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neo-nomatrix · 11 months

Text

Rule No. 19

never fall in love with the same person twice, the second time you’ll be falling in love with the memories not the person.

Miguel O’hara x reader

word count: 1056

synopsis: You were Miguel’s wife in another universe and he just can’t come to terms that you’re not his.

a/n: i know a lot of people are asking for part twos of my other stories but i just can’t think of anything 😭

Your death was a horrible day for Miguel. He easily blamed himself for what had happened to you. Shot twice by a random mugger off the side of the street. And he, Spiderman of all people, couldn't save you. How could he even call himself a hero after that? He held your lifeless body in his arms as he came to terms with the incident.

Miguel wouldn’t allow your killer to get away. Chasing him down the block, cornering him in an alley and slowly, almost torturing, beat the life out of him. Miguel tore at his skin with his claws, used all his strength to break his teeth, and practically ripped off the man’s hand from the wrist.

Miguel so desperately wanted him to feel pain he would do anything. But that wouldn’t bring you back, and he knew that.

Miguel had fallen in love with you for many reasons. You were beautiful, smart, funny, and the kindest person he had ever met. He knew that if you saw the person he was now you would not have fallen in love with him. When he looks at himself in the mirror he doesn’t see the man he once was, he doesn’t see the man you loved but a distorted ugly image of that man.

He knew he had changed for the worse but truthfully he didn’t care. If changing meant he got what he was after he didn’t care how it made him look.

The first time Miguel found you in another universe he was ecstatic. You had a family, a beautiful daughter and a life worth being a part of. “Your” Miguel had recently died and he thought he could replace him.

“Oh, I'm so glad you’re home. I was starting to get worried,” You kissed your husband as he walked through the door.

“Im here,” Miguel whispered as a response.

He didn’t know what to do. You were there, in front of him. Alive.

He pulled you in for the strongest kiss he had ever given you. You were slightly shocked but melted into the kiss with such love. Failing to see the tears building up in his eyes.

You were happy, so happy. Until the day it all came crashing down on him. Your world started to collapse within itself, Miguel felt like Atlas trying to hold up the universe on his shoulders. He didn’t know what to do, he was lost. Running from an inescapable situation with you and your daughter. You fell to your knees as you were running. You were glitching. Slowly, in the most painful way he could imagine both you and your daughter disappeared from his arms.

For the second time Miguel lost you, and it was his fault. From then on he vowed to only watch you from afar.

“She isn’t yours, Miguel,” Jess reminded him for what? the tenth time today?

“I know that Jess,” he practically rolled his eyes at her.

“Y’know it’s creepy. You’re basically stalking this girl who has no idea you exist. There are just some things you have to let go,” She offers her advice.

Miguel clenches his jaw at her words.

“I don’t need a therapist, alright? I’m fine dealing with this,” he says.

He’s had enough of Jess and her advice for today. Even though he won’t let himself interfere he can’t help but watch you from the rooftops. He agrees that it’s creepy but he can’t let anything else bad happen to you, he just can’t.

From everything telling him not to, he swings down to try and get closer to you. He enters the coffee shop you just went into. He doesn’t know why. He shouldn’t be here behind you in the long line. It’s not right. He’s about to turn before he’s greeted with your sweet voice. Your voice that sounds like honey and all the good things on this planet and the next.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but I was just wondering what you usually order? I’ve never been here before and I'm sort of lost,” you giggle. God, he could melt on the spot.

He knows you're lying, of course. He’s seen you in here more times than he can count. And you always get the same exact thing, every single time. In fact, you refuse to get anything different. He wants to believe you’re asking him as a way to flirt but he can’t get attached, not again.

“Oh uhm, i usually get their vienna latte,” His eyes flick up to the first thing on their menu, never having gone to this shop himself.

“And then their bear claw,” if there’s one thing he noticed about you it’s that in every universe you love a bear claw with your drink.

“Great! I’ll get that then!” You smile happily as the barista asks for the next person in line.

He didn’t realize how in love with you he really was until he spoke to you all these years later.

“Do you maybe want to sit down together? I know a park nearby,” You approach him after both of you have gotten your drinks.

“I’d…” he trails off remembering Jess’ words. He can’t, he shouldn’t, no matter how much he wants to. “I don’t think I can. I’m really sorry,” he feels horrible after seeing the look on your face. He wants to crumble up into a million pieces seeing you disappointed like that.

“No worries then. It’s okay,” you smile kindly at him. A clear tinge of sadness in your voice.

You walk off leaving him there unsure of his choice. Would one conversation really do anything? Would it tear the world apart like last time? Was he willing to risk it just to talk to you again?

The truth was yes, he was absolutely willing to risk everything for the chance to have you fall in love with him again. But he couldn’t do that to you. He stands there, heartbroken for a third time.

Even though he loves you he’s well aware you’re not his, not really. He knows that if he were to fall in love with this version of you it would be compensation for what he had lost. He would simply be trying to recreate something he couldn’t have.

Miguel loves you, but he can’t have you.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x you #marvel x reader #spiderman x reader smut #spiderman x y/n #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman atsv x reader #spiderman atsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara

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qraceiuv · 6 months

Note

hii can you do singer!reader x jude (ik you’ve done it recently so i understand if you don’t want to 😞) and can the faceclaim be tyla? idk if you let anons choose faceclaims anyways thank uuu!!!! also remember to eat and stay hydrated 🫶🏽🫶🏽 love u

water. jude bellingham.

summary — your new song causes the fans to want more and more content from jude and yours relationship

notes — tysm for this request! love u more bb, i literally had tyla in mind for a new blurb, and getting this made it perfect

warnings — inappropriate jokes? idk + mentions of throw up and such - js some cute lil fluff as usual

_________________________________________

y/nsusername

y/nsusername: 'water' out this friday🩵🐆

—

username: OMGOMGOMG

username: THIS IS SO UNEXPECTED

username: totally not breaking down

username: i need to wife her

username: WHATWHATATWNAN

username: WATER??😭

yourfriend: HOT HOT MEOWWW

— y/nsusername: oh thats

username: her and jude r dating right

— username: yeah it was confirmed like 3 months ago but they dont post much of each other

— username: maybe the singles abt him

— username: I HOPEEE

y/nsusername

y/nsusername: make me lose my breath, make me water 🪩🪞🐆💦

—

username: IM GLING INSANE

username: WTF

username: omg im so proud of her

username: SHES COME SO FAR CRYING

— y/nsusername: 🥹🥹🥹

username: AH AH AHHHH

username: im actually so happy for her

yourfriend: JIMMY FUCKING FALLON

— y/nsusername: JIMMY FUCKING FALLON

username: STREAM WATER BY Y/N

username: MAKE ME SWEATTTT

— username: MAKE ME HOTTERRRR

username: on repeat

username: oh shes gonna eat

judebellingham: 💦💦💦

— y/nsusername: delete immediately

— username: HELP?

username: JUDE IM CRYING

username: judes comment has made my year

username: finally y/njude content (its horrible)

y/nsusername

y/nsusername: tour so far... i love you lovely people and the many helping hands behind the scenes <3

—

username: see you in a week!!

username: i need to go

username: shes thriving

username: getting the hype she deserves

judebellingham: omg you love me?

— y/nsusername: no !

— judebellingham: guess ill turn the plane around

— y/nsusername: HEY.

username: HES ON A PLANE TO SEE HER😭😭

username: GUYS R WE GONNA FINALLY GET SOME Y/NJUDE LORE

username: i love them (we barely know them)

judebellingham

judebellingham: to be proud of my girl is an understatement 🩵🩵

—

username: okay ill cry

username: y/n love club

username: shouldve put 💦💦💦

— y/nsusername: agreed

y/nsusername: 💦💦💦

— jude bellingham: i hate you now.

— y/nsusername: payback

username: adoption papers wya

username: hard launch a lil too late

y/nsusername: i love you

y/nsusername

y/nsusername: my man finally took me out

—

username: KMS KMS KMS

username: FINALLY WE GETTING SOME SHIT

username: make me sweattt... sorry

— username: MAKE ME HOTTERRR

— username: everyone thank jude for this sexy song

yourfriend: i could treat u better

— y/nsusername: i know i know

judebellingham: im gonna do it

— y/nsusername: dont.

— judebellingham: 💦💦💦

username: JUDES COMMENT😭😭

username: theyre actually so cute

username: the banter >>>

username: my man is whipped

y/nsusername

y/nusername: 2M weekly streams on water... kisses 🐆💋

—

username: MAKE ME WATERRRD

username: YESSS

username: literally so deserved

username: im so proud lemme cry

username: MY BABY

username: WE LOVE YOU

username: STFU OMG

username: nobody deserves it more

judebellingham: my popstar

— y/nsusername: my starboy

judebellingham: so proud of you baby

username: BABY?!?!

username: im on the floor rn

username: jude is too lucky

username: im throwing up cuz of them

_________________________________________

#jude bellingham #fanfic #qraceiuv #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham oneshot #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude x reader #jude bellingham smau #jude bellingham social media au #jude bellingham x fem!reader #jude bellingham fic #soccer x reader #soccer imagine #football imagine #futbol imagine #fanfiction #social media au

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jakescakeislateforourdate · 2 months

Note

Hey girly!! Im too shy to ask this without the anonymous filter but first of all I’ve been reading through your blog and I love it honestly. I was wondering if you are open to requests if you’d be able to write up something about joe rantz (I am absolutely LIVING for blonde callum) and maybe a coaches daughter trope? he saw her when he went to sign himself up, at the practices all that jazz and just them like becoming friends then more than friends, the boat scene where he gets his seat taken away from him maybe? thank you so much and again I love your work! xx

Hello, my lovely anon. Glad to see you in my inbox. I apologize for the wait but I've been coming out of an awful slump and I was trying to make this piece not total garbage. I hope you enjoy it and I hope I see you in my inbox again.

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Joe Rantz (Callum Turner’s) x reader

wc: 4,600

Joe finds himself utterly gobsmacked when he discovers that the pretty face he’s seen at the shell house is the coach’s daughter and not his wife.

Enjoy this garbage!

