#the devil wears her heart on her sleeve

[cheesytoucans]

A Loving Analysis of Charlie Morningstar

While I realize that this might be premature, and that Charlie will undoubtedly continue to change and grow as more seasons come out, I cannot help but look at her character as it stands now. Even in this state of prematurity I’ve found her and the themes that she represents to be extremely compelling and she seems to me to be very misunderstood or at the least not looked at enough in terms of her character.

I do not think it’s a stretch to say that Charlie is, at her core, a living embodiment of the themes of love, redemption, and forgiveness, that the show is trying to portray and the pain that she goes through attempting to instill this upon others has been nothing short of heartbreaking to me. 

So here’s something that’s way too long and self indulgent but that I had no choice but to write anyway, broken down into helpful little sections to hopefully be at least a little bit cohesive. 

Guilt: 

It’s clear to me that the guilt that Charlie feels for being hellborn and therefore having access to power and resources that most others in Hell do not brings her nothing but shame and agony. This is all something that we need to interpret based on her body language and actions as it’s never something that she would come right out and say but I do think that it’s a major aspect of her character that stuck out to me when I first watched the series. 

There’s a moment very early on that sticks out to me in episode one. Lute talks about how Charlie and her hellborn kind are pardoned from the extermination by Lucifer and then asks her the question: “How does that feel? To know how little you matter.” Charlie is speechless and then has some amazing body language that really epitomizes these feelings of guilt she has. 

I think it’s important to note here that expressions like this are very rare for Charlie. There’s something to be said about the ways in which she seems to hide her uglier emotions. The horns only seem to come out when she’s extremely angry and even then they’re a blink and you miss it kind of reaction. She’s so good at pulling her anger back that we don’t even see that tail of hers until someone dies.

Even the times we see her cry in the series are either for emotions like love, like when Angel forgave her for crashing the studio, or she very quickly attempts to cover them up when she’s actually in distress like with Vaggie in the last episode. Even when she cries when Pentious dies she’s immediately covering her eyes and then hastily replacing those emotions with anger and even though that’s also an emotion she seems to try and hide she also appears to be more ok with that one showing when it comes to the safety of her family. So rarely is her genuine distress on full display, she doesn’t even want to show it to Vaggie of all people when they’re alone in the hallway. Appearing to be strong and put together even when she’s dying inside and just wants to break down seems to be very normal for her. 

So when we see these emotions from her genuinely on display I think it says a lot about how she’s feeling, that she’s so lost in her own trauma that she can’t even remember to try and hide it. At first there’s a look of anger at Lute, like she’s trying to remain the intimidating princess of Hell who needs to convince these people at all costs and she cannot look weak.

And then that mask breaks and there’s a look of genuine shock on her face, like she can’t believe that someone just said that to her. And this is not shock in the context of contempt or anger, this is a painful kind of shock where she has been truly hurt by those words but doesn’t want to believe that someone would be so cruel so casually. 

I’d like to pause here and remark that we’ve seen just how Charlie reacts when people are mean to her friends. We’ve seen those horns come out and eyes turn red when Angel is thrown around by Valentino, and she didn’t even get to see the worst of it. We can speculate all day about what she would have done if Angel hadn’t stopped her but I think that’s less important in this context. What matters is that she was driven to the point of true unfiltered rage at her friend being threatened and we need to remember that it’s a lot for Charlie to do that, the last thing she wants to do is throw around her power and hurt people. 

However, this anger is not extended to her own safety. The only time that demonic anger flares up here with Adam and Lute is right after the line: “so give up your dumb endeavor, cause you don’t have a shot.” Charlie is more angry at the mention of her dreams being seen as stupid than she is at Lute insulting her person and even then those horns are gone in a flash.

Lute telling her that she doesn’t matter just brings her pure and unadulterated sorrow that cuts so deep she can’t even say a word to defend herself. The guilt is so absolutely all encompassing for her that it only brings pain, anger seems the furthest thing from her mind.

Finally though, after the shock has passed and Charlie seems to process what Lute has said, she starts to frantically glance around the room which could be read in a few different ways. To me though it always came off like she was desperately looking for an out. Kind of in the same way an animal might start looking around the room for an escape route. I think she has been so hurt by what Lute said, the guilt has started to worm its way up her soul, that for a second she is genuinely considering bolting from the room, even if it’s just on a subconscious level and she doesn’t actively think that thought. 

This could also be read as her no longer being able to make eye contact because of just how much this hurt her which I think is also a valid interpretation considering how much both physical contact and eye contact seem to matter to Charlie. This is also something we can see in the last episode when she and Vaggie have their duet. Charlie is very reluctant to make eye contact until Vaggie comforts her with physical touch. She glances towards her once at the beginning when Vaggie first starts to sing but then quickly looks away again. She only maintains eye contact after Vaggie touches her cheek and Charlie grabs onto her arm, signifying just how much Vaggie is soothing her with the song. 

Lastly, after the shock and the pain have permeated her, she begins to curl into herself, her arms subtly coming closer to her chest and her shoulders sinking in. This is of course a classic way that we self sooth. I don’t think she realizes she’s doing it as most people probably don’t but bringing your arms closer to yourself is instinctual to protect your chest and therefore your heart when you’re feeling threatened. Doing so can make us feel safer since we feel like we’re taking steps to protect ourselves.

Charlie is feeling so threatened and hurt by this one line that she is desperately trying to make herself feel better in any way she can. Just the thought of her getting a free pass on death while her people live in fear of true absolute death at the hands of Heaven is enough to make her feel so much guilt that even all of her love and kindness does not save her. It makes her begin to spiral into her own thoughts and she’s only pulled out of it by the distraction from Adam that they don’t have much time left and if she doesn’t convince him of the hotel now she’ll miss her chance. 

This is just one moment from episode one but these feelings of guilt continue to color her actions into the series and I can only assume before that as well. The sadness that Charlie hides from the world is always there and I don’t think it’s about to go away anytime soon, just like I don’t think her survivor's guilt is going to go away even as people start to get redeemed. I don’t want this to come off though like Charlie’s actions are any worse just because they’re fueled partly by this guilt. 

At the end of the day the fact of the matter is that Charlie is doing an immense amount of good. She may have no idea what she’s doing half the time and it may go completely wrong and take a lot of different winding paths but the journey she’s on is a good one. Someone just needs to try and it may not be perfect but I don’t think it’ll ever be, even after she finds out that she’s actually been able to redeem someone. The important thing is that someone, anyone, is standing up for those who have nothing and defying a deeply unjust system that everyone follows because of a learned helplessness and a true lack of autonomy. 

Charlie’s reasons for doing what she does can only really hurt herself as she doesn’t really seem to care for herself at the best of times and instead runs off to continue to help others. She’s in desperate need of a break and someone to talk to about her feelings of immense guilt and her fear of being abandoned but unfortunately, the ones who she should be able to talk to are partly the problem to begin with.  

Mommy and Daddy:

We can make all the jokes in the world about Charlie's mommy and daddy issues, and believe me I have, but the way her parents have treated her has made a huge impact on her personality. We don’t really know exactly how Lilith treated her daughter growing up so we don’t have much choice but to make some assumptions here. I do think it’s safe to say that an adult who runs off on their own child for years on end when they’re in desperate need of a stable, loving, guiding hand in life can only be described as indifferent at best and down right neglectful at worst and frankly I do not care how old Charlie is because she clearly needs her mother. Age should not be the deciding factor on the amount of love a parent gives their own child. 

What we do know about how Lilith has impacted Charlie seems to manifest in much smaller and subtle ways. We know that Lilith was the one to inspire Hell when Heaven came knocking and we can assume that this penchant for rebellion was passed down to Charlie, albeit in what I can only assume to be a vastly different tone. When it comes down to it though, we know that Charlie desperately wants to believe that Lilith must be doing something important and that in turn must mean that she has Charlie’s best intentions in mind. I have my doubts as to whether or not this is true but for right now we can only speculate. 

When it comes to her father he clearly loves her with a passion that I rarely see with men in media (though if you find that to be an interesting character trait I would recommend you read a Justin Cronin book, specifically The Ferryman, as his depictions of love and anguish a man can have towards a daughter immediately came to mind when watching More Than Anything for the first time. I’d also recommend Salvage This World by Michael Farris Smith for the same reasons.) but it’s also difficult for me to forget about the impact that his neglect and then sudden return to Charlie’s life had on her. 

I do not in any way think that Lucifer is overall a bad father but rather that the mistakes he’s made have had a direct impact on Charlie’s world views both for the better and the worse. At the end of the day I find him to be a very realistic and complex father who loves his daughter but just truly does not know what to say to her, which is amusing in its own right considering he’s the actual devil but that’s just part of the show’s charm in my opinion. All of this to say that his neglect of her has led to a good chunk of her character flaws. One of the biggest being her constant need for love and validation. 

This is something that I don’t think we’re really going to see in full for a while but I do think it’s still pertinent now, especially with the major character drama that we see between Lucifer and Alastor. Charlie is the kind of person who just wants to see the good in people. She wants to believe that everyone has the best intentions and can be reasoned with if she just finds the right words to say. At the same time she carries an immense amount of power both literally and from a political standpoint. Having Charlie on your side could mean a huge leg up in whatever it is you’re trying to accomplish. 

Alastor is what I can only lovingly call a master manipulator. He took one look at Charlie and saw someone who was incredibly driven but also incredibly kind and knew that he could use that for his own gain. While we don’t yet know exactly what he wants from her we do know how he’s going to get it and we see that in song form during Hell’s Greatest Dad. 

To Alastor Lucifer is a threat to his hold on Charlie. If Charlie becomes too close to her father that could mean that he might recognize Alastor’s manipulation for what it is and take Alastor completely out of the picture, in whatever form he sees fit. This leads to their fight in episode 5 where Alastor uses both Lucifer’s guilt at his neglect of his daughter as well as Charlie’s need for love against them at the same time. 

Charlie states that while she and Lucifer are not exactly on bad terms, they’ve never really been close and I think it’s clear from the very beginning just how that’s affected her. There’s this sort of deep loneliness and anxiety that seems to come out of Charlie from time to time. For all her attempts at showcasing love and positivity to anyone and everyone who comes within a square mile of her, she can’t help but let it slip from time to time just how difficult things can be for her. 

Her mother and father never being around has led her to believe that she needs to do anything and everything on her own but at the same time she needs to be told that what she’s doing isn’t stupid or useless. She has never once had her ideas be proven true. She’s run into so much opposition that at this point it’s a miracle that she continues to try at all. This would be difficult for anyone but for someone who loves as deeply as she does it’s a continual deep cut into her psyche that she tries to patch at any opportunity. 

The look of complete happiness and relief on Charlie’s face when Alastor says that they’re so proud of her for what she’s accomplished is enough to make a bystander feel for her, let alone her own father standing right there. Alastor of course knows this and uses this information to try and keep the favor on him and not Lucifer. Charlie and her father do manage to have a very sweet moment in More Than Anything and while it’s not enough to totally repair their relationship it’s certainly a start.

I’d like to draw special attention to More Than Anything and specifically the body language from Charlie during the line: “I’ll shelter and adore you more than anything.” This entire time Charlie has been desperately trying to get Lucifer to take her seriously. It’s clear that he is protective to a fault where he is so terrified of Charlie making the same mistakes that he did that he will not allow Charlie to even try at all. 

But to Charlie Lucifer is where her need to fight for her dreams came from in the first place. Lilith may have inspired the rebellion in her but it was Lucifer championing free will above all that got her to start dreaming of something better. Something where people don’t have to fight and can instead work on just being better people. 

So when Lucifer grabs her and pulls her in, talking about how he will shelter her from all the wrongs in the world, Charlie puts her hand on his arm in a gesture that always seemed to me like she was about to push him away. She doesn’t want him to baby her, all she wants from him is to support her and be with her while she works towards her dreams. 

We need to remember just how long Charlie has been on her own. Even when Lilith was around it appears like her father wasn’t in the picture much. The separation from Lilith just seems to have made that fracture even deeper. Even with all of that though, even after being abandoned and then babied by her father, she still wants him around and makes a genuine attempt to connect with him for the first time in a long time with this song. Charlie just loves so much and feels so deeply that she cannot forsake her father even with everything that’s happened. 

It is love that defines Charlie and to love someone means to forgive them. 

Redemption and love:

What exactly does it take to redeem someone? What makes them worthy of that redemption in the first place? Is it naive to believe that love and forgiveness can drag a person back from the darkness even when everyone and everything is constantly trying to pull them back? 

One of my favorite aspects of the show is its overall themes of redemption and the ways that Charlie encompasses those themes. This is one of the biggest aspects of Charlie’s character that I think gets glossed over too much and I want to highlight just how much I think that this part of her character is not in any way something to demean. I find this often in fiction that features characters like Charlie. It must say something about how we view emotions like love and forgiveness and kindness to look at someone who constantly and unconditionally champions such things to others and ask: “Why are you so naive to think that something like that is even possible? Are you so stupid that you think that’ll actually work?” 

I’d like to be clear that I do indeed think it’s naive to assume that something as complex as “redemption” can be brought about just by cleaning up your act and role playing your middle school DARE program with all your friends in your living room. You know and I know that we cannot make amends for all of our wrong doings by pretending they aren’t there anymore. This is especially true when, for a lot of the cast, these so called “wrong doings” exist because of systemic issues that they simply cannot escape from. Angel cannot just walk away from everything that keeps him both literally and metaphorically chained to Valentino and the very act of being chained to such a monster has caused him to spiral down into any sort of reprieve that he could possibly get his hands on, even when such things may be making everything so much worse in the long run. 

That being said though, while I understand that the ways in which she goes about seeking redemption for her people may be naive on the surface, at their core I believe that the emotions and intentions that power these actions are nothing short of admirable. It’s truly a test of your soul to look at the worst that humanity has to offer and still say that they are deserving of love. As Lucifer so aptly puts it: “They got gifted free will and look at what they did with it!” To Lucifer they could have done anything with that free will and all it got them in the end was a trip straight to Hell where they proceeded to learn nothing and be nothing more than exactly what they were on Earth. 

To Charlie though, a person is not defined by their sins. Not only that but their sins do not in any way mean that they deserve an eternity of suffering or that they should be brutally slaughtered by the very ones who claim that this is just how things are meant to be. Charlie will look at someone who ten minutes ago was trying to kill her, who has done nothing with their afterlife but bring about more suffering and destruction and does not see, or just does not care about the hurt they have caused, and she will offer them true forgiveness and love for the first time in a long time, maybe in forever. 

And I really, really want to stress here that coming from Charlie this love and forgiveness is truly unconditional. The only thing that Charlie requires is that you want it. If you ask for forgiveness it’s yours in a heartbeat.

This of course can absolutely be detrimental to her and we see this in just how much she wants to trust Alastor even when both the audience and Charlie herself can see just what a bad idea this is. Charlie just hopes deep down that in the end he will accept the love that she’s giving him and maybe that’ll mean he will try for her just like Sir Pentious decided to finally stop fighting and start trying. It of course remains to be seen whether or not his character arc will follow anything of the sort but I remain hopeful for Charlie’s sake as well as his own.

As I said at the beginning though Charlie is truly the living embodiment of the themes that the show is trying to portray. In the absence of a God or a religion that is offering unconditional love the devil’s daughter offers it instead. While Adam and the angels want to act like heaven is just and kind while simultaneously committing atrocities on those that they view as lesser, Charlie says it doesn’t matter what they have to say about you, I still love you. 

I find this to be fascinating in that Charlie is the antithesis to a lot of toxic fundamental religious beliefs that want to say that God’s love is unconditional but then proceed to pile on condition after condition until you’re not sure just how many of these rules you’ve already broken by the time you’ve had breakfast for the day. Charlie is of course not a God and she makes mistake after mistake in her endeavors. She has a tendency to get too excited and rush off without thinking. Sometimes she gets foot in mouth syndrome and doesn’t think about how her words might hurt people like Angel or Vaggie who are trying their best but tend to fumble because of their own self worth issues.

But at the end of the day I think the beauty of her love comes in its simplicity. She does not need complicated rules and conditions for it to be meaningful. It is meaningful because it’s pure love for those with no love for themselves, with nothing asked for in return, and it does not need the catalyst of God or religion. It’s love that comes from deep down in her soul and she doesn’t even require you to love her back for her to fight for you, she’d do it regardless. 

That’s part of why I think Sir Pentious and his redemption work so well. Truly all that was needed of him was love. This is something that I don’t think will work on everyone because of the aforementioned systemic issues but for people like Pentious all he really needed was to be loved and love someone back. Seemingly he has spent his entire afterlife fighting turf wars and marking out territory and trying to earn respect through violence and the only love that he’s had has been artificially created by himself with the eggs boys.

It makes perfect sense to me then that when he has finally had enough, when he’s at his absolute lowest and is ready to be killed for every single horrible thing he’s ever done in this afterlife, Charlie puts a stop to it with a single sentence: “It starts with sorry.” Because to apologize requires humility and humility requires you to truly care about the people you’ve hurt. To allow yourself to put your pride aside and say that you’re sorry even when it’s difficult for you to do so is a test of love that a lot of us struggle with. It’s not easy to make yourself so vulnerable like that but Pentious allowing himself to feel those emotions opened the door for him to accept the love that Charlie was offering and in turn learn to love others. 

After that moment with Charlie, Pentious proceeds to make incredible strides with his emotions and comes to care for the residents of the hotel in his own way. He cares for Nifty at the club, cries when Charlie reconnects with her father, pets KeeKee on the couch, and flirts with Cherri in his own genuine and nervous way (also as a side note I’d like to say that the line from Husk that Pentious watches the residents sleep sometimes was probably meant to come off as mostly kind of creepy and amusing, I found it to also be sweet in the sense that I read it as the way that a parent might watch a child sleep to ensure they were still breathing, sort of a “please don’t leave me now that I finally have you” sort of thing.)

I don’t think him kissing Cherri and confessing his love at the end was in any way the only deciding factor to his redemption but I do think it was a good exclamation point at the end of his emotional journey. It was proof once and for all that he was finally okay being seen as vulnerable. He was allowing himself to actually feel and love the emotion of love instead of being scared that it would make him weak and open to attack from others. Telling someone you love them requires trust, it requires you to believe that them and those around them will not hurt you and I think at the end Pentious finally accepts all of this. He has taken the love that Charlie gave him and amplified it and put it back out into the world to maybe do a little good for once and that right there is what I think made him qualified for redemption, it just needed a little love. 

So ultimately Charlie may not consciously understand what exactly gets someone redemption but she sure did land on it by accident. She gave Pentious the tools to fuel his own redemption whether she realized it or not because all he needed was for someone to try for him. He could have taken Charlie’s mercy and ran back off into Hell to continue to do what he’s been doing this entire time and keep hurting others in the process but he didn’t. He needed someone to actually care about him and give him love, he needed Charlie, but not only that, he needed the security and friendship of the rest of the hotel. Even when Charlie is not there she has given them all a place that they can be okay in. Even if it’s not perfect and shit always seems to be going down, even with Alastor’s ulterior motives, that hotel is still the safest place any of them have had in a long long time. 

Vaggie: 

On the topic of love and the simplicity of Charlie’s, I would be remiss to not talk about Vaggie and her relation to Charlie now. I have to say to start that I honestly find the people who talk about their relationship as if they have no chemistry or “they feel like friends and not girlfriends” to be extremely amusing to me. While I understand that their relationship dynamic may not be everyone’s cup of tea, I also think it’s just inherently incorrect to say that they’re poorly written or don’t feel as though they’re actually dating. 

Just as a personal indulgence I would like to interject and say that while I get that a lot of people want their fictional relationships to be messy and have drama my crusty old self personally loves the biblical levels of beautiful tragedy that Charlie and Vaggie have going on and I find their subtle, comforting love to be very cathartic to me. Just the idea of love between a fallen angel and the devil’s daughter is enough to get me interested and then add on the fact that the angel is fallen because she showed mercy to a single one of the princess’s people and they just love each other so much and would do anything for each other, makes me go feral, but I digress. 

I want everyone to keep in mind what I’ve said about Charlie’s love so far while talking about Vaggie. Remember simple and remember unconditional, those are the two fundamentals of Charlie’s love that are constantly on display with Vaggie. I find it very remarkable just how much the body language between Vaggie and Charlie exhibits the love and comfort that the two have for each other especially in a medium like animation where every flick of the eye and turn of the mouth and hand gesture is another cut that someone out there needs to draw. That tells me that there was significant effort put forth to show a couple like Charlie and Vaggie who have been together for years and know exactly what to expect while also making sure that their love was simultaneously not downplayed or inadvertently exploited for sex appeal. It’s a very fine line to walk but I feel as though the show did a very good job of it all. 

There are so many tiny little moments throughout just about every single episode of the season that have body language showing the love that Charlie and Vaggie share. Just from the first episode alone there’s Charlie sliding over on the couch just to lean on Vaggie’s legs. There’s Vaggie cupping Charlie’s cheek while she tells her she has faith in her dream. There’s the small soft look that Vaggie gives Charlie when Charlie grabs her hands at the beginning of Happy Day in Hell. 

Even putting aside body language for a second there’s also the way that Vaggie tries to continue to make the commercial with Charlie gone even though it means she ends up having to work with Alastor who she hates specifically because she doesn’t trust him around Charlie. There’s also how Charlie is hesitant to tell Vaggie at first that Adam didn’t listen to her because she doesn’t want to let her down when she believes so much in Charlie. 

I also really like their little character drama in episode three because I think it really exemplifies just how trusting they are in their relationship while also highlighting their character flaws at the same time. Charlie is so trusting of Vaggie that she’s willing to let Vaggie take over in their daily lessons even when this inevitably backfires. I’ve seen a few people think Charlie was doing this to use her girlfriend or be mean to her but frankly that couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

While things did eventually go south and Vaggie had a difficult time thinking that she was failing Charlie I think it’s important to remember Charlie’s intentions with asking Vaggie to take over in the first place. In no way did Charlie do that to see Vaggie fail, it’s just that Charlie has such unwavering trust in Vaggie’s opinion and really does believe that she has skills that she herself lacks that Vaggie can bring to the table. It’s easy to forget sometimes but Charlie really does have some pretty impressive emotional intelligence. She just tends to run off without thinking a lot of the time and get carried away but when she allows herself to step back and look at a situation she’s very understanding of how exactly her actions are affecting people. 

Charlie recognizes pretty quickly that Vaggie is having a hard time with this and attempts to step in and take back control but Vaggie is stubborn in her desire to prove herself to Charlie. Vaggie thinks that if she lets Charlie take over again that she’ll have failed her and Charlie might see her as useless to the hotel. Of course Charlie would never think that and once again I must reiterate that Charlie’s love is unconditional. It does not matter to Charlie that Vaggie was unable to immediately get everyone to be best friends, setting aside the fact that it actually did work in the end, all that matters to Charlie is that her and Vaggie work together and are there for each other no matter what. 

Charlie was just frustrated that things weren’t as simple as she hoped and Vaggie was frustrated that she couldn’t fix it. Both of them recognize this mistake by the end of the episode and acknowledge the need for them to be a team even when things are hard and neither of them have an answer. 

All of this combines together over the season to portray a couple who love each other but who are adults long since removed from a honeymoon phase where they can’t keep their hands off each other. This doesn’t mean they don’t still love each other and it doesn’t mean they’re not loving on each other behind closed doors, it just means they’re comfortable and understand each other. 

Not only that but I think it also exemplifies what I’ve been saying about Charlie’s love: it’s simple and that’s a good thing. To Charlie, loving Vaggie is easy. To Charlie Vaggie is a constant that has been there for years who loves her and would never hurt her or betray her. The only one who has stood there and supported her while her Mother runs off to god knows where and her Father isolates himself with his depression. Vaggie supported the hotel when everyone this side of Hell and up to Heaven thought she was an idiot dreamer who didn’t know when to quit.

To Vaggie, Charlie is the unconditional love that she never had in Heaven. Someone who quite literally picked her up while she was dying and put her back on her feet and loved her regardless of the fact that Charlie had no idea who she really was and honestly I’m not even sure that mattered to Charlie one bit. She trusted Vaggie to not hurt her and have her best intentions in mind just like she trusts everyone else around her to do the same and time and time again Charlie was proven right when Vaggie never left while she undoubtedly soothed a bit of Charlie’s fear of abandonment by never leaving her side. 

