soft breath. You're completely naked, fiddling with a band-aid, a small stream of blood running down your leg. You must've nicked yourself while shaving, and as his eyes trace the blood, it looks to be around your knee (an annoying and troublesome area if one's not careful, or so he's been told). His eyes continue to travel past the nick to rake over the rest of your nude form. 

    And Diavolo has to bite his lip to stop himself from letting out a hot and noisy breath. You're gorgeous, absolutely stunning, drop dead beautiful - he could on. Every part of you is simply perfect. His trance of admiration is broken when you move again, having finished applying the band-aid. Carefully, and quietly, he closes the door letting out the breath he was holding. There's no way either of you are sleeping tonight.

—

Barbatos

    He gives a little hum to acknowledge you, but says nothing. It's a bit odd to see Barbatos of all people casually reclining in a chair with a book, but it's kinda cute (and an odd weight off your shoulders that the man does actually know how to relax).  You turn and make your way to the bathroom, gently closing the door behind you.

    Barbatos lets his eyes follow you as you walk to the bathroom, watching you go. His eyes narrow slightly - he expected your arms to be fuller...were you forgetting something? He glances over to your bed to find that you had forgotten to bring your sleepwear. He smiles softly, how cute of you.

    Barbatos sets his book down before getting up and carefully collects your clothes to bring to you. He knocks gently on the door and then opens it. It's a force of habit really, he truly didn't mean to intrude and walk in on you half naked.

     You hold each other's gaze for several long seconds, your hands behind your back holding the clasps of your bra. He simply stands in the entrance of the room, one hand holding your sleepwear, the other on the door knob. 

    He clears his throat softly, "You forgot these." Barbatos sets your clothes on the counter before quietly excusing himself.

—

Simeon

    He smiles as he watches you disappear into the bathroom. His smile dips into a slight frown when he realizes that he's not sure what to do now that you're busy. Should he read? His eyes dart to his bag. Or maybe he should work on his manuscript - he had been hoping to be able to work on it at some point during this trip and now seemed as good of a time as any, right?

     After almost twenty minutes of struggling to do anything writing related Simeon decides that it would be best to call it a night. He carefully put his manuscript away and makes his way over to the bed. He picked up the top item of clothing that he had set out for himself earlier, only to realize that it wasn't his - it was your's. He glances back towards the bathroom and then the shirt he had unfolded. You must've grabbed the wrong set of sleepwear by accident.

     Ever the gentleman, Simeon refoldes the shirt and picks up the stack of clothing, making his way to the bathroom. Even through the door, he can hear you softly singing along. He doubts that you can hear him, but he still knocks anyways, and isn't surprised when you don't answer.

    Gently he opens the door, his gaze downwards. He peeks up, looking at the counter to see where you had set down the clothes you took. He groans internally when he sees that they're almost right at the farthest end; he had hoped to just be able to quickly swap them out and not disturb you. 

    He sighs and steps in, "Um, excuse me, (MC). I don't mean to bother you, but it seems you accidentally grabbed my clothes instead of your's."  You look over to him, gently jolted out of your thoughts. You can't help but smile at Simeon; he keeps his gaze down and is quick with the exchange.

    "Oh, I'm sorry."

     "It's alright. Enjoy the rest of your shower," and with that, he gracefully leaves, his ears a soft pink.

—

Solomon

     He smiles and laughs a little to himself as he watches you leave towards the bathroom. He waits till he hears the door close before returning his attention to the small set up of magical equipment and knick-knacks. As he starts to tinker, he hears the soft noise of the shower and your music. He hums along softly as he works.

    Almost half an hour later Solomon sets down his tools and stretches in the chair before getting up. He makes his way to the bathroom, lost in thought about his recent project. It was being difficult and not quite working how he wanted it to.

    ...maybe a shower would help clear his thoughts. 

   He opens the door to the bath and casual walks in, pushing the door closed with his foot. He grabs his belt to start undoing it when a voice calls his name.

     "Solomon?! What are you doing?!"