…

Joe Rantz had come to the shell house in search of work. He’d hoped that making the team would cover his tuition and get him a room and he needed it so desperately. Roger Morris stood next to him, chewing nervously at his nails. “Sorry, Joe, didn’t realize competition would be so tight.” He mutters, spitting out a shred of his fingernail. Coach Ulbrickson was going over the basics of practice. It sounded like absolute hell to Joe but he was out of options. He fidgeted with the number painted on his jersey. Sure, he was strong from a lifetime of rough labor but so were the other boys. Most of them were broke too and just as desperate. Joe didn’t know if he had what it took to stand out but he’d be damned if he couldn’t make a life for himself because he couldn’t muscle up some money for college.

As Ulbrickson speaks, a shadow appears in his office window. It’s too far for Joe’s nervous gaze to actually study the figure. He tries to focus on coach but the shadow continues to draw his attention. Roger notices too. “Who the hell is that?” Joe just shrugs. The shadow never leaves the window even as Ulbrickson finishes up and the boys get split up. Joe can’t dwell on the figure any longer because he’s being herded into the middle of shellhouse. He begins a horrible set of workouts. His body is made for hard work but he’s never actually worked out before. His muscles aren’t used to straining this way.

It’s not long before his breathing becomes labored and sweat is pouring down his back. His curls hang down his forehead, sticking to his skin uncomfortably. And just when the pain is becoming unbearable the coaches are swapping them out and Joe is put on a junky old boat and an oar is pushed into his hands. They start rowing and instantly, the only thing on Joe’s mind is how bad his back hurts. Pained grunts and groans echo across the water as the boys struggle to keep pulling the oars.

Eventually, it’s all over. Joe stumbles onto the dock in front of the shellhouse and feels his knees shaking with excursion. Men begin to drain away from the shellhouse and as the numbers dwindle, the shadow in the window of Ulbrickson’s office reappears. It moves through the glass panes like a swan through water. Then the office door opens and Joe sees your face for the first time.

“That was some tough practice, huh?” Roger bumps Joe’s shoulder, a crooked smile on his face. Joe cannot respond and Roger follows his gaze. “Washington, Washington, what finery you enjoy.”

You descend the steps and take a place between Ulbrickson and Bolles. Ulbrickson puts and arm around and Joe feels his heart wither a little. You’re probably Mrs. Ulbrickson. Though he can’t shake the impression that you look a little too young to be with Ulbrickson.

“Alas,” Roger throws up his hands, “Finery we cannot also enjoy.”

“Don’t be crass.”

“I’m not! How was that crass?” Roger purses his lips and nudges Joe.

Joe just buttons up his jacket and picks up his books, “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

The very next day, Joe is suffering through practice. He aches all over and his muscles scream at him. He’s already shaking when he gets done with the basic strength building exercises. Most of the boys are. There are fewer numbers today but this does not better Joe’s odds by much. They clamber into Old Nero and start rowing away. His wrists twinge and his knees spasm. He rows and rows until he thinks his body will give out and then Ulbrickson is directing them back to the shellhouse. Jow crawls out of the boat, soaked to the bone and stiff as a board.

Then he sees you again, this time your sorting registry papers with Pocock. Your back is turned to him, so you don’t notice his longing stare. He keeps telling himself that you’re a married lady and that he should be focused on making the team, but nothing seems to chase you from his mind.

Coach Ulbrickson sweeps across the dock and places a hand on top of your head, an odd gesture between husband and wife but Joe wouldn’t know about those things. Since his group was the last to use Old Nero, they get the privilege of stowing the oars. Joe begins unlatching the mechanism when he shifts on his knees.

It happens so fast he can’t clock what’s happening. First there’s the sensation of slipping, the horrible thrust of his legs flying out from beneath him. He twists mid slip, and his side smacks the dock painfully before he’s swept off the dock by his own weight. He plumets into the cold water with a catastrophic splash and agonized shriek.

When Joe resurfaces a dozen hands are reaching for him. He grasps onto George Hunt’s forearm and allows Shorty to hoist him onto the sodden wood planks. A fluffy white towel is draped around his shoulders; firm hands rub his chilled biceps. “Are you alright?” You face appears before him.

Joe is almost too stunned to speak, “I—yeah, yeah I’m okay.”

You tuck the ends of the towel into his hands, “Better get showered up and dressed.” Joe just nods and stumbles past you and into the locker room. Roger follows closely behind, teasing Joe relentlessly.

“You’re fallin’ harder than I thought.”

“Roger!” Joe grinds his teeth, huffing and puffing. “You need better jokes.”

Joe spends that night struggling to focus on his schoolwork. He has math homework that needs doing. He has books to read. The one in his hands now periodically goes in and out of focus as Joe’s mind wanders. On the page is the story of a western novel, a man had found a girl walking alone the road at dusk, all on her own. He didn’t want to leave her to the coyotes, so he offered her a ride into the nearest town. They were riding horseback across the prairie. Her arms wound tightly around him; her hands splayed over his chest.

Her hands—

What is wrong with you, Joe?

Joe reads this line over and over again. Each time he nears the end his brain short circuits and all he can think about are your hands on your shoulders. You hadn’t even really touched him, at least not his skin. Yet the only thing shooting through his neurons are the sensations of your fingers along his skin. That imaginary touch he can conjure up so perfectly. He eventually gives in and skips down a few paragraphs. He reads late into the night and the phantom touches are still nagging his senses when he closes the book and rolls over to sleep.

…

Day after day, Joe sees you at practice. You congratulate him when he makes the team and help him with his technique every once and a while. “Roll your wrists just a bit more.” Your fingers would poke at his forearms and direct him in graceful strokes. It fries his brain. You give pointers to the rest of the team too, working closely with Bolles and Pocock to get them in racing shape. It’s not long into the season when Ulbrickson decides to switch coxswains.

“This is Bobby Moch. Your new jockey.” Bolles announces one day. Bobby is short and slender and sharp tongued. The second he climbs in the boat and starts barking out commands, Joe is flabbergasted. Who is Bobby to talk to the team this way? But they all find themselves obeying his every word. What really irks Joe about Bobby is how friendly he is with you. You exchange jokes and poke fun at each other. Joe tells himself that he just thinks it’s inappropriate to flirt with the coach’s wife but beneath it all he’s incredibly jealous that Bobby can make you laugh so easily. It makes Joe pine for attention in a way that he never has before.

The day of their race against California, Joe is all jitters and nerves. He bounces on the balls of his feet and shakes his hands, trying to loosen the anxiety. Streamers and garlands of flags decorate the locker room and the campus. People have gathered in clusters along the course and wave flags of purple and gold. The smell of popcorn and peanuts permeates the air and Joe promises to indulge himself if they win.

As the crew carried their shell down to the water, they begin chanting to themselves. “Bow down to Washington!” They neglect the varsity’s jeers and clip their oars into position. They spot Coach Ulbrickson in the stands, you at his side. And then there’s another woman. And Ulbrickson hugs her. And then he kisses her.

Right in front of you! What is going on?

“Rantz! Eyes on me!” Bobby hollers. But Joe can’t help stealing another confused glance. “I said quite drooling over coach’s daughter and LOOK AT ME!”

Joe feels like an idiot. He puts his head down in shame and tightens his grip on the oar. Ulbrickson joins them on the dock and gives one of his famously encouraging speeches. Joe is only half paying attention. They push off and are left with lovely Bobby hyping them up while they wait for the race to start. They lean forward, like a bow drawn for a shot. And then the white flag flies and the boats shoot away from the docks.

There’s nothing but blur as Joe rows. He can only focus on the muscled shoulders of Don Hume in the stroke seat as Bobby screams at them. “28!”

About halfway through the course, Bobby demands the stroke rate be upped and Don performs. The shell lurches forward, eating up the distance between Washington and Cal until the JV boat surpasses the Berkeley blokes. Then the boat is cutting across the finish line, a clean win. Adrenaline rushes Joe’s veins. He throws his fists in the air as the team splashes and roars. They’re inevitably drowned out by the crowd who bursts up in a shower of peanuts and Washington flags.

Coach Ulbrickson, the new woman Joe assumes his Ulbrickson’s wife, and you rush the dock as the boys climb out of the boat. “Excellent job.” Mrs. Ulbrickson shakes their hands as they unclip their oars. Bolles is compassionate enough to give them each a pat on the back as they hoist the boat over their heads and haul it off.

Joe can’t help but notice the copious amounts of onlookers pooling around the shell as they carry it back to the shellhouse. They set it down on the stands and before they can even take their hands off the shell, they are bombarded by Washington fans. Girls reaching out to stroke their biceps or kiss their cheeks. Joe has never received attention like this once in his life. He’s as polite as possible, brushing off a few girls here and there and shaking the hand of the occasional fellow. Shorty has accumulated a few lipstick stains on his cheek. Don Hume is blushing from the tips of his ears down to the point of his freckled nose. Chuck and Roger accept a few hugs. They bask in the winners’ glory for only a few moments until the varsity team strolls by. They make a comment to Moch that Joe doesn’t catch but judging by the way Bobby’s shoulders square he can make obvious conclusions.

“You rowed so well today, Joe.” He hears your voice, and his palms start to sweat.

“Thanks, I uh—” It occurs to him that he doesn’t actually know a thing about you. “Sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten your name.” You smile at him, and syllables fall out but the crowd is too loud. “What?” Your grasp his shoulder and lean in, the sound of your name echoes off the shell of his ear.

When you pull away, you’re still smiling but before Joe can ask you another question, Bobby is buzzing by with a play-by-play of exactly what happened in Bobby’s world.

You shade your eyes and peer down at the docks, “Looks like dad is almost done with the varsity. I should get down there.” You say, and Bobby turns around to talk to Shorty. “Hey. Will I see you at the party tonight?” Your hand rests on Joe’s shoulder. He prays you can’t feel his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Good. You had better save a dance for me, Joe Rantz.”