And to Charlie that was enough. She doesn’t need huge grand gestures from Vaggie, she just needs her to be there and help her. It’s love and it’s simple because it’s Charlie. 

Of course it all inevitably comes crashing down as it’s revealed that Vaggie has been lying this entire time. I don’t want to come off like I blame Vaggie for what she did. Frankly I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the exact same thing in the same situation. The more that time passed and Charlie and her fell deeper in the love the harder it would have been to just come out and say it. The time to be honest would have passed months and months ago and now she’s just forced to completely live the lie as we can tell by how she barely reacts when Adam shows up at their door in Heaven. I think a part of her was so deep in this lie that even the presence of him and the lady that straight up maimed her doesn’t cause her to lose composure until he makes it clear that he definitely remembers who she is. 

Vaggie also has very little besides Charlie. She has dedicated herself so fully to Charlie and what she wants that to lose her would have been a blow to her soul so severe I’m not sure she would have recovered. I do think there’s something to be said about Vaggie’s dependency on Charlie and how that fueled this lie to begin with. If Vaggie had other support systems then it’s possible that she wouldn’t have felt the need to hold onto this lie for so long and I think we can see that in the way that she immediately tells the others in the hotel after they get back from Heaven. Whether she likes it or not they have become an extension of her family too and not just Charlie’s. Of course it’s obviously a lot easier to tell them because she’s not nearly as emotionally attached to them as she is to Charlie but I do still think that being able to tell someone at all is a step forward for her and most likely helped her better come to terms with it. 

Unfortunately while I understand all that, just like with Lucifer, we have to be honest about the ways in which this affects Charlie as a character. As I said before I really don’t think it mattered to Charlie one bit who Vaggie really was. If Charlie had known about who Vaggie was from the beginning, knowing who Charlie is as a person, I think she would have been livid at the way that Heaven treated one of their own but I don’t think in any way would she have hated Vaggie or blamed her for what happened.

Even so, everyone needs their own time and space to cope with such intense revelations about people. If Vaggie was going to tell Charlie the truth after so many years the only way to do it and even remotely soothe any of the grief and shock Charlie would have felt would have been to do it in private very quietly and then give Charlie the space to try and come to terms with it.

Regrettably that is most definitely not how Charlie found out. Instead she found out in probably the worst possible setting at probably the worst possible time. Forced instead to deal with the horror of it all while in Heavenly court of all places, out of the mouth of the man who had a hand in casting her own Mother and Father to Hell. Humiliating both Charlie and Vaggie in a desperate attempt to shift some of the heat off of them for admitting to genocide. 

With all that though, Charlie still doesn’t blame Vaggie. She would have every reason to hate Vaggie after this but that would also go against everything that Charlie stands for. So that just leads Charlie to instead blame herself. Instead of blaming Vaggie for lying to her, Charlie just asks herself what is so wrong with her that she’s unable to be trusted. Instead of hating Vaggie she just hates herself. This causes Charlie to spiral down a bad mental path where the fear of abandonment from her parents and her need for validation rear their ugly head. 

If the one person who has stood by Charlie’s side this entire time doesn’t even believe in her then who does? The woman she’s loved for years and has trusted with everything from dark secrets to petty grievances doesn’t even trust her enough to tell her who she really is and what actually happened to her. Charlie is terrified that Vaggie doesn’t think she’s worthy of this secret. In that moment of pain she fears that she’s not worthy of the same unconditional love that she has given everyone else this entire time because she thinks that Vaggie must think there are conditions to her love. That Vaggie thinks Charlie will not love her if she knows she used to be an exorcist is all that runs through Charlie’s head. 

Deep down I think these are worries that Charlie has relatively often. She doubts herself immensely and uses her love of others as a way to fill the hole in her own heart but so far these worries were unfounded with Vaggie. To have them suddenly come true is like having your worst fears validated to you and Charlie is so lost in her own grief that she doesn’t stop to think why Vaggie would have done this in the first place. This causes her to lash out at Vaggie and accuse her of keeping even more secrets when deep down Charlie probably just wants to break down and beg Vaggie to love her anyway even when she’s the one unworthy of love. Just in the same way she probably wants to beg her Mother to come back and love her again. 

Fortunately for all of us Rosie is able to swoop in and help Charlie realize what she knew all along deep down but was in too much pain to admit to: that Vaggie wanted to tell her this whole time but was deeply ashamed of the things she had done. It would have gone against everything that Charlie and her hotel stood for to not forgive her and this is seemingly before Charlie even knows the real reason that Vaggie was cast out of Heaven. She has no idea that Vaggie was damned for sparing a child but even so, the act of turning against the genocide and saying enough, regardless of how it happened, is all it takes for Vaggie to be deserving of forgiveness. Just in the same way that Pentious was deserving of redemption when he was vulnerable about his feelings and allowed himself to love, Vaggie is deserving because of allowing Charlie in to love her, even filled with guilt and grief over the things she had done. 

She could have run from Charlie and let that grief and guilt consume her and become just another one of Hell’s sinners lost in their own pain and unwilling to change, but instead she decided to let Charlie in and do whatever it took to make Charlie’s dreams a reality while also seeking her own redemption, albeit in a different way from how Charlie has been trying to redeem people.

I think all that Vaggie truly wanted from Charlie was to be forgiven for her actions but was so afraid of not receiving it that she hid it instead, forgetting that in turn all Charlie wanted to do was love her and forgiveness would have come from her as easily as that love. The only way that Vaggie could have ever gotten her redemption was by being honest, laying it all on the table and then allowing Charlie to continue to love her. 

So thank goodness then that Vaggie accepted her unconditional love and gave it right back, amplifying it and putting it back out into the world to maybe do a little good for once and frankly Vaggie doesn’t need Heaven for that to be true redemption for her at last. 

So that’s that. Hopefully I at least got my points across somewhat competently. I’m slightly out of practice with this kind of writing but Hazbin Hotel has enraptured me in a way that I have not felt about a piece of media in a long long time. On that topic though, if you’re like me and cannot get enough of fictional Gods and media that tackles religion in interesting ways I would like to be self indulgent one last time and recommend some books with themes that you might vibe with if you’re also obsessed with Hazbin in the ways that I am. 

The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell about first contact with an alien race that turns into an exploration on the nature of God and what it means for us if God truly exists but is indifferent to our suffering. 

The Library at Mount Char by Scott Hawkins about a bunch of kids training to be Gods that also features a fucked up father figure if you’re into that. 

Kingdoms of the Wall by Robert Silverberg about the dangers of encountering an alien race so early in their development that they can only see our superior knowledge as God-like and worship humanity as deities. 

A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter M. Miller Jr about the cyclical nature of history as humanity crawls back out of a nuclear fallout only to succumb to the same mistakes centuries later simultaneously clinging to and denouncing their new religion that got them so far in the first place. 

Midnight, Water City by Chris McKinney about how a person comes to be deified and the horrible consequences of making a human a God. 

And if you know of anything similar I am always open to suggestions, it’s about 95% of the media I consume at this point. 

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #the devil wears her heart on her sleeve #and we would all do well to be just a little bit more like her

[shitpostingkats]

Okay but this weeks episode really made me sit down and think about Fig & Riz parallels. The punk rocker who doesn't know herself but devotes herself to gods and devils all for her friends. The nerd who knows himself SO well but is scared to let the people he cares about know, who picks up his friends and tries to carry them over the finish line. "I know I don't really wear my heart on my sleeve" (is lying) vs. "It's all out there. That's all that's going on emotionally." (is lying) Making up multiple personas and a list of "romantic" interests so long that the fbi is out to catch her, versus making up just a single roëmænce partnær just to pass as "normal". Being terrified to be in a relationship because it means being known and being disinterested with being in a relationship but no one can know. Huge identity shift right before highschool versus "My nickname in middle school was The Briefcase Kid." The everchanging actor afraid to look at herself and the rocksteady investigator whose biggest fear is being seen.

#Parents Georg and riz with his one mom whos trying her best. I could go on. #rotating them in my brain as we speak #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy #d20 #d20 fhjy #dimension 20 fantasy high #dimension 20 #fig faeth #figeroth faeth #riz gukgak

[whore4abby]

heyyyy vannyyyyyy i love u sm i promise i'm not being a lurker

what abt model reader and abby at like a designers party (yk the devil wears prada 👀)

i'm too obsessed with everything u write is there like a support group or something for whore4abby addicts

ferny fern ur brain !! this idea is so yummy 😵‍💫 i love u MORE !! thank u for this hope u don’t mind me switching it up a lil mwah mwah !! NO ONE would join that damn support group bffr wrote this at 3am let’s not talk abt it

high fashion;

kinda a part two of this !!

warnings; smut - sex in a public bathroom, strap-on usage (r!receiving), choking (with abby’s tie), mdni

wc; 1.7k

“abs…c’mon, baby…we gotta leave in a few minutes.” you call out to your wife who’s spent the last 30 minutes making sure she looks absolutely perfect, not one hair out of place in her braid, making sure her new tux was absolutely spotless.

“i’m coming, doll…gimme a minute.” she calls out softly and you laugh and roll your eyes playfully at her antics. the ongoing joke that she spends way more time getting ready than you do slowly but surely starting to become a reality.

you smooth out the fabric of your almost sheer, black satin dress and slip on your jimmy choo heels, grabbing your purse from the dresser before looking up just as abby walks out from the bathroom. you swear you feel your eyes turn into little heart shapes as you see her.

she looks nothing short of absolutely perfect in her sleek, tailored black tux paired with her shiny black dress shoes, her muscular forearms filling out the sleeves of her suit jacket and her long hair slicked back from her face. you're absolutely smitten as you rush over to press your lips against hers repeatedly, “god, you’re so pretty…” you sigh, words coming out as a breathless whisper as you press your face against her chest, closing your eyes and breathing in her familiar scent.

before you know it you’re gathered in a spacious studio for a small, intimate gathering of some couture designers to showcase their new up-coming works. you’re surrounded by mannequins displaying gorgeous designer clothes, along with an assortment of clothes scattered around the room, from elegant ballgowns to sophisticated suit jackets.

the windows are covered in velvet drapes, allowing a small amount of natural moonlight to flood the room. everyone whispering discreetly amongst themselves, scanning the surroundings and taking in all the lavish clothing and glittering accessories.

you wander off away from abby for a little while, you’re quietly minding your own business checking out some artist sketches that are carefully hung up on the wall when you feel a presence beside you. “beautiful aren’t they?” a heavily accented voice causes you to look away from the framed pictures and you turn your head to see a familiar italian designer.

“yeah…they’re gorgeous! are they for the new spring-summer collection?” you query, you head tilting curiously in his direction. “yes, that’s correct…these pieces should be out within the next couple of months.” he smirks and leans in closer to you.

“i was actually just thinking about you.” he places a hand on your shoulder and you resist the urge to shudder in disgust. “oh, please…i’m not that special.” you force a stiff laugh and shake your head, after all this time you still find it hard to believe that you have become a well-known, household named model.

“im serious! i saw you at that runway show a couple weeks ago…and let me say, it’s been driving me crazy ever since. ive been dying to get in contact with you-“ he chuckles, his gaze drifting down towards you body. he takes your hand in his, a cunning smile spreading wide as he leans in to kiss your cheek. you shake his hand curtly before pulling your hand back and jerking your face away from him.

he continues to flirt with you, his eyes finding yours and locking onto them. “perhaps you’d be interesting in catching a drink tonight?” he looks down at your shoulder and casually caresses it with his hand. “my hotel is just a couple blocks away, and i know you’re staying in the city the whole weekend. so whatdya say?”

you start purposely clinking your perfectly polished wedding ring against your half empty champagne glass, hoping he gets the hint. “i’ll actually be busy with my wife….in our own hotel room, thank you very much.”

you catch a glimpse of abby across the room, she instantly feels a pang of jealousy as she watches him openly flirt with her girl practically right in front of her face.

her brow begins to furrow and she discreetly ends the conversation she’s having and makes her way over to you, she obviously saw the guy kiss you, and she’s clearly not happy about it.

you watch his smile falter a little at the mention of your wife, and he directs his gaze towards abby as she approaches, obviously intimidated by her height and stature. “everything okay, my love?” she asks, her eyes still watching the designer. you lean in to kiss her briefly before pulling away and nodding, wrapping your arm around her bicep.

he finally gets the hint and laughs, taking a step or two back. “hmm, well isn’t that a shame?” he says with a grin. he turns to walk away, before stopping and turning back to face you. “well if you ever want to get in touch, here’s my card.” he holds out a small business card with his details on it and smiles at you, abby quickly pushes his hand away and speaks in a passive-aggressive manner, “my wife and i won’t be needing that, thank you.”

he laughs cockily, obviously slightly amused before turning on his heel and walking off to probably shamelessly flirt with another married woman.

abby leans into you, resting her head against yours, taking the champagne flute out of your hand and placing it on a nearby silver side-table. her eyes still watching the designer as he saunters away. “i don’t like how he was looking at you, darling.”

you roll your eyes at her comment, giggling slightly. “babe, calm down,” you say, squeezing her hand. you look over at her and smirk at her. “but you’re really the only one who i’ve got my eyes on, okay?”

“you’re mine…all fuckin mine~” her voice is rough, and she still can’t shake her jealousy from that designer looking at you. abby leans in and kisses you on the neck, her lips gently sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin.

abby smiles wickedly at you, before grabbing you by the hand and quickly dragging you to the back of the boutique. you find yourself in a fancy, private bathroom and abby quickly locks the door behind you. she pulls you in for a heated kiss and you can feel her firm body pressing against yours.

abby’s tongue gently plays against yours, her hands caressing your face and your body, slowly pulling you closer to her. she bites down on your bottom lip slightly, but not hard enough to hurt you.

she pulls away for a second before diving back in, kissing you passionately and with more force than before. “all mine~” she whispers in your ear, her breath hot on your neck, her fingers finding their way down to hike your dress up over you ass, bending you over in the sink counter.

you hear the zipper of her pants being yanked down and the rusting of her shirt being untucked before she pulls your panties off your body and discards them onto the floor before nudging your legs apart with her knee.

you whine as she swipes the tip of the strap-on through your sticky folds, gathering up your slick before pressing the head of the dildo against your slit. “say it…tell me who's the only one who gets you this wet~” she pushes in slowly, groaning at the sight of your pussy greedily taking her cock. “you, abs…fuucck- only you!”

she thrusts herself fully inside without warning, all seven inches of black silicone right up to the hilt making you cry out, feeling every vein and ridge flush against the walls of your cunt. the stinging stretch causing your face to contort in a mixture of pleasure and pain as she pulls out until just the tip remains inside, then slams back in. she roughly manhandles you, slamming you back on her cock. “nnhhggg…a-abby~”

you hear her fumbling with something before you suddenly feel pressure around your throat, the silky material of her tie digs into your neck as she wraps it around your throat and yanks you back to make eye contact with her in the mirror. “look at me while im fucking you, yeah?” she growls through gritted teeth, her eyes dark and filled with jealousy fueled lust.

you’re gripping onto the marble counter so hard that your knuckles are starting to lose their colour, strangled moans leaving your lips, the perfectly applied lipstick now smudged around your mouth in messy splotches.

she drops the tie onto the counter and you gasp for some much needed air. she snakes her free hand down to rub at your clit lazily as she snaps her hips into yours at an eye-rolling pace. “a-abby! oohhh…my god…fuck…” the fingers of her unoccupied hand dig into your hip, holding you in place as she starts to pound into you relentlessly, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing in the small bathroom.

she groans, picking up the pace, the friction from the harness against her clit making her moans grow louder and more desperate, hips grinding into you in-between thrusts as she chases her own release.

you thighs start to clench and shake as her pace picks up even more, leaving you gasping and grabbing at any surface you can find to ground yourself. “you feel that? only i can make you cum like this, yeah?” you’re babbling incoherently as the the head of her cock keeps bumping into that sweet spot until it has you letting out a loud pleading cry as you cum on her cock.

she keeps thrusting, prolonging your release as she helps you ride out your own orgasm, her thick fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise.

“fuuccckk~” she pants heavily, leaning forward to rest her head against your back, the harness still grinding against her clit and making her cum hard whilst still buried inside you.

she lets out a loud groan as she pulls out with a pop, looking down at the mess between your legs and the cum dripping from your clenching cunt. you turn back to face her and she brings your mouths together in a brief, heated kiss before pulling away and carefully helping you clean yourself up.

she tucks her strap-on back into her pants and neatens her tux up before picking up your discarded panties and shoving them into her pocket before holding her arm out for you to take. “c’mon, baby~” her chivalrous action a stark contrast to the way she just fucked you into oblivion not even five minutes ago.

you smile coyly, adjusting your dress and grabbing onto her forearm as she leads you out of the bathroom and back out into the main studio space, not even caring about the skeptical looks and the un-approving stares of the people around you.

an; model!reader has me in an absolute chokehold right now😵‍💫if u have any ideas for more PLSSS leave me a request !!!!

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆.ೃ࿔myfics⌨️ #⋆｡˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚requests🫙 #abby anderson #abby tlou #tlou abby #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson smut #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x fem reader #abby x you #abby anderson x y/n

[jazeswhbhaven]

What were the reactions of the kings and Sitri when they saw female MC wearing a bridal dress?🥹

Alrightie *cracks knuckles* let's get back into the requests yeah? Setting the scene, where MC is trying on various dresses that the seamstresses of Hell have pitched together to make for her. She finally finds the perfect one. Open shoulders, steel-boned corset, cascading sheer material (not too long of a tail), a sweetheart neckline with detachable sleeves with floral lace, and the color of creme with notes of white and gold. Sitri: He's not sure how to keep himself from being in awe looking at MC when he checks in on how the fitting is going. As he stares at her, his heart races, his cheeks flush, and the cup of tea in his hand trembles. "She's so breathtaking..." For once, he doesn't call her Solomon, but by her name, and she looks over, smiling softly and covering her face to shy away from his gaze. He interrupts the devils around her for a moment to come up and kiss her hands. "I can't wait to see you walk down the aisle..." Satan: He's been watching the entire time from the start of the devils taking measurements, trying to keep himself from growling each time they got too close to her hips or breasts. Once the fitting is done, he's able to eye MC in all of her glory. She's stunning, smiling brightly at him as she twirls. He cups her chin, bringing her lips up to a kiss while stating "With you as my bride, I can defeat anyone..." Mammon: He couldn't have asked for anything more seeing his bride in such a beautiful dress. He, of course, had many commissioned, and this suited her tastes the best. He wants to adorn MC in jewelry to match, diamonds, pearls, whatever she desires. Mammon is so full in his heart, for once he feels he couldn't want anything more when he looks at her. He barely lets the seamstresses finish, picking MC up bridal style "just to practice" for when he takes her on their honeymoon. Beelzebub: He doesn't see MC in her dress until the ceremony, and he's lost for words. As she walks down the aisle, he feels like something he hasn't done in a long time. Love. Adoration. Devotion. He feels like now with her by his side, he should stay in Avisos and be the king his country needs. But who's to say he'll actually keep his promise, he may very well whisk his bride away during the honeymoon and never come back. Leviathan: He can't admit it, he won't admit it. Not to her face. Compared to himself, she is the most divine, beautiful being he's laid eyes upon. It's not enough to express this in words, but he would show her on their honeymoon night. When she's basked in moonlight, embraced by his arms, forever his. All of this crosses his mind as he stares at MC in her dress, but he just silently stares as the seamstresses add their finishing touches. He would have to hold on to those feelings, at least for now.

#jwhbasks❓ #whb #what in hell is bad #whb beelzebub #whb leviathan #whb mammon #whb satan #whb sitri #trying on bridal dresses eating sample cake that sounds really fun in theory #mc's dress was a mouthful for me to describe lol

[reegis]

What do you think is Johnnys (devil not the writers) reasoning for loathing Orpheus so much? It just feels so strong yet I can't pin down an exact reasoning

I feel like narratively Jonny and Orpheus are complete opposites;

Jonny’s whole persona is openly, aggressively (& frequently homicidally) detached from any sort of sentimentality. Has to kill his dad? who cares, he totally wasn’t effected by that. Doc is gone? couldn’t give less of a shit, no emotional turmoil there. All of the people he’s lost, and the painful deaths he’s suffered over uncountable centuries as an immortal? dust in the wind, couldn’t matter less.

Meanwhile Orpheus is sentimental to the point of being boarderline useless without his lady love. He tried Absolutely EVERYTHING to reach her again, from requesting to speak to her mind in the achaeron, to unsuccessfully attempting unaliving himself, to stockpiling HIGHLY ILLEGAL BRAIN MELTING ACID as a backup plan, and then eventually asking Hades for help and joining the UDAD plot as we know it. He’s a loverboy through and through and wears his heart on his sleeve.

To me i think that Jonny is, at heart (lmao ironic), much more similar to Orpheus than he would like any of us to believe- and there are definitely moments where I personally feel that you can see glimpses of that. but he has spent eons creating this untouchable, unaffected “captain” persona (that absolutely None of the mechs are buying btw but he is trying so lets all give him some points for effort) and seeing someone living that life so openly and authentically without any subterfuge is bound to strike a nerve.

#the mechanisms #jonny d’ville #udad #disclaimer i am 100% talking out of my ass #and maybe projecting #tldr jonny cant cope with anyone experiencing genuine emotions bc he cant cope w his own #in my onion #asks

[peakyswritings]

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby X OC

PART IV

Summary: after their late-night conversation, something has changed between Nina and Tommy. Now Tommy’s slowly coming to understand that they might be more similar than they thought.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), time-typical misogyny, addressing the topics of rape and murder, English is not my first language.

A/N: This is more like a passage chapter with little to no action, but it’s fundamental for the development of Tommy and Nina’s relationship. But be ready, cause there’s a storm coming!

Important information for the context: In this chapter, Nina explains the delitto d’onore (honour killing) and the matrimonio riparatore (rehabilitating marriage), two practiced which were recognised by the Criminal Code and were only abolished in Italy in 1981. In Italy, r*pe went from being a crime against the moral to being a crime against the person only in 1996.

PREVIOUS PART

SERIES MASTERLIST

CHAPTER’S MOODBOARD

Dividers credits

Sipping lemonade at the kitchen table, with the birds chirping outside and a slight breeze coming through the open window, Nina relished the first moments of peace in weeks. With the women of the family busy with the tradition of making tons of tomato sauce to preserve for the winter at Aunt Rita’s house and the men out for business, she could finally enjoy a day all for herself. She might even go to the sea, stay there to watch the sunset.

Glancing out the window, a curious sight caught her attention. Tommy Shelby was lounging in a chair, his head leaning back, his eyes closed. He had abandoned his formal attire, he wasn’t wearing a jacket nor a tie, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing his forearms. There was something captivating in his disheveled appearance, and in the way - despite his apparently vulnerable position - he still seemed to be fully aware of his surroundings. There was a clear tension in his shoulders and his eyelids fluttered, from time to time.

After their late-night conversation, it didn’t take long for Tommy and Nina to go back to their old ways. That morning, while they sat at the breakfast table, they mostly ignored each other, and the few words they exchanged during the day were mere courtesies. It was almost as if last night never happened. Almost. Because it had happened, and something had changed between them. But it was such a small change that neither of them were actually aware of it. Maybe that change was the reason Nina took pity on him and walked out to approach him.

However, as soon as his stern blue eyes rested on her, an unfamiliar nervousness took over her, and she suddenly felt stupid, regretting her impulsive decision. It wasn’t like they were close, after all. But he was there, and he was looking at her, and it was too late to go back. She had to find something to say before that situation became even more awkward.

Before she could speak, something she hadn’t noticed before caught her eye. A black full-ball was curled up in Tommy’s lap, hidden by the shadow of the table. Nina watched in shock as Winston purred and stretched his little paws, enjoying the man’s scratches behind his ear. How the hell did he manage to touch Winston without losing a finger?

The gangster’s eyes shifted between Nina and the cat, and his lips curved into an taunting grin. “Your cat likes me. That should be a good sign.”

“Quite the contrary.” She retorted, recovering from her astonishment. “Winston’s a devil. If he likes you, there’s clearly something wrong with you.” She teased him, feeling the previous embarrassment slowly fade away.

“But he likes you.” He squinted his eyes, pointing at her.

“Yes, because I feed him.”

