#you want everything live you want things you can touch’

[irndad]

kiss me (under the milky twilight)- s.r.

a/n: this took so long and i'm so sorry! based on this post- reader has an ex that she keeps running back to, and spencer just wants her to see him. fake dating and hijinks ensue. VERY long. 4.6k words!! thanks to @fadingplaidtrashpatrol for ur thoughts and ideas!! masterlist // ask

The unraveling begins on a Friday. 

This is one of the rare Fridays where a full weekend is staring back at them, and Spencer is immeasurably pleased at his plans. He’s rented a Russian old movie, and his best friend had agreed to sit next to him on his shitty old couch while he whispers translations in real-time.

He loves spending time with her, a little hedonistically. She’s so kind, warm in both spirit and disposition, and Spencer treasures the time he gets to spend with her. Her desk adjoins his, and so one might assume that he could tire of her presence, but there’s something a little addicting about her, something he tries to have as often as he can. 

On this fine evening, she’s wearing an oversized sweater tucked into jeans- her position is mainly out of the field, and so she takes full advantage of the dress-code flexibility. Lovely earrings hang around her face, adorning her lovely features like a frame. 

Spencer’s more than a little in love with her. 

This has never really been a convenient fact, but Spencer’s used to wanting things he can’t have. And it was never really feasible not to want her- anyone who’s ever been in her presence would know this. It’s a foreign feeling, looking over at someone he’s lucky enough to know, and wanting them enough for that desire to turn into fantasy. 

“Spencer!” She greets him warmly, standing up to do so- if this wasn’t a workplace, if she was meeting him at the cafe like they do on Wednesdays, or his home, like she often finds herself in whenever he invites her, Spencer is certain she would wrap her arms around him in an incredibly warm hug. 

Because they are in the BAU, she believes it is inappropriate to embrace this way (which Spencer would argue isn’t true, given the way Morgan and Penelope are with each other, but if he told her that, it might be a little too obvious how desperate he is for her to touch him.)

The way she beams at him almost makes up for the fact that he doesn’t get to hug her. 

“I got you something,” he says in lieu of a response, clutching the bag of muffins in one hand. He’d woken up early to get her to stop by her favorite bakery, and it was worth it to see that look on her face. No one’s in the office now, the day long finished, and they’re getting ready to walk to his place. He lives so close by, and he’s grateful for this fact when they walk together back to his place. 

She grabs the bag, and he’s just so endeared by her, the giddy expression written over her lovely face.

“Have I mentioned that I love you? Because I do. You need to marry me, immediately.” She says to him, eyes closed in bliss, and even though she’s clearly joking, Spencer finds himself preening at her praise- wouldn’t it be incredible if she meant that? It sounds so pretty in her voice. I love you. 

He beams back at her, in a way he hopes doesn’t betray how much he wants. 

“I’m glad you like them,” he says back, his heart in his throat. 

“I have some news that you are going to be incredibly mad at me about.” She says, and a crumb is on her painted lip, and fantasy of kisses that he cannot have enters Spencer’s mind before he can shake it away.

“I could never be mad at you.”

“I think I have to raincheck tonight,” she says almost sadly, her voice apologetic, as though she has no choice in the matter.

“Is everything okay?”

He had picked up her favorite snacks yesterday night, tidied up his apartment top to bottom. 

“Josh texted me- he’s going through something and he needs me to come over-“

“He doesn’t need you to come over.” 

He rarely interrupts her, and he usually isn’t capable of being upset with her. He’s not really even upset with her now, but this is so exhausting, watching her deal with this asshole. 

It is a continuous surprise to Spencer that someone like her can be in a position like this.

Through Spencer’s eyes, the idea that anyone can not be in love with her is almost an impossibility. It’s not even his bias alone that makes him think this- it’s the truth of her. 

Josh is an asshole finance bro who works in the city center, and Spencer hates him more than most serial killers. 

He’s fucking careless with the thing Spencer wants the most in the world. Josh knows what it’s like to be with her, to be the person to falls asleep with her in his arms.  

Sometimes when Spencer can’t sleep, which is quite often, he pictures her soft cheek on her chest, pictures what she would feel like entwined with his own body, legs tangled with his and her fingers in his hair. It’s a sacred thing, this image- even though it isn’t real, Spencer knows he values the imagination of her presence more than Josh gives his attention to the real thing. 

They’ve “gotten together” and “broken up” and “started talking again” about 12 times respectively.

Spencer could kill him.

“Spence,” she sighs, shaking him out of his angry stupor, “please don’t be mad at me. He’s really going through something right now- he needs someone to be around. Besides,” she breathes out, “I can’t dump him. 

“Why is that?” He tries to temper his tone, but the memory of her mascara running down her cheeks as she sobs in his arms shoots through his mind, and manifests as a physical sharp pain in his chest. 

“That wedding is coming up,” she murmurs, looking down at her shoes. They’re scuffed, and Spencer thinks she might be embarrassed. Why should she be? He’s the asshole. “I told people I was going to have a date. Do you know how many people are going to be there, Spence? How many people are expecting me to bring my boyfriend?”

Her best friend is getting married. Spencer knows this because she’s told him, and told him gleefully when Josh had agreed to go with her. Spencer remembers thinking that he’d like to punch a wall.

Anyway. 

She’s the last of her friend group that’s not in a long term relationship, and in some twisted way, he kind of gets how Josh would be better than nothing, if you didn’t want to be seen as alone. 

“You don’t want to go alone.”

“Yeah, Spence.”

“I could go with you.”

It escapes his mouth without his permission, and he regrets it almost instantly. Because there’s no fucking way she’d go with him. He’s lanky and awkward and his blazers never fit and his ties are always tied wrong, and she’s beautiful and wonderful in ways he finds new ways to see everyday. He’s not a solution to her being worried about how she’s seen, he’d only make it worse-

“You would do that for me?” Her voice is small as she asks, and it shakes him out of his thoughts. He looks down at her, eyes softening at her lovely face. She looks touched, and he has to wonder, doesn’t she know?

He’d do anything for her. 

“Of course,” he breathes out, a nervous hand playing with the strap of his bag, “If it gets you to stop giving that asshole the time of day, I’d do it a million times.”

Her face shifts in a way he can’t read, and she swallows. 

“I can’t let you do that.”

“I want to,” he says, “Please. It would be fun, C’mon. You’re always saying I need to get out there and do things.”

“Being my fake boyfriend at my friend’s wedding is not getting out there and doing things,” she pouts, and his heart nearly jumps. It’s pathetic, but hearing her refer to him as her any kind of boyfriend is intoxicating. He wants to hear it, over and over. 

“It’ll be fun,” he says, touching her hand as it rests on the table, making intentional eye contact. She has been prettiest eyes. “C’mon, let me do this for you. I’m sick of this guy.”

She gulps again, an endearingly confusing gesture, and he finds the feeling a little desperate. Pick me, choose to be with me, even if it’s just pretend. 

“He’s going to be there anyway,” she breathes out biting her lip in a nervous gesture, “I- I’d owe you so much, Spence. It would make him jealous, I think.”

It’s a little hedonistic, how much he would enjoy that, he thinks. Someone would see her as his girl. He knows she might be doing this to get Josh’s attention, but still- the evening together seems like too lovely of a thing to turn down- too wonderful of a chance to not offer. He’d take a night of pretend over never getting to be with her at all. 

It’s enough to make him ignore that making Josh jealous is probably the reason she’s saying yes. 

“Okay, okay! Spencer, will you do me the honor of taking me to Julie’s wedding?”

“I would be honored. 

The weeks approaching the wedding are a bit of sweet torture. She’d had the idea that they could practice, whatever that meant, and the memory of it lives in his mind rent free. They’d been watching the movie, already touchier than most would allow of best friends. (She’s his best, Spencer’s just the tiniest bit resentful of Julie). 

She’d been sitting next to him on his worn out couch, her legs thrown across his, and true to his word, he was whispering the translation along to the movie. She smiled at him, watching his mouth move instead of the movie, and he felt tingly under her stare. How wonderful and bright it is, to be under her gaze. He kept speaking even though she wasn’t watching, because he imagines that if he stops, she might look away. 

Then, she had held his hand. 

Grabbed it really, fingers lacing with his own, and Spencer’s brain had short circuited. She has soft hands, he had thought to himself, and it was about the only thing he could manage to think. 

“We should practice,” she had whispered, even though it was just the two of them in the lowlight of his home, “Y’know, so people believe us.”

He didn’t say that he’s pretty sure no one needed to be convinced he’s in love with her. 

“Sure,” he had nodded, and squeezed her hand, “I think that’s a great idea.”

So they’ve been practicing. 

This has been in equal measures wonderful and torturous. She walks with him to work on half the days, with her fingers twined with his own, and Spencer finds it intoxicating that any passerby would assume he belongs to her. 

More than he already does, anyway. 

Her affection is her own, just turned up to 11. She’s gorgeous- this is a fact that was not instrumental in his love of her, but ornamental- still, this is hard to ignore when she touches him as much as she does now. When she’s out with the team at the bar, she rests her hand on the small of his back- he preens every time at this. This is simple, her domesticity, her claiming his presence as her own- it’s more than nice, Spencer realizes. It’s wonderful, to be wanted by her. Even if it’s not real.

On this night, they’re celebrating. They caught the unsub before he’d been able to kill his first victim. This is a rarity in their field, and she’d given the interview that had gotten the confession. It’s the closest to field work she’d gotten, and they’re all celebrating their win. Her win. 

She looks like a figment of imagination, lovely in a way he literally cannot believe he didn’t conjure up in fantasy. Her favorite song is playing out of pure serendipity, and Spencer likes that word for her. She is serendipitous as a whole. 

“Do you want something to drink, honey?” The endearment feels warm and natural as it comes out of his mouth. His hand is resting on the small of her waist, and he knows he’s being egregious with the practice thing. But this is so nice, her leaning into him, one drink deep and touchier than she is tipsy, and he loves this. He loves that under this pretense, he gets to know what she feels like in his arms. 

He hands her the water before she gets to answer, and she happily sips it. 

“Are you proud of me, Spence?” Her voice is immeasurably fond and he drinks it in like a man starved. 

“Of course,” he smiles at her. I’m always proud of you, he thinks. “You did so well, love.”

He’s not used to endearments, but she showers him in them. Before their little pretending, too. Called him dove, honey, darling. Packed an emergency lunch in his go bag in case he forgot his. She’s such a good friend, and he wants to be her lover more with each breath. 

He tries to return them, now. 

“Good,” she says serenely, looking at him in a way that kills him, because he will never, ever kiss her. She can hold him, and look at him like that, and he will never get to be with her, “I think my cider is too sour,” she scrunches her nose, and his heart swoops. 

“I’ll get you something sweeter, baby.”

“Yeah you will!” He hears Morgan laugh, and he flushes bright red. No one seems surprised, by how touchy they’d been. Even Hotch- he’d expected a talk, but then got a stern nod of understanding in its stead. 

She sips the sweet drink he got her, a little cherry on the step, and he thinks he’d do anything to keep looking at her. 

Five weeks to the wedding. 

He can do this. 

“Could you do me a favor, Garcia? I come bearing gifts.” 

Spencer’s snuck into her office- there’s not much to do today, but she hadn’t wanted to take PTO for no reason, so here she is, in her feathered and pink glory. 

“Is that a hot chocolate? From Dominicks? Ooh, you play dirty, Dr. Reid.” Penelope almost squeals, and despite his nefarious purposes, he finds himself joyful- it’s alwaysgood to talk to her. 

After a joyful, eyes closed and serene sip, she asks, “Alright, my sweet furry friend, what can I do for you?”

“Could you check on a Josh Collins for me?”

“Isn’t that your girl’s ex?”

“No,” Heat rises to his cheeks, before he can help it. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh, and my favorite color is black.” Penelope scoffs back, but begins typing furiously anyway. 

He needs to know what is so fascinating about this guy. Because lately he can’t figure it out. He’s always fucking hated the guy, even though he’s never met him. He never had to- she’d shown up enough times at Spencer’s door crying, been broken up with and brought back enough to know that this guy is awful. Doesn’t even come close to deserving the woman that she is. 

