#too deep but if you think about it this entire series starts and ends because of Kevin day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

supernovafics · 2 months

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𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k words

warnings: explicit language, little tiny hint of angst, mostly fluff and good and fun vibes though<3

summary: in which everyone seems to notice that something is going on between you and steve, but they can’t pinpoint what it is

author's note: we start off kinda angsty and then i promise it's just cute and fun 🫶🏾

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Spring 1986

Most of the time, things always happened the same way. You and Steve would end up in the living room with the intention of studying and doing work for your classes. You’d settle on the floor— because leaning over the coffee table to do work felt much more casual than being at the dining table— and it was always after only twenty minutes of actually being somewhat productive that Steve would drop his notebook or textbook onto the table and shift closer to you, innocently kissing your cheek or the side of your head.

It was always the subtlest of touches that would pull your focus away from the notes you were taking or the reading you were doing; Steve knew how easily the flip would switch for you.

This time it was a soft kiss against your neck that made you let out a small laugh and then a quiet hum, already leaning into Steve’s touch. Moments later you were in his lap, knees on either side of him and pressing into the rug under you both.

Your hands were on his shoulders and then circled his neck, fingers finding home in the hair at the nape. He was the one to close that final bit of distance between you two and hurriedly press his lips against yours. You inwardly smiled at his eagerness and leaned into him so that he was pressed back against the couch.

His hands settled on your hips and then slipped beneath the shirt you were wearing. You expected him to start pushing it up and off of you, but he didn’t and instead simply began to trace teasing circles against your skin, which elicited the softest sigh in contentment from you.

After a few moments, you were pulling away from his lips to catch your breath, and his mouth immediately went to your neck.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking,” Steve mumbled against your skin.

Your eyes were shut as you responded with a simple, “Mhm?”

“It’s been a month now,” He started and then pressed a kiss right against a particularly sensitive part of your neck before continuing. “I think we should just tell everyone about us.”

Steve’s words didn’t entirely surprise you— because, in a way, they felt inevitable— but you could still feel yourself slightly stiffen in his arms and a wave of nervousness washed over you when you heard them.

You knew that this conversation was going to have to happen eventually, but in the past almost five weeks, it had never come up, and instead, you two fell into a sort of routine where you worked out the best way to keep everything a secret.

It wasn’t a secret that could be kept from everyone forever, that was obvious and you knew that, but you honestly didn’t hate living in this sort of limbo state where this newfound relationship between you and Steve was kept just between you and him. It felt safer that way.

You pulled back a bit so that you could meet his eyes. It was hard not to immediately look away from his hopeful gaze and small smile, but you still held eye contact as you shook your head, arms dropping to your sides. “I don’t know…”

“Why not?” He didn’t seem mad or upset at your soft-spoken words, just genuinely curious and a little confused.

The answer to why you’d been so hesitant didn’t finally feel obvious until this moment. It was a thought that lingered deep down inside of you and seemed better left unsaid, better left avoided. It was also a thought that contradicted everything you felt, but it somehow still existed. You really didn’t want to say it aloud, though.

You were about to shift off of him as a way to avoid answering the question, and to also maybe shut down the conversation altogether and change it to something else. But, Steve’s hands stayed on your hips, keeping you in place.

You let yourself meet his gaze again, the questioning look written across his face was clear as he spoke again. “Why not?”

You still didn’t want to answer, but simply looking at him for a few moments made you feel like you really could answer honestly. He was the only person that you knew you could tell anything to and it would always end up being okay, and you fully leaned into that thought.

“I think I’m…” You started and then immediately trailed off because you suddenly felt dumb for the way you felt and what you were about to say. However, you also quickly decided not to shy away from finally saying it. “I think I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” Steve asked softly, and you had to look away from him then because it was easier to answer the question with your gaze settled on something else.

“That you’ll change your mind. That you’ll decide that I’m actually not what you want,” You said, feeling the urge to try and run away again, but you didn’t, you couldn’t. “And I’m scared that I’ll be too fucked up from that rejection to let things go back to how they were with us. And then our friendship will be ruined, and everything with everyone else will get messed up too.” You let out a sigh as you shook your head. “And I know that it doesn’t make sense to think that because things have been so good between us, somehow nearly fucking perfect. But, I still do.”

You forced yourself to meet his eyes again and the look that crossed his face affected you completely. He shook his head at you. “I wouldn’t have said anything about how I was feeling if I thought for a second that I would change my mind. There isn’t any question about it. I want this. I want you. I want us.” His hold dropped from your hips and instead, he found your hands, intertwining them with his and giving them a light squeeze. “It’s always been you. And it always will be you.”

A series of knocks on the front door broke you both out of the seriousness of the moment, out of the conversation entirely, and you didn’t get a chance to respond or even fully think of what you wanted to say before you were looking at the shut door and starting to move out of Steve’s lap.

His words did a thousand things to you right then. You believed them entirely and they eased away your fears and made you feel okay— better than okay, actually. Instead of verbally responding with anything, you wanted to simply lean in and slot your lips against his. Actual words didn’t feel like they’d do enough to coherently sum up what was going through your head at that moment.

I believe you. I’m certain that you’re it for me too. I love you. It’s always been you. I never want this to change. I trust you, completely. You’re so fucking important to me. You’re the most important person to me. I love you.

Your mind was a jumble of disorganized thoughts that all basically said the same thing, and you knew that a kiss would be able to succinctly say all of that and then some. And maybe Steve could already see what was going on in your head because there was no one else who could see through you as easily as he could, even when your thoughts were in such a chaotic state— you honestly didn’t think that there was anyone that could read you that well at all.

The knock came again and you fully stood up and he followed suit.

“I’ll… I’ll get it,” You told him as you headed toward the door, but then something abruptly switched inside of you and you were turning around and walking back over to him. You pushed up on your toes and let your arms circle around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. How quickly his arms wrapped around you made you smile into his neck as you spoke. “I really love everything you just said. And I wish we weren’t being interrupted right now because we should talk about it more. But, I want you to know that I feel the same exact way as you. I promise. And it’ll never change either. And now I’m just rambling, but yeah.”

Your rushed words were quiet and slightly muffled but you could tell by how Steve was holding you tighter and kissing the side of your head that he heard you clearly. Another knock sounded at the door, which made you pull away from each other and you finally went to open it.

“Jesus, finally,” Robin said as she walked in. “We need to talk to you guys about something.”

“What’s going on?” You asked, directing your question at both her and Eddie, who was walking in right behind her.

He held up his hands in a sort of mock surrender. “This was all Robin’s idea so I’m gonna let her take the reins.”

You looked at Steve and he gave you a half-shrug, seemingly just as confused as you were in this moment.

Robin took a few steps into the living room and then turned toward you and Steve.

“Can you two sit on the couch, please?” She asked, and instead of questioning her and what was even happening in this moment, you both decided to just listen and follow her current antics.

“Why does this feel like an intervention?” You asked as you settled on the couch.

She nodded. “Because it is.”

Steve was about to say something, but she interrupted him before he could. “Don’t even ask why this is happening right now. We know something’s wrong between you guys. It’s been weeks since you two hung out with all of us at the same time. We see you one night.” She pointed at Steve and then pointed at you. “And then we see you at the next group thing, and it’s starting to get really weird because usually you guys are attached at the hip. Clearly, you’re avoiding each other because you’re in some sort of a fight or something, so we’re here to help you resolve whatever it is.”

For the most part, she was right— you and Steve had been avoiding each other like the plague around your friends, it just made keeping the secret from everyone easier— and it probably shouldn’t have been too surprising that Robin and everyone else thought that something was wrong between you two. Even in this moment, you and him were sitting on opposite ends of the couch because it had subconsciously felt like the right thing to do in front of them. Now thinking about it, everything you two had been doing around them did seem really weird because you’d never been like that before.

“Depending on whatever this fight is about, my advice will probably be shit, so yeah, just putting that out there,” Eddie said from where he was in the kitchen, grabbing a soda from the fridge. “I’m mainly here just because Robin needed a ride and I wanted to see Harold.”

“My advice, on the other hand, will be great so tell me everything,” Robin said.

You shook your head. “We’re not in a fight.”

“Okay…” She said, entirely unconvinced by your words. “Then, what’s been going on with you guys?”

“There’s nothing—” Steve started, but you immediately interrupted him.

“We’re dating.”

It was impulsive, but it surprisingly didn’t feel as such— it honestly felt like the only right thing to do right then. As soon as the two simple words, that you knew would change everything, fell from your lips, you didn’t feel an ounce of regret; you more so felt complete relief. And you now also completely understood why Steve had wanted to say it sooner. You turned to look at him and gave him a small smile and he returned it with a happy one of his own.

Robin’s eyes widened a bit. “No way.”

“Holy shit,” You heard Eddie’s surprised voice in the kitchen. He was then leaving his soda on the counter and moving to stand next to Robin. “Really?”

“Yes,” Steve answered with a nod and wider smile. “We’re together, and it’s getting very serious. She’s obsessed with me.”

You rolled your eyes and shifted closer to him so that you could playfully poke his side. “Oh, shut up. You’re definitely way more obsessed.”

He grabbed your hand, intertwining it with his and then pressing a quick kiss against the back of yours. “Okay, yes, I’ll admit that I’m also very obsessed.”

You smiled at him. “Thank you for being honest.”

“Wow, this is kind of adorably sickening,” Robin said, laughing a bit.

Eddie smiled. “Congratulations on you both finally pulling your heads out of your asses so this didn’t actually take twenty years to happen.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Twenty years?”

“Wait,” Robin jumped in before Eddie could address your confusion. “When did this happen?”

“Last month. During the ski trip,” You answered. It somehow still felt like only yesterday to you, even though so much had happened since then.

“March,” Eddie nodded and then looked as if he was trying to remember something. He then looked at Robin once it seemed like the thought hit him. “Shit, we owe Max and El five bucks.”

Steve looked at him, confused. “What? Why?”

“We all maybe, kinda, made a bet at the beginning of the year....” Robin started to explain. “We took guesses about when you two would finally get together.”

“What?” It was impossible to hide your surprise, but you also kind of wanted to laugh because of how insane that sounded. “When did you guys do that?”

“At the New Year’s dinner you guys set up here,” She said, and that only surprised you further. You thought back to that night and couldn’t remember anything seeming any different.

“How were we so oblivious to this?” Steve asked, voicing the question that was now on your mind too.

“When we were doing it you two were in your own little platonic married couple world. Like usual,” Robin explained with a simple shrug as she settled next to you on the couch. “Dustin wrote down everyone’s guess.”

“Oh, Dustin’s gonna go insane about this,” Eddie laughed. “We should call and tell him right now.”

He was already walking over to the kitchen where the phone was before any of you could say anything.

You shook your head. “He’ll be fine. I don’t think this is that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s the biggest deal,” Robin responded. “The mom and dad of the friend group finally getting together is huge.”

Steve gave your hand a light squeeze at that and you smiled, leaning further into him.

At first, the whole bet thing sounded insane to you; now you were just curious. “What were everyone’s guesses?”

“I can’t fully remember, but I said never because I honestly didn’t think that you two would finally do this, Eddie said twenty years, and everybody else said some other months. I know Max and El said March… Oh, and I know Dustin said February because ‘it’s the month of love,’” She laughed a bit.

“I did realize how I felt in February, so I guess he was half right,” Steve told her.

“How did you realize it?”

You had heard the full story from him a few weeks ago when you two were in your bedroom— you quickly got into a habit of always sleeping in each other’s beds instead of only sometimes doing it like before; sleeping apart became a rarity. It was sometime around one in the morning when you were randomly asking him how it all hit him and he told you the exact things that had gone through his head that morning when he realized everything. You were shyly smiling practically the entire time he spoke because it was the sweetest story you’d ever heard, and then you were kissing him until you both finally fell asleep.

“It’s a long story, but it just suddenly felt so fucking obvious,” Steve said, answering Robin’s question and she smiled at that.

All of your attention turned in Eddie’s direction as you heard him start talking on the phone. “Dustin, hey, big news." There was a short pause. "Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, it’s good news. So, they’ve been acting so weird these past couple weeks because they’re fucking dating! Finally!" Another pause and then Eddie let out a scoff. "Of course, I’m not lying,” He told the teen on the other end of the line. Dustin said something else and Eddie laughed and then looked over at you and Steve. “He wants to talk to you guys.”

“Should we be scared?” You asked as you stood up from the couch and started walking into the kitchen, following a beat behind Steve.

He nodded. "Probably, yes."

Eddie handed the phone to him and he placed it at his ear. “Hey.”

It was almost too easy to hear the shock in the teen’s voice even though you weren’t that close to the phone. “I can’t believe you’re telling me this over the phone. Also, I can’t believe it was Eddie saying it instead of you guys.”

“Dustin, you’re being overdramatic,” Steve said.

“This should’ve been a sit-down moment. This feels just as important as if you two were telling me you were getting married.”

You sighed. “Dustin…”

“Wait, are you guys getting married?”

You leaned in closer to Steve so that Dustin could hear you. “No, we’re not getting married.”

You could hear Robin and Eddie laughing on the couch.

“Okay, well, when you do, I expect you to tell me that in person.”

“Of course,” Steve playfully joked. “In fact, you’ll be at the proposal. I promise you’ll see it happen live.”

You laughed a bit. “Yeah, you can have a front-row seat. I’m completely okay with that.”

“Do not joke about that shit,” He said, and it felt almost impossible not to laugh at how serious he sounded. “Wait, so when did this happen? When did you guys get together? Was it February?”

“No, it was last month,” Steve told him. “So, apparently, Max and El win the bet that Robin and Eddie just told us about.”

“Shit,” Dustin sighed. “I wanna hear everything about how this all happened later; in person. Oh, and since you guys didn’t tell me yourselves, can I tell everyone else?”

“Sure, that’s fine,” You said with a shrug and then repeated your words from earlier. “This really isn’t that big of a deal.”

Dustin simply scoffed and you could practically hear him shaking his head. “Oh, it’s a huge deal.”

Steve let out a laugh. “That’s exactly what Robin said.”

“What did I say?” Robin yelled from the couch.

“That this is a huge deal,” Steve answered her.

“And it is!”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things series #stranger things smut

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souliebird · 6 months

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[[and then I met you || ch. 9]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Words: 4.8k

"Matt…how did you know where the window is?"

The words leave your lips and the entire mood of the apartment shifts. Matt's frame stiffens and fear begins to course through you.

If the answer to the question was simple, he'd have no reason to react like he got caught in a lie, but that is exactly what he is doing. His posture is screaming that he knows you've realized something you shouldn't have, and it scares you. It scares you so much because you don't want Matt to be someone you can't trust.

You want so so badly to trust him. Everything was going so well, and you don't want it to be ruined so early. You haven't prepared your heart for that disappointment and instinctively you wrap your arms around yourself to stave off any potential pain.

"I can explain," Matt says, voice quiet and on the edge of pleading. He's looking at you with his own fear on his face and it triggers you to step back and away from him.

People have told you before that they can explain - that you are in the wrong for simply not understanding them - and it always ends with you hurt. So, you close your eyes and duck your chin to your chest and brace yourself for the metaphorical blow, whatever it may be.

But there is only silence.

No more than a minute of nothingness passes, but it feels like an eternity. You force your eyes open and are shocked to see Matt looking absolutely devastated. Instead of standing tall and confident in himself, like you are so used to seeing, he has completely deflated. His shoulders are slumped and his head hung. You can practically feel the self hating energy coming off of him - it is something you are so familiar with.

Guilt pools in your belly. You can't hurt him because of your distrust of others and past experiences - he's given you no reason to think anything he's doing is malicious or only self serving.

So, you take the ball back into your court, squeezing your eyes back shut and taking a deep breath before asking, "should…should we sit?"

You hear him inhale sharply and you really, really hope you are doing the right thing.

"Please?"

He sounds like he's trying to not beg, and the knot forming in your stomach squeezes around your heart.

"Can we sit on the couch?" You ask, motioning to it. You finally allow yourself to look at him again to see him nod. You lick your lips and hesitantly add, "it's about five feet to your left," before going to sit yourself. By the time you are sitting, Matt is at the back of the couch and moving around the side to sit next to you. You watch as his fingers brush along the back and arm, too anxious to dare to look at his face or the giant lasagna stain on his chest.

You let him settle before asking again, in a calmer tone, "How did you know where the window was? And that it was open?"

You feel so accusatory, but he's told you before he has absolutely no light perception and in the panic of the moment, he closed the window without any hesitation or confusion.

He rubs his hands over his knees before removing his glasses and setting them on the coffee table. He then leans back into the couch, while turning to face you, and to be respectful, you turn so you are facing him, though you keep your eyes down cast to your lap.

"I was a child when I lost my eyesight," he starts slowly, and you try to keep your stomach from clenching. "And whatever it was that got in my eyes, it enhanced my other senses. It took what remained and pushed them past what normal people should be able to do. I could hear conversations from blocks away. I could figure out what people had for lunch the day before by the smell still in their breath. I could feel what was happening around me, based on air movement on my skin. And now…. Now I can…I can use all of that, all those inputs, to act as kind of a 3D map to determine things. Like a sonar, but instead of just sound reflecting back, it's a bit of everything. I can't see with my eyes, but I do know what is happening around me. That's how I knew where the window was. I could feel the breeze coming in. I could hear where the noise came in more clearly, versus the slight muffling of the wall. I could sense where the couch was based on the same factors."

You take in what he is trying to tell you and nod just a tiny bit. What he is saying makes sense - kind of. You know it's possible for other people's senses to strengthen when they lose one, but not nearly to the degree he is explaining. It is a hard concept to wrap your mind around. But you try.

You can tell he's not used to explaining this and you can also tell he's waiting for you to be angry or upset with him. It's a feeling you are so very used to experiencing yourself - that you did something wrong, and the other person is going to leave. It's like it's tangible in the air.

You force your gaze up to Matt's face. His hazel eyes are truly windows to his soul, and he looks so scared that you are going to explode on him and your heart aches for him. You're by no means angry about him not telling you about this upfront - it's clear he's had issues with that in the past and it's not like you deserve to know all his trauma and secrets from day one just because you had his child.

But you are still confused and do want to understand.

You turn so are facing him even more fully and force words from your throat, "Can I ask you some questions?"

Matt nods his head, jerky with it, "Yes, anything."

You can tell he means it, and that eases your own anxiety. You rub at your thighs, needing to transfer your internal anxieties outward, and go for the first thing that comes to mind.

"You said…you can hear blocks away. What does that mean? You can hear everything in like...a two block radius?" You ask, hoping you aren't sounding like an absolute idiot.

Matt's lips twitch, like they want to go into a sad smile, but he keeps his face firmly in 'kicked puppy' territory, "A little more than two blocks. I haven't…tested the maximum range, but if I stand in the middle of Hell's Kitchen, I can hear almost all of it. Sort of - I learned to filter and push things into the background so it's not constant input. If I focus, I can hear the couple down the street debating about what they want for dinner. I can hear everyone in this building and the next. But it isn't just..." he trails off for a moment, biting his lip and wrinkling his brow. Like he's trying to figure out the right words. You wait, not wanting to rush him.

"It isn't just a macro experience; it is also micro. I can hear the way the pipes in your kitchen are creaking. The way your shirt brushes against your skin. The differences in your breath as you exhale…I can hear your lungs expand and contract. I can... Hear your heart - it was beating fast a few moments ago but it's started to calm. Or you're trying to keep calm. I can... Tell your adrenaline and fear are still high. You're nervous and I don't blame you."

Your brows scrunch up in disbelief, "you can…hear my heartbeat?" You look down at your own chest, reaching up to place your hand over your heart. You can feel it beating rather hard, but as Matt said, you feel like you are calming down now that the two of you are talking.

"I can hear your heartbeat," he confirms, then adds, "But I don't go around listening to those sorts of things. I try to give people their privacy."

That makes sense to you - you wouldn't want to constantly have to listen to people's body functions.

The thought triggers another question.

"Why aren't you a doctor?"

Matt opens his mouth as if to answer, then pauses as his expression morphs into bafflement. "What?"

"Why aren't you a doctor?" You repeat, then motion at him, "I mean, based on what you said, wouldn't it make sense to be a doctor?"

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, reminding you of a fish, before he shakes his head, finally, finally starting to smile again, "I, uh, never considered it. I've always wanted to be a lawyer, since I was a kid. I wanted to help people." He leans forward slightly, putting his elbows on his knees, "You learn I can hear your heartbeat and you ask why I'm not a doctor. Are you not…freaked out?"

"I mean, a little, yes," you admit with a shrug, "but also…" you look back down to your lap and clasp your hands together, squeezing a little too tightly, "You're telling me and…we're talking like adults about it. I get why you didn't tell me, and it's not like…it's not like it's something terrible. It's weird but…it's not the weirdest thing?" You bite into your lip, then, because your nature is to put everyone else's needs in front of yours, you can't help but ask, "Is there anything I can do to make things easier? I mean, is there anything in here that's too loud or something? Something I can adjust to make you more comfortable?"

He seems to need a minute to process what you are telling him before he shakes his head, "No. No, I've spent my life adjusting to everything." He takes a breath before his voice becomes a little softer, "I didn't want to hide this from you. Foggy and Karen know the truth and were helping me come up with a way to tell you that makes sense."

"You did a good job, it made sense," you quickly confirm. That makes him smile, just a little.

"I'm glad... they are also helping me make a binder, like you made for me. About everything," he mimics you, motioning to himself. "I'm hoping it will help you with Minnie."

You're confused at first why your daughter is mentioned, then the wheels quickly begin to turn.

Memories flash in your mind of Minnie saying things are too loud - all her weird little complaints you've heard since she started being able to articulate - and your stomach starts to turn as things start to slot into place.

She inherited Matt's senses.

It makes so much sense and you very suddenly feel like you need to throw up.

You scramble to stand up, clamping your hands over your mouth. Matt shoots up so he is standing beside you, reaching out to touch your arm while saying your name in concern.

"She's been trying to tell me,” you choke out. All of the emotion of the day is crashing into you. Your eyes are stinging, and you can feel the tears gathering.

You've been such an awful parent.

How could you have not listened to what she was saying? Toddlers say weird things, but she's been consistent about what she tells you and you thought it was just her imagination or exaggerations.

What has your poor baby been putting up with?

The thought of her suffering because her senses are being overwhelmed and you not helping her pushes you over the edge and you begin to cry.

Tears start to pour out of you and only years of training has you strangling the sob that tries to escape as well.

You see Matt move through blurry eyes and suddenly you are wrapped in his arms, tucked under his chin like Minnie had been.

"It's okay," he whispers into your temple, holding you firmly against his chest. You want to struggle because you are not used to being held when you cry. You aren't used to being held at all. You aren't used to crying around other people.

All of it is so much and it just makes you cry harder, awkwardly standing stiff as a board while Matt tries to comfort you.

"It's okay," he repeats, and you manage to shake your head, because none of it is okay. It isn't.

You think of all the tantrums that have resulted from her being overstimulated and try to imagine how awful she must have been feeling. You get headaches from things being just a little too loud and that has been all of her life - and you have no idea how much she can hear. Can she hear blocks away like her father can? How many horrible things has she heard that you don't know about?

How has it shaped her?

"Hey, hey, look at me," Matt says so softly you barely hear him over your own choked sobs. His hands go from holding you to his chest up to your face and he cups your jaw, gently forcing you to tilt your head up towards his. You squeeze your eyes shut, too ashamed of yourself to look right into his face. "You are an amazing mother. You care so much about Minnie and doing right by her. You said she's been trying to tell you and you've been listening. You have been. The headphones you got her? They do help. I promise you they help. Everything you do helps."

There's a gentle pressure against your forehead, and you realize Matt is touching his to yours. You can feel his nose brushing against your own. "I asked her at the park the other day what helps when things start getting too loud. Do you know what she said?"

You shake your head because you have no idea. You didn't even know they had talked without you present.

What else didn't you know about your daughter?

"She listens to your heart. When things get too much for her, she finds the thing that centers her and soothes her and that's the sound of your heart."

You try to process his words but it's another gut punch to your emotions. It's a swell of love for your sweet little angel with a mix of horror because how often has she needed to center herself on you?

Matt smooths his thumbs over your cheeks, pushing away tears that are still streaming down them. "You take such good care of her. It blew my mind the first time we were all together, that you're so attentive and loving. You care so much. I didn't understand how I was so lucky that you were the one I got to have a child with. Someone with such a good heart. I thought you must have been mistaken because I certainly don't deserve you. I don't deserve Minnie. But you let me in and I have been praying that I can be a fraction of what a good parent you are. Minnie loves you so much. You've done so good with her. You didn't know about her senses, but how could you, and you still did so much to help her. And now that you do know, I know you'll do everything within your power to help her. And I will as well. I promise. It's okay. She's okay."

You try to focus on Matt's words, but it is so hard. Your crying is quickly cascading from emotional crying to being completely panicked anxiety crying.

You aren't used to being comforted. You aren't used to people telling you it's okay and you did good. It's confusing and you don't know how to act. You don't know what you are supposed to do.

Are you supposed to calm down? How do you calm down? How do you just stop crying?

And his hands are so warm on your face. They are surprisingly rough, but they feel good, petting you so gently. He's so close everywhere - you're still right against him from when he was holding you. You can taste his breath.

It feels like he's right on top of you - he practically is - and you suddenly can't breathe. It feels like your esophagus has locked up and you can no longer swallow air.

Fear surges up your spine and before it can take hold, a low resonating bong goes through your mind, telling you to go get a glass of water.

It's something you've trained into your mind, taking years to perfect.

To prevent a panic attack, drink a glass of water.

"I need water," you manage to say before pulling away from Matt and go purposefully to the kitchen, ordering yourself to not rush. You have a specific glass you use on these occasions and pull it from the top shelf. You hear Matt follow you into the kitchen, but you force yourself to focus on getting out your water pitcher and pouring your glass of water. Your hands are shaking and water is splashing on the side of the glass.

Once it is full, you refill the pitcher and put it away, before returning to your glass. You drink slowly, taking a sip, swallowing, taking a breath, then repeating. Matt keeps his distance as he waits for you. He looks concerned and he keeps flexing his hands and you have to avert your gaze because it is making you anxious again.

Tears are still streaming down your face but with each breath, you regain control of your emotions. You pull them back in and reorganize your thoughts. First, you must deal in facts.

Fact - Matt has enhanced senses due to the accident where he lost his eyesight. Fact - Matt is Minnie's father. Fact - Minnie inherited Matt's enhanced senses. Fact - having enhanced senses can be overwhelming for your daughter and it causes tantrums.

These are your facts, one of which is a problem, the over stimulation, and you need to find a solution to it, but to find a solution you need to know the trigger.

You finish your glass of water and set it in the sink to wash later, then turn to face Matt. He looks so worried, but now that you are looking at him, he perks up - attentive and waiting for you to address him.

You wonder what signals your body is giving him - can he sense your change in demeanor?

"Do you know what upset her at dinner? Why she started crying?" You ask, hoping you don't sound like a complete mess.

Matt nods quickly, ready to explain, "the building behind us on this block's fire alarm started going off. Based on what I can tell, a rat chewed through a wire and set it off somehow. The second tantrum was from a fire truck arriving - it had it's sirens going off "

You stare at Matt in wonder. You heard none of that. The window was wide open and you didn't hear a siren at all, and if you did you automatically put it into the background of your mind.

"It was on the other side of the block," he says, like he knows exactly what you are thinking, "and we're facing the wrong direction. There's no chance you would have been able to hear it."

Your hands clench into fists at your side, dread starting to build up inside of you and threatening to pull more tears, "how can I protect her from things I can't hear?"

Matt's face softens into something understanding. He hesitantly steps forward, and as he reaches for you, you understand his love language is touch. He's trying to comfort you through touch, and by extension, comfort himself. This must be horrible for him, you realize with a start. He told you this big secret and you proceeded to freak the fuck out on him.