Something moved in the grass, causing Winston to raise his head and stare at a specific point. It took him only a few seconds to spot a lizard, and he jumped from Tommy’s lap to catch the poor animal. Traitor, she thought to herself, watching as the cat ran away with his loot.

Once Winston had disappeared, she remembered the reason why she had walked up to him in the first place. “I’m going to the sea for a while.” She said, shifting her weight from one feet to the other. “If you need something, everybody’s over there.” She nodded her head at Agnese’s house.

Tommy stayed silent for a few seconds, pondering, almost hesitating. “Would you mind if I came with you?”

There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice, which surprised Nina even more than his question. One thing that she had learned in the short time she had known him was that he never wavered. Yet, only for an instant, his firm and unmovable facade seemed to falter.

Truth was, Tommy didn’t even remember the last time he went to the beach. He was still a kid, Finn probably wasn’t even born yet. He had almost forgotten how it felt, and for the first time in a long time, he longed for a feeling that seemed to belong to another life. But Nina didn’t particularly like him, and perhaps he was overstepping by asking to go with her. Moreover, if her family found out, chances were that they would get the wrong idea.

“No.” Nina shook her head, recollecting herself. “No, I don’t mind.”

She took both Tommy and herself aback with her answer. Up until a few days earlier she would’ve said a sharp “no” without thinking about it twice, but now, as much as she hated to admit it, his company wasn’t so unpleasant anymore. Quite the contrary. And their bickering surely was a way of escaping the boredom of the small village.

So they found themselves walking down the dirt road outside the big gates of the houses, in the opposite direction from where Tommy had arrived a little over a week ago. It stretched in front of them as far as the eye could see, and its left side was surrounded by nothing but trees, whereas the right side overlooked the sea below. In the silence, he could already hear the sound of the waves and breathe the salty air, and the comfort it brought him almost made up for the burning sensation of the sun on his face. He wasn’t prepared for the warmth of the Italian summer, so radically different from Birmingham’s gloomy weather.

Eventually, they approached some narrow stone stairs, which led down to a small beach.

“Careful.” Nina told him, starting to walk down the high steps with surprising ease. “It’s slippery.”

Tommy followed behind her, paying close attention both to where he placed his feet and where she placed hers. She was going a bit too fast for his liking, and although her movements were agile and graceful, he had the impression she might slip at any moment.

Little did he know, she had walked down those steps hundreds of times. It was a spot she had discovered a few years prior, hidden from prying eyes and unknown to most people. It wasn’t even a proper beach, rather a small sandy space surrounded by rocks. It was her refuge, the place that sheltered her when she needed to be alone. Sometimes she would sit on a rock and watch the hypnotising motion of the waves rolling in, other times she took off her shoes and stood at the sea’s edge, lulled by the feeling of the cold water around her feet. She could pretend that nothing existed except for her and the sea, that she was free of the suffocating weight of judgement and injustice. And she could breathe.

“Nice place.” Tommy’s hoarse voice came to her ears as she went to sit on a rock. She watched as he looked around, an unreadable expression on his face. Another thing she had learned about Tommy Shelby was that it was impossible to tell what was going on inside his head. He was so good at hiding his feelings that Nina figured it must be an ability he had mastered over the years. There was nothing left of the glimpse of humanity he had revealed the previous night, and she wondered whether her mind had just made it up.

With his back to her, he stood in front of the sea, observing the slow motion of the waves. “How’s your cousin? I haven’t seen her today.”

Unlike the previous days, that day no big lunch was organised in the shared garden, and Tommy had eaten with Nina, her parents and her two brothers in their dining room. Since he had officially started the courting the day before, the family’s agitation had quieted down, and big gatherings were not necessary anymore, unless something important happened, like a proposal. But it was too soon for that. So that day everything went back to normal, just like Nina had predicted the day he had arrived.

“She’s busy. She and my cousins are helping my mum and aunt Rita.” She informed him. “Summer means conserve. They’re making tomato sauce and preserving it. It’s a tradition.”

“You didn’t join them?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not this year.”

Tommy took her short answer as a sign not to inquire further. He wasn’t blind, he had noticed she was a bit of an outcast in her own family. He had seen how her aunts and cousins looked at her, how they whispered among themselves when she said or did something they considered unacceptable, how her own mother lowered her head in embarrassment on those occasions. It hadn’t taken him long to understand how things worked in Sicily: women had to be meek, agreeable and marriage-minded. It was no wonder Nina’s temperament clashed with that state of things.

“Anyway, Agnese’s happy.” She continued. “Just like everyone.” Although she was trying to keep her tone neutral, she couldn’t hide a hint of bitterness in her voice.

“But you’re not.” He stated matter-of-factly, turning to face her.

“I’m happy that she’s happy. What I’m not happy about…” she left her sentence hanging, thinking about her next words. “Is this whole sale thing. Because you can call it whatever you want, it doesn’t change what it really is.”

There it was, the rage she tried so hard to contain. It never completely reveal itself, it only shone through cracks and fractures, like in that moment. But Tommy had seen it since the very beginning, for anger recognises anger, and he was angry too. He had been angry since he was a boy.

He sat next to her, keeping his eyes on the calm sea in front of them. “You’re right.” He nodded, knowing there was no point in denying what was in front of everyone’s eyes. “But it’s necessary. I’m selling myself too, you know. Before all of this I didn’t think I’d ever get married.”

Nina glanced at him, furrowing her brows. “You never thought about marriage?”

“I did.” He admitted, his mind wandering to moments that seemed so distant yet so close at the same time. “There was a woman I wanted to marry. Grace.” He explained, having to force himself to say her name. After a whole year, that name still stung on his tongue.

“What happened with her?” She asked curiously.

“Turns out she was a spy, working for an Irish cop who was investigating on some stolen guns.” Reality crashed back on him as he said those words, the memory of how he had been played by the woman he loved hitting him like a bucket of cold water. “He thought we had them.”

“Did you?”

A smirk made its way on Tommy’s face at her innocent question. He turned to look at her with raised eyebrows, slightly leaning towards her. “How do you think a backstreet razor gang managed to take control of the city without the police intervening?”

She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it right away, shaking her head with an impressed look on her face. For once, she was at a loss for words.

“Anyway,” he straightened his back, becoming serious again. “She ratted us all out, and then she left.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s in the past.”

It’s in the past. Tommy had lost count of all the times he had said that to himself. Maybe if he repeated it long enough, it would eventually become true. And maybe it was happening, because that was the first time he thought about her in days. Yet, it still hurt. He thought they were the same, that he found her, and she found him. He was wrong.

After a while, Nina broke the silence that had fallen between them. “At least you’re not some old man.”

Her sudden statement caused a chuckle to escape his lips, and even though she had tried to keep a straight face, she soon followed him. Tommy realised that he had never actually heard her laugh before. A few times she had chuckled, but until then she had never let out a real laugh. It was infectious, and he found himself laughing for the first time in God knew how long.

Soon the laughter died down, and Tommy was left with question that had been burning in his mind for a while. “Why don’t you want to get married?”

There was no judgment in his voice, just plain curiosity. He didn’t find it strange, but he couldn’t help but wonder what made her so adamant about the matter.

She took her time to answer, as if she was ordering the words in her mind, and he couldn’t tell whether she was translating her thoughts or finding the way to address a subject that was clearly a sore point. She was so fluent in English that sometimes he forgot it wasn’t her first language. Then her accent came through, or she mispronounced a word, and he was reminded that it probably hadn’t been easy for her to master a language without living in the place it was spoken. It was quite impressive.

“Because if I got married,” she started, bringing his attention back to the topic. “I’d be completely subordinated to my husband. I couldn’t make financial or even employment decisions. If we had children, they wouldn’t really be mine, I’d have no right over them. In the eyes of the law, my husband would have absolute power over us.”

Tommy attentively listened, not daring to interrupt her, afraid that she would close herself off again.

“Best case scenario, I’d end up being a wife and a mother, nothing more, nothing less. Worst case scenario, I’d end up like one of my mother’s friends, who was killed by her husband because he thought she had cheated on him. And he got a sentence reduction. Because it was a honour killing.” She spat out, her voice full of scorn. She frowned, as she did every time she didn’t agree on something.

“Honour killing?” Tommy raised his eyebrows. He had heard about it, of course, but there was something grotesque in the fact that it was somehow recognised by the law.

“If a woman brings dishonour in any way to the family, and one of her family members were to kill her, they would get a sentence reduction. It’s called delitto d’onore. Honour killing.” She explained, and he could tell she was trying not to let emotions take the best of her. Her gaze rested on him, and he figured his expression let his thoughts slip through, because she nodded. “You think that’s fucked up? Wait until you hear about the rehabilitating marriage.”

“What about it?”

“If a man rapes a woman, he can escape his sentence by marrying her. It’s in the Criminal Code, just like the honour killing. And the woman must marry the man to save both her honour and her family. Otherwise she’ll be identified as a shameless woman.” Her dark eyes blazed with outrage as she stared at some point in front of her, and Tommy found himself sharing the same disdain. Maybe it was the part of him who had never tolerated injustice, a side of him he had pushed back a long time ago, but that stubbornly came to the surface whenever something unfair occurred, or maybe her rage was so strong that it was able to infect those who were close to her.

“It’s not that uncommon that a man kidnaps a woman so that she will be forced to marry him.” She shook her head, her voice lowering. “It’s not right. Sometimes I sit here and it’s all I can think about. It’s not right. And no one seems to be angry about it. Most people even agree with it. It’s just how things are. It’s normal. It shouldn’t be.”

Tommy knew that feeling, the frustration that came with helplessness. It plagued him when he was a boy, when he was treated differently because of who he was, of where he came from. When his mother couldn’t afford to put on the table anything but lard. When aunt Polly’s children were taken from her. It was that feeling that pushed him to make sure people feared the Shelby name, so that no one would dare treat them like scum ever again.

“I’m not saying that I wouldn’t like to have a family of my own. But it’s not worth the risk of becoming no one. I don’t want to obliterate myself. I don’t want to depend on a man who might be cruel to me. I want something that’s mine. Because right now, I have nothing. And I know that I finished school, and that’s way more than what most boys get, let alone girls. But it’s not enough.” Her voice cracked, but there was no trace of tears on her face. “Is it so bad to want something more?”

No, Tommy wanted to say. No, it’s not. But couldn’t bring himself to speak, because he knew that there were no words that could make it better.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, pulling herself together. “I got carried away and I talked too much.”

“No.” He said quickly. “You didn’t. I asked you a question and you answered it.”

For some reason, Tommy didn’t want Nina to think that her talking bothered him, that she had to hold her tongue with him. He liked hearing her talk. She was smart, she had thoughts of her own, and she challenged him. She didn’t agree on everything he said - or pretended to - just to please him, she didn’t make herself smaller like everyone else did in his presence. That was somehow refreshing.

There was silence again, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. They were both meditating on the words they had said and heard, and the gap between them didn’t seem so wide, now. As the sun started to set, the sky took on shades of pink and orange, and a warm light illuminated the beach.

Tommy took advantage of Nina’s distraction to look at her. The last rays of sun lit up her eyes with a golden hue, giving them a colour which resembled honey. Her tan skin seemed to gleam, and her cheeks had taken on a tinge of red. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time, and he realised - she was beautiful. He had already noticed her interesting, sharp beauty, but now it felt as if it had intensified. A light gust of wind rose up, and her long raven hair tickled his cheek, sending a shiver down his spine. When the scent of lavender filled his nostrils, he couldn’t restrain himself from closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

Nina shifted her position, causing their hands to accidentally brush.

He didn’t flinch away this time. She didn’t either.

NEXT PART

Heart, Body and Soul tag list: @zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms @call-sign-shark @kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @gaslysainz

Tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fics #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x oc

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part six: "The Wedding Night"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You step outside of Marci and Foggy's wedding reception for a moment to clear your head and the night soon takes a turn you weren’t expecting.

Or

You both finally stop being idiots and admit your feelings. And that locked adjoining hotel room door does not stay locked.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 5.8k

a/n: There is one more part to this wedding saga that follows called "The Post-Wedding Brunch" that I will try to get up next before I take a break for the day of sharing these on tumblr. As I've said in the other notes, there are 74 of these currently on AO3, but you can find the ones available on tumblr in this list here. Hope you're enjoying the series if you're new to it!!

You headed out of the ballroom, the music fading into the background now that you were no longer near the thumping speakers. Walking the few steps through the brightly lit lobby, your heels clacking along the floor, you pushed open the front doors and stepped out of the reception hall. Your arms absently crossed over your chest as you wandered outside a bit further, the door softly closing behind you. You were far enough out of the city that you could actually see some stars in the night sky for once and your gaze lingered up, taking in the rare sight. 

Your mind grudgingly fell back to Allison and Matt, hoping that you wouldn’t have to tune them out in Matt’s room like Foggy’s cousin had teased. Maybe if you were lucky he’d go to her hotel room. The thought made you wince, fighting down the sharp sting of tears.

You’d be lying if you said that what you felt for Matt was strictly friendly, even if you’d always said you two were just friends. Because you were friends–had been good friends for just over a year now–but you’d wanted more ever since you met him that night at Josie’s if you were being completely honest with yourself. But he’d only ever playfully flirted with you on occasion while you’d witnessed him openly flirt with other women.

You'd always felt like you just weren't quite enough to be his type. Not like that at least. He always flirted with the most stunning of women, and not that you entirely lacked self-esteem, but you'd never been a head turner, not like the women he had been with. And sure, Matt was blind, but as Foggy had said often, he did seem to have a sixth sense for that in particular. And on top of that, you'd always been a bit shy and awkward. Struggling a little with anxiety. Matt knew that well about you, and even though he'd always been great at handling you in those states, the women he flirted with were always confident and strong.

No, no you were not Matthew Murdock's type at all.

But Allison seemed nice. You certainly didn't hate her; hell, you couldn’t blame her for wanting Matt. If anything you envied her ability to boldly go after what she wanted. You weren’t like that. You’d never been like that. Which was why she was in there with him and you were out here, hoping you wouldn’t be stuffing pillows over your ears later tonight.

You sighed, shifting on your feet and feeling how sore they’d become in the heels you were wearing. At least the balmy night air and the soft chirping crickets felt refreshing in comparison to the loud music and heat from all of the sweaty bodies dancing inside. Eventually your eyes drifted closed, feeling yourself relax and a bit of your anxiety fade.

"I thought you came out here."

You startled, throwing a hand over your chest as your heart nearly skipped in shock. Spinning a little unsteadily on your heel, you spotted Matt before you nearly lost your balance. His hands darted out, grabbing your shoulders and catching you. Your own hands instinctively caught onto his bare forearms, the sleeves of the dress shirt he had on rolled up to his elbows now. 

"Easy there, Bambi," he teased, righting you.

You grinned sheepishly, removing your hands from his arms and stepping back. "Shit, Matt, you scared me!" you told him, heart slowly recovering as he just grinned back at you. You watched him for a moment, noticing the slightly ruffled attire of his clothes from the day. "You step out to get away from all the noise, too?" you asked him.

He shrugged a shoulder, one hand holding onto his cane while the other slipped into his pants pocket. "Sort of. But I thought you seemed upset. Just wanted to check on you."

You took another step back, waving a dismissive hand and feeling your nerves return. "No, I–I just had a bit too much to drink. Mixed with the loud music and tons of people, I just needed some air."

He studied you for a long moment, quietly tilting his head to the side. You'd noticed he'd taken his glasses off when he'd stepped out; he had been wearing them at the table a minute ago. The longer he silently stared, the more you began to squirm under his blank gaze.

"Are you having a good night?" he asked you after a moment.

You smiled, nodding. "Yeah, I am. Marci and Karen might be encouraging me a bit too much on the open bar," you admitted, to which Matt chuckled, "but yes. Are you?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "Though I was hoping I'd get to talk to you a bit more. You've been hiding all night."

You bit your lip, eyes darting away. "I haven't been hiding," you said softly. "I've been dancing with Karen half the night. You seemed busy, like you were having fun." You cleared your throat, trying to make a joke as you asked, "Do you need to put a sock on our adjoining door tonight? Need me to find somewhere to go for a bit?"

Matt's mouth tugged into a frown, his eyebrows creasing together. "What?"

"You and Allison," you told him awkwardly. When he continued to stare you shook your head, glancing away. "Nevermind. Bad joke."

"I'm not sleeping with Allison tonight," he told you. 

"Good to know I don't need to find somewhere else to go for a bit, then," you muttered awkwardly.

Matt cleared his throat, shifting on his feet beside you. Your arms nervously crossed over your chest again, your eyes drawing back upwards to the night sky. For a moment, silence fell over the pair of you.

"So I've heard everyone inside talking about Marci’s dress all day, and I have a pretty good idea of what Fog is wearing because it's basically what I'm wearing," Matt began, breaking the silence, "but I've been curious about what you're wearing."

Your cheeks burned, your gaze dropping down to your gold heels peeking out just under the silk, floor length dress.

"Same thing as Allison," you answered. "All the bridesmaids are wearing the same dress."

He took a step towards you, a faint smile on his lips as he spoke. "Well I didn't ask Allison what she was wearing. I asked you."

Your face flushed warmer, one of your hands rising to press against the burning skin on your cheek. "That's just usually your go-to line. Figured you already used it on her," you answered softly. 

"It wasn't a line," he said just as softly. "I genuinely would like to picture how you look tonight. Since I can't actually see you."

You bit your lip, eyes returning to your shoes. For some reason your heart was thundering in your ears and your breath was coming in short.

"What color is it?" he asked, taking another step towards you.

"It's uh, like a sage green," you whispered, your heart beating wildly. It didn't help that you knew he could hear it. 

His hand reached out, his fingertips grazing the fabric along your hip. "Silk?"

"Yeah," you breathed out. 

His hand moved to your elbow, gently sliding its way up. His calloused fingertips left a burning trail in their wake as his hand paused just at the edge of your shoulder. 

"Strapless?" he asked.

You shook your head, finding it suddenly hard to breathe with him touching you. "No," you whispered. "There's uh, there's thin straps. The uh, the neckline is a bit of a plunging V-neck. The dress dips down in the back a bit, too." You swallowed thickly, your heart in your throat. "It's floor length," you added quietly.

"I'm sure you look stunning," he whispered, his hand falling back to his side. 

You smiled awkwardly, a nervous laugh leaving you. "Definitely an upgrade from jeans or sweatpants I suppose," you said, unsure how to take his compliment. 

"I'm sure you always look stunning," he murmured. 

You snorted in amusement, the sound sharp and inelegant. "I don't know about that."

His eyes narrowed at you, a slight frown at the corner of his mouth. And then a slow, warm smile spread across his face and he held his hand out towards you. You eyed it curiously, one brow raised.

"Care to come back inside and dance with me?" he asked, his eyes landing along your chest. "Karen hogged you enough for the night, I think."

You rolled your eyes grinning. "You have your pick of probably every single woman in there, Matt. I don't think–"

"I'd really like to dance with you," he told you, cutting you off, his hand still outstretched. 

Your eyes darted down to the waiting hand. Why was he complimenting you so much this evening? Following you outside? Touching you like that and wanting to know how you looked tonight? And now he wanted to dance with you ? He hadn't even danced with Allison.

But his offer and that awaiting hand were too tempting to ignore with the alcohol buzzing in your system. 

"Okay," you agreed, hesitantly placing your hand into his. 

The smile on his face grew and he pulled you carefully towards him, wrapping your arm through his as you'd done a few times earlier today. Nervously you led the pair of you both back inside, his cane tapping lightly along the floor as you both walked. 

A slow song was playing when you returned to the reception and your stomach twisted in knots. All the people on the dance floor were couples holding each other close, swaying gently together. You even spotted Foggy and Marci in the middle of the group, holding each other as they moved.

Matt leaned in beside you, whispering just over the music as he asked, "You mind if I drop the cane at the head table first? Might get in the way."

"I don't mind at all," you answered back.

As you led Matt towards the head table for a moment, him folding up his cane and setting it down, more questions hit you. Had Matt known what music was playing when he'd asked you to dance? Surely he should have known with his heightened senses, right? 

But why would Matt want to slow dance with you?

He turned back around, arm still linked with yours, and then you anxiously guided the both of you out to the dance floor. When you both finally reached it, he released his arm from yours and turned to face you as his hands gradually made their way to rest along your hips. Hesitantly your hands lightly rested along his broad shoulders.

"Is this okay?" he asked you, leaning forward towards your ear to be heard over the music. 

You could smell the faint cologne he was wearing for the night; it smelled warm and sort of like pine. Your eyes briefly closed, inhaling the scent again.

"Yeah," you answered him.

For the rest of the song you tried to relax, swaying with Matt in the throng of couples around you. But you felt a little tense and stiff, overly aware of his hands resting high on your hips and the way your chest occasionally brushed against his as you both danced. And then there was that look again, the one that left a faint smile on his lips and a fondness in his eyes as he stared down towards your collarbone and it had you feeling dizzy.

When the song ended your feet stopped, your hands about to let go of Matt, but his hands remained at your hips as another slow song came on.

"Would you stay with me for another dance?" he asked, a hopeful look on his face as he gazed down at you.

Your mouth opened as you stared momentarily wide eyed back at him. Quickly you recovered, placing your hands a bit more onto his shoulders as you nodded. "Sure, Matty," you mumbled.

His warm hands glided towards the small of your back, splayed wide over the soft fabric of the dress as he carefully pulled you into him. You gasped lightly in shock, Matt's mouth dipping down beside your ear a second later.

He whispered your name, the hair on the back of your neck rising at the sound of it from his lips as he was holding you like this. "Loosen up," he whispered next, warm breath fanning down your neck. 

You only stiffened further against him, yet again your cheeks flushing as your heart raged inside of your chest. "You make me nervous," you admitted.

"Don't be nervous," he said, still speaking beside your ear. "It's just me."

You ducked your head, and with being this close to Matt, your forehead rested along the top of his chest at the movement. "I'm nervous because it's you," you murmured, your intoxicated brain not bothering to stop this particular admission. "You've always made me nervous."

"Why?" he asked.

You gnawed on your lipstick-covered lip, your stomach twisting uncomfortably. You shouldn't be saying this, not to Matt. Your hands abruptly pushed against his shoulders, trying to get away from this situation, but he only held you tighter. 

"Matt," you said his name like a plea, pushing against him again. 

"Tell me, please?" he practically begged.

You shook your head, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. You couldn't tell Matt, couldn't ruin the friendship you both had. He had to know, with what you knew he could pick up on, he had to know. Why was he doing this? 

"No, Matt, stop," you mumbled.

"Hey," he said gently, one hand leaving your back to gingerly tilt your face up towards his. His eyes were creased in concern. "Don't cry, please don't cry. I'm not trying to upset you. I just–" he bit his lip, gazing down at you, "–I have feelings for you. I've had them for a while. Since that night I overheard you and your friend at Josie’s talking about me. The night we met."

You stopped pushing to get away from Matt, your eyes slowly making their way up towards his face. "What?" you asked, disbelief in your tone.

"I like you," he whispered earnestly. "I always have. I just could never tell if you felt that way too or if it was just your normal nerves when your body reacted around me. I mean, I know you found me attractive, but I didn't know if you felt anything more. Especially knowing that other side of me. And I–I was afraid of ruining our friendship by saying something. But I can't help but think, after today, that you feel it, too…?"

"Matt–I…" you stammered, voice trailing off.

You were at a loss for words. Matt liked you? He liked you like that, too? 

"I–I didn't read you wrong, did I?" he asked apprehensively, his face pinching with worry as you both stopped swaying to the song.

"No, Matt, I…I like you too," you confessed, your face feeling like it was on fire now. "I always have but you're…"  You trailed off again, awkward embarrassment burning through you.

"I'm what?" he pressed.

"You are way out of my league, Matt," you muttered uncomfortably. 

"What?" he asked, shocked. 

You swallowed hard, nerves returning as you abruptly word vomited everything that came next. "You and Foggy are these successful, well-spoken, intelligent lawyers who help so many and do so much good for the people of Hell’s Kitchen. And you're so damn charming and outspoken and smart and impossibly attractive. And then there's the whole other thing you do, which yes, not ideal, but you're like a damn superhero and I'm just…just an awkward, socially inept journalist. I'm not–not anything special, Matt."

When you finally managed to catch a breath and look up at Matt, he was staring down at you with a sad smile on his face. Slowly he leaned in, resting his forehead to yours.