“He’s a financial analyst at a Marketing firm, went to state school for his Bachelor’s, says here that he played football in college, but I don’t think they met until after,” she says, “Oh, he has a scuba license. And skydiving! Looks like he’s a bit of an adrenaline junkie.”

It’s an evil thought. Is that what she likes? He finds it hard to imagine, picturing the moments where she’s wrapped up in his arms on a movie night- that always seemed to be her preference. In, not out. 

“Is that him?”

There’s a picture of him on Penelope’s screen. Josh is chiseled and strong, smiling brightly in a polo on a jet ski- this is a photo posted on his social media, and Spencer has met a million of this guy. They bullied him in school. Spencer as genius and he’s a lot of things, but that will never be one of them. It’ll never, ever be him. 

Good to know, anyway. Better not to fantasize about what he knows he can’t have. 

On the day of the wedding, it’s actually a 6 hour drive. She’d offered to get them plane tickets, but he enjoyed his time with her. He was also desperate to extend the time until the wedding was over, and she’s probably the only person he wants to be trapped in a car with. 

They’re sharing a hotel room. She’s booked two beds, which he’s honestly grateful for- if they’d shared a bed, he might’ve combusted. 

Still, there is so much intimacy. She sings in the shower. He imagines a world where he’d know that in domesticity, where after a night spent in laughter and something like love, she showered in his home. But that’s not how he knows it. He knows it because he’s at her best friend’s wedding, pretending to be her boyfriend. 

When she comes out of her bedroom, she’s gorgeous. 

She’s got a green and purple dress on, a cinched waist and a sweetheart neck, a dash of plum lipstick on her lovely pout, and he’d like to kiss that smile very, very much. She’s a delicate kind of lovely, saturated in sweetness, and it’s sweet torture to have her this close.

“You look...” He struggles to find words, an uncommon occurrence in his life, “Like a vision.”

It’s sentimental and warmer than he wished he sounded, but god- she’s stunning. She looks like she’s made of old film, beautiful in that way that’s just a bit too good to be true. He adores her more with each breath.

“You think it’s okay?” She speaks to him with her doe eyes adorned with a concerned expression. He wants to kiss it away.

“You look lovely,” he says, a vast underselling.

The ceremony is a lovely affair, and Spencer learns that she cries at weddings. The bride and groom have lovely, saccharine vows, and Spencer tries not to picture a wedding that he will never get to have. 

It’s a little bit impossible with her at his side. 

She’s touchier now, even mores then when they were ‘practicing’. Her hands are warm laced with his own, her head leaning on his shoulder, and he feels lucky to have even a piece of getting to be with her. 

At the reception, she is tackled by her friends, and he performs dutifully as the caring boyfriend. It’s not hard.

It’s a lovely night. His arms glued to the small of her waist, and he’s been introduced as her “genius FBI agent boyfriend” many times tonight. He turns bright red every time. 

“This is my boyfriend, he’s the smartest ever,” she brags when she’s half a drink deep, and he cherishes the ability to draw circles on the small of her back in this moment- his words fail him in moments of praise, and touch is an avenue that he is rarely allowed to use.

“I don’t believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified-“

“Which is a thing that humble geniuses say.” 

So he’s having a great tine. 

Her lipstick is transfer-free, and his cheek is proof. She’s so affectionate his heart keeps doing somersaults. There’s a signature cocktail with some pun in the couples name.

“I’m fucking obsessed with these, Spence,” she says, a light airiness to her voice that he recognizes as her tipsy voice, “Can you get me another, my love?”

“Yes, honey.” He smiles at her, and kisses the crown of her hair before leaving her in the company of her friends. He’s indulging a bit too much, he’s aware. He’s going to have to give up this up when the sun rises, like some fucked up fairytale where Cinderella never gets the guy because she’s not worthy of it without the pretense.

“Could I get the house cocktail?” Spencer asks the bartender, flashing a smile at her with the giddiness of knowing he will return to her.

Spencer had nearly forgotten that part of the reason he was here was because of Josh. 

Who is at the bar.

“Hey man- you’re the dude she brought, right?” 

Josh is actually about 2 inches shorter than Spencer, and Spencer makes the most of this difference. He’s a broad chested muscle man, but he looks woefully underwhelming. 

“Yeah, I’m the lucky guy.” Spencer replies in a deadpan tone, turning to face him with a stony expression. 

“Careful, man,” Josh says, and it’s a little pathetic how he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t care, “She’ll chew you up and spit you out.”

“Really? Because it seems like you’d leave a bad taste in anyone’s mouth.”

“Whatever, dude. It’s clear that she just brought someone to make me jealous.”

“Actually, while I can’t read her mind, I imagine you’ve slipped hers entirely. Clearly your entire energy is based in whatever ego-driven shell your youth has shaped you into- and maybe one day someone will care enough about whatever tragedy made you the way you are, but I am deeply uninterested, and I’d wager she is too.”

He’s not sure if this is true, but Spencer’s noticed that in the time since their ruse has begun she hasn’t mentioned Josh. Not once. She might not love Spencer,  but she might not see Josh anymore. 

“Also, if you ever speak disrespectfully of my girlfriend again I promise you it will not end well for you.”

His voice is even and has an underlaying of quiet rage. It’s wonderful to call her that, even more so as she enters into his eye line.

“You looked mad,” she says in lieu of a greeting, her nimble arms wrapping around his waist with fluid ease, “Is everything okay?” 

It’s only then she sees Josh, and there’s something wonderful about knowing that she came here to check on him. Josh is about to say something, he can tell even though he’s only visible in the corner of his vision. 

It’s a calculated risk but he chooses to do it anyway. 

When he kisses her, he doesn’t know what to expect. It falls into line like puzzles into place, one of her hands falling to his waist and the other cradling his jaw with a delicate softness. She leans into him totally and this is an intoxicating feeling- her lips are so, so soft and it’s what he’s been fantasizing about since she first smiled at him and asked him to keep going when he was rambling about Russian literature. 

It’s actually better. 

When she pulls back, she scans the space. Josh is gone.

“Well that had the intended effect,” he says- it seems better than anything else, like confessing that the only reason he did it was that he could. He kissed her. 

She nods, clearly a bit frazzled, and fuck-

“I should have asked, fuck, I’m sorry-“

“No, no, you’re okay, um-thanks for getting rid of him.”

Her voice is hollow. 

Despite the awkwardness of the kiss, which Spencer cannot stop thinking about.

Did he imagine it, or did she lean in? Did she sigh into it? How is he going to ever get over the fact that he’s never going to do that again?

Her lipstick is grape flavored. Now they both know that. 

They get back to the hotel at half past midnight, and she’d been a little distanced- not so much they still didn’t look like a couple, but enough that Spencer knows. They’re winding down the artificial love affair, and all of the things he’s become kind of addicted to are going to go away. Her fingers running through the tendrils of his hair, her delicate fingers rubbing tiger balm on his temples when he’s got his migraines. Her cheek kisses, the honeys, my loves, sweethearts. 

Kissing her. 

When she drops her bag on the hotel bed and sits on the edge of it, he sits next to her. She’s been quieter, since the kiss. 

“Hey.”

“Hey back,” she replies, bumping her knee with his in fondness. 

“I’m sorry I surprised you with, you know.”

“Kissing me?”

“I should have asked- I’m sorry.”

“I’m not upset that you kissed me,” she says, looking down at her shoes, “I’m upset that you only did it because you wanted to spite Josh.”

“What?”

“I know that this is my problem, Spence,” she says, “You never… led me on, you know? I know that this was always my thing to deal with. Being in love with you was never something that I thought would be a problem. But when you offered to go with me- to pretend to be my boyfriend, how could I pass that up?”

This makes no sense.

“I know,” she runs her fingers through her hair in a frustrated motion, “I know that it was never a good idea. But the idea of getting to be with you was just too much to turn down, even it it wasn’t the real thing. And now we’re going back to normal and I promise that I will go back to being your friend. It might take me a second, though-I might need some space.”

She needs space from him? Because she can’t transition away from being his fake girlfriend?

“You don’t need space from me.”

He’s so fucking bad at talking. 

“Spencer-“

“No, no,” because now he has a shot- now  there’s a reality where the pit in his chest doesn’t have to live there forever. He can be with her. Because for some crazy, insane reason, she wants him. “You don’t need space from because I don’t want space from you, okay?”

He sits next to her on the bed, eyes a little crazed with want with nowhere to go. 

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Her voice is tempered, and he thinks he hears hope. 

“I love you. I am in love with you. I���ve been in love with you as long as I’ve known you,” he grabs her hand-it feels desperate to say and he sure he sounds it, “I didn’t kiss you because I wanted to spite him. I did it because I couldn’t live with the idea that I would spend the rest of my life never have kissed you.”

He probably would say more- so many things are coming to mind, most of which are pleading. She’s the only thing he’s ever wanted this much. Before he gets to, though, she kisses him. 

It’s sudden, as all things of this nature are, but he pulls her close on instinct. She ends up on his lap, her hands around his neck, and it is so rare that fantasy lives up to reality. But this is better, the feeling of the weight of her pressed against him and the taste of her grape lipstick. 

It’s a minute when she pulls back, and it takes everything to not chase the contact.

“I love you too,” she says, the sweetness of it dripping from the sound of it. He wants to hear it again, and again, and again.

“For real?”

“For real.” 

When the run rises in the morning that follows, he’s wrapped around the length of her like a vice, right and close to him, Her head rests on his chest, and while there is another bed there, it’s clearly not seeing any use.

He’s never slept better in his life. 

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 20]]

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.

chapter masterlist

Words: 4.3k

ao3 link

Pain radiates through your body as you begin to regain consciousness. There are two points that are throbbing and parts of you want to slip back down into the darkness until the aches are gone, but the rest of your body doesn’t like that plan. 

Slowly, the switches in your mind are flipped to ‘on’ and you become more aware of what is happening around you. There are two people talking near you - a man and a woman whose words you cannot yet process, but the deeper voice sounds so very familiar and comforting. It takes a few moments or hours - you cannot tell - for you to give a name to who is speaking, but when you finally figure it out, your mouth speaks his name.

“Matt…?”

Your name is said, then something is touching your face. Your instinct tells you to pull away, so you try to, but there is a gentle pressure keeping you in place.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s just me, sweetheart. It’s just me.”

Forcing your eyes open takes a few tries and you have to blink multiple times to get anything into focus. Slowly, Matt’s face forms in your vision, looking so, so haggard. His hair is fluffed up like he’s been messing with it and he’s got a frown that is so out of place on him. He should be smiling or laughing. That is how you always picture him in your mind - warm and happy. 

You realize it is his hand that is cupped along your jaw and press into it, letting your eyes close again. His thumb begins to rub along your cheek and you want to melt into it and allow yourself to drift back into the nothingness where there is no pain. Matt, however, has other ideas.

“I need you to stay awake. Can you do that for me?”

You do not want to do that, but since he is asking, your eyes open again. Your brain feels like sludge, but it is your knees that are screaming at you to not move. 

You are startled into being more aware of your surroundings when a feminine voice speaks from above you.

“Matt, you need to move if you want me to do anything.” 

He seems to hesitate, his face screwing up into something clearly unhappy before he finally pulls away from you. He doesn’t go far, though, stepping only a foot away. Only once your vision isn’t filled with a handsome-exhausted lawyer do you process that you are laying on your couch.  You have no idea what is going on, why you are in pain, or how you got to this position, but part of you feels at ease because Matt is there with you. 

You trust he won't let things go badly for you.

A beautiful, but tired, woman steps into your view, a pen light ready in her hand. She has an air of authority about her that has you not questioning why she is in your living room. 

“My name is Claire, I’m a nurse,” she tells you and you introduce yourself. “You passed out. I'm going to check your eyes and ask you a few questions to make sure you don't have a concussion.”

“Okay.” You don't remember passing out, but it would explain a few things. Your anxiety-people-pleasing mind pushes your confusion down and wanting the examination to be easier for Claire, ask, “Do you want me to sit up?”