You leave him breathless, the butterflies in his stomach so vicious that he shudders. He watches you disappear down the pathway to the dock and his heart starts hammering with anticipation. You want to dance with him. You want to touch his hands, touch him. And then he remembers that you already did that, he was too focused on the motion of your lips that he’d hardly registered the sensation of your hands on his arm. Damn! What had it felt like? He’d remembered it’d made him flabbergasted and choked his speech but he couldn’t remember how the grooves in your palm felt as they brushed over his skin. The warmth of your fingertips. He curses himself out and vanishes into the locker room to get changed.

…

The dance rolls around rather too quickly and Joe is swimming in nerves. He has to tie his tie twice because he messes up so badly, he can’t even draw it tight to his neck. Roger found out all too quickly and hasn’t let Joe catch a break.

“A date with coach’s daughter. Careful Joe, Ulbrickson might throw you off the team if he catches the wrong look in your eye.”

“Shut up, Roger, I’m not greasy like you”

“Ouch, that hurts me.”

“Clearly not enough.” Joe hisses as he finally gets his tie right.

“Feels like I’m a father about to send his kid off to prom.”

Joe sighs and throws on his suit coat. “Oh, please—”

“Look at you fly, shooting out of your league.”

Roger works a smile onto Joe’s face, and they set off for the party. Spring is finally warming the campus up from a brutal winter and a few couples mull around outside. Joe and Roger find their way into the crowded gymnasium, both shocked by just how loud it is. Joe can’t even hear his own thoughts. They spot the team almost immediately, clustered around tables, drinks in their hands. A few of the boys are dancing with some lovely dames, a few are leaned against the wall having close conversations. Don is sitting by himself on a bench a few feet away from the refreshment table, watching the dance floor. Joe is turning to follow Roger towards the other boys but an arm loops through his, “Thought you weren’t going to show.” You practically shout.

Joe can’t help but grin as you capture his attention. “You weren’t joking.”

“Not a bit, Rantz, didn’t have any other dancing plans except for this one.”

“Guess I should make it worth your wait then.” Joe leads you into the thicket of bodies.

He prides himself on the laugh you let out, “please do,” you say as he takes your hands and spins to face you. He places his hand high on your waist and cradles the other gently in his palm. He can feel the smooth plains of you hand against his. Each crease and each callous. His are no doubt unbelievably rough from the rowing and he would feel bad but right now all he can feel are your fingers lacing through his. “You’re not half bad.” You tease. Joe knows his cheeks are heating up to a flaming red. Probably his ears too.

His hand migrates to the small of your back as the music changes into a soft slow song. “I’ll be completely honest,” he starts, “I had no idea you were the coach’s daughter.”

“Then who else would I be?”

“I thought you were his wife.” He looks away sheepishly, but your laughter is so unrestrained and whole that Joe’s heart melts. You can’t stop laughing either and it’s contagious.

“You’re an engineering student, right?” Your shoes brush as you sway with him.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Joyce.” Joe’s heart drops. In his infatuation he’d forgotten all about her. “She was trying to hit on you, but she figured out that your attention was elsewhere.”

“You too are good friends then?”

“Just since the start of the year. We have an English class together.” You and Joe talk for a while, it forces you to be close and neither of you care to separate. Eventually, you move outside and sit with sit with Joe on the steps of the gym. It’s still chilly out and you sit close to Joe which he doesn’t mind one bit. At some point your head rests on his shoulder and you close your eyes. Joe can do nothing but stare down at you, his mouth agape.

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” You trace his knuckles with your pointer finger.

Joe’s head pounds, his mouth dry, “This has never happened to me before.”

“None of the girls from high school? Never?”

“Not one.”

You look up at Joe and reach to smooth back a blond curl. “Shame, they were missing out.” This makes Joe smile again and he’s immensely pleased with how easily you do that to him. Make him happy. He hasn’t felt like this since… he can’t remember when. Sure, he was happy when the team won but that was different. That was pride. So was making the team. This feels more affectionate, closer to the heart. He wonders if this is what love feels like but that would be silly; he’s only known your name for a day. He’s also never been flattered quite like this. Besides Joyce, he can’t think of anyone else who’s actually been interested in him. Certainly not one who compliments him the way you do.

People start to drain out of the gym very slowly and Joe checks his watch. “So late already?”

“Guess I should get home; my dad will be wrought with worry.” You joke and straighten out your skirt.

“Can I walk you home?”

“I would love that.”

Joe offers you his hand, “Where does coach live?”

“Not too far.” You accept his calloused hand and direct him off campus. Surprisingly, Joe has read the book you’re reading for English and time flies as you discuss the book. Then Joe makes a sobering comment that makes you stop and study him.

“His parents remind me of my own.”

Joe realizes what he’s let slip, “Don’t worry about it too much. I’m okay.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

Joe presses his lips into a line and stares down at his worn shoes. A wave of self-consciousness washes over him as he realizes how ragged of a life he has lived and just how much it shows. “Well—”

“Is this why you have a hard time trusting your team?”

“Hey now,”

“Sorry.” You take his hands.

He grimaces and squeezes your soft palms. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes.”

Joe sighs and swipes a thumb across your knuckles. “My Pops just… left me one day. Told me I’d be fine on my own.” Joe gives you parts of the story. Mostly what he feels like stomaching at the moment.

When he’s finished you let go of his hands and cup his cheeks. He sinks into the touch, soaking it up like a flower budding in sunlight. You don’t say anything, you just look at him. You look at him like he’s the only thing that’s ever mattered and his heart trembles because he has never once known what it’s like to be that for someone else. And then you stand on tip toes and plant a hearty kiss on his forehead. “This is it actually,” you gesture behind you at the hosue that must be the Ulbricksons’. “I’ll see you tomorrow at practice?”

“Yeah.” The spot on his forehead that you kissed tingles. “Nowhere else I’d want to be.”

…

The Poughkeepsie Regatta rolls around all too quickly and Ulbrickson has to make a decision. The varsity boat who deserves it. Or the JV boat who could win it. His hands sweat as he stands on at that pulpit and reads off his preplanned speech. As he talks, he thinks about the future of the rowing program. The jobs it has provided him and Bolles. About how Pocock would have to find work elsewhere and it’d kill Al Ulbrickson to send him away.

He leans into the mic and spits, “and that boat is our JV boat.” It has to be them. They have to win. Moans and groans blow his way as the crowd rejects his announcement. Regret washes over him but he cannot take this back. He has to be right about his crew. He tips his hat and hustles off the podium as the JV bursts into celebration. He has to be right.

…

Joe is more than pleased to see you on the train to Poughkeepsie. He slides into the car with you, and you chat away. You were fast friends the night of the dance and have since become closer. The kiss on the forehead still lingers sometimes, especially when Joe sees your lips form your smile. You entice him into some card games and eventually a game of chess. At some point, he decides that he needs to sleep and bids you goodnight so that he can find a train car to sleep in. But before he does, he sneaks a chaste kiss onto your knuckles.

His good mood is stamped out the very next day when the team takes to the water. They don’t row good, and frustration starts to build. Bobby and the coaches try and get them working together, telling them that it’s just nerves and new water. But tensions rise regardless. The days start to dwindle, and the crew is getting worse and worse.

Blame starts to turn to him, and Joe is at a loss. He doesn’t want to believe that he’s holding the team back, but he thinks back to what you said that night he walked you home. But the most awful feeling creeps over him, not an ounce of care. What’s wrong with him. This crew has been the only family he’s had in years. He needs them. But he can’t bring himself to admit it.

Before he knows it, it slips and Ulbrickson is exiling him from the boat. As the crew watches Joe storm away, their spare crawls in and they set off for another row. Bolles taps you on the shoulder, “you had better see if you can do anything. Enlist Pocock if you have to.” Your father nods along.

You set out to find him, not that it was hard there’s not many places he can go alone. He’s stuffing his suitcase when you find him. “Don’t start.” He snaps. Then he sees your expression and his anger sours. “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t—”

“Don’t give up on your team, Joe.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, you’re quitting and throwing everything you’ve worked for away.”

“Don’t, don’t even start to pretend you know me.” He realizes too late that he’s made everything so much worse and before he can fix a thing Pocock is at the door.

“I could use some help putting another coat of oil on the shell.”

You duck past Pocock and leave Joe with a painful pit of remorse in his stomach. He follows Pocock and takes the talking to straight to the heart. As he lathers on a thick coat of oil, he figures he can bargain with Ulbrickson in the morning, but he should make a proper apology to you now. He racks his brain for anything that would make it right, but he’s horrifically inexperienced and it’s crippling him now. He feels like a child having a tantrum. He feels miniscule and insignificant.

After Joe dunks his brush into the whale oil can for the last time, he figures he’d better just confront the issue head on since he has no way of handling it delicately. He has no grace and he’s sure you’re aware of this. Pocock gives him an encouraging pat and takes the can from him. Joe winds his way back to the hotel and through the halls. Your room is on the second floor, third door down. He knocks gently, eyes lingering on the hideous carpet and tacky sconces. The door swings open after a moment and Joe is met with your disapproving glower. His tongue seems to swell in his mouth so badly that he worries it’ll flop out when he tries to speak.

“Coffee?” You ask when you realize he will stand there silently forever if you don’t let him in.

“No… I just wanted to—to apologize.”

“Oh really.” Your eyebrow quirks.

Joe is fumbling for words. You stand aside and motion for him to step inside so you can have this discussion in privacy. “I know that was wrong to take out my frustration on you. That wasn’t fair and none of it is your fault.” He twiddles his thumbs. How does he go about this without absolutely butchering it? “I just—” As he trails off, he notices a hurt dullness in your eyes. He recognizes it as pity. “You and the crew are really all I’ve got, and I’m so scared I’m going to lose it.”

“These boys aren’t going to leave you behind unless you separate yourself from them like today.”

“I know.

“Really?”

“Pocock made sure I know.”

The edges of your lips tilt up. You pull him down onto the foot of the bed and take his hand. “Are you actually going to try and trust them?”

“Don’t have enough faith to put it in anyone else.”

You squeeze his hand and trace a finger along his jawline, sweeping a knuckle under his chin. You force his stubborn gaze to you and find nothing but desperation. Wanting things like this doesn’t come natural to Joe and it shows, but he’s not so different from the other boys in that boat.