"You're special to me," he whispered. "And if you would stop being so hard on yourself, if you could see yourself like I do, you'd understand." His hand released your chin, instead resting along your face, cupping your cheek. “You’re absolutely charming and you're smart and resourceful as hell. You’re hilarious and vivacious and so goddamn adorable that it hurts sometimes. You're sweet and always so considerate of me. And I know without a doubt that every inch of you is beautiful, inside and out.” He smiled at you, his forehead still resting along yours as he said your name so softly. “ You are out of my league.”

A faint smile spread over your lips, cheeks still flushed and feeling lightheaded as a disbelieving scoff escaped you. “I find that hard to believe, Matt,” you murmured.

“It’s the truth,” he whispered back.

Slowly, you relaxed a bit in his arms as tears pricked your eyes for an entirely different reason now. Your hands gradually slid over his shoulders, making their way around the back of his neck as you carefully rested your head against his shoulder, the two of you moving with the music again. 

"Much better," he murmured into your ear, his own hands pulling you tighter into him as they rested on the small of your back. 

The two of you danced for a bit longer, your bodies close as you swayed to a few more songs. Eventually the pair of you parted when the music picked back up, Matt promising the two of you would continue the conversation at a later time.

Standing in front of the mirror above the dresser in your hotel room, you continued to search for every bobby pin in your hair. You'd already changed out of your dress, throwing on a pair of comfortable cotton shorts and a soft tank top to sleep in before washing off the thick layer of makeup the makeup artist had applied this morning. 

So far you'd managed to pull out five bobby pins, but you could still feel more of them in your still partially pinned up hair. The hair spray made your hair feel a little less soft as you dug around searching for the pins, but you didn't feel like showering tonight. You'd shower in the morning before the brunch Marci had planned in the hotel restaurant downstairs for the family and bridal party. 

Two soft knocks came from the door next to you and you jumped, startling at the unexpected sound. And then you heard Matt hesitantly call your name from the other side. 

"Yeah?" you answered back curiously.

"Do you mind if I come in?" he asked, his tone nervous.

Your hands fell from your hair, heading over towards the locked door that adjoined your two rooms. You slid back the lock and then turned the handle, the door opening to reveal a disheveled Matt in a dark blue tee-shirt and dark gray sweatpants. Your eyes momentarily scanned his casual appearance, one you hadn’t really seen before. Usually Matt was in his dress pants and button up dress shirts, tie and suit jacket on. Or he'd be in nice jeans and a nice shirt when you'd see him on the weekends and he hadn't been at work. Obviously you'd seen him in Daredevil's suit, but somehow this side of him felt different. Softer and more vulnerable. 

"Hey," you greeted him quietly.

He smiled back at you. "Hey," he answered just as quietly back. "You uh, you mind if I come over for a bit?" he asked. 

“Oh, no, not at all,” you said, stepping aside and letting him pass through. You left the door open between your rooms, heading back over to the mirror above the dresser. “I’m just trying to finish pulling the last of these damned bobby pins out of my hair. What’s going on?”

“Would you like some help with that?” he asked, his reflection in the mirror gesturing a hand towards your hair.

“Uh, sure,” you answered nervously.

Matt crossed the few steps of space between you, coming to stand just behind you. You could feel the warmth of him at your back just before both of his hands carefully felt their way around your hair, his breath blowing just over the top of your head and back of your neck as he worked. He immediately found a pin and deftly slipped it out of your curled locks, reaching around you, his chest brushing against your back as one hand remained in your hair as he placed it on the dresser beside the others. And then he straightened back up, searching for more. The feel of his hands running through your hair, with the warmth of him at your back and the feel of his breath washing over you, while he still smelled faintly like the cologne he’d been wearing despite his wardrobe change, had goosebumps raising along your arms and your eyelids lowering. Your heart, on the other hand, had picked up its pace.

“So…what’s the reason for the late night visit?” you eventually asked again.

“I’m just nervous being here,” he admitted.

Your face fell, eyes opening. “Oh, I’m–”

“Not here with you,” he corrected quickly. “Just here in general. So far from Hell’s Kitchen. I’ve…never been this far from it before.”

You relaxed under the ministrations of his hands again. “I was wondering how you were handling that last night,” you told him. “Especially with heightened senses in a hotel room.”

“The answer is not great,” he replied. “But I pushed through it. I’m here for Foggy and Marci. It’s just one more night now. But it’s…still really hard to sleep here. The bed is so lumpy and the sheets are scratchy. I can hear so many different lights buzzing around this entire building nonstop. Not to mention everyone snoring or talking or doing–” I saw his reflection cringe in the mirror, “–other things that I had to actively find a way to tune out.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you breathed out. “How’d you manage to ignore it? Music? Turn on the television?”

You watched a bit of pink tinge his cheeks in the mirror and you wondered if you were imagining the flush to his cheeks or not. Since when did Matt Murdock blush?

“You, actually,” he whispered.

“Me?” you asked in shock.

“Your heartbeat,” he clarified. “And your breathing, actually. I uh, I focused on that instead last night. Eventually I managed to fall asleep for a bit.” He frowned then, his sightless gaze focused on your hair as he pulled out another pin. “Sorry if that was intrusive, by the way. I wasn’t trying to be. I was just desperate and you were asleep. They were just…calming.”

You licked your lips nervously, studying his reflection in the mirror. You somehow didn’t find yourself embarrassed by his admission, rather you felt…flattered.

“That’s okay, Matt,” you whispered. “I don’t mind.” You watched him for a moment, and before you could stop yourself you asked, “Do you want to stay here tonight? Would that help?”

His hands stopped what they were doing in your hair, his body going rigid behind you. Instantly you felt uncomfortable and winced.

“Nevermind, that was weird,” you backtracked quickly. “I just meant if it would help you to sleep tonight, but that was really forward of me. Forget I said anything.”

He cleared his throat, hands still tangled in your hair. “I…actually would have gladly taken you up on that, if you meant it.”

“Would it–would it help?” you stammered out.

“If you didn’t mind me focusing on you again like that,” he answered. “If you didn’t feel like it was intrusive. I am not interested in hearing what Marci and Foggy are about to get up to soon.”

Your face turned red, remembering Marci’s earlier comment about having great sex tonight. “Yeah, shit, I can’t imagine. You’re welcome to stay, if you want. I don’t mind. But I was planning to sleep once I got these out. I’m pretty tired from this weekend already,” you told him.

“Believe me,” he said, his reflection showing him grinning behind you, “I could definitely sleep.”

It was a few more minutes before Matt found the last three bobby pins in your hair, placing them on the dresser. You thanked him before hesitantly making your way over to one side of the bed. Matt slowly headed to the other side, his gaze landing around your chest.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” he asked.

“Yeah, why?” you questioned back.

He raised a hand, gesturing towards you. “Your heart is racing.”

You laughed a little nervously, pulling the sheets back and sitting on the mattress. “Well, I didn’t exactly start the day thinking you’d be in my bed tonight.” Immediately your eyes went wide at the cheeky smile that spread across his mouth. “Not like that!” you added quickly, cheeks burning. “Shit, no, I didn’t–”

“Relax, I know what you meant,” he soothed, pulling the sheets back beside him.

“I’m beginning to think,” you said, reaching a hand out to turn off the lamp beside you, throwing the room into darkness, “that you enjoy when I say stupid shit around you when I’m nervous.”

“I think it’s cute, yes,” he admitted, the smile apparent in his tone.

You laid down on the pillow, scoffing lightly as you felt the bed shift beside you as Matt climbed onto it. It was only a matter of moments before you could feel his warmth radiating from his side of the bed towards you. And then your heart stuttered in your chest, the weight of the evening falling on you. Matt had confessed he had feelings for you , and now he was in your bed and falling asleep next to you .

For a moment you just laid there on your back, staring up at the ceiling nervously, your eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering in from the window just to the side of you. Matt was on your left also laying on his back. A quick scan out of the corner of your eye proved that he was awake, his eyes blankly staring up towards the ceiling as well.

“You’re uncomfortable,” Matt called out through the dark.

“Nervous,” you corrected quickly.

You saw his head shift on the pillow, turning towards you. “Would you be less nervous if we touched?” 

Your heart nearly sky-rocketed out of your chest at his question. Matt’s warm chuckle filled the darkened room around you instantly.

“I meant if we cuddled,” he said, highly amused. “Instead of laying here like stiff boards trying to avoid it.”

“Oh, right,” you breathed out, heart still racing. “Maybe?”

Matt immediately rolled onto his side towards you, one hand snaking its way past your stomach, part of his warm palm brushing skin where your shirt had ridden up. His hand finally came to rest at your hip. He rested his head beside yours, just above your shoulder. Cautiously you slid a hand up, lightly placing it along the forearm that he had across your stomach. You tried to will your heart to calm down.

“Better?” he asked.

“Maybe uh,” you began, swallowing nervously, “maybe give my brain a minute to catch up to what is even happening tonight.”

He laughed lightly beside you, his mouth so close to your ear. “You really couldn’t tell that I liked you?”

You blew out a rough breath, shaking your head. “I still can’t believe you even talked to me that first night at Josie’s,” you admitted. “Liking me is still not in my realm of comprehension.”

Matt’s head rose from off the pillow and you turned to look at him. In the dim light you could see the tender way he was gazing back at you. 

“And what would you say,” he began softly, his hand on your hip sliding its way back out from underneath your hand, drawing it up to brush the hair away from your face, “if I asked for one kiss? Can that be in the realm of comprehension for you tonight?”

Your lips parted in surprise. A startled, anxious noise left your mouth instead of words. Matt only grinned in response, his hand now affectionately stroking your cheek as he stared down at you.

“You’ll have to help me, sweetheart,” he teased. “Was that a yes or a no?”

“Yes,” you breathed out.

His fingers continued to gently brush along the skin of your cheek, his calloused fingertips pleasantly scratching along the smooth skin as he continued to gaze down at you. You felt anticipatory goosebumps rise along your entire body along with a nervous, tingling sensation that had the hairs rising on your arms. Very slowly he leaned in, his hand cupping your cheek just as his warm mouth finally met yours. 

Your eyes snapped shut, your brain short-circuiting. Matt was kissing you. Those soft, full lips that you’d so often admired and occasionally imagined a few too many times were actually moving so deliberate and slow against yours. After over a year of yearning for this very moment, your brain was struggling to process what was happening; it felt like sensory overload.

Your mouth took a moment to respond, but when it did, you were kissing him back tentatively, still a little uncertain how the night had gotten to this point. One of your hands reached out as if to grab him–somewhere, anywhere –but it remained hovering nervously in the air. 

You barely had a chance to recover when he pulled away, your eyes still closed as you laid there trying to catch your breath. You could still feel the ghost of his lips on yours, and as your tongue anxiously wetted your lips, you could still faintly taste his mouth, too.

When you finally recovered, opening your eyes and lowering your hovering hand, he was staring down at you with a smile. Your heart briefly skipped a beat at the sight.

“I have wanted to do that for so long,” he admitted quietly.

“You have no idea how much I’ve thought about that this past year,” you blurted a little breathlessly.

Matt huffed out an amused laugh, his thumb returning to stroking your cheek. “What if I asked to kiss you again?” he questioned, the corners of his lips tugging faintly upwards.

“I’d say you don’t have to ask,” you answered quickly.

Feeling suddenly emboldened, your hand darted out, grabbing the side of Matt’s jaw; the rasp of his stubble was warm and pleasant in your palm as you eagerly pulled his mouth back down to yours. You felt him briefly smiling against your lips at your abrupt and uncharacteristic tenacity before his focus was back on your mouth. Your hand slid its way back, raking through his soft hair before your fingers gripped a bit of the silky strands. Your stomach somersaulted at the feel of his mouth finally on yours. You pulled him a little closer to yourself, Matt easily obliging as his chest carefully pressed into yours. Your heart was thundering in your ears at this point, your mind entirely blank except for one thought. 

Matt was a good kisser–a very good kisser.

When he eventually pulled back just a fraction, a soft whine left your lips at the absence of his. You hadn't been ready to end that. 

“We should probably really get some sleep,” he whispered, a cheeky grin on his face as his eyes darted towards your chest. “Your heart sounds like it needs a break.”

You bit your lip, moderately embarrassed. “Sorry, probably won’t be all that calming for you to focus on tonight,” you said.

He chuckled softly, head falling back to lay beside yours on the pillow. “It’ll calm down eventually,” he assured you. “Probably not until you fall asleep, though,” he added teasingly. “But I enjoy hearing it like this, too.”

You snorted out a laugh beside him. “Why? You like the idea of giving me a heart attack?” you joked back.

His arm snaked its way back over your stomach, his face burying into the side of your shoulder. You could feel the smile forming on his mouth against your skin.

“No, I like hearing the way you respond to me,” he answered. “Even if it was confusing for me to realize that’s indeed what it was doing all this time. Your body is just so–” he paused, lightly kissing the skin of your bare shoulder beside his mouth and you shuddered beneath the touch, feeling his lips smiling again, “–reactive to me. It’s…pleasurable.”

You felt the blood rush south instantly in your body, immediately becoming marginally aroused laying in bed with Matt cuddled up to your side, mentioning things about your body being pleasurable as his lips kept brushing your bare skin. And then he let out another amused, deep chuckle beside you and your eyes went wide in the dark.

“Oh my God, Matt!” you nearly shrieked.

He laughed harder, his body lightly shaking against yours with the movement. Your cheeks were aflame for the hundredth time tonight. Of course he could tell when your body reacted like that , because why wouldn’t he be able to make you even more anxious and self-conscious?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he said between a laugh. “I wasn’t trying to do…well, that.”

Your hands flew to your face and you groaned in embarrassment. “Can we just try to sleep before I embarrass myself further?” you asked, your voice muffled through your hands.

“Yes, sorry,” he answered. You felt his lips place another kiss to your shoulder and a shiver ran down your spine. “But for the record,” he whispered, “you’re not embarrassing yourself.”

“Sure feels like it,” you grumbled, your hands falling from your face.

“Here,” he said, shifting on the bed.

Both of his arms came to wrap around you, his hands tugging you onto your side facing him so both of your bodies were nearly flush together. He slid one hand over your hips and onto your back where it began to trace soothing patterns just over your shirt. Your eyelids slowly lowered, goosebumps yet again dotting your skin.

“Better?” he asked.

“Mmm,” you hummed back.

“Good, just relax. Stop overthinking,” he murmured, his face so close to yours.

“Easier said than done,” you muttered. “Especially with you this close.”

He laughed lightly, his hand still drawing soothing patterns on your lower back. Boldly, your hand carefully slid its way over his hips and wrapped around his back, lightly fisting the soft material of his shirt. His face shifted closer towards yours on the pillow in response, his nose just lightly brushing yours.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered, uttering the term of endearment that seemed determined to stick.

“Goodnight, Matty,” you whispered back.

Your breathing eventually evened out as you lay wrapped in his arms, relaxing into the warmth of him along the front of you, the scent of him filling your nose with every inhale, and his hand’s pacifying movements along your lower back lulling you further to sleep. 

You’d deal with the reality of whatever had just happened tonight in the morning.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fic #matt murdock series #matt murdock x fem reader #daredevil x female reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x fem!reader #fftd

[angst-cravings]

grinning like a devil

summary: cruel summer. but about matt murdock and you. you meet matt in a bar one day and you start hooking up, but you start falling for him.

pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader

words: 1.3k

an: you guys cruel summer was literally written about matt murdock you don’t even get it !!!!! also this is the first thing i’ve written in months so hopefully it’s okay <3

cw: mentions of sex

That first night felt like a fever dream. You had a tough day at work and just wanted to blow off steam. You decided to go to a different dive bar than you usually frequented, hoping to find an eligible bachelor or bachelorette to spend the night with. You’d been here – Josie’s – once with some friends, but you’d never been here alone. It was a different atmosphere than you were used to. Quieter than most bars, but it was almost cozy. It seemed like a perfect alone-drinking spot. You sat at the bar, ordered a drink, and started to scope the place. Your eyes flitted across the dingy room, hesitating on every face, then moving on to the next, until you resigned yourself to striking out tonight. Maybe you’d go somewhere else, maybe that club by your apartment? It was far louder, but you were more likely to find someone just looking for something for the night. 

But then you watched as a group of three entered the bar, smiling and chatting about something you couldn’t hear from the distance. 

First, you saw a man with longer blonde hair and a face-spanning grin. His eyes twinkled, and he was wearing a pastel pink button-up. 

Second, a stunning woman with beautiful blonde hair and striking eyes. She caught your eye, and you started planning your next moves—until the third. 

You first saw him laughing with his friends, and you immediately eyed him up. He was gorgeous. The rose-tinted glasses, the rolled-up sleeves, the loosened tie—it all intrigued you. He would be your target of the night. If he was single, of course. 

You quickly deduced that he was blind, mostly from his cane, and relieved yourself of the temporary worry that he had caught you staring at him. You looked over your shoulder at their table every so often to quickly analyze the dynamic. He didn’t seem to be dating either blonde, and the other two had gone up to get a round of beers already. It would likely soon be his turn, and that’s when you planned to approach him. 

But you didn’t need to. When it was his turn to grab a round, he (conveniently for you) walked up right next to you and ordered. You took a sip of your drink, set it down, and right as you were about to open your mouth, he started talking to you.

“Busy night here, huh?” He turned his face towards you with a slight smile, and your heart jumped. You got a better look at him. You could just barely see his eyes behind his glasses, dark, and gentle. He had a beautiful smile, with perfect teeth, and his stubble shaped his face wonderfully. You wondered how it would feel between your legs, and you quickly waved the thought away.

“This is busy? Man, I picked a lame bar to go to tonight.” You shifted in your seat to face him instead of craning your neck. 

“Oh, is it your first time?” You noticed one of his hands on the bar. Big, slightly roughed up, veiny. You swallowed, once again forcing the thoughts away.

“Are you asking me if I come here often?” You teased back at him with a smirk on your face, then nodded, “Yeah, it is.” 

“Well, that must be why it’s not as lame as it usually is.” He smirked back, now leaning his weight on the bar. He was practically on display, and you could see his build through his shirt.  “Matt.”

You offered your name back and then turned to wave down the bartender.

“Hey, can I have another?” You smiled at her, and Matt quickly interrupted.

“And I can cover this one, Josie.” 

Bingo. You were in. 

You spent the rest of the night chatting, lightly touching him, and making suggestive comments until he finally suggested that you spend the night with him. 

And it was amazing. Matt was one of the best lovers you’ve ever had. He was so in tune with your body and completely prioritized your pleasure. 

So you started regularly hooking up. Sometimes it was just sex, but you’d usually have a drink together beforehand. Whenever you two talked he seemed to be utterly enraptured by you, hanging on so tightly to every word that fell from your lips. And you gave the same back to him.

You figured he was hooking up with other women. You two were just hooking up, there were no rules, you weren’t exclusive. That’s what you told yourself, at least. Until you and your friends went to Josie’s one Friday and you spotted him chatting up another woman. You didn’t feel like you had developed feelings for him until then. Your heart plummeted. You immediately left the bar, excusing yourself to your friends, walked about a block down, and called a cab. You didn’t think you’d be able to handle seeing any more of it, and you also didn’t want Matt to know you were there.

So there you were, drunk in the back of the car, crying. You liked him so much. But you were so, so fucking scared to lose him. If you told him you liked him, he might run away. You were just hooking up.

So the next time you two met up you wanted it to be just hooking up. You denied the drink invitation and you had planned on leaving as soon as you two had finished. Or at least you tried.

You did your usual routine of going to the bathroom after sex, but this time you put your work clothes back on. As you returned to his bedroom, he frowned.

“Are you not coming back to bed for even a little?” He sat up, propping himself up on a pillow. “Not tonight, Matt,” You slid on your socks, “Maybe next time.” “How come?” “I have stuff I need to get done.”

“Are you alright?” Concern laced his face as if he could sense you were lying. “I’m fine, Matt.” You furrowed your eyebrows in frustration. 

“No, tell me what’s wrong.” He started to rise from the bed, quickly sliding into some clothes.

You let out a sharp breath. “What are we doing, Matt?” You were exhausted, and tired of putting up this facade. 

“What?” “I said, what are we doing?”

“No, I heard you. What do you mean?” 

“I don’t think I can do this anymore. I can’t just do this. I can’t just do hookups. I can’t just do drinks,” You close your eyes and take a deep breath. 

Before you can speak, he interrupts you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you felt that way. We can stop hooking up if you’d like.” His voice had a sad timbre, and you figured this would happen. He would be disappointed that you guys stopped hooking up, you would distance yourself, and you would likely never see him again. But you figured you should at least try. Better to confess now and hurt now than to fall even further. 

“I just want to say this before we do. I think… I think I love you. Or at least I’m falling for you.”  You didn’t want to scare him. You dug your nails into your palm, trying to curb the anxiety, forcing your eyes closed so you wouldn’t see the expression on his face. You could picture the shock, or the horror, or the disappointment, or the pity. Any of those would make sense. You’ve confessed to hookups before, or they’ve done the same to you, and it always ends the same way.  

You heard him breathe out your name. As you opened your eyes, you saw him grinning. Not what you had expected. Maybe he was happy to be away from you. 

“You have no idea how much you just terrified me.”

You bit your lip. “So what do we do from here? Do we stop hooking up?”

“Seriously?” “What?” He chuckled and walked over to you, “Okay, so going from here, I think we should go on a date. A proper one.” “Wait, what? I thought… I thought you would want to stop after that.”

“Sweetheart. I like you too. I would love to see where this goes.” He placed his hand on your cheek, cupping your face. Grinning like a devil. 

#thanks taylor for the inspo #daredevil x reader #gender neutral reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil #matthew murdock

[achaotichuman]

An AU where tamlin (disguised as female) and rhysand fall in love tthen tamlins like wait i have to tell u something then rhys finds outs hes tamlin and undergoes a sexuality crisis

YES, I LOVE THIS PROMPT. Don't know why but this is giving me a Cinderella retelling vibe. Btw sorry for the late response anon, but here's how I think this would go down.

*Trigger Warning- Innuendoes, non-explicit mature content.*

The white trail of her dress was like an angel's wings dragging across stone carved from the mountains of Hell. Lace lined her arms and the top of her breasts. A long slit ran up the side of her thigh, revealing the same lace work hugging her legs.

Golden hair spilled down her back and shoulders, flowers and rings of gold weaved through those luscious strands. Her shoulders and collarbone deliciously bare, off the shoulder sleeves hung over the lace of her forearms. An angel indeed, left in the company of devils.

Rhysand watched her from his throne. His eyes locked in on those slender legs as they moved her through the crowd. The females eyed her, disgust twisting in their face, constricting their eyes and noses. Males stepped out of her way as she moved past them like fluid.

A powerful, or perhaps idiotic, decision to wear such garments, not a stain on the white silk. A symbol of purity, as if anyone from this Godforsaken city could be called pure.

She looked up to the throne set high above the people below it. Her eyes were of the deepest green, as if they had been sucked from the heart of a forest, flecked with gold like stars. Their gazes locked and for a moment, the world ceased to exist, everything turning to a black void and low drone of voices. Even though her head was tilted up to see him, Rhysand couldn't help but feel like she was looking down on him, like his existence was worth little more to her than whoever else wished for her presence in bed, or hand in marriage.

Then she turned away, she turned away and every nerve in his body burned for her to look at him again.

What was this strange, heady feeling? Rhysand tilted his head, watching as she walked back into the crowd, unable to disappear from view, as she was a sliver of light in the sea of black and deep Night Court purple.

'Are you staring at her?' A familiar laughing voice boomed in his head. Rhysand allowed the smallest of smirks as he cast his eyes in the direction of his friend and General.

Cassian grinned back from his place beside Azriel, stationed close to the throne but not close enough that they overshadowed him.

'There are many 'hers' here tonight, Cass, enlighten me on which you speak of.'

'Oh, don't be so formal, High lord. The pretty one in the white dress, everyone's lookin at her.' He murmured it in such a low tone Rhysand had to suppress the urge to snap.

'Careful Cass,' Azriel murmured through the mental bond, 'Rhysand's already called first bite.'

'There is no first bite, Azriel.' Rhysand replied smoothly, 'Though it is a... proud choice to wear such clothing.'