He needs comfort as well. He needs someone telling him it's okay.

You're being so selfish again.

He touches your arm and begins to ghost his fingers up and down it, barely pushing at the sleeves of your T-shirt. The back of his fingers are rough, but the sensation isn't terrible. You are still so unsure what you are supposed to do, so you take a breath and take a small step closer to him then decide the best course of action is to ignore the petting.

"You can't protect her, but we can help give her the tools to protect herself. She was born with it and has adapted naturally. I had to be taught and have had a lifetime to learn. That's why I want to make that guide for you. I fully intended to tell you everything, and still do," he ducks his head and becomes almost sheepish, “I was just…trying to do it in the right way?"

You absorb his words and let them roll around in your mind, ignoring for now the implication there are more people with enhanced senses than just Matt.

"You can teach her?" You confirm after a few moments.

"We can both teach her. I told you before, you've already helped so much. No one has ever gotten me sound proof headphones - and certainly not a dozen different pairs. We can talk to her together and she can tell us what she needs," he says and it does sound like he's thought this through.

And that brings you comfort.

He has a plan. He's coming at this prepared and with research and consultants.

He's committed.

You don't need to search for a solution because he already has one.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and your shoulders relax.

A literal sigh of relief.

"Thank you," you whisper and Matt quickly shakes his head, but before you can say anything, the larger red stain on his shirt catches your eye again and your Mom brain activates. "Matt, your shirt!"

He looks down at his chest, clearly confused by the sudden change in conversation and tone, "what about my shirt?"

"There's lasagna all over it. It's going to stain so badly. Here, let me get you another shirt," you pull away from him and start hurrying towards the bedroom. You wipe at your tears as you call back to him, "I think I can still get the stain out. It's still wet."

In the bedroom, Minnie has rolled over and is now face down on her bed, sprawled out like a starfish. You know from that she will not be awake until morning. She must be so exhausted, your poor Mouse. Guilt swirls in your belly and you vow you're going to learn to help prevent this.

You're not going to let her suffer any longer.

You look away from your daughter to rummage through your dresser. You grab one of your largest T-shirts and quickly leave the room, lest you disturb your daughter. You head back down the short hallway to the main living area, hoping what you got will be big enough for Matt.

You look up from your musings as you come around the corner and freeze.

Matt's taken his shirt off.

You are very intimately aware that he was in shape before, but this is a different level. His muscles are well defined and his biceps are at least as big as Minnie's head. You've never seen someone with v-cut abs in person and you feel your cheeks start to heat up because you are only human and your brain is definitely short circuiting.

You force your eyes away from how his hips disappear into his pants and up his chest.

There are scars, all across his torso, long and deliberate. They don't look surgical, even with the sight symmetry of some. Going over one of the smaller scars on his right side is a nasty bruise that seems to wrap around to his back. It looks painful and at least a few days old by the coloring.

Your instinct is to ask if he is alright, but you clamp it down.

You understand.

You understand this extension of trust, silent and hopeful but terrified, and you take it and cradle it to your heart. He will tell you in time. You have to trust him.

You have to trust whatever is blooming between the two of you.

But does he really need to be so insanely hot? Was it not complicated enough?

Matt calls your name, breaking you out of your thoughts. He sounds more than a little smug.

"Sorry, it has been a long day. Um, I think this will fit you," you step forward and hold it out, asking as you do, "Do I need to tell you where it is or…?"

He shakes his head with a chuckle, and you wonder how many times people have asked him such questions, "You can just toss it at me. It's okay, I understand."

You feel rude but do as you are told. He catches it easily, and after turning it over in his hands to orient it, pulls it on.

"What's it got on it?" He asks, rubbing his hands over his chest to feel the screen print, unintentionally emphasizing how broad he is.

You blame your slight delay in response on your exhaustion.

"It's... got the word 'cosmos' on it with a galaxy print behind it. It's from that old science show with um...I don't know his name. I just remember something about the universe being a pie?" You answer, wishing you'd actually looked at what you had grabbed him.

But Matt nods anyways, like he understands what you mean, "Carl Sagan?"

The name rings a bell, and you shrug, honestly not remembering in the moment, "I think that's it, I never was a big science person but the shirt was free..."

He chuckles at your answer and you have to look away from him, shuffling towards the couch instead. It isn't fair how good he looks. The shirt is one you wear every so often to sleep and now you very much understand the trope of men enjoying women wearing their t-shirts and you've already experienced too many emotions today to try to process that.

You plop down and put your head into your hands. Exhaustion is creeping into your bones and your eyes ache from crying and it feels like you've been hit with the emotional equivalent of an eighteen wheeler. You feel the couch dip as he sits beside you and a moment later, Matt's fingers are tracing up and down your spine. It feels like a feather and instead of locking up at the touch, you find yourself slumping more.

"How're you doing?" He asks and part of you wants to laugh.

"I don't know," you admit, "it is a lot to take in at once. I just want to make sure I'm doing the right thing - with Minnie. With you. Not just with…your senses, but with everything. I don't want to mess up."

"You won't mess up," Matt assures you and he sounds so confident that you want to believe him. "Things might not always be easy, but you won't mess up. I believe in you."

You don't know how to respond to that. You haven't had anyone tell you they believe in you in so long. It sends this sort of warmth through you that you don't understand and the only thing you can think of to do is hide your face more into your hands.

He doesn't press for more as you both sit there. The silence somehow isn't awkward, even as minutes start to creep by. He continues to run his fingers up and down your back and it doesn't take long for your eyes to start to feel heavy. You tell yourself to get up, you still have to clean up the mess from dinner, but your body doesn't listen.

You just want to sit.

All you want to do is just sit.

You'll get up in a minute. You just need to recharge. You keep telling yourself that, even as you feel your body start to sag and your thoughts start to fade in and out. You don't notice as your exhaustion starts to take over and you begin to drift - and you don't notice as Matt helps you lay down on the couch or when a blanket is draped over you.

As your thoughts finally allow sleep to take over, the last thing your mind lets you process is the brush of lips against your temple and gentle words whispered against your skin.

Tags:

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then i met you

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taintedcigs · 7 months

Text

GETAWAY CAR — rockstar!e.m. x f!reader

CHAPTER TWO: WHERE I END YOU BEGIN

← prev chapter // next chapter →

✦ summary: in which reader is upset with eddie for kissing chrissy and more about reader's relationship with billy is revealed. (wc: 5.2k+)

✦ warnings — ANGSTANGSTANGST, pining and slowburn, arguments!!!, strong language!, mentions of alc*hol and smoking , eddie is a bit mean, toxic billy!! he's emotionally ab*sive, kinda car accident? but not rlly

✦ pairings — rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader

series masterlist | series playlist

You were sure your entire world had shattered around you. If only you were as cool and collected as you painted yourself out to be, maybe you could get over it.

Maybe you could get over the fact that Eddie was locking lips with fucking Chrissy.

You could feel your eyes water, you don’t even know what you mumbled to the two of them before you disappeared off to the backyard.

Nancy, Max and Dustin were too busy in the kitchen to notice anything, but Jonathan had witnessed it all, he wasn’t too far behind you.

Your hands were clammy as they dug into the back pocket of your jeans, shaking from the anger radiating off your body. It didn’t help when the lighter in your hands caught your attention.

That stupid pink dragon lighter.

The one Eddie specifically painted hot pink right after you told him to do so. And before you knew it, the seething rage consumed you, blood boiling as you threw the lighter in the ground, along with the cigarette on your hand, squishing it with your shoe until it broke apart, tobacco spilling out from the crevices, “Shitshitshit—” you cursed as you stared at the mess you made on the ground.

“Uh-uhm…” Jonathan spoke up, approaching you with caution when you turned around to face him. You slightly huffed as you took another cigarette from your pack, putting it between your lips before Jonathan started speaking.

“You okay?” He asked, the cold look you gave him with the cigarette sitting on your lips was enough for him to throw his hands up in defeat, “Here,” He offered when he reached for his back pocket, offering you a lighter. Murmuring a quick ‘Thank you’ you took it without hesitation, the flame briefly illuminating your face as you lit the cigarette. You knew you were being a bit of a bitch, but you were spiraling, mind fizzling with the thoughts of her all over him.

“I-I’m fine.” You struggled to get that sentence out, tone betraying you and your eyes were looking anywhere but at Jonathan. You took a deep breath, mind filled with everything that transpired in the last hour, and he eyed you with pity.

“’M sorry, Jon,” You muttered, “I know this is your big weekend and I’m already bringing it down with my stupid drama.” He was quick to shake his head, “Don’t be ridiculous,” He reassured you.

“We’re both really glad you’re here, okay? I know Nance could never get through this weekend without you.” He gave you a slight pat on your back, comforting you further.

“But what the hell is she even doing here?” You asked, eyes trained toward the sliding door that had the view of Chrissy still giggling at Eddie.

Jonathan swallowed, physically, “Shit...” He scratched the back of his neck nervously, knowing he was treading on thin ice. “Look, before I tell you this, I should let you know that I don’t think Eddie has any idea of all the shit she said to you during our senior year.” He breathed.

“So don’t go all you on him yet, yea?” You shrugged, face still sour, you couldn’t promise him anything. It didn’t matter if Eddie didn’t know the whole story; he still knew some of the things she did, and it infuriated you that he still dared to have whatever the fuck they had. Your logic went out the window the second you saw the two of them together; it didn’t matter what Eddie actually knew because it fucking hurt. It hurt to see him be so cold toward you and then snuggle up to Chrissy.

“You know that gig Eddie’s band had last week?” You nodded curtly, Eddie told you about the gig approximately ten minutes before locking lips with that little traitor.

"Well... Chrissy was at the gig," Jonathan admitted, a heavy sigh escaping him as he braced himself for your reaction. "And they met there, and they've been kinda hanging out since then..." You had never seen Jonathan this nervous, maybe it was the way your gaze turned so icy and intense, or the way your jaw clenched, or your unhinged behavior for the last five minutes.

“Real cute,” You murmured, chuckling dryly, you took another drag from the cigarette sitting between your index fingers as if it were a lifeline.

Jonathan rubbed his forehead stressfully, “Just talk to him…” Your head snapped at him. “I don’t want to,” You replied childishly, earning a scoff from him.

“Well, I think you’re gonna have to,” He said with a slight snort, causing your attention to divert to where his gaze fell, Eddie was eyeing the two of you as he opened the sliding door, making his way over to you.

“Fuck off,” You muttered.

“Be nice,” Jonathan warned, brows raising as he brushed past you. He greeted Eddie with a slight pat on the back before he rushed inside, leaving the two of you alone.

Your eyes rolled unintentionally when Eddie approached your side. You wanted to tell him to fuck off and go find his girlfriend, but you decided to save your petty remarks for later.

“Got a lighter?” He asked, voice muffled by the cigarette sitting between his lips. You nodded without looking in his direction and pointed toward the ground where you had previously chucked the lighter in a fit.

Eddie chuckled before he reached down to grab it, freezing the moment he did so.

Shit shit shit shit.

Was that?

You actually kept it?

"Uh..." he stammered, still caught off guard by the sight of the lighter. "Pink dragon, huh?"

“Hmm?” You hummed, head popping up in his direction to see Eddie holding your lighter, the one he made for you.

“Oh…yeah.” You replied awkwardly, still unable to meet his gaze fully.

With the flick of his thumb, Eddie lit his cigarette before handing the lighter back over to you. "You—uh... dropped this," he said, a hopeful smile on his face.

You accepted the lighter but promptly chucked it from his hands with an annoyed 'Thanks,' not in the mood for his nice gesture.

“You were right… Pink dragons are cool.” He tried to gain your attention, but you just hummed again.

“Jesus…” He sighed. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked cluelessly.

Was he joking? Or was he just trying to get back at you?

You chuckled dryly. “No… no… You just kissed my sworn enemy, is all.” You narrowed your eyes childishly.

“Sworn enemy?” He quirked a brow. “What are you, five?”

“Yeah.”

“She tried to hook up with your boyfriend five years ago, Pinky… Are you really holding a grudge for some shitty mistake she made when she was a teenager?”

Oh.

Jonathan was right; he thought this was just about Billy. So he didn’t know a fucking thing. But that excuse wasn’t enough to quell the seething rage fueling inside of you.

“You don’t know what you are talking about—”

“If you’re still holding onto things that happened five years ago, then what about me?” He threw his hands up angrily, interrupting you.

Jesus fucking Christ. It boggled your mind how quickly your conversations went from calm to angry now, and it made you realize how bitter both of you have become. How unrecognizable he was to you now because you had made him this way. It was all your fucking fault, and those anxious voices in your head echoed the same sentiment, making you feel smaller with each passing moment.

“What should I fuckin’ do?” He spat.

You weren’t emotionally or physically ready to delve into this now, especially not after seeing him kiss Chrissy. You did want to talk to him eventually, but not like this; there had to be a way to talk about you leaving him without reopening your own wounds. You couldn’t handle that.

“Should I tear you a new one for leaving me all alone in LA?”

“Don’t…” You warned, eyes getting glossy just at the mention.

“Don’t what? Tell the fuckin’ truth." He shot back, frustration and resentment coursing through his words.

“Why do I have to protect your feelings when you were so fucking careless about mine?” He was supposed to sound angry, but you could hear the emotion in his tone, his voice slightly cracking as you avoided his gaze.

“You don’t have any fucking idea what you’re talking about, Eddie—” You yelled back.

Eddie wasn't willing to let it go, “Then tell me!” He demanded, a note of desperation in his voice.

“I didn’t come here to do this! To talk about… Jesus.” You sighed, fingers rubbing your temples to relieve the headache this day was giving you.

"Look, Eddie," you began, your tone softening slightly, "I'm here for Nancy and Jonathan, and them only. I know that's why you're here too. I don't want to cause them any more drama than I already have, okay?" Your voice was calm, but the frustration still simmered beneath the surface.

“You—you’re so frustrating.” Eddie breathed.

“You do realize that the whole fucking world doesn’t revolve around you, right?” He added.

With a heavy sigh, you gathered your belongings and stood up abruptly. “Fine!” You exclaimed.

“I’ll be the mature one.” You heaved a sigh, leaving without turning to look back at him, mind tuning out whatever he was saying to you.

When you returned back inside, you could feel Max and Nancy’s curious gaze on you, and you could practically feel Jonathan's stolen glances as he conversed with the rest of Eddie's band and Chrissy.

Her obnoxious laugh was grating on your last nerve; you were being bitter and jealous, and it certainly was not a good look on you. You bit the inside of your cheek when you threw her a glance, the metallic taste of blood flooding your senses, and before you knew it, her annoying cackle came to an abrupt halt as she sensed your gaze, swallowing physically before she followed you.

Your eyes involuntarily rolled when you felt Chrissy's fingers gently tapping your shoulder. Slowly, you turned to face her. "Hey," she murmured, her eyes avoiding yours as if she couldn't bear to meet your gaze.

“Hey,” You bit back on your tongue; if you didn’t, you’d say a whole lot of things you were sure you’d regret.

“Can—can we talk? In private?” Her eyes met yours now; you could see the emotions they held, but you couldn’t care now.

Why did you always have to care about how other people felt? They’d hurt you just fine; why couldn’t you even do one ounce of the same thing to them? Why was it always you who had to embrace the pain and guilt, while everyone else was absolved of them?

“I—I can’t,” You didn’t mean to stutter, but it was so hard to lie when she was this close to your face that you hurried off to Nancy and Max’s side without another word.

“You okay?” Nancy asked in a concerned tone.

“I’m fine!” You waved her off, the crack in your voice and your glossy eyes were enough proof of that being a lie, but they left it alone, nodding understandingly as Nancy gave you a gentle squeeze on your shoulder.

“I—I think I just need to go home and rest for a bit… That okay with you?” The gentleness of your voice was aching both of them; it had barely been a few hours since you got to Hawkins, and all you had was that pout on your face.

“Of course!” Nancy replied without hesitation.

“You need a ride?” You asked, turning to Max.

She shook her head quickly. “I’ve got a car.” She pointed toward the Camaro sitting in the garage. You clearly missed it for some reason.

“Oh.” You accidentally blurted out, that Camaro was just nightmare fuel for you now, and you wished you had never seen it again. “Right—uh… I forgot you have a license now.” You added with a silly smile stuck to your lips, wanting to change the topic.

“Do you need anything else?” You asked, your tone shifting back to one of genuine care as you turned to face Nancy. She shook her head, a warm smile gracing her lips.

“You sure?” You raised your brows.

“Stop worrying about me!” Nancy playfully exclaimed.

“I’m fine, I swear I’m fine. Mom’s calling me every few minutes to make sure everything is perfect, trust me, she’s taking care of everything.” You nod silently, a smile almost gracing your lips, when she chides you, god, you had missed this small idiotic town.

“Pinky, when I made you my maid of honor... I didn’t do it because I wanted you to handle the wedding plans. I honestly would actually rather you stay out of it, you’re pretty bad at planning.” You let out a slight dramatic gasp at her words, causing her to huff.

“Let me get to my point!” She gave you a knowing look.

“I did it because you are the closest person to me, because I don’t want someone who’s good at planning with me at the wedding, I can do that myself. I want my person by my side. I want you. You’re my family… like a half-Wheeler.” You chuckle, accepting the reassuring grip she has on your hand.

You give her a nod, silently returning the things she said to you, thanking her and telling her you love her, and she understands, accepts it, and translates your emotions without you opening your mouth.

“So, I’m assuming you don’t need anything?” You asked with a sheepish smile, causing Nancy to narrow her eyes.

“Just go!” She orders. “Okay, okay!”

“I’m going.” You huffed, not realizing Chrissy was behind you again.

“Can we please just talk?” She was begging at this point, but the last thing you wanted to do was be in close proximity to her. You sighed deeply, your patience running thin. “I have to go, Chrissy.”

“Wait—just five minutes, please,” Chrissy breathed, the desperation in her voice making you huff and turn around to face her. Your mouth slightly opened as if you were about to cuss her out, and if you didn’t shut it tight, something about Eddie was going to slip out.

But right then, of course, Eddie fucking Munson stepped into the picture, slinging an arm over Chrissy’s shoulder before throwing you a daggering look.

You couldn’t tell if Eddie was doing this to piss you off or that he had genuinely started caring about Chrissy in what? A fucking week?

Your guilt against him was turning into rage, and you didn’t know how to handle it. Each of your hands itched to separate them, make sure he didn’t touch her, and make sure they stayed the fuck away from each other.

But this was about Nancy and Jonathan; you weren’t going to cause a scene, and you were going to play nice, at least until you couldn’t handle it.

“I think you’re fine,” You said bitterly, trying to ignore the jealousy burning your insides, and your insecurities were quick to seep into your skin, making you feel worthless.

“No… wait,” Chrissy called out, but you didn’t give them another look.

“See you at Steve’s tomorrow,” You muttered to Nancy as you passed by her, your tears were burning at this point; if you didn’t go home soon, you were going to explode.

As soon as you ran to your car, of course only one thing had your attention.

The Camaro.

FIVE YEARS AGO.

The sound coming from the engine was loud—so loud that over Billy’s screams, you could hear it roaring, terrifying you further. Max was in the back, holding on for dear life, when you were gripping your seat, attempting to stay calm to avoid scaring her further. Billy’s screams filled the silence of the car, and his thumbs tapped along to the song ‘Wango Tango’ as he hummed to it. He had been angry ever since the two of you had a fight during lunch break.

You thought he would’ve calmed down by now, but the way he was driving told you otherwise. You wanted to scream, yell, and tell him to slow down, but no words dared to come out of your mouth when the speed of the car was still rising. Your grip on the car seat was so tight that you could feel your nails painfully digging through it. You always seemed to freeze when Billy got angry, feeling helpless, as did Max.

“Would you look at that?” He hummed excitedly, pointing towards a van, and your head was quick to cock in the direction he pointed, eyes squinting before you realized who the car belonged to.

You could recognize that set of curly hair and that messy van from anywhere, and your eyes widened. Eddie was standing two cars ahead of you. “Billy…” You called out his name as Max’s head popped up at your shaky voice. Realizing what was going to happen, you stood frozen.

“Isn’t that the freak of Hawkins, huh?” Billy smirked, nudging your shoulder. Your eyes were focused on the road, and as Billy was pushing the gas with all the force he had, you bit the inside of your cheek.

“You always hang out with that asshole at school, yea? Let’s see if he wants to see you after too, huh?” He smirked, with a harsh steer of the wheel, he passed the car in front of him, shaking the three of you.

Your nails dug further into your seat. “Billy, this is not funny.” You screeched while Billy gave you another chuckle, almost as if he was enjoying it.

“Billy.” You spoke up again to get his attention, but he just faked a pout at your terrified face as he kept tapping his fingers to the rhythm of Wango Tango.

“Stop it, Billy!” You yelled this time; your heart was pounding in your ears, and your hands were shaking with fear as you attempted to gain his attention.

The loud noises Billy provided and the roaring engine of the car caused Max to sink into her seat, covering her ears in an attempt to drown out all the voices.

That sight of her alone made your blood boil. You turned to Billy with a roll of your eyes. “Will you stop?” You asked, eyes fiery, but your voice remained calm; you were still afraid of aggravating him further.

“Stop what, baby?” Billy said in a mocking tone, his feet further digging into the gas as the speed of the car rose again. He gave you another playful smirk.

Your eyes squinted in fury; the anger bubbling inside of you was getting harder to ignore, and with just one car ahead you knew he was getting closer to Eddie.

“Stop it,” you said with a stern voice this time, fingers still shakily holding onto your seat. But he ignored you once again.

“Billy fucking stop it.” You warned with your raised voice, heartbeat picking up when he steered the wheel harshly to pass the other car standing between him and Eddie.

This was like some fucked up dick measuring contest to him; he didn’t even fucking care that Max was in the car, possibly having a panic attack in the back.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your clammy hands pounded against his shoulders in an attempt to get his attention, but he was still mocking you, singing along to the song loudly.

All of it made a buzzing sound to Max; she was used to this by now, from her parents and from the two of you. So she shut all of it off, covering her ears, watching almost in slow motion as you kept on hitting Billy, pleading with him to stop.

He was getting closer and closer, and you nervously bit your lips, legs bouncing up and down since you knew Eddie probably had no fucking idea because of how careless he was when he drove with that metal music blasting through his speakers.

“I told you to fucking stop!” You screeched again, face feeling hot as you repeated it like a mantra. Your whole body tensed as you looked back on the road and saw how close he had gotten to Eddie’s car. He was probably still oblivious, and anxiety gnawed at your insides. You needed to do something, and you needed to do it now.

Your head turned to the side of the road, gaze stuck on how it was mainly grass. Maybe if you could turn the car off the road...

You looked back at Max to make sure she had her seatbelt on and was safe in her seat. You didn’t care if your idea was stupid or careless; your logic went out the window the second you saw how willing Billy was to hurt Eddie in any fucking way.

With a deep breath, you quickly grabbed a hold of the wheel. With no other idea in mind, you forcefully turned it off the road, shaking the three of you in an instant. Your head hit the back of your seat, but you didn’t care. Eddie was safe.

Billy cursed you out and stepped on the pedal with force. The impact was hard on you, but again, you didn’t care; he couldn’t possibly hurt Eddie now.

Billy’s stupid song on the radio was all that filled the car now, and all you could do was groan. Your head was pounding when you tried to face Max, she was curled up in a ball, shaking like a leaf, and that sight alone was enough for the fear jolting through your entire body to turn into rage.

What the actual fuck was wrong with him?

Feeling suffocated, you quickly opened the door. With a quick struggle, you managed to get out, inhaling a deep breath as the fresh air around you provided you with a little sense of comfort.

But it didn’t matter. You were out of his car, and Eddie was safe.

You dropped your hands to your knees, breathing raggedly as you attempted to calm yourself, ignoring the sound of Billy exiting the car and slamming the door shut rather loudly, cursing you out.

Your head perked up in anger, and your eyes were livid as you rushed to his side. He was still in shock when you pushed him by his shoulders harshly. Your tears were now escaping freely when the realization of what happened hit you.

“What is wrong with you?” Your voice was loud, and you were a babbling mess with how much you were sobbing. Billy stood still while he hollowed his cheeks in anger, waiting for your tantrum to be over.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You repeated, and your hands were quick to pound against his chest again, but before you could make any contact, he grabbed both of your wrists in an instant, causing you to look up at him with glossy eyes.

“Me?” Billy asked, chuckling ironically. “You drove the fucking car out of the road! And you’re fucking asking me what is wrong?” He let go of your wrists harshly as he rubbed his hands against his cheek. A humorless smile played on his lips as he let out a short chuckle that burned with anger and resentment.

“Are you insane, Billy?” You asked; you were still yelling, but now your tone was more composed, and your tears were drying out. “Are you fucking crazy?” You asked, not expecting an answer.

“You were going to get us killed! You… you were going to get him killed!” Your muscles tensed.

He laughed sarcastically, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s about him, isn’t it?” He pinched his brows together, taking a step closer toward you. “You got mad because it was that asshole Munson kid, wasn’t it?” His jaw was clenched, but this time it felt like his anger had turned to hurt.

“Oh, my god.” You chuckled ironically, your hands hitting your forehead in disbelief. “Are you kidding me, are you fucking kidding me, Billy?” You asked, genuinely this time.

“Billy, you could have hurt us! You could have hurt Max! You scared the shit out of her!” You yelled, and Max’s head perked up.

“This isn’t about Eddie, Billy. This is about you acting like a fucking maniac!” You were shaking with anger.

His voice, once filled with anger, softened into a gentle tone as he realized the impact he had on you.

You were afraid of him.

And a wave of guilt washed over him, the familiar wobble of your lips reminding him of his mom, a sense of déjà vu overwhelming him completely and leaving him feeling small and ashamed. “Are you okay?” His anger had disappeared on a whim now.

Your eyes were fixated on the ground now, lips pursed as you were unable to give him an answer. Billy heaved a sigh, ignoring all of what you had said. “Let’s just… let’s get going.” He murmured; his anger was now washed away with sadness, something you rarely saw Billy in. The realization that you were afraid of him tore at his conscience and ate away at him.

He attempted to softly grab your arm, but you withheld, “No! I’m not getting in that car with you.” You yelled, face souring.

“Baby, just... please.” His voice was soft, it was boggling how fast he could go from scaring the shit out of you to being soft all over again.

The nickname further angered you; he didn’t get to use it to soften you after what he did. “No, Billy, you almost fucking hurt us!” You exclaimed.

You breathed before you continued your rant, “I’m done trying to help you, trying to help you do better, because you’re a selfish fuck who does whatever he wants!” You screeched. “You don’t even care who you hurt in the process, Billy! Look at Max, fucking look at her!” You were screaming the last words, and your sobs had returned, Billy was stunned in front of you.

He took a step back, his eyes filled with regret, and he reached out to gently hold your trembling hands, but you flinched.

He swallowed hard; the weight of his guilt threatened to crush him. He finally saw that familiar mix of fear and vulnerability in your eyes, you always looked at him like that after an argument.

He squeezed his eyes shut to avoid any tears, and to escape the guilt, he couldn’t cry—no, not in front of you. “Just leave me the fuck alone, Billy.” You spat out while Max was still watching from afar.

“I’m… sorry.” Billy let out weakly and you scoffed at him, knowing that sorry would not fix anything that he just did, you turned your back around to start walking away from him. “Please… just come with me, I can’t leave you here.” He pleaded desperately; you had never heard him like this before, and you were doing everything in your willpower to not turn around.

“I’ll… Fuck—I’ll drive slow, okay?” His voice rang in your ears, but you didn’t care; you were going to keep walking away from him and his anger.

At least that was your plan, until Max finally opened her car door.

“Please, just come with us…” She murmured, her tone so meek and afraid that you couldn’t bear to say no to her.