You reach up and fiddle with a curl, “apology accepted.” Tears pool in the corners of his eyes and he tries to choke them down. You place a hand on his chest and rest your forehead on his. His breath fans over your cheeks. The tip of his nose brushes yours. His shoulders sag inwards and he reaches for your waist.

“Can I—may I kiss you?”

Joe’s sweetness never fails to amaze you. You cradle his face and bring him closer. “Yes, Joe.” His breath hitches and his lips finally meet yours for the very first time. He’s gentle but generous and lets you kiss him for as long as you like. His arms wrap around you fully and hold you to his chest. He gets the feeling that he’ll be craving these moments all the time now, finally understanding what Roger and Chuck rave about. He’s hooked on your lips and your weight against him and when you pull away it breaks his heart.

“You should get cleaned up before you talk to my father, you smell like whale oil.”

...

Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading this. If you'd like to request, feel free to do so. I always love you in my inbox. I hope you enjoyed this fic and if you like it please check out my masterlist for more. Have nice day.

-the author

#boys in the boat #Joe rantz #callum turner #joe rantz x reader #callum turner x reader

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 5 months

Text

black friday - m. murdock

a/n: an old work i finished because i decided y'all are owed something cute and fluffy. shoutout to all my girlies who were in codependent relationships for so long that they needed to figure out who they were again after ! as always, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! warnings: lots of fluff, lots of kissing, lots of talks about a bad ex, reader is rather shy at first, cursing probably but it's late and i'm probably forgetting so much im so sorry also a lot of suggestive behavior because they're in love word count: 4.5k summary: you have a list of things to do within a year of living in new york. matt helps you check everything off- oh, and you fall in love with him, too. it's not on the list, but you do it anyways. pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: black friday - tom odell "i wanna go party/i wanna have fun/wanna be happy/could you show me how it's done?/ you look so pretty/pretty like the sun"

For a long time, you thought you’d never get over your ex.

For a long time, you believed that you were it for each other. You’d go the whole nine yards—Kids, a quaint house in your hometown, Sunday dinners.

And for a long time after he broke up with you, you thought you’d never let yourself love again. How could you? How would you allow yourself to be set up for failure, after letting someone know every part of you?

You had been dating him since high school and had been living with him in your first apartment when he broke it off.

Sometimes, it was amazing, and you were never happier. But most days, it had been full of anger and talking him off the ledge all the time. It was makeup sex after arguments you couldn’t remember now.

So, when he did break up with you, you decided to use it as an excuse to run far, far away from your small town. And you found yourself in Hell’s Kitchen.

You land a job at a small law firm, and at first, you just work as a meek little office assistant.

Nelson, Murdock & Page grew by the day, and for a while, you felt out of place. It wasn’t that you were abused or worked to the bone, you just struggled to make friends, and you weren’t very social while getting over your ex anyways.

So, for about two months, you did your job quietly, laughing quietly at the bickering of your bosses, thanking Karen Page for her advice, enjoying coffee with Foggy Nelson, and of course…

Never muttering a word to Matt Murdock. He was just too intimidating. Besides, you still felt like your ex’s eyes were watching your every move, even thousands of miles away, even now.

Then one night, Foggy couldn’t handle it anymore. So, he approached you quietly at the end of a long workday, with a simple phrase.

“This week’s been crazy, huh? Hey, a few of us are going to the bar tonight, did you want to come?”

What were you supposed to say? ‘No, my ex who I don’t talk to wouldn’t like that?’

Please.

“Oh, Uhm.. I don’t know, who else is going?”

“It’ll be me, my wife, Marci, Karen..” He said.

“Sure, I’ll come.” You smiled, before you could stop yourself.

“Awesome! I’ll send you the address! I’m so glad you’re tagging along!” He grins. You’re thrilled too.

“Me too, it’ll be fun.” He begins to walk away but then he turns back around with a snap of his fingers.

“Oh! And Matt is going!”

Why wouldn’t he tell you that in the first place? Why was your face burning? Why was your heart racing?

“Oh, Great.” You told him, now suddenly conscious of everything about that night.

• • •

At the bar, you wound up ordering a drink before you went over to your friends—Well, Coworkers, you wouldn’t call them friends yet, thanking the woman behind the bar.

Then, you made your way over to them where Foggy was playing his wife in Pool—and losing horribly. So, you sit with Karen and Matt, where there is conveniently one seat available, right between the two.

Karen excitedly said your name as you approach adding a, “I can’t believe you came!” Which, ouch, but, fair.

“Well, Foggy was right, this week’s been awful, so I wanted to relax.” You smiled, sitting with them.

“I’m glad,” she said, before asking, “So, why’d you move to New York?” She knew you weren’t from here, so you figured the question would come up eventually.

“Just needed a change of pace from a small town, you know?”

“I do,” she nodded, “Do you like it here?”

Did you like being alone all the time, feeling like you’re always doing something wrong? Like you should run back to your hometown and beg your ex to marry you?

“Yeah, I love it. It’s so different in a way I wasn’t really prepared for, but it’s great.” You lied.

Matt’s blind. Why did it feel like he has this burning gaze into your skin?

“Did you go to college in your hometown, too?”

“Yeah,” You smile. You loved College. You were an early education major and had even gotten your masters in your small community college. You loved teaching, and if you hadn’t moved, you’d have stayed at the school that hired you after student teaching there. But, when you got to the city, you were unable to find consistent work because the demand for teachers was so high.

So here you were, working as an office assistant for a small law firm.

Karen glanced down to her glass and frowned.

“I’m going to grab another drink, do either of you want anything?”

“I’m good, Karen.”

“No, thank you.”

Silence. Sickening silence.

Then, he spoke.

“Do you know how upset I am that you got your drink already?”

What?

You furrowed your brows, confused.

“I’m sorry?”

“I wanted to buy you a drink, but you beat me to it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You repeated, a light blush on your face.

“Well, I figured it might be nice to wipe the slate clean, considering you haven’t spoken more than ten words to me since you started working with us.”

That was true. There’s just something that feels so wrong about it, even though you worked with him,

“I’m sorry,” you said again, and he just laughed.

“You say that a lot.”

“I’m sor—” You caught yourself, clearing your throat. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, you speak to everyone, just not me. So, I listen and I’m pretty sure you apologize more than anything else.”

Your face was beet red.

“Okay, Okay, I get it. I don’t talk a lot, especially not to you. It’s something I’m working on, I have a whole list of things I’m working on.”

That’s true. You had an actual list of goals you have before your first year in New York is up.

“A list?”

“A list.”

“May I?” He asked, and you sighed, pulling out your phone, your list nestled deep into your notes app.

“Apologize less and talk to you is at the top.” You told him. “Then it’s get a job I love,”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry, Boss.” You took a sip of your drink, “Move into a nicer apartment, and uh..” You sighed softly. “Get over my ex.”

He tilts his head.

“Your ex?”

“The reason I moved here. He broke up with me about six months ago, but we were together for so long it feels like an impossible task.”

Matt knows the feeling.

“It’s an easy enough list. We can help you.” He says, “When did you move to New York?”

“May 1st.”

“Okay, then by May of next year, you should have everything accomplished.”

“We?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna help you.”

“Oh, so now it’s you and not all of you?”

Now it’s his turn to blush.

“You’re rather talkative now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like it.”

• • •

Talking to Matt is easy, you discover quickly.

It’s the apologizing that gets you.

You’re staying late at the office about a month later, while Hell’s Kitchen is amid a blistering heat wave.

You feel like you might die. You’re editing a closing argument Foggy wants to practice when Matt calls your name gently.

“Can I see you in my office for a second?” He asks. You follow him into his office, not really thinking much of it.

“What’s up?” You ask, sitting in the spare chair in his office as he closes the door behind him, going to the seat at his desk.

“Well, remember that list we talked about?”

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t heard much from you this week.”

That’s true, it’s just been sort of a hectic time with cases piling up. You can only do so much work AND talk to your favorite coworker. Yes, Matt had quickly become your favorite person at the office, even after just a month of really trying to open up to him.

He learned about your ex, your holiday traditions and that you hate peppermint.

You learned about his parents, his favorite dessert, and that he dresses up every night to go fight the criminals of New York.

Okay, you technically weren’t supposed to learn that, but you had stopped by his apartment early to drop off a file you were working on, and he had just crawled home and was still in his suit when he answered the door, forgetting completely that you didn’t know.

So now You knew how he was able to tell that you lied to Karen that night at the bar.

“I’m—” You start to apologize, but then you stop yourself. “I’m not sorry, I’ve been busy and so have you, but I do miss talking to you, though I am not sorry.” You say, and he grins.

“That’s my girl.”

Huh.

Your stomach swirls and you beam at the praise.

Wait, what?

You brush it off, before asking,

“Does Daredevil still come out to play even though it’s a hundred degrees out?”

“Will you have your window open with a few bottles of water open for me?”

“Always.”

“Then yes.”

Talking to Matt is rather easy. You have a feeling that soon the apologizing will follow.

• • •

October is the month of figuring out what you want to do with your life.

Sure, you love working in the office, but you are going crazy. You’re under stimulated and the hours are consistently long.

So, you try a lot of things.

You bake, you cook, you take exams, you work tirelessly to try and figure out where you want to work and where you’ll be happiest.

You try doing hair but find yourself uninspired.

You think you might like being a nursing assistant but turns out, you don’t like blood.

But part of you knows your heart isn’t in it, for two reasons.

For one, you want to teach. You want to be teaching young kids’ addition and their spelling and stars. You desperately want to be a great influence in their lives.

And the second thing is..

You don’t want to leave your coworkers.

You love spending time with Karen and Foggy. For a long time, you didn’t have friends outside of your relationship, and they are the best friends you’ve ever had.

Foggy spends long coffee breaks cracking jokes with you and asking for your sandwich order, telling you that you have to stop by his brother’s deli for one of his signature subs. Then he tells you this long-winded story about how his mother wanted him to be a butcher, not a lawyer.

Karen is your favorite girl. She’s not only drop dead gorgeous and ridiculously smart, but she is also kind like no one you have ever met. She texts you when you forget to let her know you’ve gotten home safe, there is always a coffee on your desk when you get there and for your birthday, flowers are on your desk, scribbled with a cute note in her handwriting.

