#collab fic

[schemmentis]

La Cosa Nostra - Pt. 6

Cowritten w/ @janeyseymour

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Summary: The Feds search Melissa's restaurant and question her. Meanwhile, you consider your options...

WC: 4k

When the girls are waking you a few hours later for breakfast; you're not much better. The extra hours of sleep have made you not a zombie but you can feel that your tank is near empty- that one more thing might just be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. You only hope it isn’t something the girls do that makes you boil over. It takes almost everything you have to get them fed, dressed, and actually to school. What keeps you going is the thought of your wife with agents tearing apart her beloved business and the tiny little hugs your twins give you when you say goodbye that are as tight as their little arms can make. 

A few minutes drive takes you from the school to your wife’s restaurant. You still see Agent Shaw’s car in the parking lot as you pull in next to Sammy’s.

You see Melissa sat on the curb outside the entrance with a cigarette held between her forefingers as her elbow props on her knee. You should feel surprise. She stopped smoking when you started trying to get pregnant, both in solidarity with you and in an effort to improve her health for the kids you were hoping for. Now though, after the last few days, you're not surprised in the slightest. A stress cigarette has always been her one vice.

You exit the car, walking to the curb and sitting next to your wife. Wordlessly, she offers you the cigarette. You take it, taking a drag yourself before handing it back as you exhale the smoke. 

“It's a goddamn mess,” Melissa finally says. “And they're still lookin’. For what, I don't know.”

You lean into your wife’s side, an arm wrapping around her shoulders and your hand gently shifting through the red locks you can reach. “We’ll fix it,” You murmur. You hope you’re telling her the truth.

Melissa hums around the next drag from the cigarette. You will. She knows you both will set it right when they finally decide they're done. It doesn't make it better though. This shouldn't even be happening, but it is. 

You kiss her temple, inhaling the familiar scent of your wife’s perfume mixed with the cigarette smoke. It reminds you of when you first met. She had met you in a dark alley, and the first thing that you noticed about her was her striking green eyes- ones that knew exactly what they wanted. The second thing you noticed was the near intoxicating scent that you’ve only fallen further in love with as the years have gone by.

“I love you,” You whisper. You hate it, but it's the most you can offer her right now- the one thing you have that is unwavering and unchanging. 

“Ti amo, mi amore,” Melissa whispers back as she takes another drag of the cigarette. 

Her eyes flit up to yours, searching for any sort of comfort you can provide. Then they gaze over at the restaurant. She can see that everything is out of order. The chairs are strewn about at random, the booths have been moved and the agents have ripped up the painted walls in their haste to try to find something- anything. The front desk is a mess, menus everywhere and not in the designated holder. Decorations have been ripped off the wall and thrown carelessly, some ruined. And that’s only what she can see. Your wife doesn’t even want to know what they’ve done to the back- her beloved kitchen where everything has its right place. 

“My god,” Melissa puts her head in her hands, and you have to quickly remove the still burning cigarette from her clutch to prevent her from catching herself on fire. “My restaurant...” and then she’s mumbling expletives in Italian. When she’s run out of curse words to be said in Italian, she switches to Irish. Then she switches to English. 

“My love,” you sigh as you pull her impossibly closer- she’s nearly on your lap. “They aren’t going to find anything, because there is nothing to find.”

“I don’t even care about that,” Melissa whines into her hands. When she lifts her head, you see the tears in her eyes. “They trashed my restaurant, they’re going to take half of my shit, it’s not going to look the same, and I’m losing at least half a day’s worth of customers because of this! And then when people realize that we had to close for lunch because we were being searched, we’re only going to lose more business! I- I don’t even know what to do right now, Y/N.”

“We’ll put it all back together,” you promise her. “I’ll make some calls and have the family come down to help us put it back together, and we’ll get good business. We’ll make it all work, mo ghrá. I promise you, it will all be alright.”

“I just can’t believe this,” the redhead wipes at her tears harshly. She stuffs her hand into her jacket pocket, only to pull out another cigarette. She lights it and inhales deeply.

You pluck it from her hands. “Mel, smoking is not the solution right now. We can’t have you getting addicted again.”

“This is the one thing I can do,” your wife takes it back from you and takes another drag. “If you’re worried about the girls finding out, I’ll make sure I shower before I see them next.”

“What does that mean, love?”

“It means,” Melissa groans as she gestures in the general direction of where Danik and Shaw are now emerging from. “That if the way they’re walking over here is any indication, I’m about to be taken down to the station for a shit ton of questioning, and you’re going to be on mam duty today. Who knows what time I’ll be home.”

“They have no reason to take you in for questioning,” you try to tell her. “They found nothing.”

“They have every reason to take me in for questioning when we’re married,” she sighs as she stands.

“Melissa Schemmenti, we need you to come down to the station to help clear up a few things we found in your restaurant,” Danik states.

“Youse didn’t find nothin’,” Sammy rolls his eyes. “There is no need to question this poor, innocent family any further!”

Your wife sighs though as she stands from her place on the curb. “If youse want to interrogate me over nothin’, be my guest.”

“Honey,” you breathe out as you stand as well.

“Just get my restaurant back together before we have to open up for dinner, and please... tell the girls I’m sorry I couldn’t come pick them up today and that I love them,” Melissa tells you as she walks off with the officers. 

You watch Mel slip into the back of the car. You don’t move as you watch the car pull off down the street once it turns out of the parking lot. You come back to yourself as Sammy’s hand lands on your shoulder. 

“They got nothin’, kid.” He says, for what feels like the thousandth time.

You shake his hand from your shoulder, shooting him a glare. “Shouldn’t you be in your fancy ass car speeding to the station to protect my wife’s legal rights?” You say through your teeth, stepping past Sammy.

You don’t bother looking to see that he does get in his car and leave. You know he will. If not he’ll be having to answer to a lot worse than just you and your anger.

You step into the restaurant, sighing as you glance around. Melissa’s dream, torn to pieces without hesitation. Your hands curl into fists. You force them to uncurl and recurl, taking deep breaths in attempts to soothe yourself. You aren’t sure that it works- the only thing that would soothe you is if your wife was by your side and here to tell you that it’s all going to be okay despite her not knowing if that sentiment is true. This is what you didn’t want- Melissa and the things she loves upheaved, the things she dreamed and worked hard for. Sure, the salon and the front made it possible, but the success? That’s real. Melissa worked her ass off for this restaurant because she loved it and had a passion for it all. Now what was there to show for it? The place looked like it had been robbed blind and flipped.

You fish your phone from your pocket, dialing a number before placing it to your ear. You wish Mickey was out. You’d rather have called him. Instead, you’re cringing just a little when Mel’s cousin Vinny answers his phone. “Hey, you busy?” You ask instead of answering his question of how you’re doing.

You nod, silently willing him to hurry along as he chats around the simple yes or no question. “Can you grab Rocco and some of the other guys, bring ‘em down to Mel’s restaurant?”

This makes Vinny’s chatty nature stop suddenly. “Why? What’s goin’ on, Y/N?”

You sigh. Apparently news hadn’t reached this end of the family yet. The last thing you wanted to do was spread it further, make even more people jumpy over all this. You don’t have much choice though. “The Feds did a search warrant on the restaurant today. Mel’s at the station right now… I need some help putting it back together. They really did a number on it.”

You check your watch as Vinny agrees to gather who he can and be down as soon as possible to help. You still have a couple hours before the girls are out of school. Hopefully you can get things put together by then. You don’t want to have to ask your mother-in-law to pick them up again Though you know she’d hardly say no. Still, you’d like to minimize just how much she knows things are turning wrong if possible.

It breaks your heart more with each piece of the restaurant you pick up. Another little bit of your wife’s effort and care torn apart by the search. Still, you pick your way through what you can. By the time Vinny and some of the other men arrive you’re grateful there’s extra hands. It’s too much on your own, especially paired with your emotions. You’re half a second away from breaking something worse with the frustration you have building. 

You help Vinny and the others until you have to pick up the girls. On the drive to the school, you make up your mind. You take them to your own mother’s house, the both of them excited to see their Nan. They don’t see your side quite as often as Melissa’s, with them living on the edge of the city. Still, today, the extra drive is worth it. It helps that you get to see your own mother too, reveling in her warm hug and kiss that’s planted to your own cheek as you drop the girls with her. You promise you’ll be back to pick them up by seven before you kiss each pair of chubby cheeks and hug them tight before you set back on the road again.

You briefly stop back at the restaurant. Your worry is a slight assuaged when you return to find Valentina helping direct putting things back together. It looks like they should be finished in time to open back up for dinner. You thank her yourself and make a mental note to tell Melissa she doesn’t pay her enough.

When you’re back in the car once more, you dial Sammy. Repeatedly. You know he’s still in the interrogation room with Mel. You dial until he finally calls you back before you can call him again. By then, you’re almost to the station yourself.

“Christ, Y/N, what is it? I’m tryna help your wife here and you’re blowin’ up my phone so much she’s lookin’ at me like she’s gonna kill me herself, nevermind the damn Feds.”

“I’m pulling into the station now, I need you to meet me outside.” You say and hang up before Sammy can say anything else.

In a matter of moments, he’s stepping out of the door and throwing his hands up at you in exasperation. “What the hell is goin’ on, huh?” He spits as you step to meet him on the sidewalk.

“You’re the lawyer, I need legal advice.” You say with a shrug.

“Now? Right now? When I’m tryna help your wife get home tonight, huh?” Sammy crosses his arms firmly across his chest.

“I’m tryna speed that process up myself, Sammy.” You retort. “What are the chances they keep Mel outta this? From here on, her and the restaurant?”

Sammy looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Basically nothin’, Y/N. They might not have found shit but they’re convinced, and they’re gunning. She’s as tied in as you are. You know that, though. So what’s the real question?”

“How long would I get if I copped to the money launderin’?” you ask seriously.

“What?” Sammy’s arms fall slack to his sides. Now, he looks at you like you’re absolutely insane. Maybe you are.

“I don’t got time for the ‘what are ya crazy, why would ya wanna do that’ talk, Sammy,” you roll your eyes. “Turn on the lawyer's brain, yeah? How long would I be lookin’ at?”

“The least you’d be looking at is ten years. The most…’round twenty. Plus whatever they wanted to fine for it…could be as much as doublin’ what they can prove you laundered. With you comin’ forward, we could probably get a plea, bring it down, but not by much.”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “If I did, though, it’d be over wouldn’t it? They’d be off everybody’s backs?”

“They’d still be lookin’ for who killed Bobby…but things- they’d be mostly back to normal. Mostly. You know your girl in there would tear me to shreds if I even considered lettin’ you do this, yeah?”

“They tore her restaurant apart, Sammy. They’re tearin’ our whole damn life apart, ‘cause of me,” you sigh.

“It ain’t just because of you,” he tells you. “Sure, you took the business from Bobby, but you an’ I both know you would never kill him. You’d never order a hit; you don’t got it in you. Hell, you couldn’t hurt a fly- I’ve seen the way you rescue those damned stink bugs when they get into your house.”

“I took the business from Bobby. I get why they think I had something to do with it and are confused with how the business is doin’ so well,” you sigh as you scratch the back of your head. “But I- At the end of the day, this falls back on me, and Melissa shouldn’t have to pay for it.”

“Yeah, so your big brained solution is to lock yourself up, huh? Away from ya wife, ya kids. You really think that’s gonna make her feel better? That she ain’t gonna pay for it if you’re put away for years.”

“I think she’d understand…eventually,” you shrug. 

Sammy laughs, outright. “You sure you’re the one married to Melissa Schemmenti? ‘Cause the whole damn neighborhood knows what you just said ain’t true. You’d be sooner lookin’ at your own divorce papers.”

You shrug. “At least they’d be left alone.”

“You’re really willin’ to throw yourself into prison for all this? Think about everything you’re gonna be missin’ if you go to prison. Melissa will divorce you, you’ll miss your girls growing up- miss milestones that you won’t be able to get back.”

Your eyes go hazy for a few seconds as you see your life flash before your eyes- past, present, and future. You see your girls celebrating birthdays by themselves, or at the prison to visit you. You see them potentially graduating high school and Melissa potentially sending them off to college on her own if you get locked up for long enough. You see the way that the girls change once your presence is no longer there. You see things you don’t want to happen. You see them throwing their lives down the drain because you aren’t there to show them the love that they crave and need. They end up in the same shoes you’re in now. And you- you hesitate in your decision to throw yourself under the bus enough that you really are unsure of what is the right thing to do in this impossible scenario. 

“I don’t know what else to do, Sammy,” you whisper, and you hate the way your voice cracks and your eyes well with tears. You hate that all of this is wearing you down to the point that you don’t see a way out and you’re about ready to break. You hate that you can’t run in there and cling to your wife like your life depends on it, the way you want to. You hate every single thing about this situation. 

“The only thing that you can and should do right now is let me go in there and do my thing for Mel, because they really don’t have shit on her this time,” Sammy tells you sternly. “Go home, spend time with your girls, and I’ll handle everything with Melissa.”

“You fuckin’ better,” you warn. “My wife has nothing to do with this side of the business, and I ain’t lettin’ no one take away her dream. She’s worked too damn hard for this. And when you have her side of all of this squared away, you better get your ass ready to sue the fuckers for all of the damage they caused at the restaurant- place is fuckin’ torn to hell.”

You turn back to your car, climb in, and speed off. Sammy shakes his head- he hopes you don’t go over him and get yourself into more trouble before he walks back into the precinct to finish off this interrogation that Melissa is dealing with.

“My restaurant is not a front!” Melissa shouts for the seventh time. “I mean, really! There are so many other places that don’t bring in half of what I do, a quarter even! If Twelve Tables really was a front, do you think I would’ve put my whole fuckin’ life into it?!”

The agents just look at each other. They’ve found what really gets your wife to tick. Insult her restaurant, and she gets feisty. “That’s what you want us to think, isn’t it?”

“You just tore apart my wife’s salon, our home, searched our cars, and practically destroyed my God damned restaurant! You didn’t find fucking shit! Get off of our fuckin’ backs!” Melissa slams her fist- the one that still has bandages on it from the knife incident-  on the table. It’s a decision that she immediately regrets as her hand starts to throb. 

“If you don’t have any evidence on my client,” Sammy says quietly. “I think it’s time we head out. There’s nothing you have to legally hold her here.”

“Damn right,” Melissa huffs as she stands and straightens her shirt out. “Don’t fucking come back to my restaurant.” She grabs her purse and storms out of the station. The lawyer is hot on her heels.

“Melissa,” he shouts as he tries to catch up with her.

“What?! I need to get back to my wife and kids!” She dares him to stop her.

“I’m just trying to tell you that I’ll drive you home,” Sammy rolls his eyes as he falls into step with her. That gets a bit of your wife’s fire to die down, and she allows him to lead her to the shiny Mercedes in the parking lot

You call your mother, asking if she minds keeping the twins for the night. Of course, she doesn’t. It really is impossible to say no to those tiny faces. Especially if they’re clinging to her and singing a made up song about staying at Nan’s when she asks if they want to have a sleepover.

You miss them. Despite seeing them every day, it’s been awhile since you got quality time with your little family. Even before all this mess started, you were working extra and lucky if you got to read the twins a bedtime story or even just say goodnight. More often than not, you would have to settle for kissing their sleeping heads and whispering how you loved them, hoping their subconsciouses at least picked it up. 