     He looks up and over to the shower, to see you. Already naked, in the shower, and in the middle of washing your hair. He tries to hold your gaze, but his eyes falter and flicker down to the rest of your form for a second. He had forgotten you were in here.

    He laughs, thoroughly embarrassed for the first time in a while and brings his hands up to rub at his shoulder in an apologetic gesture, "S-Sorry, sorry. I...I uh...forgot you were in here..."

    "Where else would I be?! Now get out! Shoo!"

     Solomon doesn't need to be told twice.

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 17]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

Words: 4.3k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

“No.” 

Minnie plants her little feet firmly on the sidewalk and pulls her hands out of your and Matt’s grips so she can make her point by crossing her arms over her chest. A pout starts forming on her face and you have the feeling this is as far as your daughter will be going.

Across the street looms Clinton Church and you can understand why your daughter does not want to go anywhere near it. The building is as imposing as it is grand with its traditional architecture half shadowed in the morning sun. There is light reflecting off the many windows, casting little glares that you are sure Minnie can interpret in multiple ways - including eyes looking down at her. 

Try as you might, you can’t imagine what else your little one must be picking up from the building. Is there someone praying inside? Or chanting? What sort of terrifying noises is the building making? How many rats are scurrying around the grounds, hissing and eeking and becoming unseen monsters? 

How many real monsters are there? 

Right now, the only monster you know of is the one in your chest named Anxiety. It is roaring inside you and causing all sorts of ruckus. 

You know Minnie can pick up on your upset, and it is probably influencing her, but no amount of breathing exercises or chamomile tea is going to relax you. 

Meeting someone’s parents is always going to be nerve wracking under any circumstance - but meeting the mother of the man who fathered your child? Who already has a unique and slightly estranged relationship with her son?

Frankly, you’d rather give birth again. 

To make matters worse for your over analyzing, Matt's mother is a nun. 

You have never interacted with a nun before, and your mind has been nonstop screaming that you are going to make an absolute fool of yourself. You are convinced you are going to say something dumb - like Jesus is stupid or some other blasphemous thing. 

You don't even know what counts as blasphemy, but you know your mouth will find a way to make you want to sink into the floor and disappear forever.

You are on the same page as Minnie and don't want to take another step toward the Church. 

“No?” Matt questions, tilting his head down towards his daughter. He looks a bit baffled, like he can’t understand why she’s taken such a stance. You know he is nervous about the meeting as well, having told you such earlier, but you don’t think he realizes how much his nerves, on top of your own, are affecting Mouse and her fear of the new big building.

“No.” Your daughter repeats, giving a tiny stomp of one foot to emphasize her point. 

“No, what, sweetheart?” He kneels down to be on the same level as her, but you have a feeling that isn't going to help much. Minnie has made her decision and trying to sway a determined, upset toddler is a near impossible task.

“I don't wanna,” she tells him, her voice starting to get whiny. She turns away from him to press herself into your leg, her pout growing even bigger.

Matt knits his brows together, confusion clear, “You don't want to go to the park?”

Technically, you are supposed to meet Matt's mother in the Church park that is between the main building and the orphanage but as far as you are concerned, all of the grounds are Church. Apparently, your daughter feels the same. 

“No. I don't wanna,” she declares, which quickly turns into the chant of, “I don't wanna, I don't wanna, I don't wanna!”

You can feel the tantrum coming and intervene, scooping Minnie up and hugging her to you. She instantly clings to you, burying her face against your neck with an additional almost screech of, “I don't wanna!”

You start to gently rock her from side to side and rub at her back to try and soothe her. You kiss her hair and promise, “We don’t have to go, baby. It is okay.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel like a grade A asshole. 

Matt’s face crumbles into heartbreak and you totally deserve to walk into traffic. He had opened up to you about his mother - about how she had left him as a baby only to end up raising him after his father had been killed - but not telling him who she was. He told you how he only recently learned the truth - less than a year ago - and how hard it was for him. 

But now he had you and Minnie and maybe, just maybe, you could all learn to be a family together.