And then, there’s Matt.

He’s your best friend and knows you better than anyone. He loves having you right in the office where he can hear your heartbeat and smell your vanilla coconut perfume. He tells you about his dad and you tell him about your folks.

He knows your Chinese and Thai food orders like the back of his hand, always ordering you some when he gets his. You describe the movies you’re watching in detail, and he hangs on to every word. There is no one who sees you more than him, and he’s quite literally blind. When you tell him about your dream to go back into teaching, he encourages it.

“When I was a kid, I’d have benefited so much from someone like you.”

He asks you to do his makeup for his Halloween costume, no matter how badly it irritates his skin. He likes the idea of your hands so close to his face.

But you’re both critically aware of how, not only is the market flooded, but you’re dreading the day you leave your little office job.

So many people have asked if the two of you are dating. And you both always laugh, because.. because you just love each other in a way that you can’t describe. But no, you’ve never thought about dating Matt Murdock.

Until this one day.

It’s like any other day, really. You have your friends cramped in your tiny apartment and you’re just waiting for Matt’s arrival before you eat dinner for the night.

Karen, Foggy and Marci sit at your little table as you finish cooking, and Marci just glances over to you.

“You need to move to a better apartment.”

“I know, I know,” you laugh, “But she’s so cozy! I love it here!” It was, and is, all you could afford, but you grew to love it.

“Yeah, and I love having leg room.” Foggy chimes.

“You know what, Nelson? You could just, pay me more so I could move somewhere nicer?”

“Touche.” There’s a knock on the door, so you grin and head over there, opening the door for Matt.

And you need to take a second.

He’s holding your favorite bottle of wine, and he’s in these nice dark jeans and a gray sweater under his peacoat.

This thought strikes you.

This thing you thought you’d never feel again after your ex.

Matt Murdock is hot, and you have got to have him.

This is it. The thing you can’t deny any longer. You have a massive crush on the devil that disguises himself as your favorite person. To you, he is an angel.

“Hey,” you say breathily, as if you have it out for yourself. Surely he’ll know. “You didn’t have to bring wine.” You told him, a soft smile on your face.

He steps inside as you take the wine, leaning in to kiss your cheek gently, something he has found himself doing every time he enters your apartment. It’s your routine. He loves this aspect of your dynamic because he has known that he’s wanted you for months. You’ve just been so caught up in everything that you didn’t see it.

“It’s no trouble, thank you for having us,” he says gently.

So this is it.

You just can’t deny it.

You have a massive crush on Matt Murdock, and there isn’t a thing you could do about it. Except maybe kiss him. But for that night, you just kind of relax and pretend you’re already dating him. That’s something you haven’t done in a long time.

You’re beginning to feel like yourself again.

• • •

Nelson Family Christmas celebrations are something of legend for you. For months you’ve heard about it, and you’re on your way to the deli with a handful of presents and two trays of cookies.

You’ve decided that just once, you want a holiday away from your family. Truth be told, you really don’t want to spend your holiday without your best friends.

You have on this stunning outfit—A red sweater, a black skirt and these warm black stockings. Boots to die for.

You know Matt can’t see your outfit, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting to dress up for him. It’s weird. This crush thing has been getting out of control.

You’re greeted at the door of the Deli with a crowd full of blonde-haired New York Irish-Italians, and they’re all lovely. You put your presents down and place your cookies on the dessert table. And you love Foggy’s family. They ask you questions constantly, and Foggy’s sister-in-law talks to you for a while about her career in the local high school system.

It’s a joy to meet so many people so full of love.

So, you go over to Foggy as he’s yapping and say gently, “Hey, where’s Matt?”

He grins.

“Why do you want to go kiss him under the mistletoe?” He teases. Your face goes red.

“Shut up! Where is he, Franklin?” You glare and he laughs, patting your arm.

“Upstairs in the hallway.” He says, and as you walk away he calls, “Go get ‘em, Tiger!” You glare and grab a cookie on your way up.

And you find him, standing in a quiet corner of the hallway. You go to open your mouth and he turns to you.

“Merry Christmas,” he leans forward and kisses your cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Matty.” You hum. “Guess what type of cookie I have.”

He sniffs the air and shakes his head. “Give me a taste and I’ll guess.” You hand him the cookie and he put it in his mouth halfway, raising his eyebrows to you.

“What?”

He gestures to the cookie in his mouth, and you laugh, realizing that he wants you to bite the other end, ala Lady and the Tramp. So you lean forward and take a bite, and he eats the rest, inches separating your face as you enjoy your treat.

People chatter down the hallway and Christmas music plays from somewhere. There are so many different foods and people, and all Matt can focus on is the vanilla coconut scent of your perfume. When you’re both finished eating your cookie, his hands find your waist.

“Matt, what are you—”

You don’t get the chance to finish because suddenly he is kissing you in the dark hallway of your friend’s family Christmas party. The kiss is wonderful. He tastes of the cookie you two shared. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

You need more kissing practice because it’s been so long. But you get the feeling that Matt won’t mind helping you out if this is another thing you want to add to your list.

When he pulls away, he’s a bit breathless but he says one thing to you.

“Chocolate chip peanut butter.”

“What?”

“That’s my guess for the cookie type.”

“Wanna kiss me again to confirm?” He grins and his hands travel down, just slightly to feel the materials of your skirt.

“That’s my girl.”

• • •

The next two months fly by in a whirl of kissing Matt, trying to find a teaching job and enjoying your first real winter in New York.

By the time March rolls around, the clock is ticking for you to be able to find a job in this school year. And then, Foggy and Matt get you the best gift ever.

“Mrs. Future Murdock,” You send Foggy a glare.

“Watch it.”

“Okay, listen—You remember that rich guy that was wrongfully accused of tax evasion?”

“Yeah, why?” You’re cleaning up your office space for the weekend, excited to go to Josie’s, have a few drinks and unwind with your very handsome boyfriend.

“Well, he’s a super intendent for a large school district in Hell’s Kitchen.” Your head snaps up to the two.

“What does that mean for me?” You raise an eyebrow.

“There’s an older teacher there who needed to have surgery and we thought, hey, we know a teacher who could sub in.”

“…Who?”

“You.” Matt says, and you grin. “Your interview is Monday.”

You gasp and hug Foggy quickly, before making your way over to Matt.

“You are the absolute best.” You kiss him quickly and his hands, as they often do, find themselves on your hips. “Thank you.”

What a lovely lovely man.

“Don’t thank us yet, you still need to get the job.” Right.

Your night at Josie’s is lovely but you spend the rest of your weekend prepping for the interview on Monday. It goes well, but something in you is telling you to stay anxious. Why? You have no idea.

It takes two weeks for them to get back to you. But you walk into the office of Nelson, Murdock & Page with a big grin. You walk right into Matt’s office, who glances up to you when you walk in, your heart racing.

“Hey, Sweetheart, I—” He cuts himself off when you walk right up to his desk and pull his chair out before finding yourself on Matt’s lap. Your arms wrap around his neck and his arms find your waist. Before he can say much else, you kiss him quickly, and he grins into the kiss. Eventually, when you do pull away, Matt asks, “Everything okay?”

“Matty, consider this to be my two weeks’ notice.”

He gasps happily.

“Oh my god! How awful it is that you’re leaving us!” He grins, kissing you quickly. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you for getting me the interview.” You tell him, “You know if I do well, the teacher might let me coteach with her next year.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Our list is almost done, baby.”

“Your list, not ours.”

“Yeah but you’ve been helping so much.”

“You’re easy to help.”

“You’re easy to love.”

He blushes and decides to kiss his girl again.

• • •

So, in April, a month before your year is up, you find yourself needing a new apartment. The rent is getting crazy, and it’s nowhere near the school you’re working in. Especially considering that the teacher you’re subbing for decided she wanted to retire so you’d be taking over for her full time come Fall.

Plus, your apartment is small and cramped, especially with Matt’s stuff slowly invading your place. You discuss this with him one night. It’s late and he’s covered in cuts from his Daredeviling.

“I hate apartment hunting.” You whine, and he hums, kissing your head gently. “Nowhere is good enough. Too far from the school, too far from you, too expensive.” You complain.

“Why don’t you move in here?”

Huh. Why hadn’t you thought of that? Was it too quick to be moving in with him at this point? Maybe, but something told you Matt wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“Really?”

He grins.

“Really. It’s close to the school, a good price, and rather close to me.” You grin and kiss him softly. It’s your favorite habit.

So, two weeks later, you’re hauling boxes into your boyfriend’s apartment. You take a few drawers of his dresser and some of your nicer outfits find their way into his armoire. Your mugs sit comfortably next to his in his cabinets. Your cabinets.

Your throw blanket is draped comfortably across his couch, and your shoes lay next to his.

Your lotion sits next to his first aid kit. You love dating Matt Murdock.

You love that next month will be one year since you moved to New York, and your life is sort of coming together. Glorious Matthew Murdock is your boyfriend. Your job is amazing. Your apartment is wonderful. Matt Murdock is your boyfriend, and he is amazing at kissing you.

• • •

So, Matt knows May is your year since moving to New York. He knows you guys could go to Josie’s and have a normal old time at the bar…

But he wants to do something special for you. So, he asks Foggy, Marci and Karen to get dressed up and go to a bar on the nicer side of town. Not that you don’t love Josie’s but your one year in New York calls for a special occasion.

You decide to wear a nice satin dress and he loves running his hands over the soft fabric. To Mat, you are perfect in every way, and every day he falls deeper and deeper in love with you.

So on a warm May night in Hell’s Kitchen, you sit in a bougie bar with your best friends, boyfriend and enjoy a year since you moved to this wonderful place you now call home. And a year and four months since your ex broke up with you. Truly, for a long time, you thought you’d never get over him.

Now, Matt is all you see.

At some point, a little tipsy, you kiss Matt’s cheek gently and tell him you’re going to grab another drink.

“Do you want anything?” You ask softly.

