#plus the little flash of Luke

[pochaccomikey]

💙🦋💙

#he is literally so adorable and sleepy #my angel boy #togepi #michael clifford #mgc #calum hood #cth #malum #plus the little flash of Luke #luke hemmings #lrh #afi #ashton irwin #5sos #lashton

[theemporium]

brothers bff getting quinnsick (homesick for quinn) once summer ends and they start long distance and it’s early in the relationship so she doesn’t want to bother him but of course he finds out

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

It hadn’t even been a month since you all left the lakehouse and you were already missing him.

Summer had been bliss, like a dream come true. Long summer days, warm nights and hours spent on the lake with some of your closest friends. It was the perfect way to relax after your sophomore year, and it should have been the perfect refresher before you headed back to Michigan to begin your junior year of college. 

But classes had started, the year was underway and you were starting to feel the summer withdrawals.

You tried to tell yourself it was just the dropping temperatures. Or maybe you were stressed with a load of classes and electives you were second-guessing. Or even just trying to navigate a world where most of your friends had been off to do other things, Luke included. 

And you did miss him. It felt weird returning to Michigan without him by your side. It felt weird that he was out with the big leagues in New Jersey with Jack. It felt weird not being able to just walk over to his place to annoy him. But you and Luke had history, you had years together and even distance couldn’t really affect the bond between you. Plus, you knew if either of you really needed it, it was less than a two hour flight to each other. 

You knew, deep down in your own heart, the reason you felt so down was because you missed Quinn. 

You could have laughed at yourself if somebody told you at the beginning of the summer that you would be moping around over the eldest Hughes brother, and yet here you were. You had spent a whole summer getting to know a man you practically knew your whole life in a way you had never experienced before. You had spent countless days and nights seeing a version of Quinn that made it impossible to not fall in love with him.

You were on cloud nine, and now you’ve tumbled into reality and it sucked.

And despite your best efforts, he could see right through you. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts before you glanced down at your phone screen. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment when you realised Quinn had been talking at you, only for you to have zoned out on him completely.

“Nothing,” you said before flashing him a sheepish smile. “What were you saying? I think I missed that.”

Quinn shot you a look. “Babe, I haven’t said anything for the last five minutes.”

“Oh,” was your only response.

“So, I’m gonna ask again,” Quinn started, his brows furrowed in concern as he stared at you through the phone screen. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” you paused for a moment before shaking your head. “It really isn’t that big of a deal, I promise.”

Quinn had the audacity to roll his eyes. “If it’s bothering you, then it is a big deal to me.” 

“You sound like a book boyfriend, “ you teased.

“Baby.”

You let out a sigh, slumping your face against the pillow on your bed. “You’re going to think I’m insane.”

Quinn frowned. “Why?”

“Because it’s barely been a month and I miss you,” you admitted, the words mumbled together as you felt your face heat up even more as the embarrassment washed over you. The last thing you wanted to do was come off as some clingy girlfriend. Maybe it was your own insecurities shining through, or maybe it was the fear of seeming like that annoying little kid who was just Luke’s friend to Quinn again. 

You weren’t really sure.

It was silent, causing the dread in your stomach to grow tenfold. For a moment, you feared the worst. You thought he had just hung up on you. You thought that was the big, waving red flag he needed to bolt. But when you lifted your head off the pillow, you were surprised to see that he was grinning at you. 

A full-blown, massive Quinn Hughes grin that made your heart flutter.

“You miss me?” He said it like a question, but it felt more like a statement. Because you did miss him. You missed him so bad, it was embarrassing. “Well then, I guess it’s not a big deal that I miss you too.”

Your face softened. “You do?” 

“I do,” he said, his words laced with sincerity. You saw his eyes lit up as he momentarily disappeared from the screen, only to return with his laptop in hand. “In fact…”

Your brows furrowed together. “What?”

“Gimme a second, baby,” he murmured, his eyes focused on his laptop as he typed away. “So impatient.”

You rolled your eyes.

“There,” he grinned before looking back at you. 

“There what?” You questioned.

“There, I’ve just booked a ticket back to Michigan to come visit you.” And he said it so simply, so matter-of-factly that it made your chest tighten.

“Quinn,” you breathed out. “You can’t just buy a ticket—”

“Why not? I miss you. You miss me. You’re my girlfriend. And I wanna see you,” he listed off with a shrug of his shoulders. “The season doesn’t start for another month, and I can work around practices. I want to see you. And I want to see you smile again.”

You let out a small laugh. “You’re insane.”

“You can say that to my face when I see you in person in two days,” he shot back.

Your eyes lit up. “Two days?”

“Two days, baby,” he said with a soft smile. “And then you’re all mine.”

.

#quinn hughes #nhl #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

[anon-sect]

Picture source: @its.my.shoez Instagram account

Drake would often see the coworker in the cubicle across from him wearing his shoes sockless. He found his feet hot and, at times, fantasized about them. But he was nervous to approach his coworker about his foot fetish, unsure of how he would respond.

One day, Drake decided to take a chance on it. He sent a quick email to his coworkers station. In the email, he told him about how hot his feet look and how much he would love to massage them for him. He waited for a reply, so nervous about what he would say or think about it.

Drake received a reply that was thirty minutes later from Luke. Luke told him to meet him in the private break room at noon to see how serious he was about his feet. Drake was excited and yet nervous at the same time. It was a reply he didn't expect.

Drake meets Luke in the private break room as directed. Luke propped his feet on the chair next to him. "So, you admire my bare feet, show me," Luke requested. Drake got to his knees and removed his shoes. He began massaging his feet for a good five minutes while Luke snacked on some fresh fruit he brought with him to eat. Sometimes, he would look down at him, massaging his feet and smile.

"Give my feet some kisses while you massage them." Luke requested while messing with his phone. Drake kissed and massaged his feet. He noticed that Luke's feet had a little odor to them, but he loved it. He began licking between his toes and licking the soles of his feet.

Luke noticed his break time was almost up. He rather enjoyed this little foot worship session during lunch. He wanted it to continue while he worked. There was only one way to do that. He pulled out his TF phone that he carries with him sometimes. "I hope you won't mind, but I like for you to continue worshipping my bare feet. Hopefully, I won't forget to take you off before going home." He spoke to a confused look on Drake's face. He pressed a button on his TF phone, and a flash of light beamed at Drake. Where Drake once was, were a pair of clean van shoes. He put on the clean shoes and gathered up his old ones. Once back at his desk, he placed his old shoes in a bag on the side of his desk.

Drake didn't know exactly what happened when he saw the light flash at him. But he knew exactly what Luke had done to him the moment he saw a foot get secured on his face in a nice fit. The walking part further proved what he was now. Luke had turned him into a pair of shoes. Each step was cushioned by his face. It was quite painful to him, but probably felt good for Luke. This was not how he wanted to spend his time at work. He sensed that his senses were extremely heightened. The foot odor was far more intense than before. He slightly wanted to push them away but lacked the ability because he was now an inanimate object. He was forced to suffer under Luke's bare feet for the rest of the day.

Luke left his desk several hours later to go to the restroom. He was only gone a few minutes. When he returned, he saw the bag with his old shoes were gone from the side of his desk. He inquired about it from the coworker next to him. He was told one of the janitorial staff thought it was trash and took it. He went to go find him, only to find out the trash was already thrown in the compactor. There was no way to retrieve them.

Luke went back to his desk. That meant he would have to take Drake home with him. There was no way he was leaving work barefoot. It would look rather strange. There was a plus, though. Drake was really comfortable wearing barefoot. It's been a while since he found shoes this comfortable wearing without socks. He finished up his work day and headed home.

Drake heard the sound of Luke's car starting up. He felt himself being pressed on the break and gas pedals. Luke was leaving work, still wearing him. He tried to protest, but there was no way of doing so. He didn't want to go home with his coworker as his shoes even though he liked Luke's feet. He was a human being, not a pair of shoes. "My old shoes got thrown out by accident. So, I honestly had no choice but to wear you home. I promise in the morning to turn you back to normal." He heard Luke speak to him while he drove. His desire to worship his feet landed him in a precarious situation. He now only hoped that Luke would keep his promise.

SIX MONTHS LATER........

Luke's Van's looked so used up. He honestly liked them looking this way. Drake has been his shoes since he has been six months since he was humanly at work. He kept using him so much that he forgot to transform him back. By the time he remembered that he had promised to do so, it had already been too long. How was Drake to explain where he had been for six months? That would be a nightmare for his former coworker. It's best after all this time just to settle in being his shoes. In that way, Drake doesn't have to explain his whereabouts, and he gets to keep the most comfortable shoes he has ever worn. He just hoped his bare feet hadn't completely warped his mind after six months

Drake was loving every day his Master Luke wore him. At first, he hated it, but over time, he forgot he was ever human. He thought his master had bought him from a store. He loved being used by his Master's feet. There was no greater purpose than supporting his master with each step he took wearing him. He was always shoes from his perspective. He was always sad when his master took him off his feet and overjoyed when being worn. Even though it was painful being walked on or stood on every time, yet as long as his Master's feet were comfortable, it was all worth it. He was shoes belonging to his Master Luke. No other life could be better than this.

#inanimate transformation #foot domination #shrinkage #Vans sneaker transformation

[faithshouseofchaos]

Who are your favorite writers?

Ooh that a good question I have quiet a few

Starting with the moots

@vivwritesfics loving hooked on a feeling but shy has other great works

@toasttt11 — she got me into hockey and has really good hockey x oc fics

@norrisleclercf1 Nat was one of the first F1 writers I followed

@disneyprincemuke — Noelle is carrying the Logan Sargent tag in her back and we as a Logan loving society Stan her for that

@embrosegraves I love her kimi fics even if she only has a few

Now onto non moots

@lorarri — I love her fics I know she sees me quite often in her notifications

@enchantecafe I recently read an Oscar fic that was dirty enough to make a nun blush and when I say dirty and smutty I mean (I blush every time I read it it called my girl

@theemporium — has really good stuff here inexperienced!luke Hughes fic is 🫠🫠 and she has other stuff that really great Cece was also one of the first F1 blogs that I followed (I’m responsible for professor!Seb i think I’m gonna go resurrect him the the great beyond)

@starkwlkr — baby Ruby Jules has latched herself onto me

@charlesslut16 I once requested a Daniel Ricciardo x plus sized reader smut and news flash I still read it even if it was months ago

@thef1diary — little big fan is in so adorable we love soft max

@cheriladycl01 — loving the rookie prodigy series

@archiverstappen — love the cat sitter series

@fxrmuladaydreams — pornstar seb series is a must

@f1driverszona dark fics galore 🤭🫠

@lucyrose191 — I love her fics especially her kimi fics (I’m biased because I love that man it’s no secret)

#faiths inboxes 📥📨

[cabinofimagines]

Chapter VII; aftermath

Last chapter of the arc :) Let's see when I make the next one

Word count: 1.3k

<- prev - mlist - next ->

-Asnyox

You didn’t know what had happened, except by word of mouth. At one point it was like a wave went through the enemy forces, and what was left retreated. As they retreated, you forced Nico to take a moment to attend to a gash he had, before he left to go to Olympus too. You didn’t even consider going up there- the battle was over- you but your job wasn’t. You spend a majority of the day healing demigods, cleaning up and moving what could be moved back to camp. You spotted Nico every now and then, and afterwards you heard that Rachel Dare, a mortal, had become the new oracle. 

Eventually camp calmed down, funerals were held for those lost, and by word of mouth you had learned that the gods promised to claim their children from now on. Plus, new cabins were being constructed for the gods that had not yet been welcomed to camp. You hoped you would be claimed soon, but it was not something that was currently in your hands. 

If anything, you found yourself a little lucky to not yet have been claimed. It meant that you only had your friends, of which not many were lost. You could not imagine how Will must be feeling. Micheal Yew, the counsellor of the Apollo cabin had died- his brother, and so many had been hurt. Will said he would be fine, but something had gotten darker behind his eyes, his shoulder stood tense often yet he would not talk to you. However, every so often when you found him alone, you stood with him, offered him a hug and let him cry silently. 

The comfort went both ways, when you found yourself sitting next to him at the campfire a few weeks after the war. There wasn’t a sing-along today, but the flames of the hearth had slowly been getting brighter with the weeks, showing that the people of camp were slowly feeling better.

“For a moment I thought Luke had a point,” you admitted to Will as you stared into the flames, “And I just, if I hadn’t had you, I don’t know whether I would have entertained the thought of standing up to the gods.” 

“But you didn’t,” Will grabbed your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, and as you leaned into your friend you felt grateful. “Thank you for being there for me, Will.” you whispered, “I think it’s important to say this, but I hope you know I love you,” platonically, you meant it. “I love you too,” Will’s voice trembled, “and I am so glad that you were alright-” he admitted as he leaned more into you, not ready to face even the thought of more loss.

In the days after the war you saw Nico around camp- people greeted him and many even thanked him for helping with the war. You noticed he had started construction on his own cabin, and whenever you could you would join him in what he was doing. But as the weeks passed, Nico seemed to grow more and more distant, and one day you approached him when he was standing at the edge of camp you feared for the worst. You felt uncertain of yourself as you greeted him.