Anxiety overdrive kicks in and a potential solution tumbles out of your mouth, “What if we go somewhere else instead? Somewhere we’ve been before?”

Matt lifts his head up at you, so you see yourself in his glasses, and for a second you think he's going to argue - insist you go to the Church playground - but then he tilts it towards where you don't want to go. You don't know what he is listening for, but after a moment, he stands again. He steps closer, a hand going to sit on your waist and trapping Minnie between the two of you. She stays nestled against you, little fist tight on your shirt, but you find yourself breathing a little easier at his touch.

“Would the office be okay? Foggy is out meeting clients and Karen is at the Bulletin today, it will just be us.” He offers quietly. Relief washes through you at the suggestion - you think the office would be a much easier meeting place.

But it is not your decision to make. You gently bounce Mouse to get her attention and ask, “Do you want to go to Daddy’s work?”

She doesn’t respond right away, but you feel her twist your shirt in her hands. You can tell she is thinking over her answer, so you wait, trying to focus on your daughter instead on how firm Matt’s hand is on your waist. It takes about twenty seconds, but Minnie finally nods into your shoulder. 

“Okay, We’ll go to Daddy's work.”

To reward her for being so brave, you press a kiss to your daughter’s hair and Matt quickly mimics you. Minnie clings tighter to you at the affection and you think she is going to remain tense and upset until you are far away from the Church.

“Okay. Wait here, I'll go tell Sister Maggie about the change in plans,” Matt tells you and you wonder if it is really okay with him. 

You know you and Minnie meeting her is important to Matt, but is the location important as well or is it just convenient? You are too wound up to ask and fearing you won't like the answer, you keep your mouth shut and focus on rocking Mouse.

Matt gives Minnie another kiss as he tightens his grip on you just slightly. It isn’t painful, but you get the impression he does not want to let go. You want to lean into the touch, your overactive mind telling you it might be nice if he never let you go, but before you can process those feelings, he is pulling away and crossing the street.

You step to the side, so you don’t impede foot traffic, and watch as he navigates past the cars and disappears around the side of the large building. Once he is out of sight, you look down to your daughter.

You want to ask her why she doesn’t want to go to the park at the Church, so you can better understand how she sees the world, but you also don’t want to put too much pressure on her. She’s already clearly upset, and you think trying to get her to answer your questions will just make things worse. 

So, you focus on making things better for her.

“Would you like your headphones, Minnie?”

That gets her to lift her head up to look at you, squinting like she’s trying to determine if this is some sort of trap. Eventually she gives you one curt nod before hiding her face again.

You are a pro at being able to maneuver to get into your purse while carrying a toddler and soon enough you are handing over neon blue headphones. She needs no help in unfolding them and situating them over her ears, and once they are on, she snuggles herself back into your arms. You have no issues or complaints with the action - you simply begin to rock her again and hope this mood subsides once you are at Matt’s office. 

You think about ways to get Minnie to interact with Matt’s mother as you wait for Matt to reappear. You think this might be the perfect time for parallel play - you’ve got a few coloring books stuffed in your purse, along with some small toys. You think it may be best to let her do her own thing while the adults talk, and that she comes over when she’s ready. 

You hope that Sister Maggie understands that would be ideal - you know she helps to raise children, so she must understand that some kids are shyer than others. Pushing Minnie to interact when she’s fussy will only result in tears. 

Possibly your own.

A few more minutes pass before Matt returns to the sidewalk followed by who you assume to be his mother. She's dressed in a gray and blue smock dress and matching habit, which is far less intimidating than the all black look you were expecting. She has an air of authority about her, holding herself tall as she walks, and you have the feeling she is a no-nonsense person.

You pray to a God you don’t really believe in that this meeting goes better than you fear it will. 

You move to meet the pair as they cross the street to you and offer what you hope to be a warm smile. The smile, though not as overtly friendly as yours, is returned and Matt does the honor of introducing you. You adjust your hold on your daughter so you can shake the woman's hand. 

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Matthew has told me wonderful things about you,” Sister Maggie says before directing her attention to her granddaughter. “And who might this little one be?”