Your wife, you’ve seen a bit more of. Usually, she’s awake when you do get home. She isn’t able to sleep well when you’re not. Not with the life you’re both in. You might be on the safer side of it but it doesn’t mean danger isn’t always around the corner. All it takes is one mistake and you could be targeted how Bobby was. You both know that. 

Even so, you still haven’t spent much time together. It all boiled down to recapping your days while both fighting sleep. If that. Maybe a night just the two of you is what you need in the midst of all this.

It won’t go away, you know that, but maybe a night with your wife will make it feel more like it’s possible to get through it all. Like fighting is worth it. As you walk back into your home; you don’t quite feel like it is. Not with the amount of pressure it’s putting on Melissa. You’ve seen it grow with each day, just as you’ve felt it grow on you. Except, the pressure you feel on you isn’t what bothers you. You’d gladly put up with it if it meant your wife and the rest of your family felt nothing at all. 

You mindlessly set about making dinner. It isn’t often you can convince your wife to let you make it instead of her. At best, you usually can convince her to let you help. You hope they won’t keep her at the station, going around in circles, for much longer. You hope it will be warm when she gets home and does not need to be reheated. The less for your wife to worry about, the better.

You’re just finishing cooking when the front door slams. If it were a normal day, you’d be concerned about who is coming in and slamming the door. Except it hasn’t been a normal day for a few days. You know it’s your wife- the knowledge confirmed by the Italian you can hear muttered as she pulls her shoes off at the door.

By the time Melissa makes it to the kitchen doorway, you meet her there with a glass of wine held out in offering. She softens when she sees you and the wine. She takes the glass from you with a quiet thank you. The rest of what anger your wife is holding out dissipates as she realizes you made dinner when you set her plate in front of her just as she all but falls into a chair at the table.

“Where are the girls?” Melissa asks you softly as she takes a bite of the Irish dish you made tonight.

“With my mom,” you tell her quietly. “I figured the two of us could use the night, just me and you, and then tomorrow is a full day dedicated to them.”

“I can manage that,” your wife tells you with a soft smile- really the first smile you’ve seen out of her all day. “I have to stop by the restaurant to make sure that everything is in order for the Saturday rushes, but-”

“Everything should be in order,” you promise her. “I had Vin and some of the guys come down and help me put Twelve Tables back together as much as we could. Val was instructing them... we really don’t pay her enough.”

“I know,” the redhead sighs out. “But with the financial trouble we’re potentially in, I don’t have the room to give her a raise right now.”

“When we’re out of this mess then,” you tell her as you set a hand over her own, your thumb brushing across her knuckles.

The two of you spend Friday night cleaning the house over glasses of wine, content to put everything from the past couple days out of your head even if just for a few hours. It’s warm, it’s soft... it’s the easy domestic life that you wish the two of you had all the time.

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary fanfiction #la cosa nostra #collab fic

[crazy-ache]

Dear Lucien, Dear Elain: An Epistolary Fic (Installment I Update)

Title: Dear Lucien, Dear Elain: An Epistolary Fic (Installment I - Chapters I, II, III) Rating: M Summary:

“Perhaps you can speak them to me, if you so wish. I apologize if that is too forward, but I yearn to know you beyond simple pleasantries. 

Yours truly,

Lucien

P.S. My lady, your secrets are always safe with me.” 

Epistolary (adj., of a literary work) in the form of letters. After the winter solstice in ACOSF, Elain and Lucien exchange letters as a means to get to know each other away from prying eyes. This fic is a collection of those letters.

Author’s Note: HERE WE GO! This fic was written between me (crazy-ache) and @zenkindoflove. We each selected a character (you’ll have to guess who though) and then wrote back and forth, pen-pal style. The first installment is now posted! We hope you enjoy our passion project.

READ HERE ON AO3

Tag List: @sunkissedgrrrrl | @shardminds | @works-of-heart | @the-darkestminds | @emmers-bens123 | @lmadness | @sweetnslyth | @rarephloxes | @fox-in-flowers | @lectoradefics | @goldenmagnolias | @addicted-to-nothing | @popjunkie42 | @bakananya | @theseeingfawn | @scrawlandspirits | @animezinglife | @fuckyeselucien | @lucienarcheron | @mr-agent-mulder | @teddyhoneybear | @goghwilde | @starsreminisce | @bibliophiliaxvignette | @dreamingthroughthenoise | @olenvasynyt | @acourtofthought

If you'd like to be added or removed just let us know!

#elucien #elain x lucien #elain and lucien #elucien fic #elucien fanfic #elucien letters #pro elucien #elucien supremacy #sexy pen pal vibes #regency vibes #epistolary fanfic #elucien moodboard #collab fic #part 1 is live #we hope you enjoy! #elain archeron #lucien vanserra

[horanghaejamjam]

Hallows Eve - {CS}

↪ Summary: Your friends trick you into doing a Halloween ritual that’s supposed to summon a demon. You never believed in demons but do it anyway just to please them. Needless to say you didn’t expect it to work, nor did you expect yourself to end up trapped in the underworld by a demon wishing to claim you as his.

↪ Pairings: Demon prince San x Female presenting reader

↪   Rating: M 18+

↪   Genre: Fluff/Smut/Demon Au/Arranged Marriage/S2L

↪   Word Count: 3.8k

↪ Warnings/Contents: Smut (MDNI), Hard dom/possessive San, Power dynamics (Use of "sir" and "brat"), corruption, unprotected sex marking/biting, multiple orgasms, and body worship, aftercare and San being super soft at the end.

↪ Side Notes: PLEASE READ: This is a collab fic with @kpopidolsangel and is also a submission for the @atinyhalloweenproject this one is for the lovely @kpop-stories-21

Angel came up with the concept as well as made the banner and wrote the first half of this fic. However due to a family emergency she was unable to finish it and asked me to take over the story. All credit to the idea goes to her. I also apologize for the delay on this one and I hope it was worth the wait!

↪ Click here to see my other Ateez stories

↪ Click here for other kpop masterlists

↪ Click here to join my fic taglist

There is a common legend that makes its way through your town every October. The legend goes that if you go into the woods at midnight, light a jack-o'-lantern, and recite an ancient poem, that you can summon a deity known as The Demon of the Hallows. The legend then states that anyone who summons him with a kind spirit will be blessed with a special gift, but those without a kind spirit would never be heard from again. You wouldn’t call yourself a skeptic or anything but you were never one to humor the legend. It was something you brushed off as a dumb story high school kids used to scare their friends or younger siblings. Needless to say, never in a million years did you expect to find yourself standing in the middle of the woods with a poorly carved jack-o'-lantern and a lighter. Your friends were hiding behind the trees a few feet away from you, not wanting to take any chances in case this ritual did end up working. 

This had all started during a Halloween party you were attending with your friends. Yunho had been the one to bring up the legend to which Mingi and Wooyoung had insisted that you try it, just to see what would happen. They agreed you had to be the one to do it since you were the most “normal” out of the friend group and before you knew it you were being dragged out of the party and into the woods, Wooyoung stealing one of the carved pumpkins from the porch so you could complete the ritual. 

It was completely dark out, with the moon being the only source of light, barely allowing you to make out the shadows of your friends from where you stood. Your rather thin vampire costume doing very little to shield you from the cold fall breeze, and you didn’t bring a jacket as you hadn’t planned on going outside. Your dress fluttered in the wind and tickled at your legs as you shivered and rubbed at your arm to try and stay warm. 

“This is ridiculous!” you called back, “can’t we just go home, it’s freezing out here!” 

“What’s the matter?” you heard Wooyoung call back to you, “are you scared it will work?”

“I’m not scared of a demon, I'm scared of freezing to death!” you argued back which caused the boys to laugh. 

“You’re so dramatic!” Yunho teased. 

“We only have two minutes until midnight, just do it!” Mingi added. You really wanted to just leave them there and run back to the house, but you knew you would never hear the end of it if you did. 

“You guys are so dead once this is over,” you groaned, setting the pumpkin down on the ground and waiting for the cue to start. Once Wooyoung gave you the go ahead you quickly lit the candle inside the pumpkin and recited the poem as best as you could remember it. The light from the candle flickered in the wind as you waited a moment to see if anything would happen. As expected, nothing did and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes as you stood up and dusted yourself off. “I told you guys it wouldn’t work, can we go now?” you called out, only to be met with silence. “Guys?” you tried looking around but you could no longer see the shadows of your friends. You knew they couldn’t have left that quickly without you hearing or seeing them, so your first instinct was that they were hiding from you just to scare you. “Really funny, come on guys I want to go back,” you said, walking over to the tree only to realize there was no one there. The woods fell eerily silent as you began to panic, calling out for your friends and looking around only to find that no one was there, you were completely alone. 

“Why so scared little one?” you quickly turned around to see a figure standing in front of the jack-o'-lantern where you had just been. He stood just a bit taller than you, with wide shoulders and a slim but toned waist. His hair was long, mostly black but you could see white peeking out at the bottom, the strands perfectly slicked back behind two black ram-like horns. He was wearing a black suit with red trim and gold embellishments that matched the gold headpiece he was wearing. Tucked behind him you could just make out the outline of batlike wings, resting against his shoulders. His eyes were sharp as he looked at you, and when you moved closer you could see the red color and cat-like pupil, the charcoal style makeup he was wearing only served to help accentuate his features. If you weren’t intimidated by his presence, you would have found him to be insanely beautiful. 

“I-who are you?” you stuttered out as you walked over to him, causing him to chuckle. 

“You are the one who called me here and yet you don’t know who I am?” he questioned, clearly amused by the situation. You, on the other hand, were terrified as you struggled to form a proper sentence. 

“Wait so you are The Demon of the Hallows? I didn’t think you were real!” you confessed. 

“That’s the name people gave me over the years, but I find that title much too formal,” he mused, “call me San.” You blinked at him in confusion as he moved closer until he was only a foot or so in front of you, smirking to himself as he took a moment to look over you. “You really didn’t believe in me did you? Poor thing, I can sense your confusion from miles away,” he cooed with another laugh, “let me guess you were tricked into doing this weren’t you? Your friends dragged you out here then ran away at the first sign of danger?” Your eyes widened at his observation, staring down at the ground while you played with the hem of your dress. 

“How did you know that?”

“My Sweet Y/N I’ve ruled over these parts for centuries, I know everything. Also you wouldn’t be the first pure soul to find yourself in this predicament,” he explained, reaching a hand out to brush your hair out of your face. You flinched slightly from the sudden contact, but you couldn't deny there was a strange warmth behind his touch, a welcome sensation that nearly had you leaning against his hand as he pulled away. “I must say,” he confessed, “of everyone who has called upon me, you are definitely the most beautiful, and the most innocent. You are exactly what I have been looking for.” With a pleased smile, he stood up straight and offered you his hand, which you took after a moment of hesitation, “Come with me, it’s time I show you your new home.”

“New home?” you questioned, “what do you mean new home? And what do you mean I’m what you’ve been looking for?” 

“I have waited years for the right soul to turn up, to complete me and help tie me to the mortal world and I have finally found it,” San explained as he tugged you along, “you my darling, are going to be my bride.”

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You don’t remember much of what happened after San pulled you away, almost as if you had blacked out. When you woke up, you found yourself tucked into a large bed, having been changed out of your costume and into a red silk nightgown. Your hair was also down and brushed out and your makeup had been removed. You sat up slowly, hugging the black comforter against your body and taking a moment to look around the room. It was a large master bedroom, mainly decorated with black, red, and gold. The bed was on a carved wooden frame with a swirling pattern carved into it at the base. There were also black curtains surrounding the frame that were currently tied up to allow you to see the rest of the room. There were no windows, all the light coming from the chandelier that hung over the middle of the room, casting a warm glow into the otherwise black room. The rest of the furniture that you could see was the same carved wood as the bed frame, and the room was decorated with various paintings and trinkets. 

“I was wondering when you would wake up,” turning your head, you gasped as you saw San standing against the door, “I know the transition to here isn’t the smoothest, but I was starting to worry I may have lost you.”

“Where am I?” you questioned, curling up as much as you could. San looked no different than when you first saw him, and yet his gaze made you feel tiny. 

“You’re home,” he explained as he made his way to the foot of the bed, “and this is your new bedroom. Do you like it? I can always redecorate for you if you want me to.” The warmth in his voice didn’t match his gaze which sent shivers down your body. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to fear him or find comfort in him. 

“I don’t understand,” you whispered, causing him to smile. 

“I know you’re still confused, don’t worry it will all make sense soon enough,” he promised, “for now I want to take this time to really get to know you before I claim you as mine.” You were frozen in place as you watched him remove his suit jacket, his wings practically vanishing to avoid getting in the way. He tossed the garment carelessly to the side, rolling up his sleeves and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt before climbing onto the bed and making his way over to you. You gasped as the comforter was removed and you were pinned to the bed, San crawling on top of you and resting his weight on your hips to keep you from moving. Your arms were pulled above your head, San pinning them above you before snapping his fingers and leaning back. You felt a cold metal appear around your wrists and glanced up to see black chains connecting you to the bedpost, the metal jingling lightly as you tugged at the new restraint. 

“Can’t have you running away now can we?” San teased, “I really did want to take my time with you at first but you have no idea how long I have been waiting for this moment. I don’t plan on waiting any longer.” With that he leaned down and connected your lips in a rough but passionate kiss, biting at your lip as his hands eagerly explored your body. You were frozen in place at first, taken aback by the rough movements. You weren’t a virgin by any means, but most of your previous sexual experiences had been rather vanilla so this was a brand new experience for you. Eventually you were able to melt into him, slowly starting to kiss back and react which earned you a pleased hum from San. His hands trailed back up to the neckline of your nightgown and he quickly ripped the fabric from your body as his tongue slipped its way into your mouth. You gasped at the sudden chill that ran down your body, only to moan as you felt his hands return to your chest. 

“Look at you,” he groaned as he pulled away from the kiss, “such a pretty innocent thing in such a sinful position, I love it.” His fingers pinched at your nipples which had you arching your back and moaning softly. 

“San please,” you whined out, tugging weakly on your restraints. San gave you a questioning look and clicked his tongue, pinching your nipple harder to make you squirm. 

“What did you just call me?” he asked, before you could answer he reached up and grabbed your chin to make sure you were looking at him. “As much as I love to hear you beg for me, you are only allowed to address me as Sir, understood?” You nodded as best as you could with his grip on you which only made him huff, “Use your words brat.”

“Yes Sir,” you muttered out, making him smirk. 

“Good, now lay still and behave while I claim what’s mine!” He let go of your face and repositioned himself, gripping your thighs tightly and spreading them so he could fit between them. You knew you were going to have bruises later, but that didn’t matter right now as San began trailing kisses up your leg. He trailed kisses up the inside of your thigh before biting down, relishing in the way you gasped and squirmed against his touch. He sucked on the spot until he was sure a mark was formed before running his tongue across it and moving to the other thigh to give it the same treatment. He continued the action multiple times until your thighs were visibly covered in bite marks, each time relishing in the noise you made at the combination of pain and pleasure. You tried closing your legs but his grip tightened every time you moved to keep them open, forcing you to lay still until he was satisfied with his work. 