You didn’t want to leave her alone with Billy. You heaved a sigh of breath, her second ‘Please’ stopping you dead in your tracks before you turned around to meet her fearful eyes.

You looked back at Billy with a spiteful look, almost to let him know that this was only for her, then you walked back to the car.

The ride home was filled with a dreadful silence, Billy stole a few glances at you to make sure you were okay, your eyes remained on the road, and Max fiddled with her fingers as she pretended to listen to her Walkman.

When he dropped you off that day, you were sure that was the last time you were going to be with Billy.

But as usual, your promises to yourself meant nothing; you couldn’t help but soften immediately when Billy held you as you sobbed in his arms, his fingertips gently caressing your face as he kissed away your sadness, tasting your salty tears on his tongue.

It was always messy. But everything with him was messy. His calloused hands wrapped around your frame tightly, but still, his kisses were gentle.

The fights always ended with you in his arms, bodies wrapped around each other, as he murmured compliments in your ear, affirming how much he loved you and how afraid he was of losing you.

This was the Billy that only you get to see, and it was different compared to the Billy he portrayed himself to be in public; he was still filled with anger, and he was still an asshole, but he always knew what to say to get you hooked on him, and he treated you with kid gloves whenever he noticed how he had fully broken you.

It was a cycle at this point, each time getting worse as Billy’s anger got more uncontrollable. He would get mad at you, it would turn into a full blown argument, and you would be a sobbing, blabbering mess. When he realized how much he had fucked up, he would finally soften, trying to mend what he had ruined. It was a cycle you didn’t dare get out of, suffocating you further.

NOW.

He would always talk about how afraid he was that he would turn into his father. What a fucking joke, you thought to yourself, wanting to laugh at the irony of that asshole. That haunting memory replayed in your head like some kind of a never-ending nightmare. Your mind was playing tricks on you, and you couldn’t help it. By the time you got home, the only thing you could do was plop yourself on your bed.

Tears streaming down your cheeks weren’t any of your concern; the dusty and mess filled house should’ve been, but all you could do was lay down and let it all out.

You fell asleep like that, laying in a fetal position, sobbing until your tears dried out. And that’s the last thing you remembered before you heard a faint thud.

Thud.

Your head snapped up quickly at the sound, groaning as you curiously headed to the source of the annoying tapping noise.

Something—or rather, someone was tapping something against your window and you were going to give them a piece of your fucking mind—

You approached the window furiously, almost yanking the sheer curtains as you saw that curly head, and you knew instantly.

Eddie?

You opened the window with a roll of your eyes. “Are you insane?!?” You yelled, getting his attention before he threw another rock.

“Thank fucking god! I thought you were dead!” He yelled back, huffing as your face appeared in the window.

“What?”

“I called your landline like a thousand times!” He breathed; He was wearing one of his own band tees, a guitar pick was adorning his neck, and his curls were more defined now. And you hated how the first thing you thought was how good he looked.

“I haven’t been here in five years, you doofus! I don’t think it even works.” You shook your head, and even though the two of you were supposed to be mad at each other, you couldn’t help it when your lips etched into a smile.

You ruffled your hands through your hair, he threw the pebbles he had in his hand to the ground, dusting them off before he turned his attention to you. “C’mon, let’s go.” His voice lowered this time, eyes hopeful and so beautifully brown that you wanted to drown in their warmth.

“What?” You asked, a baffled look overtaking your features.

“I want to take you somewhere.” He shrugged, head hanging high to keep your gaze.

You sighed. “Eddie, what are you–”

He groaned. “Just get in.” He almost sounded demanding, and your brows pinched together before he muttered out a “Please.”

He could hear your grunts before you closed the window, cursing him out as you hurried off for a change of clothes.

You didn’t know what the fuck the two of you were going to do, but it didn’t matter.

Eddie wanted to take you somewhere, and now you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered. Because it meant something, it meant that this could be fixed. That there was still some hope.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson series #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #getaway car series #getaway car

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disneyprincemuke · 5 days

Text

sick little games * op81

neither you nor oscar can believe the predicament you’ve found yourselves in.

pairings: oscar piastri x female!reader

word count: 1.4k

(f1 masterlist) | (series masterlist)

(prev)

you’d left the restaurant immediately after the newscaster finished talking. you’d lost your appetite after finding out that the man you’d hit on was possibly a ghost. you simply ordered a sandwich to go — frankly because you’re honestly still quite hungry — paid and then left to head back to your apartment.

oscar trailed behind you all the way back, not another word uttered between you.

on your way back, it started to make sense for you. when you first bumped into him, the confused stares weren’t from you stopping in the middle of the crowd, but from the fact that you were talking to yourself. and even then, the waitress’s hostility and confusion should have been the nail in the coffin.

you hadn’t even questioned the way that she only brought you 1 glass of water instead of 2.

you open the door to your apartment and turn around after stepping in, oscar still standing in the hallway with his hands clasped in front of him. you raise your eyebrows. “what are you doing? come in.”

“really?” oscar asks in shock. “i mean, you don’t have to invite me inside… like, i’m a stranger.”

“what?” you scowl in disbelief. “you’re a literal ghost — what are you going to do, murder me?”

he blinks at you. “too soon.”

“just come in so nobody else thinks i’m going insane talking to myself,” you scoff, beckoning him inside. “stop the whining.”

you close the door when he steps into your apartment. you almost want to giggle at yourself for holding the door open for a ghost and waiting for him to walk in. but you swallow the giggle you feel bubbling because you can only imagine how difficult it is especially for oscar.

oscar lingers next to you as you take off your shoes, looking down at his feet. “do you think i can take my shoes off?”

“i don’t know,” you glance over your shoulder and watch him seriously ponder at the thought, “you’re the ghost — try it.”

he blinks, “you don’t think i’d dirty your apartment floor if i keep them on, right?”

you tilt your head and sigh. you stand up straighter and turn to face him. “but didn’t we bump into each other? means if i reach out right now,” you hold your arm out and hover it over oscar’s shoulder, “i would hit you.”

“i guess?” oscar scrunches his face and looks down at your hand. “hit me.”

you hesitate for a moment. can he even feel pain? so you reach forward with all intentions of hitting him and even wound your arm back slightly to do some damage.

a soft shriek emits from you when you stumble forward and your fingertips jab into the wall supposedly behind him. “what?” you squeak, quickly stabilising yourself in disbelief. “i swear i bumped into you when we met!”

“you did!” oscar says with a sigh, throwing his head back. “i don’t get it!” he darts his hand out to grab your wrist, eyes widening when his hand passes through you. he gasps, “why does it do that? i swear i bumped into you earlier!”

“i don’t know! you’re the ghost!” you shriek, now walking further into your apartment. “you’re asking me like i’ve got a degree in parapsychology!”

oscar tilts his head as follows you in. “para-what?”

“study of paranormal activity!” you sigh. “my sister used to be obsessed with this type of stuff before our parents got separated and moved to different ends of the country. she’s a very investigative person.”

“i’m sorry, i didn’t… i’m sorry about your parents,” oscar shrugs, frowning slightly. he watches you take a seat on your couch and throw your sandwich next to you. “and your sister. i’ve got 3 of my own back in australia and i grew up in the uk.”

you suck in a deep breath and sink into the couch. you realise you’re not entirely in the position to be freaking out as much as you are. you have to give it to oscar for staying calm in the past hour. you know that if you were in his position, you would not have taken it as well. in fact, you think you might even go crazy if you woke up one day with little to no recollection of events as a ghost.

and to find out from some random news clip to a restaurant with someone you've never met?

“i’m sorry. that must’ve been really hard on you,” you sigh, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees. “how do you feel? about everything?” you turn your head and realise that he is still standing and hovering by your couch. “why don’t you sit down?”

“it’s not my house — i don’t want to feel too at home as a guest,” oscar shrugs simply. he points at the empty spot next to you for permission. you nod and move the paper bag to the ground by your feet and he laughs as he takes a seat. “i doubt i’d deform your sandwich if i sat on it, by the way.”

“it’s on and off again. this sandwich is my overdue lunch and i’m not taking any chances,” you snort with a small grin. “this must be a little overwhelming for you.”

he shrugs and leans back. “it is. i don’t even remember waking up today, i’d just regained consciousness walking down the street before i bumped into you. it was like a video game — spawned out of nowhere.”

“this game is not going to be fun, by the looks of it,” you mutter, earning yourself a soft chuckle from oscar. “you can stay here until…”

“i’m not a ghost anymore?” he prompts.

“technically not a ghost 'cause you’re not…” you’re trying to choose your words carefully. you don’t want to trigger anything if you don’t know him that well just yet. “you know.”

“dead,” he points out firmly with a finger pointed at you. “let’s be realistic — i could be a ghost. i don’t even know how critical my condition is.”

you press your lips together and drop your gaze to the ground. you mirror his position on the couch and lean back with a sigh. “we should really stop talking about it, don’t you think?” you whisper hopefully.

he shakes his head. “i need to know what happened to me and who did this to me,” he sighs, shaking his head slightly. “maybe they got it wrong. maybe it was a driver error that caused my crash.”

“oscar…”

insistent, he continues to shake his head. “they wouldn’t do this to me,” he says softly with a frown, “i refuse to believe it. there’s no reason to!” oscar turns his head and meets your eyes. he sighs. “what do you think?”

you shrug. “i don’t know any of these people you’re talking about,” you say softly with a smile. “but i’ll help you, i promise.”

gen taglist: @33-81 @happy-nico @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @localwhoore @namgification @c-losur3

taglist: @lipringlrh @mess-is-my-aesthetic @vicurious28 @imsiriuslyreal @fionaschicken @pastryboyyy @spookystitchery @topgunmav1df1 @nixisracing @honethatty12 @bloodyymaryyy

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke 6futs

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missmonsters2 · 8 months

Text

Mirror, Mirror | Four

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

PART THREE

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's becoming more apparent how badly Wanda wants you that she's sure she's going crazy. Now with a fake date on hand, Wanda's not sure which is worse: the fact she's too in love with you to pretend to be interested in someone else, or that her big mouth has potentially put her in a deep(er) hole.

Warnings: best friends to lovers. shenanigans. jealousy, jealousy. sexual tension. pining. yearning. sexual thoughts. spicy (tumblr's version). stupid steve. neurotic nat. brat & stinky. bug as in shutterbug.

*explicit version will only be available on Ao3 & will be posted there after series is completed*

Note: the pre-shenanigans to the shenangians. Hope y'all enjoy heh.

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Count: ~4.8k

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Wanda lies in bed, unable to sleep, staring into the dark. She can barely make out the ceiling and idly thinks about buying blackout curtains.

As the party gets closer, the more Wanda starts to feel more anxious. She's experiencing a rollercoaster of emotions in the last few days, oscillating between excitement at the prospect of making you jealous and then feeling anxious at the thought you might not.

The entire thing is starting to feel like a bad idea, but Wanda doesn't know what to do. If she calls it off, you'll ask why, and Wanda's still too scared to admit her feelings to you. Or what if you end up thinking that Wanda wasn't actually capable of dating girls?

These repetitive lines of thought would make Wanda feel nauseated. She wishes you would simply wake up and realize your feelings for her. Wanda's never had to really chase anyone before, and chasing you is probably the hardest thing she's doing, but if it works out, then it'll also be the best thing she's ever done.

Wanda sits up, her knees pulled to her chest, as she hears shuffling around her door before a knock.

"Come in," Wanda clears her throat, pulling the blanket slightly higher up. Her heart is racing, some of it from an irrational fear of it being a murderer, and some of it knowing it was you on the other side.

When the door opens, you step in before closing the door behind you. You're in your PJs, another oversized shirt, and Wanda can't tell if you're wearing pants or not.

"Hey," Wanda smiles but realizes you can't make out the details of her face in the dark so far away. "What's wrong? It's so late, why aren't you sleeping?"

You don't answer her initially, letting the silence nip at Wanda's growing unease. Before she can say anything else, you finally speak.

"Don't do it."

"Huh?" Wanda's confused, shifting in the bed to sit closer to the end, closer to you. "What are you—"

"Don't do it," you repeat. "Don't go on a date with Darcy."

Wanda's heart leaps in her chest, and she needs to blink multiple times because there's no way you're saying that, right? There's no way you're telling her not to do this because would that mean—

"I think I'm going crazy," you mutter as you push yourself off the door and make your way toward her.

"What do you mean?" Wanda asks nervously but excited as you climb onto the bed until you're face to face with her.

As you get closer, Wanda can make out your silhouette and the expression of desire on your face. She can feel your breath on her face lightly, and it's minty and warm.

"I can't stop thinking about you," you admit, and your tone is nervous but desperate. "The more I think about you going on a date with a girl, the more I hate it."

"You do?" Wanda bites her bottom lip. She wants to feel hopeful, but your words are leaving too much open for interpretation.

You place your hand on Wanda's cheek, something you've done so many times before, but it feels different now. Every touch you give her feels electric and wired like you're grazing every nerve along her skin.

Wanda's heart is thudding painfully inside her chest. It pounds like it wants to jump out of her chest and into your hands, making a home in your warmth and softness.

Your thumb presses against her lips, getting Wanda to release her bottom lip from her teeth. "Yeah," you breathe like your heart is pounding too. "I hate it...because if you're going to date a girl, it should be me."

When your lips descend upon Wanda's, she thinks she might actually die. Your lips are soft and warm, inviting Wanda to kiss you deeper. When Wanda pushes against you eagerly, you open your mouth slightly, your tongue swiping at her bottom lip softly.

Arousal shoots through Wanda, hot and needy. She can't help the small moan that leaves her mouth, and her head is completely dizzy with want.

You take the noise as an open invitation, using your weight to push Wanda back onto the bed, straddling her lap, and keeping yourself up on your elbow.

The kiss feels never-ending, with it only ever stopping for a second for air before coming back for more. You kiss her until her lips are swollen and Wanda's throbbing for more.

When your lips start kissing the edge of her jaw and down her throat, Wanda doesn't feel like she's going to make it. Just this, and it feels like too much and too little at the same time.

"I don't think I can give you to anyone," you mumble against the skin of her collarbone. "How could I let anyone touch you like this?"

Your fingers are fiddling with the edge of her shirt before they trail along the bare skin of her stomach.

"More, more, more," Wanda's muttering with her eyes closed. She can't open them—it'd be too much. Her toes are curled in anticipation.

Your hands brush the underside of her breast, and Wanda's breath hitches. You kiss places that Wanda hasn't been kissed in a long time. Your fingers trail and touch places only Wanda's hand has been in lately. It feels completely different under your touch, working Wanda up into a spot just between the edge and falling.

Wanda's been moaning and muttering pleas for you to give her more, but you seem steadfast and taking things at your pace. Even Wanda can't rush you into enjoying and exploring her body.

"I think I've always been yours," your lips brush against Wanda's. "And you've always been my best friend. But now, you're just mine—mine in every way."

Wanda agrees. She agrees wholeheartedly and enthusiastically. She'll agree to anything you say if you just give her what she wants. It's finally rewarding her to be agreeable with you, and just as she's about to get what she wants, your mouth opens, and music comes out.

Wanda wakes up.

The faint light in her room is disorienting, and her head is still heady with desire. The music is still playing, and Wanda turns over to grab her phone, unplugging it from her charger.

7:06AM.

Turning off her alarm, Wanda tosses her phone to the side of her bed, falling back into her pillow. She stares at the ceiling, now able to make out every single detail on it with daylight.

Wanda's body is aching, and the region between her legs is still throbbing. Arousal was still trickling through her, and Wanda knew there wouldn't be enough time this morning to take care of it.

Wanda grabs the pillow beside her, smushing it to her face as she lets out a muffled scream and a long line of obscenities before she gets up.

The day would surely be long with arousal edging her.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It's been somewhat awkward to meet your eyes the last few days since that sex dream. Once the hazy lust cleared from her mind, Wanda could actually realize how mortifying it was to want you so badly that it was affecting her sleep.

Wanda tries to play it off as just being distracted, but she can tell you're starting to think something's wrong. Still, it was too difficult to look you directly in the eyes. Every time she did, she could clearly remember her erotic dream.

The way your eyes looked at her with such intensity, which was only heightened by the dark. She could still feel how warm your body was and how minty your kiss was. Goosebumps would form on her arm when she thought about how your lips were both liquid fire and icy cold against her skin.

The entire thing would get Wanda so riled up that sometimes she needed to leave your vicinity and go on a walk to cool herself down.

It was the day of the party, and the dream was finally tapering off enough that Wanda could look you in the eyes again. You seemed perplexed but relieved by the change, and you didn't push the issue since Wanda hadn't seemed upset with you.

The morning of Tony and Pepper's party, you and Wanda are running around the apartment trying to get everything in order for different things.

"Did you grab the present?"

"Um," you scrunch your nose. "Yes, it's here."

"Awesome, can you bring it with you? I'll lose it if I bring it with me," Wanda says while carefully putting on mascara in front of her standing mirror.

"What do you mean? I thought you were coming with me to pick Raye up?" You ask while looking for the ring you always wear on your middle finger.

"Um, no," Wanda's half-distracted, but it's good timing as she finishes her mascara. "I'm meeting Darcy for coffee before the party."

You're looking for your ring in Wanda's room because you vaguely recall leaving it there yesterday night when you were drinking tea with Wanda and chatting in her room. You pause your search and look at Wanda with a confused face.

"You haven't met her yet?"

"I will be in," Wanda pauses and pulls out her phone, "a couple minutes. She just texted that she's pulling up."

"What if you don't get along with her? I thought she was coming to the party," you ask, seemingly concerned about everything.

"Then I'll find out since I have an hour with her before the party. If I don't like her, then I'll Uber to the party alone," Wanda shrugs. Besides, it didn't matter if Wanda liked Darcy or not. As long as Darcy wasn't a raging asshole with boundary issues, then it would be fine. They were both aware this date was a farce.

"Are you sure you don't want me to tag along? What if she's, like, a serial killer or something?" You frown, and Wanda can't help but laugh.

"I don't think Nat would be working with a serial killer," Wanda shakes her head at your nonsense. "We're going to be at the Starbucks near Tony's house. I have my location on, so you can check it to make sure we're not deviating on the road."

You're about to say something else when the buzzer at your door rings.

"Can you let her in through the front doors? I should be ready by the time she's at our door," Wanda asks as she turns back to the mirror, applying the last touches to her match-up.

"Sure," you say, somewhat huffy, but leave.

It takes a few minutes, but Wanda eventually hears knocking and the door opening. The words exchanged between you and Darcy are muffled, but Wanda finishes, giving herself one last look in the mirror and running her fingers through her hair. As she's leaving, she finds the ring you were looking for on her desk and takes it with her.

As she enters the living room, Wanda sees Darcy immediately and assesses right away that the other woman is drop-dead gorgeous. She has dark curled hair with warm undertones in the light. Her makeup was simple, with an accentuated dark red lipstick.

"Wow," Darcy smiles as she catches eyes with Wanda, and you turn to look at her. "Natasha didn't do you justice with the photo she sent."

"You got a photo?" Wanda smiles back, able to tell that the compliment was sincere. "I didn't get anything. That seems unfair."

"Well," Darcy drags out. "Sent is a generous word. Natasha brought in a photo album. I'm sorry to say I have seen your high school and university pictures."

Wanda groans as she stands beside you, passing your ring into your palm. The entire action is wordless, which Darcy takes note of.

"You shall speak nothing of these photos," Wanda warns the other girl playfully. "And just for that, you're buying coffee."

Darcy lets out a laugh, adjusting her glasses. "Alright, Natasha did warn me you were sassy. Let's go get our luxury coffee that will be my treat."

Wanda turns to you, and you're smiling, but it seems tight. "I'll see you at the party?"

"Of course," you tell her before scrutinizing Darcy. "I'll see you in an hour on the dot."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"So," Darcy says as they're both holding their coffees. "That's the girl you're in love with?"

"Yes," Wanda sighs, finding it somehow easier to admit to a stranger that she's in love with you. Like, really insanely in love with you.

"You're playing it pretty cool. I gotta give you props for that," Darcy nods, sipping her drink.

"Do you think so?" Wanda asks, and then her eyes brighten. "Do you think she looked jealous at all? I thought she might've looked a little off or being overprotective, but then again, that could also be her just being my best friend. But she's never really acted this way before. Well, she does make sure she always knows my location for dates. But I don't know, it felt like she was being—"

"Oh my god," Darcy cuts Wanda off, blinking at the word vomit. "You're actually insanely in love with her. Emphasis on the insane."

Wanda huffs. "I know," she sighs. "I'm going crazy and I just want to know if she could feel the same way about me...without asking, obviously."

"Obviously," Darcy repeats with a smirk. "Alright, let's go over a game plan for today then. We want to show off just enough that maybe it'll make your best friend jealous but also not too much that it'll be weird if we don't have a second date. No offense and all, you're hot, but I only signed up for one date."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You and Raye are already at the party when Wanda and Darcy arrive.

"Ugh, great," Wanda grunts. "Little Miss Southern Belle is here."

"You mean Raye?" Darcy stares in the same direction and sees her coworker. "She's really nice and funny."

"Hey, you're my date," Wanda narrows her eyes. "And she's my enemy."

Darcy just raises her brow in response but says nothing.

"Wanda!" You call and wave the two of them over.

"Alright, we got this," Darcy looks over at Wanda, and they nod subtly at each other.

As they make their way over, Wanda can tell you're assessing them, but Wanda merely gives another nod that she's okay, which you seem conflicted about.

"Hey, Darcy," Raye greets her with a smile and a hug. "Fancy seein' you around here. You sure you're not using another pretty girl to sneak into a party?"

Wanda knows the comment is a compliment to her. Darcy is right that Raye is genuinely nice, and Wanda knows that Raye's eager to get along with Wanda since she's your best friend. Wanda knows all of this, but the comment still makes her bristle.

"I actually know Tony and Pepper, too," Darcy says casually after they pull apart from their hug, her lips in a half-quirk. "I've done some work for them before."

"What exactly is it that you do?" You ask.

"Cyber security," Darcy answers. "Although that may sound exciting, it's not much day to day."

"Bug was telling me over here that you two went on a date!" Raye smiles even wider.

Now she was even calling you Bug? She wasn't even there when your nickname came to be. She should create her own nickname, or better yet, just use your government name.

"That we did," Darcy says when Wanda doesn't reply. "It was pretty decent," Darcy says with a half-quirk of her lips, indicating that it was more than decent, and Wanda remembers that she needs to smile too.

"I'm just surprised that you didn't go and scare her off with your personality," Raye smirks at Darcy before she looks back at Wanda. "Everyone knows Darcy at work to be blunt and sarcastic. She usually scares away all the cute interns."

"I thought she was hilarious," Wanda smiles somewhat tightly back.

"Thank you!" Darcy cuts in dramatically, grabbing Wanda's hand. "I knew someone would inevitably see my charm. Are you thirsty? Let's go get a drink."

Darcy's about to drag you off when you suddenly grab Wanda's other hand, stopping them.

"Wait," your eyes are wide as if you're surprised yourself. "There's a videographer hired for the party. Everyone is supposed to go on camera to do a short video to say something to Tony and Pepper. I thought we should do ours together since we got their gift together."

Wanda turns back to Darcy, who looks confused and amused by the situation.

"Alright," Darcy lets go of Wanda's hand. "I'll be waiting by the bar for you. C'mon, Raye, I'll buy you a drink."

"It's a free bar, Darcy."

"I know, I'm too generous."

With that, Wanda is alone with you as you drag her towards the videographer.

"Are you okay?" Wanda asks.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You say lightly.

"I don't know," Wanda flexes her fingers in your hand. "Feels like you don't like Darcy."

"I like her just as much as you like Raye."

Wanda grunts at that. She's told you multiple times that she's neutral about Raye. Wanda doesn't dislike her, but she has no reason to like her. It's all a lie, of course. Wanda fuckings hates Raye and wishes the other girl would evaporate.

The second the camera points at their faces, the two of you smile brightly as you wish Tony and Pepper another 10 years of happy marriage so they can have this party again and continue to wish them a happy marriage in 10-year increments.

As soon as it's finished, You and Wanda seem to be dragging your feet to get to the bar.

"So," Wanda drags out before taking a deep breath and looking at you. You stare back at her, and Wanda has to bite her tongue to say she just utterly loves you, and they should both ditch their dates. "What do you think?"

"Of what?" You mumble as you look away.

"Does it look weird? Me being with a girl?"

Wanda can notice how you visibly clench your jaw, something you do when thinking about your next words carefully.

"No," you say slowly, "but you don't look any happier."

"I don't?" Wanda hums. "Darcy and I have a lot in common. She's really funny too. Besides, it's not like I'm gunning to settle down with Darcy. It could just lead to having fun."

You're silent after that, and Wanda looks at your face. You seem contemplative, but she can't read your expression further than that, so she looks away.

"I'm probably going to be home late tonight," you say after a moment, and Wanda turns her head towards you again.

"Going to be with Raye?" Wanda asks, trying to make sure she sounds airy and light, but her stomach knots tight.

"Yes," you answer, and there's not a particular inflection in your tone, leaving Wanda with no clue about how you feel.

"Sounds great," Wanda puts on a fake smile and picks up her pace to meet Darcy and Raye at the bar.

"Oh, you're back," Raye smiles at you, her pearly white teeth showing. Her cheeks are a dusty pink from the champagne she's been drinking as she drapes her arms over you, tilting her head to the side. "Wanna be naughty and steal a tray with bacon-wrapped scallops?"

Wanda has to resist the urge to loudly gag as you chuckle.

"I got you a drink," Darcy catches Wanda's attention. "One of those fruity cocktails that will definitely lead us to make bad decisions if we have three more."

Wanda smiles sultrily as she opens her body language toward Darcy, pointing to the maraschino cherry in Darcy's drink. Darcy nods that she can have it, and Wanda seductively eats the cherry before she sticks the stem into her mouth, rolling it around with her tongue before the end of the stem pops back out of her mouth. Wanda grabs it with her fingers, the other end gripped by her teeth as she pulls and tightens the visible knot.

"Wanna have four and see what happens?" Wanda smirks.

From the corner of Wanda's eyes, she can see that you saw and heard everything. Your face is expressionless as you walk off with Raye, and Wanda wants to scream with frustration.

Was that a jealous expressionless look or an indifferent expressionless?

Once they are out of earshot, Darcy snorts. "Remember when I said you're playing it cool? I take it back. You're a hot mess. You look like you're always two seconds away from pulling out Raye's 250 individual extensions."

Their conversation is briefly interrupted by the videographer as he comes up to the bar. "Hey, man," he says to the bartender. "Do you mind if I leave my camera here for a second? I really need to run to the toilet and can't leave it on the table. These kids are surprisingly grabby with their sticky hands."

"Sure, dude," the bartender agrees, and the videographer runs off after he sets down the camera a foot away from Wanda.

Wanda stirs her drink with her straw aggressively, and some ice falls out of her glass.

"I don't see what's so great about Raye," Wanda huffs. "Sure, she's pretty, and I guess she's funny. But so what? She's clearly selfish. Who the hell steals a whole tray of bacon-wrapped scallops?! Those are the best appetizers!"

Wanda throws the straw aside and drinks her fruity cocktail in one go.

"Man, you are so down bad," Darcy shakes her head. "At least you don't seem completely alone in it."

"Really?" Wanda brightens. "Why? Does she look jealous?"

"Well," Darcy sighs. "I don't know about jealous, but your friend definitely doesn't like me. Every time she smiles at me, it's a tight-lipped smile that seems to be a thinly veiled way of saying she doesn't think I'm good enough for you."

Wanda slumps. "That's nothing new. All the people I date get that look."

"Where's Natasha when I need her?" Wanda looks around but finds the redhead with Tony and Pepper. She seems to sense someone is looking at her, locks eyes with Wanda, and waves and winks.

"Listen," Darcy grabs Wanda's attention back. "Maybe you should just tell your friend your feelings. What's the worst that could happen?"