To no surprise to you, Minnie attempts to burrow into you more at the question, smushing her face hard into your neck. You rub her back, trying to let her know everything is okay.

“This is Minnie, she's a little shy right now.”

Sister Maggie gives a knowing nod, “New places can be intimidating.” She drops her voice just slightly, in what you guess is an attempt to be comforting, and addresses Minnie, “Did your father tell you this is where he grew up?”

He did - you and Matt explained the outing to your daughter, but you don’t know how much she understood. You do know no amount of sweet talk will change her mind, even if it is about her new favorite subject - her Daddy. 

“I don't wanna go,” Mouse mumbles against you defiantly. You aren't sure if Sister Maggie can hear her, but you know Matt can. He steps forward, once again boxing in Minnie between the two of you and leans down to kiss the back of her head.

“We're not going there, princess. We're going to Daddy's office, remember? You've been there before,” he whispers into her hair. She shifts around in your arms a bit before giving another nod. You can feel her jutting out her bottom lip against your neck and part of you thinks you should call this all off and reschedule - but you aren’t going to do that to Matt.

Sister Maggie is watching your little family’s interaction, and you can’t bear to look in her direction to see what her reaction is, if she has one. Your anxiety has only prepared you for the worst.

“Perhaps we should start heading that way instead of saying where we are not going,” the nun advises after a moment and instinct and rational has you agreeing with her.

“I think that would be best.”

Matt pulls away from you and Minnie and you watch with downcast eyes as Sister Maggie offers her son her arm. He seems hesitant to take it, but he does, and your little group starts moving away from the Church and towards Nelson, Page, and Murdock.

The walk is quiet and you use the time to try and desperately calm your nerves, if only for the sake of your daughter. 

You think about Matt and what kind of person he is - he is full of love and care. He got those traits somewhere, and whether you argue Nature or Nurture, Sister Maggie has certainly influenced that. Did she encourage his Goodness? She must have had some sort of positive influence if he is not only wanting her to be in his life, but his daughter’s life, as well. 

You know some people believe family comes before anything, even if they treat you horribly, but you also know that if Sister Maggie was not a Good person, Matt would not allow her near Minnie.

He wouldn’t risk losing his relationship with his daughter. 

That is something you have no doubts about. 

As you arrive at Matt’s office building, Minnie lifts her head up off your shoulder. She wrinkles up her nose like she’s thinking hard before pointing to the plaque that state’s the firm’s name. You give her a warm smile, proud of her for recognizing it, but that only makes her squirrel away again.

This is the behavior you are used to seeing from your daughter in public - overly shy and not wanting to interact. You aren’t sure if the nerves and uncomfortableness from the church still linger, but you hope that once you are upstairs, she will start warming up a little. You won’t push her to do something she doesn’t want to do, but for Matt’s sake, you would like her to at least try talking to her grandmother.

Matt leads you all into the building and up the stairs. Sister Maggie runs a finger over the banister as you climb the stairs, giving a pleased hum, “Franklin did an amazing job cleaning this place up. Tell me that nose of yours helped in getting rid of all the mold.”

Matt huffs at the comment, “The property manager hired someone to come do that.”

“And did they get it all?” 

Matt’s mouth presses into a thin line and you already know the answer. 

“No, we spent a weekend getting the rest of it.” 

You stop in front of the Nelson, Page, and Murdock office, and as Matt fishes out the key, you look up and down the hallway, mulling over what is implied.

“You cleaned the whole building?” 

“Oh no, we couldn’t get permission from the other businesses to do that, but we did what we could to the public space and our offices. People feel comfortable here now.”

The door is opened and as you all file in, Matt suggests hanging out in the conference room. It has a nice window and plenty of space to sprawl out, so you have no objections. 

You set Minnie down as Sister Maggie and Matt head into the other room. She instantly clings to your leg, practically hiding behind it. You pet her hair a few times before pulling her away just enough so you can kneel down to talk with her. As soon as you are at her level, she is trying to get into your arms again. 