“You look so much prettier covered in my marks, maybe next time I’ll try spelling my name” he hummed, placing one last kiss on the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your core but not quite where you needed him. The teasing made you whine which in turn caused him to chuckle. “Since you were so good for me, I’ll give you a little reward, tell Sir what you want,” he cooed, tracing his fingers across your hip.

“I want you to touch me,” you begged without hesitation, “please Sir I’ll continue to be good just please touch me!” 

“I know you will,” San muttered, reaching a hand down and running a finger teasingly between your folds, “already so wet and I’ve barely even touched you. I don’t know if you’ll be able to handle much more.” You were about to argue that you could when he slid a finger into you, wasting no time before moving at a moderate pace. Within seconds he had found that special spot inside of you, making you cry out as he rubbed against it every time he inserted his finger. “So sensitive and so tight,” San mused, inserting another finger, “I am going to absolutely ruin you.” Your moans grew louder as his pace quickened, making a scissoring motion with his fingers and adding a third to thoroughly stretch you out. You started bucking your hips and grinding against his hand as you felt your orgasm approaching, desperate for release. San noticed this, chuckling to himself as he pressed his free hand on your lower stomach to keep you from moving. The action also made you feel the pressure of his fingers more and pushed you over the edge before you could find the words to warn him. 

Sans pace never faltered as you rode out your orgasm, pushing you into overstimulation before quickly removing himself from you entirely. You whined at the sudden loss of contact, bucking your hips into the air as you tried to catch your breath and come down from your high. 

“I’m disappointed I thought you said you would behave,” San said flatly as he wiped his fingers off on his shirt. You watched as he crawled away from you and off of the bed and for a moment you were worried that he was going to leave you like that. Broken apologies fell from your mouth combined with pleas for him not to stop as you tugged painfully at the chains holding you down. San relished in your begging before quickly silencing you with a wave of his hand, “Because this is our first time I will be nice just this once, but I don’t want to hear any complaints if I continue, got it?” “Yes Sir I promise,” you reply almost immediately. You hear San mutter something under his breath briefly before you suddenly feel the chains around your wrists disappear. 

“Can’t have you hurting yourself,” he explained, undoing his pants and kicking them off before climbing back on top of you, “besides, you’ll probably want to hold on for this.” You do as he suggested and wrap your arms around his neck as you feel his tip at your entrance. “Keep your eyes on me,” he ordered, placing one hand by your head to hold himself up as the other helped guide his length into you. It was hard not to let your eyes roll back as you felt him stretch you, feeling fuller than you ever did with your past partners. San groaned softly as he bottomed out, letting his eyes flutter shut for a moment as he felt your walls squeeze around him. It took everything in his power not to just pin you down and rail you right then, but he didn’t want to hurt you. 

The second he felt you relax he started moving, gradually speeding up until he was thrusting into you at an inhuman speed. The arm that wasn’t supporting his weight moving to grab your hip and pull you against him with each thrust. By this point you had given up on keeping eye contact, wrapping your arms and legs around him as tightly as possible and burying your head in his shoulder to hide your sounds. San didn’t seem to care though, occupying himself with marking your neck as he continued his movements. You were still sensitive from your first orgasm, so it didn’t take long for the second one to wash over you, making you scream against his shoulder as he continued. San slowed down his pace enough to help you ride it out before picking up again to chase his own release. 

“Sir please!” you whined, grabbing desperately at his shirt while your other hand moved to grab at his horn. San groaned loudly at the action, hips faltering for a moment. 

“You can handle one more,” he grunted, “just hold on for me.” It didn’t take long for him to reach his orgasm, groaning loudly and pulling you against him as he released inside of you. The feeling pushed you into your third orgasm as you went limp in his hold, almost feeling like you were going to pass out. 

ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ

As if a switch had flipped inside of San, you felt him gently pull out of you and help you lay back before carefully rolling off of you. Before you could whine about the loss of contact he had rolled onto his back and pulled you into his chest, pulling the covers over both of you to keep you warm. He would clean you up and help you get dressed once he knew you had fallen asleep. For right now though he knew you were probably sensitive and he wanted to give you time to come down from your headspace before he risked moving you and making you uncomfortable. One hand began gently playing with your hair while the other traced down your body, occasionally stopping to massage a particularly sore spot. You allowed yourself to melt into his embrace, feeling his warmth and scent which almost reminded you of fall. You had almost fallen asleep when you heard him speak again. 

“I didn’t mean to actually go that rough,” he confessed, “I never want to hurt you. There’s just something about you though that awakens something in me. I knew it from the moment I laid my eyes on you, I needed to have you and I can’t let you go.” You couldn’t really process what he was saying, let alone a response, so instead you hummed contently against his chest. San couldn’t help but smile down at you, hugging you a bit tighter to him. “I know you probably can’t understand me and I know you may not like me very much tomorrow but I hope you will enjoy it here. I mean it when you say you are mine. The person I will marry and bond myself to, and the one I will spend eternity protecting.” By this point he was just rambling as you had fallen asleep, but he continued with all of his promises as if you would be able to hear and understand him. 

San had waited centuries for the right soul to find him the one that would finally complete him without being destroyed or corrupted, something that could truly tie him to the mortal realm. Spending every October being dragged around by people who were hoping for an eternal favor. He always gave them what they wanted, but normally they weren’t able to handle the consequences. It had become a chore for him at this point, at least until he was called to you. He could feel the connection in you immediately, calling for him. He would give you the ultimate gift, eternal life and youth, and all you had to give him in return was your love and loyalty.

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[little-miss-dilf-lover]

EXTRA CREDIT

professor!matt murdock x student!female reader

co-written with @hailey-murdock

word count. 4185

synopsis. you’re a struggling law student at columbia and seek out help from your temporary professor, matt murdock

warnings. 18+ only!! sexual & taboo content, legal age gap, semi-public sex, praise, unprotected sex but matt pulls out. mdni

notes. collab with my bestie @hailey-murdock if you’re seeing this first on my account, check out hers too <3 link

Students often find themselves in need of that extra boost to achieve their desired grades or attain additional credit towards their coursework.

And that was the case for you - never did you think you would end up at Columbia trying to earn your law degree. 

Now in your senior year, you needed extra credit, and none of your other professors wanted to help.

So you went with your last chance, Professor Murdock. He just started teaching a couple of months ago. But you quickly grew fond of him. Based on what you knew - he took on the Frank Castle case alongside his partner Nelson but lost the case. Maybe the case downshadowed their firm and made everything fall apart.

Who knew? But that made no difference to you. You knew what you wanted and needed. The way to his office made you dizzy, and you didn't know what to expect. You needed him -no, that was wrong- you needed his help.

The moment you stood outside his office, you saw him standing over his desk with his sleeves rolled up. His muscular forearms displayed in front of you. The tie loosely hung around his neck. 

His red-tinted glasses cover his soft, beautiful eyes that you've only ever seen once before. He looked almost angelic - and you finally understood the saying 'sight for sore eyes.' Matthew Murdock was truly a sight for sore eyes. 

The way his fingers ran over the braille on the paper on the table made you have many unholy thoughts about the man that could change your life. It made you think how his hand would feel around your throat while thrusting inside you from behind. Or if he could feel how tight your wet cunt was around his fingers. No, snap out of it. It was a sin to think such a thing of a man 15 years older than you. 

But Matt sensed you there at his door. He had actually heard you when you walked inside the building. The sweet scent of your perfume hit his nostrils stronger than a punch he would take at night on his nightly activities. 

Matt thought you already smelled sweet until he noticed a change of scent. It was more of an intoxicating fragrance - seeping into his skin and staining his memory with your powerful smell, immersed in your essence.

The way you wet your lips was just like beauty drops from the shyness of your lips. Nectar flows of desire with your heartbeat. Matt was hypnotized by the smell of your arousal in the air, making his pants feel tighter.

He was snapped out of that trance when he heard the sweetest sound he could ever hear: your voice. He stood there for a good minute, thinking of all those times he had heard your extremely short skirts rustle against the soft breeze, how the fabric would rub against your skin every time you were near him.

The smile on your face or the light scent of your orgasm from the night before still lingered on your skin, and it drove him mad. Did you have any idea of what you were doing to him? All those times your voice would change around him, the slightly whiney pitch making him want you more.

The soft touch of your hand on him when you would help him through the university campus, guiding him through the buildings, even though he had a cane and memory of the directions. Matt desired your touch on his skin, not on his suit. He couldn't corrupt a sweet, innocent thing like you. Or at least he thought so before.

After you managed to calm yourself down, you walked inside his office. Matt looked like he was about to explode. He was red, flustered, and sweating, and you grew concerned. "Professor? Are you okay?" 

"W-what? Oh, yes. I'm fine. Just thinking. Is there anything I can do for you?" Matt sat in his chair and moved himself to hide his growing erection under the desk. It was so wrong and unprofessional for him to act like this around you, his student. 

Your eyes ran down to his lap, and if Matt wasn't blind, he could see how your pupils grew wide. Matt Murdock wasn't small. No, he was big - bigger than you had imagined before. 

It was disgusting and perverted to think of your professor when you would seek pleasure late at night, hand rubbing your clit and moaning out his name as you came. 

You cleared your throat before continuing. "I've had a hard time understanding torts. I've tried and tried, but I just don't get it. I've been to everyone else, and you're kinda my last resort." You awkwardly chuckle, scuffling your feet.

"And you didn't come to me first?" he playfully questions, stroking over his stubble as if he's trying to assess you.

"No-- well, I didn't want to bother you, you know? You're only here temporarily and--" you trail off.

"I was just messing," he interrupts, a soft smile lining his lips. "Sit," he nods, gesturing to the seat opposite his desk. "I'd love to help one of my favourite students."

"One of them?" you snicker, pulling out the chair and taking a seat. "That's disappointing. I thought I was your favourite," you smile, your tone sweet as you lay your textbooks on the oak desk.  

Your eyes remain fixed on him, and you notice an expression you can't quite place - a face that's unreadable.

You sighed dramatically, "Please, Professor, I need your help-- badly. I need you". 

The small noise ran a chill down Matt's spine. It made it cock twitch underneath his slacks. He made a fist to bite onto it, to make sure the moan that was about to escape from his throat wasn't heard.

The way you begged for his help made him feel pride in his chest, his famous smirk surfacing onto his face. Would you sound this desperate in the bedroom? Matt thought to himself, and his thoughts carried on.

"Professor?" you repeat, your ask falling upon deaf ears. 

"Yes, sorry, forgive me, sweetheart. But back to the topic, I might have something that can help. Let me quickly look for it." He opened one of the drawers and ran his fingers over the braille to know the assignment.

But while he was so concentrated on the paper, you were a flustered mess. Matt Murdock, your professor, had called you 'sweetheart.' It was like honey the way the word rolled off his tongue. Your thighs pressed together to try to calm the ache between your legs. 

The way your scent hit Matt's nostrils was like a hard punch he'd receive on his nightly patrols. A groan left his throat, and he tried to mask it with a cough.

"Sorry, I had this assignment planned for the class but never gave it out. You have a week to do it. When you pass, you'll have your extra credit." Matt handed you your assignment.

"'When,' I think you mean if. But thank you so much for your help professor. I don't know what I would do without you." You knew you could count on him, although you were nervous about the outcome.

"Don't sell yourself short. You're smart and talented. You have a long way ahead of yourself. I know you can do this. If you need help, please come to me. I'll be at your disposal." 

Matt would have given you the extra credit without hesitation, but he wanted you to have a valid excuse to see him. He needed to see you again.

"Thank you again. And I won't sell myself short." You gently smiled at him even though he couldn't see your beautiful smile. 

"Good girl. The sooner you start, the better."

If you weren't blushing earlier, then you certainly would be now. The praise made your knees weak. Your panties are soaked and uncomfortable. The sensation needed to be taken care of once you got back to your dorm.

"I- uh. Yes, sir," you nodded quickly. 

It made you even redder that you couldn't make out a coherent sentence. Matt, that cheeky bastard was enjoying every single moment of this. It fueled his pride and ego, his smirk wider by the second. His erection was starting to become painful. The way you called him sir had him over the edge. 

He felt himself about to cum in his pants like a teenager. Matt needed to desperately do something about it and he couldn't with you there in his office, not yet.

"Is there anything else I can do for you"? 

Yeah, you can fuck me on your desk, you thought. You let out a sigh as you released your bitten lip and responded "No professor, thank you so much. I'll do good, I promise." And with that, you left his office. 

Your scent lingered in Matt's office, he could taste it on his tastebuds. Once he knew for sure you were far away from his office, he closed the door and locked it. He sat back down in his chair, quickly fumbling with his belt to take it off and pull down his pants just enough to take out his cock.

He rolls over his swollen cock with his roughened palm, stroking himself to you, sinful and utterly shameful thoughts of you. Thoughts and notions that made him question his moral code. He knew he shouldn’t be touching himself to you – a student, his student, but he was on the brink, too far gone to stop now. He imagined the noises you’d make, the way you felt wrapped around him, he anticipated the way you would come undone beneath him.

But the overwhelming pleasure made Matt forget everything about his moral code. He knew he would go to hell for his double life and all his sins. But you? Oh, you were his greatest sin, you were the cherry on top of his ticket to hell. His lust and desires wanted him to feel ashamed but Matt did not care. 

The small whimpers Matt knew he could pull out of you only made him harder. Matt wished it was your soft and delicate hands around his cock instead of his calloused hands. He knew he could treat you better than any of those stupid college guys. Only looking for their own release. Pathetic and selfish were the two things guys at college are. After three thrusts, they'd be done, but Matt? Oh, the stamina he has is way beyond what you could ever imagine.

He was a real man who knew how to make you fall apart for him within seconds. The amount of times he could bring you to reach your release. You poor small thing, probably haven't had your sweet cunt eaten out. Maybe even hadn't been given an orgasm.

Matt wanted to ruin you for any other person who would have you. No - you're his. You belong to him. Corrupting you would only add another sin to his list. The more he thought of you, the more he grew closer to coming. Matt's lip was bleeding due to how hard he had been trying to keep his moans and groans quiet.

Matt squeezed his cock tightly imagining that it would be your cunt squeezing him while you come for him, screaming his name. And just with that he came all over his hand and shirt, the sensation was making his senses go overload. A small whimper escapes his mouth. 

Matt reaches out for something to ground himself back again, but he's found with nothing. He needs you- Matt needs you there to comfort him. What? No- he made a deal to cut all forms of relationships. No friends, no love interests, no nothing. What about you then? That was a different situation and he would use you for his own pleasure. There's a difference, Matt thought to himself.

He felt confused, humiliated, even. His mind slowly started to clear, and then he began to round up the pros and cons, weighing what would do more harm. But you were still consuming the logical part of his brain, and all he could muster was an exasperated sigh, dropping his face in his palms like he was soothing himself. He just had to make it through the week.  

You've been doing everything you could to get that extra credit - staying up late, turning down every party invitation, just doing everything you could to get a good grade. All you wanted was for your efforts to be noted and appreciated. You just hoped your professor could notice how hard you were trying and give you something to prove your efforts. 

You haven't seen him all week, practically counting down the days to his handsome face again, and today was finally the day. 

He had a relatively busy schedule, so instead, he asked you to see him at the end, just before hometime -when he knew it would be empty- 

All day you had an anxious pit in your stomach - wild butterflies fluttering around your throat from how nervous you were. You just had to make it until 5 pm, that was all.