“Do you feel like you can?” She counters and you don’t really know the answer, so you try. Your head throbs as you do and your knees are not happy about bending, but you get yourself into sitting. More pieces are added to the puzzle of what is going on, but none of them make any sense. 

You couldn’t tell before, but Matt is wearing a dark red jumpsuit that reminds you of Captain America’s armor. There had been a news segment where they had brought out a replica to talk about the design and the function and all you can think is Matt somehow got his own copy and customized it. For whatever reason. You certainly don’t know all of his hobbies - it could be a cosplay thing for all you know - or some kink - or both. 

You are in no position to judge.

The other puzzle piece is Karen’s boyfriend, sitting at your kitchen table looking at his phone, with your daughter in his lap. She is splayed against him in her bright pink jammies and her sleep headband, and you can only guess how deep into dreamland she is. But why is she out here, being held by a near-stranger, and not in her bed? 

You don’t get to ask that question - Claire is back in front of you with her penlight, shining it directly into your eyes.  As she does, she fires questions at you.

What is your name? Birthday?

Where are you and who is the current president?

What is twenty divided by four?

You pass the concussion test and are rewarded with two of the biggest ibuprofens you have ever seen. You take them, chasing them down with water from your sticker-decorated water bottle, as Claire tells you what is what.

“You have a decent sized cut on your forehead. It needed three stitches - and those will dissolve on their own, so you don’t need to worry about that. I’ll give you some of these higher milligram pills for the headache you’ll have, but a good night’s rest will have you up on your feet again. Do you need instructions on how to clean the cut?”

You take in the information at face value, still unsure why you are being examined and cared for in your living room as opposed to a hospital. Everyone else seems so sure of what is happening and completely fine with it, so you simply shake your head.

“Um, no, I know how to take care of it.”

“Perfect,” she turns away and begins to pack up a backpack on the coffee table you did not even notice. “If you start getting nauseous, head to the ER. Now,” she turns to stare down Matt, “If my delicate hands are no longer needed, I’m going back to bed so I am well rested for the job I actually get paid for.”

“Thank you, Claire. I appreciate it,” he says in a soft voice, but there is a layer of gravel in it you aren’t used to. 

The nurse finishes her packing, then looks to you with a small smile, “it is nice to finally meet you, I’m sorry it was like this. Late night calls have gone down since he told me about you.”

“Nice to meet you?” You say to her as she leaves your apartment, completely unsure of who you just met and what her connection to Matt is.

As you continue you try to comprehend what is going on, Matt moves towards you. He cups your jaw with both hands, smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks, “what were you thinking?”

You frown at not only the rougher tone he is using, but the question, “Matt, I don’t know what is going on. I don’t…” 

You trail off and finally mentally address what you have been ignoring.

Your hand creeps up to your face and you feel the edges of the band aid covering up the cut on your forehead. How did you even manage to do that? Claire said you passed out - but how? And why? And why are Matt and Frank here?

Did Minnie call them like she did with Foggy when you were sick?

You don’t know those answers, so you switch to things you can figure out. You search your mind, trying to recall what you were doing before you apparently passed out. You remember cleaning the bathroom, then Minnie coming in and throwing up. 

As those memories surface, the rest rush you - you took Mouse to the bodega and on the way home, some man attacked you. You remember struggling and fighting then…then there is nothing. 

The fear you felt then tickles back into your throat and you can feel tears starting to form. 

“We were attacked,” you breathe out and almost instantly, Matt is pulling you to him, wrapping his arms around you and cradling you as the reality of what happened hits you. You cling back, burying your face into the rough material covering his shoulder, and try to not break down. 

You’d been slapped a few times - but no one has ever tried to physically hurt you to that extent before. You had never felt so helpless - so useless - before. You hadn’t been able to protect your daughter. 

Hands had been around your throat and in your hair and you had flopped around like a fish. 

He could have killed you. 

He could have killed Minnie. 

Matt gently rocks you as you process what happened to you. You try to not cry, but you can’t stop it when some tears do start to fall.

“Why were you out so late?” he asks into your hair and the guilt pools in your belly. You were so stupid to go out.

“Minnie was sick,” you mumble against Matt’s shoulder. “Her stomach was upset, and we didn’t have Pedialyte. We had to go get some.” 

You can feel him frowning into your hair and it just makes you feel that much worse about everything.

“It couldn’t have waited until morning?”

“No.”

It’s not you that responds - it's the man across the room you completely forgot about. You lift up your head to look at Frank, confused why he is speaking up for you. Matt partially turns, pulling you along, and angles his head towards the other man.

“No?” He questions, not sounding pleased at all that someone else is chiming in.

“No,” Frank repeats firmly. “That’s bein’ a parent, Red. Your kid needs something in the middle of the night, you go out and get it. That’s how it is - there ain’t no waiting until morning when they are sick. That’s how they get dehydrated. She didn’t do anything different than any other mother in the city.”

Matt’s lip twitches and you have the feeling he is trying to not scowl or snap. You can tell he is just worried and upset over what happened, but you’d never seen him like this before.

But Frank is right - there was no scenario in which you did not go to get Minnie what she needed when she was sick. 

You look to your baby, and you need her in your arms. You pull away from Matt, wiping at your eyes as you do, and make your way to your small dining room. You feel more than see Matt follow you - practically becoming your shadow until you are in front of Frank. Once you stop walking, he is against you again, his chest to your back and his hand on your hip.

Your daughter is dead weight as she is passed to you and you cradle her to your chest, giving her hair a kiss before asking, “Is she okay?”

“She’s okay,” Frank assures, and you feel like he is speaking to both you and Matt. “Probably going to have some nightmares and be clingy, but you’ve got one brave and smart little girl.” You smile a bit at the praise, because you like to think the same thing about Mouse - brave and smart - your perfect little angel. 

“Gave her some of that Pedialyte,” he adds, “and she drank it all, so hoping whatever made her sick will be gone.”

“Thank you,” you mumble. You feel like he is a father and that is why Minnie seems comfortable with him, but he has an air about him that makes you not want to ask.

You rock your daughter in your arms, feeling so grateful that she doesn’t have a scratch on her. You have no idea what you would have done if she had been hurt in any way.

You can feel yourself starting to calm - your tears are slowing as you accept and process things and part of you just wants to curl up in bed with your family and sleep for twelve hours. 

Unfortunately, that is not in the cards for you. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Matt’s head jerk towards the main door, and you can’t help but tense up. His vibe since you have woken up has been on edge and you're surprised he hasn’t snapped or something, yet. He pulls away from you to stalk towards the hallway and you hold Minnie just a bit closer to you, unsure what he could have heard.

He swings the door open and there is a woman with thick jet black hair and bored looking expression. She pushes past Matt without care and enters into your apartment. 

“Don’t ever ask me to do that again.”

“What happened?” Matt asks.

“Well, he’s not dead, but he won’t be waking up anytime soon. I even got you a report number, so you can follow up,” the woman says, and you realize they are talking about the man who attacked you. That makes your heart start beating a little harder and your mouth feel dry.

“Did they say where they were taking him?” 

You tune out of the conversation and instead focus on holding Minnie. You press your lips to her hair and avert your eyes away from Matt and the woman. You look briefly to Frank, who is back on his phone, then let your eyes wander elsewhere. Minnie’s sippy cup is sitting on the dining table, so you decide you can at least clean that up. 

As you move around the table, something else catches your attention. 

There’s a large black bullet proof vest sitting on one of the dining chairs, with a distinctive looking skull spray painted on it. 

You’ve seen that skull before - it’s a common thing to see spray painted on a wall or post box around Manhattan. It’s a symbol everyone in the city knows just as well as Spider-man’s emblem or Captain America’s shield - it’s the Punisher’s logo. 

The Punisher - whose real name is Frank Castle, who, if you recall correctly, looks strikingly similar to the man sitting at your dining table. 

For some reason you do not understand, you do not panic. You simply stare at the vest, all the connections flying around in your brain, and mentally go ‘Well, that makes sense.’

The Punisher is here because he was with Matt.

Matt’s dark red jumpsuit isn’t a cosplay or a kink thing - it’s armor. 

It’s armor because he is Daredevil - the protector of Hell’s Kitchen. 

Matt is Daredevil.

Daredevil is Minnie’s Dad.

That’s why he sometimes has bruises and cuts you don’t ask about. That’s why his knuckles are scarred. 

That’s why he is in your apartment tonight - Daredevil stops people from being mugged. 

You were being mugged and he came and rescued you. He called his Superhero Doctor to come make sure you were okay so you wouldn’t have to go to the hospital and explain how a blind man stopped the attack. 

“You okay?”

You look to Frank, and you expect to see blood and guns and mayhem, but all you see is the man who brought you soup. You see Matt’s friend and Karen’s boyfriend - who are two of the kindest people you have ever met in your life. They have treated you better than anyone ever has in your life. They care about you. 

You flash back to your very first encounter with Frank and you recall how you were scared of him, but Minnie wasn’t. Minnie - who is unsure about everyone new. You trusted her instincts even before you knew about her gifts - you’d once heard you can tell a person’s intentions by how toddlers and dogs react to them, and you’ve always found it to be true. 

So, you decide to trust Minnie as well as your initial reaction - it may possibly be because of a concussion but you would actually like to sit and think about what you just learned rather than react blindly. 

“I’m okay,” you say slowly, sticking with how you feel in that exact moment, and not how your night is going. “I think I’m going to go lay her down.” You hesitate, then decide you still need to be a good host, since this is your apartment, ask, “Would you like anything to drink?”

“No, thank you, ma’am,” he says, his lips turning up into a small smile. “Think it’s time for me to head out - leave you and Red to have a talk.”

Your cheeks heat up and you know he knows you have figured out who he is. You hold Minnie even tighter and look down to your feet, your anxiety over being perceived starting to spike.

But you know better than to be rude and Frank has always been kind to you and Mouse.

“Thank you, Frank. I appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”

You do not flee, but you do walk a little faster than normal to carry Minnie to bed. You oh so carefully place her down and tuck her in, making sure Pig is right there with her. Scooby must be out in the living room, and you’ll need to grab him when you finally are able to lay down. 

You stare down at your daughter, who is sleeping so peacefully, and let everything wash over you again. You cover your mouth to try to repress a sob, but you know it doesn’t matter - Matt will still hear it. 

Everything is changing so much and so fast and you don’t know how to deal with it. 

First, you finally find Minnie’s father, then you find out he has super senses and your daughter inherited them, and now you learn he is a superhero.

You don’t know how to even begin to process this development. There is no guide for this and you aren’t even sure how you even feel. 

You can’t be angry at Matt - you don’t know how he got into crime fighting, but you know how passionate he is about being a lawyer and helping people. You know he loves Hell’s Kitchen deeply and you can’t imagine having to hear every little crime that goes on. 

You don’t know much about Daredevil. You know he sticks to Hell’s Kitchen and he’s made the area safer. He stops muggings and break-ins, and he’s cleared out various gangs. You know the community likes him for the most part - there is actually a mural of him in an alleyway near the diner. 

But what does it mean for you and Minnie? 

How does Matt being Daredevil work with him being a father? If you look back over the last few weeks, you haven’t really noticed anything off. 

But what if he gets into a fight he can’t handle? 

Or some bad guy learns who he is and comes after Minnie to get to him? You know that happens to politicians and cops and such, so it would be no different for a vigilante. 

What secrets will you need to keep?

Do you need to learn more than basic first aid - like how to stitch someone up?

How will you explain this to Minnie?

Does he know Spider-man? Captain America?

Does he kill?

There are so many questions ping-ponging around in your mind you don’t notice when Matt enters the bedroom. 

He comes up behind you and says your name in a soft voice before wrapping his arms around your waist. He holds you to his chest, chin dropping over your shoulder, and to your surprise, you find yourself leaning into his hold. 

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” he tells you and you close your eyes at his words, letting his voice wash over you and corral your thoughts into something quiet. “I had a plan to tell you - to explain everything. I swore to myself I wasn’t going to hide anything from you.”

You believe him. 