You let her hug onto you as you let her know what is going on, “Hey Mouse, do you remember earlier when I told you we were going to meet Daddy’s Mommy?” She nods but says nothing, so you continue on. “That is her. She wants to talk to me and Daddy and you and get to know us so she can be part of our family, too. But you don’t need to talk if you don’t want to, okay? I have your coloring books and you can color while we talk.”

That gets her to pull back just a hair and peek up at you with big brown eyes, “What are you gonna talk abouts?” 

You smile at the question and gently run your hands over her back, “All sorts of things, but we’re going to end up talking about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. If you don’t want us to talk about you, you can tell me, okay? We’ll talk about something else.”

“But I don’ gotta talk?” 

You nod, and let your bag fall off your shoulder. Minnie’s new zoo themed coloring book and crayons are easy to pull out and you offer them to your daughter. She lets go of you to greedily take her toys and hug them to her chest.

“You don’t need to talk,” you confirm. “Do you want to sit at the table, or do you want to sit on the floor?” 

Minnie considers the question, and you take advantage of no longer being hugged onto to stand up. Your little one peeks towards the conference room, then back up to you, and declares, “I wanna sit on Daddy’s lap.” 

You feel so much pride over your daughter making such a bold decision. 

“Okay, let’s go ask Daddy if you can sit in his lap.” You know Matt would never deny her, but you do want to drill in making sure Minnie asks permission first.

She waits for you to lead the way before following you into the conference room. Matt and Sister Maggie are sitting opposite each other, and Matt has already scooted his chair out and is holding his hands out to help Minnie into his lap. 

“Daddy!” 

She hurries to him and gets scooped up and crushed into a hug. She hugs back best she can while holding her coloring book.

You take the chair beside Matt and finally allow yourself to look at the nun across from you. She’s watching Matt and Minnie with an almost unreadable expression, but there is something soft behind her eyes - like she’s been keeping it repressed for years. 

But then she catches you looking, and the softness is gone, replaced by that All-Knowing Nun look you’ve seen in movies before. 

“How old is she?” Sister Maggie asks, and you can’t help but flush at her directness.

“Almost four, her birthday is on the 28th,” you reply, forcing yourself to not completely avert your gaze and hideaway. 

She raises her brows before turning her sharp gaze to Matt, accusing him with, “You did not mention her birthday was coming up.”

He has the decency to look a little bit ashamed, “There were a few other things to cover, first.” 

The older woman shakes her head, “Priorities, Matthew. I may be new to being a grandmother, but you know well I have raised plenty of children and we have never skimped on birthdays. We may not always have the money to spoil someone, but we do well to make sure they know they are loved.” She looks back to you, “Do you have plans for the day?”

“Oh, um, the zoo. We’re going to go to the zoo,” you tell her.

Beside you, Minnie has slipped down into Matt’s lap, so she is sitting. She has started to flip through her coloring book, examining each picture before making her decision about what to color. At the mention of the zoo, she quietly mimics you, “Going to the zoo.”

Matt breaks into a smile at the words, looking proud as can be that Minnie spoke around his mother. He wraps his arms around her middle and you have the feeling he wants to crush her to his chest again but is resisting. 

Sister Maggie seems to know Minnie isn’t speaking to her, but just in general, and keeps the conversation to you, “That sounds like a lovely birthday. Zoo trips are always a delight with the kids.” She tilts her head slightly to the left before continuing on, “Matthew said you do not have a support network.”

“That isn’t what I said!” Matt quickly says, before turning his head towards you, “That isn’t what I said.”

Sister Maggie scoffs, “It is what you meant, and it is not a bad thing. You more than anyone know what it means to have a support network. Now,” she says your name gently and offers you a somewhat kind smile, “You are welcome to come to the Church and use any of the services we offer, and you may come by anytime you need, day or night. We will always have our doors open for you.”