The time finally rolled around, and you began to make your way to Matt's office, uneasy footing carrying you to his door. You collect yourself briefly before knocking, tapping in a rhythmic tune. 

"Come in," the voice called from behind the door. 

"Hi," you smile, stepping into the small closet-like room. "You said to come back at 5."

"Yes, yes. Of course. Take a seat," he smiles, gesturing to the seat beside him. 

Your breath catches in your throat when you realise just how close you would be sitting to him, much closer than you were expecting, though you weren't complaining. But you do as told and take a seat.

"How did you find it?" he breaks the momentary silence, crossing his leg towards you. 

"Eh," you sigh, sweetly laughing. "Wasn't awful. But I did it, so that must count, right?"

He lightly chuckles, adjusting himself in the chair almost like he was leaning into you - his body language very much interested. "That's good. How do you think you did?"

"I'd like to think I did good."

His pretty smile resurfaces at your reassuring words, and your thighs instinctively clamp together, your body having a mind of its own.  

"That's great to hear, sweetheart," he nods. "Oh, while I have you here. This computer has been making a weird sound. Can you take a look for me?" 

"Of course," you smile and scooch closer on your chair, perking yourself up as you lean over, accidentally knocking him in the way. "Sorry," you mutter, patting his arm apologetically.

Matt exhales, your delicate touch sending him into a frenzy. "Sorry about the mess-- books everywhere. I really should clean it," he murmurs, shaking his head like he was trying to redirect his blood flow. He continues to blabber, feeling the strain in his boxers once more. "I'll get around to it." 

"It's okay," you whisper, breath catching in your throat again when you feel his knee brush over the back of your leg. "It's no problem." This time, you sounded more desperate than you would've liked - pathetic almost. 

He abruptly adjusts his seating position, his hardened crotch hitting against the cheeks of your ass causing you to stumble forward, splaying over his desk for a brief moment before spinning back around to face him. 

He's big, you think to yourself. Your eyes widen when you realize the position you are in. Matt wanted to do more by assuming that you were excited or maybe nervous as he heard the hammering beat of your heart. 

Besides, it wasn't like you were pushing him away. Maybe you did want this after all, the sweet nectar scent between your legs confirmed his theory. Matt leans in closer towards you, his mouth dangerously close to your ear, "Do I make you nervous, sweetheart?" 

You couldn't form any words, it was embarrassing. The need to have Matt's hand between your thighs to ease the ache was starting to fill your mind. A pathetic whimper fell from your soft lips as you nodded your head 'yes.'

His calloused fingers run over your knee, up your thigh, "Oh you sweet thing, I haven't even done a single thing and you already can't speak. Use your big girl words. Is this okay?"

"Y-yes," it was barely audible. The shade of crimson grew darker on your cheeks the more Matt touched you. His left hand gripping your thigh, while his right hand was on your hip, slowly creeping up your chest to your neck. It only made your arousal leak through your panties how his large hand covered your entire neck.

Matt's body heat radiated onto your skin with how he had you caged against his desk. He couldn’t get enough of how soft your skin was, even softer than the silk sheets on his bed. You were like a drug, his addiction. 

His hand moved to grip your jaw to look at him, he leaned in to kiss the soft lips of yours that he's craved to kiss, to have wrapped around his cock. Sucking him while he'd grip your hair, guiding you, being his good girl. Matt's cock twitches painfully under his slacks. 

"W-what if someone sees us?" You wanted to kiss Matt, badly, but that didn't mean you wanted to get caught. 

"Nobody's here, sweetheart. Don't worry that pretty little head of yours."

Before closing your eyes, you saw the smirk that Matt had grown to flash at you lately. God, how you wanted to make this man feel so good. 

His thumb brushes over your chin, tilting you up to face him once again, his smirk slowly faltering as he closes the distance, angling you to meet his lips. He kisses you with more vigour - more passionately than before, like he was desperate, finally kissing you like those times he's dreamt of.

His palm around your jaw slips behind and into a loose fist of hair at the back of your neck, holding you still and deepening the kiss as he presses his chest into yours, pushing you back into his desk. 

You hop onto the edge of the desk and slip your hands around his waist, finicking with his belt as you eagerly try to undress his lower half.  

He parts from the kiss breathlessly, chuckling as he shakes his head. "Not about me, sweetheart," he smiles, removing your hands from his waistband. He brings your hands to his lips and places a delicate kiss on the back of each. "It's about you."

Matt hastily clears the desk surrounding you, emptying the space for you to lean back. You do as asked, falling back and resting on your elbows as you gaze up at the handsome man standing between your spread legs. 

His hands trail your bare thighs, grazing up the goosebumped skin until his fingertips reach the frilled edging of your underwear. A gentle smile lines his lips as he brushes over the small wet patch of fabric, his thumb tracing your folds through the dampened material. His grin widens as he outlines the mound of your clit, teasing at the nub with small, soft circles. 

On any other occasion, Matt would've taken the time to work you up, to appreciate you - to coax out a couple of orgasms beforehand, but time was not on your side, and what you had was limited. He just wanted to give you a small taste of what he had to offer you, hoping you'd want to come back for more. All he wanted today was to satisfy a slither of his hunger while making you feel good - all while going uncaught. 

He returns his attention to you and slips his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, slowly dragging them over your hips and down your thighs. He balls the damp, slinky fabric and shoves it in his desk drawer for "safekeeping," as Matt lightly put it.

"If we had more time, sweetheart..." he trails off, shaking his head at the thought. 

"I don't really understand law-- I'll be back again soon," you reply, tone flirty and breathless as you shimmy down on the oak desk, adjusting to accompany him. "Might need some more extra credit."

"That's good-- I can do that," his voice hoarse as he urgently unbuckles his belt, unzipping his fly. "I've got plenty more. Anything you need."

He pulls his cock out over the waistband of his boxers, keeping most of himself covered in the off and unfortunate chance of getting caught.

You perk yourself up higher on your elbows and glance down at him, eyes bugging out your head when you see his thick, swollen dick twitching in his tight grasp. He wasn't your first, but his size certainly was. 

Matt lazily rolls over his cock, massaging in a few beads of precum as he situates closer, standing between your legs with his thighs pressed into the back-side of yours. He pushes his dick through your folds, collecting your wetness on his head, slick lips parting around his girth.

"If it's too much, let me know," Matt reassures, stroking your thigh with his spare hand.

"I will," you eagerly nod, wrapping your hand around his cock, slowly guiding him into you.

He stills, allowing you to take what you want, letting you take it little by little til you're full solely of him. His thick cock stuffed into your perfect, pretty pussy - warm walls melting around him as you twitch and whine on the table. 

"That's it-- doin' so good," he coos, brushing comforting circles over your tummy, the action as if to soothe you. "Feel so perfect."

Matt slowly drags out a few inches and pushes back in, doing it repetitively as if to stretch you out, slowly fucking and filling you. One of his hands trails back to your waist, gripping your skin and gently tugging your body to meet his lazy, uneven jabs. The other placed calculatedly over your pubic bone, thumb swirling over your clit in a movement that juxtaposed his sloppy thrusts. 

The dingy room is full of stifled moans and muttering praises - wet, squelching noises accompanying the lewd sounds. 

It all began to feel like too much, as if Matt was pressing all your buttons at once - doing everything to get you off as fast and hard as possible. 

"Quiet, sweetheart. I can't be giving everyone extra credit," he hushes, continuing to leisurely wind his cock into you, going nice and slow. "That's only for you, sweet girl."

He leans over your body, swallowing your whimpers with rough kisses as if he knew you were close - like he was taking precautions, not wanting others to hear. 

His thrusts never falter in motion, giving you what you want, not changing a thing as he brings you to your ever-longing high. 

"Cum on my dick," he murmurs against your lips, resting his forehead on yours, softly panting. "That's it, that's it, that's it, that's it."

The internal balloon in your stomach wears thin, and you do as instructed - cumming around his thick cock as you entrap him to your body, caging him in a bear hug. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, muffling moans and cries as you let go.

"Sound so pretty," he whispers, peeling himself from your grasp. "So, so pretty."

Once you come back down, he stands upright and yanks his cock from the perfect warmth between your legs, rolling over his reddened head as he spills his release on your inner thigh, mumbling curses and praises about how good you make him feel. 

Matt quickly tucks himself away, and his cheeks flush a light pink as he slips his hands into yours, pulling you up and helping you up. He sits in his chair and rolls it closer to you, pulling out one of his desk drawers and collecting a pack of tissues.

"Didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks, wiping the tissue over your thigh, cleaning the cum. 

"No," you reply immediately, shaking your head. "Not at all."

"Good," he grins, throwing the tissue in the can by the window. "We'll keep this as our little secret?"

"Absolutely," you sweetly laugh. "But, I should be going. My roommate's waiting on me."

"Of course, sweetheart," his grin widens, nodding understandingly.

He helps you to your feet and adjusts your skirt, smoothing over the fabric. As he does that, you sort out your upper half - straightening your top and fixing your hair. 

"Oh-- my underwear," you giggle, feeling a slight breeze. 

He playfully tuts, clicking his tongue as he buckles his belt. "I'm keeping them for a few days. Will you give you a reason to come back."

You sling your bag over your shoulder and reach for the door handle. "I don't need another reason."

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

matt taglist: @hailey-murdock @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @redecoratestan @kpopgirlbtssvt @scarletsloveletter @princess-pebbles-things @messymissy @schneeflocky @readerhead @thegreengoop @charmedkim @queerponcho @simplyreflected @kinglokisqueen4ever

#fic #collab fic #matt murdock #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock one shot #matt murdock x fem!reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil #matthew murdock x fem!reader #matthew murdock smut

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One

Summary : After you treat him in the ER, Officer Tom Ludlow asks you out. You turn him down, thinking you know his type, but he’s not willing to take no for an answer. In fact, you find out he’s more than willing to abuse his authority in his pursuit of you. Maybe Ludlow seems like an asshole, but when you are drawn into a dangerous conspiracy that could go all the way to the top of the LAPD, he might be the only thing that stands between you and a shallow grave.

TW : Abuse of authority, alpha male, sexual harassment, the word “no” is not in this man’s vocabulary

The ER is overflowing tonight. There was a huge drug bust down on South Hampton Avenue that ended in a fire and gunfight: turned out to be a big enough debacle that they had to call a code black throughout the hospital, which basically means, at least for you, no breaks or time between patients. In times like this, charting even takes a back burner thanks to a hospital policy where everything you learned in nursing school flies out the window and you don’t have to document what you’re doing. 

It’s a good thing, because you don’t have time to log onto a computer let alone write something down with pen and paper. Burn victims, gunshots, every bed full, people boarding in the waiting room and hallways with broken limbs and makeshift pressure dressings on bullet holes and stab wounds.

The once chemical, pristine floor and walls now look like something from a SAW movie, and you’re not much better off. Bloody, dirt caked scrubs, exhausted, sweat stains. You’ve probably done more chest compressing tonight than you have in your entire career leading up. And you’ve seen more people die tonight… well, more than you’d like.

You wipe some tears off your cheeks, pretending it’s sweat, before walking into the lobby to catch the stragglers. “Thomas?”

“Call me Tom.” He’s a cop, still in uniform, sitting on the floor with a big puff of gauze pressed into his shoulder. You kneel down beside him. 

“I’m y/n, can I take a look?”

“Sure.” He winces, pulls the bloody dressing away to reveal a big, messy gash slicing into his left shoulder. It will need stitches, that’s for sure, but other than that it looks like a fairly clean cut. 

“Knife?” You ask him, pulling back on his shirt. 

“Some fucking idiot crackhead with a sword, actually,” he grits. 

You laugh a little bit. “I’m having a hard time believing that.”

“So am I.” He tries to grin at you, but it comes out more like a snarl because of the way you’re poking and prodding at him. 

Maybe it's just because you're exhausted, you've had a terrible night, and you hurt all over, but you can't help but notice how handsome this man is, even after his own ordeals on the mean streets of the City of Angels. He watches you with sharp dark eyes that miss nothing. You almost feel sorry for the criminals who find themselves on the receiving end of that stare. As it is, you almost feel a little unnerved yourself, until you notice a sparkle of humor for you in those dark orbs. However, you still get the feeling like he's studying you while you are tending his wound.

“I gotta stitch this,” you tell him, a little shy under his gaze, now. 

“Are you good at that?” 

You’re kind of in your own little world when he asks that, looking at his arms. Solid and big. Nice veins. It takes you a minute to register that he even said something. Yeah, you chastise yourself, why don’t you just start fucking drooling while you’re at it? 

“Good at what?” 

His grin tips higher. “Stitches…” 

“No, but I'm going to stab you repeatedly with a needle anyway…”

He chuffs with laughter. “You just seem a little distracted.” The way he smirks at you, you just know you're caught out. Get it together, you scold yourself. Maybe act like a professional instead of oogling the nice police officer.

“Sorry. It's just been a really long night. I promise, you're in good hands.”

“Looking forward to it,” he answers, with a beam of direct eye contact that nearly brings you to your knees. 

This is where you catch your lucky break, because this is where you start to get annoyed. Mostly, at yourself, but partly at him too. He clearly knows how attractive he is. He's just that kind of asshole. And it's been fucking forever since you've gotten laid, because the world is just so full of assholes… It's not fair, the way he uses this advantage to tease you, when you feel like an extra in a Rob Zombie film. You do your best to appear unaffected as you walk away to retrieve supplies. You also pretend not to notice him staring at your ass, which, okay, you have to admit, it’s a little bit of a confidence boost. 

It’s almost stupid to put towels under his arm as you spray him off with sterile water - this floor could actually use it. You get the edges pink and shiny, uncake the blood and the viscera. Grateful for the distraction - distraction from the big, brown eyed cop who won’t stop looking at you. 

He has that type of stare that has weight to it. You feel it, on your skin– and you hate to admit it– in the aching throb between your legs, which is the last thing you need to be distracted by right now. Ah, the stupid lady parts, always making their vote known at the worst possible time. 

Even though you let the anesthetic sit for a while, modern medicine can’t account for all the pain. He’s wincing and grunting while you tug his open flesh back together, and those gruff sounds are not helping this whole being attracted to him situation. You feel like your skin is on fire from his overwhelming stare, from the noises coming out of that long throat. Christ, he’s not even touching you…

“You alright there sweetheart? I'm the one under the needle.”

You look at him, some of that anger escaping in your tone. “Please don’t call me sweetheart.” 

“Sorry. Been a long night for me too.” He lifts one of those sculpted dark brows at you, and you feel it as your heart tries most earnestly to tap dance right out of your fucking chest. 

You sigh, narrowing your eyes so that he knows he's not in the clear. Unfortunately, he just seems to find that adorable, those dark eyes sparkling like black diamonds. 

“Just…let me finish you off so you can get out of here.”

“Didn't know you performed that service here,” he quips with a smirk, and you're almost relieved he drives this final nail into his coffin, even if the suggestion makes a spear of desire shoot through you. 

“I'm starting to side with the crackhead now.”

“Ooo, ouch,” he snarks, unaffected. “Take your time, this is the most fun I've had in a while.”

You decide not to answer, concentrating on your work. This man has a quick comeback for everything, you have a feeling. Worse, you kind of doubt a girl like you has a chance in hell of outmaneuvering him.