"She would know about my feelings and reject me," Wanda deadpans.

"Okay...so how exactly to plan to get with—how did you describe it at the café? The love of your life and the mother to your future children."

Wanda sighs. "I don't know. I know I should confess, but it's harder than you think. There are moments when she gets me so riled up that I wanna scream in her perfect face that I love her and probably always have, and then kiss her until we lose a couple brain cells from lack of oxygen. Then, I get so scared that she won't feel the same way and the moment dies like my will to live every time I see her with Raye."

"But you won't know until you actually say something," Darcy cocks her brow. "What if she does feel the same?"

"Then she wouldn't be with Raye!" Wanda snips but then takes a deep breath. "Sorry, it's just been hard lately. I feel like this whole fake dating scheme Nat cooked up is a bust. You're pretty cool and all, but I think I'm too in love to even pretend."

Darcy is about to say something else when the videographer returns.

"Thanks for watching it, man. Can you pour me some water with a lemon?"

"Sure."

The videographer picks up the camera, and Wanda notices that it was placed on its side but had been facing them. Once he drinks his glass of water, he takes off.

The rest of the party isn't too exciting as Wanda doesn't see you often after that. You sit at the same table as her for dinner, but Raye is too busy chatting up a storm. Raye seems intent on keeping you busy until 10PM hits, and she decides she wants to leave the party.

"I'll see you later," you tell Wanda as you say goodbye to everyone.

"I guess," Wanda shrugs, and you tilt your head at it.

Wanda knows where all of this is leading for you, but for once, she's too tired to even try to stop it. Besides, Wanda is pretty sure you've already had sex with Raye, even if it was a quickie in the back of your car when you dropped her off or picked her up at the airport.

The entire thing is too disparaging for Wanda to think about; she just wants to go home and be dead to the world.

"I think I wanna head out too," Wanda looks at Darcy, who's been sipping on water for the last few hours. Neither of you specify exactly where in the moment despite how you seem to be waiting for them to say.

The videographer approaches the group, and Wanda's confused as he greets you.

"Hey, I emailed you all the footage earlier after dinner," he says.

"Great," you smile at him. "Thanks for doing all the legwork. Sorry that Tony and Pepper want me to edit it together instead."

"You're editing the video together for Tony?" Wanda asks. "Why didn't you say?"

"Tony sprung it on me earlier today. Guess he forgot? Pepper bitched him out with love. I think," you grin. "But I don't mind. I have some free time before my next project," you shrug.

"Nah," he smiles. "I'm not complaining. I got paid twice my rate and I don't have to do the other legwork? Must be my lucky day."

"Sounds good, I'll let you know if I need anything."

"Oh, just a heads up, there was a lot of footage I didn't have time to go through, so I sent you everything. There might be some useless stuff you'll have to go through. I accidentally left my camera on a couple times. Just earlier, I realized I left my camera on every time I left it at the bar to go to the washroom," the guy laughs, but all the color drains from Wanda's face.

"No problem," you tell him, and he leaves with a wave. "Raye and I are heading out now. Have a great night, guys."

Raye is already dragging you off, but Wanda doesn't have time to be annoyed.

Oh, God, there was video evidence of Wanda confessing her feelings about you.

"I need to get that video back!" Wanda cries, her hand flying to her forehead.

She tries to not think about how you'll react or what you'll do if you see the video. She can't think about it; it will literally send Wanda into cardiac arrest.

"Alright, alright, calm down!" Darcy placates her, realizing the same thing Wanda has. "He said he emailed it to her, right? It's not like she's going to go through the footage tonight. All you need to do is get into her email and go through the footage yourself and delete it before she comes home."

Wanda starts biting her thumbnail, a terrible habit she thought she had long outgrew. "I guess, but I'd have to access her laptop, and I don't know the password. She keeps work stuff on there."

"No problem," Darcy says as she pulls out a USB and gives it to Wanda. "Just plug this in and I can help you get into it."

Wanda takes the USB and stares at it dumbfounded. She stares back at Darcy. "You're insanely cool. Emphasis on the insane," Wanda parrots back to her with a smile. "We're gonna be great friends."

"Ah, I love becoming friends with my fake dates who are deeply in love with their best friend. They're so fulfilling and not weird at all."

"You're the one carrying around a hacking USB, don't talk to me about weird."

"Alright, sassy pants, let's just get you home, shall we? Although, not before we go to McDonald's. That dinner was just unnecessary fancy food that was half the size of my fist. I've been hungry for the last hour," Darcy starts to walk off with Wanda trailing her.

Wanda had also been hungry for the last hour, but now, knowing that you could potentially see the video of her professing her love—aggressively, might she add—Wanda wanted to throw up.

Please don't check your email on your phone, please don't check your email on your phone, Wanda begs in her mind. Now, she can't tell if she wants Raye to keep you busy or not.

PART FIVE

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x y/n #avengers imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #modern avengers au #Elizabeth olsen x reader #mm: my fics

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cherienymphe · 8 months

Text

Basic Training XV (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

The rhythmic sound of Peter’s heartbeat beneath your ear was the only thing keeping you grounded. It was the middle of the night, and he was sound asleep…and you were not. You hadn’t slept well in days, not since Nat had been caught. The thought of the redhead all alone down in the basement was one that almost brought you to tears on more than one occasion, and while it was something that could’ve easily been written off as concern, you didn’t want Peter to worry.

Ever since she’d been caught, you constantly fretted over if you did the right thing or not. Would Nat’s punishment have been less severe if you’d stopped her and spun some tale like Margaret had mentioned? You supposed that it didn’t matter because what was done was done, but you couldn’t help but think about could’ve, should’ve, and would’ve.

Peter shifted some beneath you, and you lifted your head a tad, gazing at him.

It was a full moon, and Peter knew how much you liked the moon, how much you enjoyed the light of it bleeding into the room at night. You stared at him as he slept, tracing his features with your eyes and wondering if you were crazier than you thought you were. You blinked, eyes burning.

It was also days since you accepted that you couldn’t live without Peter.

It was a heartbreaking realization for a myriad of reasons. It was one thing to lack the strength to fight back so fiercely or even try to reach for your freedom, but it was another entirely to become so dependent on the man who’d ruined your life. God, if only your mom could see you, now, she’d be so disappointed. Or perhaps heartbroken.

You yourself were heartbroken.

This was the man who had a hand in the death of your friends, a hand in your mother’s grief, and yet here you were…staring up at him…

Almost like you loved him.

You looked back towards the window at that thought with a grimace, something uneasy settling in your gut at that word. It was what Peter wanted, wasn’t it? For you to love him? After all, not only would that make him happy, but in turn…you too. If everyone thought you loved him—Steve most of all—then your life would be easier. The blond would trust you, would be less critical and harsh on you.

You sat up with a shaky exhale, staring at your hands as they settled in your lap.

It seemed inevitable anyway, that you would love Peter one day, but the thought made you want to bury yourself alive. It would be the biggest betrayal and not just to your friends and mom, but most of all yourself. You didn’t deserve to be treated this way—kidnapped and basically enslaved and at the whim of some man with a disturbing upbringing. You deserved better than that, and you knew it, but deep down you knew that you wouldn’t be getting better than that.

You stared at your fingers with a frown.

…and as long as Peter was happy…he didn’t treat you badly.

You remembered feeling so angry and sad that day Jane told you that Peter was one of the good ones. It was such a preposterous stance to you, and you had pitied her then for even thinking such a thought, that any of them could be ‘good’. Now, though…now there were times you felt so grateful to have Peter. Especially when in comparison to the other husbands and the methods they liked to use to keep their wives in line.

It was a feeling you’d been fighting for some time, but you were happy to have Peter.

Your face felt colder all of a sudden, and you reached up, realizing that you’d started to cry just as you felt a light touch on your waist. The suddenness of it made you jump, and you looked over your shoulder just as Peter shifted.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” he mumbled, fatigue coating his own voice.

You shrugged, forgetting that he probably couldn’t see the action so well in the dark, when he decided to sit up too. It wasn’t long before light flooded the room, and you didn’t have time to turn your face away. The concern on his own was palpable, and you let him reach for you.

“What’s wrong?” he wondered, scooting closer. “Did you have another nightmare?”

You shook your head, unable to quite voice your internal dilemma. Peter would just tell you it was okay, and that it was a good thing to love him, but he wouldn’t understand—couldn’t understand. His hands on your arms were a comfort to you though, and you leaned into him.

“You know you’re scaring me, right?” he lightly joked. “You have to tell me what’s wrong, pretty girl…or else I can’t fix it.”

His lips grazed your hair as you leaned your head on his shoulder, just staring at the sheets. Again, you couldn’t speak, just shrugging and moving to wrap your arm around his waist. You just wanted to hold him and let him hold you for the time being. At least, that was what you thought, but as you closed your eyes and inhaled the scent of Peter, you realized you just wanted to be as close to him as possible.

Peter said nothing when you lifted your head, just looking at you in question while you looked back at him. You ran your eyes over his face, your gaze lingering on his pink lips. Peter was still as you moved closer, hesitant and a little unsure. You were thankful for that, positive that if he moved an inch, you would lose your nerve.

When your lips met his, it was light, barely a kiss, but you remained there just focusing on the feel of his lips touching yours. When you kissed him again, it was firmer, and you placed your hands on his shoulders. You deeply inhaled, gasping when his own hands curled into your hips. Peter softly spoke your name into your mouth, and you fully leaned into him.

Peter was content to fall back, letting you rest on top of him while he kissed you back.

Once you started, you couldn’t stop, tasting him and lying on top of him. Peter’s fingers were twisting into your nightgown, some white short piece of fabric he’d brought home one day after work. Your body felt fueled by something stronger than you, desperate to feel him against you and in you. You truly didn’t know why, letting your body do what it wanted, trailing kisses along his neck while his hand came up to rest on your head.

He whispered your name again, but you didn’t want to talk.

Not now, anyway.

When Peter’s hands slid up your frame, sliding the white fabric with it, you didn’t protest. You shuddered when your bare chest brushed his own, but Peter didn’t do much more. He was happy to keep kissing you, basking in the feel of resting under your weight. Every brush of his fingers made you shudder, and you pulled your face away to catch your breath.

You slowly rolled off of him, keeping your eyes on his as you did. Your fingers twisted with his own, and Peter held your gaze while you pulled him towards you. His chest was heaving, and his normally brown eyes appeared almost black to you in the low lighting. His pants were pulled away as he settled himself over you, and you reached up to touch his face.

If Peter was shocked by your reciprocation, he didn’t show it, only content to let you touch him. When you kissed him again, your hands grazed over his shoulders and back, fingers gently gliding along his skin. Peter deepened the kiss when you wrapped your legs around his waist, one hand kneading into your side while the other rested on the side of your neck.

When he finally did find his way into you, you gasped.

You just wouldn’t ever get used to the feel of him pushing into you, you were convinced. You kept your hands on his face as Peter thrust into you, slow and as if he wanted to savor the feel. Underneath Peter, it was the only time you could just exist free of all the troubling thoughts that plagued your mind. However, tonight was different.

You couldn’t stop thinking.

You clung to Peter in the hopes that maybe the feel of his body on top of yours and his cock in you would distract you from all of your thoughts, wipe your mind clean, but they were too overpowering. A shudder traveled through you when he placed kisses along your jaw, and you threaded your fingers through his hair. You just wanted him close, so close, and you couldn’t pinpoint why.

Your chest was heavy, and your eyes burned, and you realized that you were going to cry again. You held Peter’s head to your neck, hoping to keep him from looking, but you reached up to quickly wipe your face when he lifted his head. He paused, and it was hard to name the look in his eyes.

“What… Y/N, what’s wrong?” he breathed, wiping your face.

You licked your lip, staring past him and trying to keep from crying. You felt so overwhelmed, and you just didn’t know why. You felt scared and panicked, and you couldn’t stop shaking. When Peter started to pull away, you were quick to clutch his arms, keeping him against you.

“You’re scaring me,” he quietly repeated. “Talk to me, pretty girl, tell me what’s wrong.”

You realized then as Peter tried to pull away.

You didn’t want him to. You didn’t want him to ever.

“Will you ever stop loving me?”

It was clear he hadn’t expected that, and you slowly met his gaze again. You pulled your lip between your teeth as you searched his eyes, and Peter blinked. A frown formed between his dark brows, and he stared down at you like you were crazy.

“You’re asking me this now…?”

A slight smile ghosted along his lips, and it was clear he thought this was some elaborate joke until more tears fell. His smile fell as you squeezed your eyes shut, and he wiped your face again. He softly said your name, and you tried to stop crying, but you couldn’t.

“Hey…hey, look at me,” he whispered, urging you to open your eyes.

When you finally did, his expression was soft, dark eyes searching yours and drinking you in.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” he finally answered.

Your face crumbled again, and you blinked, looking towards the ceiling before meeting his eye again.

“Even if I do something bad? You won’t…you won’t hate me…?”

Peter blinked at you, his frown deepening and confusion growing.

“I could never hate you,” he assured you.

You let him go, pressing your hands to your face.

“Hey, hey, what-what is going on? What’s wrong?”

He tried to pull your hands away, and when he did, you immediately circled your arms around his neck, burying your face there. Peter let you cry, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing your back. The feel just made you cry more, and Peter shushed you. His lips grazed your ear.

“I would never stop loving you,” he whispered, reaching up and loosening your hold as he leaned back. “It doesn’t matter what you could ever do.”

You pressed your lips together, blinking at him.

“Even if I do something really, really bad?”

Peter just chuckled at you before leaning in to kiss you. It sounded like he thought your concerns were so silly, and he brushed his nose against yours.

“Look at me,” he gently told you. “It doesn’t matter what you do, I’ll never stop loving you.”

You sniffed.

“I may get really mad,” he softly said, being truthful. “…but I’ll never not love you.”

You touched his cheek, lips trembling.

“You promise?” you choked out.

Petr sighed at you, looking over your face before pecking your nose.

“I promise.”

You pressed your lips together, playing with a dark strand of his hair.

“I’ll always love you,” he slowly whispered, moving his hips again. “Don’t ever doubt that. No matter what you do.”

Peter kissed you again, finishing what you started.

Peter was asleep…and you were not.

That was becoming common as of late, and while you hated it, your mind just wouldn’t settle. Nat had been down in that basement for two weeks, now, and you’d overheard Jane telling Christine something the other day. Something about Bucky just not knowing what to do with her. It was something that challenged your mind, how he could be so cruel to the woman he claimed to love and in the same breath, feel betrayed by her simply…wanting freedom.

You didn’t understand it.

Every time you saw Bucky, you could see the toll it was taking on him. After all, Nat had escaped. She’d left and had gotten pretty far, and you knew that beneath all the hurt and anger, Bucky had been scared. He was probably still scared, and he probably wasn’t the only one. Nat had come dangerously close to blowing this whole household up, and who was to say she wouldn’t do it again?

Not to mention the pressure he was probably under from Steve.

Nat was Bucky’s wife, but her actions had affected the entire household. You wondered if Peter had a say in her punishment too, and the thought left a sour taste in your mouth. You looked over your shoulder at him where he slept, biting your lip and sliding out of bed.

You hadn’t seen Nat in weeks, and on top of it being unfamiliar to you, now, you also couldn’t go about your life all the while knowing she was down there. It was all you thought about when you cooked and cleaned. Even during dinner, there was a huge elephant in the room in the glaringly obvious empty chair beside Bucky. You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at it sometimes, a pang going through your chest at the sight of it.

All you thought about these days was Nat, especially one of the last conversations with her. Whether or not Nat confirmed she was pregnant was something you didn’t know, but it was something you worried about regularly. When Bucky did finally decide on a punishment, there was no telling what it would be, and if Nat was pregnant…

Even now, the lack of nourishment she was getting down in the basement wasn’t good for her, but doubly so if she was indeed pregnant as she’d suspected. It was that thought that drove you down the stairs, walking on light footsteps as you maneuvered your way through the house. You knew it like the back of your hand by now.

Truthfully, you didn’t know how you’d get into the basement. There were several locks on the door, one of which required a key, and you knew it was kept somewhere close to the door. You were only concerned with making the sandwich though, just thinking about Nat going without food for days on end. Yes, you were concerned for her, but you also wondered if there was some guilt eating at you.

Again, you wondered if you’d stopped her, would she even be down there?

You just wanted to help in some way, and you unsurely approached the door. You stared at it in the dark, thinking to yourself if this was something you’d get in trouble for. You couldn’t imagine why, in truth, but there were plenty of things to get in trouble for in this house. You only wanted to check on her, make sure she was well…feed her.

“Nat,” you gently called.

Only silence met you, and you remembered the steep climb from the bottom of the stairs to the door. It was possible she couldn’t even hear you. Either that or asleep, and you had hoped you could ask her where the key was, she’d know after all, but you had resigned yourself to finding it yourself when the hallway light was turned on.

You flinched, and fearing the worst, you were shocked to come face to face with Bucky instead.

He stood in the entrance where the kitchen and hallway connected, and there wasn’t much use in denying what you were doing. It was obvious, after all with the plated sandwich in hand as you stood in front of the basement door. You weren’t sure what to say, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the sight of the brunette.

He didn’t look happy to see you, but then again, like Steve, he didn’t tend to look ecstatic around you. The feeling was mutual, you supposed, the memory of him shooting Wanda in cold blood fresh in your mind as if it had happened yesterday. Shockingly, you were resolved to whatever punishment awaited you for simply trying to bring Nat some food.

“I come down here every night,” he finally said, heaving a deep sigh. “Just to…stand here, sit here…”

It wasn’t what you expected him to say, and you blinked.

“I miss her too, you know.”

Again, you didn’t know what to say, especially since he put her down there.

“…but she’s down there for a reason, Y/N.”

You looked away, gripping the plate in your hand.

“I…I just wanted to make sure she’s alright,” you finally told him.

Bucky exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at you.

“I didn’t realize you two had gotten so…close before her grand escape.”

The way he said it, something about his tone didn’t sit right with you, and you shook your head.

“Not that close,” you hurried to say. “I just… I just worry about her a lot.”

Bucky eyed you for too long to be comfortable, and you squirmed under his blue gaze. He slowly made his way towards you, and you shrank beneath his stare. You were unsurprised when he took the plate from you, eyeing you before eyeing it.

“She’s being punished…and while I appreciate the sentiment for my wife, this,” he lifted the plate. “Defeats the purpose, don’t ya think?”

You didn’t have anything to say to that, and Bucky suddenly smirked.

“Do you have any idea how much trouble you’d be in if Steve caught you down here?” he suddenly wondered, and you looked down at the mention of the blond. “Hell…I imagine Peter himself wouldn’t be happy if he knew.”

Again, you thought that you were prepared for whatever punishment that was to come for simply wanting to feed Nat. Something like that shouldn’t warrant a punishment, anyway, but you were still surprised with Bucky’s next words.

“You should go back upstairs, Y/N,” he told you, making your eyes meet his again.

Like before, you thought that Bucky looked sad, and you didn’t understand it. Not one bit.

“Believe me, I understand, I do…but she has to learn some kind of way,” he continued, making you swallow. “…and I will be telling Peter.”

Your shoulders dropped at that, and the other man chuckled to himself.

“I doubt he’ll do much, anyway, so no need to panic,” a smirk danced along his lips. “His methods for you are…soft like that.”

The way he said the word didn’t make them sound soft, at all, and your frown deepened. Bucky suddenly sighed, looking towards the basement door. You took that as a sign to go, and you walked past him.

“Hurry on to bed,” Bucky’s words traveled to you from over his shoulder. “Before Peter wakes up and can’t find his ‘pretty girl’.”

The term of endearment was said mockingly, and you pressed your lips together as you climbed the stairs.

“You know better.”

You looked down at your toes, unable to keep eye contact under Peter’s disapproving stare.

“I know,” you whispered back.

You heard him heave a sigh, and suddenly Peter was in your line of vision, kneeling before you. He looked up at you with a small frown, lips pressed together.

“I know she’s your friend,” he said, taking your hands into his. “…but she’s down there for a reason.”

That conversation with Nat was still on your mind.

“I know that,” you replied, resigned. “I just know she’s not being fed as she should and…”

You trailed off, shaking your head.

“…and that’s part of it,” Peter reminded you.

“I know, but…”

Your words died on your tongue, and you slid back onto the bed, pulling your legs underneath you. You just kept thinking about what awaited Nat…and the possible child she was carrying. It was a given that if Bucky knew or even thought she was pregnant, it would change everything. He wouldn’t want her down in the basement…

“What is Bucky going to do to her?” you finally asked Peter.

When you looked at him, he moved to sit down beside you.

“He hasn’t decided yet. Truthfully, he can’t even think about that, right now,” Peter replied. “…and don’t try to change the subject.”

Peter threw you another stern look, and you bit your lip.

“I’m…not. Not really,” you whispered, and Peter frowned. “Peter…”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, hesitantly holding his gaze.

“If Nat was pregnant, would Bucky keep her down there…?”

His frown deepened, and he looked at you strangely.

“Of course, not,” he said it as if it were obvious, almost alarmed at your question. “Why are you asking me that…?”

His gaze was inquiring, and you hurriedly stood, turning away. He softly called your name, and you pulled your lip between your teeth.

“Peter…if I tell you something…are you going to tell Bucky I told you?”

When you glanced at him again, he was standing.

“Y/N…”

He almost said your name like a warning, and you suddenly regretted even opening your mouth. Peter could probably see the sentiment on your face, and he hurried towards you.

“Is Nat pregnant?” he demanded, taking your arm.

You opened and closed your mouth, glancing down. You heard Peter sigh, loosening his hold on your arm and rubbing his hand up and down it.

“I won’t tell Bucky you told me,” he whispered. “I promise, but…you need to tell me. Is she pregnant?”

“I…I don’t know,” you honestly replied. “Before she left, she…she told me that she thought she was.”

When you met Peter’s eye, he was tilting his head to the side, a deep frown between his brows.

“What?”

It came out curt, barely repressed shock there. You hurried to quell whatever negative emotion was threatening to bubble up.

“She didn’t know for sure,” you rushed out. “She just said she thought she was. I don’t know if she ever confirmed it, and then…then she was gone.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

There were accusations in his tone and eyes.

“…because! She…she didn’t even know for sure, and Bucky should be the one to know first. I assumed she would’ve told him,” you defended yourself, your words not completely untrue. “…but when he put her down there, that’s when I realized that she hadn’t. He would never put her down there if he thought she was pregnant, right?”

You watched Peter exhale, running his hand through his dark hair as he stared at you.

“No…he wouldn’t,” he reassured you, nostrils flaring. “This is serious, Y/N.”

You shuddered at the anger in his voice.

“I know,” you whispered.

“…and you didn’t say anything. Do you realize the damage that could already be done if she is or—God forbid—was pregnant?”

“I know,” you said, much, much quieter this time. “I’m sorry. She didn’t even know for sure, and I didn’t… It wasn’t my place to tell him that. I thought it was something that should be shared between them.”

You hesitantly looked at Peter again, watching him run his hands down his face.

“I will talk to Bucky,” he eventually told you, voice even as he eyed you.

The look in there made your heart sink, and you found yourself wondering what you just sacrificed to make this easier on Nat.

“You should’ve said something…” he continued when you nodded. “We need to know anything important that involves you guys.”

You nodded again, and Peter took your face into his hands. He stared into your eyes, thumbs brushing along your cheeks as he regarded you.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me? Any other important detail I need to know?”

The sight of Nat looking into your eyes that night was at the forefront of your mind, and still, you shook your head.

“No,” you quietly said. “Just that.”

Peter let out a breath, nodding before leaning in to press his lips to your forehead. He lingered there for a moment, just breathing you in.

“No more secrets. Do you understand?”

You started to nod when he made a noise of disapproval.

“Do you understand…?”

He pulled back, meeting your gaze. You reached up, wrapping your hands around his wrists.

“Yes, Peter.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the lie.

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker #dark peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction

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lincolndjarin · 9 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty one : te mirci't

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 9.0k

summary : reader does a lot of thinking, and a lot of expressing of said thoughts

warnings, etc. : language, angst, canon typical violence, smut smut smut smut, p in v smut, food play sort of kind of, din djarin nearly creams his pants over the concept of domesticity, sort of a dom/sub thing, switch!reader & switch!mando, din has a breeding kink and it's addressed, reader has like zero chill this chapter, dirty talk, men whimpering (hooray!), light bondage, use of handcuffs, unprotected sex

a/n : ik y'all are hype about breeding kink din but i'm gonna real quick say that i will not throw in like a surprise pregnancy in this fic, cause it hasn't been tagged with that thus far and sometimes it irks me when i'm knee deep in a fic and suddenly the reader is pregnant without warning and it wasn’t tagged,, so yeah. it would be different if i advertised this as a pregnancy fic from the get go but i didn't so i'm not gonna spring that on people. (reader could still potentially end up pregnant at the END of the fic (possibly maybe who knows) but there will not be any surprise pregnancy, sorry!) that's it lmao, just wanted to throw that out there.

“It means I love you.”

You aren’t entirely sure how long you stare at him, looking rather silly with your jaw practically on the floor.

How many times has he said it without you even knowing? How long has he loved you? Maker, your mind is racing as you try to recall when the first time he said it would have been.

You’ve already said it to him.

Albeit you didn’t realize what you were saying but you’d said those words to him. And hearing you say them had worked him up so much that he’d fucked you like it was his last night alive.

He doesn’t seem to have much to say now that he’s dropped that bomb on you. You just stare at each other in this blistering silence for an eternity. Until the smell of burning has you shooting out of bed, scrambling towards the oven as you grab the lone oven mit off the counter, removing the smoking baking trays quickly, propping open the single window above the sink and tossing the ruined cakes under the faucet.

“Kriff.” You lean up against the counter, staring at where he’s currently getting up from the bed to join you. Are you a terrible person if you just ignore it? Because currently the last thing you want to do is think about it. “I’m gonna start a new batch, I lost track of time with this one.” You whisper towards him, never actually meeting that thin black line of his helmet.

“You don’t have to say it back.” He whispers back to you, taking a seat at the table.

You know you don’t have to.

Honestly the pressure of having to say it is the least of your worries. The most troubling part of this situation is the question that now plagues you which is, do you love him?

You rinse out the last batch of batter from the bowl before starting a new one.

You’ve always been so hesitant with him. Even from the start. You wouldn’t let yourself think about him, then you wouldn’t let yourself feel for him, care for him, want him. At one point you wouldn’t even let yourself like him.

So to think about if you love him?

The only thing you’ve ever let yourself do is hate him. And you never even really did that.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He leans forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees.

Shit. You’ve been quiet for too long.

“I’m fine, sorry, just… upset about the cakes.” You both know it’s a lie. But neither of you says a thing. He just nods. You work in silence, willing your mind to think of anything else as you scrape the burnt cake tin off into the sink before refilling it with the new batch of batter. As you slide the tin into the oven you turn, unable to face him you turn your gaze elsewhere, to the single shelf in his home.

A few days ago when you were here it was covered in assorted pieces of metal and scrap. Now it’s mostly bare. In a desperate attempt to change the subject you walk over, picking up one of the few remaining scraps.

“What happened to all your stuff? You hold a small metal ball between your fingers as he walks up behind you, resting his head on your shoulder as he leans down. You feel the chill of beskar against your skin.

“I used it all.” He’s still being far too vague about all this and you frown, holding the ball up in front of his face.

“You forgot this piece.” He takes it from you as you say it, you don’t remember him taking his gloves off but they are, his bare hands holding it like it’s a precious gemstone.

“This isn’t a part of my secret project,” He murmurs, rolling the ball between his fingers. “this belonged to the kid.”

You have to remind yourself not to pry, that you promised yourself you’d let him talk about it on his own. His free hand snakes around your waist as he stares longingly at the metal piece, you say nothing, giving him the option to go on if he wants. After a brief moment of pause, he continues.