'A cocky choice more like it.' There was Mor, Rhysand was wondering when she would but in with her opinion, 'To wear robes like that when our Court uniform is solely black, blue and purple is insulting at the least, an act of defiance at worst.'

'Calm yourself, Mor. She hasn't done anything as of yet.' Rhysand drawled.

'Apart from looking like an angel with her wings cut off.' Cassian said.

'Get back to work you three.' Rhysand ordered, shutting out the tones of his friends before resuming his former position, sitting on an oversized throne being bored as all Hell.

Rhysand scanned the ballroom again, watching the waltzing taking place before him. The deep, low tones of the music in the air hummed like background noise, nothing more than decorative festivities meant to give the people an opportunity to move their bodies in a fashion that wasn't simply standing around.

Music had never been the Hewn City's strong point. Such artistry was better off in Velaris, where good people could actually be found.

Rhysand sighed, if the Darkbringer's army wasn't so powerful he would have had Azriel and Cassian bring the foundations of this place down and allow the wicked cruelty festering down here to be crushed. That's all these people deserved after all.

Too lost in his own bored musings, Rhysand failed to notice the swift, silent steps coming for him until she was standing directly before him.

Rhysand near jolted but forced his body to remain calm. Up close she was even more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.

Her arms were toned and muscular, her waist clipped and hips flaring out to show off curvy thighs. For a moment the urge to grab them squeeze pricked his mind.

"You are standing before the throne, yet you are not on your knees?" Rhysand hummed, his voice deceivingly kind.

The female before him wasn't stupid and he figured that out quickly by the hardened glare she gave him. But it was clear to see she lacked fear of consequence, because the first words she spoke to him were, "Do you always just sit on your ass on this throne, or will you actually mingle with your own people?"

Rhysand opened and closed his mouth, completely and utterly at a loss for words.

"I beg your pardon."

"My pardon is granted; now will you answer my question?"

Rhysand stared at her, unable to form a coherent sentence that did not entail yelling his indignation. So, he opted for a gentle brush of his talons against her mind.

Finally, she narrowed her eyes and took a slight step back on instinct, remembering how dangerous the male before her truly was.

"Are you drunk, lady? Or perhaps do you lack self-preservation? You stand before my throne, asking insulting questions and assuming you give pardon to me?"

She tilted her head to the side as if she was truly pondering his question, "It has been mentioned that I lack any real self-preservation, but I like to call it a lack of tolerance for entitled self-serving Night Court royals."

Rhysand couldn't help it, he snorted, a quick, genuine sound. He had no idea how it even slipped past his defenses. Her lips quirked up in a slight grin, counting his reaction as a win on her side. He quickly coughed into his hand trying to cover the sound but that only seemed to serve to amuse her more.

"What is your purpose in antagonizing me, lady?"

"I am not antagonizing; I am asking a genuine question. Are you going to sit on your ass for the whole party, or will you join the festivities?"

"I'd hardly call this," He gestured to the stiff, tense dancing- if one could call it that- taking place below them, "Dancing."

She glanced at the people behind her, then she looked over him again. Her green eyes so sharp as they swooped up and down him like a predator's watchful gaze.

Even though she was but another Hewn City citizen that he could have tortured and executed if he wished for it, Rhysand couldn't help but feel as though he was not the one in control.

"Perhaps the people would be more responsive if their ruler joined them instead of sitting up so high above them." She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to her left leg as she waited for his reaction.

"Who are you to tell me how to rule my people?"

She grinned at his scowl. A grin with bone white teeth and sharp, gleaming fangs. Between that glowing smile and the way those gold specks in her eyes seemed to shine brighter, Rhysand felt his world shift from one side to the other and it was dizzying.

"I am the person telling you to get off your ass and come dance." She said.

Rhysand blinked his violet eyes; she blinked her green ones back.

"Are-are you asking me to dance?"

"No."

"No?"

She took his hand in her own. Her hands weren't soft and dainty, no, they were calloused and firm. Hands like his. Hands that were used.

She tugged and Rhysand, adding horror to curiosity, followed her silent order. He stood up.

The High lord was marginally taller than the female before him. But he was surprised at her height regardless. In a good set of heels, she would surely surpass him.

She was playing some game, doing something to him that Rhysand couldn't figure out.

"Asking would insinuate you had a choice to dance or not, you're dancing with me, that's final." Her cheeky pink tongue slid across her fangs, red spread across Rhysand's face. A strip of blotchy red that undoubtedly did not escape her cunning eyes.

Sucking in a breath, Rhysand tried to find the will to rebuke her. But before he even got a sentence out, she was pulling him down to the dance floor.

Looking out at the sea of people. Rhysand watched as jaws dropped and eyes widened. Even the music from the orchestra faltered for a moment as eyes went to the feared High lord of Night being half-dragged by a strange, beautiful female in a dress of pure white.

When Rhysand's eyes snapped to those watching they quickly resumed their ministrations. Pointedly not making any eye-contact with the Lord or the mysterious lady.

Once in the center of the room, she spun on her heel and put a hand to his shoulder, forcibly placing his hand on her waist. Then she smiled up at him. A beautiful display of pearly whites with a sweet gaze.

"Well High lord? Show us all what talents you keep hidden while you're sitting on the throne."

*** "What do you mean she can't be found?!" Rhysand yelled, Azriel didn't so much as flinch, Rhysand did notice the slight roll of his eyes.

"I mean no one can find her. Like she just," Azriel gestured to nothing, "Disappeared into the night air, and from what I've gathered, no one had ever seen her before."

"What does that mean?" The High lord hissed, knowing very well what that meant.

"It means your little crush wasn't from the Hewn City, somehow she snuck in there. Which means she could be from anywhere."

"Impossible. It's impossible to leave the Hewn City or enter it without my permission." Rhysand stood up from his chair, walking away from his desk and towards the large window behind him. Looking out over the view of Velaris. Soft evening sun was upon the world, casting tall shadows over the ground and filling the air with a soft cool breeze. The scattered lights of the city looked like stars on Earth.

"Even if she somehow snuck in as you say, she couldn't have left. The security is to tight."

"I don't know what to tell you Rhysand, she danced with you then disappeared."

"Impossible." Rhysand repeated shaking his head.

Her waist in his hand had been like heaven pressed against him. Looking down into her eyes are they moved, spun and turned had been a religious experience. Nothing in the world compared to her long fingers travelling up his neck to brush the underside of his chin. No drug in the world could ever get him higher then when she had let him spin her away from the ballroom.

"Hello, Night Court to Rhysand!" Cassian smacked the side of his head. Rhysand reeled around and went to punch him right in the throat, but the larger male caught his arm before he could get close.

"Give it up, Rhys, it's been a week. The girl's not comin back." His General told him.

"You don't get it, Cass. She..." How could he move on from that. From the heady feeling of her hands on his body, travelling to find any skin not protected by his clothing. Nothing could compare to her heavenly voice whispering back-handed compliments and jokes about him stepping on her toes.

"Cassian's right, Rhys. Let it go. Who knows? Maybe you'll find her again. For now, we have other priorities." Azriel insisted.

With a strained groan, Rhysand turned back to the window and put his hands to his head.

They were right, of course they were right.

But how could he focus on other things when he could only feel her lips on his skin when he led her out into the dark, empty hallways, away from the ballroom?

***

He dreamt of her. He dreamt of that night. Of her dress flaring out, brushing his legs as they danced. He dreamt of her laughter, a honey-sweet sound in the midst of so much darkness. He dreamt of her knowing smile, and the expression on her face. As if whatever game she was playing, she had won.

He dreamt of whispering in her ear. Turning up his charm, trying, near desperate for a chance as she seduced him within an inch of his life.

He dreamt of her hands wrapping around the collar of his shirt and her telling him to make it worth her while.

Pinning her against the cold wall. Rhysand buried his nose into the crook of her neck. She laughed and buried her fingers in his dark hair, pulling until he looked back into her eyes.

She smirked, a glint of danger in her eyes. Quicker than his hazy brain could think, she jutted her head down and nipped his neck, leaving a small bite mark. Rhysand near lost his damn mind. Roughly grabbing her hips he shoved her more forcefully against the wall. His own head going down onto her neck. Leaving darkened bruises on her pale skin.

She clicked her tongue, "So rough, needy, are we?"

"Gods above."

"The Gods aren't down here, High lord. No one but the devil is watching our sins." She murmured in such a seductively low tone; Rhysand may have lost a part of his mind to her in that very moment.

Trying to keep his thoughts on one track. Rhysand moved his hands up and down her thighs, bunching her skirts in his hands. Her breaths turned heavy, and her face went a splotchy red. Rhysand felt a smirk matching hers curling on his lips.

"You're right. No one's here to see how the Lord of Night plays with such alluring delights like you."

"All talk. No play." She drawled.

"Not one for foreplay, darling?"

"I'm one for proving you know how to wield the thing between your legs, darlin."

Rhysand loosened a near feral noise. But as he went to push back her skirts to reveal what was between her legs, the loud ringing of the stroke of midnight rang true through the Hewn City.

She sucked in a breath and drew back from him, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Is something amiss, lady?" Rhysand asked, trying to keep the hot, heady feeling of the moment but concerned for her reaction.

"Midnight." She whispered.

"Yes, lady." Perhaps she was on a curfew, that was true for a great number of females in this City, "Do not worry over any curfew, I will grant you-"

"No," She sharply pulled away from him, forcing his hands off her, "No, no, I have to leave."

"Lady, I-"

"This was good," She smiled, it was girlish smile that he hadn't seen before, almost an apology for her hasty escape, "This was good, but I must go."

Then she was sprinting down the hall. Dress following her like a cape. Rhysand watched her, stunned into immobility.

He looked at the place she had just been, then a vital thought crossed his mind. He didn't have her name. Without another thought, the High lord of Night found himself racing after her.

"Lady! My Lady, wait!" He called out, but she didn't slow. Grabbing the edge of a corner she whirled around and was gone from Rhysand's eyes.

As he rounded the corner and stared down the dark hallway. She was gone. Disappeared into thin air. If it weren't for her floral scent clinging to everything he was, he would've convinced himself she was never there.

***

Rhysand dug his spoon into the tasteless porridge before him. Flinging small scraps onto the table. He pointedly didn't look at any of his family.

After Rhysand set his cup of near empty coffee on the table with an unnecessarily loud clang, Mor growled, "Rhysand, what is your problem?"

"Nothing is my problem, Morrigan." He hissed back, finally looking up to meet her equally hateful stare.

"He's lusting after the angel he saw two weeks ago in the Hewn City. Mad he can't find her again." Cassian dobbed on him. Grinning as he swallowed his own breakfast.

"Angel? You mean the girl wearing white?" Morrigan rolled her eyes, "She was arrogant for wearing that. It was practically bridal wear."

"She looked like a Goddess on Earth." Rhysand cut her off.

Morrigan levelled him with a hard stare, "Rhysand, leave the shitty poetry for Tamlin."

Azriel nearly choked on his coffee as he started giggling, his shoulders shaking. Rhysand growled at all of them, "I don't understand how no one has seen her since. Azriel, instead of laughing, how about you go and make sure the sentries at the Hewn City aren't skimping on their jobs?"

Azriel held up his hands, in an 'I'm innocent' manner, "Don't snap at me. I have checked every nook and cranny. Skewered every sentry for information. No one saw her enter, and no one saw her leave."

Cassian hummed in a low tone, "There could be a weakness in the Hewn Cities defenses allowing people to enter and leave as they please."

"Which means you both check again. From top to bottom, side to side, I don't want one household, one corridor, one room unaccounted for."

"Yes, Lord fell in love after one dance." Cassian taunted as he stood from the dining table. Looking at Azriel, he jutted his head to the door and the Shadowsinger nodded. Standing up he gave Rhysand a warning glare, before he followed his brother out the door.

Only Mor and Rhysand were left in the room. Not for long as Morrigan stood up, picking up her plate before she looked down at Rhysand.

"That female was in the wrong for wearing a white dress. Don't waste your feelings on such women." Mor warned him, before disappearing as well.

Rhysand never got the chance to tell his cousin, that the cocky, self-assured attitude that female had was half the reason he was going insane for her.

***

A year passed and Rhysand never saw the female again. But he didn't forget that night. It repeated in his head over and over. He examined every word, every expression, every shift of her lips or eyebrows. Every movement of her dress shifting on her body. He didn't forget. Couldn't forget. In his hottest fantasies he sought out the feeling of her skin under his fingers, in his darkest nightmares it was her warmth he was drawn too.

Over and over, he spun himself in circles. Trying to forget and move on, but lulled back into her memory like she lived in his head. Always finding him, never letting him leave. At times Rhysand wanted nothing more than to comb through every household, every road, every path in Prythian just to hear her laughter in the distance. Other times he wanted to rip out his mind and meticulously pick her memory out of his head, just so he could focus on something else without her smile lurking in the corner of his thoughts.

Cassian and Azriel had long accepted he was going to take a good long while to get over her. So, they resorted to simple teasings and rolling their eyes. Morrigan was less inclined to entertain his pining. Snapping at him whenever his mysterious lover came up. Becoming colder and more reserved. He didn't know whys he was so affected by her. Why she hated the idea of this woman just for wearing white.

He supposed it should've been considered an insult for her to wear such as color when she had nowhere near the authority. But Rhysand couldn't bring himself to care.

He wouldn't see her again, that he was starting to convince himself of. Finally, on solstice when he went the whole day without thinking about her, Rhysand thought he was ridding himself of her.

Then he was invited to a solstice celebration, hosted by Helion.

They all went. Everyone did. Even the other High lords. The Day Court palace had been transformed into a party, decorated with gold and lights that swirled in his vision. The drone of voices filled the air. The smells of good food and wine enticed Rhysand to fall away from his entourage not long after they arrived. Blending into the crowd. Rhysand found a male offering drinks to all, he took a glass and sipped on the delectable liquid whilst observing the party from the outskirts.

People danced, spinning around, twirling, pushing and pulling. Music was in the air, blending into the mix of laughter and chatter.

"Don't have a throne to sit your ass on," Every part of Rhysand's body was set on fire as he heard the voice that haunted his dreams whispering in his ear. He couldn't even turn as a too familiar hand slid down his chest, "So you're standing out here, avoiding everyone."

Rhysand finally forced his eyes to turn, and there she stood. His memory did her no justice, for she glowed with an alluring nature that his mind could not capture. Those golden curls were decorated with the same flowers and golden rings as before, except tonight a pair of striking antlers stood out like a crown.

Instead of that heart-stopping white dress, she wore something very different but equally as royal, equally made Rhysand wished to tear it away. A suit of dark emerald, green, a pressed white shirt underneath a waistcoat decorated with striking golden embroidery that swirled in the shape of flowers. A long jacket made with the same material as the waistcoat covered her arms and slid around her waist. Rhysand wanted to rip it away and place his hands on her waist once more.

"It's you." He breathed, unable to say anything more.

"Miss me, High lord?" She murmured, voice falling into that seductive low tone. Rhysand went weak, becoming nothing but putty for her hands.

Near shaking, Rhysand took both her hands in his. Gently pressing a kiss to each finger, he whispered against her skin, "Dearly."

She took in a breath, when he looked up, he saw her green eyes were soft. Her face ethereal, warm in the light, divine like a Goddess.

"I missed you too." She admitted.

"My darling-" He started, then she pressed a finger to his lips.

"Come with me somewhere... private." She said, looking out at the sea of people.

His blood started racing. Heat warmed his cheeks. As much as Rhysand wanted to take her against the floor where they stood, he found a different desire was battling his sexual ones. The urge to pull her close, breathe in her scent and forget the rest of the world existed was getting stronger by the minute.

She held onto his hands tightly. Then she moved, dragging him along behind him like she did when she took him off the throne. Rhysand went more than willingly. She kept them in the shadows of the party. Not a soul paid them any attention.

They found an empty balcony. She all but shoved him out then closed the curtains and the glass door.

Finally, she tuned back to him. Oh gods, if she looked beautiful in the warm chandelier light, she looked bewitching in the silver of the moon. Rhysand nearly dropped to his knees. In that moment, if the female before him told him to martyr himself in her name, he would've and he would've done it smiling.

How did one person he met a year ago have such a hold over him?

"Darling." He meant to purr the word, but it came out broken, desperate, near begging. He planted his hand on her hips and pulled her close. Pressing his nose into crook of her neck like he had in his dreams an unaccountable number of times, "My darling."

She slid her hands up his chest and Rhysand felt higher than the moon itself. Felt like he was amongst the stars themselves.

Then she pushed him away. Rhysand panicked for a moment. Fear took hold of him, strangling him till he couldn't breathe. Fear she would run away. Fear he would never see her again.

"Wait-" he started. Then she grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, keeping him at an arm's length but not letting go. It eased only a sliver of his worry.

"Rhysand," She murmured. Oh, gods his name on her tongue was like being handed a slice of heaven itself.

"Yes, my darling."

"I... you have to forget me." She told him.

Everything spinning his world came to a crashing halt, "My... my lady, I-"

"Forget me, forget everything about me. This cannot be." She told him, beginning to let go of his collar. Beginning to let go of him.

He was quicker than her this time. This time he didn't let her leave him. He took hold of her waist and pulled her back to him.

"What do you mean it cannot be?"

"I cannot be with you, you not with me. It would never work. It... we can't."

"We can." Perhaps she was already engaged? A forced marriage maybe? Or was she worried about someone low-ranking being with a High lord.

"Rhysand-"

"It will work, I will make it work. I will kill any that need to be killed. I will fix anything that needs to be fixed. I will get on my knees for you if that's what you want, please just... don't leave me again."

Tears pooled in her eyes; Rhysand desperately wanted to get rid of them.

"There is something about me you must know Rhysand." She said.

"Tell me, whatever it is, I can handle it." He insisted.

She huffed a laugh and lightly shook her head, "You will hate me once you know it. You will hate me and you will make my life hell for it. I would rather you just forget me."

"No. Never." He nearly shuddered, what could she know that would possible invoke his wrath?

"You are going to hate me." She told him, not a question, a factual statement.

"Tell me anyway." He said.

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Stepping away from him she forced him to let go. He felt the need to reach out, but held himself back.

Then in the blink of an eye, she changed. Her suit changed as well to fit the new body it held. Her torso became longer. Her shoulders filled out the shirt more. In a second she was taller, almost exactly his height. Her jaw become more carved, slightly broader. But her eyes, hair and skin stayed the same.

Rhysand felt his mouth fall open as a ringing in his ear drowned out the background noise of the party.

Tamlin pointedly did not look at him. He looked out over the view of the Day Court. Rhysand's eyes could only look him up and down.

"I'm sorry Rhys." Tamlin murmured. His voice deepened, but still rich like the sweetest of honey, "I'm sorry."

How...

"I wanted to escape for one night. I went to the Hewn City, it was the only place completely and utterly removed from Prythian. I saw you and I... it pissed me off how high and mighty you looked. I didn't know how far it would go."

How did...

"I had to go back at midnight, lest Lucien and Andras send out a search party looking for me. But I... I couldn't stop... thinking about you." He whispered the last three words like they were cursed.

How did Rhysand never know?

Everything about Tamlin had remained Tamlin in his female form, except having a more feminine look and high-pitched voice. His personality remained precisely the same. The same sarcastic, dare-devil attitude. The same cocky, self-assured air about him. The same cheeky smart cunningness.

"I'm sorry for leading you on, but I-"

Rhysand laughed; he couldn't stop it. It burst from his throat like a tidal wave. He nearly doubled over. Tears springing from his eyes.

Tamlin's face turned from shock to indignation and finally mild amusement. He crossed his arms and waited for Rhysand to collect himself.

"You done, yet?" Tamlin drawled. Rhysand forced himself to take in a deep breath, controlling himself.

"Yes." Rhysand said.

They both looked at each other. This was the first real one-on-one interaction with each other since... since that night all those years ago.

"Do you hate me?" Tamlin whispered, "Not just for before but... for this?"

Rhysand barely heard the question, too busy watching the way a hair fell from its place to frame Tamlin's face.

"I..."

Did he?

He should. He had to. He had to feel angry for this. For being led on like this.

But he couldn't. The fire he had felt when Tamlin appeared in female form just minutes prior still burned, in fact... it was getting hotter.

"I don't know." Rhysand said.

Tamlin gritted his teeth, not liking that answer. He turned on his heel, striding away from Rhysand. He opened the glass door and called over his shoulder, "Well when you figure it out,"

Tamlin turned just enough to look Rhysand in the eyes, "You know where to find me."

Tamlin tossed the curtains open and they were faced with the Inner Circle staring at them with wide eyes and open mouths.

Tamlin just gave them a cocky grin and a wave before he strolled away. Heading for Lucien and Andras who called him over, oblivious to what had just occurred.

***

No one had spoken to him. And Rhysand didn't speak to them. Once they got home, he beeline for his office, shut and locked the door. They all assumed he was humiliated. Embarrassed at having been obsessed with the male he claimed to loathe.

Rhysand sat in his office for days. The shadow twins brought him meals. Neither speaking, just walking through the walls to hand him whatever they had prepared, then they left.

They all assumed he was thinking of ways to murder the male that had made him insane for a year.

They were all so far from the truth.

Rhysand sat in his chair, staring out at his city, wondering how Tamlin was still stuck in his mind.

He half-expected to at least be only thinking of Tamlin's female form. Still obsessed with how she looked.

But no, his mind wouldn't let him think of her, he could only think of him. Could only think of Tamlin's laughter, Tamlin's smile, Tamlin's face. Tamlin dancing with him. Tamlin touching him. Tamlin beneath him-

Rhysand scrubbed his face with dry hands. Trying to rid his mind of those thoughts.

He shouldn't think like that. He was a High lord for the God's sake. It was his Cauldron-given duty to marry a female. Fuck a female. Put an heir in a female. And give the Court their next High lord. All with a female.

What kind of reasoning was that? He shouldn't be thinking like this because it wasn't him. He didn't... males simply didn't think like that. It was... it wasn't.

What was he trying to convince himself of? Didn't he preach about Velaris being a safe haven for all that wanted to do as they wished with their bodies, give their love to whomever?

Everyone else could do what they wanted. But he couldn't. He wasn't like that. He just wasn't.

Right?

Right.

Tamlin's eyes appeared in his mind's vision and Rhysand nearly flipped his desk.

Slamming his head back against his chair, Rhysand groaned loudly.

He stared up at the ceiling, thinking the untouched white would distract him. It only served to make his mind wonder back into dangerous territory. Tamlin with his hand on Rhysand's shoulder. Tamlin nipping his neck with his sharp teeth. Tamlin grinning as Rhysand went down on his knees-

"God's above." Rhysand whispered.

'The Gods aren't down here, High lord. No one but the devil is watching our sins.'

Instead of a female's voice murmuring, it was Tamlin's. Rhysand lost his own breath for a moment, eyes shuddering closed.

Rhysand forced his eyes open. He forced himself to stand up, roughing brushing himself off. He looked out at the view of Velaris.

Hands trembling. He roughly threw open the window. Wings appearing on his back as his wards dropped. He fell into the wind and shadows of Night.

'Do you hate me?' That torturous voice whispered in the cavern of his memory.

"No." Rhysand spoke into the night as his wings snapped out and he shot up into the clouds.

"How could I ever hate the best thing that ever happened to me?"

The twins would go into his office the next morning with breakfast, and they would find an empty room. Mor would be frantic, and Cass and Az would search Velaris from top to bottom.

But they wouldn't find him, because Rhysand was going to the place his mind and heart had been stolen too.

Rhysand was going to Spring.

Rhysand was going to Tamlin.

Thank you so much for this prompt! It was very fun to write!

By the way this is what I imagine Tamlin's dress in the Hewn City to look like. Found this image on my Pinterest feed.

And here's the inspiration for Tam's suit at the Day Court party.