“Morning,” you noticed Nico jump up, “What are you thinking about?” Nico looked at you, and you noticed how in a short moment he put his guard up. “I found some leads about my family that I need to follow.” You swore you heard determination in his voice. “You’re leaving? Do you want company?” you quickly asked. You didn’t want to leave camp- but you knew how hard it would be for Nico out there and the thought of him being alone again pushed you to offer. “I am leaving, but I need to do this alone,” he looked at you, an emotion you couldn’t place flashed in his eyes. “Do you really need to do this alone?” you pushed, but outside of a slight glare and a firm nod Nico didn’t respond. A sigh left your lips, as worry filled your heart. “You could stop by though,” you suggested, “Rest at camp, visit friends,” you almost said ‘visit me’ but it did not feel right, not yet. “I will come by.” Nico promised. “And keep me updated?” You saw Nico’s head turn your way, “I’ll be worried about you.” Nico’s heart stammered in his chest, and before he could get out a snarky comment he felt his face heat up as he looked into your eyes. Someone who was worried about him, a friend? Nico just realised that your feelings of friendship were returned by him. Yeah, he could use that. “Only because you asked,” Nico turned away again, “I will keep you informed.” 

Will had scolded you for letting Nico go- something about wanting to befriend the boy himself, although you noticed how Will always seemed nervous to approach Nico. After a while Nico did return, and he kept his promise to keep you in the loop. However, he seemed more jumpy at camp- and he barely approached the campers left at camp. Instead he seemed to shy away from contact with them, and before you could even broach the subject, Percy Jackson disappeared. And you knew Nico would try to leave again. 

“Nico, you don’t need to leave, you have a place here!” you pleaded for your friend to stay- he might not consider you his friend, but you certainly considered him yours. 

“You don’t understand,” Nico growled, “There is nothing here for me, nobody wants to talk with death incarnate!” his words stung. Weren’t you talking to him right now? “Maybe I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try to help you,” You tried to reason, but Nico saw none. “Help me? That’s rotten work,” “Not for me! Nico you need people in your life, please,” you wanted to tell him you wanted him in your life- that Will wanted to befriend him, that he wasn’t alone. “I hurt the people in my life, (Y/n), and there is no one who wants to be in it anyways.” “It isn’t something you get to decide, whether I want to be your friend or not.” Nico huffed, before turning away. He couldn’t look you in the eye anymore- he couldn’t believe you were so stupid as to want to befriend him. Nobody at camp liked him and he was sure that at some point, soon, you would find him boring too. Maybe it would be pressure from your peers- or the simple desire to hang out with someone who doesn’t reek of death.  Yet your pleas were for him to stay. There were more reasons as to why he couldn’t do that, and if you weren’t rational enough to notice how flawed he truly is maybe this will get you off his back.

“I found a lead,” Nico stated, “on Percy, or something, and that’s why I need to leave.” You hesitated. Percy Jackson for Nico had always been a sore spot, and you knew that this might be the most open he would be with you about the topic for now. He was sharing his plan with you, what more could you ask? “And will you come back afterwards?” You asked, staring at Nico’s back. Nico’s posture went stiff for a second, before his shoulder fell down again. Nico almost didn’t want to believe it, and he ignored the way his heart skipped a beat before answering. “If you’ll still have me, which I doubt” and he stepped into the shadows, disappearing from camp once again.

#request #requests #poly!solangelo #will solace x reader x nico di angelo #reader insert #x reader #xreader #SFU #admin asnyox #cabinofimagines

[typingdyslexiaisathing]

Cuddle Mammon (Obey Me!) fanfic

summary: just a casual night where Luke stays with Mammon and MC while many of the others are away

characters: MC, Mammon, Luke

content: casual talk, fluff, snuggles

Mammon found himself conflicted with how quiet the House of Lamentation was this evening. Since his brothers had gone with Simeon and Solomon to the Human World for some reason. Which meant that Luke was sleeping over with Mammon and his favorite human. Things had gone well. Making dinner had been a group effort to choose some human world pasta dish. While the dishes had been washed and dried as Luke talked about his favorite cooking show.

But then a storm had kicked up outside. A fierce storm that left the windows rattling from the wind and ferocious thunder overhead. Luke giving a loud squeak to jump and hug the closest person. Which had been the human exchange student as Mammon frowned up at the ceiling. "Dang. I don't remember there being a storm warning tonight. Unless the weather bozos didn't bother to do their jobs right. Might just give them a piece of my mind."

Luke gave another terrified squeak when thunder all but roared through the air for the sound to shake the whole house. The human of the trio flinching to note with a huff, "It was going to rain. But nothing said it was going to turn the intensity up this high." Mammon looked to his favorite human to watch them as they gave Luke a gentle back rub to help soothe him. So Mammon got a dumb idea to voice it out loud. "I guess we can't leave the little yapper alone. So we can all bunk in my room. As long as you grab your pillows and blanket off your bed to add, we should have enough to stay toasty warm." Luke gave a yelp to openly ask, "Wait! All three of us?! In the same bed?! You expect me to share a bed with a demon?!" But then another flash of lightning was immediately followed by a boom of thunder. having all three of them jump for Luke to cower and whimper out loud. So the human sighed to kneel down and scoop Luke into their arms right away. "Don't worry. Mammon is a cuddle demon. Plus I'll be the middle monkey for tonight. That okay?"

Mammon had his jaw drop open to exclaim, " I am NOT a cuddle demon! How dare you say such about the Great Mammon!" But Luke didn't look convinced as the human just turned Mammon around with a nudge from their foot to then shove said foot into his rump to make him walk. Which had the effect of Mammon openly scowling as he blushed. "Oi! Knock it off! I should hex you both! But I'm not interested in wasting my energy right now! So let's just get to bed already!"

It did not take very long for Luke and his favorite human to finish the brushing of teeth and washing of faces in Asmo's bathroom. With both of them leaving a little thank you note before they brought the extra blanket and pillows to Mammon's bedroom. Luke going wide eyed to see the shiny car and say, "Oh wow! I didn't know you had a car in your room! It's so shiny and sleek!" Mammon openly grins to help Luke with setting the pillows on his bed. "Isn't it a beauty? You definitely know quality when you see it. How about we go for a drive tomorrow if the weather let's up." Luke nods vehemently to then yelp when another boom of thunder makes the windows shudder. So Luke ends up moving the human and Mammon to the bed with light shoves. "We should get in the bed. We have to get up early and do chores before the others get back. I also need to make a shopping list for Purgatory Hall. So we need all the rest we can get."

The human amongst the trio crawled in to then scoop Luke up for a hug. While Mammon all but slid himself in on the side to pull all the blankets and covers over the three of them. His arms going around his beloved pact human to also take Luke's hand in his and give it a gentle squeeze. "Right. Sleep is now. Chores and fun later. Sleep well, Luke." The little angel is already half asleep by the time Mammon finishes to be dozing in seconds. Mammon raising an eyebrow to ask, "Did he pass out already? Shoo. Kiddo must have been so scared it tuckered him out." Mammon would get a hum in reply for his pact human to nudge a little closer to him. "It must be the amazing power of the Great Mammon. Cuddle demon extraordinaire." Mammon huffs to give his human a squeeze before he relaxes into the bed. "I will pay you back for that."

#obey me! #obey me shall we date #obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me! shall we date? #obey me! fanfiction #obey me! fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #Cuddle Mammon

[lovepollution]

Thoughts on TMMM 5x01 and the start of 5x02

OK, so I have only watched 5x01 and beginning of 5x02 (the flash forward and the bit until the opening credits) and I have...thoughts.

SPOILERS UNDER HERE

Being that when I write fic, I timeline everything to try and keep it accurate, it pissed me off no end that they suddenly decided to move Lenny’s Carnegie show to November (it was actually midnight 4th February, which I remember because it’s my birthday lol). I get that it was so that the Thanksgiving dinner could then take place, but surely they could have created another reason for a family gathering?

I liked Mei a lot, and I get that Stephanie was probably busy with other things, but I wanted to see her character develop more. Joel remains the worst, Mei being the thing that made him bearable now being gone just makes that worse.

Now, the flashforwards: I have enjoyed flashforwards in fic, but for me, they do work in the show. The beauty of TMMM is its period setting and the flashforward of Esther just completely took me out of it. Plus, Esther, really? She is such a non-character, but now we’re meant to care what happens to her?

I hate, hate, HATE the flashforward interview bit at the start of 5x02. ASP honestly seems to hate Midge because she makes her into what seems like a pretty selfish and not nice person. One of the things I love about Midge and Lenny is how they bring this softness out in each other, and that’s a side of Midge that makes me like her most, so to disregard that makes me angry.

I also can’t believe they have Midge and Susie fall out years down the line. Even Rachel and Alex have said the show it always about their friendship, so to have them end for an unknown reason (maybe more info will be supplied) really hurts.

Also, I do not need to know exactly what becomes of Midge once the series ends. I would be perfectly fine to imagine it myself.

As for the Lenny and Midge scene in 5x01: It was...fine and pretty much what I expect. I always love to see Rachel and Luke together, but of course I would have loved a little more, even a hug. I loved Lenny’s reference of Kitty and Midge saying “Lucky girl” that he was going to go and stay with her. ❤️ Lenny’s “Sorry I didn’t call” was sweet, but then for Midge to do “We don’t do that” was like, well sure, they didn’t, but they slept together, so surely that made things different?

Erm, that it for now, I think. I just needed to vent lol.

#the marvelous mrs. maisel #the marvelous mrs maisel #midge maisel #lenny bruce #marvelous mrs maisel #tmmm s5 spoilers #the marvelous mrs. maisel spoilers

[maristocratie]

Some of my PJO/HOO headcanons pt.2

I apologize in advance for the spelling mistakes, English is not my mother tongue, I will try to do my best !

Enjoy the reading :)

Camp :

In Chiron's office there are photo albums with all the campers, some campers have a lot of photos because they like to take photos and others less because they don't like to be photographed. But each camper has a photo of him in an album to prove that they have been to the camp. It gives a real existence to these kids and not just randoms demigods that nobody remembers. It also allows us to see them evolve, to remember good memories, but also for those who have passed away to leave memories for their families. I like to think that there are pictures taken during activities or just very ordinary and varied vacation pictures to remind us that they are just kids and teenagers who can take a break from their hectic demigod lives.

Jason :

Jason never realized how similar he and Luke were physically until he saw a picture of him. And that's when he realized why his first contact with many of the campers was complicated, especially for the older ones who had known Luke and therefore had a hard time dealing with Jason moving into camp. It evoked a bitter feeling in them.

If you think about it for Thalia, Annabeth and Percy it must be even more disturbing. I think if Thalia and Jason had had more time together they would have trained together at some point. Do you really think her subconscious didn't mistake Jason for Luke? I think this subconscious bias would have led Thalia to not hold back and lash out at him imagining a fight with Luke. She would have blamed herself immediately afterwards and apologized, realizing that it was her little brother in front of her and not the person who hurt her so much.

Now let's talk about Annabeth, Jason being a leader he is brought to lead the troops in battle and also during the capture the flag (even if the Greek demigods are more likely to be in free style than the Romans but that’s not the point) she must have had flashes of Luke in those moments when Jason was giving orders. The tone of voice, the way he held himself. I'm sure it's not just flashes of when Luke betrayed them but also when she found herself with him and Thalia at age 7. Obviously Annabeth as a child she must have done some small actions that lead Luke to give her an order to stop for her safety. This must have disturbed her even more because she has memories of these two very different periods that are associated with antinomic emotions. During these flashes I'm sure she must zone out for 30s before coming fully to her senses. Plus it also explains why she reacted so badly when she met Jason : first of all he was not the Percy she had been looking for for months and then he looked a lot like Luke

Finally let's move on to Percy. When they were training, just like Thalia he must not hold back his blows expecting to meet a pair of golden eyes ready to fight to the end. I can imagine the ball that must form in Percy's stomach after the training session. Realizing that his unconsciousness has taken over and that he could have hurt his friend without wanting to but also the fear that Luke has come back from the dead.

Jason always has cold hands and feet

Thalia :

Often when she sees her brother she has affectionate gestures like when he was a baby. She takes his face between her hands and pass her thumb delicately on his eyebrow or against his cheek and sometimes she kisses him on the forehead but that is usually when they are alone so that he doesn't feel uncomfortable and that the others do not discredit him. there is NOTHING incestuous in it I warn you I'm going to FIGHT with whoever read this WAY

She used to take care of her baby brother when he was very small so it is normal that she has these affectionate gestures with him because their mother was absolutely not affectionate with them and Jason was very small, moreover the small ones need affection SO Thalia is a great big sister 

Hazel :

When Hazel and Frank moved into their own apartment Hazel developed clean freak tendencies so the bathroom and kitchen are always ultra clean like the floor and walls almost shine. But just in these two rooms the other rooms are tidy but not like these two. It makes Franck smile because he knew her to be tidy but not that tidy, especially since he doesn't understand why she's so obsessed with these two rooms.