“Just for you to come back soon. I’ll miss you.” Oh, Tipsy Matt was your favorite.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” You kiss him quick and head off to the bar. You order another drink and wait patiently, taking in just how happy you are in this moment.

Then, a familiar voice calls your name, and you glance over and you can’t believe it.

Your ex-boyfriend is right in front of you, and for a moment, you convince yourself you must be drunker than you realized.

“Wow, you look fantastic!” He says a grin on his face. Was… Was your ex ever… attractive? You can’t remember if he ever was. Especially not since dating Matt.

“Oh, Thanks..” You smile softly, trying to be polite but to get out of here quickly and get back to the arms of your loving boyfriend.

“Are you here with anyone?”

“Yeah.” You told him. “Some of my good friends, and—”

“So, you’re not seeing anyone?” You furrow your eyebrows. When did you say that?

Then, there’s an arm around your waist, and you know whose it is in an instant.

“Hey, Sweetheart.. Is everything okay?” Matt asks, smiling to you. Oh, he knows. He knows big time.

“Everything is great.” You turn to your ex and grin. “This is Matt, He’s my—”

“Fiancé.” Matt ends.

Fiancé?

“Fiancé?” Your ex asks, bewildered.

“Mhm. Got engaged a few days ago, that’s what we’re here celebrating.” You said gently, leaning your head against Matt’s arm.

“Engaged, but you’ve only been here for a year!”

“Well, I wasn’t about to wait around for you to ask me to date you again.” You glance over to Matt. “Besides, when you know you know.” You say softly.

Matt leans in and kisses you gently, “When you know, you know.” He echoes.

Your ex is wildly uncomfortable.

“I thought you said you’d always love me.” He says, and he has that intimidating tone to his voice that you hate.

“Yeah… Me too.. Guess I was wrong. You have a nice night, Okay?” You smile and take your drink, turning to head back to your friends. Your ex is bummed out but leaves you alone, and Matt grins to you further.

“When you know you know.” He hums.

“Fiancé..” You echo. He shrugs gently.

“I like the sound of it.”

“Me too.” You say gently. “I love you.”

“I love you, Sweetheart.” He kisses your cheek. “So… A year in New York.”

“Yup. My list is all done.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I talk to you all the time, and I don’t apologize unless it’s necessary. I love teaching and my job. My apartment is stellar, and… I think it’s safe to say I am over my ex. I upgraded. In fact, my upgrade is so much hotter than anyone else I know.”

Matt leans in to kiss you, a grin on his face, but he mutters a soft, “That’s my girl,” Before he does.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil fic #fluff #foggy nelson #karen page #tooth rotting fluff #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock my beloved

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

Text

In Your Defense

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: After being forced into marriage, you decided you would make the best of it, deciding whomever you'd wed could surely not be worse than your father. And upon learning your husband-to-be's erratic behavior is matched with a fierce sense of loyalty, you decide to be a dutiful wife and present yourself to him on your wedding night.

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: Feminism left my body, brief mentions of abusive father, arranged/forced marriage, fem!reader, smut (4k+ smut?????? I-, honestly high key pwp, virgin!reader, first time awkwardness, fingering, vaginal penetration, praise kink), protective!daemon, fluff, TYPOS (im sorry), etc.

A/N: im treating myself by writing this because im going through it and this blonde demon is so hot Part 2 kinda "Tea time"

"What kind of man is he?" I asked. "The prince?" the king sighed, leaning back on his chair, "I'm afraid he is as insolent as the rumors say he is." I pick at my nails upon hearing this. "Still," he adds, "he is my brother. I trust him with my life." My eyes lift from my hands. King Viserys holds a sincere expression on his face. It does not falter as he continues, " and I like to think it is not due to my lack of better judgement."

I took in a deep breath before entering the chambers that is now mine and my husband's. I grip my sweaty hands together as I enter, chewing on my lower lip in agitation.

Prince Daemon turns to me from across the room; he was in the middle of changing out of his wedding attire. His eyes were fixed on me as he unbuttoned his coat.

I take in another breath and walk up to him, making him still his actions. I know his gaze does not leave me even though I could not look at him on my way over.

Now that I stood before him, I dare to look at his piercing, violet eyes.

The prince's face is dark, as the moonlight was the only source of light in the room. This was the second instance I was able to behold the slope of his nose and the curve of his lips, the first being mere minutes ago during our marriage ceremony.

He had left the very moment he pledged himself to me. I was meant to follow him right after, but my father pulled me aside and laid forth the longest sermon he has given me yet. He made sure to grip my arm one last time, ensuring the pain of it would not make me forget his words. I had never been more relieved to be released by him than in that moment.

I push the horrible image of my father away as I reach out to the prince's hands that were stuck on his chest. Before I could touch him though, both his hands grab my wrists. I do a good job of masking my gasp after years of practice, but I cannot withhold the widening of my eyes.

He chastises me in a language I do not recognize, stepping forward once. He tilts his head in some sort of expectation. I open my mouth, "I apologize, my prince, but I do not understand."

What he says next makes goosebumps form all over my skin, "I said you do not have to offer your virginity to me tonight."

I am unable to speak or even release a sound, though my jaw is hung low.

The prince enjoys this. His lips pull up into a soft smirk. My skin burns when his fingers brush against it, as he tucks away locks of hair behind my ear, "that is, unless my pretty bride is not a virgin."

I stutter, absolutely horrified, "y-your grace, how could you think so lowly of me?"

He chuckles, the sound of it makes my stomach roll, "I do not." His hand travels down my neck where the pad of his thumb then rubs at my skin. I feel a lump form at my throat though he does not even press against me, "how funny that I'm somehow saddened by the fact no one has touched you tenderly before."

I bring my hand to his, after a shudder comes out of my mouth involuntarily.

"You are not much older that my niece," he mumbles, pulling his hand away, which in turn makes me drop mine to the side in some form of defeat. I expect him to walk away, but then he runs the back of his hand down my arm. I bite the inside of my lip harshly because of it.

I take a moment to regain my coherence; he seems acutely aware that I do. "I believe I am, indeed, three years Princess Rhaenyra's senior," I manage to choke out.

He hums, "when I was your age, I already had every woman I wanted bent over by my knee." Without warning, he takes my cheeks in both hands, causing a squeak to come out of my lips, "my princess," he says, "if you sleep with me tonight, tomorrow you may well be carrying my seed and unable to walk for it."

My pulse quickens. Daemon feels it beneath his thumb.

My lips quiver, "will it truly be that painful, my lord?"

I see his expression soften, "it may," his thumb ghosts over my lips, "but it would be the consequence of the pleasure I would give you."

I grip my hands and bite my lip in thought.

Daemon takes one more step forward.

My hands move over to his waist where they then begin to tug at his top nervously. I heave arduously, "take me then, husband."

He hums lifting my head up to look at me more intently. His thumb brushes my skin, "and is this yours or your father's desire?"

I feel disgust rise up my throat at the mention. "Does it matter?" I squeak, only realizing I spoke it out loud when he pulls away and says, "it matters to me."

When Prince Daemon begins to walk away, my heart clenches, uncertain of what to do next. I feel like a helpless mouse that was spared by a cat, or more accurately, a woman spared by a dragon and was now reeling at the unanticipated form of mercy.

"It's mine," I blurt out decisively, "I fucking hate my father,"

He stills in his tracks because of this and turns over to me from his shoulder.

"He is a cruel monster and I am glad I do not have to bend to his will any longer."

The man with silver hair chuckles as he continues making his way to the large bed, "and you believe me to be better than your father?"

We exchange looks the moment he is sat down at the end of the bed.

I pick at my nails and nibble my lip, watching the prince as he watches me, "I admit I was concerned of what your demeanor might be after learning you were called The Rogue Prince," I turn to my hands and dart my tongue out before continuing, "but I was comforted by sentiment the king had for his brother."

Daemon chuckles louder at this, crossing his arms, "and what did the king say about his brother, pray tell?"

"That he trusts him with his life," I turn back to him, "and that it is not due to his lack of better judgement."

"And you are choosing to trust this stranger you have been wed to based on this premise?"

Unable to bear the weight of his stare, I turn to the floor when I reply, "I am."

He shifts upon hearing this and speaks again in foreign tongue. I turn to him and take in his expectant look. When he does not do or say anything else, I figure he probably asked me to come over. I do just that then, releasing a breath as I take the first few steps towards him.

Once I am in front of him, his hands immediately go to my waist and he pulls me onto his lap.

I bite my lower lip so hard that I taste iron.

I am sitting on one side of his lap. He pulls my thighs close to him, securing an arm behind me. His hand brushes against my cheeks and my whole burns in anticipation at this point.

The prince places a kiss on my lips; he is eager and hungry. I instantly reach my hands out to his torso, fingers digging into his clothes. He squeezes my side, which makes me whimper. He takes it as an opportunity to deepen our exchange.

The next thing I know, he pulls away and shifts me around so that my back is pressed against his chest and his head is nestled on the crook of my neck. My toes curl at the feeling of his hot breath. He chuckles when my skin pricks yet again with goosebumps.

He does nothing but kiss me for a moment. I slowly begin to melt against him, but then his hands began to pull my skirt up. I barely manage to jolt and squeal when he claws halfway up my thighs. He shushes me, holding me down as I squirm against him. I heave heavily, completely contrasting his calm demeanor as he speaks, "it will not hurt."

My husband proceeds to nibble on my neck and I bring my hands to my mouth when I am unable to contain my moan. He chuckles, teeth grazing at me a bit harder, "you will enjoy my fingers better than my mouth in this instance."

My heart is pounding in my chest. I will my breathing to even out as I bring my hands back down to my skirt, right where the prince had his underneath. He continues to work on my neck, though his palms remain stagnant, only moving to massage my thighs slowly.

After a moment passes, I breathily urge, unsure if I was more scared of the fact he was growing restless or that I was, "continue, husband."

"As you wish, pretty wife."

His grip on my thighs tightens before they move again. I grip on the fabric beneath my fingers when I feel his thick ones rub against my heat. When I push my thighs close, he firmly digs on my flesh to bring them open, hushing me yet again.

I cannot even think to be embarrassed by the sound that rips out of my throat when his fingers enter and exit me in such a maddeningly slow pace.