You stare across the table as you process the words she has said. Shame and embarrassment course through you at the idea of Matt talking about you. You know you’ve never really had anyone to turn to, but the thought of others discussing such matters makes you want to crawl into a hole and cry. Yet, on the other hand, the mere offer of being welcomed at the Church has you spiraling in all sorts of good and overwhelming ways. 

But of course, instead of being thankful, the words that tumble out of your mouth are, “I’m not religious.” 

“That changes nothing,” she says simply and somehow, sits up straighter, “I have been given a second chance to know my son and through this a blessing of a granddaughter. I will not run from these responsibilities again and -”

“Daddy,” Minnie suddenly says, cutting Sister Maggie off while pouring all her crayons out on the table, “Pick a color!” 

Matt’s cheeks turn pink at the interruption, and you try to not slide down in your seat. You know you can’t expect your daughter to sit there quietly, even if she’s being a little fussy, especially if Matt is around. She’s a toddler. 

Matt clears his throat and asks, “What colors are there, sweetheart?”

“There’s green, and blue, and purple, and red, and orange, and yellow,” she lists off, holding up each crayon as she does.

“Let’s go with red.”

“Okay!” Minnie picks up the chosen crayon and begins to carefully start coloring in a gorilla. 

Since she spoke up on her own, you try to engage with your daughter to bring her out of her shell, “Can you tell Daddy what animal you’re coloring?”

You expect her to answer happily - after all she loves explaining things to Matt and she’s been learning all her zoo animals.

So of course, she does not do that. She whips her head around to look at you, and with the sternest little voice you have ever heard, barks out, “I don’t gotta talk!”

Your first instinct is to laugh at the outburst, but you bite down on your lip to control yourself. The urge passes quickly, and you decide you should praise your daughter for setting her boundaries, “That is right, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I’m sorry.”

She narrows her eyes at you for a moment, clearly judging you, before turning back to her artwork. 

Only then do you allow yourself a chuckle. 

To your surprise, Sister Maggie laughs as well. “Well, she is certainly a Murdock.”

That gets your attention and you and Matt both let out a curious, “Oh?”

“That little glare was all Murdock. I have seen it so many times from Matthew, who got it from his father,” she says and there is almost a fondness in her voice. “I expect the hands on the hips pose is genetic as well.”

Your eyes go wide at that. Matt’s father has never been brought up in depth before - you read the news article about his death in an online archive, and he was almost brushed over when Matt told you about his mother. You assumed, like your own parents, it was a sensitive topic. 

“I..didn’t know that,” Matt starts slowly, and you can practically feel the emotion bubbling inside him. Without considering it, you reach across the small gap between your chairs and take his hand, squeezing it. He instantly squeezes back. “I don’t remember him ever doing that.”

“I suspect he tried to not let his frustrations show around you, but it is something I remember clear as day - Jack with his hands on his hips, glaring at the refrigerator because it dared to lose power during a blackout,” Sister Maggie tell him, before she motions to her eyes, “They may not be the same color, but that look is the identical.”

The room goes quiet, save the noise of Minnie scribbling. You keep your hand around Matt’s, trying to communicate you are there for him in his love language. He starts to roll his bottom lip between his teeth, and you wait for him to react before you do. 

“You…,” Matt starts after a few more moments, voice almost warbling, “don’t talk about him. You don’t talk about him like that - what he was like.”

“Yes, well, I’ve never had reason to,” Sister Maggie says. She places her hands on the table in front of her, clasping them together, and she looks like she is about to give an interview. “But that has changed, clearly.” She looks from Matt to you, “Matthew said you were looking for family history. I do not have much from Jack’s side, but I can tell you what I do know, and I keep my own meticulous records. I believe reviewing these things, medical and non-medical, together, will…help us heal.”

You look to for his reaction. His mouth is parted, and he looks like he is going through his own emotional rollercoaster. You know how important family is to him and how dear this information must be to him, so you make a decision.

You lace your fingers with his and smile at Sister Maggie and ask, “How did you meet Jack?”

“Ah, yes, now that is a colorful story…” 

a/n: maggie is v hard to write

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[rogueddie]

Eddie slams his pile of books down on the counter, grinning at how hard Steve startles.