You wish you would have known sooner, but you also understand why he didn’t tell you. It’s not just something you tell someone, and Matt has proven that his intentions have always been good. 

“Am I going to get another binder?” you ask, sniffling a little as you do to stop more tears from coming.

“If you want one, I’ll make you one,” he instantly replies, “just please don’t take Minnie away. I beg of you.”

You can hear the fear and pain in his voice, and you know exactly how he feels. You remember how scared you were that he would take Minnie away. 

You turn in his arms - looping yours around his middle and resting your forehead on his shoulder. 

“I wouldn’t do that. Not unless she is put into danger.” 

“I would never.”

Again, you believe him. 

His arms tighten around you until you're snuggly pressed into him and you can feel armor and buckles pressing against you. You squeeze him back, needing the comfort and needing something to ground you. 

You need to feel safe. 

Matt makes you feel safe. He made you feel safe before you knew what he did in the night and now it’s just amplified.

“Did you stop him?” You ask in a whisper. “The man who attacked us?”

“I did,” he responds. “I’ll stop anyone who dares to try to hurt my family.”

You shakily nod against him, then ask the question you fear, “Did…did she see?”

He doesn’t respond right away, but when he does, the guilt is palpable, “No. Frank made sure she didn’t see anything.” 

That eases your anxiety a fraction. You will need to talk with Minnie about what happened, and you already fear that conversation. She has never seen anything so violent before and you are surprised she isn’t already having bad dreams. You have no idea how she’s going to react in the morning.

You have no idea how you will react in the morning. 

You press your face into the crook of Matt’s neck, where there’s some type of rough black fabric. He begins to rub his hand up and down your back - you don’t think it will be soothing, but you don’t want him to stop. 

You want him to stay and hold you.

You want him to keep you safe. 

So, you tell him. 

“Stay the night,” you mumble against him, and he nods into your hair. 

Neither of you move to pull away - you stay holding each other in front of your daughter and you wonder if he needs the comfort as much as you do. 

It feels like time crawls by and your knees, which you must have banged up in the attack, start to make it known that you need to stop standing. Matt must sense something, as he nuzzles into your hair and whispers, “We can talk more in the morning. Let's get you to bed.”

You hum in agreement, then slowly bring your arms around to Matt’s front so you can place your hands on his chest, “I need to change. I’ll grab you some sweatpants and a shirt.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” 

It still takes you a minute to finally step away and when you do, his hands drop from you. As you go to dig for clean sleep clothes, Matt begins to undress. You try to not turn to look - you are curious about how the suit is put together and how he gets in and out. You didn’t see any zippers or other clasps, but you suppose he wouldn’t want those out in the open if he’s fighting someone. 

You find two sets of sweats, one large enough for Matt. You hesitate to start changing, but then remind yourself that not only is he blind, but you’ve slept together, so you have no reason to be shy. So, you strip and pull on your new pajamas. 

Matt is still working on his boots when you turn back around, so you set his clothes on the bed. You remember then you are missing a member of the sleep squad.

“Do you know where Scooby is?” 

To his credit, Matt doesn’t look confused. You wait patiently as he uses his abilities, then smile when he tells you the toy is under the coffee table. You go to fetch him, and finally drop Minnie’s sippy cup in the sink, and when you return, Matt has finished changing. 

You hold out Scooby to him with a small smile, “Do you want to tuck him in?”

Matt’s solemn face lights up and he takes the dog. You watch, with a strange lightness coming over your heart, as he places Scooby beside Pig. He places the tenderest of kisses to your daughter’s temple, and you can see him move his lips, but are unsure what he actually says. 

You let him have his moment before taking his hand and tugging him towards your bed. He won’t be sleeping on the couch tonight and both of you know it. You lay down first, then he does, stretching out on his back.

“Come here,” he breathes, and you obey. You roll so you can curl into his side, resting your head on his shoulder and a hand on his chest. His arm wraps around you and you feel Safe.

Your body and mind feel so heavy as you close your eyes, and you hope you can sleep as peacefully as Minnie. 

The two of you lay in silence and when you finally succumb to your exhaustion, as the darkness takes you, you once again hear Matt’s soft voice.

“I love you.”

-

AN: Its not mentioned bc Reader missed it but it is very important to me that everyone know Jess brought Matt his gloves as well.

Also new header :3C

-

tags:

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@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

[mochiwrites]

gentle touch of morning

( a small scarian epic au piece <3 reblogs do more than likes! )

It’s funny. 

Over the twelve long years Scar spent fighting, leading his men into battle, the thought that kept him going was his eventual homecoming. Every waking thought was of his husband and son, and Scar’s reason for living, for breathing, was his family. As he sailed rocky waters, faced monsters and gods alike, lost men after men, Scar wished for nothing more than to be home, to awake with his husband sleeping beside him. 

But as he stands in his home, the one he most intimately knows, Scar feels… wrong. Out of place. He’d woken up early, savoring the sight of Grian’s sleeping face (he could never get tired of it), and felt so restless that staying in bed for any longer seemed impossible. So Scar took to walking around his home. 

He and Grian built this place up, together. The memories are some that Scar looks back on fondly. He could never forget it, no matter how much time he spent away from it. Scar only fears that it has forgotten him. 

Scar takes easy steps, walking and reacquainting himself. He notes the pictures, most of them being of his son. He hardly sees Grian in any of them, perhaps one or two, less than a handful. And the ones that Grian is in, his smile doesn’t light up his face. It makes Scar frown. 

He wanders for a bit, traversing each winding hallway with careful movements. It’s as if he fears the house may collapse at any moment, or some attacker may jump from the shadows, perhaps a god will catch him off guard and finish him off. Not even in his home does he feel the full safety he’s supposed to. These walls feel foreign, unfamiliar. Even if he can picture everything clearly in his mind, knows this place like the back of his hand. Scar still feels like a stranger. 

Eventually, he finds himself in the kitchen. He pauses in the doorway, catching sight of another person. 

His son. 

His little Pitta. 

Well, not as little anymore, as a young boy at fourteen. But to Scar it still feels like he’s just an infant that he could cradle in his arms. Another thing time robbed him of. So many missed moments, opportunities, to watch his son grow. And while Scar knows that there are still many years to come, to see, a piece of him mourns the time he lost.

For a moment, Scar keeps quiet. He watches his son, taking in his dark brown hair and hazel colored eyes. He’s the striking image of both Scar and Grian somehow, even if they aren’t related to him. But Scar loves him all the same; would move mountains to give him whatever he needed. He can’t help but wonder what kind of person his son is, what he likes and dislikes. Does he resent Scar for leaving? Does he consider Scar his father, or a stranger who left a loving husband alone for years on end? He doesn’t want to find out. Not now. 

Scar stands there until he can’t anymore, finding hazel eyes landing on him. He watches the way in which Pitta’s eyes light up, turning all shiny and bright when he notices his father. He turns away from the counter, abandoning the slices of bread he had taken out. He smiles, and gods, does his smile look like Grian’s. “Papa!” Pitta greets, the timbre of his voice cheerful and soft. 

“Hey, Pitta,” Scar returns, heart melting each time he’s reminded that he’s finally returned home. He never thought it would happen, that maybe it’d take him longer, or maybe something would strike him down on the way back. But against all odds, fourteen years, and Scar is home. His son stands in front of him. 

“What’re you doing awake? Is dad up too?” Pitta questions, raising a brow at him. 

“Uh…” Scar blanks, unsure of what to say. It’s not like he’s going to tell the truth, Pitta shouldn’t have to worry about him. Scar has already caused him enough pain, there’s no need to cause more now that he’s actually here. “Gria— your dad’s still asleep,” he stammers. The words feel awkward on his tongue, like they shouldn’t be there. This life of domesticity… he doesn’t know how to go about it. It isn’t just some enemy he can cut down. 

The very thought makes him nauseous. 

“Oh!” Pitta blinks at the response. “Well, that’s… good.” He nods to himself awkwardly, and Scar hides a grimace. 

He… really doesn’t know how to interact with his son. 

There’s this dark curdling of doubt in his mind that begins to creep up, settling over him. He’s afraid. Worried that this is one thing he’ll never overcome. It’s a familiar feeling, an old friend, a once enemy turned begrudging shadow. It’s a feeling he experienced in battle, traversing home, taking his castle back from scoundrels that dare to stain it. But there is a new fear that joins it, overwhelming like a tidal wave. 

Does he even know how to be a father? 

Scar feels his breath sharpen just a tad, skipping a beat and hastening. He can feel hands curling around his throat, beginning to press into his skin. He feels it tightening on him, the grip firm. The pressure starts off as something light, until the fingers of Fear dig deeper with each shakingly quiet breath. It gets stronger and stronger, straining his lungs until he can feel his throat being squeezed, choked. 

“Papa?” Pitta’s voice breaks him from the spiraling thoughts, from the overwhelming fear sneaking in. 

The hands around his neck relax, and the terror recedes, sinking back into the depths of his mind momentarily. He allows himself a moment to breathe, a chance to suck in a soft breath and recenter. His vision clears, and he becomes aware of the way his heartbeat pounds in his ears, loud like a drum. 

He manages a smile, “I’m uh, gonna go check and see if our Sleeping Beauty is awake.” Keeping his eyes trained on his son, Scar tries to maintain his light smile. He takes a few small steps back, slipping into a casual mask. He’s gotten quite good at it over the years of putting on a brave face. “Be right back.”

Pitta watches him, brows creasing in concern as he goes. “Oh… okay,” he answers, sounding resigned as Scar retreats. 

Scar turns around, and brings himself back to the beautiful olive tree where his Grian is fast asleep. The sun shines down on him, cutting through the green leaves. The light spills into their bed, painting a halo in the soft yet sandy blond locks of Grian’s hair. He rests in their bed, eyes shut and face relaxed. His body is curled somewhat, the blanket tucked just over his shoulders. 

Staring at him, taking in the near angelic sight, Scar takes a few breaths to calm himself. He walks over to their bed, sitting down on the edge, right beside Grian. He contents himself with just sitting there, watching the rise and fall of Grian’s chest. It feels a little easier to breathe, with the love of his life right here, peaceful. Scar can almost allow himself to pretend he lives in a world where he never went to war, where he never had to leave his family behind. He can almost allow himself to pretend he was the husband and father he should have been. 

Chest aching and overflowing with doubt and regret, Scar reaches out. Tenderly, Scar brushes some of Grian’s hair away from his face. He ever so softly tangles his fingers in the silky strands as he rhythmically cards through his hair. Scar’s expression softens, chest swelling with love for the man before him. He drags the pads of his fingertips along Grian’s head, feeling the soft locks under his touch. 

He can’t imagine what it was like, doing so much alone for so long. Scar has always believed Grian to be strong, the strongest person he knows. But this? Scar doesn’t think anyone could compare, not even the gods. 

Not in the way it matters, at least. 

His thumb idly strokes Grian’s cheekbone, loving and sweet. “I’d be lost without you, my light,” he murmurs. Because it’s true. Scar would’ve given up a long, long time ago if he didn’t have Grian and Pitta to come home to. Grian is his rock, his eye of the storm, his compass. Scar is caught within Grian’s orbit, forever wrapped up in him. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for this man. Grian kept their home in one piece. He raised their son. He handled whatever it was that Scar couldn’t in his time away. Grian held out hope for fourteen years that Scar would come back to him. 

Scar owes him everything and more. But most importantly, Scar owes him his love. And by the gods will he offer every last ounce of it, every drop. Scar is a man. No general, and certainly no hero. He is just a man who wants to pour his heart and soul out for his spouse. Scar is just a man in love. 

Beneath his touch, Grian’s face twitches, and he begins to stir. “Mmm… Scar?” he mumbles, still groggy and waking up. 

“Good morning, my love.” Scar smiles at him, brushing away a particular curl of hair before stroking his cheek. “Sleep well?”

“‘ink so, yes. It was warm with you,” Grian answers, leaning into the hand on his cheek. “What’re you awake for?” 

Scar pauses, if only briefly. “Uh, well, y’know. Just admiring my pretty husband while I have the chance,” he answers, which isn’t entirely a lie. 