“I tried to buy him a proper toy. Just once. He used to play with this, I thought maybe he was just bored because we spent so much time on the Crest. On one of my jobs I stopped and got him this little stuffed frog toy.”

You think of the frog he picked up from the lake all those moons ago. A pang of sorrow in your chest.

Every time he talks about the kid it seems like he’s talking more to himself than to you, this time is no different. He adjusts himself, standing up straighter so his chin rests atop your head now. He sways you gently to a song that only he hears.

“He tried to eat the damn thing, I tried to explain that it wasn’t for eating but he didn’t seem to care. Once he realized I wasn’t gonna let him eat it he lost interest, threw it into the fresher and went off to find this again.” He sets the ball back onto the shelf and just holds you for a moment. Just when you’re about to reach down to touch the hand he’s resting on your stomach he speaks again, in a whisper, like he isn’t sure he wants you to hear what he’s saying. “I used to worry that he was bored. Spending so much time on the ship with just me, without any of the things a child usually grows up with.” His grip on your waist tightens. “I thought for the longest time that he’d be happier somewhere else. Now I wonder if maybe he was content with what we had.”

The more you let him talk out his feelings the more you realize that deep down Din is one thing above all.

Someone who doesn’t think he is deserving of love.

You turn around in his grip so you’re facing him and don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist, holding him tight. You might not be ready to tell him you love him but that doesn’t mean you can’t show him that he is cared for. He doesn’t move for a moment but eventually holds you back.

He makes no effort to pull away so you don’t either. Staying like that until you have to get the cakes out of the oven before you burn another batch. He follows you in silence as you set the new batch on the table, he reaches for one and you smack his hand away.

“You’re gonna burn your hand, stop that. And I still need to frost them.”

You turn back to the book for the recipe, happy that the two of you seem to be in mutual agreement to not talk about the current situation. As you start pouring the sugar to make the icing you hear a hiss of air, on instinct you turn to face the noise, not realizing until it’s too late that you shouldn’t.

You should feel regret.

But Maker, how could you.

Your eyes fixed on the way he parts his plush lips to take the chunk of pastry he tore off into his mouth, his finger lingering on his bottom lip and that tongue. Darting out to lick his fingers clean. The way the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. You know you shouldn’t look, he’s got the helmet pulled up just enough that you can see the tip of his nose which means he doesn’t even know you’re looking, there’s metal between his eyes and you. You can’t, this is so bad, shit. You just keep finding reasons to not look away, especially now that he’s smiling. You always thought his smile would be condescending, maybe a triumphant smirk, but it’s so… dorky. He’s got such a dopey grin.

Stars, he’s got a dimple.

Are you still breathing?

And you can finally see the facial hair you’ve only ever felt brush up against you. Surprisingly well kept, with a few small bare patches. You want nothing more than to lean forward and kiss each one of them but you’re quickly reminded of how bad this entire situation is as you hastily turn back around. Stirring the bowl in front of you, acting as if nothing happened. Only a few seconds after you’re facing the counter again do you hear the airlock reseal.

You hear a sharp inhale and a part of you worries he knows you accidentally looked but he hisses again before cursing.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” You can hear him breathing heavily through his mouth into the modulator.

Thank the gods.

“I warned you.” You chastise him, turning around and pouring a generous amount of the cinnamon sugar icing onto each of the cakes while they’re still hot so it absorbs into them. “These need to sit overnight in the conservator.”

“Okay, should I put them in now or when I get back tonight?”

You know what he’s really asking.

He wants to know if he’ll be staying with you or coming home alone.

The answer is obvious to you as you nudge the conservator open with your foot, sliding the tins onto one of the shelves.

“I’ll do this now since you won’t be around to. Should we go?” You slip your shoes back on, watching as a bit of tension leaves his shoulders.

“Sure.”

★

It’s a quiet walk back but it isn’t really uncomfortable. You just want to get him back to your room, where he’ll hopefully help you forget about this whole mess.

You waste no time when you get to your chambers. You drag him to the closet, struggling to remove his armor, carefully setting each piece on the floor while he simultaneously lifts your shirt up over your head. Once you have every piece of beskar removed, you find yourself tumbling to the floor as he practically tackles you into the blankets. Both of you fumble for the lamp until finally you manage to flip the switch and it’s like he can’t get the helmet off fast enough because in what feels like a single second, you’re shrouded in darkness, you hear the the sound of air, a thud onto the ground, and his lips are on yours.

You’re waiting for something more to happen, he’d been so urgent just a moment ago but now that you’re here he’s just kissing you.

Of course you aren’t complaining. Every kiss with him feels like a blessing from the Maker themself. You’re just a little surprised.

You had sort of hoped he had plans to ravage you solely for the purpose of distracting you from the question, still searing your every thought, demanding your attention. But instead he kisses you one last time before laying atop your chest, arms wrapped around you. You think about teasing him but there’s something cathartic about this. His willingness to just be with you without searching for more. So you let him.

And when he inevitably falls asleep, his monstrous snores filling the small space, you’re left alone with your thoughts.

Well, thought.

Do you love him?

Do you want to love him?

Loving him means too much.

You tangle your fingers in his curls, in an attempt to soothe yourself.

Loving him is complicated. It means you’ll have to finally answer the rest of the questions you don’t want to so much as think about.

Kids? Marriage? Kodo? Any sort of future.

Loving him puts him at risk.

He’s always been at risk. His choice to love you meant putting his life on the line. Everyday he wanted to be yours was a day that he could be dragged off by one of your husbands unlimited guard members and killed.

Loving him means understanding that you’re on a clock. A clock to get off of Naboo as quickly as possible, to somewhere far away to hunker down. To hide from the inevitable onslaught of search parties that would come after a missing royal.

They’d send bounty hunters.

Kodo doesn’t even like you, but if you ran off with the man he hired to protect you? He would stop at nothing to get you back. The thought of what he would do to Din when he inevitably found the two of you makes your blood run cold.

But you need to push those thoughts away. Yes, they are important but they shouldn’t impact your feelings. Because at the end of the day you either love him or you don’t.

And you can’t even seem to figure that out.

You’ve never been in love before, you don’t really have a frame of reference.

You’ve certainly never felt for anyone the way you feel for him.

Is that love?

If you weren’t already married would you have said it back?

You aren’t even really a wife at this point.

You’re a prisoner.

You aren’t sure when he woke up but he brings you back to reality with a kiss to your chest.

“You should be asleep, princess.” His voice is gravely, still thick with exhaustion. You run your hands along his vast shoulders in an attempt to soothe him back to sleep.

“So should you.” You whisper into the darkness, he hums softly in response.

It goes quiet again. His arms tighten around you and you know he remains awake, every so often he’ll place a chaste kiss to your breast.

Would it be cruel to bring it up again?

At this point he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest that you didn’t reciprocate the sentiment and you can’t keep fighting these battles alone.

If you love each other, talking about these things is something you would do.

It might be nice. To not be alone with these thoughts for once.

“Din?”

He hums again in response. You feel the scratch of his stubble against your chest as his head turns in your direction.

You should let him sleep. Shut up and not bother him with this.

“What does love mean to you?”

It’s such a corny question but you really are curious.

“What did you say?” For a moment you’re worried you’ve upset him but his tone makes you think he genuinely didn’t hear you.

“What’s it like, to love someone?”

He chuckles softly and a wave of relief washes over you.

“That’s an awfully complicated question, cyare.”

“Okay, then, how did you know?” You purposefully avoid saying the words, “that you loved me.”

“It sort of snuck up on me. It started my first week with you, when being with you started feeling less like a job and more like an honor.”

Does he have to be so good with words? Even in this state, barely awake, he manages to be a goddamn poet.

“Eventually it got to a point where I couldn’t ignore it anymore.” He mumbles his words into your skin.

“When was that?”

“When you gave me a birthday.”

Right before he had ended things.

You don’t have to ask to know now that that's why he did it.

“And that was when you were sure?”

“Yes. That was when I knew I loved you.”

If he’s upset about you not saying it back he doesn’t make it known, he says it so casually.

“What does it feel like?” You run your fingers along the scar on the back of his head.

“It feels like being afraid. There is a certain vein of fear that I had never known prior to meeting the kid, when I los-“ He hesitates. “When he left, I didn’t think I’d ever feel that fear again.” He sighs. “When I met you I learned how to be afraid all over again.”

You sort of understand that feeling.

You felt it when you thought Kodo knew. And you felt it when you imagined Kodo’s reaction to your hypothetical children with Din.

You felt it just moments ago. When you asked yourself if you loved him.

“It’s like all the air leaves the room, replaced with terror. That terror eats away at everything until there’s nothing left.”

All you can think of is the night you found him in the hallway, and you’re certain you’ve never felt that level of fear.

“It’s not all fear though. I assume it’s different for everyone but the fear is only a part of it. For me it mostly feels like devotion and temptation. I know what it is to be devoted, for decades I followed my creed without question, and when I finally did abandon it, it was a matter of life and death, fueled by that fear.”

He sounds half asleep as he says it, like he’s telling himself a bedtime story, and you don’t dare interrupt.

“That’s how I feel about you, except in your case, nothing could make me question my devotion to you, not even a matter of life and death. And as far as temptation goes…” He laughs quietly to himself. “I was unfamiliar with that feeling before you.”

“Temptation?” You whisper to him.

“When will you understand what you are to me, sarad’ika?” He sits up a little, you can’t see him but you feel his nose bump against your jaw as he rests his face in the crook of your neck.

“I know how you feel about me, you tell me quite often.” You’re only half-joking.

“Not how I feel about you, what you are to me. You are so much more than the one I never meant to love, I swear you were created just to tempt me.” You let your hand rest on the nape of his neck as he absentmindedly brushes his lips up against your throat. “If you asked me to remove my helmet, I would.” He murmurs against your throat.

That’s a rather serious claim.

“You could have asked me from the moment I met you. It took time for me to realize I loved you but I have always, been sworn to you.” His fingers trail up and down your torso. “From the moment I first saw you, when you tried to remove my helmet, I promised myself that if you ever tried again, that I wouldn’t stop you.

Maker.

How the fuck do you respond to that?

“We can talk more in the morning. Get some sleep.” He kisses your temple and lays back down against your chest.

He can be annoyingly eloquent when he wants too. You can’t help but wish you were as capable of putting your feelings into words the way he does. Seriously, how are you supposed to top, “When I met you I learned how to be afraid all over again.”

Maybe tomorrow you could try and show him how much he means to you. Since you can’t seem to find the right thing to say, and even if you could he’s already asleep again, snoring at an ungodly volume like he didn’t just profess his profound love to you.

But talking to him helped, from how he describes it, you might just love him too.

★

This morning is much more coordinated than your last.

Din wakes you up before the girls arrive. You have plenty of time to pick out one of the simpler pink gowns in your collection, along with a matching pair of slippers. You leave him there with plenty of time to spare.

The girls don’t question it this time either. Neither of them tries to go into the closet and they waste no time dressing you. Lysa finds you a nice pink nightie from the dresser but you honestly aren’t all that thrilled about it this time around.

It’s getting harder and harder to care about this.

Being dressed up like a doll every day.

Din certainly doesn’t care about what you look like so why even bother at this point? You’re antsy to get back to him and you’re about to hastily thank and dismiss the girls as they finish but Elaine speaks first.

“Princess, would you join me for tea this morning?”

You have no logical reason to refuse and you do enjoy time spent with Elaine.

You just want to be with Din.

But you can’t tell her that.

“Certainly, shall I meet you in the gardens again?”

“I will see you there, my lady.” Both girls give you small bows before leaving. Only a few seconds after they’re gone the closet door opens and there stands your Mandalorian. He makes his way to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.

“Shall I escort you to the gardens, my lady?” He leans down a bit so your eyes are level with the line of his visor.

“Lead the way.”

It’s a short walk and you’re once again surprised by how quickly Elaine has set things up, a table and chairs wait for you in the gazebo.

“Do you think you could find something to do for a few minutes on your own?” You say quietly enough that you know only he can hear it as you approach.

He doesn’t respond but as you step into the gazebo he doesn’t follow you in, once you’re seated he walks off into the garden.

“Seems like things are better between the two of you?” She pours you a cup, making it the way you like it before handing you the saucer.

“Much better.” You smile as you take a sip.

“May I speak freely ma’am?” She sets her cup down and crosses her arms, staring at you. Her tone has gotten so serious so suddenly you’re a bit stunned.

“Of course.”

“Lysa and I stopped coming to help you undress in the evenings many moons ago, we stopped waiting for you to summon us.”

What a strange thing to say.

“Okay?” Is all you can manage, still unsure as to what she could possibly mean by that statement.

“Well, my lady, we just assumed you didn’t need the help anymore…” She stares at you expectantly but you’re still giving her a confused look. “You know…” Her eyebrows are raised but you just shake your head slowly, giving her a blank stare. “With getting undressed.”

Oh.

Not much you can really say about that, she’s right, and you hadn’t even noticed because someone else was undressing you. Still, she can’t expect you to outright admit that.

“I don’t need you to say a word, my lady, I just needed to talk to you, to warn you.” Something about her tone makes you shiver, even out here in the sun.

“About?”

“You’ve been reckless, princess.” You set your cup down.

“Spit it out Elaine, you’re making me nervous.” You laugh anxiously but her expression remains stern.

“Kodo won’t take your absence from dinner lightly. And you’ve been too blatant about your friendship with the Mandalorian. You should act with more caution.”

Well, you had wanted her to be blunt, you can’t be too shocked about that.

“He is not a man who takes kindly to disrespect. He will retaliate if you aren’t careful, that’s all.” You nod as she takes a sip of her tea.

That’s all she says on the subject, quickly moving on to another topic.

Her warning was genuine and you’re thankful for it but you push it from your mind. You will right this wrong and attend dinner with Kodo this week.

★

Tea is short after that.

You aren’t in the mood for small talk anymore, you just want to spend the rest of the day with Din.

You whisper a genuine thanks to her before she departs, and you rush over to where he stands in the flowers.

“Cabin?” He asks. Thankfully he doesn’t risk holding your hand in broad daylight but he lets his knuckles brush against yours.

“Cabin.” You follow him towards the pond and once you’re close enough he scoops you up into his arms to keep you out of the water. “Din! What if someone sees?” You whisper yell at him, eyes scanning the vacant gardens.

“This isn’t any less damning than you walking in on your own. Besides, no one’s around, promise.” He pushes open the door before setting you down, locking up behind the two of you. “I’ve lived here for long enough to know that nobody comes out this far except us. Now, what do you want for the rest of the day?” He kicks off his boots and you set your slippers next to them.

It’s past noon at this point, you have nothing planned.

“Do you want to just stay here? I think today I just want to stay here.” You walk over to the bed, lifting your skirt and taking a seat.

“Works for me, I’m going to get some chores done if you don’t mind.” He removes his gloves, tossing them on the table before kneeling beside the dresser.

“I don’t mind at all.” You scoot back a bit to rest against the wall, you’re actually quite curious to see what he’ll do, and you need time to think of how you’re going to show him how much he means to you.

You watch as he takes out different weapons and tech that you don’t recognize. He tosses his gloves to the side and starts methodically cleaning every item.

You’re sort of hypnotized by his attention to detail, it lets you think.

What does he like?

Green, you, the kid, classic ships.

None of those things can really show him how much he means to you though.

He’s setting different things aside as he finishes any maintenance required, every so often he looks up at you before returning to his work. You feel a little useless just sitting here so you get up to take the cakes out of the conservator.

Suddenly you have his attention.

You don’t dare say a word, letting him just observe in peace. He drops whatever he’s working on, you don’t look but you can feel his visor trained on you.

You take the tins out, setting them on the table before finding a dull knife. Each cake is small enough that you can fit your hands around each tin if you hold your fingers in the shape of a circle. You carve each cake out of its tin and he watches you intently the entire time, you can see him in your peripherals.

So he likes… watching you do a shitty job at taking cakes out of tins?

It’s crass but you go through the list of things that have worked him up before. Things you’ve said to get him to give you what you want during sex.

Two instances come to mind.

The time you unknowingly said I love you.

And then last night, when you told him he could finish inside you.

And now? Your head tilts up just in time to watch him adjust himself in his trousers before sheepishly tuning back to his work when you catch him watching you. It takes a second but eventually things start to click.

He likes watching you look at home in his cabin. He likes the intimate feeling of a simple life. Watching you bake, saying I love you, having kids.

Things a normal couple might do.

He tosses something up onto the bed, you stare at it for a moment as he starts putting other things back into the dresser.

Handcuffs.

Thick, padded, and metal.

You know he intends on using them on you but you act fast, hurrying over to him, taking his hand.

“What are you doing mesh’la?” He chuckles as you sit him down on the bed.

This is gonna be a shot in the dark, but if you’re confident enough, (and right) it’ll be worth it.

“Just, let me take care of you.”

“You already take care of me.” He insists, starting to get up but you firmly plant your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down. Your plan is rapidly forming in your mind.

“I mean it, now stay put.” He sighs loudly but nods, tilting his head to the side in confusion. No sense in being coy, might as well be clear with your intentions to see if he’s actually into it. “Don’t be a baby, I know you get off on this kind of thing.” The moment you say it he scoffs but you’re already across the room, taking one of the little cakes and putting it onto a plate.

“Excuse me?” “His voice is already terribly defensive but you just laugh it off.

“You’re not the only one who can make observations. You think I didn’t notice the way your tone switched when I offered to bake for you?” He starts to argue but you cut him off. “And I’m definitely not going to ignore how quickly you came when I told you you could finish inside of me.” That surprisingly shuts him up. This might actually be the only time you’ve caught him so off guard that he doesn’t have a response.

You bring the plate over to the bed, setting it on his nightstand.

“You like domesticity.” You lean in to whisper to him. “You want me to take care of you, don’t you Mr. Tough Mandalorian?” You can’t gauge his reaction because of the helmet but you can gauge the tent in his pants perfectly fine.

“Djarin.” He certainly doesn’t sound stern now.

“Djarin?”

“Din Djarin.” You hadn’t even realized until just now that you didn’t know his last name.

You straddle one of his thighs, spreading his legs with your knees.

“Well then, let me take care of you, Din Djarin.” You like the way his name feels in your mouth and based on the way his cock twitches against your leg you’d reckon he does too.

He’s always been so open with you and you’ve always kept him at a distance.

Right here right now, if you weren’t dealing with the worst possible circumstances (your husband), you know that you’d tell him you love him, that you ache for him, that you know fear because of him. You know you love him. And you’re pretty sure he knows it too.

You just aren’t ready to say it.

So you’ll have to show it. (And maybe say a few things that you are ready to say.)

You love each other, at the end of the day you can’t keep censoring yourself when you think about him, he doesn’t deserve that.

You want to show him what he deserves.

You reach behind him and grab the cuffs. As you do his hands wrap around you to tug at your corset strings, an act that he’s getting rather good at.

“You gonna put those on for me, mesh’la?” He drawls. Once he’s loosened your corset enough so that you’ll be able slip out of it you lean back again.

“No.” You grin at him and he immediately shakes his head.

“Absolutely not.” He says the moment you start smiling.

“You’re always in charge, just let me be in charge, I’m doing this for you.” You grab one of his wrists but he easily pulls it away.

“You were in charge last time.”

True, but irrelevant.

“Do you love me?” You stick your bottom lip out a little.

“You’re terrible.”

“I know.” But it works, because when you grab his wrist again he doesn’t pull away.

“You know I can get out of these right? Very easily.” He says, watching you close the first cuff around his wrist, removing the belt around his torso and the one around his waist.

“I know that too, but you love me, so you’re going to leave them on until I take them off.

“This feels less like you’re taking care of me and more like I’m your prisoner.” He mumbles.

“Oh hush, you’d be happy either way.” Once again he seems at a loss for words as you cuff his other wrist, he sets his hands in his lap. You smooth out the fabric of his cowl before carefully removing it, folding it and walking it over to the table and setting it down. “I’ll make you a deal.” You say, turning back to face him. “If you don’t like it then I will stop and we can do this your way. But if you don’t then I will assume I was right, and you do want me to take care of you.” You straddle his thigh again and play with one of the releases on his chest plate.

“You’re being purposefully vague. What does taking care of me entail?” The impatience on his voice trails off as you start releasing his chestplate, finding the little locks, undoing them one by one.

“Well… I just think that you like certain things, and I think you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

“What things?”

You click the last release and remove his chest plate, walking over to the dresser to set it down carefully before returning.

“You like that I baked for you.” You remove his gauntlets, setting them on his nightstand.

“Who wouldn’t like that?” You swear you almost hear him stutter.

“Oh but I think you really like it. Because you know I did it just for you.” You remove his pauldrons and kneel between his legs to remove the pieces of armor on his thighs. “You like when I hold you, you like seeing me here, in your home, in your bed.” You slide his remaining armor down his legs, setting them aside before standing again and spreading his thighs with your knees to slot yourself between them, your hands grip the edges of his helmet.

“Can I?” You whisper.

After a moment's hesitation he nods.

Your fingers snap the airlocks and you gently lift.

Before closing your eyes you allow yourself one peek.

You’re graced with a bashful smile, and you know that it’s okay, so you squeeze your eyes shut and completely remove the helmet, setting it on the bed beside him. Almost as if on instinct he leans forward and you feel his lips on yours as you gently push him back.

“Let me do it, Din.” You laugh softly. “You don’t have to do everything.” You lean forward this time, hands on either side of his face, running your tongue over that bottom lip you wish you could see. “I’m going to take my dress off.” You mumble into his mouth before pulling back, you turn around and quickly slide your gown down your body, you grab the plate on his bedside table before closing your eyes and turning back around. His restrained hands play with the front of your nightie.

“What are you-” His unfiltered voice is like warm honey, deep and raw, but you silence it by putting two fingers from your freehand to where you assume his mouth is. He starts to speak again so you gingerly slide your thumb between his lips and you hear any more questions he might have flicker out.

“Can you go more than five minutes without asking me a question?” The moment you say it his lips purse like he’s going to ask again, you place your thumb over his tongue. Once you’re certain he isn’t going to interrupt your actions again you remove your hand from his face and tear a chunk of the cake off of the plate. “Open.” You laugh softly as you bring your hand towards his mouth, he immediately starts to protest again but you take the opportunity to stuff the pastry into his mouth, you get lucky and actually manage to get it in on the first try.

If you’re being honest, you aren’t completely sure if this is going to work. You’re still acting on a hunch. A very presumptuous hunch, that deep down he wants nothing more than a quiet, soft life.

A home.

Unless of course you’re wrong. In that case you’re going to be rather embarrassed. Which is starting to be a worry as you realize he isn’t moving, two of your fingers just barely past his lips, he still hasn’t moved and you fell you nerves starting to get the best of you, just as you’re about to withdrawal and apologize for the entire silly affair, his lips close around your fingers. You can’t help but gasp at the feeling, accidentally taking a step back in surprise.

His fingers immediately grasp at what fabric they can on your undergarments, trying to pull you closer again. You’re about to say something smug, along the lines of “I told you so.” But you’re stopped dead in your tracks.

Because Maker, he whimpers.

You let him tug you back between his legs. The cold metal of the cuffs brushes against your thighs.

You reach down and tear off another chunk of the cake, his bound hands guide you back to his mouth, which you're shocked to find is still open as you gently feed him. This time you don't flinch back, his lips close around your fingers and his tongue licks them clean.

This is the temptation he spoke of.

You respect his creed. You’ve sort of taken your own creed, a vow to yourself not to look. But right now it takes all of your restraint to not look. Nothing could possibly make you happier than knowing what he must look like right now, lips wrapped around your fingers, trying to pull you closer.

But just like him, you resist those temptations, finally pulling your hand away.

“I told you I’d take care of you.” You whisper, a slight teasing edge to your voice.

“You’re a strange woman, sarad’ika.” He whispers back.

“So you don’t like this?” You tear off a piece for yourself, popping it into your mouth, feeling the icing coat your tongue. You bask in his silence before picking up the remaining pastry, gently feeding him, tossing the plate blindly onto the bed.

The only answer you need to your question is the way his tongue drags across your palm when he’s finished, you waste no time after that to push him down into the mattress. Letting your lips find his.

His mouth tastes just like it did the first time you kissed.

Vanilla.

His arms go over your head, trapping you in his embrace.

“Tell me I was right.” You pull back from him, grinning.

“I wouldn’t exactly go so far as to say that you were right.” His mouth latches to your chin, peppering a trail of kisses back up to your lips but you pull further back, as far as his arms will let you, eyes still shut.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that right? Because about thirty seconds ago you were quite literally eating out of the palm of my hand.” He continues trying to kiss you to silence you but you keep turning your head to the side, he settles on your jaw eventually.

“That doesn’t prove anything, I’ve barely eaten anything today, maybe I was just hungry.” He mumbles against your skin.

“Mhmm, sure. Are you sure you don’t like playing house? I think you like imagining me as Mrs. Djarin.”

Whoops. Where the hell did that come from?

“Don’t say that.” His voice isn’t playful anymore as he sits up, keeping you in his lap.

“Kriff, I’m sorry Din, that was too fa-” You hear a metal thud behind you on the floor and his hands are no longer cuffed, they hold your waist now.

“If you don’t mean it, don't joke about that.” His breath is hot on your face and his grip on you tightens.

If you don’t mean it.

So you were right.

Your mind screams at you to be rational. You have a husband, there are a million reasons to apologize and to move on from this.

Stop using the husband that was forced upon you as an excuse.

You can’t keep holding back when it comes to Din. It isn’t fair to him. Not when he gives you everything.

“If I do mean it, can I joke about it?” Your voice is the quietest it’s been all day.

He takes your hands and brings them up to his face, so you can feel him nod.

“I’ll keep joking about it if you tell me I’m right. I’ll joke all night long.” You laugh a little as he brings one of your hands to his mouth so he can kiss your wrist.

“You’re right.”

You can’t help yourself.

“About?”

“I like this.” He drags his lips down your arm before dropping it. “I like when you take care of me.”

“Turn the lights off.” He doesn’t hesitate once you say it, the curtains are all already closed

Once the lights are off he flips you onto your back, you hear everything on the bed clatter to the floor as he tosses it aside.

His bed is lower than yours so his hands grab you by your hips, lifting your bottom half into the air a little, making you squeak in surprise.

“Tell me another joke.” He says under his breath as he spreads your legs so he can grind his still clothed erection against you.

“I thought you were going to let me take care of you?” You scoff at him, hearing his zipper.

“I am,” You gasp as he drops you back down onto the mattress, climbing on top of you. “I’m letting you tell me jokes.” You can practically hear his grin as he guides the blunt head of his cock into your folds. Lazily rubbing it against your clit and leaning down to whisper to you. “You started this with all your talk, is that all it was? Talk? I thought you said you meant it?”

You’re trying to remember how he got the upperhand so quickly but it’s hard to concentrate when he keeps nudging himself against your most sensitive spot.

Everything always happens so fast with him, just once you’d like to turn things around on him and have it work.

“I-I meant it.” Is all you really manage to get out, he brings his cock down a bit to tease your entrance, never actually pushing in. His voice has that condescending tone to it that tells you he’s willing to play this game for a while and you hadn’t really factored in just how aroused you’d get during your display a few minutes ago. You’re soaked and there’s a good chance he’s going to draw this out in retaliation. He swipes his tip back up to your clit, the both of you hiss in unison.

You still have one ace up your sleeve as you recall your conversation from last night.

“So you liked one of my offers?”

“I might have been interested in one of them”

One thing you know he wants.

“Come on, sarad’ika. Where are your jokes?” He chuckles against your skin as he kisses your shoulder.

“I was just trying to think of a baking joke. Can you give me a second?” You gasp out as his free hand reaches underneath you to squeeze your ass before coming up to rest on your hip.

“I know you can do better than a baking joke.” You can feel him grin against you now, his teeth lightly graze your shoulder.