Besides, it drives Hazel crazy when Nico spends a few days at their place because he is far from being as tidy as she is and he leaves his stuff lying around in the bathroom. She grumbles at him but it never lasts because she can't hold it against him for long

 Annabeth totally understands that it drives Hazel crazy because Percy also has a tendency to leave his stuff lying around and look for it when he is in a hurry. They have already discussed this and often laugh about it.

Annabeth :

In Percy's car, Annabeth put in the trunk a small box with useful items in case of unforeseen events (first aid kit, flashlight, water bottle, blanket, lanterns to keep the temperature above 0 degrees if they have an accident in the winter and have to spend the night in the car etc...)

She´s more sarcastic since she knows and is dating Percy, she's on an all new level now. She can be more sarcastic than him if she want to play his game that's disconcerting sometimes.

Jason & annabeth :

If Jason and Annabeth had had more time I think they would have become very close and would have developed a deep respect for each other

Piper :

Piper and Leo have a close relationship, she is like a big sister to him. A little advice: don't take it out on him because even if he is totally capable of taking care of himself, I wouldn't want to take it out on Piper, I value my life. then if we think about it well in addition to being like brother and sister their goddly parents are married therefore they are half-brother and sister. This must have further strengthened their bond

If Piper had a phone, it would have a phone jewelry cause she’s a cool kid

She has personalized converses that were given to her by Leo for one of her birthdays

Annabeth & Piper :

You really think Annabeth and Piper can't crochet? You're wrong.

Percy :

Percy is a great driver, you can take your best nap in the car without worrying

Will :

We all know that when will comes back from texas he comes back with the accent but for me he takes the accent in other more everyday situations. When he's tired he speaks with the real Texan accent. It also happens when he talks to himself because he doesn't need to make himself really understood. Also when he meets someone from the same state he speaks directly with the accent and uses Texan expressions that nobody knows, like when chats with Leo. It's kind of like when you go back to your country and you can use the local dialect and everyone understands it without you having to think about it.

Percy & Will :

Percy and will have the most unreadable handwriting but will's is still the ugliest of the two. It hurts my eyes just imagining it

Nico :

As he grew up he started to feel a little more comfortable in his body and so he hides less behind his hair and his big aviator jacket and stands up straighter so he looks even taller

He let his hair grow and he wears it very often half up half down

He has black piercings in his ears

Hazel & Nico :

Nico and Hazel both have the cleanest and prettiest handwriting

#headcanon #percy jackson #will solace #nico di angelo #hazel levesque #frank zhang #annabeth chase #piper mclean #jason grace #thalia grace #leo valdez #camp half blood

[gaeldricge]

***Warning: there be spoilers!***

Things I liked about the finale:

- In the end, it was Rhaenys who decided over their house, not Corlys. She kept saying, "I'm waiting for my husband so he can tell us what House Velaryon shall do", when in fact she only waited becaue she wanted to do him the curtesy of being the first one to be told what they shall do!

- continued: Corlys giving that away when he looks at her pointedly as Rhaenyra thanks him and she immediately catches on. Oh, I bet part of her wanted to fling herself at Rhaenys and hug her bad! (I wanted to, lol. But the again I always want to :D)

- Rhaenyra cursing at everything and everyone while giving birth

- Rhaenyra inviting Rhaena and Baela to stand by her side as she holds her first council. This is...she immediately shows them that women matter in her realm, and also that she loves them like her own daughters (especially after having just lost her only biological daughter 💜)

- Rhaenys watching the Black Queen with pride and assessing her as worthy

- Rhaenys finally having taken Jake, Luke and Joff into her heart. Laenor loved these boys and wanted to be their father. Her coldness towards them in episode 7 felt so off, especially with Laenor still alive.

- Meleys, Vermax and Arrax leaving Dragonstone together. Damn, I want to writen fics of granny and the boys getting their dragons ready together. Also, I have a feeling she kept looking at them proudly as the three ascended into the sky

- again, proud granny watching Rhaena and Baela kneeling readily for their queen. It seems she raised them (especially Baela) in the spirit of making own decisions and not trying to shape them in a certain way. Rhaenyra as queen will be a great example for them that women are more than birthing machines.

- Oooooh! Anyone else noticed Rhaena's eyes flashing when the Blacks discussed which dragons remain riderless atm. I know she'll eventually have Morning, and that's nice, but part of me wants her to claim Silverwing.

Now more unpopular likes I have about it:

- Vhagar going beserk about Arrax makes sense. They remain wild animals. Arrax is young and the weather plus Vhagar stress tf out of him. Of couse he'd go a little rogue. Vhagar is old and battle ridden and he spits in her face. Of course, she goes "hell no you little bug". This is what happens when a little boy (Aemond) thinks a dragon - or any animal per se - is a plushy to be played with.

- Daemon unhinging. I mean, he's been unhinged all season long. His excess in violence is a central plot in the first episodes and the reason not even Viserys, who loves him, wants him to be king. When it comes to impulse control, he's only little better than Criston if you ask me. I appreciate it that the writers decided not to (further) romanticise his actions.

#rhaenys targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #baela targaryen #rhaena targaryen #corlys velaryon #jacerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #vhagar #arrax #meleys #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd: spoilers #hotd 1x10

[violettduchess]

Hi! Omg I was wondering if you could do a plus size mc headcanon (similar to the Curvy/chubby mc headcanon that was done for the new princes) but with Chevalier, Jin, Licht and Nokto instead?

A/N: Here you go, Anon!

Slightly NSFW

@queengiuliettafirstlady: This request overlaps with yours so you get your own post with Luke and Leon!

Writing after the cut!

Chevalier Michel:

He ignores you. Pointedly. You try to be friendly, to smile, to make some kind of connection with Prince Chevalier Michel, if only because it is your duty as Belle but whenever you try, his response is the snap of scissors, threads of communication cut short before they can even unspool.

Your first substantial interaction with him is an accident. Literally. Late-night foraging for something to read brings you to the library, your dressing gown wrapped around your curvy body like Aphrodite’s silken garments. By candlelight you search for something romantic and fantastical and most importantly, happy. The beautiful book ladder of carved mahogany and gold inlay calls to you and you ascend, hoping to find the perfect night’s companion in the upper shelves.

Chevalier enters, his immediate annoyance at you being in his domain evident in the bark of his voice, the flash of lightning in those midsummer eyes. You choose to pointedly ignore him much the way he has you. And then you spot the perfect book.

You stretch your body in a way the pulls fabric across curves. He is startled, the way one is when sleep claims you by day and you awake to a starlit sky. Confusion, revelation, denial.

Your fingers grip the embossed spine and you lean toward it: Just….a….little….more…..Triumphantly you pinch it between grasping fingers, pull it toward you. And gravity laughs at your arrogance.

You fall from the book ladder, prize clutched to your ample chest, dimly hoping the wooden floor won’t retaliate too callously. But you never make it there. You land in the safety net of strong arms, a broad chest, eyes the color of lazurite. 

Chevalier’s handsome face momentarily loses its mask of indifference, his sculpted lips parted in surprise. Heart fluttering like book pages in the wind, you notice the strength in his hands. One against the small of your back. The other gripping the soft skin under your thighs. You realize then that your dressing gown twisted itself askew during the short fall, the bottom hiked up so that his skin is touching yours. His fingers unconsciously flex and heat paints your neck and cheeks a blushing pink. 

It is the shortest of moments, a breath in the night, but you see something in his expression, feel it in the movement of his fingers, the glint in his eyes. Holding you like this, your soft body cradled against him, isn’t repulsive. In fact…..

He sets you on your feet abruptly with a stern warning, expression gone cold, mask back in place. Clutching the book to your chest, you hurry from the library, closing the door behind you, unaware of how he remains once you’ve gone, the fingers of his hand curled inward as if holding onto the softness they so unexpectedly encountered.

Nokto Klein:

You step into the ballroom and self-consciously pull on the neckline of your gown, fingers brushing against the soft, dark amethyst velvet. You can feel the way your chest fills it, how very, very visible the soft curves of your breasts are, despite the layered necklaces you wear to try and hide them. The rest of the gown flows like water over your body, rounding curves, revealing so much while still keeping its secrets. All you see are the beautiful people around you, glittering like fae, shining like stars, and you know you need a drink if you are going to make it through the evening.

His eyes spotted you the moment you walked in, watched as you hurriedly found a shaded corner, a shrinking violet hiding from the sun. But he sees you. He sees the way your gaze assesses the room, intelligence shining in your eyes. He sees the way you keep pulling on your gown, forever self conscious, forever comparing yourself to others.

He notices the expression of longing on your face as you try to mentally map out a path through the extravagant gowns and elegant suits to where drinks are flowing. He is clever and he is faster, sliding between people as an otter through a stream.

He approaches you, champagne glass in hand and you smile in gratitude. You take the glass and steal his breath in the same instant. He marvels that you aren't aware of your own beauty, the radiance that you exude, a smile that outshines every jewel in the room.

He touches you, just a guiding hand on the small of your back, and yet he instantly knows it isn't enough. He wants more. He helps you navigate the room, heading toward the balcony, an escape, a place with vivifying fresh air, with shadows and alcoves. His breath hitches at the possibilities those shadowy places offer, at the very idea of you wrapped in near-darkness, your body flushed and waiting for him. Nokto knows that no part of him will be satisfied until he has run his hands over the mountains and valleys of your terrain, has discovered the secrets your gown keeps coyly hidden, until the only sound you can make is the gasp of his name, until that smile is for him and him alone.

Licht Klein:

For a man whose name means “light”, Licht keeps to the shadows. Indeed his very heart is plagued by them. Maybe that’s why he is so drawn to you. He watches you from under his long lashes, the way you laugh, the sound full and vivacious, sunshine chasing at the winged demons inside him.

You laugh with your whole body, not the tittering, practiced sound of the court’s noblewomen, but a ringing bell of sincerity and warmth. You scrunch up your eyes, dip your head, allow the delight to ripple outwards. It reaches him, those golden waves of sound, blanketing him in the joy of your heart, even if its only a moment.

Heat rushes to his cheeks when he thinks of the other reasons he loves your laughter, the way your body moves, your chest rising and falling in a motion so enticing, so mesmeric that he can’t pull his gaze away. As the bee is drawn to a flower’s vibrant color, so is he drawn to you. All of you. 

You are on the terrace, Sariel’s lesson for the day spread out in front of you in the form of far too many books and scrolls. Forehead in hand, you sigh, the weight of information crushing. Licht watches you from behind a pillar, shadow once more. He longs to stride over with square-shouldered confidence and gather all you, every divine curve and delectable bit of skin, to him. To kiss you back into confidence as his hand runs down your spine. To lift the cloud of burden from your face and bring the sunshine of your smile back. 

Jin Grandet:

If he had to construct the perfect woman, it would be you. From the fall of your hair to the curves of your body to the alluring way you bite your lower lip while thinking, Jin is convinced there is no one as enticing. You were ripped straight out of every carnal dream he’s ever had and put on this earth to drive him insane.

It is a surprisingly blustery day and you are blown into the palace by an impatient gust of cold wind, shivering as you hurry into the nearest drawing room where a fire would be lit. Jin is napping when you enter, your teeth chattering, seeking the fire’s warmth. The thin cotton gown you wore was a poor shield against the plucking fingers of wind and tempestuous bursts of rain that caught you on your way back from the market. Jin wakes to the sound of the door closing and your hurried apology as you stand by the fireplace, hands held out to its warmth. You prattle on about weather and sneaky rainclouds but honestly, he doesn’t hear you. He isn’t listening.

He’s dry-mouthed, as he takes in your form, suddenly so visible through the clingy, damp cotton. It sticks to your breasts, the dip at your waist, the slope of your hips. It reveals the strength of your thighs and calves. There is so much to take in and he has to pinch himself to make sure he isn’t still dreaming.

You are unaware of the way he unfolds his long limbs from the divan, rising from it like a predatory feline from tall grass. He crosses the room until he is in front of you and the fire has nothing on the heat in his dark russet eyes.

One finger runs across the sensitive skin of your collarbone, his voice crackling with desire as he explains that he could do a better job than any fire at warming you up. His finger trails downwards, dipping into the intimate valley between your breasts, sending a cascade of goosebumps down your arms. He toys with the first button of your soaked gown, head tilted in question, eyes burning with entreaty. Say yes, say yes, heavenly creature. Let him cross the threshold, through the gates of heaven, and into the sanctity of your kiss, your touch, your taste on his lips. Please, please say….

“Yes.”

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @queen-dahlia @moonstruck-writing

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen chevalier #ikepri chevalier #chevalier michel #ikemen nokto #ikepri nokto #nokto klein #ikemen licht #ikepri licht #licht klein #ikemen jin #ikepri jin #jin grandet #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #curves for days #plus sized reader #violettwrites

[itsyourchoicedevotionals]

Stood In The Gap

“…Jesus said to the chief priests, temple officers, and elders who had come for Him, “Have you come out with swords and clubs as you would against an outlaw? Every day I was with you in the temple courts, and you did not lay a hand on Me. But this hour belongs to you and to the power of darkness.” Luke 22:52-53NIV

There are times that belong to satan. We can pray, trusting faith scriptures, quote God’s Word until we are blue in the face… that is the hour of satan. One such time was when they crucified our Lord Jesus, Yeshua Hamashiach. Another time is coming— the final hour of satan, the time of antichrist, and his tribulation.