Grian looks at him with clear suspicion, but doesn’t push. Instead, he sighs quietly as pushes himself to sit up. “You can do that when I’m awake too,” he teases, leaning to press their lips together. Scar is more than happy to sink into it, using the hand on Grian’s cheek to angle his head slightly, deepening it. The kiss is sweet, loving. It’s slow and patient, carrying the patience of fourteen years within it.

When they pull away, Scar rests their foreheads together. “I guess I can, yeah,” he agrees softly. “Mind if I take a few more minutes to admire him?” 

Grian smiles, kissing the corner of his mouth in return. “I suppose.”  Scar simply smiles, and gods is he happy to be home. No amount of fear could ever leave him unhappy to be back with the loves of his life. Never. 

[rainba]

Since you made a fic of Luka kidnapping Kairos and his darling, I'm lowkey curious about what would happen if Kairos kidnapped them both. Like it seems kind of unlikely, but I'm super curious. (1/2)

Also could I be 🪻 anon??

— 🪻

Hihiii! :D Yes, you can be 🪻 anon!

If Kairos kidnapped the both of you? Yeah, it is very unlikely- and honestly, he would be an absolute disaster. The entire situation would be.

(￣▽￣*)ゞ

cw: nsfw, kidnapping, Kairos and Luka being their usual selves, minor violence

GN reader like usual :3c

Kairos would definitely panic when he first kidnaps you both. It would be something he hardly thinks through- a spur-of-the-moment type of thing. So, he'd have to improvise a lot of stuff at first. (´-ω-`)

There’re too many windows in his living room, and Kairos doesn’t want to keep anyone tied up in his bathroom or kitchen or anything– so Kairos would have no choice but to keep both you and Luka tied up in his bedroom.

Kairos would be so scared of Luka, despite the fact that he’s the hostage, and not the other way around. ^^;;;;

Kairos would tie up Luka’s wrists behind his back, then wrap duct tape around them, and also put cheap plastic cuffs on them. The same thing with Luka’s applies to Luka’s ankles– and then he’d also be leashed up to the heaviest object in Kairos’ bed.

Is it excessive? Yes. Is Kairos willing to take any chances?? Absolutely not! (o^ ^o)

Meanwhile, Kairos would just have you tied up very lightly, and you’ll be forced to reside in his bed. >_< He would surround you with stuffed animals, pillows, and blankets. It's basically a nest of sorts.

Kairos wouldn’t really know what to do. He's aware that he can’t just keep Luka bound and gagged forever– but at the same time, he knows that the second he lets that man have even an ounce of freedom, everything will be over.

Luka knows this, too.

Every time Kairos undoes the duct tape around Luka’s mouth, he’s quick to throw snide remarks at his trembling captor.

“So, what’s your plan? How long do you intend to keep me here?” 

Kairos pauses, his entire body freezing in place.

“You might as well kill me. If you can't even do that, then you should just let me go.”

Luka’s tone of voice is smug, confident. When he leans in closer, Kairos backs away.

“I– I… I…” Kairos stutters on the first word, unable to say anything past it.

“You can’t keep this up forever.”

Kairos would completely lash out, stricken with intense panic. He wraps his small hands around Luka’s neck and squeezes, but he can never bring himself to finish the job. He pushes a knife up against Luka’s throat, but he never has the courage to cut.

Instead, Kairos always ends up putting the duct tape back over Luka’s mouth, then proceeds to pace around the room while nervously biting his nails.

That’s just what happens with Luka, though… When it comes to you, he absolutely spoils you! Which isn't shocking at all. He’ll give you real food while handing Luka whatever you didn't touch. Kairos constantly gives you tiny sweets and treats while completely ignoring Luka, who’d be glaring daggers at him.

One thing that Kairos would like about this situation, though, is how he gets to fuck you in front of the man who tried to take you away from him. Kairos would position Luka in a way that forces him to watch– and it’s kind of funny. For once, Kairos truly feels like he’s in control. (o^ ^o)

And it’s a little bit torturous for Luka.

For the first time, Luka despises having amazing hearing, because god…

He can hear every little thrust. Every tiny whimper. The wet sounds of skin-on-skin slapping is exacerbated to a disgusting degree.

…Sigh.

[frownyalfred]

Duke can see through short periods of time with his powers right?

Neat way for him to you know see some things Kal doesn't want anyone else to see. Say, him breaking his star trainers ribs five minutes before he's supposed to be training a class of super powered teenagers in hand to hand.

Finally get an answer on why so many of Bruce's bruises are shaped like a hand. To recognize that the strange pattern of bruises along Bruce's jaw are fingerprints.

Maybe even see a pair of supers "training" on their own with him, except it mostly looks like them taunting him. Asking him what his kids are doing now as if they don't have eyes on them at all times, as if he has anyway of know where they are.

Bruce might not even be certain they're all alive. He's relying on Clark and Diana's honesty there, for all he knows they got too frustrating to keep. For all he knows they weren't worth the cost once they and him trapped.

The insidious feat that everything he gave up his life for is already gone, has been gone, and he'll never know because it's too large of a risk to try and escape. Because for now Kal says they're alive, promises so long as he does as asked that he won't do anything to them. That they'll remain useful, in one peace.

Breathing.

But Bruce can't know for certain, not if he can't see them, can't touch them. Can't count their pulse under his fingers.

It's an insidious fear, but it's one he'd never be able to shake even as he lets Kal do anything he wants with him.

(also the horror of the superbat here, where Bruce can't even consider saying no because that might be the step too far that might be what kills one of his kids and how would he live with himself then?)

I lied I'm not done sending asks

That's why I thought maybe Duke would be the best POV for this story! Through his powers and his instincts he knows to look for what's not adding up. And it's his trainer, every single time. Bruce isn't telling them the full truth, but he's showing it clear as day on his face if you know where to look.

Diana and Clark taunting Bruce with his kids is giving me chills. Of course he would do anything they said -- he can't risk them. Even if he could escape, they would go straight for his kids instead of catching him. They'd stop Dick's heart in a blink.

[panimoonchild]

Fight for them as they fought for you

Mykyta Tatyanko "Zhyvchyk", a soldier of the 501st separate marine battalion, is still in captivity. He hit the front pages of all the world's media because he was simply helping the wounded during the shelling of the Mariupol maternity hospital. Because he just wanted to save someone.

In Mariupol, Zhyvchyk provided moral support to the locals. Ksenia, a resident of the city, met the soldier when a residential area was shelled. That day, March 12, her family was injured and slaughtered - her 16-year-old son and her sister's husband were killed instantly. "I was in a state of shock: I wanted to commit suicide because half of my family was killed in front of me, and the other half was not sure if they would survive," Ksenia said. The young defender helped the woman to keep her morale up. Mykyta convinced her that she shouldn't do anything to herself because many people around her needed help. "You are needed here, let's go help," Ksenia recalls. Ksenia told Mykyta's mother, Larysa, everything in detail, and told her that she had become the heroine of a movie about Mariupol. She also talked a lot about Mykyta in the movie, but she didn't give them any details. They are still in touch. Once she said: "Maybe you will be offended by me, but now Mykyta will be my adopted son." And Larysa was very happy about that, because now they both pray for him sincerely. Larysa was also contacted by one of the guys who was in the TRO and headed the security of the hospital in the city center. In a conversation with the soldier's mother, the defender said that in Mariupol, her son shared his food and medicine with the residents. Mykyta gave away almost everything he had.

❗In these pictures, he is 19 years old. At the age of 18, he voluntarily chose the path of the military, which even before the full-scale war, he was in the east part of Ukraine. Mykyta has been in captivity for almost 2 years, so he is now 21.

Please, share stories of our defenders in captivity. Many of them, including Mykyta have been there more than 2 years. You can only imagine what Russians do and tell them. Russians entertain themselves by breaking people, especially Ukrainians. They fiercely hate people who protect and fight for freedom. I hope our people find even more power in themselves to live through the hell of russian captivity. And when defenders all come back to their homeland, they will be themselves, in a healthy state like body and mind. There so many people are waiting for them. They deserve only good things after all of that.

The gorgeous Frank with important message in Kyiv.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

girls just wanna have fun 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, blackmail, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your struggle to push back against your controlling father result in a misguided crush. (Silverfox AU)

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself

Shelby shows up with her switch case slung over her shoulder. You don’t really touch your system anymore, only when she’s around. The last time you tried to boot up, the update took too long and you lost interest.

“So, MarioKart?” She asks.

“I told you, we’re swimming. My dad just left for his stupid work thing.”

“Oh, I didn’t bring a suit,” she frowns.

“Why? I said--”

“It’s late. The water’s cold,” she whines.

“Really, Shel,” you roll your eyes, “why don’t you just play your switch by the pool then and I’ll go swimming.”

“Wow, you don’t have to be rude. You know I’m not comfortable in swim suits,” she sneers, “what’s gotten into you, anyway?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’ve grown up,” you sigh, “I’m over playing video games in the dark. I want to live.”

“Fine, we can sit by the pool. Can I have a blanket?” She huffs.

“Whatever, grab one,” you wave vaguely. She knows where everything is.

You head off down the hall to the French doors and step out in the dimming air. The solar lanterns glow dully as the sky dulls slowly and you strut over to the pool in your new suit. The red might be a bit much but you’ve been working hard.

You sit with your legs in the pool as you search through your phone for a playlist. You connect to the bluetooth speaker and play some buzzy pop. Shelby comes out with a throw around her shoulders and her switch clutched to her middle. You don’t get why she’s so shy. She’s pretty enough and she has a nice shape to her hips. If she smiled and maybe did something with her hair, or wore nicer clothes she might not feel so crappy.

You hum along with the music as her nintendo tinks and deeps under the drone. You push yourself off the edge and dip under the water. It’s refreshing. You don’t see why she doesn’t just hope in in her undies. It’s just the two of you.

As you break the surface, you hear Shelby’s voice but her words are garbled. A low timbre comes in return and you whip around to face the fence. Sam’s once more popping his head over, leering as you wipe the water from your eyes.

“There you are,” he smirks, “was just checking in. Me and Bucky got some extra dogs and we’re about to do some smores. Wanna join?”

You nostrils flair and your lashes twitch as you consider the offer. Sure, you’d love to go over and show off your new fit for Bucky but if it means spending time with Sam, it’s not really an opportunity. You shrug as Shelby stares at her lap. Oh yeah, she’s shy. And the perfect wing woman. You can distract the pest with her.

“Do the smores come with drinks?” You challenge.

“Are you two a package deal?” He sticks his tongue, “don’t need a sausage fest.”

Shelby mumbles your name and gives a desperate look. You wade through the pool to the ladder and climb out, the water slaking down your body. You grab the towel from the chair next to your friend and wrap it around yourself, knotting it low between your cleavage.

“Sure, you like smores, don’t you Shel?”

“Um, yes, but...”

“Come on,” you turn and lower your voice, keeping your face hidden from Sam, “loosen up, alright? It’ll be fun.”

“Please,” she begs.

You hush her and snatch the switch, “come on or I’ll throw this in the pool.”

“You wouldn’t!” She exclaims as she stands.

You send her a darting look then glance over at Sam with a sickly smile, “will you be a doll and go get our drinks ready?”

He chuckles and winks before he descends back behind the fence. You grab the edge of the throw and rip it away from Shelby. You look her up and down and shrug.

“Just do me a favour and distract him, alright?” You snip, “tell him one of your jokes.”

“He’s a stranger,” she ekes out.

“His name’s Sam, there, not a stranger,” you drag her by her wrist through the yard and along the side of the house.

“But... he’s old. Why would you want to hang out with him?”

“It’s not him I’m interested in,” you growl, “okay? Look, it’s just a bit of fun. You don’t have to do anything. I’m not planning on it either. I just want a few drink and to flirt a bit. You said it yourself Shel,” you stop her just outside Bucky’s gate, “they’re old but they’re rich, got it?”

She makes a face, “your dad’s rich.”

“So’s yours, but they’re both assholes. When’s the last time you saw yours, huh?”