“It’s a shame, you would have liked it.” He goes back to teasing your entrance, pressing himself into you just enough to make you squirm but not enough to actually be inside you. You try to shift your hips downwards but his hand keeps you pinned in place.

“I liked your jokes about Mrs. Djarin.”

It’s now or never.

“Well you liked my cooking as well, so I thought I’d make a joke about a bun in the oven, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Filling me u-”

His hips buck forward and his grip on you tightens to the point of a sharp pain. To seemingly both of your surprises, in an instant he’s buried nearly to the hilt in your heat.

“Maker, Din!” You’re gonna have a brand new set of bruises tomorrow.

“Sorry! I, fuck- sorry.” He’s grunting in your ear, not bothering with your shoulder anymore, burying his face into the pillow next to your head.

“Dank farrik, Din…” You’re reeling from the sudden motion, your head tilted back into the mattress. You need to catch your breath but the muffled groans coming from him distract you. The sting from the sudden stretch you're experiencing is quickly fading and you bring your hands up to his head, one resting in his hair and the other at the nape of his neck.

He wanted to make this a game so you’re going to play, and you’re going to win.

You’re still panting a little as you turn your head to the side so you can whisper into his ear.

“Stars Din, it’s that easy to get you worked up, huh?” His breathing is starting to level out, his grip on you lightens up. “I thought I was easy to rile up but look at you, all this just at the thought of a bun in the oven.”

He isn’t making noise anymore, he’s still against you, listening intently as you run a soothing hand down his spine and back up again.

“I can’t imagine what you’re going to be like when you actually get me pregnant.”

You’re surprised by your own words, like your brain is on auto-pilot and you can’t filter yourself but he fucking whines so you don’t care in the slightest. High pitched and needy, muffled by the pillow. His hips start slowly rocking into you and you bite back your moan, wanting to maintain your advantage.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling his head out of the pillow, savoring the whimper that comes from his as you do.

“Oh come on, you can’t even handle the thought of it?” You breathe out the words and his head falls downwards as you release him, he bites your shoulder. “What does it for you?” He unclenches his jaw, starting to bury his face back into the pillow but you pull him back up again.

“Is it just the idea of finishing in me?”

He doesn’t answer, to be fair you’re barely holding it together either at this point.

“Or do you just want everyone to know I’m yours? Want everyone to see that you knocked me up?”

You get your answer with that because he’s trying to bury his face back into the pillow. A low wail leaves his lips as he frantically ruts into you. How quickly everything’s escalated has you hurtling towards your climax and you can tell by the desperate whine that leaves his lips as he presses them into your collar bone that he won’t be far behind.

“I know you can do better than that, Din.” You mock his tone from earlier but he’s unfazed, pounding into you until finally you can’t tease him anymore because he’s reduced you to gasps and moans.

It doesn’t take long after that.

One after the other.

You first, when his hand travels downwards, it takes only a few precise circles rubbed into your clit and your grip tightens in his hair, your walls flutter around him.

Just like that he’s going over the edge with you.

He pulls out, finishing on your stomach.

You shouldn’t feel upset but there's the tiniest bit of disappointment as you feel his cum against your skin.

He collapses onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“I love you.” He presses a kiss into your hair.

“I know.”

★

You sit in the quiet dark for a long while, until finally, you have to ask.

“Do you actually want kids someday?” Your voice breaks the silence of the pitch-black room. “Little Djarin’s running around?”

He rolls over so he’s hovering above you now.

“Are you trying to start round two?” He chuckles, resting his forehead against yours, your nose bumps against his. “I’ll need a few more minutes before I can go again, sarad, but I can keep you occupied until then.” He kisses you quickly, already starting to move his mouth south but you stop him.

It’s so effortless right now. To be happy with him, in the darkness, pushing away thoughts of royal responsibilities. Letting yourself be with just Din, even if it’s brief.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” You ask.

“Yes. Someday.” He kisses your sternum, laying down on your chest.

“With me?”

“No, with Elaine.” You smack the back of his head when he says it, he laughs against your skin. “Yes, with you.”

You let him lay on top of you as you nod to yourself.

“Is it weird that everytime we have sex it turns into a competition?” He starts to laugh once more as you say it.

“It’s weird that you keep losing.”

You smack him again.

★

Your peaceful break from reality is brief, as always, as you sit up.

“We have to go. I can’t be out all night.” The last thing you want to do is return to your room right now, you want to stay here, the cabin feels more like home than any room in the castle ever has.

He seems as unhappy with this as you are. The two of you dress in silence once he flicks the lamp back on, you turn around until you hear him reattach his helmet.

You hold his hand on the walk back. You don’t have much to say right now, you’re certain at this point that you’ve made it clear that you love him.

That you just aren’t ready to say it.

And he doesn’t seem to mind.

You’re ready to just sleep. Your blanket nest seems more and more inviting the closer you get to the castle.

The two of you sneak in through the back entrance and as always the castle is quiet at night. You keep your hand in his as you make your way up the steps.

It isn’t until you get to the hallway where your chambers are located that you hear it.

A persistent banging sound and someone yelling incomprehensibly.

Din immediately drops your hand.

Neither of you speaks as you walk but he shifts himself so he’s walking ahead of you, as you get closer you recognize the distinct, nasally voice.

In the dim light of the hall you see Kodo, banging on your bedroom door.

“Wife, come now, you can’t ignore me, I’m your husband.” He hisses, you can smell the alcohol on him from here.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Kodo, are you okay?” You plaster on a faux look of concern as you approach, Din tries to put his hand up to stop you but you ignore it.

He turns to stare at you, his clothes are askew and he isn’t even wearing his crown.

“Wife! Where have you been?” He slurs, leaning in for a kiss that you sidestep, he doesn’t seem bothered by your rejection.

“I went on a walk.” You answer quickly and he takes hold of your waist, you try not to look too repulsed.

“You skipped dinner yesterday, dear wife.” He teeters a bit, leaning towards you as you again try to avoid his kiss but this time he holds you firmly in place, it’s sloppy and you have to wipe a bit of spit from your face after.

“I did, I wasn’t feeling well.” Your voice is getting smaller and smaller as you feel fear bubbling in your chest.

“Where are your guards?” There’s no respect in Din’s voice, no “your highness” or “your grace.” No one speaks to Kodo that way, not even you, but he’s too drunk to even notice.

“I dismissed them, as is customary when one is visiting his bride’s chambers.” Kodo lurches forward, his hands sloppily grope the fabric of your skirt and you make an audible groan of discomfort.

“We should get you back to your own chambers, come now dear husband.” You try to sound patient, you know he’s capable of violence and you don’t want to push him in this state.

“Why would we do that, wife? Come now, tonight I shall join you in bed. I missed you last night.” He hisses the words and you know he didn’t miss you in the slightest, this is a punishment.

This is what you get for disobeying.

For skipping your dinner with him.

This is the inevitable thing that has made you unable to tell Din you love him. This looming promise of Kodo.

There’s nothing you could possibly do right now to escape the fate before you. The fear you feel right now is certainly not the fear of love that Din described to you.

But that quickly changes.

You don’t get a chance to react as Din takes a step between you and Kodo, he doesn’t even wind up, he just drives his fist forward and you hear the sickening crunch of your husband's nose just before he slumps to the floor.

As you stare at Din, you know your fear has changed. His shoulders heaving, his rage fills the corridor as you listen to his ragged breaths through the modulator. He turns around to face you, but you just stare at his hand, where the evidence of this potentially deadly mistake is dripping down his fingertips. You have never been more terrified for another person's life the way you are right now for Din.

You’re mesmerized by the little speckles of your husband's blood, a stark contrast to the yellow fingertips of his gloves.

And suddenly it feels like all the air leaves the corridor as you finally look into his visor, you don’t see Din though, all you see is what they’re going to do to him for this.

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uyuartik · 3 months

Text

bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader)

tags: slightly sith coded obi wan, no use of y/n, my unhinged take on regency era, (blaming bridgerton and pride and prejudice), probably historical inaccuracies, SMUT, mentions of oral sex (fem and male receiving), mentions of fingering, piv sex, dom!obi?, i really don't know what to write here it is just filth and it is gonna get filthier

a/n: HII! so i became haunted by historical!obi au's and spent six months writing a short series... this is the first chapter out of three, so i hope you stay tuned for the upcoming one (it is FILTHIER than this and about 19k words)

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can't wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

enjoy!!!

word count: 5.4K

chapter one: see you tonight?

“…Fuck, just like that-“

That voice. Yes, that’s how you ended up here, you think, as you roll your hips, feeling the exquisite contours of Obi Wan’s cock stretching your walls and pulling pleasure out of every cell in your body, and possibly from your soul too.

Ehem. Lord Kenobi.

And truth be told, that’s not exactly how things led here. Of course, his rich voice and the manner in which he used it were notable factors. The way he camouflaged his remarks under sweet quips never failed to make you giggle into the next day, and regardless of the topic (ashamedly, it was mostly about the other people in the room, and their rather obscene behaviors), the comments he made always reflected the intelligence behind it. He played the serious bit perfectly too, even though his reverent sentences carried some poetry, never pompous, yet deep enough to convey its origin and the realness of his sincerity… That’s why you started spending hours with him at balls in the first place. Ten minutes alone with him, undoing all the prejudice you had against the man. All the rumors about him were proven wrong, or at least, half true. And you liked that remaining part of the truth.

Only after that, came the subject of his charms. Not quite surprising, considering that there was no lack of handsome faces around, but a lack of brains in them. Or a true heart. You hated the hypocrisy of it all, and it was a blessing to find someone who shared that sentiment. Not to mention the benefit of him deflecting any unwanted company.

Likewise, he must've thought the same about you, thus your current position. It was obvious that both of you two had similar standards, even in these lewd matters. People didn’t call him a heartbreaker because he pursued a lot of women, but when he did and it came to an inevitable end, they were the shell of whom they used to be, like a person could be mummified by the absence of the joy he charmed people with it. And you, you weren’t the type to have somebody just because you could. No, you looked for a special connection, a click, and when you got lucky and found one among the countless candidates, you treasured it. Now, even the word click sounded wanting, there were sparks present between the two of you, a considerable, good dynamic you two had built, and that made everything just better.

You were almost sad thinking this was a one-time event, already knowing this is a moment you'll remember your entire life. (You weren't gonna push your luck on getting caught.) If there were such deals, two of you keeping it to each other forever in this aspect of life, you’d have signed that contract in a blink.

“Thought you said you were tired.” He breathes out, clearly an effort, yet the smug grin on his face leaves no room for doubt or pity.

“I’ve been sitting all day.” That’s how travel works in carriages, after all. “I think stretching my legs, is what I need.” You emphasize by raising yourself higher and slowly sink back down a few times, a motion that pulls moans from both of your mouths.

Travel. It took you half a day to reach your aunt’s estate, and you were fairly certain you wouldn’t attend the ball that is currently taking place. Then, you realized there was no way your gracious hostesses would see you tonight, you were forced to enter the saloon. It would be a quick in and out, maybe greeting a few more people, no dance, with the very valid excuse of I’ve been on the road all day and I am quite exhausted ready on your lips at any interaction. This was why you didn’t even bother to put much effort into your looks, opting for a change of dress, and nothing more. No jewelry, no retouches to your hair. After all, it would just add to your part if you seemed slightly off.

Somehow, it turned out to be a regrettable decision, when numerous eyes turned to you as you took a step into the room, and even longer after that. Maybe not every head turned or the music came to an abrupt stop, the sprouting silence broken by collective whispers, but it happened, subtle yet enough to make itself known. You were given the same treatment for years at this point, but there was no getting used to it. Color that had been settling in your cheeks seemed to be permanent, at least for the night, not leaving your side as you took your place among your relatives. The expensive fan you were gifted by- God knows who, you were in no mood to remember it now, did nothing to relieve your suffering.

And, countless other greetings don't help either. You fastened the movement of your hand, curling your lips into a forced smile. You could truly get tired from all these repeated words and gestures.

"I'm afraid I forgot to bring my dance card." You said again, to the third man who came with the same offer, Duke Caldo, all true except the part "forgot". You left it, willingly, just in front of your vanity mirror. The mirror which you desperately wanted to see yourself in right now, away from the ball.

"A great pity." The exclamation didn't come from him, though.

Your fan dropped from your hand and closed itself when it hit your wrist, dangling from the loop around your forearm as you heard that voice, no introduction ever needed. Perhaps, not even his voice was required, for there was always that unexplainable change in the quality of air in the rooms he occupied, like he was casting a spell on those around him, trickling magic dust with every step, a rare perfume. You wouldn’t use such metaphors if it wasn’t for the simple fact that your body always figured out his presence before your mind, catching a sense of that hypnotic essence. You often realized all the hairs on your arm standing up, or a tingling sensation in the back of your neck, breathing getting a bit harder, only to quickly locate him in your eyesight.

"Lord Kenobi." It is said in a contemptful respect, a greeting and a goodbye. “Goodnight, my Lady.”

You didn’t even bother to mutter a proper response, and frankly, the Duke didn’t wait for one either. So, all your focus can be reserved on the man in front of you.

You raised your arm as if intending to extend it so he could complete his small tradition of placing a kiss on the back of your hand, like he has done every time your paths crossed, even multiple times a day (that’s exactly how you noticed it was more than a simple salutation), (honestly, you liked it, his daring movement revealing a lot about his nature), only to flick it to reopen your fan. The gentlest gust of it licking your skin was more than enough now, making it all too pleasing to watch him save himself with a deep bow of his head, the annoyance quickly turning into a satisfied grin, like he didn’t expect anything less from you.

“That looks even more beautiful in your hand.” He pointed at it, but his eyes wandered all over your body. You did the same, though there was little notice, his usual beige suit far too familiar. Your focus was always on the fact that he looked so good in it, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, or his defined arms exquisitely pronounced over the fabric.

Right. So it was his gift. Why did you ever entertain other possibilities?

You weren’t going to disappoint him by mentioning it is only here because your panicked maid accidentally packed the first item she saw, for you never took anonymous gifts. You didn’t need the attention they brought.

"And I couldn't thank you enough for it. I can practically name it my savior tonight." You answered, making a show of lavishing yourself in the stream it creates.

"My only source of pride is the fact that it perfectly blends with the rest of your attire. Now, I can proudly say I know your taste."

Classic Obi Wan. Even his compliments, far from usual, borderline scandalous. He's been peppering you with them ever since the start of your friendship and you were never immune to them. You outright enjoyed them. Especially now, they didn’t help the simmering tingles forming at the depths of your belly, amplified by weeks of solitude. “Only a part of it I’m afraid, but you’ll learn the rest in no time, don’t worry.”

“Can’t wait.” He grinned and scanned the room for prying eyes. Finding none, he made himself more comfortable by your side, hoping to spend the rest of his night with you.

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” You admitted, somehow managing not to sound like you’re overly joyous of that not happening.

“I could say the same about you.” Was that excitement, or disappointment in his voice? Was he planning of politely ravishing other women, when you were not present to entertain him? Something told you those were not among his intentions, the smile on his face too honest, his twinkling gaze focused solely on you.

You tilted your head and curled your lips. Touché. “It is nice to attend the ball your acquaintances are throwing, even if you arrive late. But for you, sir, I'm afraid people will actually think you're looking for a wife."

He rolled his eyes. There was a hint of offense in them just at the mentioning of the subject, but the playful type, not the exasperated type he uses for others.

"Curious. The diamond of the season is also here. Isn't it strange that she still hasn't found someone, it's nearly the end of the season?" You inhaled sharply, dramatizing further. "Do you have something to do with it, Lord Kenobi?"

He scoffed, the impossibility of it reflected in his voice. "The diamond of the season?-"

"I thought you deserve nothing less." You explained, but he interjected.

"I'm only interested in one diamond." He said, initiating intense eye contact.

It was your turn to scoff, and run away from his gaze. "I was never the diamond."

"Only because you saw how better you were than the rest, and fled just before the start of the season." His eyebrows were raised, begging for a denial.

"I had planned that trip months ago." You simply stated. "And I came back halfway through summer, didn't I?"

"Just like now."

"Do I need to remind you who you have been spending time with since June?"

"And where were you coming from tonight, ending your visit of- how long was it?"

"I am fond of traveling. Balls and banquets can entertain someone so far. " You shrugged, "Lord Kenobi, are you trying to say that you missed me?"

"I could never claim otherwise."

That was true from your perspective as well. All these years of constant traveling, and this year was the first time you missed what you left behind at home, even during the buzzing, pretense-filled months. None of it seemed that intolerable, and somewhat fun, if you dare to admit. You knew this impression was his doing, and now after your while spent apart, the feeling came back tenfold, almost making you squirm over such loose confessions.

That was it. That was the turning point of the night.

“Truth be told, the night is going much better than I dreamed of, and I almost regret forgetting my dance card.” You raised your chin, and sent him a look. “Would you be so kind to help me find it?”

You could basically see the gears turning, a fire behind his eyes, fueling the desire growing in the depths of your belly. His gaze was piercing, even after he’d long decided, the truth known to both of you. Your heartbeats must’ve been visible, you imagined, and felt it skip a beat as he licked his lip. “Lead the way.”

Now that’s, how you ended up here.

However, as you look down at his face, the story gets blurry, perhaps outright loses its importance, abandoning your mind. His hair is tousled, a rebel strand in front of his eyes, and moves with every bounce. Your hands are too busy to hold onto his sweaty chest, slightly tugging on the auburn fuzz. You wanted to do that ever since he took his shirt off.

(Then again, you’re not sorry for the amount of time you couldn’t, drowning in him. The moment you felt his expert lips on yours, all your will to protest anything had died. Later, as his fingers joined the show, you quickly realized you were fine with what he gave, but he, ever the gentleman, let you prevail.)

It is a sight. And the moans that fall from his lips surpass the delicate melody the musicians are playing downstairs in every way, which can still faintly be heard. (You never thought an orchestra would accompany you during this, but here you were. It is a detail you’ll remember with a smile while looking back at it, but now, you couldn’t care any less.)

“You’re taking me so well.” He starts to thrust his hips up slightly, meeting your rhythm, but never overtaking it.

“I know.” You giggle, but the reaction he’s taken notice of is your fingertips digging in further, and your walls fluttering around his cock.

When you start to falter a bit, perhaps due to the fatigue settling on your muscles embarrassingly not long after his words, or his mere presence clouding your brain, his fingers that have been resting on your thighs slowly ascend to your hips. The fingers drenched in your juices, another element that has the coil in your belly tighter. The next few strokes, with his guiding hand, touch something deep inside you, and your jaw hangs open.

“Fuck…” is the only word you can mutter, and he chuckles at it.

“Is that so?” He mocks, but brushes your loose ringlets with a single hand, and caresses your nipple on its way down. The latter shows his true disposition, and that drives you to be more vocal, if you weren’t already.

“You feel… so… good.” You can hardly say, as your puffy clit drag against his skin all so deliciously like this.

He twitches inside you at the compliment, and you throw your head back with a whine. Despite the fact that he would kill to see your face, he doesn’t push, enjoying the state he’s putting you in with his voice. Every praise that falls from his lips earns him a melodic moan, along with the feeling of you tensing and relaxing, always responding to his call in one way or another.

You’re one step away from being a doll at his bend, though you couldn’t care any less, not when you are this close.

He likes it, very very much. Yet, not enough to silence his wishes of how to ruin you, in the best way.

In a blink, you find yourself on your back, and him on top of you. That’s not the first thing you see, though. It is his hand, lifted from wherever it fell, catching your chin to turn your head to him. Sounds of panting are all there is, no movement, no words, not even your rapid heartbeats drumming in your ears seconds ago as if the world stopped for a second.

His thumb caresses your lower lip, and you let it slip in. God, you can still taste yourself. The revelation has your objections at the change dead, your face twisting, yet he tsks thrice, capturing your attention.

“Let me see those eyes.” Obi Wan commands, and you have no choice but to oblige. “You look so good beneath me.”

Somehow, his words have you flushing and squirming as if that was the most inappropriate thing happening in this room. Funny, how he breaks your will, and you let it. Against all the talk of your friendship, until an hour ago, you’d have lashed out at an equivalent demeanor, even said in affectionate terms. (Any other way is simply impossible, anyway.) But, that hour proved itself to be much precious, and now with that glossy gaze, snatched right from the brink of climax, you focus on the doting aspect, how he cannot get enough of the image of you.

You start to writhe, the new emptiness inside you unbearable. “Touch me, Obi Wan…”

He's not proud of the way your begging has his cock leaking, though that hardly stops him. He lives for mutual pleasure, even just yours at the moment, yet you look so pretty like this, grasping the sheets.

"Like this?" He slides his thumb further into your mouth, relishing the feeling of your tongue swirling around it immediately. Or course he wasn't expecting you to suck him off if you didn't want to, nor would he ever ask for it, he can't help but imagine the feeling, his hips rolling in seek of stimulation.

You shake your head, and his finger is freed with a pop. You frown as the sole contact you have with him is lost. It is a warning sign for him, the fragility of your dream-like state, a reminder of how he has to do better, if he wants to take control. As a gentleman, he wanted to give you everything you desired, but since it was your first time together, a terra incognita, he had to be sure of your limits, so he followed your wishes gladly. The wishes which were masterfully balanced versions of both of your needs. The same problem troubled you too of course, but you were a quick learner, a connoisseur of his taste in no time. The fact that it was very similar to yours was an exciting discovery, certainly a pleasant one, and was a great help, so great that it almost felt like cheating. While he took no issue with your tricks; the urge to take you on his terms, the compulsion to show you how he wants to cherish you couldn’t be suppressed any longer. He had to let you know.

He leans in closer, his arms bend as yours find his shoulders like a habit, “Like this?” He murmurs, right before brushing his lips against yours, effectively swallowing your whine. Though it was a sound of protest, all complementary sentiments die when he nips at your lower lip, and you open your mouth, lost in the sensation of his tongue licking yours, and his sweet essence. In contrast to his other needs taken good care of, he hadn’t taken enough of the feeling of our mouths joining. God, he spent hours imagining your mouth, curling into every shape as smart words spilled from it, enhancing his fascination with you. It fires the flames of haze further, even if he’s not actually properly touching you. Your hand roams his neck, then etches itself into his silky hair. You’ve done that a few times now (and found his response most addicting), but it is hardly satisfactory compared to the amounts you dreamed of doing during these last couple of months. You saw him prim and proper mostly, not a strand out of place, making you marvel at its excellence, and the itch to mess it up growing stronger each instance, a stark contrast to your surroundings. Also, there were times the infamous piece fell in front of his eyes, and sometimes even more disheveled than that, riding a horse, enjoying sports with his friends, and once after a bath, when your family visit started a little earlier than planned. You were always admiring the way it reflected light, creating almost a halo around his head, especially in sunlight. It is the first thing your eye is drawn to whenever you’re in the same place, a beacon of sorts. You never thought you’d be this amazed by hair, yet the moans he produces when you tug on it, add to your astonishment, and you’re not sure if you can look at it again, without being reminded of this moment.

He breaks the kiss as for you to catch your breath, for he has long kept you away from it. Still, he continues to pepper you with tons of them, scattered all across your jaw and neck, in search of that sweet spot that has you cursing. It is not a serious journey, in fact, he does more than press his lips against your skin properly, tease you with his open mouth, drag his tongue along the taut muscle, nip and outright bite, once.

“No marks-“ You protest. Futile. You should’ve warned before he started to nibble, way before he sank his teeth, but it has happened after all, and you can already feel blood settling on the sites of his attack. “What I am going to tell my maid now?”

“The truth.” He retorts. “Of how you led Lord Kenobi into our bed, and did dirty, unspeakable things with him.”

That earns him a harsh pull at his scalp, and a pat on his shoulder. He meets with your glaring gaze, and cheeks redder than a minute ago. So, he’s still on your good side. Barely.

“Apologies, my dear.” He takes the hand that smacked him, and places a peck onto your palm before placing it back. You can’t break the eye contact as he does so, something about his appearance, perhaps his position, or the charming contours of his face, or the way he deals with your anger keeps you from kicking him out. Caressing your open legs, he massages them ‘til they relax afresh, squeezing at the soft flesh. You hiss when his movement nears your inner thighs, thanks to his beard, and the climax it brought you. The gesture hints, still, there’s the matter of fire burning in your belly. “Couldn’t resist, you know me. Let me make it up to you.”

He wastes one more second to carve this image inside his head, then fulfills his promise. He likes the way you tremble while you wait, a whimper leaving your mouth at him taking his cock into his hand and stroking it a few times. God, how you wish that was your hand. Damn your stubbornness, and demand for compensation. You put extreme effort into staying still, releasing a shaky breath when he places the tip at your entrance.

Remember when he said “ruin”?

He doesn’t push it in, instead letting it slide up your slick folds, and tap against your clit. You nearly jolt at the touch, yet again tasting bliss, even if it is in mere drops. He repeats the action, and you sob, digging your nails into his shoulders. Maybe you’re the one leaving marks now, but you don’t care. Eye for an eye you can say, in retrospect.

“You’re so wet.” He can’t stop looking into your glistening core. He also can hear it, the squelching sounds echoing at his every movement. He knows you can too, that it calms your nerves, though they act up for different reasons. “All this for me?”

Unfortunately, you are late to realize he doesn’t take your moans for an answer. You can’t help it, you are unable to form words. Even if you gather the strength, they die out at your throat, especially under his piercing look. Fuck, he loves how cockdumb you’ve become for him.

He takes pity on you then, dropping his cock to briefly rest on your opening, and forces his fat tip in.

Your back arches, a throaty sound filling the room. He shushes right next to your ear, in an effort to calm you down as he slips the rest in. It is as if you’re taking him the first time, like you weren’t riding him moments ago.

“Fuck-“ That’s the only reaction, the only answer he needs. You fall back into the sheets, the first time he rolls his hips, and sets a new rhythm, a slow one to kindle the flame once more. Your hair probably getting tangled from the way it’s rubbing against the sheets, and your legs are split wide open. You feel every vein and ridge moving against your walls, the slight resistance disappearing in no time. His chest brushes against yours, and combined with the warmth of his breath, so close to yours, it’s easy to let go of your worries.

This is why you ended up here.

“Faster!” While he already feels great, it’s not the exact pattern to provide that sweet release, not in the timeframe you hoped.

“I want this to last, dear.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. A part of it due to irritation. Being subjected to that response before, he snickers to see you’re still you, even when you’re literally fucked out of your mind. As he does so, his lips skim yours. You take it, greedily, one hand first on his neck to ensure he stays, then to his unruly tress, aspiring to compel him into the middle ground. That earns you a few groans, yes, but his will doesn’t seem to falter even a little bit.

Perseverance, is a mutual quality, as you already know.

You slowly release the grip you have on his head, emphasis on slowly. It goes unnoticed, thanks to your timely bite, the same assault he once carried out. You don’t waste the access to his tongue, sucking on it. You’re not sure if his moans are increased in number, or if it feels more because you swallow every single one of them, but the fact that his beard starts to prick your cheeks harder gives you an idea.

Your free hand falls into sheets and slithers across the length of your body. Just a little more- you’re almost about to touch your –

His fingers wrap around your wrist instantly, dragging it up, a little further away from your face. You twist your neck, a wail coming out as you reject his kiss.

Only to be met by the sight of that said fingers running up your palm, and interlock themselves among yours.

Your breath hitches, for reasons unknown to you.

“Ah- ah -ah.” He tuts, though there’s not a hint of disappointment in his voice. “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I let you do all the work?”

You can’t believe one physical contact, and his words, are enough to carry you to that previous peak. Your pussy contracts around him, beyond your control, an indication of your closeness, nothing compared to before.

“Ngh- that’s it.” He encourages, “Just relax and take it.” That’s more sincerity than you’ve ever heard from him.