Until that time we must be ‘the ones who restrains’… “For the mystery of lawlessness is already at work. Only he who now restrains it will do so until he is out of the way” 2Thessalonians 2:7ESV. I’m quite aware many preachers teach Holy Spirit is the one who restrains. My question to them has always been and continues to be, where is the scripture which predicts Holy Spirit is leaving? Each preacher has then pointed back to this scripture. Problem with their explanation returns to the actual language translations— a ‘masculine-feminine’ or ‘human gender nonspecific,’ male or female. Nothing like Holy Spirit Who is Spirit and part of the triune Godhead.

During the time of Nazi Germany, Hitler was considered to be the antichrist. The church thought we were at the end of the age, thus they wouldn’t pray away the events. Except for a few intercessors such as Bonhoeffer, or Reese Howell, a man from Wales UK, who led a group of intercessors, who literally stood between Hitler’s goals and the world. Yes, there were other nameless intercessors who stood in the gap… “I looked for someone among them who would build up the wall and stand before Me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not have to destroy it…” Ezekiel 22:30NIV. God will always look for His person who will pray and intercede on behalf of their nation.

Today, we have such people interceding for our land. Cindy Jacobs and Dutch Sheets being two leaders in this movement. Assuredly, there are thousands more praying as well. I know a little woman from South Africa, whom God has frequently provided the funds to come to the USA to pray. Jesse has been to every border crossing in this nation, both borders, anointing it with oil, while bathing it in prayer. She also goes bi-annually to Israel instructed to walk the streets and pray there.

Has anyone beside me ever wondered what the following scripture means? “I tell you the truth, anyone who believes in Me will do the same works I have done, and even greater works, because I am going to be with the Father” John 14:12NLT. What are the greater works than what Jesus could people do?

As I read our text, Holy Spirit dropped into my spirit— ‘Jesus couldn’t prevent the hour belonging to satan. We can. Reese Howell, Bonhoeffer and the other intercessors prevented Hitler from taking over the world, as the antichrist.

The cabal, elites, and globalists all believe this is their hour to rule our world. They’ve been busy putting their one world government into place, painstakingly so, over the last seventy plus years. News flash: God has His elect praying, interceding, repenting for this world because it’s not satan’s hour yet. Will you join the intercessors in praying away the darkness’s hour? It’s your choice. You choose.

LET’S PRAY: LORD God we pray for Your kingdom alone to come, and Your will only to be done in our nations and our world. You alone God love us and are trustworthy. Help us to trust in You alone, in the name of Jesus Christ I pray.

by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2024 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional as author. Thank you.

#Jesus Christ #word of god #holy spirit #god #lord of lords #it's your choice #devotional #stood in the gap #intercession #pray #prayer #greater works #restrain #love #hope #faith

[theemporium]

Imagine its hughes!reader again following on from your fic, and one of them sees the handprints or marks and are like wtf and he's just smirking in the corner. they have no idea and would never guess it so its just like their little secret (for now)

quinn and luke would be like, “what the fuck??” but jack is a whole new level of theatrics that she just rolls her eyes at

and she catches nico’s eyes cross the room when jack is babbling about how he’s scarred for life and needs to bleach his eyes when nico just flashes her a knowing smile and it just takes everything inside her not to completely melt at the sight

plus he’s pretty damn cocky at the fact he knows she’s got even more bruises and hickeys on her inner thighs that they don’t and never will know about!!

#cece answers #nico.thots

[daintyduck99]

 “you still wear that little bracelet i made you?” “it’s like my good luck charm..”  screams any Julie ship to me.

This is also for @invisibleraven, who asked for the exact same prompt!

Julie sits on her freshly made bed, patting the covers with a soft little smile.

If she squints, it looks exactly the same, adorned with a floral quilt from abuela and a battered pillow, plus the book she brought for security purposes, which honestly haven’t changed since she was a child (staving off boredom, the inability to sleep, or trouble making friends).

She never did need to crack it open back then, and she doubts she will now.

Though the cabin isn’t the one she used to stay in, it’s also incredibly similar, barring the artwork on the walls. Even the busted AC hasn’t changed, and she has to huff a laugh as she gathers her hair into a ponytail, hastily getting it off of her neck. She plucks at her thick camp t-shirt.

A trio of masculine voices floats through the nearest window as she forces it up.

“Dude, I don’t think this is our cabin.”

“It has to be! I know this place like the back of my hand!”

She smothers a giggle at the whuff of a hearty sigh before the third guy says, “Okay…”

And she gives them a cheeky grin when they waltz through the door.

“Unless your name is Kayla, I don’t think this is your cabin.”

Two of them stammer apologies, but the guy in the middle just gawks at her, slack-jawed.

A slap on the arm from the sleeveless guy to his left prompts the gawker to close his mouth, but his eyes are still big and bright and fixed on her.

They’re the second prettiest shade of green she’s ever seen.

He takes a tentative step into the room.

“Julie?”

She’s on her feet instinctively, racing toward him, and it all rushes back: the faint field of freckles blanketing his nose, his crooked grin and his bright, melodic laugh, his stories and his accent and the silly songs they’d make up. Feathery dark hair that he was always pushing out of his face and how pink he’d turned the one time he let her clip it back, studding it with equally pink butterflies, his ever-fidgeting hands.

Those pretty green eyes.

He folds her into his arms and she knows.

“Reggie!”

He graces her ears with that laugh she remembers so well, squeezing her tight.

"I can't believe—it's really you!"

"I can't believe you haven't introduced us to your hot friend yet," Sleeveless drawls.

The other guy snorts as she and Reggie sheepishly unravel. He's tall and blond, with piercing blue eyes.

"Okay, well, I'm Alex. And I assume that this isn't cabin fourteen."

Julie nods dazedly. "Opposite end."

Sleeveless clicks his tongue, turning to Reggie with a shit-eating grin.

"Before you say anything," Reggie rushes to say, "I just got everything flipped. And I didn't know Julie would be here! But technically—"

He flashes his wrist, and she nearly gasps.

A worn purple bracelet lives there, no longer too large but snug against his skin.

"That's my first wife, so show some respect."

She swallows, struck more sharply with nostalgia, the sheer sentimentality of it all.

"You still wear that little bracelet I made you?"

"Come on, Luke," Alex interrupts, half-dragging him out the door, "I'm going to prove that I know where you're supposed to be."

Their bickering tapers off. Reggie clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah. I mean, I usually carry it on me instead. It's silly, but—it's like my good luck charm. All those summers—you really were my first, you know?"

Julie melts. She takes him by the hand.

She flips her suitcase open to show him the red bracelet sitting on the very top.

"Yeah. Trust me, I do."

As it turns out, she's his only wife, which everyone coos about when they make it official a few summers later.

#childhood friends to lovers prompts #rulie #reggie x julie #ficlets with ash #yes Luke has mutilated his camp shirt already #julie and the phantoms

[quill-pen]

A Christmas Confession pt. 1 (Married!ScroogeXReader)

I know, I know! I said I wouldn't post up much more for the story and that I'd only do some requests and headcannon stuff, but since listening to that gorgeous cover of 'Come What May' by Luke, my brain has been fraught with inspiration. And when I followed through with it, it turned into something just a little bit bigger because I've been dying to write Ebenezer being a loving Uncle figure to children. So here we are!

Part two will come along in a bit and bring with it quite a bit more romance. *wink* Right now, enjoy sweet Uncle Ebby with some adorable little girls plus YOU!

Note: Remember, the main idea of the story is you are Marley's estranged daughter raised in America but returned to England to live (for many complicated reasons) in your early to mid-20s (younger half-siblings now included because I want to write father-figure Scrooge and the Cratchit kids and street urchins can't always be around). For the many complicated reasons previously mentioned, you have married Ebenezer--a dear friend--and are struggling with the situation because you truly have feelings for the man, but are convinced he couldn't possibly feel the same.

Also, too late for Christmas stuff? NOT WHEN IT COMES TO 'A CHRISTMAS CAROL'. If Ebenezer can keep Christmas in his heart alive all the year, then why can't I?!

Enjoy!

Pairing: Ebenezer Scrooge x F!Reader (married)

Warnings: None, unless you count pining and seriously adorable Uncle Ebenezer with cute kids.

Summary: Christmas time has come again! This time, (probably at the behest of the children) you and Scrooge have invited the Cratchits and the Huffmans to stay with you for Christmas Eve so that you may all enjoy a Christmas morning together. You and Ebenezer agree to put the children to bed so that the Cratchits might have a break. For once!

A/N: Don't worry--we will get Prudence in the next part! And as always, insanely soft Scrooge.

And if anyone has any idea what the other Cratchit girls besides Kathy (who by all rights would probably be Belinda IDK why so many names got changed in this thing) are, let me know. Because right now, I'm just naming them things that sound right.

Part 2

A Christmas Confession pt. 1

Arms crossed over your chest, you leaned against the doorpost and watched with a small smile on your face as Millie and the young Cratchit girls knelt at the side of the bed, heads bowed and hands clasped in the nightly prayer: “Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep….”  Once they’d finished the recitation, they went around the bed, each thanking or praying to God individually about something or someone in turn.  Millie started off the round: “I thank you, God, for sending us the baby Jesus.  And I also pray that my friend Betty in Cincinnati has a nice Christmas this year.  She told me in her letters she was wanting a new doll and a dress--I hope she gets them.  I would just like a pony, with Christmas ribbons in its mane and tail.  Thank you, God.”

You fought back the urge to laugh at that, successfully turning it into a quiet snort.  Oh, you’re adorable but highly tenacious baby sister!  Even at six years old, you could already tell you were in for a whirlwind of a time raising her up.  God help you when the teenage years came! 

A large, warm hand enclosed over your shoulder, drawing your attention away from the children to see Ebenezer standing just behind you.  “How are we coming?” he murmured, eyes on the girls.

“We’re just finishing up our prayers,” you whispered back.  “How are the boys?”

“Tucked in, waiting for you to come say goodnight.”

You gave him a look of disbelief.  “What?!  You mean to tell me you have that rowdy lot in bed already?  How on earth did you beat me?”

The silver-haired man flashed you one of his divinely roguish smirks, making your knees feel the slightest bit wobbly.  “I, my fine lady, am a man of many talents,” he whispered mysteriously.

Raising an eyebrow you smirked back.  “Hmm, bribed them with sovereigns.  I see.”  You tsked your tongue and shook your head at him.  “Cheater.”

Ebenezer didn’t even try to deny it, just merely burred that beautiful chuckle of his that stirred your soul.

The two of you fell silent and watched on as the girls continued on around their individual prayers.  Ebenezer’s hand stayed on your shoulder, a wonderful, gentle, steady, and warm weight that conversely sent shivers tingling along your nerves.  Oh, how you wished he’d put that hand around your waist and pull you into him, as close as a real wife should be.  Or at least take one of your own hands into it and twine your delicate fingers together with his attractively large ones.  There was no hope for it--you wanted to be completely and utterly possessed by him.  Not merely carnally (though that in itself was a major appeal) but in the soft, devoted, domestic way too; the way you’d see the Cratchits and Huffmans behave towards each other; the way you’d see couples walking the street act; the way you’d grown up watching your mother and step-father interact.  What you would have given to be totally and completely the woman of the house--to be Ebenezer’s woman.

But there was no point in pining for things that wouldn’t come to pass, so you forced your mind away from the concept and put it back on the girls, who were coming to the end of their personal prayers.  Millie added in one last time: “Also, God, I know I’m still just a little girl, but I’d take really good care of a pony if I had one.  I promise--cross my heart.  Honest.  Amen.”

Again you snorted, and you heard the man beside you rumble out another amused chuckle as well.  “She certainly knows how to work the system,” he remarked.

“Oh, she’s completely incorrigible,” you told him.  With that, you moved back into the room (regretfully slipping out from Ebenezer’s touch as you did) and approached the children.  “All right, girls, very good.  Now let’s get into bed.”  You pulled back the thick covers and watched as they all filed between them one by one.  

“We’re not sleepy yet,” Tilda and Maggie protested, despite snuggling in next to Millie.

“We want to stay up and try to catch Father Christmas!” Alice added enthusiastically.

An entire chorus of excited agreement went up from the girls

“But he won’t come unless you’re all sound asleep,” you countered, smiling the slightest bit.  Oh, to be a child on Christmas Eve again!

“Why?” sweet little Judith asked.

All five sets of eyes shined brightly up at you in innocence and wonderment, awaiting an answer.  An answer that you, admittedly, were a little bit stumped over.  “Um… well… that’s just always been the way it is.”

“But why?” Millie pressed further.

“Because that’s how Father Christmas’ magic works!”

You and the girls turned to see Ebenezer coming into the room, slate-blue eyes as bright and shining as the children’s.  He smiled and winked at you as he moved towards the bed.  You felt your heart flutter just a bit, the slightest warmth of a blush color your cheeks.  Thank God the flickering firelight would help conceal it.  

The tall man went around the bed and sat on the side opposite you, beaming down at the snuggled-up little girls in a way that made your heart positively melt.  “You see, girls, Father Christmas has a very special kind of magic that can only work when you are all asleep,” Ebenezer twisted up his face in a comically sneaky way and peered around conspiratorially as if he were about to relay a very important secret that only they were supposed to hear and then whispered, “because the magic is fueled by your Christmas dreams!”