#acotar #tamlin #pro tamlin #rhysand #rhyslin #tamsand #tamsand au #acotar au #anon asks #acotar headcanons #rhysand being obsessed #as per usual

[pinkkittysaw]

I AM AFRAID NOT OF LEAVING, BUT BEING FORGOTTEN

*the title is part of a quote from the book Little Devil in America: Notes in Praise of Black Performance by Hanif Abdurraqib

pairing: clive rosfield x f!reader

summary: unable to deal with your bouts of insecurity, you try to call it quits on your relationship with clive

word count: 3.5k

content: hurt/comfort, established relationship, self flagellation (talks of insecurity and self doubt/deprecation), unhealthy coping mechanisms, allusions to anxiety, extremely self indulgent

(18+) this piece is sfw but am uncomfortable with minors interacting with my work

a/n: dealing with a lot of anxiety and thoughts of worthlessness/hopelessness so i created this in hopes of alleviating some of those feelings 👍

also if you’re interested, i listened to Need 2 by Pinegrove while writing this. figured it’d help set the mood while reading

divider by @/saradika

"You're still sleeping in the bunks? Clive returned yesterday, you know." Jill teases as she sits on the edge of the bed you've chosen to occupy for the past few nights. It wasn't unusual for you to reside in the bunks whenever Clive was away on an assignment; the big bed that occupies his chambers being too spacious to bear during nights spent alone.

What was unusual, however, was that you continued to spend your evenings there after he had already returned. Having once been so eager to jump into his sturdy arms after catching wind of his arrival back at the hideaway. You were often caught running down to the pier once the ferryboat came into view, excitedly waiting for him at the dock while waving your arms like a madwoman. When Jill heard from Clive that the two of you hadn't spoken since before he left, she immediately knew something was amiss.

"I'm aware," you grumble into the pillow that you're currently holding over your face.

"Did something happen between you two?" She probes, a frown forming on her features as she scoots closer to you. "Did he hurt you? Because I swear to Founder if he-"

"No, no, no, it's nothing like that," you interrupt, removing the pillow. "He's lovely. I just..." Hesitation creeps into your voice as your words trail off. To be honest, you're not quite sure how to describe what you're experiencing at the moment. "I'm feeling...unwell." Though it's not a physical illness that ails you, you hope that your response is satisfactory enough for her to leave the conversation be.

"Have you come down with something? I can help you to the infirmary if you need."

"It's nothing that serious. I'll be alright." You give her a half-hearted smile in an attempt to reassure her. She eventually yields, though still not convinced of your words.

With a shake of her head and a heavy sigh, she rises to stand. "He'll come looking for you sooner or later." Padding across the room from your bunk to the entrance, she looks back at you before making her exit. "You can't avoid him forever."

You scoff when she's just out of earshot. Like hell you can't, you think to yourself. Wearing your self-isolation on your sleeve like a badge of honor. Whenever you wanted to disappear from people's lives, you did, regardless of how much it hurt. This time was no different.

The truth of the matter is that you were avoiding Clive; the reasons for doing so were nobody's fault but your own.

In your eyes, you were so much weaker than he, often thinking you were undeserving of a man of his caliber. He harnesses the strength to take on entire eikons, whereas you peril in comparison, so after ruminating on your feelings of worthlessness one night, you decided to call it quits, figuring that it was for the best and choosing to avoid him so you didn't have to confront your own inadequacy. Perhaps it wasn't the healthiest choice, but it was the one you decided to go with.

The next few days are spent taking on as many assignments as you can, with the hope of eluding Clive. The majority of his time was spent away from the hideout, but you could never be too careful.

Rushing over to check the alliant reports at first light and carrying on well throughout the day. From dawn til dusk, you worked yourself to the bone only to collapse in your bunk at the end of the day, dead to the world, rising early from your slumber to repeat it all again the next day. 

Apparently, Clive caught on to your little scheme because, after one late afternoon, someone stood waiting for you at the pier upon your return to the hideaway.

After thanking Obolus, you make your way over to the fellow bearer to inquire about what's going on. "Clive's looking to speak with you in his chambers; he said it was urgent," she states.

"It can't wait?"

"He seemed rather insistent; best not keep him waiting."

"Of course, thank you for letting me know." You smile at her before making your way over to his chambers, grumbling to yourself. You climb the steps to his room with a pout on your face, not looking forward to the conversation awaiting you on the other side of the door.

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you extend your arm to gently knock on the door. "Come in." His voice calls out from inside the room.

You push apart the two slabs of wood separating his chambers from the main deck and step inside. He's sitting at his desk to your left, quill in hand, stripped down to just his tunic and trousers, his leathers and armor removed, while his sword rests against the wall. Fuck, you think to yourself. He must be set on staying a while. There's no escaping him this time.

You make quick work to occupy yourself with the objects scattered around the room as you move to stand in front of his desk. You're surprised to see a pile of your forgotten clothing neatly folded on the couch that sits against the opposing wall, as well as the various knickknacks you've added to his desk during your time together. Albeit an overreaction, you half expected your things to be tossed into the lake's abyss with how you were acting. 

"Ah," he says as he looks up from his writing, setting down the quill. "There you are. I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of having your clothes washed, should you want them back."

"But if not, I could always make space for them here."

Your eyes meet his as the statement leaves his mouth. It's an invitation, an olive branch extended to you in hopes of making peace. The implication of his words, the domesticity of it all, leaving bits and pieces of each other in one another's lives, even after all that you've done to push him out of yours, leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth, making you realize just how truly undeserving of his love you really are.  

A mumbled "Thank you" is all you can offer him in response.

"It's no problem." He stands up from his seat; both his hands lay flat on the desk below as he peers down at you. "I've heard you've been making yourself quite scarce lately."

"Your undertaking of assignments has increased significantly. It's almost as if...you've been avoiding me." He states it like a question, trying to gauge your reaction and see if you'll give him something he can latch on to.

"That's not true," you scoff. It is true, and you both damn well know it, but you keep up the facade anyway.

He exhales the breath he was holding, easing up on the interrogation. "I admit, I've been spending more time away from the hideout, but you can't seriously expect me to believe that your behavior lately is normal."

"I haven't seen as much as a glimpse of you since before I left."

Frustration grows in your belly; you're tired of running, tired of hiding, and tired of pretending. "I can't do this anymore, Clive."

"Can't do what?"

"This. Us."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just not good enough for you... or anyone."

"I shouldn't even be here. I'm not strong enough to fight alongside the cursebreakers," you gesture into the open air. "I lack the wit to come up with strategies to help take down the Mothercrystals, and I've got as much charm as a bloody morbol."

"I've read the missives from the past few days, all of which praise you for your tact, your kindness, dedication, and care. Just because you're not on the frontlines doesn't mean you're not making an impact."

"What good is any of it?" You raise your voice. "What good is helping with crops, fetching supplies, and slaying meager monsters if it's the next day that our people are led to slaughter?"

"The imperials tighten their grip across the realm with each passing moon, and what I do in the grand scheme of things is the equivalent of sitting on my arse twiddling my thumbs. I'm about as useful as a corpse."

"ENOUGH." His voice boomed and bellowed, loud enough that people down on the main deck probably turned their heads at the sound. "Sit," he commands, pointing to the couch across the room, and you dare not disobey.

Embarrassed that you've stirred up such a fuss, you sit yourself down on the piece of furniture and hang your head low, preparing for a scolding. Not that it wouldn't be deserved; Clive has enough to worry about with the Mothercrystals and bearers, now having to also quell the insecurities that linger in your heart.

Just suck it up and do better is what you've always been told, but try and try and try as you might, you can never seem to get there. You're never enough. Can your strengths even be called strengths if there's so many out there who can do everything you do but better?

You don't bother raising your head to him as he paces back and forth, not wanting him to see another weakness of yours in the form of your tears. He gives a heavy sigh as he collects his thoughts, pinching his nosebridge while searching for the right words. "I apologize for raising my voice, but I simply cannot bear how critical you are of yourself, especially when I know for a fact that your fears are unfounded."

He marches up to where you sit on the couch, caressing your cheek and nudging your face in his direction. You can't bring yourself to meet his icy blues, knowing your heart would burst at the seams under his gaze or the kind smile that he reserves just for you. You don't deserve it, not with the way you've acted, so instead you turn your head in the opposite direction, refusing to indulge in his affections. His grip is a tad more firm as he attempts to move your face once more. You don't have the strength to resist his pull, so you let him maneuver your jaw to face him.

Tears begin to flow down your cheeks, and your lower lip wobbles as you attempt to hold in your sobs. His eyes widen as he sees the state that you're in, and with a gentle finger, he lifts your chin up.

"Will you look at me, please?" His voice isn't as strong as it once was moments before. There's a small break in his tone, almost as if he's pleading with you. Feeling exhausted now, you lift your eyes to meet his. They're not filled with anger or disappointment, but with concern, and more tears pool in your waterline as you scan his face.

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispers, bringing his thumbs to wipe away the tears spilling from your eyes before sitting down beside you. He surveys your sullen expression before pulling you into a hug. His warmth surrounds you in his embrace, and a part of you hates how secure it makes you feel.

Always relying on others to get by, you'd be dead without him, and you know it. You're a hopeless, bumbling mess trying to find your way through a dark maze.

You cry more into his shoulder, soaking through his tunic with your tears, despite your best efforts to remain unfeeling and stoic. It's all too much all at once, and his comfort only agitates the ache deep within your heart.

"Let it all out; I'm right here."

"You're safe," he murmurs in your ear, stroking a comforting hand up and down your back.

"I don't deserve you, Clive."

"You don't deserve to see me like this," you manage to choke out between sobs. The force of your crying is so violent against him that you start hiccupping and gasping for air.

He doesn't respond to your claims, not yet anyway, knowing that doing so would only rile you up more—choosing to hold you instead, rocking you slightly from side to side. He waits for you to calm down before addressing you, and you don't attempt to speak again, your shortness of breath not allowing for any more words to be uttered. You allow yourself to rest in his arms like you've done many times before, and after a short while, your wails are reduced to nothing but sniffles.

Once you've become a bit more settled, he pulls away from the embrace only to fetch a hankerchief, giving you a few minutes to collect yourself. He sits back down with you, his free hand grasping yours firmly, grounding you. The weight of his fingers interlocked with yours serves as a reminder that he's here; he's with you.

"I apologize for the outburst," you say, wiping your face down with the cloth before shifting your attention to him once more.

"No need for apologies, my love. I'd much rather you cry in my arms than continue to bottle this feeling inside you and let it fester."

You look away from him, turning toward the gaps in the wall of his chambers where the sunlight peaks through. You stare out at the lake below, watching as the black water laps at the walls of the hideaway.

Your voice takes on a somber tone when you speak next. "You deserve someone better than me, Clive, someone stronger." The air surrounding you two is still but its weight is all too heavy.

"Don't be ridiculous," he chides, his body turning to face you as he throws an arm over the backrest of the couch.

"If only I was." You let your words drift off into the ether before speaking again. "You deserve someone who can bear the weight of her own burdens, who's strong enough to not fall apart at every small inconvenience, someone who doesn't need to run into the comfort of your arms like a petulant child. I'm not worth everything you do for me—the kindness, the generosity, the love—none of it."

He scoots closer to you, bringing a hand to grasp at your hip, his thumb stroking it back and forth. "Is that not my right as your lover? To see you at your weakest and most vulnerable and still love you anyway?"

"I'm nothing, Clive. It's been that way since the day I was born. I'm not worth trying to save, just deadweight that needs to be tossed overboard."

"You think I'm a sinking ship, then? that I can't ‘handle’ you?" He gestures in the air.

"I can barely handle myself. Let's just end this before it's too late."

"Don't I have a say in the matter? You're making all these decisions about us without so much as a forethought for how I feel."

"It's better this way."

"Better for who? The self-destructive thoughts in your head? Because it's certainly not better for me and I'd go as far to say that it's not what you really want either. So pray tell, what's the real issue here?Where is all this stemming from?"

You shoot a glare his way—a defensive one, but still a glare nonetheless.

He reaches out to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. It feels like no matter what you do, it's always wrong. Here you were acting like a brat to the man you loved, and here he was, being patient with you like a saint.

You relent, letting him have a peek into the inner world that you've kept a secret all this time. "There's a horrible weight in my chest carried with me wherever I go, wrapped up tight in my gut like a ball of twine, and no matter what I do, it comes back. I can't shake it. I can't shake anything. I'm still here, a mess of fear and nerves."

"I'm angry, vengeful, and mean, but at the same time, I'm scared of everything, timid and fragile as a mouse. If weakness were a person, it'd be me. Sometimes it's a miracle that i'm even able to do the things I do. I rely on you too much, and it scares me."

"You're anything but weak, my love. In fact, I think being vulnerable and open like this takes immense strength." He continues to caress your face.

"I'm not strong enough to fight alongside you. I'm useless when it comes to taking down the Mothercrystals."

He chuckles. "If physical strength was all I cared about, I would have taken a brute as my lover."

"Clive…" You roll your eyes in a playful manner, appreciating his attempt at lifting your mood.

The sun is setting now, and his chambers are tinted with a pale orange-yellow hue. The light reflects off the water, and you gaze upon the lake below while his gaze lingers on you.

"Come," he states, extending a hand as he stands up from the couch. You take his hand in yours as he leads you over to the gap in the wall, both admiring the sunset together. It's a beautiful evening; the clouds are painted pink and orange as the sun dips below the horizon.

"I'm serious, you know," he nudges your shoulder. The beginnings of a smile paint your features—a smile that he takes as a small win.

"Clive, I-" He presses a finger to your lips, silencing you. "Just listen, please," you nod, and he turns, facing the scenic view again, the sunlight bouncing off the yellow tones of his skin. "Do you remember traveling to the Apodetry all those years back? When I couldn't grapple with the fact that I was Ifrit and very well may have killed my own brother?"

You don't say anything, but you nod, and then he continues. "I'm not sure if I ever would have come to terms with it if you weren't by my side." He lets out a small sigh. "You say that you can't handle your own burdens, that I deserve someone stronger, but the truth is, without you, I might never have been able to bear my own. I'm not sure if I'd be the man I am today if I didn't have you, so don't you dare imply that I'd somehow be better off without you."

"You're right when you said I don't need you. It is not a matter of need or deserving, my love, but a matter of want. I want you. I desire you so wholeheartedly."

"I know that I alone am not enough to quell these thoughtsof yours, especially after the life you've lived-" he turns to face you again, his thumb grazing the leftover scar on your cheek from the removal of your brand, "-but please believe me when I say that you do matter, and not just to me, but to everyone here, to every person you've helped, to every soul you've graced with your kindness. Would you say those who work in the backgarden are unworthy of being here, simply because they don't wield a blade and march in the frontlines?"

"No," you pout.

He smiles. "Then I implore you to extend that same kindness to yourself." He steps closer, moving to nuzzle your nose with his. "Though you're not taking down Mothercrystals, you're showing people that there's still hope—that kindness can still exist in a world where harsh cruelties befall those who never deserve it."

"A twinkling light is left with everyone you help, no matter how minuscule it seems."

"We chose this undertaking so that dominants and bearers alike could live the lives they choose. If a life of peace is what you want, then it's one that you shall have. You shouldn't be fighting each and every day just so you can make it to the next."

Both of your foreheads press together as he continues to speak. "You don't need to throw yourself to the wolves. You're done with having to earn through suffering. You're done having to prove your worth. You don't have to earn your right to exist and be happy, not with me or anyone else here."

He presses his lips against yours. "I love you," he whispers in between the kiss. "Your vulnerabilities, your fears... They are not shortcomings, my love. They are what make you who you are, and though I wish I could make your pain a bit more tolerable, I wouldn't change a single thing about you, ever."

He presses more kisses on your lips, sweet, loving, and gentle. "You are my strength, my everything. I love you so much."

Bathed in the dying light of the sun, you hold each other tender with a slow brushing of lips against each other, and though such demons of the mind aren't so easily bested, you're given a moment's solace in the warm embrace of your lover, knowing that no matter what ails you, you'll face it together.

"I love you too, Clive."

#clive rosfield x reader #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy xvi x reader #final fantasy 16 x reader #x reader #hurt/comfort #angst #clive rosfield angst #final fantasy angst #final fantasy xvi angst #final fantasy 16 angst #✰ミ angel writes

[the-mighty-jellybean]

The Hound of Hell's Kitchen

Series Summary: "We are only as blind as we want to be." Maya Angelou

Y/N Y/L/N was not prepared to be hindered by how the world viewed her position in society, not even the law was going to define, who she was as a person. Strong, brave and true of heart. The very qualities that make her so attractive to the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

Pairings: Matt Murdock x Reader

Series Warning: Fluff, Eventual Smut, Angst and a little childhood trauma, just to really spice some things up. Strong Language

(18+ Only)

Chapter Two: Bottled Up

Chapter Warnings: Strong Language, Violence, Slight Gore

Word Count: 3.9k

"That isn't me." Y/N lied, sitting back in her chair, looking between Matt and Foggy.

"I think we all know that, that isn't true, Y/N." Foggy quirked a brow at her, Y/N's eyes darting between the two.

"Look," Y/N leant forward, pressing her fingers together to make a triangle in front of her, she leaned heavy on her elbows, "That Alpha was throwing his weight around, he was pressuring that little girl, perusing her."

"So you decided to throw him through a train door, and break his arm?" Matt tilted his head upright, also lifting his eyebrows.

"He wasn't going to stop," Y/N huffed, "Alpha's like that never do."

Her voice goes faint at the end, Matt's lips twitch again, this time, Y/N couldn't tell whether it was because he was uncomfortable or angry.

'Fuck this Alpha was hard to read…but my god is he pretty-wait what?!

The toner he was wearing was strong, it was so distracting, she could barely tell what emotions he was scenting.

"Well now he's pressing charges of assault and battery." Foggy, explained glumly. That quickly snapped Y/N out of her thoughts.

"Battery?" Y/N snorted, "I hardly touched the dirty bastard."

"I think the broken arm, and the video evidence of you sending the man through the train doors might be a give away." Foggy bit his lip, both the men seem genuinely sorry for Y/N, but she couldn't allow herself to so easily trust these men.

"What I'd like to know, is how a Beta of your size and build is able to lift an Alpha off the ground by his throat, and launch him with such force he lands almost 40 feet away from where he started?" Foggy pressured, once again Y/N was tapping her feet. “Are you enhanced?”

"Something like that." Y/N fiddled with the hem of her jumper, before bringing it to her mouth to chew on.

"Don’t do that with your jumper,” Matt instructed, Y/N immediately dropped the sleeve from her mouth, a look of shock on her face, Matt shuffled in his seat, sitting forward, “we need you to be honest with us Y/N, if you want us to help you.”

‘I’m honestly confused as fuck...as to why I stopped chewing my sleeve’

Y/N stared blankly at the Alpha for a moment, confused as to why she would naturally listen to this man, this man who can’t even see her, so how did he know she was chewing her sleeve?

“I want your help, please just tell me what I have to do." Y/N breathed ignoring Matt’s request, "you're my council, how the hell do I fix this mess?"

"Well we're gonna start by getting you released on bond, on the grounds that you weren't informed on why you were brought her, that alone should get that fixed, and then we'll worry about the rest later." Matt reassured, Y/N nodded along.

The two men stood, Y/N reached her hand out, and the two men took it in turns to shake it, first Foggy, and then Matt.

When Y/N and Matt's hands met, and their skin slotted together, it felt like sparks flew up each others arms, like their very touch created it's own source of electricity.

Both of them quickly pulled back, Y/N brushing her hand on her thigh, and quickly dropping her gaze away from Matt, who seemed just as stunned and awkward.

“Sorry, must be storm coming, lots of static in the air.” Y/N shrugged, not quite believing her own explanation. Matt stayed silent, a distant look on his face.

Foggy cleared his throat, jolting Matt back to reality, and the two of them left awkwardly.

'Well that was weird.'

Moments later, the two men reappeared, flagged by the same arresting officers.

"Well you're free to go." The officer, seemed to be talking through his teeth. "For now, head to the front desk, and they'll give you the rules of being released on bond."

Y/N nodded, standing, she followed the four men down the corridor, back to the desk she had been checked in an hour or so ago. The woman explained the rules, but Y/N couldn't concentrate.

She was stood right next to Matt, she could hear his heart in his chest, it was beating fast and strong. A thin layer of sweat was pricking his forehead, and his grip on his cane was making his knuckles turn white.

'Is he sick?'

Her eyes darted to the side, his cheeks were flexing and his jaw twitched.

'What was this dudes problem?'

Eventually the woman finished, Y/N signed some papers, before being led out the station, to the bustle of the busy city.

"Well thanks," Y/N flashed a smile, before turning away from the two men.

"You're welcome, we'll be in touch." Foggy waved, before grabbing Matt by the arm and leading him away. Matt's eyes seem to linger on Y/N for a little longer, before he allowed himself to be walked away by Foggy.

---------

Y/N rushed down the avenue, desperate to get to the shop before Jordan closed up for the night. She was gonna need her backpack, within the next few hours or her blocker was going to wear off, and she was going to be vulnerable tonight.

She ran as fast as her legs would carry her, not caring about the people she was knocking out the way, mumbling a rushed apology as she carried on running.

Fumbling to a stop, she pressed her palms on her knees as she gasped for breath, bending in half. Managing a few choked breaths before looking up at the sign in front of her.

CLOSED

"Goddamit." Y/N cursed, reaching up to fist her hair.

'What the fuck am I going to do.'

---------Later that night----

"Please! No! Please." The man crawled back desperate, not caring as he cut his palms on the broken glass, as he tries to kick himself away.

Slobber fell heavy on the ground, nothing by grinding teeth, and low growls, echoed around the alleyway.

The only thing the man could see through the dark, was the glowing yellow eyes, that stare savagely back at him. The eyes hung like lanterns in the pitch black abyss.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" the man begged, holding his hands up to protect himself, desperately waving them around in the dark.

Then he felt it.

The wet nose of a...dog?

"Y-you're...an O-omega?"

It was cold against his palm, for one brief moment, he sat confused, but he didn't have time to think anything else, before the cold sensation of a nose was replaced by the ripping sensation of skin, as the creature pealed the man's skin off his hands.

The man shrieked in agony, kicking wildly, but the animal soon got hold of his upper arms, before finally making it to his face.

Soon the alleyway fell silent of human cries, instead filled with the sound of cracking bones and tearing tissue.

-------- early hours of the morning

Y/N stood outside the precinct alone. She was panicking, hard. Quickly, shoving her bandaged hands into her pocket, as a group of officers walked by her.

She hadn't managed to get hold of Jordan all night, she hadn't applied her spray in hours, and she didn't know what to do. She managed to find an old bottle of toner, under her bed, but it wasn't going to be enough. She probably wreaked of Omega at this point. people passed her in the street, when they looked at her, she worried they could smell her fear, and sweet fragrance.

Y/N was so caught up in her own thought, that she nearly punched Matt in the face, when he lightly touched her forearm, spinning round to face him.

"Sorry...sorry didn't mean to frighten you." Matt apologised hastily, his hand still rested on Y/N's arm.

"You didn't," Y/N lied, she must stink of Omega, and Omega anxiety, "I was already on edge, where’s Foggy?”

"I can tell," Matt confessed, he eventually released Y/N's arm, when he realised he was still holding it, "he’s on his way, running late, his Omega, was feeling unwell this morning. What happened to your hands?"

Matt scented strongly of concern, and every fibre of Y/N's Omega being, wanted to just fallen into his embrace, but she managed to keep herself composed. For now.

Y/N was quick to put her hands back in her pockets, wincing when the bandages pulled on the fabric in the process.

"Broke a glass, I'm clumsy." Y/N nodded, shuffling from side to side.

"Quite a glass?" Matt commented, "You sure you're okay?"

"Well not really, god knows what they're going to say to me today." Y/N confessed, pursing her lips.

"It's gonna be okay, we'll look after you...I'll look after you."

Y/N's face faltered at that statement, and it was clear Matt had made himself uncomfortable.

"You smell..."

"I did shower this morning." Y/N interrupted, sniffing under her armpits and the collar of her shirt, scenting embarrassed.

"No," Matt laughed, but his smile dropped, "you smell different today? You smell like...an Omega."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, she felt like she'd just swallowed a glass of wet cement, and she feared she'd never breathe again.

'Oh fuck...fuckfuckfuck....an Alpha knows...knows I lied’

“But yesterday you…”

“I never said I was a Beta, people just assume, because I have a lot of confidence.” Y/N panicked, her breathing laboured, the smell of her own anxiety was choking her.

“Y/N-“

“Please-Matt-Alpha-Mr Murdock, please don’t tell anyone.” Y/N was pleading, pleading for her life.

It was bad enough she assaulted an Alpha, under the pretence of being a Beta, but for an Omega to assault an Alpha, Christ this would be it.