"Jesus, fuck," Steve holds a hand to his chest, glaring. "Man, come on, I'm too young to die of a heart attack."

"Are you sure about that?" Eddie reaches over, to tug at his hair- Steve bats his hand away before he can get near. "What are you now, seventy?"

"I'll have you know that the silver only adds to my charm."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that." He pats the pile of books. "I need to check all of these out."

"You know the limit."

"Please? Pretty please? I'll never insult you for going grey early ever again! Promise!"

"You've made that promise before," Steve grumbles, but starts to check the books out anyway. "What's all of this for anyway? New campaign or something?"

"Nah. Robin mentioned something about the cold war and nuclear shit. Got me curious."

Steve pointedly looks at the books, snorting. "Curious."

"What, you've never wanted to learn some new thing or something?"

"Not this much."

"What about all those sports you played?"

"That was more to do with my parents than me actually wanting to do it."

Eddies eyes narrow because... yeah. Outside of his old King Steve days, Eddie doesn't think Steve has ever wanted something. Not even for his birthday, or Christmas.

All he asks is for them to come to his and Robins flat. All he seems to want is confirmation that they're ok and alive.

"You always say you want kids though, right?"

"I mean, kind of. Though, I'm starting to think the brats we babysat might be more than enough for me."

"Chocolate?"

"Oh no..."

"What?"

"You're planning something, aren't you?"

"No! No, no, no... but there has to be something, right?"

"Something?"

"That you really want."

"There's nothing I need."

"That's not what I'm asking."

"That's all the answer you're getting." Steve shoves the pile of books towards him. "Get lost, I'm supposed to be working."

"Ugh, fine, you're no fun."

But he can't stop thinking about it. He ends up returning the pile of books, despite the fact that he barely read one page. When he tries to use it to question Steve, he dodges the question again.

He very quickly gives up, deciding to pester Robin until she tells him. That takes three weeks of constant, daily efforts. And, in the end, the answer is obvious.

Steve just wants to spend more time with people he cares about.

It's not easy to gather anyone in the party, given that there's no holiday or significant occasion- he manages it, though. All the kids, now young adults, organize transportation. Nancy and Jonathan, over the phone, help Eddie and Robin plan out where everyone will sleep with their small apartments.

The effort, and pain of organizing it all, is worth it for the look on Steves face when he comes home to find them all waiting for him.

When Dustin almost knocks him over with how harm he hugs him, for a second, Eddie is worried that he's going to start crying. But he holds it together, greets them all with so much enthusiasm...

"I forgot that he used to be like this," Robin comments, late into the night. They're sat a little away from the group, watching them argue over their games. "The kids mean a lot to him."

"He means a lot to them."

"I know. I think he forgets though, so... thank you."

Steve doesn't corner him until they've got the kids asleep- half of them going with Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle to Eddies appartment, the rest of them fighting over the little space in Steve and Robins.

"You could've got me chocolate," Steve says, nudging him.

"This is what you really wanted though, isn't it? That was the whole point, big boy."

"Right. Sorry, it... I wanted to say thank you. I know this must have taken a lot to organize and-"

"Steve. You don't need to thank me. Besides, I could never have done this on my own."

"Still... thank you." Steve is quiet for a moment, looking out to the busy city street. "What do you want?"

"This."

"No, what do you really want?"

"Yeah, this. Everyones together, having so much fun. We're gonna do a one-shot when you go to work tomorrow. And, uh... you're happy. I don't need anything more than that."

"Right," Steve clears his throat. He shuffles a little closer, so their sides are almost flush together, tentatively reaching out to hold Eddies hand. "You don't need anything else. What about what you want?"

"You know what I want."

"I want you to say it."

Steve leans over, bumping their shoulders together when he hesitates. He smiles, reassuring, and gives Eddies hand a squeeze.

"What do you want, Eddie?"

"You. I- I want you."

It's terrifying to admit, a horrifying leap... but the smile Steve gives him, so soft and happy, is more than worth it.

"As you wish."