As you're bandaging him up, he senses your time together is coming to a close. His demeanor changes a little– if you didn't know any better,  you'd think he was sad about it. “Thanks for stitching me up,” he says, surprisingly humble. He rolls those big dark eyes up to yours, and you feel your resolve to be a stone cold professional crumble–a little.

“You're welcome.” It's possible your touch on his shoulder lingers just slightly longer than it should. 

“Hey…” He clearly feels bold enough to catch your hand in his. And holy shit, that hand. Your little mitt disappears in his, wrapped up in long, blunt fingers. The things you bet that hand could do to you…

It's definitely not a helpful thought.

“Any chance I could give you a call sometime?”

Your initial, knee-jerk reaction to this question, from this fine-ass man, is Yes, please and thank you. You're sure he sees it in your eyes, the way you're practically ready to sit up and bark for him.

But then, past experiences raise their hands to the situation, and how grateful you are. 

You know this guy's type, you convince yourself. Handsome, and macho, and they think they're so cute they can say anything and you'll just keep eating out of the palm of their hand, grateful to be their girl. You've starred in this show before– and it always ends in tragedy, with your heart in shreds, and them shrugging you off before moving on. 

Not tonight. 

“Sorry, but…I think it's best we keep this professional.”

Why does it hurt to say it?

You expect him to sulk, maybe even get mean, the way so many manly men do when a woman bruises their fragile egos. However, it seems this man is different. He just smirks, and you realize with a skip of your heartbeat, that he is not deterred at all.

“If you say so, sweetheart.”

With your heart in your throat, you have a feeling this is not the last you see of detective Tom Ludlow.

#Tom ludlow #street kings #keanuverse #tom ludlow x reader #collab fic #Johnwickb1tsch is amazing at graphics!!! #Tom Ludlow fic

[sergeantwoods]

stop.

two writers should do a collab fic where one writes in soap pov, and the other writes in ghost pov ,,

surprise each other with each chapter , ghost writer writing something from ghost pov that makes you go like ,, " whoa ! " and soap writer writes how soap would react

ofc you can edit it to make more sense ,, but it sounds pretty cool project ngl

... if anyone wants to do a collab fic ...

... we can do it together ...

( i have a couple ideas )

winks (;

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #soapghost #modern warfare ii #collab fic #yippee #fic ideas

[marie-is-seein-stars]

Mafia AU: Stray Kids -

Chapter 1: Rough Start

Word Count: 918

Mdni contains swear words and some suggestive themes

Synopsis: um...so basically girlie is in the streets because her mans was clapping another girls' cheeks when she came back home and there is a flashback moment and stuff and then she runs into Hyunjin, who is a tatted-up BEEFCAKE (oh yeah and he's part of the Stray Kids' mafia🤭)

You were running from people, a vendor you had stolen food from as a desperate attempt to survive, you hadn't eaten since you left your apartment, which was weeks ago. Now here you were, feeding on scraps and stealing food just to keep your body distracted from the sickness that was fogging your mind. Your body might've been occupied, but your brain kept playing that scene in your head like a broken record.

You held on to the rickety metal pole that passed as railing on the concrete stairs to the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, 143-District 9. It reeked of tobacco, but an unfamiliar sound filled your ears 'It's just the neighbors, fucking, again' you rolled your eyes at the noise, reassuring yourself that your boyfriend would never cheat on you. But as you unlocked the door, that noise became louder, and that's when the truth hit you like a ton of bricks.

You walked right up to the bed and they were still at it! “What the hell?!” you screamed and pulled the girl off of your now ex-boyfriend. “Get OUT!!!,” the girl scampered to get her clothes and reached for her purse, when suddenly you had a thought, it was your apartment after all.

 “How about I show you to the door instead!” you dragged her by the hair, and opened the door, throwing her naked form out into the hall for anyone who was out to see. Your boyfriend was petrified the whole time, knowing what was coming for him as well. “Ah, you know what, I’m leaving you here to pay rent with whatever you can scrounge out of my safe, but this?,” you dangle the necklace he had gifted to you only a week ago as an anniversary present in between your slim fingers,”I’m keeping it.” he scrambled after you, blubbering and screeching about all the good times the two of you had together. 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You were running from people, a vendor you had stolen food from as a desperate attempt to get something to eat. You hadn't eaten since you left your apartment, which was days ago. Now here you were, feeding on scraps and stealing food just to keep your body distracted from the negative thoughts fogging your mind. Your body might've been occupied, but your brain kept playing that sequence of events in your head like a broken record. You turn sharply into an alley, bumping roughly into what feels like a wall.

Except, it’s not a wall, it’s a person, a man who couldn’t be much older than you. But, there was something about him, it was dangerous yet alluring. He had a fuck ton of tattoos; you also took note of the fact that he was armed with a pistol and a switchblade. He had shoulder length dark black-red hair. "Sorry”, you whisper, he gave you a once-over, then muttered “Not a problem", glancing at the pendant you wore added "Princess”.

You were about to protest but his dangerous gaze shut you up. His scent made you want to attempt to swim in black licorice and Axe body spray...even though you hated licorice, (Twizzlers are the exception) and drown in it. The scent was so intoxicating that it actually pulled a response out of you. “mMmn” was all that came out of your mouth, thank the gods! “MMmn~?” he exclaimed questioningly “Oh! Um, I was just uh…” You walk backwards out of the alley without another word and come across a park bench. You take a seat and suddenly remeber the food you had. You eat some now and save the rest for breakfast. You stash the food under the bench, making sure there's no bird dooky or spider webs before placing it in a dark corner and covering yourself with your jacket you had on.

You drift to sleep, thinking about the guy with the yummy scent and tatoos. A few hours later you hear several pairs of footsteps. You freeze, unable to determine if it's some mugger or a serial killing gang. What if it's a cult that has wierd colored contacts, so whenever they give you the bombastic side eye you lose your shit, not because of them but because of those damned lenses, seriously though, whose supplying people with those? Next thing you know, you feel a tight sensation in your leg, but before you can react you body goes limp as you slip into black inky unknown.

(Like and follow for more!)

Hello! this is a collab series with @qwqqmfh! Please note that this is just the first chapter and that more content will be on the way soon! Faith will be making all of the images at the heading of every chapter in this series, so a big shoutout to her!

Tag list is OPEN!:

@calumpartridge1996 @flyawaybird444

@vulgarmaw

@ka0ila

@yoshida-chiyo

@mikasaackerman728

@foxinnie8

@hyunlixwife

@hey-i-really-miss-you

@stray-kid-felix98

@jarkinesbrainstew

@mikeymadisonispretty

@thicccurls

@skz3-batfamily

@strvystvrlightt

@kaiso-woo

@hyunjinvoid

@atinyniki

@onlychanz @jetblackbelle @xx3rachaslutxx @isakkaye @im-lost-please-help

@skz-lover21 @kpopandmusicpassion@ilovefelixandhyunjinnotyou

@lixiesunshine143@sharonxdevi @z1faa @bunnnnycat@betweensupernovasandstars @bigolheythere@missnea@qwqqmfh@turtledove824@kja1292@cupkiki@staytinyzen0

@d4n1k9@mylani3110@kawaiitastemakernight152@channiesmegaverse@palindrome969 @scuzmunkie@rylea08

#stray kids #jyp stray kids #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #bang chan #hyunjin #han jisung #hwang hyunjin #changbin #skz mafia au #9th member of skz #9th member of stray kids #fic preview #my fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic #skz x reader #stray kids x you #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #collab fic #qwqqmfh #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #seungmin #jeongin #lee know

[lestappenforever]

Lestappen fic collab SNEAK PEEK

The wonderful Ilse (@f1writingbyme) and myself have decided to try our hand at a little Lestappen fic collab.

It was supposed to be a short little thing that was born out of a very unserious conversation on WhatsApp, that has since spiraled and is now already at 10 000+ words. And we're nowhere near done yet.

To celebrate the fact that it's finally race weekend again, we wanted to share a little sneak peek with you to hopefully get you at least half as excited about it as we are.

Disclaimer: This is our attempt at humor. Please laugh.

#Lestappen #Lestappen fic #f1writingbyme #My writing #Collab fic #Ilse's neverending adoration tag

[austajunk]

The wonderful @bardic-feline and I wrote a nice and naughty Eldritch AU Danganronpa Fic and the third chapter is up! So please take a look. <3

Smile at the Mouth of Despair

Summary: When part-time streamer Chiaki Nanami enters the Kirigiri Detective Agency one afternoon and insists that she is being lured to her death on a mysterious island, assistant investigator Makoto Naegi is determined to keep her safe from what fate awaits her. However, as they pursue this mystery together, they both find themselves seduced and entangled by a strange and eerie butler who longs to return an ancient power to its former glory…

Main Ships: Komaegi, Komanami, KamuNami, and KamuKoma <3

#danganronpa #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #danganronpa 2 goodbye despair #chiaki nanami #makoto naegi #nagito komaeda #izuru kamukura #naenami #komaegi #komanami #kamunami #kamukoma #smile at the mouth of despair #chapter three #my art #collab fic #chiaki is getting haunted by the tendrils and the spookies in this one :3 #thank you bardic for everything

[chthonicarcher]

oh hi! did you miss us? :3

it’s cabin fic, baby! new chapter from me and @cutthroatpixie! art by @karkatbug as always, tysm bug <3

#homestuck #dave strider #karkat vantas #davekat #cabin fic #my fic #collab fic #it’s been a minute huh?? #hope you all like it <3 #comments are appreciated always <333

[schemmentis]

La Cosa Nostra - Pt. 2

Co-Written w/ @janeyseymour

Part 1

Summary: You tell Melissa what's going on, and the investigation continues...

WC: 2k

Irish Translations: Mo ghrá - My love, A storin - My little treasure

Italian-American/Italian Translations: Figlio di puttana - son of a bitch, mamaluke - idiot/fool, Ti voglio ben’assai - I love you so much

“Well,” Danek sighs. “She said the magic words.”

You let out a rather long yawn, this unplanned late night catching up to you. “Can I go home now? God... my wife is going to kill me.”

“You’re back here at nine sharp, lawyers present,” Shaw tells you. “Or we will find you, and we will arrest you.”

You huff. “Can we do ten?” you try to negotiate. “If I’m going to stay married, I know I’m going to have to take my girls to school today, and they start at nine.”

“Ten o’clock,” Shaw tells you. “But know that if you aren’t her-”

“I know,” you roll your eyes. “You will find me, and you will arrest me.”

You stand and go to leave, only to realize that your car is sitting safely in your driveway at home. It’s far too late for you to walk home alone safely now too. “Can you take me home?”

You’re escorted back to your house, grumbling about how if you were hiding something like they think you are, why on Earth would you let them know where you live. You only hope these two believe you. The entire ride home, you feel the binder dig into your back, and you know when you go to change you’ll have various marks from the edges of the sharp book.

Unlocking your door, you sigh heavily. Kicking off your shoes and relocking the door in the dark, you finally shrug off your blazer and pull the binder from between your belt. You stretch just slightly before making your way into the bedroom.

The sight before you makes your heart swell. Both of your little ones are curled into your wife’s sides as she sleeps just slightly propped up, clearly having fallen asleep waiting for you and trying to work out her own business. Her glasses are half on her face, her phone is resting on her chest, and both hands are laying over your twins’ chests.

You get ready for bed as quietly as possible and hide the ledger for your illegal business in the safe under your bed before sliding in and attempting to lay Melissa down without waking her. Of course though, that doesn’t work.

“Y/N?” your wife lets out sleepily as she blearily opens her eyes. They take a few seconds to adjust and focus on you. She glances at the clock. “It’s three am, and you’re just getting in?”

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” you sigh softly as you curl up around Rosie. “Get some sleep, I’ll wake up with the girls tomorrow to make it up to you for not being here last night.”

“Are you okay?” Melissa asks you in a whisper.

You prop yourself up on your elbows to kiss her gently. “I don’t know, but you three will be.”

“What does that mean? Where were you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you sigh as you lay back down and close your eyes.

You feel a gentle hand reach for your own in the darkness. It squeezes, almost too tight for just a moment before it relents to a soft grasp. You take a deep breath, though you don’t open your eyes. You know it’s Melissa’s silent way of reinforcing her presence, as well as her combination of frustration and worry.

“You don’t just get to come home at three am after leaving me high and dry for mom duty.” Your wife’s voice hits your ears softly in the dark. You’re certain it’s only because your girls are asleep next to you both that she doesn’t sound as pissed as you expected. “After having Tony tell me to take my ziti off the menu, might I add. Then he didn't even tell me where you were. I was worried.”

“I was down at the station,” you reveal with a heavy breath. “Now seriously, Mo ghrá, get some sleep, and we can talk about this tomorrow.”

Your wife huffs, not thrilled to not be clued in with whatever is taking place, but she does relent. An arm of hers wraps around Cat as she lets her own eyes flutter shut.

That night, you dream of what might come out of this. You dream of ways for you to possibly escape the sticky situation that you’ve found yourself in. But you also have nightmares of the many (and more probable) ways that this could all pan out: Melissa being hurt, your girls getting hurt, being taken away from the twins, being murdered- just like Bobby.

You don’t know how long it took you to fall asleep. Properly asleep, that deep and restorative sleep. You know when you wake up though. Your eyes pop open, startled awake by the slap of a tiny palm to your face. Half a palm and little fingers blocking your left eye and the other half pressed to your upper cheek. 

“Mam.” One tiny voice doing her best to whisper calls for you. You blink when the little hand pulls away to see Cat, half sprawled across your wife and her sister to reach you. “Mam!” Her decent attempt at a whisper rises with her excitement to see you awake.

You softly shush her. “I’m happy to see you too, A storin, but we don’t want to wake up Mommy.” You quietly explain as you untangle yourself from your little family taking up all of your bed. 

You pick up Cat first since she’s awake, kissing her small cheek before you maneuver to pick up her sister. You carry both your girls to the kitchen, setting them to their chairs at the table. “Mam is going to make breakfast and then take you to school, okay? We’re going to use our inside voices and let Mommy get some extra rest.” 

Thankfully, they listen to you. Seemingly, they’re content so long as you’re in sight and softly speaking with them or humming the songs you know they like. You only have a small snafu when Cat insists she has to wear the shoes you’d just gotten onto Rosie’s feet. They are her shoes and not her sister’s, she informs you. You placate her by proffering an exact matching pair that would have been put on her feet next anyway. She still grumbles a bit about her sister wearing her shoes, though. 

You’re just about to get them out the door when Melissa appears, dressed aside from her shoes. She kisses each of your girls’ heads when they greet her excitedly as she leans down to grab the pair she means to put on.

“I told you I’d take them in.” You softly remind her. “You were supposed to be sleeping in.”

She glances up at you as she slips her heel over her foot, balancing without leaning against the doorway. “Are you kidding? This is already more sleeping in than I usually get. I need to check on the prep since I didn’t get to oversee it personally.” Melissa looks away just long enough to situate her other heel before her eyes return to you, slightly harder than usual. “Besides, you still need to tell me about last night.”

You nod, hustling your little ones out the door a little faster than you might otherwise. You’re on the edge of running late and the last thing you need is some PPD squad car pulling you over because it’s 10:01 and you haven’t walked back into the station yet.