“Hey, hey it’s gonna be okay,” Matt stepped forward, he turns to rest his cane on the wall behind him, before turning back to Y/N and taking hold of both her forearms, “shhh, it’s okay, don’t be scared.”

Matt’s hands slide down from her forearms to the underside of her wrists, he rubs slow circles into them, making sure he scents calm and reassuring.

“You don’t understand, I’ve committed a serious crime.” Y/N felt the sting of tears, and she didn’t know what was more embarrassing the fact she was whimpering like an Omega mess in a strangers arms, or the fact she was doing it so publicly right outside the precinct.

“Please don’t get upset, be calm Omega.” Matt’s voice was stern, but it gave Y/N great comfort. The command of ‘Omega’ was enough to bring Y/N back to the real world.

“But I can’t go in there, Matt, I’ve broken a serious law.” Y/N was still flustered, but she felt herself leaning into Matt, her instinct leading her to calm herself in the crook of Matt’s neck. She managed to hold herself back, and reserve some of her dignity.

“It’s gonna be okay, I’ve got some blocker spray in my pocket, it’ll dull your hormones enough that you should be undetectable, when we’re in there.” Matt jutted his head in the direction of the doorway, and Y/N felt her stomach sinking. She couldn’t stop the panic.

“Y/N, breathe, honey,” Matt encouraged, he was scenting calm so strongly, he worried that half the precinct would be asleep by the time they got in there. “Just breathe, everything is gonna be okay.”

Y/N took some shaky breaths but she was able to get herself back into some kind of control. Matt reached into his suits inner pocket and pulled out a little bottle not too dissimilar to Y/N’s.

“Here, spray this quickly.” Matt instructed, and Y/N did not need to be told twice. She was quick to apply it to her neck and her wrists, and then handed the bottle back to Matt, who tucked it back away.

“Thank you.” Y/N sighed, managing to get her breathing back under control. Y/N felt her sensitive scent dampen, the spray hadn't been a block, but a very strong toner, she suspected it was just as illegal as her blocker spray, but she didn't think now was the time to discuss, something like that.

“Don’t mention it,” Matt reassured, his lips twitching into a smile, “I want to keep you safe.”

Y/N furrows her brow and opens her mouth to ask Matt a question but she was interrupted by the scent of sweat and gasping breaths.

“Sorry-sorry I’m late.” Foggy rasped from behind Matt, he leaned heavily on Matt’s shoulder, as he tried to steady his breathing, “Karen was very unwell-didn’t want to leave her-alone.”

“So where did you leave her?” Matt questioned.

“With Danny and Colleen, he says he’ll try and make her better?” Foggy nodded, Matt gave a singular nod of acknowledgement, whilst Y/N stood still just as confused as before.

“Are they some kind of doctors?” Y/N asked.

“Umm, no not really,” Foggy fumbled, he fiddled with his tie, “more of a natural herbalist thingy.”

“Riiiight, didn’t think a man like yourself would believe in that shit, but hey it’s your life not mine.” Y/N smiled, a very in-genuine smile, “now speaking of life’s…shall we see where I’ll be spending the rest of mine.”

Y/N gestured to the building with her head, keeping her hands firmly in her pocket and the two men nodded in agreement, before following Y/N inside.

——

Y/N stood before the officer, looking to the floor, she rubbed her thumb anxiously across her bandaged knuckles. She was doing it so aggressively Matt worried she might peel her own skin off.

"Well...Y/N, you're free to go." the officer grumbled, signing the papers in front of him aggressively.

"What?" Foggy stated confused, Y/N said nothing but kept her head down, finding the floor of the precinct fascinating.

"The charges against you are dropped." The officer, says, begrudgingly.

"On the account of?" Matt chimed in.

"On the account of the complainant being found dead this morning, in an alleyway in Hell's Kitchen." The officer stated, bluntly, seeming completely bored by the whole ordeal, if not a little frustrated he was able to let Y/N go so freely.

"So that's it then?" Y/N looked up briefly, shuffling side to side on her feet. "I can go."

"Yeah you're free to go, take this," The officer hands a release form to Y/N, "sign here," he directs Y/N to an empty dotted line, which she scribbles her name down hastily. "Right, clear off."

Y/N snorts, rolls her eyes, and pushes her way through Foggy and Matt heading towards the door.

"What the hell happened to this guy?" Foggy asked, Y/N paused at the door, her ears twitching for a moment.

"Found the dude in an alley, his face torn to shred, had to use tattoo identification." The police officer shrugged.

"Not dental?" Matt quirked his head to the side, Y/N noticed that he was tilting it back in her direction slightly.

"Teeth were shattered, and some of them were...missing."

"Missing." Foggy sounded horrified, and that was all Y/N needed to hear, before she pushed the door open and swiftly exited.

Y/N was quick to walk away from the precinct, as fast as her legs could carry her. Heading for the shop, so she could pick up her bag from work.

In her own little world, she looked behind her briefly, before coming to a sudden holt as she collided into something solid, with great force.

She hit the "wall" so hard, Y/N had to stop herself from falling backwards, a hand grabbed her waist, balancing her out.

"Jesus Christ, watch where you're going-" Y/N stopped short in her sentence, as she stared at her own red reflection in the glasses of Matt Murdock. "What are you doing?"

"Why did you leave in such a hurry?" Matt asked her, Y/N swallowed thickly, but kept her face steel nonetheless.

"I was done, I got released, I'm not sure about you but I don't hang around precincts to get me kicks." Y/N jested, Matt smirked, scenting strongly of amusement, it made Y/N feel warm inside, she shook her head to get rid of the dreamy feeling that started to cloud her mind.

"It's kind of an occupational hazard," Matt shrugged, "What with being a lawyer and all."

Y/N rolled her eyes playful, she couldn't help the little smile that danced across her face, but the smile dropped momentarily.

"How did you get here so fast?" Y/N wondered, looking back in the direction she came, and then back to the Alpha standing before her.

"Short cut," Matt lied, "I wanted to talk to you-"

"I don't have time for this, Matt, I've got places to be." Y/N tries to move passed the deceptively quick blind man, but she's unsuccessful, as he grabs hold of her bicep. Y/N hisses, but gulps when she catches herself. "Sorry." she mumbles, quickly.

"It appears you have quite the temper, Miss Y/L/N." Matt points out, Y/N could hear the Alpha tone he was using, he was trying to assert dominance, scenting strongly of authority.

However, Y/N was just about able to shrug him off.

"Oh you don't know the half of it." Y/N rolled her eyes, fixing her jacket, which had been ruffled by Matt's grip.

"I'd like to." Matt purrs, Y/N shuffles uncomfortable, and she scents regret from the Alpha, whose shoulders drop when he realises, he might have offended the Omega. "Sorry, I just mean, I'd like to get to know you better...I find you...fascinating."

"Fascinating?" Y/N showed an obvious look of offence, but quickly remembers the man in front of her can't see her, so she loudly scents annoyance, "Fascinating? I'm a person, not an experiment. Not some animal in a zoo, you can poke at with a stick. Good day, Mr Murdock."

Y/N didn't give Matt a chance to respond, before she turned and walked with pace, and vigour.

-----

Y/N managed to get to the shop, just before Jordan was closing up for lunch, sweat poured off her forehead, and she flapped the collar of her shirt, wildly, to create some kind of air circulation around her clothes.

"Jordy." Y/N panted, catching the Beta's attention, he turned to look at Y/N, but his expression read far from happy.

"Y/N." Jordan spoke bluntly, he disappeared back into the shop, yet before Y/N could follow him in, he came outside again, physically blocking Y/N from entering. Y/N furrowed her brow, and looked down at Jordan's hand where he clutched the strap of her backpack.

Y/N's eyes widened when she realised the front pocket was open, the spray gone from inside of it.

"Looking for this." Jordan said coldly, holding the spray between his finger and thumb, Y/N felt the blood drain out of her head, heavy in her feet. She thought she was going to faint, but she managed a few shaky breaths.

"What's that?" Y/N tried to play it cool, but she knew Jordan could see in her eyes that she was panic stricken.

"Don't lie to me, Y/N," Jordan spat, "Don't lie to me...anymore."

Y/N looked to the sky, taking a step back, and biting her lip hard, mainly to control the whimpering cries that wanted to break loose from her chest.

"Jordy, I'm sorry-"

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" Jordan gritted through his teeth, "Sorry that you brought illegal blockers into my shop? Sorry that you lied about being a Beta? Sorry that you could have lost me my business, and send me to jail in the process? What? Hmm? Which bit are you sorry about? Roughly?"

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut, hoping that this whole situation would go away.

"I'm sorry for all of it Jordy. I'm so sorry about all of it." Y/N cried, she looked at Jordan pleadingly, but she was met with nothing but a hard stare. "Please don't tell anyone, please."

"Who am I going to tell? The cops? Then lose my business and go to jail for employing an Omega?" Y/N let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, but her relief was short lived, "No, I want you out of here, you don't come near me, or my business again, you understand me?"

"But Jordy, please-"

"Leave, Y/N!" Jordan roared, throwing Y/N's backpack and spray at her, bottle bouncing away, "And take this shit with you, you disgusting, bender."

Y/N couldn't believe what was happening, what Jordan had just called her, how her life seemed to just be going from one poor fortune to the next.

Y/N scrambles to grab her things, first the spray, which had gone skidding across the sidewalk, then grabbing her bag, shoving the bottle in the pocket, and hastily walking away.

She felt Jordan's eyes blazing into the back of her head, as she breaks into a sprint heading back towards her apartment. Eyes burning strong, Y/N fought with all she had to keep her tears at bay, at very least until she had made it home, to the safety of her one room, apartment.

Slamming the door behind her, Y/N falls to her knees, curling up on the rough surface, of her damp rotting floorboards.

However, before she could really wallow in her sorrow, there was a brisk and firm knock on her front door. At first Y/N wanted to ignore it, remaining where she was. Yet another knock came, this time followed by a stern voice.

"Y/L/N, open up, it's your landlord."

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, momentarily, before heaving herself to her feet, and staggering towards the apartment door. Opening the door slightly, she peaked out through the narrow gap she had left herself, looking at the battered black boots of her Landlord Mr. Fitzgerald.

"Mr Fitzgerald, how can I help you." Y/N rasped, still looking to the old man's boots.

"Rent, that's how you can help me." Fitzgerald ruffed, Y/N felt her chest tighten, and she rested her forehead on the doorframe, closing her eyes.

"I don't have it yet." Y/N sighed.

"That's the third time, your rent has been late." Fitzgerald scented of anger and irritation, "You have till the end of tomorrow or you're out. Understand?'

"But, Mr Fitzgerald-"

"Tomorrow evening, or you can pack your shit up, and go." Fitzgerald ended the conversation there, turning hot on his heels, and heading to his own apartment, slamming the door shut loudly. It made Y/N flinch, she too closed her door aggressively, before she let the angry tears roll down her face.

"Fuck..." Y/N hissed, punctuating her expletive by punching her fist into her pillow, "Fuck...fuckfuckfuckfuck!"

Y/N delivers blows to her defenceless pillow each time she swore.

"You. Fucking. Stupid. Piece. Of. Shit. Bitch. Omega."

Y/N eventually flopped into her pillow, she didn't cry, she didn't have the energy to be emotional anymore. She just lay there, breathing in the fibres of her pillow, instead tuning in to the noise of the city, outside her tiny window.

The noise of traffic, car horns, cyclists, people hailing cabs, people arguing over the prices of fruit.

Then Y/N heard it, the sound of a little girl.

Crying. Tiredly, into a soft toy.

She was in a dark room, somewhere underground, but not too far from where Y/N was laying right now.

Lifting her head up from the pillow, Y/N sniffs the air, opening her window wider, trying to get a better location.

"Mama...mama." the little girl wailed louder, Y/N heard the sound of a door unlocking, the girl's cries grew louder, less coherent more desperate.

"I'm coming, little one," Y/N felt her veins narrow, her pupils widen, the black spots of the city growing bigger.

"I'm coming."

Chapter Three

Taglist

@bad4amficideas

@ninacotte

#marvel fanfiction #reader insert #matt murderdock #matt murdock x reader #alpha!matt #beta!foggy #omega!reader #daredevil #mcu fanfiction #daredevil x reader #marvel's defenders #defender a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o lifestyle #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o au

[silent-raven13]

When Hobie gets drunk

The Spider Band decided to go to one of Hobie's kickback parties. Well, it's one of his bandmate's kick back party, there's alcohol, weed, and other crazy stuff for the teenagers to have a good time. For once, the Spider Band had their day off taking the opportunity to be teenagers. The group put on their best punk outfit to fit into Hobie's world, just so they avoid looks.

Gwen grins widely having to wear plaided cargo pants with many zippers, an oversize shirt with a vest, and thick combat boots: Man, this is gonna be fucking exciting! -she shakes Pav with excitement. Finally, she gets to enjoy partying with her friends after weeks of being Spider-heroes-

Pav being dizzy from Gwen shaking him: Ahahaha, ye-yeah! I really want to do fun beer games! -He wore a much simpler outfit; a black tank top with ripped slashes around and skinny blue jeans with chains. The outfit works with rock boots.-

Margo smirks at Gwen: Hahaha, you're excited to get shitfaced, huh? -wearing a more Androgynous outfit; a long half skirt that is over black buckles black skinny ripped jeans, her tube top with fishnets and a thick belt slanted to the side of her wide hips. Her hair in thick locs with neon colors to stay true to her Spider Byte colors.-

Gwen blushes at Margo's smirk: Huh, ye-yeah! Come on, we finally got to enjoy ourselves. -the two noticed short knotted locs with red dye under their noses-

Spider Zeros: Yo! -she holds her Spiderling as she wore more a Gothic Punk style; a huge over size t-shirt with rip hems and certain parts with an asymmetrical collar stitched fish necks, one long fishnet glove from her arm to her hands, and a black fingerless glove on the other. She had thick big black buckled platform boots, with uneven stockings of black and red. Her makeup dark and dramatic with purple lipstick- What's good!

Pav: I keep forgetting how short you are!

Spider Zero: Excuse you! I am older than all of ya! -she huffs- Anyway, i heard there's free alcohol and join in! Where's Peni?

Gwen sighs: She's busy.

Spider Zero arched her eyebrows: Wow, so boring.

Margo: Hey, she's always working on her machines.

Miles spotted them: Hey guys! -Everyone stares at his outfit being surprised. Miles blushed being shy, his arm rub his other arm- Is is too much?

They squealed: Your so cute, Miles!

Gwen: OMG are you wearing a skirt!

Pav: Look at the lipstick!

Margo: Damn, Miles! I didn't know you like to dress up like that! -she giggles-

Spider Zero awed: Awe, you got to show off your tattoo!

Miles' cheeks felt super warm: Really? Thanks! I wanted to impress Hobie, since he's hardcore and... I'm just simple! -He went all out on his outfit: a red plaided half skirt with a cut to show the black one pants/short and tartan around his reavealing left thigh. His right leg being covered by the ripped one pant. He had on a shredded Hobie's band crop top and underneath the top is one layer of fishnets covering his his right arm to his tummy. The left arm with ripped up plaided sleeve purpose to cover only the forearm and hand. His revealing stomach had a heart shape buckle belt with studs and chains as decor. Then he had a black leather jacket from Hobie with patches and paint on it with words and slang around it. The same goes with his messily painted sunflowers on the sides on his Devil Games Mismatched combat boots. His face being covered with black lipsticks, and smokey red and black eyeshadow with white wing eyeliner. Put on a fake lip piercing, but had his earrings on.-

Gwen: Trust me, Hobie is gonna be so happy!

Hobie: OI! OI! Peter Pan! -the group heard their friend calling out for him. They turned their head toward the voice is coming from through the thick crowd of the underground warehouse party. They saw him walking so sloppy, so drunk!-

Miles gasps with a cute pout: Hobie, you got drunk before we got here!

Hobie finally noticed his boyfriend as he got closer. His vision was blurry as he pushed people out of his way, until his vision came clear when he saw his beaming Angel, his Sunflower: Miles? -he kinda slur his words-

Spider Zeros: A DOY! No shit Sherlock! -she rolled her eyes-

Hobie scowls: Eh, are you being a Xenophobic -his eyes at Zero-

Zero: No, it's an expression for no shit! -she grins- Anyway, I wanna get shitfaced! Right, Spiderling! -her spider happily nodded- Come on, let's drink!

Hobie look at his friends: Ya'll look freaking amazing -he turns to Miles- You look amazing, luv! -he holds his partner's cheek having to stare deep into his eyes like he was the only man in the party-

Miles smiles shyly feeling his cheeks warm again: Heh, thanks, bae.

Pav: Yeah, we should start partying! I finally got the chance to get wasted!

Hobie drunkily slouch on his Miles: The alcohol is that way -he use his thumb to point the area where all the alcohol is at- Come!

It wasn't long till the party went hard! Gwen challenging Hobie into shots. Margo cheering on Gwen while Pav cheer for Hobie. Zero drinks her beer watching with Miles. The young man had a red cup filled with alcohol, he took small sip. If he's honest, he hates alcohol. The taste is too bitter to him, he hates beer the most: Luv! Luv! Were you watching? -Hobie called for him-

Miles laughs: I am, bae! Wow, ten shots! That's crazy.

Hobie grins widely until Pav shouted: Holy Shit, Gwen! -She chugged a bottle of Vodka-

Margo cheers: Hahaha, I never knew you can hold your liquor, Gwen!

Gwen grins wildly being sluggish and slur her words: Ye-yeahh, I ams am'zing...

Miles laughs: Shit, she's gonna feel that in the morning.

Zero: Nah, she got white girl wasted, she can handle it!

Pav giggles having to get another round of shots ready: Miles! Come, join us!

Miles: Ohh, I dunno... I'm not that good with liquor!

Zero: Come on, man. Let's take a shot! -she nudges as her Spiderling slurps her cup with a straw as he rest on her shoulder-

Miles: Is he allowed to drink that?

Zero: Yeah, stop changing the subject.

Miles gave in: Alright. Hobie wanna take a hot with me.

Hobie already too drunk: YEAH! -being much hyper, more louder than his cool self- Let's do this! -The group got their shots to cheer and drink. Miles shudders at the vodka burning down his throat-

Miles: Ugh!

Hobie kisses his forehead being more clingy: It's alright, Brooklyn! You were great.

Gwen drunkly said: Ugh, ya two are always so lovey lovey! Makes me upset I got no one! -she slouches on Margo-

Margo: Whoa easy. Maybe you should take a little break.

Gwen pouts: Nuuhhh!

Margo: Yeeesss

Zero snorted: Oh brother...

Pav: Hehehe, will Ghostbyte happen?

Zero: A what?

Pav: Gwen is Ghost-spider and Margo is Spiderbyte. Ghostbyte.

Hobie chuckles still being drunk with his words: Wat's he talking' bout, darling? -he sat with Miles having his arms around his lover's shoulder-

Miles: Ship names! Pav, I let you watch one anime and now you're shipping everyone, man! -he chuckles-

Pav: Oh pfft, your just mad because I got to name Miguel and Peter, Spiderdads!

Zero: I like SpiderDaddies more.

Gwen hugs Margo being clingy: Ghostbyte!!! -Margo just laughs as she held Gwen to help her not fall-

Miles: And you couldn't find a name for you?

Pav snorted: Pfft me and Gayatri is easy! Pavitri! See! -he looks at Hobie and Miles- Hmm, I'll come up one for you two. It's hard since you got no specific Spiderman name.

Miles gasp: What? I have cool powers!

Zero: Hobie is easy. He's Punk Spiderman.

Hobie grunts: I don't call myself a punk, that's labeling me a-

Zero cut him off: Yeah, we get it. It's just that's how it is.

Pav: Hmmm, Hobie calls Miles, Sunflower- OH! PUNKFLOWER!

Margo listens: That's cute.

Zero nodded: Or Flowerpunk!

Gwen: I like -she burps as talks- that one! -still slouching on Margo-

Miles laughs: Okay, it's cute. Not gonna lie.

Hobie grunts: Who cares about labels, luv? It's not really us! You're my Sunflower! -he snuggle his partner- why should we care what others think of us?

Miles: I like it. -he chuckles- We got our secret ship names, bae.

Zero: Unless you're in Earth 1218, they already know your ships.

Pav: Oh, isn't that world where reality is soo real! Like their laws of nature is so powerful that their super-heroes don't exist- only through imagination! -He gasps with awe look on his face, and hands on his head-

Zero: Yeah! How did you know?

Hobie: This guy knows everything! He's always hearing the latest gossip at HQ!

Margo: And you can't tell him NOTHING! He's the first one to spread it!

Pav fake gasp: ME? How dare you!

Margo: It's true. You always instigating and being the first one to spread the word. Last time, I mention about Ben being in the pain in the ass and he quickly told everyone. Like, bro! -she laughs at Pam's expression-

Pav: To be fair, you also said to other Spiderpeople! -He laughs- Not my fault, Miguel got involved!

Zero: Man, that man is always up in everyone asses tho! He one time got mad because I didn't signed in or out.

Margo: But you go through multiverses?

Zero: I know!

Hobie: He's a control arse!

Gwen: Yeah, fuck Miguel! -being too drunk to care what she said-

Margo: Opp! I wouldn't say that.

Miles: Yeah, he's not all bad. He's like an old building that needs a clean up!

Pav: I see, FlowerFang happening! -Getting a dark glare from Hobie. Huh oh, jealous Hobie is back-

Zero: Ohhh, nice one!

Miles pouts: Nah, Pav. Now, you're being an instigator! I just think Miguel got some rough patches.

Margo: Before we continue this convo! Miles, I'm curious -she and Gwen sat down on chairs behind them. Gwen still cuddling against Margo- Like no offense, but- but would you?

Miles: Huh?

Pav laughs: And I'm the instigator, huh?

Margo: Oh hush!

Zero laughs: Now, we're getting to the juicy detail!

Hobie glares at them: Aye, are ya gonna disrespect me like this? In front of my face!

Margo hold her hands in defense: I'm just saying. Okay, let me be more honest. Would ya'll tap Miguel?

Everyone went silent except for Hobie with a scowl: No.

Margo grins: Why?

Hobie: Because he's a bloody bloke! A fucking pig within this whole society controlling all of us! What do you mean? Would you all do him! -his eyes widen in shock-

Zero: No! I'm Asexual and- that man got issues.

Margo: Paving is thinking pretty hard there, huh? Hey, you okay, bud?

Pav: What da fuck? I can't even think without you calling me out! -Zero laughs out loud-

Margo: It's like you're really thinking about it. Look, I'ma be honest. Miguel is a fine man... -she explains- We are not gonna sit here and lie about that, and he got some sweet cake. I mean, have you look at that man? -The group except for Hobie nodded with agreement. Hobie looks at Miles' who gave a slight nod-

Hobie: LUV!

Miles: What? I'm just agreeing that Miguel is handsome!

Pav: Look, I think I would if I wasn't in a serious relationship! -he spotted Zero about to say something to him- Considering- Considering we are all adults, so it should be fine! -he sips his drink-

Zero: So you would since your 18, now.

Pav: Ya! I mean, why not?

Margo: Lowkey, same. High key, only for a night stand, like have you seen that man's ass. Lord!

Zero: It's like two bouncing balls!

Pav: Gwen is all knocked out.

Gwen snoring in Margo's shoulders: Let her sleep. Anyway, Miles? Your opinion.

Miles: I'm in a relationship! I can't say that.

Hobie smirks: Yeah, he shouldn't think about it. -he slouch on his boyfriend-

Margo: Hypothetically speaking-

Hobie getting jealous: nah, fuck your hypo!

Zero and Pav laughs: He's mad mad, now!

Miles: Me and Hobie are in a great relationship! Why would I wanna think about another man?

Zero: Sheesh, loyal man.

Margo: But like imagine tho.

Hobie: Margo, your being a Pav!

Pav: Me! No, what da hell did I do?

Margo laughs: Relax, Hobs!

Hobie scowls having to go to his Miles: You know, I love you, right!

Miles blink surprised: Huh? Hobie, where-

Hobie got in front of his partner with his hands cupping his lover: I told you before I love you! I love you, mate! -his drunk self getting emotional-

Miles: I love you, too-

Zero: Wow, and three years strong!