You made saucer-wide eyes along with the girls and exclaimed, “Ooooh!” 

“Yes,” Ebenezer continued.  “That’s why you must all sleep tonight so that you may dream and give Father Christmas all the power he needs for his magic to work.  Why without your dreams to help him, he would never be able to travel the world and deliver presents to all the little boys and girls!  And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

“No!” Judith exclaimed, her eyes twice the size they normally were and so full of sweet innocence it broke your heart.  She clutched her dolly preciously to her.  

“No,” Ebenezer agreed with a serious shake of his silvery head.  “I didn’t think so.  So off to sleep for each of you.”

“How come we have to go to bed, but the grown-ups don’t have to?” Maggie asked.

“Yeah, shouldn’t they be sleeping so their dreams can help the magic too?” Tilda added.

That time it was Ebenezer’s turn to look stumped.  Clearly, he hadn’t thought that far ahead in his story.  “Um… w-well-”

“Grown-ups’ dreams aren’t as powerful as children’s dreams,” you came to his rescue.  “But we make up for it by helping Santa in making sure that all of the children go to bed on time so that he has enough magic when he needs it.”

“Precisely!” Ebenezer brightened, smiling gratefully at you.  Then he became very serious and stern as he turned to the girls again.  “Which is why you must all go to bed at once,” he ordered, poking a ticklish finger into each little girl's tummy, causing them to squeal with laughter.  “Because if you do not go to sleep, we will be failing in our duty to Father Christmas!  Understood?”

Still giggling, the girls all sounded off: “Yes, sir!”

“Very good!” Scrooge said, voice still gruff like a Sergeant Major General’s.  “Now, good night!”  With a devilish gleam in his eyes, the man loomed down over the girls and gave them each a good hard nuzzle on the face with his cheeks, evilly chuckling ‘good night’ over and over.  The girls laughed harder and tried to push him away, shrieking and squealing about his “whisker tickles”.  That only made him continue with more vigor.

You couldn’t help but laugh right along with them.  “Ebenezer, at this rate you’ll get them so stirred up again they’ll never be able to sleep for Santa!”

Laughing as well, Ebenezer pulled back to give you an acquiescent smile.  “I suppose you are right, my dear.  Without these little ones’ dreams, Father Christmas may never get his sleigh off the ground!”  With that, he turned back to the girls and leaned back in, only this time to administer gentle kisses to their brows.  Each girl gave him a return kiss on the cheek; Millie went a bit further to reach up and hold his face in place as she blew a wet raspberry into his muttonchop.  (The man grimaced but judging how he still smiled, he didn’t seem to mind too much.)  “Good night, my lovies,” Ebenezer murmured softly, an adoring gentleness in his blue eyes.  “Sweet dreams and happy Christmas.”

“Good night, Uncle Ebby!” the girls chorused as he stood to leave.

“Right to sleep now,” you told the girls as you too stood up and began to leave.  “No talking.  Remember Santa’s counting on you to help him work tonight.”

“Yes, Y/N/Auntie Y/N!”

There was still the faint noise of giggling and whispered chatter as you closed the door, but it was quickly beginning to die down.  Ebenezer’s magic had worked.

A mildly disgusted groan caused you to turn and find the man in question wiping at his spittle-slicked cheek with his handkerchief.  

You giggled and pulled out your own handkerchief from your sleeve.  “Here, let me.  Your silky thing won’t do the job.” 

With a grateful smile, Ebenezer gentlemanly bowed his face towards you.  "That girl is going to be a menace to society, I tell you," he said, only half-jokingly.

You hummed in agreement as you cleaned him up, still having to stand a bit on tiptoe to do so (lovely, tall man…).  "Don't I know it?  She is her father's daughter--George was a… character.  But I adored him.”  You gave him a knowing smile.  “Just as you adore Millie."

Ebenezer gave you a playful scowl, the softness in his eyes saying you were right.  “You’d better go see the boys now,” he said, once you’d finished drying him off.  “And then we’d better check on the older children to make sure they got themselves to bed.”

You nodded and put your kerchief away.  As you followed him down the hall, you were still thinking about Ebenezer’s story.  You’d never heard anything like it before.  “Where’d you come up with that?” you asked, looking up at him.

The man raised a bushy brow quizzically.  “Beg pardon?”

“The story about Santa’s magic fueled by children’s dreams.  Did you hear that somewhere or did you just make it up on the spot?”

Ebenezer smiled.  “Oh, that.”  He chuckled.  “Well, yes, I did come up with it, as a matter of fact, when my sister and I were children.”  A sort of sad haze came into the man’s beautiful eyes to mix with the happiness of the memory as he reminisced.  “You see, Jen was like any other child on Christmas Eve--well so was I, rather, for a while at least.  Apparently, our parents couldn’t give her a satisfactory answer as to why she should go to bed rather than stay up and wait for Father Christmas.”

“So you came up with the reason for why.”

“Exactly.”

“Did it work?”

“It did.  And Jen would ask me about it every Christmas after, even beyond the point where we stopped believing.”

You smiled and gently nudged the tall man with your shoulder.  “She liked the story,” you said.  “It is a good story, I must say.  Certainly much more fun than what we were given: Mama and George told us if we didn’t go to bed, Santa would simply pass right over our house.  It seemed to do the trick for us.  Although my final year of believing, I did sneak out of bed and stayed up.”  You laughed at the memory.  “Sakes alive, did I give poor old George a fright when he came down early to put the presents out!  He just about took me over his knee to tan my hide!”

“And I take it catching your stepfather was what caused your belief to fade,” Ebenezer surmised, looking a little amused by your story.

“Yes,” you admitted a little forlornly.  “It was sad.  I think it’s always sad when you stop believing in that sort of magic.”

“Yes,” Ebenezer agreed, also looking just a bit sad.  But then he quickly gave you a bright smile.  “But then you discover a new magic in making the old magic for others, and then you begin to believe again.”

“Just in a different way,” you said, understanding his meaning.

The man only beamed in agreement.  “That was a very nice addition to the story, I must say,” he said after a moment.  “The bit about adult dreams not being as powerful as those of children.”

You raised your chin a bit haughtily and flipped a curl of your hair with a smug smile.  “Why thank you, kind sir,” you purred.  “I thought it was inspired.”

Ebenezer chuckled at that.  “You know, I’d forgotten that story,” he remarked as you both pulled up in front of the door to the boys’ room.  “Until now.”  He had a distant, contemplative look in his eyes.

Feeling a bit bold, you reached out and grabbed his hand, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.  You smiled genuinely at him.  “I’m glad you remembered it, Ebenezer,” you told him.  “The girls enjoyed it and… and so did I.  Truly.”

Ebenezer had looked a bit surprised when you’d taken his hand so suddenly.  Now the surprise was fading back into warmth and affection.  He squeezed your hand back.  “Then I shall strive never to forget it again, Y/N.”  

There was something in his manner; something extremely soft and unknown to you in his voice and gaze; something that warmed your being from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.  For the umpteenth time, your heart fluttered--your breath caught in your throat.  You may not have known what it was, but you knew you never wanted him to stop looking at or talking to you like that.  Could… could he possibly- the thought was dismissed from your mind before it even had time to fully process.  No.  No, it wasn’t that; it wasn’t possible.  Ebenezer saw you as his very dear friend and that was all; he would never look at you or speak to you in a way other than that.  It was just fanciful thinking on your part that that warmth in his manner could be something more.  Merely wishes.  It was simply the merriment of the evening and the excess joy of the children rubbing off on everyone, enhancing every emotion.  It was the spirit of Christmas--that was all.

You shook your head, clearing off the daze.  “Well,” you said, clearing your throat before adding significant volume to your tone so you would be heard through the door, “we’d better go make sure these boys are asleep!”  With that, you, rather reluctantly, let go of Ebenezer’s hand.  And if you weren’t so deadset on Ebenezer seeing you as nothing more than a friend, you could have sworn his release was reluctant as well.

@the-house-of-auditore-frye @oldmanlusting

#scrooge 2022 #ebenezer scrooge #ebenezer scrooge x reader #ebenezer scrooge x you #slow burn #romance #uncle ebenezer #married couple #pining--oh the pining! #children on christmas eve #that one character you KNOW is going to be an absolute little shiester but you'll adore them anyway #babysitting? kind of? #GIRL--HE LIKES YOU--GO FOR IT!!! #Can someone explain to me how to use the gif thing please? It takes forever for me to find anything I want #Youtube

[bellaxgiornata]

Life Worth Living [Chapter Nine]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Original Female Character

[You can find the full summary and chapter list for this series here]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains fluff, angst, violence, PTSD, smut (Contains our beloved Defenders and lots of plot twists)

Word Count: 8.5k

a/n: So this is a long chapter! We get a Kilgrave flashback that might be rough to read (mention of sexual assault from when he was controlling Liv), and you also see more of Olivia's abilities and how they can help the Devil. Plus some sexual tension in this chapter! Feedback is always appreciated!

Sitting cross-legged on my couch, a large bowl of salad I’d made resting on my lap, I mindlessly stared at the television. I stabbed a piece of roasted cauliflower and arugula with my fork before bringing it to my mouth, staring straight ahead as I watched a rerun of a holiday baking show from last year. This round they were judging gingerbread cookies and I was internally wishing I had some myself.

Today had gone by slowly; Jessica was working a case for Luke, something she wouldn’t tell Malcolm or I much about. She’d been quiet all day after letting me know that she was on the case just so I wouldn’t worry that Kilgrave had gotten her. She’d also told me Trish had been radio silent ever since she’d taken a single tase and passed out when we’d tried to grab Kilgrave. So all I could do was go about my mundane life today; work, go on a brief run, shower, make dinner, and then hopefully soon have a restful sleep.

I hadn’t really heard from Matt either since we’d had dinner last night. I had texted him good luck with their trial this morning and he’d responded with a simple thank you, but that had been that. I tried not to think too much about it; I knew he’d told me the guy was probably going to walk free and that the man in the mask was going to have to hunt him down tonight in the hopes of getting some information. 

After I finished my dinner, I unloaded my dishwasher and refilled it with dirty dishes. I cleaned up the countertops and got myself a glass of water before meandering back to the couch. I stayed up watching another hour of holiday baking shows before eventually turning off the television and heading into my bedroom, sliding the door shut behind me as I went. I flipped off the light and found my way to my bed with the dim glow from the city drifting past the edges of my curtains.

Once in bed, I tugged the sheets up high towards my chin, shivering slightly at the cold mattress, before my eyes drifted shut.

°•°•°•°•°•°

The coffee sat half drunk in front of me. My mind felt fuzzy, almost like I’d come out of a haze. When I glanced up, Kilgrave was sitting on the opposite end of the outdoor bistro table. He was reading a newspaper, his own cup of coffee in one hand. When he caught me staring, he lowered the paper a fraction and smiled.

“Smile, little dove,” he told me. “You’re so much more beautiful with that smile on your face.”

I hesitated, wondering how I’d gotten here to this table on the back patio of this extravagant house. I wasn't even entirely sure where we were anymore: the U.S.? Spain? France? I could recall a few moments, images flashing in my mind, but they felt a little foggy and distant. Then I noticed the twitch of Kilgrave’s mouth, his head tilting more in my direction, his eyes narrowing slightly the longer I remained still.

I smiled wide, baring my teeth brightly at him. His expression changed from guarded to warm just as abruptly.

“Beautiful, little dove,” he told me. “Why don’t you come here and sit with me?” he asked.

My smile faltered for a moment; I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to curl up on his lap like a cat and feel his hands run along my skin, my hair, my mouth. 

The pill is wearing off…

As the thought passed through my mind, I stilled. He didn’t know, judging by the commands. Slowly, reluctantly, I rose and crossed the space towards him. He set the paper down and slid his chair back, gesturing towards his lap. Obediently, I sat. His hands began to run along my thighs as he leant in, breathing in the scent of my hair. 

“I missed this, little dove,” he breathed out. "I just wish we'd get back to you choosing to do this again already."

He pulled back, holding my gaze for a moment, eyeing me curiously as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Kiss me,” he commanded.

I fought back the surge of disgust roiling in my stomach. Quickly I leaned in, brushing my lips against his before pulling back. His eyes narrowed as he frowned. 

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Kiss me like you mean it,” he ordered me, his tone firm and commanding. “Like you’ll die if you don’t.”

Something sparked in my brain and I flew against him against my own will. My hands were gripping his neck tight, clinging to him as my mouth worked feverishly against his. One of his hands was roughly gripping the back of my head, holding me in place, while the other was sliding its way up my thigh.

No! No! I don’t want this! Stop touching me! Get off of me!

I could hear my own voice screaming in my head, but I couldn’t stop kissing him. I couldn’t get his hands off of me. I felt his fingertips rubbing over my jeans and a tear slipped unnoticed down my cheek.