She looks away. Her dad’s always on some important business trip and her mother never mentions the perfume on his clothes. You hate to bring it up but you may as well get something out of some old pricks at some point in your life.

“Just smores, alright,” you promise her and keep hold of her arm as you knock on the gate.

“Hey, girls, give me a hand,” Sam calls over, “hands are full.”

You open the back gate from the other side and find him waiting with two bright bottles in hand. The coolers aren’t what you expected. Hadn’t he teased Bucky for drinking Corona?

“Smirnoff Blue Raspberry, huh?” You take one and read the label, “didn’t take you for the type.”

“Oh, I got a hell of a sweet tooth,” he purrs, “speaking of, who’s this little slice?”

Shelby gurgles and you try to ignore her awkwardness.

“This is Shelby, we’re like best friends. Since grade school.”

“Mmm, best friends,” he nods as he looks her up and down, “well, come on in. The old coot is searching for marshmallows. I swear if I wasn’t around, he’d lose himself too.”

“Sure,” you utter dryly and take the other bottle, shoving it towards Shelby. She takes it reluctantly and eyes it with suspicion.

“It’s fine, it’s like five percent,” you squint at the corner, “I don’t think that’s very much.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you drank,” she whispers.

“Not a lot but...” you stop and sniff the neck, “smells alright.” You taste the bright blue elixir and hum, “like a popsicle.”

She takes a reluctant sip and her eyes roung, “mm, yummy.”

“See, it's fine,” you elbow her as you follow Sam into the yard. You've never been this far.

You take in the large oval pool and the grotto hot tub to the far edge of the lawn. Just like the front, it's well-kempt. The patio set all matches perfectly to the tile around the pool.

“So, you guys hungry? Got some spicy hotdogs?”

You look at Shelby, she gulps down another mouthful to save herself from replying. God, you gotta do everything.

“We'd rather the smores. I don't eat whatever hotdogs are,” you scoff.

“Huh, makes sense,” he gives you a lurid look, “how about you, Shelbz? Don't let her do all the talking? You want a nice thick sausage?”

“Don't be gross,” you nudge him out of the way and flick your fingers for Shelby to follow.

She tails you across the grass and you spread out across one of the loungers. You just want Bucky to come out and see you. You just need a bit of a thrill to tide you over, to get you through your next vibe-assisted session.

“Guess I'll go check on that dope,” Sam mutters, “always keeping me waiting.”

“Fine, fine,” you dismiss him.

He retreats and you pose yourself on the lounger, adjusting the towel so when you move the right way it'll come loose. It's not much of a plan but you'll play it up.

Shelby slurps loudly and you look up at her, “jeez, Shel, slow down.”

Her bottle is almost empty as she wipes her lips with the back of her hand.

“I'm nervous,” she quakes. “That guy… he's so… is he flirting with you?”

“He's flirting with you, dummy,” you shoot back, “what's up? You want his sausage?”

You cackle and she nearly chokes, “you know I've never–”

“Relax, I haven't either,” you trill, “it's a game, Shel. They wanna feel like they still got game and well, it doesn't hurt to get a bit of attention, does it?”

“I… guess not.”

“Don't even worry about it,” you snort, “they're probably getting close to bedtime. Just smile, will ya?”

She forces a smile and looks down at her bottle. Maybe she should have another drink. She's such a wet blanket.

[ravenstargames]

✦ Lost in Limbo Devlog #11 | 05.08.24

AHA! Nope, we didn't forget about April's devlog. In fact, we have been busier than ever—doing early preparations for our Kickstarter, working on the demo, sorting out legal stuff...

Speaking of which...

This month we have been really busy making our studio official by the law! Now, to pay taxes and cry! YAY!

We are very very excited about it—and also terrified! We are still sorting out the studio's bank account, as burocracy isn't the fastest thing in this world, sadly. This is the first thing I wanted to talk about in this devlog, because it's such fantastic news for us! :')

Now, let's jump on the process we've made this past month, shall we? ✨

This past month, Raquel worked very hard on our second Key Art. This was originally made for Steam, but I modified the format a bit so it could also be used in other places! I honestly love this one—we have our first Key Art to represent the darker aspects of the game, and then this one to show off the characters' dynamics! Not everything's going to be horror and mystery in the game!✨💜

Also, we have been working on designing the merch for the Kickstarter, but we can't show anything yet. All we can say is that everything is looking gorgeous and we are so excited to share it eventually!

Thanks to Airyn, we've made great progress with the backgrounds! In fact, there's only one left to finish. The one you see above needs a few final touches (that will be made by yours truly!), and then I'll animate it a bit to get it ready for the build! The rest of the backgrounds are finished, animated, and integrated in the build :3

The survey icon is missing, but it'll be there!

Well, this should tell you everything you need to know when it comes to programming! The whole demo is programmed. Functional. Nothing crashes. Stuff works and I'm over cloud nine. I have been working on the final touches (revisiting scenes, checking sprites, music / sfx volume...) and the beta testing phase will begin soon. Soon as in tomorrow.

We've mainly used this month to review the auditions we received for our casting call, contacting the selected VAs, etc. Every VA has accepted their role, received the document with the lines we'll need for the demo, and we'll work hard to announce the cast publicly as soon as possible! We want to at least do a promotional short video showcasing every LI and their VA!

Sadly, making the studio official has (and will) take more time than we anticipated, and as we want to release the demo on Steam, the review process will most likely slow us down. There's the option of doing an itchio release and then a Steam one, but I'm not sure if that'll hurt the project. We are still keeping the demo release date a secret, until things settle down!

Also, I couldn't finish this devlog without talking about the Magic & Mystery Otome cross-promotion! ✨ We were invited by the amazing folks at Best Laid Plans Studios to participate in this event that showcases 12 amazing visual novels like Alaris, Obscura, Dual Chroma and more! I know I have been pretty annoying with this (can you blame me, though?!) so I won't keep rambling about it—just check everyone out, please!

I think that's all! Well, that's not all, but we gotta keep a bit of mystery surrounding the demo! We have been busy bees this month, with the making of the studio, the polishing of the demo, contacting and coordinating the VAs...

We are so excited for the demo release. I'm personally excited and terrified, but blame it on the OCD. I keep jumping from catastrophic scenario to catastrophic scenario. I'll have no control over what happens when the demo goes live, but I have control on what I can do before that happens—and that's working as hard as I've been doing this whole time.

And that's it! Please take care, enjoy the week, and stay hydrated. The Raventar team, NOW AN OFFICIAL STUDIO, wishes you all the best and sends a huge hug your way! 💜

[mcflymemes]

NETWORK (1976) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

i'll tell you what happened. i just ran out of bullshit.

i don't have anything going for me.

what exactly is it you want me to do?

i'm the man you presumably love.

i'm a part of your life. i live here. i'm real.

you understand that, don't you?

did any of you read it?

this is what you're paid for.

i think you're having a breakdown.

this is a cleansing moment of clarity.

tell [name] to go fuck himself.

you've gotta do something.

all i'm saying is if you're going to hustle, at least do it right.

did i ever tell you that one before?

i don't know how i feel.

you keep telling me that you're obsessed.

there's some real, actual life going on here.

the time has come to re-evaluate our relationship.

they say i can sell anything.

i don't have to tell you things are bad. everybody knows things are bad.

i love you, and that painful, decaying love is the only thing between you and the shrieking nothingness you live the rest of the day.

don't leave me.

it's too late, [name].

if i stay with you, i'll be destroyed.

you're madness, [name]. virulent madness.

everything you touch dies with you.

i'm sorry for all those things i said to you last night.

you're not the worst fuck i ever had.

believe me, i've had worse.

i'm sorry i impugned your cockmanship.

we're in a lot of trouble!

you listen to me.

television is not the truth.

i hurt, don't you understand that? i hurt badly.

i'm not gonna leave you alone. i want you to get mad.

you've got to say "i'm a human being, goddamn it! my life has value!"

i'm mad as hell, and i'm not going to take this anymore!

you're never going to get any truth from us.

we'll tell you anything you want to hear.

we lie like hell.

you have meddled with the primal forces of nature.

i won't have it. is that clear?

am i getting through to you?

i have seen the face of god.

get out! go anywhere you want!

don't come back.

i'm damned if i'm going to stand here and have you tell me you're in love with somebody else.

what am i supposed to do?

you need me. you need me badly.

[kyoteugly]

All that we see or seem

Eddie is going on dates with Kim. They talk a lot. In a restaurant, in a park, long walks by the beach at night. She is not Shannon but he feels like he's with her. She doesn't finish his sentences, she just knows what he is going to say before he says it. She knows him. He can trust her. 

At some point Eddie invites Kim to his place. There are pictures of him and Shannon there, but he didn't hide them, didn't cover them. Kim doesn't pay attention to any of them, and Eddie doesn't notice this. Because it's somehow natural. He can trust her. She knows even though he never mentioned Shannon.

It's natural, it feels right, she's where she's supposed to be... by his side... alive...

She is sitting by the table, Eddie walks to the kitchen to make her coffee and there is Shannon, reminding him how to make her favourite coffee. They laugh because of course he remembers. He gets back to the living room and Shannon is there too. She has blonde hair but it still feels natural. And there somewhere in the background Eddie sees a christmas tree and Shannon is there, a bit younger with bright blonde hair... That's strange, but he's too happy to care... The one sitting next to him talks about Chris... Did he mention Chris to her? But she's Shannon, her hair now dark, matching the color of the coffee... She starts the sentence, the other Shannon finishes it. Their outfits are now the same, their hair color changes every time he changes the one he's focusing on. But it's ok, they just need to catch up... it will all make sense in a moment...

...because they know him, they know everything about him, he doesn't have to say anything, they talk to him... She's finally talking to him... her voice is clear and loud, not like in his dreams... it's real... wherever he looks Shannon is right in front of him... real, alive, almost in his reach...

Time is passing, they talk, they laugh, they argue... he said the wrong thing again, she's disappointed, she's mad, she's sad, she's hurt... every single of her emotions is talking to him at once... and all of them are saying it's his fault... 

He needs to move but his legs won't listen, he loses his ground, falling, drowning... he's on the floor, scrambling away as Shannon after Shannon merges above him in one image that is glitching and blurring... and every time he says he's sorry her shape becomes sharp... and every time he admits to a failure her voice became clear... and he just wants to see her and hear her... because she's here... by his side... he can trust her...

Few hours later Buck finds Eddie sitting in the corner of the room, tugging his own hair, staring at the empty space in front of him. His mouth is moving but Buck needs to come closer to hear faint raspy "sorry","fault" and "Shannon". He kneels in front of Eddie, he wants to break this damn matra but he's afraid to touch him. 

He speaks with a gentle voice "Eddie? Eddie it's me... can you look at me? Eddie please, just look at me..."

The shape is glitching again, the voice is disturbed by distant yet familiar sound. He trusts her, but he can't trust himself anymore. Eddie begs her to not leave him, he cries for her. His voice doesn't sound like his anymore. He's saying she's dead, she's not real. Why would he say that when he can feel the warmth of her skin around his wrist... when he can feel...

Buck's heart sinks when he hears Eddie's howling pleas.

"Eddie... Shannon is dead, she's not here... it's not real... Eddie please..."

Buck grabs him by the wrist and pulls Eddie's hand to his chest. "This is real. This..." He unbuttons his shirt so Eddie can feel his heartbeat "Can you feel this? This is real. Eddie!" Buck places a hand on the side of Eddie's face "Eddie please... snap out of it... just... just look at me... come back..."

He can feel the warmth under his palm. For a moment, a minutes or seconds, there is nothing more... but then he feels it... a heartbeat... He knows this heart, he trusts it...

The shape of Shannon melts into dark blonde hair. The blue eyes are looking at him. He trusts those eyes.

"Buck?"

—----------

I felt inspired by s7x07

I have this theory that Kim is not real, she’s only in Eddie’s head (I shared this already).

I mean the first time he sees her she is real (probably - credits to Jimmy for this one), but the interactions where he talks to her (he’s wearing black) are happening in his head. Their meetings are strange, eerie… There is something dangerous about her… and the main thing - only Eddie actually interacts with her.