Melissa gives you a look once you’re all in the car, the girls safely into their car seats in the back. You can read her expression well enough by now. You can tell she doesn’t like what’s going on- your late night last night, you're rushing them all this morning.

You sigh as you pull out of your driveway towards the girls’ school. “I have to be back at the station at ten.” You finally say beneath the girls singing along to Frozen songs played from your phone over the car speakers. 

“Back at the station?” Melissa repeats, staring at you. “What’d they need you back for? They didn’t figure all this sh—” She stops herself short of swearing with a deep breath. “They didn’t figure out what they needed from you last night?”

You glance in your rearview mirror, ensuring both the girls are still occupied. Not that they’re old enough to understand anything they may hear. They are, however, old enough to repeat whatever they hear without discretion. 

“They’re investigatin’ Bobby’s murder.” You answer as you look back to traffic. “I dunno what they’ve found in doin’ that but it…it sure seems like whatever it is also put them on to the salon. I wouldn’t be surprised if they got people campin’ it.”

“So, let’s just call Tommy. He’s kept the blues off of everything for us plenty of times before.”

“Mel…” You take a breath. Tommy is one of your ins in the PPD, an old connection and friend by now. The girls call him Uncle Tommy. He comes to your house on holidays. You trust Tommy. But even Tommy can’t go up against the FBI. Not without risking himself immensely. “It’s the Feds, babe.”

“Figlio di puttana!” Your wife does curse now, not exactly quietly but not as loud as you know it would have been if you were the only two in the car. Hopefully the language switch and bigger words means if the twins heard, they can’t really repeat it properly. 

Melissa doesn’t say anything else as you pull up to the twins’ school. She only speaks to say goodbye to both your girls and tell them to have a good day before you walk them in. You take a little extra time to say goodbye to them yourself in their classroom doorway. You hug them both tight, telling them you love them. Just in case. You can’t help imagining the worst from the rest of whatever today holds. 

When you get back to the car, Mel has switched to the driver’s seat. You slip into the passenger without batting an eye. You can see the tension the redhead is holding. In her shoulders, in the steady whitening of her knuckles as she grips the steering wheel. You feel it all mirrored in your own muscles. 

“I’m comin’ in with you.” She says as you turn down the street the station sits on.

“No.” You quickly protest. “I kept you from the restaurant last night; you need to worry about that today.” You insist.

“Fuck that, I’m not leavin’ you to sit in an interrogation room for hours again. If you had told me that’s what was happenin’ last night—”

“I was already asking plenty by asking you to miss your prep. The girls needed you to be with them last night.”

“No, what the girls needed was you to be there to keep your promise to ‘em. Don’t get me started, Y/N.”

You close your eyes briefly as Melissa swings your car into the station’s parking lot. You squeeze them tighter just a little when you hear her grumble next to you. “Oh, great. Do we really need Sammy?”

You open your eyes after a deep breath. You see Sammy, dressed immaculately in a suit as he steps from his mercedes. Salvatore ‘Sammy’ Gaetano is one of the best lawyers in the city. He’s also a member of the Italian mafia in Philly. Which is why he’s standing in the station’s parking lot, staring pointedly at you through your car’s windshield. He raises his arm, tapping his rolex. You’re running out of time.

“Look, go to the restaurant, okay? Take care of everything there that you need to, alright? I’ll ask Sammy to call your Ma to get the girls from school so you don’t have to worry about them tonight.”

Melissa’s glare turns away from Sammy, still staring as he waits on you, to you. “And what about you, huh? I’m just ‘spose to not worry about you, that it?”

“For today, yes.” You say as you unclip your seatbelt.

“Don’t be a mamaluke.” Melissa grumbles. “You know damn well I’m gonna worry anyhow.” She reaches as you open the car door, gripping the sleeve of your dress shirt and tugging you to lean across the console to her side of the car. She kisses you like her life depends on it. Like she’s worrying about the same thing you are. Like it could be the last time. “Ti voglio ben’assai.” She whispers to you when she pulls away.

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary fanfiction #la cosa nostra #collab fic

[runa-falls]

I'M DOING A COLLAB WITH MY FAVORITE PERSON @leoluved !! we came up with so many good prompts + need a little help choosing! vote what you'd like to read (or add/comment in the tags!)

this'll be up for a week + if there's a tie, we can do another one after!

#nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader #steven grant #steven grant x reader #collab fic #ex machina #moon knight #oscar issac #poll #polls #fic poll #this is my first collab :)) so excited ahhh

[nspwriteups]

Maayaiya Sol - Part 2

A/N: here's the much awaited sequel. @harinishivaa had lots of fun working on this with you 😊

Arulmozhi was completely starstruck to silence. He could not believe what he was seeing. As the flute started playing, he could see his Akka Kundavai coming in with some little girls holding her hands  out of the corner of his eye but that was not what captivated him. His Vanathi looking feather in pink sari, pink turban with a peacock father tucked in it and flower garland around her neck, every aspect reflecting Lord Krishna was descending, yes, actually descending to the floor, being suspended by makeshift cloth ropes with some of her companions helping her by supporting her weight. Kundavai came to the podium and greeted her Patti by touching her feet. She sneaked a glance at her Thambi before taking her seat on the other side Sembayin Madevi and suppressed a laugh when she saw him staring at her Uyir Thozi with gaping mouth. The girls started singing and arranging themselves into their positions with Vanathi in the middle impersonating Krishna with her hands in the mudra of a flute. Then Vanathi started singing.

Moththathila Siththathula ,Thiththida Vandhen

Un Nethikkulla, Poothi Vaikka Vanthen(2)

Arulmozhi was already impressed by her dance skills and how she was moving her body to the tune so effortlessly while enjoying herself, he wasn't prepared to hear her sing. What a sweet voice! How was he deprived of hearing her sing for so long?

Ratchasa Maamane

Rathiriyin Sooriyane

Kovaipalam Pole

Nee Kobam Kollathe

Un Aaram Budhi

Thera Budhithaan(2)

She was thoroughly enjoying herself, enacting the words she sang. And he was enjoying himself, in her voice, her expressions and her mannerisms. Then she was back again in mid-air, the cloth ropes around her and being pulled up by her companions. Part of him was worried about her moving her body while she was suspended like that - what if she falls? What if she loses her balance? But another part of him was smiling at how lovely her Maya Kannan persona is.

Ho, Veeran Veeran Veeran Veeran

Enga Mamane Veeran

Aalamaram Vera Pola

Azham Aana Veeran

Aattam Kaana Vaikka Pogiraan

Aattukutti Theran

Naatu Thalaivan… Motcham Kolgiraan

Oh Oo, Meesavacha Miruga Mirugane

This was his Vanathi? The seemingly shy and  quiet Kodumbalur Kula Vilakku?The girl dancing in front of him was so confident, so talented, so immersed in her own performance. Just then his Patti, touched his shoulder and pointed towards Senthan Amudhan who just arrived.He gave a small smile and folded his hands to acknowledge him but in his mind, he was a bit annoyed. Why are people arriving in the middle of the performance and disrupting him from watching his dear?

Moththathila Siththathula

Thiththida Vandhen

Un Nethikkulla

Poothi Vaikka Vanthen

He briefly looked at his Akka and saw her smiling at her Uyir Thozi's performance and  looking around, probably for her Vana Kula Ilavarase. Oh right! He is the Kamsa Mama who would be dancing with Vanathi. Is it too late for him to gatecrash this spectacle and dance with her instead of Vallavaraiyan? Maybe not, maybe he should content himself with watching her.

Just then there was a howl and he looked on as Vanathi and the other dancers turned back to face the entry of some men, covered in black paint from head to toe and wearing black clothes, representing the Kamsa Mama's men. And with them, Vallavaraiyan Vanthiyathevan, also covered in black paint and black clothes with red adornments announced his arrival with his part of the song 

Thomsa Vidham Thomsa Vidham

Imsai Mozhi

Amsamena Amsamena… Vamsavazhi

Vantharasan Vantharasan

Kamsamugan Naan

He descended the steps, no, it seemed like he was hopping down the steps singing, proudly showing off his Kamsa Mama cameo with the fake claws and big anklets around his ankles. 

Nakkeranin Nakkeranin Puthirane

Nithamudan Nithamudan Sathiyane

Muthu Nigar Muthu Nigar

Otrai Magan Naan

He expected nothing less from his friend. He knew Vanthiyathevan to be a fierceless warrior, versatile traveller, incredible charmer and a loyal friend. It was now clear to him that the Vana Kula Ilavarase was also a extremely good performer. He once again looked at his Akka, who was staring at the newly arrived performer with amusement. He inwardly thanked his Aditha Anna for introducing this multi-talented man into their lives. But it was now time to refocus on his heroine again.

Balagane Balagane

Balagane Balagane

Andangalin Andangalin Suttrugalai

Kandangalai Kandangalai Vendreduthu

Konda Oru Konda Oru

Komagan Naan

Vanthiyathevan easily stole the show with his eccentricity. And he also stole almost all of the audience's attention. He noticed how his Patti was viewing his friend with admiration and his Akka simply gazing at him. But Vanthiyathevan failed to capture everyone's attention as Arulmozhi refused to let Vanathi out of his sight.

Ennigaraai Ennigaraai Vinnulagil

Mannulagil Mannulagil Chanthiranai

Manthiranai Manthiranai

Vanthavano Yaar

Kathum Kadal Kathum Kadal

Ettum Thoda

Sooriyanai Sooriyanai Thottu Ida

Vada Madurai

Valam Varuven Naan

He saw Vanathi stand on the steps, hands on her hips with a small amusing smile on her lips. Occasionally she sneaked a look at Kundavai as if to say "Aren't you seeing your lover overacting Akka?". But at the same time he couldn't imagine Vanathi dancing so comfortably with anyone else. Forget dancing, he couldn't even imagine her being so natural around anyone else other than Kundavai and Vanthiyar. 'These two should have been blood siblings ' he thought looking at the Maya Kannan and Kamsa Mama roleplayers on stage as Vanathi started singing the next part.

O O Ho O o, Ennam Illayaa

Thinnam Illayaa

Naan Chinna Pillayaa

Nee Koochchalittu Atchiseiya

Koochamillaya

Two small girls from the group pushed Vallavaraiyan to the side where his fellow raakshasa men were waiting to catch him. He again watched Vanathi sing, her body moving to the tune of the song and her facial expressions mirroring the meaning behind the lyrics. He also noticed Vanthiyathevan look in their direction with a grin but he knew who was the recipient of that grin. He saw Kundavai smile softly at Kamsa Mama, Amudhan seated near her looking at the pair in mild curiosity.

Thollai Seivathaa… Pillai Vaaivathaa

Palli Kolvathaa

Nee Kattumullil Vetti Pola

Matti Kolvathaa

He wondered if he could make eye contact with Vanathi too. But she seemed to be deep in her role barely noticing the audience now and focused on her performance.

Hey Ayyare Ayyare

Aadu Mama Ayyare, Ho

Ye Thaiyaa Thaiyaa

Thaiyaare, Ho

He sat up straighter and continued to look at Vanathi, silently asking her to look at his direction just once, and, as if by some miracle he saw her eyes meet his own with a playful smile playing on her lips just for while because Kamsa Mama suddenly stood up, now wearing a mask and circling around Maya Kannan and the Gopis in mid-air, with the help of the cloth ropes just like how Vanathi did in the beginning of the song. 

Thom Thadak Thom Thadak

Thom Thom Thom Tha Thom Tha

Thom Tha Thakida Thin Thin Thom…

A different beat started playing and with it the performance also started to get a bit aggressive. Vanthiyathevan and Vanathi started dancing on opposite sides facing each other. They were mirroring some dance moves and at one point Vanathi lifted one of legs and swiped it over Vanthiyathevan's head, him ducking in time. Arulmozhi gaped once more. When did they have time to practise all this? And what coordination! They embodied their respective roles perfectly, taunting and challenging each other. And after a while, both of them were again in mid-air with the Gopis and Rakshasa men in charge of keeping them airborne by pulling on the ropes and moving about. They were now enacting the Krishna-Kamsa fight.

"Is that even safe?" Arulmozhi asked, breaking the silence "That looks dangerous. I'm concerned for her". He didn't notice his Patti looking at him with  raised eyebrows.

"She? So you're not even a little concerned for Vanthiyar?" Kundavai asked from the other side.

"He has survived worse. He'll be fine" Arulmozhi said and Kundavai let out a gasp as if in disbelief of her Thambi's utter disregard for his Nanban.

"Kanne" Sembiyan Madevi interjected " Vanathi is stronger than you give her credit for and she has done sufficient practise with those ropes so she'll be fine. You don't have to worry about her " 

"I wasn't worried. I was just curious, "Arulmozhi said, attempting to look disinterested.lo

"Your facial expressions and your words are not at all matching, Thambi " Kundavai mocked him before Madevi quietened the two to watch the final part of the performance.

Now, Maya Kannan and Kamsa Mama was circling with their hands intertwined, showing a wrestling action and then Kamsa lies flat and is slowly lowered to the ground with Kanna acting as if beating on his chest to show the Kamsa Vadh and the inner message of 'good will always triumph over evil'. 

The performance came to an end and the players all gathered on the stage with Vanathi and Vanthiyathevan in the centre. They folded their hands and thanked everyone for their patience and received a very loud round of applause and a standing ovation,even from the royal family. 

Arulmozhi still couldn't tear his eyes off Vanathi who was basking in all the appreciation - a new side of Vanathi that he only managed to see now - an energetic and full of surprises Vanathi.

*****

Vanathi hummed to herself in excitement. 

The dance had gone very well,and she had gained a lot of appreciation from everyone, including Sembiyan Patti once more, as well as both the Emperor and empress. 

She had seen Ponniyin Selvar watching her quite a few times, directly glancing at her, and she had blushed every time their eyes met. It had gotten to the extent that she had just turned into a ripe, red tomato. The smirk on his ethereal face told her that he was pleased that she had such a reaction to him. 

Did this mean that he liked her?   

‘Pochu, you’ve started daydreaming, Vanathi!’ She chided herself, removing her turban with the peacock feather, the rest of her hair cascading down her back in curls, an effect of all the work she and her friends had put to perfect the hair style for the dance. 

 She blinked at herself in the mirror for a second, before starting to remove her jewelry, when she heard footsteps behind her, entering cautiously. 

“I was wondering when you would get here, Akka,” she said, focused on her jewelry. “You never take so much time to come and see me after I perform.”

When Kundavai Akka didn’t respond, Vanathi knew that she was waiting for Vanathi to continue. 

“Sembiyan Patti told me she was so proud of me, Akka! You know how much I adore her. As well as Chakravarthy Appa and Vanama Amma,” she said, intricately removing her intertwined necklaces laid on the table. “But Akka… do you know… what your thambi thought?” 

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” 

That wasn’t… Akka! Oh Ishvari! 

She looked at the mirror, seeing Ponniyin Selvar’s twinkling eyes gazing at her, in all her open hair, less jewels glory. She blushed red, but could not bear to not look at him. 

She smiled, her coral red lips bright, and said, “Ilavarase, thaangala? (Ilavarase, you here?)”

“Maya Kannanai paarka vandhen (I came to see Maya Kannan). I didn’t expect to find the same mischievous damsel I met by the banks of the Ponni,” his eyes sparkled, as if reflecting her heart’s delight.