I gasped a shuddering breath awake and realized a moment later I was being held, my arms pressed to my sides. Thrashing violently, I tried to break out of the grasp. I couldn’t see who was in my room, who’d pulled me up towards my headboard and was holding my arms so tightly to my sides. But I could still feel Kilgrave’s hands all over me, his mouth all over mine, his voice in my head. I fought harder against the solid form behind me, about to scream, when a voice called from just beside my ear.

“Relax, it’s just me. It’s Matt,” Matt whispered calmly, his chin hovering just above my shoulder. “I heard you having a nightmare. I–I slipped in to check on you. You left your window unlocked from the other night.”

Immediately I stopped fighting his hold, my breathing coming in sharp pants. I suddenly was aware of his muscled chest pressed flat against my back; he could probably feel the thundering of my heart against his own chest. His head dipped lower, the rasp of his stubble bristling against my cheek as he spoke in a whisper again.

"I'm sorry if this is out of line, and that I startled you," he told me, his voice a low, deep rumble–the Devil's. "I was on my way back into my apartment. I could hear your heart racing. You were crying," he said, gentle fingers sliding up my cheek to wipe away the wetness there. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I can leave, though."

He started to untangle his arms from my waist, pulling his chest away from me. I didn't know what came over me but I suddenly reached out, latching onto his hands with my own and quickly pulling him back against me, comforted by the warmth at my back. I briefly registered the hiss of pain he made but my panicked mind was just glad he was here.

"Stay," I said, my words a pleading whisper in the dark.

He locked his hands back around my waist, sighing lightly as he rested his chin against my shoulder, his head turned just enough so that his lips were brushing the bare skin of my neck. I leaned back into him, enjoying the comfort of his touch and the safety of his presence. My eyes drifted to the side and in the faint light peeking behind my curtains I could see the black mask lifted just up over his forehead. I released my grip on one of his hands and raised mine gently to his temple, brushing my fingertips lightly across his skin.

"Your mask isn't on," I whispered. 

He nuzzled against my neck, his lips grazing my skin so softly that a tingle of goosebumps rose along my bare arms. My eyes drifted shut at his touch; it stood in stark contrast to the feeling of another that had been on me in my dream just moments ago. 

"I didn't want to scare you, waking up to a masked man in black in your room," he told me. A breathy laugh left him. "Didn't work."

"It was more the waking up to being restrained," I said sheepishly. 

"I tried to wake you gently," he told me, "but you tried to hit me. You were screaming, so I tried to hold you. Was hoping…it would be comforting," he admitted before burrowing deeper against my neck. 

My hand slid further back, underneath his mask and into his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. I felt his lips part against my skin as he leaned forward into me.

"Thank you," I whispered to him. "I'm sorry for freaking out. I'm not used to having anyone around when I wake up, especially not when I have nightmares."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, his lips brushing along my skin with each word.

My hand paused in his hair and I tensed against his body. I opened my eyes and took him in; his face burrowed in my neck, the black mask pulled up to reveal a bit of mussed brown hair on his forehead, his strong arms clad in black secured tight around my waist, both of his large, warm hands splayed flat against my stomach, his muscled, powerful thighs pressed to the outside of mine in his dark pants. This was Matt–not Kilgrave–and his touch was gentle, caring, affectionate, wanted. 

"You don't have to," he whispered when I didn't answer for a while.

"It was about Kilgrave," I breathed out. "From when he had drugged me. When it was starting to wear off." My hand in his hair drifted quickly back down; both of my hands grasped the back of his and held tight. His fingers squeezed back. "He…he was…touching me…making me kiss him and I couldn't make myself stop. I didn't want to–"

"Hey, shh, it's okay," he said, shifting so his mouth was by my ear again. "You're here with me. You're safe. He's not here. He's not going to touch you."

I turned my head towards him, the movement grazing my lips against his so lightly I could barely feel it. He inhaled sharply at the gesture, arms tightening. He leaned forward in response, just a little, with his lips parted. His breath blew warm into my own parted lips, into my mouth. Slowly, I leaned forward and closed the miniscule distance, connecting our lips in a sweet, soft kiss. Our mouths moved carefully together, agonizingly, deliciously slow. I could taste the faint copper tang of his blood drifting into my own mouth. 

I twisted in his arms, inhaling deeply through my nose as I moved, turning myself towards him as our lips remained joined together. His grip loosened around my waist, allowing the movement. When we were chest to chest, I flung myself forward into the kiss, wrapping my arms tight around his neck and hungrily pulling him to me.

He broke from the kiss with an unexpected grunt of pain. I immediately pulled back, my arms dropping to my sides as I stiffened in front of him.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," I apologized quickly.

"No," he said between a hiss of pain, "it's not you. The–the guy I was interrogating earlier hit me with a metal pipe a few times. Got in a few good hits."

"Shit," I cursed again, worry rising in me, "are you okay? Fuck, I should have asked," I grumbled angrily. 

I began to slide off the bed and Matt reached back out for me, his hand grasping in the empty air. 

"Where are you going?" he asked quickly.

"Turning on a light," I told him as I crossed the room, flipping on the switch. "So I can see how hurt you are."

"Sweetheart, I'm fine," he assured me.

My heart flipped at the word and I paused, hesitating by the door. With the light on I could see him sitting on my bed, back against the walnut headboard. His unmasked face was cocked to the side, his brows furrowed over his eyes. There was a light frown on his lips which were still wet and a little swollen from kissing me, and that thought alone made an ache grow deep within me. I swallowed hard and pushed the thought away, focusing on his injuries.

I headed back to the bed, climbing on and crawling between his legs, nudging them open further with my own. He complied, allowing more space for me to sit on my knees in front of him. 

He had a small cut on his cheek and another just above his lip. Part of the tight, black fabric on his chest was torn revealing a four inch long gash; it looked deep enough for stitches but not too deep for me to fix. My hands carefully reached out and lifted up the hem of his shirt, raising it slightly. There was a large, angry bruise covering his side that stretched across part of his very defined abs.

"If you wanted me to undress, you just had to ask," Matt teased lightly.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the blush rising on my cheeks.

"You've got a few cuts. Some bad bruising," I told him. "I can help you with them, if you'd like."

He shook his head, reaching out on the bed and feeling for my hand. When he caught it, he brought it swiftly to his lips and gave my knuckles a light kiss. 

"I can stitch myself up later," he assured me. "And if I meditate I can heal faster."

Chewing my lip nervously, I stared at him for a moment. He'd lowered our intertwined hands to rest against my knee, his thumb dancing back and forth across my skin.

"I wasn't talking about…stitching," I told him awkwardly. His head tilted curiously to the side. "I told you once before that I can…heal minor injuries too. I can…help with some of these." I cleared my throat awkwardly. "I mean, if you'd like."

His lips pulled into a straight, pensive line for a moment. His eyes were focused somewhere near my shoulder and they looked deep in thought. 

"Will it hurt you?" he eventually asked.

"No, I know my limits," I told him. "I promise."

He nodded his head. "Okay," he agreed.

"You uh…you're going to need to take off your shirt," I told him, my voice wavering.

He pulled the tight black fabric up, wincing at the movement. It took him a moment, but with some help, we managed to get it off. I set the shirt off to the side and then turned back to Matt. 

And froze.

My heart began to race and I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. His arms were even larger now that there wasn't fabric hiding them; defined muscle that led my eyes up towards his broad, strong shoulders. His chest and abs, though marked with scars, were so defined that his skin was pulled taut over the muscle and I could see every dip and crevice. I could feel my breath coming in fast just imagining him climbing on top of me on my bed, his arms tensed as he held his weight over me. 

"See something you like?" 

I blinked rapidly before turning my attention up towards his face. I swallowed hard, embarrassed. 

"Sorry," I mumbled weakly.

He smirked, licking his lips. "I'm not," he whispered low.

I cleared my throat and rolled my eyes yet again at him.

"Half your torso is covered in a giant bruise and you're literally bleeding on my bed," I told him. "Are you really going to try that right now?" 

He chuckled and shook his head. "No, I just really enjoy hearing your pulse race like that," he admitted. 

I focused back on his injuries, my attention turned to the cut on his cheek and above his lip. I reached out a hand tentatively and stopped with it hovering just over his face.

"So uhm, to do this I sort of have to–" I cleared my throat nervously, "–touch you. Just a–a heads up."

His mouth pulled back into a devilish grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his head cocked further to the side. I could feel him focusing in on me, that familiar prickle I got when he did returning. Briefly I wondered why I seemed to pick up on it sometimes, but Matt's voice pulled me back.

"You have my permission to touch me," he said, his tone inflicting a double meaning intentionally.

I swallowed hard, ignoring the way his words made me feel. Instead, I lightly laid my hand on his cheek and closed my eyes. Focusing, I mentally reached out towards Matt, searching for the injuries. I could feel the familiar vibrating in my head; it slid down the back of my neck and to my hand along with a flood of warmth. I heard Matt inhale gently when the tingling warmth reached his skin. I could feel the cells in his body speed up; energy surging through my fingertips straight to them as they began sealing the cut. It was only a few moments before I opened my eyes and saw the cuts had completely disappeared as if they'd never been there in the first place. Glancing up, I saw Matt's eyes had closed as well, a peaceful expression lingering on his face.

My attention turned down towards his bare chest where the deeper gash was. Gingerly I rested my fingertips over the cut, hearing a faint hiss of pain from Matt as my eyelids fluttered shut again. This time it was easier for me to reach out and find the injury, leading the energy from me towards his body, into his very cells where they instantly began healing the cut at an amazingly rapid pace. Because of the depth of the cut, this one took a bit longer than the two on his face, but Matt remained still, allowing me to work as only a soft, peaceful sigh blew slowly out of his mouth. 

When I opened my eyes again, the cut had also vanished, just like the ones on his face. My fingertips lightly traced across the skin where the bleeding wound had been just moments ago; Matt exhaled a soft noise at the gesture and I bit my lip, turning my attention farther down to his bruised abdomen and trying to ignore the heat between my thighs.

I slid my hand down across his right pectoral, dragging my fingers past the defined edges of each abdominal muscle before I softly pressed my hand against him, palm flat against a section of his bruise. My eyes drifted closed again, trying to reach out my focus.

"Bruising is more difficult," I mumbled to him, searching for the injury below the skin. "The damage from a cut is obvious, this takes more focus." I frowned, mentally scanning the bruise beneath my hand. "I can't…can't fully heal this, but I can help speed it up. It'll hurt less but…you should still let your body rest before…going back out."

Matt let out a low grunt of understanding as I fell silent again. I focused the energy into his body again, feeling the warm vibration centered on my palm now. We stayed like that for a few minutes in silence before I opened my eyes. The bruise looked less angry, but it was still there, covering a wide section of his body. I reluctantly dropped my hand to my lap, looking back up at Matt. His eyes were still closed and there was a faint smile on his mouth; his body had shifted forward, leaning in towards me. 

"Hopefully that uh…feels better," I murmured.

I watched as he lightly nodded his head, his eyes slowly opening and taking a moment to focus towards my cheek. The faint smile was still on his face.

"It does, thank you," he answered quietly. "How do you…do that? It felt like–like the sun on a summer day. Warm and almost–almost like my skin was vibrating."

I shrugged in response. "I don't really know. My mind can sort of reach out, link up to someone else's. It's like our consciousnesses communicate on a cellular level or something. Tells mine where the wound is, where something is wrong, and then I can sort of like…reach out? Transport some sort of energy that I'm able to manipulate. It speeds up the cell's ability in your body to heal." My eyes darted down to my hands in my lap, fidgeting. "It works the same way as me giving commands to people; my consciousness reaches out towards another and pushes thoughts or actions into theirs. I've never really understood it; I haven't used it much in a long time. I sort of–sort of tried to not use my powers ever since…Kilgrave," I admitted. "Just wanted to be normal."

"Hey," he called out gently, his hands searching for mine. I slid them towards his, letting him grab on and hold them tight. "There's nothing wrong with who you are," he continued. "You're not like him. You're a good person."

Part of my lip tugged up into a small smile. My head raised, turning my attention to Matt. He was staring at me so intensely it was like he could see me. I gave both his hands a quick squeeze before letting them go.

"You hungry?" I asked him, sliding back over to the edge of the bed. "Healing you sort of made me hungry."

Matt chuckled softly, shifting on the bed and following me off of it. He began pulling his shirt back on as he followed. 

"I'm not going to ask you to cook me food in the middle of the night," he replied.

I waved a hand at him even though he couldn't see the gesture. 

"Don't worry about it. I'm serious, healing you made me hungry and a little tired," I assured him. "And after that nightmare, I could use a few minutes before falling asleep."

I slid my bedroom door open and headed towards the kitchen, Matt followed closely behind.

"Eggs sound good," I mumbled as I opened my fridge and scanned the contents. "Still have some leftover diced vegetables I can throw in them." I looked at Matt over the top of the fridge door, one brow raised. "You hungry?"

He let out a deep sigh and then slowly nodded.

"Honestly I haven't really ate much today," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "Been sort of busy with the trial today. Then was out…for a bit this evening. As you can see."

"Alright, that settles it," I told him, leaning back into the fridge and pulling out the carton of eggs and the diced vegetables. "I'm going to make us some eggs, you can head back to your apartment and get changed into something…" I paused, eyeing his all black outfit, "less conspicuous. I’ll get started on the food. Sound good?"