I’m probably wrong but I have fun with this theory so… this above is just a short story of how I see Eddie losing his mind and Buck bringing him back to reality.

Also posted on AO3

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Aesop's Birthday Gift Is You

I love you grey little mouse!

Rated: Mature | Warnings: none is horny and sweet

Embalmer's room fits his job description and personality, or preference is a better word for it. Everything here is for his craft with a basic small bed by a dark corner to the side wall. Aesop is content, so long as he can work and keep to himself in peace, he is content.

“Happy Valentine's Day, (Name).” He gifted the flowers to you after your impactful words, words he did not expect any living person to care about his work. Your outlook and input are something he did not find many from his time who cares about his profession…

Then you came along like the sunrise upon a grave, another morning shining on all even those who passed. Aesop found you are the sun, blinding and inescapable, warm, and something he did not realize how much he wanted. The Embalmer knows he is… Not the typical partner, the ones he has read in books or seen like Ada and Emil— He is grateful you love him so much, adjusting for his comfort.

You are the sun and he is the earth.

Aesop is limited in how intimate he can be with you (you refuse to say he is limited, you tell him this often and happily take what he gives). He wants to give more, give those things lovers give each other. Aesop appreciates it, appreciates you, it however does not stop him from wanting you to experience his touch without crossing his limits.

Then he found a way! Something you can appreciate and something that satisfies his desire for you.

“Aesop Carl.” You say out loud, “Aesop Carl.” You sound adored right now to him. He puts back the syringe that he used to inject the anesthesia, a slow-acting one to give him time with you.

With glossy eyes currently looking up at the ceiling, “Aesop,” This time saying his first name quickly. “Carl.” Now slowly saying his last name.

Affectionately he adjusts his position to fix the blanket over your body, “Is something the matter?” Checking on you as he stands above the coffin you are lying in.

It is going to be very hard to explain why you are in an open coffin and not dead.

First, this coffin is not the usual coffins Aesop uses for those to be buried, this coffin glows!— Well, it supposedly does more than that from what Hippocampus told you.

Two, part of what one was getting into is that you were asked by Aesop— Hippocampus, an alternate reality version of Aesop (the logistics of that statement is not something you are going to try to understand or explain. Just accept it with this wacky manor)— To sleep in the dream coffin.

“I want your last name.” You saw as waves sooth you, “So pretty.” Blunt, you are very blunt about love, “Aesop…”

“Shh,” You are talking nonsense, “Don't fight it,” The Embalmer's gloved hand touching your cheek, “Go on, I will watch over you.” He means that too.

Anytime he used drugs or toys on you, he made sure to always be mindful of what you could or could not take.

You see him then the world fades away to darkness.

Hippocampus

When you wake up— No, you still are dreaming! You know you are because everything is different! There you stand in the coffin, the coffin disappearing into the water you are standing on. The realm, like some dungeons and dragons scene with the warlock's patron, is dreamlike! The crescent moon high in the sky is surrounded by nebulae and stars! The water ripples making a soothing sound like in those ASMR sleeping meditation videos.

Beautiful and peaceful.

Then you see him.

He looks like the costume you have seen Aesop wear a few times, Hippocampus is what it is called. The figure is—

“Aesop, you're huge!” Shouting in this dream void getting his attention from his drowsy state. He is lying down as eyes lock on you.

“My dreamer,” He yawns, “I am glad to see you.” A sleepy smile on his handsome face, “So he dreams about you in this way.”

“Huh?” You did not look at yourself and when you did look down at your reflection in the water, “AH!” Pulling down his shirt as you are only in your underlings and the Embalmer top he always wears.

Hippocampus chuckles, “Cute.” Though he wears a mask, you know he is smiling gently at you. “No need to be ashamed, I am him and this dream is created for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes, his gift is to express his love for you.” His hand moved towards you and a finger used to rub your cheek, “Our joy, like a shooting star.”

You are bashful, smiling wide and looking away, “Aesop…”

“There are many ways he wishes to give you our gift. You need only to accept.”

“Just accept… But it's his birthday!”

“We are aware. You are the greatest gift in our lives, my dreamer. To give you this, will give us joy.”

It is sweet to know Aesop loves you, he does not always say it but he tries. You are happy with him, in love with him, and glad to know his other selves like you too.

“Dreamer, we offer you a piece of us each.” Speaking once more, “For the love you show Aesop, we only ask this of you to share it with us.”

“Can you tell me who us is?”

“You shall see.” The world becomes hazy and you stumble backward into a coffin before falling asleep again.

Trickster

This one is called Trickster, he is from a world being taken over by something called the Abyss. Apparently, in that world, you were corrupted by the Abyss. Isolating yourself as you created creatures made from the Abyss. You, the one who is only trapped in a manor, is the closest he has seen to the one he loves.

Trickster is a bit emotional, needing to touch your hand or kiss you— A lot of kissing as you are you but not you from this world, not that matters as you give back the affection he needs badly. You hold him, keeping him in your arms as his mouth wanders from your lips to your neck.

Aesop, this Aesop is not like yours, lives up to his codename. Loving you as he does for the other you while also teasing you too. Keeping you breathless from giggling as he tickles you.

He wants your smile, your laugh, your gasps, and your moans fresh in his mind. He will keep this memory of you, the Abyss will not take that away from him.

The naked lover in his arms who says his name in the sweetest way he recalls before that thing took you, this is you, the one he needs to separate from the horror he saw.

“I love you.” Saying to you as if he has to let you go, “I'm sure he does too.” He does have to let you go, the other you is not the same as you… They are tainted, the one he loved died a long time ago.

“It is nice to know in another world you and I still find one another.”

His smile is sad as you fall asleep.

Watchman

When you wake up to this Aesop, you are pretty sure of two things: there are people around the covered bed (one of those fancy beds with curtains around it types) and you are naked. Naked with markings on you. You should ask what the hell is going on, you should not just be letting him worship you, again you are very weak for Aesop.

One with dragon scales is really hot to you.

You moan, and your body feels like more hands are touching you as he whispers strange words on your skin. This is like some Dungeons and Dragons sex tape thing that is doing wonders for you as the moment his mouth is on your intimate part, you are gone! Not to say you are certainly going to be confused about this experience, but you will say the cult dragon thing vibes are having you cum faster than you expected too. Also, you realize the marks and seed left on and in you are gone! It is like Trickster never touched you which hurts but you know why.

All of this is a dream, each Aesop is dreaming of their time with you or a version of you.

You are glad when you feel him inside of you, glad when speaks to you though you understand nothing he is saying. He is not much of a kisser, he kisses like he going to eat you but stops as if realizing he cannot do that. Rough until you show him how to move, his nails are sharp like claws and threaten to cut skin, you biting the scales on his neck gets him going. Oh, and you bite and scratch his back as he moves inside of you, on his lap riding him as he speaks more to you but then you recognize the few words he says.

“I love you.” It is by chance that you cum with him as he tells you those words, you are grateful to cum at those words and with him. His cock buried deep within you marking you as much as he has marked your body.

“Aesop,” You feel tired, “Aesop.”

He shushed you and you realize he is purring and he is warm, you hate how comforting as he rubs your sore thigh while kissing your shoulder apologetically for his bites break skin several times.

The damn you pass out again and with no way to ask what the hell happened outside of semi-dragon sex.

Exorcist

“Welcome, (Name).”

You rub your eyes, blink a few times, then yawn, “Huh? Oh.” Waking up a bit to the smell of warm tea and the sound of wind passing through trees and grass, “This isn’t a bed.” Surprised to see yourself sitting at the tea table at… Night? The crescent moon is high in the sky and the garden is illuminated by lanterns.

“No, my apologies if you were expecting another Aesop to take you.” He is currently pouring himself a cup of tea, “I have not had the pleasure of meeting you yet in my world.”

“Then how do you know me?” Examining the teacup he must have made you while you were phasing in? You are not going to think of the logic of that question/statement.

“I have met you but not in the others have,” Looking at you, studying you, “We have crossed paths in the form of combat.”

Right, because Exorcist is a vampire meaning… “Am I a vampire hunter!?” Excited.

“You are. One working with the church currently trying to find the Embrace.”

“Embrace… That must be like your vampire god, right?”

“In a form yes. Very observant.”

“I guess, I used to play a game where the Embrace was how vampires described their turning and their ‘father’ was Cain or something.” Shrugging, “I don’t understand why you would want to meet someone you do not know uh intimately.”

“Because you, the hunter, have plagued my thoughts night and day.”

You drink your tea has you make a ‘hm’ sound with a bit of a giggle coming from your throat. Those red eyes, his grey eyes with a red tint to them in the center, are studying you. Following how you swallow your tea carefully, then your hands.

“Aesop, please, either kiss me or wake me up this activating a lot of feelings.”

He places his elbows on the table as his hands make a bridge for him to rest his chin on, “Oh?” As if he fucking knows! “Does my other self often stare?”

“Yes, mostly at my face though.” He is an Emblamer so it makes sense he wants to memorize your face within his mind.

“Understandably, you are a sight to see.”

Oh, you definitely giggled which made him laugh at the sweetness of it. You both talked more, mostly him listening to you talking about random things.

When you started to yawn, he took your hand, your left hand, rubbing the place where a ring would be on your ring finger. “Such a lovely creature you are, (Name). Like the sun.”

You close your eyes with a smile on your face.

You open your eyes to Aesop, your grey mouse, checking your vital then falling forward when you snatch him into your arms pulling him into the coffin as you kiss his face a million times.

[laurasblogs-stuff]

TOLERATE IT

(Peeta’s version)

In loving memory of this song being removed from The Eras Tour set list, I'm publishing this little thing I just finished to write. It is technically set after the 74th Hunger Games and during the victory tour, and from Peeta's point of view. Let me know what you think about it, be kind because it's the first time that i write something not in my first language :)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

I sit and watch you reading with your head low

We’re in the living room.

I don’t even know why I came here, I just wanted to bring your family bread, but I should have said no when Prim asked me to stay for dinner.

It isn’t right to have dinner with your family and forcing you to see me when you don’t have to.

Well, I guess it won’t be a problem, you barely lifted your head when I walked in.

You looked at me behind the book you’re pretending to read for half a second, you couldn’t manage to hold the eye contact even while mumbling ‘hi’.

Now I’m sitting on the opposite side of the couch; you’re just staring at the book in your hands and it’s so obvious that you would want to be anywhere but here right now.

I feel like throwing up.

I should have said no.

I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed

I take in a breath so violently that it seems like I was drowning.

I was, in my dream at least. I was underwater, I couldn’t breathe or speak, but the water was so clear that I could see you being mauled by mutts near the lake in the arena. I was trying to scream so hard, to distract them from you, but nothing came out.

I try to not let the tears that are flooding my eyes fall, attempt to adjust my respiration but managing to take just some shaky pathetic breaths.

I feel a weight on my chest: looking down I realize that is your head.

You’re sleeping so peacefully, and I realize you didn’t wake up this night yet.

The thought that I can help you do that makes me want to cry.

Instead, I try to focus on your steady breaths, on your hand that is slowly and involuntarily caressing my rib and on the little smile that is forming on your face.

I sit and watch you

And notice everything you do or don't do

You're so much older and wiser and I

We’re in district three. The last stop at the Capitol is getting closer and tonight you’ve barely eaten anything. I’m watching you dissecting your duck, without even faking to stab it with the fork. Considering that you would never waste food, it is very concerning.

I tentatively tap your knee, thinking I can comfort you, but you shove my hand away.

A fat man with green hair engages me in a conversation and I try to contain my tears while he’s going on about how cute we are together.

Half an hour later, I’m standing in a corner with some red wine in my right hand when I feel a tentative touch on my left wrist.

“Can we sneak out?”

I should say no, I should be mad at you for shutting me out earlier.

I’m resolute to do so, but then I look into your eyes and see pure desperation.

I’m taking too much time to answer, you’ve noticed I’m struggling, and I can see that your bottom lip is starting to tremble, even if slightly.