“I didn’t expect my yaanai paagan, ayya,” she blushed when she said ‘my’ but didn’t try to correct herself. Something told her that she could open her heart and tell him what she wanted to. In that very moment, she felt that he would reciprocate. 

“Your Yaanai Paagan has been waiting for you, my lady. Will you accompany me for a ride later this evening?” He whispered, holding something behind him, making her curious. 

“I will,” she said shyly, gasping when he brought out freshly strung jasmine for her. She looked at them, blushing again, saying, “Thevare?”

Calling him the equal of Deva made her blush red and look down for a minute, before looking back up at him. She gently took the flowers he offered her. 

“Wear them, Devi. They suit you,” with a smile that would charm anyone, he left, allowing Vanathi to mull in the surprise, the best one she had gotten. 

****

Well, she had been wrong.

This was an even better surprise. She was still wearing something similar to what she wore for the dance, letting it fall around her. However, she had a shawl draped over her, as is actual protocol for royal women. 

Her Prince approached her, seated on an elephant, the bare back of the animal letting her know that she had guessed him right. She smiled as he stretched out a hand to her. 

Gently taking his hand, she got on, blushing and eyes widening at the sparks that ran through her arm, at the contact between them. 

“Thevare.”

“Devi,” he whispered, his eyes taking in the beautiful princess like he hadn’t seen her before. He looked particularly pleased when he saw her hair decorated with the Jasmine he had given. “Devi, hold on to me. We are just going to a place I think you would really like.”

“Secrets of Thanjai?” she asked softly, delicately wrapping her arms around his waist, her head leaning against his shoulder, one of his hands holding both her linked palms gently. 

“Secrets of Arulmozhi,” he said softly, directing the elephant to the place of this mind. 

She relaxed, enjoying being around him, holding on to him and going on the elephant ride. He had given her everything in this single moment- she was as ready for the end of her life now than ever before.

They went on the elephant, reaching a clearing where the sound of water could be clearly heard. 

“Devi,” he smiled, gently patting the elephant down, his touch more than enough for the animal to obey. 

“Where are we, Thevare?” she asked softly, her eyes glowing in wonder, reflecting the Sun’s light in them, sending his heart into somersaults, ones he welcomed whole heartedly. Oh how she had changed him without trying to! 

Was this not love? Pushing your partner to be their best self?

“A place I found when I was a child, one that even Anna and Akka have never come to with me,” he held her hand still, taking her through the trees, reaching the clearing. Her gasp, followed by delightful laughter filled him with joy, and a sense of right. She was that rightness in his life. 

“Thevare, this is beautiful. How did I get lucky enough to be brought here?”

“I promised myself, Vanathi, that I will bring only the woman I wish to marry, the one I want to eke out my life with, here,” he smiled softly, feeling his hope blossom into surety at the glow in her dark orbs. 

“Thevare?” she questioned softly, not stopping gazing at him. 

“Devi, you have filled my life with meaning that I scarcely knew and understood before,” he said, walking towards her and grasping her palms in his.”You have stood with me, and not lost faith in me, loved me through my miscommunication and idiocy. In truth, I do not deserve you, anbe, but it is only you I want. Will you accept this fool in love, Kodumbalur Kula Vilakke? As your husband?”

“Swami,” she whispered, her palms hesitant at first, firm soon, caressing his cheeks. He closed his eyes, wanting to feel her touch. She held him gently, whispering, “Swami, open your eyes?”

He obediently opened his eyes, only his training preventing the sound of a gasp leaving him. Her eyes were luminous with her love, so open and joyous for him to see, that he wondered how he ever missed it before. 

“To be yours is the reason I have been born, Natha,” she whispered softly, tipping her forehead to his, making him smile and wind his arms around her waist, tugging her close into his embrace. 

“And I have been made to marry you, Vanathi. I love you.”

“I love you, Thevare,” he smiled at the rosy hue that darkened on her cheeks, not moving away from her for even a second. He held her even closer, pressing his forehead to hers a little more. 

Everything could wait, he thought, as they moved closer and closer to each other, intertwined, as if they had become one. 

And they had, that day, with his words of promise and love, and her words of acceptance and love. 

@ramcharanobsessed @dumdaradumdaradum @vibishalakshman @harinishivaa @hollogramhallucination @kovaipaavai@rang-lo. @willkatfanfromasia@thelekhikawrites@thegleamingmoon@deafeningflowercat@yehsahihai@whippersnappersbookworm@itsfookingloosah@gemsmusings@chiyaanvikram@elvenladysakura. @matka-kulfi. @madatdisney@bumblebeeskywalker@vahnithedreamer@nkarti@dosai-maavu@utterlynotperfect@winter-birds@happy-bookworm @tumbledout @anabanana4115 @freeunknownwasteland @bhataktiatmacore @rapunzels-stuff@celestesinsight@mairablue@rationalelderberry @existenceiswhateven @arachneofthoughts@spider5884fan11

#ponniyin selvan 2 #arulmozhi #vanathi #kundavai #vanthiyathevan #arulmozhi varman #vanmozhi #collab fic

[bigdumbbambieyes]

canto v (inferno) a harringrove collaboration with @hephaestn

hurt/comfort, 1.4k, rated T (she is the hurt to my comfort so we came together to create this, we hope you enjoy 🤍)

Something is pounding, crashing and thundering inside him. He doesn’t know how he’s got here, or where here really is—but he recognizes the smell as soon as his heavy feet climb down the stairs. It’s blood and chemicals. It’s fear and pain.

He can smell all of it on him, too, but there’s nothing he can do to stop the smell. He can’t drive back home and get a warm shower. Because it likes it cold.

God, he’s cold. His vacant, powerless hands feel frozen—like when he first touched snow in this forsaken town. His feet feel wet but, is it water he’s stepping on? It doesn’t feel like it.

There’s a drip somewhere. It falls, slow and constant, splashing onto whatever surface it’s hitting, but is it water? He doesn’t believe it can be water anymore.

He feels that if he focuses hard enough, if he closes his eyes tight enough, he can hear something comforting, something beautiful. Something he once loved. A summer thunderstorm—pouring and pouring, dripping onto water-saturated plants, streaming down the asphalt on the streets. If he focuses hard enough, he can feel a pressure on his hand. Though his hand feels smaller now, like when his mom would take it in between hers and warm it up.

But he can’t really focus when there’s something pulling at him, pounding and thundering in his mind. He doesn't want to look, doesn’t want to adjust his eyes to the darkness of the room, to the thing in front of him, but the thing makes him look. And makes him watch.

The drip continues, falling and falling, echoing somewhere in the room as he watches a vacant Heather walk past him, making her way towards the demon in front of them. Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? The demon that has always been inside of him taking form in the real world—controlling him, destroying everything around him.

He feels sweat streaming down the back of his neck as he struggles to move even a finger, because he needs to stop Heather, save someone, save one person, at least. Why isn’t it taking him? Why them?

Heather’s mom vanishes in front of the devil, she melts in front of his power, of his darkness. Billy manages to tighten his fist. He’s done it, he’s taken control of something within him.

Drip, drip, drip.

Billy has to stop this. Heather deserves to live. She helped, she tried to help. If he could do it fast enough, if he could move a muscle—she would be saved.

The devil growls as Heather takes another step forward. In his mind, the summer thunderstorm is getting louder, he can barely hear the dripping in the room anymore. This is his thing, the devil’s. Billy knows what he’s trying to do and he’s fighting it. He’s fighting it so hard, he feels his chest compress as the scream he wants to let out is suffocated by the devil’s power over him.

Heather keeps walking and Billy feels like crying. He can’t do anything, he can’t.

Slowly, his tightened fist grows warm with that comforting touch he knew once. Heather’s taken another step and Billy—Billy closes his eyes with all the strength left inside him, making him relax his fist in the process, allowing the warmth to balm his tired muscles.

Billy shakes as he closes his eyes, he feels like he’s falling down, like the floor beneath him has completely disappeared, and in the shock of it his eyes shoot open.

He doesn’t recognize it at first—his mind still tracing images of the warehouse all around him. Billy attempts to tighten his fist again, and though it feels slow, his hand does as he commands. It tightens around the sweaty pillow under his head.

His breathing is erratic but he knows he needs to control it, to manage it so it goes back to normal. But there’s a dripping somewhere, splashing against something metallic.

Drip, drip, drip.

Billy tries to reason with his own mind. I’m okay, I’m okay. He recognizes his surroundings—knowing he’s in his room should help, but that’s when he sees her, standing at the foot of the bed, dripping in sweat.

She isn’t saying a word, just staring at him. Her face pale, her hair and clothes completely damp.

Billy shakes his head, tries to bury it in his hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he cries, but the dripping is still there. Is it Heather’s sweat or is it her blood? Her blood on his hands?

Next to him, Steve hums unconsciously, his face buried in his pillow where he’s stirring awake. He’s no stranger to Billy’s nightmares or the way he sometimes babbles in his sleep, but this is different.

The urgency in Billy’s tone, crying out like a babe in the night desperate for comfort, rouses Steve immediately.

He pushes his head up and blinks hard, mumbling, “Billy?” under his breath as he turns onto his side to face his boyfriend, his sleep-lined face scrunching as he gently grabs at Billy’s hands to keep him still, to assure him that he’s not alone.

Because he’s familiar with Billy’s nightmares, has been for years, he knows what he needs. Touch. To be touched, in whatever small or big way.

“I got you,” Steve whispers, his fingers closing around one of Billy’s wrists and feeling the thundering of his pulse match the roaring storm outside their windows, “You’re fine, baby, you’re okay—it’s just me.”

He reaches forward and smooths the pad of his thumb across Billy’s wet cheeks, wiping away the tears from under his eyes as he stares down at the blond, who stares up at him in return.

The drip of their leaky roof into the metal bucket in the corner registers in his ears just as the windows rattle with thunder. Their apartment is small and old and a piece of shit but it has a terrace that Billy loves and it’s theirs.

He gently pushes Billy’s hair back from his face and cups his cheek, presses a kiss to his trembling boyfriend’s forehead. “It’s just a nightmare, you’re safe here with me,” he mumbles against Billy’s skin, nuzzles at his temple affectionately, promising, “Nothing‘s gonna hurt you when I’m around.”

Billy’s body keeps moving with the spasms of his uncontrollable breathing. He lets his head fall onto Steve’s shoulder, seeking his warmth, seeking his boyfriend’s light to pull him out of the darkness he’s feeling in his chest. He feels Steve’s hand travel to the back of his neck where he draws small, comforting shapes with the tip of his finger.

Billy doesn’t really know how Steve does it, how he stays so calm and collected when he’s such a mess – such a disgusting, weak sight. He closes his eyes at the feeling of Steve’s light touch on his neck, letting himself be lulled into relaxation and safety as the seconds pass.

What has he done to deserve this? Why is he being comforted in the night by a loving, caring person when he’s done such terrible things? His heart itches with something he doesn’t really know how to describe, something that reminds him that Steve loves him for who he is, that Steve wants him to be okay, that he worries, and Billy doesn’t want Steve to worry, to hurt because he’s hurting. So, in a small, frightened movement Billy leaves a chaste kiss on Steve’s neck—the only way he can think of right now, through the fear and anxiety, of letting his boyfriend know he’ll be okay, of letting him know he’s thankful for his touch.

And Steve hums softly, happily, at the kiss. He knows how Billy gets after a nightmare. Sometimes, he’s so frightened he can’t bring himself to speak, and that’s alright. Steve knows. He loves Billy enough to know just how to comfort him, he’s taken the time to learn and be taught.

So, he trails his fingers down a little further, down the nape of Billy’s neck and to his shoulders, where he ghosts his touch along the skin there. Mumbles, “Love you so much, Billy,” as he presses kiss after kiss to blond curls and flushed skin. The more Billy relaxes, the more it soothes Steve, too. They’re okay, Billy’s okay.

Knowing how to get his boyfriend back to sleep, Steve whispers, “On your stomach,” to him and lets Billy shift until he’s there, his cheek pressing into his pillow, and that’s when Steve shifts onto his elbow so he can trail his fingertips down the length of Billy’s back, down his spine and shoulder blades. It’s the middle of the night, maybe near dawn, so they can sleep a little longer. They can talk later, about the nightmare, if Billy wants.

But for now, Steve’s happy just to soothe him, to chase away the pain and terror with love and care, as he always does.

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #hurt/comfort #collab fic #steve x billy #billy x steve #lu is such an incredible writer she is the queen of angst fr 😭🥹 #it was such an honor to come together like this and share the joy of writing!!! #bambiwrites #lu🕯 #mini moodboard made by lu!!

[five5ficsers]

“Have you seen this man?” she asked, her own Japanese unfamiliar and overly formal.

It wasn’t the best quality image, considering it came from a disposable camera. Three people were clearly visible, standing in front of a Chinese bistro on a sunny day. Lanfa herself, wearing a red qipao and a bright smile, stood beside two men in matching chef uniforms and braided hair. One man was considerably older and shorter than the other, his hair stark white, with a face wrinkled by a mix of time and affection. The other stood taller than both of them, with round glasses and a subtle smile. Lanfa’s finger pointed to him.

Her acquaintance leaned in to check―only to exclaim and lean back in shock. Lanfa watched a few different emotions play across the young man’s face until he drew closer again, this time stroking his chin as his face scrunched with concentration.

“What’s this guy’s name?” he asked with an air of suspicion.

“Long. Jin Long.”

He repeated the name slowly, attempting to mimic exactly how she said it, yet gave pointed emphasis to the first syllable. His arms crossed, and with a determined huff he nodded.

Lanfa’s heart fluttered. This was it―finally, something concrete. No more wishy-washy rumors!

AN UPCOMING BLOODY ROAR FIC PREVIEW WRITTEN BY @five5sixers AND @umbralplane RELEASING APRIL 2024

Preview header from Unsplash, edited by @umbralplane

#bloody roar #bloodyroar #long the tiger #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #preview #fanfic preview #collab #collab fic #collaborative writing #collaborative fiction

[starfall-spirit]

On the Edge of Losing You

Thank you @azrielshadowssing for organizing the Summer ACOTAR Writing Circle. This is my first time participating, and my first collab fic in general. I am thrilled to be kicking this off with my OTP, Feysand. Writers of part two and three, you are more than welcome to reuse the banner I created or make your own if you don’t like my theme.

Also a huge thanks to my beta readers, @deepsleep07 and @headcanonheadcase for the critique that really helped form this piece. Without further ado, I hope you all enjoy it!

Summary: Feyre and Tamlin are set to say their I dos on the beautiful beaches of Cancún. The problem—Feyre's wedding jitters have escalated to the revival of a crush on her best friend a few days before the wedding.

CW: None

Word Count: 3,318

Part 2 (@thegloweringcastle) // Part 3 (TBA) // Ao3

Chapter I: Do I Say I Do?

“Careful, Rhys. Someone might start thinking you have ill intentions.” He knew Feyre had sensed him the second he appeared on the surf, lingering a few feet from where she lounged in her beach chair that sat low to the ground, her long legs extended so her feet were cooled by the rising tide.