He curses against my shoulder before he mutters again in the language I do not speak.

He continues these actions, I think to soothe me, and yet it elicits the opposite response. I continue to wiggle atop him, absolutely unable to contain myself. He is so desperate to keep me in place, he pulls a hand away and snakes his arm around me. My back arches against him as his actions quicken. My hands rise up to his head where they then claw at whatever I could touch.

I do feel embarrassment burn on my cheeks when suddenly, he pulls away and pushes me back on my feet. It cause of how he stood before me, tilted his head down on my smaller form, and licked his wet fingers.

The action was so obscene that my mouth opens, yet not a sound comes out.

I was still gripping my skirt when he spun me around began to unlace my dress. I feel the hair on my neck raise as his fingers tugged on my clothes.

Daemon must have felt my tension because he suddenly says, "you will enjoy this better if you relax."

"I- I'm trying."

He chuckles.

A shiver runs down my spine when he tugs my dress down and it drops to the floor. I cannot help but wrap my arms around me as he leads me out of it and spins me back to face him. He looks like he took no offence in my actions though, and even grants me the mercy of undressing himself.

When his shirt leaves him, I turn away, finding the ceiling so very interesting. I see him kick his pants off from my peripheral view. Right after, he takes my chin in his fingers and pulls my face to him.

My eyes land on his violet ones. I flinch when his hot hand finds the cool, bare skin on the side of my belly. His eyes flick down for a moment, "there is no shame in your beauty."

I release a sigh when he connects his lips to mine.

His hands find their way to my spine. I am slowly being pushed back. Before I fall, I bring my cold, clammy hands to his burning hot skin. He hisses because of this, and I pull my hands away in response. This is why my body crashes onto the bed prematurely. When he pulls away to reposition me, I squeak, "apologies, my prince."

As much as I wanted to examine his reaction to my words, I screw my eyes shut when I finally catch a glimpse of his naked form. My cold hands slap on both sides of my face.

He chuckles again as he pulls me up until my head is rested on the pillows by the headboard, "am I so grotesque to the eyes of a beauty?"

I open my mouth, hands ripping away from my eyes, though they remained closed, "No- I-" but my words end up as yet another squeak when Daemon grabs my legs and fold them up to my chest.

I slam my hands onto the bed, unable to do anything else as the prince continues to bubble out in chuckles as he maneuvers over me. One of his hands remain on my things, rubbing the area with much care, the other goes up to my chest and kneads on my exposed breast. I am anything but silent when I feel his manhood press against me on top of all this.

I feel his hand sink on the cushion beside my head. He presses a kiss on both my eyelids, "look at me, wife."

I slowly peel my eyes open and feel the vein on my neck tighten when he begins to rub himself against me. My hands claw up on his back. He again reacts with discomfort.

"I-"

He grabs my hand before I could pull away from him, my newly released leg dips because of this. "I will warm you soon enough," he says, pressing my cold hands back on his skin, "you can grip me as hard and as roughly as you like."

I do not reply for his lips press against mine.

In that very instant then, he lifts his hips and sheathes himself in me. I let out an unholy sound and my limbs constrict around him out of instinct. He himself draws out a prolonged groan, as I let out multiple high pitched whimpers and curses.

"So ready for me, wife," he moans, kissing my cheek, "such a good girl."

Again, I do not speak when he begins to rock into me back and forth. Only indistinguishable words leave my lips.

Daemon absolutely revels in the feeling, mind dizzy with the immaculate sounds echoing across the room. His body weight is delicious against mine, and whatever fear I may have had of being crushed is overpowered by a desire to crumble underneath him.

I find myself whining out his name at this point.

"That's right," he grunts, "let them know who's fucking you good."

I react to his obscenities by spreading my legs further. In that instant, I whine even louder as his newfound position hits an overly sensitive nub in me. My legs consequently tighten around him, entirely unwilling to let him go. Whatever concern I had about his hisses no longer phase me, even when I dig my nails into his back. It was all I could do as he pounded into me, relish the texture of his scarred skin and groan lewdly.

He speaks again in his foreign language, but I feel in my gut that he was singing me praises... but then again perhaps that was just his large co-

I start to scream when his pace quickens and his hand begins to rub on my aching core. My body arches against him, tears begin to build in the corner of my screwed eyes.

I pull even him closer to me with my desperate arms, mouth wide open as it finds the skin of his shoulder. My teeth instinctively bite down and lap at the salty surface. I graze my teeth up to his neck and it's there that I repeatedly call his name, over and over and over again, practically praying to him.

"I'm here," he hushes, both hands moving down to my thighs. I groan as he digs his fingers in and coos, "you're doing so good for me. So good."

I open my eyes upon hearing the praise. In that moment, as my voice hitches up and down at his ministrations, I move my face to look at him. Daemon presses his forehead on mine as we both breathe hotly against each other.

I succumb to this unknown desire to bite at his lip. The sound Daemon makes because of it makes my belly swirl up even more in its unreadable anticipation.

Curses leave his lips as his actions become more rugged, much quicker, and more wanton. I pull away from him, absolutely weak under his brute force.

The action coaxes out his name from my throat. He mutters mine against my ear and asks me to let go. He does so in such a sweet yet commanding way that even if I didn't want to, I would. I repeat his name a couple more times as I chase this high that is building and building, up until fire bursts all around me. All my tension explodes and I'm absolutely limp and boneless.

I'm basically just screaming like I'm mad at this point.

Daemon is roughly heaving atop of me, actions not ceasing just yet.

All at once, I feel him release a hotness inside of me. It makes me cry out yet again, only this time, I finally am aware of how helpless I sound.

"Good girl," Daemon mutters, movements growing sloppy though still not yet stopping. He peppers kisses on my neck as I quake and quiver. He repeats the praise the same way I am absentmindedly repeating his name.

When he finally relents, I regain some semblance of strength in my limbs and I begin to tighten my hold around him again, once more unwilling to let him go.

The chuckle that vibrates from his chest makes me whine and shiver. He revels in the sound, though he is halfheartedly apologetic because of how sharply I react.

At this point, his entire weight is now relaxed upon mine. I enjoy the heaviness and fullness of him. I snuggle my head against his, fingers digging into the roots of his hair. He remains atop me unmoving, content in our joint position.

My heavy eyelids rip open when he moves off me. I begin to wonder if he moves away because he did not like what I was doing. He stands for a moment then pulls at the blanket beneath me, bringing it over my body. It makes embarrassment shoot up around me. I tense when he climbs up next to me.

It seems he senses this as he rolls to his side, "are you not satisfied?"

I press my lips together, hands coming up to neck, legs pressing close against each other, "no, my prince, I- n- I mean- I enjoyed-"

His chuckle cuts me off. My breath hitches when he kisses my shoulder. I turn to him as he rolls on his chest, his hand lazily makes his way to my belly, "you'll learn to be more confident in your skin soon enough, darling."

As quickly as my heart soars at his sweet words, I feel so stupid when he draws his arm back and shifts to face to other way.

It's all so overwhelmingly confusing and heart shattering to me. I cannot help that suddenly tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I press my hands to my mouth, fighting back any cries from being heard.

Alternatively, Daemon suddenly remembers that not everyone wants to keep to themselves after a fuck. And so he turns over and speaks, "you can touch me if you-" but falters right after. His brows knit when he sees me roll over abruptly. The urgency of my movement was what gave me away.

Fuck.

"Have I upset you?"

I pull my hands away, cursing my very existence when my voice breaks out with a shaky, "no."

Daemon shifts, lying on his back with wide eyes, trying to recount just how he managed to fuck up so quickly when moments ago he was receiving such high praises.

"Do you not want to touch me?" I quietly mutter.

I feel so pathetic after asking it when I receive no response.

I am shocked when I do hear a retort, "I did not think you wanted to."

I quickly turn to him, absolutely desperate, "I want to!"

Daemon's chest tightens when he sees what he does.

He rolls to his side again and brings his hands to my face, wiping my tears with his thumb. He then pulls me into his chest, arm going around me, "don't cry, sweet girl." He presses a kiss on my head, "this will not happen again."

"It better fucking not," I whine helplessly, my own arms going around him. Daemon is as surprised as I am with my words, but I decide not to apologize for them when he presses another kiss on me.

The next day, when my eyes flutter open, I take in the sound of breathing and a heart beat against my ear. It seems I shifted in my sleep as now my head was rested by the crook of my husband's neck, chest pressed against his. His arm was around my shoulder.

I lift my eyes and take in his features, only now allowing myself to admit that he was stunning. He was stunning and mine, my husband. My hands reach up to retrace his jaw and nose. My face begins to heat up as I the image of him last night plays in my head.

I chuckle to myself but then I bite my lower lip quickly, as not to wake the sleeping being with my noise.

My hands find their way to his chest where I then begin to draw delicate lines that form nothing. I rip my hand away when I suddenly hear a slamming at the door. I begin to panic and pull the sheets up around me as I hear a voice I could vaguely recognize call out to me and Daemon.

I am completely frazzled, absolutely unsure of what to do.

I look between the door and Daemon, deciding I should not risk letting anyone see us naked. I sit up quickly and call out hesitantly, unwilling to wake my husband with my voice, "just a moment."

There is another bang on the door, and so next time I speak, it is not as timid and much more annoyed, "just a moment!"

I sigh, deciding to get out of bed. I do not manage to however, as suddenly, a hand is on my arm, holding me back. Daemon's eyes barely blink open, and yet his voice is loud and angry as he yells, "Fuck off!"

I flinch at the intensity of his voice that continues to warn, "come back in a hour, unless you want to lose your head."

In that instant, I give him a nervous expression. He pulls his hand away to rub his fingers on his eyelids and groan. When he finds my gaze again, he moves to caress my skin with the back of his hand.

I lick my lips nervously, "good morning, husband."

He smiles, "good morning, wife."

I clear my throat, "that was my handmaiden," I trail off, "she was probably tasked by my father-"

"Do you want me to kill him?"

My mouth remains parted.