Hobie being clingy to Miles: I love you, Sunflower! You know, that! I would fucking become a villain if you leave me or if anything happen to you! I'll fucking kill anyone who hurts you! I would be nothing without you, Miles! -kissing him on the lips and cheek-

Miles: Hobie, Hobie! Baby, you're drunk. Calm down!

Hobie: I love you, you're my baby! -he holds Miles in his arms- This is man is mine!

Miles never knew how clingy his boyfriend could get, even how easily tick off: Baby, I love you, too! -he hugs him back-

Hobie: I love you, MILES! You're my SUNFLOWER! -His arms wrapped around his Miles as they cuddle on the couch. Everyone laughs while Miles tries to calm his boyfriend down-

#punkflower #miles morales #hobie brown #spiderman #spider verse #across the spider verse

[hischierdevils]

Best Years | J.M.

note: the fact that there is no marino content on this app should be a crime. this was inspired by Best Years by 5sos

summary: y/n has to leave john behind in order to follow her dreams. can they find their way back to each other?

warnings: angst, mentions of alcohol and throwing up

wc: 1.5K

You've got a million reasons to hesitate

But darlin', the future's better than yesterday

I wasted so much time on people that reminded me of you

Gave you a million reasons to walk away

Meeting John at a bar in Pittsburgh on a rare night out seemed like fate but you knew it was a temporary situation. John’s focus was on hockey, playing for the Penguins, and yours was on finishing your degree at your parents orders and getting the hell out of town. 

Hooking up with him turned into late night facetimes and texts when he was out of town. John wore his heart on his sleeve and warned you early on that he was falling for you. You told him your relationship had an expiration date, once you graduated you were gone. 

He agreed, even though it hurt him to think of you as someone temporary in his life. The day of your college graduation, he showed up in a nice suit holding a large bouquet of flowers. He cheered you on as you walked across the stage and in return, you broke up with him. 

He was devastated but you reminded him that the two of you were always going to end that way. You didn’t allow yourself to dwell on how you were feeling, you just packed your bags and moved to New York City, determined to become a dancer and prove your parents wrong. 

Things were rough at first, grinding away at two different jobs in between auditions. You were always so busy that it took a while for you to realize how much you actually missed him. Once you did, you tried filling the void with other guys that seem to resemble John in one way or another. 

He was always your biggest supporter and when you book your first Broadway show, he’s the first person you want to call. You haven’t talked to him in months and you wouldn’t blame him if he never wants to hear from you again but you find yourself calling anyway. 

Not only does he pick up the phone, but the two of you talk for hours. He just got traded to the New Jersey Devils and now lives twenty-five minutes away from you. At the end of the conversation, you agree to meet up for dinner to catch up. 

I wanna hold your hair when you drink too much

Carry you home when you cannot stand up

You did all these things for me when I was half a man for you

I wanna hold your hand while we're growing up

For the last six weeks, the two of you have been talking non-stop. You’ve gone to a couple of his games, sitting down by the ice wearing his jersey. You’re both taking things slow, easing your way back into friendship. You know you hurt him and he’s a little more guarded with his heart this time around. 

John comes to opening night with Dawson and Jack in tow. When the show is over, he finds you backstage with a large bouquet of flowers in hand. You can tell he’s nervous when you greet him with a kiss on the cheek. He’s probably thinking about the last time he brought you flowers. 

“Hey, you were amazing.” He smiles at you before handing you the flowers. “These are for you.”

“You’re the sweetest, Johnny.” You can’t help but grin as you bring the flowers to your nose to smell them. “But I was only a member of the entourage.” 

“But you were the most beautiful one up there.” He blushes as he says it, immediately thinking he’s overstepped. 

“Y/n, is your boyfriend coming to the after party?” Lylah, one of the other dancers, asks you. 

You and John talk at the same time. “Oh, he’s not my-”

“I’m here with my friends-” 

“If they're half as cute as you honey, I'd love for them to come.” Lylah winks at John before walking away and you feel a little bubble of jealousy in your gut as you turn your head to look at him. 

“If you have plans that’s okay.” You tell him. 

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Do you want me there?” 

Your heart squeezes at the double meaning of his words. “Of course I do.” You’ve already messed this up once, you’re not going to push him away again. 

John, Jack, and Dawson head to the club with you and your friends to celebrate your opening night. Everyone notices that John doesn’t let go of your hand but no one mentions it since the two of you seem to be pointedly ignoring it. 

As the night progresses, the pull you feel for John gets stronger and stronger. You want him to hold you in his arms like he did before you ruined everything but you know you can’t ask that of him anymore so you drink instead. 

When you seem to be having trouble walking on your own, John calls it a night. He doesn’t want to overstep with you, but he also wants to make sure you get home safely. “Y/n, where are your keys?” He asks you as he helps you out of the bar. Jack left a little while ago with a girl so Dawson helps him hold you up. 

“Wanna go with you, Johnny.” You mumble as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

John bites his lip, debating on if he wants to go through your purse or not. He could easily take you with him to his apartment but it’ll kill him in the morning when you leave. “I’m gonna get you home, y/n.” 

You look over at Dawson with squinty eyes. “The tequila comin’ back.” Dawson barely has time to step out of the way before you’re puking on the sidewalk. John grabs your hair and uses his hand to hold it in a ponytail as your body heaves your stomach contents up. 

“It’s okay.” He whispers to you as you start to cry. “You’re okay.” He wipes the tears from your cheek with his thumb as he decides to bring you to his place. He’s not sure if your roommates are home and he doesn’t want to leave you alone in the state you’re in. 

“Mmm so sorry Daw-son.” You mumble as you fully lean into John’s side. 

“It’s alright.” He smiles at you reassuringly. “I’ve watched hockey players do keg stands. You’re fine.”

John ends up giving you a piggyback ride to where Dawson’s car is parked and he sits in the backseat with you as the three of you go to New Jersey. He gives you some of his clothes to sleep in and you manage to change into them yourself before passing out in his bed. He makes sure you’re comfortable on your side before taking his pillow and going to sleep on the couch. 

But I'll build a house out of the mess

And all the broken pieces

I'll make up for all of your tears

I'll give you the best years

The first thing you do when you wake up in the morning in a strange room with men’s clothes on is panic. You have no memory of leaving the club or flirting with any guys. Your stomach rolls with nausea at the thought of you hooking up with someone-anyone that isn’t John. He was with you last night. Did he watch you leave with someone else? He’s never going to talk to you again. 

You hear footsteps in the hallway and quickly close your eyes, not yet ready to meet whatever stranger is going to be walking through the door. 

“Y/n?” A familiar voice says your name softly as you hear the door open. “Are you awake?” 

You open your eyes to see John standing beside the bed watching you with concern. “John? Oh, god. What did I do?” You sit up quickly which seems to be a bad idea, and John quickly picks up a garbage can from the floor so you can dry heave into it. 

“Nothing happened, y/n.” He explains as he holds your hair back for you. “You were drunk and I brought you here so I knew you were alright.” 

You start crying again from his kindness. “I’m so sorry I fucked everything up between us.” You tell him. “I never meant to hurt you. You were the best thing in my life. I just had to get away from my parents and prove I could do it-” 

You start sobbing so hard that he gets in bed beside you and pulls you to his chest. “It’s alright, y/n. You told me from day one that that’s how it was going to be. I fell in love with you anyway.”

“Do you-” You hiccup. “Do you think you could love me again?” 

He smiles and kisses the top of your head. “I never stopped loving you.”

You pull your tear-stained face away from his body to look at him. “Can I be your girlfriend again?” 

He smirks because you never referred to yourself as his girlfriend before but now doesn’t seem like the right time to say that. “Of course, baby. Whatever you want to be, I'm yours.”

#john marino imagine #john marino fic #john marino reader insert #john marino x reader #john marino #my writing

[ithinkinggenshin]

Are the requests open-? If they are can I request fem reader wearing a maid dress in front of (miko, ei, Jean, and ningguang)?

You've been maid

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters: Yae Miko, Ei, Jean, Ningguang

Pairings: Fem!Reader x all characters mentioned above

Warnings: swearing, master/servant scenario, teasing, horny pining (nothing explicit), not proof read

Word count: 1,691

Synopsis: UwU

Yae Miko: 

“Come here little one. I have a gift for you. A specially made outfit that’s very popular in Mondstat.” 

Maybe you really are a masochist. You feel so humiliated, face burning red and yet you voluntarily put the outfit on anyway. The “special” part was that the outfit was pink and white, instead of the normal black and white. Cute white stockings, adorable frills along the bottoms of the sleeves and on the straps of the apron, which itself is on top of a pastel, bubblegum pink dress, and finally some pink silk bows to tie it all off. 

You feel like a toy doll as Miko helps you into the costume, unnecessarily grabbing at you the entire time. It doesn’t help that the outfit is incredibly exposing and overtly sexual. Yae made sure to get the entire outfit custom made. Meaning she even went so far as to get some cute white panties with a big pink heart right on the front of them, and a pink and white lace, push up bra to match. She’s an evil genius. A malevolent mistress. 

"See? Do you look so pretty? And you fit the role so well. You're already serving some delicious treats."

You can see her lick her lips in the mirror, her canines growing, the animistic side of her rearing its head. Her tail sways slowly behind her. 

Your arms come up but Yae quickly grabs them. 

"Uh uh uh~ no hiding from me now. I deserve to see my gift in its complete form." 

You huff. You want to look away but you can't. The outfit is so simple yet it manages to convey so much. You wonder if Yae got the idea from one of her novelists. She probably commissioned a poor soul to draw it all out for her. The outfit fits you enough that you have room to breathe and move your arms easily. But the bottom of the skirt barely comes to your mid thigh and the dip in the neckline is a full on scoop that doesn't even manage to hide the top of your bra. She must've planned that because the bra manages to look like an accented part of the dress, rather than an unintentional flashing. The entire outfit hugs your ample body. You do feel kind of cute in the outfit, it does all come together quite nicely, but the way the top of your stockings squeeze your thighs and how the panties let your ass show. You shake your head. The devil is in the details. And the kitsune right behind you is reveling in said creations. 

Ei:

What. Is. That?

When she lets you into her mindscape, she was already aware that there would be something different. Her puppet had taken notice of your different attire and told her when she was letting her master know of your arrival. But still, she didn’t expect to see you in such an… odd outfit. Ruffles at the bottom of your sleeves and dress– which is absurdly short, by the way. A collar? Why in Teyvat is there such a low cut gap in the middle of the chest?! The entire outfit doesn’t seem very functional, why do you have it? Why are you wearing it? Who else saw you like this?

You didn’t expect such a shocked reaction from Ei. You could practically feel the ground shake as lighting must’ve struck outside with every question she bombarded you with. You want to laugh. She’s so adorably confused and jealous.

“Do you like it? Yae gave it to me. She told me I’d look cute in it.” You twirl around and the skirt flows with you only to show Ei how short your dress really is. You better not have done that in public. 

“That damned fox. You look… good in that outfit. But… it doesn’t seem very practical.”

Her poor attempt at hiding her feelings has you letting out that laugh. Perhaps you should tell her about all the people who stopped you on your way to the palace, who complimented and praised you. One girl even gave you some sweets from her stall. Ei would certainly give you a bigger reaction with this knowledge but… you don’t want lighting to strike the poor girl, she didn’t know after all. 

“I like it. It doesn’t restrain my movements very much and it feels great to wear in all the humidity.” You give her an innocent smile. She grits her teeth. 

“Hmph. Well. Perhaps I can change the weather to something more suitable. I don’t think wearing that often will be good for you.”

Oh Ei… you think to yourself. Such a sweet gesture, with such selfish intentions. You decide to throw her a bone. You’re not Miko, after all.

“That’s sweet of you, but there’s no need. I think I’ll only wear it when I see you. That’s what it’s for after all.” You wrap your arms around her neck and beam up at her. You can feel her relax with your words. You lean against her chest.

“Besides. I don’t want you to start another fire just because you’re jealous.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You laugh and instinctively wrap your legs around her waist as she effortlessly picks you up. Stealing the box of candies from your hand behind her. She easily holds you up with one arm as she uses her free hand to pop one into her mouth and then feeds you another. You laugh as she forcefully shoves the treat past your lips and presses it onto your tongue to silence you. You’ll have to thank Yae for the outfit. You’re definitely going to wear it again. Especially if it means Ei will grip you as hard as she is now, her hand beneath you having made sure to make its way under your skirt in order to hold you up against her.  

Jean: 

To this day you had never bothered to mention to Jean that you worked at Good Hunters. At least, not until now. 

She doesn't look up as you step into her office, instead deeply focused on the paper she's writing on. You let out a soft sound of appreciation, the acting grand master looks so good in the glow of the setting sun. Immediately Jean's head snaps up. She's been eager to see you all day and she'd recognize that voice anywhere, even if it's in a small hum or tiny whisper. 

Your smile grows as you watch her eyes go wide, looking up and down your form. She blushes bright red but doesn't look away. Since when do you have a maid outfit?! 

You walk like a model, one foot crossing in front of the other, swaying your hips as you approach her desk. You love the way Jean looks at you, so pathetically longing. You put your hands on the desk and lean over. It’s cute how the little keyhole opening just beneath your collar barely gives anything away, yet Jean is staring at it as though doing so will allow her to see more.

You gently call her name, “Jean.”

“Hm?” She doesn’t look away. 

“My eyes are up here you know.”

Those words seem to snap her out of her stupor as her head whips up and her eyes meet yours in a wild and panicked state. You just laugh as she sputters out apologies and excuses. What she did was inappropriate, you love it when she looks at you like that. You’ll have to wear your uniform to see her more often. Maybe she’ll help you make a few adjustments to the outfit. Then again, you don’t think you’ll be able to explain to Sara why the little window has been torn open to expose more of your chest. But it might just be worth it if it means riling up your adorable girlfriend even more.

Ningguang:

Never bet against the banker. The house always wins. 

To be condemned to be a servant for the Tianqian feels like a worse punishment than death. To think such a tiny wager would curse you with such a fate. The damned woman must’ve rigged the match. She was ready with this outfit as soon as you lost. She knew this would happen. Everything fits you like a glove. She cheated! She must have. But it’s  no use. You couldn’t prove it, and now here you are on your knees in front of her, cleaning up the gold floors in the chamber she loves so dearly. 

The people below all say that Ningguang is immaculate, perfect in everything she does. If only they could see the number of “accidents” where she spilled her wine, scattered papers, and let cigarette ashes fall on her precious furniture. You swear she’s manipulated these incidents too. You can always feel her eyes on you as you bend down to pick up the papers or wipe up the floor. 

You once demanded to know why she did all of this? Made such a risky bet, got you a tailor made outfit, and now jeopardizes some of her most valuable documents because she just wants to see you bend for her. 

Instead of answering she just smiled and in that luscious voice of hers said, “How about another wager? If you win I’ll tell you everything you want to know. But if I win…

“You’ll become my personal maid.”

You can feel the blood inside of you rush to your cheeks. So that’s what she’s been after this whole time! You know what she’s insinuating with that title. Personal maid. You’re not looking to be at her mercy more than you already are. Plus, she’ll probably rig the game again like last time. You scornfully shake your head and go back to cleaning up the ashes she scattered on the floor. They smell like her, or maybe she smells like them. Either way, you spend the time trying to think of a way to get your freedom back. It’ll undoubtedly come down to another gamble, but this time your body will be on the line. But… so will your freedom. 

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #yae miko x reader #ei x reader #jean x reader #ningguang x reader #thanks for the ask! #god i love writing fanfiction instead of doing homework #thanks for reading! #wow i got an ask! #fem reader #fem!reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #posted fic

[rose-tinted-vision]

Fic: Tales from Tianji Manor

Relationship: Di Feisheng/Fang Duobing/Li Lianhua

Tags: POV He Xiaohui, Post-canon Fix-it, Li Lianhua lives

(read it on ao3!/next)

He Xiaohui watches the three sleeping men from the doorway, observes the way each of her son's arms are wound tight around the other two men's waists, as if he was afraid that they would be taken from him.

She takes a good look at their faces, the once-feared Demon lord of the Jianghu, and the once-revered prodigy Li Xiangyi lying peacefully on either side of her son, the severe lines on their faces smoothed out by sleep.

Her son had showed up out of the blue one day, moving house and all, with a haggard looking Di Feisheng and an unconscious Li Xiangyi in it. He had proceeded to hole himself up in his room with the former leader of the Jingyuan Alliance and Li Xiangyi, blabbing about saving Li Lianhua before the man escaped, pleading for her to place her most vicious traps outside his room and not let any of them out for the next week.

Bewildered but recognizing the firm expression on her son's face, she had complied, resolving to demand answers from him once the week was up.

And here she was, at the end of the promised seven days, undoing all her mechanisms at the break of dawn to see three innocuous sleeping faces.

He Xiaohui did not know what to make of it.

Her son must have the devil's luck, to have snagged the two most powerful men in the jianghu.

She does not know how she feels about her Fang Xiaobao, the same snot-nosed kid who she once had to make wheeled chairs for, now all grown up and actually dating men nearly a decade older than him.

Li Xiangyi, she at least knew somewhat. She still hasn't forgiven him for those words that pushed her son to the jianghu, made him put himself through all that pain, but she also knew the man named Li Lianhua. What she said that day was genuine. She knew her fool of a son, she knew that he would only get himself scammed, robbed, and killed if it weren't for Li Lianhua.

She remembers how her son had stood resolute in front of Shi Shui and Yun Biqiu, throwing away his lifelong dream just to protect Li Lianhua, how the man in turn, had recognized her Xiaobao for the treasure that he was.

Her Fang Xiaobao had always been one for wearing his heart on his sleeve, giving it away easily.

(It was why she had sent his xiaoyi after him, had advocated for his marriage to the princess to be held as soon as possible, to tie him down before he managed to escape to the jianghu, where he would undoubtedly get hurt a thousand times over.

She should have known that he would inherit his biological mother’s stubbornness).

Di Feisheng, however. She did not know what to make of him. When her Xiaobao came home in a frenzy, Lotus tower in tow, the man had let him discuss matters with her, never once trying to intervene as he played silent sentinel by the side.

She had only met him once, during the fight against Shan Gudao where he helped take down his own Alliance, and noticed the familiar way her Xiaobao addressed him. The easy way Li Xiangyi stood beside him, as if they had not fought to the death ten years ago. The way Di Feisheng had asked Li Xiangyi so tenderly if he wasn't going to chase after her son.

It spoke of something between them, their dynamics between the three of them built during their travels through the jianghu. When had they picked up Di Feisheng, anyway?

All she knew of him was rumours accumulated over the years, painting him a fearsome figure who rose to the top at the mere age of 21 before perishing alongside Li Xiangyi.

And now here they both were, in her Tianji Manor.

Curled up on either side of her son, the gentle rays of dawn made them all look younger than they were, and nothing at all like the three men who undid all of Shan Gudao’s carefully laid plans in one fell swoop.

(The pile of blankets that Di Feisheng and her Xiaobao had wrapped Li Lianhua in were strewn to the side, she notes. She concludes that they managed to cure Li Lianhua, and the relief she feels at that nearly bowls her over).

He Xiaohui scoops up the blankets, turning to take one last look at the three sleeping men before leaving, only to meet Di Feisheng’s quiet stare.

She quirks a hesitant smile at him, which he returns with a nod.

It's a start, she supposed.

#i love the He family sm #best fam fr #celebratory fic!! #my assignments are nearly over 🥳 #difanghua #mysterious lotus casebook #mysterious lotus casebook fic #rose writes

[nerdasaurus1200]

Day 5- Forbidden Love

Obligatory Tags: @our-newdream @autumn-sundrop @seadrreams @the-writer1988

For today’s prompt I decided to do a small drabble! This takes place in an au where Eugene was pardoned, but isn’t allowed to date Rapunzel or be in the palace. For now at least, Frederic wants to try out a few suitors for Rapunzel. It was inspired by this particular concept art, because it’s really cute and I love it XD

~~~~~

“Let me guess, date with Prince Bradley didn’t go like you hoped?” Cassandra asked as she glanced down at the full cup of tea.

“Oh, nono, it was fine!” Rapunzel quickly reassured, “Well..until he called Pascal a salamander.” Ahhh, so that’s why he’d been red all day.

“Could be worse. Your dad could be setting you up with one of the princes from the Southern Isles.” Cass tried to cheer her up.

“I know, but I don’t want a prince from the southern isles. I don’t want any stuffy old prince.” Rapunzel replied, “They’re nice and all, but I….they just don’t understand me. And they’re WAY too interested in my hair. I keep telling them, it doesn’t heal anymore.”

Cassandra frowned, her heart breaking at her friend’s misery. She didn’t like this any more than Rapunzel did, but neither of them had any choice. Rapunzel had to find a suitable prince to marry, and Cassandra had to act like she was in full support of it.

“I just wish I could be with someone who loved me. Not the princess.” Rapunzel sighed, falling down onto her bed. Without even looking, she reached her hand under her pillow and pulled out a small flag. The flag Eugene bought her for her birthday. He’d given her the kindest smile when he handed it to her, and chuckled when she held it up to the light.

“It’s no lanterns, but any true devil may care rogue makes sure to get the birthday girl a present, Blondie.” She recalled him saying.

“Yeah I know, Raps.” Cassandra responded, “But…sometimes life doesn’t always work that wa-“

“Oh, Rapunzel! Let down your hair!” A familiar voice sang out.

“Lance! I told you not to sing!” They heard Eugene mutter. Cassandra and Rapunzel gave each other a look and headed outside to the balcony. To their surprise, they found a familiar pair of faces scaling the tower to Rapunzel’s room, bickering to each other about a dramatic entrance.

“Eugene! Lance!” Rapunzel cried out happily.

“And there’s the someone, right on cue.” Cassandra snarked, “Looks like he was preening a little extra today.”

“You know what Cassandra?” Eugene started to retort, but his voice died in his throat a little as he laid eyes on Rapunzel.

“Hey..” he whispered.

“Hi!” She chirped, her smile shining brighter than the sun. Eugene couldn’t help but find himself smiling back. She looked So beautiful with the sunset behind her like this, practicality bathing her in a halo of light. From up there she looked like an angel. That stunning dark purple dress that brought out her beautiful eyes. Those gorgeous freckles that perfectly painted her rosy cheeks. Short bubble sleeves like the one on that dress complimented her so well. She should wear them more often.

“What brings you and Lance out her?” Rapunzel asked.

“Damaging stone that’s hundreds of years old…and breaking into the palace…again.” Cassandra added dryly.

“Well a little birdie, or rather frog, told Eugene that you had a bad day.” Lance explained.

“So I brought a picnic!” Eugene announced. He moved his arm to grab the basket so he could show her, but then his arm flew right back to the arrow lodged in the wall as soon as he felt himself falling.

“And I’m here for musical ambience!” Lance announced proudly.

“And I’ve also got some candles too!” Eugene added, “And lanterns in case you wanted those instead of candles. But both are very romantic.”

“Exactly how long have you guys been scaling the wall like this with all this stuff?” Rapunzel asked.

“Uhhh….2 hours?” Eugene answered, “But don’t worry, my arms aren’t tired at all.”

Rapunzel barely stopped herself from giggling, “Do you want to climb my hair?”

“…Yes please, this is killing me.” Eugene finally whimpered, looking up at her like a kicked puppy. Rapunzel let the giggle out this time, and let her hair fall down from the balcony. Eugene quickly abandoned the arrows and grabbed on, now climbing much quicker. Rapunzel couldn’t help herself from leaning over the railing as Eugene finally made it to the balcony. Her heart soared as their eyes met and they smiled at each other. He must’ve gotten closer without her realizing, because before she knew it his lips were on hers. She giggled once more and happily kissed him back, her hands rising up to hold his face.

“Hey.” He purred when she pulled away.

“Hi…” she whispered, her cheeks flushing.

Lance chuckled to himself as he saw the scene, walking over to Cassandra as the two love birds pulled their picnic out.

“I doubt the King will ever approve of this.” Cassandra warned him quietly, “He’ll never allow them to be together.”

“Are you gonna say anything, goody two shoes?” Lance teased, but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away that he already knew the answer.

“I won’t say anything if you won’t.” Cassandra said anyway, “Besides, what they do when the king isn’t looking is their business.”

#tts #rta #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #nerd talks #fanfic #fanfiction #drabble #new dream #new dream appreciation week #rapunzel #eugene Fitzherbert #cassandra #lance strongbow