It goes on and on for a while, him doing exactly what he promised to do, and fulfilling his wishes in the process. He already knows this could go on ‘til morning, and he still wouldn’t be completely satisfied, longing for your presence the second he leaves the bed. Still, he continues, pushing himself to his limit, and that’s getting quite harder when you clamp on him that hard. He feels his cock leaking, begging for that sweet end.

When his arm that’s not supporting his weight travels down, caressing your hip before pressing his thumb to your clit, finally, you reward it with a whisper of his name, a sound he won’t dare to forget. Your back arches impossibly higher, and he has to lean back, abandoning his other hold.

Your limb stays in the spot he left it.

He curses at the realization, perhaps its effect mirroring yours when he first initiated the contact. Fuck, how are you so perfect? He snaps his hips harder, and circles his thumb, feeling it throb.

“Obi Wan-I’m c-“

He loves how your words are cut with the need to scream that you gulp down, only resigned to breathing as your face contorts with pleasure. “Cum for me, love.”

Your moans blend into each other, as he cannot stay still at the feeling of your walls squeezing him so tight. He holds your trembling thigh, fondling the soft flesh, adoring the way it spills from his grip. He doesn’t stop ‘til they settle again once more, and even a little longer than that, pulling out in the last minute to cover your belly with his spend.

That act keeps you from turning to your side, and feeds the desire to hug the sheets, a soft but firm ground for your senses to return. You're not complainant of it anyways, you have a far better view in front of you, defined muscles undulating with each heavy breath, glistening due to the light coat of sweat covering them, lips puffy and slightly flushed with blood, as well as his cheeks. You always thought he was devilishly handsome, but this, this is something else. The world should consider itself lucky, or it would bend to his will just from his looks. Or unlucky, for the honor is bestowed upon a handful of people.

He believes he's blessed with the sight upon him, too. Still holding onto your thigh, he delights in spontaneous tremors that possess it. If he looks closely, he's sure he can see the faint mark he left. Your hair is sprawled around, much in contrast to the delicate up-dos you and every noblewoman fashioned, its most natural form, and the intimacy of it definitely causes a small breakdown. You belong in a painting, depicting goddesses and nymphs, a grace outside the limits of time and culture. Your droopy lids and tired pull at the corners of your mouth fill his chest with pride and more adoration, like after his every successful attempt to elicit a reaction from you. It happens often, thanks to the understanding that grows between the two of you, but every example is still treasured in in his mind.

“Well, I don’t know any better way to spend the night.”

You giggle. “I agree.”

“We should’ve done this before.”

Your lifted brows are the perfect answer. Like it’s that easy.

But he has a point, too.

In the comfortable silence, he gets up from bed, a sigh at the roar coming from downstairs, drowning the music. That’s still going, huh? You watch as he wets the nearest towel, and returns, cleaning the mess with unexpected gentleness that it almost tickles. There’s no aim to steal one more touch at his movements, no personal gain except an easy conscience, and even that is a stretch because it’s most natural to him, his understanding of tenderness.

“Well, thank you, sir.” You sit up, with a yawn, and scooch backward to your pillows as he retreats to give himself the same treatment. “And my nightgown, please.” You point to it, and amusingly follow his subtle headshake, and efforts to hand it over. He hesitates for a second at the last minute, considering rebellion, a last joke. You see it, and snatch the fabric from his grip before he can tighten it. He can feel it sliding over his skin, the light material flying. You slip it on, aware of his voyeur. with a victorious smile cut too short as exhaustion creeps into your bones. You’re no different, in any case, settling into the fluffy pillows, curiously examining each piece of clothing he puts on from afar, the unwritten rule of his habits, his hidden glances at your mirror in a feeble pursuit to tame his messy hair. You’re willing to be charged guilty for that.

He stalls, though, you can feel it after a while, around the time sleep clouds your vision. How could anyone blame him for not wanting to leave, carve your picture to his mind, and calm his yet again straining cock at it?

“You should be going. Servants are going to be wandering these corridors for orders, soon.” Your heart winces at the warning, because he's not the type to need it, or disregard you to put you at any risk. But your cognation runs thin, and he needs to know the dangers he might face.

"True. Right. You're correct." Is that a stutter? "Good night, my lady."

"Good night, Lord Kenobi.

"Glad to be of help in stretching your legs."

The cushion falls short to exactly hit him, but the sentiment is clear.

In the morning, you uncover the reasons behind his diversion.

Bastard signed every slot in your dance card.

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woozvc · 2 months

Text

call you tonight

final (part XIX)

w/c - 1.6k + smau at the end

a/n - and this is it! after so long call you tonight has officially come to an end. I hope the last part of this clears up the eunwoo situation (reading your replies and theories made my day😭😭) and i hope this is an ending you can be satisfied with. thank you so much for all your love and patience on this series. it truly means a lot that you guys stuck around till the end even with my terrible posting schedule 🫶

previous / masterlist

this is it. this is the day.

the event started 20 minutes ago and till now, it's been a success. the auditorium is filled with laughter and dancing, courtesy of jihoons playlists.

you're currently standing at a corner just observing the entire place. a part of you feels at peace that this is finally over, the results will be out today and this is it. a part of you is also shit scared. the past few days have been a rollercoaster.

seungcheols words keep echoing in your head about how you're still important to him and he's changed. you really want to believe him. you really want to give him a-

“hey are you okay?”

you wake out of your trace by jihoons voice.

“yeah I'm fine”

“you seen a bit…distracted” he hands you a cup of lemonade. you take it with a small smile and shrug his comment off. no need to reply when he's right?

“how do you feel, you know, about your performance and all?” you look at him. he shakes his head

“I don't know. all of this feels unreal. I never thought I'd have to perform that too dance but here we are”

“doesn't it scare you?”

“obviously it does, but I find some comfort in it too. maybe it's the fact that a part of me believes taking this chance could end really well. maybe I'll finally let go of my past fears and just let myself be in the moment once.”

“hah.. that sounds nice.”

“yea I guess so. I think whatever happens tonight, I just hope I don't regret it. I want to take that risk”

you open your mouth to reply but you're interrupted by hoshis voice calling jihoon. he gives you a small smile and walks away.

right. regret. don't regret tonight. you decide to leave your spot in the corner when you see hansol walk in. being with a friend is better than being alone.

so jihoon is an amazing dancer. you were mesmerized, truly. his moves are fluid and his body doesn't miss a single beat. obviously hoshi is amazing too. his sharp and timed movements make him look like he was born for the stage.

the song is also amazing. jihoon later revealed it was called “bring it”. you'll definitely tell him to record it and send it to you.

the auditorium is a bit loud now. one hour till new year and the presidential results are about to be announced. you avoided seungcheol all night today. reason? you don't really know.

maybe you know mentally a part of you won't be able to handle his teasing if he wins. it's all friendly of course, but it doesn't change the fact you really, really want to win.

“hey y/n ready for the results?” jeonghan nudges into you and you push him off with an annoyed whine.

“jeonghan I swear if I don't win you'll have to wipe my tears”

“I won't mind that because I'll be winning”

“this is important to you huh?”

“it's my one shot to prove I'm actually good at something, can't fuck this one up”

“you dont have to prove yourself to anyone you know?”

“this is for me. I need this to tell myself I'm better than I think. I'm done always being known as the problem kid. and who knows maybe this will get me some street cred?” he winks and walks back to his group, knowing if he kept speaking, he would say something something sad and make you feel more stressed than you already do. you'd probably scold him for being so self deprecating too. your eyes follow him walking back and

oh.

seungcheol is looking directly at you. his gaze burning deep into you. you look away quickly, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. the music in the room slowly fades out.

“okay ladies and gentlemen are we ready for the most awaited moment of today?” seungkwans voice echos through the room and so does the cheering of the students.

“honestly? I'm not shocked at the result. I'm so proud of everyone who participated and made it this far. just know all of you are amazing and we as the student council and the teachers love your dedication. so first of all here are the names of the people who made it to the finals”

he starts reading off the list. there's your name and eunwoos name. after a few students he announces jeonghans name and….thats it? what?

this is surely a mistake and the entire auditorium feels so. there's chattering and confused looks all around

“ah yes, there's only 9 participants now. choi seungcheol removed his name because of some unavoidable circumstances so we divided all his votes to all the others”

your head shoots in seungcheols direction. you look at him confused and he smiles at you. he motions you to stay where you are for now. this can't be real? he can't just remove his name?

hansol taps your shoulder and tells you to focus on the stage. you look back at the stage, realizing you completely missed seungkwans dramatic speach on how much he waited for the results etc etc.

“and so, svtct, your student council president is…..y/n!”

there's screaming in the auditorium but this place has never felt so quiet. your legs are numb and your hearing is fucked. you…won? you actually did it?

“y/n go to the stage!!” jeonghan pushes you from the crowd towards the stage. you want to say something to him. you want to apologize for winning to him but

he's smiling so wide.

his eyes are genuine. he's genuinely happy you won. “don't worry about me, my favorite cousin’s win is my win” he grabs your hand and takes you to the stage.

seungkwan helps your walk onto the stage where the teachers are standing to give you your certificate and badge. you receive it, saying a small thank you to the teachers presenting and seungkwan hands you the mic

“any words president?”

any words? what the fuck even are words? you stare at the mic then back at seungkwan. you're glad you've been friends with him for so long that even without words, understands and nods at you

“I think our president wants to save the speach for during school hours to not bore us.. well I hope my speach was dramatic enough, wonwoo I'm looking at you. there's 30 minutes till new years so till then…enjoy!” he looks at jihoon to restart the music and when it does, all the eyes on you slowly move away as seungkwan leads you to the teachers.

they all congratulate you and praise you. after a while one teacher asks

“so who's going to be your vice?”

“jeonghan” there's no hesitation in your voice. the teachers seemed shocked, a bit put off too but they don't question it. they tell you good luck and let you go back to the crowd.

you stand near the stage for a bit. letting it all sink in. all these months of work, all the effort and everything worked out. even the banter with seungcheol worked- right. seungcheol.

you run back to try and find him when eunwoo bumps into you.

“hey y/n! congratulations there's no one who deserves it more than you” he gives you a smile and pat on your shoulder.

“thanks eunwoo”

“are you guys busy” you hear seungcheol behind you and immediately turn to him.

“not busy at all man” eunwoo says and walks off, winking at seungcheol while seungcheol just looks at him disgusted.

“I never liked that guy”

“why did you remove your name”

“he's always given me a bad vibe”

“you wanted this so badly”

“and he keeps flirting with-”

“choi seungcheol answer me.”

you cut him off

“answer you? okay fine. first of all don't call me by my full name. I left presidency because frankly I hate the pressure. I never wanted to be captain anyway. I got forced into it because of my grades and extra curriculars.” he takes a pause to look around the room before continuing.

”i realized I was only doing this because it was expected of me. so I left it. I rejoined the track and badminton team. that's what was important to me before and I'm going to continue it now” he says and looks at you. a small smile playing on his lips.

you're speechless. you always knew seungcheol never really liked captaincy but you didn't know till what extent. you feel bad. you feel bad for the all “why aren't you working” and “why did they make you captain” comments you said to him.

“I'm sorry seungcheol”

“for what”

“for everything”

he smiles. you realize that you're seeing his dimples after so long. he's never smiled that much in front of you before. he looks pretty.

“10 seconds guys!” yells seungkwan into the microphone. seungcheol softly takes your hand and says

“y/n, I know you haven't forgiven me”

“but I have to say”

“I've been thinking a lot”

“you're too important to me”

“I think I like you, more than friends.”

“can you give me a chance?”

“happy new year!” jeonghan comes and hugs you.

you have no idea how this is going to end. you're scared, terrified of this feeling but you won't let this go. you keep your grip on seungcheols hand. slowly the student council joins the hug and the rest of your friends follow. you look around. you're surrounded by people who love you, people who care for you. what could possibly go wrong?

“yeah…I'll take the risk.”

2months later :

taglist 🔖 — (thank you to you all <3)

@minhui896 @lirtha97 @haecien @thefroggybazaar @mayashu @jeonghansshitester @wonwoos-wineparty @huening-kawaii @sp1ng @wonwootakemyheart

@ddokye @thepoopdokyeomtouched @zzenkha @nishloves @weird-bookworm @sana-is-ms-rmty @immabecreepin @amxlia-stars

@peachhiz @punkhazardlaw @lockburn-castle @asyre @luchiet @ocyeanicc @wondering-out-loud @odetoyeonjun @tamcitrus @miriamxsworld @kissesfrmwonwoo @cherr-y-eji @jeoncatsworld @youre-on-your-ownkid @addicsvt @bangantokchy @tacosandbitch @sun-daddy-yoriichi @ckline35 @rakshithanotrao @isabellah29 @mangocustard16 @lone-lone-ranger @gyuguys @writingbarnes @scarlet931 @odxrilove @wonwoobestboyy @wollycobbl3-blr

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lokischocolatefountain · 11 months

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Hiii if you’re still taking requests, could we have more angsty, jealous Javier? You write his character so good, i love all of it!!! Your married series was absolutely fantastic <3

Javier Peña is not a jealous man. The women he’s with have multiple partners beside him- they’re informants, sex workers, and a lot of times both. He’s no juvenile and doesn’t expect them to not do their job because he can’t share. Besides, there’s a clear transaction with these women- sex in exchange for dollar bills, intelligence in exchange for a visa.

Javier Peña is not a jealous man. At least he doesn’t think he is until he’s with her (the professor he ends up marrying). The relationship starts out casual. She’s a beautiful woman who frequents the restaurant he frequents. They do the decent mating dance of flirtation and buying each other coffee before he takes her back to her place and fucks her thoughts out of her head.

He makes it clear to her that he isn’t looking for something serious. He hasn’t told her the exact nature of her job, but she knows. She has seen the gun on him. She has seen him on a raid, tactical vest on and hand enclosed around his gun. She kicks him out, but only after giving him a kiss and telling him she’d like to do this again. They were on the same page. Until they weren’t.

He’s bad at drawing boundaries. He kissed prostitutes on the forehead, asked them about their young kids and ailing parents, let them drone on about their hopes and dreams. Sure it was important to cultivate a relationship with his informants so that when things got dangerous, they would continue to… inform. But he enjoyed it. He liked knowing the women he slept with, liked asking questions and answering their questions. It was the only human thing left in his life full of violence.

He cannot draw boundaries with her at all. He eats from her refrigerator, drinks her liquor and lies down on her lap and lets her read English literature to him. He picks her up from work sometimes and drops her back the morning after. He fixes her faulty plumbing without even being asked. He finds her carrying heavy bags of groceries and offers to drive her to her place. He takes her grocery shopping and restocks her fridge. He tells himself it’s because he eats so much of her food. Just repaying her.

He’s picking her up from work one night. It boils his blood to learn that he isn’t the only one waiting in the parking area for her. There’s another guy, a professor like her, and he walks with her to his car. He should’ve driven away as soon as he noticed her with another man. But he doesn’t. He stares hard enough to burn a hole in the dress she wore when he first slept with her. It was flattering on her figure, highlighting her best assets— her entire goddamn body. Clearly she wore this dress when she was hoping to get laid. He drives away before she could notice him. He finds someone else that night. Plenty of fish in the sea, right? Except he screams her name when he’s balls deep in Helena.

She’s at their restaurant the next morning, having breakfast and drinking coffee like she didn’t go fuck someone else just last night. He sits at his old table instead of joining her like he always did. She looks a little hurt by it, but quickly fixes her expression to smile at him. Good. Be hurt. He is aware he’s being irrational. And a pig. She was free to sleep with all of Bogotá if she wished. God knows he did. She wasn’t doing anything wrong just like he wasn’t doing anything wrong. But he’s angry at her anyway.

Work takes him to Medellin for days and when he returns, he finds himself at her doorsteps. He feels right at home in her arms, in her pussy, and he doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t want to get up and leave even though everything in him is begging him to leave before it was too late. He struggles between the rational part of him that knows it’s best to leave and the irrational one that wants to pull her to his chest and fall asleep breathing her in. She makes the decision for him.

She’d asked in the nicest possible way to fuck right off. Well, not really. But she might as well have kicked him out. She asks for clarification “what are we doing, Javi?” There is it, he thinks. He was always clear about his intentions with women, but he’s had a few of them believe that they could “fix” him. Whatever the hell that meant. And he had to break their heart, tell them it was just sex like they’d originally agreed. But she surprises him.

She calls him out on his shit, tells him he’s giving her mixed signals with taking her grocery shopping and meeting her up at work. She tells him he can’t have it both ways. “I have a date with a colleague this Sunday. It’ll be weird if I’m with him, thinking about how sweet it was of you to take my car for an oil change. That’s not umm…it’s not fuckbuddy stuff.” It’s boyfriend stuff.

Her drawing the boundaries for him should’ve helped. But god it doesn’t. All he wants to do that week is walk into her university campus and punch that fucker who was taking his girl out on a date. It was stupid, dangerous and reprehensible. But fucking hell, he couldn’t do shit while thinking about her with another man. Would she let the guy fuck her in his car like she let him? Would she cry his name? Would she accidentally let a low Javi slip out of her pretty lips out of habit?

He stops visiting the restaurant. He doesn’t need breakfast anyway. He fucks other women, fucks his own fist, but none of them come close to the euphoria of being inside her, of kissing her and drinking her moans in just as he made her cum on his cock. Nobody comes close. It’s for the best. He cannot afford emotional entanglements. It was for her good that she pulled away when she did. This was no life for anyone and attaching herself to him would mean having to endure his shit.

He can’t stop thinking about her. He freezes in the middle of the fucking street with his gun pulled on some guy because he thinks he saw her in the distance. It’s not her, he knows that. She was in Bogotá and he was in Medellin. It’s not her. But he sees her in everything. He finds himself reading fiction, for fuck’s sake. He finds her panties stuffed into the cushions of his couch and smells it to get himself off. It was creepy as shit, but it’s the hardest he’s come since he stopped seeing her.

He drives by their restaurant and catches a glimpse of her having breakfast with that guy. At their restaurant, at their table. He’s filled with rage towards her new man, at her. How could she just take this guy to their restaurant and have breakfast at their table? Like he didn’t even fucking exist. How long had this been going on? Was it well before he saw them in the parking lot that evening? Did she bring him here whenever Javi was away in Medellin?

He brings another girl to his leather couch that night and tries not to think about how she could be at home right now, fucking her colleague in the same bed she fucked him. Did she ask him about his interests? Run her fingers through his hair? Touch his arms and tell him how strong he was? He wants to laugh at himself. Of course she didn’t do that last one. The fucker she was with had noodle arms. They wouldn’t satisfy her. He wouldn’t satisfy her. Javi knew her body in and out, knew all the right buttons to push, had her wrapped around his little finger and his cock.

Two months and he’s strong in his resolve. He still think about her, still keeps her panties tucked under his pillow like a low grade pervert, still thinks of beating the shit out of her new guy. Hell, she was probably in love with him by now. Probably a nice guy who didn’t sleep around and actually came home on time.

It’s the oddest thing that breaks him. Surveillance pictures from Escobar’s family vacation. The piece of shit has a whole wife. Keeps his mother and cousin close. Even that fucking monster had family. Doesn’t he deserve to at least take the girl he can’t get out of his head to a nice dinner? Loneliness creeps into his days and nights. No matter how many informants he beds, there’s a growing void in his chest.

Rather than drive home that night, he drives to hers. He wakes her up at an odd hour and all he can think of is whether she was in bed with the new guy when he rang the doorbell. She looked both surprised and annoyed to find him at her door. He couldn’t blame her for either of those things— he did drop off the face of the Earth and it was way past a decent hour to drop by someone’s place. He wants to hold her face in his hand and press a kiss to her lips. But he didn’t have permission for that anymore. So he just says “Dinner?”

Series Masterlist

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lilyginnyblackv2 · 1 year

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One of the oddest “Anya is better than Miri” takes I’ve seen so far was over on Twitter, and someone said they only liked Anya because she was a child character with agency (implying that Miri doesn’t have agency).

(Going to preface this by saying that I haven’t watched Spy x Family and personally just have no desire too, so I’m not even going to focus on the Anya aspect, just the Miri stuff, since that is all I really know).

Okay, well, from a sociology standpoint, most four year old children just don’t have much agency. Here is the definition of it:

We are only going to focus on the bold part: “In social science, agency is the capacity of individuals to have the power and resources to fulfill their potential.”

What is explained above is something entirely dependent upon the parents and their job/jobs and social standings. A child has no say or influence in that really. They are still very dependent on their parents and are still just learning too much. Kids in the four year old age range may not even know right from wrong yet or, if they do, they have a very black and white and basic understanding of it (usually based around rules - like what we see with Miri in Episode 6).

But, that person was likely talking about on a literary level. The literary definition of “character agency” is:

We are only going to focus on the bold part once again, which is: “’Character agency’ in fiction is used to describe the ability a character has to take action to affect the events of the story.’”

The comment about the lack of agency with Miri was made before Episode 5 comes out, which is when we see her personality really starting to show through, and we see the series developing her more as a fully realized character, rather than just a plot device. But even before that, we still saw Miri have agency within the series. Since lack of agency usually means that things happen to the character, rather than them actively causing something to happen. Miri has independently and actively caused a number of things to happen in Buddy Daddies. Such as:

In Episode 1, she independently and actively chooses to go into the elevator when she sees the cake...literally setting off the entire plot.

In Episode 2, she independently and actively chooses to disobey Kazuki’s words to stay in the car and go ring the doorbell to use the bathroom. This completely messes up Kazuki’s plan and causes a huge shift in the series itself, since it results in Kazuki and Rei being jobless for a bit.

In Episode 3, Miri independently and actively searches out Rei and has a fairly deep (for a four year old) discussion with him about smiling and making “pain” go away. She later has another deep (for a four year old) discussion with him, that results in him thinking about his upbringing and what it means to be a “Papa.” These discussions in turn affect Rei’s decision to be Miri’s “Papa” alongside Kazuki. Thus, once again, majorly shifting the story.

Those are just three examples, and yes, Miri’s decisions usually end up affecting Kazuki and Rei, but that’s because she is their child and they are her parents. Miri is given a personality and agency that is at a realistic level for a four year old. So this argument just makes no sense to me, unless you are expecting the same level of complexity and agency with a four year old child character as you would get with an adult, teen, or even pre-teen/older child character. Which just seems silly to me, tbqh.

#Buddy Daddies #BD #Miri Unasaka #Rei Suwa #Kazuki Kurusu #BD spoilers #Buddy Daddies spoilers #long post #image heavy post #meta post

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thefiresofpompeii · 2 months

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i know this is like. minus fourth world problems + autism, and maybe other fandoms have similar issues — i’ve never gone too deep into fandom spaces before and regret doing so — but. why are doctor who fans such incurable haters. i started watching in november after the specials aired and although i’ve been severely critical of certain unfortunate writing choices (as is my right. episodes that suck are… bad) i couldn’t fathom hating an entire series, an entire doctor’s/companion’s run let alone an entire showrunner’s tenure. you mean you can’t stand any of it??

it almost feels like… whenever i come across a person that loves to talk about nine and ten and donna and how much they loved wild blue yonder or w/e, they end up being a shallow moffat hater harping on about misogyny and one-dimensional women as if later series didn’t exist. whenever i find a fellow twelveclara understander who posts about missy and defends hell bent etc. suddenly i come across a post about how they hate rose? what could possibly compel you to dislike the character of rose tyler? i say this as somebody that isn’t a huge fan of tentoo. for more batshit examples saw a post along the lines of “don’t say you think tenmartha is interesting and then post about timepetals” like these are Characters bro. they’re not going to get sad. they are vehicles for the story they’re not people. tenrose was the carrier of the narrative in s2 and tenmartha in s3 and saying i enjoy the complexity of both of these relationships as they progress isn’t contradictory because that’s… the direction that the story takes????????

i don’t even hate chibnall era. even s11 has some redeemable bangers. what i mean is i fell in love with the show as a WHOLE . which means EVERY part of it is important to me and i don’t discount it. every next development builds on the previous. the timeless child ruined a lot of things but opened up many new avenues for exploration! i like the flux i like thasmin i like dhawan master i like the fugitive doctor i love dan and karvanista

you are all allergic to fun. sorry for getting mad about people getting mad it will (not) happen again. im going to go touch grass now

#jamie.txt #dw #doctor who #not adding any more tags this post is not a discourse starter in fact it’s the opposite of that

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dearly-somber · 5 months

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Haircut | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. slow burn, fluff, f2l (friends-to-lovers), humor, found family, angst, drama, eventual romance, eventual smut, high school!au

-> w/c. 1982

-> rating. 13+

-> a/n. This ended so silly so goofy smdhjaheb

-> warnings. None!!

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Aug. 14th, 2022 @ 19:49

-> fin. Thurs., Nov. 20th, 2023 @ 04:43

-> edited. Fri., Dec. 1st, 2023 @ 12:55

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

“You’re kidding right?”

Jungkook pouts, looking down at his hands with a furrow in his brow. “No…”

Y/N laughs, rocking forward to smack his knee familiarly. “You seriously got detention because your hair was too long? That’s ridiculous!”

“I know,” he whines, running a hand through said hair and sighing deeply as he lays back with his legs crossed, splaying his arms over the bed.

Y/N giggles as she stands, sympathetically patting his shoulder. “Is there really no way out of it?”

“Not unless I can book an appointment before school tomorrow.” Y/N cringes. “Yeah,” he sighs.

It’s so dumb. He didn’t get in trouble the entire week! Not one teacher mentioned it, and then during his last period on a Thursday evening, bam! Detention slip. And, obviously, it was from his least favorite teacher, Ms Kang, who he was pretty sure hated his guts for no other reason than she couldn’t fuck him. He’s honestly surprised that she hasn’t been reported for sexual harassment yet, but he swears if she touches his shoulder in class one more time…

Jungkook’s brought back to the present at the sound of drawers opening and closing, his attention piqued. The thing that spurs him into motion is the realization that Y/N is rummaging through his drawers and she might accidentally happen upon his underwear.

“What’re you looking for?” he asks, pushing up off the bed to sit with his feet hanging off the side.

“A comb.” She closes his sock drawer with a sigh. “Do you have one?”

His eyes flit to the hand she has wrapped around the dreaded underwear drawer handle. “In my bathroom. Why?”

She mutters to herself, “‘Course it’s in the bathroom, why didn’t I think of that?” Then, louder, “Wanna comb your hair first.”

“‘First’?” Jungkook repeats quizzically.

“Mm,” she hums, turning to him with a smile. “Gonna cut it for you.”

His eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“Sure!” She pulls him into the bathroom by his wrist, crouching to dig through his sink cupboard and turning back to him with a smile on her face and a comb in her hand.

“Uh…” Jungkook isn’t sure what to think. Does he like it when she plays with his hair? Yes. Does he trust her with his life? More than yes.

But his hair?

“I think I’d rather just go to detention…”

She punches his arm with a shake of her head. “My dad’s a barber, dickhead. I’m gonna get the water ready so long—can you change into swim shorts?”

“I…” Jungkook wants to say no and drag her back to bed so they could watch their silly little dramas and forget about how their plans to go to the movies tomorrow would be canceled because of some stupid detention slip, but Y/N’s eyes are sparkling and her voice is light, so he groans instead.

She smiles knowingly, turning her back to him as she starts fiddling with the handles in the bath, the water running as he goes to change, closing the bathroom door behind him.

He pulls his pants down and briefly considers changing out of his boxers before ultimately deciding to keep it on under the plain black swimming trunk he pulls out of his bottommost drawer.

He’s a little nervous for whatever Y/N has planned, but more than that, he’s excited. Whatever this is, he can feel deep in his stomach it’s going to be domestic and likely set his wolf off in the most pleasant way.

As he enters the bathroom, his eyes fall on Y/N. She’s standing inside the bath with her pants rolled up just under her knees, her shirt sleeves rolled up above her elbow, a comb and a bottle of shampoo in her hands.