Daemon grunts, shifting to lift his head up slightly, "you said the fucker was a cruel monster," he glides his hand up and down on my back, but quicker this time, "you are mine now; you have no use of him. Say the word and I will make him food for Caraxes."

"I..." I turn away, "I do not want his blood to dirty your hands."

Daemon smiles. He breaks into a laugh as he sits up. I look back at him after he presses a kiss on my shoulder, "I would gladly bloody my hands for you."

I turn to my hands, feeling my cheeks heat up at his words. I pick at my nails and remember his words from last night, "... am I with child now?"

He laughs, so loudly that I turn to him in shock. He pulls me against him, muttering words in a language I still don't understand. His hands travel down my sides, "we can try again in case you aren't."

#daemon targaryen #daemon fanfic #daemon smut #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #daemon x you #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x you #hotd smut #house of the dragon smut

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hoffmans-trophywife · 6 months

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Adam Stanheight x reader? Like how Lawrence describes his daughter & wife, have Adam describe his relationship with the reader.

Hope you like it, anon! <3

Best Thing In My Life | Adam Faulkner-Stanheight x Reader

Summary: You carry Adam's baby and the position of the best thing in his life

The time in that bathroom seemed like it would never end, Lawrence and Adam were still trying to understand what they should do to get out of that trap without physical harm. They had already understood that they needed to cut off their own leg that was trapped in chains, but where would they get the courage to do something like that? Lawrence looked at the photo of his family tied up there, helpless, not knowing what he could do to help Alison and their daughter.

“I feel horrible that i can’t help them. Alison and Diana are everything to me. I know i made a mistake cheating on Alison, but i love her since we met years ago. She is the woman of my life.”

The doctor lamented, he didn't even have enough water in his body to shed tears.

“I wonder if they did something to Y/n like they did to them.”

Adam said leaning against the wall, inside he was in pure despair, but he tried to hide it as much as possible, he didn't want to appear weak, no matter how weak he was.

“Y/n? Your relative?”

He asked.

“Something more than that. She is the best thing in my life. Is my girlfriend. I don’t think they would have the courage to do anything to her.”

“If they did something to a child like mine, why wouldn’t they do it to your girlfriend?”

Lawrence asked and Adam ignored his rude question.

“She is not alone. She's pregnant, carrying my baby. I was dedicating myself so much to photography to support both of us and him or her.”

Adam ran his hand over his face, starting to cry. Lawrence was silent for a few seconds before sighing, he was a little shocked now, Adam is gonna be a dad, just like him. If they were close to each other, they would definitely have hugged each other at that moment.

"I'm so sorry."

“I... She was the best thing that ever happened to me. I was bullied a lot in high school for being introverted, she was a new student, in the first week without even knowing me she helped me and stopped them from hitting me. She started hanging out with me and even though she was teased for being pretty and hanging out with a "weirdo" like me, she never stopped. After that i started to look at her like the wonder woman of my dreams, we've been together for 7 years and counting, in fact i was planning to surprise her and ask her to marry me, until i ended up here. She probably came home and saw everything set up, but she didn't saw me there. ”

He explained with a sad face.

"Don't worry. We’re going to get out of here and you’re going to see her again. I want to see my family too. Alison and i are not what we used to be, but i know she still loves me as much as i love her, the feeling may have cooled, but our love for Diana can overcome everything. My little girl is such a miracle in our life, she is so smart and curious. Just like her mother when was a teenager. I'm so proud of my baby”

Gordon said smiling, Adam started running his hands through his jeans looking for something, until he took a photo out of one of the pockets and showed it to Lawrence.

“Look look, at least he didn’t take that from me.”

Lawrence couldn't deny it, she really was very beautiful and had a magical smile that could easily charm anyone who passed by her. The photo showed her and Adam together holding a pregnancy test in one hand and a photograph of an ultrasound in the other hand, smiling extremely happily as a couple in love should be.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she? She is the love of my life, she is everything to me, she is the thing i am most grateful for having in my life. My family never supported me in being a photographer, unlike her who always helped me despite all the judgments. Being with her every day makes me happier and warms my heart, it's like im in paradise and she's my goddess. ”

Adam said smiling silly caressing the photo, the blonde laughed.

"Do not laugh. Lawrence, im really scared i'll never leave here and i won’t be able to see her again.” He admitted, frustrated.

"Ok ok, we going to get out of here, we’re going to find a way to do this, you’re going to find your wife, even if i leave first and come back for you.”

"You promise?"

“I promise you, Adam.”

Final note: please, reblog if you liked! 💖

#imagines #fanfic #saw #saw x reader #slasher #horror #adam faulkner stanheight #adam stanheight x reader #adam faulkner stanheight x reader #adam faulkner x reader

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nanaloveswo-men · 1 year

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Can u write one for ramos where he comes home after a long day and his wife just comforts him and they just like stay in bed cuddling JSHCJFHUWCISJJDH IDEK WHAT IM ASKING THIS IS THE FIRST TIME IVE ASKED FOR A REQUEST 😭😭

handsome man - sergio ramos

pairing: husband sergio ramos x fem!wife!reader

summary: after a long day at work, sergio was finally at home, only wanting his sweet wife company.

warnings: fluffy and a little suggestive, nothing explicit

author notes: I WAS WAITING FOR THIS. THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH FOR THIS REQUEST. I LOVE RAMOS

word count: 1,1k

“i only like to be sweet with you”

Paris was rainy, the sky almost as gray as the color itself. You didn’t have any work, because for some miracle, your boss had given you a couple of days off, so of course you were enjoying your little vacation, in the best way best possible.

You were peacefully laying in bed, watching the new season of your favorite netflix series, almost sleeping in the pillow-nest you had made. Now, the tv noises were nothing more than a background sound for your sleepy mind.

The hours passed flying, and you didn’t even notice when your husband had finally arrived at home, his car brutally parking in your house’s carage.

Sergio was mad, unfortunely, his day was horrible, from the beggining of the day, when he had woken up without you by his side, to the rest of it, when everyone on the psg team were seeing to be trying to get the fuck out of him.

He was stressed. The only thing Ramos needed now, was to have you, his wife, in his arms.

He entered the house, and the first thing he noticed, was the silence. Usually, when he came to home, you were always waiting for him with a sweet smile.”That’s weird” he said to himself looking around.

When he didn’t find you anywhere, Sergio went to you guys bedroom, hoping that he could see you there. Ramos opened the door, and a smile quickly grew into his face when he saw your sleep figure laying in bed. The tv was turned on, your series still going through, and Sergio was quick to pause it, so you wouldn’t miss any part.

Ramos decided to take a shower before going to bed, because he didn’t want to be next to you when he was covered in sweat. Before entering the bathroom, he came closer to you, letting a kiss on the side of your mouth.

You woke up with the sound of the shower on, your sleepy mind taking some time before realsing that Sergio was already at home. You streched your arms and back before getting out of bed, heading straigh to the bathroom.

“Honey?” you called for him knocking on the door.

Not even a minute after, the door was open, and a half naked Sergio was showed to you. He was still a little wet, and you presumed that he had only put his boxer on before opening the door.

“Hey babe, what is in your mind?” Ramos asked when he noticed your silence “Nothing, only thinking about you” you answered hugging him, not even caring about his wet body.

“Missed you the whole day, love” he mumbled next to the top of your head. “Sorry, I didn’t heard when you arrived” you excused yourself “But you should have woken me up”.

You looked right into his eyes, but Sergio was already staring at you.

“Nah, you were so pretty sleeping, I couldn’t do that to your cute ass” he said smiling. “But i wanted to shower with you” you puckered your lips “Sorry babe, I didn’t know about your horn intentions” he kissed your mouth.

You tried to get out of his embrance, to defend yourself from his accusation, but Sergio didn’t let you go, so you started to laugh.

“I didn’t have any intention! Let me be free!” he was holding you tightly. “No, I had an awful day, and now I really need my wife to comfort me”.

“I don’t think that I want to comfort you” you teased him “Oh no, I really think you want to” he said with a smirk.

You two shared a sweet kiss, your husband’s hands carissing your cheeks with love.

“Being with a bunch of men the whole day made me miss you more than ever” he said when you stopped the kiss “Everyday you say this” you smirked “Because everyday i only miss you more and more” he pecked your whole face.

The room was filled with both of your laughs, you two walking in the bed direction, still in a tight hug.

“You’re such a pain in the ass Sergio” you said when he was finally laying on top of you.

Ramos took adventage of the position you two were in, putting his head on your chest and passing his arms around your body. You couldn’t do many things with Sergio’s body on top of yours, so you were happy to just run your fingers through his hair.

“Bad day?” you whispered. “Yeah, also a long one” he said back.

Both of you stayed in silence for a moment, just cuddling and enjoying the presence of each other. You were looking at your husband’s face, admiring how handsome he was.

Sometimes, you would caught yourself thinking about how luck you were for having such an incredible husband like Sergio, but what you didn’t know, was that very often, Ramos would think the same, how someone like him, could have such a perfect wife. In the end, both of you were simple in love.

“You are so handsome my love” you said with your eyes shining “That’s funny, because I was thinking the same of you” he looked right at you.

You couldn’t help but smile, in all those years you were with Ramos, he had always treated you with nothing but love and kindness.

“I wonder what people would think if they saw you like says” you hummed “Like what?” he asked resting his face in the corner of your neck.

“Like a baby” Sergio pinched the side of your waist “Wait! Let me explain!” you giggled with his actions. “I’m listening, but you should be careful with your words, love” he teased.

“Well, everyone is used to see you like a beast on the shields, but they don’t know that you are actually a sweet boy” you tried to explain without smiling. “Oh shut up, i have to scare my enimies” he tried to defend himself “And i like to be know as a beast” he said proud.

“I only like to be sweet with you”

“C’mon babe, you are so cute!” you said almost dying from happiness. You got his head with you hands, pecking his whole face with a bunch of kisses. “I love you so much!”

“I love you too honey” he answer smiling at you.

You went back to the same position you were, with Sergio on top of you, his head on your chest, and now, your hands were carissing not only his hair, but his also his face and neck.

After a long and stressful day, Ramos was finally in a good mode, nothing could be better than his wife company.

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