You’re slowly retracting your hand from my wrist and I really should say no, because I know what sneaking out means with you.

Instead, I grab your hand and lead you away from the crowd.

I wait by the door like I'm just a kid

I feel so stupid waiting here. You always make me wait, don’t you?

Maybe it’s because you know that you will always find me right here.

I know that tonight wasn’t easy for you, we’re just one day away from the Capitol and I shouldn’t blame you for how you’re treating me.

I take a glance at my watch and notice it’s almost midnight.

I feel like that time I was five, maybe four, waiting outside my mother’s room to give her a drawing. I hoped that would make her forgive me for not being able to carry the pans. I remember standing there for hours, with the piece of paper in my right hand and a burning cheek; she never opened the door.

Just as I’m starting to feel my eyes burning, probably because of the lack of sleep, I can hear your footsteps approaching the door.

Use my best colors for your portrait

I know you hate them.

I saw that in your eyes when I showed you my paintings.

I know it was mostly because they reminded you of the arena and your nightmares, but I can say almost for sure that you were not happy about the fact that you were in almost all of them.

I’m perfectly aware that you would hate what I’m working on right now, and I promised myself to never let you see it.

But I can’t help searching for the best colors to use for your hair, trying to imagine what they would look like outside, in the sun.

What colors your eyes would have if you smiled at me as if you really meant it.

Lay the table with the fancy shit

And watch you tolerate it

I’m really trying to make this dinner pleasant for you, I really am.

I know that you hate all of this: this enormous table, the stupid pink cloth on top of it, the unnecessary gold cutlery.

You’re clenching your fist around the knife while some lady with blue hair is explaining to me how they make jewelry here, and I’m listening along just so she won’t bother you.

She’s quite old, and she’s insistent while making me feel her necklace that is sitting just a little too low on her exposed cleavage.

I’m assuming that you’re not even aware of what’s happening when you let the gleaming knife drop on the plate.

The blue haired woman immediately drops my hand while directing her stunned look towards the source of disturbance, but you’re already standing up and dragging me with you on the dancefloor.

While we’re swinging on some soft notes, I brush your hair to the side and put my mouth close to your ear.

“What was that earlier? If you wanted to dance, you could just go.”

My tone is playful, but your expression isn’t when you look up at me. It’s clear that you’re hesitant about what to say, and your cheeks start to veer toward a light red while your brain is searching for the right words to use.

I begin to think that it decided to use no words at all, when I feel your hand slightly brushing my hair before answering me.

“I wanted you just for me.”

I feel the words tickle my neck, and they seem to give me a little more air to breath.

You look up at me just for a millisecond before diverting your eyes again.

“At least for a little while.”

[sheisbeautyweareworldass]

How was the show????

hiiiii

the show itself was sooooo good. he looked so beautiful 🥹 it was insane seeing live the things i’ve seen him doing just in videos for the last 5 years (i’m in the airport rn and i don’t wanna get emotional in the middle of a crowd but yeah !!! sometimes he would something, like that side smirk, and i couldn’t believe he was doing that in front of me and not through a screen). he sounded amazing in every song, but he nailed the high notes in angels fly and his breath control in wayof was incredible. and the crowd !!!!!!!!!!!!! i don’t how it looked on the videos/live, but it was super loud. i was only able to hear him by the end of the greatest (and barely). very loud, excited and people were vibing, dancing and yelling to every song (the only one we didn’t sing loudly along with was chemical, because it’s a new cover).

and you could see how happy he was ????? ofc i’m biased but he truly looked like he was having the time of his life, specially in songs like the greatest, because it was the opening, kmm, because it’s reminiscent of walls, and hoth, because it’s a crowd fave (i can’t stress enough how loud everyone sang this song, i think i dissociated in the next one because i was trying to get over what just had happened 😭), and waoyf, because it’s a slutty song for a slutty country! he also looked so proud and that’s how i found out i craved the validation of an english man… i noticed what he meant when he said shows here are about everyone enjoying the music and not only specific groups of people, because everywhere you looked people were vibing.

barricade was INSANE. we were so lucky no one got hurt because the entire premium pit was moving fast in the direction he went, in every direction you can imagine. i obviously wasn’t able to touch him (if i had i would be here to tell the story), but i could see him and he’s so beautiful. i can’t get over it. half of the things i said last night were various of pretty. i love him. i’m afraid me and parasocial relationship are soooo back.

i gotta be honest, i don’t get how people go to his show and pay attention to anything but him. the only time i noticed his band was when they entered the stage because the show was late and we were all waiting for them 😭 once was louis showed up, i had eyes for no one else and i didn’t want to look at anyone else. that being said, i think they had fun too. there was a moment the light was on steve and he was laughing loudly at isaac o michael and vice-versa.

giant rooks was also great! i’ll have to listen to their setlist for saturday because their performance live was top notch and the stage presence was insane.

that’s not to say things were perfect… they opened the gates later than they should and did everything in their power to slow down. then giant rooks’ started late and louis missed the time for about 20 minutes. i also tripped and scrapped harshly both of my knees and lightly my elbow and spent the entire show bleeding….. but as val said, nothing more me than hurting my knees for louis <3

tldr: louis pretty crowd loud aly injured

[iminlovewpaigebueckers]

First post 🤗🤗!

Caitlin Clark HC !

NSFW at the end!!

• Touchy asfff. This woman has to touch you at alllll times

• has a whole photo album dedicated to you with 100+ pictures

• her locks creen is a picture of you and her kissing at your one year anniversary

• Has a necklace with your initials and you have one with hers

• Always teaches you things about Basketball or any sport that she likes

• Always mentions you in interviews no matter what. She always finds some way to include you

• She’s an absolute morning person. Some times she wakes up at like 6 in the morning

• always makes TikToks with you. Like you two did that one trend “guess which outfit is who’s” and it was so obvious.

• She makes you wear her jersey to everyyy game

• She acts like she hates it when you steal her clothes but deep down she loves it on you

• always hands her hand on your thigh, no matter where you guys are. (regarding the first hc)

• Whenever you’re sick or on your period, she pays full attention to you. Need anything? She drops everything to go get it for you. (vice versa)

• Always includes you in team hangouts, movie nights, dinners, etc

• you guys definitelyyyy have a pet that you call your kid. definitely a dog

• Hates to play Fortnite with you because you’re better than her (she just won’t admit it)

•you’re definitely the passenger princesss

• Always surprising you with Flowers, Jewelry, candy, etc.

• ^ One time you showed her a purse that you really wanted and the next day it was sitting on the bed with flowers and candy with a little note that read “Just because I love you”

• Always trying to make dinner for you two but fucks up terriblyyy

• Pet names galoreee.

• ^ loves calling you baby, princess, ma, etc

• ^ you call her CC, cait, baby, babe, etc

• the team be calling you guys simps because you guys are so down bad for each other

• The team is like your second family, you live them all so much

NSFW

• lovessss when you ride her face, thighs, fingers, abs, etc

• definitely not a strap girly. You two only used it once and it wasn’t for you guys.

• sometimes you guys get carried away and leave hickeys or marks which the team teases you all dayy about

• Cait is definitely a too could not see her as a bottom.

• Cait always has to have control

• you sometimes take control after she’s had a bad game or won a game

• cait is a munchhhhhh. Will stay in between your legs for hourssss

• You guys definitely have a safe word because caitlin cannot stopp

• your safe word is definitely basketball because cait insisted on it

• Always says dirty comments into your ears at important dinners/events

• you two once did it in the bathroom of a restaurant and it was so bad because everyone could tell

• cait LOVESSS overstimulation (another reason why you two have a safe word)

• loves to leave hickeys where only she can see them 🤭

• sometimes leaves hickeys on your neck and tells you to leave them alone; don’t cover them

• movie nights with her ALWAYSS turn into fuck sessions so at this point, you guys don’t even waste time looking for a good movie

• Head game goes crazyyyyyy

• Will make you cum until tears roll down your face and you’re begging for her to stop

• starts off slow and teasingly then goes fast asff

• you guys definitely have a dirty inside joke

• one time she said a dirty joke in the locker room and jada, gabbie, and kate immediately called you to tell you you were getting lucky that night

• Loves when you sit on her face.

• Takes pictures that only you two could see

• loves when you send her nudes

•you love when she sends you nudes

……. ……. ……. ……. ……. ……. ……. ……. ……. ……. …….

tysm for reading!!

[unhetalia]

soft usuk headcanon where america just hugs england after having a bad day or even nightmare.

This is a holdover from childhood. Arthur wasn't there a lot, but when he was, Alfred asked for hugs all the time. One time Alfred fell out of a tree and was just about to brush it off when he saw Arthur was beside himself. He quickly realised that it was not normal to fall out of trees and feel nothing, so he quickly turned on the waterworks so Arthur would hold him. Free hug!

(It fucks up his relationship with affection, this belief that there needs to be a Legitimate Reason in order to receive gentleness or love, but that's not what this is about!)

Nowadays, it's more complicated than that for Alfred. Americans aren't a high contact culture, and while I don't believe in Nations always being the embodiment of their countries' ideologies, when you're living amongst people who have a certain way of interacting, it absolutely has an impact, same as for any human.

As a result, Alfred is someone who is a little bit touch-starved. I think he wants more contact than he's able to get from the people around him. His best friend is an alien, his other best friend is fucking KIKU. The only one of his close friends who is affectionate is the Philippines (who in my head is named 'Liwanag Dalisay', and called Ning Ning by her friends), and unfortunately, because they're both unattached - for now - and opposite gender friends, it's not something they can linger on.

Arthur, on the other hand, isn't lacking in physical contact, if you know what I mean. He's traced every curve of a woman's body; held a man down and fucked them until they begged. He's been clung to, held tight, clawed in passion.

But Arthur rarely touches people when he's not fucking them - hasn't been touched by someone who wants affection, or is offering it to him.

The first time Alfred hugged Arthur to seek out comfort post-independence was in 1950. Alfred had come out of World War II incredibly jaded - it was only the third time he'd ever revealed himself to and worked with his government, and they'd gone behind his back and dropped two atom bombs. Alfred left after, though President Truman had tried his best to get him to stay, promising him that because of what they'd done, there would be no more wars.

Five year later, the U.S enters the Korean War. Alfred is with Arthur when he hears the news, and to say he's gutted would be an understatement. He must've looked devastated, because Arthur moves to stand in front of him and makes to put a hand on his shoulder. Instead, Alfred just... falls into him, face in his chest, holding him tightly and crying his heart out. Arthur is stumped for a minute before he wraps his arms around Alfred, starts shushing him like he's a child again. Telling him it's going to be okay.

Alfred would lie awake that night thinking about how different Arthur felt from when he was a child; how, in fact, being held by Arthur in that moment hadn't felt like his childhood at all. Alfred doesn't quite realise it's because he's in love with Arthur, but he learns - or re-learns - the power of physical affection.

This lesson impacts Arthur because not only does Alfred begin seeking him out for comfort (which stops him in his tracks every time), he offers that same comfort without prompting.

Arthur is seething during a meeting after receiving several ridiculous reports, and yes, he's shouting and terrifying everyone, especially Antonio, who is very aware Arthur still carries a sword around, when suddenly Alfred stands up, marches towards him, and pulls him into a hug and says "chill out, dude, everything's gonna be fine!"

The world watches Arthur almost physically deflate. When Alfred pulls away and walks back to his seat, Arthur will finally take a deep breath. "Well... it's not the end of the world, I guess. We'll need to rearrange a few things, but it's fixable."

Witnessing this, everyone decides that it doesn't matter that their relationships don't reflect the geopolitical climate: Alfred truly is a superpower.

[Note: All my headcanons unless states otherwise exist in a universe where Hetalia characters are independent of their government. Their roles are to protect the land and the people, and often this requires them to work against their governments. Despite Nations being a representative of a country, their work to protect the land and people goes beyond boarders, and while Nations have personal relationships that involve liking and disliking others, this does not impede on their work and is not tied to their country's politics.]

[chrollohearttags]

everything that could go wrong today has and I’m just ready to call it quits for this year while I’m ahead. Not even going to try anymore.