Haloed by the July sun wearing only her bikini she looked… He wasn’t ready to think about how Feyre looked. Not with that sun glinting off an emerald-topped engagement band she never took off. Not with her fiancé throwing a fit every time Rhys was within a ten mile radius of her. For someone who had secured an engagement and was beginning his vacation that preluded a disgustingly grand destination wedding, Tamlin failed to view Rhys as anything other than a threat.

He snagged a camping chair and set it so it sat parallel to hers and he wouldn’t have to get so low to the ground to join her. “You’re looking a bit pink already. You know you’re hopeless when it comes to tanning, don’t you?”

Her lips turned up into a small smile as she rose to a sitting position. “I took a dip earlier. And it’s been a few hours since I applied.” 

He took the sunscreen bottle from the pocket of his chair and passed it to her. “No need to be burnt on your wedding day.” 

Her eyes snapped back to him, the set of her mouth telling him she didn’t approve of the bitter note in his voice. “Rhys—”

“I know. He’s perfect and hasn’t shown any of the red flags I mentioned from the moment you met, right?”

“Rhys!” She was red-faced for an entirely different reason now. “You are my best friend, but it is not your place to worry about my marriage.” She took his hands in hers. “You are my best friend,” she repeated, “and he will be my husband in a matter of days. I want both of you in my life. But this tension between you has to be resolved.”

This tension. A kind way of putting Rhys’ loose tongue about all of the faults he saw in his best friend’s fiance. And Feyre, stubborn as she was, refused to listen to him this time. He didn’t want to control her. He just wanted her to see sense.

“Right. Call me when he doesn’t find a guy talking to you to be a criminal offense.”

“He’s protective,” she insisted, breaking eye contact as she rubbed the sunscreen into her arms. “There’s nothing wrong with protecting someone you love.” He opened his mouth to argue again. “I’m done with this, Rhys. We can speak pleasantly or you can leave.” She sighed, turning to bare her back to him as lifted her braid. “Help me with my back please.”

Fuck. After the conversation they just had about her “protective” fiancé? He really didn’t feel like dealing with the huffing and puffing today. “Feyre, seriously?”

“Oh stop it. It’s never been a problem before now. I always miss spots if I do it alone. If Tamlin’s your concern he won’t be back for a while. Even if he was, he’d see reason.” He didn’t think either of them really believed that. “It’s not a problem.”

No, it hadn’t been a problem. Then they'd gotten older and he found himself crushing on her. And that crush grew. They hit their teens and his sweet friend who was once all knees and elbows from too few meals was standing in her prom dress, taking his breath away. 

His mother had made sure Feyre and her sisters were cared for when she saw the signs the Archeron family tried so hard to hide. Things got better, even if their father took it as an insult until the day he died. Their father’s feelings aside, they made friends and had food in their bellies. And Rhys bonded with all of them. But things had always run deeper with Feyre. Her older sisters teased and teased her for it as children, but there had never been anything to act on. 

She had been objectively attractive, of course. More so than her sisters. But one doesn’t think that of their best friend. Rhys didn’t let himself think that way. Not until she came down those stairs on prom night. He could remember every detail, a girl of sixteen attending the school dance in his senior year. She was a vision in a gown of midnight blue and silver. 

He finally saw her as a woman he hadn’t been able to look back since. Even after he graduated and the world pushed them apart for years on end. There had been other women, college flings and bar hookups. But none of them were Feyre.

Here they were at twenty-six and twenty-eight, both a little wiser and in control of their own lives. And the honest truth was he couldn’t focus on anything around her. If she hadn’t announced she was dating Tamlin six months ago, he might have acted on those growing feelings by now. Yet here they were, lounging on the private beach in Cancún with a whirlwind romance dropping Feyre at that altar. If she couldn’t see the timeframe as a red flag he didn’t think anything would change her mind.

“Rhys.” 

Scanning the beach for the blond bastard, he obeyed, rubbing the sunscreen into her back as quickly as he could, trying very hard not to think about how he really wanted to run his hands over her. Slowly, not leaving an inch of skin unmapped. He shook the thought away. “There. You should be covered.”

“Thanks.” She offered him the bottle. “Need some?”

“Sure.” He came here to hang out, after all.

She leaned back in her chair again, folding one arm behind her head. “So, what took you so long to fly in?”

He chuckled. “Other than the fact I’m a full time professor in the height of summer courses, grading a buttload of essays for Astronomy 101? Some of those students…” He shook his head.

“Girls?” Feyre asked with a knowing smirk. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the rest of her assumption. “You’re the youngest teacher in the department, Rhys. They’re failing because they're staring at your pretty face instead of the whiteboard.” 

He snorted, not ready to admit there had been a student or two who scrawled a ten digit number on the back of their final. “Yeah, well, flirting never got anyone an A.” He squeezed her hand. “I got here as fast as I could. Whatever disagreements I may have with Tamlin, you know I wouldn’t miss this. I said I’d be there for you through everything good and bad. This fits the bill.”

Even if he pictured himself on Tamlin’s side of the altar every time he saw the wedding invitation on his apartment’s fridge door. “I wanted to ask you—”

Before she could finish, a high-pitched squeal pierced the air. “About time! Get over here!”

Feyre jumped as white sand sprayed up onto her, clinging to the fresh sunscreen. “Mor, really!”

He saw a flash of blonde before his cousin was barreling into his arms, giggling maniacally. With her traveling so much it had been an age since they saw each other. It had been her dream to explore the best of life overseas and it seemed to do her some good. But then, any freedom must feel like heaven, growing up with a father like Kier. There were many days Rhys still ached to throttle his uncle for keeping Mor on such a tight leash. The stern hand his own father took seemed forgiving when his cousin finally opened up about everything in their early college days. Feyre had been the one to pry it out of her, simultaneously convincing Mor to lean on the found family who cared about her so much. 

She was better for it now, bright-eyed and cheerful most days they talked in person or on a video chat. “Where’s Cassian and Az?” she asked. “They were here an hour ago.”

“Looking for some activities. You know it’s a crime asking men to just relax on the beach,” Feyre jested, picking up some sort of fruity cocktail she’d ordered. How she and Mor could tolerate them was beyond him. “This one’s only sitting here because he feels obligated to be nice to me.”

 He frowned. “You know that’s not true. I—”

“Rhysand.” He grimaced at the too-familiar voice behind him, ignoring Feyre’s glare and its silent demand that he keep playing nice. “So glad you could finally join us.” Though his gait could almost be considered casual, there was no denying he was once again using his own body as a barrier between Rhys and Feyre. “Enjoying your stay?”

“I just flew in, but I’m sure it will be a delight. Thank you for so graciously inviting me.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“If you two are finished,” Feyre groaned. “Rhys, can you walk with me for a minute? Just down the beach?” 

Tamlin’s body locked, a vicious glare in his eyes aimed at Rhys. How could he turn the lady down now? “It would be my pleasure, Feyre darling.”

She smiled, reaching for her dark cover up, despite the lack of wind and the noon sun beating down. It wasn’t his place to comment on that. Even if he felt it very much was his place to characterize the man his best friend intended to spend the rest of her life sharing a home with.

Feyre was silent at first, watching the birds soaring ahead of them. He didn’t pry, waiting until she was ready to share what needed to be shared. “I love you. You’re my best friend.”

“Yes?”

She swallowed. “So much of this has been planned by… friends. I let things go, when it came to the technicalities of the wedding. Ianthe has been… helpful.” He suppressed a snort. Just days ago, Feyre had been moaning and groaning about how Tamlin’s old friend and apparent officiant couldn’t keep her nose in her own business. “I just…”

He paused, gently taking her hand and squeezing it. “Are things okay? Are you having doubts?”

“About marrying Tamlin? No. I’m just feeling off-kilter I guess. Caught up in a whirlwind of planning and out of control. I just want to hit the pause button and make my own choice on something, but I don’t even know the first thing I’d change. I need an anchor. Something they haven’t thought of yet.”

He furrowed his brow. “And you think I can help?”

“Yes. Before Tamlin sticks it on Lucien or something. I don’t want anyone’s feelings hurt.” He cocked his head. “I don’t have my father anymore. And even if I did… things were strained when I got older. And then he died before things could mend. Rhys, would you walk me down the aisle?”

And if that wasn’t a punch to the gut. 

He cast a nervous look over his shoulder. “Feyre, are you sure?”

She nodded, lacing her fingers through his. “It’ll be fine, Rhys. He knows I want you in my life. I know things will get better for you two. And I should have some say in my own wedding, shouldn’t I?”

“Of course, but…” He shook his head. He couldn’t and wouldn’t try to stop the wedding. Feyre was smart. She had to know Tamlin well enough to feel safe if she had agreed to marry him. So he would step aside. He would do this one last thing for her, even if he broke his own heart in the process. “I’d be honored, Feyre.”

~~~~~

“You did what?”

She sighed as she opened the door to the bathroom. “Tamlin, you said you were going to try. You aren’t trying. Not even slightly.”

“That arrogant piece of—”

“My best friend, you mean?” 

He let out a huff. “Rhysand,” he hissed, “has no place walking you down the aisle. That’s—”

“That’s whose job, Tamlin? Certainly not my father’s any longer. Or did you expect Lucien who I’ve known for a matter of a few months to do it? Rhys and Mor and Cassian and Az will always be my family. They aren’t going anywhere, no matter how many fits you throw about it.”

“Your sisters are an option, of course.”

“Tamlin, don’t. What’s done is done. On our wedding day Rhys will be my escort. And you will keep your mouth shut about it and keep a smile on your face.”

“You have other friends, Feyre. You and Ianthe get along well.”

“Oh do we? I’m sure you know my feelings so well when it comes to tolerating her.” He reared back. “Ianthe will keep batting her eyes and paying compliments as long as you let her leech off of you, Lucien hasn’t even tried to hug me because you probably threatened to cut his arms off for doing so. Tamlin, you will stop this overbearing asshole behavior or I will not marry you.”

Faster than she could react, he lunged, red-faced and wild-eyed. His grip on her arm was bruising. While she was all fired up and ready to lay things out he had been stewing with every word. “I am doing what’s best for you,” he snarled. And that was the wake up call.

God, had Rhys been right? Was it taking the cogs turning just days before her wedding to see the red flags as Rhys called them?

“You are trying to control me. And I will not let you. Now let me go.” Seemingly in a daze, he uncurled his hand from around her wrist, the pale print from his hand beginning to pinken again. “I’ll be back later.”

“Feyre.”

“I said I’ll be back,” she snapped, shoving her feet into her flip-flops. “Do not follow me and do not send Lucien like some hound on my trail. I need some space.”

One thing. She asked one thing of this wedding and it was that her best friend be more than another name on the absurdly long guest list. What a crime it was. Down where the beach started to soften, she removed her shoes, letting the sand sift through her toes. Minutes or miles she walked with nothing more than her thoughts and a nocturnal choir around her. While the silence might have bothered most, She had always found peace in a quiet night.

Feyre sank to the sand, leaning back on her hands and tilting her head to view the sky above her. She was lucky the busy lights were on the other side of the resort. Here on their side, even with the light pollution day and night she had a chance to enjoy the star-flecked unknown. She was hopeless to identify constellations without her favorite astronomy professor of course, but they were still pretty to look at alone.

“You can see Lupus from here.” She jumped slightly, whipping her head over her shoulder. “Sorry if I startled you. Can I sit with you?” Rhys asked.

“Always.” She sat up so they could sit shoulder to shoulder and he reached for her hand, frowning when she jolted away and rubbed it instinctively. The tenderness there scared her more than she wanted to admit. And Rhys was staring. “What?”

“What’s wrong with your hand?”

“Nothing.”

“Feyre.”

“Rhys.”

“I know you too well to fall for your lies.” She bit her lip, casting her eyes to the ground, only looking back up when he gave a heavy sigh. “Ara.”

“What?”

“Ara, it’s almost straight ahead. And there’s Corvus there.”

“You’re speaking Latin to me.” He snorted at the frankly terrible joke, nudging her shoulder good-naturedly. She slumped against him, exhaustion taking over. “You’re going to have to carry me back,” she mumbled. “In the morning.” He tensed beside her. “I can’t go back there tonight. It would just be weird.”

“Why?” She shrugged. “Feyre.”

“He doesn’t like you.”

His lip curled slightly against her head. “I think I’ll survive.”

“We were fighting over it. You. All of you. He has his bubble, and if he can’t control the people in it… I didn’t realize how deep it ran until I told him you would give me away. I’ve never seen him so…”

The word hung between them as he reached for her wrist again. She wondered if it would bruise by morning. If Ianthe would try to dab a bit of powder over it before Mor showed up and had a cow. Feyre didn’t know what she would do at that point.

“He’s been stressed lately. Between the wedding and work and—”

“Do not make excuses for him.” The edge in his voice put a new heaviness between them. “Do not pretend this is okay, Feyre. You want to know why you’ve never seen him so violent? It’s because cowards like that need control to feel they hold the power. That they’re worth something. He let you speak your mind this long to make sure he had you for good, but the second you say ‘I do’ everything is going to change.”

If Tamlin’s anger was the strike of a storm, Rhys’ was the deadly calm before it. Chilled as death even as those violet eyes glinted against the moon. He twisted in the sand, cupping her face and pressing his brow to hers, as he had done so many times to calm her from her panic. This time he needed that calm.

“Do not make excuses. Do not wait for that stress to go away. And Feyre, please do not marry a man who will free his temper the moment you kiss him on that altar.” 

She twisted her lower body to face him fully, stroking a hand over the short stubble at his jaw. It had started as a teasing touch when he was just old enough to start growing facial hair, later a habit she couldn’t resist maintaining. Until she met Tamlin and all the fond habits and touches earned scowls and glares. That hand teasing his stubble rose to run through his hair, a touch to sooth. It still seemed to work.

“All I’m saying is that six months is awfully fast for a wedding,” 

“Oh, is that all you’re saying, Rhys?” 

She pulled at his hair slightly and his eyes fluttered open again. If she didn’t know better, she would say  time had turned back for them. They were kids again and he was taking her to his senior prom, despite her only being a sophomore.  Coming home from the dance she’d joked on her front porch that they were at the point where he was supposed to kiss her goodnight.

She’d been the typical sixteen year old, crushing on a senior. Except that senior was her best friend. Romantically off limits was an unspoken rule of friendship to them, no matter what their friends and family thought. But for a moment—one fraction of a second—the world paused, giving her a glimpse of a boy that wanted to kiss her back.

She never saw that boy again.

Until now.

Days before her wedding he was staring at her like she hung the moon. Like she was the only thing keeping his world turning, as ludicrous as that seemed. But god, she wanted someone to want every part of her that badly. Looking into his eyes now, she realized all of the things she’d been compromising.

“Feyre, what are you doing?” Her hands slid down to cup his face. “Feyre.”

Every moral she had was screaming for her to stop. She was an engaged woman and kissing her teenage crush could be the biggest mistake of her life. And yet the devil on her shoulder spurred her on.

And Feyre listened, kissing Rhys for the first time. Only the stars could damn her tonight.

~~~~~

AN: I hope this is alright in length and content for the first part. As I said, this is my first writing circle fic.

Taglist: @goddess-aelin // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @reverie-tales // @acourtofwips // @jealousveronya // @darling-archeron // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow

#acotar #feysand #acotar writing circle #feysand fic #collab fic #part 1 #fanfiction #feyre archeron #rhysand #summer writing circle #acotarwritingcircle