Matt laughed a little before nodding his head. He wandered over to my window and pulled his mask down to cover his face. I began pulling out a pan and tossing the vegetables in with some olive oil as I saw him sliding the window open and slipping out into the night, shutting it behind himself. 

I spent the next few minutes focused on sautéing the vegetables and getting the eggs scrambled and ready to cook. In the background I had the food channel on again; some Thanksgiving cook off challenge was playing and I was only half listening to it. 

A light knock at the front door startled me momentarily before I set the spatula down and headed to the front door. I unlocked it and found Matt, clad in a black tee-shirt and dark gray sweatpants tucked into a pair of warm looking socks. I smiled and stepped aside.

“Come in, I’m almost done with the food,” I told him.

He stepped into the apartment and I locked up behind him before hurrying back to the kitchen. I poured the eggs into the pan to cook and was about to ask Matt if his night time activities had been successful when I suddenly felt a pair of warm hands grasp my hips. Matt’s warm body suddenly pressed entirely against the back of me as I continued to cook. His left hand slowly dragged its way from my hip up my back to my neck, where his fingers gently brushed my hair over my shoulder leaving the skin bare. I inhaled sharply when the stubble of his chin grazed me there as his left hand returned to my hip.

“Thank you for healing me,” he whispered, his face hovering just over my left shoulder, “and for making food. It smells good.”

My heart was racing in my chest again at the closeness; my breath starting to come in short, breathy pants that I was trying hard to conceal. 

“Well someone should probably–” I began, pausing to swallow hard when the fingers of his right hand slid just a fraction under my tee-shirt, brushing against my skin ever so slightly. I blinked hard and tried to focus on the food and not what Matt was doing to me. “Someone should probably make sure Hell’s Kitchen's favorite vigilante is fed and not bleeding out somewhere,” I said breathily.

I felt him shift against me, and then suddenly his lips were on the nape of my neck, planting a gentle kiss across the delicate skin. 

“Then I’m glad it’s you,” he murmured against my neck.

He nuzzled against the back of me, his fingers tightening against my waist, as he brushed his nose into my hair. 

“You always smell so good,” he whispered.

I turned the burner off on the stove; the eggs had finished cooking and I was going to lose my mind if Matt kept touching me like he was.

“Like peanut butter?” I joked.

He laughed a little, pulling his face away. “No, not usually.”

I turned towards him, his hands remaining in place on my hips as I did. I watched his smile grow now that I was facing him. Feeling like he deserved a little taste of his own medicine, I placed my hands against his abdomen, careful of the giant bruise I knew was there, and very slowly and intentionally slid both of them up towards his chest. 

How in the hell does his body feel like this? It’s not even fair.

Biting my lip, I glanced up towards his face to see the smile gone. Instead, his nostrils were flared and his jaw was clenched tightly, the muscles working visibly in his cheeks. I let my hands continue up, resting on his broad shoulders, momentarily digging my nails in lightly. A sharp exhale blew from his nose as his eyes darkened, his gaze somehow landing on my mouth. I smirked, sliding my hands up both sides of his neck, though the feel of his warm skin under my hands caused my own heart to stutter. Ignoring the thoughts threatening to rise to the forefront of my mind, I trailed both hands to the back of his neck where my hands slid up, gripping onto his hair. Using my grip on his hair, I gently pushed his head lower towards me; his face dipped down closer. I could feel his muscles stiffen underneath me as I rose onto my toes, reaching his face better. His eyes fluttered shut when my lips very faintly grazed his jaw, his own lips parting just a hair. Fighting back the urge to just kiss his tempting mouth, I lifted mine higher, very lightly grazing his skin along the way, and paused just at his left ear.

I leant in enough to just brush my lips along his ear as I whispered, “Food’s done.”

And then I released him, abruptly lowering to my feet and grinning at the pained look on his face.

“That was cruel,” he pointed out.

“Mmm, you know, you’ve been doing that to me nonstop,” I told him with a laugh. “It’s called karma. Now, I can make you up a plate if you want to sit on the couch?” I asked him. “Probably would be more comfortable for you than my bar stools with that giant bruise and that knot in your shoulders and back.”

His head tilted to the side as he asked, "Knot in my shoulders?"

"Yeah I uh…noticed it when I was healing you," I told him awkwardly. "Sore muscles are not something I can fix with my abilities, though." I waved a hand to shoo him quickly, feeling heat rise to my cheeks the longer he looked at me like that while my brain forced me to remember the feel of his bare chest under my hands. "Go get comfortable, I'll get you food."

He watched me silently for a moment before he nodded. "Thank you," he said softly before turning towards the living room.

I headed to the cabinet to pull out plates and cups as he headed towards the couch in the living room. As I turned back to the pan, piling eggs onto both plates, I called back over my shoulder, “You want water or orange juice? Cause that’s all I’ve got.”

 “Water is good, thank you,” he called back.

I smiled as I grabbed silverware out of a drawer before walking the plates to the living room. I handed Matt his before setting mine on the coffee table, telling Matt I’d grab water in a moment. I wandered back to the kitchen and filled up two cups before bringing them back and informing Matt where his was located before him. Then I plopped onto the couch, plate in hand, and curled my legs up under me. Beginning to eat, my eyes glanced back at the cooking show I had playing.

“In all seriousness, thank you for…all of this,” he said sincerely. “I’m not exactly used to anyone taking care of me.”

“Really, it’s no problem,” I told him. “Just happy to help. I’m really appreciative of the late night company. Makes me feel a little better.”

He turned towards me, a small smile on his lips. “I’m glad I can make you feel better, Olivia.” He took another bite of food and then quickly said, “This is really good by the way.”

“You’re just saying that so I make the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen some more late night snacks,” I teased.

He laughed and shook his head. “No, I’m being serious.”

“Well thank you,” I said. “Seems like high praise coming from a guy with heightened senses.”

“It is,” he teased me back.

We fell into a few minutes of silence as we continued to eat. My eyes drifted to the TV again as Matt was seemingly partially paying attention to it but clearly in thought.

“Did you find out what you needed to tonight?” I asked him after a while, breaking the silence.

“Yes, I did,” he answered, his tone darker than it had been all night. “I got a name. Wilson Fisk.”

I shook my head, spearing another egg on my plate. “Never heard of him before, but I also haven’t been here long.”

“I’ve never heard of him either,” Matt told me.

I swallowed the bite of food I was chewing, eyeing him carefully from the corner of my eye. “So that means more late night activities?”

“Yeah,” he said simply.

I nodded, chasing a chunk of red bell pepper around my plate with my fork. “Just uh…be careful, please?” I asked him hesitantly. “I’d…like you to stay breathing.”

Matt’s head inclined in my direction, his eyes focusing somewhere along my jaw. His mouth twitched a bit, as if he was thinking of how to respond. 

“I will,” he told me after a moment.

We finished the food in silence and I cleared both our plates before adding them to the dishwasher. As I turned towards the living room, I paused for a moment, enjoying the sight of Matt sitting there with one arm tossed over the back of the couch, relaxed, as if he belonged there. Exhaling a soft, shaky breath, I made my way back into the living room and towards the couch, about to return to my spot. I stopped in front of the couch before I sat, momentarily contemplating the space beside Matt. I bit the inside of my cheek nervously before shrugging–we’d already been kissing earlier, why couldn’t I sit next to him?

I took a step over and sat down beside him, smiling faintly when his arm on the back of the couch instantly lowered onto my shoulders, pulling me in closer towards him so my head was resting against his shoulder. I pulled my legs up underneath me and sighed contentedly. 

“I like this,” I whispered hesitantly.

His head turned a fraction towards me. “Like what?” he whispered back.

My arms slowly wrapped around him as I pulled myself a bit closer to his warm body. My hands rested along his lower back and his hip and I struggled not to focus on the solid feel of him beneath my hands yet again. Or the thought that snuck its way into my head telling me I shouldn't be doing this, not now with Kilgrave still somewhere out there.

“This,” I reiterated slowly, cautiously. “Sitting here, like this, with you.”

It was a moment before Matt said, “I like this, too.”

I smiled warmly as my attention returned to the television show. The contestants were making a turkey dish now.

“So no cheesy Christmas romance movie tonight?” Matt asked, catching my attention.

“No,” I said, laughing against his shoulder. “Not tonight. We just have some Thanksgiving cookoff. And honestly the potato dish that one guy made in the last round sounded really damn good.”

Matt’s chest vibrated beneath me with his chuckle. I felt his hand land on my head, softly running his fingers through my hair. My eyes slowly fell closed, reveling in the unfamiliar feeling of such a sweet touch. My body felt like it was melting against his on the couch with the way his fingertips lightly dragged across my scalp before sliding their way down my blonde strands. And then his hand rose and repeated the motion, deliberate and comforting with the way his fingertips gently touched me. A faint sigh left my traitorous mouth, but I was too relaxed to feel embarrassed at the moment.

“What’s your favorite Thanksgiving dish?” he suddenly asked.

My eyes immediately flew open, my stomach twisting at his question. My body stiffened as images of my cell at The Facility came back to me followed by many Thanksgivings spent heating up a frozen pizza, alone in my apartment in Alaska. A deep frown crossed my lips, my hands tightening into fists against him.

“I uhm…I’ve never had a Thanksgiving…before,” I admitted quietly. "Or anyone to celebrate with."

His hand paused for a moment in my hair before it resumed its ministrations. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Maybe this year we’ll have to change that. Foggy, Karen, and I were thinking about getting together and doing something. If you’d like to join, I’m sure they’d love you to. I know I would.”

I tilted my head up towards him, taking in the serious expression on his face as he stared down at me. He had no idea what he was offering me–connection, friendship, acceptance, hope. Hope that things could be different here in New York for me.

“I’d like that. Thank you,” I whispered, voice thick with emotion.

He leaned forward and pressed a warm, affectionate kiss to my forehead before pulling back and smiling down at me.

“So, Murdock, what’s your favorite Thanksgiving dish then?” I asked abruptly, trying to change the topic and push my emotions back down.

“Well,” he began, “believe it or not my dad made a mean pumpkin pie when I was a kid.”

I laughed. “Did he now?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling fondly as he stared off towards the television. “Unfortunately neither Foggy nor I can bake, so I haven’t had a good homemade pumpkin pie in a long time.”

I snuggled in tighter against him, grinning. “Maybe this year we’ll have to change that, too,” I told him.

I felt him lean over and place a kiss in my hair. He pulled back just a fraction and murmured, “I’d like that. Thank you.”

I could feel my heart begin racing in my chest at the feel of his lips against the top of my head. My eyes drifted closed again, relaxing into the feeling of safety with his strong, warm body beside me. I felt him shift slightly and heard the just barely audible grunt of discomfort. My eyes flew open and I pulled back, staring up at him for a moment, chewing my lip nervously.

"What?" he asked softly, his head turning towards me.

Fuck it.

I pulled away from him, noting the way his face fell and his eyebrows drew together in confusion. 

"What're you–"

"Turn," I ordered him firmly.

My hands landed on his left arm and shoulder, lightly tugging on him. He made a confused noise and I pulled against him harder. Eventually he shifted, grimacing a little. I slid my right leg up on the couch, maneuvering it between the back of the couch and the right side of his body, the front of him now facing the armrest. I carefully slid myself in behind him on the couch with him between my legs, the position similar to how he'd been with me when I'd woken up from my nightmare awhile ago. I tried hard to ignore how he felt with my thighs trapping him between me and his ass now just barely pressed against the front of me.

He turned back over his shoulder, brows still deeply furrowed in confusion as he looked back at me. Forcing myself to just be bold–and telling myself this was definitely not meant to be sexual–I carefully placed my hands flat against his upper back before sliding them up towards his shoulders. My hands began to knead the tight muscles in his shoulders. His reaction was almost immediate; a sound like a sigh and a moan blew roughly out of his mouth as he drooped forward into himself, shoulders slumping under my hands.

Swallowing hard, I quietly explained, "Your muscles are tight. I told you I noticed it earlier but I can't heal sore muscles with my abilities." 

My hands worked their way towards his neck, squeezing and working the tension out as they moved. His head dropped forward, chin to his chest, moaning faintly as my hands worked up his neck and the base of his skull.

"You don't–don't have to do that," he mumbled. 

"Like I said," I told him, my voice sounding breathless and not the light and joking tone I'd intended, "someone should make sure the neighborhood vigilante is taken care of."

My fingers continually worked up his neck, feeling him slacken under my touch as another low moan left him. His hands suddenly dropped down, each one landing on one of my knees and gently squeezing them. I bit my lip, fighting to focus on giving him a massage and working out his tense muscles, trying hard to pay attention to the food competition on the television and not the growing warm ache between my thighs. 

It wasn't working.

His hands tightened even further on my knees and I bit my lip harder. A sharp, shaky exhale blew out of my nose as my heart picked up its pace. Internally I willed it to stop, my attention turning towards the television as my hands focused back on his broad shoulders. They were in a dessert round now.

Just focus on the damn pie on TV, Olivia. Stop thinking about him between your legs.