“Well?” She beckons him closer. “What’re you waiting for?” Jungkook lets out a baffled laugh. She leads him inside the bathtub before gently pressing down on his shoulders so he’s facing the wall with his back to her, his legs crossed in front of him.

He feels Y/N slot her feet next to him, feels how her legs cocoon his arms. The water is pleasantly warm around his lap as she begins brushing through his unruly strands of hair.

She giggles softly. “I can’t believe you didn’t cut your hair,” she says, running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I didn’t think it was long enough to get me in trouble,” he grumbles with his eyes closed. “We grow our hair out all the time, so no one thought it would be an issue.”

Truthfully, Jungkook didn’t want to cut it because he knew Y/N liked it long, and wanted an excuse to keep it that way.

She tsks playfully, dragging the comb from the very top of his head (literally an inch short of his forehead) all the way down to the shorter strands of hair at his nape. “Guess it gives me an excuse to play with your hair, huh?”

“Guess so,” he mumbles, his chest warm and bubbly. “I didn’t know your dad was a barber,” he says.

“I guess it’s never really come up in conversation,” she replies, setting the comb aside and reaching for the detachable shower-head. She tests the temperature on her palm, water dripping onto the side of Jungkook’s arm before she interrupts with a little gasp, “Shit! I forgot about your shirt.”

“It’s fine.” Jungkook waves her off. “I’ll change into a different one when you’re done.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook imagines Y/N skeptically biting her lip. “Alright. Lemme know if the water’s too hot, yeah?”

Jungkook grunts as a reply, a soft noise leaving his lips without him meaning to at the feel of the water on his scalp.

She runs her fingers over his head, cupping her hands over his eyes to stop the water from going into his face.

“Did…did your dad teach you how to do all this stuff?” Jungkook asks, his brows furrowing as his wolf croons at the way Y/N lathers shampoo into his hair.

“Yeah, kinda,” she replies focused-sounding. “He took me to work sometimes, so I watched him a lot. Picked up on most of it that way, if I wasn’t asking questions.”

“That sounds really nice,” he mumbles distractedly, smiling softly at the image of baby-Y/N being taught how to wash one of those Barbie head’s hair properly.

“It was.” She makes sure to get the shampoo in the hair behind his ears as well. Jungkook can’t help but sigh contentedly, unable to find it in himself to care when Y/N giggles teasingly.

“You good?” she asks, a smile in her voice.

“Feels really nice,” Jungkook replies softly, his heart probably beating slow enough to make a cardiologist worry for his health.

After Y/N lathers the shampoo on, she rinses his hair out, applies conditioner, rinses that out, and then gently taps his shoulder. “C’mon Wolfy, let’s go downstairs.”

“Wolfy?”

“What?”

Jungkook smiles wide at her offended pout, throwing the towel she hands him over his shoulders. “Nothing, nothing.”

“Whatever,” she humphs. “Go down to the kitchen when you’re done changing so we can cut your hair.”

Jungkook salutes. “On it!”

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕

“Okay, you ready?” Y/N asks, excitedly snipping the scissors next to his ear.

Even though Jungkook feels his stomach drop, he puts on a brave face. “Let’s go!”

Y/N grins, running the comb through his hair one last time before pulling the longer strands of hair at the nape of his neck between her forefinger and middle finger, waiting a second before quickly snipping off the hair.

“Your hair’s gotten so long…”

“Should you be talking right now? Shouldn’t you focus on not cutting off too much?”

“Yah!” Y/N laughs in disbelief as she smacks his shoulder with the fist she has closed around the comb, tsking disappointedly as she continues snipping at his hair. She moves strategically around the back of his head, eventually maneuvering around to the front to cut his bangs.

“Seriously though, your hair’s grown a lot. I didn’t think you’d ever let it get this long.” She brushes through his hair again.

“Why?” he asks with closed eyes, both to keep the conversation going and also out of genuine curiosity.

She shrugs. “I dunno. You just never seemed like a long-hair kinda guy? It looks good on you, though. The long hair, I mean.”

“What else would you mea—stop hitting me!” Jungkook pouts as he brings a hand up to rub at his bicep, scowling under his bangs.

“Just…shut up. Stop nitpicking everything I say.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Don’t be mad, eh?” He reaches out to tug at her shirt, smiling satisfied when she huffs defeatedly and pats his hand before she starts cutting bangs.

“All hairstyles look good on you, though. It’s kind of unfair, actually.”

Jungkook scoffs, letting his eyes drift closed as Y/N grabs the blow-dryer (which he assumes she brought down from one of the bathrooms) and plugs it into a socket on the wall. She starts it up, then immediately stops.

He turns his head to the side to look at her. “What?”

“I’ve never thought to ask, but does the sound not hurt your ears?”

Jungkook frowns for a second, then lights up in understanding the next. “Oh! No, not really. It’s loud, sure, but you’d have to have really sensitive ears for it to hurt.”

“Ah, okay.” Y/N nods as she puts one hand on his shoulder, standing behind him. “Just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t hurt you.”

As the blow dryer turns on and drowns out any attempt at conversation, Jungkook can’t help but smile to himself.

She doesn’t want to hurt him. That’s a relief. Hopefully, she won’t have to. Soon, right? At the very least, Jungkook knows any hurt isn’t intentional…

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕

“Alright! We’re done!”

You set the dryer to the side as you pull the plug out of the socket, walking around to look at the finished product of your hard work, only to find him asleep.

You smile softly at the way Jungkook’s chin rests against his chest, lips slightly parted in sleep. His hair is not only shorter now (even though you kept some of the length, because you couldn’t find it in yourself to cut it all off), but it’s clean and fluffy and it makes you want to run your fingers through it.

Which you do—you reach out and card your fingers through his bangs and over his scalp, just kind of fondly staring at him while he sleeps, before realizing that that might be a bit weird.

“Jungkook?” Your voice is softer than you meant it to be, but you don’t mind. He’s so innocent when he’s asleep, it’s kind of awe-inducing. “Kookie?”

“Mngf?” Jungkook’s eyes open blearily, confusedly sitting straighter in his chair as he takes in his surroundings.

“I’m done, Koo. Go lay down on the couch if you’re feeling tired, you’ll hurt your neck.”

He grumbles something under his voice as he gets up from the chair, towering over you (damn his long legs).

Your eyes widen in surprise when Jungkook sleepily stumbles toward you, nuzzling into your neck as his arms wrap weakly around your middle. “Thanks, Bunny.”

You’re beyond happy that Jungkook can’t read minds, because in that moment you find yourself—for the split of a second—thinking about Jungkook in a not-so-best-friend way. “Sure, Kook.”

He drags himself to the couch, unceremoniously climbing over the back and flopping onto his stomach with a loud oof.

You press the back of your hands to your cheeks in order to cool them down, shaking yourself free of the stupid butterflies in your stomach as you grab a broom and sweep your best friend’s auburn hair out to the backyard.

Stupid haircut…

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bellaxgiornata · 11 months

Text

All These Years [Part 4: "All the Broken Pieces"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You met Matthew Murdock unexpectedly at Columbia University and you couldn't deny that there was an instant attraction–for you. But for Matt, you became as close of a friend to him as Foggy did. As the years pass by, your feelings only grow for your best friend, but all you can do is watch as he dates and sleeps with every other woman on campus and eventually in New York City but you.

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 4.4k

a/n: Our next update is finally here! This one features a very sad Matty and more pining. Hope you're enjoying the pain still because there's more to go! You can find the entire list of installments for this series here. Our next update will be "Graduation" I believe and it should be the end of our college pining days (but the start of more pining post-college).

Tag list: @theetherealbloom @acharliecoxedfan @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets (for some reason tumblr isn't letting me tag you, friend!)

You were currently slumped over your laptop on your bed focused on your assignment. You’d wanted to get a headstart on it, grateful that for once your roommate was going to be at her boyfriend’s dorm for the entire night and not yours–a rare occurrence on a Saturday night. So rare you’d even canceled your Saturday night plans with Foggy for the first time ever earlier today because of it. Though he’d been understanding and almost excited because he’d later told you that he’d scored a date with Marci for the evening. You were happy for him, looking forward to grabbing coffee tomorrow morning to hear how the date had gone.

Though there was a part of you that felt a bit lonely just sitting here on your bed working on homework all by yourself on a Saturday night. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting way to spend an evening in college, but it wasn’t like you had too many others to spend your time with. Sure, you had another group of friends you'd made from classes that you occasionally spent time with when you weren't with Foggy and Matt pre-Elektra. But really, deep down, there was still only one person you wished you could be with tonight. But that was never going to happen.

Matt was still with Elektra. It had been just over three weeks since you and Foggy had accidentally walked in on them having sex and Matt had said some hurtful things before you’d said some in return. You’d barely seen him since, which didn’t really surprise you. The one time you had run into him briefly you'd been with Foggy. Matt had tried to apologize to you again for what he'd done and said. In return you'd offered him a clipped apology as well. It had seemed like he'd wanted to say more, but of course Elektra had called and interrupted. And that had been that. You had tried not to think too much about it since, busying yourself with schoolwork. It had gotten to be far too painful for you to be around Matt.

With a huff you glanced down, noticing the time on your laptop and realizing it was close to when Foggy was going on that date with Marci. You picked up your phone and flipped it open before taking a moment to scroll through your text messages until you found Foggy's name. You pulled up a new text and began typing up a message.

6:42PM: Hey Fog, good luck on your date! I want the details tomorrow!

Closing your phone, you set it back on the bed beside you as you focused on your assignment again. It was barely a minute later before the sound of your phone vibrating met your ears and interrupted your focus, though. Absently you reached out, picking it up and flipping it open to read Foggy's text.

FOGGY 6:43PM: Might have to cancel on her :(

You frowned, your eyes narrowing as you reread the message. Why would he need to cancel on her? He had been talking about Marci nonstop for weeks now. You knew how excited he had been for this date. Fingers flying across the little keypad, you typed up a message.

6:43PM: Why do you need to cancel?? You've been dying for a date with her!

Impatiently you stared down at your phone, waiting for his response to come through. What had happened to make him want to cancel his plans?

FOGGY 6:44PM: Matt and Elektra broke up. He’s a mess. Doesn’t feel right leaving him here alone

Your eyes went wide as you read the text over and over a handful of times, your brain trying to process the information. Matt and Elektra had broken up? Just now? How? Why? And who had actually been the one to end the relationship?

So many questions began racing through your mind. Your body felt like it didn’t know how to properly react. All of your emotions of excitement and relief mixed with despair and heartache for Matt were quickly swirling in your stomach making you want to grab your trash can and vomit. You’d hated Elektra, and you had certainly hated who Matt had become when he’d been with her, but at the same time, the thought of Matt a heartbroken mess in his dorm room had your own heart twisting and writhing in your chest. He didn’t deserve that pain even though both you and Foggy had known the day was coming when things would end.

And apparently that day was today.

Biting your lip, you sat on your bed suddenly feeling torn. Part of you wanted to help Foggy and Matt by offering to stay with Matt. That way Foggy could have his date and you’d be able to comfort your friend. Because you cared about Matt despite how shitty things had been between the pair of you over the past few weeks–really, the past few months. Though you knew if he really needed you, you’d always be there.

But the other part of you was hesitant to offer up your comfort to Matt. You had very strong feelings for Matt still, feelings that he had no idea about. And the thought of sitting with him and trying to pick up all those shattered pieces of his heart that another woman had smashed to bits sounded like absolute torture. Especially because you desperately wished he would entrust you with that very same heart. And you knew you’d happily treat it with so much love and respect if only he’d just want you like that in return. Never in a million years would you ever want to break it.

But you were only his friend.

Eyes dropping back down to Foggy’s text, your thumbs hovered over the keypad. Exhaling a long breath, you knew exactly what you were going to do. Truthfully you didn’t even have to think about it. As pathetic as maybe that made you seem, you loved Matt. And if he was hurting, you’d always be there.

6:48PM: I can stay with him, Fog. You go enjoy your date.

Saving your progress on your laptop, you began picking up the mess of scattered books and papers on your bed. Your phone vibrated along your sheets when you had begun to turn off your laptop. Reaching over, you grabbed it and spotted the new text from Foggy.

FOGGY 6:50PM: No, I can’t ask you to do that! You crazy??? I know how you feel about him still!!

Setting your jaw firm, you typed up one final response to Foggy.

6:50PM: DON’T cancel your plans. OMW over now.

Gathering up a few of your things, you tossed them into your backpack. You weren’t sure how late you’d be staying at Matt and Foggy’s dorm, but if Matt wanted to wallow silently then at least you’d be able to finish your work while you kept him company. You slipped your phone into your pocket before tossing your backpack onto your back and then you exited your dorm.

It took you about ten minutes to leave your residence hall and make your way to Matt and Foggy’s before riding the elevator up to their floor. But the closer you got to their dorm room, the more nervous you felt yourself becoming. You weren’t entirely sure what to expect when Foggy had said he was a mess, and you weren’t entirely sure how the sight of it was going to make you feel. Nevertheless, you forced yourself to continue around the corner until you’d made your way down the hall and stopped in front of their room. You took a single, shaky breath in before you raised a fist and knocked twice.

The door swung open a few moments later to reveal Foggy with his long hair combed neatly. He’d even managed to throw on a clean, button up dress shirt that you weren’t aware he’d even owned. You’d never seen him wear anything other than tee-shirts, most of which displayed some sort of band logo on them. You shot him a small smile, one he awkwardly returned.

“You cleaned up well,” you told him.

“Thanks,” he said. “You uh, you sure about this?”

You nodded, forcing a wider smile onto your face. “Yeah. Matt’s going through a hard time and he’s my friend. I want to be here for him,” you answered.

The look Foggy shot you when you’d called Matt your ‘friend’ had not gone unnoticed, but you refused to acknowledge it. Though Foggy eventually stepped aside, gesturing you into their dorm with a wave of his hand.

You stepped inside and saw Matt curled up over the sheets of his bed, his knees drawn up to his chest and his back facing the door. His shoulders were drawn up tight towards his neck, his head visibly tucked into his chest as well. Swallowing hard, you felt tears stinging at your eyes instantly. You were certain your heart broke in that moment. He looked so small .

“So I uh, I actually need to head over to Marci’s dorm soon,” Foggy said awkwardly, breaking the silence.

Your attention returned to Foggy and you saw the way his face fell at the sight of yours. He opened his mouth, most likely about to tell you he wasn’t going to go on the date, but you quickly nodded at him.

“Yeah, go on,” you told him. “Don’t be late. Doubt she’d like to be kept waiting.”

“You’re…sure?” he asked hesitantly.

Sniffling lightly, you nodded again. “Yeah, go on,” you replied. “Go enjoy your night.”

Foggy mouthed a ‘thank you’ before he grabbed a jacket and left. And then you were suddenly alone with Matt who had remained silent and motionless on his bed. Nervously chewing your bottom lip, you made your way over to Foggy’s bed and slipped off your backpack, setting it down. Turning towards Matt’s bed, you awkwardly tugged the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands.

“Hey, Matty,” you greeted softly.

He whispered your name in greeting back, his voice cracking as he did. Somehow your heart fell even further in your chest at the sound.

“Do you–” you paused, wincing at how dumb this sounded even to you, “–want to talk about what happened?”

“No,” he answered.

Your tongue darted out, nervously wetting your lips as you nodded. Slowly you sunk down onto the end of Foggy’s mattress, awkwardly crossing your arms over your chest. Your eyes dropped down to your dirty shoes.

“I loved her,” Matt whispered.

Instantly your eyes snapped shut at those three words spoken so heart wrenchingly softly in the room. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart giving an awkward jolt in response. God, this was going to be more painful than you’d anticipated.

“I know,” you replied just as quietly.

“But it wasn’t enough,” he said.

Your arms tightened even further around your chest as if they could keep your heart in place. “What happened?” you asked.

“She wanted me to do something that I–I couldn’t do,” he confessed. “So she just…left me. Without a word.”

Anger clawed at your chest, rage desperately wanting to break free and lash out at Elektra. What could she have possibly wanted Matt to do that he couldn’t? And how did that justify leaving him without a word? How utterly heartless was Elektra?

“You deserved better,” you stated, fighting to contain that seething anger inside of you. “No one should make you do something you don’t want to do. And they certainly shouldn’t punish you for it.” Your teeth grit together, hands curling into fists inside of the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “You deserved better , Matt,” you repeated firmly.

“But I loved her,” he whispered.

Sighing heavily, you shook your head. “Maybe–maybe you did, Matt,” you began, “but I’m not so sure it was reciprocated. Certainly not in the way it should have been.”

You braced yourself for the verbal lashing sure to come your way. For the raging, protective side of Matt that always appeared to defend Elektra. The one that had made you cry not too long ago.

Instead, Matt sniffled loudly, somehow further shrinking into himself on the bed. A tear managed to slip out of your watery eye and you quickly wiped it away with your sweatshirt sleeve.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “You and Foggy were both right. I'm sorry I was–was such a shitty friend."

Shoulders dropping at his apology, you felt your expression softening as you watched him on the bed. His head slowly rose from the pillow and turned towards you, his eyes landing on you on the end of Foggy’s bed as if he somehow knew you were sitting right there. You could clearly see the blotchy redness on his cheeks and the glistening tracks of his tear streaks. His face was pinched tight, his mouth twisted into a deep frown.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "You and Foggy deserved better."

Your gaze dropped down again, your hands fidgeting inside of your sweatshirt sleeves. "At least you see that now," you mumbled.

The sound of Matt shifting along the mattress caught your attention and you looked back up. He was pulling himself into a sitting position, resting his back against the headboard of the bed. He looked broken sitting there with his pain written clear across his face like that. The sight alone gutted you. You truly hated Elektra for whatever the hell it was she had done to him.

“Everyone always leaves me,” he whispered.

Shaking your head firmly, you pointed out, “Foggy and I are still here.”

“Yeah, but you–you left me for a bit, too,” he replied. “And I don’t blame you. I was an ass. But still–you left.”

Your face fell instantly at his words. It felt like he’d ripped your heart right out of your chest and threw it on the ground.

“I didn’t leave you, Matt,” you told him. “I’ve always been right here. I still am. I’m–” you sucked in a sharp breath, “–your friend.” The word came out of your mouth like broken glass, cutting you up from the inside out as you said it. “And I’ll always be here for you.”

His mouth pulled upwards in a sad, disheartened smile. Even from the end of Foggy’s bed you could spot the tears shining in his eyes. The moment one of them slipped out, you were pushing yourself off of the bed and making your way over towards him.

“Scoot over, Matty,” you ordered.

He didn’t hesitate; Matt immediately began sliding towards the edge of his bed and making room for you. You climbed up onto the mattress beside him, resting your back along the headboard, too. The entire right sight of you was pressed up against the entire left side of him, from your shoulders all the way down to your legs. It was the closest the pair of you had ever really been–certainly the closest to cuddling and crossing the border of friendship that you’d ever been with him.

You couldn’t fight the urge to lean in a little more into his side. Seconds later you felt Matt pressing further back against you, and then very gradually you felt him slowly come to rest his head along your shoulder. A smile slipped across your lips as you cautiously tested the boundaries, lowering your head to gingerly rest against the top of his.

“Thanks for still being here,” Matt whispered.

“I’ll always be here, Matt,” you repeated softly.

He nuzzled his head further along your shoulder and your eyelids fluttered closed. Cuddling–you were cuddling with Matt. And sure, it was strictly platonic, especially because he was literally heartbroken–you weren’t going to lie to yourself about that . But that didn’t mean you weren’t enjoying every goddamn second of having Matt to yourself like this. Of having him right there for the first time ever.

“I’ll always be here, too,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble.

The sound of a door softly closing faintly registered in your ears, your nose scrunching at the sound. You stirred slowly awake, eyelids gently raising. But then you quickly squinted, the light of the room bright in your eyes. It took you a moment to adjust to it, but when you did, you spotted Foggy standing at the foot of your bed with wide eyes. Your own narrowed back at him, wondering what he was doing in a rumpled button down in your dorm room.

But then you noticed the weight on your shoulder and your eyes grew wide. Gaze swiftly dropping down, you spotted Matt’s unmistakeable leg still pressed up against yours. Very carefully you withdrew your head from atop his, your eyes still wide. The both of you must have fallen asleep like this last night shortly after you’d shown up. Apparently you weren’t the only one who’d been comfortable enough to stay asleep the entire night.

“Oh my God ,” Foggy whispered roughly, your attention quickly shifting to him. “Did something finally happen?”

“What? No!” you whispered back, barely shaking your head. “No! He’s literally broken up over his ex, Fog. How could you even think that?”

“Because of exhibit A!” he harshly shot back, waving a hand frantically at Matt still asleep on your shoulder.

“We just–just fell asleep,” you told him.

Your focus dropped down to Matt’s sleeping face and a soft smile formed along your lips. He looked peaceful lying along your shoulder, not a crease of worry or a single tear anywhere on his face. His lips were ever so slightly parted and you could hear the faint, even breaths as he exhaled. What you wouldn’t give for this to be a nightly occurrence. Or to be able to gently card your fingers through his hair and place a soft kiss to his temple. For him to wake up and glance in your direction, his eyes creased from a warm smile on his own mouth as he whispered ‘good morning’ to you.

What you wouldn’t give for Matt to say he loved you .

“So then what did happen?” Foggy pressed.

“He told me a little about the break up,” you answered.

“He did?” Foggy asked with a gasp. “He wouldn’t say a word to me about it.”

Your attention was still on Matt’s sleeping face as you spoke. “He didn’t tell me much,” you admitted. “But he told me enough. And she–she definitely broke his heart, Fog.”

“I know,” he said, tone softer than it had been. “How’re you doing?”

Your head darted in Foggy’s direction at the question instantly. “What?” you asked.

“After last night,” he clarified. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m–I’m fine,” you told him.

Foggy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at you. Not wanting to talk about that right now, especially not with Matt asleep on your shoulder, you quickly changed the subject.

“How was your night?” you asked him pointedly, waving your left hand at him. “I see you’re getting back early in the morning. Someone doing the walk of shame?”

A bright smile quickly spread across Foggy’s face, the warmth of it radiating easily around the entire room. “I wouldn’t call it a walk of shame. More like a…walk of satisfaction. Success. Triumph!”

You rolled your eyes. “So you got laid, did you?” you teased.

“Yes,” he answered with that beaming smile. “Yes, I did.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “Good for you, Fog,” you said.

A soft groan came from beside you and your smile quickly fell. Matt began to stir against you, slowly lifting his head from your shoulder.

“Morning buddy!” Foggy called out.

“Ugh, morning, Fog,” Matt grumbled, his voice a bit hoarse.

A sheepish smile crossed your lips as you glanced at him beside you. “Morning, Matty,” you greeted him shyly.

He froze immediately, his head tilting to one side. “Did I–did I accidentally fall asleep on you last night?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah,” you answered awkwardly. “But I guess I fell asleep on you, too. So…I guess that makes us even?”

His lips curled up slightly at the corners, his expression a little brighter than when you’d first shown up last night. The sight alone warmed you.

“So who wants to hit up the dining hall for breakfast?” Foggy asked enthusiastically. “I could go for all of the bacon and eggs. Like literally all of it.”

“Your night went well, I take it?” Matt asked, voice still rough from sleep as his attention turned towards Fog.

“Yes it did my friend,” Foggy replied excitedly. “So who’s hungry?”

You shrugged a shoulder. It was Sunday morning, not like you had a class to get to or anything. And you did need breakfast.

“Sure,” you said. “I could certainly go for some eggs and orange juice. Maybe some coffee after because you owe me details about your date, Nelson.”

“Oh, I don’t think you want to ask him for details,” Matt cut in quickly, shaking his head. “You’re not going to want the details.”

“Why not?” you asked him.

Both of Matt’s brows jumped up high onto his forehead at your question, a small grin forming on his mouth.

He was so damn beautiful it physically hurt.

Quickly snapping out of your thoughts, you pulled a face and lightly slapped Matt’s arm. “Gross, I don’t mean details about the sex! I want to know about the date !”

“With Fog, they go hand in hand,” Matt told you.

“So what about you, Matt?” Foggy asked from across the room. “You want to grab breakfast with us?”

You slid off of Matt’s bed, readjusting your sweatshirt and trying to comb your fingers through your hair. It looked like Matt was thinking, his eyes landing somewhere near you at the side of his bed. A few moments later he nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” he answered softly. “Yeah, I’ll come with.”

“Great!” Foggy shouted. “It’ll be just like old times again! The three amigos!”

“Not if you don’t stop being so chipper,” you shot back. “It’s way too early in the morning for that level of excitement.”

“I second that,” Matt said, slowly scooting himself across the bed towards you.

You watched as he rose to his feet next to you, fighting to keep your hands to yourself. The urge to reach up and draw him into a hug, hold him close to you yet again, was stronger than you'd ever felt before. You assumed it was because you'd now knew what it felt like to fall asleep cuddled up to Matt all night. And it seemed that was going to make things even more difficult for you now.

"Alright, well, I'm starving so let's go before the dining hall gets busy," Foggy said brightly, clapping his hands together. "Today is going to be a beautiful day, I can feel it!"

You huffed out a laugh, watching as Foggy exited the dorm. He was definitely more awake than usual.

"You uh, mind handing me my cane?" Matt asked. "Think it's on the nightstand."

"Oh, yeah," you answered quickly.

You turned, grabbing his cane from his nightstand. Turning back towards him, you placed it into his outstretched hand. He muttered a soft 'thanks' as he began to unfold it, your eyes watching the deft movements of his hands as he did.

"Can I bother you for one more thing?" he asked as he worked.

Your gaze slowly drew up to his face, pausing on his own eyes. He was looking somewhere near your chin, the weight of his sightless stare raising the hair along your arms. You could still see the hurt and pain plain as day in his hazel eyes despite the way his mouth was gently curled up at the corners this morning. He was still grieving Elektra. You weren't stupid enough to think otherwise even if he wasn't curled in a ball crying in his bed right now.

You'd also be lying if you said you didn't wish you could mend all the broken pieces of his heart for him. Fix it back up and make it better than new with the love you had for him burning so hot inside of you. You just wanted to reach up and kiss him. You wanted to find the courage and the words to express how much he meant to you and how he deserved the world.

You just wanted him.

"Yeah," you breathed out.

"Can you hand me my glasses?" he asked. "Don't really feel like being stared at today."

Blinking hard a few times, you pulled yourself out of your thoughts. Clearing your throat, you nodded as you forced a smile onto your face.

"Yeah, uhm, let me find them," you answered.

"Probably also on the nightstand," he offered softly.

"Right, yeah," you mumbled.

Swallowing hard, you turned back to the nightstand. Tears were pricking at your eyes and clouding your vision for a moment, but then you spotted the dark frames and picked them up. You handed them to Matt's outstretched hand and watched as he slipped them on. He shot you a little smile afterwards, one that had your heart squirming.

"Thanks," he murmured. "And uh, thanks for staying with me last night. It–it meant a lot."

You nodded, glad he couldn't see the watery smile on your face as you did. "Of course," you croaked out. Pressing your lips together, you tried to control your emotions. "That's–that's what friends do."

You cleared your throat roughly again when Matt’s head tilted curiously to the side, his dark brows pulling together on his forehead.

"We should probably go before Foggy comes back and yells at us," you said quickly.

"He's probably already forgotten about us," Matt joked.

You laughed lightly, wiping a sleeve across your damp eyes. "Probably right," you agreed.

"You–you mind guiding me?" Matt asked hesitantly.

Your gaze dropped down to his hand hovering in the air between you both. A small smile returned to your face at how close this almost felt to how things were before Elektra had fucked everything up.

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

As you reached out and drew his hand to your arm, you couldn't help but notice how tight he gripped it this time. Something about the way he held onto you felt…different. Almost as if he needed you.

But you shoved that absurd thought aside as quickly as it had come before leading the pair of you towards the dining hall.

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