My eyes clamped shut as I felt my arousal growing, knowing full well Matt would be even more aware of it than myself. I tried to exhale slowly as my hands slid down his shoulders, firmly working the muscles of his biceps. But then the image of Matt shirtless sitting on my bed earlier flashed through my mind and my breath caught in my throat. I felt Matt’s body tense under my hands and against the front of me. My grip tightened on his arms for a moment involuntarily before I quickly slid them back up to his shoulders and then to his upper back, trying to focus on massaging another part of him. His hands slid up just a fraction on both of my legs, his firm grip now on the upper part of my thighs just above my knee. I felt like I couldn't breathe.

You're dumb for lying to yourself and saying this wasn't sexual. He is LITERALLY between your legs and you're LITERALLY rubbing your hands all over his body.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

My eyes drifted up towards the ceiling, praying for my body to just calm down and stop betraying me to Matt. 

How is one man doing this to me?

I felt him suddenly sit up straight as if he'd abruptly recovered from some sort of trance the massage had relaxed him into. My eyes landed back on him and I felt him release my thighs from his hold. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes landing on my chin. He swallowed hard a few times, his throat moving quite visibly with the movement. 

He cleared his throat quickly before speaking, his voice deep and husky as he did. "Thank you for…taking care of me tonight, Liv." My body shivered involuntarily at the sudden nickname. "I should probably let you sleep. It's late."

My hands stopped on his back and I slowly lowered them to my lap. 

"Yeah, okay," I agreed quietly, removing my legs from around him and scooting back on the couch. "It is late." 

He rose to his feet and nervously I rose to mine beside him, crossing my arms over my chest as if that could help cover the sound of my racing pulse.

"Thanks for…checking on me," I told him awkwardly. "...again."

His mouth pulled up at the corners in a smile. He reached out, briefly cupping my chin, his thumb grazing my bottom lip. My arms tightened around myself in anticipation of something, but he dropped his hand as a pained look crossed his face. 

We can't. Not with Kilgrave still out there. He knows that, too.

A dejected sigh left me as he turned and headed towards the front door. I followed behind him, unlocking it and opening it for him when we reached it. He stepped forward, pausing in the threshold. 

"Goodnight, Olivia," he whispered.

"Goodnight, Matt," I answered back.

And then he went into the hallway and headed to his apartment. I shut the door behind him, locking it. I ran my hands down my face a few times, trying to calm down. My body was still aroused, still reacting to everything about him tonight. 

With a huff I turned off the television and headed to my room. Sleep, that's what I needed. 

I crawled into my bed and tried to get comfortable. I tossed and turned in the sheets a few times, feeling restless and all too aware of the warm, needy ache between my thighs. I rolled to my side and closed my eyes tight in frustration, willing myself to relax. 

Matt's shirtless body flashed before my mind; the ripple of muscle I'd seen earlier–felt under my hands as I healed him. Massaged him. I bit my lip, unable to stop the curiosity that grew in me of what it would feel like to massage his bare chest and back under my hands. To hear what sounds he would make.

My hand had slid down into my underwear, between my thighs before I'd even realized. As my mind recalled that dark, hungry look on his face and the moans he had softly made as I massaged him, my hands continued to work inside myself, trying to find some release from the growing tension deep inside me. Briefly I thought I heard a loud bang from across the hall, but the image of Matt between my legs, his fingers inside of me, had me arching back into the sheets and moaning. 

I was panting hard, my breath loud in my empty bedroom as I continued to finger myself. I pictured Matt in his black outfit, the dark mask on his face obscuring everything but his mouth. And that mouth–that mouth between my thighs, his tongue warm and wet.

His name rolled from my lips, something between a curse and a moan all in one, as I felt myself finally release the tension that had been growing deep in me all night because of him. Another loud noise faintly registered in my mind as I came down, trying to catch my breath. When my mind was working again, I realized that I'd heard a few loud bangs from Matt's apartment. 

I swallowed hard, brow furrowing as my eyes glanced to my phone on the nightstand. Did I ignore it or did I check on him? Another loud bang from across the hall had me reaching for my phone, scanning my recent call list for his name. My finger hovered over it for a moment, trying to catch my breath and rid myself of the embarrassment of having just done that while thinking about him and then calling him after. I groaned staring at his name; maybe I was being stupid. He had to be fine.

What if someone attacked him in his apartment? Or he tripped and fell and hurt himself?

I pushed the contact, holding the phone to my ear as I ran my hands nervously through my hair. The phone rang five times and just as I was about to hang up, contemplating checking on him, he suddenly answered.

“Olivia?” he asked, confusion and something else mingled in his voice.

“I uh…” I began, closing my eyes and trying not to think about what I’d just been picturing. I could hear him breathing heavily through the phone. “Are you okay?” I blurted out. “I thought I heard…banging or something? I just…wanted to make sure you were okay?”

“I–I’m fine,” he panted out, his voice sounding strained. 

“You don’t…sound fine…” I told him. “You sound out of breath.”

He huffed something that sounded almost like a chuckle before he groaned over the line. I heard a light thud shortly after.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Olivia Allen,” he breathed out.

I swallowed hard, my brows knitting together at his words. “What?” I asked him.

“I tried…really I did,” he told me, his voice low and quick. “Normally I tune everything out, and I really tried but I…”

He paused and my brain was racing, trying to make sense of what he was saying. 

Tune everything out? What was he–oh. Oh shit.

My hand flew to my face in embarrassment, my cheeks flaming when I had understood. He’d heard me just now in my room, touching myself while thinking of him. Moaning his name . 

Shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I tried not to but…it’s like I was so tuned in to you when I left that I couldn’t shake you from my senses. It’s like you overwhelmed me–your scent, your breath, the tossing and turning in your sheets. The…noises you were making after.” He inhaled sharply and my cheeks burned further. “Please say something,” he begged, his breath still coming in heavy.

I tried to bury my face in my hand further, tried to disappear, but I couldn’t. As if it wasn’t enough to know he could tell I was aroused–feel it, smell it, taste it–now he’d heard me.

“I…” I started, voice quiet as I shook my head. “I am…definitely embarrassed.”

“If it makes you feel better, you’re not alone,” he admitted. “Not the embarrassed part, but the uh… other part.”

“What?”

“You weren’t the only one who uh…needed a…” he paused, clearing his throat before he finished, “release.”

Did he just…admit that he’d gotten off to me? The warmth that had been flooding my cheeks suddenly flew farther south on my body at the information.

“That…was the banging?” I asked him hesitantly.

He cleared his throat again, his breathing sounding a bit more even. “Yeah, I uh…tried not to but I…couldn’t…”

“Oh,” I said, the word coming out more as a surprised sound.

“You’re probably upset with me now, for all of that,” he rambled on suddenly. “I’m sorry, it was wrong of me and I shouldn’t have–”

“No,” I said, cutting him off quickly and then wincing. “I mean,” I began, backpedaling a bit, “I’m definitely embarrassed that you uh…heard that? But…from what you’ve said before I suppose it’s not all in your…control.” I swallowed hard, scratching the top of my head. “But I’m…” I trailed off, biting my lip.

“You’re…?” he prompted eagerly.

“I’m…a little relieved to know that it wasn’t just me,” I blurted out.

He chuckled lightly on his end. “It’s definitely not. You were sufficiently working me up most of the night, probably without even realizing it, sweetheart.”

I licked my lips at the term of endearment, my eyes closing briefly, wondering what it would sound like to hear him whisper it–

Nope, that’s how we got in this mess.

I cleared my throat awkwardly. “I uhm…I’m sorry. Just sort of…having a hard time keeping my distance,” I admitted.

“Yeah, you’re not the only one,” he mumbled, his tone sounding pained. “But you should actually get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, nodding slowly. “You’re right.”

“Goodnight, Liv,” he said gently.

My mouth pulled up into a faint smile. “Goodnight again, Matt.”

I could hear the smirk in his voice when he said, “I hope you have good dreams this time.” A brief pause. “Just maybe not too good, okay?”

“Oh my God,” I grumbled, burying my face in my hand again as he laughed lightly. “ Goodnight, Matt,” I said firmly.

“Sweet dreams, Liv,” he told me, a smile apparent in his voice.

I hung up, sighing as I placed my phone back on the nightstand. Settling back into my sheets, I muttered to myself, “You attractive and charming ass, Matt.”

A moment later my phone buzzed. Frowning, I turned over, grabbing my phone. I spotted a text from Matt.

3:47 AM I heard that

I rolled my eyes, laughing a little. “Maybe you should stop spying on me now, the show’s over buddy,” I whispered.

3:47 AM Goodnight sweetheart

I smiled, placing the phone back on the nightstand before rolling over in my bed and getting comfortable. 

God damn that man and what he does to me.

#matt murdock x ofc #daredevil x oc #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock series #matt murdock fanfic

[invisibleraven]

13 looking over the other's shoulder, peterpatterlina

Julie faked a laugh as the man next to her made some off colour joke or another. Sipping her champagne, she longed for this evening to be over, but she knew this was essential to her mission.

At least the food was good.

Speaking of food, she caught the glance of familiar hazel eyes perusing the crab puffs and excused herself, walking over and pretending to be debating between the different scallops.

"How ya holding up?" Luke asked, voice low.

"Ugh, I swear if I had any sedatives I wouldn't need them these guys are so boring. But they might save me from suffering."

"You guys better snag me some snacks," came the voice in Julie's earpiece. Reggie was held up in the security office, trying to hack the system so they could slip into the safe. Get what they needed, and go.

Julie gave a much more genuine giggle at that. "Sure, I'll just slip some of these into my purse and have Flynn bitching me out for a millennia."

"Aww come on Jules, I'm starving here and it's not like the staff is gonna bring me a tray without raising the alarm."

"From what I've heard about how thus guy treats his staff they might wheel you half the kitchen," Luke murmured, eyes surveying the room. "How much longer?"

"Five minutes. Got take our girl for a spin, since I'm not there," Reggie replied.

"C'mon man," Luke whined. "You know I have two left feet."

"And I don't think Flynn made these heels steel toed," Julie added.

"It's a good way to keep an eye on the room. I'm sure our host has a silent alarm-see if he gets spooked when I get through. Follow him if he tries to make tracks," Reggie says.

"Fine," Luke grumbles and Julie pinches him subtly, since he's acting like dancing with her is some hardship. "Ow! Sorry boss. You know I love you, but I hate dancing."

"So just hold me and sway," Julie says, resting her chin on his shoulder, keeping her eyes on the room. The stuffy gentlemen and cold women in pricey gowns, all of them the height of society and the criminal elite. She's sure Luke sees it too, though she can also feel his nose nuzzling her neck.

"Okay, this isn't so bad," he hums. "Missing Reggie though."

"I'm there in spirit babe," Reggie says through the coms. "And after we nail this guy, I'll take you both out dancing. Maybe after I get a slice."

"Always thinking with your stomach," Julie titters. Then she freezes when she sees someone she wasn't expecting. "Fuck, Carrie is here. We gotta get out before we get made."

"What's she doing here?" Luke hisses, eyes scanning looking for an escape route.

"Hopefully to arrest someone that is not us," Reggie says. "I'm through, by the way. Try to get to the safe and we can sneak out the window. Our host wise yet?"

Julie looked at the old man who owned the house, but if his phone was dinging with an alarm, he didn't show it, too busy talking to some wealthy lady with more diamonds than sense. Julie kind of wanted to snatch them, but unfortunately that wasn't the purpose of their mission.

There was always another time.

She and Luke slip out, dashing towards the safe. Luke pulls the stuff to crack it while Julie pulls her gun from her thigh holster, keeping watch. "Hurry," she hisses to Luke. "Reggie, get the fuck out of that office and meet us here."

"Already on my way darlin'," he drawls and she can almost picture his crooked grin.

"And no stopping in the kitchens on the way!"

"You are so gonna owe me a pizza after this then. With pineapple and no complaints," Reggie says.

Julie scrunches her nose in disgust but agrees, urging him to hurry. Luke lets out a little whoop of happiness as the safe opens. Julie looks inside and snags the flash drive they need, plus any files.

Oh, and the diamond necklace... just because.

They hear a whistle from outside, and Reggie is below the window, zipline already set, so they make quick work of getting out, and slip through the hole in the security gate before the alarms even sound.

Later, after their debrief, and Reggie's pizza, Julie can finally kick off her hellish heels, and sighs. Only Reggie is there with his hand extended. "You promised me a dance."

"That I did," she says, letting herself be hauled up. They twirl around their living room, Julie able to see Luke watch them from the kitchen where he's making tea and cookies from over Reggie's shoulder. "Come on Luke, come dance with us!"

The man grins and plasters himself to her back, the three of them swaying in place to the music only they can hear.

"Job well done," Reggie murmurs as they break apart. "Even if I'm bummed I missed the spread."

Julie holds up a finger and goes to her purse, pulling out her new necklace-which she knows she has to pawn, but she's going to enjoy it until then-and a small bundle of snacks wrapped in a fancy linen for Reggie.

And sure, maybe there's a small stain in the purse lining, but Flynn's wrath is worth the smile on Reggie's face as he devours the food.

Plus he shares the desserts with them, and if that isn't love, Julie doesn't know what is.

#filled prompts #ficlet #rukebox #peterpatterlina #julie and the phantoms